#WERE ALMOST AT THE PLOT TWIST | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

neferaskingdom · 5 days ago

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♡ Deal Me In | LN4

Summary: What do you do when you're bored on a plane? Play strip poker, lose all your layers, and try not to combust as Lando can’t seem to keep his hands to himself.

LANDO NORRIS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

The hum of the plane’s engines filled her ears as the small group lounged in plush seats. Y/n sat nestled between Oscar and Max, the remains of a half-eaten dessert table before them. She’d spent most of the evening quietly nursing a cup of hot chocolate and trying to ignore Lando, who now sat across from her, his curls slightly tousled from running his fingers through them all evening. Every so often, Lando would glance in her direction, his eyes crinkling with mischief, and her stomach would twist into knots.

“I’m bored,” Max Fewtrell groaned, slumping dramatically in his seat. “We need entertainment.”

“We’re on a private plane with unlimited snacks,” Oscar pointed out, not looking up from his phone. “How are you bored?”

“Let’s do something fun,” Sam chimed in, a mischievous glint in his eye as he stretched lazily. “Cards?” His tone carried an almost daring edge, like he was already plotting something outrageous.

“Poker?” Lando suggested, leaning forward with a grin.

“Strip poker,” Max countered, his grin widening. “Spice it up.”

Y/n’s cheeks heated instantly. “Strip poker? Really?”

“Why not?” Max said. “It’s just us. We’ll make it fair—you can take off something small like your hoodie or just pay cash. No pressure.”

She hesitated, glancing around. Lando’s eyes were on her, a teasing spark in them. “You in?” he asked, voice soft but challenging.

“Fine,” she relented, trying to appear nonchalant. What’s the worst that could happen?

As the cards were dealt, the tension in the cabin shifted. There was a buzz of excitement in the air that made her pulse race. Lando, turns out was terrible at poker. Absolutely, horrifically terrible. By the second hand, he was down his jacket. The third, his shirt. By the fifth, he was sitting in nothing but his boxers, his bare chest on full display.

“Lando, mate, how are you this bad?” Max laughed, nearly doubling over.

“Poker’s a strategy game,” Oscar chimed in smugly, adjusting his pristine hoodie. “Something he clearly lacks.”

“Shut up, Osc,” Lando shot back, throwing his cards onto the table with mock frustration.

Y/n couldn’t stop glancing at him, every peek sending her pulse racing. The way his muscles moved as he shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, the faint outline of his collarbone under the cabin lights, the hint of a smirk that tugged at his lips whenever he caught her looking—it was almost unbearable. Her crush was spinning out of control, he was so comfortable in his skin. How was he so nonchalant sitting there half-naked like that?

Sam had lost his socks and sweater, and Max was sitting shirtless, laughing at Lando’s misfortune. Oscar, however, sat fully clothed, a devious glint in his eye as he slid his winnings closer. He was playing them all, and they could do nothing to stop him.

“You’re a menace,” Sam muttered, glaring at Oscar as he folded yet another hand. “Do you plan on bankrupting us?”

“Maybe,” Oscar replied smoothly, his grin unrepentant. “But you’ll never know.”

“Y/n, your turn,” Oscar said, and she bit her lip, focusing on her cards. Her hoodie was already gone, leaving her in a fitted shirt and shorts. She’d never been more aware of how close Lando was sitting, their thighs brushing whenever one of them shifted. Each accidental touch sent electricity up her spine, her thoughts tumbling into dangerous territory.

Lando leaned over to peek at her cards, his shoulder brushing hers. “You’ve got this,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, her thoughts a chaotic mess of 'he’s so close' and 'does he even realize what he’s doing to me?'

The closeness was overwhelming. She caught the faint scent of his cologne, something subtle but undeniably him, and it left her dizzy. Her fingers fumbled on her cards, the tips of her ears burning as his gaze lingered a moment too long.

She lost the hand, of course. How could she focus with Lando practically pressed against her?

“Tough luck,” he teased, leaning back with a lazy grin. “Maybe next round.”

She tried to glare at him but failed miserably, her lips quirking despite herself. “Maybe if someone wasn’t distracting me.”

“Oh, it’s my fault now?” he shot back, his grin widening. His knee bumped hers under the table, lingering just a second too long. Her skin tingled where they touched, the casual intimacy making her head spin. He shifted slightly and then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, placed his hand on her exposed thigh. The warmth of his palm seeped through her skin, igniting a spark that made her breath hitch. He didn’t move it, didn’t acknowledge it, and yet the sensation was impossible to ignore.

Her mind raced, thoughts bouncing between 'is this intentional?' and 'why do I like this?' Her heart thudded wildly as she tried to focus on the game, but his touch was all she could think about. Every move of her hand, every glance at her cards, every time he leaned closer—she was hyper-aware of his presence, of his hand casually resting on her leg like it belonged there.

As the game continued, Y/n found herself hyper-focused on Lando. The way he laughed—loud and unrestrained—when Max lost his watch in a side bet. The way his fingers drummed against the table when he was thinking. The way his eyes would dart to her, softening in a way that made her feel like the only person in the room. Every movement, every laugh, every word felt amplified.

By the time they called it quits, Lando was down to his boxers, and Y/n was fighting the urge to combust. The sight of him was doing things to her sanity. She stood to stretch, her shirt riding up slightly, and she caught Lando’s gaze flickering to her exposed skin. Heat bloomed in her cheeks as she quickly tugged it back down, her heart racing at the thought that he’d noticed.

“Well, that was fun,” Max declared, tossing his cards on the table dramatically.

"Fun?" Sam scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "It was brutal. I lost everything but my dignity."

"Dignity?" Oscar quipped, leaning back smugly. "I didn’t know you had any left after that last round."

Sam shot him a glare, while Max burst out laughing. "You’re just mad because the kid hustled you," Max teased, pointing a finger at Sam. "Admit it, Oscar’s the real MVP of this game."

“More like the real pain in my ass,” Sam muttered under his breath, crossing his arms.

“Hey, don’t hate the player, hate the game,” Oscar said with a grin, scooping up the cards like a seasoned dealer. "Speaking of which, anyone want a rematch?"

“No way,” Lando groaned, leaning back in his seat. “I’ve got nothing left to lose. Literally."

"You’re still wearing your boxers," Max pointed out with a sly grin. "I mean, if you’re up for it…"

Lando threw a pillow at him. "Not a chance, mate."

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at their antics, the tension from the game easing into lighthearted banter. Sam stretched with an exaggerated yawn. "Alright, I’m calling it. I need sleep after this emotional rollercoaster."

As Sam and Max bickered playfully on their way to the back of the plane, Oscar leaned over to Y/n with a conspiratorial grin. "Not bad for your first game. You almost didn’t lose everything."

"Almost," she replied, rolling her eyes, though her smile gave her away. Oscar winked, then retreated back to his own seat, leaving her alone with Lando.

Y/n sank back into her seat, exhaustion and adrenaline making her head spin. Lando plopped down beside her, his knee brushing hers again. This time, neither of them moved away. The space between them felt charged.

“You’re quiet,” Lando said, his voice low enough that only she could hear. His tone was so gentle, so intimate, it sent a shiver down her spine. She swallowed hard, trying to steady her breath, but her heart hammered against her ribs. The way his voice wrapped around her name, the way it felt like they were the only two people in the world—it was overwhelming.

Lando tilted his head, studying her with that easy, unreadable expression that always made her chest feel tight. “What are your plans for the break?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, the hum of the plane’s engines only amplifying how intimate it felt.

Y/n shrugged, trying to sound casual despite her pulse hammering. “Nothing special. Probably just rot in bed and catch up on sleep,” she replied, offering a small laugh.

He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling and warm. “Solid plan,” he said, leaning back slightly. “Honestly, same. Once I get through some work, I’m thinking of crashing for a few days. Might actually try doing nothing for once.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but her words caught in her throat as his hand reached out toward her. His fingers brushed a strand of hair away from her face, the touch so light it almost tickled, leaving a faint warmth in its wake. Her breath hitched, and her heart skipped a beat as his thumb lingered, trailing down to the edge of her ear.

He stopped there, thumbing at the small earring she’d forgotten she was even wearing, his eyes flickering between it and her face. A small smile tugged at his lips, like he’d found some secret he wasn’t planning to share. “This is pretty,” he murmured, his voice low, intimate.

Her throat went dry. She wanted to say something—anything—but all she managed was a quiet, “Oh, uh… thanks.”

He dropped his hand and leaned back, as if the moment hadn’t completely knocked the wind out of her. “So,” he said, seamlessly changing the subject, “what’s fun to do in London? I’m staying there in December for a bit before heading back to Monaco.”

It took her a second to process the words, her mind still stuck on the ghost of his touch. “Oh, uh, there’s… there’s a lot,” she said quickly, eager to cover her awkward pause. “Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park is great for Christmas stuff, and there are the lights on Oxford Street. Ice skating at Somerset House is really popular too. Oh, and the Southbank Christmas markets—you’d love those.”

Lando smiled, the kind of smile that made her knees feel weak, even though she was sitting. “You really know all the good spots,” he said, his voice softer now, almost teasing. “Maybe you should show me around.”

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. She managed a weak laugh, trying to brush off the tension. “What, like a date?”

His smile turned into a grin, slow and deliberate. “Exactly,” he said without hesitation, his voice dropping just slightly. “But only if you want it to be.”

Y/n’s brain short-circuited. His words hung in the air, and for a moment, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. Was he serious? Did he mean that the way it sounded?

She opened her mouth to respond, but her words tangled together in a mess of vowels and half-formed thoughts. “I-I—well, I don’t—uh…”

His hand moved again, and her breath hitched as he rested it lightly on her thigh. His thumb began tracing slow, deliberate circles, the motion so casual yet so maddeningly distracting that her entire focus narrowed to the warmth of his touch.

He didn’t rush her. His gaze stayed locked on hers, steady and patient, the weight of his hand grounding her even as her mind spiraled.

“Hey,” he said gently, his voice low and soothing, cutting through her spiraling thoughts. “It’s just me. No pressure. But… I’d really like to take you out. Properly.”

Her pulse was racing, her skin tingling where his thumb continued its slow, lazy circles. Was this actually happening? Was he really asking her out? And why did his touch feel so good? like he already knew what made her heart skip and her breath hitch?

She nodded, a tiny, almost imperceptible movement, but it was enough. A grin spread across Lando’s face, and his thumb stilled, pressing gently into her thigh for just a moment before he pulled his hand away.

“That’s settled then,” he said, his tone light but undeniably pleased.

The moment felt like it should have ended there, but then he shivered dramatically, crossing his arms with a loud sigh. “Man, it’s freezing in here,” he complained, his voice breaking the tension like a knife through butter.

She blinked, startled by the sudden change, and then he was leaning back, shouting toward the rear of the plane. “Max! Throw me your hoodie, mate!”

“What happened to yours?” Max called back, clearly annoyed.

“Lost it to poker!” Lando replied, unapologetic. “Now, come on, be a bro!”

With an exaggerated groan, Max hurled a hoodie forward. Lando caught it one-handed, pulling it over his head with a satisfied grin. “Thanks, mate,” he said cheerfully.

Before she could process what had just happened, Lando leaned in close again, the sudden proximity making her stomach flip. He pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to her cheek, the warmth of his lips lingering like a brand.

"Night, beautiful," he murmured, his voice a smooth caress that made her breath hitch.

And then he leaned back, resting his head against the seat with an exaggerated sigh. Within moments, his eyes drifted shut, his breathing evening out as he started to doze.

Y/n sat frozen, her hand instinctively lifting to touch the spot on her cheek where his lips had been. Her thoughts spiraled out of control, Did that just happen? Is this a dream? Her heart pounded so loudly she could barely hear the others laughing and bickering in the background.

She snuck a glance at him, his face now peaceful in sleep, his hair messy against the back of the seat. Even asleep, he was unfairly attractive. Her mind replayed every moment—the warmth of his hand on her thigh, the teasing way he’d said “beautiful,” the feel of his lips against her skin—and she was certain she wasn’t going to survive the rest of the flight without combusting. What the hell just happened? she thought, pressing her lips together to hide the smile threatening to break free.

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