#Garage Conversions Miami
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miamifirstremodel · 10 months ago
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Professional Shower & Bathtub Replacement Services in Miami
When it comes to home renovations, nothing rejuvenates a bathroom quite like a fresh shower or bathtub replacement. At Miami First Remodeling, we are dedicated to providing top-tier Shower & Bathtub Replacement Miami service, transforming your bathroom into a space of both beauty and functionality. With years of experience in the remodeling industry, our skilled team works diligently to deliver outstanding craftsmanship that will leave you with a bathroom you’ll love for years to come.
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Why Choose Shower & Bathtub Replacement?
In the fast-paced Miami lifestyle, bathrooms serve as sanctuaries of relaxation. However, over time, your shower or bathtub may begin to show signs of wear and tear. Whether you're dealing with outdated designs, cracked surfaces, or inefficient water flow, replacing your shower or bathtub can significantly enhance the aesthetics and functionality of your space. Miami First Remodeling specializes in providing solutions tailored to your specific needs, helping you create a luxurious and modern bathroom.
Benefits of Shower & Bathtub Replacement in Miami
1. Improved Aesthetics:
Replacing your old shower or bathtub breathes new life into your bathroom. You can choose from modern, sleek designs that complement your home’s interior and provide a visually pleasing space for you to unwind.
2. Enhanced Functionality:
New showers and bathtubs come equipped with the latest technology, offering features like water-saving systems, superior durability, and comfort-focused designs. A replacement ensures you enjoy the benefits of modern innovations.
3. Increased Home Value:
Upgrading your bathroom with a new shower or bathtub can boost your property value, making it more appealing to potential buyers. In a competitive real estate market like Miami, small improvements can make a big difference.
4. Better Water Efficiency:
Older models often use more water than necessary, leading to higher utility bills. A new shower or bathtub is more water-efficient, saving you money in the long run and helping the environment.
Our Shower & Bathtub Replacement Process
At Miami First Remodeling, we follow a meticulous process to ensure every replacement project exceeds your expectations. From the initial consultation to the final installation, we prioritize your vision and comfort every step of the way.
Step 1: Consultation and Design Selection
During our initial consultation, we listen to your needs and assess your current bathroom layout. We present various options, including walk-in showers, soaking tubs, and custom-built designs. You get to choose materials, finishes, and configurations that match your style and budget.
Step 2: Preparation and Removal
Our team ensures that your home remains clean and protected during the project. We carefully remove the existing shower or bathtub, taking care to minimize any disruption to your daily routine.
Step 3: Installation and Finishing Touches
Our expert technicians handle the installation with precision. Whether it’s a frameless glass shower enclosure or a deep soaking tub, we guarantee a flawless fit and finish. After installation, we complete the project with attention to detail, ensuring all fixtures and accessories are correctly installed.
Step 4: Final Walkthrough and Inspection
Once the project is complete, we conduct a final walkthrough with you to ensure you are satisfied with the work. We pride ourselves on delivering a final product that meets and exceeds your expectations.
Garage Conversions in Miami: Maximize Your Space
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Beyond bathroom renovations, Miami First Remodeling offers premier Garage Conversions Miami service. A garage conversion is an excellent way to maximize your living space without expanding your home’s footprint. Whether you need an additional bedroom, a home office, or a studio, converting your garage provides endless possibilities.
Why Consider Garage Conversion?
Garage conversions are becoming increasingly popular among Miami homeowners who want to add functionality and value to their homes. Instead of allowing your garage to serve as a storage space for unused items, consider transforming it into a usable living area.
Here are some reasons to explore garage conversions:
1. Additional Living Space:
As your family grows or your lifestyle changes, you may need extra living space. Garage conversions offer an affordable way to gain this space without the expense of an extension.
2. Increased Property Value:
A well-executed garage conversion can significantly increase the value of your home. Whether you plan to sell in the future or simply want to invest in your property, a converted garage adds value and appeal.
3. Flexibility and Versatility:
Converted garages can serve multiple purposes, from guest rooms to entertainment areas. The flexibility of this space allows you to adapt it to your current and future needs, making it a smart investment.
4. Cost-Effective Home Expansion:
Compared to traditional home additions, garage conversions are typically more affordable and require less time to complete. You get more usable square footage without the need for extensive construction work.
Our Garage Conversion Process
The success of your garage conversion relies on expert planning and execution, which is why Miami First Remodeling is the trusted choice for many Miami homeowners. Here’s a glimpse into our garage conversion process:
Step 1: Initial Consultation and Design Planning
We start by discussing your vision for the converted space. Whether you need a functional home office or a cozy guest suite, we develop a design plan that suits your needs and enhances the overall layout of your home.
Step 2: Permit Acquisition
Our team handles all necessary permits and ensures that the conversion meets local building codes. We take the hassle out of navigating Miami's permitting process, so you can focus on enjoying your new space.
Step 3: Structural and Aesthetic Modifications
Depending on your garage’s current structure, we may make modifications such as insulating walls, installing windows, and upgrading the flooring. We also pay attention to aesthetics, ensuring that the new space seamlessly blends with the rest of your home.
Step 4: Final Touches and Inspection
Once construction is complete, we perform a thorough inspection to ensure everything is up to code and meets our high standards. We walk you through the finished project to ensure you are delighted with your new space.
Why Choose Miami First Remodeling?
At Miami First Remodeling, we are committed to excellence in every project we undertake. Our dedication to quality craftsmanship, customer satisfaction, and attention to detail sets us apart from other remodeling companies in Miami.
Here’s why you should choose us for your next bathroom renovation or garage conversion:
Experienced Professionals: Our team consists of highly skilled professionals with years of experience in bathroom renovations and garage conversions.
Customized Solutions: We work closely with you to create designs that reflect your style, preferences, and functional needs.
Timely Completion: We respect your time and aim to complete every project on schedule, without compromising quality.
Competitive Pricing: We offer high-quality services at competitive rates, ensuring you get the best value for your investment.
Conclusion
Whether you're looking to transform your bathroom with a new shower or bathtub or maximize your home’s potential through a garage conversion, Miami First Remodeling is the company to trust. We bring your vision to life with expert craftsmanship, attention to detail, and a commitment to customer satisfaction.
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landinrris · 1 year ago
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So i was rewatching the hug between Lando and Martin before Las Vegas GP and i realised that during time when Lando was greeting Gordon and Holly Jon and Martin were hugging. That słone shows me how close Martin and Lando are if Jon who is so close to Lando is also close to Martin. I have feeling that it wasnt only during Miami weekend that Martin spend time in Lando driver room
Oh believe me, in like the hundred times I've watched that clip, I have definitely clocked the very brief exchange that Martin and Jon have half-off camera. It's truly a stark reminder of how much time they likely see each other when Martin's at the races even when he doesn't/can't show that he's with McLaren.
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pitlanepeach · 1 month ago
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Radio Silence | Chapter Forty
Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)
Series Masterlist
Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.
Then Lando Norris happens.
One moment. One line crossed. No going back.
Warnings — Autistic!OFC, pregnancy, strong language, slight smut, a bit of general anxiety.
Notes — Welcome to Miami!!!!!
2024 (Miami—Imola)
The McLaren garage was quiet in that early-morning lull before the chaos. Screens still black. Tyres covered. Mechanics nursing coffees and stretching into the day. Amelia stood just inside the halo of overhead lights, hands on her hips, watching her car, her car, come alive in pieces.
The floor gleamed with fresh resin. The side-pods were lean, smooth, seamless in their curvature. The front wing was finally the right spec; the airflow data had confirmed it. The new floor geometry played nicer with the updated rear suspension. The whole package, finally cohesive.
It had taken months of pushing. Quiet conversations. Brutal ones. Drawings on the back of napkins, pacing in her kitchen at 2am. And it was all here now, carbon and copper and logic made real.
She didn’t say anything at first. Just circled the car slowly, one hand brushing against the wing mirror, the leading edge of the nose, the curve of the intake. Reverent, almost.
Tom stood a few feet back, sipping from a thermal mug. He was always nearby at the moment; watching and learning. “Looks different,” he said.
Amelia nodded. “This is the car I designed from the beginning. No compromises. No shortcuts.” She crouched beside the floor, fingers tracing the sculpted undercut, the exact shape she’d fought for. “We’ve been patch-working upgrades onto old foundations. But this; this is a clean slate. It’s mine. Finally.”
“So it’s ready?” He asked.
She looked up at him, eyes sharp. “Yeah. It’s ready to win.”
Lando ducked into the garage then, still in joggers and a hoodie, yawning around a protein bar. He caught her eye, then stopped mid-step. “Holy shit.”
Amelia nodded.
He stepped closer, hands in his pockets. Studied the car with wide eyes, taking in every minor adjustment, every small change that’d somehow made the entire car look different. Meaner.
“It looks fast.” He breathed.
“It is.”
He turned toward her, something quiet in his expression. “You happy?”
Amelia didn’t blink. “I’m relieved. Now it’ll do exactly what I designed it to do.”
Oscar wandered in a moment later, eyebrows lifting when he saw the chassis. “Oh shit, this the final spec?”
“The one I promised you both,” Amelia muttered.
Oscar grinned, circling the nose. “Looks like a weapon.”
Amelia hummed. “That’s because it is. All the patchwork’s gone. This weekend, you’ll both be driving the car I built for you from the ground up.”
Tom, now beside her, tapped his pen against his notebook. “You going to name it?”
Amelia looked at him like he’d grown two heads. “It already has a name — and that name has my initials in it anyway. Why would I give it another name?”
Oscar shrugged. “I name my chassis something new every weekend.”
“That’s because you’re weird.” She told him.
But later, when they were running race simulations and Lando had slipped out for media, she sat alone beside Oscar’s car, one hand resting lightly on the side-pod. Just for a second. And under her breath, too soft for anyone to hear: “Don’t let me down.”
Because it was all here now; her vision, her work, her legacy in motion.
And in Miami, for the first time all year, she was finally going to see her car on track.
Even in Miami, the F1 Academy paddock felt smaller. Tighter-knit. Less spectacle, more steel. It reminded Amelia of the early days she’d watched on flickering TV screens—before race suits were tailored, before engineers had agents. When she’d been three feet tall and already knew more about car setup than most of the men working on them.
She walked beside Susie, the low hum of tyre warmers and generators buzzing faintly underfoot. The air smelled like brake dust and fuel. It smelled like home.
“You don’t get much spare time,” Susie said, glancing down at the curve of Amelia’s bump beneath her papaya hoodie. “So thanks for making this one count.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Amelia said, eyes scanning the compact garages. “These girls are the future of motorsport.”
A mechanic rolled a jack across their path. A knot of young drivers stood nearby, still in their fireproofs, talking fast, voices tight with nerves.
Susie called one over. “Chloe. Come here a sec.”
Chloe Chambers jogged over, ponytail bouncing, already grinning like she knew exactly who Amelia was.
“Amelia Norris,” Susie said, pride softening her voice. “Meet Chloe. One of our brightest. She’s been dying to pick your brain.”
Chloe stuck out a hand, eyes wide. “I’ve watched every onboard from Oscar since you started working with him. And you basically built this year’s McLaren, right?”
Amelia glanced at the hand, winced, then gave a small shrug. “Built it. Argued over it. Cried about it once or twice. So—yes.”
Chloe lit up, dropped her hand like she didn’t even register the rejection. “I want to do what you do. I mean—I want to drive first. But also understand the car. Maybe even design one. Someday.”
Amelia's smile tugged sideways, something more serious behind it. “Then don’t let anyone tell you to choose. You don’t have to.”
A few more girls wandered over—Doriane, Abbi, Maya. One asked if it was true she’d rewritten part of the ride height algorithm in the middle of the night, thanks to pregnancy nausea.
“It’s true,” she said dryly. “Wouldn’t recommend it. I couldn’t stand the smell of carbon fibre for three days.”
They laughed, young, high, unfiltered, and something eased in her chest. She didn’t feel like a figurehead here. Not a myth. Just one of them. Older, yes. Blunter, definitely. But still part of it.
“Do you still get nervous?” One asked. “Being Oscar’s engineer?”
“No,” Amelia said. “But sometimes, I get… quiet before an upgrade. Or a tough strategy call. But I trust the hours I put in. That’s how you survive in this job—you trust the work, then you trust yourself.”
They asked for a photo. She said yes.
Afterwards, stepping back into the heat and light, Amelia felt something shift beneath her ribs. Not the baby. Something else.
“These girls,” she murmured. “They’re so—”
“Ready,” Susie finished. “They just need someone to show them what’s possible.”
Amelia looked down at her belly. The baby kicked once, low and firm. She wondered—would her daughter want this one day? The speed. The noise. The risk.
Would she want her to?
She didn’t know.
But she knew this: she wanted the door to be open. And she wanted it to stay that way.
“Well,” Amelia said, eyes back on the track. “Let’s make sure the road stays clear.”
Susie nodded, a quiet kind of promise in her voice. “That’s exactly why we’re here.”
The room was dark.
Not pitch-black—just enough light from the closed blinds to trace the edges of things. A spare media suite deep in the team hospitality unit, soundproofed from the bustle outside. Cold air whispered from the vents overhead.
Amelia sat curled up on the floor, back against the wall, knees drawn to her chest. Her hoodie sleeves were pulled down over her hands. In her lap, she twisted the stim toy between her fingers: click, roll, flip, snap. Again. Again. Again.
Her morning had unravelled in that invisible way it sometimes did. Nothing catastrophic—just too many voices, too many schedule changes, someone touching her shoulder without warning. The wrong texture on the cutlery at breakfast. The wrong smell in the paddock. She’d swallowed it all down with a brittle smile until she couldn’t anymore. Now the inside of her head felt raw and overlit, and only silence helped.
Click. Roll. Flip. Snap.
The door opened.
Soft, slow. No bright light flooding in. Just a narrow slice of hallway glow and a silhouette. Lando.
He didn’t say anything. He just stepped inside, closed the door again behind him. Let the dark settle. He moved quietly, then sat beside her, legs stretched out, shoulder to shoulder with hers.
A beat later, the door creaked again. Oscar this time.
She didn’t look up, but she knew him by the shape of his walk, the subtle way he moved like he was trying not to wake a sleeping cat. He settled on her other side, crossed-legged, just close enough to touch but not quite.
Nobody spoke.
Amelia kept clicking. Rolling. Flipping. Snapping.
And slowly, her breathing evened out.
Lando reached over and gently brushed his fingers across the back of her hand. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. She let him. Then let her head tilt sideways until it rested lightly on his shoulder.
Oscar stayed quiet, respectful in that way he always was with her—like he got it, even if he didn’t always understand. He just existed beside her, like a grounding point.
The toy made a soft clack as she turned it over again, her fingers finding the rhythm she liked best. The baby shifted inside her, low and firm. She exhaled slowly.
They weren’t talking. They weren’t asking her what she needed. They just were. Present. Patient. Steady.
It hit her, then, with quiet force: how deeply she was loved. Just… for being.
She blinked hard. One tear, maybe two. Nothing dramatic. Just the kind that came when the pressure released, even just a little.
Click. Roll. Flip. Snap.
Lando rested a hand on her hip, tracing soft circles on the red, itchy stretch marks. Oscar leaned his head against the wall, eyes closed, humming something tuneless under his breath.
Amelia let the dark hold all three of them.
And she knew that soon, she’d feel okay again.
Amelia had gone out for air.
That was the plan, anyway—just ten quiet minutes away from the structured chaos of media day. No cameras, no questions. Just walking, hoodie on, head down, hands in her pockets.
But somewhere along the paddock hospitality row, she saw them—six or seven VIP fans lingering near the McLaren garage, lanyards bright, eyes wide, trying not to look starstruck and failing. Most of them were young women. One had a notebook. Another had made her own earrings out of mini DRS wings. A third was nervously adjusting the hem of her papaya windbreaker.
They saw her before she could disappear.
“Hi—sorry—Amelia?”
She could’ve smiled and nodded and kept walking. Instead, she stopped. “Yes,” she said. “Hello. You’re not supposed to be standing there. You’ll block the tyre trolleys.”
One of them blurted, “You’re, like… kind of our hero.”
Amelia blinked at them. “Why?”
Which made them all laugh awkwardly.
“I mean,” the DRS earring girl said, “you built the car. Everyone knows it. You’re the reason we’re consistently getting podiums again.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Amelia said bluntly. “But thank you.”
The girl with the notebook held it out. “Could I maybe ask you a few questions? Just for fun?”
Amelia glanced around. There was a patch of artificial turf by the hospitality tents where a drinks cooler sat forgotten. No cameras. No execs. No schedule.
“Fine,” she said. “But I want to sit down. And I want something to eat.”
Fifteen minutes later, Amelia was cross-legged on a grassy patch, a fizzy drink in one hand and a half-eaten granola bar in the other, surrounded by a semicircle of fascinated girls. Someone had scrounged up crisps and trail mix from a hospitality unit. It was, essentially, a picnic.
She’d taken a napkin and a pen and was now drawing vortex flows and side-pod shapes in clean, confident lines, explaining how turbulent air off the front wing could be used as a tool, not just a nuisance.
“People always think air is the enemy,” she said. “It’s not. It’s a language. And if you understand what it’s saying, the car will behave for you.”
Someone gasped. Someone else scribbled furiously. One girl offered Amelia a gummy bear, which she accepted without breaking eye contact from the diagram.
“Do you… want your daughter to be an engineer too?” One asked, softly.
Amelia paused. “I want her to believe that she can be anything she wants to be.”
That was when Lando found her.
He was coming from an interview and nearly missed the scene entirely. Then he spotted her—Amelia, sitting in the middle of the grass like a camp counsellor or a pre-school teacher, surrounded by fans who all looked like they were in total and utter awe of her.
Oscar arrived seconds later. “Is this… what’s going on?”
“I think it’s a cult,” Lando whispered. “My wife has created a cult and she is their leader.”
One of the girls spotted them and nudged the others. The whole circle turned.
“Oh. Hi,” Amelia said, gesturing vaguely to them. “They asked me about ground effect. I got carried away.”
Lando sat down beside her without a word. Oscar followed, grabbing a crisp from the communal bowl like this was all perfectly normal.
“We’re learning,” Oscar said solemnly. “Let’s not interrupt the professor, Lando.”
One of the girls burst into laughter. Amelia handed her the napkin diagram and grinned.
And there, in the middle of a media day she’d meant to escape, Amelia Norris held court not to journalists or executives; but to the next generation. Bright-eyed. Hungry to learn. Eager to belong.
Later, Lando slipped an arm around Amelia’s shoulders.
“So,” he said, voice light but steady, “when our daughter’s old enough, do we risk teaching her about vortex generators and having her build a wind tunnel in our bathroom?”
Amelia rolled her eyes, resting her head against his chest. “Who knows? She might put us all out of a job.”
He laughed softly. “She’ll definitely get your brains.”
“And your stubbornness.” She gave him a sidelong look. “And adrenaline addiction.”
“Great combo.”
They walked slowly back toward the garage.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“If she wanted to race,” Amelia started, her hand moving instinctively to her hip, “would you want that for her?”
Lando scrunched his nose, bit his lip. “God. Uh…” He paused, searching her eyes. “I’d be worried. Not happy about it, but if it’s what she wanted, I’d make it happen.”
She studied him. “You’d make it happen even if it made you unhappy?”
“Worried,” he corrected gently. “Worried sick, probably. I’ve crashed, seen the worst of it. You know how dangerous this sport is. Would you be okay with it?”
She shrugged. “I’d tell her the risks, the stats. Karting? Sure. But racing professionally… I don’t know.” She hesitated, voice quieter. “I don’t know.”
Lando cupped her cheek. “It’s okay not to know yet.”
“I don’t know,” she repeated, staring into his eyes as panic fluttered beneath her skin. “Why don’t I know? I should.”
He pulled her close, voice low. “It doesn’t work like that, baby. I’m sorry.”
She sniffled, clutching his shirt. “Parenting is already hard and she isn’t even born yet.”
“Yeah,” Lando agreed, with a shaky kind of inhale. “Yeah.”
Amelia sat on the couch in their hotel room, fiddling with her stim toy, brow furrowed. The past few weeks had been… confusing. She knew about pregnancy hormones, but this sudden surge in her sex drive? That was new and confusing territory.
Lando entered the room, carrying a glass of water. He caught her eye and smiled, but there was a flicker of something (nervousness?) in his gaze.
“You okay?” He asked, voice a bit higher than usual.
Amelia bit her lip. “Can I ask you something?”
He nodded quickly, almost too quickly.
“Is it… normal to suddenly want sex all the time? Like, nonstop?” Her voice was blunt but uncertain. ‘I’m nervous to look it up in-case weird stuff comes up.”
Lando’s face flushed, and he scratched the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at her. “Uh, yeah. Totally normal. Second trimester… hormones and all that.” He cleared his throat. “Not that I’m complaining.”
Amelia blinked, surprised by his sudden heat.
Lando shifted closer, cheeks still pink. “I mean, it’s… well, you’re pretty irresistible right now.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Irresistible?”
He swallowed hard. “Yeah. So, uh… we can make you feel better, if you want?”
Before she could respond, he leaned in, brushing his lips lightly against hers. The kiss was soft but full of promise, and Amelia’s heart sped up in that familiar way; equal parts surprise and warmth.
When they parted, Lando grinned sheepishly. “You want to?”
Amelia stared at him. “Yeah. Now. And then again a few more times. And tomorrow morning before we go to the track.”
He stared at her for a beat before he smiled wide, sharp little fangs and all.
Amelia lay awake.
Her head rested on Lando’s chest, his hand soft against the curve of her belly. His breathing was slow, steady, familiar. She could feel the faint shift of it under her cheek.
She stared at the ceiling, fingers tracing idle circles over the sheets.
She hadn’t expected to want him like that. Not with this body — not now, not so much. And yet…
Flashes of the night flickered across her mind like bright sparks.
Lando’s laugh, half-muffled against her neck.
His voice, rough, whispering, “You sure? You’re sure?”
The way he’d kissed the inside of her wrist every time.
Her hoodie halfway off, clumsily caught around her elbows.
The sound she made when he touched her lower back — sharp, surprised.
His thumb brushing gently over her bump, reverent. “Hi, baby,” he’d whispered, “Your mum’s kind of a goddess.”
She blushed in the dark just thinking about it.
But what stuck with her most wasn’t the heat — it was how seen she felt. How known. How safe.
She’d spent most of her life learning to translate herself for the world. She thought that’s what relationships would always have to be — filtering, explaining, shrinking things down.
But with Lando, she had never once had to do that.
He read the pauses in her voice like she would read telemetry. Felt her silences without trying to explain. Met her confusion with patience, not pity. Anticipated the needs she hadn’t even decoded herself yet.
She tilted her head, studying him in the quiet.
She hadn’t just fallen in love with him all those year ago.
She’d grown into love with him — steady, real, elemental.
And somehow, impossibly, he kept giving her more reasons to love him even more.
She pressed a kiss to his chest, so soft he didn’t stir.
Then closed her eyes, finally ready to sleep.
The bathroom lights were aggressively bright for how little sleep Amelia had gotten.
She was perched on the closed toilet lid, sleep-shirt inside out, bump resting on her thighs, and a toothbrush in her mouth. Her phone leaned against a half-used roll of toilet paper on the counter, and Pietra’s face filled the screen, already smirking.
“You look like you’ve been run over,” Pietra said with wide eyes.
Amelia spat into the sink. “I had sex for four hours straight last night.”
Pietra choked on her iced coffee. “Good morning, mami.”
Amelia shrugged like she was reporting on tyre deg. “Hormones.”
“Second trimester hitting like DRS on the main straight, huh?”
She nodded seriously. “It’s physiological. There’s blood flow redistribution and heightened sensitivity in—”
“Stop,” Pietra laughed. “You can’t do the engineering breakdown of your sex life.”
Amelia grinned, a little proud. “I definitely can. Do you want to see my graphs?”
“No graphs.Please. No vibes. How’s Lando coping?”
“Hydrated. Exhausted. Still asleep,” she said, brushing through her tangled hair. “He kept making these noises like he couldn’t believe what was happening.”
Pietra chuckled. “Yeah, he’s down bad for you, my girl.”
“I know,” Amelia said. “He, like, kept kissing my wrist.”
“Amelia. Please.”
“No, like he held it and did it twice.”
There was a pause.
Pietra blinked slowly. “That’s so sweet.”
“He made me feel like myself again.” She flushed.
Pietra was quiet, her smile gentler now. “Because you are.”
Amelia nodded once. “He’s also half-worried that our daughter might invent a bathtub wind tunnel.”
“Oh God,” Pietra said, grinning again. “That little girl is going to make him go grey. I hope she cuts up her dolls and builds a diffuser from their severed limbs.”
“She won’t have dolls.” Amelia said dryly. “She’ll have CFD software.” Even though her tone was flat, the twitch of her lips betrayed her joke.
Pietra laughed. Amelia finished tying her hair into a low, slightly messy ponytail. A streak of sunlight cut through the window, warming the tiles beneath her feet.
“I should go,” she said. “Track walk in forty-five minutes.”
“Tell Lando I said ‘well done’.”
Amelia rolled her eyes. “No. That’s weird.”
“You love me anyway!”
Amelia ended the call and stared at herself in the mirror for a second.
Messy. Flushed. A little wild-looking.
Entirely herself.
And deeply, deeply loved.
The heat shimmered off the asphalt in waves, the whole paddock buzzing with anticipation. Miami was loud, chaotic, full of pastel shirts and bass-heavy DJ sets; but the McLaren garage felt like a storm waiting to break.
Amelia had one hand on Oscar’s halo as he settled into the car. Focused. Calm. Starting fourth on the grid. It was a good starting position, but they both knew it wasn’t going to be an easy climb through the field — if they even managed to keep their position into turn one.
“Conditions are fine. Brakes might take a while to come in. Let the tyres come to you.”
Oscar looked up at her, half-grinning under his visor. “And if I don’t?”
“I’ll scream at you over the radio for being annoying and not listening to me.”
He laughed. “As usual.”
She patted the car once, stepped back, and moved to her tiny little thrown-together desk just as Lando passed her on his way to climb into his car. His hand grabbed her back. Their eyes met. He gave her a look; small, private, thrilling. The kind of look that said: I think today is the day.
She nodded once. Just once.
She’d believed in him for years now — since before Sochi, since before he’d even been given the full-time McLaren seat.
He was capable of incredible things. 
The first 20 laps were a blur of strategy juggling and telemetry surges. Amelia was locked into Oscar’s race; managing his energy deployment, traffic, undercut threats.
He was driving sharp. But something wasn’t sticking.
A slow pit stop on Lap 32 killed their momentum. They dropped back into traffic. She clenched her jaw, recalculated in seconds, called Plan C.
“Ducky, don’t lose steam. We’re still in this for good points. Head down.”
“Copy,” he said, clipped. Frustrated, but fighting.
But further up the field, Lando was flying.
And then there was the safety car.
Chaos. All improper preparation and garages rushing.
And then Lando exited the pits. And he hadn’t just made up a few positions — he’d taken the lead.
The garage erupted. Amelia nearly stood up from her station. She felt it before the numbers confirmed it — Lando was about to win his first Grand Prix.
She could barely breathe.
Oscar crossed the line P6. Solid points. Not what they hoped for, but not failure.
But Lando…
Lando held off Max for the last five laps like his life depended on it. No mistakes. Just pure, blistering pace and nerves of steel.
And then—
“Lando Norris. That’s P1. You are a Formula One race winner!”
Will’s words cracked through the comms.
The garage exploded.
Amelia didn’t move.
She sat frozen, one hand over her mouth, the other gripping the edge of the console like it would float her back to earth.
He’d done it.
Finally.
No more self-doubt. No more what-ifs.
Lando won.
Her husband, who stayed up with her until 3am looking at ride height data; had won.
And he did it in the car she built for him.
"We did it, Will. Amelia — baby, we did it. We did it!" He said over the radio.  
The first race it was fully her spec — and sure, they’d gotten ‘lucky’ with the safety-car, but luck was insubstantial. His pace said it all.
He’d won. And he’d won by a mile.
The moment she found him in Parc Ferme, still helmeted, still breathless, still shocked, she ran.
Not far; just to the holding area, where only a few people were allowed. But she was McLaren’s lead engineer. She was also his wife.
She had every right.
He turned and saw her and the helmet came off in one swoop.
His face was flushed, eyes red-rimmed, disbelieving.
She launched into his arms and he caught her without hesitation, arms around her waist, face buried in her shoulder.
“I can’t believe it,” he whispered. “I won. I fucking won, baby.”
“I can believe it,” she said, steady and breathless. “I knew it was coming. How long have I told you that this would happen for you? You’ve been driving like a winner all year, Lando.”
He kissed her, fast, messy, barely containing the wild joy in him. “Tell me you saw the move on Max.”
“I saw it. It was amazing.”
He laughed against her neck, giddy and stunned and vibrating with relief. “I did it, Amelia.”
“You did.” She leaned into him, eyes pricking with tears. “I am so, so proud of you. So proud.”
They went to a few parties. Smaller ones. Danced together — Lando being celebrated in exactly the way he deserved.
He hadn’t been all to keen on the idea of his visibly pregnancy wife going into the Miami nightclub, but she’d insisted they go. Even just for a little while.
Oscar and Lando stayed close — like bodyguards. Max was no better, hovering, constantly bringing her water. It was sweet. It was nice to still be involved in the celebrations.
His trophy sat on their hotel room table.
Lando was in the shower, singing Queen, completely off-key.
Amelia sat on the bed in one of his t-shirts, one hand on her belly, the other tracing the MCL38-AN etched into the side of the silver.
Their daughter kicked.
She smiled. “Your dad,” she whispered, “is a Formula One race winner.”
They touched down just before dawn, Heathrow still hushed in early morning fog. Amelia’s body ached with the kind of deep exhaustion that only adrenaline can leave behind; but her hand never left Lando’s.
He’d won. That wasn’t going to stop echoing in her head any time soon.
By the time they got to his parents’ house, the sky had cracked open with gentle rain. The front door opened before they even rang the doorbell.
His mum pulled him into a tight hug, burying her face in his chest. His dad hovered behind, proud and misty-eyed in the quiet way he always was. There were champagne flutes already out in the kitchen, a cake someone had clearly stayed up late decorating — “P1, Finally!” scrawled in sugar icing.
But what caught Amelia off guard was how his mum hugged her too.
Carefully, because of the bump. But tightly. Fully. Without hesitation.
“We were watching,” she said, her voice warm in Amelia’s ear. “I’ve never screamed so loud in my life. He wouldn’t have gotten here without you, you know?”
Amelia blinked. Didn’t know what to say to that. Just squeezed her hand and nodded.
Later, in the quiet of Lando’s childhood bedroom, Amelia lay curled into his side beneath soft, over-washed sheets. The walls were still plastered with old racing posters, a few crooked photos of karting days — a little shrine to where it all began.
The trophy was on the dresser.
Not a glass cabinet, not a pedestal. Just… sitting there. Like it belonged next to a lava lamp and a stack of F1 magazines from 2009.
Amelia snorted at the sight of it. “You really just plonked it there?”
“It’s weird, right?” Lando said, his voice drowsy. “Feels like it should be… more. But also not. I don’t know.”
“It’s exactly right,” she said. “It belongs where you started.”
He looked over at her. Tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You okay?”
She nodded. Then, after a moment, “It’s strange. Everyone talks about how hard it is to get here. To win. To be part of something like this. But nobody tells you how hard it is to… stop. To come down from it. To believe that it’s real.”
He didn’t answer right away. Just pulled her closer, hand on her belly. “She’s gonna know,” he said softly. “Our daughter. She’s going to grow up knowing this is possible. Because she’ll have you. And she’ll have me too.”
“You,” Amelia said firmly, “are going to be her favourite person.”
He flushed, kissed her shoulder. “You’re both my favourite.”
Breakfast was a chaotic, sweet mess. His younger cousins had come by with orange balloons and mini trophies made of Lego. His grandmother insisted on touching Amelia’s belly and declared, in full authority, that the baby would be born with racing boots on already.
Someone pulled out a bottle of something sparkling, and Lando looked like he might cry for the tenth time in 48 hours.
Amelia stepped outside with her tea, just for a moment. The garden smelled like damp grass and daffodils.
Lando came out after her, wrapping his arms around her from behind, nose pressed into her neck.
“We really did it,” he murmured.
“You did.”
“No,” he said. “We.”
She leaned back into him, eyes fluttering shut.
For once, she didn’t argue.
The highly sought after private clinic was tucked behind a row of converted barns; all soft wood beams and white walls, the kind of place that smelled faintly of lavender and sterilised plastic. Quiet. Private. No waiting rooms. No fluorescent lights.
It had taken Amelia weeks to agree to in-person visits. Not because she didn’t trust the care, but because the idea of new faces, new spaces, new sounds — it made her skin hum in the wrong way.
But this midwife, Fiona, had been patient. Kind. Spoken to her over the phone like Amelia wasn’t strange or fragile or complicated. Just… herself. And today, for the first time, they were meeting in real life.
Amelia sat in the softly-lit consultation room, sleeves pulled over her knuckles, while Lando leaned back in the chair beside her, fingers loosely linked with hers.
The door opened, and Fiona stepped in; mid-forties maybe, silver at her temples, Doc Martens under a midi skirt. Exuding a calm energy.
“Hello, Amelia,” she said with a small smile. “It’s good to finally meet you properly.”
Amelia blinked at her. “You don’t sound as tall as you do on the phone.”
Fiona laughed, delighted. “That’s a first. Most people say I sound shorter.”
Lando grinned. “She’s very good at spatial audio. It’s… sort of freaky.”
Amelia elbowed him lightly. “It’s not freaky. It’s useful.”
“I know, baby,” he said, kissing her hair.
Fiona sat, not rushing. Just matching the room to Amelia’s pace.
“Shall we talk through everything slowly?” She offered. “We’ll do the checkup, listen to baby’s heartbeat if you’re feeling up for it — and then talk about next steps. I’ve got your notes printed exactly how you like them. Font size 13, double spaced.”
That surprised a smile out of Amelia. “You remembered.”
“Of course I did.”
Fiona talked her through every step before touching her. Let Amelia guide where the Doppler went. Gave her control.
The heartbeat came through — fast and steady and perfect.
Lando stared at the screen like it was made of gold.
“There she is,” he murmured. “There’s our girl.”
Amelia stared at the graph. “Still sounds like a horse galloping.”
“Strong horse,” Fiona said. “Very healthy.”
They spent another fifteen minutes going over nutrition changes, sleeping positions, birth plans. Fiona never pushed. Never filled silence with filler words. Just waited.
“You’re very good at this,” Amelia said finally. “I don’t like many people.”
Fiona smiled gently. “That means a lot. Thank you.”
They stepped back out into the quiet spring air, a softness between them.
Lando opened the car door for her, waiting until she was settled before getting in himself. He looked over at her, one hand finding hers on the armrest.
“I like her,” he said.
“I don’t hate her,” Amelia replied, which was even better.
“You did so well,” he added softly. “I’m really proud of you.”
She glanced at him. “Why?”
“Because I know how much it costs you to do things that feel uncertain,” he said. “And you still showed up for her. For our daughter.”
Amelia’s eyes prickled, caught off guard by the depth in his voice.
“She deserves someone better than me, sometimes,” she whispered.
“No,” he said firmly. “She’s getting someone more brilliant, more brave, more herself than anyone could hope for.”
She kissed him. “Okay. Take me to get some chicken, please?”
The kitchen was full of soft light and the smell of roast chicken and rosemary potatoes. There were too many voices, too many overlapping stories, the occasional clink of cutlery — but somehow, it didn’t overwhelm Amelia the way it usually did. Maybe it was the dimmer switch Lando had installed last year. Maybe it was the way he kept checking in with her from across the room. Or maybe… maybe it was just the peace that came from knowing her daughter was still tucked safe inside her, heartbeat strong.
Dinner was warm.
They passed around the scan print-outs — Lando sliding them carefully across the table. His mum teared up a little at the clearest one, where the outline of a tiny face and curled fingers was visible.
“She’s so beautiful already,” Cisca whispered.
“She looks like an angry shrimp,” Amelia said flatly, which made Adam chuckle into his wine.
“An angry shrimp with a big Norris head,” Lando added.
“Oi,” Adam said. “Watch it.”
“She’s got Amelia’s precision, though,” Lando added, turning the scan toward his dad. “Perfect symmetry in the profile. Look at that jawline. Look.”
“She’s 38 centimetres long, Lando,” Amelia said, eyebrows raised. “She’s still just a smudge.”
He shrugged, grinning. “Let me have this.”
Cisca topped up everyone’s water and gently set her glass down. “Have you two thought much about… the birth yet? Or after? What it’ll look like, who you want with you, where?”
Amelia nodded immediately, already sliding her phone from the edge of her placemat. “Yes. I’ve got it all planned.”
She pulled up a bullet-pointed note, clean and colour-coded. “I’ll be labouring at home for as long as is medically safe, with Fiona monitoring. Then transferring to the birth centre — the one with the adjustable light panels and hydrotherapy. I’ve selected a playlist that aligns with optimal relaxation frequencies, and Lando will be coached on pressure-point guidance in case I don’t want verbal input. We’ll have backup bags packed and pre-positioned in the car by Week 37.”
The table went still for a moment. Not unkind. Just… a bit awed.
“And after?” Adam asked gently.
“Fiona will do at-home checks. I’ll be off work technically, but I’ll still be supporting Oscar’s data remotely if we’re out of hospital. I’m going to stay with my mum in Woking. Sleep will be rotational in the first two weeks depending on Lando’s schedule, but my mum had already agreed to step in. Breastfeeding is Plan A, bottle Plan B. I have a spreadsheet.”
There was a quiet pause.
Then Cisca reached over the table, her hand warm as it closed gently over Amelia’s. “That all sounds wonderful, my darling. But, and this is only a but, if it doesn’t go exactly the way you’ve planned, don’t panic,” she said. Her voice was soft but certain. “Sometimes babies decide to do things their own way.”
Amelia didn’t flinch from the contact — rare for her. She just looked at Cisca’s hand, and then at her face. “I know that,” she said, a little stiffly. “Logically.”
“But knowing it logically isn’t the same as feeling okay when it happens,” Cisca said gently.
Amelia looked down at the scan photo in front of her. Then quietly, almost like a confession, “I want to do it right. I want her to feel safe from the second she arrives.”
“She will,” Lando said, reaching for her hand under the table. “Because she’ll have you.”
The door was already open before they even made it up the path.
“There she is!” Zak’s voice boomed from the hallway as Amelia climbed out of the car, Lando trailing behind with his hand protectively on the small of her back.
Tracey appeared right behind him, dish towel still slung over her shoulder. “Let her breathe, Zak, Jesus.”
Amelia barely had time to blink before she was enveloped in one of her mother’s trademark, over-long hugs — all vanilla perfume and chaotic warmth.
“I can’t believe how much she’s grown,” Tracey murmured, hands sliding down to press lightly at Amelia’s bump. “My granddaughter’s in there, that’s crazy.”
“She’s the size a watermelon,” Amelia said, dry. “A big watermelon. But still.”
Lando grinned. “Not for long. She’s growing every day.”
Zak clapped a hand on his son-in-law’s shoulder. “Still wrapping my head around the fact that you’re gonna be a dad, son.”
“Same,” Lando replied with a breathy laugh.
The Browns’ home was bigger than you might expect, but still carried the energy of a family who talked over each other and left laundry on stair banisters. The TV was on in the background playing a re-run of some F1 docuseries, and Zak had already pulled out a bottle of strawberry alcohol-free wine.
“No, Dad,” Amelia said, waving him off. “No bubbles. I’ll get heartburn.”
“I’ve got ginger beer!” Tracey called from the kitchen. “And saltines!”
Amelia drifted toward the fireplace, fingers brushing over old framed photos. There was one of her as a little girl with a screwdriver in one hand. Another of Zak holding her on his shoulders at the Silverstone track.
She stared at that one for a beat too long.
“You okay, kiddo?” Zak asked gently, appearing beside her.
She didn’t look up. “Yeah. Just remembering.”
“You’d sit on the garage floor with the brake calipers,” Zak said, fond. “You used to name them.”
“They needed names. They had personalities.”
“You said one was ‘grumpy and over-torqued.’ You were five.”
She let out a tiny laugh.
Dinner was loud. American-style pot roast, mashed potatoes, green beans drowning in butter. Tracey refilled everyone’s drinks every ten minutes. Zak told old stories about testing sessions Amelia had half-forgotten.
Later, Amelia found a quiet spot in her childhood bedroom, lights dimmed, the duvet still vaguely smelling of fabric softener. Lando leaned against the doorframe, watching her brush her fingers over an old model car she’d built with Zak when she was nine.
“You okay, baby?” He asked.
She nodded. “Yeah. I’m nervous to be staying here again, after having the baby. I wish we could just… have her in Monaco and disappear for a few months.” She frowned. “We didn’t plan our timing very well, did we? You’ll be mid-season, and Oscar won’t have me there, and—“
Lando crossed to her and wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.“Hey. Hey, calm down, baby. I think that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be,” he murmured. “You’ll want your mum, yeah? She’ll be able to help you adjust without being overbearing.”
She hummed against his chest, her hands closing around his shirt. “What if you’re not here when it happens?”
He was quiet for a beat. “I’ll come home as soon as possible, baby. I promise.”
“I don’t want you to miss a single session.” She said, hotly. “But I want you with me all the time and I can’t have both, can I?”
“No, baby. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” He murmured. “It’s fine, baby.”
Amelia stood at the edge of the test platform, squinting at the flow viz spread across the prototype floor. She wasn’t officially here to work, just visiting. Just dropping in. Just… checking the numbers. Seeing the model. Touching the damn tunnel wall like it could somehow speak to her.
“It’s still bleeding airflow here,” she muttered to herself, pointing at the front of the floor, just under the bargeboard curve. “Boundary layer’s detaching early.”
“Still better than Ferrari’s design,” someone mumbled behind her.
“Low bar,” she shot back.
She didn’t look up. Her fingers danced automatically across the control screen. Toggling split channel overlays, flipping between computational fluid dynamics layers. She could feel her heartbeat syncing with the faint thrum of the tunnel, her mind slotting into gear like it always had.
Until she felt someone step beside her, too quietly for a regular engineer.
“Amelia,” Oscar said softly, hands in his hoodie pockets. “Hey.”
She blinked, her brain still five seconds behind in aero-language.
He glanced at the setup, then at her bump, then back to her face. “Did you… sleep at all last night?” He asked.
“I took a nap on Lando’s thigh for twenty-three minutes in the car,” she said.
Oscar huffed. “Very normal. Very healthy.”
She turned back to the airflow sim. “This isn’t right. The adjustment from the Miami spec — it’s throwing off drag balance on the mid-straight.”
“Amelia.”
She didn’t answer this time. Just kept muttering corrections under her breath, lips moving like she was translating a language no one else could see.
Oscar stepped closer, then placed one hand gently on her wrist — not to stop her, just to connect.“You’ve been here for hours. You can come back to this later,” he said.
“I don’t know how to be here without doing something.”
“I know,” Oscar said. “But we’re not racing this week. And you’re allowed to just… exist in this space without trying to fix every tiny issue that you see.”
Amelia looked at him. Her mouth opened, then shut again. He didn’t push. Just stood with her in the quiet hum of the room, solid and calm.
Eventually, she whispered, “My brain’s too loud when I stop.”
“Then let me help you turn the volume down,” Oscar said simply. “C’mon. Let’s go sit by the lake for a bit.”
They ended up outside with two mugs of ginger tea that Oscar had somehow convinced catering to let them take out of the dining hall. Amelia sat with her feet up on the bench edge, dress stretched over her bump, breathing slower now.
She watched the fountain spray in silence for a few minutes before saying, “Thanks.”
“For the tea?”
“For not treating me like I’m fragile,” she said. “But also not treating me like I’m a machine.”
Oscar smiled sideways. “You’re a human. A terrifyingly brilliant, data-possessed human. But still.”
She let out a tired laugh and leaned her head briefly on his shoulder. “Don’t tell Lando I had a moment.”
“Alright,” he said. “It’ll stay between us and the ducks.”
She smiled. “My ducky and my ducks — conspiring together. Cute.”
He rolled his eyes.
The morning sun hit the Emilia-Romagna pit lane with a sharpness that reminded Amelia of why she loved racing. Clean, brutal light cutting through the lingering coolness of dawn.
She stood just inside the garage, eyes scanning telemetry streams on her iPad, but her mind elsewhere. This was her second-to-last race before maternity leave. A strange mix of accomplishment and anticipation knotted inside her.
Lando caught her eye across the garage, giving a small thumbs-up. She returned the gesture with a faint smile.
Oscar approached, carrying his helmet. “Ready?” He asked.
“Of course I am.”
During a quiet moment before qualifying, Amelia slipped out from behind the pit wall to find Lando.
He reached for her hand, squeezing it lightly. “You okay?”
She nodded. “I’m okay. Just… thinking about how this is all starting to feel a bit too much like a goodbye for my liking.”
He brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “We’ll hold the fort. You’ll be back before you know it. You don’t need to worry.”
Her eyes softened. “I know. But it feels… weird.”
He held her. Kissed her. “You’ll be fine, baby.”
The race was intense. Strategy calls fired rapidly, tyres switching, gaps closing. Amelia’s voice came calm and precise over the radio, guiding Oscar through every corner, every lap.
When the checkered flag finally waved, Oscar finished fourth — solid, but just off the podium. Amelia exhaled, a complex wave of pride and bittersweet acceptance washing over her.
Lando’s race had been even more intense; a nail-biting late charge from Lando, a nail-bitingly close finish between him and Max.
They’d take second.
But she could see it. Hear it.
Her husband had enjoyed winning. And he was hungry for more.
Back in the garage, the team gathered around the screens replaying Lando’s brilliant win at Miami — a reminder of the highs to come. Amelia let herself smile, feeling the warmth of the team around her.
Lando slipped an arm around her waist. “Only one more weekend to go,” he murmured.
She leaned into him. “Yeah.”
Tom gave them a nervous smile. “I feel ready to take the reins. Do you think I’m ready?”
“As ready as you could possibly be.” Amelia told him.
Oscar laughed a bit. “I feel like I’m being passed between my divorced parents.”
Amelia rolled her eyes at him. “You’re ridiculous, ducky.”
NEXT CHAPTER
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cherriesnpapaya · 10 months ago
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Fashion Killer - LN
In which Mr Norris is left speechless over a sundress.
Warnings: NSFW - smut. unprotected sex, oral (both male and female receiving / giving), friends with benefits, soft dom!lando,
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Lan <3 - are you coming to the race?
Miami Grand Prix. In which the men on the grid couldn’t get away from models. Families definitely weren’t invited to this exhilarating mess of a weekend.
On my way sweet cheeks, please find me the coldest drink you can. - sent
Lando couldn’t care less what model they had behind him, trying to seem interested in the sport. He was watching her walk to the paddock in that ridiculously perfect sundress.
Loose, hung perfectly over her american doll legs. The cream of the linen light and only complimented by her brunette hair curled to perfection on her sides. He could practically feel how soft the stands felt as his hands gripped his bottle.
The tan she sported a crude reminder of her skimpy attire she had been living in whilst they lounged around the villa the last few days. He got them the quiet space, filled it with his friends to distract everyone and then revelled in her presence.
Bright smile on her cheeks as she waved for the cameras. Max Fewtrell by her side as they came to join Norris after supporting Fewtrell with his racing activities.
“How are you dressed in that.” She groaned, slipping onto a stool next to him. Lando had to peel his eyes off her legs before he ditched the car to catch a ride instead.
“My job, honey.” He chuckled, holding out his bottle for her. Bad idea.
He watched her lips wrap around the straw. He’s taken back to when he was teaching her how to use the bottles, and somehow ended up with a blowjob.
Final calls were being made to start the pre race media, so Lando stood up and opened his arms for his friends to fall into them.
“Go get em tiger.” She chuckled, the bottle handed back to him with the deep pink stain of her lipstick around the top of it. God how Lando wished to be a straw.
He certainly got them, coming first place for the first time in his career. He dripped with sweat, and some water he’s poured over his face, gleaming ear to ear. His tan still deep golden next to his orange suit.
The celebrations were never ending. From the crowd, his team, other garages and of course his fellow drivers. They poured into his villa, music and drinks flowing freely. The hum of chatter with the occasional cheer as the winner would join conversations. He worked his way round, trying to find the girl he’s been thinking about every second of the day.
“Thought I’d lost you.” He made her jump, slipping into her room. She turned from her position in front of the mirror, earrings in hand.
“I was just going to change.”
“But you look fit.” He could help but speak his mind. The filter between them had been lost about 6 shags ago.
“Have caught you staring a few times.”
“Oh no, punish me for my crimes please.”
He sneered, falling back onto the plush white bed. She rolled her eyes, placing the earrings down. The carpet muffled her steps, letting her slip between his open legs quietly.
“Aren’t you meant to be celebrating?” She teased, arms crossed as he peaked a look at her:
“I am, what’s my prize?” He hummed, sitting up to place his hands on the back of her thighs. Cheeky eyes gazed up at her, watching as her lip caught between her teeth. His thumbs worked circles into the soft skin. She didn’t know if she was desperate, but it felt like they slowly moved inwards.
The music vibrated through the floor, which she was quick to notice when she dropped to her knees. Lando couldn’t help the smirk taken over him, quickly removing anything in the way. He propped back on elbows as she finally took him into her hands.
Profanities rough from his throat as she took him down hers, tongue tracing the vein down the side of him. Bobbing her head, tongue piercing running over his top just how he liked. He throbbed, excitement having built up all day. She hummed, smirking when his head would fall back from watching her.
“Shit baby c’mere.” He ran a hand over her jaw, pushing her off his stained cock. He had the stamina for races in incredible heats, but she knew just how to ruin a man. He slipped off his tshirt in a blink, hands back glued to her hips as he pulled her to straddle his legs.
When she moved to slip her dress off, he caught her wrists, pushing them behind her back to drop them there. Her insides giddy with the move, grinding down slowly on his crotch.
“No chance. You’ve been teasing me with this all day.” He spoke against her neck, leaving sloppy kisses and sucks on any exposed skin. She didn’t even notice his fingers lingering over her panties, moving them to the side.
“Lando.” She whined, arms now hooked around his neck. He kneaded her arse, hips, tits as he sunk into her slowly. Her head rolled, moans covered up by the sounds of some asap song underneath them.
He could barely speak, weak moans fell from his open mouth as she took more control. Moving up and down at her own speed, occasionally rolling her hips to get him to hit that one spot.
She gasped, eyes shut as she rolled continuously into the same spot. Lando knew the tightness, he knew what it meant for you to get close.
“Just like that pretty girl.” He cooed, fingers brushing slowly over her clit in an aggravating manor. A string of swear words left the previously painted lips as she rolled, now mixing between rutting against his fingers and his cock.
Thank god for the loud music as she came for the first time that night, her body spasms into his as the rocking comes to an end.
“You good?” He checked, hands playing with the hem of her dress.
“So good.” Practically drooling, Lando chuckled at the cock drunk girl slumped into him. He attached his lips to hers, lifting her up to swap them around. Her legs rested over the end of the bed, not having a chance to even prop herself up before Lando licked a stripe through her folds.
It was a guilty pleasure of Lando’s, enjoying her body’s reactions to the way he rolled his tongue over her bud. Her legs wrapped around his head, before spreading again as she ran her fingers through his curls. She moaned out as Lando spat into her opening, the smile on his lips almost pushed her over the edge itself. And there she came, for a second time.
“You’re so gorgeous.” He complimented, overwhelmed by the look of her on the bed currently. Fucked out, face flushed and smiling. Hair sprawled out over the mattress, looking like a goddess. It made him harder to just look.
“Fuck me Lando.” She pulled him back in, heel digging into this back causing him to practically fall forward. He pretended to be shocked, moving her ankles to hang over her shoulders as he got right back to it.
“So fucking tight.” He hissed, fucking in and out of her and she swore he was in her stomach. He knew he was nearly fucked out, her nails digging into his stomach hinted the feeling was mutual.
Before he could pull out, he was pushing the warmth into her further. Moaning out probably a bit too loud, stilling completely as they both caught their breaths. Once he had pulled out, he was helping her clean up, pulling the dress back down to sit perfectly again.
“Wear that dress for me again sometime.”
“That’s a boyfriend privilege Norris.”
——————
Thank you for reading! New to the scene, so send any prompts/inspo over. I hope to write lots more for ya ;)
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iamquiantrelle · 6 days ago
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THE COMEBACK LAP • sir lewis hamilton (iamquaintrelle)
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# pairings: lewis hamilton x afrolatina!fem reader
# tags: @queenshikongo3 @peyiswriting @ggaslyp1 @pickingupmymercedes @snowseasonmademe @beauty-gurl @sailurmewn @lewismcqueen @purplerain-94 @vintagesoul-01 @jupias @saintslewis @cocobutterqwueen @purplelewlew @imjustheretomanifest @httpsserene-main @peaceiswonderful @scorpiobleue @deeziee @maximofflove @palefacestudentlove @justagirlwho-believes13 @fadedintime
# summary: It's been almost five years since you last saw Lewis, and in those almost five years, so many things have changed......
# author’s note: This is a very short series, only 12 parts
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The Miami sun was already brutal at nine in the morning, beating down on the Hard Rock Stadium paddock with the kind of relentless intensity that made Lewis question why the hell anyone thought hosting a Grand Prix in Florida in May was a good idea. He tugged at his Ferrari polo—still weird, even after four months of wearing red instead of silver—and tried to focus on what Angela was saying about his hydration levels for the upcoming practice sessions.
But his mind kept drifting to the car.
The fucking car.
Five races into the season and he was already regretting the move. The SF-25 handled like a temperamental ex-girlfriend—unpredictable, moody, and absolutely refusing to do what he wanted when it mattered most. P10 in Australia, P6 in China, P7 in Japan, and that disaster in Bahrain where he'd finished fifth, eight seconds behind Leclerc and feeling more lost than he had in years.
"Lewis, you listening?" Angela's voice cut through his thoughts, her familiar Kiwi accent both comforting and slightly exasperated. She'd been back in his corner for four months now, and thank God for that—having her return when he'd made the move to Ferrari had been one of the few smart decisions he'd made lately.
"Yeah, yeah. Hydration. Got it." He took a long drink from his water bottle, the electrolyte mixture tasting like artificial fruit and disappointment.
Angela didn't look convinced, but before she could say anything else, Lewis's attention was pulled away by a familiar laugh floating over from the media pen.
His blood turned to ice.
That laugh. He knew that laugh. Had heard it whispered against his ear in hotel rooms across three continents. Had chased it through late-night conversations that stretched until sunrise. Had missed it for four fucking years.
Lewis turned slowly, and there you were.
You stood with your back to him, microphone in hand, interviewing Charles about his practice session. Your hair was different—styled in sleek, shoulder-length waves that caught the Miami sun like spun silk. You wore a crisp white blouse that hugged curves that definitely hadn't been there before, and tailored navy pants that accentuated hips that were fuller, more lush than he remembered. Your whole silhouette had changed—where you'd once been lean and angular, all sharp edges and restless energy, you were softer now. Rounded in ways that made his mouth go dry and his hands itch with muscle memory.
You were laughing at something Charles said, that same bright, genuine sound that used to make Lewis's chest tighten in the best way, but there was something different about you too. A confidence, a maturity that hadn't been there four years ago. You moved with the easy assurance of someone who'd found their place in the world, who knew exactly who they were and what they wanted.
It was devastating.
"Shit," he breathed.
"What?" Angela followed his gaze, and he watched recognition dawn on her face. "Oh. Isn't that—"
"Yeah." Lewis's voice came out rougher than intended.
Angela had been around during the tail end of whatever you and Lewis had been. She'd watched him check his phone obsessively for weeks after you'd left, had seen the way his face would fall when yet another text went unanswered. She'd been the one to gently suggest he stop torturing himself.
He should walk away. Should head back to the garage and focus on the car, on the race, on literally anything else. But his feet were rooted to the spot, watching as you finished your interview and turned—
Your eyes met across the paddock.
The world stopped.
You froze mid-step, your professional smile faltering for just a moment before you recovered, your expression carefully neutral. But Lewis caught it—that flash of something raw and vulnerable before you locked it away.
Four years. Four fucking years since you'd disappeared from his life without explanation, leaving only a cold text that he'd read so many times he had it memorized: Please don't ever contact me.
And now you were here, in the Miami paddock, looking like you'd never left but somehow completely transformed.
Lewis found himself walking toward you before his brain caught up with his feet. Angela called after him softly, but he barely heard her. You watched him approach, chin lifted in that stubborn way he remembered, ready for a fight.
"Hey," he said when he reached you, his voice barely above a whisper.
You looked at him and something in your expression softened for just a moment before you caught yourself.
"Lewis." Your voice was steady, professional. Like you were strangers.
"I didn't know you were back in motorsports." He ran a hand over his head, suddenly feeling seventeen instead of forty. "It's good to see you."
A muscle in your jaw ticked. "Is it?"
The question hit him like a physical blow. Because the answer was yes—God, yes—but also no, because seeing you again was like pressing on a bruise he'd thought had healed.
"You look..." His eyes swept over you, taking in the way your blouse stretched across breasts that were fuller than before, the curve of your waist, the way your hips flared out in a way that made words escape him. "You look incredible."
You laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Thanks. You look..." Your eyes swept over him, taking in the Ferrari red. "Different."
"The car's shit," he said without thinking, then immediately regretted it. You'd always been able to get him to drop his guard without even trying.
A ghost of a real smile crossed your face. "That bad?"
"Worse." He found himself smiling back despite everything. "Remember when you used to say Mercedes was getting too comfortable? That we needed a challenge?"
"I remember a lot of things."
The way you said it—quiet, careful—made his chest ache. Because he remembered too. Remembered the way it had started, so casual, so simple. You'd been covering Formula 1 for a smaller outlet then, working your way up, and he'd been... well, he'd been Lewis fucking Hamilton. Fresh off another championship, riding high on success and his own ego.
You should have been just another journalist. He'd never mixed business with pleasure before, had learned early in his career that reporters were dangerous territory. But there had been something about you—the way you'd challenged him in interviews, refused to ask the same boring questions as everyone else, looked at him like he was just a man instead of a myth.
It had started with stolen glances across press conferences. Then lingering conversations after interviews that had nothing to do with racing. Then drinks in whatever city the circus had landed in that week.
He'd told himself it was just physical. You were beautiful, intelligent, and you matched his appetite for the kind of sex that left bruises and bite marks and had him forgetting his own name. It was supposed to be simple—two busy, ambitious people letting off steam between your respective careers.
But then you'd started talking. Really talking. About books and music and dreams that had nothing to do with lap times or championship points. You'd curl up against his chest afterward, skin still flushed and sticky with sweat, and tell him stories about growing up in a small town in Washington, about your family, about the first time you'd fallen in love with motorsports. And he'd find himself sharing things he never talked about—the pressure, the loneliness, the way success sometimes felt like a prison he'd built for himself.
It had been good. Better than good. It had been the first time in years that Lewis had felt like himself instead of just the carefully constructed public image of Lewis Hamilton.
Until it wasn't.
"Why did you leave?" The question tumbled out before he could stop it. "I mean, I can understand why you left me, but motorsports? You loved this. You were brilliant at it."
Something flickered across your expression—pain, maybe, or regret. Your hand unconsciously moved to your stomach, a brief, protective gesture that Lewis almost missed. "I had other priorities."
"Like what? What was so important that you had to disappear completely? I tried calling, texting—hell, I even asked around. It was like you'd vanished."
You opened your mouth to answer, but before you could speak, a small voice called out behind you.
"Mama!"
The word cut through the air like a blade, and Lewis's head snapped toward the sound. A little girl, maybe three years old, was running toward them with the determination that only toddlers possessed.
Lewis's world tilted sideways.
The child was beautiful—caramel skin, wild curls barely contained by pink hair ties that made his chest squeeze for reasons he couldn't name. She launched herself at your legs with a giggle that sounded like pure joy.
"Luna, baby, what did we say about running off?" Your voice had shifted completely, warm and maternal in a way that made Lewis's throat go dry.
A man appeared behind the little girl, tall and lanky with kind eyes and an apologetic smile. He was pushing an empty stroller and looked like he'd been chasing after the child for a while.
"Sorry, sorry," the man said, slightly out of breath. "She saw you and just took off. You know how she gets when she spots her mama."
Mama.
The word hit Lewis like a freight train once more. He looked between you and the man—handsome, clearly comfortable with you and the child, obviously part of their family—and felt something inside his chest crumble.
Of course. Of course you had a family now. Of course you'd moved on, built a life, found someone who could give you what he never could.
"It's okay, Gabe," you said, scooping up the little girl who immediately started babbling about something she'd seen near the Ferrari hospitality unit. "Lewis, this is my daughter, Luna. Luna, can you say hi to Mr. Hamilton?"
The child—Luna—turned those big brown eyes on him, and Lewis felt his breath catch. There was something familiar about her face, something that made his chest tight with a recognition he couldn't quite place.
"Hi," Luna said, smiling widely.
"She's beautiful," Lewis managed, his voice rougher than he intended. He looked at the man—Gabe—who was watching the interaction with an expression Lewis couldn't read. "You have a lovely family."
The words tasted like ashes in his mouth, but what else was he supposed to say? That looking at this little girl felt like looking into a funhouse mirror? That something about her made his chest ache in ways he couldn't name?
Your smile was tight. "Thank you."
The silence stretched out, awkward and loaded with four years of unspoken words. Luna was studying Lewis with those big, curious eyes, her head tilted in a way that sent another jolt of recognition through him.
"You're the car man," she said suddenly, her voice sweet and clear.
Lewis blinked. "Sorry?"
"The car man. On TV." She pointed at him with one tiny finger. "You drive the red car."
"That's right," Lewis said slowly, stepping closer. Up close, the resemblance was even more startling—something about the shape of her nose, the curve of her lips. "Do you like cars?"
Luna nodded enthusiastically. "They go fast!"
"Very fast," Lewis agreed, and found himself smiling despite the chaos in his head. "Maybe you'll drive them one day too."
"Luna's going to be a doctor," you said quickly, your voice sharp with something that might have been panic. "Aren't you, baby girl?"
But Luna was still staring at Lewis with those familiar eyes, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something important. Something that was right in front of him but just out of reach.
Finally, Gabe cleared his throat. "We should probably head back. Luna's getting cranky, and she needs her nap before the race."
"Right." You shifted Luna in your arms, avoiding Lewis's eyes. "Good luck tomorrow, Lewis."
You turned to go, and Lewis watched them walk away—this little family unit that somehow felt both foreign and achingly familiar. Luna peeked over your shoulder as they walked, those big eyes fixed on Lewis until they disappeared into the crowd.
And Lewis stood there in the middle of the media pen, surrounded by the chaos of race weekend, feeling more confused than he had in years.
________________________________________________
You sat on the hotel bed, Luna curled up beside you in her pajamas, clutching her favorite stuffed elephant. She'd been asleep for an hour, but you couldn't bring yourself to move. Couldn't stop staring at her face, seeing all the features that marked her as her father's daughter.
The stubborn set of her jaw. The way her nose curved just slightly at the tip. The exact shade of her skin, that perfect blend of your brown and Lewis's lighter tone. Even her sleeping position—sprawled out like she owned the world—was pure Lewis Hamilton.
"You're brooding again."
You looked up to see Gabe standing in the doorway between your adjoining rooms, concern written all over his face. He'd changed into sweats and a t-shirt, his dark hair still damp from the shower.
"I'm not brooding," you said quietly, not wanting to wake Luna.
"You're brooding. You've been brooding since we got back from the paddock." He settled into the chair by the window, studying you with those perceptive brown eyes that had been seeing through your bullshit since the first time the two of you met. "Want to talk about it?"
You looked back down at Luna, at the way her curls spread across the pillow like a halo. "He knows."
"Knows what?"
"He looked at her, Gabe. Really looked at her. I could see him putting the pieces together."
Gabriel was quiet for a moment. "Maybe that's not such a bad thing."
"It's a terrible thing." You smoothed Luna's hair back from her face, the gesture automatic and soothing. "She's mine. We've built a life in Seattle, a good life. Stable. Safe. I won't let him disrupt that."
"Babe—"
"No." You turned to face him fully, keeping your voice low but letting the steel show through. "I know what you're going to say. That she deserves to know her father. That Lewis deserves to know he has a daughter. But you weren't there, Gabe. You didn't see the way he looked when he talked about his schedule, about how racing had to come first. About how he didn't have room in his life for anything else."
"That was four years ago. People change."
"Do they?" You thought about the man you'd seen today—still beautiful, still confident, still carrying himself like the world revolved around him. "Because from where I was standing, he looked exactly the same."
Gabriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You know, there's something I never told you. About that text."
Your blood went cold. "What text?"
"The one you got. Right after you found out you were pregnant. The one that made you decide to disappear."
You remembered that text—short, brutal, devastating. It had come from an unknown number, but the message had been clear enough: He doesn't want kids. Never has. Do yourself a favor and disappear before he does.
You'd been two months pregnant, scared, hormonal, and already feeling insecure about Lewis's commitment. The text had felt like confirmation of your worst fears.
"What about it?" you asked carefully.
"I never thought it sounded like him," Gabriel said. "I mean, I never met the guy before today, but from everything you told me about him... the Lewis you described wasn't the kind of man who'd send a text like that. He would have said it to your face."
"Gabriel—"
"I'm just saying, maybe it's time to ask some questions. Starting with who sent that text and why."
You stared at him, your heart hammering against your ribs. You'd never questioned the text, had been too hurt and scared and overwhelmed to think beyond getting away, protecting yourself and the baby you were carrying.
But now...
Now you couldn't stop thinking about the way Lewis had looked at Luna. Not with the polite interest of a stranger, but with something that looked almost like recognition. Like he was seeing something he'd been missing without knowing it.
"It doesn't matter," you said finally, but the words felt hollow even to your own ears.
"Doesn't it?" Gabriel stood and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb Luna. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like it matters a hell of a lot. To both of you."
You didn't answer. Couldn't answer. Because deep down, buried under four years of hurt and anger and carefully constructed walls, you knew he was right.
It mattered.
Lewis mattered.
And Luna... Luna deserved better than the half-truths and careful omissions you'd been feeding her about her father.
"She asked me yesterday why she doesn't have a daddy like the other kids at preschool," you said quietly.
Gabriel's expression softened. "What did you tell her?"
"That some families are different. That she has me and Uncle Gabe and Grandma and Grandpa, and that's enough." You looked down at your sleeping daughter, at the peaceful expression on her face. "But I don't think it's going to be enough much longer."
"She's getting older. Starting to notice things. Starting to ask questions."
"I know." You sighed, feeling the weight of four years of decisions settling on your shoulders. "I just... I built this life for us, Gabe. This safe, stable life where no one can hurt us. Where I don't have to worry about someone deciding we're not worth the trouble."
"And what if he doesn't? What if he surprises you?"
You thought about that for a long moment, remembering the Lewis you'd fallen for all those years ago. Not the public figure, not the seven-time world champion, but the man who'd held you after nightmares, who'd listened to your stories about growing up with immigrant parents who'd worked three jobs to give you opportunities they'd never had. The man who'd made you laugh until your sides hurt and then made love to you like you were something precious.
But that man had also made it clear that racing came first. Always. That he wasn't looking for anything serious, anything that might interfere with his career. That what you had was fun, but it wasn't forever.
You'd accepted that. Had told yourself you were fine with it. Until you'd seen those two pink lines and realized that everything had changed.
"I can't risk it," you said finally. "I can't risk her getting attached and then having him decide we're not worth the disruption to his perfect life."
Gabriel was quiet for a moment, then reached over and squeezed your hand. "You know I'll support whatever you decide. But babe? You can't run forever. And maybe... maybe it's time to stop."
You squeezed his hand back, grateful for his unwavering friendship, for the way he'd stepped up to help you raise Luna without question or judgment. Gabriel was the closest thing to a father Luna had ever known, and you loved him for it.
But looking down at your daughter—at the stubborn set of her jaw that was pure Lewis Hamilton—you couldn't shake the feeling that your carefully constructed world was about to come crashing down.
Whether you were ready for it or not.
Luna stirred in her sleep, murmuring something unintelligible, and you smoothed her hair back again.
"Just you and me, baby girl," you whispered, the words feeling more like a prayer than a promise. "Just like it's always been."
But even as you said it, you couldn't escape the memory of Lewis's face when he'd looked at Luna. The confusion, the recognition, the something that had looked almost like longing.
And deep down, in a place you refused to acknowledge, you wondered if "just you and me" was ever going to be enough.
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Saturday - Qualifying Day
Lewis should have been focused.
Q3 was in two hours, the car was still handling like a drunk elephant, and he needed every ounce of concentration to drag a decent lap time out of the SF-25. Instead, he was standing in the Ferrari garage, staring at his phone screen where a text from his stylist about Monday's Met Gala fitting went unread.
The Met Gala. Christ. He was supposed to be excited about it—co-chairing the event was a massive honor, and the custom Wales Bonner piece they'd designed for him was genuinely stunning. But every time he tried to think about New York, about the red carpet, about anything beyond this weekend, his mind drifted back to you.
To the way you'd looked holding Luna yesterday. To the familiar set of the little girl's jaw. To the way something had shifted in his chest when she'd looked at him with those big, curious eyes.
"Lewis?" Angela appeared at his elbow, tablet in hand. "Fred wants to go over the setup one more time before we head to the grid."
"Right. Yeah." He pocketed his phone and tried to focus on the data Angela was showing him—tire pressures, wing adjustments, brake balance. All the technical minutiae that usually grounded him, gave him something concrete to focus on.
But even the numbers seemed to blur together.
"You sure you're alright?" Angela's voice was gentle but concerned. "Because if you're not feeling it today, we can—"
"I'm fine." The words came out sharper than he intended, and he immediately felt like shit for snapping at her. "Sorry. I'm just... I don't know. Off."
Angela studied him for a moment, then glanced around the garage to make sure they weren't being overheard. "This is about yesterday, isn't it? About her?"
Lewis didn't need to ask who she meant. "I can't stop thinking about that kid, Ange. Something about her..."
"What about her?"
"I don't know. It's probably nothing. It's just—" He ran a hand over his face, frustrated with himself for even having this conversation. "Never mind. Let's just focus on qualifying."
But before Angela could respond, there was a commotion near the entrance to the garage. One of the mechanics was kneeling down, talking to someone Lewis couldn't see, his voice gentle and amused.
"Hey there, little one. I think you might be lost."
Lewis looked over and felt his heart stop.
Luna was standing just inside the garage entrance, wearing a tiny pink sundress and clutching what looked like a child's digital camera. Her curls were escaping from two small ponytails, and she was looking around the garage with wide-eyed fascination, completely unbothered by the fact that she was clearly somewhere she shouldn't be.
"Oh shit," Angela breathed. "Isn't that—?"
"Luna!" Lewis was moving before he realized it, crossing the garage in quick strides. The mechanic looked relieved to see someone who seemed to know the child.
"She just wandered in," the mechanic explained. "Sweet kid. Says she's looking for the red cars."
Luna looked up at Lewis, and her face broke into the biggest smile he'd ever seen.
"Car man!" she said, bouncing on her toes. "I found you!"
Lewis crouched down to her level, his heart doing something complicated in his chest. "Hey there, Luna. Where's your mama?"
Luna shrugged, seemingly unconcerned about being separated from her guardians. "She was talking to boring people. I wanted to see the cars." She held up her camera proudly. "I'm taking pictures!"
"Are you now?" Lewis couldn't help but smile. Despite the chaos this was probably causing for you and Gabe, there was something infectious about Luna's enthusiasm. "Can I see?"
Luna immediately started clicking through the photos on her camera's tiny screen, chattering away as she showed him blurry images of wheels, wings, and various pieces of equipment.
"This one's my favorite," she announced, showing him a surprisingly well-composed shot of the Ferrari logo. "It's shiny."
"That's a really good picture," Lewis said, and meant it. "You've got a good eye."
"I'm very smart," Luna said matter-of-factly. "Mama says so."
"I can tell." Lewis was studying her face as she scrolled through more photos, that nagging sense of familiarity growing stronger. There was something about the way she held her head, the shape of her nose, the stubborn set of her chin that was so—
"What's that?" Luna interrupted his thoughts, pointing at his neck.
Lewis followed her gaze and realized she was looking at his newest tattoo—the small "11 11" he'd gotten just above his Adam's apple a few months ago.
"Oh, that." He touched the spot self-consciously. "It's numbers. Can you read numbers?"
Luna nodded enthusiastically. "Eleven eleven!" she announced proudly. "I know my numbers. I can count to fifty!"
Lewis felt something cold settle in his stomach. Three-year-olds who could read numbers weren't exactly common. "Wow, that's... that's really impressive, Luna."
"I'm very smart," she repeated, then tilted her head curiously. "Why do you have eleven eleven on your neck?"
"Well," Lewis said carefully, still processing the fact that this tiny person had just read his tattoo like it was nothing, "it's a special date. November eleventh. That's my mum's birthday."
Luna's eyes went wide. "No way!" she exclaimed, loud enough that several mechanics turned to look. "That's my birthday too!"
The world stopped.
Lewis stared at her, his brain struggling to process what she'd just said. November eleventh. Luna's birthday was November eleventh.
The same day as his mother's birthday.
The same numbers he'd tattooed on his neck just months ago, thinking about family, about legacy, about the people who'd shaped him.
"Your birthday is November eleventh?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Uh-huh!" Luna was bouncing again, delighted by the coincidence. "I'm gonna be four! Mama says we're gonna have a big party with cake and balloons and everything!"
Four. She was going to be four in November.
Which meant she'd been born in November four years ago.
Which meant you'd been pregnant when you'd left him.
Which meant—
"Lewis!"
Your voice cut through the fog in his brain like a knife. He looked up to see you rushing toward them, Gabe close behind, both of you looking frantic.
"Luna Marie, what did we say about wandering off?" you scolded, but your voice was thick with relief as you scooped your daughter into your arms.
"I wanted to see the cars, Mama," Luna said, completely unrepentant. "And look! The car man's mama has the same birthday as me!"
Lewis watched the color drain from your face.
"What?" you asked faintly.
"His neck tattoo!" Luna pointed at Lewis again. "It says eleven eleven, and that's my birthday! Isn't that cool, Mama?"
You looked at Lewis then, and he saw everything in your eyes—panic, fear, guilt, and something that might have been longing. Your grip on Luna tightened protectively.
"That's... that's quite a coincidence," you managed.
But Lewis was doing the math now, and it wasn't adding up to coincidence. It was adding up to something much bigger, much more complicated, much more terrifying.
November eleventh. Luna would be four in November. Which meant she'd been born in November 2021. Which meant you'd been pregnant in early 2021. Which meant—
"I should get her back," you said quickly, reading the expression on his face. "Come on, Luna. We need to find somewhere safer for you to take pictures."
"But I wanna stay with the car man!" Luna protested. "He's nice! And he has cool tattoos!"
"Luna, we need to go now," you said firmly, but gently.
Lewis stood slowly, his mind reeling. "Wait—"
"I'm sorry she bothered you," you said, not meeting his eyes. "She's usually better about staying close."
"She wasn't bothering me." Lewis's voice sounded strange to his own ears. "Actually, I was hoping we could—"
"We really need to go." You were already backing away, Luna still in your arms, Gabe flanking you like a bodyguard. "Good luck in qualifying."
And then you were gone, disappearing into the paddock crowd before Lewis could process what had just happened.
He stood there in the entrance to the Ferrari garage, surrounded by the familiar sounds of preparation and pre-qualifying tension, feeling like his entire world had just shifted on its axis.
November eleventh.
The same day as his mother's birthday.
The same numbers he'd tattooed on his neck without really knowing why.
The same date that was apparently Luna's birthday.
Luna, who could read numbers at three years old.
Luna, who had his stubborn chin and his curiosity and his—
"Lewis?" Angela's voice seemed to come from very far away. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
He turned to look at her, and Angela took a step back at whatever she saw in his expression.
"I think," Lewis said slowly, his voice hoarse, "I think I just met my daughter."
Angela's eyes went wide. "Lewis—"
"November eleventh, Ange. Her birthday is November eleventh. That's..." He touched the tattoo on his neck unconsciously. "That's not a coincidence."
"But that would mean—"
"That would mean she was pregnant when she left me." The words came out flat, emotionless, but Lewis felt anything but calm. His hands were shaking, his heart was racing, and somewhere deep in his chest, something was breaking open. "She was pregnant, and she left, and she never told me."
Angela was quiet for a long moment, watching him with concern. "What are you going to do?"
Lewis looked in the direction you'd disappeared, his mind spinning with questions and accusations and a desperate, aching need for answers.
"I don't know," he said finally. "But I'm going to find out the truth."
Even if it destroyed everything else in the process.
Because if Luna was his daughter—if you'd been carrying his child when you'd walked away four years ago—then everything he'd believed about why you'd left, about what you'd meant to each other, about what he'd lost, was a lie.
And Lewis Hamilton had never been very good at accepting lies.
Especially when they involved the people he loved.
.........tbd
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iamred-iamyellow · 1 year ago
Text
⋆ ˚。⋆౨ৎ˚ Florida is One Hell of a Drug - [Part 2]
♥ prev | next
♥ series masterlist | main masterlist
♥ pairing: lando norris x fem!reader
♥ chapter two synopsis: lando hard launched his status as a girl dad, throwing all the fans into a loop. hopefully this visit to the miami gp will bring you closer two together as co-parents
♥ smau + written - fc: girls on pinterest + madison beer for paparazzi pics - none of the pictures are mine
♥ warnings: swearing and suggestive jokes !!!
♥ a/n: I'm literally honored that y'all have been enjoying this series. sorry it took me so long to write this part/chapter!
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lilyzneimer 🤍
comments are limited
alexandra_saintmleux she's so cute 🥺
logansargeant I'll take a babysitting shift 🙋‍♂️
oscarpiastri I'm the favorite uncle piss off
logansargeant chill damn
✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧
Things between you and Lando were still pretty awkward. After all, if someone asked the two of you the night you hooked up where you’d be in a year, a flight to Miami with your newborn baby would not be your answer. You didn’t trust him very much yet, but who could blame you? You expected him to do everything in his power to stay away from you and Camila. But here he was, flying the two of you out to watch him race. Lando really wanted to prove to you that he was all in. That he wasn’t going to take off running the minute things got hard for you two as co-parents. 
You were extremely grateful that Oscar and Lily were on the same jet as you. This made the atmosphere not too uncomfortable. Lily was rocking Camila in her arms as her and Oscar talked a little about Mark Webber. You debated whether you should jump into their conversation after having an extensive f1 research night with your best friend the day before, but you decided to just sit in silence.
You caught Lando staring at you and let out a sigh. This was going to be a long flight.
-
He scanned the keycard to a nice suite in the same hotel the grid was staying in.
"This will be your room," he said, wandering inside. "Don't worry about where Camila will sleep, the hotel provided a crib."
"Thank you," you said genuinely. He was trying to be thoughtful.
"If you need anything, you have my number." Lando said before leaving the room.
You sat on the edge of your bed and pulled out your phone to check your notifications.
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They already found you? And they thought you were a wag? Damn the paparazzi is quick.
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user6 I found y/n’s instagram before it went private. How is she so gorgeous?
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user8 I’m obsessed with herrrr
user12 she’s so aesthetic
user4 new favorite wag
✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧
-Race Day-
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The last 20 laps of the race were driving you absolutely insane. You watched closely as Lando started to pull away from Max second by second. Your leg was shaking and you wondered why this was so nerve racking.
19 laps left. 18 laps left. 15 laps left. 10 laps left. 5 laps left.
1 lap left.
The crowd and garage erupted with cheers as Lando crossed the line in P1. You heard him screaming on the radio and couldn't help but smile. Lando Norris, the father of your daughter, is now a Formula 1 race winner.
✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧
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mclarenracingf1 P1 BOYSS
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user6 LANDO’S A GIRL DAD 😭
user8 his gf is so pretty
user10 SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP
user5 babe wake up Lando just hard launched his status as girl dad
user7 HE'S NOT THE STEP DAD HE'S THE DAD THAT STEPPED UPP
user3 @/user7 PREACH
user2 never change, mclaren admin
user1 screaming, crying, throwing up
user9 lets go lando, lando is ok
user11 lets go lando, he is here to stay!!!
user4 he has a daughter 🥺
user12 my heart belongs to the dads of the grid
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-Post Race Driver Reactions-
“Lando, great race. How does it feel to not only get your first win but have your daughter and partner here with you?" 
“Oh uhm, she’s not my partner.” he pressed his lips together. “But, yeah it feels great. It’s been a long time coming but we finally got the win. I hope I made my daughter and the fans proud today.”
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liked by logansargeant, landonorris, lilyzneimer, and 493,559 more
yourusername logan got me a bouquet 🥰 oh also oscar got camila some stuff too
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logansargeant @/oscarpiastri look who's the favorite uncle now
user7 please 😭
user4 the girls are fightinggg
user3 she made her account public again yay <3
user9 ok but that's so cute :(
user8 loscar as uncles >>>
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You and Lando walked through the sliding doors of the 5 star hotel you were staying at.
"Some of the other drivers and I are gonna go out tonight if you'd like to come? I'm sure they wouldn't mind." he rubbed the back of his neck.
You nodded towards Camila who was in your arms as a silent "I have to take care of her."
He pulled his phone out quickly, “I’m sure I can find someone who can-”
“No, it's ok. Go enjoy yourself.” you said, shaking your head and pushing his phone back down. “Not too much, though. Don’t want you ending up with another unplanned kid.”  
The comment took Lando aback but drew a laugh out of him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Congrats on your win.” you smiled, walking back to your room.
-
Later that night you laid down in your hotel room bed, scrolling through your feed. Dozens of pictures and videos of Lando popped up. Camila made a squealing noise in the portable crib beside you.
"I know, right?" you said to her with a laugh.
You stared at one picture that he looked particularly good in. You couldn't pretend like he wasn't attractive.
"Alright," you sighed, and placed your phone down. "Goodnight, mija." you leaned over, kissed her forehead, and switched off the bedside lamp.
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taglist; @hc-dutch, @papaya-twinks, @2pagenumb, @formulaal, @erin-odonnell04, @drunkinthemiddleoftheday, | @kissesandmartinis, @ironmaiden1313, @six-call, @wolflover384, @tremendousstarlighttragedy, | @ilivbullyingjeongin, @celestialend, @silentreader128, @wolflover384, @ellesssssxzxz | @clowngirlsstuff, @ln4smiamitrophy, @whoneedsgeorge, @chezmardybum, @warlike-morning, | @gigicisneros, @hard4ndsoft, @eveninggstar, @jolixtreesunn, @acesofspadess,| @formulaonebuff, @notpeachybby, @shesmugirl, @mxdi0, @ririyulife, | @kravitzwhore, @bellinghambby22, @helaenatargaryensfavoritebug, @maplesyrupsainz, @harrysdimple05, | @pippyth3hippy, @noneofyourfbusinessworld,
@littlegrapejuice, | @majx00, | @si1ver06
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landopoet · 5 months ago
Text
two prizes.
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pairing lando norris x journalist!reader
warnings smut, oral (fem receiving), mentions of alcohol
synopsis that day was not the first time you and lando had met, and he helps you remember that
author’s note posting my older works, thanks to @clovermoters for the collage up top!
Excitement pulsed through your veins at the mere sound of engines roaring.
The amount of people trying to push past you made you anxious, but you knew it was all part of the experience. Everyone was bunching up to watch one of the greatest events of all time— the Miami GrandPrix.
Once you make it through the crowd, avoiding elbows and shoulders of people much taller and energetic than you, the entrance that you need comes into view.
You weren’t just excited for the interviews you were going to watch up close, but also the entire concept of the race. The hustle of engineers in all these garages, working their hardest to get the drivers in and out of the pits with minimal time to waste. Not to mention the drivers themselves, having to sit in the cars for multiple hours over the race weekend with no complaints— they chose to do this, they deal with the consequences.
That’s exactly what excited you. The reasoning for their choice to do this, you wanted to ask each and every one of them why they wanted to do this, what was so interesting?
You guessed their answer would be the same as yours if you were asked why you became a sports journalist.
Keeping your amazement at bay, you observed the race, focused on everything going on even though it was a lot to keep up with. But that’s exactly what you were there for.
You were sitting in the grandstands, intently watching the cars fly past you, when your phone rang. The caller ID said it was your coworker who had also been at the race but disappeared about ten minutes ago.
“Hello?”
She sounded distressed when you heard her voice. “Hey, love. I was wondering if you could take over the post-race interviews?”
Today was supposed to be a sort of intern day for you, meaning you were just going to watch your colleague interview the drivers and better understand what the etiquette is for it. You hadn’t expected to have your first interview today.
“Uh, why?” You asked, in a whisper. “You know I’ve never interviewed anyone before, right?”
“So?” She seemed much more confident in you than you were in yourself. “You’ve studied journalism for a few years now, yeah? I don’t think you’d have taken an internship at SkySports for nothing.”
“I mean, I guess?” You shrug. “I’m not sure if I’m ready to speak to actual drivers, though. What if I make a fool of myself?”
“You won’t if you remember that they’re just people doing their jobs, and you’re doing your job by asking them questions.” She makes a good point and you sigh in defeat.
“Alright, I’ll do it. Send over the information you’ve written.”
“Sorry.” You hear her slightly laugh. “You gotta fend for yourself with that one, hun. It’s a cruel world we live in. Cheers.”
With that, the call ended and you were left with nothing but anxiety weighing on your shoulders. The rest of the race seemed to fly by in mere minutes, your mind too focused on the pressure of your first ever interview.
Well, not first ever.
You imagined the day would come sooner or later, so you’d practise a conversation with one of the drivers by speaking to yourself in the mirror. That, and watching multiple interviews through the years, soaking up every bit of information you could about the process of it.
Before you knew it, you were standing in a sea of people with their cameras, waiting for the drivers to make their way to you.
It wasn’t that nerve wracking when you actually started talking to them, and by the time you got to Daniel, you had lost all feelings of anxiety, instead laughing along to his jokes.
You thought so, at least. A feeling of intimidation crawled up your spine when your eyes locked with Lando Norris, a driver for Mclaren. You noticed the piercing look from across the room as he spoke to a different interviewer, his green pupils tracking your every move as you spoke to Oscar.
The interview with Oscar wraps up and he begins turning away from you. “Good luck on your next race!”
Oscar smiled at you as he walked off to somewhere you could only guess.
If you had been anxious before, you were probably five times as anxious now, because Oscar Piastri leaving the spot in front of you meant that Lando Norris would be replacing him. And, for whatever reason, he was making you incredibly nervous.
You looked down at the ground as Lando approached you, waiting to hear what you had to say. You couldn’t bear looking up at him, knowing he’s already staring at you. But it was part of your job and you had to stay professional.
“Hello, Lando.” You said, cheerily.
“Hi,” he grinned at you, sweaty and all, his dimples appearing for a split second. “How are you?”
“I’m alright, thanks, how was the race?” You asked with a smile, ignoring the butterflies in the pit of your stomach when he smiled at you again.
Lando’s green eyes studied your face, soaking up each detail he missed since the last time he had seen you. He knows you don’t remember him and he doesn’t need you to, it’s kind of nice to feel something without reciprocation from the other.
After a long while, Lando shrugged. “Yeah, uh, the race was pretty good, I mean, I got first place, so I’d say it’s good. Y’know, aside from Oscar’s incident, but that’s not something we can predict, it just happens.”
You watched intently as he explained the race, your eyes oddly drawn to his lips. The pattern at which they move, and the tempting way he pokes his tongue out to tap the corners of his lips, makes you weak.
This was horribly unprofessional of you, and you knew that, but the charms of this young british racer had worked their magic on you, and you weren’t strong enough to resist it.
You felt like it was just the two of you in the room and both of you were trying your damn best not to break, one for more reasons than the other.
“Yeah, it seems like it was a lucky race for you, the pace of your car was incredible to watch.” You pointed out, looking down at the race data on your clipboard. “The RedBull’s were a bit slower this race, do you think that gave you an advantage?”
“Well, they already win races left, right and centre. They have to be bad sometimes.” Lando stifled a laugh. “But, uh, I don’t know. I think it all came down to the car and my ability to control it. The pace was insane, honestly, I wasn’t expecting it to be faster than a RedBull.”
The joke made you giggle and you quickly hid your face by looking away for a mere moment, in an attempt to recollect yourself. Thankfully, none of the cameras were on your face.
“Or it’s just pure talent, I’d say.” You look back up at him, his eyes never once leaving your face. He’s so smiley and it’s contagious, so you can’t help but smile at him, too. “Any plans for the celebration? You must be feeling ecstatic about your first win, so I assume the celebration must be as big as this.”
Lando puts the tube of his water bottle to his lips and takes a long sip, eyes still glued to you. He wasn’t even blinking, far too focused on the shape of your lips and how good they felt that night. That one night you can’t seem to remember.
“I’m not entirely sure, if I’m honest.” He shrugs, tongue poking out to lick his bottom lip before he takes it between his teeth, biting back the widest grin you’ve ever seen on his face. “I still have to call my mum and siblings.”
“I’m sure they’re incredibly proud of you,” you smile, politely. He’s still intently looking at you, cheeks now burning red at your comment accompanied by his massive grin.
It was time to wrap up your chat with Lando, but, in all honesty, you really didn’t want to. You felt something brewing in your chest at the mere feeling of his eyes burning into you, and it excited you.
Still, you ignore it. You had to stay professional, even if it was all too much to handle. “It was lovely chatting with you, Lando. Congratulations and good luck next race.”
“Will you be interviewing me next time, too?” Lando asks, making no move to walk away just yet. His eyes narrowed onto yours when you looked back at him, an adorably surprised look on your face.
“Uh,” you look away for a moment, not sure what to say. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“I look forward to seeing you again. Maybe.” He gave you another cocky smirk and nodded his head as a farewell, leaving you nothing but a blushing mess in the media pen.
After a plethora of interviews back to back, you were tired beyond words. Your feet were sore, your back hurt, you felt your eyelids close if you stood still for longer than two seconds. The image of your soft hotel bed made you motivated to keep moving through the building and find your way out.
“Oh, hey!” A familiar voice stopped you in your tracks. “Y/N, was it?”
Your eyes find their way to the person behind you and you’re happy to see that it’s Daniel. “Daniel! Hi, nice to see you again.” You extended a hand to shake and he smiled as he squeezed it.
“Was lovely talking to you earlier. You asked such great questions, honestly, it made me really think about my answers, y’know?” You hadn’t noticed how both of you started walking again and he kept up with your pace. “How long have you been doing this?”
“Oh, interviewing?” You ask and he nods eagerly, with the energy of a little boy. “This was my first official day of interviewing, actually. I had to step in for my colleague.”
“No way.” He muses, jaw slack and eyes glimmering with interest. “The way you interacted with me had me thinking you were carrying a load of experience.”
You stifle a laugh and watch the path ahead. “Yeah, well. I practised a lot in my room. You have race sims, I have a mirror and a hairbrush for a microphone.”
Daniel’s laugh echoed in the mostly empty area around you. “You’re funny, too.” He muses once again, shocked by how much fun you can be. “Listen, I know it’s not professional to ask this, but are you free tonight?”
“Oh, uh,” you look up at him and hesitate. “I’m not interested in-“
“No, no,” Daniel waves his hands in the air as if to stop the words spilling from your mouth. “God, no. I was going to ask if you’d like to come to the club later, all of the drivers are gonna be there to celebrate Lando’s win. It could be fun.”
You paused in your steps, brows furrowing as you felt a beam of energy climb up your spine. All of a sudden, your bed didn’t seem like the comfiest thing in the world and you were willing to exchange it for a pair of heels and a dress.
“I’d like that, yeah.” You smiled at Daniel and he reciprocated the gesture.
He gives you a piece of paper with something scribbled on it and you gladly pluck it from his fingers. “Shoot me a text when you’re ready, I’ll give you a ride to the club. Cheers.”
And with that, he disappeared into the car park, the only remainder of his friendly presence being his lingering smell in the air and the scribbled number on the back of a grocery store coupon.
“Thanks, mate.”
Lando’s hand felt heavy as he shook it with someone he barely knew, congratulating him on the win. He’s been stuck in this large group of people for way too long, desperately looking for an escape. And, eventually, he found it— you.
His eyes have been stuck to you for the past fifteen minutes, patiently waiting for the people to finish congratulating him so he could finally talk to you.
When the perfect moment arose, Lando swiftly shimmied between the dancing bodies and made his way to the bar. You were still sitting there, looking as beautiful as the last time he saw you, but now you were right in front of him and he didn’t know what to do with himself.
“Fancy seeing you here,” Lando’s voice startles you when he plops down in a bar stool beside you.
You smile at him, feeling the same anxiety crawl up your spine as the last time you saw him. “I’d say the same, but this feels like the perfect place for a race winner.”
“I honestly hated it before,” he shrugged, looking out into the crowd. “I used to party after a podium, second place being the best I’ve ever had.”
“But now you’re here as a winner.” You’re still looking at him when he turns back around. There’s something so nostalgic about the way he looks at you, almost as if you’ve already been there and seen him before. “A victory looks good on you.”
“Yeah?” He flashes a grin your way, raising a brow. “I’ll try to win more then. Maybe I’ll get to see you again that way.”
“I’m free whenever you want to see me,” you blurt. Lando’s eyebrows raise with surprise when you say that and he bursts into a small laugh when you start flailing your hands around in the air. “Sorry, that’s so unprofessional, I didn’t mean to–“
“It’s fine,” he assures you. “I was actually going to ask you if you wanted to get out of here. But that’s so unprofessional of me.”
“Mr. Norris!” You exclaim with a faux gasp. Lando watches with an amused grin on his face as you smile back at him. “I’d like that very much.”
It didn’t take long for both of you to swivel your way past the drunk people in the club and find yourselves in a cab. Lando’s hand made a home on your thigh and you didn’t mind. It felt warm, secure and turned you on when he inched it closer to the hem of your dress.
Time flew fast in the company of a race winner, especially one as charming and attractive as Lando. You didn’t realise how many hours had passed after you had left the club and, frankly, you didn’t really care.
The moments spent with him felt somehow nostalgic, as if you had felt this way before. But you’re sure you just dreamt it. There’s no way you’ve met Lando before and didn’t remember it.
It felt silly to think that, so you just ignored that thought and continued watching the intoxicating way his lips moved as he spoke. He’s been talking about something for the past five minutes and you didn’t hear a word of it, being far too focused on the pattern of his freckles, the dip of his nose and the gentleness of his eyes when he looked at you.
“What’s on your mind?” He asked, voice gentle and cautious.
You bit back a smile, eyes flickering between his eyes and lips. “You.”
The nostalgic feeling snuck its way into the back of your mind when he kissed you, his lips and hands feeling like a long lost home. You somehow already knew the melody of his breathing and the pattern of his hair, the familiarity of his kiss starting a fire in your chest. You felt the warmth of his lust spread through your torso, creeping up your neck, softly toying with the giggle in your throat.
Stars spackled on the inside of your eyelids and the harmonious sounds leaving your lips finally drew you back to that night.
Warm hands. Gentle strokes and soft kisses. Careful fingertips trailing their way down your hips. Lando’s tongue danced on your aching bud and you felt the whole world fade away. The mere touch of his fingers on your hips to keep you still reminded you of the last time.
“Mmh, fuck.” Lando hummed against you, the vibrations sending bolts of lightning through your veins. “So good. So fucking good for me, y/n.”
His tongue swirled around your throbbing clit, bringing you that much closer to the edge. The alcohol in your system mixed with the pleasure coursing through your body was a lethal combination. Your legs shook as you felt your walls close around nothing, Lando’s mouth attached to you as if he was a starved man and you were the first thing he could get his mouth on.
“I’m- I-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before making a mess all over his goatee. He licked up every last bit of you, the sweet taste of you making a perfect combination with the aftertaste of whiskey in the back of his throat.
You stayed lying there, eyes fluttering closed and lips parted, deep breaths inflating your chest. Lando watched you, green eyes soaking in every inch of you— he wasn’t sure if you’d remember him this time, so he made the most of every moment spent with you.
After a while of him watching you, you felt Lando get up and come back in a few minutes, a damp towel in his hands. He touched your most sensitive parts with the weight of nothing, carefulness sewn into every movement he made. At that point, you were drifting in and out of consciousness, not fully knowing when the bed dipped under Lando’s weight again.
You felt his arms wrap around you and pull you in, the warmth of his bare skin heating your cheek. You were hesitant to speak, cautious as to not say something wrong. So, instead of speaking, you lifted your head and connected your lips with his again, the minty taste of his lips making you smile.
“It was you.”
Lando hummed into the kiss, as if to acknowledge that it was him, but also to ask what you meant.
You pulled away, fingers immediately making home in his curls. “That night.” A familiar look painted itself across Lando’s face. “I tried so hard to remember whose lips felt like home, and only the weight of yours reminded me.”
“You were thinking about me?” Lando inquired, brushing stray strands of hair away from your face.
You nodded. “Every day since that night.”
Lando smiled before kissing you again. “You never left my mind. I kept reminiscing that night, waiting for fate to magically bring us back to one another.” He whispered against your hairline, lips pressing soft, love-filled kisses against your skin. “Didn’t expect to win two prizes in one day.”
A small laugh slipped past your lips. “What a lucky man you are, Mr. Norris.”
“The luckiest.” He hummed. “Because I finally have you.”
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rafecameronssl4t · 6 months ago
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Omg Pt 2 of unfinished lap??? Reader makes him eat his heart out looking super hot and he grovels??? PUHLEASE
Unfinished lap pt.2 || F1 driver!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader
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A/n: IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG 😭😭😭
Warnings: angst!!!!
Word count: 1,396
MASTERLIST (F1 driver!Rafe x reader au masterlist)
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PART ONE HERE
The Monaco Grand Prix was undoubtedly one of the most highly anticipated races of the year, and it was clear why. The energy was electric from the moment you stepped into the paddock. Journalists swarmed, eager to capture every headline-worthy moment, while paparazzi darted about, snapping photos of drivers and their glamorous entourages.
Team crew members hustled through the maze of garages, their focused expressions a stark contrast to the spectacle of it all. It was a world that thrived on chaos, glitz, and precision—a breathtaking display of Formula 1’s allure. Austin had accompanied you this time, his calm presence a stark contrast to the whirlwind around you.
It had been a week since you last spoke to Rafe, your communication routed exclusively through Austin. The distance had been intentional. After the heated fallout at the Miami Grand Prix, you had felt the need to step away, to find a moment to breathe. So, you flew back home for a few days, seeking solace in the familiar before making your way to France just 24 hours ago.
Of course, your arrival had been made seamless, courtesy of Rafe's private jet. It was his unspoken way of showing care, even in the midst of a strained silence. He had respected your desire for space, understanding the weight of what had transpired between you. Yet, the air still felt charged, the unresolved tension from Miami lingering like an invisible thread pulling at both of you.
Now, standing in the heart of Monaco’s bustling paddock, you couldn’t help but wonder how this weekend would unfold. The aftermath of Miami still clung to you like a stubborn shadow. Your abrupt departure before the race had even ended—and without Rafe by your side—had set social media ablaze. Fans were quick to notice, flooding timelines with speculation.
Did you and Rafe have a falling out? Was this the beginning of cracks in what many saw as a perfect relationship? The whispers of gossip added another layer to the weight you already carried. As you stepped into the paddock, the flashing cameras were almost blinding. Paparazzi immediately swarmed, their voices rising as they called your name. You offered them a small, polite smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes but was enough to quell the barrage of questions—for now.
The murmurs and shutter clicks followed you like a persistent hum, a reminder that every move you made here was under scrutiny. Austin, always the reliable mediator, had informed you that Rafe was already at the paddock. His presence was palpable even without seeing him, a tension that hung in the air. But finding him wasn’t your priority at the moment. The thought of facing him so soon felt daunting, not when your emotions were still tangled from the events in Miami.
Instead, you sought comfort in familiar company, meeting up with some friends at Ferrari’s hospitality complex. The atmosphere was lively but far more relaxed than the frenzy outside. You eased into the plush seating, a chilled glass of champagne in hand, while plates of gourmet food were passed around. The warm laughter and light conversation helped loosen the knot in your chest, even if only temporarily.
Yet, even as you tried to immerse yourself in the moment, you couldn’t ignore the faint buzz of your phone in your bag.
Rafe
Austin says you're here, where are you?
Y/n
Hospitality.
Without waiting for Rafe's response, you silenced your phone, flipping it face down on the table with a snap. You didn’t want to be distracted, not when there were conversations to be had with friends who actually cared—or at least, that’s what you told yourself as you leaned back into the easy rhythm of small talk with Sofia and the others. Your smile was polite, but hollow, just like the words coming out of your mouth.
Inside, you were still seething, and nothing about the pre-race buzz seemed to settle the storm inside you. As the race approached, the paddock swelled with even more energy. "Y/n! Over here!" You hear paparazzi call out as you turn your head to see them all flashing their camera as you give them a wave. "They grow more obsessive over you every day, I swear," Sofia chuckles, as you let out a soft snort, knowing this dress was your petty version of a revenge dress.
The air crackled with excitement, but you were numb to it, your thoughts wrapped tightly around everything that had been left unsaid between you and Rafe. Sofia nudged you, a knowing glint in her eyes, breaking your daze. You frowned, her questioning look making you snap out of your thoughts. "What?" you asked.
She nodded subtly, gesturing with her chin, and you followed her gaze. Your heart clenched. Rafe was approaching, his racing suit snug against his toned frame, the helmet in his hand an afterthought. His eyes, however, were locked onto you with an intensity that made you want to look away. He walked through the chaos of the grid like he was moving in slow motion, cutting through the noise, determined.
The sea of people, the flashes of cameras, none of it seemed to matter. It was like he was trying to pull you back in, but you weren’t sure you wanted to be pulled anymore. Sofia gave you a small, almost sympathetic smile before slipping away toward her boyfriend. You stayed rooted to the spot, knowing full well what was coming. Your eyes met his when he finally reached you, and the force of his gaze nearly knocked the air out of your lungs.
There was something there—something unreadable. You hated how it made you feel. You offered him a smile, but you knew it didn’t reach your eyes. It was stiff, polite, barely enough to hide the way you felt. He saw it, of course, because he always did. He could read you better than anyone else. “Good luck,” you said, the words coming out more as a formality than genuine well-wishing. Your voice was even, but it didn’t carry the warmth it usually did when you said it to him.
You stepped closer, placing your hands lightly on his shoulders, doing it out of habit rather than any lingering affection. It was an automatic move, like you’d done it a thousand times before. Rising onto your toes, you kissed his cheek. The kiss was longer than it should have been, the seconds stretching into an eternity as your lips lingered. But it didn’t feel like affection. It felt like something you didn’t want to face.
“Wait.” His voice sliced through the noise, barely audible over the rising hum of the grid as his hand grips your forearm. Your body froze at the sound of it, tension building in your chest. You hated how much it affected you. You hadn’t wanted to see him, hadn’t wanted to be anywhere near him after the things he’d said, yet here he was, pulling you back into his orbit with just two words. You looked over your shoulder, meeting his gaze.
The vulnerability there was almost too much. You turned, your gaze cold. "What?" you snapped, not hiding the edge of frustration in your voice. “Can we talk, please?” he asked, the words soft, almost pleading. His face was a mix of urgency and something you didn’t want to acknowledge. You wanted to scream at him. To tell him you weren’t some emotional ragdoll he could throw aside whenever it suited him. But all that came out was silence.
You glanced around at the sea of people—team members huddled together, journalists with cameras in hand, all capturing this moment. Everything about this was wrong. You could already feel the eyes on you both, the pressure mounting. This was the last place you wanted to have this conversation. "Right now?" you asked, your voice biting. "But—"
Before you could finish, Austin materialized at Rafe’s side, his timing as impeccable as always. You almost resented him for it. “Rafe, the anthem is happening soon,” he said, his voice carrying a firm but unspoken reminder that the world didn’t stop for personal drama. He looked at you briefly, offering a polite smile, but it felt more like an apology for the situation than anything else.
“Go,” you said, your voice colder than you meant it to be. You gently moved his hand from your forearm, the briefest contact of your fingers almost too much. His touch lingered even after he let go, the warmth of it burning into you. His shoulders sagged slightly, a deep exhale leaving his lips. He nodded, but it was a hollow gesture, a promise that didn’t carry weight. “After the race,” he muttered, his voice low, as if he were speaking more to himself than to you.
~
Rafe’s victory, though impressive, only seemed to amplify the tension between you both. As you stood near the podium, clapping along with the others, you felt the anger simmering beneath your skin. The sound of Ferrari’s team celebrating—their cheers, the clapping—was a distant noise, something that barely registered to you. Rafe stood there, triumphant, raising his trophy high as the crowd cheered around him.
But despite his success, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything other than the sharp ache that had settled in your chest. Your smile, if you could even call it that, was a thin mask you wore out of habit, an automatic response to the situation. You tried to focus on the celebrations, but every part of you was focused on him. You could feel his eyes on you, the weight of his gaze intense and unyielding.
You stared at the big screen, watching his expression shift as he looked directly down at you, a brief flicker of something—regret, maybe—flashing across his face. You hated it. You hated how that tiny moment made you question everything. You refused to acknowledge it, refused to let yourself feel anything beyond the cold distance you had wrapped around your emotions.
Instead, you kept your focus on the screen, acting like you didn’t care. You could almost hear his voice in your mind, calling out to you, asking for forgiveness, but you shut it out. The ache from his words—those careless, hurtful things he’d said—was still so raw, and you were not ready to let it go. The second the podium ceremony ended, you wasted no time in leaving the crowd behind.
You moved quickly through the cluster of team members, your steps deliberate as you walked away, trying to escape the noise and the energy that had once felt like home.
~
You hesitated outside the door to Rafe’s private room, your hand hovering over the handle. The paddock’s noise was a faint hum in the distance now, replaced by the deafening sound of your own thoughts. You didn’t want to be here—every fibre of your being told you to turn around, to walk away, to protect yourself. But you also couldn’t leave things like this. Not after everything.
With a deep breath, you pushed the door open. The room was dimly lit, quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. Rafe sat on the small couch, his racing suit unzipped and hanging around his waist, his head resting in his hands. The sight of him—so unguarded, so unlike the Rafe everyone else knew—sent a pang through your chest.
His head snapped up when he heard the door close behind you. His blue eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension was thick, suffocating, as he straightened up, his gaze flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “You didn’t stay,” he said finally, his voice low, almost accusing.
You crossed your arms over your chest, the anger bubbling up again. “What did you expect, Rafe? A standing ovation for the way you spoke to me in Miami?” His jaw tightened, and he stood, his movements stiff and deliberate as he closed some of the space between you. “I wasn’t thinking straight,” he admitted, his voice strained. “I said things I shouldn’t have.”
“You think an apology fixes everything?” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended. “Do you even understand how much you hurt me? I was trying to help you, Rafe. To be there for you. And you acted like I was just… in your way. Like I didn’t matter.” His shoulders sagged, and he ran a hand through his messy hair, his frustration evident. “You don’t think I know that?” he shot back, his voice rising slightly.
“I know I messed up, okay? I know I was out of line. But I didn’t mean any of it.” “Then why say it?” you countered, your voice cracking despite your best efforts to stay composed. “Why do you always push me away when all I’m trying to do is be there for you?” Rafe let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Because I don’t know how to deal with this!” he admitted, his voice raw.
“I don’t know how to let people in without feeling like they’re gonna see how much of a failure I feel like sometimes. It’s easier to shut you out than to risk you seeing that.” Your heart clenched at his admission, but the sting of his earlier words still lingered. “You don’t get to make that choice for me, Rafe,” you said softly, your tone firm. “You don’t get to decide how much of you I can handle. That’s not fair. Not to me, and not to us.”
He stepped closer, his hands twitching at his sides as if he wanted to reach for you but didn’t quite dare. “You’re right,” he said, his voice quieter now. “It’s not fair. And I’m sorry. I don’t know how to fix this, but I want to. I need to.”You searched his face, looking for any sign of insincerity, but all you saw was regret. And fear. “I don’t need you to be perfect, Rafe,” you said, your voice softening slightly. “I just need you to let me in. To stop shutting me out every time things get hard.”
He nodded, his throat working as he swallowed hard. “I’ll try,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how yet, but I’ll try. Because losing you… I can’t do that. I won’t.” Your resolve wavered, the walls you’d built around yourself beginning to crack. “I’m holding you to that,” you said quietly, letting him close the remaining distance between you.
Rafe’s hand hovered near yours for a moment before he finally took it, his grip tentative but steady. “You deserve better,” he said, his voice laced with a sincerity that made your chest ache. “And I’m going to do better. I promise.”The anger and hurt didn’t disappear completely, but for the first time that day, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, things could change.
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lilghostiequinni · 3 months ago
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Just Another
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Main Masterlist Lando Masterlist
Pairing: Girlfriend!female reader x Lando Norris
Warnings: Fluffy, None
Summary: Another trip after another win. Every time Lando won a race, you couldn't be happier each time, especially after the Netherlands when you found out that Miami led to the start of your family, but the trips over the winter break would be hard, especially being just under 8 months pregnant.
Requested: NO / yes
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You loved the little trips that Lando planned whenever it was possible to sneak away, even just for a couple days or a weekend.
It was his way of showing how much he loved you.
You would do similar things; well, the surprise part was the only thing that was similar.
You would randomly buy him something that you thought he would like or make his favorite dish, especially after a tough race.
At Maimi, when Lando won, it was a night of drinks and intimate touches.
It may have appeared that the both of you were drunk, beyond drunk, when really you were both barely tipsy, just high off the adrenaline of the win.
Especially Lando; there was nothing like his first win, his maiden win, in Formula 1.
The two of couldn't keep your hands off each other that night.
When you went back to the hotel, it resulted in a night to start the rest of your lives together.
At the Netherlands, Lando had left earlier than you on race day, wanting to get a bit of a head start to the day.
You stayed in the hotel room for about an hour before you left for the track; you were making sure that what you felt was happening with your body was happening.
The last few weeks, you felt a little under the weather, and your best friend joked about it being a side-effect from Maimi.
Normally, you wouldn't take her jokes seriously, especially the ones about you being pregnant, but this one felt different.
So you took a couple tests in the hour before you left after Lando had left.
You didn't tell him anything about you possibly being pregnant because you didn't want to worry him at the current moment with him being so close to another win.
You planned to tell him after the race.
When he would finally have more than a week or two for a break, and would have time to process what you were going to tell him.
A time when it would be your little secret from the world, then maybe after Singapore was done, you would tell your families, then after that, just wait for the world to pick up on the not-so-subtle clues you would leave.
You sat anxiously watching the race.
You watched as Lando climbed away from Max, making a 30-second gap at one point, ending the race 22 seconds ahead of the current world champion.
After the race, but before he went up to the podium, he hugged you tightly.
"Come find me after media." You whispered in his ear before you pulled away.
Lando nodded, kissed your cheek, and went and did his rather less favorite part of the job.
When the podium, celebrations, and media were over, but before the team photo, Lando found you on his side of the garage, talking with Jon about something; he didn't know what because when you saw him, you smiled brightest and stopped your conversation.
You ran to him and though your arms around his neck and wrapped your legs around his waist, not caring about the champagne on your clothes.
"I need to tell you something." You told him after hugging him a bit, while he was still holding you.
You got down, and walked back over to where you were and grabbed a box and brought it to him for him to open.
When Lando opened it, his jaw dropped.
He had looked at the box you had given him, then looked up at you and put the box on the nose of the car next to you before going over to you and grabbing your face, bringing you in for a kiss.
When he pulled away, he asked with his eyes if it was true.
You nodded and bit your lip just before Lando pulled you close again and kissed you impossibly harder.
That was almost three months ago, and you were now closing in on your due date and barely wanted to travel; it was hard to travel far because of how big your stomach was.
You had really popped in the last two-ish weeks, you had basically woken up and said goodbye to seeing your feet.
Trips were getting harder, but Lando always found a way to make getting there a trip in itself while also not putting your health in any danger.
You mean the world to him, and you were literally growing an addition to his world, and he couldn't love you more.
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A/N: First in the 400 Follower Cele Driver poll
Tags: @poppyflower-22 @samantha-chicago @barcelonaloverf1life @tallrock35 @ellen3101 @llando4norris @mcmuppet @issi-loves-dannyric @1800-love-me @barcelonaloverf1life @scopeiguess @01rrdbull @charli123456789 @smashcrabsblog @hadids-world @amz824 @taetae-armyyyyy @diaryofarandomkid @watermelonslut @gigicisneros @hellothere9597
If you want to be removed from a tag list, let me know so I don't keep tagging you. If you are striked through, I don't know if you want to be tagged, but just let me know if you want me to continue or stop
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no-144444 · 2 months ago
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Omg I need more of cherry kisses
canada- faking it au
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꩜summary: you come to montreal
꩜pairing: fakeboyfriend! lando norris x fem! fakegirlfriend! actress! reader
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Canada. Your management thought it would be good to be spotted at the race since the whole hard-launch happened in Miami. You didn’t really want to come, but… you had contractual obligations to fulfil. You dragged David and Isabel with you, for moral support. They didn't know you and Lando weren’t real, but you did plan on telling them, depending on how today went. Alien: Romulus was going well, you’d just finished up filming in LA, and you had two more weeks of shooting before you moved onto another project. 
“Why do you have to do this again?” David asked, slotting into the seat beside you in the car. He was reading something on his phone, but he’d listened to enough of your bitching last night to realise you didn’t want to watch cars go around and around in oddly-shaped circles from the garage of the guy you hated. 
“Because I like Lando,” you answered plainly, ignoring how lackluster of a performance it was. 
“How much?” he mused. You gave him a look, and he held his hands up in surrender. “A lot, then.”
You chuckled. David was great. He was quickly becoming your best mate on set, second to Isabel, of course. Speaking of her, she slotted right in next to him, then closed the door. “Wow,” she sighed. “I am still exhausted.” 
“I know, right?” you turned your attention to her. “Training has been brutal.” 
The three of you ended up in a very animated conversation about how you were being beaten and bruised by your stunt coordinators, and how exhausted work had been for the past few months. 
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Lando was full of nervous energy. He paced the papaya-coloured motorhome, waiting for his PA to tell him you’d arrived. He hated this. He hated the awkward hugs and pretend kisses, he hated watching the facade fall the second the camera was down, and he hated dragging you all the way to a track just to snap some photos. Most of all, he hated the way his fans were treating you already. He’d seen  posts upon posts dissecting every single moment between the two of you, all the comments full of nasty comments and down-right abuse. 
“The car has arrived,” Harry (his PA) called from the other side of his driver’s room door. “Do you want-”
“Bring me, please,” he flung the door open and followed behind Harry. This was stupid. The way his heart was practically palpitating was stupid. The amount of anxiety and nerves in his system was stupid. Harry gave him a look, just a subtle smile, and Lando rolled his eyes. “Just… don’t want to be a dick, yeah?” 
Harry nodded, a knowing smile on his face. “I get what you mean,” he chuckled. “Just that you’re putting a lot of effort into that.”
He knew Harry was right, and he genuinely tried not to give a shit, but it wasn’t easy. You were just so… you. And he was so… him. He didn’t know how to explain it, but he wanted to impress, and he wanted you to care like he cared. “Is that a bad thing?”
“It’s a you thing,” Harry shrugged. “Maybe just… calm it a little. Don’t scare her off.” 
“I’m not going to- oh shit,” Lando slammed the door closed when he saw the first glimpse of you and your friends. God, that was a little pathetic, wasn’t it? Harry burst out laughing and Lando freezed, thinking about what he had done. “I’m so pathetic-”
“Are you actually in love with her or something?” Harry chuckled. He stopped when Lando didn’t answer. “Holy shit you are,” he gasped. “Lando, it’s part of the contract-” 
“It’s not. And I’m not, alright? Just… let me get ready for the race on my own, alright?” Lando chewed on his cheek as Harry left with a giggle. 
“I’ll send her in,” he smirked and Lando’s face dropped when the door opened and he saw you waiting there. 
“Hey,” you smiled with a wave of your hand. “Can we come in or…?” 
“Yeah baby, course,” what was he saying? When in the world had he ever called you baby before? He swallowed, hard, and smiled at your friends behind you. “Hey,” he smiled at them, shaking their hands. “I’m Lando.”
“Lando, these are my friends David,” you explained as he shook David’s hand. “And Isabel.” “Thanks so much for having us,” Isabel smiled. “I love F1 so this is super cool!” 
Lando smiled. If he could talk anything, he could talk cars. “That’s great, have a favourite team?” he mused, a cheeky grin on his face. “Doesn’t have to be McLaren.” 
She laughed. “Well yeah, sadly I’m tifosi, so a lot of depression there,” she admitted, and you all laughed. “But I can appreciate the rocketship you guys are building.”
Lando giggled. “Thank you.”
“We’d better head out for the photo op,” David reminded you, a hand on your lower back. Lando stiffened beside you and took your hand in his. “We were behind time getting here.” 
“Oh yeah, course-” you started to pull away from behind Lando, but he pulled you back, your front against his, his hands on your waist, all his attention on you. 
“Mind if I steal you for a few minutes?” he pleaded, his voice low. “Missed you.” 
Your cheeks heated at the attention and you gulped. “A few minutes, yeah sure,” you nodded, then turned your attention to David and Isabel. “You two go ahead, I’ll follow.”
They nodded and left, though Isabel had a smirk on her face and David was clenching his jaw. 
“What’s up?” you questioned, dropping from his grasp. 
“We need photo ops too,” he sighed, his voice low. He held up his phone and you rolled your eyes. 
“We have all the time in the world to-”
“I don’t,” he reminded you. “In 4 minutes Jon is coming in here and I literally won’t get to talk to you for the rest of the day.” 
“Make it quick then,” you rolled your eyes, nodding. He hid the flash of a smirk on his lips quite well. Not well enough though. “Get your mind out of the gutter.” 
“Whatever you say, pretty girl,” again, what was he saying? “Ready?” 
You fixed your hair a little, and nodded. He leaned in and kissed you, your hands holding either side of his face as you both relaxed into it. He forgot about the picture and focused more on kissing you, but he felt the way you hit his leg to remind him. He did actually have to post something about you, it was just a bonus that it got you away from David. He lifted his phone to take a picture of the two of you in the mirror, full-on snogging. He snapped a few and pulled back. You snatched the phone out of his hand and looked through them. 
“Theses are… fine,” you nodded. “Post them.”
He snaked a hand around your waist. “Not so fast, pretty girl. I post photo dumps, not singular pictures,” he reminded you with a smirk and you rolled your eyes again. He positioned you in front of him in the mirror, and turned you to face him.
“What is this?” you questioned. He placed your arms around his neck and smiled down at you. 
“Shows off the height difference,” he shrugged cheekily and you let out a genuine sigh. “People love it.” 
You, again, sighed (quite loudly) and he giggled again. “Come on, pose.”  “Tell me if they can see my ass,” you added. He felt that same burn in his chest- indigestion, right? You were wearing a pretty short dress (which obviously didn't bother him) and jacket you had discarded at the door when you walked in. 
“No one else sees that-”
“You don’t see that Lando,” you scoffed. “Act accordingly.” 
He laughed against your neck and snapped another few photos. You disconnected from each other and he watched your every move. “Anything else Mr. Photographer?” you asked. 
“Don’t you need some pictures?” he smirked. 
“I need to go get my photo op with my castmates,” you reminded him, but didn’t budge. “David has already texted me one.” 
Lando’s jaw clenched. “Oh yeah? Maybe I’ll walk you there, just so we can be seen together and all.” 
You shook your head, a practically sadistic smile on your face. “Oh, that’s alright, thanks though.” 
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The way he stalked your instagram should’ve been studied. You’d ignored his request for you to join him at dinner, only to find out on your insta story that you had gone out sight-seeing with David, Isabel too tired to join you. He felt something twist in his stomach as he scrolled through the pictures. He knew where you were, and a very large part of him wanted to go out just to ‘accidentally’ meet up with you. But he couldn’t. Team dinner and drinks with Zak, checking in on his mental state. 
“You’re frowning,” Zak pointed out over their dinner. “What’s up?” The restaurant was one of those nice, up-market places Zak always loved, they served the same food as some of the hidden gems Lando usually favoured, just with a bigger number beside the menu items. Lando had noticed that Zak was one of those rich men that liked to show they were rich in subtle ways. Expensive dinners every night, expensive watches, expensive suits, etc. Lando shook his head, turned off his phone, and sighed. “Nothing. Y/n’s just being a bit… hard to pin down.”
“How so?” Zak mused. 
“She’s out with her castmate even though we had dinner plans tonight.,” he admitted, taking another bite of his food.
“Complain to her lawyers, that’ll get you to the top of the priority list,” Zak offered. “And either way, all you need is a photo together.”
Lando nodded, but that bile in his throat burned pretty badly. 
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Despite your aversion to it, you were standing in Lando’s garage as he got ready for quali. You were holding his gloves for him, helmet to your left, and you felt the cameras on you. It was a bit… awkward. Anyone in their right mind could tell this was a pr move, but still, they lapped it up, for better or for worse. He flashed you a smirk and a wink as he walked over, his lips immediately finding yours when he got to you. “Looking beautiful,” he whispered as he pulled back. “Have something for me, pretty girl?” he smirked. 
You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes and smiled back at him, handing him his helmet (which he quickly pulled on) and then his gloves. You leaned over the barrier and pressed a kiss to the side of the helmet, your lipstick leaving a mark. You knew people would lose their minds. 
So did he. 
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“Who’re you texting?” he asked, his leg bouncing up and down under the table. He'd been waiting to ask that for a good 20 minutes.
You shook your head and turned off your phone. “Just David. Explaining how F1 works.”
Lando’s entire body stiffened. “So what’s up with you two?” 
You stared at him, mid bite. “What?” 
“He’s clearly in love with you, you brush it off… what’s going on there?” he sniffled, every single pore oozing insecurity, though he hoped you wouldn’t notice. 
You scoffed. “Ha-ha,” you deadpanned. “Hilarious Lando, good one.” 
“I’m not laughing,” he scoffed. “Tell him to back off.” 
“Tell him yourself,” you dismissed. “He’s my mate, am I not allowed mates?”
“Not mates who put the contract in danger,” he shook his head. Your jaw dropped open at his audacity. 
“Do you get off on pulling up the contract every four minutes?” you sneered. “Seriously, do you have a hard-on right now because you get to hold it over my head?”
“It’s not like a forced you into the contract Y/n, you chose-”
“I know exactly what I signed,” your tone was demanding, and he shut up immediately. “And I didn’t sign up for an insecure boyfriend. I signed up for a boyfriend who got posted on my account, and in return, I’m posted on his account. I go to a few races and you come to set. We’re not together. Not for real. Right?”
He nodded. “I just don’t want him getting the wrong idea.” 
“I can take care of myself,” you gritted out. “Now butt-out of my relationships, thanks.”
He bit his tongue and continued on with the meal, but he felt that deep unease in his stomach. This wasn't easy, and you seriously weren't making it any easier.
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landonorris
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liked by pierregasly, davidjonsson, yourusername and 1,209 others
landonorris Will keep on pushing tomorrow, starting second row always feels good :)
comments
pierregasly bro thinks he's slick -> lanodnorris bro thinks he's not getting blocked!
user423 NO NOT THE SLUT PLEASE NO LANDO ->user53 what is your problem?
user99 gold digger
yourusername :) ->liked by landonorris ->user412 ewwww she's in the comments now
user88 who tf is this guy and why does he have his hands all ove rmy princess y/n?
user4231 coming in to spread hate!
user21 am I the only one who thinks they're adorable...?
user243 ew
user8290 hope you crash :)
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landonorris's story, 11:09am, 8 of June 2024
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[caption: missed this one]
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yourusername
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liked by davidjonsson, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 3,924,942 others
yourusername montreal so far :)
comments are limited for this post
isabelamerced walking him like a dog? -> liked by yourusername
landonorris who's that cutie in the middle picture? -> yourusername I wonder...
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navigation for my blog :)
mclaren masterlist
faking it au masterlist
taglist: (just comment to be added!)
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lovemomhatepolice · 1 year ago
Text
winner - lando norris
navigation taglist requests
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pairing: lando norris x fem!reader
warnings: cursing, official relationship, p in v, blowjob, handjob, fingering, unprotected sex! (protect yourself), alcohol mention, first time sex!, English is my second language!
type: fluff/smut at the end
word count: 5k+
summary: 2024 Miami Grand Prix, which ends with Lando Norris' first victory in his career and an unexpected end to the week for a new couple
more content: formula 1 masterlist, lando norris masterlist
To say that your heart was beating fast really you would have to use the most complex terms the world has ever seen. On that day, everything seemed somehow faster.
Ever since you said goodbye to Lando and let him go to prepare quietly for the race - you were not quiet at all. And this wasn't the first time you had to check your heart rate on your watch when your boyfriend was about to have a race. Oh, it was like that every time. However, you very often experienced it from home or from somewhere other than Mclaren's official garage, as your relationship was still fresh. But now you were especially afraid for him because of yesterday's incident that took place during the sprint.
You looked anxiously around the Mclaren garage in search of more familiar faces. At first you couldn't find anyone, but soon found yourself in the arms of your good friend Lily, Oscar's girlfriend. “God, how good you are here,” you said and looked at the girl with a smile of relief. “Well, it's good to see you too” She laughed and moved slightly away from you. “How do you feel?”
You adjusted the orange dress you were wearing today and smiled at her this time with a broader smile, although you continued to feel a slight uneasiness inside. “Well, this is only my second race where Lando and I can officially show up as a couple, so it's definitely still pretty damn new to me.” You replied sincerely, combing your hand through your hair. “But I'm positive, the guys did great in qualifying, so hopefully this will help something.”
“You're right. Well, who if not them?” She laughed and comfortingly touched your hand. “Come on, let's get something to drink so you don't fall here.”
Time passed inexorably slowly without Lando, but even so, you opened up even more to the rest of the people in the team. Everyone was very nice and tried to create a family atmosphere, which you could feel. You drank cocktails that had been prepared together earlier and ate delicacies that were decorated specially in the color of papaya.
Meanwhile, Bianca has also joined you. You were so damn grateful that she was there too - ever since you met her she was like a little sister to you.
From that moment on, you were in your own world. There were people next to you with whom you felt good and you knew that you would have a nice time racing, so you practically didn't stress about what was around you anymore.
You were in the middle of a conversation with your boyfriend's team, Lily and Bianca, when you felt strong arms around your waist. You didn't wonder for a long time who they belonged to.
“Hello,” you laughed and turned around, still remaining in his arms.
Lando was now standing in front of you, smiling from ear to ear, which was nothing new at all. This boy always had a smile on his face, maybe sometimes smaller, sometimes bigger, but it definitely never left him.
“Hi”, Lando smiled at you and hugged you. “Did I surprise you?”
You laughed under your breath. "A little bit, I'll admit it," You replied and reached out your hand towards his slightly wet hair. The weather was really harsh today, let alone during the race when they had to sit in hot cars. "I thought you were getting ready for the race. After all, they were…' You stopped and glanced at the clock on the wall behind Lando. "You have less than an hour until the race," You muttered, looking back at your boyfriend.
The people who were standing with you earlier went their separate ways, giving you a place for a moment of privacy. You were very happy about this because at least for a while you could be relatively alone. Locked in our own bubble that no one seemed to get over.
“I know, but I had to see you before it started. My nerves are giving out,” the British driver replied, pulling you closer to him.
At that moment, there was nothing better for him than the touch of his girlfriend. He enjoyed the contact with you, the smell of your perfume, the softness of your skin.
“You look beautiful,” he whispered in your ear. “In the color of our team I haven't seen you yet.”
You heard his giggle and you didn't stop it either. You moved slightly away from the boy, however, still remaining in his embrace, and looked at him with an infatuated look on your face.
"Lando, I know how this may sound, but I feel in my bones that today is your day," you said and before Lando had time to speak, you continued. "Don't jump out at me here with your pessimistic talk like you're in the habit of saying, but just focus on your task, yeah?”
He laughed, and a slight redness filled his cheeks. He knew you well and knew how much you believed in him, but this time he wasn't sure. Because of the situation at the sprint, his head was cluttered with many thoughts. His self-doubt was not going away and was consuming him all over. Just as it had many times before.
"You know me so well, it's scary," Lando muttered. "I'll try, I really will, but what if I crash? Or worse, what if my engine gives up? I'm nervous, what can I say."
He muttered more quietly, as if someone would hear you, and tucked his head in the hollow of your neck. There were a lot of people around you, but hardly anyone knew what you were really talking about and hardly anyone dared to interrupt it at all.
"That's okay. Things don't always work out the way we want them to, and it's not always our fault," you replied, stroking his back and neck.
Of course you were damn scared for him. Always, regardless of the degree of your acquaintance, you were afraid of what might happen on the track. Apparently, fatal or more severe accidents didn't happen as often as you might think, but the fear continued in your mind.
Lando nodded slowly as you stroked his back and neck, feeling his heart beat faster. The touch of your hands on his body was always pleasant, but now it was different.
He drew you to him again, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and bringing your foreheads together.
"I'm grateful to you," he said, and his voice was slightly strained. This was nothing new before the races, and it continued to break your heart terribly. Despite more than 100 races, Lando continued to have misgivings inside. "It was somehow harder without you, you know? You're like my angel here."
You smiled tightly at him and moved even closer to the boy, kissing him on the lips. Quite lightly, but enough for him to feel it. All the emotions you wanted to convey to him at that moment.
"I am and will be by your side for as long as possible," you replied, smiling from ear to ear, which your boyfriend reciprocated.
Lando pulled you even closer to him, his body practically melting into yours. He was breathing heavily and for a moment he couldn't focus on anything, he was so lost in the moment. For a moment he forgot about the race, and his thoughts revolved only around you.
His eyes wandered over your face, and one of his hands stroked your waist through the thin layer of your orange dress.
“I love you,” he muttered lightly, but it was enough to completely melt you. His words were sincere and you knew it well. You could see it by how tightly he embraced you and how soft his lips were, gently brushing against your mouth.
“I love you too, you can't even imagine how much,” you replied, looking into his bright eyes.
Your time together passed inexorably fast, and before you knew it, your conversation was interrupted by one of Lando's team members, already calling him to the race.
“I'll be here waiting for you and keeping my fingers crossed,” you said, hugging him tightly one last time. “You are the best.”
Your whisper reached the boy's ears, at which he smiled widely. Oh, how much he loved you!
Lando reciprocated the smile, then stepped back to look at you. A huge smile was still on his lips. The boy reached out and gently brushed your hair out of your eyes. He took a deep breath before saying:
“I'll make you proud of me, I promise.”
That was the last thing you heard from his lips before he gave you one last kiss and with a quick step walked out towards his car with the rest of the team. You weren't able to answer him anymore, but you knew perfectly well that no matter the outcome, you would still be proud of him.
The race could already be felt around the corner...
After several minutes, there was no sign of Lando's team in the Mclaren garage. Each of them was in their own place and getting ready for the race. The atmosphere around them thickened even more, but all this time was spent in good company. Next to you, Lily and Bianca reappeared, as well as Lando's friends who were visiting Miami today.
Through the screen, you saw each of the drivers line up and looked out carefully for the orange car. It didn't take you long to spot it, mainly because of the yellow element at the top, making it easy to recognize them with Oscar. You smiled under your breath as you watched Lando gracefully park in the seat with the number 5.
“3…2…1! And off they go!” The voice from the loudspeaker rang out and the race began. And in your heart was the thought that everything would be fine.
•••
For a long time, dominance continued on the side of Max Verstappen, who overtook his rivals with quite a large time difference. You weren't particularly surprised. Red Bull had been the front-runner with Max for a long time - this year the only person to win a race besides him was Carlos in Australia, when the world champion's car had a glitch.
Drivers passed each other lap after lap, and time dragged mercilessly. The list was quite repetitive, and there were few replacements in front of you. Max, Charles, Oskar in the top three. Behind them Carlos, Sergio Perez and finally in sixth place Lando.
Finally, things started to get busy on the track. More and more drivers had PIT stops, making the names on the list change dramatically. The initial top five were also swapping among themselves, when suddenly you saw on the screen that at lap 24 the race leader was Oscar.
“Oh god!” muttered Lily, grabbing your hand.
You smiled in her direction, supportively squeezing her hand. In her eyes you could see how proud she was of her boyfriend. You weren't surprised, you totally understood that, especially now that Lando was in third place and seemed to hold it for a long time.
There was a bloody buzz in the Mclaren sphere, as well as in his garage, and people rose from their seats in fact from the moment Oscar and now Lando took dominance of the race. It was definitely their day and no matter which of them was going to finish on the podium, you were all very excited and supportive.
“Lando, you can do it,” you whispered to yourself, continuing to squeeze your hand with Lily.
“God, I can't stand it,” muttered Bianca, and approached you from the other side, grabbing the other of your hands.
And that was the turning point. The yellow flag, Sargeant's accident and the safety car. And Lando, who was out of it all, making his leadership of the race reach even greater heights.
You were well aware that there were more than twenty laps left of the race, but the sight of Lando, who calmly led the entire race driving behind the safety car this time, while Verstappen and Leclerc were treading on his heels, triggered such strong feelings in you that you would not be able to describe them in any words.
You knew this was his day. And just as you had promised earlier, you kept your fingers crossed with your whole self. Your hands with the girls were clenched so tightly that you had to finally relax so as not to hurt each other.
“I think our boy is going to walk away with the gold!” You heard somewhere off to the side from one of Mclaren's employees, making you laugh under your breath.
Everyone believed in him. Everyone knew that this was his day. Finally, after so many races, it was finally his time to show that he was somebody. To let everyone know it, not just his team and those close to him. Lando didn't talk about it out loud, but you knew very well that it was something he wanted to achieve. To show every person who insulted him and didn't believe he could, that he was not at all a silly young man who doesn't win races.
You followed each lap almost breathlessly, clenching your fists tightly. Tears appeared in your eyes, but you didn't give them a chance to leave your eyes. Everyone sat quietly, awaiting the expected end of the race. Charles in third, Max in second. And Lando in first. His dream was coming true at the moment, and it was confirmed by the words that came across the room less than a second later.
“15 times Lando Norris has stood on the podium. But never on the top step - until now. It's a landmark day for Lando.”
You heard and closed your eyes for literally a second to give vent to your tears. A huge smile appeared on your lips and you quickly felt the strong embrace of your colleagues around you, who were also touched by the situation. The whole garage was there, everyone was hugging, shouting with joy, clapping.
“Lando Norris wins for the first time in Formula One! It's victory in Miami for Norris and Mclaren!” The commentator shouted over the loudspeakers, which gave the final vent to all the emotions you were suppressing inside.
“He did it!”, Bianca exclaimed, hugging you from the side.
"He did it" You whispered to yourself and hugged the girls tightly to your body.
There was no end to the smiles and congratulations, and you all looked impatiently at the screen, which continued to show the winners of today's race. You watched with a smile as Lando celebrated with his team, who were waiting for him outside, and as each of the drivers hugged him in turn offering their sincerest congratulations. You were most touched by Lando and Carlos' hug, which made you gently scrunch your nose, giggling softly.
And that's what you loved about the racing - despite the rivalry, everyone supported each other and in moments like this one - the first win - they were like brothers to each other.
You really wanted to join him at this point, but you were further unsure about your appearance in more public places like Mclaren's garage, so you waited bravely.
Together with some of the team, you reached the place where the official trophy presentation was to take place. With a huge smile on your lips, you watched and recorded your boyfriend, who also, as was his custom, had a smile from ear to ear. You could well see a tear in his eye, however, no one could surprise him. It was definitely the best day of his life and everyone wanted to help him make it so he would never forget it.
And finally it came. Something you both had been waiting for a long time and finally could get. Yourselves in each other's embrace.
As soon as you saw each other after the boy entered the room where you stayed the whole race, you laughed. He, all sweaty and doused in champagne with tears of luck in his eyes, continuing in his racing outfit and with the prize in his hand, standing just like that in front of you, as if he had come home from his usual job. And you, laughing, also with tears in your eyes, in a dress in the shade of papaya, in which you supported him with your whole self. And not just today, you could do it to the end. You loved him in every possible form of the word.
You quickly shortened the distance that separated you, however, you didn't allow yourselves to touch yet. For now, you looked into each other's eyes, giggling under your breath like a pair of teenagers in love.
"Lando Norris, winner of the Miami GP race on May 5, 2024, huh?" you muttered, giggling under your breath, and looked straight into his eyes.
"[Y.N] [Y.L.N], the angel who stood over me the whole race and brought me luck and the most beautiful girl under the sun who is only mine, huh? he laughed and further reduced the distance between you, putting down the prize to one of the team members who suddenly appeared somewhere.
You were well aware that there were people around you, however, it didn't matter to you as before. However, now it was different - you were both drowning in even more happiness.
"Okay screw it, because I can't take it anymore." Purrs Lando and pulled you to him by the waist.
Your lips momentarily connected, but this time more firmly than usual. You felt all the emotions you had to offer the other person flowing between you and you were drowning in them.
You moved slightly away from Lando, placing your hands on his cheeks and combed lightly through his sticky curls. You smiled broadly in his direction, but it didn't take long and Lando quickly closed your lips in a kiss.
He pulled you even closer to him - if that was even possible and now you could perfectly feel the warmth of each other's bodies.
"I knew you would win," you whispered to him in a way that only he could hear.
Lando smiled broadly and stroked your hip with his large hand, leaning over you even more. This time his lips brushed the lobe of your ear, making you get goosebumps.
"You are my amulet of luck." he muttered, kissing your ear.
However, your moment could not last forever, and once again someone interrupted you. You moved slightly away from your boyfriend, but only a little - he didn't allow you to do more, but enough to make you feel comfortable.
"Lando, we have one more interview and then you can go wherever you want," Charles said, smiling in your direction. "Oh, hey [Y.N], I haven't seen you here in a long time."
You walked closer to the man and embraced him, smiling sincerely in his direction. It's true, it's been a long time since you've had a chance to see him, which you damn well regretted, because who like anyone, but Charles you adored. He was one of the drivers you liked better.
"Hello Charles, I hope we'll soon have the opportunity to spend time together somehow longer. I'm awfully excited to meet little Leo," you giggled, moving away from Leclerc to a comfortable distance.
"Oh god yes, she keeps talking about it," said Lando, jabbing you in the ribs with his finger. You smacked his hand lightly and stuck out your tongue in his direction.
"Okay good, go conduct the last interview star, and I will collect your stuff and what? I assume a moment at the hotel and celebrate?" You asked your boyfriend, but you didn't have to wait long for his answer.
Lando quickly nodded his head and kissed you one last time on the lips, then left together with Charles towards the right place. You, for your part, said goodbye to everyone in Mclaren's garage, in places stopping for a shorter or longer conversation. You said your last goodbyes to your friends, parting, in fact, only for a moment, as you were soon to end up at the same club. You grabbed all of Lando's things and waited for him on one of the couches, looking through your phone.
A slightly tired Lando sat down at the couch next to you after 20 minutes, quickly handing you his belongings so that you could help him. "The interview is hopefully finished," he muttered, leaning his head on your shoulder. His eyes were half-closed and it was clear that he was not far from falling into a deep sleep. But Lando also knew well that this moment would not last long. The whole team wanted to celebrate the victory, and the most important celebration was waiting for him. But for now, he was enjoying his peace and you.
"Come on, Lando. We are going to celebrate your victory." You said and jumped up from the couch, grabbing your boyfriend's hand and gently pulling him towards you.
•••
One of Miami's more popular clubs sparkled with all sorts of lights. It was packed with people - the more popular ones and those who just wanted to party that evening. There was a smell of alcohol and other substances, which you quickly picked up, paving your way behind Max, who had come with you to the place.
You were wearing a short black dress that glowed slightly, completing the atmosphere of the club. Lando walked behind you, holding your hand tightly so that you didn't escape his sight for a moment.
It didn't take long for him to be recognized. Immediately the moment you took your place at one of the higher walls, however, still in a good place between other people at your friends - Pierre with Kika and Max with Kelly, the drivers were recognized. To your eyes appeared a large led sign that loudly sang about Lando's win with the dancers, to which you burst out laughing seeing his embarrassment. You hugged him tightly to you, swaying to the rhythm of the song as people around you congratulated him on his first place, singing loudly.
You and your boyfriend celebrated with the others, but before long you found yourselves with only each other. You had already had one drink, so you were both giggling more than usual and were even more available to each other. Lando moved behind you, and you twirled your hips around his crotch, which made him moan right in your ear.
You shuddered and turned your head toward him. Lando didn't wait long, grabbing your face in his hands and kissing you hard. Your hands went to his neck, making the case that the distance between you was practically non-existent anymore. As you kissed, you felt Lando's hand slide down to your ass and clamp down hard on it, so the moan that came out of you went directly into his mouth.
"Lando," you whispered, bringing your lips together again.
Lando's hands roamed all over your body, but his attention was mainly focused on your hips and buttocks. He squeezed them tightly in his hand and smoothly rubbed his thumb over them. He leaned down slightly and whispered in your ear: "Damn, how much I love you."
"All mine" he moaned and squeezed you a little tighter, pushing you even closer together as much as possible.
Your kisses became more and more passionate, and his breathing became deeper. Your hands wandered over his unbuttoned shirt and light curls.
"Lando, I want to go back to the hotel," I said, looking straight into his beautiful bright eyes, signaling with my gaze that there is something I want more now than being in the middle of a crowded club with another people.
He noticed your gaze and nodded slowly. The heat rose in your faces and your bodies were pressed firmly against each other.
"We're leaving right away," Lando whispered in your ear, taking your hand and leading you away from the main crowd.
You did not have to wait long to get there. At Lando's request, a specially designated person from his team came to pick you up and brought you safely and quite quickly in front of the hotel.
You said goodbye to the driver and, without hesitation, headed for the elevator, holding hands and giggling under your breath. Oh, the giggles that evening were endless...
When you reached your floor, a door opened and Lando led you into your room. He closed the door behind you and quickly turned to you, pulling you close to him.
His lips landed on yours once again and he breathed loudly in your ear: "I want only you tonight."
"I want you too Lando." You responded by reciprocating his kiss. "I'm really ready today."
The boy's eyes flashed. On the one hand because of the excitement, on the other hand he himself didn't know how he could describe the excitement that was tugging at him. You wasted no time, and your lips never moved away from each other. Your hands nimbly unbuttoned the buttons of Lando's black shirt, which you helped him to throw off.
"Are you sure?" He asked, pulling slightly away from you to look into your eyes.
"I'm so sure. Lando, this is something I've wanted for a long time," you replied truthfully, waiting for his reaction.
For him, these words were the most important thing because he also wanted this moment with all his heart and now he could have it.
He pulled you even closer to him again, so that your bodies touched even tighter. One hand slipped underneath your dress, up your thigh, and he whispered. "Then we're not wasting anymore time here, my love."
He leaned down and kissed you again, pressing his lips even more warmly into yours. The kiss became more passionate, more intense. You couldn't control yourself, all your senses were in his hands. You moaned softly as his warm, large hands glided over your body, slowly exploring it.
Lando breathed deeply and groaned, tightening his grip on you and pulling your hips even closer to him. A minute later, Lando pulled you into him and laid you on the hotel bed on your back.
Lando leaned over you, his hands roaming all over your body, and pressed his lips to your neck, nibbling lightly on your skin. He stepped back slightly and began to remove your dress, one strap, then the other.
He breathed deeper, and his hands moved smoothly over your curves and hips. Finally, he took off your underwear and threw it behind you. He then tilted his head back, looking at you lustfully.
"[Y.N], you are so fucking beautiful." he replied, smiling to himself under his breath.
You reciprocated his smile, pulling him to you by the back of his neck. Without waiting long, you joined your lips in a passionate kiss, feeling your boyfriend's hand go lower and lower until it reached the place where you wanted him most. You moaned directly into his mouth as his fingers began to create a circles on your pussy.
"Fuck" you hissed.
Lando breathed heavily as he felt you react to his touch in such a delicate way. Your moans were the best sound in the world for him and he couldn't resist. His hand rubbed up and down slowly and gently, and he whispered in your ear.
"Oh, you're so sensitive, baby," he whispered, and then he rubbed your clit a little more quickly.
"Lando!" you moaned as you felt his finger inside you, moving nimbly inside you.
The boy brought your lips together again, adding another finger. He didn't move away from you for a moment, with his thumb still making sensual circles on your clit, and the other two moving inside you. His mouth quickly invaded your neck, making trails down until he reached your breasts. You moaned as he began to massage one of them with his free hand and took the other into his mouth, playing with your hard nipple.
"All right," he murmured, placing wet kisses all over your chest, giving equal attention to both breasts, which were even burning from his touch.
All that touch of his, which he now devoted to your satisfaction, soon induced a state of euphoria in you, which made itself perfectly known for quite a while. The boy continued to move his fingers inside you and over your clit with his thumb, allowing you to relax after the initial sensation.
"Lando, I need you inside me," you muttered as your body stopped shaking from the first orgasm of the evening.
"Your words are an order to me," he replied, helping you to rise slightly so that you were sitting up, but you had other plans for the moment. "However, first it is time to take care of my winner as he should be taken care of," you muttered in his ear, getting down on your knees in front of the bed on which he was sitting. You slid up slightly, letting him free of his pants and boxers, which looked downright painful on his erection.
Lando looked down at you with dreamy and infatuated eyes. He could have sworn he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. Even his win today didn't compete with what was happening and what was about to happen.
"How beautiful," you said, touching his entire length. You had to admit that the boy had something to boast about and you knew it well. More than once you had already seen each other naked and given each other oral pleasure.
Quickly his entire length was in your mouth. You moved nimbly, trying to give him as much pleasure as possible. And that's probably exactly what happened, looking at the fact that Lando quickly tilted his head back and made quiet but giving noises. Quickly with the faster movement of your lips around his dick, Lando began to make louder noises from himself.
"Fuck, how good," he muttered, looking at you with squinted eyes.
He didn't let you finish your work, however, but pulled you into his lap and joined your lips in a passionate kiss, while you grabbed his penis and directed it directly into your hole. Slowly you lowered yourself to his length, and your lips left each other with hot moans of pleasure. "God, how tight you are," howled Lando, placing his hands on your hips and helping you bounce on his lap.
Lando was in heaven. He felt your strong, warm hands and the touch of your sensitive lips as your lips pressed firmly into his. He groaned and clenched his hand around your hip, pulling you in even close as you pushed yourself forward and got him deep in you.
"I love you," he gasped, squeezing even harder and pulling you in even deeper.
“I love you so much,” you moaned, grabbing his jaw and connecting your lips in a heated kiss.
Due to his tighter grip, the boy was now moving inside you with greater speed and force, giving you sensations you had never experienced before, you felt as if you were going to faint. Additional pleasure came when Lando moved his hand between your bodies and touched your swollen pussy, giving her another dose of attention she was definitely crying out for.
"Mine, you're mine and only mine", Lando breathed under his breath and squeezed you even tighter, driving you wild.
"Yeah, only yours" you whispered against his lips, continuing to bounce in rhythm on his cock. "I am close"
"Look at me," he moaned softly and pulled you face up so that you were looking him in the eyes.
"I'm happy with my win today, you know?" he asked, waiting for your answer and you nodded. "But you know what makes me even happier? You. Just you, how close you were to me today, how close you really are all the time and that you showed how important I am to you and that now you have given yourself completely to me. Our bodies connected "I have never felt so good in my life. You are my best feeling."
He said and smiled at you. No matter how it may have sounded, these words brought you closer to the long-awaited moment of orgasm, which shook your bodies at practically the same time. You continued to move nimbly on his length, helping him come down from his orgasm. You felt all of your mixed juices slowly pouring out of you, but you didn't pay much attention to it. Your lips were as one again, as were your bodies, and you simply appreciated this moment of your first time together…
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A/N: well, there's a chapter dedicated to Lando's win in Miami! God, I'm so proud of our little Lando Norris, I don't even have words to describe it
I hope you liked the chapter and will leave something behind! I would like to gain 500 followers by the end of the month, so I will be happy if you stay longer :)
please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)
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giuseppe-yuki · 11 months ago
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feathers
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alex albon x cockatiel shapeshifter! reader
w.c.: 1.2k
warnings: one suggestive comment
part of my shapeshifting!reader series
summary: you annoy alex; ft. james vowles
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picture credits from pinterest :)
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the parc ferme was packed with people as you fluttered around alex’s head, feathers swaying in the wind. he wasn’t hard to follow, considering his tall 6’1 figure and unmistakable forest green aa23 hoodie. the crowds parted like moses and the red sea as he crossed, recognizing him as 1 of the 20 drivers on the grid. from your birds-eye view, you were pretty sure you saw zak efron five meters away from you next to the red bull garage and scotty james hovering around daniel’s blue vcarb next door.
nobody batted an eye at your presence- they all assumed you were just one of the many albon pets. 
chittering, you land on alex’s shoulder and give him a few hard pecks with your beak, ripping out a few strands of his bleached hair. you giggle internally- he was so easy to annoy when you were in cockatiel form. 
“hey!” he protests, stopping in his tracks front of the aston martin garage. he raises his hand, about to forcefully push you off his shoulder for being mean. before alex is able to, he spots two young fans, sporting fernando alonso caps, looking at him. not wanting to be labeled as “alex albon the bird assaulter,” he slowly lowers his hand, and instead converts it to an awkward wave. to avoid another awkward situation, he takes off running towards his original destination, the williams garage, but not before shooting a glare at you. 
when you arrive at the williams garage, you find logan standing in front as well. alex waves his hand in greeting and you chirp in a greeting.
“took you long enough,” logan quips, smiling. “james called for you a while ago!” 
“well, i would have gotten here quicker if this cockatiel would stop being irritating!” alex says, gesturing towards you. turning his head towards you, he places a kiss on top of your feathery little head. “you’re kinda lucky that i love you, or else i would probably have donated you to the zoo!” he jokes. 
for the second time that evening, you give peck his head, hard.
logan laughs at the interaction in front of him. “if you’d like, i know a hawk that can act as ‘animal control’ for you! she’s back at home in miami right now, though.”
the gall of this man! you know logan is joking, but still, you hop off of alex’s shoulder and purposely fly at logan’s face, flapping your feathers in the direction of his eyes. 
“okay, okay, okay,” logan laughs, trying to cover his face, “tell your girlfriend to stop attacking me or else i’m sending my girlfriend after her when you guys come to the states!”
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ten minutes later, when you enter the air-conditioned williams motorhome, you are dressed in a flowy white pants and a williams blue silk halter top. you loop your arm through alex’s as he asks his race strategist the whereabouts of his team principal. 
 when he finishes with his conversation, he leads you towards his driver’s room 
“i thought you came here to meet james,” you question, looking up at alex.
“yeah, i did,” he responds, “but apparently he had to have a quick meeting with the engineers and will find me later, so i guess we have a little time to rest in my driver’s room before the race.” a flashes a devilish smile and little wink at you.
a flash of shock runs across your face, and you shoot him a dirty glare. “we are NOT doing that in your drivers room.” 
“what do you mean?” he replies innocently, “ when i said rest, i meant that we could maybe chill on the couch and watch a little bit of high school musical- i saw you looking at zac efron in parc ferme earlier.”
you groan exasperatedly, but follow him into the small room. 
when you first started dating alex, he was always ever the gentleman, complimenting you and whispering sweet things into your ear when you were with him. you trusted him with all your heart, and instead of freaking out when you told him that you could shapeshift into a cockatiel, he immediately started researching info about cockatiels and began carrying sunflower seeds around for you. as time passed, your relationship evolved into a loop of you bullying alex in bird form and him teasing you nonstop in public. (he obviously still knew your limit though, and was always the sweetest behind closed doors)
you hop on the couch as alex navigates to disney+ on the tv and starts the movie. he places his arm around your shoulder and leans his head against yours. you curl up into him, breathing in the smell of him. to your disappointment, within in the first twenty minutes, alex is dead asleep on the couch. you frown, lifting his arm off of you. you were about the shake him awake when you came up with a brilliant idea. 
turning back into your cockatiel form, you shake off your loose feathers onto the couch. you smile to yourself. alex hated when you left your feathers everywhere. you pick up a feather or two with your beak, and place it strategically on the floor. one on the couch hand rest, three on alex’s head, two behind the couch (when you placed those, you found a giant glossy picture of george russell behind the couch?? you’ll have to talk to him about that later). after arranging the finishing touches, you nudge alex’s cheek with your feathery head to wake him up. as soon as he opens his sleepy eyes, he immediately sees the absolute mess you made everywhere. but before he could say a word, a knock sounds from the door. 
“alex, it’s james,” says the voice outside the door.
alex’s eyes widen, and (screw his ultra-quick reflexes) proceeds to quickly snatch you off of his lap and unceremoniously shoves you inside a nearby drawer. he slides it shut, except for a little crack so you could breathe.
oh you were gonna kill him.
you hear the door open, and footsteps into the room. 
“hey, says james, “so i was gonna come here to talk to you about a chassis problem, but i think that it would be better if we could talk about it as a team in a meeting after the race. i was going to send you an email about it, but since i was passing by your drivers room, i just wanted to pop in in-person to let you know.” 
you hop towards the crack and raise an eye to see through. alex is standing awkwardly, half in front of the coach with his hands next to his sides, pointedly trying to block the mess of feathers on the couch. 
“err.. yeah! of course!” your boyfriend says. 
as if just noticing the feathers all over the couch, james raises an eyebrow. “did you kill a bird in here or are you making an art project?” he asks, looking at alex with an incredulous look. 
“art project,” alex responds, almost immediately.
“okay.” james says, in a tone that suggested he didn’t really believe alex. he turns to leave, hand on the handle. but before he does, he turns around. “wait a second, i could have sworn logan said that you were in here with your girlfriend?”
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a/n: second installment of the series! ( i wrote this at 3am) if you didn't get the george russell picture reference, here's a link to a video that i watched: link
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taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin @ale-522 @formula1-motogpfan @aceyalonso
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f1swiftiee · 7 months ago
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Tipsy - LN4
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pairings: lando x fem!reader, leclerc!reader
summary: lando has a massive crush on his rival's teammate, and his efforts to catch her attention never actually catches her attention, but rather everyone else's, until one day, when all things go downhill.
a/n: hii!! sorry it took me so long to write this! not proofread, so feel free to point out any mistakes. i changed a few details to make the story make sense. thanks and enjoy! there will be a part 2!
warnings: drinking, unplanned pregnancy, mention of sex, and thats all i think??
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It was no secret that Lando had a crush on you. Everyone seemed to just simply know that he was head over heels for you. Well, everyone, except you. Lando had tried countless times to make a move, but each time, you either didn't notice or took it as a joke. Lando was determined. No matter how long or how much effort it was going to take, he was willing to do it, for you.
౨ৎ
The sunlight of Miami shone through the blinds in your hotel room, which you were sharing with your brother, Charles, and his girlfriend, Alex. You didn’t mind staying with them, as you and Alex got along quite well. As soon as you fully woke up you saw that Alex was still asleep and that Charles had already left to head to the track. Slowly, you got out of bed and walked over and woke up Alex. Together, you two got ready and headed out the door.
On the drive there, Alex was driving, and the conversation somehow drifted over to which drivers would win the Dutch Grand Prix that day. “I bet you $100 that Charles is going to beat everyone today,” Alex said.
“You’re just saying that because he’s your boyfriend. I bet that Lando’s gonna win today. He’s been performing a lot better recently. Have you noticed that?” You had your mind set on Lando, for no reason at all, but you had a strange gut feeling.
“Maybe that's because a certain someone has been going to all the races recently,”, looking over and winking at you.
“Huh? I didn’t say anything about me? I was just saying that Lando and the team have been doing a lot better recently, unlike a certain someone. *cough* *cough* Charles.”
“No way you just said that! He got P5 yesterday!”
“Yeah exactly, and who was P1 in quali?” As you said that, Alex pulled the car into the parking lot and parked the car. After this, the two of you got out of the car and headed towards the garage, but not without passing the McLaren garage.
As you and Alex were passing McLaren, the two of you heard a voice, which you knew all too well call out. "Y/n!" You turned around and saw Lando standing a few feet away, beaming. He began running and quickly caught up to you and Alex.
"Y/n! I didn't know you were coming to the grand prix! You know, you should ditch Charles in the Ferrari garage and come over to the McLaren garage. Plus, Oscar brought Lily," Lando said, but not without his whole face turning red.
"Lily!! Wait, Lando, I'd love to, but I can't just leave Alex! Wait, can she come too?"
Quickly, Alex interrupted and said, "No, no, Y/n you should go to the McLaren garage. Also, I have Rebecca, so I won't be alone. Plus, Charles would kill me if he heard I was in McLaren."
"Soo, is that a yes, Y/n?" Lando said, and this time, even you could sense the excitement in his tone.
"Yeah, sure! Alex, I'll catch up with you later sometime during or after the race."
And with that, Lando led the way back to his garage. He showed you his car and led you towards his driver's room. As you were stepping into his driver's room, you spotted Lily, who was passing by with Oscar. "LILY!!" you called out.
"Y/N!!" Lily yelled. Lily started running towards you, and the two of you shared a tight embrace.
"Lily! It's been forever since I've last seen you! You haven't come to any of the races recently. Oh my gosh! I forgot to tell you about the cute guy I saw at this new cafe!"
Upon hearing that, Lando felt a sudden pang of jealousy. He decided that he was going to make a move that day so that no other guy would have the chance to date you before he did. Oscar glanced at Lando, and he was easily able to read Lando's face and understand what he was thinking. "Mate, if you really like her, you should do it. You know, she'd probably say yes," Oscar said, empathetically.
౨ৎ
It was now time for the drivers to head to the garages and get into the cars. You were still in the McLaren garage, and you were standing with Lily. The two of you's hearts were racing like crazy, as they always did before a race began. The drivers lined up, and the lights went out. The first half of the race went smoothly, until lap 38. Lando, Charles, and Max were all battling for the first-place spot. Not to mention that Carlos, Oscar, and George were not too far behind as well. The battle continued for a few more laps until Lando somehow managed to pull through and take the lead. Seeing this made you and Lily quite anxious, so you both talked for a bit and took a break from staring at the screen. After a few minutes, loud commotion was heard from the screen, and you both looked up to see a papaya car cross the line, earning first place. Seeing this, you blurted out, "Was that Oscar?"
Lily replied, "No! That was Lando! Oh my gosh! He won!! BY TWENTY SECONDS?"
"WHAT??"
After learning that, you couldn't help but smile. You were so proud of Lando, after all that hard work that he had put into his performance and training, and it finally paid off. Seeing this, Lily smirked at you and said, "Ooh, someone's got a crush!"
"No! He's just a friend, Lily. I'm just really proud of him."
"Whatever you say," Lily said while shrugging her shoulders.
As you watched the drivers on the podium, you couldn't help but stare and Lando. The way his messy curls sat atop his head so perfectly and the way his green eyes reflected the sun was just so beautiful. The way that he did his champagne pop simply mesmerized you. You couldn't help but notice that he did look down at you quite a few times while standing on the top podium, with Max in second, and Charles in third.
Later that night, most of the grid went to a club nearby to celebrate and party. You were planning to meet them there afterward, with a few of your friends. After you arrived, you saw Carlos, Charles, Rebecca, and Alex at the bar and headed over to them. As the night went on, you and the drivers kept downing drinks, but no one was nearly as drunk as you were.
"Hey, has anyone seen Y/N?" one of your friends asked, as she approached the group.
"Uhh no? I thought she was with you guys? No?" Carlos said, clearly concerned.
"Yeah, me too. I thought she was with you too," Charles said.
"While we're on this topic of missing people, has no one else noticed that the race winner's gone too?" Daniel added. As soon as Daniel said this, everyone seemed to understand simultaneously.
"Daniel! Lando and my sister? Seriously?" Charles denied.
"You never know, mate," Oscar said, a large smirk evident on his face.
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austria gp
Later that day, all the drivers and wags were meeting up at 7 for dinner before the race weekend began, and you were planning to attend. It was currently 4 PM, and you were feeling quite nauseous. This had been going on for the past month or so. At first, you thought you had caught the stomach bug or something, but you were beginning to think that it wasn't.
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30 minutes had passed since you had texted Alex, and you heard the door of your hotel room swing open. "Y/n!! I'm back!!!" Alex exclaimed. Alex ran over and hopped onto the bed next to you.
"What'd you get?" you asked, reaching over for the bag, "Wait, wasn't Charles with you?"
"No, he said he was gonna go with Carlos and that he would meet me at the restaurant," Alex replied.
You began digging through the bag, "Advil, Tylenol, Ibeuprofen... did you really need to buy all of this?" you remarked.
"Duh! I didn't know what you needed, so I got everything!"
You continued rummaging through the bag, and felt some sort of box at the bottom "Thanks Alex- wait what's this?" you questioned. You pulled out the white box and read the front, "PREGNANCY TEST" "Really?" you questioned.
"You never know! Better to be safe than sorry!" Alex said, shrugging her shoulders, "You might as well take it just to be sure!"
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You took the test in the bathroom, with Alex waiting outside the door. By now, it was almost 5 PM. "Can I come in?" Alex asked. "Yeah, one sec," you said while washing your hands. After you dried your hands, you opened the door and let Alex in. As soon as she stepped into the bathroom, your alarm went off. "Okay, you check for me. I'm too scared," you said nervously.
Alex flipped over the test. "OH MY GOD! Alex exclaimed.
"What? What? Is it bad? Let me see!" you said.
Alex handed the test and you gasped in horror at the test. "PREGNANT" This couldn't actually be happening, right? You were pregnant? You thought of what you had done the past two months and of anyone you had slept with, and one name came to your mind, Lando.
"OH MY GOD! I'M AN IDIOT!" you exclaimed, tears brimming your eyes.
"Hey, hey. It's okay! Do you know who the dad is? Wait, is it Lando?" Alex said, trying to calm you down and figure everything out.
Suddenly, all the memories came flooding back into your mind. Lando had driven you home that night, and you two ended up in the backseat of his McLaren. "Lando. Me and him had sex in his car when he took me back to my hotel room in Miami," you said, sobbing, "I can't believe this! I'm not ready to be a mom yet!"
"I'll go ahead and let Charles know that we won't be attending tonight," Alex told you, pulling out her phone.
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Charles and Carlos drove to the dinner, and Carlos could tell that something was off with Charles. "Charles, you've been acting off all night. Tell me what's wrong; I can tell when you have something bothering you," Carlos said, trying to pry an answer out of him.
"I-I'm not really sure. You know how y/n and Alex were supposed to attend the dinner, right?"
"Yeah," Carlos said, nodding. As he and Charles continued talking, they pulled into the parking lot and began making their way into the restaurant.
"Well, Alex texted me randomly and said they wouldn't make it, and when I asked her why, she wouldn't answer me. I think something's wrong with y/n. I told her I was going to come back to the hotel, and she freaked out on me. I don't know what to d-" Suddenly, Charles was interrupted by the ringing to Carlos's phone. He pulled it out and answered.
"Er, Hello?" Carlos said, sitting down at the table, waving to the other drivers.
"Hey, sorry for the short notice, but I can't make it tonight. Neither can Kika, Lily Z, Lily M, or Carmen."
"What, you too?"
"Yeah, I got to go! I'll call you later!"
Carlos glanced back at his phone. "CALL ENDED" Upon seeing this, he put his phone away back into his pocket.
The dinner continued, but Charles and Carlos couldn't shake away the feeling that something was wrong. None of the other drivers knew what was going on either.
౨ৎ
lando's pov
Lando was disappointed, as he was going to take this as an opportunity to try to talk to you after the night you spent together because you had been avoiding him ever since. He decided to send you a text, to see if you were okay and ask why none of the wags were attending.
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He stared at his phone for a moment, hoping for a response, but got none. He checked his phone a few minutes later and saw that he had been left on read.
౨ৎ
Back at the hotel room, it was as hectic as ever. Y/n was a complete mess, her mascara running down her face, as the wags sat around her, trying to comfort her.
"Are you completely sure you're pregnant? I mean, you only took one test. It wouldn't hurt to take another one just to be sure," Lily M said.
In unison, the rest of the wags nodded in agreement, and Carmen ran over to the corner, where the pharmacy bag was lying and got out another test. She walked back over and handed it to you.
Slowly, you got up and walked over to the bathroom, a million thoughts racing through your mind. Was this really happening? Were you even ready to be a mom? How would Lando react? Would he have time to be a dad, considering his F1 schedule?
The timer on your phone rang, and the wags sat on the bed, waiting in anticipation. You, however, could not bring yourself to turn over the test. "Hey, can someone come in here and see the test? I'm too scared to flip it over!" you called out. All the wags rushed over, and suddenly there was a whole group of you in the small hotel bathroom. Kika was the first to grap the test, and she gasped as she saw the result. "PREGNANT" She showed the test to everyone in the bathroom. Your knees gave out, and you slid down the wall, into a sitting position, leaning against the wall.
Lily Z crouched down and gave you a hug. "Hey, everything's gonna be okay. We're all here for you!", she said while comforting you.
The rest of the wags squatted down to face you, and they all assured you that no matter what happened, they would all be there for you.
part 2 coming soon!!
a/n: im making a taglist for part 2, so if you want to be added, comment or like my most recent post about it!
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willowsnook · 8 months ago
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brandy with italian soda in a wine glass? 💗
charles leclerc x verstappen!sister
do you enjoy pissing me off?
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Few things in life were certain: death, taxes, and Charles Leclerc being hopelessly in love with you. At least, that last part was obvious to everyone except you. Charles had been smitten since the days when you were both tearing up karting tracks. Even your brother Max found it amusing how oblivious you were to the whole thing. The signs? Blatantly obvious.
Charles was always around. To anyone new in the paddock, it might look like he was a Red Bull driver with how often he hung around their garage whenever you were at a race.
He was always touching you—his hand on your back as you walked, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, or nudging you playfully. He found any excuse to be close to you.
And he never talked about other girls when you were around. If the conversation ever drifted toward his romantic life, he’d deflect, downplaying any rumors. Because in his eyes, the only person that mattered was you.
But you were too caught up in your own world to notice. Ever since you’d started your marketing career at a tech company last year, life had been a blur of work and figuring out adulthood. Dating wasn’t exactly on your radar.
Charles had always been in your life. So, for you, it didn’t feel strange to be around him all the time. You hadn’t realized things had shifted on his end.
It was a late night in Monaco, and you were out for dinner with Charles, Max, Kelly, and a few others, making the most of a short break after Singapore. You rested your head on Charles’ shoulder, casually holding a glass of wine while chatting with Kelly. After dinner, the plan was to hit up a new club in town, and you were excited for a night out.
When the waiter came by with the checks, Charles swiftly motioned that yours was with his.
"You didn’t have to do that, Charlie," you said, glancing up at him.
He smiled warmly. "I always will, mon amour."
Max rolled his eyes and gagged dramatically, while Kelly shot him a warning look.
After leaving the restaurant, you grabbed Charles’ hand as the group made their way toward the club, not wanting to get separated in the busy streets. Charles absentmindedly rubbed his thumb against your hand, content with the simple gesture. Thanks to Max, you all had a private VIP section waiting at the club.
Once inside, you made your way to the bar to grab a drink. "Tequila soda, please," you ordered, leaning over the counter.
"Her drink’s on me," a guy standing next to you offered with a charming smile. He had beach-blonde hair and deep, ocean-blue eyes.
"Thanks," you replied, accepting the gesture.
"No problem," he said, leaning in closer so you could hear him over the music. "You from around here?"
"I live here now," you explained, "but I’m originally from the Netherlands."
"Nice," he replied, clearly interested. "I’m just visiting from the U.S."
"Ah, I’ve been a couple of times—Vegas, Miami, Austin," you said casually, listing off F1’s U.S. race stops.
"Not L.A.?" he asked with a grin. "You’ll have to let me show you around sometime."
You blushed, about to respond when you felt a strong hand wrap around your arm, pulling you away from the bar.
"Let’s go," Charles said sharply, his eyes shooting daggers at the guy, who looked confused.
"Charles, what the hell?" you protested, irritation bubbling up as you pulled free from his grip.
Charles stopped and turned to face you, his jaw clenched. "Are you trying to piss me off?"
Your eyes widened, taken aback. "What are you talking about?"
"That guy," Charles snapped, gesturing back at the bar. "Flirting with you, buying you drinks—do you not see what’s happening?"
You crossed your arms defensively. "He was just being nice, Charles. It’s not that serious."
"Not that serious?" he repeated, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "You really don’t see it, do you?"
"See what?" you demanded, exasperated. "Why do you care so much?"
Charles stared at you, his usual cool exterior cracking as his emotions surfaced. "Because it drives me insane watching other guys try to get your attention. I should be the only one who has your attention."
The words hung in the air between you. His eyes softened as he realized what he’d just admitted.
Charles swallowed hard, his frustration giving way to vulnerability as he took a step closer, closing the gap between you. "I’ve been in love with you for longer than I can remember. Watching you with someone else, even for a second, it—" He broke off, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t want anyone else to have you, because I’ve always wanted you."
The weight of his confession made your breath hitch. The little gestures, the lingering looks, the way he always had your back—it suddenly all made sense.
You closed the space between you, pulling him down into a kiss that felt like it had been building for years. Charles wasted no time in wrapping his arms around you, deepening the kiss, his hands sliding up your back like he’d finally found what he’d been waiting for.
When you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, Charles rested his forehead against yours, a wide smile on his face.
"About time," he whispered, making you laugh softly.
"Yeah, about time," you agreed, already knowing that this was just the beginning.
Both of you walked back to your friends who had been watching the whole time and your face burned red with embarrassment.
"Finally found your balls mate?" Max said to Charles laughing and you rolled your eyes, not letting your grip of his hand loosen.
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pupkashi · 1 year ago
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f1 driver!satoru 💭🏎️
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a/n: hi friends ! i have had this au rattling in my head like a damn maraca for SO LONG im so glad i finally got around to putting it out for yall :3 this might be for a very niche group of people but i hope the five of you who enjoy f1 will appreciate this 🙏 let me know what yall think if you’d like him to make a reappearance in drabbles or one shots !! <3
masterlist
f1 driver!satoru who is mercedes golden boy, replacing lewis hamilton after his move to ferrari, going toe to toe with the likes of red bull and Ferrari racers
f1 driver!satoru who is loved across the grid and in the general public, think Italian men with charles leclerc, he’s the people’s princess, truly
f1 driver!satoru who dominates his rookie year, leaving everyone stunned at how truly talented and amazing he is
f1 driver!satoru who has the most followers on social media from everyone on the grid, everyone fawning over him constantly
f1 driver!satoru who loves the attention, but all of it seems so meaningless the second he meets you, falling hard and fast from the couple conversations you had, giving you free tickets for the race in an attempt to get more time with you
f1 driver!satoru who shows up and shows out the Grand Prix that weekend, eyes searching the crowd as tries his best to focus on his post race interviews
f1 driver!satoru finds you in the crowd as he steps onto the podium, smile widening and dimples popping out, he’s laughing as his podium mates douse him in champagne, all of them taking a swig from the comically large champagne bottle
f1 driver!satoru who says his to you with champagne dripping down his face and off his snowy hair, asking what the odds were of you letting him take you out on a date where he’s not working
f1 driver!satoru who is impossible to not fall for, with his witty replies and pretty blue eyes, he has you weak in the knees and on FaceTime every night
f1 driver!satoru who takes you carting, letting you win and treating you to dinner afterwards, buzzing with nervousness as he asks you to be his
f1 driver!satoru who is elated to have you as his partner, having you fly out with him whenever you could to his races, explaining everything about formula 1 to you beforehand, chest warming when he realizes how focused you look on his every word
f1 driver!satoru who develops a pre-race ritual with you, having you hype him up and giving him a good luck kiss before the two of you walk out of his driver room and into the garage, he’s zipping up his driver suit and asking you to help adjust his balaclava, smiling when you kiss his nose and wish him luck
f1 driver!satoru who seems to become even better after he started dating you, managing to podium every race and putting up a fight against a dominating red bull team; in every interview he says it’s not only the car but his amazing lover who helps him push every lap
f1 driver!satoru who has a picture of you in his helmet as his lockscreen, and you have one of him in his fireproofs as yours
f1 driverr!satoru who gets dubbed ‘the grids angel boy’ after you commented on his post fresh off his Japan Grand Prix win ‘congratulations my angel boy’
the entire grid loves you, announcers and commentators always excited when you show up to a race, cameras showing you in the Mercedes garage ‘and we have y/n in the garage today!’ you smile brightly at the camera, ‘i guess we know who’s gonna get pole position for qualifying tonight’
f1 driver!satoru who drives you around in his fancy Mercedes, sports and classic cars, exploring every city with you, treating you to expensive food and presents, walking hand in hand with you down the streets of Monaco, taking pictures of you at the beach in Miami and sending flowers when you can’t make it to his races
f1 driver!satoru who is absolutely smitten over you, adding your initial to his helmet hidden among the design, showing it to you with sparkling blue eyes as your heart flutters
f1 driver!satoru who runs to you after every race, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you on the lips before celebrating with his team
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effwon · 1 year ago
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'cause i don't think that they'd understand || ln4 x reader (Part 1)
Summary: Lando just wants to walk down to the garage before the Miami race with you by his side. George and Carmen walked in together, Alex and Lily walked in together, so why can't you, as well? Despite your self-consciousness, you agree to walk hand-in-hand with him down to the garage right before the big race, but it's a much harder ask for you than anyone could ever realize.
Plus-size (she/her) Reader x Lando Norris
Warnings: Brief mentions of nausea/being sick, panic, reader is plus-sized and very down on herself about it, weight mentions, ect.
Characters: Lando Norris (your boyfriend) and feat Oscar Piastri as a last minute saving grace for you.
Rating: G, for now.
“I want you to walk down to the garage with me.”
You blink in surprise, Lando’s words are so sudden and so firm that it makes goosebumps raise on your skin. Walk to the garage with him? But that would mean…
“What? Why?” you ask, folding down the page in the book you’re reading, before placing it down softly on the table beside you. A slugging, churning feeling arises in your gut as you realize exactly what it is he’s asking of you. 
“What do you mean ‘why’? You’re my girlfriend, I want you to walk with me into the garage.” He says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And, perhaps, for any other woman in this world it might just be.
But it isn’t for you. This is quite possibly one of the most difficult things he could ever ask you to do, and that alone makes you feel horrible. Lando deserves a normal girlfriend, who can react normally to very normal situations. Not someone who makes his life even more difficult than it already is.
You sigh heavily, knowing if you refuse you will just upset him. “I - are you sure you want to be seen with me? People will talk and they won’t be nice…” “Babe, we’ve had this conversation before. Just one walk down to the garage with me, that’s all I’m asking.”
You frown again, daring to look up and meet his gaze. He doesn’t seem angry, but there’s a desperation in his eyes, something that tugs at your heartstrings. What Lando doesn’t realize is that the backlash won’t fall too heavily on him - but on you…?
Oh, the fans and the media will eat you up. Lando is dating a fat girl? That will decorate the tabloid headlines for days, perhaps even weeks or months. The thought alone makes you sick. But how can you say no to him when he’s so earnest, when he wants to show you off, regardless if you deserve it or not?
“Yeah, okay.” You finally reply, looking away from Lando and down to the floor. He notices this, however, and kneels down in front of you, grabbing one of your hands in both of his own. His hands are so warm and so immediately comforting, working to ease the rapid beat of your heart in your chest.
“It’ll be okay. I promise. And just think, you’ll finally be able to come see the garage and paddock!” His voice is so cheerful, so genuinely happy and excited for you to be there with him. It’s touching, to say the least, but you are loath to admit that your excitement level is not nearly on par with his. Not even slightly.
“Yeah, I know. I’ve wanted to see them for so long.” The lack of enthusiasm in your voice does dull the excitement in his eyes, but he holds steady. Admirable, really. A trait you wish you could share with him.
“It’s almost time. Why don’t you go ahead and get ready, and we can walk down in about an hour?”
An hour? Well - here’s hoping you can actually make yourself look even somewhat presentable in such a short amount of time.
“You’ll help me pick out my dress, right?” you ask.
The light immediately comes back to his eyes, and he beams at you with the very same smile that won your heart the night you met him.
“Of course! Fashion show time!”
~~
Lando ends up picking the teal colored sundress, something that suits your taste and simultaneously compliments some of your key features. It fits well, with no need for you to suck in your stomach to make it look nicer or more appealing, and hides some of your less than desirable attributes (the rolls, god, the rolls) with ease. 
You feel comfortable enough, with only a light amount of makeup on your face, and your feet are settled into white flats instead of the heels you had originally picked out. Lando liked them as well, but urged you to go for something more comfortable and carefree.
You genuinely do feel okay, but the bitter taste of anxiety still stirs the acid of your stomach as you think about the amount of eyes that will be on you and Lando in a few moments.
“Hey beautiful,” Lando says, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. On instinct, you suck in your stomach to try and lessen the circumference of your belly. Lando tenses, but he doesn’t push the issue, keeping you nestled safely in his arms as he presses a kiss to the back of your neck. “You just about ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” you reply softly, leaning only a portion of your weight back against him. He doesn’t let go for a few moments, and you can feel the warmth of his breath against the shell of your ear. 
“I’m proud of you. I know you’re scared, and I know you’re only doing this for me, but I hope you can manage to enjoy it as well. You may not want the world to know you’re mine, but I do.” Lando explains, nipping at your ear with gentle teeth. It sends a shiver down your spine, and you cannot help but smile at his antics.
“Well, we’ll see what all the news sources are saying in the morning. You know for a fact my issue isn’t being seen with you, it’s you being seen with me.”
“Who cares what they say? How I feel about you is what matters, not what the public thinks about a relationship they know nothing about.” Lando’s voice is firm and leaves no room for argument - likely because this IS an argument the two of you have had time and time again. 
You open your mouth to respond, but Lando’s PR Agent gestures a bit frantically at you both and all of a sudden, Lando is no longer behind you but at your side, lacing your fingers together. 
“Deep breath, babe. It’s go time.”
Oh.
You take a deep breath and hold it in your lungs, fearful that if you breathe at all, you might mess this up entirely. Lando’s hand is warm and firm in your own, steady while your mentality feels anything but. There’s no time to prepare yourself for the walk - Lando is moving and on instinct, you move fluidly alongside him. Your heart is racing impossibly hard in your chest and somehow only gets faster as you step out onto the grass and the sun shines down upon you and Lando like a blinding spotlight.
You hear the clicking of cameras before you see the media snapping shots of you and Lando as you walk hand-in-hand towards the McLaren garage. You can already hear the shouts of fans at home, screaming about how Lando could possibly be dating someone so fat and unattractive when he’s literally a celebrity and could have anyone he wanted. You can see the offensive articles, wondering what’s gone wrong in Lando’s head to be dating someone so average and so unathletic when all of the other drivers are dating what could be (and in some cases ARE) models. 
So many eyes are on you both, and you still haven’t been able to take a breath just yet. You feel Lando’s hand squeeze yours, but you are unable to squeeze back. You just want to be at the garage and tucked back away from the eyes of the media so you can regain your bearings.
And then finally, after what feels like a marathon of a walk, you feel the grass turn to solid ground beneath your feet and the smells of the garage hit your senses like a brick wall. Everything slowly comes back into focus and you realize you’ve finally made it to the other side. Your gut is churning, but you let out the breath you have been holding since you took your first step out and it eases some of the bubbling tension in your chest.
Lando’s hand leaves yours fairly suddenly, but he immediately pops up in your line of sight, beaming at you like you’ve just handed him the sun, the moon, and all the stars. You swallow thickly, hoping to keep down the nausea that threatens you, and offer up a tight smile of your own.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He asks, pulling you in by your waist and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You are still within sight of the media cameras and you hear a few clicking somewhere off to your right, which does little to help quell the nausea. 
“It was fine, yeah.” You say, and it’s incredible just how weak your own voice sounds. “Can we, uh - can we go someplace in the back for a minute? Away from the cameras?”
“Of course,” Lando says, and concern begins to blossom on his features. His eyebrows furrow, gaze focused solely on you as you still try your best to smile at him. “I have to get changed into my kit anyway.”
Lando’s hand is back in yours instantly, and he gently guides you through crew members and winding hallways until you’re far enough away from all of the commotion that you can barely hear it anymore. Your breath is shaky as you inhale, but the relief is almost immediate now that you are out of the public eye.
“Are you okay?” Lando asks after a few seconds of studying your face. “I’m sorry, that was too much, wasn’t it?”
“No, no, no.” you interrupt him, taking another deep breath and letting it out slowly. “It’s just a lot. I’m not used to these kinds of things, not like you are. And there were so many cameras…”
“You learn to ignore the cameras.” He says, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Try not to worry about them, they’re just an annoyance anyway. You’re here to watch me race, and I promise you the McLaren crew will take great care of you while you do.”
Your smile feels a bit more genuine now as the nerves begin to drift off. You know you’ll have cameras in your face likely the entire time Lando is racing, but knowing that you have the support of McLaren while you’re here helps a bit. Lando has been with these people for years now, you can only imagine they’ve grown quite close in that time. 
“I’m sure they will. I - uh - is there a bathroom back here somewhere?” You look around a bit frantically, overcome by the sudden intense nausea that hits you now that the worst of the nerves have tapered off. Sweat builds on your forehead and you begin to feel a bit clammy and lightheaded, but Lando either doesn’t notice, or you’ve managed to keep yourself steady enough as to not rouse suspicion. 
“Oh, yeah, I’ll take you there,” he says, looking around to gain his bearings. He circles his fingers around your wrist and leads you back towards the heart of the garage, but stops before you get to the more heavily trafficked areas. It’s a small, unassuming restroom meant for one person at a time, but it will do. “Here you are. I actually need to change, so I’ll come back for you once I’m set up, okay?”
“Sounds good.” You confirm, leaning in to kiss him when you see him do the same. He offers you a comforting smile and then takes off into the clamor of the garage to get himself ready for the race. You watch him weave through crowds of crew and media personnel, and once he’s no longer within your sight, you turn around and rush into the bathroom without a moment to spare.
The nausea is almost overpowering, and you can’t even make it to the toilet before you feel your stomach rolling. You grasp desperately at the vanity, emptying your nerves into the sink with a violent heave and a shudder. Panic is starting to claw its way up your throat now that you’ve been sick, and you grip the sides of the vanity so tightly that your knuckles turn white. The nausea, thankfully, goes away now that you’ve emptied your stomach into the sink, but a much worse feeling creeps up to take its place.
You reach forward with trembling hands and turn on the sink, cleaning out the mess you’ve just made. Thankfully, a few splashes of water around the sink (and a few swishes in your mouth) manage to clean out everything so there’s no evidence left of your struggle.
You back yourself against the wall now, feeling your heart beating faster all over again, and the sweat begins to feel cold on your forehead. Panic is no new sensation, but you can’t help but curse the timing of this attack. It makes sense - given the overstimulation and the nervousness you just fought your way through, but you had hoped deep in your heart that you would be able to handle this without a breakdown.
You could not have been more wrong.
You begin to take deep, shuddering breaths at far too rapid a pace. You know you have to get your breathing under control, or this will spiral until you’re pathetically hyperventilating alone in a McLaren bathroom. You rush forward to turn the water back on, hoping that splashing some on your face might help snap you out of it, when you hear the handle of the restroom door jiggle.
Your stomach lurches again when you realize in your haste, you forgot to lock the door.
“Yeah, mate. I’ll be back in a few.” You hear a familiar voice say, muffled slightly by the noise buzzing around the garage.
As soon as the person steps inside the restroom and your eyes meet, you feel like you could be sick again. It’s none other than Oscar Piastri, Lando’s teammate and friend at McLaren, and he’s staring at you with wide, concerned eyes.
“Hey,” he greets, and it’s so incredibly soft - as if he might be speaking to a cornered, wounded animal. “Hey, are you alright?”
You can’t reply to him just yet - your breathing is out of control and nausea is hitting you again from the depths of absolute hell. As if this day couldn’t have possibly gotten any worse, you WOULD have a mental breakdown in front of Lando’s teammate.
You simply stare back at him in shock, like he’s the most terrifying thing you could possibly see, and you finally manage to choke out a weak and pitiful, “No.”
You watch as Oscar gently locks the door behind you both - a blessing, really, to keep anyone else from walking in on you in such an embarrassing state. He keeps his expression neutral, only taking one step into the bathroom with his hands palm-up to show he means no harm.
“You need to breathe, okay? Think you can breathe with me?” Oscar asks, his voice echoing in the small space. He swallows thickly, another sound that’s easy to pick up in the confined space, but he patiently waits for you to respond.
“I don’t - I don’t know -” you reply, hands slapping against the wall as you try to find something to grip onto for balance. “I don’t know.”
“Why don’t we give it a try, at least?” Oscar tries again, looking far more concerned than you think he has any right to be. He hardly knows you, after all.
“I - I can -” but the words die on your lips as your legs give out beneath you. You fall to your knees on the tile floor and that’s when Oscar jumps quickly into action. You feel unfamiliar arms wrap around your shoulders, a cushion to keep your head from smashing against the floor, and the last thing you see are Oscar’s frightened eyes above you, the echo of your name frantically erupting from the back of his throat as your vision fades out.
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