boyfriend!lando who has absolutely zero skin care routine beyond using whichever one of your skin care products that catch his eye.
your side of the bathroom counter always catches his eye. all the gits abd gadgets, and makeup, and.. skincare. hm.
picking the clear bottle of facial cleanser up, he turns it around, mumbling to himself as he reads the instructions. not the ingredients— who reads ingredients these days.
in the end, he just shrugs and uses it anyways, knowing that if you use it, it must be good.
boyfriend!lando who is a professional rage baiter. he enjoys the back and forth. especially when you actually kind of get angry with him.
boyfriend!lando who totally steals all of your lingo, despite also making fun of your american accent. the first time you heard him say yall, you thought you were going crazy. how many people can say they’re heard a british person say yall before?? it doesn’t sound right.
“i’m overly hungry right now,” lando says, hand on his very hungry stomach.
you whipped your head around. “you’re what?-“
or, when he asked you, verbatim, who is you feeling like.
you almost beat his ass.
boyfriend!lando who actually acts like he’s about to die when you drive instead of him. he trusts you to not crash his car, but he’s admittedly a terrible passenger.
“hey- hey, slow down.”
you huff, side eyeing him. “i know you’re not talking-“
“eyes on the road!” he gestures wildly in front of the very empty road ahead of you two, his tone carrying hints of actual anger. maybe even fear.
and, yeah. you did put your eyes back on the road. but only because it’s illegal not to.
boyfriend!lando who always drives with one hand when you’re in the passenger seat. mostly because you said it was hot once, but also because he’s either holding your hand or your thigh.
boyfriend!lando who pays for literally everything. as a man with enough money to last a lifetime, his favorite(more or less) pastime is to spend it on the people he loves. and, he happens to love you very much.
he only acts annoyed when the price is high. he knows he’ll pay it regardless.
boyfriend!lando who’s your personal cameraman. he might never take pictures of himself, but he’s absolutely amazing of taking pictures of you.
“oh my god- girl, who took these?” your friends always ask.
“oh- my man took them,” you always say, with a shrug. as if it’s just normal. asking— do your boyfriends not take your pictures for you, too? which, you knew the answer too, anyways.
in which you go golfing with your golf obsessed husband..
warnings (light)smau , blackfem! reader(nameless), face claim : randos from pintrest, fluff, use of y/n(im very sorry for this..), barely proofread beware
florida kilos • lana del rey
liked by lando, alexandramalenaleclerc, rebeccadonaldson, lilymhe, and others
yourusername i hate golf
lilymhe so you must hate me then…😒
yourusername i could never hate you, queen😣
alexandramalenaleclerc ❤️❤️❤️ liked by author
rebeccadonaldson beautiful girl❤️ liked by author
yourbsfusername body teaaa 🤏🏽 liked by author
yourusername ikdr 😘🤏🏾
yourbsfusername my girl😍😍 liked by author
yourusername my mannn🥹
yourbsfusername mind you, i was here first liked by author
yourusername it’s always been you anyways
user OMG SHE POSTED HIM
user omg lando dragged her along even though he knows he hates golf😂😂😂
user the pr is pring
user “pr” but they’ve been together probably as long as you’ve been alive
user oh the cope is insane
user get a grip bro🤣✌️
….
not that lando norris was the best golfer in the world, or anything.
but if there’s one sport he enjoyed doing nearly half as much as driving cars in circles for an hour, it was hitting balls with a stick.
you always tried your hardest to avoid having to join him out on the course— no matter how bad you felt, seeing how dejected he looked when you denied his requests. unfortunately, people who love you also probably enjoy your presence as well.
“what did you even send me over here to get?” you huff, looking over your shoulder. all the clubs in the golf bag looked the exact same to you. maybe past the big fat one staring at you, front and center at the top of the bag. everyone knows that one- the… driver, or something. everyone knew that.
you heard him groan from the green. so dramatic— you could almost feel him rolling his eyes. not that you planned on turning around to confirm, being as you were too concerned with trying to identify at least one of these clubs. maybe it’d help you remember what he made you go look in his golf bag for?..
maybe not.
“y/n,” he drags, slowing down as if he was talking to a child, “the pitching wedge. the little silver one? with the ‘p’ on it?"
he gestured vaguely toward his bag where it clearly sat in its designated spot.
"you’ve seen me use it before- like… every other hole?"
“ohh!!..” you say, nodding, as if that suddenly made it click to you. and maybe you’d managed to convince yourself that it did click, but you and him both knew you still had no idea what the hell a pitching wedge was.
“…is it this?” you ask, picking out the skinny, flat one. you looked over your shoulder at him, from your place behind the cart, fully expecting a firm no. but, you smiled when you realized that you actually got it right!
“yes!- yes, that one,” he nods, extending his arm, “bring it here.”
you hummed, walking up from the path to the green, taking the club he previously had in exchange for the one you had in your hand.
“thank ya’,” he hums, looking down at the club in his hand as if confirming that you actually got it right. “watch this shot,” he says, placing his ball down.
*puck!-*
and it’s off. these golf-freaks have got to be kidding themselves, shading their eyes with their hands as if they could see that tiny-ass ball as it flies through the sky.
for all you know, a bird could’ve snatched it up, and was taking it back to its nest as they spoke.
“mint,” he whispers to himself, doing a little celebratory first bump. “you saw how far that went?”
….
“Uh..” you scratch the back of your neck.
The urge to lie was strong.
but, you gave up at the thought of having to actually keep up with said lie. you were never really all that good at that, and he was all too good at seeing straight through you.
“to be frank- i... i lost sight of it like,” you pause, “like, as soon as you hit it. but, i’m sure it went far! i trust you. and stuff.”
great save.
after a million(four) more holes, you suddenly remembered why you always try your absolute hardest to avoid joining him out here, no matter how much it pains you to see his disappointed face. because, in short, golf is boring.
of course, no shade to the people who do like it. but, over the years, you’ve gotten all too used to fast paced, aggressive racing.
you’ve stuck to sitting in the cart since he’d fired you from caddie duty. it was hot outside, anyways. you were thankful for the shade. at least he let you drive the cart. that’s gotta count for something.
“ayee.. lemme drive da boat,” you mutter to yourself, thinking of that infamous kodak black video. sliding into the drivers seat, you huff. he was still doing.. whatever the hell he was doing— trying to aim his shot?
no way golfing is that hard to where he has to get all up on the ground like that. you snorted to yourself, reaching for your phone.
…
you couldn’t help yourself— giggling down at your phone. no one was funnier than you. something lando knew well, of course. comedians should be rejoicing the fact that you decided to be humble. sparing them by taking the motorsport route.
the cursive font really adds a bit of depth to it-
“what’re you over there giggling at?”
you nearly jumped out of your own skin. “uh.. when did you get over here?..”
“uh.. just now?” he says, in that sassy little tone of his.
okay- silly question. but seriously, he was just over there. but still. “oh- that sounded really bratty,” you huff.
“where to next?” you say, foot on the gas. that story put you in a better mood.
“the next hole.”
“…right.”
he was supposed to say home. but, you supposed you got a little ahead of yourself there.
…
if you didn’t like this pls spare me and don’t tell me
in which you— an f1 driver for redbull— meet richard ríos through a silly little video for redbull.
mostly proofread
#richard rios #fluff #fanfic
there’s a reason why redbull was worth 27 billion dollars.
and, it wasn’t because of the drinks. although that was a big part of it, their 80 billion(…more or less) other factions definitely helped.
if you really think about it, the whole sports thing they have going on kind of makes sense. with them being an energy drink company and all, it was pretty fitting. however, having two formula one teams was unarguably excessive.
you had managed to climb the ranks, moving from redbull sugar free up to the big boy seat, right next to verstappen himself. having verstappen approve you to be his teammate(because, he for some reason has a say in decisions such as those) was a feat in itself. never mind the fact that she was the only ethically non-european woman to do so. or, have an f1 seat period, for that matter.
these days, the not-so-little golden boy wasn’t too fond of media appearances. which, the pr team wasn’t too upset about, given they had a living, breathing moneymaker on their hands, in the form of a woman who just so happened to be very easy on the eyes.
your athletic abilities went as far as you needed them to. aka, exclusively to things needed for racing.
…aka, you weren’t athletic at all.
the pr team knew this. yet, you still somehow found yourself on a soccer field, surrounded by an endless sea of cameras and microphones, waiting for whoever your collaborator was supposed to be to show up. they gave you little information past “you’ll be working with another redbull athlete for a fun little video,” then they slapped a redbull soccer kit and some cleats on you, and fed you some lines to say to the camera when the time came to film.
you’d been standing off to the side, looking down at your phone as you idly sipped on a coffee they’d so graciously provided for you this morning on the way out to the stadium. 30 minutes ago, they told you your collaborator would arrive.
…it’s been thirty minutes.
however, you’d been too focused on scrolling through your own instagram page to notice. of course, until you heard voices echoing through the tunnel. you looked up, only for a moment. but in that moment, he caught your eye immediately.
he?
who was he?-
you must have been looking pretty hard. at least, hard enough to catch his eye.
his eyes picked up from the ground, instantly finding yours. and in a gesture you could only assume was kind, he smiled. not an ear to ear smile— no. that’d be a little much coming from someone you don’t even know the name of. but, a smile is a smile nonetheless. and despite how your knees nearly gave out beneath you, you’d managed to smile back. not before nervously caving and looking away.
“who’s.. who’s that?” you muttered to the staff member beside you. your pr manager, who was obviously there with you, just like all the other staff. she looked up, following the line of your eyes.
“him?- uh.. that’s Richard Ríos. football-“ she pauses, “soccer player,” she corrects. as if your pea sized american brain wouldn’t an couldn’t handle a discrepancy between british and american english.
“oh.. oh- you tryna’ be funny..” you laugh shortly, face dropping. her laughter that followed only served to anger you a bit more. well.. not really, but still. “no, but- for real, who is he?..”
“uhh… your collaborator?” she raises a brow. “what- you think he’s cute?” she snorts, as if this was just.. peak comedy.
cute, is an understatement.
…
the first meeting was awkward. only for you, really. he had a voice to match his handsome face. which, you really weren’t expecting.
but at the same time, you weren’t expecting to be blessed with a collaborator like him today, either.
you’d nearly shit your pants when they told you why you were really here.
to practice soccer drills with a soccer player. but, if you read in between the lines, you’ll see that you were really here to make an absolute fool out of yourself in front of a cute(more than cute) guy.
…
“so- do you have any experience in football, or-“ the host asks, referring to you, of course. you snorted, shaking your head no immediately. “no, i don’t.”
“oh. do you watch the matches?-“
“uh…” your eyes dart to Richard, standing beside you. he had this smile on his face. the same one he’d worn when he walked in, his eyes squinted slightly from the glare of the sun.
the hosts’ face lit up like he’d struck gold. “what’s- what’s his team name?” he asked, laughing softly as he gestured to richard.
“uh- uh..” you’d said, snapping your fingers in the air as you tried to remember. “wait- wait i know this,” you paused. “wait-“ you laughs, “wait- don’t put me on the spot-“
“you don’t even know what team i play for?” richard pitches in from the side. “damn,” he adds, feigning disappointment as he kissed his teeth, and shook his head. but, that smile didn’t leave his face.
“oh my god, not too much on me,” you laugh, trying to ignore the way your heart suddenly started beating faster in your chest.
not when the cameras are around.
…
kick the ball through the mini cones… or something. thats what the host had them doing first, for this video. he’d left it to richard to explain to you how to do the drill, being that he was the professional and all.
but, the entire time, you were nothing short of hypnotized.
the way the sun was hitting his skin— his tanned skin. his quads peeking out from beneath those shorts. and his voice…
richard ríos has the voice every girl dreams of. you were being lulled in, it felt like. the words just blended together. the world around him turned pink… roses— roses everywhere-
it all screeched to a halt, as you fell back to earth.
“did you get that?”
“oh- uh… yea, yea- i got it,” you assure, nodding, knowing good and well you were lying.
in the end, he definitely ended up laughing at how terrible you did. “you did better than i did the first time,” he laughs, shrugging.
…right.
…
penalty kicks.
…for scoring when you get a penalty. pretty in your face. the name makes a lot of sense, now that you think about it.
“okay- i just kick it?” you ask, turning over your shoulder to look at him.
“yea-“ he pauses, examining your stance. “no,” he corrects. “you’re too close to the goal.”
he walked forward, grabbing your forearm— gently, but firmly— to pull you backwards. he stepped back, evaluating you again.
“wait- i’m nervous,” you chuckle softly. nervous to make the goal, and totally not because of the guy looming over you. “do i just kick it?”
“yea,” he says as he gestures for you to go.
and maybe the goalie purposely dived to the right when the ball was clearly going left. but, you made the goal!
you gasped, immediately jumping up. and, he smiled. no hug was offered, but.. high fives were cool, too.
….
if there’s one thing that rich people loved more than shattering champagne glasses on yachts, it was sitting around, larping as philanthropists.
that’s why they created charity events.
you’d been invited to this one. along with a whole bunch of sponsors, and other red bull athletes, and… influencers, for some reason.
you stood off to the side, by yourself. not even max had the decency to show up. annoying as it was that he could get away with shit like that, you didn’t necessarily blame him for it. one can only fake laugh so many times before feeling like choking someone out.
even the drinks. just water and soda. and don’t forget the redbull, of course. can’t forget the redbull.
what kind of event was this?
the view from inside the venue was nice, at least.
the view from inside the venue was nice, too.
you found yourself taking pictures in your phone. maybe you post them on your story later.
the large, ornate building sat on a hill, overlooking the mediterranean sea. yellow lighting washed over the room, coming from the large chandeliers that decorated the ceiling. like the ones that fall on people in movies for a comedic relief. you almost wished that would happen right now, as that would most definitely make your night more interesting. but, you cringed when you realized this wasn’t a movie, and a chandelier falling on someone could definitely be deadly.
“y/n?”
“huh?” you’d respond reflexively, turning over your shoulder, as you lowered your phone. “oh- hi,” you smile, waving— as if he wasn’t literally right there. your body was on autopilot, taking over for your brain that had went rogue seeing the same man from a week or two ago.
“richard, right?” you tilt your head to the side, brows slightly furrowed. “you… i didn’t know you’d be here,” you finished with a light chuckle.
“i could say the same for you,” he says, returning your smile. “you look beautiful tonight. i saw you- i thought i’d just come over to.. let you know,” he shrugs.
“i..” you pause. he said it so casually. it just rolled off of his tongue, as if it was something he truly believed. which- of course he did, right? he wouldn’t say it if not. however, you weren’t exactly used to guys just outright saying stuff like that, so casually, as if not expecting anything in return.
“thank you,” you smile, heart thumping faster again, just like the first time you saw him. “you’re- you’re not here with anyone?”
you couldn’t help but ask.
“nah,” he shakes his head. he had a look on his face, as if he knew why you’d asked him. but, he didn’t move to point it out, or call you out, for matter. “you’re not either, i don’t think? at least, not if you’re over here by yourself.”
“oh- no, i’m not,” you were quick to affirm. “i just..” you trail off with a shrug, looking over all the people here. everyone who wasn’t an influencer just looked rich and stuck up.
“don’t know anyone?” he offered. and, you were silent for a moment. but, you nodded in the end. “yea. just- you, i guess.”
“well- you should’ve came and found me. i would’ve kept you company,” he says playfully, smiling again.
and, he stayed with her the whole entire night. no one really made a move to come up to them. probably because of how isolated they were from the crowd.
but, you weren’t complaining.
the conversation wasn’t exactly long enough to know whether or not you had things in common, or to know his goals, or this, or that, and yadda yadda yadda-
but it was enough to know that he wasnt just putting on an act that day during filming, or even when he walked up.
he didn’t want anything from you. past, a good conversation.
you two had found yourselves laughing, more often than not. he was a good guy, you’d gotten that much.
he even walked you to your car. even though his wasn’t even in the same parking garage as yours— something he’d mentioned in passing, however you still picked it up nonetheless.
“you swear you’re not cold?-“
“richard- i swear. i’m fine,” you say, denying the offer fit his blazer that he’d already taken off four offers ago. “i’m not cold, but thank you anyways.”
“you literally have goosebumps.”
…
he’d managed to convince you to take the blazer. which, smelt very good. you’d told yourself you’d give it back before you got into your car, but found yourself opening the door with it still on.
thankfully, he was still standing behind you, just beside your car.
“uh- oh shit, your jacket,” you say, moving to take it on.
“no, it’s fine.”
your brows furrow. “you.. you don’t want it back?”
he’d managed to convince her to take the blazer. which, smelt very good. she’d told herself she’d give it back before she got into her car, but found herself opening the door with it still on.
thankfully, he was still standing behind you, just beside your car.
“uh- oh shit, your jacket,” she said, moving to take it on.
“no, it’s fine.”
her brows furrow. “you.. you don’t want it back?”
“nah- it’s fine, i swear.”
“you sure? it looks expensive.” you sigh, “i.. i’d just really feel bad, keeping your jacket,” she huffs out a laugh.
“then… i guess you’re gonna have to see me again.” he shrugs as he puts his hand in his pockets.
you stood there, a little dumb struck, for a moment.
you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips. “is that your way of trying to get me to go out with you?”
“depends on if it’s working or not,” he says, smiling.
was that kind of corny?
well.. because it was him, it was kind of charming. which was evident from the smile it brought to your face.
“uh.. yea. yea- i.. it is,” you huff out a laugh.
“when’re you free, then?”
you look up at the sky in thought, “uh… tuesday? i believe?..”
“oh, perfect,” he shrugs, reaching for his phone. “just.. gimme your number, and i’ll text you.”
simple as that.
he waved goodbye, but still waiting for her to get in her car abd lock in before he walked away.
you hadn’t realized how deprived you’d been of genuine human interaction until you caught yourself geeking out in the front seat.
“oh.. yikes.”
hey guys… omg my first work EVER. sorry if this is too short or if the ending is too abrupt😭
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