#formula 1 × female reader

[rubywillkins]

Lando Norris| Last Stop, First Touch

Pairing Lando Norris × fem reader

Warning smut, kinda rough

It was just past midnight when Y/N boarded the near-empty train, her coat wrapped tight around her as she settled into a quiet corner seat. The city had started to hush, and with nothing but the hum of the rails beneath her and the soft flickering light above, she slipped into her book, trying to lose herself in the pages.

Except she wasn’t alone.

Across the aisle, a man lounged with a lazy elegance that could only belong to someone entirely too confident for his own good. Lando—tall, curly-haired, and British to the bone—sat with one leg stretched out, arms crossed, and an amused glint in his eye. He hadn’t looked away since she sat down.

"You know you're not really reading that," he said suddenly, in a voice that melted like whiskey. "You’ve been on the same page for... five stops now."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, lifting her gaze over the rim of her book. “And you've been counting stops how exactly? You been watching me this whole time?”

He smirked. “Can you blame me?”

She rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Maybe I’m just savoring this page.”

“Or maybe you’re just pretending to read to avoid looking at me,” he said, leaning in slightly, his accent softening the tease into something flirtatious. “It’s alright. I won’t take it personally. Happens more often than you’d think.”

“Oh, does it now?”

He grinned. “All the time. Strangers pretending not to notice me on trains. It’s tragic, really.”

She shut the book with a playful snap. “Well, now I’m not pretending.”

“Good,” he said, eyes glinting. “You’ve got a great smile. Be a shame to hide it behind paper.”

There was a charged pause. The train rocked gently, the fluorescent lights humming above them, empty seats all around—yet the air felt thick between them. Y/N tilted her head.

“And what exactly were *you* doing, then?” she asked. “If I was pretending to read, you were... what? Meditating while staring directly at me?”

“Observing,” he said. “Studying a very intriguing subject. You.”

“Wow. You do this often?”

“Only when fate sits someone interesting across from me.”

She laughed, and he leaned forward, elbows on knees now. “Come with me.”

“What?”

He nodded, lips quirking up. “Come with me. Let’s get off at the next stop. My place is not far. Wine, records, better lighting than this hellhole.”

She blinked. “You’re inviting a stranger to your apartment?”

“Only because I’ve decided you’re not a murderer,” he said lightly. “And because... I don’t want the conversation to end here.”

She hesitated, biting her lip. “I just met you.”

“You just met me and haven’t looked away since page forty-two,” he said, tapping the cover of her book with a wink. “Come on. Let’s see where the night takes us.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You're insane.”

“And you’re curious.”

Another pause. The train slowed, the announcer muttered something unintelligible over the speaker.

Y/N stood. So did Lando.

“At least tell me your name before I regret this,” she said as they stepped off into the night.

“Lando,” he said, hand brushing hers. “And you, darling?”

She told him, and he said it like it was poetry. They walked side by side, something electric crackling in the empty city streets. And by the time they reached his door, neither of them were pretending anything at all.

The door slams shut behind them, and he pushes her against the wall, his lips crashing into hers, his hands tearing at her clothes. She moans, her body arching against his, her hands clutching at his shirt, pulling him closer. He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down her neck, his teeth nipping at her skin. She gasps, her head falling back, her body trembling with anticipation.

He lifts her, her legs wrapping around his waist, her arms around his neck. He carries her to the bedroom, his lips never leaving her skin. He lays her on the bed, his body covering hers, his cock pressing against her wet pussy. She moans, her hips grinding against him, her body begging for more.

He kisses her, his tongue exploring her mouth, his hands roaming her body, his fingers teasing her nipples, rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers. She gasps, her body arching against his, her breath hitching in her throat. He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down her neck, his teeth nipping at her skin.

She asks with a pleading sound that’s somewhere between a moan and a breath, her eyes glistening, "Don't make me wait any longer. Please. I need you inside me"

Lando's lips curve into a wicked smile, his eyes darkening with lust. "As you wish, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. He sits back, quickly shedding his shirt, revealing a chiseled torso. Y/N's eyes rake over him, her breath hitching as he unbuckles his belt, the sound echoing in the quiet room. She reaches out, her fingers tracing the waistband of his pants, then sliding lower to cup his erection through the fabric. He groans, his hips jerking forward.

He pushes her hands away, his eyes locked on hers as he slowly unbuttons her blouse, revealing her lace-covered breasts. He leans down, his tongue tracing the edge of her bra, his teeth grazing her nipple through the lace. She squirms, her back arching off the bed, a soft gasp escaping her lips. He repeats the motion on the other side, his hands roaming her body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

She reaches for him, her fingers hooking into his pants, pulling him closer. He obliges, his body covering hers, his cock pressing against her wet heat. He grinds against her, his hips moving in a slow, torturous rhythm, his lips capturing her moan. She writhes beneath him, her body desperate for more, her hands clutching at his shoulders.

He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down her body, his tongue dipping into her navel. He hooks his fingers into her skirt, pulling it down, his lips following the path, his tongue licking a hot trail down her thigh. She shivers, her body trembling with anticipation. He hooks his fingers into her panties, pulling them down, his breath hot on her skin. She lifts her hips, helping him, her body aching with need.

He tosses her panties aside, his fingers gently parting her folds, his tongue sweeping up her slit. She gasps, her hips bucking off the bed, her hands fisting the sheets. He laps at her, his tongue circling her clit, his fingers teasing her entrance. She moans, her body writhing, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He sucks her clit into his mouth, his fingers sliding into her, his thumb replacing his tongue, circling her swollen bud. She cries out, her body convulsing as her orgasm rips through her, her juices coating his fingers and chin.

He looks up at her, his chin glistening, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Fuck, you taste incredible," he growls, his fingers never stopping their relentless assault on her senses. She whimpers, her body still trembling from her orgasm, but he shows her no mercy. He crawls up her body, his lips and chin leaving a wet trail on her skin. He kisses her deeply, letting her taste herself on his lips. She moans into his mouth, her hands gripping his shoulders, pulling him closer.

He breaks the kiss, his breath ragged. "I need to be inside you," he grinds out, his voice hoarse with desire. He sits back, quickly shedding his pants, his cock springing free, hard and throbbing. He rolls on a condom, his eyes never leaving hers. She watches him, her body aching with need, her breath hitching in her throat. He settles between her thighs, his cock teasing her entrance. She lifts her hips, trying to impale herself on him, but he holds back, a smirk playing on his lips.

"What do you want, Y/N?" he asks, his voice a low growl. She bucks her hips, trying to force him inside her, but he chuckles, holding back.

"I want you," she gasps, her body writhing beneath him. "I want you inside me. Now."

He grins, his hips surging forward, his cock sliding into her in one smooth stroke. She cries out, her body stretching to accommodate him, her nails digging into his shoulders. He stills, giving her a moment to adjust, his breath ragged. She lifts her hips, urging him to move. He obliges, his hips withdrawing before slamming back into her, his cock filling her completely.

He sets a punishing pace, his hips slamming against hers, his cock hitting all the right spots. She meets his thrusts, her body moving in sync with his, her moans filling the room. He leans down, his lips capturing hers, his tongue mimicking the motion of his hips. She moans into his mouth, her body tightening around him, her orgasm building. He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down her neck, his teeth nipping at her skin. She gasps, her body convulsing as her orgasm rips through her, her juices coating his cock. He groans, his body tensing, his cock pulsing as he finds his release, his body collapsing on top of hers, his breath ragged. She wraps her arms around him, her body still trembling, her heart pounding in her chest.

The city was still asleep when Y/N opened her eyes.

Soft, early morning light filtered through the sheer curtains of Lando’s apartment, casting delicate lines across the crumpled sheets. The warmth of his body lingered beside her, his arm draped loosely over her waist, the faint rhythm of his breathing brushing against her shoulder.

The night replayed in fragments—his hands in her hair, her laugh echoing against his walls, whispered things between skin and lips that blurred the lines between strangers and something else entirely.

She turned slowly, facing him.

He looked different in sleep. Softer. Less cocky. Beautiful in a way that made her chest ache a little.

As if sensing her gaze, his lashes fluttered. One eye opened, then the other. A slow smile spread across his face.

“Mornin’, love,” he murmured, voice raspy with sleep. “Still pretending to read?”

She chuckled, reaching up to brush a lock of hair from his forehead. “Still checking me out?”

He grinned. “Guilty.”

There was silence for a moment, but not the awkward kind. The kind where two people were wrapped in something fleeting yet full. Tender and slightly dangerous, like standing too close to the edge of a perfect view you know you can’t keep.

She stretched, the sheet slipping a little from her bare shoulder. “This wasn’t supposed to feel... cozy.”

“Yeah,” he said softly, studying her. “But it does, doesn’t it?”

Y/N nodded, biting her lip. “You’re not going to ask me to stay, are you?”

Lando propped himself up on one elbow, eyes locked on hers. “No,” he said. “But I will ask you to come back.”

She smiled—half in disbelief, half in want. “You barely know me.”

He reached over and traced a finger gently down her spine. “I know enough. And the rest... I wouldn’t mind reading slowly.”

There it was again—that heat, that pull. But this time it didn’t feel like a one-night stand anymore. It felt like a story that didn’t mind being told in chapters.

And as she got dressed hours later, stealing one last glance at the man who was still watching her like she was a page he wasn’t finished with, Y/N knew one thing for sure.

She’d be back.

Not because he dared her.

But because she wanted to see where this next stop might lead.

[charlotteking27]

The pretty interviewer

Max Verstappen x reader

Summary: You are Max's favorite interviewer...so much that he will not stop flirting with you.

PT2: Pursuing the journalist

Three Races Earlier…

You stand off to the side of the paddock, fiddling with your Sky Sports F1 microphone. As the newest member of the broadcasting team, you typically handle the less significant interviews, while the veteran reporters get to speak with drivers like Max Verstappen. Today, you're set to interview one of the midfield teams.

The buzz in the paddock suddenly grows as Max comes out of the Red Bull garage after his stunning pole position. A crowd of reporters quickly surrounds him, microphones pushed forward, voices overlapping with "Max! Max, a moment, please!"

You watch from your quiet spot while he walks past them, his expression neutral and barely acknowledging them. This scene is familiar. Max is known for being choosy with the media and often speaks only to a select few senior reporters.

That’s why your heart skips a beat when his eyes suddenly turn to you. His face brightens with a smile, and before you realize it, he changes direction and walks confidently toward your corner.

"Sorry," he tells the stunned reporters behind him, not sounding sorry at all. "I'm giving my first interview to her."

You hear your producer’s voice in your earpiece: "Wait, what's happening?"

Max stops right in front of you, that familiar half-smile on his lips. "Hi," he says casually, as if he hasn’t just brushed off every major broadcaster in the paddock.

"I… um…" You struggle to collect your thoughts, acutely aware of the jealous stares from the other reporters. "Hi?"

He laughs softly at your surprise. "You're new, right? I've seen you around. You ask good questions – technical ones. Not just the usual PR stuff."

"I… yes, I started this weekend," you manage to reply, still in shock. "But shouldn't you be talking to—"

"I'm talking to exactly who I want to talk to," he cuts in, his Dutch accent somehow stronger when he speaks softly. "So, would you like to hear about that qualifying lap?"

𐙚

That first interview changed everything. Since then, Max has asked to give you his post-session interviews. Each one became more flirtatious than the last. This brings you to today.

The Red Bull garage looms ahead as you adjust your Sky Sports F1 microphone for the thousandth time. Post-qualifying interviews are routine by now, but nothing about interviewing Max Verstappen has ever felt normal. Especially not since he started doing whatever this is.

"Three minutes," your producer says through your earpiece. You try to focus on your questions, but all you can think of is last week's interview. Max had deliberately held your gaze so long that you forgot the second half of your question.

He emerges from the garage, race suit tied at his waist as usual. Your heart skips a beat as he approaches, wearing that annoying half-smile that makes you forget basic English.

"Max, congratulations on another pole position," you begin professionally.

"Thanks," he interrupts, eyes shining. "I was hoping it would be you interviewing me today."

You feel warmth creeping up your neck. Stay professional, you remind yourself. "That last lap was incredible. How did you find the grip through—"

"The grip was good," he says, leaning slightly closer than necessary. "But you seem a bit nervous today. Everything okay?"

Your producer chuckles in your ear. Traitor.

"I'm perfectly fine," you manage, though your voice comes out higher than you wanted. "About turn three—"

"You're cute when you're flustered," he says quietly, just low enough that the microphone won't catch it. The smirk on his lips tells you he knows exactly what he's doing.

You almost drop your notebook. "I'm trying to conduct an interview here," you whisper back, fighting a smile.

"And I'm trying to ask you out," he counters smoothly before raising his voice back to interview level. "But yes, turn three was tricky today. The crosswind made it challenging."

Your face feels like it's on fire. You're painfully aware of the camera rolling, capturing what must be the most unprofessional blush in F1 broadcasting history.

"Speaking of challenges," Max continues, clearly enjoying himself, "there's this great restaurant in Monaco that's almost impossible to get into. I have a reservation for two tomorrow night if you're interested in discussing race strategy, of course."

You hear your producer choking back laughter. "The interview, Max," you remind him, trying to sound stern despite your racing heart.

"Right, right. The interview." He grins. "But about dinner…"

"Maybe we should finish talking about your qualifying lap first?" You're fighting a losing battle against your smile now.

"Fine," he sighs dramatically, then winks. "But just so you know, I'm going to keep flirting with you until you say yes."

Your producer is practically cackling now. "Best. Interview. Ever," she whispers in your ear.

"The qualifying lap, Max," you insist, but you’re grinning too.

"The qualifying lap," he agrees, finally sitting up straight and attempting to look serious. "But I should warn you, I'm very persistent. Almost as persistent as I am on track."

You shake your head, trying to remember your questions through the butterfly storm in your stomach. One thing's for sure—this interview is definitely going viral on F1 Twitter.

And maybe, just maybe, you'll say yes to that dinner in Monaco.

𐙚

You barely remember how you finished that interview. Your mind is still spinning from Max's dinner invitation. But the real chaos is just starting.

Your notifications have not stopped buzzing since that interview aired. #MaxAndTheReporter is trending on Twitter, and F1 TikTok is having a field day with edited clips of every moment you and Max shared during the past three races.

"OMG THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER," says one viral tweet, featuring a slow-motion clip of Max's eyes softening when he sees you in the paddock.

"Remember when Max used to HATE interviews? Now he’s literally running to them. #MaxAndTheReporter." This tweet includes a side-by-side comparison of his usual stern media face and his smile when he approaches you.

Your producer sends you a link to a fan-made compilation video titled "Every time Max Verstappen has flirted with the Sky Sports reporter (so far)." It has already gathered 2 million views.

Not everyone is convinced. "She's just another reporter," one skeptic tweets. "Max is probably just being nice."

That theory gets blown away during the next race weekend. You're interviewing Carlos Sainz when Max casually walks by. He does such an obvious double-take that Carlos starts laughing mid-answer.

"I think someone wants to interrupt this interview," Carlos teases, watching Max hover nearby with barely hidden impatience.

"He can wait his turn," you respond professionally, though your cheeks warm when you hear Max chuckle behind you.

"Can I?" Max calls out. "Because I'm pretty sure my dinner reservation is in an hour, and someone still hasn't given me an answer."

Carlos raises his eyebrows and grins. "Ah, so the rumors are true?"

Your producer's voice crackles through your earpiece: "The social media is going absolutely crazy right now. This is better than Drive to Survive!"

Later that evening, a photo appears of you and Max at a hard-to-get-into restaurant in Monaco. He is looking at you instead of the camera, with that soft smile on his face that F1 Twitter has named the "reporter smile." Fan theories start to explode:

"HE REALLY TOOK HER TO DINNER, I'M SCREAMING." "The way he only smiles like that for her.❤️" "Remember when we thought Max would never date someone in the F1 media? This man really said 'Watch me."

Your phone buzzes with a text from Max: "Have you seen we’re trending again?"

You reply with an eye roll, trying to ignore the butterflies that haven't settled since that first interview.

"Good," he responds. "Maybe now everyone knows why I only want interviews with you."

Your producer sends you a message: "Just wait until they see tomorrow's pre-race interview. The internet might actually break."

You smile, thinking about how a simple paddock interview three races ago changed everything. From a reluctant interviewee to whatever this is becoming, Max Verstappen has definitely kept his promise about being persistent.

And honestly? You wouldn't have it any other way.

[theonottsbxtch]

NO BABYSITTER NEEDED | LN4

an: i have this delusion that i could 100% change his bad habits because i work as a personal assistant and have experience in childcare. so enjoy this. also if you struggle with mental health, always know im here to talk <3

summary: lando norris, f1 golden boy who hasn’t slept properly in months and lives off protein bars gets assigned a carer by max who reminds him to eat, sleep, and maybe feel something other than anger or guilt. she brings flowers into his sterile flat and hides his gym clothes so he’ll actually rest and he lets her. and somewhere between her gummy vitamins and his races, he realises he doesn’t just need her, he wants her too.

wc: 10k

“ABSOLUTLEY NOT.”

Lando stood in the middle of his sparsely furnished flat, arms folded, jaw tight. The overhead light flickered once, as if in protest too. Max, seated on the battered grey sofa with a cup of tea he’d made himself, simply raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve not eaten today, have you?”

“I had a protein bar.”

“That doesn’t count, mate.”

Lando’s eyes flicked to the side. He knew Max was right. The protein bar had been from the stash he kept in his gym bag, a dry, tasteless thing that barely passed as food. Still, admitting that would mean giving ground, and he wasn’t in the mood.

“I don’t need a bloody babysitter,” he muttered, tugging at the hem of his hoodie. “I’m not eighty-five.”

Max sighed, setting down his tea with the sort of calm that only long-suffering best mates could master. “She’s not a babysitter. She’s… a carer. Technically.”

“Oh, brilliant. Even worse.”

The silence that settled wasn’t comfortable. Outside, the steady hum of Monaco traffic drifted through the slightly ajar window. Somewhere below, someone shouted about bin day. Lando raked a hand through his curly brown hair and paced towards the kitchen. Max didn’t need to follow him to know what he’d find.

The fridge opened with a creak. Lando grimaced. A carton of milk two weeks out of date. Half a wilted bag of spinach. One lonely caprisun.

“See?” Max called from the living room. “You need someone to help.”

Lando shut the fridge, harder than he needed to. “I’m not broken.”

“I didn’t say you were. But you’re not exactly in one piece either.”

That one landed. He leaned against the counter, exhaling slowly. His eyes were tired, darker than usual, with the tell-tale puffiness that came from pushing through sleepless nights. After a bad race, it was always the same: the silence, the self-punishment, the long hours in the gym until his arms shook, or the empty buzz of late-night gaming until sunrise blurred into morning.

Lando wasn’t cruel, not to others. But he was brutal to himself.

Max stepped into the kitchen, soft-footed. He opened the cupboard, plucked a cereal bar, and tossed it to Lando. “Just give her a week. One week. If it’s hell, I’ll back off. You can go back to forgetting to eat and dying slowly. Deal?”

Lando caught the bar, didn’t unwrap it. He stared at it like it might explode. After a long moment, he gave a non-committal grunt.

“Fine,” he said at last, eyes flicking up. “But just a week.”

The doorbell rang at exactly ten o'clock.

Lando was on the sofa, one leg slung over the other, arms crossed, face unreadable. He hadn't shaved that morning. Or the one before, probably. Max, already halfway to the door, shot him a look.

“Try to smile, yeah?” he muttered.

Lando didn't answer. Max opened the door.

“Hiya,” came a warm, bright voice. “Sorry, I wasn’t sure which buzzer it was. I guessed.”

“You guessed right.” Max smiled, stepping aside. “Come in.”

She stepped over the threshold with a kind of lightness Lando noticed but didn’t comment on. Trainers, jeans, a canvas bag slung over one shoulder. She didn’t look like a carer, whatever that meant. But then again, what did he expect? A clipboard and scrubs?

Her eyes flicked to him on the sofa and lit up with a friendly smile.

“You must be Lando.”

“I must be,” he said, dryly.

Max shot him a warning look. She didn’t seem fazed, though. Just walked in like it wasn’t a battlefield.

“I’m here for the trial week,” she said cheerfully, pulling out a small notebook. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to take over your life. Just nudge it in a slightly healthier direction.”

Lando snorted. “Great. Can’t wait to be nudged.”

Max coughed to hide a laugh.

She sat on the armchair across from him, perching rather than settling, like she didn’t want to assume too much. Lando appreciated that. A bit.

“So,” she said, flipping open the notebook. “What’s your usual routine, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Train. Race. Gym. Repeat.”

“And food?”

He shrugged. “When I remember.”

“Sleep?”

Another shrug. “When I can.”

She smiled, scribbling something down. “Right. Noted.”

Lando tilted his head. “You’re very… upbeat.”

“Would you rather I was miserable?”

“No, just…” He waved a vague hand. “You’re in a flat with a stranger who clearly doesn’t want you here. I’d be a bit put off.”

“Well,” she said, closing the notebook, “I’m not easily put off. And you don’t scare me.”

That surprised a breath of laughter out of him, more exhale than anything, but it was the closest he’d come to smiling in days. Max looked between them, pleased.

“She’s good,” he said to Lando. “Give her a day. You’ll be grateful by tonight.”

Lando leaned his head back on the sofa, eyes half-closing. “We’ll see.”

She stood up. “I’ll pop to the shop, then. I’m sure the fridge is crying for help.”

Max dug into his pocket, handed her twenty euros. “Get whatever you think he won’t argue about eating.”

“Right,” she grinned. “Crisps and biscuits, got it.”

She left with a wink. Lando opened one eye, watching her go. Max gave him a look that was both smug and fond.

“You like her.”

Lando didn’t reply.

But he didn’t protest, either.

He didn’t last long after Max left.

He didn’t announce it, didn’t say goodbye, just grabbed his keys, mumbled something about “needing air” and left her alone in the flat. It wasn’t meant to be rude, not really. He just didn’t know what to do with her being there, so full of smiles and softness and trying. It made his skin itch in a way he couldn’t explain.

So, he went to the gym. Again. Even though his arms still ached from last night. Even though he’d barely slept. He didn’t care. Pushing himself until the edges blurred was easier than sitting in silence with a stranger who was supposed to fix what he wouldn’t admit was broken.

He stayed out longer than he planned. Took the long way home. Wandered a bit, hoodie pulled up, sunglasses on despite the fading light. He even stopped off at the corner shop and bought a bottle of water he didn’t want, just to delay the inevitable.

But eventually, the sun started dipping below the Monegasque skyline, and he had no more excuses.

When he opened the door, he paused.

The flat looked different.

Not massively, not like she’d moved furniture or painted walls, but nicer. The blinds had been tugged all the way open, letting the warm orange light of evening spill in. The windows had been cracked open too, letting out the stuffy, lived-in gym-sweat air he’d become nose-blind to. On the kitchen counter sat a small bunch of flowers in an old pint glass, cheap daffodils, probably from the shop down the road, bright yellow and unapologetically cheerful.

And she was cooking.

He blinked.

She hadn’t heard him come in. She had music playing quietly from her phone and she was humming under her breath as she stirred something on the hob. She’d tied her hair up, sleeves rolled, apron on that definitely wasn’t his.

He hovered at the doorway like a ghost.

“I won’t eat fish,” he said, voice flat.

She jumped slightly, then turned to him with a grin, unbothered. “Good thing I’m not making fish then.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“I know,” she added, casually flipping something in the pan. “And you don’t like raw tomatoes. Or coconut. Or mushrooms unless they’re chopped so small you can’t see them. I did my homework.”

He folded his arms, suspicious despite himself. “Homework?”

“Max told me what he could, and the rest I found in old interviews. You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

He had no idea what to do with that. “Right.”

She nodded towards the side counter. “There are some vitamins over there if you fancy. They’re the gummy ones, so they’re fun to eat.”

Lando turned his head slightly. Sure enough, there was a bottle of multivitamin gummies sitting next to a clean glass of water. He squinted at it like it might bite.

“You think that’s going to fix me?”

“Nope,” she said, flipping off the hob and plating something. “But you’ll taste strawberry and get a vitamin boost, and that’s two good things. Two’s better than none.”

He watched her carry the plate to the table, proper food, he realised. Real stuff. A bit of grilled chicken, roasted potatoes, some sort of green that didn’t look like it came from a packet. She’d even set out cutlery.

“I didn’t ask for this,” he muttered, but his voice had less edge than before.

“No, but your fridge did. Loudly.” She smiled. “Sit down, Lando.”

It was the first time she’d said his name. It startled him, how easily it came out of her mouth, no weight, no judgement, just lightness.

He didn’t move right away. But the flat smelled warm for the first time in… he didn’t know how long. It smelled like food, and flowers, and something gentle he couldn’t place.

Eventually, he sat.

And he took the bloody vitamin.

He started eating without saying much, though to be fair, the food shut him up quickly. It was annoyingly good. Not fancy, not trying too hard, just cooked well. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was until the first bite, and now his fork barely paused between mouthfuls.

While he ate, she moved around the kitchen, wiping down surfaces that were already pretty clean, rinsing the chopping board, putting away the little packet of daffodils that had come with the flowers. She was humming again, soft and almost tuneless, like it was more for her than anything else.

He watched her from the corner of his eye.

After a few minutes, he frowned.

“What about you?” he said, voice low. “Are you not going to eat?”

She looked up from where she was drying a mug. “I eat after work.”

He stopped chewing. “That’s weird.”

She laughed, not offended. “Not really. I’m used to it. I don’t like eating in other people’s homes unless I’m invited to.”

“Well… I’m inviting you now.”

Her eyes softened a little. “Thanks. But I’m alright, honestly.”

He stabbed a bit of potato. “Can you at least sit? You’re making me feel like I’m in a restaurant.”

That seemed to surprise her. She blinked, then nodded, pulling out the chair opposite him.

“You’re on edge,” she said gently, not like she was accusing him, just stating it.

He didn’t deny it.

She leaned back in the chair, folding her hands on the table, not trying to fill the silence with too much. Just being there. He hated how much of a relief that was.

After a beat, she tilted her head. “So… do you actually enjoy racing? Or is it just something you’re brilliant at?”

He looked up, fork halfway to his mouth.

“No one’s ever asked it like that before.”

She smiled. “Well, everyone knows you’re brilliant at it. But enjoying it that’s something else.”

He chewed, swallowed, shrugged. “I used to. When I was a kid. I’d sit in front of the telly with my dad and pretend I could hear the engines. I used to think the drivers were invincible.”

Her smile didn’t fade, but it did soften into something more thoughtful. “And now?”

“Now I know they’re not,” he said simply. “Now I know I’m not.”

She didn’t say anything to that. Didn’t rush to fix it or tell him he was, in fact, invincible. Just let it sit there.

He liked that more than he expected.

“You know,” she said after a quiet moment, “I watched last year's Brazil race before I came. The one where it rained.”

Lando rolled his eyes. “That bloody race.”

He didn't think of it fondly, until she spoke again.

“You made that turn like it was nothing. Everyone else looked like they were wrestling their cars, and you just… glided.”

He looked at her properly for the first time that evening. “You watched it for research?”

She nodded. “Had to see what I was dealing with.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re very strange.”

“Thank you,” she grinned. “I take that as a compliment.”

He picked up the glass of water next to his empty plate, holding it in both hands. He didn’t know how to name the feeling in his chest, tight and loose at once. Like something had shifted half a centimetre to the right.

He didn’t say thank you.

But he didn’t ask her to leave, either.

The flat had gone quiet again and before he knew it, he’d finished his food and she’d taken the plate.

Lando sat there a while after she’d gone to tidy up again, not quite ready to move. His limbs were warm and heavy with food, his stomach full for the first time in, God, he couldn’t remember. The corner of his eye still caught the flash of yellow from the daffodils. Even the clutter on the coffee table had been gently rearranged, like someone had lived here instead of just existed in it.

He stood eventually, dragging a hand through his hair.

He didn’t say goodnight. But as he passed her, kneeling to organise something ridiculous like the cereal cupboard, he gave her a small nod.

“Night,” she said softly, like she knew he wouldn’t say it first.

By the time he got to his room, he felt it creeping in, the kind of sleep that didn’t come with punishment. Not exhaustion, not collapse. Just rest.

He changed half-heartedly, dropped into bed without bothering to pull the duvet straight.

And for the first time in what felt like months, he didn’t lie there for hours staring at the ceiling.

He didn’t toss or turn or drag himself back up to check his phone, or throw on joggers and go for another run he didn’t need.

He just closed his eyes.

And slept.

Deep. Still. Undisturbed.

He was that comfortable with his sleep he hadn’t even heard her leave.

The trial week came and went, and with that came his little scheduled meeting with Max.

“So,” Max said, leaning back in the café chair, hands wrapped around his coffee. “How’s life with Mary Poppins?”

Lando rolled his eyes, sipping slowly from a mug of hot chocolate that was somehow still hot.

“She doesn’t float in with a brolly, if that’s what you mean.”

“But she’s working, isn’t she?”

Lando didn’t answer straight away. He watched a dog trot past outside the window, nose down, tail wagging. The streets of Monte Carlo were busy with the usual Sunday bustle, people with tote bags full of veg, couples bickering gently over directions, someone playing guitar near the kerb.

He shrugged. “It’s less shit.”

Max smirked. “That’s the highest praise I’ve ever heard you give anyone.”

Lando looked down into his tea. “She’s just easy to be around. Doesn’t treat me like I’m a problem. Or fragile. She just makes dinner and talks about stupid things and leaves vitamins on the counter like it’s no big deal.”

“And you like that?”

“I don’t not like it.”

Max grinned. “So you’re keeping her?”

Lando huffed. “She’s not a goldfish.”

“You know what I mean.”

He didn’t answer at first, and Max let him have the space. There was something behind Lando’s eyes, quieter than before, but still guarded. Except now, the edges weren’t quite so sharp. He looked a little less hollowed out. A little more present.

Lando stirred the drink absently, then said, “I think she’s staying another week.”

Max didn’t say I told you so, but he smiled like he’d already said it a hundred times.

Over the next week, a rhythm began to form.

It wasn’t a schedule, exactly, Lando hated those, but there were now patterns. Gentle ones. He’d wake up to the faint clatter of pans and the smell of food. She never made him breakfast outright, but there was always a plate of something on the side, covered with a tea towel, like it had just happened to be left there.

He’d find his gym gear washed and folded in the same place on the sofa each morning. Not spoken about, just done. Vitamins still by the sink. Her music always low. The flowers in the pint glass had been swapped out for fresh tulips.

He didn’t say thank you. But he noticed.

And he started sleeping better.

Not every night, but more than before. Enough that the dark under his eyes wasn’t as heavy. Enough that the fridge had actual food in it now, and it wasn’t all hers.

By Monday night, she was packing up her bag to go home like usual when he spoke up.

“I leave for Barcelona tomorrow.”

She looked up, bright as ever. “Yup, I know. Made you an airport snack.”

She reached into the fridge and pulled out a tupperware container, sliding it across the counter towards him. The lid was already labelled in biro, ‘Do not open until bored at terminal gate’.

He raised an eyebrow. “You know I fly private, right? They’ve got catering.”

She didn’t miss a beat. “And what are the odds you didn’t reply to the email asking about your dietary preferences?”

He paused.

She grinned.

“Thought so. It’s just a wrap and some fruit. No tomatoes, no weird mayo, no drama.”

He huffed, but he didn’t push it. He picked it up and tucked it under one arm.

“Oh, and,” she added, wiping her hands on a tea towel, “I put a few things on your bed. Clothes you might consider packing. You don’t have to. Just thought I’d save you standing in your pants tomorrow morning wondering what the weather in Barcelona will be, and yes I know you like to dress warm.”

He let out a proper laugh, low and unexpected.

“You’ve done two of my most hated tasks in one night,” he said, eyes warm for a moment. “That’s impressive.”

She shrugged, light as always. “It’s what I’m here for.”

He stood in the doorway, still holding the tupperware, gaze lingering on her longer than he meant to. She didn’t make anything of it, just smiled and went back to packing her bag.

Race weekends were always a blur.

Even after years of doing it, Lando never really adjusted. The heat, the noise, the cameras, the pressure. Spain in May was dry and heavy, the kind of heat that sat on your shoulders and made your helmet feel three sizes too small. Qualifying had been a disaster, traffic, a lock-up, something just off with the rear grip. He was starting further back than he liked. Further back than the car deserved.

He hadn’t spoken to anyone on the cool-down lap.

His engineer had been cautious over the radio, Max had texted a brief ‘rough one. you’ll fix it.’ and that was about it. Lando stayed in his suit too long, helmet off but gloves still on, sitting at the back of the garage with his jaw clenched and a bottle of water sweating in his hand.

Later, after media duties and a cold shower and a half-hearted poke at some pasta, he was lying on the hotel bed, one leg still on the floor, staring at the ceiling when his phone buzzed.

He glanced at it out of habit.

It was a photo.

She was in a little French bar somewhere, low lights, strings of flags, telly mounted high on the wall with the F1 coverage paused mid-graphic. He recognised his own face in the corner, frozen mid-interview. She was holding up a pint of something cloudy, face half in frame, smiling like she’d just bumped into an old mate. A bowl of crisps sat in front of her.

The caption followed a second later:

That quali looked tough. Make sure to have enough electrolytes or a banana. 

Lando stared at it for longer than he meant to. Something tugged at the corner of his mouth.

She hadn’t asked how he was.

Hadn’t said you’ll get them tomorrow or you’re still the best or any of the usual platitudes.

Just, looked tough, take care of yourself.

Simple. Uncomplicated.

He let out a small breath of something that might have been a laugh. His thumb hovered over the screen for a second, then tapped out a reply.

They only gave us oranges.

A few seconds passed.

That’s alright. Oranges are just citrusy bananas in disguise.

He shook his head, grinning now, properly.

There was still noise in his chest, frustration, the echo of tyres locking up, but it didn’t feel quite so loud anymore.

And for the first time after a bad Saturday, Lando didn’t feel like running from it.

The flight back to Monaco was uneventful. He slept for half of it, sprawled inelegantly in the reclined seat, his cap pulled low and earphones in with no music playing. His body was tired in that hollow, post-race way, blood still buzzing faintly, muscles tight, but his brain was quieter than usual.

P2 wasn’t bad. Not a win, but solid points. Still, it ate at him.

He arrived home just after midnight. The flat was dark, blinds drawn, the sea outside nothing but soft black noise.

Lando dumped his bag by the door and kicked off his shoes. It should have felt like relief, home, bed, no media duties, but it didn’t. It felt still.

He flicked on the light in the kitchen, expecting nothing.

Instead, there it was on the counter.

A piece of white printer paper, creased slightly down the middle, folded like a school certificate. Hand-drawn, with glitter gel pen of all things.

P2 – WELL DONE, CHAMPION 

Underneath, in all-caps block letters, it read:

REDEEM THIS FOR 1 (ONE) FAVOURITE CHOCOLATE BAR, TO BE EATEN IMMEDIATELY.

And there it was. His favourite. Not the obvious one either, the one he used to buy from the corner shop when he was fifteen and couldn’t afford imported Swiss stuff with his pocket money. He hadn’t had one in years.

He picked it up, staring at it like it might disappear.

Beside the certificate was a folded note, written in her loopy handwriting:

I figured you’d want some space after the weekend, so I’m giving you the night off from me.

BUT. Your favourite meal is in the fridge. I expect to see the container empty when I’m back at 7am. I will be checking the bins. I’ve taken the power cable for your PC and hidden your gym clothes, so don’t bother looking. Please sleep. Properly. You’ve earned it x

He read it twice, then once more for good measure.

There was no teasing smile in the room, no hum of music or smell of herbs in the air, but her presence was there, in every corner. Quietly looking after him without needing him to admit he needed it.

He opened the fridge. The meal was there, labelled, still warm enough to be reheated. He didn’t even question how she knew it was his favourite. He just took it out, turned on the oven, and sat at the counter with the chocolate bar already half-eaten.

The flat was silent.

Normally he hated the silence. It stretched and scratched at him until he had to fill it. TV, weights, anything. But tonight it was different.

Tonight, the silence felt... safe. Like something was waiting just out of frame.

And though he’d never say it aloud, not even to himself—

He missed her. Slightly.

Just enough that 7am didn’t feel all that far away.

The first light slipped through the half-open blinds, soft and pale against the dark wood floor.

Lando was already up.

He didn’t mean to be. He’d woken sometime in the small hours, restless, but then the smell of coffee brewing pulled him from the blur of sleep. He found himself in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, the warmth of the oven still humming softly nearby.

The meal was gone. The container clean.

He smiled a little to himself, small victory, at least.

The kettle clicked off, and she appeared in the doorway, hair tied back loosely, eyes bright but gentle.

“Morning,” she said quietly, like she was trying not to wake the flat.

He met her gaze, caught in the calm.

“Morning.”

She reached for the coffee pot and topped up his mug, then poured one for herself.

They stood there for a beat, just the two of them and the quiet hum of the morning.

“Did you sleep?” she asked.

Lando shrugged, but there was something different in his tone. “More than I usually do.”

“That’s good.”

He nodded, watching her move around the kitchen with that effortless ease, putting the chocolate wrapper in the bin, tidying the dishes.

He felt it again. That small, stubborn flicker of something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel before: contentment.

She looked over her shoulder, catching his eye.

“Race weekend’s done,” she said softly. “You’re home now.”

He gave her a crooked smile, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes just yet, but was close.

“Yeah,” he said. “I am.”

She blew on her coffee, then glanced over at him with a curious tilt of her head. 

“So what do you usually do on days like this? After a race?”

Lando paused, mug halfway to his lips.

“Usually?” he said. “Try not to think.”

She gave a small nod, like she understood exactly what he meant. 

“Right,” she said lightly. “So why don’t we go to the beach?”

He blinked. “The beach?”

“Yeah. You know, sand, sea, a bit of fresh air. It’s 27 degrees, the water will be decent. You’ve done all the not thinking bit, now you can do the part where you feel like a person again.”

Lando looked at her like she’d just suggested skydiving. In the rain. Naked.

She met his stare head-on, the corners of her mouth twitching into a smile.

“I’m not saying we have to go swimming,” she added. “Just sit. Maybe with a drink. Or ice cream. I’ll bring snacks if that helps.”

He huffed a small laugh. “You’re relentless.”

“I prefer the term optimistic.”

He glanced out the window. The sun was already climbing, a shimmer of gold across the buildings. Monaco in May didn’t waste time. It was exactly the kind of day he’d usually spend in a dark gym or glued to his screen with a headset on.

And yet.

“Okay,” he said at last, surprising even himself. “Yeah. Sure. Why not.”

Her smile lit up, bright and immediate. “Brilliant.” He turned to head for his room. “I’ll grab my stuff.”

“I’ll meet you back here in thirty,” she said, already halfway out the door. “Just need to pop home, get a few bits.” He nodded. “Alright.”

And then she was gone, the flat felt quieter without her, but not in the lonely way. More like a held breath, waiting.

Lando glanced around, bemused at himself.

The beach. On a Monday.

He shook his head and muttered under his breath, “What am I doing?” 

But he was already reaching for his sunglasses.

When she came back, the sun was even higher in the sky and so was something in Lando’s chest. He’d opened all the windows while she was gone, and the breeze drifting through the flat was warm and salt-tinged.

He heard the door go and turned, halfway through stuffing a towel into a backpack.

She stepped into the kitchen in a light summer dress, sunglasses perched on her head, a bag slung over her shoulder. It was nothing dramatic, just something simple and floral, but it suited her. She looked soft, golden in the sunlight, like she belonged exactly in that moment.

Lando’s brain hiccuped. He didn’t say anything but he looked, really looked, and quietly thought to himself. 

God, she’s pretty.

She caught his gaze, raised a brow. “What?”

He blinked. “Nothing.” 

He slung the bag over his shoulder and nodded towards the door. “We’ve got to go somewhere that’s not Monaco, though.”

She tilted her head. “Why?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “People’ll see. Paparazzi, fans, someone’ll clock it. Me. Us”

Her smile curled. “Us?”

“I just mean—” he started, but she was already grinning wider.

“I know what you meant, so where then?” “We’ll have to drive into France,” he said, completely serious.

She laughed.

He looked at her. “What?”

“Nothing, sorry,” she said, still smiling. “Just the way you said it like it was just us popping down to the shops.” He gave her a look, lips twitching. “It sort of is.”

She shrugged, following him down into the garage. “Alright then, France it is.”

The garage was cool and dim after the heat of the morning. Rows of sleek cars sat like sleeping beasts under soft overhead lights. She slowed as they walked, eyes wide.

“Bloody hell,” she murmured. “Is this all you?” He chuckled, unlocking one of the quieter looking models. “Some are mine. Some are team perks. Some are just there.”

She ran a hand along the bonnet, clearly impressed. “Not bad for a day at the beach.” They set off, the coast unfurling beside them like a painting. The drive was easy, winding roads and open skies, her hair dancing in the breeze as music played low from the speakers. She sang along quietly to bits she knew. He didn’t join in, but he listened.

And he smiled.

The beach was quieter than expected, a little cove tucked away from the road, shaded by cliffs and speckled with driftwood. They laid their things on the warm sand, and she kicked off her sandals with a sigh.

Lando was laying out the towles when she pulled her dress over her head in one swift motion, revealing a bikini underneath.

He didn’t stare, or at least he told himself he didn’t.

But he did definitely notice.

Something in his stomach dipped for a second, caught between admiration and the very sudden awareness of who he was and who she was.

She stretched like she’d been waiting all day to do it, hair tied up now, skin kissed golden by the sun.

Lando barely had time to take off his own shirt before she looked over her shoulder, grinning wickedly.

“Race you!”

And before he could respond, she was already sprinting towards the sea, feet kicking up soft clouds of sand.

He blinked, startled, then swore under his breath, grinning.

“You little—”

He chased after her, heart thudding, not from the sun. Something lighter than adrenaline, freer than pressure. The breeze bit at his skin, the salt stung his eyes, and the sound of her laugh carried over the waves. 

And for the first time in a long time, he felt light.

The sea was warmer than he expected, cool at first touch, then refreshing against his sun-warmed skin.

She was already thigh deep when he caught up, turning to glance over her shoulder with a grin that said you’re too slow. 

Lando launched at her.

She yelped, laughing as he caught her around the waist and they both stumbled deeper into the water, waves breaking around them.

“Alright! Alright! Truce!” she shouted, breathless.

But he didn’t let go, just held her steady against the current for a second too long. She looked up at him, cheeks pink from the sun and smiling so wide it almost knocked the breath out of him.

Then, without warning, she dunked him.

His head went under with a surprised splash and he surfaced with a splutter, hair slicked to his forehead and eyes narrowed.

“Oh, you’re done for,” he said, grinning through the water dripping from his lashes.

They splashed and shoved and laughed like children, the kind of silly, harmless chaos that left his chest aching, but not in the bad way.

Eventually, soaked and smiling, they drifted into a quiet stretch of the cove, water up to their waists, the sun casting long golden streaks across the surface. 

They talked a bit, nothing too heavy. Favourite ice creams. Embarrassing childhood stories. He learnt she hated the sound of polystyrene, and she learnt he once fell asleep in a bin lorry by mistake during a school trip (real story from me lol). 

Time stretched in that slow, delicious way that only seemed to happen when he was with her. 

The rest of the day passed in sun-drowsy contentment. 

They dried off on the towels, eating snacks and reading bits from a tatty magazine she’d brought on how to impress your manager. She dozed for a while with her arm flopped across her eyes. He sat beside her, knees pulled up, watching the tide roll in and out, trying not to overthink how much peace he felt in that exact moment. 

Later, on the drive back, they stopped for ice cream from a stand near the harbour. She ordered something fruity. He got mint choc chip, mostly so she’d stop teasing him for being too grown up and choosing something like coffee.

By the time they were halfway home, the sun had dipped below the hills and she was fast asleep in the passenger seat, head turned gently towards him, mouth parted slightly.

Lando glanced at her, then back at the road. His grip on the wheel softened. 

When they got back to the flat, he didn’t wake her.

Instead, he slipped out of the driver’s seat, came round, and unbuckled her gently. She stirred slightly as he lifted her into his arms, warm and still faintly smelling of suncream.

Her head dropped to his shoulder. He didn't say a word, he didn't even breathe.  

The lift ride up was quiet. His flat even quieter. 

He nudged the door open, padded through the hall, and carried her straight into his bedroom. The sheets were still crisp from the morning, untouched.

He laid her down carefully, brushed a bit of hair from her face. She sighed softly, turning into the pillow like she belonged there.

Lando lingered for a moment.

Then he backed out, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

He crashed on the sofa, limbs heavy but heart oddly light. His damp curly hair pressed against the cushion, and for once, the silence didn’t bother him.

He could still hear her laugh echoing in the waves. 

The following morning she woke with a start.

It took her a second to realise where she was, the unfamiliar softness of the duvet, the crisp linen, the faint scent of him on the pillow. Definitely not her flat. And definitely his bed.

“Shit.”

She sat up quickly, heart thudding, scanning the room for her jacket or bag or anything that proved that she hopefully hasn’t slept with him.

The flat was quiet except for the faint sound of something clattering in the kitchen. Not exactly a disaster, but not quite peace either.

She pulled a random hoodie over her head, ran a hand through her tangled hair, and padded out into the main room, bracing herself.

He was in the kitchen. Barefoot, curls a mess, concentration furrowed into his brow as he flipped a pancake that looked… questionably thick.

The pan hissed. The pancake landed mostly where it should’ve.

She crossed her arms, trying not to laugh. “Are you… cooking?”

Lando turned, startled. His cheeks were flushed, not from embarrassment, more from the warmth of the kitchen and the fact he hadn’t expected her to be awake.

“Sort of,” he muttered, glancing down at the half-stack on the plate. “They’re edible. Just about.”

She looked at him, messy-haired, in an old hoodie, trying to figure out if the one in the pan was burnt or just dark golden.

She couldn't help it. She smiled.

“I’m meant to be the one looking after you,” she said, shaking her head.

He rolled his eyes but there was no bite to it. “You fell asleep. I wasn’t going to wake you just to supervise me making average pancakes.”

“Below average.”

“They’re fine,” he defended, lifting one with the spatula. It folded in half on itself. “Okay, they’re character-building.”

She stepped closer, nudging him with her shoulder. “Look at that. First meal you’ve cooked yourself in how long?”

Lando scoffed, but the back of his neck went pink. “Dunno. Ages.”

She tilted her head, eyes soft with something he couldn’t name. “Domesticity looks good on you.”

He froze for a second but he felt the words settle somewhere in his chest.

Domesticity.

Her, here. His hoodie. Pancakes. Morning light.

He looked at her, really looked, and for once didn’t feel the urge to run from the quiet.

Instead, he flipped the final pancake with a slightly smug smirk. “Told you I didn’t need a carer.”

She raised an eyebrow. “One half-decent breakfast doesn’t mean you’re cured, sweetheart.”

He smiled despite himself. Sweetheart.

And just like that, he knew the rest of his day was going to be warm.

She grabbed a plate and scooped a pancake onto it, then passed it over with a cheeky grin.

“Here, try not to burn it.”

Lando took it, biting into the warm, slightly uneven stack. It wasn’t bad. Actually, it was pretty good. The kind of good that made you forget about the mess of your last few days.

He looked up at her, a slow smile tugging at his lips.

“Not bad for a carer’s breakfast, huh?”

She laughed, sitting down at the small kitchen table. “I might have to upgrade you to sous chef.”

He shook his head, but the smile stayed. “You sure you want to get stuck with a bloke who can barely boil water without a minor disaster?”

She reached across the table, nudging his hand lightly.

“I think I can manage.”

There was a pause, comfortable and easy. The sunlight caught her eyes, making them shine in a way that made Lando’s chest tighten just a little.

“So…” she said softly, “how are you, really?”

Lando swallowed, the question catching him off guard. Usually, he brushed it off or changed the subject.

But today, he let it hang in the air.

“I’m… better than I was,” he admitted, voice low. “Being with you, well, it’s different. Less noise upstairs.”

She smiled gently, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the table.

“That’s good,” she said quietly. “You deserve that.”

He met her gaze, a flicker of something like hope stirring beneath the usual mess.

Maybe this was the start of something, not just a routine or a distraction, but something real.

He didn’t know what it was yet.

But for the first time in a long time, he felt like he wanted to find out.

A few days passed in the way only good days do, quietly, comfortably, and all at once.

They fell back into their routine with ease. She was there every morning, bright and soft and organised, keeping him on track without ever making it feel like a chore. Meals appeared when he forgot he was hungry. She swapped out the expired yoghurt in the fridge without saying a word. She scribbled reminders onto post-it notes and stuck them in ridiculous places. On his phone, the bathroom mirror, his steering wheel.

And somehow, despite everything, he was sleeping again for more than 4 hours.

The flat no longer felt too quiet.

He met Max at their usual café down in the port the morning before he flew out to Austria.

Lando slumped into the chair opposite him, hoodie pulled up, sunglasses on despite the overcast sky.

Max gave him a look. “You’re not fooling anyone, you know. You dress like a celebrity in hiding but show up to the same café every time.”

Lando smirked, pulling down his glasses. “Creature of habit.”

Max took a sip of his coffee, eyeing him properly now. “You look better.”

Lando blinked. “What d’you mean?”

“I mean, you’re not half-dead,” Max said bluntly. “You’ve got colour in your face. You’ve shaved. I don’t see a Monster can fused to your hand.”

Lando huffed a laugh. “Thanks, mate. Proper confidence boost, that.”

Max grinned. “So she’s working, then.”

Lando paused. Thought about the pancakes. The post-its. The quiet sound of her humming in the kitchen. The way she made the flat feel like something more than just a place he slept in between breakdowns.

“She is,” he said, nodding. “More than I thought, actually.”

Max raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. “Told you. She’s got that stubborn kind of sunshine thing going on.”

Lando looked out at the boats bobbing gently on the water. “It’s weird. I don’t feel like she’s fixing me. It’s just… I want to keep up. For once.”

Max leaned back in his chair, smiling like he already knew.

“You’ve got someone in your corner now,” he said. “And you like it.”

Lando didn’t answer straight away.

But he didn’t deny it either.

Austria should’ve felt like business as usual.

The team was buzzing, the garage busy, the hotel sleek and sterile in that forgettable sort of way. He’d done this so many times he could go through the motions with his eyes shut, briefings, media, gym, sleep. Repeat.

But something was different this time.

His room was too quiet. His meals, though catered, tasted like cardboard. He’d forgotten to bring his vitamins, and the note she’d once stuck to the inside of his wash bag, remember to be a person, not just a machine, was no longer there.

He missed her. Not just her reminders and routines, but her. The way she’d talk at him while he made coffee, narrating her morning like it was the most important story on earth. The way she hummed while folding laundry. The way she looked at him, not like he was a driver, or a mess, but just… him.

The ache surprised him.

By Saturday night, he was holed up in his hotel room, lights dimmed, race prep done. But instead of watching footage or scrolling, he stared at his phone.

Then, almost on a whim, he opened their chat.

Would you ever come to a race?

Three dots appeared almost instantly. Then disappeared. Then came back.

That’s quite a question. Is this your subtle way of inviting me to Austria?

He smiled. Tapped back.

Austria’s a bit mad. But Silverstone’s next. Thought you might like it. Home race and all that.

The typing bubble came and went again. Then,

We can talk about it when you’re home.

And there it was, that word.

Home.

He stared at the screen longer than he meant to.

It did something to him. Knocked something loose. Not because she’d said it. But because she meant it. Like his flat wasn’t just a stopgap anymore. Like him being away wasn’t permanent.

They’d talk when he was home.

He stared at her last message a moment longer, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

I’d like you to be there when I get back Sunday night. If you’re free, I mean.

He regretted sending it immediately. Read it back twice. It looked desperate. Or worse, uncertain.

But a reply came a few minutes later.

I’ll be there.

That was it. Simple. Certain.

He smiled. Couldn’t help it.

And for the first time on a race weekend, he couldn’t wait for it to be over, not for the result, but because it meant he’d get to see her again.

Sunday night came fast.

The flight was smooth, the car from the airport quick, but Lando felt that weird tug of nerves all over again as the lift doors slid open to his flat. His bag thumped against his leg. The hallway smelt faintly of fresh linen and vanilla.

She was there.

He could feel it even before he saw her.

When he stepped inside, the lights were low, and something warm flickered in the corner of the living room, a couple of candles, set along the windowsill. The blinds were open, showing off the Monaco skyline in soft golden hues.

She looked up from the sofa, dressed in cosy joggers and a big jumper, her hair tied up, a bowl of popcorn balanced in her lap.

“There you are,” she said, smiling like he hadn’t just spent three days thinking about her.

Lando stepped in, shrugging off his jacket, suddenly very aware of the domesticity he'd walked into. A blanket was draped across the back of the sofa. Two mugs sat on the coffee table, one clearly his, already filled with hot chocolate.

“I wasn’t sure what kind of mood you’d be in,” she said, shifting slightly to make room, “so I picked three films. Comfort, distraction, or dramatic sobbing, dealer’s choice.”

He didn’t speak right away. Just looked around at the quiet little world she’d built for him in his absence.

His shoulders dropped.

“This is nice,” he said, finally. “Really nice.”

She grinned. “Well, I figured if I’m going to keep pretending to be your carer, I might as well offer full post-race recovery packages.”

He laughed, genuinely, the kind that shook a bit of the tension from his chest.

She patted the seat next to her. “Come on then. Sit down before your hot chocolate gets cold.”

And he did, just like that. Kicked off his shoes, slouched onto the sofa, and let his body fold into the warmth of it all. Her shoulder brushed his as she pressed play, and he didn’t move away.

He hadn’t realised how much he needed this.

Not just the quiet, but her quiet.

And as the film played and her head gently tipped onto his arm, Lando let himself enjoy it, just for a while.

Home.

It really did feel like that now.

The following morning he woke with a crick in his neck and the faint scent of her still clinging to the blanket draped over his chest.

The telly had switched itself off at some point in the night. His hot chocolate was long cold. And she was gone, left sometime after the credits had rolled, quietly, without waking him.

But the flat didn’t feel empty.

It felt like she’d just stepped out.

He pulled the blanket closer, burying his face in it for a second longer than necessary. Lavender and laundry powder. Familiar. Her.

Later that morning, she came by as usual, letting herself in with a chirpy “Morning!” and two coffees in hand.

He was already up for once, hair still rumpled from sleep, hoodie creased.

“Sleep on the sofa?” she asked, amused.

“Mm.” He took the coffee gratefully. “Didn’t make it very far after you left. Blanket was too warm.”

She gave him a knowing look but didn’t tease.

They settled at the kitchen table, a shared croissant between them, her notebook open to a new page.

“So,” she said, flicking the cap off her pen, “Silverstone. Talk to me.”

Lando took a slow sip of his coffee. “I meant what I said. I want you there.”

She glanced up, smile tucked in the corner of her mouth. “I know. I just didn’t want to assume.”

“You never do,” he said, honest and quick, before he even realised it.

That earned him a small look, soft, appreciative.

“So,” he continued, shifting slightly in his seat, “you’ve got two options. I can get you a pass for the paddock, proper team kit, blend in, pretend you belong.”

She raised a brow, amused. “Pretend?”

He smirked. “You’re bossy enough, you’d fit right in.”

She grinned. “Flattering.”

“Or,” he went on, “you can watch from the grandstands. Might be a bit calmer, but I’ll know you’re there either way.”

She looked at him properly now, pen stilled in her fingers. “And you want me there even if it’s chaos?”

He shrugged, suddenly a bit shy. “I don’t know. Just when you’re around, it feels like less of a mess.”

That quiet settled in again. Not awkward. Just true.

She nodded, scribbling something in her notebook. “Alright. I’ll come. You’ll have to get me a kit that doesn’t drown me, though. I’m not showing up looking like I borrowed it off a rugby player.”

Lando laughed. “Deal.”

And as she tucked her notebook away and moved to put the kettle on, he watched her like he was seeing the start of something he hadn’t quite had the words for yet.

But he knew this much.

He didn’t just want her there.

He needed her there.

They flew out on the Thursday morning.

Private jet, naturally, something Lando barely registered anymore, part of the machine that came with the job. But watching her take it all in was another story entirely.

“Wait,” she whispered as they pulled up onto the tarmac. “This is yours?”

He shrugged, smirking. “Well, not mine mine. But yeah. Team flight.”

She stared up at the sleek plane like it had dropped out of a film set. “Right. Okay. No big deal. Totally normal. Not freaking out.”

Lando chuckled as he grabbed her bag from the boot. “You’re allowed to be impressed, y’know. You don’t have to be cool all the time.”

“I am cool,” she insisted, following him up the steps with wide eyes. “Just also wildly unprepared for this level of luxury.”

Inside, she settled into one of the leather seats like she was afraid she’d break it, eyes darting around at the polished surfaces and perfectly folded blankets.

He sat opposite her, grinning like a fool.

“You alright there?”

She looked at him over the rim of her paper cup. “Lando, they offered me a mimosa and I said no because I panicked. I’m not alright.”

He burst out laughing, tipping his head back. “You’ll get used to it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

By the time they reached Silverstone, her nerves had settled into excitement.

The team garage was already buzzing, and when she stepped out in the McLaren kit he’d had waiting for her, a proper fit, not some oversized leftover, Lando had to look away for a moment just to get himself together.

She fit in effortlessly.

Wearing the colours, she didn’t look like someone tagging along. She looked like she belonged.

And it was oddly comforting, more than he’d expected.

She was laughing with one of the engineers before he’d even finished debrief. Swapping notes with his physio. Keeping a watchful eye on the water bottle in his hand like it was her full-time job.

And for once, when he walked through the paddock, he didn’t feel like he was floating above it all.

He felt anchored.

Between sessions, she found him sat outside the motorhome, cap pulled low, headphones around his neck.

She passed him a banana and a look. “Don’t roll your eyes. You skipped breakfast.”

Lando took it, peeling it slowly. “You just like bossing me around.”

“Absolutely,” she said brightly. “Now eat it, number four.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You calling me by my driver number now?”

She grinned. “Only if it motivates you.”

And as she sat beside him, cross-legged and chatting like they were just two mates at a park somewhere, Lando realised this didn’t feel like chaos.

It felt… right.

Later that day, the two of them found themselves in the motorhome again, half-drawn blinds, casting warm strips of light across the small lounge space. Lando had pulled off his boots and fireproofs, now in team joggers and a loose t-shirt, legs stretched across the sofa while she sat on the carpet in front of him, back resting against the edge of the seat, her hair still slightly windswept from being trackside.

His hand dangled loosely near her shoulder. Not touching. But close.

She was humming, some random tune from the playlist she’d put on while he cooled down, and carefully peeling the corner of a protein bar wrapper for him.

“Do you know you hum constantly?” he said, watching her with that quiet, lopsided sort of amusement.

She glanced up. “Do I?”

“Yeah. Like, properly. All the time.”

“Well, maybe you’re just always around now.”

He smiled, then laughed softly when she tossed the protein bar at him without looking.

They fell into that easy silence again, the kind that didn’t need filling. She reached up to tug a hairband from her wrist, redoing her ponytail absentmindedly. His gaze lingered.

“You alright?” she asked, craning her neck slightly to look at him.

He nodded. “Yeah. You just make all this feel

less mental.”

That earned her softest smile, the kind she didn’t even have to think about. “That’s the job, isn’t it?”

He didn’t say anything, just looked at her like he wanted to say more but couldn’t figure out how.

Then the door creaked open and Oscar stepped in with a knock-knock gesture and a raised brow. “Sorry, didn’t realise this was occupied.”

Lando blinked, quickly sitting up, hand retreating behind his head like he hadn’t been close to her at all. She turned slightly, offering Oscar a warm, unapologetic smile.

“Hi,” she said, chipper as ever. “Nice to meet you, I’m Lando’s carer.”

Oscar grinned, clearly amused. “Oh yeah?”

Lando shrugged, slumping back into the sofa like it was no big deal. “Yeah. She cares so I don’t have to.”

Oscar snorted. “Nice work if you can get it.”

She laughed, then added, “To be fair, he’s more work than a pensioner with a sugar addiction, so I earn every bit of it.”

Oscar shot Lando a mock-sympathetic look. “She’s got you nailed, mate.”

Lando just shook his head, lips tugging into the smallest of smiles as Oscar backed out of the room with a wink and a wave.

Once the door shut again, she turned and looked up at him from the floor.

“Too much?” she teased.

He leaned forward, still smiling. “Not at all.”

And for the rest of the hour, with her back pressed to his knee and the quiet buzzing of the paddock beyond the walls, everything felt settled.

Like maybe this was becoming the new normal.

Race day came with its usual noise and nerves. The low thrum of engines in the distance, the hiss of tyres on tarmac, the sting of adrenaline thick in the air.

Silverstone buzzed with the kind of energy only a home race could bring.

And Lando had never driven better.

Every lap was clean, calculated, ruthless. No mistakes. No self-doubt. Just grit and instinct and a car that, for once, felt like an extension of himself.

When he crossed the finish line in P1, the roar from the grandstands felt deafening. Team radio crackled with cheers, engineers shouting down his ear, someone nearly in tears.

He barely heard it.

All he could think, where is she?

Pulling into parc fermé, he yanked off his helmet and looked around like a man on a mission.

“Where is she?” he asked one of the mechanics, already half out of the car.

The guy blinked. “Who?”

“Uh” He gestured vaguely. “My uh carer, she’s in the team kit, she was in the garage earlier. Has anyone seen her?”

Shrugs. Shaking heads. No one knew.

His jaw tensed, nerves he hadn’t felt all race prickling in now like static. It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. All of this meant less if she wasn’t here to see it.

Still, he went through the motions: hugs with the crew, the sweaty TV pen interviews, the slow walk down the corridor lined with monitors and back-slaps. The moment was his, but it felt a bit empty.

Then he stepped onto the podium.

The crowd was thunderous. British flags everywhere, people chanting his name, flashes going off like strobes.

And there, down below, tucked between a few McLaren pit crew, cap pulled low and grinning up at him like he’d just done the impossible, there she was.

Her face lit up when he spotted her, and the tension in his chest just dropped.

He grinned, grabbed the champagne bottle, and with precision honed from years of celebration, arced the spray right in her direction.

She squealed, laughing, trying to duck behind someone’s shoulder but getting caught in it anyway.

He laughed too, and when the moment calmed, he looked down again and caught her eyes.

She mouthed something at him, something small, like ‘well done’, and he mouthed back.

Go back to the motorhome.

She gave a little salute, still smiling, and disappeared into the crowd.

And suddenly, the day felt complete.

The moment the press duties were done, Lando didn’t waste a second.

Still damp from champagne, hair sticking to his forehead, race suit tied at the waist, he all but jogged back through the paddock. Past cameras, past well-wishers, barely nodding as people tried to offer congratulations.

He needed to see her.

The motorhome was quiet when he pushed open the door, the rest of the team still caught up in the chaos outside. But she was there, sat on the sofa, McLaren cap now off, holding a bottle of water and staring out the window like she was waiting for him too.

“Hey—” she started, but didn’t finish.

Because he was already across the room, already scooping her up into a hug that nearly knocked the breath out of both of them. She gave a soft little laugh of surprise, arms winding round his neck as he held her like he’d just won her.

Which, in a way, he had.

“You were incredible,” she said against his shoulder.

“I didn’t care about the win,” he murmured, voice muffled in her hair. “Not until I saw you.”

She pulled back slightly to look at him, eyebrows drawing in. “Lando…”

“No, I mean it,” he said, heart racing now for entirely different reasons. “When I crossed the line, I should’ve felt everything. But I couldn’t think about anything except the fact that you weren’t there. Not at first. It felt, empty.”

Her expression softened, smile faltering at the edges.

“That’s the adrenaline talking,” she said gently, fingers brushing the back of his neck. “You’re on a high, people say all sorts when their heart’s going.”

“No,” he said firmly, eyes locked on hers. “I know it’s not.”

She stilled.

Lando took a breath. “My heart’s been on fire before, after wins, crashes, everything in between. But it’s never felt as empty as it does when you’re not near me. I didn’t know it at first, I didn’t have the words for it, but I do now.”

She blinked up at him, wide-eyed.

“I don’t just want you here when I’m falling apart,” he said quietly. “I want you here when I’m winning. When I’m okay. When I’m tired. When I’m not.”

Silence fell like a held breath.

And then she smiled, soft, shaken, and real. The kind that said she’d been waiting to hear those words without even realising it.

“I was always going to stay,” she whispered.

He pressed his forehead to hers, eyes fluttering shut. “Good.”

They stood like that for a moment, bodies close, breath mingling, the silence between them full of everything that had been left unsaid for too long.

She tilted her chin ever so slightly, and his nose brushed against hers. Neither of them moved beyond that, like they were afraid to disturb something fragile.

Then she whispered, “You smell like champagne.”

He gave a quiet laugh, barely more than a breath. “You smell like bananas and home.”

She smiled at that, small and warm and a little bit shy.

And then, like gravity had finally caught up with them, he leant in.

Their lips met softly, tentative at first, the kind of kiss you give when you’ve been thinking about it for far too long and you want to get it right. It wasn’t hurried, or heavy, or anything like what the world outside might’ve expected from a Formula One driver fresh off a win.

It was slow. Careful. His way of saying he didn’t want this to be over too soon.

Her hands curled into the fabric of his t-shirt, and he held her like she might disappear if he let go. When they parted, barely an inch between them, neither moved away.

She blinked up at him, dazed in the gentlest way.

“That wasn’t adrenaline,” she said quietly, as if to confirm it for herself.

“No,” he murmured, thumb brushing her cheek. “That was me. Just me.”

Her nose scrunched in that familiar way, eyes glinting with something fond. “Good.”

He smiled again, this time slower, fuller. And in the soft hush of the motorhome, with the noise of Silverstone still echoing somewhere in the background, Lando finally felt what peace might look like.

It looked a lot like her.

the end.

taglist: @lilorose25 @curseofhecate @number-0-iz @dozyisdead @dragonfly047 @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @sluttyharry30 @n0vazsq @carlossainzapologist @iamred-iamyellow @iimplicitt @geauxharry @hzstry @oikarma @chilling-seavey@the-holy-trinity-l @idc4987 @rayaskoalaland @elieanana@bookishnerd1132

[landoughnut]

You're Dating Him?! - LN4

masterlist - request

pairing: lando norris x leclerc!fem!reader

summary: lando's been soft launching, but when someone spots the youngest leclerc out with him in Italy, her brothers don't react as they'd hoped

w/c & a/n: smau | I need smau fic ideas, chat gpt is not helping 😭

lando

liked by oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, maxfewtrell, maxverstappen1, and 1,832,075 others

lando nice and needed vacation ���️

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user1 IS THAT A G-GIRL ⁉️⁉️

carlossainz55 aye you bastard answer my messages 😑 ♥︎ by author

charles_leclerc looks like little lando norris is all grown up 🥺

maxfewtrell oh he's all grown up all right 😏

lando maxfewtrell you keep your mouth SHUT

charles_leclerc maxfewtrell ????

user2 damn we got lando soft launching before gta 6

user3 she looks oddly familiar but I can't think of how

maxfewtrell 😶

user3 maxfewtrell TELL US WHAT YOU KNOW

maxfewtrell user3 🤐

user3 maxfewtrell you BITCH

oscarpiastri looking tan mate 👍 ♥︎ by author

user4 do we think oscar knows who she is

maxverstappen1 why was I not informed about this

lando because you have connections 😄

maxverstappen1 lando so you're assuming I'd tell others ??

lando maxverstappen1 don't play the victim we all know you love to gossip 🙄

user4 lando says max v has connections to her 🤔 does that mean she's part of the f1 world ♥︎ by author

user5 YOU'RE ONTO SOMETHING

user6 LANDO LIKING ?????

user7 maybe she's a sister of one of the drivers??

user8 no way that would ever happen lmao

lando

liked by charles_leclerc, maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri, and 2,310,871 others

lando they do say Italy is the country of love 🫶

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user9 soldiers we've lost him 🫡

carlossainz55 🫡😢 ♥︎ by author

user10 carlossainz55 LMAOAOAO its okay carlando lives on forever

oscarpiastri don't do anything I wouldn't do kids 👍

lando I'm literally older than you 🤓 and she's your age...

user11 NEW INFORMATION UNLOCKED ‼️ mystery girl is brunette, 23, knows f1

user12 that unfortunately doesn't really help much

user11 user12 yet...

danielricciardo since when did you take good pictures 🤨 ♥︎ by author

lando she taught me 🤭

user13 THAT SHOULD BE ME HOLDING YOUR HAND 💔

alexandrasaintmleux gorgeous girl ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 I recognize that back...

lando SHUT UPPPP

lando maxverstappen1 wait wdym you recognize her back 😾

charles_leclerc hey my sister went to Italy recently too lmao imagine if you ran into her

lando heh that would be pretty funny 😅

maxfewtrell lando can you be anymore obvious mate

yourusername I cant charles is so oblivious ��

lando

liked by maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri, yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 2,310,871 others

lando 🌊🛥️ maxfewtrell

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maxverstappen1 interesting...

oscarpiastri stay hydrated folks 👍

lando yes dad 👍

charles_leclerc looking clean 🔥 ♥︎ by author

arthur_leclerc cute couple 🤝 ♥︎ by author

lando I hope you'll still think that when you realizewho she is

maxfewtrell 🤪

arthur_leclerc maxfewtrell 🤔

carlossainz55 you two better be keeping it PG 👀😏

lando more like MA

charles_leclerc lando be safe use protection ☝️

maxfewtrell charles_leclerc ☠️

charles_leclerc maxfewtrell ?????

alexandrasaintmleux tell her I said hi 🎀 ♥︎ by author

charles_leclerc you know who she is??

alexandrasaintmleux charles_leclerc hehe....

user14 I HAVE A SUSPICION ON WHO IT IS BUT Y'ALL WILL CALL ME CRAZY

user15 SPILL

user14 user15 I THINK SHE'S yourusername

user14 hear me out: she's oscars age (who are both 23), she's brunette (like charles lorenzo and arthur), charles told us that his sister recently went to Italy on lando's post of pics from there, she liked this post, AND alexandra (charles' gf) commented on this and the last post

user16 user14 WAITTTTTT I THINK YOU'RE RIGHT

yourusername

liked by lando, oscarpiastri, maxfewtrell, alexandrasaintmleux, and 2,310,871 others

yourusername cat's out of the bag I guess 🤗 this is my cutesy boyfriend lando 💗

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user17 WHATATATATAAT YOU'RE WHO LANDO HAS BEEN SOFT LAUNCHING ⁉️

maxverstappen1 I KNEW IT ♥︎ by author

user7 I CALLED IT BRO I SAID A DRIVERS SISTER AND YALL DOUBTED

user8 IM SORRY 😣

oscarpiastri finally!! congrats 👍 ♥︎ by author

maxfewtrell NOOOO I WAS HAVING FUN TROLLING

yourusername yeah we know 😄

user18 how did lando pull a leclerc

lando excuse me???

user19 lando she's literally an angel and then you're.... lando

yourusername user19 that's exactly why I love him :)

lando yourusername I love you too baby 🥺 ♥︎ by author

charles_leclerc what the FUCK.

charles_leclerc I'LL KILL HIM

charles_leclerc WHAT THE FUCK WHY ARE YOU HUGGING THAT THING

lando "THAT THING" ⁉️⁉️

charles_leclerc lando fuck off je ne te parlais pas

lando charles_leclerc I don't understand french 😢

yourusername lando maybe it's for the better my love 🥰

charles_leclerc yourusername "MY LOVE"???? UNBLOCK ME AND ANSWER MY CALLS

alexandrasaintmleux yourusername don't unblock him he's got steam coming out of his ears... and arthur also showed up

maxfewtrell 😎🍿 ♥︎ by author

lando glad you're enjoying this while I'm fearing for my life

charles_leclerc WHO THE FUCK DOES HE THINK HE IS TOUCHING MY BABY SISTER????

arthur_leclerc WHY IS HIS MOUTH ON YOURS IN THAT TWEET

charles_leclerc POURQUOI TU SORS AVEC LUI?? JE VAIS LE POUSSER DANS LES BARRIÈRES SUR LA VOIE, ATTENDS JUSTE

charles_leclerc lando YOU SAID YOU WERE KEEPING IT MA ON THIS VACATION

arthur_leclerc don't worry bro I'm sharpening my axe 🥰

lando arthur_leclerc AXE?!?!!? WHY DO YOU HAVE AN AXE??

maxverstappen1 lando it was nice competing with you

lando ☹️

user20 damn lando I wasn't familiar with your game 😮‍💨

lando everyone being so surprised that she's dating me is quite insulting 😪

leclerc_pascale beautiful ❤️ ♥︎ by author

yourusername I LOVE YOU MAMAN

lando I'm too pretty to die 💔

arthur_leclerc who lied to you??

lando arthur_leclerc your sister I guess ♥︎ by author

lorenzotl lando you're only digging your grave deeper

lorenzotl I'm so happy for you ma petite soeur ❤️ ♥︎ by author

yourusername thank you enzo I love you ❤️

arthur_leclerc lorenzotl YOU'RE OKAY WITH THIS ?????

charles_leclerc does he make you happy.

yourusername yes very happy 🥹

charles_leclerc yourusername is he respectful.

yourusername charles_leclerc he couldn't be more of a gentleman

charles_leclerc yourusername I still don't like this 😡 but... I'll give him a chance

lando charles_leclerc THANK YOU PLEASE DON'T KILL ME I SWEAR I'LL BE THE BEST BROTHER IN LAW

arthur_leclerc lando BROTHER IN LAW?????

[pitlanepeach]

Reader is secretly married to Lando, and she starts using his sim, she misses him and she wants to feel closer and also really wants to learn (even if she is not ready to admit that she always had a thing for learning how it would feel to be in an actual f1 car). She creates a profile for herself for fun: Mrs Norris (which of course no one thinks it’s actually her). She becomes so good at it that she ends up beating the whole grid one time, and everyone is just wondering who the hell is this person…

👀👀👀👀

Very unrealistic, but well… 😂😂😂😂

Mrs Norris (Oneshot)

Lando Norris x Verstappen!Reader

Summary — It was only supposed to be a bit of fun, but really, what did she expect? Her surname might be Norris now, but she was born a Verstappen.

Notes — This was so fun!!!!!! Em, I will never not appreciate your cute ideas.

Lando had been gone for exactly twelve hours when she caved.

It wasn’t boredom—the Verstappen family didn’t do boredom. Her schedule was packed with gym sessions, influencer brunches, and brand events she had no real desire to attend.

But the apartment felt off without him. Too quiet. Too tidy.

And the sim rig—God, it just sat there. Smug. Taunting. Like it knew she’d eventually give in to its silent, high-tech seduction.

She told herself it was just curiosity. Racing was in her blood, even if she’d had zero interest as a kid. She used to stage silent protests just to get out of karting, sulking until her dad finally let her quit and focus on gymnastics instead.

Still, one harmless session wouldn’t hurt, right?

Just a few laps around Silverstone. Just something to do before bed.

Two hours later, she was red-faced, sweaty, and yelling at an AI Williams for brake-checking her into Turn 1.

She was terrible. Hilariously, painfully terrible.

But she was hooked.

—

By day three, she was watching tutorials, scribbling notes, and fine-tuning the seat and wheel setup like her life depended on it.

She texted Lando under the guise of checking in.

Hey handsome, you okay? Totally random, but what’s the best braking point for Eau Rouge?

He didn’t even question it—just sent a smug voice note with a full breakdown like she was a rookie on his team.

It made her want to destroy his time.

That night, she created a profile.

She debated using her real name, but that was a quick no. The username had to be anonymous… but also funny.

So she picked the most on-the-nose option possible.

@Mrs.Norris

It was meant to be a joke. A bit of fun. She never expected it to go anywhere.

She definitely didn’t expect to get good.

—

Two weeks in, she was holding her own in online lobbies. Four weeks in, she was winning. All of them.

Six weeks in, she entered a public charity sim race and beat George, Charles, and Alex.

The stream chat lost its collective mind.

Who TF is Mrs. Norris???

Actual alien pace.

Lando alt??

Plot twist: it’s Max Verstappen in disguise.

That last one made her laugh so hard she nearly fell out of the rig. The idea that they thought her brother was racing under her married name? Unhinged enough to make her cry.

Then came the text from Lando.

Lando:

Baby, are you using my sim under the username Mrs. Norris?

You:

Yep. And I beat them all.

Lando:

No. Shut up. You did not.

You:

Duh. I might be a Norris now, but I was born a Verstappen.

—

When he finally got home after the triple-header, he walked in to find her mid-race, cursing like a sailor, laser-focused, fire in her eyes.

He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, smirking.

She crossed the finish line five seconds clear of second place.

Slowly, she removed the headset. Even slower, she turned to face him, cheeks flushed pink.

“Hi,” she said softly, suddenly shy.

He didn’t say anything.

Then he grinned.

“Mrs. Norris,” he drawled, walking over to kiss her forehead, “we are so screwed if this gets out.”

She smiled. “It won’t. They think I’m Max.”

He leaned in, voice low. “You beat my Silverstone time.”

“Your fault for sounding all smug about Eau Rouge.”

He kissed her properly then, holding her like he hadn’t seen her in months.

And neither of them mentioned the way his hands trembled slightly at the thought of her in a real F1 car.

Because if her dad ever found out?

He’d have her in one tomorrow.

[norristeria]

Catching Strays ! LN04

SUMMARY 𝄡 There's a stray child in the McLaren garage, and of course, Lando is the one who has to deal with it.

PAIRING 𝄡 Lando Norris x Single Mother! FemReader

TAGS 𝄡 Fluff.

WORDCOUNT 𝄡 1k.

NOTE 𝄡 The cutest thing I've ever written ( yet ). This drabble is about another pairing I had in mind... <33

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

Something tugged at Lando’s race suit.

Amid the paddock frenzy, that subtle touch⏤so gentle he first thought he’d imagined it⏤startled him enough to abandon his pre-race ritual.

He looked down.

And found himself nose-to-nose with a pair of big amber eyes.

Lando blinked.

The child blinked back.

“What the—?” he murmured before crouching to her level. “What are you doing here, muppet? Where are your parents?”

She let go of his leg, stuffed her fist into her mouth—long enough for drool to glisten down her chin and wrist—and dropped onto the ground with a soft oomph.

She smacked her lips a few times—undoubtedly mimicking someone—and then clapped her hands, giggling.

“Mama!”

Lando cast a desperate glance around him, but the engineers and mechanics paid him no mind, wholly absorbed in their final adjustments to the car.

“I don’t know where your mama is.”

He ran a hand through his curls as stress began to rise. The girl looked at him with wide, hopeful eyes, only fuelling the tsunami building in his chest.

Of course it had to happen to him.

“Well... what am I supposed to do with you now?”

For a fleeting moment, he considered calling Oscar, who was probably still holed up in his room, but the Aussie driver was just as hopeless in situations like this���if not worse. His mother’s face flashed through his mind, and he suppressed a shiver at the thought of her scolding him.

That’s when he noticed it.

Tucked between the girl’s overalls and t-shirt, a lanyard.

Carefully, Lando pulled it free and let out a sigh of relief when he saw the pass. He flipped it over, softened momentarily at the ID photo, and read the name printed in bold.

“Apolline L/N? Well, at least we know you're not a paddock intruder, muppet.”

She giggled as if she understood him, then tipped forward—still figuring out her balance, clearly. Lando caught her before she hit the ground, muttering a quiet thanks for his fast reflexes.

As he resumed reading, he absentmindedly rubbed her back. Shaken by her near tumble, she had settled her head against his chest, sucking on her thumb.

Apolline L/N VIP ACCESS A guest of: SCUDERIA FERRARI

“Well, I guess your mama’s probably over at Ferrari. What do you say, Apolline?” He leaned back to meet her gaze. “Shall we go for a walk?”

He stood, a child in his arms and tiny fingers clinging to his fireproofs.

Together, they set off.

Eyes lingered on the duo as they passed by. Whispers soon followed. What was Lando Norris doing with a small girl in his arms? Was that his sister? His daughter from a past fling?

He could already imagine the headlines, always eager to twist the narrative. Watching warily as a cameraman aimed his lens at them, he tucked Apolline's head into his neck and tightened his embrace before quickening his pace.

He passed Williams, then Mercedes—ignoring George’s raised eyebrow—and finally stopped in front of the red garage.

The usual Monaco frenzy took on a different flavour here. Lando could almost taste the tension soaked into every inch of the garage.

Ferrari wasn’t swept up in Monaco mania, no; they were drowning in Chaos.

A Charles in full race gear paced, his phone pressed to his ear, while a flustered Alexandra—so far removed from her usual elegance—tried to comfort a woman in tears.

Her sobs drowned out the frantic conversations of the team, whose faces all wore the same expression: that of pure dread.

In his arms, Apolline began to wriggle.

“Mama!”

At the sound, the woman spun around. She tore herself from Alexandra’s arms and ran to Lando.

The latter remained frozen as he took in the woman before him. His eyes darted between her sparkling gaze and her intoxicating mouth. They would have travelled further down—drawn to the delicious lines of her figure in that dress—had she not spoken, brows furrowed.

“May I have my daughter back?”

Her French accent nearly made him faint.

“What? Your daughter… Oh—uh—yeah! Of course!” he stammered. “She’s yours. Right. Obviously.”

Clumsily, he transferred Apolline into her mother’s arms. She hugged the girl tightly before setting her down and checking her over.

“Mon ange! You scared me to death! Don't ever do that again. If you want to go wandering, we’ll go together. Understood?”

The little girl just laughed, unfazed by the turmoil she’d caused, and dashed off into the garage. Lando watched her wrap herself around Alexandra’s legs, and then—

Vanilla.

Lando instinctively hugged the woman back. He buried his nose in her hair and breathed in the sweet scent as his hands tightened on her back.

“Thank you,” she whispered with the kind of gratitude only a mother could convey.

When she stepped back, Lando was already mourning the warmth of her body against his. Flushing, he rubbed the back of his neck to chase the thought away and shrugged.

Control yourself, she has a child.

“It’s nothing. Anyone would’ve done the same.”

“Still. It means a lot.”

She offered her hand.

“I’m Y/N.”

“Lando.”

Alexandra called her over. Y/N gave him a small, apologetic smile—one that did something strange to his chest—and turned to walk away, tossing a final “thank you” over her shoulder.

Lando stayed there, a little dazed.

A throat cleared, breaking the spell.

Fred Vasseur stood in front of him with his arms crossed and one eyebrow raised. Only then did Lando realize half the garage was staring at him.

Knowing he had overstayed his welcome, he turned on his heel and headed back toward the McLaren garage—but not without grabbing Charles by the collar. The Monegasque struggled against his hold before freezing as Lando leaned in and whispered:

“Give me Y/N’s number, or I’m crashing into you at turn one, constructors’ championship be damned.”

[verstappenverse]

All Over You

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Touch has always been your love language, until one overheard conversation makes you question everything. When you start to pull away Max realises just how deeply he’s come to need it.

2.7k words / Masterlist

Max always says you’re like a blanket come to life.

You cling. You cuddle. You drape yourself across him the second the opportunity arises. If Max’s lap is free you claim it without hesitation. If he’s stretched out on the couch you’re pressed against his side before he even blinks. Your hand finds his thigh during dinner, your fingers sneak into his back pocket when you’re walking together, and every morning, like clockwork, your nose tucks into the curve of his neck.

It’s not something you think about, it’s instinct. It’s how you express the things you sometimes struggle to say. How you offer comfort. How you say I love you.

And for the longest time Max never says a word about it.

He lets you curl up beside him during movie nights. He leans into your touch when you rub lazy circles into the back of his neck while he’s gaming, or when you lace your fingers with his under the table at dinner.

So you think, this is us. You think, this works.

Until one night, when you overhear something you weren’t supposed to.

It’s nothing serious. At least, not really.

You’re padding back from the kitchen with a cup of tea, bare feet muffled by carpet when you hear Max talking on the phone on the balcony. His voice is low, casual. He’s talking to Daniel you think. Laughing at something.

And then you catch it.

“Yeah, you noticed huh? No she’s super touchy, always has been. Like, always on me.”

A beat.

“No, I don’t mind it. It’s just... I’m not really used to it, you know?”

You freeze, feet still against the carpet. The tea sloshes slightly, forgotten in your hands.

He laughs again, easy and relaxed. “She’s like a human magnet. If I’m sitting, she’s sitting on me. I swear sometimes I think she’d climb into my skin if she could.”

Daniel says something you can’t hear. Max chuckles. “No, she’s not annoying. She’s just... really affectionate.”

You don’t stay to hear the rest.

Your fingers tighten around your mug as you quietly retreat, heart a little heavier than before. You curl back into bed without saying a word, staring at the ceiling while your tea goes cold on the nightstand.

You’re not angry. He didn’t say anything cruel. Not really.

But for the first time questions being to lodge in your chest like a thorn... do I touch him too much? Does he just tolerate it because he loves me?

And just like that, something in you begins to shift.

You're still beside him. Still laughing at his jokes, still making him breakfast. You kiss him good morning and smile across the table. From the outside nothing changes, but the little things in all the tiny invisible places, the things that used to come so naturally they stop.

You don’t climb into his lap while he’s watching race replays, don’t tuck your face into the slope of his shoulder like you used to. You don’t slide your hand beneath the hem of his hoodie when you hug him from behind in the kitchen, fingers sneaking against warm skin. You don’t curl into his side when the movie starts, don’t tuck yourself under his arm like you belong there.

Instead you sit beside him on the couch with your legs tucked neatly under you, wrapped up tightly in a blanket like armour. A careful distance. A subtle retreat.

You keep your hands in your lap at dinner. You nod and listen and smile, but your fingers don’t find his thigh. You don’t reach for his hand beneath the table.

You still want to. God, do you want to.

Your whole body aches to reach for him, to run your fingers over his jaw, to smooth back his hair, to trace lazy shapes across his stomach. You miss the warmth of his skin, the steady beat of his heart under your cheek.

You miss being held without thinking twice, but now that you’ve heard him say it out loud, that he’s not used to it, that he’s not like you, you can’t unhear it. It loops in your mind when the silence stretches between you.

Slowly you start to convince yourself you’ve been suffocating him. That maybe the way you love is too much for him. That maybe softness, when it clings like yours does, feels like smothering.

So you pull back, quietly, carefully, and hope he doesn’t notice how much it hurts. Or worse that he does, and lets you do it anyway.

Max doesn’t say anything at first, but after a few days he starts to notice.

A few inches of space on the couch. Your hand not finding his like it usually does. The way you don't crawl into his lap during breakfast, don't lean into his side during movies, don't rest your hand on his leg during long car rides.

At first he tells himself maybe you’re tired from work. Maybe it’s just one of those quiet moods that passes like the weather. He gives you space, the way people are always saying partners should.

But the distance doesn’t fade.

It expands.

One morning he slips behind you in the kitchen to steal a piece of toast. Normally you’d laugh, you’d wrap your arms around his waist and bury your nose in his hoodie, but this time you step aside without touching him.

He frowns, just a quick flicker, then hides it, but his stomach twists violently anyway.

It’s not like Max to spiral. He’s not wired for emotional uncertainty he prefers problems he can fix with strategy, planning, control.

But this?

This isn’t a problem he knows how to solve.

The way you sit on the far end of the couch, legs tucked under you, scrolling on your phone like it’s more comforting than him. You barely brush his arm when you slip into bed at night. When he tries to kiss your neck absentmindedly like he always does you duck away, not unkindly, but enough to make him panic

He tries not to panic, but that’s what this feels like panic.

It gnaws at him over the next couple days. The silence between your fingers and his. The distance that didn’t use to be there. The way you won’t look at him for too long, like he might read too much in your eyes.

Max isn’t good with emotional guessing games. He’s never been the type to bottle things up or pretend everything’s fine when it isn’t. He doesn’t do insecure. He confronts things. Fixes things. Puts it all on the table and makes it make sense.

And Max doesn’t know how to read silence the way he reads telemetry. He doesn’t know how to fix something when he doesn’t know where the break is.

He replays your interactions hunting for the mistake. Did he forget something important? Miss a signal? Are you sick or bored?

Is she pulling away because she’s planning to leave?

The thought stops him in his tracks. His chest aches with it, sharp and sudden. He sits with it, stunned, rubs at his sternum like he can soothe the ache.

You’re still sweet. Still say good luck before he gets into the car. Still text him updates about your day, what podcast you listened to, what ridiculous thing your coworker said. Still fold his shirts when he leaves them in a pile at the foot of the bed. Still laugh at the stupid jokes he makes when he’s overtired. You're still there.

But it’s different. Your body has gone quiet, your touch has gone still. Less warm. Less you.

And Max, who never thought he’d crave something so soft, so intangible starts to feel the absence like a phantom limb, it feels like someone turned off the sun and expects him not to notice. And it terrifies him because he doesn’t know what he did to lose it, or how to ask for it back.

You can feel the ache in your chest growing stronger every day.

You don’t want to stop touching him. You miss touching him. You miss his warmth, the way he instinctively leans into your touch even when he’s focused on something. You miss curling into his lap without thinking, his fingers combing through your hair like it’s second nature.

But now? Every time your hand so much as twitches toward him, doubt rushes in like cold water.

Am I smothering him again? Is this too much? Is this what he meant?

You thought you were just adjusting. Giving him the space you assume he needs. You told yourself it was mature, respectful, kind, but it’s starting to feel less like an adjustment and more like a punishment.

Every second you don’t touch him? It hurts. In tiny, deceptive ways like a thousand paper cuts.

By the end of the next week, you’re sitting on the hotel bed in Jeddah, scrolling through your phone in silence, without reading a word, wrapped in one of his hoodies that still smells like his aftershave. Max pauses when he sees how far you’re sitting from the edge of the mattress. From him.

That’s when he finally speaks.

“Did I do something?”

You blink. “What?”

“You’ve been...” He trails off, eyes searching yours. “Distant.”

You hesitate. “No, I’m just tired.”

He studies your face for a long moment hoping you’ll offer somthing more, but when nothing comes he doesn’t push. Just nods slowly, then climbs into bed beside you.

You don’t cuddle him that night.

You face the other way, pretending to scroll while your chest feels like it’s being wrung out.

Max doesn’t say anything, but you feel the shift, the slight dip of the mattress, the warmth of his body inching closer in the dark, not quite touching. He stops just shy of you, like he wants to reach out but doesn’t know if he’s allowed to, like he’s hoping you’ll turn around and meet him there.

It takes until Sunday night, after the race for everything to crack open.

You’re both back at the hotel. Max steps out of the shower, hair damp and curling slightly at the ends, sweatpants slung low on his hips. You’re perched on the window seat, knees pulled to your chest, phone resting forgotten in your lap as you stare out over Jeddah’s lights.

You think maybe you’ll just go to sleep early. Then Max sits beside you.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just sits close enough to feel the heat off your arm. He’s never been good at this part, the vulnerable bit. The what if it’s in my head bit. The what if I’m asking for something she doesn’t want to give me anymore bit.

The part where he has to name the thing that’s been gnawing at him for weeks. The part where he has to admit he's scared he’s already lost something and just hasn’t caught up to it yet.

He’s spent enough time memorising the way you speak when you're lying. You don’t flinch or fumble. You just get quieter. Softer. Like you’re afraid the truth will hurt more than the silence.

But he needs the truth now, because he’s been tying himself in knots trying to figure it out. Replaying conversations in his head, wondering if he forgot someone’s birthday or crossed a line or said something he shouldn’t have.

And now all he wants is to be close. To be touched. Held. Seen.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, voice low, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

“Yeah…” you say, trailing off.

And then, when you don’t say anything else, something in your eyes flickers and he just knows.

Max’s heart kicks hard in his chest, the kind of lurch he only gets right before lights out. He swallows, throat dry, like he’s one bad move away from losing something he doesn’t know how to live without.

“I miss you,” he says, voice quiet. “Even when you’re right here.”

You close your eyes. Then you look at him, really look, and something in you gives. Like you’ve been carrying a weight for days and it’s finally too much to hold, too much to hide.

“I heard you,” you say.

His brow furrows. “Heard me?”

“On the phone,” you clarify. “With Daniel. A couple of weeks ago”

Max’s pauses for a second, trying to remember, and then his stomach drops.

“You heard that?”

You nod slowly, eyes still on the window. “You said I’m always on you. That I’m really touchy. That you’re not used to it.”

His expression shifts, jaw tight, eyes suddenly filled with something that looks a lot like guilt.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I wasn’t trying to. But after that...” You pull your sleeves over your hands, voice quieter now. “I started wondering if I’d been overwhelming you. If I was too much—”

“Wait, baby—”

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, force you into something you don’t want.” you rush on. “So I’ve been trying to give you space. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

Max’s heart actually hurts.

He didn’t even realise how it might’ve sounded. He remembers the conversation now, half-distracted, casual, him laughing while Daniel joked about your human magnet tendencies. It hadn’t meant anything to him, just a passing comment… but it had meant everything to you.

“Hey,” he says, reaching for your hand. “Look at me.”

You look up. Max’s brows are drawn together. He looks devastated.

“I swear I never meant that in a bad way,” he says. “I wasn’t complaining. I was just… explaining it. I’ve never been with someone as affectionate as you, it caught me off guard at first sure. But I love it. I love the way you love me.”

A beat. His voice softens.

“When you stopped reaching for me, I didn’t know what to do. I’ve been going crazy wondering why it felt like you were slipping away.”

You bite your lip, blinking quickly. “I thought I was just annoying you, that you were putting up with it because you love me, not because you wanted it.”

His forehead drops to yours, hands sliding to your waist, holding tight. “No. God, no. Baby, it’s the best part of my day. You crawling into my lap, always reaching for me. It makes me feel wanted... like I matter, like I make you feel safe.”

He leans back just slightly, fingers sliding to your jaw, cradling it gently.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “If I made you feel like you were too much. If I made you doubt what we have. That was never what I meant. I hate that I hurt you. I hate that you thought you had to pull away from me just to make me comfortable.”

Your lips part slightly, like you're shocked by the weight of his words.

“I didn’t know what to do,” he admits. “Watching you pull away, thinking maybe I’d done something. I was scared I lost you and didn’t even know when it happened.”

“I wasn’t,” you whisper. “I swear I wasn’t pulling away from you… at least not like that, I just thought I was doing the right thing.”

“I know that now,” he says. “But please don’t stop. Don’t ever stop”

Your arms are around him before he finishes the sentence.

He exhales into your neck, like he’s been holding his breath for days. Pulls you into his lap like he’s afraid you’ll vanish again. His hands spread across your back, and for the first time in a while something in him settles.

You crawl further into his lap like it’s where you belong. Arms around his neck. Fingers threading into his hair. He exhales like someone finally handed him back something precious.

“I missed you,” he murmurs, voice muffled against your skin.

“I’m right here.”

He pulls back, eyes soft. “Don’t stop being you, okay? Promise me.”

You nod. “Promise.”

Later, curled up in bed, you trace lazy lines across his chest with your fingertips.

“You really don’t mind?” you ask sleepily.

“Mind?” he echoes, mouth brushing your forehead. “I crave you.”

You smile into his skin, small and shy.

He kisses your hair again. “You ruined me.”

“Good,” you murmur, already drifting.

You’re here. Wrapped around him, where you belong.

And Max? Max feels like he can finally breathe again.

[checkeredflagggs]

Rookie Comfort

Pairing: max verstappen x girlfriend!reader

summary: max and his girlfriend take the 2025 rookies under their wings

a/n: please give these rookies some slack oh my god. This was written during the race — which omg what an opening!!

Masterlist | Taglist

y/n

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 824,623 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

y/n: baby lion coming spring ‘25!

view all comments

user1: oh my god oh my god it’s happening!

↳user2: this is everything I’ve ever wanted

↳user1: same!

oscarpiastri: Congratulations!

↳y/n: thank you!

landonorris: Oh! Congrats! McLaren and Quadrant merch on the way!

↳y/n: nope!

↳landonorris: 😮

↳y/n: listen if this baby is gonna support anyone but their dad, it’s gonna be Ferrari

↳maxverstappen1: no

alex_albon: so has redbull signed baby verstappen yet?

↳y/n: not quite…I told them baby had to sign the papers themselves so it might take a couple of years!

charles_leclerc: Félicitations! Ferrari onesies on the way

↳maxverstappen1: thanks but throw them out.

↳y/n: absolutely do not! Forza Ferrari!

↳user3: max’s girlfriend (and boyfriend) being tifosi just makes sense liked by y/n, charles_leclerc

f1gossip

liked by user, y/n, user and 173,923 others

f1gossip: it seems like Max has adopted some rookies this year!

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user4: ok but that was so cute?

↳user5: right? They followed him around just like ducklings…

y/n: oh this is so adorable ☺️

↳user6: Queen! Is it true that max adopted them?

↳y/n: well even if he hasn’t I now have!

↳charles_leclerc: stop stealing my kid!

↳y/n: take better care of them then!

↳olliebearman: hi mom!

↳y/n: oh hello darling

↳charles_leclerc: 😱

↳olliebearman: sorry but she gave me some ice cream liked by y/n

↳charles_leclerc: i have ice cream??

user7: maxverstappen1 are you aware your girlfriend has decided you’ve adopted some rookies?

↳y/n: some??? No no no we’ve adopted all of them

↳maxverstappen1: have we??

↳y/n: yes we have!

↳maxverstappen1: ok

↳olliebearman: score!

↳gabrielbortoleto_: yes!

↳liamlawson30: does that mean free dinner?

↳isackhadjar: ill take dinner

↳jackdoohan: even me?

↳y/n: absolutely. Dinner on us tonight

↳kimi.antonelli: fantastico!

user8: I see that the winter break has made EVERYONE crazy…

maxverstappen1

liked by y/n, charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 1,823,192 others

tagged: y/n, olliebearman, gabrielbortoleto_, liamlawson30, isackhadjar, jackdoohan, kimi.antonelli

maxverstappen1: dinner with the wife and kids

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user9: DID THEY GET MARRIED AND NOT TELL ANYONE?

↳user10: if they did, they’ve been married for years.

↳user11: yeah max has been calling her wife since they started dating really

user12: im so invested in this family you have no idea

↳user13: big same

charles_leclerc: you didn’t invite me?

↳y/n: well the husband doesn’t usually invite the mistress to dinner with the wife?

↳charles_leclerc: I can bring ice cream over?

↳y/n: oh my god yes please. Baby lion is craving some classic vanilla please

↳user14: you know with everything with the rookies going on i completely forgot y/n is actually pregnant

↳y/n: i wish i could but baby lion is using my ribs as drums…

jackdoohan: thanks for the invite! And for dinner

↳y/n: you have an open invitation darling

↳jackdoohan: thanks! Will definitely be using that

kimi.antonelli: that was some quality pasta!

↳y/n: stamp of approval from our Italian!

↳kimi.antonelli: ehehehe

oscarpiastri: how does one get an invite to dinners like this?

↳charles_leclerc: son?

↳oscarpiastri: sorry dad but that looks very good

↳y/n: you’re welcome to come over as well!

↳charles_leclerc: stop taking my kids! liked by y/n

f1gossip

liked by y/n, user, user, and 824,813 others

tagged: y/n, olliebearman, jackdoohan, isackhadjar, fernandoalo_oficial, gabrielbortoleto_, liamlawson30

f1gossip: and it’s a race weekend that’s not been kind to the 2025 rookies

view all comments

user15: this is so insane…

↳user16: this better not be the entire season. My heart can’t take it…

user17: but ok y/n is working overtime on comforting her rookies

↳user18: the cameramen are doing the lords work on focusing on her

↳user17: I mean it’s not hard — she’s in one place and her rookies are coming to her

↳user18: as they should! She’s like 7 months pregnant

user20: I was biting my nails the entire race…

↳y/n: you were??? I was!

↳user21: how you doing girl?

↳y/n: oh my god so stressed

y/n

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 1,273,183 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

y/n: oh my love what a race this was! But I don’t think I can do it again��

view all comments

olliebearman: did you see my drive today?

↳y/n: I did darling! And you did very well!

↳user22: he was last?!?

↳y/n: and yet he finished the race when so many didn’t? With only 1 full practice session?

gabrielbortoleto_: thanks for being here today!

↳y/n: of course darling! It was a pleasure to see your first race!

↳user23: you’ve really just dove into this motherhood didn’t you?

↳y/n: they’re good practice for baby lion liked by maxverstappen1

oscarpiastri: ok but I’m gonna need a family dinner after today

↳y/n: oh absolutely! You and jack pick the place and we’ll be there!

↳jackdoohan: yes! We gotta go to my favorite!

liamlawson30: where’d you go? I’ve got your water

↳y/n: back to the car — I needed some peace and quiet

↳liamlawson30: On my way!

↳user24: love how they also jumped on the family train too

maxverstappen1: thanks for coming but maybe it’s time to head back home?

↳y/n: but our sons?

↳maxverstappen1: don’t worry. I’ll watch over them

↳charles_leclerc: as will I! Because Ollie is MY son

↳olliebearman: 😊😊😊

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @imlonelydontsendhelp @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff @taylorrrrrrrrrrswiftttt @widow-cevans @1-of-my-many-obsessions @charlesgirl16 @elliegray2803 @anunstablefangirl

[httpsserene]

1-800-HELP-ME-PARK — 𝐜𝐥. 𝟏𝟔 charles leclerc x fem!bipoc!reader smau (ignore dates on tweets pls). fluff, humor & probably crack adjacent. explicit language. two or three uses of "y/n." charles’ canonically questionable parking. reader goes undercover on f1twt. charles gets cyberbullied /jk. big thx to the twt girlies who had threads of charles' bad parking photos ;p

synopsis: fans notice that charles’ cars are suddenly being parked perfectly. come to find out, his (secret) girlfriend has been parking his ferrari like butter.

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚ this is like mid-level charles leclerc stan knowledge. bro put all of his skill points into racepace and forgot about parking his daily cars😭 enjoy reading, my loves xxx

⌕ join taglist | requests & feedback | upcoming chapters | table of contents ↻

instagram • f1fanpagemonaco

liked by arthur_leclerc, lorenzotl, joris__trouche, and 34,785 others

f1fanpagemonaco the planets must be in alignment because charles leclerc has perfectly parked his ferrari this afternoon 😱

tagged charles_leclerc

view comments

user1 i-i can't believe my eyes 😧

user2 it's only taken him a decade to learn how to parallel park LOL

user3 monaco native here! can confirm- his cars have decreased cosplaying as road obstructions for about three months :)

user4 THREE MONTHS ??!!? how is this the first time i'm hearing about this ???

user5 i don't believe this. did anybody SEE him park the car 🤨🤨🤨

user6 we're going to find out this photo was ai generated in a couple weeks haha

user7 take this down !!! we're supposed to keep this on the dl to avoid jinxing ourselves 🤬

user8 fr, i thought every monegasque was in agreement about staying hushed :(

user9 after almost flying over the hood of his cars TWICE on my bicycle- i'm glad that he's improving his parking skills ☺️

user9 HIS BROTHERS AND FRIENDS IN THE LIKES IS EVEN CRAZIER??! CHARLES STAND UP FOR YOURSELF ⁉️⁉️

user8 didn't you just say that you almost crashed into his (badly) parked car in the comment above ? user9 i fail to see how that's relevant rn

user10 charles woke up saying "i understand it now" and performed the best parallel parking known to man

user11 y'all are getting ahead of yourselves. there's a very high chance that it was valet parking 🙄

user5 this is what i'm saying!!! user12 lol what if he decided to hire a private driver 🤣 user13 charles would neverrrrr—remember how he acted on the start-stop challenge we Carlos 👀 user14 he DOES NOT serve passenger princess ☠️

twitter

imessage • charles -> yn

twitter • @ cl16sleftnipple -> yn's undercover fan acct

imessage • yn -> charles

igstory • charles_leclerc has uploaded !

[caption; she accepts watching sunsets on a yacht as a form of payment 😉]

this story is unavailable. get notifications when charles_leclerc shares a story.

igstory • yninstagram has uploaded to their close friends story !

[caption; if anyone is looking for a chauffeur call me at 1-800-HELP-ME-PARK 😅]

franciscacgomes u have to take me on a joyride the next time i'm in monaco !!!

yninstagram yes! we'll ditch the boys for the day and collect some speeding tickets with the stradale ;p

yourfriend do you do weddings 👀

yninstagram weddings, birthdays, bachelor & bachelorette parties, etc. yourfriend how much do you charge? yninstagram 4 cheeseburger

charles_leclerc i thought i hired you for your exclusivity 😑

yninstagram shh mon amour you'll always be my favorite client xoxo

olliebearman if i get him for secret santa next year, i'm gifting him parking lessons 😆

yninstagram you'd be my favorite child if you did 🛐 olliebearman :DDD

instagram • f1fanpagemonaco

liked by arthur_leclerc, lorenzotl, joris__trouche, and 34,785 others

f1fanpagemonaco charles leclerc posts and deletes a photo of an unknown woman to his instagram story in the midst of a rampant discussion of his suddenly improved parking! it's captioned: "she accepts watching sunsets on a yacht as a form of payment." was this an accidental post of the rumored chauffeur that's behind the perfect parking of his vehicles?

tagged charles_leclerc

view comments

user17 the winky face emoji is making me think she's more than just his chauffeur 👀👀👀

user18 we really do need to open the schools :/

user19 bc how do you read the caption and not see that it's blatant confirmation that he's hired a driver?

user20 i don't even have to see behind that champagne flute to know that she's a baddie 😮‍💨

user21 now that i think about it, i think i saw a woman with this exact outfit walking a dachshund that could’ve been leo!!! wish we could see more of her face to confirm ☹️

user22 does anybody else think that this was just meant to distract us from the original issue of charles being unable to park a car???

user23 talk about it!!! user24 i mean it doesn't really matter if he can park anymore now that he's paying somebody to do it for him 🤷‍♀️

twitter • @ cl16sleftnipple -> yn's undercover fan acct

imessage • yn -> charles

instagram • f1fanpagemonaco

liked by arthur_leclerc, lorenzotl, joris__trouche, and 34,785 others

f1fanpagemonaco the plot thickens 😱 the woman rumored to be charles leclerc's chauffer was caught parking his car and taking a photo afterward! this confirms her chauffeur status AND leads many to think that she's also the woman behind @/cl16sleftnipple on twitter. our discord members have hunted down what may be her instagram account too 🧐

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user25 why do i feel so violated!!! his chauffeur has been a double agent the entire time 🤯

user26 tbh charles better be paying her beautifully !!!

user27 iktr bc i would not try to convince everybody on the internet that he can park when it's really me doing all the work!

user28 i think i'm in love with her

user29 who is this diva 💜

user30 next thing you know we're gonna find out she has a tumblr for f1 ff's 😭😭😭

user31 i think somebody is leaking the plot to the next trending netflix original movie 👄

user32 lwk i think i could convince her to drive me around in my prius 🤥

user33 you forget how to speak around hot women and only have $12.32 in your checking acct—you couldn't even convince her to breathe the same air as you bestie 😘 user32 i know you like to think that calling me bestie after reading me to filth will make up for it, but it just makes me want to strangle you even more :)

instagram • charles_leclerc

liked by arthur_leclerc, lorenzotl, joris__trouche, and 34,785 others

charles_leclerc if you're going to reveal who cl16sleftnipple is, at least get her job title correct 😠 she's not my chauffeur, she's my girlfriend and parking princess 👸🏾🤗😘🥰🤭🤤😚

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yninstagram can you believe that he doesn't like when i drive but he BEGS me to park ??? make it make sense 😅

charles_leclerc ma chérie you REFUSE to use the break pedal!!! yninstagram break pedals are 4 losers (i am speed 🏎)

user35 GIRLFRIEND???!!! 😵‍💫😵👻

user36 when you say girlfriend, do you mean that she's a friend who happens to be a girl orrrrrrrrrr?

charles_leclerc orrrrr girlfriend meaning l'amour de ma vie 🥰🥰🥰

user37 two pretty people in a happy relationship? 2025 isn't so bad 😌

user36 maybe the world is healing 🥹 user37 maybe charles leclerc wdc 2025 🫣 yninstagram pls don't jinx it 😩 go knock on wood rn 🫵🏾

user38 why did she go with "cl16sleftnipple" as her username???

yninstagram because it's my favorite one obv 😇 charles_leclerc what's wrong with my right nipple :(((( yninstagram idk it just looks at me weird sometimes... user38 how does a body part look at you weirdly 😀

user39 oh, this baddie is weird? say less, i'm sending her my credit card information rn

user40 charles leclerc core LMFAOOO

user41 waiiiiitttt does this mean she's not gonna use her fan acct anymore :(

user42 aw man i didn't even think about that; i was constantly on twt just to see what funny shit she was saying lol yninstagram if the people want more of cl16sleftnipple who am i to deny them 😌👐🏾

instagram • yninstagram

liked by arthur_leclerc, lorenzotl, joris__trouche, and 34,785 others

yninstagram AITA for saving the citizens of monaco by parking my (25 F) boyfriend's (27 M) cars for him because he's incapable of fitting within two lines without being a road hazard?

comments on this post have been limited

yourfriend TLDR: she lost the plot by starting a fan twt to try and save her bf's reputation (who's notoriously known for his shit parking) it backfired bc everybody thought she was his chauffeur

yourfriend (cont.) now charles has to suffer with the world knowing that he has his gf position his cars AND that he still can't park charles_leclerc this wasn't necessary 😒 yourfriend is that what you said when it was time to learn how to parallel park ☠️

lilymhe reminds me of the time charles blocked traffic picking you up from brunch last year 😆

franciscacgomes i remember when the honks started and yn was like "oh, that probably means charles is here!" lilyzneimer first brunch i went to with the wags and i left with tinnitus from the sound of car horns blaring 🥲 yninstagram sorry little lily! next meet up will be honk free :) yninstagram ...was v embarrassing to get into the car that's blocking traffic 🫠

oscarpiastri NTA 👍🏻

oscarpiastri is now a good time to say that charles almost backed his car into me before padel yesterday? charles_leclerc NO IT WILL NEVER BE A GOOD TIME TO SAY THAT yninstagram mb the electric scooter wasn't such a bad idea…

maxverstappen1 NTA 😹😹😹

lando thinking about how much money charles loses to parking fines 🤣

olliebearman not to pray on his downfall but

olliebearman when his license gets suspended can i get the spider 🥺 arthurleclerc NUH UH 🙅🏻‍♂️ i get the spider and you get the sf90 oscarpiastri i'll take the daytona then 👍🏻 pierregasly i think i can make room for the roma 😌 charles_leclerc yeah this isn't praying, it's PLANNING on my downfall 😒😒😒

© httpsserene — do not reupload. photos used in header and throughout are from pinterest. divider by @cafekitsune.

[rubywillkins]

Mocha with a shot of espresso, skim and almond milk

Fish and chips, hot dog

Beef tenderloin, chicken parmesan, tomato roasted garlic pie and ham carbonara

Club soda

Served by Arthur Leclerc please <3

Sure Darling ♥️

Arthur Leclerc|

Burning Curves

Pairing Arthur leclerc × fem reader

Warning smut, arguments, rough

Mocha enemies to lover (rivals) shot of espresso Rough sex skim milk dry humping almond milk vaginal sex Fish and chips hickeys hot dog size kink Beef tenderloin “I won’t apologise for marking you up, everyone should know you’re taken.” chicken parmesan “I’m going to fucking ruin you.” tomato roasted garlic pie “I don’t want anyone else. No one else can make me feel like you do.” ham carbonara “It’s hot when you talk back” Club soda pillow talk

"My lover's got humor..." and "I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife" feel exactly like two people who hate how much they want each other.. don't they darlin?

The Monaco sun blazed down on the narrow circuit, but nothing burned hotter than the rivalry between Arthur Leclerc and Y/N — two of the most aggressive drivers in the Formula 2 paddock.

From the very first race of the season, their tension had been magnetic — dangerous. She was quick, ruthless, calculating. He was fiery, relentless, impossibly talented. And neither could stand the other.

Not publicly, anyway.

Every press conference was a battle of thinly veiled insults. Every overtaking move felt personal. And every time they ended up on the podium together, the air crackled like static.

Everyone in the paddock thought they hated each other. Everyone believed it was just venom, just rivalry.

They were half right.

Race Day – Monaco GP

Lap 27. Tight chicane. Both gunning for P2. Arthur made a bold dive. She didn’t yield — she never did.

They collided.

Carbon fiber exploded in the air. Wheels locked. Screams erupted from radios. The crowd gasped.

Double DNF.

Arthur stormed from his wrecked car, helmet still on. Y/N ripped hers off as she climbed out, eyes locked on him like daggers. No words exchanged. Just fire.

She followed him. Cameras caught it — her storming through the garage. But not what came next.

Arthur’s Driver Room – Moments Later

He slammed the door behind him, pacing like a caged animal. He hadn’t even taken his suit off when the door burst open again.

Y/N.

Soaked in sweat, still in her race suit, hair messy and lips parted with pure fury.

“You absolute idiot,” she hissed. “What the hell was that?”

Arthur whirled around. “Me? You cut me off.”

“You dove like a desperate rookie.”

“You left the door wide open!”

“You’re unbelievable!”

They were shouting now. Close. Too close. The room felt like it shrank.

"You ruin everything, Leclerc."

"Only because you can't handle me getting ahead of you."

"I'd rather DNF than let you win!"

"Funny. Because you just did."

Her hand shoved his chest. Hard. He grabbed her wrist before she could do it again.

“Let go,” she spat, breath hot.

“Make me,” he said low, voice thick.

The pause was electric. Tension snapped like a whip.

Then, chaos.

Lips crashed. Bodies collided harder than their cars had. It wasn’t soft or sweet — it was months of repressed heat and grudges spilling out between gasps and groans. Gloves dropped. Zippers yanked. She pushed him against the wall. He didn’t fight it.

Her back hit the door with a thud as his mouth found her neck. “Still hate me?” he muttered, voice raspy.

“More than ever,” she gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t stop.”

He dug his thick fingers into her upper arms, coalescing his desires into a single guttural rumble. “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

Her eyes flashed. Her chest heaved. She loved it. She had dreamed of this all those nights that she spent alone. Her legs spread for him. Her hips thrust up to meet his. His hands slid down towards her waist, then lower still. He grabbed her ass, squeezing it hard. He was rough and she wanted it. She wanted more.

She whispered in his ear. He could feel her breath on his skin. “I won’t apologize for marking you up. Everyone should know you’re taken.”

His cock throbbed. He wanted her. He wanted to ravage her. He wanted to leave his mark all over her body. She eyed Arthur’s sizable bulge as he tightened his hands against her ass. She desperately wished for his hands to replace the fabric that was between them. She wrapped her arms around his neck. She felt his long, hard length pressing into her stomach. Arthur Leclerc was finally ready to fuck her — and she could not wait.

Arthur’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, pulling her against him. She gasped, her nails raking down his back. “I don’t want anyone else,” she panted. “No one else can make me feel like you do.”

Arthur growled, a low, primal sound that sent shivers down her spine. “It’s hot when you talk back,” he grunted, his lips crashing onto hers. His tongue forced its way into her mouth, claiming her, dominating her. She melted into him, her body pressing against his, feeling his hardness against her stomach.

He ground against her, his hips moving in a brutal, punishing rhythm. She could feel every inch of him, thick and hard, pressing into her. She moaned, her hips bucking to meet his, their clothes creating a frustrating barrier. He pulled away from her lips, his teeth clamping down on her neck, sucking hard. She cried out, her fingers tangling in his hair, holding him to her as he marked her.

His hands roamed her body, squeezing, gripping, possessive. He left her neck, his mouth trailing down to her collarbone, biting and sucking until she was sure he’d leave a mark. She didn’t care. She wanted everyone to see. To know she was his.

He pushed her back against the table, his body pinning hers. She could feel his cock, hot and hard, grinding against her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him closer, wanting more friction, more pressure. He obliged, his hips moving faster, harder. She could feel her panties growing wet, her body aching for him. He was big, and he knew it. He used it, rubbing himself against her, teasing her with what was to come. She could feel her orgasm building, her body tensing, her breath hitching. He was going to make her come, right here, right now, with nothing but his body and his words. She was close, so close. His hips moved faster, his teeth biting down on her neck, and she came undone, her body convulsing, her scream echoing through the Room.

He pulled back, his chest heaving, a savage grin on his face. She was breathless, her body still pulsing with the aftershocks of her orgasm. He leaned in, his voice a low murmur, "Everyone gonna fucking know that you're mine now. You scream like that for anyone else, I'll kill them."

She smiled weakly, her body still trembling. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her upright, his other hand possessively on her hip.

She looked up at him, her eyes glazed with lust and satisfaction. He smiled down at her, his fingers tracing patterns on her thighs. "You're fucking incredible," he murmured. "I've never seen anyone come like that."

She blushed, her fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. "It's been a while," she admitted. "And you're... impressive."

He chuckled, his fingers moving to unbutton her shirt. "I aim to please," he said, his eyes locked on hers. He leaned down, his lips capturing hers in a soft, gentle kiss, a stark contrast to the brutal intensity of their earlier encounter. She melted into him, her body responding to his touch, her hips arching up to meet his.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down her neck, her collarbone, his teeth nibbling at her flesh. She moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair, her body arching under his. He moved lower, his tongue circling her nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak. She gasped, her body writhing under his touch. He moved to her other breast, his hand squeezing the first, his fingers rolling her nipple between them. She was panting, her body on fire, her hips grinding against his.

He moved lower still, his tongue tracing patterns on her stomach, his fingers hooking into her waistband. She lifted her hips, allowing him to pull her pants down, her panties following soon after. He tossed them aside, his eyes feasting on her naked body. He leaned down, his tongue tracing her inner thigh, his breath hot on her skin. She shivered, her body anticipating his touch. He looked up at her, his eyes dark with lust. "I'm going to make you come again," he promised, his voice a low growl. "And again. And again." He leaned down, his tongue finding her clit, his fingers parting her folds. She cried out, her body convulsing as he began to feast on her, his tongue and fingers working in tandem, driving her wild.

His tongue worked her expertly, circling and flicking her clit until she was a writhing mess beneath him. She gripped his hair, her hips bucking against his mouth as he slid two fingers inside her, curling them to hit that sweet spot. She gasped, her body tensing as he brought her to the edge again.

"I want you inside me," she panted, pulling at his shirt. He looked up, a wicked grin on his face, and stood, quickly shedding his clothes. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, and she reached for him, her fingers wrapping around his shaft. He groaned, his hips jerking forward as she stroked him.

He crawled over her, his body covering hers, his cock pressing against her entrance. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer, urging him inside. He thrust into her, his hips moving in a steady, punishing rhythm. She moaned, her body stretching to accommodate him, her walls clenching around him. He was big, and it was a delicious kind of pain, a sensation she craved.

He leaned down, his lips capturing hers in a fierce kiss, his tongue mimicking the movements of his hips. She met his thrusts, her body moving in sync with his, their flesh slapping together, the room filled with the sound of their raw, primal fucking.

His hand snaked between them, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in tight circles. She gasped, her body tensing, her orgasm building. He felt it, his hips moving faster, harder, his fingers working her relentlessly. She came with a scream, her body convulsing around him, her walls milking his cock. He groaned, his body tensing, his cock pulsing as he came with her, his hot seed spilling inside her.

He collapsed on top of her, his body slick with sweat, his breath ragged. She wrapped her arms around him, her body still pulsing with the aftershocks of her orgasm. He rolled off her, pulling her into his arms, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her skin.

"I think you broke me," she murmured, her body boneless and spent.

He chuckled, his lips pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Good. You're mine now. Don't forget it."

She smiled, her eyes fluttering closed. "As if I could."

He pulled her closer, his body spooning hers, his arm draped possessively over her hip. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of her neck, his voice a low murmur. "You're incredible. I've never had anyone like you."

She blushed, her body warming at his words. "Neither have I," she admitted, her voice soft. "You're... intense."

He chuckled, his fingers tracing patterns on her hip. "I aim to please," he said, his voice a low rumble. "And I plan on doing a lot more of that."

He pulled her closer, his body pressing against hers, his cock already stirring, ready for more. She smiled, her body responding to his touch, her hips arching back to meet his. The night was still young, and she was far from done with him.

[ari-ana-bel-la]

could you write a dad!Oscar who we know is private but the other drivers dont know he has a kid till he invites them over his house and when lily or oscar open the door yn is there in her walker lookig up at them exacly like Oscar (bonus if they have a pet the other drivers are scared of but yn is fascinated with it)

The secret daughter

The post-race dinner invite had taken everyone by surprise.

Oscar wasn’t exactly known for being social. Quiet? Definitely. Polite? Always. But throwing casual dinner parties? That was new. So when he casually mentioned in the paddock after the Australian Grand Prix, Hey, if you're around, come over to mine for dinner tonight, the rest of the drivers had stared at him like he’d just grown a second head.

"Are you serious?" Lando asked, raising a brow.

Oscar had just nodded, offering that small, elusive smile of his. "Yeah. Should be fun."

Max had squinted at him. "You? Hosting dinner? Are we sure this isn’t some elaborate prank?"

Oscar just shrugged. "Come or don’t. Up to you."

Of course, they were going to come. They couldn’t resist the mystery.

---

It was nearly sunset when the group pulled up to a modest but beautiful house nestled into the outskirts of the city. Australia had always had its charm—open skies, endless greenery, and that unmistakable warmth in the air that hinted at home. Daniel, retired now and visiting the paddock just for old time’s sake, had tagged along with the group, grinning like a kid.

"You know, I’m proud of the kid," he said as they stepped out of the car. "Hosting a dinner, inviting people over. He’s evolving."

George adjusted his collar and glanced at the front door. "Are we sure we have the right house?"

"Looks about right," Charles said, holding a bottle of wine. "He texted the address."

Max leaned on the car. "Well, someone go knock then."

"You knock," Lando shot back.

"You’re closer."

With a dramatic sigh, Lando marched up to the door and knocked twice. They waited. Silence. Then a faint rustling.

The door swung open.

A little girl, no older than three, stood in the doorway. Brown curls framed her cherubic face, and her wide eyes blinked up at them in a serious sort of way—exactly like Oscar’s. Her expression was so deadpan that for a moment, no one said a word.

"Uh... hi?" George offered awkwardly.

The girl stared at them.

"She looks just like him," Charles whispered.

"She can’t be..." Lando murmured.

"You guys coming in or what?" she said, voice tiny but confident.

Before anyone could respond, she turned and darted back into the house. "DADDY! The tall people are here!"

Five grown men stood frozen on the doorstep, processing.

"Did she just call him Daddy?" Max blinked.

"She did, right?" Lando asked, eyes wide.

Daniel let out a loud bark of laughter. "Holy shit. Oscar has a kid."

Inside, Oscar appeared, as calm as ever, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. "Hey. You guys found the place. Come in."

"You have a child," George said bluntly.

Oscar blinked. "Yeah?"

"You never said anything," Lando said, eyes still trailing after the small child, who had now settled on the couch with a juice box.

Oscar tilted his head, bemused. "You never asked."

"Seriously?! That’s your excuse?" Max asked, walking in, still stunned.

Oscar shrugged. "I don’t go around asking if you guys have secret families."

"It’s not a secret if she opens the door for us," Charles said.

Daniel was grinning ear to ear. "Mate. You legend. I didn’t know you had it in you."

"Thanks, I think," Oscar said dryly.

Lando had crouched slightly, watching the little girl with fascination. She glanced up at him, unblinking.

"Hi," Lando said.

"Hi," she replied.

"I’m Lando. What’s your name?"

"Yn."

"That’s a pretty name."

She took a long sip of her juice box. "Wanna see my pet?"

Lando blinked. "Uh... sure."

Oscar looked up from where he was arranging some bowls. "You don’t have to say yes, by the way."

Lando, determined, shook his head. "No, it’s okay. I like pets. Is it a bunny? A hamster?"

Yn grinned, then skipped over to the corner where a small terrarium sat.

"Larry!" she sang. "Come say hi!"

The group watched in silent horror as she reached into the glass box and pulled out a tiny, coiled snake.

Lando backed up so fast he nearly tripped over Max. "WHAT THE HELL?!"

Yn cradled the snake lovingly. "This is Larry. He’s my best friend."

Max looked at Oscar like he’d grown another head. "You let your toddler have a snake?!"

Oscar glanced over. "He’s non-venomous. Very chill. Yn loves him."

Charles had pressed himself against the nearest wall. George was hovering behind the couch like it could protect him. Daniel, meanwhile, looked delighted.

"She’s a true Aussie," Daniel said proudly. "Respect the reptile."

Yn patted Larry's head and brought him closer to Lando. "You can pet him if you want."

"I think I’m good," Lando squeaked.

Oscar crossed his arms, one eyebrow raised. "Scared of a baby snake, huh?"

"He looked at me with malice in his eyes."

"Larry doesn’t even have eyelids," Oscar deadpanned.

Daniel clapped Oscar on the shoulder. "Fatherhood suits you. You’re terrifying. I love it."

The evening carried on with more laughter than anyone expected. Yn eventually let Larry rest back in his enclosure, and Oscar set up a makeshift kids' table where she could eat her nuggets and carrots. The rest of the group sat around the main table, eyes occasionally drifting back to the little girl who had rocked their worlds in under five minutes.

"So, uh... how old is she?" George asked cautiously, sipping his drink.

"Three and a half," Oscar said.

"And... you and Lily?"

Oscar nodded. "Yeah. We kept it quiet. Wanted some normalcy."

"She’s adorable," Charles said. "I mean. Scary, with the snake. But adorable."

"She is," Oscar said, and for the first time that evening, his voice softened. Everyone noticed.

Yn ran back into the room at one point, straight to Daniel, crawling into his lap like it was the most natural thing.

"Uncle Dan," she said sweetly.

"Hey, sunshine," Daniel replied, instantly melting.

Lando looked betrayed. "Uncle Dan?"

Daniel smirked over Yn's curls. "Some of us got in early."

"I want to be her favorite," Lando muttered.

"Should’ve petted the snake, mate," Max said with a grin.

Oscar leaned back, watching the group. For the first time in a while, he looked completely at ease. Maybe it had always been like this behind the scenes—the quiet life, the family, the snake.

But now that the secret was out, no one was going anywhere. They were hooked.

"So," George said later, holding a brownie, "next time we hang out at yours, should we bring mice? Or are snakes allergic to snacks?"

Oscar rolled his eyes. "You guys are ridiculous."

Yn peeked around the corner. "Uncle Lando? Larry misses you."

Lando visibly paled. The room erupted in laughter.

Oscar just smirked.

"Told you. She’s a real Aussie."

And that, they all agreed, was terrifyingly accurate.

Extra

The drivers reaction to meeting Oscars daughter:

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-♡○♡

[anonf1writer]

what about you and the drivers kid steals your phone just to text the driver 🤭

f1 text au — reader’s kid steals their phone to text the driver

────────────

drivers: max, charles, oscar, lando

note¹: omg I had so much fun with this one! lol inspired in actual real conversations I had with my nephews in the past (specially oscar’s lmao)

note²: I wanted to explore more of the single parent universe so I twisted it a little, but the idea is still there (I hope you don’t mind)

note³: I know I'm obsessed with details but please don’t check time stamps for this one okayyy thanks (I didn’t want to waste so much time changing them so I didn’t and now it’s bothering me lol)

anyway,

hope you enjoyyy 🫶

────────────

MAX! + CHARLES!

────────────

OSCAR!

────────────

LANDO!

────────────

[landoughnut]

Thunderstruck - LN4

masterlist - request

pairing: lando norris x dcc!fem!reader (fc - reece :)

summary: lando goes to a cowboys game and spots, as he puts it, "his future wife" and just has to ask her out

w/c & a/n: smau | please send in smau requestssss 🫶

lando

liked by maxfewtrell, mclaren, carlossainz55, oscarpiastri, and 4,197,027 others lando was convinced to see an american football game 😎 📸: maxfewtrell

view all comments

logansargeant THIS IS WHAT I LIKE TO SEE 🔥🇺🇸 ♥︎ by author

user1 RAHHH 🏈🦅

maxfewtrell don't the the caption fool you all

maxfewtrell he watched the game until he spotted one of the cheerleaders and after that he spent the rest of the game trying to find her on google

lando WHY ARE YOU OUTTING ME ON MY OWN POST???

oscarpiastri poor girl should run while she can 😔

lando oscarpiastri HEY ⁉️

carlossainz55 does little lando norris have a crush 😏

lando no.

lando although she was the most beautiful girl I've ever seen 😻

lando can you guys help me find her she's going to be my future wife

user2 bro had one look and decided their future😭

user3 what did she look like?

lando kinda tan with medium length brown hair 😍

user4 hmm that gets rid of a decent amount

maxverstappen1 I'm surprised he didn't try to make a move

maxfewtrell trust me he tried, this idiot attempted jumping over the railing but security yelled at him

user5 maxfewtrell LMAOAOOOAOAOAO HE WAS HYPNOTIZED FR

oscarpiastri please find her lily is excited now that she might have a "paddock bestie" ♥︎ by author

lando TRUST ME MATE IM TRYINGG

user6 aw lily's so cute 🥹

user7 was it julissa.garcia1?

lando no

user7 lando was it leatunnell ??

lando user7 nope

user7 lando how about kellyvillares

lando user7 UGHHH no

leatunnell lando was is my girl yourusername ??

lando leatunnell OH MY GOSH YES THATS HER OMG OMG OMG

maxfewtrell leatunnell what have you done 😞

yourusername

liked by lando, dccheerleaders, leatunnell, maxfewtrell, and 4,197,027 others yourusername amazing game and performance tonight! 💙

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user8 STUNNERRRRR

dccherleaders beauty! 💙 ♥︎ by author

lando 🤤🤤🤤

user9 her face card never declines

lando I know right

user9 lando ohhhh brotherrrr😭

leatunnell my gorgeous best friend 😻💋 ♥︎ by author

yourusername I love you!!

lando I see my future and it's almost as bright as your smile

maxfewtrell IM FUVJING CRYING WHST IS THIS POERTY

user10 the sweetest girl EVERRR

lando WOW 🤩 run me over please 🙏

lando if she smiled at me I think I'd pass out tbh

user11 you know what real

maxfewtrell lando mate you cannot be serious...

oscarpiastri maxfewtrell I feel he's being fr 😢

lando please notice me I need to shoot my shot 😪

lando GNAWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE

maxfewtell carlossainz55 take his phone away please I know you're near each other

carlossainz55 maxfewtrell on it 🫡 lando stop this you're giving me second hand embarrassment

kellyvillares the prettiest angel 🫶 ♥︎ by author

yourusername thats all you baby!!

lando yourusername don't you call her baby 😔

danielricciardo lando mate are you quoting harry styles...?

user12 he's gone too deep now

leatunnell babe do you not see the man thirsting in your comments 😭

yourusername what?? who?

lando yourusername ME ‼️‼️ HELLOOO PRETTY LADY

maxverstappen1 lando🤦🏼‍♂️🤦🏼‍♂️

yourusername lando hi ⁉️ who are you

lando yourusername your future husband 🫠 and an f1 driver on the side ♥︎ by author

yourusername lando oh cool :)

lando yourusername so when are we going out?

yourusername lando uhhhh

lando

liked by yourusername, maxfewtrell, carlossainz55, and 3,956,308 others lando and this is what being desperate gets me 🫦

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user13 LMAOAOAOAOAO THE FIRST PICTURE

maxfewtrell that was lando recreating his reaction when he first saw her 🤓

dccherleaders we love you both!

carlossainz55 AYYYY LITTLE LANDO NORRIS IS ALL GROWN UP 

lando you had no faith in me but look at where I am now 🙂

user14 awhhhh they're so cute omg

leatunnell 😍😍

leatunnell so obsessed with you guys

yourusername love you so much babe

maxverstappen1 I'm flabbergasted that she wants to date you

lando thats rude 😾

maxverstappen1 lando rude or true?😸

user15 when will it be my turn to have a man fall in love with me at first sight 😪

user16 omg the second and third pictures are soooo 😩

lando oh yeah also shoutout to maxfewtrell 🫡 he's the reason I went to that football game

yourusername biggest thanks to you max, I'll get you tickets for the rest of the season 💙

maxfewtrell yourusername THANK YOUUU I LOVE YOU GUYS ♥︎ by author

danielricciardo I'm not gonna lie... I did NOT see this relationship actually happening

lando WHY DOES NO ONE HAVE FAITH IN ME 💔

maxfewtrell lando because if it were my post you were commenting those things under I'd call the cops and then file a restraining order

yourusername maxfewtrell I was going to but I secretly looked at his account when I saw his first comment and thought he was very handsome

lando yourusername YOU SAW ALL MY COMMENTS AND IGNORED THEM?????

yourusername lando of course! had to make a man work for it a bit ;) ♥︎ by author

oscarpiastri you guys are cute until you start being all over each other around the garage

lando sue me for being in love

yourusername lando awhhhh 🥹 ♥︎ by author

user17 lando is such a golden retriever bf and honestly she's also giving golden retriever gf ♥︎ by author

user18 the way whenever I see pics and vids of them online they're ALWAYS smiling at each other with literally heart eyes

user19 I KNOWWWW IT'S ADORABLE 🫠

[ham1lton]

NOT A CHILL GIRL.

pairings: lewis hamilton x chronically online fiancée!yn

faceclaim: jordana brewster

summary: chronically online, funniest on the grid, and the proud owner of a face card that never declines—at least, according to yourself. your fiancé might raise an eyebrow at the first claim, the world might debate the second, but no one’s arguing with the third.

warnings: just jokes. don’t take any of this seriously.

author’s note: hope u enjoy bunny anon! :D

— small smau spinoff !

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

liked by lewishamilton, yourinstagram and 187,938 others.

ham1ltonshaderoom: celebrity stylist, and fiancée of f1 legend lewis hamilton, yn yln took to instagram stories to share some concerning posts. what do we think about these captions, ham1ltons?

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yourinstagram MAMA I MADE IT

— user1 yn you have dressed some of the top celebrities and this is what you’re excited over??

— user2 forget that. she’s fucking LEWIS HAMILTON!!! and this is what she’s excited over???

user3 this is a v tame post for yn LMFAO

— user4 like she’s posted worse 😭

user5 she’s so unserious i’m obsessed

— user6 my fav wag

user7 i love the fact she’s dressing zendaya, showing up to her hot fiancé’s races and still finds time to shitpost

— user8 she’s so me

user9 she should be embarrassed. she’s grown

— user10 she will never see this btw

user11 i need to know lewis’ thoughts on these posts

user12 she’s the moment. i want to be her so bad.

— user13 successful in her own right AND secured the bag. #needtoBEthat

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

INSTAGRAM LIVE

yn i’m using lewis’ ninja creami to make slushies and sydney isn’t picking up her phone because she’s on set. so entertain me, my little gladiators.

user1 what flavour slushie are you making and why is it pure tequila

yn no. it’s a margarita mix. mostly anyways. all about balance babes.

user2 worst red carpet outfit request you’ve ever gotten?

yn girl some actor asked me to dress him up in head to toe camo… i wanted to be sick.

user3 yn, when’s the wedding? lewis is literally ready to propose again.

yn not until jungkook confirms he’s off the market. i need to know i’m not leaving options on the table.

user4 did you see lando’s post underneath your birthday post to lewis.

yn i did and i’m angry. how dare he be funnier than me on my own shitpost.

user5 who’s better at gift-giving, you or lewis?

yn me. obviously. lewis once got me a pen because “it looked sleek.” it was a nice pen, but still a pen.

user6 yn, if you could style anyone in history, who would it be?

yn harry styles but in 2012. imagine the chaos if he let me near those blazers.

user7 how did you guys meet?

yn via a mutual friend at a party. i thought his choice of shoes was disastrous and he thought i was funny. so obviously i went home with him that night. then i fell in love or whatever.

user8 you are literally the blueprint for chaotic but lovable. never change.

yn never will, little gladiator. never will.

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

liked by yourinstagram, thirstystan1 and 1,098,125 others.

lewishamilton: sunday best, thank you theststyle

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yourinstagram why won’t this damn app swipe RIGHT?!?!?

— lewishamilton wrong app sweetheart

— yourinstagram oh shit 😓 can you show me how to download the right one? ever since ashley madison shut down and farmersonly.com banned me for “unsolicited flirting,” it’s been tough out here.

— lewishamilton maybe try clownsonly.com—heard they’re taking new members.

— yourinstagram wow. this from the guy who once googled “how to impress a bad bitch” and got caught.

— lewishamilton a bad bitch was impressed, wasn’t she? checkmate.

— yourinstagram yeah, well, don’t get used to it. also, happy valentine’s, loser. 💖

— lewishamilton happy valentine’s, clown. ❤️

— user1 y’all are some weirdos 😭🩷

user2 YN GIVE HIM TO MEEEEEE

user3 #NEEDTHAT

— yourinstagram #TOOBAD

— user3 YN PLEASE 😭😭😭😭😭😭

user4 need this relationship NOW

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

— all works taglist: @luvsforme @yelenasloverrrrr @donttouchthegnote @chelle1306 @bloodyymaryy @km-23mr @stinkyjax @f1kenzzz @ctrlyomomma @aliciaablueprint @theblueblub @namgification @tallrock35 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ariellovelynn @shhhchriss @lifeless-firefly @xylinasdiary @evie-119 @itseightbeats @landososcar @velentine @m1892 @blushmimi @evans-dejong @nixisracing @lethalvenus @sainzluvrr @santanasaintmendes @idontknowlmaoo @sainzluvrr @tetetoni @ssprayberrythings @heavy-vettel @tashisgf @daniskywalkersolo @c-losur3 @lestappenslover @linoscrly (see yourself tagged when you don’t wanna be? or you want to be and don’t see yourself? send me an ask!)

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

[0scarp1astr1]

 ˖ 𐔌 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬࿐ .۫

જ⁀➴ Desc: || Lando is loving his new life as a family man, making time and moments with them count. With his baby girl in the picture now, life couldn't be more perfect. Until, the media crosses a line it shouldn't. ||

Change it all ((Read First if you haven't))

ᯓ★ (Husband!) Lando Norris x Fem! (Wife) Reader

ᯓ★ 1x Genre: Fluff, Angst

ᯓ★ Warning: Sad Sebastian, pissed off Lando, but nothing really major.

ᯓ★ Requested? Yes

Author Note: Here for you all! Maybe one day, I can make a fic where all the kids to the drivers spend time together. Feel free to request any time you want. Here is Lando being a dad again, and by far a good one.

☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★

It was early morning in the Norris flat nestled in the hills of Monaco, where the sky glowed with a soft pastel light and the sea reflected gold from the slowly rising sun. The hush of dawn hadn’t yet been broken — the kind of peace that felt borrowed, fleeting, like the quiet before a favorite song starts. It was moments like these that made everything feel real. Lando’s arm was draped across your waist, his breath warm against your shoulder, the covers tangled between your legs.

What was once a sleek and stylish bachelor’s flat had transformed into something entirely different over the past few years — still elegant, still Monaco — but lived-in now, softened by crayon marks on walls that wouldn’t wash off, scattered Lego bricks in the corners, and the sound of little feet that never really stopped moving.

What remained just as surreal as the view outside was how completely Lando had embraced his role as a father — to both your children. He had stepped into Sebastian’s life when your son was only three, never once blinking at the challenge of loving a child that wasn’t biologically his. And now, with Lyla — his own daughter — nothing had changed. If anything, he seemed more determined to make sure Sebastian never felt a difference. He claimed him proudly, in every interview, every post, every loving gesture that quietly said: this boy is mine.

You felt his fingers flex sleepily around your waist, his face buried into your neck.

“I hear those feet…” you murmured with a tired grin.

Lando groaned in reply, eyes still shut, his curls tickling your shoulder as he shifted. “I’ll count down from five…”

You laughed softly. “No need. They’re moving at the speed of light.”

Before either of you could react, the door swung open with the force of a hurricane. Seven-year-old Sebastian shot into the room like a missile, socks skidding against hardwood before he leapt onto the bed with zero hesitation. The mattress bounced with the impact, jostling both of you as Lando let out a dramatic oof and you burst into giggles.

Trailing behind him, in a much gentler and wobblier fashion, was Lyla — her two-year-old curls still tousled from sleep, thumb halfway to her mouth, but her determination never wavering. She used the edge of the bed to hoist herself up, little knees clambering with practiced effort until she was nestled beside you.

Sebastian grinned wide, face already lit with excitement. “Do you know what today is?!” he asked, bouncing on his knees as if it were Christmas morning.

Lando blinked sleepily at him. “Hmm… let me guess, buddy… your birthday?”

Sebastian collapsed dramatically across Lando’s chest. “Nooo! Guess again!”

“My birthday?” Lando teased, pointing at himself.

Sebastian giggled, shaking his head. “No, Daddy! It’s practice day! For my race!”

Lando gasped with mock horror. “You’re right! How could I forget? That’s way more important than a birthday!”

You watched them with a smile, pulling Lyla into your arms as she giggled softly and tucked her head under your chin. You kissed the top of her curls and rocked gently.

“Well, you two boys have a busy day,” you said with a knowing smirk.

Lando shook his head, sitting up with Sebastian still draped across him like a backpack. “We all do! Come on, let’s go out afterward! Make a day of it.”

You raised a brow. “You know how Lyla does in public,” you said gently, voice full of motherly concern. “She gets overwhelmed, and—”

He reached for your hand, his thumb brushing soft circles across your palm. “I’ll be there. I’ve got her. I’ve got all of you. Always.” His voice was low but full of that quiet conviction that never failed to ground you.

You leaned in, kissing him softly. A moment shared — peaceful and full of promise.

“Ew!” Sebastian whined loudly, slapping his hands over his eyes. “Mommy, don’t! That’s so nasty!”

You and Lando burst out laughing, the kind that made your ribs hurt and your heart feel full.

“Okay, you two,” you said, wiping your eyes as you sat up straighter. “Time to get moving. I’m in charge of breakfast this morning. And Daddy…” you glanced at Lando with a smug smile, “…is on bath duty.”

Sebastian groaned. “Noooo! He takes forever! He sings and makes it a whole concert!”

Lando threw up his hands. “Hey, those bath-time concerts are award-winning, thank you very much!”

Lyla clapped her hands together and squealed, “Dada!” as she wrapped her arms around his neck, giggling as Sebastian squished himself into the cuddle pile, too.

You watched them — your people. Your chaotic, messy, absolutely perfect morning crew — and for the thousandth time, you felt that deep swell in your chest. Not just love. Not just gratitude.

You moved with ease around the kitchen, the familiar rhythm of cooking grounding you as the smell of cinnamon, scrambled eggs, and warm toast filled the air. The stovetop sizzled softly, and you balanced flipping pancakes with keeping an ear open for the usual chaos that trailed your mornings like a shadow.

Lyla was happily soaking in the tub just down the hall, her rubber duckies bobbing lazily across the sea of bubbles. You could hear her humming to herself, splashing now and then, her high-pitched giggles bouncing off the tiled walls. Meanwhile, from the adjacent bedroom, came the sound of father and son negotiations — or, more accurately, a fashion debate.

“All the girls are gonna want me looking this good!” Sebastian declared proudly, his voice echoing slightly through the open doors.

Lando laughed. “You're absolutely right, champ. It’s exactly how I won over your mom.”

You paused mid-stir, brow raised, lips twitching into a half-smile as you rolled your eyes toward the ceiling. “He’s really using that line this early in the morning?” you muttered to yourself, shaking your head with amusement.

“She fell hard for the curls,” Lando continued dramatically, fluffing Sebastian’s hair as if he were preparing him for a red carpet event.

“I knew it!” Sebastian said, puffing out his chest in front of the mirror. “Girls love cool hair.”

Back in the kitchen, you moved to plate breakfast with practiced grace, sliding fluffy pancakes onto warm dishes, eggs just the way Sebastian liked — slightly runny but not “gooey” as he insisted — and a few cut strawberries on the side for Lyla. You were used to this: multitasking like a magician with a wand in one hand and a spatula in the other.

Soon enough, the family made their way to the table — Lando drying his hands on a dish towel, Sebastian practically skipping with excitement, and Lyla toddling in behind them, curls still damp and cheeks pink from her bath. You had her sit in her booster seat at the end of the table and gently wrapped a towel around her tiny shoulders to catch any drips.

As she munched happily on her pancakes, you stood behind her, carefully sectioning her hair with nimble fingers, your voice low and soothing.

“Let’s try something cute today, hmm?” you murmured, twisting soft little curls into a half-up bun, securing it with a gentle clip that matched her tiny shirt — a pale blue one with little clouds on it.

“She looks like a doll,” Lando said with a grin, watching as Lyla turned to flash him a syrupy smile, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk.

“Dada,” she giggled, smearing her fingers on her tray.

“Okay, helmet?” Lando said, turning back to Sebastian and tapping into race dad mode. “Gloves? Shoes? Suit? Water?”

Sebastian nodded along confidently, his mouth full of toast. “Helmet, check. Gloves, check. Suit, double check. And I already put my water in the bag. See?” He held up a small bottle with cartoon lightning bolts on it, grinning as Lando gave him a mock salute.

“You’re on it, little champ,” Lando said, reaching out to tousle his hair again — carefully, of course, so as not to undo the masterpiece they had just created.

You finished pinning Lyla’s bun, stepping back to admire your handiwork before letting out a soft sigh. “You two go over that list every morning like you’re heading into space instead of a kart track,” you teased, raising an eyebrow as you leaned on the back of Lyla’s chair.

Lando leaned back in his seat, throwing his arm casually around Sebastian’s shoulders. “Well, we could be astronauts. You never know what kind of traffic we’ll hit on the way.”

Sebastian laughed. “Space traffic!”

You shook your head, chuckling. “Mmm, sounds like someone’s been watching too much sci-fi with their dad.”

“Never too much,” Lando said with a wink. “Besides, if he’s going to be the youngest world champion in karting history, he’s got to be prepared for everything. Meteor showers. Tire punctures. Mid-race alien invasions.”

“You two are hopeless,” you said, brushing a crumb off Lyla’s bib before leaning down to kiss her cheek. She turned to smoosh her pancake against your chin in response.

“See?” Lando said, watching the sticky chaos unfold. “This is why you’re in charge of breakfast, and I’m in charge of bath-time concerts and emotional support.”

“You do bring the chaos and the comedy,” you said, laughing as you wiped your chin with a napkin.

Lando stood and stretched, his shirt rising just slightly over his stomach as he groaned like an old man. “Alright, team. Finish up, grab your things, and let’s get this show on the road!”

Sebastian hopped up with an enthusiastic, “Yes, sir!” and darted off to find his shoes.

Lando leaned in as you helped Lyla down from her seat, planting a kiss at your temple. “We make a good team, huh?”

You smiled, glancing down at your daughter’s syrup-stained curls. “The best.”

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Sebastian sat in the backseat with his head leaned gently against the window, his dark curls freshly brushed and bouncing slightly every time the car hit a bump in the road. He watched the trees blur by, his little face glowing with joy, occasionally pointing out passing birds or funny-shaped clouds. The soft hum of his humming, offbeat and sweet, filled the car like background music to a peaceful morning.

Beside him, Lyla sat in her car seat clutching her plush bunny in one hand, the other rubbing her tired eyes. Her lashes were still damp from her bath, and her tiny mouth hung open in a sleepy pout. You glanced back at her with a soft smile before turning your head toward Lando, your arm resting lazily on the center console as the morning sun spilled into the car.

"You know," you began, your voice quiet and careful, "about that upcoming race… are we gonna talk about it?"

Lando didn’t glance at you — his focus stayed on the road, jaw slightly tightening. His hands adjusted subtly on the wheel, knuckles tensing for just a second. "Not in front of the kids," he muttered, almost under his breath. "Would be nice to just… have a peaceful drive."

You hummed in understanding, nodding slowly. He wasn’t wrong. You’d learned by now that Sebastian didn’t handle his absence well — not even short trips. The kid was emotionally aware, always had been. And as much as Lando tried to explain race weekends and schedules, it always came back to one thing: Why can’t you just stay home with us?

You looked over your shoulder again at Lyla, who was still fighting sleep. Her thumb rested near her lips, and you could see the way her small frame stiffened every time the car rolled past more people on the sidewalks. You sighed.

“She’s already tired, poor thing,” you murmured.

"Yeah, she was that way after her breakfast." He pointed.

You nodded again. “She’s still not comfortable in crowds.”

The car grew quiet. You both hated that part — not because you minded adjusting for her, but because it hurt to see her so afraid of the world. Your arms were her hiding place, your scent the only thing that calmed her when strangers’ eyes overwhelmed her. There were times she'd sob, clinging to you like her life depended on it, and only Lando’s calm voice and protective arms could slowly settle her.

“I still don’t understand it,” you said softly, shaking your head. “We never pushed her. Never forced her into loud spaces or too many people…”

“Sometimes it’s just how they’re wired,” Lando offered, his voice calm but laced with concern. “It doesn’t mean anything’s wrong with her. She’s sensitive. She feels things deeper than other kids. That’s not a flaw.”

You smiled faintly, reaching over to squeeze his hand on the gearshift. “Well, I want you to know… we’ll be expecting you to come home.”

He finally looked at you then, just for a second — his eyes warm and filled with love. “I love my family,” he said firmly. “I'd be a fool not to wanna be home with you guys.”

A peaceful silence fell over the car. You soaked in the moment — Sebastian's quiet joy, Lyla’s sleepy breathing, the comfort of Lando’s presence beside you. The kind of moment you wish you could bottle up forever.

Then your phone buzzed sharply in your bag, breaking the stillness. You glanced at it, saw the name light up on the screen, and tucked it back into your purse without a word.

Lando noticed. His eyes darted to you, then back to the road. “Who was that?” he asked, his tone casual — but just barely.

You exhaled. “You know who’s dad…”

His grip on the wheel tightened slightly. He didn’t say anything at first, just stared out ahead, jaw flexing. His shoulders tensed, the kind of reaction that told you he was fighting the urge to say something harsh — not in front of the kids.

“He has no reason to call,” Lando said at last, his voice low, controlled.

You nodded, your lips pressing together. “His excuse is he wants to build a bond with Sebastian.”

Lando scoffed, his laugh bitter and humorless. “Bullshit,” he spat. “Build something with him? Firstly, that’s my son.”

You stayed silent, listening — because you knew what was coming, and he had every right to say it.

“I don’t recall him claiming Sebastian when I came into his life at three years old,” Lando continued, eyes hard on the road. “Where was he then? Hm? When Sebastian was asking why his dad didn’t come to the school play? When he needed someone to tie his shoes or wipe his tears or sit through every damn dentist appointment?”

You reached across the console and laid a hand on his arm. His voice cracked slightly.

“He needs to find someone else to play parent with,” he said, a tremor of protectiveness in his throat. “Because it won’t be my son.”

You let the words linger for a moment, feeling the weight of them settle in the car like dust.

“I know,” you said quietly. “I didn’t answer. I won’t. Not until I know Sebastian is safe. Emotionally, mentally… he doesn’t get to mess with his heart just because he’s feeling guilty or left out now.”

Lando glanced at you again, softer now. “You always protect them.”

“So do you,” you whispered, smiling faintly.

From the backseat, Sebastian’s voice chimed in, unaware of the heaviness in the front.

“Are we almost there?” he asked, kicking his feet happily.

“Almost, champ,” Lando called back, voice instantly warmer. “You ready to win today?”

“Always!” Sebastian grinned.

Lyla blinked her eyes open, her gaze locking on you. You reached back and brushed a curl from her cheek, watching as her face relaxed at your touch.

“Oh! I like this song!” Sebastian piped up from the backseat, his little voice bubbling with excitement.

Lando glanced at the rearview mirror and smirked, reaching forward to turn the volume knob up just a little. “Classic,” he said with a grin, recognizing the tune.

Sebastian immediately started singing along — a little off-key, but enthusiastic nonetheless, his shoulders bouncing with every beat. Lando, unable to resist, joined in, throwing in a dramatic harmony that made Sebastian laugh.

You turned your head to watch the two of them for a moment — your son with flushed cheeks and bright eyes, and the man who’d become his entire world, belting out lyrics like they were the headliners of a sold-out concert.

“You two are something else,” you murmured with a fond smile, shaking your head.

The front of the car erupted in playful chaos, with Lando drumming his hands on the wheel and Sebastian pretending to play air guitar. You pulled out your phone, instinctively hitting record. You captured it — the laughter, the music, the sunlight dancing across their faces — and posted it to your Instagram story with a simple caption: my boys 💛

There was something so peaceful about that moment. You didn’t need anything more. It was messy and loud and filled with love.

When you finally arrived, the hum of excitement still buzzed between all of you. Sebastian jumped out first, eyes wide and full of anticipation. Lando stepped out after him, grabbing the gear bag with one hand and Sebastian’s smaller one with the other. You moved to the back to get Lyla, who was still curled up in her car seat, her bunny clutched tightly to her chest.

You gently lifted her out, her body molding instantly to yours, her head tucking into your neck as her tiny hand gripped your hoodie.

“She’ll be okay,” you whispered softly, kissing her temple.

Lando came around to your side, brushing a hand down Lyla’s back as he looked at you. “It’s just a crowd,” he echoed quietly, as if saying it would make it true. “She’s gonna be okay...we’re here.”

You both nodded, but it was more for yourselves than anyone else.

Lyla whimpered a little as voices swelled in the distance, and you adjusted her in your arms, shushing her gently. You found a seat away from the crowd, tucked near the fence, giving her the space she needed to feel safe while still watching everything unfold.

Meanwhile, Lando led Sebastian toward check-in, walking side by side as if this were their own little pre-race ritual. He helped him unzip the duffle, pulling out the race suit and setting it down over the bench.

“Alright,” Lando said, kneeling down beside him as he began helping Sebastian into his suit. “You got this. I know you do. But remember, don’t push too hard. If someone’s being reckless, let them pass. We’re not here to crash. We’re here to finish.”

Sebastian nodded, his expression serious. “You always say that,” he muttered, pulling one arm through his sleeve.

Lando smirked. “Because it’s true. Some of these kids? They don’t play fair. But you do. You’ve got a good heart, and good instincts. That’ll take you farther than a shortcut ever will.”

Sebastian was quiet as he finished adjusting the suit around his waist, fiddling with the zipper. Lando’s brow furrowed slightly. He knew that silence — it wasn’t focus. It was doubt.

“Hey,” Lando said, crouching down again and lowering his voice. “What’s going on in that head of yours, kiddo?”

Sebastian looked up at him, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “It’s just…” he hesitated. “The other kids… they say I’m only good because of you. That I don’t actually work hard. Some of the parents too. I didn’t mean to listen in but… they talk loud enough.”

Lando’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. He didn’t speak for a moment, processing it.

“They say it’s just handed to me,” Sebastian continued, looking down. “And when I win or do something good, no one really cheers for me… not like they do for the others.”

Lando blew out a slow breath through his nose, trying not to let his anger show too much. He knelt fully now, hands resting on Sebastian’s shoulders.

“Listen to me,” he said, voice firm but gentle. “You are good because you work for it. I don’t care what any of them say. I help you — I coach you, yeah — but I’m not the one on that track. You are. You’re the one who gets in the kart. You’re the one who focuses. You’re the one who takes what we practice and makes it happen.”

Sebastian’s eyes welled slightly, and he looked away, embarrassed. “But what if they’re right? What if I’m only good because you’re… you?”

Lando shook his head immediately. “No. Absolutely not. You think being my son guarantees anything? You’ve got no idea how hard you’ve worked to be here, how much discipline it takes for someone your age to handle this pressure.”

He smiled gently now, brushing a piece of hair out of Sebastian’s face.

“You’re doing amazing, Seb. And honestly? They’re just mad that you’ve got someone in your corner who believes in you. That’s what they’re really jealous of.”

Sebastian sniffled once, nodding slowly.

“And you know what?” Lando added with a mischievous grin. “When I have you as the face of McLaren in a few years, those same people? They’ll be the ones begging for your autograph.”

That got a smile.

“For real?” Sebastian whispered.

“For real,” Lando said. “Now, c’mon. Let’s show them exactly why you’re the one to watch.”

He offered his fist, and Sebastian bumped it with his own, a new fire in his eyes.

From the stands, you watched the whole thing unfold — Lando kneeling beside Sebastian, talking to him like he was the most important person in the world. And to both of you, he was.

You looked down at Lyla in your arms, her breathing even and her little fingers still clutching her bunny, and kissed her forehead.

You stood near the edge of the karting track, sunlight glinting off the safety barriers, the breeze carrying the smell of fresh rubber and excitement. Lyla sat comfortably on your hip, playing absently with your necklace, her curls a soft halo in the golden light. From your vantage point, you could see everything — the track, the other kids prepping, and most importantly: Sebastian.

His kart zoomed around the bend, hugging the corner with precision beyond his years, and Lando stood tall beside you, his arms folded, pride practically radiating from him.

“God, he looks good out there,” you said with a soft smile, not taking your eyes off Sebastian’s small figure in the kart. “He’s grown so much. His lines are cleaner than they’ve ever been.”

Lando nodded, his mouth twitching into a proud grin. “He’s smoother, more confident... and he’s reading the track. That’s not something you can force into a kid. He wants this.”

You glanced at him, your gaze lingering. “That’s because of you. You’ve been in his corner since the day you met him. He listens to you.”

He exhaled a breath, voice dropping a little. “It’s all him. I just gave him the tools. He did the rest.”

“No,” you said, wrapping your arm through his. “You gave him a dad. That’s what he needed most.”

Lando didn’t answer right away. He simply looked at you with something tender in his eyes — something unspoken but understood. Then, Sebastian flew by again, his kart perfectly balanced as he handled a tricky chicane without flinching.

“He’s killing it,” Lando muttered with pride.

“He’s so little, yet so fearless,” you said with a light laugh, adjusting Lyla who had begun to rest her head on your shoulder. “And he’s got your determination.”

Lando chuckled. “He’s got your heart.”

Sebastian finished another lap, slowing as he coasted into the pit area. His helmet tilted your way, and even behind the visor, you knew he was beaming.

Lando turned to you, taking Lyla gently from your arms and cradling her against his chest. “I’m going to go talk to him — he’ll want to review that last corner. I think he was pushing for a tighter exit.”

You watched him approach Sebastian with warmth in your chest, your boys side by side, your daughter tucked securely in Lando’s arms.

Sebastian pulled off his helmet, his face flushed and glowing with pride. “Did you see me?!” he asked excitedly as Lando crouched down beside him.

“I did,” Lando grinned, ruffling his hair. “You nailed the back corner. That’s the cleanest I’ve seen you take it. I’m seriously impressed.”

“Can we watch the footage later?” Sebastian asked. “I wanna see how I can make my line even better.”

“Of course,” Lando replied. “We’ll break it down, see where you can gain time. But today? You did everything right.”

From where you stood, you could hear their conversation, and it made your heart swell. Sebastian wasn’t just driving — he was growing, thriving, becoming someone with confidence and focus, and so much of that came from Lando’s gentle, steady guidance.

You walked over and knelt beside them. “We saw you out there, baby,” you said, brushing a hand through his curls. “You were incredible. Smooth, fast… and smart.”

Sebastian looked up at you, shy but proud. “Thanks, Mom. It felt really good today. I didn’t even get scared when I had to pass that older kid.”

“That’s because you’re brave,” you said, kissing the top of his head. “And you’ve got the best coach in the world.”

He turned to Lando, grinning. “Can we get ice cream? You said good laps mean good treats.”

Lando chuckled. “I believe I did say that. Alright, one scoop for a good lap... two scoops for a great one.”

“Then I get three,” Sebastian declared with a cheeky smile.

You all laughed as you took Lando’s free hand in yours, his thumb brushing softly against your knuckles. Lyla yawned in his arms, her tiny body curled into his chest like it was her safest place.

Looking at the three of them — Lando kneeling beside Sebastian, Lyla dozing in his arms, the proud look on his face as he juggled being a coach, a father, and your partner — you couldn’t help but feel full. Of love, of peace, of something that felt like forever.

After a successful day at the track, Sebastian chattered endlessly from the backseat, recounting every twist, turn, and overtake he had made during practice. His hands moved animatedly, mimicking his steering, his words tumbling out faster than his kart had gone. You and Lando exchanged soft glances as you sat in the front — it was one of those small, sweet moments that made parenthood feel so full.

“And then I passed him right before the curve, and I didn’t even have to brake that much! I just— vroom— took the inside and boom! Gone!” Sebastian beamed, eyes wide with excitement.

“Don’t have a sugar rush or a sugar crash, mate,” Lando chuckled, giving him a teasing glance in the rearview mirror.

“I won’t,” Sebastian promised quickly, though the giant scoop of chocolate ice cream in his hand said otherwise.

It only took a few more minutes and half a cone before the inevitable happened — Sebastian’s head lolled to the side, ice cream wiped away, his mouth slightly open as he slept soundly. Lyla, tucked in her car seat beside him with her thumb near her mouth and her little bunny plush clutched to her chest, was already out like a light, her soft breaths the only sound beside the hum of the car.

With both kids asleep and the city lights beginning to dim under the setting sun, you turned your gaze toward Lando. His hands rested calmly on the wheel, his eyes fixed ahead, the soft orange-pink hues from the sky reflecting gently off his face.

It was the perfect time to talk.

“So…” you began softly, careful not to disturb the peaceful air. “When do you head out for your race?”

Lando didn’t answer right away. His jaw flexed, barely noticeable, and then he let out a low sigh. “Next weekend,” he muttered.

You frowned slightly, chewing the inside of your cheek. “You’ll be back before Sebastian’s next race, right?” you asked, a little tentative, but hopeful.

He sighed again, deeper this time. “I hope so,” he said truthfully. “I really do. It just depends how the travel and schedule plays out. But I promise you, I’m trying.”

You could hear the frustration behind his voice, not directed at you — never at you — but toward the situation he was tangled in. Racing, family, responsibility... the weight of being in two places at once. You reached over and rested your hand on his thigh gently.

“I know,” you said softly. “We’re not mad, baby.”

Lando’s fingers gripped the wheel a little tighter. “I just…” he paused, searching for the words. “I’m upset. Upset that I’ve got this race and I know I can’t take you guys with me — not because I don’t want you there. But Lyla… she doesn’t like crowds. She gets overwhelmed and anxious, and I’d never forgive myself if she had a meltdown because I forced her into that kind of environment.”

You nodded, heart aching at how much he carried inside. “We know, Lando. You’re always doing what’s best for us. Lyla’s well-being comes first, and Sebastian understands. He might miss you when you're gone, but he knows how much you love him.”

“I just hate not being there,” he said, voice a little quieter now. “Putting Lyla down at night, handling Sebastian’s school, meals, practice — it all falls on you when I’m away, and I know that has to get exhausting.”

You turned your body slightly toward him, brushing your thumb over his hand where it rested between gears. “It gets hard, yeah. But I’d do it again and again because this is our life. I love our life, even the messy parts.”

Lando looked over at you briefly, the corners of his mouth lifting just a little.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he murmured. “A real break. Just us. Somewhere warm, quiet, no press, no race schedule. I’ll book it after the next GP. Sebastian and Lyla can stay with my parents — they’ll be spoiled rotten and so happy to see their cousins.”

You laughed under your breath, brushing your hair out of your face as the breeze from the slightly open window caught it. “You’re too sweet for your own good sometimes, Norris.”

“I try,” he smiled, glancing over at you again. “But I mean it. You need rest too, babe. Not just sleep. Real rest. Sun. A slow morning. A long bath. No tiny humans yelling about cereal or needing their race suit zipped up.”

You laughed again, quieter this time, as you looked over your shoulder at the sleeping kids. Sebastian’s mouth was still open, Lyla clutching her bunny with a peaceful expression on her face.

“You’re an amazing dad, Lando,” you said, your voice warm, full of sincerity. “Even when you’re gone, we still feel your love around us. That’s something special.”

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Later that evening, the sky outside the windows had turned a rich, velvety navy. Inside the house, the atmosphere was warm but quietly heavy — a kind of stillness you felt more than heard. The television murmured in the background, but it barely registered over the small voices drifting from down the hall.

Lando was in the bedroom, packing slowly. His suitcase lay open on the bed, half-filled with race gear, socks, and shirts all folded with methodical care — but he wasn’t focused. Not really. Every few minutes, he paused, sighing softly to himself, glancing toward the hallway like he could feel time running too quickly.

“I can fit here,” Sebastian declared from beside the bed, pointing at the remaining space in the suitcase with a hopeful look on his face. “Right here, next to your shoes. I’ll be still.”

Lando managed a weak chuckle. “You can’t, bud. I’m sorry.”

“But if I curl up really small—”

“Seb…” Lando’s voice cracked just slightly, guilt tugging at his chest. “I wish I could take you, I do. But I can’t this time.”

Before the moment could settle, Lyla toddled over, latching herself around Lando’s leg and hugging tightly. “Dada,” she said in a tiny whimper. She didn’t quite understand what was happening — just that her father had a suitcase out again. And that was never a good sign.

You heard them from the living room and stood, walking toward the bedroom doorway quietly. The second you appeared, Lando looked up at you, and his eyes said everything: I can’t do this… please help.

“Alright, kiddos,” you said gently, crouching down to their level. “Daddy needs to pack. He’s not going for long, but he needs to be ready.”

“I wanna go with him!” Sebastian said again, louder this time, tears pricking at his eyes.

“I know you do,” you murmured, brushing some of his curls from his face. “But you’ve got school, remember? And karting, and Lyla—she doesn’t do well in big crowds, sweetie. So we’ll stay here, and when Daddy’s done with his race, he’ll come right back to us. Just like always.”

Sebastian stood still for a moment, eyes on the floor. His fists were clenched tight at his sides. “But… what if this time he doesn’t?”

The words landed like ice water to the chest. You exchanged a quiet glance with Lando before quickly crouching closer.

“What do you mean by that, baby?” you asked softly.

Sebastian shrugged, jaw trembling.

“Seb… talk to us. What’s going on in that big heart of yours?” you coaxed.

But his silence thickened, lips pressed into a tight line. He shook his head hard and took a step back, eyes starting to brim with tears.

“Sebastian…” Lando started gently, “Hey, look at me, buddy.”

But the boy turned suddenly, wiping at his cheeks and darting toward the door. “I don’t wanna talk about it!” he shouted, voice cracking as he ran down the hallway. His bedroom door slammed a moment later, muffled sobs barely audible behind it.

Lando stood frozen, his hand halfway out like he could reach for him. “Shit,” he breathed, swallowing hard. “I didn’t mean for him to feel like this.”

You moved slowly toward him, Lyla still tucked into your arms as her big eyes watched you both. “He’s scared,” you whispered. “And he doesn’t know how to say it yet.”

“I would never leave him!” Lando said again, his voice strained, eyes shining as he tried to hold himself together. “Not on purpose. Not ever.”

You stepped closer, gently reaching for his hand. “Baby, we know that,” you murmured, voice soft. “He knows that too… deep down. But he’s just… going through a lot right now. He’s young, and this is all a lot to take in. He’s scared, but Lando…” you looked at him with all the tenderness in your heart, “he loves you so much.”

Lando let out a breathy laugh, but it didn’t hold much humor. “So much he thinks I’m trying to leave him on purpose,” he said bitterly, shaking his head.

You felt your chest ache, your heart twisting at the pain that passed across his face. It wasn’t fair — not to Lando, and not to Sebastian. You both tried so hard to give the kids a life full of love and security, and yet somehow, fear still crept in through the cracks.

“I don’t even know where this came from,” you admitted, your voice catching. “What made him say that? Is someone saying things to him? Did he overhear something? It’s bothering me, Lando. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Lando was quiet for a moment, jaw clenched. He hated the unknown of it too — hated that Sebastian was hurting in ways they couldn’t immediately fix.

“Go talk to him,” you finally said, gently nudging his hand. “Before bed. He needs to hear from you. He needs that reassurance. And tomorrow… please, while you’re away, think about how this even happened. Figure out what he’s feeling and why. Because this—” you shook your head, “—this isn’t something we can let fester.”

Lando nodded slowly, pulling you into a tight hug before stepping back with a heavy sigh. “You’re right,” he said. “He shouldn’t have to carry this. Not at his age.”

His feet carried him quietly down the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest. When he reached Sebastian’s room, the soft hum of the nightlight cast little race cars in orange light against the walls. Sebastian was curled up in his race car bed, turned toward the wall, clutching his pillow tightly. His shoulders were trembling, the occasional hiccup giving away his tears.

“Sebastian…” Lando said gently from the doorway.

No answer.

He stepped inside, kneeling beside the bed slowly. “Listen to me, buddy,” Lando said, voice low but steady. “You are my son. Okay? Nothing about that is temporary. Nothing about that is going to change.”

Sebastian sniffled but didn’t respond, his small body tense under the covers.

“I don’t know why you’re feeling like this, or what made you think that I’d leave you. But I need you to hear me — I would never, ever leave you on purpose. This racing stuff… it’s part of what I do. But it’s not more important than you. Or your sister. Or your mom. You three are everything to me.”

Sebastian gave the faintest shake of his head, still not turning around.

“I came into your life when you were just three,” Lando continued, his voice softening even more. “You probably don’t remember all of it, but I do. I remember meeting you. I remember how loud and happy you were, how curious. I remember how your little hand fit in mine the first time we crossed the street together. And I remember thinking, I’m going to protect this kid. Always.”

There was a pause, then a sniff from Sebastian.

“You know… before I met you and your mom, my life was a lot faster than it is now,” Lando confessed. “I was partying, flying everywhere, being wild and selfish and not really thinking about anything long term. But then I met you two… and everything changed. You made me want to be different.”

Finally, Sebastian stirred. His little hand poked out from under the blanket, wiping at his eyes. Lando reached out and rested his hand gently on the bed.

“When I asked your mom to marry me, I didn’t just ask to be her husband. I asked to be your dad, too. Because by then… you weren’t just some kid I was helping raise. You were mine. You are mine. I love you, Sebastian, more than I can explain. You’re my first son. You’re my world.”

Sebastian finally turned over, his face blotchy and red-eyed. “Then why do you keep leaving?” he whispered, voice trembling. “Why do you have to go?”

Lando swallowed hard and reached for him, brushing his hair from his face. “Because that’s part of what I do right now. But it’s not forever. And I promise, I hate being away from you just as much as you hate it. I miss your voice, your jokes, your excitement over karting. I miss bedtime and hugging you goodnight. I don’t leave because I want to. I go because it’s my job — but I always come home. Always.”

Sebastian’s lower lip quivered. “You’re not like my other dad?”

“Not even close,” Lando said, shaking his head firmly. “Your other dad left when things got hard. I stay. I’ll always stay. I don’t care how far away I have to go, you’re my son, and I’m coming back to you. Every single time.”

Sebastian finally launched himself forward, wrapping his arms tight around Lando’s neck. “Okay,” he whispered against his shoulder. “I believe you.”

Lando held him just as tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, eyes stinging.

“I love you, little man,” he murmured. “More than words. And I’m always coming home to you.”

Outside the door, you wiped a tear from your cheek, quietly backing away to give them the moment they both needed. Inside that room, a little boy’s fears began to melt, just a little — warmed by the voice of the man who never once thought of him as anything less than his own.

The house was wrapped in stillness, the soft hum of the night filling the quiet as the children slept peacefully in their rooms. You lay tucked under the covers, curled close against Lando’s chest, his arm draped around you protectively. His warmth, his heartbeat, the calm of being next to him after such an emotionally draining day — it was everything you needed.

Your fingers gently traced circles on his chest, your voice soft as you murmured, “We’ll be expecting that win, you know.”

Lando let out a low chuckle, his lips brushing the top of your head. “I’ll win,” he promised, his tone full of tired certainty. “You have my word.”

You smiled faintly, but your heart was still heavy. “So…” you began, hesitating for a second, “Did he give in? Did he tell you where he heard it?”

Lando’s breath hitched, his chest rising and falling slowly as he pulled you a little closer. “No,” he said quietly. “He never told me where he learned it from.” He exhaled sharply through his nose, his frustration evident even in the dim light. “But I’ll figure it out. Someone’s spreading bullshit about him not being my son. I don’t care if it’s some nosy gossip mom at the karting track or someone we actually know... Someone’s putting that idea in his head, and I won’t let it slide.”

You looked up at him, catching the slight furrow of his brow in the soft light from the hallway. He was trying to stay calm — for you, for the kids — but you knew him well enough to recognize the storm brewing behind his eyes.

You sighed, your hand slipping up to cup his jaw gently. “He’s still a kid, Lan. A sensitive one. All it takes is one sentence, one nasty comment… and it sticks. We just have to keep showing him what’s true. Every single day.”

Lando turned his face into your touch, pressing a kiss to your palm. “I know,” he murmured. “It just kills me that anyone could make him feel like that. Like he’s not wanted, or not mine. I’ve been there since he was three. I’ve changed nappies, made lunch boxes, sat by his bed when he was sick. That kid is mine.”

Your eyes softened. “I know, love. He knows it too. Deep down, he does. He just needed to hear it out loud tonight.”

Lando looked at the ceiling, running a hand through his hair. “I should’ve said it more. I should say it every day.”

“You say it in how you show up,” you whispered, laying your head back on his chest. “In how you coach him, how you pick him up from school, how you wrestle with him in the living room like an overgrown kid. That’s what he remembers, Lando. That’s what counts.”

He wrapped both arms around you now, tighter than before, and let the silence linger for a moment — the kind of silence that spoke love more deeply than words ever could.

“Let’s just get some sleep,” you said softly, a yawn escaping as you nestled further into his embrace.

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The airport buzzed with travelers and rolling suitcases, but in the middle of it all, Lando stood still, a backpack slung over one shoulder and his race bag at his feet, watching his little family like he didn’t want to blink and miss a second of them. The sunlight streamed in through the massive windows, casting a warm golden glow on the polished floors and the group of you gathered just by the lounge entrance.

You shifted Lyla gently in your arms, her small arms wrapped around your neck and her cheek pressed against your shoulder, peeking every so often only to immediately hide again. Her curls tickled your chin as you smiled, rocking slightly on your feet to soothe her. “I swear, if this airport had a softer carpet, she’d be napping right now,” you muttered, causing Lando to snort.

Sebastian stood at Lando’s side, bouncing on the balls of his feet, full of energy and curiosity. “So you travel with Oscar?” he asked, eyes wide with fascination like the idea of teammates sharing an airport adventure was just the coolest thing ever.

“Yeah, buddy,” Lando nodded with a grin, ruffling Sebastian’s hair. “He’s my teammate. We fly together, practice together, complain about food together…”

“Do you sit together on the plane?” Sebastian cut in.

Lando blinked. “Only if he gets there on time. Otherwise, I claim the window seat and he sulks in the middle.”

You laughed under your breath, the sound bright and warm. “Classic Oscar,” you said with a smirk. “Lyla, you’ll end up liking Oscar. He’s quiet — not many words, very mellow — so he won’t scare you. You could honestly make him your emotional support adult.”

Lyla, predictably, burrowed her face deeper into your neck like you’d just told her Oscar was a walking jump scare. “Okay, okay,” you whispered into her curls, pressing a kiss to her head. “Take your time.”

As if the universe were on cue, Oscar Piastri strolled into view — calm, composed, holding his suitcase like it weighed nothing, dressed in comfy layers and holding a coffee like he absolutely woke up ten minutes before arriving.

“Look who finally made it!” Lando quipped, throwing his arms out. “Only mildly fashionably late.”

Oscar raised a brow, completely unbothered. “Lando, I was on time. You were just here twenty minutes early because you’re emotionally unstable without your family.”

You stifled a laugh behind your hand. “He’s not wrong.”

“I am not emotionally unstable,” Lando protested. “I’m emotionally… organized.”

“Sure,” Oscar deadpanned. “Very organized meltdown last time your daughter FaceTimed you and then hung up mid-sentence.”

Lyla peeked up again, this time catching a glimpse of Oscar, only to retreat immediately. Oscar noticed, offering a small, kind smile and a little wave, like he’d read a guidebook on communicating with toddlers. “Hi, Lyla,” he said gently. “I won’t talk too much. Promise.”

“Uncle Oscar is learning,” you said proudly.

Sebastian, meanwhile, practically threw himself at Oscar, grabbing his hand. “I saw you win that one time and my dad was like, ‘Yeah, yeah, okay, good job’ but I was like ‘LET’S GOOO’ and then I made a drawing of you and I forgot to bring it.”

Oscar blinked. “That’s...very sweet. Also, you should be in PR.”

“Trying to be just like Dad,” Sebastian said proudly, making Lando grin ear to ear.

Lando then reached out, hands open like a kid about to ask for a puppy. “Can I just take Lyla?” he pleaded.

You gave him the most exaggerated look of faux-shock. “Oh sure, let me just hand over our clingy, sleep-fighting, tiny-anxiety-ball daughter to a man who doesn’t even remember to pack his own socks half the time.”

“I remember my socks... now,” he muttered.

You stepped closer, brushing his hair gently back from his forehead. “I know you miss her when you travel. I know you’d take us all in your suitcase if you could.”

Lando's eyes softened, that teasing glint replaced by something real and vulnerable. “I just hate the part where I leave,” he murmured. “Everything else is manageable, but walking away from you three? That’s the worst part of my job.”

You leaned up to kiss him softly, Lyla squirming slightly in your arms as if sensing the emotion. “Go win. Come home. That’s all we ask of you.”

He smiled, wrapping one arm around your waist, kissing Lyla’s cheek, and ruffling Sebastian’s hair one last time. “I’ll bring back souvenirs.”

“Better be food,” Sebastian said.

“Better be diamonds,” you added with a grin.

Oscar sighed beside you both, already done. “Can we please go before you all start crying and I have to stand here pretending not to care?”

Lando threw an arm around his teammate’s shoulder. “Admit it, you love us.”

Oscar shrugged. “You’re...tolerable.”

“Progress!” you cheered.

As Lando began to walk away, he turned back one last time, catching your eyes — a silent promise exchanged between the two of you in that fleeting glance. He mouthed I love you, and you whispered it right back.

And just like that, he was gone for now — but never really gone. Not in the ways that mattered.

Once the plane had taxied down the runway and lifted into the clouds, the familiar hum of the engines filled the cabin, creating that oddly peaceful quiet that only seemed to exist once wheels left the ground. Lando sat back in his seat, letting out a slow breath as he adjusted his cap and glanced out the window for a second — but all he could picture was Lyla’s sleepy little face nuzzled into your neck, and Sebastian’s teary eyes looking up at him just hours ago at home.

He turned toward Oscar, who was already halfway reclined and lazily sipping a ginger ale like they weren’t thirty thousand feet in the sky. “I miss them already,” Lando muttered, not really trying to hide it.

Oscar glanced sideways at him, his expression softening. “Sebastian’s growing up fast,” he said, voice low and thoughtful. “Last time I saw him properly, he was just this tiny three-year-old clinging to your leg, trying to ‘help’ you clean your helmet with baby wipes.”

Lando chuckled, rubbing at his jaw. “Yeah… he’s seven now. Whole personality built in. Witty, quick on his feet, obsessed with racing. It’s like looking in a mirror — except better.” His eyes lingered out the window, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips before it slowly faded. “Y/n’s sad he’s getting older. I am too. He’s not my little guy forever. And then there’s Lyla… she just turned two, and she’s already more emotionally aware than half the grid.”

Oscar huffed a soft laugh, but he could tell from the tension in Lando’s voice that something was weighing heavier than normal.

“What’s eating at you?” Oscar asked gently, setting his drink aside.

Lando hesitated, then rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh. “Sebastian’s been… weird lately. About me leaving. He gets upset. He thinks… he thinks I won’t come back. That I’ll leave him like his biological dad did.”

Oscar’s brows pulled together in concern. “Shit,” he muttered. “That’s heavy for a seven-year-old.”

“Tell me about it.” Lando’s voice cracked slightly. “He won’t talk about it much either. Y/n says he’s scared. And I get it, I do. He’s trying to protect himself. But when he said it last night, when he asked if I was leaving like his other dad…” He trailed off, blinking rapidly. “It felt like someone punched a hole through my chest.”

Oscar didn’t interrupt. He just listened, giving Lando the space to vent.

“I’ve given him reassurance, every time,” Lando continued. “I tuck him in, I talk to him about my schedule, I FaceTime them from the paddock, I bring him souvenirs — hell, I’d tattoo his name on my forehead if I thought it’d help. And Y/n… she says I’m doing great. But it doesn’t make it hurt less. I’m not mad at him. I’m just… frustrated. Heartbroken.”

Oscar nodded slowly, choosing his words carefully. “You love that kid like he’s yours. And he is, Lando. You’ve raised him. Anyone with eyes can see that. But he’s old enough now to start feeling uncertainty. He probably overheard something. Or maybe it’s just all these changes, the travel, Lyla being little and needing more attention, growing up in general… it’s a lot for a kid.”

Lando leaned back in his seat, staring at the ceiling. “I hate that I have to filter everything I say or do. Not around him — around everyone else. I hold back online. I avoid talking about him sometimes in interviews. Because the moment people know the full story, they’ll twist it. Gossip about his real dad. Make up stories about me and Y/n. And he’ll hear it. And I can't shield him from all of it forever.”

Oscar gave a solemn hum. “People can hate on you, yeah. But your family’s different. It’s the soft spot. I get that.”

“I don’t care what they say about me,” Lando said, voice tight. “Call me overhyped, say I’ll never be a world champion, criticize everything — fine. But the second they talk about Y/n? About Sebastian? Lyla? That’s my red line.”

There was a silence that stretched for a moment, filled only by the low buzz of the plane.

Oscar broke it with a quiet, honest comment. “You’re a better dad than most, Lando. Hell, you’re a better man than most. Seb will figure that out — if he hasn’t already. Kids are smart, and he’s yours. In the ways that count.”

Lando let out a breath, one hand dragging down his face. “Yeah… thanks, mate.”

Oscar gave him a side glance. “Just don’t cry on me. I can’t handle that mid-flight.”

Lando scoffed and wiped his eye. “I’m not crying. You’re crying.”

“I’m crying from having to hear about feelings on an airplane,” Oscar muttered dryly.

That got a laugh out of Lando, finally. One that shook the tension loose in his shoulders.

He pulled out his phone, unlocking it and glancing down at the screen where he’d set a lock screen of the four of you at the beach — Sebastian covered in sand, Lyla curled up in your lap, you smiling toward the camera as Lando held it out with wind-tousled hair and a cheeky grin.

He stared at the picture for a long moment before nodding to himself.

“I’ll win this weekend,” he said, more to himself than to Oscar. “For them.”

The familiar winding roads of Monaco stretched before you, the sea glittering off in the distance and the sunlight casting a warm glow across the dashboard. You let out a soft sigh, one hand on the wheel, the other resting gently in your lap as the comforting hum of the car filled the silence. The air was calm, the kind that settled in only after a long morning of goodbyes — the kind that reminded you someone was missing from the seat beside you.

From the backseat, the soft sounds of Sebastian quietly humming drifted forward. He was mumbling the theme song to one of his favorite cartoons, his fingers rhythmically drumming on the armrest beside him. Lyla, tucked snugly into her car seat, swung her little legs gently back and forth, her favorite stuffed bunny cradled in her arms, as her eyes flicked between the sun-drenched buildings outside and her big brother beside her.

You glanced into the rearview mirror, watching them with a soft smile before speaking up. “Alright, kiddos,” you said, voice warm and teasing. “Since Daddy’s off flying through the skies to go race fast cars, how about we go do something fun of our own while he’s gone?”

Sebastian perked up, peeking his head up a little more in his booster seat. “Like what?”

You shrugged playfully. “I don’t know… what if we went skating?”

There was a short pause before Sebastian gave a thoughtful frown. “Mmm… I don’t think Lyla can skate. She’s too tiny. She’d probably fall.”

Lyla, catching on to her name, simply squeaked out, “Fall!” and then giggled, not even understanding but joining in the fun anyway.

You chuckled, glancing at them again in the mirror. “Fair point. Alright, no skating. What about…” You tapped your chin theatrically. “What about Lego shopping?”

The reaction was instant.

Sebastian gasped, eyes lighting up like someone flipped a switch. “Really? We can go today?!”

You grinned. “Of course. We’ll swing by that toy store you love — you know, the one where you always find the big sets hidden in the back.”

“Yes!” he beamed, practically bouncing in his seat. “And Lyla can get a toy too!”

Lyla kicked her legs a little more excitedly now. “Toy!”

“Exactly,” you nodded. “We’ll get you both something, then head home, order pizza — the kind with the stuffed crust that you love — and we’ll set up a movie marathon. I’m thinking popcorn, pillows on the floor, and one of those movies you’ve seen a hundred times but still laugh at anyway.”

“Movie night!!” Sebastian turned toward his sister with wide eyes. “Lyla, we’re gonna have a movie night!”

Lyla clapped her hands, though it was more like soft patting, her stuffed bunny flopping with each motion. “Moobee!”

You laughed, the warmth of their joy radiating through the car and straight into your heart. Moments like these — these tiny, quiet, ordinary ones — made everything else worth it. The tears, the tough conversations, the goodbyes at the airport.

As you slowed at a red light, your eyes caught them again in the mirror — Sebastian now holding his sister’s hand across their seats. It wasn’t perfect, she was barely reaching with her tiny fingers, but he had his arm stretched out, patient and gentle, as she grasped a few of his fingers in hers and smiled.

You felt your chest tighten with that familiar ache of love.

“Hey,” you said softly, eyes on the mirror. “I love you two so much.”

Sebastian gave a goofy grin. “We love you too, Mama.”

Lyla chimed in softly, her voice a little more clumsy but full of meaning. “Lub you.”

And in that moment, as you turned down the street toward the toy store, your heart — though missing one person who was flying far away — felt completely full.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The toy store buzzed with the low chatter of parents and the excited squeals of children, shelves stacked high with colorful boxes and glittering plastic, the occasional jingle of a motion-activated toy going off somewhere in the aisles. You stood beside your children, Sebastian inspecting a complicated LEGO Technic set while Lyla pointed curiously at a plush unicorn that blinked and sang when touched. Her little fingers barely reached the shelf, but she tried anyway.

You smiled, watching them, when a familiar voice interrupted your quiet moment.

“Y/n?”

You turned, blinking in surprise before your face lit up. “The one and only… Alexandra Saint Mleux.”

She laughed gently and stepped forward for a hug, her ever-elegant frame wrapped in a long cream coat, a small designer purse slung over her shoulder. “It’s been ages,” she smiled, her soft French accent still intact despite living in Monaco for so long.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” you admitted as you stepped back. “I figured you’d be flying out to watch the race.”

Alexandra nodded and sighed. “That was the plan, but work got in the way. Some last-minute clients. I’m heartbroken to miss this one… but I’ll survive.” Her eyes wandered to the kids, warm and understanding. “So… how are they doing? You know, with Lando being away?”

Your smile faltered just a bit. “We’re managing,” you said, lowering your voice to a private hush. “Keeping them busy helps. I don’t know how bedtime will go — it never really gets easier, not when they’re used to him doing stories, doing his silly voices and games… but we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

Alexandra nodded solemnly. “You’re doing beautifully, Y/n. Truly.”

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed in your coat pocket. The name on the screen made your stomach knot.

Sebastian’s Father.

You exhaled sharply through your nose, masking the moment with a smile toward Alexandra. “Would you mind staying with them while they pick their toys? I’ll just be a moment.”

“Of course,” she said without hesitation. “Take your time.”

You stepped away from the aisle, finding a quieter corner near a display of puzzles. The buzzing continued in your hand. With a deep breath, you hit accept.

You didn’t wait for a greeting. “Can you stop calling?” you said sharply, keeping your voice low but laced with steel.

A familiar voice crackled on the other end. “Y/n, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for weeks. I want to speak to my son.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it physically hurt. “Your son?” you spat, turning your back toward the toy aisle and gripping the phone tighter. “Since when?”

He sighed, as if he was the one carrying the burden. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to sit back and see pictures of him with some other guy? Videos of him calling someone else dad?”

“Oh, cry me a river,” you snapped, your voice sharp now, tempered only by the awareness you were still in public. “That other guy is my husband. The man who has raised Sebastian with love, patience, and every ounce of care you never had the courage to give.”

“Y/n…”

“Y/n Norris,” you corrected, your voice cold now. “You lost the right to say my name the day you walked out and left me with a baby and no fucking idea what to do. No help. No money. No check-ins. You abandoned us, and now you think you can just call and insert yourself into his life because he’s old enough to form memories now?”

Silence.

“I made every bottle. I held him through every night terror. I worked two jobs while praying I wouldn’t miss another milestone. And then I met Lando — who didn’t have to step in, but chose to. Who didn’t just love me, but loved him. Who tucks him into bed every night he’s home, who taught him how to ride a bike and how to read a clock, and who kisses him on the forehead even when he thinks no one’s watching.”

“You think I don’t regret what I did?” his voice cracked, but you didn’t flinch. “I wasn’t ready—”

“You think I was?” you whispered harshly, voice shaking now. “You think I had a manual for being a mom at twenty-five? You ran. I stayed. And now you have the audacity to ask me to just… hand him over for a chat, like it’s that easy?”

“I just want to talk—”

“No,” you interrupted, your voice final. “He’s happy. He’s safe. And he doesn’t need you to confuse him now that he’s finally finding solid ground. Especially when all you want to do is soothe your own guilt, not actually be a father.”

“I’m his father whether you like it or not,” he hissed.

“No,” you said, eyes burning. “Lando is his father. He’s earned that title every single day, with love, not DNA.”

"I want to see him, speak to him. Sebastian is my son." he huffed.

"Take that up with his father if you feel so brave now, but I'm sure I know Lando's answer."

You didn’t give him the chance to respond. You hit end call, your hand trembling slightly as the call disconnected.

You stood there for a moment, collecting yourself, breathing through your nose as you tucked your phone back into your pocket. A soft noise caught your attention — a giggle from the kids.

You returned to the aisle to find Alexandra kneeling beside Lyla, who was now clutching a soft stuffed fox with velvety fur, her face glowing with delight. Sebastian held the LEGO box like it was made of gold.

“There’s my mama,” Sebastian said with a grin. “Is this one okay?”

You smiled, blinking back emotion. “That one’s perfect, bud.”

“Can we go home now and build it?” he asked.

You nodded, gathering them in close. “Yeah, let’s go home. We’ve got some pizza to order and movies to watch.”

Alexandra gave you a knowing look, a supportive warmth in her gaze.

You mouthed a soft thank you to her.

Time passed like a warm breeze, slow and golden, wrapping around the three of you with the kind of peace you hadn't felt in a while. After the toy store, you’d made a spontaneous day of it — a little ice cream, a detour to the duck pond where Lyla screamed “DUCKIES!” so loudly she startled a few of them into waddling chaos, and a stroll down the pier with the salty sea air brushing your cheeks. You snapped pictures constantly — Sebastian holding up his LEGO box triumphantly, Lyla wearing oversized sunglasses she found in a boutique and refusing to take them off, even a silly selfie with all three of your faces smushed together under the caption: “We miss you already, daddy 💛”

Even though Lando had only been gone since morning, the ache of his absence was already settled in your chest. You could feel it in the way you kept glancing at your phone, like you needed to send another photo, another text — partly for your reassurance, partly for his. Because if you missed him like this, you could only imagine how heavy his heart felt, knowing he left with Sebastian upset, Lyla too little to really understand goodbyes, and you… trying to hold it all together like you always did.

After the duck pond and walk, you stopped by a children’s boutique where Sebastian’s eyes lit up at the sight of a rack full of pajamas. “Can I get the race car ones?” he asked, already clutching them like treasure.

“Of course, baby,” you smiled.

Lyla chose a soft, cottony pink set with little teddy bears, hugging it to her chest with a proud little smile, even letting out a tiny squeal that melted your heart.

By the time the sky started darkening, you were all a little tired but happy — the kind of happy that made the silence in the car on the way home feel peaceful instead of awkward. You chuckled as you helped them out of the car, herding them into the flat.

“Alright, pajamas!” you called, clapping your hands. “Go get them on! I’m ordering the pizza and picking the movie. Then you two can come back in here and play with your toys.”

Sebastian darted to his room, practically airborne in excitement, clutching his pajama set. Lyla, however, clung to your leg like a little koala, dragging her pajamas on the floor behind her.

You gently ruffled her curls. “Come on, you too, missy. I’ll help you get dressed in a minute.”

Your phone rang, buzzing softly in your pocket. When you saw the name on the screen, your heart warmed.

Best Husband 💛

You answered with a smile already tugging at your lips. “My love.”

A tired sigh of relief echoed through the speaker. “God, I needed to hear your voice. Are the kids asleep?”

You glanced toward the hallway where Sebastian was noisily dragging open drawers. “Nope, we just got home. We’ve been out all day. You should see Lyla’s new sunglasses. I swear she thinks she’s a movie star.”

Lando chuckled, and you could practically hear the smile in his voice. “That sounds like her already. God, I miss you all so much… I want to speak to them, if that’s okay.”

But your smile faded slightly, the warmth in your chest twisting into something more uncertain.

“I actually need to speak with you first,” you murmured, tone quiet and serious.

Lando picked up on it immediately. “What’s going on?”

You stepped into the kitchen, glancing over your shoulder to make sure the kids were still occupied. You lowered your voice.

“His father called.”

The line went dead quiet for a few seconds, and then Lando exhaled sharply, almost like he had to physically calm himself. “He what?”

“Said he wants to talk. See him. And you know…” you trailed off, biting your lip. “Same guilt-tripping, same dramatics. He brought up the fact that we post pictures of you and Sebastian together, like it’s supposed to be some crime.”

“He’s an asshole,” Lando snapped without hesitation. “I would prefer he never sees Sebastian again. Period. I know you didn’t block him before — maybe part of you thought one day things could be different, or maybe for Sebastian’s sake… but now’s the time to block him. For good.”

You could feel the raw emotion behind his words — the frustration, the protectiveness, the love.

“I don’t care how selfish I sound, okay? Listen to me,” Lando continued, voice low and tight. “I love him. I love Sebastian like he’s my own. He is my own. And he’s clearly hurt and confused enough as it is right now. The last thing he needs is that man worming his way in and stirring up more shit.”

“I want to say the same thing, honey, I do,” you said softly. “But I think we need to be careful. This didn’t come out of nowhere. Someone planted this idea in Sebastian’s head — someone’s been talking behind our backs, and it’s eating at me. I don’t know if he overheard something or if it’s…”

“The media,” Lando muttered.

“I’ve been thinking that too,” you said. “He doesn’t have access to the internet, he’s seven. But… maybe something slipped through on the TV, or someone said something in public. It only takes one headline. And even if we limit comments, we can’t control everything.”

“I said the same thing,” Oscar piped up from the background, his voice distant but clear.

Lando groaned. “I mean come on — we’re careful. I hardly talk about the kids publicly. And when I do, it’s always vague or safe. I never name names or post anything personal.”

“I know, baby,” you said gently. “But not everyone cares about respecting boundaries. Some people just love digging where they don’t belong.”

There was a pause. You could hear the quiet buzz of the hotel room on the other end — the hum of a minibar, maybe the faint flicker of the TV in the background. You imagined Lando sitting on the edge of the bed, face in his hands, shoulders tight with worry.

“I hate this,” he finally said. “I hate that I’m away and you’re dealing with this. I hate that Sebastian’s even thinking about this. I hate that some faceless asshole behind a screen or a reporter with a notepad can get into my son’s head.”

“He’s just scared, Lan,” you murmured. “But he loves you. I see it every day. And you’re doing right by him — we both are. That’s what matters.”

You could hear him nodding, even if he didn’t speak.

“I ordered the pizza,” you added softly, trying to lighten the mood. “We’re watching Toy Story 2 tonight. Sebastian said it’s your favorite.”

Lando’s voice cracked with a small laugh. “It is my favorite. Tell him I said that’s a solid choice.”

“I will. After they’re in pajamas. Lyla’s currently pretending her leg doesn’t work because she doesn’t want to get changed.”

Lando laughed again, and this time it was lighter, like he was really smiling now. “She gets that from you.”

“Oh, shut up,” you said playfully, and for a second the weight lifted.

“Hey,” he added, voice gentle now. “Thanks for everything. For keeping them grounded… for being you. I know this isn’t easy.”

You closed your eyes. “It’s not. But we’re a team. Even miles away, we’ve still got this. And tomorrow, we figure out what the hell is actually going on.”

“Damn right,” he said. “And I’ll bring back a win, too. Just for you guys.”

You smiled, heart full.

“Then you better buckle in, Norris. Because Toy Story, pajamas, and pizza nights are hard to beat.”

“Impossible,” he replied. “But I’m coming home to try.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Lando being gone wasn’t new.

It was never easy, but it was familiar — a rhythm that ebbed and flowed like the tide. The early flights, the packed bags by the door, the quiet “I love you”s whispered over sleepy heads and soft kisses before the sun even broke the horizon. You’d grown used to the ache, the temporary emptiness of the house. What you never grew used to, though, was waking up and not having him there.

The bed felt far too big without him.

Sebastian had crawled into the middle during the night, tangled in the sheets like a little tornado of limbs and heat. His head rested on Lando’s pillow. Lyla, small and warm, was curled up in the crook of your arm like a kitten, her stuffed bunny pressed against her cheek.

You carefully untangled yourself, slipping out of bed with practiced ease. Neither of them stirred — a small blessing. These were the pockets of peace you counted on. The house was still, the morning light barely filtering through the curtains, and the silence was thick but comforting.

It was always like this on the first morning without him. Quiet. Empty, but full of purpose. You stood for a moment in the bathroom, hands braced on the sink, staring at your reflection. You could see the soft weariness around your eyes, the evidence of another night where you’d reached across the bed and found nothing but cool sheets.

“He’s not gone forever,” you murmured aloud, a mantra, not a reminder. Just a soft truth you whispered to yourself.

You showered slowly, letting the steam loosen your tense shoulders, letting your mind wander. There was always a to-do list playing quietly in the back of your head: school drop-offs, meals, cleaning, playtime, phone calls, maybe a grocery run, and somewhere in the middle of all that — time to feel his absence and push forward anyway.

By the time you wrapped yourself in your robe, hair damp, you were ready. You padded into the living room and curled into the couch with your phone, letting yourself fall into the mindless scroll for just a little while. Social media, messages from friends, a few missed texts from Lando sent at 2 a.m. his time.

Still up thinking about you. Tell Seb I love him. Kiss Lyla for me. I miss my girls.

You clutched the phone to your chest for a second, your breath catching. Then, quietly, you smiled.

After about an hour of peace, you placed the phone on the side table, stood up, and entered the kitchen. The hum of familiarity buzzed in your ears like a song you’d memorized long ago.

You didn’t need to think anymore — your hands just moved. You poured Lyla’s apple juice into her bunny sippy cup. It had a little bow drawn onto it with pink permanent marker — something she insisted on one afternoon when she decided all her toys needed to be “fancy.”

Sebastian’s orange juice went into his dinosaur cup — the same one he refused to drink out of unless it was “the dino one with the T-Rex not the triceratops.” You smirked a little at the thought as you set it on the table.

Then came the rest: pancakes for Lyla, perfectly golden and cut into tiny bite-sized hearts the way she liked them, with a side of blueberries she always pushed to the edge of her plate. For Sebastian, toast lightly browned, eggs just barely runny (any more and he would call them “slime eggs”), and two strips of crispy bacon he’d probably try and feed one to the cat even though you told him not to.

Everything was where it should be. Like muscle memory.

A sound behind you — groggy feet shuffling across the floor.

“Mama?” Sebastian mumbled, his curls sticking up in every direction, pajama pants slightly twisted around his legs.

You didn’t even turn around, just hummed as you flipped the final pancake. “Practice is going to happen soon,” you said softly, “you know they have to adjust, get themselves ready.”

He climbed onto the stool at the counter and rested his chin on the marble. “I miss him.”

You finally turned, wiping your hands and leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. “Me too,” you said quietly. “But he misses us just as much. Maybe even more.”

Lyla padded out a moment later, dragging her blanket behind her, eyes still puffy from sleep.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you cooed, sweeping her up into your arms.

“Dada?” she mumbled against your shoulder, her thumb slipping into her mouth.

“Soon, sweet girl,” you whispered. “You’ll see him soon.”

As they settled at the table, Sebastian perked up, watching you with those curious brown eyes.

“Are we gonna talk to Grandma today?”

You nodded, glancing at the clock. “We’ve got time. After I drop you off at school, Lyla and I are going to call her. You know she misses you two terribly.”

He grinned a little, the kind of smile only grandmothers could pull out of children. “Can I send her a picture of my dinosaur cup?”

You laughed. “Absolutely.”

It was all clockwork. Predictable. But it still hurt sometimes — to do all of this without Lando, to smile through it even when your chest ached and your throat tightened unexpectedly.

But you managed.

You always did.

Because your kids were watching. Because their little hearts depended on you. Because Lando, miles away and probably staring at a calendar on his phone, counting down the days until he could be back, needed to know you could hold it all together.

And you would.

Just like every other morning.

Motherhood had a way of testing your limits and then rewarding you in small, quiet ways. After you dropped Sebastian off at school — his usual chatter about karting practice and Lego sets still echoing in your ears — the rest of your day unfolded like a long, busy stretch of survival mode. You managed a video call with Cisca, who filled your morning with soft smiles and much-needed comfort. Lyla’s meltdown over her empty bunny sippy cup had you on your knees, trying to calm her down while preparing breakfast and unloading the dishwasher at the same time. It was one of those mornings where time seemed to slip through your fingers.

The car got cleaned, though that required strategic maneuvering with a clingy toddler on your hip. You made a small grocery run, holding her hand tightly while she stared cautiously at every passing stranger. Then you walked her around the quiet park near your building, hoping the fresh air would calm her nerves. And it did — a little. She let go of your hand for all of five minutes before gluing herself to your leg again.

Eventually, you made it back to the flat. You swept and mopped floors, wiped down counters, and sorted laundry while Lyla played quietly with her toys in the living room. She had picked out a stuffed bunny, a wooden puzzle, and one of Sebastian’s smaller race cars — and all three were lined up next to her as she sprawled out on the floor.

And just like that… she was asleep.

Not in her bed, not on the couch — but flat on the playmat, one hand still resting on the toy bunny. Her tiny chest rose and fell slowly, lashes resting like feathers against her cheeks. You stood there for a moment, arms crossed, soft smile tugging at your lips. Then you carefully picked her up, mindful not to wake her, and tucked her into bed. You kissed her forehead, lingered there for a beat, then finally had a moment of peace to yourself.

And that’s when you called him.

The screen rang only once before Lando’s tired but joyful face filled your screen, his curls a little messy under a cap, eyes lighting up at the sight of you.

“My favorite girl,” he greeted, voice warm and smooth, as if it could wrap you up.

You let out a small, relieved breath, your shoulders finally dropping. “I was calling just to see if you’re surviving,” you teased lightly, your voice soft, your love clear even in the distance.

He let out a short laugh. “Yeah, just about. Got some practice coming up. You know how leading into a race weekend is — mind on a thousand things.”

You nodded. “I figured. Sebastian’s at school, and Lyla’s down for a nap… finally.” You leaned back on the couch, rubbing your temple.

“She’s sleeping a lot lately?” Lando asked gently, concern twitching at his brow.

“Yeah,” you murmured, your smile fading. “I think the anxiety’s wearing her out. I mean, it’s not dramatic all the time — she’s not screaming or crying. But she clings to me like I’m her anchor, and when she’s like that… I can tell her brain’s on overload.”

His jaw tensed slightly, the helplessness setting into his eyes. “I hate that I’m not there. I hate not being able to help her when she’s like that.”

You sighed and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You help more than you know, even just by existing as her safe space. But I won’t lie… it’s getting hard, Lando. I don’t want this to feel normal for her.”

“I know, baby,” he said quietly. “Let’s talk more about getting her a child therapist when I get home. Someone trained in early social anxiety, someone who’ll take it slow. She doesn’t need to feel like the world’s too loud for her forever.”

You nodded slowly, your throat tightening. “That’d help… thank you.”

There was a brief silence between you — not uncomfortable, just full of unspoken longing — until you finally exhaled again and shifted the conversation.

“Anyway,” you said, trying to lighten the mood, “Sebastian has more practices coming up. I’m hoping you’ll be home in time for his competition.”

Lando’s face softened with guilt. “Yeah. I know. I’m doing everything I can to make sure I’m there. Even if it means I have to sprint off the track and hop on a plane. I’ll deal with the team's reaction after. I won’t miss it.”

“You promise?” you asked, needing to hear it aloud.

He smiled. “Cross my heart. I’m his biggest fan. I wouldn’t miss watching our boy race for anything.”

You felt a swell of affection in your chest, unable to hide your smile. “Good. He’ll want you there — he already asked twice this morning if you’d make it.”

“Tell him yes,” Lando said firmly. “Tell him I’ll be there with bells on.”

You laughed softly, then glanced at the time. “So, um… your mom and I talked earlier. She wants to have Sebastian and Lyla for the summer. Says she misses the chaos.”

Lando’s eyes widened a bit. “I figured she’d bring that up.”

“She’s already planning beach days and movie nights, Lando. I think she’s ready for full grandma mode,” you joked.

“They’ll love being with her,” Lando said with a grin. “They’ll be with their cousins, run around outside, no cameras, no pressure. It’ll be good for them.”

You quirked a brow. “And what will we be doing?”

He leaned closer to the camera, eyes dancing. “Well, I was thinking… maybe I take you somewhere sunny, just us, no responsibilities…”

You laughed again. “You say that, but I know what’s going on in that head of yours. Keep it in your pants.”

Lando feigned innocence, wiggling his brows mischievously. “Mmm, I don’t know, love… baby number three doesn’t sound so bad.”

You gasped, half-joking, half-serious. “Lando Norris! Sebastian is seven and Lyla is two!”

“And?” he smirked. “That’s perfect spacing. You’d be glowing again, and we already know how good I am at naming kids.”

You shook your head, cheeks warm with laughter. “You're unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably in love with you,” he added smoothly, gaze softening.

You fell quiet for a beat, letting his words settle in your chest.

“I miss you,” you whispered.

“I miss you more,” he replied, his voice a little hoarse. “But I’ll be home soon. I promise.”

And as the call continued, you found yourself feeling lighter — knowing that even when things felt heavy, you didn’t have to carry it all alone.

“You guys’ll be watching the race, huh?”

You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your heart. “When do we ever miss your races? We watch every single one. Whether it’s on the couch, the tablet in the car, or Lyla yelling ‘Dada!’ at the screen in the middle of the grid walk.”

He laughed softly, his eyes glowing with that boyish charm that never seemed to fade. “You’re gonna be watching me win then?”

You smirked. “We’re going to be watching you win with snacks, and matching shirts, and banners Sebastian insists on hanging from the window like it’s a football match.”

Lando leaned his chin into his palm, clearly imagining it all. “God, I love that. I love you guys.”

“And when you come home…” you started.

“We’ll celebrate,” he said in unison, and your face lit up as you nodded. “All of us,” you added.

He raised a brow with a mischievous tilt of his lips. “So, no just you and me then? No little alone time?”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “Mr. Norris.”

He laughed at the way you said it, all mock-serious and slightly amused.

He countered with a grin, “Mrs. Norris.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “Husband.”

He leaned closer to the camera, eyes soft, teasing, “Wife.”

Silence fell for a beat — the kind of silence wrapped in warmth and longing — before you both let out small, soft chuckles, laughing at nothing in particular, just the comfort of each other.

He sighed gently, his eyes darting away for a second, then back to you. “What is with you wanting another baby?” you asked, arching a curious brow. “Lyla is two. And she’s still in diapers!”

He shrugged, that knowing, cheeky smirk forming again. “I don’t know… I think I’m growing into this whole ‘loving family man’ thing.”

You tilted your head, amused but still listening.

“I mean, I still love going out, hanging with the guys, laughing till we cry — you know that. But something about you, and them…” His voice lowered a bit, softer now. “Something about our life together. I don’t know. It hits different. Like, I never knew coming home to sticky hands and toy cars on the couch would feel better than champagne and lights and music.”

You smiled, hand absentmindedly playing with the necklace around your neck. “You’ve changed. In a good way.”

“I am changing,” he agreed, “but I still love who I’ve always been. I’m just loving this part of me more. The part that watches you sing while folding laundry, or kisses Lyla’s curls when she falls asleep on my chest, or watches Sebastian explain why one dinosaur could totally beat another in a race.”

You chuckled, teary-eyed and full of love. “You’re soft.”

He smirked, “I’m a marshmallow for you. And them. Completely useless without you guys.”

You nodded slowly, eyes glinting with emotion. “We’re useless without you too.”

Then, of course, came the turn.

“And I think I do want another baby,” he added, more serious this time, eyes not leaving yours.

You let out a slow sigh. “Maybe one day, Lando. Maybe when you retire… When you’re actually home more than gone.”

He shrugged innocently. “Mmm, if I can just pull out enough—”

“Lando Norris!” you scolded sharply, eyes wide.

He burst into laughter, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m kidding! I swear. Kind of. Half kidding.”

You narrowed your eyes, trying to suppress your smile but failing.

“I just…” He leaned back slightly, his gaze softening. “I love what we’ve built. I love what we’re still building. And if I’m being honest, even the hard days — the tantrums, the late-night feedings, the exhausting travel — I’d do it all again with you.”

Your breath caught for a moment, a knot forming in your throat as his words settled.

“I’d do it all again with you too,” you whispered.

He exhaled, smiling.

"I have to go, but I love you and you have to watch the race" he said

"we wouldn't miss it for the world"

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The tension had built up for days.

In the quiet stillness of your Monaco flat, it was race day. You could feel it in the air, thick with excitement and nerves. The living room was decked out in your usual Norris-family race day tradition — soft throws on the couch, little flags in the corner, and three matching shirts that read “Team Norris” in bold navy lettering. Lyla had one much too big for her tiny frame, but she wore it anyway, content on your lap, her thumb in her mouth and her wide eyes fixed on the TV screen. Sebastian, meanwhile, was nearly bouncing in place, his eyes shining, his hair still a little mussed from sleep.

You hadn't heard much from Lando since the night before — just a quick "I love you" text with a photo of him on the grid in the early prep stages — but you understood. This was the one. The big one. And you knew where his mind had to be. It still didn’t stop you from missing him.

"He has to win!" Sebastian said again with conviction, this time louder, his feet tucked under the blanket and his eyes already locked on the pre-race footage.

You gave a soft smile, brushing your hand over Lyla’s curls before standing. “Just give it some time, sweetheart. I'll get your snacks — popcorn or goldfish?”

“Both!” Sebastian shouted after you as you headed into the kitchen.

Back in the living room, Sebastian leaned closer to his baby sister, a grin spreading across his face. “Daddy’s gonna win, I just know it,” he whispered like it was a sacred truth. “And I’ll prove my point to Matteo from school, who said Daddy’s only second-best. Hah! Wait till he sees this.”

Lyla blinked at him, offering a toothy grin and a little clumsy clap as she watched the colorful cars roll out onto the formation lap.

Meanwhile, across the world, on the grid.

Lando pulled on his gloves, taking one last breath as the helmet was lowered onto his head. The outside world dimmed.

The engineers around him buzzed with activity, last-minute data checks, and tire temps, but Lando was quiet, focused. One AirPod still in, playing the last voice note you had sent him — Lyla babbling in the background, Sebastian yelling "Bring home a trophy, Dad!" and you, soft and reassuring, saying, “No matter the result, we’re watching, and we’re proud.”

He closed his eyes. That was all he needed.

Oscar passed by with a thumbs up, and Lando nodded, his jaw tight but a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

He climbed into the cockpit, strapping in.

“Radio check,” his engineer’s voice buzzed.

“Radio check, loud and clear,” Lando replied.

“Alright, Lando. You know the target. Eyes forward.”

Back in Monaco…

You returned with two bowls, setting them on the coffee table as the lights on the screen counted down.

“Okay guys… here we go,” you said, dropping to the couch and wrapping one arm around Lyla, the other rubbing Sebastian’s back.

“Lights out and away we go!”

Lap 1-10:

Lando got off to a strong start, holding his position in P2, close behind Verstappen. The first few laps were all about rhythm, getting into the groove. You leaned forward as you watched him maneuver confidently, hugging apexes, defending perfectly from Leclerc who trailed behind in P3.

“He’s doing good, right?” Sebastian asked, clutching a little toy McLaren car in his hands.

“He’s doing amazing,” you smiled, heart pounding.

Lap 11-25:

The tension began to build. Lando was gaining time in Sector 2 — fast, precise, pushing the limits.

Then came the first big move: DRS open, Lando dove down the inside of Max at Turn 4 — bold, committed, clean. He took the lead.

You stood up instinctively, nearly knocking the popcorn bowl over. “Oh my God! He did it!” you gasped, hands over your mouth.

Sebastian jumped up and down on the couch. “HE’S IN FIRST! MAMA! HE’S IN FIRST!”

Lyla clapped again, amused by the yelling more than the race itself.

Lap 26-40:

Pit stops came and went. The team got Lando out just in time to cover an undercut from Carlos Sainz. It was tight, the kind of strategy that made your hands sweat and your heart ache, but it worked.

Lando stayed ahead.

You texted him a quick message even though you knew he wouldn’t see it till hours later: “We’re screaming. In the best way. Keep going, baby.”

Lap 41-55:

Fatigue started to show on track. Tire wear became an issue for nearly everyone — except Lando. He managed his tires like a master, something you knew he’d been working on.

Oscar came up on the radio: “Keep pushing, mate. Clean sectors. He’s not gaining.”

Back in Monaco, you were chewing on a nail, leaning forward, whispering, “Come on, come on, come on...”

Sebastian sat completely still, eyes locked, absorbing everything, while Lyla dozed slightly against your arm.

Lap 56-60:

A late Virtual Safety Car nearly ruined everything — a spin from Tsunoda meant Lando had to hold his nerve for a restart with just four laps to go.

“You got this, baby,” you whispered.

Lando held the restart beautifully.

Max tried to pressure him. Leclerc was still lurking. But it wasn’t enough.

You saw it coming — last lap, still leading, gap stable — and your heart rose into your throat.

Final Lap.

“He’s going to do it, he’s going to do it,” you repeated like a prayer, holding Lyla tighter as she shifted awake.

Sebastian stood tall on the couch, arms raised before the car even crossed the line.

Lando Norris takes the win!

The living room erupted.

You scooped Sebastian into your arms, both of you yelling, laughing. Lyla squealed at the noise, bouncing in your grip as you kissed her forehead.

“That’s your dad!” you said, tears pricking your eyes. “That’s our guy!”

Sebastian was fist-pumping, dancing around. “He did it! I TOLD YOU! I TOLD EVERYONE!”

The energy from the win still surged through Lando like electricity.

Champagne soaked his fire suit, the fizzy scent clinging to his skin, and the weight of the first-place trophy still tingled in his fingers. It had been a long, grueling season, but this moment—this victory—made every drop of sweat, every frustrating finish, every near miss worth it.

He had stood on the top step of the podium, the national anthem ringing in his ears, flanked by rivals who, in that moment, were just shadows in his periphery. He’d closed his eyes as the crowd roared, tilting his head back to the sky, arms raised—this one was for them. For you. For Sebastian. For Lyla.

The after-race buzz carried him into the media pen, where bright lights flashed and microphones lined up like waiting mouths.

He knew the drill. Praise, performance, statistics. But this time, it felt different. More personal.

The interviewer greeted him warmly, microphone in hand, and Lando offered her his usual winning grin, wiping a stray drop of champagne from his cheek.

"That race was amazing! You did good out there, congratulations on your win."

“Ah, thank you,” Lando said, voice steady but still glowing with pride. “We’ve been working hard as a team. McLaren has been putting in the effort. I think this is a result we absolutely deserve. We’ve come a long way and I’m proud of all of us.”

"You made some great overtakes, looked pretty smooth on the track out there,” she added.

He chuckled, brushing a hand through his damp curls. “Yeah, I agree. I did enjoy that. Smooth. Confident. Covered in champagne now,” he added playfully, gesturing to the soaked suit.

The interviewer laughed lightly. “So, onto a serious question—what pushed your focus today?”

Lando’s smile softened. “My family back home,” he said without hesitation. “My wife and our kids. Every time I race, I know they’re watching. That matters more than anything else. My son’s probably bouncing off the walls right now, and my daughter... well, she’s probably clapping and not really understanding why,” he laughed gently.

“Speaking of,” the interviewer said, voice shifting slightly, “Lyla has grown a lot, hasn’t she? She’s your first child, correct?”

Lando tilted his head, surprised. “Lyla’s my youngest. Sebastian’s the first,” he corrected with ease.

The interviewer’s expression stiffened slightly, a subtle shift in tone as she pressed forward. “Right, but... Sebastian isn’t biologically yours, is he? That’s been talked about online a lot. It’s everywhere on social media, so we were just wondering if you could confirm it. Are you... a bonus dad, then?”

There was a pause.

The sparkle in Lando’s eyes dimmed instantly. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he simply stared at her. The celebratory atmosphere turned cold.

“Where are you getting your information?” he asked, voice clipped, firm.

She blinked. “It’s all over the internet. Just speculation, and we’ve talked about it before in smaller settings—”

“You’ve talked about it,” Lando interrupted, his tone sharper now. “Without us. Without permission. Without context. That’s not speculation. That’s invasion.”

The camera continued rolling, capturing every twitch of his expression as it darkened.

“I’m sorry,” he said, more composed now but pointed. “What part of this interview gives you the right to belittle my son? Because that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

The interviewer seemed to falter, caught off-guard.

“I don’t race for this,” Lando said, voice steady but seething. “I don’t climb into that car, risk my life, give my everything—just to sit here and hear you disrespect a little boy who’s probably wearing my name on his back right now.”

He took a deep breath, visibly trying to steady the anger that surged beneath the surface. “I’ve been in his life since he was three. I’ve tucked him in every night I’m home. I’ve been at his karting races, holding his helmet, tying his shoes, patching his scraped knees. I’ve wiped his tears and celebrated his victories. That is my son. Period.”

The interviewer tried to speak, “I was just—”

“Digging,” Lando cut her off coldly. “You were digging. For drama. For a soundbite. Let me make something clear. Your job is to ask me about this—” he gestured around the paddock, the track, the microphones—“not about my family. Not about my wife. Not about my children.”

He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. His words, low and calm, cut sharper than anything else could.

“I’m not a ‘bonus dad.’ I’m just his dad,” he continued, emotion cracking just slightly in his voice. “If you can’t understand that, then you’re not qualified to sit behind that microphone. And if any of you out there are scrolling through my wife’s social media trying to create stories out of our life, just know — it ends here. Her account will be private by tonight, and I’ll make damn sure of that.”

Lando stared her down, jaw tight. “I love my family. I protect my family. You don’t get to question that.”

And with that, he pushed the mic gently aside and turned, walking off, his soaked fire suit leaving damp footprints on the concrete. The cameras followed him, the silence of the interviewer deafening behind him.

At home, you had pulled Sebastian into your lap, shielding him from some of the awkward silence, but he had heard enough to understand that his dad had defended him.

Your heart swelled with love. You pressed your lips to Sebastian’s temple.

“He’s the best,” Sebastian whispered, resting his head against your shoulder.

“He really is,” you whispered back, eyes misty.

And as the screen faded to coverage of the next driver interview, the three of you sat there in silence — proud, warm, protected.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

It was well past midnight when the front door clicked open.

The Monaco flat was dimly lit, the soft hum of the city outside barely reaching through the thick windows. Lando stepped inside quietly, careful not to let the door slam behind him. He stood still for a moment, shoulders heavy with travel and the weight of the last few days, just breathing it all in.

Home.

It smelled like lavender and laundry detergent. Like calm. Like you.

He dropped his bag gently by the wall, toes sinking into the familiar rug. The place was quiet—so quiet it almost made him hesitate. But then—

“Lando?”

Your voice came softly from down the hall, thick with sleep but unmistakable. He turned toward it just in time to see you stepping out from the bedroom, wearing one of his hoodies, your hair messy, eyes puffy from sleep.

“You’re awake?” he asked, surprised but touched.

You didn’t answer right away. You just walked to him, arms wrapping around his torso as your head found his chest. He let out a long breath, holding you tightly, his hand smoothing over your back like he’d been aching to do it for weeks.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you whispered. “Not till I knew you were home safe.”

He kissed the top of your head, quietly. “I’m here now.”

You looked up at him after a beat. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked gently, brow furrowing.

You swallowed, stepping back just enough to look into his eyes. “For defending Sebastian... in that interview after the race. I watched it live. I—I cried, Lando. You stood up for him like he was born yours. I think you gave him something that day that words can’t explain. Closure. Pride. Love.”

His face softened. “You don’t need to thank me for loving my own kid.”

You took his hand, giving it a small squeeze. “Come on, sit with me.”

You both moved to the living room, the silence between you filled only with the late-night hum of the world outside. Lando sank into the couch beside you and pulled something out of his backpack—a large envelope.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he said, handing it to you. “But during this trip... I finally did it.”

You opened the envelope slowly. Your breath caught when you saw the words printed at the top of the first page.

Petition for Adoption.

Your hand flew to your mouth as your eyes began to water. “Lando…”

“I want to adopt Sebastian,” he said firmly. “Not just emotionally. Not just in practice. I want him to know, for the rest of his life, that he’s mine. In every way. I want him to carry my name proudly, not just because it’s what he’s always known—but because I chose him. Because he’s my son.”

You blinked through your tears, heart aching in the most beautiful way.

“He is your son,” you whispered. “He always has been, but... yes. Yes, of course you can adopt him. His biological father gave up any rights years ago. This... it’ll just make it official.”

Lando smiled, relief and love rushing over his face like a wave.

“I want him to see his name on paper and know that he was never second choice. That I was never filling a space. That I am his dad.”

You reached for him, pulling him into another hug, both of you holding onto each other tightly.

“He’s going to love this,” you murmured against his shoulder. “He’ll be so proud.”

After a moment, he kissed the top of your head and leaned back, looking toward the dark hallway.

“Where are they?”

“In our bed,” you said with a sleepy laugh. “They didn’t know you’d be home tonight, so they both passed out in your spot.”

Lando chuckled quietly. “Of course they did. I should’ve guessed.”

He stood and stretched, running a hand through his messy curls, then glanced back at you with a tired but happy smile.

“I’ll crawl in beside them. I missed that.”

You nodded. “Go ahead. I’ll put the papers somewhere safe.”

As he disappeared down the hallway toward your shared bedroom, you lingered on the couch a little longer, fingers brushing over the envelope in your lap. The adoption papers felt like more than just forms. They were proof of love, of choice, of a bond deeper than blood.

Lando Norris wasn’t just a driver. He wasn’t just a husband.

He was a father—one who had chosen your son with his whole heart.

And soon, the world would know it, too.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

It was a bright, golden Saturday morning, the kind where the sun felt warmer just from the happiness in the air. The buzz of excitement surrounded the karting track as parents gathered along the fences, kids zipped around in anticipation, and the low hum of engines created a constant vibration in the atmosphere.

You stood at the edge of the crowd, gently rocking Lyla in your arms. Her little fists clung to your hoodie, her face buried against your neck as the loudness of the event overwhelmed her small, sensitive self. Her curls tickled your cheek as she whimpered softly, the noise too much, the people too many.

“I know, baby girl,” you murmured, swaying gently with her. “You’re okay. Mama’s got you. We’re just watching your big brother, and I promise you’re safe. Deep breaths, just like we practiced.”

You could feel her breathing start to match yours, still uneven, but getting there.

Not far away, Lando crouched in front of Sebastian, who stood in his racing boots, looking up at his stepdad with wide, focused eyes. Lando held out the fresh, custom McLaren-orange-and-black racing suit with his name stitched across the chest: Sebastian Norris.

“Here, champ. Get this on,” Lando said with a grin, his eyes gleaming with pride.

Sebastian’s smile was immediate—half excitement, half nerves—as he slipped into the suit with Lando’s help. Lando zipped it up and adjusted the collar, smoothing out the sleeves like he was dressing him for battle.

“Remember,” Lando began, placing a hand over Sebastian’s shoulder, “you’ve got this. You’re fast, you’re smart, and you’re brave. Everything I taught you in practice—that was just guidance. But today? This is your race. It’s your hands on the wheel. You own every second out there. Be proud of yourself no matter what.”

You stepped closer, giving Sebastian a warm smile. “And remember something else too, baby. Even if you don’t come first, we’re always proud of you. You’re our superstar no matter what place you get, okay?”

Sebastian, eyes big with emotion, suddenly launched himself forward and wrapped his arms around both of you, burying his face between you and Lando. It was tight and fast and full of love.

“Love you both,” he said into the hug.

“We love you more,” you both echoed at the same time, grinning.

Just then, a familiar voice called out beside you. “Am I missing anything?”

You turned to see Oscar Piastri, sunglasses pushed into his curls and a grin on his face. He was holding a drink in one hand and his phone in the other, like he’d rushed to get there just in time.

“You showed up at the right moment,” you said, nodding toward the track. “Taking the uncle role seriously?”

Oscar glanced at Lyla, who peeked up at him briefly before hiding again. “Trying,” he said, a little awkwardly, patting her gently on the back like he wasn’t quite sure how to comfort a toddler.

You chuckled. “She’ll warm up to you. She’s got anxiety, so she’s on edge right now, but... just wait. She’s going to adore you. You’re already one of her favorite people—we just haven’t told her yet.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow playfully. “Guess I better live up to it.”

Meanwhile, Sebastian climbed into his kart with Lando by his side. The helmet went on. Visor down. Gloves tightened. It was the kind of moment that made your heart swell—watching a boy take after the man who raised him, inspired by him.

Lando leaned in for one last word, tapping Sebastian’s helmet twice. “Have fun out there, alright? Do it for yourself.”

Then the engines roared.

The race began.

You, Lando, and Oscar stood at the rail, eyes locked on the track. The karts whizzed by, and you could barely keep up with how fast they were moving. Sebastian got a decent start but was caught behind a few karts early on, stuck in the middle pack. Lando’s hands clenched the fence, but his voice remained calm.

“You’re okay, son! You’ve got time. Stay smart, find your line,” he called out.

Sebastian, laser-focused, didn’t respond, but you knew he heard him. You could tell by the way he adjusted his line and began picking up pace. Lap after lap, he pushed harder, smoothly maneuvering the corners and creeping up on the front two.

“He’s holding steady,” Oscar muttered. “Smart kid.”

On the final lap, everything changed.

Sebastian saw the opening at the hairpin—a risky move, the kind Lando had pulled once years ago in Formula 1. With confidence far beyond his years, Sebastian went for it, cutting in sharply and overtaking both drivers with stunning precision. The crowd erupted.

You screamed. “THAT’S MY BABY!”

Lando pumped his fists into the air, grabbing Lyla out of your arms and lifting her up with joy.

“HE DID IT! That’s my boy!” Lando laughed, peppering kisses all over Lyla’s cheek as she giggled, her anxiety forgotten for a moment. “Your brother did it, little bug! This means we’re gonna celebrate!”

You felt your throat tighten with pride as the announcer echoed the final call over the speakers:

“Sebastian Norris takes the win! What an incredible overtake! What a finish!”

Sebastian pulled into the finish area, lifting his helmet off to reveal a glowing, flushed face and the biggest grin you’d ever seen. His eyes searched the crowd—he wasn’t looking for the trophy.

He was looking for his family.

And you were already running.

The day had been filled with celebration—post-race chatter with other parents, Sebastian glowing under the praise, Lyla surprisingly soothed by the familiar warmth of family even in the crowd. You all went out for lunch, somewhere simple and kid-friendly, where Sebastian insisted on ordering the “victory pancakes” and got whipped cream on his nose. Lando let him wear his medal around his neck the entire time.

Now, hours later, the sun hanging gently above the Monaco skyline, the flat was filled with a peace that only came after a day well-spent.

You sat curled up on the couch with Lando, your legs across his lap and his fingers lazily tracing circles on your ankle. The golden glow from the windows bathed the room in light, and across from you, in the display case that Lando had meticulously organized, sat Sebastian’s first-ever karting trophy. It gleamed under the soft light—placed proudly in the center, as if it belonged in a museum.

“We did it,” Lando said softly, breaking the silence with a small, awed chuckle. “He won.”

You smiled and leaned your head against his shoulder, watching the way his eyes lingered on the trophy with that soft fatherly pride that never got old. “He did. And he earned it. You both did.”

Lando looked at you with a grin, then glanced toward the hallway. “He���s been jumping on his bed for the past ten minutes, I swear.”

“He’s seven,” you laughed. “He might still be jumping when he’s seventeen.”

“Honestly, he’s got something special,” Lando said. “Just at seven... imagine what kind of skill he’ll have when he’s older. He’s going to be unstoppable.”

Your fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt. “I believe it. And Lyla… well, hopefully she picks something a little less... tire-screeching. Maybe something quiet. Like painting or reading books.”

Lando laughed. “Please. I am begging the universe for that.”

“She’s only two and already doesn’t like loud noises,” you reminded him, nodding toward her room where soft music was playing and little clinks of plastic toys could be heard as she played peacefully. “Let’s pray it sticks.”

Lando’s arm slid around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “You still haven’t rewarded me,” he teased, voice low and cheeky.

You raised a brow with a smirk. “Rewarded you for what?”

He grinned. “For raising a champion, obviously. For all my hard work. The late nights. The endless pep talks. The helmet adjusting.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, pretending to consider. “So... what are you asking for exactly?”

His eyebrows wiggled, and you knew exactly where this was going. “Well,” he said, leaning in. “The kids will be asleep tonight... it’ll just be me and you... in our bed...”

You snorted, swatting his chest. “Lando!”

“I’m just saying!” he laughed. “It’s the perfect time to discuss a possible baby number three... maybe even a name list.”

You pulled back, eyes wide and playful. “We are not having another baby, Lando.”

He gasped in mock betrayal. “Mrs. Norris, how dare you deny your devoted husband more offspring!”

You burst out laughing. “You are being needy.”

“And you,” he leaned in to kiss you, “are being difficult.”

Just as you kissed him back, the sweet moment was interrupted by a voice yelling from down the hall: “MOM! DAD! Come look! I made a racetrack out of my LEGOs!”

You looked at Lando, who just gave a breathless chuckle, resting his forehead against yours. “Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it anyway.

“Because I’m just... happy,” he said, voice soft. “He’s a Norris now. Really a Norris. Legally. Officially. My boy.”

Your heart swelled at the way his voice cracked ever so slightly at the word my. You reached up to kiss him again, fingers brushing his cheek.

“He always was,” you whispered. “Even before the papers. But now... it’s forever.”

Lando’s lips curved into a proud smile. “Yeah. Forever.”

Then, with a twinkle in his eye, he leaned back and added, “And baby three will be too—”

You grabbed the nearest couch pillow and chucked it at him, hitting him square in the chest.

“Your baby fever is at an all-time high,” you warned, grinning as he laughed and threw his hands up.

“Get it fixed, Norris.”

“Can’t help it!” he said, holding the pillow like a prize. “You made this life too good.”

And somewhere down the hall, a little boy was yelling about tires and turns, a little girl was humming with her toys, and in that living room—surrounded by trophies, laughter, and the soft kind of love that lasts—Lando Norris sat beside his forever family, more proud than he ever imagined he could be.

☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★

TAG LIST: @aunslie @fastandcurious16

[sunrizef1]

manchild!

Pairing: Lando Norris x Ex!Reader, Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warnings: Cheating

Authors Note: idk

Requested: No

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ynln

liked by lando taylorswift and 12,011,124 others

ynln turns out love can’t fix emotional immaturity

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selenagomez been there 💌 so proud of you girl 🫶

danielricciardo can’t wait for the diss track

user1 lol

user2 get his ass

oliviarodrigo amen 🙏

user3 girl why did lando like 😭

user4 where does my girl keep finding these absolute children to date???

user5 louder for the people in the back 🗣️

taylorswift 🤍

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lando not everything has to be public

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maxverstappen1 I tried to warn you

user6 yall see Lando’s comment???

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alexandrasaintmleux

His loss 😍

ynln

Ily 💋

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ynln f**k my life! ‘Manchild’ - out now 💋

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user7 VOCALSSSSSS

user8 wait! I love 😭😭😭

user9 my country queen

user10 this is Miss Americana

taylorswift summer of Yn!

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charles_leclerc im gonna stay out of this one… 🫣

user11 imagine being lando and fumbling this diva

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lando really?

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popgoss has Yn finally found a driver more her speed? The “manchild” singer was spotted getting quite cozy with seven-time world champion, Lewis Hamilton, in London today!

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user14 she really went from manchild to a real man

user15 I’ve always preferred Ferrari

user16 oh thank god, she looks so good in red

user17 wait… I ship

user18 a MAN

user19 Lando’s somewhere crashing out

user20 the better driver won

user21 stream manchild!!!

user22 her getting with Lewis has to be so devastating for Lando

user23 like seeing your crush get with your cooler older brother lol 😭

user24 lando who????

user25 she WANTED him to see this lmfao

user26 Lando’s gonna start thirst-trapping again I can’t

user27 Lando getting cooked on every platform rn

user28 they are genuinely so hot together

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ynln

liked by lewishamilton oscarpiastri and 8,616,544 others

ynln I like my men competent

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user29 are those LEWIS’S TATTOOS????

user30 I spy father!!!!

user31 love her fully pretending this is a soft launch when we all know who that is

user32 LEWIS!

user33 I’m willing to bet Lewis took that third picture

user34 I hear Lando screaming in the distance

taylorswift happy for you!

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danielricciardo 👀

user35 lewisssssssss

user36 who’s the most competent driver on the grid? 👀… exactly. Lewis.

user37 upgraded

selenagomez 💌

lewishamilton 🙋🏽‍♂️

ynln 💋

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