turn of tables | lando norris
synopsis: in which he's the jealous one
a/n: based on this request!
pairing: lando norris x girlfriend!reader
The funny thing about relationships, you thought, was that no matter how strong they were, there was always some hidden weakness waiting to show up. You’d learned that early on with Lando.
For months, you’d been the jealous one — you couldn’t help it. Lando had a hundred girls in every city, fans screaming his name, girls in VIP paddocks tossing their numbers at him like confetti.
Even though you trusted him, there had been moments when you hated the way other women looked at him, hated the way he charmed everyone so easily without even trying.
But you’d worked through it. With time, with honesty, with a lot of talking things out, you’d slowly learned to relax.
And that’s when the tables turned.
You’d been dating for about four months when it happened. Lando started picking you up after shifts, smiling as he waited by the staff door while you wrapped up your closing counts.
You worked at a high-end restaurant, a place where the kitchen was as sharp and tense as a Formula 1 pit lane. You were one of the senior chefs, confident, respected, and, lately, in charge of training a new sous chef named Matteo.
Matteo was tall, broad-shouldered, with an easy grin and a quick sense of humor. From the outside, it looked…well, friendly. Too friendly, maybe.
That night, Lando leaned against his McLaren, tapping a foot impatiently as he watched you and Matteo laughing just inside the staff entrance.
You’d flicked Matteo’s shoulder playfully after some dumb joke, and Matteo had grinned wide, leaning a bit too close for Lando’s liking.
Something twisted in Lando’s chest.
He tried to ignore it at first. He trusted you. Of course he did. You’d proven again and again that you were loyal, committed. But still, the look on Matteo’s face — that cocky, familiar grin — set off a quiet alarm in the back of his head.
When you finally came out, untying your apron and slinging it over your arm, you saw him frowning.
“Hey,” you said brightly. “Sorry, Matteo was asking about tomorrow’s menu changes.”
“Yeah,” Lando said, trying to sound casual, “looked like he was asking about something else too.”
You paused, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing,” he said too quickly. “It’s fine.”
You tilted your head, studying him. “Lan… you good?”
“Yeah.” He forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
You sighed and stepped forward, brushing your thumb along his jaw. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” he repeated, leaning into your touch, but something in him was stiff, distant.
It bothered you all the way home.
The next morning, you found him staring blankly at his phone, ignoring a group chat pinging with memes from his teammates.
“Spill,” you demanded, planting yourself in front of him.
“You’ve been weird since yesterday. You know you can talk to me, right?”
He looked up then, eyes a little raw, the vulnerability so real it made your heart squeeze.
“Do you… do you like him?”
It took a moment for the question to register.
“Matteo,” he blurted, like the word tasted foul. “I see the way he looks at you. I see you laughing with him, and— I don’t know, you don’t laugh like that with me sometimes.”
Your jaw fell open. “Lando Norris. You are actually jealous?”
He bristled. “Is that so impossible?”
You softened immediately, moving to sit beside him on the couch, pressing a hand to his racing heart.
“Babe, I only laugh with Matteo because he’s new. I’m trying to make him feel comfortable. There is nothing between us.”
Lando looked away, embarrassed.
“It’s stupid, I know. It’s just… for months you worried about girls around me. I never thought I’d feel like this, but now… I can’t help it. He’s around you all the time. You work together, you share shifts, you… you touch his shoulder when you laugh.”
“Lan,” you murmured, leaning closer, “do you know how I see Matteo? As a coworker. That’s it. That’s all. And if you want, I can cool it with the playful stuff. Because I only want you.”
He swallowed hard, shoulders sagging. “I know. I trust you. But—”
“But what?” you prompted gently.
He met your eyes, glassy with honesty. “But I don’t want to lose you. You’re everything to me. And I guess, after we finally figured out your jealousy, it feels… weird to be the one worrying.”
You cupped his face, thumbs sweeping over the soft pink of his cheeks. “Listen to me. I choose you, every single day. Matteo can grin all he wants, but he doesn’t get me. You do.”
Lando laughed a little, though it was shaky. “Yeah?”
You kissed him softly, sweetly, until he melted into you, all that tension leaking away.
But insecurities didn’t vanish overnight.
A few days later, Lando dropped by again to pick you up. The restaurant was chaos, dinner rush in full swing.
Matteo was plating a dish, and you were leaning over, showing him how to drizzle a sauce with perfect precision. Your hands were close — too close, to Lando’s eyes.
He felt a tiny stab of panic again. What if that closeness turned into something else? What if, one day, you realized you’d rather be with someone who understood your crazy chef hours, who worked the same brutal shifts, who got it?
By the time you finished and hurried to meet him in the back corridor, he was chewing on his lip.
“Sorry, long night,” you said, breathless.
Lando stared at you for a moment, blurting out,
“Did you have fun training him?”
You blinked. “Lando, I’m literally teaching him how to swirl sauce.”
He sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t want to be…this. I just can’t help it.”
You stepped closer, gripping his jacket.
“Then let’s fix it. Tell me what you need. Less Matteo talk? More of me reassuring you? More alone time?”
He met your eyes, torn open by how willing you were to meet him halfway. “Maybe…all of that?”
The first thing you did was draw a new line at work. That night, you pulled Matteo aside.
“I like the way you’re working, but ease off on the jokes, okay? I’m trying to keep this professional.”
Matteo raised a brow. “You got it, Chef.”
It wasn’t that he’d done anything wrong, exactly — but you wanted to make sure there was no fuel for Lando’s worries.
That weekend, you invited Lando to spend the night, just the two of you, phones off, no social media, no distractions. You made him laugh until his sides hurt, wrapped him in all the affection he’d ever given you, and showed him that yes, he was more than enough.
Later, when you were tangled together under the blankets, skin warm and hearts even warmer, he kissed your forehead, breath soft against your hair.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“For not making me feel stupid. For listening. For loving me.”
You pulled back so you could see his eyes, clear and trusting in the moonlight.
“Always,” you promised. “I was the jealous one for ages, remember? You held me through it. I’ll hold you through this.”
He smiled, finally — really smiled, all that brightness returning to him. “You’re the best.”
“No,” you teased, “we’re the best.”
He kissed you again, slow and certain, as if he finally believed it. And that night, wrapped in his arms, you realized something important: love wasn’t about never feeling insecure.
It was about trusting each other enough to say, I’m scared — please stay.
And you would. For him, you always would.
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