you’re trying to remain professional, but he doesn’t really care
i mean the team is pretty much used to it by now.
that doesn’t mean you aren’t embarrassed every single time he says something affectionate over the radio.
especially because you just know it’s going to get broadcasted.
sky sports eats it up every single time
getting scared every time he crashes, but also having to stay composed.
“Are you okay? Confirm you’re okay.”
“M’ Okay. Were you worried about me?”
“Engine off.”
needed to set clear boundaries to separate your work from your relationship
there were definitely some arguments after sochi 2021
as soon as you’re both off track, work talk is BANNED
no matter how much you try to explain it, he has no idea how the car works.
“I just don’t get it. How is Red Bull so fast on the straights?”
“I told you. Their sidepod design really minimizes drag while still optimizing down force. It’s actually pretty brilliant-“
“Yeah, okay- but, like, how are they so fast?”
“You’re lucky you’re pretty.”
him defending you in the media when bad strategy calls are made
you cheering him up in the garage after a dnf.
you making regular appearances on lando.jpeg.
constantly posting him on your story.
representing mclaren on the podium for his first win and celebrating with him!!
champagne kisses omg
surprise cameos in mclaren media videos and in the media pen!
occasionally making appearances on stream and in Quadrant videos.
always being paired together in the team videos! you carrying the both of you in the jeopardy video with your knowledge of F1.
him carrying the two of you in the mario kart video because as smart as you may be, you are a terrible driver.
the both of you facing a bit of controversy in both your shared workplace and on social media
having to deal with nosy reporters
“I guess it can be tough sometimes- but I love what I do, and I love being a part of this team. Lando is my best friend, and my partner in every sense of the word. We support each other and understand the unique demands of our careers.
Honestly, being in love with someone who shares your passion for the same thing is incredibly special. We get to experience some of the most exciting moments of our lives together, and that's something I wouldn't trade for anything."
with both of your very busy lives, you definitely prefer staying in whenever you get the chance.
much of summer break is spent snuggling under the covers and binging all the tv shows that you missed during the season.
always being the first person to congratulate him over the radio! and the first one he goes to after getting out of the car.
“That’s P5 Lando! Incredible drive, love.”
“The car was beautiful today, let’s keep up the good work!”
“Recharge on, darling.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
passing notes to each other during briefing sessions
one time zac caught you passing lando a note and made you read it out loud.
“You’re so cute when you’re not paying attention.”
in conclusion you two would be the most dynamic duo in the paddock ok thank you bye
summary; opportunity knocks for alpha tauri racing driver y/n y/l/n.
word count; 3.1k
a/n; sorry this one took so long, and thanks for all the love on part one <333
.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.
As a Formula 1 driver, flying commercial was a rare occasion. Private jets were often only a call away, especially when it came to getting to the next race location.
You had been sitting in the Austin airport lounge for hours before deciding that you couldn't take any more waiting.
"Yuki." You whispered, turning towards the boy in the chair next to you. Quiet snores escaped his lips, tired eyes shut in a peaceful nap.
"Yuki." You repeated, giving him a small nudge. Nothing.
"Wake up." You tried again, shaking him with a bit more purpose. He suddenly awoke, albeit not very happily.
"What?" He frowned, perhaps still half asleep.
"There's a Delta flight to Mexico City in 30 minutes. I'm getting on." You told him, checking your phone again to make sure you knew the time.
"Are you crazy?" He squinted at you. You stared at him, the chewing gum in your mouth stilling between your teeth.
"No, I'm bored." You muttered. "Jet was supposed to be here four hours ago." You complained, stuffing your things in your back pack. Yuki shrugged, leaning back into his comfy chair.
Throwing your bag over your shoulder, you grabbed the carry on next to you and headed out the door.
The airport was loud, the midday rush of passengers and staff alike all running through the wide terminal to make it to their gate.
You stopped in front of a large screen displaying the incoming and outgoing flights, quickly scanning for your last minute plane to Mexico.
"E17." You said out loud, finding it amongst the rest of the schedule. According to this, it was set to board in just a few minutes.
"Y/N Y/L/N?" A voice spoke up from behind you. You spun on your heels, meeting the gaze of a tall woman holding the hand of a young child, an impossibly large grin pulling at her red lips.
"Hello." You smiled back, waving with your free hand. The woman awkwardly took a step and a half towards you.
"Wow, this is so crazy." She laughed. "It's Y/N Y/L/N!" She turned to her little girl, who was too busy staring up at you with an adorable intensity.
You glanced at the clock, trying to gauge how much time you could spend saying hi to the two without missing your flight.
"You're her favorite driver." The mom chuckled.
"Aww," You looked down at her. "Thank you so much!" Crouching down, you put out a hand for a high five. The girl looked up at her mom, as if to silently ask if it was okay to accept the offer. The mother nodded and smiled, encouraging the little one.
Instead of meeting you in the middle for a quick hi five, the girl ran into you for a hug, momentarily causing you to lose balance.
"I'm so sorry!" The mom exclaimed from in front of you, but you hardly minded. The girl must've been only 5 or 6, her little arms barely long enough to reach around your sides.
You gave her a quick squeeze before letting go, standing up with a smile.
"Don't worry about it." You assured. "It's so nice to meet you! What's your name?" You asked her. She didn't respond, instead running back to hide behind her mom.
"Melanie." The mom answered for her. "I'm Jocelyn. It's really so great to meet you. I hope we're not keeping you!" You shook your head.
"Not at all." A bit of a lie, but you didn't care all that much.
"Could we get a picture?" She seemed embarrassed to ask.
"Of course!" You grinned, posing for a selfie with the three of them. After, you took the cap off of your head, pulling out a sharpie from your bag.
"Oh no-" Jocelyn began to protest, but you put up a hand.
"It's no big deal." You replied, signing the cap before putting it onto the small girls head. She beamed up at you.
"Thank you so much." Jocelyn expressed. "What do you say?"
"Thank you!" Her little voice was enough to melt your heart, your hand coming up to clutch at your chest.
"You're so welcome! Have a great day, guys." You waved one more good bye before running off. You could hear their shared excitements as you dashed towards your gate, bringing a warm smile to your face.
You had reached the gate just as boarding was finishing up, sprinting to the front desk with the pass in hand.
She scanned the digital pass, not hiding the way she rolled her eyes at your late arrival. You mumbled a quick thank you before shuffling past her, jogging down the passageway to reach the plane.
It was safe to say it had been a while since you had flown commercial. It didn't look all that bad to begin with, the first class seats very inviting in their fancy appearance. Unfortunately, those seats were reserved for people who bought their tickets a bit earlier than yourself.
23B was your seat, the only one available on such short notice. Making your way past first class, you squeezed through the line of passengers to get to your seat, groaning at the realization that you were stuck in between two strangers.
It was better than waiting another seven hours for a private jet, you tried to remind yourself. Your phone buzzed as you sat down.
Yuki TsuGOATa
jet is here
.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.
"You flew economy?" Natalie gawked, meeting you outside the Mexico City airport. You glared at her. Her hands flew up in defense.
"Did you get me a driver?" You asked, stuffing your earbuds into your pockets.
"Yes, he should be here in a couple of-"
"Cancel it. I wanna drive." You decided, already walking towards the rental building.
Natalie held the bridge of her nose, letting out a sigh before running to catch up with you.
"Your hair looks terrible." She commented. You shrugged.
"Gave my last hat to a kid." You smiled at the recent memory.
"Cute." She replied, typing out something on her phone while her heels clacked away on the side walk.
Just the thought of driving was enough to you plenty excited, your feet carrying you to the entrance in a quick pace.
The one desk that occupied the room was empty. You went ahead and rang the bell that sat on the counter. This seemed to do the trick, the sound of shuffling feet could be heard from beyond the door behind the desk. A short man emerged just as Natalie entered the little office behind you.
"How can I help you?" He smiled.
"Looking to rent a car." You explained. "Just for tonight." You added on. Someone could probably return it for you the next day.
"Understood." He answered back, booting up the old looking computer in front of him. "What are you looking for?" He asked, looking back up at you. You thought for a moment.
"Anything fast?" You shrugged, not feeling super picky. The man clicked his tongue, eyes scanning the screen.
After a couple of mouse clicks, he squatted down, rooting through a drawer before handing you a set of keys.
"Thank you!" You bit down on your bottom lip, itching to get into the front seat.
"Just need a couple of things." The man added, his thick accent causing you to miss a word or two. Natalie sighed, stepping in front of you.
"I got it. Go ahead, I'll go with the driver."
You cracked a grin, mouthing a thank you before practically running out the door.
You weren't sure what you were expecting, but this certainly wasn't it. Rooting through your pocket for the key, you clicked to unlock the car, surprising yourself when the car beeped in response.
"Is this even street legal..?" You mumbled to yourself as you climbed into the front seat of the blue Lotus Evora.
The sound of the engine purring on stirred a fuzzy feeling in your stomach.
You loved driving your single seater, but there was just something about being in control of a road car that had you obsessed.
The leather steering wheel felt like silk under the pads of your fingers. Pressing down on the gas, you melted at the smoothness of its drive, pulling out of the parking spot with acute precision.
You were anxious to get out on the road, hastily padding your hotel address into the GPS. It was a 20 minute drive, with little highway time and plenty of stop lights. Absolutely not.
Cancelling the route, you thoughtlessly drove out of the parking garage, turning onto a street you'd never been on before, with the express purpose of getting lost on the Mexico City streets.
It didn't take long to find a highway, the long strip of endless road inviting you to tease the acceleration just a bit more. The speedometer rose with every wheel rotation, the rolling scenes behind your window blurring by.
You hadn't had a proper moment to yourself since finding out about the prospective Red Bull seat. Now, as you found yourself out on the open road, you couldn't help but let your mind wander to the topic.
You hadn't spoken to Horner since that night at the club. In fact, you hadn't spoken to Franz, or Yuki, or even Natalie about the surprise news. The only person who knew was Lando, a fact he did not let you forget.
He had been blowing up your phone for days, his contact filling up your notification center with rapid fire text messages. Somehow, he seemed more invested in the state of your 2023 seat than you were.
Your only goal was to not get your hopes up. Christian Horner was a sly guy, and you knew better than to ride your hopes and dreams on his word.
That didn't stop you from imagining how the suit would feel on your skin, however. You wouldn't mind a couple more trophies either.
Maybe the seat would fit a little better, the car would certainly plow through the field faster than your Alpha Tauri—
No. This was exactly what you didn't need happening. More than likely, the seat at Red Bull would never be brought up again, and you would drive a couple more years for their sister team before being replaced by someone younger and faster.
The car vibrated below you, reminding you that driving did require some sort of focus. You pulled your attention back onto the road ahead, hoping it would help clear your mind.
You were lucky not to crash into the cliff side when your phone suddenly rang, throwing you off your groove.
You brought a finger up to the console, accepting the call with a frustrated sigh.
"Hello?" Expecting Natalie to be on the other line, you did little to hide your less than thrilled mood.
"Y/N?"
Your eyes blew wide, hands flinching over the steering wheel.
"Christian! How are you?" Good save.
"Great, great." He trailed off, clearly not looking for small talk. "So hey, Checo's going to be out this weekend." Your grip tightened. "How would you feel about driving for us?"
Well, that wasn't expected.
"Y/N?" He spoke up again, awaiting your response.
Eyes on the road. Foot on the gas. Check mirrors. Turn signal, switch lanes. Mirrors. Foot on the gas. Gas. Gas.
"Y/N? You there?"
110. 125. 140. Flat out.
"Y/N, are you driving this weekend or not?"
"Of course." You choked out, lifting your foot off of the acceleration. You shook your head, breaking away from your dissociation.
"Great to hear it. Come down to the Red Bull office tomorrow and we'll get your seat fitted." Then he was gone, and suddenly you felt so wrong to be alone on the highway. Without thinking, you dialed Lando's number.
"Lando!" You shouted out, hints of a smile creeping onto your face the instant he picked up.
"Hey." He yawned.
"I'm a Red Bull driver this weekend." You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, unable to tease the news. The line stayed quiet. You held your breath.
"No way."
"Yes way!" You squealed.
"Who's car?"
You could hardly remember the conversation, if you could even call it that; you practically blacked out.
"Perez." You remembered aloud.
"That’s insane! Did you land in Mexico yet?" The question took a minute to register, lost amidst the flood of thoughts racing through your mind. Turning onto the next exit, you blew out a hot breath.
"I'm on my way to the hotel now." You cleared your throat.
"Mental." He breathed out. "Well hey, lemme know when you get there. I gotta run."
"Will do." You nodded, stopping at a red light. The stillness of the car felt unnatural against the intense beating of your heart.
"And Y/N?"
"Yeah?" You smiled to yourself.
"Congratulations."
.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.
"Thank you so much for being on the show- How are you today?"
You swayed the swivel chair left and right at a slow pace, fingers toying with the string of your branded hoodie. The interviewer sat across from you, face partially obscured by the mic setups.
"Doing alright!" You tried your best to sound excited, the lack of camera forcing you to be extra emotive in your tone.
A few weeks back, you had been tagged in a video of a female led, Formula 1 podcast based in the Mexico City. You didn't usually do podcasts- you much preferred listening to them- but it had seemed like a fun opportunity and a good way to encourage female involvement in motorsports. When you reached out to the two girls, they didn't hesitate to accept your offer to come on the show. It was probably the thing you were most looking forward to that week; of course, that was before you found out you were to be racing for Red Bull.
Christian told you to be at the office at 2 pm. It was noon.
"Glad to hear it!" The younger girl, Camila, chirped.
"You really are such an inspiration for little girls all across the globe." Lea, the older one, remarked.
"Well, thank you." You grinned sheepishly. "I'm so lucky to be where I am today. And I'm even luckier to have such an impact on so many people, especially young women. Racing has always been such a man's world, and I'm glad that we're finally beginning to break that mold."
"Absolutely. Interest in the sport has certainly come a long way in recent years, and we've definitely been seeing a lot more participation in lower level competition from female racers. Unfortunately, there still doesn't seem to be many female drivers in more serious series. Could you give us some insight on why that is?"
"Yeah, for sure." You sighed out. "I really do think its the lack of support. Despite the growing number of women interested in racing, there is such a clear lack of support in helping those young women the same way that young men are helped. They aren't taken seriously because they don't fit the definition of what people think a racing driver should be." You explained, keeping an eye on the ticking clock.
"If there's no support on lower levels, like karting, then there's no opportunity for those girls to get the experience they need to move up." You finished, running a hand through your hair.
"Completely agree." Camila enthusiastically nodded. "Your racing career has been," She paused, thinking of a proper word.
"Extensive." Lea cut in, making you laugh. "Could you walk us and the listeners through it?" You blew out a hot breath.
"How much time do I have?" You joked. "Well, I always sort of knew that I wanted to race. My parents supported me to the tenth degree, to the point where they moved to Italy just to get me closer to the scene. My first real competition was the ACI karting championship, which I won in my first go." You reflected, the memories of karting bringing up a lot of mixed feelings.
"Let's see, I placed third in the WSK champion's cup, fifth in the Easykart International Grand Final, and then finally won the WSK Euro Series; all of which took place over a year or two. It certainly wasn't easy," You added on. "The discrimination I faced for daring to compete and win as a young girl was brutal. Definitely thought about quitting a couple times in my early years."
"When I was old enough, I signed on with Prema to race in Italian F4. I didn't win, but second place was enough for them to send me to the UK to compete in the British F4 championship. That one, I did win." You grinned proudly.
"From there I joined the Red Bull Driver Academy, uh, raced in the regional European F3 championship, which I placed," You stopped, getting the years mixed up in your head.
"Fourth." Camila finished for you, her eyes full of stars as you recounted your experiences.
"Right, thank you." You smiled. "Fourth. Then came F2 back in 2020, where I drove for Red Bull and missed out on first to Mick, and then..." You trailed off. "You know the rest."
"Formula 1." Lea concluded.
The rest of the podcast went on smoothly, although you certainly did do your best to hurry the conversation along for time's sake. You felt bad rushing through the interview, and there were surely a couple of moments where you almost slipped and spilled the news. You could almost hear Christian's nagging voice echoing in your head, snapping at you to keep it hush hush until Thursday.
"Well, thanks again, Y/N! Truly!" Lea began to wrap up, just in time too.
"Of course, thank you so so much for having me." You replied. After a hasty goodbye, you were out the door and on your way to the seat fitting.
After talking so much about your career; about all the trials and tribulations it took to get where you were, you became fueled with a sudden surge of confidence. You deserved this opportunity. Lando knew it, Christian Horner knew it, and you certainly knew it, too.
This was going to be your moment, your race to lose or win, and you weren't going to blow it.
.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.
tag list; @laura-naruto-fan1998 @honethatty12 @caosfanblr @xgallysonegoodlung @atlanticowe
summary; alpha tauri’s first female driver has a day.
word count; 3.7k
a/n; part one of a multi chapter fic! will be an eventual driver x reader, just not sure which driver yet lololol. also i wrote the first half of this before the race, which is why a lot of the results don’t line up whoops
The muffled voice of your engineer repeated over the radio.
"I'm fine." You mumbled back. Not waiting to hear a confirmation, you began maneuvering out of your seat, careful to avoid any scraps of metal torn off the body of the car.
A sigh escaped your chapped lips as you gave the car a once over. It certainly wasn't a pretty sight; the back half had taken the worst blow, rear wing nowhere in sight. It could've been a lot worse, though.
Thankfully, when your rear wheel had been touched, sending you off the track, you had managed to somewhat get control of the spin before getting thrown into the wall. If you weren't so pissed about DNFing, you would've been impressed with your reaction.
You lifted your gaze away from the car, just in time to see a limping Latifi rolling back onto the track before skidding away. Figures.
Now that you were out, you could check on the other victim of Latifi's most recent murder attempt. You winced at the soreness of your legs as you jogged to the McLaren.
You didn't quite catch the incident, but you assumed that it was probably the McLaren who had spun onto your wheel, only after being clipped himself by the Williams.
The other driver seemed to have had it a bit worse than you. His left sidepod was lodged into the barrier, the nose, at least what was left of it, angled into the wall. The back remained mostly untouched, save for a nasty hit on the rear wing. You clicked your tongue. Must've been a nasty impact.
You caught a glimpse of the driver’s helmet on your way to the car. Poor Lando.
The marshals had reached him first, standing around the car while he hopped out. Then began the work to get those cars off the track.
Meanwhile, you and Lando only had so much time to breathe before having to head back. Thankfully, the crash had occurred at the end of the main straight, which meant that the walk of shame back to the garages wouldn't be too long.
Once you had gotten off the track, you were able to slip the helmet off. Thank goodness, because between your headache from the crash and the Austin heat, you were just about ready to pass out under that suffocating helmet. You tried to keep your head down, not really in the mood for the crowd's pitying stares.
“Latifi." Lando groaned, catching up to you.
"Latifi." You repeated through a breath. The two of you walked along side of each other, helmets in hand.
"Did he clip your rear?" You asked, blowing a strand of hair out of your face.
"Tried moving to my outside to pass." Lando nodded, confirming your suspicions.
"Maybe he sneezed mid-overtake. You never know." You joked dryly. Lando scoffed.
"I think you're giving him too much credit." Lando rolled his eyes. Teasing the driver was an easy distraction from the fact that the two of you had lost out on possible points.
You made simple small talk during the walk back, giving each other your own perspectives of the race before ending up in the wall. And, of course, came the inevitable Latifi slights.
"I'll never understand how someone ends up 21st in a 20 driver championship." You laughed. Lando shrugged.
"I'll never understand how he gained 20th back." The two of you had finally reached the pit lane, a couple of team members from your respective garages coming up to meet you.
"How many laps left?" You asked one of the crew members. He told you 31, to which you groaned. Turning back to Lando, you waved a quick goodbye.
"Smashing race, Lando!" You mused. He shook his head with a smile before walking off to the McLaren garage.
The Alpha Tauri garage was fairly uneventful. Franz gave you a quick pat on the back on your way in. "Come over to the wall when you can." He yelled over the bustling pit lane.
You gave the principal a quick thumbs up before heading inside, the pit crew already waiting inside to give their condolences.
To be completely honest, you weren't feeling too upset about the unfortunate end to your race. Maybe it was because you knew it wasn't your fault, maybe it was the heat getting to you- either way, you felt content to slump down in a fold out chair in the back of the garage.
You knew that you eventually had to head back out to join Franz and the engineers on the pit wall, but you didn't see the harm in giving yourself a couple seconds to unwind after such a troubling crash.
Now that the adrenaline had all but dissipated from your system, the soreness in your legs was feeling a bit worse, and a new pain had formed in-between your shoulder blades.
"Y/N! Everything alright? That looked nasty." Your PR manager appeared, causing you to jump in surprise. "Oh, sorry." She laughed, bringing a hand up to her chest.
"All good, Nat." You responded with a smile, leaning back into your chair. "Sky come racing down yet?"
"Not yet. Think they're stopping at McLaren first. They'll be around soon though. If you get to the pit wall quick enough they might not bother you." She handed you your cell phone.
"Guess I better get out there then." You yawned, slowly stretching out of the seat. You winced at the soreness, eliciting a frown from Natalie.
"Want me to get the medic over here?" She asked, walking you across the garage. You shook your head.
"Just need a massage. I'll be fine." You assured her. She pursed her lips, not sure if you could be trusted. Ultimately, she gave in.
"Alright, whatever you say. Sorry about the race." She waved you off before turning on her heels to go back inside.
After waiting for a Mercedes to pass, you jogged across the pit lane, hopping up onto a pit wall stool with a grunt.
You slipped on a headset, quickly checking the screens in front of you to get a sense of how the race was running.
The Mercedes that had just crossed your path was Hamilton's. He had come back onto the track in 5th, just ahead of Perez.
Max was running in first, little surprise there, with Sainz in second and Leclerc in a comfortable third. A ways behind the Ferrari, Russel had gained some generous distance between him and P5, a gift from Lewis's first pit stop of the race.
The rest of the grid was nothing out of the ordinary, save for Yuki, who was fighting hard to maintain a surprising P9. You would make sure to congratulate your teammate after the race was over, whether or not he ended up keeping the position.
"Any update on a penalty for Latifi?" You spoke into the headset at 20 laps to go.
"It is being investigated. Should find out in a couple laps." Your engineer's thick French accent spoke.
With only so many laps left, and Latifi running on a set of fresh hards, you assumed it would be a post race penalty. A penalty, mind you, that would serve no purpose, as Latifi had been crawling through the track in last place since the collision.
Speaking of said collision, you decided to take your newfound free time to begin thinking about answers to predictable questions that were sure to come up in the media pen.
Can you explain to us what went down on track? Did you feel as though you had the potential to score crucial points before the collision? Could Lando Norris have avoided an impact with you?
'I'm sure Crofty explained it better than I could.'
'Maybe, sure.'
'Maybe, I don't know.'
All answers you wished you could give the media, but you knew better. Whatever you were going to feed them was going to have to be filled with a lot more bullshit than those perfectly fine answers.
The last laps of the race dragged on excruciatingly slow, until finally ending in a laughably predictable way. Max won, Ferrari bottled a potential win, and George Russell complained the entire time. Typical Sunday race day.
Natalie hunted you down right after the cars had been pulled in, quickly giving you a synopsis of what not to do in the pen. That's something you loved about having her as a PR manager; she never scripted your responses. More often than not, she just told you not to be an arse and sent you on your way. This time was no different.
The media pen was as bustling as ever when you strolled in, journalists pushing over each other to jot down quotes from the drivers. You slid into an empty space next to Lando, who was in the middle of an interview with F1 TV.
"It's disappointing, of course, not to score any points on such a promising weekend, but hopefully we'll back stronger for Mexico." He explained.
The interviewer thanked him before he was shuffled away by his own PR manager, and you were thrown into his spot.
"Yeah, I mean," You started after a basic enough question. "It really is unfortunate to have had our race ended like that, especially after such a successful first stint." You sighed, crossing your hands over your chest. "The team has been working so hard all weekend, and it is a shame to have no result to show for their efforts." The interviewer nodded at your response.
"Did you think that anything could have been done to prevent such an incident?"
You pursed your lips, trying to judge how much trouble you'd get in if you told the truth. Quickly glancing at Natalie, you found your PR manager staring daggers into you, as if she knew exactly what you were thinking.
“It's racing." You smiled at the interviewer with a shrug, catching Natalie nod out of the corner of your eye. "These incidents happen. The car has been brilliant all weekend, I felt like I’ve had a lot of good pace; real results were definitely reasonable and very much in reach. There’s a lot of crucial information we’ve learned from Austin that we can hopefully apply down to Mexico. I don’t know, I guess I’m trying my best to take away what few positives we got from this weekend— stay optimistic, you know? I mean that’s really all I can do.”
“Well, the fans were certainly sad to see your drive ended so soon.” She spoke, still committed to keeping the conversation on the incident.
"Yeah, you know, I really am so lucky to have such incredible fans. Austin has been so welcoming— it's really been great." That response wasn't a lie. This was only your second time racing COTA as an F1 driver, and the city had welcomed you in with open arms.
"Glad to hear it." She paused, biting her tongue for just a moment before speaking up again. "I do have to ask, on behalf of the loyal fans of the US, will we be seeing you racing again here at COTA next year?"
Oh boy. You wish you knew.
Your eyes flew to Natalie, who looked just as thrown as you.
"I'll let you know when I find out."
After a quick thanks and good bye, you were hurried to the next interviewer, and then the next, and the next. Eventually, it was over, Natalie saving you from having to answer the same questions thirty times over. On your way out, you quickly stopped by Yuki, who was talking to Sky Sports.
"Congrats on the points!" You exclaimed with a smile, patting the other driver on the back. Startled, he spun around, sighing when he realized it was just you.
The interviewer laughed, Yuki gave you a quick thumbs up, and then you were off to the paddock.
The paddock lane was busy with activity; teams running equipment to and from the garage, post-race paddock tours mingling through the buildings, the occasional driver making their way back to their own team's temporary HQ's.
You took your time getting back to the Alpha Tauri hospitality, enjoying the way the light Austin breeze ruffled through your hair. The sun was going down, which meant that, thankfully, the heat was less punishing. You unzipped the top of your overalls, tying the sleeves around your waist.
The drivers' rooms were hardly luxurious, just a small office space with a couch, a chair, and a coffee table. An air conditioning unit sat against the wall, keeping the room cool for your arrival. The chill air was a welcome shift to the dry heat you had been melting in all afternoon.
A change of clothes was waiting for you on the couch, and you couldn't have been more excited to get out of the sweaty fireproofs. Just as you began slipping on a fresh Alpha Tauri polo, you heard a soft knock at the door.
"Y/N? You decent?" Natalie's voice rang out.
"One sec." You called out, hurriedly putting on the rest of your clothes before opening up the door.
"Not sure if you feel like celebrating-" Before she could go on, you groaned, turning around to slump down onto the couch. "Max won, so Red Bull is putting together a thing."
"A thing?" You whined.
"Yuki is going. Obviously, Max and Sergio will be there." She alluded, arms folded over her chest.
"I don't have a choice." You finished her thought.
"See you there, then. I'll send you the address." And with that, she was gone.
.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.
The club floor was a cacophonous maze of drunk dancers and party-goers, all shamelessly slamming their bodies together in a syncopated rhythm. The music was deafening, shaking the floor itself with its pounding bass.
You maneuvered your way through the hoard, scanning each guest with a profound curiosity. Professionals in the racing world, masters of their own crafts, all stumbling through the crowd in tipsy hazes.
The place was bursting at the seems with excitement and energy, all in celebration of the team’s latest victory.
You were entirely lost. For the first half an hour or so, you simply wandered through the club, hoping to find a familiar enough face to strike up a conversation with.
Max found you before you could find him.
“Y/N!” His accent slurred. “Tough luck today!” You turned to greet him with a small smile.
“Is what it is. Congratulations on the win! Didn’t think you had it in you.” You quipped, eliciting a laugh from the Dutchman.
“Of course, of course.” Max paused, taking a sip of his drink. “Hey, did Christian find you yet?”
“Christian?” You repeated, raising a brow. “Not yet, why?” Before he could respond, a new person cut in, bombarding the race winner with congratulatory words. You swallowed a laugh, amused at the ambush. “Just find him!” Max shouted, before being whisked away.
Being honest, you didn’t really want to speak to Christian; it seemed like every time you did, you ended up getting yelled at. If it could be helped, you would do your best to avoid your boss for as long as it could be helped.
The night continued on in a similar fashion, team members from both Alpha Tauri and Red Bull giving their condolences, only before asking if you’d seen the man of the hour.
Despite knowing almost everyone in the club, you couldn’t help shake the feeling that you were alone, left to stumble your way through the night all by yourself. This, coupled with your unfortunate sobriety, as you were responsible for driving yourself back to the hotel, was shaping your evening up to be more of a bore than a celebration.
It wasn’t that you weren’t excited for the team— quite the opposite in fact. You’ve always sort of seen Red Bull and Alpha Tauri as two sides of the same coin. You felt their wins as if they were your own, same with the losses. Even if Max winning was becoming a natural occurrence, each time felt just as special as the last.
Maybe the sting of your DNF was still poisoning your spirit. That must’ve been it, you decided.
The far away sight of a familiar set of curls coaxed you out of your concentration. Without another thought, you squeezed your way over.
“Lando!” You exclaimed, happy to see someone you knew enough to busy yourself with. He, just like you, looked incredibly lost. “What are you doing here? Thought this was a Red Bull party.”
“Not super sure, honestly.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“Well, always glad to see you.” You grinned. “No party at McLaren tonight?” It was a bit of tease; a DNF and 17th weren’t anything to go clubbing about. He gave you a glare.
“Nothing to celebrate, really. Unlike you lot!” He gestured to the hoards of people around you two.
“Yeah, constructors. Pretty wild.” That fact had only just begun to sink in; the implications of Red Bull’s constructors win was a miraculous feat.
“You alright?” He quirked a brow at you, to which you swatted away.
“Perfectly fine! Maybe not as drunk as I’d like to be.” You scrunched your face, the craving for alcohol itching through your body.
“You drive here?” You nodded in response. “Well, I can always give you a ride if you need it.” He offered.
“Really?” You knew the two of you were friendly, but you didn’t think you were that close. He nodded.
“Yeah, I mean, I’ve got nothing else to do tonight.” He shrugged. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth. The offer was very tempting.
“Alright, Norris. I’ll take you up on that.” You decided with a smile. Not wishing to waste any time, you began making your way to the bar, Lando following close behind.
You were painfully close to the counter before bumping into none other than Christian Horner. Just your luck.
“Y/N?” He shouted over the music. It took every ounce of will power you could muster not to run away right there and then. You felt Lando’s hand touch your arm, momentarily turning your attention away from your boss.
“I’ll meet you at the bar.” He nodded towards the one object of your desire, giving you a sympathetic smile.
“Y/N, I’ve been wanting to talk to you!” Christian regained your focus, his drunken speech accentuating his accent.
“It can’t wait until tomorrow?” You half joked, not even sure if he would remember this conversation tomorrow.
“I know your contract is up,” He continued right on. “And you’ve been very patient with negotiations.” You rolled your eyes, already annoyed with where this conversation was going.
You were tired of being patient, being a team player. You wanted a contract, the one you were promised months ago. You weren’t looking forward to being told to wait for the fifth time in two weeks.
“Well, there might just be an open seat with us next year.”
Your heart dropped out of your chest right then and there. Did you hear him right?
“At- At Red Bull?” You stumbled over your words, heart rate rising exponentially. Christian brought a finger up to his lips, indicating this breaking news was still top secret.
“Just hold tight, alright?” He slurred. You nodded fiercely, suddenly very okay with playing the patient game.
A seat. At Red Bull. You didn’t see that coming.
The walk to Lando was a blur. It was a miracle you managed to keep yourself straight up before tripping into a seat at the bar.
“You get fired yet?” He mused, taking a sip from his glass. Your mouth was dry, the words stuck in your throat. His brow furrowed. “You okay?” He put down his drink.
“Red Bull.” You spit out, unable to form any full sentences.
“Red Bull.” Lando repeated slowly, confused to say the least.
“Open seat. 23’.” That was all it took for the Mclaren driver to put everything together. He slapped a hand over his mouth, letting out an excited laugh.
“Oh my god!” He exclaimed. “Actually?”
“I think!” You replied, finally breaking out in a smile. An overwhelming wave of excitement, relief, and terror flooded your systems all at once.
“You think? Is that what he said?” He pressed further.
“I think?” Was all you could come up with, still not entirely sure what was going on yourself. At that moment, the specifics didn’t really matter, at least not to you.
“Wow.” You heard Lando whisper from beside you.
“I know.” You gaped, putting your head in your hands.
“Well go on, celebrate!” Lando cheered, waving the bartender over to where the two of you sat.
“No, no.” You shook your head, shooing him away. “I wanna remember this sober.” You decided out loud.
“Up to you.” There was something odd about the boy’s expression, something you didn’t really feel like deciphering at the time. “Any theories?” He broke the lull. You quirked your head.
“As to?” That made him laugh.
“I thought the Red Bull seats were pretty much set.” You hadn’t even given that a thought, but he was right. Where was this seat coming from?
“Surely not Max?” You thought aloud, and Lando shrugged.
“Guess not. That leaves Checo.”
As far as you knew, Checo wasn’t going anywhere. At the very least, Red Bull had no plans on letting him go. Did that mean he was leaving on his own accord? Retirement, maybe? No, not at the height of his career. What then?
“I’m stumped.” You sighed, resting your chin on your hand.
“Guess you’ll find out soon, huh?” He tried, not eliciting much of a reaction from you. “Hey, Y/N.” He grabbed your attention. You looked up at him through distant eyes. “This is good news!” He was right again- you knew that. So why did it still feel so strange?
warnings; mentions of alcohol, sexual innuendos i think
summary; atypical meet cute with the cute mystery man from across the club.
word count; 1.9k
a/n; reviving this account maybe
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It was hardly love at first sight. Lust at first sight might've been more appropriate, as corny as it might sound. His aura was magnetic, too cute for his own good with a smile that lit up the room. You had spotted him from a mile away, lounging in the corner of the club with a content, somewhat drunken, expression painted on his sculpted features.
You had been shooting him glances all night, hoping that your telepathic vibes were being received despite his complete negligence to your existence. Your friends wasted no opportunities to tease your desperate staring, egging you on to just go and talk him.
The very notion of simply walking up to him seemed impossible. He had been surrounded by important looking people all throughout the evening, not to mention the lingering crowd of stunning women that took turns hitting on him every few minutes.
It hadn't taken long for you to give up on this mystery Adonis, gloomily residing yourself to the bar to drown in your own pity and angst. Your grievances were amplified by the lack of alcohol in your system; being nominated as designated driver was really stunting your game.
You were on your third glass of Diet Coke, busy stirring a thin black straw between the ice cubes, when you caught someone slump into the seat next to you from the corner of your eye.
"Not a drinker?" A strange, albeit charming, British accent piped up from beside you. You lazily swung your gaze towards the voice, only to be met with the bashful eyes of your lost cause. A chill sparked through your spine, breath getting stuck in your throat.
"I'm the driver." You managed to stutter out, mentally kicking yourself for throwing your one opportunity. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you fixed your posture and sent him the sweetest smile you could, hoping to rectify your less than ideal first impression.
His lips pulled into a cheeky green, amused with your comical switch in outward portrayal. You couldn't help but notice his dusty blue eyes, now revealed to you with the close proximity. In fact, everything about him was cuter up close, which only made having a normal interaction with him that much more difficult.
"Fair enough." He shrugged, before turning to call over the bartender. Mumbling a curse under your breath, you spoke up.
"I'm Y/N, by the way." The words came out far too excited, but at the very least, the introduction did regain his attention. He turned his attention back towards you, giving you a quick once over before replying.
"Lando." He smiled. You couldn't help but stifle a giggle, thrown off by the unexpectedness of his name. His smile quickly faltered, brows knitted at the odd reaction. Fuck. You really were your own greatest enemy.
"I'm so sorry." You blurted, bringing a hand to your chest. "Oh my goodness, I'm sorry. It's just-" You let out a quiet groan, frustrated that your own self control was turning out to be your biggest adversary. "Star Wars." You finally managed to elaborate, spoken like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Lando laughed a painfully attractive laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. You retreated into your bar stool, unable to help but over analyze every movement he made. Was he offended? Maybe just humored by your plain idiocy?
"Yeah," He grinned. "I know." The way his expression settled down into a simple, small smile had you positively swooning. Feeling brave, you gave it your best shot, crossing your fingers under the bar table for good luck.
"Are you here with anyone?" Your eyes fluttered up at him, unable to hide your infatuation with the curious British fellow. The question seemed to surprise him, eyes widened as though you had just asked for his place or yours.
"Ah- no. Just my mates." He looked over his shoulder. You followed his gaze, landing on a group of incredibly drunk twenty-something year olds, dancing like idiots in the corner of the club.
You nodded, lips pursed in an amused smile.
"I see." You took another quick sip of the Diet Coke below you. "They look like lots of fun." You mused, and Lando seemed to agree.
"So do you." He breathed out, as if to test the waters of flirtatious territory. You quirked your head to the side, pleasantly surprised with the reply. Your lips parted, trying to formulate a witty reply, but the words seemed to get caught in your throat.
The action, or rather lack of action, elicited a smile from the boy. He took the break in conversation to quickly order a Coke to match your own.
"You seem important." You watched him move, caught on each flex of his arm and every twitch of his mouth. Your head was gently rested on your hand, elbow propping you up on the bar counter. Lando shrugged, picking the lemon off of his glass and placing it on a napkin.
"Stalking me all night, then?" He smirked, sending a blush to your hot cheeks.
"Call it a passing observation." It was your turn to shrug off the accusation.
"You could've just said hi. I don't bite." He teased, taking a sip from his own drink.
"You looked," He raised his brows as you looked for the right word, crinkling his tanned forehead ever so slightly. "Busy." You decided, wincing at the mental picture of the flocks of women circling him like vultures no less than an hour before.
"Hardly." He clicked his tongue, shaking his head with a smile that you promptly reciprocated. The jumping nerves had mostly calmed in the pit of your stomach, replaced by a pure, relentless desire to know the man in front of you.
"Would you care to dance?" Lando offered after a moment, impatient to bring this admittedly enticing conversation somewhere more exciting.
The offer, which made your heart feel ten times heavier, was simply impossible to refuse. You nodded, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, taking his hand as he hopped off the bar stool to lead you to the dance floor.
Dancing with Lando was a blurry haze of careless, syncopated movements. It was strange, feeling so light despite zero drops of alcohol circulation your system. Everything about him was intoxicating.
His hands burned invisible prints into your skin, each tug on your waist acting as another clump of coal on the fire. You melted into his body, obsessed with the way you felt pressed against his chest.
He was equally as entranced, eyes trained on every twist of your hips and flip of your hair. He never left your side, tugging you along wherever he went. An hour into your escapades, you ran into his friends, who were all too interested to know who you were.
"And where from did you come?" Pierre, the tall French one, slurred, fresh drink in his hand. He had a thick accent, which, coupled with the pounding music, made it hard to decipher his words.
"From here!" You exclaimed, nearly shouting just to be heard over the music. "Monaco." You added on with a smile. Lando's ears perked up, turning to look at you.
"Really?" He grinned, also hearing the information for the first time. You nodded. "Me too." He proudly stated. You beamed up at him, leaning in closer to the warmth of his body.
"Get a room." Charles, the shorter French one, mumbled with a hiccup. His girlfriend, who was currently sat on his lap, rolled her eyes, swatting at his chest.
"Would you..." He spoke just loud enough for you to hear while his friends went back to laughing among each other. "Want to- uh... I don't know." He laughed, struggling to find the words.
You wasted no time to hum an excited agreement, desperate for more alone time with the boy. He bit his lip, already formulating a way to excuse himself from his group of drunk idiots.
As he began to get up from the lounge couch, you gasped, pulling him back down.
"I'm the driver." You remembered with a frown, slumping into the cushion behind you. "They're probably looking for me." You mumbled, barely audible in the blaring club.
After a moment of thought, Lando hopped up, hand outstretched and ready for you to take. You happily obliged, a smile creeping back onto your features. He pulled you close to him, wrapping his arms around your waist.
"You can always call them an Uber." He suggested, cheekily messing with the hem of your skirt.
"Mm," You hummed, lost in his darkened eyes, which stared back into yours with a silent desperation. You weighed the options in your mind, trying not to let the feel of his roaming hands push you one way or another.
"I promised." You mused. He tsked, pursing his lips. With a sorry smile, you slid out of his grasp.
'Call me?' You mouthed backing up a step. He pretended to think on it, bringing a finger up to his chin as if in deep thought. You feigned an offense, scoffing out a dry laugh.
You both shared a peculiar look, one that you didn't fully understand yourself, before you turned on your heel to find your friends. Before you could take three steps, you felt a firm hand grasp your own, pulling you back to the boy you had just left.
You fell, less than gracefully, into his form, hands rested on his chest to stop yourself from knocking him over with you. You held your breath in anticipation, gaze flicking between his eyes and his lips. He stared back down at you, brown curls messily flopping down over his tanned face.
Unable to hold back another moment, you lifted yourself up on your tippy toes, crashing your lips into his. Lando threaded his fingers in your hair, leaning into the kiss for as long as you'd allow him.
It was long overdue- the closure of space between the two of you. There had been a plethora of opportunities throughout the night, but for one reason or another, it never quite got to that point. The tension had been stirring all evening, stirring in the pit of your stomachs before finally spilling over in a victorious climax.
Out of breath, you broke the contact, sheepishly looking down at your shoes. All Lando could do was watch you in awe, missing the feeling of your soft lips on his.
No more words were said before you ran out of the club, feeling like a school girl after her first kiss. You found your friends outside, leaning against the car with smug grins painted on their drunken faces.
You ignored their taunts as you climbed behind the wheel, drunk off of Lando's lingering kiss, still heavy on your lips.
"You got a text." Your friend in the passenger seat muttered, picking up your phone while you drove out of the small parking lot. "Hey, it's Lando. Hope we can pick up sometime soon?" She slurred, squinting at the illuminated screen.
Your grip on the wheel tightened as a million happy thoughts raced through your mind at the text, elated that he hadn't somehow forgotten you in the ten minutes it had been since his mouth was on yours.
"What the hell kind of name is Lando?" She whined, tossing your phone back on the dashboard before curling up into the seat of the car.
A perfectly fine one, you decided, eyes trained onto the road as the ghost of a smile tugged at your lips.
