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[marsroverr]

Where’s the trophy? He just comes running over to me

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando wins in Miami, and he needs to tell y/n just how much he loves them

Word count: <1k

Warnings: best friends to lovers, so much fluff, foul language, use of y/n, not-so-obscure Taylor Swift references, I’m pretty sure it’s gender neutral please tell me if it isn’t!

A/n: This is like my second fic ever please be gentle

You can’t believe it. P1. His first win. You press your hands to your mouth, trying to keep from crying as you stare at the screen in front of you in the garage, breathless with the exhilaration that had been mounting during the last few laps.

“Y/n! P1, he did it! We fucking did it!” one of the engineers yells, shaking you out of your state of shock. You nod numbly, staring around the garage at the celebrations happening around you as the team cheer and congratulate one other. As you stand there, the team starts to gather with the intention of greeting Lando, and you will your legs to carry you after them, unsure of what to do.

As you reach the bulk of the crowd, you see Lando taking a running leap into the crowd, grinning manically as they lift him up over their heads. You look on fondly, unable to stop a grin from splitting your features as he meets your eye, his smile getting impossibly wider as he does. You give him a small thumbs up, and he wrests himself from the crowd, pushing his way to you before breaking into a run.

As you collide he practically lifts you off your feet with sheer enthusiasm and you laugh into his shoulder, gripping him as tight as you can. Neither of you speak for a while, just enjoying the feeling of each other, the feeling of Lando’s success.

“You smell sweaty,” you grin, pulling away just enough to look at him properly, taking in his tousled post-race hair, “but I’m so proud of you, Lan.”

His cheeks pink slightly, and he gives you a lopsided smile, tugging you back towards him for another hug.

“I need to tell you something, y/n” he says, his words muffled in your hair.

“Anything, Lando. What is it?” Your heart pounds as you pull away from him again, his hands sliding down to grip your waist tightly, as if you’re going to slip away from him at any second.

He looks at you, suddenly shy, and you place a hand gently on his cheek to encourage him.

“’S okay, Lan. You can tell me.” You stroke his cheek with your thumb, watching him earnestly.

“I… we’ve been best friends for years, yes?” Lando watches your face anxiously as he speaks, visibly nervous despite his recent win and the exhilaration that should be pumping through his veins.

You nod, frowning slightly.

He takes a deep breath before continuing,

“And you know I love you more than anything?”

He waits for you to nod again, clutching you even tighter,

“Well… what if I told you I loved you even more than that?”

Your eyes widen as you stare at him, afraid to speak, as if you’d shatter the moment.

“Y/n, I love you. I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you for years, but I didn’t want to say anything in case it ruined what we already have.”

His words are coming out in a rush as he tries to jumble through the sentences, watching you anxiously for your reaction.

“You’re my best friend, y/n, I don’t want to lose you, but there must be something in the air, I just- I just love you so much and now I’m an F1 winner and it seemed like the perfect time and- oh God, you’re not saying anything- are you mad at me? Have I just ruined years of friendship?” he pants out, breathless as he stares at you, willing you to respond.

“Lando…” your voice trembles as you take in everything he’s just blurted out, fingers bunching in his race suit.

“Y/n, please say something…” his anxiety is clear on his face as he watches you, practically begging you with his eyes to respond.

“I… Lan, I love you too,” you breathe out, “I love you so much.”

He lets out a relieved laugh, pulling you even closer as he stares into your eyes.

“Can I… am I allowed to…” he stutters, his usual confident demeanour that he displays when he’s with you gone, replaced by this shy version of Lando that you find incredibly endearing.

Without bothering to answer, you pull him in for a kiss, his lips crashing in to yours in a frenzy. You smile against his lips, feeling him do the same, before you both start to giggle.

“We are so stupid!” You laugh, groaning into his neck.

He just smirks, tracing patterns on your hip with one hand as his other comes up to rest gently on the back of your neck.

“We are,” he agrees, pink-cheeked and smiling, “but I’m a race winner now.”

“Shit, Lan! Don’t you have a podium to go stand on?” You exclaim, swatting at his chest playfully.

His eyes widen at your words, and he looks around at the expectant faces of the McLaren team, blushing under their gaze.

“We’ll finish this later.” He smirks, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before jogging in the direction of where he needs to be.

You watch him go, blushing like crazy, your composure slipping as you grin after him.

He loves you. He’s yours. Who are you to argue?