I just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone for reading and engaging with the story. Your support means the world to me! To avoid any confusion, I’ve compiled a masterlist of all the chapters in chronological order, with each year broken down into its own set of chapters. Each year represents a different phase in Amelie and Lando’s journey, with the chapters unfolding in order of events as they grow and evolve. Some years may have more chapters than others, as certain moments in their relationship take longer to develop, while others might overlap as I occasionally get new inspiration that will influence the storyline.
I’m also open to any requests or suggestions you may have—don’t hesitate to reach out!
Also, just so everyone knows and there’s no more cliffhanger panic 😅—from now on, new chapters will be posted on Wednesdays at 6:00 PM PST and Sundays at 12:00 PM PST. If for any reason I can’t post on those days, I’ll let you know, but otherwise everything will go up as planned.
Thank you all again for being a part of this journey. Love you all! 💕
request over here! // follow Amelie on instagram!
Amelie Dayman x Lando Norris - Singer DR
2020 - The One Where We Pretend the Spark Isn't There
Summary: Set during the intense mid-season stretch, the chapter tracks the bittersweet realities of Lando and Amelie managing long-distance schedules while simultaneously hiding major secrets.
Wordcount: 12.5 k
Warnings: none
full masterlist // request over here!
July 15th, 2026 - Vancouver, Canada
The SUV rolled slowly through the upper level of Vancouver International Airport's long-term parking structure before Amelie eased it carefully into an empty space near one of the elevators. The engine fell silent, leaving behind only the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead and the occasional sound of rolling suitcases echoing across the concrete levels. Outside, travelers hurried toward the terminal beneath an overcast British Columbia morning, completely unaware that one of Formula One's most recognizable drivers was quietly sitting inside a parked car wearing a baseball cap and hoodie.
Neither of them made any move to unbuckle their seatbelts.
The silence that settled between them wasn't uncomfortable.
It was familiar.
The kind that always appeared whenever one of them had to leave for work, stretching the last few minutes together as long as humanly possible before reality inevitably interrupted.
Charlie had long since surrendered to sleep.
The golden retriever puppy lay sprawled across Lando's lap, one oversized paw hanging over the edge of his thigh while his head rested comfortably against Lando's stomach. Every few seconds his nose twitched slightly, chasing whatever adventure his dreams had decided to invent that morning. One floppy ear had folded itself inside out somewhere during the drive, making him look even more ridiculously adorable than usual.
Lando absentmindedly stroked the soft fur behind Charlie's ears.
Very carefully.
He had absolutely no intention of waking him.
Amelie shifted slightly in the driver's seat, turning just enough to look across the center console toward the two boys occupying the passenger side.
For a long moment she simply watched them.
The sight had become one of her favorites over the last several months.
Lando with Charlie.
There was something impossibly gentle about the way he handled the puppy, as though every movement had been unconsciously softened from the moment Charlie had entered their lives. The same hands capable of wrestling a Formula One car around Eau Rouge at impossible speeds now carefully supported forty pounds of sleeping golden retriever with the concentration of someone carrying priceless cargo.
Lando eventually noticed her staring.
He turned his head slowly, deliberately careful not to disturb the puppy balanced across his lap.
A sleepy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
—What?— he whispered.
Amelie smiled to herself, resting one elbow against the center console as she admired the picture in front of her for another few seconds before answering.
—Nothing,— she whispered back just as quietly. —Just looking at my boys.—
Lando's grin widened immediately.
—Your boys?—
—Mhm.— She nodded once.
He glanced theatrically down at Charlie, who remained blissfully asleep, completely oblivious to the conversation taking place above his head.
—I think one of your boys is contributing significantly less financially than the other.—
Amelie let out the softest laugh.
—Maybe... but he's considerably fluffier.—
—That's unbelievably rude.—
She shrugged innocently.
—I call it like I see it.—
Lando shook his head, pretending to look deeply offended before his expression softened again.
There was a brief pause.
Then, in a voice just as quiet as before, he asked the question he already knew the answer to.
—You really can't come?—
Amelie's smile faded into something apologetic almost immediately.
She'd been expecting that question ever since they'd left the apartment.
She reached across the console, carefully brushing a few curls away from his forehead where they'd escaped beneath his baseball cap.
—I really can't,— she admitted gently. —Last week I was at Silverstone, then Wimbledon, then Mexico for the World Cup. I practically disappeared from set for almost two weeks, Lan.—
She sighed quietly.
—We're already having to move scenes around because of my schedule. I can't disappear for another four or five days to go to Belgium.—
Lando looked dramatically wounded.
—But... it's my home race.—
Amelie blinked at him for a moment before one eyebrow slowly lifted in unmistakable disbelief.
—I thought Silverstone was your home race,— she replied with perfect seriousness. —You know... the one I specifically begged production to give me the week off for because you insisted it was important?—
Lando nodded thoughtfully as though she had raised an entirely reasonable point.
—Yeah...— He paused for dramatic effect. —But Spa is also my other home race.—
Amelie stared at him for a long second before letting out a laugh she had been trying very hard to suppress.
—Lando...—
He remained completely serious.
—My mum's Belgian,— he defended with a small shrug, carefully keeping one hand beneath Charlie's head so the puppy wouldn't slide. —I'm practically obligated to claim it.—
—Practically obligated?—
—Absolutely.—
She folded her arms across her chest, fighting another smile.
—That's funny, because last week you gave me an entire speech about how nothing compared to Silverstone. You told me the British fans were different, that walking into the paddock there felt like coming home, and that if I missed one race all year it absolutely couldn't be that one.—
Lando nodded solemnly, as though every word she'd just repeated only strengthened his current argument rather than dismantling it entirely.
—All true,— he agreed without hesitation. —Completely true. But I've had time to reflect, and I've reached the conclusion that I actually have multiple home races. It's a very multicultural upbringing thing.—
Amelie laughed, shaking her head in disbelief.
—Oh, is that what we're calling it now?—
—Exactly.— He gave a tiny shrug. —Silverstone is my English home race. Spa is my Belgian home race. Mexico is... emotionally important. Monaco's basically home because I live there. Austin feels welcoming. Honestly, by the end of the season I reckon we'll discover another three.—
She couldn't help herself.
She burst into laughter, immediately covering her mouth when Charlie shifted ever so slightly in his sleep.
The puppy let out a tiny sigh, stretched one paw across Lando's stomach, and settled right back down.
Both of them froze.
Only after Charlie remained asleep did they quietly exhale in relief.
—See?— Amelie whispered. —Even Charlie thinks you're ridiculous.—
Lando looked down at the sleeping puppy.
—Traitor,— he muttered dramatically.
She smiled warmly at him, reaching across the center console again until her fingertips found his wrist.
Her thumb traced one slow circle against his skin before their fingers naturally intertwined in the narrow space between the front seats. She studied his face for a quiet moment, taking in the familiar freckles scattered across his nose, the stubborn curls escaping beneath the black cap, and the tiredness lingering around his eyes after what had felt like two of the busiest weeks either of them had experienced in months.
—I know what you're doing,— she said softly, the smile still playing at the corner of her lips. —You're trying to guilt-trip me into getting on that plane with you.—
Lando's expression shifted into one of exaggerated innocence, his eyebrows lifting as though the very accusation had wounded him deeply.
—I would never,— he whispered dramatically. —I am simply presenting objective facts. Fact number one: Belgium is lovely. Fact number two: I happen to be driving there this weekend. Fact number three: my favorite person in the world should obviously accompany me because she'd make the entire weekend approximately two hundred percent better.—
Amelie smiled despite herself, unable to resist the warmth spreading through her chest every time he spoke so matter-of-factly about wanting her beside him.
—You're making a compelling case,— she admitted quietly. —Unfortunately, the producers don't seem particularly interested in your statistical analysis.—
Lando let out an exaggerated sigh that sounded almost theatrical.
—I knew bringing logic into this conversation was a mistake.—
She laughed again before her expression softened into something more apologetic.
—I hate it too, you know. I don't want to stay behind while everyone else goes to Spa. But if I disappear again this week, we're going to lose even more shooting days. We've already been juggling scenes because of Silverstone, Wimbledon, and Mexico. I finally got everyone back on schedule yesterday. If I leave again now, it'll become a nightmare for the entire crew.—
Lando listened quietly, gently scratching beneath Charlie's chin as the puppy continued sleeping without a care in the world. He already knew every reason she had just listed. He'd known them before asking the question. Still, hearing her say them aloud somehow made accepting the answer easier.
—I know,— he replied after a moment, offering her a small smile that carried far more understanding than disappointment. —Besides... if we're being honest, most of the things we did last week weren't exactly optional anyway. Silverstone was important, Wimbledon was basically compulsory because everyone wanted us there, and Mexico... well, FIFA practically kidnapped us for the World Cup.—
Amelie nodded with a quiet laugh.
—Exactly.—
—So it's not like we actually had a relaxing holiday together.—
—Far from it.—
He leaned his head back against the seat, looking up through the windshield toward the grey Vancouver sky visible beyond the concrete beams of the parking garage.
—I know you're definitely not coming,— he admitted with another small shrug. —I'm mostly winding you up because I know you'll feel guilty for about three minutes before remembering you've got work to do.—
She smiled knowingly.
—I was already feeling guilty before you even asked.—
—I figured.—
There was another comfortable silence between them, broken only by the distant rumble of another car driving through the parking structure and Charlie's tiny sleepy snore. Somehow, despite knowing exactly why she couldn't come, it didn't make the thought of leaving any easier.
Lando turned back toward her.
Very slowly, careful not to disturb the puppy balanced across his lap, he leaned across the center console until the brim of his cap almost brushed her forehead. Amelie met him halfway without hesitation, their lips finding one another in a slow, lingering kiss that carried none of the urgency of recent weeks. It was simply two people trying to stretch goodbye for as long as possible.
When they finally pulled apart, he didn't move away immediately.
Instead, he smiled softly before pressing another gentle kiss against her cheek, lingering there for a second longer than necessary.
God, he hated this part.
Not because he was flying to Belgium.
Not because another race weekend was beginning.
But because he already knew exactly what the next few weeks looked like.
Race weekend.
Then immediately afterward he was flying to celebrate Cisca's twenty-first birthday with his family, something they'd been planning for months. Before he'd even properly unpack from that, he'd head straight to Hungary for the final race before Formula One's summer shutdown.
By the time everything settled... it would already be August.
Almost three weeks.
He wasn't sure when the idea of three weeks apart had become something that genuinely bothered him, but somewhere along the line it had.
He sighed quietly through his nose before brushing another strand of hair behind Amelie's ear.
—Take care of yourself while I'm gone,— he murmured. —And look after Charlie for me. Don't let him convince you breakfast should happen at five in the morning just because I'm not there to tell him otherwise.—
Amelie smiled fondly, glancing down at the puppy still sleeping soundly across his lap.
—I make no promises. He's very persuasive.—
Lando chuckled.
—He absolutely is,— he paused briefly before continuing. —and... start thinking about where you want to go during summer break.—
Amelie's smile turned almost impossibly fond before it blended into an expression that was somewhere between amusement and resignation.
She tilted her head slightly, studying him as though he had just deliberately ignored a very obvious fact.
—Lan...— she said gently, her fingers still loosely intertwined with his. —You know I don't actually have a summer break this year.—
The reminder landed somewhere between playful and apologetic.
Unlike Formula One, film productions didn't simply pause for several weeks because the calendar reached August. They were already behind schedule, and every department on set was working overtime to catch back up. The closest thing Amelie had to a holiday this year consisted of carefully negotiated weekends and the occasional day squeezed between filming blocks.
Lando stared at her for a second before letting out an exaggerated sigh worthy of an Oscar nomination.
—I keep forgetting you're a responsible adult,— he said dramatically. —It's incredibly inconvenient for my plans.
She laughed quietly.
—I know. Terrible habit.—
—I preferred it when our biggest scheduling problem was figuring out whose apartment had the better takeaway options.—
—Those were simpler times.
He smiled, but it softened almost immediately into something quieter.
There was a strange feeling settling in his chest now that the departure had become real. Until this point, it had simply been a conversation inside a parked car. Now, every passing second was another second closer to him climbing out, grabbing his backpack, and disappearing through the airport doors.
Three weeks.
It suddenly sounded much longer than it had when he'd looked at his calendar.
His thumb continued absentmindedly brushing over the back of her hand.
—I know you don't get a proper break,— he said more quietly this time. —But we'll figure something out.—
Amelie looked at him.
—We'll steal a weekend somewhere.—
He nodded almost immediately.
—Exactly.—
She smiled.
—You're making it sound like we're planning a heist.—
—We basically are. We'll kidnap you from set on Friday evening, disappear somewhere nobody can find us, and return you before anyone notices.—
She raised an eyebrow.
—I think people would notice if their lead actress disappeared.—
—Not if we're efficient.—
She couldn't help laughing again, the sound filling the quiet interior of the SUV.
—Your confidence is admirable.—
—I prefer the word delusional.—
—Accurate.—
Their laughter faded naturally into another comfortable silence.
For a few moments they simply looked at one another, neither of them particularly interested in acknowledging that the clock kept moving.
Lando leaned forward once more.
This kiss was shorter than the last one.
Gentle.
Unhurried.
The kind of kiss that said everything neither of them particularly wanted to say out loud.
When they pulled apart, he rested his forehead lightly against hers for just a second before smiling to himself.
—We'll figure it out,— he repeated quietly.
There wasn't an ounce of doubt in his voice.
Not because he had a plan.
Simply because every complicated schedule, every race weekend, every filming conflict, every airport goodbye they'd faced so far had somehow worked itself out eventually.
This would too.
Amelie nodded softly.
—I know.—
He smiled one last time before reluctantly shifting back into his seat.
—Right...—
The single word carried all the reluctance in the world.
Very carefully, Lando slid one arm beneath Charlie's chest while supporting his hind legs with the other. The puppy barely stirred, letting out nothing more than a sleepy little huff as he was lifted from the warmth of Lando's lap.
—Sorry, mate,— Lando whispered.
Charlie responded by stretching dramatically without opening his eyes.
Amelie instinctively reached out.
Lando lowered the golden retriever into her lap with almost ceremonial care, making sure his head remained supported exactly the way it had been moments earlier. Charlie blinked once, looked vaguely offended that gravity had changed, then immediately curled into a new sleeping position against Amelie's legs as though nothing significant had happened.
—See?— Amelie whispered with a smile, gently scratching beneath Charlie's chin. —He didn't even notice you abandoned him.—
—I haven't abandoned him.—
Lando pointed accusingly at the puppy.
—I expect daily updates.—
—I can do that.—
—Photos.—
—Obviously.—
—Videos too.—
She laughed.
—You're asking like I wasn't already going to send you approximately fifty a day.—
—Good.—
He reached down, giving Charlie one final scratch behind the ears before grabbing the small duffel bag resting by his feet. Then came his backpack, which he slung over one shoulder with the familiar routine of someone who had spent most of his adult life living out of airports.
Only then did he finally open the passenger door.
Cool Vancouver air immediately drifted into the SUV.
Lando stepped onto the concrete of the parking garage before leaning back into the open doorway one last time.
He looked first at Charlie, sleeping peacefully in Amelie's lap.
Then at Amelie.
She was already looking back at him.
Neither of them spoke for several seconds.
There wasn't really anything left to say.
Everything important had already been said somewhere between Silverstone, Wimbledon, Mexico City, and this quiet parking space overlooking Vancouver International Airport.
Lando smiled.
—I love you.—
Amelie's expression softened instantly.
—I love you too.—
He gave her one last lingering look, committing the image to memory—her sitting behind the steering wheel with Charlie asleep across her lap, hair slightly messy from the morning, smiling at him with that familiar warmth that somehow made every airport goodbye both easier and infinitely harder.
Then, with a reluctant sigh, he closed the passenger door.
The muted sound echoed through the parking garage.
Amelie watched him through the windshield as he adjusted the strap of his backpack, picked up his duffel bag properly, and began walking toward the elevators leading into the terminal. Halfway there, he turned around one final time.
She lifted her hand immediately.
He smiled, raising his own in return before disappearing around the corner toward departures.
Only once he was completely out of sight did Amelie finally let out the quiet breath she'd apparently been holding.
Charlie shifted in his sleep, pressing himself a little closer against her lap.
She smiled down at him, gently stroking the soft golden fur between his ears before starting the engine again.
She had a film set waiting for her.
Lando had a flight to catch.
And somehow, despite the weeks ahead that would keep them on different continents, both of them already knew the same thing.
August would come soon enough.
--------------
liked by gridgirlie, amesdefender, and others
f1updates: Touchdown in Spa. ✈️🇧🇪
Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri have arrived at the paddock for media day.
View all 742 comments
papayagirl: HE LITERALLY LOOKS LIKE HE CAME STRAIGHT FROM THE AIRPORT 😭✈️
→ orange4ever: bro didn't even unpack
→ gridgirlie: airport ➡️ paddock speedrun
lan4ever: that Longchamp bag has been THROUGH IT 😭
→ papayahq: it's working overtime this month
→ orangeobsession: give the bag a vacation
f1updates: imagine landing and going straight to media day 😭
→ papayaprincess: i'd need a nap first
lanmeliehub: i don't think Amelie's coming this weekend 🥹
→ orange4ever: she still has filming, right?
→ papayahq: makes sense if Lando flew in so late
amesnation: if she was coming they probably would've traveled together 😭
→ amesdefender: that's what i'm thinking too
papayagirl: long-distance for one weekend again 😭
→ lan4ever: they'll survive
→ orangeobsession: but i'll miss the paddock content
gridgirlie: Oscar looking fresh and Lando looking like he hasn't processed what country he's in 😭
f1gossipdaily: Lando's calendar this month deserves its own documentary 😭
→ papayahq: Silverstone, Wimbledon, World Cup, now Spa...
→ gridgirlie: i'm exhausted just reading it
orangeobsession: the airport workers must recognize him at this point 😭
→ lan4ever: "welcome back Mr. Norris"
→ papayagirl: monthly frequent flyer champion
f1detectives: okay but where did he even fly from?? 🤨
→ detectiveera: probably straight from Mexico
papayahq: if Amelie's filming this week i'm happy she's getting to focus on work 🥹
→ amesnation: they've both been everywhere lately
→ orange4ever: they deserve a quiet week
papayaprincess: i'm already preparing for the lack of LanMelie paddock photos 😭
→ lanmeliehub: don't remind me
orangegrid: Lando has mastered the art of looking put together after a flight somehow 😭
→ papayagirl: couldn't be me
→ lan4ever: i'd look like a zombie
f1updates: media day five minutes after landing sounds illegal 😭
→ orangeobsession: no recovery time whatsoever
amesdefender: if she's filming, i'm sure she'll be cheering him on from wherever she is 🥹
→ lanmeliehub: long-distance support era
→ orange4ever: they always make it work
papayagirl: no Charlie either... this really is a business trip 😭
→ gridgirlie: the paddock feels empty already
→ orangegrid: someone hug him for us
f1fangirl99: the Longchamp bag has officially become part of the Lando Norris starter pack 😭
orangeobsession: okay but imagine flying overnight just to answer "how are you feeling this weekend?" 😭
→ papayaprincess: "tired."
→ gridgirlie: most honest media answer ever
--------------
The afternoon sun filtered softly through the tall windows of McLaren's hospitality unit, washing the driver's room in warm streaks of gold that contrasted with the grey Belgian skies lingering beyond the paddock. The annual run in memory of Anthoine Hubert had finished less than an hour earlier, leaving behind the familiar mixture of reflection and quiet exhaustion that always followed the event. Even for those who chose to walk most of the route rather than run it, the emotional weight of the morning somehow seemed capable of draining every ounce of energy from the body.
Lando certainly felt it.
The combination of crossing nearly every time zone imaginable over the previous two weeks, racing at Silverstone, attending Wimbledon, flying to Mexico City for the World Cup, returning to Vancouver for barely forty-eight hours, crossing the Atlantic overnight for Spa, and now spending the morning outside with hundreds of people honoring Anthoine had finally caught up with him. His entire body seemed to be demanding one thing and one thing only.
Sleep.
Preferably somewhere horizontal.
Preferably immediately.
He rubbed one tired hand across his face as he pushed open the familiar door leading into his driver's room, already picturing the small sofa tucked into the corner where he intended to collapse for twenty uninterrupted minutes before engineering debriefs inevitably ruined his plans.
The room greeted him with quiet instead.
Or at least, almost quiet.
There was the soft rustle of fabric being folded with practiced hands, followed by the unmistakable click of a wardrobe drawer sliding shut. It wasn't a sound he expected to hear inside his driver's room, especially considering he'd left it in complete disarray less than an hour earlier after changing into his McLaren kit. His discarded hoodie and T-shirt had been unceremoniously thrown across the sofa without so much as a second glance, victims of a rushed outfit change before the memorial run.
Lando frowned slightly.
He stepped fully inside before stopping in the doorway.
His mother stood beside the sofa with her back partially turned toward him, carefully folding the charcoal hoodie he'd abandoned earlier as though she'd done exactly this a thousand times before. Beside her lay the black T-shirt he'd peeled off moments before leaving, now neatly folded into a perfect rectangle instead of resembling something that had been launched across the room by an impatient Formula One driver.
Lando blinked.
—Mum?—
Cisca looked over her shoulder.
The moment she saw him standing there, her face immediately softened into the familiar smile that somehow hadn't changed since he was little.
—Hello, darling.—
His eyebrows lifted in genuine surprise.
—I didn't know you were here already,— he said, closing the door behind him. —I thought you were flying in from London tonight.—
—I was supposed to,— she replied, smoothing one final crease from the hoodie. —We managed to get an earlier flight this morning instead. I thought I'd surprise you.—
Lando laughed quietly.
—I'd say you succeeded.—
From somewhere deeper inside the hospitality unit came another voice.
—Really? That's how you greet your own mother?—
Lando looked toward the open doorway just as his younger sister leaned against the frame with her arms crossed, wearing an expression of exaggerated disappointment.
Cisca raised an eyebrow dramatically.
—You just stand there asking logistical questions? No hug? Nothing?—
Lando let out a tired laugh.
—Alright, alright...—
He crossed the room in a few easy strides before wrapping both arms around his mum in a familiar embrace. Cisca hugged him immediately, one hand naturally coming up to rub gently across his back the same way she always had. When they pulled apart, Lando instinctively leaned his head down just enough for her to press a kiss against his cheek.
She did so happily.
—There,— she smiled. —Much better.—
—Happy now?—
—Ecstatic.—
Lando chuckled, shaking his head affectionately before dropping himself onto the small sofa with a tired groan that sounded like every airport, every timezone, and every media obligation from the past fortnight had chosen that exact moment to settle into his muscles.
His entire body practically melted into the cushions.
—I might actually fall asleep right here.—
—You look like you could,— Cisca admitted sympathetically.
She finished folding the last sleeve of his hoodie before walking over and sitting beside him. The sofa dipped slightly beneath her weight, and she patted the cushion next to herself almost instinctively, despite him already occupying it.
Lando smiled tiredly, shifting just enough to lean comfortably against the backrest while his mother absentmindedly brushed a loose curl away from his forehead. It was one of those unconscious gestures she had been doing since he was little, and despite being twenty-six years old and one of Formula One's biggest stars, he still accepted it without the slightest complaint.
For a few quiet seconds neither of them said anything. The room settled into the familiar calm that only family could create, the bustle of the paddock fading behind the closed door until it felt as though Spa had momentarily disappeared altogether.
Cisca studied him carefully.
The dark circles beneath his eyes hadn't escaped her attention, nor had the way he seemed to be fighting the urge to close them every few seconds.
She smiled softly.
—Amelie's not joining us this week?— she asked gently.
Lando's expression changed almost immediately.
Not into disappointment exactly.
Just something quieter.
He let out a long breath through his nose before rubbing both hands over his face.
—I tried,— he admitted with a small laugh that carried far more resignation than amusement. —Believe me, I tried everything. I even started claiming Spa was my second home race because you're Belgian.—
Cisca laughed immediately, the sound warm enough to pull the corner of Lando's mouth into another sleepy smile despite himself. She could picture the entire conversation without needing another detail, because it sounded exactly like something her son would say whenever he wanted to convince someone to spend just one more day with him.
—I assume she didn't buy that argument?— she asked knowingly, folding the final corner of his black T-shirt with practiced precision.
Lando let out an exaggerated sigh, letting his head fall back against the sofa cushions.
—Not even remotely. She reminded me that last week I gave her a whole speech about Silverstone being my only real home race.— He rubbed a hand through his curls before shaking his head with a tired smile. —Apparently I contradicted myself within... I don't know... five days.—
—That sounds about right.—
He chuckled quietly before his smile softened again.
—I wanted her here, obviously. It's Spa. I would've loved having her around. But she missed nearly two weeks of filming because of Silverstone. She finally got everything back on schedule. I can't exactly ask her to disappear again because I miss her.—
His mother listened without interrupting, watching the way he spoke about Amelie with an ease that had become completely natural. There wasn't an ounce of resentment in his voice. If anything, there was pride.
—She's worked incredibly hard for this project,— Lando continued. —She's got her own career... her own dreams. I knew she wasn't coming before I even asked. I just... had to try.—
Cisca nodded slowly.
—Of course you did.—
—But that doesn't mean I'm going to make her feel guilty for choosing them.— He shrugged lightly. —She supported me all through Silverstone. She came to Wimbledon even though we were basically dragged there. Then she flew to Mexico with me for the World Cup. She's done enough. Now it's my turn to support her, even if that means she isn't standing in the garage this weekend.—
A quiet smile settled across Cisca's face.
There was something deeply reassuring about hearing him speak that way. Years ago, Lando might have been disappointed enough to complain for a while. Now, he simply sounded... grown.
He understood compromise.
He understood that loving someone also meant encouraging them to chase the things that mattered to them, even when it meant spending time apart.
Without saying anything, Cisca reached down toward the floor where Lando's familiar navy Longchamp travel bag rested against the side of the sofa. It was still half open from when he'd changed earlier, clothes haphazardly shoved inside exactly the way every racing weekend seemed to leave them.
—Honestly,— she said, picking it up and resting it across her lap, —if I leave this with you, these folded clothes will be on the floor again in approximately twelve minutes.—
Lando let out a tired laugh, lifting one shoulder in a completely unapologetic shrug as he watched his mother reposition the travel bag across her lap.
—I was going to pack them eventually,— he defended weakly, despite sounding like someone who knew the argument held absolutely no credibility.
Cisca gave him a look that every mother seemed capable of perfecting.
—Mm-hm.—
She didn't believe him for a second.
With practiced ease, she folded the charcoal hoodie one final time before lowering it neatly into the main compartment, smoothing it flat with her palm before reaching for the black T-shirt she'd folded moments earlier. Every movement was efficient, almost automatic, the sort of routine developed after years of traveling alongside racing weekends where suitcases were unpacked and repacked more often than closets at home.
Lando watched her for a moment, too exhausted to protest any further.
Honestly, if his mother wanted to organize his entire room while he took the nap his body was desperately demanding, he wasn't about to stop her.
Cisca adjusted the hoodie slightly before reaching deeper into the bag to make room.
Her fingertips brushed against something small resting near one of the interior pockets.
She frowned.
—What's this?— she murmured more to herself than to anyone else.
Lando looked up absentmindedly.
—Hmm?—
She reached inside, retrieving a tiny square velvet box no larger than the palm of her hand.
The deep navy velvet caught the afternoon light as she lifted it out of the bag, its elegant simplicity immediately standing out against the folded black clothing resting inside the Longchamp. It wasn't particularly large, nor did it carry any visible jeweler's branding from where she held it, but it looked unmistakably like the sort of box reserved for something precious.
Lando's entire posture changed.
One second he had been halfway melted into the sofa cushions, fighting to keep his eyes open.
The next he was sitting bolt upright.
His heart dropped straight into his stomach.
—Mum...—
Cisca looked down at the little box, then back at her son, whose expression had transformed so dramatically that it immediately answered half the questions she hadn't even asked yet.
Her eyebrows slowly climbed toward her hairline.
—Lando...—
He leaned forward almost instinctively, extending one hand toward her.
—It's not what you think.—
Cisca looked at him for exactly half a second before completely ignoring the request.
—That's always what people say right before it turns out to be exactly what I think,— she replied matter-of-factly, curling her fingers more securely around the tiny velvet box before he had any chance of taking it away.
—Mum...—
—No.— She held up one finger without even looking at him. —You don't get to say "it's not what you think" while looking like you're about to pass out from panic.—
Lando let out a long, defeated groan, dropping his head briefly into his hands.
—Please don't—
—but I'm absolutely going to,— she interrupted, smiling innocently as she turned the box over in her hands.
His shoulders slumped.
There wasn't a single thing he could do now.
He had seen that exact expression on his mother's face hundreds of times growing up. It was the same look she wore whenever she had already decided something was happening and no amount of negotiation from any of her children would change the outcome.
With one elegant movement, she lifted the lid.
Lando closed his eyes.
For one brief, ridiculous second, he actually considered pretending to be asleep.
Unfortunately, it was about five seconds too late for that strategy.
Inside, resting neatly against the cream-colored velvet lining, was a delicate gold ring.
Cisca's breath caught almost immediately.
For one impossibly confusing second, her brain had already convinced itself she was looking at an engagement ring. Instead, resting against the cream velvet lining was a beautifully delicate gold ring, elegant but unmistakably simple. There was no diamond dominating the center, no elaborate setting, nothing about it that suggested a proposal.
It was simply... a woman's ring.
She blinked once.
Then twice.
Slowly, she looked back up at her son.
Lando hadn't relaxed in the slightest.
If anything, he looked even more nervous than before.
His elbows rested on his knees now, both hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles had turned pale, his exhausted expression replaced entirely by the face of someone mentally preparing for an interrogation he knew he couldn't win.
Cisca looked back down at the ring.
Then at him again.
—I... don't get it,— she admitted honestly, her eyebrows knitting together in genuine confusion. —It's beautiful, but... why is there a woman's ring hidden inside your travel bag?—
Lando rubbed both hands slowly over his face.
He stayed quiet for several seconds.
His brain briefly entertained the idea of inventing some elaborate explanation involving sponsors, forgotten jewelry, or perhaps even Oscar accidentally leaving something behind.
Instead, he let out the kind of long, defeated sigh that only happened when he realized there wasn't a believable lie in existence capable of surviving his mother's questioning.
He lowered his hands, looking somewhere toward the carpet instead of directly at her.
—Because it's Amelie's,— he admitted quietly.
Cisca frowned.
She glanced back down at the delicate ring resting inside the velvet box before looking at her son again, clearly trying to connect pieces that refused to fit together.
—...Alright,— she said slowly. —Why do you have Amelie's ring?—
Lando scratched the back of his neck, suddenly finding the seam running along the edge of the sofa incredibly fascinating.
—I... borrowed it.—
—Borrowed it?—
He nodded once.
—Without telling her.—
One of Cisca's eyebrows lifted almost imperceptibly.
—Lando Norris...—
—I was going to put it back!— he interrupted quickly, lifting both hands in surrender. —She hasn't even noticed it's gone.—
—That somehow doesn't make me feel better.—
He let out another sigh.
—I know.—
Silence settled over the room again.
Outside, muffled voices drifted through the paddock corridor as engineers, mechanics, and media members hurried from one meeting to the next. Inside the driver's room, however, time seemed to have slowed completely.
Cisca continued turning the small velvet box over in her hands, studying the simple gold band before looking back toward her son.
—I'm still missing part of this story.—
Lando knew.
Unfortunately.
He rubbed his palms together once before finally deciding there was no point dancing around the truth anymore.
—I needed to know her ring size.—
The words settled quietly between them.
For a brief moment, Cisca simply stared at him.
She repeated the sentence silently inside her own head, as though perhaps she'd misheard it through the general paddock noise filtering beneath the closed door. I needed to know her ring size.
Her mouth parted slightly.
—Why do you need to know her si...—
She stopped.
Mid-sentence.
The question never reached the end.
Instead, every scattered piece she'd been trying to assemble over the previous minute suddenly snapped together with startling clarity. The hidden velvet box. Lando's panicked expression. The way he'd tried to stop her from opening it. The careful explanation about borrowing Amelie's ring without telling her.
There was only one reason someone secretly borrowed their girlfriend's ring to find out her size.
Her eyes widened so dramatically they almost disappeared beneath her eyebrows.
She looked from the ring... to her son... then back to the ring again.
The realization hit her with the force of a freight train.
Her jaw dropped completely.
The velvet box remained suspended in her hand for another heartbeat before every ounce of composure abandoned her entirely.
Without the slightest warning, Cisca let out a high-pitched scream that echoed through the otherwise quiet driver's room, startling Lando so badly he physically flinched against the sofa cushions. In the exact same motion, she accidentally tossed the Longchamp travel bag straight back into his lap, still clutching the open velvet box in her other hand as though she couldn't possibly let go of the evidence she'd just uncovered.
—OH MY GOD!—
Lando immediately reached both hands toward her, his eyes darting instinctively toward the closed door.
—Mum!— he hissed, his voice dropping into a frantic whisper. —Keep your voice down! There are literally people outside!—
Cisca looked at him as though he had just informed her the sky was green.
—Don't you "keep your voice down" me!— she whisper-shouted back, somehow managing to remain just as dramatic despite lowering her volume by approximately five percent. —You're planning to propose!—
Lando groaned so deeply it sounded as though every ounce of his remaining energy had left his body.
For several long seconds she simply stared at him, visibly trying—and failing—to process that the little boy she'd once chased around karting paddocks with snacks and spare socks was now quietly planning to ask the love of his life to marry him.
Her eyes immediately began watering.
Lando peeked at her through the gaps between his fingers before letting out another long sigh.
—Please don't cry,— he pleaded quietly. —If you start crying, I'm going to start regretting telling you anything.—
Cisca laughed through the tears already threatening to spill over, quickly waving one hand in front of her face as though that simple motion might somehow convince her emotions to calm down. It didn't work in the slightest. Instead, she reached over without thinking and squeezed his forearm, looking at him with an expression that was equal parts disbelief, overwhelming pride, and the bittersweet realization that her little boy had quietly become a man while she wasn't paying attention.
—I'm not crying because I'm upset,— she assured him softly, shaking her head with a watery smile. —I'm crying because... goodness, Lando... I still remember you being twelve years old telling me girls were "far too complicated" and that you'd rather spend your entire life racing cars.—
Lando let out a small, embarrassed laugh.
—I was clearly an idiot.—
—You were twelve.— She smiled warmly. —There's a difference.—
For a few moments, neither of them spoke.
The tiny velvet box remained open between them, its simple gold ring suddenly carrying far more significance than it had only minutes earlier. It wasn't just a borrowed ring anymore. It represented plans that had only existed inside Lando's head until now, dreams he'd been quietly protecting while trying to figure out how to turn them into reality.
He looked down at his hands.
There was a hesitation in his expression that hadn't been there before.
When he finally spoke again, his voice was noticeably quieter.
—Do you remember... Portugal? Back in May?—
Cisca's smile softened almost immediately.
She didn't even need to ask which conversation he meant.
She nodded slowly.
—I do.—
Lando rested his elbows against his knees again, his fingers loosely intertwined while his eyes remained fixed on the carpet beneath them. The nervous energy that had first appeared when she'd opened the velvet box hadn't disappeared. If anything, now that the secret had finally been spoken aloud, it felt even more real. There was no pretending anymore. No hiding behind jokes or changing the subject. For the first time, someone else knew that the plans he'd been quietly carrying around for months had started becoming something tangible.
—I haven't stopped thinking about it since then,— he admitted after a long moment, his voice almost thoughtful now. —That conversation... it never really left my head. I think about it more than I probably should.—
Cisca stayed completely silent, allowing him the space to continue. She knew better than to interrupt moments like these. Whenever Lando chose to open up completely, the words came slowly, carefully assembled, and if she rushed him, he would instinctively retreat back behind a joke before reaching the important part.
He smiled faintly to himself.
—At first I kept telling myself it was just because we'd talked about it. You asked me if I pictured marrying her, and... I don't know... maybe that's why it stayed in my head. But it wasn't that. The truth is I'd already been thinking about it before Portugal.— He let out a quiet laugh through his nose. —Portugal just made me admit it out loud.—
His gaze drifted toward the small velvet box still resting carefully in his mother's hands.
—I think we're both there now.—
Cisca tilted her head ever so slightly.
—What do you mean?—
Lando smiled, softer this time.
—I mean... we've talked about it. Not properly sitting down with calendars and plans or anything like that,— he clarified quickly, laughing to himself. —God, that would be very us though.—
His mum smiled.
He continued.
—But we've had those conversations... the real ones. About marriage. About forever. About children one day. About what we want our lives to look like when Formula One eventually isn't my entire existence anymore. Every time we have one of those conversations... we're always imagining the same future.—
He paused briefly.
—Together.—
The single word hung comfortably between them.
There wasn't a trace of uncertainty in the way he said it.
Only certainty.
—And she wants it too,— he added quietly. —Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not next month. But she wants it. I know she does.—
Cisca felt another wave of emotion settle over her chest.
She remembered the hesitant young couple from years earlier, constantly missing each other, getting the timing wrong, convincing themselves they weren't meant to work despite gravitating back toward each other over and over again. Looking at her son now, there wasn't even the smallest hint of doubt left.
Lando leaned back against the sofa, exhaling slowly as though saying the next words aloud somehow made everything feel far more real than it had inside his own head.
—I think... maybe it's time to start planning it properly,— he admitted quietly. —Not because I want to ask her next week or anything like that... but because I know myself.—
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, equal parts amused and self-aware.
—I overthink absolutely everything. You know I do. If I want something to be perfect, I end up making seventeen spreadsheets, thirty-seven notes on my phone, and somehow convincing myself I need another six months just to choose the right pen.—
Cisca laughed warmly, shaking her head.
—I was wondering when the spreadsheets would make an appearance.—
—You know I'm right,— Lando replied, smiling tiredly. —This isn't... buying a watch or planning a birthday dinner. This is probably the biggest moment of our lives. I don't ever want her to look back at it and think I rushed any part of it.—
His eyes dropped once more toward the little velvet box.
—I want everything to feel like her.—
The words were simple.
But they carried enough tenderness that Cisca felt her throat tighten all over again.
Lando rested his forearms on his knees, absentmindedly rubbing his palms together while his thoughts wandered months ahead.
—I don't even have the easiest schedule for something like this. Between races, simulator days, sponsor commitments... finding a few days where I can actually disappear without raising suspicion is already complicated enough.— He laughed softly under his breath. —She notices everything too. If I suddenly start acting weird, she'll know immediately.—
—She probably will,— Cisca admitted with an amused smile.
—Exactly. So I have to be patient. I have to make it believable. Natural. Otherwise she'll figure it out before I even get down on one knee.—
He paused, looking thoughtful again.
—And before any of that... there are people I need to speak to.—
Cisca's expression softened.
She already knew where this was going.
—I obviously want to talk to her parents first,— Lando continued. —Not because I think I need permission... I know that's not really how they see things. But I respect them. They've treated me like family since before Amelie and I even figured ourselves out. I couldn't imagine asking her without sitting down with them first.—
He smiled faintly, remembering countless dinners in Mérida, lazy Sunday breakfasts, Stella teasing him about stealing food from the kitchen before everyone else had even woken up.
—They deserve to know before anyone else does.—
Cisca nodded immediately.
—I think they'd appreciate that very much.—
Lando nodded absentmindedly before another thought settled across his features, making his smile become quieter.
—And... I want to talk to Cameron's family too.—
The room fell noticeably quieter.
Not awkwardly.
Respectfully.
Cisca looked at him carefully without interrupting.
Lando stared down at his clasped hands for several seconds before speaking again.
—I know some people probably wouldn't understand that,— he admitted. —But... it matters to me.—
His voice remained calm, steady, filled with quiet conviction rather than uncertainty.
—Cameron was part of her life. A huge part of it. He wasn't just an ex-boyfriend. For a long time... he was the person she thought she'd spend forever with.—
He swallowed gently.
—Then life took that away from her.—
The words settled heavily between them.
Outside, muffled footsteps echoed somewhere beyond the driver's room, but neither of them paid the slightest attention.
Lando continued softly.
—His parents... his sister... they never stopped loving her. Even after everything happened, they kept her in their lives. They still call her on birthdays. They still invite her over. She still visits them whenever she's back in LA.—
He smiled to himself.
—They're part of her family now.—
Another quiet pause.
—I don't want them finding out through Instagram or headlines or somebody else. I want them to hear it from me.—
He looked toward his mother.
—Not because I'm asking for permission.—
His smile became almost shy.
—Because... I want them to know I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make the girl Cameron loved as happy as he would've wanted her to be.—
Cisca felt tears prick behind her eyes all over again.
Not dramatic tears.
Gentle ones.
The kind born entirely from pride.
She reached over, taking one of his hands between both of hers.
—I think that's one of the most thoughtful things I've ever heard you say.—
Lando shrugged sheepishly.
—I just... I think he'd be happy she found someone again.—
His eyes drifted toward the window overlooking the Spa paddock.
—For years she carried so much guilt about moving forward. Even when we started dating again, there were moments where she'd apologize for being happy. Like somehow happiness meant she was leaving him behind.—
His voice softened further.
—I never wanted her to feel like loving me erased him.—
Cisca squeezed his hand.
—And it doesn't.—
He nodded.
—I know. She knows now too, I think. But... I still want his family to know that I understand what they all went through. I respect it. I respect him. I always will.—
Silence returned for another few moments.
It wasn't the silence of unfinished thoughts anymore.
It was the silence that followed honesty.
Finally, Lando let out a slow breath before laughing quietly.
—See? This is exactly why I need time.—
Cisca smiled through watery eyes.
—Because your proposal planning already has emotional stakeholder meetings?—
He laughed properly this time.
—Exactly! It's becoming a corporate project.—
She couldn't help laughing with him.
—Only you could turn proposing into project management.—
—I've got deliverables.—
—Lando.—
—A timeline.—
—Darling...—
—Risk assessment.—
Cisca burst into another fit of laughter, lightly swatting his arm.
—Stop it.—
—Communication strategy.—
She shook her head, still laughing.
—You are impossible.—
He grinned.
—I know.—
The smile slowly faded into something softer again.
—But underneath all the ridiculous planning...—
He glanced once more at the tiny velvet box resting between them.
Cisca waited.
—I want her to feel completely loved.—
His answer came without hesitation.
—From the second she wakes up that morning until the second we go to sleep that night... I want her to know that every tiny detail existed because of her. Because I know her. Because I listened. Because she's worth every bit of effort.—
He smiled quietly.
—She deserves perfect.—
Cisca looked at him for several long seconds before reaching up to gently brush another curl away from his forehead, exactly as she had done thousands of times throughout his life.
—I hope you know something.— Lando looked at her. —You're never going to make it perfect.—
He blinked.
Her smile grew warmer.
—Because perfect doesn't exist.— She rested her hand gently against his cheek.
—But if you ask that girl to marry you with the same love you've just spoken about for the last twenty minutes...— Her voice trembled ever so slightly. —...it'll be perfect to her.—
Lando's eyes immediately softened.
He smiled, small but genuine.
—I hope so.—
Before either of them could say another word, a familiar voice suddenly echoed from the hallway outside.
—Has anyone seen Mum? She disappeared ages ago!—
Cisca and Lando looked toward the closed door simultaneously.
A second later, another voice answered.
—I think she went to check on Lando.—
Lando's eyes widened.
He looked back at his mother.
—You cannot tell anyone.—
She gasped dramatically, placing one hand over her heart.
—Lando Norris.—
—I mean it.—
She smiled with unmistakable affection.
—Your secret is completely safe with me.—
She reached over, carefully closing the little velvet box before placing it gently back into his hands.
Then, unable to resist, she leaned forward and wrapped both arms tightly around her son.
When she spoke again, her voice was little more than a whisper against his shoulder.
—I cannot wait for Amelie to become a Norris.—
Lando closed his eyes for just a moment, smiling into the embrace.
Neither could he.
--------------
liked by gridgirlie, amesdefender, and others
amelieupdates: Amelie was photographed arriving at FX Studios in Vancouver this morning, kicking off another day on set.
View all 943 comments
amesnation: GIRL IS CLOCKING IN 😭🎬
→ papayagirl: meanwhile i'm struggling to answer emails
→ ameliecentral: actress era continues
amesdefender: she looks so pretty for a work morning 😭
→ orange4ever: i'd look half asleep
papayahq: okay so she's definitely not in Spa 🥹
→ lanmeliehub: filming comes first this week
→ amesupdates: we'll survive... probably
amelieupdates: another day, another slay outside the studio 😭
→ amesnation: someone cast her in everything
→ papayagirl: honestly
f1gossipdaily: meanwhile Lando is in Belgium looking like he just left the airport 😭
→ orangeobsession: long-distance weekend it is
amesdefender: she really went from the World Cup to set in like two days 😭
→ papayahq: her schedule scares me
→ orange4ever: when does she sleep??
moviebuff: i NEED to know what they're filming already 😭
→ ameliecentral: FX PLEASE GIVE US SOMETHING
→ amesnation: i'm begging
papayagirl: the water in her hand is so real 😭
lanmeliehub: okay who's flying to who after this weekend 👀
→ papayahq: asking the important questions
→ amesupdates: i'm already thinking ahead 😭
amesnation: she always looks so happy arriving to work 🥹
→ amesdefender: you can tell she loves acting
orangeobsession: one is at a race track, one is at a film studio 😭
→ gridgirlie: power couple things
→ f1updates: booked and busy
ameliecentral: imagine casually walking into work and photographers are waiting 😭
→ papayahq: couldn't be me
→ orange4ever: i'd turn around
papayagirl: okay but THE OUTFIT???
→ amesnation: she never misses
amesupdates: Vancouver has become a second home at this point 😭
→ amesdefender: she's basically a local now
→ papayahq: someone get her a loyalty card
f1updates: no paddock Amelie this weekend but actress Amelie content instead 🫶
→ orangeobsession: i'll take it honestly
moviefan22: every paparazzi photo just makes me more excited for this project 😭
→ ameliecentral: SAME
→ amesnation: FX please feed us
papayaprincess: imagine finishing a World Cup date night and immediately going back to work 😭
→ orange4ever: no rest for the booked
amesdefender: i hope she's having fun filming 🥹🤍
→ papayahq: she always looks so excited heading to set
→ papayagirl: rooting for her always
lanmeliehub: she's making movies while he's making lap times 😭
→ orangeobsession: everyone's busy this week
--------------
The door to Amelie's trailer clicked shut behind her with a quiet thud.
For the first time since arriving on set that morning, silence finally surrounded her.
Or at least, that was what she expected.
She let out a slow breath as she kicked off her trainers near the entrance, already mentally planning the next two hours. A long shower first. One hot enough to wash away the exhaustion that had settled into every muscle after another day beneath Vancouver's summer sun. Then she'd collapse into bed for a quick nap before returning to set for the night's schedule, where they were expected to film until nearly three o'clock Friday morning.
It wasn't glamorous.
It wasn't particularly healthy either.
But it was the reality of filming.
Night shoots meant sleeping whenever and wherever the opportunity presented itself.
Instead of peaceful silence, however, the trailer exploded with a deafening chorus of digital sound effects.
—NO, NO, NO!—
—I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU THROW THAT SHELL—
—GET ABSOLUTELY FUCKED!
The unmistakable victory music from Mario Kart blasted through the living area at a volume that made Amelie physically stop in the doorway.
She blinked.
For a second, her sleep-deprived brain genuinely questioned whether she'd accidentally walked into someone else's trailer.
Then she saw them.
Owen sat sprawled across one end of the couch, controller gripped so tightly his knuckles had turned white, leaning so aggressively toward the television that it looked as though he believed the extra body weight would somehow help his tiny digital kart corner better. Beside him, Jack mirrored the exact same posture, both feet planted firmly on the floor while he mashed every button available with complete determination.
Neither of them had noticed her.
Yet.
—YES! BLUE SHELL!— Jack shouted triumphantly.
Owen gasped in genuine horror.
—You're the worst human being I've ever met!—
—I'M WINNING!—
—I HOPE YOUR CHARACTER FALLS OFF THE MAP!—
The television flashed with another explosion.
Both men simultaneously yelled.
Amelie remained frozen beside the door for another heartbeat, one hand still wrapped around the strap of her tote bag while she stared at the completely unexpected scene unfolding in the middle of what was supposed to be her trailer.
Then, almost as though some invisible instinct had warned them they were no longer alone, both Owen and Jack turned their heads at exactly the same time.
Three pairs of eyes met across the room.
The Mario Kart race continued completely unattended in the background.
For two full seconds, nobody said a word.
Then Owen pointed dramatically toward her without taking his eyes off her face.
—She's here.—
Jack looked from Amelie to the paused race still continuing on the television before immediately dropping his controller onto the couch.
—Amelie!—
She blinked.
—This is my trailer.—
—Exactly!—
—Which is why you're just in time,— Owen announced as though that somehow explained everything.
Amelie looked between the two of them before glancing around the trailer, half expecting someone from production to jump out and explain why two grown men had apparently claimed her sofa while screaming at cartoon turtles.
Amelie let out the slowest sigh of her entire day.
Not because she was annoyed.
Mostly because, after nearly two months of filming together, she already knew exactly how this conversation was going to end.
The cast of Adults had somehow developed an almost supernatural inability to spend time alone. If one person disappeared into their trailer for more than twenty minutes, someone else inevitably wandered in under the excuse of borrowing a charger, asking about lunch, or "accidentally" ending up there before settling in for hours.
Privacy had quietly become a myth.
She'd stopped fighting it somewhere around week three.
—You're both aware there are... literally five other trailers you could be invading right now?— she asked, dropping her tote bag onto the kitchen counter.
Owen nodded without the slightest shame.
—Yeah.—
Jack nodded too.
—But yours has the better couch.—
Amelie closed her eyes for exactly three seconds, debating whether she had enough energy left to argue with either of them.
She didn't.
Not even remotely.
With another long, dramatically defeated sigh, she reached behind herself to lock the trailer door before walking farther inside, her shoulders visibly sagging beneath the weight of a fourteen-hour workday. The air conditioning hummed softly around them, a welcome contrast to the warm Vancouver afternoon outside, while another Mario Kart race had already started on the television without either Owen or Jack acknowledging the previous one's result.
—I hate both of you,— she mumbled tiredly, though there wasn't an ounce of genuine annoyance behind the words.
Owen grinned immediately.
—No, you don't.—
—You tolerate us at worst,— Jack added confidently.
—That's practically affection.—
Amelie shook her head, laughing under her breath despite herself.
Somehow they'd become exactly the kind of people she expected to exhaust her.
Instead... they mostly just made impossibly long filming days feel shorter.
—Come here!— Owen said, lifting one arm dramatically without ever taking his eyes off Rainbow Road. —We're cuddling.—
Amelie looked at him like he'd completely lost his mind.
—We're what?—
—Cuddling,— Jack repeated matter-of-factly, gesturing toward the empty space between them as though inviting someone onto the couch was the most obvious thing in the world. —You're exhausted. We're exhausted. This is emotional support Mario Kart.—
—That's not a thing.—
—It absolutely is.—
Owen nodded in complete agreement.
—Doctor's orders.—
—Neither of you are doctors.—
—Minor technicality.—
Amelie pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling another sigh threatening to escape before she'd even made it fully into the living area. She'd spent enough time around the cast by now to know resistance only prolonged whatever ridiculous situation they'd created for themselves.
Fighting them required energy.
Energy she simply didn't possess.
With the defeated acceptance of someone who knew she'd already lost, she crossed the remaining distance toward the couch.
—You're both unbelievable.—
—We've been told that before,— Jack replied proudly.
Without another word, Amelie let her entire body collapse sideways across the remaining cushion.
The movement was completely devoid of grace.
She practically melted into the sofa, one arm dangling toward the floor while her head landed heavily in Owen's lap with enough trust that he instinctively lifted one hand from the controller just long enough to keep her from bumping against the armrest.
Not a single one of them questioned it.
It had become strangely normal.
Filming fourteen-hour days together had quietly erased most concepts of personal space weeks ago. Everyone borrowed everyone else's hoodies, stole food off each other's plates, fell asleep against whichever shoulder happened to be closest during breaks, and collectively occupied whichever trailer currently had functioning air conditioning.
Owen simply adjusted his posture slightly so she could lie more comfortably before immediately returning both hands to his controller.
—There she is,— he said with satisfaction.
—The cuddle's complete now,— Jack announced dramatically.
Amelie let out a tired groan without opening her eyes.
—I genuinely don't understand how either of you survive adulthood.—
—Neither do we.—
—Every day's a surprise.—
She laughed quietly despite herself.
The television filled the trailer with another barrage of explosions, item boxes, and dramatically shouted accusations as Owen narrowly avoided another red shell.
Amelie barely registered any of it.
For the first time all day, her body wasn't moving.
She could finally breathe.
After another minute of simply listening to the familiar chaos around her, she reached lazily into the pocket of her oversized sweatshirt before pulling out her phone.
Her thumb automatically found Lando's contact.
She didn't even think about it.
Some habits had quietly become instinct over the last year, and calling Lando whenever she finally had five uninterrupted minutes to herself had become one of them. It didn't matter whether he answered or not. Sometimes they only had enough time to exchange a couple of sentences before one of them got dragged back to work, but hearing his voice, even briefly, somehow made impossible schedules feel a little less impossible.
She pressed the call button, not even thinking about it.
Some habits had quietly become instinct over the last year, and calling Lando whenever she finally had five uninterrupted minutes to herself had become one of them. It didn't matter whether he answered or not. Sometimes they only had enough time to exchange a couple of sentences before one of them got dragged back to work, but hearing his voice, even briefly, somehow made impossible schedules feel a little less impossible.
She pressed the call button.
The phone rang once.
Twice.
Three times.
Owen and Jack continued shouting over another Mario Kart race while she stared absentmindedly at the ceiling of the trailer, gently absentmindedly tracing circles against the fabric of her own hoodie with one thumb.
On the fourth ring, she already knew.
Voicemail.
She smiled faintly to herself before ending the call without leaving a message.
Less than ten seconds later, her phone vibrated in her hand.
Lan🧡: Can't answer rn.
Lan🧡: Out having dinner with my Belgian side of the family.
Lan🧡: Remember... Spa is also my home race.
Lan🧡: I'm basically a local celebrity.
Amelie stared at the screen for exactly two seconds.
Then she rolled her eyes so dramatically it made Owen glance down toward her.
—What?— he asked without looking away from the television.
She held up the phone.
—He's insufferable.—
Jack immediately leaned sideways, curiosity winning over whatever race he was currently losing.
—Lemme see.—
Without waiting for permission, he shamelessly peered over her shoulder, reading the messages upside down.
Jack snorted almost immediately, his shoulders beginning to shake with laughter before he'd even finished reading the final text.
—"I'm basically a local celebrity,"— he repeated, looking thoroughly entertained. —Is your boyfriend still in a mood?—
Owen's eyes briefly flickered away from the television.
—What do you mean, "still in a mood"?—
Jack laughed again, dropping his controller into his lap for a second before gesturing dramatically toward Amelie with both hands.
—Mate, you should've seen him at Wimbledon.—
Owen looked genuinely intrigued now.
—I wasn't there.—
—Exactly.— Jack pointed at him as though that explained everything. —He was one jealous comment away from pissing on her leg to mark his territory.—
Amelie burst into laughter, immediately covering her face with one hand.
Owen's controller slipped slightly in his hands as he stared at Jack in complete disbelief before looking down toward Amelie, whose shoulders had already begun shaking with laughter against his lap.
—You're exaggerating.—
—I am absolutely not exaggerating,— Jack defended immediately, pausing the race without consulting anyone else. —Ask her.—
Amelie lowered her hand from her face just enough for an exasperated smile to appear, already knowing there was absolutely no chance of escaping this conversation.
—I am not confirming that comparison,— she laughed, shaking her head against Owen's lap. —It was... dramatic.—
—"Dramatic,"— Jack repeated with theatrical disbelief. —He spent half the afternoon staring at me like I'd personally broken into your apartment.—
Owen's eyebrows climbed higher.
—Seriously?—
Jack nodded enthusiastically.
—Mate, I was literally just sitting next to her watching tennis.—
He pointed toward Amelie as though presenting evidence to a jury.
—She'd ask me something, I'd answer, and every single time I'd look up... there he was.—
Owen looked between the pair of them, thoroughly entertained already.
—No way.—
—Way,— Jack replied immediately, laughing to himself at the memory. —I swear every time I glanced over, he'd somehow moved another six inches closer to her. By the end of Centre Court he practically had one arm permanently around her.—
Amelie let out another laugh, hiding her face behind her phone.
—He was mortified afterwards when he found out we were actually filming together.—
Jack pointed dramatically toward her.
—Exactly!—
Owen frowned.
—Wait... what?—
Jack turned toward him, looking almost offended that this information hadn't already been shared.
—After Wimbledon, she told him I was her co-star.—
Owen's eyes widened.
—He didn't know?—
—Nope.—
Jack burst into another fit of laughter.
—I have never seen someone go from territorial boyfriend to deeply embarrassed human being so quickly.—
Amelie smiled fondly despite herself, replaying the memory.
—He apologized for about twenty minutes.—
—Twenty-five,— Jack corrected.
—It wasn't twenty-five.—
—Emotionally... it felt like twenty-five.—
Owen laughed loudly, nearly dropping his controller.
—Please tell me you bullied him.—
Jack looked offended.
—I was a gentleman.— He paused. —...Eventually.—
That only made both Amelie and Owen laugh harder.
—The first thing I told him was that he looked like he was about to challenge me to a duel,— Jack admitted proudly.
Amelie groaned dramatically.
—I cannot believe you actually said that.—
—I absolutely did.—
Owen wiped an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye.
—That's incredible.—
Jack nodded, completely satisfied with himself.
—Poor bloke genuinely looked ashamed. Kept apologizing because apparently he'd spent an entire afternoon mentally declaring war on someone who was just... doing press with his girlfriend.—
Amelie smiled softly.
—To be fair, he wasn't actually rude.—
—No,— Jack agreed immediately. —He was lovely.—
He shrugged.
—Just hilariously obvious.—
Owen looked down at Amelie with a grin.
—Good.—
She blinked.
—Good?—
—Yeah.— He shrugged casually. —I like seeing people properly obsessed with each other.—
Jack nodded without hesitation.
—Same, life's more entertaining.—
Amelie rolled her eyes affectionately.
—You're both unbelievable.—
—We've established that already.—
She smiled to herself before glancing back down at the conversation still open on her phone.
Another message had appeared.
Lan🧡: Tell Charlie I miss him.
Amelie laughed quietly under her breath and without thinking, she typed back.
Ames💛: You miss Charlie?
A reply appeared almost instantly.
Lan🧡: Obviously.
Lan🧡: You're alright too.
She shook her head.
—He's such an idiot.—
Jack leaned over again.
—Can I...—
—No.—
—I wasn't even finished asking.—
—Still no.—
Owen chuckled.
—Where is he anyway?—
—Belgium,— Amelie answered, locking her phone and tossing it onto her stomach. —They're all having dinner with his Belgian family tonight.—
Jack nodded slowly.
—Right... Spa.—
—Mm-hmm.—
—And you're not going?—
She sighed.
—I couldn't.—
The television continued playing attract mode in the background now that neither of the boys had bothered restarting the race. Animated characters sped across colorful tracks while the three of them remained exactly where they were, the conversation becoming far more interesting than the game.
—I missed almost two weeks of filming because of Silverstone,— Amelie explained. —production already had to reshuffle half my schedule. If I disappeared again this weekend, they'd probably hide my passport.—
Owen nodded thoughtfully.
—I mean... fair.—
Jack, however, tilted his head.
—Hang on.—
He frowned as though mentally calculating something.
—Today's Thursday.—
—Yeah.—
Jack's eyes drifted thoughtfully between Amelie and Owen, the playful expression on his face slowly transforming into something far more dangerous. She had spent enough weeks filming with him to recognize that exact look immediately. It was the expression he wore whenever an idea took root in his head, the kind of idea he personally considered brilliant but that usually resulted in everyone else questioning their life choices. He sat a little straighter on the couch, his controller forgotten entirely, before lifting one finger as though he'd just interrupted a board meeting with a groundbreaking revelation.
—No... hang on a second.—
Amelie narrowed her eyes almost instantly, already suspicious before he'd even continued. She knew that tone far too well by now. Every member of the cast seemed genetically incapable of letting perfectly reasonable situations remain reasonable, and Jack was usually the worst offender. She watched him carefully from where her head still rested comfortably on Owen's lap, already preparing herself for whatever absurd suggestion was inevitably coming next.
—Why are you looking at me like that?—
Jack pointed toward her dramatically, like an overenthusiastic lawyer presenting his final piece of evidence to a jury.
—Because you just said you couldn't miss work.—
—I can't.—
—Exactly.—
He nodded several times, visibly pleased that she was following him so far.
—But... you're working.—
Amelie blinked in confusion, genuinely unsure where this conversation was heading.
—I don't understand what point you're trying to make.—
Instead of answering immediately, Jack threw both arms out toward the trailer around them as though the furniture itself somehow supported his argument.
—Tonight's a night shoot.—
—...Yes.—
—Which means we're filming until, what... two? Three in the morning?—
—Closer to three, assuming nothing goes wrong.—
His grin only widened.
—Perfect.—
By now even Owen had completely abandoned Mario Kart, setting his controller beside him without the slightest hesitation as curiosity replaced the race entirely. He leaned back into the sofa, glancing between Jack and Amelie with growing interest while Jack continued laying out his increasingly suspicious train of thought.
—Okay, so... tonight you work until three in the morning. Then tell me something. Tomorrow's Friday, right?—
Amelie nodded slowly.
—...Yes.—
—Do we have work tomorrow?—
She frowned, unsure why he was asking something everyone already knew.
—No.—
Jack clapped his hands together loudly, startling Owen enough that he actually flinched.
—Exactly!—
The trailer fell quiet again.
Amelie simply stared at him.
Jack stared back with complete confidence, clearly convinced she'd already pieced together whatever master plan existed inside his head. Unfortunately for him, she hadn't.
After several increasingly awkward seconds, she sighed.
—I still have absolutely no idea what you're talking about.—
Jack looked almost offended.
—You finish work tonight.—
—Yes.—
—At some ungodly hour.—
—Correct.—
—And then you're completely off until Monday.—
Another pause followed before he leaned forward, eyebrows raised expectantly.
—So... why aren't you flying to Belgium?—
The words settled over the trailer like someone had unexpectedly dropped a bomb into the middle of an otherwise ordinary conversation.
Amelie blinked once.
Then again.
Owen looked from Jack to Amelie, then back to Jack again, clearly trying to decide whether he'd completely lost his mind or accidentally stumbled onto something genius.
Amelie let out a confused laugh.
—Because... he's already there.—
Jack frowned.
—And?—
—And the race weekend already started.—
—So?—
She stared at him.
—Jack...—
He leaned even farther forward, refusing to abandon the thought.
—No, seriously. What time are you realistically leaving set tonight?—
She thought about the call sheet they'd all studied that morning.
—If nothing gets delayed... probably around three-thirty. Maybe four.—
Jack snapped his fingers before immediately turning back toward Amelie, visibly more excited now that someone else had unintentionally validated his calculations.
—There are overnight flights to Europe every single day.—
Amelie opened her mouth to interrupt.
He simply talked louder.
—You leave set, grab a shower, throw a bag together, head straight to the airport, sleep on the plane, land in Brussels Saturday morning, drive forty-five minutes to Spa...— His finger landed dramatically in her direction. —...and your boyfriend has absolutely no idea you're coming.—
For several long seconds Amelie didn't respond.
Not because she disagreed.
Because the possibility had genuinely never crossed her mind.
She'd spent the entire week convincing herself Belgium simply wasn't an option. Her brain had filed it away the moment production confirmed she couldn't take more time off, and she'd never bothered reopening the discussion after that. Yet somehow Jack had dismantled her entire argument in less than sixty seconds.
Completely unaware of the damage he'd already done, he continued enthusiastically.
—You wouldn't even miss filming. Your schedule stays exactly the same.—
—I would be exhausted.—
Jack shrugged without the slightest concern.
—You're already exhausted.—
She opened her mouth again.
He shrugged once more.
—Difference is you'd be exhausted in Belgium instead of exhausted here watching Netflix by yourself.—
Owen suddenly snapped his fingers, his expression changing as the idea settled into place.
—Actually...— He rubbed thoughtfully at his chin. —I hate admitting this because it'll inflate his ego for weeks...— He pointed toward Jack. —...but that's actually kind of genius.—
Jack immediately looked unbearably pleased with himself.
—I know.—
Amelie stared between both men.
—You two have officially lost your minds.—
—Oh, come on, you know it’s the perfect plan!— Owen insisted, looking down at her with a huge, entirely supportive grin that made her realize she was officially outnumbered in her own trailer. —Think about it, Amelie, you’ve been moping around all week because you were going to miss the race, and now you literally have a three-day window where you can just disappear across the Atlantic and show up in the paddock before he even gets into the car for final practice.—
Amelie let out a breathy, thoroughly overwhelmed laugh, her eyes darting between the two of them as the sheer, chaotic brilliance of the idea began to actually take root in her mind.
—But what about Charlie?— she protested, trying to find at least one logical roadblock to stop herself from booking a flight right this second. —I can’t just leave him at the apartment by himself, and the boarding place requires at least a week’s notice for weekend stays, so the logistics are completely impossible.—
Owen didn't even hesitate, waving his hand dismissively as if the problem had already been solved hours ago.
—Charlie can easily stay with me over the weekend, Amelie, so stop using him as an excuse,— Owen declared with complete confidence, leaning down slightly to nudge her shoulder. —Seriously, he loves hanging out at my place, and it’ll give me an excuse to actually go to the park instead of sitting inside playing video games by myself all Saturday, so you have absolutely zero reasons to stay in Vancouver now.—
Jack clapped his hands together in absolute triumph, pointing a finger dramatically at her face as he saw the final remnants of her hesitation completely crumble under Owen's offer.
—See! The universe is literally telling you to pack a bag and go surprise your boyfriend,— Jack laughed loudly, leaning back into the cushions with a deeply satisfied look. —Go buy the ticket before production calls us back to set, Ames. Trust me, the look on Lando's face when he sees you standing in the McLaren hospitality unit on Saturday morning is going to be worth every single hour of that overnight flight.—
Amelie looked down at the phone still resting against her stomach.
Somewhere in Belgium, Lando was probably sitting around a restaurant table surrounded by his Belgian relatives, undoubtedly still insisting to anyone who would listen that Spa counted as one of his home races simply because his mother had been born there.
He'd spent the entire week trying to convince her to come.
When she couldn't, he'd accepted it.
No guilt.
No pressure.
Just understanding.
He genuinely believed they wouldn't see each other again until August.
Her thumb slowly traced the edge of her phone case while another smile threatened to appear despite every attempt to suppress it.
Finally, almost too quietly for either Owen or Jack to hear, she murmured to herself, —I'll booked my flight then—
As a British girlie I’m happy England are through but now….. OMG!!! we have England vs Mexico!
And after reading the latest chapter (which is incredible btw) my mind went straight to Lando and Amelie watching this match and the chaos unfolding 😭 especially this match being straight after the Silverstone gp!
hii love!! 🥹🤍
HAHAHA I had the exact same reaction when the fixture was confirmed 😭🇬🇧🇲🇽 I was like... this is literally PERFECT for the story.
I'm so happy you enjoyed the latest chapter!! 🫶 And the second I saw England vs. Mexico was actually happening, I knew I had to write it. The timing being right after Silverstone just made everything even better, and there was no way I was going to waste that opportunity. 😂
So... I already wrote the match chapter! ⚽️🤍 In case you missed it, I'll leave the link down below. I had so much fun writing all the chaos, so I really hope you love it.
Thank you so much for reading, for all your support, and for always sending the sweetest messages. 💌 As always, my requests are always open! 🫶
💬 1 🔁 6 ❤️ 129 · everything is romantic · Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman
Summary: Set against the vibrant backdrop of a World Cup knockout
Wait now that the England game ended and we are getting Mexico versus England. Are you we for that? Maybe the Dayman siblings verses their English partners? I can totally see it. Everyone losing their mind.
hii!! 🥹🤍
In the end, I went in a slightly different direction and had them attend the match with their friends, but it's still the Mexico vs. England chapter everyone had been waiting for, and I had so much fun writing it. 🫶
So in case you missed it, I'll leave the link down below! I really hope you enjoy it.
Thank you so much for the request, for reading, and for all the love you give this story. 💌 As always, my requests are always open!
💬 1 🔁 6 ❤️ 129 · everything is romantic · Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman
Summary: Set against the vibrant backdrop of a World Cup knockout
Hi!! I wondering since the World Cup just started if you could do one where they attend a game watching the Mexico team (im from Mexico so i thought that would good!) play or just watching it at home I thought it would be cute!!
Thank you!!
hii love!! 🥹🤍
I absolutely loved this request because, honestly, it's one of the chapters I wanted to write the most. 😭⚽️
And then everything became even more perfect when we got the Mexico vs. England match... I couldn't have asked for a better setup for Amelie and Lando.
So... I already wrote it! 🥹 In case you missed it, I'll leave the link down below because I had so much fun writing that chapter and I really hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
Thank you so much for reading, for the request, and for all the love you give this story. 💌 As always, my requests are always open! 🫶
💬 1 🔁 6 ❤️ 129 · everything is romantic · Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman
Summary: Set against the vibrant backdrop of a World Cup knockout
Summary: Set against the vibrant backdrop of a World Cup knockout match between England and Mexico in Mexico City, the chapter captures the emotional shift of a milestone realization hidden beneath a playful sports rivalry.
Wordcount: 13.7 k
Warnings: none
full masterlist // request over here!
July 12th, 2026 - Mexico City, MX
liked by flo_norris_showjumping, jackdayman, and others
lando and ameliedayman: no couples therapy will be needed after today…
View all 3,495 comments
papayagirl: THIS IS ABOUT TO END IN A BREAKUP 😭⚽️
→ lan4ever: football before love
→ gridgirlie: survival of the strongest
orange4ever: "no couples therapy will be needed" famous last words 😭
→ papayahq: i'll check back after full time
amelieupdates: THE CAPTION IS TAKING ME OUT 😭
f1gossipdaily: someone separate them when a goal gets scored 😭
→ papayaprincess: security on standby
lanmeliehub: this is the healthiest rivalry i've ever seen 😭
→ orangeobsession: until penalties happen
maxfewtrell: see you both in therapy tomorrow 👍
→ lando: booked for 9am already
→ maxfewtrell: knew it
oscarpiastri: i'm supporting whoever wins so i can say i backed them all along
→ lando: unbelievable teammate
→ oscarpiastri: efficient
alex_albon: who's driving home?
→ ameliedayman: depends on the score
→ lando: i'm suddenly nervous
georgerussell63: one of you is sleeping on the sofa tonight
→ lando: we don't own one big enough for that problem
→ georgerussell63: fair enough 😭
charles_leclerc: i support the drama 🍿
carlossainz55: as a neutral... this will be entertaining 😂
→ ameliedayman: you're banned from celebrating either way
→ carlossainz55: understood 🫡
maxverstappen1: imagine caring about football this much 😭
→ lando: says the man who screams at football every tournament
→ maxverstappen1: fake news
jackdayman: can't wait for the post-match debrief 😂
→ ameliedayman: it will be a powerpoint presentation
elysiadayman: i'm just here for the matching jerseys 🥹
→ ameliedayman: priorities
alexwolffofficial: if England wins i'm not answering your calls for 24 hours
→ ameliedayman: fake friend
flo_norris_showjumping: remember to be nice to each other 😂❤️
→ lando: no promises
→ ameliedayman: i'll try
olivernorris1: i'm expecting the correct result 🇬🇧
→ ameliedayman: awkward...
f1updates: imagine the atmosphere in their section 😭
→ lan4ever: every goal = relationship test
papayahq: i need cameras on them more than the match honestly
→ orange4ever: same priorities
amesnation: watch them celebrate each other's goals anyway 🥹
ameliedayman: if anyone sees him celebrating against mexico... no you didn't 🇲🇽🙂
→ lando: ??? that's literally my job today 😂
→ ameliedayman: incorrect
lando: just so everyone knows she already threatened to leave me at the stadium 👍
→ ameliedayman: and i stand by it 😌
→ maxfewtrell: THIS MATCH HASN'T EVEN STARTED 😭
papayagirl: THEY'RE SO STUPID I'M CRYING 😭😭😭
→ lan4ever: never change please
→ orangeobsession: best couple on this app honestly
--------------
The sprawling Airbnb mansion had settled into the kind of comfortable chaos that only came from four people sharing the same space for several days. Sunlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the garden, illuminating half-empty coffee mugs, yesterday's newspapers, and a pair of football scarves abandoned across the marble coffee table after an unnecessarily passionate debate about England's chances the previous night. Somewhere upstairs, the distant sound of laughter drifted through the open hallway, followed by drawers opening and closing as the girls continued getting ready.
Downstairs, however, absolutely nothing productive was happening.
Lando and Max Fewtrell had been occupying opposite ends of the enormous cream-colored sectional sofa for nearly forty minutes, each wearing England's red away jersey with matching black shorts. The television played quietly in the background, cycling through pre-match coverage from Estadio Azteca, but neither of them had paid attention in several minutes. Instead, both sat in the universal posture of two men waiting for their girlfriends—slouched comfortably into the cushions, phones in hand, occasionally exchanging comments without ever really looking up from their screens.
Max let out a dramatic sigh.
—I reckon they've started rebuilding the entire bathroom up there,— he muttered, scrolling through his messages before checking the time again. —We've been ready for ages.—
Lando hummed absentmindedly.
—Mm-hmm.—
Max looked over.
That response alone was suspicious.
Ordinarily, Lando would've immediately agreed and probably added something about how women possessed an entirely different understanding of time before making a joke about missing kickoff. Instead, he barely seemed to have registered the conversation at all.
Max lowered his phone onto his lap, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly as he studied his best friend from the opposite end of the sofa.
Lando hadn't moved.
His elbows rested on his knees, completely absorbed by whatever was on his screen. Every few seconds his thumb would scroll down, pause, scroll back up again, zoom in on something, then shake his head almost imperceptibly before continuing his search. It was far more concentration than Max had ever seen him dedicate to social media.
—Mate,— Max called.
Lando didn't answer.
He was still staring at his phone with an intensity usually reserved for race data or FIFA Ultimate Team during lockdown. His eyebrows pulled together thoughtfully as he pinched the screen to zoom in on another photograph before tilting his head ever so slightly, silently comparing one design against another.
—Mate,— Max repeated, louder this time.
—Hmm?—
—Should we go upstairs and remind them the match actually starts today?—
—Give them another five minutes.—
—Five minutes?— Max scoffed, throwing his head back against the plush cushions. —We both know that in girl-time, five minutes actually means thirty. If we don’t move now, we’re going to miss the national anthems completely.—
Lando didn't even blink, his thumb performing another quick swipe across the illuminated glass.
—Just relax, Fewtrell. Azteca traffic is going to be a nightmare anyway, so five minutes won't change our lives.—
Max rolled his eyes, shifting his weight to lean over the armrest so he could look at his friend. He was just about to make a sharp comment about Lando's sudden, uncharacteristic patience when his eyes naturally drifted down, catching a clear glimpse of the bright display before Lando could react.
The screen wasn't showing a car, a race track, or a stream. It was parked on a highly aesthetic Instagram grid filled with macro photography of gleaming platinum, intricate gold bands, and massive, flawless diamonds that practically blinded him through the screen.
Max’s jaw dropped instantly, his eyes widening to the size of saucers.
—What the hell are you doing?— Max asked, his voice suddenly cutting right through the quiet hum of the television pre-match show.
Lando’s entire body went rigid. With the panic of a teenager caught doing something highly illegal, he abruptly slapped his phone face-down against his thigh, clearing his throat as he tried—and completely failed—to adopt an air of casual, nonchalant innocence.
Max stared at him for another second before slowly blinking.
Then he pointed toward the phone still lying face-down on Lando's thigh.
—I... I'm sorry,— he said carefully. —Did I just hallucinate an entire Instagram page full of engagement rings, or are you actually sitting here shopping for diamonds five hours before England kick off?—
Lando scratched the back of his neck.
—I wasn't shopping.— Lando sighed. —I was... looking.—
Lando let out a slow sigh, rubbing the back of his neck before finally reaching down to pick the phone back up. There was absolutely no point pretending anymore. Max had already seen enough to know exactly what he'd been looking at, and lying to the one person who knew him better than almost anyone else would've been completely pointless.
—I was just... looking,— he repeated, sounding almost embarrassed by the admission.
Max continued staring at him in complete disbelief, his mouth hanging slightly open as though he genuinely couldn't decide whether he should laugh first or ask another question. Of every possible thing he'd expected to catch Lando doing while supposedly waiting for the girls, scrolling through engagement rings had ranked somewhere below learning Mandarin or researching alpaca farms. It simply hadn't been on his mental bingo card for the afternoon.
—Looking?— Max repeated slowly, emphasizing the word with obvious skepticism. —Mate, you weren't "looking." You were zooming in. There were comparisons happening. You had that face you get when you're choosing race strategy.—
Lando couldn't help letting out a small laugh, shaking his head as he looked back down at his phone.
—I know.—
—No... seriously.— Max leaned forward, resting both elbows on his knees. —What are you actually doing?—
For a moment, Lando simply looked at the screen again before locking it and placing the phone beside him on the sofa.
He took a slow breath.
—I don't know... I think I'm just starting to look at options.—
Max blinked.
—Options?—
Lando nodded.
—Maybe over summer break.— He shrugged, trying to sound far more casual than he actually felt. —Just... seeing what's out there. Getting ideas before I actually walk into a jeweler looking completely clueless.—
—Wait, wait, wait,— Max said, shifting his entire body around on the sectional until he was sitting cross-legged, staring at Lando as if he had just grown a second head. —You're serious. Like, actual engagement rings? For Amelie?—
Lando rolled his eyes, though the heat instantly flushing his cheeks completely betrayed him.
—No, Max, for Pietra. Of course for Amelie, you absolute idiot,— Lando muttered, running a hand through his curls while his thumb flipped the phone face-up again, exposing the grid of delicate bands and custom diamond cuts.
Max stared at him for another long second before the corners of his mouth slowly lifted into a grin that was equal parts disbelief and genuine happiness.
—I can't believe we're actually having this conversation,— he admitted, shaking his head with a soft laugh. —You know, five years ago the biggest commitment you could make was signing a two-year Twitch sponsorship.—
Lando snorted quietly.
—I know.—
—And now you're comparing diamond cuts.—
—Apparently.—
Max leaned back into the sofa cushions, folding one leg beneath himself while studying his best friend with an expression that had become noticeably softer. The teasing was still there—of course it was—but beneath it sat something undeniably sincere. They'd spent the better part of a decade growing up together. Max had witnessed every version of Lando: the awkward teenager obsessed with racing simulators, the overwhelmed rookie trying to navigate Formula One, the young man who swore he'd never settle down anytime soon, and now... this.
It was strange.
In the best possible way.
—So...— Max said after a moment. —You've actually started thinking about it properly? Not just one of those "maybe one day" thoughts?—
Lando rested his forearms across his knees, his phone dangling loosely between his hands.
—I think so.—
He rubbed his thumb absentmindedly along the edge of his phone, staring down at the dark screen for a few seconds before looking back at Max. There wasn't the slightest trace of his usual joking confidence now. Instead, there was something quieter, something more vulnerable than Max had seen in a long time.
—I don't think it's a "one day" thing anymore,— Lando admitted honestly. —I think... it's becoming a "when" thing.—
The words settled between them.
Max simply nodded.
He understood that difference better than almost anyone.
For years, marriage had existed as one of those distant milestones people joked about eventually reaching. Something that belonged to another version of themselves, much older and somehow more grown-up. Then, almost without warning, one day it stopped feeling hypothetical.
It simply started feeling... right.
He leaned back into the sofa, folding his arms loosely across his chest.
—I know exactly what you mean.—
Lando looked over.
—You do?—
Max smiled to himself before letting out a quiet laugh.
—I haven't told anyone this... not even Pietra, obviously... but I've started thinking about it too.—
Lando's eyebrows immediately lifted.
—Seriously?—
Max nodded.
—Yeah.—
He shrugged almost sheepishly.
—I don't know when. I genuinely haven't got a clue. But lately... every time I picture the next five or ten years, she's there. Every version of my future has her in it without me even trying to imagine it.—
Lando smiled.
—That's exactly it.—
Neither of them spoke for a few moments.
The television continued showing interviews with former footballers predicting the evening's match, but neither of them paid the slightest attention anymore. The conversation had drifted somewhere far more important than football.
Lando let his head rest against the back of the sofa, quietly turning his phone over in his hands while sunlight streamed through the enormous windows overlooking the pool. Somewhere upstairs another burst of laughter echoed through the house, followed by what sounded suspiciously like Pietra insisting she couldn't find one of her earrings. It made both men smile automatically. Moments like these had become strangely ordinary over the past few years, weekends away together, holidays, races, and random trips blending into a version of adulthood neither of them had imagined when they first met as teenagers.
Max broke the comfortable silence first.
—It's funny,— he admitted thoughtfully. —Because when people ask whether I'm ready, I always say, "Maybe one day." But in my head... I stopped thinking about whether I'm ready months ago. I started thinking about whether she'd like the proposal instead. That's when I realized something had changed.—
Lando looked across the sofa at him before slowly nodding.
—I know exactly what you mean.—
He smiled faintly.
—I don't really think about being married anymore. I just think about... Amelie being my wife.—
The sentence hung comfortably in the air.
Max let out a soft whistle.
—Blimey.— He laughed quietly. —You've got it bad.—
—I know.— Lando smiled without a trace of embarrassment. —I don't even care anymore.—
Max studied his best friend for a long moment before speaking again, his expression noticeably more serious now.
—I think you're going to do it.—
Lando glanced over.
—I think so too.—
He leaned forward again, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked toward the garden outside.
—I don't know exactly when. Maybe this year... maybe later. I haven't figured any of that out yet. But I know it's her. I knew that ages ago.—
Max nodded slowly.
—I don't think anyone who's actually watched you two is surprised by that.—
Lando laughed under his breath.
—I hope she won't be either.—
—Oh, she'll absolutely cry.— Max grinned. —Probably before you've even finished asking.—
Lando let his head rest against the back of the sofa, quietly turning his phone over in his hands while sunlight streamed through the enormous windows overlooking the pool. Somewhere upstairs another burst of laughter echoed through the house, followed by what sounded suspiciously like Pietra insisting she couldn't find one of her earrings. It made both men smile automatically. Moments like these had become strangely ordinary over the past few years, weekends away together, holidays, races, and random trips blending into a version of adulthood neither of them had imagined when they first met as teenagers.
Max broke the comfortable silence first.
—It's funny,— he admitted thoughtfully. —Because when people ask whether I'm ready, I always say, "Maybe one day." But in my head... I stopped thinking about whether I'm ready months ago. I started thinking about whether she'd like the proposal instead. That's when I realized something had changed.—
Lando looked across the sofa at him before slowly nodding.
—I know exactly what you mean.—
He smiled faintly.
—I don't really think about being married anymore. I just think about... Amelie being my wife.—
The sentence hung comfortably in the air.
Max let out a soft whistle.
—Blimey.— He laughed quietly. —You've got it bad.—
—I know.— Lando smiled without a trace of embarrassment. —I don't even care anymore.—
Max studied his best friend for a long moment before speaking again, his expression noticeably more serious now.
—I think you're going to do it.—
Lando glanced over.
—I think so too.—
He leaned forward again, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked toward the garden outside.
—I don't know exactly when. Summer break maybe... maybe later. I haven't figured any of that out yet. But I know it's her. I knew that ages ago.—
Max nodded slowly.
—I don't think anyone who's actually watched you two is surprised by that.—
Lando laughed under his breath.
—I hope she won't be either.—
—Oh, she'll absolutely cry.— Max grinned. —Probably before you've even finished asking.—
Lando smiled at the thought.
—I hope so.—
Max's grin softened into something more thoughtful before he took a slow breath.
—Can I be honest with you?—
—Since when aren't you?—
—Fair point.—
He shifted slightly on the sofa, looking directly at Lando now.
—I know how you're feeling because I'm starting to feel it too. I really do. But... I'm also going to tell you the things everyone else is probably thinking but won't actually say to your face.—
Lando raised an eyebrow.
—Go on then.—
Max rubbed his hands together absentmindedly before speaking.
—You know what the headlines are going to look like.—
Lando's expression remained neutral.
—They're going to say you're too young. That you're rushing it. They'll say you're only twenty-six, that you've both got careers that barely let you stay in the same country for more than a week. They'll write pieces about statistics, celebrity relationships, Formula One schedules, pop tours... the whole lot.—
Lando quietly listened.
Max continued.
—Some people will say you've been together long enough. Other people will say you've waited too long. Some will claim she's sacrificing too much. Others will claim you're sacrificing too much. There'll be strangers convinced they know your relationship better than either of you does.—
He let out a knowing little laugh.
—And if she says yes, which, for the record, I think she absolutely will, the internet's going to lose its mind for about three weeks.—
Lando couldn't help smiling.
—Only three? That's optimistic.—
Max laughed.
—I was being generous.—
His smile faded into something gentler.
—The important bit is... none of those people are living your life.—
Lando remained quiet.
Max shrugged.
—People are always going to have opinions because of who you both are. They don't see the normal stuff. They don't see movie nights. Grocery shopping. Walking Charlie. They don't see you arguing over what takeaway to order or who forgot to charge the coffee machine.—
He smiled knowingly.
—They see race weekends and sold-out stadiums. That's not the relationship. That's the job.—
Lando looked down at his hands for a moment before nodding.
—Exactly.—
Max continued carefully.
—The only thing I'd tell you is... make sure you're doing it because the timing feels right for the two of you. Not because everyone keeps asking when it's happening.—
Lando looked back up.
—I am.—
—I know you are.—
Another quiet silence settled between them before Lando finally spoke again.
—I honestly don't give a shit what people think anymore.—
He smiled, almost to himself.
—I spent years worrying about headlines and comments and whether people approved of everything I did. Then one day I realized... none of those people are coming home with us at night. None of them know her. None of them know us.—
His smile widened.
—If she's happy... that's literally all I care about.—
Max nodded with genuine admiration.
—I figured you'd say that.—
Lando chuckled.
—I mean it.—
He picked up his phone again, glancing briefly at the jewelry page still open before locking the screen.
—The only person whose opinion actually matters is hers.—
Before Max could reply, the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoed down the grand staircase, followed immediately by laughter that filled the entrance hall.
Both men instinctively looked toward the foyer.
Pietra appeared first, effortlessly making her way down the final few steps in Mexico's green national team jersey tucked into denim shorts, her blonde hair falling over one shoulder. Right behind her came Amelie, wearing the exact same green Mexico shirt with relaxed white shorts and brown boots, her curly hair swaying as she laughed at something Pietra had just whispered.
Lando blinked.
Then looked at Max.
Then back at the girls.
—Hold on...— he said, pointing dramatically toward their shirts. —What's this?—
Pietra spread her arms proudly.
—I made an executive decision.—
Max frowned.
—You're Brazilian.—
—I am.—
She nodded confidently.
—Brazil got eliminated this afternoon, which means my patriotic duties have officially expired.—
She slipped an arm around Amelie's shoulders with a grin.
—Now I'm supporting Latin America.—
Amelie laughed.
—She spent ten minutes explaining the geopolitical importance of this decision while we were upstairs.—
—I did no such thing.— Pietra smiled innocently.
—You absolutely did,— Amelie replied, unable to stop laughing.
Lando looked utterly betrayed.
—So... my own girlfriend is supporting Mexico?—
Amelie tilted her head.
—I mean... I am Mexican.—
He pretended to think about it.
—I suppose that's a reasonable excuse.—
She smiled sweetly.
—I thought so too.—
Max stood up from the sofa, shaking his head dramatically as he looked between the two couples.
—Well... this should make the drive to Azteca interesting.—
Lando slipped his phone into his pocket, the conversation about engagement rings quietly tucked away with it for now.
There would be another time to think about diamonds.
At the moment... England had two very unexpected rivals to argue with all the way to Estadio Azteca.
--------------
liked by gridgirlie, orangeobsession, and others
fifaworldcup: When football brings special guests together. 🤝⚽️
Lando Norris and Amelie Dayman welcomed to the Estadio Azteca ahead of tonight's England 🇬🇧 vs Mexico 🇲🇽 showdown. What better way to celebrate the beautiful game?
View all 854 comments
papayagirl: WHY ARE THEY MEETING THE FIFA PRESIDENT 😭😭😭
→ orange4ever: casually collecting side quests
→ gridgirlie: their lives are actually insane
lanmeliehub: THEY LOOK SO PROUD IN THEIR NATIONAL JERSEYS 🥹
→ papayahq: this is so wholesome
→ f1updates: both repping their countries 🫶
amesnation: the fact that neither of them compromised and wore their OWN jersey 😭
→ orangeobsession: exactly as it should be
f1gossipdaily: not them becoming honorary football celebrities 😭
→ gridgirlie: they've unlocked another achievement
→ lan4ever: next thing you know they're presenting the trophy
englandfan: COME ON LANDO 🏴
→ mexicofan: VAMOS AMELIE 🇲🇽
→ papayagirl: the comments are already a war 😭
f1updates: imagine explaining to someone five years ago that an F1 driver and a pop star would be official guests at a World Cup match 😭
→ orange4ever: sounds fake but here we are
amelieupdates: SHE LOOKS SO HAPPY REPRESENTING MEXICO 🥹🇲🇽
→ amesdefender: i'm emotional already
→ orangegrid: queen behavior
landostandhq: Lando wearing the England shirt with THAT smile 😭
→ lan4ever: man's ready for kickoff
→ papayagirl: he's taking this very seriously
footballfan22: i need a camera on these two the entire match 😭
papayaprincess: they're standing together now but give it 10 minutes into the match 😭
→ orangeobsession: friendship suspended for 90 minutes
→ gridgirlie: survival mode activated
f1detectives: i KNOW they've already been arguing about the score prediction 😭
→ detectiveera: absolutely no doubt
orange4ever: they really went from Silverstone to Wimbledon to the World Cup 😭
→ papayagirl: busiest couple alive
→ f1updates: passport getting WORKED
amesnation: this is actually such a cool moment for both of them 🥹
→ papayahq: representing their countries together 🤍
→ orangegrid: love this for them
mexicofan: Amelie better not celebrate an England goal 🤨😂
→ englandfan: and Lando better not celebrate Mexico 😭
→ papayaprincess: impossible challenge
gridgirlie: i just know they're talking trash to each other already 😭
papayagirl: whoever approved this guest list deserves a raise 😭
→ f1updates: they knew exactly what they were doing
→ lanmeliehub: elite booking honestly
--------------
The private suite overlooking Estadio Azteca buzzed with the unmistakable energy that only a World Cup knockout match could create. Through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, the pitch glowed beneath the floodlights while nearly ninety thousand supporters slowly filled the stands, creating a sea of green and white broken only occasionally by clusters of red-clad England supporters. Chants rolled through the stadium in waves, vibrating faintly beneath their feet even from several levels above the pitch.
Inside the suite, however, the atmosphere was considerably more relaxed.
A buffet stretched across one side of the room, untouched for the moment as conversations flowed between guests, laughter bounced off the glass walls, and televisions mounted in the corners counted down toward kickoff. Every few seconds another familiar face wandered in, exchanging greetings before gravitating toward the panoramic view overlooking one of football's most iconic stadiums.
Lando stood beside the glass with one hand tucked into his pocket, his England jersey fitting comfortably beneath a lightweight jacket draped over his shoulders. Max was explaining—with complete confidence and very little evidence—exactly why England's midfield would dominate possession, while Pietra interrupted every third sentence simply to disagree on principle. Amelie leaned against the edge of a high cocktail table nearby, laughing more at the way the two of them argued than at the football discussion itself.
—You've never watched a tactical analysis in your life,— Max accused.
—I don't need to,— Pietra answered proudly. —I have instincts.—
—Your instincts are wrong.—
—They're Latin American.—
—That's not the same thing.—
Amelie covered her mouth to hide another laugh.
Before she could add her own opinion, two familiar arms suddenly wrapped themselves around her shoulders from behind.
She barely had time to react before she was being gently rocked from side to side with uncontainable enthusiasm.
Amelie let out a surprised laugh, instinctively grabbing onto the forearms wrapped around her shoulders as whoever had ambushed her continued swaying her dramatically from side to side. The hug was impossibly familiar—far too energetic to belong to anyone in the suite, accompanied by a squeal that sounded as though Christmas morning, a Grammy win, and the World Cup final had all happened simultaneously.
—I knew it! I knew you'd already be here!— an excited voice practically sang into her ear.
Amelie laughed harder before twisting around inside the embrace.
—Minnie!—
The two girls immediately threw themselves into a proper hug, laughing as though they hadn't seen each other in years instead of barely a few weeks. Minnie looked impossibly excited, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet in Mexico's green national team jersey tucked into relaxed jeans, her dark hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders. Standing directly behind her, hands shoved comfortably into the pockets of his jeans, Alex watched the reunion unfold with the fond, thoroughly unsurprised smile of someone who had witnessed this exact greeting dozens of times before.
He opened one arm dramatically.
—You gonna pretend I'm not here?—
Amelie's eyes immediately widened.
—Alex!—
She abandoned Minnie just as quickly, wrapping both arms around her childhood best friend while he laughed warmly, squeezing her tightly off the ground for a brief second before setting her back down.
—I haven't even been in the room thirty seconds,— he teased, —and you've already replaced me.—
—I replaced you years ago,— Minnie answered without missing a beat.
—Rude.—
—Accurate.—
The exchange earned another round of laughter from Amelie.
Lando wandered over with an amused smile spreading across his face, extending a hand toward Alex before immediately abandoning the formal greeting altogether and pulling him into a quick hug instead.
—Good to see you, mate.—
—You too,— Alex replied easily. —How's married life?—
Lando raised an eyebrow.
—Bit early for that.—
Alex looked at Amelie.
—Emotionally married then.—
Amelie rolled her eyes so dramatically it made everyone laugh.
Max stepped forward next, greeting both Minnie and Alex before Pietra joined them, instantly complimenting the Mexico jerseys with exaggerated approval.
—Finally,— Pietra declared proudly. —People making sensible decisions.—
Lando looked horrified.
—I am literally surrounded.—
—You brought an England shirt to Mexico,— Minnie pointed out. —That's on you.—
—I thought loyalty meant something.—
Alex shrugged.
—Wrong continent, mate.—
The conversation dissolved effortlessly into overlapping laughter.
For several minutes they stood together overlooking the pitch, catching up on recent weeks while occasionally glancing through the enormous windows as players began warming up below. The suite continued filling with guests, conversations blending together beneath the growing roar echoing through Estadio Azteca.
Then a polite voice interrupted them.
—Miss Dayman?—
Amelie turned.
One of FIFA's event coordinators stood a respectful distance away, dressed in an official navy blazer with a laminated accreditation hanging neatly from her neck.
—Sorry to interrupt,— the woman said with an apologetic smile. —We're just about ready downstairs. If you're ready, we'll need to head toward the players' tunnel in the next couple of minutes.—
Amelie nodded immediately.
—Of course.—
The coordinator smiled.
—You're also welcome to bring one guest with you if you'd like. They'll accompany you through the access route before returning to the suite after the ceremony.—
—Perfect. Thank you so much.—
Amelie thanked the coordinator one last time before she disappeared back toward the suite entrance to continue organizing the pre-match ceremony. The moment the woman walked away, four pairs of eyes immediately settled on Amelie with identical curiosity.
Lando was the first to speak.
—Want me to come with you?— he asked almost instinctively, already taking a small step closer. —Might as well keep you company before they throw you in front of ninety thousand people.—
His tone was light, accompanied by an easy smile, as though he assumed the answer was already obvious. Normally, it would've been. They had developed an almost unconscious habit over the years of choosing each other whenever those little moments arose. Whether it was walking into award shows, waiting backstage before performances, or standing together before some enormous public event, they gravitated toward one another without ever needing to discuss it.
Amelie smiled warmly at him.
—It's okay,— she answered gently. —Alex's coming with me.—
Lando's smile didn't disappear immediately.
It lingered for the briefest second, almost as though his brain needed an extra moment to process what she'd just said. Then it softened into something smaller, accompanied by a nearly imperceptible nod.
—Oh... okay,— he replied easily.
The silence that followed was microscopic.
Barely even a second.
Yet somehow, everyone in the group felt it.
Max's eyebrows lifted slightly. Pietra blinked once, looking between Amelie and Alex as though she was waiting for someone to explain a joke she had somehow missed. Minnie looked equally confused, her eyes moving from her best friend to Lando and then back again. Even Alex, who had only been in the room for a handful of minutes, immediately noticed the collective reaction.
Amelie, however, seemed completely unfazed.
She simply smiled at Lando as though she hadn't just casually chosen someone else to accompany her into the middle of Estadio Azteca instead of her boyfriend.
—I'll save you a seat,— Lando said, recovering quickly and offering her a small smile.
Amelie nodded, giving him a soft smile before stepping closer as Lando leaned down to kiss her. It was the kind of kiss that had become second nature between them, familiar and effortless, the quiet reassurance they exchanged even in crowded rooms full of people watching. His hand rested briefly against her waist while his lips met hers gently, and for a moment she almost forgot about the elevator waiting downstairs, the ceremony, and the thousands of people outside.
Except this time was different.
Normally, Amelie was the one who deepened the kiss.
Normally, she would be the one smiling against his lips, refusing to let go first, teasing him for trying to pull away too soon. Lando had joked about it countless times, claiming that saying goodbye to her required at least three separate attempts because she always found a reason to steal "one more kiss."
This time, however, Amelie pulled away first.
It was subtle.
So subtle that anyone else might not have noticed.
But Lando did.
His eyebrows lifted slightly as she stepped back, her fingers brushing his arm affectionately before she turned away. It wasn't rejection—not even remotely. Her smile was still there, her eyes still soft, and there was nothing cold about the gesture. Yet for someone who knew every tiny habit she possessed, the change immediately stood out.
—I'll see you in a bit,— she whispered.
Lando nodded, still smiling.
—Yeah. See you soon.—
Before he could say anything else, Amelie reached for Alex's arm.
—Come on, Alex. You're my escort now.—
Alex looked between her and Lando with a confused expression but allowed himself to be dragged away, following her toward the exit doors of the suite. Minnie watched them leave, still wearing the same puzzled look everyone else had, while Pietra slowly turned toward Lando.
—Okay...—
Lando looked at her.
—What?—
She pointed subtly toward the hallway where Amelie and Alex had disappeared.
—Nothing. Just... interesting choice.—
Lando let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.
—Don't start.—
Max immediately raised both hands.
—I'm not saying anything.—
The fact that he said it while very obviously wanting to say something made everyone laugh.
Meanwhile, Amelie and Alex walked through the private corridor leading toward the elevators, the noise of Estadio Azteca growing louder with every step. Staff members moved quickly around them, checking credentials, communicating through headsets, and preparing the final details before the opening ceremony. Yet despite the chaos surrounding them, there was a strange silence between the two childhood friends.
Alex waited until the elevator doors closed.
The moment they were alone inside the mirrored space, he turned toward her.
—What the hell was that?—
Amelie looked at him through the reflection of the elevator doors, completely expressionless.
—What was what?—
Alex stared.
For a moment, he genuinely considered whether she was being serious or simply choosing the most annoying possible answer because she knew exactly what he meant. After knowing her since they were kids, he had learned that Amelie possessed a very specific talent for pretending not to understand situations whenever the truth was inconvenient.
—Don't do that,— he said, pointing at her with a small laugh of disbelief. —Don't give me the "I have no idea what you're talking about" thing. You've been doing that since you were twelve and your mom asked who broke the vase.—
Amelie pressed her lips together, fighting the smile threatening to appear.
—I still don't know what you're talking about.—
Alex let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head.
—You're unbelievable.—
The elevator continued descending, the numbers above the door slowly changing as they moved closer toward the field level. Through the glass walls at the end of the corridor, flashes of green shirts and waving flags moved through the stadium, the anticipation of kickoff becoming louder with every passing second.
Alex crossed his arms.
—Look, I'm flattered. Truly. I mean, obviously I'm an incredible escort choice. Fantastic personality, great hair, very charming. The obvious option.—
That finally earned a small laugh from her.
—You are very humble.—
—Extremely.—
He paused, then his expression softened.
—But you and I both know you would've picked Lando any other day.—
Amelie continued looking straight at the polished metallic elevator doors, raising one hand to carefully fix her hair and tuck a loose strand behind her ear, acting entirely casual as if she were not about to absolutely drop a massive bomb on her childhood best friend. She smoothed out the front of her green Mexican national team jersey, keeping her expression perfectly blank while the elevator continued its smooth descent toward the stadium's lower levels.
—I caught Lando looking at engagement rings on his laptop,— she told him shortly, her voice completely calm and even, though the sheer weight of the words immediately shattered the quiet atmosphere inside the mirrored enclosure.
Right on time, the elevator doors slid open with a soft electronic chime, revealing a brightly lit security corridor where several FIFA coordinators were waiting for them. Amelie exited the elevator immediately with a small, confident smirk playing on her lips, leaving a thoroughly shocked and completely frozen Alex standing entirely alone inside the car as his brain struggled to process the information.
It took several long seconds before Alex finally woke up from the shock, his eyes widening to the size of saucers as he bolted out of the elevator to catch up with her fast pace. He sprinted down the concrete hallway, quickly navigating past a group of stadium staff, until he reached out and firmly grabbed Amelie by the shoulders to force her to stop walking and look at him.
Amelie stopped mid-step, slightly startled by the sudden movement, turning around to find Alex standing in front of her with an expression that looked like he had just been told the entire World Cup had been cancelled. His hands remained gently placed on her shoulders, not because he was trying to stop her from leaving, but because he genuinely needed physical confirmation that this conversation was actually happening.
—Wait,— he said, blinking rapidly. —Wait, wait, wait. Go back.—
Amelie stared at him.
—Alex.—
—No, because I need to understand the sentence you just casually dropped in an elevator like you were telling me the weather.— He shook his head in disbelief. —You caught Lando looking at engagement rings?—
She nodded slowly.
—Yes.—
The simplicity of her answer somehow made it worse.
Alex released her shoulders and dragged both hands down his face, letting out a quiet laugh that sounded equal parts shocked and overwhelmed.
—Amelie, you cannot just say something like that and then walk away.—
She smiled slightly.
—I kind of just did.—
—Exactly! That's the problem!—
The FIFA staff walking past them gave them curious looks, but neither of them paid attention. The noise of the stadium surrounding them was growing louder, but for a few seconds, the chaos of the World Cup disappeared entirely. There was only Alex trying to process the fact that his best friend might be on the edge of getting engaged.
He looked at her carefully.
—How did you find out?—
Amelie hesitated.
That hesitation alone told him there was a story.
—I borrowed his laptop.—
Alex narrowed his eyes.
—Borrowed?—
—I wanted to watch something while he was showering.—
—And?—
—And his browser was open.—
Alex immediately pointed at her.
—You didn't snoop?—
She looked offended.
—No!—
A pause.
—Okay, maybe I looked for like... three seconds.—
Alex laughed.
—Amelie.—
—I wasn't trying to! It was just there! I opened it and suddenly there were engagement rings everywhere.—
She shook her head, still slightly in disbelief herself.
—Like, not even subtle things. Actual rings. Different cuts. Different stores. He had clearly been looking at options.—
Alex's expression softened.
Because beneath the surprise, beneath the jokes, he understood exactly why this had shaken her.
This was Lando.
This was Amelie.
This wasn't some random celebrity relationship moment that existed only through cameras and headlines. He had known them separately before they had even become this version of themselves. He knew how much they had grown, how much they had changed, and how rare it was for Amelie to let someone truly become her person.
—Are you scared?— he asked quietly.
The question caught her slightly off guard.
Amelie looked away toward the corridor where staff members continued moving around them, carrying equipment and preparing for the ceremony. For the first time since she had stepped out of the elevator, the teasing expression disappeared.
—Scared?—
Alex nodded.
—Yeah. Like... actually scared.—
She didn't answer immediately.
Her fingers brushed over the edge of the Mexico jersey she was wearing, a small nervous habit he had known since they were teenagers. Whenever Amelie was trying to figure out what she actually felt instead of what she was supposed to feel, she always did something with her hands.
—No,— she finally admitted.
—Or... well, maybe I was at first,— Amelie corrected herself, letting out a small breathy laugh as she leaned back against the wall beside the corridor. —When I first saw it, I literally forgot how to breathe for like five seconds. I think my brain just stopped working because it was so unexpected.—
Alex watched her carefully, waiting for the rest.
—But now?— he asked.
Amelie looked down at the floor for a moment before smiling faintly.
—Now I'm just freaking out.—
The honesty in her voice made Alex's expression soften immediately. This wasn't panic. It wasn't fear of Lando. It wasn't doubt about him. It was something much more complicated, something that had been sitting quietly inside her for longer than she probably wanted to admit.
They started walking again when one of the coordinators signaled that they needed to continue toward the waiting area, but Alex stayed close beside her, clearly not willing to let the conversation end there. They eventually reached a quieter section near the tunnel entrance where several rows of stadium stairs sat empty, the roar of Estadio Azteca echoing around them while they waited for the official call to bring Amelie onto the field.
Instead of standing, they both sat down on the concrete steps.
For a moment, they simply watched the stadium below.
Thousands of fans waved flags, Mexico chants rolling through the air like waves. The green jerseys surrounding them created a breathtaking sea of color, and somewhere in the distance, England supporters responded with their own chants. It was loud, overwhelming, and completely surreal.
Yet somehow, the conversation between them remained quiet.
Alex rested his forearms against his knees.
—You know, when you said "freaking out," I knew exactly what you meant.—
Amelie looked at him.
—Did you?—
He nodded.
—Yeah. Because I know you.—
She smiled softly.
—Unfortunately.—
—Very unfortunately.—
She laughed quietly.
Alex bumped his shoulder against hers.
—But seriously. I think people who don't know you would probably assume you're scared because you don't want it.—
Amelie's expression immediately changed.
—No.—
The answer came so quickly that Alex didn't even need anything else.
He nodded.
—I know. That's what I figured.—
Amelie looked back toward the pitch.
The floodlights reflected against the grass, making the field look almost unreal from where they were sitting. For a few seconds, she simply watched the movement below before finally speaking.
—Since New Year's, we've talked about it.—
Alex turned slightly toward her.
—Marriage?—
She nodded.
—Not like... planning anything. Not like "when are we getting engaged?" or anything like that. Just... talking about the life we want.—
Her fingers twisted together in her lap.
—We talked about having a house somewhere that actually feels like home. We talked about kids one day. About Charlie growing up with a garden. About waking up somewhere together without having to immediately check flights or calendars.—
A small smile appeared on her face.
—We talked about wanting the same things.—
Alex smiled.
—That sounds pretty serious.—
—I know.—
Her smile faded slightly.
—And that's the thing that makes me feel ridiculous.—
Alex frowned.
—Why?—
Amelie shrugged.
Because it was easier than admitting the truth.
—Because I do want that life.— She looked down at her hands. —I really do.—
Her voice became quieter.
—I've never been someone who thought marriage was impossible or something I didn't want. I always imagined it. I always wanted the whole thing. The stupid house, the annoying dog, the person who knows everything about me, the person I come home to.—
She laughed softly.
—I'm actually embarrassingly romantic when you think about it.—
Alex smiled.
—I've known you since you were thirteen. I know.—
She rolled her eyes.
—Thanks.—
—You're welcome.—
The smile disappeared again, replaced by something much more vulnerable.
—I just never really thought someone would want that life with me.—
Alex's expression immediately softened.
Amelie swallowed.
—And I know how stupid that sounds because it's Lando. I know how much he loves me. I know what we have. But sometimes I still have this weird feeling that I'm too much.—
She looked toward the field.
—I've always been a mess, Alex.—
The words came quietly.
—My life has always been chaotic. My career is chaotic. My schedule is chaotic. Half the time I don't even know what country I'm waking up in. I'm emotional, I'm stubborn, I overthink everything, I disappear into work, I forget where I leave my phone...—
She smiled slightly.
—I'm not exactly the easiest person to build a normal life with.—
Alex stared at her for a moment before shaking his head.
—Amelie.— She looked over. —Do you actually hear yourself?—
She frowned slightly.
—What?—
He smiled sadly.
—You're describing the person Lando fell in love with like it's some kind of problem.—
She didn't answer.
Alex continued.
—You think he doesn't know you're chaotic? He literally travels around the world with you. He knows exactly what your life looks like. He knows the crazy schedules, the cameras, the pressure, all of it.— He shrugged. —And he still chooses you every single day.—
That made her look away.
Because she knew he was right.
—You know what I think?— Alex continued.
Amelie looked back.
—I think you spent so much of your life being told you're lucky people stayed that you forgot you're also someone worth staying for.—
The words hit harder than she expected.
Her eyes softened.
Alex smiled gently.
—You and Lando are actually ridiculous because you're both constantly worried the other person is too good for you, when everyone watching from the outside is just thinking, "yeah, that makes complete sense."—
Amelie laughed quietly through her nose.
—That's annoyingly accurate.—
—I know.—
He leaned back against the step.
—You two deserve each other. And I don't mean that in some cheesy movie way.—
He looked at her seriously.
—I mean you found someone who understands the parts of you that most people only see from a distance. And he found someone who loves him beyond the racing, beyond the trophies, beyond all the things everyone else cares about.—
Amelie stayed silent.
Because that was exactly it.
Lando had never loved the version of her that appeared on magazine covers.
He loved the girl who stole his hoodies.
The girl who cried during sad movies and pretended she wasn't crying.
The girl who forgot where she put her keys five minutes after holding them.
The girl who danced around the kitchen with Charlie while making coffee.
He loved all the messy parts.
—I'm happy,— she finally whispered.
Alex smiled.
—I know.—
She looked at him.
—That's the scary part.—
He laughed softly.
—Of course it is.—
She smiled.
—Because it's real.—
Before Alex could answer, a FIFA coordinator appeared at the end of the corridor.
—Amelie? We're ready for you now.—
She stood up slowly, smoothing the front of her Mexico jersey and taking one final look toward the stadium.
The noise was deafening.
The lights were brighter.
The moment was approaching.
But somehow, the thing occupying her mind wasn't the ninety thousand people waiting outside.
It wasn't the cameras.
It wasn't the World Cup.
It was the fact that somewhere upstairs, Lando Norris was probably completely unaware that she had just spent ten minutes talking about a future he had apparently already started imagining too.
Alex stood beside her.
—You good?—
Amelie took a breath.
Then smiled.
—Yeah.— And this time, she meant it. —I'm really good.—
Together, they walked toward the tunnel entrance, the roar of Estadio Azteca growing louder with every step, while somewhere above them Lando waited in his England jersey, completely unaware that the biggest secret of his life had already become the most beautiful surprise of hers.
--------------
liked by lando, papayagirl, and others
amelieupdates: Amelie bringing out the match ball ahead of Mexico vs England at the Estadio Azteca tonight!!!
View all 535 comments
amesnation: FROM COACHELLA TO THE ESTADIO AZTECA???? 😭😭😭
→ amelieupdates: her range is actually ridiculous
→ papayagirl: no one is doing it like her
mexicofan: AMELIE BRINGING OUT THE BALL IN MEXICO CITY 😭🇲🇽❤️
→ vamosmexico: orgulloooo
→ amesdefender: she looked so happy 🥹
papayaprincess: she really went from singing on stages to walking onto the pitch with the World Cup ball 😭
→ orange4ever: the crossover we deserved
f1updates: imagine telling 2018 Amelie fans this would happen 😭
→ ameliecentral: they would not believe you
lanmeliehub: LANDO WATCHING HIS GIRL REPRESENT MEXICO AT THE AZTECA 🥹
→ papayagirl: he's definitely smiling somewhere
→ orangeobsession: proud boyfriend moment
mexicofan88: THE WAY THE WHOLE STADIUM CHEERED 😭🇲🇽
→ vamosmexico: she belongs there
→ amesdefender: hearing that crowd must've been insane
f1gossipdaily: Amelie Dayman is officially collecting sports achievements now 😭
→ gridgirlie: what's next??
amelieupdates: THE LITTLE SMILE WHEN SHE WALKED OUT 🥹
→ amesnation: she looked genuinely emotional
→ orange4ever: such a special moment
papayagirl: not me crying over someone holding a football 😭
→ lan4ever: same actually
→ gridgirlie: sports moments hit different
mexicofan: MI REINA 🇲🇽❤️
footballfan22: okay but this is actually such a cool guest choice
→ f1updates: global star, Mexican representative, huge sports fan
→ papayahq: perfect fit honestly
orangeobsession: LANDO AND AMELIE BOTH REPRESENTING THEIR COUNTRIES TODAY 🥹
→ lanmeliehub: the cutest rivalry ever
gridgirlie: she looked more nervous holding that ball than performing in front of thousands 😭
→ amesnation: because this was personal
→ mexicofan88: representing your country hits different
papayagirl: LANDO LIKED I'M DONE 😭
→ lan4ever: HE'S SO PROUD
→ orange4ever: everyone go home
jackinnanen: from music videos to football pitches, somehow this makes sense
→ ameliedayman: i ask myself the same thing daily
amesnation: SHE DID THAT IN FRONT OF THE AZTECA. THE AZTECA. 😭
→ mexicofan: unforgettable moment
→ papayaprincess: what a way to start the match
f1fangirl99: this week has been unreal for LanMelie content 😭
→ lanmeliehub: Silverstone ➡️ Wimbledon ➡️ World Cup
→ orangegrid: we're spoiled
vamosmexico: AMELIE ONE OF US 🇲🇽❤️
→ amesdefender: the comments passing the vibe check
→ papayagirl: everyone loves her tonight 🥹
mexicofootball: AMELIE DAYMAN AT THE AZTECA IS SOMETHING I NEVER KNEW I NEEDED 😭🇲🇽
→ vamosmexico: THE CROWD LOVED HER
→ amesnation: she looked so proud 🥹
papayagirl: THE FACT THAT SHE WAS HOLDING THE WORLD CUP BALL LIKE IT WAS A GRAMMY 😭
→ orange4ever: girl has collected every possible achievement
amesdefender: no because seeing her walk onto THAT pitch in Mexico with the whole stadium watching 🥹
→ ameliecentral: such a full circle moment
→ mexicofan: she represented perfectly ❤️
footballgirlie: not to be dramatic but this is the coolest thing ever 😭
→ papayaprincess: you're not dramatic, you're correct
landostandhq: somewhere Lando is probably saying "that's my girlfriend" every five seconds 😭
→ orangeobsession: proud boyfriend energy
→ lanmeliehub: he definitely took 100 photos
f1gossipdaily: Lando brought the F1 world, Amelie brought the music world, now they're taking over football too 😭
→ papayagirl: unstoppable duo
mexicofan88: THE CHEERS WHEN SHE WALKED OUT 🥹🇲🇽
→ vamosmexico: goosebumps
→ amesnation: she was smiling so big
gridgirlie: remember when people thought she would only be known as "Lando's girlfriend" 😭
→ amesdefender: meanwhile she's out here doing THIS
ameliecentral: she looked nervous for half a second and then smiled like she owned the stadium 😭
→ amesupdates: performer instincts kicked in
→ f1updates: born for big moments
papayaprincess: imagine telling someone "yeah the pop star girlfriend of an F1 driver will open Mexico vs England" 😭
→ orangegrid: they'd call you delusional
--------------
The final whistle had echoed around Estadio Azteca nearly an hour earlier, confirming England's dramatic 3–2 victory over Mexico and bringing the hosts' World Cup journey to a heartbreaking end. Since then, the stadium had slowly begun emptying, though the energy lingering in the air remained impossible to ignore. Some corridors still echoed with disappointed Mexican chants, while others carried jubilant English songs that refused to fade despite the passing time. It had been one of those matches destined to be replayed for years, full of impossible saves, late drama, and enough emotion to leave every supporter mentally exhausted.
The FIFA suite, which had buzzed with excitement before kickoff, now carried the unmistakable atmosphere that followed every major sporting event. Empty champagne flutes, abandoned dessert plates, and scattered match programmes covered the cocktail tables while guests slowly filtered toward the exits, replaying every controversial decision and spectacular goal from memory. Conversations overlapped in several different languages, each one somehow louder than the last as everyone attempted to convince everyone else that their version of the match was the correct one.
Lando stood patiently beside the suite entrance, one hand tucked into the pocket of his black jacket while the other remained firmly intertwined with Amelie's. The England jersey beneath his jacket was slightly wrinkled after ninety exhausting minutes spent alternately standing, shouting, and celebrating with Max. His voice had nearly disappeared entirely from singing "Wonderwall" with several former England players during the closing stages of the evening, yet despite England advancing to the next round, his attention remained fixed almost exclusively on the woman standing beside him.
Amelie looked surprisingly cheerful for someone whose national team had just been eliminated from a home World Cup.
There was, admittedly, a perfectly reasonable explanation for that.
Over the course of the evening, several sympathetic FIFA guests had insisted on buying her drinks after discovering she would be bringing the official match ball onto the pitch only to watch Mexico fall in heartbreaking fashion less than two hours later. She hadn't intended to drink quite that much, but every "I'm so sorry about the result" had somehow been followed by another glass of champagne or tequila. By the time guests began saying their goodbyes, she wasn't remotely drunk—far from it—but she was unmistakably tipsy, her cheeks carrying a rosy flush that had very little to do with the altitude of Mexico City.
Lando had noticed almost immediately.
Not because she was louder than usual or particularly unsteady on her feet, but because she had become impossibly affectionate. She'd barely let go of his hand for the better part of the last forty minutes, absentmindedly tracing circles over his knuckles while conversations happened around them. Every chance she got, she leaned against him, rested her head on his shoulder, or slipped an arm around his waist without saying a word. None of it felt performative. If anything, it felt instinctive, as though somewhere in her champagne-softened brain she'd decided physical contact with him was currently the most comfortable place in the world.
He certainly wasn't complaining.
As the last members of their group gathered near the suite entrance, security quietly informed them it was time to leave before the surrounding corridors became even more crowded. The stadium was still overflowing with supporters attempting to exit, and moving their group through the VIP areas would only become more complicated if they waited much longer.
—Right,— Max announced, clapping his hands together dramatically. —Let's escape before someone starts another tactical debate in the hallway.—
—Or before England fans adopt you into another rendition of Wonderwall,— Pietra added with a grin, nudging Lando.
—I regret nothing,— Lando replied proudly.
—Your voice regrets everything,— Minnie laughed.
The group filtered into the corridor together, immediately surrounded by security personnel guiding them toward the private elevators. Even within the restricted VIP sections, the stadium remained remarkably busy. Players' families, FIFA executives, celebrities, former footballers, and various staff members all moved through the same maze of hallways, creating a constant stream of conversations and movement that echoed beneath the concrete ceilings.
Almost instinctively, Amelie reached for Lando's hand again.
Not simply holding it.
She threaded every finger between his before tightening her grip, walking so close beside him that their shoulders brushed with nearly every step.
Lando glanced sideways.
—You alright?— he asked quietly.
She nodded without opening her eyes, offering his hand another gentle squeeze.
—Mhm.—
Her answer was accompanied by the tiniest smile.
He smiled back.
Somewhere ahead, Alex noticed the interaction and couldn't stop himself from smiling to his own reflection in one of the polished glass walls lining the corridor. The conversation they'd shared beneath the stadium barely two hours earlier replayed quietly in his mind. Watching Amelie absentmindedly cling to Lando now, looking so effortlessly comfortable beside him, only reinforced everything he'd told her.
They really did belong together.
By the time they reached the private elevator, several more groups had gathered nearby waiting for transport between levels. The confined space became noticeably crowded once the doors opened, forcing everyone closer together than they ordinarily would've been.
Amelie responded by stepping even nearer to Lando.
Her free hand found the sleeve of his jacket, fingers curling gently around the fabric while her shoulder rested lightly against his arm throughout the short ride down. She remained almost completely silent, occasionally glancing up at him with sleepy eyes before smiling for absolutely no reason at all.
Lando looked down at her.
—You're very clingy tonight,— he observed softly.
Amelie looked up at him through slightly sleepy eyes, the corners of her mouth lifting into the smallest, most content smile imaginable.
—I know,— she admitted without the slightest embarrassment.
There wasn't even an attempt to deny it.
Instead, she simply tightened her fingers around his hand again before resting her head briefly against his shoulder as the elevator continued its descent. The champagne had softened every instinct she usually had to overthink things, leaving behind only the simple certainty that she wanted to be as close to him as physically possible.
Lando chuckled quietly beneath his breath.
—Not complaining,— he whispered.
—Good.—
She looked up again, studying his face for a second before absentmindedly smoothing the collar of his jacket with her free hand, apparently deciding it wasn't sitting quite right. Once satisfied, she gave his chest a gentle pat as though completing a very important task.
—There,— she murmured.
Lando laughed.
—What exactly did you fix?—
—I don't know.— She shrugged. —Something.—
The elevator doors slid open onto the underground VIP level, immediately replacing the quieter atmosphere with organized chaos. Security officers directed guests toward different exits while production staff hurried in every direction carrying equipment. Beyond the secured barriers, distant cheers still echoed from supporters lingering outside the stadium, refusing to let the night end just yet.
The group followed security through the concrete corridors toward the private vehicle entrance.
The closer they came to the exit, the louder everything became.
England supporters were still singing somewhere nearby, while disappointed—but remarkably spirited—Mexican fans answered with chants of their own. Rather than bitterness, the atmosphere had settled into something strangely celebratory. It felt less like one nation mourning defeat and more like an entire city unwilling to let the biggest sporting event it had ever hosted end quietly.
Waiting beneath the covered pickup area sat the familiar convoy of black SUVs.
The lead security officer opened the rear passenger door of the first vehicle before stepping aside, allowing the group to climb inside one by one.
Max and Pietra settled into the back row first, immediately continuing the debate they'd somehow managed to carry uninterrupted from the suite.
—I still think the referee missed that foul,— Pietra insisted.
—Because you're biased.—
—Because I have functioning eyesight.—
Minnie laughed before climbing into the middle row beside Alex, leaving the remaining seat for Lando and Amelie.
Lando climbed into the SUV first, sliding across the leather bench before immediately turning back toward the open door. He didn't even have to offer his hand. Amelie reached for it automatically, intertwining their fingers as she carefully stepped into the vehicle before settling beside him with an exhausted sigh that sounded as though the emotional roller coaster of the evening had finally caught up with her. The moment the door shut behind them, sealing out much of the stadium noise, she instinctively leaned sideways until nearly her entire body rested against his.
Within seconds she had practically folded herself into him.
Her legs angled toward his, one arm slipping lazily around his waist while her cheek disappeared into the crook of his neck. Her eyes drifted shut almost immediately, and she breathed out a long, content sigh, as though she'd finally found the only comfortable position in the entire city. Lando smiled to himself, wrapping one arm securely around her shoulders without interrupting whatever peaceful little world she'd disappeared into.
Nobody said anything.
Not because the silence was uncomfortable, but because it wasn't.
The car filled with the pleasant quiet that often followed long days spent together, everyone mentally replaying the match while Mexico City's traffic slowly carried them away from Estadio Azteca. Max stared absentmindedly out the window at the endless streams of supporters walking through the streets in jerseys and waving flags. Pietra scrolled through photographs she'd already been tagged in from inside the stadium. Minnie rested her head against the window while Alex quietly answered a message from one of his brothers.
Meanwhile, Amelie hadn't moved an inch.
Her face remained buried comfortably against Lando's neck, one of her hands absentmindedly clutching the fabric of his England jersey beneath his jacket. Every now and then she would lazily rub her thumb against his side without even realizing she was doing it, her movements slowed by the champagne still lingering warmly in her system. Lando occasionally brushed his fingers through the ends of her hair, smiling every time she instinctively leaned even closer in response.
For several more minutes, she remained perfectly still, curled comfortably against him while the SUV crawled through the maze of service roads surrounding Estadio Azteca. The rhythmic vibration of the engine, combined with the warmth radiating from Lando's body, had almost lulled her into falling asleep. She could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek and occasionally felt him press the gentlest kiss against the top of her head, absentminded gestures that somehow made her melt even further into his side. Every so often she'd smile without opening her eyes, tightening her arm around his waist just enough for him to notice.
Lando, meanwhile, couldn't stop smiling to himself.
He had absolutely no idea what had gotten into her tonight, but if this was the result of two glasses of champagne, a few celebratory tequilas, and an emotional football match, he certainly wasn't going to question it. Ever since they'd left the suite, she hadn't voluntarily created more than a few centimeters of space between them, and every tiny display of affection had been so instinctive that it felt even more meaningful than her usual confidence. It wasn't grand or dramatic. It was simply Amelie deciding, over and over again, that being close to him was exactly where she wanted to be.
The comfortable silence inside the vehicle stretched on until, completely without warning, Amelie suddenly sat bolt upright.
The abrupt movement startled nearly everyone inside the SUV.
Her eyes flew open with a level of excitement that hadn't existed even thirty seconds earlier, and she turned so quickly toward the rest of the group that Lando instinctively reached out to steady her before she accidentally headbutted the roof of the car.
—I have an idea!— she announced brightly.
Every head inside the SUV turned toward her at exactly the same time.
Lando's arm remained wrapped securely around her waist, partly because he liked having her there and partly because he was fairly certain the sudden burst of enthusiasm, combined with the amount of champagne she'd consumed, might send her tumbling into the center console if he wasn't careful. He looked at her with an amused smile, watching the excitement practically radiate from her face.
—Oh?— he asked, unable to hide the laugh already threatening to escape. —Should I be worried?—
Amelie gasped dramatically, placing one hand against her chest as though he'd deeply offended her.
—Very rude,— she declared. —You should be excited. This is an excellent idea.—
Max looked over the back of his seat.
—Those are usually the famous last words before someone gets arrested.—
—I have never been arrested.—
—There's still time tonight,— Pietra answered, grinning.
Amelie ignored them completely.
She clapped her hands together once, her smile somehow growing even brighter before looking around the vehicle like she was about to unveil the greatest plan in recorded history.
—We should go to the Ángel de la Independencia!—
Silence.
Alex blinked.
—The... Angel?—
—Yes!— she nodded enthusiastically. —Everyone celebrates there after football matches. England won, Mexico hosted an incredible match, everybody's going to be there. It'll be so much fun!—
Minnie tilted her head.
—Amelie... the whole country knows what you look like.—
—Exactly,— Max agreed. —And Lando isn't exactly anonymous either.—
Amelie pointed triumphantly.
—I have a solution.—
Lando raised an eyebrow.
—Which is?—
She leaned forward, eyes sparkling with excitement.
—Kenia went after the last Mexico match wearing one of those lucha libre masks and nobody recognized her. She was literally walking around with everybody, taking videos, celebrating, dancing... nobody had a clue.—
She looked directly at Lando.
—We get two masks.—
He stared at her.
—Your plan... is to disguise ourselves as luchadores?—
She nodded so enthusiastically her ponytail bounced.
—Exactly!—
Lando couldn't help laughing.
—That's genuinely insane.—
—I know! Isn't it brilliant?—
Max buried his face in his hands.
—She's impossible when she's tipsy.—
—She's impossible when she's sober too,— Alex corrected. —The champagne has just made her believe every idea deserves immediate implementation.—
Lando looked at her for several long seconds, searching her face for even the smallest indication that she was joking.
There wasn't one.
If anything, she seemed even more convinced by her own idea the longer she talked about it, already gesturing animatedly with both hands as though the entire plan had somehow become logistically flawless in the space of thirty seconds. The faint flush across her cheeks, combined with the unmistakable sparkle in her eyes, told him exactly how much the champagne had contributed to this burst of confidence.
—I cannot believe I'm even considering this,— he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.
Amelie's entire face lit up.
—You're considering it!—
—I didn't say that.—
—You thought about it for at least half a second.— She pointed triumphantly. —That counts.—
Pietra laughed from the back row, leaning forward between the seats.
—I vote yes,— she declared. —When are we ever going to celebrate an England win in Mexico City again?—
—I mean... she's got a point. The atmosphere around Reforma tonight is probably unreal.—
Minnie nodded thoughtfully.
—And if they actually wear masks... there's a decent chance nobody notices them. People are going to be far more interested in celebrating than analyzing facial structures beneath lucha masks.—
Lando looked around the SUV, slowly realizing he was rapidly losing the vote.
He sighed theatrically.
—I hate all of you.—
Amelie immediately threw both arms around his neck.
—I knew you'd say yes!—
—I literally haven't.—
—Details.—
She kissed his cheek loudly before settling back against him, grinning so widely that nobody in the car had the heart to point out she'd completely ignored his actual answer.
--------------
liked by orangeobsession, lan4life, and others
lanmeliehub: Lando and Amelie were spotted leaving the Estadio Azteca together after tonight's Mexico vs England match, still side by side after 90 minutes of football rivalry.
View all 943 comments
papayagirl: THEY SURVIVED THE MATCH 😭👏
→ lan4ever: couples therapy canceled
→ orange4ever: the caption aged beautifully
gridgirlie: still walking out together... we all won 🥹
→ papayahq: football couldn't break them
→ lanmeliehub: true love passed the test
papayaprincess: i need to know what that car ride home was like 😭
→ orangegrid: complete silence or nonstop banter
f1gossipdaily: the way they're still smiling 😭
→ orangeobsession: nobody slept on the couch apparently
→ lan4life: relationship status: intact
amelieupdates: holding hands after spending 90 minutes supporting opposite teams 🥹
→ amesdefender: healthiest rivalry ever
footballfan22: okay but WHO WAS TALKING THE MOST WALKING OUT 😭
→ papayagirl: definitely Amelie
→ lan4ever: Lando was defending every England decision
lanmeliehub: imagine the debates they had during the match 😭
papayaprincess: "no couples therapy will be needed after today" AND THEY WERE RIGHT 😭
→ f1updates: they manifested it
→ orangegrid: iconic caption
orangeobsession: they're actually so cute i can't deal 🥹
→ papayahq: every event somehow becomes date night
→ lan4life: it's a talent
amesnation: they really spent the whole week going from Silverstone ➡️ Wimbledon ➡️ World Cup 😭
→ papayagirl: i need their energy levels
→ gridgirlie: meanwhile i need a nap after grocery shopping
f1detectives: okay but who's wearing whose jersey in the car home 🤨
→ detectiveera: asking the important questions
papayagirl: i KNOW one of them kept bringing up the score while leaving 😭
→ lan4ever: "just one more thing..."
→ papayahq: the argument never ended
f1updates: imagine the fans seeing them leave together 😭
→ orangeobsession: i'd forget where i parked
→ gridgirlie: same honestly
ameliecentral: they're so "us against the world"... except today it was "us against each other" 😭
→ amesdefender: temporary enemies
footballgirlie: they're making football look romantic somehow 😭
→ lanmeliehub: impossible challenge completed
→ orangegrid: only they could
papayahq: the fact that they spent the entire day proudly supporting different teams and still ended it hand in hand 🥹
→ f1updates: that's actually really sweet
gridgirlie: i just know they were teasing each other the entire walk out 😭
orangeobsession: can we all appreciate how much FUN they seem to have together?? 🥹
→ amesnation: that's my favorite thing about them
→ papayahq: they genuinely look like best friends
f1gossipdaily: okay... now post the selfies from inside the stadium 😭
→ papayaprincess: DON'T BE SHY
→ lanmeliehub: we know they took at least 200
papayagirl: survived Silverstone emotions, survived Wimbledon, survived England vs Mexico... these two are literally unstoppable 😭
→ orange4ever: strongest couple on the grid
mexicofan88: okay but seeing them leave together after cheering for opposite teams is actually adorable 😭❤️
→ vamosmexico: football rivalry lasts 90 minutes, love lasts longer 🥹
→ amesnation: STOP THAT'S CUTE
englandtillidie: Lando won on the pitch, Amelie won everyone's heart 😭
→ orange4ever: everyone left happy somehow
papayagirl: imagine the first thing they said when they got in the car 😭
→ gridgirlie: "so..."
→ lan4ever: "don't."
lanmeliehub: they're definitely arguing over ONE specific referee decision all the way home 😭
→ papayaprincess: no one is changing anyone's mind
footballgirlie: they're literally smiling in every exit photo 😭
→ f1updates: zero post-match tension detected
→ papayahq: couples therapy truly wasn't needed
amesdefender: if they don't post a selfie together after this i'm suing 😭
→ papayagirl: WITH THE JERSEYS STILL ON PLEASE
gridgirlie: i love that neither of them switched jerseys after the match 😭
→ lan4ever: loyal until the very end
→ orange4ever: as they should be
f1gossipdaily: okay but imagine being the driver listening to them debate football 😭
→ papayahq: "just keep driving..."
papayaprincess: the way they probably spent more time teasing each other than actually watching the game 😭
→ amesnation: absolutely no doubt
→ lanmeliehub: that's their love language
orangeobsession: the smiles are giving "we had the best night regardless of the result" 🥹
→ f1updates: exactly what date nights are supposed to be
--------------
The flow of people along Paseo de la Reforma seemed endless.
Thousands of supporters drifted beneath the illuminated skyline of Mexico City, weaving around food stalls, street performers, musicians, and spontaneous circles of strangers who had decided that one unforgettable World Cup night deserved to last until sunrise. Green Mexican jerseys mixed effortlessly with England's red shirts, flags waved from shoulders, chants erupted every few seconds before dissolving into laughter, and somewhere in the distance someone had managed to start an entire brass band in the middle of the avenue.
The Ángel de la Independencia towered above everything, glowing gold against the dark summer sky.
Amelie couldn't stop smiling.
Her hot pink lucha libre mask hid most of her face, but nothing could disguise the happiness radiating from her eyes. Every few steps she looked around like someone determined to memorize absolutely everything—the children sitting on their parents' shoulders waving tiny flags, elderly couples dancing together to music pouring from portable speakers, complete strangers hugging after discovering they supported opposing teams but had shared beers anyway.
There was something undeniably beautiful about it.
Lando walked beside her with one hand comfortably intertwined with hers, his black-and-silver lucha libre mask sitting surprisingly securely despite the amount of laughing he'd done over the last half hour. Every now and then someone bumped gently into his shoulder as the crowd shifted around them, but the avenue never felt aggressive or overwhelming. Instead, it carried the loose, collective rhythm of thousands of people simply enjoying the same evening together. Behind them, one member of their security detail followed at a respectful distance, close enough to intervene if necessary but discreet enough that most people probably assumed he was simply another friend walking with the group.
Ahead of them, Max had somehow convinced Alex that he could accurately predict the next England starting eleven for the quarterfinal simply by "reading body language," a statement that had immediately prompted Minnie and Pietra to spend the last five minutes making increasingly ridiculous faces and asking him to interpret those instead. Every prediction somehow became more absurd than the last, until Alex was laughing so hard he had to stop walking altogether while Pietra dramatically informed Max that, according to his own logic, she was apparently destined to become FIFA president before breakfast.
Amelie listened to the conversation without really listening to it.
The words floated around her like background music, blending naturally with the chants echoing from every direction and the occasional burst of laughter from groups of strangers celebrating nearby. It all felt wonderfully alive. Warm night air brushed gently against the exposed skin of her legs while the scent of grilled street food, fireworks, and summer drifted lazily through Reforma. Somewhere behind them someone began singing "Sweet Caroline," only for a group of Mexican supporters to answer with "Cielito Lindo," and instead of competing, the songs somehow coexisted, creating a soundtrack so wonderfully chaotic that she wished she could bottle the moment forever.
She found herself squeezing Lando's hand a little tighter.
Lando immediately noticed the subtle change.
He glanced sideways beneath the silver trim of his mask, feeling the gentle increase in pressure where her fingers intertwined with his. Without thinking, he returned the squeeze instinctively, brushing his thumb lazily across the back of her hand as they continued walking through the sea of supporters. It had become one of those unconscious conversations they'd developed over the years, communicating entire thoughts without speaking a single word. A tighter squeeze meant I'm here. His answering one meant I know.
Amelie smiled to herself.
She wasn't entirely sure whether the champagne was still responsible for the softness lingering in her chest anymore. Earlier in the evening she'd blamed every affectionate impulse on being tipsy, every stolen glance on tequila, every unnecessary hug on Mexico's heartbreaking elimination. But as they wandered beneath the glowing lights of Reforma, surrounded by thousands of strangers who had absolutely no idea who they were beneath the embroidered masks, she realized something quietly wonderful.
This wasn't the alcohol.
This was clarity.
The conversation with Alex underneath Estadio Azteca replayed gently through her mind, every sentence returning with surprising precision despite everything that had happened afterward. Every version of my future has her in it. Lando had admitted that to Max. Alex had told her they deserved each other. And somewhere between finding engagement rings on a laptop and celebrating beneath the Ángel dressed as anonymous luchadores, something inside her had settled into place.
She'd spent years wondering whether she was too much.
Too emotional.
Too impulsive.
Too loud when she was excited, too quiet when she was hurting, too complicated for someone to willingly choose forever.
Those thoughts had followed her for most of her adult life like persistent shadows, whispering that people loved the exciting version of Amelie Dayman but would eventually grow tired of the real one. The anxious one. The messy one. The woman who sometimes overthought herself into complete exhaustion before pretending everything was perfectly fine.
She had never admitted that fear out loud very often.
Not even to Lando.
Pieces of it had slipped through the cracks during difficult conversations over the years, usually late at night when honesty came a little easier than daylight. But she'd never fully explained just how impossible forever had always seemed whenever she pictured herself standing at the center of it. Marriage had always been something she desperately wanted, something she'd dreamed about since she was little, yet somehow she'd convinced herself it belonged to other people. To women who were steadier, calmer, easier to love.
She had spent so much of her life believing that love came with an expiration date.
Not because anyone had explicitly told her it did, but because somewhere along the way she'd started assuming people eventually grew tired of complicated hearts. She'd watched relationships fall apart, watched promises dissolve, watched "forever" quietly become "for now" more times than she cared to remember. Even after she and Lando had found their way back to each other, after every difficult year and every impossible conversation, there had still been a tiny, stubborn part of her that occasionally whispered, Don't get too comfortable. People leave.
Tonight, for the very first time.. that voice was quiet.
Almost completely silent.
She turned her head slightly, looking at the man walking beside her.
Lando was laughing at something Max had just said, the sound muffled slightly beneath the black-and-silver lucha mask covering most of his face. His shoulders shook with genuine amusement before he reached up to adjust the edge of the mask that had begun sliding down his nose. Even hidden behind embroidered fabric, she recognized every tiny expression. The crinkle at the corners of his eyes. The way he tilted his head back when something genuinely caught him off guard. The unconscious way his thumb continued tracing slow circles against the back of her hand, never once letting go as they walked.
She didn't need to see his whole face.
She knew him by heart, and suddenly, standing in the middle of thousands of celebrating strangers beneath the glowing lights of Mexico City, the realization landed with such certainty that it almost stole the air from her lungs.
It wasn't simply that she wanted to marry him.
It wasn't even that she hoped he might ask someday.
It was the quiet certainty settling deep inside her that, whether it happened next year or five years from now, whether it was in a tiny chapel or on a cliff overlooking the sea or somewhere entirely unexpected...
He would always be the one waiting for her at the end of the aisle.
No one else had ever occupied that place in her heart.
No one else ever would.
She smiled to herself beneath the bright pink mask.
Alex was right.
They deserved each other.
Not because they were perfect.
Not because they'd always gotten everything right.
But because after every mistake, every misunderstanding, every year spent growing into different versions of themselves, they had somehow continued choosing one another anyway.
Again and again and again.
Until choosing him no longer felt like a decision.
It simply felt like home.
The realization made something inside her chest ache so beautifully that she couldn't keep it to herself any longer.
She stopped walking.
The movement was so sudden that Lando instinctively stopped beside her, still holding her hand as the rest of the group continued several steps ahead before eventually realizing they were no longer following.
He turned toward her, tilting his head slightly.
—Everything okay?— he asked, his voice softened by concern.
She didn't answer.
Instead, she simply looked at him.
Really looked at him.
At the familiar curve of his shoulders beneath the England jersey, at the ridiculous wrestling mask somehow making him look both intimidating and impossibly adorable at the same time, at the pair of eyes that had become her favorite place in the world years ago without her even realizing it.
Lando's eyebrows lifted slightly beneath the edge of the mask.
—Ames...?—
She reached up with her free hand and gently rested it against the side of his face.
He immediately leaned into the touch.
The gesture was so instinctive neither of them even thought about it.
Without another second of hesitation, Amelie rose onto the tips of her trainers and closed the remaining distance between them.
Her lips found his with absolute certainty.
It wasn't rushed.
It wasn't playful.
It wasn't one of the countless little pecks they'd stolen throughout the evening.
It was slow.
Deep.
Certain.
She kissed him with every emotion she hadn't quite found words for since opening his laptop hours earlier. Every fear she'd finally let go of. Every dream she'd stopped believing belonged only to other people. Every ounce of love she'd been carrying around in her chest suddenly poured into one impossibly tender kiss beneath the golden glow of the Ángel de la Independencia.
Around them, the celebration continued uninterrupted.
Supporters sang.
Car horns echoed.
Someone set off another burst of green fireworks overhead.
The city kept moving.
Yet for those few seconds, neither of them noticed anything except each other.
Lando smiled into the kiss before finally pulling back just enough for their foreheads to rest together, both of them still hidden beneath their colorful masks.
He let out the softest little laugh.
—Well...— he murmured. —You finally decided to stop acting like you're disgusted by me.—
Amelie stared at him for exactly one second.
Then she burst into laughter.
—You're such an idiot,— she whispered.
—I've been saying good morning to you all day and this is the appreciation I get.—
She shook her head, unable to stop smiling.
—I kiss you every five minutes.—
—Could've fooled me.—
She gasped dramatically.
—I cannot believe this man.—
—Thought I'd have to file a formal complaint eventually.—
She didn't even bother answering.
Instead, she cupped his face with both hands and kissed him again.
This time she laughed softly against his mouth halfway through, making him laugh too before he wrapped both arms around her waist, pulling her impossibly close despite the crowd flowing around them.
—I love you,— she whispered against his lips.
The words came so naturally that she barely realized she'd spoken them aloud.
Lando's smile softened immediately.
The teasing disappeared as though it had never existed.
He brushed the tip of his nose gently against hers beneath their masks.
—I love you too,— he answered quietly.
She kissed him again.
—I love you.—
He smiled wider.
—I know.—
Another kiss.
—I really, really love you.—
He chuckled softly.
—I gathered that.—
She leaned in once more, stealing another lingering kiss before resting her forehead against his again.
—I just wanted to make sure you knew.—
Lando looked at her for a long moment.
There was something different about the way she was looking at him tonight.
Not more loving—that would've been impossible—but somehow... lighter.
As though she'd finally put down a weight she'd been carrying for years.
He didn't know why.
He didn't know what had changed.
He only knew that whatever it was, it had made the woman he loved look happier than he'd seen her in a very long time.
He lifted their intertwined hands and kissed her knuckles gently.
—I know,— he whispered. —And I'm going to spend the rest of my life making sure you never have to wonder if I love you back.—
For the briefest moment, Amelie's eyes shimmered.
She swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat before smiling so brightly it reached her eyes even through the ridiculous hot pink lucha mask.
Then, unable to help herself, she stole one last kiss.
Because some habits, she decided, were worth keeping forever.
Summary: Moving from an afternoon of playful banter and public affection in the stands of a major tennis tournament to a deeply intimate evening back at their hotel, the couple continues to navigate the effortless evolution of their relationship. However, a completely accidental discovery on a shared laptop shifts the dynamic entirely, leaving one of them to quietly process a breathless revelation about just how far their shared future has already been set in motion.
Wordcount: 10.2 k
Warnings: none
full masterlist // request over here!
July 8th, 2026 - London, United Kingdom
Soft morning light filtered through the sheer curtains of the hotel suite, painting thin golden lines across the rumpled white duvet. Beyond the tall windows, London was only just beginning to wake, the distant hum of traffic still muted beneath the quiet of an unusually peaceful morning. After three relentless weeks of Formula One, media commitments, and the whirlwind that always followed the British Grand Prix, the suite felt wonderfully still.
Amelie remained fast asleep beneath the covers, curled comfortably onto her side with one arm tucked beneath the pillow. She wore nothing but one of Lando's oversized white Oxford shirts from the previous afternoon, the sleeves hanging well past her wrists while the fabric carried the faint scent of his cologne mixed with fresh laundry. It had become something of an unspoken tradition over the years that any shirt he wore inevitably became hers by bedtime.
The bedroom door opened almost silently.
Lando stepped inside on careful feet, having slipped away earlier to grab coffee from the kitchen before the inevitable chaos of their day began. Wimbledon had practically demanded their attendance that afternoon, with invitations arriving months in advance and every member of both of their management teams gently insisting that saying no simply wasn't an option. Neither of them particularly minded, but both would have happily traded Centre Court for another slow morning exactly like this one.
He quietly set the two coffee cups onto the dresser before turning toward the bed.
For a long moment, he simply stood there.
There was something about seeing her asleep that always managed to slow him down. The outside world could be pulling at him from every direction—engineers, sponsors, interviews, flights—but the second he walked into a room and found Amelie peacefully sleeping, everything else somehow became significantly less urgent.
A small smile settled across his face.
He padded quietly across the carpet until he reached his side of the bed, carefully lowering himself onto the edge of the mattress. The movement made it dip ever so slightly beneath his weight, but she didn't stir beyond the tiniest shift against her pillow.
Lando turned onto his side behind her, closing the small distance between them until he was pressed gently against her back.
He smiled to himself before leaning forward, brushing the lightest kiss against the bare curve of her shoulder where the oversized shirt had slipped slightly during the night. His lips lingered there for a brief second before traveling higher, leaving another soft kiss just below her neck, then another against her shoulder blade, each one deliberately slow as though he were trying to wake her without ever actually disturbing the peace surrounding them.
Amelie smiled before she was even fully awake.
Somewhere between dreaming and consciousness, she immediately recognized him. No one else kissed her with that particular combination of tenderness and quiet amusement, as though he enjoyed the process of waking her almost as much as he enjoyed having her awake. She let out the faintest sleepy hum, her smile growing a little wider as another kiss found the corner of her jaw before one brushed lazily across her cheek.
Lando chuckled softly against her skin.
—You're supposed to be asleep,— he whispered, his voice still rough from sleep himself.
Her eyelashes fluttered open slowly, blinking against the warm morning light filtering through the curtains. She stayed exactly where she was for another second, savoring the feeling of his arm resting loosely around her waist before lazily rolling onto her back to look up at him.
His curls were somehow even messier than usual, sticking up in every direction imaginable, and he still wore nothing except a pair of black boxers. The combination made him look far less like the reigning Formula One World Champion and much more like the twenty-six-year-old she'd fallen hopelessly in love with.
She smiled sleepily.
—How exactly am I supposed to stay asleep,— she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, —when I get woken up so beautifully?—
Lando let out a quiet laugh, the sound warm and sleepy as he brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face. His fingertips lingered gently against her cheek, his smile impossibly soft beneath the morning light streaming through the windows.
—That sounds suspiciously like encouragement,— he murmured.
Amelie smiled up at him, still blinking away the last traces of sleep.
—Maybe it is.—
He shook his head with an amused little smile before leaning down once more, capturing her lips in another slow kiss. It wasn't hurried in the slightest. There was no urgency waiting for them despite the schedule everyone else had carefully planned. For those few seconds, Wimbledon, interviews, photographers, and London itself simply didn't exist. There was only the quiet room, tangled white sheets, and the familiar comfort they always found in each other.
When they finally separated, their foreheads rested together naturally.
—I was trying to let you sleep in,— Lando whispered.
—You failed terribly.—
—I know.— He smiled. —I'm not even sorry about it.—
She laughed quietly, one hand finding the back of his neck almost absentmindedly.
—I noticed.—
He looked at her for another moment, studying the sleepy smile that still hadn't disappeared from her face. It amazed him how someone could wake up looking so effortlessly peaceful, as though mornings had never been capable of being anything except gentle.
—You still look half asleep,— he observed.
Amelie stretched lazily beneath the duvet, one arm disappearing above her head as she let out the tiniest yawn imaginable. The oversized white shirt slid slightly higher along one shoulder, and she smiled without opening her eyes again, looking entirely content to drift straight back to sleep if given the opportunity.
—I think that's because I was asleep thirty seconds ago,— she replied, her voice still thick with sleep. —You're expecting miracles before coffee.—
Lando laughed quietly, unable to resist brushing another feather-light kiss against the tip of her nose.
—I did bring coffee.—
She opened one eye dramatically.
—See? You really do know the way to my heart.—
—Pretty sure I figured that out years ago.—
Before she could think of another teasing reply, a faint scratching noise echoed from the other side of the bedroom door.
The soft scratching came again, a little more persistent this time, followed by the tiniest, most pitiful whine imaginable.
Lando froze for exactly half a second before the corners of his mouth twitched upward into an unmistakable smile.
The scratching resumed with renewed determination, accompanied by another tiny, dramatic cry that sounded almost offended they hadn't answered immediately. Charlie had clearly decided that enough time had passed without either of his humans acknowledging his existence, and he intended to remedy that problem as quickly as possible.
Amelie couldn't help laughing softly, burying her face briefly against Lando's shoulder. Even after months of having Charlie, the puppy remained completely convinced that every closed door represented a personal betrayal. Whether they were asleep, showering, or simply changing clothes, Charlie viewed separation as an inconvenience that required immediate correction, preferably through persistent scratching and the saddest noises a dog could possibly produce.
—I think someone is feeling neglected,— she mumbled, her voice still sleepy as another scratch scraped gently across the painted wood.
Lando sighed dramatically, though the grin stretching across his face ruined every attempt at sounding inconvenienced. He gave her one last quick kiss before reluctantly untangling himself from the warmth of the bed.
Lando pushed himself upright with an exaggerated groan, stretching until his shoulders clicked softly. Still dressed in nothing but his black boxers, he lifted both arms above his head as he walked across the bedroom, his curls sticking out in every possible direction after a full night's sleep. The morning sun caught the faint tan lines across his shoulders as he reached the door, and he couldn't help smiling before he even turned the handle. There was absolutely no mystery about who was waiting on the other side.
The moment the door opened, Charlie practically tumbled into the room.
The golden retriever puppy bounded across the threshold with all the enthusiasm only a puppy could possess, his tail wagging so violently that his entire body swayed with it. He let out a delighted little bark before making a beeline for the bed, his paws skidding slightly against the polished wooden floor as he struggled to stop himself from launching onto the mattress without permission. Instead, he sat—remarkably obedient for once—right beside Amelie's side of the bed, staring up at her with impossibly bright brown eyes and a smile that somehow looked every bit as excited as a human's.
Lando leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the scene unfold with obvious amusement. Charlie's ears perked forward expectantly, his tail continuing to sweep enthusiastically across the floor while he waited for the invitation he knew he was supposed to receive. It was a routine they had accidentally created over the past few months. No matter how eager he was, Charlie had learned that the bed belonged to them first, and he wouldn't jump up until one of them invited him.
—Such a gentleman,— Lando said with a sleepy grin. —You cry like the world is ending, but suddenly you've got perfect manners.—
Charlie answered by letting out one tiny, impatient whine without taking his eyes off Amelie for even a second.
She couldn't stop smiling.
Still wrapped in the oversized Oxford shirt that barely covered the tops of her thighs, Amelie slowly pushed herself upright against the headboard, her hair wonderfully messy after a full night's sleep. The duvet pooled around her lap while one sleeve slipped down toward her fingertips, making the shirt look even larger than it already was. She looked between Charlie's hopeful expression and Lando's amused one before laughing softly, the sound filling the quiet bedroom.
—I know, baby,— she cooed, her voice naturally slipping into the impossibly affectionate tone she reserved almost exclusively for Charlie. —You've been so patient, haven't you?—
Charlie's ears lifted instantly at the sound of her voice. His entire body seemed to vibrate with anticipation, though somehow he remained planted exactly where he was, his gaze fixed entirely on her face as though awaiting official approval from the highest authority imaginable.
Amelie lifted both hands toward the mattress and gave it two gentle pats before clapping lightly against the duvet.
—Come here.—
That was all the permission he needed.
Charlie sprang onto the bed in one effortless leap, landing with surprising grace before immediately making his way toward her. His tail wagged so enthusiastically it slapped against the duvet as he nudged his nose beneath her hand, practically demanding the morning cuddles he clearly believed were overdue. Within seconds, he had settled comfortably against her side, pressing his warm body into her hip while looking up at her with complete satisfaction, as though the morning had only truly begun now that everyone was together again.
—There he is,— Amelie laughed, scratching behind one floppy ear before rubbing both hands through his impossibly soft golden fur. —Life was simply unbearable for the last... what? Five whole minutes?—
Charlie responded by licking the back of her hand with complete seriousness.
—I think that's a yes,— Lando observed, chuckling as he wandered back toward the bed.
He climbed onto the mattress again, sitting beside them with one knee bent while watching Charlie immediately divide his attention between both of them. The puppy leaned against Amelie while stretching his neck toward Lando, determined not to neglect either parent for too long. It never failed to make Lando laugh how Charlie somehow managed to love them with equal enthusiasm, always finding impossible ways to be touching both of them at once.
—He's got separation anxiety,— Lando said, reaching over to rub Charlie's chest. —But only when it comes to us. Leave him with anyone else and he's perfectly fine. Close one bedroom door, though, and suddenly he's starring in his own tragedy.—
—Excuse you,— Amelie defended, still smiling as Charlie rested his chin on her thigh. —He's not dramatic. He's emotionally expressive.—
Lando looked at her with raised eyebrows.
—Emotionally expressive? He cried because I went to brush my teeth yesterday.—
—Well... you did disappear.—
—I disappeared into the ensuite for approximately ninety seconds.—
She shrugged with complete confidence, scratching beneath Charlie's chin until one of his back legs started kicking involuntarily.
—Ninety very long seconds.—
Lando laughed so hard he had to shake his head, reaching over to lace his fingers with hers where they rested against Charlie's back. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before leaning over to kiss the side of her head, smiling against her hair.
—I swear the two of you encourage each other.—
Amelie turned just enough to look at him, her eyes still carrying that sleepy softness from only minutes earlier.
—I don't know what you're talking about.—
—No?—
—Nope.—
Charlie chose that exact moment to roll dramatically onto his back between them, paws curled toward his chest in an unmistakable request for belly rubs.
Lando pointed down at him without taking his eyes off Amelie.
—Exhibit A.—
She looked at Charlie's shamelessly expectant expression before dissolving into laughter all over again.
—I stand corrected,— she admitted between giggles. —Maybe someone in this room is a little dramatic.—
Charlie barked once, happily accepting the belly rubs from both of them anyway, entirely unconcerned about the accusations being made at his expense. The bedroom filled with quiet laughter, sleepy smiles, and the contented sighs of a puppy who had successfully reunited his favorite people, while beyond the windows London continued waking for another busy day that, for just a little while longer, could wait.
--------------
liked by f1updates, landostandhq, and others
lanmeliehub: Lando and Amelie spotted together at Wimbledon today.
View all 283 comments
wimbledonwatch: NOT THEM GETTING DRAGGED TO WIMBLEDON AND STILL LOOKING LIKE THEY'RE ON A DATE 😭
→ lanmeliehub: they make everything look romantic unfortunately
→ papayagirl: their biggest talent
papayaprincess: LANDO SAID HE WAS "FORCED" TO COME AND NOW HE'S SMILING LIKE THAT??? 😭
→ orange4ever: Amelie effect
amelieupdates: she looks so happy omg 🥹
→ amesnation: she always looks happiest when she's annoying him
→ papayahq: and he loves it
f1gossipdaily: remember when Lando said he didn't understand tennis and now he's attending Wimbledon 😭
→ orangegrid: bro went from "no thanks" to front row
→ lan4ever: love changes a man
papayagirl: THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER WHILE THEY'RE WALKING???
→ gridgirlie: don't zoom in i beg
tennisszn: came for the tennis stayed for the F1 crossover 😭
→ f1updates: the paddock followed them to Wimbledon
→ orangeobsession: we're everywhere
landostandhq: waiting for the photo where Amelie explains the rules to him again 😭
ameliecentral: i just know she picked the outfits and he complained for 20 minutes
→ lan4life: accurate
→ orange4ever: but wore it anyway
f1detectives: this is the same man who said he wanted a quiet weekend btw
→ detectiveera: impossible with Amelie around 😭
→ papayahq: he secretly loves it
gridgirlie: silverstone ➡️ wimbledon with no break??? they're stronger than me
orangeobsession: everyone talks about F1 WAG content but can we talk about tennis event Amelie + Lando content 😭
→ amesdefender: a new category has been created
→ f1updates: elite crossover
papayaprincess: the funniest thing is he probably complained about coming and then had the best day
→ lanmeliehub: that's literally their relationship dynamic
f1updates: Lando at Wimbledon is the most "dragged by girlfriend" thing ever 😭
→ orange4ever: and somehow he looks happy
→ papayahq: that's the important part
lanmeliehub: new challenge: find an event where these two don't turn it into a date
→ papayaprincess: impossible
tennisandtyres: the crossover nobody knew they needed 😭🎾🏎️
→ f1updates: honestly the content is elite
→ papayagirl: F1 fans won today
orangeobsession: Lando pretending he doesn't like Wimbledon while sitting there with the biggest smile 😭
papayahq: someone check if Lando knows the score or if he's just there to hold her drink 😭
→ f1fangirl99: his main job today
→ orange4ever: boyfriend duties > tennis knowledge
ameliecentral: she really said "you're coming with me" and he said "yes ma'am" 😭
→ lanmeliehub: the power she has
f1gossipdaily: Lando Norris at Wimbledon was not on my 2026 bingo card
→ orangegrid: neither was him looking this comfortable
→ papayagirl: Amelie expanding his hobbies one event at a time
gridgirlie: i need the behind the scenes conversation of her convincing him to go 😭
f1fashion: can we appreciate their event fits though??
→ paddockstyle: always coordinated without matching exactly
→ amesdefender: they understand the assignment
papayaprincess: the funniest part is he probably knows more about tennis now than he admits
→ tennisfan88: give him six months he'll have a favorite player
landostandhq: LANDO AT WIMBLEDON CONTENT IS SO FUNNY BECAUSE HE LOOKS LIKE A LOST GOLDEN RETRIEVER 😭
→ gridgirlie: with Amelie as his guide
→ lan4ever: exactly
orangegrid: the way they look like they just went on a casual afternoon date 😭
amesnation: Amelie has officially introduced Lando to every British summer activity possible 😭
f1fangirl99: someone tell Lando he's allowed to admit he's having fun
→ papayaprincess: his brand is pretending everything is annoying
→ gridgirlie: meanwhile he's thriving
wagsdaily: the WAG crossover content this weekend has been elite
→ f1updates: race paddock 🤝 tennis courts
tennislover: respectfully, Amelie explaining tennis to Lando is probably hilarious
→ f1fangirl99: "no Lando, you can't just hit it harder"
→ papayaprincess: I CAN HEAR THIS
--------------
The applause around Centre Court rolled like distant thunder as the final spectators settled into their seats. The unmistakable atmosphere of Wimbledon surrounded them—the perfectly trimmed grass, the quiet murmur of thousands of conversations blending into one, and the occasional pop of champagne corks somewhere higher in the hospitality boxes. Cameras swept across the crowd every few minutes, pausing on celebrities, athletes, and familiar faces before moving on again as anticipation continued to build for the first semifinal of the afternoon.
Amelie adjusted the skirt of her white and red plaid dress as she settled more comfortably into her seat, crossing one leg neatly over the other. Her hair had been gathered into a soft ponytail that rested against the back of her neck, leaving a few wisps framing her face whenever the gentle London breeze wandered through Centre Court. Beside her, Lando looked effortlessly put together in a cream dress shirt tucked neatly into matching tailored trousers, his sunglasses hooked casually into the front of his shirt despite the overcast afternoon. It wasn't exactly where either of them would have chosen to spend their rare week off, but there was something undeniably pleasant about simply existing together without either of them having to perform.
To Lando's right sat George and Carmen, who had arrived only minutes before the players were scheduled to walk onto court. George had already spent the better part of fifteen minutes making observations about nearly every famous person scattered throughout the stands, earning more than one discreet elbow from Carmen whenever his commentary became slightly too loud for Wimbledon standards. The famously polite silence expected around Centre Court did very little to discourage him, forcing most of his opinions into exaggerated whispers that somehow remained just as noticeable.
The announcer's voice echoed softly through the stadium as another wave of applause rippled around the court, drawing everyone's attention toward the tunnel where the players would soon emerge. Amelie leaned forward slightly with genuine interest, her hands folded neatly in her lap as she admired the immaculate grass stretching before them.
A movement beside her pulled her attention away for only a second.
Someone had arrived for the remaining empty seat on her left.
The young man offered an apologetic smile as he carefully squeezed past the already seated spectators, quietly murmuring excuses before finally reaching his place. The second he turned toward her, recognition immediately spread across both of their faces.
Amelie's expression brightened almost instantly.
—Jack!— she whispered, mindful of the setting as she leaned over just enough to greet him. —I didn't know you were coming.—
Jack Innanen smiled just as warmly while settling into his seat, carefully placing his programme on his lap before turning toward her.
—Last-minute invitation,— he explained quietly. —I figured if someone offers Centre Court, you don't exactly say no.—
—Very true.—
They shared a quick, effortless laugh that carried the unmistakable ease of two people who had spent the better part of the last several weeks together.
—How's your week off treating you?— Jack asked.
—Surprisingly peaceful.— Amelie smiled. —Until they dragged us here.—
He laughed again.
Lando's attention drifted toward the conversation almost instinctively.
He hadn't meant to eavesdrop. In fact, he'd been watching the grounds crew finish their final preparations only seconds earlier. But hearing Amelie laugh—that particular laugh she reserved for people she genuinely enjoyed—made his eyes flicker sideways before he could stop himself. The unfamiliar man beside her looked around their age, relaxed in a navy blazer over an open-collared white shirt, and spoke to her with the easy familiarity of someone who didn't need introductions. Lando searched his memory, cycling through award shows, premieres, concerts, birthdays, after-parties, and every event they'd attended together over the years. Nothing. He had absolutely no idea who he was.
George noticed almost immediately.
Not because Lando had said anything, but because George Russell had developed an almost supernatural ability to detect even the slightest hint of paddock gossip before anyone else. Without turning his head from the court, he leaned a fraction closer.
—Who's your mate?— he whispered with complete innocence.
Lando kept his eyes forward.
His expression remained perfectly neutral, at least to anyone who didn't know him particularly well. George, unfortunately, knew him far too well for that performance to be remotely convincing. Lando kept his hands loosely folded in his lap, his jaw relaxed, his attention supposedly directed toward the baseline where the players had begun their warm-up. Yet every few seconds, almost against his own will, his gaze drifted sideways for the briefest moment before returning to the court as though nothing had happened.
—I have absolutely no idea,— he admitted quietly, careful to keep his voice low enough not to disturb anyone nearby.
George's eyebrows lifted ever so slightly.
—Interesting.—
Carmen, who had followed the entire exchange without saying a word, gently nudged George's arm with the unmistakable warning look that meant don't you dare. She knew exactly what expression had appeared on her boyfriend's face, and it was never one that led anywhere productive. George simply smiled to himself, making no effort whatsoever to disguise how entertained he already was.
The applause around Centre Court swelled as both players emerged from the tunnel, carrying their racquets beneath the polite ovation that Wimbledon crowds always seemed to master perfectly. Thousands of spectators rose briefly before settling back into their seats, conversations fading into respectful silence. Cameras floated overhead, occasionally lingering on familiar faces throughout the stands before returning their focus to the athletes below.
Amelie applauded enthusiastically beside him, completely absorbed by the atmosphere.
Jack applauded as well, smiling as he looked out across the immaculate grass before making a quiet comment about how different Wimbledon looked in person compared to television. Amelie nodded in agreement, replying with an observation about how much quieter everything felt despite twenty thousand people occupying the stadium. Their voices remained little more than whispers before both naturally redirected their attention toward the court.
Lando heard every word anyway.
Not because they were speaking loudly, but because his brain had apparently decided that anything the stranger said automatically deserved immediate attention. It irritated him almost instantly. He wasn't normally like this. He trusted Amelie completely. There had never been a reason not to. Yet the fact that someone she clearly knew well enough to fall into effortless conversation with had appeared completely out of nowhere left an uncomfortable little knot sitting somewhere beneath his ribs.
—No idea,— he replied under his breath, sounding far more casual than he actually felt.
George had to physically bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing.
—That's somehow worse,— he murmured, keeping his eyes fixed on the court where the players had begun knocking a few practice balls across the net. —She's talking to Mystery Man while you're out here collecting absolutely zero information. Bold strategy, mate.—
Carmen immediately reached over and lightly pinched George's forearm.
—George,— she whispered firmly.
George looked at her with the expression of someone who had been deeply misunderstood.
—What?— he whispered back innocently. —I'm simply observing the situation. I'm basically providing live commentary. It's educational.—
—You're making it worse.—
—I haven't even started yet.—
Carmen closed her eyes for a brief second, already regretting bringing him anywhere that required prolonged periods of silence.
The chair umpire called for quiet as the players stepped behind the baseline, bouncing the first balls of the afternoon. Centre Court fell into the kind of respectful hush unique to Wimbledon, where thousands of people somehow managed to become almost completely silent within seconds. The only sounds came from the distant birds overhead, the squeak of tennis shoes against grass, and the rhythmic bounce of a ball before the opening serve.
Lando fixed his attention on the court with determined concentration, or at least, that had been the plan.
His eyes followed the first serve across the net before, entirely against his better judgment, drifting toward Amelie once more. She was sitting with perfect posture, one hand resting lightly against her crossed knee as she watched the rally with genuine fascination. The soft ponytail swayed gently whenever she tilted her head, and the red plaid pattern of her dress looked almost made for the setting, fitting effortlessly among the strawberries, cream, and timeless Wimbledon traditions surrounding them.
The opening rally stretched longer than anyone had expected, drawing appreciative murmurs from the crowd as both players exchanged precise shots from the baseline. A collective gasp rolled through Centre Court when one of them managed a spectacular passing shot down the line, followed by warm applause as the point finally came to an end. For a few brief moments, every pair of eyes remained fixed on the court.
Every pair except one.
Lando's attention drifted sideways almost involuntarily before he caught himself and forced his gaze back toward the match. He shifted slightly in his seat, folding one ankle behind the other beneath his chair as though changing positions might somehow redirect his focus. It didn't. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remained acutely aware of every small movement occurring to his left without actually looking. It was infuriating.
Jack leaned forward briefly to retrieve the match programme that had slipped toward his feet, quietly apologizing to the spectators in the row ahead before settling back into his seat. Amelie smiled politely without taking her eyes away from the rally unfolding below, absentmindedly brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear that had escaped her ponytail. Neither of them exchanged another word as the match continued, both completely absorbed by the quality of tennis being played.
George noticed that too.
Which, somehow, made the situation even funnier.
He waited until another burst of applause masked his whisper before leaning ever so slightly toward Lando, making sure Carmen couldn't physically stop him in time.
—They're not even talking anymore,— George murmured with exaggerated concern. —This is somehow even more serious. Comfortable silence? That's dangerous territory.—
Lando didn't even look at him.
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly before he exhaled through his nose, never taking his eyes off the court despite hearing every ridiculous word George had just whispered. He knew exactly what George was doing. If there was even the faintest possibility of creating harmless chaos, George would nurture it like it was his full-time profession. Normally Lando would've laughed, made some sarcastic remark back, and the conversation would've ended there. Unfortunately, George had chosen the one topic capable of making him genuinely distracted.
—Will you shut up?— Lando muttered beneath his breath, keeping his tone calm enough not to attract the attention of anyone around them.
George's grin only widened.
—Ah, there it is.— He nodded knowingly, as though he'd just confirmed a long-standing scientific theory. —Defensive already. That's never a good sign.—
Lando resisted the almost overwhelming urge to roll his eyes.
Instead, he fixed his attention firmly on the court where another breathtaking rally had drawn the audience into complete silence. The players traded impossible shots across the immaculate grass, the crowd collectively holding its breath before erupting into polite applause as the point finally ended. It should have been easy to lose himself in the match. It was phenomenal tennis. Ordinarily, he would've been analysing serves, predicting break points, and quietly appreciating the athleticism on display.
Today, however, George Russell was making that virtually impossible.
—You know,— George whispered again after another applause break, somehow finding precisely the moments when the crowd became loud enough to disguise his voice, —I reckon Mystery Man's doing pretty well for himself. Confident posture. Good hair. Nice jacket.—
Lando blinked slowly.
—I genuinely cannot believe this is what you're choosing to spend your afternoon doing,— he replied without looking at him.
—I'm invested now.—
—You're insufferable.—
—Correct.— George nodded proudly. —But not inaccurate.—
To Carmen's credit, she looked thoroughly mortified.
She reached over and lightly smacked George's arm, shaking her head with an apologetic smile toward Lando before quietly mouthing, I'm sorry. George simply looked pleased with himself, apparently viewing her disapproval as confirmation that he was successfully entertaining himself. Unfortunately for everyone sitting within whispering distance, he clearly had no intention of stopping.
As if George weren't enough, Jack happened to lean slightly toward Amelie after one particularly spectacular passing shot.
—That angle was ridiculous,— he commented quietly, still watching the court.
—I know.— Amelie smiled. —There's absolutely no way I would've gotten anywhere near that ball.—
—Neither would've I.—
Lando heard the exchange despite making a very conscious effort not to. It wasn't even that they were talking much. They weren't. Most of their comments consisted of quick observations about the match before immediately returning their attention to Centre Court. That was almost worse somehow. Their conversation flowed with an easy familiarity that suggested they didn't need to fill every silence to enjoy each other's company, and every now and then Jack's dry sense of humor earned another one of Amelie's soft laughs. They weren't loud laughs, nor particularly frequent, but every single one landed directly on Lando's rapidly diminishing patience.
Another game came and went.
The match itself was spectacular, full of impossible winners and rallies that had the entire stadium leaning forward in anticipation. Every point seemed to outdo the previous one, drawing respectful applause that rolled around Centre Court before dissolving back into perfect silence. Normally Lando loved tennis. He genuinely enjoyed watching high-level athletes perform at their absolute best. Yet he was becoming increasingly aware that he had spent the last twenty minutes absorbing almost none of what was happening on the court.
Another ripple of applause swept across Centre Court as one player held serve with a perfectly placed ace down the T. The scoreboard changed, the crowd settled once again, and another respectful hush descended over the stadium. Around them, spectators leaned forward with quiet anticipation, completely engrossed by the quality of tennis unfolding on the pristine grass. Lando, meanwhile, was beginning to suspect he'd witnessed perhaps three actual points in the last twenty minutes.
He'd certainly heard enough commentary to fill the gaps.
George, despite Carmen's repeated attempts to silence him, had somehow transformed the afternoon into his own private documentary. Every time Jack happened to whisper something to Amelie, George found a way to notice. Every small laugh she let out earned another subtle nudge toward Lando, another ridiculously innocent observation delivered in the most unhelpful tone imaginable.
—There it is again,— George murmured after another point ended. —He's funny too.—
Lando didn't even blink.
He simply stared straight ahead, jaw tightening ever so slightly as polite applause echoed around the stadium once more. If George made one more comment about "Jack," whose surname he still didn't know, he was genuinely considering switching seats. It wasn't even jealousy anymore. It was George relentlessly narrating a situation that Lando had been trying very hard not to think about in the first place.
—Mate,— Lando whispered through the smallest smile imaginable, one that looked pleasant enough for any nearby cameras but carried an unmistakable warning beneath it. —If you say the word "Jack" one more time, I'm putting you on the next flight back to Monaco myself.—
George looked almost offended.
—I don't think that's very Wimbledon of you.—
—George...—
—I'm just saying, he seems delightful.—
Carmen pinched the bridge of her nose.
—I am begging you to stop talking.—
—I physically can't.— George shrugged. —It's one of my worst qualities.—
Lando huffed out an involuntary laugh despite himself, though it disappeared almost immediately when another soft laugh escaped Amelie beside him.
He didn't even need to look to know why.
Jack had leaned over to make another quiet comment after an amusing exchange between the players and the chair umpire. Whatever he'd whispered earned another smile from Amelie, the kind where her nose scrunched just slightly before she covered it with a polite hand, mindful of the silence expected around Centre Court.
That laugh.
Lando adored that laugh.
He also happened to prefer being the one causing it.
His fingers drummed absentmindedly against his knee as he watched another rally unfold, trying—and failing—to convince himself to simply ignore the entire situation. Rationally, he knew there was absolutely nothing happening. He trusted Amelie more than anyone on the planet. She'd never given him a single reason to doubt her, not once in nearly three years together.
Still.
That didn't stop a tiny, entirely irrational part of his brain from finding the situation mildly irritating. Not because of Jack himself—who, from everything Lando had observed, seemed perfectly polite—but because George had spent the better part of half an hour turning the man into the protagonist of an imaginary rivalry. It was impossible to ignore something when George insisted on narrating it like a nature documentary.
Another burst of applause echoed around Centre Court as the players changed ends.
George leaned back in his seat, glanced past Amelie for approximately half a second, then looked back at Lando with an expression that immediately raised alarm bells.
—Jack seems to know quite a lot about music too,— he whispered. —Very versatile chap—
Lando inhaled slowly.
Deeply.
He counted to three.
Then four.
By five, he decided he'd officially had enough.
Without saying a single word, he shifted in his seat.
Amelie, completely focused on the scoreboard while absentmindedly taking a sip of the sparkling water resting in the cup holder beside her chair, barely noticed him moving until his arm suddenly appeared across the back of her seat.
In one smooth, almost theatrical movement, Lando draped an arm comfortably around her shoulders from behind, gently pulling her back against his side as though the position had been the most natural thing in the world all along. His forearm rested loosely across her collarbones while his hands linked together just below her shoulder, effectively wrapping her in an unmistakably affectionate embrace.
Subtle it was not.
It was, in fact, perhaps the least subtle thing he could have possibly done in the middle of Wimbledon.
Amelie nearly choked on her sip of water.
Not because the movement had startled her, but because she recognized exactly what he was doing within a fraction of a second. She lowered the bottle back into the cup holder with exaggerated care, fighting the smile that immediately threatened to spread across her face. Without turning her head, she glanced sideways toward the arm comfortably wrapped around her shoulders before slowly looking up at Lando. His expression was the very definition of innocence, eyes fixed attentively on Centre Court as though he hadn't just announced to an entire section of Wimbledon that the woman beside him was very much taken.
She bit the inside of her cheek.
Oh, this was far too entertaining.
It had been years since she'd seen this particular version of Lando. Early in their relationship, he had been adorably possessive in the most harmless, transparent ways imaginable. A hand on the small of her back. Fingers intertwined a little tighter whenever someone flirted a touch too confidently. Quiet reminders to anyone nearby that she wasn't simply Amelie Dayman, international pop star, but his girlfriend. Over time, that side of him had almost completely disappeared, replaced by the calm confidence of someone who no longer questioned where her heart belonged.
Which was exactly why seeing it reappear now made her want to laugh.
She loved this version of him.
Not because she enjoyed making him genuinely uncomfortable—she never would—but because she knew the truth behind it. Lando wasn't insecure. He wasn't suspicious. He simply adored her with his entire heart, and every now and then, when circumstances aligned in exactly the wrong—or right—way, that tiny possessive streak peeked out for a few minutes before disappearing again. It was ridiculously endearing.
She decided, almost instantly, that she was going to have a little fun with it.
Jack, completely oblivious to the silent drama unfolding on the other side of Amelie, leaned forward after another incredible rally ended with roaring applause.
—That backhand was insane,— he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief.
Amelie turned toward him with a smile.
—I don't even understand how he got there in time,— she replied quietly, genuinely commenting on the match.
Lando's arm tightened.
His reaction was almost imperceptible to anyone else.
Almost.
His forearm remained comfortably draped across her shoulders, but they tightened by the smallest fraction as though his subconscious had made the decision before his brain caught up. His thumb brushed absentmindedly against the fabric of her dress while he kept his gaze fixed stubbornly on the court, pretending to be completely invested in the point beginning below. If someone had asked him, he would've denied doing anything differently. Amelie, however, knew every tiny unconscious habit he possessed after nearly five years together.
She noticed all of them.
The corners of her mouth twitched upward.
Jack continued watching the rally for another few shots before leaning over again during the applause that followed.
Amelie turned toward him once more, listening as he made another quick observation about how impossible grass-court tennis looked compared to any other surface. She answered with an amused nod, adding a short comment of her own before both of them naturally looked back toward the court. It was a conversation that lasted barely ten seconds, completely innocent and entirely about tennis, yet she could practically feel the warmth of Lando's arm becoming just a touch more protective around her shoulders.
It was adorable.
She lowered her eyes briefly, pretending to adjust the bracelet around her wrist simply to hide the smile threatening to betray her. If she'd looked at Lando right then, she knew she would've laughed. He was trying so unbelievably hard to appear casual that it somehow became even more obvious. His chin rested lightly against the side of her head for the briefest moment before lifting again, his posture radiating an effortless confidence that would've fooled almost anyone else.
Not her.
She knew every version of him.
The confident world champion who walked through paddocks without a second thought. The exhausted boyfriend who stole her hoodies because they somehow smelled like home. The man who still reached for her hand in his sleep without ever waking up. And the incredibly specific version currently sitting beside her, quietly reminding an entire row of Centre Court exactly who his girlfriend was without saying a single word.
God, she missed seeing him like this.
Not because she questioned his trust—quite the opposite. Over the years, Lando had become wonderfully secure in their relationship. Gone were the days when tabloids or headlines could genuinely bother him. He knew her. He knew exactly where she'd be at the end of every day. More importantly, he knew she only ever looked at him the way she did.
Which was precisely why this rare glimpse of harmless jealousy felt almost nostalgic.
She couldn't resist.
As another applause break rolled through Centre Court, she leaned ever so slightly away from Lando's chest—only enough to look up at him over her shoulder.
—Comfortable?— she asked sweetly, keeping her voice barely above a whisper.
His eyes met hers behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses.
A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
—Very,— he answered without a trace of shame.
There wasn't even an attempt to disguise what he was doing anymore. His arm remained loosely looped around her shoulders, his fingers lazily intertwined against the front of her dress while he continued looking toward the court as though they were simply sitting like every other couple in attendance. To anyone watching from a distance, it looked comfortably affectionate. To Amelie, who knew him better than anyone alive, it was practically a public declaration.
Mine.
She had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing.
—Good,— she whispered, fighting every instinct to tease him immediately.
Lando hummed contentedly before resting his chin for the briefest second against the top of her head. It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't territorial in any obvious sense. It was simply... incredibly, unmistakably boyfriend. The kind of unconscious affection that somehow managed to communicate everything without requiring a single word.
Amelie shifted her weight slightly, her plaid dress rustling against the leather seat as she prepared to turn her full attention back to Jack and deliver another playful tease that would undoubtedly drive Lando insane, but she never got the chance. Before she could even part her lips to speak, Lando’s hand moved with lightning-fast precision, his fingers firmly catching her chin and gently but unyieldingly turning her head so she was forced to look directly at him.
He didn't care about the cameras, the prestigious Wimbledon crowd, or George Russell’s inevitably suffocating amusement as he leaned down and pressed a slow, incredibly firm kiss against her lips that effectively silenced her. The possessive warmth of his mouth completely consumed her for a long, lingering moment, leaving her slightly breathless and utterly dizzy under his sudden, dominant display of affection right in the middle of Centre Court.
When Lando finally pulled back just an inch, his fingers remained wrapped under her jaw, his dark sunglasses reflecting her flushed cheeks as he looked down at her with a wicked, entirely serious smirk.
—Behave.— he murmured into the tiny space between them, his voice dropping into a rough, private whisper that was meant entirely for her ears
Amelie let out a soft, defeated chuckle, her heart hammering violently against her ribs as the bright redness completely covered her cheeks, realizing she had been thoroughly caught in her own game. She nodded obediently under the steady weight of his gaze, completely melting against his side as Lando finally released her chin, his arm remaining securely wrapped around her shoulders to keep her tucked firmly against his chest for the remainder of the afternoon.
--------------
liked by papayahq, lanmeliehub, and others
paddockwags: From the paddock to Centre Court. 🤍🎾
Lando and Amelie were spotted sharing a sweet kiss in the stands before settling in with his arm around her throughout the match.
View all 414 comments
papayagirl: THEY KISSED IN THE STANDS????????? HELLO???? 😭🤍
→ lan4ever: WIMBLEDON JUST BECAME A ROM-COM
→ gridgirlie: i'm actually blushing
orangeobsession: the arm around her shoulders the WHOLE match 🥹
→ papayahq: your honor that's his favorite position
amelieupdates: they're literally incapable of acting like they're not on a date 😭
→ amesdefender: because they ARE on a date
→ papayaprincess: exactly 😭
tennisfan88: imagine trying to watch the match and THESE TWO are in front of you 😭
→ orange4ever: i'd forget tennis existed
lanmeliehub: THE LITTLE KISS 😭😭😭
→ papayagirl: i need 700 more angles immediately
→ orangegrid: release the CCTV
f1gossipdaily: silverstone one day... wimbledon kisses the next 😭
→ lan4life: they're feeding us nonstop
wagsdaily: the way he automatically put his arm around her 🥹
→ orangeobsession: muscle memory at this point
→ amesnation: it's so natural
f1updates: someone check on the people sitting behind them 😭
→ papayaprincess: they witnessed CINEMA
papayagirl: they're so "let me kiss you before we watch tennis" coded 😭
→ lan4ever: relationship goals unfortunately
→ orange4ever: my standards just got higher
ameliecentral: @ameliedayman winning at life honestly
→ amesupdates: respectfully yes
orangegrid: i know they forgot there were cameras 😭
→ lanmeliehub: that's why these photos are so cute
f1detectives: i fear Lando likes her a little bit guys
→ detectiveera: hot take
→ papayagirl: controversial if true
papayaprincess: imagine being the photographer and accidentally getting the cutest photo of the day 😭
lan4life: okay but THE SMILE HE HAD AFTER THE KISS 😭
→ papayahq: STOP I'M TRYING TO FUNCTION
→ orangeobsession: impossible task
amesnation: this man has been smiling for like four straight days 😭
papayagirl: i just know he spent half the match talking to her instead of watching 😭
gridgirlie: the way they make every event look cozy is actually a talent
→ papayaprincess: race paddock? cozy. tennis? cozy. airport? probably cozy.
→ orange4ever: they're committed to the aesthetic
f1gossipdaily: they genuinely look like they've forgotten they're famous 😭
→ lan4ever: that's what makes these moments so sweet
papayahq: okay but can we appreciate how HAPPY they both look lately 🥹
→ f1updates: it's written all over their faces
→ orangeobsession: they're glowing
lanmeliehub: if they keep being this cute i'm sending them my therapy bill 😭
→ papayagirl: SAME
--------------
The rhythm had long since passed the point of gentle pacing, dissolving into a raw, exhausting intensity that had been driving them both crazy for the better part of two hours. Lando was pounding into her with straight, unyielding force, his strong hands locked completely around her hips to anchor her against the mattress while every single slamming impact sent the heavy wooden headboard rattling rhythmically against the hotel room wall. Amelie had her eyes squeezed tightly shut, her fingers clawing desperately into the damp sheets beneath her as the relentless, friction-filled depth of him pushed her entirely past the brink of sanity.
A sharp, completely broken cry tore from the back of her throat as her internal walls suddenly clamped down around him in a series of violent, crushing spasms, her body shuddering under the weight of a devastating orgasm. The intense, pulsing heat of her release squeezing his shaft was the absolute breaking point for Lando; he let out a low, animalistic groan, his muscles locking up entirely as he drove himself as deep as humanly possible, coming hard inside the latex barrier at the exact same moment she did.
The frantic energy in the room completely evaporated, leaving nothing but the sound of their heavy, ragged breathing echoing against the walls as Lando slowly collapsed onto her chest, his entire body trembling from exhaustion. He shifted his weight slightly so he wouldn't crush her, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss against her damp shoulder before moving up to capture her swollen lips in a quiet, deeply affectionate connection. Amelie let out a soft, contented sigh, her hands moving lazily up his arms to slide through his wet curls, gently pushing the sweaty strands away from his forehead while they both tried to catch their breath.
—I love you,— Lando murmured against her mouth, his voice incredibly thick and raspy from the physical exertion.
—I love you too,— she whispered back, a beautiful, entirely spent smile breaking across her flushed face as she gave the back of his neck one final, gentle squeeze.
Lando let out a slow breath and carefully slid out of her soaking wet heat, rolling over to flop heavily onto his back right beside her on the messy sheets. He immediately reached out with one arm, pulling Amelie tightly against his side so that she could rest her head comfortably on his bare chest, both of them still completely covered in a thin layer of sweat that gleamed in the dim lighting of the hotel room. He reached down with his free hand, carefully stripping the condom off his length and tying it in a neat knot before leaning over the edge of the mattress to toss it precisely into the small trashcan resting beside the nightstand.
Amelie watched the movement with an amused smirk, her fingers absentmindedly tracing small, lazy patterns across the tight skin of his stomach.
—You know,— she murmured, her voice carrying a heavy note of playful exhaustion, —the cleaning people in this hotel must genuinely hate our guts by now.—
Lando let out a low, breathless chuckle, the vibration chest-rumbling beneath her cheek as he turned his head to look down at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
—Honestly, I don't think the housekeeping staff hates us half as much as our next-door neighbors probably do right now,— he joked back, gesturing vaguely toward the wall that had been vibrating against the headboard for the last two hours. —I'm pretty sure they're going to file a noise complaint at the front desk before the night is even over.—
Amelie burst into a soft laugh, rolling her eyes affectionately at his ridiculous pride before he let out a long stretch, his muscles flexing beneath her touch.
—Are you hungry?— he asked gently, his thumb running slow circles over her bare shoulder. —Because I feel like I just ran a full race distance, and I desperately need to put some calories back into my system.—
—Starving,— she agreed completely, but instead of staying wrapped up in the covers, she suddenly sat up, entirely unbothered by her bare, naked body as she shifted her weight on the mattress. She turned gracefully onto all fours, crawling slowly over his lap with a wicked, deliberate slowness that had Lando’s eyes darkening instantly as he watched the fluid movement of her spine. She leaned down, pressing a slow, completely teasing kiss against his lips, before offering him a beautiful, triumphant smile. —I am going to take a long shower. You can take care of ordering the room service while I’m in there.—
She backed off his lap and stood up from the bed without a single shred of hesitation, her hips moving sensually with every slow, deliberate step she took across the carpet toward the bathroom. Lando propped himself up on his elbows, his jaw practically dropping as his eyes tracked the stunning curve of her waist and the perfect view of her bare ass disappearing behind the frosted glass door.
He let his head fall back against the pillows with a breathless, disbelieving laugh, running a hand through his messy curls as he reached for the hotel phone on the nightstand. Fuck, Lando knew without a single doubt in his mind that he was the absolute luckiest, luckiest bastard in the entire world.
The bathroom door finally clicked open nearly twenty minutes later, allowing a cloud of warm steam to drift lazily into the suite.
Amelie stepped out, freshly showered, her damp hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders. She had slipped into one of Lando's oversized navy T-shirts, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs while the familiar scent of his detergent and cologne clung to the fabric. Her cheeks still carried the soft pink warmth left behind by the shower, and she absentmindedly rubbed a towel through the ends of her hair as she crossed the bedroom.
Lando looked up from his phone almost immediately.
He hadn't moved much in the twenty minutes she'd been gone. Still sitting against the headboard with one leg stretched across the mattress and the other bent comfortably beneath the duvet, he remained exactly where she'd left him, his curls still damp with sweat and falling messily across his forehead. His attention had been split between replying to a few messages, confirming the room service order, and absentmindedly scrolling while waiting for her to finish.
The moment he saw her step into the bedroom, however, the phone ceased to exist.
A slow smile spread across his face as he lowered it onto his lap without even realizing he'd stopped reading whatever had been on the screen. There was something about seeing Amelie freshly showered, wearing one of his oversized T-shirts, that somehow managed to undo him every single time. The shirt was unmistakably his, hanging loosely over her frame and nearly swallowing her hands with sleeves that were much too long.
Lando caught her lingering glance almost instantly, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smug grin as he lowered his phone onto the duvet.
—You know,— he said, tilting his head with obvious satisfaction, —you could just take a picture. It'd last longer.—
Amelie stopped mid-step before letting out an incredulous laugh.
—You're impossible.—
She reached the bed and gave his shoulder a playful shove, making him deliberately exaggerate the movement until he flopped dramatically onto his side with an offended gasp.
—I was assaulted,— he declared, placing a hand over his chest. —Right here in a five-star hotel.—
—You'll survive.—
—I don't know... that looked pretty aggressive.—
She rolled her eyes so dramatically it made him laugh out loud.
Still chuckling, Lando pushed himself upright and stretched, every muscle protesting after the long day. He ran both hands through his unruly curls before wandering toward the dresser where a neatly folded pile of clothes waited for him.
—I should probably shower before dinner,— he said, grabbing a clean T-shirt and a pair of lounge shorts. —Room service has to be almost here, though.—
He glanced back over his shoulder.
—Please don't start eating without me.—
Amelie placed a hand over her heart in mock offense.
—Never.—
—Promise?—
—I promise.—
Satisfied, he crossed the room until he stood directly in front of her.
—Good.—
He leaned down, brushing a slow, affectionate kiss across her lips before resting his forehead against hers for a brief second.
—I won't be long.—
—I know.—
Lando disappeared into the bathroom with one last smile over his shoulder, the door clicking softly shut behind him before the sound of running water gradually filled the suite. Amelie remained standing exactly where he had kissed her goodbye, absentmindedly touching her lips for the briefest moment before shaking her head with a fond smile. It never seemed to matter how many years passed; he still found the smallest excuses to steal one more kiss before walking away, as though leaving a room without one simply wasn't an option.
She wandered toward the bedroom door, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet beneath the oversized navy T-shirt that almost reached the middle of her thighs. The suite was wonderfully quiet again, interrupted only by the muffled shower running behind the bathroom door and the distant sounds of London filtering faintly through the windows. Reaching for the handle, she pulled the bedroom door open and immediately found exactly who she had expected.
Charlie.
The golden retriever puppy had eventually surrendered sometime during the night after his determined campaign of scratching, whining, and dramatically throwing himself against the bedroom door had failed. They'd been working patiently on teaching him that bedtime meant sleeping in his own little bed in the sitting room rather than insisting on squeezing himself between them. Tonight, he'd curled himself into a perfect golden ball inside his plush dog bed, his nose tucked beneath one paw while he dozed peacefully.
The second the bedroom door opened, one floppy ear twitched.
Then both eyes snapped open.
Within a heartbeat Charlie was on his feet, his tail wagging with such force that his entire back half seemed incapable of remaining still. He bounded across the carpet with an excited little bark, practically launching himself toward Amelie before skidding to a stop just in front of her, looking up with the unmistakable expression of a puppy convinced he'd been abandoned for several years rather than one evening.
Amelie laughed immediately.
She crouched down just enough to scratch both sides of his neck as Charlie enthusiastically leaned into every bit of affection, his tail continuing to whip back and forth against the floor.
—Good morning to you too,— she giggled. —You're so dramatic, do you know that? We were only in there sleeping.—
Charlie responded by pressing his nose against her hand as though he disagreed entirely with that assessment.
She smiled down at him before another thought crossed her mind.
—Are you hungry?—
The reaction was instantaneous.
Charlie's head shot up, his ears perked forward, and before she had even finished the sentence he spun around and sprinted toward the kitchen area, nails clicking rapidly across the hardwood floor. He came to an abrupt stop beside his food bowls, looking back at her expectantly before looking down at the empty bowl, then back at her again, his tail wagging harder than ever.
Amelie burst into laughter.
—I knew it! I hadn't even finished asking!—
Charlie let out one eager little bark, convinced he had interpreted the conversation perfectly.
Still smiling, she crossed into the kitchenette where Lando had already left Charlie's food container beside the counter. She measured out his dinner into the stainless-steel bowl before setting it down on the floor.
—There you go, handsome.—
Charlie didn't need a second invitation.
He immediately buried his nose into the bowl with complete concentration, his tail continuing to sway happily behind him as though eating dinner were the greatest privilege he'd ever been granted.
Amelie watched him for a moment, smiling to herself before quietly retreating toward the living area of the suite.
The oversized sofa practically invited her to collapse onto it.
She flopped down sideways with a contented sigh, tucking one leg beneath herself before spotting Lando's MacBook resting neatly on the coffee table. He'd probably been using it earlier before switching to his phone while she'd showered. Without thinking much of it, she reached over and pulled it onto her lap.
She cracked the screen open, intending to casually browse the internet or look for a movie they could put on while eating room service, but the moment the display came to life, her fingers froze completely over the trackpad. Her breath hitched in her throat as her eyes rapidly scanned the active browser window Lando had left completely open, revealing a page she had never, in her wildest dreams, expected to see on his computer.
Lando hadn't just been browsing a standard jewelry website; the screen was explicitly parked right on the exclusive engagement rings catalog of a high-end designer boutique based directly in Monaco. Amelie felt a sudden wave of heat rush to her face, her chest tightening with an overwhelming mix of shock and pure disbelief as she stared at the rows of sparkling diamonds and detailed platinum bands.
Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs as she leaned in closer, checking the exact filters he had selected, realizing with a jolt that he had actively been narrowing down specific carat sizes and custom cuts for weeks. She couldn't even process the absolute gravity of what she was looking at, her mind spinning in a chaotic loop.
The sudden, sharp sound of the bathroom door unlocking tore her violently out of her trace before she could even scroll any further down the luxury webpage.
Amelie reacted on pure, panicked instinct, abruptly slamming the MacBook shut with a loud snap and frantically sliding it back onto the coffee table in the exact position it had been resting only seconds before. She forced herself to sit upright on the cushions, smoothing down the front of Lando's oversized navy t-shirt while trying to control her shallow breathing just as her boyfriend emerged from the steamy room.
Lando trotted out into the living area with a fresh white towel hung loosely over his shoulders, wearing only his clean grey lounge shorts while his damp curls stuck out in every direction.
—Hey, I seriously hope you haven't started eating all the good stuff without me,— he called out with a lazy, boyish grin, though his expression shifted into immediate confusion when he noticed her completely frozen posture on the sofa. He walked over slowly, his bare feet sinking into the carpet as his eyes scanned her wide, startled expression. —Ames? Everything alright? You look like you've just seen a ghost or something.—
—Yeah… yeah, everything is completely perfect,— Amelie stammered a little too quickly, forcing a tight smile as she nodded her head to reassure him.
Lando didn't question the sudden shift, simply attributing her quietness to the absolute exhaustion of their previous two hours together. He flopped down heavily onto the plush sofa right next to her, immediately wrapping his strong arms around her waist and pulling her back against his chest with that extra touchy, affectionate neediness that always took over his body right after they had sex.
He buried his face into the crook of her neck, pressing a series of slow, warm kisses against her skin before moving up to trail his lips softly over her bare shoulder, completely content to hold her close while they waited for dinner. Amelie stayed perfectly still against him, her mind completely short-circuiting as she stared blankly at the wall ahead, the single, terrifyingly beautiful thought repeating in her head.
I know I haven't been the best at sticking to my posting schedule lately, and I'm so sorry about that 😭 I swear I'm going to try to do better this semester.
The good news is that I've already finished not only today's chapter (Wimbledon 👀🎾), but also the next one, which is set during the football match that literally everyone has been asking me to write. ⚽️🤍
I'm honestly so excited for you guys to read both of them, especially the football one because I've been looking forward to writing that chapter for so long.
Thank you so much for always being so patient with me, and for continuing to read and support this story. It truly means the world to me. 💌 And as always, my requests are always open! 🫶
I just saw Landos nieces are at Silverstone this weekend so maybe we see Amelie walking/carrying/any kind of interaction with them at some point🥺
hii love 🥹🤍
The moment I saw Lando's nieces were at Silverstone, I knew I had to include them 😭🫶
So I actually added some really cute little interactions between Amelie and the girls in the last chapter. I thought it was such a sweet opportunity to show her auntie side. 🤍
In case you missed it, I'll leave the link to the chapter down below!
Thank you so much for reading, for the request, and for always sending me such lovely ideas. 💌 As always, my requests are always open! 🫶
💬 1 🔁 4 ❤️ 128 · gonna get this · Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman
Summary: It follows Lando and Amelie during a high-stakes race Sunday at S
Are we going to see more Auntie Amelia because Landon's nieces are at Silverstone
hii girl 🫶🤍
I actually included some more Auntie Amelie moments in the last chapter!! 🥹 I thought it was the perfect opportunity with Lando’s nieces being at Silverstone, and I loved writing that side of their relationship.
In case you missed it, I’ll leave the link to the chapter down below! 🤍
Thank you so much for reading and for the request, I always love seeing you guys wanting more of these little moments. 💌
💬 1 🔁 4 ❤️ 125 · gonna get this · Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman
Summary: It follows Lando and Amelie during a high-stakes race Sunday at S
Summary: It follows Lando and Amelie during a high-stakes race Sunday at Silverstone, where the overwhelming energy of his home Grand Prix serves as a backdrop for deep personal growth and reflection.
Wordcount: 14.9 k
Warnings: none
full masterlist // request over here!
July 5th, 2026 - Northamptonshire, United Kingdom
liked by papayahq, f1fashion, and others
paddockwags: Amelie spotted making her way around the Silverstone paddock ahead of today's race. 💛✨
View all 779 comments
papayagirl: SHE MATCHED TODAY'S LANDOSTAND COLOR 😭💛
→ lan4ever: she understood the assignment
→ orange4ever: she's one of us at this point
landostandhq: YESTERDAY PAPAYA. TODAY FLUO YELLOW. OH SHE PLANNED THIS.
→ gridgirlie: every outfit has a purpose
amelieupdates: butter yellow is SO her color 🥹
→ amesdefender: she looks gorgeous every single time
→ f1fashion: obsessed with this look
lanmeliehub: she's literally color coordinating with HIS grandstand 😭
→ papayaprincess: your honor they're so annoying
→ orangegrid: respectfully never stop
f1updates: i just know the landostand fans are losing it seeing her walk by in yellow 💛
orangeobsession: yesterday she matched McLaren... today she matches Lando 🥹
→ papayahq: stop i'm emotional already
→ papayagirl: race hasn't even started 😭
f1gossipdaily: she's actually so intentional with her outfits
landostandbrazil: SHE'S SUPPORTING THE YELLOW DAY 😭💛
→ lanmeliehub: honorary landostander
→ papayagirl: president of the fan club honestly
ameliecentral: the soft yellow with silverstone sunshine??? CHEF'S KISS
→ f1fashion: literally glowing
gridgirlie: imagine being one of the fans in yellow and seeing Amelie walk in matching colors 😭
→ lan4ever: i'd think i won the lottery
→ orangegrid: core memory unlocked
papayahq: first the championship jacket now THIS???
→ detectiveera: every day there's a new development
orange4ever: she's committed to the bit and i respect it
→ papayagirl: what bit?? that's her LIFE 😭
→ lanmeliehub: exactly
f1fashion: can we talk about how she NEVER misses with race day fits
→ paddockwags: genuinely one of the best dressed in the paddock
papayaprincess: if Lando wins today i'm blaming the lucky outfit 💛
→ lan4life: DON'T JINX IT
f1updates: silverstone has officially become Amelie's runway every year
→ gridgirlie: and i happily tune in every time
→ papayahq: race weekend? no, fashion week.
lanmeliehub: okay but imagine the podium photos if she's still wearing yellow 😭
→ papayagirl: STOP I'M MANIFESTING
f1detectives: no papaya today because she knew the grandstand was going fluorescent yellow... that's actually so cute
→ detectiveera: the attention to detail 😭
→ lan4ever: she always notices the little things
amesnation: she's literally dressing for HIS fans today and nobody can convince me otherwise
→ orangegrid: that's the sweetest part honestly
--------------
The black SUV rolled steadily through the restricted service roads surrounding Silverstone, weaving carefully between marshals, security vehicles, and television trucks as it made its way toward the Landostand entrance. Through the tinted windows, Amelie caught flashes of the drivers' parade happening across the circuit, colorful LEGO-inspired go-karts slowly making their way around the track while thousands of fans laughed and cheered from every grandstand. Somewhere out there, Lando had abandoned the parade only a few minutes earlier after McLaren's media team informed him another interview had been scheduled directly in front of the Landostand before the race.
Charlie sat upright beside her on the leather seat, practically vibrating with excitement every time another crowd came into view outside the window. His little helmet-inspired harness matched Lando's helmet design perfectly, and every few seconds he planted his front paws against the door to peer outside before dropping back into Amelie's lap again. She smiled, smoothing one hand over his golden ears while the bodyguard seated opposite them received another message through his earpiece.
—Almost there,— he informed her with a polite smile. —Lando specifically asked me not to lose you on the way.—
Amelie laughed quietly.
—I appreciate the confidence he has in me.—
—He didn't sound concerned about you,— the guard admitted honestly. —He sounded concerned about Charlie finding someone to steal food from before the photo.—
Charlie blinked innocently.
Neither of them believed that expression for even a second.
The SUV finally slowed before pulling beside the temporary entrance reserved exclusively for team personnel. Even before the engine stopped, the roar outside became unmistakable. Thousands upon thousands of voices blended into one enormous wall of sound that somehow managed to shake the air itself. It wasn't the constant roar of race cars. It was people. All chanting. All singing. All waiting.
The bodyguard stepped out first before opening Amelie's door, immediately shielding both her and Charlie from the surrounding activity while she carefully climbed down onto the pavement. She wore a fitted pale yellow sleeveless top tucked neatly into a denim skirt, paired with pale yellow heels that somehow survived the uneven paddock roads far better than anyone expected. Charlie bounced excitedly onto the ground beside her the moment his paws touched the asphalt, tail wagging furiously while she clipped the leash securely into place.
Amelie barely had time to straighten the hem of her skirt before the sound truly reached her. It wasn't just loud. It was overwhelming. The Landostand rose above everything else in a sea of fluorescent yellow, every single seat occupied by someone dressed exactly as Lando had requested for Sunday's "Fluor Day." From a distance, it almost looked like someone had poured liquid sunshine over an entire grandstand. Flags waved constantly, banners stretched across railings, homemade signs bounced above heads, and every few seconds another chorus of "LAN-DO! LAN-DO! LAN-DO!" rolled across the circuit with enough force to make the temporary structures vibrate.
Standing on a small stage positioned directly in front of the grandstand, Lando somehow looked both completely at home and completely overwhelmed by the sight behind him. Dressed in his team kit and holding a microphone, he smiled while answering questions from Natalie Pinkham, though every few seconds his eyes instinctively drifted back toward the thousands of supporters filling every single seat. Even after becoming World Champion, even after winning here the year before, it clearly hadn't become normal.
Natalie gestured toward the enormous wall of fluorescent yellow behind them with an impressed laugh, almost needing to raise her voice above the chants.
—I mean... just look at this! It's even bigger than last year. Every single person understood the assignment today. Fluor yellow everywhere. Did you expect it to look quite like this?—
Lando turned halfway around, taking another look at the grandstand before rubbing the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile.
—I honestly don't think you can prepare yourself for something like this. Every year I tell myself I'll be ready, and then I come around the corner and... this happens.— He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. —It's unbelievably bright. Like... ridiculously bright. I don't think I've ever seen this much fluorescent yellow gathered in one place before.—
The crowd immediately erupted into cheers again, waving flags even harder after hearing his reaction. Lando pointed toward them with a grin before placing one hand over his heart in an unmistakable gesture of gratitude.
—Seriously though, thank you. Every single person who's here today... thank you so much. I know people travel from all over the world for this weekend, and seeing this many of you here wearing my colors... it's difficult to put into words. It's honestly one of the coolest feelings I've ever experienced.—
Natalie smiled warmly before shifting the conversation toward the race waiting only a few hours away.
—Home Grand Prix. World Champion. A grandstand completely sold out behind you. I have to ask... how are the nerves today?—
Lando let out a breath through his nose before glancing toward the circuit stretching out beyond the interview stage.
—I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. You can't stand here and not feel something. This is home. Everyone's here. Family, friends, fans... it's a lot. But it's the good kind of pressure. It's the pressure you dream about having when you're a kid watching Formula One on television.—
Natalie nodded knowingly.
—And what result are you hoping to give all these people today?—
Lando didn't hesitate.
—I don't really want to accept anything except a win today.—
The reaction from the Landostand was instantaneous.
An explosion of screams, whistles, and applause rolled across the grandstand with such intensity that Natalie instinctively laughed, momentarily lowering her microphone while the noise completely swallowed the interview. Flags whipped through the air, people jumped from their seats, and thousands of fluorescent yellow shirts bounced together in celebration of the confidence their driver had just shown.
Lando laughed at the response, lifting both hands as if trying to calm them down despite clearly enjoying every second of it.
—We'll see! We'll see!— he called over the cheers, still laughing. —Maybe that's a bit unrealistic... but we'll try our best. That's all we can promise. We'll give absolutely everything we've got today and hopefully put on a really good show for everyone to enjoy.
The applause settled into another round of chanting just as Natalie glanced beyond the television cameras toward the service entrance.
Her smile widened immediately.
—Well... it's getting warmer, the sun's finally decided to join us... and I think someone else has just arrived.—
Lando instinctively followed her gaze.
The moment he spotted Amelie stepping away from the black SUV with Charlie excitedly trotting beside her, his entire expression softened into that unmistakable smile reserved only for her. She hadn't approached the stage yet, instead quietly positioning herself several meters away while clipping Charlie's leash securely into place. Charlie's tail wagged furiously at the unfamiliar excitement around him while Amelie waved shyly toward the grandstand, immediately earning another wave of cheers from fans who had begun noticing her arrival.
Natalie laughed into her microphone.
—I think the crowd spotted her before we did.—
Amelie smiled sheepishly, lifting her free hand once more toward the stands while Charlie enthusiastically attempted to wave with his entire body.
Natalie looked back toward Lando.
—Can you actually feel the energy coming from all these people? Because from where I'm standing, it's unbelievable.—
Lando looked from the grandstand to Amelie waiting nearby before slowly nodding.
—I can. Every second of it.— His voice softened noticeably. —It's honestly beautiful. I'm incredibly lucky. Not just because of everyone sitting behind me today... but because I get to share weekends like this with the people I love. My family being here... my friends... my partner... all the fans who've supported me for years. I don't think I'll ever stop appreciating it.—
Natalie smiled knowingly, sensing there wasn't much left to add after that answer.
—I think that's the perfect place to leave it. Best of luck today, Lando. Enjoy every second of it.—
—Thank you very much.—
Lando handed the microphone back to one of the waiting crew members before thanking Natalie once more, immediately earning another deafening roar from the Landostand as he stepped away from the interview stage. A member of his media team hurried over carrying a T-shirt launcher, already loaded and ready to go, and Lando accepted it with the grin of someone who knew exactly what was coming next.
The moment he lifted the launcher over one shoulder, the entire grandstand somehow became even louder. Thousands of fluorescent yellow shirts bounced in unison while chants of his name echoed around the circuit. Homemade signs waved frantically above heads, children climbed onto their parents' shoulders, and every person within range suddenly stretched both arms toward the sky, hoping to catch one of the limited-edition shirts.
—Alright!— Lando shouted with a laugh, aiming the launcher toward the upper rows. —Let's wake everyone up!—
With a satisfying thump, the first rolled-up shirt rocketed through the air, disappearing into the sea of waving hands before immediately being followed by another eruption of cheers. Lando laughed so hard he nearly missed loading the second one, deliberately aiming toward another section that had begun chanting even louder after being ignored the first time.
Several meters away, Natalie removed her earpiece while one of the production assistants wrapped a cable around her microphone. Spotting Amelie still waiting patiently with Charlie beside her, she smiled warmly before walking over through the controlled chaos surrounding the stage.
—Hi, you,— Natalie greeted cheerfully.
Amelie smiled just as warmly.
—Hi, Natalie. Good to see you again.—
They exchanged a quick hug before both instinctively turned their attention back toward Lando, who had somehow convinced the crowd that launching T-shirts required just as much celebration as winning a race. Every successful catch earned another explosion of applause while he pointed toward lucky fans as though personally congratulating them.
Natalie couldn't help laughing.
—I swear... every year I think this can't possibly get any bigger, and then somehow he proves me wrong.— She shook her head in disbelief while looking up at the enormous fluorescent wall behind them. —This is absolutely mental.—
Amelie followed her gaze, taking in thousands upon thousands of people dressed almost identically beneath the bright summer sunshine.
—It really is,— she admitted softly, unable to hide the pride in her voice. —Last year already felt unbelievable, and somehow this one feels twice as big. I don't know how he processes any of it.—
Natalie glanced sideways at her with a knowing smile.
—I imagine watching someone you love build something like this must be pretty special.—
Amelie's eyes drifted back toward Lando again as another shirt disappeared into the crowd, immediately followed by another chorus of excited screams.
—It's... hard to explain,— she admitted quietly. —I've seen every version of him. The kid who doubted himself. The guy wondering if he'd ever win one race. Now this... it still feels surreal sometimes.—
Natalie's smile softened.
—I can only imagine how proud you must be watching him stand there today. Not just as World Champion... but seeing all these people show up because they genuinely adore him.—
Amelie looked toward the grandstand again, her expression impossibly fond.
—I am proud,— she answered honestly. —More than I probably tell him. He works harder than anyone realizes, and seeing all of this happen because people genuinely believe in him... it's really beautiful.—
Natalie's eyes moved from the pale yellow top to the denim skirt before she let out an amused little laugh, tilting her head as though she'd just solved a mystery.
—Hang on... you're not wearing papaya today.—
Amelie looked down at herself for a second before smiling sheepishly.
—I know.—
Natalie folded her arms, clearly entertained.
—I'm shocked. Usually you're the unofficial McLaren merchandise model by Sunday.—
Amelie laughed, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear before glancing back toward the glowing grandstand where thousands of fluorescent shirts shimmered beneath the midday sun. The pale yellow fabric of her top caught the light in almost the same way, blending surprisingly well with the sea of color stretching across the Landostand.
—I had to make one exception,— she admitted with a grin. —Yesterday I was completely dressed in orange because today was always supposed to be fluorescent day. This felt... close enough to the theme without looking like I lost a fight with a highlighter.—
Natalie laughed so hard she had to briefly cover her mouth with one hand, her gaze moving between Amelie's soft butter-yellow top and the enormous fluorescent grandstand glowing behind them.
—I think you found the compromise,— she teased warmly. —You coordinated without committing entirely to retina damage.—
Amelie laughed, shaking her head.
—I left the retina damage to them.—
She nodded toward the Landostand, where thousands of supporters practically shimmered beneath the afternoon sun.
—I figured somebody had to provide a softer version of yellow today.—
Natalie smiled approvingly.
—Fashion and strategy. I respect it.—
They both turned their attention back toward Lando just as he fired another T-shirt into one of the highest rows, immediately pumping his fist when a young fan managed to catch it cleanly. The entire section exploded into cheers while Lando pointed directly toward them, laughing so hard he nearly forgot to reload the launcher.
Watching him like that, completely relaxed for those few minutes between media obligations and the biggest race of his season, made Amelie's heart swell. Beneath all the pressure, all the expectations, he still looked like the same boy who got excited over making strangers smile.
Natalie noticed the expression immediately.
—He's different here,— she observed quietly, almost thoughtfully. —Every driver has a home race, but this... this feels personal for him.—
Amelie nodded without taking her eyes off him.
—It is.—
Her voice remained soft.
—Silverstone isn't just another circuit. It's where he remembers being a little kid sitting in the grandstands dreaming about Formula One. Now he's standing in front of one filled entirely with people wearing his colors. I don't think anyone really prepares for something like that.—
Natalie followed her gaze toward the bright wall of fluorescent yellow stretching into the distance.
—It must be incredibly emotional seeing him live through something he imagined for so many years.—
Amelie smiled to herself.
—I don't think he's fully realized it yet. He's still so focused on performing that sometimes he forgets to actually look around and enjoy what he's already built.—
Natalie nodded slowly.
—That's probably why he needs people like you reminding him.—
Amelie looked away from the grandstand for a second, offering a small, almost bashful smile.
—I just try to make sure he remembers to breathe every now and then.—
Charlie, apparently deciding the conversation had become insufficiently centered around him, let out an impatient little bark before sitting proudly between both women, tail sweeping enthusiastically across the asphalt.
Natalie immediately laughed.
—I think someone disagrees.—
Amelie bent slightly to scratch behind Charlie's ears.
—He thinks every conversation should include him.—
—I mean... he's probably right.—
Charlie accepted the compliment with obvious satisfaction, his tail somehow wagging even faster while nearby photographers couldn't resist snapping several pictures of the tiny retriever wearing his miniature helmet-inspired harness.
A sudden roar erupted from the grandstand.
Both women instinctively looked up.
Lando had finally emptied the launcher and now stood directly in front of the Landostand with both arms stretched dramatically out to either side, soaking in every second of the deafening applause. Thousands of fluorescent flags waved back at him while chants rolled continuously through the summer air.
He slowly turned his head.
Almost immediately, his eyes found Amelie.
The enormous grin already spread across his face somehow widened even further.
Without saying a word, he lifted one hand and crooked his fingers toward himself in the unmistakable universal gesture for come here.
Amelie laughed.
—I think I'm being summoned.—
Natalie smiled knowingly.
—I don't think you've got much choice.—
Charlie was already trying to trot in Lando's direction before Amelie even reached for him.
—Hang on, mister.—
She carefully bent down, scooping the excited retriever into her arms before straightening again. Charlie immediately rested both front paws over her shoulder, happily watching the growing crowd around them while Amelie carefully made her way across the open area toward Lando.
The closer she came, the louder the cheers seemed to become.
Fans near the front barriers immediately noticed her approaching, waving enthusiastically while several people called her name. Amelie smiled warmly, lifting one hand in greeting while Charlie enthusiastically wagged his tail at practically everyone within sight.
Lando waited until she reached him before naturally stepping closer, one arm immediately sliding around her waist as though it belonged there.
—Ready?— he asked quietly.
She smiled up at him.
—Always.—
One of McLaren's photographers raised a camera from only a few meters away.
—Right here, guys!—
Lando turned toward the camera first, his arm remaining comfortably around Amelie while she shifted Charlie slightly higher against her chest. Behind them stretched an unforgettable backdrop: thousands of supporters dressed in fluorescent yellow, waving flags beneath the bright English sunshine.
—Beautiful!— the photographer called.
Lando smiled broadly.
Amelie smiled beside him.
Charlie looked somewhere completely different.
The shutter clicked repeatedly, capturing the moment from every possible angle while the crowd behind them erupted into another chorus of cheers simply because they were standing there together.
When the photographer finally lowered the camera with a satisfied grin, Lando gently scratched beneath Charlie's chin before reaching down to clip the leash back into his harness.
—Your turn to walk,— he told the puppy.
Charlie happily accepted the promotion, immediately hopping back onto the ground before proudly marching a few steps ahead as though personally leading the procession.
Lando wrapped the leash comfortably around one hand.
With the other, he instinctively reached for Amelie's.
Their fingers intertwined without either of them even looking.
Together they began walking back toward the waiting black SUV, Charlie confidently leading the way while the Landostand continued chanting behind them. Lando glanced sideways at Amelie for just a moment, smiling quietly before giving her hand the smallest squeeze.
She squeezed back.
Neither of them needed to say anything.
The race was only hours away.
But for one brief walk beneath the July sunshine, surrounded by thousands of people who believed in him, everything felt exactly where it belonged.
--------------
liked by f1updates, papayaprincess, and others
lanmeliehub: Amelie was spotted walking through the Silverstone paddock hand in hand with Mila and Athena today. 🥹💛
The girls looked so excited to be with her, and honestly... our hearts can't handle how naturally she fits right in with the Norris family.
The cutest paddock trio of race day. 🫶
View all 803 comments
papayagirl: SHE'S HOLDING BOTH OF THEIR HANDS I'M ACTUALLY SOBBING 😭💛
→ lan4ever: i can't do this today
→ orange4ever: race hasn't even started and i'm emotional
gridgirlie: the girls look SO happy with her 🥹
→ papayahq: they were literally skipping next to her
→ lanmeliehub: stop i'm gonna cry
amelieupdates: they adore her and it shows 😭
→ amesdefender: kids never fake who they like
f1updates: the way neither of the girls wanted to let go of her hand 🥹
→ papayahq: my heart physically hurts
→ orange4ever: they're so attached to her
landostandhq: imagine looking over and seeing Amelie walking around with Lando's nieces 😭💛
→ papayagirl: i'd simply pass away
→ lanmeliehub: core memory honestly
f1gossipdaily: the Norris girls have officially adopted her 😭
papayaprincess: i just know Mila was telling Amelie the most random story ever 😭
→ lan4ever: and Amelie was absolutely listening
→ gridgirlie: she always does 🥹
ameliecentral: silverstone really is her second home now huh 🥹
→ papayahq: the Norris family basically claimed her years ago
f1detectives: this is my favorite paddock content every year
→ detectiveera: forget the cars GIVE ME FAMILY CONTENT
→ papayagirl: exactly 😭
orangeobsession: someone tell me why this made me more emotional than the couple photos
→ lanmeliehub: because it's so natural 🥹
→ f1updates: nothing feels forced with them
gridgirlie: accidental color coordination strikes again
→ orange4ever: they're literally sunshine
amesnation: Amelie has the biggest "safe adult" energy 🥹
→ papayaprincess: the girls always run straight to her
f1fangirl99: the way Athena wouldn't stop looking up at her while they walked 😭
→ orangegrid: STOP I'M TOO SOFT FOR THIS
→ papayahq: she looked so proud holding her hand
lanmeliehub: i just know Lando saw this and smiled somewhere in the paddock 😭
→ papayagirl: don't make me imagine that
orange4ever: this family content heals something in me 🥹
→ lan4ever: same honestly
→ f1updates: silverstone always brings out the softest moments
papayagirl: imagine being a fan at the track and randomly seeing this trio walk past 😭
→ orangeobsession: i'd forget why i even came
gridgirlie: every year she gets closer with his family and every year i become more unwell 😭
→ papayahq: the lore keeps expanding
→ papayaprincess: we've been here for YEARS and it still gets me every time
--------------
The motorhome had grown noticeably quieter as the final hour before the race approached, the earlier bustle giving way to the focused calm that always settled over Formula One teams before lights out. Engineers disappeared into meeting rooms, mechanics made their final trips toward the garage, and conversations throughout the hospitality area naturally dropped into softer voices, everyone aware of the significance of what lay ahead.
Inside Lando's driver's room, however, the atmosphere couldn't have been more different.
Amelie sat comfortably on the carpeted floor with her back resting against the lower edge of the cream-colored sofa, her legs stretched loosely in front of her while sunlight poured through the narrow window beside the door. Charlie lay happily on his back in the middle of the room, looking entirely pleased with himself as four tiny hands continuously reached toward him from opposite sides.
Mila sat cross-legged directly in front of him, carefully scratching beneath his chin with all the seriousness of someone carrying out a very important responsibility. Beside her, little Athena giggled uncontrollably every time Charlie's tail thumped enthusiastically against the carpet or his tongue reached out to give someone's fingers an unexpected lick.
The puppy had clearly decided this was the greatest moment of his entire existence.
Every few seconds he rolled slightly from one side onto the other, making absolutely certain neither little girl felt left out of the attention distribution.
—I think he likes tummy rubs,— Athena announced confidently, rubbing slow circles across Charlie's stomach.
Mila nodded with equal confidence.
—Because he's smiling.—
Charlie let out a happy little sigh that sounded suspiciously like agreement.
Amelie smiled from her place against the sofa, quietly watching the three of them together. Earlier that morning Savannah had tried convincing both girls to stay in the hospitality suite while everyone prepared for the race, only to be met with immediate protests from both daughters.
Savannah had eventually looked toward Amelie with an expression somewhere between apologetic and amused, clearly realizing she'd already lost the negotiation before it had properly begun.
—I don't know if they want to spend time with you... or your dog,— she had admitted with a laugh.
Amelie had smiled warmly before holding her arms out toward both girls.
—I don't mind either way.—
Mila had answered the question immediately.
—Both!—
Athena had nodded so enthusiastically her little ponytail bounced.
—Charlie... and Melie!—
Savannah had laughed, surrendering completely.
—I suppose that settles it.—
Now, nearly half an hour later, the room echoed with quiet giggles as Charlie patiently endured being declared everything from "the bravest puppy ever" to "an honorary princess," accepting each new title with the unwavering confidence only a golden retriever could possess.
Mila carefully placed one of Charlie's floppy ears over the top of his head before looking toward Amelie with complete seriousness.
—Does he like wearing hats?—
Amelie bit back a smile.
—I don't think he's very fashionable.—
Charlie looked up at her with the deeply offended expression of someone who believed that statement to be entirely unfair.
Athena immediately defended him.
—I think he's beautiful.—
Charlie wagged his tail.
Amelie laughed softly.
—I think he agrees with you.—
The little puppy rolled dramatically onto his other side, stretching all four legs into the air before giving Athena another enthusiastic lick across the fingers. The three-year-old squealed with laughter so loudly that it echoed gently around the otherwise peaceful room.
Mila giggled too, reaching over to scratch beneath Charlie's chin again.
—I wish we could take him home.—
—I think Lala might miss him,— Amelie replied gently.
Athena tilted her head thoughtfully.
—He can come too.—
Amelie laughed.
—I don't think Uncle Lala would fit in your backpack.—
Both girls immediately dissolved into another fit of giggles, apparently picturing exactly that.
The peaceful moment continued uninterrupted until the driver's room door suddenly swung open without warning.
Lando stepped inside still wearing his team hoodie, an his black trousers. His curls looked slightly messier than earlier, and he carried the unmistakable expression of someone who had come looking for exactly one thing before the race: twenty uninterrupted minutes of stretching with Jon and, ideally, a nap involving his favorite person as a pillow.
He barely took two steps into the room before stopping completely.
His eyes immediately landed on the unexpected scene unfolding across the carpet.
Lando blinked once before the corners of his mouth lifted into the softest smile imaginable.
The room in front of him looked nothing like the quiet space he had expected to find before one of the biggest races of his season. Instead, it had somehow transformed into a miniature playroom. Charlie was sprawled across the carpet receiving constant attention, Mila and Athena sat happily chatting away, and Amelie leaned comfortably against the sofa watching all three of them with the relaxed smile she only wore around people she loved. It was so unexpectedly domestic that, for a second, Lando simply stood there taking it all in.
The girls noticed him almost immediately.
—Lala!— they shouted together.
Both of them scrambled to their feet so quickly that Charlie startled for half a second before realizing what was happening. His tail immediately began wagging again as the two little girls hurried across the room toward their uncle, nearly colliding into each other in their excitement.
Lando laughed as he crouched down to their height, opening both arms without hesitation.
—Hello, monkeys.—
Mila wrapped her arms around his neck first while Athena squeezed around his waist from the side, forcing him to laugh even harder as he somehow managed to hug them both at once.
—I missed you,— Athena announced proudly.
—I saw you like... twenty minutes ago,— Lando replied with exaggerated confusion.
—I still missed you.—
He smiled.
—I missed you too.—
After another squeeze, he gently ruffled Mila's hair before looking between the two girls.
—So... what are you two doing in my driver's room?—
Mila answered as though the explanation should have been obvious.
—We're playing with Charlie.—
Athena nodded enthusiastically.
—He's being a good puppy.—
Charlie barked once from the middle of the room, seemingly pleased to contribute to the conversation.
—I can see that,— Lando chuckled.
The girls immediately wandered back toward Charlie, returning to their places on the carpet as though nothing had interrupted their game. Charlie happily rolled back onto his side the second they sat down again, already expecting another round of belly rubs from his tiny fan club.
Lando watched them for another moment before walking farther into the room.
Instead of claiming the sofa like he normally would before his pre-race nap, he lowered himself onto the carpet beside Amelie until their shoulders brushed together. She instinctively leaned lightly against him, neither of them really thinking about it anymore after years of finding comfort in each other's presence.
He looked toward the girls with an amused smile.
—I genuinely thought I'd find you hiding in here by yourself.—
Amelie laughed quietly.
—I thought so too.—
He turned toward her.
—Then why do I suddenly have a daycare in my driver's room?—
She smiled, glancing toward the two little girls who were now attempting to convince Charlie to balance a plush toy on his nose.
—Apparently they wanted to stay with Charlie.—
Lando raised one eyebrow.
—That's the official story?—
She nodded.
—Sav asked if they wanted to stay with her or come with me, and they immediately chose me.—
Lando looked suspicious.
—I refuse to believe that wasn't mostly because of him.—
Amelie pretended to consider the question very seriously before glancing toward Charlie, who was currently receiving enough affection to believe he had become paddock royalty. Mila was carefully smoothing the fur on one side of his face while Athena whispered something into one floppy ear that clearly qualified as top-secret information.
—I think it's about fifty-fifty,— she admitted with a laugh. —Maybe sixty-forty in Charlie's favor.—
Lando gasped dramatically, placing one hand over his chest.
—Brilliant. First my dog replaces me, now my nieces replace you with my dog. He's building quite the résumé.—
She nudged his shoulder gently.
—You're just jealous because he's the favorite Norris.—
—I thought I was at least in the top three.—
—You're fighting for third at the moment.—
Lando narrowed his eyes at her with exaggerated suspicion before leaning sideways without another word, pressing a quick, absentminded kiss against her lips as naturally as if he'd simply reached for a glass of water.
—There,— he said with obvious satisfaction. —That should improve my ranking.—
Amelie smiled into the kiss before pulling back, unable to hide the amused expression spreading across her face.
—I don't think that's how rankings work.—
—I make the rules.—
Before either of them could continue teasing each other, a tiny voice interrupted from the middle of the carpet.
—...Lala?—
Both adults turned simultaneously.
Mila sat cross-legged beside Charlie with her eyebrows pulled together in deep concentration, looking between her uncle and Amelie as though trying to solve a particularly complicated puzzle.
—Why did you kiss Melie?—
Lando blinked once before glancing sideways at Amelie, who had already pressed her lips together to stop herself from laughing. For a second neither of them answered, both silently waiting to see if the other would volunteer an explanation first. Charlie, blissfully unaware that an important family discussion had just begun, rolled onto his back again and stretched dramatically, earning another absentminded tummy rub from Athena while everyone else's attention remained somewhere entirely different.
Lando rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish smile before looking back toward Mila.
—Because... she's my girlfriend.—
Mila slowly nodded as though filing that information away somewhere important, though it clearly raised far more questions than it answered. She looked from Lando to Amelie and then back again, carefully examining both of their faces before speaking once more.
—So... boyfriends kiss girlfriends?—
Lando smiled, choosing his words carefully.
—Sometimes they do. If both people want to, yes.—
Athena tilted her head from beside Charlie, clearly unwilling to be left out of such an important discussion.
—Like Mummy and Daddy?—
—Exactly like Mummy and Daddy,— Amelie answered gently, smiling at the little girl.
Athena looked delighted by the confirmation, immediately returning her attention to Charlie as though that explained absolutely everything.
Mila, however, was nowhere near finished.
She rested both hands on her knees and studied Lando with the unmistakable determination of a five-year-old conducting a very serious interview.
—Do you kiss Melie every day?—
Amelie immediately covered part of her face with one hand, already laughing quietly before Lando even had the chance to answer.
He glanced sideways at her with an expression that practically screamed help me.
She only smiled wider.
—You're on your own.—
Lando sighed dramatically before looking back toward his niece.
—...Usually.—
Mila's eyes widened.
—Every day?—
—Well... we live together,— Lando explained with an awkward laugh. —So yes... most days.—
Athena gasped as though she'd just heard the most romantic thing imaginable.
—That's lots of kisses.—
Lando nodded solemnly, deciding there was no point pretending otherwise anymore.
—It is quite a lot of kisses,— he admitted, earning an amused snort from Amelie beside him. Charlie, meanwhile, chose that exact moment to yawn dramatically, completely unconcerned with the relationship discussion happening only a few feet away from him.
Mila absorbed the information with the seriousness only children seemed capable of. She looked thoughtfully between her uncle and Amelie again before another question immediately appeared in her head.
—Are you going to get married too?—
The room suddenly became very, very quiet.
For a brief second, Lando genuinely forgot how to breathe.
Beside him, Amelie remained blissfully unaware of the tiny earthquake currently happening inside her boyfriend's head. She simply smiled fondly at Mila, assuming it was another innocent childhood question, while Lando very carefully kept his expression neutral despite the fact that his heart had just launched itself into his throat.
He cleared it with exaggerated casualness.
—Maybe one day,— he answered gently. —If we're both very lucky.—
Mila seemed perfectly satisfied with that possibility.
Athena looked up from where she was gently hugging Charlie's neck, her tiny brows knitting together in concentration as she tried to follow the conversation.
—Do people have weddings because they love each other?—
Amelie smiled warmly.
—That's one of the reasons, sweetheart. People get married because they want to spend their lives together. They promise to look after each other and be a family forever.—
Athena considered that for a long moment before nodding with complete certainty.
—That's nice.—
—I think so too,— Amelie replied softly.
Mila, apparently deciding she had become the official interviewer of the room, immediately continued with another question before anyone else had the chance to speak.
—Would Charlie come to your wedding?—
Lando burst into laughter before he could stop himself, the suddenness of it making Charlie lift his head in confusion.
—Oh, absolutely,— he answered without hesitation. —I don't think he'd forgive us if we didn't invite him.—
Amelie looked over at him, smiling.
—He'd probably spend the entire ceremony trying to steal the cake.—
—Or everyone's dinner,— Lando added.
Athena giggled loudly.
—He could wear a bow!—
Charlie thumped his tail enthusiastically against the carpet, apparently approving of this entire plan despite having no idea what any of them were talking about.
Charlie rolled proudly onto his back again, clearly deciding compliments were an acceptable substitute for treats.
Lando watched his nieces happily fuss over the puppy before quietly reaching for Amelie's hand where it rested beside her on the carpet. Their fingers slipped together naturally, almost absentmindedly, while the girls remained completely absorbed in discussing Charlie's hypothetical wedding outfit.
Neither of them commented on it.
Neither of them needed to.
Mila eventually noticed anyway.
Her eyes dropped to their joined hands before immediately looking back up.
—You hold hands lots too.—
Lando glanced down before smiling.
—I suppose we do.—
—Why?—
He shrugged simply.
—Because I like holding her hand.—
Amelie squeezed his fingers lightly.
—I like holding his too.—
Mila nodded again, seemingly pleased with another satisfactory answer.
—Daddy holds Mummy's hand too.—
—He does,— Lando agreed.
—Sometimes when they think nobody's looking,— Athena whispered very dramatically, as though revealing classified family information.
Amelie laughed so hard she had to look away for a second.
Lando leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
—I have a feeling your mum and dad know you're looking anyway.—
The little girls dissolved into giggles, Charlie immediately joining the excitement by bouncing happily to his feet before trotting in excited circles around the small group, convinced something wonderful had just happened.
The happy chaos continued for several more minutes. Mila carefully threw Charlie's favorite plush toy across the room while Athena clapped enthusiastically every single time he proudly retrieved it. Lando and Amelie simply sat side by side, quietly watching the three of them with identical smiles, both thinking the exact same thing without saying it aloud.
The room felt impossibly peaceful.
Outside, one of the biggest races of the season waited only a short time away.
Inside, it felt wonderfully normal.
A gentle knock broke the calm.
Unlike the dramatic entrance Lando had made earlier, this one was polite and unhurried.
The door opened only after a quiet voice called through it.
—Can I come in?—
Oliver stepped into the room with an apologetic smile already on his face. The moment Mila and Athena spotted their father, both girls immediately looked guilty, as though they had somehow forgotten they were supposed to return eventually.
Oliver folded his arms, smiling knowingly.
—I think I've finally found where my daughters disappeared to.—
Mila pointed toward Charlie.
—We were busy.—
—I can see that.—
Athena hurried over first, wrapping both arms around one of Oliver's legs.
—Can we stay longer?—
Oliver looked toward Lando before shaking his head gently.
—I'm afraid Uncle Lala has to start getting ready now. Jon's probably already wondering where he's disappeared to.—
Lando groaned dramatically.
—I was hoping nobody would notice.—
Oliver laughed.
—I don't think your performance coach forgets about race day naps somehow.—
Mila's shoulders slumped.
—Already?—
Oliver crouched down until he was eye level with both girls.
—Already.—
Athena immediately looked toward Charlie.
—Can Charlie come with us? Please?—
Oliver smiled before glancing toward Lando and Amelie.
—What do you think? Can we borrow him for a little while?—
Charlie looked between every person in the room, blissfully unaware that custody negotiations were currently taking place on his behalf.
Amelie smiled.
—I think he'd love that.—
Lando nodded in agreement.
—Just don't teach him any bad habits.—
Oliver laughed.
—I make no promises. These two are a terrible influence.—
Mila beamed proudly, clearly interpreting that as a compliment.
Oliver bent down and effortlessly scooped Athena onto one hip before lifting Mila with his other arm, somehow balancing both girls with practiced ease. The two sisters immediately burst into another round of giggles while Charlie happily trotted over beside them, already convinced he was joining the adventure.
—Bye, Melie!— Mila called, waving enthusiastically.
—Bye, Lala!—
Athena leaned around Oliver's shoulder to wave too.
—Bye! See you after the race!—
Charlie barked once, his own version of a farewell.
Lando smiled warmly.
—See you later, monkeys.—
Amelie waved until they reached the doorway.
—Have fun with Charlie.—
Oliver smiled over his shoulder.
—I have a feeling he's about to become the most spoiled dog in Northamptonshire.—
With one final chorus of excited goodbyes, Oliver disappeared into the corridor carrying both daughters while Charlie proudly followed beside him, his little leash trailing loosely in Oliver's free hand.
The door clicked softly shut behind them.
Silence immediately settled over the room again.
Lando looked toward the now-empty patch of carpet where, only moments before, three tiny whirlwinds of energy had been playing.
He let out a slow breath before turning toward Amelie.
—Well...—
She smiled knowingly.
—I think your nap is officially back on schedule.—
Lando didn't answer.
Instead, he simply opened one arm toward her with the unmistakable expectation of someone who had absolutely no intention of sleeping alone.
Amelie laughed quietly.
—I was wondering how long it'd take before you asked for cuddles.—
He smiled innocently.
—I didn't ask.—
She raised an eyebrow.
—No?—
—I very clearly invited you.—
Still laughing, she scooted across the carpet toward him, already knowing there had never really been another outcome.
--------------
liked by papayahq, gridgirlie, and others
lanmeliehub: Just before lights out at Silverstone. 🥹🏁
View all 535 comments
papayagirl: THE PRE-RACE HUG I'M ACTUALLY UNWELL 😭🧡
→ lan4ever: that's his good luck hug idc
→ orange4ever: i'm crying before lights out
gridgirlie: the way they were just standing there talking like the rest of the grid didn't exist 🥹
→ papayahq: their own little bubble
f1updates: JON JUST STANDING THERE HOLDING THE UMBRELLA LIKE 🧍♂️😭
→ papayaprincess: he's seen it all at this point
→ orangegrid: honorary third wheel
amelieupdates: THEY LOOK SO CALM WITH EACH OTHER 🥹
→ amesdefender: that's what gets me the most
orangeobsession: imagine getting a hug from your favorite person before your home grand prix 😭
→ gridgirlie: don't do this to me
→ papayahq: i'm already emotional
f1gossipdaily: the grid is complete chaos and these two are just having a quiet conversation 😭
lanmeliehub: the way he leaned in to hear her 😭
→ orange4ever: i need to know what she said SO BAD
→ detectiveera: probably "good luck" and i'm still crying
papayahq: his entire body language changes around her
→ lan4ever: he instantly relaxes
f1detectives: jon deserves an award for pretending he wasn't witnessing all that 😭
→ orangegrid: professional umbrella holder
ameliecentral: she always finds him before lights out 🧡
→ amesupdates: it's become their tradition
→ orangeobsession: and now it's ours too 😭
papayagirl: okay but THAT HUG???
→ lanmeliehub: forehead almost touching afterwards 😭
orange4ever: silverstone really brings out the softest version of them every year 🥹
→ lan4life: something about this place
→ papayahq: home race magic
f1updates: imagine being the photographer who captured this 😭
→ orangegrid: i'd never shut up about it
amesnation: she always looks at him like she's trying to memorize the moment 🥹
→ amesdefender: STOP THAT'S TOO MUCH
→ lan4ever: i'm literally tearing up
gridgirlie: no staged poses. no looking at the cameras. just them 😭
f1gossipdaily: if someone looked at me the way Lando looks at Amelie before a race i'd never know peace
papayahq: i know he walked away smiling after that hug 😭
→ gridgirlie: don't make me imagine it
→ lan4life: too late i already did
f1fangirl99: this is literally his pre-race ritual now and nobody can convince me otherwise
→ papayaprincess: hug ✔️ talk ✔️ go race ✔️
→ orangegrid: championship checklist
lanmeliehub: the way she always waits until the very last second before letting him go 🥹
→ papayagirl: okay that's enough i'm crying for real
--------------
The celebrations surrounding the podium had only just begun to settle into something quieter as Amelie and Alexandra made their way through the crowded paddock together. Champagne still clung faintly to the air, photographers hurried between television compounds chasing final reactions, and somewhere behind them another chorus of cheers erupted as Ferrari mechanics continued celebrating Charles' long-awaited victory. After nearly two years without standing on the top step again, the entire paddock seemed genuinely happy for him.
Alexandra had slipped her arm comfortably through Amelie's several minutes earlier, neither of them in any particular hurry to reach their next destination. They moved slowly through the sea of team uniforms and camera operators, occasionally stepping aside to let hurried engineers or hospitality staff pass before continuing their conversation exactly where it had left off.
—I don't think I've ever screamed that much during the last ten laps,— Alexandra admitted with a laugh, shaking her head. —I honestly thought something was going to happen right until the Safety Car came out.—
Amelie smiled knowingly.
—I think everyone thought something was going to happen. It felt like one of those races where nobody wanted to breathe until the flag actually dropped.—
Alexandra nodded immediately.
—Poor Lando though. Fourth again... I know that's not what he wanted after qualifying yesterday.—
Amelie's smile softened.
—No. But considering how the race unfolded... I think he'll eventually see the positives. Right now he'll probably just be frustrated.—
—Drivers,— Alexandra sighed dramatically.
—They're exhausting,— Amelie agreed.
They both laughed.
The conversation drifted toward lighter things almost instinctively after that. Alexandra excitedly recounted Charles accidentally spraying half the Ferrari hospitality staff with champagne before the podium ceremony had even officially ended, while Amelie confessed Charlie had somehow managed to charm three separate television crews into giving him treats before anyone realized he wasn't technically supposed to be wandering around the media pen.
—I swear he has better networking skills than most celebrities,— Alexandra teased.
—It's genuinely concerning,— Amelie replied. —I'm convinced Charlie could negotiate a sponsorship deal if someone handed him a business card.—
Their laughter echoed softly through the paddock until it gradually faded as another figure entered Amelie's peripheral vision.
Several meters ahead, Max walked briskly across the paddock toward the Red Bull motorhome without acknowledging anyone around him. His race suit remained zipped all the way to his neck despite the afternoon heat, one hand still carrying his gloves while the other remained tightly clenched into a fist. He didn't look angry in the explosive way cameras usually captured after difficult races. He looked... empty. His jaw remained locked, his shoulders unusually tense, and his eyes never lifted from the pavement ahead of him.
Amelie's smile slowly disappeared as she watched him continue walking, the familiar heaviness settling quietly in her chest. She had known Max long enough to recognize the difference between frustration and something much deeper. Frustration usually came with muttering, eye rolls, sarcastic comments, or the occasional dramatic complaint. This wasn't any of those things. This was silence, and somehow that worried her far more.
Alexandra followed her gaze, immediately spotting the reigning World Champion disappearing toward the Red Bull hospitality building.
—...He's taken today hard,— she observed softly.
Amelie kept watching until Max disappeared through the Red Bull motorhome entrance, his pace never slowing, never once looking over his shoulder despite several people quietly greeting him as he passed. Every single interaction lasted less than a second. A nod. A barely audible word. Nothing more. It reminded her far too much of conversations they had shared over the last few months, where disappointment had gradually stopped sounding like frustration and started sounding like exhaustion.
She hesitated for only another moment before gently squeezing Alexandra's arm.
—I think I should go check on him,— she admitted quietly. —Lando's probably going to be buried in interviews for a while anyway, and... I don't really like that look on Max's face.—
Alexandra immediately understood.
She gave Amelie's hand a reassuring squeeze before letting their linked arms separate.
—Go,— she said with a small smile. —Charles is going to disappear into Ferrari debriefs for the next hour anyway. Text me later?—
—I will.—
They shared a quick hug before heading in opposite directions, Alexandra toward the Ferrari motorhome while Amelie quietly turned and made her way after the Dutchman.
The Red Bull motorhome felt noticeably calmer than the celebrations happening elsewhere throughout the paddock. Mechanics walked quietly between offices carrying laptops and paperwork, conversations remained hushed, and nobody seemed particularly surprised to see Amelie making her way inside. She had been around long enough that she no longer felt like a visitor in most paddocks, especially not somewhere Max had practically adopted her years ago as one of his closest friends.
She climbed the staircase toward the driver's area, already noticing one of the doors standing slightly open at the end of the corridor.
Max's room.
She knocked softly against the frame before peeking her head inside.
—Permission to interrupt your dramatic brooding?—
Max looked up from where he sat on the small sofa, still wearing the top half of his race suit tied around his waist now. For a split second he looked almost surprised to see her before the faintest smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.
—I wasn't brooding.—
Amelie raised an eyebrow.
—Max...—
—I was... thinking.—
—With the exact same face Batman makes before fighting crime.—
That earned a quiet snort.
—I don't think Batman complains this much.—
She stepped inside anyway, gently closing the door behind her before walking farther into the room.
The driver's room looked exactly how every Formula One driver's room looked after a difficult race. Helmet resting on the counter. Gloves discarded carelessly onto a chair. Half-finished water bottle sitting forgotten beside the massage table. Usually Max would already be halfway changed by now, impatient to get out of race overalls as quickly as possible. Today he hadn't even started.
Amelie lowered herself onto the sofa beside him without asking, leaving just enough space between them that neither felt crowded. For several moments neither of them spoke. They simply sat there listening to the distant muffled celebrations drifting faintly through the walls.
Eventually Max let out a slow breath.
—I spun a car that was capable of a podium.—
Amelie didn't rush to answer. She had learned years ago that Max rarely wanted immediate reassurance after races like this. He needed to empty everything first before anyone tried putting the pieces back together. Instead, she rested one elbow against the back of the sofa and quietly watched him stare at the floor, his fingers absentmindedly turning one of his racing gloves over and over in his hands.
—You did,— she admitted gently. —You also spent sixty laps dragging that car somewhere it probably didn't belong in the first place. Both things can be true at the same time.—
Max let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head once.
—That's exactly the problem. I'm constantly dragging it somewhere it doesn't belong. Every weekend feels like damage limitation now. Qualify higher than we deserve. Defend more than we should. Hope strategy saves us. Then something happens anyway. It's... exhausting.—
His voice never became louder, but somehow that made every word heavier. There was no anger behind it anymore, only fatigue. The kind that settled into someone's bones after carrying the same weight for far too long.
Amelie looked at him carefully, recognizing the expression that had become increasingly familiar throughout the season. Months ago, conversations after disappointing races had still ended with determination. They had always circled back to fixing things, improving, fighting again the following weekend. Recently, however, the ending had started sounding different.
Less hopeful.
More... uncertain.
—You've been saying that for a while now,— she observed quietly.
Max nodded.
—I know.—
He leaned forward, resting both forearms on his knees while looking toward the carpet.
—I don't even recognize the feeling anymore. Racing used to be... simple. I got in the car because I couldn't imagine doing anything else. Now I get in it wondering whether I'm actually enjoying myself or whether I'm just doing it because it's all I've ever known.—
The confession hung between them longer than either of them expected.
Outside the room, distant footsteps echoed briefly down the corridor before disappearing again, leaving the driver's room wrapped in comfortable silence.
—I hate admitting that out loud,— Max murmured. —Because people hear something like that and immediately think you've stopped caring. I haven't. That's almost the problem. I care too much. Every bad weekend follows me home. Every disappointing race stays in my head for days. I keep asking myself whether this is actually worth it anymore.—
Amelie slowly turned toward him, resting one arm across the back of the sofa.
—Are you asking because you genuinely want to stop... or because you're tired?—
Max didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he rubbed his thumb slowly across the seam of one glove before quietly exhaling.
—I honestly don't know anymore.—
He laughed once beneath his breath, though there wasn't much humor behind it.
—A couple of years ago I couldn't imagine retirement. Now... sometimes I catch myself wondering whether maybe that's my answer. Maybe I've done everything I wanted to do. Maybe it's someone else's turn.—
Amelie stayed quiet for a long moment, giving his words the room they deserved instead of rushing to fill the silence. She had learned over the years that Max rarely needed advice first. He needed someone willing to sit with the uncomfortable thoughts until they stopped feeling quite so heavy. Outside, faint celebrations from Ferrari still drifted through the motorhome walls, a strange contrast to the quiet conversation unfolding inside the small driver's room.
—I don't think you're asking yourself the right question,— she said gently at last, keeping her voice soft enough that it almost blended with the distant noise outside. —You're asking whether it's time to retire, when maybe you should be asking whether you're still happy with the life you're living around racing. Those aren't necessarily the same thing.—
Max looked over at her, his expression thoughtful rather than defensive.
—You think so?—
—I do.— She nodded once. —Because every time we've had this conversation over the last few months, it never starts with "I don't love driving anymore." It starts with "I'm exhausted." There's a difference between falling out of love with something and being too tired to recognize the parts you still love.—
He rested his elbows on his knees again, staring down at the floor while quietly considering her words. The room remained still around them, interrupted only by the occasional muffled voices drifting down the corridor outside. It felt oddly familiar, almost identical to conversations they had shared after difficult seasons years ago, except now they were older, more honest, and no longer pretending they had all the answers.
—I used to wake up excited to get in the car,— Max admitted after another long pause. —Even if qualifying had gone badly or we'd had reliability problems, I still wanted Sunday to come because I knew something could happen. Now I spend most weekends calculating damage before we've even started. It's become... work. Just work.—
Amelie nodded slowly.
—And that's heartbreaking for someone who turned their biggest childhood dream into their everyday life.—
Max laughed quietly through his nose.
—I never thought I'd hear you describe Formula One as heartbreaking.—
—Neither did I,— she admitted with a small smile. —But dreams evolve. Sometimes they stop being magical because you've carried them for too long without putting them down for a minute.—
He leaned back against the sofa cushions, rubbing both hands over his face before looking toward the ceiling.
—I keep wondering if people would understand it. If one day I woke up and said, "I'm done." I don't know if they'd see someone making the right decision... or someone quitting.—
Amelie turned slightly toward him, her expression soft but certain.
—The people who matter would understand. The people who love you aren't keeping score of championships or podiums. They just want you to be happy. Everything else is noise.—
Max let the silence settle for another few seconds before exhaling through his nose, the tension in his shoulders easing just enough to notice. His gaze remained fixed somewhere beyond the room, as though he were trying to picture a version of himself that existed outside racing altogether. It looked like an impossible exercise, one he had probably attempted more than once over the last few months without ever arriving at a satisfying answer.
—Maybe I should just become a stay-at-home dad,— he said suddenly, completely deadpan.
Amelie stared at him for exactly one second before bursting into laughter.
The sound filled the little driver's room so unexpectedly that even Max couldn't stop the grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.
—You?— she asked between laughs. —A stay-at-home dad? Max Verstappen?—
He shrugged with exaggerated confidence.
—Why not?—
She pointed accusingly toward him.
—Because I genuinely can't picture you sitting at home making dinosaur-shaped sandwiches and helping with arts and crafts.—
—I could absolutely make dinosaur-shaped sandwiches,— he defended immediately. —Arts and crafts... maybe we'd outsource that part.—
Amelie laughed even harder, shaking her head as she wiped at the corner of one eye.
—I need you to understand how ridiculous that image is. You'd be timing preschool drop-off like it was qualifying. "If we leave thirty-two seconds earlier we avoid traffic."—
Max snorted.
—That's called efficiency.—
—That's called being you.—
He leaned farther back into the sofa, smiling properly now for the first time all afternoon.
—People change, you know.—
She narrowed her eyes playfully.
—Do they?—
—I think they do.—
Max crossed his arms loosely over his chest, studying her with the unmistakable expression that usually meant he had noticed something before everyone else.
—Besides... don't act like I haven't noticed you two lately.—
Amelie immediately frowned, though the smile threatening the corners of her mouth gave away far more than she intended.
—I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about.—
—Really?— Max asked, sounding entirely unconvinced. —Because from where I'm standing, you've both become disgustingly domestic.—
She laughed, leaning back into the sofa.
—Domestic?—
—Very domestic,— he confirmed with a nod. —You have a dog. You argue about groceries. You somehow made Lando enjoy furniture shopping. I walked into your house two weeks ago and found him folding laundry.—
Amelie's eyebrows lifted.
—He was not folding laundry.—
—Fine.— Max held up his hands dramatically. —He was attempting to fold laundry. There is a difference.—
She couldn't help laughing at the image.
—That's slightly more believable.—
Max pointed at her triumphantly.
—Exactly. And don't think I haven't noticed how soft he's become.—
She tilted her head.
—He's always been soft.—
—No.— Max shook his head immediately. —He's always been emotional. That's different. Now he's... homely.—
Amelie blinked.
—Homely?—
—He genuinely gets excited telling me Charlie learned a new trick,— Max continued, counting on his fingers. —He complains about grocery prices. He asks what flowers look nicest in the kitchen. Last week he spent ten minutes telling me about some stupid coffee machine you bought together.—
Amelie pressed her lips together, already laughing before she even attempted defending either of them.
—I still don't know what you're talking about.—
Max looked at her with the kind of expression that clearly communicated I know you better than that.
—Please.— He rolled his eyes dramatically. —I've known you for almost a decade. You're about as subtle as a flashing safety car.—
She folded her arms across her chest, trying very hard to look offended.
Amelie lifted her chin with exaggerated dignity, refusing to let the smile escape.
—I have always been exactly like this.—
Max stared at her for a long second before letting out the driest laugh imaginable.
—No, you absolutely have not.—
She gasped theatrically.
—I can't believe you're attacking my character after I came here to comfort you.—
—I'm not attacking your character,— he replied innocently. —I'm reminding you of your character.—
Amelie pointed an accusing finger toward him, trying very hard to maintain a serious expression despite already losing the battle against her own laughter.
—I have always been a perfectly reasonable, emotionally balanced person.—
Max looked at her with complete disbelief.
—Amelie...—
—What?—
—Need I remind you that after Cameron passed away, you sat in my apartment eating cereal straight from the box and very confidently informed me that if neither of us had found anyone by forty, I was legally obligated to marry you because, and I quote: "I refuse to learn how to date again."—
For exactly two seconds, she simply blinked at him.
Then she groaned dramatically, dropping her face into both hands.
—I cannot believe you still remember that.—
—I remember everything,— Max replied far too proudly.
Amelie let out a muffled laugh from behind her hands before finally looking back up at him, cheeks faintly pink despite herself.
—I was grieving,— she defended with exaggerated seriousness. —People in grief say ridiculous things.
Max didn't even hesitate.
—You weren't even crying when you said it. You were eating chocolate cereal at eleven o'clock at night and negotiating our hypothetical marriage like it was a business contract.—
She pointed at him immediately.
—Because somebody had to think ahead.—
—You literally said, "Neither of us likes meeting new people, so statistically this is the smartest option."—
Amelie groaned louder, sliding farther down the sofa cushion in theatrical embarrassment.
—I cannot believe I actually said statistically.—
—You absolutely did,— Max confirmed, already laughing again. —Then you told me we'd save a fortune by skipping dating apps.—
She covered her face once more.
—I'd really appreciate it if we could erase that entire conversation from history.—
—I don't think I will.—
—Max...—
—It's one of my favorite memories.—
She looked at him through narrowed eyes, trying—and failing—to look intimidating.
Max laughed properly now, head tipping back against the sofa as the sound echoed around the small driver's room. It wasn't forced anymore. It wasn't the polite chuckle he'd been offering people throughout the afternoon. It was genuine, loud enough that Amelie couldn't help joining in, both of them momentarily forgetting the race that had brought them there in the first place.
When the laughter finally settled, Max wiped at the corner of one eye before looking back toward her.
—Funny thing is... I actually believed we'd end up doing it.—
Amelie blinked.
—You did?—
He shrugged one shoulder.
—I mean... after Cam, you shut everyone out for ages. You kept insisting nobody would ever fit into your life again. And honestly? I wasn't exactly winning any awards for emotional availability either.—
The laughter gradually faded until the room settled into silence once more, softer this time but somehow heavier. The joking had done exactly what it was supposed to do for a few minutes, pulling both of them away from the weight sitting on Max's shoulders, yet as naturally as it had disappeared, reality quietly returned. Amelie watched his smile slowly slip away, replaced by that familiar distant expression she'd noticed so often lately, the one where his thoughts seemed to disappear somewhere neither podiums nor championships could reach.
Max rested his elbows on his knees again, loosely clasping his hands together while staring at the floor. Whatever relief the laughter had brought lasted only a handful of moments before the anxious thoughts crept back in, settling visibly across his features. His jaw tightened almost unconsciously, and his foot bounced lightly against the carpet, the small restless movement giving away far more than his carefully controlled expression ever would.
Amelie didn't interrupt him.
Instead, she simply studied him quietly, recognizing every tiny habit he'd developed over the years whenever his mind became too loud. The tapping foot. The fixed stare. The way he absentmindedly rubbed his thumb against his knuckles without realizing it. She had seen this version of Max after difficult championships, after family losses, after races that hurt more than they should have. It wasn't something a few reassuring words could solve.
For nearly a full minute, neither of them spoke.
Outside the driver's room, muffled conversations drifted faintly down the corridor, accompanied by the occasional closing door somewhere farther along the motorhome. Inside, however, time seemed to stand still. Max remained trapped inside his own thoughts while Amelie quietly searched for anything that might pull him back out again.
Then, all at once, something sparked behind her eyes.
Without saying a single word, she suddenly pushed herself off the sofa.
The abrupt movement immediately caught Max's attention.
He looked up in confusion, eyebrows knitting together as he watched her brush invisible creases from her jeans before turning toward him with an expression that looked far too determined for someone who hadn't explained a single thing.
—...What are you doing?— he asked cautiously.
Amelie didn't answer.
Instead, she simply stepped directly in front of him and extended one hand toward him, palm open in invitation.
Max looked from her face to her outstretched hand and back again, clearly trying to work out whatever strange plan had just appeared inside her head.
—Meels...—
She gave her fingers an impatient little wiggle.
—Come on.—
He frowned.
—Where?—
—I had an idea,— she replied simply.
He blinked.
—That's... not an answer.—
—No,— she agreed cheerfully. —It isn't.—
Max stared at her for another second, completely unconvinced.
—I feel like I should be concerned whenever you say you've had an idea.—
—Probably,— Amelie admitted without the slightest hint of guilt.
That answer did absolutely nothing to reassure him.
He glanced suspiciously toward the closed driver's room door before looking back at her.
—Should I ask questions?—
She immediately shook her head.
—Absolutely not.—
He sighed dramatically.
—That's somehow even more concerning.—
Amelie smiled, still refusing to explain herself.
—Trust me.—
Max looked at her hand again before finally accepting defeat. With an exaggerated groan that sounded far more dramatic than he actually felt, he reached up and let her pull him to his feet.
—I'm already regretting this,— he muttered while straightening up.
—You're not even doing anything yet.—
—I know,— he replied. —That's the worrying part.—
She laughed softly before giving his arm one reassuring squeeze.
—Go change out of your race suit.—
He looked down at himself as though only just remembering he was still half dressed in it.
—I was going to do that anyway.—
—Good.— She nodded once. —Do that, don't ask any questions, and meet me downstairs in... fifteen minutes.—
Max narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
—Fifteen?—
—Fifteen.— she smiled innocently, —no questions,— she reminded him with a grin.
He watched her reach for the handle, still looking entirely unconvinced that any of this qualified as a sensible plan.
—You're impossible.—
Amelie smiled over her shoulder.
—I know.—
She opened the door, pausing only long enough to point at him one final time.
—Fifteen minutes. Comfortable clothes. Trust me.—
Before Max could object again or extract even the smallest clue from her, she slipped out into the corridor, letting the door click softly shut behind her.
Left alone in the suddenly quiet driver's room, Max stared at the closed door for several long seconds before shaking his head to himself.
He still had absolutely no idea what she was planning.
But after nearly ten years of friendship, he knew one thing for certain.
Whenever Amelie told him not to ask questions...
Something ridiculous was almost always about to happen.
--------------
liked by lan4ever, orangegrid, and others
f1gossip: POST-RACE CHAOS 😂🏁
While everyone else was wrapping up their Sunday, Amelie and Max were spotted taking the LEGO go-karts for a spin around Silverstone—with Amelie behind the wheel of Lando's kart. 💛🧱
View all 483 comments
papayagirl: MAX REALLY SAID "MY RACE IS OVER, TIME FOR LEGO" 😭😭😭
→ orange4ever: honestly valid coping mechanism
→ gridgirlie: i'd do the same after a DNF
f1updates: i'm crying because Amelie is driving Lando's kart 😭💛
→ lan4ever: she saw the opportunity and took it
maxielover: max laughing like he didn't just have the worst afternoon 😭
→ dutchlion: at least someone got him smiling again 🥹
→ orangegrid: that's what friends are for honestly
amelieupdates: they've been friends for YEARS and they still act like children together 😭
→ amesdefender: that's why i love their friendship
→ f1updates: zero thoughts just vibes
lanmeliehub: LANDO'S KART 😭😭😭
f1gossipdaily: max and amelie together always have the most sibling energy 😭
→ gridgirlie: constantly bullying each other probably
→ dutchlion: 100% she was talking trash while driving
papayahq: she definitely challenged him to a race immediately 😭
→ orangeobsession: before he could even say no
maxverstappenfan: after everything today i'm glad he found something to laugh about 🥹
→ orange4ever: genuinely needed this
→ dutchlion: we all did honestly
f1detectives: where was Lando while his girlfriend stole his LEGO kart 🤨
→ detectiveera: probably letting her because he knows better 😭
gridgirlie: imagine losing your race and then losing to Amelie in a LEGO kart five minutes later 😭
→ maxielover: worst day ever
→ orangegrid: max probably still argued it wasn't fair
amesnation: their friendship has survived like... what? almost a decade? 🥹
→ amesdefender: literally paddock siblings at this point
orangeobsession: the way they're BOTH laughing in every single photo 😭
→ lanmeliehub: pure serotonin
→ f1updates: nobody was taking this seriously
dutchlion: that's the max verstappen experience
lan4ever: i know Lando was somewhere watching these two and shaking his head 😭
→ papayagirl: "there goes my kart..."
→ gridgirlie: "and my girlfriend"
f1fangirl99: not Amelie driving Lando's kart while racing Max 😭
→ orangegrid: this is the content i pay internet for
→ papayahq: silverstone never disappoints
dutchlion: thank you Amelie for making our grumpy Dutch driver smile after today 🥹🫶
f1updates: someone PLEASE tell me there are videos of this 😭
→ lanmeliehub: i need the onboard immediately
→ papayagirl: release the footage!!!
papayagirl: why do they always end up causing chaos together 😭
→ amesdefender: because they're mentally 12 around each other
→ dutchlion: and i hope they never change
--------------
The two LEGO go-karts sat abandoned near the bottom of the Landostand, parked crookedly against one another after what had easily become the most ridiculous half hour either of them had experienced in months. Amelie and Max now occupied the very top row of the grandstand instead, exactly where Lando had spent so many quiet moments over the years. The fluorescent yellow seats surrounding them had finally emptied, the last fans long gone after another unforgettable British Grand Prix. Without thousands of people filling every row, the grandstand felt strangely peaceful, the circuit stretching silently beneath them as the evening sun slowly disappeared beyond the Northamptonshire countryside. The sky had transformed into layers of warm orange, pale pink and lavender, reflecting softly across the empty asphalt where only hours earlier Formula One cars had thundered past at impossible speeds.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The silence wasn't awkward. It felt earned. After thirty minutes of aggressively racing LEGO go-karts around a nearly empty Silverstone circuit, shouting insults at each other and arguing about corner-cutting rules that definitely didn't exist, they had finally run out of adrenaline and settled into something quieter. The wind moved gently across the top of the grandstand, carrying the faint smell of rubber and grass while the circuit slowly cooled beneath the fading sunlight.
Max rested his forearms on his knees, staring out toward Copse Corner.
For several long minutes neither of them spoke.
The silence wasn't uncomfortable. It felt earned, settled gently between them after the chaos of the afternoon and the absurdity of two adults racing LEGO go-karts around Silverstone like overgrown children. Somewhere far below, a marshal vehicle rolled slowly along the circuit before disappearing around a corner, leaving the track quiet once more.
Max finally broke the silence.
—Thank you.—
Amelie turned her head slightly, though she already knew what he meant.
—For what?—
He looked out over the circuit instead of at her.
—For this.— He gestured vaguely toward the empty track, the abandoned karts, the sunset. —I didn't realize how much I needed it until we were halfway around the lap and I was trying to beat you into Copse.—
Max let out a quiet laugh beneath his breath, the kind that carried no bitterness anymore, only genuine amusement at how completely ridiculous the afternoon had become. He leaned back against the fluorescent yellow seat, folding his arms loosely across his chest while the fading sunlight painted the empty circuit in shades of gold.
—I forgot,— he admitted softly. —I actually forgot that driving could just... be fun.—
Amelie stayed quiet, allowing him the space to continue without interrupting. She had learned long ago that the most honest things Max ever said almost always arrived after the silence rather than before it.
—There weren't engineers talking in my ear. No tire temperatures. No degradation targets. No championship points. No expectations.— His smile widened almost imperceptibly. —Just... "Don't let Amelie overtake you." That was literally the only objective I had for half an hour.—
She laughed quietly.
Amelie tucked one leg beneath herself as she smiled toward him, the breeze lifting a few loose strands of hair that had escaped during their improvised race around the circuit. The setting sun reflected across the empty tarmac below, turning Silverstone into something almost unrecognizable compared to the frantic atmosphere it had held only a few hours earlier.
—I still overtook you,— she reminded him proudly.
Max immediately looked at her with exaggerated offense, the expression so familiar it almost made the afternoon feel like they were twenty again instead of standing in the middle of careers neither of them could have imagined back then.
—You absolutely did not.—
Max pointed an accusing finger toward her, already smiling.
—You cut the inside of Vale.—
—I took an alternative racing line,— Amelie corrected with complete confidence.
—You drove across the painted runoff.—
—I was being... creative.—
He let out another laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.
—You would've been given a five-second penalty.—
She shrugged innocently.
—Good thing nobody was stewarding LEGO races today.—
Max rolled his eyes toward the sky, though the grin never disappeared. Somehow, arguing over imaginary penalties in children's go-karts felt infinitely more important than discussing race strategy ever had.
The laughter faded naturally after that, leaving the quiet to return once more. Neither of them rushed to replace it. The evening breeze drifted gently across the empty grandstand, carrying distant sounds of trucks beginning to pack away hospitality units while the last streaks of orange melted slowly into the horizon. It was one of those rare moments where an entire Formula One circuit seemed to exhale.
Max looked back toward the ribbon of asphalt stretching below them, his expression softer now than it had been all afternoon.
—I needed today,— he admitted quietly. —Not the race... this. I think somewhere along the way I forgot that I started karting because I couldn't wait to get behind the wheel every weekend. Today... for thirty ridiculous minutes... I remembered exactly what that little kid felt like again.—
He smiled to himself before shaking his head almost affectionately.
—You somehow tricked me into enjoying driving again.—
Amelie smiled without looking at him.
—I didn't trick you.—
—No?—
—I just removed everything that wasn't driving.—
Max let those words settle.
There had been no stopwatch. No telemetry. No media obligations. No expectations hanging over every corner. Just two friends refusing to let the other win around Silverstone in tiny plastic karts that barely reached jogging speed. It sounded ridiculous when put into words.
Yet somehow... it had worked.
—You're annoyingly good at fixing people without them realizing you're doing it,— Max murmured.
She immediately shook her head.
—I don't fix people, Max.—
He looked toward her.
—I remind them who they are when they've forgotten,— she finished softly.
Max stayed quiet after that, letting her words settle somewhere deeper than he expected. He didn't immediately answer with a joke or a sarcastic comment like he normally would have. Instead, he simply looked back toward the circuit, watching the last traces of sunlight disappear behind the grandstands while the track below slowly became covered in shadows.
For once, he didn't feel the need to fight against the feeling.
The frustration from earlier that afternoon hadn't magically vanished. The questions about his future hadn't suddenly disappeared. He still didn't know what the next years would look like or whether the exhaustion he felt was something temporary or something much bigger. But sitting there, with the empty circuit in front of him and the ridiculous memory of racing LEGO go-karts still fresh in his mind, everything felt slightly less overwhelming.
Amelie noticed the change immediately.
She didn't point it out. She didn't make a big deal out of it. She simply sat beside him, allowing him to exist in that calmer version of himself without reminding him how far he'd come. Sometimes, she had learned, people didn't need to be told they were healing. They just needed someone to sit beside them while it happened.
For another minute, they watched the sunset in silence.
The sky continued shifting above Silverstone, the warm colors slowly fading into deeper shades of blue while the first hints of evening settled over the circuit. Somewhere in the distance, the last team trucks moved through the paddock, the sounds growing quieter with every passing minute until the entire place felt almost disconnected from the chaos it had hosted only hours before.
Max rested his head back against the seat, eyes still fixed somewhere beyond the circuit as if memorizing the view in front of him. The calm expression on his face was something Amelie hadn't seen enough of lately, and she found herself quietly appreciating the fact that, even if only for an afternoon, she had managed to give him a small piece of the person he used to be.
For another moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Amelie took a slow, deep breath.
It wasn't a dramatic movement. It wasn't something meant to announce a confession. It was simply the quiet preparation of someone finally deciding to stop keeping something locked away. She looked down at her hands resting together in her lap, watching her fingers move slightly against one another while she searched for the right words.
Amelie let out the breath just as slowly as she had taken it, her eyes never leaving the empty circuit below. The silence around them somehow made honesty feel easier. There were no cameras, no interviews, no people waiting for the perfect answer. Just two friends who had spent nearly a decade watching each other grow into people neither of them had expected to become.
—I think...— she began quietly, smiling to herself before shaking her head. —I think you've ruined me a little today.—
Max frowned slightly.
—Me?—
She nodded once.
—Because earlier... when you were making fun of me for becoming all... domestic... I laughed it off.— A small smile tugged at her lips. —I always laugh it off.—
He stayed quiet, sensing there was something much bigger sitting behind the words.
—I keep pretending I don't notice it either,— she admitted. —Like it's just Charlie, or groceries, or furniture shopping, or arguing over laundry, or deciding which coffee beans we're buying this week. I joke about it because... I don't know... maybe it feels safer that way.—
The breeze lifted a few loose strands of her hair across her face before she tucked them absentmindedly behind her ear.
—But deep down... I know.— Her voice softened even more. —I know exactly how serious everything has become.—
Max turned his head toward her fully now, saying nothing.
She gave the smallest laugh, almost embarrassed by what she was about to admit.
—It's funny, because if you'd asked me five years ago where I'd be now... none of this would've been on the list. I didn't think I'd ever picture myself building a life with someone again.—
She paused, watching the sunset reflect across the silver safety barriers.
—I mean... of course I love Lando. I've loved him in one way or another ever since we met. Even when we were pretending we didn't. Even when we were making each other's lives incredibly complicated.— She smiled to herself. —He always felt... different.—
Her eyes drifted farther down the circuit.
—I just never thought different would eventually become forever.—
Max remained completely still beside her.
She laughed quietly through her nose.
—That's the weird part.— He waited. —I catch myself imagining things now.—
She looked down at her intertwined fingers.
—Not tomorrow. Not next month. Not next season.— Her smile grew impossibly soft. —I imagine years.—
The confession lingered between them.
—I imagine Christmases in the house. Charlie getting old. Maybe another dog because Lando will absolutely convince me we need one. I imagine Sunday mornings where neither of us has anywhere to be. I imagine him complaining that I bought another plant we don't have space for. I imagine us arguing over paint colors or who forgot to buy milk.—
She laughed at herself, almost in disbelief.
—I imagine growing up together.—
Max didn't interrupt her, simply allowing her words to drift out into the cooling evening air over the empty grandstands. He knew exactly what she meant, having witnessed the two of them navigate the chaotic paddock lifestyle while somehow building a completely solid, protective bubble around their relationship.
A small, genuinely warm smile touched his lips as he looked down at the abandoned LEGO karts below, realizing how far they had all come from the dramatic, uncertain years of their early twenties.
—It’s about time you finally admitted it out loud, Amelie,— Max murmured gently, his voice carrying a rare, affectionate softness that he usually reserved only for the people he considered true family. —Everyone else around you has known it for years, you know. You two look like an old married couple even when you're just arguing over who has to walk the dog in the rain, so stop trying to pretend you're surprised by it now.—
Amelie let out a soft chuckle, rolling her eyes playfully at his teasing before resting her chin in her hand to look back at the fading colors of the horizon.
—I guess I just needed to hear myself say it,— she admitted quietly, the heavy weight of the confession completely transforming into a sense of beautiful, settled calm inside her chest. —It's terrifying, but at the same time, I don't think I've ever felt more certain about anything in my entire life. He’s just my home, Max. No matter where we are in the world, as long as he's there, everything makes sense.—
They sat together in that comfortable, understanding silence for another long minute, watching the dark blue shadows of twilight fully take over the Silverstone circuit. The calm atmosphere wrapped around them like a protective blanket, sealing away the raw honesty they had both shared until a distant, incredibly familiar voice suddenly echoed through the open structure of the grandstand.
—Amelie!—
Both of them instinctively turned toward the sound.
Standing near the entrance at the very bottom of the Landostand was Lando, now changed out of his race overalls and looking much more like himself again. The team kit had been replaced with a simple grey T-shirt tucked loosely into a pair of blue jeans, his curls still slightly messy from the shower he'd undoubtedly taken after media duties. Charlie rested comfortably in one arm, the little golden retriever immediately spotting Amelie before his entire body began wriggling with excitement, his tail wagging so violently it looked like he might launch himself right out of Lando's arms.
Lando smiled the moment their eyes met.
The expression was tired after a long race day, but warm in the effortless way it always became whenever he looked at her.
He adjusted Charlie slightly against his chest before calling up toward them again.
—You ready to go?—
His voice carried easily through the empty grandstand, softened by the evening air now that the thousands of fans had long since disappeared. Without the constant roar of race-day celebrations surrounding them, it almost felt strangely intimate, the simple question echoing across rows of fluorescent yellow seats that only hours earlier had been overflowing with people chanting his name.
Amelie smiled instinctively.
—Yeah!—
She pushed herself up from her seat, brushing the invisible dust from the back of her jeans before turning toward Max one last time. For a second neither of them said anything. They didn't really need to. The conversation they'd shared over the last couple of hours had somehow said far more than either of them normally allowed themselves to. She stepped forward anyway, wrapping both arms around him in a quick, tight hug that he returned without hesitation.
—Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me all that,— she murmured quietly.
Max rested his chin briefly against the top of her head before letting out a small breath.
—Thank you... for kidnapping me with LEGO karts.—
She laughed into the hug.
—I maintain it was an excellent therapeutic technique.—
—I hate how right you were.—
Pulling back, she reached up to straighten the collar of his hoodie with the same absentminded familiarity she'd done a thousand times over the years.
—You'll be alright,— she said softly.
Max looked at her for a long second before giving the smallest nod.
—I think... I will be.—
There wasn't complete certainty behind the words yet, but there was something that hadn't been there when she'd found him in the Red Bull motorhome earlier that afternoon.
Hope.
Sometimes that was enough.
Amelie smiled once more before turning toward the stairs that wound their way down through the empty Landostand. Halfway down, Charlie began squirming enthusiastically in Lando's arms, tiny paws already reaching toward her as though he'd waited long enough.
—Alright, alright,— Lando laughed, struggling to keep hold of the dramatically excited puppy. —You've seen her literally this morning.—
Charlie clearly believed that was far too long ago.
The moment Amelie reached the bottom step, Lando leaned forward without a word, greeting her with a gentle kiss that lingered for just a second longer than necessary. It wasn't dramatic or hurried. It was simply familiar, comfortable, the kind of kiss that had become second nature somewhere along the way.
—Hi,— he murmured against her forehead.
—Hi.—
Charlie immediately protested the lack of attention directed toward him, earning a laugh from both of them.
—Apparently I'm interrupting something,— Amelie teased, scratching behind his ears.
—He's been offended for the last five minutes because I wouldn't let him run up the stairs by himself,— Lando explained. —I told him you'd come down eventually, but he didn't believe me.—
Charlie gave a tiny bark that sounded suspiciously argumentative.
Lando finally looked past her toward the top of the grandstand where Max still stood watching them. He didn't say anything.
He simply gave him a small nod.
It wasn't elaborate.
It didn't need to be.
Max returned it with one of his own, the quiet exchange carrying years of friendship, mutual respect, and an unspoken thank you that neither man felt the need to explain aloud.
Lando shifted Charlie into one arm before reaching for Amelie's hand with the other as naturally as breathing.
Their fingers intertwined immediately.
—Come on,— he said quietly. —Let's go home.—
The word settled warmly in Amelie's chest.
She glanced sideways at him as they walked together through the now-empty service road toward the waiting car. Charlie trotted proudly between them after Lando finally set him down, the leash held loosely in his left hand while his right never let go of hers. The puppy occasionally looked back over his shoulder just to make sure both of his humans were still following before continuing confidently toward the parking area.
The black SUV waited exactly where they'd left it, illuminated by the soft glow of the paddock lights beginning to replace the fading sunlight. One of the security staff quietly opened the rear passenger door as they approached.
Lando waited for Amelie to climb inside first.
She smiled at the familiar gesture before stepping into the vehicle, sliding across the leather seat as Charlie immediately jumped up beside her, curling into a happy golden ball against her hip.
Only once she was settled did Lando climb in after her, gently pulling the door closed behind them. The noise from outside disappeared almost instantly, replaced by the comfortable quiet of the car's interior as it slowly pulled away from Silverstone.
For a minute, neither of them spoke.
Lando reached over almost absentmindedly, intertwining their fingers again where her hand rested between them.
His thumb brushed slowly across the back of hers.
—Everything alright?— he asked softly.
Amelie turned toward him.
She looked at the man beside her, still slightly sunburnt from the afternoon, curls messier than ever after an emotional race day, quietly checking on her before thinking about himself. Charlie sighed contentedly against her side, already half asleep, while beyond the window Silverstone slowly disappeared behind them, another British Grand Prix becoming part of their history.
She smiled.
Not the polite smile she'd worn for cameras all weekend.
Not the amused smile she'd given Max while teasing him.
The kind that reached every corner of her face without her even realizing.
—Yeah,— she whispered, gently squeezing his hand. —Everything's perfect.—
Lando smiled back, lifting her joined hand to his lips for one absentminded kiss before resting it back between them.
Outside, the last light of the English summer disappeared completely.
Inside the car, surrounded by quiet and the people she loved most, Amelie realized she'd never been more certain that she had already found exactly where she belonged.
Ahh can’t wait for the next chapter and for the Silverstone one as well! 🫶🏽 I would low-key love to see Amelie deciding and turning up in the black world champion jacket (the one that has all the cities he one in last yr and the big star on the back) for one of the days! She’s just fully rocking up and supporting her man 😭🤭
ahhh thank you so much!! 🥹🫶🏽
And I LOVED this idea 😭🤍 The second I read it I could picture Amelie showing up in Lando's black World Champion jacket, proudly supporting her man, and I just had to include it.
So... I actually added it into the chapter! 👀✨ In case you missed it, I'll leave the link down below.
I really hope you love it as much as I loved writing it. Thank you so much for reading, for all your support, and for always sending me the cutest ideas. 💌 As always, my requests are always open! 🫶
💬 2 🔁 5 ❤️ 94 · aperture · Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman
Summary: It follows Lando and Amelie during the high-energy buildup to the Britis
I have a suggestion where amelie and Lily Zneimer have like a spa day or lunch day together since they're werent together in the franchise for a while to catch up with things and seem to discuss love, marriage, and hopes for the future or just a general heart to heart.
hii love 🥹🤍
I absolutely loved this idea!! 🫶 I always enjoy writing Amelie's friendships, and I thought it would be really nice to have her and Lily catch up after not seeing each other for a while.
I ended up changing it a little bit from a spa/lunch day, but I kept the heart of your idea—the two of them having a proper conversation and catching up on life, love, and everything that's happened since they last saw each other. 🤍
I really hope you like how it turned out! In case you missed the chapter, I'll leave the link down below.
Thank you so much for reading, for all your support, and for sending such lovely ideas. 💌 As always, my requests are always open! 🫶
💬 2 🔁 5 ❤️ 93 · aperture · Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman
Summary: It follows Lando and Amelie during the high-energy buildup to the Britis
I had a couple ideas that might give u some inspo for the Austria chapter (I’m assuming Amelie is gonna be at the race not back in Canada yet - if not I’m so sorry 😭) :
1. Maybe some more wag interactions - like perhaps Carmen talking/asking Amelie how she dealt with the ups and downs with Landos championship campaign especially with how George’s season is going
2. Idk if u saw Landos insta story after the Austria gp but it was raining when he was leaving the track soooo I had a idea that maybe Amelie’s outfit is too long it’ll get wet or she’s wearing heels and doesn’t wanna slip so lando just decides to carry her out lol 🤭
hiiiii!! 🥹🤍 Thank you so much!! I'm so happy you loved the new chapter. 🫶
And thank you for taking the time to send all these ideas!! They genuinely help me so much whenever I'm feeling a little stuck. 💌
Unfortunately, Amelie wasn't at the Austrian Grand Prix in my timeline because she's still filming, so I couldn't use the second idea (which was honestly so cute 😭). But I absolutely loved your first suggestion, and I ended up including the little Carmen conversation in the Austrian chapter because I thought it fit the story really well.
So in case you missed it, I'll leave the link down below! 🤍
Thank you again for reading, for always supporting the story, and for sending such thoughtful requests. They really do inspire me. And as always, my requests are always open! 🫶
💬 0 🔁 1 ❤️ 79 · stronger · Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman
Summary: It follows Lando and Amelie as they manage the quiet anxieties of a race
i absolutely love your work!! every time i post i automatically stop what im doing to read. Can you include in a chapter some major fluff where lando and amelie talk about their future together 🩷
ahhh thank you so much 🥹🩷 That honestly means the world to me. The fact that you stop what you're doing to read every new chapter is so sweet 😭🫶
And I actually thought it was about time for them to finally have a proper conversation about their future together. After everything they've been through, it just felt like the right moment in their relationship. 🤍
So... I did write that chapter! 🥹 I'll leave the link down below in case you haven't read it yet. I really hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Thank you so much for reading, for all your support, and for sending such lovely requests. 💌 As always, my requests are always open! 🫶
💬 2 🔁 6 ❤️ 132 · anything for love · Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman
Summary: It follows Lando and Amelie during a family wedding weekend in
i absolutely love your work!!! do you think you could do some long distance fluff since lando is now in japan for the GP and Amelie continuing with the festival run?
hii love 🥹🤍
Thank you so much!! 🫶 I actually have started writing more long-distance chapters now that Amelie is filming again, because I think it's a really interesting stage of their relationship to explore.
So if you have any specific ideas for their long-distance era—FaceTime calls, surprise visits, gifts, little traditions, or anything else—please let me know! I'd absolutely love to hear them. 💌
In the meantime, I'll leave the link to the Austrian Grand Prix chapter down below because that's also a long-distance chapter, in case you haven't had the chance to read it yet. 🤍
Thank you so much for reading and for all the love you give this story! And as always, my requests are always open. 🫶
💬 0 🔁 1 ❤️ 79 · stronger · Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman
Summary: It follows Lando and Amelie as they manage the quiet anxieties of a race
Hii so I have a little request for u (this is gonna be so long I apologise in advance)… soo i was re reading all the 2021/2022 chapters recently andd i was thinking of something, so how about say during the time lanmelie weren’t speaking amelie would write letters to lando like when she was sad and stuff just to like update him on her life but she obviously never showed them to him and completely forgot about them. So then in 2025 amelie isn’t home one night and l finds them somewhere in her/their apartment and he gets super emotional and they talk about it and then it ends in really loving smut and they’re super cutesy and in love and what not. i just would love a chapter where lando kinda realises how much amelie missed him during that time since we didn’t really get to see her vulnerability and the reality of how much losing him affected her :) i’m so sorry this is really random and it’s totally fine if you didn’t want to write it but you did say you haven’t been having inspiration lately so here’s just a quick suggestion 💖💖💖
hii love 🥹💖
First of all, don't ever apologize because I absolutely loved reading this 😭🫶 I actually had this request sitting in my inbox for such a long time because I really wanted to do it justice.
In the end, I approached it a little differently than you suggested, but I kept the heart of your idea. I really wanted it to be a reminder to Lando of just how far they've come together, and for him to finally understand that, through everything they went through, he has always been enough for Amelie. 🤍
I really hope you like how it turned out. In case you missed the chapter, I'll leave the link down below!
And thank you so much for taking the time to send such thoughtful requests. They honestly inspire me so much and help me whenever I'm feeling stuck. 💌 As always, my requests are always open, so please keep sending me your ideas!
💬 0 🔁 4 ❤️ 169 · true story · Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman
Summary: Set during race week in Monaco, the chapter follows Amelie and Lando
