#ln1

You disappear from the paddock long before anyone realises they should be worried.

At first, it’s subtle — you skip a race weekend because of “family commitments,” then another because of “travel fatigue.” Lando posts a few photos of you at home, curled into his side on the sofa, your face tucked into his hoodie. He captions one “my favourite place”, and the fans melt.

But then the photos stop.

And the speculation starts.

You’re in your third trimester by then, belly round and heavy, ankles swollen, back aching in ways you didn’t know were possible. Lando is glued to your side every moment he’s not in the car, massaging your calves, kissing your bump, whispering to your unborn baby like they can already understand him.

But the world doesn’t know that.

The world only knows you’ve vanished.

And they notice.

---

THE RUMOURS

It starts with a gossip account posting a photo of you from months ago — a tiny bump barely visible beneath a sundress.

“Has anyone else noticed she’s gained weight?”

“She hasn’t been to a GP in ages.”

“Did they break up?”

“Maybe he finally realised she wasn’t ‘trophy wife’ material.”

Lando sees it all.

He pretends he doesn’t.

But you catch him one night, sitting on the edge of the bed, jaw clenched, phone glowing in his hand. He looks up at you with eyes that are too bright, too angry.

“Baby,” you whisper, waddling toward him, “don’t read that.”

“They’re talking about you like you’re disposable,” he says, voice tight. “Like you’re not the strongest person I’ve ever met. Like you’re not literally growing our child.”

You cup his face, thumbs brushing his cheeks. “Let them talk. We know the truth.”

He kisses your palm, then your bump. “I just hate that you’re not there to defend yourself.”

“I’m busy,” you say softly, “making a whole human.”

He laughs, forehead pressed to your belly. “Yeah. The most important job.”

---

THE BIRTH

It’s quiet.

Private.

Exactly what you wanted.

Lando cries harder than the baby does. He holds your daughter like she’s made of glass, whispering, “Hi, sweetheart… I’m your dad… I’m so lucky.”

You spend the next weeks in a cocoon — sleepless, messy, beautiful. Lando is obsessed, constantly shirtless with the baby on his chest, humming to her, pacing the house at 3 a.m. like it’s the most sacred duty in the world.

The world still doesn’t know.

And honestly? You don’t care.

Not until you’re ready.

---

THE RETURN

Three months postpartum, you finally feel steady again. Strong. Ready to step back into the world.

Lando is the one who suggests it.

“Come to the next GP,” he says, bouncing your daughter gently. “If you want. No pressure. But… I think you deserve to walk in there and shut everyone up.”

You smirk. “You just want to show her off.”

He grins. “Absolutely.”

---

THE CHAOS

The moment you step out of the car, baby strapped to your chest in a tiny papaya-coloured carrier, the paddock erupts.

People freeze.

Cameras whip around.

Someone screams.

You hear:

“OH MY GOD—”

“IS THAT—”

“SHE HAD A BABY?!”

“LANDO’S A DAD?!”

“THEY WEREN’T BROKEN UP?!”

“SHE WAS PREGNANT THE WHOLE TIME?!”

Lando steps out behind you, one hand on your back, the other adjusting the baby’s sunhat like this is the most normal day of his life.

He kisses your temple. “Ready?”

“Not even slightly.”

He laughs and laces his fingers with yours. “Too late.”

The media swarms, but Lando shields you with his body, guiding you through the chaos. Every driver stops mid‑conversation, jaws dropping.

Carlos is the first to recover.

He jogs over, eyes wide. “You had a baby? A whole baby? And you didn’t tell me?”

Lando shrugs. “You never asked.”

“LAN—”

But then he sees her tiny fist poking out of the carrier and melts instantly.

“Oh my god,” Carlos whispers. “She’s so small.”

“Tell her that,” Lando mutters. “She disagrees at 3 a.m.”

---

THE INTERVIEW

Lando stands in front of the Sky Sports mic, arm around your waist.

“So, Lando,” the reporter says, still stunned, “there were… rumours about your relationship. About your wife’s absence. About her weight gain.”

Lando’s smile drops.

Completely.

“My wife,” he says slowly, “was pregnant. She was resting. She was taking care of our daughter. And anyone who made comments about her body should be embarrassed.”

The reporter swallows. “And how do you feel now that the world knows you’re a father?”

Lando looks at you.

At the baby.

At the chaos around you.

And he beams.

“I feel like the luckiest man alive.”

---

AFTER

The internet explodes.

Fan accounts cry.

Critics delete tweets.

Your name trends for 48 hours straight.

And that night, when the baby is asleep in her travel cot and you’re curled into Lando’s chest in the hotel bed, he kisses your forehead and whispers:

“Thank you for giving me a family.”

You smile against his skin. “Thank you for protecting us.”

He pulls you closer, voice soft and certain.

“Always.”

ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ - ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʟʟᴏᴡ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ.

The comments under McLaren’s posts were flooding in, most of them riding the vegan joke. People were being incredibly creative, but you knew the team was not amused.

Two days later, they sent you in to scold him. Again. By now it was routine, they kept choosing you because you two had become something like friends, you were close in age, and they thought he’d actually listen to you. They repeated the talking points one more time and sent you in.

Lando was already there, sitting in the small meeting room, phone in hand. He looked like a kid who knew he was in trouble but was still a little proud of himself. When you walked in, he put the phone down.

“Hi, Lando,” you said, sitting down across from him.

“Hey,” he replied, giving you a small smile.

You kept your voice steady and professional, exactly as they’d instructed.

“Lando, we cannot allow you to be seen wearing a t-shirt with such a message. It’s inappropriate, it damages the team’s public image, and it puts our sponsors in a very uncomfortable position. We have a responsibility to maintain professionalism, especially when you’re easily recognizable...”

You actually managed to stay serious through most of it. Lando was biting the inside of his cheek, trying not to smile. But the longer you spoke, the more ridiculous the whole situation felt.

“So from now on, we need you to think more carefully about what you wear when you might be filmed and...”

A small snort escaped you.

You tried to hold it together, but it was too late. Lando broke first, laughing, and then you followed, both of you cracking up.

“Wait ... I broke character,” you said, still laughing as you covered your face for a second. “Why do they keep sending me? They know I find this stuff funny instead of actually scolding you properly. You need someone who’s going to shake some sense into you.”

You tried to pull yourself together. “But seriously, we can’t have this. People online might find it funny, but it’s not good for the sponsors. You can do whatever you want in your free time, but you have to be smarter about who you’re with and what you’re doing when cameras are around. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said, still amused. “I’ll stop. I’ll be good, I promise.”

“That’s what you told me last time too,” you reminded him, half laughing, half serious. “I’m laughing with you, but I’m also serious. You understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said playfully. Then his tone shifted a little. “You know… I saw some old photos on your Instagram. You looked like a real party animal back then.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “What? Are you stalking my Instagram? And I still haven’t deleted those?”

“Oh come on,” he laughed. “I know you’re still a party girl at heart. It’s funny that you’re the one scolding me for having fun.”

“I’m not scolding you for having fun,” you said. “I’m scolding you because you got filmed wearing a t-shirt that says ‘eat pussy it’s vegan’. That’s not a good PR look, even if it’s funny.”

Lando leaned forward, smirking. “Come on… ‘eat pussy it’s vegan’? You have to admit it’s a good one.”

You shook your head, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah, it’s bold. So… you’re actually a munch?”

The question came out more direct than you intended, but you’d always been pretty straightforward with him.

“Yeah,” he said seriously. “I am.”

You felt your ears getting warm. “From what I’ve seen online, girls go crazy over that. So you might lose some points with PR, but you probably gained a lot in your DMs.”

Lando held your gaze. “Do you like it too?”

Your heart skipped. “What?”

“A guy who’s a munch,” he clarified, voice lower.

You swallowed, suddenly a little shy. “What woman doesn’t?”

He smiled slowly. “If you want a demonstration, you can verify whenever you want.”

Was Lando Norris actually flirting with you? Of course he was, he flirted with everyone. Still, you knew what type of guy he was. You weren’t about to fall for it.

“No, thank you,” you said quickly.

“Oh come on,” he pushed gently. “I know deep down you’re a fun person. That’s why they always send you. We have the same humor. You get me, even when you have to deliver all the PR lines.”

“And what exactly do you want from me, Lando?”

“To go out with me. Have some actual fun. I know you’re bored of this PR shit too.”

“Are you insane?” you asked, half laughing, half shocked. “Do you want me to lose my job?”

He clocked you immediately. “You’re not saying no because you’re not interested. You’re saying no because of the job.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it.

Lando leaned in with that dangerous little grin. “How about you come to my driver’s room for a little demonstration of my ‘vegan era’?”

You stared at him, completely caught off guard. A nervous laugh escaped you.

“You’re actually serious right now?”

“Dead serious,” he said, eyes locked on yours.

You shook your head, heart racing. “Lando… this is insane. I can’t just...”

“You can,” he cut in softly. “No one has to know. Thirty minutes. Just us.”

You bit your lip, looking away for a second. Every logical part of your brain was screaming at you to shut this down immediately. This was your job. Your reputation. Your future at McLaren. But there was also this stupid, curious, tired-of-being-responsible part of you that was… tempted.

You let out a long breath and rubbed your temple.

“I’m going to regret this,” you muttered.

Lando’s smirk grew, but he stayed quiet, letting you think. You looked back at him, serious now.

“Fine. But only if you swear and I mean actually swear that you will not cause any PR mess for the rest of the season. No stupid shirts, no viral videos, no drama. Nothing. That’s my only condition. If you break this, I’m done. This never happens again and I stop covering for you.”

Lando didn’t hesitate. He extended his hand toward you, expression more sincere than usual.

“I swear. Best behavior until the end of the season. You have my word.”

You stared at his hand for a few long seconds, still fighting with yourself. Then, slowly, you reached out and shook it.

“Okay,” you said quietly, almost like you couldn’t believe what you were agreeing to. “Thirty minutes. You go first. I’ll come after.”

After you left the room, you told him you’d come by in thirty minutes. First you had to face the rest of the PR team.

“So?” your boss asked as soon as you walked in.

“He won’t cause any more PR issues. He learned his lesson and swore he’ll behave.”

“And we should believe him?” someone else asked.

“I think so. I was harder on him this time. Really tried to scare him a bit,” you said.

Your boss nodded. “Good. I knew sending you was the right call, you’re the only one he actually listens to. If he keeps his word and stays clean, I’ll put you up for a promotion and a raise. You’ve been doing excellent work.”

That was exactly the motivation you needed.

But now you had to figure out how to keep Lando in line for the rest of the season. Easier said than done.

More than thirty minutes passed while you finished talking with the team. You finally slipped away, heart racing. You felt like you were back in high school sneaking out, except this time you were sneaking in. You checked left, right, behind you, then quietly opened the door to his driver’s room and stepped inside.

Lando was waiting.

“You’re late,” he said, amused.

“I was busy lying to my boss about how well you took the scolding,” you muttered. “Listen, Lando, if you actually behave until the end of the season, they’re giving me a promotion. I’ve only been here two months. This is huge for me. So please… be on your best behavior. Let me have this.”

You kept talking, nervous and rambling, until Lando stepped forward. He gently pushed you backward onto the small sofa in his driver’s room, spreading your legs. The moment his palm pressed over your pants, right against your pussy, your words died in your throat.

You were already getting wet. He could feel it.

Lando smirked at your reaction, he’d liked you from the first day.

He worked your jeans down slowly, leaving you in just your panties and team kit top. His eyes raked over you.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he murmured.

“What are you doing?” you breathed.

“A demonstration,” he said, teasing your pussy over the thin fabric with his fingers until your hips jerked against his hand.

He got tired of the teasing, hooked your panties to the side, then pulled them off completely. He spread your legs wide, staring.

“What a pretty pussy,” he whispered, voice rough. “Looks delicious.”

“Is it vegan?” you managed to tease, voice shaky.

“We’ll have to try it and find out.”

He lowered his head. You felt his hot breath on your clit first, then his tongue : slow, warm, and devastating. He licked a long stripe up your folds before focusing on your clit, sucking it between his lips and flicking his tongue.

You slapped a hand over your mouth to keep quiet. The walls were thin.

Lando ate you like you were his last meal. He wasn’t lying. He worked your clit with perfect pressure, sliding two thick fingers inside you, curling them against that spot that made your vision blur. Your thighs shook around his head as the first orgasm crashed over you hard. You came on his tongue, biting your palm to muffle the moan.

He didn’t stop.

Even as you twitched from oversensitivity, he kept licking and fingering you slower, deeper, until a second, even stronger orgasm ripped through you. By the time he finally pulled back, you were trembling and boneless on the sofa.

Lando wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking incredibly satisfied. Your pussy was still pulsing. He gave it a light, playful slap that made you jolt, then grabbed the towel he’d wisely placed earlier and some tissues. He cleaned you up slowly and gently, careful because you were so sensitive, then leaned in and kissed your hair.

“So?” you asked breathlessly. “Was it vegan?”

“Hell yeah,” he grinned. “But I’ll need to try it again to be completely sure.”

You laughed weakly. “That was a one-time thing, Norris…But if you actually stay good until the end of the season like you promised, I might let you do it again.”