pretty boy
partial smau
pairing: lando norris x fem!reader
content: NASCAR!reader, she/her reader, reader wears a dress (not described), down bad lando, background oscar/reader friendship, y/n not used outside of username, other drivers mentioned
fc: pinterest girlies and susie wolff bc i love her
a/n: let's pretend for two seconds that the any of these races line up whatsoever :) also let me know if you want a pt ii this was a lot of fun to make
symbols from @gotiqes and @webgrave
the pictures in the posts are placeholders! reader is not physically described! imagine whoever you like!
[yn_ln54] can't wait to get back in the car this weekend 💪
[view comments]
[user0] not the casinos! we talked abt this
⤿ [yn_ln54] you know your girl left with the exact same amount of cash she walked in with 💅
[user1] @/ynuser54 have you seen the post??
⤿ [user2] no way she has
[user3] is this the girl lando was talking abt? mid
⤿ [user4] who even are you???
⤿ [user5] get outta here with that shit
⤿ [user6] booo
⤿ [user7] boooo
⤿ [yn_ln54] booo
[yn_ln54] what the hell y'all talking about??
⁺ ﹒⋆ ﹒ ⁺ ﹒
Las Vegas, baby! What? Did you expect him to stay in the hotel and sleep through the night? After a podium finish? When he could be getting drunk and/or laid. Well, the plan had been for and, but you changed things. Because he saw you before he even ordered his first drink. Stepping away from a group and moving toward the bar. And that dress. If you look this good in it, Lando desperately needs to know what you look like out of it. So he approaches.
It’s subtle. Cool. Totally normal. Lando just slides into the seat next to you. And on most nights, that’s all it takes. People either know who he is or they see his face and decide his name doesn’t really matter. But you don’t even blink, waiting somewhat impatiently for the bartender to notice you. It’s kind of adorable, how you tap your foot against the sticky floor.
“Can I buy you a drink?” He finally says, loud enough for you to hear over the thumping bass. You don’t flinch, and Lando suddenly realizes you knew he was here. You were just ignoring him. The thought makes a traitorous smile begin to grow on his face.
You turn to look at him slowly, squinting a little as your eyes move up and down. Then your face settles into something smug and you grin.
When you open your mouth, he expects it to be a response. Something snarky, he can already tell. Except, you’re turning toward the bartender and ordering “the most expensive drink you can make” from the bartender who seems to have finally noticed your existence.
“And put it on his tab.” You point a thumb back at Lando, making that stupid grin on his face grow wider. The bartender pauses before holding out his hand for the card. Lando slides it over with a grin.
“Anything for you.” He whispers. You roll your eyes, clearly unmoved. “Come on? Nothing?”
“I make it a point not to be impressed by pretty little Formula drivers.” Your voice is smooth. The bartender returns, large glass in hand. It looks suspiciously like he poured every top shelf liquor into one glass and gave it a lazy stir, but you don’t even hesitate before taking a sip. You nod slowly, reaching out to grab the bartender’s hand. Lando is honestly a little surprised he doesn’t pull away. “Wonderful. Thank you again, Danny.”
“Wait, you know him?” He pauses, then, in the same exact tone. “Wait, you think I’m pretty?”
It shouldn’t be a shock. Not really. Lando knows he’s pretty. And handsome. And hot. It’s not narcissism. He just has eyes. But you haven’t reacted to him at all, so to hear you say it out loud. He wants to hear it again. Just a little.
Danny walks away and you grin, winking once before sliding off the booth. “He’s my cousin. I get free drinks.”
“You didn’t answer my other question.”
You pause, huffing a little as he has absolutely no reaction to your little reveal. As if any drink you bought could be enough to dent his bank account. He grins, hopping off of his stool to land right in front of you. But nothing. No reaction. Just a stare from your beautiful eyes.
“Sure.” You shrug. Like it’s a fact you know and are very unimpressed by. Sure, the sky is blue. So what? Big whoop.
And Lando…Lando grins. Smiles so wide his cheeks hurt a little. And he hasn’t even had a single drink yet. Because you showed up and thoroughly derailed every single plan and thought he’d ever had. It’s fun.
“Alright, alright.” Lando raises his hands in surrender and takes half a step back. He thinks your shoulders drop just a millimeter. He doesn’t mention it. “Can I at least get a name? You clearly already know mine and that feels quite unfair.”
You study him less like a man and more like a bug beneath a microscope. He’s being cut open under your gaze and he never wants you to look away.
“Try watching some racing other than yours, pretty boy.” You say, smirking around your straw. He can’t even respond before you’re disappearing into the crowd.
[lando] anyone know where i can find @/yn_ln54, she's not answering my dms 🥺
[view comments]
[charles_leclerc] delete this right now
[user8] lando norris interested in nascar??? what is the world coming to?
⤿ [user9] we are living in the best timeline
⤿ [user 3] we are living in the worst timeline
[georgerussel63] do you hate me? be honest
⤿ [lando] :)
[user10] lmao not lando trying and failing to get into her dms
⤿ [ynuser54] what a nerddd
⤿ [lando] @/ynuser54 why are you so mean to me
[yn_ln54] check ur dms now comment deleted
[user11] lol yn deleting her comment right away
⤿ [user12] we saw that, girl!
⤿ [user13] guys they might just be friends
The car pulls to a stop in front of your hotel and you both sit there for a minute, breathing in the silence. Lando speaks first, palms sweaty against his jeans. He really shouldn’t be so nervous. This exact scenario has happened with lots of other women. But he doesn’t want it to end the same. So he switches it up a bit.
“Mind if I walk you to your door?” He grins, trying to look cheeky. He only manages to look so horribly in love that you actually laugh. A bright, sharp thing.
“Just to my door?”
“Just to your door.”
You pause like you’re considering it. Like you have anything to lose from letting Lando follow you through the hotel like a lost puppy. Then you shrug, kicking open your door. “I guess chivalry isn’t dead.” But you say it with a grin so sharp Lando wonders if you really mean it at all. He’ll take what he can get.
“Milady,” He says, loudly, obviously, playing into the part of a chivalrous suitor. You roll your eyes but take his arm (after an honestly embarrassing scramble around the hood of the car to reach your door before you can fully climb out). You also laugh.
The walk through the lobby is slow and Lando can’t help the way his chest puffs out just a little. Because he has you on his arm. Literally. A few patrons still milling around in the lobby seem to look twice at him. Recognizing him from somewhere. But they either can’t quite place Lando’s face or they don’t care enough to pull out their phones and take a picture. So the journey across the open lobby to the elevator is a success. Lando absently pats your hand where you hold his arm.
He watches, perhaps with a bit too rapt of attention as you push the fourth floor button. Lando’s eyes study the curve of your fingers, memorizing the motion and the number. He does the same as you dig into your purse for your keycard, committing the room number to memory. Just in case. Not tonight, though. He was serious about just walking you to your door. He wants to do this right. Not just a hookup. Maybe something more.
The door beeps as you swipe your card. You turn the handle, pushing it open. Then, you look back. Over your shoulder. You turn. And suddenly you’re kissing him. Hand gripping the collar of his silk shirt, probably wrinkling and pulling at the fabric. Lando couldn’t care less, melting into the kiss. It’s a clash of mouths. Lips pressing together, moving in tandem. Teeth clacking every other second, a symphony of need that Lando has to consciously ignore. And tongues. Your tongue marrying his in a sinful dance. He wants to swallow you whole.
Lando pushes you back, just enough to press his forehead to yours, breathing quick. “Just to your door.” He says, low and careful.
“Well, thank you for walking me.” You step back but you’re grinning. Lando is almost sure he looks twice as wrecked as you. At least. But he lets you go, clearing his throat for something to do. And then, because you hate him, you lean in and press a kiss to his cheek. Just a brush of lips against skin. It makes Lando’s heart beat twice as fast, somehow more intimate than the full-on makeout session.
“You’re welcome.” Lando’s voice comes out breathless and a little shaky. Your grin turns into a satisfied smirk and you wave one more time before shutting the door between you two.
[yn_ln54] first formula 1 race, wasn’t bad. this idiot didn’t win tho, so only a 7/10 (and i suppose a congrats to @/maxverstappen1)
[view comments]
[lando] where did you even get those pictures!!
⤿ [yn_ln54] i never reveal my sources 🤐
[user13] um. so i was wrong
[oscarpiastri] you didn't post the picture with me :(
⤿ [yn_ln54] pls forgive me for this grave sin 🙏
[maxverstappen1] wow i feel truly honored ♡ liked by author
[mclarenf1] glad to host you this weekend! ♡ liked by author
[lando] alright when's my turn
⤿ [yn_ln54] for what exactly???
⤿ [lando] to watch one of your races
⤿ [yn_ln54] oh have you not checked your email lately?
⤿ [user15] lmao
“I thought it was the Indy 500.” Lando says and it immediately earns him a sharp elbow right in his ribs. You glare at him so sharply he thinks it might actually cut him open. He probably wouldn’t mind.
“Daytona 500, idiot. Indy 500 is open wheel. Like your car.”
“I know what open wheel means.” He huffs, but you’re grinning again. And your hand is wrapped in his. Like it belongs there. It kinda does. Because anytime you’re close enough, Lando grabs you. Has to hold onto you like you’ll disappear if he looks away for too long. If he’s not holding you, his knuckles are brushing against yours. Or his knee bumps you under the table. Max says it’s embarrassing how much Lando likes you. Lando thinks he’s fine with that as long as you’re still standing within reach.
The track is hot. Lando has been to Florida before. He’s sat in his hot McLaren and driven entire races through the Florida heat and humidity. But he usually has on his cooling vest. And about a bazillion fans. And he’s not trying to squeeze through a crowd that doesn’t seem to recognize or care who he is. You just drag him along, seemingly unaffected.
You pull and pull until you stop and Lando’s chest slams right into your back, making you stumble. A few mechanics chuckle around him as you jab your elbow into his ribs. Again.
“Here she is.” You say grandly, like you’re revealing your prized possession to him. Allowing him to see something so special to you. And you are. Because your car sits there, bright and covered in a myriad of sponsors. Lando is suddenly glad his car has so little surface space. Then he sees your number. 54 in bold, slanted numbers. The paint sparkles a little and Lando can’t help his smile. God, you like glitter. He wants to kiss you so bad. So he settles for kissing your knuckles and leaning in close to speak low to only you.
“She’s beautiful.”
Your cheeks darken just enough for him to notice and it hits him in the chest at first. He made you blush. You. All confidence and teasing. He made you blush. Lando can feel the words on his tongue, just sitting there. He desperately wants to say them. Wants to prove this moment is real. And then you’re laughing. Soft and bright and god Lando needs to kiss you right now or he’ll actually die. Just wither away on the asphalt and blow away like a pile of dust. He doesn’t settle this time. He leans down and presses his lips to yours. It’s quick. Soft. Chaste, even. But Lando has no idea how open you are about displays of affection. About how much you want to make out with your not-quite-boyfriend in front of your coworkers. He pulls back before he can’t anymore.
It still earns a couple whistles from around the garage. Lando blushes. You don’t. You smile and squeeze his hand one last time. Because you are promptly dragged away for pre-race meetings and interviews and prep and Lando understands. It just feels odd to be the one waiting.
But when you finally return for longer than a half-second glance from across the garage, the wait is worth it. You’re in your race suit, balaclava pulled on, helmet under your arm. You look like a racer. That focused glint in your eye. He almost doesn’t want to disturb you. Break that steely focus. You’re the one that waves first and Lando decides that’s as much as an invitation as he needs to step closer. Close enough to tug on the balaclava gently, straightening it. Close enough to let his fingers trace the edge where your cheeks puff out. Somebody yells something and you step back. Lando lets you. Because you have a race.
“What? No good luck kiss?” You tease, voice muffled by the helmet. Lando smiles. Not a cheeky grin or a smirk. Just a smile stretched across his face as he leans in and kisses the helmet, right over your lips. He’s always thought it was cute when the other drivers’ girlfriends did that. And now here he is, apparently fulfilling a fantasy he didn’t think applied to him. When he pulls back, he can see the smile in your eyes.
“Wait, why didn’t I get a good luck kiss?”
“You didn’t ask?” You shrug, but you’re grinning. He can hear it.
“Next time.” He says, a little petulant and a little pouty before leaning in and kissing your helmet again. “Promise?”
“Promise.” And your voice is so soft Lando can hardly believe you’re real. And almost his. “Maybe you’ll actually win.”
“Oi!” Lando tries to sound indignant, but you’re both laughing, leaned into each other like flowers to the sun.
When someone finally calls you away, the moment doesn’t shatter. It softens just enough to be gently separated. The emotion split cleanly in half, still warm. It melts slowly as you climb in the car. It dissolves into one last look out your window at Lando before you pull out of the garage.
[yn_ln54] third place!!! first podium, baby! let’s gooooo
[view comments]
[lando] congratulations! you did brilliant ♡ liked by author
⤿ [yn_ln54] omg ur so british
⤿ [lando] what does that mean???
[oscarpiastri] congrats!! 🎉 ♡ liked by author
[user9] lando 👀
⤿ [user16] lol professional landoyn shipper
[user17] yes!!! so proud of you girl!
[yn_ln54] they let me drive the car 🙂↕️
[view comments]
[lando] heyyyyy
⤿ [yn_ln54] i'm a professional driver, so its okay for me
⤿ [lando] ???
[oscarpiastri] wanna join mclaren we could use a driver
⤿ [lando] im literally right here
⤿ [yn_ln54] @/oscarpiastri i appreciate the offer, but nascar is my one true love
⤿ [lando] once again, right here ♡ liked by author
[nascar] wowww and i thought we were exclusive
⤿ [yn_ln54] no wait come back baby i didn't mean it
⤿ [lando] still here ♡ liked by author
