rebelliousneferut

[rebelliousneferut]

can u make a fic where low-key high-key he has a girlfriend who’s obsessed with mangoes and she’s pregnant and he gets her a basket with mango themed shit coz yk how people do like babies are the size of “this fruit/veg” but make it mangoes coz yes why not thanks broski 🥶

MANGO NECTAR

warnings: none! :)

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

The air was warm, a faint, almost undetectable breeze drifting through the bedroom, mixed with the sound of soft breathing, and the light tinkling of Y/n - Lando’s wife - in the bathroom.

He was lying in bed, the duvet draped lazily over his legs and stomach, his phone propped in one hand, the other slung behind his head. 

“Babe, you done yet?” he called, dragging his eyes from his phone screen for just a second, his finger hovering over it. 

“Just a sec,” she called back, placing her night cream back into the cupboard, and shutting it with a soft‘click’. 

Lando’s favourite time of day with his wife was night time, not for the obvious (and dirty) reason, but the comfort of it. 

The way her voice went all soft and dreamy, snuggled in her little night gowns with their wispy lace and whatnot. 

He loved it. He loved her. 

Lando hummed in response, moving his eyes from the soft yellow glow of the bathroom door, and back to his phone. 

A sigh fell from his lips, not for any particular reason, sliding his finger up the screen. 

‘Top ten reasons why you should buy-‘

He had enough things already.

‘The top 3 best McLarens to invest in-‘

He probably had them already. 

‘Why Lando Norris will never be a Formula One WDC-‘

Rude?

Lando rolled his eyes, dragging his finger across his screen once more, like an automatic switch.

‘My girlfriend is pregnant and-‘ 

Wait. He wasn’t 100% sure what made him not scroll, watching on as a man came onto screen, a woven basket with an assortment of perfumes, body scrubs, sweets and foods laid neatly inside. 

“At her current stage, her baby would be the size of an avocado,” the man in the video held up a real avocado, “and here’s what I’m doing for her,” 

He had to do it. 

Signing, he turned off his phone and placed it on the bedside table, before he rolled back onto his back, staring at the ceiling, 

Tomorrow, his plan would begin. 

“Hi baby,” 

Y/n’s voice pulled him from his thoughts as she walked out of the bathroom, the faint yellow light almost giving her a goddess-like glow.

Her hair was wet, droplets splayed across his bare arms and shoulders, the rest of her body wrapped enticingly beneath her towel. 

Still, beneath the fluffy material, the faint bump was present, if you looked close enough. 

Lando thought it made Y/n look like the most beautiful girl in the world. He was right. 

His eyes followed the girl as she moved to her vanity, picking up her hair brush from the side, rakingg it through her hair softly. 

Lando sat up, resting his chin on his hand as he stared, watching how graceful she looked, like a renaissance painting, right there. 

Her eyes found Lando’e in the mirror, a faint brush creeping up to the apples of her cheeks, her teeth coming to sink into the cushion of her lower lip. 

He smiled back, moving the duvet off of his legs as he stood up, walking silently to her chair. 

No words were spoken as he laced his fingers with hers, taking the brush from her grasp, and leaning down to press a soft, chaste kiss to her cheek. 

Y/n’s lashes fluttered as her eyes closed, the feeling of his fingers running through her hair, brushing softly.

It felt like bliss. 

And tomorrow, Lando’s plan would begin. 

He woke up before Y/n, turning his head silently to look at her, the soft rise and fall of her chest, the baby bump hidden beneath one of his old t-shirts. 

Gorgeous.

He was careful not to wake her as he slipped out of bed, running his hands through his messy morning hair, and scribbling across a note. 

Had to pop out to grab some snacks, back later! Love you, gorgeous xxx

It was vague, but not too vague, and he really was going to the store anyways. 

He shut the front door as quietly as he could, sliding into the front seat of his car, a hoodie thrown over his body with some joggers. 

He had the hood pulled up too, the last thing he wanted was to attract attention. 

His fingers drummed on the steering wheel as he slowed at a red light, eyes scanning the round. This was oddly….exciting. 

“Ah- fuck,” he muttered, realising he’d forgotten one key thing - what fruit/vegetable size the baby was. 

Rolling his eyes at his own stupidity, he took out his phone, eyes flickering to the lights every few minutes as he typed into the search bar. 

19 weeks pregnant - a mango. 

Lando smiled, sliding the device back into his pocket - that was a coincidence. 

Y/n loved mangoes, she always raved on about mango smoothies, mango fruit bowls, mango this, mango that, and this was Lando’s perfect chance. 

He walked into the store, a basket in his hand, gaze low as he walked past some old ladies, no clear plan in his mind. 

“Face masks,” he muttered to himself, walking to the self-care aisle, looking through the various flavours. 

Avocado, blueberry, mixed berries, pineapple, aloe vera, ginger- wait, that was a thing?  

Lando put the little packet down, mentally scolding himself for getting distracted, before his gaze finally landed on it - the little yellow packet. Bingo. 

How many would she need, though? 

“Fuck it,” he muttered, grabbing four and thrusting it into his basket. 

His eyes scanned the countless aisles as he walked down, grabbing a big woven basket to place all his goodies in, that would be helpful. 

Lip balm - mango flavoured. 

Face masks - mango flavoured.

Gum - mango flavoured. 

Candies - mango flavoured. 

He had an assortment of things, ranging from candles, to jewellery even, all the same, gorgeous orangey-yellow shade that mangoes were. 

Finally, he carried the now very heavy basket to the counter, placing it on the side as the lady took it from him, scanning the first item. 

“I’m guessing your girlfriend likes mangoes,” the woman chuckled, staring at the assortment of various beauty products, they certainly weren’t for him. 

Lando chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Wife,” he corrected as the woman raised her brows, a smile on her face, “and yeah, she’s pregnant. Just getting…some stuff together for her,” 

“Well,” the woman smiled, “you’re a good one for doing all this for her,” she waved at the items, bagging it all up for him as he nodded. 

Lando didn’t know her, yet the compliment felt…oddly personal.

With a final nod, he took the bags, one in each hand, and walked back towards his car, placing them neatly in the boot.

He slipped his phone from his pocket as he walked to the drivers side, peering at the time. 11:36am. Y/n would be awake by now. 

That, and he had a message from her too, reading: hi baby, got your message! be back soon, love youuuuu x 

Lando smiled to himself, replying with a red heart, stuffing his phone back into his pocket - every word from Y/n was like a constant reminder of why he’d married her. 

The drive back home was calming, yet nervous. 

Getting his ‘loot’ past Y/n’s eagle eyes would be hard, but he had to do it. 

The car rolled into the driveway, the gravel crunching underneath the tyres as he pulls to a stop, turning the engine off. 

Without a word, Lando exited the car, taking the house keys out, and turning them into the lock, grabbing the two bags. 

And, as predicted, Y/n was on the scene immediately. 

“Hi baby,” he wrapped his arms round her, purposefully slinging the bags round her bag as he kissed her, a chaste kiss, gently pressing against her lips.

She hummed into the kiss, pulling away and resting her head onto his chest, his heart softly thumping beneath her ear. 

“What’d you get?” she mumbled as Lando transferred the bags to one hand, using the other to brush her hair softly from her face. 

“Snacks,” he mumbled, walking her backwards to the kitchen, keeping her gaze on him as he nudged the two bags behind the counter, and producing two packets of Kinder bars. 

They were his diversion to keep her from seeing what he’d actually gone out to bought, unwrapping one of the bars. 

“Got a date with some of the girls,” Y/n broke off a square of the chocolate, placing it onto her tongue with a content sigh. 

“Yeah? Leavin’ me just when I came back,” he clutched his chest in mock hurt, though mentally, he was over the moon. 

He had time to sort everything out, and make sure he had the basket ready for when she came back. 

Perfect. 

“Haven’t seen them for ages,” Y/n said, adjusting the old t-shirt she was still in as Lando sighed - again, fake.

“If you must,” he teased, handing her the last square and chucking the rest of the bars into the snack cupboard. 

“Quit annoying me!” Y/n giggled, looking at Lando through the mirror her vanity. 

He’d been pulling faces at her through the reflection as she did her make-up, her thick brush poised on her cheekbones, dusted in a light coating of pink powder.

“I’m not,” he gave her a wicked grin, idly playing with the bed sheets beside his legs, twisting and tugging gently.

The girl rolled her eyes, going back to fixing her make up, one hand running through her hair as she stared at herself, giving the full look a once over.

“How do I look?” she asked anxiously, turning to face her husband, who had been sitting on the edge of the bed, staring.

“You look gorgeous baby,” Lando stood up, taking her in from where he stood.

She looked like a damn queen.

The dress she wore looked amazing, complimenting all her features whilst also keeping a summer-y type of look.

The dress was long, to her knees, with straps on her shoulder, a little ribbon on the back of her head to compliment it.

“So gorgeous…” he moved to stand behind her, his hands coming to her hair, gently guiding it all over one shoulder so he could press a kiss to her shoulder.

His hands were on her bare skin, moving the strap of her dress lower down her shoulder, lips trailing across her supple flesh.

“You’re gonna distract me,” she giggled, the sound sweet and melodic as Lando smiled into her neck, pressing another kiss to her pulse point.

“Could always cancel on them,” he whispered, hands coming to her waist, swaying with her softly, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“No, silly!” she swatted his arm with another one of her sweet laughs.

“I can’t,” she said, “I promised them I’d come, and you can’t keep me here forever!”

���Mmm…don’t think you’ll be escaping me anytime soon,” he tightened his grip on her waist purposefully as she squealed, ducking down to wriggle free.

“Lando-! Stop, that tickles!”

“Cancel your plans, sweetie, gonna keep you here forever!”

“Lando!”

Finally, she broke free, wriggling free of her husband’s grasp, panting as she leaned against the bed.

“You almost ruined my outfit!” she complained, running a hand through her hair to check the bow was still there, and thankfully, it was.

“Oh shush,” Lando tugged on a strand of her hair playfully, before placing his hands on the edge of the cabinet and pulling his weight up to sit on the edge.

Even with her cheeks flushed red and hair only slightly messy, she gorgeous. 

And that bump…

Her little huff brought him back as he smiled, watching her adjust the bow (that wasn’t even lopsided). 

“I’m gonna go now,” she said, her frown melting as she moved between his legs, that sweet bashful smile returning to her face, 

Lando loved how she still went shy, even though they’d been married for 2 years, and had been dating long before. 

“Best get goin’ before I don’t let you leave,” he mumbled, pulling her into a kiss, a little deeper than the chaste ones he’d given her moments before. 

“Lando,” Y/n giggled, her voice half laughing, half laced with warning as she pulled back. 

“Alright, alright,” he said, reluctantly pulling away from her sweet embrace, “go on then,” he swatted her away. 

The girl rolled her eyes, taking her purse from the vanity and thrusting her phone in. 

“Call me when you’re close to home,” Lando said, giving her backside a quick tap as she squealed, cheeks red again, rushing forward. 

“Off with you then!”

“I’m going!” 

Lando releases a breath he hadn’t even known he’d been holding as the door shut with a ‘click’ behind his wife. 

Without a second to spare, he moved off of the cabinet, leaning towards the window to check she hadn’t come back for anything. 

She hadn’t. 

Good.

He rushed down the stairs, taking two at a time, as he came to the kitchen, thrusting the cabinet open, where all his loot lay, ready to be presented to her neatly. 

He found himself sat on the bed, the empty woven basket beside him as he watched the video for what felt like the hundredth time. 

Surely it was just a case of put everything in the basket, but no - Lando wanted perfection. 

And that, usually, was Y/n’s job. 

His tongue poked slightly from between his teeth as he attempted to balance a few face masks in a cup - only for them to collapse. 

In the end, he relented, forgetting the whole intricate details and focusing on it looking somewhat nice. 

And it did.

The little mug had the lip balm, some face masks, sweets, a few pens, a pencil and an eraser tucked neatly in it. 

It sat in front of a warm yellow cushion, mimicking the tropical colouring of mangoes, along with a little notebook, some more stationary. 

And finally, Lando took the little yellow card, matching rye setting already, and scribbled across it in his neatest handwriting, with the special pen he used for special people on his life. 

To my dearest, loveliest wife, 

I’m so proud you’re the one who’s carrying my child, I couldn’t wish for anyone else other than you. I love you more than you could ever know. You’re pretty, kind, gentle and sweet. Sweet as a mango? ;)

Your loving (and obsessed) husband, 

Lando xxxx

He held up the card to the light, the sun filling it in from the back, casting golden rays as it sat.

It was perfect. 

Perfect for his perfect girl.

Just as he took the matching satin ribbon into his handmade tying it around the basket with a gorgeous bow, he heard the all too familiar sound of Y/n’s laughter outside. 

She was back. 

Lando stood up from the bed, his door catching on the sheets, which he managed to save, taking the scissors and ribbon and stashing it into his drawer. 

The basket, he handled with much more care, sliding it under the bed, and standing up, as the front door crept open.

He was going to do it right now.

Lando held his breath as he heard Y/n’e tentative footsteps downstairs, creeping down the hallway, calling his name. 

“Baby?” 

He said nothing - she’d come upstairs soon enough. 

Looking down, he cursed himself for forgetting to put on something nice instead of his joggers and a hoodie, but he didn’t have time to change now. 

Her footsteps moved up the stairs, thumping softly on the carpeted wooden slabs.

How the hell did he make this look casual?

“Lando,” she walked into the room, using his name, a little frown creasing her perfect face, “I was calling for you,”

“Sorry baby,” he stood up, tugging on the end of his hoodie, swallowing a lump in his throat as he stood up, leaning in for a kiss.

She huffed, but relented, allowing the chaste kiss as he squeezed her waist.

“What were you doing?” she asked, a little suspicious at why his cheeks were bright red, hair a little messy from when he ran his hand through it when he was stressed.

“Nothin’,” Lando shrugged it off, sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling the girl onto his lap.

“Lando-,”

“Baby,” he silenced her with one of his looks, the kinda look she knew he used when he was being truthful.

His eyes never broke with hers as he held her on his lap, looking up at her, his lips coming to press a kiss to where her heart would be.

It was a sweet gesture, one they’d created as a special kind of meaning.

His lips hovered over her dress, pressing a gentle kiss softly.

It was like a silent promise, a silent ‘I love you’.

“I got you a gift,” Lando said, adjusting Y/n on his knee so she was now eye level with him.

“A gift?” she raised a brow, moving to lean back, “is it a special day? Did I forget-?”

Lando chuckled, silencing her playfully with his finger on her lip.

“Can a man not get his girl a gift?” he smiled, capturing her lips in yet another kiss as she smiled bashfully.

“Well…”

She’d always been a bit awkward about receiving gifts, it was in her personality, especially when she didn’t have anything to give back.

Lando loved that about her too.

She was always grateful.

With a deep breath, Lando lifted her onto the bed, seating her down so he could walk round, reaching under it, as she watched with curious eyes.

She was excited, he could tell.

He lifted the basket, a little heavy from the masses of gifts all piled in, gently walking it to her as her eyes widened, mouth falling open in a silent ‘o’.

“Lando…why?”

Her hands gently took it from him, setting it down in front of her, her eyes full of shock as she took in every little item he’d placed meticulously inside.

“Because,” he sat down, “I…saw a thing,” he mumbled, “this dude got his wife a bunch of stuff that relate to the size of her baby,”

“Oh Lando,” Y/n whispered, her gaze on him more than the gifts, “baby, that’s so sweet,”

Lando grinned.

“Did you go this morning?” she asked, looking through the assortment of mango products as he nodded bashfully.

“Baby this is amazing,” she mumbled, her hand finding his as she flicked through the face masks.

Her excited gaze landed on the sweets, looking to Lando almost for permission.

“Go on,” he beckoned her gently, “it’s your gifts,”

She grinned from ear to ear, opening the packet neatly, and handing Lando one first. Always well-mannered.

“I love you so much,” she mumbled through a mouthful of the candies, her head resting on his shoulder as Lando smiled.

“I love you too,” he spoke back quietly, “more than you could ever know…and the baby too,”

Y/n smiled.

In that moment, a new love blossomed between the two, somehow more in love than before - if that was even possible.

Y/n’s friends would never hear the end of it.

And for the next few weeks, Lando, Y/n and the whole entire house spelt of the sweet smell of mango nectar.

[rebelliousneferut]

He Loves You Like I Do

Charles Leclerc x Wife!Reader

It was subtle at first.

Little signs that your son, barely past his first birthday, had already chosen you as his favorite person in the entire universe.

Not that Charles minded. Okay, maybe he did. A little.

Because this morning, for the fourth time in a row, your baby reached for you and only you — refusing his papa’s open arms with a frown and a pitiful whimper that said How dare you not be holding me, Mama?

Charles stood there in his Ferrari hoodie, hair messy from sleep, watching his mini-me bury his face in your neck like he’d been gone from you for years — when you’d literally just gone to the bathroom.

You looked up and gave Charles a knowing look, whispering behind the baby’s ear, “He missed me.”

Charles raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. “He saw you three minutes ago, amour.”

“I know,” you smiled, running a gentle hand over your son’s curls. “But that’s like… a decade in baby time.”

Your son turned to glance at Charles, wide green eyes blinking, cheeks squished against your shoulder.

“Papa,” Charles said softly, trying again, holding out his arms. “Come here, mon petit. Papa missed you.”

The baby didn’t even move.

He looked back at Charles. Considered it. Then shook his head with all the sass of a toddler who knew his power.

Charles pressed a hand to his heart. “Oof. That one hurt.”

You were laughing now, rocking your son side to side. “Maybe he just needs some mama time.”

“You said that yesterday,” Charles mumbled, though his eyes were full of love as he stepped closer, brushing his fingers along your arm. “And the day before.”

“I think he’s a mama’s boy,” you whispered proudly, kissing the top of your son's head.

Charles leaned down and kissed you.

“I don’t blame him,” he said, voice low. “I fell for you the same way.”

Your son giggled — a real belly laugh — and Charles’ eyes softened. He could be jealous all he wanted, but nothing, nothing, beat the sound of his family like this.

Charles wrapped an arm around both of you, whispering in mock seriousness, “I’ll win him back. I’ll bribe him with chocolate when you’re not looking.”

“You’ll be the reason he needs a dentist by two.”

“Then I’ll pay for the dentist.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile, but your son suddenly reached one chubby hand toward Charles’ face, patting his cheek softly — the smallest of apologies. Then, with no warning, he leaned out of your arms… and into Charles’.

Charles caught him mid-air, stunned but thrilled, holding him tightly.

“Well,” he grinned, looking at you. “That only took a week of rejection.”

Your son snuggled into his chest this time, blinking up at him, one tiny thumb in his mouth.

And Charles, swaying both of you gently, whispered like a secret:

“He loves you just like I do.”

This was Requested.🫶🏼

[rebelliousneferut]

miss possesive

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie navigates the subtle tensions created by Magui's presence, firmly establishing her place by Lando's side and with his family.

Wordcount: 10.3 k

Warnings: smut

full masterlist // request over here!

May 25th, 2025 - Monte Carlo, Monaco

The hum of morning was soft and golden as it poured through the slats of their bedroom curtains, casting sunlit stripes across the bed where Benny was curled into a loaf at the foot and Björn lay dramatically sprawled on his back, belly up and legs askew like the little menace he was. The scent of sea air mixed with freshly brewed espresso from the kitchen drifted through the slightly cracked window, and somewhere outside, seagulls squawked over a yacht.

Amelie stood in front of the vanity mirror, slipping a dainty earring through her lobe, her hair still slightly damp from her quick shower. She tilted her head, fixing a loose curl and adjusting the charm necklace Lando had gotten her last week in Milan.

And then she saw it — the silhouette in the mirror.

Steam billowed faintly from the en suite bathroom door as it opened, and out stepped Lando, towel slung low around his hips, another in his hands as he rubbed it over his wet curls. His skin glowed with the kind of sun-kissed tan that Monaco always blessed him with, and droplets of water slid down his chest, carving paths through freckles and faint scratches that probably came from wrestling with Björn or her nails last night. Probably both.

But that wasn’t what made Amelie smirk.

No, it was the neck.

His neck.

Covered in varying shades of red and violet—blossoms of her handiwork. Hickeys trailed from his jawline down to his collarbones like a path of breadcrumbs, bold and utterly unapologetic.

Amelie arched a brow, catching his reflection through the mirror.

���Well, well, well,— she purred, turning slowly with a crooked smile. —Looks like someone got mauled last night. Should I be worried?—

Lando didn’t even flinch. Just sighed and kept drying his hair, curls springing into unruly chaos with each swipe.

—I warned you,— he said casually. —Told you I had media stuff today.—

—You told me,— she echoed, stepping toward him, eyes glittering with mischief. —You just didn’t stop me.—

He let the towel fall from his head, dropping it lazily onto the chair by the dresser. His eyes met hers in the mirror — hazy, amused, still warm from sleep and water. And trouble. Always trouble.

—You really think I was in any position to stop you?— he asked, voice still gravelly, that morning rasp that always made her knees go a little weak.

Amelie crossed her arms, biting back a grin. Her gaze flicked again to the evidence staining his skin. One near his collarbone was particularly dark. She was proud of that one.

—Well, you’re definitely gonna make headlines today,— she teased, sauntering closer until she stood just behind him, her arms wrapping loosely around his waist. —“Norris debuts new sponsor: Girlfriend’s Teeth.”—

Lando snorted, leaning back into her touch. Her hands skimmed over his stomach, slow and teasing, fingertips brushing low, just above where the towel clung dangerously to his hips.

—They should be grateful I’m not charging for ad space,— he muttered, lips twitching. —Monaco real estate isn’t cheap. Especially when it’s on my neck.—

She giggled, pressing a kiss to the back of his shoulder. —You’re disgusting.—

—You love it.—

She didn’t argue. Just grinned into his skin.

Then Lando turned, suddenly, catching her waist and pulling her flush against him in one smooth motion. The towel stayed put — barely — but it was the smirk that made her heart stutter. That smug, post-mischief glint in his eyes.

—Speaking of love,— he said, voice low, —do you have my victory reward planned yet? You know… just in case I bring home a little something shiny this afternoon.—

Amelie blinked, trying not to laugh as her hands flattened against his chest.

—You're already angling for sex and the lights haven't even gone out yet? You’re disgusting and cocky.—

—Confident,— he corrected, dipping his head to mouth lazily at her neck. —And very, very motivated. Did you see the lap I put in yesterday? That pole position wasn’t luck, baby. That was pure, uncut “my girlfriend is gonna wreck me if I win” energy.—

—You’re impossible,— she whispered, shivering slightly as his teeth grazed the spot behind her ear.

—Tell me again tonight when I’m holding a trophy and your thighs over my shoulders.—

Amelie slapped his chest with a scandalized laugh, cheeks flushed and heart racing. —Lando! You’re a menace!—

—You love that too.—

God, she really did.

He dipped again, this time kissing her collarbone gently — reverently — his fingers spreading across her back like he couldn’t quite let go, even just to go get dressed. The towel had definitely slipped lower now, but neither of them moved to fix it.

Benny gave a bored meow from the bed, tail flicking once in disapproval. Björn snored upside down.

—You need to get dressed,— Amelie whispered eventually, though her fingers were still tracing circles against his ribs. —You're gonna be late for the driver's parade.—

—Mmm. Five more minutes. Or just cancel it. Monaco’ll understand.—

She arched a brow. —You want to cancel the biggest race of the year because you’re horny?—

He leaned down, brushing their noses together.

—Not just horny. Horny and in love. Big difference.—

That earned him a kiss. Soft. Slow. And full of all the things they didn’t always say out loud before races.

She pulled back first, gently nudging him toward the closet. —Go. Before I distract you again. I’ve got makeup to finish, and you’ve got a grid to dominate.—

Lando winked, finally releasing her. —Fine. But you better be waiting here later with nothing but that necklace on.—

Amelie smirked, eyes following him as he walked away.

—Only if you bring me champagne to go with it.—

—Deal.—

And with that, he disappeared behind the closet door, towel still barely hanging on, the bruises she'd left on full display like a signature.

Amelie turned back to the mirror, cheeks warm and heart lighter.

Let them all see.

He was hers.

-------------

liked by lanmelieupdates, ferrarigirlieee, and others

lanmelieupdates: Lando pulled up early to the paddock solo this morning, but don’t worry besties — queen Amelie arrived a bit later with his parents ��💕 like!!! wife behavior??? we won today and the race hasn’t even started

View all 87,095 comments

chaoticwags: lando locking in p1 just bc he saw her walk in with his MOTHER 😭😭 → gridgirl420: @chaoticwags bro was like “wife and mom in one place? let me impress” 😭💍

drsdrama: nah be fr is that a HICKEY on his neck or am i hallucinating → lanmelieslut69: @drsdrama you’re not. she left her mark and i support it. → ameliesburnttoast: @drsdrama that’s not a hickey it’s a statement 💋

paddockrat: lanmelie entering their soft launch marriage era i fear → norrisnation: @paddockrat hard launch next week i’m manifesting

wifeymelie: she showed up with his parents and he’s walking around with her love bites… guys we LOST → pitwallprincess: @wifeymelie we lost but also we won???

f1gfthings: everyone shut up i’m still screaming at the fact his mum was with her and not him 😭 → ameliesimpact: @f1gfthings mama norris said that’s my daughter-in-law now

chaoscorner: lando walking around like he doesn’t have a whole crime scene on his throat 💀

gridgirlie: HIS NECK??? BE SERIOUS → pitwallclown: @gridgirlie you saw the hickey too right ok i’m not crazy → lanlover44: @gridgirlie she clocked in overtime last night 😭😭😭

ameliesburner: she walked in like she pays for mclaren’s engine upgrades → landozaddy: @ameliesburner babe she does it’s called ✨motivation✨

wagsunited: lando’s parents arriving with their daughter-in-law like it’s totally normal 😭 → lanmeliee: @wagsunited give it 2 months max before we see a rock on her finger

paddocktea: lando acting all focused meanwhile his neck looks like a vampire got him → ameliecore: @paddocktea SHE ATE. LITERALLY.

glamgridf1: NOT THE HICKEYS ON HIS NECK 😭😭 → lanmelie4ever: @glamgridf1 AMELIE SAID “HE’S MINE” LOUD AND CLEAR 😭💅 → paddockbabes: @glamgridf1 and she let him walk in like that knowing magui was there… a silent slay if you ask me 😌

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The McLaren hospitality buzzed with the familiar rhythm of a race weekend—engineers moving with purpose, media people rushing around, and the subtle scent of fresh coffee mixing with heat and rubber. Amelie arrived through the back entrance, a step behind Lando’s parents, Adam and Cisca, her hair tucked behind her ears and sunglasses shielding her eyes even though she was indoors.

She smiled tightly, thankful for the calm presence of Lando’s mum, who instantly reached out and squeezed her hand.

—You okay, sweetheart?— Cisca asked, her voice always warm.

—Yeah. Just nervous,— Amelie lied. It wasn’t just tiredness. Her stomach was knotted, not from nerves but from her. She hadn’t even fully stepped into the room before her gaze landed on Magui.

She was standing by herself near the corner, a perfect picture of awkward elegance, like someone who didn’t quite know where to stand or who to talk to. She wasn’t talking to anyone. Not even pretending to scroll through her phone. Just... lingering.

Amelie could’ve ignored it. She wanted to ignore it.

Instead, she turned her head and followed Lando’s parents to their usual table. Adam pulled out a chair for her and she offered a quiet, grateful smile before settling in, right between them, like some kind of neutral zone. Cisca began chatting about their flight and the weather in Monaco, and Amelie did her best to follow, nodding and replying when appropriate. She even laughed a few times, forcing herself to breathe, to ground herself.

But her peripheral vision kept betraying her.

Magui was still standing alone. Like a lost puppy. Like she didn’t know where she belonged. And Amelie hated it. She hated that she cared. Hated that her stupid human empathy kicked in when what she really wanted to do was stand up and yell “get the fuck out of here, you don’t belong anymore.”

She didn’t owe Magui kindness.

And yet...

She glanced over. Just a glance. Barely even that.

And Magui looked up.

Shit.

It was the wrong glance. It felt like an invitation. A look Magui clearly interpreted as, hey, come on over and ruin my day.

Amelie tried to look away, but it was too late. She watched as Magui pulled a chair from the next table—scraping it loudly against the floor—and brought it beside her. Adam and Cisca went quiet. Amelie internally groaned.

—Hey,— Magui said sweetly, that fake-ass smile plastered on her face.

—Hi,— Amelie replied, tight-lipped, eyes flicking to Cisca, who raised a brow ever so slightly.

There was a pause. An awful one. Long enough to feel the tension wrap around the table like cling film.

—So... you came with Lando’s parents? That’s sweet. It’s so nice that they still let people from the past come around. Nostalgia’s cute like that.—

The air dropped ten degrees.

Amelie smiled, sharp and polite. —Yeah. It’s nice when you don’t burn every bridge you cross.—

Adam coughed. Cisca’s lips twitched.

Magui didn’t stop.

—I just think it’s so charming how quickly everything changed after Miami. Like one win and suddenly... bam! Everyone’s in love. Must be exhausting to keep up with, right?—

Amelie clenched her jaw. She could feel her skin prickle, her throat tighten, her fists curl under the table. This bitch.

Before she could even open her mouth to reply...

The door swung open.

And there he was.

Lando.

Hair still damp from prep, fireproofs clinging to his frame, the top half of his race suit tied at the waist. He stepped in with that lazy, focused swagger—eyes scanning the room in a split second.

And the second his gaze found her, everything in him shifted. His entire face lit up. His feet moved on instinct.

Amelie swore she heard Magui’s breath hitch.

—There he is,— Adam muttered under his breath, smiling.

Lando beelined straight for their table, ignoring everyone else. Ignoring the way Magui subtly shifted in her seat, adjusting her posture like she was on a goddamn Vogue cover shoot, as if he’d so much as glance in her direction.

He didn’t.

Not once.

Instead, he went straight to his mum and dad, giving them each a tight, warm hug.

—You good, mate?— Adam asked, patting his back.

—Yeah. Feeling it today,— Lando said, pulling away. His voice had that pre-race grit to it, laced with adrenaline and focus, but there was something else too—something softer when he turned to her.

He leaned down, hand already finding the back of Amelie’s chair, thumb brushing the fabric of her shirt just above her spine.

—Hi, baby,— he said low, like she was the only person in the room.

Amelie’s heart squeezed.

—Hi, Lan.—

And just like that, she stood slightly, arms looping around his waist, nose brushing the cotton of his fireproofs as he bent down to kiss her—slow, deliberate, just a moment longer than polite. His hand cupped her jaw, fingers grazing the ends of her hair.

When they broke apart, his forehead pressed against hers for a beat longer than necessary.

It was a quiet declaration.

And Magui saw every fucking second of it.

Amelie didn’t need to turn her head to know—she could feel it. The tension radiating from Magui’s side like heat off tarmac.

She bit back a smile. Fucking hell, that felt good.

Lando finally pulled back, still holding her waist as he sat down beside her, dragging a chair from another table to be closer.

He didn’t acknowledge Magui once.

Didn’t nod. Didn’t smile. Not even a twitch of recognition.

If anything, he leaned into Amelie more, legs bumping hers under the table, his knee pressed to hers like it belonged there.

And Magui… Magui looked like she wanted to peel her skin off.

Still, she tried.

—You’re looking focused, Lando,— she said, sweet like syrup.

He didn’t look at her.

—Thanks,— he replied shortly, eyes on Amelie as he reached for her hand under the table, giving it a quick squeeze.

Cisca raised her glass of water in a faux toast. —Well, we certainly know who’s fueling the good vibes this weekend.—

Adam chuckled. —I’d say it’s the breakfast, but yeah, might be something else.—

Amelie laughed quietly, cheeks warm. Lando just smirked and dropped his head to her shoulder for a second, pretending to yawn into her arm, the picture of casual affection.

Magui cleared her throat.

—It’s just... funny, isn’t it? This dynamic,— she said vaguely, swirling the water in her glass. —You used to be so private, Lando. All hush-hush. And now... this.—

Lando tilted his head, finally glancing toward her. For a second, Amelie thought he might say something sharp.

But he didn’t.

He just grinned, boyish and infuriatingly smug.

—Guess I was just waiting for the right person to show off.—

Magui blinked.

And just like that, she was done.

Not officially—she kept sitting there, but she was done. The attention wasn’t on her. The pull wasn’t on her. She could feel it, the gravity of the room shifting around Amelie. People passing by to say hi, some smiling, some clearly just trying to get close to Lando, but still—they gravitated toward her. The little nods. The curious glances. The subtle touches of admiration and envy.

This was her place.

Her chair.

Her table.

Not Magui’s.

Never again.

Lando leaned into her again, brushing his knuckles against her thigh under the table.

—You okay, Ames?— he murmured.

—Better now,— she whispered back.

He smirked, leaned in to press a kiss to her temple, and then said under his breath, —You look really fucking hot today. I kinda hate I have to go drive a car right now.—

She bit back a grin. —Go win the thing. Maybe I’ll reward you after.—

Lando’s eyes flickered with heat. —Define reward.—

—You’ll know when you earn it.—

Magui finally stood up.

Chair scraping. Awkward. Sharp. She mumbled something about needing to check on someone and left without waiting for a response.

No one stopped her.

Lando barely noticed.

The moment she was gone, he turned to Amelie, face softening completely. —You sure you’re alright?—

Amelie nodded. —Yeah. She doesn’t matter. You do.—

His fingers laced through hers again. —Damn right I do.—

—Cocky bastard.—

—Only for you, cariño.—

She rolled her eyes and leaned in to kiss him again, brief but firm. —Now go make me proud, Lan.—

He stood up with a grin, fireproofs rustling, hair tousled and stupidly perfect.

—Always do, Ames. Always fucking do.—

And with that, he walked off—shoulders straight, head high.

And Magui?

She was gone. Out of the frame. Out of the story.

Where she fucking belonged.

-------------

liked by gossipsquad, mclarenqueen, and others

paddockvibes: Amelie holding it down at McLaren Hospitality today with Lando’s parents 👀💕 Nothing like family support vibes on race day!

View all 103,208 comments

paddockbuzz: lando seeing amelie with his parents like “yep she’s mine” 😭💯 → thewagscoop: @paddockbuzz that hickey on his neck says it all lol

racedayvibes: ames flexing at mclaren today, magui who? 😂 → lanmeliesupport: @racedayvibes facts, no competition when love is this real 💖

fastlane_fan: when bae watches qualy at ferrari but chillin w/ fam on race day 👀👑 → lanmelieforever: @fastlane_fan lowkey strategic moves, gotta keep everyone close 🤫

f1queenbee: amelie showing up to mclaren like “not today magui” 👑🔥 → lanmelie4life: @f1queenbee facts sis, she’s here to claim her king 👑💥

speedsterz: Amelie showing up at McLaren like “Magui who?” 🤡🔥 → lanmeliefan44: @speedsterz facts, she came to claim her man and the whole hospitality 😍 → fastlane20: @lanmeliefan44 queen energy only 👑

racecarbabe: Amelie + Lando’s parents at McLaren = family goals on point 🙌 → simpracer: @racecarbabe clan vibes too strong, we stan the real power couple 💥

vroomvroomvibes: Lando locking in P1 just cuz he saw Amelie roll up like that 👀💯 → lanmeliefan44: @vroomvroomvibes manifesting podium kisses & race day PDA, yessss 🙌

curvesandcorners: She ain’t playing, today she’s the boss at McLaren 👏💅 → speedsterz: @curvesandcorners CEO of his heart, no cap ❤️‍🔥

paddockvibes: amelie lowkey sending magui vibes: “not today sis” 😤 → lanmeliesimp: @paddockvibes lando got his queen back no cap 👑❤️

fastlane_fan: lando better bring home that W for miss perfect sitting with his fam 💯 → f1queen: @fastlane_fan facts, team vibes 100/10

sundayracevibes: magui who? lanmelie just took over hospitality real estate 👏 → lanmeliesimp: @sundayracevibes they’re basically the power couple of the paddock lol

gossipsquad: hickeys on lando’s neck = claiming territory 101 🔥 → lanmeliesimp: @gossipsquad Amelie’s way of saying “mine, back off” lol

tracktalk: lando walking on clouds knowing amelie’s holding down the fort 💯 → norisimp: @tracktalk he better be, that hickey on his neck says it all 👀

mclarenqueen: watched qualy at ferrari, today she’s showing who’s boss at mclaren lol → lanmeliegang: @mclarenqueen exactly, she’s making it clear where the heart is ❤️‍🔥

-------------

Lando Norris is the Monaco Grand Prix winner.

The words exploded through the speakers as the checkered flag waved over glittering asphalt, and the roar of the crowd was drowned out by a more intimate, more immediate sound—Amelie’s own sharp breath, caught somewhere between disbelief and joy. Her knees gave out before the realization even settled in.

He did it.

He fucking did it.

Cisca’s arms wrapped around her just as the sob burst free, wracking through her chest like a quake. Amelie clung to her like a lifeline, tears streaking down her cheeks, breath coming in jagged gulps as the weight of it all hit her.

Her Lando.

Her boy.

Monaco.

People were screaming around them, orange shirts bouncing, mechanics throwing fists into the air, but she couldn’t see any of it. She couldn’t hear anything past the ringing in her ears and the sound of her own heart threatening to burst through her chest.

Lando Norris. Winner of the Monaco Grand Prix.

Someone said her name—Lily, probably—but Amelie didn’t hear it. Didn’t care. She didn’t look back. She broke free from Cisca’s embrace with a whispered apology and pushed forward, blindly following the wave of McLaren crew and staff making their way toward parc fermé. She weaved through people she didn’t recognize, ignored cameras shoved in her face, nearly stumbled on the stairs as she rushed down to the barricades.

By the time she reached the line of marshals holding hands to block the entry, she could barely stand still. Lily was next to her, equally breathless, tears in her eyes too, laughing in awe. Amelie grabbed her hand tightly, shaking, her nails digging into Lily’s knuckles.

The McLaren garage had erupted into chaos—Oscar was pulling into third, Charles in second, but no one cared about that.

Because Lando had won.

And there he was.

The papaya blur rolled to a stop, and Lando stayed in the cockpit for a second too long, helmet still on, hands frozen on the wheel. Then he slowly unclipped everything with shaking fingers, as if the gravity of what he’d just done was only just sinking in. He reached for the column where he was meant to place his helmet and stood on top of it, his arms thrown into the air like a goddamn king of the world.

Amelie sobbed harder.

Then he jumped down, steady despite the height, and finally yanked off his helmet and balaclava.

And began searching.

His hair was a mess, curls damp and sticking to his forehead, his eyes scanning the crowd with frantic urgency. He found Adam first—his dad pushing through the line, both arms open. Lando didn’t hesitate. He grabbed him in a crushing hug, burying his face into his shoulder. Adam grinned, eyes glinting, whispering something into his ear.

Next came Cisca—already crying, arms open, her lipstick smudged on his cheek the second he bent down. She cupped his face, whispering something only a mother could say, and Lando’s expression crumpled just for a second.

But then he looked up again. Searching.

Searching.

Amelie wasn’t in the first row. She wasn’t near the McLaren engineers, or with the team photographers. She was further back, behind the marshal line, her body shaking with sobs, clinging to Lily’s hand, the sea of orange in front of her keeping her apart.

And standing directly in front of her, stone-faced and intentional, was Magui.

She wasn’t celebrating.

She wasn’t even pretending to.

She stood like a wall, back straight, arms crossed, blocking Amelie’s view—and path.

Lando’s eyes locked onto her next.

Not Magui. Amelie.

He saw her.

Saw her crying.

Saw the way she tried to stand on her tiptoes, like her body couldn’t physically handle the separation another second.

And he moved.

He reached out, his arm stretching across the barricade, hand extended like he could pull her to him by sheer will. The crowd noticed. People started shifting. They understood.

But not Magui.

She stepped forward instead, eyes on Lando like she had something to say—like this was her moment too. She grabbed his outstretched hand before Amelie could.

Lando flinched.

Her lips moved, forming words he couldn’t hear, and frankly, didn’t care to. His face twisted in disbelief, and then, without ceremony, he yanked his hand free, snatching it back like her touch had burned him.

Magui reeled.

He didn’t look at her again.

He only stretched his arm further, fingers reaching, desperate—and this time, the people around understood. The McLaren crew, the PR staff, the photographers—they moved. They stepped aside.

And the marshals?

They saw it too.

Saw the emotion, the rawness, the way Amelie was trying to get to him like the world depended on it.

So they let go.

The line broke.

And Amelie ran.

She didn’t walk. Didn’t push. She ran.

Straight into him.

He caught her like he was made for it, arms wrapping so tightly around her that she lifted off the ground for a second. Her legs nearly gave out again, but it didn’t matter. She collapsed into him, fists gripping the back of his racesuit, her face buried in his chest as sob after sob tore free.

Lando held her. Swayed with her.

Let her cry.

—You did it,— she whispered, voice shattered.

He laughed, breathless, still high on the win and dizzy from the way she clung to him. —I told you I would.—

She pulled back just enough to look up at him—eyes red, cheeks streaked with tears, lip trembling. Her hand cupped his jaw like she didn’t believe he was real.

—You’re my Monaco winner,— she said, trying to smile.

Lando bent his forehead to hers, nose brushing hers as his voice cracked around the lump in his throat.

—Only because of you.—

The crowd kept cheering.

Cameras kept flashing.

But for them, the world narrowed.

To hands on faces.

To tears on cheeks.

To a moment they would never, ever forget.

And Magui?

She was nowhere to be seen.

Because this was Amelie’s ending.

This was her love story.

And her boy had just won the crown jewel of Formula 1—his arms around her, tears mixing with champagne dreams.

Monaco belonged to Lando Norris now.

And so did she.

-------------

liked by lanmelieslut, drs4lanmelie, and others

lanmelieupdates: amelie watching lando on the monaco podium with tears in her eyes and the proudest smile ever… she’s so real for that 😭🏁👑 we all won today.

View all 189,936 comments

f1lvr44: bro won monaco and her heart again on live tv 😭 → lanstans: @f1lvr44 he been won it let’s be fr 😭😭

chaoticwags: lando winning just to make his crybaby gf proud is SO real of him → norrisimp: @chaoticwags she cried so he wouldn’t have to 😭 team effort

gridgf: she looked like she was gonna explode from pride omfg

lanmeliebrainrot: the way he looked for her the SECOND he got out the car 😭 → wagsonwagsonwags: @lanmeliebrainrot soulmate behaviour don’t @ me

gpfairy: she cried FIRST so i wouldn’t have to 😭 → pitlaneprincess: @gpfairy her mascara was fighting for its life and i respect that

lanmelieslut: not her looking at him like he just hung the moon 😭 → helmetwhore: @lanmelieslut SHE’S IN LOVE UR HONOUR!!!

wagsupreme: bro lando saw her crying and IMMEDIATELY got teary too like?? soulmate shit

gridgirly: lando really said “this one’s for my girl” without saying it 😩 → lanfan44: @gridgirly he might as well have held up a sign that said “i love amelie”

softforlanmelie: every race win from now on is gonna be a romcom finale i fear → dnfangel: @softforlanmelie i will be SEATED every sunday

lanmeliepropaganda: monaco is THEIR city now. sorry i don’t make the rules. → formulaheart: @lanmeliepropaganda literally the prince and princess of the paddock👑

f1simpclub: she was crying??? oh this is LOVE love 😭😭 → lanfan44: @f1simpclub someone said she whispered “that’s my baby” i’m gonna pass out

chaoticwags: she saw him lift that trophy and said “yep. worth the stress”

monacobabe: Lando winning MONACO with Amelie crying in the paddock??? Netflix couldn’t write this → danisdaisies: @monacobabe season 7 of drive to survive is about to be EUPHORIC

paddocktea: magui who???? amelie cleared and claimed her man like a queen → gridgremlin: @paddocktea hickeys AND tears in one weekend?? historic behavior

lanmelieforeverrr: that proud gf energy?? unmatched. she BEEN knew he was built for this

f1moms: amelie wiping her tears while lando popped champagne was so cinematic

drs4lanmelie: you KNOW he looked for her first up there 😭 → pitlaneprincess: @drs4lanmelie you could SEE the heart eyes from the podium → lanlovesmelie: @drs4lanmelie he’s so whipped it’s almost spiritual

monacowags: the way she was sobbing and his parents were hyping her up 😭 → chaosinsector3: @monacowags full family moment… i’m crying in the club → lanmeliesgf: @monacowags they better frame that screenshot in the papaya HQ 💐

-------------

The ballroom shimmered in gold and champagne light, every surface of the Prince’s Palace adorned in a way that screamed tradition, elegance, and the kind of old-money glamour Monaco was built on. Amelie looked like a fucking dream.

Lando honestly thought she might’ve been sent just to torture him tonight.

She wore a sleek, gray sparkly dress that wrapped around her body like sin, a high slit grazing her thigh every time she so much as shifted in her chair. Her hair was down, soft strands falling around her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled under the chandelier light in a way that made Lando forget his own name for a second.

He was supposed to be celebrating. He’d just won the goddamn Monaco Grand Prix. His lifelong dream. A bucket list item checked off in style.

But all he could think about was how fast he could sneak her out of this ballroom and back into their apartment.

She leaned in slightly, brushing her hand over his thigh under the table as she reached for her wine glass. A simple fucking gesture, but it made him grip his own fork like a weapon.

—You okay?— Amelie asked, her voice low and teasing, that little smirk playing on her lips.

Lando checked his watch for the fifth time in ten minutes.

—Not even a little, babe,— he whispered back, leaning closer so only she could hear. —This is torture. Actual, royal torture. How much longer do I have to pretend I’m not thinking about fucking you senseless?—

She choked slightly on her sip of wine, laughing as she covered her mouth with her hand.

—Lando! Jesus, we’re at a state dinner.—

—Exactly! I’m being very diplomatic by waiting, you should be proud of me.—

She shook her head, biting her lip in that way that made his brain short-circuit.

He was halfway through fantasizing about pulling her onto his lap under the white linen tablecloth when a royal aide stepped up to the microphone at the front of the ballroom.

—Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the winner of this year’s Monaco Grand Prix… Mr. Lando Norris.—

Cheers erupted. Applause. Champagne glasses clinked.

Lando stood, smoothing his suit jacket — tailored perfectly, of course — and gave Amelie’s shoulder a light squeeze. She gave him an encouraging wink as he made his way to the stage, but he could still feel her eyes on him, burning.

He cleared his throat as he took the mic. The room settled into a hush, cameras flashing.

—Right… uh, thank you, Your Serene Highness, everyone at the Palace, and all of you for being here. This has been, truly, a dream come true.—

He paused, heart racing a little. This was more nerve-wracking than the race.

—Since I was a kid, Monaco was the race. The one I used to pretend I won with my Hot Wheels on the kitchen floor. And tonight, it happened. Still doesn’t feel real. But I know, one day, when I have kids of my own...— he paused and glanced directly at Amelie, locking eyes —with that beautiful woman over there…—

Amelie flushed immediately. Her face turned the same deep red as her dress. The room chuckled softly, but her heart slammed against her ribs.

—…I’m gonna sit them down and say, "Your dad won in Monaco, and he celebrated like a king." Because it’s not just the race. It’s the people. The history. And the person you get to share it with.—

Another round of applause. Lando gave a slight bow and made his way back down to the table, grinning wide but eyes only for her.

Amelie tried to hide her flustered smile, chewing her lip like she could somehow suppress the blush threatening to take over her entire body.

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

—You’re such a fucking show-off,— she murmured, breathless.

—They should all know who I’m going home with tonight.—

She turned her face to him, eyes sparkling.

—Well, officially, I’m also very ready to leave this royal-ass place and go make some very bad decisions with my race-winning boyfriend.—

Lando groaned quietly, grabbing her hand under the table.

—You’re actually trying to kill me.—

—Only a little. You deserve it.—

They stayed through dessert, barely touching the crème brûlée, stealing glances and soft smiles like they were back in 2020 playing video games and pretending they weren’t hopeless for each other.

But now they were here. Older. Real. Public.

And Lando? He was on top of the world, with the girl he used to dream about in his bed every night.

-------------

liked by lanmelieslut, wagwatchdog, and others

lanmelieupdates: Lando and Amelie leaving the Prince’s Ball in Monaco tonight looking like a royal couple themselves 👑🧡

View all 97,015 comments

f1simpchronicles: they didn’t walk out… they floated out like a fairytale ending bye → lanmeliecore: @f1simpchronicles cinderella n her f1 prince 😭

gridgirlies: lando definitely had her heels in his pocket the whole night → softboystan: @gridgirlies and hyping her up like “you looked so hot back there” pls i’m crying → chaoticwags: @softboystan HIS HAND NEVER LEFT HER BACK HELLO??? possessive bf coded

wagwatchdog: amelie said “magui WHO?” with that dress → pettylanfan: @wagwatchdog she showed up and chose violence and i respect it

wifeyenergyonly: miss girl wore pink to the paddock, cried on the podium, and SLAYED the ball… triple crown energy → chaoticwags: @wifeyenergyonly and lando secured all three 😌👏

lanmemeie: lando holding her hand like she’s gonna float away if he lets go 😭 → gridwifeenergy: @lanmemeie he’s scared of monaco royalty stealing her tbh

f1gossipgirlie: THEY LEFT TOGETHER HE’S SO WHIPPED → softforlanmelie: @f1gossipgirlie she says “let’s go” and he’s already opening the car door

gridgirlcoded: the way he lets her lead i’m sobbing → dtsdramaqueen: @gridgirlcoded king of “yes babe whatever you want”

lanmelieupdates: lando couldn’t take his eyes off her the WHOLE time 😭 → ameliesleftheel: @lanmelieupdates he’s in a constant state of heart eyes

tracksidechaos: amelie in THAT dress??? she didn’t walk out… she floated → drs4lanmelie: @tracksidechaos lando was holding on like gravity failed

f1butmakeitfashion: THEY LOOK LIKE A DIOR AD 😭

pitlanepeaches: lando looked at her like he won monaco twice today → wagwatcher: @pitlanepeaches he’s one champagne shower away from proposing rn

paddockclowns: she said “you won the race, i’ll win the red carpet” and DID → brbcrying: @paddockclowns no losers in this household

wagscentral: bro was ready to fight the paparazzi if they got too close to her 💀 → ameliesleftheel: @wagscentral he’s on 24/7 boyfriend duty and taking it seriously

gridbabie: lando giving “my girlfriend’s hotter than yours” energy and honestly he’s RIGHT

pitlaneslut: imagine leaving the prince’s ball with your man AND looking like that → maxfewtrellfan69: @pitlaneslut she’s not winning she’s dominating.

-------------

Sass Café pulsed with a kind of late-night chaos Amelie hadn’t indulged in since… hell, maybe since the Grammys afterparty. She didn’t even know how they’d gotten here. One second, they were slipping out of the Palace, her hand in his, champagne still lingering on their tongues. The next, Connor was dragging them into a sleek black SUV, some of Lando’s friends—faces she didn’t recognize, all shouting and laughing—already halfway drunk in the back.

—Just for a little while,— Lando had said into her ear, the vibration of his voice curling down her spine.

Just a little while, her ass.

Now they were hours deep into thumping bass, neon lights, and overpriced bottle service. The VIP booth wasn’t exactly private—roped off in the corner, sure, but very much still in view of anyone with an iPhone and decent zoom. Not that either of them cared. Or noticed.

They were drunk. Dangerously drunk.

Amelie’s cheeks were flushed, hair messy from dancing, the silvery mini dress she’d slipped into post-dinner riding scandalously high on her thighs. Lando had ditched his blazer and undone the top buttons of his shirt, curls wild, chain glinting under the strobe lights.

They hadn’t stopped touching since they walked in.

She was on his lap, again, legs over his thighs like she belonged there. His hands were under her dress—on her waist, her thighs, sometimes slipping a little higher when he thought no one was looking (they were, oh god, everyone was). She didn’t care. Couldn’t care. Every time she leaned down to whisper something in his ear, it turned into a kiss. Sloppy, open-mouthed, fuck-we-shouldn’t-be-doing-this-here kind of kisses.

Lando tasted like vodka and that citrusy Monaco night air, and it made her feral.

They danced, or at least tried to—stumbling, laughing, clinging to each other as the bass pounded. At one point, he spun her around and pulled her back against his chest, hands roaming low, mouthing something obscene into her neck that made her knees literally give out.

Connor, who had been valiantly attempting to wrangle the group, gave up somewhere around the third bottle of champagne.

—Mate, public,— he muttered as Lando kissed a line down Amelie’s jaw. —People are filming you.—

Lando waved him off with the kind of nonchalance only the blackout-drunk and in-love could get away with. —Let ‘em,— he slurred, grinning as Amelie pulled him back into another kiss. —They’re just jealous.—

They were a disaster.

A hot, sparkly, sex-drenched disaster.

Amelie had no idea what song was playing anymore — it could’ve been a ballad or a car alarm for all she knew — but she was on her fourth (maybe fifth?) vodka-something, and her body felt like it was moving through syrup. Electric syrup. Lando’s hands were on her hips again, guiding her in time to the beat that pulsed through the floor, through her chest, through him. God, even drunk, even this drunk, he danced with intent. Like every grind of her hips against his was a fucking promise.

Her dress was definitely not rated for this level of friction.

—You’re gonna ruin it,— she slurred, tugging at the hem half-heartedly as it threatened to ride all the way up mid-dance. Her laughter hiccupped out of her as Lando dipped his head to her shoulder and groaned.

—Good,— he mumbled against her skin. —Burn it. I’ll buy you five more. Just… let me get my hands under it again.—

Amelie nearly choked on her drink.

She wasn’t even pretending to behave anymore. She’d tried for all of thirty seconds when they first sat down, smiling politely at the friend of a friend on Lando’s left, nodding at the others as they toasted to The King of Monaco. But then someone passed her a shot, and then Lando pulled her into his lap, and then his lips found the hollow beneath her ear and everything else blurred.

She should be worried. About the cameras. About the stories that would drop tomorrow. About the fact she had a flight in four—no, three and a half—hours to get to N ew York, where she was expected to rehearse for the AMAs and look like a functioning human being.

But instead, all Amelie could think about was the way Lando’s hands gripped her like he was scared she’d vanish. How his breath came fast against her neck. How his voice, low and hot, sounded like sin every time he leaned in to say something filthy she barely registered before dragging him back into another kiss.

He pulled her in again now, fingers slipping over the bare skin of her thigh with no shame.

—You’re killing me,— he whispered, voice hoarse and wrecked from yelling over the music and probably the champagne too.

She tipped her head back with a breathless laugh, rolling her hips lazily against his. —You deserve it.—

He groaned into her shoulder, and she felt it—felt it deep, felt it between her legs, and fuck, she was in trouble. She reached for another drink to distract herself, knocking it back and wincing.

Bad idea.

Everything tilted slightly.

Definitely too drunk.

Definitely too turned on.

Definitely too aware of the heat pooling between her legs with every touch, every drunken kiss, every stupid laugh that escaped from his mouth like they were the only two people in Monaco.

Lando kissed her again, slower this time, fingers brushing the side of her neck like he was trying to memorize it. She moaned into it, not even bothering to hide it, her hands fisting in his shirt like she’d fall apart if she didn’t anchor herself to him.

—Lan…—

Her voice cracked, rough and breathy, her forehead pressed to his as the lights swirled behind them like a fever dream.

He blinked up at her, dazed, pupils blown wide. —Yeah, baby?—

She shouldn’t say it. Shouldn’t let it out. But her restraint had been gone since drink number two and sanity had left the building entirely sometime around the third time he’d kissed her like that — like she was his last breath and first sin all in one.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling herself flush against his chest as her mouth brushed the shell of his ear.

—Please take me home.—

Lando stilled. Blinked. Pulled back an inch to study her, glassy-eyed and pink-cheeked, mouth parted, pupils dilated like she was drugged. With him. On him.

—Amelie...—his voice faltered, tight in his throat. He looked like a man hanging on by a thread. —You sure? We’re… we’re having fun.—

She whined. Actually whined, burying her face into his neck and pressing her thighs tight around his hips. —I know… but I can’t keep sitting on your lap and not have you fuck me, it’s... it’s cruel. I need you.—

And god, that word—need—broke something in him.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, lips pouty and eyes wet in that drunken, overwhelmed way she got when she was too far gone in it. In him. Her hands cupped his face, sloppily, palms warm and a little sweaty. He leaned into her like a fucking puppy.

—Lando, I’m begging. I can’t... I can’t wait. Please. I’ll do anything, I just need you now. Please, baby, please take me home.—

It was a whisper, a moan, a fucking prayer.

And it hit him like a sucker punch straight to the groin.

Lando was up before she finished the sentence, one arm wrapping tight around her waist as he turned to Connor, eyes wild.

—We’re leaving.—

Connor blinked. —It’s not even four yet.—

—Don’t care.—

Amelie was clinging to him, barely standing straight in her heels as she muffled a giggle against his collar. Her dress was riding scandalously high, lipstick smeared from too many kisses, hair an utter mess. She looked like the embodiment of bad decisions.

She looked perfect.

—Can you get the car?— Lando asked, barely hiding the urgency in his voice.

Connor opened his mouth to argue; then took one look at Amelie literally licking Lando’s neck, and sighed. —Yeah. Yeah, alright. Jesus. You two are menaces.—

Lando didn’t wait. He pulled her through the crowd, arm tight around her waist like he was shielding her from the world—or from the world seeing too much of what was barely concealed under her slipping dress. Her laugh was bright and hoarse, and she stumbled into his side, clutching at him like gravity was optional.

Outside, the cool Monaco air hit them like a bucket of ice.

Amelie squealed at the breeze, pressing herself closer as they waited for the SUV. Her lips grazed his jaw, nose nuzzling along his cheek. —I love when you’re bossy. Gets me all... mm, fuckin’ riled.—

He groaned, actually groaned, turning to crush her against the side of the building in the shadow of the awning, mouth on hers in a dizzy, messy, desperate kiss. Her hands slipped beneath his open shirt, fingers splayed across his chest like she was trying to claw her way in.

—You’re going to kill me,— he muttered.

—Not if you fuck me fast enough.—

—Jesus Christ, Amelie.—

The car pulled up just as her hand slid down his stomach and dipped below his waistband.

Lando yanked her off him so fast she squeaked. He opened the door, shoved her in, and followed, slamming it shut behind them.

The second it locked, she was on his lap again, legs straddling him this time, dress hiked up to her waist. The driver didn’t even blink. Probably had seen worse. Probably would’ve seen everything if Lando hadn’t yanked off his suit jacket and draped it sloppily over her back.

—Five minutes home,— he rasped into her ear.

—We won’t make it five minutes.—

She kissed him again. Clumsily. Hungrily. Like she’d starve without it. And maybe she would. Maybe they both would. It was fever and champagne and the kind of desire that didn’t ask, didn’t wait. Just took.

-------------

liked by lanmelieslut, wagwatchdog, and others

f1teaspill: Lando and Amelie were seen fully making out both inside AND outside the club at the Monaco GP afterparty tonight 👀🔥 Celebrating that win like it’s the only podium that matters 😭💋

View all 108,093 comments

lanmelieupdates: they didn’t even make it to the VIP table before starting 💀 → f1spicypit: @lanmelieupdates they said “PR who?” this is personal LMAO

chaoticwags: they celebrating that win like there’s no race next week 😭 → norisimp: @chaoticwags i’d kiss him like that too if he brought home a monaco trophy

f1slayqueen: amelie was marking her territory i fear 💅

wagsource: lando got champagne, the trophy, and the girl… he’s unstoppable rn → notmclarenadmin: @wagsource he’s in his lover boy + world champ arc

lanmelieslut4eva: she said “this win is mine too” and backed it up with tongue 😭 → pitlaneclownery: @lanmelieslut4eva she’s the real mvp and i fear not enough ppl are saying it

chaoticwags: bro saw her in that dress and forgot he was in public 😭 → norisimp: @chaoticwags he clocked P1 and PDA and i support both wholeheartedly

gridgirlfreak: lanmelie went from soft launches to hard launches to no launch just impact

daddylan4life: he really said “i’m gonna win and then make out with my girl like it’s a romcom finale” → yasmininfurla: @daddylan4life let’s be real she’s his prize and he KNOWS it

balenciagawag: someone check on magui she’s prolly watching through a burner rn → paddockmess: @balenciagawag nah she’s updating her stan twitter like the rest of us 😭

pitlaneprincess: they weren’t kissing they were COMMUNICATING with tongue 😭 → drs4lanmelie: @pitlaneprincess this is how F1 drivers debrief now actually

chaoticwags: bro clocked in, won monaco, then went feral in public 😭 king behavior → norisimp: @chaoticwags i fear this man is in his certified lover boy era

gridgirliez: they were making out like they just survived a war pls 💀

ferrariforwhat: her watching him on the podium crying then making out in a club?? like be fr i’d marry him → lanoszn: @ferrariforwhat she BEEN the wifey she’s just reminding y’all 💅

monacomental: the way they walked out of that club all messy hair and smug smiles?? love is so real → delulugirlie: @monacomental and they’re definitely going home to celebrate round two i fear 😭

-------------

The car barely stopped before Lando was hauling Amelie out, her legs tangling with his as they stumbled into the opulent lobby of their Monaco apartment building. Their doorman, a man who had clearly seen it all, offered a polite nod, his eyes pointedly fixed on some distant corner of the ceiling as Lando, with Amelie already halfway in his arms, fumbled with the key card.

—God, finally,— Amelie breathed against his mouth, her lips swollen and hot.

He didn’t answer, just kicked the door to their apartment shut with his foot, the click of the lock echoing faintly in the sudden quiet. His hands were already on her waist, pulling her flush against him, and her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just hard enough to make him groan. The scent of her—champagne, sweat, and that heady, intoxicating perfume she always wore—was driving him absolutely wild.

—Can’t wait another second,— Lando rasped, his voice rough with a hunger that mirrored her own. He scooped her up, one arm beneath her knees, the other supporting her back, her legs automatically wrapping around his hips. She was light, impossibly so, and the sudden rush of her weight in his arms sent a jolt of raw desire through him.

He moved through the apartment, a man on a mission, bypassing the living room, heading straight for the bedroom. Amelie’s head fell back, a soft, breathless laugh escaping her as he pressed hungry kisses along her jaw, down her neck. Her dress, already a crumpled mess, rode higher with every step, her bare thighs warm against his.

He reached the bed, a king-sized expanse of soft sheets, and lowered her gently onto it, but not breaking the kiss. His body followed, pressing her into the mattress, one leg hooking over hers to keep her pinned. He pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes dark and blazing.

—You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,— he muttered, his lips brushing hers. He moved lower, tracing the curve of her neck with his mouth, sending shivers through her. Her skin tasted like salt and something undeniably sweet.

Amelie arched into him, a soft whimper escaping her. —Do whatever you want, Lando. You deserve it. All of it.—

The words, so soft, so willing, hit him like a physical blow. He deserved it. Her absolute trust, her willingness to cede control, it drove him insane. He loved how she crumbled for him, how she begged, how she let him take charge. It fueled the possessive beast inside him, the one that wanted to consume her completely.

He dragged his mouth back up her throat, catching her bottom lip between his teeth before releasing it with a soft nip. —Oh, Amelie,— he breathed, his voice thick with unbridled desire. —You have no idea what those words do to me.—

He pulled back slightly, his gaze raking over her, from her flushed cheeks to the barely-there hem of her dress. With a deliberate slowness that was almost cruel, he reached for the zipper at the back of her dress. The silver fabric slid down with a soft whisper, pooling around her waist. He paused, his fingers tracing the curve of her hip, the delicate lace of her thong visible beneath.

—Get on your knees,— he commanded, his voice a low, gravelly growl that left no room for argument. His eyes, dark and dominant, were fixed on hers, watching for her reaction. He wanted her to understand, to obey. He wanted to see that spark of delicious submission in her eyes that always pushed him over the edge.

Amelie, without a word, pushed herself up, her knees sinking slightly into the plush carpet. Her eyes, still wide and dilated from champagne and desire, locked onto his as she slowly lowered herself, shifting until she was looking up at him, her lips parted in anticipation.

—Good girl,— Lando murmured, the praise a low rumble in his chest. He watched her, his breath catching as she knelt before him, a vision of intoxicating submission. —You know what to do.—

A slow, knowing smile curved Amelie’s lips. Her hands, delicate and precise, went straight for the buckle of his belt. The soft click echoed in the quiet room as she undid it, her fingers brushing against his jeans. Then, with a smooth, deliberate motion, she unzipped his trousers, the sound a sharp, intimate rasp.

As she worked, Lando was already shedding his own clothes. He unbuttoned his dress shirt, pulling it free from his waistband, the fabric rustling as he shrugged it off and tossed it aside. It landed with a soft thud on the floor, leaving him clad only in his boxers, the thin barrier of cotton straining against the undeniable bulge beneath.

Amelie’s eyes dropped, lingering on the undeniable evidence of his arousal. A low hum of pleasure vibrated in her chest as she slowly, tentatively, reached out. Her fingers brushed against the fabric, tracing the impressive length, and then she leaned in, pressing soft, tantalizing kisses over the taut cotton. She moved with a maddening slowness, drawing out the anticipation, her lips teasing, her breath warm against him.

But Lando’s patience had run out. Not tonight. Not when he was already teetering on the edge. He didn’t want to be teased; he wanted to be consumed. A growl ripped from his throat, and he reached down, his fingers clamping gently but firmly around her jaw, tilting her head back until her eyes met his.

—Enough, Amelie,— he rasped, his voice laced with a raw, impatient demand. His gaze was intense, burning into her. —Behave. And get on with it. Or you’re going to sleep needy as fuck tonight.—

With that, his free hand went to the waistband of his boxers, and he pulled them down, revealing himself fully to her.

Amelie didn't hesitate. As his boxers dropped, revealing him in his full, throbbing glory, her eyes widened for a fraction of a second before a predatory glint appeared. She leaned in, her lips parting, and enclosed him, her suction immediate and firm.

Lando groaned, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through the room. —Fuck,— he gasped, his fingers tangling in her hair, not to pull away, but to hold her closer. Her mouth was pure heaven, an exquisite combination of soft warmth and firm pressure. She knew exactly what he liked, the perfect rhythm, the perfect depth, each stroke driving him further into a frenzy.

He gripped her hair tighter, his head tipping back as he rode the wave of pure sensation. He could feel the blood pounding in his ears, every nerve ending screaming. —That's it, Amelie,— he rasped, his voice barely recognizable. He wanted to guide her, to tell her what to do, but her instincts were already perfectly aligned with his desires. Still, he reached back, gathering her hair in one hand, pulling it into a loose ponytail to keep it from getting in the way, a subtle form of control even in the midst of his surrender. His thumb brushed her cheek, a faint tremble in his touch.

He was close, impossibly close. The intensity was almost unbearable. Just as he felt the precipice approaching, he pulled back, dragging himself from her mouth with a ragged gasp. He looked down at her, his vision slightly blurred with lust. Her lips were slick and swollen, a faint sheen of moisture on her chin.

His gaze dropped lower, to her thighs, pressed tightly together, a visible tremor running through them. He could see the effort she was putting into holding herself, into controlling the intense wetness he knew she was battling.

—Look at you,— he rasped, his voice heavy with triumph and raw desire. —Trying to hold it in.—

Lando’s eyes, still dark with a mixture of hunger and amusement, held hers. He reached out, taking her hands, and pulled her gently to her feet. Amelie swayed for a moment, her legs still feeling a little like jelly, but he was there, a steadying presence. He kept her close, one hand on her lower back, guiding her towards the bed.

—Come here,— he murmured, his voice a low coaxing rumble.

He laid her down on the soft sheets, his body following hers, hovering above her. He was about to dip his head, to resume his assault on her neck, but Amelie had other plans. Her hands rose, cupping his face, and she angled his head, directing his mouth firmly to hers.

Their lips met in a furious, hungry kiss. It was deep and desperate, a culmination of hours of denied desire. Lando’s hand, almost on instinct, found the soft swell of her breast above the lace of her bra. His thumb brushed over her nipple, and Amelie gasped, a soft moan vibrating into his mouth.

He broke the kiss, his eyes still locked on hers, the heat in them almost unbearable. —Help me with this,— he rasped, guiding her hands to the clasp at the back of her bra.

Her fingers, trembling slightly, fumbled with the tiny hooks for a moment before they finally came undone. Lando didn’t wait. He dragged the lace off her shoulders, tossing it aside, and then his mouth descended. He suckled at one breast, then the other, his tongue teasing and swirling, driving Amelie utterly wild. Her back arched off the bed, her fingers digging into the sheets as she whimpered his name, the sound lost in the dizzying haze of pleasure.

Lando continued his hungry assault on her breast, his mouth warm and firm, eliciting whimpers of pure pleasure from Amelie. But even as he suckled, his other hand began its deliberate journey. He trailed kisses and gentle nips across her ribs, down her stomach, lingering on the sensitive skin of her inner thigh as he moved lower, an undeniable magnetic pull drawing him towards her most desperate need.

He slid off the bed, dropping to his knees on the floor, never breaking contact. With a decisive pull, he gripped Amelie's legs, drawing her down towards the edge of the mattress until her hips were positioned perfectly above him. He eased her legs further apart, and the sight that greeted him sent a fresh wave of heat through his veins.

A dark, undeniable stain bloomed on the delicate lace of her panties.

—Fuck, baby,— he breathed, his voice rough with awe and immediate hunger. —You're so wet.—

His fingers, slightly trembling with anticipation, hovered for a moment before descending, pressing gently against the drenched fabric. He rubbed, slowly at first, then with more conviction, tracing the swollen curves beneath the lace. Amelie cried out, a broken sob of pure pleasure, her hips arching off the bed.

—Please, Lando,— Amelie sobbed, her voice a raw plea. —Más—

He heard the desperation, the absolute need in her voice, and it only intensified his own desire. With a low growl, Lando hooked his fingers into the waistband of her lace panties and, with a swift, decisive motion, dragged them down her legs and off. They landed in a crumpled heap on the floor, another discarded barrier.

Amelie’s hips bucked, anticipating his touch, but Lando did something she didn't expect. He pushed himself back from the edge of the bed and, instead of returning to her, he laid down on the mattress, positioning himself with his head at the very edge.

Amelie blinked, a flicker of confusion crossing her pleasure-dazed eyes.

—Get on top, baby,— Lando commanded, his voice dark and husky, his gaze fixed on her. —On my head. Let me eat you.—

The order, so unexpected, so deliciously bold, sent a shockwave of heat through her. A gasp escaped her lips, quickly followed by a shaky, breathless laugh. Fuck, that’s hot.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Amelie obeyed. She shifted, her knees sliding on the sheets, until she was straddling his face, her inner thighs brushing his ears as she lowered herself. The sensation of her wetness pressing against his mouth, his nose, was electrifying.

Lando couldn’t wait. He was a starving man, and Amelie’s taste was his addiction. His tongue lashed out, a hungry, immediate strike, and Amelie cried out, her back arching as she rode his head, instinctively finding a rhythm that drove them both to the brink.

Amelie was close, impossibly close. Her body was writhing, desperate for release, every muscle taut with the effort of holding back. —Lando, please,— she whimpered, her voice strained, —I’m going to come. Don’t stop, please!—

But Lando was a master of control, and he wasn't ready for her to shatter just yet. —Not yet, baby,— he murmured against her, his voice a low, firm denial that only drove her wilder. —You have to hold it.—

As he continued to feast on her, he slipped two fingers inside her, feeling the exquisite heat and the desperate clenching of her muscles around him. He could feel her teetering right on the edge, a breath away from climax. And then, with a slow, agonizing withdrawal, he stopped. He pulled his mouth away, the sudden loss of sensation a shock to her system.

Amelie cried out, a frustrated, needy sound. He lifted her gently, positioning her on her hands and knees on the bed, her ass high in the air. As she gasped for breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure, Lando reached for the nightstand, his eyes still fixed on her. He tore open a condom wrapper with his teeth, the crinkle of the foil a stark contrast to the heavy silence in the room.

With practiced ease, he rolled it on, his gaze never leaving her. And then, without another word, he knelt behind her, pressing himself against her, the head of his cock nudging her entrance.

Lando thrust inside her, a deep, full stroke that elicited a breathless moan from Amelie. He loved every position with her, but this one… fuck. That ass, high and tempting, was driving him absolutely insane. He gripped her waist, pulling her back against him, increasing the rhythm, faster and faster.

—Oh, God, Lando,— Amelie gasped, her voice already hoarse with pleasure, her hips responding to his every thrust.

—Fuck, this is heaven,— he muttered against her back, his body slamming into hers with desperate force. He could feel her tightening around him, her core clenching. She was coming. He could feel it in every inch of her.

He reached a hand forward, finding her clit, and began to play with it, stroking and teasing as he continued his relentless pace. —Tell me who won, baby,— he demanded, his voice ragged with his own nearing climax. —Tell me, Amelie.— He moved his thumb with agonizing precision, pushing her closer, closer. —You can come. Just tell me.—

Amelie was beyond words, her body convulsing with the sheer force of the pleasure. His hand on her clit, combined with his relentless thrusts, was pushing her to the brink.

—You, Lando! You won!— she screamed, her voice tearing, her body arching impossibly high. —Always you! Oh, God, Lando!—

Her world exploded, a shattering climax that ripped through her, leaving her gasping and trembling, utterly undone. She cried out his name again, a long, drawn-out moan of pure release as her internal muscles clenched around him.

Lando felt her come, the intense contractions squeezing him, and it was all the permission he needed. With a final, guttural roar, he emptied himself deep inside her, collapsing against her back, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His hand remained on her clit, stroking softly as their bodies slowly, deliciously, quieted.

They lay there for a long moment, the only sounds their heavy breathing and the distant hum of the Monaco night. Lando pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder, his lips still tasting of her.

—Mine,— he whispered, a possessive murmur against her skin. —Always.—

[rebelliousneferut]

dada's girl.

pairing lando x reader

synopsis an unexpected pregnancy, the journey through milestones and a race day with dada's girl.

warnings just some cute, long awaited norris family fluff <3

author’s note here's the dad!lando i promised heheh, hope you enjoy! special thanks to @clovermoters for always being there to proofread and help me get my creativity flowing with her ideas. highly recommend you check out her dad!lando (and other!!) stuff, it's as great as herself

₊ ⊹

Lando never knew he wanted to be a dad until 3:05 pm on a random Tuesday in June. 

He was sitting on the couch, eating whatever you had started for lunch that day, before you started feeling ill and he had to take over. What you planned to be a delicious pasta dish for that day had turned into a burnt… something… on Lando’s plate. The guilt of ruining your food made Lando promise to buy you some takeout once you felt better.

You had gotten increasingly nauseous and felt weak nearly every day for the past two weeks, but Lando figured it was just the flu so he brought you tea and some chicken noodle soup (ordered in) every once in a while. 

“Lando!”

Your voice echoed down the halls from you two’s bedroom and he paused his show before jogging over, ready to get you the world. What he saw when he opened the door made his heart swell— you looked like a shell of yourself, all pale and weak underneath the sheets. 

“What do you need, angel?” He sat down next to you, gently placing the back of his hand on your forehead to check if you had a fever. 

You sat up, taking his hands in yours before taking a deep breath. “I need you to buy me something.” 

“Anything.” He nodded, paying attention. What he didn’t expect to hear was pregnancy test as soon as he answered you. “A what?” 

“Pregnancy test,” you repeated. “Just in case. I don’t want to scare you into anything, but we also can’t be unprepared if that’s the case.” 

“You mean if you’re pregnant,” he hums, completely lost in thought. “I, uhm, I gotta get a shirt on and I’ll go get you the, uh. The pregnancy test.”

Lando flailed around your bedroom like a headless chicken, looking for a shirt to pull over his naked chest, his hips already covered by black shorts. He tugged on a Quadrant hoodie and looked over to you, about to say something. You raised your eyebrows to encourage him, but he just turned around and ran out of your bedroom, closing the door behind himself. 

He’s not even sure how he got to the pharmacy. All he remembers is calling Max frantically from the car on his way home.

“Dude, are you okay? You look insane.” Lando’s best friend laughed through the screen. When he noticed his curly haired friend simply glancing over at his phone with worry, Max furrowed his brows. “Seriously, what’s going on?” 

“Isn’t it crazy how, like, someone peeing on a stick could potentially change your whole life? Like I know more goes into that and, like, stuff happens before the pee stick, but isn’t it insane to you?” Lando rambled. 

“Mate, pee stick?” Max looked confused. It’s only when Lando held up the little pink box that he finally understood. “Oh, you think she’s pregnant?” 

“No, she thinks she’s pregnant. I was watching Dexter and she just called for me, and then I’m-“ 

“Lando, breathe.” Max cuts him off. “It’s okay, you two are at a great place in your relationship right now to start planning for these things, if this turns out to be just a pregnancy scare.” 

“Are we? I mean, am I even ready to be a dad?” Lando continued freaking out, the car already parked at the garage. “I’ve never even thought about kids, and this is just-“ 

“How about you go inside, go be there for her, and if it turns out that you will be a dad, then you call me and freak out, okay?” 

Lando was about to bite off his whole finger with how aggressively he was nibbling at the skin around his nails. “Okay, I’ll talk to you later.” 

It took him another ten minutes before he got himself out of the car. He was dreading it. He wasn’t sure what you were thinking about it, either, so he didn’t know whether or not his lack of excitement was because he was scared for himself or for you. 

You knew he would never force you into anything you didn’t want to do, but motherhood? That’s not something Lando could imagine was easy to be in or get out of. Hell, he couldn’t imagine what the next nine months would be like for you. Especially with how he’s away for most of the time.

Maybe that’s what he’s most scared of.

He knows you’d be a great mum and he could be a good dad if he tried, but his career could interfere with this. 

Lando liked how you would sometimes pick to come and visit him during race weekends, especially at Silverstone or Monaco, but what if that’ll have to stop and he’ll only get to see you a few days every month? 

The fear of being a present but physically absent father shook him to his core. 

He was still scared and trying to stop biting his fingers as he watched you open the bathroom door. “So?” 

“We have to wait five minutes,” you told him before sitting next to him on the edge of the bed. He noticed your shoulders shake before you let out a quiet sob. “Sorry, I’m just-“ 

“Shh, it’s okay,” his arms instinctively wrapped around your body as he pulled you in, all the fear from his just gone the second you needed him. “I know you’re probably terrified.” 

“Yeah,” you sobbed into his shoulder. “I know I should be happy, but I’m so scared.” 

“You shouldn’t be anything other than you are, babe.” His hand came up to caress your head, like he knew you liked him to do. “I’m fucking scared to death right now, and I honestly feel better knowing you didn’t expect me to be happy.” 

“No, I know. This could fuck up your whole career,” you pulled away, wiping your eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, no, what?” Lando’s face changed from worried to confused. “Don’t even think like that and don’t apologise. It’s kind of both of our fault if we’re having a baby.” 

That’s when he saw you dart up from your seat and practically throw yourself towards the bathroom. He followed you closely, leaning on the doorframe to your en-suite bathroom, his bottom lip between his teeth as he anxiously nibbled at it. 

Lando couldn’t exactly read your expression. He couldn’t tell if you were looking at a positive or a negative, your face was just frozen in the expression you had when you looked at it. “So?” 

Your bottom lip quivered as you turned the little plastic stick towards him. 

“We’re having a baby?” He took it into his own hands, hastily, eyes darting between the two lines on the test and the nervous look on your face.

“We’re having a baby.” You nodded, a sad smile decorating your face as you welled up in tears again. 

Lando’s not sure what changed, but in that split second, he felt an overwhelming amount of joy pump through his system. His face erupted into a wide grin as he picked you up and spun you around. 

“We’re having a baby!” 

— november

The bedroom door opened to reveal your boyfriend with a small smirk on his face. 

“What have you bought this time?” 

He raised his arms in offense. “What do you mean? Why does me entering the bedroom have to mean that I bought something again?” 

“Because you have that look on your face. The one that tells me you bought something, and I won’t know if it's a new car or a tub of ice cream until you tell me.” You rubbed your little bump as a thought came to your head. “Oh, ice cream. Could you get some? Caramel, please.” 

“Yeah, sure, later. And you’re right,” Lando finally revealed what he was hiding behind his back. It was a small, turquoise, paper bag with a pacifier logo on it. “I did buy something.” 

You watched closely as he dumped the content of the bag onto your bed. He lifted up each article of clothing one by one, showing you what he picked out with a proud smile on his face. 

“Aren’t these cute?” He asked, glancing over at the laid out onesies, shirts and socks on the bed. “I got them for like four to six months, cause I heard they grow out of newborn clothes, like, immediately.” 

“That’s sweet, angel,” you smiled at him. “But we don’t even know the gender yet and you’ve already bought the baby their whole wardrobe.” 

“No, I know.” Lando nodded. “That’s why they’re all either green, yellow or papaya,” he said the last colour with a wiggle of his eyebrows, which made you roll your eyes and laugh. 

“You’re lame.” 

He leaned in to place a kiss on your forehead. “And you’re beautiful. What does baby want for dinner?” 

Lando developed a habit of speaking to you through the baby now. It was honestly adorable— he’ll wake up in the morning, a hand softly caressing your belly as he asks how did the baby sleep, which in truth is asking how you slept. It was lame, but cute. 

“Ice cream. Caramel.” You remind him. “And maybe some chicken with rice.” 

“Ew, are you trying to be healthy?” Lando grimaced. “That’s like what I eat for race weekends to be all fit and stuff. You need to eat nutritious and filling meals.” 

“Is chicken not nutritious or filling?” You crossed your arms, challenging him. 

He shrugged. “I don’t think that’s what the baby wants.” 

He knew your little tricks and habits. You would spend a little too much time on pregnancy blogs online, reading into their nonsense about how much or little you should eat, and what you should or shouldn’t eat. 

You had already had some doctor visits and Lando had made sure to ask if you needed any dietary changes, to which your doctor said no. So, Lando knew that you being a health-freak again meant you were in your head, and he wasn’t wrong.

When you finally dropped your shoulders in defeat, he smiled softly. “Yeah. Baby wants fries and nuggets.” 

“Coming right up,” he waltzed out of the bedroom, leaving you to fold all the new baby clothes and put them in the dresser Lando had built for them. It stood right next to the crib, of course. 

Lando was a little over prepared at a really early time, but it made you that much more excited to see him become a father. 

You know he’ll do great, even if he spends about half his money on baby stuff.

— august

It’s a few months after your daughter was born and you have yet to fully get the hang of parenthood. 

She’s amazing— little Maryn Grace Norris, a head full of hair and the chubbiest little cheeks known to man. Lando fell in love with her the second he saw her, his eyes welling up in tears when they laid her on his bare chest for the first time. 

And you fell in love with him all over again seeing how he carried Maryn in one arm and prepared a bottle with his other. He was tired, hair messy and a yawn left his system as often as a breath at this point, but still— fatherhood looked gorgeous on him. 

Lando thought the same about you. His heart grew twice the size when little Maryn was born, and he admired how you immediately knew what to do to make Maryn feel content.

Since it’s already been a few months since her birth, you two decided to let friends and family come visit. The first two people who wanted to see little Maryn were Max and Pietra. 

The pair came bearing many gifts, of course, and you had to put them all in the spare guest room since your bedroom had an abundance of baby products in it already. 

You and Pietra sit on the couch, watching how Maryn slept soundlessly in your arms. There’s distant chatter from the kitchen where Lando and Max are discussing racing stuff and preparing dinner, so you three decided to head to the living room and watch a show.

“She’s so tiny,” Pietra softly tucked her finger into Maryn’s tiny palm. “Is she always this calm?”

“Most of the time, yeah. She gets fussy at night, but Lando’s always up with her.” You look towards the kitchen, a small smile on your face as you watch your fiance stir the pan. He’s always shirtless, because Maryn immediately calms down when she feels the warmth of his skin— something she probably would’ve gotten from you if it was genetic— and his back muscles were on full display.

“What?” Pietra notices your gaze lingering for a while and once she sees who you’re looking at, she snorts. “Are you thinking about another one?”

“Another what?” You snap out of your tiny daydream and turn to her. “Baby? No, definitely not.”

“Mhm,” she gives you a knowing look and takes a sip of her wine. “I’ll give it a year or two before we have another copy of Lando running around.” 

“We’ll see,” you look down at the sleeping girl in your arms. She began to fuss a little, rubbing her nose with her fist and threatening to cry. 

In a few more minutes, Lando waltzes into the living room with a new glass of wine for Pietra and one for you. “Non-alcoholic,” he says, placing the glass down in front of you. “Now gimme my girl.”

You gently lift her up and hand her off to Lando, and of course, the second her cheek lays against his bare chest, she’s calm again. Pietra’s eyes widened. “You weren’t lying.”

“I know!” You pick up your glass and take a sip. “He’s like magic or something.”

As Lando walks away back towards the kitchen, he briefly turns his head towards the two of you with a proud smile. “She’s just a daddy’s girl.”

Both you and Pietra roll your eyes before continuing your conversation.

— march 

It’s the middle of the day and Lando was helping you get Maryn ready to go visit your parents.

The little one was now ten months old, babbling about things only she could understand, but Lando found it entertaining to have full-on conversations with her, as if she could respond in any intelligible way.

He was getting her dressed when Maryn started babbling again.

“Yeah? You like this dress, huh?” He smiles down at her. “I bet your grandma will love it, too.”

You were in the bathroom, curling your lashes when Lando suddenly called out for you. When you walked out into your bedroom, he was holding your daughter with a little glimmer in his eye. “She just said dada.”

“No way,” you gasp. When you’re close enough, Maryn reaches her arms towards you and you pick her up into your embrace. “Did you? Is my big girl about to start talking?”

She starts babbling again, poking at your face and playing with her fingers. In the midst of her babble, she says dada again, and your eyes immediately shoot to Lando. “I told you! I knew she’d be a dada’s girl.”

“That’s just unfair, I spend so much time with her!” You sigh in defeat before turning to your daughter. “C’mon, you got this. Say mama.”

Maryn just looks down at her fingers and how she’s grasping her own hands in an odd way. She babbles again, blowing raspberries as you lay her down on the changing table.

Lando walks up behind you and places a kiss on your shoulder, before harmoniously announcing, “dada’s girl,” as he walks away.

“I don’t know how you do it, Mar,” you look at your daughter again, a wide grin on her face as she continues talking to you in a language only her little mind can understand.

— june

Dulcet sounds of your favourite songs play through the kitchen as you prepare lunch for you and Maryn. Lando’s out to golf with Max, so you two decided to have a little girls day. 

She’s playing in the living room when you turn around to the pans for just a minute. You can hear the pitter patter on the floor and assume it’s her tiny palms as she crawled over.

Maryn was a traveller, she enjoyed playing in the dirt and sand, and crawling through your backyard to find rocks and flowers. And she was a huge daddy’s girl. To the point where she would start crying if she hadn’t seen Lando in more than an hour. 

Today, however, she didn’t seem to be too bothered by his absence.

When you turn around, you see her sitting on the floor in the spot between your kitchen and living room. “Are you coming to mama?” You kneel down and watch as Maryn begins crawling to you.

What you don’t expect to see is her stand up on two feet and steady herself, eyes focusing on you as she held herself up with a hand on the wall. She was determined to make her way toward your outstretched arms, and so she did.

Maryn took one step, and then another, and then three, four, five, until she slumped into your arms with a giggle. 

“Oh my god,” you kiss her head as you pick her up. “Your dada will be so happy.”

As if on cue, the front door opens and Maryn’s head whips to the source of Lando’s cheery voice. He steps into the kitchen with a grin on his face, “my two favourite girls,” he kisses your temple and takes Maryn into his arms. 

You decided to not tell him that she already took her first steps and instead let Lando experience them himself without expecting it. You’re not sure how long it’ll be till she decides to walk again, but you’re sure it’ll spark that same excitement in Lando’s chest as it did in yours. 

It took her a few more days, and a week before her first birthday, to take her second-first-steps.

Lando was sitting on the couch watching an old race of his, you were in the kitchen preparing a snack for your little girl while she sat and played on the playmat in the hall between you two. Lando would glance over at her every once in a while to keep an eye on what she was doing, but Maryn has always been a calm girl so there was no worry there.

“What’s on the menu today?” Lando asks when you set down the plate on your coffee table. He has a habit of stealing a few bites of Maryn’s snack once in a while, which eventually made her understand that he was also hungry when she was, so she’d immediately share her food when he’s in sight. 

You smack his hand away when he reaches over to take a cucumber off her platter. “Leave her food alone, she hasn’t even had a bite yet.” Lando sighs in defeat and looks at Maryn when you call her name. “Maryn, come have your snack.”

Lando’s heart skips a beat when the girl pushes herself up to stand on her legs. He softly touches your shoulder, “babe, look.”

Maryn lets go of the wall, her balance still off for the most part, but she reaches her arms towards you two and waddles a few steps over to the coffee table. Lando’s beaming and jumps out of his seat to pick Maryn up and spin her in the air. “My big girl can walk!”

You watch as Maryn erupts in giggles and Lando kisses her face, a warmth in your chest so big it could replace the sun.

— a year later

The paddock was buzzing with people and Maryn grew more and more anxious in Lando’s arms.

You walked beside them when Maryn tucked her head into the crook of Lando’s neck. “You okay?”

“Loud,” she mumbles, snuggling closer to hide her face from the sun. Maryn was now two and a half years old, and made her first paddock appearance today.

She had already met a few of the drivers and found them all incredibly funny, and all of them adored her. Maryn had grown into her personality— she’s curious, funny, caring and silly. She pulls funny faces when she notices someone’s sad, gives pieces of her food to you and Lando when she’s eating, makes jokes without even realising it and asks questions about everything. 

The three of you make your way to the McLaren garage and all the engineers beam at the sight of Maryn. 

“Alright, you two can stay right here while I go get ready,” Lando pressed a quick kiss to your lips and softly pinched Maryn’s cheek before making his way to where he needed to be. 

Maryn watched as her dad walked away and gently placed her head on your shoulder. “Where is dada?”

“He has to change into his special clothes for the car, remember?” You look down at the curly-haired blonde girl and she nods an answer to your question. “He’ll be back in a bit, don’t worry.”

The little girl just huffs a sigh and takes a look around the garage from where she’s sat on your lap. She can see all the aunts and uncles who work with her dad, noticing how all of them are dressed in the same colour as her— a small LN4 shirt sitting baggy on her torso. Maryn smiles to herself, believing that they are all matching her. 

“Mum?” Maryn glances up at you. You smooth a hand over her curls, knowing that whenever she says your name like that— soft, a little hesitant— she’s about to ask something important.

“Yes, love?”

“Why does dada have to go in the car?” she asks, blinking up at you with those green, wondering eyes that always seem to look right through to your heart.

“It’s his job,” you remind her, “he has to go fast and win the race. It’s kind of like a game.”

She rests her head against your chest, processing, as her tiny fingers play with the hem of her shirt. Then, in the smallest and most sweet voice: “Can I go fast too?”

You laugh softly, wrapping your arms around her, softly tickling her sides. “Maybe one day, but for now you get to sit with mama and watch daddy race.” Maryn giggles at that, leaning into your arms as she tries to wriggle out of your hold. 

One of the engineers comes by and hands her a tiny headset, custom-made just for her. She squeals when she recognizes it— she’s seen Lando wear one just like that. “Look, mum! I match again.”

“You do!” You grin a smile as wide as your daughter and softly adjust the headset to sit more snugly. “You look just like your dad.”

As if summoned by the sentiment, Lando appeared back in the garage, now clad in his orange race suit. Maryn spots him and immediately sits up, bouncing a little in your lap. “Dada!” She waves with both arms and Lando makes his way over. 

He picks her up from your lap with a soft peck to her forehead. “There’s my little racer,” he beams. “Ready to see me go fast?’

Maryn nods, enthusiastically. “Mhm! But, be careful, okay?” She curls into Landos’ embrace, awkwardly laying her head against his chest. 

“Of course, baby,” he softly caresses her back in an attempt to calm her. “I promise only safe speeds today, okay?”

You watch the two of them, softly smiling as the paddock noise blurs in the background. When one of the engineers informs Lando that he has to go, the curly-haired racer hands Maryn off to you and places a kiss on each head of his girls. 

“Go win this,” you tell Lando, smiling as he prepares to walk away. Maryn raises her arms in support, “go win, dada!”

“For my girls,” he nods, flashing the two of you a smile before tugging on his balaclava and disappearing further into the garage. 

Soon after, the race is about to begin and the garage springs to life—monitors flicker with telemetry, voices crackle through the headsets and engines roar as the cars exit the pitlane. You pull Maryn closer on your lap and adjust the volume on her headset, making sure it’s just low enough not to startle her, but high enough to hear her dada’s voice filter through. 

Her big, green eyes track every movement on the screens—all the colourful cars are displayed but she’s only looking for orange. When a McLaren appears on the screen, she narrows her vision to notice the helmet. She knows that uncle Oscar has a blue one, and her dada’s got a fleuro green. 

Excitement erupts in her whole body when she notices the green helmet, “there! That’s dada!” She squeals with such awe, as if she can’t believe that the superhero on the screen is the same man who tucks her into bed and sneaks her cookies when you’re not looking. 

You brush some curls away from her forehead and plant a soft, but proud, kiss on it. “Yep, that’s him. Look at him go.” 

For the next laps, Maryn sits still, as if her movement could, in any way, make a difference in the race. She thought that if she sat still, her dada could focus and win, so she did just that. In all truth, she was completely captivated. Maryn didn’t understand a thing about racing just yet, but she knew enough to know that when the aunties and uncles in orange start leaning forward, narrowing their eyes at the screen, her dada’s doing something incredible. 

And he was. 

Lando gains a position, going from p4 to p3. A cheer breaks out in the garage and Maryn shrieks with joy, mirroring the smiles on everyone's faces. 

“Did he win, mum?” she asks, looking up at you with curious eyes. 

“Not yet, love, but he’s getting there.” 

A few more laps pass and she begins to fidget, tired. You lay her against your chest and her thumb slips into her mouth like it does when she’s sleepy— a habit she formed soon after you took pacifiers away. Still, despite the noise of the garage lulling her to sleep, Maryn’s little eyes stay glued to the screen, watching Lando in quiet admiration. 

Then, in the last few laps, when Lando’s another position ahead and fighting for pole, the energy shifts. The entire garage sits still— hopeful, waiting. Maryn’s eyes flutter shut, no longer fighting the sleep as your eyes stay focused and your heart pounds, watching as the gap between Lando and the car ahead shrinks corner to corner. 

“Come on, Lan,” you whisper under your breath as you subconsciously caress the back of Maryn’s head. 

And on the very last lap— through a risky overtake and a perfectly timed sector— he does it. He gains the position and lands himself in first place. 

Maryn jolts awake at the noise of engineers cheering around her, and she quickly glances to the screen. “Mum, he won!” She grins widely, still sleepy but happy to be included once you tightly squeeze her into a hug. 

“He did!” You laugh, blinking away a tear or two. 

The cooldown lap passes in a blur of shared hugs and smiles, and Lando’s voice plays in the headsets, light and breathless. “This one’s for the two loves of my life waiting for me. I love you.” 

You feel your daughter sigh happily in your arms, waiting patiently for when her dad joins you two. Once the team helps him out of the car, Lando makes his way back to the garage, flushed and sweaty, but beaming. He barely gets his helmet off when Maryn starts running in your lap, her feet not even touching the ground yet. 

She wriggles out of your lap and sprints across the floor, arms raised for her dad to pick her up. Lando catches her mid jump, lifting her high in the air and twirling the two of them around before bringing her close. 

“You went so fast!” She beams. “And you were so brave!”

“I had to be,” he mirrors the same smile that’s on her face. “You were watching.” 

You join them when Lando walks over to you, heart full and eyes welled with happy tears. Lando leans in to kiss you and you meet him halfway. 

“She didn’t take her eyes off of you the whole time,” you murmur against his lips. 

“She's just like you, then.” He gives you a cheeky grin. You roll your eyes but still wrap an arm around his waist, hugging the two most important people in your life, surrounded by victory and love. 

Maryn tucks her head into the nape of Lando’s neck, cheek pressed against his race suit as she softly mutters, “I want to be fast, too. Just like you.” 

“You will be, princess. One day.” 

— 

It’s late by the time you get home. 

Your little girl is barefoot the second she gets through the door, padding down the hall to her bedroom, in search of her stuffie and blanket. You and Lando follow more slowly, shoes off, bags dumped at the door, the post-race adrenaline now wearing off, but still faintly buzzing in your limbs. 

Lando yawns as he drops down to the couch, one arm draped over the backrest as the other lays across his belly. “I think I aged six years today.” 

“You say that after every race,” you laugh, making your way to the kitchen. You grab a glass of water and lean your back against the counter, watching as he runs a tired hand down his face. 

Maryn returns with her blanket trailing behind her on the floor and a half-eaten bag of popcorn she must’ve hid somewhere in her bedroom. “Movie time,” she declares and plops herself down next to her dad like she owns the house. At this point, she kind of does. 

Lando raises a brow at you, helping her pull the blanket over her legs. “You approve of this?” 

“She’s almost three. She doesn’t ask for approval.” 

Maryn hums contently as she rests against Lando in her usual manner— one arm draped across his stomach, cheek pressed against his chest. “You won today.”

Lando kisses the top of her head. “That’s right. And who cheered the loudest?” 

“Me,” she mumbles through her best battle against sleep. 

You cross the room and join them, tucking your legs beneath yourself as you sit next to the two of them. None of you say anything for a while, letting the TV play a replay of the race on low volume as you closely observe every move. Maryn eventually stills completely, asleep, face soft and peaceful. 

Lando’s still absentmindedly playing with the ends of her curls when he says, “I used to think winning was the best part of this,” he nudges his chin at the TV. 

“And now?” You raise a curious brow. 

“Now it’s this,” he leans his head back against the couch, eyes half-lidded as exhaustion tugs at his features. “Coming home to you two. Even when there’s popcorn crumbs all over me and my back hurts.”

You shake your head with a laugh, softly nudging his thigh with your foot. “You’re getting soft, y’know.” 

“Probably am.” He looks at you— tired but content—and adds, “still wouldn’t change a thing.”

[rebelliousneferut]

LANDO FUCKING NORRIS

[rebelliousneferut]

oh my god fuck me

[rebelliousneferut]

everything but lovers ⛐ 𝐈𝐇𝟔

the person on the other side of your screen is not your friend nor your rival. he’s a third, evil thing: a lewis hamilton stan account dead set on making your life absolute fucking hell. 

ꔮ starring: hamilton stan account!isack hadjar x rosberg stan account!reader. ꔮ social media au. ꔮ includes: humor/crack, fluff, hint of romance. profanity. set somewhere in 2024-early 2025, twitter beef, manufactured hate on hamilton & rosberg (opinions i do not share!!! all for the plot!!!), rivals to lovers lite, google translated french. for tweets on the timeline, it's best read bottom -> top!!! ꔮ commentary box: this idea has been on my mind for literal months. let’s say it’s celebration for the consistent hadjoints so far!!! dedicating this to the lovely @spiderbeam, because her comments on my plot bunny compelled me to get this done 🤳 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[rebelliousneferut]

not a lot (just forever) ⛐ 𝐈𝐇𝟔

THIS IS: FORMULA ONE 📀 isack likes to think he's not asking for a lot.

♫ starring: isack hadjar x childhood bestfriend!reader. ♫ social media au. ♫ includes: fluff, romance. profanity, mention of food. events of aus gp (this deserves a warning), hurt/comfort, dash of fake dating, friends to lovers. slightly fucked up race timeline (we ball), google translated french, rookies make an appearance. anon requested not a lot, just forever by adrianne lenker. ♫ commentary box: this is also for the anon who asked for more hadjar fluff! i've found my people 😋 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Liked by isackhadjar, gabrielbortoleto_, and others yourusername baby's f1rst day at work

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user1 MY FAV DUO IS BACK IM SOBBING 😭 user2 Love love loveee that you two are still going strong after all this time!! user3 that caption is TOO witty actually. brb stealing. user4 IS THAT ISACK HADJAR??? ⤷ user5 oh honey u must be new here ⤷ user6 Welcome to the hell/heaven that is the isackhadjar x yourusername (best friend)ship

Liked by yourusername, visacashapprb, and others isackhadjar Snaps of my first week as an F1 driver ! 🏎️Somebody is already replacing me ...

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user1 a papaya hat oh u have competition isack user2 is that isack's gf? ⤷ user3 no she's my gf ⤷ user4 She's ALL of our gf actually. ⤷ user5 they're "just friends"! 😄👍 yourusername YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T POST THAT ⤷ user6 isack boutta end up in the dog house LMAOOO ⤷ isackhadjar Oops ? ⤷ yourusername isackhadjar I Will Remember This Moment user7 More Isack x Yuki content pls pls pls 🧎 user8 yourusername being a lewis hamilton fangirl <333 i love LH stan bestiesss

Liked by isackhadjar, olliebearman, and others yourusername bit of a long one but i need you all to bear with me. i was there when isackhadjar hung his first Cars poster in his bedroom. he told me je serai comme lightning mcqueen un jour, and while i had made fun of him for wanting to be a car, i also knew he was a man of his word. when he first got behind the wheel in 2012, i knew he would be a natural... and look where he is now!!! breaks my heart i won't be in aus for his official debut but this bahrain weekend was more than enough to remind me why he's the rookie to look out for. je t'aime, ma meilleure moitié x ka-chow! 🏁

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user1 yourusername don't make us cry challenge user2 The photo of baby Isack :( I'm devastated. user3 s'il te plaît, date déjà visacashapprb 💙💙💙 ⤷ user4 ship so good that even the team is on board. user5 "ma meilleure moitié" being "my better half",,, ohhh user6 HE SAID 😭 HE WANTED TO BE 😭 LIKE LIGHTNING MCQUEEN 😭😭😭 user7 Wait why won't you be trackside :( My besties ⤷ yourusername uni 🥲 ⤷ user8 pay for her plane ticket visacashapprb don't be shy isackhadjar Je t'adore ⤷ user9 He ADORES her. Oh Lord i am not your strongest soldier ⤷ user10 i am trying so hard not to ship you 2 but you are making it soooooo hard..

Liked by yourusername, lewishamilton, and others isackhadjar Friday/Saturday was strong, Sunday was painful and unfortunate for the team. Car seems to work, can’t wait to be back racing in Shanghai ! Support has been unreal 🙏🏼 Special thanks to yourusername who said I shouldn't shout her out, but when your best friend flies 19 hours to make you pizza ? A shoutout is the least that can be done

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user1 The comeback will be even better 💪 user2 keep your head up, king. china comeback let's gooo. user3 :( yourusername going through hoops to comfort isack. likeee user4 OGs know about the F3 pizza tradition ⤷ user5 MY SHAYLAS ⤷ user6 Can someone explain this ??? ⤷ user7 We are losing the ancient texts y'all...... ⤷ user8 when yourusername was at one of isack's races, they'd always make homemade pizza for the entire team (for good luck)! it's been going on since isack debuted in f3 asia in 2021, he talks about it on an interview somewhere user9 on est avec toi goat !! 🐐 user10 One bad race doesn't define you , wish u best of luck yourusername tu es un imbécile, mais tu es mon imbécile ❤️ Liked by creator ⤷ user11 Never hit see translation SO fast ⤷ user12 "You're a fool, but you're my fool" COME THE FAWK AWNNN

Liked by user1, user2, and others formu1adrama In case you missed it 🔎 isackhadjar and yourusername are the cutest friendship on the grid! Sources say the two have known each other since childhood. Ask anyone across formulae and they'll tell you yourusername has been a constant fixture in Isack's motorsports career. The two are a pair; do not separate! Photos -- 1) One of Isack's IG stories from 2024; 2) Isack's IG post from 2021; 3) Tagged Facebook photo from 2017.

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user1 and they were CHILDHOOD FRIENDS?! user2 S'il vous plaît … Combien de temps devons-nous souffrir ...? user3 slowburn so crazy tht i'm literally on fire 🔥 user4 Been my ship since Isack's F3 days user5 Does anyone have a clip of their secret handshake (the one the media caught in 2023 iirc??) 🥺 user6 friendship is so beautiful /s user7 isackhadjar JS MAKE A MOVE BRUV FFS U'RE ALREADY A F1 DRIVER user8 I'm boutta get real parasocial in dis household.

Liked by isackhadjar, yukitsunoda0511, and others yourusername je veux que nous mangions tous les deux bien 🍊

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user1 the caption being a translation of wendy cope's "the orange" poem >>> i want us both to eat well supremacy ⤷ user2 And when i say that line actually starts with "I love you"... user3 Did I miss something ??? Are they fr dating now user4 War Is Overrr yukitsunoda0511 is that my date night salad recipe ⤷ user5 who the fuck has a date night salad recipe??? ⤷ user6 YOU'RE ASKING THE WRONG QUESTIONS BRUH SO THEY HAD A DATE NIGHT 🫨 ⤷ yourusername much thanks yukitsunoda0511 ❤️ Liked by yukitsunoda0511 user7 i'll send $1 to everyone who likes this comment if they are actually dating ❤️ Liked by olliebearman, kimi.antonelli, jackdoohan, gabrielbortoleto_

Liked by yourusername, jackdoohan, and others isackhadjar Like the rock bears the weather

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user1 THE FIRST PICJDSKACSAD HELLOOOOO???? user2 Oh Isack Hadjar I was NOT familiar with your game. 👀 user3 Y'ALL DON'T LET THE SHIRTLESS PIC DISTRACT YOU FROM THE SOFT LAUNCHES ⤷ user4 MEEE. is it actually a soft launch when we all know who it is ⤷ user5 The keychains? The flowers? ARE THEY.. YOU KNOW... user6 ih6 lover era ? i used to pray for times like these user7 JE VEUX TE METTRE DANS MA BOUCHE user8 Are we witnessing Isack Hadjar claw himself out of the friendzone real-time ⤷ user9 AND I LOVE TO SEE IT YUPPP 🗣️ ⤷ user10 f2l THE superior trope. user11 ffs if y'all are just messing with us.... i stggg user12 Do u need a 3rd ahahahahaha jk. Unless?

Liked by isackhadjar, visacashapprb, and others yourusername every year, isackhadjar and i mark the day he started racing. a decade and some change later, i find myself in awe of how the boy who once lived next door is now racing all over the world. isack, you may be a menace on the track, but underneath all that is my best friend. may you always choose what makes you happy. in all the languages we know: i love you, je t'aime, nhabek

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user1 just fell to my knees at walmart user2 THIS IS ALL I WANT IN LIFE IS THAT TEW MUCH TO ASK visacashapprb You're not crying, we are 🥲 ⤷ user3 admin can we have a tiktok of these two pls ⤷ user4 Fuck it. Atp put yourusername in the team idc how user5 How will I recover from this?????????? isackhadjar Je te choisis pour toujours et à jamais et à jamais ⤷ user6 [ENG TR] "I choose you forever and ever and ever" ⤷ user7 SHUT UP RIGHT NOWW ☹️☹️☹️ ⤷ user8 i need a moment,,, ⤷ user9 Are we going to talk about how the post said "May you always choose what makes you happy" AND HE SAID . user10 "nhabek" because of isack being algerian :( these two

Liked by isackhadjar, kimi.antonelli, and others yourusername finally

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user1 isack finally finishing a race b/c yourusername was in the stands iktr 🙂‍↕️ user2 Swift x ice cream?? Best pairing isackhadjar Baby's f1rst race as a WAG 👏 ⤷ user3 WHAT ⤷ user4 OMH Y UFCKING GOD ⤷ user5 THIS IS NOT A DRILL?????????????! ⤷ user6 LET OUT THE LOUDEST YEAH BOI OF MY LIFEEE ⤷ user7 IS THAT WHAT TTHE "FINALLY" IS ABOUT ⤷ user8 I DID MY WAITING!! THIRTEEN YEARS OF ITTTT

Liked by yourusername, yukitsunoda0511, and others isackhadjar Better late than never ! C'est toi, ça a toujours été toi ❤️ yourusername

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user1 "it's you, it's always been you" i died .. i died n i'm in heaven user2 THEY ACTUALLY DID IT. THEY ACTUALLY DID IT!! user3 c'est le plus beau jour de ma vie 🙏 user4 Quick. Everybody act surprised ! yourusername just on time :) ❤️ Liked by creator

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒 !

Liked by lewishamilton, visacashapprb, and others yourusername isackhadjar cried to me on facetime after this btw

View all comments isackhadjar Ma chérie delete please.... ⤷ isackhadjar Ma belle please ⤷ isackhadjar Mon amour please delete please

[rebelliousneferut]

Plot Twist

Pairing: Isack Hadjar x reader

Summery: You’ve been dating Isack for well over a year, and he knows you write fanfiction. What he doesn’t know is that you write fanfiction about him. Using his real name. And one night he finds out.

Standard disclaimer: I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may found is on tumblr or A03 under the same name. This is all fake. It does not reflect real people, real events or their actual actions or relationships. May contain google translated languages.

A/N: I've seen a few others do this and thought maybe I'd jump on the train here's my first Isack fic <3

You’d always told yourself it wasn’t really lying.

Yes, you were dating Isack Hadjar. And yes, you wrote fanfiction. But it wasn’t like you lied to him about it. You just... never exactly told him what — or who — you were writing about.

It started innocently, before you ever even met. Just a silly crush on a talented, scrappy young driver with a sharp tongue and kind eyes. You wrote a few soft imagines on Tumblr under a fake name, and somehow, it took off.

Then, against all odds, you met. You hit it off. You started dating.

And the fanfic?

Well… it never stopped.

Even after things got serious. Even after you moved in. Even after you started borrowing his hoodies and waking up in his hotel beds, you still wrote your silly little stories about Isack Hadjar and the girl he’d do anything for.

You just didn’t think he’d ever read them.

It happened one quiet Tuesday night. You were back in France between races, curled up on the couch in one of Isack’s oversized Red Bull hoodies, eating cereal straight from the box while he sat beside you, scrolling through his phone. He was quiet — half-watching something on TV, half-dozing off — when a low sound escaped him.

“…Huh.”

You glanced over. “What?”

He tilted his phone toward you, brow raised.

“I just saw a tweet about fanfiction. Someone tagged me in it. Thought it was another thirst edit or something, but…”

Your blood turned to ice.

He tapped the link.

No. No. NO.

There it was. The blog post. Your blog post. A fic you’d published just days earlier — one that had already gained hundreds of reblogs — with the title:

“Stay the Night (Again)” — Isack Hadjar x Reader

He stared at it. Then at you.

You tried to play dumb.

“Huh. People write a lot of fanfiction, right?”

But it was too late.

He opened it. He scrolled.

And when he hit the line where you (well, technically, “reader”) whispered “You’re the only place I feel safe,” in his arms on a Monaco hotel balcony — which you had actually said, in real life, six months ago — he paused.

“Okay,” Isack said slowly. “So this is… incredibly specific.”

You stared ahead, wide-eyed, silently begging for the earth to open up and swallow you.

He turned to face you fully, a hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck.

“Chérie,” he said, voice calm but clearly amused, “you use my real name?”

Your voice came out a full octave higher. “...Define ‘real.’”

“Not like… ‘Zack.’ Or ‘an F2 driver who’s definitely not me.’ You wrote ‘Isack Hadjar,’ full name, and then described my hotel room layout and the exact way I kiss you when I’m tired.”

You groaned and covered your face with both hands.

“Are you mad?”

He blinked. “I’m… not sure yet.”

“Okay. Valid.”

He kept reading. “Did you write this one before or after we went to Monaco for our anniversary?”

“…After.”

He put the phone down and gave you the flattest look you’d ever seen.

You cringed. “In my defense, it got over 20,000 notes.”

He just stared.

“I said in my defense!”

“You wrote a scene where I give you a back massage after Quali and then say ‘I could win or crash out and you’d still be my favorite feeling in the world.’ I don’t even talk like that.”

“You said something close once!”

He looked absolutely betrayed. “I was half-asleep!”

You groaned again and sank deeper into the couch.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled into the throw pillow. “It started before we got together, and I didn’t want to stop. People liked it. It felt like mine. No one knew it was me — or you — not really.”

Isack watched you, expression softening. A beat passed.

“Wait,” he said slowly, voice full of dawning realization. “That NSFW Alphabet one… was that—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

His mouth curled into the most devilish grin you’d ever seen.

“Oh, you wrote that.”

“I hate this timeline,” you muttered, dragging the pillow over your face.

He was already pulling the blog back up.

“‘K is for Kitchen: where he makes you beg quietly because the wall’s too thin.’ That’s literally my apartment!”

You flailed an arm out and smacked his leg. “Stop reading it out loud!”

Isack cackled, holding the phone just out of reach.

“You’re unbelievable,” you groaned.

“I’m flattered, actually,” he said, nudging your knee. “I mean, who needs PR when I’ve got my girlfriend anonymously publishing erotica about me on the internet?”

You peeked out from under the pillow. “So… you’re really not mad?”

He smiled, a little softer this time.

“No. Not mad.”

You bit your lip. “Embarrassed?”

He grinned. “No”

You tilted your head. “Then what?”

“I’m a little… intrigued.”

You blinked. “Intrigued?”

He leaned in. “So let me get this straight: while I’m out here giving interviews and prepping for quali, you’re writing little scenarios about me — using my real name — where I kiss you like we’re in a movie and whisper things in French?”

You nodded slowly. “Yes?”

He smirked. “And these have, what, thousands of readers?”

“...Tens of thousands,” you admitted.

He whistled. “So I’m basically F1’s main character.”

“In the fic world? Kind of, yeah.”

He hummed. “It’s weird. But mostly just because I had no idea. You’re so quiet about it in real life. Meanwhile, online you’ve got me reciting French poetry in the rain and undoing bra straps like I’ve got a degree in it.”

You laughed, cheeks flushed.

“I take creative liberties.”

“You give me main character energy, chérie.”

He paused. Then, eyes twinkling:

“…Can I request a fic where I win in Monaco and we make out behind the podium?”

You gaped at him.

“Are you seriously making fic requests right now?”

He leaned over, resting his forehead against yours.

“Seriously. I want bonus points if I say something emotionally repressed and French.”

You smiled, your heart still pounding.

“Okay. But only if you stop reading the NSFW Alphabet out loud.”

“No promises.”

Later that night, as you curled up in bed together, he scrolled through more of your blog while you tried — and failed — to take his phone away.

“I knew I recognized this dialogue,” he said smugly, showing you a screenshot. “This is word-for-word what I said when I kissed you after that sprint race in Spa.”

“God, you remembered?”

“Of course I did. I just didn’t think you were going to immortalize it on Tumblr.com.”

You buried your face in his chest and groaned.

“You’re never letting this go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

He kissed the top of your head, laughing softly.

“I guess this makes me your muse now.”

You sighed dramatically.

“You always were.”

Isack looked down at you, one brow raised.

"Say that again," he murmured.

You blinked up at him, startled. “Say what?”

He leaned in, voice lower now. “That I’m your muse.”

You swallowed. “...You’re my muse.”

He smirked. “And all those scenes — the ones where I can’t keep my hands off you, where I make you forget your own name — those were based on real stuff too, yeah?”

You hesitated. “Some were... inspired.”

You felt his fingers trail along your waist, under the hoodie. Your hoodie. His hoodie.

He dipped his head, brushing a kiss against your collarbone.

“Then let’s make sure your next fic is even more accurate.”

Your heart practically stopped.

“Isack—”

He kissed the corner of your mouth. “Think you can remember the details, chérie?”

You swallowed, heat pooling under your skin. “Vividly.”

He smiled against your jawline, then lifted you effortlessly into his lap, his hands splayed across your thighs like he already knew the next scene.

And you thought to yourself:

Well. There’s your next chapter.

[rebelliousneferut]

You Did It, Lando

Lando Norris x Family!Norris

The sun shimmered over the harbor in Monte Carlo, the final lap of the Monaco Grand Prix unfolding like the final scene of a film. The roar of engines echoed through the narrow streets, but one voice cut through the noise—Crofty’s iconic shout:

“And Lando Norris wins the Monaco Grand Prix!”

The moment the words were said, McLaren’s garage erupted. Mechanics dropped tools and hugged, engineers high-fived, and orange confetti started falling before anyone could even breathe. But inside the Norris family villa, just above the hairpin, time stood still.

Adam and Cisca Norris had been watching from the balcony. Cisca’s hands were clasped tightly as if praying, while Adam leaned forward, barely blinking. When Lando crossed the finish line, she let out a soft cry, tears immediately spilling down her cheeks.

“He did it,” she whispered, hand over her heart. “He actually did it.”

Adam gently wiped his eyes, his voice rough but smiling.

“Monaco. He’s dreamt of this since he was seven. And now… it’s real.”

Down in the McLaren garage, the atmosphere was chaotic and beautiful.

YN, Lando’s wife, was huddled with their children in the corner of the pit wall, watching the screen with wide eyes. Her body was tense, her fingers curled tightly around her radio headset. Her heart was racing, but she kept calm — for the kids.

Aurora, now six, was practically jumping out of her shoes, fists clenched in excitement.

“Mum! He’s still first! He’s gonna do it! He’s gonna win!” she gasped, breathless.

Theo and Milo, their three-year-old twins, stood on either side of her in mini McLaren shirts. Theo was waving a toy car in the air while Milo wore oversized ear defenders and kept shouting, “GO FAST, DADDY!” at the screen every few seconds.

The second Lando crossed the line, Aurora screamed at the top of her lungs.

“HE WON! MUMMY, HE WON!”

YN dropped the headset and crouched down as all three kids charged into her arms. She couldn’t speak, too overwhelmed by the moment. Her voice cracked when she finally said,

“Yes, baby. Your daddy just won the Monaco Grand Prix.”

Zak Brown swept into the scene, laughing as he picked up Milo and tossed him in the air. Engineers surrounded the family, cheering and chanting Lando’s name. Confetti rained down and horns blasted.

Minutes later, they were ushered toward the back of the podium stairs. Lando hadn’t even had time to take off his helmet yet, but he was already looking around wildly for them. When his eyes landed on them, his whole face lit up.

He ran down the steps before the anthem finished, McLaren staff laughing as he broke protocol. Helmet in hand, he dropped to his knees just as all three kids launched into his arms.

“Did you guys see me?” he asked, slightly breathless.

“You were flying!” Theo said.

“You beat all the other papas!” Milo added proudly.

Lando scooped them up, one on each hip, then leaned forward as Aurora wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

“I told all my friends you were gonna win today,” she said proudly. “I knew it.”

YN stood back, taking it all in — the sweat, the champagne, the smile on Lando’s face. When he finally reached for her, he pulled her in close, pressing a soft, trembling kiss to her lips.

“We did it,” he murmured. “We actually did it.”

“You did it, Lando,” she replied. “You won Monaco.”

Later, in the press room, Lando’s answer to the first question was immediate:

“This isn’t just a race win. This is a life dream. I’ve wanted Monaco since I was a kid. And to win it with my whole family here — my wife, my babies, my parents — I don’t think it gets better than that.”

Back at the villa that evening, everything slowed down. No press, no suits, no podium pressure. Just family, barefoot, half-dressed, eating pizza on paper plates and laughing at Theo stuffing napkins down the back of Milo’s shirt.

Lando sat on the terrace, hoodie over his damp curls, watching the sunset paint the sky over the bay. His race suit hung on the back of a chair. He had one arm around Aurora, who was lying sideways in his lap still rambling about the start lights and how loud the tires screeched.

Theo and Milo were curled up on a blanket at his feet, tired but determined not to fall asleep.

YN stepped out with two mugs — one tea, one hot chocolate — and slid into the chair beside him. She smiled as she looked at him, like she was still trying to process what had happened.

“The boys told your dad they want helmets and champagne for their birthday now,” she teased.

Lando chuckled.

“That sounds about right.” He looked down at his kids, then over to her.

“Did you see their faces? When I came off the podium?”

“I saw your face,” YN replied. “You looked like you were finally breathing.”

There was a long pause. The sounds of the sea below. The rustling of wrapping paper from Aurora opening the “Victory Medal” she made from gold foil earlier that afternoon.

“You’ve given them a core memory,” she whispered.

“I hope so,” he said. “But even if they forget… I’ll remember enough for all of us.”

Aurora yawned and finally gave in to sleep, curled against his chest like she had as a toddler. Milo was out cold beside Theo, both boys snoring softly in sync.

Lando looked over at them, then at the glowing city. He kissed the top of Aurora’s head and let out a long, quiet sigh.

“I don’t need trophies,” he said. “This… this is what it’s all about.”

And under the Monaco moonlight, with his wife by his side and his children sleeping on his chest, Lando Norris didn’t just feel like a winner.

He felt like the luckiest man in the world.

This was Requested by @lovestyles222.🫶🏼

[rebelliousneferut]

Soft Launch

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando’s secret relationship turns into the worst-kept secret and the most chaotic reveal F1 fans have ever seen.

You had always known dating Lando Norris would come with complications, but you hadn’t expected to be his "invisible girlfriend."

Not in a bad way.

He wasn’t hiding you because he was ashamed—he made that clear with every kiss to your forehead, every late-night call from a hotel room halfway across the world, and every soft smile saved just for you.

But the world was loud, and the internet was louder. He wanted to protect you for a little while longer.

Keep you his.

"Soft launch?" you teased one evening, raising an eyebrow as he snapped a photo of your joined hands over a coffee table.

"Soft as hell," he grinned.

Thus began the game.

There was the blurry photo of your legs up on the dashboard of his car ("nice legs, whose are they?" Twitter screamed).

The two glasses of wine in his story with the cryptic caption show good company tonight.

The low, unmistakable laugh in the background of his Twitch stream sent fans into a meltdown.

You found it hilarious.

It was absurd, the way they dissected everything, zooming into the reflection on his sunglasses, analysing voice frequencies, matching nail polish shades.

Your personal favourite was the side-by-side someone posted of your pinky ring and the mysterious hand in Lando's post. Sherlock Holmes would be proud.

Until it wasn’t funny anymore.

It happened on a random Thursday.

A friend posted a group photo from a private birthday dinner, tagging everyone, including you. And there you were, sitting next to Lando, shoulder pressed to his, that smile you reserved only for him lighting up your face.

The comments started immediately.

WAIT. IS THAT THE SAME GIRL FROM THE COFFEE CUP PHOTO???

SHE HAS THE SAME RING! THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

HE SOFT LAUNCHED HER, AND WE FOUND HER.

You dropped your phone. Lando, who had been walking out of the shower, hair wet and towel slung low on his hips, paused at your expression.

"Babe?"

"It happened."

He blinked. "What?"

You handed him your phone.

Thirty seconds later, he was laughing. Not the amused chuckle you expected—full-on laughter, chest-heaving, tears-in-his-eyes kind of laughter.

"Lando! This is serious. Your PR team is going to faint."

"I warned them this day would come. Honestly, I expected worse. Like, someone hacking my camera roll or something."

"They think I hacked your life."

He grinned. "You did, kind of."

He kissed you then, quick and firm. "Come on. We might as well do this properly."

He grabbed his phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Making it official."

He opened Instagram and snapped a selfie of the two of you, your face flushed from panic, his smug grin on full display.

He typed, Not so soft anymore, is it? And tagged you.

You gawked at him as he hit post.

Chaos. Absolute chaos.

His phone exploded within seconds.

Your name trended worldwide.

Someone made a fan edit of the two of you within ten minutes.

His PR team did, in fact, faint.

But through it all—all the chaos, the articles, the memes—you looked at Lando, and he looked at you, and neither of you had any regrets.

You hadn’t just been soft-launched.

You’d been launched, alright.

Straight into the spotlight. Straight into his world.

And the best part?

He never let go of your hand.

[rebelliousneferut]

cupid’s chokehold ⛐ 𝐈𝐇𝟔

isack brings his girlfriend to pierre’s friendly football match, and everyone in attendance realizes cupid has isack in a chokehold.

ꔮ starring: isack hadjar x girlfriend!reader. ꔮ word count: 0.7k. ꔮ includes: romance, fluff. established relationship, isack hadjar is a loverboy :(, everyone else’s pov, references to gym class heroes’ cupid’s chokehold / breakfast in america. ꔮ commentary box: short and sweet because the boy-next-door-isms of these photos,, i am #changed. 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Everybody knows Isack has a girlfriend.

It’s in the special ringtone he has for you, the one all-too familiar to everyone in the VCARB garage. It’s in the way Isack spends his free time on the phone with you—hours going by with the two of you doing your own thing, as if you’re content to just exist with each other when you’re countries apart. 

It’s in the picture in his wallet, fraying at the edges and fading in its colors like he’s pulled it out one too many times. It’s from his first F2 win, his Campos Racing motor suit drenched in champagne as he lifts you in his arms; his trophy, dangling from your hands. 

Isack has a girlfriend, and everybody is reminded of it at the Pierre Gasly-sponsored football match. 

The rookie had been so shy about it, too. Asking Pierre Can my girlfriend come? in a voice too full of hope to decline. And so Pierre had ribbed Isack a bit, only conceding when the latter’s ears were burning red with embarrassment. 

You run late. Isack doesn’t say a word about it. He seems physically incapable of saying anything bad about you as he describes you to Paul and Zhou with an obnoxious amount of enthusiasm. 

“She’s got this smile,” Isack tells them as he pulls on his MC Alger jersey, “and her eyes. Oh, man.” 

Paul and Zhou share an amused look. The Frenchman isn’t making any sense, but they’ll endure it for the sake of having more ammunition later on. 

When you do arrive—spewing apologies for your tardiness, armed with pastries for everyone—it becomes apparent just how down bad Isack really is. 

There’s the secret handshake, of course. The one you two exchange the moment he’s helped you set down your boxes of treats. Zhou watches, awed, as you and Isack go through the elaborate routine without batting an eye. You immediately go to converse with Pierre like you hadn’t spent 15 seconds knocking fists and linking pinkies with Isack in a faultless shtick. 

“Insane,” huffs Zhou, drawing a snicker from Paul. 

Isack follows you as you do your rounds. You’re already familiar with Paul. The two of you exchange a one-armed hug, impeded by the hand Isack firmly keeps at your hip. 

You have to be introduced to Zhou, though. “Hi,” you say brightly, and in a heartbeat, the Ferrari reserve driver sees exactly what has Isack so smitten. 

You give out your name and shake Zhou’s hand. Isack stands by your side the entire time, his expression so openly smug that it can only mean one thing. 

Take a look at my girlfriend, he’s saying without saying. 

It’s in the little details, really. Zhou notices the way Isack plants a kiss to the top of your head before they have to head out on the field. Paul rolls his eyes when Isack scores a goal, slams his fist into his chest, and then points directly at you. 

Pierre giggles, actually giggles, when the game ends and Isack makes a beeline to you. 

The three drivers—poised to take a selfie—pause to watch the scene unfold. 

“Not bad, Alexandre,” you tease Isack. Normally, if any other person attempted to refer to Isack by his second name, they would be treated to the boy’s icy glare. 

You don’t get that, of course. You get an Isack who melts, his shoulders drooping like the mere sound of your voice had taken away his exhaustion. And when you laugh, wiping sweat off of Isack’s forehead with undeniable affection? 

He looks done for. Like there’s no one else he’ll ever look at like that. 

“How did I do?” he asks you eagerly, and when you feign thoughtfulness, he lets out an almost petulant whine. 

This was Isack Hadjar. Former F2 championship contender, VCARB’s best shot at points. He was known for his shadow-boxing on the podium, for his passionate radio messages. 

Surely this was not the same Isack Hadjar. 

This Isack is wringing his hands over yours, desperate for any scrap of affection and approval. This Isack is ruddy-cheeked, and devoted, and so obviously in love that it’s sickening. 

Paul whistles, calling Isack over for photos. Somehow, the latter manages to tear himself away from you, but the dazed expression lingers even as he jogs back to where the rest of the drivers are waiting. You stay where you are, seeming completely oblivious to the effect you have on your boyfriend. 

“If that ain’t love,” Pierre sing-songs to Paul and Zhou, “I don’t know what love is.” ⛐

[rebelliousneferut]

[MEANS I CARE!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: isack is entirely confused why his best friend is avoiding him. or in which you realised you're in love with your best friend.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: childhood friends to lovers, mostly angst, bits of fluff, a reader with dismissive avoidant attachment, reader struggles with her emotions, initial anger from confrontational!isack but overall caring!isack, cute love confession at the end! // poorly proof read as usual

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: isack hadjar x bsf!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2.2k

𝐀/𝐍: poured a bit of myself into this one! it's hard to tell from my writing, but i struggle with expressing my emotions and telling people i care for them. i've heard it's quite common for older sisters to have avoidant attachment issues so... i guess i check the box ◡̈ anyway, this one might be a tad bit dramatic but lmk what you think! ♡︎ // also miss mcrae's album has a lot of avoidant attachment!!

🏎️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | ⚽️𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You and Isack were opposites in every sense that mattered.

Where one would claim he was too expressive, you couldn't bring yourself to show you cared.

Where he was indecisive, you held all rationality.

And where he trusted freely, you locked yourself up.

But nevertheless, you had been childhood friends since he moved next door to you. Neither of you had a problem with the way you both acted. It was sort of like give and take: where you lacked, he made up for it and vice versa.

It never really mattered. At least that's what you thought anyways.

This year was different from every other. There would be no other like it. Because Isack was debuting as a Formula One driver. His life long dream. And you couldn't be anymore proud.

You didn't outright say it–you couldn't. You remember smiling when he told you and saying congratulations before Isack simply rolled his eyes and pulled you into a hug.

You remembered him thanking you when you pulled away, stomach churning at the lengthy hug. You were confused. Eyebrows furrowed, you asked why.

"For believing in me," he said with the most beautiful smile and the warmest brown eyes holding your own.

That was the defining moment... the moment you realised you were in love with your best friend.

There were signs. There were always signs.

Your extensive care for him and only him. The constant worry every time he went out on track. The small skip in your heart beat when he'd return home with your favourite ice cream. Your slight amusement when you'd pretend to be cross with him and he'd think you were being serious. The little trinkets he'd bring back from every race to put on the shelves in your bedroom. Or the way he lowered the volume of the TV before you'd even ask him to because he knew you didn't like it.

They were always there. But the line between best friends and whatever... it was so similar... so blurry. How could you've ever known?

But that day... it was like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over your head and reality had finally been opened to you.

You loved Isack. Not liked. Not admired. Not fancied. Loved. And you had been for years.

God it scared you. It terrified you.

People never said it to you but you knew how you were.

When you invested too much of yourself into one thing, you stopped it only moments later. You didn't want to stick around to see if something would be good. It was the assumption it would hurt. So if you could dismiss it before it even had the chance to... that's the only way you could ever relax.

You never understood how people did it. How you could give so much of yourself away. What happened when it all inevitably failed? Why wouldn't you protect yourself first? Why did you have to deal with the mess of emotions?

Loving Isack... it meant showing the most vulnerable sides of yourself. And it's not that he didn't know you. He was your best friend, of course he knew you. But that made it worse.

In your years of friendship, you had cried twice in front of him. And you hated it every single second of it. That he could see you break down. That you weren't the strong friend he normally relied on.

Loving Isack was going to fail.

You knew it.

You knew it when he crashed in the formation lap on Australia and it felt like a part of you had been ripped and torn into pieces when you saw him cry on the screens.

You knew it when he came to you, thought to be out of tears, but almost on his knees, hands immediately wrapping around you for a hug, asking you why this had happened to him and you couldn't do anything but apologise to him and tell him he'd come back stronger while you cried so silently.

When his parents thanked you for being there for Isack... fuck, you knew it would all backfire.

So you slowly stopped. Like you always did.

Fewer texts. Fewer jokes. More lies. Forcing yourself to do something–anything–else but care too much.

You hated it. You hated that it was bringing you some calm despite your body screaming at you.

It was getting difficult to keep it up. How many more times would you blamed it on the time zones? As if you hadn't memorised them the moment they came out. As if you hadn't been doing this his entire career.

But the small break after the Saudi Grand Prix meant Isack was back home. After you had missed your usual good luck text.

You had forgotten actually. You were in your room, studying quietly, unaware anyone would be home as your workaholic parents were out like normal.

Consequently, the thumps up your staircase were loud, almost deafening. Your ears perked up as the door of your bedroom went wide open.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Isack's shrill voice echoed in your bedroom, chest heaving as he stood in front of you, arms firmly to his side.

You turned from your desk. You eyed his attire briefly. The hoodie and sweatpants, the bags under his eyes... he'd probably just come from the airport. The one where you'd usually be waiting for him. "Excuse me?" You asked, throat dry from not speaking in hours.

Isack blinked, swallowing. He took a step forward to you, eyes flickering over you rapidly to see if you were okay. "Is something wrong? A-Are you sick? Are you stressed? Tell me what's wrong so I can fix it."

You could feel it. The tear in your heart growing while annoyance boiled under your skin. He didn't need to fix you. That was your job.

"I... I don't know what you're talking about," you sighed out, standing from your desk before you walked to your shelves. You chewed on your lip, nervously eyeing the trinkets Isack had brought you.

You needed this conversation to be over before it went somewhere else.

"Putain de merde," Isack swore, running a hand through his hair. He walked to you again. "Like hell you don't... you don't talk to me for a week and avoid my calls and you don't know what I’m talking about? Like I'm crazy?" He asked with a small scoff.

You sucked in a sharp breath, turning to face him. "I told you with the time diff–"

A loud groan interrupted your sentence. Isack breathed slowly, fingers pressed on his nose bridge. "I swear to fucking God, if you mention that stupid fucking time difference again, I will lose my mind."

You stayed quiet. You weren't sure what to say. You wanted to peel out of your skin, you were so uncomfortable. You hated confrontation. Isack knew you hated confrontation. And yet...

Isack sighed quietly. He stepped closer to you, holding your hands with his gently. "Please, ma moitié. Please tell me what's wrong. Did I do something? Why... why won't you talk to me?"

Your eyes burned at the crack in his voice. Fuck, this sucked. You hated yourself for feeling like this. It was like it was on the tip of your tongue but you could never get it out.

"I..." you said shakily, forcing yourself to remove your burning hands from his while you pretended like you didn't see the hurt flash in his eyes, "It's nothing. Nothing is wrong."

"So it is something. Something has been bothering you. Since last year... since I told you about my seat... something's been wrong. What is it? What happened?" Isack queried softly, brown eyes searching yours so deeply for an answer.

He noticed. Of course he did.

Shit.

"You know you can tell me anything."

But I can't! You wanted to scream it. You just couldn't tell him.

"Isack, please... just– you know how I am. I'll deal with it, hmm?" You said, trying to muster up a smile.

He stared at you quietly and you were scared he was seeing too much of you. The debate in his eyes... the way he chewed his lip... he also couldn't tell if he should say it.

"You want to cry," he stated, making your eyes widen. "I can see it in your eyes. The redness. Your red cheeks. You want to say something so just say it! I'm worried for you."

"Stop saying things like that." You let out an exasperated groan. You brushed past him, clambering into his shoulder. "I don't understand how you do it," you murmured angrily more to yourself than him.

The tears were freely flowing down your cheeks before you knew it. You glared hard at your desk, eyes hot as though it would stop you from crying.

You couldn't see it but Isack could feel his heart breaking at the sight of your figure shaking. You could feel him gently lay his hand over your shoulder. "It's okay to cry," he mumbled, "I wish you wouldn't hide it."

You felt sick. Like your stomach was churning. It felt like his hand was leaving an imprint on you, searing you. Exhaustion was clouding your body. Exhaustion that had built up over the course of the past few weeks.

"I can't do it like you, Isack. I can't show I care. It's so hard. It's like I have to constantly fight myself," you quietly said, unable to bear this any longer.

"Hey," Isack murmured, hand travelling to your face to turn you to him. His eyes softened at your wet cheeks. Wiping them with the pads of his thumbs, he held your chin with his thumb. "It's okay. You don't have to do anything like me. Take your time. Do what you want when you want."

You breathed quietly while you stared at your best friend. He was right. It wasn't as easy as he made it sound, but you were so tired of feeling like crap. You focused on his encouraging smile and opened your mouth.

"I... you were right. I was avoiding you," you admitted, eyes falling to the floor in embarrassment. You could feel he wanted to say something but he stayed quiet, waiting for you. "I was avoiding you because I care."

Isack furrowed his brows. "I don't understand."

You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating how much you wanted to say... how much you could say. "Last year... when you told me you got your seat, you thanked me."

He nodded in agreement. "For believing in me. Because you always do," he murmured, his free hand rubbing your own softly, comforting you.

You smiled gently at his words before taking in a sharp intake of air. "It just made me think, well, realise that I'm in love with you. And I always have been," you breathed out, the weight slowly lifting off your shoulders.

You could see Isack's eyes slightly widen but you continued. "And that terrifies me, Isack. Because it means I care. I care a lot for you. And I'm scared that because I care, something will go wrong. I-I didn't mean to shut you out. It's not what I want. It's just all I know. So I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I'm dumping this on you when you don't feel the same way and–"

"Wait, wait, wait," Isack interjected, hands both reaching to hold your face gently. He held your eyes with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. "Who's says I don't feel the same way?"

You mouth felt dry, heart speeding. "I... You do?"

Isack smiled, laughing softly as he nodded. "I thought it was obvious. That maybe you just didn't feel the same way."

He watched a dark expression fall on your face. You were in that same dreadful space you had just been in. "Hey, ma moitié, what's wrong?"

Your eyes fell to his once again. "What if I can't love you enough?"

It sounded strange but he knew what you meant. Even with all your care... what if you couldn't show you loved him enough? What if you couldn't express it?

"Not possible," Isack retorted, casually shrugging.

"But I–"

"I see it," Isack firmly told you, quietening you easily. "I see it when you're at my races and you stand on the side, letting me go to my parents first. I see you and your camera taking pictures of us when you think I don't. I see your heart. I see all of it."

You blinked, eyes burning all over again. For the first time in forever, you stepped forward, hugging him tightly. "Je t’aime, Isack.

His arms wrapped around yours, holding you closer to him. Isack smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Je t’aime, ma moitié."

"Did you bring me any souvenirs?" You mumbled against his shoulders, sniffling slightly.

You could feel his body rumble with a chuckle. "Depends. did you even watch my race or were you busy 'sleeping?'"

You pulled away, making a face, guilt still swirling within you. "I did watch it. You know I watch it even when I'm mad at you," you pouted.

Isack grinned. "Then of course I did."

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[rebelliousneferut]

Ties & Tiny Hairbrushes

Lando Norris x Family!Norris

The morning sun poured softly through the windows, bathing the Norris household in a golden glow. The classical music drifting through the hall added a touch of elegance to the chaos about to unfold.

You stood by the bathroom mirror, curling iron in hand, already dressed in a silky robe. Aurora sat cross-legged on your bed in her pajamas, hair a wild halo around her head. Her dress—a delicate flower girl number with tulle and embroidered petals—hung on the closet door like something out of a fairytale.

"Alright, my little lady," you said, unplugging the curler and reaching for the brush, "let's get you princess-ready."

Aurora perked up. "Can I wear the sparkly butterfly clips? The pink ones?"

You grinned. "Of course. A princess should always sparkle."

Meanwhile, down the hall, Lando was in the trenches. The twins, Theo and Milo, were a mess of limbs and giggles on the floor, half-dressed in miniature tuxedos. Theo stood stiff as a board, arms out like a robot, while Milo was busy chewing on his bow tie.

"Mate," Lando said, kneeling down with practiced patience, "this goes around your neck, not in your mouth."

Milo giggled. "Tastes like blueberries."

"Nope, not even close," Lando muttered as he wrestled the tie from Milo’s grip.

He turned to Theo, gently adjusting the bow tie with surprising precision. "There. You look like you're about to host the Oscars."

"Do I look like Uncle oscar?" Theo asked.

Lando grinned. "You look even better."

You walked in just as he was attempting to get Milo to sit still. "Need backup?"

Lando looked up, hair a little disheveled but smiling. "Nah, I got this. We’re bonding over bow ties."

"He tried to eat his," you pointed out.

"Minor setback."

Back in the bedroom, you smoothed Aurora’s freshly brushed curls, placing the pink sparkly clips on either side of her head. She turned toward the mirror, eyes wide.

"I look like a fairy," she whispered.

You kissed her head. "The prettiest fairy ever."

Downstairs, the dining table was set with toast and fruit, but no one had the time. Theo and Milo chased each other in slow motion, mindful of their suits, while Aurora twirled in front of the mirror.

You appeared at the top of the stairs, now in your dress—a soft pastel colour that matched the wedding theme. Lando looked up and froze for a second.

"Wow."

You raised a brow. "Good wow or panic wow?"

"Very, very good wow."

You smiled, walking down and helping button his cufflinks. "You’re not looking too bad yourself."

Once everyone was in the car, snacks packed and emergency wet wipes on standby, the chaos resumed.

"Milo dropped his shoe!"

"Theo has the ring pillow!"

"I need to pee!"

"We’re five minutes away," Lando groaned, glancing at you. "Still want another baby?"

You laughed. "Ask me after the open bar."

At the venue, everything went smoother than expected. Aurora walked down the aisle scattering petals with the grace of a seasoned pro. Theo held the ring pillow like it was made of glass. Milo waved at every single person, yelling, "Hi!" to strangers.

You and Lando sat near the front, hands clasped. During the vows, Lando glanced over, smiling as he watched Aurora playing with the hem of your dress and Theo mouthing along with the officiant.

"We make cute kids," he whispered.

"And chaotic ones."

"Perfect combo."

Later, at the reception, you danced with Aurora to the slow songs, while Lando spun the twins around until they were dizzy with laughter. The kids eventually passed out on a couch, sticky with cake and still in their suits.

You leaned into Lando as the music played and the lights twinkled above. "Think we crushed it today."

He kissed your temple. "We always do."

This was Requested.🫶🏼

[rebelliousneferut]

personally, I think f1 teams shouldn’t bring the cars to monaco. they should make all the drivers line up on sunday and run two full laps of the monaco circuit. tripping, pushing, shoving, and other general villainy is allowed. may the fastest driver win. also a 2 second time advantage will be given to any driver who takes their shirt off and lets those thangs BOUNCE

[rebelliousneferut]

saw you were looking for requests!!

ive been thinking of how lando would be sooo gentle with a reader who hasnt ever been loved properly like he would absolutely spoil her till the end of the world even if she refused

like he'd get her favorite flowers and take photos of her all the time and tell her he loves her 24/7

omg yes, I love this! He would be so sweet and caring without even thinking about it! I wrote this pretty quick, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out.

Like You Deserve

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Soft Romance Warnings: Mentions of past emotional neglect, low self-worth, crying, healthy relationship dynamics, tooth-rotting fluff Word Count: ~1200 Summary: You’ve never been loved like this. Not gently. Not completely. Not without strings or apologies. But Lando? Lando loves you like it’s the easiest thing in the world — and slowly, impossibly, you begin to let him.

Masterlist

The first time you cried in front of Lando, it was over something stupid.

At least, that’s what you told him.

It had been a long day. One of those heavy, dragging ones where everything feels just slightly off. You got the wrong coffee order. Your boss snapped at you. Someone bumped into you on the train and didn’t say sorry. Nothing huge, nothing tragic — just little paper cuts you’d bled from quietly.

And then you got home, and there they were.

Peonies. Your favorite.

A bouquet in your favorite color, sitting in a glass vase on the kitchen counter. No note. No announcement. Just waiting.

You stared at them like they might disappear if you blinked.

And when Lando came in from the other room — curls damp from a shower, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows — and smiled at you like you mattered, you burst into tears.

He crossed the room in seconds. “Hey—hey, love, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head. Covered your face. You didn’t want him to see. You didn’t want to ruin the moment. You didn’t want to need this as badly as you did.

But he didn’t get frustrated. He didn’t sigh, or say you were being dramatic, or ask if you were hormonal.

He just wrapped his arms around you, warm and firm, and said softly:

“I’ll get you flowers every day if it means you cry like this less.”

You laughed — wet and broken — into his chest.

You’d never been loved like this before.

Not gently.

Not without earning it first.

You try not to talk about your past much. It’s messy. It makes people uncomfortable.

But Lando notices things.

He notices how you flinch a little when he raises his voice — even if it’s just from laughing too loudly.

He notices how you apologize three times for interrupting him, even when you didn’t.

He notices how you never ask him for help, even when you’re clearly overwhelmed.

And worst of all, he notices how surprised you look every time he does something thoughtful.

“Stop acting like I brought you the moon,” he says once, when you gasp at the takeout he brought after your long shift.

You smile tightly. “Sorry. I’m just not used to this.”

“To being fed?”

“To being… seen.”

He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t look away.

Instead, he cups your jaw, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “Then get used to it, love. ‘Cause I’m not going anywhere.”

He starts taking photos of you when you’re not looking.

You notice it one morning, scrolling through his phone while he’s in the shower. A whole album labeled with your initials — filled with candids.

You sipping coffee on the balcony. You in one of his hoodies, asleep on the couch. You laughing at something off-camera, head thrown back, eyes bright.

You look beautiful in all of them.

You don't recognize yourself.

When he comes back in, towel around his shoulders, he sees you looking.

Your voice is small. “You keep pictures of me?”

Lando blinks, confused. “Course I do.”

You set the phone down like it might burn you. “I just… no one’s ever done that before.”

He crosses the room. Presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Then they were idiots.”

One night, weeks later, you break.

Not in the loud, dramatic way. Not like glass shattering. More like a hairline crack that finally gives way under pressure.

You’re lying in bed, curled into his side, his fingers playing absentmindedly with yours. Everything should feel perfect. Safe.

And still, you ask:

“Why do you love me?”

Lando’s hand stills.

You almost wish you could swallow the question back down. But it’s out there now. Ugly and trembling and raw.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “Forget I said anything.”

“No,” he says, firm. “Don’t do that.”

You can’t look at him. “I just don’t get it. I’m a mess. I’m anxious. I second-guess everything. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be—”

“Stop.”

His voice is low, but not angry. Just steady.

He tilts your chin so you have to meet his eyes.

“I don’t love you in spite of those things. I love you because of who you are.”

You blink, throat tight.

“I love that you care too much. That you remember the name of every mechanic on my team. That you leave me little notes when I travel. That you’re still soft after everything life’s thrown at you.” He swallows. “I love you. Full stop. No conditions. No fine print.”

You’re crying again.

This time, you don’t try to hide it.

And when he kisses you, slow and reverent, you let yourself believe — just for a second — that maybe you’re not too hard to love after all.

You stop apologizing so much.

You start texting him first.

You let him buy you flowers without flinching.

You even let him take a photo of you on your bad hair day, after whining for a full ten minutes about how awful you look.

(He posts it anyway — captioned, “Cutest human alive, don’t fight me.”)

And when he tells you he loves you — casually, easily, every day — you finally start saying it back without fear.

Because he never makes you earn it.

Because he says it like it’s your name.

Because he means it.

Later that night, you’re tucked into the passenger seat of Lando’s car, the city lights flickering past like fireflies. His hoodie swallows you whole — sleeves too long, hood up, wrapped around you like a second skin — and your legs are folded beneath you, socked toes pressed to the leather seat.

The radio’s playing softly. Something nostalgic. His hand finds yours without looking.

He does that now — reaches for you without needing to think.

And you let him.

Your fingers settle into the spaces between his, perfectly matched. His thumb rubs gently across your knuckles, slow and soothing. You watch the motion like it might slip away if you blink.

“I think I’m starting to believe you,” you say after a long stretch of silence.

His eyes flick to you, quick and warm. “Believe what?”

“That you love me.”

The smile that blooms across his face isn’t wide or showy. It’s quiet. Soft. Reverent, almost. Like he’s been waiting to hear that from you.

“I’ve never said anything truer,” he murmurs.

You turn your head, studying him in the warm dashboard glow. One hand on the wheel. One hand in yours. The same boy who brings you flowers without a reason. Who kisses your shoulder in passing. Who sees you.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you whisper, voice barely a breath.

Lando squeezes your hand. “You don’t have to do anything, love. You deserve it just by being you.”

You blink fast, throat catching. He doesn’t look away.

“Let me keep showing you, yeah?”

You nod, heart thudding hard. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in your entire life, you believe it.

A/N: i really loved writing this, felt very healing (I need therapy lmao) anyways please send me requests! I love reading yall's ideas! also feel free to ask me any questions if you want hehe :)

[rebelliousneferut]

Puppy surprise

Summary- you surprise Lando with a puppy

(This was meant to be a short blurb but turned into 1.5k words)

When your whole TikTok and Instagram page was full of just puppies and dogs, you knew it was a sign. You had been in contact with a golden retriever dog breeder for a while now, and when she messaged you saying that there was a puppy available, you knew you couldn't pass up the opportunity. 

So while Max and Lando were streaming together, you and Pietra went on a 'girls day', but really you two were picking up a puppy and supplies.  Lando had no idea what was coming. You walked into his streaming room just as the boys were loading into their game. Max spotted you first and grinned through the webcam. "Oi oi, look who it is!"

"Hey babe, I'm heading out", you said, standing by the door of his gaming room "Okay, love, have fun, be safe. I love you," Lando cooed, taking off his headset and standing up to give you a kiss "I love you too," you murmured into his lips. You grabbed your phone and wallet, and grabbed your set of keys before making your way down to the parking garage

You were nervous about Landos' reaction, but you both have been talking about getting a fur baby for a while now, but it was never the right time until now. It was a two-hour drive to the lady's house, and you and Pietra did a car karaoke session, which helped calm your nerves. You made sure to get cash out before arriving.  

When you finally arrive, the breeder leads you into a sunlit backyard where a few playful golden retriever puppies tumble around. "Ready to become a dog mom?" Pietra beams. "As I’ll ever be." You whispered back But the moment your eyes land on him, you know. He’s clumsy, soft, and the tiniest bit fluffier than the rest, stumbling over his own paws and flopping into a pile of grass like it’s a mattress. 

You kneel down, and he immediately waddles over and begins chewing on your shoelaces. "This is the one,"  you whisper to Pietra, and she just smiles knowingly. You had already withdrawn the cash, so within ten minutes, the paperwork’s done, the leash is clipped on, and your heart is pounding with joy and nerves all over again. You wanted Landos' input on his name, so for right now, you and Pietra just went with 'bubs' 

You handed Pietra your car keys, you sat in the passenger seat with bubs in your lap on top of a puppy pee pad just incase he had any accidents, Pietra sat in the drivers seat, eyes on the road but at every stop light she would quickly glance down at the puppy you were holding. You made a quick stop on the way home to pick up food, toys and everything you need for a puppy, you made sure to use your card so Lando doesn't get suspicious as to why his card was used at a pet shop. 

As you were about 20 minutes away from the apartment, Lando started calling you, because your phone was connected to the car, so his contact name came up on the screen. You and Pietra immediately turned to each other, eyes wide like two teenagers caught sneaking out past curfew. "Oh no," she whispered. "Abort mission?"

"Nope, too late," you muttered, reaching over and tapping the answer button on the steering wheel. If you ignored the call, he’d definitely get suspicious, and probably call again, or worse, track you down on Find My iPhone.

"Hey Love" Lando said his voice now filling the car smooth and casual, but you could hear the faint clatter of buttons in the background, he was still streaming. "You good? You’ve been gone for a while. Thought spa days were supposed to be relaxing, not five hours long." You glanced down at your little fur baby in your lap who was now chewing on the sleeve of your hoodie 

"Hey, babe," you replied, trying to sound as calm as possible. "Yeah, it’s been a long day. We, uh, got a little sidetracked. You know, typical girls’ day." Pietra bit her lip to keep from laughing. There was a pause. You could hear Max in the background saying something about "Lando’s in his clingy boyfriend era," followed by the sound of Lando swatting him or chucking something in retaliation.

"Just checking," Lando said eventually, and you could tell he was trying not to sound too clingy. "I miss you." Your heart softened. God, you hoped he was ready for this. "I miss you too," you said, scratching behind Bubs ears as he settled against your chest. "We’ll be home soon, okay?" "Okay. I’ll probably still be on stream when you get back," Lando said. "So just come say hi when you’re in." You smiled. "Will do. Love you."

"Love you more." You ended the call and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Pietra immediately turned to you, eyes wide. "Okay, that was close," she said. You laughed and nodded your head, once you got the street of the apartment you quickly swapped spots with Pietra as she didn't trust herself parking your car next to Landos very expensive car collection 

"You giving anutie kisses baby" you cooed grinning as his tiny tail wagged so hard it looked like it might fall off. Pietra giggled, tilting her head so he could get her jawline too. "I can’t believe how obsessed I already am with him. We’re gonna need a group custody agreement." You gently pulled the car into the garage, carefully navigating around Lando’s prized lineup of vehicles, holding your breath until you were safely parked in your usual spot. 

The second the engine turned off, Bub let out a soft yap, as if even he knew something big was about to happen. "Alright, little man," you whispered, scooping him up into your arms and placing a gentle kiss to the top of his fluffy head. "Time to meet your dad."

Pietra grabbed the bags from the backseat, whispering, "God, I feel like I’m in a heist movie." You glanced at her over your shoulder. "Yeah, and the priceless treasure is a six-pound ball of fluff." 

You made your way up to Landos apartment, your nervs growing more and more with ever step you took, you opened the door and heard yelling from the hallway which meant they were still on stream, you held your baby closed to your chest as you made your way to the streaming room 

"Alright bub lets go meet your dad and your crazy uncle" You whispered before giving him a kiss, Pietra was following behind you with you phone opened so that you could record the moment, "Hey" You said poking your head in the doorway making sure only your head was seen, Lando turned his chair towards you and gave you a small wave "Don’t be mad, but I need both of you to close your eyes." You let out, hoping not to sound suspicious 

Both of them blinked in confusion. Max raised an eyebrow while Lando sat up a little straighter, narrowing his eyes like he could sniff out trouble. "What did you do?" he asked suspiciously, one hand still on the keyboard  "Nothing bad," you replied with a tight smile. "Just please. Trust me." Lando glanced at Max, who just shrugged. "Might as well," Max muttered. "It’s always something with you two."

Reluctantly, both of them closed their eyes. You walked in the room now visible to the stream, you lifted one of bubs paws moving it up and down slightly to give chat a wave, you stepped closer to Lando gently placing the small bundle of fluff in his hands "You didn’t" Lando whispered, voice suddenly raw, His eyes snapped opened, He stared down at the golden retriever puppy in his hands, completely still except for the tiny tail wagging against his arm.

"Oh my god" Lando let out in pure shock, Max got the memo that he could open his eyes, and when he did his eyes fell onto the puppy that was now in Landos hold "OH MY GOD NO WAY" Max yelled in shock, Lando looked up at you, his eyes glassy, mouth hanging open. Lando was speechless, he looked down at the puppy, then at you and then back to the puppy 

"He doesn't have a name yet, I thought you would like to have the honor of naming our son" You beemed, you and Lando both fell into your own little bubble of different names and Lando telling you how much he loves you, while Max was incharge of reading out the chat which mainly consisted of "Omgs" "Lando looks like hes gonna cry" and "congratulations"  

"Welcome home, little man." Lando whispered 

Liked by @.georgerussell63 @.oscarpiastri and others

@.Y/n & @.Landonorris Welcome home, little man 🤍🐶

Tagged @.(you decide his name)

view comments

@.mclaren We’re proud to welcome our newest (and cutest) team member 🧡🐾

@.User I WAS WATCHING LIVE WHEN IT HAPPENED AND I SOBBED REAL TEARS

@.lewishamilton Welcome to the dog dad club, bro 🐶🤍

@.oscarpiastri so when are you bring him to the paddock?

→ @.Y/n soon don't you worry osc

@.maxfewtrell i am still recovering emotionally. Look at that dog. LOOK AT HIM.

@.F1 If he accidentally goes missing it wasn't us 🫣

→@.User admin is just saying what we are all thinking

please reblog and like 🫶

*I do not own these photos they were found on pinterest