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mrspiastri · 25 days ago

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✩ angel baby ?? 👼

pairing: lando norris x reader

cw: fluff, a little bit more fluff, tiny bit angsty nothing tooo bad

wc: 2.9k words

an: IM BACK BITCHES, based on this req!

When this debate had started, you could not remember, but now you were trying your best to not show how red your face looked as you laughed along with the rest of the table.

It was a regular post-race dinner, and Carlos was talking about how he couldn’t think of dating a fan of his.

“I just don’t think I could. I mean, what if they only like me for the fame, you know?”

You didn’t think much of it until your own boyfriend chimed in.

“Me too; it would weird me out, y’know?”

Now, you should have probably mentioned this to Lando at some point during the beginning of your relationship. But to be fair, he never asked, and you’d also only been dating for 8 months—so is it really such a crime to have not told him? You’d never found the chance to tell him you were a major fan of his prior to you meeting.

Of course, you recognised him when you first met—which was at a dinner party hosted in his honour for the company you worked at, who happened to be one of McLaren’s sponsors.

You internally tried your best to not lose your mind when you saw him, choosing to hide with your colleagues as they teased you for how worked up you seemed.

But what you hadn’t expected was for him to walk over to you with two flutes of champagne and then spend the entire night in conversation, with him even sneaking out early with you to get gelato and walk you home.

Ever the gentleman, he made sure to get you home safe and even waited till you reached your apartment—but not before getting your number and a promise that you’d meet him for lunch the next day.

You didn’t sleep a wink that night, too overwhelmed at the idea of going out to lunch with maybe your favourite male celebrity. And if there was a mini helmet of his from Silverstone 2024 on your bedside table, that was nobody’s business but your own.

Okay, maybe you weren’t a psycho stalker fangirl or whatever, but you did know your way around the fandom. You could list all his wins in chronological order, his podiums at each circuit, and could claim to be an owner of at least 4 (!) ln4 hoodies.

You never really admitted you used to be a fan because it was plainly embarrassing. Not to mention, it wasn’t like you actively hid it; you just didn’t care enough to remember.

Now, however, with him talking about not dating a fan, you couldn’t help but sip your wine a bit nervously as you nodded along. It was safe to say you and Lando were still in the honeymoon phase of your relationship, but honestly neither of you ever thought it would stop.

To say you were enamoured by each other was an understatement, especially with the man completely wrapped around your finger—you could ask him for the world, and he’d show up with it and the stars too.

But with this new revelation, you weren’t sure how to really bring up the topic.

🪻🪻🪻

The next morning, after Lando woke you up to the scent of eggs frying and coffee being brewed, you decided to bring your line of questioning forward. He placed your plate in front of you along with your morning latte, and in that moment you tried to bring up last night’s conversation as nonchalantly as possible.

“So, last night was kind of silly, huh?’

“Whaddya mean?” He replied through a mouthful of toast.

"You know, the whole 'I’d never date a fan' thing you and Carlos were talking about. ” You took a sip as you tried to not make eye contact.

“How was that silly?”

“Like, it’s a bit childish, no? What’s wrong with being with a fan?”

“It’s just weird; like, how do I know you’re not with me because of the fame and all that?” Lando argued.

You didn’t have a response to that without sounding weird for arguing over the subject, so you let it go.

Lando, however, didn’t.

He didn’t think much of it at first. He had just shrugged and continued eating, too focused on trying not to burn his tongue on the eggs he insisted on making for you every Saturday morning.

He found it kind of funny at first. The way you suddenly seemed defensive over the topic. He didn’t think too much of it in the moment, but after he kissed your cheek and cleared your plate, he caught himself thinking about it again as he stood at the sink, running water over your empty mug.

But later, while you were out on the balcony, curled up with your laptop and replying to emails, Lando stood in the kitchen drying a mug and thinking about what you’d said.

He played the memory back in his head more times than he’d admit, narrowing in on the way you fidgeted with your coffee spoon, how you didn’t meet his eyes. He didn’t like it when you looked unsure, especially not around him.

Still, life carried on. He flew off to another race weekend while you stayed back to finish a big work presentation, and your FaceTime calls stayed as sappy and full of inside jokes as ever. If anything, he only missed you more.

He didn’t bring up the fan thing again, not when he had you smiling sleepily at him over a video call at 1 am, wrapped in your fluffy robe with your hair still damp from a shower.

He didn’t even think about it when you sent him a care package to his hotel, with snacks and vitamins and a small note that said “you got this, superstar.” He even found himself re-reading that note like a lovesick idiot while sitting in the team garage between sessions.

You, on the other hand, were doing your absolute best not to spiral. The guilt wasn’t huge, but it was persistent, like a little pebble in your shoe. You’d been such a fan, not just a casual “oh yeah, he’s a good driver” kind of fan.

You were active on Twitter, defending him to the death, posting edits of him and liking every one of his photos that came on your timeline.

But you’d changed; that version of you had been real, but so was this one. The same girl who had Lando's toothbrush in her bathroom and who knew exactly how he liked his tea. You weren’t faking anything.

Still, something about admitting the truth just felt risky. What if he took it the wrong way? What if he thought the whole relationship was some long game, like you’d schemed your way into his life?

So you didn’t tell him. And time passed.

You watched more races, cheered from the sidelines or from the hotel room, always with your heart in your throat. You memorised his travel schedule better than your own. You kissed him good luck in the mornings and held him close at night when he was too tired to speak. And Lando just fell harder.

Every time he saw you waiting for him in the paddock, holding out your arms for a hug and smiling like he was the only one in the world, he swore he’d never get used to it. He was so gone for you.

🪻🪻🪻

“Don’t you get bored of me always talking about racing?” Lando questioned you as you shared a bowl of popcorn while watching some of his racing clips. He liked doing that sometimes; it was a way for him to check his mistakes while also being able to observe his victories.

“If I were bored of racing, I don’t think I’d be in a relationship with a racing driver, now would I?” You quipped, flicking his forehead affectionately.

He simply smiled at you, one of his signature cheesy grins, as he laid his head down on your lap.

You softly brushed your fingers through his curls, at the risk of him whining about you messing with the products he spent 20 minutes applying this morning.

The two of you were fixated on the screen, your eyes concentrated on his car zooming down the straights.

“Wait, which race are we watching again?” He questioned as he reached for the remote.

“Monaco 2022”. You replied deftly, popping a few kernels into your mouth.

Lando had a slightly amused look on his face, not expecting you to be so engrossed, but happy nonetheless.

“God, this one still makes me nervous,” you muttered, watching a particularly intense on-track battle.

Lando looked over at you, eyebrows raised. “Still?”

You froze. “I mean, it was a good race. Real classic, y’know?”

“You watched this live?”

You tried to smile casually. “Sure. With some friends.”

His eyes narrowed just a bit, suspicious but intrigued. “Wait, how do you even remember this overtake?”

You shrugged. “I guess I was into racing.”

“You were a fan.” He said it slowly, like the idea was just now clicking into place. “Of me.”

You didn’t say anything. Just pulled the blanket up higher and stared at the screen, hoping he’d move on. But he turned to face you fully, grinning now.

“No way. Wait, no. You were. That’s why you brought it up over breakfast months ago. You were embarrassed.”

“I wasn’t,” you mumbled, cheeks heating up. “I just didn’t think it was relevant.”

“You little liar!”

“I’m not!”

“Then why did you hide it?”

You shook your head, but the words were already rising in your throat. “I didn’t tell you because—I was scared.”

He frowned, tilting his head. “Scared of what?”

You played with the edge of the blanket between your fingers, not looking at him. “That you’d think I was with you for the wrong reasons. That I was just some fan trying to get her five minutes of attention or—or chasing after your money or your name or the whole WAG circus. I didn’t want you to look at me and wonder if it was all fake.”

Lando was quiet for a moment.

You could feel your heart in your ears.

“I know it sounds stupid,” you continued quickly, cheeks hot. “But you said you couldn’t date a fan, and it just stuck with me. I didn’t want to risk it. Things were too good. You were too good. I didn’t want to lose you over something so embarrassing.”

“You really thought I’d leave you over that?”

You tried to smile, but it faltered. “I just didn’t want you to think I was one of those people.”

Lando let out a breath, shaking his head. “God, you think so little of me.”

The words hit you like a slap, but before you could say anything, he reached for you. Gently, he pulled you over and settled you into his lap, your legs straddling his thighs as he held you close. His arms wrapped tight around your waist, like he needed to anchor you to him.

“Listen to me,” he said, voice steady now, no trace of laughter left. “I don’t care if you used to have posters of me on your wall. I don’t care if you knew all my stats or made edits or wrote fanfiction; for all I know. None of that matters. Youmatter. What we have now matters.”

You didn’t trust your voice, so you stayed quiet.

“I know you,” he whispered, fingertips tracing soft circles against your back. “You don’t care about the spotlight. You hate the cameras. You’ve never once bragged about us on social media or cared about being seen. You’re not here for the parties or the designer tags or the lifestyle. You’re here for me. And I see that every day.”

Your hands slid up to his jaw, your thumb brushing over the small scar on the bridge of his nose. He looked so serious, so impossibly sincere, it made your chest ache.

“I didn’t mean to lie,” you said softly. “I just didn’t want to ruin anything.”

He was still holding you, still cradling you in his lap like you were made of glass and something he’d never let slip through his fingers again. His hands were warm against your back, one resting at the base of your spine and the other slowly running up and down the curve of your side like he needed to remind himself you were real.

“I mean it,” he said again, voice low and sure, brushing his nose against yours. “I don’t care if you knew every stat I ever had. I don’t care if you had a shrine of mini helmets or screamed every time I got on the podium. You could’ve painted your walls neon yellow, and I’d still think you’re the most genuine person I’ve ever met.”

Your heart squeezed. “I didn’t paint my walls, but I did have a sticker on my laptop.”

He let out a soft laugh, eyes lighting up, but it was full of love now; that kind of warm, weightless love that made your skin feel sun-kissed even in the dim light of the living room.

“You’re ridiculous,” he whispered, and then leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours.

“And you’re in love with someone who once told off a stranger on Twitter for calling you overrated,” you whispered back.

“I am so in love with her,” he said with a grin that made your stomach flip.

Then he kissed you.

Slow at first, like he had all the time in the world, his lips brushing over yours in a way that made your heart stutter and your breath catch. He kissed you like it was something he hadn’t done in a while, like he was rediscovering you. His thumb traced your cheek, his hand sliding into your hair, holding you close without crowding you.

You kissed him back with everything you had.

All the fear you’d carried, all the silly embarrassment, melted into the way he tasted—a little like the popcorn he’d eaten earlier, a little like the mints he always kept in his pocket. It was soft and familiar and brand new all at once.

He pulled back only slightly, his nose brushing yours again. “You’re mine, yeah?”

You nodded, eyes a little glossy, mouth still tingling. “Always.”

And then he kissed you again, deeper this time. His hand slid up your back, pulling you closer, like even this much space between you was too much. You could feel the way he smiled into it, could feel the quiet little sigh he let out like he’d finally exhaled after holding his breath for months.

You curled your fingers in his hair and kissed him harder, laughing softly against his mouth when he let out a quiet, dazed ‘fuck’ under his breath.

All was well, until—

“Wait, you were on Twitter?”

“…Maybe,” you mumbled.

His eyes lit up. “Oh my god. You did. You tweeted about me. Find them. Show me.”

“I’m not showing you anything.”

Lando was already rolling off the couch and grabbing your phone. “C'mon. You have to. Please. I’ll never ask you for anything else in my life.”

“Maybe”, you mumbled.

His eyes lit up. “Oh my god. You did. You tweeted about me. Find them. Show me.”

“I’m not showing you anything.”

Lando was already rolling off the couch and grabbing your phone. “C'mon, you have to! Please. I’ll never ask you for anything else in my life.”

“That’s a lie, and you know it.”

“Okay, but this time I’m serious.”

Sighing dramatically, but secretly already giggling to yourself, you reached for your own phone. You opened the app and scrolled for a moment before finding it. The long-forgotten fan account: locked, dusty, and inactive for over two years.

You held it out wordlessly.

Lando took it, eager.

And then immediately burst into laughter.

“@ln4everangelbaby?! Are you kidding me?”

You snatched it back. “I was seventeen when I made that, Lando.”

He was already breathless, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “No, wait. I need a minute. Angel baby? What was that even supposed to mean?”

You covered your face with your hands. “You had these really cute photo from your debut year, and someone called you that on Tumblr, and I thought it was cute, okay?”

“Oh my god.” He leaned back, shaking with laughter. “This is better than I could have ever imagined.”

He tried to scroll, but the account was locked, and you weren’t about to log in and let him dig through the archives of your cringe era.

“Let me read some tweets,” he begged, tugging at your sleeve like a child.

“Absolutely not.”

“I’ll buy you dinner every night forever.”

“You already do that anyway.”

“I’ll take you to the Maldives for a week.”

“You’re kidding.”

But his face remained unmoved, completely serious.

“Make it two weeks.”

He hesitated. “Ten days.”

“Twelve.”

“Deal.”

You unlocked the account with the kind of grim resolve one might have before jumping into shark-infested waters and handed it back.

He kept reading out tweets in dramatic fashion, doing voices, quoting your old replies to trolls, and fake-crying when he got to a heartfelt race reaction.

You just curled up smaller and smaller on the couch, your face buried in a pillow while Lando had the time of his life dragging you, groaning occasionally at particular posts you didn’t even remember making.

When he finally calmed down, he tossed the phone gently onto the coffee table and pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I think this might be my favourite thing about you.”

You blinked up at him, confused. “My terrible teenage Twitter?”

He smiled. “No. That you loved me then, even when I was just some kid in a fast car. And you love me now, even when I’m an idiot who makes fun of your old username.”

“You really can’t let that go, can you?”

“Angel baby,” he whispered, laughing again, and you groaned and buried your face into his chest as he wrapped his arms tighter around you.

DID U GUYS MISS ME (the only answer is yes) i missed writing so much im so happy i could put this out :DD enjoy! and im so sorry it’s so short i just am so drained with my first sem in college ! :(

#lando norris x you #lando norris requests #lando norris drabble #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fic #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando x reader #lando x y/n #f1 fluff #f1 requests #f1 x reader #f1 driver x you #f1 driver x reader

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