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racinginchid3nt · 1 year ago

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I’d Probably Still Adore You | Part Four

Y/N x Lance Stroll, Y/N Best Friend x Pierre

Gasly plus some mild Y/N x Lando Norris and Y/N x Carlos Sainz bits

In which a night at the club and a game of never have I ever turns into something new

Inspired by 505 - Arctic Monkeys

Warnings: The start of the smut is here folks. 18+ only

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

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Sunday

As you walked into the club arm and arm with Y/N Best Friend, you knew you’d underestimated the night. The security was strict, having checked your IDs against the list in his hand. Paparazzi and fans alike gathered around the entrance, cameras flashing.

The lights were dim, drinks flowing freely through the crowded room. Everywhere you looked you were surrounded by familiar faces, drivers, mechanics, girlfriends, friends of the drivers, celebrities, and more. The lights from the DJ booth danced around the room to the beat of the music, speckling the crowd in shades of blues, greens, and reds. The metallic of your dress shone even brighter because of it.

As you made your way to the table, you took in the occupants in the section. For the drivers, Pierre, Carlos, Lando, Oscar, Charles, and Max say around, drinks in their hands. Beside Max say his girlfriend Kelly. A pretty blonde was seated next to Lando, his friend Max on her other side.

As Y/N Best Friend settled on to Pierre’s lap, Lando jumped from his seat.

“Y/N! You made it! Lovely to see you again.” The Brit exclaimed. “Come sit. We can make room.”

As he shuffled closer to the blonde, a space opened between him and Carlos. You settled in quickly, a tight squeeze between the two. The Spaniard’s eyes were already hazy already, the alcohol taking its effect already. Despite it you watched as he took you in, dropping his eyes slowly from your face, to your chest, and down to the exposed skin of your legs.

“I’m sorry about your race.” You stated.

“It happens and it sucks. But right now, I think there’s much better things to worry about.” He replied. Those big brown eyes staring into yours.

You felt an arm make its way to your shoulders from your other side. The attached hand making it’s way to the ends of your hair, twirling the pieces around absentmindedly.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Lando asked. “Order whatever you want, it’s on Verstappen tonight.”

Before you knew it a drink made it’s way into your hand. Then another. And another. And another. As the liquor began to set in, your desire to dance grew stronger.

Making eye contact with Y/N Best Friend, she grabbed your hand. You rose from your seat, dragging her to the floor. She followed easily, leaving Pierre’s lap.

Before you knew it the two of you were dancing on each other. A shared smirk passing between the two of you. You quickly reverted to your normal routine, grinding along to the beat. Arms tangled in each others’ hair, the smell of your perfumes and the alcohol on your breathes mixing. This routine was nothing new for the two of you. A foolproof plan that had gotten the two of you through university without ever paying for your own drinks.

Pierre had made his way out of the booth, seemingly content to hang back slightly, eyes hooded as he watched his girlfriend move. But he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t take their eyes off of you two.

——— Meanwhile ———

Lance had spent the first hour of the after party firmly stationed at the DJ booth. The race had gone well, he’d scored points, and he was ready to celebrate. He was always on the shy side when he was sober, needing time to get a few drinks in before he was open to socializing more with the other drivers. As he stepped away from the table, he heard a voice call out behind him, “Who the fuck are they?”

He scanned the crowd, trying to determine what could’ve drawn that reaction. It took only a minute for him to spot them in the crowd. Gasly’s girlfriend and the brunette from the media day run in were drawing eyes from all corners of the club. Pierre stood close but off to the side, watching over the two but enjoying the show as well.

The mystery girl’s dress sparkled in the light, some kind of metallic satin material. It wrapped tightly around her neck, plunging low down her back. It sat high on her thighs, inching ever higher as her friend ran her hands along the brunettes hips. The sight was openly sexual, overtly so. It was obvious they were putting on a show, but they were enjoying it too. They’d clearly done this before, too in sync for this to be the first time. And while he’d like to think he was better than that, the thought of the two of them touching each other was enough to get his blood rushing.

From the driver’s section, he saw that the dance had captured the attention of Sainz and Norris. However, neither had made a move to join Pierre on the floor. Lance knew then that neither man was with the brunette. If that was his girlfriend he would’ve been next to Pierre, warning off anyone else who was interested. He was a jealous man. After a few minutes he would probably have already dragged her off the floor and into the back hallway. The dimly lit hall and single stall bathrooms had certainly seen their fair share of hookups, tucked away like that. Especially in a club this private, no one would interrupt.

Scenes played heavily through his mind, the possibilities warming his blood. It wasn’t until her hands slipped to the bottom of her dress, sliding the silky material dangerously high. The hint of lace that was revealed was enough to have him setting down his drink.

Switching the music to an r&b track, he wondered how far she’s take it. How far Pierre would let the girls take it. But as the song played, carrying the sultry sexual tune, he watched on. Because she wasn’t his girlfriend, and fuck he was going to enjoy the show if she was going to put it on.

———

Banks’ voice flowed through the speakers. A favorite of yours, the lyrics drawing you in.

And if I’m feeling like I’m evil

We got nothing to gain

As the song continued on, a tune of two lovers separation and a cursed love, you felt Y/N Best Friend get even closer to you. Her hands ran over the tie around your neck, sliding down your exposed back. As they reached the bottom of the dip, she smirked. You knew that look well. She was scheming, and you felt as her plan worked out.

Pierre had finally broken, pressing himself impossibly close to his girlfriend. His hands wedging between your bodies so he could grab her hips and drag her against him. Then it was three of you, her sandwiched between you, tightly in Pierre’s grip and grinding on you both. You heard him whisper into her ear but you couldn’t make out the words. As the song began to draw to an end, you felt her hand grip your shoulder.

“Wanna take a breather?” She asked.

“Sure.” You replied.

As the two of you made your way to the table hand in hand, Pierre gripped his girlfriends waist tightly. The two of them settled into the corner of the booth.

“What was that?” A voice asked. The subtle Spanish accent that ran through it was unmistakable.

“What ever do you mean?” You replied laughing.

“You know what I mean. Are you two always like that? I don’t know how Pierre stands it. Unless….” He trailed off.

“Unless what?” You asked, confusion marking your features.

“Unless you share.”

“Are you asking if I have threesomes with them?” You responded quickly.

“Yes. If you want to share with the group it would be much appreciated.”

A British voice cut in with a laugh before you could respond. “You know what? How about a little game of never have I ever?”

You hadn’t played since secondary school, back when everything was taboo and every revealed piece of information could be held above your head. But now, what was their to lose? You’d probably never see the drivers again.

“Sure. I’ll play.”

“Play what?” A new voice interjected.

You looked up through your lashes to see who had joined the group, eyes locking with a familiar pair of brown eyes.

————————————————————————

A/N: I’m getting parts out way quicker than I expected. At this rate I’ll be moving on to Pierre’s story much sooner than anticipated.

Songs mentioned:

Waiting Game by Banks

#lance stroll #lance stroll x y/n #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll x you #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly x reader #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #lando norris #Landon Norris x reader #formula one #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader

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18754389 · 1 year ago

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i’m still speechless. the ending >>>

aren’t i supposed to be happy now? part 10

ln x fem teammate!reader

intro part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9

hi! this is the last part and i’m emotional :) thank you so much for reading this and for the support <3 means a loooooot omg!! i have very much enjoyed writing about these two fucking idiots for the last few months, and no one hates them more than me! anyways, enjoy, bon appetite, yada yada, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated <3

warnings: 18+!! swearing, angst, fluff, smut, max suffering again, them existing

5.5k

his grip on your hand tightened. the only sound that filled the air was your breathing. you were still looking at him expectantly, almost as if you were still waiting for him to speak, as if he hadn’t said anything at all. as if you were waiting for him to tell you he was just joking.

“you’re moving to where?” your voice was embarrassingly shaky, cracking at the end of the question. he sighed, head falling even further forward, bowed in shame.

“i’m sorry. this is something i’ve been considering for a while now. before you, before us.” lando explained quickly, almost desperately. “the apartment that i have is ideal at the moment, i’m barely home and it just makes more sense and-“

“wait a second, you already have a place?” your mind was moving at rapid speed to try and process all of the information that he had given you.

“well, yeah.” he awkwardly confirmed.

“so, that’s it then? you’re leaving? just like that?”

“no, not just like that. i still have things i need to finalise here. i’m sorry, this is something i need to do.”

“lando, i don’t give a fuck that you’re moving to monaco.” he looked taken aback. “you’ve done all of this and made all of these decisions and not once have you mentioned a word of it to me.”

“so much of it was decided before we were even serious. before we were even speaking to each other.”

“and that’s absolutely fine but now we are and you still failed to mention the fact that you were moving to a different fucking country.”

“babe, please-“

“no, don’t ‘babe please’ me,” you scoffed, “you tell me that you’ve been in love with me for ten years, leading me to believe that this is fucking real. how am i supposed to see myself as a part of your life when you don’t tell me something like this?” your voice wavered horrifically, tears pricking your eyes.

“please don’t say that. you know how important you are to me!”

“lando, you don’t get it. you want to move to monaco? be my guest. i get it. do you know how many financial advisors i have lining up to tell me to move to monaco?” you scoffed. “i understand why you’re doing this, i understand the benefits. but you’ve had god knows how long to tell me that you’re making a life changing decision and you didn’t.”

“i do get it. i do. listen, i, fuck,” he let out an exasperated breath, “i didn’t wanna tell you like this. i didn’t wanna do this here or now but i couldn’t stop myself.” he leaned back, reaching around in his pocket with quite some difficulty, given the fact that his mclaren was not the roomiest of spaces. “you’re my future. i know that. i hope that you know that too. i’m doing this wrong. i did all of this wrong and i’m sorry.” he was pleading with you now, trying to relieve the tension in the car. “i just want you and i made all of this too fucking difficult. i don’t want to hurt you again.”

he continued his ramblings and you really did try and focus on what he was saying, but all you could concentrate on was the shiny key in his hand. he noticed that your gaze was fixed on the small object, laughing nervously. slowly, you looked up, your gazes finally meeting.

“so, uh, this is for you.” he extended his hand, holding the key out for you. you didn’t move to take it from him.

“what does this mean?” you whispered.

“whatever you want it to mean.”

“no. don’t put that kind of pressure on me. what does it mean to you?” you needed to hear him say it, needed to know what he wanted, because in that moment, you were more than confused.

“it means that you can let yourself in to my house. or you can be letting yourself in to our house. if you’re ready, i would much rather it be the second option.”

“are you serious?”

“well, yeah. we lost so much time. i don’t want to be away from you anymore.”

“but you’ve… you’ve considered all of these things without me. just like you always have.”

the way he said your name, voice full of sheer desperation to change your mind, made the ever growing pit in your stomach twist.

“please take me home.” you dropped his hand.

you sat in your driveway in complete silence. you didn’t want to get out of lando’s car but you didn’t have the energy to talk. you could feel his gaze upon you as you stared blankly ahead, just as you had for the duration of the journey. you reached blindly for his hand, feeling warmth instantly as his fingers laced with yours. a gentle kiss was placed on your knuckles.

“i won’t let you go again. that was the biggest mistake i ever made.”

“i just wish you would have told me.” you sighed.

“so do i.”

“i need to go.” you whispered.

“okay,” he replied softly. “i love you.”

“i know.” you opened the door, getting out of the sleek car. you paused, turning back to him. “you know i love you too.”

you closed the door softly, making a beeline for your house. once you were inside, you rested against the door, letting out a shaky breath, followed by a groan. you rubbed your tired eyes, starting to feel the ache throughout your body that a day of karting had caused, but that paled in comparison to the way your heart hurt. you were truly at a loss. why could he never tell you anything? he never told you about his insecurities before your f1 debut and look where that had gotten him. three years later, your relationship was on the mend, only to be hit with another setback. and if that wasn’t overwhelming enough on its own, he wanted you to move in with him.

now, could you see yourself living with lando? the simple answer was yes. after only a few days spent in his house, you were ready to never leave his side. was he messy? yes. did he annoy you? almost constantly. did he take up half the bed with his ridiculous sleeping positions? of course. but you never slept better than you did with him.

you went straight upstairs, deciding that nothing would make you feel better than laying alone in the dark in your bed. you needed a clear head and you weren’t going to achieve that by standing in your hallway like you were lost. still draped in his hoodie, you peeled back the covers of your bed and dove in. it quickly became apparent that your head wouldn’t be clear anytime soon. the bed was too empty. your house was too quiet. the hoodie was basically taunting you; it smelt too much like him and it was far too comfortable. you tossed and turned, trying to stop yourself from getting out of bed and walking to his house. you would achieve nothing by doing that, and the media would have a field day if they caught wind of a half naked formula 1 driver roaming the streets in her boyfriends hoodie.

your phone started buzzing beside you, much to your annoyance. you ignored it, but when it didn’t stop, your reluctantly checked the caller ID.

“max, now is not the time.”

“right, you’re not gonna like this but i don’t care. go with him. just go with him. you deserve to be happy. if he goes without you, we’ll have another three years of you both being miserable bastards and, not to make this about me, but my heads gonna fucking explode. you want to be mad at him? go ahead. i’m mad at him and he’s mad at himself. but hear him out. and just fucking do it.“

“max, shut the fuck up, god.” you whined, as his monologue came to an end.

“i deserved that.” max affirmed.

“it’s not about monaco. i’d move into a shed with that stupid man if he asked me to. but he can’t keep doing this stuff, he doesn’t tell me anything.” your voice shook as you complained to your friend.

“as fucked up as it looks to the rest of us, he’s trying his best. please, just hear him out before you make any final decisions.”

“goodnight, max.”

before you knew it, it was two o’clock in the morning and you were very much awake. you were still angry, but perspective was your friend. max’s words rung in your eyes; you didn’t want to spend the rest of your life miserable, wondering what could have been. after many hours of consideration, of replaying lando’s words over and over in your mind, of wondering what that key would feel like resting in the palm of your hand, you sat up, throwing the covers off of your body. within five minutes you had a pair of sweats covering your legs, shoes on your feet and you were sat in the drivers seat of your car, contemplating what you were about to do.

nothing made lando feel worse than knowing he’d hurt you. that’s why he’d spent three years agonising over his shitty decision making. he deserved to agonise. he’d been sat on your newly claimed side of his bed since he’d gotten home. max, as always, pried what had happened out of him and then left him to wallow in self pity.

god, what a mess he’d made this time.

he’d been toying with the idea of moving to monaco for a while, things finally falling into place after sochi. he almost thought it was better, he’d be away from you and you could have as much space as you needed from him. fast forward a few months and you were together, finally, and lando found himself caught up in a mess of his own design.

he didn’t mean to tell you about monaco the way he did. it’s not like he had a plan on how to tell you, but he knew it shouldn’t have been like that. he’d ruined what had been a truly perfect day. all he could think in the car was how he wanted to spend all of his days just like that with you, and suddenly the weight of his decisions were crushing him and he had no other option but to let the words spill from his mouth, the key practically burning a hole in his pocket.

he’d been carrying that key with him since your first morning in qatar. you’d rolled over in the bed that you’d been sharing, sleepy eyes meeting his. the soft smile on your face and the way you pressed your lips to his skin made him realise that he wanted the pleasure of your face being the first thing he saw every morning when he woke up. a few hours later, he’d found a random locksmith to cut him a key and it had sat in his pocket since that day. lando couldn’t quite get past the hurt he felt when you hadn’t even made an attempt to take the tiny piece of metal from him, but he couldn’t really blame you for that.

sighing, he reluctantly stood from the bed, heading for the door. he wanted water, just how you had only a few nights ago when you’d left him in bed after the best night you’d spent together. he stood in his dark kitchen for a while, too tired to walk back up the stairs. there were many times in his life that lando felt pathetic; not one of them came close to how fucking pathetic he felt in that moment.

he was drawn out of his staring contest with the empty countertop by the sound of tapping. lando quickly made the assumption that he was imagining things in his emotional, exhausted state and walked himself back towards the staircase to try and get some sleep. but as he got closer to the stairs, and consequently his front door, the sound of tapping grew louder and louder until he realised, finally, that it was knocking. someone was knocking on his door.

lando’s heart rate pretty much spiked. unless it was an axe murderer, who probably wouldn’t have knocked, there was only one person who could plausibly be on the other side of the door. he was stuck in his place, staring at the front door like a bit of an idiot.

“lando, i can literally see you.” even through the translucent door, lando could hear that matter of fact tone in your voice that always made him smile when he shouldn’t, like when you would purposely try and piss off a journalist or when you’d playfully gloat about your place in standings. suddenly, lando sprung into action.

“shit, shit, sorry.” he mumbled, rushing to open the door, ready to fling it off its hinges if it meant he’d get to see you. and then, there you were. you looked extremely tired and mildly pissed off, but nonetheless, there you were. he became hyperaware of his rapid heart rate once again as he anticipated your words.

“you let me down. again.” you walked past him before he could even invite you in, stomping down his hallway and back into the kitchen. he sighed shakily, trailing being you. “you didn’t tell me anything, just like you didn’t before we started at mclaren.”

“lando, for whatever reason, i’m stupidly in love with you. i love you more than i have ever loved anyone. in fact, it’s almost embarrassing how much i love you.” your voice was borderline harsh, totally contrasting with your declarations and that was exactly why he was trying to contain a smile. you were always so unapologetic; “which is exactly why i will not let you fuck this up for us.”

“when you left me, i wanted nothing to do with you. every feeling i had for you, every thought, i pushed all of it aside. and then, you came back into my life on that podium, of all places, and it was like,” you paused, trying to find the right words, “being thrown into ice cold water. it was a reality check. i realised that i wouldn’t have wanted any other person by my side when i won my first race. you were the first person i saw after i got out the car and it hit me then and there, no matter how much i tried to pretend, it was you. you were the one i was supposed to be with in that moment.”

“i want all of those moments to be shared with you. but i can’t guarantee right now, from where i’m standing, that you feel the same way and that’s why this fucking hurts.” your voice broke slightly at the end, and he rushed towards you. lando couldn’t just let you stand there and assume something that was so far from the truth. he didn’t think you’d be too accepting of him putting his arms around you, so he settled for grabbing your hands, locking your fingers with his.

“i need you to look at me.” you shook your head in refusal at his words. “please. look at me.” reluctantly, you slowly rose your head, watery eyes meeting his and the look in your eyes, of pain and vulnerability manifested, almost made lando tremble. this was his last chance with you. this very moment that you were in was it. make or break.

“i told you in sochi that i would do whatever it took to make it up to you. i haven’t exactly gotten off to the best start,” he laughed humourlessly, “but i meant it. monaco has been on the cards for a long time, and i should have told you. i know i should have told you. i’m so sorry, baby.”

“i’ve made such a mess. i’ve hurt you and i have overcomplicated this every step of the way. but you have to believe me when i tell you this: you are everything. you have always been everything to me, even when i didn’t quite know that myself.” you stared up at him, eyebrows furrowed as he spoke, trying to hold yourself together at his words.

“if you come to monaco with me, i will do everything in my power to make you happy. and if you don’t, i swear i will swim across the fucking channel every single fucking day if i have to. i just want to make you happy, as happy as you make me. it would be pretty fucking cool to see your face every single morning.” he finished.

you stood there for a while, arms crossed as you contemplated his words. lando couldn’t ignore the way you were fiddling with your keys, your car and house keys both attached to a tacky key ring that you’d bought at the beginning of the f2 career, something lando had teased you for. it truly was a piece of junk but it reminded you of simpler times.

“so, do you still have that key?” you asked him monotonously. he raised his eyebrows, not expecting that question.

“uh, yeah.” he shoved his hand into his pocket, still not having changed out of the clothes he was wearing earlier due to his wallowing. his fingers grasped the cool metal and he tugged it out of his pocket. you outstretched your hand and lando couldn’t help the smile that overtook his face, finally winning against the resistance he’d put up. he placed it in your hand and you stared at it. for something so small, it sure carried a ton of weight. he watched in adoration as you added the key to your small collection on the key ring.

“there. so, when are we moving?” you asked nonchalantly.

he flung himself towards you, pulling you straight into his arms, lips urgently meeting yours. he couldn’t help himself from smiling against your lips, barely able to kiss you properly. you giggled as you pulled away, pushing his hair back.

“this is it.” you told him, your voice laced with a certain finality, almost like you were warning him. the look in his eyes told you that he needed no warning; he wouldn’t let you go, not again.

monaco was nice.

you spent the first few weeks of the winter break moving into your new apartment and adjusting to life as lando’s roommate. you’d rolled your eyes more than once at his questionable taste, arguing that the grey and fluorescent yellow colour-combo he was pushing for wasn’t exactly ideal.

being around him in such a close proximity pretty much all of the time should have been harder. it should have been a frustrating adjustment, a period of mourning for your life alone, but it was the most natural thing in the world. you were still figuring things out about each other, picking up on one another’s habits and routines. you slotted into each others lives seamlessly, building a home that you would share. plus, waking up beside him came with its perks.

you’d woken up to sunlight streaming through the curtains, warmth radiating across your entire body, and the unmistakable feeling of his lips pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses across your bare shoulders. you’d happily rolled over, letting his mouth travel further across your body as he worked his way down your stomach, under the plush duvet and between your legs. he wasted no time, throwing one leg over his shoulder and splaying his hand across your inner thigh, pinning the other leg to the mattress. lazily, he worked his tongue through your folds, sucking at your clit so that he could be rewarded with the pleasure of watching your back arch and your head hit the pillows.

“love living with you.” lando mumbled into your pussy, his words sending shockwaves up your spine that reverberated throughout your body. you could only respond by threading your finger through his hair and bucking your hips to meet his mouth. he stayed between your legs for a couple of orgasms, eventually snaking his way back up your spent body. he hovered above you, kissing you deeply as he dragged himself through your folds, hissing at the feeling of how soaked he’d left you. just as he was about to push himself inside of you, a realisation dawned on you.

“max!” you gasped. lando pulled his head away from the crook of your neck, staring down at you with furrowed eyebrows and a face painted with confusion.

“uh, that’s not my name, babe.” he looked slightly traumatised.

“no, no, you were supposed to pick max up from the airport.” you clarified hurriedly, whimpering at the feeling of him sliding across your sensitive heat.

“oh. i’ll send him a car.” he groaned, completely unbothered, dipping his head down to kiss up your neck.

“you really should go and g-get him- oh!” you moaned, legs wrapping around his waist as he sunk into you. suddenly, max was unimportant. in that moment, he could walk to monaco for all you cared.

“want me to leave you here all alone? waiting for me? how could i leave you like this?” lando chuckled lowly, pressing his hips against yours. the pressure made your head spin. he held you close, right in the centre of the bed, lips pressed against yours as you fell apart at his touch. he took you apart again, just one more time, simply because he could and because you wanted nothing more than to feel him, unhurried in that moment in the bed that you now shared.

you were home.

max was disgusted when he turned up at your apartment, just as he usually was by you and lando. or rather, your antics.

“like wild animals.” he muttered when lando had finally pried himself away from you to actually let max in, and max caught sight of lando’s messy hair and the fact that his friends shorts were on backwards.

“good to see you too, mate.” lando had laughed, slapping max on the back and taking his bag off of him to put in the guest room.

“so, this is your room, max. we’ve adopted you.” you joked when you finally joined the guys, hair still wet from the shower, dressed in lando’s sweats. you winked at him when you’d caught him raking his eyes up and down your frame. you knew he loved it when you wore his clothes. “all yours when you come to visit.” you took your attention off of your boyfriend and focused it on your friend.

“even left space for your set up.” lando chimed in, leaving you to roll your eyes at their gamer speak as they discussed lando’s gaming room on the other side of the wall.

the afternoon soon bled into the evening, the three of you sat around in your living room discussing the imminent trip to dubai to reign in the new year and let off some steam before the reality of the new season kicked in. you started to doze off at some point, only being able to listen to them fawn over all of the golfing greens in the emirates for so long. when you woke up, you felt like you were floating, groggily realising that you were being carried down the hallway to your bedroom. you looked up at lando, smiling sleepily as he manoeuvred you carefully as to not bang your head against a door frame.

he laid you down on the bed, slipping in beside you, before pulling the covers up and over the pair of you. you fell asleep to a kiss on your forehead and the whisper of sweet nothings about how he couldn’t wait to start off the new year wrapped in your arms.

the heavy desert air seemed to weigh down on you, holding you in your frustrated place. p13 and p14. you could hardly believe it. you couldn’t remember a moment in your career that felt as bad as you did after you got out of your car in bahrain, lando climbing out of his car right behind you. you walked through parc fermé together, side by side, in complete silence, only a knowing look and the gentle bop of his helmet against yours passing between you both. there were simply no words. barcelona had been so promising, the both of you topping the timesheets, but your brakes were overheating and that was not very helpful in the dry heat of the bahrain desert. you’d not even made it out of q1, lando barely pulling the car into q2, but none of that mattered now. p13 and p14. was this supposed to be relationship goals?

you cast your mind back to thursday, arriving at the track for the first time. you’d had to skip testing, struck down by a case of the flu that kept you and lando apart for longer than you had been in months. he’d been left to test the car by himself while you sulked your way through a fever. when the first race weekend rolled around, you were so glad to be back, pushing the doubt about the car to the side. when you’d driven it, things had gone fine and you’d been so sure that the struggles in bahrain that lando had encountered would be easy fixes.

thursday and friday morning had been spent by you and lando doing your media rounds, several outlets gushing about the pair of you and your relationship, that had only gone from strength to strength throughout the winter. you were asked a handful of times about him and the way you kept popping up in his instagram posts and on his twitch streams, smiling politely and breezing through the questions. you tried not to show your frustration, accepting the fact that this is how things would be as long as you were in a relationship with another driver, and you were not prepared to change your relationship status over some overbearing journos. plus, you could always rely on your boyfriend to keep things interesting with the media.

you had been on your last interview when lando caught you by surprise, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, chin resting on your shoulder. you’d jumped, trying to hide the blush rising on your cheeks when he pecked a spot on your neck. the interviewer, a newbie who’s name escaped you then, blinked rapidly, trying to ask the question whilst simultaneously trying to not to jump up and down at the content he was getting.

“so, how would you say you’ve prepared yourself for the upcoming season?”

you’d opened your mouth to reply, beaten to it by your menace of a boyfriend.

“cardio. we do a lot of cardio.” he giggled behind you.

your jaw had dropped at the double meaning, looking at the monitor ahead to see his shit eating grin. newbie journalist looked partially delighted, and only slightly traumatised. sam, now the head babysitter at mclaren, after charlotte’s very upsetting, yet understandable, departure, looked like he wanted to put lando’s head through the monitor, pinching the bridge of his nose. you’d walked away from the interview giggling, lando’s arm wrapped around your shoulder as sam marched you both as far away from the cameras as he could get you.

as the memory of the weekend played in your mind, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. you’d come into the weekend so hopeful, refreshed after weeks well spent in the sun with lando and all of your friends. drinks of top of skyscrapers, lounging on the beach with lando wrapped around you and the burj al arab decorating the skyline, racing golf carts with max while lando sulked because he’d lost the round. it had been serene, exactly what you’d needed before life started up again. now, you were more stressed than you’d been all of last season.

somehow you dragged yourself through the post-race media rounds, trying to appear calm and not absolutely devastated. every time you caught lando’s eye across the media pen, you knew he was doing the same thing. you’d gone from fighting for podiums and even wins to being a back marker; a rather difficult pill to swallow. you had the urge to go home, leave the track and the country and just go back to monaco. you wanted to kidnap lando and take him with you, protect him from all of this negativity and stay bundled up in your shared bed for the rest of eternity, but you knew that you couldn’t do that.

as you filmed your post race message to the fans, lando sat beside you in the hospitality, his fingers laced with yours, you looked directly into the camera, squeezed his hand, and spoke.

“we’ll be back before you know it.” you smiled, throwing in a knowing wink for good measure. lando smiled, albeit weakly, at your reassuring words, while the entire pr team behind the camera nodded robotically in forced agreement. you would have to prove yourself right, because from where you were sat right now, it wasn’t looking good.

the blood, sweat and tears of the last few months had paid off in the most delicious way. the most satisfying conclusion to the struggles of the first half of the season stood right before your eyes, staring back at you. george was standing on the other side of the podium, you assumed; you didn’t actually know for certain if it was him. all you could see was lando.

lando on that glorious top step. lando raising the trophy above his head. lando absolutely beaming at you.

he was glowing. you were crying.

the british crowd had brought silverstone to life beneath the beautiful sunshine, watching as you and lando battled it out with mercedes and ferrari, eventually pulling into parc fermé to park your mclaren’s in p1 and p2. you’d made quite the turnaround. you hadn’t even lasted ten seconds out of the car, staring at him stood at the helm of his car in utter elation, before you were ripping off your helmet, followed by your balaclava. you’d thrown yourself at him the second his feet had hit the ground, unable to contain yourself. you held him as he followed in your footsteps, ridding himself of his helmet, and then he was kissing you.

the cameras didn’t matter, the crowd didn’t matter, the audience in parc fermé didn’t matter. he’d won his first race. he’d won. he pulled away first, muttering a “proud of you” against your swollen lips. that’s when you’d teared up for the first time. he was proud of you? right now? at the height of his career, his first thought was you? you kissed him again, and again, and again, the tears flowing freely by now. somehow, you’d ended up on top of the podium, not really making much sense of anything in your euphoric state.

you eyed him up and down, that look in your eyes, which he gladly returned, smirking as he popped the champagne and sprayed it right at you. george - yes, it was him in p3 - joined the party, as did andreas who was ready to start chanting then and there. to be fair, you were also ready to break out a verse of ‘lando, you’re the one.’

the four of you jumped up onto the top step, huddling together to pose for all the photos. as they photographers snapped away, you turned to look up at him, only to find him already staring down at you. he was still smiling so radiantly, you wanted to capture the moment and live it forever, only wanting to see him like this, and have him looking at you the way he was now.

“i love you.” lando mouthed. you blushed.

“love you, baby.” you whispered.

as you all hopped down from the step, he caught your arm. he smiled mischievously, pulling your 2nd place cap off of your messy hair, sending it flying off of the podium into the sea of people below. you were about to tell him off but his lips were pressed to yours. you moaned at the sudden contact, feeling him smirk against your lips as he deepened the kiss, dipping you backwards a little bit. the crowd cheered, the sound spiking your heart rate and sending another rush of adrenaline through your tired body. you pulled away, feeling your cheeks burn red, smiling like an idiot as you shyly pushed him away.

“i’ve always wanted to do that.” lando winked.

“didn’t think you were that cheesy, norris.” you teased, wrapping your arm around his back as you walked off of the podium together.

“maybe mclaren 1-2s will be our always.” you scoffed at his words, shoving him lightly with your shoulder as he laughed.

you turned, glancing at the podium one last time before it disappeared from view. a podium was where it all started, where everything seemed to fall into place. where you realised that you still loved him. sochi had really sucked the fun out of being on the podium, yet here you were now, living out a full circle moment for the ages. monza and silverstone, two of your most favourite places on earth, holding the most special memories that you shared with the love of your life.

✨the end✨

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppetangelika @wmaximoffz @starlightoctavia @japanesekel @stardustingold @vinvantae @anathemaloren @ashleyo1611 @ggaslyp1 @poofy-baby-unicorns @dr3lover @smiithys @turningxstrange @lees0015 @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @1missglum1 @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @shinydragondelusion @alexk2002 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @f-1-fan

(taglist got fucked up so i just made one big one and hoped for the best lol. lemme know if you wanna be added or removed xo)

#landon norris x reader #ln x angst #ln x fluff #ln x series #series

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