#I HOPE IT'S OKAY THAT I AM USING THIS JOKE

[julietsf1]

The Idiot I Call Mine - Lando Norris x BestFriend! Reader

summary: best friends are supposed to share laughs, inside jokes, fries and the occasional late-night drive. what they’re not supposed to do is flirt like it’s a competitive sport or make you question every unspoken rule of friendship. at least, unless your name is Lando Norris apparently. (7.1k words)

content: fluff! friends to lovers; flirty dynamic; mutual pining

an: whaaat? a fic about another driver? yes loves. this is me coming forward as a secret Lando fan. I hope you'll enjoy as much as I did writing this :)

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Lando Norris has this annoying habit of always being right. It’s not even about anything important—it’s just little things. Like the time he guessed exactly how long it would take before I caved and ordered dessert, or when he said I’d end up watching a rom-com tonight even though I claimed I wanted “something deep and meaningful.”

“See?” he said smugly, leaning back on the couch as the opening credits of The Holiday  played. “I know you better than you know yourself.”

“Hardly,” I shot back, tossing a piece of popcorn at him. “You just know I have a weak spot for Jude Law. That doesn’t make you psychic.”

“No, but it does make me an excellent best friend.” He winked, plucking the popcorn off his lap and popping it into his mouth like the show-off he was.

I rolled my eyes, pretending I wasn’t fighting a grin. Lando and I had been inseparable for years, the kind of best friends who finished each other’s sentences and shared a borderline unhealthy obsession with late-night McDonald’s runs. But lately, something had been… different.

Not bad, exactly. Just different. Maybe? I wasn’t even sure to be honest. 

“You’re staring again,” Lando said, breaking into my thoughts. He was sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest in a way that felt entirely too casual and yet completely deliberate. His green eyes sparkled with mischief, and his smirk was the kind that could make even the most confident person question their sanity.

“I wasn’t staring,” I lied, grabbing a handful of popcorn and shoving it in my mouth for good measure.

“You were absolutely staring,” he teased, leaning closer. “What’s on your mind, hmm? Thinking about how devastatingly handsome I am? It’s okay—you can admit it.”

“You’re such a joke,” I said, trying to sound unimpressed but failing miserably. “Devastatingly handsome? Please. You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

“Exactly,” he said, flashing a grin. “And yet, here you are, spending your Friday night with me. Interesting choice.”

“I’m here for the popcorn,” I deadpanned, though even I didn’t believe myself. “And because you begged me.”

“I didn’t beg,” he protested. “I suggested strongly. There’s a difference.”

This was us—lighthearted insults, jokes at each other’s expense, and an ease in our conversations that felt like home. If there was something different lately, I told myself it was just my imagination running wild. 

“Speaking of choices,” I said, leaning back against the couch. “What’s the deal with you and your phone wallpaper?”

“What about it?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“Oh, come on, Lando,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “You really expect me to believe you just happened to pick a picture of me for your wallpaper?”

“It’s a great photo,” he said with a shrug. “You look happy. And let’s not pretend your wallpaper isn’t me.”

I froze, caught. He was right—my wallpaper was him, but that wasn’t the point.

“That’s different,” I said quickly. “You look stupid in yours. It’s funny.”

“Ah, so I’m your personal clown now?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock offense. “Good to know my humiliation brings you joy.”

“Always,” I said sweetly, tossing another piece of popcorn his way.

The movie played on in the background, but neither of us was really paying attention. We were too busy pushing each other’s buttons, like always.

“Hey,” Lando said after a while, his tone a little softer. “You’re coming to dinner at Mum’s next weekend, right?”

“Do I have a choice?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not really,” he said with a grin. “She’s already planning the menu. Something with pasta, probably. You know how she gets when you’re coming over.”

I smiled despite myself. His family had always treated me like one of their own, and his mum had a knack for making me feel special in ways that were both comforting and overwhelming.

“Well, in that case,” I said, pretending to think it over. “I guess I can clear my schedule.”

“Good,” he said, nudging me with his elbow. “I’d be bored without you there.”

It was moments like this—simple and familiar—that stuck with me longer than they should. The way he said things so casually, as if they didn’t carry any weight, even when they somehow did. 

“You’ve got something on your face,” I said suddenly, trying to distract myself.

“Where?” he asked, leaning closer.

“Right there,” I said, tapping the corner of my mouth.

He smirked, deliberately licking the spot where I’d pointed. “Better?”

“Ugh, you’re insufferable,” I said, shoving him away. But I was laughing, and so was he.

“You love it,” he said, and for once, I didn’t argue. Because maybe I did.

As the night went on, the teasing continued, each remark more loaded than the last. By the time the credits rolled, I wasn’t sure if it was the movie or Lando’s lingering glances that had me feeling so off-kilter.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” he said, breaking the silence as he stood to clean up the popcorn bowl. “Something on your mind?”

“Just thinking,” I said vaguely, not meeting his gaze.

“About?” he pressed, leaning against the counter with a smirk that said he already knew the answer.

“Nothing important,” I said, grabbing my phone and pretending to scroll.

“Liar,” he said, his voice playful but probing. “You’re terrible at hiding things, you know that?”

I glanced up at him, my heart doing that annoying fluttery thing it had been doing lately. He was standing there like he had all the time in the world, his green eyes locked on mine, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

“Goodnight, Lando,” I said finally, brushing past him on my way to the couch.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he called after me, his voice laced with amusement.

…

“You know, for someone who claims to be an athlete, you spend an alarming amount of time eating,” I said, glancing at Lando over the top of my menu.

“Carbs are fuel,” he replied, flashing me a grin. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I understand that we could’ve gone somewhere normal instead of whatever this place is,” I said, gesturing to the overly fancy restaurant. The kind of place where the wine glasses sparkled brighter than the chandeliers, and the menu was full of words I couldn’t pronounce.

“You’re so ungrateful,” he teased, leaning back in his chair. “Do you know how hard it was to get a table here? I had to name-drop myself.”

“Wow,” I said dryly. “The struggle.”

“Exactly. And now you’re here, about to enjoy the finest pasta in town, thanks to me. A little gratitude wouldn’t kill you.”

“Gratitude? You dragged me here under false pretenses. You said this was a ‘low-key spot.’”

“It is low-key,” he argued, gesturing around. “For Monte Carlo standards.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the smile creeping onto my face. This was just how things were with Lando—effortless, easy, and borderline ridiculous.

“Alright, what are you getting?” Lando asked, lowering his menu.

“Fettuccine Alfredo,” I said without hesitation.

“Of course you are,” he said, smirking. “Predictable.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I shot back. “What are you getting, then? Something groundbreaking? Life-changing? Revolutionary?”

“Tagliatelle al tartufo,” he said with a mockingly posh accent.

“Wow,” I said, feigning awe. “Truffle pasta. You’re really pushing the boundaries, Norris.”

“Don’t be jealous just because I have sophisticated taste,” he replied, the smirk never leaving his face.

“‘Sophisticated’ is one way to put it,” I muttered, pretending to study the menu again. “Another is ‘pretentious.’”

“You’ll be begging for a bite,” he said confidently, setting the menu down.

“Please,” I said, scoffing. “You’ll be stealing mine before the plates even hit the table.”

He leaned forward, his grin widening. “You know me so well.”

The food arrived soon after, and, as predicted, we switched plates halfway through without even discussing it. It was second nature by now, like so many other things about us.

“You know,” Lando said, twirling a forkful of fettuccine, “if this whole racing thing doesn’t work out, I could be a food critic.”

“Sure,” I said, deadpan. “Because people are dying to know what Lando Norris thinks about pasta.”

“They would be,” he said, undeterred. “My palate is unparalleled.”

“Your palate consists of pizza, chicken nuggets, and whatever I’m eating,” I shot back.

“And yet, here we are,” he said, gesturing to the table. “Me, enjoying this culinary masterpiece, and you, enjoying my company. Life is good.”

It was shaping up to be another night of easy conversation and mindless teasing until a voice interrupted us.

“Lando?”

I looked up to see two women standing at the edge of our table. They were both tall, blonde, and effortlessly elegant, the kind of women who looked like they belonged in a magazine spread rather than real life.

“Oh, hey!” Lando said, his face lighting up in recognition.

I glanced at him, watching as his entire demeanor shifted ever so slightly. He straightened up, his grin widening just enough to make my stomach twist.

“We haven’t seen you in forever,” one of the women said, her smile bright and practiced.

“I know,” Lando said, leaning back in his chair like he had all the time in the world. “It’s been a while.”

“You look great,” one of them said, her smile bright as she leaned in a little too close.

“So do you,” Lando replied, his tone polite but just warm enough to make me suddenly very interested in my water glass. The conversation floated around me, full of laughter and inside jokes I didn’t understand.

“And who’s this?” one of them finally asked, her gaze flicking to me with polite curiosity.

“This is Y/N,” Lando said, gesturing toward me with a casualness that felt too deliberate. “My best friend.”

Best friend. There it was again.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.

“Likewise,” she replied, her tone perfectly pleasant.

They didn’t linger much longer—just enough to leave their mark before excusing themselves with a wave and a promise to “catch up soon.”

“Old friends of yours?” I asked once they were gone, my voice light but with a slight edge.

“Something like that,” Lando said, taking a sip of his water.

“Something like that?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, his smirk returning. “They’re sisters. I, uh… may have had a thing with both of them. At different times, obviously.”

My fork froze midair. “Both of them?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, laughing. “It’s not that weird.”

“It’s incredibly weird,” I said, shaking my head.

“I mean, it didn’t overlap or anything,” he added, as if that somehow made it better. “But yeah… sisters.”

I stared at him, equal parts amused and horrified. “That’s… impressive? I guess?”

“Thank you,” he said, grinning like he’d just been handed an award. “Think I should call them again?”

“Sure,” I forced a laugh, stabbing at my pasta. “And then ask if they have any other sisters you might’ve missed.”

He chuckled, clearly oblivious to the sarcasm in my tone. “Good idea. Always room for a hat trick.”

My stomach churned uncomfortably, but I didn’t say anything. Instead, I focused on my plate, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way my mood had shifted.

…

The paddock was its usual chaotic self—teams rushing to prepare for practice sessions, fans peering over barriers for a glimpse of their favorite drivers, and media personnel darting between interviews. I decided to escape the madness for a bit, heading toward the staff catering building for a much-needed coffee.

The line was mercifully short, but as I joined it, I noticed someone already waiting near the front. Tall, dark-haired, and wearing a Ferrari polo with his name—Marco—stitched neatly on the chest. He turned slightly, catching my eye and offering a polite smile.

“Busy morning?” he asked, his tone warm and conversational.

“Something like that,” I replied with a small smile. “You?”

“Always,” he said with a soft chuckle. “But coffee makes it manageable, no?”

I nodded. “A universal truth.”

Marco stepped aside to let me order, a gesture so casual it almost went unnoticed. As I gave my order to the barista, I felt him glance at me again—not invasive, just curious.

“So, not Ferrari,” he said after I stepped back to wait for my coffee.

“Is it that obvious?” I joked.

“A little,” he admitted, his grin widening. “You’re far too relaxed to be one of us.”

“Should I be offended or flattered?” I asked, tilting my head playfully.

“Flattered,” he said easily. “Relaxed is a good thing.”

We fell into an easy rhythm as we waited. Marco was effortlessly charming, asking questions without prying and tossing in a few self-deprecating remarks about Ferrari’s chaos.

“You’re here with a team?” he asked eventually.

“A friend,” I said vaguely.

“Lucky friend,” he said, his tone light but genuine.

I laughed softly. “That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

Marco opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a familiar voice cut through the hum of conversation.

“There you are.”

I turned to see Lando approaching, his expression relaxed but his eyes sharper than usual.

“Hey,” I said, surprised. “I thought you were doing media.”

“Finished early,” he said, stepping closer. His gaze flicked briefly to Marco, who stood quietly by my side. “And I figured I’d find you here.”

“Good instincts,” I said lightly, though something about his sudden appearance felt… deliberate.

Marco offered his hand to Lando, ever polite. “Marco. Ferrari engineering.”

“Lando,” he replied, shaking his hand. “McLaren driving.”

Marco chuckled. “I know who you are. Good to meet you.”

“You too,” Lando said, his tone friendly but with an edge I couldn’t quite place.

The barista called my name, and I turned to grab my coffee, giving them a moment to exchange polite words. By the time I returned, Marco was stepping away with his own drink.

“Enjoy the rest of your day,” he said, offering me a small wave before disappearing into the crowd.

Lando watched him go before turning back to me. “Who was that?”

“Marco,” I said simply.

“And what was Marco talking to you about?” he asked, his tone too casual to be entirely innocent.

I raised an eyebrow. “Coffee, mostly. Why?”

“No reason,” he said quickly, taking a sip of my drink.

I studied him for a moment, noting the way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not acting weird,” he said defensively.

“You’re definitely acting weird.”

Lando sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, fine. I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, genuinely baffled.

“He was flirting,” Lando said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I blinked. “He was being nice.”

“Nice,” Lando repeated, his voice laced with skepticism. “Sure. That’s one way to put it.”

“Lando, he’s just a guy who works for Ferrari,” I said, shaking my head.

“Exactly,” he said, as if that proved his point.

There was a beat of silence as I processed his words.

“You sound jealous,” I said finally, testing the waters.

“Jealous?” he scoffed, though the flicker of something in his eyes gave him away. “Hardly. I just think you can do way better than some guy who chats you up in the coffee line.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” he asked, smirking now.

“Yes,” I said firmly, though the warmth in my chest betrayed me.

We walked back toward the McLaren garage, his mood lightening with every step. By the time we arrived, he was back to his usual self—chatting with the mechanics and laughing at some joke I’d already missed.

But his words stayed with me, replaying in my mind as I sat down with my coffee. My coffee which Lando had somehow already drank half of. 

…

The McLaren lounge was a rare oasis of calm in the chaos of a race weekend. Engineers hustled past the windows, radios crackled with updates, and somewhere in the distance, an engine roared to life. But in here, it was all plush couches, soft lighting, and a distinct lack of urgency.

I was curled up on one end of the couch, flipping through a magazine, while Oscar and Lando lounged on the other side. Lando, as usual, couldn’t sit still. He was draped sideways over the armrest, absently spinning a water bottle in his hands.

“Alright,” Lando announced, breaking the comfortable silence. “Would you rather fight one horse-sized duck or a hundred duck-sized horses?”

I looked up from my magazine, narrowing my eyes. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

“It’s an important question,” he insisted, his grin wide and mischievous.

I pretended to ponder for a moment. “One horse-sized duck. Definitely.”

Lando gaped at me like I’d just declared something outrageous. “Terrible answer. Absolutely terrible.”

“It’s the smart answer,” I shot back, sitting up straighter. “You outmaneuver one big target instead of exhausting yourself trying to wrangle a hundred tiny ones.”

“Do you even know how terrifying a horse-sized duck would be?” Lando asked, his voice rising in mock disbelief.

“And do you know how terrifying a hundred duck-sized horses would be?” I countered, raising an eyebrow.

Lando leaned forward, his grin widening. “Oh, come on. You’re telling me you’d rather face one giant, angry duck with a wingspan bigger than this couch?”

“Absolutely,” I said confidently. “Ducks aren’t that scary.”

“They can bite, you know,” he shot back, gesturing dramatically. “One snap, and you’re done for.”

I smirked, leaning closer. “I think I’d survive. Besides, I have a secret weapon.”

“What’s that?” he asked, his eyes narrowing playfully.

“You,” I said, deadpan. “I’ll just toss you in its path and run.”

Lando gasped, clutching his chest in mock betrayal. “Wow. That’s cold, Y/N. I thought we were a team.”

“We are,” I said, grinning. “But only if you pick the right answer next time.”

For a moment, he was quiet, his grin faltering just slightly as he met my gaze. It wasn’t much, just a flicker of something softer beneath the banter. But it was enough to make my stomach do that annoying little flip I’d been trying to ignore.

“Lando,” Oscar interjected, his tone casual but pointed. “You’re staring.”

“I am not,” Lando said quickly, his ears turning the faintest shade of pink as he looked away.

“You are,” Oscar said, leaning back with a smirk.

“You’re imagining things,” Lando muttered, crossing his arms.

Oscar snorted but didn’t press the issue, instead grabbing his phone and scrolling through it idly. But the look he shot Lando wasn’t lost on me—or Lando, for that matter.

As the banter settled into silence, I decided to grab a drink from the catering area, leaving the two of them alone.

The moment the door swung shut behind me, Oscar struck. “Mate, you’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

“About what?” Lando asked, feigning innocence as he fidgeted with the water bottle.

Oscar didn’t even look up from his phone. “About Y/N.”

“What about her?”

Oscar set his phone down, leveling Lando with a knowing look. “You’re acting like a lovesick puppy every time she’s around.”

Lando scoffed, though the tips of his ears betrayed him again. “That’s ridiculous. We’re just friends.”

“Sure,” Oscar said, dragging out the word like he was savoring it. “That’s why you light up like a Christmas tree whenever she walks in the room.”

“I do not,” Lando said defensively, but his voice lacked conviction.

“You do,” Oscar replied, leaning back with an exaggerated sigh. “Mate, you’re glaring holes into the back of her head every time she talks to someone else. And don’t even get me started on how you were watching her during the duck-and-horse debate like she’d just solved world peace.”

“That’s—” Lando started, then stopped, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not like that.”

“Right,” Oscar said, his smirk firmly in place. “It’s exactly like that, but go off.”

Lando opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly searching for the right words. “It’s… we’ve known each other forever. It’s Y/N.”

Oscar nodded, as if that made sense, but his smirk didn’t waver. “Don’t you think it would be time to change that soon? You two are exhausting.”

Lando shot him a look, but there was no real heat behind it.

“I’m just saying,” Oscar said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “You’re completely gone for her. Admit it already.”

Lando groaned, leaning back against the couch and running a hand through his hair. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Oscar said, grinning now. “But I’m right.”

Lando didn’t respond, his gaze drifting to the door where I’d just left. And for the first time, he let himself wonder if maybe—just maybe—Oscar was onto something.

…

The moment we walked into George’s celebration, the energy hit like a wave. The room was packed with familiar faces—drivers, engineers, and friends—dressed to the nines in that effortless way people in motorsport always seemed to manage. String lights twinkled across the ceiling, soft jazz played over the speakers, and a steady hum of conversation filled the air.

“You’re going to owe me for this,” I teased, glancing at Lando. “Dragging me here after wasting twenty minutes deciding between two identical shirts.”

“They weren’t identical,” Lando replied with a roll of his eyes, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back as we weaved through the crowd. “One had a darker stitch.”

“Completely life-changing,” I said dryly, though I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips.

“See? You get it,” he shot back with a grin, steering us toward a booth near the bar.

The way his hand lingered, warm and steady, was something I tried not to think too much about. It was just Lando being Lando—playful, touchy, and completely oblivious to the little flips my stomach insisted on doing whenever he leaned too close.

We found our way to a booth not far from the bar, where Alexandra and Charles were already seated. Charles was gesturing animatedly about something, while Alexandra sat with her usual poised grace, sipping champagne. When she saw us, her face lit up.

“Enfin, vous êtes là !” Alexandra exclaimed, waving us over. (Finally, you’re here!)

“Lando a changé de chemise trois fois,” I replied, throwing him a look. (Lando changed his shirt three times.)

Charles chuckled, leaning back with a smirk. “Toujours dramatique, hein ?” (Always dramatic, huh?)

“English,” Lando whined as we slid into the booth. “You’re ganging up on me in French. It’s not fair.”

“Pauvre bébé,” I teased, patting his arm lightly. (Poor baby.)

“Whatever that means,” he muttered, though the grin tugging at his lips made it clear he wasn’t upset.

The conversation flowed easily between the four of us. Lando, of course, dominated the chatter, weaving an elaborate story about George’s awkward rookie days. His expressions were so animated, his gestures so over-the-top, that even Charles—usually the calm and composed one—was cracking up by the end.

“That’s not true,” I said, nudging Lando with my elbow. “You’re exaggerating again.”

“I’m not!” he protested, his green eyes wide with mock innocence. “It’s all true. Every word.”

“Sure it is,” I replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Back me up here!” he said, turning to Charles.

Charles raised a brow, taking a deliberate sip of his drink. “I wasn’t there, but… I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Alexandra laughed softly, glancing at me. “Toujours l’acteur dramatique, ce Lando.” (Always the drama actor, that Lando.)

“Hey,” Lando said, pointing at her. “I know that wasn’t a compliment.”

I smirked, leaning closer. “It absolutely wasn’t.”

He gasped dramatically, his hand over his chest. “Betrayed by my own friends. I’ll never recover.”

“You’ll survive,” I said, brushing him off, though the warmth in his gaze lingered just a beat too long.

Lando eventually excused himself to grab drinks, leaving me to chat with Alexandra and Charles. As soon as he was out of earshot, Alexandra leaned in, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Il est tellement évident qu’il a un faible pour toi,” she said softly, her voice full of amusement. (It’s so obvious he has a thing for you.)

“Quoi?” I asked, my cheeks heating instantly. (What?)

“Ouvre les yeux,” she said, smirking. (Open your eyes.)

Charles chuckled, sipping his drink as he watched the exchange. “C’est écrit partout sur son visage.” (It’s written all over his face.)

“Stop,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re imagining things.”

Alexandra raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, her expression saying everything her words didn’t.

At the bar, Lando was cornered by Carlos, who leaned casually against the counter, his expression smug. 

“You know,” Carlos said, his tone casual, “you’re not very subtle.”

“What are you talking about?” Lando asked, though his focus kept drifting toward the booth where I was sitting.

Carlos raised his drink, gesturing toward me. “You’ve been staring at her all night, hermano. Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?”

Lando stiffened, his grin faltering. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Just tell her,” Carlos said, swirling his drink lazily.

“It’s not that simple,” Lando replied, his voice quieter now.

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because if I mess this up, I lose her,” Lando admitted, glancing toward our booth.

Carlos tilted his head, studying him. “You’re scared. That’s what this is.”

“Of course I’m scared,” Lando muttered, running a hand through his hair. “She’s my best friend. If it doesn’t work—”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Carlos interrupted, his voice softer now. “But you’d better do something soon.”

Carlos’s smirk softened slightly, but before Lando could reply, Liam Lawson appeared at the bar.

“Who’s the girl with Charles and Alexandra?” Liam asked, nodding toward the booth. “She single?”

Carlos grinned mischievously. “Yeah, she is—go for it.”

Lando’s head snapped toward Carlos, his glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Carlos.”

“What?” Carlos said, feigning innocence. “Just giving the kid a shot.”

…

Liam approached with the kind of confidence that only a Red Bull driver could pull off.

“Hey,” he said, sliding into the seat across from me. “You’re Y/N, right?”

I blinked, momentarily surprised but recovering quickly. “That’s me. And you are?”

“Liam Lawson,” he said, extending a hand.

I shook it, his grip firm but not overbearing. “Nice to meet you.”

“How do you know George?” he asked, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table as if he had all the time in the world.

“Through Lando,” I replied, keeping my tone polite but measured. His easy demeanor was almost disarming, but there was something about the way he looked at me that made me hyper-aware of my surroundings.

“Ah, Lando,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Lucky guy. You two seem pretty close.”

“We’ve been friends for a long time,” I said simply, taking a sip of my drink and trying not to overthink his comment.

“Well,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “his loss if he hasn’t made a move yet.”

That caught me off guard. My gaze flicked to his, searching for any hint of a joke, but he was entirely serious—or at least good at pretending to be.

“Excuse me?” I asked, my voice betraying my surprise.

Liam grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself. “Just saying. If I were him, I wouldn’t be sitting over there, letting someone else steal your attention.”

The comment was bold, and I didn’t quite know how to respond. My thoughts were a mess of confusion, flattery, and something else I didn’t want to name. Before I could formulate a response, the familiar sound of Lando’s voice cut through the air.

“Liam,” he said smoothly, stepping up to the table. His tone was calm, but his green eyes held a sharpness that made me sit up a little straighter.

Liam glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“Christian’s looking for you,” Lando said, his tone casual but firm. “Something about debrief notes.”

Liam frowned, clearly reluctant. “Now?”

“Yeah,” Lando said, nodding. “He seemed pretty keen.”

Liam hesitated, his gaze flicking between me and Lando like he was weighing his options. Finally, he sighed, pushing himself to his feet. “Alright. Nice meeting you, Y/N.”

“You too,” I replied, watching him leave with a mixture of relief and something I couldn’t quite pin down.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Lando lingered for a moment, his hands shoved into his pockets as he avoided my gaze.

“That,” Charles said, his tone thick with amusement, “was the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Lando shot him a glare, his ears turning faintly red. “Mind your own business, Charles.”

Charles just smirked, raising his glass in mock surrender. “Whatever you say.”

I didn’t say anything, but a flicker of suspicion settled in the back of my mind.

Had Lando just…? No. That would be ridiculous. Wouldn’t it?

“Let’s get a drink,” Alexandra said, pulling me to my feet.

…

As Alexandra and I made our way back toward the booth, she nudged me gently, her eyes glinting with curiosity.

“Lando looked like he was about to breathe fire earlier,” she said casually, sipping her drink.

I laughed softly, trying to deflect. “He’s always protective. It’s nothing.”

“Protective?” Alexandra repeated, raising an eyebrow. “That was not protective, chérie. That was jealousy.”

I opened my mouth to respond but stopped short as we neared the booth, Lando and Charles’s voices filtering through the hum of the room.

“It will just be awkward, mate,” Lando said, his tone low and almost resigned.

“Just talk about it,” Charles replied simply.

“It’s not that simple,” Lando muttered. “She will never be more than just a friend.”

The words hit me like a punch to the stomach. My chest tightened, and the air around me seemed to still. Alexandra’s hand touched my arm gently, but I barely noticed.

“I— I need some air,” I managed, turning away before she could respond.

The ache in my chest grew with every step I took, his words echoing in my head.

She will never be more than just a friend.

And just like that, everything I thought I’d imagined felt painfully real.

…

I turned my phone face down on the table at Gigi’s, willing myself not to glance at the screen again. The missed calls from Lando were piling up, his name lighting up my notifications every half hour like clockwork. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to him—I did. But every time I thought about his voice, his laugh, his damn words, the ache in my chest tightened.

She will never be more than just a friend.

I shook my head, forcing the thought away as the waiter arrived with my order. The smell of rich, cheesy pasta wafted up, comforting in the way only food could be. I twirled a forkful absentmindedly, hoping the carbs would somehow fill the space that had been hollowed out the night before.

The familiar growl of an engine outside pulled my attention from my plate. I glanced toward the window and froze.

The unmistakable silhouette of Lando’s Miura parked just outside, sleek and shining even under the soft glow of streetlights. A moment later, the door opened, and there he was, stepping out effortless as usual—but his expression wasn’t the easygoing grin I was used to. He looked… worried.

Before I could decide what to do, he spotted me through the window, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. He pushed through the door, his eyes locking onto mine immediately.

“There you are,” he said, relief evident in his tone as he approached my table.

I blinked, caught off guard. “Lando? What are you doing here?”

He pulled out the chair across from me, sitting down without asking. “Looking for you.”

My heart twisted. “Why?”

“Because you’ve been ignoring me all day,” he said, his voice quieter now.

I looked away, focusing on my fork. “I had my phone off that’s all.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, studying me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

“I knew I’d find you here,” he said finally, his voice softer but steady.

I glanced up, frowning. “What?”

“You always turn to cheesy Italian food when you’re upset,” he said with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s your thing.”

The casual observation caught me off guard, a mix of warmth and frustration bubbling in my chest.

“So what?” I said, my tone sharper than I intended. “You’re some kind of expert on me now?”

He sighed, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table. “Y/N, I know you better than anyone. And I know something’s wrong.”

I didn’t answer, twisting my fork in the pasta and pretending to be engrossed in my meal. But the usual comfort it brought was absent, replaced by the uncomfortable weight of his gaze.

“You’re not yourself,” Lando said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly, my tone clipped.

“Don’t lie to me,” he replied, his tone more serious than I was used to.

I set my fork down, the clink of metal against porcelain louder than it should have been. “Maybe I just don’t feel like talking.”

His eyes softened, his frustration giving way to concern. “Y/N…”

“Lando, I’m fine,” I interrupted, though the words felt hollow.

He didn’t push further, but I could see the gears turning in his head. He sat back, glancing down at my half-finished plate of pasta before gesturing to the waiter.

“Can we get the check, please?” he asked, pulling out his wallet.

I frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Paying,” he said simply, standing as the waiter approached.

“For me?”

“Yes,” he said, looking down at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “Come on.”

“Come on where?” I asked, my brow furrowing.

“You’ll see,” he said, extending a hand.

I hesitated for a moment before letting him pull me to my feet.

The warm night air hit us as we stepped out of Gigi’s, the soft sound of waves in the distance mingling with the faint hum of the city. Lando didn’t say anything, his grip on my hand firm but gentle as he led me toward Larvotto Beach, just a short walk away.

“Lando, seriously,” I said as we reached the sand. “What’s going on?”

He stopped, turning to face me, his green eyes brighter under the moonlight.

“We need to talk.” he said simply.

And just like that, my heart started racing, even though I had no idea what he was going to say.

The beach stretched out before us, quiet except for the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore. The city lights glittered faintly in the distance, their reflection dancing on the dark water. Lando walked beside me, his shoulders tense, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

For once, I didn’t fill the silence. I didn’t trust myself to. My thoughts were a whirlwind—last night’s overheard words still fresh in my mind, colliding with the unexpected intensity of this moment.

We walked like that for a while, the sand soft beneath our feet, until Lando came to a sudden stop. He turned to face me, his green eyes catching the moonlight in a way that made my stomach twist.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

I crossed my arms, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. “Try the beginning.”

He huffed out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “The beginning’s too far back. I’d be here all night.”

“Good thing I don’t have anywhere else to be,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

For a moment, he just looked at me, his expression softening. “Y/N, I have a lot of friends. Like, a lot of friends.”

I blinked, confused. “Okay?”

“But none of them get to me the way you do,” he said, his voice dropping.

I stared at him, my breath catching. “What are you saying?”

He glanced out at the water, like he was searching for courage in the rolling waves. “I mean… you’re not just anyone to me. You never have been. You’re the first person I think of when something happens—good or bad. And the idea of upsetting you? It’s unbearable.”

My throat tightened as his words sank in.

“Like today,” he continued, his voice cracking slightly. “You ignored my calls, and I couldn’t stop thinking about whether I’d done something wrong. Whether I hurt you somehow. Because if I did…” He stopped, exhaling sharply, and shook his head. “I can’t stand the thought of you being upset because of me.”

I didn’t respond, too caught up in the flood of emotions his words were pulling from me.

“When you’re upset, it breaks my heart,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “And when you laugh… it’s like my entire day gets brighter. When you’re sad, it feels like my world’s falling apart.”

“Lando,” I started, but he held up a hand, shaking his head.

“I’m not done,” he said, his words tumbling out now, faster and more frantic. “I’ve been feeling like this for so long, and I thought I could just push it aside or pretend it didn’t matter, but it does. It matters so much. And if I messed up—if I’ve ruined this somehow—I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“You didn’t—”

“I’m in love with you,” he blurted, his eyes locking onto mine. “I think I’ve been in love with you for a while now, but I’ve been too scared to admit it. And I know this might change everything, but I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way.”

I froze, his confession slamming into me with the force of a tidal wave.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know if this makes sense. I just… I can’t lose you, Y/N.”

Without thinking, I stepped closer, grabbed his face, and kissed him.

For a second, he was completely still, caught off guard. But then he kissed me back, his hands slipping to my waist as he pulled me closer. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but it deepened quickly, making the world around me disappear.

When we finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against mine, both of us catching our breath.

“So… I’m guessing you feel the same?” he asked, a small, nervous smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re so slow sometimes,” I murmured, shaking my head with a laugh.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a yes,” I said, smiling.

The relief on his face was almost comical. He pulled me into a hug, his arms wrapping around me tightly like he never wanted to let go.

“I’ve wanted to tell you for so long,” he murmured into my hair.

“And I’ve wanted to hear it,” I admitted, my voice muffled against his chest.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his brow furrowing slightly. “But… yesterday. Did I say something? Did I—”

I hesitated, my stomach twisting. “I overheard you talking to Charles.”

His face paled. “Oh.”

“You said I’d never be more than a friend,” I said, my voice wavering.

Lando winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “God, Y/N, that’s not how I meant it at all. I said that because I thought I didn’t stand a chance. Like… you’re so important to me, and I didn’t want to mess up what we already had by wanting something I thought I could never have.”

He looked at me with a mix of regret and hope. “I’m an idiot. It wasn’t because I didn’t want more—it’s because I didn’t think I could have it.”

“You are an idiot,” I said, my lips twitching into a small smile. “But you’re my idiot.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Yours, huh? Bold claim.”

I tilted my head, my grin widening. “Think you can find someone else to deal with you the way I do?”

He raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Deal with me? You mean worship my charm and tolerate my perfection?”

“Oh, please,” I shot back, rolling my eyes. “The only thing I’m worshipping is the patience I’ve built up putting up with you.”

His hands slid to my waist, pulling me slightly closer, his smirk turning more mischievous. “You love me. Admit it.”

“Not a chance,” I said, even as my pulse quickened.

His gaze dropped to my lips for the briefest moment before meeting my eyes again, his voice softening but still teasing. “You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

Before I could respond, he closed the gap, kissing me again with a fierceness that took me by surprise. This wasn’t the hesitant, nervous kiss from before. It was confident, teasing, like everything we’d been holding back had finally snapped into place.

I kissed him back, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer. His hands tightened on my waist, grounding me as he smiled against my lips, murmuring, “Still denying it?”

I broke the kiss just long enough to catch my breath, raising an eyebrow. “You think one kiss is going to make me fold?”

“Two,” he said smugly, leaning in for another without waiting for an answer.

I rolled my eyes but didn’t stop him, meeting him halfway this time. His lips curved into a grin mid-kiss, and I could feel his stupid, insufferable smugness radiating off him.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” I asked when we pulled apart, my voice laced with mock annoyance.

“Unbelievably,” he replied, his grin widening as he rested his forehead against mine. “And don’t pretend you’re not.”

“Maybe I am,” I admitted, smirking. “But if you keep talking, I might start regretting it.”

He laughed, pulling me closer. “Alright, no more talking. For now.”

“Good,” I said, leaning in again, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore fading into the background as everything else fell away.

The weight of everything unsaid was gone, replaced by the warmth of realizing we’d both been fighting our way toward the same truth: we’d always belonged to each other.

When we broke apart, Lando’s grin turned mischievous, and I immediately knew he was up to something. Before I could react, he scooped me up effortlessly and started toward the water.

“Lando! Don’t you dare!” I shrieked, squirming in his arms as laughter bubbled out of me.

“Payback for all those times you called me an idiot,” he teased, stopping just as the waves lapped at his shoes.

He finally set me down, his smirk smug and unapologetic. “Admit it. You love me anyway.”

Figures. I’m in love with someone who steals my fries and once confidently argued that dolphins were just “sea dogs.” I wouldn’t have it any other way though.

[chaostudee]

our little secret, liam lawson.

summary : y/n y/ln is liam's secret girlfriend and when she learns she is pregnant she decides to make a private insta to document her pregnancy. it isn't until their daughter arrives that liam introduces her to the world. faceclaim : zara goedemans warnings : language, pregnancy. a/n : ik alot of people do not like liam at all so i was scared to post this....but to those who do like and appreciate him this is for you 🫶

liamlawson so glad to be back on the grid again

liked by maxverstappen, yukitusonda, francocoplainto and 828,442 others.

user728 daniel should have never been replaced like this

f1fan this sport is a joke

user828 so happy for you well deserved !!

f1lover yessss finally we missed you smmm

justaninchident give him that red bull seat !!

f1girl NO YUKI

user90 christian horner i will never like you

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

y/nusername 🧸

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, kikagomes, liamlawson and 126,829 others.

alexandrasaintmleux i love uuuu

kikagomes your hair omggg girl i'm so jelly tell me your secrets plssss

user62 who is that in the first pic 🤔

username12 imagine having a facecard this strongg

f1fan y/n is the queen on insta because every time she always manages to make her posts aesthetic

y/nusername omggg tyyy 💞

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messages between alexandra and y/n

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y/npriv. made this acc to document my pregnancy journey solely for the most important people in my life, i love you all

liked by liamlawson, yourbff, yourmum, alexandrasaintmleux and 431 others.

liamlawson a bit of credit for the photos would be nice 😒

yourbff im so excited for you, you were meant to be a mummy

y/npriv. stopp ilyy

alexandrasaintmleux you are acc the cutest and i can't wait for little one to arrive

yourmum i'm so proud of you my sweet girl 💗

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

y/npriv had cravings again 🙃

liked by liamlawson, yourbff, yourdad and 262 others.

liamlawson i wish i was there to help baby im sry :,(

y/nusername just hurry up and come homeee i miss you

yourbff so so pretty my lord

yourbff and y/n im always here if u need my help literally just ask 🙄

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

y/npriv first gp and i loved it :)

liked by liamlawson, yourbff, yourmum and 320 others.

yourbff the pregnancy glow 😍

liamlawson my angel girl

liamlawson im so grateful for you

liamlawson the first of many gps btw ;)

yourmum my gorgeous daughter ❤️

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

y/nusername i love ice cream

liked by kikagomes, alexandrasaintmleux, liamlawson and 362,992 others.

user56 liam in the likes whattt

user11 he follows her what do u expect

kikagomes i aspire to be you

user45 your aesthetic is so pretty oml

user12 omgg y/n pls start a youtube channel i beg

f1fan i wish i was this pretty

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

y/npriv. baby shower

liked by yourbff, liamlawson, yourmum, alexandrasaintmleux and 407 others.

yourmum my beautiful daughter 🫶

yourbff hope you liked it (i planned it for months)

y/npriv. i loved it!!! i acc lysmmm

liamlawson you're perfect baby

liamlawson how did i get so lucky

alexandrasaintmleux pink is defo your colour

alexandrasaintmleux i can't waitt to meet her 💗

y/nusername

liked by liamlawson, carmenmundtt, kikagomes and 542,927 others.

user73 flowers from who?!?

carmenmundt so happy for you <333

user72 her smile omg im obsessed

username222 awww she looks so happy

username90 girl we know you got a man show us plssss

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

liamlawson the last few weeks

liked by yukisunoda, alexalbon, maxverstappen and 251,639 others.

user67 not liam and y/n both soft launching in the space of an hour.....a coincidence, i think not.

f1fan no.1 lightning mcqueen fan

user23 liam defender forever i fear

user00 i am speed

f1girl soft launch...okay liam i see u 🤭

justaninchident okay im the biggest danny ric fan but honestly how can u hate on liam he is so cutesy

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

liamlawsonfan liam's stream last night!!

liked by f1girl, justaninchident, f1fan and 127,928 others.

user72 at this moment he knew....he fucked up

user782 WAIT SO HE 100 PERCENT HAS A GF

f1fan okay has anyone been on twitter because now everyone thinks that y/n is pregnant?!?! wild.

user62 i wouldn't believ any of it tbh

user00 plsss it was so funny and the way he just carried on right after like nothing happened

f1lover f1 twitter can be so crazy at times because wdym people are saying that liam is going to be a father 💀

f1 BREAKING NEWS

liked by f1fan, f1girl, justaninchident and 237,921 others.

user72 WHY

username56 so strange that they didn't say why??

f1fan okay excuse me CAUSE WHAT

user89 waittt who's going to replace him

justaninchident 👀

user99 *sighs*

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

y/nusername mummy loves u sm

liked by liamlawson, alexandrasaintmleux, lilymunihe and 1,628,926 others.

user HOLD ON WHAT?!?

username girl u have some explaining to do

alexandrasaintmleux she's gorgeous y/n you must be so proud 💗

lilymunihe im sobbing acc

user829 is it liam's?!?!

f1fan congrats y/n !!

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

liamlawson i love u sm my sweet girl

liked by y/nusername, maxverstappen, oscarpiastri and 9,620,625 others.

user72 WTF

username WAIT IS THIS LIAM HARD LAUNCHING HIS DAUGHTER

f1fan im so confused rn

user12 huh?!

f1lover chattt what is going on

maxverstappen congrats mate and congrats to y/n aswell

user88 damn ig f1 twitter was right for once

user99 and before gta 6 💀

taglist⭑.ᐟ

@lottalove4evelyn @sweetestgirlintown111 @mxryxmfooty @hadidsworld @llando4norris @heavy-vettel @seonghwaexile @love2readd @nichmeddar @depressedriches

[awrkive]

angst, 30, jk please ♥️

30.  "Do you believe them over me?"

note: this is actually from my drafts mwahah just did some tiny tweaks 🤓

wc: 2.1k

Bliss.

It’s the one thing Jungkook feels when he lies on top of you as you turn around, letting his head rest in between your breasts. They heave still from your previous orgasm, and the thought makes his lips curl. From the corner of his eyes, he sees your spread arm and open palm so close to his own hand, and so for a second there, he lets himself get bold. 

Jungkook stretches his arm in the hopes of putting his own hand on top of yours, but you automatically move it away. 

“Jungkook, you're heavy.” You grunt, breaking the peaceful silence.

You would always say that whenever he’d lay on top of you – and while Jungkook knew it’s partly true, he also knew the intention behind didn’t hold any malice but only for the sake of jokes and giggles. You liked when he only pressed on more; tickled you to a wriggling mess, kissing you all over your face, but letting you win in the play-fight that would always occur after. 

But right now, the annoyance in your tone sounds palpable that it’s hard to miss because it isn’t playful like it used to be. 

Jungkook tries not to let it sting.

“I'm sorry,” he murmurs, carefully peeling his body off you, rolling on his back to lay on the mattress instead of you. 

He watches you sit up immediately when he got off, not meeting his eyes when you speak.

“Can I… use your bathroom? I'm just going to clean up.”

The lodge in his throat kept him from answering right away. But when you finally look at him for his answer, he stutters, “Y-yeah. Of course.”

“Thank you.”

Your legs are a little wobbly when you stand up from the bed, heading straight to his bathroom.

If this was from before, Jungkook would have shamelessly admired your naked body and tease you for your jelly legs. You’d roll your eyes at him in that playful manner, throw a little something at him which he’d effortlessly catch. He’d come up to you, grab your hand and kiss you, apologize even though he wasn't sorry, and follow you to the bathroom. 

But that was years before. 

It’s different now.

He should probably clean himself up, too, but he lets himself stare at the grey ceiling of his room, an arm thrown over his face, letting out heavy sighs ever now and then while he listens in to the stream of the shower. 

After a few minutes, you come out from the bathroom with a towel over your body. His towel. He knows it’s wrong to think this way, and yet, he can’t help but think, anyway, that you look good in it… Wearing his stuff at his own home. 

Jungkook opens his mouth only to close it after realizing he doesn't really know what to say. You're walking towards the bed, bending over the foot of it, picking up the clothes on the floor. 

The still quietness of the room suddenly makes Jungkook feel embarrassed in his still nude state, ironically feeling bare and stupid and vulnerable in his own skin. So he pulls a blanket to cover the lower parts of his body, sitting up. 

“I'll get going in a few minutes,” you break the silence in the process of pulling up your pants.

“W-what?” Jungkook looks at you with wide eyes. He gazes at the wall clock hanging across the room and sees it's already past 2 am. He feels a sort of panic bubbling in his chest when you start buttoning up your shirt. “It's pretty late. I don't know if it's safe for you to go out at this hour.”

He knows the chances are slim, but he wants you to stay. 

You glance behind you for the time to see it's late. 

“Oh… right.”

“I can sleep on the couch,” Jungkook offers. Too eager. Too desperate to keep you here. “Or the other room. You can sleep here.” 

You don’t say anything back for a few seconds, but when Jungkook sees you eyeing your coat hanging on his chair, he starts feeling nervous. 

“I appreciate that, Jungkook, but I think I’ll just uber home.” You say with a timid smile, tone clipped. 

And it’s enough to make him deflate. 

“Okay…”

Jungkook doesn’t want to insist any further even though every bone in his body is telling him to do so. He’s never been a fan of you taking the uber because it could really be dangerous… especially at this hour. He would like to offer you a ride himself, but judging on your tone Jungkook thinks you've had enough of him for tonight.

“... and I don’t wanna end up seeing Kim Hwayoung in my morning hair when she comes home later.” You add suddenly, and it makes Jungkook confused when you follow it with a... laugh. 

And he realizes… oh… you’re trying to joke. 

A joke that doesn’t land well. 

And you know it didn’t, because you stopped laughing immediately when you noticed he isn’t having it.

“Why would you see Kim Hwayoung in my place?” Jungkook knows what you meant, but he just wanted it to come out of you directly. 

You double down, though. “I don’t know… maybe because you’re dating her and stuff. She’s really pretty, by the way. I watched her new movie the other week.” You shrug, and Jungkook feels his heart crumbles when you do. Because you look like you didn’t care and the hard truth is that you probably really don’t. 

“It’s just the media saying it,” he says, doesn’t know why he's even bothering to explain. It’s not like… it’s not like it would matter to you. It does matter to him – that you know he’s not tied to anybody – not for the past few years, and definitely not right now after you both just had sex. 

You look at him blankly. “It’s a lot of news articles and photos,” You decide to add, “I saw on the internet.” Then, to add salt to injury, you chuckle a little, “Yunjin’s a bit... too online so she sends me stuff even though—” 

“You believe them over me?” Jungkook cuts you off. 

And right after he says it, he knows he fucked up instantly.

That was rich coming from him. 

It stuns you for a moment. And he’s about to take it back when you suddenly speak.

“I don’t know. We haven’t seen each other for a long time. I don’t know you anymore.” You say, and Jungkook could’ve gotten past the mere message of your words, but you smiled at him so gently – the first one you’ve given him today, maybe, and it breaks his heart. 

It breaks his heart because he knows that was your way of telling him that you’re walking away. It breaks his heart because he so badly wanted you to show maybe a little bit of jealousy over the fact that he’s currently linked to some actress, but instead you joke about it and you told him you don’t even care. 

Seeing you today felt like Jungkook has given you his heart willingly and you entertained him for a while, pet it for a moment only to give it back to him crushed into bits and pieces.

Jungkook doesn’t know when exactly you finished gathering all your things, and how the silence after your last words stretched into a few minutes. All he knows is that now, you’re walking towards him with a small smile on your face and it’s stupid to cling onto it with so much hope, but Jungkook’s now used to being hurt. 

“Thank you for inviting me, Jungkook.” He feels his throat constricting when you plant a delicate kiss on the apple of his cheek. “I'm going now.”

He wants to stop you, but the words on the tip of his tongue find it hard to let themselves verbalize. He couldn't.

Jungkook couldn’t even say anything as he watches you leave his room and disappear from his sight. It makes his eyes sting at the realization that it might’ve been the last time he’d see of you. 

“Fuck.” He whispers to himself, agonizing over everything that just happened but he knows alcohol would help.

His therapist would be disappointed but he doesn’t care at all because it’s a sham, anyways. His manager had told him it’d be good for him but he’s never taken any of the sessions seriously and he doubts a shrink genuinely cared about fixing the privileged life of a famous popstar. Jungkook’s probably just a name on her notepad list, something to check off of her schedule for the day. 

So he stands up from his bed, vision a bit blurry from the unshed tears that frame his eyes, but he doesn't miss a beat at taking out a Dalmore and a glass from the cabinet beside his bed. 

Jungkook knows he has no right to wallow in this stupid self-pity because he knows all too well that he did this to himself. Everything bad that happened in his life was a product of his poor decision-making skills. 

One drunken night.

It was that one drunken night.

You've fought all throughout your relationship but that particular month five years ago was the biggest predicament you two have ever encountered. You were promoted at your work but you had to go abroad; meanwhile, Jungkook was offered to be signed at the biggest labels in the music industry, which required him to leave, too. What was supposed to be good news turned into endless arguments and at the time, it feel like they didn't stop. You were at each other's throats for every single little thing, and there were many moments you told each other things that you both know well you didn't mean but didn't apologize for either. 

And Jungkook got fed up, simply put. 

But to this day, he still doesn't know what exactly happened that night. He smoked some shit, got high, paired it with alcohol, and the next thing he knew, he was in a bedroom he was sure you two didn't own – with a naked woman beside him that was definitely not you. 

When he went home later that day, ready to beg for your forgiveness, you were already packing your things, sobs echoing in your apartment. He remembers trying to reach out for you, touch you, all the while apologizing profusely and repeatedly, but all you said to him was to stay the fuck away from you with venom he didn’t know you could spit. You told him you hate him; that he was the worst fucking person in the entire world. It’s still vivid in his head when you broke into a loud cry and asked him what you did to deserve that.

It still plays in his head everytime he tries to sleep at night. He couldn't get out the picture of you crying, so broken and so fragile when you tried to hit him as he took every jab, thinking that it would erase his mistake. 

He was an asshole. Still is. And he doesn't have the right to be sad over you leaving him again because he betrayed you first; your trust, your love, your faith in him, every single thing that you established throughout the years you've spent together. 

But right now, he lets himself get drunk on the whiskey he's taken out because at least it makes him numb. It makes him think about those blissfull moments with you five years ago, and with enough delusion, he could almost block out the bad ones.

And it does make him fall asleep. 

Jungkook doesn't know if he'll ever see you again. He didn't even ask where you're staying now that you're back in town. Didn't even ask for your number. Because you didn't give either of them and he didn't want to push. 

When the sun is up, he would wake up with a mess on his bed as per usual, hungover to death with no one but his manager to take care of him and tell him to get his shit together. And it’s not because he cares about Jungkook, it’s just because he gets a shit ton of money for pretending to care about him. But hey, Jungkook benefits from it, too. He’s got this huge empty house all for himself because Minho was a fucking greedy businessman and Jungkook likes working his body for the endless, pointless promotions because it makes him feel something.

But most importantly, when the rays hit the blinds and force him out of bed, he’s sure he'll still love you – even though you don't need him to anymore. Even though you don’t need him anymore, and even though you don't want him around anymore.

He’ll love you even though it's now impossible for you to ever feel the things you felt for him years ago. 

Jungkook will always love you, but he knows it won’t be enough to repair the damage he’s already done. 

[loverangels]

coincidence?

pairings: timothee chalamet x fem!reader

request: How about timothée chalamet x fem reader who have never interacted, reader always attends events with dresses but she also likes to wear men's clothes, so at an event she decides to wear a men's suit (with certain adjustments) it ends up being the same as the one timothée brings to the eventSorry if this is written wrong, English is not my main language and I used Google Translate to write it

The red carpet was chaos, as it always was. A shimmering blur of sequins, satin, and silk gowns. The kind of event where everything—every glance, every step, every breath—felt just a little too big. You’d spent years attending these things in the safety of dresses, where elegance was your armor and the compliments were easy, if not a little predictable.

But tonight was different. Tonight, you didn’t want predictable. You wanted daring.

So, you wore a suit. Not just any suit, though—your suit. pinstriped and black, impossibly tailored, kissed with little satin details that caught the light just right. A sleek black shirt underneath, unbuttoned just enough to hint at softness, paired with sky-high heels and a swipe of red lipstick. Feminine, but sharp. Timeless, but undeniably modern. You’d spent weeks designing it, dreaming it, and now it was here. You felt like art, and when you stepped out of the car, the flashes of the cameras confirmed it.

For the first few minutes, it was a blur of movement, smiles, and flashes. The crowd buzzed, a wave of murmurs rolling from one end of the carpet to the other. At first, you didn’t think much of it. Red carpets always had a low hum of excitement, and you figured your suit was just turning heads.

But then you heard it.

"Wait—isn’t that—"

"They’re wearing—"

“Matching suits?!”

You glanced up, following the whispers like a trail of breadcrumbs, until your eyes landed on him.

Timothée Chalamet.

Standing there, a little to the side, impossibly cool and slightly tousled, wearing a suit that was… oh. Oh.

It was your suit. Well, not exactly, but close enough that the resemblance felt deliberate. The same sharp cut, the same all-black palette, the same satin accents that gleamed under the lights. It was as if the universe had quietly handed you a partner for this sartorial crime, and that partner happened to be Timothée freaking Chalamet.

Your steps faltered for half a second, but you recovered quickly. (You hoped.) He must have felt your gaze because suddenly, his head turned, and his eyes locked onto yours.

For a moment, you couldn’t breathe. Not because of who he was (okay, maybe a little because of who he was), but because of the way his face shifted. First, confusion, soft and curious, followed by realization—a spark in his eyes that spread into a slow, crooked smile. The kind of smile that made you feel like you’d just walked into the punchline of a joke you didn’t know you were telling.

You didn’t have time to overthink it. You kept walking, each step measured, heels clicking against the polished floor. As you passed him, you tilted your head ever so slightly and said, “Guess one of us is going to have to change.”

His laugh was warm and light, like it was meant just for you. “Great minds think alike?”

“Or someone’s been sneaking peeks at my sketches,” you replied, lifting an eyebrow in challenge.

And then came the laugh. That laugh. The one that lit up his entire face and made the world around you feel just a little softer, like maybe this wasn’t the chaos you thought it was.

“If I’d seen this coming,” he said, his voice dipping low with a teasing lilt, “I would’ve brought a backup. But I have to say, you’re pulling it off better than I am.”

Heat crept up your neck, a traitorous blush, but you smirked through it. “Well, at least it’s not a gown. That would’ve been embarrassing for you.”

His grin widened, bright and effortless. “Touché.”

It should have ended there, but of course it didn’t. The photographers loved the two of you together, your matching suits now the centerpiece of the night’s chaos. And Timothée? He leaned in, voice low enough that only you could hear, and whispered little jokes between camera flashes.

“So, should we start planning our next matching outfit now, or play it by ear?”

“You know, people are going to start shipping us, right?”

“Do you think we’ll get a discount if we order matching suits in bulk?”

You bit back a laugh, trying to maintain your composure, but he made it nearly impossible. By the time you reached the end of the carpet, your cheeks ached from smiling, and you’d almost forgotten the cameras were even there.

Inside, the event blurred into the background—drinks, chatter, speeches. But somehow, you kept crossing paths with him. Once at the bar, then at the dessert table, and finally, during a quiet moment when your tables were coincidentally (or not so coincidentally) near each other.

“Okay,” he said, leaning over with that same mischievous smile, “but really. Did you steal my look, or did I steal yours?”

You sipped your drink, playing it cool. “I think the universe is playing a prank on us.”

“Well, the universe has good taste,” he said, his tone teasing but warm. “So, are you going to start wearing suits to every event now? Because I might need to step up my game.”

“Only if you promise to wear a gown next time,” you shot back, arching a brow.

His laugh -soft, full of something you couldn’t quite place- made you smile despite yourself. “Deal,” he said, eyes crinkling at the corners.

You didn’t expect to see him again, but just as you were about to leave, he appeared, almost like he’d been waiting. “Hey,” he said, his voice quieter now, less playful but just as warm. “Tonight was fun. Unexpected, but fun.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, smiling softly. “Thanks for not making it weird.”

His lips quirked into another smile. “Anytime. But next time, let’s coordinate on purpose. Deal?”

You rolled your eyes but laughed anyway. “Deal.”

As you stepped outside, your phone buzzed with notifications. Somewhere online, a picture of the two of you in your matching suits had already gone viral. Captions like “Fashion soulmates?” and “Power couple energy!” flooded your feed. You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips.

The universe, it seemed, wasn’t quite done with you yet.

[fruitypi]

Okay so I can't stop thinking about one scene in sonic movie 3

⚠️Spoilers btw⚠️

So after Shadow almost killed Tom and the Wachowski's siblings are left alone. Sonic was full of grief and anger. He wanted justice.. or rather revenge. He knows he can't defeat Shadow with the power he had. He tried that already. He needed master emerald.

He just had to get to know the location of it.

The argument begins. Knuckles— being the only to know the whereabouts of the emerald— recognized, that Sonic's logical judgment is currently of service and refused to give up the location, he keeps telling his brother he doesn't think straight (haha, get it? Bcuz he's ga-), that emerald will not be used to hurt others again.

And now to the most important part;

Instead of going with the scene further, they decided to make a cheap joke; "haha, Knuckles actually gave the emerald to Wade! He's such a goofhead!" And I must say it was really underwhelming for me.

When the characters visibly started to get shaken by emotions, the music tensed and the whole scenery was filled with an upcoming fight scenario I really thought this would be a very emotional scene and when it just turned into a cheap joke I was really unimpressed.

I know, this is a kids movie and all, but now imagine how cool this scene would be if it looked like this:

The diplomacy failed. Sonic growled as he started at Knuckles, pure anger in his eyes. The echidna didn't look more calm, his hands curled into fists. Tails still tried to talk them out of this, but it's no use. Sonic lunged towards his older brother with every kick and punch he managed to think of. With his incredible speed, it seemed Knuckles was attacked by at least 3 people. The dust quickly surrounded the three, making the oldest's situation even worse due to limited visibility. But as the battle continued, one thing started to become apparent.

The echidna wasn't fighting back.

He was cutting every attack short, but didn't hit back, taking every hit he couldn't dogde, but didn't counter. He was angry, mad even at his brother for trying to get the information out of him. This stung him deeply. In the end, however, it was his family. His tribe. Something to be protected, not fought with. He didn't want to hurt his brother, so he wasn't hitting back.

After many dragging minutes the dust finally settled. Two brothers stood in the middle of the clearing, both breathing heavily.

Now you can do your Wade joke!

Am I the only one who hoped for something like this? I mean it was such an emotional scene just two seconds ago. Joke just.. didn't feel right at that moment. Also the scene with Shadow after this one would make more sense imo.

And that's all I have to say, have a nice day!

[fareehaandspaniards]

Happy birthday, @jarognieva !!!! I am late, work takes all my time, but in any way!!!

I am happy I know you! Hope that one day I will be able to hug you IRL, but for now I do it mentally 🥺

[bestagons]

swap

[thereweredragonshere]

I skip all Hiccstrid scenes in Rtte because buffstrid is not canon💔

[thephouseplants]

Dan and Phil are living the life. Like I'm sorry but really. I mean can they be living anymore of the life.

Frankly I think it is gross and awful and they need to shut up and go away forever thanks! Go! Stop it! No more Hoilday photos! Shhhh!

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Just had my first psychiatrist appointment in like two years! Not to brag, but I improved on mental illness so much that I was upgraded from Bipolar 2 to Bipolar 1! 😎

[gregoftom]

i’m speechless

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

ah yes, she's concerned about the aggressor and attacker who was invading them six months ago. something is wrong with the empire right now, poor edelgard; whatever could've happened to her? :(

like... what. why do you care about what's going on with her specifically when she's the person who made the decision to invade leicester? does the whole war just mean nothing to marianne? it's just totally fine that all those people died in a war edelgard started? poor edelgard, something happened to her after she started her attack? you're concerned about the leader who gave the order to attack your home?

hopes has stupid lines but this one is top tier of the top tier and just an excuse for more edelgardjerking from the writers.

[alpinelogy]

.

[ourceliumnetwork]

huh... the way my parents showed me the world worked was really kind of fucked up, it's no fucking wonder i have an anxiety disorder frankly.

[l0rd-0f-c0ws]

I frequently feel completely isolated no matter how much I talk to people. So that's fun

[seithr]