janettheblackcat

[janettheblackcat]

can’t believe we’re getting dj lando content to start off 2024 [source]

[janettheblackcat]

[janettheblackcat]

[janettheblackcat]

Source: Elvira: Mistress of The Dark [1988]

[janettheblackcat]

The Cat | Lando Norris x OC

Summary: After another great race weekend, Norris is summoned to meet up with Fritzi after her dj set in Monaco; With the help of Max and Oscar, they all come together to discuss the evidence she found, and start to piece together what happened to him that night at Le Carmen.

Word Count: ~1.5k

Pairing: party boy lando x dj!female oc

Warnings: +18, suggestive content, adult content, adult language, implied drug abuse, implied date rape drugging, implied roofies, fluff, slow burn, sexual tension, mention of latex

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Chapter 4 (Chapter 3 | Masterlist)

After a laborious race week in Spain, the papaya team came out victorious—a swift McLaren 1-2 with Oscar on pole position. Lando all but forgot about his feline friend—he spent the rest of his time in Barcelona training, record breaking, and winning since they last spoke. After rigorous media coverage and post-race weigh ins, the second place finisher finally got a chance to reach for his phone.

I’ll b djing a set at jimmy’z tonight. staying in monaco for a day or two. Glückwunsch

The world stood still when he saw her message. She’s in Monaco, staying there, awaiting his return. Someone tapping him on the chest unplugged him from the screen. “Cooldown time,” George Russell, who clutched 3rd overall, beckoned him along.

In the cooldown room, Oscar noticed the very limited, branded responses his teammate was giving towards the replay on the television. “Everything alright, mate?” George looked over, showing his own concern. Weary of the cameras around them, Lando gave Oscar his phone. After reading the message Fritzi wrote, he handed the phone over to George. “You should ask Max to use his jet, you’d be able to make it there by tonight.” “I don’t want to go alone.” “I’ll come with you,” Oscar reassured his teammate. Lando nodded as they continued to watch the race, feigning concern for the other teams who didn’t do as well.

Max, Oscar, and Lando all got ready separately and decided to fly home to Monaco on Max’s private jet as soon as they were allowed to leave the paddock. “I can’t believe we get to meet the famous cat lady!” Oscar elbowed Max, showing his agreement in his own unabashed excitement. “Think she’ll be all kittened out?”

“Not sure. It’s Monaco.”

“Did she say what kind of music she’s playing?”

“Nope. Just that she’s doing a set there tonight.”

“Do you even know what time she’s going on?” Norris shook his head. Max and Oscar collectively rolled their eyes. “What do you know about this girl?” Lando looked up from his hand, where he was caressing the little piece of music paper he kept from her. “Not a thing. I don’t think I really know her at all.”

At Jimmy’z, they strolled in with a couple heys and daps directed towards the guards and owners. The three racing drivers surveyed the floor looking for a black cat—a sleek, shiny human creature. “We’ll split up and look for her,” Max yelled in Lando’s ear. He nodded as Oscar and Max patted him on the shoulder and walked away. Waltzing through the club, he scanned the floor, his eyes roamed up and down the place, and right behind the booth—there! Her hair, unconfined by the braids he remembered her in, flowed in a mess of beautiful curls, some loose and clinging to her forehead, a testament to her hard work and smooth transitions. Her face was concentrated—eyes shifting from one deck to the other, as people danced and screamed all around her. “Is that—“ Startling Lando, Max placed his arm around his neck and pointed to the stage. Lando, in an almost catatonic state, started to walk over to the dj booth. Oscar stepped in front of his best friend. “Lando, you’ve already got her in trouble behind you the other day! We’ll meet up with her when she’s done.” Lando looked up in the nick of time; Fritzi, after she caught his eye, tilted her head to the side—the same way she did when they first met.

“You came!” Lando whipped his head around to see Fritzi, her smile wide and her body soaked in her own sweat. She wasn’t dress in latex at all—rather, she was dressed in an elegant, funky outfit; an open white blouse covered up by a backwards camouflage corset, paired with 70s style jeans and boots that made her appear taller than the driver. “You told me you’d be here!” She rolled her eyes. “Did you like the set?”

“I thought you didn’t do house music.”

“I play whatever the club pays me to play. I’m a dj after all. Techno is just my specialty, my personal expertise.”

“It was a good set. Pretty slow for you.”

“Yeah, I’m used to everything being over 140. But adapting and understanding your crowd is what separates a good dj from a great one.”

“Right, right,” Lando nodded and watched her face. She side eyed the other two drivers, waiting to be introduced. “Right, sorry! This is—“

“I’m Max,” Max interjected. “This is Oscar.” Oscar held his hand up. “I’m Fritzi! Freut Mich!” They all stood around the loud bar, awkwardly looking at one another. “Would you like to step outside?” Lando nodded and led the way, while his two mates followed them to an outdoor area.

Outside, there was a crisp, cool breeze, and the lights of the Monte Carlo nightlife were twinkling under the moon’s bright glow. They sat at the furthest end of the outside lounge tables, away from where couples were fondling each other and drunkards were slurring at their own respective friends. “I saw who roofied you on the camera the night you left for Spain. I didn’t want to send it to you just in case someone on your team had your phone while you were racing—I wanted to show you myself.” She opened her phone, and settled on a video. She handed the phone to the driver who, with the extra eyes of his two friends leaning in, watched the events unfold on her screen; Lando, already in a drunken state, was drugged by the two women who led him onto the main floor earlier that night, after he locked eyes with Fritzi. On the tape, you could see him start to tongue both women in a three way kiss as one of them slipped a little vial of powder past him and into his already mixed drink. “That’s another reason why I wanted to show you in person. I didn’t want the possibility of this video getting leaked or seen—I didn’t want to paint you in a bad light.” “Oh, he’s already painting himself in a bad light—“

“Oscar, don’t—“

“Look at that! Look at yourself! You’re all alone, not one other driver there, no security, and you mack on the nearest girls you saw who’d probably only seen your face on a screen somewhere! Poor, little rich race car driver! It’s sad—“

“HEY!” Fritzi stopped them both. “Cut that shit out!” Fritzi stroked Lando’s arm and turned him toward her, their gazes softened on one another; the other two drivers looked at each other in acknowledgment and looked back at the pair. “Did you get their names, numbers, anything?” Lando shook his head. “And you paid for the drinks?” He nodded. She held her face in her hands. “I’ll keep investigating when I get back. I’ll look for clearer footage of them earlier in the night, try and catch their faces.” Lando nodded, looking at the floor. “Hey,” she cupped his chin with her index finger and lifted his head. “It’s okay. You don’t owe me any explanation for what happened. Whatever you wanted to do with those girls, drunk or sober, doesn’t make what they did to you right. You’re still a victim, whether you wanted to fuck them or not. They drugged you, Lando. What you do with your dick is nobody’s business but your own. I’m just trying to help you.” Fritzi locked eyes with Lando; when she had his full attention, she held the phone up by her face, in view of the driver, and deleted the video from her phone. “How it happened will stay between us. I already know where I can get a copy of it in case of a court order. But, to prove my allegiance to you, I wanted you to know that I won’t keep this video for blackmail or anything like that—I wanted you to see me get rid of it. I just wanted to show it to you, to prove to you that I didn’t do it. And I promise you, I will find the girls who did.” She stood up and pulled him up by his fingers, holding him in a soft embrace. “I’m going to a record store in Nice tomorrow. If you’d like, we can meet for lunch afterwards—get to know each other more now that I’m not a suspect anymore.” “I never suspected you.” She stared into space in his eyes while he cradled her in his arms. “Thank you. That means a lot to me. I’ll keep in touch. Goodnight, boys.” She pulled away, brought out a pair of cat eye sunglasses that was stashed in the back pocket of her bell bottom jeans, and walked off until she faded into the darkness. “Okay. Now I see the appeal.” Lando shoved Max jokingly, leading his two friends back into the club to enjoy the rest of their night together.

[janettheblackcat]

MICHÈLE MOUTON before the 1983 Audi Sport National Rally

MOTORSPORTS GIFCTOBER Week 3: No F1 Allowed

[janettheblackcat]

[janettheblackcat]

i 🤍 the rave

[janettheblackcat]

The Cat | Lando Norris x OC

Summary: Lando gets back to work after departing from his adventure in Paris—his bosses hound him, his friends question him—all the while Fritzi starts an investigation on his date rape drugging. As the pair begins to get closer through all of this, the people around him start to make him even more suspicious of what happened to him, as he hopes to get real answers soon on more than just that night.

Word Count: ~1.3k

Pairing: lando norris x dj!female oc

Warnings: +18, suggestive content, adult content, adult language, implied drug abuse, implied date rape drugging, implied roofies, fluff, slow burn, sexual tension, mention of bd/sm, mention of petplay, mention of latex

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Chapter 3 (Chapter 2 | Masterlist)

The rest of the day went by in a blur for Lando—from the Monte Carlo station to his Ferrari, from his Monaco home to the private jet; the only thing on his mind was the little piece of paper his stashed in his pocket that he rubbed between his fingers on the plan ride to Barcelona. Jon, Lando’s trainer, snapped his fingers by his ear, releasing him from his trance. “You doing alright, mate?” Lando nodded instinctively. “What happened to you in Paris?” The pieces of that night were just beginning to fit together like an intricate puzzle, a day later. The only thing he could remember clearly was her. “We think someone tried to roofie me, so I crashed at my friend’s place—“

Zak strolled in from another part of the plane. “Oh, who? This friend?” He slammed his phone against the conference table—a photo of Lando and Fritzi walking along the Parisian streets, hand in hand, were displayed bright as day underneath a scandalous headline: Lando Norris, McLaren Formula One driver, caught walking with a new mystery lady to the Haussmann–Saint-Lazare station in Paris, France. Lando slowly shuts his eyes. Paparazzi, he thought. Paparazzi are everywhere. “And how do we know it wasn’t her that—“

“It wasn’t her, she took care of me!”

“Is that right? She took care of you?” Lando looked around at his team. Oscar angled his eyes away from the drama. Zak, with steam coming from his ears, sighed and hugged his driver. “I’m just glad you’re alive. But, whatever happened to you, whatever she has to do with it, fix it. Or we’ll have to intervene.” Lando patted Zak on his gut and sat back down. Walking past Zak, Lando’s teammate sat across from him and placed his hands on the table. “Did something really bad happen to you, Lan? You can tell me.” Lando’s eyes soften on his mate. “It’s all just fuzzy, you know—one second I’m walking around Paris, then I come across this club and this girl cat thing is in front of me, next thing I know I’m waking up in her bed studio place…” Lando looked up at Oscar, who’s confusion was written in his eyebrows. “You know what, Oscar? It’s alright. I already have a team handling it.”

“And by team, do you mean—“

“Yes, her.”

Oscar pursed his lips and nodded. Lando placed his headphones around his ears and replayed the past 24 hours in his head.

When they land in Spain, the creamy sunset was shifting under the moon’s subtle glow. They get picked up and taken to Hotel Arts, where most of the teams and drivers have already began to settle in for the upcoming Spanish Grand Prix. Lando accepted his key from Andrea, his team principal. “Please, no clubbing tonight.” Lando threw his hands up before collecting his luggage and walking towards the elevator. Heading towards the penthouse floor, he contemplated calling the number on the little sheet he had been clenching in his fist since she handed it to him. Off the elevator, as soon as he reached his room, the tired racing driver dove headfirst onto the soft bedding.

“Here goes nothing…” He whispered to himself as he reached for his phone. On the third ring, he heard a familiar voice. “Hello? Is this Lando?” He smiled to himself. “Waiting for me to call?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I was waiting all day to call you. Where are you right now?”

“I’m at home, getting ready for work.”

“I thought you said your new mix wasn’t—“

“I’m just dancing tonight. Plus, I needed an excuse to scope the area, look at the cameras, ask around, you know.” Lando shook his head in agreeableness. “Be careful out there.” “You too. Enjoy your race week. Don’t let what happened to you cloud your mind; focus. Win.” He chuckled at Fritzi’s evergrowing commanding nature over him.

A knock on the outside of his hotel room door started to pull him away from the call. “Someone’s at the door. I gotta…” “Go, I know. We’ll talk again soon when I have more intel.” They stayed on the line, lingering silently for a second. Another knock pulled them back into reality. “I’ll call you again, I swear it. Goodnight, Lando.” She hung up first.

Opening the room door, some of his best mates were standing in the frame, waiting to be let in—Max, Oscar, and Carlos. They bum rush past Norris to sit on his bed and couch, ordering room service and having their own side conversations. “So, mate, I heard you had a grand time in Paris,” Max chimed in. The room fell silent. “The girl. From the photos. You were on the phone with her, weren’t you?” Lando blushed. “She’s going back to the club, getting some information for me.” Max walked up to Lando, handing him a bottle of water. “I’m sorry about last night. I just wanted to push you into doing something different; I had no idea someone would try to drug you, man.” He hugged Max tightly. “You’re alright, mate.”

The men all looked down at the floor in shock after Lando, due to their incessant pestering, finally told them everything he remembered about what happened to him over the past two days. “So, what, is she like a furry?” Carlos and Oscar darted their eyes to the driver. “No, it’s different somehow,” Lando waved his hand dismissively. Max walked over and next to Carlos, snickering the whole way down. “Oh yeah, she’s definitely from Germany, mate. They have whole fetish conventions up there. Plus they’re known for their techno; I only know that because I knew a German dj who stayed in Rotterdam,” the Dutchman recalled. “Do you like her,” Carlos smirked. A light grin grew around his former teammate’s face. “I don’t know. I don’t know her. But she didn’t steal from me, and she kept me alive. I don’t know anyone in my position who wouldn’t like a girl like that.” Oscar clasped his hands on Lando’s shoulders. “And she’s also a hot German latex fetish cat woman techno dj person.” They all nodded in unison.

After telling his boys goodnight, and walking them out of his penthouse suite, Lando’s phone began to ring. It was her. “Is everything okay?” “Yes, how are you?” His lips curled while he reached for his suitcase. “I’m good, heading in for the night. And you?” “I’m on my way to the club, thought I’d say goodnight again.”

“Missed me?”

“Ja. I told you I was going to call you again. Plus, I always call my friends when I miss them.”

“Are we friends now, is that it?”

“Are we enemies?” Lando shook his head and sucked his teeth. “I’m going to take a shower now, Frau.” The air shifted with her silence. “Don’t call me that, Mr Norris, if you aren’t prepared to mean it.” The driver gulped. “Just let me know what you find out, yeah?” “Viel Glück.”

Crawling into bed, all he could see were glimpses of her. A stray cat in the nightlife. He wondered if she was doing this because she wanted something from him. He imagined a world where she asked for nothing in return. His heart got heavy at the thought of her using this against him. His eyes began to grow heavy, when his phone eliminated in his eyes.

Got the evidence. I will see u when u come back to Monaco. I’ll be waiting for u

Lando exhaled and laid back, putting everything about her in the back of his mind—just until he got back home—and fell peacefully to sleep, awaiting rest of the week that lied ahead of him.

[janettheblackcat]

David Cronenberg in behind the scenes photos from Crash (1996)

[janettheblackcat]

Black Cat Scratches Record on the Turntable Like a DJ

[janettheblackcat]

The Cat | Lando Norris x OC : The Masterlist

Author’s Note: meow everyone! i’d like to thank those of you who have been enjoying the story so far! if it continues to garner more attention, i think i’d like to make a small community of readers who’d like to get to know me and my thought process on how i write things out—maybe give early updates on where the plot goes, send paragraphs for new chapters before i post them, send updates on my personal life, even just to meet like minded f1 fans like myself! i’m very grateful that so many of you are listening to what i have to say!

- ja’net

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Author’s Note: purr! a new chapter has been released today for those of you who are keeping up with Lando and his new dj friend, Fritzi! i will be working on how to make a good tumblr community so that way i can start inviting those who’d like to join! thank you again for all of your support.

- ja’net

Chapter 3

Author’s Note: my community has been created! i have already sent links to some of you who’s accounts i have seen repeatedly liking my chapters, and i will be putting the link to my community here! chapter 4 will be released sometime in the next couple days—i’m working out how i want the story to continue from here! i didn’t even know many people would enjoy the first chapter, being the topics that i write about are undoubtedly obscure, so i didn’t really have a strict plan on making more going into it. so, thank you all for your patience, and when the community has enough members, i will do a face reveal and get to know me post!

- ja’net

Ja’Net and the Flying Felines: The Community

Author’s Note: i know it’s late but i couldn’t resist! puurrrrr! chapter 4 of the cat is now live! i hope you all have been enjoying the story so far! if you’re becoming a fan and would like to get to know the woman behind the cat, once i garner enough people to join in my new community on tumblr, i will be doing a face reveal + post in there! since i have been churning out chapters this week, i’ll be taking a slight cat nap and will resume after the miami grand prix! let’s go papaya! ♡

- ja’net

Chapter 4

[janettheblackcat]

The Cat | Lando Norris x OC

Summary: After waking up in a mysterious, run down Paris flat, Lando Norris is forced to get to know the dj he spent all night chasing—finding out who she is, wondering what happened to him and why, trying to plan his way back to Monaco, and searching for his belongings (including his helmet.)

Word Count: 1.3k

Pairing: lando norris x dj!female oc

Warnings: +18, suggestive content, adult content, adult language, implied drug abuse, implied date rape drugging, implied roofies, fluff, slow burn, sexual tension, mention of bd/sm, mention of petplay, mention of latex

𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°

Chapter 2 (Chapter 1)

Norris, rather disoriented, was awoken by sounds of out of sync mixing and frustrated groans. “Sorry, Simon. This next set won’t be ready for this weekend. I’ll just have to take the weekend off—“ Lando proceeded to look up at a collection of curly braids in a low bun, the headphones atop of her head were pulled back off of her right ear, as she continued to pet a little black cat and converse with someone on the other end of her lilac cellphone. “No, he’s still unconscious as far as I know. I gave him the bed, yeah. I didn’t know who to get in touch with, I don’t know anyone in Monaco who’d know him.” The rustling of the bedsheets brought the woman’s attention towards him. She was beautiful—golden skin and full eyebrows, her lips pouted, her eyes were commanding yet unforgettable—the race car driver immediately knew it was the dj from the night before, only dressed in a white turtleneck and white satin maxi skirt. “Gotta go.” She immediately hung up the phone, set aside her earphones, and walked over to him. “Good morning—“

“Who are you?”

“I’m Fritzi. I work at Le Carmen.”

Fritzi, he pondered. “What happened to me last night?”

“I’m not too sure, but I think you were roofied—“

“What—“

“Like someone put something in your drink and tried to—“

“I know what roofie means!” Lando shot up and started to survey the flat with his eyes, still without complete balance. “Please…” she guided her hand up his bicep and helped him sit in a nearby gaming chair. “Relax. I will help you get back to the station. Coffee?” She smiled gently at him. Suspiciously unsuspecting of her, he agreed. She stood awkwardly before walking out of the bedroom.

He rolled the chair he was placed in behind her setup—two pioneer cdjs and one 2-channel mixer. He began to scroll through her rekordbox before she lightly tapped his hand. “Don’t go touching stuff! I was practicing before you interrupted me!” He looked up at her and slyly removed the mug from her hand. “Your name, it’s German.” Fritzi smiled to herself. “Yes, it is. I’m from Heidelberg! I studied techno djing and production in Berlin before moving to Paris after making a name for myself working at Berghain—that’s how I got my residency here at Le Carmen.” He sipped his hot coffee and proceeded to stare into her eyes. “You made a name for yourself dressing like a cat?”

“Well, yes. I am from Germany. There is a whole community there full of rubberists just like me, so I adapted my personal persona to connect with the people; besides, I do wear it for my own satisfactions.”

“So, are you like a furry?”

“No!” She laughed wryly. “Petplay and furryism are two different things. I’m merely a rubber doll who enjoys dressing up like a kitten.” Lando began to nod empathetically before shaking his head, catching glimpses of his memories of last night. “My helmet!” Before he could stand up, Fritzi laid a gentle hand on his chest. “Hey, I have all of your stuff, okay? It’s in the living room. I stayed up all night in there and watched the door, just in case someone followed us.”

While watching her walk away, his eyes wandered all across her room. Records, in many languages and genres, were scattered across the floor. Her bed was just a singular mattress on the ground, with white sheets and pillowcases. Her desk, alongside her music equipment, was where her pet cat laid asleep—pure black with white tuffs on his head and chin—and all of his cat toys and beds covered the little floor space she had left. The view from the small window showed the Eiffel Tower, dull against the morning sky. “Here!” He turned away from the window to see her plop his purple helmet, and other possessions, onto the bed. “Your phone was ringing in there. Sorry I couldn’t hear it over the mixing. Sennheiser.” She points to her headphones.

Looking through his phone, Lando received countless calls and texts. Max. Oscar. Lewis. Zak! He dialed up his boss, only to have him answer a second later. “Lando Norris, where the hell are you?! Why the fuck have I been hearing from the other drivers that you ran away to Paris for some bet—“

“I’m leaving now. I’ll be in Monaco in a couple hours. I’m alright.” The silence across the line was deafening, only leaving the static behind. “You are one of my only two drivers, Norris. The partying you do, these stunts you pull—it’s not easy on us here. You could’ve gotten robbed or killed! You’re not James bloody Hunt!” Lando slightly brought the phone away from his ear, grimacing at Brown’s anger, and placed it back. “Get home. Get packed. Get showered and dressed! We’ll be picking you up and getting you on the next plane to Spain. The calendar doesn’t wait for any driver, no matter how famous they are.” The line cuts, and he exhales. He looked to Fritzi, who’d been putting on her shoes and messenger bag, preparing to walk him to the train station. “The walk is only a couple blocks from here.” She grabbed her wired apple earbuds and walked over to the door. Before she could open it, Lando grabbed her wrist lightly. “What about what happened?” Her eyebrows start to furrow. “I will start an investigation as soon as I go back to the club. There’s cameras in certain areas—I’m hoping that they caught a glimpse of who did it. Before you leave here today, though, I just want you to know that it wasn’t me. I was behind the booth the whole time after you came in, and I only followed you out after I saw you start to lose your footing. I dragged you through the alleys and back here myself, watching our every move. I didn’t sleep, and I even had one of the gogo dancers bring me your helmet and all of your things back from the club this morning. I promise you, Lando Norris, I will find out who did this to you.” His eyes scanned her face like a lie detector—searching for a tell he could not find. She was telling the truth. His eyes softened at her beauty. He knew he still didn’t get to know her—not all of her anyway. “Alright, catwoman. I’ll let you roar.” He giggled, and held the door open for her.

Lando and Fritzi walked along the Paris streets, attempting to avoid the gawking and shuttering of the cameras. While being stopped for photos, Fritzi moved out of the way, even taken a few for some of his diehard fans. “Did you know who I was when you saw me?” She nodded her head slowly. “I actually love Formula One. When I saw you, in that helmet, I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t even know you liked techno! You seem like such a house kinda guy. You all do.” He looked away shyly. She knew who he was, a fan even, and she didn’t ask for a picture, autograph, or even told anyone, other than who were there when he collapsed, that he was at her home. He somehow felt safe and comforted by her presence, even though he understood that he barely scratched the surface of who she is. He knew he wanted to get to know her, and yet, he knew that he would never fully get to either.

As the trains whizzed by, Fritzi handed Lando a piece of ripped sheet music paper. “This is my number and address. When you get a chance, let me know if you’re okay. I will be looking into things for you.” Before she walked away, the racing driver held onto the dj’s hand and pulled her back towards him. “Will I see you again?” “Only if you look for me.” She pointed to the train as it opened its doors. Lando ran to catch it—as he looked back to see her walk away, she’s nowhere to be found. He took his seat next to an old man, and flatten out the crumpled page against his knee. Next to her information, was a scribbled drawing of a little cat. He smiled to himself as he melted into his ride back to Monaco.

[janettheblackcat]

[janettheblackcat]

The Cat | Lando Norris x OC

Summary: Lando Norris, formula one driver and known party boy, gets dared by the other drivers to leave the safe, rich boy nightlife in Monaco to immerse himself in an underground techno club in Paris. There, he gets mesmerized by a beautiful dj dressed like a cat.

Word Count: 1.05k

Pairing: party boy lando x dj!female oc

Warnings: +18, suggestive content, adult content, adult language, drug use, drinking, implied drug abuse, implied date rape drugging, implied roofie, fluff, slow burn, sexual tension, mentions of latex

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Chapter 1

“… and that is why I stop taking whatever girls give me!” the entire grid stared up at amazement. Lando Norris was, in fact, the king of Monaco. While sitting around the paddock, all of the drivers were getting ready to go to their separate post-race celebrations and activities. Max bumped into Lando’s shoulder playfully, walking past him. Lando, to celebrate his one of many race wins this season, will be treating himself behind the booth at Lilly’s Club—his favorite place to party in all of Monte Carlo. Max, after clutching a grand P2, will be streaming himself sim racing. “Yeah, well, it’s just house and stuff, you know? He wouldn’t be able to handle the real thing.” Lando glared at the dutchman. “Oh, is that right? And what would be the real thing?”

“A techno rave in Paris.”

Charles chuckles. Kimi bats his eyelashes.

“Well, I mean I already had plans, you know—“

“I mean, go down into Paris and go to a real nightclub. Go and listen to some real techno.” Max smirked. “You lot don’t think I’d do it, do you?” everyone looked away. “I dare you to do it!” Oscar fake coughed from the side and winked at his teammate, encouraging him to try his luck.

Lando made his way down to the paddock exit, ID in hand. He gets his car delivered to him under the pale moonlight as he makes his way to his Ferrari F40, and drove almost top speed until he arrived at the nearest train station. He, in a panic after only preparing a black button down and black slacks, decided to put on his 2024 Singapore helmet that had been nuzzled in the front trunk of the red sports car. As he hopped onto the train, he got a series of mixed glaring looks—some who knew it was him, and some who just didn’t care. He understood that. He liked that. They all sat in silence, letting the screeching sounds of the railroad be their music.

At the Haussmann Saint-Lazare, there was a dark, quiet atmosphere. It was rearing witch hours, and all of the main clubs in the city that he knew of were beginning to close for the night. As Lando walked along the empty streets, he stumbled upon a blue door with a line of people dripped in Vivienne Westwood and Diesel; deep into Saint-Georges, there was a little club called Le Carmen. Lando flipped up the visor on his helmet, and headed straight towards the bouncer. “Hey, do you mind if I—“

“There’s a line.”

“I know that, I was just wondering if you could—“

“I could do whatever you’d like when it’s your turn.” Lando dropped his hands and sighed. He took his helmet off, and partygoers in line started to murmur and whisper, some even took a photo or two. “I was just wondering if anyone could tell me if this place plays techno music.” The bouncer started to grin. “Lando Norris, is that really you?! It’s so good to see you! Congratulations on your win streak this season! I got you. Go right in, trust me, this place has what you’re looking for.” He smiled at the security and put his helmet back on.

For Lando, this was something new to him. He is known across the world as a serious party boy—but only in the mainstream. He was a formula one driver, and known bass head, always going for the big clubs with house DJs and blonde bottle girls. But, in this obscure space, with its pulsating sounds and sensuous rhythms, he didn’t know what to expect. He wasn’t even going to be let in—maybe even would’ve been sent to the back of the line—until he showed his face; he, for the first time in his career, wasn’t a regular at a club in the city of France. Maybe Max was right—he didn’t know if he could handle the real thing.

The club radiated a deep cherry hue—the bottles atop of the bar, glittering under the disco balls, making gold and silver stars. Leaned against a bar, was a beautiful woman-like figure; she was adorned in a latex catsuit and mask, with kitten ears and a sealed mouth. She turned to face Lando in his racing helmet, a bit of his tanned collarbone peeking under his slightly unbuttoned shirt, his gold chains and rings dancing under the fluorescent lights, and cocked her head to the side.

As Lando started to get close to her, the cat lady swiftly turned away and left her Rick Owens bag with the bartender, strutting over to the stairs and climbing up to the second floor. Before Lando could reach the stairs, he is pulled passed the staircase and onto the main floor by a couple of girls who recognized his helmet, begging for him to sign their chests and buy them drinks. He reluctantly agreed, all the while scanning his eyes around the club, looking for a glimpse of the cat.

Some time passed by before the race car driver decided to take his helmet off and find the woman he’d been looking for. Who was she? What was she? After finally pulling away from the crowd and the cocaine flying downstairs, he reached the top floor, where a crunchy kick and an overwhelmingly grotesque bass started to swell. As he made his way towards the sound, he saw her again; she was tapping her feet, her lips fastened but her eyes wide open, bopping her head, going from one cdj the the next—the cat-woman from the bar was the one spinning that hard techno. Entrancing. Hypnotic. Enslaving. Each song glided into the next like one grand symphony. At the end of her set, she played a song that sounded like it was picked just for him—a song about being famous.

To be famous is so nice

Suck my dick

Kiss my ass

In limousines we have sex

Every night with my famous friends

Nice

Suck my dick, dick, dick, dick…

So nice

VIP area

Frank, Frank, Frank Sinatra…

The music erupted into an echoing mirage as Lando began to lose consciousness. As he quickly started to hallucinate and the room began to spin, he tripped over himself—trying to get to the bottom level and back out through the front door; refusing to even entertain the idea of looking for his helmet, he rushed out of the club, disoriented and scared. He deliriously staggered away until his vision continued to blur, landing face first on the desolate streets of Paris, right in front of Moulin Rouge. The last thing he could see and feel, before everything went black, was being physically overturned onto his back by his shoulders, watching a pair of floppy, black cat ears fade away as the dj started to remove her mask. “Lando? Mr. Norris…?”

[janettheblackcat]

we 🖤 techno

[janettheblackcat]