#Tbr

We’ve Got Tonight || LN4

Pairing: Lando Norris x singer!reader Summary: When you catch your boyfriend cheating you get your sweet revenge and a handsome stranger who steps in to protect you. Warnings: being cheated on, angst, injury

Songs: Shania Twain - Man! I feel like a woman Garth Brooks - Friends in low places Carrie Underwood - Before he cheats Kenny Rogers & Sheena Easton - We’ve got tonight

Lando couldn’t believe he had let Daniel drag him out to the Texan bar. It was completely polar opposite to anything he was used to, but Danny fit right in with his Stetson hat and cowboy boots. 

Lando winced into his glass as the latest woman to take the corner stage butchered a Shania Twain song but it didn’t seem to bother his drinking buddy as he left to join the rows of people line dancing. Lando was grateful when the song came to an end but it was short lived as he heard a familiar Australian accent on the mic talking the band into playing Friends in Low Places. Spinning around on his stool at the bar, the McLaren driver found his old teammate on the small stage grinning like a fool as the music started. 

Lando watched the older driver and envied the confidence he had to sing terribly to a bar full of strangers. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t hold a note or match the key - Daniel had presence and was always entertaining. The song was almost over when a change of light caught Lando’s eye and he swivelled back to see the saloon doors swing shut behind you. 

Lando nearly fell off his chair. The sight of your smile was dazzling and he swore the colours in the room were brighter because of it. He hardly remembered to breathe as you cast your eyes around the bar, searching for something he suddenly hoped he had. Disappointment landed heavy on his chest as your pretty eyes settled on the pool tables and he wondered which one of the handsome men was lucky enough to have you. 

He started to turn away and wash the bitter taste of jealousy from his mouth with his drink when he saw the smile dim. It was like a cloud had come and blocked the sun, shadows curving your lips down until they pressed to a hard line and your eyes narrowed on a man. Lando swallowed at the change thinking you was even more beautiful, like lightning in a thunderstorm. Beautiful, dangerous, deadly.

Then you were gone, the tassels on your boots swaying quickly as you disappeared out the door as quickly as you came. 

“Whatcha looking for?” Daniel asked as he dropped back into his seat. Lando hadn’t even noticed the song had ended while he watched the empty space in the doorway, another singer taking the stage. 

“N-nothing,” he stammered quickly as he turned back to the bar and raised his glass to his dry lips. 

“Whatever you say, mate,” Daniel chuckled as he clapped Lando on the back. “She was hot though, right?” 

Lando coughed and sputtered on his drink as Daniel laughed knowingly. “Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah, but I’m not blind. And since you’re single, you should get off your ass and lasso yourself a lady friend. You know what they say: save a horse, ride a cowgir-” Lando clamped a hand over Daniel’s mouth as his cheeks turned pink. 

“You can’t say that, dude! You are totally going to get cancelled one day.”

Daniel shrugged and sent him a lopsided grin as he looked over Lando’s shoulder. “Looks like it’s  your lucky day.”

—

White hot rage left your hands shaking as you dropped the baseball bat and walked away, the metal clanking loudly on the asphalt of the parking lot. You didn’t even notice the trickle of blood running down your fingertips from cutting your palm with Damon’s hunting knife when you slashed the tyres of his Ford Raptor. You couldn’t feel anything except the burning need for revenge.

All the joy you had felt on the drive to the bar had been forgotten. The phone call with the news seemed like a lifetime ago and you hated him all the more for ruining what should have been the best day of your life so far.

After years of hard work you were finally catching a break and had been signed to Big Loud and would soon be recording your own country music. You had been so excited you had left work early and driven across town to surprise Damon. What a surprise he would get.

You looked ahead at the bar you had left, still seeing the way he curled himself around her, the pretense of pretending to teach her how to play pool - the same trick he had used to get close to you the night you met. Rotten bastard. It made you question the last two years together and how many other women he pulled the same moves on. You were going to teach him a lesson, and maybe save her from the same fate.

You swaggered into the bar and felt eyes on you, but the only pair that didn’t turn were his. Damon was too enraptured by the woman dancing against him, a dainty cocktail spilling over her glass. 

“Mind if I butt in next, Jimmy?” you asked the old man who loved to sing a bit of Kenny Rogers after a few drafts of beer. 

“Not at all, pumpkin, been a while since you joined us.” The song was just finishing and Jimmy jutted his chin at Damon as he poured two shots of whiskey, offering one to you. “Say, ain’t that your old man?”

“Not any more.” You downed the shot and inhaled the burn before taking the stage and telling the band what to play. 

—

Lando stepped off his stool as the song started and his feet carried him closer to the stage with Daniel right at his side, not that he noticed. You hadn’t even parted your lips but he knew, somehow he just knew, you would sound perfect. The song was one he recognised, maybe from a movie or just on the radio, but it hit differently when he saw your eyes boring holes into the couple still dancing together by the pool tables. 

Right now, he's probably slow dancin' with a bleach-blonde tramp and she's probably gettin' frisky. Right now, he's probably buyin' her some fruity little drink 'cause she can't shoot whiskey. Right now, he's probably up behind her with a pool stick showin' her how to shoot a combo. And he don't know…

Lando couldn’t breathe as he watched the realisation dawn on the stranger who looked up from the blonde woman he had been grinding on. The man’s jaw went slack and he half shoved the woman from his lap as he straightened up, a small shake of his head when he met the eyes on the stage. He could almost hear the whispered ‘oh no’ fall from his lips and he felt a smug satisfaction on your behalf. 

I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped-up four-wheel drive. Carved my name into his leather seats. I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights. Slashed a hole in all four tires. Maybe next time, he'll think before he cheats.

Your smile was dark and you watched Damon blanch at the sight, only making you feel even better for what you had done.

I might've saved a little trouble for the next girl, 'cause the next time that he cheats, Oh, you know it won't be on me. No, not on me.

“No, no, baby, no,” Damon whined as he tugged the short strands of his hair and rushed out of the bar, leaving his date in a state of confusion until her brain caught up and her hands shot to cover her mouth in shock. 

“Yeah, he played us both, honey,” you said as you shoved the mic back in the stand and crossed your arms as the doors burst open.

“You crazy bitch!” Damon tried to rush the stage only to find himself shoved back by a handsome stranger who was apparently a lot stronger than he looked. “Get the fuck out of my way!”

“Not gonna happen, mate,” he said with a chuckle, his British accent sweet on the ears. “I think you’ve done enough, don’t you?”

“She ruined my fucking truck! Do you know how much that cost?”

You scoffed and stepped up behind the stranger, feeling bolder as you saw his arms flex ready to protect you. “Too much, but I guess you had to overcompensate for something small,” you said as your eyes darted to his trousers and the taller companion barely contained his laugh.

“Oh, I like this one, Lando. She’s got fire.”

“Just give me my house key and leave, it’s over.” You held out your palm waiting until he fisted his keys from his pocket and cursed your name as he pulled it off the keyring. 

“Where the fuck am I meant to live?”

You looked over at the woman and asked, “Do you want to take him home, honey?” She shook her head now that she knew he was a no good cheater and your smile widened as you turned back to Damon. “You’ll be nice and cozy in your pickup.”

He stepped forward but Lando’s friend joined him shoulder to shoulder and Damon quickly realised he was not going to win whatever went down. With his tail between his legs, he turned and grumbled his way out the door before the band started up and Jimmy kicked off with We’ve Got Tonight. 

“I don’t know how to thank you,” you said as the two strangers finally deemed it safe to turn their backs on the door and face you. A pair of stormy blue eyes met yours and you blinked twice before you managed to look away, scanning a quick glance over the messy styled curls on his head to the slim black t-shirt that fitted perfectly. Your lips dried as you realised you were staring and he cleared his throat when he caught himself doing the same. 

“Can I buy you a drink?”

You bit your lip at the offer and tipped your head to the side. “I think I should be the one buying you a drink, your friend too. It’s the least I can do.”

“Daniel,” the taller man said with a grin and held his hand out to shake.

“Y/N.”

“Enchanté.”

“Uh, bless you.”

Lando laughed and the sound brought a smile to your face. “I know how you can thank me,” he said as he nodded to Jimmy who was grabbing a second microphone and pointing it your way. “I’m fairly sure this song is a duet. Know it?”

You smirked as you stepped back and gave him a wink before taking the stage, his eyes never leaving yours and you sang just for him.

We've got tonight, Who needs tomorrow? Let's make it last, Let's find a way Turn out the light, Come take my hand now We've got tonight, babe, Why don't we stay?

His nod was almost imperceptible and you weren’t sure if you imagined it as you let the question hang in the air while the music faded out. In two long, self-certain steps, he closed the distance and offered his hand to help you down the steps and you grinned at the warmth of his palm as he laced your fingers with his.

Suddenly he froze and looked down, concern etching his features as he pulled his hand back and found it stained red. “Fuck, you’re hurt.”

You blinked at the cut on your palm, only noticing the ache after your attention was drawn to it. “Huh, guess that’s what I get for slashing his tyres,” you murmured with a weak laugh.

“He deserved more than that,” Lando growled as he led you to the bar and asked for a first aid kit. “But he definitely didn’t deserve you.”

“You don’t know me, I could be a terrible person.” You winced as he cleaned the cut before pressing a bandage to stem the bleeding.

“I’m a pretty good judge of character, Y/N.” He pinned the bandage into place before lifting your hand to his lips and kissing the top softly. “I knew it from your smile when you arrived, and everything after just proves you’re strong.”

Your chin dipped as you felt your face flush and you couldn’t remember the last time someone was so sweet. “You really know how to make a girl feel special. So how long are you in town for?”

His lips turned down slightly as he sighed and reluctantly admitted. “We fly back to London tomorrow.”

You felt the same disappointment but chased it away and squeezed his hand that still held yours, your eyes meeting with the same idea flitting past. “We’ve got tonight?”

His smile returned and grew until his eyes wrinkled with how wide it was, brightening up his whole face and sparking yours to match. “Yeah, we’ve got tonight.”

Congrats world champion ❤️

Tangerine

Oscar Piastri x reader

Masterlist

Summary: You’re definitely not an insomniac. But Oscar keeps finding you awake at all hours, and he’s starting to get worried. Or: I wrote this while actually being unable to sleep, passed out for 3 hours, woke up and finished it. So… here you go, I guess?

Warnings: insomnia, anxiety/mild paranoia?, alcohol, limited knowledge of the actual structure of the MTC and the corporate structure of McLaren in general, a poorly researched night in Tokyo

The MTC lobby is empty, besides you. The lights are half turned off, motion sensors that have gone hours without detecting anything. You’ve stuck to your table in the corner. It’s quiet, just how you like it.

You look up from your notebook after who knows how long, blinking your weary eyes. Outside, the floodlights reflect off the inky black lake. There’s a car, pulling up in the drop off area outside the front doors. It’s Oscar, you think, his car one of a few that are easily recognizable. Sure enough, it’s confirmed when he climbs out of the driver’s side door. He leaves it running as he makes his way up to the door.

Oscar scans his pass and the doors wing open, followed by all of the lights in the lobby flickering on. You squint, fighting the urge to shield your eyes from the harsh lighting. Oscar is rushing through the lobby, a man on a mission, but he skids to a stop about halfway across the shiny tiled floor.

He turns, slowly, and makes eye contact with you. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”

You hold back a laugh, thinking that might be a little mean, all things considered. “What are you doing here?”

He sighs, hands hanging at his sides. “I forgot my phone charger, and my laptop, and…” he pauses, frowning at you. “What are you doing here?”

You raise your brows right back. “Working?”

You watch his eyes flicker across your setup. You’re still in the same McLaren sweatshirt you’d been wearing when you saw him that morning. Your hair is piled atop your head. Your laptop sits open in front of you, the only source of light before Oscar burst through the doors. There are papers and notebooks scattered on the tabletop. Your pen is missing- you selfishly hope that as he scours your table, he’ll spot it.

“You got here at 8am,” he says, bewildered. “It’s almost midnight. That’s almost 16 hours.”

He says nothing about the pen. Why would he? He doesn’t know it’s missing. Logically, it must be here somewhere, probably under a paper or clipped to a notebook, but you’ve given up.

“Yes,” you answer, smirking. “You’re great at math, Oscar.”

He rolls his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, home? Sleeping?”

You shrug. “I took breaks. It’s not like I’ve been working all day straight.”

You’re not lying. You’d taken a good, long lunch break, and an afternoon walk around the grounds. You’ve gotten up to stretch a couple times, made runs to the break room for coffee. You hope he doesn’t see straight through it, though. Hope he can’t see the dark circles under your eyes, the paleness of your skin, the exhaustion weighing your shoulders.

It’s not that you weren’t tired. You just knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep. One of those days. So instead, you had decided to be productive. Which had led to this- you in the lobby of your office building, hunched over a laptop. Oscar, the driver whose data you’re scouring, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Go grab your stuff,” you tell him, nodding towards the doors he’d been headed to. “You have an early flight tomorrow.”

He blinks wildly. “We’re on the same flight.”

You nod, because you both know this quite well. There’d been a meeting this morning about who had to be where and at what times. You’re on the first flight out with the main team, headed to Singapore.

“I’m not the one who has to drive the car at very high speeds this weekend,” you remind him, pointing the eraser of your pencil at him. “Or the one who has to be in front of the cameras. You need your beauty sleep.”

Oscar laughs at that, a happy sound that makes you smile, too. “Okay, okay. I’ll be right back.”

You think about disappearing to the bathroom or the break room while he’s gone, just to avoid any further questions. You know Oscar relatively well, though, and knowing him, he’d just wait around until you came back. Or worse, come and try to find you. You can picture it- you pouring your third cup of coffee in the last hour, Oscar watching from the doorway with disdain. You stay put, sipping from your mug and scribbling notes.

He’s back within a few minutes, a backpack in hand. His keys dangle from his fingertips. You don’t look up from your laptop as he walks towards you, that is until he’s standing right in front of you. You blink up at him through your lashes. There’s a frown on his face- this close, you know your lack of sleep must be obvious.

He nudges the top panel of your laptop with a single fingertip. “C’mon. Time to go home.”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, shaking your head. “I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”

“What, you just gonna stay here until we all meet up in the morning to go to the airport?” He scoffs.

“That would be ridiculous,” you laugh.

“It would,” he agrees. He seems to see straight through you, though. “Come on. Close the laptop, close the notebooks. You can work on this on the flight, like a normal person.”

“I’m trying to improve your car, you know.”

“I’m not leaving until you do,” he finally says, and you scoff with wide eyes. “And remember, I’m the one who has to actually drive the car. And go in front of the cameras. I need my beauty sleep.”

You rear your head back, unsure how to even counter that. He takes the opportunity to close the laptop for you, and you bat at his hands. Then he’s sweeping your papers into piles, stacking your notebooks and gathering them up into his arms.

“That’s my intellectual property, you know,” you scold him, reaching for the papers. He holds them up above your head easily, and you groan. “Okay, okay, I’ll go, just- I lost my pen, earlier. It’s my favorite one. I just have find it and then I promise I’ll go- you can go home, really, I’ll see you-“

He’s reaching for your head, suddenly, and you freeze. When his hand returns to your view, he’d holding the pen between his fingertips. You blink once, twice, then reach for it, but he’s holding it above your head within seconds, too.

“We’re leaving,” he tells you, firmly. “Come on. Up we go.”

You get to your feet reluctantly and pack your things into your bag. Oscar helps, handing you your papers in neat little piles. He keeps you in front of him as you both exit the lobby, like he’s afraid you might take off running further into the office building. His car is still parked out front, still running, and you see him wince.

“Didn’t expect to be inside for so long,” he says sheepishly.

You laugh lightly, starting your walk towards the employee lot. It’s down a well lit path, but every step feels heavy this late at night.

“Wait,” he says, and you pause. “Do you want a ride? You seem tired. You know, sometimes that’s as bad as driving drunk.”

“I’m not gonna fall asleep behind the wheel,” you tell him. You say it with confidence, because it’s pretty likely you’re not going to fall asleep at all tonight.

He cocks his head at you, cast in the bright glow of the floodlights. “At least let me drive you to your car. Otherwise, how do I know you’re not going to just go back inside?”

You roll your eyes. “And how do I know you’re not trying to kidnap me?”

You end up getting in the car, because he makes it pretty clear he’s not leaving until you do. You contemplate just walking to your own car, but honestly your feet feel so heavy it’s just not worth the fight. Oscar, to his credit, doesn’t kidnap you. He also doesn’t comment on your very modest car, the only one left in the parking lot. He does try to offer you a ride home one more time, but he lets it go after your repeat refusal.

You say goodbye, climb into your own car, and start the engine. The heat kicks on quickly, thank god, and you start up a playlist. It’s only when you look up, ready to leave, that you notice his car is still sitting there. You can just barely see Oscar behind the windshield, and he waves at you. He’s waiting for you to leave.

You flip him off as you roll out of the parking lot, and you watch him laugh in response.

…..

You’re one of the first ones at the office the next morning, and therefore one of the first ones on a shuttle to the airport. Oscar’s chronically late, or as he would call it, chronically precisely on time, so you don’t see him until he’s climbing on the plane. McLaren’s rented out a charter plane for this trip, with the double header making it the easiest solution.

You’re already settled into a seat, laptop open on the table in front of you, headphones on. You barely even look up when you feel him looking over you, but then he’s tugging one side of your headphones off your ear.

“Did you even sleep?” He asks, brows furrowed.

“Yes,” you lie, raising your brows at him defensively.

Oscar raises his brows in return. He obviously doesn’t believe you.

Before he can say anything else, Lando’s behind him, leaning up over his shoulder. “Oscar, mate, get a move on.”

Oscar rolls his eyes but does as Lando’s urging. There’s not assigned seats, per say, but the two drivers are headed towards the middle of the plane where their trainers and other senior staff are sitting. That’s how these things normally go- it just makes sense. They’ll have meeting on the plane, talk about meal plans and strategies and get ready for the weekend. You’ll spend your flight going through the data just one more time, trying to unlock all of the secrets to give Oscar the best possible chance on Sunday.

…..

Singapore is good. Not great, not perfect, but good. For Lando’s team, it’s a huge weekend. And honestly, 4th place for Oscar in his rookie year is huge too. He’s thrilled, tells you as much after the race, after the briefing.

“I know you worked hard this weekend, put in a lot of hours,” he says. “Thank you.”

“Just doing my job,” you say with a shrug.

“Right.” He says. “Thanks, though.”

You smile up at him, knowing it’s wobbly and insincere. You don’t take compliments well. “No problem.”

When you get to the hotel that night, you lay down in the bed and try to fall asleep. It’s no use, really, because it’s not your bed, and because your mind is racing. There’s nothing even bothering you, that’s the stupid thing. Just… a billion thoughts flying by all at once. So you wander the hotel, up and down the stairs, down the halls. You make a pit stop in the exercise room, walk on the treadmill, try out the towing machine. You’ve never been one for working out, but the internet says exercise can help with sleep issues. It’s worth a try, but it doesn’t work.

You contemplate sneaking into the closed hotel pool, but ultimately decide against it. You’d probably get caught, and then you’d get in trouble, and it would somehow make it back to your boss. Then you’d get fired in Singapore, left to find your own way home. So instead, you head for the vending machines on your floor. There’s got to be something in there that’ll cure the racing in your head. Or at least bring you some comfort in the dead of night.

What doesn’t bring you comfort in the dead of night is a face in the reflection on the glass of the vending machine. You nearly scream when you meet someone else’s eyes. You whirl around, arms in a defensive position, and come face to face with Oscar.

“Would’ve pegged you for flight, not fight,” he says drowsily.

“You can’t sneak up on people like that,” you hiss, dropping your hands to your sides.

“Payback,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face clumsily. “B‘sides, I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you. I was trying to get a snack.”

You blink at him. “Oscar, it’s 3am.”

He nods, blinks slowly. You almost expect his eyes to stay closed, almost expect him to fall asleep standing up.

“I woke up starving,” he says, shuffling towards one of the vending machines. “Promise you won’t tell Kim? I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

He’s cute when he’s sleepy. You want to tuck him into bed and tell him bedtime stories. You want to kiss his forehead. You blink hard, trying to reset your brain. The sleep deprivation is really getting to you. This is your coworker, your teammate.

You shrug and nod in agreement. “Would’ve kept the secret without the bribe, but if you’re offering…”

Oscar laughs, a quiet sound in the empty night air. “What’ll it be, then?”

He’s leaning against the glass heavily. He must still be half asleep. You can’t blame him. You point at the bag of chips you’d been eyeing, and then at the gummy worms in the corner. He nods in approval of both, selects them, feeds the machine his money. Then he’s picking his own snack- a poptart and a bag of Cheetos. He backs away, but you make a noise and point at the drinks machine.

“And a Red Bull?” You ask, pointing at your favorite flavor where it sits, lit up by fluorescent light.

He turns back, almost puts the money in, and then he pauses and looks at you. “It’s 3am.”

“Right, we established that.”

“Why would you drink Red Bull at 3am?” He asks, bewildered.

You shrug. “Because I like Red Bull.”

“Go work for them, then,” he suggests. You laugh. “Actually, I have a feeling that would be severely detrimental to your health. Too many free energy drinks. Do you ever sleep?”

“Those are big words for 3am,” you tease, nudging his shoulder. “Come on. The tangerine one, please.”

“I’m not buying you a Red Bull.” He shakes his head. “I am walking you back to your room and you’re going to bed.”

“I’ll tell Kim about your snacks.”

“No, you won’t.”

You let him walk you back to your room. He stands there as you swipe the key card, as you open the door and shuffle inside. He says goodnight from the doorway. You close the door after you echo the sentiment, lock all the locks, and lay down in your bed. You close your eyes and try to go to sleep. You really, truly try. But when the clock turns over to 4am, and you realize it’s useless, you roll out of bed and head down to the vending machine. You buy the Redbull with your own money, carry it back to your room, turn on the tv, and settle in until the sun comes up.

…..

Tokyo may just be your favorite city in the entire world. Everything is open all the time. You’ve never felt more seen by a city. The days that you and the rest of the team spend there between the two races are heaven. You have meetings during the day, but they’re short and easy. At night, there are plenty of places for you to roam, plenty of things to do and see.

You spend your nights in ramen bars, in arcades, in toy stores that seem to stretch on for miles. You collect so many souvenirs you’re worried you’ll have to buy a second suitcase. Frankly, you’re going on week two of sleeping only in one to two hour stints, and it’s likely you’re beginning to get a little manic. In Tokyo, though, nobody bats an eye.

You join the team for breakfast in the hotel lobby on Thursday. You’ve somehow ended up at a table with Oscar and Lando- you’d gotten here before anyone else, and Oscar had chosen the seat across from you. Lando asks what you’ve been up to. They’ve been busy with promo stuff, you’ve hardly seen the two of them all week.

You regale them with your stories and hand off your phone to Lando so he can scroll through your pictures. Oscar listens with rapt attention, leaning to look at the photos too.

“How do you do all this and find time to sleep?” Lando asks, an amused tone in his voice.

“She doesn’t, mate,” Oscar replies, pointing at your phone. “Look at the time stamps.”

You roll your eyes and snatch the phone away from them. Lando’s looking at you with wide eyes, Oscar is smiling amusedly.

“Sleep is for the weak,” you tell them, and you swear Lando’s eyes are going to bug out of his head. “We’re in Tokyo, I’m making the most of it.”

To Oscar’s credit, he doesn’t bring up the encounter at the MTC, or the run in at the vending machines. Still, this revelation seems to bewilder Lando.

“Sleep is like, the most important thing,” he says, shaking his head. “For your health.”

“Not all of us have to be in tip top shape,” you say, stabbing your fork into a waffle on your plate. “Some of us get to have fun. Exhibit B. Our breakfasts.”

Lando looks at your plate, filled with waffles and bacon and your cup of coffee, next to it. He casts his glance to his sad looking bowl of oatmeal, then, and sighs heavily. Oscar’s laughing at the two of you, though his plate looks just as sad.

“When you pass out halfway through the day,” Lando says, a retaliatory furrow in his brow, “I’m telling Andrea why.”

“That won’t happen,” you reassure him. “And besides, it’s media day. I have it easy.”

…..

Oscar makes it on the podium on Sunday. You scream your lungs out with the rest of the team, run to the pit wall, watch the podium celebrations. He’s wrapping everyone in enthusiastic hugs, slapping everyone’s backs and grinning so, so widely. All the lost sleep feels worth it, just to see him smile like that.

When he makes it to you, he hauls you into his chest, arms around your shoulders, holding you tight. You could stay like that forever, if he’d let you. He tucks his chin atop your head and you think you’d like to make a home right there, in his arms.

The celebrations go late, and so does the debrief. By the time it’s all said and done, everyone looks exhausted, including the drivers. They start shuttling you all back to the hotel for the night, back in Tokyo so you can get on the plane easily tomorrow morning. You’re just glad to be back in the city. On a night like tonight, buzzing with adrenaline and caffeine, there’s no way you’re falling asleep.

You somehow end up in a shuttle with Oscar. He smells like champagne and sweat, and you tease him about it when he sits down in the back row next to you.

He smiled sheepishly. “So I smell like a podium finisher, then.”

You watch as the city goes by out the window and listen to him chat idly with the others in the van. When you get back, you’re the last one out of the car. He’s waiting outside the hotel, leaning on the wall.

“So, what’s your plan for the night?” He asks, cocking a brow.

“No judgement?” You ask.

“No judgement,” he promises.

You shrug. “Not exactly sure. There’s a lot to do. I’ll probably get some ramen, maybe go shopping. Might just take a walk.”

He nods. “Sleep?”

“Not high on the priority list,” you admit.

He nods again. “Can I come with?”

You blank, staring at him. “What?”

“On your adventure,” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can I come along?”

Suddenly your heart is pounding in your chest. He wants to come with? Why? There’s a part of you that doesn’t like the idea, that thinks your sleepless adventures are for you and you alone. The other part of you, the one that wins out, thinks it might not be so bad to have some companionship.

“… sure,” you agree, eyeing him carefully. “But you have to play along. No forcing me to go to sleep.”

“Promise,” he says, holding out his pinky.

You hook yours with his and seal the deal.

…..

You both head up to your hotel rooms to change clothes, and in Oscar’s case, to take a shower. He sends you a text when he’s ready and you meet him in the lobby. He’s in a casual outfit, jeans and a hoodie. You’re dressed similarly, in a pair of black jeans and a crewneck.

“Where to?” He asks, wide grin on his face.

It turns out that Oscar is the ideal late night adventure companion. You start your night out at a sushi conveyor restaurant, both of you joking about how Lando would never dare to eat there. You eat to your heart’s content and make comments about fueling up for the night ahead. He even joins you in having an energy drink, some Japanese brand that you’ve never heard of. Oscar reads part of the label to you, balks at the amount of caffeine in it, and drinks it anyways.

After the restaurant, the two of you climb into a cab and head to the Shibuya district. It’s crawling with people, buzzing with energy, and you feel right at home. Oscar sticks close to your side, hanging onto the back of your sweatshirt as you cross the busy crosswalks in a sea of people. When you turn, though, he’s smiling like he’s having the time of his life. The two of you climb the stairs to an observatory where you can watch the dance of pedestrians and traffic from above. There’s a glow to the city that feels akin to how your brain feels when you can’t sleep- like it never goes out, never turns off.

You tell this to Oscar, who gives you a contemplative look.

“Is it the energy drinks?” He asks. His hand is on your wrist, likely just to keep track of you in the crowds.

You shake your head. “The energy drinks came after the… not sleeping-“

“Insomnia,” he suggests.

“… not sleeping,” you repeat, narrowing your eyes at him. “Anyways. I was like a zombie. The energy drinks make it so I’m functional. I figure if I’m gonna be awake, may as well enjoy it.”

You head back out onto the streets and begin to wander again. Oscar follows along, always holding onto you in some way, always smiling when you look at him. The two of you wander through art galleries and museums lit up with neon lights. Somewhere in the middle of one of them, he slips his fingers between yours. You’re not complaining. There’s something grounding, leveling about his presence.

You stop for drinks at a bar- some sort of local beer that Oscar orders for both of you in Japanese. It’s followed by a vodka Red Bull, at your insistence. Oscar wrinkles his nose but drinks the whole thing, seemingly determined to match you.

Next door, there’s a highly American themed bowling alley. Oscar laughs about how Logan would love it and pulls you inside. It’s the first stop of the night that he’s suggested, so you go along eagerly. He’s snapping pictures, ones to send to Logan, ones for himself, ones of you smiling, renting out bowling shoes. He pays for the game, and you both do terribly. The worker puts the bumper guards up out of pity, because the two of you obviously have no idea what you’re doing. He’s a world renowned athlete, you’re a highly skilled engineer, and yet, you both suck at bowling.

“When did the in-“ you fix him with a glare, and he stops mid sentence. “When did the not sleeping start?”

You look up at the ceiling of the bowling alley and purse your lips, watching the disco ball spin. “Next question.”

He huffs and shrugs, rolling the ball down the lane. “I don’t have a next question.”

“What’s your family like?”’you ask him, and he smiles, softer than you’ve ever seen him smile before.

“Well, I have three sisters,” he starts, eyes lighting up.

Somewhere between the bowling alley, the next bar, and the shopping mall you end up in, you start to really get to know Oscar. It’s funny how the night opens people up. Everything feels safer in the dark, surrounded by other people. It’s creeping up on 1am- in theory, both of you should be sound asleep. The fact that you’re not makes anything okay. You learn about his family, his childhood, his friends back home and in the UK. You tell him about yourself, too. He listens with an eager look on his face, laughing at all the right moments, squeezing your hand at the right ones, too.

You end up in a store that’s packed to the brim with stuffed animals. He lets you drag him around the whole thing, pointing out cute ones and the ones you think are a bit odd. Then you gasp, pointing excitedly, pulling on his hand.

“It’s you,” you squeak, the delirium beginning to set in. It’s a stuffed Kangaroo, and he groans softly. “Look, you’re even making the same face.”

Oscar seems unable to argue with that. Both he and the stuffed kangaroo do seem to be scowling. He smiles instead, picks it up, and takes it to the register. He buys it before you can really even say anything, and the cashier packages it in a bag. The kangaroo’s head sticks out over the paper, your second faithful companion for the night.

By 3am, Oscar is starting to drag. He perks up every time you look at him and smiles brightly, but you can tell. His grip on your hand is looser lately, and his blinks are growing longer and longer. You turn to him, a sympathetic smile on your face.

“We can go back to the hotel, if you want,” you say, poking his cheek lightly.

He smiles. “Are you tired?”

You sigh. “No, but you are.”

“I’m okay,” he insists, shaking his head. “What about the batting cages you mentioned? That sounded fun.”

You pout at him. “Oscar, you’re half asleep. You’d definitely get hit by a ball.”

He nods in agreement. “Maybe I just need another energy drink?”

You cock your head at him, take in his heavy eyelids, his parted lips. “That would be your third one of the night. And that would be very unhealthy.”

He nods again. “Yeah. Okay. Just… I said I’d be along for the ride.”

“We can hang out at the hotel,” you suggest. “The pool area is open all night.”

“I didn’t bring my swimsuit.”

“Me neither.”

You somehow end up with a pizza on your way back, and the two of you plant yourselves in the pool area on one of the chaise lounge chairs, the pizza box in front of you. You eat the greasy, cheesy food, and even Oscar indulges in it. He has his hand planted on the chair behind your back. Every so often you lean backs against his arm just to feel his presence. His knee bumps against yours, and you smile.

The pool is clear and blue. Neither of you will be swimming, but this felt like a neutral enough place. You’d thought about inviting him back to your room but had felt weird about it. There’s something calming about the still water and the smell of the chlorine, anyways.

He leans his head on your shoulder. The heavy weight of him is nice. He’s solid, sturdy, grounding. You’re chatting idly about something that happened at the race, something he’d missed while he was driving the car. You break off in the middle of a sentence to yawn, and then you close your eyes for just a moment. Oscar’s breath hitches.

The two of you are silent for a moment. You stare into the clear water, aching to drift and float and fall asleep. You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest.

“It started when I was a kid,” you tell him. “I just… stopped sleeping. It comes and goes in cycles. Sometimes I’m fine, sometimes I just…”

“Can’t sleep,” Oscar finishes for you, his words contradicting the sleepy tone of his voice.

“Yeah,” you say, blinking slowly again.

Your head droops, resting against his. He’s so warm, so comforting. He must feel you drifting, must feel your grip faltering, because then he’s sitting up, tucking you into his chest.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asks, drowsily.

“M’so tired,” you admit, curling into him. “Justwannasleep.”

Tears are stinging at your eyes. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t been prepared for this part. The moment when your lack of sleep catches up to you, and you become an emotional, distraught mess. You’re seconds away from full on sobbing.

Oscar seems to sense this. “Okay. Okay, how about- I have a pull out couch in my suite. Why don’t you- if you’re comfortable, you could come sleep there. Maybe it would help to know somebody’s there if you need it? Maybe-“

“Okay,” you answer, nodding against his chest. “Okay, yeah.”

He takes care of the empty pizza box and guides you up to his room. You know there’ll be questions to answer if anyone sees you, but you’re comforted by the fact that it’s 4am and nearly every sane person is sound asleep. He scans into the room, and you let out a sigh when he lets go of your hand. He moves quickly, unfolding the pull out couch, grabbing extra blankets from the cabinets. Before you know it, you’re sitting down on the bed, rubbing your eyes.

It’s strange, now that you’re here. You’re in Oscar’s hotel room. You’ve just spent the night wandering Tokyo with him. You’re exhausted, sleep deprived, still on the verge of tears. Everything feels hazy and blurry.

“I can… go, if you want,” he says, and you blink up at him through your blurry vision. “Or I can sit with you till you fall asleep.”

“That might take a while,” you tell him. “Like, you’re more likely to fall asleep. Even… when I finally get to this point, it takes a while.”

He shrugs. “We could put on a movie.”

That’s exactly what you do. He turns on the tv, spots Finding Nemo on the guide, and turns it on. He sinks down on the bed, leaning against the couch back. You crawl up next to him as he turns the volume low. At first, you just sit shoulder to shoulder. Then he reaches out, wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulls you into his side. You sigh against him. Cradled close, you let the exhausted tears flow. He can’t see you, probably, and even if he can, you can’t bring yourself to care. He leans down, brushes his lips against your forehead.

“M’right here,” he says, softly. “I’ve got you.”

You wake up at 8am with your head in his lap. His alarm is blaring from the side table, and you’re both springing apart. He fumbles for his phone, shutting the alarm off with the shaky hands of someone who’s just been woken up from not nearly enough sleep.

You, on the other hand, have gotten the most consecutive sleep of your last two weeks. You stretch, rubbing the blur from your eyes and blinking at him.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“For what?” He asks, voice steady.

“For… I don’t know. Keeping you up so late? Falling asleep on you?” You shrug. “I… that was a lot, for me to put that all on you.”

Oscar shrugs, so nonchalant about it. “It’s what friends are for.”

You nod, though you’re not convinced. You pull away, and Oscar’s soft smile drops to a flat frown. He reaches for you, but you dodge his touch.

“I should go,” you tell him. “We have to leave soon, people are going to be getting up and- if they see me come out of your room-“

“We can be friends,” he says, again, brows furrowing. “We didn’t do anything wrong, everything is okay-“

He doesn’t understand. It’s fine for him, but this is too much for you. He wants to be friends, but you’re looking at him and thinking about how if you could curl up on his chest every night, you might never have trouble sleeping again. He wants friends, you want more. You can’t have more, though, because there’s no way you’ll keep your job. And he doesn’t want that, anyways. Why would he? You’re just his pity project, the poor girl who can’t sleep, who fails at counting sheep.

“I should go,” you repeat, standing up. You can’t look at him, can’t watch him watching you. “Thank you. For everything. I’m sorry.”

He stands up too, and he grabs your hand. You pause, stuck between ripping your hand from his and running, or whirling around and snapping at him. Fight or flight. Instead, you take a deep breath. You’re still sleep deprived, still exhausted. 4 hours doesn’t fix two weeks of little to no sleep.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, shoulders sagging. “I have a hard time letting people take care of me.”

“It’s okay,” Oscar says. “Just- come sit down? Let’s talk, okay?”

You sink down on the bed, rest your elbows on your knees and your face in your hands. “Why do you care?”

Oscar sits down next to you. He reaches out, knits your fingers together. You’re reminded of the art galleries, of the crowds, of the bowling alley. You split yourself open last night, in the safety of the time when you should’ve been sleeping. He saw you and he’s still here, somehow, hanging on. Your bones are tired. Your head is pounding. You need caffeine.

“I care,” he says, gently, “because I care about you. Because I think you’re a good person, and I want to get to know you better. And because this whole thing is not healthy.”

You sigh. His thumb brushes over the back of your hand methodically, back and forth. The funny thing is, you could fall asleep again, just like this. You could lean into his shoulder, let the warmth of him deep into your skin, and fall asleep. You wonder if he knows it.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, rubbing at your face sleepily. “Osc, I’ve been like this for years. It’s not just going to change now.”

“Not overnight,” he says, softly. There’s a callous on his thumb, you can feel the scrape of it over your skin. It’s oddly soothing. “But I can try. I can be here.”

“Why would you want to?”

“Because despite all the craziness, last night was the most fun I’ve had in weeks,” he says, and you could cry. “I want to spend time with you. I want to get to know you. Take you on dates. The whole nine yards.”

You should’ve expected this. Oscar can be shy, and quiet, but he can be straightforward, too. He’s pretty easy to read. He’s blunt with Lando, almost to the point of contention sometimes. But you’d been so focused on trying to prove to him that you were just fine that you hadn’t considered he was feeling the sparks, too. That maybe he wasn’t holding onto you in the crowd just so he didn’t lose you. That maybe he liked the feeling of your skin on his, too.

“If you want that,” he says, voice low.

You blink blearily, pull away to look up at him. “I do.”

He nods, leans forward, kisses your forehead. The rest of it will come later, you think. You can work all the details out when you’re both more awake. Right now, he pulls you into his chest and flops back onto the bed.

“We have an hour before anyone comes looking for us,” he says, rubbing your back lightly. “Close your eyes? You don’t have to sleep, just-“

You blink once, twice, and then you’re fast asleep before he can get another word out.

…..

Oscar wins the sprint race in Qatar, and then takes second on Sunday. He’s nothing but endless wide grins all weekend, despite the heat and the dehydration and his obvious exhaustion. You laugh when you watch him lay down on the floor in the cool down room and smile when he gets sprayed with champagne on the podium. He chases you through the garage afterwards to give you a hug, despite your screeching about how sticky he is.

He tucks you into his chest. “Couldn’t have done it without you, baby.”

Later, you help corral a very tired Oscar and Lando to the shuttles and back to the hotel. They’re each stumbling over their own feet, giggling and laughing about the race, shoving at each other’s shoulders. For a minute, you’re walking through an empty parking lot, far from any other McLaren staff, and Oscar links his fingers with yours. They fit together like puzzle pieces. His fingers are sticky with champagne, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Lando sees and doesn’t say anything, just smiles.

You’re keeping it quiet for now. Time to figure it out between the two of you before you get your bosses involved. You have a feeling it’ll be mostly okay. You’ll figure it out, one way or another.

You follow Oscar up to his hotel room, saying goodnight to Lando as he heads further down the hall. He knits his fingers with yours again, leads you into his room, and collapses onto the bed.

“I’m exhausted,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Are you?”

You smile down at him, laid out on the bed. He should probably shower, at the very least change his clothes, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him that.

You sigh. “I mean, yeah, but if you’re asking if I’ll be able to sleep… probably not.”

He nods in understanding and purses his lips. “D’you think… would you just… stay, until I fall asleep?” He asks, blinking up at you. “After that you can take my card and get a Red Bull and go do whatever, just-“

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” you tell him.

It’s the easiest thing you’ve ever done. He gets ready for bed, and you do the same. You lean against the headboard and he crawls up the bed. He puts his head on a pillow in your lap, curls up into a little c shape. He’s very cat like, you’ve noticed, especially when he’s sleepy. You run your fingers through his hair, the tv playing quietly in the background, and he sighs and closes his eyes.

“Goodnight,” you murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple.

He’s out within minutes. Oscar is a sound sleeper. You could move him, could shift his head and get up. You could wander the halls, take his card and buy all the energy drinks you desire. But you look down at him, his brow unfurrowed, lips parted, and you can’t bring yourself to do it. You could sit here and watch him breathe all night. It’s a terrifying and comforting thought, all at once.

You don’t sleep. It’s likely you’ll crash on the flight home, or maybe shortly after that. With your luck, you’ll pass out in a meeting when you get back to the MTC. Oscar doesn’t scold you when he wakes up and it’s obvious you’ve been awake all night.

He gets you coffee from the breakfast bar, exactly how you like it. And when he finds you in the backseat of the airport shuttle, he hands you a tangerine Red Bull. It’s early, the sun just peeking up over the horizon, washing the whole city with orange. He’s smiling at you, and you’re smiling right back.

When you fall asleep on his shoulder on the way to the airport, nobody dares to say a word.

…..

“Did you hear we’re gonna be sponsored by Monster next year?” Lando asks, throwing a tennis ball at a wall in the courtyard.

You sit up in the grass nearby, eyes lighting up. “You’re kidding. Free Monster?”

Oscar, whose stomach you’d been laying on, sits up behind you and wraps his arm around your waist. He rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Your consumption will be restricted,” he says, and you laugh.

You suppose that’s fair. Besides, Monster is fine, but nothing will ever top tangerine Red Bull.

check out the companion blurb, Glad You’re Here

thanks for reading, hope you sleep better than me! you can find my other fics here! sweet dreams y’all

Shut Up And Cuddle Me - Lando Norris

<word count - 558>

Apart from your bed, the couch was the comfiest item of furniture in your apartment. When you were sat on the couch, whether it be watching TV, or reading a book, you always found yourself falling asleep as you sunk into the plushness of it. 

Right now was no exception, as your eyelids grew heavy, your book flopped down into your lap as you let sleep engulf you. The silence of your home made it easier for sleep to lull you in, and you figured you'd wake up by the time Lando arrived home.

Later that day, Lando opened the door and kicked his shoes off in the entrance hall of your apartment. "Baby?" He called out, the lack of a response worrying him slightly. Normally, you'd text him if you weren't going to be home. 

"Baby?" he called out again, a bit louder this time. His eyes scanned the apartment, before all of his worries fizzled away when he saw the curled up lump under the blankets on the couch. He lightly padded over, silently sitting down next to you on the couch.

He allowed his eyes to trace over your features and every perfect indent of your face. All he could hear was the quiet huff of your feather-light breaths that gently blew the hair resting next to your face. He liked these moments: having you safe and sound where nothing could harm you.

"Are you going to keep staring at me?" you mumbled, keeping your eyes closed as you shifted. In reality, you had woken up as soon as he had called out for you, but you couldn't be bothered to move. "Yeah, I think I will," he nodded with a smirk, before realising, "Shit I didn't wake you up, did I?" he sheepishly asked. 

"Yeah, you did," you dead-panned, opening one of your eyes to look at him. He was always handsome, but he was a lovely sight for sleepy eyes. "Sorry, I didn't know-" he started, sounding slightly panicked. "Don't worry, it's fine," you huffed, shuffling around some more. 

"But you were sleeping, and you were so peaceful, and I interrupted that," he carried on, tucking the strands of loose hair behind your ear gently. "Honestly, it doesn't matter," you told him, closing your eye again. "But I-"

"Lando, just shut up and cuddle me if you feel that bad," you teased, and you didn't have to tell him twice. Anytime you said the word, Lando would stop whatever he was doing to wrap his arms around you and hold you until he had to let you go.  

"I can do that," he agreed, as you shimmied forward and he slotted in behind you. He draped your blanket back over the both of you as his arms slotted around your waist and your legs tangled together like pieces of a puzzle. 

"Wake me up when it's time for dinner," you instructed, pushing yourself into him as much as you could. Lando gently kissed your head, before muttering a soft, "OK," as he let himself sink into the couch as he held you. 

His fingers subconsciously trailed over your arm, the soothing gesture more like an instinct than a conscious action. Sure, the couch was comfy, but even sleeping on the floor would be made comfier if you had Lando snuggling you like his life depended on it. 

A/N - I was scrolling through my Lando pinterest board and jesus I am slacking on my love for this man. He was always in my top 3 without question, but damn I think I'm blind. Lando girlies, where are you at? Also this is one of my favourite Lando photos... Requests are open, by the way. Drop anything you want, from the sweetest to the smuttiest 😉

|masterlist|

Oh ! For the Fanfiction Trope MASH-UP, would you be willing to write about number 2 Royal AU, with number 98 curses for lestappen please 🙏

listen i was thinking about different curse ideas and then i suddenly remembered charles's monac curse and well... then i couldn't not write that. so!!!! driver!charles/prince!max au it is :)

prompt taken from this list, feel free to send me one!

royal au + curses

When you ask a driver what the best race to win is, they will give one of two answers; either their home Grand Prix, or Monaco. For Charles, these have always been one and the same.

And yet, he has never won.

A curse, they call it. Just dumb luck, Charles like to say.

But it still weighs on him, every year he DNF’s, every year he crashes into the barriers instead of crossing the finish line. At least he’s managed to do at least that, last year, in 2022. But this year, this year he’s determined.

He’s going to break the curse. He’s going to win.

He’s so laser focused, so all in, that he misses all the whispers around the paddock about important visitors until he slams head first into one of those visitors outside of the Ferrari motor home.

“I am so sorry,” says none other than Max Emilian, crown prince of the Netherlands.

“Oh,” Charles says, because well. He’s seen pictures of the man before, but it turns out they really don’t do him justice. Prince Max is gorgeous, with piercing blue eyes and broad shoulders and a very, very kissable mouth. “I mean, uh, I’m sorry. Your, uh, highness?”

Max laughs, the hand he used to steady Charles still on his shoulder, burning into Charles’s skin. “Please. Call me Max.”

“Right,” Charles says, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “Right, yeah Max. I can do that.”

Max sends him an amused look. “So, are you looking forward to the race?” He asks, and his hand slips off Charles’s shoulder. Charles immediately misses its warmth.

He pulls a face. “Sort of? I’ve not had the best luck in Monaco.”

“Ah, yes,” Max says, thoughtful look on his face. “The curse.” When Charles doesn’t say anything, just pulls a face, Max continues. “But you shouldn’t be worried. You’ve been driving well all season. Plus, you have pole. That’s already half the race.”

“You follow F1?” Charles asks, a little surprised. There something about Max, beyond the pretty eyes and the nice body, that is almost regal. Ethereal. It feels weird to picture him sitting on a couch in his sweatpants and a sweatshirt on Sunday’s, watching a race.

“Obsessed with it,” Max admits, almost a bit sheepish. “Begged my dad to let me drive kart when I was a kid. But apparently that wasn’t very appropriate, so,” He rubs the back of his neck, and gives Charles a ‘what can you do’ look. “Anyway, I like watching races a lot. The fast cars, the pretty boys,” He leans forward a little, and there’s suddenly an almost mischievous smile on his face, like he’s challenging Charles.

Charles blinks. Opens his mouth. Closes it. If he knew better, he’d say the crown prince of the Netherlands is currently flirting with him. But he knows better so that can’t be it. Right? Still. Can’t hurt to try. “Pretty boys, huh?” Charles says leaning back against the wall of the motorhome. “And do you have a favorite?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Max eyes are twinkling, and he’s leaning forward, his arm suddenly right next to Charles’s head, his face inching closer and closer.

Charles opens his mouth to say something, anything, but then suddenly there’s a pair of lips on his, hands on his waist gently pressing him into the wall, and he forgets how to breath for a second.

His hands shoot up to land on Max’s arm, his bicep, and for a moment he lets himself be kissed, loses himself in the moment. But then Max is pulling away, smiling softly at him.

“What was that for?” Charles asks, eyes wide and mouth kiss swollen.

Max shrugs. “Good luck charm, I guess.”

“Oh,” Charles says. Wants to say more. Wants to do it again. But then a harried Ferrari employee is rounding the corner and spots them, and starts yelling at Charles in rapid Italian about how he was supposed to be in the garage like ten minutes ago, and Max is being pulled in another direction by his security detail, and the moment is broken.

(It’s not until later, much later, when he’s on the top step of the podium, hoisting the trophy in the air, that he remembers.

The thing about curses, is that they can be broken. And the most common way, the best way, is true love’s first kiss.

Charles is feeling very excited about the Zandvoort Grand Prix, all of a sudden.)

This is just too cute

Heyyy I loved your Oscar fic and I was wondering if you could write something where reader is Lando’s sister and she comes to a gp with him and she meets Oscar and she develops a crush on him

There's A Lightness In Your Eyes - OP81

Lando had told y/n plenty about Oscar ahead of the 2023 season since they spent time together during the break. Now they're in Bahrain for testing ahead of the Grand Prix and Lando, while not needing his sister there, has pulled her over to join him because apparently they need "bonding time". Something he demanded.

"If he seems kind of quiet, don't hold it against him. He's just kind of a quiet guy." Lando states to his sister who rolls her eyes. "What?"

"If either one of us can't handle an introvert, it's you Lando." Y/n giggles rolling her eyes then squealing when Lando pokes her side to tickle her. "Ah, don't do that!"

Lando does it again which ends up with Lando eventually chasing his sister to the McLaren unit ready to terrorise her even more in the safety of the paddock.

"Are you two really chasing each other?" Zak chuckles when y/n trips over and squeals hitting the ground pretty hard.

"She started it." Lando states, uncaring of his childishness since Zak doesn't actually care, so long as his team delivers on results and his drivers are confident about progress (along with backed up by data) then this is all acceptable.

Y/n spots the new teammate she recognises from McLaren posts and smiles jumping up to her feet. It only takes a couple seconds for their eye contact to make her insides turn to absolute mush.

"Hi..." Y/n smiles in a light voice moving to shake his hand. "I'm y/n."

"I'm Oscar." He states and his accent. HIS ACCENT.

Lando and Zak mainly engage in conversation while Oscar contributes slightly and y/n watches trying to keep her tongue in her mouth.

Y/n is no stranger to being attracted to a lot of the F1 drivers. Charles? Oh yeah that man is godly. Lewis? How could you not? Pierre's constant "fuck me" eyes? Yeah, she's been tempted. Carlos and literally everything he does? Y/n could hardly make eye contact.

But this thickly feeling in her chest, fluttering in her stomach. She's never felt like this. She's not foolish enough to believe that love at first sight is a thing, but this is definitely something she has never experienced before.

"Y/n, I got some media to do. So what do you want to do?" Lando asks making her snap out her thoughts of wondering what it might be like to feel Oscar's lips on her. They look soft. "Y/n, hello?"

"What's Oscar doing?" Y/n asks making Oscar look up a little shocked she's even asking.

"I'm going to grab some food."

"I'll stick with Oscar. I'm kind of hungry." Y/n shrugs trying to play it off as minor when actually being alone with Oscar is already making her feel giddy.

"Alright, well don't scare him. I'll see you later." Lando states fist-bumping his sister as he does with everyone apart from their grandmother.

"Bye." Y/n nods then turning to Oscar once her brother has left with Zak following suit to actually handle some business.

Y/n ends up nervously rambling, practically talking too much for Oscar to make any attempt at properly part-taking in the conversation. But he seems happy to eat and listen, just smiling as she rambles about her life, her brother and her thoughts on how McLaren's season is going to go.

-

Lando is not the brightest in the world, so the fact his sister and teammate are spending more and more time together as the week goes on, it's not something he notices. In fact the rest of the grid notices the two of them growing incredibly close in record time.

Oscar's face and eyes light up every time y/n is around him and it's obvious that the two have quickly grown close.

"Ok, do you want some help?" Oscar smiles patting the halo as y/n bounces a little in excitement to climb into the cockpit of Oscar car.

She's not driving it anywhere or even doing anything beyond sitting there. But she's never got to do this because Lando just never offered.

"Yeah I don't want to break anything." Y/n nods then smiling a blinding brightness when his hands fall to her waist, a place they're finding their way to more and more, before he lifts her up and into the cockpit.

"Ok, you just sit down. It might not be the most comfortable for you, since the seat is custom to me." Oscar warns while she nods shifting to sit down before she smiles. "Alright hold on."

Oscar moves, grabbing his helmet before he helps her put it on and smiles seeing her in his helmet. He can't even stop himself from capturing a few photos with the visor up to really show her smile that creases her eyes.

"What do you think?" Oscar asks making showing her the photos. "I think you really suit my helmet personally."

There's a flutter in her chest that nearly makes her melt into a puddle right there in the cockpit.

Oscar helps her back out and pulls off the helmet, and while he doesn't have the confidence to do it, y/n closes the space. Thinking "fuck it" as she finally kisses him. there's some gasps, one or two claps and one cheer of encouragement of Oscar's side of the garage seeing the action. But the two kiss and it's as perfect as y/n had been wishing for.

It's only once she's back out the car and sitting up on one of the ledges while Oscar has gone to change into his race suit that Lando appears with his engineer.

"Hey, I was wondering where you got to. What have you been doing?"

"Oh uhh...just hanging around to be honest." She shrugs innocently as if she didn't just kiss his teammate. "I'm going to get out the way though. Call mum and dad just to catch up."

-

The soft launch wasn't an surprise to anyone but Lando and when the photo dump came including the picture y/n in Oscar's car with his helmet. Lando finally connected the dots.

"Hey, what the hell? How are you doing to date my little sister and not even tell me?" Lando questions hating that he's having found this out after everyone else. Since Carlos was there when he saw the post and pointed out everyone else knew about it. "And you! You're really going to start dating my new teammate without even telling me you liked him."

Both feel guilty, but Oscar only just met the man and Lando's extroverted personality can be a little intimidating. Telling Lando was a bit of a scary thought.

Meanwhile, y/n just didn't want things to get awkward. Plus she somewhat believes she's beyond needing her brother's permission to date someone, teammate or not.

"Are you really mad or are you just annoyed you didn't know?" Y/n questions knowing her brother well enough that he's not the protective type of brother that would try to get in the way of a relationship especially that makes her as happy as she is.

"Shut up."

Clearly the latter.

"So are you alright with this?" Y/n asks knowing that Oscar probably needs the reassurance.

"Yes. But I don't want to witness disgustingly cute stuff. Keep that stuff away from me." Lando states, somewhat childishly but it's not really out of his character as a brother.

"Given we've managed that so far, I'm sure we can keep that up." Y/n laughs before moving to Oscar as she side hugs him then pausing. "Are hugs ok?"

"Yes...but the way you both light up looking at each other is making me feel more single than ever." Lando grumbles then turning. "I'm going to get a reputation as a third wheel to the two of you."

"And what a lucky man you are for that." Y/n giggles before she grins at him. "Don't think this gives you a pass to try with my friends."

"I wouldn't want to your friends are annoying." Lando shrugs going back to the bickering sibling dynamic that they usual have. "You guys are cute together...dammit. You better not break her heart, Oscar. Then I have to have beef with my own teammate and that's going to end badly."

sexy barbed wire stitching on the collar of my new (old) battle jacket

Who Had A Cookie?

Blurb: One where you're the f1 drivers manager, and when all the boys seem to have eaten a 'magic cookie' you're the one who needs to clean up all the mess.

Notes: I was inspired by the one greys anatomy episode lol but I thought this was a funny concept. This is also my first fic I’ve posted in 6 months!! I found it in my drafts and decided to post! Enjoy xx

Warnings: well mention of drugs, might be some swearing but other than that nothing lol Platonic!reader x f1 drivers and a little bit of reader x Charles leclerc

Who had the cookies?

You loved charity events, especially f1 charity events. You loved your job for giving you the opportunity to attend these events. A very easy night if you say so yourself, babysitting twenty grown men, what could go wrong? Especially when cameras and fancy investors are around they behave all on their own, leaving you to relax, and indulge in some free champagne.

“Y/n.” your name was mumbled behind you, startling you as your attention now shifted to your assistant.

You knew something was wrong by the way she was twiddling her fingers, her black nails contrast to her white dress as she brings her left index nail up to hold between her teeth.

“Jenny? Spit it out.” You stood up straight, urging your assistant.

She stands up straight as if she's trying to muster up some sort of courage, she looks around before she leans in closer to you, you can almost hear her shaky breaths.

“There were some cookies… and erm, well they were placed in the drivers dressing room, and I don’t know how they got there. I mean, I certainly didn’t sign them off so this is no way my fault and-“ she was talking a mile a minute you couldn't even understand her.

“Jenny!” You took her hands that were waving in the air and bought them back down to her chest.

“Take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong?” you said sternly. 

“Don’t fire me… please.” You could see the tears brimming in her eyes, but the anticipation was killing you, you windened your eyes and stayed quiet so she could carry on.

“There were compromised cookies gifted to the driver's dressing room.”

“And?”

“And- and now the tin is empty, as in they've all gone. The cookies have been eaten y/n. Cannabis cookies.”

Your hands ran to your mouth as your eyes immediately darted around the room to look for anything out of the ordinary.

The room was spinning as you whipped your neck around in different directions.

George russel was the first to catch your attention.

He looked fine…he was leaning against a wall, chewing…

He was chewing on a cookie.

“Oh my god.” You started to push through the crowd of people in the hall.

“George! Drop that cookie!”

George’s eyes lit up when he saw you, one of his many managers. You could see the cookie crumbs falling from his mouth as he smiled, chocolate smudged around the corners of his lips.

“Y/n, you have to try these cookies!” He desperately said, holding up his half eaten cookie. But much to his dismay you slapped it out of his hand, letting it fall right to the floor. George’s lips downturned and your name fell in a groan from his lips as he looked at his cookie on the floor.

“Spit.” You held your hand out, as gross as it was.

“I will not!” He sassed you as you pointed your finger at him, eyebrows furring trying to be as intimidating to the six foot man as possible. George sent you one of his signature smirks as he swallowed the mouthful of cookie in one large gulp.

“George, those are not regular cookies-“

“Tell me about it! Send from the heavens.” he smiled, almost robotic, like the smile didn't reach his eyes.

Your own eyes widened as you realised one of your clients was stoned.

Completely and utterly stoned.

You were fucked.

You could feel Jenny breathe behind you, she let out a small giggle at George's actions causing you to turn and scowl at her.

“Grab him and take him to the dressing room, and don’t let him talk to anyone. lock him in there and then come back to help me gather anyone else who had had a cookie.”

She nodded as she grabbed George’s arm, telling him they were going on an adventure, George happily complying.

You sighed as you looked for anyone else.

You were at a very high class charity gala in Monaco. This night was about to be ruined and you were about to be fired for letting your drivers get out of control and well, high.

You decided making an announcement on the stage was your best bet, walking through the crowds of people you felt someone grab your arm.

“Y/n!” Lando Norris. 

He giggled as he said your name. Making him repeat himself.

“Y/nnnnnn.” He covered his mouth to stop the giggles. “Sorry, just, why does your name sound so weird?”

You had to try so hard to keep your face straight at the boy's child like giggles.

“Why are you laughing like that?” Carlos walked over, playing his arm over his wobbly ex teammate.

“Carlos!” you and lando both said in unison.

“Your hair is so soft, like fur.” Lando said as his hands made their way into Carlos's long brown locks. Carlos eyes widen as he looks at the boy then back at you, trying to pull Landos hands out of his hair.

“Carlos, did you have a cookie?” You eyed up the Spaniard.

“What cookie?” He frowned at you.

“Ugh, thank god! Landos had a erm.” You leaned into him so no one around would hear, “Some of the drivers have eaten cannabis laced cookies.”

Carlos’ head turned as he looked back at Lando, eyes widening.

“Take him back to the dressing room please, just lock him in there with George, and if you see anyone else take them with you.” 

Carlos just nodded, letting his mate lean on him as he dragged him to the back of the room.

You let out a sigh of relief, that was three out of a possible twenty.

Only seventeen more to find.

You walked up to the stage, grabbing the mic, tapping it slightly.

“Hello, everyone. I hope everyone is having a good night, erm, could all formula one drivers that have eaten a cookie this afternoon please meet back in the dressing room, important meeting. Thank you.” You smiled at the crowd, you could hear the whispers as you stopped off the stage. 

“Y/n?” 

Max. 

“I had a cookie, and I don't feel too good, like - like i'm not here, i've been over there.” He pointed to the corner of the room, “and I thought I was dreaming y/n. I dont know whats happening to me?” He looked panicked as he clutched onto your upper arm.

“You're okay max, you had some magic cookies.”

“Magic cookies?”

“Just come with me okay?”

He nodded his head vigorously as he followed you though the crows, clutched to your hand like a toddler. 

You noticed Daniel on the way, opting to grab him too.

“Danny!”

“Hello.” he had, in a very nonchalant tone, unlike his bubbly self. He was definitely stoned.

“Are you okay?”

“I feel great.” he smiled, but his eyes didn't quite catch up to him.

You grabbed his arm and dragged him along with max.

“Y/n? Where are we going?” Max asked anxiously.

“To sit down.”

You dragged them both into the room, when you got in there you could see George sat curled up on the window seal, lance was sat back against the wall staring at the floor. Seb was giggling at Mick who had all of a sudden become hyper aware of his body, saying he could feel his ‘skin’.

Pierre was touching his face in the mirror while Yuki was at the snack table. 

You let out a relieved sigh as Jenny had managed to capture some of the drivers, a few turning up after hearing your announcement. 

“Okay boys go play.” You pushed Daniel and Max into the room. 

“Dan, dan, danny, daniel.” Pierre called Daniel over to the mirror. “Why don't I look like me?” Pierre asked daniel. 

Pierre gasped and turned to a very relaxed Daniel, placing his hands on his shoulders.

“Daniel, do you think I look weird?” Panicked. 

“Coolllll.” Daniel replied as he smiled straight though pierre.

“You're right, I'm too cool to care.” Pierre nodded and turned back to the mirror to straighten out his shirt.

“This room is full of some very… high men.” Seb looked at you with raised eyebrows.

“Seb? Please tell me-”

“I didn't. Don't worry. I'm watching my weight.” he winked at you. “I'm happy to look after these guys while you get the others?”

You replied a quick thank you as you quickly shut the door, bolting back into the hall. Then you realised, opening the door back open and peering through, 

Where were Lando and carlos?

You rushed back out, looking down the bottom of the hallway, choosing to search the rest of the building, you came to the fire escape stairs where you found a curled up charles rocking back and forward. 

“Charlie?” you gently called out as you crouched down next to him, placing a hand on his knee.

“Y/n?” He quietly replied. 

“It's me, it's just me. How are you feeling?” you gently asked him.

“I- i don't know, i've never felt like this before.” He said raising his head, his eyes bloodshot and skin pale, he had a cookie.

You smiled at him as you brushed his fallen hair back from his forehead.

“You're going to be alright, come with me okay?”

You pulled him up to his feet where he looked down at you, sniffing before a little smile climbed his face.

“You're so pretty y/n.” You giggled at the boy as you took his hand and made your way down the steps to the drivers room.

“Like a princess.” he added, his hands waving in the air.

“Thank you, charlie.” you giggled.

“Charlie,” he smiled, “have i ever told you how much i love it when you call me that, charlie.” he smiled and repeated the nickname again, leaning his head on your shoulder as you both made your way down the stairs.

Charles lightly sighed as you pushed him into the drivers room, “Where are you going?” Charles whispered, pulling on your arm.

“I'll be back in five minutes okay, Seb will look after you.”

Charles nodded his head to look for seb, you both grimace when you saw mick with his head in the trash can, seb rubbing his back as pierre and yuki giggle at him in the corner. 

You walked back out the room when Jenny was running up to you, “Y/n! Huge problem, Carlos and Lando are on the stage!”

Ou barge past her and walk into the room to see Carlos with a mic in his hand, Lando leaning into him in fits of laughter.

“All I'm saying is, I race really fast cars, like that's super cool, right? There's only twenty of us that do that. So cool, im so cool, im a cool guy.'' Carlos giggled as he spoke about himself on stage.

“You could die? I could die? Imagine that! The world would be so sad, my smooth operator.” Lando giggled at the nickname and then started to sing. 

And before you knew it they were two verses deep into smooth operator, Carlos opting to show off his opera skills at one point. 

You jumped on the stage taking the mic out of Carlos' hands and putting your hand over it so you could whisper shout in his ear, “You said you didn't have any cookies!”

Carlos snickered as he looked at Lando who gasped and held his hand over his mouth.

“You lied to y/n?” Lando giggled. “Oh man you're in so much trouble.” Landos face dropped as he leaned into carlos’ face, “she looks mad, we should probably run.”

Carlos nodded along with the boy when you grabbed both of their arms, “Nope. No more running, you're coming with me.”

Carlos shook his head like a caught child and both men giggled as you pushed them off the stage, apologising to the crowd before handing the mic back to the dj. 

“Y/n!”

You sighed as your name was called for about the fifth time that night, this time though, it was serious.

Zac Brown made his way over to the three of you, a scowl on his face and his arms crossed over his chest. Lando straightened his posture as Carlos crossed his arms and impersonated Zac, Lando caught onto this and all of a sudden the boys were in crying fits of laughter again. You winced as Landos cackle echoed through the hall, catching the attention of people around.

“What. The. Hell?”

“I can explain.” you winced at the man.

“What is going on here?” He eyed up his driver and ex driver, who he presumed had too much to drink.

“They're high. Someone laced some cookies and I'm so sorry, I have the situation under wraps, they won't be a problem anymore.”

But when Zac started to laugh along you realised maybe it wasn't just some of the drivers who had had some cookies.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.” You grabbed Zac as well as Lando and Carlos and dragged them back to the dressing room.

“Y/n, Your back!” Charles made his way over to you, engulfing you into a hug.

“Y/ns back!” Max screamed as he fell off the sofa, plunging his way into your arms along with charles.

“Hey get off her, she's my manager!” Max shoved Charles hand that was loosely placed on your shoulder. 

“She's mine too!”

While the two men started to fight over your attention you scanned the drivers that were in the room. Jenny had managed to catch the majority and even some of the drivers that weren't high had opted to help.

Max shoved Charles in hopes he would let go of you, instead causing you to stumble back into the arms of someone else.

“Okay okay, we get it, she's pretty but you're suffocating her, and she won't be very pretty when she's dead on the floor.” a spanish accent can be heard behind you. 

Fernando unwrapped both men as they both started to profusely apologise about ‘nearly killing you.’

You rubbed your hand over your head after smiling at Fernando in a thank you as he sent Charles and Max to the food table.

“You look stressed.” he said with a smirk as you both watched the men in the room.

“I need a cookie.” you joked, your eyes on mick who was still throwing up.

“I could always make you some.” he shrugged.

You laughed at the man before your eyes widened in realisation, you turned to him, face like thunder, “You!”

He threw his hands up in the air, “In my defence i didn't mean for anyone to eat them. It was a total accident.”

Your mouth agape you turned to look at the Spaniard ready to scream every curse word you know. He sensed your anger, “it was an honest mistake y/n, trust me. You think I would have wasted all of them cookies on these people on purpose.”

Your eyes darted daggers and Fernando understood you were really mad, in an attempt to lighten the mood he pointed at Yuki and Pierre who were having the time of their lives giggling like two school girls in the corner.

“You have to admit, it is kinda funny,” he said.

A smile crept on your face as you giggled, it was kinda funny.

Yours and Fernandos giggling soon stopped when you saw Max and Checo arguing in the corner.

“I think Max is about to punch Checo for taking the last slice of pizza.” you said.

“Shit.”

lando is carlos’ boy and oscar is lando’s boy

oscarlando literally

Can I request something with Lando and reader where she’s max’s (f) little sister and she hangs out with them a lot and she’s a little shy and has a crush on Lando so everytime he talks to her she’s blushing and stammers and he has a crush on her too and eventually they get together?

On My Mind - LN

Y/n loves her big brother. She’s adored him and almost clung to him since they were kids and he’d tell anyone any day of the week, that there is no one who is bigger fan of his. Not Kelly, not Christian, certainly not Jos.

Pictures of her support through they years make his heart swell and she is main source of why he values family so much above all else.

His protective side comes out when it comes to y/n because she’s much quieter and shy compared to him.

One particular weakness of his little sister, the fellow F1 driver, Lando Norris.

Max has never voiced the way he notices his sister getting flustered and stumbling over words when Lando is around but it definitely isn’t a secret to him that she is crushing hard on Lando. But Lando seems to believe that’s not the case and he is without a doubt misreading her.

“Hey, Max. Hello, Y/n.” Lando greets walking up to them as they head towards going to the drivers parade.

“Hi.” Y/n smiles waving her hand as that shy shield drops down over her.

Lando shoots Max a look but her older brother just smiles at him.

“How is my favourite brother-sister duo today?” Lando asks as Max reaches around to pull y/n in front of him, hands on her shoulders while her eyes widen since that’s his way of forcing her to answer.

“We’re uhh…good. Max thinks he’s going to win.” Y/n states earning a laugh from behind her.

“Yeah, I think everyone thinks he’s going to win.” Lando laughs watching her grin at him. Every time he manages to make her smile, he mentally marks a score for himself. “I hope you’re rooting for McLaren after Red Bull.”

Y/n can’t even muster the words to confirm she is definitely rooting for McLaren.

“I-I should go.” Y/n stutters turning to hug Max quickly while Max tries not to give away his amusement over her clear distress. “Good luck.”

“Do I not get a hug?” Lando jokes but out of pure impulse of not wanting to feel like she’s disappointing him, she moves over and hugs him. “Aww…must run in the family to give good hugs. Thank you.”

Y/n disappears without another word and laughs when he looks at her for a moment.

-

Seeing y/n goofing around with Max by putting on his suit and helmet, Lando can’t help but get caught up watching her. Her laughing and screaming when Max chases her a bit, it’s nice to see she’s not so tense and nervous. As she always seems to get whenever he’s around.

“Lando!” Max laughs spotting the McLaren driver which makes y/n literally true and misstep hard into, landing on the ground with a squeak and grunt. “Well…”

“Ah, ow.” Y/n groans pulling the crash helmet off.

“Here, let me help.” Lando smiles pulling her up before she has a chance to decline the offer.

“Th-Thanks.” Y/n smiles avoiding looking at him while Max picks up his helmet.

“How you doing mate?” Max asks making Lando tear his gaze from y/n and smile at his friend.

“I’m good, was just going to ask if you wanted to come play a few games of padel? We’re missing one person.” Lando states making Max decide to play wing man for both his friend and little sister.

“I have some plans with Kelly, but I know for a fact that y/n has no plans. Will you substitute me for the better Verstappen?” Max asks ignoring when y/n reaches for him, nipping his side with a sort of strength only siblings possess for each other. But he keeps a poker face and doesn’t let it show.

Thankfully, Lando has one of his brighter moments and realises what Max is doing.

“That’s great. Don’t worry, you’ll be on my team. It’s us against Ferrari.” Lando grins while y/n tries to find the words but her voice fails to form any noise in trying to get her out of this.

“When’s the game?” Max asks making Lando look back at him.

“I can swing around to grab you at 6-ish.” Lando smiles brightly before he grins at her.

“Sounds good.” Max nods while Y/n is still struggling to process what’s going on and why on earth her brother would put her forward for such a thing. “Great, she’ll be properly dressed for it.”

Max gestures to his racing suit that is currently drowning her body while she smiles nervously.

“She will see you later.” Max smiles nodding before he tugs y/n away to mentally prep her to not mess up this chance that he is making happen for her.

“I will see you.” Lando grins giving her a wink before heading off while she feels like her head explode with the burning of blood rush.

Max found no end of amusement in y/n shouting at him since behind close doors with people she knows well, she is not afraid to raise her voice.

But she got changed into a skort and t-shirt for going to the padel court.

“Lando is here, have you forgiven me enough to go out and join him for the game?” Max asks as she pouts at her brother. “I know you have a crush. I am helping you.”

“You are stressing me out.” Y/n argues while Max laughs at her. “Stop laughing!”

“You like Lando and he is a nice guy. Now can you get out and go play padel.” Max demands pointing for her to leave.

Y/n glares at her brother before doing as she’s told only because she swallows thickly. Her whole body shudders before she swallows thickly and heads out managing a smile to Lando as she walks up to him.

“Hey, ready to go?” Lando asks making her nod as he voice proves to fail her yet again. “Max had mentioned that you two sometimes team up for padel games. I didn’t know if you’d want to have a different teammate.”

“Well, Max isn’t amazing at other sports the way he is at driving.” Y/n shrugs while Lando laughs at her comment. He definitely didn’t expect her to say that. “Are you good?”

“Yeah, I’m basically champion.” Lando nods while she laughs a little. Settling a little since she doesn’t even have the option to hide behind Max, she has to build the courage from somewhere and not be a devastatingly embarrassing person. “Don’t worry, I know I’m going to walk away a winner with you.”

Y/n almost lets herself misinterupt that before shaking it off and as Lando opens the door for her.

“Thank you.” Again that eruption of a flush on her face which Lando clearly notices.

“Hey, I did not realise you meant y/n when you said Verstappen.” Carlos laughs when the two arrive at the padel court.

“Sorry, he had other plans.” Y/n smiles a little but he immediately changes his tune.

“I will have her on my team.” Charles states making her eyes widen in surprise while Lando looks ready to choke the Ferrari golden boy.

“I’ve already called dibs. It’s us against Ferrari.” Lando declares making Charles concede while Carlos sends Lando a look that y/n can’t quite read but Lando just shrugs it off. “Ready to play?”

“I’m ready.”

Admittedly to Lando’s surprise, y/n isn’t just good at padel but she clearly has carries the same gene for competitiveness that is usually overshadowed by her quiet persona. Not that she gets aggressive but the annoyed look when Charles or Carlos win a point or round speaks louder than her voice does.

But after three matches, y/n and Lando have won and he runs to her picking her up when she wins the last point.

“Proving once again, the Verstappen bloodline produces only winners.” Lando laughs while the Ferrari drivers try not to be such bitter losers over Lando and y/n winning.

Somehow y/n is not so much talked into but pulled along for lunch with Lando while Carlos and Charles announce they have other things they need to do.

“Any other sports you excel at?” Lando asks trying to make sure that she feels like he wants to hear her talk.

“Uhhh…tennis?” Y/n laughs nervously before clearing her throat a little. “I’ve really spent my life just…supporting Max.”

Lando softens a little thinking about the type of bond that Max and y/n have. He knows that Max has spoken publicly about how he hates race weekends that his little sister isn’t there, that he’s more confident with her support throughout the weekend.

“That’s quite sweet.” Lando states making a mental note to call his siblings and just check in with them. “Did you ever want to get into racing?”

“I karted, I got really into it. Max thinks if I haven’t continued we could’ve both been in F1…but I think that he’s just trying to build up my confidence about how good I was.” Y/n shrugs with a sad smile.

An idea sparks in Lando’s head but he keeps himself quiet, not wanting to scare her with it.

“I would’ve liked to see you on the grid. It’d be nice to see a woman up with us, why not two Verstappen?”

“Because siblings rivalry is dangerous enough without fast cars and competition?” Y/n jokes earning a laugh from Lando.

“Even better for racing though.”

-

Arranging it with Max took secrecy and compliance but they managed to arrange something for y/n that Lando has to admit, he’s pretty proud of making happen.

“What is this?” Y/n questions pulling off her sunglasses as Max guides her to the karting track.

“Lando wanted to invite us to be apart of his YouTube video. We’re going karting.” Max states proudly while y/n’s smile wavers breaking into a nearly fearful look. “It’s ok, it’s fine.”

“No, because last time we karted together you literally knocked me off track and out of my kart.”

“But I won’t this time. Only clean racing, I promise.” Max states then pushing her toward Lando who is standing with the Quadrant team. “She’s ready to race.”

Using the fact that y/n is too shy in front of new people, and especially Lando, to say no about karting. Y/n smiles when she’s handed a helmet that Max must’ve got to Lando ahead of time since it’s a helmet she had designed and used previously.

Being a part of the video is an unusual experience but Lando helping y/n get into her kart and make sure she feels secure in it, he doesn’t get himself ready until he’s triple checked that she’s happy.

Max is lined up beside her, but she doesn’t dare look at him knowing he’ll knock her focus.

They’ve raced each other as kids, but as adults it’s a different story.

Karts are obviously more limited than an F1 car for speed and general racing ability.

When they finally get going Max shoots ahead, but y/n has a bit of a hare and tortoise attitude. The others prove to be a bit of a hurdle but she slides past them and accidentally past her brother beginning to lead the race and not long later laps some people while Max tries to chase his sister down.

She nearly misses the chequered flag spinning around to a breaking stop which does up with her being rammed into by Max.

“Ah.” Y/n grunts from the impact then sucking in a breath and sighing to herself as she leans back in her seat and raises a middle finger to the world champion. “Sore loser.”

Not to Max’s surprise, Lando jumps at the chance to help her.

“Are you ok?” Lando asks getting her helmet off once she’s out the kart while Max stands up pulling his own helmet off. “That was amazing.”

“Told you she was good.”

“Too bad you had to punish me for it.” Y/n states earning a fake pout before Max hugs his sister.

“You should get back into it.” Max whispers making her tsk clicking her tongue.

“I second that.” Lando adds while she shoots him a small smile.

“I think I’ll stick to a supportive role.” Y/n shrugs then clearing her throat. “That was fun though. Proof that F1 drivers aren’t always the best drivers on a track.”

“Well I told you that you would be the champion if you had’ve stuck with me on the track.” Max shrugs while she rolls her eyes. Then Max nudges Lando. “You should bring her karting again, I think she enjoyed it more than she wants to admit.”

“I’m right here, Max.” Y/n murmurs as if to remind him that she can in fact hear him.

Max does decide that maybe he pushed y/n a little far out of her comfort zone and is maybe pushing her even further which isn’t going her any favours.

“We have to go, but thank you for including us.” Max smiles while Y/n looks almost sad to go. “Or…I could leave y/n here with you guys and someone drop her off later?”

“Sounds good to me.” Lando nods while y/n pauses for a moment then nodding in agreement quickly.

-

Y/n doesn’t get dropped off, instead her and Lando end up in his hotel room with her.

“I wouldn’t have thought Max would be the type of brother to trust you in the hands of another driver. He’s always seemed quite protective.” Lando comments while Y/n lies at the opposite end of the sofa to Lando.

“He’s…not as protective as people think. I think if he thinks something is making me happy, then he won’t get in the way.” Y/n shrugs while picking up some popcorn that they had ordered in room service.

“I think he’s playing wingman to both of us.” Lando comments while she digs herself down as if to try and hide herself. “No…there’s no hiding this time. I’m not hiding anything. If you’ll let me take you on dates and spend nights with you, then I want to do that.”

Lando says it exactly how it is. Complete transparency.

“That sounds good to me.” Y/n nods before he offers her hand that she takes allowing him to pull her over on top of him chest to chest while her face burns hot enough to it radiate off of her.

“Don’t get shy again on me now.” Lando grins before kissing her softly, an action that makes her melt down against him. “I think since I have Max’s permission we’re ok to go ahead.”