jujubieberbae

[jujubieberbae]

HARD TO MISS

Lando Norris x Driver!Reader 7.9K words

Summary: You had driven sick many times before, but never sick enough to retire from a race. Now Lando was worried about you and how the media was going to react. But maybe this was just about the best thing that could of happened to him. Or in which, reader gets sick during the Spanish GP race and has to face the looming media presence after retiring early with a newfound anger she's never experienced. She was a mess of emotions, acting so different, or maybe it wasn't just her being strange.

Teammates, established relationship, an unexpected surprise?? Note: this unfortunately is a re-upload because my dumbass literally deleted the post the first time I posted it despite it being up for days. Yes I'm mad, and no this isn't edited because of it.

The heat of the Spanish sun beat down on the track, the asphalt shimmering with a relentless intensity that seemed to seep through the cockpit. You gripped the steering wheel tighter, your knuckles whitening as you fought to keep your focus on the race ahead, hot, fast breaths heaving through your helmet like a symphony. The familiar roar of the engine, usually a comforting sound, felt more like a distant hum as yet another wave of nausea rolled through you.

This wasn’t the first time you’d raced under less-than-ideal conditions, but today felt different. The adrenaline that usually sharpened your senses now seemed to amplify the queasiness in your stomach, every bump and turn on the track making it harder to push the discomfort aside. You swallowed hard, trying to suppress the rising bile as you powered through another corner, the car responding to your every command despite the growing turmoil within.

The twisting and turning of the track seemed endless, each lap blurring into the next as your vision narrowed, tunnel-like, around the path ahead. You knew you needed to speak up, to let your team know something was wrong, but the words felt heavy on your tongue, weighted down by the fear of admitting weakness. Finally, you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

"I'm not feeling very well."

The twisting and turning of the track was making it hard for you to settle your stomach enough to find your voice, but when you had, there was a long silence on the other end. Ears alert with anticipation as nothing came through, before the thick accent of your engineer, Marlow finally sounded in with a panicked voice, "Are you feeling faint?"

"Not really.” You huffed. “I feel quite nauseous though. My stomach is not cooperating."

There was a short silence through your head piece before a shuffle was heard on the other side, followed by a concerned, "Should we retire the car?"

The suggestion shakes you and a quick puff of air leaves your mouth in order to hopefully settle the turning in your stomach, though you think it might have translated more as annoyance to your team despite the intention. You couldn't help but hope it hadn't come off too harshly, however the forceful tone of your next words certainly didn’t do much to calm the idea. "No! I'm not retiring the car... No, I'm okay." "Please love, If you can't finish there's no shame in retiring. You're not letting anyone down, we understand-!" He knew how stubborn you were and he really didn't want the question to feel like the hit to the ego he knew you would take it as, but it was hard when everyone knew this race was what was separating you from top 3 and the rest on the ladder. They knew it wouldn't be that easy, quickly corroborated by the frustrated grunt you let sound through the line.

Your foot braces against the accelerator, bearing down full force as you take the straight right after corner 4 at full speed, you weren't retiring. Subjective to your own harsh perception of yourself, retiring - no matter the circumstance - was one of the most culpable failures you could commit. It was never a rewarding feeling, and whether or not to retire from a race like this was an indisputable no. Six years into the sport and you had never retired from a race on your own accord. Today would not be the first.

"I'm okay for now."

There was no arguing with a driver going over 300 kilometers an hour, and so the team let your decision chart as they sat back and kept on with their roles, no different than before. Except for one thing, noting the conversation, they all made undisclosed motions to keep an extra close eye on the driver cam.

And so the race continued as 10 laps went by, 10 very shaky laps with countless immoderate wobbles, a few oversteers around a couple corners and a very close call with Carlos who made quick work of letting the communal radio know how exactly he felt about that, words that were quickly relayed to you. Though his accent was warm, his words were anything but kind and usually you would have taken it on the chin, laughed at his profanities and apologized with a quick witty comment to follow, but your team watched as you only let out a harrowing breath and shook your head. You obviously were not on your A-game and your entire team could see that.

So with all this, it came as no surprise when the silence in their headphones was abruptly interrupted with the blaring sound of your wheels against the track, followed by your voice, quick yet strained, echoing through the radio.

"I think I'm gonna be sick, guys."

With not a moment to spare, Marlows eyebrows furrowed down at your words, worry clear in his voice as he pressed down on the radio button. And though his words were mostly phrased as a question emphasizing the choice as your own, it was still hard to miss the pleading tone in his voice as he spoke loudly into the headpiece, "Are we retiring? It’s your call, love."

Your end of the radio was silent as the words rang through your headset, though not for lack of connection as the sound of your wheels barrelling against the tar never ceased. They knew you were still there, just not vocalizing your thoughts. They had no doubt this was a tough decision. A huge part of this sport was pride; pride in your team, pride in your car, pride in your abilities. And being the only woman on the grid meant your pride was strong and the backlash was inevitably more harsh when things went wrong. 

It was already hard enough for a driver to admit they needed to back out of a race, let alone for a driver who had something to prove and everything to lose. It was a decision they knew you were avoiding complying with. You had been complaining about feeling ill for days leading up to the race and yet insisted on racing regardless. They knew this was important to you, and to back out now, after making it so far already? Your heart was strong, and your head stronger. But for this one time, it seems your stomach was the strongest, and your nausea was taking the reins of this particular race. And so you bit your lip, hoping to keep the bile from rising for just a little while longer. “I need to stop. I’m retiring the car. I can't help it.”

As disappointing as ending a race early was, your team couldn’t deny the shred of relief that washed over them as you, for once, chose your health first. As fun as racing was, and as rewarding as a race in points felt, none of it was ever worth the increased risk to your safety. They would much rather you all woozy up in the medic bay with a DNF, than halfway to unconsciousness with a p8 finish. This certainly wasn’t your best race anyways, probably one the lowest you’d been in points this season. 

As you began your way around your last lap towards the pit lane, your mind raced with all the dreadful thoughts a DNF brought, the pit in your stomach rearing into a sizeable hole which would of left you feeling melancholy if the twisting and turning hadn’t trumped the discontent. 

As each second passed, you could feel whatever it was you had eaten for lunch earlier with Lando rising higher and higher. High enough in fact, that you found it necessary to press the radio button once more with a request. “Have a bag ready for me when I pull up, please.”

To which a compliant, “Copy.” sounded suit.

It wasn’t too much longer until your orange car could be seen sweeping down the pit lane, no hesitation in your steering as you made a harsh turn into your spot by the garage door. The pit team were prepared to make haste in their actions, ready to prop your car onto the jack in order to wheel it into the garage only to be stopped when two quick hands extended up as you braced yourself up against the halo and pulled yourself out of the seat.

At this point, you were hyper aware of the all the people surrounding you, as well as the multitude of cameras pointing directly at you, recording your every move for all the judgeful eyes to see, and yet you found not a single cell in yourself which cared as you leaned over the car and called out for your assistant, who quickly met you with a large black bin in tow. 

You quickly grabbed for it, pulling your front over the side of the car as far as you could in order to hide yourself from the view of the cameras. And out it came, a slurry of lunch which you had been so looking forward to at the time, and quickly regretting now as it all escaped your stomach.

What in the world had you feeling so ill in the first place? It felt like it had been lightyears since you had felt sick enough to actually puke, and god did you not miss this feeling. Had you eaten something bad earlier in the day? Maybe. But everything you ate Lando had eaten too, so wouldn’t he be sick as well? Well, it’s not really like you could ask him, you thought as you looked up just in time to see him overtake George on the big screen. He looks a little busy. And you should be busy too.

The thought seared through your mind as you spat into the bin, you should be racing too, but at least you feel a little better now that it’s come out; though not completely. Your stomach still churned a little and now your throat burned but you guessed it was better than crashing. You had already nearly done that just by being on the track a little too long and now you were definitely going to receive an earful from Sainz when he finally crossed the checkered flag and found you inevitably moping. 

However, you quickly realized that Carlos was actually the least of your worries and the only person you really had to fear was Lando, for when he heard about the outcome of your race, you were sure to face the lecture of your life. He had been warning you for days leading up to it not to participate. You were obviously unwell and he was aware of the dangers an unwell driver faced under the taxing conditions of a race but you were stubborn, insisting you would be fine. Look at you now. Head in a bin with cameras all around and a bruised ego. 

There was only a little time now until the race ended to recover before everyone came pummeling at you with questions. 

The wheel was starting to feel heavy in his hands and the rubbing of the HANS device against his neck was really starting to hurt. They were approaching the end stretch of the race and as the last 15 laps commenced, Lando couldn’t help but feel a little relieved knowing this would be over soon. This was undoubtedly a tough race. 

From lights out till now, he’d managed to pull from P5 to P4 and had every intention of passing Lewis for a podium position, soon enough he’d be in DRS range but for the time being, he was focused on catching up. The world around him had become mute, he hadn’t even looked up at the grand screen once, all he knew was the car.

So he had almost jumped in his seat when the chime sounded. Just as he began slowing around the final corner leading up to the line for his next lap, the sound of an incoming radio signal had his ears perking in anticipation. Were they planning on pitting him again? Sure he was definitely pushing a little too hard against his tires- not really doing his best at conserving them but he was so close to a podium position and he just needed a little bit more force-

“Lando mate,” Will’s voice sounded through his ears, his tone a little hesitant which left Lando biting his lip with anticipation. Please don't box. “I’ve just been informed by Marlow that y/n has retired.”

Lando's heart nearly fell into his stomach as the words registered in his brain. You retired?! Now thinking about it, you did start only a single position behind him and he hadn’t really seen all that much of you during the race. What happened? “Did she crash?!”

“No Lando, she's okay, it was voluntary. She wasn’t feeling well, I don’t think.” 

“You don’t think?”

“She’s okay Lando, just under the weather.”

Not feeling well? Under the weather? You’d raced a multitude of times before whilst under the weather. Each time he’d advise you not to race, and each time you’d ignore him, swearing up and down you’d be fine- and to Lando’s consolation each time you were fine. You’d come out the other side with a smile, no qualms or grievances and you would save your complaints for him afterwards, when no one else was around to judge. As you had done before, he expected the same this time. You’d never let a little ailment set you back, especially not let it affect you enough to retire. Not unless it really was bad.

Lando’s thoughts were soon interrupted by Will’s voice once more, his tone dismissive, implying the conversation had reached its end and no more discussion would be had about it. “We will contact you again if anything happens.”

And despite Lando’s dismay, he complies. There were still a good 15 laps left of the race ahead and he had a lot of catching up to do, a lot of competitive driving to be had. His focus couldn’t be elsewhere, but what was he supposed to do knowing his sick fiancé has just pulled herself out of a race? What was he supposed to do when he knew you well enough to understand how prideful you could be, and how poor you had to feel to choose to retire?  

He really tries to not let it bother him. During the next lap, he tries to not let it bother him as he forces himself to look anywhere else but the jumbo screen in hopes of a possible update on your condition. He tries to not let it bother him in the lap after that as the team radios in to discuss possible strategies regarding the oncoming overtake he will perform, and he tries to not let it bother him during the lap after that one when he finally passes Lewis. Now 3 laps have passed but he just can't get the questions about you off his mind. It is bothering him. He shouldn’t be distracted, especially while he’s in a podium position but he can’t help it. 

So as he crosses onto the next straight, he finds himself radioing in with the question that had been eating away at him since the news broke. “Uh.. Any updates on y/n? Is she alright?”

There's a considerable moment of silence on Mclaren’s end of the line, the team were honestly tied on what to tell the man and what not to. You weren’t exactly in optimal condition, and word around was slightly worrisome regarding your state. You were okay, but definitely not well, they knew because they had caught the treacherous sounds of your gags a few more times since the first echoing through the mclaren garage. 

As your fiance, he deserved to know these details, but as a driver, they knew it wasn’t smart to worry him. What were they to say as to not stress him out in an already extremely stressful situation? They could tell him a few of your team members were discussing taking you to the hospital. Or they could keep him from driving the car through the wall in order to meet you there. The decision was clear, they needed him to focus on driving. “She’s okay, she's currently being looked at by the medical team.”

“She has the medical team on her?!” Will’s eyes shut hard as Lando’s reply came through. Definitely not the right choice of words.

“Just a precaution Lando, she isn’t well at the moment.”

Lando’s bottom lip catches between his teeth as he ponders his engineer's words. He finds himself over analyzing every syllable, every infliction with intentions of unpacking whatever truth was seeping between the lines, and he notices that he’s biting his cheek as he rounds the 8th corner with a little less precision than usual. “Is she bad?” Landos team take quick note of this change in pace, latching onto the clear oversteer he performs around the corner. They quickly find themselves trying to pull away from the topic in order to keep him both figuratively and literally on track and so Will concludes the conversation with a stern tone. “Please Lando, you can see her when you're done racing. We need you to focus on the race.”

He almost wanted to curse the man out purely due to frustration despite knowing deep down that he was right. But what else was he supposed to do when he knows his fiancé is sitting in the medic bay and all he can do to support her is… well, nothing. He just has to finish this race.

Despite your protests, your team was adamant on a visit to the med bay in order to possibly come up with a reason for your sudden onset of race ending symptoms, and after a quick trip down the hall that took a little longer than usual due to your need to stop once more, you were simply told there wasn’t much they could do long term to crack the bilous case. Shocker. They did however hand you something to ease the nausea which you were beyond thankful for.

You had spent so long counting down the seconds until the anti-nausea medication kicked in that you hadn't even noticed that the race had ended, nor did you notice the approaching sound of hasteful footsteps until the door to your driver's room came barrelling open with a thud.

“I told you not to race.” Lando’s voice was so stern it had you stiff. There was a slight indication of anger lingering behind his words but ultimately his face was a dead giveaway to the worried intention etched behind his tone. 

“I thought I’d be okay.”

“You threw up?” His eyebrows came down as he said it, and you noticed it was less of a question and more as if he was trying to confirm a suspicion. Someone from your team must have snitched on you already. No damn loyalties.

“Only a little.” Your words were sheepish.

“You stink.” He deadpanned and you found yourself scoffing, slightly exasperated at the bluntness of his words. The statement had you petty with offense. 

“You don’t smell very good either-”

“-I don’t smell like vomit.”

Finally you let out a sigh, already tired of the back and forth over something so menial, and unworthy of an argument. You were sick. Shit happens. “Lando, I wasn’t feeling well and I’d been feeling it all week with no real problem so I didn’t think there would be a reason to sit this race out. I didn’t think I would actually need to pull over. It’s done now.”

There was a loud silence between the two of you as he onced over your body with intentful eyes. You seemed okay enough and he guessed this really wasn’t the time or place to start an argument, especially over something as stupid as him being worried about you, you were on the same damn side. So instead he just sighed, bit his lip and nodded at you. “Alright.”

“Guys.” Charlotte suddenly peaked her head through the cracked door to glance at you both. “Come on, we need you at Media now.”

This wasn’t going to be easy, that you knew. The media had given you a hard time for things way less than this so you could only imagine what they had in store for you after throwing up on live TV for half the world to see moments after a voluntary DNF. It just about felt like you were being led to your execution with the way you knew they were about to tear into you. But there was no avoiding this, and the grimaced look etched into your features left Lando very aware of this fact.

“I know you don’t wanna do this but you have to go out there, you’ve got no choice. Not unless you’re willing to cop a fat fine.”

You stuck an eyebrow up at Landos voice, the sides of your lips extending out as you conceptualized his words but your expression quickly had him shaking his head alongside a hearty laugh. “No, no. Don’t even look like you’re considering it.”

Your laugh to match his own soon sounded throughout the room, and his hand swiftly found its place at the nape of your neck, to which he gave a quick squeeze and began leading you out the door into the McLaren garage hallway. “We have a wedding to plan and that means a lot of money to spend. You will not be wasting money trying to get out of media duties.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at how exasperated and sarcastic he sounded.

You both found yourselves trailing along Charlotte's path until the hallway quickly opened up into a large room where a few other drivers had already begun their own separate interviews towards the camera crews which littered every corner. The media pen; may as well be your death site.

Whilst waiting for the race to end; and for the nausea to subside, Charlotte had given you a rundown - more like a lecture; regarding what to expect and how to approach the inevitably condescending questions that would soon be thrown your way. 

This was going to be brutal, you knew that. You had finally made a mistake that the male media could exploit to reinforce their stereotypes about damned women in motorsports. Just another day facing the misogyny of the position, except this time, it was your own carelessness that put you in this position. The only damned thing you’d be was a damned liar if you said the upcoming articles tearing into you weren’t already gnawing at your mind. You could just picture it;

‘’Mclaren Princess’ Just Might Throw Her Way Up and Out of Competitive Driving,’

‘Speed Queen’s Weak Stomach Shows Why She’s Better Suited for Other Races,’

‘Too Glamorous For The F1 Track? or Maybe Not Glamorous Enough; - maybe we should leave the fast cars to the men that made them.’ 

This might just be worse than the ‘Revving Engines, not Emotions,’ article from last year when you teared up in Australia after what was the most frustrating race of your career. This was going to be horrible. 

Your actions were always hyper-criticized, but maybe just once you were being too imaginative for your own good. You needed to calm down because words tended to stick with you. A fact that Charlotte knew all too well, because she was sure to speak words she knew would ring through your ears during those interviews; Take it on the chin, stay composed and certainly don't be snappy. One of those was doable.

The moment you passed the threshold beyond the doorway, officially crossing into the media pen, it's as if every set of eyes and every lens of a camera had turned to watch you move. The room hadn’t by any means gone quiet, but there was definitely a shift in volume as the noise settled from a near unbearable buzz to a tolerable chatter, just enough to notice the change. The influx of attention almost had you doubling over once again, especially when you felt the nausea begin to slowly creep up for the second time that day. But you made notable efforts to keep your head high, hoping that a strong demeanor would at least soften the blow which would soon be dealt.

Lando’s arm had split from your neck not long after entering the room. You guys were always light on your PDA, trying to keep as much of your personal relationship as private as possible; as private as an already public relationship could possibly be. But he still managed to give you a small, reassuring squeeze on the hip before you both set off, being led in opposite directions.

A flurry of reporter eyes seemed to trail your path as your personal PR manager led you to a spot right in between Carlos and Charles, and as you started setting yourself up, you unavoidably overheard their journalists trying to wrap up their interviews, which you could only imagine would be to get a shot at you faster. 

However unluckily for those journalists, it seems your first adversary had already taken the stand just directly across from you with a large, heavy mic and aged, gleaming eyes; eyes that had your own widening in alarm. You were quite familiar with this journalist, very familiar with him actually as he had always been quick to criticize you and your skills on many occasions in the past. He was quite ill-mannered towards you, definitely holding a target out with a gun aimed directly for your career, making it clear he was disapproving of your presence as a woman on this grid. You just knew he had been waiting for you. This was going to be hell.

The journalist quickly began setting himself up, the cameraman behind him pointing the lens directly at your sour face, which you admittedly were not doing a great job at masking. Though, if your interviewer had noticed, he thankfully hadn’t commented on it. However that didn’t stop him from wasting any time beginning to comment on the other mistakes you had made today.

“Always a pleasure to speak with you, Speed Queen.” His gravelly voice spat. “Though I think ‘Pit Princess’ may be a little more fitting after today's race.” A sly smirk quickly spread across his mouth, an act that had your hands bracing against the railing separating the two of you from one another. Charles had quickly taken notice of this from his position just beside you. He admittedly felt he was doing quite well at remaining professional and ignoring the exchange between you and the infamous journalist, but now he was on high alert, ears perked in your direction with the intention of intervening at any given moment.

Despite your peeved sentiment, you did well at keeping your face straight and head high at the insult, feeling it necessary to not crack in front of the person trying to get a reaction out of you. Don’t prove his point. 

“I appreciate the creativity, but I think I would prefer to focus on the race itself rather than nicknames. I’m quite happy with the one I have.” There was a moment in which he tried to intervene, however you were determined to move past the subject. “-And, you know, today’s challenges were significant, but that’s a part of the sport, I guess.” Despite the lingering nausea, you still managed to force a professional smile.

“Is it?” He curled an eyebrow condescendingly, a look which nearly had a scowl slipping past your placid facade. But instead you held strong, that sickeningly sweet smile dripping like honey with disdain. “Part of the sport is the unpredictability of it. So I’d say so.”

The man's eyes gleamed on, a small hum escaping his lips as he nodded absently. “It’s just that no other driver seems to have this issue. Do you think maybe your choice to retire has to do with particular limitations a female might have that the men in this sport don’t?”

And as expected, the indirectness wasn’t so indirect anymore, the true misogynistic intentions of his words slowly crept out with ferocity. 

“No.” Your tone was final, like it hadn’t ever crossed your mind, because it really hadn’t. “No I really don’t. Many men before me have gotten sick during races, I guess I just preferred to voluntarily take myself out of the race than spend the rest of it wiping pesto off my visor.” You snarled. 

A small tap against your arm quickly alerted you to the contention of your PR manager, a disapproving gesture silently advising you to reel it in. But god was it hard when his face was so smug. She should understand that being passive aggressive was much more admissible than being violent, so she may as well let you get your anger out in the socially acceptable way, though you admit it was strange of you to feel so angry. You were usually better at keeping your emotions in check. Hm. But alas, you complied, correcting your face and letting him speak; even if you wanted so badly to interrupt him with your thoughts of how horrible a journalist he was. 

“Well, I think a lot of people agree when I say that this sport tends to reward determination and resilience, not quitting.”

Were you hearing this correctly? Was he really implying that you should have thrown up right into your helmet and just continued through the race like nothing? It was getting really hard to remain socially acceptable. What was this new found anger? “Racing may sometimes reward resilience, however, being sharp minded is more important sometimes. I noticed I was unwell enough for it to affect my performance, so I decided it was smarter to take myself out of the race. Especially after nearly taking Carlos out of the race too.” 

Just as you finished answering the (absurd) question, a suave laugh sounded to your left as Carlos suddenly stepped up beside you, sliding his arm across your shoulder. “I did have some choice words prepared for you earlier Mija, but then I learnt what happened and now I forgive you.” His eyes suddenly turned to the journalist, a glint of exaggerated pity in relation to the topic seeping into his expression, almost as if he was speaking with experience to someone who wouldn’t understand; because he was. “Driving whilst sick is not for the weak.”

The journalist's cold eyes squinted slightly as Carlos’ condescending tone registered in his head, yet he kept his expression neutral and mic high as he nodded. “I’m sure it isn’t.” And nothing was said after that. No rebuttal, no argumentative comment, just a plea of agreement. God, how you wished interviews were that easy for you.

A few voices echoing out from somewhere behind had caught the attention of the trio, and it didn’t take long for you to realize it was Carlos’ team instructing him to move onwards to his next position. So with a reassuring smile towards you and a quick quirk of a brow towards the reporter, he was off to his next interview without another word, taking your fleeting moment of security along with him as he left.

Now it was just you and the reporter once more, and you could tell he wasn’t feeling as cordial with you as he was with Carlos, evident by the slight snarl that had crept onto his face by the interruption in your defense. “Friendly words from Sainz there, as always.” he began, his tone dripping with insincerity, “Do you find it degrading that other drivers always have to come to your defense in order to keep your positive reputation, because there are a lot of people that believe you perhaps, ride off the success of others.” 

Your stomach twisted, and if it was from the nausea growing once again or from the sheer audacity of his words, you couldn’t tell. He was essentially implying that the only reason people liked you was because other likable people vouched for you, and not because of your own hard work and valiant achievements. It seems he wanted defense, you were about to show him just how defensive you could be. 

“With all due respect,” you began, voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge, “I don’t defend myself because I don’t have to, because the genuinity of my character extends far past my words.” you paused, thinking about your next words carefully. “My peers defend me because I’ve proven my capabilities time and time again, and they know that one incident doesn’t define my career. However, I don’t think you share the same sentiment, hm?” 

The taunting in your voice was quickly caught on by your PR manager who swiftly grabbed your arm in yet another warning, except this time you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as much. The journalist's eyes narrowed at your words, clearly not expecting such a discourteous response and the tugging of your PR manager's grip against your arm was an obvious nonverbal message to wrap it up but you weren't finished, oh no. That new found anger that had been gnawing at you all race was just beginning to trickle out.

“‘Riding off the success of others.’” Your quoted, voice riddled with humor, “And yet you somehow manage to find me every post race interview. Do you write these question’s down in your little notebook while you watch my multi-race winning car fly past you? Or do you wipe the dust from the camera lens instead?”

He quickly opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, your PR manager intervened, her grip on your arm tightening slightly as she stepped forward. “This interview is over,” she announced firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. “McLaren will be utalizing the next few days to help Y/n recover for next week's race. If you have any further questions, you can direct them to our media office.”

Your eyes widened in shock at the intervention. You had overstepped your media training a few times before and yet none had ever led to the end of the interview. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little surprised at your PR manager's swift movements as she tugged you back and away from the journalist. “Let’s move on.” Her voice was disapproving but she was obviously trying to remain calm and professional, understanding there was a job to be done. But your anger wasn’t discriminatory, everyone was a potential outlet, and you weren’t having this. “No, I’m finished.” You didn’t even want to participate in media in the first place, this was obligatory. You had done your part and now you were taking charge of the rest of your night. And so you pulled your arm back and made quick haste towards the exit, leading back to your driver room. 

You were only a few meters from the door now, acutely aware of all the eyes watching you retire early from yet another obligation today, when a hand grazing the small of your back pulled you away from the tormenting feeling of the bile rising once again. This time, it was Charles, his sweet face beaming a reassuring smile at you as he began walking in stride towards the exit alongside you. “Mon cheri, that was something else.” 

You couldn’t help but scoff at his words, nausea bubbling once again, expecting yet another lecture from someone else. “If by ‘something else’ you mean a complete disaster, then yeah, I guess.”

Charles kept his tone steady, a touch of amusement in his voice as you both walked in stride. “No, I mean you handled it with a lot of, uhh.. What is the English? Poise.” 

You gave him a skeptical look. “Thanks, but it didn’t feel like handling things with poise, It felt like I was about to lose it.” 

His smile slipped into a small laugh before it fell,  and his bright eyes quickly turned into one’s of worry as he began a once over of your body. “Are you feeling okay?” he began the inevitable conversation. “I’m okay, it’ll pass I'm sure.”

Charles’ brows furrowed down, thick accent sounding with worry as he spoke. “You shouldn’t count on it passing, you should take care of yourself. You’re only gonna have more shit thrown at you if you don’t-”

As sweet as his concern was, you were tired of this conversation today, it was becoming tedious to hear and you really just needed to lie down or something. “-Charles, I really appreciate it and I'll be sure to visit the doctor tomorrow, but I think I’m gonna be sick again, so how about you cover me up to the hallway before I end up in another fight with a reporter, or my head in another bin on TV.”

Your words had Charles’s eyes widening, quickly glancing around from side to side in search of his target who was finishing up from an interview of his own, when your hand came up to press against your mouth, skin turning a tinge green. “Lando!”

The video shook a little as the person on the other end fidgeted with the camera, a slight blur shifting the image and the audio cracking with the movement before the frame finally straightened up. The person took a step back. It was you, which wasn’t all that surprising considering the video had been uploaded onto your own instagram, but it was the first anyone had really heard of you in weeks. 

Ever since your race ending ailment back in Spain, you had essentially gone radio silent. Not posting, not participating in interviews; you had missed 2 more races since then. It was worrisome, especially considering you had assured everyone the day after Spain that you were working on getting better for next week's race, which you never showed up to. 

The races went on and the fans asked about you, the interviewers asked about you too, but it seemed everyone involved in the FIA had no comment on your whereabouts nor your condition. The drivers dodged post interview questions, excelling on to new subjects and only had quick fleeting comments in response to concerned fans around the paddock who were only trying to make sense of it all.

Lando copped the brunt end of it though, scoring a P2 podium in Canada that everyone could more obviously care less about in his post-race interviews. The only topic mentioned was you, your absence from the race and why everyone was so hush-hush about it in the first place. The interviews were so off topic that this time it was Lando who had to leave the media pen early to avoid the questions, though opposingly, McLaren had been the ones to encourage his swift exit.

It was starting to become an issue. People were fretful. Were you still sick? Was it something more serious than you had anticipated and now you couldn’t race anymore?

The view they were looking at suggested that perhaps they were about to find out. 

You retreated away from the camera propped up against what people could only speculate had to be your dressing table, as you found your spot upon the large, luxurious bed the camera was pointing towards. Now cross legged upon it, your body clad in a 2 piece short silky pajama set, finally you began to speak. 

“Hello everyone.” You didn’t sound unwell, not stressed or upset. In fact, there was an edge to your voice that almost seemed cheerful; excited. And yet for now you remained composed, nothing but a small, media trained smile dawning your otherwise expressionless face.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” The sentence was humorous, calling attention to the silence you had afflicted, and the lack of news upon your whereabouts. “Lando and I are finally home in Monaco for summer break, though I have to admit that I’ve actually been in Monaco for a few weeks now. I think some of you might feel that was a bit obvious given my absence.”

There was a high pitched chuckle off screen, it obviously being Lando out of frame as your eyes flickered over to the side with a playful yet mischievous smile, encouraging his reaction with your expression. It was a fleeting moment as your smile once again fell into something a little more vacant before straightening up and continuing. “I know a lot of people have questions, and I do want to apologize for the lack of communication on my end, I’ll explain, I promise but first I also want to say please don’t be mad at any of the other drivers for not speaking out, they were all just respecting my wishes in not saying anything until I was ready.”

There was a small pause as you took a breath, no sound emitting except for the slight breeze wafting through the room, further exemplified by the sway of the sheer curtains. This was so nerve racking, were you about to announce your departure from motorsport? Were you about to reveal a sickness you weren't aware of until now? The silence, though short lived, was deafening. 

“I-” Finally you spoke, but quickly caught it with a bite to your lower lip. It really seemed like you were processing your words, debating how to present your next statement carefully enough. “How do I-?”

Once again your gaze drifted off to the side of the screen, confused and cautious eyes quickly averting into a bright smile before a laugh escaped your mouth. “Don’t look so excited!” 

Lando, obviously beaming, clear by the tone of his voice, cheerfully yelled back, “Do you want me to say it?!”

“No!” you rebutted quickly with a laugh, “I told you I wanted to be the one to announce it, stop trying to take my shine!”

“Then go on with it!” He was so obviously really excited, impatient to finally announce whatever it was that had him so elevated.

“Okay well-” You stuttered for a moment, quickly catching yourself before continuing. “As many of you saw in Spain, I wasn’t feeling too well,-”

“-Hard to miss-.” Landos voice mumbled, a comment in which you swiftly ignored.  

“-And I hadn’t been for a few days leading up to it but I just took it as a stomach bug and planned to go on with it like usual. What I didn’t plan for however, was the doctor's visit I was forced to go to the day after.”

Your eyes glared off to the side once again, feigning annoyance but evidently not actually upset before looking back at the camera with a smile. “The good news is that we are very much aware of what was making me sick.” Your voice was reassuring, eyes slowly beginning to light up as you continued on. “The bad news is that I unfortunately will not be participating in the rest of the 2024 season, or the 2025 one for that matter.”

It was like you could feel the impending shock of everyone watching radiating through the screen despite it being pre recorded because your pause was almost comically dramatic. And yet it was so wholly conflicting, because regardless of the awful news, you didn’t really seem all that upset despite being such a passionate racer, it felt so out of character. This confusion was only exemplified further when your eyes once again drifted to the left, a large smile engulfing your features as you took notice of what had to be Lando's excited expression once more. “Oh don’t look so happy, you’re the one who still gets to race!”

“I’m sorry!” He laughed that high pitched laugh he does when he just can’t hold it back.

Your eyes flickered back to the camera, sitting straight on with a patient yet humorous smile, a single eyebrow cocked as you waited for Landos laughter to simmer. It took a moment, a moment you thought ended a time or two before he began again, but eventually the room became still again as your face grew just a little more in adoration towards the man everyone could see you loved dearly. It was like the energy had shifted just a little, from what felt so playful before, to something a little more familial and warm. 

“I think some of you may have put the pieces together, but for those who haven’t. Well… I’m pregnant!” Your smile was so big and sheepish, so conscious and just a little shy, it almost felt as if you were announcing it to a friend of many years and it was all just so heartwarming. You were okay! More than that, you were happy, and soon everyone else who would watch this video would be too. Lando's happy laugh from beyond the camera at the announcement finally being made was more than enough to express just how joyous the news was for the two of you.

“As heartbreaking as it will be to not be able to competitively race in the upcoming seasons, I’m not actually that sad about having to step down for a little.” You laughed heartily. “I proudly announce that in my place, the very talented Australian driver Oscar Piastri will be filling my position until I'm off from… maternity leave? I guess. That's a first for this sport.”  You laughed.  “But of course they just had to find the best to replace the best.” You quickly glanced over towards Lando out of frame, clearly expecting an agreement that never came. They could only imagine the disapproving look Lando was sending you.

Your expression never changed, but your tone dropped as you spoke darkly. “I’m carrying your child.” You spat, to which a loud “But of course!” sounded in response, followed by a laugh from the both of you.

“Don’t worry, you’ll still be seeing me around the track a lot considering this muppet,” you pointed to your left, “still gets to race.”

“Don’t be jealous,” the soft voice came from off screen. 

“No, I’ll confidently admit it, I’m so jealous.” You pouted, but the warmth in your eyes belied the playful tone in your voice.

Lando’s hand appeared in the frame for a brief moment, gently squeezing your shoulder before disappearing off-camera again. “We’ll be back out there together soon enough.”

You nodded, your smile returning as you glanced back at the camera, feeling a surge of excitement for what was to come. “In the meantime, I’m looking forward to supporting the team from a different angle. It’s going to be a new experience, but I’m excited to do this as…”

“-As a mother?” Lando finished with a knowing smirk.

“As a mother.” You laughed, a loud one from Lando soon sounded to match your own, one so joyous it left you beaming. Suddenly, Lando jolted in frame, clearly excited as he leaned over the bed to tackle you from your sitting position down into a hug, leaving you both falling back onto the sheets. “Oh my god Lando!” You shout, a hand quickly moving to shield your lower stomach. “God! Nevermind guys, I think Lando just tackled the baby out of me, guess I’ll be seeing you all from my McLaren in Austria.”

“Oh!” Lando gasped. “Not funny!” 

[jujubieberbae]

PRICE OF FAME

Lando Norris x Reader 6.2K words | click me |

Summary: The clubbing scene wasn't anything new to Lando, and the multitude of women at his feet wasn't anything new either. What was new was the way his eyes drew to just one single point in the room. He wasn't the type to approach a woman, but the way you moved had him captivated and it seemed everyone wanted a piece of you yet no one could have you—and Lando was determined to be the first to bite. He didn't know it but your intentions were just as elusive. Or in which, Lando thinks you're enthralling and you think he's bold; and he doesn't know it but you're a lot quicker than him, obviously.

Pining, Mutual attraction, MORE Pining, Alude to Smut. Note: this is yet another re-upload after I stupidly deleted my last two posts. Fotunately, this one is edited despite how mad I was that I needed to do it again.

This club he had been so looking forward to tonight was quickly becoming a red blur of flashing lights and a continuous shrill of pounding bass. It was a familiar scene in which Lando had drifted through countless times before, a scene he was eager to engage in yet again after a long week of work. But tonight, he was only vaguely aware of the friends that had accompanied him here like he usually would be, because his attention had narrowed to a single point on the dance floor.

That point was you, a glowing sight of swaying thighs and rolling hips. He'd spotted you early on in the evening, just about as soon as he had stepped in and downed his first round of drinks when he noticed you caught up in the middle of what he assumed was your group of friends. Your laughter had cut through the blaring song like a melody all in its own and he had to admit that when he spot you, the way you sung every lyric like the playlist was your own was captivating.

You were undoubtedly the center of gravity in this club right now, everything and everyone just seemed to gravitate towards you as if you were a magnet; your girlfriends, other girls who seemed to want to dance with you too, men who were eager to test their chances with you, even the music seemed to follow the sway of your body. 

The way you moved with a confidence so rarely executed so effortlessly was hard to ignore, and each step and roll of your hips was obviously drawing more than just his own eyes. He had seen the multitude of men attempting their best pick up lines on you, watching intently as one by one each guy tried to approach you—some with drinks in hand, others with cocky grins plastered on their faces, some even tried to jump straight to physicality—but you turned them all away. Sometimes it was with a polite smile and a shake to your head, and other times it was with a sharp look that would make them retreat almost as fast as they’d come, and then you would quickly go back to dancing with your girls like it never happened. It was a sight to see, the way you handled yourself and brushed them off so effortlessly, like you had no time for their attempts to impress you.

And maybe you didn’t. Maybe you were here just to enjoy a night out with your girls, no interruptions, no distractions. Maybe you had someone waiting for you at home, someone who wouldn’t appreciate the attention you were getting tonight. There were so many reasons he could make justifying his own lack of attempts at impressing you, thoughts that swirled in Lando’s mind which fed his hesitation and kept him rooted in his own circle of friends because similarly, he’d spent the night brushing away a flurry of women of his own. Women who would approach him with flirtatious grins, asking for photos, trying to strike up conversations that all felt the same.

It wasn’t the first time, and he knew it definitely wouldn’t be the last, but tonight the empty conversations were wearing on him more than usual. So he resorted to staying in the VIP area behind the red ropes where no one else could attempt to approach him, and ironically enough he was now debating on if he should attempt to approach you. He felt guilty for it because he knew how it felt to not be left alone, having no one get the hint that you just wanted your privacy and it was yet another reason he kept himself out of your space.

He knew how that felt, and the same routine over and over again was exhausting. The initial spark of interest that quickly faded when they realized he wasn’t going to take the part of the flashy driver they expected him to play. Lando wasn’t interested in being just another notch in some random girls belt or a name to drop later to brag about with friends. And as he watched you fend off the advances of other guys with a self assured ease he only wished he could replicate, he felt a mix of curiosity and maybe just a hint of challenge spark within him. You already had something in common. So, what would it take to stand out to someone like you, who seemed to not care about a body to grind against or an arm to grab onto? Would you see right through all the superficial charm his title seemed to initially come with? 

He wasn’t the type to get nervous—at least not usually. He was a Formula 1 driver for god's sake, he could truly have any girl he pleased whenever he pleased, and he’d never really been rejected before either. But watching you so confidently handle every advance with a beaming smile that never seemed to falter had him second guessing himself. What if you really just weren’t interested? What if you were just looking for a quiet night with your friends, far from the eyes and hands of strangers? The last thing he wanted was to intrude on that and have to become just another guy you had to wave off.

But there was something in the way you laughed, something in the way your eyes danced under the lights as you moved your body with so much authority, that made it hard for him to look away and just forget about it. You were playing on his mind. Every time he turned back to focus on his mates, it was only a matter of time before he found himself leaning up against the banister and attending your curves with his greedy eyes once again. Lando wondered what that laugh you kept emitting would sound like up close and what those dark eyes would look like when they were focused on him, honed in on his sultry ones, attention directed at no one else. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized he really wanted to find out.

Still, lingering on the edge of the banister he hesitated, half-hidden by the shadowed alcove the VIP section seemed to provide, not confident in his chances of not being rejected. He hadn't even noticed it yet but Max had caught him staring for what must have been the hundredth time so far, and it was only when his best mate nudged him with a grin that he finally focused his whole attention on something other than you that night. “You gonna do something about that, or just stand there all night?”

The statement had Lando shaking his head and he swiftly threw a quick grin on his face, crossing his arms over his chest in hopes of playing the slight embarrassment of being caught off. “She’s not interested mate.” Lando replied, though even he had to admit the words sounded like an excuse even to his own ears.

Max rolled his eyes, the teasing glint in his gaze sharp. “You're a famous athlete mate.” But Lando’s face remained expressionless at the implications of his words, nothing but a quirk of an eyebrow in obvious contempt at his statement to express the disapproval he felt, and the act had Max laughing. “You’ll never know unless you try. What’s the worst that could happen? She says no? And you move on.” 

Max’s hand came up to slap the back of Landos neck, the jolt of the motion causing the contents of the cup in his right hand to slosh back and forth, spilling a bit of vodka redbull up the side of his arm where the slightest bit had stained the cuff of his white button up. Lando grimaced, sending a glare towards his best mate who only laughed at the irony of it all and turned away to continue dancing with P. 

“Be pissy all you want, but it’s me with the girlfriend, and you who’s struggling to talk to one girl at a club.”

And though he did not want to admit it, Lando knew Max was right, it just didn’t make it easier. Despite his extraverted tendencies, he was an introvert at heart and yes he had had his fair share of shy moments, sure, but this felt different. You felt different. Something about you drew him in so intensely and he just knew he had to at least try to talk to you. And yet, he could feel the moment slipping away, that small gap of confidence Max was pushing for closing, and he knew if he didn’t act soon he would go home regretting it.

Noticing the shift in expression, it was clear to Max that Lando was debating what his next move would be in that dense head of his, so he was sure to give his mate yet another nudge, one with just a little more force in hopes the pressure would translate into working brain cells in his skull. “Go on, Norris. She’s been turning dreary blokes away all night; maybe she’s waiting for someone who actually has something exciting to show for. And maybe a pair too.”

Lando let out a short laugh at his mates sharp words, shaking his head as the debate finally came to an end. “Fine, fine. I’m going.”

With one last glance at Max, who raised his drink in a mock salute, Lando finally pushed himself down the flight of stairs beyond the rope, his heart pounding a little harder as he threaded through the crowd with a slight hesitance, each step against the sticky ground bringing him closer to you in the middle of the dance floor. And even though a slurry of doubts still buzzed like an incessant drone in his mind, he couldn’t ignore that pull that had been drawing him toward you all night.

​​As he approached, his hazy vision grew attentive of how the lights seemed to illuminate the way your lips curled as you sang each lyric of the song you danced along with your friends to. Lando found himself wondering what it would take to make those lips curl at him for more then the few measly seconds you had given all the other striving men. There was something teasing about your smile, like you were in on a joke that the rest of the room wasn’t privy to and it urged his want to know more, maybe be in on that unspoken joke and coax that grin into something a little more personal, a little more directed at him.

As he walked, he used the time to think about what might catch your interest, what he might do or say to be the one to finally pull you from the lock your circle had on you tonight. Maybe it'd be a playful comment or a witty remark, or maybe it would just be the confidence to meet your gaze head on and see if you would hold it back. Just the idea of it sent a fragment of anticipation coursing through him, and he noticed that he was becoming less and less nervous as the thoughts began flowing, as if the thing pushing him forward was the thrill of the chase.

Soon enough he realized his legs had lead him to his newfound position directly behind you, and the moment he was close enough, he paused, watching with rapt attention as you swayed your hips to the beat with an almost mesmerizing precision, the movement of it all dragging your hair up and over your shoulder which consequently exposed the curve of your bare back to his hungry eyes. It was delightful to see. And almost a little intimidating because he found himself hesitating for just a second more.

There was something about you that made him want to get it right, to make sure he didn’t come off like just another guy with nothing to offer. The thought of misstepping, of him fumbling and you just brushing him off without a second thought like all the other times made his stomach twist with a nervousness he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He wasn’t used to this—this uncharacteristic overthinking and the knot in his stomach almost felt ridiculous considering he was someone who was more than used to high-stakes situations. Normally, he’d rely on instinct, a quick quip or a confident move to keep him propelling onwards, but you had him motionless; an unfamiliar feeling for a man who relied on always being in motion to stay alive; as they said, speed never killed anyone, it was suddenly becoming stationary that got you. And damn, you got him.

Just as he was about to settle on something even slightly choreographed in hopes to successfully pull your attention, one of your friends, the one directly in front which you had been dancing with, suddenly caught sight of him drawing in.

The girl didn’t say anything as Lando approached, but her eyes flickered up and over your shoulder from her spot, a motion that had her gaze locking onto his for a brief second and though it was an almost imperceptible movement, it sent a ripple of alarm coursing through the air. You had quickly taken notice of her redirected attention and he saw the way your posture slightly tensed, head turning just enough to glance back with curiosity and a hint of annoyance, as if you were already racking your brain in search of what you were gonna say this time to brush off yet another unwanted advance.

The moment hung in a balance between shock and acknowledgement, and for a split second, he considered maybe retreating, going back to his table with his tail tucked between his legs in defeat and letting you go on without disruption. But then he caught your eye, and something in your gaze—the flicker of what he thought may be recognition, or perhaps it was just surprise at seeing him so close—sparked the flame of courage he knew he needed.

Almost as soon as the moment happened, your expression shifted, your initial scowl softening into one of intrigue and he watched as your eyes traveled up and down his body shamelessly and boldly, taking the site of him in and he now couldn’t help but feel a little validated when you didn’t tell him to kick rocks. You didn’t turn away. Instead, you held his gaze with a teasing intensity and something akin to challenge, then slightly tilted your head as if assessing him, sizing him up with a mixture of amusement and intrigue swimming in your sultry eyes.

You were purposefully allowing your eyes to linger on him - he knew it, he could see it; eyeing him deliberately slow and taking in every detail with an almost tantalizing curiosity. He watched as your glossy lips curled into a provocatively pretty smile, as if you were daring him to make another move and now he was acutely aware of the way the club lights casted an alluring glow that highlighted the playful glint in your eyes. 

Frankly, your boldness had Lando weak. As hopeful as he was, he had truly expected a polite smile or a curt dismissal to be the outcome of his predicament, but instead, you held his gaze with a lightning look that had his pulse quickening. His heart felt as fast as it did when he was pushing his car over 300 kilometers an hour; and it was exhilarating. The way you held him in your gaze, combined with the effortless confidence in your stance created a tension that left him both exhilarated and a little breathless. It was a stark contrast to the usual, superficial attention he received which left him unsatisfied and bored, and it made this moment all the more intoxicating.

Your non verbal eye contact stretched for longer than he had anticipated in silence and it was like you were intentionally letting the seconds stretch, enjoying the play of power and allure you obviously held before finally, with a mischievous smirk, Lando watched as you leaned in slightly, your voice a low, teasing murmur. “Don’t worry, you’ve got my attention." Your voice was melodic. "Is that all you came here for?”

The question hung between you, heavy and provocative and Lando’s breath caught in his throat, a mix of surprise and exhilaration washing over him. With a playful glint in his eye and a hint of apprehension, he knew it was time to put one of his aforementioned plans into execution, and so he extended his hand toward you, palm face up, open and inviting. His eyes met yours in a silent challenge and an invitation rolled into one and the directness of your challenge lingered as he found himself stepping closer, the heat of your proximity almost too much to bear. 

“Apparently I'm the first of the night so I’d say it’s a pretty good start,” he said, his voice smooth. “Now, maybe I can direct your attention that way.” He beamed as your eyes followed his finger pointing off to the side, towards nothing particularly specific, but an obvious invitation to step away from your group and over somewhere private with him. His hand was a suggestion, one he was giving you the power of rejecting because he wasn’t trying to grab you like he’d seen a few others try. He was leaving the ball in your court, one he was silently begging you would pick up and throw back.

He watched as your eyes danced across the lines of his palm, your lip coming up to catch in between your teeth in what he could only assume was deliberation. The moment felt suspended, each second stretching longer as he awaited your decision because it was like he could see the gears turning in your mind, and it shook him to watch you hesitating. But then your hand came up to find his own; manicured fingers curling around his calloused ones, and Lando’s heart raced with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation at the fact that you hadn't turned him down, oh my god oh my god. He quickly took the opportunity to gently guide you away from your friends before you could--for some reason--have a change of heart, slipping through the crowd towards a quieter, privater corner of the dance floor where the music was still thumping, but the energy felt different here—more intimate, less eyes.

Now you were in the quieter space and he had you all to himself, and he could finally focus entirely on you with the assurance of knowing that you were fully focused on him now too. And so Lando turned to face you with a confident smile, one you quickly reciprocated and his hands soon found the place they had been itching to be all night; on your waist, feeling the warmth of your skin through the fabric of your little dress.

He was rapt when he felt you move closer to him, the vibrant thrum of the bass seeming to louden as the alcohol had his vision swaying. He watched with intensity as your body moved like water against his own and the contact felt charged, every subtle shift of your body against his sending a jolt of something through him, something he wished he could place but it almost felt ineffable. The way you pressed your body into his was both intoxicating and exhilarating, and it'd be stupid if you asked him if he noticed the way the curve of your body seemed to align perfectly with his because of course he did.

He was hypnotized by the sway of your hips, the gentle friction creating a heat that spread through him like wildfire and god, he really was trying to match your rhythm but each time you brushed up against him like that the heat had him losing focus and tripping over his tempo. Something you were acutely aware of apparently, as you glanced up at him, a playful glint in your eyes at how easily you knew you drew him in. Soon your hands were sliding up to rest lightly on his shoulders and now you two were so close, close enough that when you spoke, he could hear the smack of your gloss clearly despite the blaring of whatever afrobeat song had been playing.

“So all you wanted was to dance?”

He swallowed hard at your voice because it sounded like honey, and his pulse quickened when he tried to muster a response but the intensity of the moment was making it difficult to focus. And it took more energy than he'd like to admit, but he did managed to maintain a semblance of composure.

“Dance, yeah,” he swallowed, his voice a low murmur which was nearly drowned out by the intensity of the bass that rattled the floor. “And talk.” He chuckled softly, “You’re very alluring you know.”

Your smirk widened, eyes sultry with a confidence he found so attractive as you chuckled deeply. “I’ve been made aware.”

“Of course.” Lando shook his head, almost as if he was stupid to forget it. “You’ve had half the clubs clientele approach you tonight.” 

And for the first time tonight, Lando saw just a glimpse of what he thought to be bashfulness gleam through your features, your smile timid as you bit your lip. “Yeah, well, no ones really interested me.” You replied, body sliding just a little closer to his own if it were even possible at this point and he very quickly took this as an opportunity to slide his hands just a little lower on your hips, biting his lips with a smirk at your words. 

“And yet here we are.” His own words were rich with confidence on his lips.

“And yet here we are.” You reiterated with a smirk of your own, the site warm against the cold atmosphere of the club air.

There was a part of him that thought maybe he shouldn't question it in fear of finding something he didn't necessarily want to know, but the drunker part of him-- the less rational, more curious part --was gleaming to know why. "Care to share why that is?" The smirk your wore was devilish, “Maybe I’m just picky,” you teased, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “Or maybe I’m just waiting for someone who can actually hold a decent conversation.”

Lando grinned, clearly amused. “Oh, so you’re saying the bar is set pretty high tonight?”

“Something like that,” you replied, leaning in slightly, your voice playful. “But I’m open to being impressed if you’d like me to lower it for you.”

He scoffed loudly at your words, an action that had your head tilting back in a boastful laugh, a laugh he quickly found himself mimicking as his eyes simultaneously trailed up the length of your glistening neck which he quicky realised how badly he wanted to put his mouth on. You were enthralling, and he knew it wasn’t the alcohol making him think like this because everyone else seemed to agree, and yet you were here with him out of all the men who had approached you, and apparently that was an unbiased decision. You seemed genuinely interested in getting to know him without any pretense. The lack of recognition was oddly comforting; and it felt like he was actually connecting without any of the usual pressures or expectations his title came with.

For a moment you both had just let the beat take over again, no verbal conversation present, only the sway of your movements as you let your bodies do all the talking for you. It was loud, speaking all the sensual things your tongues were just a little too uncoordinated to say right now because of the pulsing alcohol in your veins. The heat between you two was palpable and Lando made notable effort to maintain his composure, but it was a challenge when paired with the sensation of your skin; of his hands guiding your ass hips, and of your hands wrapped in his hair locked around his neck. And as good as your lower body felt against his thigh, he really needed to see the way your hips were grinding against his pants. And so Lando pulled away just slightly enough so he could glance down between you, to watch your tantalizing figure in that tight backless dress he was beginning to adore rolling on him, back and forth, back and forth, side to side, left to right. Fuck, you were a master with your body and it was irresistible.

Becoming so captivated by the precision in your movement, he had almost missed the frantic cheer of someone from across the room and it took a moment, but nevertheless, Lando caught sight of Max’s watchful gaze from the edge of the VIP section with P in the corner of his eye, Max fixed on the two of you with a look of amused encouragement.

The noise made Lando’s eyes widen slightly, and as subtly as he could, he shot a quick, exasperated look at Max, rolling his pupils in a silent command for him to mind his own business. The gesture had Max’s smirk widening as he turned to P, just about grabbing her face but not quite doing so, more like hovering besides it, before theatrically pretending to mack on with her, clearly egging his best mate on. Lando shook his head in disapproval, but he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t laugh just a little as he pulled his attention back towards you, hoping you hadn’t noticed.

With a playful smirk, you leaned in closer, and it took Lando by welcoming surprise at the change in pace from Max's stupidity as your lips slightly brushed against his ear, “So, is this how you charm everyone, or am I just lucky tonight?”

Your voice was like ice to his body, but in the best way he could imagine, like a shock to the Pavlov'ed routine of every other sensual encounter he had with a stranger. His breath caught, a mix of surprise and excitement flooding him as he chuckled low, the sound barely audible over the music. “Why’d you ask?”

“Because it seems like your mate over there knows the drill.” You smirked teasingly.

Landos eyes widened, head shaking as he silently cursed his dumbass of a best friend for being such a dickhead. Of course the only person to nearly fuck this up would be the idiot who encouraged him to go for it in the first place. Max is lucky you took the gesture as lighthearted and didn’t immediately jump to conclusions at the possible implications it could have, otherwise he would have woken up tomorrow with blisters from having to walk back to his place. “Yeah well, Max has a way of making everything about him,” Lando found himself replying with a strained chuckle. “Don’t let him steal your attention at his stupidity, he’s just trying to rile me up. I’m more interested in what you think.”

The way you tilted your head slightly was alluring, lips curling into a playful smile as you assessed him with flirty eyes. “And what is it you’re hoping I’ll think?”

Lando’s arms which were wrapped around your waist, suddenly pulled backwards, drawing you just a little closer to him as his voice dropped to a teasing whisper. “That maybe this night could get even better if we continue it somewhere a bit quieter.”

It was a very fast gesture, but suddenly, Lando was hyper aware of the way you had arched yourself away from his body, his grip consequently loosening up a little to allow you the room to execute the movement without hurting yourself. It was as if your whole body had tensed up, your expression shifting to one of surprise, one Lando was evidently taken aback by as you raised an accusing eyebrow at him. “Wait who says I’m going anywhere with you?” Your voice was light but edged with something Landos intoxicated brain just couldn’t really conceptualize right now, especially with the bubbling panic that was rising within his body at your reaction. Had he misread the vibe? Maybe misread the situation entirely?

He was almost certain you had been sending him the same lustful signals as he was, batting your lashes and biting your lip like you would have if you were reciprocating the mannerisms he knew he was sending you. But now the confidence he had in the surety he felt earlier seemed to evaporate as fast as the doubt seemed to creep in. He was certain you were into him, but now he was questioning if he had perhaps overstepped a boundary and actually offended you. Maybe your gestures were more innocent then he thought, maybe he had taken your kindness for lust. The uncertainty was making him falter and he quickly found himself scrambling to justify his words, and clear the tension.

“Wait, I—” Lando started, his tone steady but laced with a hint of hesitation. “I didn’t mean to come off like that.” His voice was airy and a little far, trying to piece together what he could have missed in hopes to reverse the offense you displayed. 

But you cut him off with a sharp glance and a small, teasing smile that seemed to hide something beneath, “Do you want me to leave with you tonight?” Your words were way less accusatory and much more stated as a genuine, flirty question, your voice a mix of challenge and curiosity, and it was here that the edge Landos brain couldn’t make sense of earlier began to click in place.

His breath caught in his throat as you leaned into him again, closing the distance you had created a second ago, your whisper carrying a playful edge. For a moment, Lando’s mind raced, trying to decipher whether your reaction was a subtle pushback or if he had genuinely misread the chemistry between you and the anxiety that had crept into his chest began to ebb away as he soon realized that your teasing wasn’t an affront but rather a playful test of his intentions.

He watched as your expression softened, the corners of your mouth curling into a mischievous smile, white teeth gleaming up at him with a charm he found undeniably attractive. The realization hit him like a truck—the realization that this wasn’t your way of rejecting him but instead a flirtatious push on your end, you were winding him up and seeing how far you could stir him because you liked watching him squirm. The tension that had wound its way around him moments ago quickly began unraveling, replaced with a surge of relief that was both profound and slightly embarrassing, and he found himself biting his lip to hide the red tinge rising to his cheeks. 

Your voice was ringing in his ears, playing like a loop as he thought about your words, Do you want me to leave with you tonight? Does he want you to? Silly question, that is. And he soon paired the bite of his lip with a bashful smile, quickly nodding his head at your question.

His response had you tilting your head, your smirk widening as suddenly, once again, you leaned in closer, your hands sliding back up to their position behind his neck with a confident, yet teasing touch. The proximity of your body against his sent a shiver down his spine, and he felt he could almost see through your large eyes as you spoke. “Okay then, I have one request,” you said, voice dropping to a whisper that carried a hint of both mischief and promise.

Lando’s brow quirked up in question and suddenly the weight of your fingers on the back of his neck grew a lot heavier as you used it to propel yourself forward, pushing against him until your head was right by his head, no height to separate you anymore; and your lips pressed up onto the skin of his ear. Your tippytoes extended you up taller than you were before, and Lando would have wondered how that was even possible considering how high your heels already were if your proximity wasn’t causing a hard reset to his system. His senses heightened ten fold when he felt your warm breath against his ear, but it was ultimately the words you whispered that really had his breath halting. “You better walk as fast as you drive.”

What?

It was like the world around him collapsed as he tried to process the implications of your sentence; the implication that you had known exactly who he was this entire time. Your words had caught him so off guard, because here he was thinking you were simply just a captivating stranger but not only did you recognize him, he realized that you had been testing him all along. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one doing that?!

This unexpected twist made his head spin and it all really felt like whiplash as he tried to make sense of the way you had managed to play him so well. You had been testing his attitude, seeing if he'd slip up and act like a pompously famous asshole in order to lure you in. It was frankly insulting and yet so entirely attractive, it was intoxicating. 

He was so taken aback by it all, but not as taken aback as he was when he had suddenly felt you pull away from him, the absence of your lips from his ear, of your hands from his neck and your body from his body slapping him right back into reality and he couldn't help how pathetic he felt when he actually began panicking at the sudden distance. He could feel his heart pounding so insanely hard when you turned on your heels, and blinked blankly as you began to saunter away.

He watched as you hips swayed with a captivating grace that made your departure somehow both so assertive and yet strangely alluring, leaving Lando momentarily frozen with wide eyes blended in an assortment of shock and lust. 

He couldn’t decipher the swirl of emotions inside him. His head was reeling, caught between the surprise of your words and the intensified attraction he felt towards the view of your hips swaying while you left him in your dust.

He knew he looked like a fool. His jaw lack, was basically sweeping the ground and his eyes had to be as wide with shock as they could possibly be. As you moved through the crowd, Lando’s gaze was locked on your figure, watching you gracefully weave your way through the mess of dancing people without effort and he just couldn't even conceptualize how you were so coordinated with your teasing. 

For a good moment, he really wasn’t entirely sure of what to do next, what he was supposed to do now that you had made your hit and run. His eyes slowly turned to catch the perplexed ones of Max, still watching with P from beyond the banister as his friend noticed the girl Lando had been with, walking away. Lando must look like a goddamn muppet, standing there shocked and alone replaying youre words like a mantra. Walk as fast as he drives?

…Huh?

Lando’s expression remained as bewildered as earlier, and as shocked as he knew he looked, he was curious as to if Max could see the lust now coursing through his eyes too. Walk?

He could barely contain his arousal as his vision grew a little less foggy and everything started becoming a little clearer, finally his brain seeming to click back into action, and he endured in real time as the initial shock morphed into a burning determination. Fast?

It had to be the rush of emotions from surprise to heightened attraction that ultimately propelled him into action, his mind officially snapping back to present time….Oh? Shaking off the daze that had settled over him, he was no longer just an observer in his body but now a man on a mission.

Oh!

His head snapped back just in time to watch as you threw your hair behind your shoulder, covering up the glistening skin of your back, the back he had his hands all over just moments ago and now he knew, more then aware that you were in control, you had been the entire time.

He couldn’t wait anymore, you were obviously the governing power here and something about that didn't turn Lando off like he felt it usually would have with any one else, in fact, it burned a primal need for more deep within his chest.

So without hesitation Lando found himself rushing through the brunt of the crowd head on. To anyone watching, it was clear his gaze was fixated on nothing but your sauntering form, evident by the multitude of people he clumsily bumped and brushed into along his way. But the way you moved with such sensual grace, hips swaying in a manner that was both hypnotic and assertive, made it utterly impossible for him to look anywhere but at you. Every step you took was an alarming reminder to the cards of gold you held, and he was intent on closing that distance.

Now completely clear of the dance floor, Lando watches as you glance over your shoulder, checking to see if he had bitten the bait and followed your retreating figure, and you were quick to catch his eye with a smirk when you confirmed what you knew he would do. It was a look of challenge and triumph, as if you really did know that it was an absolute no brainer for him, because of course he was going to follow you.

And the moment your eyes met, a playful spark ignited in his chest, fueling his urgency, something you made quick note of as your smirk widened, clearly amused by his pursuit. And it only spurred him on faster because how was this for fast?

It took him only seconds to catch up to you, and the moment he was in range, his hands took firm grasps of your round hips, pulling you just slightly back so that his front was flush against your back, but not forcefully enough that he disturbed your saunter towards the exit, a path he was now very intently guiding you towards with his hands fast just like he guided the car he drove fast, because god he had never wanted to lay someone down on his bed so desperately in his life. He needed to knock that smirk off your face and show you just how much control he could have too. He was not going to waste anymore time in getting you in his car parked outside.

And yeah Max may have not completely fucked it for him, but it looked like he was gonna be walking home regardless.

[jujubieberbae]

PAY YOUR DEBT

Lando Norris x Driver!Reader 7.6K words

Summary: Lando's Austrian crash could not have come at a worse time, and now he's scrambling to find someone to replace him in the upcoming Quadrant video. He's so lucky you care, and that you're horrible at lying. Or in which, reader takes Lando's place during Quadrants; 'Spill Your Guts', and they manage to pull some interesting information out of her.

Childhood Friends to Lovers, Pining, Slowburn

Despite never having met you, the Quadrant cast was more than familiar with your name purely based on a few reasons. The first being that, you were of course, a famous Formula 1 driver, beloved by many for your strong driving style on track and easy going personality off it. The second factor being their own proximity with another famous Formula 1 driver who just so happened to be your Mclaren teammate. 

For years now, they’ve watched from a distance. They’ve seen your interviews and watched your races and they maybe must admit, they were a little beyond awestruck of you; going as far as quietly cheering you on during race weekends. Beyond that though, their familiarity extends past their parasocial concept of you. In fact your name is brought up quite often between the air of the Quadrant team, and a substantial part of the reason being due to Lando’s inability to refrain from talking about you. The constant utterance of your name is something the Quadrant cast is beyond accustomed to. They can’t necessarily blame him for it entirely, as much as they like to roll their eyes when the syllables of your name extend past his lips once more. People tend to talk about the things they spend the most time around, and naturally, with you two being teammates and all, it isn’t all that strange for him to speak about you. And when they consider the fact that your history with Lando does not just begin at F1, but actually stems extensively further than that, it’s hard to be mad at him when he brings you up. You two did grow up carting together after all, essentially entering every stage of your careers with the other. His reason for spending all that time with you was sensical; you were childhood friends.

Except they had also spent a lot of time with Lando. Yeah, you worked with him but so did they, and they knew he didn’t just talk about you because he saw you a lot. They knew he didn’t just talk about you because you both grew up swerving along the same tracks or because you now wore the same bright papaya color.

The man so obviously liked you and they all knew it. He spoke about your smile way too often to not, and he certainly got way too prideful whenever he recounted stories of being the one to bring it out. Putting it simply, not a single person on the team has ever spoken to you; has ever even made eye contact with you before, and yet somehow each one could articulate the way your eyes crinkled tight when you laughed hard and how your lips pursed hard when you found something funny but didn't want to show it.

Lando’s perception of you was so beyond platonic. They all knew it even if he always dodged the question. 

For this reason, the Quadrant cast has been begging to meet you for years. Eager to see the woman who's apparently captured the man's eyes, despite his insistence to the contrary. They just have to meet the girl that’s managed to sweep their boss right from off his feet, clean under his heels; but, you were such an iconic driver they kind of just really wanted to meet you anyways. They would never tell Lando that though.

Their efforts have not entirely fallen on deaf ears, however, in fact, Lando has been trying to get you on a Quadrant video since he founded the damn company. Begging and begging for nearly 4 years on end just to receive the same dismissive glare.

“One day, Lando. Not today.” 

He’s starting to think one day is no day at all. Not today is everyday. But you’ve been in the spotlight nearly your entire life, and it’s not often that you get to spend time alone, away from the prying eyes and ears of the media. The little peace you do find is treasured and the idea of spending your precious private time filming yet another video for millions to perceive you with has never been too appealing. And as much as you loved Lando, you loved your down time just a little more sometimes. 

Besides, you always saw Lando, you didn’t always see your privacy.

But... this time he was stressing, and you could see it. He was supposed to film a Quadrant video this week. Finally home in London for this week’s Grand Prix, at last, he was able to put a little more effort into his personal brand. It was one of the very few times a year he was able to participate in the creative side of the business. The whole video had been planned, written, set up and was ready to be shot. The date was set, it was finally coming together. But then Lando crashed. He crashed in Austria and now his work at Mclaren had essentially been doubled for Silverstone week and he had no time to film. And now all the week’s worth of effort put into preparing the video had just gone down the drain. It was going to be yet another spill your guts video, where the Quadrant team were going to ask each other a bunch of questions, in which they could either answer it or dodge it with a less than favorable choice of near inedible food items, and a lot of the questions were focused on Lando and his job.

Now with last week's events disrupting this week's schedule, they were going to have to rewrite all the questions and find someone to fill Landos spot.

And so you’d watched him for the past few days on calls, asking around to see who could be available on such short notice. Between his team of producers, the other members of Quadrant and possible candidates for the video, on top of the copious amounts of obligations he had at the Mclaren headquarters, you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty knowing you were spending all the current free time you had between track work lounging around the Hilton pool. You technically had no reason not to help. You vehemently knew that changing the script wouldn’t be an easy task with the little time they had. Bringing you to fill in meant they would have their empty spot filled and they wouldn’t need to tweak the script as much. You were a driver too, the questions they would have asked Lando still mostly applied to you as well. And you knew it’d do Lando such a huge favor; lift such a massive weight off his already heavy shoulders so he could run around Mclaren focusing on what actually mattered most this week - getting his car ready for the upcoming race.

And so you did it. You smiled so kindly at Lando on that faithful Wednesday afternoon and so calmly announced that if he was struggling to find a replacement, you’d be happy to help him out just this once. It was finally ‘one day’. You would take the spot on Quadrant.

Landos face had never expressed so much surprise yet simultaneous relief. And it only took a matter of moments from the last words uttered out of your mouth for Landos arms to reach entirely around your waist and your feet to leave the ground. You found a few questioning glares being sent your way from a couple Mclaren engineers in the garage, but the breath struggling to find its way to your lips at the force of it all left you unbothered. “Y/n you legend, thank you so much, you don’t understand how much this helps me out! I owe you so bad.” 

You would never say it to him, but his smile in that moment had almost paid his debt entirely right then and there. All the nerves and doubt about the decision you just made had nearly swept right by as you watched his face light with adoration. But instead you sent him a defeated grin as he placed you down on your heels. “I’m gonna hold you to your words. I better not regret this.”

“You won't, I swear.”

__ Regret this you will. As soon as the quadrant team had received the call that in his place, F1 driver and CEO Lando Norris’ fellow teammate would instead be filling in for his absence, they immediately knew this wouldn’t be the video everyone was anticipating. They would take this opportunity to finally squeeze out the information they had been waiting to know for years. It was their first time ever meeting you, ever speaking to you, and honestly, there were probably fewer people who knew Lando as well as you, so this was a gold's mine worth of an opportunity. Not only would they be able to ask you questions about your life as an F1 driver, they could also ask you questions about your romantic life as an F1 driver, specifically about your relationship with Lando, a topic you never answered straight anywhere else. But this video was the perfect setting. They would have a polygraph on set, and you were doing Lando a favor. You couldn’t leave and most importantly, you couldn’t lie.

Was it a bit unethical? Maybe. Was it manipulative? Perhaps. Had Lando already told them he’d cut their pay if they fucked with you. Absolutely. But he’d be fine once he hears what you would inevitably say. He could thank them after they got you to confess the crush you just had to have on Lando. 

Now they didn't know that for a fact, nor did they know you and you were great at keeping your private life away from the media.

Many bold journalists looking for a story have already asked if you've ever had feelings for anyone on the grid. You always denied ever liking any fellow drivers and keep adamant that your driving and personal lives stay separate. Everyone knew you viewed your career as strictly professional, and your teammates - whilst all close friends - were essentially coworkers when it came to romance. But they had Lando as a second source, and from everything the man had explained, there was no way you weren't at least a little into him. And they were gonna get it out of you.

So here you were, staring at a set full of very enthusiastic YouTubers, all beyond eager to be sharing a table with the phantom of a woman they had been hearing about for almost 4 years now.

Not only were you a talented and beloved motorsports athlete, you were the girl their mate Lando liked.

As a friend, they were curious, but as youtubers, they were out for blood. And if there's one thing a group of Youtubers were going to do, it was get you to admit your deepest darkest secrets for online content. There would be no filling, only spilling, they'd be sure of that.

Oblivious as you were, despite how nervous you initially felt about participating in the video, it had been smooth sailing so far along. Everyone was nice enough and you could see why Lando enjoyed the company of these people, they were all quite funny after all, and the questions were not the absolutely mood draining, boundary crossing time wasters you were used to receiving.

Maybe this wouldn’t be all that bad.

The table settled from their laughter as Ria finally swallowed whatever it was she had been forced to bite into. Bull testicles? You didn’t want to know, and honestly it didn’t really matter all that much anymore because for the third time round, it was your turn again, and you were now being strapped up to the Polygraph machine.

Max Fewtrell's eyes sparked with a menacing joy as they locked with your own. He was hosting this video, meaning he was safe from the contents of the table, but more importantly, he got to interrogate the girl his best mate was into. He was the only person that knew this for a fact due to the multitude of conversations Lando has had with him in private, begging for advice on what to do. As bad as he felt about it, Max could never give Lando a straight answer, he didn’t know his fellow driver, didn’t know what it was she felt, and if she truly meant what she was saying in her interviews, it wasn’t looking too good for his friend.

This was finally his opportunity to help out.

“Y/n…” His voice carried menacingly around the room, dragging out each syllable to draw the suspense. You eyed him playfully, keeping your guard up as his eyes flicked from you to the card in his hand and then back up to you a few times. The last few questions had been relatively tame, all relating to your job; who your favorite team really was, who you disliked the most on the grid, (you'd had your fair few arguments with Stroll, but you bit into an 1000 year old egg because you were not going to admit it.)

A part of you hoped they were giving you easy questions because you were a guest - a good friend of Landos at that, but at the back of your mind you knew better. And that’s why when the question escaped Max’s lips, you really didn’t feel all that surprised. “Do you really mean it when you say you like to keep your professional life and your private life separate?”

Simple enough, but you were smart enough to know the implications of the question, so you hesitated. “... Yes.”

A pause, no buzz. “That’s true.” Ethan comments.

“Okay that’s too easy, let me rephrase it.” Max’s gaze bore straight into your own. “Do you really mean it when you say you don’t see any of the boys on the grid as like, candidates? You don’t find any of them attractive?”

The groan that escaped you was so inherently guttural you hadn’t even noticed you made the noise. Everyone laughed at your reaction and it seemed so light hearted, but inside your mind was beginning to race, heartbeat speeding up as if the peddle was full throttle. This was not what you wanted.

You had felt a bit uneasy once finding out a polygraph machine would be present, and crossed your fingers that the team wouldn’t get into the topic of your romantic ties with the boys on the grid. You guess your luck didn't really extend past the track. Overall, no ideas of the other drivers had the question sparking fear within you. You really did have no romantic ties with anyone, the others truly were just friends, boys you grew up with, some like brothers. None of the boys had ever made your eyes wander, or ever had your heart skipping beats when you made eye contact. There wasn’t a single driver you could think of that had ever made you nervous or left you hoping for anything more than just a friendship. No one except that one boy. That one stupid boy that had led you into this goddamned position in the first place. That one stupid boy who’s mates were all gathered around the table with eager eyes directed entirely towards you, waiting for an answer. This was truly your worst nightmare. Maybe you did like Lando, maybe the moment had awoken within your days in F2; seeing him grow from the scrawny kid on the track to something else entirely. So what of it? No one needed to know that. Curse you and your incessant want to help that stupid boy through his stress. Why did he need to make you care about him enough to do this? Now, you could ‘fill your guts' if you really wanted to, but with a yes or no question like this, no answer is just as much an answer in itself. You had watched this game enough to know how it worked, and so you opted to take your chances against the polygraph machine. “Yes I mean it.” One phrase. A simple phrase muttered through a guilty smile, and yet you could hear your heart through your ribs as you told the lie and it was so, so silent after that. The anticipation felt like the devil himself had engulfed the room in its glory. The faces at the table had your palms sweating further and Ginge’s ability to hold such intense eye contact left you wondering if there was more to this than it seemed. God, was this the longest 3 seconds of your life. But you were good under pressure. If you can keep your heart steady driving at 350 kilometers an hour, you could keep your heart steady enough to lie your way out of this question-

Beep.

And suddenly the room was ablaze with noise, yelling and screaming as everyone expressed their disbelief yet absolute excitement at the answer. Incoherent sentences thrown your way one on top of the other but your brain couldn’t decipher a single sentence, instead engulfed in the thought of how much this would change the way all the boys spoke to you, how Lando spoke to you, now that they knew you did like someone. You could already hear Danny’s teasing voice followed up by his sly, all knowing smirk. Fuck. Was it too late to back out? Maybe you could bribe Lando into deleting the footage. 

But as you glanced forward into Max’s eyes, and you saw the silent omniscient smirk that trickled on to his face - like the calm amidst the chaos - you knew there was no going back. You were cooked. Your face fell into the palm of your hands, sheepish laughs slipping past your lips as you spoke in a slow, bashful tone, “No! It’s-.. It’s not like that!” But damage control is useless when the damage is already done. “Oh really?!” Ginges thick accent was next to echo across the room over top all the others, “Cause it seems like you’ve been secretly canoodling with some fast bastards and lying to all us about it!”

Ethan was the first to laugh, and soon everyone else's laughter followed suit, and as defeated as you felt a loud chuckle slipped past your lips at the comment. At the very least they were being funny about it and not trying to make such a big deal.

For now they couldn't prove anything. Once you admitted it there was no going back, so you figured you might as well double down. . “No- like, okay; the boys are good looking, they're attractive but that doesn't mean I necessarily like any of them. I grew up with these boys, you know, they’re like brothers to me. Your machine is definitely bugging out or something.”

“Nah, I think it’s working fine.” The reintroduction of Max’s voice had the room settling once again. It seemed all the quadrant members were on the edge of their seats, like they had been anticipating this the whole time. It almost was like they were, no- 1

“But if you’re sure it’s not working properly, I can try asking a different question, rephrase it a little better for you. In fact, we have a little tradition here!” Max’s eyes gazed through the camera as he spoke. “The guest has to answer the last question and rules are no eating on the last round.” Now his eyes turned to you, “Truth’s only, so you have to answer.”

You were just moments away from opening your mouth to protest, the words at the tip of your tongue; No thanks it’s fine,’ or even just a ‘I’ve already answered two questions, it’s not my turn anymore.’ as childish as it was. But the words were never able to slip past your overly gnawed on lips before your heart was sinking to the absolute pits of your stomach. “Who do you like on the grid and why is it Lando?”

Panic. “God! No- no it’s not Lando!” Deny. “Definitely, not Lando!” Deny.

The polygraph machine was silent for a moment as everyones eyes flickered over to the screen, and you endured the tension in real time as your forehead came down, lips pursing. And yet nothing came, no beeping sound to be heard. 

To this all the boys are silent, and Ria’s eyes flicker up to Max as the man furrows his brows down. There was no way they managed to make the driver inadvertently admit she liked someone, just for it to not be Lando. She had to like him. All the stories Lando told him, all the words she spoke to him repeated back to Max, all the looks Lando was adamant he observed. All the nights clubbing, celebrating their wins together in videos Max himself saw. Her hands would travel just a little too far up, or her eyes would hold his just a little too long. It had to be Lando. He knows it.

“Okay, okay fair enough. Then I'll ask again, more direct. Y/n, do you like Lan-”

You knew the flaring panic in your eyes was not doing much to help your case, neither were your next words, but by the grace of god, or maybe his pity, that machine didn't beep despite your lie and you had just been handed an out, and lord be damned if you weren't going to capitalize on that inconclusive result. “Wait!” 

You need to be smart about this. You needed to give them something they wanted whilst not giving them everything. A little sacrifice to spare a lifetime of embarrassment, and probably a long and testing conversation between you and Lando. “How about I take one bite of every single thing on this table, chew and swallow instead.” Your eyes held so much hope, pleading for an out but Max only laughs at your soft little doe eyed expression and you couldn't help but frown. 

“Okay, but that’d be so funny.” Ria’s laugh suddenly bit the air, and you had to silently thank her for subverting the attention elsewhere for a moment.

“Man, I wouldn’t do that for no one, especially not for Lando. Are you sure you don’t like him y/n?” You knew Niran was joking but god did his comment make your hands sweat. Calm down.

Max shrugged, ignoring the remarks of his fellow Quadrant members. “Rules are rules, can’t eat your way out of the last question, you have to answer.”

You have to think fast. “...Okay, well…" Hm. "How about this?” It’s the only thing you can think of on the fly, but maybe it’ll work. “I’ll tell you the details, but- I won’t mention any names. So you get to know the whens and what’s, without knowing the who’s." Your laugh was light hearted, though it sounded more nervous than humorous.

A silence suddenly engulfed the room, eyes darting back and forth as the people on the table thought over the offer. In fact the room was so silent, you felt you could hear the gears turning in their heads and you couldn’t help but feel your heart rate speed up just a little more at the prospect. These people were essentially marketing geniuses. They were youtubers whose jobs it was to get as many views as possible. Whatever the decision, you knew it wasn’t about to be in your favor, but about what favored Quadrant as a brand. You were no good at marketing - you drove fast cars even faster for god sake, but damn if you didn’t hope your idea was good enough for them. 

Ginge’s voice was the first to sound. “Nah, nah, stop trying to change the conversation speedy gonzales, you think ‘cause you’re a bloody F1 driver you can- you can bend the rules!? It may slide over there princess but it ain’t gonna slide ‘ere.” His finger pointed down into the table with a glare that almost felt real and you were really trying to think but now you were laughing. 

So was everyone else apparently, because it took you a moment to hear Steve’s smooth voice through all the noise, “Alright, but we’re already putting the girl through a lot.” Then finally Max spoke again. He was really starting to feel like the governing power here, “Okay hear me out. Names are easy to find when you have a story. We get the story and then we evaluate.” His eyes bore directly at you, laughing as he spoke. Max knew with whatever story you told, he could just go right to Lando and together they could eventually connect the dots. He wasn’t trying to out you to everyone… just to Lando.

After a moment of deliberation Aarav spoke, “All agreed?” To which everyone seemed to nod in agreement.

Max nodded his head. “Alright Y/n, you win. In that case, this guy you like-” 

“-I don’t like him-” “-How long are we talking?... This guy you like.” The last comment had a playful laugh leaving your lips as you brought your nail to your mouth. He was purposefully pushing you.

Your lips, previously curled into a smile, had now pursed at the question. “I don’t like him.” You reiterate. “It was like a small little crush if anything.”

“Was it recent?” Max questioned. “No, god it was years ago.”

Beep. Fuck, you completely forgot about the Polygraph. You could ring that stupid things neck. Come on, man throw me a bone or something. Max smiled at the revelation, glancing over at Ria as she spoke through her smirk. “Must be more than just a small little crush if your heart beat is rising at the thought of him.” To this, your head hung low as your laugh sounded. “I plead the fifth.”

You couldn’t even imagine how you would look to any viewers at home once this came out. They had well and truly cornered you here. 

“Well this isn’t a bloody democracy now is it, this is an ambush.” You're very right Ginge this really is an ambush, you thought. There might be no escaping this one.

“When did you first notice you liked this person?” Ria was determined to keep the conversion on track. This is the most anyone had ever gotten out of you regarding your love life, and it being about another driver? Potentially Lando?! They were so close to what they wanted. You were silent for a moment, assessing the people staring on with anticipation. You’d only ever told this story to two people, your mom and your best friend. Were you really about to expose it to the world? The polygraph strapped to your chest said you were. 

“I-... I first felt it a couple years back.” Compliance. They got you.

“How far back we talking?” Max questioned.

“I don’t know…” your eyes flickered up at him. “Maybe early F2 days?” Ria’s eyes just about bugged out of her head as you answered, hands coming down onto the table with a gasp. “That’s like over 5 years ago!” Her reaction had you groaning, face turning a shade red enough to match the ferraris you race against as you sunk down into your seat. “No, I need to know! There had to have been a moment you felt it! Because you had been racing with these boys for years! There has to be a moment of clarity, or was it like, progressive? Or-?”

“It- It was definitely progressive in some ways but I do remember the moment it kind of.. hit me.”

“Was it sudden?”

“So sudden.” You laughed. “Tell us!” It felt strange to engage in this conversation, you had sworn to yourself that no one else would ever hear about the feelings you had buried away for years now. Was it better to speak or to die? That truly was the question… But, It was out now, everyone knew you had feelings for one of your teammates; at least one of your F2 ones. What more harm could the details afflict? Besides you’d raced against a multitude of drivers in your F2 career, many of which never even made it to the current F1 grid so the chances of anyone guessing who you were even talking about had to be slim. Speak it was. 

“We were-” The observant eyes of the Quadrant members beamed on at you as you bit your lip in deliberation, but the debate in your brain was finally over, and so you took a breath in.

“We were in between seasons beforehand, so I hadn’t really seen the boys in a few months. And I remember walking into one of the common rooms, where a bunch of the boys were all sitting around before the race, and again, I hadn’t seen these boys for quite a bit.” Your hands moved with every word you spoke, “And the thing about the F2 is that, we were all about 17 to 18 right, so most of the boys had already had their growth spurts, puberty and all that… except for this one guy.” Your eyes were bright as you recalled the memory, a laugh chasing the ends of your lips as the table fell silent.

“And at this rate - in my 17 year old brain - the only thing that ever really mattered to me was racing. Like I could genuinely have cared less about boys and relationships and all that, I’d never had a boyfriend and I was so disinterested in it. To me these boys were my friends off track and my competitors on, nothing in between. So I remember seeing everyone I hadn't seen for while and not really thinking much of it. But then my eyes kind of looked on and… noticed.. him.” God that sounds so corny but you were trying to be inconspicuous, not give away too many details. It wasn’t working.

“Him?” Max smirked. 

“Him.”  You doubled down. “The person.” You glared as a light laugh sounded. “He had always been a bit more on the smaller side, I guess? A 'late bloomer.'” The phrase came to you. “And I don’t know what the fuck happened in those four months we were away but god did puberty hit that motherfucker like a truck.” This time the laughter was a lot louder and you leant back, suddenly a little more comfortable now that the weight had been lifted off your chest. “It was like, he had gone from this scrawny little kid everyone used to pick on to this… man in the blink of an eye and my brain could not comprehend it.”

“Moment of clarity.” Ria laughed and you laughed alongside her.

“No really! Like that’s really what it felt like. I remember hugging everyone because I hadn’t seen them in so long, but when it came to this guy, I just, like- stared and nodded at him and he gave me the weirdest look cause I'd never done that before!” Your voice was thick with embarrassment as you chuckled, and everyone joined in your laughter. Then you stuck up your pointer finger. “But it gets worse.” You swallowed. “So my brain’s already kind of short circuiting in that moment but then he just goes on, puts his hands down and takes off his shirt-”

“What?!” Ethan yelled. 

“Because they always would! They would change around the paddock all the time! It’s so common, they still do it, and I never, ever thought anything of it, like it never phased me. But this one time, when he just lifted his shirt over his head and I was already feeling things I’d never felt before, I was already confused, and oh my god. I don’t know what happened to me.”

Once again the table was booming with laughter. “No, it was so bad. Definitely one of my worst moments because it got to the point where one of the boys; no names - had to smack me alongside the head and tell me to stop glaring.”

Max’s eyes lit up as he heard the last part. “Wait, people noticed?” “Not people, just the one, I think. If anyone else did, they never said anything.”

“Huh.” Max nodded. “And you don’t feel this way anymore?”

The word came without hesitance, “No,” you shook your head.

Beep.

Max had just found his jackpot moment. He had the information he needed.

What a week it had been. Between the guilt of Austria, the subsequent frantic Mclaren schedule leading up to Silverstone and the stress of the Quadrant video, Lando felt he could truly take his first breath of fresh air knowing at least one of those problems was officially resolved. 

The day was nearing its end meaning you were probably just about done filming with his crew and were likely headed back to the hotel for some well deserved rest before a hectic day of simulation practice and debriefing tomorrow.

He knows he has already done it 1000 times over, but he really needed to thank you for the favor you did him this week. No matter how much you spoke of all free time you had, he knew you were really just as busy with race prep, it wasn’t the simple ‘schedule squeeze’ you had made it out to be and he was more than grateful.

“What time did you say Y/n was coming back?” Charles’ voice rang loud throughout the room as his eyes flickered up from his phone. A few of the boys had decided to spend a not so usual night in Max's hotel room sharing a few drinks. Camaraderie and all that, especially after the tension of last week.

“She should be finishing up now.”

“Is she coming back here?” Charles continued, still glancing between his phone and Lando’s eyes, fingers tapping briskly over the screen. 

“I’m not sure, I haven’t spoken to her. Why?” Landos eyebrows furrowed down as he asked. 

“Nothing, Alex was asking, that's all. I think she was going to stop by if so but I’ll tell her don’t worry.” To this Lando hummed. As much as he hoped you would stop by - hoped you would have a few drinks with them because you always got a little touchy and so much more bold with your advances when you did (and he’d be completely lying if he said he didn’t love it everytime) - he also knew how exhausting a day of filming was. Further, he knew his friends, and as much as he had scolded them - put them through the ringer about not messing with you, he knew them well enough to know they would do it anyways. You would probably go straight back to the room, and while he understood, he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.

Distracted with his thoughts of you, he had almost missed the buzzing of his phone on the table besides the armrest he had been leaning on, if it hadn’t been for Carlos’ voice breaking the trail his mind was wandering. “Lando compadre, your phone.”

Snapping his eyes to the side, Lando quickly reached out and turned it over to see Max Fewtrell's name splayed across the screen. And being too lazy to pick up the phone and assuming he was just calling to assure him that filming went well, he swiped his finger across the screen and pressed the speaker button to talk.

“Yeah mate, how’d it go?”

“She has feelings for a driver.” 

Woah. No hello, no how are you, not even a build up to the revelation? It felt as if the world had stopped spinning as every single person in the room froze to look back at Lando with wide eyes.

“W-What?” Landos heart felt still in his chest as he spoke.

“We got her to talk about her relationships on the grid-”

“-You dickhead! I told you not to-”

“-Before you say you told us not to push her, It wasn’t me!”

“You’re telling me she just admitted that on her own?” Landos voice was laced with sarcasm, a scoff of knowing disbelief leaving his throat. Bullshit.

“No! … Ria did it.”

“Max you muppet, she was doing me a favor! She probably hates me now.” Lando sighed into his hands before peaking through his fingers to glance around. All three boys; Charles, Carlos  and Verstappen all had their heads turned towards the phone with wide eyes. 

“Well, that’s the thing,” Max laughed. “Maybe not! She said there was a driver she had a crush on during her formula 2 days, she wouldn’t admit who and when we asked if she still liked them she said no, but the buzzer went off. She was lying, Lando.” The silence in the room seemed deathly thick as the words left Fewtrells mouth, the three other boys blinking at the words they were hearing. They were sure to be experiencing the same emotions Lando himself had been. Shock, confusion, maybe a little intrigue. The boys had been teasing you for years about your relationship status. You had been single for so long, yet constantly surrounded by men so it was inevitable that the conversations would arise; you had to like someone. Nevertheless, you always stood firm, exclaiming that always being around the boys just made it even easier not to. 

After years of the same answers, with absolutely no indication to suggest otherwise, it was hard not to believe the words you spoke. And when you started dating your then boyfriend a few years ago - now ex, thank god for Lando - and bringing him around the paddock; a random guy none of the boys knew very well, the teasing well and truly died down. You really didn’t like anyone on the grid.

But now here they were hearing that the years of teasing, the years of questions, of loud drunken debates and near screaming matches had all been in effort to hide the truth they all suspected. A truth you had been hiding for over 5 years apparently.

The silence must have stuck out to Max Fewtrell beyond the phone, as he seemed to continue talking in the absence of a response. “Here’s what we managed to get out of her. He was an F2 driver that raced with her. She was close to him because he was one of the first people she saw after off season. She had raced with him before, so it wasn’t a new driver. And get this, he was a ‘late bloomer'- was one of the smallest in the comp before he shot up.”

Suddenly it was as if the gears were beginning to turn in Lando’s head, and he couldn’t help but pick up on the obvious smile Fewtrell definitely wore behind the phone. A late bloomer? There weren't many of those by the time they had reached Formula 2, and if there was one thing Lando was, it was a late bloomer. And it seemed everyone else had put the same cogs together, because now all the boys seated around were looking at him with sly smirks and cocked brows. 

God, there was no way. Not a single chance! Lando had spent the past however many years of his life stumbling after this girl, chasing your shadow in hopes for just a single moment of something more between you. That you would glance at him from a distance for as long as he did you, yearn to talk to you as much as he did you, sit up and think about him as often as he did you. He had liked you for as long as he could remember, and while he admits it may have been more akin to puppy love back in his teen years, that innocent crush quickly developed into something so much more intense as he got to be close to you. He wasn’t really afraid to admit he had feelings for you, and while he's never really said it out loud, he also made no attempts to hide it either, and it quickly became obvious to all your mutual friends that he liked you. 

The two youngest single people on the paddock that grew up together, now teammates, who were forced to be around each other everyday but somehow were still never apart, even when it wasn’t required, together anyway. Except one was obviously in love and the other would never like a driver, personal life and professional life were strictly separate.

Beep. Lies. 

Fuck, no, he couldn’t get his hopes up like this. It’s something, but it also doesn't really mean anything.

“Okay but, there were a lot of damn drivers on the f2 grid. There were a few late bloomers, and she was friends with plenty of the other guys that never made it to Formula 1. She- she could be talking about a lot of people.”

“You didn’t think I'd call you with all this doubt, Bob?” Max’s voice was smug and mischievous and Lando couldn’t help but wince at the dumb nickname. “Respect my name. I wouldn’t leave without something to attest. Apparently she was caught staring at the guy by another driver. Another driver knows, or at least they noticed.”

“F2 years you said?” Verstappen's voice rang loud, it almost made Lando jump from the change in bass. 

“That’s what y/n said.”

Verstappen's eyes seem harsh as his brows move down to come over his lids. “Coming back from the off season?”

“...Yeah?” Fewtrell agrees. 

In the blink of an eye Verstappen’s tense face had quickly fallen into a bright and humorous expression, eyes squinting tight as his head fell back in a loud laugh, “Oh my god!” 

“What?” Lando questions.

“Oh my god, Lando, It’s you!”

A chorus of ‘what’s’, and ‘huh’s’ course the room as Max leans over to give Lando an exhilarated slap on the back of the neck. Lando’s eyes are wide as he leans forward in a wince. Though, wether he was wincing at Max’s sudden motion or the revelation he’d just been subjected to, he wasn’t sure. You? Liking him?!

“It was me who noticed!” His laugh boomed as he spoke. “I remember it because I thought it was funny at the time, and for a while after it I thought she might have liked you because it was so unlike her. But she kept denying ever liking anyone and then she showed up with that prick of a boyfriend after that and I just let it go. I always knew it was something!” Max’s voice went raspy as he spoke in a loud, joyful tone, he was no doubt excited at the news. He loved you and wanted to help you wherever he could. And though he would never say it out loud, watching Lando pine over you; the way he cared for you, the way he would defend you when the media had negative things to say; he did actually think Lando would be a good match for you. 

Now, Lando on the other hand, Lando’s mind was a whirlwind of emotions as he struggled to conceptualize the bomb that had just been dropped over him. He had spent so long pining after you, thinking you saw him as nothing more than just a teammate or worse, just a friend. The idea of you possibly liking him back was a concept he had spent night dreaming of yet never did he think the day would actually come. He was so unconvinced of it ever happening he almost felt unprepared, unsure of what to do or how to act now. Yet, here it was. The room seemed to buzz with a newfound energy, the boys' playful teasing barely registering as he tried to wrap his head around the idea.

"Lando, you okay?" Carlos asked, his voice softer than usual, breaking through Lando's thoughts.

Lando blinked, looking up to see the concerned yet amused faces of his friends. "Yeah, just... processing."

“She likes you mate!” His best friend's words sounded unreal to him. You like him. You like him too. All this time trying to form something with you, not realizing what you already had.

Crashing that goddamn car may have been the best fucking thing that's ever happened to him.

If he’d known this would have been the outcome of DNFing he’d have sent his car straight into the track barrier years ago. Sacrificing pole position if he had to.

He truly thought nothing could have taken him away from this moment, not a single other thing could pull him back from his thoughts of you. Nothing except you. And the sound of his phone beeping with the tone of an incoming call really did pull him back to reality. Because it was you. You were calling!

The boys incessant chatter had immediately come to a halt as Lando shot up. “She’s calling!” His head turning left to right as he frantically looked around at the boys around him. “She’s calling, what do I do?”

Fewtrell’s voice couldn't have come through any clearer. “Answer you knob!”

And so he did. He analyzed the buttons and clicked the one that ended the call with Max and sent it straight over to you instead. 

His heart stuttered as the line went silent, anticipation pulsing through every inch of his veins. The boys sat back in their seats, eagerly eavesdropping on a conversation that could potentially bring a whole new meaning to the word WAG. But Lando didn’t care, more so he didn’t notice, he truthfully had been so sucked in by the letters of your name he forgot the boys were even there. 

What was he supposed to say?

“Hello?” His breath stuttered as he spoke, and the line sat silent for just a moment too long for Lando’s liking. Y/n? “Lando, you owe me so bad!”

[jujubieberbae]

[jujubieberbae]

Rest in Peace Stan Lee

Thanks for all the great memories.

You did good kid.

[jujubieberbae]

“I’m with you till the end of the line, pal.”

game time!

every time you see this post you have to reblog with a different marvel quote (no repeats)

i’ll start: “i’m a god you dull creature!”

[jujubieberbae]

I love your works 😍.

thank you so much it really means a lot 

[jujubieberbae]

Uhm... Am I the only one a bit confused about the whole “porn” thing? What are you all talking about?

it was a request a while back but after I literally wrote the entire thing IT DIDN’T FUCKING SAVE!!! I WAS PISSED I LOGGED OFF AND DIDNT EVEN BOTHER GOING BACK ON TUMBLR. So I never really got around to rewriting it.

[jujubieberbae]

when are you posting?

Ive honestly just not been wanting to write. I get these amazing requests and start writing an imagine but then as I get further in I just begin to get really bored and decide to come back to it later. And then every time I think about continuing the imagine I just get this feeling of dread, kinda like i’m not bothered. Idk.... Hopefully this’ll pass and I'll get over it but for now I wouldn’t hold my breath. So sorry to all the people that would read my imagines daily...

[jujubieberbae]

What happened to the joker and Harley Quinn idea? Or is it just me and I can’t find it ...

https://jujubieberbae.tumblr.com/post/165004778611/mr-j 

I know its a little hard to find certain imagines on my page theres just so much crap lmao

[jujubieberbae]

It’s just.... it’s too much a risk.....

Reblog or your mom will die in 928 seconds.

I love my mom.

I am risking nothing

I AM SORRY FOLLOWERS, I LOVE MY MOMMY

Will not risk.

sorry followers :(

[jujubieberbae]

when Justin comments on other females pictures but not mine

[jujubieberbae]

I wasn’t even here to wish my baby happy birthday ☹️ But HAPPY (late) 24th BIRTHDAY MY LIL TEDDY BEAR ! ILYSSSM ❤️ This gonna be a good year for him, I know it.

[jujubieberbae]

pls reblog if you love your idols for more than their body

this is for science

[jujubieberbae]

Missin You Pt 2

Its been a damn while. Whoops? But I hope this is good enough. It’s long so I hope this makes up for the fact that I might not update for a while..... Im a terrible person.

Read part one here!

Dinner at mamaw’s was always a cherishable moment for me as a small child. It was one of the only times the whole family managed to sit together and enjoy each others company without the constant chaos and hassle of the farm outside. 

Mamaw was a sweet woman, always giving and never taking. Kind and forgiving. She took care of those close to her, family or not, for her motto was blood is thicker then water but ice is solid.

Everyone that she payed was invited to join the family for dinner so family dinner night was always a feast with a standard party that consisted of over 30 people.

Though as the saying went, there was a first for everything. And tonight  was the first time I had ever dreaded family dinner night. Everyone was rumoured to be there in celebration of our arrival. Or so as said. 

Uncles, aunts, cousins and family friends all alike, to sit around a table built for 12 enjoying a Delicious home made meal stirred up by my grandmother. It sounds like a good time, but times have changed.

I no longer was the little girl with a missing tooth and fuzzy pig tails, nor the girl who lived in overalls and knew of no other hair style but a plat. I wasn’t the girl who sang with my grandmother every other night. And I wasn’t the girl that was avidly obsessed with the thought of being with her best friend. 

That best friend being the certain someone I was trying so desperately to avoid.

No. Instead, I was the new and upgraded Y/N. I had moved to the city away from my traditional family and into the heart of modern society. Where drugs, alcohol and sex was as traditional as anyone would get. 

Of course I hadn’t fallen into the world of alcoholism and partying every night with a blunt in hand, only to wake up in an unknown bed by morning, but I had to admit I had slept around a bit. I was in no ways innocent.

But down here was a living and breathing reminder of all and everything innocent about Y/N L/N. So dreading this dinner was an understatement. I was dreading this entire trip.

“Y/N?”

Head whipping to the side, a head full of hair following, I was met with non other then my grandmother herself, peering through the door of my old bedroom with furrowed eyebrows.

“Mamaw?” 

The sight of me decent was enough for her to walk in comfortably, her face stressed and mouth pulled into a sad frown, her accent thick as she spoke. “Why’re you so quiet. You usually love to visit your mamaw. Something wrong?” 

The shake of my head was my only answer. I was already sick of being here, home was the one place on my mind. 

My short and unusual answer left the woman pursing her lips in conflict, and after a harsh second she found it best to let it go for now and just inform me that dinner was ready and everyone was waiting. 

So together we descended down the old time creaky stairs into the kitchen where in fact everyone was waiting. And I mean everyone.  

A room full of heads snapping over to glare at me had my face red and blood boiling. All faces of the past, people I hadn’t seen in over three years. People I once upon a time was so close with were now nothing more then just another relative of family friend.

Awkwardly, I glanced across the room, All the seats surrounding the table were occupied expect one spot I assumes to be mamaws while everyone else stood around the table with plates of half eaten food in their hands. Guess I’m late to the party.

Then suddenly a pair of eyes caught mine.

Those golden brown pools of honey that I never failed to make my heart thud just a beat faster, even years later. He stood to the left with a plate of mamaws chicken in his now muscular hand. Last time I saw him he was nothing more then a lanky teddy bear.

It was a solid minute of silent eye contact between us which had not been left unseen by my family members, but they didn’t interfere. They knew about our lost feelings that were once a dazing fire between us. I could only imagine what was running through their heads at that moment. Probably all pitiful for Justin and disapproving towards me for doing him dirty like I did.

But to my surprise Justin smiled. He smiled… at me. Not a fake smile. Not a ‘well fuck you’ smile. A genuine smile. One that would have women shaking at the knees and begging him to take them to bed right this instant.

And I couldn’t help but smile back. It was a subconscious reaction, one that I didn’t control but just kind of happened. I honestly missed being around him as much as I wanted to forget my old life but no matter what it didn’t matter anyways because when my eyes trailed just slightly to his right my smile had turned into a long frown.

Besides him was the girl from earlier. Her name still unknown but her innocent country beauty not left unseen. It was no debate that I had change immens. I was not that innocent beauty anymore. I was now that sinful sexy you saw all around california. Crop tops and booty shorts were my go-to, beach waves my best friends. No more overalls and plats. That girl was gone. 

I doubt Justin would like me now. It was obvious he was one for innocence. He liked me when I was innocent and now it was obvious he had eyes for her. She was innocent and always on his arm, not to mention the glares she was constantly throwing me. What more could say ‘he’s my boyfriend back off’?

Taking a sharp right away from the boy I felt for and the girl who was unknown, I was met with non other then my uncle Jim himself, an extended hand of a full plate for me to take ready, his usual white smile set in his face. “Just the way you like it.” He said. “Glad to have you back.”

My lips pursued into a tight smile and all I could do was nod my head in response. Couldn’t exactly say the same, I thought.

Dinner went on in a consistent chatter. It seemed everyone had someone to converse with but me. I stood quietly to the side picking at my chicken with the one hand not holding up the plate. The only conversation I had was the occasional welcome back from an old relative.

The whole of dinner was really none other then a blur. The only thing I remember really was short conversations and the occasional glance over at Justin. The plane ride here had me jet lagged beyond belief and my head was thudding in pain from the constant clatter of noise from around. If home wasn’t an option then bed certainly was the next best thing.

My stomach for unknown reasons was becoming rather queasy and this food was beginning to look less and less appetising. And my face must have caught manses attention because a second later she was asking me if I was okay.

”Mamaw I’m not feeling to hot. I think I’m gonna turn in for the night.”

”Is there anything I can do?” She had asked but I shook my head no.

”No I think I just need to lie down.” Was my response.

After that mamaw nodded and I was off to bed, under the memorable pink covers in less then a minute flat.

For almost thirty minutes I lay awake, listening to the last member of the dinner party leave and everyone else turn in for the night. The silence was daunting in comparison to the usual hustle of Cali but in a way it was a nice change.

Though the silence wasn’t long lasting. Footsteps, quiet but noticeable were slowly but surely approaching with every passing second I lay awake. For a minute I thought maybe it was mamaw passing towards her room but when the sound stopped right in front of my door, I was shocked to have seen it open to none other then Justin.

I decided not to say anything, but instead just turn from my back to my side away from him. By the silence of the room, I knew he was still and he was still for a good few moments, all until the creek of the floorboards signified that he was moving closer.

The bed besides me sunk under his weight as he noticeably sat but the absence of his eyes had me realizing that he wasn’t looking at me at all.

It took a while but my curiosity got the best of me and soon I couldn’t help myself as I spun on my back to face the man.

He made no attempt to turn or even acknowledge my recent movement, instead choosing to continue staring at the floor in front of him. So in turn I sat up, sighing as I directed my eyes to look in front of me as well.

And finally I spoke, still not making any eye contact. “Justin....?” The absence of a response left me sighing. “I know your mad.-”

“Mad?” His voice was low and slightly amused, but he still faced the front of him giving me no indication of how his face must have looked. “That’s not what I am.”

I paused, leaving a lingering silence between us for a bit. “Then what are you? Huh, Justin? Because I doubt you’d be anything but so.”

He was unresponsive.

“No matter how much you smile at me and no matter how happy you sound when you speak, I know you still hate me for leaving......” I waited for a reply, but still nothing. “Mamaw would always call me and tell me how mad you were after I left. I felt guilty but....”

“You should have called.”

“I know I should have called but I couldn't.”

Justin suddenly spun in his position one foot hiked up onto the bed. The sudden movement left my head shooting back to look at him and now we were making eye contact. 

He didn’t seem mad, his face was calm though the undertone of his expression was easily recognized as annoyance. Guess he still thought about this from time to time.

“And why is that? Cause you were too busy living your best life?!” 

“Because I was too pussy to!” 

Justin shut his mouth at that, looking on with slightly enraged eyes, but he didn't stop me when I continued to speak. 

“I’m not in denial Justin, I know what I was. I was a pussy, too scared to call you because I knew at the time that if I'd heard your voice, I would have come back. By the time I was settled and comfortable in the city I knew It was too late to call.” 

“So you decided to leave me wondering what happened to you after all these years?”

“I decided to spare you the heart ache.” No response, so I continued. “We had something Justin. . . I didn’t want you to remember me as the one that got away. I would have rathered it be my fault because I knew you. You would have blamed yourself for letting me leave.”

There was once again nothing from Justin for a few seconds before he chose to speak up. “Well guess you didn’t know me well enough to realize that I probably still would have blamed myself, thinking you left because of me. “

My face fell, a hand reaching out for him before realizing what I was doing and backing down. “Justin? Did you really feel that way?” 

He shrugged, shuffling back on the bed slightly. “For a bit. Yeah.”

“I-Im sorry...”

“Don’t apologize. Seriously, I don’t want your pity.”

I shook my head with a sigh. “It’s not pity. It’s genuine. Besides, its not like you'd care anyways.”

Justin seemed confused by my sudden answer, shifting in his position to face me better. “What are you talking about.” 

I looked up. “You have a girl now Justin, why would you care about what happened 3 years ago?”

Justin chuckled slightly, leaning back in his seat to stare me down better. “You mean Skylar? She’s cool and all but she’s not my girlfriend.”

“So a side chick?” I jokingly added.

Clearly picking up my playful tone, Justin chuckled also, shaking his head at my humor. “No Y/N, not a side chick. A friend. A good one.” 

“Which is code for unofficial girlfriend.”

“No, which means nothing but a good friend. Your grandma hired her after you left in order to look after Jigsaw and we got along. And before you start rambling about how you can read people and how you figured it out, yes I know she likes me, I’m not oblivious. But I just don’t return those feelings.”

Although It shouldn’t have been, hearing those words was like an odd relief off my shoulders. But I hid it well, only nodding along to his explanation. 

“But why not? She’s nice, pretty... innocent.”

Justin smirked, “You have a life now Y/N, why would you care about my love life?”

Clearly mocking my previous words, I shook my head, slowly becoming more and more tired as this conversation went on. But I stood my ground and answered his obviously rhetorical question. “Not for selfish reasons, but because I do still care about you JB. You deserve to be happy.”

But the next words he mumbled was the obvious line for both of us. “You made me happy.”

None of us looked at each other after that. We both knew this conversation alone was already a step too far for our broken relationship and that last sentence was the end of what seemed to be an emotional discussion.  

After that it was like the other wasn't even in the room anymore. 

I shuffled forward and lay back down in my bed, turning my back away from him, suddenly becoming unexpectedly emotional after feeling a few odd tears surfacing the tips of my eyes. 

Justin was hesitant in his actions but stood from his seat and made his way over to the door without another word to be said. It wasn’t until he so unexpectedly spoke up that I let a few tears fall. 

“Good night Y/N” 

And then the creek of the door and the light of the hallway were gone as the door shut behind the one man who I ever treated fell for.

[jujubieberbae]

Doot doot

NO FUCKING WAYY. THIS IS WITCHERY

[jujubieberbae]

I wanna doot doot

ha?

every single person who reblogs this

every

single

person

will get “doot doot” in their ask box