#To wake up like that

[yourlocaldilemma]

Golden Thoughts {part 4} (ln4)

Lando Norris x fem!sprinter!reader

word count: 2.1k

part 4/? part one, part two, part three, part four, part five

warnings: not edited

a/n: comment and reblog :) feedback is much appreciated! ______________________________________________

The cold corners, minimal furniture and stark white paint of Lando’s flat are the exact opposite of the bubbly boy that stands in front of you.

“Sooooo?” He drags out the word while bouncing on the balls of his feet. You’re standing in the kitchen, the ocean infront of you, cooking space behind you and his large flat spanning further to the right. 

“It’s completely lovely, it’s just not as you as I thought it would be.”

“Were you expecting a university frat boys place?” He tosses a smirk in your direction.

His response pulls a smile to your face. “I was expecting some art on the walls, maybe some of your merch lying around.”

“There’s merch in a closet somewhere,” he chuckles, “a lot of it.”

His voices softens into a curious tone. “As for the art, it’s complicated, but sometimes it feels easier to-, it’s almost-, I feel like-,”

“Like if you personalize it then it feels like home, and when it feels like home it be becomes that much more impossible to be away so much.” You finish his thought for him.

“Exactly.” A shared look of understanding flashes from your face to his. The sport may be different but you share a similar lifestyle.

Tapping your nails on the quartz counter to end the weighted silence, you seat yourself on one of the barstools placed beneath the kitchen island. 

“I cooked last time.” You explain after he makes no effort to move. 

Hesitantly he begins to pull utensils from shelves, looking severely out of place even in his own kitchen. There’s very little food in the large fridge, and less than 30 seconds into watching him try to slice a cucumber you decide to take over. His cuts are uneven, messy, and his fingers seem at high risk. 

“You don’t cook much do you.” 

“You’re judging! No judging!” He whines and laughs, rubbing his hands over his face. 

You join him behind the counter as you regain the same easy dance of cooking and conversation as in Australia. You learn that he always has chicken and salad before race day, he’s always wanted a kitten and you pick up on his habit of wringing his hands when he’s nervous or excited. By the time you finish cooking, you know more about him than you ever thought possible.

~~

Lando takes a running leap onto the couch like an overexcited puppy.   

“Where’s your bathroom?”

“Down that hallway to the right.” He points with a nod. Humming a thanks, you walk down the hallway he directed. The bathroom, not unlike the rest of the house, is almost completely white with only small silver features. The counter is scattered with what you assume to be an assortment of Lando’s colognes. 

You wander back into the living room to find Landos eyebrows scrunched and a twinkling light of amusement in his eyes as he looks down, features accentuated by the glow of a screen . The edges of your lips turn up in a slow smile at his childlike expression before you recognize the phone case as yours. Your heart skips a beat in advance of dropping into your suddenly cold stomach. 

Only after he raises his head to look at you do you realize you’ve been standing at the hallway entrance for long seconds. 

“Care to explain?” He twerks an eyebrow upwards and nods at your phone. Your rapidly beating heart doesn’t slow as you amble your way over to sit next to him on the couch, overly nervous for no exact reason.

When he flips the phone around to let you analyze the screen, The Notification Centre is overflowing with alerts. The first three pop ups that catch your eye are all courtesy of the F1 app. News Headlines and reports from qualifying sided with little pictures span the screen. 

“I don’t see what you find so entertaining. I never read those articles anyway.”

“Sometimes I do,” Lando ventures with a roll of his shoulders, “to know what people are mad at me for. That’s not what I was talking about though.”

You meet his ocean blue orbs as his deep pink lips stretch into a grin. what would it feel like to have them on your-

“You have my Instagram notifications on.” He stated proudly.

You lash out to snatch your phone from his grip, swiping to clear everything from your Lock Screen. 

Pointing your nose upwards dramatically, you reply with a sarcastic flourish. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lando just hums a sunshiney tune under his breath and stares at you with a bright smile, like you just solved global hunger. 

“I’m going to find a movie now and you’re going to braid my hair.” You salute him behind his back as he moves to let you begin to braid. 

“How does the little mermaid sound?”

“Amazing.” You giggle at his choice. 

Not 20 minutes into the movie, you feel Landos now braid-adorned head drop onto your shoulder. You expect to see him grinning cheekily up at you but when you look down his eyes are closed, and he’s taking little soft breaths. 99.9 percent of you wants to shake him until he wakes up but with his race tomorrow you decided you can let him get some sleep. 

You focus on the movie, but feeling your phone vibrating in your pocket breaks your concentration. You see four messages from Charles and cross your fingers he doesn’t somehow know you’re at Landos as you unlock your phone. 

You know Lando is awake again when you feel tingling breaths on your neck as he peeks over you shoulder to look at your phone. Even though the texts are all written in French, it isn’t hard to translate the angry meaning of the emojis and multiple uses of Landos name. You can see him frown in the reflection of your phone and his mouth twitches as if he can’t decide what to say.

“He’s going to hate me forever.” You complain.

“He will never hate you. He just needs to get the fact that you’re not only his anymore through his thick head.” Lando wiggles further back into the couch. “He will, on the other hand, hate me forever, which might cause some problems for my PR team.”

A breathy laugh escapes your mouth as you tip your head back to meet the couch cushion. 

“I don’t think I was his in the first place.” You scold Lando with a sarcastic undertone that he doesn’t seem to catch seeing how quickly he sits up to look at you.

“I didn’t mean it like that of course you weren’t his, you’re nobody’s I just mean,” his rambling pauses thoughtfully, “I think he kept you a secret for more reasons then he told you.”

You roll your eyes. “What are you talking about Lando?”

“I mean look at you. You’re absolutely gorgeous,body and soul. And you’re brilliant, and hilarious and independent, and I think you care a lot more than you let on. Charles knew that anyone who met you would never want to leave you alone, meaning he would lose more of you. So he kept you to himself.” 

Looking down at his lap, Landos flushed a deep rose colour that blooms from his neck to the tips of his ears. You can feel your face prickling with heat alike his. Those were not words that were exchanged by “just friends”. Your breaths sync as the room goes completely silent around you. 

“Thank you, Lando. That was beautiful. No one has said anything like that about me in a very, very long time,” you whisper, as his forehead swims closer and closer to yours in the thick air that filled the room as he spoke. 

“It’s true.”

“Lando.” You meant it as a warning but it comes out as more of a gentle whimper as you look up through your lashes to see his eyes, sapphire swirled with pastel teal and flecks of powder blue all in one. 

You watch his Addams apple bobs as he swallows and pulls away. 

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” 

You both return to watching the movie but the colors blur together and a grainy glaze slides over your eyes. The feeling of Lando being so close to you has a hazy veil over you. You’re still close enough you can feel his soft hoodie brushing against your arm.

“I should probably go soon. I have a really early flight tomorrow.”

“You could sleep here.”

He suggests it so easily, like you’d slept over at his place time and time again. 

“Lando, I barely know you and you barley know me.”

“I’d like to though.”

A hopeful smile makes your eyes crinkle as you look at him and Lando, who returns it, extends his legs to lie down on the couch. When he catches your pursed lips and the skepticism that roles off you in waves, he sighs. 

“One hour. It’s not that late and I’ll drive you back after.”

“Lando, I'm not good with things like this. I’ve always been someone who’s better alone. I didn’t have many friends growing up and track never helped with that much. And over time, I realized it’s better that way!”

“Because you won’t get hurt?”

“If you love someone or something, you’re giving them the ability to hurt you. I love sprinting with my entire soul, so that already one thing,” you shrug, “it’s just easier.”

“I get that. I truly do. But what I’ve learned is that if you don’t take the risk you could miss out on loving something that could make you happy.”

He catches your eyes and you can’t tear your gaze away from the jewels of his eyes. 

“Just an hour?” His dimples show as he gives you an endearing smile. 

~~~ 

You can feel bright sunlight on your eyelids and a warm entity encircling your body in a way that feels comfy and safe. The light only seems to grow until you inwardly moan and flip around in a fruitless attempt to escape the suns beams. Disoriented and tired, you split your eyes open the tiniest bit to allow the world to fade into view. 

The sun directly in your face once again, you shift again. A low groan rings from behind you and your memory returns in one fast SnapBack to reality. 

“Shit!”

the comforting warm blanket Lando groans again as you try to sit up. His hand is wrapped low and tight around your waist which must of happened sometime during the night. 

The night you weren’t supposed to spend at his house in the first place.

You hiss at him. “Lando! I have a flight this morning!”

He makes a noise of protest but releases his grip on you. 

You scramble around, swearing in multiple languages while trying to find your phone. Lando watches you, still not half awake, from the couch. When you find your phone face down on the floor, you turn it on to nine missed notifications from Charles and a clock reading 5:30 am. 

Heaving a sigh of partial relief you sit up straight and immediately notice the kinks in your back. You were going to pay for yesterday in more ways than one. 

“I still have two hours before I have to leave for the airport.” You state to no one in particular, your brain working a thousand miles a minute. 

“So things aren’t as bad as they seem. I’m still fucked mind you, just not as deeply. All my stuff is at my hotel still. Oh my-“ you pull at your hair as blood rushes to your head when you stand up. 

Lando pats the spot you were lying in only moments earlier. 

“Shit is going to get fucked either way Y/N. come back to bed.”

“Lando!”

“Just for 3 minutes? I’ll drive you to the airport after?” 

“Lando!!”

~~~~ 

After running around like a chicken with its head cut off, you make it to the airport seven minutes earlier then you wanted to. As you pull the luggage out of the boot of Landos car, you can see him fiddling with his hands again, pulling his rings on and off. 

Peeking his head over the dark tinted windows, he meets your eyes. 

“Thank you for having me for dinner. Even if you did trick me into spending the night at your place.” 

“Best sleep I’ve had in a while.” He smirks.

“Goodbye.” 

“Not goodbye.” 

You raise an arched eyebrow at him.

“I’ll see you soon.”

“You seem sure of that Mr. Norris.”

“I am.” He turns on his car and begins to inch away

You call after the slowly moving car. “Oh and Lando? Good luck tomorrow!” 

The morning sun glints off the top of his dark McLaren, the brake lights blinking red as he slows to peek his messy morning curls out the window. 

“I got my braid!”

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The math just adds up!

[taffywabbit]

they should invent a new type of "staying in bed for 2-3 hours after you wake up repeatedly opening and closing apps on your phone" where it makes you feel awesome and energized and emotionally fulfilled

[the-gayest-sky-kid]

god i love my friends. shout out to people who love their friends. this is a post for friend lovers

[freefallintothevoid]

Dick Grayson's unmatched success as a child vigilante makes a lot more sense when you remember the Court of Owls was a thing and that Dick was meant to be the next Grey Son.

There is no way that someone at Haly's Circus wasn't there keeping an eye on him while he grew up. A future weapon needs to be trained and monitored after all, and a circus, a place where weird skills are completely normal, is actually a great place to secretly train a child.

You know, just some knife tricks that translated really well into actual fighting. How to get out of restraints and pick locks while under a time limit. Death defying acrobatic stunts that coincidentally do wonders for parkouring. That sort of thing. Nothing that seems out of place for a boy growing up around circus performers to learn, but would literally any where else.

I mean, while I fully believe that most kids would want to kill the man responsible for their parents deaths, Dick was weirdly prepared to go through it. He tracked down Zucco with way more ease than any normal child should have too. He became the first child vigilante, for goodness sake. The first Robin! He only started getting formal training after he basically forced Bruce into it!

Bruce himself has no idea that this kind of competency in a child is unusual, considering he was much too blinded by the similarities between his and Dick's tragic orphanhoods.

Alfred is in a similar boat because he’s desensitized to weird children after he somehow managed to successfully raise Bruce 'The Batman' Wayne, so he doesn't clock the hyper-competency as abnormal either.

By the time the other batkids start popping up (Jason 'The Audacity' Todd, borderline-street rat with no fear) (Tim 'the greatest stalker in Gotham history' Drake, child genius, also bullied his way into becoming Robin) (Barbara 'raised by the only uncorrupt cop in gotham' Gordon) (Stephanie 'daddy issues and spite' Brown) (Duke 'Pretends he's the normal one and people believe him' Thomas) it's too late.

It would also explain how Dick got along so well with Damian out of all of them. Similar childhood with different approaches and all that. On some subconscious level, Dick recognises and resonates with the murderous ten year old assassin with strong familial ties to a secret elite assassin organization.

It isn't until after the whole Court of Owls and Grey Son reveal that suddenly Dick realises a whole lot of things about his childhood that suddenly make a lot more sense.

[valtsv]

obviously people steal things from other people it's one of the oldest tricks in the book but it still always surprises me to learn that people plagiarise because my introduction to the concept was basically being told that if i ever plagiarised anything i would be executed by firing squad and my head would be removed and displayed on a spike outside the walls of the hallowed academic institution i was attending as a warning to others

[ahotknife]

the thing is that childhood doesn't just end when you turn 18 or when you turn 21. it's going to end dozens of times over. your childhood pet will die. actors you loved in movies you watched as a kid will die. your grandparents will die, and then your parents will die. it's going to end dozens and dozens of times and all you can do is let it. all you can do is stand in the middle of the grocery store and stare at freezers full of microwave pizza because you've suddenly been seized by the memory of what it felt like to have a pizza party on the last day of school before summer break. which is another ending in and of itself

[ionomycin]

[fatliberation]

anti-fatness is not just body shaming.

anti-fatness is discrimination. anti-fatness is having next to no legal protections for being discriminated against. anti-fatness is being denied housing, jobs, receiving less pay and promotions (legally) because of your size. anti-fatness is being denied access to clothing, seating, transportation, and other human rights because infrastructure has been designed to exclude you. anti-fatness is less likelihood of receiving a fair trial. anti-fatness is dehumanization. anti-fatness is being denied necessary surgeries, but not surgery that amputates the digestive tract with the intent to starve and shrink you (it doesn’t work either). anti-fatness is mutilation. anti-fatness is being subject to torture devices that bolt your mouth shut. anti-fatness is being told by close friends, family, and professionals that you are better off living with an eating disorder or other life-threatening illness. anti-fatness sells you starvation as a guaranteed opt-out of oppression, but doesn’t tell you that bodies will always regain weight to survive. anti-fatness blames and punishes you for failing at an achievement that is quite literally impossible. anti-fatness is a $90 billion dollar industry. anti-fatness is being denied gender-affirming care. anti-fatness is being barred from in vitro fertilization and reproductive healthcare. anti-fatness is being barred from adopting children. anti-fatness is being removed from your loving parents because they couldn’t make you thin. anti-fatness is intentionally starving your own baby so they won’t get fat. anti-fatness is disproportionately high suicide rates. anti-fatness is being killed at the hands of medical neglect and mistreatment. anti-fatness is the world preferring a dead body over a fat one.

[embraceyourdestiny]

to any americans who feel "paralyzed" and "dont know what to do" to help with gaza:

reading a fucking book. i beg of you.

in a time of knowledge suppression is it your duty to arm yourself with knowledge.

read about americas occupations in the middle east.

read about 9/11 from outside of america and see how they inflicted senseless harm and violence to countless amounts of people and have been suppressing your rights for the past 2 fucking decades.

read about any of the countless wars from the past 30 years. especially from a civilian's. and the victims and survivors' perspective. listen to the horror stories and do not plug your fucking ears as to what your country is doing.

and read about fucking gaza and palestine and keep up with what is happening no matter how "sad" or "uncountable" you might get.

dont look away from this.

you dont have the right to be comfortable during countless active genocides.

if you're knowledgeable, you're powerful, and our current state doesnt fucking want that.

you have the power to change things if you open your eyes and scream to the world.

wake the fuck up.

Edit: please check the reblogs there are readings and ways to help

[anna-scribbles]

emma dupain cheng on the brain😽🎀

more:

[egophiliac]

buckle up lads we're going BACK INTO THE BOOK

[caratbow]

ily chappell roan of arc

x

prints💌

[dokani]

decided i’m gonna get this printed as a poster and just hang it above my bed so each morning i can wake up feeling like a victim of medical malpractice

[hinamie]

quick itfs sketch page

[miniiinebulaee]

[Aziraphale voice] i'm soft!