synopsis: after Y/N L/N gets her first number one on the charts, lara reaches out to produce a collab for the upcoming katseye album- in the process finding herself more and more down bad for the new artist.
request: Actuallyy can you make something quiet similar to the tit for tat smau? Like reader is a indie artist not very known but they end up creating, writing and producing a song and it blows up? And Lara notices it and ask for reader to write a song together and make a feat ? Idk if it was clear ahaha sorry ! Btw love your work !! :)
pairing: lara raj x fem!reader
Y/N was buzzing off the studio walls. The duo had spent the last few hours in the studio working their asses off on the new song. "2 Hands" Lara and the girls had already written and was setting up to be the first single of their comeback era- and Y/N loved it.
It was different to the previous Katseye songs, but still reminded her of the band entirely. When Lara first played it for her, she fell in love with the song completely. It was different to what Y/N had been releasing previously, but she was happy to try a different genre out. Especially after the years-long celebrity crush she'd had on Lara.
There, Y/N stood in the studio, strumming away at the electric guitar. "How about a guitar solo? That could be cool!" Lara had suggested- and here they were. Lara was doing her best to keep her eyes on the screen, but she kept betraying herself to get a better look at Y/N as she played the instrument.
It was almost as though Y/N was a siren the way she played the guitar. For a split second, Y/N looked up from the strings in front of her and up at Lara. For a split second, Y/N nearly lets go of the guitar completely to move towards the girl in the chair. No. She couldn't do that. She just met her.
It was the third take, now. The last two attempts of the guitar crawl, Y/N had fumbled and tripped from just how intense the eye contact between her and Lara was. The tension between the two was electric and everyone in the room could see it. No one who was filming was complaining- the shots just kept on getting better.
Y/N was struggling to keep her cool, with the way Lara's eye contact never seemed to end the entire time. The music in the room started again, and the director shouted for the scene to start again. Action.
Lara slowed herself down, staring down Y/N from across the set as she played the instrument in her hands. The two had been given only one instruction by the director and that was to simply not break the eye contact at any point in the crawl. Which would be easy for literally any other two people in the room.
As the song played on, Y/N hands began to feel more sweaty. Lara was getting closer and it felt as though the guitar solo was never ending at this point. Then a signal came from behind the camera- Y/N cue. She gripped the guitar tightly as she fell down to her knees, now at level with Lara. The girls couldn't keep an eye off each other.
Sweat dripped from the top of Y/N's head as Lara's hands slipped around her waist, pulling her in closer. No one else might as well have been in the room. Y/N sat up on her knees, continuing on the guitar playing until they both finally heard the words- "AND CUT."
For a second, nobody moved. It as though if anyone did move, then whatever had just happened would be ruined. Y/N looked down at Lara as she finally moved away, "You okay?" She asked the girl, leaning back.
Lara couldn't say a word, just nodding quietly. "WE'RE GONNA TAKE FIVE." The two heard from behind all the cameras and lights.
They heard people walking and rushing around, but neither of them knew what to do with themselves. They knew what they wanted, though. "You wanna come back to my trailer for the five?" Lara then asked the girl. Y/N's head turned quickly to look at her. "You know... to freshen up..."
pairing: lando norris x lia brooks
genre: popstar x f1 driver • fluffy domesticity • soft boyfriend lando • music video romance
inspired by “2hands” by tate mcrae
a little bit spicy but no smut
lando had no idea how soft his life would get when he started dating lia brooks. he thought it would be wild, chaotic, paparazzi at every door, and sure, there was a bit of that. but mostly?
mostly it was sunday mornings. her humming in the kitchen. shared cereal boxes. the way she’d walk around the house barefoot in one of his t-shirts, half-singing whatever new demo she was working on, brushing her teeth mid-melody.
he lived for it. every part.
the two sat in lando's apartment. lando’s in his hoodie, socks pulled halfway up his calves, nursing a mug of tea that’s mostly gone cold. lia’s sitting cross-legged beside him on the couch, lyric book balanced on her knees, pen tapping against the page.
she hasn’t said much for the last few minutes, just looked out at the harbor, chewing her bottom lip like there’s something she’s not sure how to say.
he nudges her ankle with his foot.
“you good?”
lia looks up at him. her smile is soft, almost shy.
“i have a crazy idea,” she says, closing the sketchbook and setting it aside. “for the new music video.”
lando perks up immediately. “yeah?”
lia nods, pulling her knees to her chest. “i want a real f1 car in it. not a prop. not something fake. and not just any driver.”
he watches her, heart stalling a little.
she tucks her hair behind her ear, then looks at him with that kind of soft boldness that always floors him. “i want you to drive it.”
the silence between them is gentle, charged.
“me?” he asks, quietly stunned.
“yeah,” she says. “i want the car to be branded in my visuals. my colours. my name. and you. driving is literally your job. you live and breath that speed. i want you, just as you.”
lando sets his mug down, folding his arms over his knees.
“lia, are you asking me to be in your music video?”
she laughs, cheeks flushing. “yeah, i am lanny.”
“would i get to wear a suit with your logo on it?”
“custom,” she promises. “im thinking purple, my colour, and orange which is your colour. my initials on the chest.”
he breaks into a slow smile, eyes soft and awed.
“you really want me to do that?” he asks. “i mean, i’m not... i’m not some model.”
“no,” she says. “you’re my driver. and i want the world to see you that way.”
lando exhales, overwhelmed but warm. “okay,” he says, voice low. “i’ll do it.”
“yeah?”
“yeah,” he repeats. “but i want my name in the credits or something.”
she leans over and kisses him. it's soft and unhurried, like a thank you. like a promise.
“deal.”
he rests his forehead against hers.
“you know,” he murmurs, “i think the only thing better than driving for mclaren might be driving for you.”
she laughs into his chest.
it's the day of the music video and lando is nervous.
he’s in full gear. the custom orange and purple race suit snug around his shoulders, LB stitched into the collarbone, her signature in a sharp, silvery thread just above his heart.
his helmet, matte lavender with streaks of neon flame and a papaya orange visor, is tucked under his arm. it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever worn, and he loves it.
her world is louder than his. music blaring, dancers warming up, cameras everywhere. it’s chaos, but it’s also… her. and she moves through it like she owns it. grinning, barefoot, joking with the director, laughing so freely he forgets for a second that he’s even nervous.
“you okay?” she asks, appearing next to him in a matching race suit with the top half tied around her waist. she has a purple and orange custom bra on while her long brown hair flows down her back, and her makeup glittering under the lights.
he shrugs, playing it cool. “just… haven’t been in a car with someone else’s name on it before.”
lia smiles, gentle and amused. “you look amazing.”
“you designed it,” he points out.
“i know,” she teases, fixing the way his suit bunches near his elbow. “and i’m a genius.”
lando leans in, lowers his voice just for her. “what if i mess it up?”
she brushes a hand over his chest, just over her name. “then you’ll still look hot doing it.”
he swallows. “cool. no pressure.”
lando slides into the driver’s seat of the purple-orange F1 car like second nature, but this time, the helmet is hers. the gloves are stitched in lavender. the car’s side pod reads:
LB // 2hands.
the cameras roll.
he speeds through the closed-off airstrip with precision, smooth turns and donuts that burn rubber into smoke trails behind him. music blares through his earpiece: the beat of 2hands, deeper, remixed, full of bass and tension.
he nails it in one take.
when he pulls back in, lia is standing there clapping.
“you just did donuts in lavender flames,” she says. “i think i’m in love with you again.”
lando lifts his visor and smirks. “again?”
“always.”
the sun’s gone down and the lighting crew has bathed the runway in violet and orange LEDs. the car sits center stage like a throne, and lando is perched on top of it, his legs spread slightly, hands resting on his knees.
helmet still on.
in full suit.
silent.
lia’s in her matching race suit with the top open. her dancers melt away as she moves closer to him. the director yells action, and the track hits the second chorus
she straddles his lap. slowly. confidently. her hands run down his chest and she rolls her hips once, twice, to the beat, lips parted but eyes locked on the visor.
lando is, quite literally, not breathing.
she leans in close to the helmet, just brushing her lips to the edge of it, not kissing, just letting the camera think she might.
lando doesn’t move.
he just feels everything.
she turns around on his lap, ass facing the camera. she goes into a handstand, her hands wrapped around his legs, face in his crotch, and legs in a middle split with his face between her legs. he automatically put his hands on her bare skin to help hold her up.
she comes out of the handstand after a few seconds, now sitting on his lap with her back facing him. she takes his hands and runs them down her chest while grinding down on him.
cut.
the director shouts, “perfect!”
lia hops off, breathless, grinning. “you okay in there, lanny?”
lando lifts his visor just a crack. “i’m gonna need a minute.”
the final shot is in action.
lando’s back in the car, engine off, the camera pulling in close. lia stands beside him, back to the lens. the beat fades out.
just before the screen cuts to black, he lifts the visor slowly and winks.
in their trailer, the night has ended and lia is sitting in front of her mirror taking off her makeup. the two finally have a minute to themselves after a busy day.
she’s wiping off her lipstick with a wet wipe when he wraps his arms around her from behind.
“you okay?” she asks, glancing at him in the mirror.
“define okay,” he mumbles. “you gave me a lap dance in front of twelve cameras that millions of people are going to see.”
“you looked hot,” she says.
“i couldn’t even breathe.”
she turns in his arms. “you really wore my name like that?”
he brushes her hair back, presses his forehead to hers.
“i always will.”
twitter, five minutes after the video drops:
🔥 @popcultqueen
THE WINK. THE WINK. THE F1 DRIVER WINKED. I HAVE LOST MOTOR FUNCTION.
😭 @liandoupdates
lia: does a sexy lap dance on top of an actual formula one car
lando: raises his visor and winks
me: dead
💜 @mclarensmut
the way lando sat there in full race suit while lia danced on him… the STRENGTH. the COMPOSURE.
🏁 @gridgirlie
bro has driven monaco. and this is what made him sweat.
@liasbiggestfan:
lia: lap dances on a car
lando: silent. deadly. then winks.
me: screaming into the void
@f1lore:
LANDO’S CAPTION. HER INITIALS ON HIS CHEST. THE SMIRK. THE FACT THAT HE DROVE THAT CAR LIKE IT WAS HIS HEART ON THE LINE
@mclarengirlies:
lando being completely hers in every frame?? and loving it?? we’ve never seen a man so whipped and so fast
@landowdc25:
may we all find someone who wears our brand colours and lets lap dance on them on camera 🧡🟣
📸 @liabrooks
caption:
i just want his 2hands on me
photo carousel:
lia on the F1 car in her suit and sparkles, eyes locked on lando with his visor down
lando mid-donut, purple smoke billowing behind him
behind-the-scenes shot of lia fixing the collar of his race suit
a still of the wink
blurry polaroid of them hugging off-set, both smiling too hard
top comments:
🔥 @maxfewtrell: you gonna let him breathe or nah
🏎️ @charles_leclerc: bro sat so still. that was fear.
🧡 @mclaren: respectfully, we’ve never seen that helmet before and we’re scared.
🎤 @liahq: our favourite couple
💀 @gridgossip: LANDO. NAKED. UNDER. THAT. SUIT.
📸 @landonorris
caption:
my 2hands are on her at all times
@liabrooks
photo carousel:
lando on top of the car, visor down, completely still
lia dancing in front of him while he visibly loses composure
them sitting together on the f1 car
her initials stitched on his chest
a mirror selfie in the trailer of her kissing his cheek, him grinning like a goof
top comments:
😭 @oscarpiastri: bro said “method acting” and just let it happen
🤯 @kimiantonelli: this man was LOCKED IN. helmet on. lap dance happening. didn’t flinch.
💜 @liabrooks: you looked hot under pressure. might do it again.
👀 @mclarenf1: are we ignoring the wink or are we planning a public meltdown
🧃 @danielricciardo: legend behavior. if she releases merch i want the helmet.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ synopsis : getting stood up, you ask your best friend to give you a thrill for the night.
wc: 1.1k
ft. ooc! characters . d-deuce spade?! . ooc! reader lmfao . afab! reader (implied...?) . motorcycles . modern modern au! . like nrc exists but not really . do you catch my drift . best friends . confessions . can't lie i know nothing about motorcycles . getting stood up . is this slowburn or smth . just pure yap . i lost the plot . NOT PROOFREAD .
countless of hours spent on 'perfecting' your looks, curating the best outfit and makeup combination. finding the best fragrance. tapping your chin, "what would make my date fold...?"
you stare at your image in the mirror, a smile present on your face. "perfect," you muse. you snap a photo just before you leave. not daring to send it to your best friend for his opinion, instead you send it to your girlfriends to get their opinions.
they're gawking through the screen, some silly vulgar comments, a few nut busting and of course, genuine, heartfelt compliments. suddenly, your outfit felt complete.
your girl friends weren't lying, the black accented with red truly complemented you as a person. (me, i was the girl friends.) you arrived at the designated building that you and your date agreed on.
sometimes you were late, sometimes you were early. you made it your day's mission to appear on time, and you lived up to it. the first five minutes, no one was there. "strange," you remarked to yourself, "whatever. probably traffic or something today."
ten minutes you tried to reassure yourself by saying it was probably a coincidence. twenty turned into thirty and so on. sixty minutes, an hour, it all passed now.
you unlocked your phone, the device you muted to solely focus on your date tonight. he was active. active for everyone else but you. in denial, you desperately messaged the man, " hiii! where are you? "
your eyes lit up when you saw read. you hummed to yourself in excitement, believing that your date would, y'know... give a valid excuse and show up.
but no. you were left on read. ghosted. what the actual fuck. oooh, it hurt. did you really get stood up? for what? to think you two had chemistry.
it definitely damaged your ego slightly, your confidence faltered. you let out an exaggerated sigh, trying to suppress the feeling of hurt. the heavens must've really been laughing at you when you saw a couple walk into the building. stunning. the woman wore an attire quite similar to yours.
you couldn't help but choke when you sniffled. attempting to prevent yourself from crying. mucus dripping to the back of your throat, tears pricking your eyes.
it wasn't that deep. no it wasn't. getting stood up is a common occurrence that many people face. but when you're overwhelmed? when you thought that this could be an event that changes the trajectory of your life? when you didn't need another GODDAMN REASON?
you began sobbing as you walked away from the build, trying to stay nonchalant but it wasn't the most feasible. out of impulse you whipped out your phone again, vision blurry. i mean, who could see through tears? you said fuck it, my makeup is already ruined i might as well.
shaky hands typing a message to your best friend, deuce. he's got your back right? he always had. you cursed yourself at the amount of typos you made. wondering why you had such FAT THUMBS. you sent deuce the street intersection you were on, no context no nothing.
none of that was needed for deuce, he knew exactly what you needed. you sat on the curb, believing you looked like a fuckass rat (which you didn't my gorgeous beautiful boo.) thank the lord for waterproof and smudge proof makeup.
didn't occur to you YET, but you'll be thanking it soon. the loud rev of an engine snapped you out of your trance. you squinted your eyes as headlights basically flash banged you. "ugh," you let out unintentionally.
the headlights no longer on, an indication the vehicle stopped. in front of you? you blinked and looked up at the figure in front of you. they take off their helmet. for a second you forgot who what when where and why.
a glimpse of the navy haired boy made you recollect all your thoughts. in which you remembered being stood up. "[name]?" deuce asked, staring out of admiration.
"yea who else?" you sarcastically replied, immediately regretting your response as millions of other answers filled your head. definitely a moment that'll haunt you for a few days.
"sorry sorry," he apologized timidly. "it's just.. i couldn't recognize you." you stared at the boy trying to decipher if the statement was derogatory.
"wait wait, i didn't mean it like that!" he frantically exclaimed, confirming he didn't mean for it to be so demeaning. deuce was fumbling over his words again. "you look great, okay?!" he affirmed.
"heh, thanks. jus' wish my date could see me then," you grumbled. deuce ignored the last sentence. not because he wanted to ignore you, he didn't want to hear about your date. could've been him, y'know?
he gives you a hand, and of course you take it. "uhm, where to?" deuce asks sheepishly as he hands you a helmet.
"literally anywhere," you replied dramatically. he takes your word for it. "so uhm, how do i get on this thing..?" you asked, referring to the motorcycle (obviously bro lock in)
"just get on," he replies and you comply. you're mildly far away from deuce, making him chuckle softly. "closer, you're gonna die if i start the engine." suddenly your cheeks flushed red, "right uhm..." your chest was now to his back.
"follow my movements and squeeze your thighs on me, 'kay? it's for anchoring yourself," he continues, putting his helmet on to hide his blush. pink enough to be a darn flamingo whoa re we lying to right now.
you follow along and put on your helmet as well. as deuce starts the engine he reminds you, "two hands on me, alright? like your life depends on it."
the ride truly was a thrill, you loved it so much. pressed onto your best friend. wait... when was he this.. built? i mean he always was but truly being so physically close with him...
you were once again snapped out of your thoughts when the motorcycle came to a halt, the loud engine no longer howling. huh, a park. how cliché.
you both take off your helmets after getting off tje parked bike. "so uh, what do we do now?" you questioned, your tone indicating you were bored.
"listen, [name] i-" deuce was interrupted by you. "yeah yeah, you feel bad? i look like a mess uuughhh.." "no [name], i.. i uhm.." deuce is stumbling over his words, he's so so nervous. i mean who wouldn't be if he's with such a beauty..?
"i've liked you for a long time, and if you don't feel the same way i do it's completely fine," he awkwardly confesses. you were shocked, "guh huh what?!"
deuce is quiet now, face turned away from you. your hand meets his chin as you turn his head to look at you, "should've told me earlier," you whispered, shyly.
"i uhm. like you too," you admitted, slightly embarrassed. and then a tender kiss.
a/n: hi unemployed bbs! or employed ones i guess... this is so ahh LMFAO. debut fanfic gulp.. no this is not proof read and no there is no plot. and no i was not sober writing this.
