idkwhatimdoinghere1655

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

(8) When Things Work - Lando Norris

<word count - 8551> |the full series|

Your final few exams had gone by pretty smoothly, but you weren’t quite out of the woods just yet. You still had to endure further maths, but it was fine with Lando by your side. Of course, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t have your wobbles here and there. 

Sometimes, you walked out of exams and were confident that you had completely failed and not gotten a single mark. But, Lando was right there with a reassuring word and a warm hug to make you see clearly.

“Final one, yes? We have got this,” Lando tried to hype you up, and he was more looking forward to it all being over as opposed to it all being over as opposed to actually doing well at this point. 

It was safe to say that you were all drained, but you had something to look forward to on the horizon: prom. You were so excited for it, but the two of you hadn’t really spoken too much about it. Whenever you did, the two of you just got really blushy and giggly - just what teenagers were like. 

All you had talked about was what time he was picking you up. You didn’t have any conversations about what you were wearing or what was going to happen or even what the two of you were. 

You were going to prom together for God’s sake, but you hadn’t established your relationship status. Were you friends with romantic intent? Were you dating? Were you boyfriend and girlfriend? You often found yourself overthinking things, so you just let it all happen as it was meant to. 

“Course we do. And if you get anything less than a B, then I will accuse you of wasting my time,” you teased, giving him the faux-stern look. Those eyes you gave him certainly… did things to him. But, he was a teenage boy, what more could be expected of him?

“Wasting your time? Me? Never!” he playfully scoffed, clutching at his heart as if it hurt. “I thought every second we spent together meant something!” he cried, pretending to wick away false tears. 

He was right: every second you spent together meant a hell of a lot to both of you, and that wasn’t something that could be ignored. “We’ll see, Norris.” you smiled, placing down your bag and getting out the few things that you’d need. You had your pen, pencil, rubber, ruler, mathematical construction equipment and calculator.

“Don’t panic, you’re a natural. And, after this, it’s all over. We can enjoy prom, and then enjoy summer before results. Remember, if it doesn’t go right, we can flunk school and go travelling.” he reminded you, patting you on the shoulder before heading into the exam hall.

You followed, taking your seat and doing what you did best. To be fair, it didn’t feel too bad. However, that was probably just because you were so looking forward to it being over that you weren’t really focused on checking the answers that you came up with. 

You had a lot of spare time, so you just got to sit there and have a think about the summer. Your parents had been really pushing you to get a job over the summer, so you had put your CV in at a small cafe by your local canal. Thankfully, they had accepted your application and you would be waitressing every Tuesday and Thursday over the holidays. 

It would get you some extra spending money, and would give you something to do with your time. You had 11 weeks off, and you weren’t planning on doing anything. The most you had in the diary was a week long holiday in Spain in August, which you were really looking forward to. 

Lando, on the other hand, was not too keen on the idea of not seeing you for an entire week. You had quickly learned that he was very clingy, but he could surely cope with being without you for a week. Plus, he was going on holiday too, and you weren’t throwing a hissy fit about it. 

In reality, you found it unbelievably cute. That little pout on his face was the sweetest thing that you had ever seen, and it was nice to know that he wanted to spend a lot of time with you during the holidays.

Breaking you out of your thoughts, the invigilators told you that time was up, and that was that. You were done. The most stressful period of your life was over. Well, until you collected your results, but there was no point in dwelling on that now. 

As soon as you left the exam hall, Lando was straight back to being by your side. “So, how was that?” he asked, knowing that you would’ve found it easy as hell. If he had found it pretty bearable, then it must have been a walk in the park for you. 

“Not too bad. To be honest, I was more concentrating on getting it over with.” you told him, leaving the school gates for one final time. Both of you walked down the pavement, letting it sink in that school was over and now you just had to wait for results. 

“Do you want to head to the park?” he asked, and you knew that you’d have loads of time before you could get the bus home. 

“Sure,” you nodded, walking to the park with him. In some ways, having Lando was weird. You weren’t really used to having someone and having them be… completely yours. Lando was there through thick and thin, he was there whenever you needed him with no complaints.

You’d never had someone so reliable to turn to, but now you didn’t know what you would do if you didn’t have him. If he went somewhere that wasn’t the sixth form that you were going to, then you wouldn’t get to see him everyday. You’d probably see him every other weekend and he’d be released upon a whole horde of other girls that would see him as a catch just as much as you did. He had everything, and you knew that he could have whoever he wanted. It was just a matter of if he chose you or not. 

Lando was also scared about the possibility of losing you if you were unleashed upon sixth form boys. There was no doubt that they’d be all over you, since he was sure that more people saw you the way he did than you thought. 

His mum had always told him to do what was better for him, not what everyone around him was doing. But, this was the one time that he was tempted to ignore that advice and just follow you. He could do A-Levels, right? It would be just like GCSEs… except harder. The apprenticeship that he had once wanted to do was now not his number one choice, but he didn’t really mind that. You were worth it.

“You excited for prom?” he asked as the two of you sat down at your normal bench. 

“Is that even a question? Of course I am.” you replied. He loved it when you sassed him. He felt special when you were like this with him, since he had never seen you give such an attitude to anyone else. 

Going to prom together meant that he would have to hold your hand, maybe he’d dance with you. He’d get to properly break the physical barrier. Would it be a better idea to do that now rather than later? Maybe if he got both of you comfortable with touching each other, then prom would be less awkward.

He hoped it wouldn’t be awkward, no matter when it was, but he didn’t want prom to be the time to get used to each other’s touch. He wanted prom to be the time for you to relax and enjoy yourselves, not start finding boundaries. 

“So am I. I was really terrified that you were going to say no,” he confessed, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. He had been contemplating it for a very long time before that, but he was very proud of himself for plucking up the courage to crack on with it. 

“C’mon, I could never say no to you,” you teased, and all he could do was laugh. He was smitten with you, and you could tell. You were smitten with him as well, though, so you were both as bad as each other. 

Lando took the opportunity to tentatively take your hand that was resting in your lap and intertwined his fingers with yours. He had never held anyone’s hand in a romantic capacity, so this was a new phenomenon for the both of you. 

Despite this, it felt so… right. He didn’t know what it was meant to feel like, but to be physically connected to you was more than enough for him. You didn’t hesitate, just let your slightly cold hand be held in his weirdly warm one. You gave it a squeeze as a form of reassurance that this was OK, and that he was allowed to. His hands were rougher than you thought they’d be, but you guessed that was from countless hours in his dads garage working on your projects. 

This felt like a long time coming, and neither of you were wanting to pull away any time soon. You both knew that his mum would be there soon, and you could just hop on any bus once he was gone. She tended to be punctual, but you were hoping she’d be late so that you could hang on to him longer. Now that you had gotten here, you weren’t wanting to let go.

“What colour is your dress?” Lando suddenly asked, and he knew it would be hard to get the information out of you. You had been very secretive about your prom dress, not telling him a single detail about it. It was like how brides were very elusive with their wedding dresses. This wasn’t quite as important as a wedding, but a part of him hoped that you’d get there eventually.

“Lando, you know I won’t tell-“

“I know you don’t want to tell me, but I need to know. Please? It’s for something…” he pleaded, not wanting to prematurely give away the surprise. The look in his eyes told you that it was important, and if he was trying to rile you up, he’d have that classic smirk on his face.

“It’s yellow, OK?” you told him, and the relief on his face was evident. He didn’t think it would be that easy to extract the information from you, but he had gotten through to you. 

Yellow? Now he was not expecting you to be so bold, but it wasn’t like he was complaining. He couldn’t think of anyone else who would wear a yellow prom dress. Most people’s were some variation of blue, purple or green. Yellow was something he hadn’t seen before, and there was no one else who would be able to pull it off like he knew you were. 

Still, Lando couldn’t help but be his classic self and make a jibe. “What, so you’re coming dressed as a banana?” he teased, trying to be serious. But, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face when he said it. 

“Yeah, I am.” you deadpanned. If he didn’t know you as well as you did, then he would have thought you were being serious. It wasn’t like he minded, you’d look gorgeous either way.

From your spot on the bench, he watched as his mum pulled into the car park and saw her take out her phone. She was texting him to tell him she was here, no doubt, and he’d feel bad if he kept her waiting. 

“Mum’s here…” he said, not wanting to let go of your hand. He thought that you’d make the move to break the contact, but you didn’t. You just stayed sitting there, looking at him. 

“I’ll see you on Friday, yeah?” you asked, and he nodded without a second thought. Friday was prom, of course you’d see him Friday. Him and his dad were picking you up at twenty past five to be at the venue for 6pm on the dot. 

In his whole life, he didn’t think that he’d ever looked forward to something more, and he wouldn’t miss it for the world. In his younger years of high school, prom seemed like something stupid and was just going to be something he wouldn’t go to. 

He’d look at the prom photos every year that were put on the display board and thought it was a massive waste of time. All people did were dress up for the sake of dressing up, all for the sake of saying they went to prom. 

He saw pictures of people dancing, couples who were young and allegedly in love. Back then, he didn’t see the point. Now, he did. He was one of the few lucky ones who actually had a date to go to prom with. 

In all of the American high school movies, nearly everyone had a date, even if they were just friends. In Britain, not many people had dates for prom. But Lando did. Lando had you. Most of his friends didn’t have a date, but he had the best person that he could by his side.

“Come on, I’m sure mum will want to say hello,” he smiled, pulling you up and walking towards the car with your hand in his. He saw his mum watching you through the windows, smiling to herself as she saw her son finally holding the hand of the girl he liked. 

She rolled down the window. “Hi, sweethearts. How did your exam go?” she asked. You almost forgot about the further maths exam since you were too focused on Lando. 

“It wasn’t too bad,” Lando said, and you nodded along in agreement. 

“How are you getting home, Y/N?” she asked as Lando threw his bag in the back seat and hopped in the front. 

“I’m getting the bus, it shouldn’t be-”

“No you’re not.” Lando interrupted, getting out of the car just as quickly as he had gotten in it. Lando went to sit in the back, leaving the front passenger side door open. “We can take you,” he told you, gesturing to the now vacated front seat.

“Are you sure?” you asked, not wanting them to have to go out of their way to take you home. 

“Of course, hop in,” his mum said, and you were happy to oblige. Now, you didn’t have to pay for the bus, wait for it, or endure the longer than necessary drive home. She pulled out of the car park, starting the drive home. 

You had your arm resting on the armrest on the door when you felt something tapping your elbow. Looking down to your left, you just saw Lando’s hand splayed out. He saw you look at it, but you clearly weren’t understanding what he was wanting you to do. 

Lando started doing what could only be described as grabby hands, so you took your arm off of the armrest and moved so that you could hold his hand. Lando physically relaxed at the feeling of your hand in his. It brought him a strange sense of peace, knowing that you were there and that you were with him. 

Small talk filled the car on the way home, and Lando squeezed your hand every now and then to remind himself that you were there. No amount of time would ever be enough, but he was desperate for more when his mum pulled up outside of your house. “Thank you for that,” you smiled, letting go of his hand to open the car door.

“Any time, sweetheart.” she said, and Lando was also getting out of the car. What sort of kind-of-boyfriend would he be if he didn’t walk his girl to her front door? Plus, it was a great excuse to hold your hand again. 

He did just that the second that he was back by your side, walking you all the way to your doorstep and only letting go once you had to enter the house. “25 past 5, yeah? Not a second later,” Lando reminded you.

He knew that you wouldn’t forget and that you’d be ready for when he got there, but he felt the need to tell you regardless. “C’mon, you know me better than that,” you chuckled, nudging him with your elbow. “See you then,” you smiled, closing the door. 

Lando heard the lock click into place, and he knew you were safe and sound inside. He turned away from the door and got back in the car. “Since when were you two an official item?” she asked, starting off the final leg of their journey home. 

“We’re not official. Yet.” Lando sighed, wanting to be able to properly call you his girlfriend sooner rather than later. His plan was to do it at prom, but he didn’t want to bombard you with too much all at once. 

Regardless of this, if you had agreed to go to prom with him as his date, then surely you’d agree to be his girlfriend if he asked, right? He knew you would, so he just had to bide his time and wait for the right moment. 

For now, he had to focus on making sure that everything was perfect for the two of you. This was going to be the biggest night of your lives, and he would not let anything go wrong on his watch. No way. 

The days ticked by slowly, and it was finally the day of prom. All Lando really had to do was get his suit on and do his hair, but he took extra time and effort to look his best. His dad folded him a yellow pocket square, which he hoped was the same shade as your dress, and tucked it in his breast pocket along with the flower that his mum had given him.

Lando had never worn a proper suit before, but that wasn’t to say that he didn’t like the look of it on him. His mum had forced him to get it tailored so that he didn’t show up looking like a drowned rat, which she was sure some of the boys would do. 

Walking down the stairs, the entire family was waiting for him. “Oh my goodness… you look so handsome, sweetheart,” his mum gushed, trying not to cry at the sight of her boy all grown up. 

He was taking a girl to prom, and he looked like a dashing young man while he was doing it. “Come on,” his dad said, opening the front door as everyone tried to snap a few more pictures of Lando. 

“Don’t forget the camera, darling. I need pictures of the two of them. And make sure they’re good,” she instructed his dad, handing him the camera. She needed good photos of her son. 

“Yes, I know,” he rolled his eyes, watching as Lando went and got into the front seat of the McLaren that he had borrowed from one of his friends. Was it a bit bougie for prom? Yes. Yes it was. But, Lando wanted to be driven in it, so there was no harm done. 

“Are you nervous?” he asked, getting into the driver's side and starting up the car. 

“Yeah. I am.” Lando admitted, not knowing specifically why he was nervous, but he was nervous nonetheless. Lando fiddled with his cufflinks for the whole drive, and his dad found his nervousness to be quite comical. 

“Don’t be, you’ll have such a good time.” He remembered what it was like to be young and in love, and he knew that Lando had a lot to learn. Despite this, he was happy for his son. He may have never met you, but he liked the sound of you from what he had heard from Lando and his mum. 

Lando’s heart was beating out of his chest as they pulled up outside your house. Instead of making himself wait while he was on the edge of his seat, he was straight out of the car and to your front door. It dawned on him that he was probably about to meet your parents for the first ever time. 

He always found it odd how they were never there, and you never really mentioned them that much. You had spoken about your grandmother briefly, but never your parents. He had been to the house a few times and there was never any sign of them. No cars in the driveway, no one wandering around in the background, no one to take care of you when you were sick. 

That wasn’t something he was going to dwell on tonight, though. Tonight was just about you and him, no one else. With a shaking hand, Lando knocked on your front door as he waited for you. As it opened, his jaw went slack and words completely escaped him. 

“You… erm… jesus… wow…” he stuttered, as the words to describe how stunning you looked completely eluded him. You were always pretty, but getting to see you all dolled up absolutely took his breath away.

You never wore makeup, but now that you had on a soft glam look, it really made your features pop. You had your hair in a half up, half down style and it gave him a full, unobstructed view of your face while also allowing your hair to cascade down your back in soft waves. 

And the dress. The goddamn dress. He wasn’t sure what to expect when you said that it was yellow, but he was not disappointed in the slightest. The only way he could describe it was that you looked like a princess. 

The top was fitted with a sweetheart neckline and no straps that cinched in at the waist. In school uniform, he was never really able to see your figure, but now he was finally getting a taste. There were glittery, embroidered flowers that looked like lace as he looked at it from the distance that he was. 

The skirt was a glittery tuul that pooled around your legs and stopped just shy of the floor, almost giving the illusion that you were floating. The whole thing was quite sparkly, to be fair, and the sight was purely mesmerizing. “You look absolutely gorgeous,” he managed to get out, unable to take his eyes off of you and the dress. 

The heat flushed your cheeks at his compliment, since you weren’t used to getting them very often. Lando would change that in due time. “Thank you. You look so handsome,” you returned.

A man always looked good in a suit, and Lando was no exception. It just accentuated every single one of his best physical features, and the yellow pocket square with the flower was a really nice touch that didn’t go unnoticed. It was, thankfully, the same shade. 

Even if you weren’t together at all times, everyone at prom was going to know that you were each other’s dates. He was certain that no one else would be walking around in a yellow dress like you were, so the distinction would be easy to make. 

Lando was only ever called handsome by his family or the girls at school who were just gagging for any scrap of attention that they could get, so it was great to hear it from someone else. Especially when that someone was you. 

“Thank you,” he smiled, holding an arm out for you to take. “Oh! I have something for you,” he suddenly remembered, fishing around his inside pocket. He handed you a box which you wasted no time in opening. 

“Lando…” you breathed, looking at what he had given you. Sitting inside the box was a corsage that matched the flower in his pocket. “Can you put it on?” 

“Course I can,” he nodded, carefully taking the delicate flower out of the box and tying it around your left wrist. Now, the two of you were properly matching just like a couple should. It wasn’t a typical thing to do, but he just couldn’t help himself. “There,” he smiled once it was perfectly in place. 

“Thank you, Lando.” you said, looking between him and the corsage. You saw his dad hovering by the car with the camera in hand, and you were ready for photos. “C’mere,” you said, pulling him into your side on the doorstep. You had an arm around his back and his arm found a comfortable place around your waist, his hand resting on your hip. 

The pair of you smiled for a few minutes, moving around your driveway so that you could get some photos with better lighting. Lando’s dad showed you them before you set off so that the two of you were happy with them. There was one in particular that the two of you adored. 

You had just moved to a spot where the sun was directly behind the two of you, but you weren’t quite ready for the picture. Lando had just put his arm around you, and you were smiling at each other before you turned to the camera. It had flashed while you were gazing into each other’s eyes, and it was such a good candid shot. 

After your pictures, it was time for you to get going. Lando, being the gentleman that he was, opened the car door for you before rounding the back and getting in himself. Despite the 20 minute journey, it felt like five as you pulled up outside of prom where a lot of people were already waiting. 

“Come on, let’s do this.” Lando encouraged, getting out of the car and opening the door for you. The photographers that the school had hired snapped endless pictures of you as Lando took your hand to help you out of the car.

Not many people knew that Lando was bringing you, so the shocked looks on everyone's faces were priceless. As far as they were concerned, the rumours that you two were dating had been proved as not true. Well, they were at the time. But, things change. 

While you were walking to where everyone was waiting, Lando looked over all of the other girls. Not a single one in yellow. Not a single one as beautiful as you. None of them could even hold a candle to you, no matter how hard they tried.

Some of them looked ridiculous with far too much fake tan and eyelashes so thick that they looked like bats whenever they blinked. You were tasteful, classy, and elegant. They weren’t. But, he was biased.  

“Well would you look at who finally grew a pair of balls!” a voice called out to the two of you. Well, there was no points for guessing who it was. Max and the rest of Lando’s friends emerged from the crowd, all of them looking very dapper if you were being fair. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” you chuckled, letting go of his hand and leaving him to the wolves. You weaved through the crowd, looking for your friends.

“So, what base are we at?” Max asked once you were out of earshot. Lando just tutted and shook his head. He shouldn’t have been surprised that he had asked, but he still wasn’t the most impressed. 

“We’re taking things slow, we’re both new at this,” was all Lando said, not wanting them to quiz him any further. “Now, enough about me. What have you shitheads been up to?” he asked, and they all instantly set off rambling about what they had been doing over the week off. 

Meanwhile, you were struggling to find your friends in the crowd. You knew they’d be there somewhere, it was just a matter of figuring out which ones they were. Just as you had spotted them, you felt a hand on your arm. “Hey,” a voice said, and you turned to find that it was Lilly. 

As much as you had hated her, you couldn’t deny that she looked absolutely beautiful. She hadn’t gone over the top on the makeup like you would have assumed that she would, she hadn’t even gone too far on the tan either.

Her dress was a light blue satin thar hugged her body all the way until her knees when it loosened off. It wouldn’t have been your choice, but she had the figure to pull it off. Her hair was up, which was something you weren’t used to seeing since she usually had it down, but it really suited her. You thought she should wear it up more often. 

“I just wanted to say that you look absolutely beautiful. That dress is… something else,” she smiled, and you could tell that she was being genuine. You appreciated how she was making an effort to be nice, even if it was hard to forget how much she had made your life a living hell. 

“Thank you so much, so do you. You really suit your hair up,” you complimented back, seeing a glimpse of gratitude in her eyes. You were always sure that Lilly was very self-conscious and that was a massive part of why she was so awful to everyone. She wanted to put other people down to make herself feel better. 

It was becoming apparent that all she really needed was for someone to just be nice to her. Now that the two of you were building a rapport, she was becoming a lot more bearable. “Really? I was never really a fan until my mum told me I should just go for it,” she chuckled, and you were finally seeing slithers of the real Lilly through the cracks of the confident facade. 

“Your mum was certainly right,” you said.

“I was… I was just wondering if you’d maybe be able to save a dance for me later? I don’t know, it might be fun.” she rambled. 

“Yeah, sure. Come find me, yeah?” you agreed, appreciating the effort that she was putting in. She nodded, glad that you had said yes. You went off to find your friends and you chatted for a bit before you were allowed to go into the venue for your dinner before prom really commenced. 

As you were walking with your friends, you felt a hand in yours and you turned to see Lando. “I cannot believe that you left me there,” he scoffed, glad to be back with you. It probably wasn’t great that he was prioritising his near-girlfriend over his lifelong friends, but he needed you right now. 

“You really think I wanted to deal with Max?”

“You really think I wanted to deal with Max either?” he countered, and he did have you there to be fair. “He asks the worst questions, I swear. Painfully intrusive,” he told you, and you didn’t even want to know what Max had been asking. 

As you walked into the prom venue, you took in the surroundings. There were twinkling fairy lights everywhere, the colour scheme being white and silver overall. It looked like something straight out of one of your pinterest boards, and you were just gobsmacked at how nice they had made it.

“It’s so pretty,” you whispered, the lights reflecting in your eyes as Lando looked down at you. 

“You’re the pretty one,” he said. Sure, it was really cheesy, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. You all found your nameplates in front of your seats, and unfortunately, you and Lando weren’t sat together.

He was on a table with all of his friends, and you were on a table with all of yours, which made sense. One thing that didn’t make sense was that Lilly was put next to you and she wasn’t sitting with Maisie. 

It was like she had read your mind as she appeared beside you. “I… Maisie and I aren’t really talking so I asked if I could sit with you… it’s OK if you don’t want to, I totally get it, I can ask to move somewhere else if you want me to, it isn’t a-” 

“Lilly, it’s fine. I don’t mind.” you cut her off, and the relief on her face was palpable. Lando looked between the two of you, unsure of when you had reconciled your major differences and had become sort of friendly. 

“Well, I’ve got to get going.” he smiled, seeing that everyone was taking their seats and he had to get to his table for dinner. Lando pulled your chair out for you, sat down and pushed you under the table. 

Lilly just stood and watched with a sad sort of envy in her eyes. It wasn’t the bitter sort of jealousy that she was used to, just a resigned feeling that settled heavy in her chest. Lando saw this and decided to be the bigger person. 

He stood to the side, pulling Lilly’s chair out for her and gesturing for her to sit. She sat down, and Lando pushed her under the table just like he had done for you. You were proud of him for being so mature and reading the situation. As he walked past you to go to his table, he leant down and pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head as a goodbye, just like he had done when you were sick. 

The girls on your table all blushed and giggled, whispering things to each other.

“I’m happy for you, you know. I’ll admit, it’s hard to watch, but you deserve it,” Lilly said, and the honesty was refreshing. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have it the other way around. You don’t know what you would have done if you had to see Lando be with Lilly while you just had to wait to the side with a reluctant smile and forced congratulations. 

“Thank you. You will find someone who makes you happy, Lilly. That’s a promise,” you said, squeezing her hand that was resting on the table. Your starters were brought out, and you and Lilly talked for the entirety of your meal. 

You learnt a lot about her. You found out that she really enjoyed watching football and you could talk about it a bit with her since you knew little pieces about what was going on in the current climate from Lando. She corrected you on some things that you got wrong, but she understood that it wasn’t your specialist subject.

You also found out that the whole reason that her and Maisie had become friends was through music and that she was an avid piano player. She enjoyed listening, playing and writing her own classical music, which was something that you had never expected from her. Lilly promised to let you listen to some of her pieces sometimes. 

The meal flew by in a flash, and you were shocked by how funny and bubbly the real Lilly was. The two of you got on like a house on fire, and you had wished that she had been like this from the start. You were sure that you would have been really good friends by now.

From his spot on a table across the venue, Lando was watching the interactions between you and Lilly. Every time he looked over, both of you were laughing and smiling like you had been best friends for years. 

Despite the grudges that both you and him held, he could see that you were softening and slowly letting things go as time went on. Once you were all finished, everyone got up and the music started. “I’ll come find you later,” Lilly smiled, disappearing into the crowd as she saw Lando coming to stand behind you.

“You two seem to be awfully friendly,” he greeted, moving so that he was standing in front of you. 

“She’s actually really nice when she’s not being a total bitch,” you smiled, taking his hand and dragging him to the dancefloor. Did Lando know how to dance? No. Was he going to try? If he had to. For you. 

As he tried to do something that resembled dancing with his limbs to 2010s classics, he could see his friends laughing at him out of the corner of his eye. “Hey, ignore them. They’re boring,” you said, turning him so that his back was to them and the two of you could just enjoy each other. 

To give everyone a second to recoup their energy, the song changed to a slower one. The few couples that were there got into position, so you and Lando followed suit. Neither of you had a clue what you were doing, so you just copied them. 

You linked your arms around Lando’s neck and he placed both of his hands on your waist. Even if you had never done it, it felt natural to both of you. You swayed to the music, enjoying how romantic the moment was. 

“Sometimes I really wondered how I got so lucky,” he mumbled, so quietly that you could only just about hear him.

“C’mon, I’m the lucky one,” you said, and all he could do was shake his head and smile as he gazed into your eyes. God, he wanted to kiss you right now. He would have if there wasn’t everyone from your year there. 

He didn’t want a moment so special to be observed by your peers. He wanted it to be something for your eyes only, something that only the two of you would ever be able to recollect in precise detail. 

You knew what he was thinking, and you wanted the same. Kissing him right now would be one of the best moments of your life, and you didn’t want it to be ruined by people having reactions and making comments. 

You had come far too far and gone through far too much to let it go to waste by having your first ever kiss spoiled. You’d just have to enjoy being close to him, for now. Lando couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you swayed to the music together.

The romantic moment was short lived as people filtered back on the dancefloor as the upbeat songs started blaring out through the speakers again. You spotted Lilly standing to the side, clearly unsure of what to do. 

She kept looking between you and Lando and the rest of your peers on the dance floor. “Go to your friends, OK? I promised her a dance,” you told him, and he looked over to see Lilly looking utterly lost. 

“Sure, have fun,” he smiled, leaning down to kiss your cheek and went off to find his friends. Lando had become really comfortable with giving you those innocent kisses, and it was something you were happy to get used to. 

You went over to Lilly and grabbed her hand, pulling her over to the floor. A huge smile broke out onto her face as she relaxed into the contact, clearly glad that you had remembered that you’d said that you’d dance with her.

You bopped away, singing along to some of your favourite classic tunes and spinning each other around. Lando was standing with his friends, but he was paying more attention to you and Lilly than he was to them.

The two of you looked like you were having a blast as you laughed and messed around together, and he would have never thought that this would be how prom was going to go. If he didn’t know any better, he would have said that you had been best friends for a damn long time. 

After a while of dancing, you decided to take a breather and head out of the double doors to the deck. You were surprised when you didn’t see anyone else out there, but the silence was welcomed. There was a slightly cool breeze in the air, cooling you down perfectly.   

The second that Lando had seen you leave the venue, he followed you like a flash. He didn’t even explain where he was going, he just followed you straight out. He quietly opened the doors and slipped out, seeing you leaning against the railing. 

“Hey,” he said to alert you to his presence. You turned to look at him and a huge smile broke out onto your face. 

“Hey,” you greeted back, letting him stand next to you and tug you into his side with an arm around your waist. “You having a good night?” you asked, leaning into him. 

“I sure am. Although, you and Lilly being friends was not on my bingo card for tonight,” he laughed. You agreed. Being Lilly’s friend and actually getting on with her despite everything that had happened was not something that you expected to happen this week, but it wasn’t something you were overly complaining about. 

“Wasn’t on mine either. But she’s actually really sweet. I think she was just so awful because she’s got a lot of insecurities so she pins them on everyone around her,” you said, and Lando found it remarkable how empathetic you could be. She had made your life a living hell, she had nearly ruined the relationship between the two of you because she was so fixated on being with Lando. Even after all of that, you still saw past it and saw who was really behind the mask. 

“I’m proud of you, you know that?” he sincerely said, squeezing your waist. You were only 16 but had a very mature head on your shoulders, and it only made him fall for you more. “I couldn’t be that forgiving,” he chuckled, kissing your temple before letting things fall silent. 

The two of you didn’t have to talk just for you to enjoy your time together. It was nice to be there in silence and relish each other’s company. Things used to be so complicated when your relationship started off, and now it had transitioned to something so natural and simple. 

Lando Norris, the boy who you would have avoided at all costs was now the boy that you wanted to be around 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. It was strange to think of the butterfly effect that had gotten you to where you were today. 

If someone had sat in the seat next to him, if the bus had never broken down, if his mum had never offered to take you to school, if you hadn’t walked into maths wearing his jumper, if Max hadn’t decided to take the piss, if Lando hadn’t made the bet, if you had never followed through. If any of those steps hadn’t happened, then the two of you probably wouldn’t have been standing there together. 

“Can I ask you something?” you asked, a question suddenly popping into your head. It was something you had wondered ever since Lando had asked you to prom, but never one you had the courage to ask.

“Course you can,” Lando said, looking down at you as if he were trying to guess the question before you had the chance to ask it.

“When did you first start liking me? Like… more than friends.” you clarified, watching the blush creep up on his cheeks. Lando knew exactly when he first started liking you, but it felt slightly embarrassing to admit how quickly he had fallen for you.

“Well… I think I started liking you when we started our library visits because of the deal we had, and then I really started liking you a lot when we were put together in maths. And even through everything that happened between us, no matter how many times we fell out, those feelings never went away. I guess that’s how I knew that what I felt was the real deal,” he honestly explained, internally cringing at the slight cheesiness but it was the complete truth.

“That feels like forever ago…” you whispered, thinking through all of your fondest memories with him. Wearing his jumpers, him going over to yours when you were sick, revising together, him calming you down when you got in your head.

You could talk about anything, laugh over the dumbest things, enjoy every second you spent together like it was your last. It was all the things put together that made what the pair of you had so special. 

“When did you start liking me? Like… more than friends?” he mimicked, lightly tickling your ribs, causing you to squeal and try to wriggle away from him. Just before you could claw your way out of his grasp, he stopped and pulled you snugly into his side again. “Seriously, though. I want to know.” he said, leaning in to kiss your temple again while you thought of your answer. 

“I don’t really know… I liked you when I got to know the Lando that wasn’t the twat with his friends. And I think losing you the first time really made me realise how much I like you and how much I couldn’t stand not having you around.” you said, and Lando was surprised at how honest you were being.

He was glad that there was enough trust in your relationship so that the two of you could tell each other anything without the fear of being teased with malice or laughed out simply for expressing how you felt. 

“You’re not losing me for a long damn time,” Lando whispered, looking down into your eyes. He closed the gap so that your foreheads were resting against each other as neither of you dared to make the move. 

You both wanted to, oh so desperately you wanted to. The moment was perfect. It was just the two of you on one of the happiest nights of your lives, under a perfectly clear starry sky. You could feel each other’s breath warm on your faces. Lando’s eyes flicked down to your lips, and back to your eyes. “Can I…?” he asked, not wanting to go for it if you didn’t feel like you were ready. 

“Yes.” you quickly breathed out, and Lando wasted no time in closing the gap and pressing his lips to yours. Neither of you knew how to kiss, so you just let your intuitions guide you. Just like in the movies, you wrapped your arms around his neck while his hands found a place on either side of your waist. 

Your lips felt addictively soft against his, and he could feel some of your lipgloss transferring onto him. You both closed your eyes and focused on the feeling of finally getting to kiss each other. They slowly moved against each other, both of you slowly getting the hang of what you thought you were meant to be doing. 

As you were running out of breath, you pulled away and just looked at him. “You have no idea how long I have been wanting to do that.” Lando said, feeling slightly drunk after having your lips on his. 

“Me too,” you agreed, grinning from ear to ear. You caught your breath for a minute, constantly replaying the memory of the kiss on repeat. From inside, you heard one of your favourite songs come on, and there was no way you were missing it. Lando heard it too, knowing that you’d want to go. “C’mon,” you smiled, taking his hand and tugging him along. 

“Hey, woah, wait.” Lando said, pulling your hand back so that you couldn’t walk back into the venue. 

“What?” you asked, and he never answered. All Lando did was pull you in for another quick kiss. Now that he had had you once, he wanted to get his fill over and over again. It was short, but he still poured every ounce of affection that he had in his body into it. 

“Just wanted to do that again.” he chuckled, and you didn’t have an answer. This was the next step to your relationship that you were very happy to be exploring. He finally loosened his grip on you and let you pull him back into the venue and onto the dancefloor. Lando just let you dance your little heart out to your favourite song without trying to interfere. 

When you walked back through the doors, Max spotted you. He saw the blush on your cheeks and the satisfied look in Lando’s eyes and his brain went to all sorts of conclusions. “Damn, Lando. Didn’t think you’d hold that promise, congrats.” he smirked as he walked over to the two of you on the dancefloor.

“Huh? What promise?” you asked, looking between Lando and Max. You were confused, and there was a pit of dread forming in your stomach. Lando was also confused - he couldn’t think of anything that he had promised Max in recent years, let alone recent weeks. 

“Remember? What you said after your little chat with Miss Kenneday?” he said, and Lando knew exactly what he was talking about. 

“Max, I swear to god if you start running your mouth… it was a joke.” Lando warned through gritted teeth. “I said that-” he started, wanting to say it to you before Max did so that he could give you the proper context. 

“You said that, with the way things were going between the two of you, you’d get laid before I would and that it was a promise. And I see that you fulfilled your promise, so well done, mate.” Max said with a smugest smirk on his face. 

All Lando could see was red. Your night had been so perfect, and now Max was tarnishing the memories with some stupid, passing joke that he had made. You didn’t say anything, just pushing through the crowd and disappearing. “Max, what the fuck? Why do you always have to ruin things with her? Why do you always have to fuck this up for me?” Lando ranted, wanting nothing more than to punch him so hard in the face that it would knock him out.

Some people looked towards him, wanting to know what his raised voice was for. “Man, I was just jok-” 

“No! Shut the fuck up, I’m not done talking. Your jokes aren’t funny. All they do is upset people, and for some reason, it’s always me and her ending up upset. I thought you were one of my best friends but all you do is keep fucking shit up for me and I have had it. While we’ve all matured, you’ve stayed as juvenile as we all were when we started highschool.” he spat, pushing through the crowd and trying to go in the direction that he thought you had gone in. 

He couldn’t let the happiest night of his life end like this, no way. He wasn’t letting his girl be upset because of some stupid joke. He hoped that you’d listen to him, that you’d understand his point of view, because if he lost you this time, he was terrified that it would be the final time. 

A/N - And here it is! The next chapter of Nerd. I hope that you enjoy this part as much as I do, and I have already started the next chapter, so you should see a date coming for that on the series list in the not so distant future. Love y'all 💖

tag list: @l4andopitlane @clovermoters

|masterlist|the full series|

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Well that was one of the best things I think I have ever read in my entire life

Wrong Groupchat - OP81 🔥- part 2

Masterlist || Part 1

summary: oscar and reader are forced to attend a post-race paddock dinner after that video leaks. the team principals pretend nothing happened. the drivers? they do not. warning: sex tape fallout, secondhand embarrassment, chaotic grid energy, joking references to choking/filming, swearing, implied smut references, reader being an unbothered menace

You shouldn’t have worn red. You knew you shouldn’t have worn red. It was petty. Provocative. A little cruel, even. But that was the whole point.

Red, with strappy heels and that lipstick Oscar likes. The kind that stains your mouth the exact same way it did in thatvideo. The one that accidentally made its way into the Formula 1 drivers’ group chat via Oscar’s butterfingered AirDrop click. The one now immortalised in private Discord servers, Reddit threads, anonymous Twitter dumps and Charles Leclerc’s goddamn memory palace.

And now here you were, gliding through the lobby of a five-star hotel like you hadn’t been choked within an inch of your life on a headboard in glorious 4K.

Oscar, to his credit, looked like he might vomit. “You wore the lipstick,” he muttered, somewhere between awe and horror.

You smiled sweetly, threading your arm through his as you approached the private dining suite. “I also brought blush. For when you inevitably die of embarrassment and I need a respectful glow for my solo interviews.”

He groaned. “They’re going to make eye contact.”

“They saw my soul leave my body, sweetheart. Eye contact’s the least of your problems.”

He didn’t laugh. Not even a smile. Just a quiet little gulp as the maître d’ opened the door with a too-wide grin and announced your arrival to a room so tense it may as well have been rigged with explosives.

The team principals were already seated. Toto Wolff. Zak Brown. Fred Vasseur. Christian Horner. Andrea Stella. James Vowles. Flavio fucking Briatore. Each one of them holding a wine glass like it was the only thing separating them from absolute breakdown.

No one spoke. No one moved. The silence was biblical.

“Good evening,” you said sweetly, brushing your hand over Oscar’s shoulder as he led you to the far end of the table. “Sorry we’re late. Long… afternoon.”

Charles choked on his wine.

Fred’s glass slipped slightly. “It’s fine,” he said too quickly. “We just… started.”

Andrea Stella’s eyes flicked to Oscar. Then to you. Then back to Oscar with the weary expression of a man who now had to look his driver in the eye knowing he liked to say things like ‘you’re just my filthy little hole.’

You sat. Crossed your legs. Smiled like a virgin. Oscar sat beside you, visibly sweating through his shirt. His curls were freshly styled. You knew because you’d fixed them with your fingers twenty minutes ago after riding him in a fit of panic. (What if they’re mad? What if Zak says something? “Then bend me over the sink and remind me who the fuck I belong to.”)

Your lipstick hadn’t budged.

To your left sat Lando, chewing on the inside of his cheek like he was biting back a full dissertation.

To your right, Lewis Hamilton, the only man in the room holding it together with even a semblance of grace.

“Lovely weather,” Lewis offered, ever the diplomat. “Cool breeze rolling in.”

You smiled politely. “Very crisp.”

Across the table, Pierre Gasly whispered something to Yuki. Yuki immediately covered his mouth and snorted so loudly it made Andrea Stella flinch.

Oscar grabbed his water glass and gulped half of it in one go.

George Russell, seated next to Charles, cleared his throat. “The lighting was excellent, by the way. Really… flattering angles.”

Oscar choked so violently on his water that Toto Wolff half-rose from his chair in alarm.

Lando, helpfully, added, “I’ve seen worse porn. I mean, like. Not better. Just. You know.”

Zak Brown dropped his fork.

Charles nodded gravely. “It was… artistic.”

“Very sensual,” Carlos Sainz chimed in. “Yet aggressive. Cinematic.”

You turned your head slowly. “Did you just call my boyfriend’s cock cinematic?”

Carlos grinned. “Would you prefer theatrical?”

Oscar dropped his head into his hands.

Toto spoke up, steely and unreadable. “We are not having this conversation.”

Christian Horner, meanwhile, looked like he wanted to explode. “Can we just acknowledge how horrifying it was to receive unsolicited Oscar dick during sponsor meetings?! I was in a Zoom with Red Bull and suddenly it was just wham- full throttle hand kink.”

Max finally piped up. “No lie, I watched it three times.”

George nodded solemnly. “I was with Carmen. She’s traumatised.”

“Lily thought it was hot,” Alex muttered darkly.

“She texted me,” Oscar whispered.

The table collectively shrieked.

“Okay but real question,” Pierre leaned forward. “Was that the only take? Or did you have, like… a rehearsal round?”

You sipped your wine. “There’s a director’s cut.”

Oscar whimpered.

Yuki banged the table. “I KNEW IT.”

“I have never,” Zak Brown said firmly, “been more afraid of a group of drivers than I am right now.”

Lando leaned over you to whisper to Oscar, “You moaned louder than she did.”

“She bit his shoulder,” Charles said, visibly traumatised. “I saw teeth.”

George had tears in his eyes. “And the whole time I thought he was boring. I thought he was one of us.”

Lewis finally spoke again, eyebrows raised. “Oscar, if you ever wanna direct a short film…”

Oscar turned to you with wide eyes and whispered, “I’m moving to Antarctica.”

You leaned in, hand on his thigh. “You’re trending, babe.”

“I’m dying.”

“They’re all jealous.”

“They saw my cum face.”

You grinned. “They rated your cum face.”

Andrea Stella clinked his glass. “So, about the upcoming media schedules-”

“DO NOT BRING UP THE WORD MEDIA,” Christian roared.

Across the room, Charles was sketching camera angles on a napkin. Max had opened a betting pool on how long you’d last before dropping another tape. Carlos offered to film it. Lance suggested better lighting. Kimi Antonelli asked how he could “learn that technique.” Oscar looked ready to combust.

And you? You kissed his cheek and whispered, “Smile for the cameras, pretty boy. You’re the new face of Formula 1’s sex appeal.”

He groaned into your shoulder.

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

I say nothing. Only reblog.

Request: charles accidentally sending reader a steamy picture (maybe he took it just because or it was meant for someone else, but reader receives it), he gets left on seen for a few and thinks he just embarrassed himself, but then she sends him back a tits pic and gets invited over to fuck

the right girl - CL16 🔥

Masterlist

Summary: it was meant to stay in his drafts. or maybe it was meant for someone else. or maybe he didn’t mean to send it at all. but at 11:47PM, you get a picture from charles leclerc — abs, cock print, that smirk, no caption. just heat. just intention. just pure chaos. you don’t respond. not right away. you leave him on read. long enough for him to spiral. long enough for him to regret everything. 

Warnings: explicit sexting, accidental thirst trap, reader leaves him on read for power, nudes exchanged, fast escalation, dom-ish charles, slightly unhinged boy behavior, consensual sexual tension, mutual teasing, explicit smut

It’s almost midnight when your phone lights up.

CHARLES LECLECR ✴️ 📷[photo]

No text. No context. Just the image. You blink. Tap it. And nearly drop your phone.

It’s blurry at the edge, like it was taken one-handed and in a rush. But there’s no mistaking what it is. Charles. Shirt off. Sweatpants low. Abs flexed. V-line sharp enough to cause a car crash. And the outline of his cock - thick, hard, pressing against the grey cotton like it wants to be known.

You stare. You blink again. You do not respond. Because the power of silence is a beautiful thing.

Charles sees the read receipt at 11:48PM. And then nothing. No reaction. No response. No emoji. No retaliation. Just seen.

He stares at his screen like it’s betrayed him. His heart starts racing. Not the sexy kind of racing- panic racing.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, sitting bolt upright in bed. “Did I actually just-”

He scrambles to open your name. Stares at the image. Stares at the timestamp. Prays it was a hallucination. Realises it’s not.

“Oh my god,” he says out loud. “Oh my fucking god.”

He doesn’t know if it was meant for you. Maybe. Possibly. Probably not. He’d taken it because he looked hot after training and was feeling cocky. It wasn’t supposed to go anywhere. And yet, somewhere between editing the shadows and checking the crop, his thumb must’ve hit send. To you.

Of all people. You. You, who flirt with him at every race. You, who make his voice crack in the McLaren hospitality every time you bend over in that stupid tiny skirt. You, who’ve never fucked him, never kissed him, never even touched him, but have him obsessed anyway.

And now you’ve seen his cock print. And said nothing.

He lies back on the bed. Stares at the ceiling. Contemplates switching off his phone for the rest of the year. And then it buzzes.

12:04AM.

📷[photo]

from you.

He opens it. And chokes. It’s your tits. Bare. Full. Beautiful. Taken in your mirror with the flash on. No bra. No shirt. Just skin and heat and nipples hard and glowing. There’s no caption. Just like his.

And suddenly everything is forgiven. Three seconds later:

CHARLES: come over. now. door’s unlocked.

And just beneath it, as if to prove he’s already hard again:

📷[photo] this time, no sweatpants. Just his cock. Waiting.

You don’t knock. You just turn the handle, step inside, and let the door swing shut behind you. You’re in a hoodie. That’s it. Oversized, soft, grey. No panties underneath. No bra. You didn’t even bother with shoes. You didn’t need to. Not when Charles Leclerc’s cock was already hard in the photo he sent you twenty minutes ago. Not when his messages said come now and door’s unlocked like he couldn’t wait another second.

You hear him before you see him. Pacing. Muttering something low under his breath. Your heart kicks up. You step quietly through the hall, up the stairs, until you reach the edge of the landing.

Then he sees you. And everything stops. He’s standing shirtless at the top of the stairs, trackies slung low, no boxers, cock hard and leaking against his stomach. His chest is flushed. His jaw is clenched. His eyes are starving.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

You tilt your head. “Hi.”

His eyes drop to the hem of your hoodie. Bare thighs. Nothing underneath. He steps forward. You don’t move. He closes the space like gravity. “You wore nothing,” he says, voice breaking.

“I didn’t see the point.”

He groans. Then he grabs you by the waist. Pulls you flush against him, kisses you like he’s starving, teeth, tongue, everything. His hands drag down your back, grip your thighs, squeeze like he needs proof you’re real. You whimper into his mouth and feel his cock press hard between your legs. “Turn around,” he pants. “I need to see.”

You do. Lift the back of the hoodie. Expose the curve of your ass. He stares like you just handed him a fucking miracle.

“No fucking panties,” he whispers. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Then he sinks to his knees behind you. Spreads you open with both hands. Presses his mouth to your cunt and devours. You cry out. Grip the wall. Barely stand. His tongue is filthy. Fast. Perfect. He moans into your pussy like it’s his favourite meal. And when you buck your hips too hard, he pulls away just long enough to flip you around and kiss you again, messy, wet, obscene.

Then he stands. “Get on your knees.”

You drop immediately. He pulls his cock out, grips the base, strokes once. “Open.”

You do. He slides into your mouth with a hiss. “Fuck, yes,” he groans. “Just like that, baby.”

You suck. Slow at first. Tongue soft. Then deeper, wetter. His hand slides into your hair. Not rough. not yet, just steady. Guiding. “You know what that photo did to me?” he pants. “Had me jerking off with my hand down my fucking pants like a horny teenager.”

You moan around him.

“Had me pacing like a madman,” he growls. “And now you’re here, and I’m gonna fuck your throat before I even let myself come.”

You hollow your cheeks. Take him deeper. He grits his teeth. Thrusts once, twice. Not hard, just firm enough to feel it. Your eyes water. You blink up at him, drooling.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he whispers. “You send me tits and then show up dripping, no bra, no panties. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

You nod, lips stretched, spit running down your chin. “Fucking perfect,” he groans. Then he pulls out with a pop, fists his cock once, and grabs your arm. “Get on the bed,” he says. “I’m not even close to done.”

You sprawl. Breathless. Dripping. Your thighs part instinctively and your hoodie hikes up, flashing the soaked skin between your legs. Charles groans like he’s in pain.

“Take that fucking thing off,” he snaps, tugging the hoodie over your head before you can even respond. “Wanna see everything.”

You’re bare in seconds. Laid out. Skin flushed. Nipples peaked. Wet leaking down your thighs. He stands at the edge of the bed. Pants around his knees. Cock in his hand. Eyes glowing. “You’ve got five seconds to tell me if you want this soft.”

You blink. Say nothing. Just open your legs wider. He snarls. “Oh, you’re a little fucking menace.”

He climbs over you, grabs your thighs, and slams his cock inside. You scream. No build-up. No warning. Just raw, soaked, perfect stretch. Your pussy clenches around him immediately and he punches out a groan that sounds half-animal. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he growls into your neck. “You’re soaking. You wanted this.”

You arch under him. Moan. Grab his shoulders. He sets a brutal pace, hips snapping, skin slapping, sweat slicking between your bodies like you’ve been fucking for hours.

Your head spins. "Fuck- Charles- too fast-”

“Too fast?” he pants. “You show up like that, no panties, tits bouncing around under that fucking hoodie- and you think I’m gonna be gentle?”

He pulls out halfway and slams back in. You cry out. He does it again. Again. “You sent me tits, baby. On purpose.” He thrusts deep. Slow. Just once. “Now take the consequences.”

You whimper. He pulls your legs up around his waist. Adjusts the angle. Fucks deeper. Rougher. One hand on your throat, not choking - just holding. Possessive. Grounding.

You moan his name. Loud. Wrecked. His eyes flash. “Yeah, say it again. Scream it.”

You do. Over and over. Like a prayer. Like it’s the only word you’ve got left. He leans down. Bites your shoulder. Drags his teeth across your collarbone and whispers: “Fucking ruined. Look at you.”

You can’t. You’re gone. Fucked out. Wet. Slick sounds filling the room like a porno. He pulls out suddenly. Flips you over. Slaps your ass once. hard. You cry out again. He slides back in from behind. Bare. Deep. Your hands scramble for the sheets. You sob into the mattress. “Charles- oh my god-”

He grabs your hair. Fists it. Pulls. “This what you wanted, baby?” he growls. “Wanted me like this?”

You nod frantically. “Yes-yes-please don’t stop-”

He doesn’t. He just fucks you harder. And harder. Until you’re sobbing. Until your pussy is soaked and clenching and your thighs are trembling. Until he comes with a shout, hips slamming deep, cock twitching as he spills everything inside. And you come seconds after. Crying. Shaking. Your body giving out beneath him.

He stays there. For a beat. Two. Then pulls out slow. And watches his come drip out of you like he’s in love.

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

BRO I THOUGHT THIS MEANT THAT KIMI WAS FUCKING MAX'S GIRLFRIEND AND I WAS SO CONFUSED OOOOOOPS

Max seeing Kimi A. as a sweet, innocent kid that he “adopted” as his rookie kid but then accidentally walks in on Kimi and his girlfriend being absolutely disgusting (and Kimi jokingly offering to let him join just to traumatize him a bit further)

He’s Just a Kid - KA12 (MV1)

Masterlist

summary: Max Verstappen considers Kimi Antonelli his unofficial rookie child — quiet, polite, painfully sweet. Until one night in the paddock, Max walks into the wrong hospitality room and stumbles upon Kimi absolutely destroying his girlfriend. Not only is the kid not innocent, he's filthy. Max tries to run. Kimi? Just grins and says, “Wanna join?”

warnings: explicit language, implied smut (not described in detail), voyeur accidental walk-in, trauma comedy, Max being emotionally damaged, Kimi being chaotic and cocky, girlfriend reader is confident and very much not innocent, unhinged energy, Max spiralling

It was 11:42 PM. The paddock was almost empty, still humming with the distant echo of freight crates and the occasional snorted laugh from mechanics packing down gear. The sky was dark and heavy with heat, low clouds smudging the night with the promise of rain. Most drivers were either asleep, drunk, or deep in debriefs they’d already mentally checked out of.

Max Verstappen was doing none of those things. He was hunting for water. Not sparkling. Not flavoured. Not some bio-organic hydration drink Daniel had left half-open in the Red Bull fridge. Just plain fucking water. Still. Cold. Uncomplicated. Something he could hold in his hand and pretend it was holding his life together.

His suite had nothing. Red Bull’s catering was locked. So he wandered.

Hood up. Slides on. Head low. He didn’t even realise he’d crossed the paddock line until he was standing at the door of Mercedes hospitality, tapping the handle out of habit.

It was cracked open. He stepped in. And the world ended. Not immediately. At first, it was just noise. Soft. Rhythmic. Breathy. A whisper of motion behind the divider curtain in the VIP lounge. The kind of noise that your brain doesn’t register until your spine already knows.

Then he heard it. A moan. High. Feminine. Real. Then another. Then a low grunt. Rough. Young. Familiar. Too familiar.

The curtain shifted, slightly, and Max caught a flash of pale skin, a thigh, a shadowed torso and... Oh no.

That was Kimi. That was Kimi fucking Antonelli. Someone else bent over the couch. Shirtless. Hair messy. Hands gripping hips like his fucking life depended on it. And underneath him, eyes closed, mouth open, cheeks flushed — was you.

Max didn’t scream. Not out loud. But inside? Pure agony.

He’d felt like he raised that kid. Not literally. But emotionally. In the way that older drivers take one rookie under their wing like a pet project. Like a little brother you let sit at your table, teach to play padel, buy ice cream for after a shitty DNF.

He’d mentored Kimi. Told him how to manage media. Showed him how to swear in three languages. Defended him from Helmut fucking Marko once in the back of a golf cart.

He’d even given him a helmet decal, once. A good luck charm.

And this ? this was how God repaid him?

Kimi didn’t stop thrusting. Didn’t slow down. Didn’t even fucking blink. He just turned his head slightly, caught Max standing frozen in the doorway, and grinned like the goddamn Joker. “Hey, Max.”

Max opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

Kimi raised an eyebrow. Still balls deep in you. Still fucking you like he’d done this a thousand times. Still so smug it made Max want to throw up.

“You want something?” Kimi asked, like Max had just wandered into a café and not a live amateur porn set.

“I-what the fuck-”

Kimi tilted his head. “You lost?”

Max took a full step backwards. His soul had already left the building. His body was pure panic.

“Want to join?” Kimi added, voice like molten sin.

Max choked. “You did not just-”

Kimi just laughed.

You, beneath him, not even fazed, just shifted slightly to look over your shoulder, hair messy, lips swollen, pupils blown, and gave Max a sweet little wink.

“Hi, Max,” you said innocently. “Sorry, I think we booked the room first.”

Max turned and bolted. He tripped on the carpet. Nearly slammed into a ficus plant. Barely managed to yank the door shut behind him without screaming.

He didn’t stop moving until he reached Red Bull. Didn’t stop sprinting until he collapsed into the first chair he could find inside the media centre, breath ragged, chest heaving, hoodie halfway off his shoulder.

Yuki looked up from his phone. “Jesus. You okay?”

Max didn’t speak.

Yuki put his phone down. “Max?”

Max just stared into the distance like he’d seen a murder. “I saw… I saw things.”

Yuki leaned forward. “Be more specific.”

“Kimi.”

That made Yuki pause. “Kimi… doing what?”

Max covered his face. “Fucking. His girlfriend. Probably Satan. I don’t know. He was smiling.”

Yuki blinked. “Wait-you walked in on Kimi?”

“I thought he was a baby. I thought he was sweet.”

“He’s eighteen, Max.”

“He called me sir in Baku.”

Yuki coughed. “You’re not even thirty.”

“He had his hand in her hair, Yuki. Her fucking hair.”

Yuki started laughing. Hard. Loud. Like Max had just told the greatest joke of the season. “Oh my God,” he gasped. “You’ve been rookie-traumatised.”

“He offered to let me join.”

Yuki wheezed. Max slumped in the chair like a man who had witnessed the collapse of Rome.

Kimi found him the next morning at catering. Bright-eyed. Clear-skinned. Wearing a hoodie that definitely wasn’t his.

“Hey, Max,” he said cheerfully, picking up a plate of eggs like he hadn’t ruined Max’s life twelve hours earlier.

Max didn’t look up.

Kimi nudged his chair. “Still mad?”

“You’re dead to me.”

Kimi smiled. “You said that last time I beat you at a karting race.”

“You weren’t balls deep in someone then.”

“You walked in on us. That’s on you.”

“You invited me.”

Kimi grinned wider. “You looked curious.”

Max stood up, pointed a finger, and hissed, “You’re grounded.”

“I’m not your kid.”

“You were. But now I need to be rebaptised.”

Kimi just took a sip of orange juice and winked. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Nah but I am so clumsy as well I have the fattest bruise on my knee atm

could you write one where the reader is really clumsy, falls around and stuff and she has a lot of bruises on her legs so the everyone on the grid is messing with her (on practice day) about her and oscar being wild and him giving her the bruises

take it from there in which ever direction you want

Bruised from fucking? - OP81 🔥

Masterlist

summary: You've got a habit of falling over cables, knocking your shins on garage steps, and walking into stationary things like chairs and fire extinguishers. You'd think the grid would understand that. But no—one week of bruised legs and suddenly everyone thinks Oscar is manhandling you in bed. warnings: clumsy!reader, soft dom!oscar, chaotic grid teasing, bruising (not serious), sexual innuendo, group chat madness, teasing, implied smut, Oscar being smug, fluff + filth undertones

You really, truly, did not expect a single bruise to go viral.Okay, so maybe it wasn't just one. But it's not your fault your coordination has the consistency of whipped cream on a hot day.

You bruise easily. Always have. Your legs are just... collision-prone.

Garage floor edges, stiff cables, those portable media chairs that look soft but are secretly made of reinforced death. Your knees are like magnets. The bruises on your legs weren't cute, but they were harmless. Mostly on your shins and thighs. Some yellowed and fading, some newer.

What you didn't realise, of course, was that the shorts you wore on media day in Barcelona, cute, beige, high-waisted, barely longer than your McLaren team polo, put every single one of those little war wounds on full display.

You also didn't realise George Russell had the peripheral vision of a hawk and the maturity of a 14-year-old boy. He catches sight of you as you round the corner from McLaren hospitality toward the media pen. His eyes flick down. He stops mid-stride.

"Oh my god," he mutters, and before you can even say hello, his face breaks into a slow, evil grin. "Didn't know Piastri had it in him."

You blink. "What?"

George gestures to your thighs. "Those, babe. Your legs. Jesus Christ."

"I bumped into the hydraulic lift last night, George."

He grins wider. "Is that what they're calling it now?"

You groan. "Are you twelve?"

He shrugs. "You're the one walking around the paddock looking like Fifty Shades of Papaya."

You storm off. Which would be fine, except he takes a picture of your retreating bruised legs and sends it to the grid's group chat with the caption:

GEORGE 🕊️: Piastri needs to chill. Girl can't even walk.

By lunch, it's chaos. Pierre sees you by the coffee stand and gives you the once-over, gaze lingering dramatically on the bruise near your inner thigh. He whistles. "Oof. That's at least a seven out of ten. Wild weekend, non?"

You roll your eyes. "I walked into the sim rig. It's made of metal, Pierre."

He winks. "So is Oscar, apparently."

Lando doesn't even pretend to be subtle. He strolls past McLaren's hospitality deck just as you're stretching one leg on the bottom rail, trying to soothe the tightness in your hamstring, and shouts, "Jesus, give her a break next time, Oscar! She's got media duties, not a physio appointment!"

You nearly fall off the railing. Oscar, who's standing not two metres away sipping a smoothie, deadpans, "She bruises easy."

You snap your head toward him. "Oscar."

"What?" he says, way too innocent. "You do."

"Don't help me."

He shrugs, unfazed.

Charles, walking past with a banana in one hand and his phone in the other, offers a soft smile and a concerned, "Do you need help walking?"

You want the ground to swallow you whole.

And then the social team gets involved. The McLaren TikTok from Free Practice goes up that afternoon. The video starts innocently enough, you tripping over a cable as you try to walk backwards, Oscar catching you by the waist in one smooth motion and pulling you upright.

Then the freeze-frame. The zoom. The caption.

"Supportive boyfriend or the reason for the bruises? 👀 #McLaren #OscarPiastri #F1"

You scream into your lanyard. Oscar? Smirks. The group chat is in flames by dinner.

PIERRE 👑: I'm just saying... the thigh placement? That's strategic bruising. 

MAX 🧊: tell oscar to aim lower next time unless she's got a race engineer kink

GEORGE 🕊️: she passed the fuck-me-from-behind limp test this morning btw

LEWIS 🐐: do gen z not believe in safe words or are y'all just playing on nightmare mode

LANDO 🐝: be honest: is your safe word "brake bias"?

YOU: THEY'RE. NOT. SEX. BRUISES.

OSCAR 🦘: i mean. not all of them.

YOU: OSCAR. YOU TRAITOR.

Later that night, you're in Oscar's hotel room, tucked under the duvet, still glaring at your phone as you read through a Reddit thread that's convinced you're being railed like a lawn chair every night because of a single shot of your legs on F1TV.

Oscar watches you scroll. He's freshly showered, hair damp, hoodie soft and sleeves pushed up to the elbows. He's lying on his side beside you, one hand gently resting on the same thigh that sparked the chaos.

"Still mad?" he asks, amused.

You pout. "I tripped over a tire gun. And somehow now half the internet thinks you choked me out with a halo."

He laughs. Soft and warm. Then kisses your bare shoulder and whispers, "I mean, I could, if that would make you feel better."

You groan. "Don't you dare."

"You like when I leave little marks, though."

You bite your lip. "That's different."

He shifts closer. Presses his mouth to the darkest bruise on your thigh. "Say the word," he murmurs, "and I'll give them a real reason to talk."

Your breath catches. You're so screwed.

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

It was over a long fucking time ago

once you start referring to a sports team as we/our/us……… that’s when you know it’s over for you

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

He's not one for the cold bless him

#mood

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

I wish I could say I didn't enjoy this but that would be a fat lie

thirty three and the stars - MV1 🔥

Masterlist

summary: you got the tattoo on impulse. 33. four stars. lower back. a secret. max was never supposed to see it — until your shirt rides up in the kitchen and he loses his fucking mind. warning: explicit smut, tattoo kink, possessive!max, degradation + praise, oral (f receiving), bent over the counter, finishing on her back, messy, filthy dialogue, obsession, unhinged feral behavior, brief choking, dom!max, max in love with the tattoo

You were just making coffee. That was it. No lingerie. No teasing. No plan to wreck Max Verstappen before 10am. You were barefoot, shirt too big, barely awake. Your hair was tied up, one sock missing, and you’d just dropped the spoon on the kitchen floor.

So you bent down to pick it up. That’s all. But Max, who’d walked in quietly, shirtless, still sleep-warm and scratching his stomach, stopped cold behind you. Dead silent. Then, like he’d been shot: “What the fuck is that.”

You blinked, still bent, glancing over your shoulder. “What’s what?”

He didn’t answer. Just stared. At your lower back. Where the hem of your shirt had lifted enough to reveal it: ink-black, thin-lined, sexy as hell. 33. Right above your ass. Followed by four small stars. Each one clean. Precise. Permanent. Max’s number. His titles. His legacy, on your body.

“Oh,” you said softly, standing up, the shirt falling back down. “That. I forgot I hadn’t told-”

“Take it off,” he said.

You blinked. “What?”

“The shirt. Take it off. Now.”

You turned fully, eyes wide. Max’s pupils were blown, jaw tight, chest rising like he was pissed or turned on or both. “Max, it’s just a-”

“I said,” he growled, stepping forward, voice lower, darker, “take it the fuck off.”

You obeyed. The shirt hit the floor. Max stepped behind you again, hands hot on your hips, and yanked the waistband of your shorts down just enough to see it fully.

His breath caught. “You tattooed my fucking number.”

You swallowed. “Yeah.”

“And the stars. For the championships?”

You nodded. “One for each.”

He exhaled through his nose. One hand slipped up your spine. The other gripped your waist. “You didn’t fucking tell me.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise-”

“You don’t surprise me with that.”

“I didn’t think you’d-”

“Get on the counter.”

You froze. “What?”

His hand came up. Wrapped around your throat, not tight, just enough to hold. He turned your face to look at him. His voice was calm. Deadly. Ferocious. “I said get on the fucking counter.”

You scrambled.

The marble was cold beneath your thighs as you climbed up, shorts slipping lower, shirt abandoned. You leaned back on your hands, wide-eyed.

Max stepped between your legs. His mouth was on you in seconds. No warning. No teasing. Just dropped to his knees and devoured you like he was trying to fuck his initials into your clit. Tongue flat, rough, fast, one hand pinning your thigh and the other reaching up to grab your breast.

You screamed.

“Max-Max-ohmygod-”

He didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow down. He ate you like he was claiming you. Like that tattoo flipped a switch in his head and now all he could think about was owning you. When you came, you arched so hard your head hit the cupboard.

Max licked through it. Pulled back with your slick all over his chin. “Hands flat on the counter.”

You barely had time to nod before he flipped you. Bent you over the marble, one hand on the back of your neck, the other yanking your shorts down to your knees. Your ass was bare. The tattoo in perfect view.

Max groaned like it hurt to look at. “Fucking perfect. My number. My girl.”

You moaned, pushing your hips back. “Please-”

He undid his boxers behind you, cock already hard, already dripping. You felt the head nudge your entrance. You sobbed.

“No,” he said, voice cruel. “You don’t get it there today.”

“What-?”

“I’m gonna come on it first.”

You gasped. “What?”

“On the tattoo,” Max growled. “On my fucking number. And then I’m gonna fuck you so hard you forget how to walk.”

You cried out.

His hand wrapped around his cock. You heard it, the sound of him stroking, rough and fast, right behind you. His other hand kept you pinned.

And then... Hot. Wet. Everywhere.

He came with a low, broken groan, and you felt it hit your lower back in hot streaks, dripping over the 33, the stars, your skin slick and sticky and marked.

You were shaking. He didn’t even pause. One breath. Then two fingers shoved into your cunt, pumping hard.

You shrieked. “God, you’re soaked,” he panted. “You liked that?”

“Yes- yes- Max- fuck-”

“You want me to ruin it?”

“Yes- please-”

He pulled his fingers out. Licked them clean. Then he fucked into you in one deep, brutal thrust. You collapsed onto the counter. Max didn’t stop. He drove into you hard and fast, moaning at the mess he’d made of your back, whispering how proud he was that you wore his number. How fucking good you looked taking him like that. How no one else got you like this.

“Mine,” he groaned. “All fucking mine.”

You came again with a wail. Max followed seconds later. When he pulled out, breathless, your legs were shaking so badly he had to lift you off the counter himself.

He cleaned you up. Wiped his cum off your back like it was sacred. Then pressed a kiss to the tattoo and whispered, “I’m getting five stars on my arm for you.”

You laughed, dazed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, cradling you against him.

“Think you’ll win a fifth?”

He grinned. “If you let me fuck you on the podium, yeah.”

You slapped his arm. But later that night, he pulled your shirt up again just to stare. Couldn’t stop touching it. Couldn’t stop touching you.

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

MY BABIESSSS 😭😭😭😭 BE READY FOR ME TO BE SAT REFRESHING TUMBLR THE WHOLE OF TMRW 🙌🙌

THE NERD SERIES MEANS SM TO ME YOU DONT EVEN UNDERSTAND 🥺🙌

Refresh at around half seven GMT love, it should be up around that time 💖💖

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

OH GOODNESS MY BABIES ARE GOING TO PROMMMMM 😖😖😖😖 i just adore them and can’t wait to see what happens next

Oh they're going to prom alright

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

ALSO

apologies for the spam.

BUT THE MAX AND LILY REDEMPTION!!!????!!!!!! we are healing i am so stinkin’ happy. max telling lando to just go for it ahhhh!! 🥹 you have written this series so well and im genuinely in awe everytime a chapter drops.

Redemption... this is definitely going to continue... 100%...

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

SORRY IS THAT 2 NERD FICS OUT IN A WEEK?????? IM TAKING THIS AS AN EARLY BIRTHDAY PRESENT 🙌🙌 IM GOING TO GO READ IT RN IM SO EXCITED 🙏🙏😭😭

And there is another tomorrow so get strapped in 💖

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

“Oh I’m bored, just gonna re-read the Nerd Lando as I usually do. Nothing out the ordinary, just a casual day to read my one of my favourite tumblr author’s stories-“

…

“There’s an update tomorrow?!!?”

.

.

.

I’m sat.

You're too sweet I swear, I'm glad I am somehow one of your favourites! And yes, there is an update tomorrow, buckle up! 💖

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

oh i will be ATTENTIVE on wednesday u already know

Hahaha I was waiting for you to see it of all people 😂

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

missing the lando nerd series like craaazy!! hope your well :))

The series that I have fallen oh so in love with, and I hope you've been enjoying it as much as I am! Thought I would put it all here so that it doesn't look super bulky on the master list.

Nerd

Rumours

So Special

Something Else

Milk Aisle

Day Off

Too Much *Out Now!*

When Things Work *23/7/25*

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

(5) No Place Like Home - Charles Leclerc

<word count - 7172> |the full series|

"Do you want me to come in with you, or do you want to go in by yourself?" Charles asked as the car rolled to a halt outside of your house. It was in the same position that it was the first time, and you could still hear the shot ringing through your head.

"Can you come with me?" you quietly asked, looking towards him. He knew where the body had been, but you didn't. Maybe he'd be able to steer you away from that area of the house, but you believed him when he had said that there was no trace of it anywhere. 

"Course I can, sweetheart," he smiled, "Just wait there for a sec," he told you, and you stayed put like you were told to. His seemingly normal use of pet names with you never failed to make heat rise through your cheeks. Charles got out of the car and quickly rounded the bonnet and opened your door. "After you," he said, bowing his body slightly.

You couldn't help but giggle at his antics, stepping out of the car as you played along. "Why thank you, kind sir," you said, putting on a posh accent. This caused Charles to smile as he closed the door behind you. 

"You're very welcome, milady," he chuckled as you started to walk up the gravel path to your front door. Charles strode ahead, producing your house key out of his pocket. You had forgotten that he had taken it a few days ago, but it didn't really matter.

He pushed the key into the lock and turned it with a smooth click. You didn't like the way that the house felt now. There was a certain eeriness about it, and it felt like the walls were closing in slightly, like the windows were watching you.

Feeling such a magnitude of discomfort in your own home was unsettling, and it wasn’t something you wanted to feel for much longer. You stood for a minute in the entrance hall, just looking around. The door to your left was slightly ajar, and you could see the old teal couch poking through. 

Your bedroom door to your right was closed, and you knew you needed to go in there at some point,  but you didn't feel like it just at that time. You had a feeling that it had happened in there. And the way that Charles was looking at you told you that. 

As you flicked your eyes over to the door, his were searching your face for any signs that you knew. And he found it as your pupils dilated slightly and your gaze was quickly snatched over to the kitchen. 

The floorboards creaked underneath your feet as you stepped heavily on them. You put your bag down on the kitchen island at which you had spent many a morning at, cooking breakfast, writing emails, hosting little get togethers with your friends.

Charles leant against the wall and watched as you went and opened the fridge, looking at the expired food that had gone out of date a few days back. You poured the spoiled milk down the sink, leaving the empty carton on the side for when you'd eventually take it out to the bins.

You stepped past the small dining table to the right of the island, glancing at the pictures from over the years. One of you by yourself, you with your parents, you with a couple friends, the dog you used to have when you were a kid. 

Charles was still standing, intently observing you. Carefully, too. He watched your every movement, analysing every step that you took. You gazed at them, reminiscing on the happy memories that were snapshotted in the frame. 

He wondered what it was like to have such fond memories. As a child, he was kept in the house or at boarding school, where he was safe. He was kept away from Dad's business until he was old enough to learn the ways.

He saw things no person, let alone a child, should have to see when he was at home. He watched the man he was supposed to admire turn into the man who he was always taught not to be. No one in that world was squeaky clean, but his father went down a dark path. 

He was actually glad when he had everything handed over to him. The deeds to the house were signed in his name, the deeds to all the houses were. The money was transferred, the payslips were too. He fixed it. He brought a little light to the dark. Just a little, yes, but it was something. 

He also wondered what it would be like to live such a domestic life. A little house, small enough to manage without a plethora of maids and housekeepers. There was no way he could get lost in this place, and it had a cosy, closed feel compared to the cold openness of the mansion. 

You looked so in place here, right at home. Plus, in this little house, he could keep you safe. He could hear you wherever he was and he'd be able to get to you in an instant. 

He could imagine waking up and making his own breakfast, maybe making it for someone else too. For you. He remembered the layout already. He'd knock through the walls around the bedroom, just so that he could make sure you were sleeping happily at all times. 

His thoughts drifted slightly. To a place he wasn't quite sure he was liking. A place that he should never have let his mind wander to. As he stood there, he imagined the house with that wall knocked through like he wanted. He could see the bed that he had only seen for a few, short moments when he was... talking to the guy that was there.

And, all of a sudden, there you were. You were sound asleep, and he was standing in the kitchen that was before him, making the two of you coffee. He quietly walked over to your side, avoiding those few squeaky planks that he had memorised. 

He set the mug down on your bedside table, before kneeling down next to you. He wouldn't want to wake you, but he knew he had to. You had work in a short while, and he wanted to give you enough time to get ready. Plus, the earlier you got up, the more time he'd get to spend with you before you went. 

He assumed that, in this alternate universe, he didn't do the same job that he currently had. Maybe he'd work in an office. He heard that it was the most menial job a man could have, but he figured the lack of excitement would be a welcomed adjustment for him. 

For a few moments, he'd just watch you. Not in a creepy way, of course. In a fond, loving way. He'd gently shake you awake, watching as your eyes fluttered open and as you smiled when you saw him. "Good morning, sweetheart," he'd greet with a gentle kiss on the cheek.

You'd slowly sit up, taking the coffee off of your bedside table, the mug warm in your hand. And just as quickly as the weird notion had come into his head, you were brushing past him to walk into your bedroom. In real life, that is. 

He was internally berating himself for letting himself think like that. That would never happen. The only reason the two of you were anything was because of his morally grey lifestyle that had screwed you over.

He had no right to be thinking of such a domestic little scene with you, and he didn’t even know where the feelings had sprung from. He didn’t like the fact that he wanted these things with you. He wasn’t even going to get them with anyone in general, let alone you.

The one person who probably hated his guts more than anything in the world. And here he was. Trying not to admit to himself that he felt like he was falling for you, even if he didn’t really know what that was meant to feel like. 

Once you had pressed down the door handle, you waited for a moment. Taking a deep breath, you pushed it wide open, remaining stood in the door frame for a short while. "You OK?" Charles quietly whispered, your response just being a nod. 

He knew you knew, that was very much apparent. But as you looked at the still pristine white bedsheets, and the still perfectly white walls and thin, non stained curtains that fell over your windows like waterfalls, everything was fine. 

He was right, there was not a single thing out of place. It was just how you left it. Charles took your place in the door frame as you entered the room, not wasting anymore time as you opened the wardrobe and scanned its contents. 

You had to decide what to take and what to leave behind for the time being. "If there's anything you can't take today, we can come back. And you can bring whatever you want to the house, literally whatever. You want your coffee machine? Sure. Bed? Course. Hell, if you want your own refrigerator taken to the house, then we can have that arranged, OK?" he said.

"OK," you chuckled, glad to have the option of having the very specific creature comforts that you wanted. "Can you pass me the bag off the island, please?"

"Sure," he agreed, taking the few steps necessary to get to the island. He handed it to you, and you started sorting through drawers, picking out garments and items. Yes, you couldn't quite take everything that you wanted today, but Charles said you'd be able to come back, and you probably would. 

Unless you could go home before that. That seemed highly unlikely, but you still held out that little bit of hope. Life with Charles wasn't sounding so bad anyway, you thought. A cushy life without having to work a single minute, and you could do whatever you wanted. 

You carried on deliberating and choosing what you were taking, while Charles got another, better look around the room. The thoughts were coming back. He was hating this sudden yearning to have a quiet, cozy little life with you. 

Suddenly, he was having this out of body experience. Again. There was rain pattering down the windows like they were having a race of whoever could get to the sill first. The two of you were in bed, him on the right, you on the left as he observed the scene. 

Well, you were more in the middle as he held you to his chest, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other's fingers trailing absentmindedly up and down your arm. It was one of those lazy Sundays. 

You'd probably watch a movie in a little while, but for now, you'd just enjoy the peace of the rain and the sound of each other's breaths. You could hear the faint drum of his heartbeat. "I love you," you said, and the real Charles had to blink his eyes a few times so that you'd disappear. 

He didn't want to keep thinking back to this alternate-universe version of you and him. You'd never have met if it weren't for that fateful night, and you were probably only nice to him because you were terrified of what he could do to you.

"OK, I think that's everything I can take for now." you said, walking out of your bedroom and closing the door promptly behind you. He refocused his mind on the current world Charles, the one that was in your house with you. 

You stopped in your tracks at the front door, before quickly doubling back and dashing back over to the dining table. You plucked the pictures off the wall, neatly placing them on top of the items of clothing in the bag you had brought. 

You headed back out towards the door, stepping out onto the front porch as Charles did too. You locked the door behind you, before placing your keys back in your pocket. "Let me know whenever you want to come back, or if I need to get Francisco to move any of the bigger things," he giggled, looking at Francisco through the car window.

"Will do," you smiled as he opened your door for you.

"Do you want lunch now or would you rather we wait a little longer?" he asked, getting in at his side. Charles shuffled around a little, getting comfortable in his seat. 

“Yeah, we can go now,” you nodded, and Francisco started the engine and started driving to Charles’ favourite lunch destination. You drove past some of the most familiar places, some of Monaco’s most iconic, as well as along the classic hairpin turn that was part of the F1 track. 

Charles offered a hand for you as he helped you out of the car, and your eyes scanned the place you had stopped outside of. It wasn’t the kind of place you thought would be Charles’ usual haunt. 

You thought he would like the more suave places, accents of gold and dark furniture with crystal chandeliers hanging above the secluded booths. There would be waiters and waitresses, immaculately and smartly dressed with near perfect posture, carrying champagne in coolers and lobsters on beds of salad. 

Instead, this place was bright and airy. The colours were light and the room was mainly open, the floor consisting of tables dotted around for 2 or 4. You could see a balcony from where you were standing that appeared to have a view of the ocean. 

The staff were smiley, and it seemed like there were people from all walks of life at the tables. They smiled as they saw you and Charles walk in, clearly used to his presence. Instead of waiting for them to seat him, he walked straight through the restaurant, through the glass balcony doors and led you over to a table overlooking the ocean. 

Even with the screen doors slid shut, you could still hear the faint chatter and sounds of glasses and plates on tables. It was a nice background noise, even when the two of you were removed from the rest of the patrons in the restaurant.

As Charles pulled your chair out for you, you flashed him a smile as you cast your eyes out over the cerulean blue water. Even though the view was practically identical to the one you had from the balcony at Charles’, the magic never diminished. 

There was something about the way the sun bounced off the surface and made it look like glitter coating the water that was captivating, no matter how many times you saw it. Charles sat opposite you, his expression soft as he admired the look of adoration on your face. 

It was such a simple thing, but it was so beautiful. The sun made your skin and eyes look like they were glowing, and it was a peaceful moment that he would think about later down the line. There was just something about you and the serenity of the moment that warmed his heart.

You were both cut out of your trances when a waitress slipped through the sliding doors with two menus and a notepad in hand. She placed the menus down in front of both of you, asking what you wanted to drink or if you needed more time to decide. 

Charles had already made his mind up and just asked for the ‘usual’, whatever that was. He said he would have his usual to eat as well, in addition to the same for you. When you asked what he had ordered exactly, he kept it ambiguous with a ‘you’ll see, you’ll love it I promise.’

A few minutes later, the waitress returned with a cooler containing what was, undoubtedly, their finest red. As per, Charles would only want the best, and that was no exception - even in smaller establishments such as this one. 

“I’m guessing this is your spot of choice, huh?” you asked, even though you knew the answer.

“Yeah, I like this place. It’s not pretentious, they don’t know who I am or what I do. They simply appreciate my patronage,” he smiled. He liked how it was completely different to what he was used to. It was like a breath of fresh air for him.

“I love it, the atmosphere is really nice,” you agreed. 

“I’m glad you like it, I can bring you here more often,” he smiled, resting his elbows on the table as he looked at you. This was something he could get used to: having you opposite him at lunches that felt awfully similar to a date.

“Well I’ll see how the food is first,” you chuckled, your smile being something he could never get tired of. It was like a ray of sunshine in his naturally darkened world. 

“I promise, it’s great. I wouldn’t take you anywhere that I didn’t think was the best,” he lightly teased, leaning back in his chair. It wasn’t long before your food had appeared in front of you, even if you had both already sunk one glass of the red each.

“Right… what is it?” you asked, your eyes picking apart the food in front of you as you tried to decipher what it actually was.

Charles chuckled at your reaction. “It’s a modern spin on a classic dish: Duck a l’Orange,” he said and you just squinted at him, the act of putting a name to the dish still giving you no indication into what he had ordered.

“It’s duck and orange?” you questioned, tilting your head in curiosity. 

“Essentially, yes. But it really depends on how it’s cooked. If done right, you end up with perfectly tender meat with crispy skin and a perfect mix of sweet and tangy in the sauce. If not, the duck is rubbery, the skin is soggy and the sauce tastes like it comes from a sweet shop. This place makes it perfect,” he explained, not wasting anymore time in picking up his knife and fork and tucking in. 

“Try it, go on. Don’t worry, if you don’t like it, we can get you something else, it’s no problem,” he reassured, the thought that you might not like duck suddenly dawned on him. He felt like a bit of a fool, but it was worth it if you like it. 

You sliced up some of the duck breast, your knife slipping through it like it was hot butter. You didn’t want to sit there and look at it as it was skewered on your fork, so you slotted it into your mouth and thought about the flavours on your tongue.

It had an earthy taste, to some degree, but it was cancelled out by the flawlessly balanced orange sauce that coated the meat. It was lovely, if you were being short about it. “Damn, this is good,” you agreed after swallowing. 

“I’m glad you like it,” Charles replied, letting out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in. He was glad you liked it, and could bring you here more often if you wanted to. Lunch went by smoothly, both of you thoroughly invested in the food. 

It wasn’t long before the bottle of red had been finished, the remnants remaining in the bottoms of both of your crystal glasses. Your plates were soon cleared away, along with the cooler and glasses. 

“Well that was lovely, thank you for bringing me,”

“Any time, I’ll put it down as a place we can come to if we’re in need of a lunch spot.” he nodded as the waitress came over so that Charles could pay. You opened your mouth to protest, to try and chip something in, but he shot you a sharp glance, his eyes telling you that there was no room for argument. 

Once the waitress walked away, a substantial cash tip in hand, the pair of you stood and walked out of the pretty cafe. Charles had a firm hand on the small of your back, leading you out to where Francisco was waiting with the car. 

“Do you want to head home or go for a short walk?” Charles asked, stopping by the sleek black vehicle. 

“We can go for a walk, sure,” you decided, wanting to make the most of the nice weather and even nicer company. Francisco said he’d be staying by the car and waiting, even if both him and Charles knew he’d be following along from a distance. 

Due to it being a regular weekday, the pavements were relatively empty, the only people wandering around being filthy rich pensioners and the lucky people who had the day off. The sky was bright and blue with barely any clouds floating overhead.

It was nice to feel a sense of freedom after being cooped up in Charles’ mansion for the past couple of days. Despite the size and grandeur of the building, it still inhibited any inklings of liberty. You could roam the corridors for hours, yet every lap made the walls feel a little closer and the ceilings a little lower. 

As the two of you walked in comfortable silence, your eyes feasted upon the more luxurious parts of Monaco that you had never treated yourself to seeing. Designer boutiques lined the walkway and you could practically smell the scent of cash wafting through the air. 

Scattered between the shops were wine bars, where a glass seemed to cost more than the entirety of your food shop for a month, but it was reserved for the more refined of customers. And the ones in a different tax bracket - well, Monaco’s taxing systems were dubious at best. 

To say the clothes in the windows you were strolling past were beautiful would have been an understatement. It was like the perfect culmination of class and summer fun, even if they would prevent you from paying your mortgage for the next three months. 

Unfortunately, or fortunately, for you, Charles noticed you staring through the glass for a few split seconds longer than a regular passer by would. “Wanna go in?” he asked, a cheeky smile on his face. He knew you’d say no, so before you knew it, he had taken your hand and dragged you through the door. 

From a distance Francisco smiled to himself, liking the man that Charles was around you. It was nice to see how he could be soft and not always highly strung. He could even see the smirk plastered on his face from where he was, and it warmed his heart like a proud father. 

The shop was empty apart from you, Charles and the store clerk at the till. “Charles, we really don’t-”

“Stop right there, my love. If you’re technically my fiance, then you have to let me treat you as such. Plus, that dress in the window looks like it was made for you, I am simply doing humanity a favour by letting them see you in it,”

“But you bought me lunch,” you countered, and Charles visibly rolled his eyes at you as he let out a small scoff. 

“No, no, no. I will not hear it. You’re going to have to get used to being spoiled, sweetheart,” he said, his tone stern. His gaze was piercing, and you knew better than to argue with him. Before you knew it, Charles was already asking the woman at the counter if you could try the dress on. 

Her eyes brightened after hearing your conversation, and she knew he was in for a big purchase. “Just try it on. Please? For me?” he asked, and he was practically giving you the puppy dog eyes.

“Fine,” you relented, his stubbornness already getting the better of you. You followed the woman into the changing rooms as she carried the dress over her arm. 

“So I’ll be out here if you need any help, just let me know,” she smiled, but there wasn’t much genuineness behind it. 

“Thank you,” you nodded, letting her close the door behind her until you started changing. Once you had it on, you hated to admit that Charles was right. It did look like the dress was made for you. It was absolutely stunning. 

It hugged your figure in all the right places, the length was absolutely perfect, and the colour complimented your skin as if it were professionally matched. You looked at yourself in the mirror for a second, before walking out of the door and where you assumed that Charles was waiting for you. 

As expected, he was sitting on a couch by the fitting room, typing something out on his phone. At the sound of the door, he flicked his eyes up and stopped in his tracks. “Oh my God…” he stuttered, unable to tear his eyes away from you. “You look… wow, chèrie, just wow…” he continued, standing up and taking a few steps towards you. 

He lifted his hands slightly, wanting to put them on your hips so he could tug you closer, but he thought that would be too far. You noticed, but you refrained from saying anything. It would have made this ten times worse.

“You want to try something else on?” he asked, trying to combat the slight awkwardness.

“No, no.” you said.

“You haven’t even looked.” he scoffed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at your stubbornness. You were going to have to get used to him spoiling you one way or another, and he figured the best way for that to happen was him just forcing it upon you. 

“I don’t need to,” you told him, and this time the urge to eye roll simply couldn’t be dodged. 

“Fine, you go wait in the changing room, and I am going to go and look for other things for you to try on, since you’re so opposed to it,” he said, walking away from you and surveying the store for items that he liked the look of. 

Charles picked out a few pretty dresses that he spotted and brought them back in for you, leaving them in the changing room while he sat outside again. “And if you like them, they’re coming home with us and I don’t want any arguments, got it?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you acquiesced with a huff. All you could do was do what he asked, since he would have his way anyway. You had never met a man quite as stubborn as Charles. It was cute in some ways, but absolutely infuriating as well. 

Closing the curtain behind you, you shuffled out of the dress and put it back on the hanger to try on the other things that he had picked. From Charles’ four selections, three of them were more on the tight fitting side.

Of course, he was a lovely man, but he was a man with a man’s brain nonetheless. The other one was a more summery dress. It was white with little yellow flowers on the fabric. Yellow wasn’t your favourite colour, and it was one of the least appreciated tones in your wardrobe. 

But, you pulled it over your head and zipped up the side zipper. Now this was more your style. Again, the colour wasn’t your first choice, but the fit made you look right out of your Pinterest boards.

The skirt was long and flowing all the way down to your ankles, it sinched your waist but accentuated your hips perfectly. You could see yourself having a picnic in this, maybe frolicing through flower-filled fields while you were at it. 

Maybe hand in hand with a certain man you had met recently. But, then again you weren’t allowing yourself to like him. This was something resemblant of Stockholm Syndrome, you thought. You had to keep your admiration of Charles to a minimum. 

When you went out this time, Charles wasn’t on his phone. He had his eyes glued to the velvety surface of the curtain, eagerly waiting to see how you looked. “Now this is going to be the best money I have ever spent,” he smirked, his eyes roaming appreciatively over your body. 

“You look amazing. I’d say I have quite good taste,” he cockily grinned, leaning back in his chair as he carried on admiring the view. You felt hot under his gaze, but you weren’t sure if it was embarrassment or flattery. 

No one had ever complimented you like Charles did other than your parents, so to be appreciated by someone as gorgeous as him was a step in the right direction for your self esteem. Then again, he could have just been doing it to butter you up and make you easier for him to deal with while you were living with him. “That is also coming home with us.” he told you, again leaving no room for argument. 

“Are the other ones not really your style?” he asked, already knowing the answer and the reason. 

“Not really,” you shook your head.

“Why not? And if you’re going to stand there and tell me you don’t have the figure, save your breath because we both know it’s rubbish.” he instructed, and that was your reason gone out of the window.

“They just… make me look like a box,” you said, and Charles scoffed in response. 

“Get your ass in there and try one of them on,” he sternly said, his facial features softening as he realised that he was being too demanding with you. He found it hard to keep business Charles and home Charles from getting mingled in with one another, the people close to him often feeling the wrath in his brief moments of switching from one to the other. 

“Please? For me? You’re going to look gorgeous, I know it.” he gently said, quickly coming to terms with the fact that he was laying it on way too thickly. The flirting was blatantly obvious, but all the man could do was just let his heart do what it wanted. 

He was too used to his brain doing all the talking, leaving his feelings out of such trivial matters. Feelings weren’t as reliable as logic, and that was a policy he had always lived by. But you were making him want to use his feelings more. And he wasn’t liking that. Not one bit. 

You didn’t say anything, going back into the dressing room for one final time to try one of the three dresses on. You threw caution to the wind and picked the one that was least up your alley. There was no surprise that Charles had picked it, the red of the dress and the high slit up your left thigh giving it away. 

It was safe to say you hated it, but when you had it on? Well you were shocked. It gave you that hourglass figure that you only saw on models, and the slit up your thigh was far more to your liking than previously anticipated.  

“Jesus…” he muttered, repressing the feeling of his blood rushing south again. That would make this a hell of a lot more awkward. “You definitely don’t look like a box in that, damn.” he continued, not even hiding the downright shameful way he was looking at your hips and chest. “And that is definitely ending up in your closet.”

“But when will I wear it?” you asked, not wanting for him to spend unnecessary money just because he liked the look of a dress.

“Next time we go for lunch, maybe dinner. Or just around the house.” he listed off, his mind automatically sending him to scenarios where the dress was on the floor of his room, while you were- and there he went again, letting his feelings run the show. 

Well that wasn’t how this was going to fly. He knew he was deprived of a lot of physicalities of a lady, but he didn’t need them to function. He had his needs as any creature did, but you were making those more apparent. And God did he wish you didn’t.

You came out of the changing room with the dresses over your arm that you were keeping, and the sales clerk took the other two away to be put back on display. She quickly scuttled behind the counter to put the items through the register. 

“Go stand outside with Francisco, I’ll only be a minute.” he told you, taking his wallet out of the inside of his suit jacket. It was a weird request, but you did as he asked. In reality, Charles didn’t want you seeing the amount that he was paying for just three dresses since you’d try and stop him, or offer to pay. That wasn’t happening, not over his dead body. 

The dresses had been folded and placed into a bag once he had swiped his card through the reader. It was a hefty sum for three dresses, if he was being realistic, but it was barely a dent in his bank balance. Well, the one he used for leisurely activities, anyway. 

“I can carry that,” you said once he had left the shop, the door closing with the same ding of the bell behind him. 

“No, you won’t,” he told you, keeping it firmly in his hand as you walked with Francisco back to the car. Arguing with him was going to be futile, so you took what he said as gospel and let him do what he wanted. 

The ride back to the mansion almost felt normal, with you, Charles and Francisco talking about current affairs like you were all old friends and like everything was fine and dandy. If only.

Francisco insisted on carrying your bag of shopping up to your room, and Annette was waiting at the bottom of stairs for the three of you to return. “I have some things I need to do, it’ll take me a while,” Charles said as you skipped up the first few stairs. 

“Don’t wait for me for dinner, I’ll have something later.” he told Annette rather than you, also following you up the stairs and going straight to his office. You didn’t like the idea of him missing out on dinner, but the resigned look on Annette’s face told you that this was a common occurrence. 

“Come on, miel. You’ll have to show me what you got,” she smiled, looping her arm through yours and practically dragging you up the stairs. For an old lady, she was pretty damn strong. 

After giving Annette her little fashion show and being absolutely showered in compliments from her, she left you to have some time to yourself while she went to prepare dinner. Charles had chefs, but he often preferred Annette’s cooking to all of them. 

It was weird how settled you felt. The impending fear of having to tell your family and friends, having to lie to them about what you and Charles actually were was still looming, and it wouldn’t go away until after the fact. 

The question also popped up in your mind as to whether they would be in danger after being associated with you and Charles. If there was a man in your house, you assumed that the people after you weren’t opposed to harming innocent people. You were innocent in this too, after all. 

You’d have to ask Charles about it next time you saw him. 

Dinner came and went, with you and Annette just talking about your days. She had just been pottering, wandering around in the garden and doing light spots of cleaning here and there. Charles tried to get her to do less work around the house due to her age, but she always told him how she was fit as a fiddle. 

He had even hired extra staff so that there was less work for her to do throughout the day, but she always found a way to go against his orders. If it was anyone else, they would have had a strict talking to. But not Annette, she got special privileges. 

Afterwards, you went up to your room to turn in early for the night. Just as you had gotten into bed, you heard a door near yours open and close. Then some keys jangling and a key turned a lock into place with a click. Charles. 

Quickly getting back out of bed, you strode over to your door and out into the corridor. He hadn’t noticed your presence, turning to walk down the hall to his room. “Charles?” you called out, a soft smile gracing his face when he swivelled to look at you. 

“Everything OK?” he asked, walking up to you and standing within a metre of you. He looked tired, the slight bags under his eyes giving it away. But, he was still willing to do whatever you were wanting to make you happy and comfortable. 

“Just… thank you. For today. I had a really nice time,” you said, trying to push back the blush that made its way onto your cheeks. Charles found it very endearing, and he wasn’t used to being thanked for doing nice things. He didn’t do nice things often, but they tended not to be appreciated when he did. 

“It’s my pleasure, I really enjoyed myself too,” he nodded, hoping that he’d be able to take you out sometime soon. His schedule was pretty packed for the next couple days with meetings and dealings galore. Even just spending these few days with you had set him back a lot, and he didn’t want to be anymore behind than he was.

“Anyway, I’ll leave you to get food and stuff. You look tired. Goodnight,” you said, making the split decision to lean up and give him a brief kiss on the cheek. You scampered back to your room, not looking back at him. 

You didn’t know what had come over you, your body acting before your brain had the chance to stop it. It was just friendly, that was it. That was what you were trying to tell yourself. It was just friendly. Just a little something to say thank you to him for spoiling you all day. That’s all it was.

Meanwhile, Charles was still standing outside. He was so used to having girls all over him whenever he went out to the club with his associates, or at dinner parties where he was the most eligible bachelor there. This was nothing compared to what they did to him. They’d grab him however they could, vying for his attention. 

But one simple kiss on the cheek from you was enough to set his skin on fire. He had never felt butterflies like this from anyone before in his entire life, so why on Earth was it you of all people that was triggering this reaction?

It was like this rush of warmth that channeled through his entire body and there was no way of cooling it down. The feeling of your soft lips on his cheek was sending his mind into absolute overdrive, and he had no way to slow it all to a halt. 

Later on in the evening, Annette was in her room, just reading one of the books that she had found in the library as she often did. A soft knock on the door interrupted her eyes from scanning across the words on the page. 

“Charles, I told you I don’t know where your watch is!” she shouted out, but all she heard was the deep chuckle of her favourite coworker. 

“Guess again,” he said, and Annette just rolled her eyes. Francisco let himself into the room, going over to perch on the edge of her bed. “You should have seen those two today,” he started, and she nodded to get him to carry on talking. 

“He is absolutely smitten with her. I’ve never seen him that soft,” he smiled. He had never had children of his own, out of selfless reasons. He didn’t think it was fair to bring a child into the world when their father was never home and was at risk of getting killed at any given moment. 

But, he had been around since Charles was little, so he had raised him like he would raise his own son. Him and Annette were like his other two parents apart from his pretty shitty, biological ones. They taught him the lessons that made him the man he was today, not the people who were supposed to love and nurture him. 

“We can’t forget why she’s here in the first place, Francisco.” Annette sighed, liking the fact that Charles was being good to you, but still slightly mad at him for putting you in the situation that he had done.

“I know that, but I think he is fond of her. In a genuine manner at that, not just superficial reasons, or because he feels he has to,” Francisco expanded, and Annette knew he was right. But she was wary about how happy to be about Charles’ feelings.

“And what happens when she resents him because he has ruined her life? What happens if we ever get to a point where she can go home and she undoubtedly takes the option to do so and he’s left heartbroken? And at the same time, he’ll feel guilty for even letting himself feel like that at all,” she rattled off, listing all the reasons as to why Charles’ feelings were just going to end up in tears. 

“Can we not let the boy be happy for once? Just for once? His face has never lit up quite as much as it does when he sees her. And he was blushing like a schoolboy when she kissed him on the cheek earlier,” Francisco countered.

He completely understood where Annette was coming from, since he knew that the probability of this whole thing ending well was slim to none. Yet there was always the part of him that was perfectly willing to let Charles get carried away in his feelings. To just let him enjoy something for once instead of having it tainted for him.

“You’re right… we should just let him enjoy this. For a little while,” Annette agreed, unaware of how deep into this Charles already was. He spent his evening awake, thinking of the future with you. If there was a chance of the two of you being something real and not just some image painted for your family. 

He tried to stop himself before he spiralled any further, but once the ball was rolling, it was hard to stop the momentum. Hard to stop the deep descent into the lunacy of love that he was unfortunately undertaking. Hard to stop himself from needing you.

A/N - One of my favourite chapters! Sorry for being missing in action this past week, I've been so busy. But, we're back to normal proceedings. And, for those of you who have reached the end of this, you get to find out before everyone else that the next part of Nerd, When Things Work, is coming out on Wednesday! Love y'all 💖

tag list: @cinnamongirlv @fangirlmusicbiashoe

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[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Well shit that was bloody good

Hi can you pls write one where lando or toto have been hooking up with reader but then she starts dating another dude. But then she finds out that shes like a month pregnant and knows its lando/totos baby so she tells him, he gets mad but mostly at himself because this wasnt how it was supposed to end? Smutty/happy ending! Thank you!

Mine or his? - LN4 & Toto Wolff 🔥

Masterlist

summary: you’d been hooking up with lando for months - quiet, secret, easy. until it wasn’t. until you started seeing someone else. and then missed a period. and then saw the test. you’re five weeks pregnant, and you know exactly who the father is. it’s not the sweet new guy you’re dating. it’s the one who can’t even look at you when you finally tell him. until he does. warnings: (18+) smut, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, pregnancy mention, unexpected pregnancy, ex-fwb angst, emotional hurt/comfort, jealousy, possessiveness, dom!lando, crying, light degradation, praise, cum eating, safe sex history ignored bc plot, angry sex, happy ending

You almost told him in the paddock. Which would’ve been insane.

But your hands were shaking and your brain was spiralling and he looked so happy in his fucking sunglasses and McLaren jacket like he hadn’t been in your bed five weeks ago muttering your name into your neck while he came inside you.

"Hey," he smiled, bumping his shoulder against yours. "You look good."

Your mouth didn’t work.

Because you were pregnant. Because it was his. Because this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

You’d been hooking up for months.

Late-night texts. Monaco balconies. Your thighs over his shoulders. His name in your throat.

No one knew. Not even Max. Not even your best friend. It wasn’t real. Wasn’t dating. Wasn’t love. It was just Lando. Lando and his stupid curls and quick mouth and the way he kissed you like he didn’t mean it.

But then you started seeing someone else. He wasn’t Lando. But he was nice. And he’d never made you cry into your own hands after leaving your hotel room at 2am like Lando had.

So you moved on. Tried to. And then your period didn’t come. And then the test blinked pregnant: 5 weeks. And your blood went cold.

Because you hadn’t even met the new guy five weeks ago.

You knew who it was. And now you had to tell him.

You found him outside the media centre. Alone. On his phone.

“Can we talk?” you asked.

He looked up. Smiled like he always did. "Yeah, what’s up?"

You pulled him aside, behind a barrier, into the shade.

Then blurted it. No preamble. No cushion. Just, “I’m pregnant.”

He blinked. “What?”

You stared at the gravel. “I’m pregnant.”

The silence hit like a crash.

You kept talking. Couldn’t stop. “It’s been five weeks. And we haven’t- I mean, I hadn’t even slept with Toto yet. So… it’s not his. I didn’t know how to tell you. I don’t want anything from you, I swear, I just-”

“Are you fucking serious right now?”

Your stomach dropped.

He looked stunned. Pale. Angry. But not at you.

“Lando…”

He took a breath. Another. Ran his hand through his curls. Looked away like he couldn’t look at you without combusting. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to fucking end.”

“What?” you whispered.

“You weren’t supposed to move on. You weren’t supposed to get pregnant. You weren’t supposed to-” he shook his head, eyes glassy now. “I should’ve fucking said something. Should’ve told you how I felt.”

You stared. “What are you talking about?”

“I was in love with you, you idiot,” he snapped. “I still am.”

You gasped.

“I didn’t say anything because I thought that’s not what you wanted. I thought you wanted it easy, casual, no feelings.”

“I wanted you,” you said. “I still do.”

He looked like he might break.

“You’re pregnant,” he whispered, stepping closer. “With my baby.”

You nodded, crying now.

“I’m gonna take care of you.”

“What?”

His hand cradled your stomach even though there was no bump yet. His other hand slid around your back, pulled you into his chest.

“I’m gonna take care of both of you,” he said, voice thick. “But first I’m gonna fuck you like I should’ve done the last time.”

And that was that.

He got you back to his hotel room so fast you barely remembered how you got there. You were crying. He was shaking. The second the door shut, he shoved you up against it and kissed you like he hadn’t had air in weeks.

“Mine,” he growled against your mouth. “Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasped.

He dropped to his knees, pushed your dress up, dragged your panties down and buried his face in your pussy like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

You moaned, hips bucking, hand in his curls.

“Gonna eat this pregnant pussy every fucking night,” he muttered, licking up your slit. “Can’t believe it’s mine. Look how wet you are for me.”

You came fast. Twice. Barely recovered before he was lifting you up into his arms and carrying you to the bed.

“Need to feel you,” he panted, cock leaking against your thigh. “Need to fuck you raw. Need to see you take it again.”

You didn’t even answer. Just opened your legs.

He pushed in slow, groaning, head dropping onto your shoulder.

“So fucking tight,” he whispered. “Like you were made for me.”

You cried out, clinging to him, every nerve in your body lit up.

He fucked you hard. Deep. Thrusts steady, controlled, angry in the way he kept muttering things like “mine” and “no one else gets this” and “gonna fuck you so good you forget that other guy’s name.”

You came again with his hand on your throat, tears down your cheeks, pussy clenching so hard he nearly came too fast.

“Say it,” he panted. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you sobbed.

“You’re having my baby.”

“Yes-fuck-yes.”

“I’m gonna come inside you again.”

You cried out, legs shaking, nails digging into his back.

“Gonna fill you up again, fuck-gonna keep doing it until you’re so full you’ll never forget it.”

And he did. He came deep, hips pressed flush to yours, cock pulsing inside you until it spilled out around him.

Then he pulled out. And went back in with his mouth.

“Taste so good together,” he groaned, licking your swollen cunt, slurping your combined mess like he was starving. “Gonna do this every night. Gonna worship you.”

You were shaking. Sobbing. Fucked senseless.

He kissed your inner thighs. Your hips. Your belly.

And when you curled up into his chest after he finally stopped, he held you tighter than he ever had before.

“I’m gonna be there,” he whispered, voice low and soft now. “For everything. Appointments. Cravings. Morning sickness. All of it.”

You looked up at him, eyes still wet.

“Really?”

“I love you,” he said, wiping your cheeks. “You’re carrying my baby. You really think I’m letting you go again?”

And just like that... You weren’t afraid anymore.