#lando norris fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

clovermoters · 2 days ago

Text

anytime, anywhere - lando norris x childhood sweetheart!reader

summary - lando fell in love when he was ten years old, heres small moments of that love over the years.

warnings - kisses, panic attacks, small amount of violence & lando being a SAP

wc : 8k

some music - work song, hozier | my love mine all mine, mitski | love of my life, harry styles | pov, ariana grande | super rich kids, frank ocean.

authors note - hi! as always, enjoy! reblogs & likes are always hugely appreciated!! lots of love, clove!

ten - the meeting

The fluorescent lights of the afterschool program shined bright as you were sitting at the snack table, quietly picking away at the food your mom packed for you this morning. It was 5:30, most kids had been picked up by their parents or siblings. Leaving you and four other kids left, one was a curly haired boy who was sitting not far across from you. Working away at his homework.

You remembered he was in your class. Lando, you remember, was his name. He was quiet, and he sat far across the room from you, so you haven't spoken to him much since meeting him in september.

One of the coordinators for the program, Allie walks into the room, having left minutes prior to take a phone call, she looks at you with a sympathetic look on her face before sitting down next to you carefully.

You already know what she's going to say

“Hi sweetie, that was your mum” she began, taking a deep breath trying to keep her voice low. “Your parents are going to be a bit late today, your mum said dad will get here as quick as possible” she continued.

This wasn't the first time your parents have called, they were late most days, you tried to understand that they have unpredictable jobs, with both your mum and dad being doctors at one of the top hospitals in the country.

You huffed, nodding before pulling out a colouring book that was given to you by your teacher as homework, the same homework the brunette across the room was doing.

Down the table, the other three boys seemed to have heard your conversation with allie.

“Ooooohhh y/n’s parents abandoned her!” one of them taunts, the boys burst into giggles before Allie sends them a stern face. they don't let up.

“Isn't this like the third time this week? They must forget about you alot” they poke while their laughter grows louder

You see out of the corner of your eye, Lando looks up from his book, his eyes looking to you while your head stays down, trying to focus on your coloring.

Tears prick your eyes as Allie sends them to the hallway, probably to tell them off, some more. The sound of your sniffles fill the room and Lando watches you wipe your tears with your sleeve before he stands up and makes his way across the room and places himself right next to you.

“I like your colouring” he says shyly, like he isn't sure what to say. You turn to him, his green eyes looking into yours as he offers you a warm, genuine smile. You find yourself smiling softly back at him, like it was contagious.

“Thanks, yours is okay” you giggle mischievously, looking down to see his work. His colours were slightly different than yours, but you both had the same idea with shades and detail, his jaw dropped in faux offense.

“Hey! They look the same!” he says, you both break out into a fit of giggles, playfully chatting while you continue with your artwork.

When Allie returns, she finds you two in a very in depth conversation about the movie you watched in class today. Crayons scattered around the abandoned colouring books, she smiled softly at the two ten year olds as she watched a special bond form between them.

You chatted about everything, Lando told you about his newly found hobby in karting. How he wanted to try competing and was mostly excited to miss school for races. You told him small details about you, his attention never wavering as you spoke.

You both chatted until the rest of the kids had left, leaving just you two and Allie, who was sitting quietly in the corner playing some game on her phone.

“You should come to one of my races” he declares, “i'll let you drive my kart” you cringe slightly, frowning at the boy. the thought of operating the machinery scares you slightly. “When you win a race I'll go karting with you.” You say shaking your head at him,

The door opened and in walked a lady whose eyes found lando almost instantly, lando had his back to the door since he was fully immersed in his conversation with you.

“I think your mums here” you say as Lando whips his head around to see his mum. He smiled, getting up from his seat and hugging her tight. You felt your shoulders drop as you realized lando would now go home, leaving you alone.

“Hi sweetheart, ready to go home?” she asks her son, who hesitates before he answers. Lando made eye contact with you, the girl he’d found a new friend in and felt quite sad to leave her here, when he got to go home.

Looking at his mum, he shakes his head “no i wanna stay with y/n until her dad comes.”

His mum looked at you, shrinking into your chair with all eyes on you. She had a sparkle in her eye as she watched him make his way back to you. She could tell her son had grown fond of you by seeing how he continued your conversation as if his mum wasn't there.

“so, if I win a race, you will come karting with me. deal?” he holds his small hand out, you smile, showing him a toothy smile that made his ten eight year old brain stop in time. Wanting to freeze frame it and paste it onto his eyelids.

You shake his hand

“deal.”

Fifteen - the unofficial first date

You were anxiously scuffing your feet into the asphalt of your local karting track. Lando had won his first karting race long ago, he was actually set to win his first series this year. But you two had never gotten around to getting you into a kart and on track with him.

Since that day five years ago, you two had been inseparable. He took you to races on the weekend, and you had helped him catch up in school when he needed help.

You even started going home with him after school and your parents began to just pick you up at Landos.

Lando knew he liked you, he had known since he met you. Since your hand brushed against his when you both reached for the same crayon. Your smile was contagious and he swore you grew flowers wherever you walked.

What started as a small elementary crush– over the years had bloomed into something bigger, something Lando couldn't explain just yet.

Lando was so excited to show you karting, you could see it on his face. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet while he pulled you through the garage with his hand held in yours. You tried to ignore the butterflies that have made home in your stomach years ago when Lando started getting touchy like this with you. It started with his hand lightly brushing your shoulder in conversations, hugs that lasted longer than they should’ve while his head was tucked snugly in the crook of your neck.

he leads you to a small single seater that you assumed was yours for the afternoon, “this is what you’ll be driving, i'll be in my kart with you the whole time” he explains, showing you how to control it and the proper steering technique, while throwing in a couple tips. His hand is still laced with yours as he tells you about his own kart.

You loved seeing him in his element. Watching him race was your favourite thing. You admired his face as he spoke, the freckles you've grown to love topped with his curls that he was still learning to care for properly (after you had begged him too).

“You with me?” he nudges your arm, shaking you out of your daydream. You nod

“yeah, just zoned out a bit.” you reply,

When you walked out in fireproofs and a karting suit, Lando felt like time froze, the world around him spinning to a halt as his gaze found you. He thought you looked beautiful everyday, but seeing you in a race uniform made his mind go fuzzy.

His breath caught in his throat as he watched you walk over to him, holding a helmet and gloves. His green eyes sparkling at you, like you were the only girl in the world.

He helped you with your helmet, his fingers brushing under your chin as he clipped the chinstrap, sending shockwaves down your spine. When you were secured he gave you a light tap on the side of your head before you both got in your karts, starting your engines.

You were slowly getting the hang of the machinery, the kart vibrating underneath you as you took each corner with more confidence as you went, Lando staying steadily out in front of you. Turning his neck around to check in on you when you two would rush down the straights. You understood why he enjoyed this so much, the thrill of taking a corner slightly too fast, pushing the kart to its limit.

You almost enjoyed it too much.

The barrier came quickly, you hit a dead spot on the track, your kart skidding straight into the make-shift padded wall. When Lando watched the yellow flag fly out, he immediately felt his stomach drop, turning around to see you wobbling slightly in your kart.

Stopping his kart safely off the track, his feet hit the ground as he sprinted to you, dropping in front of you, flicking his and your visor up, his eyes scanning yours frantically as he watched tears brim your eyes.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, his concern evident in his voice as he checks you over. “Where does it hurt?” you groan as he moves your arm slightly, cringing as your muscles contract from the sudden shock.

“Im okay, just annoyed, im sorry” you huff, tears threatening to fall from your eyes, you knew how much lando wanted to take you karting and show you his world. And now you've ruined it by crashing.

“No, no none of that.” he soothes, helping you out of the kart and back to the garage. Sitting you down and helping you take your helmet off. You looked adorable when he saw your messy hair from the balaclava. Lando had never wanted to kiss anyone yet, but at this moment he was coming very close to kissing you.

It was like an itch that surged his whole body, the desire he felt to do all the things a couple does. He wanted to try them, with you. The hand holding while walking to classes, the nights spent wrapping in eachothers arms, he wanted all of you.

he wanted to learn what being in love was like, and he only saw himself learning with you.

“Are you sure you're okay?” he asks cautiously, concerned that your adrenaline hasn't allowed you to fully feel any pain you might be in.

“Yeah, i think i'll just be sore” you sigh, taking a sip from the water bottle he retrieved from the cooler for you, sitting himself on the floor in front of you. He's looking up to you like he's mesmerizing every inch of your face, studying every mole and freckle.

Lando chuckles, “oh yea, you're gonna hurt like hell tomorrow” he jokes, you kick him lightly as you break into a fit of giggles, your laughs filling the garage with a sense of joy.

The mechanics nearby smile at the two of you, infatuated with the way Lando acted in your presence. On a normal race weekend, he was focused, almost unable to see past the task at hand. With you, he was light, laughing, almost as if you showed him what happiness was.

Your laughs die down and you catch yourself staring at the way his nose crinkled as he smiled. How his curls sit perfectly even after being smushed in his helmet. Your cheeks go flush while you fidget with the hem of your fireproof.

Lando gaze locked onto you, he watches as your face focuses on your fingers, smiling softly before he stands up, offering his hand out to you.

“c’mon, lets make my dad get us ice cream”

You break out into a smile, linking your fingers with his before standing up, you two making your way to find Landos dad.

Even though karting didn't go how he had planned, Lando felt today was a successful day nonetheless. Because he got to spend his day with you, showing you his other world he loved, the world he was building and working towards, imagining what the future would be when he climbs his way to the top, and he knew he wanted you to be right there with him when he did.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue” you say playfully as you walk with him towards the car, he just smiles, his curls bouncing as he strolls beside you.

“Anytime, anywhere.”

Seventeen - bruise knuckles with a side of love

The lights were dimmed as you walked into the house of your friend's house, music was pumping through the speakers providing background noise to the conversations you could hear flowing throughout the room.

Your eyes scanned the room, looking for the familiar head of chocolate curls who you refused to admit was the whole reason you had come. Lando had been away karting for the past week and you haven't seen him, when you spot him, he has his back turned to you fully engrossed in a conversation with Max Fewtrell.

Max's eyes catch your from over landos shoulder, a small smirk creeping into his face as he announces your entrance.

“ayeee!! There she is!” he shouts, landos head whips around, slightly confused to who Max is referring to, when he spots you, his eyes light up. You two lock eyes and it's like the world falls away for a moment as you take each other in. He noticed you had straightened your hair differently, training a soft curl at the end of your hair, framing your face perfectly.

He's on his feet in seconds, making his way across the room to close what felt like a ravine between you. Mumbling a soft hey while engulfing you in a hug, it felt like coming home after a horrible day. His arms squeezing you softly as he tucks his head into your shoulder. You hug him back, closing your eyes as you both linger in the hug for a moment.

You don't realize that it's been long until Max is next to you, he clears his throat loudly, startling you guys apart. He smiles, greeting you with a brief hug that has Lando sending him a slight glare. You failed to notice the brunette pinching his friend's side afterwards, max letting out a small whine.

You told Lando how much he missed school, he shrugged it off with a laugh, you both knew he had given up on completing school. Joking that you were getting the degree for both of them. The three of you had always been close, going through schooling together since you were young. Though Max knew there was a bond between you and Lando that he would never be able to fully understand.

You two understood each other without even having to speak, if Lando was upset with a race, Max often would text you as they drove home, you’d be waiting for them on the porch with snacks and a movie. Lando falling into your embrace before you settled on your own end of the couch, one of his favorite films playing on the tv.

If Max looked over to you two, he’d see Lando absentmindedly playing with your fingers, he’d see you slowly running your hand through his curls, something you knew would calm him down

You always knew lando needed comfort after a bad result, but you failed to understand that all he ever really needed was you.

“I'm gonna go grab a drink, do you want anything?” you ask softly, pointing to the small mini bar that was set up in the corner, one of the guests dramatically pouring non-alcoholic drinks as if you were in a club.

“Monster pleasee” he drawls, smiling widely as if mimicking a little kid asking for candy. You roll your eyes with a smile before turning to Max, who shows you his already half drunk redbull.

You turn away, sauntering your way to grab the beverages, lando and max watch you as you make your way. Once you're out of earshot, Max drops his smile before turning to smack lando in the arm. The boy yelps in pain, grabbing his arm with an unamused look on his face

“Oww!” Lando groans as Maxs face stays serious.

“Why haven't you told her” he asked, leaving no room for bullshit. Lando and you had been dancing around the idea of a relationship for years, and he was tired of it. He was tired of seeing his two best friends hopelessly in love with each other and choosing to ignore it.

“It's just not the right time,” Lando argues, his voice small. He tried so many times to tell you, to blurt his feelings out like a case of word vomit, to just scream i love you in your face. But every time, the words died in his throat at the possibility of you not returning his feelings.

“Bullshit.” max counters “you two have been all heart eyes since we were what? twelve? I don't care whatever story you’ve run in your head, she loves you Lando and you both need to open your eyes and see it” he commands, sending a blow straight to Landos heart as he exhales with a sigh, his gaze fixed on you chatting with the boy handing out drinks.

“What if it doesn't work out? I'm never here anymore max, how is that fair to her?” Lando says, a sense of longing evident in his eyes while he looks at you.

Max’s offense crumbles slightly, but he didn't let up “she loves you enough to fight for it. She just needs to know you're willing to fight for it too.” he offers, you make your return, holding two cans of monster, the two boys staring slightly. Like they had just been caught doing something they shouldn't. You frown slightly, your hand rising to cover your face.

“Do I have something on my face?” you ask worried, your hand rubbing along your features as you search frantically. Lando chuckles, lightly grabbing your wrists to halt your movements

“No no,-” he breathes through a laugh, his touch sending sparks up your forearms “you look beautiful” he said lowly, like it was only for you to hear.

You exhale deeply with a small laugh, sending him a soft, genuine smile that had Lando seeing double.

This boy was done for.

–

The atmosphere had shifted since you arrived, the party was now in full swing as bodies filled the house, the base of the song vibrating underneath the floor. You and Lando were standing in a corner, your conversation light as you both nursed your drinks.

Lando was explaining the new video game he and max had started playing when he was– quite rudely– interrupted by a boy approaching you, it was the same boy from the drink bar, whose name you learned was james

“hi y/n, i just wanted to say that i enjoyed our conversation earlier. It's always a pleasure chatting with you” he smiles, one of those smiles that has a cheshire cat behind it, one that makes you slightly stiff next to lando. James didn't acknowledge landos presence, acting as if you were standing next to a plant pot.

“Oh, thank you james.” you say, noticing lando’s eyes have turned to the black and neon can in his hand, fiddling with the pull tab. He's trying not to listen, but the way you shifted towards him slightly as James kept talking to you made him wary.

“–hey you wanna get outta here?” James offers.

Something in lando snaps when he sees the cocky smirk on his face.

“Woah,woah,woah, let's slow your roll here, mate.” he steps slightly in front of you, puffing his chest.

“Last time I checked I wasn't talking to you” James barks back. his voice became louder as you hid behind lando.

“she clearly doesn’t want to be talking with you” he argues, you could see Landos fists balling at his sides. the monster abandoned on the windowsill behind you. Landos neck grows red as the anger bubbles underneath his skin.

“Yk’what, why don't you let me and the lady have a conversation, yeah?” he says trying to push past Lando, his tone dripping with smugness.

Oh that had Lando seeing red.

His fist connects with James' jaw, then his nose. Sending him to the floor, you gasp as James groans, before getting up and raising his fist. He doesn't have the time to think before Lando sends another blow to his chest, knocking him down for good.

Two guests go to James, picking him up to place him on the couch as Max rushes over to you and Lando, his eyes falling to Landos hand.

“Shit mate–” he exhales, scanning the room for a way out “–c’mon let's go get some ice and fix that, you have to drive this weekend.”

He leads you upstairs to a somewhat secluded bathroom, shutting the door as Lando sits on the sink, the pain from his hand evident in his movements.

You haven't spoken since the fight, slightly shaken up from watching your best friend almost did beat the living daylights out of someone. You didn't want to think about what could've happened if James was able to land his own punches.

You press toilet paper to his bleeding knuckles, and Lando hisses from the pain of you pressing on the inflamed flesh. Dropping his head onto your shoulder as max ruffles through the cabinet.

“score!” he exclaims, holding up a bright red first aid kit. He pulls out the alcohol wipes and hands them off to you.

“m’sorry, this is gonna hurt” you say quietly before you clean the wounds, lando squeezes his eyes shut at the sting, his uninjured hand finds your waist, using it as a lifeline.

Once the wounds are clean you begin to wrap his hand, your touch light as max hands you gauze, but nothing to secure it with.

“Max, I need tape or something–” you mumble, focused on the task at hand. Lando watches as your tongue pokes out of your mouth while your eyes –which he's just noticing are slightly glossed over– are focused on carefully covering the wounds.

Once Max makes his way to find you tape, you and Lando are left in silence, spare from the muffled sound of music still coming from downstairs. You were mumbling soft swears as the gauze would slip in your hold.

“um- i'm really sorry–” lando breaks the silence, you look to him but he won't meet your eyes, “–i didn't like where he was going with that, but if you–uh..wanted him though, i understand” he says low, his eyes fixed on his lap while you look at him slightly shell shocked.

You scoff, almost like a laugh “you’re an idiot” he looks up, green eyes pouring into yours, hyper aware of the hold you had on his hand and his on your hip.

“Wh-what?” he breathes, confused. You send him a small are you stupid? look before saying what you’ve been trying to build the courage to say for years.

“I don't want him, god did you see his greasy hair?-” you roll your eyes, lando chuckles softly before you continue “i want you, you muppet”

Lando froze, he stared at you with nothing but admiration, you stood in front of him with a smile on your face, he swore he could’ve died right there. He exhaled deeply as a smile grew wide on his face, reaching both ears as he pulled you closer.

“Thank god because i'm not sure what i would've done if you didn't” he whispers, his eyes flicking to your lips, tilting his head down slightly. You leaned in slightly, his breath fanning across your face before he locked his lips onto yours.

The kiss was slow, but hard, like the crescendo of a musical piece. Years of longing being poured into it, your lips slotting together perfectly. Moving in sync as your free hand cups his jaw. He pulls you closer by his hold on your waist, humming slightly when you bite his bottom lip.

The world seemed to have faded away as he deepened the kiss. His tongue swiping across your bottom lip, asking for access you happily granted. You kissed him until you were breathless, smiling against each other's lips, you swore you could see sparkles in landos eyes.

“ten year old me is so happy right now” he mumbled against your lips, smiling so wide as you giggled. You kissed him again, softer this time, drinking in the kiss that you had dreamt about for years.

You kissed him multiple times in that bathroom, the pain in his hand forgotten as his focus was solely on you.

That was, until the doorknob jingled before Max opened the door, holding tape and a bag of ice. You step back quickly as Max halts his movement, it didn't take an idiot to put two and two together. Your puffy lips, landos slightly messy hair, and his poorly wrapped hand that had been perfectly wrapped when he left moments ago.

All he did was smile, before handing lando the ice to hold to his hand. He hands you the tape before moving back to the door, lingering in it before he leaves.

“I am so, so, fucking happy for you both.” is all he says before shutting the door, leaving you alone once again.

You turned to each other slowly, staring for a moment before you broke out into giggles. Once you both quiet down, you rewrap his hand, maybe stealing a kiss or two (or three) while you work, making up for all the time you could’ve been kissing him over the years.

Lando watched you lovingly, thinking to the future. Yes he was scared, he was scared of what this meant with you in school and him racing. But he could see that you wanted this, you wanted him. if he had to die fighting to make you two work, he was gonna sure as hell try.

Nineteen - through the storm

The crisp autumn air turned your nose red as you walked through the streets of London towards Max and his girlfriend, Pietras’ flat. It was Saturday afternoon and Lando was in Italy, it was Lando’s first year in F1, you two had been dating for two years now, and had your own flat in London you called home.

Every race weekend, it became a tradition for you to watch qualifying and the race with Max and Pietra. Ordering pizza while you shout at the tv against anyone who dares to overtake your boyfriend.

Opening the door you waltz in, announcing your arrival before shrugging your shoes off, placing your coat and bag in the mudroom. Your sock clad feet pad across the floor into the living room where Max had set up the broadcast.

“How's he doing?” you ask, grabbing a blanket and snuggling into the couch. “He's doin’ fine but I'm not sure we're getting out of Q2” he answers, a sigh escaping his lips as you frown. Lando had told you the struggles he's been having recently with the car, not being able to find that balance he needs.

The media knew it too, it felt like every time you checked your phone, someone had something horrible to say about the man you loved. You knew it was getting to him despite the brave face he put on.

Your boyfriend was the type of person who wanted everyone to love him, the amount of scrutiny was eating at him while all he did was try his best in the car he was given.

It wasn't his fault the car he was given was a tractor.

You watched anxiously as the timer ticked down, a minute left in Q2. Lando was setting his final lap, nibbling on your fingernails as he rounded the final sector, crossing the line to land in P14. his teammate Carlos sainz, landing in P7.

You deflate, knowing lando wouldn’t be happy with himself, you knew him too well. After years of watching him in F3 and F2, you know what was running through his head and it killed you that you couldn’t be there with him.

When he was home earlier in the month he told you one night how the one thing that scared him was people thinking he didn’t deserve his seat, this result certainly didn't help him with his self doubt.

“He's going to be so upset” you mumble, turning your ringer on while you wait for his call. Another small tradition you had was if you weren't in attendance, the minute he had a moment alone, he was on the phone with you.

Max nods silently, Pietra sighing as she makes her way to the kitchen to order pizza for you all, silence stretching throughout the apartment as you watch the final moments of qualifying.

As the commentators congratulated the pole sitter, raving on about the final laps that had been revolutionary all you could think about was Lando and how he was beating himself up over this.

You could see the tweets now, the hate, the scrutiny that was going to flood your socials the second you looked, just as you went to pick up your phone, it vibrated from lando calling you, the goofy smile of his contact photo smiling back at you as you answered the call.

“heyy baby!” you say, walking into the guest room for some privacy, sitting down on the foot of the bed. The line was quiet for a moment before Lando responded with a soft “hey” his voice wobbled as he spoke.

“You drove really well lando.. don't beat yourself up over one bad quali” you say softly, keeping your tone light. Soft sniffles came from Landos end of the line, your heart squeezes as you hear him cry softly. Lando wasn’t a crier, so when he did, you knew he was close to his breaking point.

“I can't do this anymore,” he sniffles. “I don't even want to know what they're saying right now.” he cries. You listen to his broken sobs as tears escape your own eyes. You hated being so far away from him while he was hurting like this, he was alone and vulnerable and that made you want to scream. Wishing you could crawl through the phone and get to him.

You debated telling his trainer, getting someone else in the room with him to make sure he was safe, but you knew he needed to let it out first. You’d tell Jon later, right now you needed to be there for lando.

Landos breathing starts to become ragged as his sentences come out in short breaths, you hear the panic attack coming before it fully hits him, his voice was shaky as it grew quieter. His words dying in his throat before he could say them, you could hear his breathing becoming more frantic.

“Lan, baby i need you to breathe for me” He was sending himself deeper into a panic and it only worried you more. You felt useless just listening while he struggled to find a breath.

“I ca- i cant” he chokes out, his sobs echoing through the phone as you begin to frantically text Jon. Your fingers shaking as you message the man, tears flowing down your face.

You: 911!

You: get to landdo now he's habvin a panic attack on the phone wit me

You: please jon im panicjking myself listning to him

Jon: On it.

You keep assuring him through the phone, trying to say something– anything that will calm him down. Telling him to unzip his race suit, asking him what he can smell, see, hear, or taste. None of it worked, the boy was breaking down in your ears and you felt helpless while waiting for Jon to find him.

You hear the door open on the other end, the phone falls to the floor as the murmurs of Jons voice filter down the phone. You don't hear much for a few moments, taking the time to compose yourself, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your landos hoodie.

“hey y/n, he's all good now, i'll have you call him back in a bit. Are you okay?” Jons voice crackles through the phone after a while, you exhale a sigh of relief, clutching a hand to your chest.

“Yeah… sounds good, thank you jon.” you say softly, hanging up the call.

You splash some water on your face before returning to max and pietra. The two noticed something was off with you immediately.

“You okay? How is he?” Max asks slowly, you didn't say anything. He could tell something was wrong when tears flooded your eyes. Closing the distance, he pulls you into a hug as a sob escapes your lips, you clutch onto him while you cry. Tears pour down your face as you explain what just happened, Max listens with sympathy written all over his face.

Hes silent for a moment, before an idea pops into his head “Let's get you to italy.” he says, determination in his voice as he grabs his phone, immediately googling flights.

“what- but i don't have anything packed- what if there's no flights” you ramble, slightly shocked he was so set on this idea, he shakes his head, finalized in his decision that you needed to get on a flight as soon as possible and he didn't care how.

“Go home and pack, you don't need much it's only a night- SCORE” he turns the phone around, showing you a flight to Italy “leaves in four hours, if we hurry.. we can get you there” he says. You two lock eyes, a new sense of determination blooming inside you. You needed to be there for Lando, and you were going to get there.

It all happened so fast, one minute you were packing clothes into a duffle bag, and now you had landed in Italy, the flight was quick, two hours from London to Milan. You sat in the cab, the streetlights fading by as you made your way to landos hotel.

The hotel was beautiful, wishing you could've come on better circumstances, thinking back to all the times you and Lando would be talking late at night, hushed whispers about what it was going to be like once he reached F1, all the places you’d go together.

You never expected what reality would end up being.

You stood in front of landos hotel room, Jon was standing next to you. Since the phone call, you had asked Jon to stay with lando. Explaining to him why incase of an emergency, you wouldn't be available for lando. He immediately agreed and also offered to walk you up to the room upon your arrival.

Once the door opened, and you saw him. His eyes looked drained, his hair was messy from him running his hands through it. When he locked eyes with you, they widened so big they could’ve popped out of their sockets.

He stared at you for a moment, trying to decipher whether or not you were really here, actually in front of him at his hotel in Monza. Once he felt you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace, it hit him.

It hit him hard.

“Oh my god” he breathed as he melted into your arms, his emotions bubbling over again as tears escaped his eyes. He had never felt so relieved to be in your arms, not since that moment in a bathroom years ago, it was like you were an angel sent straight for him.

He pulled away to get a good look at you, you were wiping his cheeks softly. He still couldn't believe you flew to him.

“Are you actually here, or am I dreaming?” he asks, a wet chuckle escapes you both as you realize you're also crying.

“Im here, i'm real” you smile, pulling him back into a hug as you smooth the hair on the back of his neck. “I couldn’t stay in London when you were here in this state. It would’ve killed me.” you sniffled. His hands wrap around you, holding on like if he’d let go, you'd disappear, and he'd wake up from this nightmare with you still in london.

He pulled back, placing a soft kiss to your lips before mumbling many “i love yous” into your mouth as you kissed him back, soft and slow. Forgetting about Jon standing a few feet away from you two. He turns away slightly, letting you have your moment.

You pull away echoing a soft “sorry” to Jon who just smiles softly, shaking his head in dismissal as Lando wraps his arms around your waist, activating his clingy-ness.

You say goodnight to Jon as you and Lando head into bed, the events of the day taking their effect. Lando immediately wraps his arms around your waist, nuzzling his face into your shoulder, placing soft kisses on the exposed skin before resting his head on your chest.

“Thank you, for understanding me more than I do myself” he mumbles sleepily, his breaths even out as he finally looks at peace with his mind. Your smile is warm as you place a light kiss to his forehead before finally resting your eyes, having your boy in your arms.

And when you wake up to a text message from Jon, attached is a video of you and landos reunion he recorded secretly, you smile, cropping the video properly to post on your instagram story.

Posted is a small 10 second clip of Lando realizing you were standing in front of him, then showing the hug you two shared. Rocking back and forth as intelligible murmurs are exchanged between you two.

captioned for you, anywhere, anytime.

Twenty two - a handprint on her heart

The sun was shining down on your face as you perched yourself on a lounge chair on the exquisite yacht you get to call home for the summer break. You sported a bright orange bikini as you read your book while you listened to the waves below you.

It was peaceful, until you heard the stomps of two smaller people, followed by the stomps of a bigger person. You looked to the door to see Mila and Athena squealing as they ran around the deck, followed by none other than your boyfriend, who was chasing them, pretending he was a sea monster.

“Look! There's auntie, she’ll save us," Mila shouts as the two girls make a beeline for you. You quickly place your book down so the girls can climb on top of you, hiding from their overly enthusiastic uncle.

“Ohh auntie can't save you now! She's on my side” he says playfully while you begin to tighten your grip around the girls, not strong enough to hurt them, but tight enough to where they would struggle to break free.

The girls giggle as Lando ‘rounds the couch, the girls wiggling in your arms, sounding cries of betrayal while you laugh at the trio's antics. He makes it to your pile of laughter and starts tickling the two girls until they are breathless.

Once he ceases the tickles attack, you let the girls free. They hop to the ground, their baby feet bouncing off the deck as they make their escape from the tickle monster, but to you he's just lando.

Lando lets out a sigh as he sets himself down on the couch next to you, placing his arms around your shoulder. You had been on this yacht for a week and he had already worked up a tan, he looked divine, the sun hitting his face perfectly as he turned to look at you before placing a kiss on your temple.

“y’know, it’ll be nice when we have our own munchkins running around a yacht one day” he says, far too casually, as his hand traces your shoulder. You both knew you wanted kids, but also knew being twenty two, in the height of landos career was not the right time for either of you to even think about creating your own bundle of love.

Before you could respond to him, Max waltz’s his way onto the deck, sunglasses propped on his face as he spots you two. “Don't you two look cozy” he jokes, acting like you two haven't been head over heels for each other since you were small. It was a running joke for years, Max loves to tease you two about anything and everything.

Today was no different

“oi! LN,” he says, lightly smacking landos sunburnt shoulder, causing the brunette to wince. “When are you proposing, I've got bets placed man!” he says with a faux serious tone.

You giggle at him, you had discussed this before, you had an list of milestones that you and lando wanted to complete in a specific order

Championship

Marriage

Kids

“You act like we haven’t basically been married for years max” you say, playfulness evident in your tone as Lando pulls you closer by the shoulder. Lando knew Max was just joking, but deep down part of him did want to forgo the list years ago and just make you his wife.

He's known since before you were officially dating that he’d marry you, it was obvious to him, you were the only option. The only person he saw his future with, the woman he goes home to, the mother of his children, you checked all the boxes of perfection and he was anxious to put a rock on your finger to solidify it for eternity. Devoting himself to you completely.

Lando observes as you and Max move onto a different topic, he observes every detail about you, the way your nose crinkles when you smile, how your freckles pop when you spend more time in the sun, the way you always manage to speak with a heartwarming smile etched onto your face. It made him dizzy the way he knew you better than he knew himself. You were his everything, there is no lando without you.

“Lan baby, you with us?” you ask, noticing he spaced out slightly. Nodding he smiles, placing a kiss on your hand, interlaced with his.

“Yeah, just thinkin’” he says simply, thinking for a moment before he taps your shoulder,

“Wanna go for a walk?”

–

You walked down the side of the boat, your fingers interlocked as the sun casted a golden light on your skin. Lando rubbed his thumb over your knuckles as you walked to the edge of the boat, overseeing the mediterranean behind you.

Lando is quiet for a moment, his eyes following the horizon while he thinks. You can see in his eyes he's piecing his sentencing together but struggling– after a while, he speaks up.

“Max got me thinking,” he pauses, taking a deep breath “I wanna change the list.”

Your heart stops, looking up at him to find anything on his face that says he's joking, you meet his eyes already looking at you,

“Are you serious?”

He chuckles, running a nervous hand through his hair, “I've never been more serious about anything in my life baby,” you feel tears welling up in your waterline. “I've known my whole life that I wanted to marry you, I don't want to let a championship decide when.”

He brings a hand up to cup your cheek, your bottom lip trembling while he continues.

“You're it for me baby, I can’t remember what my life was like without you in it and I don't want to have to learn. You know me better than I know myself, I am hopelessly in love with you and there's nothing that will ever change that,” you were full on crying now, he takes a moment to collect his thoughts,

“–loving you is my greatest achievement, no championship could ever come close to how i feel about you,” Lando feels a lump form in his throat as he tries to finish his mini speech before he becomes emotional.

“Let's get married”

You cry softly before you cry out a yes and Lando feels a surge of love flow through him.

“Yeah?” he smiles so wide as you nod, tears freely flowing down both your faces as he pulls you into an earth shattering kiss.

He kisses you like you’re his last breath of fresh air— soft and sensual, holding your face with such gentle care like you’d break if he let go.

You pull away for air, giggling into each other's lips, stealing more kisses as the sun begins to set over the sea. The air felt warmer as you kissed your fiancè, you kissed him again, and again, you kissed him so many times you forgot where you were.

That was until Lando pulled away sharply with a gasp. “Wait here” he mumbles before he takes off running back into the yacht, you take a seat while you wait for him to return, slightly confused to where he ran off to.

Moments later he comes back, hands held behind his back as he makes his way over to you, a cheeky smile spread across his tanned face.

“I'm sorry, your actual ring is at home.” you choose to ignore that fact for the time being. “But I do have this,” he chuckles as he pulls a small ring pop from behind his back.

You laugh at the small candy as he opens it, placing it on your left ring finger, placing another kiss to your lips, you throw yourself into his arms, returning the kiss in full force.

“It's perfect, thank you.” you mumble into his mouth.

He rests his forehead against yours, his green eyes pouring into yours— a window to his soul showing nothing but love for you as he pulls you closer, his smile giddy. “We're getting married!!” he exclaims, you both giggle as you revel in being newly engaged.

You think back to when you were kids, before the fancy cars and extravagant races, you loved him before he made a name for himself, before the outside voices. When it was just you two on a karting track, nobody watching to see where he goes next.

you will continue to love him in the highs and lows of his career, as he shows the world what he's truly made of. You will forever be there, holding his hand, being his first phone call. Continuing to support him throughout it all, believing in his dreams as they’ve now become yours.

You will love him when it's over, when it's just you two in the quiet mornings, for when you have nowhere to be. When you're old and grey living in the countryside in London, hand in hand on the porch side of your family home, grandkids running around in the yard.

Like a handprint over your heart, Lando had plastered himself over every inch of your existence. His love hidden in plain sight of places you’ve yet to even realize. you loved this boy with every fiber of your being, and you would love him in every universe, in every past life and through the next.

You will love him anywhere, anytime.

i hope u enjoyed, thank u so much for reading <3

#lando norris fanfic #ln4 #formula 1 #lando x reader #f1 fanfic #lando norris #f1 x reader #lando fluff #lando norris fic #lando norris fluff #lando imagine #lando norris imagine

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lanf1an · 2 months ago

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DREAMS lando norris pt.1 When your childhood bestfriend Flo had convinced you to get the fashion design job at her brother's company Quadrant, it finally paid off when Louis Vuitton was announced as the new sponsor for F1.

pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6 wordcount: 1378

Flo's voice filled the room as she scrolled through her phone, her excitement palpable.

"I'm telling you, this is perfect for you," Flo said, thrusting her phone in your direction.

You squinted at the screen, trying to make sense of the email she was showing you. "A job at Quadrant? Flo, I’m studying fashion design, not... whatever that is."

Flo looked up, her brows furrowed as if you’d just said something ridiculous. "What do you mean? It can be. Look at Tommy Hilfiger. Or Lewis Hamilton—his fashion work, hosting the Met Gala, working with big brands. F1’s bigger than you think, and it’s not just about cars."

"Haha, Flo, what are you talking about?" you said, shaking your head at the idea. "F1 is not really the place I want to be for my fashion stuff."

You paused, realizing you hadn’t really thought about it like that before. You’d never paid much attention to Formula 1, aside from the occasional updates Flo gave you about Lando. It had been years since you'd spent any real time with him. As kids, you'd catch fleeting glimpses of each other whenever he wasn’t off karting or, later, racing. But you knew Lewis Hamilton. He had enormous influence. He’d collaborated with brands you admired and pushed boundaries in the fashion world.

"Maybe not," Flo said, leaning forward with a knowing grin. "But there could be great opportunities"

"And trust me, Quadrant desperately needs someone like you. You’ve seen their merch, right? It’s..." She continued.

"Basic?" you offered, arching an eyebrow, Flo had already showed you the designs before in an attempt for you to improve them.

"Exactly! They’re looking for someone to revamp their designs. You’re always talking about how things could be better.''

You sipped your coffee, considering her words. It wasn’t your dream job, but the thought of improving a brand and the opportunities that came with it was oddly tempting.

"Fine," you said, setting your mug down. "I’ll think about it."

Flo grinned like she'd won the lottery. "You’ll kill it. Trust me."

The buzz around Quadrant’s new merch started slowly but picked up pace when a few photos of Lando wearing your designs at the paddock made their way online. Suddenly, it wasn’t just fans buying hoodies and tees, people in the fashion and sports world were taking notice, and journalists started to make comparisons you weren’t sure anyone expected.

“Is Lando Norris the next Lewis Hamilton?” one article headline read.

Another went deeper: “From driver to brand icon: How Lando Norris and Quadrant are reshaping athlete influence.”

It had been surreal to watch the shift, you had worked hard. Max had been supportive from the start, seeing the vision. Keegan had actually become a reliable creative partner, having similar styles and taste. Lando had been the same as when you were kids, you had barely seen him, too busy racing, handling his CEO duties from afar.

And now, after months of hard work, it was all leading to something bigger.

The first time at the paddock was overwhelming. The heat, the constant movement, the blur of media, mechanics, and drivers navigating their way through the chaos—it was a world you still didn’t quite belong to. Even though it did bid a uncanny resemblance to the chaos of the fashion world, which intrigued you.

You watched as the photographers snapped pictures of Lando and the team in their latest Quadrant pieces. The collection had taken months to finalize, and the response had been overwhelming—more press than usual, more attention, more recognition.

“You’re the one behind all this, aren’t you?”

You turned at the voice, surprised to find yourself face to face with Lewis Hamilton. He was dressed effortlessly, a silk LV shirt under an unbuttoned suit vest, sunglasses perched on his nose.

You blinked. “I—uh. Sorry?”

Lewis smiled knowingly. “The Quadrant collection. It’s you.”

You hesitated. “I mean… it’s a team effort.”

“Sure,” he said, his grin widening. “But I know talent when I see it.”

Her stomach flipped. Compliments were one thing, but this—coming from him—felt different.

“I’ve been following your work,” Lewis continued, slipping his hands into his pockets. “You’ve got a fresh perspective. Louis Vuitton is partnering with F1. They want to bring in new talent, I tipped you.” Your breath caught. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

You stared at him, waiting for the catch, but there wasn’t one. He was just… offering this. Just like that.

“I—” You glanced over at the Quadrant shoot, where Lando was laughing with the guys, completely unaware of the conversation happening across the paddock. “Thank you so much.”

Lewis smiled. “You’ll be hearing from them soon. Excited to work together.”

And with that, he was gone, disappearing into the paddock like he hadn’t just cracked your entire world open in a two-minute conversation. Flo had turned to be right after all.

Louis Vuitton had officially announced their F1 partnership, and with it, their campaign featuring a select group of drivers. The second she saw Lando’s name on the list, you knew there was no avoiding it. You hadn’t expected it, even though it made sense after Quadrant’s succes and having already worked together. Still, you hadn’t expected to be working with him again, especially not like this. He hadn't shown too much emotion when you left Quadrant, but you knew he wasn't happy about it.

Now, standing in the Louis Vuitton studio, flipping through the fitting schedule, you could feel his glare when the door opened before looking up.

"From Quadrant to Louis V," Lando mused, his voice light but edged with something unreadable. "Look at us."

You finally glanced up. He walked around inspecting the room, sunglasses perched on his head, fingers brushing against the fabric of a tailored jacket. His expression was casual, like he wasn’t really thinking about what he’d just said. Like it was just an observation.

You gave a small shrug. "Who would've thought."

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he turned toward the fitting area. "Thought you could get rid of me, huh?"

“Alright, first look,” you said, flipping through your notes without looking up.

Lando sighed dramatically. “Do I really need to try all of these on?”

You shot him a look. “Unless you suddenly developed a sense of style overnight, yes.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, grabbing the set from the rack.

You turned you back as he changed, focusing on adjusting the pins on one of the outfits. It wasn’t the first time you’d been in a fitting with Lando, but this was different. The Louis Vuitton studio was quieter than Quadrant HQ, the lighting softer, there was no Max, no Keegan, no distractions.

��Okay,” Lando said, stepping forward. “What do you think?”

You turned—and fuck.

The suit fit him unfairly well. The sharp tailoring, the way the fabric moved with him—it was annoyingly perfect. Which meant you had done a great job.

You forced yourself to be professional, stepping closer to fix his collar. “Hold still.”

Lando stayed quiet as you smoothed the lapels, fingers brushing against his chest. The silence felt thick, aware of how close you were.

“Looks good,” you said, voice even. “But the pants need adjusting.”

You knelt down, reaching for the hem.

You could feel his eyes on you as you adjusted the fabric, fingers skimming his ankle, making sure the length was right. You refused to look up, but you could hear him breathe in, then exhale slowly.

“Comfortable down there?” he asked, voice casual, but you could hear his smirk.

You rolled your eyes, unable for him to see. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Lando huffed out a laugh, but when you did glance up—just for a second—his jaw was tight. Like he was the one struggling.

You stood, smoothing out the jacket. “Alright,” you said, stepping back, regaining distance. “I think we’re done here.”

Lando tilted his head. “You sure? Thought you liked bossing me around now.”

You smirked. “If I really wanted to boss you around, Lando, you’d know it.”

He blinked, caught off guard for just a second.

Then he grinned. “Noted.”

WN: new storyyyy wooooop, literally already had this fashion job at quadrant in my drafts and then the LV partnership was announced i had to implement that and post it

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norrisradio · 2 days ago

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HALFWAY HOME

LINE BY LINE ᝰ.ᐟ "I guess I was running from something / I was running back to you" - 5 Seconds of Summer, Outer Space / Carry On

ᝰ PAIRING: lando norris x reader | ᝰ WC: 1.9K ᝰ GENRE: a study on something to everything, fluff, angst, some suggestive scenes ᝰ INCOMING RADIO: god i miss u 5sos. i could fill a library with the number of situationship!lando ideas i have but i digress ꨄ requested by anon !

send me an ask for my line by line event.ᐟ

The first time Lando kissed you, it tasted like he was trying to forget something.

It was Monaco, of course. Everything always began there—the city of sunlight and shadows, champagne-slick smiles, and nights that never seemed to end until they bled into morning. You weren’t supposed to meet him. You weren’t supposed to stay. And yet, you did both.

You met on someone else's yacht. Someone with too much money and not enough personality. You were there for a reason you couldn’t remember now—something about a friend of a friend and needing a break from your own life. He was leaning over the rail, drink in hand, face tilted toward the wind like he was hoping it would carry him away. When he turned and saw you watching, he smiled like he’d been waiting for you.

And maybe, in a way, he had.

That first night was laughter and fingertips brushing in the dark, the thrill of someone seeing you in a place where you didn't belong. He looked at you like the world wasn’t loud for once. You let him.

It was easy at first. That’s the dangerous part.

It was late-night texts that buzzed against your thigh like a secret.

You up?

Come over.

And you did. Even when you knew better. Even when you told yourself this was the last time, that you wouldn’t fall back into the same gravity.

His hotel room always felt like a suspended world—half-lit, half-dream, the kind of place where time slipped between your fingers and consequences didn’t exist. He'd answer the door in joggers slung too low on his hips, hair tousled like he hadn’t really slept since you last saw him, a ghost of a grin playing on his lips like he already knew you weren’t going to say no.

You never said no.

There were no pleasantries, not really. Just the heat of his mouth on yours before the door even clicked shut, your back pressed to cool walls or warm sheets, hands in each other’s clothes like you’d both been starving. It was teeth grazing skin, fingers threaded through hair, the sharp sting of need wrapped in laughter and breathless curses.

You’d lie tangled in the aftermath—his hand tracing idle patterns along your spine, your leg thrown over his like it belonged there. Sometimes he’d whisper things in the dark, half-jokes, half-truths.

You drive me insane.

This was a bad idea.

Stay.

And you always did, curled into him like it meant something.

For a while, it was easier to pretend that it didn’t.

He told you things he didn’t tell anyone else—like how sometimes he felt like he was driving in circles, chasing something he couldn’t name. And you told him things you’d buried years ago, things you didn’t even remember knowing about yourself.

But still, you never called it love. Not then.

Lando was the kind of boy who said I miss you without meaning I need you, and you were the kind of person who pretended that didn’t hurt. You called what you had a thing. A situationship. Like naming it would make it easier to lose.

You started keeping track of the cities like notches on a belt—Barcelona, Montreal, Budapest. He’d fly you out, and you’d come running, telling yourself each time that this would be the last. But it never was. Not when his hand fit so perfectly at the small of your back, or when he said your name like it meant home.

There were silences, too. Days where he disappeared into the noise of the world he belonged to. You watched him on your screen, smiling that familiar smile, your name buried somewhere between the lines. You’d tell yourself not to care. You never listened.

You broke it off on FaceTime, halfway through the season.

He’d just finished a press day—still in his fire suit, hair a mess, jaw flexing the way it always did when he was tired but wired, running on adrenaline and caffeine and whatever else kept him going. You were curled up on your couch, blanket around your shoulders like armor, pretending it didn’t make you feel pathetic that you'd waited all day for him to call.

He grinned when he saw you. “You look cute.”

You didn’t smile back. “Don’t.”

“What?” He tilted his head, playful. “I’m not allowed to compliment you now?”

“Lando.”

His smirk faltered. Just a little. “Okay… what’s up?”

You stared at the little box of his face on your screen. Thought about all the nights you'd spent falling asleep to the sound of his voice, all the mornings you woke up alone. Thought about what it felt like to watch him post and perform and glow for everyone but you.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

He blinked. “What?”

“I’m breaking up with you.”

“But we’re not together, baby,” he said, like this was some joke, like maybe you were just feeling a little too much and he could charm you out of it.

You exhaled, slow and quiet. “Exactly.”

There was a beat of silence, long enough for your stomach to twist.

He laughed. A hollow sound. “So you’re breaking up with me… from something that doesn’t exist.”

“I know it doesn’t.” You folded your arms tighter. “That’s the fucking problem.”

He didn’t say anything. Just stared at you like he was trying to figure out whether this was real or not, like maybe if he said nothing, you’d take it all back.

You didn’t.

“I need space,” you told him. “I need to feel like I matter to someone who doesn’t just want me when it’s dark and convenient.”

Still nothing.

You ended the call before he could hang up first.

He didn’t call for three weeks.

You didn’t breathe for four.

And then—Brazil.

The track was slick with rain, the paddock quiet except for the hushed shuffle of crew and cold wind. You weren’t even supposed to be there. You’d come with a friend, told yourself it didn’t matter if you saw him.

But when he saw you, something broke open in his face.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just walked up, wrapped his arms around you like you hadn’t been gone at all. You stiffened, then melted. Because you always did.

“I thought you hated me,” he murmured, voice low against your temple.

“I did,” you said. “I still might.”

He laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

You found yourself in his hotel room again, familiar and strange. He kissed you like he’d been starving. You kissed him like you were scared it would be the last time.

It wasn’t.

The next time he texted you, it wasn’t at 2 a.m.

It was a Thursday afternoon, and your phone buzzed with a quiet, cautious How’s your week been?

No winky face. No follow-up demand for a photo. Just that. Like he was knocking instead of barging in for once.

You stared at the message for a while before answering.

The shift was slow, almost unspoken—like he was trying to rebuild something without naming what had broken. He started calling at odd hours. Not just when he was lonely or half-drunk in a hotel room, but in the middle of the day while waiting at the airport, or on the drive back from the track. The conversations stretched longer. Silences didn’t feel like landmines anymore.

Sometimes he just wanted to hear your voice.

“Tell me something boring,” he said once, voice muffled through the speaker. “Like… what you had for breakfast.”

You laughed. “Lando—”

“I’m serious. I wanna hear the stupid stuff. The everyday stuff.”

So you did. You told him about your run-in with the woman who always blocked the elevator with her dog, how your coffee machine made a noise like it was possessed, how you accidentally sent a flirty email to your boss. He listened like it mattered. Like you mattered.

Then there were the cities.

He started showing up in ones he had no business being in. You’d look up from your table at a café in Rome, and there he was across the street, sunglasses pushed into his curls, grinning like he hadn’t just flown five hours on a whim. Once, he knocked on the door of your Airbnb in Copenhagen with a bag of pastries and no explanation except, “I had a free weekend.”

“You raced yesterday.”

“Yeah. And I wanted to see you today.”

You stopped questioning it. Not because it made sense—but because it started to feel like something you could believe in.

He never said what changed. You didn’t ask.

But he started saying goodnight instead of send a pic, and I miss you with a kind of softness that didn’t try to cover its teeth.

Then, one night—London, rain glossing the streets until the streetlights looked like they were floating—he knocked on your door again.

London was cold that week. The kind of cold that crept into your sleeves and settled in your bones no matter how many layers you wore. The rain hadn’t stopped in two days—it tapped against the window in a steady rhythm, soft and insistent, like it was trying to lull the city to sleep.

He hadn’t meant to stay long. He was supposed to drop by, grab the charger he left the last time, and leave. But now it was past midnight, and he was still there, cross-legged on your floor, eating crisps out of the bag with one hand and scrolling aimlessly with the other. His hoodie was damp at the cuffs, his curls flattened from the drizzle, and he looked so soft like that—disarmed, a little tired, almost real.

You sat on the couch above him, your fingers absently carding through his hair. You didn’t mean to. You just started and never stopped, and he didn’t ask you to.

The silence had stretched long and comfortable, but he broke it.

“I always felt like I was running from something.”

You paused. Your hand stilled in his hair.

He didn’t look up. Just kept staring ahead, like the truth was easier to say if he didn’t have to see your face. “Turns out I was just running back to you.”

Your breath caught.

He said it so simply, like it wasn’t everything. Like it hadn’t been gnawing at the edges of both your hearts for months.

Your fingers slipped from his hair. He finally turned his head, resting his cheek against your thigh now, eyes lifted to yours.

The rain filled the space between your heartbeats.

“This still isn’t perfect,” you said. Your voice was low, careful.

You watched the way his jaw tensed, the way he swallowed like he was bracing himself for the worst.

“I don’t want perfect,” he said.

He leaned forward just slightly, enough for his palm to find your knee, warm through the fabric of your joggers. His thumb brushed the curve of it, grounding.

“I want you.”

There was a pause—not dramatic, just true—where you realized he meant it.

All the nights he hadn’t called. All the times he held you like a secret. All the versions of him you tried to make peace with.

And still—him, here. You, here.

You didn’t answer. You just leaned down and kissed him, slow and certain, like maybe this time, it would mean everything.

And maybe, for once, it did.

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haniette · 18 hours ago

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grasping your love. // ln4

part one. || part two.

pairing | lando norris x fem!reader

genre | angst, fluff, friends to lovers, childhood best friends au, hurt-comfort

word count | 11.7k

warnings | no use of y/n, heartbreak, emotional distress, themes of regret and longing, abandonment themes, low-key manipulation themes??, use of alcohol, cursing, crying.

inspired by: sydney rose - we hug now, conan gray - memories, the kid laroi - bleed

summary: you told yourself you’d moved on. that you didn't care, and your heart had mended. but when he came back, all ruined and raw, you realized some hearts don’t forget who they were meant to beat for.

a/n: PART TWOOOOO!!!! as soon as i saw the requests for part two i started working on this, and actually, it turned out to be longer than i expected- OOPSIE but y'all.. writing this kinda broke me :,) i'm so happy that at least they got their happy ending </3 hope you'll enjoy !!

The house was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of stillness that wraps itself around you, like the silence after a storm—where everything feels too calm, too heavy with unspoken words. You could hear the soft ticking of the clock in the hallway, the distant hum of the fridge, the muffled sound of your parents’ breathing in their room down the hall.

You padded across the hallway in thick socks, dressed in your oversized sleep shirt with sleeves tugged down over your fingers. The exhaustion from the day had settled into your bones, dull and familiar. You’d brushed your teeth, put your hair up, wiped the smeared mascara from under your eyes—and still, somehow, you felt heavy.

Not even tired. Just… drained. Hollow in a quiet way. The kind of tiredness that had nothing to do with sleep, but with the ache in your chest that had been there since that night.

The night when you sat under the stars, knees drawn to your chest. When he was crouching in front of you with that lopsided smile, and made you feel like you could hope again.

The night you almost said it. The night he almost knew.

But after that night, there came the distance. Not cruel, not sharp, just drifting. Like smoke through fingers, like something slipping underwater.

And you were trying. Trying so hard to be okay with it. But god—you were exhausted.

However, it wasn’t the physical kind of exhaustion. It was something deeper, a kind of tiredness that came from the emotional weight of trying to convince yourself that everything was fine, that things were normal. But every time you opened social media and saw Lando’s name, or caught a glimpse of him in the halls at school laughing with Olivia, leaning in close, his hand in hers, her lips on his cheek—it all felt like a cruel reminder that the world had moved on, and you hadn’t been included in it. You were stuck in a loop of saddness and regret.

When you reached your bedroom door, hand resting on the knob, a strange noise came from downstairs, making you stop mid-step.

Clink.

You wanted to brush it off, taking for granted that it was just the wind, or the house creaking. But then it came again—the scrape of a drawer, the distinct sound of a cup hitting the counter, the slight clink of something being set down.

You sucked in a breath, heart suddenly pounding in your chest. Your first thought? Someone broke in.

You tiptoed out of your room, pulse quickening, each creak of the floorboards beneath you feeling like an alarm bell. The hallway was dark, save for the faint glow of the nightlight near the stairs. You could hear the rustling louder now, the sound of something being knocked over, maybe.

A breathless moment of hesitation, then you flicked the light on, your hand trembling slightly. The glow of the kitchen illuminated the open doorway.

And there, leaning against the sink, was no one other than Lando himself. A glass of water in his hand, his back hunched slightly like he’d been holding up too much weight for too long.

When his eyes set on you, he blinked a few times like he wasn’t sure if you were real or if he was dreaming you up.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. “Lando… what the hell are you doing here?” You blurted out, your voice far sharper than you intended. “It’s fucking one in the morning! You scared the shit out of me.”

He observed you, eyes bleary, and half-lidded. He didn’t seem surprised—just tired. His lips curled up slightly, almost forming a smile, but also an apology.

Your chest tightened at that sight. “You broke into my house?” You said with your voice trembling, not from fear anymore, but from confusion. Anger. Sadness. Everything at once.

He didn’t seem bothered by your accusation. Instead, he just shrugged, “The key,” Lando muttered. “Was still under the orange flower pot.”

That flower pot. The one your mom had left by the doors years ago. The one he used to hide candy under for you in middle school. The one that had, unknowingly, never switched places.

You stepped closer, the light casting his figure in sharper detail. His hair was a mess—curls flattened on one side, wild on the other, like he’d run his hands through it over and over. His shirt was wrinkled, untucked, stained slightly with something you didn’t care to identify. And his eyes—god, his eyes. Always so bright and beautiful, in that aquamarine color, but now bloodshot, tired and wrecked.

You blinked, still trying to process what was happening, what had led him to your kitchen at this hour. “Lando, what happened?” You took a step closer.

Your anger melted into something else—worry, and concern. You had never seen him like this. Drunk, disoriented. Not even the usual playful charm he wore like armor.

Your heart clenched at the sight. What happened to him?

“Lando… what’s going on? Why aren’t you with Olivia?” Saying her name left a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

But he didn’t answer. Instead, he shifted, like his knees had given out. Slowly, he slid down the cabinets until he hit the floor, back against the drawers, legs stretched out carelessly.

You panicked for a second as he looked pale, dizzy, and lost. “Lan— hey.. are you okay?” You crouched beside him instinctively, heart pounding.

Then he slumped into you without warning. His head fell to your shoulder, the warmth of his skin pressing into yours. And for a long, drawn-out moment, you just let him rest there. His breath was slow, ragged, like he had been running a marathon, like he had been fighting something for a long time.

But all of it—the tension, the pain, the confusion—had finally spilled over in this one vulnerable moment.

Lando sighed against your collarbone. “M’tired.” His hot breath tickled your skin, making you shiver at the sound of his voice.

And you stayed like that. There, on the kitchen floor. Tiles cold beneath your legs, your body stiff beside his slumped frame while letting the boy rest on your shoulder. The silence settled again, but heavier now, thick with questions you didn’t know how to ask.

His breath was slow and warm where it met your neck. You stared ahead at the fridge, heart unraveling in your chest.

This was still Lando. Your Lando.

The boy who used to throw pebbles at your window at 2 a.m. just to see if you wanted to go stargazing. The boy who once tried to braid your hair in sixth grade and ended up tying it in a knot. The boy who almost said he loved you once—and you didn’t hear it in time.

And now he was here, on your kitchen floor.

“I don’t wanna leave you.” Lando mumbled, his words barely audible, his voice thick and muffled against the fabric of your shirt.

Your breath caught in your throat. “What?”

But he didn’t repeat it. He just exhaled like he’d been holding that in for years. Like that sentence had broken out of him by accident, cracked through whatever wall he’d built around himself.

You held him there, on the cold kitchen floor, unsure of what to do with his confession. Your heart pulsed violently in your chest, because what did he mean? Did he mean tonight? Or forever?

Why wasn’t he with Olivia? Why wasn’t she the one holding him now? Why did he come here like you were still his safe place?

But you didn’t ask, not knowing how. You just sat there with him—shoulder to shoulder, breathing in the same air, memories thick in the space between you.

But the weight of his presence, of him leaning into you, of him saying those words that you didn’t know what to do with, was unbearable. And it broke something inside you. Something that you hadn’t realized was still holding on.

You closed your eyes, the tears threatening to spill again. You didn’t know what you wanted from him—or from yourself. You just held him. You held him because you couldn’t let him go. Not yet. Not when he was still here.

And you didn’t know it yet, but that moment would stay burned into you—into your soul.

Days after the kitchen night, the silence between you and Lando grew so thick you could feel it pressing against your skin. You thought maybe he’d text. Apologize. Mention what he said. Explain this whole situation.

But he didn’t.

And so, you convinced yourself that it was a mistake—drunken words said in a foggy haze. Words meant for the moment, and not especially for you.

Still, you couldn’t forget the way his head had rested on your shoulder, like he belonged there. You couldn’t unhear the slurred, soft-spoken “I don’t want to leave you.” Those six words looped in your head like a broken record.

Were they meant to be comforting? A warning? A confession?

But even worse than that was how everything returned to normal or, at least, seemed to.

You stopped bumping into him at school. He stopped showing up in the group chat.

Olivia posted more often now—the two of them posing in bookstores, going to brunch, prepping for their “future.” She seemed so perfect on his arm, so carefully curated. Their relationship was like a photo in a museum: admired by everyone, but no one really understood it.

And you—you felt like a visitor. A stranger peering into a life you used to be a part of. You didn’t go to the group hangout in the woods. You skipped the movie night that once used to be your thing. Your friends texted, called, asked where you were. But you always had an excuse: studying, babysitting your cousin, or just being tired.

Anything but the truth.

The truth was that it hurt to exist in a space where Lando no longer looked for you. Even when you did see him, it was… different. He was quieter, more distracted by being new version of him. He even laughed less than he usually would when he was around you. He didn’t hold eye contact like he used to—not the way he did when it was just you two in the corner of a room, stealing glances across dinner tables or hiding giggles behind shared inside jokes.

It was like watching a star dim slowly, day by day, losing its uniqueness.

You’d pass each other in the halls sometimes. There was a flicker in his eyes—like maybe he wanted to say something, even the smallest thing. But the moment always passed and you’d look away first, because it felt safer that way.

One afternoon, you found yourself sitting by the window, the same one you both used to lean against when you studied together. The sky outside was soft and grey, and the silence in the room felt like it was screaming at you.

You clutched your phone in your hand, screen still open on the last video you ever took together—blurry, spontaneous, just you two laughing over some dumb joke, your laughs loud and vibrant. You looked at your smile in it, and how easy it had been to smile with him. How full you had felt back then.

But then came a new notification. A tagged photo on Olivia’s Instagram.

“Couldn’t be happier to start this chapter with you. Amsterdam, here we come <3”

The picture was beautiful, in that staged kind of way. Lando kissing her cheek, his arm around her waist as she held her passport and their tickets. The luggage was behind them, and departure gate in the background.

You blinked once. Twice. Then your chest caved in.

He hadn’t told you. Again. But this time he hadn’t even said goodbye.

There had been no message, no last knock on the door, no final look.

The disbelief washed over you in waves. First it was confusion, then came the bitterness. And then that slow, aching pain—like someone had reached inside and quietly rewired your heart. And it would knock the breath out of you, because suddenly it would make sense.

“I don’t wanna leave you.”

But he did. And he was already gone, taking his future with Olivia, leaving you with nothing but the words he’d whispered to you on that kitchen floor. Words you still didn’t understand, but somehow knew were real.

────୨ৎ────

The airport was too bright.

Everything felt like it was glowing under harsh, white light—the floors, the departure signs, the rows of metal benches where people sat with neck pillows, their luggage beside them, and some even taking a nap.

Lando could hear Olivia's voice next to him, cheerful and animated, chatting with her mum as they went over last-minute plans. He smiled, or at least tried to, but it didn’t feel right on his face. It didn’t stick.

He stood a little outside of it all—just off to the side of the check-in area, surrounded by people but entirely elsewhere. His eyes kept drifting toward the entrance doors. Every few seconds, his gaze flicked there—searching.

It had been weeks since that night. The kitchen. The water. Your shoulder. The words he wasn’t supposed to say out loud.

You hadn’t texted him since. Not even once. He had tried writing a couple of short, awkward messages but he always changed his mind, immediately deleting them.

And yet, some stupid, desperate part of him believed you’d still come.

Maybe you’d rush in, sleeves of your favourite hoodie pulled up your arms, out of breath, pretending you just happened to be nearby. Maybe you’d roll your eyes and mutter something like “figured you’d want a dramatic send-off, loser.”

He would’ve smiled, laughed even. He would’ve known what you meant. So he kept looking. Every flash of the color which your favourite hoodie had. Every girl which walked a little too fast through the crowd. His stomach turned every time he thought—that might be you.

But it never was.

“Boarding group A, you’re now welcome at gate 27.”

The announcement echoed through the terminal. Olivia squeezed his hand, excited, practically buzzing with it. “Ready?” She asked, sending him a warm smile. Lando nodded, but his eyes were still locked on the doors. Still waiting, hoping, hurting.

Olivia tugged his hand gently, and he looked one last time, but you weren’t there. It felt like something inside his chest folded in on itself.

────୨ৎ────

The house was quiet. Your parents were already gone for the day, hanging out with their friends which came to your city. The sun was filtering in through the curtains, soft and golden.

You were still in bed. Blankets pulled up to your chin, phone in your hand, screen dark. You hadn’t looked at his Instagram story. Not yet. Seeing Olivia’s post was enough for you.

You didn’t want to see the gate, again. The luggage. Olivia’s arm looped through his. You didn’t want confirmation that this was real. That he was really leaving. That he was no longer just not here, but truly, physically and emotionally gone.

Your chest ached with the weight of everything unsaid. And now you laid in your bed, curled under your blanket, breathing through the quiet kind of grief that doesn’t come with sobs or screams—just this low, constant ache in your chest. Like your ribs were too tight. Like your heart was trying to remember how to exist without him.

You stared at the ceiling—eyes wide, dry. You weren’t crying, you just felt… hollow.

Somewhere in a crowded airport, Lando was still looking for you in a sea of people. But now it was too late.

He had left. And you had let him.

────୨ৎ────

a few months later

The sky hadn’t been blue in weeks. Months.

Every day carried a quiet grayness, like the world had slipped into a version of itself that was somehow dimmer—dull and breathless. The leaves had started to curl at the edges, the sun set earlier now, and everything seemed to echo more, especially the silence in your chest.

You didn’t realize how much you had gotten used to him being part of your days until the days went on without him. Not suddenly—not like a door slammed shut, but like a faucet that dripped until the sink overflowed. Now, the drip was gone, the tap turned off. But you were still soaked in the memories.

He was gone. And you hated how easily everyone had accepted it.

It was late afternoon, the kind of cloudy-gray sky that made everything look softer, like the world had been rubbed with a layer of dust. You sat outside the library, on that same bench tucked beneath the skeletal arms of a tree that had long since shed its leaves. The wind moved gently through the branches, dry and cool, like fingers brushing against your skin, but you barely even felt it.

Your textbook lay open in your lap, untouched. You weren’t reading—you hadn’t been reading for a while. You were just… sitting. Existing. Or something like it.

Students moved past in waves—laughing, talking, balancing coffees in one hand and phones in the other. Their lives felt fast, full, like they were already becoming something. Moving forward, getting somewhere. But you? You felt stuck in the same still frame, like time had stretched out for you but kept moving for everyone else.

Your phone buzzed once in your pocket. You didn’t reach for it. You already knew it wouldn’t be him.

It hadn’t been him in months.

Lando was gone. Not just in the physical way—though yes, he was hundreds of miles away in Amsterdam, probably stretched out in a dorm bed beside someone who wasn’t you. But he was also gone in the invisible, intimate, excruciating way. In the way someone disappears from your days, not all at once, but in pieces. One text not sent, one weekend not spent together, one secret not shared until all that’s left is pure silence.

You saw all the stories, posts, sunlit selfies. Blurry party photos, Olivia’s cherry gloss smudged on his cheek, and his hand around her waist like it belonged there. His smile—it looked so familiar, yet no longer yours.

He had everything he had ever wanted.

A new city. A new life. A new girl.

And you were still here, feeling as if you’re basically wasting your time. Staring at the same sidewalk cracks, listening to the same sad songs and playing the same night in your head—the one where you almost told him everything. The one where he looked at you like you were the only person in the universe, only to walk away and give his world to someone else.

Sometimes, in quiet moments, you thought back to that night in your kitchen. When he showed up drunk, lost, whispering he didn’t want to leave you. You hadn’t understood what he meant back then. Not fully. Maybe you didn’t want to, but now, in the echo of his absence, it haunted you.

It wasn’t even the relationship that hurt the most. It was the way it all disappeared—like you had never mattered, never been chosen, never been even considered.

You remembered finding out about him and Olivia. You didn’t sleep that night. You just lay there, eyes burning, heart breaking in this small, quiet, invisible way—where you weren’t allowed to scream or sob or say this isn’t fair because technically, nothing had been promised.

But it had felt like a promise. Hadn’t it?

In the shared glances, in the laughter, in the way he used to text you when something dumb happened and say you were the first person he thought of. In the memory of him crouching in front of you at the party, brushing a tear from your cheek and saying he missed you.

Damn. Had you been that easy to forget?

Now, months later, you still carried that grief, that quiet ache but one else really noticed it. You’d gotten good at pretending—at laughing when you were supposed to, convincing that everything was great when people asked about school, often responding “yeah, I’m okay” with just the right smile to convince them.

But deep down, you were stuck, you couldn’t move on, and that’s what scared you the most. Because he had already moved on.

His heart had mended so quickly, while yours was still bleeding.

You saw it every time you opened Instagram. The way he glowed in those photos, new hair suiting him so goddamn good, looking like nothing ever haunted him. Like you had never haunted him. Like the version of himself that only existed when he was with you had vanished—as if it never mattered in the first place.

And yet you still remembered.

You remembered the time he fell asleep with his head on your lap, mumbling half-dreamed thoughts about how safe he felt with you. The time you screamed the lyrics of your favourite songs in your room, both of you out of breath from laughing too hard. The moment, months ago, when he almost confessed—voice low, eyes soft, something hidden in the way he touched your hand. But you had brushed it off. Laughed, and teased him about it, not taking him seriously because back then you hadn’t known.

You hadn’t realized, and now it was too late.

It wasn’t fair, how one person could move on and build a life, while the other lived with an ending that never truly ended.

You looked up from your textbook and blinked into the gray sky. Your chest ached—dull and constant. It had become part of you now, the same way a scar settles into skin.

Sometimes, you wondered if he ever missed you. If he ever thought back to the version of his life that included you. But you knew the truth. For him, it was just something that happened. Something small. But for you? It was everything. And it felt like the world ended when it did.

Some mornings, you stared at your phone for too long. You’d open your messages and scroll to his name, only to lock your screen again. His contact was still saved—still with the dumb nickname he’d given himself when you finally saved his number. Still with the photo of him pulling a face, mid-laugh, cheeks pink from the cold. You couldn’t bring yourself to change or delete it because deleting it would make it all real, and you weren’t ready for that.

You still carried all of the conversations in your head. Those little ones, and stupid ones. Like what he would say if he saw you after going to the hairstylist, how he’d tease you for the playlist you’d made for studying or how he’d groan dramatically about missing your mom’s cooking if he walked through your front door again.

You still remembered the way it all slipped. The last few months of high school had felt like they were lined with fog—slow, delicate, full of things unsaid. You had started keeping your emotions in a box, tucking them beneath small smiles and empty reassurances. You didn’t want to be a weight on his shoulders, didn’t want to make things harder. And most importantly, you didn’t want to lose him by telling him how much you needed him to stay. But you lost him anyway.

When you got to know that he was going to university with Olivia, it felt like your heart had been held above a flame. Slowly, gently burning.

He had made his choice, and it hadn’t been you.

You never told anyone how much that night broke you. How you cried in the shower with your hand pressed over your mouth, not to muffle the sobs, but to hold yourself together. You didn’t want anyone to know that you’d fallen apart over someone who, to the outside world, had never been yours to begin with.

But he had been yours. In the stolen glances, in the late-night conversations, in the inside jokes that no one else understood. He had been yours in every way that mattered—until he wasn’t.

Now, time was moving without him. He was off in a new city—Amsterdam, with new friends, new routines and new loves. And you? You were left behind with the echoes.

You never told him how often you still wore the hoodie he left at your place after one of many movie nights. Or how your chest still clenched every time you passed his old house, how sometimes you swore you could hear his laugh in the crowd, only to remember he wasn’t here anymore. The worst part? No one knew you were still grieving. Because you decided to just smile through it as it had never been said what you two were.

Some days, the sadness came in small waves—manageable, dull, like a bruise. Other days, however, it felt catastrophic, like you were drowning in everything unsaid. Everything he’d taken with him, everything he’d left behind.

You wondered—deeply, painfully—if he thought of you at all. If there were nights when he missed your voice, if he ever wished, even just for a second, that he’d done it all differently.

But you didn’t ask, you didn’t reach out because if he had wanted to stay he would’ve.

Right?

And yet, even now, all this time later, with the silence between you stretching wider and wider from one day to another, you still dreamed of him sometimes. Still woke up with tears on your pillow and his name lodged somewhere in your throat. Still felt like he was right at your fingertips.

Close enough to remember, but too far to touch.

────୨ৎ────

Amsterdam had been covered with heavy, dark rain clouds for a week now. Thin, cold rain that didn’t fall in sheets, but misted the air like grief that never stopped clinging. The kind that soaked into the seams of your hoodie and stuck to your eyelashes.

He’d been in this city for eight months now. Everything should’ve felt like a new chapter. Everything should’ve felt like the freedom he once craved — the escape he told himself he needed. Instead, he felt… off. Out of place in his own life. Like he had walked onto someone else’s path and didn’t know how to find his way back.

He had new friends here, a schedule, a routine, a girlfriend. He even made sure to decorate his room with little posters, like you once told him to. But even then—even with those pieces of color and personality—it felt hollow. He felt hollow. Olivia filled the space beside him, but not within him. That space had been carved out slowly, over the last year. And it hadn’t been carved for her. It had been carved for you.

Lando hadn’t been able to sleep properly in weeks. His room was too clean, too beige. He missed the cute mugs you used for drinking tea with him and the way your socks never matched. He even missed the ridiculous alarm tone you used—that one song you claimed was the only thing aggressive enough to get you out of bed. Now his alarm was Olivia. Waking him up with a practiced kiss to the cheek and a to-do list for the day already in her hand. Organized and efficient, but distant.

She always smelled expensive and her hair was always perfect. Her perfume clung to his hoodies now, replacing the faint vanilla and lavender scent that used to make his chest clench unexpectedly. She fit the picture—but not the frame.

He didn’t notice how much he was unraveling until he stopped recognizing himself. Everything he said felt like a script, everything he did felt like it was on autopilot. He went to class., he sat through lectures, then he answered Olivia’s questions, and he smiled when he was supposed to smile.

But it wasn’t him. It wasn’t the Lando he had been all his life, this was a new, artificial version of him. He’d laugh at something someone said at a party, and the sound would feel different. He’d catch himself zoning out at lunch, his eyes drawn to things that reminded him of home—a chipped tile, a girl wearing her hair like you used to, the specific color of a hoodie like the one you always borrowed from him. It has never stopped.

You were a ghost that followed him everywhere, not haunting him maliciously—but softly, and quietly. Just present enough to hurt.

And every time Olivia asked him what was wrong, he’d lie.

“Nothing. Just tired.”

“I’m fine.”

“It’s just adjusting to a new place, that’s all.”

Sometimes, when Olivia was out late with her friends, he’d sit on the cold tile floor of the kitchen—like he had that night in your kitchen, and he’d let the silence settle.

He remembered what he said to you, slumped against the cabinets, head spinning, your shoulder warm beneath him. At the time, he hadn’t fully understood what that meant. But now? Now he did because he had left, and it had ruined him.

He checked his phone before the flight, over and over. Desperately hoping for a message. One of your typical, low-effort, high-meaning texts:

“Don’t forget your passport, idiot.” or “You’re gonna do great, Lan.”

But it never came.

He’d hoped—selfishly—that you’d come say goodbye. That you’d be there at the airport, even if just standing in the back. That maybe, just maybe, you’d catch his hand, say something like “Stay.” But you didn’t.

He’d looked for you anyway. Chest tight, heart racing, his eyes scanning the faces of every person who showed up to send him off. Laughing, hugging, cheering. But not you. And in that moment, he felt something twist deep in his chest—a mix of guilt and disbelief. Because even after everything… some part of him truly believed you’d be there. You always were, until now.

And something inside him snapped quietly in that moment. Like a string too tight for too long finally giving way.

She didn’t come.

She didn’t—

Lando never deleted your messages. He couldn’t. They were still there, buried deep in the chat log. All those late-night voice notes, the blurry selfies, the playlists you made, the “tell me you got home safe, idiot” texts. Now they sat untouched, blue and gray bubbles frozen in time.

One night, he tapped on one of your voice notes and hit play, and your voice filled the room. It broke him. He sank to the floor—knees pulled to his chest, face in his hands—and cried. Really cried. Not the frustrated kind, or the angry kind, but the kind that came from loss. From deep, heavy regret because now, with the noise of this new life screaming around him, he realized how quiet you had been when you left.

You didn’t beg, you didn’t argue. You didn’t even try to convince him to stay. You simply stepped back, and he let you.

Everything with Olivia started to rot after that. Not all at once—but slowly. He stopped laughing at her jokes, she started noticing how distant he’d become, they argued more. She asked why he wouldn’t touch her like he used to, why he stayed up late when she went to bed. Why didn't he try. He didn’t have an answer she wanted to hear. Because the truth was that he was still in love with someone else. And he’d left her behind.

He tried. God, he tried. Olivia was everything on paper—beautiful, perfect body, intelligent, well-spoken. She had a plan for her future, a five-year vision board, a curated Spotify playlist for every mood. But she didn’t know how to read his silences like you did.

She didn’t call him out when he was spiraling in his thoughts, having anxiety attacks. She didn’t remember how he hated fish or how he picked at the skin on his thumb when he was overthinking. She didn’t feel like home, and over time, he stopped trying to force it. He stopped texting her when he stayed on campus later than planned, he started noticing how tight her grip was on his arm, how her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes when he mentioned your name—which he always did by accident.

You had a way of slipping into his sentences, even when he wasn’t trying.

“Oh yeah, she always said that movie was mint!”

“We used to listen to this song in the summer.”

Each time, Olivia would go quiet, and Lando would pretend he didn’t notice—but he did.

He just didn’t know how to stop it.

The nights were the worst. When the city noise finally died, and all that was left was the glow of streetlights bleeding through the blinds. He’d lie awake, the bed too big, the air too thin, your voice still echoing faintly in the back of his mind.

It wasn’t even the last time he saw you that haunted him—not really. It was everything before that. The look in your eyes when you told him you were fine, the way you nodded, even though your voice cracked. The way you smiled for him even while your heart broke quietly behind your ribs.

He’d never forget the weight of your head on his shoulder in that quiet kitchen. The warmth of your presence, the familiar rhythm of your breathing, the silence between you that somehow said everything he wasn’t brave enough to. You just let him rest there, drowning in the alcohol, the ache, and the guilt.

Lando has thought about messaging you so many times. Late at night, early in the morning, after a fight with Olivia, after a dream that felt too real. He even typed out a few drafts, but he always deleted them because it felt too selfish. Because what right did he have to pull you back when he was the one who walked away?

So instead, he stayed silent—and hoped you’d reach out first. Yet days passed, and you didn’t.

He scrolled through your Instagram more often than he wanted to admit. You’d changed your profile picture, and even cut your hair shorter. You posted photos with friends, laughing in golden sunlight, and yet your eyes still carried something heavy, something distant. He zoomed in on one photo once, just to make sure he wasn’t imagining it—that slight sadness you always tried to hide behind your smile.

You looked okay. But not happy. And it wrecked him to know that he was probably the reason why.

At the four-month mark, he started skipping more classes, stayed in bed longer and let his favorite lego sets collect dust. Olivia noticed, of course, but she didn’t ask the right questions—and even if she had, he wouldn’t have told the truth. Because the truth was simple and devastating: he missed you more than he ever thought possible. Not just in the romantic sense—but existentially. Like something about his very being had gone numb without you there to ground him, like he couldn’t find the version of himself he liked anymore. The version who laughed too loudly, who stayed up late talking about nothing, who said stupid things just to make you roll your eyes and smile.

He felt like a stranger to himself, and the more he tried to fit into this new life, the more he realized he didn’t belong here.

He hadn’t told Olivia yet about the truth of what he was feeling. About the growing distance in his chest every time she kissed him. About how every time he said “I love you,” it felt like a lie wrapped in an apology. He couldn’t look at her without thinking about how he got here. And how he should’ve never left you behind.

────୨ৎ────

The apartment was dim, lit only by the blue glare of a paused movie screen and the glow of Olivia’s phone. Outside, the city murmured its usual midnight song—distant traffic, wind brushing windows, occasional laughter from people who still had somewhere to be.

However, inside, it was dead quiet.

Lando sat slouched on the far end of the couch, elbows on his knees, thumb pressed hard into the side of his temple. His jaw ached from clenching. He’d been this way for the past hour—motionless, burning silently.

Olivia didn’t notice. Or maybe she did, but chose not to care. Her legs were tucked beneath her, wrapped in that gray blanket she bought when they were picking things for the apartment. She scrolled on her phone, her thumb moving in slow flicks, laughter bubbling from her lips every now and then at something on her screen.

It didn’t even feel like they were in the same room.

“You’re really not gonna talk again tonight?” She finally said, not even looking at him, too busy replying to someone on Instagram.

He blinked slowly, taking a deep breath. “There’s nothing to say.”

Her eyes snapped to him. “That’s bullshit, Lan. You’ve been weird for weeks.” She tilted her head, getting a better look at him. Lando opened his mouth, then closed it, exhaling through his nose.

“Is this about college?” She asked, more pointed now. “Or is this about her?” He stiffened at her last words.

There it was—the unspoken name, hanging in the air like a match above gasoline.

“Of course it is,” She scoffed, throwing her phone down. “You’ve been floating since we got here. You barely try anymore. Like your body’s here, but your head’s somewhere else—always looking back to Bristol. You need to understand that this city and every memory that is connected with it is already long gone.”

He looked at her, and for the first time in a long time, really looked—and didn’t recognize the person staring back. She wasn’t the Olivia he had first met, full of ambition and spontaneous affection. She was different now. Controlled, and expectant. Like she wanted to mold him into someone else.

How could he forget about Bristol, about you?

“Because I don’t feel like myself anymore, Liv!” Lando finally snapped, voice sharp, loud and desperate. “I don’t even know who the fuck I am when I’m with you.”

Olivia’s eyes narrowed, “Wow,” She snickered, voice trembling with disbelief. “That’s a shitty thing to say to the person who moved hundreds of kilometers to a foreign country with you.”

“No. You moved here,” He snapped, his voice finally rising. “And I just followed. I followed after you here because I thought that maybe it would fix whatever I was feeling. But it didn’t. It just made it worse.”

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. She blinked a few times before finally letting out a scoff and replying, “Okay, so this is my fault, huh?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Bullshit!” She stood now, the blanket falling off her lap. “You’ve been checked out for months. Is this really about her, Lando? Just say it. Have balls and say it, straight to my face, that this is true.”

Lando’s chest tightened. He ran a hand through his curls, pacing in quick, tight circles. He could feel the frustration building in his throat, like it was choking him.

“I haven’t spoken to her in months, Olivia.”

“But you still think about her. I see it on your face every time we walk past something that reminds you of home. Every time someone says her name. You go quiet, and get lost in your little, stupid head again, overthinking everything.”

Her words landed like a punch in the stomach. He stopped pacing, his back was turned to her. Softly, he answered, “Maybe I am.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Her breath hitched, hands trembling, knotted into fists.

“You’re such a coward, Lando,” She whispered in disbelief. “You couldn’t even admit you loved her. You just kept pretending, and now that this life isn’t perfect, you want to run back like a scared little boy.”

He turned around, eyes shining now, but not from tears. From fury. “I never wanted this life, can’t you understand it?!” He shouted, gripping his fists tightly, his nails digging deeply into the skin of his hand. “You planned it all out and I just… I went along. I left my family, my best friend, my home. I thought I could make it work, but I can’t. I don’t even know who I am anymore, Olivia.”

“So what now?” She spat, a non-chalant grimace visible on her face. “You’re gonna crawl back and expect her to just be waiting for you with open arms? Like none of this happened? Pretend like you didn’t break her heart too?”

That brought him to a halt. He hadn’t let himself think of it that way—how much damage he might’ve caused. How you had stayed quiet while he disappeared into someone else’s world.

Lando felt sick.

“I don’t know what she’ll say,” He admitted, softer now. “But I can’t keep doing this. Not when I feel like I’ve lost everything that made me who I was.”

Olivia stared at him for a long time. Then, her expression hardened. “Then go. And don’t bother coming back.” She added coldly.

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“Go ahead. Pack all of your shit, dickhead. Go chase your fucking dream girl. Just don’t expect me to wait around while you figure out who you are.”

He nodded once, jaw tight, eyes stinging. “I wouldn’t even ask you to.”

And just like that, he turned around and walked into their shared bedroom. He pulled out the old bag from under the bed—the one with his initials stitched into the side from when he was sixteen. It hadn’t been touched in months.

He threw in clothes without thinking. Chargers. Toothbrush. Photo strip he’d once tucked into a side pocket—the one with the two of you, silly grins and bright eyes, back when life had been simple. With all the necessary things, he zipped the bag up, slung it over his shoulder, and stepped back into the living room.

When he came back out, Olivia stood there, arms crossed over her chest, tears in her angry eyes. She was bitter, not even trying to stop him.

“Lando.” She called him one last time, and he turned to look at her for the last time. “You’ll regret this,” She continued, voice low and furious. “She won’t take you back, and you’ll be left with nothing.”

But Lando didn’t say a word, he just walked out, slamming the door behind him. The moment the door clicked shut, he felt it—like breathing after holding it too long. Like grief and relief tangled into one.

For the first time in months, the silence didn’t feel suffocating. It felt like something new beginning.

────୨ৎ────

You weren’t expecting anything—just the usual hum of silence broken only by the rain pounding on the windows. It had been a quiet evening. Too quiet, actually.

You’d brushed your teeth, turned the lights low, your skin still warm from a shower, wrapped in a worn hoodie far too big for you. A movie played softly in the background, but you weren’t really watching. You never did anymore. Everything had dulled around the edges. You went through motions now. You existed in between hours, in between memories of what used to be and the aching of what could’ve been.

It was close to 1:00 AM. You hadn’t planned on staying up this late, but sleep never came easy these days. Not since he left. So when the knock came—three distinct raps followed by a silence so heavy it filled the room—your stomach dropped.

You froze mid-step, heart punching your ribs, unsure whether it was just your mind playing tricks on you. But then it came again—three more knocks, slower this time. Heavier. Like the person on the other side wasn’t sure they had the right to be there.

Your feet moved before you realized it. Soft, tentative steps across the hardwood. The kind you take when your heart is at your throat. When everything in you says, “Don’t hope. Don’t you dare hope.”

You reached the door and slowly peeked through the peephole. And in that moment, everything inside you fell apart.

It was him. Lando.

Soaked from head to toe, rain dripping from his curls, hoodie clinging to him like the weight of every decision he’d made. His face was pale, exhausted. His eyes locked on the doormat like he couldn’t bear to look up. He looked like regret had come to life.

You stared, frozen in place. Every nerve in your body screamed. Every instinct said this isn’t real, that it was just a trick of your mind conjured out of all the times you’d cried yourself to sleep.

You didn’t even think twice as your fingers already fumbled at the lock, breath shallow, pulse racing. When the door finally creaked open, the rain surged in, bringing cold and memories with it.

Lando slowly lifted his head, making your eyes meet, and in that moment it felt as if everything around stopped. The storm behind him blurred into white noise, and the air between you buzzed with everything unspoken.

Your throat tightened, and you felt as if your knees threatened to give out any second. You hadn’t seen him in eight months. Just glimpses, pictures with Olivia that felt like salt in a wound you never asked for. But now here he was, Lando in the flesh, standing right in front of you. And you couldn’t breathe.

Lando didn’t speak. He just stood there, rain running down his face, mixing with something that might’ve been tears—but you couldn’t tell. He looked older somehow. More tired, like he hadn’t slept in days, maybe weeks. Like life had eaten him alive.

You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to scream, and cry. To ask him why—why he left, why he never looked back, why he let you shatter without a single word.

The pain hit you all at once—heavy, violent, and consuming—making you break apart. Your throat burned as you moved towards him. You shoved him back once, then again. Your fists thudded against his chest, angry, raw, messy and real.

“You bastard—” Your voice broke into a sob as you hit him again. “You goddamn— selfish coward—” Lando flinched at your words, but still didn’t move away.

You shoved him harder. “You— you left me! You said nothing, not even a single word! You just disappeared! You think you can show up here after months and what? What?!”

Your fists pounded his chest as anger boiled over into pure heartbreak. “Do you have any idea what you did to me? How much it hurt?” Still, he took it. He didn’t raise a hand. He let you hit him. “You just left! Like I was nothing to you. Like I wasn’t even— God, I hate you!”

Each word broke more of you apart. Hot tears blurred your vision as your fists pounded against him with every ache you’d buried for months. You were crying now, properly crying. Ugly, broken sobs tearing through your chest. The kind of crying that made your knees weak, that shook your whole body.

“You fucking asshole! You didn’t even say goodbye—” Your voice cracked. “I waited, Lando. I waited for you to say something. To make it make sense. And you just— you were gone.”

Still, he said nothing. His breath was shaking, lips parted, eyes wet from more than just the rain. And then finally—finally—he moved. Slowly and carefully, as if approaching a wounded animal, he wrapped his arms around you in a strong embrace. You struggled at first—your fists still weakly hitting at his chest, but his arms only tightened more. One hand cradled the back of your head, the other splayed across your back, grounding you.

“Shhh… I know. I know.” He whispered, his throat tightening, “I’m sorry.” His voice cracked on the last word, and that’s what finally shattered you.

You stopped fighting.

His arms wrapped around you like he’d never let go. Tight and desperate. One hand tangled in your hair, the other pressing you against him like he was terrified you’d disappear. You could feel his heart pounding in his chest—fast and scared. He was shaking, and so were you.

You sobbed into his hoodie, the fabric soaking up your tears and rain and months of silence. He didn’t say a word. His chin dropped to rest on the top of your head as he held you there, like if he let go, the world would fall apart again. You gripped at him like a lifeline, hands fisting into his hoodie, face pressed into the warmth of his chest as your body trembled. You missed him so much.

No words were needed. Not yet. Just the rain and the sound of your heartbeat against his. The thud of two souls colliding after too long apart.

You cried into his chest while he stood in your doorway, dripping rainwater and regret, your name probably sitting at the edge of his tongue.

And still, nothing. Nothing except the unshakable feeling that even now, even after everything—this was still home.

────୨ৎ────

Some time had passed before you finally led him inside.

The house was still quiet. Not the kind of quiet that hummed peacefully—but the breathless kind. The kind where the walls still echoed with everything left unsaid.

Rain had soaked into the hallway carpet beneath your feet, his clothes leaving wet spots behind him that you didn’t have the heart to care about. Your hand trembled slightly as it held onto the railing while you climbed the stairs. Behind you, Lando followed wordlessly, his movements hesitant—like he wasn’t sure he belonged here anymore.

Your room hadn’t changed much. Same soft light from the lamp on the bedside table, same books piled up on your desk, same blanket folded at the end of the bed. And yet, when he stepped in behind you, something shifted. The air tightened.

Lando stood in the doorway, dripping, still breathing like he hadn’t figured out how to do it properly since he saw your face again. And you didn’t say anything. Not yet. You just turned around to face him, heart pounding in your ears like a warning, and the second your eyes met again in that dim golden light, something collapsed inside you. Not with noise, but with a softness that hurt.

You crossed the room slowly. No rush, no desperation, just the ache of every second that had passed since he had left. Every second you’d spent trying not to miss him, trying not to hate him, trying not to wish for this exact moment.

He looked down at you when you stopped in front of him. His hair was sticking to his forehead. His shirt clung to his skin, knuckles were scraped, and his eyes held centuries of regret. And you reached for him—not with certainty, but with instinct.

Fingers brushed his sleeve, then his hand, and finally, without a word, he let out the quietest exhale and stepped closer to you, forehead pressing to yours like he’d finally made it home.

You stood like that for a while, eyes closed, neither of you moving. The sound of the rain bleeding through the walls.

“I…” He started to whisper, voice cracking—but you shook your head against him.

“Don’t,” You breathed, your voice trembling. “Not yet, Lan.” The nickname made his heart squeeze painfully, remembering all the happiest times when you called him that.

Lando nodded as he understood what you meant. This wasn’t the time for words, for answers—not tonight.

You took his hand and pulled him gently toward the bed. It wasn’t romantic nor filled with lust. It was the comfort and longing that made you do that.

You handed him a towel from the dresser, watched as he clumsily dried his hair, and peeled off the hoodie that stuck to him like a second skin. Then you passed him one of your old sweatshirts—the navy one he used to steal during movie nights, and the one you could never bring yourself to throw away. He hesitated, but eventually he took it, his hands shaking slightly as he pulled it over his head.

You turned away to give him space. But when you sat down on the bed, you felt the weight shift beside you. He was close, but not touching. Like he was scared to ruin the fragile thing you’d just begun stitching back together.

Not knowing what to say, you lay down, and he followed your steps. It was awkward at first, like learning again a language you used to speak fluently. His arm grazed yours and you shifted slightly, making him mirror your moves. The duvet settled over you both like a secret, warm and heavy and sacred.

It took time—slow, aching minutes—for your body to relax. But it happened, eventually. Your head found its way to his chest, just above his heart, and his arm found your waist. Your legs tangled together under the covers like they’d never forgotten how to fit. And still… you said nothing.

You listened his breathing—to the gradually slowing thump of his heart. To the rain whispering against your windows. You felt the warmth of his skin through the borrowed fabric. You felt the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek.

He held you like you were made of glass. Carefully, and reverently. Your fingers curled in the hem of his sleeve and didn’t let go. And finally—finally—you allowed yourself to breathe.

You didn’t want to sleep. You were afraid all of this would vanish if you closed your eyes. That if you let go, he’d disappear again. That the morning would come and this would all be just another cruel dream. But your body betrayed you, and for the first time in what felt like lifetimes, you fell asleep wrapped in the arms of someone who knew you. Who had broken you, and had come back.

You didn’t dream You just slept—heart pressed to heart, hands entwined in quiet forgiveness.

And Lando? He stayed awake, watching the way your face softened in sleep. The faint frown that still lingered, even now. He studied every inch of your skin like he was afraid he’d forget it again. His thumb brushed your back, up and down, slow and reverent.

He couldn’t believe that he’d left this, that he’d chosen to leave you.

You stirred slightly, breathing shifting against his chest, and he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear so gently it almost broke him.

And that was when he knew.

No matter what it took—no matter how long it would be—he wasn’t leaving again. He couldn’t. You were his home. And this? This was just the beginning.

────୨ৎ────

The next morning the rain hadn’t stopped. It painted the windows in soft streams, whispering against the glass like an old lullaby, a rhythm that felt almost like breathing. Slow, gentle and unrelenting. The world outside was hushed, dulled beneath a curtain of gray skies and water-soaked streets, but in the stillness of the apartment, it felt safe. Wrapped in that soft kind of silence that only rain brings—where time slows, and nothing demands to be done except existing.

The bedroom was still dim, bathed in the faint amber glow of the bedside lamp that was left on throughout the night. Its golden light caught on the edges of things—the half-empty glass of water on the dresser, the corner of a blanket trailing off the bed, the framed photo next to the books which depicted you and Lando, laughing at something neither of you remembered now. Younger, lighter, unaware of the ache the years would bring.

But now, your older selves lay beneath the covers, wrapped up in warmth and each other. Skin against skin, his arm draped around your waist, your legs tangled naturally beneath the duvet. As if you’d always belonged in this shape. Like the spaces you left in each other had only ever been waiting to be filled.

His thumb moved slowly against your side—back and forth, back and forth. A silent check-in. A promise, a reminder that he was there.

When you woke up, you didn’t move at first. Just let your eyes follow the soft pattern of shadows across the ceiling, let the sound of the rain blur into the quiet thudding of your heart.

Lando shifted slightly, lifting his head just enough to look at you. His curls were messy, and his eyes—blue and familiar—were half-lidded but awake. “Are you okay?” He murmured, voice thick with sleep and something deeper.

You hesitated, then shrugged, your voice soft. “Just thinking.”

“About?” He questioned, his tone careful. Like he already knew the answer might sting.

You blinked slowly, and swallowed the lump forming in your throat. “You know… I don’t think I’ve forgiven you yet,” You whispered. “Not fully.” The words cracked slightly on their way out, and you hated how vulnerable they sounded. How fragile they made you feel.

Lando didn’t flinch, nor pulled away. He just held your gaze. “I know.” He said quietly.

You turned onto your side to face him fully, his hand now resting on the curve of your hip. The mattress dipped slightly under your movement, the duvet sliding down your shoulder. Your skin cooled instantly in the air, but it wasn’t why you shivered.

“I told myself I had,” You continued, a little more steadily now. “I wanted to. But I still remember the silence. The way it felt when you left, Lan. Like— like I’d been erased from your life overnight. Like I didn’t matter.”

Lando’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly at your words. Then, slowly, he reached up, fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear. His touch lingered, as if trying to memorize you all over again, his eyes full of regret.

“I think about that too,” He murmured. “Every single day.” There was no defense in his voice. No excuses. Just the truth, bare and broken.

“I was a coward. I was scared, and I let that fear decide everything. I left you without a word and convinced myself it was the right thing. That you’d be fine, and that you didn’t need me. But it wasn’t about you. It was about me—and I hurt you because I didn’t know how to stay.” He shook his head, like the memory made him sick. “I was selfish. I chose a version of myself that made me feel safe, even if it meant becoming someone I didn’t recognize. Even if it meant walking away from the one person who ever really saw me.”

His eyes searched yours, shimmering. “And I’m sorry.”

The words hung between you, bare and trembling.

“I’m sorry for the silence. I’m sorry for every night you waited, every time you wondered what you did wrong, every piece of yourself you had to stitch back together without me. I should’ve been there. I should’ve fought for you.”

You felt your throat tighten. Your chest ached with the force of how badly you’d needed to hear those words.

“I think I didn’t deserve your love,” He continued, “but I had it. And I broke it. And that’s something I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life. But if there’s a chance—any chance—that I can still be the person you trust again… I’ll spend every day trying.” His voice cracked. “I just want you to know that I never stopped loving you. Not for a second.”

You blinked, and the tears finally slipped down your cheeks again—warm, unstoppable.

You sat up slowly, mirroring him now, the duvet pooled around your waist. And for a moment, you just looked at him. Looked at the boy who had left, and the man who had come back.

You whispered, “Thank you.” as a wave of relief ran down you.

You never knew how much you needed to hear that apology. And though forgiveness wasn’t something that could be wrapped in a single moment, it lived in that breath. In the way your body leaned into his without fear. In the way he exhaled like he’d been holding that apology in his lungs for a year.

You didn’t need a grand gesture. You needed this. The truth, laid bare. Between two people who had shattered each other once—and were now choosing, quietly, to try again.Together.

Your eyes met his. “Do you regret it? All of it?”

He exhaled slowly, chest rising and falling with the weight of the question. “Not everything,” He said finally, “But most of all, the time I wasted pretending I didn’t love you.” That cracked something wide open inside you.

“I thought if I stayed gone,” He continued, voice shaking now, “if I became who Olivia wanted me to be, then maybe I’d forget how much I needed you. But I didn’t. I never did. And one morning, I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize myself.” He paused for a second, his throat tightening at the recall of all the memories, “I missed you so much it made me sick.”

Your breath caught. That was the moment you let the tears fall once again—not loud or gasping, just silent, and honest. They slipped down your cheeks like the rain on the window, blurring everything.

“I missed you too,” You whispered, your hand finding his beneath the blanket, your fingers curling around his like a lifeline. “Even when I told myself I didn’t.”

When you said that, Lando smiled. It was small, soft—nothing like the wide grins he used to wear when the world was still simple—but it was real. Tired and tender and entirely yours.

He leaned forward until your foreheads touched, his breath warm against your skin. Neither of you spoke for a while, there was no need to. Just that quiet, precious stillness—the kind that only came after the storm, after the wreckage, when you realized you were both still here. Still breathing. Still reaching for each other.

When he finally whispered, “Can I stay?” it wasn’t a question about just staying at your place. It was about everything that came after—your future.

You nodded, voice barely audible. “You never have to leave again, Lan.” And you meant it wholeheartedly.

His hand curled around your side again, anchoring you close, and your body folded into his like you’d done it a hundred times before—because you had. But never like this. Never with the knowledge that tomorrow wouldn’t take him away again.

The rain outside kept falling, steady and quiet, but the storm between you had broken. And in that little apartment, tucked beneath layers of blankets and bruised apologies, two people who had once been torn apart by time and distance had finally found each other again.

Not in grand confessions. Not in desperate pleas. But in the way his thumb still moved against your hip. In the way your fingers clutched his like they couldn’t bear to let go.

This wasn’t about going back to the beginning, rather about starting from here. Where the pain had already been named. Where the truths had already been spoken. Where love, battered but burning, had quietly survived.

And tomorrow? Tomorrow could wait because right now, in the amber light and the hush of falling rain, you were home.

────୨ৎ────

3 years later

Your shared apartment smelled like warm vanilla and the candle you lit hours ago—something earthy, sandalwood maybe, that had slowly wrapped itself around the quiet of the afternoon.

Outside, the sky was beginning to shift into early evening—dusted pinks and soft oranges stretching across the skyline like a watercolor bleeding into paper. A soft breeze drifted in through the cracked balcony door, swaying the white curtains like waves.

You were nestled into the couch, legs stretched out, a blanket tossed haphazardly over both your bodies. Your head rested on Lando’s chest, his hoodie swallowing you up, the fabric worn-in and smelling like him—clean cotton and a scent you could never name but always recognized. He was absentmindedly running his fingers through your hair, slowly, over and over again, untangling the strands with gentle care like it was the most important task in the world. And in that moment, maybe it was.

A record played low in the background, some old song he loved that you’d grown to love too. Lando had his arm wrapped around you, his hand trailing slowly through your hair. Over and over. Fingertips catching in soft strands before sliding free again, curling around them like he never wanted to stop touching you.

You were laying there, head on his torso, the quiet rise and fall beneath your cheek like a lullaby. You didn’t speak. You didn’t need to. It was one of those moments where everything was said in the silence—in the closeness, the steady breathing, the way your fingers rested against the inside of his wrist, your thumb brushing the faint line of a scar you both knew the story of.

Lando shifted a little, just enough to press a kiss to the top of your head. No words, just that.

You smiled into the soft cotton of his shirt, fingers tracing slow circles over the inside of his wrist. “You’re gonna make me fall asleep, Lan.” You mumbled, your words softened by the weight of comfort, eyelids heavy.

He tilted his head slightly, brushing his lips against your hairline. “Then fall asleep,” He whispered, voice laced with that familiar warmth that always made your chest flutter. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You smiled into his shirt, your heart swelling, a quiet little ache blooming behind your ribs. “You always say that.”

He smiled, too. “Because I mean it. And would it be so bad?” He said softly, the corners of his lips twitching into a half-smile. “I like having you like this, pretty girl.”

You tilted your head to look at him, chin resting against his chest. “Like what?”

He met your eyes, all warm honey and quiet adoration. “Close.”

And then he leaned down, connecting your lips in a kiss. Not in that rushed, desperate way he used to when everything was still uncertain—when love felt fragile and maybe temporary. No, this kiss was slow. Anchored. Like he was still choosing you, over and over again, even now.

You kissed him back, one hand curling into the collar of his shirt, the other still resting against his chest where you could feel his heartbeat under your palm. He pulled back just enough to brush your nose with his, grinning against your mouth. Lando looked at you like you were something precious—like he still couldn’t believe you were real, like even in all the time that had passed, he hadn’t gotten used to having you close again.

Your fingers slid up to his jaw, thumb brushing along the line of stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave. “You know, sometimes I still feel like I’m dreaming,” You said softly. “Like I’ll wake up and you’ll still be gone.”

His brows knit together, and his free hand came up to cup your cheek gently. “Hey,” He said, voice suddenly serious, “you’re not dreaming. I’m here.”

You nodded, but your throat felt thick, full of memories you hadn’t spoken aloud in months. The silence between you shifted—still soft, but a little heavier now.

“You know I love you, right?” He asked, quiet and sure.

You nodded again, slower this time, your eyes starting to sting. “I know.” His eyes searched yours, his thumb resting just beneath your cheekbone like he couldn’t bear to lose contact.

His hand slipped back into your hair, gently tucking a strand behind your ear. “I don’t think I knew how much until I almost lost you.”

You blinked, your lips parting, but no words came. Instead, you just laid your head back against his chest, curling in tighter, wrapping your arm around his waist. You didn’t need to say it—he could feel it in the way you held him like he was home.

“You know,” He murmured after a while, “I could do this forever.”

You pretended to think about it. “Do what?”

“This,” He whispered. “Be with you. Like this. Wake up next to you. Watch you fall asleep on me before we finish a movie. Let you steal all the covers.”

“That sounds a lot like a lifetime commitment.” You smirked, making the man beside you grin at your words.

“That’s kind of the point, love.”

You looked at him then—really looked—and it hit you again, how much love had filled the quiet spaces in your life since that night he came back. Since the rain, the doorstep, the apology. Since everything shifted.

You cupped his jaw, thumb brushing over the curve of his cheek. “You know,” You said softly, “I never thought we’d make it here.”

He leaned into your touch, gaze steady. “Well, I did.” And with that, the silence wrapped around you both again—no pressure, no need to rush. Just comfort, and peace. The quiet knowledge that love didn’t need to be loud to be real.

It was here. In the way your body curved into his, perfectly fitted. In the way his eyes softened every time they landed on you. It was here. Always.

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you melted further into him, burying your face in his neck, arms wrapped tightly around his middle. You stayed like that for a long time. Breathing. Existing. Loving.

The light outside faded into dusky blues. The candle flickered, the music looped. And still, you stayed like that—wrapped in each other. Lando’s fingers never stopped moving through your hair, slow and thoughtful, like he was memorizing the feel of you. And when the night time finally came, when the only light was the glow of the kitchen lamp left on across the room, Lando gently scooped you up—blanket and all—and carried you to bed.

Because this wasn’t the beginning of something new. This was the finally. Finally together, finally home. Finally, always.

Everything that had once been right at the fingertips, was now fully grasped.

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lnfours · 4 days ago

Text

focal point ☆ chapter 8 | ln4

summary: if i had choose her or the sun, i'd be one nocturnal son of a gun.

warnings: fluff!!!!, meeting the parents awkwardness, walking along this thin line between a relationship or not (i'm really not sure how to describe it), language, some suggestive stuff in the beginning, things are heating up for them... kind of...

message from jordan: okay 1. unfortunately i am a stupid american, so pls excuse the lack of knowledge i have of england 😞 i am simply just a girl trying, and 2. the more i write for this series the more i hate it, i feel like everything's all over the place. idk, i hope you guys are enjoying it, though! also this is kinda short... pls don't kill me

series masterlist | listen to the playlist

the early morning sun was shining brightly through the light colored curtains, shadows bouncing off the walls. you had gone back and forth between scrolling through your phone and looking around lando’s childhood bedroom. catching glimpses of trophies, photos of him and his friends, and posters of different cars.

you two had gotten to his parent’s house late last night, cisca and adam staying up to greet you two as soon as you pulled in the driveway. cisca was quick to pull you into a hug, making it very clear that lando was right. she was excited to meet you. adam introduced himself kindly, helping lando bring your things inside before you all made small talk and headed to bed.

deciding you should probably get up and get started on your day, you gently moved the covers more to lando’s side before getting up and walking over to your suitcase. you rummaged around for your toiletry bag before quietly making your way into the connected bathroom.

you managed to take a quick shower, stepping out and wrapping yourself in a towel before you looked around in the bag for your toothbrush. however, the door suddenly opening caught you off guard as you let out a gasp while pulling up the towel more to make sure you were covered.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry.” lando’s voice was still raspy and filled with sleep, him covering his eyes as he pulled the door towards him, blocking his view but it not shutting all the way.

“no, no, it’s okay,” you said softly, rushing to get ready now, "just hold on one second-"

"no, i don't want to rush you, i'll run downstairs-"

"-i'm done, i swear."

he sighed in defeat when you pulled the door closed again, his eyes falling to the hoodie he had lent you the night he brought you home from the party. he smiled softly to himself as you stepped out of the room, gesturing it was all his.

he sent you a soft smile in appreciation, closing the door and taking a deep breath. the room smelt faintly of the smell of your perfume and it was still a little steamy from your shower, he laughed softly at the little smiley face you had drawn on the corner of the mirror.

once he was finished, he opened the door again, "thanks,"

you nodded, shoving your phone in the pocket of his your hoodie, "i mean, it is your bathroom."

he laughed, shaking his head, "for now, what's mine is also yours."

you joined him in the room now, settling on the fact that sharing the space would be easier than waiting for the other to be done. you reached for your toothbrush in your bag, finally being able to brush your teeth uninterrupted as he did the same.

you were finishing up when you heard him let out a soft sigh, looking over and seeing him running a hand through his hair, "i look like a mess!"

you chuckled, shaking your head as you took a step closer, "it's not that bad,"

it really wasn't. his curls were a little flat and a little frizzy, but no where near a hot mess. they were a hot kind of messy, one particular curl wanting to fall against his forehead no matter how many times he pushed it back up.

"here, let me," you said softly, moving to step between him and the counter. he let you reach up towards his hair, taking some water from the sink before raking your fingers through the curly mullet. he watched your face intently as you fixed the unruly curls.

you looked down, meeting his eyes as you softly laughed, "what?"

"nothing," he shook his head, "you're just... absolutely beautiful."

you couldn't help the heat that rose to your cheeks, "don't start,"

"no, i'm serious!" he protested with a smile before turning you around so your back was against his chest, the both of you looking at your reflections in the mirror, "i mean, c'mon. look at you,"

you smiled at your reflections before turning your head, "is this your way of smooth-talking?"

he chuckled, smirking as he leaned down to your level, "is it working?"

two can play this game, "wouldn't you like to know?"

"kids! i made breakfast whenever you're hungry!"

the two of you pulled apart at the sound of cisca's voice. he cleared his throat as you nodded your head, "you should uhm.. probably get dressed. i'm gonna... go talk to your mom."

"yeah, i'm gonna.. do that..." he said, "i'll see you downstairs."

you nodded, walking out of the bathroom and making your way down the stairs. cisca wore a smile on her face as you entered the kitchen, "morning, honey! how'd you sleep?"

you nodded, "pretty good,"

"good!" she smiled, "coffee?"

"please," you smiled as she poured some into a mug for you before you moved to fix the cup to your liking, "thank you."

"of course!" she smiled, "i made some eggs and french toast, so help yourself! they're still on the stove," you nodded and fixed yourself a plate, "what do you guys have planned for today?"

you shrugged, looking over towards her as you sat at the table, "not sure. i think lando has a few ideas, but i'm just here for the ride, really."

"he was telling me you don't visit home much," her voice was sweet and sympathetic, "you're always welcome here, dear. anytime. holiday or not, and with lando or not also. he's a bit much at times."

you laughed with her as you heard lando's footsteps approaching the kitchen, "i have ears!"

"just making sure they work, love."

"uh-huh," he joked back with her, lightheartedness hanging in the air, "looks good, mum."

she hummed, looking towards lando who was making himself a cup of coffee at the kitchen island, "don't forget, we're having family dinner tonight. everyone's coming over."

"everyone?" lando asked.

she laughed softly as she rose from the table, "yes, child. everyone," she made her way back into the kitchen as she started cleaning some things up, "i'm heading into town to get some things for dinner, do you guys need anything?"

you both shook your heads, "we're good, thank you."

she bid her goodbyes, giving lando a motherly kiss on the side of his head before she left. you cleaned up after yourself, lando helping you put the breakfast foods away before he looked down at his phone.

"well, what did you wanna do today?" he asked, leaning against the counter as he sipped on his coffee.

you shrugged, "anything interesting around here?"

"not unless we head into town."

you hummed, watching as it looked like an idea sprung into his head as he pulled his phone out from his pocket. a few seconds later, he looked up at you with a smile.

"you ready?"

you hummed, swallowing your own sip of coffee as you gave him a confused look, "i need my shoes, but where're we going?"

"c'mon," he grabbed your hand as you put your mug into the sink.

"i'm coming, i'm coming!" you laughed softly, grabbing your shoes and slipping them on before following him out the door, "are you gonna tell me where we're going, though?"

"no, but i have a feeling you'll like it," he smiled, unlocking the car door and opening the passenger side door, "at least, i hope you do."

you chuckled softly, shaking your head as you got inside.

there was one thing lando was good at and it was keeping you on your toes.

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snoopyracing · 7 months ago

Text

champagne coast // ln4

pairing: lando norris X reader

word count: 19k

warnings: cursing and alcohol use

includes: friends to lovers, summer!lando, clueless reader and lando, pining, fluff, and a little angst

summary: when lando and you spend summer break together you don't expect italy to eventually hold such a special place in your heart... or lando and you go on vacation and everyone keeps thinking you're a couple.

playlist for the fic: spotify | apple music

masterlist

─── ༺❀༻ ───

It was the Monday before the Belgium Grand Prix when Lando asked – what are you doing for summer break?

The sun had started to set over the coast, its golden reflection rippling across the water and onto the balcony of Lando’s Monaco apartment. The same balcony that the two of you currently resided on, choosing to share the wicker couch instead of one of you sitting in one of the empty chairs.

You were sat sideways on the couch with your legs crossed, your view consisting more of Lando than the picturesque sunset over the sea. A cheap bottle of pink moscato, which was your favorite, was sitting on the table where Lando had his feet propped up.

He’d always complain about how sweet it was, but then drink more of it than you. In all reality, he’d actually grown to love it because of you, but he’d never tell you that. He’d only been able to find it at one place in Monaco, so when he knew you were coming to visit he always made sure to have a couple bottles on hand and maybe a bottle for himself when he was missing you.

Your eyes met his as you processed his question. This right now was your summer vacation. He surely knew that, right? “Summer break? I don’t have a summer break like you do, Lando.” It was true, you had barely managed to get this week off from work to be able to go to Belgium, let alone have a month off. “I figured me being here for a couple days then going to Belgium would be my vacation.”

A disapproving sigh escapes past his lips as he speaks. “That is not a vacation.”

“Well it sure as hell beats being stuck at an office in London.”

He downed the remainder of the wine in his glass and fully turned his body towards you. His arm resting across the back of the couch, his fingers nearly touching you. “I think you should come with me on vacation.”

You stifle a groan by taking a drink of your wine. “Lando, you know I don’t do Ibiza. It's not my kind of place, especially this time of year.” It was a beautiful place no doubt, but the big party scene was not your favorite. And the couple times you had gone with Lando and your shared friend group it was so chaotic and you had a hangover that lasted for what seemed like a week. So no– Ibiza and you weren’t the best of friends.

“Who said anything about Ibiza?” He’s got a smirk toying at the corners of his lips, you can tell by the way his upper lip twitches slightly. Not that you stare at his lips that much to be able to notice that kind of thing.

“Lando Norris not going to Ibiza during his summer break? Should I alert the press? Did you hit your head? Are you running a fever?” You lean forward to check his temperature, but he playfully swatted away your hand with a giggle before you could get close enough. “Have you broken the news to Fewt-”

That smirk had fully developed across his face as he cut you off. “Who said anything about Max?”

Now you really thought that he’d bumped his head or was slightly tipsy already. You cocked an eyebrow at him in question. “Where are you going then? Especially without Max?”

Lando leaned back, the wicker creaking beneath him, but his eyes were still trained on you. Golden hour had made them even more blue, resembling the crystal blue water that was just a short walk away. “I’m going wherever you want to go.”

“Lando.”

“Y/N.” He’s the one to cock an eyebrow now.

“I can’t go with you.”

His smirk had turned into a pout and he knew how to work those big blue eyes, especially on you. “Why not? Wherever you want to go– we will go. Not many people get that opportunity Y/N.”

You go to take another drink and realize your glass is empty, but before you can reach for the bottle Lando’s already got it in his hands, reaching over slightly to pour you another glass. “Who all is going then if Max isn’t going?”

He sets the bottle back down on the table, hesitating for a moment before speaking. You two are close, probably the closest friend he has compared to Max, but he worries that you won’t be up for what he’s about to suggest. “It would just be me and you.”

You feel your cheeks get hot at his proposal, but you shake it off, blaming it on the wine.

As much as the idea of Lando and you going on a trip together sounds amazing, you just don’t think you can make it work. You live a normal life and being able to just go on lavish trips at the drop of a hat is not something you get to experience, no matter how much Lando wants you to or you would like to.

“I would love to Lan, but I don't think I could get the time off again.” Your finger nervously circles the rim of the wine glass as you contemplate even bringing your other reason up. Mainly because you know what his answer will be, but against your better judgment you take another swig of the wine as liquid courage before telling him the embarrassing truth. “I also just can’t afford it.”

And without skipping a beat he blurts out. “I’ll pay.” You’re immediately shaking your head no, but before you can verbally deny his offer he’s speaking again “Seriously Y/N. I will pay. It’s not a big deal.”

Except him paying your way for this trip is a big deal. Just how it’s a big deal everytime you come and visit him in Monaco and he insists that you don’t spend a dime while you’re here. It’s bad enough that you stay at his place, let alone have him pay for your dinner every night. Or how he is always offering to fly you out to races on your free weekends. Or insisting that the random gifts he gives you don’t cost that much, like you can’t read the designer labels on the boxes or labels.

It makes you feel bad that you can’t offer the same back to him. The constant worry that he might think you are using him for his money makes your stomach hurt because it’s the last thing you’d ever do. He’s one of the most giving and kindest people you know and to be able to call him your best friend is something you treasure. And you truly hope he knows how much you appreciate everything he does for you, but how could he not when you tell him every chance you get.

“Lando, really I cannot let you pay for me to go on vacation. It’s one thing to let me crash at your apartment and for you to get me passes to races, which I appreciate more than you will ever know. But I draw the line at a whole vacation. I don’t want to seem like a freeloader who is using you, that’s honestly the la-”

“Oh my god will you just let me spoil you!” Lando had enough of your endless rambling. Your need to always try and decline his gifts or offerings until he convinces you that you are worthy of them drives him crazy. To Lando there isn’t a person on Earth who deserves everything and more than you. And the fact that he can afford to give you anything you’d ever want tickles him pink. Hell if it was possible, he’d buy you the whole damn universe, even if you hadn’t asked for it.

“I hate that you think– that I would think you’re using me. Never in a million years would I think that. You mean a lot to me Y/N, truly. You’re one the most important people in my life and you deserve everything and more that I give you. If I thought you were using me, I would not be asking you to go on vacation with me, believe me. I love having you around and with us not seeing each other like we used to, I figured a trip with just the two of us would be nice.”

He pauses for a moment as he scoots a little closer to you on the couch, your legs touching as the glow from the sun envelopes around you two. “Now please don’t try and worm your way out of this trip. I’ve missed you so much and if you don’t end up going I think you’re just gonna have to move in with me.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics, but try not to let his heartfelt words get to your head. “How would I even get the time off work again? Tell them ‘Oh my famous F1 driver best friend wants to take me on a trip. Can I please have some more time off?’ I don’t think that would work.”

“Well I think it would work. Especially if you add in that I’m super hot.”

The giggles that come from you lets you know that you’ve drank your fair share of wine for the evening. “Oh I don’t think they would ever tell me no If I added that in.”

“If they do say no then just quit and I’ll get you a job somehow with McLaren or Quadrant or something. I just really want to go on this trip with you.”

You aren’t sure if it's the wine in your system or the fact that you want nothing more right now than to spend a week with Lando in some beautiful country, without a care in the world. But you ignore every responsible and logical part of you and tell him what he wants to hear.

“Alright. So where are we going then?”

His eyes light up and the smile that spreads across his face is comparable to that first win smile. “That’s all up to you baby.”

Both of your hearts skip a beat at the term of endearment that came from him. His because he can’t believe he let it slip and yours because you can’t believe he called you that so easily. But you both ignore it and you focus on the one place you’d had on your mind since he mentioned taking a trip.

“Italy?” You suggest with a hopeful smile on your face.

He fills up his glass with the last of the fruit juice like wine and holds it up towards you, your glasses clinking together in a toast. “Italy it is then.”

─── ༺❀༻ ───

Six days later an email notification pops up on your phone as you’re sitting in McLaren’s hospitality, talking with Lando’s Mom. You glance at who it’s from, not wanting to be rude and get on your phone mid conversation, but when you see your boss’s contact you can’t help but open it. “I’m sorry, it’s from work.” Cisca waved you off, the conversation had only consisted of why they couldn’t stock better snacks in hospitality, and she knew if work was emailing you on a Sunday it had to be important.

You had emailed them Monday night requesting the time off and when they hadn’t responded by Friday you figured they were denying it. Or firing you for requesting more time off while currently being on a vacation. So to be getting this email on a Sunday had you worried, but as your eyes scanned the email you couldn’t hold back the excitement. By some higher power unbestowed to you, they had granted you the time off.

“Never seen someone so excited over an email from work.” Cisca teased.

“Yeah. Honestly thought I was getting fired, but they approved my time off for the Italy trip Lando and I are taking.” You leaned back in the chair, relief finally washing over you.

“Just the two of you?” Cisca had her suspicions about her son’s feelings towards you and your feelings towards him. She’d secretly hoped the two of you would end up together the first time she met you years ago. She honestly thought you were his girlfriend that day and was surprised when he introduced you as his friend. Then she thought maybe he was hiding your relationship because she had never known her son to bring around a female friend like he had you.

You had attended family dinners, a couple holidays, races, and so many other things that just didn’t seem normal to bring a friend to. They had become so accustomed to you being around that when he finally said that he was bringing home his girlfriend for everyone to meet and you didn’t walk through the door— everyone was a little shell shocked. The relationship didn’t last long and she had her theories as to why. To Cisca there was just no way the two of you didn’t have feelings for eachother, she could see it plain as day, and it drove her crazy that the two of you didn’t see it.

“Yeah. At first I thought he was asking me to go to Ibiza again with everyone and you know me, it’s not my thing. But then he said we could go anywhere I wanted and that it was just me and him, so I chose Italy.” You gathered your things, eager to tell Lando the good news before race time. “You raised a good man, Cisca. I couldn’t ask for a better person in my life than him.”

There’s a smile on her face as she watches you talk about Lando, how your smile never falters and how that twinkle in your eye seems to get brighter the more you talk about him. “Thank you honey. You had better go tell him, hadn’t you?”

“I’ll be back!”

Thankfully Lando’s not that hard to find, he’s in the garage looking over some data on the monitors with Will when you spot him. You stand back out of the way, waiting until he’s done, but as soon as he turns to walk away you’re racing towards him. Your arms flinging around him from behind and you can feel him tense under you, but when he hears your laughter his muscles relax.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Lando asks as he turns around to face you, his hands lingering on your hips.

“Hmmm. It may have something to do with work approving my time off.”

That same smile from the other night finds its way onto his face and he’s pulling you into his arms, the two of you swaying back and forth as he nuzzles his head into your neck. “I knew they would approve it, it was meant to be.” His voice tickles your neck as he speaks causing a giggle to escape past your lips.

“Can’t believe we get to spend a week together in Italy.” You state as he releases you from his grip.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, still not sure that he wouldn’t rather be going to Ibiza with his friends.”You’re sure you’re not gonna miss Ibiza?”

His fingers toy with the hem of your shirt as he speaks– his blue eyes boring into yours. “I’d miss you more if I went.” And there isn’t a single ounce of doubt in his words. If he ended up going to Ibiza without you, he’d be at a club wondering what you were doing. Eventually downing one too many shots to try and numb that annoying ache in his chest that forms when you aren’t around. The one that even with you around this week, he had felt occasionally at the idea of you not being able to go to Italy.

The idea of him spending his summer break back in England had crossed his mind a couple times, especially if that meant he got to spend time with you. Luckily though fate was on his side today and he wouldn’t have to deal with that ache for the foreseeable future.

You can feel the slight blush on your cheeks as you process what Lando had said to you and you pray he doesn’t notice it. Just him simply saying he’d miss you if he went to Ibiza should not have you blushing, but here recently it seemed like that was all he could do was make you blush.

A familiar Australian accent hits your ears and around the corner comes Oscar, his hand clamping down on Lando’s shoulder as he comes up behind him. “Y/N. Haven’t seen you in awhile.” His bunny teeth showing as he flashes you a smile.

Your mouth barely opens to speak before Lando’s speaking for you. “I know. She’s been too busy working back in London to come see her favorite person.”

“I’m really such a horrible friend. I’m so sorry Oscar, I really should make more time to see you. In fact, how’s Australia this time of year? I think I might come visit you.” The playful smirk on your face and Oscar’s laugh does nothing to tell Lando that you’re just joking and like a little kid he’s got his arms crossed across his chest with a slight pout on his face.

“Um. I think I’m your favorite person Y/N. Plus you can’t even go to Australia because we are going to Italy.”

Oscar and you can’t help but laugh at Lando’s dramatics, but Oscar wants to tease Lando even further. He knows how his older teammate feels about you, even if Lando won’t give the idea any time of day when Oscar brings it up. Lando had confided in Oscar about his idea to take you on a trip, but Oscar didn’t think he’d actually go through with it. “Italy? Who’s all going? Maybe Lily and I could tag along?”

Lando’s eyes widen at Oscar’s suggestion, mainly because he knows you’d jump at any opportunity to spend time with Lily and this trip was meant to be just for the two of you. “It’s just gonna be me and Y/N…” He trials off, trying to figure out how to nicely tell Oscar that he can’t come.

“There's a month between Singapore and Austin. We should all plan something for then.” You chime in. As much as you would love to spend time with Oscar and Lily, you really want to have this trip just be Lando and you.

Lando’s surprised at you turning down Oscar’s suggestion, but smiles and nods towards Oscar, agreeing with your idea. “Yeah that sounds like a good idea.” Oscar states, a small smirk on his face as he eyes the two of you, fully knowing that you’ll come back from Italy together. And if you don’t Oscar thinks he may have to knock some sense into his teammate.

The driver’s parade was set to start soon, so you tell Oscar you’ll see him around and give Lando a hug, knowing you won’t see him again until after the race. “I’ll see you later, yeah? Be safe and good luck.”

Lando’s grip on you lingers, not wanting to fully let you go just yet, but when they get the final warning that it’s time to go he reluctantly frees you. A small frown on his face as he heads towards the track and you go back to hospitality.

The two McLaren drivers stood side by side on the flatbed of the moving truck, smiles on their faces as they waved at the fans in the grandstands. “Never seen two friends like you and Y/N go on a trip together– alone.” Oscar’s voice is low, there’s an interview going on to his left, but he’s loud enough that Lando can hear him.

Lando keeps looking straight forward as he speaks. “Don’t know what you mean by that.”

“I think you fully know what I mean.”

Max, who was on the other side of Lando, had been eavesdropping the whole time, and couldn’t help but put his two cents in. “If you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about. I just want to say, do us all a favor and finally tell her how you feel.”

Lando shook his head at the two drivers. You two were just very close best friends, there wasn’t anything he needed to admit to you. It was just a trip that two best friends were going on and there was nothing more to it– right?

─── ༺❀༻ ───

A week and a half later your plane touches down in Naples and even though the flight from London is only around three hours you want nothing more than to just get to the hotel and relax.

The Uber ride from the airport to the hotel thankfully doesn’t take long and you have no issue with sitting down in the lobby of the hotel with all the luggage while Lando checks you two in. You do notice that it’s taking quite a long time for Lando to check in and as you glance up from your phone towards the reception desk you see him talking with the worker and showing her something on his phone. Then with a sigh and a shake of his head he turns on his heel back towards you.

“Everything alright?” You ask.

He slips his phone back into his pocket and grabs his suitcase. “I booked us a two bedroom suite and they told me that all they have available is a one bedroom. Even though I showed them the booking on my phone, someone is already in it. So, I’ll just take the couch and you can have the bed.”

This place was fancy, and Lando had undoubtedly paid a pretty penny for the two nights that you were staying here. You would have thought they would have comped the room or something for their mistake. But by the displeased look on his face it didn’t seem they offered him anything but a sorry for the inconvenience.

Even with the hotel screwing up the room, the one you end up with is amazing and as you enter the room your jaw drops slightly at it. You set your bags down and explore the room further, taking in all the beautiful artwork on the walls and the natural light streaming in through the floor to ceiling windows. You enter a door to your left and it’s the bedroom, which is even better than the main room, mainly because of the huge balcony that overlooks the sea.

There’s a gentle breeze in the air as you lean against the railing, taking in the view and the hustle and bustle from the surrounding area.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” Lando’s voice makes you jump, you were so lost in your own little world you didn’t even hear him come out onto the balcony. You nod your head in agreement as he slots himself beside you, mimicking your actions of leaning on the railing. “And it’s not even the best part of our trip.”

“You know you didn’t have to get such a nice room, we are only in Naples for two days.” As much as you try not to feel guilty about him paying for all of this, you do.

“And what did I say a couple weeks ago?”

A groan emits from you as you remember his words to you in Monaco. “You said to let you spoil me.”

“Exactly. I just want you to enjoy yourself and stop worrying about how much everything costs. We are here to relax and have fun, which means figuring out what we want to do tonight.”

You ponder your endless options and all you really want to do is sit on this balcony and enjoy the view, but your stomach growling tells you maybe dinner would be a good idea first. “We are in Italy– how about getting some pizza and then just come back here and relax?” Lando agrees and while you’re freshening up he looks up good pizza places within walking distance.

You two are just about ready to leave when there's a knock on the door, followed by room service!

A confused look is shared between you two, but when Lando looks through the peephole there stands a worker with a room service cart. He opens the door and is greeted with a smile from the employee.

“From the hotel as an apology about the room.” The employee hands Lando an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne nestled in it. “Have a nice rest of your stay.”

Lando looks back at you with an amused look on his face as the guy quickly leaves, the wheels of the cart squeaking as he hurries down the hall. “Well, we have something to drink on the balcony later.” Lando states as he sets the bucket down on the coffee table.

“Champagne and pizza? No thanks.” You see there’s a card attached to the bottle and as you open the envelope and read the words written, your cheeks turn scarlet.

“What does it say?” Lando questions, moving to stand behind you so he can read it too. His eyes scan the letter and he soon finds himself in the same state as you. He clears his throat as he steps back, suddenly feeling too close to you at the moment.

to the happy couple,

we are so deeply sorry about the mix up with rooms and we hope you can accept our apologies. we’ve sent a bottle of the finest champagne that you can get in naples and have comped any room service you may order during your stay. as always if you need anything please don’t hesitate to call the front desk and once again we sincerely apologize for our mistake. we hope you enjoy your stay here and the city of naples.

The letter isn’t spoken about, actually what you two were addressed as isn’t spoken about, but you both agree that their actions were nice. The walk to the pizza place is quiet, the both of you occasionally pointing out things that you think are interesting or pretty, but both of your minds are preoccupied with being mistaken for a couple. Anyone else would have laughed it off, but clearly not the two of you.

By the time you’re back at the hotel and sat on the balcony with the pizza and champagne your conversation had returned to normal. You teasing Lando about not even drinking the glass he had poured for himself and him complaining about you insisting that you get a pizza that has peppers on it.

“You know what would make this evening even better?” The pizza is long gone and the two of you are sat admiring the painting in the sky left behind from the sun.

“Some pink moscato?” There’s a grin on his face as he says it. If there’s one thing he knows you love, it’s a glass of pink moscato on a balcony with a view.

You try to hide the smile on your face as you glance over at him, but he’s caught you. “You know me too well Norris.”

“Should’ve told that employee that we wanted a ten dollar bottle of wine instead of that champagne.” Lando jokes.

“Thought you didn’t like it? That it was too sweet?”

He shuffles slightly in his seat, fully knowing that you’d caught on to his facade. “I may have grown to love it.” He admits quietly.

You’d known for a while, but hearing him say it was much more satisfying. “Yeah. Kinda figured it out last year when you started drinking more of it than me.”

Nighttime draws near and once you start yawning, so does Lando, and after the fourth round of yawning Lando states that it’s time for bed. The subject the two of you hadn’t discussed any further than what was said in the lobby earlier. The guilt started to eat at you as you brushed your teeth, he’d invited you and is paying for everything and he doesn’t even get to sleep in a bed? What kind of friend were you?

Lando was making the couch up as you walked out of the bathroom and for this being a luxury hotel that couch looked stiff and seemed to be more for show than actual comfort. He already had a bad back and it looked like sleeping on that couch was going to have him trying to find a chiropractor tomorrow instead of sightseeing. “Lan. You take the bed and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

He doesn’t even look back at you, still occupied with trying to make the couch somewhat comfortable. “No. I’ll be fine. You take the bed.”

“Lando.”

“Y/N.”

“Lando, look at me.” You knew he wasn’t going to budge with the whole couch thing, so you thought of the next best thing. The two of you sharing the bed. It was plenty big and truly it shouldn’t be that big of a deal if you two shared it. You were grown adults and bestfriends, no one should have to sleep on the couch.

His focus tears away from the couch and over to you, who’s already in bed and under the covers. “Look at how big this bed is.” Your body extends over to the other side trying to show him just how big the bed is. “Just sleep in the bed with me, there is plenty of room.”

Your offer takes him by surprise and he stills for a moment, he’d love nothing more than to climb into that bed right now, but a part of his brain is telling him not to. And he’s about ready to tell you no once again until he makes eye contact with you. Those damn eyes of yours could be used in interrogation rooms across the world, one look into them and he’s crumbling like a poorly built sandcastle. The gentle pat on the empty side of the bed is what flattens the sandcastle and he’s mumbling out an okay before sliding under the sheets next to you.

The two of you don’t know what to do for a moment, both still and flat on your backs under the sheets, like if you moved an inch the gremlin under the bed was going to get you. But eventually Lando turns on his side, mumbling out a goodnight as he pulls the comforter closer to him. You take his actions as a sign for you to roll over too and you figured that falling asleep wouldn’t be an issue after all the yawning earlier, but you were wrong. You tried counting sheep, tried laying on your back, tried anything you could think of to fall asleep and nothing worked. It wasn’t like there was a major time difference between here and London, it was literally only an hour, so unfortunately jet lag could not be to blame.

Lando hadn’t moved the whole time and you figured he fell asleep as soon as he turned over, but you were bored and going a little crazy because even though you were tired, you couldn’t fall asleep. “Lando.” You whispered, but got no response. “Lando. Are you awake?” You whisper a little louder this time, but still no response. So with a defeated sigh you roll back over and shut your eyes, praying that this time you can go to sleep. But within a matter of seconds you feel the bed shift and Lando’s voice echoing through the room.

“I’m awake.”

You roll back over— the two of you now facing each other. “Why didn’t you answer me a minute ago?”

“I was trying to go to sleep myself.”

“Oh sorry. I’ll go out to the other room and watch some TV or something.” You barely move an inch before Lando’s got his fingers wrapped around your forearm, gently pulling you back towards him.

“No, don't leave.”

You can feel your heartbeat quickening as you realize just how close the two of you are. The glow from the moon cascades through the balcony doors allowing you to make out the moles on his face and those pretty long eyelashes of his that make his already breathtaking eyes seem even more beautiful. Sometimes you think he has stars in his eyes from the way that they sparkle. And as the two of you lay here right now, you realize the only reason that the moonlight is flooding into the room is because she’s looking for her lost stars that have found a home in Lando’s eyes.

“You got any ideas on how to fall asleep? I’ve tried just about everything in the book.” For some reason you're whispering and you wonder if it’s from how close you are to Lando’s face or how suddenly nervous you are to be this close to Lando.

He’s silent for a moment, the logical and sane part of him screaming at him to not even suggest what he’s been thinking about ever since climbing under these sheets. The mere idea of it being the thing that had prevented him from being fast asleep by now. But he’s got you at literal fingertips length and he thinks there may not be another opportunity like this again. So– he acts with his heart and not his brain.

“Come here.” He’s moved onto his back with his arm outstretched towards you.

“Huh?” You know exactly what he’s insinuating, but you can’t actually believe that he is.

“You wanted an idea on how to fall asleep and this is my idea. I’ll get you to fall asleep in no time.

“You think us cuddling is gonna get me to fall asleep?” You definitely hadn’t wondered what it would be like to be wrapped up in Lando’s arms before. How it would feel to have his fingertips trance mindless patterns across your skin or have your head on his chest. He was your best friend, which meant those thoughts had never crossed your mind– right?

He shrugs, trying to hide the nervousness in his demeanor, the mere thought of you denying him right now was enough to have him on the next flight back to Monaco in the morning. He should have never put himself in this situation, but god as soon as he climbed into this bed all he wanted to do was have you wrapped up in his arms.

It had consumed his brain, and then consumed it even more because why was he having this desire to have such a tender moment with his best friend? Though his brain stops spiraling when he feels the bed shift and you’re suddenly tucking yourself into his side, arm slung over his torso, and your head laying on his chest. The same chest that his heart is about ready to beat out of and he prays you can’t hear how hard it’s working.

But as you both get settled and Lando’s heartbeat finally mellows out he realizes just how right this feels, like the two of you were matching puzzle pieces. Any other girl he had cuddled with before now seemed to feel wrong because as far as he was concerned, nothing felt better than this. It felt natural and easy and he found himself drawing absent minded patterns on your side where your shirt had bunched up.

He’d spend the rest of his life here in this moment with you if he could. And when he hears your slight snores something short circuits in his brain and he’s pressing a kiss to the top of your head mumbling out goodnight before he’s out like a light too. The moonlight blanketing over the two of you, who right now look more like lovers than best friends.

─── ༺❀༻ ───

The next morning you’re already up and ready for the day by the time Lando wakes up and he tries to hide the disappointment of not waking up next to you, already missing the feeling of having you so close. A feeling though nice, he knew it was one that he probably shouldn’t be feeling. He asks you if you slept well while he’s getting ready and you tell him yes, not going into very much detail, for your own sake and his.

The day is full of sightseeing and lots of walking, which is something that Lando likes to complain about. You visit Pompeii and a handful of other places for you and Lando to nerd out about and truly be tourists. You eat amazing food that Lando says his trainer will hate him for, but he justifies it with the excuse of being on vacation. Hundreds of pictures were taken, your phones already begging for more storage and it was only the first day of the trip. Lando even went as far as bringing an actual camera, stating that lando.jpg would be revived soon.

But in between the sightseeing, eating, and everything else– both of your brains immediately go back to the sleeping arrangements from last night. You both can’t stop thinking about it, but no one brings it up, almost like it’s something you should be ashamed of. No one wants to admit how right it felt to be in eachothers arms last night or how both of you probably had the best sleep of your lives.

You didn’t want to admit that when you woke up this morning to Lando spooning you, your stomach was doing flips over the realization that you had moved in the middle of the night and he had found his way back to you. So many thoughts and emotions running through your brains, yet you both think it’s better to just act like it's not a big deal.

Night falls once again and Lando crawls into bed next to you. You’re both absolutely spent after the eventful day you’ve had and Lando worries that you won’t need him to fall asleep, but his worries soon dissipate because you’re tucking yourself into his side as soon as he’s gotten himself comfortable. You’re like a moth to a flame– the consequences of these actions never even enter your mind as slowly feel yourself drifting off to sleep.

And when morning comes you don’t run away when you feel Lando’s arms around you, even with the butterflies making an appearance again. You enjoy your moment alone, the sun shining in through the windows, the sound of the city already alive, and the way Lando looks as he sleeps. It's truly a beautiful morning.

He wakes up not too long after you and there’s a funny feeling in his chest when he realizes that he’s gotten to wake up with you still in his arms. That you were the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes. It all just feels so natural and right, that once again no words are spoken about this very non-platonic thing that is happening between you two.

─── ༺❀༻ ───

“We’ve got a little bit a drive ahead of us today.” Lando states as he comes out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel. Water droplets are scattered across his tan skin, his damp curls falling slightly onto his forehead. You’re trying not to stare, but good lord how could anyone not.

“It’s only like an hour.” You're still sitting in bed, propped up against the headboard as you now watch him rummage through his suitcase.

He holds up a shirt and shorts, silently asking for your opinion. You give him a nod of approval and he heads back to the bathroom to get dressed, but he leaves the door slightly cracked so he can still talk to you. “Yeah it was an hour. I’ve canceled the driver and made some new plans for today.”

“New plans?” You raise your voice slightly so he can hear you.

“It’s a surprise.” He peeks his head around the slightly open door— a mischievous smile painted across his face, before disappearing behind it once more. “So you had better start getting ready.” He commands as the door fully opens, revealing a fully dressed Lando.

A few short moments later a domestic scene plays out in the bathroom mirror. The double sinks both occupied, various hair products, makeup, and other random items are scattered across the counter. You’re watching Lando through the mirror as he tries to wrangle the mop of curls on his head, but everytime you look away he’s watching you brush your teeth or do your skincare. And the occasional times your eyes do meet in the mirror you’re both like little kids, eyes immediately darting away with smiles on your faces and little giggles echoing through the bathroom.

“You gonna tell me what the surprise is?” Patience had never been your strong suit and thus knowing about surprises was like a form of torture to you.

“If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise now would it?” He’s still screwing with his hair, but he’s looking at you through the mirror.

“Oh come on, just tell me. Pretty pretty please?” You’ve come up behind him, your chin resting on his shoulder as you flash your best puppy dog eyes at him through the mirror. And for a split second Lando almost cracks– those puppy dog eyes working on him better than you would have ever thought.

“The faster we pack everything up, the faster you get the surprise.” He’s shocked his words come out smoothly, his brain still foggy from your pretty eyes and close contact.

Ten minutes later you’re walking out of the elevator and into the hotel lobby, where Lando tells you to wait while he goes outside for a moment. You assume the surprise is outside and so you try to peek and see what’s out there, but he’s coming back in before you can get a good look.

“Alright let’s go.”

You don’t see anything that you would consider surprise worthy as you walk out the doors, but then Lando leads you towards the cars parked outside the hotel and stops in front of a vintage yellow Ferrari. Your eyes dart back and forth between Lando and the car, unsure if he was just stopping to admire it or if you were going to be riding in it. He answers your unasked question by opening the passenger side door, motioning for you to get in.

“Is this the surprise? Where did you even get this car from?” Your eyes widening over the car itself and the fact that he’d gone through the trouble of even finding the car.

“It’s part of the surprise-” He’s got a smirk on his face as he speaks “and I have my connections.” He motions once again for you to get into the car and this time you don’t oblige. The leather seat soft under your legs as you sit down, the car was surely close to 60 years old, yet still looked brand new.

Lando puts the luggage in the trunk while you're examining all of the car’s little quirks and details while you wait.

“Ok, you ready?” Lando asks as he gets in the driver's seat.

“Gonna tell me the other part of the surprise?”

He sighs, he wanted you to figure it out on your own, but you were so persistent sometimes. “You know how you’ve always talked about wanting to drive along the coast of Italy?” You nod, a smile already forming on your face as you realize what he’s planned for you. “Well, instead of just taking the straight shot over, we’re gonna take the long way all along the Amalfi coast. And I figured it was only fitting that we do it in a Ferrari, considering we are in Italy after all.”

You can’t wipe the smile off your face as you stare at Lando from the passenger seat. Sometimes you wondered if he was even listening to you when you spoke, but then he pulls stuff like this and you know that he’s always listening– remembering things that you care about or like. “God, I don’t deserve you.”

Thankfully the car is still parked because you’re pulling Lando into a bone crushing hug, your cheek smushed up against the side of his head, a giggle emitting from him as he tries to hug you back.

“When you told me your work approved the time off, I knew for sure that this was one thing that I wanted to make happen. That same night I was online trying to find a car to rent for the day, but then I saw this one for sale…” His words trail off and your jaw drops at the realization, but in all reality you know it’s a very Lando thing to do.

“And now we’re sitting in your newest baby?”

He’s got a sheepish look on his face as he speaks. “As soon as I saw it I knew it was the perfect car for this. Plus it’s the ultimate vacation souvenir!”

“You’re crazy.” He actually couldn’t be more perfect.

“Yeah, but you love me.” He teases as he starts the engine.

“Unfortunately.”

─── ༺❀༻ ───

The long winding road along the coast provided scenery that was beyond your wildest dreams. It was serene and picturesque– like something straight out of a movie. The bright blue water on one side of the road and the white stone mountains on the other. The various tunnels that somehow had even more breathtaking views on the other side of them. The handful of towns that you had to drive through, each of them more charming than the last, you only wished you had enough time to stay a week in all of them.

As simple as this was, you would have been more than content with this trip if you went home tomorrow, not that you wanted to, it was just that sometimes the simple things in life meant more than anything lavish to you. You weren’t hard to please, all you needed was Lando singing along to some song on the radio, beautiful scenery, and the wind blowing in your hair for you to be the happiest girl in the world right now.

The whole trip your attention was divided between the coastal beauty and the beauty in the driver's seat. You couldn’t help but glance over ever so often at Lando, especially when you’d hear him start to sing along to a song. He just looked so ethereal sitting next to you, one hand on the steering wheel– the other resting between you two.

There was a moment where you felt the sudden urge to reach out and intertwine your fingers with his, a moment of insanity you’d thought. It surely had nothing to do with how sunkissed he looked from only being in the sun one day, or how the wind had made his curls the perfect amount of messy, or how you’d catch him looking over at you with a smile on his face.

If only you knew that Lando had been fighting the urge to reach out and grab your hand too. He’d never seen you so ecstatic over something as simple as going for a drive, but he’d drive this car till he ran out of road or gas, whichever came first, just to see that smile of yours. The way your eyes sparkled in the sunlight and how you giggled at his singing was just an added bonus, but all of them made his chest feel funny. He’d been around the world more times than he could count, seen so many breathtaking places, but right now none of those places compared to the beauty that was sitting next to him in this car.

You’re in your own little world so much that you don’t even realize you’ve made it to your destination until Lando’s putting the car in park in front of a very luxurious looking villa. “We’ve arrived.” Lando states in a sing-song voice.

“Is this when you tell me Max and everyone else are actually coming too?” You question, flabbergasted over the size of the house. And you can tell what he’s thinking just by his facial expression. “Lando this place is huge just for the two of us.”

He rolls his eyes before getting out of the car to get luggage. “It’s actually a lot smaller than you think.”

When you step foot into the two story villa it immediately has that Mediterranean coast charm with intricate tile floors, artwork that adorns the walls, and windows with the most gorgeous views– needles to say you’re in love.

Then you take in just how big the place is with it’s one too many bedrooms and bathrooms and various other rooms that you probably won’t even use. Lando’s words echo in your head as you explore the house some more, and there’s nothing small about this place at all. “You’re such a liar Lan.” Your words are playful as you walk through one of the many french doors in the house that leads out to the back.

“Lie? I would nev-”

“Oh my god!” He’s cut off by you realizing that the backyard of this villa is nothing shy of paradise. A massive pergola covered part of the back of the house with vibrant bougainvillea lining the top and hanging down the sides. Various other flowers and plants are scattered strategically around the area. Under the pergola there's an outdoor kitchen and a large glass dining table, clearly meant to host a group of people, not two. Further out there’s a pool with sunbeds lined down one side of it– a poolside bar on the other.

All of these things are great, but the real show stopper is the view that this place has. From the front of the house you can’t really tell just how close you are to the water, but from out back it’s a completely different view. There’s a separate sitting area slightly further out from the pool. It’s got a little pergola of its own with couches and chairs and one of those fancy rock fire pits and that is where you get the best view.

It’s like something out of a nature documentary– it’s so perfect that it almost seems fake. The sea is so close that you can hear the waves crashing against the rocks and it’s just endless bright blue water for days. You thought the view in Naples was pretty, but this was breathtaking.

“Knew you’d love this place.” Lando states as he comes up beside you, acting like he hadn’t been lingering behind you the whole time, admiring the view (you) from afar.

It was true though, Lando knew as soon as he saw this place online that it was the one. It didn’t matter that he paid an astronomical amount for it or that the house was way too big for just the two of you. All it took was for him to see the view to know you’d be the happiest girl in the world here.

He could picture you two sitting out here in the evening, watching the sun set over the coast, undoubtedly with a bottle of pink moscato. You’d end up drinking one too many glasses and your cheeks would get red and you’d get the giggles.

As Lando stood here– eyes never leaving the beautiful scene in front of him. He can’t help but feel that funny feeling in his chest over how radiant and happy you look. And he thinks that if this house was for sale he’d buy it in a heartbeat, if that meant he got to see you like this all the time.

A smile finds its way onto your face as you glance over at the guy you call your best friend. “You weren’t lying when you said you were gonna spoil me, huh?” You gently nudge him with your elbow, your smile growing even bigger at his response.

“Only the best for my favorite person.” His smile is equally as big as you lean your head on his shoulder and in that moment he thinks that maybe the reserve driver could just finish out the season and he could just stay here with you.

That night as you both head to your rooms there’s an obvious tension in the air. You’re both slowly making your ascent up the stairs and lingering in the hall, trying to milk every last second until you inevitably have to go into your separate rooms.

After so long though, you’re the first to cave as your hand reaches for the doorknob. Your door creaks open and you’re mumbling out goodnight lan, i’ll see you in the morning before entering the room. Although you don’t close the door behind you and Lando takes that as an invitation to linger in your doorway. He doesn’t need to speak for you to know he’s there, you can feel his presence, and subconsciously you’ve left that door open for him.

“Goodnight Y/N.” You’ve got your back turned to him as you're digging through your suitcase for pajamas, but you can hear the slight grin he has on his face as he speaks.

The sight of Lando as you turn around has butterflies erupting in your stomach and it makes you feel weird to be feeling those things about your best friend. He’s leaned up against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest and that grin that you’d sensed him having was still on his face as he looked at you. Your eyes scanned over him, focusing on little details like his hair still being wind tousled and how the tops of his cheeks were slightly burnt from the car ride today.

And for someone who claimed to not need a ton of sleep– he looked so sleepy as the two of you locked eyes. Those big blue eyes slowly blinking and drooping ever so slightly as his head now too rested against the door frame. He still donned the hoodie that you teased him about putting on earlier after his claims of it being chilly once the sun set, only adding to the sleepy look he had going on right now.

Someone had never looked so cozy and you wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up in his arms, but that wasn’t going to happen tonight. You will tell him goodnight again and he’ll close the door behind him before shuffling over to his room. Your mind will be preoccupied with him as you get ready for bed, the image of him in your doorway forever burned into your mind as you brush your teeth. As you crawl into bed you won’t think about how cold the sheets feel or how you want to be cuddled up to your best friend. You won’t think about how it’s been two hours that you’ve laid here and sleep has yet to greet you. And you certainly won’t think about how you’d be fast asleep right now if Lando was beside you.

But unfortunately you do think about all those things and you’ve exhausted every resource to try and distract you from it. It was different at the hotel when there was only one bed, but now with multiple bedrooms to choose from there was no reason for the two of you to sleep in the same bed. Lines were already blurring between you two without either of you knowing it and if you chose to go seek solace with Lando then those lines would blur even more.

But you didn’t know that your actions would eventually have consequences and seconds later you’re throwing the covers off of you with only one destination in mind– Lando’s room. The journey though, is short lived because as soon as you open your door you’re met with a wide eyed Lando, his fist frozen in the air like he was getting ready to knock on your door.

The frozen fist moves to rubbing the back of his neck as he speaks to you. “Sorry, was coming to see if you were still awake.”

“I was coming to see if you were up too.” He’s still got that hoodie on from earlier, but you noticed he’d changed out his shorts for boxers. His hair was even more messy and you’d wondered if he had even fallen asleep yet. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

Lando shrugs. “Not really– kept tossing and turning.” He acts like the reason he can’t go to sleep isn’t right in front of him as he rests his head on the familiar door frame.

“Yeah I can tell by your hair.” You tease. He just gives you a half assed smile and when he doesn’t tease you back that’s when you realize just how tired he is. “You want to watch some TV or something? ”

He shakes his head no. The only thing he wants to do is go to sleep, but how can he when you’re not next to him? It was embarrassing to admit that only after two nights of sharing the same bed that he couldn’t sleep on his own, but here he was. His big bed felt too empty and he realized that even if he slept in a twin sized bed it would still feel empty without you next to him.

Not to mention he’d found comfort in you being his personal heater at night. It was no secret that Lando ran cold, often seen sporting a jacket during race weekends while his teammate was in shorts. So with his personal heater gone, he’d resorted to wearing a hoodie to bed, which didn’t come close to holding a candle to you.

When he finally worked up the courage to get up and go to your room he was pleasantly surprised to find you up too and facing the same problem as him. A little sliver of him hoping that it was the exact same problem and that you couldn’t sleep without him.

For a split second you caught his eyes looking past you and towards your bed. He couldn’t have made it any more obvious, but if was actually hinting at what you thought he was hinting at, then you weren’t going to pass up on the opportunity. It wasn’t a coincidence that he had come to your door and that you both had trouble sleeping in separate beds. So, you act on impulse and tell him come on just sleep in here tonight and like a little kid who’s gotten scared of the thunder at night he’s crawling into your bed in an instant.

It’s like you two are magnets– immediately finding your way to each other under the sheets and it doesn’t take long for the both of you to finally fall asleep. And some time in the middle of the night Lando had shed his hoodie, no longer needing it with you pressed against him. When you two wake in the morning with the sun streaming through the windows and sleepy smiles plastered on your faces, there’s an unspoken agreement that even with the plethora of beds in this house, you two would be sleeping in the same one every night.

─── ༺❀༻ ───

Lando and you were best friends, nothing more. Nevermind the sharing a bed every night or the longing glances or the sometimes suggestive thoughts you had about him. So maybe your friendship wasn’t practical or normal, but there was nothing romantic going on between you two. It was something you had drilled into your head for some time now. You’d try to ignore the way your heart would speed up when you’d catch him looking at you or the way he always has to have physical contact with you. And any other crazy thoughts that you’d speculated about had always been pushed aside rather quickly. He was your best friend after all and once again nothing more.

Though over the course of the week you’d found yourself having a hard time in pushing aside those non platonic thoughts about Lando. There were instances you two had found yourselves in that you just couldn’t ignore.

─── ༺❀༻ ───

“What’s the plan for today?” You ask as the two of you are sitting outside the cutest little restaurant, enjoying brunch.

Lando finishes the last little bit of his eggs before answering you. “Well nothing that involves you getting behind a motor vehicle with the way you’ve been downing those bellinis.” You roll your eyes at his dramatics. Yes, you’d had your fair share of bellinis, but they were so damn good and there really wasn’t that much alcohol in them for it to be an issue. “How about we just see where the day takes us?”

“Well I already had the idea of renting jet skis in my head, but I guess we’ll do what you suggested.” You joke.

Now Lando’s the one to roll his eyes at you as he flags down the waiter for the check. He doesn’t even look at it when it’s brought over, he just hands his card over like it’s nothing. It’s something that you still aren’t used to him doing even after knowing him for so long and you’re sure he’s gotten ripped off more times than he could imagine.

He quickly signs for it once the waiter comes back and with his card back in his wallet you’re free to go. Except when you stand up all those bellinis hit you and you’re a little unsteady on your feet, something that Lando clocks immediately. You aren’t drunk, just buzzed, but Lando isn’t going to let you live this down. “You wanted to rent jet skis huh?” He teases as he wraps an arm around your waist to steady you.

“Think we still could to be honest.” You’re confident in your ability to walk on your own, but Lando insists on keeping his hold on you.

“Well I don’t want to waste a day at the hospital, so let’s just look around at the shops.”

You’d passed them on your way to brunch and Lando had promised you’d come back to them. They were cute little stores, each one specializing in certain things. You took your time in each one, feeling the silky material of some of the dresses, admiring the leather detailing on the handbags, and gawking at the dazzling jewelry in the displays. Everything was quite luxurious and your eyes couldn’t help but linger on a certain bag and bracelet, but the price tags were all you had to see to know they weren’t coming home with you.

Lando had been watching you the whole time, fully prepared to be your bag boy and was ready to pull out his wallet whenever he’d see you pick something up. But much to his disappointment, all you did was look and after going through all the stores you left empty handed. “You didn’t see anything you wanted?” Lando asks as you continue down the street.

You simply shrug your shoulders at him. “Nothing that I couldn’t live without.” He doesn’t press the matter anymore, fully knowing that he’d be coming back sometime this week to get you that bag and bracelet that you kept circling back to.

The streets are charming and bright. It’s a place that you can’t help but feel alive in, especially as the summer sun beats down on you, but the light breeze coming in off the sea makes it bearable. Your buzz was long gone, but Lando still insisted that you link your arm with his as you stroll down the streets– just in case. You don’t oblige to his request, enjoying the feeling of holding onto his solid bicep as the sound of him slightly humming the song that was playing at brunch fills your ears.

A sense of peacefulness washes over you and it’s at this moment that you don’t feel like you’re on the arm of the famous Formula 1 driver Lando Norris. He doesn’t have a million cameras on him or people flocking to him for an autograph. It’s just you and your best friend Lando– the boy who was gagging when you teased the idea of ordering fish at dinner last night or who you laid in bed with this morning, watching dumb Tiktoks until you were both in tears laughing. It was nice for once, to just have Lando.

You’re just about ready to circle back to the villa when you hear a woman shouting in Italian from down the street. You’re not anywhere near fluent, but you recognize some basic words and what you’ve heard has you pulling Lando towards the voice.

Fior! Bei Fiori!

At the end of the street there stood the lady, who had a cart of the most vibrant fresh flowers. When she spotted the two of you approaching, a smile painted itself across her face. “I think your pretty girl deserves some flowers, don’t you?”

The corners of your mouth turn upwards and a smile is painted across your face. You can feel your cheeks getting warm at her statement, at the implication that you were Lando’s, but it’s his response that makes them comparable to the roses found on the cart.

Lando feels his chest get tight over the lady assuming the two of you were together. It’s nothing new, for people to assume that he’s with a girl just because he’s seen with one. Though for some reason when someone says it about you, it gets a reaction out of him. He’s grinning as he looks at you and then back to the sweet old lady. “You’re right, my pretty girl does deserve some flowers.”

The butterflies that erupted in your stomach at his words were embarrassing and not the appropriate reaction to be having over your best friend, but his comment wasn’t very platonic either. You’re blushing and grinning, probably very easily comparable to a school girl at the moment. He’s got a smug look on his face as he hands you of course the biggest bouquet the lady had. It’s truly a beautiful bouquet and it smells divine, it had anything you could have gotten at the shops beaten by a mile.

As you head back towards the villa you can’t wipe the smile off your face and you can’t stop thinking about my pretty girl. The words shamelessly repeating over and over again in your head. “So you think I’m pretty huh?” You tease.

Now Lando’s the one to blush and he hopes you just think it’s just from the heat and sun as you look at him. “Of course I do. I’d have to be blind to not think so.” He’s sincere with his words, he truly thinks you’re one of the most breathtaking women he’s ever met– intellectually and physically.

You lean your head on his arm, the same one you’ve still wrapped yourself around. “You sure know how to swoon 'em.”

“You’re my best friend. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

And for the first time, for both of you, it feels weird and almost stings to hear the word best friend said out loud. Because deep down you know you’re way more than that.

─── ༺❀༻ ───

Although you weren’t that much of a party girl you didn’t mind going out every once in a while. So when Lando suggested going out to one of the bars tonight it didn’t seem like a bad idea. You’d done your fair share of relaxing and to you that meant a night out deserved to be had.

With a final spritz of your perfume you’re ready to go and as you looked in the mirror one last time you couldn’t help but think damn, I look good. You found Lando waiting for you in the foyer, his head lifting up from his phone at the sound of your heels clicking down the stairs. “Might want to close your mouth before you attract flies Lan.” He hadn’t even realized he was in that much of a trance until you said something, he could feel his cheeks getting warm at getting caught.

You hook your arm with his as he leads you out the front door. “Sorry, you just look unreal tonight.”

“Well you don’t look too bad yourself.” He’d chosen his tried and true white button up, leaving the first few buttons undone, which revealed even more of his gorgeous tanned skin. How someone could make something as simple as a white button up shirt look so good was beyond you, but it was clearly something he was skilled at.

The bar you end up at is relatively small and you realize it must be the most popular one with how packed it is. It’s on the coast and there’s a gorgeous outdoor area that you are immediately drawn to, mainly because there’s slightly less people out here. It’s still a good time though and the people are somehow even more rowdy out here and you wonder if it’s the fresh air.

You’ve danced, drank, laughed, talked, everything you could think of on a night out. It's been nice, especially doing it all with Lando, who somehow through the course of the night has undone more buttons on his shirt and you think he might as well just undo them all. It’s clearly getting late from how the crowd is slowly starting to thin out, but you two are still having a ball, and you figure you’ll stay till they kick you out.

Lando’s gone inside to get you both another drink, which he easily could have gotten from the bartender out here, but he claimed that the guy didn’t know what he was doing. While you wait you venture off to a far corner of the patio that’s somewhat empty. There’s a couple people sitting in chairs sharing a cigarette, but other than that you’re alone. Even in the dark the view is amazing and as you lean on the railing a nice breeze comes in off the water. It’s relaxing and nice, especially when you’re that sticky kind of sweaty and a little more drunk than you realize.

“Absolutely beautiful.” You jump at the unfamiliar, yet familiar voice. It had been a minute since you’d heard another British accent besides Lando’s. When you turn around to put a face to the voice you aren’t expecting to see such a gorgeous man standing there. He’s really the whole package– stunning blue eyes, pretty smile, fluffy light brown hair, nice facial hair.

“Uh- yeah it is.” You assumed he was talking about the view.

“Can I join you?”

He’s cute and you wouldn’t mind some company, so you tell him yes.

“Where’d your boyfriend run off to?” He asks as he nurses his Corona.

“He’s not my boyfriend, but I’m not wrong in assuming you know who he is, right?” This guy is in his twenties and British, if he didn’t know who Lando was then he had to be living under a rock.

He takes a swig of his beer before responding. “I know who he is.”

You scoff, there was a big possibility that he was using you to get to meet Lando, it was something you’d dealt with many times before. Guys showing interest in you only in hopes of becoming Lando’s friend or even worse girls who would befriend you only to try and get with Lando. You weren’t some step on the ladder that led to Lando, you were your own person with feelings and a life, who deserved to have people like you for you, not who you knew.

Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s the fact that you’re done being led on by people, but either way you confront the guy about it. “Are you using me to get to him?”

You hear him laugh a little and it lights a fire in you, but his words extinguish it before it gets out of control. “I was brave enough to come over here and willingly flirt with you before I even knew if he was your boyfriend or not. If I was trying to use you to get to him, I don’t think that would be a good plan. Which now that I know you’re not his girlfriend, kinda makes me think he’s an idiot. How could he have a girl like you in his life and not be madly in love with you?”

Your brain is fuzzy as you’re trying to process what he’s said. “Sorry wait- you were flirting with me?”

He’s got a cheeky grin on his face and he lets out a chuckle at your cluelessness. “When I said ‘absolutely beautiful’ I wasn’t talking about the view.”

“Oh.” You’d thought it was kind of weird for him to just randomly say that about the view, but for it to be aimed towards you was the last thing you had thought of. “Well, flirt all you want then.”

Not only did this place have one bartender that was incompetent, it seemed like all of them were. Lando had waited for what seemed like ages for a beer and a vodka cranberry. It wasn’t even that busy at the bar for it to be taking so long and at one point he contemplated just going behind the bar and doing it himself. By the time he finally got them he was surprised you hadn’t come looking for him, but when he made his way out onto the patio he saw exactly why you hadn’t.

Over in the corner Lando sees you doubled over laughing with some guy as he watches from afar. His grip on the glasses gets tighter as he sees you place your hand on the guy's arm. The tightness in his chest increases the longer he stands here and watches. It bothers him more than he cares to admit– to see you with some random guy. To hear that laugh of yours and him not being the source of it is driving him crazy. But what really sends him over the edge is when the guy tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear and without a second thought he’s storming over there.

Lando tries to play it cool as he approaches and he’s glad he’s got these drinks to use as an excuse. Your mid conversation when Lando interrupts, but he doesn’t care one bit. “Here’s your drink.” He says as he pushes the slightly watered down glass towards you.

“Oh thanks Lan.” You flash him a smile, but his face is emotionless and the fun light hearted atmosphere has suddenly turned awkward. For some reason you feel like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t have. “Um, Lando this is-” You remember at that moment that you hadn’t even asked the guy his name, which to you makes this even more awkward.

“Harry.”

“Right. Lando, this is Harry.” You motion between the two men. “Harry, this is Lando.”

Harry extends a hand out to Lando and they very awkwardly shake hands. “Nice to meet you mate.”

Lando only nods his head at him before turning his focus back to you. “I think we should get going, they are gonna close soon.”

You think he’s joking, considering he’d waited all that time to get these drinks, and now he suddenly wants to leave. “I just got my drink, can we at least stay until I finish it?” It also feels rude to just abruptly leave in the middle of the conversation that you were enjoying with Harry. But Lando doesn’t know how to hide his emotions very well and by the look on his face you know he’s being serious.

“Well you can stay, but I’m leaving.” He knows he shouldn’t leave you alone with some guy you just met, but god he doesn’t think he can stand here and watch you flirt with him anymore than he already has. So, without hearing your response he starts making his way towards the exit.

A regretful look washes across your face as you look at Harry. “That was so rude of him, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s up with him, he never acts like that.” You take a big swig of your drink, fully knowing dealing with Lando is gonna be a pain. “It was really nice talking to you, but I better go hunt him down.”

He shrugs, clearly not as upset over this whole situation as Lando or you are. “No biggie, I’m sure we’ll see each other around. It’s a small place.” You bid him goodbye, but you don’t get very far before he’s hollering. “Can I at least get your Instagram?” Which has you coming back and quickly exchanging usernames before you're off again to find Lando.

You run into him in the bar and it looks like he was coming back out towards the patio. A look of relief washes over him when he sees you and he’s leading you away from the loud music and out the front exit before either of you can say anything. Only once the bass of the music is a faint sound in the distance does Lando speak up. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone with that guy. I was coming back in when you found me.”

“I appreciate you looking out for me, but you were kinda rude to him for no reason.”

Guess you were diving in head first with this.

Lando stops walking and turns to face you, a confused look on his face. “I wasn’t being rude.”

“Yes you were. We were having a conversation and you just butted in and demanded we leave. Not to mention you wouldn’t even speak to him. He was nice, you would have liked him if you gave him the time of day.”

“You barely know the guy, you talked to him for what ten-fifteen minutes? I just didn’t have a good feeling about him.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his dumb excuse. He shook the guy's hand and didn’t get a good feeling about him? Bullshit. “Well if you didn’t have a good feeling about him then why’d you leave me with him?” He’d started to walk again, but stopped dead in his tracks at your words, spinning on his heel to face you once again.

“I already told you I regretted leaving you. I just had to get out of there for a second.”

“Why?” You were being adamant, your arms crossed across your chest as you waited for his answer.

He knew exactly why, but he couldn’t tell you that, he hadn’t even fully accepted it himself. “I don’t know Y/N.”

You’re getting frustrated with him and these damn heels that you chose to wear are not making your mood any better. “There’s a reason for everything, Lando. How would you like it if I acted like you did tonight with a girl you were talking to? You’d be livid.”

He completely ignores your accusation and turns the conversation in another direction. It had been itching at him to know if you were just being nice or if you were actually interested in the guy, so he plucked up the courage to ask. “So you were flirting with him?”

The look on your face is one of pure confusion, but your tone is nothing but shitty. “I’m not sure how you jumped to that conclusion from what I said or why it’s really any of your concern, but yeah it was just some harmless flirting. I’m sorry for having a little fun!” You were thankful that it was late enough for the street to be relatively empty, the last thing that needed to happen was pictures or a video getting out of you two arguing. You were sure there were already rumors about you two being on vacation together, you could only imagine how this would be misconstrued.

Hearing that his best friend was potentially interested in someone else had his head spinning and he could no longer blame his reactions on the alcohol. He couldn’t lie to himself anymore, ignore the way his heart raced when he looked at you. Or how he loved hearing that old lady call you his girl the other day.

It had been building up– festering almost this whole week and maybe subconsciously he wanted to go on this trip with you to see if there was some truth to what everyone had teased him about. He just didn’t think it would actually be true. Or that at two in the morning on a dimly lit street in Italy, during an argument, he would finally accept that he was in love with you.

But even with him realizing he’s in love with you, that doesn’t stop him from being an absolute idiot. “He was probably just using you to get to me.” Lando immediately regrets what he said as soon as it comes out of his mouth. He knows that's a sore subject for you and the look of hurt on your face makes his stomach churn.

“Now you’re just being mean.” You’re sure it’s a mixture of things that are contributing to the salty tears welling up in your eyes at the moment, but it’s Lando’s comment that actually makes them fall. You’re storming off before he can say anything, wishing you would have just stayed at the bar with Harry.

Lando knows he’s an idiot, but he also knows he’s the one who lit the match, which means he’s gotta be the one to put it out. “Y/N come on. I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have said that.” He catches up with you rather quickly, your heels slowing you down.

“Just leave me be Lando.”

“Y/N. Stop walking for just a minute.” He’s grabbing at your arm, trying to halt your movement.

You stop and face him and for what it’s worth he does look sorry, but that doesn’t change how you feel. “What? You want to poke fun at me some more?”

“No I-”

“You know I was just having a little harmless fun with that guy, like you said I talked to him for what? Fifteen minutes? Nothing was going to come out of it. But is it really that far-fetched of an idea for a guy to actually be interested in me just for me? Am I that undesirable and unlovable for it to seem like a reality? Or was he like everyone else who’s used me and threw me away as soon as they got their five minutes of the almighty Lando Norris experience?”

The tears that slide down your cheeks are a mixture of anger and embarrassment and maybe you were being a little dramatic. Perhaps the multiple drinks you’d consumed weren’t helping either, but when the person you care about the most says something like that, something you’d confided in him about, it hurts.

Lando feels his heart break to hear you talk about yourself like that. All he wants to do is to scream out that you’re not undesirable or unlovable. He’s wanted you and loved you for some time now, the moment it started he’s not sure, but he knows it didn’t happen overnight. It’s always been there– he was just too blind to see it.

He’s not entirely sure on how to make this right, he knows he was an ass, but he also knows he can’t take back what’s been said. The worst part is that he knows exactly how you feel and somehow he still thought that was a good thing to throw in your face– all because he was jealous. He could deal with people trying to use him, he’d developed a sixth sense for them and never let it get too far, but you were too kind. Your big heart and trusting of others had gotten you burned one too many times and it hurt Lando even more to know that all that had happened because of him.

“I should have never said that to you. I know first hand how it feels to have people use me and the only reason you’ve had to deal with that is because of me. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Your sniffles fill the night air as you try to calm yourself down. While people used you to get to Lando, at least they didn’t want to be your friend to leech off your fame. Use you for your money and generosity, expecting paddock passes and some lavish lifestyle. People saw Lando as an object rather than a person more times than not. While your feelings were valid and Lando was still an ass for saying that, you realized to be in his shoes was worse. So, you wipe away your tears and accept his apology indirectly. “Think we’ve only got each other at this point.”

His voice is soft as he approaches you, his hand reaching up to brush a stray piece of hair out of your face. “Don’t think I need anyone else but you.”

The tender moment has you turning to putty in his hands– the argument pushed to the back of your mind. His hand moves to cup your face and his tumb brushes gently across your cheek. You feel like time has frozen in this moment and for a split second you swear he looks at your lips, like he’s going to kiss you. The fact that this is your best friend is no concern to you at the moment. Then the moment between you two is ruined just as fast as it began, the sound of a very loud and drunk group of people leaving the bar up the street brings you both back to reality.

You back away from each other slowly, like you weren’t sure exactly what had just almost happened. You’d already resorted to blaming it on both of your emotions still running wild and the alcohol still coursing through your veins. The group of people are getting closer, their obnoxious singing getting louder as each second passes. They might not even know who Lando is, but you aren’t in the mood to wait around and find out, the last thing you want to deal with right now is drunk fans. “We’ve had too much to drink, my head and feet hurt. Let’s go home.” You grumble as you begin the trek home once again, your feet aching more and more with each step.

Lando stops for a moment and kicks off his shoes, he couldn’t let you walk in pain the whole way home. Especially after the pain he had caused moments ago. “Here put these on, your feet are killing you.” He hands you the white sneakers before squatting down in front of you to help you get your heels off.

Your feet already thank you as you slip on the oversized shoes that clomp on the stone street. And like a magnet you find yourself wrapping your arm around his as you walk down the street. You’re sure you two are a sight–you in shoes that are way too big and Lando only in socks as he holds your heels for you.

“You know you’re still an ass.” You tell him as you lean your head on his shoulder.

“I know.”

“You know you aren’t unloveable.” He hopes you know he’s being sincere, your words still replaying in his mind as you walk.

“I know.”

By the time you make it back to the villa you’re both exhausted. The alcohol, the argument, that moment between you two, the walk home– you were sure tomorrow morning would be a rough one. There aren’t many words spoken as you get ready for bed and as you slide under the covers next to Lando you can’t shake something from your mind from tonight, and it wasn’t the argument.

It was the fact that during the whole time you were chatting with Harry, you couldn’t help but compare him to Lando. There wasn’t the same sparkle in his eye like Lando, his smile wasn’t the same, his laugh. It seemed like everything that you noticed about this guy came second best to Lando. Sure you were having fun and he was nice, but not once had the thought of Lando slipped your mind. And even right now, with Lando next to you, you’re still somehow thinking about him.

It didn’t take long for Lando to fall asleep and you were on the verge of it when your phone went off on the nightstand. Usually, you would just ignore it, but something in you told you to see what it was.

harryinsta is now following you

You then see that he had sent you a DM and you’re expecting it to be about meeting up some time, which you were going to politely decline, but it’s quite the opposite.

harryintsa: i must have been mistaken earlier. lando's not an idiot.

yourinsta: huh?

harryinsta: he’s in love with you lol

Your heart nearly beats out of your chest as you read the message over and over again. Lando wasn’t in love with you, was he? Sure you’d heard it from just about everyone in your life that you two were in love with each other, but you always thought it was silly. You guys were just best friends is what you would always say, but to hear it come from a literal stranger was different.

You couldn’t lie that you hadn’t recently had your moments of perhaps thinking that he did, though you’d always talk yourself out of the idea. Although, if he was in love with you that may explain his behavior tonight. Or maybe it was just the alcohol like you’d originally thought. Then the tender moment you two shared entered your mind and suddenly the gears in your head are working overtime.

You locked your phone and sat it back down on the nightstand. Just from a simple DM you’d gone from being dead tired to now being wide awake– staring at the ceiling. You’re not sure how much time had passed as you laid there over analyzing every interaction with Lando. You were struggling enough trying to figure out the things you had recently felt about Lando, let alone the possibility that he was in love with you. All you knew for sure was that things weren’t the same between you two, you’d felt a shift when you were with him in Monaco before the Belgium GP. It had only amplified during this trip and you had a feeling that by the end of it things would be different.

─── ༺❀༻ ───

Two days later you’re sunbathing on a comfy lounger on the beach, while Lando’s out in the water doing god knows what. You’d given up on watching him a while ago, deciding instead to be productive and try to catch up to Lando’s tan level. Which, after laying here for some time now, it seemed impossible. That boy could be in the sun for a day and have a glowing tan– you not so much.

Moments later you think a cloud has passed in front of the sun, but when you feel cool water droplets on your hot skin you peek open one eye to find a wet and grinning Lando standing over you. “Hi.”

“Hi.” You greet him back as you sit up, your smile matching his. “Did you have fun out there?”

“I had a lot of fun and the water felt amazing. You should have got in.”

“I will later.” You notice he’s got one of his hands behind his back like he’s hiding something. “Lan, what have you got?” He tries to play dumb for a moment, trying to wind you up, but he eventually caves and pulls a plastic pail from behind his back. “Please don’t tell me you stole that from a kid.” Your half joking and half being serious, because where the hell did he get that from?

“I did not steal it from a kid– I borrowed it.” The smile on his face never falls as he continues to speak. “They had a bunch of them. I don't think they’ll miss it. Plus I needed something to put your present in.”

You cock an eyebrow at him, curiosity written all over your face. “My present?”

He’s smiling so hard as he sits down at the end of the lounger that you think this must be the best present in the world. Seconds later the pail is turned upside down and out falls the prettiest seashells. Your heart swells when you realize all that time he had spent out in the water he was looking for shells– for you. There’s a light pink one that catches your eye and Lando notices when you reach for it.

“Knew you’d like that one.”

Of course he knew that, sometimes you think he knows you better than you know yourself. “Can’t believe you spent all that time finding them.”

He shrugs like it’s an everyday thing. “I knew it would make you happy, which meant I enjoyed doing it. Really only took me so long because I wanted them all to be perfect for you.”

The sun beating down on you feels cold with how hard you’re blushing. “You’re my favorite person, you know that?”

Lando starts to get shy when you get sappy, like he hadn’t just said the sweetest thing a second ago. He’s smiling, but focuses on carefully putting the shells back into the pail. “You’re my favorite person too.”

A while later you decide to open up the umbrella between the two loungers. You had chosen to give up on the tanning lifestyle and instead dive into a new book. While Lando was fast asleep on the lounger next to you, apparently all that hunting for shells had worn him out.

You’d noticed out of the corner of your eye awhile ago that a little boy kept glancing over in your direction, specifically at Lando. You knew he had to have been a fan or he was the kid Lando stole the pail from. The nervous glances back and forth tell you that thankfully he’s a fan and you think it’s the cutest thing. You’re in the middle of considering waking Lando up so the boy could come over when you hear a groan that is undoubtedly Lando awaking from his slumber.

“What are you looking at?” He asks as he rubs his eyes.

You nod your head in the direction of the boy who’s just seen that Lando is awake and is practically bouncing with glee. “Think you may have a fan.”

A big grin spreads across Lando’s face as he sees the little boy. Lando loved meeting all his fans, but meeting the kids was his favorite. He thinks a big part of the reason he always makes sure to find time for the younger fans was because he was that kid once. Before he was ever F1 driver Lando Norris, he was just a kid who finally got the chance to meet their idol and he knows that picture or an autograph means the world to them

Lando motions for the boy to come over and he’s instantly tugging on his Mom’s shirt to get her to come with him. She gives you guys a questioning look and when Lando motions again they both come over.

The little boy’s Italian accent is the cutest thing ever as he greets you two and you can tell just how much it means to him to be talking to Lando.

“What’s your name?” Lando asks as he signs a beach towel of all things.

“Luca and I’m seven!”

“Seven is a great age. You know I started karting when I was seven!”

Luca’s eyes get as wide as saucers as he glances back at his Mom, who is already shutting down any talk of Luca karting. “I told you possibly next year. You’re still my little baby. I don't want you getting hurt!”

Lando gives the Mom an apologetic look. “How about a picture?” Which easily takes Luca’s attention away from karting, as he’s already at Lando’s side with a big smile on his face before his Mom has her phone out.

They take a couple pictures and high fives are exchanged throughout their interaction. The whole thing is very sweet and you can’t help but look on in adoration, fully knowing that Lando would make a great Father one day.

You see that Luca keeps looking over at you and then back to Lando, but you don’t pay that much mind to it. You figured he was just nervous or something, but what comes out of his mouth next takes you by surprise.

“Your girlfriend is very pretty.”

You feel your heart skip a beat and you glance over at Lando to see what his reaction is. You prepare yourself for the worst, but in true Lando fashion he’s all smiles. In fact he’s sporting that full face smile of his and it makes you feel funny.

“Thank you buddy, I think so too.” He looks over at you with nothing but love in his eyes and you’re immediately looking away like some shy school girl.

Thankfully, the Mom comes to your aid and quickly changes the subject. “Ok Luca, you’ve bothered them enough. We should get back to our spot. Thank them for their time.”

His cute little voice mutters out grazie as he gives you a small wave goodbye.

“It was very nice to meet you, Luca.” Lando bids him farewell and you both wave back at the little boy.

As soon as they’re gone you’re immediately shoving your face back into your book, you don’t even want to talk about what had just happened. It was nothing really to be so worked up over, it was just a little kid who saw two people together and assumed they were together. It happens all the time. But it is a big deal when you find yourself liking being referred to as Lando’s girlfriend. It doesn’t help when neither of you deny it and correct the person. Lando likes to play into it and you love it too much to say anything.

Ever since getting that DM the other night your mind had been in a whirlwind over how Lando felt about you and how you felt about him. Hell you can’t even look at him right now, you’re so in your head that you’ve been staring at the same page for the last five minutes. You just wished the book you were reading could tell you how to come to terms with the fact that you’re in love with your best friend.

It was something you’d realized the other night while you were awake overthinking everything. Those feelings had always been there, but you had just pushed them aside, ignoring every little butterfly or rapid heartbeat. When they actually turned into romantic feelings you have no clue because as far as you knew, you and Lando had always been like this.

You two just dove in head first into the co-dependent friendship that was more like a relationship lifestyle. All those times you’d gone to his parents house for family dinners and holidays, both of you attached at the hip. How he wanted to ask you to move to Monaco with him and then almost didn’t even move because he said he’d miss you too much. The group vacations that always ended up with you two going off and doing your own thing. The texts from him every Wednesday before a race asking if he needed to get you a paddock pass and a flight. This trip in particular– sleeping in the same bed when you don’t have to, the cuddling, the getting mistaken for a couple three times so far, the fact that it was just you two alone on the trip.

It was all there the whole time and you wondered how you could have been so blind to not realize it sooner. You were in love with him. You loved his pretty eyes and curls and the way his real laugh only seemed to come out around you. You loved his big heart and his caring nature and sometimes you thought he was too nice to be a Formula 1 driver.

You loved everything about him and truth be told it made your stomach hurt from how much you loved him. You wanted to actually be his and be able to kiss those pink lips that you sometimes found yourself staring at. When people said you were his girlfriend you wanted it to actually be true and not have it be Lando just playing along. You were so down bad that you prayed that Harry was right and that Lando was actually in love with you too.

While you were freaking out, so was Lando. When you immediately went back to reading your book and not speaking a word, he figured he had weirded you out by basically implying that you were his girlfriend. He just figured it was easier to go along with what the kid thought than explain that you weren’t his girlfriend, but god does he wish you were. He didn’t know what to say to try and test the waters because he knew whatever he would say would come out awkward and he didn’t want to make things worse. So, once again it’s not talked about and you two pretend that it didn’t happen when you finally speak again.

─── ༺❀༻ ───

It’s the last day of the trip and you’re dreading going back to reality and away from this little slice of heaven. The only thing you have to look forward to is the supposed fancy dinner that Lando had planned for tonight, which was what you were currently getting ready for. Music plays through your phone and you softly sing along as you do your makeup. When you look up after digging in your makeup bag you spot Lando in the mirror, leaning against the door frame behind you. Your eyes lower and you see that he’s holding two gift bags.

"Those better be for your Mom.” You state as you put the finishing touches on your makeup.

“I think we both know they aren’t.” He sees you roll your eyes in the mirror and it only makes him want to spoil you more. “It’s our last day, I think you deserve a parting gift.”

You turn to face him as he makes his way over to you. “I haven’t gotten you a single thing this whole time. It makes me feel bad.”

Lando only shakes his head at you. “You being here with me is the best gift you could have ever gotten me. I truly don’t need anything else.” He hands you the bags. “Now open them please.”

A small smile finds its way onto your face as you take the bags from him. You decide to open the bigger bag first and once you pull out the tissue paper you know exactly what it is. It’s still in its dust bag, but you see the branding and your jaw is dropping before you even see the actual thing. “You did not get me this bag Lando!” You exclaim as you remove the dust bag and see that it’s the same bag you were eyeing at the store the other day.

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Saw you eyeing it and knew I had to get it for you and before you say anything else open the other present.”

You set the handbag down and grab the smaller gift trying to figure out what else he could have possibly gotten you. When you open it and see the bracelet you were also looking at the other day you’re at a loss for words. “Lando Norris!” You could slap him, hug him, kiss him, and yell at him all at once. He’d dropped probably close to six grand on these two gifts and your head is spinning at the thought of it.

“Don’t even say anything about the price. I know you’re thinking it, but I wouldn’t have bought you them if I couldn’t afford it. I wanted you to have them, you deserve nice things.” You deserved a lot more than a handbag and a bracelet, but what he thought you deserved money couldn’t buy.

You know there's no use in fighting him on it, but you still feel bad that he just spends all this money on you. He takes the bracelet from the box and fastens it around your wrist, the diamonds glittering in the light as you move it around. It’s truly stunning and the handbag will go great with your outfit tonight. As soon as you two make eye contact again you’re pulling him into a bone crushing hug and you two stay like that for probably longer than necessary. “Thank you a million times Lan. I love them both so much.”

It’s time to leave for dinner shortly after that and when you arrive at the restaurant the host guides you back to a secluded corner. It’s a very romantic ambiance and you can’t help but feel like you’re on a date, which wouldn’t be a horrible thing. Moments later a waiter comes over with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. “It’s on the house– for the special couple.”

There it is again and it seems like with each time it happens it makes your heart race even more. Lando shifts in his seat and you focus on the rising bubbles in the glasses as the waiter pours the champagne. Lando tells him thank you and your attention moves to the menu.

“What are you thinking about getting?” You ask, ignoring the obvious.

“Probably the steak.” He grabs the flute of champagne and takes a drink. “What was that? The fourth time now?”

You know exactly what he’s talking about, but you’re surprised he’s decided to talk about it. “Yeah it was.” You set the menu down and grab the other flute. “Think I’ll get the steak too.”

Dinner actually turns out to be an amazing time. The food is decadent and Lando and you have good conversations that don’t revolve around you two being mistaken for a couple or being in love with each other. When the waiter brings the bill you’re quite sad because that just means this trip is that much closer to being over.

You take your time heading back to the villa, trying to savor every last moment you’ve got here. The sun was low in the sky by the time you get back and you tell Lando just how you want to spend your final evening in Italy. You hurry and change into comfier clothes and take off all your makeup before heading to the spot with the best view out back. Lando makes his way out there not too long after you, but he’s got one more surprise for you.

“Don’t think the evening or this trip would be complete without this now would it?” He pulls a bottle of pink moscato from behind his back along with two wine glasses.

He knew you too well, but it was something you loved dearly about him. “You’re a man after my heart Norris.”

He hands you a glass as he sits down next to you, the sun just beginning to set on the horizon. “I try.”

There’s a comfortable silence between you two for a while and the only sound to be heard is from the waves below. It feels like paradise sitting here with this amazing view and the guy you love next to you. It’s probably boring to the majority of people, but this was everything you could ask for and more and the perfect way to end this amazing trip. You lean in closer to Lando, your head resting on his shoulder as he wraps his arm around you. A content sigh escapes past your lips as his thumb starts to draw mindless circles on your arm.

“Thank you again for everything. This trip was amazing and I’m glad we got to go together– just you and me.”

“I’m glad too. It was probably the best summer break trip I’ve had. Don’t think Ibiza will be seeing me for a while.”

You’re not even looking at him, but you can sense the smile on his face and you can’t help but laugh at his lie. “Yeah, and I don’t like pink moscato.”

“Alright so Ibiza will inevitably see me, but not as much as Italy.” He pauses for a moment, glancing down at you still resting on his shoulder, his heart swelling just by looking at you. “I think this may be our place now, just for the two of us.” His voice is soft when he says it, like he’s not sure if he wanted to say it outloud.

You lift your head up and are met with his piercing blue eyes staring back at you. He looked radiant as golden hour cascades over him and it’s like you’re in a trance as you look at him. You take in every last bit of him, all the little details about him that you’ve memorized over the years. The slight stubble on his face from not shaving for a couple days, the little moles, his long and somehow always curled eyelashes, those pink lips of his. He’s everything you could have ever dreamed of and more. You’ve had him at fingertip length for so long now and all you want to do is reach out for him, take what you want and never let go.

Lando feels his breath catch in his throat as you two make eye contact. You’d never looked more beautiful than in this moment and he doesn’t know how much longer he can take without you actually being his. You were the love of his life, his best friend, and everything he’s ever wanted. It may have taken him a long time to realize it, but he’s never felt like this about anyone before. You know each other like the back of your hands and it only makes sense that you’d be the one for him.

And it’s in this moment that it clicks for you two that it’s now or never. You’re never going to have a perfect moment like this again. It feels right, like the universe wants this moment to happen and if you let it go to waste you may never get the chance again. Lando takes his free hand and gently cups your face, his thumb ever so softly rubbing across your cheek. You’re practically putty in his hands and you feel like your heart is gonna beat out of your chest. You want to scream out to him that you love him, that you want to be his, but you can barely get your brain to communicate with your mouth.

“Lan-”

That’s all you can get out before Lando’s leaning in and his lips are on yours. He tastes like the sugary sweet wine and his lips are soft as they move in sync with yours. Kissing him is even better than you’d imagined and as your hand reaches up to his neck you deepen the kiss. It feels like you two had kissed a thousand times before and as he pulls away you’re already left wanting more.

Your foreheads rest against each other, both of you breathless and a little light headed from that singular kiss. When you both actually internalize what’s just happened you’re both grinning, that then turns into laughing and it’s like music to both of your ears to hear each other laugh.

“I think that was a long time coming.” You state as you finally lean back onto the couch.

Lando reaches out for your hand, intertwining his with yours. “When did you realize?”

“That night when we got into that argument, which looking back now, you were totally jealous.”

“I was not jealous!” He tries to be serious, but the knowing look on your face has him cracking. “Ok I was jealous.”

“When did you realize?” You question.

“That same night. I couldn’t understand why you flirting with that guy bothered me so much. Well I guess now we know.”

“Yeah cause you’re in loooveee with me.” You’re laughing as you speak, but he shuts you up with another kiss and leaves you pouting when he pulls away.

“Only kissed you twice and you’re already pouting when I pull away? I think you’re in loooveee with me.”

You lean back in, capturing his lips in yet another kiss and you’re like teenagers who’ve gotten into their first relationship.

Lando sighs when you stop kissing him, he can’t believe he could have had this sooner if he would have just opened his eyes. “You think you could get another week off from work?”

You’d do anything to get another week in a paradise with him, but you know it’s not possible. “Hmm, why don’t you just spend a week in London with me?”

“Well you haven’t even told them that you now have a famous F1 driver boyfriend. Who if they didn’t know already is very needy and needs to see his girlfriend.” He teases.

“Well you forgot to add that you’re my hot and famous F1 driver boyfriend.” You counter back.

You’re both grinning like fools at each other and as you curl up into his side and take in the last sunset you’ll see in the place that now holds such a special place in both of your hearts, you’re glad you let him convince you to come on this trip.

As the sun finally sets over the water you actually say those three little words.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris fic #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fic #lando norris fluff #mine #writing

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aleskie · 7 days ago

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I THOUGHT I HAD EVERYTHING, I WAS LONELY | Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: When Lando spots you at a party, he's immediately smitten. Maybe it's love at first sight, maybe it's infatuation. But he knows one thing—you were going to change him forever.

HELL & BACK MASTERLIST NEXT CHAPTER WARNINGS: one dirty thought, alcohol, and nothing more :))

Lando was the party boy. The entertainer. The fun one. The driver everyone loved to see in the off-season for the sole reason that he embodied the carefree, adrenaline-fueled lifestyle expected of someone in his twenties with too much money and not enough consequences.

Not that he didn’t enjoy it. He did.

The booze, the flashing lights, the girls, the parties.

They were his life—his escape. A way to let loose, to stay sane in a world that demanded too much and never gave enough in return.

He’s at Max’s post-race party when he spots you.

You’re with your girlfriends, dancing conservatively—almost shy—keeping a watchful eye on them as they knock back shot after shot. You look every bit the mom-friend type, a stark contrast to the chaos around you, and yet, somehow, you fit in. Like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Something about that pulls him in.

He wants to step closer, to ask you to dance, to get your number and see where the night takes you. But he knows better. He knows how this ends—how it always ends. He ruins things. He ruins everything. That’s just who he is.

“Mate, just go talk to her,” Max says, Gin and Tonic in hand, his grin easy, his tone loose with the buzz of alcohol. “What’s there to lose?”

He doesn’t think Max gets it. Max, with his stable relationship, his unshakable focus, his career that keeps climbing. A champion through and through, never letting distractions pull him under. Maybe that’s the difference between them. Maybe that’s why Max is at the top, and he’s still stuck in the spiral.

“Nah, man,” he says, forcing a grin, letting out a short laugh. “She’s just pretty, is all.”

Max raises a brow, unconvinced, but doesn’t push. Instead, he smirks, offers his drink as “liquid courage,” and then heads back to the VIP booth, leaving him there—still watching, still wanting, still knowing he’ll never make a move.

But you do.

You turn to him and smile—bright, effortless, absolutely gorgeous. There’s a small wave, a little shy, a little coy, like you know exactly what you’re doing and yet have no idea at all.

And it’s that—the way your attention is locked on him, like he’s the only one in the room—that makes him cave.

He takes a deep breath, raking a hand through his hair before threading through the packed crowd. The music pulses in his chest, the scent of liquor and perfume thick in the air, bodies pressed together in a blur of movement and heat. But he barely notices any of it. His focus is on you.

You’re perched on the edge of your seat, legs crossed, the telltale flash of red on the soles of your heels making your legs seem even longer. And he—God help him—lets his mind wander, just for a second. Imagines them wrapped around his waist, your body pressed close, his name slipping past your lips—

He hates himself for the thought.

Because he isn’t supposed to see you like that. Not you.

There’s something different about you—something that makes his usual instincts falter. Maybe it’s the way you don’t throw yourself into the madness like everyone else. Or maybe it’s the way you meet his gaze with curiosity instead of expectation, like you’re wondering who he is beyond the headlines and the lifestyle.

And that terrifies him.

Because he knows himself. Knows what he does to people. Knows the damage he leaves behind.

You don’t deserve that.

You don’t deserve him.

But as he reaches your table, as you tilt your head and flash him that same sweet, knowing smile, he wonders if maybe—for just one night—he can pretend he’s someone worth knowing.

“Hey,” he says. It’s a lame opening, but it’s all he can muster up.

“Hi.” You smile, warm and inviting, and tilt your head just slightly. “I didn’t expect you to come over.”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been looking in your direction the whole night.”

“Oh.” You arch a brow, lips twitching upward. “I noticed.”

“Did you now?” He smirks, leaning in just a fraction, testing the waters.

“My friends may be…” You throw a quick glance toward them, watching as they giggle and not-so-subtly glance your way. Some are whispering, others are outright cheering you on. You sigh, amused. “Well, tipsy…” That’s an understatement. “But they aren’t blind.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, dropping his gaze for a second. If Max had noticed, if even your friends had noticed, then yeah—he must’ve been obvious. Embarrassingly so.

“Were you, y’know, hoping I would come over?” he asks, testing his luck.

“Who wouldn’t want a cutie like you to come talk to them?” You chuckle, soft and easy, like this is the most natural thing in the world. It throws him off balance. He’s used to teasing, to flirting laced with expectations. But you—there’s something different about you. Something charming, sweet, disarming. “I just hope you don’t get bored of me.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he says, and for the first time tonight, he smiles—really smiles. Not the practiced one, not the polite one, but something real. Something free of distraction or hesitation. “I find you to be the most interesting thing in this whole place.”

“Really?” You lean in slightly, playful. “Even more than your race car driving friends?”

And just like that, his world stutters to a stop.

You know.

His mind starts running through possibilities—did you call him over for the clout? The money? The name? Wouldn’t be the first time. And yet, something about you, about this, feels different. And yet, it still wouldn’t be out of the question to assume that—

“So, you know who I am?” He bites his lip, a nervous habit, suddenly unsure of where this is going.

“Sort of.” You shrug, unbothered. “My friend watches the show and freaked out when she saw you looking over.”

Oh. Right. Netflix.

Relief washes over him, and he exhales, tension melting from his shoulders. Maybe, just maybe, this isn’t like all the other times.

“Well…” He extends his hand to you, the corners of his lips quirking up. “I’m Lando.”

You slide your hand into his, soft and warm, and for a moment, he swears it fits too perfectly, like it was meant to be there all along.

“I’m Y/N.”

Your name is like a song. A symphony meant just for him.

“Well, Y/N,” he says, letting your name roll off his tongue like he wants to remember how it feels. He smirks—just a little cocky, just a little bold, because confidence is easier than uncertainty. And maybe, just maybe, he wants to make this night last. “Do you wanna get out of here? Grab a bite at whatever’s open?”

“I’d love to.” You give his hand the softest squeeze, and for a second, his heart stutters in his chest. “But I gotta put the girls first. I’m tonight’s driver.”

Right. Your friends.

Fuck.

He’s kind of an asshole for thinking you’d leave them behind for him, isn’t he?

He nods, playing it off like it doesn’t bother him, like he totally expected it. But before he can even think of something to say, you let go of his hand—his palm immediately missing your warmth—and reach into your bag. A moment later, you’re holding out your phone, eyes twinkling with something he can’t quite place.

“But, you know what?” You tilt your head, teasing, offering him a way to fix his disappointment. “I’ll make myself free for you.”

His chest tightens, not with nerves, but with something good. Something rare.

His fingers brush against yours as he takes your phone, hurrying to punch in his number before he can mess it up somehow. He rings it, watching as your screen lights up with his name, and then grins. “Now I have yours too.”

“Don’t be a stranger and call me, okay?” You laugh and tuck your phone back into your purse, giving him a look that he already knows will haunt him in the best way.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

And he wouldn’t.

Because he knows—deep in his gut, in that instinctual way he’s learned to trust—that for better or worse, you were going to be in his life.

This was just the beginning.

#lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fic #lando norris #f1 fanfiction #formula one fic #formula one x reader #✩ allie's writing ✩#✶ Hell & Back ✶

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mrspiastri · 2 days ago

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✩ feed me, please? 🍛

pairing: lando norris x desi!reader

cw: fluff

wc: 4.2k words

an: i know this is the longest i’ve vanished for but IM BACKKK 😁😁😁, and ty for the req :D

It was a sort of ritual the two of them had developed. One they didn’t find the need to really speak into existence, since it had simply become a part of their lives.

Every Monday, when Lando would return from whatever country he’d been racing in the previous night and back to Monaco, Y/N would wait up for him.

It didn’t matter how late he arrived, or that she had work in the morning and should have gone to sleep at a reasonable time like a sane person. Unfortunately, she was anything but sane, especially when it came to him.

The same boyfriend who was on his way home from Melbourne, still riding the high of the 5th win of his career.

He was supposed to be home by 3 in the afternoon, but it seemed that his weekend’s luck had run out, and his flight was rescheduled for later, which meant he wouldn’t reach home until nearly 9 at night.

Y/N pretended she wasn’t disappointed when he texted her about the delay, but it was hard not to be. As silly as it sounded, she loved spending as much time with him as possible whenever his schedule allowed it. The fact that their time together tonight would be cut down left a small pang of sadness in her chest.

But if anything, it only made her more determined to give him a proper welcome home.

Before she got to work, she made sure everything was ready: the banner (which was just three giant craft sheets taped together with “Congrats Lando!” written in big letters), the balloons she had single-handedly inflated (after sorting out the orange and black ones, of course), and the cake she had baked, now cooling on the kitchen counter.

The smell of incense lingered faintly in the air, the last remnants of the sandalwood incense sticks she had lit earlier in the evening. It wasn’t really a ritual, but something she did out of habit; her mother always said it kept the house feeling calm, like a reset for the week ahead. The warm, woody scent mixed with the delicate fragrance of her jasmine plant, which sat in the window, its small white buds blooming beautifully in the evening breeze.

Lando always said their home smelled different. Not like the crisp, cool air of a hotel or the artificial scents of air fresheners. It smelled lived in. A mix of filter coffee, coconut oil, and the lingering floral scent of their fabric softener. Something distinctly her.

She smiled at the thought while grabbing a small steel tumbler, pouring a little warm milk into it before adding a spoonful of crushed almonds. He wouldn’t ask for it, but she knew how exhausted he would be after the long flight. And she knew he’d drink it anyway, especially if she handed it to him without a word.

As she finished icing the cake, she debated making a quick chicken curry and rice, just in case he wanted a proper meal instead of reheated leftovers. Her sister would call her mad for putting in so much effort at this hour.

Maybe she was, but it didn’t seem to deter her in the slightest. She glanced at the time on her phone, still a couple of hours before he’d land. That gave her more than enough time. She turned to the kitchen, tying her hair up with her trusty claw clip, rolling up her sleeves.

Y/N chopped the chicken, then got the pan going with some oil, mustard seeds, and crushed garlic. Once they sizzled, in went chopped onions, then tomatoes, and a mix of turmeric, red chilli powder, coriander, and garam masala. No measuring, just by feel, like she always did. The kind of cooking that lived in her muscle memory.

After the masala cooked down, she added the chicken, gave it a good mix, and added hot water for a light gravy. While that simmered, she rinsed basmati rice and set it on the stove.

Within minutes, the kitchen smelled like home; spices, garlic, and something warm and familiar. The curry bubbled gently on the stove, the rice nearly done.

It was simple, but it was his favorite. And hers too, if she was being honest. If there was one thing she learnt in her years of being with Lando, it was that he had the palate of a child.

As everything cooked, she leaned against the counter, tired but content. She could already picture Lando walking through the door; backpack slung over one shoulder, hair a little messy, eyes half-tired but lighting up when he smelled the food.

He always pretended to be casual about it, but she’d caught him sneaking seconds more than once. And every single time, he’d mutter something like, "How is this better than the curry your mum makes?" with a pout that made her want to roll her eyes and kiss him at the same time.

Y/N let the chicken simmer, rice already done. Just as she was stirring up the pot, she heard the sound of the door rattling.

“Shit!”, she whispered before quickly switching off the heat and rushing to open the door.

The door pushed open, and Y/N was greeted by the sight of a tired Lando, curls messy, shoulders slumped, and eyes droopy. However, all that changed the second he laid eyes on her.

🪻🪻🪻

The moment the door creaked open, Lando stepped inside, his body nearly folding under the weight of exhaustion. His shoulders sagged, backpack slipping halfway down one arm, curls flattened from hours in transit, eyes barely staying open.

And then he saw her.

There, in his home that had slowly become theirs, barefoot and glowing in the soft light, standing with a crooked smile on her face. Dressed in her favourite cotton kurta, with a pair of loose pajamas.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with fatigue, but there was a warmth blooming in his chest that no amount of tiredness could dull.

Y/N shrugged like it was nothing, like her heart hadn’t spent the entire day planning how to make him smile.

“Your fifth win deserves some sort of celebration,” she said lightly. “Even if it’s kind of lopsided.”

His eyes flicked to the “Congrats Lando!” banner that barely hung on by tape, then to the ridiculous orange and black balloons huddled in one corner of the room. He laughed under his breath, a little stunned by the quiet love in all of it.

He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms, dropping his backpack to the floor without a second thought. She fit perfectly against him, her hair smelling faintly of jasmine, her skin warm against his travel-chilled hoodie.

“You sorted the orange ones out, didn’t you?” he mumbled into her hair.

“Obviously.”

He didn’t say anything for a second, just held her there in the quiet, letting himself breathe her in. Letting himself come home.

God, he loved her.

It hit him in the simplest moments, much like this. Not when the cameras flashed, not when he stood on podiums, not even when he scored his career highs. But when he walked into a house that smelled like her hair oil and home-cooked food. When she looked up at him with that stupidly soft smile like she’d been waiting all day just for this.

When she handed him the little steel tumbler, he realised he was some sort of spoiled prince. Which, of course, he totally was. At least when it came to her.

“You’re unreal,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

She raised an eyebrow. “For blowing some balloons?”

He shook his head. “For all of it.”

She tried to brush it off with a joke, but his nose twitched as the scent of something familiar drifted from the kitchen. His stomach growled audibly.

“Is that... chicken curry?”

“Maybe,” she said, trying not to grin.

Without hesitation, he made a beeline for the stove, lifting the lid of the pot like a man possessed. The smell hit him full force; spiced, rich, comforting. It was like a hug in the form of food.

He turned back to her, eyes wide. “Are you actually trying to ruin every meal I’ll have for the rest of the year?”

“You act like you don’t live on frozen pizza when I’m not here.”

“Exactly,” he said, trying to scoop a spoonful of the gravy and blowing on it. “So how do you expect me to go back to that after this?”

Y/N quickly smacked his hand away, making him playfully frown. “First go freshen up, and change out of your airport clothes.”

Lando groaned dramatically, dragging his suitcase toward their bedroom like a sleep-deprived child. “Fine, but only because you bullied me into it.”

She kissed him once more before gently pulling back, brushing his curls away from his forehead. “I encouraged you, big difference.”

With him out of sight, she got to work garnishing the curry; fresh coriander chopped finely, a squeeze of lime to brighten the gravy, and a pinch more garam masala because she knew exactly how he liked it. The rice had steamed perfectly, each grain separate and fluffy, and she spooned it neatly onto a plate, ladling the chicken curry beside it so the gravy soaked into the rice just enough.

🪻🪻🪻

Just as she was setting everything onto the table, Lando reappeared, now in a pair of soft grey joggers and a worn tee. His curls were damp from a quick shower, and his eyes looked just a touch clearer, though the tiredness still clung to him in the way his shoulders sagged.

He sniffed the air like a cartoon character following the scent of a freshly baked pie. “I could smell it in the shower. You’re evil.”

She raised a brow as she placed the plate down in front of his chair. “You say that like I didn’t just make your favorite meal.”

“You did. That’s the problem.” He collapsed into the chair, groaning softly as he looked at the food. “It looks amazing, love. Smells even better.”

She leaned over, ruffling his curls with a smug smile. “Eat, before I make you reheat it yourself.”

He stared down at the plate for a second, then looked up at her with the softest, most exhausted expression on his face.

“Babe?” he said quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Can you…” He scratched the back of his neck, then blinked at her, boyishly shy. “Can you feed me? Just a little? I’m so tired.“

Y/N stared at him, half amused, half exasperated; but mostly endeared. This man, this world-class athlete, who just hours ago had stood on the podium in front of thousands, was now looking at her like a sleepy toddler who needed to be tucked in and hand-fed dinner.

“You’re unbelievable,” she muttered affectionately, sitting down beside him.

“But lovable,” he quipped, resting his chin on her shoulder briefly.

She had just reached for the spoon, before Lando whined again. “Babe, not with the spoon,” stretching out the last few consonants of the word.

“How else do you expect me to feed you dummy?,” she asked.

“With your hands, please. It always tastes better when you do it.” He mumbled in response, almost embarrassed about having to make the request.

She rolled her eyes, already using her fingers to mix a bit of curry and rice, scooping it gently and holding it up to his lips. “Open.”

He obeyed without hesitation, sighing contentedly the moment the food hit his tongue. “Oh my God,” he mumbled with his mouth full, eyes fluttering shut. “That’s actually insane.”

She laughed, shaking her head as she made another bite. “You say that every time.”

“Because it’s true every time,” he said, swallowing. “This is the best thing I’ve eaten in weeks.”

“Liar,” she said, feeding him again. “You were probably at some five-star place two nights ago.”

“Exactly. Five stars. No love. This? Ten stars. All love.”

Y/N paused for just a second, letting his words settle in her chest. Then she smiled, softer this time, brushing her fingers against his cheek as she fed him the next bite.

“I missed you loads, Lando.”

His eyes met hers, warm and heavy with everything he couldn’t quite put into words.

“I know,” he whispered. “I missed you more.”

She let her thumb linger on his cheek for a moment before pulling it back, scooping up another bite of rice and curry. She held it out to him wordlessly, and he leaned forward, taking it into his mouth like it was the most natural thing in the world; like being fed by her, like sitting here in their cozy kitchen after a race weekend, was his idea of perfect.

He chewed slowly, savoring it like she’d plated a Michelin-starred dish just for him. Maybe to anyone else, it looked simple. A plate of rice, curry, and love. But to Lando, it felt like everything.

And that look in her eyes. Soft. Steady. Like no matter how many countries he traveled through, how many podiums he stood on, or flights he boarded, this would always be his favorite place to land.

“Do you want some?” he asked suddenly, his voice low.

She raised a brow, amused. “I’ve been tasting while cooking.”

“But that’s not the same,” he murmured, reaching for her hand and gently guiding it to her lips. She blinked, but he nodded. “Come on. One bite for you.”

She rolled her eyes but took the bite anyway, and he grinned like he’d just won again.

They sat like that for a while. Him slouched in the chair, head tilted toward her shoulder, letting her feed him slowly, in no rush. Between bites, his fingers brushed hers, thumb tracing soft lines over her knuckles. He liked the way her skin felt against his; warm, familiar, grounding.

“Do you ever get tired of being this perfect?” he asked between bites.

Y/N snorted. “All the time. It’s exhausting.”

Lando chuckled, eyes closing for a second. “I mean it though. I don’t know how I got this lucky.”

“You made a left turn at the right time,” she teased.

He smiled, but there was a weight behind it. A softness. He reached out, his hand gently resting on her knee, thumb drawing small circles through the fabric of the pajamas she was wearing.

“I don’t say it enough,” he said quietly, “but thank you.”

“For what?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“For waiting up,” he replied, looking into her eyes. “For cooking. For decorating. For always being here when I come… and making it feel like home.”

Y/N looked at him for a long second, heart fluttering at the honesty in his voice, the way he said it like it was sacred.

She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Always,” she whispered.

He smiled again, a little sleepier now, letting his head fall to her shoulder as she fed him the last few bites. His hand slid from her knee to her waist, fingers curling into the soft fabric of her kurta. His plate was nearly empty now, but he looked up at her with those warm, sleepy eyes and that signature little smirk tugging at his lips.

“I’d marry you just to have a lifetime supply of your cooking… but also because I love you.”

Y/N blinked, her heart stuttering just a little at how sincere he sounded; sleepy-eyed and warm, but somehow managing to look at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

She smiled, playful but touched. “So I have to feed you forever, is that what you’re saying?”

Lando grinned, eyes lighting up. “Don’t worry,” he said, tugging her a little closer, “I’ll always be there to do the dishes.”

That made her laugh, properly laugh, the kind that made her eyes crinkle and her shoulders shake. “Wow,” she said through a grin, “a man who loves me and does the dishes? Are you trying to make me cry?”

Lando didn’t let go of her hand, not even as her laughter softened and the air between them settled into something quieter, gentler. His thumb traced slow, lazy circles over her skin, and his gaze never left her face. It was like he was memorizing her all over again.

Y/N tilted her head, still smiling, still flushed, and leaned in to kiss his cheek, light and lingering.

“I do adore you,” she murmured, the words simple but full, warm like the kitchen around them. “And not just because you do the dishes.”

He grinned. “That’s just a bonus?”

She nodded. “A very attractive one.”

Lando chuckled, nuzzling her nose for a second before she finally pulled away, brushing her hands on her thighs as she stood up.

“Alright,” she said, moving toward the counter, “stay right there. I have one more thing for you.”

He watched her curiously, chin resting in his palm, eyes following every step she took as she reached for something just out of sight. And then she turned around, holding the cake in her hands with a proud little smile.

It wasn’t perfect, the icing was a little uneven, and the sprinkles were slightly chaotic, but it was hers. Homemade, thoughtful, and filled with every bit of love she hadn’t quite managed to put into words. The top read ‘Yay Lando!’ in shaky icing letters, and there was a tiny, uneven attempt at a checkered flag drawn in the corner. And to top it all off, she added a few candles on the cake, that crackled merrily.

His heart swelled instantly.

“Y/N…” he said softly, sitting up straighter, “you made that?”

“I tried,” she laughed, placing it gently on the table in front of him. “I know it’s not fancy or anything, but you won. Again. And I’m really, really proud of you.”

Lando stared at the cake for a second longer, then up at her; and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. He just looked at her like she hung the moon.

“I love you,” he said again, quieter this time. “And this… this means more than anything anyone else could’ve given me.”

Y/N’s eyes shimmered a little, but she smiled through it, reaching up to brush back a strand of his hair. “I’m just glad you’re home.”

🪻🪻🪻

He reached for her hand again, tugging her gently onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist as she melted into him.

“I could stay like this forever,” he said, almost to himself, his thumb brushing across her waist.

Y/N gave him a fond smile. “But then who would go win races and wear ridiculous helmets?”

Lando laughed, and the sound made her heart flutter. “Still worth it,” he teased, before his voice turned soft again. “But even if I’m halfway across the world, this is what I come back to. It’s what I look forward to. Always.”

She leaned down to kiss him gently, her lips lingering over his like she wanted to tell him everything without saying a word. When they finally pulled apart, he was smiling, just barely, in that lovesick way that made her feel weightless.

“Come on, blow out the candles, unless you want a bit of melted wax in your cake.”

He complied, blowing them out, not before making a wish. Lando couldn’t tell anyone what the wish was exactly, but he knew whatever it was involved Y/N.

“Now how about you feed me a slice of that cake you made. You know… since you’re already on a roll tonight.”

She rolled her eyes playfully but reached for the knife anyway.

“Fine,” she said, cutting him a generous piece. “But only because you’re cute. And jet-lagged.”

“And madly in love with you,” he added, flashing her that boyish smile she could never resist.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said through a smile, holding up a bite for him.

He chewed the bite slowly, savoring it like it was some five-star dessert, even after she mentioned she made it with a box mix. None of that mattered to him. It was hers. She had made it with her own two hands, for him, after working all day, after waiting up when she could have easily gone to sleep. And somehow, it tasted like comfort. Like love.

Lando leaned back in his chair with a soft groan, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before glancing over at her. She was still watching him with that shy smile, her fingers brushing off a crumb from the corner of his lips without even thinking about it. So casually intimate. So them.

“Okay, that was amazing,” he said, nudging her foot with his under the table. “But now that you’ve stuffed me like a turkey, tell me about your day, hmm?”

She blinked at him, surprised. “Mine?”

“Yes, yours,” he said, nudging her foot again. “You always ask about my races, my media stuff, my training. And I love that, but I’ve missed hearing about your day. I want to know everything.”

Y/N’s eyes softened as she gave him a look that was both amused and touched. “It wasn’t very exciting.”

“I don’t care,” he said, sitting up straighter now, resting his elbow on the table and his cheek against his fist like a boy trying to stay awake in a lecture; except his smile made it clear he was genuinely interested. “Tell me anyway. Start from the top.”

She exhaled a short laugh, shaking her head. “Fine… I woke up late because I stayed up finishing a report. Barely had time to make coffee, but your mum texted me a photo of your podium, and that made my morning.”

Lando grinned. “She’s obsessed with me.”

“She’s proud of you,” Y/N said, smiling too. “She’d asked if I’d recorded your post-race interview, and I had. So I sent it to her.”

Lando chuckled. “You’re the best.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, nudging his leg. “Then work was the usual chaos. Back-to-back meetings. I forgot to eat lunch until like three.”

His expression turned mock-scandalized. “Love, no!”

She rolled her eyes with a small laugh. “Relax, I ate something. Just… not real food. I had chai and a couple of biscuits.”

He leaned forward, frowning slightly. “You need to take better care of yourself.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You’re literally the one who travels across time zones and survives on protein bars and Monster Energy.”

“Yeah, but I’m used to being irresponsible,” he teased. “You’re the responsible one. Keep the balance.”

She rolled her eyes, but her thumb instinctively brushed over his knuckles. “Fine. I’ll eat better tomorrow.”

“Good,” he said softly, intertwining their fingers.

There was a beat of silence as they just sat there, fingers laced together across the table, the candlelight flickering gently and the warm scent of cardamom and jasmine still clinging to the air. He studied her face like it was his favorite thing in the world, because it was.

He pressed his face into her hair, breathing her in. It smelled like home. Not in the way his childhood home had, or even the flat he’d bought in London years ago. No, this was different. This was the scent of freshly washed sheets with a hint of her shampoo, of incense smoke that lingered even hours after it had burned out, of something sweet always cooking in the kitchen even if she swore she hadn’t touched sugar in days.

Everywhere she went, she left traces of herself behind. And he had slowly grown addicted to them.

He hadn’t expected this with her. Not at first. She was so different from the life he was used to, warm where the world was cold, thoughtful in a way that caught him off guard. She didn’t care about the race results, or the interviews, or the trophies. She cared if he ate, if he slept well, if he remembered to call his mum on Sundays.

And God, the way she loved him, without ever having to say it all the time. She just did. It was in the stupidly lopsided banner and the way she had sorted through a pack of balloons to only pick out McLaren colors. It was in the glass of warm milk she had set aside, because she knew he wouldn’t ask, but that he’d drink it anyway. It was in the smell of curry floating in the air, the kind that reminded him of nights curled up on the couch with her legs thrown over his, pretending not to be bored of watching the same movie for the eighteenth time.

She made this house feel like more than just walls and furniture. She made it feel safe.

And he, in his messy, often selfish, fast-paced world, had somehow found himself right in the middle of the kind of love people only dreamed about. The kind that didn’t come with fireworks and grand gestures, but instead existed in quiet, unwavering loyalty. The kind that tasted like rice and chicken curry at 11 PM on a Monday. The kind that made you want to come home, no matter how far you’d gone.

He looked at her, really looked; hair tied up in that claw clip she refused to throw out, sleeves rolled up, tiny flour smudge on her cheek from earlier, and his chest ached with how much he felt.

This wasn’t a phase. This wasn’t a fling. This was his future.

And he didn’t need to say it out loud to know that she already felt the same. Because in that kitchen, with the last crumbs of cake between them and tired smiles on their faces, they weren’t just in love.

They were building a life. And neither of them would trade it for anything.

phew, this is so gross. this is what happens when two clingy individuals start dating. god bless. pls send in some reqs from my prompt list if u would like to see some more!! thx

#lando norris #lando norris requests #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fluff #lando norris fic #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris x desi!reader #f1 x you #f1 fluff #f1 requests #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 driver x reader #ln4 fluff #ln4 x reader #ln4 fic

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f1cflcfic · 2 days ago

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Won't Say I'm In Love (SMAU ft. Lando Norris) - part vii

pairing: lando norris x tennis player!reader (fem!y/n); past carlos alcaraz x tennis player!reader (fem!y/n)

summary: As a general rule, y/n does not date athletes. You've been there, done that - would not recommend. Besides, you definitely don't do love. There's no time in the world for complicated feelings when there's a career Grand Slam to be won. But what if your heart just refuses to listen?

genre: social meda/mixed au, friends to lovers

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons

April 14-18, 2025

April 19 - 21, 2025

[Transcription of video excerpt "Tennis Stars Surprise Fans..."]

“Describe my dream girl? Ideally she’d also be really into tennis, or we might have a difficult time of finding common ground,” Grigor jokes.

The fan continues. “If you had to marry someone on the tour right now, who would it be?”

“Oof, marry?! I’m not ready for that,” he laughs. “Who do you think I should marry? Who’d be a good match for me?”

“I mean, my favorite tennis player is Y/N L/N,” the fan shrugs. Dimitrov smirks, and repeats her name.

“What?” The fan questions, unsure what’s caused his reaction. “It’s just, isn’t she already dating – never mind. I don't think I'm her type.”

“My favourite is Maria Sharapova, but she isn’t on this tour,” the other fan interjects. This seems to amuse Dimitrov even more. “That’s my ex-girlfriend.”

Switch to Y/N L/N

“Shall I call her now? We’ll just give it a go,” she pulls out her phone and selects Coco’s contact. When she does pick up, she immediately turns the screen to the two fans who stare at the tennis player in awe. “Say hello to my new friends Co,” Y/N says enthusiastically. “Oh, hi – what’s up?” “They put us in a gondola, and they could ask me anything – and they wanted to know who I hung out with the most on tour. So obviously, I had to call.”

“Of course,” Coco agrees, and is about to respond when she gets interrupted by another voice and winces. “Yikes, that’s my sign to hang up to and avoid a penalty drill. I’ll see you later, have fun!”

“Well there you go,” Y/N grins as she hangs up. “To be honest, this is how most of our conversations go – we always get interrupted by one of us having to go and train.”

“What would you be doing if you weren’t playing tennis?”

She purses her lips and thinks about it for a moment. “I’d probably run a dog rescue. Or a pet rescue at least. I think I’d like that.”

April 25 - 29, 2025

[Transcription of press conference post-quarter final]

Y/N, you are also one of the signatories of the letter that was sent to both the WTA and ATP - asking to renegotiate the prize money to be won at Grand Slams. Can you tell us more about why you made that decision?

"Yeah, sure. It's not just about the slams by the way - it's about the entire WTA and ATP tours. I'm lucky now to be in a position where I don't have to qualify and automatically enter tournaments. So my chances of being able to support myself and my team financially are much better. When you don't have that position, it's really hard to be a pro tennis player. It shouldn't be that hard, and it certainly shouldn't be an obstacle or barrier for players wanting to enter tournaments or wanting to actually dedicate their life to the craft of playing tennis at such high level. Plus, the percentage of money that now goes to players versus the tour itself is also skewed. Not just in terms of ATP versus WTA, but also in terms of what the organizers get versus what we get as players. There's examples out there of fairer agreements in other sports, also included in the letter."

Thank you. I was also wondering if you feel like the requirements of playing the tour are fair and equitable, considering both the money you receive if you win & the division of labor between WTA and ATP players?

"Quite frankly, no. I mean, we do a lot of media - all of us have those obligations. But it's men who get all the headlines. If you look at tennistv or espn - most tennis content is focused on male players. Yet we are out here, too. And then I get used as content instead about who I'm dating. Not exactly comparable experiences, I'd say."

You and your opponent Naomi Osaka have both also been vocal about mental health, and its effects on athletes' performance. Your friend Lando Norris, who was in the crowd today, has also been an advocate for open conversations around this topic. Do you have those with one another, too?

"He's here? Really? I'm too focused on the court to know what happens off of it, but that's so nice to know, thank you! I forgot your question, sorry."

He is, yeah. My question was if it's a topic you talk about with your fellow tour players, or even with friends who may or may not be in sports?

"You know, I wish I could say yes, but the honest answer is no. It's not brought up often, because it is definitely also still seen as another potential element to exploit. It's hard to be open, but I'm working on trusting my friends with my brain chemistry."

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘ ∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘∘•···············•∘

A/N: it's 2AM, here we are (iykyk)... I used too many images, and had to use a good old classic text divider instead of the image divider I've been using for this fic, sorry about that! Next up: Concern, Physical Touch and Shenanigans when in Rome

♥ likes, comments, reblogs and asks are always very much appreciated - i love chatting and hearing your thoughts! ♥

taglist (open): @linnygirl09 @julesbog @midnight-and-books @sarx164 @obxstiles @freyathehuntress @vhkdncu2ei8997 @berrnuu @lightdragonrayne @glow-ish @batsratswrites @blushmimi @colmathgames2

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blueberrybirdsworld · 2 days ago

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The Cat Distribution System Masterlist

! New fanfiction alert !

Pairing : lando norris x original female character

Genre : Fluff, SMAU

Warning : none, just yeah the kitten will be different in some pictures

English is not my first language so sorry if there is any grammatical mistakes.

Summary:

Lando Norris always said he didn’t like cats—until one tiny ginger kitten curled up in his hoodie and refused to leave. Enter Charlie: the fluffball that changed everything.

Now, eight months deep into a totally secret relationship with Ariana Riverria—a world-class ballerina—Lando’s soft-launching his entire personality shift.

The slow-burn secret romance explodes into a full-on public love story.

There's love. There's fluff. There's a very dramatic kitten.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Bonus parts

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theonottsbxtch · 2 days ago

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REDCOAT PT1 | LN4

an: hello my loves i've missed you all and i've missed writing even more. i had a lot of fun with this fic and i think at the moment it stands to be one of my favourite historical fics ive written? we'll see i can't wait to talk about this with all of you, as per usual this has a fair share of angst lol xx

wc: 7.0k

summary: in the waning light of the american revolution, a spirited colonial shopkeeper crosses paths with lando norris, a sharp-tongued british redcoat whose loyalty to king and country begins to falter the moment their worlds collide. what begins as a clash of wit and will blossoms into a dangerous, forbidden love, hidden in shadows and silence. as the fires of rebellion burn hotter and allegiances are tested, their hearts wage a war of their own. disappearances, betrayal, and near-death draw them to the edge of heartbreak, until a desperate reunion under cover of night reminds them what they stand to lose. torn between duty and desire, loyalty and love, theirs is a romance born in war. delicate, defiant, and destined to change everything.

THE BELL ABOVE THE SHOP DOOR gave a half-hearted jingle as the wind ushered in an uninvited guest. She did not glance up at first—she had learned, in these past months, that a Redcoat’s presence was best ignored. A British soldier in her family’s establishment was as common now as dust upon the shelves.

Lando’s boots clicked against the wooden floor, measured, unhurried. He knew he was unwelcome, he could feel it in the silence, in the stiffness of her shoulders as she arranged goods behind the counter. He did not mind. If anything, it amused him.

“Good day,” he drawled, removing his hat with a slow flourish. “Or do your kind no longer observe courtesy?”

She did not grace him with a full look, only a sidelong glance, cool as the December air that had slipped in with him. “Oh, we do. Just not for the King’s dogs.”

Lando smirked. “How fortunate, then, that I am not a dog.” He leaned an elbow upon the counter, far too comfortable in a place where he ought to be despised. “A wolf, perhaps.”

She let out a breath, not quite a scoff. “A wolf fights his own battles. You lot prefer to take what does not belong to you.”

He chuckled, tilting his head as though considering the remark. “And yet, here you are, selling us your wares. Seems a curious sort of defiance.”

She turned to him properly now, meeting his gaze with a fire that almost made him regret his teasing. Almost. “You mistake necessity for surrender, sir. Not all of us have the luxury of fighting with muskets and sabres.”

A beat of silence passed between them. Lando studied her, not just the words upon her lips but the steel in her eyes, the way her hands gripped the counter’s edge as though restraining themselves from throwing something at him. He liked that. A spirit unbroken.

“I should buy something, then,” he mused, tapping his fingers against the wood. “Wouldn’t want to mistake myself for a thief.”

Her gaze flicked to his crimson coat. “No, you’d need to wear plainer colours for that.”

Lando laughed, properly, this time. He reached into his coat for his coin purse, all the while watching the way she refused to look away, unflinching, proud. This war would end one way or another. He wondered, fleetingly, what would become of her then.

But that was a thought for another day.

For now, he wanted to see how many more barbs she could hurl before she surrendered a smile.

She held out her hand expectantly, palm upturned, waiting for payment. A simple gesture, yet one that carried all the weight of her contempt.

Lando placed a coin in her hand with deliberate slowness, his fingers brushing against hers for but a moment, long enough to test her resolve, too fleeting to be called an offence. He watched for a reaction, some flicker of surprise, of awareness.

Nothing.

She merely turned, retrieving a paper-wrapped parcel from the shelf behind her. “That will suffice, I expect?”

He did not look at it. “What is it?”

“Something for your kind.” She placed it upon the counter. “Dried tea leaves. I hear you’ve quite the fondness for it.”

Lando huffed a laugh, picking up the package and weighing it in his hand. “Ah, but only when properly taxed.”

Her smile was as cold as the winter outside. “I shall be sure to charge double next time.”

He slipped the parcel into his coat, tapping the counter lightly with his knuckles. “A shrewd businesswoman.”

She tilted her head. “A survivor.”

A pause.

For the first time since stepping inside, Lando found himself without a retort. He had expected resistance, certainly cold glares, tight lips, perhaps even silence. He had not expected this: a woman whose tongue was as sharp as any bayonet.

He ought to leave. The wise thing would be to take his tea and be gone, to return to his duties, to think no more of her nor the way her voice curled around each word like a challenge.

And yet, he lingered.

“Do you truly despise us so much?” he asked, tilting his head as though the answer might be found in the angle of her jaw, the fire in her eyes.

She leaned forward, just enough to close the space between them. “Enough to know that if you were not wearing that coat, you would not be standing here.”

Ah. There it was, the truth, unvarnished.

Lando exhaled, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Then let us hope, for both our sakes, that I do not take it off.”

Her lips parted, a sharp inhale betraying the flicker of something, whether irritation or something else entirely, he could not yet say.

The bell above the door jingled once more. Another customer, stepping inside, bringing with them the crisp scent of winter air and the unspoken demand for propriety.

Lando straightened, stepping back with an ease that suggested he had never leaned in at all. “A pleasure, Miss.”

She did not offer him the courtesy of a name, nor a farewell. Only a gaze that lingered for a fraction too long as he turned towards the door.

And he, damn him, smiled as he stepped out into the cold.

She did not expect him to return.

It had been a week since the Redcoat had darkened her shop’s doorstep, since his teasing words had slipped like smoke into the air between them. She ought not to have thought of him beyond that moment, ought to have dismissed him as just another soldier, another thorn in her country’s side.

And yet, when the bell above the door gave its telltale jingle, and she turned to see him, standing there once more with that insufferable smirk, something in her stomach twisted in a way she did not care to name.

“Ah,” he said, stepping inside as though he belonged. “Still in business, I see.”

“Unfortunately.” She dusted her hands against her apron and moved towards the shelves, if only to put space between them. “I had hoped the war might rid me of certain customers.”

Lando let out a soft chuckle, his gloved fingers trailing idly along the wooden counter. “Unfortunately for you, here I stand. You must learn to temper your expectations.”

She shot him a glare over her shoulder. “What do you want?”

“A loaf of bread, if you would be so kind,” he said, entirely too at ease for a man whose presence was unwelcome. “And, if you’ve any left, another parcel of that fine, over-priced tea.”

She huffed, snatching a loaf from a basket. “You mean the tea that your lot taxed to the heavens? That tea?”

“The very same.” He leaned against the counter, watching as she wrapped the bread with swift, efficient movements. “Though I must say, it tastes all the sweeter knowing it costs you dear.”

She slammed the parcel down before him. “Is there a reason you insist upon provoking me, or do you simply enjoy the sound of your own voice?”

Lando exhaled, a low, amused sound. “Ah, but you see, I rather enjoy our conversations.”

She stilled for but a moment, her fingers curled against the counter. She could not look at him, not now, not when she could hear the grin in his voice, when she could feel the heat of his gaze upon her.

Instead, she held out her hand once more. “That will be four shillings.”

Lando said nothing as he placed the coins in her palm, but when his fingers brushed against her skin, just as they had last time, she could not ignore the way her breath hitched.

It was fleeting, nothing more than a whisper of contact, yet it lingered long after he pulled away.

She swallowed, willing the warmth in her cheeks to fade. “Was there anything else, sir?”

Lando tilted his head, as though considering his answer. And then, in a voice softer than before, he said, “No. I have all I need.”

The moment stretched, thin and uncertain, until at last he stepped back.

“Until next time,” he murmured, before turning towards the door.

She should have been relieved to see him leave.

Instead, she watched him go, her fingers still curled around the coins he had placed in her hand.

And damn him, she was already dreading the silence he left behind.

It was late when he returned.

The shop was quiet, the last of the day’s customers long since gone, leaving only the warm scent of flour and spices lingering in the air. She had been tidying the shelves when the bell above the door jangled, startling her from her thoughts.

She turned, expecting the usual, a weary townsman, perhaps, or a British officer on some tiresome errand.

But it was him.

And this time, there was blood.

A deep gash cut across his cheekbone, dark against the pale of his skin, half-dried yet still raw. It stretched from the corner of his eye down towards his jaw, and though he carried himself with the same infuriating ease as always, she did not miss the way his jaw was set, the stiffness in his movements.

For a moment, she simply stared.

He raised a brow. “No sharp remark to greet me?”

She recovered quickly, folding her arms across her chest. “I was merely debating whether it would be rude to ask what poor soul got the better of you.”

Lando exhaled a quiet laugh, wincing slightly as the motion pulled at the wound. “General Washington’s armies are strong.”

Her heart clenched before she could stop it.

She ought to have been pleased. He and his kind were the enemy. Every victory for the Revolution was a step closer to freedom, to the end of their occupation.

So why, then, did the sight of his blood stir something uneasy within her?

She lifted her chin. “Good.”

Lando smiled, though it did not quite reach his eyes. “I thought you might say that.”

He stepped past her towards the counter, reaching for a small cloth parcel, sugar, by the looks of it. As he moved, the candlelight caught upon the sharp lines of his face, the shadowed hollows beneath his eyes as he placed more than enough coins on the counter.

She ought to have left it at that. Ought to have let him pay, let him leave, let this be nothing more than another brief encounter.

But as he turned his back, something in her stirred, a quiet, treacherous thing.

“You know,” he said, as casually as if he were discussing the weather, “it doesn’t bring me much pleasure to be here and fighting a war not worth fighting.”

She had not expected it. Not from him.

Lando did not turn, but she saw the way his shoulders stiffened, the way his fingers paused in the act of fastening his coat.

The words hung in the air between them, fragile, dangerous.

For the first time since meeting him, she did not know what to say.

At last, he moved towards the door, hand upon the latch.

“Comfrey balm,” she said suddenly.

He glanced back, brows drawing together. “Pardon?”

She met his gaze evenly. “Comfrey balm. I hear it does wonders for cuts.”

A beat of silence.

Then, slowly, he smiled. A quiet thing, half-hidden in the dim candlelight.

He said nothing more as he stepped out into the cold.

And for the second time that week, she found herself watching him go.

She had not seen him in weeks.

Not since that night, when he had left with a bleeding cheek and words that lingered long after the door had closed behind him.

She ought not to have thought of him beyond that moment. Ought to have carried on as she always had, sweeping the floors, tending to the shelves, selling goods to British soldiers with her lips pressed into a thin, silent line.

But each day that passed without sight of him left an uneasy weight in her chest.

She told herself it was curiosity. Nothing more.

And then—

The bell above the door jangled.

She turned sharply, pulse kicking against her ribs.

There he was.

Lando stood in the doorway, his coat damp from the rain, his jaw dark with stubble, his expression unreadable. He looked different. Not quite worn, but weathered, as though the weeks had pressed upon him like a heavy hand.

And yet, as his gaze found hers, something in his posture eased, just slightly.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

She exhaled slowly, willing her voice to be steady. “You’ve been gone.”

Lando tilted his head. “You noticed.”

She frowned. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He smirked, stepping further inside, shaking the water from his coat. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The shop was quiet. Too quiet.

She busied herself behind the counter, though there was nothing to do. “Did you come to buy something, or merely to test my patience?”

Lando exhaled, rolling his shoulders as though shaking off something unseen. “I was sent away,” he said at last. “Orders. A skirmish near the Hudson.” He paused, gaze lingering upon her. “I returned as soon as I could.”

She stilled.

The words were nothing, really. Just a simple statement, spoken in that same easy, infuriating tone.

And yet.

She swallowed. “You needn’t have troubled yourself.”

Lando’s gaze darkened, sharp as the edge of a blade. “No?”

She lifted her chin. “No.”

A pause.

Then, in three slow steps, he was before her, hands braced against the counter, close enough that she could see the way his breath rose and fell, the flecks of gold in his otherwise storm-dark eyes.

Too close.

“You lie,” he murmured.

Her pulse stuttered. “You presume.”

His lips curled slightly, gaze flicking over her face, searching. Testing.

The rain drummed softly against the windows, the candlelight flickering between them.

Neither of them moved.

She should step back. She should put space between them, should end this before it became something neither of them could afford.

Instead, she remained exactly where she stood, hands clenched against the wood.

“You infuriate me,” she said quietly.

Lando huffed a low laugh. “The feeling is entirely mutual.”

Silence. A breath.

And then—

He reached out, fingers grazing her wrist, tentative, uncertain.

It was the smallest of touches, but it may as well have been a match to dry kindling.

Her breath caught.

Slowly, deliberately, he ran the pad of his thumb along her pulse point, a touch so light she might have imagined it.

“I should go,” he murmured, though he made no move to leave.

Her lips parted, her voice betraying her. “Yes.”

Neither of them moved.

Lando’s gaze flicked to her lips, only for a fraction of a second, but it was enough.

A sharp inhale. A moment stretched taut as a bowstring.

And then—

He kissed her.

It was not soft. It was not gentle.

It was weeks of sharp words and stolen glances, of battle lines drawn and crossed, of a war fought in more ways than one.

When at last they broke apart, breathless, unsteady, he let his forehead rest against hers.

“This is a mistake,” she whispered.

Lando exhaled a quiet laugh, his hands still firm against her waist. “I know.”

Neither of them let go.

Her breath was still unsteady, her fingers curled into the fabric of his coat before she forced herself to let go.

She stepped back, only slightly, just enough to put space between them, to remind herself of what this was, of what it could not be.

“The people will talk,” she murmured.

Lando huffed a quiet laugh, running a hand through his rain-damp hair. “Let them.”

And then, before she could so much as blink, he turned, walking towards the door with a slow, deliberate ease.

She watched, half in disbelief, half in something else entirely, as he reached up and flipped the wooden sign on the door—Open to Closed.

Then, without a word, he moved to the window, drawing the heavy blinds down, one by one, shutting out the grey light of the storm outside.

Her pulse skittered.

“You would like that,” she said, folding her arms, though she could not quite quell the heat rising in her chest. “The Americans losing profit.”

Lando turned back to her then, a slow, knowing smile tugging at his lips.

“No,” he murmured, stepping towards her once more. “I simply like having you to myself.”

Her breath hitched.

He was in front of her again, behind the counter this time, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough that she could see the shadow of stubble on his jaw, the storm-dark glint in his eyes.

She should push him away. Should tell him to leave, to undo whatever had just begun between them.

Instead, she whispered, “You are insufferable.”

Lando smirked. “So you’ve told me.”

His lips were on hers again, and this time, there was no hesitation, no restraint.

She gasped softly against his mouth, but he swallowed the sound, one hand rising to cradle the side of her face, the other finding purchase at her waist, pulling her flush against him.

The counter dug into her back, but she hardly noticed.

All she knew was the way his hands gripped her, firm and unyielding, as though he had been holding himself back for far too long.

She curled her fingers into his coat, pulling him impossibly closer, tilting her head as his lips moved against hers with a fervour that sent heat pooling low in her stomach.

His thumb traced the curve of her cheek, slow, reverent, a stark contrast to the desperate, almost bruising kiss he pressed to her lips.

This was reckless.

This was foolish.

This was—

A moan slipped past her lips before she could stop it, and Lando exhaled sharply, breaking away only to press his mouth to the side of her throat, his breath hot against her skin.

She should stop this.

Shouldn’t she?

His teeth grazed the delicate line of her jaw, and her resolve shattered.

Her hands slipped beneath his coat, fingers splaying against the warm linen of his shirt, feeling the solid muscle beneath, the quick, steady beat of his heart.

He groaned softly, his grip tightening at her waist.

“God help me,” he murmured against her skin. “Tell me to leave, and I will.”

She could not.

Instead, she tangled her fingers into his hair, tilting his head back just enough to meet his gaze.

“Stay,” she whispered.

And so he did.

The Revolution was growing bolder.

Skirmishes turned to battles, whispers of rebellion swelled into cries of war, and the streets were no longer safe after dark.

With each passing week, Lando’s visits grew scarce.

She told herself she did not mind. That it was better this way.

And yet, whenever the bell above the shop door jangled, she could not stop the way her breath caught, the way her heart leapt foolishly in her chest.

When at last he returned, one late, quiet evening, when the rain pattered soft against the window panes, she did not greet him with words.

She simply stared, taking him in.

He looked tired. Not just weary, but bone tired, as though the weight of the war had begun to settle upon his shoulders.

But when he met her gaze, he smiled, soft and unguarded.

She exhaled, stepping forward. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten me.”

Lando hummed, reaching for her hand, his fingers brushing hers. “Impossible.”

She shook her head, though she did not pull away. “You should not be here.”

“Unfortunately for you,” he murmured, tilting his head, “here I stand.”

A quiet laugh escaped her lips, and he watched her, as he always did, as though committing her to memory, piece by piece.

From the folds of his coat, he withdrew a small, silver locket.

She raised a brow. “Sentimental, are we?”

He smirked but said nothing, instead pressing the locket into her hands.

Curious, she pried it open, only to find, tucked within, a tiny, delicate sketch of herself.

Her breath caught.

It was not an artist’s masterpiece, just a simple drawing, likely done in stolen moments, but the likeness was unmistakable.

She swallowed thickly. “Lando—”

“I keep it with me,” he said quietly, his voice lacking its usual teasing lilt. “Always.”

Something lodged in her throat, something she could not quite name.

She glanced up, and there he was, watching her with something too raw, too real, for her to pretend this was anything less than dangerous.

With slow, deliberate movements, he took the locket from her hands and tucked it safely inside his coat.

That damn red coat.

She huffed a soft laugh. “You keep me close to your heart, and yet you tuck me into the enemy’s colours.”

Lando grinned, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards. “A cruel irony, isn’t it?”

She sighed, shaking her head as she reached up to adjust the folds of his coat, her fingers lingering over the brass buttons. “One day, someone will see that locket, and you will have to explain why a British soldier carries the face of an American woman.”

Lando exhaled, his hands finding her waist, his touch warm even through the fabric of her dress. “Then let them ask.”

She rolled her eyes, though her pulse stuttered at the tenderness in his voice.

He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her knuckles.

And though she would never admit it, never dare say it, she prayed, in that moment, that war would be kinder to him than it had been to so many others.

Because she was not sure her heart could bear it if one day, the man in the red coat never returned.

He lingered in the doorway, his fingers grazing hers one last time before he stepped back into the night.

She watched him go, the red of his coat disappearing into the shadows, the echo of his footsteps swallowed by the hush of rain-soaked streets.

Only when he was truly gone did she let out a slow, unsteady breath, pressing her palm against her chest as if she might steady the frantic beat of her heart.

And then—

“I knew it.”

She froze.

The voice came from the stairway, low but laced with something sharp, something between disbelief and exasperation.

Slowly, she turned.

There, half-shrouded in the dim candlelight, stood her sister.

Arms folded, brow raised, mouth set in that maddening way that meant she had seen everything.

A slow dread coiled in her stomach.

Her sister stepped forward, voice quieter now, but no less insistent. “That could get you killed, you know.”

She swallowed, forcing her voice to remain level. “I don’t know what you—”

Her sister scoffed. “Don’t insult me.”

She clenched her jaw, lifting her chin. “Then perhaps you should stop lurking in doorways.”

Her sister gave her a look, the one that had always made her feel as though she were made of glass, easily seen through, no matter how carefully she tried to hide.

Silence stretched between them.

And then, softly, too softly, her sister said, “I didn’t see anything.”

A beat of stillness.

Then she exhaled, her shoulders slumping ever so slightly.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Her sister hummed, watching her closely. “He knew from the beginning, didn’t he?”

Her breath hitched. “What?”

“The moment he set foot in this shop.” Her sister tilted her head, gaze unreadable. “He knew.”

She did not answer.

Could not.

Because the truth was there, settled deep in her chest like an ache she could not shake.

Yes. He had known.

From the very first moment, when their sharp words had curled between them like smoke. When he had met her defiance not with scorn, but amusement.

When he had stepped too close and she had let him.

Her sister sighed, rubbing a hand across her face. “God help us both.”

She swallowed. “You won’t tell anyone?”

Her sister hesitated, only for a second. Then she shook her head.

“No.”

She felt something in her chest ease, if only slightly.

But then her sister met her gaze again, her expression unreadable.

“But you must be careful,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “Because one day, someone else will see. And they may not be so kind.”

She nodded, though the truth of those words settled heavily upon her.

Because she knew.

She knew that this could not last forever.

And yet, no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise—

She was not sure she could bear to stop.

Following that night, she swore she would be careful.

She would guard her words, her glances, the restless ache in her chest.

She would not linger too long at the window, nor let her breath hitch at the sound of boots upon the cobblestones.

And yet.

Lando had not come back.

Not since that night, when he had pressed a kiss to her knuckles and tucked her likeness into the folds of his red coat.

Not since her sister’s warning had settled into her bones like a chill that would not leave.

She had counted the days.

Ten.

Then fifteen.

Then twenty.

The war had not stopped for them, nor for anyone. Battles raged beyond the city walls, each new whisper of violence twisting her stomach with something she refused to name.

It was foolish to worry.

Foolish to let her mind wander to every possible fate that might have befallen him.

A skirmish. An ambush. A captured redcoat. A man bleeding into the dirt, far from home.

She swallowed hard, pressing her palms to the worn counter, willing herself to be steady.

You are not his wife. You are not even his beloved.

She was nothing to him.

And yet, she still counted the days.

Still turned at the sound of the bell, still felt the foolish, desperate spark of hope before realising—

It was never him.

Never the man in the red coat who had stolen a piece of her heart, whether she had willed it or not.

And so she continued to count.

Until, at last, she lost track altogether.

The fire had burned low in the hearth, its embers casting long shadows against the wooden walls.

She was kneeling behind the counter, restocking the shelves with careful, measured movements, anything to keep her mind from wandering where it should not.

Outside, winter had settled in earnest, the streets dusted with a thin layer of frost, the air sharp enough to sting the lungs.

The shop was quiet.

Too quiet.

She had almost convinced herself that she was alone, until the door slammed open with a force that rattled the windows.

She started, knocking over a tin of dried herbs as a figure stumbled inside, breathless and wild-eyed.

Her sister.

Cheeks flushed from the cold, strands of hair escaping her bonnet, her hands gripping the doorframe as she fought to catch her breath.

She took one look at her and knew, something was wrong.

Her sister sucked in a sharp breath and choked out, “The redcoat.”

The world seemed to tilt.

She rose to her feet, heart hammering. “What?”

A strangled sound left her lips before she braced a hand against the doorframe once more, wheezing out—

“Your redcoat. The square.”

Her blood ran cold.

She did not think. Did not hesitate.

She ran.

Her sister called after her, but she did not stop, only heard the hurried footfalls as she followed.

The streets were near-empty, the air thick with the promise of snow, but she hardly felt the cold.

The square was not far.

And yet, every step felt like wading through sand, like the city itself was conspiring to keep her from what lay ahead.

Then, at last, they turned the corner—

And she saw him.

Saw them.

A group of men, American soldiers, ragged and battle-worn, their uniforms mismatched but their resolve unshaken.

And in their grasp, forced to his knees in the frozen dirt, was Lando.

Her breath left her in a silent gasp.

His coat was torn, his hands bound behind his back. Blood ran from a fresh cut above his brow, tracing a path down his cheek, staining the collar of his coat.

One of the men stood behind him, rifle in hand.

Another gripped him by the hair, jerking his head up so he had no choice but to meet their eyes.

And oh, God.

She had never seen him like this.

Lando was many things, cocky, insufferable, sharp-tongued even in the face of peril.

But now?

Now he was silent.

Not broken.

Not yet.

But close.

A sick sort of panic twisted in her gut, and she felt her sister’s hand clamp around her wrist, holding her back.

“You cannot,” she whispered fiercely.

But she barely heard her.

Her pulse roared in her ears, her breath coming too fast, too uneven, as she stared at him, willing him to lift his gaze, to see her.

As if she might find the right words, the right plea, to undo whatever horror was about to unfold

And then, as if summoned by her silent desperation—

Lando did look up.

Bloodied, battered—

And smirking.

Her stomach twisted violently.

He was taunting them.

Even now, on his knees in the dirt, a prisoner of war, he was taunting them.

God help her.

She had to stop this.

Somehow.

Before it was too late.

Lando spat blood onto the frozen earth, tilting his head back with a slow, insufferable grin.

“Is that the best you can do?” he rasped, voice raw but laced with amusement. “I’ve met barmaids with a harder swing.”

The soldier gripping his hair scowled. “You’ve a sharp tongue for a man about to lose his.”

Lando chuckled lowly, even as pain laced through his jaw. “A shame. I’ve grown rather fond of it.”

The man standing before him, broad-shouldered, face shadowed by the brim of his hat, exhaled sharply through his nose, before drawing a knife from his belt.

The steel caught the dim light as he crouched, fingers curling around the rope binding Lando’s hands.

“You want to fight?” he murmured.

And then—slash.

The rope between his wrists snapped apart, the strands fraying, falling uselessly to the ground.

Lando flexed his fingers, rolling his shoulders despite the stiff ache. He lifted his gaze, meeting the soldier’s eyes with something close to amusement.

“Oh, you really shouldn’t have done that.”

The soldier smirked. “Thought I’d give you a fair chance, Redcoat.”

Another man scoffed, spitting into the dirt. “What’s the point? He’s not worth the time.”

The first man arched a brow. “Then what do you suggest?”

A beat of silence.

Then a third soldier, leaner, his coat patchy from wear, jerked his chin towards the bridge at the edge of the square.

“Throw him in the river.”

Lando stilled.

The first soldier turned. “You serious?”

“Deadly.”

Lando let out a sharp breath, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “I take it all back. You’re all very hard men. No need to prove it further.”

But they had already made up their minds.

Rough hands seized him, one at his arm, another at the collar of his coat. His boots scraped against the ground as they hauled him up, dragging him towards the bridge.

And for the first time, something in Lando’s chest tightened.

Not at the prospect of the river itself, but at what lay beneath—frozen waters, jagged ice.

A man could drown in silence like that, and not be found until the thaw.

His pulse kicked up, but still, his mouth curled at the corners. “If you wanted to get me alone, you need only have asked.”

No one laughed.

The square blurred around him as they pulled him forward, his boots catching against the cobbles.

Then—

A scream.

High, sharp, cutting through the bitter air like a blade.

The men faltered, just for a second, but it was enough.

Because he heard it.

Knew it.

Felt it in his chest before he even turned his head.

And then he saw her.

She stood at the edge of the square, hands clenched at her sides, her chest heaving as though she had run all the way from hell itself.

Her eyes—God, her eyes—

Wide. Wild.

Filled with something he did not know how to name.

Something dangerous.

One of the soldiers followed his gaze, brow furrowing. “Who the hell is—?”

“She’s no one,” Lando cut in sharply, though his voice lacked its usual easy arrogance.

Because he knew.

Knew she was not no one.

Not to him.

And now they had seen her.

Now they knew.

And if she did not run—

God help them both.

The bridge loomed before them, dark against the winter sky, the river below a slithering mass of black and silver.

Lando dug his heels into the ground, but the hands gripping him only tightened, shoving him forward with renewed force.

He let out a sharp breath, lifting his chin. “This seems excessive.”

No response.

The edge of the bridge met his boots.

The drop was not a great one—but the waters below were half-frozen, shifting sluggishly between sheets of ice.

A man could survive it.

If luck allowed.

But luck had never much favoured him.

The hands at his collar shoved him forward—

And then he was falling.

Cold wind roared in his ears, his stomach lurching as he plunged down, down—

And then—

Impact.

The river swallowed him whole.

Freezing.

Brutal.

The shock tore the breath from his lungs, ice biting into his skin like teeth, the weight of his coat dragging him down.

The world blurred.

Darkness. Cold. Silence.

Somewhere above—

A voice.

High. Frantic.

A scream that cut through the wind.

But then the water pulled him further, and he knew nothing more.

Above, a voice shouted “Hey!”

The shout rang across the bridge, sharp and commanding.

The American soldiers turned, startled.

Another group of men had appeared at the far end of the street, British soldiers, red coats stark against the grey of the sky.

Panic flared in the Americans’ eyes.

One of them cursed under his breath. “To hell with it—go!”

And then they ran.

Boots pounding against stone, their figures vanishing into the fog before the British soldiers could reach them.

But she did not care.

Did not see them go.

Because she was already running.

Heart hammering against her ribs, breath tearing through her lungs.

She reached the bridge, hands gripping the cold stone as she peered over the edge.

And froze.

Below, the river churned.

Dark and violent.

And floating amidst the swirling current, barely visible between the sheets of ice—

Was him.

Back to her, red coat glaring up at her, like some sick joke.

Her breath caught.

“No—”

She turned wildly, eyes locking onto the British soldiers. “Save him!” she pleaded, voice cracking. “Someone do something!”

But none of them moved.

They only looked at her, their expressions unreadable.

Tension rippled through them.

He was one of them, yes, but he had been captured. He had been marked.

And for all they knew, he was already dead.

She shook.

Chest rising and falling too fast, hands curling into fists.

“Please—”

But still, they did not move.

And the realisation crushed her.

No one was going to help.

No one was going to save him.

A sharp sob tore from her throat, and suddenly.

Arms wrapped around her.

Warm. Familiar.

Her sister.

Pulling her close. Holding her tight.

And at last, she broke.

Collapsed into her, shoulders shaking, gasping for breath as tears burned.

The river below carried Lando further, the dark waters swallowing him whole.

And she could do nothing but weep.

A week and a half had passed.

The river had long since stilled, the ice thickening over its surface, sealing its secrets beneath.

The town had moved on.

And so, she supposed, must she.

She had spent the first few days locked away, claiming illness when her parents questioned her absence. Her sister had run the shop in her stead, sparing her from the knowing looks, the pitying glances.

But now she was back behind the counter, hands busying themselves with small, mindless tasks, though her heart was elsewhere.

Somewhere beneath the frozen waters.

She did not turn when the bell above the door chimed, announcing the entrance of another customer.

Another red coat.

They came often, these days. Their presence no longer made her breath catch, no longer sent ice through her veins.

She did not look at them.

She did not dare.

She simply pressed her lips together, smoothing the creases in her apron. “May I help you?”

Silence.

Then—

“May I speak to you?”

Something in the tone made her still.

Not sharp, nor commanding, as most of them were.

This was softer. Measured.

Cautious.

Only then did she look up.

He was young.

No older than Lando.

Dark hair, serious eyes. A red coat, pristine and well-fitted, but worn with a weight that did not suit him.

Her brow furrowed. “I—”

But then.

He reached into his coat.

And pulled out a locket.

Her breath vanished.

She knew it.

Even before he stepped closer, even before he placed it on the counter, she knew it.

The same locket she had watched him tuck into the folds of his coat that night.

The same locket that should have been—

Her hands trembled as she reached for it, fingers ghosting over the cold metal.

And beside it—

A scrap of fabric.

Dark red.

Torn.

Stained with something too dark to be ink.

The floor beneath her swayed.

She swallowed, willing her voice to remain steady. “Where did you—?”

“I found it.”

She looked up sharply.

The soldier—no, the man—watched her carefully, expression unreadable.

He exhaled, then lowered his voice.

“My name is Oscar. I was—” He hesitated. “I am Lando’s closest friend.”

Her stomach twisted.

“I followed the riverbank,” Oscar continued. “Days after. His coat washed up on the shore. Torn, bloodied. But no sign of him.”

Her fingers curled into the fabric, something breaking inside her chest.

No sign of him.

No body.

Just this.

Oscar’s voice softened. “I thought you should have it.”

The world blurred.

Her throat burned, her breath coming too fast, too shallow.

She could not.

A choked sound left her lips, and before she could stop herself.

She collapsed into him.

Oscar caught her without hesitation, his arms warm and steady as he held her upright.

And in the middle of the shop, in the arms of a man she did not know, she wept.

Silent, shuddering sobs that shook through her whole body.

Because he was the only one, besides her sister, who knew.

And for the first time since she had watched him disappear beneath the ice—

She was not alone.

Oscar remained close as she pulled herself together, his arms steady around her as she wiped her eyes, embarrassed by the flood of tears that had come without warning.

He didn’t speak at first, just waited, his presence a quiet comfort.

When she finally found her breath again, she drew away from him, her hands trembling as she reached for the locket once more. She traced her finger across the metal, feeling the weight of it, feeling Lando’s absence.

Oscar cleared his throat. “If you ever need anything—”

She looked up sharply, meeting his eyes.

“I’m in the barracks, just by the bridge. You can find me there, any time. If—if you need to speak, or...” His voice faltered slightly, but he steadied himself quickly. “Or if you need help. I’m no good with words, but I’ll do what I can.”

She nodded, though the words seemed distant.

Her gaze drifted back to the locket, and a small, hollow laugh bubbled up in her chest.

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” she said, almost to herself.

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Funny?”

“Just…” Her words trailed off as she shook her head, looking out the window at the frost-covered streets. “The revolution was supposed to give us freedom—freedom to live as we please. To make our own choices.”

She let out a bitter chuckle. “And yet, here I am. Befriending a redcoat.”

Oscar’s expression softened, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “I’m not quite like the others.”

“No,” she agreed quietly. “But still... Funny how it works out, isn’t it? The freedom I wanted so badly, and yet…” Her voice faltered for a moment, her mind flickering back to the other redcoat—the one who had captured her heart in the most unexpected of ways. “I ended up falling in love with redcoat and befriend his friend.”

Oscar didn’t speak for a long moment, but when he did, his voice was gentle, understanding.

“I think sometimes, the world doesn’t give us what we expect,” he said softly. “It gives us what we need.”

She glanced at him, his words ringing in her ears. But still, she could not shake the weight of her heart, heavy with loss, heavy with the uncertainty of what had happened to Lando, and the strange, impossible twist of fate that had led her to where she was now.

Oscar cleared his throat again, stepping back slightly. “I’ll leave you to your work. I just thought… well, I thought you ought to know. And if ever you need me…” He paused, giving her a small nod. “I’ll be there.”

She managed a smile, though it was faint. “Thank you, Oscar. Truly.”

He turned to leave, but she called after him, her voice quieter now. “I’m sorry for what happened to Lando. I know it was no easier for you.”

Oscar gave her a final look, his face unreadable. “It wasn’t. But he’d have wanted you to know he didn’t go quietly.”

And with that, he was gone.

She stood there for a long time after, holding the locket, running her fingers over the edges.

She hadn’t expected any of this, none of it.

The war. The revolution. The quiet, fragile peace she had sought.

The friends she had made, enemies turned companions. And love.

A love she had never thought possible with someone who wore the very coat she had come to despise.

A love that seemed, now, so impossible.

Yet here she was.

And now… now she was without him.

part two...

taglist: @lilorose25 @curseofhecate @number-0-iz @dozyisdead @dragonfly047 @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @sluttyharry30 @n0vazsq @carlossainzapologist @iamred-iamyellow @iimplicitt @driverlando @geauxharry @hzstry @oikarma @chilling-seavey

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saffusthings · 3 days ago

Text

second chances

mob boss! lando norris x reader

part twenty-seven: margot

word count: 4.5k

warnings: the chapter contains violence and gore. reader discretion is advised.

twenty-six | twenty-seven | twenty-eight

It had been twenty-four days.

It wasn’t meant to be a big deal—twenty-four days wasn’t much, not really. Less than a month. A stretch of time that could pass without much fanfare. But when you were used to someone being a part of your every day—quietly, seamlessly—three and a half weeks felt like a shift in orbit.

She didn’t let herself dwell on it too much. People got busy. Work piled up. Life did what it always did—moved forward whether you were ready or not.

Still, her mornings felt slightly off. He’d been around long enough that she’d stopped checking the street before heading out, stopped glancing over her shoulder, stopped carrying that low buzz of unease she used to ignore. He’d made her feel safer without making a point of it. That absence hung in the air now—not threatening, not ominous. Just… noticeable.

Life had picked up again—there were essays to finish, coffee orders to mess up, the unrelenting rhythm of the city around her. She’d made it this far without needing him. Whatever space he’d carved into her routine, she was clearly capable of patching over. Even he could be temporary, inconsequential.

It’s not like she was waiting for him, or something. She wasn’t. And yet…

She still half-glanced at every black car that slowed by her building. She still paused outside cafés without knowing why. Still unlocked her phone more often than necessary, only to scroll past the name that used to light up her screen.

Once, a barista drew a little bear in her foam. She smiled, took the photo without thinking, thumb hovering over the send button—before locking the phone again and tucking it deep into her coat pocket.

She didn’t want to be dramatic about it. She didn’t want to chase someone who clearly wanted space. So, she adjusted. She wasn’t going to be the one to reach out, not again. Not after that.

If he wanted space, he could have all of it.

Lando noticed the silence long before he was ready to admit it.

No more photos in the middle of the day. No blurry videos of a latte she’d screwed up or some dog she thought looked like him. No sarcastic commentary about a book she swore he’d hate.

His phone had gone quiet. And it should’ve been a good thing.

He’d told himself he needed space, and now he had it.

Still, his eyes flicked toward his phone more often than they should. He kept it face-up now, just in case. Some nights, muscle memory had him opening their messages, stopping short of replying to any of them. He’d drafted something once. Deleted it before the second sentence.

He worked more. Stayed later at the office. Picked up meetings he would’ve normally sent Logan to handle. He trained harder. Sparred longer. There was no time to think when your knuckles were raw and your lungs were burning.

He worked until his eyes blurred, until emails bled into contracts and contracts bled into calls, until the hum of exhaustion drowned out every thought that threatened to claw through the haze of being on autopilot.

Lando was still waiting.

Not actively. Not desperately. He wasn’t weak like that. But some part of him—a stubborn, half-wounded part buried somewhere behind all the noise—kept waiting for a sign. A text. A photo. A “hey, remember this?”

But none came.

Instead, his phone was quiet. He turned the notification volume up one night, for no reason at all. Just in case, a voice had whispered in the back of his mind. Then he turned it back down the next morning, cursing himself for being so fucking soft.

He boxed more often now. Longer, harder, sometimes until his hands went numb through the wraps. Logan kept his distance, especially after the reassignment. Lando had said it was a logistics thing. No one believed him, but no one pushed.

The others didn’t bring her up anymore. And Lando made sure to keep it that way.

She was a distraction. He’d removed her.

Everything was fine.

Well, except the mornings. The ones where she used to sit in his car with sleepy eyes and a sarcastic joke. Or the nights when he’d find a stupid meme from her just as he was ready to lose his mind over work. Or the way silence used to feel rare—earned—and now just felt like it was swallowing him whole.

Lando shrugged it all off.

She wasn’t his girlfriend. She wasn’t even—

Whatever. It didn’t matter.

He had his reasons, and he sure as hell didn’t owe anyone an explanation. It was cleaner this way. Simpler, certainly.

He was back in control, and everything was exactly how it used to be.

Before, they’d somehow inadvertently ended up spending almost every day side by side, without realizing how tightly they were stitching themselves into each other’s lives. Now, they moved through their days like strangers—living separate lives in the same city, thinking of each other too often and pretending not to.

It was easier to believe things were different.

They were never that close. She was probably just bored anyway. He’s just been busy. That’s all. Life goes on. People move on.

They persuaded themselves with tiny reassurances, built a quiet wall of denial brick by brick. She got used to not reaching out. Told herself she was being respectful, not overstepping. Told herself that it was better this way—less confusing, less messy. He had things to do. He didn’t need her cluttering up his life with dogs and coffee and half-baked thoughts at midnight.

And Lando told himself she probably didn’t even notice he was gone. That she had a full life, people around her. That he’d been the one stepping into something that was never meant to include him.

So they moved on.

But sometimes, when she walked past a coffee shop and smelled the roast he’d once insisted was undrinkable, she smiled without meaning to.

And sometimes, when he leaned against his desk and took a moment to peer out the magnificent windows and saw the skyline—the one they’d once admired as they sat side by side, wrapped in silence and something that almost felt like peace—he remembered her voice so clearly it made his throat go tight.

But they were fine.

Everything was fine.

The café was unusually slow for a Thursday morning. Rain tapped against the windows, soft and steady, blurring the outside world into a watercolor gray. It had been a quiet morning. The kind that made you forget things had ever felt complicated.

The café hummed with its usual rhythm—steam hissing from the espresso machine, the soft clink of cups stacking, the bell above the door chiming every few minutes with the gentle regularity of breath. It smelled like brown sugar and coffee beans and the damp pavement outside each time the door opened momentarily. Y/N’s apron was slightly stained with oat milk, and her hair was frizzing near her temples from the steam, but she didn’t mind.

Margot had just made some offhand comment about a customer trying to flirt his way into a free muffin, and they’d been laughing about it. That easy, familiar kind of laugh. The kind you only share with someone who’s seen you bone-tired, crabby, half-soaked in a fridge leak, and somehow still loves you.

She stood behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, steam rising from the milk pitcher as she worked on a cappuccino. Margot stood beside her, elbows propped against the edge, peeling a clementine with the lazy ease of someone who’d lived three lives. Perhaps nine.

“You know,” Margot said, voice low, “I was going to give you grief for coming in early again. But then I saw the bags under your eyes and figured—ah. Boy trouble.”

She snorted, pretending to focus on the drink in her hand. The latte art she’d been practicing ended up looking disfigured anyway – like a foamy blob instead of the elegant dove she’d intended for it to be. “There’s no boy. I just didn’t sleep well.”

“Mm. Didn’t sleep well,” Margot mocked, her words teasing as she automatically handed her a wedge of orange. “Back in my day, that was code for heartbreak.”

She took the piece, popped it in her mouth. “Maybe I just drank too much caffeine.”

Margot gave her a look, eyes sharp over the rim of her glasses. “You’ve been drinking too much caffeine since you were sixteen, or perhaps since birth. What is his name, hm?”

“No one.” She tried to smile. “It’s not like that.”

Margot didn’t push. She just reached over, tucked a stray curl behind her ear like it was nothing, like she’d done since the first day they met.

“Alright. No man. Just… promise me you’re eating. And not just those old pastries. Mange un légume ou deux, veux-tu?”

She nodded, throat suddenly tight. “Oui, I promise.”

Margot patted her shoulder. “Good. Now go check if we’ve got any more of that rose syrup. Those girls from the yoga studio will riot if I tell them we’re out again.”

“On it,” she said, grateful for something to do. She pushed through the backroom door, humming under her breath. Shelves lined the walls, cluttered and half-labeled. She tiptoed up, scanning the top rows.

“Come on, come on,” she muttered, stretching for the box.

“Top shelf, right side,” the elderly woman yelled, as if somehow magically able to tell. “Don’t break your neck.”

The stockroom was dim and tight, cold air from the walk-in leaking under the door. She scanned the shelves, fingers brushing labels. Maple, rosewater, the weird chili one no one liked…

And then—

Sharp, but distant. A car backfiring, maybe, or something falling.

What?

Then, a second one.

This one was closer. Inside. Her chest tightened and suddenly, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. The bottle of syrup slipped from her hands and hit the floor with a dull thud. Her heart stopped, then slammed back into rhythm, hard and chaotic.

The air changed. The silence after the sound was worse than the sound itself.

Another one.

Then two more, fast. The fifth and sixth were unmistakable.

Gunshots.

Her breath caught in her throat. Instinct took over, pulling her down behind a stack of inventory before her brain could even process the sound. Her hands trembled where they clutched the edge of a box. Cold air from the fridge brushed her spine, but her skin was burning.She pressed herself back against the metal shelving, heart hammering so loud she was sure it would give her away.

Something told her they stopped, but between the ringing in her ears and the hammering in her chest it was difficult to be certain. As soon as some semblance of silence settled, however, her mouth went dry.

Margot.

Her heart lurched.

Margot had been there. Margot had been standing just a few feet away. Hadn't she?

Without thinking, she moved. Her legs moved before logic could get in the way. Her hands gripped the backroom door, pushing it open with a force that sent it banging against the wall. She burst from the storeroom, shoes skidding against the tile floor. Her eyes searched, the café hazy now, her vision narrowed from adrenaline. The door had been blown inward. One of the front chairs was knocked over. And Margot—

No.

There was so much red.

Margot was on the ground, crumpled awkwardly, like someone had cut the strings holding her upright. Blood pooled too fast, too dark beneath her.

It soaked through the elderly woman’s apron, smeared across the floor like someone had tried to wipe it away. Her glasses were crooked, one lens cracked. She was breathing—barely. Each inhale a wet, rattling sound.

“No—no, no, no,” she gasped, falling to her knees. “Margot. Hey. Hey, look at me—fuck—look at me.”

Y/N’s heart punched in her throat. She was already moving forward, fingers shaking as she kneeled beside Margot, blood soaking her fingers the moment she touched her.

There was so much blood. Too much.

Pressure. That’s what you were supposed to do, right?

She had no clue how this worked. She just remembered some basic first aid crap she’d learned ages ago, something from an infomercial, or was it a book?

So she pressed harder, trying to stop the bleeding, but—

Why was there more blood?

Her breath came too fast, her hands trembling like a leaf in the wind as she tried to find something—anything—to slow it down. She could feel the warmth of it, see the way it spread. Her fingers slipped as she pressed harder, praying for a miracle.

No. No, no, no.

Her stomach lurched.

Margot? Margot, please.

Her fingers were slipping through the blood now, and her head spun, breath ragged. She felt useless. Why wasn’t it stopping? She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to steady herself, but it was impossible.

“No, no. Please, no—”

Margot blinked a second later, but slowly, like it took effort.

Y/N pressed her hands against the wound, not even sure which one, just trying to stop the blood from being everywhere. It just kept coming. She pressed down hard, too hard maybe, but it was the only thing she could do. “C’mon, you’re okay, you’re okay, I’ve got you, I’ve got you, it’s okay—just stay with me, please, Margot, please—”

She sounded young. She didn’t realize it until her voice cracked.

Margot was still warm. Her breath was shallow, lips parted just slightly, like she might say something but couldn’t find the words. One of her hands twitched like it had tried to move.

She curled closer, trying to shelter her somehow. As if that would help. As if her body could protect Margot’s.

Fuck. Fuck. Say something. C’mon, you gotta say something–

“You’re okay, alright? You’re gonna be okay,” she whispered, shaking. “It’s fine. I’ve got you. You’re not going anywhere.”

Somewhere outside, tires screeched. People yelled. Sirens wailed, far-off but getting closer.

Margot coughed, the faint stain of blood tinging the cracks in her lips now. Her hand reached up, weakly, touched her cheek. A gesture she’d done a thousand times.

“No, non,” she chided weakly, barely audible. “Don’t cry, mon chéri.”

“M’not,” Y/N lied, voice breaking. “I’m not crying. I’m– You’re gonna be okay.”

Y/N brought one of her own trembling hands to place over Margot’s, holding it where it cradled her cheek. She shut her eyes tightly, convincing herself she didn’t need to memorize the feel of those soft wrinkled hands in case it was the last time she’d ever get to feel them.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she tried to hold pressure with one hand now, trying to keep Margot’s blood inside, to rewind time. Her knees were soaked. The world blurred. Her lungs couldn’t find air.

“Where the fuck are they?” she screamed to no one, her voice hoarse with desperation. “Where the fuck is everyone? Anyone! Aidez-Moi! Help me!”

Margot’s fingers slipped away from her face. Y/N gave her hand a gentle squeeze before placing it in her lap, helping her save her strength. Margot would need all the strength she could get, right?

She kept pressing, even when her hands started to ache. Even as those kind grey eyes began to blink more slowly.

“Please. Please, please, please don’t—don’t do this, okay? You still owe me that lemon cake recipe. You still haven’t met my—” Her throat caught. “You can’t. You can’t.”

Her voice broke, and she was talking to herself more than to Margot as she rambled out apologies and pleas.

“You have to be okay. You can’t go. Please don’t leave me. I can't— I can’t do this alone, you know that.”

The words spilled out, raw and desperate. She tried to convince herself, tried to keep some shred of composure. She shifted, trying to lift Margot just a bit, to get a better angle, but the blood kept coming. More, more, more. Her hands were slick with it now, the viscous substance coating her skin. Margot’s lips trembled, a faint breath escaping.

“I’ve got you. I’m here. You’re okay. Please, please... just be okay. Please, please. Don’t leave me, Margot. I can’t—” Her voice cracked, the words coming in jagged gasps. She was losing herself, losing control of everything, the panic squeezing her chest until she couldn’t think straight.

Margot coughed once, an ugly hacking thing before she spluttered. Her chest gave a faint, labored rise and fall, like a thread pulling through water, faint but still there. The corner of her lips formed a weak version of the smile the young woman would recognize anywhere.

“So brave, ma belle fille,” she hummed softly.

For a moment, her heart swelled with anger. Her hand trembled as she held the pressure again. “No, no! Stop it! Please, just hold on. Please, you have to hold on. I can't do this without you, I need you. You’re– You’re all I have, okay?”

Her face morphed into some sad attempt at a smile, a desperate attempt at reassurance. But Y/N’s eyes were too watery and lips trembled too much for Margot to get to see her darling girl’s beautiful smile, sweet and radiant as the sun.

She tried to recall all the other times she’d gotten to see it when her mind provided her with the image of that very first day – a younger Y/N, shy and awkward and looking terribly lonely, smiling brightly at the sight of fresh coffee and something warm to eat.

But Margot struggled to remember that warmth now, struggled to remember the hot summer breeze from years ago. All she felt now was the cold, because suddenly it was terribly cold.

Y/N’s fingers dug into the blood-soaked fabric of Margot’s shirt, the hammering in her chest threatening to crack her sternum in half. She felt the heat of her own tears mixing with the sweat on her face. Everything was slowly blurring together.

Please don’t leave me.

Margot’s hand twitched. It was weak, but it was a movement. The tiniest sign of life, and for a second, Y/N clung to it, her breath coming back in shallow, frantic gasps.

She couldn’t lose her.

Not yet.

The phone call was a blur, the desperation in her voice barely cutting through the ringing in her ears. She wasn’t thinking, wasn’t processing the words as she frantically hit the call button with shaking fingers.

“Liam,” she gasped, the name falling from her lips the one someone may beg a saint. “I—I need you. Please. It’s Margot. She’s—” The words hit her throat like shards of glass. “She’s hurt,and now- and the blood, oh. There’s so much blood–”

The young woman let out a choked sob, something thick and ugly lodged in her chest. “I- I don’t know what to do, it won’t stop, I’m trying–”

“Tell me where you are,” he replied instantly.

“I’m putting pressure, and I keep trying to talk to her but she won’t– she won’t–”

“I need you to tell me where you are, Y/N. Now, alright?” his voice was firm, but not unkind– just stern enough to pierce through the haze of panic long enough to hold her attention.

“I’m– The cafe, the cafe. Please, Liam, hurry!”

The line went dead after that, but Y/N didn’t care. Her focus was on Margot—on the blood, the rising panic, the fear that tore at her insides. Her hands were shaking so violently now, she couldn’t hold on anymore, but she refused to let go of Margot’s limp body. She wasn’t—Margot wasn’t gone.

No, she couldn’t be.

Seconds felt like hours, but then there was finally a sound. Tires screeching, and then the rev of an engine. Her heart leaped as the door slammed open.

Liam stood there, barely minutes after the call ended. He’d come fast, so fast. There he stood, strong and steady, his eyes scanning the scene before landing on her. It was almost like he’d been waiting for her to need him, even though he had no idea how badly. But now suddenly there he was, that familiar silhouette walking through the entryway like some divine savior.

Liam’s here. He’ll take care of everything, and then everything will be okay, right?

Liam knows how to make things okay.

Everything’s gonna be okay.

Sirens sounded in the distance.

She was kneeling beside Margot, her hands stained with too much blood, her heart so heavy it felt it was crushing her lungs, stealing her ability to breathe. Her chest tightened as she watched the paramedics step forward, the familiar beeping of equipment and their cool, methodical movements only making her panic worse.

“No,” she whispered, her voice cracking. She clutched tighter, desperate. Her voice wavered like a child’s, begging like she had nothing left to give. “Please, no. Please? Don’t take her—don’t you dare take her, I need her. I need her!”

They reached closer to her, to the woman who had given Y/N everything but her name – who had given her a roof over her head, clothes on her back, food on her plate, and perhaps most importantly, someone to call family. When they did, the younger woman flinched, instinctively curling around the still-warm body in her hands like there was something still left to protect.

She turned to look at Margot, who must have closed her eyes because she was tired – she always did get tired so easily nowadays – and she asked her. Margot always listened when she asked, right? Margot would listen.

A small, shaky hand barely let go of Margot’s side, only to come up and cradle the side of her face. The action caused a small smudge of deep red to appear on her skin where the color once used to be, and immediately, Y/N hated it.

No, no, that doesn’t look right. Margot wouldn’t like that.

She quickly tried to find a clean corner of her sleeve to try to wipe it away, to wipe away the tingle of blood until she could see the natural blush that always dusted the apple of her cheeks. She’d always been beautiful, Margot – stunning eyes, rosy cheeks and lots of smile lines from decades of good laughs. She’d often tell Y/N that she’d had a “movie star” face when she was younger, that she was on her way to an audition when she ran into the man that would eventually become her husband. The name of the movie she’d gone to audition for changed every time, but they’d simply laugh about it each time.

Y/N would let her tell all the stories she wanted if it just meant she’d talk to her.

“... Margot? Margot, don’t go! Please, don’t go! Please!”

For some reason, Margot wouldn’t answer her.

Y/N shook her gently, desperate for an answer. She didn’t want to let these strangers near Margot, she couldn’t, she wouldn’t.

The paramedics were gentle but firm. They moved to try to pull Margot’s body from her grasp, but Y/N didn’t let go, her fingers wrapped around Margot’s wrist as though the force of her touch could stop everything. She was shaking, crying, unable to breathe. The world was spinning, everything spinning, until—

“Y/N,” came Lando’s voice, low and steady.

She didn’t look at him at first, couldn’t. She was caught in the agony, trapped in the raw panic that gripped her chest.

“Y/N, you’ve got to let go of her, alright? C’mon now,” he spoke, his voice calm and unwavering, but there was a tinge of pain there—something Y/N couldn’t quite place.

But it wasn’t about him. Not right now. Not when Margot was slipping away.

“I—I can’t,” she whimpered, tears streaming down her face. “I can’t... not her. Please. She’s all I have left. I need her!”

His hands were on her then—so gentle, but strong, like something steady in a world that felt like it was falling apart. His warmth wrapped around her as he knelt to sit beside her, his torso firm against her back and his voice a soft murmur against her ear, trying to pull her from the chaos.

“I know,” Lando whispered, his hand sliding stroking softly along her back. “I know, Angel. I’m here. I’m here I’ve got you, yeah? C’mon, I’ve got you, I promise.”

The paramedics approached closer as they attempted to work quickly, carefully, but they were too late. The beeping of the equipment had long since gone flat, as if there had been no pulse at all, the silence so loud it felt like it was crushing her. A deep, suffocating silence that filled the air. She couldn’t hear anything except the ringing in her ears. She could barely feel anything except the numbness that was creeping in, filling every part of her.

And then, Lando’s larger hands, warm and firm, encompassed her own as he gently peeled her fingers away from Margot’s body. His fingers slowly came to close around her own, still curled and stiff from how long she’d been holding on. He wasn’t forcing her, but his touch was steady, unyielding. She could slowly begin to feel the sensation of the pads of his thumbs gently stroking across her knuckles on each hand, a soothing back and forth motion. It was just enough to draw her out of the tight hold she had on Margot.

“Hey, look at me. Look at me.” His voice is low and calm as he crouches beside her. Her hands are slick, shaking, still pressed to Margot’s chest. “You’ve done everything you can, alright? You’ve done enough. Let ‘em take it from here.”

“Oh angel,” he breathes, softer now, like it hurts to say. Like it’s all he’s got. Her hands won’t let go—won’t stop pressing, blood blooming between her fingers. She’s crying now, whispering nonsense, pleading.

“Hey, hey,” he says again, firmer this time as he wraps his arms around her, prying her hands free. “She needs help, and so do you. It’s… It’ll be okay. She’ll be okay. You just have to let them take her, Y/N,” Lando’s voice broke through the fog in her mind.

“Please, angel.”

She couldn’t move. Her body was frozen, her hand still clutching Margot’s lifeless wrist, but his presence was enough to make her feel like she could maybe begin to breathe again. The warmth of him—his strength—was steady, grounding. Like it was starting to melt the frost frozen around the bubble that encompassed this moment.

He pulled her gently into his chest then, his arm around her back, holding her close as she continued to shake, unable to speak. Her sobs came in ragged gasps. She was a mess—her clothes, her hands, her face smeared with Margot’s blood. Her body felt like it didn’t belong to her anymore.

But Lando held her, steady and silent. His chest rising and falling beneath her as she buried her face into the fabric of his shirt. His hand was smoothing over her back, soothing, like he was trying to piece her back together. Like if he held her long enough, she’d feel the chasm in her chest begin to close.

For a long while, they just stayed there, the paramedics doing their job in the background, the sharp scent of blood mixing with the damp smell of rain on pavement. But none of that mattered. Not anymore.

Lando had her, even when everything else slipped away.

a/n: so...

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