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monzamash · 25 days ago

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NO I’M NOT IN LOVE.

“Every friend of mine, I told them the same, no I’m not in love.” — You and Lando insisted it was just friendship, nothing more. But your friends saw the truth. Then came the vacation, and suddenly, denying it wasn’t so easy anymore. Maybe they had been right all along.

pairing. Lando Norris x fem! reader.

warnings. fluff, teasing, 8k+ words, dual pov (once), friends to lovers, mutual pining, max f. and ria being menaces, idiots in love, partying, drinking, part of 800 event, based on this request, thank you!!

music. No I’m not in love by Tate Mcrae // Better Off (Alone, Pt. lll) by Alan Walker.

800 event. // event masterlist.

BEING PART OF LANDO’S INNER CIRCLE wasn’t something you had planned, wasn’t something you had expected, but somehow, it had become one of the best parts of your life. Ria had dragged you into it, nudging you into their world with effortless ease, like she had always known you would fit. And maybe she had been right.

At first, it felt foreign, intimidating even, like stepping into a world already so tightly woven that you weren’t sure there was space for you. But then, the late-night talks, the inside jokes, the endless teasing—it all became natural. Slowly but surely, you weren’t just with them; you were one of them.

You attended races together, voices blending into the roar of the crowd, your energy infectious, your excitement untamed. Every podium, every heartbreak, every chaotic moment was felt together—as a unit, as a family. You weren’t just cheering for Lando, you were part of his support, a fixture in the world that had built itself around him.

Quadrant became part of it, too—ridiculous challenges, late-night streams, moments that turned into memories before you even had time to realize it. You had found something rare in them, something that made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t before.

And the fans? They loved you.

Your group—Lando’s group—became something bigger, something people admired, something people wanted to be a part of. You were favorites, the kind of people who lit up a space simply by being in it.

At first, you had convinced yourself that you didn’t have a type—that attraction wasn’t something you could define or categorize, that it wasn’t bound by a checklist of qualities or features. You had always believed that connections happened naturally, without logic, without reason, simply falling into place without needing to be explained. But then there was Lando.

Lando, who was rich—twice. It wasn’t just about the money, though people always seemed to mention it, but rather the way he carried himself, the way he navigated life with a confidence that was both effortless and earned. There was something magnetic about the way he stepped into a room, how he spoke, how he laughed, how he had the ability to turn the most mundane moments into something that felt special, memorable.

Lando, who was funny in a way that made people want to be around him. It wasn’t forced, wasn’t rehearsed—it was natural. It came in the teasing comments, the clever remarks, the way he knew exactly how to lift the mood when things felt tense. He knew how to make you laugh when you needed it the most, and somehow, no matter how chaotic he was, you had never grown tired of it.

And Lando, who had always been there. Lingering in the corner of your life, threading himself into moments that should’ve been insignificant but somehow never were. The way his presence was a constant, never overwhelming, never demanding, but always present. You never questioned it, never considered that maybe, just maybe, it meant something more.

There had always been something between you—subtle, undeniable, existing just beneath the surface, refusing to be named outright. Sometimes it was the way his eyes lingered a little too long when he looked at you, or the way his body naturally leaned closer whenever you were talking. Other times, it was in the quiet moments, when neither of you said anything, but the silence held an understanding you couldn’t quite put into words.

And yet, no matter how many moments hinted at something more, no matter how many lingering glances or stolen seconds stretched between you, you had always agreed—always insisted—that you were just friends.

Even if sometimes, it didn’t feel like that at all.

So the invitation came casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world, like it was something you were meant to say yes to. Lando had leaned against the wall, arms crossed, that easy, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Ibiza. Summer break. You in?”

And honestly, how could you say no?

The thought of sun-drenched beaches, late-night laughter, music pulsing through warm summer air—it was impossible to resist. But more than that, it was him. It was the group. It was the feeling of belonging, of being part of something bigger than just yourself.

So you didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even try to rationalize it.

You smiled, shaking your head slightly at how effortlessly he made it sound. “Yeah. I’m in.”

Lando grinned, satisfied, because maybe—just maybe—he already knew you’d say yes.

───

The sun was high in the sky, casting golden streaks over the beach, the sound of waves crashing in the distance blending perfectly with the hum of laughter and music. It was the definition of a perfect summer—warm air, cold drinks, good company. You, Ria, Lando, and Max sprawled across the massive deckchair under the shade of the umbrella, bodies relaxed, conversations lazy, time slowing down in the best way.

Lando lay beside you, stretched out, limbs taking up far too much space, his knee brushing against yours every so often—a quiet, unspoken kind of closeness that neither of you seemed to mind.

“This is so boring,” he groaned, turning his head toward you, his eyes squinting slightly against the sunlight.

You rolled your eyes, not even surprised. “I need to tan,” you argued, shifting slightly as if to prove your point. Of course he would complain. He couldn’t sit still for more than five minutes without looking for something to do, something chaotic to jump into.

Lando scoffed, stretching out his legs, letting his head fall back against the cushion. “Do you know you can get cancer from tanning?”

Your eyebrows raised slightly. Wow. He was actually pulling out facts? You weren’t sure whether to be impressed or annoyed by his sudden concern.

“Not when you use SPF, idiot,” you laughed, nudging his leg slightly with your own.

Max had been the first to stand, stretching lazily, his movements slow and deliberate, like he was only leaving because he had run out of patience rather than genuine excitement.

“I’m going to the water,” he muttered, shaking off the last remnants of comfort before heading toward the shore.

Ria didn’t hesitate to follow, already tugging her sunglasses off as she moved. And of course, Lando was right behind them. The three of them couldn’t sit still for long, always itching to do something, always needing movement, excitement, a reason to cause trouble.

But you? You were perfectly fine where you were—legs stretched, cold drink beside you, the breeze just strong enough to keep the heat from overwhelming.

“I’ll stay here,” you told them with a soft smile, adjusting your sunglasses, letting yourself settle deeper into the cushion.

Max and Ria barely acknowledged your response, too caught up in the pull of the waves, but Lando hesitated, his shadow stretching over you, blocking the sun like an intentional challenge. He stood there, arms crossed, amusement tugging at the corner of his lips, his presence suddenly too noticeable.

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Move, asshole,” you groaned, reaching up to take off your sunglasses so you could properly glare at him.

But the second your eyes met his, your thoughts stalled.

God.

The sunlight caught in his damp curls, highlighting the golden streaks woven naturally into the brown, making them look even messier than usual. His skin was sunkissed, toned, muscles flexing ever so slightly as he shifted his stance. And the way he was looking at you? Like he had already decided something, like you had no real choice in whatever was about to happen next.

“Nuh uh,” he murmured, his voice low, teasing, just a little rough from the heat.

And then, without warning, his arms were around you.

Your breath hitched as you were suddenly off the ground, lifted effortlessly into his arms like you weighed nothing, like gravity didn’t apply to you in his hands.

Your stomach flipped, pulse hammering against your ribs, as your fingers instinctively gripped at his shoulders, wide-eyed, half-shocked, half-infuriated at the audacity.

Wow. That was attractive.

“What are you doing?” you demanded, though your voice lacked any real bite, because you knew. You already knew.

Lando’s grin widened, smug, his grip firm, steady, strong enough to make your pulse skip yet again.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he teased, taking one slow, deliberate step towards the water.

Lando’s steps grew quicker, his grip firm, his laughter mixing with yours as the inevitability of your fate became very clear. The water loomed closer, waves lapping against the shore, sparkling under the bright summer sun. The scent of salt clung to the air, carried by the gentle breeze, cooling your skin even as your pulse quickened. He was determined—too determined—eyes glinting with mischief, a playful kind of chaos wrapped around his every movement.

“Oh my God, Lando, no—” you shouted, your voice laced with amusement despite the urgency, laughter bubbling past your words as you struggled in his hold. You weren’t really trying to break free—part of you knew it was useless—but the anticipation, the excitement, made every second feel stretched, every heartbeat louder, every breath caught somewhere between thrill and frustration.

“Oh my God, Lando, yes,” he mocked, voice dripping with teasing, his grin wide, triumphant, fully enjoying your impending downfall. His feet met the cool waves, sending small ripples through the water, the sand shifting beneath him as he moved forward. He was completely unaffected, entirely confident, enjoying the moment far too much for your comfort.

“Put me down!” you demanded, the words escaping between breathless laughs, your fingers curling around his shoulders, gripping tighter, as if holding onto him would somehow change the outcome.

But before you could plead further—before you could even brace yourself—he threw you in.

The water consumed you instantly, cold and refreshing, wrapping around you in a shocking contrast to the warmth of the sun. The waves pulled at your limbs, weightless for a second before you resurfaced, gasping, blinking rapidly as droplets clung to your lashes, your hair slicked back, your body drenched from head to toe.

Lando stood just a few feet away, hands on his hips, looking absurdly pleased with himself.

“That was unnecessary,” you huffed, pushing wet strands from your face, sending a small splash his way for good measure.

He merely shrugged, green eyes shining, laughter still lingering on his lips. “Nah, that was perfect.”

Ria and Max were laughing behind him, enjoying the spectacle as much as he did, and despite yourself—despite the entire situation—you couldn’t help but laugh, too.

Lando barely flinched at the first splash, his smirk growing as he dodged your attempts to soak him further. But you weren’t done—you wanted revenge, and you weren’t going to let him get away unscathed.

Laughing, you moved closer, water sloshing against your legs as you sent another wave of splashes towards him, determined to push him deeper into the ocean. He yelped slightly when you caught him off guard, wiping droplets from his face, his curls dripping, his grin stretching even wider.

“Oh, so that’s how we’re playing it?” he challenged, stepping back as you lunged forwards, pushing at his chest, trying to force him into deeper waters.

“Yes,” you declared, hands pressing against him as you fought the resistance.

But Lando was quick—too quick.

Before you could celebrate your tiny victory, he grabbed your wrists, spinning you effortlessly, switching the advantage so you were the one struggling to stay upright.

“Not so fast,” he teased, pulling you forward, letting the waves crash around you both, his laughter tangled in the salty breeze.

And just like that, the playful battle turned into something else—something softer, something closer.

Lando’s grip on your wrists tightened just enough to steady you, to stop your playful attack before it could escalate further. His green eyes gleamed with amusement, his smile lazy, smug, entirely too satisfied with how easily he had flipped the situation in his favor.

“I swear to God, Lando,” you laughed, trying to twist out of his hold, your feet stumbling against the shifting sand beneath the waves.

He hummed, pretending to think, the water rising higher around both of you now, cool and refreshing, lapping at your waist. “Swearing won’t help you now.”

You narrowed your eyes, determined, using the element of surprise as you shifted your weight, pushing into his chest with a sudden burst of force.

Lando wasn’t expecting it.

His balance tipped backward, his arms loosening just enough for you to break free. And before he could recover, before he could retaliate, you placed both hands flat against his chest and pushed.

The sound of his startled laugh echoed around you as he crashed into the water, disappearing beneath the surface with an exaggerated splash.

Triumph surged through you as you took a step back, grinning, waiting for him to come up for air.

And when he did, when he surfaced, soaked through, blinking against the droplets clinging to his lashes, you knew—you were in trouble.

Lando pushed his wet curls back, blinking rapidly, water dripping down his face as he wiped his eyes. The smug grin remained, but now it carried something else—determination.

“Oh, you think you’ve won?” he asked, voice low, teasing, the kind of challenge that sent a thrill of anticipation through you.

You took a cautious step back, pretending innocence, but your own laughter betrayed you. “I mean, I did push you in, so—”

You didn’t get the chance to finish your sentence.

Lando surged forward without warning, cutting through the water with ridiculous ease, hands reaching for you before you could fully react.

Your breath hitched, laughter turning into a surprised gasp as his fingers wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him just as the waves crashed around you both. His body was warm despite the chilled water, his grip firm yet playful, locking you in place before you could try to escape.

“Payback,” he murmured, voice closer now, breath brushing against your ear as his hold tightened just enough to make you gasp again.

“Oh, no—,”

“Oh, yes,” he grinned, and then—you were falling. Straight into the waves.

The cold swallowed you, a rush of adrenaline sparking through your veins as the water curled around you, pulling you deeper before you fought your way back to the surface. You came up gasping, hair soaked, eyes narrowed as you wiped water from your face.

Lando was already laughing, hands on his hips, victorious.

“Okay, fine,” you huffed, swimming closer, splashing at him without hesitation. “Now we’re even.”

Lando only chuckled, stepping back slightly, the playful gleam in his eyes still dangerously present. “Are we?” he asked, voice dropping slightly, teasing, challenging.

Max shook his head, amusement laced in his expression as he watched the chaos unfold. The water still rippled from where you and Lando had been fighting your playful battle, waves catching the sunlight as they curled gently toward the shore. “You two are like little kids,” he teased, his voice dripping with exasperation, though there was no real annoyance behind his words—just the familiar fondness of someone who had grown entirely used to your antics.

Ria, however, wasn’t focused on Max’s commentary. Her sharp gaze flicked between you and Lando, the playful energy, the laughter, the effortless way you were drawn to each other without even realizing it. And then, when her eyes settled on you, she knew. The way her lips curled slightly, the subtle raise of her eyebrow—it was the universal sign that she had figured something out.

You sighed, already knowing what was coming before she even spoke.

“Come on,” she muttered under her breath, grabbing your wrist with a firm grip, not bothering to wait for your agreement before tugging you toward the shore. The water dripped from your skin as you stumbled forward, the warmth of the sand shocking against your damp feet as you stepped out of the waves, leaving Lando and Max behind.

The summer sun kissed your skin, drying you quickly, though the remnants of saltwater clung to you, lingering like a reminder of what had just happened. The breeze swept in gently, carrying the distant laughter of beachgoers, the scent of sunscreen, and the quiet hum of the ocean stretching beyond the horizon. But none of that mattered—not when Ria turned to you fully, hands on her hips, eyes gleaming with knowing amusement.

“Tell me you don’t like him,” she challenged, her voice both lighthearted and firm, daring you to deny what she already knew was true. “And I swear if you say it, it’ll be obvious you’re lying.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, fingers twisting into the hem of your soaked shirt as if grounding yourself in the motion would help.

“I don’t,” you insisted, voice steady, too steady, because you were forcing it to be.

But the way Ria’s smirk grew—slow, confident, victorious—told you everything you needed to know.

She didn’t believe you.

Ria didn’t move, didn’t let you avoid the conversation, didn’t let you brush off the weight of the moment. Instead, she just stared, arms crossed, her head tilting slightly as she studied your expression, waiting—knowing.

You huffed, shifting uncomfortably, kicking at the sand beneath your feet, suddenly hyper-aware of the way your heart was beating just a little too fast.

She wasn’t going to let this go.

“You don’t like him?” she repeated, voice thick with skepticism, eyes narrowing slightly.

“I don’t,” you reinforced, but it wasn’t as sharp this time. It wasn’t convincing—not to her, not to yourself.

Ria rolled her eyes, scoffing as she reached for the towel she had tossed onto the chair earlier, shaking out the fabric before tossing it toward you. “Okay, sure. Tell yourself that.”

You caught the towel, gripping it tighter than necessary as you wiped the excess water from your arms. “It’s not like that,” you muttered, avoiding her gaze, keeping your voice neutral, like saying it plainly enough would make it true.

But Ria wasn’t buying it.

She leaned in slightly, her voice lower now, softer, but still teasing, still knowing.

You’re blind if you don’t see the way he looks at you.”

Your throat tightened. “Ria—”

“No, seriously,” she continued, crossing her arms again, watching your reaction carefully. “The way he looks at you? The way you look at him?” She scoffed, shaking her head. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you two were already dating.”

You laughed—actually laughed—because that was ridiculous.

“You’re reading into it way too much,” you said, shaking your head, draping the towel over your shoulders. “Lando’s like that with everyone”

Ria gave you a look, the kind that made your stomach twist.

“Oh, babe,” she murmured, smirking now, too confident, too sure. “He’s not like that with everyone.”

Max let out a laugh, shaking his head as he floated in the water, watching Lando with the kind of knowing amusement that only a best friend could have. The waves rolled gently around them, pulling them in and out with the steady rhythm of the ocean, the sun reflecting brightly against the surface. Lando’s face was mostly unreadable—at least, to someone who didn’t know him well. But Max? Max could see it, clear as day, written in every glance, in every slight hesitation, in the way his gaze always found its way back to you.

“You are making it so obvious, man,” Max muttered, voice carrying just enough teasing to make sure Lando felt it, to make sure he couldn’t brush it off like some fleeting thought.

Lando frowned, his brows furrowing just slightly. “What?” He sounded genuinely confused, but Max knew better—knew he wasn’t oblivious, just in denial.

Max raised an eyebrow, letting the words come easily, stating them like they were the most obvious thing in the world. “That you like her.”

The reaction was instant—too instant. “What?! I mean, I don’t,” Lando blurted, but even as he said it, his head turned slightly, his eyes flickering toward the shore, towards you.

You were laughing, your fingers wringing the water from your hair, the sunlight catching in the damp strands, reflecting golden against your skin. There was something effortless about the way you carried yourself, the way you fit so seamlessly into this moment, into his life. And maybe Lando wasn’t ready to admit it—to say it out loud—but the way his chest tightened at the sight of you, the way his breath caught just slightly, was proof enough that he felt it.

Max watched him carefully, waiting for the inevitable, waiting for him to realize what was so blatantly obvious to everyone else.

And then—Lando sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, dropping the fight just slightly. “Okay, maybe a bit,” he admitted, voice quieter now, not defensive, just hesitant. His fingers fidgeted against the surface of the water, his gaze shifting between you and Max, uncertainty laced into his expression. “But she’s not interested in me.”

Max scoffed, shaking his head, kicking at the water with his foot, sending small splashes toward Lando in frustration. “Bro, are you blind?”

Lando scoffed, shaking his head as if trying to dismiss Max’s words, but the doubt—the possibility—lingered beneath it, stubborn, refusing to leave. His fingers skimmed the surface of the water, fidgeting slightly, his mind turning over the idea even though he wanted to ignore it.

Max sighed, rolling his eyes as he drifted closer, arms lazily cutting through the waves. “Mate, seriously. Do you really think she’d mess around with you like that if she didn’t care?”

Lando huffed, shifting slightly, the hesitation obvious now, even if he was trying to play it cool. “She messes around with all of us.”

Max scoffed again, shaking his head. “Not like that.”

───

It was the perfect time for drinks on the beach, for lazy mornings stretched under the sky, for the simple indulgence of summer.

Max and Ria had sent you and Lando on a mission—drinks for them. And of course, it was just the two of you.

Lando had excused himself to the bathroom as you made your way to the bar alone, the wooden counter smooth and cool beneath your fingertips. The bartender greeted you with a quick glance, his eyes lingering for just a beat too long before his lips stretched into a polite smile.

“Hey,” you greeted, returning the expression, casual, effortless. “Can I get two piña coladas and two mojitos?”

The bartender nodded, grabbing the bottles, beginning the careful process of crafting the drinks, his movements precise, practiced. “Of course,” he said, breaking the quiet pause between you. Then, as he worked, he tilted his head slightly, curiosity lining his words. “How do you enjoy it here?”

You smiled, glancing briefly at the expanse of beach behind you, the waves curling toward the shore, the distant laughter of other vacationers filling the air. “Yeah, it’s beautiful,” you said simply, the sentiment genuine, but not particularly deep.

The bartender’s attention lingered, his fingers tapping against the counter rhythmically, his expression shifting just slightly, leaning into something more… bold. “I work ‘til seven,” he started, the words slow, deliberate. “Maybe, don’t you want—”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence.

Before you could react, before you could fully process where this was going, a presence appeared behind you—familiar. The scent—clean, warm, Lando. The voice—smooth, casual, just a little too nonchalant.

“Hey, babe, what’s up?”

His arm slid around your shoulders easily, comfortably, like it had always been there, like it belonged.

The bartender’s expression shifted—hesitated—eyes flickering between you and Lando, the realization settling quickly, the unfinished sentence evaporating before it could ever be spoken.

Lando glanced at the drinks being prepared, acting as if he hadn’t just interrupted something, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “What’s taking so long?” he mused, voice light, casual, but there was something underneath it—something sharp, something intentional.

You blinked, adjusting to the shift in energy, to the way Lando had stepped in so seamlessly, the way his grip on your shoulder didn’t falter, didn’t shift.

“Oh, just waiting,” you murmured, watching as the bartender refocused, speeding up his movements, no longer lingering, no longer making conversation.

Lando hummed, fingers pressing lightly against your skin, his hold easy, effortless, territorial.

The walk back to the others felt different—like the air had shifted somehow, like something had settled between you and Lando in a way neither of you had fully acknowledged yet. The drinks rattled slightly on the tray he carried, the condensation dripping onto his fingers, but he didn’t seem to mind. He carried it effortlessly, like it had always been his job, like you weren’t even allowed the chance to take it from him.

You glanced at him, side-eyeing, testing the waters.

“You really didn’t need to do that,” you pointed out, voice light, teasing.

Lando smirked, adjusting his grip on the tray, his fingers flexing ever so slightly around the edges. “I wanted to,” he said simply, like that was answer enough.

You scoffed, shaking your head, brushing off the teasing, but the way he had stepped in earlier, the way he had slid into that moment at the bar so seamlessly—it was still sitting somewhere deep in your thoughts, lingering.

And then—

“You know he was gonna ask you out, right?”

You faltered slightly in your step, turning toward him, eyebrows knitting together. “What?”

Lando kept walking, kept looking ahead, but there was something too casual about the way he spoke, too measured. “The bartender,” he clarified, tone easy, natural, like this conversation wasn’t something, like it was just another harmless observation. “He was working up to it.”

You frowned, replaying the moment in your head, the way the bartender had leaned in slightly, the slow, deliberate way he had spoken, how the unfinished sentence had died the moment Lando arrived.

And the way Lando had arrived.

“Okay,” you said slowly, watching him now, studying the way his posture remained relaxed, like he wasn’t fully paying attention, like he was trying too hard to seem unaffected. “So?”

Lando shrugged, fingers tapping idly against the side of the tray. “So I wasn’t gonna let that happen.”

Your stomach twisted, heartbeat skipping slightly.

You tilted your head, crossing your arms as you walked. “That’s a bold move, Norris.”

He smirked, but he still didn’t look at you. “Didn’t feel bold. Felt necessary.”

Your pulse stuttered, but you refused to let the weight of his words settle in a way that made them mean something.

You rolled your eyes, pushing forward. “You don’t own me, you know.”

Finally, finally, Lando looked at you. And there was something charged in his gaze, something teasing, something knowing.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his lips curling slightly. “I know,”

But the way he said it—the way his voice dipped just slightly, the way his smirk didn’t quite reach his eyes—made you wonder if maybe, he wanted to.

But yeah, you definitely did not like him. Not at all.

───

The night was alive, stretching out ahead of you like something infinite, something meant to be reckless, unforgettable. It was exactly what young people did on vacation after sunset—drink too much, dance too hard, let loose in a way that would be laughed about in the morning.

The plan was simple: get wasted. Totally. Immorally.

And somehow, that plan had led you here—to a club humming with bass so deep it vibrated through your chest, neon lights flickering in shades of electric blue, ruby red, pulsing violet. The air was thick, heavy with heat, sweat, the scent of alcohol mixing with the excitement of too many people packed together, bodies swinging, moving, losing themselves to the rhythm of the music.

And, once again, it was just you and Lando.

Ria and Max had disappeared, slipping away into the chaos without so much as a word, vanishing into the crowd like ghosts. It wasn’t the first time they’d done this—always conveniently lost, always conveniently absent just when it was only the two of you left behind. Suspicious. Too suspicious.

You narrowed your eyes slightly, scanning the room, half expecting to catch a glimpse of them watching from a shadowed corner, hiding like they planned this, like they wanted this.

Lando leaned in, close enough that his breath brushed against your ear, his voice low but teasing over the music. “They do it on purpose, you know.”

You tilted your head just slightly toward him, raising an eyebrow. “Obviously.”

He grinned, stepping closer, the space between you shrinking, the flashing lights catching in his damp curls, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw. The energy between you shifted—something playful, something charged, something neither of you had acknowledged outright.

“So,” he mused, his tone light but suggestive, “since we’ve lost them… what do we do now?”

Your stomach twisted, pulse picking up speed, matching the pounding beat of the music.

The thought of searching for Ria and Max had been weighing on you—not enough to take action yet, but enough to sit somewhere in the back of your mind, whispering that finding at least one responsible person would be the smart move. Because while getting wasted was absolutely part of the plan, drunk Lando was a different story altogether. He was chaos personified, a walking hazard when he got too far into his drinks, and if past experiences were anything to go by, you knew there was no controlling him once he hit a certain level.

You needed someone to be the voice of reason—the grounding force among the recklessness. And right now? That someone wasn’t you.

But then—the music changed.

The opening chords of Tate’s No, I'm Not in Love pulsed through the speakers, threading through the air, wrapping itself around the flashing neon lights, settling into the atmosphere like it belonged there. You froze, breath catching for just a second, because Jesus Christ, no song could possibly describe your situation better than this one. It was too on point, too fitting, like the universe itself was nudging you towards a realization you weren’t sure you wanted to fully embrace.

You glanced over at Lando, watching as he swayed lightly to the beat, blissfully unaware of the ridiculous irony of the moment. He was too caught up in the rhythm, too lost in the intoxicated haze of the night, but you? You weren’t lost at all. You saw it clearly. And suddenly—the idea of searching for Max and Ria seemed a lot less important.

A slow smirk curled onto your lips, mischief flickering in your eyes. “Maybe we should enjoy it on our own,” you mused, letting go of whatever impulse had been telling you to find the others. Let them watch. Let them plot.

The moment overtook you—the alcohol, the music, the sheer audacity of knowing Ria and Max were watching like hawks from whatever hidden corner they had claimed. So, fine. If they were going to meddle, if they were going to set the stage for whatever game they thought they were playing, you might as well put on a show.

You threw your head back, letting the music pulse through you, and without hesitation, the words left your lips—loud, exaggerated, off-key but undeniably committed.

“Every friend of mine, I told them the same!"

Lando hesitated at first, brows furrowing slightly, the drunken haze clouding his comprehension. But then—then something clicked. Recognition. Understanding. And slowly—dangerously—a smirk crept onto his face, matching the energy you had thrown out so unapologetically.

He laughed, shaking his head, letting the moment settle before joining in, leaning closer, voice rough, teasing.

“No, I'm not in love!"

You threw your arms out dramatically, gesturing like you were making some grand proclamation to the entire club, like this was a performance meant to be witnessed, meant to be talked about.

“I’m not thinking about you,” you sang, voice tangled with laughter, exaggerated and bold, thrown out into the air like they meant nothing, but they did, and it was an obvious lie, one that Lando saw straight through.

Because the way he laughed, the way his fingers curled around your wrist for a fleeting second before letting go told you he knew, he knew you were lying, he knew this wasn’t just a drunken joke anymore, he knew that whatever was happening between you—the teasing, the tension, the game neither of you had fully acknowledged yet—was already spiraling into something dangerous, something inevitable, something neither of you were stopping.

His gaze lingered, sweeping over you with an ease that was too deliberate, too knowing, and he tilted his head slightly, watching the way you swayed, the way the neon lights painted streaks of red against your skin, the way your breath hitched when he stepped just a little closer, and still, the lyrics kept coming, tumbling past your lips effortlessly, sinking into the charged air between you.

“And I don’t hate every girl your eyes go to!”

Lando’s smirk deepened, slow, deliberate, dangerous, and then, just for a moment, for one fleeting second, his eyes dragged over you, measured, intentional, like he was answering a question neither of you had spoken aloud yet, like he was proving something, like he was silently calling your bluff.

“No I’m not in—“

The words barely had time to leave your lips before Lando’s hands were on you, pulling you in, crashing his mouth against yours with the kind of recklessness that came from too many drinks, too much tension, too much waiting. There was nothing gentle about it, nothing hesitant—just a collision of heat and energy, the culmination of a night filled with teasing and unspoken words. The weight of the moment drowned out everything else.

The music thumped in the background, a steady pulse, a heartbeat for the night, but it was distant now, muted beneath the rush of blood in your ears. The flashing neon lights bathed everything in shifting hues, casting streaks of electric blues and reds against his skin, painting the moment in something surreal, something that didn’t feel entirely real but was. The crowd moved around you, bodies swaying, voices blending together in laughter and shouting, but none of it mattered.

All that existed in that breathless, intoxicated second was him.

Lando tasted of tequila and recklessness, of something unspoken, something that had been lingering between you for far too long. His grip was firm, fingers curling against your waist, holding you close, grounding you in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. There was a desperation in it—like maybe he’d wanted this longer than either of you would admit, like maybe this wasn’t just about the alcohol or the tension but something deeper, something inevitable.

When he finally pulled back—just enough to see your face, just enough to look at you the way he always did but never quite let on—his smirk was lazy, teasing, dangerous. His thumb brushed against your jaw, gaze flickering over your expression, searching, waiting, as if he expected you to say something, as if he knew there were words stuck in your throat that you weren’t quite ready to speak.

The energy between you was charged thick with the weight of something inevitable, something unspoken, something that had lingered far too long between teasing smiles and fleeting touches. The music swelled, pressing into the moment, drowning out logic, hesitation, reason.

You hadn’t thought—you had just moved hands gripping his shirt, pulling him back into you, kissing him without restraint, without second-guessing, without giving yourself the chance to stop.

This time, Lando wasn’t caught off guard.

This time, he expected it.

His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer, his lips pressing against yours like he wasn’t just matching your recklessness, like he was meeting something that had always been there.

The world blurred, neon colors flashing against his skin, drowning you both in electric hues, but none of it mattered—none of it registered—not when the only thing grounding you was him.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, breathless, gaze flickering between your lips and your eyes, searching for something unspoken, something real, something that neither of you had fully admitted yet.

“Still not in love?” he murmured, voice low, teasing, but there was something else beneath it, something daring, something that asked for more than just a playful answer.

Your chest rose and fell, breath uneven, heartbeat thrumming in rhythm with the bass.

You swallowed hard, shaking your head slightly, though it wasn’t convincing, though the smirk playing at the edges of his lips told you he knew the truth.

“I’m very drunk,” you countered, not answering his question, deflecting, but the way your fingers still curled into his shirt, the way you hadn’t let go—it was telling.

Lando hummed, lips twitching at the corners, his thumb tracing absent patterns along your waist. “So am I,” he admitted, voice barely above the music. “But I still meant it.”

Your stomach twisted, breath hitching.

The words hung in the air between you, heavier than the pounding bass, louder than the drunken chatter of the club around you. You barely processed the flashing neon lights anymore, barely registered the movement of the crowd—because suddenly, the only thing that mattered was him.

Lando’s grip on your waist hadn’t loosened, his fingers still curled against your skin like he wasn’t ready to let go, like he wasn’t even thinking about letting go. His expression had shifted—something softer beneath the smirk, something hesitant but certain at the same time.

“I like you, Y/n,” he said, voice lower now, quieter, like it wasn’t just another teasing remark, like it actually meant something. “A lot.”

Ria and Max stood near the exit, casually leaning against the wall, watching the scene unfold before them with smirks that said they knew this was coming all along. The neon lights flashed overhead, casting an electric glow across the club, but neither of them were paying attention to anything other than you and Lando, tangled together, oblivious to their spectators.

Ria took a slow sip of her drink, eyes gleaming with amusement as she tilted her head toward Max. “Right, because she’s definitely not in love,” she remarked, voice dripping with sarcasm, barely masking her satisfaction at seeing her prediction come true.

Max chuckled, crossing his arms as he watched Lando pull you closer like he had to, like it was beyond his control now. “Oh yeah, totally platonic,” he mused, amusement flickering in his tone. “You know, just friends, casually making out in the middle of a crowded club.”

Ria scoffed, shaking her head. “Honestly, they should start paying me. I don’t even charge for matchmaking, but I really should.”

Max nudged her lightly, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. We didn’t do anything this time. This was inevitable. We just sat back and let it happen.”

───

Nobody talked about that night—not even Ria and Max, which was strange considering how much they loved meddling, loved pushing things just for the sake of watching them unfold. They had bet on it, plotted it, orchestrated it in their own way, but afterward? Nothing. No smirks thrown your way, no sly remarks, no comments about how they knew this would happen, no subtle nudges toward whatever this was supposed to mean.

It was like they had collectively decided to let it sit untouched, unmentioned, as if acknowledging it would make it real.

Maybe that should have made it easier.

Maybe the silence should have let you push it aside, should have allowed it to fade into the same blur of bad decisions and drunken recklessness as the rest of that night.

But then there was Lando.

And Lando? He hadn’t let it go at all.

If anything, his teasing had gotten worse—relentlessly worse—so subtle yet so constant that it was impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just the casual smirks anymore, wasn’t just the playful nudges or the remarks that made you roll your eyes and shove him away. It was everything. The way his eyes lingered just a second longer when you spoke, the way his fingers found yours absently when you walked side by side, the way he leaned in just a little too close whenever he whispered something meant only for you.

And Ria?

She noticed everything.

She never said anything outright, never pushed you into admitting anything, but the way she looked at you sometimes—head tilted, lips curled into an amused smile, eyes flickering with knowing—said she had already figured it out. And every time, every single time, you gave her the same answer.

“I’m not in love," you’d mutter, rolling your eyes, shaking your head, pretending like your pulse didn’t quicken, pretending like you didn’t think about it far too often, pretending like Lando wasn’t making sure you fell for him anyway.

The silence of the room pressed in around you, thick and suffocating. The rhythmic rise and fall of Ria’s breath was steady, unbothered by the weight that kept your own eyelids stubbornly open. It had been two nights since sleep last found you, and tonight was shaping up to be no different.

Then, suddenly—light.

The glow of your phone cut through the darkness, harsh against tired eyes. For a moment, you didn’t move, staring at the screen as if expecting it to vanish. But the light remained, unwavering.

A message.

Your stomach tightened. Not just any message.

Lando.

lando u sleepin? cuz i can’t max’s snoring so damn hard

yn can’t sleep either lol

lando u wanna go for walk on the beach??

The absurdity of it barely even registered. A walk at 2 AM? When the rest of the world was either asleep or tangled in the chaos of the lingering night—but, somehow, it made perfect sense. You were so in.

yn yea let’s go

You barely breathed as you stepped through the doorway, moving with careful precision, as if the slightest misstep might shatter the quiet and wake Ria or Max. The apartment was still, save for the faint hum of the city beyond its walls, the distant murmurs of late-night traffic weaving into the silence. You pressed your fingers against the doorframe, guiding it closed with measured patience, and when the soft click finally sounded, you exhaled in relief.

Lando stood beside you, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, his head tilted slightly in amusement as he glanced your way. His smirk—lazy, teasing—played at the edges of his lips, barely visible beneath the dim glow of the hallway light filtering out from inside.

"Think we made it?" he whispered, voice just loud enough for you to hear but quiet enough to keep the stillness intact.

You lifted a hand instinctively, holding it up like you were listening for a signal—some shift, some noise, some indication that you had failed. But everything remained silent, uninterrupted, untouched by your presence. You waited for the inevitable creak of bedsprings, for Max's sleepy complaints, for Ria's sharp curiosity, but nothing came.

Only silence.

Finally, you lowered your hand, a slow grin pulling at the corners of your mouth as you shook your head.

Lando let out a short chuckle, shifting slightly as he rocked on his heels, as if adjusting to the crisp air outside. "We could have just left normally, you know," he mused, tone easy, effortless.

You shot him a flat look, crossing your arms as you stepped further from the door. "Yeah? And risk Ria analyzing our entire existence before we even make it down the street?"

Lando laughed at that, tilting his head in acceptance. "Fair point."

The street stretched ahead of you, quieter now than it had been hours before, when the city had still been alive with movement, with music, with crowds lost in the indulgence of the night. There was something surreal about it—something almost too peaceful, too still—like the world had reset itself while you weren’t looking. The cool breeze brushed against your skin, a sharp contrast to the lingering warmth of the alcohol still settling in your veins.

Lando fell into step beside you, his hands still stuffed into his pockets, his movements relaxed, unconcerned, but the energy between you was different now—charged in a way that made your stomach twist.

"So," Lando mused, kicking a loose pebble across the pavement, watching it skip and tumble down the road. "Are we just walking? Or are we pretending this isn’t weird?"

You scoffed, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets. "It’s not weird. It’s just... spontaneous."

Lando snorted, glancing at you with a raised brow. "Right. ‘Spontaneous.’ That’s what we’re calling it?"

You nudged him with your elbow, rolling your eyes. "Shut up."

The waves rolled in with a quiet rhythm, a soft pulse against the shore, stretching out beneath the moonlight in endless streaks of silver. The night was still, peaceful in a way that felt surreal, as if time had slowed just for the two of you, as if the world had paused long enough for you to finally let yourself feel everything you had been avoiding.

You walked in silence for a while, the cool ocean breeze wrapping around you, carrying the scent of salt and something nostalgic—something that reminded you of summer nights spent chasing moments you never wanted to end. Lando kept pace beside you, hands tucked into his pockets, steps steady and deliberate, like he was waiting for you to speak first, like he knew that this conversation wasn’t one he could force.

But you didn’t say anything. You weren’t ready—not yet.

The sand shifted under your feet, soft and weightless, grounding you in ways you didn’t expect. Lando let out a breath beside you, not impatient, not pushing—just waiting.

And then, finally, he broke the silence.

“Are we gonna talk about it?”

His voice was calm, easy, but something else lay beneath it—something careful, something that wasn’t just teasing, something real.

You inhaled slowly, pretending not to understand, pretending this was just a normal conversation between two friends, the kind that didn’t linger, the kind that didn’t change anything. “About what?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, feigning innocence, though you knew he wouldn’t buy it.

Lando scoffed lightly, shaking his head, amusement flickering in his eyes despite the weight of his words. “Stop, you know.”

You were quiet.

Watching the waves pull back, watching them crash forward again—predictable, inevitable, like this.

He sighed, running a hand through his curls, exhaling a short laugh—something small, something he barely let out. “You should admit it.” His tone was lighter now, still teasing, but there was something else beneath it, something steady, something that made your chest tighten.

You frowned slightly, finally turning to meet his gaze. “Admit what?”

His smirk deepened, slow, deliberate, steps measured as if he was guiding you toward an answer you weren’t ready to say out loud.

“That you’re falling for me.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, trying—desperately trying—to keep your pulse steady, to keep your breath even, to keep your face neutral, but none of it worked.

Lando let out a short laugh, shaking his head like he didn’t believe you for a second.“I don’t have to wish, Y/n,” he murmured, voice easy, confident, frustratingly sure of himself. “You’re already there.”

The silence stretched between you, thick and charged, filled with something that had been lingering in the air for far too long. The ocean’s rhythmic pulse filled the quiet, waves rolling in and out with steady precision, as if mimicking the careful balance you had both been maintaining. The moon hung high above the water, casting silver reflections across its surface, making everything feel softer, making everything feel realer.

You shifted on your feet, forcing a casual shrug, though the weight in your chest told you it wasn’t casual at all. “I could say the same,” you murmured, your voice measured, controlled, desperately trying to maintain the effortless front. “That you need to admit it.”

Lando exhaled a short laugh, shaking his head slightly, eyes glinting with something unreadable beneath the dim light. His smirk—lazy, teasing—was still there, but it had softened at the edges, something else slipping through, something honest, something serious.

“I don’t need to admit it,” he said, voice quieter now, steadier, as if choosing his words carefully. “I’ve already fallen for you.”

He had already said it—put it all out there without hesitation, without fear, without holding anything back. Now, it was your turn. You could see it in the way he looked at you, the quiet patience, the soft expectation, the way he was just waiting for you to say it, waiting for you to give in. And the worst part? You wanted to.

You inhaled sharply, pressing your lips together, willing your pulse to slow, willing your thoughts to steady, but none of it worked. Because the truth was already clawing its way out of you, raw and unfiltered, slipping past your defenses faster than you could stop it.

“Okay—I like you so much,” you admitted, the words tumbling out, rushed and desperate, thick with the weight of everything you had been holding back. Your breath hitched, your fingers curled at your sides, like your body was still trying to fight something your heart had already accepted. “All those jokes, Lando... God, they weren’t just jokes.”

Lando’s expression shifted the moment the words left your lips. His eyes locked onto yours, the quiet patience still there, but now there was something else—something warmer, something realer, something that felt like relief and victory all at once.

“You finally said it,” he murmured, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, shaking your head slightly, frustration and disbelief mixing into something unsteady. “Yeah,” you muttered. “Guess I did.”

Lando chuckled softly, stepping a little closer, his fingers brushing against your wrist before curling lightly around it. “And?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, his tone teasing but careful, like he wasn’t pushing too hard—just enough to hold onto this moment, just enough to make sure you didn’t run from it.

“And…” you exhaled, searching his face, searching the warmth in his gaze, searching for the courage to just say it properly. “And I’m done pretending.”

Lando smiled then—really smiled. The kind that made your chest tighten, the kind that made it impossible to regret admitting any of this, the kind that told you that, whatever this was, it wasn’t going anywhere.

His hand slid fully into yours, fingers intertwining like they’d been waiting to do so for a long time. “Good,” he murmured. “Because neither am I.”

He was still holding your hand, fingers laced with yours like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he had been doing it forever, like he had no intention of letting go anytime soon. The waves continued their steady rhythm in the distance, rolling in and pulling away, but right now, the only thing grounding you was him.

“How do we tell Max and Ria?” he asked, amusement lacing his voice as he tilted his head slightly, studying you like he already knew you were dreading the thought of it.

You groaned, rolling your eyes, even as a small laugh escaped. “God, I don’t even want to think about it,” you admitted, shaking your head. The very idea of telling them sent a wave of anticipation—and, honestly, chaos—crashing into your mind. “Ria is going to freak out, I just know it.”

Lando grinned, shaking his head. “Please, she’s known for months.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, lips pressing together as you considered that for a moment. “Max, maybe,” you conceded. “But Ria? If she knew, she would have said something. She would’ve been obnoxious about it.”

Lando’s laugh was louder now, more certain, like he had already imagined Ria’s reaction in full detail. “You don’t give her enough credit. She was waiting for us to get together.”

You sighed dramatically, tilting your head toward the sky like you were searching for divine intervention. “We could just… never tell them,” you suggested. “Keep it a secret forever. Take it to the grave.”

Lando snorted. “Yeah, sure. Because that worked so well for us before.” His voice dripped with amusement, and before you could argue, he tugged on your hand lightly, pulling you just a little closer, shaking his head at you like you were being ridiculous. “You’re scared of telling them more than you were scared of admitting it to me, aren’t you?”

You huffed, but the way he was looking at you—so effortlessly amused, so endlessly fond—made it impossible to argue. “I’m not scared,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “It’s just… Ugh, it’s going to be a thing, you know?”

Lando smirked, squeezing your hand lightly. “Oh, absolutely. Max is going to make fun of us for at least a week.”

“And Ria will be unbearable for a month,” you groaned.

Lando chuckled, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over the back of your hand. “So, are you gonna do the honors, or should I?”

You groaned again, shaking your head. “Absolutely not. You tell them.”

#friends to lovers never disappoints ✨#it's been a hot minute since a fic has really grabbed me so massive kudos op <3 #and congrats on 800!!#mmficrec

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