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[natlovesls2]

Your Man II Daniel Ricciardo x Reader ⓈⒽ

SUMMARY: Your country-loving boyfriend loves to serenade you with his favorite songs more often than not...today is one of those days where he just goes the little extra mile.

WARNINGS: almost smut but mostly fluff

A/N: I'm having a block with writing smut but I was listening to my country playlist and this song came on which inspired me to write this. I also really enjoy writing stories along with songs so if you enjoyed please let me know cause I have a list of songs I've been wanting to write a story with.

You sat in your home back in Australia, having stayed back at the ranch this time you sat peacefully in the living room admiring the way the darkness began to cover the vast land Daniel had purchased with time.

The quiet times you had were few after falling in love with a man like Daniel Ricciardo who was all loud and energetic 100% of the time although you wouldn't complain since there was never a dull day around you.

It almost felt wrong sitting in silence for so long and being able to read more than a few pages of your book without being interrupted by a loud cry of attention or simply your man jumping on you for some cuddles.

Baby, lock the door and turn the lights down low And put some music on that's soft and slow Baby, we ain't got no place to go I hope you understand

You yelped in fear as the speaker system around the house blasted the song. You looked around your heart beating out of your chest trying to figure out what was going on.

I've been thinking 'bout this all day long Never felt a feeling quite this strong

You placed a hand to your chest in relief as you saw your boyfriend walk through the front door singing along, a proud smirk on his face as he approached you.

You simply began laughing too used to your boyfriend's antics and serenades and despite knowing he should've been back in a few days it didn't surprise you that he found a way to get back to you earlier.

Daniel approached you on the couch leaning his body over you as he sang the next words.

I can't believe how much it turns me on Just to be your man

Your smile was wider than ever, a common occurrence around him as he closed the gap locking his lips with yours.

There's no hurry, don't you worry We can take our time

Daniel missed signing the last 2 lines but after picking you up in his arms, resting his hands on your ass while you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and legs around his waist he didn't dare to miss the next.

Come a little closer, let's go over What I had in mind

"Ooo and what was that?" You smiled down at your boyfriend brushing your nose with his.

Baby, lock the door and turn the lights down low And put some music on that's soft and slow

He answered along with the song making you laugh again as he carried you towards your room.

Baby, we ain't got no place to go I hope you understand

He wiggled his eyebrows with the last few lines as you bit your lip in excitement. Happiness radiated off you both.

You arrived in your bedroom, the music still clear as ever as your boyfriend had done an incredible job at putting a speaker in every single room in this house, music being a huge part of his personality.

He laid you down on your bed as he hovered over you.

I've been thinking 'bout this all day long Never felt a feeling quite this strong

He kissed your neck lovingly.

I can't believe how much it turns me on Just to be your man

He sang this time more quietly to your ear, making you whine in anticipation as the familiar tingles spread across your entire body.

He kissed you again this time more deeply as he let his hands roam your body. Although they came to cup your face.

Ain't nobody ever love nobody The way that I love you We're alone now You don't know how long I've wanted to

His smile was as bright as yours.

"I love you." You whispered to him letting him sing to you.

Lock the door and turn the lights down low And put some music on that's soft and slow Baby, we ain't got no place to go I hope you understand

He took your (his) shirt off you gently as he continued singing, but missed a few words as he began kissing down your chest, leaving a trail down your body. He sat up quickly stripping his own shirt off himself and letting you admire his body.

I've been thinking 'bout this all day long Never felt a feeling that was quite this strong I can't believe how much it turns me on Just to be your man

He was able to sing along as he stripped his jeans off, followed by his boxers. You were so glad you'd worn nothing under your pajama shorts today as he was able to simply move them to the side and align himself with you.

I can't believe how much it turns me on Just to be your man

He finished singing just as he pushed into you. Ecstasy.

[natlovesls2]

Not a question. But I just read your lando x latina imagine and I want you to know you’re heard and aren’t alone in those experiences growing up Latina.

It's weird to say it feels reassuring to know that this is a shared experience, but it feels comforting to know other people understand the feeling. I guess it's because the experience can feel isolating if you live in a predominantly white town with light-skinned/white-passing family members– who, themselves, bullied you when you were younger. So, if anyone has experienced this and has never had anyone to talk to, I am definitely here ‎♡‧₊˚

[natlovesls2]

Why Me?

Lando x Latina!Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: 18+, brief mentions of razors (in a hair removal way and self harm way), mentions of blood once or twice, bullying, swearing (maybe), angst to fluff, no use of y/n

*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 1.5k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚summary: You don't feel good enough or your past experiences haunt you

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You stood in front of the mirror, awkwardly rubbing at the brown skin of your arms, pinching at the hair that was beginning to grow back— the prickly feeling, a reminder of the extra steps you had to take to feel slightly attractive. Shaving every bit of body hair has been your dirty secret since your mom allowed you near a razor. The pink plastic always tucked away in some corner of your bathroom, ready to save you from humiliation. You refused to ever let another person see you like that— refused yourself from being bullied or ridiculed ever again.

The memories of those elementary and early middle school days haunted you, taunting you at every moment those memories slipped into your mind. The awful names the children your age had called you stuck like a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe in a busy street— the most pesky type of sticking. It clung and clung, refusing to leave the shoe and its place, leaving behind a tacky feeling that made walking uncomfortable. Those names left that same tacky feeling in your brain that made it impossible to feel comfortable in your skin.

You could still remember the day the boy you liked called you a man. The way he laughed and caused everyone at your table to laugh at you plagued you every day. It crawled into your brain on days when you least wanted it to, reminding you of the innocent childhood love you were denied. The constant whispers and laughter made around you reminded you that you weren’t loved or desired by the people you so desperately wanted to be approved by.

So, as you stood in front of your mirror looking at your sun-deprived, brown, and prickly skin-- you couldn’t help but hate yourself. You hated being the opposite of what everyone wanted. You hated that you were the Latina men wanted when they said they “love Latina women.” You despised the role in the media that women who looked like you had acquired— the maid. It tired you beyond belief to see other brown Latinas be portrayed as such as if you had no other value to society. It felt as if your skin was anything other than the protector it was meant to be. It felt more like a target— a target that yelled: berate me and make me feel like shit. And if your own ethnicity saw your skin as less than others, then what was there to expect from others? But of course, you hadn't always felt like that-- in fact, you had once loved the way you looked.

You sighed, turning the knobs of the shower on, letting it warm a bit before getting into it. You let the warm water hit your body, relaxing your thoughts for a while. The self-hatred and unpleasant memories wash away with the soap. The untouched razor in the corner of the shower finally caught your attention, bringing back everything that had just passed. And as you shakily picked up the razor, you wished you had been “blessed” with lighter skin that came with that hard-to-see body hair. You swiped the razor up and down your arms, cutting away your arm hair and, with it, washing away your shame.

The sudden knock at the door startles you back to reality, though you were sure you were out of it to begin with. “You okay in there? You’ve been in there for quite a while; I’m starting to worry,” your boyfriend yelled through the locked wooden door of the bathroom. The relationship had started two years ago and was everything your younger self had idolized and wished for. 

“I’m fine,” you yelled back, quickly finishing your shower, wrapping a towel around your body, and opening the door.

He smiled at you, wrapping his arms around your waist, swaying you around. “You look beautiful,” he leaned down to press a quick kiss to your lips, resting his forehead against yours. He was the beautiful one in the relationship that was everyone’s opinion— including your own. Everyone online made it clear that Lando was out of your league, and you believed every word. It didn’t matter how much he told you that he loved you and that he thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world.

“What’s wrong, love?” He whispers, rubbing his nose against your own, giving you another quick kiss before pulling away completely. He looked at you attentively, analyzing your facial and body expression.

“Why me?” You asked, voice cracking as you attempted to hold back the tears that had snuck up on you. “Why would you want to be with me?”

Lando reached out to gently caress your cheek, wiping away the tears that managed to escape you, “Why not? Why wouldn’t I choose you?”

“Look at me! I’m nothing like the ideal woman, at least not one that someone like you would want!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He scoffed, shaking his head and pulling you closer. 

“It means that you deserve someone who looks like they just walked off a runway show! Stop laughing, Lando, I’m being serious right now,” you push him away, smacking his shoulder out of frustration, stepping back as he outstretched his arms to, once again, wrap them around your body. 

“Come on, there’s no way you’re actually being serious. You know why I love you.”

“It’s hard to know when no one else understands it.”

“It’s not for them to understand! We’ve talked about this, and what did you tell me? You promised that you wouldn’t pay attention to what people say,” he ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his face. 

Of course, you remembered the promise and the million other similar promises. It was easy to make those promises but incredibly hard to keep them– especially when his fans constantly reminded you of your flaws and misfortunes. 

“Sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you. Just get dressed; I’ll wait for you in the living room,” he leaned forward slightly to give you another kiss but hesitated and decided against it. 

"I love you," he said quietly, closing the bedroom door as he walked out, once again leaving you with your thoughts. 

A feeling of nausea settles in the twisting pit of your stomach as you dress into the outfit you had chosen before your shower: a green dress that stops a few inches above your knees with a thin white cardigan. Slowly, you walked out of your shared bedroom, watching as Lando's eyes lit up as soon as he saw you– giving you that toothy smile he always gave you when he was especially happy. The type of smile that always made you feel special and eased your worries, even if it was just temporary. You couldn't help but smile back at him, giving him the same wide smile. "Stop it, you're giving me butterflies," you laugh at the situation; it was strange that he could make you feel so loved with something as simple as a smile.

"Maybe that was the plan... you look beautiful– you always do." He always knew the right things to say and when to say them. You always liked that about him; Lando was confident, and that made him reliable. He knew what he wanted; sure, he didn't have his whole life figured out, but when things went wrong, his confidence made it seem as if plan B was always meant to be plan A. You suppose this is why you had fallen for him so quickly. His ability to fix things that were broken and had gone wrong.

"I love you," You quickly said, wrapping your arms around him– hugging him as tight and close as you possibly could. 

He pushed against you, holding your shoulders with his hands and smiling, "You love me?"

"Yes, so much. More than I could have ever imagined loving someone."

"I love you too. You're so perfect for me in every way– I mean it. You're so kind to people, even when they aren't kind to you. You care so much about everything, and you're so passionate about it. That's why, that's why I love you," he pulled you back into the hug, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

You knew you would continue to feel uncomfortable in your own skin, and that feeling wouldn't go away for a long time. However, as long as you had Lando by your side, it would be a little less painful. "I'm going to remind you that you are beautiful and that what you see as flaws are the things I love most about you for as long as the universe lets me be by your side," he promised, and you knew he would stay true to that.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Note: this is loosely based on my personal experience so if this isn’t your experience as a Latina, I understand. That being said, everyone deserves love regardless of their skin color, race, or ethnic background. I am extremely sorry if anyone has been told over wise or has been made to feel unloveable. -`♡´-

[natlovesls2]

Project Valentine

Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: no use of y/n, swearing, feels a little rushed

*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 1.1k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚summary: You're lonely and Logan wants to be a good friend

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

"I'm tired of being lonely every year for Valentine's Day," you groan into one of the heart-shaped throw pillows on your couch. You hated Valentine's Day– absolutely despised it. You always sat alone, watching the intoxicatingly cute couples on dates. This would be the fourth year in which you would have no date for Valentine's Day, and if it were up to you, it would be your last (you would destroy the holiday, obviously). It wasn't a choice you had willingly made, but no matter how hard you tried, you always managed to be single during Valentine's Day. 

Logan laughed at your distress, finding your overreaction to being single hilarious, "I'll help you find a date if that will make you happy."

"Oh fuck off, stop laughing at me," you threw the throw pillow at him, laughing as it smacked him in the face. 

"Rude, and I'm not laughing at you. I'm being very serious right now."

"You'd help me find a date?" you asked, sitting up and turning to face him, waiting and expecting him to burst out laughing. Sure, Logan was a great friend, but he never turned down the opportunity to tease or make fun of you. You had expected him to poke fun at the fact that you had once again managed to find yourself without a partner to spend the day with. 

He nodded silently, seemingly lost in his own thoughts, head slightly tilted to the side. His smile widens the more he stares at you, "So, what do you say, can I start Project Valentine?" 

You can't help but wonder how he could possibly help when you've struggled for so long. The uncertainty of whether or not this could negatively impact the structure of your friendship. You often spoke about your romantic relationships with Logan but never went into depth about why they all seemed to fail. You suppose it was fear, fear of commitment, or fear of getting too attached to then be abandoned. That fear also held you back in your friendship, which brings you back to that uncertainty you felt– everything was connected. 

"Stop staring at me like that; do you want my help or not?"

"I do, but– yeah, I want your help."

"Good, now tell me what your type is," he says, standing from his spot across from you to sit beside you on the loveseat. 

"I don't know. I guess I just want a nice guy." 

"A nice guy? Are your standards truly that low? I always thought you would have higher standards."

"They are not low." They truly weren't low, in your opinion. Of course, they were more complex than just a "nice" guy, but you didn't want to seem picky in front of Logan. It was a running joke that you couldn't hold boyfriends because of your high standards and maintenance.  

"Yes, they are," he teased, jokingly shoving you.

"Are not."

"Are too," he reached over– tickling you, and you desperately attempted to push him away, laughing loudly at his actions. 

"Stop it," you say, continuing to laugh– holding onto his shoulders as he finally stills. He looks into your eyes, deep in thought, making you wish you knew what went through his mind. He always seemed to be thinking about something, especially when he's around you– it's something you've noticed as your friendship grew. "What's going through that brain of yours?" you ask, running your hands through his hair. 

"I don't think I can help you..." he whispers, resting his head on your chest.

"I knew this was some sort of joke for you," you shoved him off of your chest, sitting up. 

"This isn't a joke."

"No? Then what is it? Because right now, it feels like you're going to say some bullshit about me never being content in my relationships. And honestly, Logan, I'm not in the mood for this shit. I genuinely wanted your help and was trusting you with this," you angrily rambled, refusing to look at him. It felt as if your blood was boiling; you felt like those cartoon characters with the steam coming out of their ears. You could see his lips moving as he worked up some, in your humble opinion, lame excuse– but the ringing in your ears impeded you from hearing. 

"I love you, okay," Logan said as the ringing in your ears subsided. You froze, staring blankly at him– this had escalated quickly, too quickly. The ringing returned as your heart began to beat a million miles an hour. 

Logan frowned as the silence in the room grew; he sighed looking up at the ceiling and resting his head against the backrest of the love seat. "I'm sorry– please say something; I don't want to ruin our friendship. And I know I'm stupid... god, this was so fucking stupid. I'm sorry, okay?" 

You continued to stare at him, shock evident on your face. It felt impossible to speak, though you had so much to say. From the moment you heard those words, you felt thousands of repressed memories flood your mind. Memories in which you felt things you had thought were inappropriate to feel between friends. Memories that at this moment you wished to share with him. 

He quickly turned to face you again, "Actually, I'm not sorry. I'm tired of pretending that I don't feel this way– tired of hiding my love for you."

You felt as if your body had been possessed by someone else as you grabbed his face and smashed your lips against his. It was a desperate kiss, something you had both been waiting for– rushed and messy. He gently pushed you down, resting you against the couch as he deepened the kiss. You felt your head spin as his hands tangled against your hair, somehow pulling you closer than you already were. "I love you too," you pulled away for a moment– wanting him to know that you reciprocate his feelings. 

"I thought so," he pulled you back into a kiss, seemingly not wanting the moment to end as he slid his hands down to rest on your hips. "I think Project Valentine was a success," he whispered, planting a few kisses on your neck, and smiling down at you. 

You had hated Valentine's Day– absolutely despised it. But as you lay there with Logan, tangled in each other, you couldn't help but love it. You loved everything about it, the cultural meaning of it, and even the intoxicatingly cute couples. You wanted to experience everything about the day you had hated just this morning. You couldn't wait to spend next Valentine's Day with him– and all the Valentine's Days after that.

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

[natlovesls2]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ Happy Valentine's Day! ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

I haven't posted in a while, but I am still working on the Logan fic and a request I have, which will be a Charles fic. I will try to get them posted sometime this week. That being said, I will post a mini Valentine's Day fic later today ᥫ᭡

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 Request something

[natlovesls2]

୨⎯ Very close to finishing the Logan fic. Hopefully, it will be done by Monday. However, the NFL team I root for has a game tomorrow, SO the fate of this fic relies on the outcome of a silly little sports game ⎯୧

[natlovesls2]

do you write for oscar?

ೃ ✦ ✧ ∗ ❥ ҉ Yes, I do ᥫ᭡ᥫ᭡

[natlovesls2]

Can you do a lando x reader

where reader doesn’t want to let go of his hand but she need to open something with both (or whatever you can think of) and she put his hand on top of her boob and something like that ??

Please if you have the time

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆Thank you for requesting⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Link: Hand Warmers

I changed it a bit, hope you still like it <3

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓲𝓽✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

[natlovesls2]

Hand Warmers

Lando x Fem!Reader

*ੈ✩���₊˚warnings: swearing, mentions of boobs and touching them, super short, no use of y/n, I'm American (I think that should be a warning 🤷‍♀️ ), images used are not mine as are from pinterest, possible grammatical errors (its late and I have brain rot from little sleep)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 0.6k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚summary: its cold and Landos hands need to be warmed

.ೃ࿐request: Can you do a lando x reader

where reader doesn’t want to let go of his hand but she need to open something with both (or whatever you can think of) and she put his hand on top of her boob and something like that ??

Please if you have the time

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Note: Feel free to let me know if something is wrong or weird. Also feel free to request something

˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘

Lando had been holding your hand hostage the whole day, refusing to let go despite the inconvenience. As the day progressed, his hold on your hand tightened. It was impossible to escape his hold, even as you ate your lunch, having to beg to be let go to use the bathroom. His only excuse was the freezing temperature, claiming that your hands were warmer than his and you had to help him warm up.

⊹˚₊‧─────────‧₊˚⊹˚₊‧─────────‧₊˚⊹

The cold winter weather had taken over your apartment despite having closed the door immediately after waking in. It was more frigid than the average year, and the abundance of layers did nothing to keep you warm as you lay on the couch cuddled with your boyfriend. “I think we should turn the heater on.”

“I don’t want to get up; this is comfortable, plus your hands are warm,” Lando grumbled into the side of your neck, pulling you closer to himself to prevent you from leaving. 

“Don’t."

“What? I’m not doing anything. We can warm each other up. I don’t want to let you go,” his hold on your hands tightened, placing a few kisses on your neck, snuggling closer to you.

While Lando had always been clingy, more so during the cold winter days, this was a new extreme. His cold hands firmly gripped your own, a continued desperate attempt to keep you from leaving his side. "I promise to come back once the heater is turned on."

"Promise?"

"Pinky promise," you reassure him, feeling his grip loosen, and finally, you break free. You could feel his eyes on you, closely watching as you walked to the heater and turned it on. He was skeptical about the promise you had made. The way his eyes followed your every move proved that. 

"You're taking too long," he complained, voice whiny as he sat up in his spot, grabby hands reaching out in your direction. The slower you walked back to him, the more childlike he became. His pout only increased as he realized you were purposefully taking your time.

"You're being mean," he continued to whine, only stopping when you finally sat next to him again, hands immediately grabbing your own. He briefly let go of your hand to turn on the television, quickly grabbing and kissing them. 

"Don't you think you've held my hand enough?"

"No, I think I've held your hand for too little," he says, slightly pouting again, leaning forward to press a light kiss to your lips. This was always his tactic for getting what he wanted. The constant pouting and occasional kisses were well-known to you. It was almost expected from him, especially when things weren't going exactly the way he wanted them to. 

"Let go, Lando," you said, refusing to fall victim to his ploy– knowing that if you allowed him to get away with this, he would only use it against you. 

"Noooo," he said, voice high and whiny, squeezing your hand tighter, peppering your face with kisses, gently stroking your hands. 

"It's getting warmer in here," you struggle against him, letting out a sigh of relief as he finally lets go of your hands. This was a victory in your eyes, though you knew it would be a short-lived victory– Lando being a very persistent person. 

"I'm still cold," he says after a few minutes, resting his hand on your waist. 

“You’re annoying,” you say, moving his hands under your shirt and placing them on your breasts, shivering at the freezing touch, “You're fucking freezing.”

“Yeah, but I'm definitely getting warmer,” he gently squeezes your boobs, stealing their warmth for himself. 

"At my expense," you say, your body beginning to relax as Lando's hands warmed themselves between your breasts and bra. 

"You're the one who offered," he continues to softly but firmly massage and squeeze them, "I think these might be the best hand warmers."

˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘

[natlovesls2]

Idk if you watched the movie Were the Millers?? But can you do imagine where reader never had a first kiss and charles and lando give her her first kiss ?? Like the scene with Jenn Anniston, will poulter, and Emma roberts ???

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆Thank you for requesting⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

𝓗𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓴: You're Lying, Right?

Lando x Fem!Reader x Charles

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓲𝓽✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

[natlovesls2]

You're Lying, Right?

Lando x Fem!Reader x Charles

*ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: swearing, drinking and mentions of alcohol (might be inaccurate, I don’t drink), format might be weird (this wasn't saving the way I wanted it to),

*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 1k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Summary: Lando and Charles teach you to kiss after you confess that you've never been kissed

.ೃ࿐Request: Idk if you watched the movie Were the Millers?? But can you do imagine where reader never had a first kiss and charles and lando give her her first kiss ?? Like the scene with Jenn Anniston, will poulter, and Emma roberts ???

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙

The three of you had been drinking for whatever reason, and to be completely honest, you couldn’t exactly remember why the bottles of alcohol had been brought out in the first place. However, you knew the drink in your hand was stronger than the stuff you usually drank, but after the horrible few days you had, it was needed. Its surprisingly sweet smell inviting you to take big gulps. The burn as it passed down your throat numbing the thoughts of your busy life and failed dates. You subconsciously continued to fill your glass with the earthy-fruity liquid, one glass after another– silently watching Charles and Lando interact with one another.

"You're awfully quiet," Lando said from beside you, reaching for your drink to fill it with something new, hesitating when he noticed your slight frown. 

"She had a date yesterday; I can only assume it went horribly," Charles added, moving from his spot to lean against the armrest of the sofa. 

Lando hummed at the newfound information, disapprovingly shaking his head, deciding you had had enough to drink– knowing another glass would not help alleviate whatever pain you felt. “Don't tell me you're attempting to drown your sorrows with liquor. What even happened on this date of yours?"

"The date itself wasn't the worst; it was actually the best I've had in a while– but when the date ended, he expected a kiss. And I know I have to have my first kiss at some point, but I didn't want to disappoint him."

They stared at you for a long time, letting silence settle in the room– you were suddenly aware of the increased warmth. Regret and embarrassment immediately fill your body, urging you to want to vomit up everything you had been drinking. Of course, you had to have the loosest fucking lips known to man when drunk. Actually, you couldn't fully blame the alcohol; the amount you had consumed only slightly gave you a buzzing feeling– enough to feel tipsy. 

“You’re lying, right? I mean, you have to be joking, no?” Lando's small laughter stopped as he noticed your humorless demeanor and sick-looking face– awkwardly clearing his throat, body shifting at Charles's glaring gaze. 

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about. Everyone experiences life differently; it just so happens to be that you haven't had your first kiss," Charles nodded in your direction, still glaring at Lando– urging him to add to what he said, hoping to ease your embarrassment. 

"Yeah, absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. I mean, some people find that sweet."

"Obviously, my date didn't find it sweet... I'm surprised he didn't laugh in my face. Honestly, it fucking pathetic," you let out a dry laugh, picking at the strings of your ripped jeans. You sighed, looking up in time to notice Lando nudging Charles and nodding in your direction. He mouths something to Lando, which you can't quite make out; you'd never been good at reading lips or people. Lando opened and closed his lips a few times as if having a struggle with himself– unsure if he should say something or let Charles take control of the situation. 

"We could always teach you how to kiss," he finally says, watching your face for any sort of reaction, noticing the way your eyes widen at the nonchalantness of his words. "–only if you want to, of course," he quickly adds, sensing your hesitation and overall embarrassment over the situation. 

You feel the world around you slow down, the noise slowly dissipating– replaced by a low ringing sound you can't quite place. You barely notice yourself nodding, nervously running your hands down the front of your jeans, attempting to get rid of the clammy feeling– which only increased at the soft touch of Lando's hand on your cheek. "It's weird if you keep your eyes open," he whispered, holding back a laugh, not wanting to make you any more embarrassed than you already were. You closed your eyes and swallowed the little saliva you had– an attempt to calm yourself, finding your mouth extremely dry. Your heart quicked at this; what if the kiss was too dry? The desire to vomit returned and your throat tightened itself as a final attempt to hold everything down.

 Lando's hand gently caressed your cheek, trailing down to your jaw, pulling you in closer– his warm breath falling against your skin. His lips hovered over your own for a while before they finally connected in an awkwardly stiff kiss. "It wasn't bad," he reassured you, smiling when he noticed the way your eyes nervously bounced around the room– avoiding his own. "Just relax a bit, don't be too stiff." 

He leaned forward again, soft lips moving against your own; in complete contrast to the first kiss, this one was looser– relaxed and something you could see yourself enjoying despite the foreign feeling. His hand moved up to tangle itself in your hair, his tongue lightly running against your bottom lip. You weren't sure if it was the alcohol that finally reached your senses helping you relax, but whatever it was that possessed you to open your lips was definitely on your side. The sweetness of your past drinks mixed with the bitterness of whatever he had been drinking. "See, I told you you just needed to loosen up." 

"I don't know... I feel like you're only being nice about it."

"I'll tell you the truth; let's see what Lando has taught you– or if he taught you well," Charles says, his voice reminding you that he had been there watching the whole interaction, sitting beside you on the other side of the sofa. 

His warm hand pulls you towards him, connecting his lips against yours in a confident kiss. While Lando's kiss had felt firm and loose– slightly messy, this was a lot more calculated. He pulled you closer, hands moving to gently grip the hair at the nape of your neck. "You can definitely impress your next date."

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙

[natlovesls2]

⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ Heres a random dog and the cute kitten I found in my backyard

did you keep the kitten??????

ੈ✩‧₊˚ I wish I could have, but (without dumping) I was struggling with my mental health at the time. I knew I wouldn't be able to fully care for it as I was neglecting my own health at the time. Fortunately, my older brother had been wanting a cat, and he was able to take him in.

[natlovesls2]

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: ̗̀➛ age: 20

: ̗̀➛ pronouns: she/ her/ hers

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: ̗̀➛ obsessions: F1, Football, MLS, Jack Johnson, IndyCar, Bridgerton

[natlovesls2]

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·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙

₊˚ʚ ➼➻❥ Who I write for

: ̗̀➛ Almost everyone currently on the grid

➺ especially:

◌᰷ Max

◌᰷ Lando

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᰷ Charles

᰷ Pato O'Ward

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: ̗̀➛ Bridgerton

➺ Note: Don't see your fav drivers name? Don't worry! Still send in your request

·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙

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➺ fluff, angst, open to write social media Au's, plus size!reader, Au's (will add more)

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₊˚ʚ ➼➻❥ What I won't write

➺ smut (might be open to it later), incest/ stepcest, anything that involves sexual harassment or physical abuse

·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ I am a slow updater and a student, so please be patient. If you have sent a request, I have probably already seen it and have put it on a to-do list. Thank you ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

[natlovesls2]

can we have a pt.2 of rwylm please🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

ᰔᩚ I might make a pt.2, just because the ending isn't what I originally wanted. However, I don't know if that would be soon, as I am currently working on 3 other fics. But I am definitely considering it. ᰔᩚ

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ Heres a random dog and the cute kitten I found in my backyard

[natlovesls2]

Right Where You Left Me

Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

Warning: no use of y/n, swearing, some angst, all images used are not mine and are from pinterest, possible grammatical errors, mentions of blood once or twice, randomly changes pov, brief mention of mental illness (and the slight misunderstanding it/ disregarding it), I'm American (I think that should be a warning 🤷‍♀️ ), a little rushed, there might be more that I missed, feel free to correct me

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: Lando living in the past or literally Taylor Swifts RWYLM

Quick note: italics are flashbacks and normal font is present time

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Lando sat on the bar stool at the restaurant you both had frequented during the relationship, a place of sentimental value. He stared at the table where it had all happened– where your relationship had started and where it had ended. The table next to the window that overlooked the bustling streets, where on that rainy day he had mustered all his courage and asked you to be his girlfriend. The small table that barely fit both of your food and was often uncomfortable to fit at. The table with the mix-match chairs because the original were old and Lando had broken one of the chairs on your first date. The same table that he continued to seek out despite its lack of hope. 

He looked up from his menu and stared at you, admiring how your face filled with concentration and indecision despite frequently eating there. You would sit there staring at the menu for minutes, occasionally asking for his opinion on what to order, asking the waitress for more time when she approached to take your order. It was the same routine every time the two of you went out, he knew you would eventually sigh and order some type of pasta. 

“Okay, okay– I’ll just get the soup of the day,” you said, catching him off guard. He quickly looked up from his own menu, brows furrowed in confusion at your choice of food. 

“Soup?” he asked, tilting his head as he asked, watching as you nodded and looked at the window being hit by a steady stream of rain. 

“It’s cold outside,” you said with a shrug and a soft smile that reminded Lando of all the reasons he had fallen for you. He watched as you smiled at the elderly couple beside you and the way you quickly stood up to help the man when he dropped his silverware. 

“How long have you been married for?” you asked the couple as you placed the silverwave back on their table. The dinner went on with you occasionally making conversation with the elderly couple, smiling widely at them. You would turn to Lando a few times, whispering about wanting to be exactly like them when you both got older. 

“Marry her, don’t let her get away,” the older man said to Lando, patting him on the back as he and his wife left, causing Lando to chuckle.

“He’s not wrong… I shouldn’t let you go,” he said, nervously playing with the food on his plate. There was silence– not an awkward unmanageable silence but the thoughtful, yet comforting type. He glanced up from the table, noticing your small smile and it gave him enough courage to finally ask; “Well, I guess what I’m trying to say… umm– will you be my girlfriend?” he whispered, quickly averting his gaze back to his plate. 

“If you’re not joking right now, I would love to be your girlfriend.”

The couple that approached the table and sat there brought him back to his senses, forcing him to turn away, reminding him that the table and its memories no longer belonged to him. The table had been snatched from him, you had taken it and destroyed every last bit of it. Using its worn wood to make a boat which you had used to sail away from his life– metaphorically of course. 

He supposes he doesn’t know the exact point in which the relationship started to deteriorate. One moment you both seemed to be hopelessly in love with one another, and the next you were distancing yourself from Lando and your shared friendships– playing it off as being busy focused on your work and studies. He could still somehow vividly remember the day you left– still feeling the weight of the night suffocating him.

“Let’s just go and have dinner, if you still feel bad we could leave early,” Lando whispered as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his head against your back. 

The drive to the restaurant was silent– the type of silence that made anyone feel uneasy. The type of silence that would push you to nervously pick at the skin around your nails until it bled. 

“Do you want me to order for you?” Lando asked, looking up from his menu to see you staring down at your hands as you continued to quickly and nervously pick at your skin. “Hey are you okay?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I’m fine– you wouldn’t mind ordering for me would you?” you asked him, your voice sounding distant and void of emotion as you finally noticed the small pricks of blood– carelessly wiping it off on your jeans.

“I don’t mind at all… are you sure you’re okay?”

“I think we should break up,” you impulsively said, nervously running your hands along your thighs in order to stop the urge to continue to pick at your skin.

“If this is because of your… issues then we can work through it together. You don't have to struggle alone,” he whispered, desperately attempting to save the relationship, which he thought was stronger than ever. 

“That's not what this is about, Lando–”

“Then what is it? Because I don't see why we have to break up. I love you and I thought you felt the same way.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Then what do you expect me to do? I’m not going to sit back and watch you destroy this because you’re going through a mood” he reaches over the table to grab your hands in his own, as an attempt to calm you. 

“I don’t… I don’t find joy in this anymore– it has nothing to do with my mental health. We aren’t the people we were when we first got together, Lando. I want more than this– I know I want more than this” you responded, moving your hands out of his own.

“And I can’t give you more?”

“I’m sorry” you abruptly stood from your chair, walking out of the restaurant. Lando stayed there for what felt like an eternity, body frozen with shock and slight embarrassment. 

He felt the eyes of their waiter, who you had become rather close with over the years, sympathetic eyes that made contact with his own as he attempted to keep himself together. 

“Haven’t seen you here in a while, you want the usual or something new?” Alex, the waiter who had witnessed the whole relationship, asked. 

“You still remember my order?”

“Of course I do,” Alex let out a small laugh, “You and… you practically lived here before you stopped coming.”

“Yeah, I guess I did. I’ll take the usual then” Lando turned to look at the table once more, envying the happy couple that now claimed the weathered table as their own. 

“I don't mean to overstep but I’ve seen her come with some guy. I think it's time for you to move on– I mean, clearly she has”

Lando nodded, slowly turning away from the table watching as Alex sadly smiled at him before walking towards the kitchen. You had been here with another man– moved on, as Alex had put it. He struggled to look straight ahead, the table in some weird way had a sort of magnetic pull on him. It urged him to take one final look at it– it wanted to taunt him with what ifs and happy painful memories. The sound of cheers finally pushed him to turn towards the table once more. Watching as the couple that sat there promised to marry one another– the table had issued one final blow. A reminder to Lando that you would never want that with him, he would never be able to promise himself to you at that damned table– it now belonged to someone else.

 He supposed it never really belonged to him to begin with. He had been stupid to think that a table would be the glue that would forever hold your relationship together. Of course, he would be lying if he said he didn't still love you or yearn for your affection. If you ever thought you were wrong about your decision that night, he would take you back in an instant. But as he sat there in the suffocatingly happy atmosphere, he couldn't help but think that perhaps the table wasn’t as important as he had thought it to be. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to move on– to start over.

“Hey,” said a voice from beside him. 

He couldn’t help the smile that came to his face as he turned to look at the source of the soft voice, “Hey.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。