second chances
mob boss! lando norris x reader
part twenty-three: all the stars
word count: 2.1k (feels shorter tho?)
warnings: dialogue heavy, messy switching of povs
twenty-two | twenty-three | twenty-four
The library was nearly empty at this hour, save for the quiet hum of the air conditioning and the occasional shuffling of pages from someone studying just as late as they were.
Lando leaned back in his chair, twirling a pen between his fingers, watching as she… folded a tiny paper star?
He narrowed his eyes. “That doesn’t look like studying.”
She sighed dramatically, pressing the crease into the paper with a little too much force. “I can’t study anymore. My brain is fried. Done. Over. That’s it. It’s rejecting all new information.”
Lando exhaled through his nose, staring at the textbook open in front of them. They’d been at this for hours—practicing logic games, running through sample arguments, dissecting the intricacies of contracts and torts. She was good, but she was tired.
And when she got tired, apparently, she made little paper... thingamajigs?
Her head lolled onto her folded arms, barely upright at this point, eyes unfocused as she stared at the open prep book in front of her.
“Okay,” he said, flipping a page. “Logical reasoning. Let’s try one more.”
She groaned, voice muffled against her sleeve. “No.”
“Yes.”
“Noooo.”
“Yes.”
“Liam,” she lifted her head, fixing him with a mildly-impressive threatening stare, “I swear to God, I could not tell you the difference between a necessary and sufficient assumption right now if my life depended on it. Like, gun to my head? Not happening.”
Lando blinked, looking at her seriously. “Your life does not depend on it.”
“Exactly,” she declared, tossing down her highlighter. “So I’m making stars instead.”
She reached for the strips of paper she’d been folding absentmindedly for the last ten or so minutes, fingers deftly creasing them into small, perfect origami stars. The table was already littered with them, tiny constellations of her boredom.
Lando leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching her work with a bemused expression.
“I didn’t know you were so easily defeated.”
She shot him a glare. “I’m not defeated. I’m… on strike.”
“Against?”
“My own brain.”
He snorted, shaking his head. “Great. Can’t wait to see you argue that in court one day.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled, fingers still working on another star.
Liam stared at her for a moment too long, seeming very judgmental for someone who did not have to do the actual studying part. He narrowed his eyes. “You’re serious?”
She didn’t even look up. “Liam, I cannot study anymore.”
“You said that half an hour ago, and yet, we are still here.”
“I know, and that was the last time I could study. My brain is at maximum capacity. I have reached the limit of human intellectual absorption.” She held up a tiny, folded star between her fingers, as if to prove her point.
Lando sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He should tell her to keep going. Should remind her that this test was important, that she couldn’t afford to slack off now. But she looked tired, and he wasn’t a monster.
“…At least make me one,” he said, nodding toward the paper scraps.
Her head snapped up, eyes suspicious but there was a glimmer of excitement there too if Lando looked hard enough. “You want an origami star?”
He shrugged. “Eh, might as well.”
For a second, she just stared at him, like she was trying to figure out if he was messing with her. But then she grinned—small, genuine, and earnest. Lando wondered what other things caused her eyes to light up like that, what simple pleasures had her glittering with this pure kind of joy.
He leaned forward, interrupting her space by plucking a finished star from the pile and examining it between his fingers. “So… is this, like, normal or whatever? Or is there a cure–”
She gasped, appalled. “Oh, shut up! I just needed to do something with my hands that wasn’t writing or highlighting or underlining—”
Lando flicked the tiny star at her forehead.
She gasped. “Liam!”
“You were talkin’ too much,” he said, leaning back in his chair, smirking. “Consider it a tactical disruption.”
She huffed, flicking one right back at him. It hit him squarely in the chest. Once a concerning number of them were sufficiently scattered about their work table, he reached over and picked one up, inspecting the delicate folds.
“Should I be worried that you can make, like, fifty of these in under five minutes?”
“It’s a completely normal coping mechanism.” She started another one, hands moving on autopilot. “Some people take smoke breaks. I make stars.”
He raised a brow. “Not sure that’s the best analogy.”
She grimaced apologetically, realizing her mistake. Liam had been extra grumpy after recently quitting, despite the fact that he claimed not to smoke in the first place. Even though it resulted in his car smelling nicer, it apparently was still a touchy subject. She shot him an apologetic look before turning back and placing another finished star in a neat little row beside the others.
Lando sighed, running a hand down his face. He should probably tell her to keep studying, but—screw it. She’d worked her ass off. If she needed a break, she needed a break.
He appeared lost in some deep thought, so he caught her off guard when he reached for another piece of scrap paper and attempted to fold his own.
“Wait, are you—”
“Shut up. I’m concentrating.”
She leaned in, curious, watching as he fumbled through the folds. By the time he finished, his “star” looked more like a crumpled piece of trash than anything else. He scowled, huffing as he flipped it over. “I changed my mind. This is stupid.”
There was a beat of silence. And then she burst out laughing.
“Wow,” she wheezed, wiping at her eyes. “That’s horrific.”
She exhaled determinedly and pushed her books away, flexing her fingers like they ached from all the writing. Then, casually, she slid a few extra strips of paper toward him. “Want another try? I can teach you.”
He frowned at the offering. “Nah, I don’t do crafts.”
“Oh, come on. Please?” She gave him a playful nudge with her foot under the table. “Don’t be lame. It’s easy, just fold here—”
She reached over, her hand grazing hers as she tried to guide the paper through the first few folds. When the instructions became too confusing, she decided that they would attempt visual learning instead. Reaching closer to the half-complete star in front of him she gently took his hand in hers as she led him through the final tucks and indentations, leaving behind with a half decent star. It was a little lopsided, but a star nonetheless.
His star.
He had turned to look at her as soon as her hand made contact with his, caught off guard by the feeling of her delicate hands resting briefly against his calloused ones. Her hair had untucked itself from behind her ear, curtaining her face away from view momentarily. It was only a split second before she fixed it, absentmindedly tucking her back as she’d likely done thousands of times before.
She continued with her explaining and rambling as she focused completely on what she was doing, Lando couldn’t bring himself to follow suit. It was strange, inexplicable – after the split second that her hair had covered her face, Lando suddenly saw her in an entirely different light. Still fixated on her, he barely breathed. It was such a simple thing, barely a touch at all, but for some reason, his body had the nerve to register it like it scalded him, but in a sort of pleasant way.
His skin burned but he didn’t seem to mind, lost in trance while she was focused elsewhere, something about ensuring they did the right number of folds so they could have adequate paper for a neat final tuck.
Makes them cuter, she’d explained.
Lando Norris didn’t know a damn thing about origami or stars. Yet he’d never been paying more attention to something so inconsequential as he did right then. Suddenly, he was struck with the idiotic idea to unravel the star they’d made, just so they could do it all over again.
When she looked at him proudly, he cleared his throat, pulling his hand back before he could think too much about it. “You seem to be quite the expert. Think I’ll leave the paper artistry t’you.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway, and he ignored the way that smile did something weird to his chest. The library stayed quiet after that, save for the sound of her folding tiny stars and him watching the way the light made them glow in her hands.
A few days later, they were crammed in his car outside the testing center, and she was flipping through well-worn flashcards like her life depended on it. She chewed her bottom lip raw, flipping through them with a frantic energy he hadn’t seen in all the time he’d come to know her.
"Alright, last one," she muttered, holding up a card. "If a contract is formed under duress—"
"It's voidable at the discretion of the coerced party," he answered.
She blinked. "You got that right."
"Obviously?” he questioned, pretending to be offended. ”I do pay attention, y’know."
She stared at the card for another second, then groaned, dropping it back onto the larger stack. "Okay. I think I'm gonna throw up."
"Don't do that," he said. "S’bad for morale. Also, I happen t’like this car. Just got it clean, too–"
"Liam."
When she glared at him, she looked like she hadn’t decided yet whether to cry or throw up. Lando can’t imagine giving some stack of papers that much power.
What’s a score, anyway? Scores could be bought, extorted, bartered or bargained for–
He cut himself off before that line of thought could go any further. It was simply instinct, unfortunately. “Hey,” he reached over, plucking the papers right out of her hands. “You know this stuff.”
She didn’t even try to get them back from him, which should’ve been a sign to take this more seriously. But he noticed the way she fiddled with her fingers, pushing and pressing at her cuticles like it’d sooth her somehow. “This is the admissions test. For law school. What if I don’t?” she blurted.
“You do.” He was still laughing as he rolled his eyes.
She huffed, crossing her arms. “You don’t know that.”
Lando raised a brow. “I do, actually. I’ve been here every night watching you make flashcards and rewrite your notes and—look, if you weren’t already going to ace this, I’d just pay off the testing center.”
She blinked.
He tapped the steering wheel, as if actually considering it. “Or the admissions officer. Or the licensing board, now that I think about it—” His grin widened at her visible annoyance.
Why wasn’t he taking this seriously?
“Liam,” she groaned, shoving his shoulder.
He grinned but softened slightly, letting his voice drop. He turned to face her, and Y/N could practically feel her cheeks burning simply at the intensity of his gaze. Something about Liam always projected, confidence, strength, surety.
Sometimes she wished she could be as sure as he was.
But now, bearing the full weight of his gaze and being the sole object of his undivided attention, it felt almost like her heart was stuck in her throat. There was something about those green-gold irises that made Y/N feel like he could see all of her, like he could see right through her.
It made her pulse flutter with something foreign.
“Hey.” His voice was a near-whisper. The familiar smirk flickered, but his eyes held her captive. He gently nudged her chin, tilting her face up so she couldn't look away. "You're going to be perfect. Go out there and make me proud, yeah?"
Y/N was momentarily speechless. His touch, the way he held her in his gaze, left her breathless. She nodded, too caught in the intensity of the moment to form words. A strange mixture of fear and fascination swirled inside her as she exhaled, tension slipping from her shoulders.
“You’re the best,” she said before instinctively reaching out, squeezing his hand for half a second before quickly pulling away.
It was a fleeting gesture—a brief press of warmth—but it sent a shock up his spine, something lingering on his skin, even as she grabbed her bag and stepped out of the car, heading toward the entrance.
He watched her go, his fingers curling into a loose fist.
…Right.
Time to lock that away and never open it again.
a/n: oh my clueless little babies. oh they're so cute!
