#Cheeky crash | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

raevalyntine · 1 month ago

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normal things you do that makes the lads men weak in the knees! (fluff, slightly suggestive)

characters: sylus, zayne, rafayel, caleb, xavier

sylus! (reversing the car with one hand)

“You sure you can handle her, kitten?”

Sylus raised a brow, that smug, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he leaned against the hood of his ridiculously sexy car — the same one he’d brought you in during your last mission. Midnight black, polished to a mirror finish, and all sharp curves and quiet danger. The kind of machine that purred when it moved. Just like him.

You twirled the keys around your finger, eyes gleaming with challenge. “Please. If I can handle you, anything else is a breeze.”

He let out a soft, amused laugh, the kind that rumbled low in his chest and made your heart flutter. "Careful now. You keep testing me, sweetie, and I might stop pretending to be nice."

You arched a brow. “That’s not a threat at all.”

“Cheeky little kitten,” he muttered, half under his breath, but loud enough for you to hear. His fingers brushed your waist as he opened the door for you, like he couldn’t not touch you. “Try not to crash her. Or I’ll have to remind you what real control looks like.”

You slid into the leather seat like you belonged there, flashing him a wicked grin. “Mm. Threaten me with a good time, why don’t you?”

You will be the death of him.

–

Truth be told, he never intended to let anyone else drive it. But it was you. And Sylus could never say no to you—not when you looked at him like that, with excitement dancing in your eyes and your hands already on the wheel like you belonged there. Not when your smile and those bright, determined eyes were the only reason he even bothered to wake up some mornings. So, he climbed into the passenger seat with a lazy, indulgent smile and watched you.

He didn’t expect to be completely undone within minutes.

You were so focused, eyes sharp, lips pursed just slightly, hands adjusting the mirrors like you’d done it a thousand times. The dim streetlights lit the inside of the car in soft amber glows, playing off your skin and making you look breathtaking. He’d always thought you were beautiful. But this? This was something else.

And then came the reverse.

You shifted gears smoothly, turned to check behind you, and put your right arm behind his headrest, your other hand loose and controlled on the wheel. You leaned back slightly, posture effortless, movements confident.

Sylus went still. The moment your arm slid behind him and your body leaned in close, his brain short-circuited.His breath hitched — somewhere between a curse and a groan — and he didn’t even pretend to look away. No, he stared shamelessly. Like you were the sexiest thing he’d ever seen — and you knew it.

The car slipped into park with a clean click.

“You okay?” you asked, glancing at him with a knowing smirk. “You’ve gone awfully quiet over there.”

His eyes dragged over your profile — that smug smile, the rise and fall of your chest, the way you sat like you owned the whole damn car. His voice came out rough, breathless, honest.

“You trying to kill me, sweetie?”

You blinked at him innocently. “What? I didn’t even hit the speed limit.”

“Kitten, don’t tease me,” he muttered, eyes still fixed on you like you might disappear.

You snorted, laughing. “You’re dramatic.”

“And you,” he muttered, still staring, “are dangerously attractive. Remind me never to let you drive again.”

You raised a brow, cocky. “What? Afraid I’ll outshine you?”

“No,” he murmured, leaning in close until his breath brushed your skin. He pressed a kiss just under your jaw — slow, teasing. “Afraid I’ll crash the damn car next time… because I’ll be too distracted watching you.”

zayne! (tying up your hair)

The apartment was quiet, save for the occasional soft rustle of paper and the ticking of the clock on the wall. You sat cross-legged on the couch, Zayne right beside you, both of you lost in your own worlds—his full of medical scans and diagnostics, yours in a stack of mission reports. You were wearing one of his old T-shirts. It was a little too big on you, the sleeves falling slightly off your shoulder and the hem pooling around your thighs. But it was soft, smelled like him, and frankly, you weren’t about to wear anything else when you were spending the night with Zayne.

He had started out focused—really, he did. But somewhere between you curling your legs under you and the way your brow scrunched while reading the file, his eyes had started drifting from his report to you. Again and again. And then just... stayed there.

He should’ve been reading about some medical stuff or… well, he forgot what he was even reading about. Because all he could think about was how unfair it was for someone to look that gorgeous doing something as mundane as paperwork.

And then you did that.

You let out a quiet sigh, strands of your hair falling across your face as you leaned forward slightly. You grimaced, frustrated, and reached for the hair tie on your wrist. Zayne watched in real-time as you gathered your hair into a loose ponytail, arms raised above your head, exposing the soft curve of your neck. His T-shirt slipped just a little lower on your shoulder as you moved, your skin glowing faintly in the golden evening light.

And he lost all sense of what he was doing.

Before you could even secure the tie, Zayne was there, leaning in, his lips brushing against the bare skin of your neck, soft and warm and lingering.

You froze for a second, surprised, your fingers still tangled in your hair.

A small, breathless laugh escaped you. “What was that for?”

He didn’t move far, just rested his forehead against your shoulder, voice low and a little hoarse when he answered, “You’re distracting.”

You smiled, finishing the ponytail and turning slightly to face him. “I’m just sitting here.”

“Sweetheart, you could be taking out the trash, and I would still think you’re irresistible,” He exhaled through a smile, shaking his head. “I never stood a chance.”

You nudged him playfully, cheeks warm. “You’re unbelievable.”

Zayne just leaned in again, his hand brushing your knee gently, lips returning to your neck like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Yeah,” he murmured, leaving a trail of kisses from your jaw to your neck, “so are you.”

caleb! (drinking water after a gym session)

The gym was dimly lit by the time you finished, the late evening hush settling in as the last of the music faded into the background. You were both drenched in sweat, panting, muscles sore and shaky—but satisfied.

Caleb dropped the dumbbells with a grunt, resting his hands on his hips as he turned to look at you.

Big mistake.

You were standing there in those tights—the ones that hugged every curve and made his brain stutter like a broken machine. Your sports top was damp, your skin glistening, and your cheeks flushed from exertion. Even just breathing, you looked like a goddess to him.

But then you tilted your head back and took a swig of water.

And he swore the world was in slow motion.

A bead of sweat slid down your neck, joining a drop of water that trickled from the corner of your lips down to your collarbone.

Caleb let out an actual groan.

Before you could lower the bottle, he was behind you. You yelped in surprise as his hand gently but decisively took the bottle from yours, and his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against his chest.

“Caleb—!” you squealed, breathless and laughing. “We’re both sweaty! And disgusting!”

He didn’t even seem to hear you. His lips found your bare shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world, brushing warm and soft over damp skin. He tightened his hold just slightly, his breath hot against your neck.

“I need you,” he murmured, voice rough, low, and devastatingly serious.

You went still in his arms.

“Right now,” he added, kissing up toward the corner of your jaw, like you weren’t both soaked in sweat and supposed to be cooling down.

“You’re insane,” you mumbled, heart pounding.

He chuckled, but didn’t deny it. “Only for you, pipsqueak.”

rafayel! (covering the edge of a table to protect his head)

You and Rafayel sat side by side at the table, paint tubes scattered around you like colourful confetti. Brushes lay haphazardly in every direction, and two half-finished canvases rested on the table. The air was thick with the sharp scent of acrylic paint and something softer—maybe the faint scent from your lotion, or maybe just the warmth radiating from him so close you could almost feel it.

You were both caught up in the fun of switching canvases every few minutes, layering your styles to create something beautifully chaotic. You wore one of his T-shirts, the sleeves rolled up messily, and a streak of turquoise paint marked your cheek like a badge of honor. It felt effortless, playful—until his brush slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor.

“Damn it,” he muttered, already crouching to retrieve it.

Without even glancing up from your own canvas, your hand moved instinctively—sliding out to cover the sharp corner of the table edge, the one his head was dipping dangerously close to.

Rafayel didn’t even notice at first. But when he came back up, brush in hand, he saw you: your expression serene, brow furrowed lightly in concentration, your other arm still braced protectively over the edge.

You hadn’t done it for attention. You probably hadn’t even realized you'd done it at all.

But something inside him shifted.

It was the smallest act. Quiet. Thoughtless. Pure muscle memory, like you were wired to look out for him.

And you were still wearing his shirt. Still sitting in the golden afternoon light like a soft dream come to life. His lips parted slightly, breath catching as he watched you.

You finally looked over. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer.

Just leaned in and kissed you—soft, full, and far too deep for such a quiet moment. Like he'd just remembered he was desperately in love with you all over again.

When he pulled back, you blinked, dazed. “...Raf?”

“I love you,” he said simply, as if that explained everything. And somehow, it did.

xavier! (leaning over him to reach something)

The two of you were in the kitchen, lazily prepping dinner together after a long day. Xavier was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching the pot simmer while you moved around the space like you owned it—because you basically did. This was his place, sure, but the way your presence lingered in every room made it feel more like yours.

He was keeping a casual conversation with you as your eyes flicked toward the cabinet above him. You took a step closer.

Then, with no warning, you leaned right over him, reaching for the top shelf where the spice jar sat, just slightly out of your natural reach. Your torso pressed gently against his arm, your shoulder brushing his chest. His voice faltered as the scent of you infiltrated his senses.

You didn’t notice.

Or maybe you did, but acted like you didn’t.

Your fingers wrapped around the jar, and then you were pulling back with a victorious smile, turning away like nothing had just happened. You were already opening it, humming softly as you shook a little spice into the pot.

Xavier hadn’t moved an inch. His thoughts, on the other hand, were a battlefield.

The heat of your body. The effortless way you invaded his space. The soft scent of your shampoo still clinging to the air. The sound of your breath when you reached. The hem of your shirt rising just a bit too high when you stretched. All of it left him rooted to the floor, watching you like you were a living temptation he didn’t deserve.

“Xavier?” you said, glancing over your shoulder. “You okay?”

He blinked. Swallowed. “Yeah,” he said, voice lower than he meant it to be. “Do you always do that?”

“Do what?” You tilted your head, genuinely puzzled.

“Just... reach over people like that. Casually. Like you didn’t just—” He broke off, jaw clenching slightly. “Never mind.”

Your smile turned slow. “Xavier, were you flustered?”

He scoffed lightly. “I don’t get flustered.”

You stepped closer, eyes dancing. “You do. When I do things like this—” and then you brushed your fingers down the front of his shirt, featherlight, “—you get a little distracted, huh?”

He exhaled slowly, catching your wrist, pulling you flush against him.

“You’re cruel,” he whispered, eyes locked on yours, heat simmering under his skin.

“And you’re easy to tease.”

He didn’t argue. He just kissed you, deep and slow, hands slipping to your hips with intention that made your knees weak.

The pot simmered on the stove, long forgotten, the scent of dinner fading into the background. You had to call for takeout instead—something quick, something easy—because every touch, every lingering look from Xavier left you trembling in a delicious kind of ache.

Later, you sat across from each other at the small table, plates between you, but your mind miles away. Your body was already sore from the way he’d claimed you, but Xavier smiled like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t just shown you exactly what it cost to tease him.

His eyes caught yours over the rim of his glass, warm and dangerous, and you knew the night was far from over.

a/n: thank you everyone for all the love on my writings!! this one had been in my drafts for awhile but I only got to revisit and edit it yesterday. i apologize in advance if any of them are out of character, or some a little short than the others. I'm still learning and practicing on how to write for each character, but I do hope my silly little writings can make you smile. love you everyone!!

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yawnderu · 1 year ago

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>Silly sex with Simon Riley. 💗

“Fuck, love...” Simon's needy voice hits your ear, calloused hands roaming up and down your body as if his life depends on it, leaving a track of fire that burns from within.

“Don't call me love, mate.” His thrusts falter for a second, letting out a small chuckle before he starts moving again, his meaty cock slipping in and out of your needy cunt. Simon's grip tightens on your body, not leaving a single inch of skin untouched.

“Don't call me mate. Feels like I'm shaggin' one of the lads.” Your little giggles hit like music to his ears, even when they're interrupted by moaning the moment his tip slams against your cervix, letting you feel every single inch of his veiny dick.

“Bet you'd like that, wanker.” Your playful insults do nothing but act as fuel for Simon, the little amused smirk he shoots you as he starts to thrust deeper into you, the sound of his muscular thighs slapping against your ass ring around the room, only adding to the atmosphere you both set minutes ago.

“'S much better than wanking.” His face only seeks deeper shelter into the crook of your neck the moment you try to push him away and call him gross while giggling, allowing his burly arms to wrap around your waist only to bring your warm body closer to his, open-mouthed kisses planted all over your neck despite the chuckles escaping his lips.

“What kind o' mints do soldiers use?” Simon couldn't let the quiet gasps take over— not when he had you underneath him, looking prettier than ever, eyes glossy from laughing and the most lovely smile he's ever seen.

“What?” You ask after a few seconds, getting lost in the way Simon looks straight out of a porno— a thin layer of sweat covering his pale skin, muscles bulging out of his skin with the strain from thrusting into your sopping pussy, his face slightly scrunched up the moment your walls tighten around him.

“Tac-tics.” You try to hold in your laugh— truly, you do, yet the cheeky grin Simon gives you is enough to make your resolve falter, giggles mixing in with the moaning at the feeling of his thick cock throbbing inside you, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks just to bring him in closer, keeping eye contact even as his eyes crinkle, deep chuckles escaping his lips despite himself.

Simon's lips crash against yours last second, part of him not wanting you to hear just how good you're making him feel, your warm walls wrapping around him like vice, making him thrust deeper and harder into you, shooting ropes of cum right into your cunt way earlier than he would've liked, yet the feeling of your wet tongue sloppily wrapping around his is enough to make him forget about any worries.

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all4yoi · 11 months ago

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𝒥ust a bet﹕hyung line

𝑒nhypen x fem!reader ︎︎⚹︎ cw: angst, no fluff (yet), reader is mostly viewed as a loser and nerd, lowercase intended, kinda went overboard with hoon's, reader gets called a bitch once, not proofread!

synopsis﹕after a few months of dating, you find out you were just a bet.

part two !

★ LEE HEESEUNG (wc 0.3k)

you and lee heeseung has been dating for a total of five months, and throughout those months you can confidently say that you were the happiest. he was the perfect boyfriend, his family loved you and so did yours.

today, heeseung promised he would take you on a date after his basketball practice despite your protests on how he should be resting instead. you wouldn't have agreed if it weren't for the fact that he had shot you with his pleading big doe eyes that never fails to make you agree on whatever he asks for.

so here you were, making your way towards the gymnasium with your bag hanging on your left shoulder. the lack of dribbling and smacking basketball noise from behind the closed doors told you that their practice was done.

entering quietly out of habit, you were about to approach your boyfriend when you overheard his teammates talking to him.

"don't tell me you're still with her?" asked one of boys, an amused smile on his face. heeseung only raised a brow.

"what? you won the bet, you can dump her now. you're ruining our image you know? plus she's a total nerd and loser, you're much better with someone like yunhee." and with only just a few words, you felt your world crashing down.

right, who would date someone like you? you always found it weird, that heeseung just approached you one day in your biology class with the cheekiest smile on his face. the fact that he wouldn't leave you alone until you've agreed to go on a date with him. it all made sense now, why the popular basketball captain suddenly gained interest on the school's "biggest nerd."

"speaking of.." another guy spoke, nodding towards you with a cheeky smile. heeseung turned around only to be met with your glassy eyes.

you didn't move, wanting to hear him defend you. wanting to tell his teammates that you weren't a bet and he actually liked you throughout the months you two have been dating.

his silence said everything and with that you turned away and ran out of the gym.

"shit." he muttered, running after you.

�� PARK JONGSEONG (wc 0.3k)

"i'll pick you up later, okay?" your boyfriend of almost a year said softly through the phone. you've been dating jay since the first week of your first year in uni, others found your relationship weird. maybe because back in high school, jay never and refused to even spare you a glance. he was an asshole who looked at you as if you were the epitome of disgusting.

but the past is in the past now, right?

"okay baby, see you." you reply and put your phone down on your table, knowing that he's usually the one who ends the call.

you go back to the papers scattered on your table. the silence in your room was disturbed by sudden noises in your phone, turning to look, you see that jay hasn't ended the call.

picking your phone up with a smile, you were about to call out for him but a voice stopped you.

"i can't believe you've gone this far dude." you recognized the slightly muffled voice, it was a friend of jongseong's.

"what do you mean?" your boyfriend grumbled. the audio was muffled, you figured he was moving and the phone was in his pocket.

"you're still dating her!" the voice exclaimed, as if amused. "seriously, i didn't think you'd take that bet seriously. fine you win, i'll clean your car for a month. but you've gotta cut it out, you're starting to disgust me." the boy laughed.

before you could hear what your boyfriend would say, you ended the call. your hand was trembling and tears were falling from your eyes unconsciously.

were all those months just a joke to him? were your feelings really worth a free car wash for just a month? were you that unworthy?

jay was an asshole back in high school, you thought he changed. turns out he didn't, you felt like a fool for falling for his antics.

★ SIM JAEYUN (wc 0.3k)

if someone would be asked who you were, they'd all say the same thing. a loner, pathetic loser, and a nobody with a pretty face.

because what was a pretty face if you had no friends and a social life?

you almost believed you would die alone, you were too socially awkward to make friends. so when sim jaeyun, the transferee, approached you with a warm smile and a hand outstretched for a shake, you were beyond shocked.

your relationship went from being block mates, friends, then next thing you knew you two were dating. at first you were reluctant to enter a relationship, scared that it would ruin your friendship, but he insisted you both tried. that was three months ago.

you didn't have any friends, but atleast you had jake.

jake who smiles at you as if you had carved the stars in your hands. jake who would never forget to bring your coffee every morning. he was everything you ever needed. he was it for you, you only hoped he felt the same towards you.

walking through the hallway of the school, you stopped infront of your locker only to be met with a sticky note on it.

HOW LONG CAN JAKE LAST WITH LOSER L/N?

A WEEK : 卌 - 卌 - 卌 - 卌 - III

FIVE MONTHS : 卌 - I

A YEAR : II

Furrowing your brows, you stare at the note as your breathing grew heavy. It was obvious that the paper was old, it had folds and it was only stuck on your locker with a washi tape.

"what are you doing l/n? go on, cast your vote." a mocking voice said from beside you followed by a bunch of laughter. "personally, i thought he'd last a day. i guess i'll vote for five months then." then the hand went and tallied on the five months category.

"what's going on here?" upon hearing your boyfriend's voice, you fled away immediately, not wanting to face him. everytime something good happens in your life, it's always ripped away from you. jake was just like them, you were just a toy for their own entertainment.

★ PARK SUNGHOON (wc 0.5k)

"i'm sorry baby, i really am busy with practice tomorrow." your boyfriend, sunghoon, says in genuine sorry. it was the fifth time you have asked him to meet your parents, who also by the way was so desperate to meet the boy you've been dating for seven months now.

every time you ask him, he's always busy. either with practice, a project, a family matter, or whatever excuse he can come up with. but you always brush it off, knowing he means well and he really is busy as he's an athlete student.

"i'll meet them next week, okay? i promise." that's also the same thing he says everytime too, and once again, you only nod in response.

you and sunghoon met in a physics class. he was clutching his head with a frown on his face as he desperately tried to understand what the professor was going on about.

you remember clearly the way he approached you in the library, a physics book on his left hand as his right scratched his nape. "can.. i noticed- uh, can you help me with this topic?"

that was where your relationship started. you tutored him and helped him improve his grade. when he got an A on the finals, he kissed you on the lips in glee. he was taken aback by his own actions but nevertheless asked you out after.

"i love you," he whispers, pressing a kiss on your temple. "let me get something from my room." you hum in response as he takes his arm that was previously wrapped around you before going up to his room.

you can't help but notice the way his phone was blowing up from beside you.

you weren't the type to snoop around other people's phones, especially your boyfriend. it just felt wrong, you trusted him fully. but the way it kept ringing with text notifications, you just couldn't help it.

looking back to the stairs, you note he isn't back and there was still rummaging noises from his room.

taking his phone, you enter his passcode and read the messages from one of his group chats.

JONGSU

lol don't tell me she asked again.. em ba rrah sing

DAEHYUN

hahah when is she gonna take a hint?? 💀

JOON

you gonna blame her? hoon's been at it for months lmao

DAEHYUN

i actually can't believe he went that far, wasn't it only supposed to be for a month? 🗿

JONGSU

a week actually, but ig that bitch y/n was so easy. yk hoon likes to get his ego fed 💀💀

putting the phone down, you exhaled in disbelief. you took your bag from the floor and threw it over your shoulder and went to the door of his apartment to put your shoes back on.

"baby?" sunghoon emerged from the stairs, looking at you curiously. "you're going already?" he asked, extending an arm towards you but you slapped it away. the tears on your eyes shocking him.

"hey, hey what's wrong?" he tried again but his hand was yet again slapped away.

"i don't want to see you ever again." was the last words you uttered to him (shakily) before leaving his apartment.

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saexy · 2 years ago

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I GOTTAA REINSTALL!!!

#it got removed after my dekstop crashed :((#AND I DIDNT BOTHER INSTALLING IT AGAIN TT #LETS PLAY THE DEMOO AGAINNN YASSSS #OH GAWDDD I JUST WANNA HOLD HIM SO BAD!!#HE IS ONE CHEEKY ASS I M GONNAA PASS OUT IN THOSE PECKS #sad hours!

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youleftmenochoicebut · 6 months ago

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NATIONAL ANTHEM.

pairing. — husband!hwang in-ho x wife!reader

summary. — you always cherish the times your husband is home, and not away dozens of miles away from you, overseeing deadly games.

warnings. — smut (eating pussy), fluff, prolly ooc, its bad.

a/n. — yes, i too, caught the squid game brainrot. i try to work on the requests! schools been kicking my ass tho, sorry. this is too short and def not proofread!

you love when he wakes you up like this. his hand wrapping around your waist to pull you into him, lips crashing into yours the second your eyes open and he knows you’re awake.

he hasn’t been sleeping for almost an hour, watching your chest raise and fall with a steady rhythm of your breathing, the expression on your face changing in your sweets dreams.

and so, when you roll onto him, you hook your arms around his neck, pulling away quickly. “morning breath. ew.” you whisper, a sleepy smile forming on your face as you look down at him. he’s always so composed, even around you, and still it’s the softer side of him, the one only you see (and the one his family once saw).

he knows how much you hate the smell, and he nods, getting out of bed with you in his arms without a problem, and the way he’s still so fit in his mid fourties always makes you sigh. you, only in your twenties, could barely go a day without complaining of back pain or leg pain, or generally any pain.

he carries you to the bathroom, letting you drop onto your feet when you’re in front of the sink, and you stare at your reflection in the mirror. the both of you brush your teeth, and then he’s pulling you out to the kitchen. you sit down on the stool while he makes you a coffee first, handing it to you with a low hum before moving to make a cup for himself.

“any work today?” you mutter after you take a sip of your nectar of gods, a content sigh escaping your lips, your eyes set on In-ho. he shakes his head, leaning his hip against the counter, holding his mug.

“only making my wife the happiest person on earth.” cheeky bastard. for a man who tends to be closed off even with you, you have to admit he’s smooth. it makes you smile, how only the corners of his lips raise, and you set your coffee down in front of you.

“where the hell did you learn to be so charming, huh? damn sweet-talker.” you huff, rolling your eyes playfully as he approaches you, settling his coffee next to yours. he puts his hands against the counter, on either sides of your body, trapping you in a close embrace.

“i’m a natural charmer, darling.” his smile widens, and it actually looks like a proper smile now, as he leans in. before you can react, his hands are on your waist, swiftly picking you up for you to be perched up on the edge of the kitchen island, and you rest back on your elbows.

coming back to your thought from earlier, you’re always amazed at how much stamina your man has.

“you know, i don’t think that’s gonna count as a proper meal.” you chuckle, looking down at him as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, sliding them down your legs and you kick them off once they’re at your ankles. he prompts your legs open with a single pat to your thigh and you oblige right away, spreading them just for your husband.

“still, it’s my favorite.” In-ho mutters quietly, taking a deep breath in when he brings his head to your bare pussy, as if the scent is what he’d want to breathe for the rest of his life.

“don’t tease.” you chuckle, and you feel his nose nudge your clit, a shiver running down your spine. you tangle your fingers into his hair, trying to tug him closer, but he lets out a tshk sound. his hands force your legs over his shoulders, and after a moment of silent contentment, he puts his lips on you.

it makes you arch your back the second he does, even if it’s just a kiss over your pussy lips. he backs away slightly, planting more and more soft kisses over the insides of your thighs, his fingers now grazing on your hips in soothing circles.

“shh… shh. you gotta be a good girl for me, remember?” his voice is a murmur against your skin, and soon his lips go back to your cunt. you only nod, your eyes meeting once he starts sucking on your clit. it’s light, the sensation barely there, and you pull at his hair again. a chuckle leaves him, the vibration against your sensitive bud making your pussy clench around nothing. it truly feels degrading, knowing how much power he holds over your body that a feeling like that brings out a reaction like this.

once he finally stops teasing you and really begins to lap at your intimate part, you moan, the sound low and breathy. you know it won’t be nice now. he spits onto his palm, then his finger pushes inside you soon enough. that one finger stretches you out good, almost painfully, from how thick and calloused it is. he has your body and its’ reactions memorized by now, and so he adds a second finger when the first one is soaked in your juices.

“i love that look on you.” In-ho’s fingers speed up the pace, sliding in and out of you faster, crossing over inside you and curling to hit that spongy spot that makes you tremble. you only glance down at him, watching him through half-lidded eyes, moans and whimpers escaping your mouth more regularly. the man works wonders on you, lips focused on your clit, fingers ruthlessly driving into you with a fastened rhythm. it’s not long until you’re seeing stars, your fingers in his hair drawing him in against your cunt even more to stop him from pulling back, and your climax hits you hard. you’re a panting, dazed out mess as your husband helps you ride out your orgasm, only pulling away when the shaking of your legs subsides, licking his fingers clean of your essence. you let out a heavy sigh as you sit up, unable to form a coherent thought.

“i’m not done with you yet.” your man wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close to his chest, rubbing your lower back gently. “we have a new armchair i think needs a proper… trying out.”

#dividers by pommecita #hwang in ho x reader #hwang in ho x you #hwang in-ho x reader #in ho x reader #squid game x reader #squid game x you #squid game #hwang in ho smut #smut #blurb #frontman x reader #the frontman

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jungwnies · 2 months ago

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f1 grid | comforting them

୨ৎ : featuring : all drivers on the grid ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : comforting your driver boyfriend after they had a bad race </3

୨ৎ : genre : romance & fluff (angsty if you SQUINT) ୨ৎ : tws : some are suggestive ୨ৎ : word count : 3902

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : a monday post cus.. why tf NOT

ʚ・red bull

max verstappen

acts like everything is fine, but you can tell by how quiet he is.

you guide him past media without a word, shielding him physically and emotionally.

cuts everyone off with a clipped “it’s fine,” but lets you stay close.

doesn’t speak much until you’re alone—just sits beside you, jaw clenched.

eventually murmurs, “it was shit today,” without looking at you.

you just nod and take his hand, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

you order food, dim the lights, and make him lay down while you run your fingers through his hair.

he melts slowly, letting the tension fall out of his body.

“you’re like my therapist,” he mutters.

“you’re like my emotional tax return,” you shoot back, and he actually laughs.

yuki tsunoda

starts off convincing himself it’s fine. “it’s okay, just racing. it happens.”

tries to brush it off with humor, but his eyes are a little too glossy.

sits stiffly, arms crossed, forcing himself not to cry in front of anyone.

when you ask if he’s alright, he shakes his head and says, “i don’t wanna talk about it,” voice tight.

but as soon as you wrap your arms around him, he lets out a breath like he’s been holding it for hours.

“i tried so hard today,” he mumbles into your shoulder, and that’s when the tears come.

buries his face in your chest, completely silent except for the way his arms tighten around your waist.

you stroke his back and whisper, “i know. i saw. you did everything you could.”

he doesn’t let go for a long time, just holds you like he needs you to hold the world together.

later, sniffling into your hoodie, he mutters, “don’t tell anyone i cried. but don’t go anywhere either.”

ʚ・mercedes

george russell

“well, that was a masterclass in how not to have a race,” he says, throwing his gloves on the table like he’s commentating his own downfall.

acts unbothered, sipping his water like it’s champagne. “at least i didn’t crash into a wall. small victories.”

makes a passive-aggressive joke about his strategy call, then follows it with “but it’s fine. i love character development.”

when you ask how he really feels, he smirks. “emotionally bankrupt, but thanks for checking.”

keeps pretending he’s over it, but you catch him zoning out mid-shower, forehead against the tile, just breathing.

when you hand him a towel and a soft “you don’t have to keep it together right now,” he just shrugs. “if i let go, i might not get back up.”

you sit with him on the couch, and he rests his head on your lap, finally letting you card your fingers through his hair.

“you make this day slightly less shit,” he mutters, then adds with a cheeky grin, “wanna really take my mind off it?”

you raise a brow. “that subtle, huh?”

he just smirks, pulling you down for a kiss. “come on. don’t make me beg. i’ve had a really bad day.”

kimi antonelli

throws his helmet a little too hard, then immediately panics like "oh shit did i just break it," while storming into the motorhome.

tries to act cool but ends up rage-snacking on chips mid-rant. "why the f—why do i even try?! i’m literally doing everything and the car’s like, ‘no ❤️’"

paces back and forth while voice-cracking through sentences like, "no, it’s fine. it’s cool. it’s just… my whole career. no big deal."

you sit there trying not to laugh because he’s got one sock halfway off and crumbs on his shirt but is fully spiraling like it’s the end of the world.

“am i washed at 18?! is that even possible?”

you calmly hand him a juice box and say, “you’re not washed. you’re dramatic.”

he glares, sucks on the straw aggressively, then slumps down next to you with a loud sigh.

“i hate being a prodigy. too much pressure. should’ve been mediocre and mysterious.”

you rub his back and say, “you’re allowed to have a bad day, baby genius.”

he blinks up at you, lip jutted out. “if i win next weekend can we get matching crocs?”

you nod. he grins. “sick. emotional support footwear incoming.”

ʚ・ferrari

charles leclerc

comes home way too quiet. keys in the bowl, shoes off, straight to the bathroom without a word.

you find him staring at the sink, toothbrush in hand, not even brushing—just zoning out.

“i don’t know what i’m doing wrong,” he says, voice low. “i keep trying and i still mess it up.”

you hug him from behind and rest your chin on his shoulder. he doesn’t flinch, just leans into it with a sigh.

“maybe i’m not good enough anymore,” he mumbles. “maybe they’re right.”

you turn him around gently. “you are good enough. more than enough. stop speaking to yourself like that.”

he blinks fast like he’s trying not to cry, then rests his forehead against yours.

“i just… hate letting you down. even if you say you’re not disappointed.”

you guide him to bed, tug off his hoodie, pull the sheets over both of you. he curls into you instantly like a kid.

“you’re the only part of the day that feels good,” he whispers against your skin.

then, quietly, a little mischievously, “maybe we can end it with something else that feels good?”

you laugh into his hair. “if you’re asking me to kiss it better, just say that.”

“i am. in a poetic way.”

lewis hamilton

he doesn’t storm in. he’s not loud. he just walks through the door a little slower, like the weight of the day is still sitting on his shoulders.

takes his time taking off his shoes, hangs up his coat carefully—like staying in control might keep the emotions at bay.

sits on the edge of the couch with his hands clasped between his knees, eyes distant. “you ever give everything and still feel like it’s not enough?”

you sit beside him without saying a word, letting him talk when he’s ready.

“i don’t mind the criticism. i’ve been through worse. but sometimes it’s like… no one lets you just be human anymore.”

he looks at you with tired eyes, soft but heavy. “i’m not asking to win all the time. i just want to feel like i did something right.”

you lace your fingers with his and lean your head against his shoulder. “you do so much right. more than most ever could.”

he hums low in his chest, squeezes your hand. “you always know what to say.”

eventually pulls you into his lap, buries his face in the crook of your neck like he’s finally letting himself rest.

“just stay close tonight,” he whispers, kissing your shoulder. “you’re the one thing that still feels steady.”

“you’re the one thing that feels like peace.”

ʚ・mclaren

lando norris

kicks his shoes off a little too aggressively when he gets home. “don’t ask,” he mutters before you even say hi.

slumps on the couch, arms crossed, hoodie up, eyes on the ceiling. “today was great. crashed my hopes, ran over my self-esteem, 10/10.”

you offer to talk and he just grumbles, “nope. don’t wanna. gonna repress it. very healthy coping strategy.”

pretends he's fine, scrolls on his phone like he’s not one second away from crumbling. keeps sighing dramatically every five minutes for attention.

refuses to cuddle at first. “i’m mad at the world. leave me in my hoodie cave.” but then two seconds later: “okay but like… you can sit near me. just not touching. but like… close.”

eventually ends up curled into your side, face hidden in your neck. mumbles, “today sucked. i sucked. everything sucked.”

you stroke his hair and he softens immediately. “you don’t suck. you’re just tired. burnt out. you need rest, not punishment.”

“you’re being all soft and wise, it’s disgusting,” he grumbles—but his hand’s gripping your shirt like you might float away.

you kiss his temple. “still want me to leave you in your hoodie cave?”

he pulls the blanket over both of you and whispers, “shut up. you live here now.”

oscar piastri

walks into the room and doesn’t say much. just nods once, drops his bag, and disappears into the bathroom.

you hear the water running—ice cold. he always showers when he’s overwhelmed. said it helps him “reset.”

when he comes out, hair wet, hoodie half-zipped, eyes tired—he looks a little more like himself again. still quiet. still distant. but thawing.

sits next to you on the bed without saying anything, just slowly reaches for your hand and starts tracing circles on your palm.

“i didn’t know how to talk about it without getting angry,” he admits softly. “so i didn’t.”

you nod and lean your head on his shoulder. “you don’t need to explain everything right away. i’ll wait.”

he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “thanks for not pushing me. i just… hate not being enough.”

turns to you with red-tinted eyes. “it’s stupid. it’s just racing. but when it goes wrong, it feels like i’m failing you too.”

you hold his face and say, “you never have to earn being loved. not from me.”

he presses his forehead to yours and whispers, “can i just stay here with you for a while?”

then, a small smile. “also i might’ve left my sanity in the ice bath, but at least you’re here.”

ʚ・aston martin

fernando alonso

he comes home calm, like always. keys on the counter, jacket folded neatly. but there’s a tightness in his smile when he kisses your cheek.

“today was… different,” he says. not dramatic, not upset. just honest. “did everything right. still fell short.”

you know when it hits him—it’s in the way he lingers at the window, watching the sky like it has answers.

“some days you feel time catching up with you,” he says quietly. “not just in racing. in everything.”

he doesn’t need you to fix it. he doesn’t even need a pep talk. just presence.

you sit beside him on the couch, thigh to thigh, and rest your hand on his. he doesn’t speak for a while.

then, softly, “i think it just hurts more when you still want it this badly.”

you turn to face him. “it’s not weakness to want. it means you’re still alive in it.”

he smiles a little, shakes his head. “you’re too poetic for me.” but he leans in, rests his head against yours anyway.

“you help me breathe on days like this,” he murmurs. “even if i don’t say it.”

then after a pause, he smirks. “also… i might require some very specific stress relief later. for mental health reasons.”

you laugh. “is that what we’re calling it now?”

“doctor’s orders.”

lance stroll

walks in without a word, drops his stuff, and immediately faceplants onto the bed—fully dressed, shoes still on.

groans into the mattress. “everything sucks. i suck. the car sucks. media sucks. people suck.”

doesn’t want to talk at first, just grunts when you ask if he’s hungry. “no. actually, yes. but i don’t wanna move.”

you bring him snacks and he eats them off your plate like a sleepy gremlin, mumbling, “you’re the only good thing today.”

flops his head into your lap and finally breathes properly for the first time all day. “i hate how drained i get. everyone wants something. i just wanna be here.”

you run your fingers through his hair and he closes his eyes, murmuring, “i think i used my entire personality quota at the track.”

“can we just stay in here forever? like… disappear? change our names? move to a mountain town?”

you smile and nod. “sure. i’ll pack the stuff.”

he grins sleepily, then pulls your hand to his chest. “you make everything feel less loud.”

then, quietly: “you’re my safe place.”

five minutes later, fully under the blanket, eyes half-closed: “also. i’d like to make out now. for comfort purposes.”

ʚ・williams

alex albon

walks in already scrolling tiktok, earbuds in, nodding like he’s totally unbothered.

plops onto the couch, legs across your lap, and shows you cat videos like he didn’t just get roasted by strategy and a five-place penalty.

laughs too loud at dumb memes. “this is healing. this is therapy.”

you let him vibe, let him chill, until you see that slight pause mid-scroll. his thumb hovers. brows knit. he doesn’t show you this one.

“people are brutal today,” he mutters, still staring at the screen. ��like… i know i joke about it, but sometimes i wonder if they’re actually right.”

you take his phone gently, set it down, and crawl into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “hey. you know they’re not.”

he exhales slowly, voice quieter now. “i wish it didn’t get to me, but some days it does. just a little more than i’d like to admit.”

you press your forehead to his. “you don’t have to be funny about everything. you’re allowed to feel it too.”

he nods, lips pressed together. then, soft as ever: “can you just… hold me for a bit? like properly?”

“always,” you whisper. and he lets himself be still. no jokes. just you.

carlos sainz

he comes in with that tired-but-trying smile, tossing his bag down gently like even that feels heavy.

“it wasn’t… great. but i learned something. that’s always the takeaway, no?” he says, already slipping off his jacket.

he talks himself through it out loud, mostly to you but partly to himself. “maybe i pushed too hard. maybe the strategy wasn’t perfect. but i didn’t give up. that matters.”

you nod and hum and let him vent until he runs out of words and just stares at the wall in thoughtful silence.

“can i have a hug now?” he asks suddenly, already walking over like he knows the answer.

wraps his arms around your waist and buries his face in your shoulder. “you’re the only place i feel like i can breathe after a day like this.”

you guide him to the couch and he pulls you into his lap, burying his face into your neck like it recharges him.

“even if i’m okay… i still need this. i think everyone does, sometimes.”

he starts to drift off mid-cuddle, fingers tracing your spine lazily, voice getting slower.

“i should just speak spanish. english is too much work when i’m tired,” he mumbles against your skin.

then whispers, “gracias por amarme incluso cuando me siento roto.” (thank you for loving me even when i feel broken.)

you press a kiss to his forehead. “always.”

“te juro que voy a mejorar. para ti. para mí.” (i swear i’m going to get better. for you. for me.)

ʚ・haas

ollie bearman

bursts into the room like he just won the race. “alright! that was a trainwreck. who wants to start the post-race roast?”

keeps making jokes like, “honestly, i think i invented new ways to mess up today. f1 history books: written by me.”

you raise an eyebrow and say nothing, just letting him go off while he rants about strategy, traffic, “and my stupid left foot that forgot how to brake.”

finally crashes onto the couch, staring at the ceiling with a dramatic sigh. “do you think i peaked at 17?”

you crawl into his lap and cup his face gently. “no. i think you haven’t even scratched the surface of what you’re capable of.”

he blinks up at you, smile faltering for just a second. “yeah? even after… whatever that was today?”

“especially after that,” you say, brushing a thumb over his cheek. “you care. you fight for it. that’s what makes you special.”

he exhales, the tension leaving his body all at once as he buries his face in your chest. “okay, now i’m gonna cry like a little baby, hope you’re ready.”

you kiss the top of his head. “already holding you. already proud.”

he peeks up with a grin. “can you say that again but like, with sparkles and dramatic background music?”

you laugh. “ollie bearman, you are a legend in the making.”

“that’s the energy. now kiss me before i start doing self-deprecating tiktoks.”

esteban ocon

comes home calm, too calm, like he’s holding everything in with white knuckles and discipline.

doesn’t speak until he’s showered, changed, and had a full 20 minutes of silence. then sits beside you and says softly, “he was better today. i saw it.”

you know he means another driver—someone younger, someone faster today—and you can hear the frustration in his restraint.

“maybe i’m not doing enough,” he mutters, barely above a whisper. “maybe i’m the weak point.”

you try to stop him, but he just shakes his head. “i’m not fishing. i just… feel it. and i hate it.”

he’s not angry. he’s just disappointed in himself. his brows stay pinched even when you’re stroking his hand.

“i’m scared that if i don’t prove it now, no one will believe in me later.”

you climb into his lap and hold his face gently, forcing him to look you in the eye. “you don’t need to prove anything to be worthy of love. or respect.”

he leans into your touch, eyes closed. “i want to believe that. i do.”

you kiss his cheek. “then start here. start with me. i’ve always believed in you.”

he lets out a shaky breath and whispers, “merci…” then rests his forehead against yours like he’s anchoring himself back to solid ground.

ʚ・racing bulls

liam lawson

walks in tossing his hat onto the kitchen counter and mutters, “well that was a steaming pile of absolute crap.”

jokes about it in that dry way. “should’ve just driven a shopping trolley. might’ve gotten better results.”

he’s pacing while he talks, voice calm but clipped. “not even mad at anyone specifically. just… the whole bloody universe.”

you lean on the doorframe, arms crossed. “want me to fight the universe?”

he smirks, shaking his head. “nah. that’s my job. but i appreciate the backup.”

doesn’t take it out on you at all—in fact, he’s more affectionate. keeps reaching for your hand while he vents.

“i know it’s just one race. i do. but it builds up, y’know? starts to feel like you’re yelling into a void and it’s all echo.”

you guide him to the couch and let him rest his head in your lap. “you’re allowed to yell. i’ll hear it. even if the world doesn’t.”

he sighs and looks up at you with that soft, slightly crooked smile. “you’re dangerously good at this, you know that?” “at what?”

“loving me out of a bad mood.”

then he tilts his head and adds, completely casual, “might need a little… extra cheering up later though.”

you roll your eyes. “that what you’re calling it now?”

he grins. “what can i say? i’m a man of simple needs.”

isack hadjar

bursts through the door like a tornado. “I AM RETIRING. I’M QUITTING. I’M GOING TO OPEN A BAKERY. OR JOIN A CULT. SOMETHING PEACEFUL.”

flings his bag across the room, misses the couch, and nearly knocks over a lamp. doesn’t even blink.

“do you know how humiliating it is to be passed like that? i was driving my heart out and the car was like, ‘no...NOPE..NOOOO.’”

keeps fake-dramatizing it like a one-man soap opera. “isack hadjar: the fall from grace – coming soon to a streaming platform near you.”

you play along for a bit until he finally plops onto the floor at your feet and just… sits. quietly.

“i was actually trying today,” he mumbles, not looking at you. “like properly trying. and it still went to shit.”

you sit down beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and he leans into you slowly like he’s deflating.

“sometimes i feel like people are just waiting for me to fail so they can say they knew it.”

you turn to him gently. “they’re not. and even if they were… you’ve already proven them wrong just by showing up the way you do.”

he rests his head on your shoulder with a sigh. “you’re annoyingly good at this whole ‘being nice to me’ thing.”

you grin. “want me to stop?”

“no,” he mutters, snuggling closer. “never. might need it tattooed on me actually. in comic sans.”

ʚ・alpine

pierre gasly

slams the door just a little too hard. doesn't say anything at first—just kicks off his shoes, throws his phone on the table, and heads straight to the kitchen for water like it personally wronged him.

“they don’t listen. doesn’t matter what i say. it’s like talking to a fucking wall,” he mutters, pacing like he’s ready to punch a pillow.

you try to say something gentle and he snaps a little too fast—“i’m fine, okay?” but it’s not sharp. it’s exhausted.

he keeps moving around the room, hands on his hips, jaw clenched. “maybe i should stop caring. maybe that’s the trick.”

you don’t respond—you just walk over and wrap your arms around him from behind. he tenses for half a second. then sighs.

“you always do that,” he mumbles, not pulling away. “just… hug me until i stop being mad.”

you press your cheek to his back. “because i know you’re not really mad. you’re tired. and hurt.”

he turns around and buries his face in your neck like it’s the only safe place he knows. “i hate that they make me feel like this. like i’m not enough.”

you kiss his hair. “you are. always have been.”

he holds you tighter, breath shaky. “i don’t say it enough, but… i need you. especially on days like this.”

then, muffled: “also if you kiss me again i’ll probably forget what i was mad about. just sayin’.”

jack doohan

in front of the team? stone-faced. cool. collected. “yeah, not the best day. we’ll move on. it’s fine.”

comes home? immediately sighs the second the door closes. rests his forehead against the wall for a solid ten seconds before moving.

tries to act chill around you too. “it’s just one of those days. happens. i’m fine.”

he is not fine. but he’s doing that thing where he says he’s okay while avoiding eye contact and changing the subject every 3.2 seconds.

“you hungry?” he asks, even though he’s barely eaten since breakfast. “we could order something. or not. i don’t care.”

you eventually pull him onto the couch, and he lets himself flop next to you, arms crossed like a sulky cat.

he won’t say it outright, but his knee is bouncing, his fingers are twitching, and he keeps glancing at you like he wants permission to crack.

“i just hate looking like i don’t belong here,” he finally mumbles, voice low. “like i’ve got something to prove every second.”

you crawl into his lap and cup his jaw, making him look at you. “you belong. you’re not failing. you’re learning. that’s what makes you good.”

his lips part like he wants to argue, but then he just exhales and wraps his arms around you like you’re the only thing holding him up.

“it’s stupid,” he whispers. “i didn’t want to need comfort today. but here i am.”

you smile. “i don’t mind. i like being the person you let your guard down with.”

he looks at you with soft eyes and the tiniest grin. “well… if i’m already emotionally vulnerable and pathetic… might as well make out about it?”

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orangeblossomsintheair · 6 months ago

Text

LIONHEART (2/3) – LN4

summary : lando's journey as a dad.

wc : 12k

an : lionheart was supposed to be a 2-parter but i hit the maximum wc for a post so i guess it's gonna have one more part 😭 not the most linear progression and not beta-read !

It had to be some kind of cosmic joke, you thought to yourself, the more you watched your son grow up.

Nine months of carrying him, swollen feet, back pain, cravings, and sleepless nights, only for him to come out as an exact replica of his father.

Had your genes even tried?

Your son was all Lando.

The wild mop of curls that defied gravity, his sun-kissed skin, that cheeky gap-toothed smile, and those bright aquamarine eyes that twinkled with mischief.

His resemblance to your husband was so uncanny that even Cisca, your mother-in-law, couldn’t stop commenting on it.

“It’s like going back in time,” she said one afternoon, watching your son dart around her garden, pretending to race with his toy car. “He’s exactly how Lando was at his age.”

She paused to chuckle. “And just as much of a handful.”

“Oh, don’t remind me,” you replied, sipping your tea with a tired smile. “I think the universe decided one Lando wasn’t enough, so now I’ve got two.”

Cisca patted your hand, laughing softly. “Well, you’re doing a wonderful job. Raising a mini Lando is no small feat, trust me.”

"Speaking of small," you quipped, watching your son determinedly try to drift his bulky toy car, tongue sticking out as he put his weight onto the steering wheel. "He’s just as tiny as his dad was, isn’t he?"

Cisca laughed, the sound warm and familiar as she watched her grandson’s antics. “Oh, absolutely. Lando was always the smallest in his class. It drove him mad. He’d come home every week asking me to measure him, convinced he’d finally grown an inch overnight.”

You snorted, imagining a pint-sized, gap-toothed Lando standing against a wall, demanding to see the ruler. “That sounds about right. Let me guess, he overcompensated by being the loudest kid in the room?”

Cisca nodded with a fond smile. “Loudest and most dramatic,” she added, her eyes twinkling. “He had this knack for turning every little scrape or fall into an Oscar-worthy performance.”

As if on cue, your son’s car lost its balance, and he tumbled to the ground, landing on his side but throwing his arms out dramatically.

“I crashed!” he wailed, flopping onto his back for full effect. “Someone call my pit crew!”

You buried your face in your hands with a groan, trying not to laugh, while Cisca chuckled beside you.

“And there it is. Just like his father.”

Lando chose that exact moment to walk into the garden, a drink in hand, eyebrows raised as he surveyed the scene. “What’s going on here?”

“Your mini-me just reenacted your entire childhood,” you replied, nodding toward your son, who was now lying in the grass, muttering something about needing new tires.

Your son immediately perked up, pointing at his completely intact toy car. “The wheel came off, and the engine’s making weird noises!”

Lando grinned, sauntering over and crouching down next to his son. “Alright, mate, what’s the damage?”

“Hm, sounds serious,” Lando said, nodding solemnly. “We’ll have to get you back in the garage. Can you make it?”

Your son nodded fiercely, throwing his arms around Lando’s neck as he scooped him up effortlessly. Watching them, you couldn’t help but smile.

—

Raising Lando Norris’s mini-me had been a chaotic blend of exhaustion, love, and endless laughter. From the moment your son came into the world, Lando had been there, fumbling his way into fatherhood with all the charm and clumsiness that only he could manage.

The first night at home was chaos.

Your son cried nonstop, his tiny lungs working overtime as the sound echoed through the house.

You were sprawled on the couch, clutching a pillow like it was the only thing tethering you to sanity. Every muscle in your body ached from exhaustion, and you could barely lift your head to look at Lando, who was pacing the living room.

“I’ve got this,” Lando announced confidently, his voice momentarily louder than the wails of your newborn.

He cradled your son in his arms, gently swaying back and forth. “Alright, buddy, what’s wrong? You hungry? Tired? Bored? Yeah, same, honestly.”

“Lando,” you groaned, muffled by the pillow, “he’s a baby, not a pit crew member.”

He ignored you, crouching slightly as he made exaggerated eye contact with your son. “Okay, listen, mate. I need some feedback here. Blink twice if you’re hungry. Cry louder if you’re overtired. Just... give me something to work with.”

Your son, predictably, kept crying, his tiny fists flailing in the air. Lando sighed dramatically. “Tough crowd. Alright, plan B.”

“Plan B?” you asked, lifting the pillow just enough to raise an eyebrow at him.

Without answering, Lando started bouncing lightly on his heels, his voice dropping into a soft hum.

At first, you couldn’t place the tune, but after a moment it hit you- he was humming the McLaren theme tune.

The one he used to play in the car after races, the one that made its way into every highlight reel.

“Are you seriously singing a racing anthem to our newborn?” you asked, your voice half-incredulous, half-amused.

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it,” he replied, a teasing grin on his face. “Besides, it’s working.”

You blinked and realized, to your absolute shock, that Leo's cries were starting to fade. His tiny body relaxed slightly in Lando’s arms, the relentless wailing softening into hiccupping sobs.

“No way,” you muttered, sitting up straighter. “Are you some kind of baby whisperer now?”

Lando smirked, still swaying as he hummed softly to Leo. “What can I say? I’ve got a gift,” he said, casting a quick glance your way. “Or maybe it’s destiny. He’s clearly a McLaren fan already. Chip off the old block, huh?”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you leaned against the doorframe. “Destiny? You hummed one tune, and now you think he’s a fan for life?”

Lando shot you a playful grin, looking down at Leo, whose cries had softened into sleepy hiccups.

“See this? He’s calm now. That’s McLaren magic, love.” He paused, his voice dropping into a mock-serious tone. “That’s right, little man. Team McLaren all the way. We’re a family of winners.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Don’t let your Uncle Carlos hear you say that. He’ll be over here with Ferrari onesies faster than you can say pit stop.”

Lando laughed, rocking Leo gently as the baby’s eyelids fluttered. “Nah, no way. Right, Leo?” He leaned down, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t let Uncle Carlos fool you. Red’s not your color, mate. Papaya suits you better.”

“Lando,” you groaned, trying not to laugh. “He’s a baby, not a brand ambassador. He doesn’t even know what colors are yet!”

Lando shrugged, grinning as he paced the room. “Doesn’t matter. He’s got taste. I mean, look at him- calm, collected, already understanding the importance of good engineering.”

You finally let out a laugh, unable to keep a straight face. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re welcome,” he shot back, shifting his grip to hold the baby closer to his chest. “Seriously, though. I think I’ve found my secret weapon. Next time he cries, I’ll just sing him some F1 radio clips. Maybe a little ‘box, box, box’ to calm him down.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, but you couldn’t stop laughing. “I can’t believe this. Our baby is going to grow up thinking pit stops are a lullaby.”

“Could be worse,” Lando said with a shrug. “He could think Formula 1 isn’t the best sport in the world. Now that would be tragic.”

“Lando,” you deadpanned, “please don’t turn our child into a walking race encyclopedia before he can even walk.”

“No promises,” he replied cheekily, pressing a kiss to the baby’s forehead as he finally, miraculously, drifted off to sleep. “But for now, I’ll settle for a good night’s sleep. For all of us.”

You leaned back against the couch, watching Lando as he gently carried your son to the bassinet. He moved carefully, like he was holding the most precious thing in the world—and, of course, he was. As he laid the baby down and tiptoed back to you, his goofy grin made your heart swell.

“See?” he whispered, sliding onto the couch beside you. “I told you I’ve got this.”

You shook your head with a soft laugh. “Alright, Dad of the Year. Just don’t forget to get me some water next time.”

He winked. “Coming right up, love. Anything else? Snack? Back massage? Pit crew?”

You threw the pillow at him, but you were laughing too hard to aim properly.

—-

The next night wasn’t much better, Leo seemed to have developed a personal vendetta against sleep, and you were convinced he had some kind of sixth sense that detected the exact moment you closed your eyes. The instant your head hit the pillow, his cries filled the room, pulling you out of the haze of near-sleep.

You groaned, rolling over to see Lando already sitting up in bed, his hair sticking up in all directions like he’d just stepped out of a wind tunnel. He rubbed his face, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a pit crew strategy.

“I’ll get him,” he mumbled, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “Stay here.”

But you were already sitting up, determined to share the burden. “No, I’ll go. You did the heavy lifting last night.”

Lando turned, his expression softening despite the exhaustion etched into his features. “Love, you carried Leo for nine months. I’ve got this.”

“You said that last night,” you countered, though your voice lacked the strength to argue properly.

“And I delivered, didn’t I?” he shot back with a teasing grin, standing and heading toward the bassinet before you could protest further.

You flopped back onto the mattress, listening to the soft sounds from nursery next door as Lando picked up your son and began his now-signature routine: the light bouncing, the exaggerated baby talk, and, of course, the humming. This time, the tune wasn’t the McLaren theme, it was his radio message after his first win.

“Let’s gooooo,” he whispered dramatically, his voice soft and playful. “Who’s a little legend? You are. That’s right. Just like Dad, huh? Winning every battle, even the ones against sleep.”

From your spot on the bed, you couldn’t help but smile. His ridiculousness was oddly endearing, and somehow, it worked. The cries began to fade again, replaced by soft hiccups and the occasional sniffle.

Lando returned a few minutes later, cradling your now-snoozing baby with a triumphant expression. “Another successful pit stop,” he declared, easing onto the bed beside you.

“You’re unbelievable,” you said, shaking your head.

“Thank you,” he replied, deadpan, as if you’d just complimented his driving skills.

You sat up, peeking over his shoulder at the peaceful little face nestled against his chest. “You know, if this whole racing thing doesn’t pan out, you might have a future as a baby whisperer.”

He snorted. “Racing will always pan out. But if not, maybe I’ll open a sleep training clinic for newborns. ‘Lando’s Lullabies,’ what do you think?”

You smacked his arm lightly, though you couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped. “I think you’re delusional from lack of sleep.”

“Probably,” he agreed, leaning his head against yours. ��But hey, we’re surviving, right? That’s the real victory.”

You sighed, letting the warmth of his presence wrap around you. “Yeah. We’re surviving.”

“And thriving,” he added, glancing down at the baby. “Well, he’s thriving. We’re hanging by a thread, but that’s what parents do, right?”

“Right,” you murmured, the exhaustion temporarily eclipsed by a deep sense of gratitude. “We’ve got this.”

He grinned, his free arm pulling you close. “That’s the spirit, love. Now, go back to sleep. I’ll stay up a little longer, just in case.”

—-

(A few months later)

The weekend had finally arrived, and with it came a rare sense of relief as Lando’s parents pulled up to the house.

You were sitting on the couch with Leo cradled in your arms, his tiny fists wrapped around your finger.

Lando was sprawled next to you, his head resting on your shoulder, looking just as exhausted as you felt.

The door opened, and Lando's dad, Adam, stepped in first, his face lighting up the moment he saw Leo. “There’s my grandson! Hand him over, I’ve got this,” he said, already reaching out with eager arms.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Not even a hello for us, Adam?”

“Hi, darling,” Adam replied quickly, flashing you a grin before focusing entirely on Leo. “Alright, little man. Granddad’s here. Let’s give your mum and dad a break, yeah?”

Lando’s mom, Cisca, followed closely behind, holding a casserole dish and a tote bag filled with who-knows-what. “And I’m here to make sure this house doesn’t fall apart. You two look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“We haven’t,” Lando said dramatically, sitting up and stretching. “Leo’s been practicing his lung capacity every night. Future Norris athlete in the making.”

“Alright, you two,” Cisca said, setting the bag down and clapping her hands. “You’re officially off duty. Go take a nap, watch a movie, do whatever it is you haven’t had the time to do. We’ve got this.”

“You don’t have to do all this,” you said, though your voice lacked conviction. The idea of a nap, an uninterrupted nap, was already making your body ache in anticipation.

“Sweetheart,” Cisca said, her voice softening as she placed a hand on your arm. “This is what family is for. You’re doing an amazing job, but even superheroes need a break. Let us help.”

Cicsa moved away with a smile, already pulling on a pair of cleaning gloves. “Anyway, I’ve raised two boys and managed Adam. This is a piece of cake.”

“Hey!” Adam called over, bouncing Leo gently. “I resent that.”

“You love it,” Cisca shot back with a wink before turning to you. “Now, shoo. “

You hesitated, glancing at Lando. “Are you sure? The house is a mess, and Leo’s been fussy all morning. I don’t want to dump everything on you two.”

“Nonsense,” Adam said, already bouncing Leo gently. “We’ve raised kids before, remember? This is nothing. Go.”

Lando grinned, nudging you with his elbow. “You heard them. Free babysitters. Let’s not waste this golden opportunity.”

Cisca rolled her eyes fondly as she started tidying the living room, picking up stray baby toys and discarded blankets. “You two deserve a break. Parenting isn’t easy, and you’ve been doing a wonderful job. But everyone needs help sometimes.”

Reluctantly, you let Lando pull you off the couch, your body protesting every movement. “Okay, but if he gets hungry-”

“I know how to warm a bottle,” Cisca interrupted gently, her voice filled with warmth. “We’ll call you if we need anything. Now go.”

As Lando grabbed your hand and led you toward the stairs, you couldn’t help but glance back. Adam was rocking Leo, humming softly, while Cisca was already organizing the clutter in the kitchen.

“They’ve got it,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And we’ve got each other.”

You smiled, leaning into him. “I still feel a little guilty.”

“Don’t,” Lando said firmly, steering you toward the bedroom. “They want to help. And we need this. Just a couple of hours to recharge, yeah?”

You nodded, feeling the weight of the past few sleepless nights begin to fade. “Yeah. You’re right.”

The bedroom was bathed in the soft, warm glow of the sun, the kind of light that made everything feel just a little bit more peaceful.

For once, there was no crying, no laundry to fold, no bottles to sterilize. Downstairs, the gentle hum of Lando’s parents chatting with Leo filled the air, but up here, it was quiet. Blissfully quiet.

You lay sprawled on the bed, your limbs heavy with exhaustion but your heart lighter than it had been in weeks. Lando lay beside you, his head propped up on his hand, watching you with a small, soft smile that made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t in days.

“What?” you asked, your voice a low murmur, too tired to even tease.

He shook his head, his curls falling into his eyes. “Nothing. Just looking at you.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real annoyance in it. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, shifting closer so he could rest his hand lightly on your waist. “But I’m serious. I’ve missed this. Missed you.”

“I’m right here, Lando,” you said softly, though the words felt heavier than you meant them to. You knew what he meant. The chaos of parenthood had left little time for anything else, especially for moments like this.

“No, I mean…” He paused, his fingers gently brushing against the fabric of your shirt, tracing absent patterns. “I’ve missed us. The way we used to just… be, you know? Before all the crying and nappies and figuring out how to keep a tiny human alive.”

Your throat tightened a little at his words, the weight of guilt creeping in again. “I know. I’ve been so caught up in being a mom that I…” You trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

“That you forgot to just be you?” Lando offered, his voice gentle, no trace of judgment.

You nodded, blinking back the sudden sting in your eyes. “Yeah. That.”

He let out a soft sigh, his hand moving to cup your cheek, tilting your face so you were looking at him. His eyes were earnest, filled with that boundless affection that you didn't know what to do with most of the time.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You’re an amazing mom. The best. But before you were Leo’s mom, you were you. The woman I fell in love with. The woman who lights up every room she walks into. And I don’t want you to lose her.”

“I don’t know how to do that, Lando,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “I feel like all I am right now is tired and messy and just… not enough.”

His brow furrowed, and he leaned forward, pressing his lips to your forehead in a lingering kiss. “You are more than enough. You always have been, and you always will be.”

You tried to look away, the intensity of his words clawing at your throat, but he didn’t let you, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. “And you’re still the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” he added, his voice taking on that familiar playful lilt. “Even with the spit-up stains and the messy bun.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Flatterer.”

“Not flattery. Just facts,” he insisted, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth. Then your cheek. Then the tip of your nose. Each kiss was soft and slow, like he was trying to make you believe every word he said.

“Lando…”

“Shh,” he murmured, his lips finally finding yours. The kiss was gentle, filled with a warmth that made your chest ache. It was a reminder, a promise, and a thank you all wrapped into one.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “Thank you for Leo. For everything. For letting me do this life with you.”

Tears prickled at your eyes, but this time they were the good kind. “You don’t have to thank me, Lando. We’re in this together, remember?”

“I know,” he said with a small smile. “But I’m going to thank you anyway. Because you deserve it. And because I don’t say it enough.”

He pulled you closer then, wrapping his arms around you as if he could shield you from every ounce of exhaustion and doubt you carried. For a moment, you let yourself melt into him, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“I love you,” he said softly, his lips brushing against your hair. “And I love Leo. But I don’t ever want you to forget- you’re more than just a mom, yeah?”

—

The morning light streamed through the curtains, soft and golden, bathing the room in a peaceful glow. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you woke up feeling truly rested.

No cries echoing through the baby monitor, no bleary-eyed stumbles in the middle of the night. Just the warmth of the bed, the sound of birds chirping outside, and the gentle rise and fall of Lando’s chest as he lay beside you.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you turned your head to find him already awake, his curls messy and his face relaxed in a way that made him look impossibly boyish. His eyes met yours, and a slow, lazy grin spread across his lips.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice husky from sleep.

“Morning,” you replied, your own smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Did we really just sleep through the night?”

Lando stretched, his arm snaking around your waist to pull you closer. "Looks like it," he whispered. "Feels illegal, honestly. Like we’re breaking some kind of parental code."

You let out a soft laugh, your hand instinctively resting on his chest. “I forgot what it feels like to be this… alive.”

“Same,” he said, his grin turning cheeky. “Although, I don’t think we should waste this newfound energy.”

Before you could reply, Lando leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was warm and slow at first, but quickly deepened into something more heated. His hand slid up your back, pulling you flush against him as his other hand tangled in your hair.

“Lando…” you mumbled against his lips, pulling back slightly. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing,” he said, his grin widening as he trailed kisses down your jaw and back to your mouth. “I’ve just missed kissing you like this. No interruptions, no spit-up, no baby monitor beeping at us..”

His lips captured yours again, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in it, the world narrowing down to the warmth of his body and the way his hand slid up your side. But then reality came crashing back, and you pulled away just enough to mumble, “Lando, my body’s… not ready for anything. You know that, right?”

He pulled back, raising an eyebrow and looking at you like you’d just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “Well, obviously. Don’t doubt my research, babe.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, smacking his chest lightly. “Your research?”

“Yes, my research,” he said with mock seriousness, leaning back down to kiss you again. “I’m well-informed, thank you very much. And I know exactly what you need right now- just this.”

He kissed you again, slower this time, his hand cupping your cheek as if to prove his point.

“Just kissing,” he murmured between kisses. “No pressure, no expectations. I just want you.”

You sighed into the kiss, your hands finding their way into his messy curls. It had been so long since you’d felt this close to him, and it was intoxicating. The way he kissed you made you feel like you were the center of his universe, like he couldn’t get enough of you.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting together.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he said, his voice rough.

“Me too,” you admitted, your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, he spoke again, his voice lighter now. “So… what do you think about getting a cleaner?”

You blinked, pulling back slightly to look at him. “A cleaner?”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging one shoulder. “Not full-time or anything. Just someone to help out a few days a week. Give us a little breathing room with the chores. Time to, you know…” He smirked, leaning in to steal another quick kiss. “Do this more often.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible but practical,” he corrected, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look at you properly. “Not full-time or anything. Just someone to help out a few days a week.“

You bit your lip, considering it. The idea of having some extra help was tempting, but you weren’t sure how you felt about leaving Leo with someone else, even for a few hours.

You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip. “I don’t know, Lando. I mean, I love being with Leo. I don’t want to miss anything.”

“And you won’t,” he reassured you, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I feel like I should be able to handle everything. Like... isn’t that what moms are supposed to do?" you admitted.

"Hey," he said, tipping your chin up so you were looking at him. "You’re already handling everything. And you’re doing it brilliantly. But there’s no rule that says you have to do it all alone. Asking for help doesn’t make you any less of an amazing mom. It just means you’re human."

His words hit you harder than you expected, and you felt a lump form in your throat. "You really think it’s a good idea?"

"I do," he said firmly. "But only if it’s what you want. We’ll make it work either way. I just want to make sure you’re okay, love. That we’re okay.”

“Just think about it. No rush. No pressure. But if it means more mornings like this… it might be worth it.”

He kissed you again, and you couldn’t help but melt into him, your worries momentarily forgotten. For now, all that mattered was this moment, the two of you, together, with nothing else in the world but the warmth of his touch and the way he made you feel like you were still the most important thing in his life.

—

After some thought and plenty of conversations, you and Lando finally decided to hire someone.

It wasn’t a full-time helper, just someone to help around the house, take care of the cleaning, and keep things a little more organized.

You still handled all of Leo’s needs together, but the weight of the mess hanging around, making everything feel just a little more overwhelming, was finally lifted.

A few days of the cleaner settling in, things felt noticeably smoother. The house no longer looked like a war zone, and the chaos of being first-time parents seemed a little less overwhelming with the clutter finally under control.

One evening, after you’d finally gotten Leo to sleep and both of you had managed to survive a particularly difficult round of diaper duty, you and Lando flopped onto the couch.

He stretched out dramatically, groaning like he’d just completed a marathon.

“Okay, I don’t care what anyone says. Getting Leo to bed is like running a 5K.” Lando let out a deep sigh, making a show of rubbing his temples as if he’d just solved world peace.

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your amusement. “Oh, please. You’re a Formula 1 driver. Getting a baby to sleep should be a walk in the park compared to dodging crashes and tight corners.”

Lando shot you a side-eye, his lips quirking into a teasing grin. “Pfft. Formula 1 doesn't prepare you for a baby that won’t stop crying. No amount of pit stops will save you from that chaos.”

“True,” you said with a chuckle, snuggling up against him. “But at least we’re not cleaning up a whole pit crew’s worth of mess every two hours anymore.”

Lando kissed the top of your head and sighed in contentment. “Thank God for that.”

—

Lando was sitting on the floor, his legs crossed as he gently held Leo in his arms. The baby’s little hands gripped onto his fingers, his tiny face still a little scrunched in concentration.

You were watching from the couch, feeling a quiet sense of joy as you observed the two of them, when it happened.

Leo, with a little puff of air, let out the tiniest, most uncoordinated gummy smile. It wasn’t much, just a small curve of his lips, but to Lando, it was everything.

Lando froze, eyes wide as his gaze locked onto Leo’s face. He blinked, then blinked again, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“Did… did he just-” His voice cracked, and before he could finish, tears welled up in his eyes.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “He smiled at me. He smiled.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, watching as Lando’s expression shifted from disbelief to pure adoration. He looked down at Leo, his hand trembling as he brushed a lock of hair away from the baby’s face.

Leo cooed softly, clearly content, and gave him another gummy smile. That was it. Lando completely lost it.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna cry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “My son… my son smiled at me.”

Lando cradled Leo in his arms, his gaze fixed on the baby with a mixture of awe and absolute adoration. He swayed back and forth, humming softly under his breath, as though trying to coax some kind of miracle out of his little son.

"Mama’s turn now," Lando said in a voice full of tenderness, walking toward you with Leo facing you. "Smile at Mama, Leo!"

You leaned forward, your hands resting on your knees as you watched Lando’s every move, heart swelling. “You think he’s really going to smile on cue?”

“Just wait,” Lando said with a grin, gently bouncing Leo. "Look at Mama, little man. Show her your big, gummy smile!"

For a moment, there was only the soft sound of Lando’s voice, and then... it happened. Leo’s face scrunched up as he stared up at you with those big, innocent eyes. And then, like a flash of light, his lips curled up in the tiniest, most precious gummy smile.

You felt your heart explode. Without even thinking, you reached a hand to cover your mouth as a soft sob escaped. "Oh my God," you whispered, tears already brimming. "He smiled at me, Lando."

Both of you stared at Leo, the tiny bundle who had no idea he had just performed the greatest act of cuteness in the history of parenthood. He just blinked up at you both, totally clueless, his little hands batting in the air, completely unaware of the emotional chaos he’d triggered.

Lando’s voice was shaky as he looked at you, a tear slipping down his cheek. "Look at him. He’s perfect. He’s ours. He smiled, love. He smiled!"

You were laughing and crying at the same time, shaking your head in disbelief. "I can’t. This is... too much."

Lando gently shifted Leo so that he was facing you both, as if presenting him to you like the greatest treasure. "See, buddy?" Lando whispered to Leo, his voice thick with emotion. "You’re gonna break hearts with that smile. Just like your mama."

You wiped away a tear, reaching out a hand to gently touch Leo’s tiny foot. "I can’t believe how much I love you two," you said, your voice barely a whisper.

Lando was full-on crying now, unable to contain the tears as he held Leo to his chest again, taking a deep breath and wiping his eyes. “I didn’t know it was possible to love you more every day,” he said, voice cracking with emotion. “But then... he does that,” he gestured lazily at Leo, “and suddenly I love you both a thousand times more.”

You reached up to gently wipe a tear from his cheek, your hand trembling just slightly. "I know," you whispered, leaning in to kiss him softly. "I love you both too."

Leo, completely unaware of the full emotional depth of the moment, simply gurgled in his sleep, his hands curling into fists, still smiling in his own little, clueless way.

You laughed softly, your voice still thick with emotion. "He’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen."

"Yeah," Lando agreed, his voice still a little raw. "He’s perfect. And he’s ours. I didn’t know I could feel like this,” he said, choking on his words, his voice cracking even more. “I’m so proud. I’m just… so proud of him already.”

You got up from the couch, walking over to where Lando was, a small, amused smile playing on your lips. You kneeled beside him, brushing your hand gently against his arm. “You’re a mess, you know that?”

Lando wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, his face flushed with both emotion and embarrassment. “I didn’t sign up for this,” he said, looking at you through misty eyes. “This whole dad thing is gonna kill me. I can’t handle it.”

—

Lando was peacefully asleep on the couch, his arm draped lazily over his face, a soft snore escaping his lips as he lay on his back. Leo was nestled against his chest, his tiny hands swiping aimlessly as he slowly woke up, blinking his big eyes in the morning light.

You sat on the edge of the couch, your heart swelling as you watched the two of them. The sight was adorable- Lando, always so composed, now a soft, unguarded mess with your son lying on top of him. You leaned in to scoop Leo up for a cuddle, ready to give Lando a break from baby duty.

But just as you reached down to lift Leo, you froze. Leo’s tiny hand shot out, and in one swift move, he grabbed onto Lando’s nose with both little fists.

You stifled a laugh as Lando remained blissfully unaware, still deep in his sleep. Leo, on the other hand, was gripping his dad's nose like it was the most important thing in the world, his little fingers digging in as if holding onto a treasure.

You leaned over and tried to carefully pry Leo’s hand off his dad’s face, but Leo wasn't having any of it. His grip tightened, and he let out a soft giggle of his own, clearly delighted by his newfound power.

"No way, Leo," you whispered through your giggles. "Let go of Daddy’s nose."

But Leo just grinned and gave an enthusiastic tug, which only made you laugh harder. Lando, still unaware, snored a little louder, completely oblivious to the tiny assault on his nose.

You tried again to pull Leo away, but it was no use. Leo refused to let go. The more you tried, the more Leo seemed to cling to his dad’s nose with newfound determination.

"You little troublemaker," you giggled, your fingers now gently tickling Leo’s side in an attempt to distract him. "Daddy’s gonna wake up with a nose full of baby drool, and you're gonna be the one to blame."

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of baby antics, Lando stirred slightly. His eyes fluttered open, and he blinked, clearly confused as to why he felt a strange sensation on his nose. He looked down, and his gaze immediately landed on Leo, still gripping his nose like it was the most important thing in the world.

Lando blinked a few times, his lips twitching into a smile. "Leo..." he said groggily, his voice thick with sleep. "What are you doing, buddy?"

You couldn’t contain your laughter anymore, and you let out a full giggle. "He’s got you, Lando. He won’t let go."

Lando’s eyes softened as he looked at Leo, who was grinning back at him, completely unaware of the trouble he’d caused. "Well, guess I’m stuck with this now, huh?" Lando chuckled, gently moving Leo’s tiny hand from his nose. “I guess I should be flattered.”

You leaned in to kiss Lando on the cheek, still giggling. "You should be. I think Leo just claimed you as his personal jungle gym."

Lando smiled, finally fully awake now, and carefully lifted Leo off his chest, giving him a small kiss on the forehead. "Guess he loves me more than I thought."

"Just wait until he starts grabbing your hair," you teased.

Lando laughed, giving Leo a soft, affectionate squeeze. "I’ll take it. It’s just another part of the adventure."

You watched the two of them, your heart full. “Yeah. Another adventure,” you agreed softly, feeling the warmth of your little family wrap around you.

—

It was one of those rare, quiet afternoons. Sunlight poured through the windows, casting a soft glow over the living room where you sat with Leo cradled in your arms. His tiny body was warm against yours, his head nestled just beneath your chin. You were humming softly, tracing little patterns on his back, lost in your own world.

But Leo? Leo was in his own universe and it revolved entirely around you.

He tilted his head back slightly, his wide, curious eyes locking onto your face like you were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

His little hands reached up, fingers brushing against your cheek. Every time you moved, even slightly, his gaze followed with a level of intensity that would’ve made a detective jealous.

“Hey there, buddy,” you whispered, smiling down at him. “What’s got you so mesmerized?”

Leo didn’t answer, of course. He just blinked at you, his big, gummy smile spreading across his face like sunshine breaking through clouds.

“Is it the song?” you teased, tilting your head. “Or are you just checking to see if I’m as tired as I feel?”

Lando walked in from the kitchen, a glass of water in his hand, and froze when he saw the two of you. “Oh my god,” he whispered, his voice laced with awe. “He’s in love with you.”

You looked up, confused but amused. “What are you talking about?”

“Look at him!” Lando exclaimed, setting the glass down and gesturing dramatically toward Leo. “He’s completely starstruck. Like, I’m his dad, but apparently, you’re Beyoncé or something.”

You laughed softly, glancing back down at Leo. “He’s a baby, Lando. Babies just... stare.”

“Not like this,” Lando countered, crouching beside the couch to get a closer look. He waved a hand in front of Leo’s face, trying to catch his attention, but Leo didn’t even blink. His gaze stayed fixed on you, unwavering.

“See?” Lando said, throwing his hands up. “I don’t exist. You’re his whole world.”

“Well,” you said with a sly smile, “can you blame him?”

Lando laughed, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Not even a little bit.”

Leo, as if sensing that his dad was stealing your attention, let out a little coo of protest. His tiny hand reached up again, this time gripping a strand of your hair.

“Oh, you’re possessive now, huh?” you teased, gently prying his fingers loose. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

Lando watched the exchange with a grin, shaking his head. “I don’t stand a chance, do I?”

Leo giggled at you, a sound so pure and joyful that both you and Lando couldn’t help but laugh along.

“Well,” Lando said, sitting down beside you, “if he’s this obsessed with you now, just wait until he starts talking. First word’s gonna be ‘Mama’ for sure.”

You shrugged, smirking. “I mean, I am pretty great.”

“Understatement of the year,” Lando muttered, leaning in to kiss your temple.

Leo babbled something incomprehensible, his voice full of excitement, as if trying to join the conversation. You looked back down at him, your heart swelling.

“Don’t worry, baby,” you said softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I love you, too.”

Leo responded with another gummy smile, and Lando groaned, clutching his chest.

“I’m gonna die,” he said dramatically. “He’s too cute. You’re too cute. I can’t handle this.”

You laughed, leaning into Lando’s side as the three of you basked in the warmth of the moment, your little family feeling more perfect than ever.

A few hours later and you were lounging on the couch, Leo nestled snugly against your chest. His tiny fingers clung to your shirt, his cheek resting against you as he babbled softly. You were exhausted but content, brushing a hand gently over his downy hair.

Lando appeared in the doorway, fresh from a shower, his hair damp and tousled. He grinned at the sight of the two of you, still where he had left you earlier to go running to get the workout his personal trainer required him. "Alright, mama. Your turn to rest," he said, striding over confidently. "Hand him over."

You chuckled softly, shifting slightly. "I don’t think he’s going to like that."

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lando said, reaching for Leo. “Come on, buddy. Let’s give Mama a break. You’ve hogged her long enough.”

But as soon as Lando’s hands gently tried to lift Leo away, your son let out a whiny little wail, clutching at your shirt like his life depended on it. His face scrunched up, and he made a series of dramatic, pitiful noises, burying his head against you.

Lando froze, blinking at Leo in disbelief. “Whoa, whoa, whoa- what’s this?”

You tried to hold back a laugh, rubbing Leo’s back soothingly. “I told you. He’s a mama’s boy right now.”

“Mama’s boy?” Lando repeated, his tone almost offended. “Leo, mate, you’re killing me here. What happened to our father-son bond? Remember? McLaren lullabies? Matching outfits? No?”

Leo let out another whimper and clung tighter, making it abundantly clear that no, he did not care about any of that right now.

“Unbelievable,” Lando muttered, dropping his hands to his hips. “You’re supposed to be my biggest fan, and you’re ditching me for her?”

“Can you blame him?” you teased, smiling up at Lando. “I mean, I did carry him for nine months. We’ve got history.”

Lando scoffed, sitting on the armrest of the couch, his arms crossed. “Alright, fine. I’ll just sit here and wait until he decides I’m worthy of his time again. No big deal.”

You laughed softly, adjusting Leo slightly so he could peek at his dad. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. He loves you. He’s just... clingy today.”

Lando leaned in closer, his face inches from Leo’s. “Hey, buddy,” he said in a mock serious tone. “You’re breaking my heart, you know that? At least give me a smile or something.”

Leo peeked at him, his little mouth forming an ‘O’ as if considering it, but then he tucked his face back into your neck with a happy sigh.

“Wow,” Lando said, throwing his hands up. “Rejected. Completely rejected. I’m never going to recover from this.”

You reached out with your free hand, tugging playfully at Lando’s arm. “Oh, stop. You’ll get your turn when he’s in a dad mood.”

“When’s that gonna be? Next year?” Lando quipped, though his grin gave away that he wasn’t really upset.

You tilted your head, resting it against the couch. “Maybe when he starts talking. He might surprise you and say ‘Dada’ first.”

Lando’s face lit up at the idea, his competitive streak kicking in. “Oh, he better say ‘Dada’ first. Otherwise, I’m taking him to every Grand Prix until he changes his mind.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at him fondly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you love me,” he replied, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. Then, after a beat, he pressed a soft kiss to Leo’s, earning himself a tiny, curious glance.

“See, Leo?” Lando said, grinning at his son. “I’m not so bad. Maybe next time, you’ll pick Dad, huh?”

Leo cooed softly, his tiny hand reaching out toward Lando’s face as if to placate him, and Lando laughed.

“Alright,” he said, standing back up. “You win this round, little guy. But don’t get too comfortable. Dad’s coming for you.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to Leo’s head as he settled contentedly against you. “I think we’re both lucky to have you, Lando. Even if he’s playing favorites today.”

Lando shot you a cheeky grin. “Damn right you’re lucky. Just wait until tomorrow. I’ll bring out the big guns- he won’t be able to resist.”

“Big guns?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ll see,” Lando said cryptically, heading toward the kitchen. “Just you wait, Mama’s boy.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head, as Leo cooed happily in your arms, blissfully unaware of the competition brewing between his parents.

—

The house was unusually quiet that evening, save for the faint hum of the baby monitor on the kitchen counter.

You were finishing up the dishes when you noticed Lando sitting on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands. His hair was a mess from running his fingers through it, something he only did when he was stressed.

You dried your hands and walked over, sitting beside him.

Leo was already asleep in his crib, giving you both a rare moment of peace, but Lando’s usual lighthearted demeanor was absent.

"Hey," you said softly, resting a hand on his shoulder. "What’s on your mind?"

He sighed heavily, sitting back and looking at you with tired eyes. "Season’s starting back up soon."

You nodded. "I know. It’s what you love, though. You’ve been itching to get back out there."

"Yeah, I have," he admitted, but his voice was far from excited. "It’s just... different this time."

You tilted your head, encouraging him to continue.

"I don’t want to miss anything," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Leo’s growing so fast already, and what if I miss his first word? Or the first time he crawls? What if he forgets me when I’m gone too much? He’s so little, and I just... I don’t want him to feel like I’m not around."

Your heart broke a little at his words.

Lando was always so confident, but being a dad had softened him in ways you didn’t expect.

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. "You’re not going to miss everything, Lando. We’re coming with you, remember?"

"I know," he said, wrapping an arm around you instinctively. "But it’s not the same. You’ll be in the hotel most of the time. I’ll be at the track all day. And then there’s the traveling, the media, the briefings... It’s not like I can just pop in whenever I want."

"You’re doing your best," you reassured him. "And that’s all that matters. Leo’s not going to forget you just because you’re working. He’s going to grow up knowing his dad is chasing his dreams."

"But he’s my dream too," Lando whispered, his voice cracking. "I love racing, but I love you and Leo more. And I don’t want either of you to feel like you’re second to anything."

You sat up and cupped his face in your hands, making him look at you. "Lando Norris, you are an amazing dad and an amazing partner. Racing doesn’t take away from that. If anything, it adds to it. You’re showing Leo what it means to work hard for something you’re passionate about. And no matter how busy things get, you always come back to us. That’s what he’ll remember."

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing as he let out another sigh. "You’re way too good at this pep talk thing, you know."

You smiled. "Comes with the territory. Now, instead of worrying, why don’t you focus on the things you can do? Like making sure you get as much time with Leo as possible before you leave for Bahrain."

Lando nodded, his resolve strengthening. "You’re right. I’ll make every second count."

"We’ll be cheering you on," you said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Always."

"Love you," he murmured, pulling you into his arms.

"We love you too," you whispered back, knowing that no matter how challenging the season ahead would be, you’d face it together.

—

The door to the hotel room creaked open, and you looked up from the couch where you sat with Leo perched on your lap.

The tension in Lando’s shoulders was evident as he stepped inside, his eyes shadowed with the weight of a race that hadn’t gone his way.

His hair was still damp from a quick post-race shower at the track, hoodie lazily thrown on.

He dropped his bag by the door and leaned against the wall for a moment, rubbing a hand down his face. You could see the frustration in every line of his posture, and your heart ached for him.

“Hey,” you called softly, trying not to wake Leo, who was already babbling quietly as he played with your fingers.

Lando’s eyes found yours, and just like that, some of the tension began to melt away. His gaze shifted to Leo, whose bright aquamarine eyes lit up the moment he saw his dad. Tiny hands waved enthusiastically, and Lando couldn’t help but smile.

“Hey, mate,” he murmured, crossing the room to kneel beside you both. “You’ve been good for your mum?”

Leo giggled in response, his baby talk filling the room. Lando reached out to gently tickle his son’s belly, his earlier frustration slowly dissolving into soft chuckles as Leo squirmed and cooed.

“I missed you two,” Lando said quietly, his eyes meeting yours. He leaned forward to kiss your forehead, then pressed a soft kiss to Leo’s chubby cheek. “Needed this more than I thought.”

Leo’s babbling grew more excited, and he suddenly clapped his hands before blurting out, “Buh! Buh! Buh! Booooox!”

Both you and Lando froze for a second, staring at each other in disbelief.

“Did he just-”

“Did he just say box box box?” you finished, already starting to laugh.

Lando’s jaw dropped before he burst into a mix of laughter and disbelief. “No way. His first words are box box box! Are you kidding me?!”

You were laughing so hard tears were threatening to spill from your eyes. “Oh my God, Lando. All that time spent listening to the race engineers is paying off! He’s already a little racer!”

Lando gently scooped Leo up, holding him high in the air as the baby giggled uncontrollably.

“Leo, mate, you’ve got the timing of a legend! First words straight out of a pit wall broadcast. Unbelievable!”

Leo’s babbling continued, his gummy smile stretching wide as he seemed to revel in the attention.

Lando pressed his forehead to Leo’s, his voice filled with affection. “You’re perfect, you know that? Absolute perfection. Even if you’ve cursed me to never hear the end of this from Uncle Max.”

You leaned over to kiss Lando’s cheek, your laughter settling into a warm smile. “Well, at least we know he’s paying attention during the races.”

Lando turned to look at you, his eyes soft and full of love. “You two make everything better, you know that? Worst race of my life, and here I am, happier than ever because of this little guy and his genius first words.”

“Buh-buh-buh!” Leo squealed again, reaching out to grab Lando’s nose.

“Yeah, yeah, box box box, I hear you, mate,” Lando said, his voice thick with laughter and adoration.

—

The moment came out of nowhere, as so many milestones do.

You were finishing up your nighttime skincare routine while Lando sat on the floor, trying to coax Leo to take a step.

Leo stood wobbling on his chubby little legs, his hands stretched out in front of him for balance.

“Come on, mate,” Lando encouraged, holding his arms out. “One step. Just one! You’ve got this.”

You looked up, a soft smile playing on your lips. “He’s been teasing you with this for weeks, hasn’t he?”

“Don’t jinx it!” Lando shot back with a grin, his eyes glued to Leo.

Leo’s face was scrunched in determination, his tongue poking out as if it helped his balance. Then, with the tiniest of shuffles, he lifted one foot and took a step.

“YES!” Lando’s shout nearly startled the poor baby into toppling over, but Leo took another step toward his dad, and then another, his arms swinging wildly for balance.

You gasped, nearly dropping the serum you were holding. “Oh my God, he’s doing it!”

Leo stumbled into Lando’s arms, laughing triumphantly as his dad scooped him up and spun him around. “That’s my boy! First steps! Did you see that, babe? He’s a natural.”

You were on your feet in an instant, rushing over to join them. “I saw it! Our little walker!”

Leo’s giggles turned into a proud little babble as Lando kissed the top of his head, his own grin so wide it looked like it might split his face.

Over the next few days, Leo was unstoppable. His clumsy little walk turned into a full-on mission to copy everything you and Lando did. If Lando was stretching, Leo mimicked him, though his version mostly involved falling over. When you bent down to pick something up, Leo would squat and then sit on his bottom like it was the same thing.

“Look at him!” Lando said one afternoon, watching as Leo tried to copy his dad tying his sneakers. “He’s like a little shadow. A very uncoordinated, very adorable shadow.”

Leo looked up at his dad with wide eyes, then toddled over and wrapped his arms around Lando’s leg, babbling nonsense.

“Aw, buddy, you’re killing me here,” Lando said, scooping him up. “You’re too cute. I can’t handle it.”

—

The sound of the private jet’s engines starting up hummed softly beneath your feet as you held Leo in your arms, walking down the narrow aisle towards the seats.

You could feel his tiny hand gripping your finger as you set him down on his feet, his little body still a bit unsteady as he tried to mimic your movements.

It was one of those moments that felt like time slowed down, as Leo tried to take a few wobbly steps toward Lando, who was already settled in his seat, grinning widely at his son.

“Come on, little man,” Lando called out, his voice light with amusement. “You can do it. Show mama how it’s done.”

You smiled at him, your heart swelling as you watched Leo try to imitate Lando’s movements, his knees wobbling slightly as he took another hesitant step forward.

The jet's gentle swaying seemed to make it harder, but Leo was determined. With every step he took, his little face lit up with the biggest grin, his wide eyes sparkling like he was proud of himself for trying.

“You’re a natural, Leo,” you said softly, helping him balance with your hand on his back. “Just like your dad.”

Leo looked up at you then, his smile widening before he reached for you.

He babbled excitedly, his voice higher-pitched and full of joy, and you laughed as you scooped him up, feeling his small arms wrap around your neck in a tight hug.

He was practically vibrating with happiness. You couldn’t help but melt into the feeling, his love so pure and contagious that it left you breathless.

“He really loves you,” Lando said with a grin, watching as Leo snuggled into your arms. “I think you might be his favorite.”

“Of course, I am,” you teased, pressing a kiss to Leo’s cheek. “He knows who takes care of him when he needs snacks, cuddles, and all the kisses.”

Leo giggled, his baby talk coming out in a string of adorable babbles as he snuggled closer to you. “Mama!” he squealed, his little voice bouncing off the walls of the plane, and you couldn’t help but smile in return.

“That’s right, buddy,” you whispered, looking at Lando with a playful smirk. “Mama’s got you.”

Lando laughed softly, clearly charmed by the scene.

You gently bounced Leo on your hip as you made your way to the seats. “It’s alright, babe. You’re still my number one, even if Leo’s stealing all the attention.”

Leo, sensing that he was the center of it all, let out a cheerful little giggle, reaching for Lando as if asking for his dad to hold him too.

“Okay, okay,” Lando laughed, scooting over and extending his arms. “You’ve made your point, little man.”

You handed Leo to Lando, watching as the two of them shared a moment. Leo rested his tiny head against his dad’s chest as Lando sat back in his seat, humming a soft tune to calm him down.

—

When Leo was still barely a year old, you and Lando found yourselves having the same conversation over and over.

You didn’t know if Leo would end up following in Lando’s footsteps or if he’d develop his own passions, but you both agreed that it was important to plan for his future- just in case.

Sitting together in the living room, watching Leo take wobbly steps across the floor, Lando turned to you with a smile. “I know we’re still a long way off, but... have you thought about what kind of school we want for Leo?”

You shrugged, absentmindedly brushing a stray lock of hair from Leo’s forehead.

“It’s hard to say, isn’t it? He’s barely one, but I’ve been thinking about it too. I guess we can’t decide now, but I think it’s smart to start planning. I mean, who knows what his interests will be?”

Lando nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah. He might not be into racing, or even sports. But I can’t help but think about the possibility of him wanting to do something like I did. I don’t want to push him, but...” His voice trailed off as he watched Leo take another shaky step.

“I know,” you said softly, smiling as Leo giggled and reached for you. “It’s hard not to think about it. I just want him to have the freedom to choose what he loves, even if that’s not racing.”

Lando’s expression softened. “Of course. But what if he does? I want to make sure he has options, you know? Like, if he’s into it, I’d love for him to have that foundation. But if he’s not... then I don’t want him to feel forced into it.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, knowing how much racing meant to him. “I get it. It’s not just about racing, though. It’s about having choices. I think we should focus on giving him a well-rounded education, one that could adapt to whatever he wants to do. But I also think it’s important to keep in mind how we’ll handle it if he does decide to race, just in case.”

Lando sighed, watching Leo playfully crawl towards his toy car. “Yeah. Maybe we should start looking into schools that would allow for flexibility. That way, if he does want to race, it won’t interfere too much with his education.”

“Yeah,” you said, watching Leo’s face light up as he grabbed his toy and started pushing it across the floor. “And if he doesn’t want to race, we’ll make sure he has every opportunity to explore whatever else he’s passionate about.”

Lando grinned. “Whatever he ends up doing, I’ll be proud. Just... as long as he doesn’t bring me another toy car to fix. That’s my job.”

You laughed, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “I think he might just follow in your footsteps on that one.”

“Maybe. But for now, we’ve got plenty of time to figure it out.” Lando took your hand and squeezed it.

—

As you stepped into the paddock, Leo securely tucked in Lando’s arms, you couldn’t help but notice how everyone’s attention turned to your little boy.

His bright orange McLaren headphones looked comically large on his head, his curls bouncing with every slight movement.

Despite the overwhelming sights and sounds, Leo’s aquamarine eyes darted around, wide with curiosity.

“Alright, little man,” Lando murmured, adjusting Leo’s jacket, complete with a tiny McLaren logo stitched on the chest. “This is where Dad works. Cool, right? Your dad’s a bit of a big deal here.”

You smirked as you walked beside them. “He’s modest too. Make sure you learn that, Leo.”

Lando turned to you, raising a brow. “What can I say? He should know the truth.” Then, looking at Leo, he grinned. “We’ll save the really cool stuff for when you can talk.”

One of the engineers wandered over, grinning. “Well, well, if it isn’t our new recruit. Welcome, Leo. Hope you’re ready to carry the team.”

Leo giggled at the commotion, clumsily reaching out toward the engineer’s shiny name badge.

“Watch out,” you warned, leaning away. “If it’s shiny, he’s going to grab it.”

“Just like his dad and a trophy,” the engineer quipped, dodging Leo’s little hands.

Leo’s delighted squeals made the whole team stop and stare for a moment, their smiles softening as he wriggled excitedly, his tiny hands grabbing at the air as if trying to reach for the brightly colored McLaren car parked nearby.

One of the mechanics leaned in with a smile, handing Leo a miniature wrench.

“For the next pit stop,” the mechanic joked. “Gotta train ‘em young!”

Leo grabbed the wrench with a look of awe, his gummy smile lighting up the entire garage.

“Careful,” Lando said, laughing. “You give him that, and he’s going to think he’s part of the crew.”

“Isn’t he already?” the team’s PR manager chimed in, snapping a photo of Lando and Leo. “This might be our cutest team member yet.”

“I’m telling you,” Lando said, looking around. “This kid’s already got star power. I give it, what, two years before Zak offers him a contract?”

“Let’s aim for potty training first,” you teased, running a hand through Leo’s curls. “Then he can talk strategy.”

Zak wandered over at that moment, his gaze flicking from Leo to Lando. “He’s stealing the show already, isn’t he?”

“Obviously,” Lando said, grinning. “Look at him! He’s got the McLaren spirit.”

Leo babbled loudly, throwing his arms in the air as if he were agreeing. Everyone laughed, and Lando looked at you, his expression softening for just a moment.

“You sure he’s not overwhelmed?” he asked quietly, his voice just for you.

You smiled, resting a hand on his arm. “He’s fine. He’s curious, just like someone else I know.”

Leo, now grabbing at the zipper on Lando’s race suit, interrupted the moment with a loud, joyful squeal.

“Alright, alright,” Lando said, laughing as he adjusted Leo. “You’re the boss, mate.”

After Lando handed Leo back to you, his bright orange headphones still perched comically on his tiny head, he knelt to Leo’s level one last time before heading to the car.

“Alright, buddy,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to Leo’s curls. “Daddy’s going to go really fast now, okay? Cheer for me.”

Leo babbled something incomprehensible, his little hands reaching out to pat Lando’s face. Lando chuckled, leaning into the touch as if it were the best encouragement he could get.

“See? He already knows I’m winning,” Lando joked, standing and giving you a quick kiss on the forehead. “Take care of my little number one fan.”

“We’ll be cheering from the best seats in the house,” you assured him, adjusting Leo on your hip. “Go make us proud.”

As Lando disappeared into the chaos of the garage, you carried Leo to the viewing area, a private box where you could watch the race without overwhelming him. The hum of engines roaring to life filled the air, and Leo’s eyes grew impossibly wide at the sight of the cars pulling out onto the track.

“Look, Leo,” you cooed, pointing toward the screen showing Lando’s car. “There’s Daddy. See the orange car? That’s him.”

Leo squirmed excitedly in your arms, babbling in response as if he understood. His tiny fists waved in the air, his gaze locked on the screen.

As the race began, you couldn’t help but glance between the screen and your son. His fascination was evident, his aquamarine eyes following the cars as they sped around the track.

Occasionally, he’d let out a squeal, clapping his hands together, and it made your heart swell.

“Is Daddy fast?” you asked playfully.

Leo responded with a delighted giggle, his curls bouncing as he nodded. Whether it was intentional or just random excitement, you weren’t sure, but it made you laugh anyway.

When Lando pulled off a daring overtake, you clapped softly, careful not to startle Leo. “See that, little man? That’s Daddy being awesome.”

Leo responded by slapping his chubby hands against your chest and squealing, his energy contagious.

By the time the race ended, Lando had finished in a respectable position—maybe not a podium, but enough to make you proud. As he approached the garage for post-race celebrations and interviews, you and Leo made your way down to meet him.

The moment Lando stepped into view, sweaty and slightly disheveled but glowing with the post-race adrenaline, Leo practically launched himself toward him, wiggling in your arms and reaching out.

“Alright, alright, mate!” Lando said, laughing as he took Leo from you, holding him close. “You watched me, huh? Did you see how cool I was?”

Leo responded with a string of babbles, his hands patting Lando’s cheeks and tugging at his race suit zipper again.

“He was your biggest fan,” you said, smiling at the sight of the two of them.

“Best fan I’ll ever have,” Lando said, pressing a kiss to Leo’s forehead before looking at you. “And my second best fan is pretty great, too.”

“Oh, I’m second now?” you teased, arching a brow.

“Technically tied,” Lando corrected with a grin, leaning in to kiss you briefly. “Best race ever. Thanks to you two.”

—

It was a sunny afternoon when Adam and Cisca arrived for their visit, the house buzzing with excitement as Leo toddled around, his tiny feet barely keeping up with his boundless energy.

You had been waiting for this moment, knowing how much both Lando’s parents were eager to hear their grandson say his first words to them.

“Cisca, Adam, we’ve been working on something special with Leo,” you said, a playful grin on your face. “I think he’s finally ready to impress you both.”

Cisca, who was sitting on the couch with Adam, leaned forward eagerly. “Oh, don’t tease us. What’s he going to do?”

You gave a small nod toward Leo, who was currently playing with his favorite toy car, completely oblivious to the attention he was about to receive.

Lando was beside him, giving a little encouragement.

“Leo,” Lando said softly, “can you say ‘Grandma’?”

For a moment, Leo just looked up at him, his big aquamarine eyes blinking as if he was deciding whether to humor his dad. Then, in a clear, albeit babyish voice, he uttered, “G-g-gra-ma!”

The room fell silent for a split second, before Cisca gasped and clapped her hands.

“He said it! He really said it!” Her eyes were wide with excitement, and she immediately reached for Leo, pulling him into her arms as she showered him with kisses.

Adam laughed, his arms crossed as he watched Cisca fawn over Leo. “Well, it looks like we have a new favorite around here.”

Cisca, still holding Leo, smiled warmly. “He’s a natural,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

Lando grinned, clearly proud, but there was a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Alright, buddy. Let’s see if you can do ‘Grandpa’ now.”

Leo’s face lit up at the challenge, and he looked up at Lando with a wide grin. “G-g-pa!” he said, a little clearer this time, as though he’d been practicing in secret.

Cisca and Adam both looked at each other in amazement before bursting into laughter. “He did it!”

You couldn’t help but smile, watching your son, so small yet already full of surprises.

Lando, beaming, scooped Leo into his arms, lifting him high in the air. “Good job, mate! You’re already a hit with the grandparents.”

As you all laughed and celebrated, you felt a warm sense of joy, knowing that these small moments were just the beginning.

Leo was growing up so quickly, and every new word was another step toward the amazing little person he was becoming.

And if there was any doubt that he was Lando’s son, it was quickly erased with that second, clearer “Grandpa.”

—

It was Lando’s home race, and the atmosphere was electric. The streets around the circuit buzzed with excitement as fans poured in to cheer on their favorite driver.

You, Lando, and Leo were all geared up for a day of racing, but there was an undeniable sense of extra energy in the air today.

It was Lando's moment to shine in front of his hometown crowd.

You had decided to bring Leo along for his first true race day experience, and the little one couldn’t contain his excitement.

He had been bouncing around the house all morning, his energy matching the anticipation in the air

“Ready for the madness?” Lando asked, his fingers tapping on the wheel as he drove toward the circuit.

“Is there ever a dull moment at one of your races?” you teased, glancing at Leo, who was already staring out the window, wide-eyed at the massive crowds beginning to form outside.

“Look, Daddy!” Leo exclaimed, his voice full of wonder. “People!”

Lando chuckled, reaching over to ruffle Leo’s hair. “Yeah, buddy, those people are here to watch a race. They love the sport almost as much as we do.”

Lando slowed a little to let Leo get a better look at the fans, many of whom had spotted him by now.

A small wave of recognition rippled through the crowd, and people began holding up signs, taking photos, and cheering even louder.

Lando chuckled, glancing at Leo. “Look at him, he’s already soaking it all in. He’s going to be waving at people the whole time.”

Sure enough, as you drove past the crowds lining the track, Leo pressed his face against the window and started waving enthusiastically at the fans.

“Hi! Hi, people!” he called out, his little arm flailing in the air like he was trying to reach everyone at once.

Lando laughed, shaking his head fondly. “Just like me when I was his age, huh?”

You smiled, watching Leo’s excitement grow as the car neared the grid.

“He’s got your energy, that’s for sure,” you agreed, though Leo’s cheeky smile had hints of you, too.

Leo, still oblivious to the significance of the day, continued to wave back happily, as if the attention was the most natural thing in the world.

The moment was adorable, and it didn’t take long for the whole world to start catching on.

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Curiosity piqued, you pulled it out quickly, only to be greeted with a flood of notifications.

Your heart skipped a beat as you read the messages from friends and family, all the while still hearing Leo’s happy babbling in the back seat.

The trending hashtag was unmistakable: #LeoNorrisOnTheGrid.

It seemed that most fans, spotting Leo, immediately started recording, posting videos of the excited toddler waving at everyone. Within minutes, the clips had gone viral.

On Twitter, hashtags like #LeoNorris and #MiniLando had started trending in minutes.

Fans were going crazy over how much Leo looked like his father, and how adorable he was interacting with the crowd. Some even joked about how Leo was stealing the spotlight from Lando.

"I swear, this kid's got his own fan club already," you said, laughing as you scrolled through the posts and videos that were rapidly gaining likes and retweets.

Lando raised an eyebrow, glancing at the screen before shaking his head, amused. “Well, I’m not surprised. He’s got that Norris charm.”

As you all made your way to the grid, the excitement continued to build. Leo, blissfully unaware of the frenzy he’d caused online, continued to wave at the fans, his little face lit up with pure joy. You leaned over to Lando, whispering, “He’s definitely got your spirit, that’s for sure.”

“Guess he’s a natural,” Lando said with a grin, his tone light but his pride obvious. “But I’m not sure how I feel about all those people already talking about him taking my seat one day.”

You laughed, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Don’t worry, Lando. He’s still got a lot of growing to do before that happens.”

Leo’s excited voice interrupted the moment. “Daddy race now! Go, go, go!” He was bouncing in his seat, eager for his dad to get to the track.

As you made your way toward the grid, Lando leaned in to kiss your forehead.

“Thanks for being here with me today,” he murmured, squeezing your hand. “It means the world to have you both here, especially today.”

With Leo tugging on his hand, eager to explore, you smiled, feeling the love and joy that filled the air.

“We wouldn’t be anywhere else,” you replied, knowing that this day, this moment, was something you’d all treasure forever.

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