LN4 | Challenge Accepted
pairing: lando norris x non-driver!reader
genre: one shot ✿
summary: it’s been five years since the last chinese gp, so when you and lando are set up to race each other on the shanghai circuit on mclaren’s state of the art simulator, anything is possible…
word count: 5.6k
masterlist
・ ⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・
The sound of feet tapping restlessly against the floor, alternated by the squeaking of a swivel chair spinning round, echoed through the large hall at McLaren HQ. With a sigh, you refreshed your social media—again—but there were no new posts of any kind to keep you occupied. You’d already gone through all of them.
Your boyfriend and F1 driver, Lando Norris, was somewhere in the massive building, filming interviews, challenges and whatnot for the McLaren social media platforms. He had asked if you'd come with him today, mostly because you already saw so little of each other due to his busy schedule. Not that you saw much of each other right now, but at least there wasn’t an ocean between you like there usually was.
Besides, he’d promised he would wrap up as quickly as he could, and take you out for dinner. So. The wait was worth it. Even though you were bored out of your mind for the foreseeable future.
After walking up and down the hall’s boulevard four times over, admiring all of the beautiful, historical cars on display, you had checked out the trophy wall, which was just as impressive. But since you weren’t allowed access anywhere else inside the building, at least not without a chaperone, there wasn’t much else for you to do or see. That’s how you found yourself in your current situation, spinning around in a chair like an impatient five-year-old, the line of racing cars and the lake outside whooshing by.
“Y/N?”
The chair came to an abrupt stop. “Yea–yes?” you squinted at the blurry figure in front of you.
Maybe it hadn’t been such a great idea to spin around so many times that your vestibular system now made it feel like you were on a ship battling a terrible storm. Luckily, once your vision cleared, you recognised the person instantly. It was Lando’s performance engineer, Andrew Jarvis. You’d seen him around race tracks a few times—he was always very friendly and kind to you.
“Jarv! Hi, how are you?”
“I’m good, thanks. What about yourself?”
“Oh, good, good… Enjoying the scenery,” you sneered, waving a hand.
“Right,” he drawled, looking you up and down with an amused smile. “Bored?”
“Yes,” you groaned, sinking a little deeper into the chair. “So. Fucking. Bored.”
Jarv chuckled. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m afraid Lando is still tied up. I think he and Oscar are filming some kind of… song challenge? I don’t know,” he shrugged with another laugh. “It’s not exactly my area of expertise.”
Your lips quirked up. “Imagine if it was. You could start hiding strategy calls in songs and sing them over the board radio.”
He wavered. “That would be…”
“Genius?”
“Eh, well,” he faltered, his mouth twitching all the same.
“Right. Maybe not,” you laughed.
Although, privately you thought it would be a hilarious idea. With a tinge of brilliance, perhaps. But the pinnacle of motorsport would probably be a little too serious to see it your way.
“I’m obviously not an engineer, or a strategist, or a driver. So, I guess I’ll just stay here,” you sighed, patting the armrests of your new friend, the swivel chair. “And try to excel in exercising patience instead.”
Jarv nodded, his brows furrowing. “Maybe you don’t have to…”
You eyed him with a suspicious look. “What do you mean?”
He checked his watch and glanced around before looking back to you, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I have an idea. Come with me.”
Jarv had already turned on his heel before you could object, expecting you to blindly follow him to wherever it was he intended to take you. Which you did… without too much thought. Let’s just say boredom got the best of you. Choosing between sitting another god knows how many hours in that chair, or doing something—anything—the choice wasn’t hard. So, you leaped from your seat, sprinting to catch up with him.
“Wait!”
He slowed down, and you fell into step beside him. “What’s your idea? Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see.”
You neared the large double doors at the rear of the boulevard. Jarv pressed his right thumb on a small, glass box on the wall next to them, waiting for his fingerprint to be authorised. The system scanned his print, and the light tinged green. “Welcome, Mr. Jarvis,” a female voice said as the doors automatically opened in front of you.
“Nice.”
Jarv grinned, gesturing for you to precede him into the restricted wing of McLaren HQ. The part that the general public never got to see. You gazed around in amazement. You knew it was a large building, but it was more like a maze back here, and you quickly lost all sense of direction.
“I should probably text Lando, he’s gonna wonder where I’ve disappeared to.”
“Don’t worry, Lando is heading where we’re going, too.”
You relaxed a little at that, however your curiosity didn’t subside as you trailed after Jarv throughout the many long corridors. Where the hell were you going?
The behind the scenes looked arguably even more impressive than all the trophies and race-winning cars that were being flaunted in the entrance hall. You passed countless offices, labs, and workshops where employees were working on top-secret updates for the MCL38, or perhaps even next year’s car. And although Jarv kept up a good pace, you were still able to sneak a few glimpses here and there, thanks to all the glass walls. Most of the technology looked so futuristic, you felt like you had accidentally stepped onto the set of a sci-fi film.
Jarv made a sharp right turn down another hallway. This one only had one door at the end, and it wasn’t made out of glass like the rest of them, which prevented you from being able to see what was behind it.
You read the sign next to the door, which only added to the mystery.
Strictly No Admittance. Authorised Personnel Only.
“This is it,” Jarv said, retrieving a key to unlock the door, opening it wide.
Well, there was your authorisation.
You stepped into the mysterious, dimly lit room, your eyes gradually widening with awe.
The room was roughly twelve by twelve metres, and in the centre stood two professionally altered Formula 1 cars, both with their own 180-degree widescreens set up in a semicircle around them. The back wall was lined with large computer screens, a row of chairs stationed in front of them, which gave you the feeling you were looking at a small-scale pitwall.
Holy… beep.
Speaking of futuristic tech, this was way up there.
“Welcome to the McLaren simulation room.”
You whirled around to face Jarv, beaming. “This is incredible. I’ve never seen a sim like this before.”
It was true. Sure, Lando had his own simulator at home in Monaco. But it was nothing compared to this piece of craftsmanship.
Jarv hummed, smiling as he walked to the faux-pitwall. “So. You ready to try it out?”
You blinked. “Ready to–wait a minute… what?”
You stared at Jarv as he turned on the computers, pressing buttons here and there that made the right car hum to life. Next, the widescreen around the car powered up as well, causing a wave of light to brighten the otherwise dark room.
“Jarv?”
He opened a cabinet, retrieving a steering wheel before he walked to the simulator. “Come on, don’t tell me you don’t want to.”
“That’s not it,” you trailed off.
“Good,” he said, turning around, looking at you expectantly. “So get in, then.”
“But… what about Lando? You said he was on his way over here. Don’t they need the room?”
“They will be here to film something in,” Jarv checked his watch again. “In a little over an hour. Until then, the room is empty, and we can use it. I presume you’ve driven a simulator before?”
“Yeah, I have… but don’t I need some kind of special clearance to use one of these?” One of these super expensive, highly accurate simulators that are solely used to train drivers and prepare the real cars and their setups for race weekends. Whatever could go wrong?
“Y/N, don’t worry about it. I’m Lando’s performance engineer. I’m one of the few that gets to decide who uses the sim.”
You shifted your weight, still unsure. “I’m not gonna be any good at it.”
“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that you have fun, or would you rather return to the waiting area?”
“No.”
Jarv’s smile widened, and he gestured to the sim, inviting you to take a seat.
You hesitantly walked up to the car, twisting your rings, a nervous habit of yours. You’d tried the simulator at Lando’s before, and like you’d already pointed out to Jarv, you weren’t any good at it. Lando had tried to talk you through it, telling you where to break and lift, but it was painfully clear you weren’t cut out to be a driver.
And now you had to drive in McLaren’s state of the art simulator, under the watchful eye of Lando’s performance engineer. The pressure was real. You didn’t want to make a complete fool out of yourself.
After you’d managed to, somewhat awkwardly, settle yourself in the sim’s seat, Jarv locked the steering wheel into place. It was familiar to you as it looked exactly like the one on Lando’s car, just like everything else on this sim. Except that it didn’t have a front or back wing, or any tyres.
“Alright, before you start driving, it’s important to know the ins and outs of the track you’re racing at. Which in this case will be Shanghai, the location of next weekend’s race,” Jarv said, pressing a few buttons.
The layout of the track popped up on the screen in front of you, with a sea of information and data appearing on the sides.
“Don’t worry about the data. We’ll stick to the basics that are of importance to you as a driver. Ready?”
You nodded.
“Good. So, the Shanghai International Circuit has sixteen corners, two DRS-zones on the main straights; one in sector three, and the other on start-finish…”
***
“I don’t know, I feel like maybe I should pursue a musical career,” Lando joked as he and Oscar followed Marion, the head of McLaren’s PR team, down the building’s corridors.
They had just finished filming another challenge for YouTube. Or Instagram. Or both. Lando didn’t really care about the specifics. It was just another part of his job. Something he’d rather be done with soon, so he could go back to his girl.
Oscar snorted. “Yes, I’m sure you’ll be a Grammy-nominated artist in no time.”
Lando grinned, agreeing with a nod.
“Alright, lads. One more, and then you’re free to go,” Marion called over her shoulder.
It was absolute music to Lando’s ears.
“What is it that we have to do?” Oscar asked.
“You’ll be racing each other on the sim, just for a couple of laps, around the Shanghai circuit.”
“I thought we were gonna train on the sim in the morning,” Lando said.
Marion nodded. “You will. This is only a short challenge for a video ahead of the Chinese Grand Prix. Because we haven’t raced there in so long, we thought it’d be fun to film your initial reaction to the track driving the MCL38.”
He and Oscar shared a look. They were always down for a race. There was no question about it.
The click-clacking of Marion’s heels bounced around the hallway as the group made their way to the simulation room. When they arrived, Will, Lando’s race engineer, and a camera and sound crew were waiting for them by the door.
“Why are you all out here? You should be setting up the cameras,” Marion scolded, looking at the men expectantly, waiting for an explanation.
But the men ignored her, instead they all looked to Lando, grinning. He frowned, not at all understanding the meaning behind the knowing looks they were sending him. What was up with them?
“Someone beat us to the sim, I’m afraid,” Will explained, his eyes still on Lando.
Marion turned to Lando as well, equally confused. “What does that mean?”
Lando met her eye and shrugged. “Hell if I know.”
As if on cue, a high pitched scream came from the simulation room, followed by a distinct, “That’s more like it!”
Will and the crew chuckled, but Marion wasn’t having it. “What on earth is going on,” she bristled, pushing past them to enter the room.
Lando followed her, but he couldn’t have been less prepared for the scene they stumbled upon next.
Occupying one of the simulators was his girlfriend, and right next to you stood Jarv, who was closely monitoring your driving, giving you short and precise instructions. You were going down the straight at full throttle, following Jarv’s pointers as you breaked and hit the curb perfectly for a smooth exit.
What the hell?
He’d thought you were still waiting for him in the entrance hall on the other side of the building. Never in a million years had he expected to find you here, racing on McLaren’s simulator, looking like you actually knew what you were doing no less.
So that’s why all the guys had been smirking at him…
“What do we have here?”
You jumped at Lando’s voice, immediately causing the car to spin and crash during your momentary lapse of concentration.
“Fuck! I was on a flying lap…”
“And a bloody good one at that,” Jarv added, proud.
Lando’s eyebrows shot up. “You were what?” His eyes flicked from you to Jarv, to you, and then back to Jarv. “Mate?”
Before Jarv could utter a word, you turned to face your boyfriend with a wide smile. “Baby, guess what?! I’m not a complete loser at this!”
“I–I’m so proud of you… but,” Lando shook his head, still not understanding any of this. “Why are you two in here?”
You grabbed onto the halo and pulled yourself out of the car to face him. “Jarv came to see how I was doing, and since I had nothing better to do, he suggested I’d give this a try,” you explained, gesturing to the sim.
“Oh, I see,” Lando smiled.
Yet he struggled to swallow the bitter taste at seeing you spending time and having fun with Jarv. All the while he had been stuck ‘working’. Not that he blamed you for it. He was the one who left you all by yourself for so long. But still…
“Uhm, but now that you’re all here,” you said, a bit sheepish, your eyes scanning the gathering crowd. “I’ll uhm, I’ll leave you to it.”
“Very well,” Marion called, but she was quickly interrupted.
“No, no, no, no. Wait a second. I need to know something first,” Will spoke, stepping forward. “Jarv, we need your professional assessment, man. How did she do?”
Marion sighed, tapping her phone to check the time, which only made her look more impatient. Lando ignored her, his eyes sliding from you to his performance engineer, curious as well.
“Y/N did great. She struggled a little at first, but the more laps she did, the better she got,” Jarv beamed. He turned to face Lando. “You know, I reckon she’d even have a good chance at beating you.”
Lando studied him. “You’re joking.”
“No, I’m being serious, mate. I’d wager good money on it.”
Marion’s annoyance evaporated within an instant, her eyes lighting up. “Oh gosh, that is a perfect idea, Jarvis.”
“What is? Gambling?”
“No,” she huffed. “I mean, instead of Lando against Oscar, we can have these two lovebirds race each other on the sim instead!”
“What?” you and Lando cried in unison.
Everyone looked at you, and your cheeks tinged a soft pink. You weren’t used to all the attention, usually preferring to keep a lower profile. Well, as much as that was possible dating a Formula 1 driver.
“Guys, I’m flattered. Truly, I am. But I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes. I know you’re all here to do a job, and that job doesn’t include me…”
“That’s right,” Lando agreed. He shot you a brief smile before addressing Marion. “Besides, she doesn’t like to be the centre of attention, and I don’t want her to embarrass herself in front of the eyes of millions.”
Something stirred inside you. “What does that mean? You don’t think I can beat you?”
“Well, sweetheart…”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you mumbled, your eyes narrowing.
Under other circumstances, you would have agreed with him. But this last hour and a half with Jarv had boosted your confidence. It had gone really well, exceeding both of your expectations on your sim racing capabilities by miles. And maybe, some part of you, just wanted to show him that.
Like Lando, you never shied away from competition. Not if you had a chance at winning. You weren’t a hundred percent sure if you did right now. But you couldn’t deny you weren’t more than a little curious to find out. And seeing as Lando had just called you out in front of everyone, the only logical thing to do was rise to the challenge.
“You know what? I’m in.”
With that, you climbed back into the snug seat, forcing the thought of having everyone’s eyes on you to the back of your mind.
Lando’s eyes widened. “What?”
“Wonderful,” Marion exclaimed. “Let’s roll, people.”
Lando watched as everybody around him immediately jumped into action, including the camera and sound guys who got ready to put it all on film. Jarv grinned and grabbed his tablet, giving a slight nod to Will, who nodded in return and went to start up the second simulator and retrieve a steering wheel for Lando.
“I’ll be assisting Y/N, and just like with a normal race, Will can be Lando’s engineer,” Jarv said.
“Yep,” Will said, holding up the steering wheel as he walked to the other sim. “We’re good to go.”
“We are too!” one of the crewmen announced.
Marion smiled, but it faded when she noticed Lando still standing by the door, not having moved an inch. “What are you waiting for? Get in the car,” she said.
She started pushing Lando in the direction of the other sim, but he stood his ground.
“Hold on. We can’t do this.”
“What? Why not?”
“Yeah, why not?”
Lando sighed. “You know why.”
Did they? Did he?
Lando loved to race, and he certainly loved you. So what was stopping him from combining the two?
He wasn’t scared of losing—he never has been, and never would. Not that there was any real chance that you, an inexperienced ‘driver’, could beat him today. There was simply no way.
He’d seen you try the sim at his house, and despite his best efforts, you were, for lack of a better term, absolute rubbish. But then again, Jarv had seemed so sure of himself. That man didn’t lie or exaggerate. He would give it to you straight if you underperformed or weren’t any good. Lando had always admired and respected that.
So, had Jarv been able to unearth some sort of racing talent that was buried deep inside of you? Something that Lando himself hadn’t managed to uncover…
Was that why he hesitated going up against you? His sense of pride?
Lando groaned internally. If anything, that should make him that much more adamant to race you.
He looked over to see you were already staring at him, ambition burning bright in your eyes. Ambition to beat him. At the thing he did best… It was alluring, and Lando felt his own competitiveness flare.
“No, we don’t. Honestly, what’s stopping you?”
“It’s only five laps. It’ll be a piece of cake for you, Norris.”
“Unless that’s the problem,” Jarv joked. “Maybe he needs to warm up and familiarise himself with the track first…”
“I think all of you are forgetting that I’m the only one here who actually raced in Shanghai,” Lando shot back, unconsciously taking a step towards the sim.
“And how did that work out for you, mate?” Oscar chimed in.
Lando glared at him and Oscar struggled to contain his laughter.
“Even better,” you exclaimed, reclaiming your boyfriend’s attention. “You have on track experience and I’ve had a little time to prepare with Jarv. That’s fair enough, right?”
“Y/N… are you sure you want to…”
He was so close to giving in. He knew it, you knew it, probably everyone did. Besides, you had one more trick up your sleeve. One that would surely make his competitive side overshadow any lingering doubts, and get him to race you in that other sim.
“When have you ever walked away from a race? Hm? Unless you’re scared you’ll lose…”
That struck the intended chord.
Oh, she didn’t, Lando thought.
You gave him your most innocent looking smile, but he knew damn well what you were doing. He shook himself. Fine. If you wanted to race him so badly, he would give it to you. And no way in hell would he still consider going easy on you.
Lando promptly made his way to the other car and slid into the seat with practised ease. He signalled Will, who handed him the steering wheel. He clicked it into place before glancing to his right, smiling dangerously. “Alright, you’re on, darling. Challenge accepted.”
At that, Jarv entered a bunch of commands on his tablet, which was connected to the simulator’s system, to set the race parameters. Two cars appeared on the screens, each from their own driver’s point of view, already in position to start racing at Shanghai’s International Circuit.
“As you can see, Lando will start on the right and Y/N will start on the left,” Jarv informed.
“Whoa, wait a minute,” Lando sputtered. “Why are you starting from pole and not me?”
“Because I clocked the fastest lap time.”
“You clocked the only lap time.”
You shrugged, smiling. “Take it up with race control, baby.”
“Don’t worry,” Will reassured, looking at his own tablet as he scrolled through the accumulated data from your runs. “Break late, and you can easily overtake her in the first corner.”
Lando nodded, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel as the digital green flag was waved.
Jarv leaned in to whisper in your ear: “No, he won’t. Just remember what I taught you.”
“Aye, aye,” you said, focusing on the lights.
The cameras were all set and rolling, and Marion looked around, relishing the unexpected turn of events. This would be an enormous hit online, for sure. Her eyes landed on Oscar who stood to the back, watching the couple with an amused glint in his eye. If only she could involve him as well somehow… that would make it even better.
“Oscar, why don’t you take on the role of commentator?” Marion suggested, her tone indicating that he didn’t have much of a choice.
Oscar startled. “Oh. Uhm. Yeah, sure.”
He moved to stand in between the two simulators, clearing his throat. “Right. Uhm. Welcome to the Shanghai International Circuit for the 2024 Chinese Grand Prix… It’s Sunday, April 21st—well, not really but let’s go with it—uhm, and we’ll soon start racing–”
“You’re a lousy commentator, Piastri,” Lando interrupted.
Oscar rolled his eyes. “How about you worry about yourself, Norris.”
Lando snickered, but he quickly sobered when the first light gleamed red. Then the second, the third, the fourth, the fifth, and…
“It’s lights out and away we go!”
You got away quick, but Lando was faster, years of experience siding with him.
“Lando dives into the first corner, ahead of Y/N. Can she cross back? No, no she cannot. Ah, bummer…” Oscar narrated. “She’s right behind him, though, going into turn 3. Lando nearly missing the apex there, but he recovers well. OH! Oh, never mind. Lando goes wide in turn 6! Yeah, he’s familiar with that one.”
“Shut up,” Lando snapped.
“I didn’t think so, mate,” Oscar grinned, settling into his new character nicely.
“Y/N is back on his heels as they go down sector two. DRS is not yet enabled, but she is only six tenths behind! Will Y/N be able to overtake Norris without DRS on the straight? She’s getting closer… they’re racing each other into turn 14, and… OH Y/N, massive lock-up! She manages to keep the car on track. Excellent save! But that’s gonna cost her some valuable time.”
You crossed start-finish, eyeing the time as you entered lap two.
Oscar’s voice boomed loud. “DRS enabled! But Y/N is too far–”
“Just 1.2 seconds behind, you can still do this,” Jarv encouraged. “Line-up on the left and take the first corner on the inside. Yeah, like that. Good.”
On the other side of the room, Will was giving Lando similar instructions. It had, after all, been a while since Lando had last raced this track. During his rookie year, no less. Therefore it was currently taking him quite a bit of effort to find the correct race line, especially with the many difficult corners and hairpins around the track.
“Steady on,” Will said. “Y/N is out of DRS. Let’s keep it that way.”
The couple sped down the track on their simulators, and even though most of your focus was spent on driving and listening to Jarv’s notes, you also marvelled at the accuracy and realism of the sim. From the sensations of the literal car you were seated in, down to the gravel Lando’s little off-track adventure had caused to spread in and around turn 6. Whatever the outcome of the race, this experience would certainly beat waiting around and lounging in that swivel chair.
“Great exit from Norris who is absolutely flying down the straight in sector three, followed by Y/N at 1.4 seconds. Still doing a phenomenal job so far!” Oscar continued, his eyes glued to the screen. “Approaching turn 14, can Y/N manage the hairpin this time? What?! Oh, no! It’s Lando that locks up this time… Oiiioii, mighty turn 14 proves to be too much for both of our star drivers.”
Jarv kept a close eye on the interval time, and thanks to Lando’s mistake, the gap had already shrunk to 1.1 seconds. “Okay, now use the extra power from the ERS to get closer,” he instructed.
You did as you were told, pressing the correct button on the steering wheel, which gave you an extra boost to get even closer to Lando.
“Y/N gaining on Norris! And she’s now back within DRS at 0.9 seconds. Whoa, what a truly remarkable performance by someone who has never driven a race car or a sim like this before! I’d vote for her as driver of the day…”
“No one asked your opinion,” Lando cut off, sounding a little strained.
“Whatever,” Oscar shrugged, unbothered. “Lando Grumpy-Ass Norris struggles to maintain the gap between him and his girlfriend, hitting the curb a little enthusiastically right there. Oh, Y/N faces the same issues! It’s all about keeping the focus now, ladies and gents. Will Y/N be able to close the gap? Will she be able to attack Norris?”
Marion stood behind the cameras, watching gleefully how you and Lando raced each other around the virtual Shanghai circuit. Oh, you were even better than she could have ever anticipated. Better than anyone in the room could have ever anticipated, really. The whole crew was watching the race with baited breath.
You were almost equally matched. With you, a real diamond in the rough, having received some training beforehand, and Lando, an experienced driver, essentially going in blind—it was a golden match.
Were you going to be able to do the unthinkable?
“We’re going into the penultimate lap, and even with Lando strategically using his batteries, Y/N has managed to close the gap to 0.7 with DRS. And there she is also clocking the fastest lap. Wow!”
“You can win a little bit of extra time in sector two,” Will analysed. “Turns 9 and 12 are crucial. You need a good exit.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Lando said. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Does he?” Oscar cut in. “We’ve got track limits for Norris in turn 9! He’s getting desperate now, with Y/N coming for him at 0.6 seconds. Is she going to—yes! She’s attempting to overtake Norris ahead of turn 11 but… fails… Oh, that was a bold move by Y/N! She lost a bit of time with that one, but she’s still within DRS range and knows she will be able to get close again for another attack.”
Your knuckles were turning white from how tight you were gripping the steering wheel. You couldn’t make a mistake, not now. You were so close… On the other sim, Lando was in a similar state. Although he was clenching his jaw in concentration instead. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep you behind him.
“Final lap,” Oscar announced. “And Norris crosses the white lines again! Turn 3 this time. Yep, there it is. Second track limits for Norris. He is feeling the heat, and not the good kind.”
Jarv’s mouth twitched. “It’s been five years since Lando raced here, let’s use it to our advantage,” he spoke to you in a hushed tone.
You nodded, your eyes never wavering from the screen in front of you.
Jarv checked the data, both yours and Lando’s, then leaned in. “Okay, here’s what you’ll do: instead of following the race line at–”
Will was closely observing you and Jarv from the other side of the room, but he couldn’t make out what Jarv was saying over the sounds of the simulators’ engines and Oscar still commentating to his heart’s content. He looked down at his driver, who was fully focused on the task before him.
“And then use the charged batteries after exiting turn 13. I know Lando’s defending tactics, this should work. He won’t see it coming,” Jarv finished.
You simply nodded again, trusting your engineer’s judgement. You would give it your all to try and execute his strategy as best you could.
“As we’re nearing the chequered flag, all bets are off. Lando is fighting for his position with everything he has, but Y/N is not ready to call it quits just yet!”
Your heart rate was off the charts, but you managed to stay calm, hitting the apexes, the metres between you and Lando’s car in front dwindling with each passing second.
“0.5 seconds, 0.4 seconds…”
“Flat out, Y/N. Let’s go,” Jarv said, his own heart rate ticking up.
“She’s chasing him, with DRS… There she comes. There she comes… round the inside! Y/N overtakes Norris!” Oscar roared. “Diving into the infamous turn 14… and… and she makes it! Hell yeah! What a mega move from Y/N! Now into the final corner. Can she stay ahead of Norris? Can she…? Yes!! Yes, she can!”
You passed the chequered flag, your mouth falling open in shock.
“Y/N wins the Chinese Grand Prix!”
“OH MY GOD!!”
Jarv's laugh pierced the room. “Get in! I told you!”
He managed to stop himself just in time before he started jumping up and down like an overly excited little boy. You shared his enthusiasm though, unable to control the slight tremor in your hands at seeing your name next to the word WINNER displayed boldly on the screen in front of you.
Holy fuck, you did it. You actually did it.
Lando sank low in his seat. “How the hell…”
Will patted him on the shoulder, consoling. “You did your best mate.”
“Clearly it wasn’t enough,” he grumbled.
Will glanced at their celebrating opponents, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Get your mind out of the gutter, mate, and look on the bright side.”
“Which is?”
“Your girlfriend just showed you the perfect overtake manoeuvre for Sunday.”
“Ha-ha, very funny…”
Although, you really did.
Lando turned to see Jarv help you out of the simulator, still grinning from ear to ear. You were reeling, the adrenaline of the fight and win coursing through your veins. Suddenly you understood what it must feel like to come out of a real F1 car, and to stand on the podium, basking in that feeling of winning a race.
As soon as you were out, Jarv high-fived you. “Solid race. That’s some potential, that is.”
Oscar came up next. “Awesome job, Y/N. Seriously. Great overtake at the end there. Perhaps you’ll be my future teammate,” he winked.
You giggled. “Thanks, guys!”
Even Will smiled at you, giving you a thumbs up as you walked over to Lando who was still seated in the other sim, sulking.
“Oh, come on,” you pouted, reaching out your hand, a peace offering. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”
“Sure thing, it was,” he muttered, but he accepted your hand anyway before jumping out of the car.
When he stood in front of you, he took a moment to look you up and down, a smile slowly creeping onto his face. His ego may have taken quite the blow today, but there was no denying he was also extremely proud of you. Jarv had been right after all, and Lando was happy he hadn’t taken the engineer up on his bet.
He shook his head as if he still couldn’t believe it. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises?”
You shrugged, smiling. “Need to keep things fresh and exciting, don’t I? Otherwise you’ll tire of me in no time.”
“Never,” Lando scoffed, wrapping his arm around your waist and giving your lips a soft peck. “However, as much as I’m proud of you… this footage will never see the light of day.”
You laughed, your eyes locking with Marion.
She sent you a wink. “We’ll see about that.”
***
a/n: thank you for reading <3 feedback is adored.
by the way, should i make a taglist for future f1 fics? is that something you’d be interested in? or perhaps for specific drivers? let me know!
also posted on ao3
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waiting for winter (我期待的不是雪)
zayne; 1,616 words; fluff, pining, gn!reader, no "y/n", spoilers for lads ch.4, whipped!zayne
summary: he has never loved the winter
a/n: yes, this was inspired by that one chinese tiktok song. no, i will not elaborate.
He has never loved the winter.
But he remembers the first time he watched the snow fall reflected in your eyes — your cheeks kissed pink by the unforgiving wind, the sky a smear of white as the cold sunk into his bones. He remembers the silver bell ring of your laughter as you’d dragged him by the hand out to build a snowman, the look on your face when he’d remarked that your snowman’s nose was crooked because there were no carrots at the corner store so you’d had to make do with a potato instead.
“Look! It’s snowing!”
Zayne shakes himself into the present, glancing out of his office window at the cotton-soft flurries spinning by his windows. Across from him, you’re sitting with a muffler thrown haphazardly around your shoulders, watching the snow with an open, child-like wonder that makes his entire chest twist tight with —
He clears his throat.
“All the more reason for you to be careful — make sure to bundle up when you go outside,” he says, dropping his eyes back to your most recent health report.
You’re not sleeping enough, and your vitamin D levels are lower than he’d like. He’d hoped that becoming a Hunter would at least expose you to a decent amount of sun but then again, you had told him that Jenna’s been keeping tight reigns on you since the explosion.
“Yeah, yeah — I’ll be careful.”
He looks up, his eyes dark as he looks over the shape of you, fingers curled in your lap as you look up at him from beneath your lashes. He holds your gaze and fights to keep his expression neutral as you blush and look away, somehow reverting back to a much younger version of you — the memory of it superimposed upon the look of you now.
“You’re just as bossy as you were back then,” you say, sighing as you shrug up your shoulders like a scolded child.
Zayne scoffs, affording himself a small laugh, “Except I have a doctorate to back it up now, don’t I?”
You pout, pursing your lips. Zayne wonders, for the millionth time that day, how soft they might be beneath his own.
“I liked you better before you got your fancy creds,” you say, still pouting.
Zayne sighs, flicking off his tablet and putting it down on the table.
“Alright, what do you want?”
You blink up at him, eyes wide enough to convince anyone else of your innocence. But he knows better. He’s always known better.
“What do you mean?”
He ticks his tongue against his teeth and leans back in his chair, checking his watch.
“It’s almost lunchtime — c’mon.”
He pushes up from his desk and tugs his doctor’s coat from his shoulders, rolling them loose of the tightness that had gathered there all morning.
“Huh?”
He rounds his desk and tugs his winter coat from the back of the door, turning to fix you with a look.
“The noodle shop around the corner has your favorite as a lunch special.”
He counts down from five in his head — four, three, two —
“Really?” your face breaks into a grin wide enough to split your face. He chuckles.
“Yes, really. Are you coming?”
You stare for a second longer before leaping to your feet and bounding to his side. He reaches out to adjust your muffler, tying it tighter over the front of your chest, swatting your hand away when you try to loosen it.
“I’m going to choke!”
“Better that than for you to get sick again.”
He tugs open the door and watches you walk into the hallway, a bounce to your step that he hasn’t seen since you were both kids and he’d promised you he’d buy you sweets on the way home from school.
“How’re you so sure that the lunch specials gonna be my favorite?” you ask, pivoting on your heels and fixing him with a look, halfway down the white-washed hospital halls. Zayne takes his time buttoning up his own coat and locking his office door behind him.
“Because,” he says, voice steady as he strolls by you, glancing down with the shadow of a smile crimping his lips —
“I know you.”
* * *
He has never loved the winter.
But, he thinks as he watches you slurp down a bowl of wide-cut noodles, your cheeks flushed red with joy, he might just learn to love a winter like this.
You don’t question it when he reaches out to swipe at the corner of your mouth with this thumb, licking off the excess with a contemplative hm. But he revels in the way you swallow and blush and look away.
He wonders if you know.
He wonders if you know that you haunt him like the cold haunts him on the nights when he’s alone. He wonders if you see him the way he sees you, cast behind his eyelids like the frames of an old film whenever he closes his eyes, your smile more familiar to him than his own.
“Full?” he asks, watching as you wipe your mouth on a bit of napkin, lips stained red by the chili sauce.
“Mhm!” you nod, smiling up at him.
The noodle shop smells of chicken stock and green onions and the sharp dampness of snow on winter coats. You push the noodle bowl away and stare down at your hands.
“Are you — I mean… you have to go back to work, right?”
He can’t help but notice the note of reluctance in your voice, the way you look up at him as if hoping he’ll say no. He nods, folding his napkin into halves, and then forths. Outside, the sun is already falling toward the far horizon, casting everything in a goldenrod glow. Shadows fall long and sure along the pavement and Zayne doesn’t want to think about the endless hours of darkness ahead.
“Are you going home after this?” he asks, nodding stiffly to the waiter as he hands over his card, wordlessly pushing your hand away as you make a feeble attempt to try and snatch the receipt.
“I… was thinking about going to see a movie,” you say, thumbing at a stray thread along the edge of your coat. He watches you tug at it for a while before reaching out to take your hand in his.
“Go home,” he says, his voice level.
Your brow creases in a slight frown as you look up.
“But… I wanted to see —”
“We’ll see it this weekend,” he says, giving your hand a quick squeeze before letting go, thanking the waiter as he takes back his card and scribbles his signature on the receipt.
“We will?” you ask, blinking up at him as he stands up.
“Yes. It’s showing Saturday at 2:30 — we can get lunch before, or dinner after.”
He’s tugging on his coat when you reach up to loop his scarf around his neck, standing too close, so close he can smell the caramel milk and whipped cream of your skin. He fights down the shivers that threaten to shake down his spine as he goes still, waiting as you tuck his scarf securely around his neck.
“You never tie your scarf right,” you say, dropping back down onto your heels even as you shoulder on your own coat, cheeks dusted the most darling shade of pink Zayne has ever seen. As he watches you, he thinks it might just put the winter sun to shame.
He thinks he might thank you, or he might just bend down and kiss you — he’s uncertain all the way till you make it outside and you turn to smile up at him. And like this, with the dying sun caressing the edge of your cheek, the line of your jaw, you are nothing short of ethereal.
Zayne reaches forward, his thumb and forefinger catching your chin as he leans down.
Your gasp is little more than a hiccup of breath —
“Don’t be late,” he says, stopping mere inches from your lips, whispering the words against where your lips might be if he were a little more daring.
You hold perfectly still, your eyes round as you stare up at him, searching his face for… something — anything.
When he pulls back, he thinks you almost make to chase him. But you let his fingers drop from your skin and you tug at your muffler, toeing at the slushed-up snow on the sidewalk.
“Winter’s my favorite season, y’know,” you say. And Zayne doesn’t dare to hope. But he does — he watches you out of the corner of his eyes. Above you, all around you, the afternoon sun flickers and fades, a daytime aurora, like tendrils of some long-gone magic, coaxing willing believers toward their untimely doom.
“Hn,” he says, not trusting himself with more. He waits; you take a long breath before turning to look at him.
“You wanna know why?” you ask. And finally, finally he turns to you, his eyes catching your eyes — and in them, he sees the twisting colors of the sky reflected there, serpentine and sinuous. Ancient and inexorable. Reds and yellows, pinks and purples, bleeding into an endless, endless winter blue.
He wets his lips and swallows hard, “Why?”
You smile, and it is like the first glimmer of sun after an arctic winter’s night, and he can’t breathe for the sight of it.
“Because… it reminds me of you.”
lads requests r.... open lol
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