#ln1

The Quadrant studio is buzzing in that familiar, chaotic way — lights half‑set up, someone’s left a half‑eaten packet of crisps on the main table, and Max Fewtrell is already narrating everything like he’s David Attenborough observing a rare species.

“Here we have,” Max says dramatically, pointing the camera at you as you walk in, “the long‑suffering girlfriend of Lando Norris. She has survived years of his nonsense. Truly, a national treasure.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “Morning to you too, Max.”

Lando pops his head out from behind a lighting rig, curls messy, hoodie half‑zipped, grin bright enough to power the entire set. “Hi, love.”

He crosses the room in three long strides and wraps his arms around you, lifting you slightly off the ground. He smells like his usual mix of cologne and whatever shampoo he stole from you this week.

“You ready to lose?” he murmurs into your hair.

“You’re adorable,” you say, patting his cheek, “but you’re absolutely going to embarrass yourself today.”

Max gasps loudly. “Conflict. Drama. Romance. This is better than Netflix.”

---

🎬 THE SETUP

The Quadrant crew finally gets everything in place — two chairs, a small table with whiteboards and markers, and a camera pointed directly at you and Lando. Max insists on being the off‑screen host, which everyone agrees to mostly because it’s easier than arguing.

Lando pulls your chair closer to his, knees bumping yours. He’s already smiling at you like he’s forgotten the rest of the world exists.

“Stop looking at her like that,” Max groans. “We get it. You’re in love. Disgusting.”

Lando flips him off without breaking eye contact with you.

The camera starts rolling.

---

🎥 TAKE ONE

“Welcome back to Quadrant,” Max announces in his best presenter voice. “Today we have Lando Norris and his childhood sweetheart, the only person who’s known him longer than his hairdresser.”

Lando snorts. “That’s not true.”

“Is it not?” Max asks. “Because I’ve seen the photos. The bowl cut era was dark.”

You laugh, leaning into Lando’s shoulder. “I was there for that.”

“Trauma bonding,” Max says. “Beautiful.”

Lando squeezes your hand under the table. “Okay, first question,” he says, trying to take control. “Let’s go.”

Max clears his throat. “What is your partner’s go‑to comfort food?”

You immediately start writing. Lando stares at his blank board like it’s a complex physics equation.

“Don’t overthink it,” you tease.

“I’m not,” he lies.

Max leans over his shoulder. “He’s absolutely overthinking it.”

You finish your answer and hold your board close to your chest. Lando finally scribbles something down.

“Three, two, one — reveal!”

You flip your boards.

You: Pasta. Always pasta.

Lando: Her mum’s pasta.

Your heart does a little flip.

“Aww,” Max says. “That’s actually cute. Gross, but cute.”

Lando beams. “See? I know things.”

“You know one thing,” you correct.

He nudges your knee with his. “It’s the important thing.”

---

🎥 TAKE TWO — THE CHAOS BEGINS

Max reads the next question. “What is your partner’s biggest fear?”

Lando immediately writes something down, smirking.

You narrow your eyes. “If you write something stupid—”

“I would never,” he says, which is the biggest lie he’s ever told.

You write your answer carefully. Lando finishes his in two seconds and sits back, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Reveal!”

You flip your boards.

You: Losing the people I love.

Lando: Spiders. And Max’s cooking.

Max gasps. “My cooking is incredible.”

“Your cooking is a war crime,” Lando says.

You elbow him. “I meant emotionally.”

Lando’s expression softens instantly. He reaches over, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “Yeah. I know. I just… didn’t want to make it heavy.”

You smile at him, and he smiles back, and Max groans loudly.

“Can you two stop having a moment? This is a YouTube video, not a wedding.”

---

🎥 TAKE THREE — THE CHILDHOOD SWEETHEART ROUND

Max grins like he’s been waiting for this. “Since you two have known each other since you were tiny, let’s test your memory. What was your first impression of each other?”

You laugh. “Oh no.”

Lando’s already writing, shaking his head.

You write yours slowly, remembering the moment — the awkward, shy, adorable little boy with messy hair and big dreams.

“Reveal!”

You flip your boards.

You: Thought he was cute but painfully shy.

Lando: Thought she was way too pretty to ever talk to me.

Your breath catches. “Lan…”

He shrugs, cheeks pink. “It’s true.”

Max clutches his chest. “I’m going to be sick.”

Lando ignores him completely. “I remember it so clearly. You were wearing that little blue jumper and you smiled at me and I swear I forgot how to speak.”

“You still forget how to speak,” Max mutters.

Lando throws a marker at him.

---

🎥 TAKE FOUR — THE SPICY ROUND

Max wiggles his eyebrows. “What is your partner’s most annoying habit?”

Lando immediately points at you. “She steals my hoodies.”

You raise your eyebrows. “You literally give them to me.”

“That’s not the point.”

You write your answer, biting back a smile.

“Reveal!”

You: He leaves wet towels everywhere. EVERYWHERE.

Lando: She steals my hoodies.

Max bursts out laughing. “Domestic life with Lando Norris. Riveting.”

Lando groans. “Okay, fine, I leave towels around. But you look cute in my hoodies.”

You grin. “So you admit it.”

“I admit nothing.”

---

🎥 TAKE FIVE — THE HEART MELTER

Max clears his throat dramatically. “Last question. What is the moment you knew you were in love?”

Lando freezes.

You freeze.

The room goes quiet.

You start writing slowly, heart thudding. Lando stares at his board for a long moment before writing something down with surprising seriousness.

“Reveal,” Max says softly.

You flip your boards.

You: When he held my hand at his first karting race because he was nervous.

Lando: When she held my hand at my first karting race because I was nervous.

You blink.

He blinks.

Max whispers, “Oh my god.”

Lando reaches for your hand across the table. “I didn’t think you remembered that.”

“Of course I remember,” you say, voice soft. “You were shaking.”

“You squeezed my hand,” he says. “And I thought… if she’s here, I’ll be okay.”

Your eyes sting a little.

Max fans himself dramatically. “This is too much. I’m going to combust.”

Lando leans over and kisses your cheek, lingering there for a moment. “I love you,” he murmurs, quiet enough that only you hear it.

You squeeze his hand. “I love you too.”

---

🎬 AFTER THE CAMERAS STOP

The moment the camera cuts, Max throws himself onto the table.

“You two are unbearable,” he groans. “I’m editing this and I’m adding clown music over every romantic moment.”

Lando flips him off again. “Do that and I’ll replace all your voiceovers with a kazoo.”

You laugh, standing up and stretching. Lando immediately wraps his arms around your waist from behind, chin on your shoulder.

“You were amazing,” he says softly.

“You were adorable.”

He kisses your cheek again. “We should do more videos together.”

Max groans. “Absolutely not.”

Lando ignores him. “Maybe a cooking challenge.”

“You’d lose,” you say.

He gasps. “Rude.”

“True,” Max adds.

Lando throws another marker at him.

---

🎥 THE FINAL MOMENT

As you’re packing up, Lando grabs your hand and pulls you back toward him.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Thanks for doing this with me.”

You smile. “Anytime.”

He leans in, kissing you properly this time — slow, warm, familiar. The kind of kiss that feels like home.

Max walks by, covering his eyes. “I’m blind. I’m actually blind.”

Lando breaks the kiss just long enough to shout, “Shut up, Max!”

Then he kisses you again.

Lando is big on protection when it comes to sex. But it's y/n who insisted on condoms and he thought it would just be till she was comfortable, but somehow 2 months into daily sex, usually more than once a day. Lando's putting more money into condoms than anything else right now.

He can't help but want to remove that barrier.

He wants to feel her, he wants nothing between them and while it's never mattered to him before. For some reason the thought of filling her with his cum and watch it leak out of her.

That thought unlocks some sort of feral animal in him that's been dormant.

He can't help it.

And now he's rolling yet another condom down his length, lust-filled eyes gliding over to y/n where she's lying, swollen lips, hickeys across her chest. He's already got her in a heat.

Admittedly teasing her the whole dinner and whispering filth in her ear at every opportunity got her exactly as riled up as he was aiming for.

"Ready for me baby?" Lando asks already knowing the answer, he can see her dripping in a wet patch on the sheets.

He loves when she gets too needy to form words that are anything less than begging. Her whimper and positioning herself from kneeling on her knees to dropping back onto her back with her legs spread, a true offering of herself open to him.

"Oh baby." Lando chuckles moving over her, not wasting time with anymore foreplay. He slides into her with only the tightness of him not having been inside her in the past 12 hours enveloping him as a form of making it harder to fuck her.

Their moans fill the air and Lando pulls her towards himself, his thrusts getting deeper and harder. Y/n moans and whines at him, his name reverbing off the walls before he whispers more filth into her ear. Promises of wrecking her, making her scream, leaving a permanent mark in her.

He builds himself up just as much as she does.

"Baby, I want to feel you. Properly." Lando states making her look at him, eyes already teary from the stimulation. "Fuck. Baby, I need to feel you. Let me take it off. It'll feel so good. So so good."

Y/n whines bucking her hips into his, one hand moving from gripping the sheets to his bicep and for a moment he thinks that's her stopping him from daring to take it off.

"Please. I wanna feel you." Y/n whimpers, nails cutting into his skin. Her actions betraying her words.

"You'll love this, baby." Lando promises, leaning down, kissing her neck as he slips out of her.

"Lando." Y/n huffs from the loss as he reaches down almost grimacing from the speed he pulls the condom off and tosses it aside without thought. He'll pick it up later.

He takes a couple heavy breaths, excitement of this moment making the air prickle with electricity that makes her breath hitch before he slides back into her, and while he's aware that it's more about what he feels that what she feels. But y/n shudders at the feeling.

Y/n can feel more of him, the veins, every ridge of his dick no longer smoothed by latex brushing through her walls making her moan, bearing down to try and feel more of him.

"Lando, please." Y/n moans writhing underneath him.

"Fuck. You feel incredible, baby. How have I waited this long?" Lando grunts not feeling like any word describes how y/n feels wrapped around him. "You were made for me. This pussy was made for me."

Y/n twitches around him, her orgasm nearing more.

"You going to let me fill you up, baby? Going to let me make you mine once and for all? No going back after this." Lando states since he's pretty sure hitting it raw is an addiction.

It's like heroin, one hit and he's already hooked on the feeling. He'll chase this high for the rest of his life and he'll keep getting his hits every time she lets him feel her pussy around him.

Y/n's orgasm hits with no more warning than that first twitch, she yanks him down onto her legs wrapping around him like she can't get enough of him. Lando spills into her without any control.

He actually gets dizzy feeling like he's never came so hard or so much in his life.

"Lando?" Y/n whispers making Lando blink a time. "Are you with me?"

"I think I might've died in your pussy and gone to heaven." Lando croaks then frowning. "Did I pass out?"

"Yeah...a bit." Y/n laughs then gently pushing back his sweaty head, her own face glittering with her. "I'll take it as a compliment...Are you ok?"

"I'm fine. I think I might just put blood into you from how hard I came."

"That's ok." Y/n giggles before kissing him. "We can stay like this a bit longer."

"Baby, we can stay like this forever. I'll quit F1 for good if you let me live with you pussy like this around me."

"I think we might wither away and die if I do that. We have to eat...and I'll have to pee at some point-and so will you. Cumming inside is one thing, if you piss in me I'll chop your dick off." Y/n warns playfully, though he thinks that she'd fully follow through on it. Her giggling with his dick still inside her short circuits his head though and he has to hide his face in her neck, shuddering as pleasure ripples through him.

"Fuck, baby. Don't do that unless you really want to kill me." Lando groans rutting into her despite being soft at this point and feeling her leaking out around him. "I'm going to clean you up. I promise. Just give me a bit more time."

"Take as long as you need. I'm enjoying this."

"Good. Because I'm burning any condoms in the vicinity. Never fucking you any other way but raw from here forward." Lando declares earning a smile as y/n sucks in a breath and holds him close. "I think your pussy has just changed my life in a way I didn't know what possible."

"You're welcome. If I knew it'd be so easy I never would've have you wear a condom in the first place."

She would've but he's too spent to argue and now he's taken off the condom, he is just grateful they both enjoyed the experience. Though he might need to make sure he's ok. Passing out after sex might not be the best sign of something.

The 2021 stream is infamous.

Lando, barely legal and full of chaos, spills Max Fewtrell's biggest secret like it's nothing. "Max have a girlfriend." Just drops it. Live. To thousands of people.

Max's relationship was three months old. Private. Fragile. Something he actually cared about.

And Lando just told everyone.

Max didn't speak to him for a week. When he finally did, his voice was calm. Too calm.

"I'm not going to get mad," Max said.

"Good," Lando replied, already relaxing.

"I'm going to wait."

"...Wait for what?"

Max smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "For you to fall in love. And then I'm going to do exactly what you did to me."

Lando laughed. "Never happening. I don't do relationships."

Max just nodded. "We'll see."

Four years pass.

Lando does what Lando does: races cars, streams games, dodges commitment like it's a torpedo. He's convinced he's untouchable. Too smart for love. Too busy for feelings.

Then he meets you.

It's at a mutual friend's party. You're not famous. You don't care about his job beyond being happy for him. You make fun of his haircut within the first thirty seconds.

He's hooked immediately.

"You're different," he tells you on the second date.

"That's what they all say," you reply, stealing a fry off his plate.

"No, I mean it. I don't—I don't usually do this."

"Do what? Eat fries?"

"Feel things," he admits, then looks horrified at his own honesty.

You laugh. It's not mean. It's warm. Real. "That's terrifying for you, isn't it?"

"Yes," he says. "Absolutely terrifying."

You're together by the end of the month.

Lando had never been so happy and nervous at the same time. It had been so long since Lando had been so excited about a relationship.

The apartment is dark except for the glow of two monitors. It’s late—or early, depending on your relationship with sleep—and Lando is streaming. Just a chill one. No agenda. Definitely not because you’re in the next room, wrapped in his hoodie, reading a book on his bed.

He told you to stay quiet. “Just for a bit, baby. I’ll be done in an hour.”

You rolled your eyes but kissed his cheek anyway. You’ve been together for eight months. Private by necessity, but soft in ways that make his chest ache. No one knows. Not the fans. Not the press. Not even most of his friends.

Max Fewtrell knows.

Max has known since week two, when Lando showed up at his flat at midnight, drunk on something stronger than confidence, rambling about "this girl, Max, she’s different, I swear to god.”

Max listened. Max nodded. And then Max smiled—slow, terrible, beautiful—and said, “So. A girlfriend, then?”

Lando had gone pale. “You wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

But Max kept the secret. For months. Lando almost started to trust him again.

Foolish, really.

Until Friday arrived and with it a streaming of Lando.

The stream is going fine. Lando is racing, cracking jokes, dodging questions about his love life with the practiced ease of a man who has lied to the entire internet for fun and profit.

But then he hears it.

A soft thud from the bedroom. Then your voice, sleepy and sweet: “Lan? Where’d you put my phone charger?”

Lando’s soul leaves his body.

His hands hover over his keyboard. His eyes go wide. The chat, sensing blood, accelerates into chaos.

WHO WAS THAT

LANDO???

GIRL?? IN THE BACKGROUND???

HELLO???

“No one,” Lando says, too fast. “That was—that was my—my Alexa. My Alexa sounds weird. British update.”

The chat is not buying it.

ALEXA SAID ‘LAN’

ALEXA DOES NOT HAVE A BEDROOM

LANDO NORRIS YOU ARE LYING

He’s about to fumble his way through another terrible excuse when his phone buzzes.

Max Fewtrell: is that her?

Max Fewtrell: is that the girlfriend?

Max Fewtrell: lando i swear to god if you don’t invite me to this stream right now.

Lando types back frantically: max don’t you dare

A second later, a notification pops up.

maxfewtrell has joined the stream.

“No,” Lando whispers. “No, no, no.”

Max’s face appears on screen. He looks like Christmas came early. His grin is so wide it’s almost obscene.

“Evening, chat,” Max says smoothly. “Lando. Mate. Sounded like you had a visitor.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? Because chat says they heard a girl call you ‘Lan.’” Max leans back, arms crossed, the picture of smug patience. “Want to explain that?”

Lando is sweating. Actually sweating. “It was—my sister.”

“Your sister calls you ‘Lan’?”

“Sometimes.”

“At 1 AM?”

“She’s… an insomniac.”

Max hums. He pulls out his phone, scrolls for a second, then looks directly into the camera with the energy of a man about to commit a felony.

“You know,” Max says, loud and clear, “it’s funny. Because I could have sworn—and correct me if I’m wrong, chat—that Lando told me, in confidence, about eight months ago, that he’d met someone. That she was ‘really special.’ That he wanted to ‘keep her a secret because he didn’t want to mess it up.’”

Lando makes a sound like a dying animal. “Max.”

“And I remember thinking,” Max continues, unstoppable now, “how familiar that sounded. How much that reminded me of someone else I knew. Someone who had a secret girlfriend. Someone who got exposed on a live stream by a certain—what was his name again?—oh, right. Lando Norris.”

The chat has achieved light speed.

MAX IS SAVAGE

HE REMEMBERED

THE LORE

LANDO HAVE A GF?????

KARMA IS REAL

Lando drops his head into his hands. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” Max grins. “You love me. Just like you love your secret girlfriend who is definitely in your bedroom right now. Hi, by the way! You deserve better than this idiot.”

From the other room, barely audible, you laugh.

And Lando—despite the disaster, despite the betrayal, despite the fact that his phone is now exploding with notifications from every driver, every journalist, and his own mother—smiles.

Just a little.

Worth it.

"Say it," Lando grumbles, crossing his arms even with a smoldering smile on his face. "Say the phrase you want to say"

Max leans into his microphone. He's enjoying this. Really, truly enjoying this.

"Lando have a girlfriend," Max announces, perfectly enunciated. "And he is whipped. And I have screenshots. And voice memos. And approximately fourteen hours of him talking about how pretty her laugh is."

"You're a monster," Lando whispers.

"I learned from the best."

You kept laughing while you were watching everything from your laptop

Later. After the stream ends. After Max logs off cackling. After the internet has fully lost its mind.

You walk into the living room, still in his hoodie, hair messy, holding your phone charger like a trophy. You look at Lando—slumped in his gaming chair, face buried in his hands, ears bright red—and raise an eyebrow.

“So,” you say. “Karma’s a bitch, huh?”

Lando looks up at you, utterly defeated. “He’s never going to let me live this down.”

“Nope.”

“The entire world knows now.”

“Yep.”

“My DMs are going to be hell.”

“Probably.”

He sighs. Then holds out his arms. “Worth it, though.”

You roll your eyes but walk over anyway, letting him pull you into his lap. He tucks his face into your neck, breathing you in, and you can feel him smile against your skin.

“I love you,” he mumbles. “Even if Max Fewtrell is the actual devil.”

“I love you too,” you say. “Even if you did kind of deserve that.”

From somewhere across the city, Max Fewtrell opens a bottle of champagne and tweets a single word:

@maxfewtrell: karma.

The internet explodes again.

Because Max isn't cruel. He's just patient.

And revenge, served cold, tastes best with a side of love.