multifandomsofficial

[multifandomsofficial]

Lando: Do you know why koalas aren’t classified as bears? Oscar: Because they’re marsupials. Lando: Oscar: Lando: *walking away and mumbling under his breath* Because they’re marsupials— NO, ITS BECAUSE THEY DON’T HAVE THE KOALAFICATIONS!

[multifandomsofficial]

Yeeees, let's go with season 5 requests \o/

Request 1- (based on seasons 2/3/4) when reader and Judas are best friends, and she had a nightmare when she saw Judas betraying Jesus 😭💔 Judas tries to comfort her, telling her this is only a horrible dream and it will never happen 😭💔

Request 2- Yussif y/n are best friends since childhood, and he secretly likes her. After the conversation with Nicodemus, Yussif goes to y/n's house and talk her about what Nico sayed. Y/n gets worried and scared for him, and ask him to please not say anything drastic at the pharisses reunion, because y/n don't want to lose him!

Prompt : "Just don't risk your life, please! You are my best friend and I'm scared of losing you!"

Hello, my beautiful friend! I actually already got all of your requests from your dms. Thanks for putting them in the inbox, though! Always appreciated! ❣️

[multifandomsofficial]

How do you think John beloved would be if he fell for a young woman with a couple children of her own and a late husband?

At first, I think John wouldn't really even consider the idea of a romantic relationship with her, since he knows she's a widow, so he feels like that she wouldn't be interested in him to begin with.

However, as he gets to know her better, her grit and devotion to God in spite of all her hardships and grief make him fall for her before he even realises that he's developing feelings.

He doesn't approach her about it, though, only if she is the one to confess to him first. It would take her a while, too, for she needs the time to process everything that happened.

And once she is ready, she realises just how seriously John wants to be a father-figure for her children. In spite of them not being his blood, he treats them as if they were his own. Of course they begin calling him abba at some point, which is the final incentive their mother needs to say yes to the younger son of Thunder.

Perhaps that one day, they might have another baby together, but right now, this is brings more domestic bliss than they could ever have prayed for.

[multifandomsofficial]

saw you were looking for requests!!

ive been thinking of how lando would be sooo gentle with a reader who hasnt ever been loved properly like he would absolutely spoil her till the end of the world even if she refused

like he'd get her favorite flowers and take photos of her all the time and tell her he loves her 24/7

omg yes, I love this! He would be so sweet and caring without even thinking about it! I wrote this pretty quick, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out.

Like You Deserve

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Soft Romance Warnings: Mentions of past emotional neglect, low self-worth, crying, healthy relationship dynamics, tooth-rotting fluff Word Count: ~1200 Summary: You’ve never been loved like this. Not gently. Not completely. Not without strings or apologies. But Lando? Lando loves you like it’s the easiest thing in the world — and slowly, impossibly, you begin to let him.

Masterlist

The first time you cried in front of Lando, it was over something stupid.

At least, that’s what you told him.

It had been a long day. One of those heavy, dragging ones where everything feels just slightly off. You got the wrong coffee order. Your boss snapped at you. Someone bumped into you on the train and didn’t say sorry. Nothing huge, nothing tragic — just little paper cuts you’d bled from quietly.

And then you got home, and there they were.

Peonies. Your favorite.

A bouquet in your favorite color, sitting in a glass vase on the kitchen counter. No note. No announcement. Just waiting.

You stared at them like they might disappear if you blinked.

And when Lando came in from the other room — curls damp from a shower, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows — and smiled at you like you mattered, you burst into tears.

He crossed the room in seconds. “Hey—hey, love, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head. Covered your face. You didn’t want him to see. You didn’t want to ruin the moment. You didn’t want to need this as badly as you did.

But he didn’t get frustrated. He didn’t sigh, or say you were being dramatic, or ask if you were hormonal.

He just wrapped his arms around you, warm and firm, and said softly:

“I’ll get you flowers every day if it means you cry like this less.”

You laughed — wet and broken — into his chest.

You’d never been loved like this before.

Not gently.

Not without earning it first.

You try not to talk about your past much. It’s messy. It makes people uncomfortable.

But Lando notices things.

He notices how you flinch a little when he raises his voice — even if it’s just from laughing too loudly.

He notices how you apologize three times for interrupting him, even when you didn’t.

He notices how you never ask him for help, even when you’re clearly overwhelmed.

And worst of all, he notices how surprised you look every time he does something thoughtful.

“Stop acting like I brought you the moon,” he says once, when you gasp at the takeout he brought after your long shift.

You smile tightly. “Sorry. I’m just not used to this.”

“To being fed?”

“To being… seen.”

He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t look away.

Instead, he cups your jaw, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “Then get used to it, love. ‘Cause I’m not going anywhere.”

He starts taking photos of you when you’re not looking.

You notice it one morning, scrolling through his phone while he’s in the shower. A whole album labeled with your initials — filled with candids.

You sipping coffee on the balcony. You in one of his hoodies, asleep on the couch. You laughing at something off-camera, head thrown back, eyes bright.

You look beautiful in all of them.

You don't recognize yourself.

When he comes back in, towel around his shoulders, he sees you looking.

Your voice is small. “You keep pictures of me?”

Lando blinks, confused. “Course I do.”

You set the phone down like it might burn you. “I just… no one’s ever done that before.”

He crosses the room. Presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Then they were idiots.”

One night, weeks later, you break.

Not in the loud, dramatic way. Not like glass shattering. More like a hairline crack that finally gives way under pressure.

You’re lying in bed, curled into his side, his fingers playing absentmindedly with yours. Everything should feel perfect. Safe.

And still, you ask:

“Why do you love me?”

Lando’s hand stills.

You almost wish you could swallow the question back down. But it’s out there now. Ugly and trembling and raw.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “Forget I said anything.”

“No,” he says, firm. “Don’t do that.”

You can’t look at him. “I just don’t get it. I’m a mess. I’m anxious. I second-guess everything. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be—”

“Stop.”

His voice is low, but not angry. Just steady.

He tilts your chin so you have to meet his eyes.

“I don’t love you in spite of those things. I love you because of who you are.”

You blink, throat tight.

“I love that you care too much. That you remember the name of every mechanic on my team. That you leave me little notes when I travel. That you’re still soft after everything life’s thrown at you.” He swallows. “I love you. Full stop. No conditions. No fine print.”

You’re crying again.

This time, you don’t try to hide it.

And when he kisses you, slow and reverent, you let yourself believe — just for a second — that maybe you’re not too hard to love after all.

You stop apologizing so much.

You start texting him first.

You let him buy you flowers without flinching.

You even let him take a photo of you on your bad hair day, after whining for a full ten minutes about how awful you look.

(He posts it anyway — captioned, “Cutest human alive, don’t fight me.”)

And when he tells you he loves you — casually, easily, every day — you finally start saying it back without fear.

Because he never makes you earn it.

Because he says it like it’s your name.

Because he means it.

Later that night, you’re tucked into the passenger seat of Lando’s car, the city lights flickering past like fireflies. His hoodie swallows you whole — sleeves too long, hood up, wrapped around you like a second skin — and your legs are folded beneath you, socked toes pressed to the leather seat.

The radio’s playing softly. Something nostalgic. His hand finds yours without looking.

He does that now — reaches for you without needing to think.

And you let him.

Your fingers settle into the spaces between his, perfectly matched. His thumb rubs gently across your knuckles, slow and soothing. You watch the motion like it might slip away if you blink.

“I think I’m starting to believe you,” you say after a long stretch of silence.

His eyes flick to you, quick and warm. “Believe what?”

“That you love me.”

The smile that blooms across his face isn’t wide or showy. It’s quiet. Soft. Reverent, almost. Like he’s been waiting to hear that from you.

“I’ve never said anything truer,” he murmurs.

You turn your head, studying him in the warm dashboard glow. One hand on the wheel. One hand in yours. The same boy who brings you flowers without a reason. Who kisses your shoulder in passing. Who sees you.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you whisper, voice barely a breath.

Lando squeezes your hand. “You don’t have to do anything, love. You deserve it just by being you.”

You blink fast, throat catching. He doesn’t look away.

“Let me keep showing you, yeah?”

You nod, heart thudding hard. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in your entire life, you believe it.

A/N: i really loved writing this, felt very healing (I need therapy lmao) anyways please send me requests! I love reading yall's ideas! also feel free to ask me any questions if you want hehe :)

[multifandomsofficial]

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.”

[multifandomsofficial]

Keeping it professional || LN4

Babysitter

lando norris x pr manager!reader

summary: After Lando's many escapes his team finally decides to get him a new pr manager or how he calls it a 'babysitter'. A relationship that's meant to be strictly professional but after a night out things happen that aren't to professional anymore

warnings:

masterlist

"Lando, this can't be happening anymore", Zak groaned while the boy put his head on his hands, looking out of the meeting room at the bright blue sky.

A contrast to the cold atmosphere inside the walls of the McLaren motorhome.

His team boss sat on the other side of the small white table. He didn't even notice Zak had started talking again.

"I'm sure you'd just love to see the video once again", he said. Lando sensed the irony in his voice but he chose to ignore it.

Zak picked up the remote on the TV, pressing play.

The flickering lights in the background changed colour every second, in the center of the video was Lando. Drunk of his ass, dancing with some girl whose breasts were almost spilling out of her bra-like top, the skirt ending just under her butt.

That's right were his hands were placed. Rubbing them over the thin material. His head was buried in the blonde girls’ neck. Even on the video you could see him sucking her skin.

Lando moved his lips up to her mouth, all while grabbing her left leg and hooking it around his hip, grinding against the girl.

Zak paused the video.

"This is the 5th time this happened happened in the last 12 days. Your puplic image is in shreds. They are questioning your ability as a driver. They think you're not taking your job seriously", he explained.

"Since Charlotte left, this has been happening rather regularly, so we assumed that it would be best to get you a personal media manager", Zak explained, pointing to the door.

Lando couldn't help but roll his eyes and slump back in his seat. "You gotta be kidding me, I'm not a child", he murmured, crossing his arms. His eyes drifted back outside where the rush of the paddock Saturday took place.

You immediately spotted his child like pose when you entered the room, coming to stand next to his chair.

"This is Y/n Y/l/n. She's just finished University and will be your Social Media Manager. Y/n will accompany you on race weekends, in the paddock, during media hours. And you will check your social media activity with her. Everything you post will go through her first. Every time you go out, you will tell her and for the next two months she will join you", Zak explained causing Lando to scoff.

"So she'll be my babysitter", Lando spoke up, making you glance down at the boy in his blue hoodie.

"Sweetheart, the way you're acting right now indicates that you might actually need a babysitter", you fired back. The driver's head shot up, his eyes looking into yours.

"And it probably would be best for you not to go partying for a little while", you smiled a bittersweet fake smile, clapping his shoulder a few times.

"You can't tell me what to do", Lando protested, frowning at your words. "Oh yes she can", Zak spoke up, making Lando look at him. "You can't be serious, Zak! Come on!!", he called.

His boss simply shook his head and shut off the TV. Lando scoffed, jumping off his chair and storming out of the room.

"You sure you'll be able to handle him?", Zak asked, raising an eyebrow. You watched after the boy who made his way over to the Ferrari motorhome, probably to go and talk to Carlos.

"Oh, trust me. I will", you chuckled.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Norris!", you called, banging heavily on his drivers room door. "You should've been ready 10 minutes ago!!"

You heard the knob turn and a half naked Lando opened the door. His hair messy and a dark purple hickey on his neck. "Lando-honey come back", a high pitched voice giggled.

"You've got to be kidding me", you scoffed, pushing the door wide open to reveal a half naked blonde on Lando's bunk.

"I'm really sorry but you have to leave", you said, picking up the bright red bra and tight white top on the floor before holding it out for the girl to grab.

"And who are you?", she gave you a bitchy look. "You're worst nightmare if you don't get out of here in the next two minutes", you fake smiled, tossing the clothes in her lap.

"Y/n, you can't do this!!", Lando called, shutting the door and hurrying back to you. "Get dressed. Now", you sternly said, crossing your arms and leaning against the white table.

"What are you doing?", he asked, not moving. "Waiting for your guest to leave and for you to get dressed", you explained.

"Viola get dressed", Lando said emotionless, keeping his eyes on you the whole time while grabbing his McLaren hoodie.

"My name is Violetta", the girl bitched back, angrily grabbing her bra and tying it around her breast cage.

"Yeah whatever, just get dressed and get out of here", he annoyingly responded.

You rolled your eyes at his behavior. The girl wobbly stumbled out of Lando's driver room.

"Let's get to the press conference", you said, grabbing Lando's upper arm after he finished getting dressed and dragging him out of the hospitality.

"I can walk myself, you know that", the british driver protested, trying to pull his arm away from you but your grip only tightened. "I prefer you don't. I don't want to find you sucking some blondes' neck between garages", you chuckled humorless.

As you entered the room, you immediately felt multiple pairs of eyes on you. Maybe it was having to do with the fact that you had the McLaren driver tight in your grip. Literally.

You let go of his arm and pushed him towards the couch where Charles and Max were already sitting.

"Whoah, who's she?", Charles chuckled, nodding over to you. Lando rolled his eyes and slumped down between the two boys. "My new babysitter", he grumbled, crossing his arms and stretching his legs away from him.

"McLaren got you a babysitter?", Max laughed and slapped his friends shoulder. "Because of your escapades?", Charles added. Lando nodded.

"They want her to keep track of me everywhere I go. Paddock, Social Media even my fucking free time", Lando complained. "She will join me every time I go out for the next two months", he added with a fake sweet smile. "Oh and then she decided I'm not allowed to go out for a while."

Max and Charles couldn't help but laugh. "She's practically got you in the palm of her hand", Max said, finding the whole situation immensely funny.

Lando rammed his elbow in his friends' side.

"She's hot", Charles suddenly said. His eyes have been following you ever since you entered the room.

Lando turned his hand to his left. "Uh, no?", he replied, acting digusted at the fact his friend even suggested that.

"She really is", Max added, not helping Lando in the slightest. "Back off, you have girlfriends", Lando called, slapping both of their heads.

The boys simply laughed and settled back into the white couch.

Lando focused his eyes on you, scanning you from head to toe. You had long brunette hair that stopped just on your waist and piercing green eyes. You wore the typical orange McLaren shirt along with some gray dress pants.

You were talking to someone from Ferrari that Lando didn't recognize. The woman made you laugh and Lando noticed the dimples you got when you did.

Maybe Charles and Max were right, you were kinda hot- No! You weren't!

He shook his head as to shake off the disgusting thought that crossed his mind and focused on the first interviewer.

Twitter

mclarenlove: Who’s the girl who’s been accompanying Lando all weekend??

replies:

landoxmclaren: Idkkkk maybe someone new on the team??

norris4life: Apparently he’s his new pr manager…

mclarenlove: Mclaren got him a new pr manager bc of his questionable “activities” outside of racing?

norris4life: Seems like, yeah

Taglist

[multifandomsofficial]

“i can fix her, i can fix him, i can fix them”

i think we need to work on you first.

[multifandomsofficial]

[multifandomsofficial]

older men do it better

[multifandomsofficial]

I’m so sad… time for an x reader fan fiction

[multifandomsofficial]

[multifandomsofficial]

WEDDING RING ~ F1 TEXTS

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

✮ summary: you forgot your wedding ring at home

✮ starring: max verstappen, charles leclerc, carlos sainz jr., sebastian vettel, lando norris, oscar piastri

✮ warnings: none, maybe slightly angst but nothing serious

✮ a/n: another texts have arrived! enjoy🫶🏻

🪐requests are open🪐

🚨ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE🚨

@emmyf1 - please don’t copy or rewrite my works on any other app, this is my original work

[multifandomsofficial]

Bucky gets drafted I

summary: what if bucky was never taken from hydra? What if through all his ptsd, Bucky had a wife and two kids to come back to. 

wc: 2259

warnings: talk of war?

-

February 1942

The whirring of the machinery is heard throughout the brownstone. It’s only twelve, but everyone has been fed and you need to finish this before Sunday. A beautiful red smock dress to wear with black mary janes and ruffle socks. 

You had to, your sweet Adelaide had pleaded with you for a new dress. Not in an ungrateful manner, no, but this Sunday the Children’s choir would sing for everyone. So here you are, focused, pushing through the red cotton as the matching thread pierces through. 

Bucky is on child duty. Seven-year-old Adelaide practices her reading, ever the perfect girl, sitting prim on the floor, legs out and a book between. Ten-month-old Georgie (George), named after the late George Barnes, plays with his wooden blocks next to his sister. Stacks them, then crashes them down. 

Bucky is sat up at the end of the couch, ears pierced to the radio. The list of rationing only grew, the fear for his family only grew, many women were working now, volunteering their time away from their families. It seems things are only getting worse before they get better. 

He sighs, deflating into the sofa at what he’s hearing. 

“Daddy?” a voice snaps him out. 

“Hm?” he answers.

“What is this word?” Adelaide points at her book, as if he could see a thing. So he waves her over and when she’s close, sits her on his leg. 

“What word, Addie?” he asks and she points to the word again.  “Sound it out with me, ‘skw-er-l’” 

She tries and tries, and within those attempts James is there to guide her along, encouraging her to try again when she doesn’t get it right.

His bright spark he likes to call her at times. She’s intuitive and loves to learn. Every night, without fail, either him or y/n were meant to quiz her on at least ten words, like a spelling bee. If there was room to ask why, she would.

A rap is heard on the door. 

“Who’s that?” Addie asks. The attention of Georgie is also grabbed as he looks up at his father with an open mouth and a wood block in hand. 

“I’ll go find out, look after your brother and keep practicing” he kisses the side of her head, before setting her beside him, and walking straight to the door. 

…

“James Buchanan Barnes?” is the first thing Bucky hears from a pristine young-man standing on his welcome mat. A pressed black dress shirt, green tailored pants, a green tie, with shining wing tipped black shoes, and a side cap dresses up the man. 

The man’s eyes are void, almost sad (if he could guess) and he has to stop himself from looking at the gash on his cheek. 

“Yes."

An envelope is thrusted towards him and his heart drops, he could hear it shatter from a mile away. His ma wouldn’t take well to this, his sister wouldn’t, Steve definitely wouldn't, weeks without seeing his kid’s bright face would kill him. Y/n. 

“What is this?” he looks down at the letter accusingly, keeping his trembling hands by his side. 

“Mr. Barnes” The man persists, his voice softer it seems, as if he gives his condolences. 

“Thank you” Bucky has no choice but to smile and take the letter from the man’s outstretched hand. 

The man gives a curt nod in response and walks away, to hover a stormy cloud over someone else’s bright day it seems. It seems the list can only grow larger, will it ever end? He shuts the door and stares down at the envelope in his hands. His name and the address of their home is written neatly in the middle. 

He rips the bandage off his bruise. Ripping into the envelope until the letter is open and held between his hands, and his eyes fly over the ink. 

To, James Buchanan Barnes

notified that you been selected…army

report to the Local Board named above at 107th Infantry Regiment.

10:00 am on the 26 day of February, 1942. 

Only a week. 

“Daddy!” Addy calls for him impatiently. 

“One- one second, sweet girl. Just need to talk your ma for a split” he shouts back, before hearing her dramatic sigh in response. 

He strides to the stark white door of her sewing room, knocks once to get her attention then walks in. His wife is sitting at her sewing table, whose eyebrows are knit and her bottom lip rolled in. Just like his sweet Addie. Unlike many men, James had no problem letting everyone know both their kiddos got their brightness from Y/n. 

“Honey,” Bucky calls out, fingers fiddling with the papers. 

“Yes? I’m almost done, honey, do the kids need anything?” she glances up swiftly, then goes back to her work. 

“I just need to talk to you for a quick second, if that’s alright.” 

She removes her hand from the crank of the sewing machine. Noticing the worry clouding her husband's features. The swish of her polka dotted, a-line dress fills the air.  

Her hand clutches the lapel of his striped suit, while the other splays against his forehead, “What’s wrong, honey, are you out of sorts?” His skin felt normal and his eyes weren’t the prickly pink they usually were when he was sick. 

“No, no, I’m solid.”

At least he hopes he would be, he thinks to himself. Removing her hand from his forehead and kissing her knuckles gently. He can subconsciously feel the heat rising in her cheeks, watching her eyes look at anywhere but him. 

Time to rip off the second bandage. He raises the letter between the two of you. She stops and stares intently at the piece of paper and the envelope next to it. 

“What is this?” she asks, staring into his sky-blue eyes. 

Bucky doesn’t need to say anything, his softening eyes tell her everything she needs to know. Bucky couldn’t fool the young man at his step, and there was no way Y/n would be able to fool Bucky. 

“I leave in a week”

She lets out a breath, before she’s stepping away. One hand splays over her waist while the other presses a hand to her throat. Her head shakes side to side as tears pool in her eyes. She shouldn’t be surprised, Bucky is perfect in every way. Healthy in every way, of course he would be drafted. They both knew this, when was the only question that dangled in front of their faces.

“It’ll be okay. Doll, look at me” he clasps your flushed face tilting it up. 

“Oh, Bucky this is-- this is--” her words break up and before she knows it she’s broken into an uncontrollable sob, shoulders bobbing and an unbroken stream falls down her face. 

He hushes you, bringing you to his chest as his hands run up and down your back. 

“You can’t leave me, us… Trash it!” you pull away, eyes wide and tinted. “They’ll never know, Bucky”

“Honey, you’re talking junk, you know that can’t happen.” he coos, his palms take her face once again, thumbs running circles on her cheeks. 

“Please.” 

She wasn’t in her right mind is the only excuse she can think of. Her mind is running a mile a minute with a thousand gory scenarios, things she’s only read about and heard about. She didn’t want any of that for Bucky. 

“It’ll be okay, I’ll be okay and i’ll come to the three of you in one piece” he crouches down slightly, so you’re at the same eye level “I promise” he speaks softly. 

“You can’t promise something like that”

“I can and I will” he brings you into his chest, kissing the top of your head. 

“Would you be dismayed if I proposed that you break a leg? You’d still be an honorable man in my eyes” she says, voice muffled against his dress shirt. 

“It’ll be okay, honey, I promise” he answers with a breathy chuckle at the end. 

-

That night he breaks the news to Addie. She tries to stay strong at first, only humming in response with a tight smile on her face before tears run down her face silently. He consoles her as much as he can. Reassuring her that he would be alright, that everything would be alright. At some point this would all end and she’d have him back in one piece. And it repeats itself twice as he consoles his mother and sister. 

Telling Steve was one of the easiest bandages, no sticky residue was left behind.. He, of course, took in the slight disappointment on Steve’s face. Steve’s been trying like hell to get enlisted, the only thing holding him back was the long list of health issues and his small stature. 

Never the matter, he’s proud of Bucky. He knows his sharp mind will keep him safe. He’ll miss him while he’s gone and he’s promised to keep an eye on his favorite three while they’re gone. As long as he’s known Bucky, never in a million years did he see him falling in love and settling down with anyone.

“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” Bucky points a playful accusatory finger towards Steve.

Steve only chuckles breathily before he’s slammed into Bucky’s chest. 

-

The week whirls by, as if Y/n’s prayers for the days to slow down even for just a second aren't heard. Just three days ago Bucky stopped by the enlistment depot to get everything he needs, including his uniform. 

Two days ago, after getting home from work, Bucky had taken a quick nap in the living room. George laid on his chest, his chubby cheeks squished against the breast of his coat; and his tiny fist clasped around a lock of Bucky’s hair. On the other side of Bucky, lays Adelaide, who snuggles up to his side while she watches the television. 

Adelaide has stuck to her father’s side like glue this past week. 

You stood by and watched the three silently, like a shadow, knowing days like this were slowly dissipating until his departure. 

His last day at home, Bucky takes his family to Coney Island, their favorite place. Bucky doesn’t let money hold him back as he throws it all away to put a smile on his kid’s faces. He buys them as many tickets as they need, gets them whatever they want to eat, and wins them as many stuffed animals as he can-- sending a wink to his wife as he throws the rings onto the milk bottles. Knowing how bittersweet this moment was, their first date was Coney Island, and now he’s winning her a prize, like all those years ago, except he’s going off to war. 

Presently, the both of you lay in your dimly luminated bedroom. Bucky has just read Adelaide, her last bedtime story for an unknown time, he’s made it extra special by doing a voice for every character and acoustic effects at every scene. 

Your head is laid in the crook of his neck, and a hand runs up and around his toned chest. You’re winded within his arms, his fingers running circles around your shoulder. 

At the moment all you wanted was to sink into him like the sugar cubes in his coffee. You wanted to keep everything about him in eidetic memory. 

The slope and flat bridge of his nose, his startlingly-intense blue eyes that always looked at you with adoration, his always perfectly gelled hair, and his heart of gold that fills his family with love (something most of your friends couldn’t say.) 

Bucky did the same, engraving everything from your scent to the plush of your skin to his mind. 

A moment passes before you speak up. 

“I don’t know what to say, and I know i’ll regret it later”

“You don’t gotta say anything, just promise you’ll take care of yourself and the kids, maybe visit Steve once in a while or invite him to dinner. Just make sure he’s alright?”

You nod in agreement. 

The way Bucky acts on his overcome emotions is automatic. He pulls you in for a searing kiss, his hands roaming all over your body as if it were braille. Your hands rest on his broad shoulders, squeezing them when Bucky pulls away from your lips to your neck. 

The night is full of heavy, panting breaths and scorching, gently touches. 

When Bucky does that trick you love so much, you have to muffle yourself in your pillow. 

The night is filled with sugared words from Bucky. As he calls you his sweet girl, kisses you everywhere he can, and drains you with every push of his hips. 

-

Afterwards, the both of you are slicked in sweat. You both lay on your sides, facing each other, and holding onto each other. Time seems endless in his embrace. 

“J-James” 

Everything overcomes you within minutes, as you cover your face. It’s wretched and draining as the mountain collapses. It was happening. He would be leaving in just a few hours, and there was nothing she could do about it. 

Bucky pulls your head into his chest swiftly, shushing you as he cradles the back of your head. Kissing the top of your head in comfort. 

“You-- You have to p-promise to come back safely.” You pull away from his chest, eyes glazed over in tears. 

“Baby, you know I can’t promise that. All I can tell you is that I’ll try my best. I promise I'll try my best.” 

-

tysm for reading!! I missed writing and can't wait to tell this story <3

pls don't forget to like & reblog

[multifandomsofficial]

Hi I love ur girl dad lando fics sm they're adorable I was wondering if u could write smth where lando and readers girls invite their friends for a sleepover (like a crossover with carlos,charles, Oscar and max F's kids) cuz they're besties and reader and lando putting in lots of effort for the girls and making it a fun time for them and overall fluff and comedy pls xx

Hope u have a grt day and feel free to ignore this request if u don't want to write it xx 🫶🏼

so so sorry this took me so long to get around to, but thank you for your request! as a quick refresher since it's been ages since i've written for this little universe, we've got estelle and delilah norris, adrien leclerc, teo sainz, maeve and clara piastri, and some new additions—luca and lina fewtrell! hope you enjoy x

feel free to request more :)

“If someone told me I'd be in my thirties blowing up air mattresses for a bunch of children instead of going for a night out, I’d call them mental.” 

“And yet, here you are.” 

Here Lando is indeed, sitting in the middle of the living room floor, blowing up the third of eight child sized air mattresses for the girls’ sleepover tonight. Mattresses one and two have been cast off to the side, ready to go. You’re watching him moan and groan from the kitchen while you prep snacks and drinks for the kids. 

Estelle and Delilah had begged you to have a sleepover with their friends this weekend, and with all of them actually in Monaco for once, how could you refuse? 

“Y’know, you’re making terrible time on those mattresses,” You tease, turning towards the fridge to grab those little smoothie drinks the girls love. You’re all stocked up on their favorite foods, you’ve got their favorite movies queued on the television, and you’re pretty much prepared for anything a group of excited kids would want. 

All you want is for everything to go well tonight, because your girls are your world. 

You’re swept off your feet before you can throw another smart remark Lando’s way, drawn into his chest as his fingers dig into your sides, making you nearly shriek with laughter. You manage to push him away, but not before he’s rendered you breathless with his tickling. 

“When are all the little rascals coming over?” 

You slide your hands up his chest to link around the back of his neck, fingers toying with the curls at his nape. “Should be soon. Carlos is picking up Adrien on his way to bring Teo here, Lily and Oscar are dropping off the twins after gymnastics, and Pietra said she’ll be sending Max over with Luca and Lina pretty soon.” 

“Pietra’s not coming round?” 

“Pietra’s eight months pregnant on bed rest, my love. Have you forgotten, or has all that blowing made you lightheaded?” 

Lando rolls his eyes, squeezing your hip. “Ha ha, very funny, you.” 

“You love me.” 

“Duh. Wouldn’t have let you rope me into this circus otherwise,” He teases. 

“Don’t act like it hasn’t been your life’s dream to host a sleepover with eight kids hopped up on sugar and sweets.” 

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

There’s an undertone there, something more serious in his words that makes you smile warmly.

Lando has always been a family guy. His loved ones are his world, and the little family you’ve been able to create with each other despite all the challenges is one of the few things that take precedence over racing. You still remember the day you told him you were pregnant with Estelle. How he’d gone completely misty eyed and nearly tackled you in a hug before you’d even finished uttering the words. 

He’s told you before, getting to be a father, getting to have a family, it’s a gift he’d never be able to thank you enough for. 

You pull him in closer to kiss him, taking advantage of the girls being busy in their room to have a little time alone to love on your husband. 

“Daddy!!!” Estelle’s loud shriek has you both pulling away from each other in a snap. Lando deflates against you, groaning quietly. 

“Yes, lovebug?” He calls, angling his head towards the direction of her voice. 

“I can’t find my race car pajamas!” 

“That’s ‘cause they’re in the laundry! You got ice cream on them last night, remember?” 

You dig a sharp elbow into Lando’s side, eliciting a high pitched yelp and an incredulous look aimed your way. You raise a brow at your husband. “You gave them ice cream last night?” 

“Shit. Erm, no, ‘course I didn’t,” He says unconvincingly, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t do that, would I? Definitely did not give them—”

“Daddy!” Estelle screeches again, the end of the word long and drawn out. 

“Wow, would you listen to that? I reckon I should go see what I can do for that darling daughter of ours!” He’s wriggled himself free before you can blink, pressing the hastiest of pecks to the corner of your mouth quickly before speeding off to Estelle’s rescue (and away from the trouble he’d been about to get in). 

You laugh and shake your head, because he's just the same as when you’d first had the privilege of loving him all those years ago. He was younger then, more boyish, maybe even a little naive, but that was who you fell in love with. In some ways, he's the same. In other ways, he's grown tenfold. 

Either way, changed or not, you've loved him all this time and will continue to, even after you inevitably become old and grey together. It won't happen for a long time, but you're looking forward to growing old with Lando. 

—

“My back is killing me,” He grumbles later in the night, as he pads gingerly across the room over to his side of the bed. It’s nearly midnight and all the kids had gone off to bed a few hours ago after a fully action packed evening, so now it’s your turn to wind down. 

The days when you’d stumble home hand in hand, drunk and giggling in the wee hours of the morning are nothing but a distant memory. Now, you can barely stay up past twelve most nights. Right now, you’re both exhausted. But the kids had a blast, and that makes everything worth it. 

You giggle at his over exaggerated steps. “C’mere, I’ll massage you.” That makes him perk up, smirking at you like the massage will lead to other things. “Don’t even think about it, mister. Try again another day when we’re not hosting all of our friends’ kids.” 

“Am I able to get that rain check in writing, or…”

“Uncle Lando?” A small voice from the hallway draws both of your attention. Max’s son, Luca, is peering at the two of you, half shrouded in the darkness of the hallway. 

“Luca! What’re you doing up, buddy?” Lando asks, beckoning him into the room. The boy pads in hesitantly, looking worried.

You pat the covers as a sign for him to take a seat and he does, rubbing at his shoulder the same way his dad always does when something is bothering him. Sometimes you can’t believe how similar Luca is to Max. 

“I couldn’t—I can’t sleep,” He mumbles, little brows furrowed. “I miss my mum.” 

“Oh, honey,” You soothe, scooting closer to put your hand over his smaller one. The seven year old’s bottom lip trembles a touch. 

“You know, there was one time your dad and I had to stay in the same hotel room, and he couldn't sleep either because he missed your mum,” Lando mentions, voice light, like he's recalling something casual. 

“You and dad had a sleepover?” 

Lando looks very much like he wants to explain that no, he and Max, two grown men, did not have a sleepover, but at your subtle shake of the head, doesn't. He nods instead, patting the boy on the back. “Yeah, mate, we had a sleepover. Anyways, your dad just couldn’t fall asleep for hours, and d’you wanna know what eventually did help him?” 

“What, Uncle Lando?” 

“We gave your mum a call, and they talked for a bit, and afterwards, he was able to fall asleep right quick. Shall we do that? Give your parents a ring?” 

Luca nods quickly, sniffling. Lando smiles warmly as he reaches over to swipe his phone off the bedside table. You watch as he shows the boy what to do instead of just ringing Max himself. 

Suddenly you're hit with an overwhelming feeling of what Lando would be like if the two of you ever had a son. You’d had the conversation many times before, whether or not you wanted to have a third child. The timing had just never been right. 

Raising two kids under two whilst Lando was away racing most of the time had been rough enough, but the girls were nearly eight now. And sure, his career is still going strong at the moment, but you've got years of experience under your belt now. 

You wouldn't say no to another kid if Lando felt the same way, especially if it ended up being a boy. Make no mistake, you were a girl mom through and through, but the thought of having a little mini Lando running around with his big sisters made your heart swell.

“Mate, shouldn’t you be—Luca! Hey, big guy!” Max answers on the third ring, teasing demeanor morphing straight into parental as soon as he catches a glimpse of his son on the other side of the screen rather than Lando. “What’s up? You having fun with your friends?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Um, is…” Luca hesitates, casting a nervous glance at Lando, who only nods encouragingly. It seems to help, because he turns his attention back, sounding much more firm when he speaks again. “Can I talk to mum?” 

“Can you talk to mum? Of course you can! Let me go find her. You know your mum, always wandering around these days,” Max jokes, winking. Luca giggles quietly. He already looks like he's feeling much better. “Oi, P! There’s someone special who wants to talk to you.” 

Luca chats with Pietra for a little bit, and you can tell just how much that little boy loves and adores his mother. He’s beaming happily when the call ends, a far cry from the timidness he’d come in with earlier. 

“All good now, mate? You’ll try and get some sleep tonight?” Lando asks, clapping Luca on the shoulder gently. 

“Yep! Thanks, Uncle Lando!” He runs off without another word after that. 

“Well, I think we handled that pretty well, don’t you think?” Lando hums, tossing his phone back on the bedside table. “Hello? Darling?” 

“What would you think about having another baby?” You blurt. 

“Another—babe, what? Where is this coming from?” He splutters, looking utterly bewildered. His eyes go wide a split second later. “Wait, you’re not—are you?” 

“No, no, I’m not—I just—fuck, I’m sorry. I didn't mean to ask so bluntly like that, I was trying to ease into the conversation.” 

“Oh. Okay. That’s…yeah. Sorry, you just caught me off guard is all.” He scrubs a hand over his face.  “I didn’t know you were thinking about it. Last I recall we were on the same page about stopping at two. Did something change, or…?” 

“I don’t know. I guess I was just thinking about, y’know, what if we wind up having a boy? A mini Lando, running around with his big sisters one day?” 

Lando opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, then snaps it shut before inhaling a sharp breath and trying again. “I love our little family more than anything.” 

“I do too.”

“Are we really ready to have three kids?” 

“I think we are. We managed eight of them pretty well tonight.” You shrug, sliding a reassuring hand over Lando’s. “Plus, there’s more than enough love to go around, don’t you think?” 

That seems to solidify the decision, because he brings your joined hands up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “We got this. Let’s have another baby!” 

[multifandomsofficial]

Ok so fic request: you are in town and kindly help a mom who is trying to wrangle all her kids while doing errands by holding her baby girl and Billy is just like 😍watching you with the baby

౨ৎ꣑ৎbilly sees you helping a mother౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x billy the kid thank you @phantomamour for proofing <3

“I’ll be right back,” Billy promised you, slipping a coin into your hand and kissing your hairline. “Go get yourself somethin’, sweetheart. I can meet you at the general store.” You’d mentioned you wanted some new ribbons last night.

You smiled bright like sunshine. “Thank you.” With a quick kiss to his cheek, you meandered off in the direction of the store. He didn’t tear his eyes away from you until you were safely inside. A man could never be too careful, especially when it was him. Billy always did his best to shield you from the inevitable scrutiny that came from being seen with an outlaw in such a way. You were the last person on this earth who deserved it. The only part you seemed to understand was that people didn’t like Billy, and it made you sad enough as it was. 

Even now he’d have liked to accompany you into the store but he was well aware of how having him next to you made you look. In the time he’d been in trouble with the law, he’d learned to try not to care what anybody thought of him, but it was different when it came to you. The hardened lessons of the world hadn’t knocked you off your feet like they had him, and he’d do anything to make sure they never would. 

The presence of you in his life was like a breath of fresh air in a smoke-filled house. You reached into the dark, gunpowder riddled cavern of him and pulled out things that were soft and safe, things that hadn’t been held in a long time. In return he had a strong desire to protect you, as you were made of nothing but those things. Protection included understanding that even though he’d left his old life behind to try and mold himself back into an honest man, there were still ripples from the stones he’d cast into the lake of his life. 

He concluded his business rather quickly but still let you be for a little while, knowing you were safe where you were. Billy took his time walking back, stopping at the hitching station to check on his horse and feed him a carrot or two. He caught a glimpse of you in the window when he looked over to the general store like a vision from heaven. You were smiling, saying something to someone he couldn’t see. 

Before Billy knew it his feet were moving, unable to resist having you near for more than a few minutes. The bell over the door jingled cheerfully as he walked in, craning his neck to locate you. He could hear your voice but it was muffled by the sound of a crying baby somewhere nearby. Poking his head around the corner, Billy found both you and the baby, which was in the arms of its mother, arms flailing as she spoke to you.

You said something he couldn’t hear, holding your arms out. The mother deposited the baby into them, her expression relieved. She took the hands of her other two children and walked away, going to look at the bolts of fabric nearby. He waited until her back was turned to walk to you. The baby was quieting as you rocked it gently, humming softly and swaying back and forth. When you saw him you smiled. “Hello.”

“Sweetheart,” he greeted, kissing the top of your head and clasping your waist in one hand. “Who’s this?”

“Ellie,” you said, leaning into his side. “I’m just watching her while her mama measures some fabric. She looked a little too overwhelmed.” When the baby cooed, you giggled, shifting her into one arm and holding out your finger for her to grab. “And this little one’s a real sweetheart.”

The look in your eyes turned Billy into mush. Seeing you with a baby in your arms left him starry eyed, and he had the sudden urge to seize you and take you home this instant to make a little one of your own. Thinking of you as the mother to his child only heightened your beauty. 

Of course he’d imagined it before, but he’d not thought it would ever be possible. A family had never been something safe for him to pursue. Besides, he wondered what child could ever be proud to have him as a father. Now the answer was staring right at him. One who had you as a mother.

Ellie waved her arm and you tapped her nose lightly, an adorable laugh bubbling out of her. “You’re such a cutie, huh? You’d better be this good for your mama when she comes back, m’kay?”

He felt faint. The closest feeling he could compare it to was when he was in a fight and all it came down to was survival. Instincts were kicking in and he had to restrain himself. You were holding someone else’s baby. It wouldn’t be wise for him to sweep you off your feet just yet.

The woman bustled over after a few minutes, looking relieved. “Thank you so much again.” She reached for her baby and you handed her over carefully. “I don’t know what I would’ve done withou-” When she noticed Billy, her eyes widened and she took a step back. 

You didn’t seen to notice, taking his arm and resting your head on his shoulder. He felt stiff, aware that the last thing this woman wanted was for her baby to be close to the likes of him. There was always a tension when someone recognized him, and he hated when you were near it. He was about to walk away when your hand began to run up and down his arm. Billy’s shoulders relaxed, and he shifted his gaze from the horrified woman to you and your sweet smile. 

“It was no problem,” you assured her, squeezing his elbow. “She’s just darling.”

The woman looked from you to him, her shock seeming to fade. “Ah…thank you.” One of her other children began to tug on her hand, and she gave you a quick smile before turning away.

Your smile was contagious as you looked up at him, and he wrapped his arm around your waist, trying to ignore the feeling filling his chest like a cloud. “I got some new ribbons.” He let you lead the way outside, and when you stopped at his horse, looking up at him with wide eyes, his breath was nearly stolen. “D’you think we’ll have one someday?”

“Hm?” His head was hazy and he was glad his horse knew the way home, or else he didn’t think he’d be able to get there. 

You smiled softly, reaching down for his hand and squeezing it. “A baby. Someday.”

“Yeah,” he breathed without thinking. “Yeah, sweetheart, I think so.”

Reaching up, you wrapped your arms around his neck and his mind’s eye was flooded with the image of you, carrying his child. There was a time when he could have lived on these fantasies alone, but they were hard to ignore when he had you right here in his arms. You pressed your face to him, and he held you for a moment, relishing it.

The imaginings were thickening, and his hold on you tightened. “Wanna go home?” He was itching to kiss you in a way that wasn’t appropriate for public.

Your smile was knowing. He couldn’t contain his own as you reached up to touch your lips to his briefly. “Yes. I think so.”

[multifandomsofficial]

NO I’M NOT IN LOVE.

“Every friend of mine, I told them the same, no I’m not in love.” — You and Lando insisted it was just friendship, nothing more. But your friends saw the truth. Then came the vacation, and suddenly, denying it wasn’t so easy anymore. Maybe they had been right all along.

pairing. Lando Norris x fem! reader.

warnings. fluff, teasing, 8k+ words, dual pov (once), friends to lovers, mutual pining, max f. and ria being menaces, idiots in love, partying, drinking, part of 800 event, based on this request, thank you!!

music. No I’m not in love by Tate Mcrae // Better Off (Alone, Pt. lll) by Alan Walker.

800 event. // event masterlist.

BEING PART OF LANDO’S INNER CIRCLE wasn’t something you had planned, wasn’t something you had expected, but somehow, it had become one of the best parts of your life. Ria had dragged you into it, nudging you into their world with effortless ease, like she had always known you would fit. And maybe she had been right.

At first, it felt foreign, intimidating even, like stepping into a world already so tightly woven that you weren’t sure there was space for you. But then, the late-night talks, the inside jokes, the endless teasing—it all became natural. Slowly but surely, you weren’t just with them; you were one of them.

You attended races together, voices blending into the roar of the crowd, your energy infectious, your excitement untamed. Every podium, every heartbreak, every chaotic moment was felt together—as a unit, as a family. You weren’t just cheering for Lando, you were part of his support, a fixture in the world that had built itself around him.

Quadrant became part of it, too—ridiculous challenges, late-night streams, moments that turned into memories before you even had time to realize it. You had found something rare in them, something that made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t before.

And the fans? They loved you.

Your group—Lando’s group—became something bigger, something people admired, something people wanted to be a part of. You were favorites, the kind of people who lit up a space simply by being in it.

At first, you had convinced yourself that you didn’t have a type—that attraction wasn’t something you could define or categorize, that it wasn’t bound by a checklist of qualities or features. You had always believed that connections happened naturally, without logic, without reason, simply falling into place without needing to be explained. But then there was Lando.

Lando, who was rich—twice. It wasn’t just about the money, though people always seemed to mention it, but rather the way he carried himself, the way he navigated life with a confidence that was both effortless and earned. There was something magnetic about the way he stepped into a room, how he spoke, how he laughed, how he had the ability to turn the most mundane moments into something that felt special, memorable.

Lando, who was funny in a way that made people want to be around him. It wasn’t forced, wasn’t rehearsed—it was natural. It came in the teasing comments, the clever remarks, the way he knew exactly how to lift the mood when things felt tense. He knew how to make you laugh when you needed it the most, and somehow, no matter how chaotic he was, you had never grown tired of it.

And Lando, who had always been there. Lingering in the corner of your life, threading himself into moments that should’ve been insignificant but somehow never were. The way his presence was a constant, never overwhelming, never demanding, but always present. You never questioned it, never considered that maybe, just maybe, it meant something more.

There had always been something between you—subtle, undeniable, existing just beneath the surface, refusing to be named outright. Sometimes it was the way his eyes lingered a little too long when he looked at you, or the way his body naturally leaned closer whenever you were talking. Other times, it was in the quiet moments, when neither of you said anything, but the silence held an understanding you couldn’t quite put into words.

And yet, no matter how many moments hinted at something more, no matter how many lingering glances or stolen seconds stretched between you, you had always agreed—always insisted—that you were just friends.

Even if sometimes, it didn’t feel like that at all.

So the invitation came casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world, like it was something you were meant to say yes to. Lando had leaned against the wall, arms crossed, that easy, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Ibiza. Summer break. You in?”

And honestly, how could you say no?

The thought of sun-drenched beaches, late-night laughter, music pulsing through warm summer air—it was impossible to resist. But more than that, it was him. It was the group. It was the feeling of belonging, of being part of something bigger than just yourself.

So you didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even try to rationalize it.

You smiled, shaking your head slightly at how effortlessly he made it sound. “Yeah. I’m in.”

Lando grinned, satisfied, because maybe—just maybe—he already knew you’d say yes.

───

The sun was high in the sky, casting golden streaks over the beach, the sound of waves crashing in the distance blending perfectly with the hum of laughter and music. It was the definition of a perfect summer—warm air, cold drinks, good company. You, Ria, Lando, and Max sprawled across the massive deckchair under the shade of the umbrella, bodies relaxed, conversations lazy, time slowing down in the best way.

Lando lay beside you, stretched out, limbs taking up far too much space, his knee brushing against yours every so often—a quiet, unspoken kind of closeness that neither of you seemed to mind.

“This is so boring,” he groaned, turning his head toward you, his eyes squinting slightly against the sunlight.

You rolled your eyes, not even surprised. “I need to tan,” you argued, shifting slightly as if to prove your point. Of course he would complain. He couldn’t sit still for more than five minutes without looking for something to do, something chaotic to jump into.

Lando scoffed, stretching out his legs, letting his head fall back against the cushion. “Do you know you can get cancer from tanning?”

Your eyebrows raised slightly. Wow. He was actually pulling out facts? You weren’t sure whether to be impressed or annoyed by his sudden concern.

“Not when you use SPF, idiot,” you laughed, nudging his leg slightly with your own.

Max had been the first to stand, stretching lazily, his movements slow and deliberate, like he was only leaving because he had run out of patience rather than genuine excitement.

“I’m going to the water,” he muttered, shaking off the last remnants of comfort before heading toward the shore.

Ria didn’t hesitate to follow, already tugging her sunglasses off as she moved. And of course, Lando was right behind them. The three of them couldn’t sit still for long, always itching to do something, always needing movement, excitement, a reason to cause trouble.

But you? You were perfectly fine where you were—legs stretched, cold drink beside you, the breeze just strong enough to keep the heat from overwhelming.

“I’ll stay here,” you told them with a soft smile, adjusting your sunglasses, letting yourself settle deeper into the cushion.

Max and Ria barely acknowledged your response, too caught up in the pull of the waves, but Lando hesitated, his shadow stretching over you, blocking the sun like an intentional challenge. He stood there, arms crossed, amusement tugging at the corner of his lips, his presence suddenly too noticeable.

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Move, asshole,” you groaned, reaching up to take off your sunglasses so you could properly glare at him.

But the second your eyes met his, your thoughts stalled.

God.

The sunlight caught in his damp curls, highlighting the golden streaks woven naturally into the brown, making them look even messier than usual. His skin was sunkissed, toned, muscles flexing ever so slightly as he shifted his stance. And the way he was looking at you? Like he had already decided something, like you had no real choice in whatever was about to happen next.

“Nuh uh,” he murmured, his voice low, teasing, just a little rough from the heat.

And then, without warning, his arms were around you.

Your breath hitched as you were suddenly off the ground, lifted effortlessly into his arms like you weighed nothing, like gravity didn’t apply to you in his hands.

Your stomach flipped, pulse hammering against your ribs, as your fingers instinctively gripped at his shoulders, wide-eyed, half-shocked, half-infuriated at the audacity.

Wow. That was attractive.

“What are you doing?” you demanded, though your voice lacked any real bite, because you knew. You already knew.

Lando’s grin widened, smug, his grip firm, steady, strong enough to make your pulse skip yet again.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he teased, taking one slow, deliberate step towards the water.

Lando’s steps grew quicker, his grip firm, his laughter mixing with yours as the inevitability of your fate became very clear. The water loomed closer, waves lapping against the shore, sparkling under the bright summer sun. The scent of salt clung to the air, carried by the gentle breeze, cooling your skin even as your pulse quickened. He was determined—too determined—eyes glinting with mischief, a playful kind of chaos wrapped around his every movement.

“Oh my God, Lando, no—” you shouted, your voice laced with amusement despite the urgency, laughter bubbling past your words as you struggled in his hold. You weren’t really trying to break free—part of you knew it was useless—but the anticipation, the excitement, made every second feel stretched, every heartbeat louder, every breath caught somewhere between thrill and frustration.

“Oh my God, Lando, yes,” he mocked, voice dripping with teasing, his grin wide, triumphant, fully enjoying your impending downfall. His feet met the cool waves, sending small ripples through the water, the sand shifting beneath him as he moved forward. He was completely unaffected, entirely confident, enjoying the moment far too much for your comfort.

“Put me down!” you demanded, the words escaping between breathless laughs, your fingers curling around his shoulders, gripping tighter, as if holding onto him would somehow change the outcome.

But before you could plead further—before you could even brace yourself—he threw you in.

The water consumed you instantly, cold and refreshing, wrapping around you in a shocking contrast to the warmth of the sun. The waves pulled at your limbs, weightless for a second before you resurfaced, gasping, blinking rapidly as droplets clung to your lashes, your hair slicked back, your body drenched from head to toe.

Lando stood just a few feet away, hands on his hips, looking absurdly pleased with himself.

“That was unnecessary,” you huffed, pushing wet strands from your face, sending a small splash his way for good measure.

He merely shrugged, green eyes shining, laughter still lingering on his lips. “Nah, that was perfect.”

Ria and Max were laughing behind him, enjoying the spectacle as much as he did, and despite yourself—despite the entire situation—you couldn’t help but laugh, too.

Lando barely flinched at the first splash, his smirk growing as he dodged your attempts to soak him further. But you weren’t done—you wanted revenge, and you weren’t going to let him get away unscathed.

Laughing, you moved closer, water sloshing against your legs as you sent another wave of splashes towards him, determined to push him deeper into the ocean. He yelped slightly when you caught him off guard, wiping droplets from his face, his curls dripping, his grin stretching even wider.

“Oh, so that’s how we’re playing it?” he challenged, stepping back as you lunged forwards, pushing at his chest, trying to force him into deeper waters.

“Yes,” you declared, hands pressing against him as you fought the resistance.

But Lando was quick—too quick.

Before you could celebrate your tiny victory, he grabbed your wrists, spinning you effortlessly, switching the advantage so you were the one struggling to stay upright.

“Not so fast,” he teased, pulling you forward, letting the waves crash around you both, his laughter tangled in the salty breeze.

And just like that, the playful battle turned into something else—something softer, something closer.

Lando’s grip on your wrists tightened just enough to steady you, to stop your playful attack before it could escalate further. His green eyes gleamed with amusement, his smile lazy, smug, entirely too satisfied with how easily he had flipped the situation in his favor.

“I swear to God, Lando,” you laughed, trying to twist out of his hold, your feet stumbling against the shifting sand beneath the waves.

He hummed, pretending to think, the water rising higher around both of you now, cool and refreshing, lapping at your waist. “Swearing won’t help you now.”

You narrowed your eyes, determined, using the element of surprise as you shifted your weight, pushing into his chest with a sudden burst of force.

Lando wasn’t expecting it.

His balance tipped backward, his arms loosening just enough for you to break free. And before he could recover, before he could retaliate, you placed both hands flat against his chest and pushed.

The sound of his startled laugh echoed around you as he crashed into the water, disappearing beneath the surface with an exaggerated splash.

Triumph surged through you as you took a step back, grinning, waiting for him to come up for air.

And when he did, when he surfaced, soaked through, blinking against the droplets clinging to his lashes, you knew—you were in trouble.

Lando pushed his wet curls back, blinking rapidly, water dripping down his face as he wiped his eyes. The smug grin remained, but now it carried something else—determination.

“Oh, you think you’ve won?” he asked, voice low, teasing, the kind of challenge that sent a thrill of anticipation through you.

You took a cautious step back, pretending innocence, but your own laughter betrayed you. “I mean, I did push you in, so—”

You didn’t get the chance to finish your sentence.

Lando surged forward without warning, cutting through the water with ridiculous ease, hands reaching for you before you could fully react.

Your breath hitched, laughter turning into a surprised gasp as his fingers wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him just as the waves crashed around you both. His body was warm despite the chilled water, his grip firm yet playful, locking you in place before you could try to escape.

“Payback,” he murmured, voice closer now, breath brushing against your ear as his hold tightened just enough to make you gasp again.

“Oh, no—,”

“Oh, yes,” he grinned, and then—you were falling. Straight into the waves.

The cold swallowed you, a rush of adrenaline sparking through your veins as the water curled around you, pulling you deeper before you fought your way back to the surface. You came up gasping, hair soaked, eyes narrowed as you wiped water from your face.

Lando was already laughing, hands on his hips, victorious.

“Okay, fine,” you huffed, swimming closer, splashing at him without hesitation. “Now we’re even.”

Lando only chuckled, stepping back slightly, the playful gleam in his eyes still dangerously present. “Are we?” he asked, voice dropping slightly, teasing, challenging.

Max shook his head, amusement laced in his expression as he watched the chaos unfold. The water still rippled from where you and Lando had been fighting your playful battle, waves catching the sunlight as they curled gently toward the shore. “You two are like little kids,” he teased, his voice dripping with exasperation, though there was no real annoyance behind his words—just the familiar fondness of someone who had grown entirely used to your antics.

Ria, however, wasn’t focused on Max’s commentary. Her sharp gaze flicked between you and Lando, the playful energy, the laughter, the effortless way you were drawn to each other without even realizing it. And then, when her eyes settled on you, she knew. The way her lips curled slightly, the subtle raise of her eyebrow—it was the universal sign that she had figured something out.

You sighed, already knowing what was coming before she even spoke.

“Come on,” she muttered under her breath, grabbing your wrist with a firm grip, not bothering to wait for your agreement before tugging you toward the shore. The water dripped from your skin as you stumbled forward, the warmth of the sand shocking against your damp feet as you stepped out of the waves, leaving Lando and Max behind.

The summer sun kissed your skin, drying you quickly, though the remnants of saltwater clung to you, lingering like a reminder of what had just happened. The breeze swept in gently, carrying the distant laughter of beachgoers, the scent of sunscreen, and the quiet hum of the ocean stretching beyond the horizon. But none of that mattered—not when Ria turned to you fully, hands on her hips, eyes gleaming with knowing amusement.

“Tell me you don’t like him,” she challenged, her voice both lighthearted and firm, daring you to deny what she already knew was true. “And I swear if you say it, it’ll be obvious you’re lying.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, fingers twisting into the hem of your soaked shirt as if grounding yourself in the motion would help.

“I don’t,” you insisted, voice steady, too steady, because you were forcing it to be.

But the way Ria’s smirk grew—slow, confident, victorious—told you everything you needed to know.

She didn’t believe you.

Ria didn’t move, didn’t let you avoid the conversation, didn’t let you brush off the weight of the moment. Instead, she just stared, arms crossed, her head tilting slightly as she studied your expression, waiting—knowing.

You huffed, shifting uncomfortably, kicking at the sand beneath your feet, suddenly hyper-aware of the way your heart was beating just a little too fast.

She wasn’t going to let this go.

“You don’t like him?” she repeated, voice thick with skepticism, eyes narrowing slightly.

“I don’t,” you reinforced, but it wasn’t as sharp this time. It wasn’t convincing—not to her, not to yourself.

Ria rolled her eyes, scoffing as she reached for the towel she had tossed onto the chair earlier, shaking out the fabric before tossing it toward you. “Okay, sure. Tell yourself that.”

You caught the towel, gripping it tighter than necessary as you wiped the excess water from your arms. “It’s not like that,” you muttered, avoiding her gaze, keeping your voice neutral, like saying it plainly enough would make it true.

But Ria wasn’t buying it.

She leaned in slightly, her voice lower now, softer, but still teasing, still knowing.

You’re blind if you don’t see the way he looks at you.”

Your throat tightened. “Ria—”

“No, seriously,” she continued, crossing her arms again, watching your reaction carefully. “The way he looks at you? The way you look at him?” She scoffed, shaking her head. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you two were already dating.”

You laughed—actually laughed—because that was ridiculous.

“You’re reading into it way too much,” you said, shaking your head, draping the towel over your shoulders. “Lando’s like that with everyone”

Ria gave you a look, the kind that made your stomach twist.

“Oh, babe,” she murmured, smirking now, too confident, too sure. “He’s not like that with everyone.”

Max let out a laugh, shaking his head as he floated in the water, watching Lando with the kind of knowing amusement that only a best friend could have. The waves rolled gently around them, pulling them in and out with the steady rhythm of the ocean, the sun reflecting brightly against the surface. Lando’s face was mostly unreadable—at least, to someone who didn’t know him well. But Max? Max could see it, clear as day, written in every glance, in every slight hesitation, in the way his gaze always found its way back to you.

“You are making it so obvious, man,” Max muttered, voice carrying just enough teasing to make sure Lando felt it, to make sure he couldn’t brush it off like some fleeting thought.

Lando frowned, his brows furrowing just slightly. “What?” He sounded genuinely confused, but Max knew better—knew he wasn’t oblivious, just in denial.

Max raised an eyebrow, letting the words come easily, stating them like they were the most obvious thing in the world. “That you like her.”

The reaction was instant—too instant. “What?! I mean, I don’t,” Lando blurted, but even as he said it, his head turned slightly, his eyes flickering toward the shore, towards you.

You were laughing, your fingers wringing the water from your hair, the sunlight catching in the damp strands, reflecting golden against your skin. There was something effortless about the way you carried yourself, the way you fit so seamlessly into this moment, into his life. And maybe Lando wasn’t ready to admit it—to say it out loud—but the way his chest tightened at the sight of you, the way his breath caught just slightly, was proof enough that he felt it.

Max watched him carefully, waiting for the inevitable, waiting for him to realize what was so blatantly obvious to everyone else.

And then—Lando sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, dropping the fight just slightly. “Okay, maybe a bit,” he admitted, voice quieter now, not defensive, just hesitant. His fingers fidgeted against the surface of the water, his gaze shifting between you and Max, uncertainty laced into his expression. “But she’s not interested in me.”

Max scoffed, shaking his head, kicking at the water with his foot, sending small splashes toward Lando in frustration. “Bro, are you blind?”

Lando scoffed, shaking his head as if trying to dismiss Max’s words, but the doubt—the possibility—lingered beneath it, stubborn, refusing to leave. His fingers skimmed the surface of the water, fidgeting slightly, his mind turning over the idea even though he wanted to ignore it.

Max sighed, rolling his eyes as he drifted closer, arms lazily cutting through the waves. “Mate, seriously. Do you really think she’d mess around with you like that if she didn’t care?”

Lando huffed, shifting slightly, the hesitation obvious now, even if he was trying to play it cool. “She messes around with all of us.”

Max scoffed again, shaking his head. “Not like that.”

───

It was the perfect time for drinks on the beach, for lazy mornings stretched under the sky, for the simple indulgence of summer.

Max and Ria had sent you and Lando on a mission—drinks for them. And of course, it was just the two of you.

Lando had excused himself to the bathroom as you made your way to the bar alone, the wooden counter smooth and cool beneath your fingertips. The bartender greeted you with a quick glance, his eyes lingering for just a beat too long before his lips stretched into a polite smile.

“Hey,” you greeted, returning the expression, casual, effortless. “Can I get two piña coladas and two mojitos?”

The bartender nodded, grabbing the bottles, beginning the careful process of crafting the drinks, his movements precise, practiced. “Of course,” he said, breaking the quiet pause between you. Then, as he worked, he tilted his head slightly, curiosity lining his words. “How do you enjoy it here?”

You smiled, glancing briefly at the expanse of beach behind you, the waves curling toward the shore, the distant laughter of other vacationers filling the air. “Yeah, it’s beautiful,” you said simply, the sentiment genuine, but not particularly deep.

The bartender’s attention lingered, his fingers tapping against the counter rhythmically, his expression shifting just slightly, leaning into something more… bold. “I work ‘til seven,” he started, the words slow, deliberate. “Maybe, don’t you want—”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence.

Before you could react, before you could fully process where this was going, a presence appeared behind you—familiar. The scent—clean, warm, Lando. The voice—smooth, casual, just a little too nonchalant.

“Hey, babe, what’s up?”

His arm slid around your shoulders easily, comfortably, like it had always been there, like it belonged.

The bartender’s expression shifted—hesitated—eyes flickering between you and Lando, the realization settling quickly, the unfinished sentence evaporating before it could ever be spoken.

Lando glanced at the drinks being prepared, acting as if he hadn’t just interrupted something, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “What’s taking so long?” he mused, voice light, casual, but there was something underneath it—something sharp, something intentional.

You blinked, adjusting to the shift in energy, to the way Lando had stepped in so seamlessly, the way his grip on your shoulder didn’t falter, didn’t shift.

“Oh, just waiting,” you murmured, watching as the bartender refocused, speeding up his movements, no longer lingering, no longer making conversation.

Lando hummed, fingers pressing lightly against your skin, his hold easy, effortless, territorial.

The walk back to the others felt different—like the air had shifted somehow, like something had settled between you and Lando in a way neither of you had fully acknowledged yet. The drinks rattled slightly on the tray he carried, the condensation dripping onto his fingers, but he didn’t seem to mind. He carried it effortlessly, like it had always been his job, like you weren’t even allowed the chance to take it from him.

You glanced at him, side-eyeing, testing the waters.

“You really didn’t need to do that,” you pointed out, voice light, teasing.

Lando smirked, adjusting his grip on the tray, his fingers flexing ever so slightly around the edges. “I wanted to,” he said simply, like that was answer enough.

You scoffed, shaking your head, brushing off the teasing, but the way he had stepped in earlier, the way he had slid into that moment at the bar so seamlessly—it was still sitting somewhere deep in your thoughts, lingering.

And then—

“You know he was gonna ask you out, right?”

You faltered slightly in your step, turning toward him, eyebrows knitting together. “What?”

Lando kept walking, kept looking ahead, but there was something too casual about the way he spoke, too measured. “The bartender,” he clarified, tone easy, natural, like this conversation wasn’t something, like it was just another harmless observation. “He was working up to it.”

You frowned, replaying the moment in your head, the way the bartender had leaned in slightly, the slow, deliberate way he had spoken, how the unfinished sentence had died the moment Lando arrived.

And the way Lando had arrived.

“Okay,” you said slowly, watching him now, studying the way his posture remained relaxed, like he wasn’t fully paying attention, like he was trying too hard to seem unaffected. “So?”

Lando shrugged, fingers tapping idly against the side of the tray. “So I wasn’t gonna let that happen.”

Your stomach twisted, heartbeat skipping slightly.

You tilted your head, crossing your arms as you walked. “That’s a bold move, Norris.”

He smirked, but he still didn’t look at you. “Didn’t feel bold. Felt necessary.”

Your pulse stuttered, but you refused to let the weight of his words settle in a way that made them mean something.

You rolled your eyes, pushing forward. “You don’t own me, you know.”

Finally, finally, Lando looked at you. And there was something charged in his gaze, something teasing, something knowing.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his lips curling slightly. “I know,”

But the way he said it—the way his voice dipped just slightly, the way his smirk didn’t quite reach his eyes—made you wonder if maybe, he wanted to.

But yeah, you definitely did not like him. Not at all.

───

The night was alive, stretching out ahead of you like something infinite, something meant to be reckless, unforgettable. It was exactly what young people did on vacation after sunset—drink too much, dance too hard, let loose in a way that would be laughed about in the morning.

The plan was simple: get wasted. Totally. Immorally.

And somehow, that plan had led you here—to a club humming with bass so deep it vibrated through your chest, neon lights flickering in shades of electric blue, ruby red, pulsing violet. The air was thick, heavy with heat, sweat, the scent of alcohol mixing with the excitement of too many people packed together, bodies swinging, moving, losing themselves to the rhythm of the music.

And, once again, it was just you and Lando.

Ria and Max had disappeared, slipping away into the chaos without so much as a word, vanishing into the crowd like ghosts. It wasn’t the first time they’d done this—always conveniently lost, always conveniently absent just when it was only the two of you left behind. Suspicious. Too suspicious.

You narrowed your eyes slightly, scanning the room, half expecting to catch a glimpse of them watching from a shadowed corner, hiding like they planned this, like they wanted this.

Lando leaned in, close enough that his breath brushed against your ear, his voice low but teasing over the music. “They do it on purpose, you know.”

You tilted your head just slightly toward him, raising an eyebrow. “Obviously.”

He grinned, stepping closer, the space between you shrinking, the flashing lights catching in his damp curls, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw. The energy between you shifted—something playful, something charged, something neither of you had acknowledged outright.

“So,” he mused, his tone light but suggestive, “since we’ve lost them… what do we do now?”

Your stomach twisted, pulse picking up speed, matching the pounding beat of the music.

The thought of searching for Ria and Max had been weighing on you—not enough to take action yet, but enough to sit somewhere in the back of your mind, whispering that finding at least one responsible person would be the smart move. Because while getting wasted was absolutely part of the plan, drunk Lando was a different story altogether. He was chaos personified, a walking hazard when he got too far into his drinks, and if past experiences were anything to go by, you knew there was no controlling him once he hit a certain level.

You needed someone to be the voice of reason—the grounding force among the recklessness. And right now? That someone wasn’t you.

But then—the music changed.

The opening chords of Tate’s No, I'm Not in Love pulsed through the speakers, threading through the air, wrapping itself around the flashing neon lights, settling into the atmosphere like it belonged there. You froze, breath catching for just a second, because Jesus Christ, no song could possibly describe your situation better than this one. It was too on point, too fitting, like the universe itself was nudging you towards a realization you weren’t sure you wanted to fully embrace.

You glanced over at Lando, watching as he swayed lightly to the beat, blissfully unaware of the ridiculous irony of the moment. He was too caught up in the rhythm, too lost in the intoxicated haze of the night, but you? You weren’t lost at all. You saw it clearly. And suddenly—the idea of searching for Max and Ria seemed a lot less important.

A slow smirk curled onto your lips, mischief flickering in your eyes. “Maybe we should enjoy it on our own,” you mused, letting go of whatever impulse had been telling you to find the others. Let them watch. Let them plot.

The moment overtook you—the alcohol, the music, the sheer audacity of knowing Ria and Max were watching like hawks from whatever hidden corner they had claimed. So, fine. If they were going to meddle, if they were going to set the stage for whatever game they thought they were playing, you might as well put on a show.

You threw your head back, letting the music pulse through you, and without hesitation, the words left your lips—loud, exaggerated, off-key but undeniably committed.

“Every friend of mine, I told them the same!"

Lando hesitated at first, brows furrowing slightly, the drunken haze clouding his comprehension. But then—then something clicked. Recognition. Understanding. And slowly—dangerously—a smirk crept onto his face, matching the energy you had thrown out so unapologetically.

He laughed, shaking his head, letting the moment settle before joining in, leaning closer, voice rough, teasing.

“No, I'm not in love!"

You threw your arms out dramatically, gesturing like you were making some grand proclamation to the entire club, like this was a performance meant to be witnessed, meant to be talked about.

“I’m not thinking about you,” you sang, voice tangled with laughter, exaggerated and bold, thrown out into the air like they meant nothing, but they did, and it was an obvious lie, one that Lando saw straight through.

Because the way he laughed, the way his fingers curled around your wrist for a fleeting second before letting go told you he knew, he knew you were lying, he knew this wasn’t just a drunken joke anymore, he knew that whatever was happening between you—the teasing, the tension, the game neither of you had fully acknowledged yet—was already spiraling into something dangerous, something inevitable, something neither of you were stopping.

His gaze lingered, sweeping over you with an ease that was too deliberate, too knowing, and he tilted his head slightly, watching the way you swayed, the way the neon lights painted streaks of red against your skin, the way your breath hitched when he stepped just a little closer, and still, the lyrics kept coming, tumbling past your lips effortlessly, sinking into the charged air between you.

“And I don’t hate every girl your eyes go to!”

Lando’s smirk deepened, slow, deliberate, dangerous, and then, just for a moment, for one fleeting second, his eyes dragged over you, measured, intentional, like he was answering a question neither of you had spoken aloud yet, like he was proving something, like he was silently calling your bluff.

“No I’m not in—“

The words barely had time to leave your lips before Lando’s hands were on you, pulling you in, crashing his mouth against yours with the kind of recklessness that came from too many drinks, too much tension, too much waiting. There was nothing gentle about it, nothing hesitant—just a collision of heat and energy, the culmination of a night filled with teasing and unspoken words. The weight of the moment drowned out everything else.

The music thumped in the background, a steady pulse, a heartbeat for the night, but it was distant now, muted beneath the rush of blood in your ears. The flashing neon lights bathed everything in shifting hues, casting streaks of electric blues and reds against his skin, painting the moment in something surreal, something that didn’t feel entirely real but was. The crowd moved around you, bodies swaying, voices blending together in laughter and shouting, but none of it mattered.

All that existed in that breathless, intoxicated second was him.

Lando tasted of tequila and recklessness, of something unspoken, something that had been lingering between you for far too long. His grip was firm, fingers curling against your waist, holding you close, grounding you in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. There was a desperation in it—like maybe he’d wanted this longer than either of you would admit, like maybe this wasn’t just about the alcohol or the tension but something deeper, something inevitable.

When he finally pulled back—just enough to see your face, just enough to look at you the way he always did but never quite let on—his smirk was lazy, teasing, dangerous. His thumb brushed against your jaw, gaze flickering over your expression, searching, waiting, as if he expected you to say something, as if he knew there were words stuck in your throat that you weren’t quite ready to speak.

The energy between you was charged thick with the weight of something inevitable, something unspoken, something that had lingered far too long between teasing smiles and fleeting touches. The music swelled, pressing into the moment, drowning out logic, hesitation, reason.

You hadn’t thought—you had just moved hands gripping his shirt, pulling him back into you, kissing him without restraint, without second-guessing, without giving yourself the chance to stop.

This time, Lando wasn’t caught off guard.

This time, he expected it.

His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer, his lips pressing against yours like he wasn’t just matching your recklessness, like he was meeting something that had always been there.

The world blurred, neon colors flashing against his skin, drowning you both in electric hues, but none of it mattered—none of it registered—not when the only thing grounding you was him.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, breathless, gaze flickering between your lips and your eyes, searching for something unspoken, something real, something that neither of you had fully admitted yet.

“Still not in love?” he murmured, voice low, teasing, but there was something else beneath it, something daring, something that asked for more than just a playful answer.

Your chest rose and fell, breath uneven, heartbeat thrumming in rhythm with the bass.

You swallowed hard, shaking your head slightly, though it wasn’t convincing, though the smirk playing at the edges of his lips told you he knew the truth.

“I’m very drunk,” you countered, not answering his question, deflecting, but the way your fingers still curled into his shirt, the way you hadn’t let go—it was telling.

Lando hummed, lips twitching at the corners, his thumb tracing absent patterns along your waist. “So am I,” he admitted, voice barely above the music. “But I still meant it.”

Your stomach twisted, breath hitching.

The words hung in the air between you, heavier than the pounding bass, louder than the drunken chatter of the club around you. You barely processed the flashing neon lights anymore, barely registered the movement of the crowd—because suddenly, the only thing that mattered was him.

Lando’s grip on your waist hadn’t loosened, his fingers still curled against your skin like he wasn’t ready to let go, like he wasn’t even thinking about letting go. His expression had shifted—something softer beneath the smirk, something hesitant but certain at the same time.

“I like you, Y/n,” he said, voice lower now, quieter, like it wasn’t just another teasing remark, like it actually meant something. “A lot.”

Ria and Max stood near the exit, casually leaning against the wall, watching the scene unfold before them with smirks that said they knew this was coming all along. The neon lights flashed overhead, casting an electric glow across the club, but neither of them were paying attention to anything other than you and Lando, tangled together, oblivious to their spectators.

Ria took a slow sip of her drink, eyes gleaming with amusement as she tilted her head toward Max. “Right, because she’s definitely not in love,” she remarked, voice dripping with sarcasm, barely masking her satisfaction at seeing her prediction come true.

Max chuckled, crossing his arms as he watched Lando pull you closer like he had to, like it was beyond his control now. “Oh yeah, totally platonic,” he mused, amusement flickering in his tone. “You know, just friends, casually making out in the middle of a crowded club.”

Ria scoffed, shaking her head. “Honestly, they should start paying me. I don’t even charge for matchmaking, but I really should.”

Max nudged her lightly, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. We didn’t do anything this time. This was inevitable. We just sat back and let it happen.”

───

Nobody talked about that night—not even Ria and Max, which was strange considering how much they loved meddling, loved pushing things just for the sake of watching them unfold. They had bet on it, plotted it, orchestrated it in their own way, but afterward? Nothing. No smirks thrown your way, no sly remarks, no comments about how they knew this would happen, no subtle nudges toward whatever this was supposed to mean.

It was like they had collectively decided to let it sit untouched, unmentioned, as if acknowledging it would make it real.

Maybe that should have made it easier.

Maybe the silence should have let you push it aside, should have allowed it to fade into the same blur of bad decisions and drunken recklessness as the rest of that night.

But then there was Lando.

And Lando? He hadn’t let it go at all.

If anything, his teasing had gotten worse—relentlessly worse—so subtle yet so constant that it was impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just the casual smirks anymore, wasn’t just the playful nudges or the remarks that made you roll your eyes and shove him away. It was everything. The way his eyes lingered just a second longer when you spoke, the way his fingers found yours absently when you walked side by side, the way he leaned in just a little too close whenever he whispered something meant only for you.

And Ria?

She noticed everything.

She never said anything outright, never pushed you into admitting anything, but the way she looked at you sometimes—head tilted, lips curled into an amused smile, eyes flickering with knowing—said she had already figured it out. And every time, every single time, you gave her the same answer.

“I’m not in love," you’d mutter, rolling your eyes, shaking your head, pretending like your pulse didn’t quicken, pretending like you didn’t think about it far too often, pretending like Lando wasn’t making sure you fell for him anyway.

The silence of the room pressed in around you, thick and suffocating. The rhythmic rise and fall of Ria’s breath was steady, unbothered by the weight that kept your own eyelids stubbornly open. It had been two nights since sleep last found you, and tonight was shaping up to be no different.

Then, suddenly—light.

The glow of your phone cut through the darkness, harsh against tired eyes. For a moment, you didn’t move, staring at the screen as if expecting it to vanish. But the light remained, unwavering.

A message.

Your stomach tightened. Not just any message.

Lando.

lando u sleepin? cuz i can’t max’s snoring so damn hard

yn can’t sleep either lol

lando u wanna go for walk on the beach??

The absurdity of it barely even registered. A walk at 2 AM? When the rest of the world was either asleep or tangled in the chaos of the lingering night—but, somehow, it made perfect sense. You were so in.

yn yea let’s go

You barely breathed as you stepped through the doorway, moving with careful precision, as if the slightest misstep might shatter the quiet and wake Ria or Max. The apartment was still, save for the faint hum of the city beyond its walls, the distant murmurs of late-night traffic weaving into the silence. You pressed your fingers against the doorframe, guiding it closed with measured patience, and when the soft click finally sounded, you exhaled in relief.

Lando stood beside you, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, his head tilted slightly in amusement as he glanced your way. His smirk—lazy, teasing—played at the edges of his lips, barely visible beneath the dim glow of the hallway light filtering out from inside.

"Think we made it?" he whispered, voice just loud enough for you to hear but quiet enough to keep the stillness intact.

You lifted a hand instinctively, holding it up like you were listening for a signal—some shift, some noise, some indication that you had failed. But everything remained silent, uninterrupted, untouched by your presence. You waited for the inevitable creak of bedsprings, for Max's sleepy complaints, for Ria's sharp curiosity, but nothing came.

Only silence.

Finally, you lowered your hand, a slow grin pulling at the corners of your mouth as you shook your head.

Lando let out a short chuckle, shifting slightly as he rocked on his heels, as if adjusting to the crisp air outside. "We could have just left normally, you know," he mused, tone easy, effortless.

You shot him a flat look, crossing your arms as you stepped further from the door. "Yeah? And risk Ria analyzing our entire existence before we even make it down the street?"

Lando laughed at that, tilting his head in acceptance. "Fair point."

The street stretched ahead of you, quieter now than it had been hours before, when the city had still been alive with movement, with music, with crowds lost in the indulgence of the night. There was something surreal about it—something almost too peaceful, too still—like the world had reset itself while you weren’t looking. The cool breeze brushed against your skin, a sharp contrast to the lingering warmth of the alcohol still settling in your veins.

Lando fell into step beside you, his hands still stuffed into his pockets, his movements relaxed, unconcerned, but the energy between you was different now—charged in a way that made your stomach twist.

"So," Lando mused, kicking a loose pebble across the pavement, watching it skip and tumble down the road. "Are we just walking? Or are we pretending this isn’t weird?"

You scoffed, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets. "It’s not weird. It’s just... spontaneous."

Lando snorted, glancing at you with a raised brow. "Right. ‘Spontaneous.’ That’s what we’re calling it?"

You nudged him with your elbow, rolling your eyes. "Shut up."

The waves rolled in with a quiet rhythm, a soft pulse against the shore, stretching out beneath the moonlight in endless streaks of silver. The night was still, peaceful in a way that felt surreal, as if time had slowed just for the two of you, as if the world had paused long enough for you to finally let yourself feel everything you had been avoiding.

You walked in silence for a while, the cool ocean breeze wrapping around you, carrying the scent of salt and something nostalgic—something that reminded you of summer nights spent chasing moments you never wanted to end. Lando kept pace beside you, hands tucked into his pockets, steps steady and deliberate, like he was waiting for you to speak first, like he knew that this conversation wasn’t one he could force.

But you didn’t say anything. You weren’t ready—not yet.

The sand shifted under your feet, soft and weightless, grounding you in ways you didn’t expect. Lando let out a breath beside you, not impatient, not pushing—just waiting.

And then, finally, he broke the silence.

“Are we gonna talk about it?”

His voice was calm, easy, but something else lay beneath it—something careful, something that wasn’t just teasing, something real.

You inhaled slowly, pretending not to understand, pretending this was just a normal conversation between two friends, the kind that didn’t linger, the kind that didn’t change anything. “About what?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, feigning innocence, though you knew he wouldn’t buy it.

Lando scoffed lightly, shaking his head, amusement flickering in his eyes despite the weight of his words. “Stop, you know.”

You were quiet.

Watching the waves pull back, watching them crash forward again—predictable, inevitable, like this.

He sighed, running a hand through his curls, exhaling a short laugh—something small, something he barely let out. “You should admit it.” His tone was lighter now, still teasing, but there was something else beneath it, something steady, something that made your chest tighten.

You frowned slightly, finally turning to meet his gaze. “Admit what?”

His smirk deepened, slow, deliberate, steps measured as if he was guiding you toward an answer you weren’t ready to say out loud.

“That you’re falling for me.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, trying—desperately trying—to keep your pulse steady, to keep your breath even, to keep your face neutral, but none of it worked.

Lando let out a short laugh, shaking his head like he didn’t believe you for a second.“I don’t have to wish, Y/n,” he murmured, voice easy, confident, frustratingly sure of himself. “You’re already there.”

The silence stretched between you, thick and charged, filled with something that had been lingering in the air for far too long. The ocean’s rhythmic pulse filled the quiet, waves rolling in and out with steady precision, as if mimicking the careful balance you had both been maintaining. The moon hung high above the water, casting silver reflections across its surface, making everything feel softer, making everything feel realer.

You shifted on your feet, forcing a casual shrug, though the weight in your chest told you it wasn’t casual at all. “I could say the same,” you murmured, your voice measured, controlled, desperately trying to maintain the effortless front. “That you need to admit it.”

Lando exhaled a short laugh, shaking his head slightly, eyes glinting with something unreadable beneath the dim light. His smirk—lazy, teasing—was still there, but it had softened at the edges, something else slipping through, something honest, something serious.

“I don’t need to admit it,” he said, voice quieter now, steadier, as if choosing his words carefully. “I’ve already fallen for you.”

He had already said it—put it all out there without hesitation, without fear, without holding anything back. Now, it was your turn. You could see it in the way he looked at you, the quiet patience, the soft expectation, the way he was just waiting for you to say it, waiting for you to give in. And the worst part? You wanted to.

You inhaled sharply, pressing your lips together, willing your pulse to slow, willing your thoughts to steady, but none of it worked. Because the truth was already clawing its way out of you, raw and unfiltered, slipping past your defenses faster than you could stop it.

“Okay—I like you so much,” you admitted, the words tumbling out, rushed and desperate, thick with the weight of everything you had been holding back. Your breath hitched, your fingers curled at your sides, like your body was still trying to fight something your heart had already accepted. “All those jokes, Lando... God, they weren’t just jokes.”

Lando’s expression shifted the moment the words left your lips. His eyes locked onto yours, the quiet patience still there, but now there was something else—something warmer, something realer, something that felt like relief and victory all at once.

“You finally said it,” he murmured, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, shaking your head slightly, frustration and disbelief mixing into something unsteady. “Yeah,” you muttered. “Guess I did.”

Lando chuckled softly, stepping a little closer, his fingers brushing against your wrist before curling lightly around it. “And?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, his tone teasing but careful, like he wasn’t pushing too hard—just enough to hold onto this moment, just enough to make sure you didn’t run from it.

“And…” you exhaled, searching his face, searching the warmth in his gaze, searching for the courage to just say it properly. “And I’m done pretending.”

Lando smiled then—really smiled. The kind that made your chest tighten, the kind that made it impossible to regret admitting any of this, the kind that told you that, whatever this was, it wasn’t going anywhere.

His hand slid fully into yours, fingers intertwining like they’d been waiting to do so for a long time. “Good,” he murmured. “Because neither am I.”

He was still holding your hand, fingers laced with yours like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he had been doing it forever, like he had no intention of letting go anytime soon. The waves continued their steady rhythm in the distance, rolling in and pulling away, but right now, the only thing grounding you was him.

“How do we tell Max and Ria?” he asked, amusement lacing his voice as he tilted his head slightly, studying you like he already knew you were dreading the thought of it.

You groaned, rolling your eyes, even as a small laugh escaped. “God, I don’t even want to think about it,” you admitted, shaking your head. The very idea of telling them sent a wave of anticipation—and, honestly, chaos—crashing into your mind. “Ria is going to freak out, I just know it.”

Lando grinned, shaking his head. “Please, she’s known for months.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, lips pressing together as you considered that for a moment. “Max, maybe,” you conceded. “But Ria? If she knew, she would have said something. She would’ve been obnoxious about it.”

Lando’s laugh was louder now, more certain, like he had already imagined Ria’s reaction in full detail. “You don’t give her enough credit. She was waiting for us to get together.”

You sighed dramatically, tilting your head toward the sky like you were searching for divine intervention. “We could just… never tell them,” you suggested. “Keep it a secret forever. Take it to the grave.”

Lando snorted. “Yeah, sure. Because that worked so well for us before.” His voice dripped with amusement, and before you could argue, he tugged on your hand lightly, pulling you just a little closer, shaking his head at you like you were being ridiculous. “You’re scared of telling them more than you were scared of admitting it to me, aren’t you?”

You huffed, but the way he was looking at you—so effortlessly amused, so endlessly fond—made it impossible to argue. “I’m not scared,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “It’s just… Ugh, it’s going to be a thing, you know?”

Lando smirked, squeezing your hand lightly. “Oh, absolutely. Max is going to make fun of us for at least a week.”

“And Ria will be unbearable for a month,” you groaned.

Lando chuckled, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over the back of your hand. “So, are you gonna do the honors, or should I?”

You groaned again, shaking your head. “Absolutely not. You tell them.”

© norristrii 2025

[multifandomsofficial]

🧸 + denial. realization. obsession. + lando (maybe a little friends to lovers 🤭)

a/n: ohhh maddie i love your brain!! (oops i kinda went overboard for this)

you and lando had known each other for what felt like ages. the two of you had gone to the same country club when you were younger, both of you often following your parents. you instantly hit it off, becoming buddies as you wandered around the country club together.

since then, you and lando had become fast friends normally, staying close despite lando making it into formula 1. you still kept in touch as much as you could with countless facetimes, online games, and texts about each other’s day. you often couldn’t go to races, having been busy with work; however, when max and the rest of lando’s friends in quadrant decided they were going to go watch lando race, an invitation was extended to you.

you were hesitant at first, knowing the expensive lounges they were going to choose, but max said that he’d pay for it. (which meant that lando would pay for it, most likely) so now, you were getting out of the car, heading towards the track. you and ria were laughing about something when some teenage girls tapped you on the shoulder. “excuse me, are you lando’s girlfriend?”

your eyes widened with surprise, shaking your head. “no, i’m a close friend of his,” you answered. glancing up, you expected ria to be just as surprised as you were, but she gave you an amused smile.

“that was odd,” you commented to her, walking towards the mclaren garage.

“right, odd,” ria murmured, but it was almost a half-hearted agreement.

you were about to respond when you heard a voice behind you call your name. spinning around, you saw lando, who had a look of surprise on his face. “you’re here!” he grinned, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in a tight hug. lando nuzzled his face in your hair as he spoke. “i didn’t know you were coming, but i’m so glad you’re here.”

“glad to be here, lan,” you beamed. you both pulled back, maybe a bit reluctantly, and turned back to the rest of the group, who gave you the same amused glance ria had. but to add to that, the mechanics in the garage also shared a similar expression that you couldn’t decipher.

“this your girlfriend, norris?” one of the mechanics asked, chuckling. lando’s eyes changed into something veiled, something you couldn’t place. “you two make a good couple.”

“thanks, she’s one of my best friends,” lando responded, throwing an arm around your shoulder. you nodded, smiling at him, though something in your gut twisted at his words. best friends, that’s what you and lando were, so why weren’t you happy with that?

but. wait.

lando had said thanks to the compliment about being a good couple. and he hadn’t necessarily said you weren’t a couple. your mind was reeling with the implications, heart fluttering at the thought that maybe you liked him. what made it more suspenseful was that he quite possibly felt the same.

“hello? you good?” lando laughed, waving a hand in front of your face as you blinked. “spaced out, huh?”

you chuckled, though somewhat nervous, and tugged at his hand. the surprise and faint hope in his eyes wasn’t lost on you. “wanna go for a quick walk?” you suggested. “my brain’s a little busy.”

lando quickly nodded, hand on your waist as he guided you out into a quiet area in the paddock. with your newfound epiphany, you were paying attention to every single detail. had lando always put his hand on your back? when did he start? did his touch always make your heart flutter?

“are you okay?” lando asked softly, eyes seeming green in the sunlight.

“i’m fine,” you replied. “it’s just…” you trailed off, not brave enough to voice your hopes about something that could change your friendship.

“just what?” lando questioned, scrunching up his nose in confusion.

“everyone’s been asking me if i’m your girlfriend lately,” you started.

“is it bothering you? i could-”

“lando, no, it’s not that,” you said, cutting him off. “but i was thinking. if you’d ever thought it about. us dating, i mean.”

lando glanced at you, surprise in his expression as he took a step towards you. “i do think it about it,” he nodded. “every time i look at you.”

your jaw dropped at the revelation, and you mentally kicked yourself for being so stupid. he had had feelings for a while now? and you had still maintained that you were friends? “what if,” you started, “we could tell people that it was true?”

lando’s mouth curled up into a grin, arms wrapping around your waist. “is that what you want?”

instead of answering him verbally, you pulled him down, smiling as you kissed him.