#help amelia pls

[hotchsdoormat]

guys i’m begging pleading on my knees right now i’m actually going insane. does anyone know if there’s a place to watch evil never dies (2003) with thomas and katherine heigl? i can’t find it anywhere i swear it’s been deleted off the face of the earth but i want to watch it so badly :((

[eternal-moss]

I want to cosplay as Amelia Ruth so badly but it’s actually impossible to search up historical maid accessories without being bombarded w sexualised versions 😭😭

[pitlanepeach]

Radio Silence | Chapter Thirty-Nine

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, pregnancy, strong language, nightmares, protective!Lando, papaya rules tw (barf).

Notes — It's long again - which is becoming a common theme. Also pls take every pregnancy date/timeline piece of information with a pinch of salt. I'm not perfect and I only went to nursing school for 3 weeks (not kidding). Okay ily enjoy xxx

2024 (Saudi Arabia—China)

It was still dark when she woke up.

The air in the hotel room was cool, but Lando was burning next to her — damp with sweat, breath uneven. He jerked once, a short, desperate twitch like his body was trying to run without him. Then again, louder. A sound came out of him that didn't sound like him at all.

Amelia blinked, heart already climbing, and reached over. "Lando?"

He flinched at her voice; sat bolt upright, eyes wide and unseeing. He was panting. Actually panting.

"Hey," she said, sitting up with him, hand finding his arm. "Hey, it's okay. It was just a dream."

His head turned slowly toward her like he wasn't sure she was real. "Amelia?" His voice cracked halfway through her name.

She nodded. "Yeah. Hi. I'm here."

Lando dragged in a breath. Then another. But it wasn't calming him down — his hands were shaking, still clenched in the bedsheets like he was bracing for impact.

She reached for them gently. "Lando."

He dropped his head, and for a second she thought he wasn't going to speak. But then — quietly, nearly swallowed by the dark — he said, "There was blood."

She stared at him.

"Yours," he added, like that should have explained everything.

Amelia wrapped her arms around him immediately, pulling him close, pulling him in. His body was stiff at first, coiled tight like he'd shatter if she touched him too hard. So she didn't. She held him exactly the way she liked to be held — not soothing, not soft. Solid. Anchoring.

"I couldn't get to you," he murmured. "I kept running but, fuck, I don't even know what happened. I just—I couldn't get to you."

Her hand moved slowly up his back. "Got me now, haven't you? And I'm fine."

His breath hitched again, then he dropped his head to her shoulder like it weighed a hundred kilos. "You were shouting my name," he whispered. "Trying to get me to come and help you. And I couldn't do anything."

"It was a dream." She told him.

"It didn't feel like one." He admitted.

She didn't say anything. Just held him tighter.

For all the times Lando had been the one to protect her, hand at her back in the paddock, whispering 'I've got you, always' — this was a rare moment where it was her turn to return that.

Amelia shifted slightly, so his arms were around her bump, so he could feel her, all of her, safe and alive and steady. "This is real life," she said into his hair. "Your dreams mean nothing," she said gently, tucking her fingers behind his ear. "They're not omens or premonitions or anything silly like that. Not manifestations. Just your brain sorting through junk data while your body rests."

Lando didn't respond right away, still caught somewhere between shame and exhaustion, eyes trained on her face like she was the only thing keeping him tethered.

"They're not real," she continued, softer now. "It's just neurons firing while your hippocampus files away memories. No intent. No purpose. Just noise."

Her thumb brushed over his cheekbone.

"Nightmares are especially common in high-anxiety environments, particularly when there's big change; like, I don't know," she said lightly. "Maybe preparing for us to have a baby whilst also driving at blinding speeds every weekend."

That pulled a faint, breathy laugh from him. She smiled, but didn't let him look away.

"They mean nothing," she repeated. "They feel real, but they aren't. I'm here. I'm fine. We're fine." She pressed her palm flat over his chest, right where his heart beat wild and frantic just minutes before. "This is real," she said. "Me. You. Here. Everything else? Just your brain being dramatic."

And Lando didn't argue.

He just leaned in and kissed her wrist.

Nuzzled her pulse.

And eventually fell asleep again.

—

Lando was still asleep when she padded out into the hotel suite's sitting room.

She hadn't gone back to sleep. Couldn't.

Not after the way he'd clung to her. The genuine fear that's shined in his eyes.

So she sat on the sofa, blanket over her legs, and pulled out her phone.

Nightmares in expectant fathers.

The search bar filled itself in before she finished typing.

She clicked. Scanned. Saved one medical article, one parenting blog.

Tapped open her Notes app.

THINGS TO REMEMBER — FOR LANDO

    • Nightmares are common in expecting fathers, even more in high-stress environments

 • Fear of losing partner is normal (He's scared. Not silly. Not dramatic.)

    • Don't minimise the fear — reassure with touch + presence.

 • If it happens again, don't ask what the dream was right away   → He will tell you if he wants to talk about it in detail.

 • Deep pressure helps (arms around shoulders, grounding. Not smothering.)

    • Keep lights low.

    • Bring water next time. He won't ask for it.

She stared at the list for a moment, thumb hovering.

She didn't cry. But her throat got tight. Stupidly tight.

It wasn't just that she wanted to help. It was that she wanted to know how. The exactness of it. The steps. Because love, for her, wasn't always instinctive. It was often a system — learned, built, updated in real-time. Just like strategy.

She could do love if she could learn it like this.

A soft sound pulled her gaze back toward the bedroom. Lando shifting under the duvet. She waited, but he didn't call out this time.

She added one more bullet:

 • You fall apart all the time, and he always catches you and puts you back together. When he falls apart — return the favour.

Then locked her phone. Set it down. Took a slow breath.

She'd be ready, if it happened again.

Because that's what love looked like, for her.

Data points. Her Notes app. A quiet war against the clench of unnamable emotion in her stomach.

And a husband who would never have to feel fear alone for the rest of his life.

—

Heavy blackout curtains drawn, both of them stripped down to t-shirts and shorts, the air-conditioning humming softly overhead. Amelia lay sprawled on her back across the crisp duvet, one knee bent, iPad propped against her thighs. She wasn't really reading anymore.

Lando had been beside her a while now, scrolling aimlessly on his phone. Not touching her, just close — their shoulders brushing lightly. He knew better than to crowd her at the end of long race days. She needed decompression like she needed water. Especially now.

Amelia exhaled slowly. The flutter had been there for a minute or two now. Not sharp, not uncomfortable — just present. Familiar. Rhythmic. She'd started tracking it a few weeks ago. There was a pattern forming, she was sure of it. After dinner, quiet room, body finally still — the baby wriggled off like clockwork.

She tapped her fingers gently along her bump. Lando glanced over.

"You okay?" He asked.

Amelia didn't answer right away. She was focused on the pressure inside — just low enough beneath her ribs, like a tiny muscle twitch, but from the inside out. She'd learned not to flinch at it. Not anymore. The first few times had been startling. Unnatural. It had taken her weeks to fully come to terms with it.

She glanced at Lando. "Give me your hand."

He blinked. "What?"

She tugged his phone from his fingers and set it aside, then reached for his wrist and guided his hand down gently, laying it across her belly. He held still immediately, tension tight in his shoulders — like he might scare it off.

Amelia exhaled again. "Just wait."

They sat there like that for maybe a minute. No movement. Lando didn't speak, didn't move. His eyes were glued to his own hand, fingers splayed awkwardly, not quite sure where to press or what to feel for.

Then it happened; subtle, but unmistakable. A faint thud against his palm.

His head snapped up. "Was that—?"

"Yeah," she said. "It's been happening for weeks. Sorry I didn't tell you. I needed to get used to it."

He didn't speak. Just stared down, mouth parted slightly. A second kick followed, firmer this time, more insistent.

"Holy shit," he murmured.

Amelia hummed. "Baby gets real active in the evenings. It's like they know when I stop moving."

Lando adjusted his hand slightly, more confident now. "That's insane."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "It made me panic, a bit."

"What?"

"The first few times. Sensory-wise. I didn't like not being in control of what my own body was doing. It was... jarring. That's why I didn't tell you."

His eyes flicked to hers, softer now. "Baby."

She smiled faintly. "It's okay now. I— I like it. I like knowing they're okay. Growing. Getting stronger."

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against her shoulder, still keeping one hand pressed firmly against her belly. "You're magical."

Amelia snorted. "I'm incubating."

He smiled against her skin. "Still magic."

The baby kicked again. Lando grinned so wide it made her laugh; full and involuntary.

And just like that, something shifted in the room. The noise from the hotel hallway faded. The distant memories of his nightmare faded away. The race weekend disappeared.

It was just the three of them.

—

Jeddah was hot, fast, and utterly unforgiving.

The kind of circuit that left no room for error, and no patience for discomfort — which, when you were pregnant and doing three jobs at once, was laughably ironic.

Amelia had learned to time her day in ten-minute increments. Ten minutes of data logging. Ten minutes of standing. Ten minutes of sitting. Ten minutes of politely telling people she didn't need help. Ten minutes of actually accepting it when her body disagreed.

Lando had qualified P6. Not ideal, but workable, and Oscar had lined up P5. Both cars in the mix. Everyone pretending not to hover around her as she moved up and down the garage like her body wasn't actively rearranging itself every hour.

The paddock whispers were quieter this weekend. Less second-guessing. Fewer sidelong glances. After Bahrain — after the strategy calls she'd pushed, the moments she'd kept the team calm under pressure — it was like something had shifted. Small things. Andrea deferring to her on timing sheets. Her dad checking in with her first before post-quali meetings. Engineers who used to triple-check her math now just nodded and plugged in her numbers.

Respect, it turned out, came slowly. But it was coming.

Race day was chaos from lap one. A Safety Car reset the whole strategy board by lap fifteen, and Amelia pivoted fast; switched Oscar to the alternate plan, gave Will the nod to bring Lando in early. It was a gamble, but it paid. Tire wear dropped off fast for everyone else, and by lap forty-two, Oscar was in P5 and closing in on Alonso.

He crossed the line in P4.

Lando came home in P8.

The radio crackled with champagne and static and shouting, but when Oscar's voice finally came through, and he said, "Solid comeback." She couldn't help but smile.

After press, after cool-down, after everything, Lando found her in the back hallway near the engineering room, still in her headset, still half-in strategy mode, and pulled her into his arms like he hadn't seen her in weeks.

"You and Oscar," he whispered against her hair. "The two of you are going to keep me on my toes, eh?"

"Yes," she whispered back. "It's fun, isn't it? To really be challenged by your teammate. Hard, but... good."

Lando just laughed and kissed her forehead.

Oscar wandered past then, a bottle of water in one hand, a protein bar in the other. "You guys done with the PDA or..."

Amelia flipped him off without looking. He tossed her the water bottle anyway.

—

Amelia wasn’t one to buy into headlines. She liked numbers. Data. Consistency. So when Oliver Bearman was called up last-minute to debut for Ferrari in Saudi, she’d watched with a measured kind of curiosity — analytical, not emotional.

And then he went and scored points. Solid, clean, fast laps. No drama. No rookie clumsiness. Just grit and focus and a poise that made her sit back in her chair and blink at the final results.

Later, in a quiet debrief room, she pulled up his sector times just to be sure.

Consistent under pressure. No massive tyre drop-off. Clean exit speeds. Braking points tight and repeatable. No rattled radio calls.

She gave a little hum, almost pleased.

When Lando swung by later to ask if she’d seen the race, she just said, “Kid’s got control. Not just fast — smart. I liked it.”

And that, from Amelia, was basically a glowing endorsement.

Behind the scenes, she jotted his name into a private file of “Drivers to Watch” — not because she thought he’d threaten her boys (Oscar and Lando were already leagues ahead in her book), but because she respected the science of performance. And what Ollie had shown under that kind of pressure? That was textbook.

Later that night, curled up on the sofa, she told Lando absently, “He reminds me of you, a bit. Quiet when it counts. Loud when it matters.”

And Lando, who’d already seen the headlines and felt the faint stirrings of a new generation pressing in, just smiled and said, “Yeah. He’s good.”

Amelia nodded once, then added without looking up, “He’ll be better with the right team behind him.”

Which, in her mind, was the truth of it. Because raw talent mattered. But the right data? The right feedback loop? That’s what made drivers great.

And Ollie already had the talent part covered.

So she’d make some calls. Speak to some people.

And in the meantime, she'd sent Carlos a 'Get Well Soon' cake. 

 —

The Quadrant studio in London always smelled like LED lights and too many energy drinks. Cables snaked across the floor, the main set still half-dressed with props from the last shoot — some cardboard weapons from a Mario Kart skit, a suspiciously cracked gaming chair, someone's half-finished iced coffee with a lipstick ring around the lid.

Lando was fiddling with a controller. Max was doing doughnuts on an office chair.

Amelia stood just off-camera. She wasn't due for any on-camera time, just there for the afternoon while Lando filmed promos before they flew out to Melbourne. She hadn't even meant to stay this long — but the couch was comfortable, and she didn't have to explain why she needed to sit down every fifteen minutes.

"You're very pregnant," Pietra said bluntly, appearing beside her with a hand on her hip and a warm grin that made the words feel like affection, not insult.

Amelia made a face. "I'm aware."

"No, seriously," Pietra said, dropping down beside her on the couch, eyes wide as she took in the bump. "When I saw you in January you were just... gently round. Now you're, like... full second trimester in the shape of it."

Amelia nodded. "Twenty-four weeks. All starts happening really quickly once you're out of the teen weeks."

"Wow." Pietra gave Amelia a searching look. Amelia nodded and shifted her hoodie. Pietra rested a hand lightly on her belly, pausing when she felt movement. "Strong."

"Busy," Amelia muttered. "Moves more when Lando's talking. Recognises his voice."

Pietra squealed like that was the cutest thing she'd ever heard, then immediately quieted herself with an apologetic hand gesture, though the excitement still lit her up. "Sorry. That's so sweet."

"I know," Amelia smiled lightly.

"You look beautiful," Pietra said, nudging her. "Like, you've got the glow."

"I've been throwing up for four months."

Pietra snorted. "And you're still hot. It's unfair."

Across the room, Lando looked over. He gave Amelia a crooked little grin before turning back to Max, who was trying to convince the producer to let him do a skit with a Nerf gun and a referee's whistle.

Amelia leaned her head against Pietra's shoulder for a second. "You're still the only woman I've talked to about this who isn't a midwife. Or my mom."

"That's because you're very selective and kind of mean," Pietra said sweetly.

"Thank you."

"But also because women are terrifyingly competitive sometimes and you're like... not built for that kind of bullshit."

"Also thank you."

"I'm serious," Pietra said, turning toward her now. "You're one of the most no-nonsense people I've ever met. I think that's why I like you so much. You never make me guess what you mean."

"That's the autism."

"That's the charm."

They sat like that for a while, low voices and half-lidded smiles, until Lando came over during a break and dropped onto the arm of the couch.

Amelia just reached for his hand and rested it gently on her stomach, where the baby was kicking again — a soft press, not too much. Lando's face softened like it always did.

"You doing alright?" He asked her under his breath.

Amelia nodded. "I'm good. Kind of hungry."

"I'll UberEats you some food." He said.

Max shouted from across the room, "Tell me when I can shoot someone with the Nerf gun!"

—

Oscar's mum had made enough food to feed an army. Four different kinds of salad, two trays of roast vegetables, grilled chicken, a full rack of lamb, and something vegetarian "just in case." Amelia had offered to help twice and had been firmly denied each time with a polite, maternal smile that brokered no argument.

So she sat obediently at the long table on the patio, the soft hum of Melbourne's twilight filling the air, and let the comfort of domestic noise happen around her.

Lando was already two plates deep and talking animatedly with Oscar's dad about tyre temps and the difference between this years compounds. Amelia kept one hand braced on her stomach, the other around her glass of apple juice. Oscar sat on her other side, shovelling roasted potatoes into his mouth like he hadn't eaten in years.

"She feeds me like this every time I come home," he mumbled. "Pretty sure I gain two kilos every time we race in Australia."

"Good," Amelia said, spearing a green bean. "You're too wiry."

Oscar gave her an affronted look. "Rude."

"True," Lando added, not even looking up from his fork.

Oscar's sister set a dish of bread rolls down in the middle of the table, golden and still steaming, then leaned in toward Amelia with a conspiratorial smile. "How's the baby? Are they kicking yet?"

"A lot, actually," Amelia said, smoothing a hand across the curve of her belly. "It used to feel like flutters, kind of like popcorn. Now it's more—defined. Rolling, stretching, tiny kicks. They're... busy in there."

The table laughed; that warm, open kind of laughter that lived easily between mouthfuls of pasta and clinking cutlery.

Under the table, Lando reached out and tapped her knee, fingertips resting lightly for a second or two. Amelia glanced at him. His expression was soft, like something inside him had gone loose. She gave him a small, knowing smile. He didn't need to say thank you. She could feel it in his hand.

Later, when dessert came — two types of pavlova, of course, one topped with mango and passionfruit and the other with strawberries and cream — Oscar's mum passed a plate across the table to Amelia with a practiced kind of care.

"Don't let anyone tell you otherwise," she said. "You're growing a baby. Sugar counts as energy. This is mum-approved."

Amelia smiled, a little caught off-guard. "Thanks. I'll take all the mum-approved sugar I can get."

Lando slid a spoon into her hand without being asked. She didn't miss the way he watched her eat the first bite, like he was mentally cataloguing everything — her comfort, her colour, the rate she was breathing. She let him, because she knew that's how he loved her.

Across the table, Oscar said something dry about his awkward post-race interview, which set off a ripple of laughter. Amelia leaned into Lando's shoulder for a second and just breathed it all in — the open patio doors, the faint scent of jasmine from the garden, the way Oscar's mum had called her "love" all day long.

When the meal wound down and plates were scraped clean and the sky turned the soft violet of a late Melbourne summer, Amelia shifted back in her chair and rested a hand just beneath her ribs. The baby was moving again — just little stretches this time, the kind she was learning to read like a language.

Oscar's sister caught the motion and smiled. "Moving?"

Amelia nodded. "They're a big fan of desert."

"Well," Oscar's mum said, standing to start collecting plates, "clearly they're going to fit in with the Piastri's just fine."

The others laughed again, but it wasn't at Amelia — never at her. She didn't feel observed. She felt... included. Known.

Lando stood to help, moving instinctively to her side as she got to her feet. He didn't make a fuss. Just placed a steadying hand at her lower back and kissed her cheek, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

When they climbed into the back of Oscar's mum's SUV to head back to the hotel, Lando buckled her seatbelt for her without asking. She let him. She was learning to let him help.

Oscar slid into the backseat beside them, his knees knocking Amelia's gently. "Just a warning," he said, completely deadpan. "If you two start being disgustingly PDA back here, I'm getting out and walking."

"You're so dramatic," Amelia said lightly, resting her head on Lando's shoulder.

Lando smirked. "Ignore him. He's jealous because he's not the favourite child anymore."

"It's fine," Oscar said, eyes closed, "I'll always be her first."

Amelia laughed.

—

Albert Park felt familiar in a way few circuits did — maybe because it was Oscar's home race, and Oscar had quietly made it hers too. It was warmer than expected. The kind of dry, sun-struck heat that made the garages feel like furnaces by midday, and the hospitality suites always smell faintly of sunscreen above engine oil.

Amelia ran her iPad on low brightness, wore compression socks under her fireproofs, and drank from her water bottle every minute.

Oscar's family had stopped by the track on Friday. His mum had brought fruit. His sister asked to feel the baby kick and cooed when she did. It was almost too much — not the attention, but the softness of it. Amelia didn't know what to do with tenderness that didn't demand anything in return. She took it anyway. Filed it away for later.

By Saturday, Lando had qualified P4. Oscar managed a clean Q3 lap for P6. Amelia stood between the engineers' wall and the pit box, headset around her neck, a folded pit strategy in her back pocket, her hand resting lightly over her bump.

She didn't miss the way the newer engineers double-checked everything with her. The quiet shift in authority. Trust, finally, not earned through her name or her proximity to Lando, but through clean results and consistent systems. Through knowing the car like she'd built it herself. Because she had.

She didn't say much on race day. Her voice carried weight, and she'd learned when to use it. Oscar got boxed early to cover Hamilton. The undercut worked. Lando stayed out two laps longer than planned, held Verstappen behind for five beautiful corners, and came out ahead after the second stop.

Amelia had trained herself not to flinch when things went sideways — a yellow flag, a botched pit release in the box next door, a lockup into turn nine — but she could feel the baby twist in her stomach with every adrenaline spike. Lando's telemetry showed steady throttle traces. Clean lines. The kind of driving that only happened when he wasn't chasing. When he was already out front.

He took the last podium place on lap 41.

McLaren's first podium of the season.

Oscar followed behind in 4th.

Afterwards, when the champagne had been sprayed, Amelia leaned her head against Lando's sticky shoulder in the back of the garage. Just for a second.

"Such a good drive from both of you," Amelia said.

"Car's really starting to feel dialled in." Lando said.

Amelia hummed, adjusting something on the iPad balanced across her lap. "It'll only keep getting better. I built this car specifically for you and Oscar, remember?"

He shot her a grin. "Yeah, baby. I remember."

Before she could respond, Oscar appeared from the garage tunnel, dropping onto the crate beside them like his limbs had given out. He was already halfway through his second sports drink and looked like he might fall asleep mid-sip.

"God," he groaned. "I feel like I need to sleep for three weeks."

Lando chuckled, scrubbing a hand through his damp hair. "You say that after every race."

"Yeah, well, some of us actually push," Oscar muttered, elbowing Lando in the shin.

The moment hung suspended; the afterglow of adrenaline, the buzz of a job well done, until Lando cleared his throat. "Hey... so—hypothetically—what happens if we're both fighting for the win?"

Oscar didn't say anything right away, just looked at Amelia like he wasn't sure if she was going to laugh or murder them both.

She didn't blink. "Whoever's had the cleaner race gets prioritised race strategy."

Oscar frowned. "Just like that?"

"Yes. Just like that."

Lando tilted his head. "Even if it's close?"

Amelia looked between them, her expression flat. Not unkind. Just firm. "I don't play favourites. I won't have you two fighting each other for points unnecessarily. The data doesn't lie. If one of you's managing tyres better, or has had stronger pace on long runs, or been cleaner through traffic—that's who gets the optimal strategy."

"But what if—" Oscar started.

Amelia cut in. "The data will tell the pit wall exactly who's having the better race. Even if it's just by a tenth. That's how it'll be decided."

They both stared at her for a beat too long.

She raised her brows. "You think that's fair?"

Oscar nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess."

Lando blew out a breath. "It's just weird knowing the person making the call is, you know..."

"Your wife?" Amelia supplied, looking dead at him.

He scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah."

"Doesn't matter," she said simply. "Once the visor's down and you're both in the car, you're just data points to me."

Oscar snorted. "Romantic."

Amelia's mouth quirked. "Don't worry. I'll love you both again once the cool-down lap is over."

Lando let his head tip back, laughing, but Oscar just drained the last of his drink and nodded thoughtfully.

And then, like it had never been tense at all, they sat in companionable silence, shoulder to shoulder, their suits still half-unzipped and reeking of brake dust and heat. Amelia leaned back against the crate, iPad still in hand, calm as ever.

Law laid.

—

Monaco was quiet in that oddly padded way it always was between race weekends — blinds half-drawn, travel bags still by the door, and a kind of stillness that settled over the rooms like breath held too long. The fridge held only a few stragglers: bottled water, half a tub of hummus, one sad lemon. The kind of post-travel chaos Amelia had once found irritating now just made her feel... warm. Anchored. A little undone around the edges, but not in a bad way.

She'd fallen asleep on the sofa in a crumpled sprawl, one leg tucked awkwardly beneath her. She woke with a cramp in her hip and that now-familiar nausea coiled low and constant — not as sharp as it had been in the first trimester, but still there.

Their scan was booked for late morning. Same clinic as always — discreet glass doors, a wall of untouched magazines, that soft, over-perfumed smell of orchids and antiseptic. Amelia sat in the waiting room with one hand resting lightly on the curve of her stomach, her hoodie stretched gently over her bump. The iPad in her lap glowed, unread.

Lando sat beside her, bouncing his knee. A rhythm he didn't seem to notice.

"Are you nervous?" She asked, eyes on her screen but not reading a word.

He shrugged, then nodded. "Dunno. I just... I want to know she's alright."

She hummed in agreement.

They still didn't know the sex for certain, hadn't wanted to find out in December when the offer had been made. But lately, they'd started slipping into the idea of a daughter without thinking. A soft she in the early mornings. A tentative her when Lando scrolled through name lists at night, reading them out loud with too much focus, as if one might suddenly feel right.

They were called through. Same sonographer. Same faint vanilla scent clinging to the corners of the dimly lit room. Amelia eased onto the table, hoodie pulled up, her belly rounding into the cool air. She reached for Lando's hand without needing to ask.

"You want to know the sex today?" The sonographer asked.

Lando nodded once. "Yes. Please."

Amelia gave a small smile. A little tense around the edges. The gel was cold against her skin, the wand firm just under her ribs.

"There we are," the sonographer murmured, screen flickering to life. "Heartbeat is strong. She's measuring just under the 60th percentile. Spine's here — lovely alignment. And very active. You'll be feeling that more and more as she runs out of room."

It landed quietly. No fanfare. No pause for effect. Just: she.

Lando made a sound beside her. Not quite a gasp. Just the breath catching in his throat like it had nowhere else to go.

Amelia blinked. "She?"

The sonographer smiled softly. "She's not shy, this one. There's no mistaking it."

Amelia let out a slow, careful breath. "We'd been guessing," she said, voice thinner than usual. "Didn't want to find out too early. But... yeah. That fits."

Lando was still staring at the screen like it held the answer to something unspoken. Their daughter moved — a small, decisive roll — and pressed one foot against the uterine wall like she was testing the perimeter of her world.

"Looks like she's already got opinions," Amelia muttered.

"Good blood flow," the sonographer continued. "Placenta's anterior, fluid levels are excellent. She's sitting diagonally for now — spine curled along the left. Look at those little hands."

Amelia stared, but something caught in her — a quiet breath that didn't go all the way down. "Can I ask... is there any sign of... scarring?"

The sonographer tilted her head. "You mean from your endometriosis?"

Amelia glanced at Lando, then back. "Yeah. It's minor. Diagnosed when I was a teenager. I've been managing it fine and my midwife isn't concerned, but—"

"Nothing concerning," the woman reassured gently. "There's some faint evidence of prior inflammation near the uterine wall, but it hasn't affected blood flow or implantation. Your body's doing exactly what it should. She's growing in the best possible environment."

Lando's thumb rubbed slowly over the back of Amelia's hand. Quiet. Grounding.

When the scan was done, Amelia wiped the gel from her stomach and sat up carefully. Her joints felt loose lately — like her body had quietly agreed to more change than her brain had signed off on. Ligaments giving, hips stretching. Quiet, invisible work.

Lando carried her water bottle. Didn't let go of her hand until they were outside.

The air was warm and breezy off the marina. Sunlight slipped between clouds like threads pulled through linen.

"You okay?" He asked softly.

She nodded. "She's okay. That's all I care about."

He paused like he wanted to say something — to turn the moment into a joke, or maybe something bigger — but he didn't. Just watched her like he couldn't believe any of it was real.

Back at the apartment, Amelia moved slower. Not tired. Just aware. Of the shift. The weight. The girl inside her.

Lando pinned the scan photo to the fridge with careful precision. Not casually — like it mattered. Like it needed to be straight.

Next to it was a post-it that read: We were right.

Amelia added another below, neat and precise:

24w scan: 144 bpm. Diagonal. 60th percentile. It's a girl.

Lando stood there for a second, then picked up a pen and drew a lopsided heart beneath it.

Later that night, while he brushed his teeth, Amelia curled up in bed and opened her notes app. A new list took shape.

Third Trimester To-Do

• Pack hospital bag

• Final scan at 32w

• Baby CPR course

• Book postpartum physio

• Order blackout blinds for nursery

• Learn how to style baby hair

• Ask Mum about baby clothes storage

• Confirm birth plan with midwife in UK

• Stop Googling "endometriosis birth risks"

She clicked her phone off, rested both hands on her stomach. A flutter answered her. Small. Intentional.

Not a concept anymore. Not an idea.

A girl. Their girl.

Lando slid into bed beside her, silent and warm. He didn't say anything, just reached for her hand and held it. Steady and sure.

And she let him.

—

Amelia had never really enjoyed FaceTime. Too much pressure to make eye contact, to frame yourself properly, to keep a neutral expression when your face wanted to do anything but. But since the pregnancy, she'd started calling her mom more and more. Sometimes audio-only. Sometimes with the camera propped up on the windowsill, a safe few feet away.

That evening, Monaco was sunk in a golden dusk. The blinds were half-open, the sea just visible through a gap between buildings. Lando was out, dinner with his trainer, and Amelia had the apartment to herself for the first time in days.

She called her mom while she was folding laundry. Not dramatic, not ceremonial; she just needed to hear her voice. The call connected quickly.

"Hello, sweetheart."

"Hi, Mom."

Her mom's face appeared; soft lighting, kitchen tiles in the background, a cup of tea in hand. Comfortable. Familiar. The kind of presence that made Amelia's shoulders drop without her noticing.

"You look tired," her mom said, but kindly. Not a judgment. Just a fact.

"I am," Amelia admitted, folding a soft baby onesie she hadn't quite meant to buy yet. "But we had the 24 week scan. She's doing fine."

Her mom blinked. "She?"

Amelia felt it land in her chest, quiet and solid. She smiled, small but real. "Yeah. It's a girl."

Her mom didn't burst into tears, didn't gasp or squeal. She just let out a slow breath and placed her tea down, like she needed both hands to hold the moment. "A girl," she echoed.

Amelia nodded, lips pressed together. "A little girl."

"Oh, sweetheart." Her mom's voice went warm and quiet. "That's... that's beautiful. How's she doing? How are you doing?"

"Heartbeat's good. She's measuring well. Still flipping all over the place, but that's normal. They said she's healthy and active." Amelia paused, fingertips brushing the edge of the folded onesie. "And I'm... okay. Tired. Ligaments are weird. My hips feel like someone's unzipping me from the inside out. But okay."

Her mom smiled, soft and proud. "You always were tougher than you gave yourself credit for."

Amelia swallowed. "I'm coming back to England for the last bit. I want to have her there. At home."

"Of course," her mom said. No hesitation. "You'll stay here. Whatever you need."

"I just..." Amelia took a breath, then let it out in a rush. "I know Lando will be racing. And I'm not... I'm not scared. But I don't want to do it without someone who knows me."

"You won't have to," her mom said gently. "I'll be right there. However you need me. I promise."

Amelia's fingers played with a tiny pair of socks, folding and refolding them. "Do you think I'll be okay at this?"

"I think," her mom said slowly, "that you already are. You're careful. You're clear. You've made a life where this baby will be safe and loved. And you're going to figure the rest out one step at a time."

Amelia blinked hard. "I keep thinking about her growing up. What I'll say to her. What I'll show her. I want to be steady. I want to get it right."

"You won't get everything right," her mom said softly. "None of us do. But she's going to know she's loved. And she'll know you. That's more than enough."

Amelia nodded, her throat a little tight. "Thanks, Mom."

"Always, love."

They stayed on the line a little longer, not talking much. Just the quiet comfort of home on the other end. Eventually, Amelia got up and poured herself a glass of water, carried the phone with her around the apartment. Her mom stayed there on the screen, sometimes commenting on the laundry pile, sometimes just watching her daughter move through her life.

It wasn't dramatic. It didn't need to be.

It was just love; steady and quiet and unspoken, the way it always had been.

—

It hit her on the flight to Japan.

Amelia shifted in her seat for the sixth time in as many minutes, trying to get comfortable. The upgraded seat helped, sure. The little footrest and lumbar support, the quiet of the cabin, the way Lando had wordlessly handed her one of his noise-cancelling earbuds when the hum of the plane started getting under her skin. But none of it stopped the low ache in her hips. Or the swelling in her hands. Or the way her centre of gravity felt just slightly... off.

It wasn't new. But this was the first time she couldn't bring herself to ignore it.

Lando was asleep beside her, a hoodie pulled up over half his face, mouth parted slightly. He'd had his hand on her thigh when he drifted off. It still rested there, warm and reassuring.

She looked down at herself — at the dome of her belly now undeniably there, visible even beneath the soft slope of her hoodie. Twenty-five weeks.

Her iPad screen lit up with her calendar. Back-to-back races. Long-haul flights. Debriefs that stretched into the early hours. The carefully timed quiet minutes between adrenaline spikes.

There wasn't a line in the schedule that said you will have to stop, but she could feel it all the same. A kind of internal countdown.

She opened her Notes app and typed.

When to stop flying?

Ask Dr. Molina about long-haul after 30w.

How long before babies are allowed to travel longhaul?

What if I miss something?

What if the team does better without me?

What if I'm not ready to stop?

She stared at that last one for a long time.

Lando stirred beside her and blinked awake. He glanced over, registered the screen, then her expression.

"Baby, you okay?" He asked, voice thick with sleep.

"Yeah," she said automatically. Then hesitated. "I was just thinking. About how much longer I can keep up with all of this."

He sat up a little straighter, pushed his hoodie back. "Yeah?"

"Travel. Track. Work. This pace. I'm not there yet, but... I can feel the edge coming."

He was quiet for a second. Then, gently, "You know you can stop whenever you need to. No one expects you to—"

"I know," she cut in. Not unkindly. "But I expect me to."

Lando didn't argue. He just shifted closer and rested his hand again over her stomach. His thumb traced absent patterns, slow and grounding.

"You'll know when it's time," he said. "And when it is — we'll figure it out. Me and you and the team."

Amelia leaned her head against his shoulder, eyes still on the screen. Her typed out worries stared back at her.

For now she closed the app, shifted into a slightly more comfortable position, and let herself rest. Not ready to stop yet. But maybe starting to soften to the idea.

Just a little.

—

The garage was half-packed when Amelia finally sat down on one of the flight cases, iPad still in hand, tea cooling on the crate beside her. Her dad dropped into the chair next to her, no clipboard, no headset. Just her dad.

"I've done the maths," she said without preamble. "If everything stays on schedule, I can probably work trackside through to Monaco. Maybe Canada. Depends on what my doctor thinks about the travel."

Her dad nodded like he'd been expecting this. "That gives us until early-June."

"Assuming no complications. If I do decide to bench myself before then, I'm going to need two weeks to train Tom. Ideally three."

"He's on board."

She finally looked up from the tablet. "Yeah?"

"Knows it's temporary. Knows it's your program he'll be running."

Amelia gave a tight nod. She didn't need soft reassurances. She needed facts. Structure. A transition plan.

"I'll still handle all the dev work," she said. "Sim data, mechanical spec reviews, upgrade briefs. That can all be done remotely. I can run analysis from the MTC. Keep my name on the post-session reports."

"You will," her dad said.

"I don't want to fade out."

"You won't."

She glanced down at her stomach, hand resting absently over the slope of her hoodie. "I think I'll fly home after Imola. Be near Mum. Lando'll be in Canada and that's just... it's too far away for me to feel comfortable being on my own. It makes sense."

He didn't argue. Just nodded once. "That buys you recovery time over the summer break. Target Zandvoort return?"

"Realistically, Monza. Depends on baby's health, what the paediatrician reccomends. But I'll be involved well before that."

Her dad leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You know this isn't about proving anything."

"I'm not trying to prove anything," she said, not unkindly. "But if I don't spell it out, people start making decisions on my behalf."

That earned the ghost of a smile.

"You don't have to worry about your place here," he said. "It's yours. Nothing changes."

She nodded again, that single clean tilt of the head that meant she was logging the information. "I want everything documented," she said. "No handover gaps. I'll start mapping out the protocols next week."

"Whatever you need."

They sat in companionable silence for a moment.

"Do you want help breaking it to Oscar?" Her dad asked.

She raised an eyebrow. "He already knows what to expect."

Her dad snorted. "Good. He'll be fine."

Amelia stood slowly, tugging her hoodie into place, checking the tablet again like she couldn't bear to be idle. "I'll work until I can't. And then I'll keep contributing until I'm back."

"Exactly what I'd expect from you."

"Not too soft for your pit wall, then?"

"Terrifying," he said flatly.

She smiled, just a little. "Good."

—

The paddock in Suzuka had always felt different. Not quieter — the energy here was as high as anywhere — but more... reverent. Like the corners themselves held history. Every garage whispered with ritual and rhythm, the hum of a place that demanded precision. Amelia had always liked it.

This time, it felt harder to keep pace.

She was twenty-six weeks pregnant. The travel was getting trickier. Her hips ached more after every flight, and her ankles didn't always bounce back the way they used to. But she hadn't missed a session, not yet. She was still Oscar's race engineer, still elbow-deep in data and debriefs. Still herself.

Mostly.

It was Saturday afternoon when she realised she'd started leaning against the pit wall more often than not — subtle, casual, one hand on the railing like she was just watching sector deltas scroll past. Tom had noticed. He didn't say anything, but he started keeping one ear open on comms, watching her line of sight when Oscar came in from a run.

She appreciated it.

And the team, maybe for the first time, really saw her. Not just as Zak's daughter. Not just as the woman Lando went home to. But as Amelia. The one who rebuilt the simulation code base. The one who restructured McLaren's comms protocols to reduce data lag by half. The one who kept Oscar focused even when he was ready to snap.

Her notes were tighter than ever. Her briefings were concise, efficient. She stopped double-checking her own voice before speaking on the radio. She let herself lead.

It was Oscar's best qualifying session yet.

Lando was P4. Oscar P5. Both cars within half a tenth.

And by Sunday evening, after a clean, hard race that left both drivers exhausted but intact, McLaren had walked away with solid double points and zero drama.

No risky overtakes. No strategic infighting. Just clarity.

In the garage after the race, Oscar leaned his forearms on the back of Amelia's chair and peered at her screen.

"You're glowing."

"I'm sweating," she said flatly.

He grinned. "Same thing."

Lando came in a few minutes later, hair damp, suit unzipped to his waist. He looked drained, but good. Sharp in that post-race way, nerves still hot under the surface.

Amelia turned in her seat and pressed a cold bottle of water into his hand. He took it with a murmured thanks and then crouched beside her chair like he just needed to be close. She let him lean against her knee.

Oscar watched them for a second, then said, "So... there's a break coming up now, right?"

Amelia raised an eyebrow. "Yes."

"Right," Oscar continued. "So what if, just what if, we went somewhere that wasn't a hotel or a racetrack or an airport lounge?"

Lando blinked. "Like a holiday?"

Oscar gestured between them. "You two are about to have a whole new person. I figure you deserve a few days of fake retirement before everything changes."

Amelia narrowed her eyes. "Would you be joining us on this so-called fake retirement?"

He didn't even flinch. "Of course. I'm the honorary family dog. Can't shake me."

Lando snorted. "I mean... a quiet week somewhere would be good. Somewhere warm. No cameras."

"Somewhere with pillows," Amelia added. "And comfortable sun loungers and mocktails on tap."

Oscar nodded solemnly. "Somewhere where Amelia doesn't have to wear shoes if she doesn't want to. I'll look into it."

She should've said no; there was too much to do. Too much to plan. Too many timelines and checklists still open. But she felt Lando's hand on her leg and Oscar's unshakeable grin and the soft thrum of the post-race lull all around them, and something inside her relented.

"Fine," she said, slowly. "But I'm vetoing a resort. I want privacy."

Oscar threw up his hands. "So picky."

"I'm allowed to be picky." She said.

"Yeah." He agreed.

Lando just smiled, tired and soft, like he couldn't quite believe this was his life.

And Amelia, sore-backed and sun-drenched and more herself than she'd felt in months, reached for her water and let herself breathe.

They'd go. Maybe they'd do nothing. Maybe she'd watch Lando fall asleep by a pool while Oscar got sunburned and insisted he wasn't. Maybe it would be good.

Maybe it would be rest.

—

The villa in Mallorca was rented under Oscar's name, but Amelia had commandeered it within five minutes. There were towels folded with hotel-precision on the beds, blackout curtains in every room, and a fridge that had already been stocked to her specifications. No sparkling water, no orange juice with bits, and an entire shelf dedicated to cut fruit and unseasoned carbs.

They had a pool. They had sun. Lando had somehow acquired a ridiculous straw hat shaped like a watermelon slice. Oscar had already been banned from cannonballing before 10 a.m.

Amelia was stretched on a sun lounger, sunglasses on, iPad open across her knees — not working, just tweaking a grocery list and glancing occasionally at the group chat where Max was demanding selfies every hour. Her bump sat proudly in the centre of her soft grey dress, round and obvious now, rising gently with every breath.

Lando floated by in the pool, arms hooked lazily over a pool noodle. "What're you doing?"

"Thinking."

"About what?"

She tapped a note open on her tablet. "Maternity leave."

Oscar groaned from the deck chair beside her, where he was eating an unpeeled nectarine like a feral animal. "It's a holiday. Why are you using work words?"

"It's literally not a work word," she said. "It's a logistics plan. And it directly impacts both of you."

That got their attention.

Lando paddled toward the edge, resting his chin on his arms like a golden retriever. "Go on."

She flipped to the next page in her document. "Okay. So. I'll officially step away after Imola. That gives me time to finish the first round of upgrades and oversee Oscar's spec setup for Monaco and Canada."

Oscar looked nervous. "Who's covering me?"

"Tom Stallard."

"Oh." He blinked. "That's fine."

"You'll still have access to my notes," she added, glancing over her glasses. "I'll be consulting remotely until I give birth — probably from the MTC in Woking, or my mom's house, depending on how uncomfortable I am. You'll both send me debriefs. You will not filter them."

Oscar raised a hand. "Will there be snacks at your mom's? Because I can be convinced to travel there between every race."

"There will obviously be snacks."

Lando looked at her. "How long, baby? Six weeks, eight? You can take the rest of the season if you want. I'll come back to you between every race, no matter what."

"I haven't decided yet," she said simply. "Eight weeks, maybe. Depends on the birth, my recovery, and how you two act without me here. But when I come back, I'll walk straight back into the role. No stepping-stone. No reduced hours. That's already been agreed with Zak and Andrea."

Lando gave a short nod. "Okay. That sounds good." He pursed his lips. "And baby girl...?"

"Baby girl will be with me at all times." She said firmly. "And when I'm on the pit wall, she'll be with my mom. She's already agreed to travel with us. I don't want to hire somebody I don't know to look after our daughter." She told him.

He nodded in agreement. "My mum's already offered to travel with us, dad too. To step in whenever we need a break."

Oscar chewed his nectarine like he was thinking hard. Then, finally, "When I win, can I take the baby on the podium with me?"

Amelia stared at him with genuine horror. "No!"

Oscar blinked.

Lando laughed so hard he nearly choked on pool water.

Amelia looked up at the sky. "I just don't want you to act weird about it. I'm pregnant, not vanishing. I love this job. I worked hard for it. I'll rest, I'll recover, and I'll come back."

Oscar gave a slow, half-serious salute.

Lando climbed out of the pool, water dripping down his arms, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "You don't need to prove anything to us. You know that."

Oscar tossed his nectarine pit into a paper cup. "This baby's going to be a real Grid Kid."

Lando grinned. "I love that."

Oscar pointed at her. "You should get McLaren to make her some branded tiny noise-cancelling headphones."

"I already sent the request," Amelia said.

There was a pause.

Oscar grinned. "God, you're gonna be so good at this."

Lando said nothing, just reached down and threaded their fingers together.

Amelia leaned back, letting the sun find her face. Her feet were propped on a folded towel. Her boys were here, quiet and safe and ridiculous.

And the baby kicked once, just a soft nudge, as if to say: 'I'm here too.'

—

The Shanghai International Circuit thrummed with heat and movement — engineers hunched over telemetry, mechanics rolling tyres with military precision, the air sharp with rubber and tension and something metallic beneath. Amelia kept her pace steady, one hand curved just under her bump like an afterthought, posture instinctively counterbalanced. Twenty-seven weeks pregnant, and the world still spun the same.

She’d just wrapped a meeting with Oscar and his strategists, short, sharp, effective, and was heading back toward the McLaren hospitality suite when Lando appeared, all loose limbs and narrowed eyes, like he’d been looking for her.

“Hey,” he said softly, already scanning her face. “You look pale, baby.”

Amelia exhaled through her nose. “Just the usual dizziness. I’m fine.”

But Lando didn’t look convinced. His gaze drifted downward to the slope of her belly like he could assess her blood pressure with a glance. “Maybe you should take a break. Put your feet up for a bit.”

Before she could offer a rebuttal, Zak appeared on her left, all brisk concern and the slight lean of a man about to intervene. “Honey, I was just about to say the same thing. You’ve been on your feet all morning.”

Amelia glanced between the two of them, arms crossed over her chest, jaw set. “I’m fine.”

“Yes,” Zak said evenly. “But you’re also very, very pregnant, in thirty-degree heat.”

“I’ll take a short break,” she muttered, already heading toward the suite. “Eat something. I’m hungry anyway. Can we find some noodles? Plain ones.”

“Yeah, of course,” Lando said quickly, falling into step beside her.

Inside the hospitality suite, the air was blissfully cool. Amelia sank onto a wide, cushioned chair near the far window and peeled off her cap. A cool drink appeared in her hand, water, with ice and a slice of cucumber, and she leaned back, one hand absentmindedly tracing the ridge of her stomach through her t-shirt. The baby shifted. Not a kick, but a gentle roll, like she was stretching.

A few feet away, near the coffee bar, Zak and Lando lingered; not hovering, exactly, but tethered to her like satellites.

“When she was a kid,” Zak said quietly, arms folded, voice pitched low, “she didn’t cry when she grazed her knees. Not once. Just stood there, blinking, blood running down her leg. It’s like... she feels pain, but her brain doesn’t flag it as urgent. Doesn’t know what to do with it.”

Lando’s jaw flexed. “Yeah. I know.” He was watching her like he always did when she wasn’t watching him — careful, like she was made of glass and iron in equal measure. “She pushes herself harder than anyone I’ve ever met. But I’m watching. I know the signs now. When she’s close to the edge and pretending not to be.”

Zak blew out a breath, not quite a sigh. “Wish I could wrap her in bubble wrap.”

Lando huffed something like agreement. “Yeah. Same. But she’d kick our asses if we tried.”

Zak chuckled. “She gets that from her mother.”

Across the room, Amelia caught their eyes and squinted. “Are you talking about me?”

“No,” they said in unison.

She narrowed her eyes but let it go, already distracted by the appearance of a steaming bowl of noodles being dropped in front of her. 

“This is nice,” she said between mouthfuls.

Lando pursed his lips to hide his smile. 

—

By late afternoon, the circuit had settled into its usual Friday-eve rhythm: cars back in the garage, radios quieter, engineers drifting between briefings and laptops. Amelia finished updating Oscar’s setup notes and slipped her headset off, the weight of it leaving a faint pressure along her jaw.

She spotted Tom near the back of the garage — arms folded, watching the data feed scroll across a nearby monitor. He looked focused, but not too busy. Good.

Amelia adjusted the fit of her polo over her bump, grabbed a spare iPad, and walked over with the steady confidence of someone who expected to be listened to. “Got a second?” She asked, already flipping the tablet around.

Tom straightened. “Always.”

“I want you to start shadowing me properly,” she said. “From now on. Every session. Every debrief. From now until I step back.”

Tom blinked, just once. “Already?”

“Yes, I want both os us to be prepared for any eventuality,” she told him. “You’ll be the most important to Oscar during my leave. And I want the transition to be as seamless as possible for him.”

He nodded slowly. “Understood.”

“You’ll do fine,” she added, tapping the iPad awake. “I know that you’ve got great credentials, and you’re calm, just like my ducky. But I want it done right. You’re not just reading notes — you’re learning how I communicate with Oscar. How I time interventions. Where I let him drive through issues and where I call it early. The tone matters. The silence matters more.”

Tom’s gaze sharpened. “I can do that.”

“I know,” she said simply. “That’s why I requested you specifically.”

A pause. Not long. Just enough for her to glance sideways and see Zak watching from across the garage, arms still crossed, nodding to himself like he approved of the moment without needing to step in.

“I’ll be available to you remotely,” she continued. “From MTC or home in Surrey. You’ll always be able to get in touch if something’s unclear or we need to adjust mid-weekend. But I want you confident enough that you won’t have to.”

Tom looked down at her bump, not long, just a flicker of respectful acknowledgment, and then back at her eyes. “How far out are you planning to step back?”

“Before summer break,” she said. “Likely after Monaco. I want a clean split before Imola. She’s due in late June, early July, and I want to be home by then.”

He nodded again, solid as always. “Alright. I’ll start sitting in properly tomorrow.”

“Good.” She closed the tablet. “And Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“If he complains that you’re not me, remind him I handpicked you. And that he has to do what you say — because I said so.”

Tom grinned. “Got it.”

Amelia turned to go, but paused after a few steps and looked back over her shoulder. “Don’t screw this up, Stallard. For your own sake. I get mean when anybody messes with my boys.”

—

The McLaren war room wasn’t called that officially, but Amelia couldn’t think of a better name. It was tucked behind closed doors at the back of the motorhome, with tinted windows, air-con humming softly, and a huge screen already displaying performance graphs and strategy overlays from the Shanghai Grand Prix.

Lando’s P2 had been hard-earned. Strategic brilliance, excellent tire management, clean defensive driving. Amelia had been proud; of him, of the team, of how the car had performed under pressure.

Oscar had come home P6. No mistakes. Just a race that didn’t quite go his way.

And now, with a double points finish in their pocket and the start of a momentum swing building, they were all squeezed into this meeting to talk about the future.

Specifically: team orders.

“Look,” one of the strategy leads was saying, gesturing toward the display. “We’re in a unique position this season. The car’s competitive. But so are both drivers. Very evenly matched. We should just let them race.”

A few people around the table nodded, murmured agreement. “It’s the fairest approach,” someone else added. “No favouritism. Trust the drivers to race clean.”

“Right,” another chimed in. “Papaya rules—no number one, no number two. No intervention unless absolutely necessary.”

Amelia leaned back in her chair, one hand resting protectively on her bump, the other spinning a pen idly through her fingers. She waited a beat.

Then, calmly, “That’s idiotic.”

Silence.

She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to.

“Letting them race without clear structure is how you lose the team points,” she continued. “It’s how you make emotionally reactive decisions mid-race. It’s how you create resentment—because eventually, one of them will get burned by a call that felt arbitrary. Or too late. Or unfair.”

Zak shifted in his seat but didn’t interrupt. He’d seen her like this before; measured, relentless.

“They’re not in go-karts,” Amelia said. “This isn’t about playground ethics. It’s about execution. Maximising constructor points. Sustaining morale. Keeping both of them an integral part of the long-term plan.”

Someone across the table sighed. “Come on, you think they’ll be okay with one of them being prioritised just because they’ve had a cleaner race that day? Even if the other was leading the championship?”

“Yes,” she said flatly. “I do think that. Because unlike any o you, I’ve already spoken to them about this. At length. Separately. Together. After Bahrain. After Jeddah. Again last night.” She let the silence settle. Let them exchange awkward glances as they realised how on the back-foot they all. “They know what’s at stake. They understand that in a scenario where one of them is consistently faster, cleaner, or better-positioned based on live data, that driver will be prioritised for that race. It’s not a demotion. It’s not a snub. It’s a race-by-race performance-based call.”

“But—” someone began.

She cut them off. “They agreed it would make them both better. Force them to be cleaner, smarter, more strategic. Push each other. Because the moment it’s not based on merit, we undermine the value of their work. And we risk both of them driving more emotionally than tactically.”

Zak finally leaned forward. “You’re saying… no open racing. Just structured flexibility.”

“I’m saying we don’t throw them into a burning building with no fire exits,” Amelia said. “We guide them. We explain our decisions. And we make it crystal clear: we back the driver who’s executed the better race. Full stop.”

She sat back.

No one argued.

After a long pause, one of the older engineers finally muttered, “Hell of a thing when the drivers trust each other more than the people in this room do.”

Amelia arched a brow. “They trust each other because I made sure of that.” She tapped her pen twice on the table. “And because they trust me to be impartial.”

Another beat of silence passed. Then Zak stood.

“Alright,” he said. “Then that’s how it’ll be. We back merit. We run data-forward. Amelia writes the internal protocol. Full review before Miami.”

The meeting dissolved shortly after.

As she stood, Lando appeared in the doorway, fresh from his media obligations. He glanced at her with that careful, familiar look he always gave her after long meetings—curious, proud, a little smug.

“How’d it go?”

She smiled faintly. “You and Oscar are getting merit-based strategy rules. No fighting each other unless it makes sense on the timing screens.”

“Perfect,” Lando said. “I’ll just have to be better than him every week, then.”

Amelia smacked his chest lightly with her folder on the way out. “You can try.”

—

The paddock had mostly emptied by the time Amelia caught up with Oscar. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and the long shadows made the garages feel colder than they were. He was leaning against a stack of tyre blankets near the back of the garage, in a pair of sweats. A half-drunk sports drink hung from his fingers.

He noticed her before she spoke, gave her a tired little smile.

“Fun meeting?” He asked dryly. "I assume it ended with someone muttering something like, 'well, Amelia knows best.'"

She smiled faintly. “Not in those words. But close.”

He looked away, nodding. “So… the strategy thing.”

“Yeah,” she said, stepping up beside him. “They agreed. It's what makes sense.”

Oscar didn’t reply immediately. He wasn’t sulking, that wasn’t his way, but he was being cautious about this. Amelia respected him for that. Always had.

“You’re not going to be sidelined,” she said quietly. “Not ever. But I won’t let you two cannibalise each other. It’s not about protecting Lando. It’s not about picking favourites. It’s about making strategic calls when they matter.”

“I know,” Oscar said. “I get it. I just…” He trailed off, rolling the bottle between his hands. “It’s frustrating, you know?” He added after a second. “To feel like I’m just outside the sweet spot. Every weekend. Not far off. Just not quite there.”

Amelia nodded. “Yeah. I know. But you’re not behind, Oscar. You were still a rookie last year, yeah? And you had a car that you couldn’t drive because it was all-but underivable. I never expected you to walk into this season and get consistent podium finishes. You’re in development. The best kind. The kind that’s going to make you seriously dangerous by midseason. You don’t want to peak now — you want to be ready to win, and keep winning, when it happens.”

Oscar gave her a side-eye. “Midseason, huh?”

“On track, in briefings, in strategy meetings, you’re my priority. Just like Lando is Will’s. So trust me when I say that we will make a data-driven decision to protect your race when it's yours. The same goes for Lando. Neither of you is owed a position. You earn it. And you’ve earned plenty.”

He exhaled, long and slow.

She hesitated for half a second, then added, “Also, you’re the only person who can get under Lando’s skin just by existing, so please don’t stop doing that.”

Oscar snorted. “Oh, I plan to keep annoying him.”

“Good. That’s your most valuable skill.”

They both smiled. The moment settled into something comfortable.

Then Amelia said, softer, “they wanted to let you fight it on the track. No structure. One of you gets an earlier pit, the other would be fucked, because there wouldn’t be any kind of structure.”

Oscar looked at her.

“The structure. The clarity. The mutual understanding,” she continued. “Osc, when everything is vague and reactive and drivers are forced to figure it out mid-race, it screws with your head. I won’t do that to you. Either of you.”

He gave a small nod. “Thanks.”

“And when Tom steps in while I’m off,” she added, “he’ll follow it the same way. Because you’ll help him. And because you’ll remember we built it together.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “When do we start calling it the Papaya Doctrine?”

“When you win your first race of the season,” she said without missing a beat.

“Cheeky.”

“Motivated,” she corrected, then pushed gently off the wall and turned to head back inside. “C’mon. Let’s go find Lando.”

Oscar followed, more relaxed now. Lighter.

And when they reached the motorhome, he reached up and tapped the scan photo Amelia had stuck to the communal fridge earlier that week.

“Little engineer better be on my side,” he said under his breath.

Amelia didn’t even turn. “Sorry. She’s already a daddy’s girl.”

—

It was late afternoon in Monaco. Amelia had slipped away from the apartment, sipping on a decaf iced latte and pretending her ankles weren’t already starting to hate her.

She didn’t expect Max to be walking in the same neihbourhood, but he was—of course he was. He veered off course like it was second nature, grin crooked, sunglasses pushed up into his hair.

“Zusje,” he said by way of greeting, already wrapping her in a loose, familiar hug. “You’re massive.”

Amelia made a face. “Max.”

He stepped back to take a better look. “No, I meant — I just mean that—"

“I think that you should just stop talking,” she said flatly.

Max held his hands up in surrender, then leaned against the wall ledge beside her. They sat in companionable silence for a moment. 

Then she said, without ceremony, “It’s a girl.”

Max blinked. “Seriously?”

She nodded, and for a second, something unreadable crossed his face; surprise, maybe, or just the weight of knowing. Then he smiled. Big. Soft. “She’s gonna be trouble,” he said.

“I know.”

“She’ll be outdriving Lando by age twelve.”

Amelia grinned. “Obviously.”

Max looked at her a long moment, then reached out and tapped a gentle knuckle against her arm. “You’d be a good mum to any baby. But a little girl will be so, so lucky to have you, Amelia.”

It was simple, unadorned. But the words wrapped around her heart like a fuzzy blanket. “Thanks,” she said, and meant it.

He hesitated a second longer, then added, “And if you want to name her Maxine, you know...”

“Absolutely not.”

He laughed. “Can’t blame me for trying.”

Maxine. God forbid.

Still — she’d always known he’d be the first to joke about it.

And the first to show up if she ever needed him.

—

amelianorris just posted . . .

amelianorris Baby Girl 💖

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, mclaren and 5.2m others

Tagged: landonorris

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landonorris outnumbered already ❤️ by amelianorris

user47 I'm crying girl!dad Lando makes so much sense to me

user13 THIS BEING HER 5TH EVER INSTAGRAM POST??????

pietra.pilao Already the most loved little girl in the world!

user53 pls i don't mean to be parasocial but i rly hope they share baby girl norris' name because i bet its going to be so beautiful

mclaren Limited edition PINK caps are available in the McLaren online store right now! While stocks remain 💘

NEXT CHAPTER

[lorarri]

★ . . . 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐏 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 , 𝐋𝐍𝟒

summary , when making a guest appearance on your youtube series chicken shop date you were surprised by how much you actually enjoyed his company and the rest was history

pairing , lando norris x fem! youtuber! reader

main masterlist | f1 masterlist | lando norris masterlist

yourinstagram now playing: friday - riton, nightcrawlers, mufasa & hypeman

liked by landonorris charles_leclerc 89,279,365 others

yourinstagram landonorris has my heart racing 🏎️ chickenshopdate out Friday !

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user Lando is literally perfect for this you don't understand

user brb need a pit stop you two are too good together ❤️‍🔥

user ICONIC collab 😮‍💨🙌🏽

user cold

charles_leclerc me next??? ⤷ landonorris no she mine ⤷ yourinstagram ummmmm since when sirrrr

user STOP STOP STOP IM SCREAMING!!!!!!!!

user He’s P1 in our hearts 😍🧡

user Get him some fish sticks

user ok song choice, you know what’s up

user can already hear his giggles

user Yeah, we needed this for sure

user IT'S FRIDAY THENNN 🕺

user Lando buzzing that he gets to eat a proper meal for once 😂

user At this point I don’t watch for the celebrities, I watch for Y/N.

user the capri sun is so iconic

user Weird, I’m jealous of a ketchup bottle

user BROOO IS THAT HOW IT FEELS TO GO ON A DATE WITH LANDOOO!???? cause im in

user We can’t gatekeep him anymore😭

user So this is what a date with Lando Norris is like?

user not him and charles beefing in the comments over Y/N 😭😭

user 😭 HOW 😭 DOES 😭 IT 😭 FEEL 😭 TO 😭 BE 😭 LIVING 😭 MY 😭DREAM 😭

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yourinstagram . 2hrs ago

seen by landonorris maxverstappen1 57,279,364 others

landonorris replied to your story!

you love me really

no comment

yourinstagram

yourinstagram The secret is out 💋 chickenshopdate with landonorris out now!

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user RUNNING TO WATCH RN

user Y/N if you don’t I will

user Please make out with every guest, okay thank you bye

user STOP SMILING MAN WHAT THE HECK HE IS SO CUTE

user “i’m down” fell to my knees in the grocery store

user LMFAOO the way she answered “playing hard to get” too😭😭😭😭

user The LIP BITE after the ‘even hotter if I was in there’ 😅😅😅 OH MY

user LMAO she still didn’t follow him back😭😭😭😭😭

user lmk when someone writes this fanfic pls

user Y/N. This man is in love with you.

user Man was offended by "thats why your not winning" 😭

user Nah because they’re cuteeeee together 😩😩

user Wow I think I might like this one more than the one with central cee 😭

user Freaking get married right now

user he’s so bashful loveeee

user best duo ever ahahahahaah so chaotic

user Wasn’t long enough!!!!! 😭😭

user Okay, now I need every F1 racer to do chicken shop date

user This is a real date

user Lmao, best crossover

user This is illegal 😭 too cute😍

user PLS HE COULDN'T EVEN STOP BLUSHING 😩😩😩

user Amelia, this is so darn cute, please just date him already

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Y/N L/N → LANDO NORRIS | CHICKEN SHOP DATE

landonorris

liked by yourinstagram carlossainz55 89,265,186 others

landonorris Gonna go get my appendix removed. Apparently you do it and you win a race soooooo…. congrats Carlitos 🌶️ #weightloss

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user CARLANDO. 🙏

yourinstagram Yay you were faster !!! 😍 xxx ⤷ landonorris all for you bae ⤷ user 😭💀 ⤷ user CSD effect💅 ⤷ user HELP HE WAS ⤷ user followed him back after getting on the podium 😂😂😂 ⤷ user it’s the power of love….🎶 ⤷ user more Y/N motivation 😍😍😍👏👏 ⤷ user FAV WAG 🥰 ⤷ user the most supportive gf for real ⤷ user not him calling her bae on the main

user What a duo 🔥

user Another Carlando podium….Another happy day 😁

user every racing driver about to go remove their appendix

user CARLANDO NATION! WE WON 🧡❤️

user All drivers take notes 📝 🤣🤣

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landonorris and yourinstagram . 4hrs ago

seen by carlossainz55 charles_leclerc 79,394,579 others

charles_leclerc replied to yourinstagram story!

so is this still a no for that chicken shop date??

get lando's blessing and then we'll talk

[russo-woso]

can we get a mini williamson blurb on the conti cup final, where r is happy for them winning but concerned about leah’s knee, leah reassures her with kisses and words of affirmation, they also have a picture with the trophy infront of the supporters… while the kids are running riot with less and kyra pls

Proud of you || Leah Williamson x reader

Part of the Mini Williamson universe.

I absolutely love writing parts to this universe. I know my requests are closed but if you have any requests for this universe, please send them in 🤍

Summary The conti cup final brings many emotions, some being pride and worry.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“I’m so proud of you, Le.” You told her as you engulfed her in a hug, the hug being quite restricted due to your bump.

“Thank you, love.” Leah whispered into your hair.

You finally pulled apart so Leah could pick up Amelia.

“You win, mummy!” Ami exclaimed and Leah nodded, a proud smile on her face.

“I did, and it’s all for you, bubba. And your mama and sister.” Leah explained, pressing kisses to Amelia’s face.

“Ami! Come!” Alessia’s hoarse voice said from across the pitch.

“Lessi, no shouting! Rest your voice.” You told her and she nodded.

Alessia had been sick the past week and you were doing your best to get her better, although you couldn’t control her immune system.

Leah put Amelia down and Ami went running to Alessia, nearly tripping over several times, but eventually made it to her in one piece.

“How’s your knee? I was so worried when you came off. I thought something had—” You began but Leah cut you off.

“—It’s perfect, baby. They took me off for precaution. They didn’t want me to overdo it.” Leah explained and you nodded, tears welling in your eyes. “Why you sad, love?”

“It’s just… I don’t want you to have to go through that again. And I’m just so proud of you.” You told her, trying your best not to cry.

“Oh, baby, it’s okay. Come, dry them tears and we’ll have a picture taken with the trophy.” Leah said, and you nodded.

Leah took the trophy off Katie, guiding you over to the arsenal section before getting the media person to take a picture.

One of the pictures was just a cute photo of you and Leah with the trophy.

Another was one of Leah kissing your bump.

And the final one was Leah kissing your cheek but in the background, Alessia, Kyra and Amelia had photobombed, all three of them pulling funny faces.

They all started running around again whilst you and Leah just looked at them in adoration.

“Do we have three children or just one?” Leah rolled her eyes, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you inevitably closer.

“You love them, Le. Don���t deny it.” You said with a playful smirk.

“Sure.” Leah smiled, before pressing a long and gently kiss to your lips.

“I’m so proud, Le. Another trophy that you’ve helped get.” You told her once you broke away from the kiss.

“The biggest one is you though.”

“Stop with the flirting, Williamson. I’m married you know.” You smirked

“Yeah, to me.”

[mapiforpresident]

Prompt 55 with Alessia Russo pls

Let's Make a Baby

Alessia x reader

warnings: baby

~~~

Amelia is perched on the living room floor, her little face serious as she cradles her favorite baby doll in her arms. She’s been engrossed in her make-believe world for a while now, talking softly to her doll about feeding times and naps, much like Katie and Caitlin do with their new baby. You’re cuddled on the couch with Alessia, her arm draped lazily around your shoulders as the two of you steal a rare moment of calm.

“Look at her,” Alessia murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “She’s so good with that doll. She’s definitely been taking notes from Katie.”

You hum in agreement, smiling as Amelia tucks the doll under a tiny blanket. Just as you’re about to comment on how cute she looks, Amelia looks up, her expression curious but completely earnest.

“Mama? Mummy?” she says, tilting her head.

“Yes, darling?” you reply, leaning forward slightly.

Amelia pauses for a moment before blurting out, “Can you and Mummy make another baby?”

You and Alessia freeze for half a second before bursting into laughter. Amelia stares at you both, confused but unfazed, as if she doesn’t understand what’s so funny.

“Oh, love,” Alessia says, trying to suppress her giggles. “That’s… quite the question!”

“Why do you want another baby, sweetheart?” you ask gently, brushing a curl from Amelia’s face.

“Because babies are cute!” she declares matter-of-factly, holding up her doll as evidence. “And I wanna be a big sister! I can help feed it and play with it, and it can sleep in my room!”

You glance at Alessia, who’s biting her lip to keep from laughing again. She leans in and whispers, “She has no idea how much work a real baby is.”

“No clue,” you whisper back, trying not to smile too wide. Turning back to Amelia, you say, “That’s very sweet of you, love. Being a big sister is a big job, though. Are you sure you’re ready for that responsibility?”

Amelia nods enthusiastically, her curls bouncing. “Uh-huh! I’ll be the best big sister ever! Like… like a superhero big sister!”

“Well, with a pitch like that, how can we say no?” Alessia teases, giving you a playful nudge.

Amelia beams at the perceived victory, then goes back to fussing over her doll, muttering about needing to change its nappy.

Once she’s distracted, Alessia leans closer, her voice low. “Well, Mama, what do you think? Shall we give her what she’s asking for?”

You smirk, tilting your head toward her. “Oh, so you’re saying we should start trying for another baby after she goes to bed?”

Alessia bursts out laughing, covering her face with her hand. “You’re terrible!”

“Am I wrong, though?” you tease, grinning at her.

She shakes her head, still laughing, but there’s a softness in her eyes as she looks at you. “Seriously, though… what do you think?”

“I think it’s time,” you say, your voice warm and steady. “We’ve talked about it for a while now, and I know Amelia would love it. I’m ready if you are.”

Alessia smiles, reaching over to intertwine her fingers with yours. “I’m ready, too. Let’s do it.”

That evening, after Amelia’s bedtime routine—a whirlwind of bubble baths, bedtime stories, and a heartfelt goodnight hug—she’s finally asleep in her room. You and Alessia settle back into the quiet of the living room, the earlier conversation still lingering in the air.

“Do you think she really understands what she’s asking for?” Alessia asks, her tone amused but thoughtful.

“Not a chance,” you say with a laugh. “But she’ll be an amazing big sister, even if she doesn’t know what it means yet.”

Alessia leans in, resting her forehead against yours. “I think we’re ready for this next adventure, don’t you?”

“Absolutely,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to her lips.

“And for the record,” Alessia adds with a cheeky grin, “you’re still terrible for that ‘trying for a baby’ comment earlier.”

You laugh, pulling her closer. “You love it.”

“Maybe,” she admits, her laughter joining yours as you begin planning the next chapter of your little family’s story.

~~~~

Buy me a coffee here. I am an extremely broke college student and literally anything helps.

[wheeboo]

JOSHUA WOULD DEF BE ONE OF THE RICH ASS MFS BYEEE 😭😭 he would be SUCH A SHOW OFF TOO. god

LMAOO YES THESE KIDS R ABSOLUTE BRATS BRO its actually terrifying

minghao and joshua being those RICH ass besties fr AS THEY SHOULD BE. everyone would be afraid of them

also i played fashion famous for the first time with my friends like,, last week and it was so fun AND funny LMAOO

seventeen as games they would play on roblox

FEATURING. seventeen (ot13) GENRE. headcanons WORD COUNT. 552 

notes: this is purely just for shits and giggles. ty @haecien for sparking the idea on discord and @yeonjuns-redhair for helping me LMAO. i was such a roblox nerd back then pls don't question me thank u. this game traumatized me fr.

scoups - mm2/arsenal/phantom forces: bro would be such a try hard whenever he becomes murderer or sheriff in mm2. he would also own like all the damn legendary knives, guns, knife effects, prob has hella robux and connections to get all those, might also play obnoxious audios on his radio to assert dominance. arsenal and phantom forces is self-explainable since he's pretty good at rpg games

jeonghan - brookhaven/free admin games: is definitely trolling and scaring people on brookhaven or any roleplay game lmfao. would pretend to be their child just for him to turn his avatar into the most terrifying monster ever and make people rage quit. he'd easily take over those games that grant free admin, literally everyone would be under his fingers

joshua - royale high: shua was hard since he doesn't rlly play video games? he would def not be into these competitive games. i can see him having fun dressing up his avatar in royale high for some reason. would prob lowkey be an annoying troll

jun - adopt me: self-explanatory. the top of his bucket list is to adopt all pets possible in the game. might even find ways to scam people out of their stuff (my cousin does this, don't be like her).

hoshi - jailbreak: he likes chaotic games. he brings chaos to the server. tries to also bribe woozi into playing with him so they can both be the Richest Lads in the server. either that or he absolutely sucks at playing the game and keeps getting arrested by the police.

wonwoo - tower of hell/dungeon quest/arsenal/doors: can't really decide on one. he's pretty versatile with his games but i think he mainly prefers battle strategy games and fighting games. would definitely complete a tower of hell obby in less than a minute fr. is probably on the leaderboard of dungeon quest and has all the legendary spells, armour, and weapons. he's also completely fine with anything horror

woozi - those anime sims n fighting games/robeats: personally i have never played any of those anime fighting games ever but he would def be the one to enjoy them the most. he'd also continuously get hella high scores on robeats

dk - work at a pizza place: no explanation needed. he is living his life as a cook and delivery person

mingyu - theme park tycoon/natural disaster survival: i found mingyu to be hard as well LMAO. i feel like he could make a bomb ass theme park in theme park tycoon tho. either that or he's getting freaked out over the blocky tsunami coming his way

minghao - bloxburg/royale high/those fashion games: ahh he's living his life designing his perfect dream home and definitely has all the gamepasses. has the best fashion in royale high. would definitely spend his robux to get VIP so he can get access to the Better clothes in those fashion games (fun fact: i'm banned on bloxburg cuz i'm just too damn good 😔)

seungkwan - pls donate/works in a group: has the prettiest booth in pls donate so he can get robux but is constantly arguing with the nine year olds who are begging for him to donate to them. might also be an MR/HR/SR at a group

vernon - bee swam simulator: no thoughts, just vernon playing bee swarm simulator being the best thing ever

dino - speed run: constantly frustrated over each time he falls off the map. he never makes it to the end

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9

[atlasdoe]

what r ur least fav characterisations/headcannons/things the fandom has decided & what r your favourites?

oh annon OH ANNON

are you flirting with me?

THIS IS LITERALLY MY DREAM ASK EVER OMFG

okay okay okay i'm calm i'm calm

ngl the list is going to be long so i'm going to try to keep things short. if you want me to expand on anything please let me know and i will (i'll also tag any previous posts i've made about these things)

SO

Fannon things I hate:

WILKES BEING A BOY!!!!!!

I also hate it when people try to please everyone and say "there are two Wilkes and they're brother and sister" because you KNOW that the Wilkes who becomes a death eater is the boy. (my Wilkes is Juliette Wilkes and she's THE Wilkes who was friends with Snape, Mulciber and Avery and joined the Death Eaters and was killed by aurors)

Pandora being from a death eater family (mainly the Rosier twins. Nobody hates Pandora Rosier more then me)

Pandora being a seer (Sybill is RIGHT THERE)

Anything that includes Regulus and Evan being forced into the death eaters, or joining to protect their siblings, or secretly being spy's for the Order or trying to get into the Order

Barty Crouch Sr being anything worse then neglectful that somehow justifys what Barty Jr did

Marlene being a Gryffindor (Ravenclaw Marlene 4life)

Emmeline Vance having ANYTHING to do with the Slytherins (where tf did the hc that she was friends with Evan come from😭)

James, Peter and Marlene being childhood best friends (i hc that Marlene and Peter were but not James)

Remus being mean/violent/being able to stand his ground at all

Remus going to the Slytherins after the prank (literally why would be do that??)

THE PRANK BEING A BIG DEAL AND SIRIUS LOSING ALL OF HIS FRIENDS BECAUSE OF IT PLSSSS NOBODY CARED APART FROM SNAPE

Also speaking of Snape, the idea that Regulus, Barty and Evan would've hated him or taken The Marauders side over his. (Evan is canonically Snapes friend y'all)

The Marauders and the Skittles getting along/hanging out together

Remus and Regulus being friends

James being a people pleaser

Dumbledore being this evil manipulator who forced a bunch of children into the Order

Similarly, the idea that Dumbledore could've "saved" Regulus, Evan and Barty from the Death Eaters (as if they'd want Dumbledores help to begin with. they were exactly where they wanted to be)

Mary erasing her own memory after the war (or worse, someone else doing it)

Marlene having multiple older brothers (she is suchhhh an oldest daughter pls)

Tall Remus

Short Sirius

And now to my fave things cause I promise I can be positive

Marlene being a lesbian

Remus having a sweet tooth

The hc that Sirius would hex himself to stay in the hospital wing with Remus after a full moon

Lily being the honorary fifth Marauder

Peter and Marlene being childhood best friends (so long as James isn't there i'm good)

Amycus and Alecto Carrow being twins

Amelia and Edgar Bones being twins

Fabian and Gideon Prewett being twins

Sirius playing Quidditch

Marlene and Dorcas being Quidditch rivals

Frank and Alice's friendship with James and Lily

Charity and Aurora also being apart of Snape's Gang

Dorcas being a Slytherin

I love Dorcas' inclusion in the Slytherin Skittles but I do have differing opinions on exactly her opinion of Evan, Barty and Regulus after they joined the death eaters and how their friendship fell apart

Pandora and Regulus being friends

Barty being in the same year as Regulus

Lily and Remus being best friends

Dorcas going rouge and trying to kill Voldemort herself after Marlenes death

James being willing to take a chance on Regulus. (though i do think that once Regulus took the dark mark that was it and James didn't give him a second thought after that)

okay i think that's it for now i'm sorry if i said i hated your favourite thing and again feel free to ask me any follow ups :)

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK!!!!!

[serialadoptersbracket]

Round 5, Match 6: Bell-Mère vs. Professor Hershel Layton

Submitted kids:

Bell-Mère: Nami and Nojiko

Professor Layton: Katrielle, Alfendi, Luke, Flora (+more)

Propaganda under the cut!

Bell-Mère:

“She left the Navy to be their mom after she found them. Nojiko was holding Nami but they aren't related biologically. Bell-Mere was not well off economically but always did her best to make sure they would eat and feel loved. Because it wasn't an official adoption, the family was not recorded as such in the village records. This would have been very helpful when Arlong came to extort "tribute" based on a household's population, however she 1-failed to kill him and 2-would not deny she had two daughters when confronted about the discrepancy. Thus either her or the two girls were covered by the savings... I think you can guess what happened.”

Professor Layton:

“#But anyone who's played PL can tell you Hershel Layton adopts every kid he meets #Even if he doesn't give them a home - he would die for them #Not listed are also: #The Black Ravens #Arianna Barde # Tony Barde #Nina #Amelia Ruth # Janice Quatlane #Melina Whistler #Bonnie/Cookie #Aurora Azran #Katia Anderson #Sammy Thunder #Espella Cantabella #Maya Fey #And so many more”

[dazealigner]

hi hi hi

i have a request! could you write julien x reader where julien is obsessed (in a good way) where she only talks about reader in interviews and stuff

pls pls pls

and thank u

hiii anon !!! i’ve actually thought about this thoroughly in the past so i have a couple of hcs stirred up for you ! but i also wanted to say that @itsrorysstuff has also wrote for this same idea awhile ago and did an amazing job at executing it (:

jb talking about her gf in interviews hcs!

(i’ll preface by saying that jb’s girlfriend is a famous singer-songwriter in this scenario, just because interviewers would then ask about their relationship more frequently and i don’t get why julien would talk about her girlfriend excessively if she wasn’t exposed to the public eye like julien is. also to give some background, i’ll say that they discovered each other’s music prior to their romance and met through a mutual friend, lucy or phoebe perhaps)

because you two both listened to each other’s work way before you guys even started talking, julien definitely brought one of your albums up in the Records In My Life interview and even spends some time analyzing it as well before she’s subtly cut off given the time limit and their remaining questions

there’s occasional mentions of you here and there, to which you reciprocate until finally lucy/phoebe unites you two

and man oh man are lucy and phoebe third and fourth-wheeling because the entire night you two are trading ALL of the compliments and the analyses you’ve been itching to share since the moment you both discovered the other’s work

fast forward to julien and singer-songwriter!gf NOT beating the u-haul lesbian allegations, this is where julien really begins to excessively talk about you

philosophical question? she’ll mention your input on the matter. question about a lyric on the record that you helped with? oh boy that interviewer is in for a ride.

and there’s nothing more phoebe and lucy enjoy than teasing julien about you two’s relationship

“After the show in Dallas, me and Lucy went to grab something to eat, and—” “Wait, where was Julien again?” “You know where she was.”

and julien FLUSHES pink not just because the entirety of the camera crew were exchanging confused glances but because she herself knows where she was and more importantly who she was with

anyways you being known for having schemes up your sleeves when it comes to your albums, julien’s now getting asked about your music as well, and she LOVES it because she knows everything about your upcoming albums in secret and she’s now become apart of the scheming and teasing

if you announce a single release and you wanna hint at its title, let’s say you use the single title in your instagram caption, and then julien somehow finds a way to insert it smoothly into something she’s saying in an interview and lucy and phoebe are like “😏😏” cause they’re in the loop too

and then in the nardwuar interview as he’s handing out the most thoughtful gifts, in the back of julien’s mind, all she’s thinking about is how much you’d love those gifts

“Oh my god, me and my girlfriend were just talking about Trio. .” and phoebe and lucy are snickering from beside her as she goes on a rant about what specifically you two were talking about.

when the boys are on the red carpet for GQ Men of the Year and they’re already all rocking hickies and then they get into the conversation of dates when amelia interviews them…..

“What about you? Have you ever been on a date?” “A date? I’ve been on one.” “Recently, too.”

and on top of her remark, lucy’s eyes trail down to julien’s hickey. not that it’s noticeable in that exact moment, but fans inevitably notice

and finally when you do release any projects you’ve been working on, julien is so incredibly vocal on how well-deserved the recognition you receive is and how proud she is of you. she acknowledges every single hour you spent in the studio and its merit outcome.

and, of course, the level of affection julien shows is obviously reciprocated by singer-songwriter!gf

[jokerislandgirl32]

Yall I'm telling you watch the little red riding hood analog horror trilogy. It'll have you saying "wow" and probably sh!tting yalls pants. It's scary as hell, so, grab a stuffed animal and keep a light on cuz you ain't gonna wanna go into the woods at night after watching it

(Minors below the age of 13:DO. NOT. WATCH. Unless you wanna be more traumatized then Amelia earheart.)

I personally think it's one of the more unsettling analog horror. With the ominous silence and junk. Zach you'll probably scream like a baby so pls just control him-

Zach and Violet’s Response

Violet: Yeah, no…don’t worry, we are NOT watching this. Zach and I are not horror enthusiasts. I will watch things like A Haunting, Extreme Paranormal Witness, and These Woods are Haunted on TV, and I’ve watched the first two movies in The Conjuring Series, Krampus, and some Alfred Hitchcock Movies, but that’s it. I can’t do anything scarier.

Violet: And most of the shows/movies I watch are about hauntings or similar paranormal activity, I’m fascinated by that after losing my parents, it’s just something I gravitated towards…so while it scares me to death I can watch it for this reason. And by scares me to death I mean…I used to watch such programs against my aunt’s wishes as a child. I have forever been terrified of this show right here:

Violet: Ask Zach, I called him crying while he was in college one night and told him my dad’s old deer head had been possessed by the spirit in this episode, and it was going to get me.

Zach: Yeah…I had to travel all the way from New England to North Carolina in one weekend just to help calm her down…then she showed me the freaking episode, and we were both a mess! And her aunt was pissed because she accused me of showing it to Violet!

Zach: I can’t watch anything horror related without having a panic attack! You know the movie The Birds? I watched that with the Kratts and my brother, Zeb, when we were kids, and it horrified me. I still freak out if a bird swoops next to me! So why would I voluntarily show something scary to a 13-year-old knowing it could traumatize her for life?

Zach & Violet: So yeah…No horror shows/movies for us…

[possibilistfanfiction]

More surgeon suffering pls! Maybe bea learning more about Ava’s injury?

[definitely sooo gentle & no present-day suffering lol but here u go]

//

‘you can ask.’

beatrice’s gentle, callused, careful fingers still along your back, their patterns you can’t quite decipher gone quiet. ‘i would never do that.’

her voice is so soft and so relaxed, it’s not at all a reprimand; you can’t say it aloud, not yet, but you love her. you roll over so that you can see the gentle planes of her face through the silvery-blue light from the moon and the night outside her big windows, the blinds not yet drawn. she looks at you openly, patiently, like there’s nothing she wants to take from you; everything she wants to give. you know — in your heart and through your friends and your family and your therapist telling you over and over again — that you have so much to offer: you’re beautiful and funny and very smart, and you love the world more than anyone you know. you also know that beatrice is sometimes less sure of herself than she seems: she clams up every time her parents call, unable to tell them to, unequivocally if it was up to you, fuck off; she loves to be lazy and sleep in and wants no one to know; she still is in the habit of downplaying accomplishments, anything from a surgery she mastered (impressive in that you know how hard it is) to a new route she climbed at the gym (you have no idea but lilith was jealous and you can imagine it’s hot); she’s a horrible cook.

‘i know,’ you say, and you do. you let a finger drift down the bridge of her nose, count her freckles, feel the chapped bow of her lips beneath your thumb. she has a scar, small, through her left brow, and you trace it. ‘what’s this from?’

she smiles, always so quick to understand, always so generous. it makes you feel like you could light up the entire world sometimes. ‘i was five; my brothers were trying to teach me how to rollerblade.’

you think about it: beatrice’s gap-toothed grin and the delightfully terrible bob haircut she had for so much of her early childhood, the photos making you laugh when, unprompted, lilith showed you a few weeks ago when you’d all had dinner at a good oyster place near bea’s house. ‘can you rollerblade now?’

‘no, it frightened me. i never learned.’

‘putting that on the short list of things that scare you. good to know.’

she holds up her right arm so you can see the small scar on her elbow, the skin darker than before. ‘at university, i was drunk and my crush dared me to climb a tree.’

you can’t help the laugh it pulls out of you. ‘oh my.’

she nods. ‘yes, quite. needless to say, amelia and i went our separate ways fairly soon after.’

‘well, her loss. i’d have paid to see you fall out of a tree.’

‘i didn’t fall,’ she says. ‘i scraped my elbow on the way up, but i did continue.’

‘of course you did.’

she shrugs. you trace the scars across her chest, ones you love. 

‘camila told me you tried to go back to classes a week after your surgery. like, the day after you got your drains out.’

bea laughs. ‘yes, and promptly fell fast asleep about three minutes in.’

‘front row?’

‘well, the second.’

‘knew it.’

‘i can keep going, if you like. i have a good story about a scraped knee during field hockey at boarding school.’

‘homoerotic, i hope.’

she rolls her eyes, but based on her silence you know you’re right.

she lets you sit in it, easily, and her house is beautiful and warm and, you’re beginning to think — to hope — it might be full of your things one day, too. it’s easier to be brave here, but your words, the worst of them, still get stuck in your throat. ‘well, what do my scars tell you?’

she weighs it. ‘you know i’m more interested in cardio.’

‘you’re the smartest person i’ve ever met.’

‘well, you favor your left hand when you’re practicing sutures, and i know your left foot gets numb often. you have trouble with temperature regulation and walking long distances, but an easier time standing for the most part; your neck aches, i think all the time.’ she pauses. ‘your handwriting is abysmal, although i suspect that has nothing to do with your injuries.’

you’re about to start crying, but she makes things lighter, even now.

‘all i care about, ava,’ she says, soft and sure, a hand tangled in your hair and then gentle on your cheek, ‘is that you get the care you need, that you tell someone — me or anyone else who can help. and you can tell me whatever you like, if ever you feel ready.’

‘i can’t — i want to.’

she kisses your forehead. ‘like i said. it’ll always be up to you. i’m here.’

you take a deep breath. ‘my mom had a garden,’ you say. ‘she died, uh —‘ you get a little caught, stuck on the way her eyes looked when she wasn’t alive anymore, when you couldn’t move, when you were stuck for so long, screaming and so, so scared — ‘she grew all kinds of vegetables.’ your voice shakes but beatrice only nods. ‘and flowers. we were going to —‘ you sniffle and beatrice just wipes your tears — ‘i think she wanted to keep bees. i don’t even know if that was possible; we had a little yard. but everything grew.’

‘that sounds wonderful.’

‘it was, even though i hated eating my vegetables.’

beatrice laughs softly, admonishing in a way that’s harmless, fond. ‘you’ve grown so much since then.’

‘hey, i’ll have you know just today i ate, like, seven bites of a salad.’

‘very impressive.’

‘can i — not right now, because i think i’ll just cry too much, but — can i tell you more about her? i wish you could’ve met her.’ i wish i could remember her more; i can’t forget.

‘i would love that. and, if she was anything like you, i’m sure she would’ve lit up an entire room. it would’ve been an honor.’

‘bea, i really don’t want to cry again,’ you whine.

‘you should know,’ she tells you, a little firm, so there’s no argument. ‘she would be so proud of you. i know it; who wouldn’t be?’

‘that’s —‘ you bury your face in her neck, just for a moment, soft and warm and safe. 

‘would you like to plant a garden?’

‘in my tiny ass apartment?’

‘no,’ she says, and you can’t see her but you can practically feel her rolling her eyes. ‘here. i have the whole back yard and, frankly, no real interest in a lawn.’

‘i —‘ you back up so you can look at her, and her eyes are clear. ‘really?’

‘of course. i’m actually quite interested in self-sustaining agriculture, and the pacific northwest has great growing conditions for so much wonderful flora and fauna.’

‘wow. okay, but — it’s your house.’

she pauses. ‘ava.’

‘i just — you’re sure?’

‘i would really enjoy it, if you’d like. also, my friend marco, from the climbing gym, runs the community garden in their neighborhood and has been pestering me to meet you.’

‘you talk about me?’

‘of course.’

‘well, if marco will do all the heavy lifting, and preferably both of you not have shirts on, i’m so in.’

‘it’s february.’

you shrug. ‘you’re tough.’

beatrice laughs, and you sink into it, delight in it. you could light up the whole world, ava, she told you after two glasses of wine and half an edible the other night, entirely serious, crammed onto the small couch in your small apartment, your life expanding far beyond, past any walls you knew. 

‘next weekend, when we’re both off,’ she says, ‘we can go to the nursery nearby and get started.’

‘you’re —‘ the love of my life sits right on the tip of your tongue, but you kiss her instead. ‘thank you.’

‘thank you for telling me about your garden, and your mother.’

all you can do is nod, and then hold her after she turns over and falls asleep.

[onegianthotmess]

Remember this poll?

Well, I’ve decided to put an end to my dilemma and just combine both ideas! Basically, Odysseus!Amelia has both Riddle and Silver as spouses because I’m indecisive and have realized my favorite canon x canon ship from TWST is SilRid and I want them to cuddle and kiss and be wholesome together.

To explain this, I have three things to clarify:

How Ithaca’s monarchy in my TWST EPIC: The Musical AU works and how it’ll help the AU stay in line with the original story

How relationships/marriages work between political figures and how relationships in general work in my AU

Just what roles all three characters play in order for them meeting/falling in love/getting married to work

First, how Ithaca’s monarchy in my AU works.

To be put simply, the “King” isn’t a gendered title nor is it given to the firstborn son. The title is passed on to the firstborn child of the previous rulers, no matter the sex and they’re given the title of “King” no matter their gender. This is primarily because Ithaca’s system views a “King” as the primary leader and the one with the most power, and their spouse(s) is the “Queen” no matter their gender.

If the King is absent, rule falls to the Queen(s) of the nation until their children ascend to the throne (when the Queen deems fit) or until the King returns and is able to fulfill their duties for Ithaca. And if the King dies, they can declare their Queen as the next King through their will or final words, provided that they have no children or their child/children are too young to rule. Or, if a King is unable to rule due to mental stability declining or sickness, they can declare their Queen or firstborn child as the new King and relinquish their throne, falling into a position of a personal advisor for the new King if they’re mentally stable enough for it or just living their life in the palace if they’re unable to be an advisor or, in severe cases, are given a different residence with staff to help them if their mental condition makes them a danger in the palace.

It’s true that males are still favored by a majority of the world, and even groups of people in Ithaca think that Amelia isn’t a proper King due to being a woman, despite her mother being King before she died from postpartum complications. And Amelia is actually one of, like, seven female Kings in all of Greece, so she takes pride in her crown.

Now, how relationships/marriages between political figures work and how relationships work in general.

Romantic relationships in politics of this AU are, as in all universes, incredibly complicated. From the gender of the partner to the nature of the relationship, every detail is very crucial and very important to how the relationship will affect the public, especially amongst royalty.

For political figures, marriages are usually moves to better their standing and the condition of the people under them. For royals, they’re mainly alliances and preventions of war. Same sex marriages aren’t too big of a deal, so long as the alliance is secured between the two kingdoms, no one cares all that much about it. And occasionally, even polyamorous marriages occur between multiple kingdoms being ravaged by war between one another.

Due to this, Silver and even Riddle weren’t upset about same sex relationships. As Princes who weren’t widely sought after and who weren’t going to be ruling Sparta in the future, they were raised to be highly educated nobles who would likely be married off to secure alliances with other kingdoms.

Among the common populous, polygamy and same sex relationships aren’t too out of place, especially in kingdoms governed by one in those kinds of relationships. There’s obviously going to be some homophobia and preaching that loving more than one person is sinful, but those relationships are mostly widely accepted across Greece. Why else would suitors who were all guys be harassing Silver and Riddle for twenty fucking years?

Finally, the roles these characters will be playing in order for their relationship/marriage to work within this AU and for it to adhere to the original storyline.

My plan was to have Sparta have two royal families of sorts. For years, there had been a quiet but huge debate over which family would rule—Silver’s or Riddle’s—due to both having significant ties to the political structure of Sparta. Eventually, shortly before they were born, a treaty was signed stating that both families would co-rule Sparta together so the conflict would end and the focus could be put back on the people. This makes it so that both Riddle and Silver are essentially playing Penelope’s role without them being related to one another and their relationship being incest. (I don’t play with that gross shit)

As mentioned before, Silver and Riddle were raised to be highly educated nobles who would be married off to secure alliances. Now, despite their families both co-ruling Sparta together, they didn’t really know each other during their childhood. Both of them had very different areas of expertise, Silver being more physically inclined and Riddle being academically inclined, resulting in them not really properly meeting one another until they were teenagers and began to take an interest in horseback riding. This resulted in them striking up friendship and very slowly developing a crush on each other, but Silver thought that it would get in the way of his duty and that Riddle would reject him and Riddle thought it was pointless since he was raised to basically be a political bargaining chip. So, neither of them acted on their feelings and just remained friends with so much romantic tension, you could practically see it radiating off of the both of them.

Anyways, the prelude to the main story goes that Silver’s cousin (Henrik’s daughter and only child) and Morel had grown to become the most sought after Princesses in all of Greece and suitors from all over came to try and win one, or both, of their hands in marriage. Amelia, only crowned King of Ithaca three years prior, comes as a suitor for the Princesses but she’s more interested in diplomacy and making new connections for Ithaca. Amelia spots Silver and Riddle standing off to the side as Silver’s cousin and Morel stand front and center with their respective parents (Henrik and Itacebeth died of a mysterious illness a year prior, so Finnian and Silver’s cousin’s mother are there) trying to figure out how to organize such a large scale event and Amelia falls hard and fast, instantaneously hitting the hard rock bottom of the worst in simping territory. Girl is down SO bad just from a glance at two pretty boys-

After begging Lilia to help her win over these two Princes (despite him being a virgin and the God of War and Wisdom), Amelia has her first proper meeting with Riddle and Silver by the olive tree before she starts schmoozing with Kings and Queens so she can marry both Riddle and Silver. After a lot of conflict with suitors, Amelia suggests a vow of protection to both the Princesses and their respective husbands made by all of the suitors so as to minimize possible conflict. Finnian and the Queen are like “wow, why didn’t we think of that? how can we repay you, young King?” and Amelia subtly very obviously says that allowing her to marry the Princes would be more than enough payment.

Though, after their wedding and having kids, Morel is abducted by Vargas (a Prince of Troy) and Amelia has to go off to fight in the Trojan War since she was technically a suitor of the Princesses and also had to make the vow of protection. Though Vargas was killed early in the war (he’s quickly reincarnated in the roll of Antinous under the name Ashton) and Morel was quickly returned to Sparta where her husband, Leona, was waiting, the war went on for some years.

Meanwhile, Silver and Riddle are raising the children and end up taking turns in weaving the shroud when suitors begin pressuring them to marry one of them so one of them could be King, despite a lot of them being the same age as, or younger than, their children. Which is fucking creepy.

Thank you for reading my explanation on why I’m making this choice and how it makes sense to me in my head. I really didn’t want to decide, so I just decided to not choose and just have BOTH!!!

I’m living the dream here, people-

[passengerprincipessa]

i didn’t send an ask after chapter 3 because i think that with each chapter i need more time to recover. and now chapter 4 absolutely anihilated me. when i got the notification my hands started shaking with fear AND excitement. you fic manifests itself in physical symptoms in my body, amelia. just so you know the power you have.

what undid me the most was lando because after chapter 3 all i did was wonder what’s going on inside his head. but then in one of your asks you said that lando cannot lie for his life and everything clicked. now everything hurts more. post-austria 2027……. i just want you to care…. the final scene…. ma’am i’m already on the floor, pls.

you’re amazing in the way you create this oscar. so obsessed, so confined, so much in denial. the moments where he’s hit with a reality that’s different to his? i feel them. i feel for him too, obviously. abu dhabi 2026, the most hellish scenario - he wins the race but still loses the championship. i think i would just throw myself into the marina and never be seen again. he’s still stronger than me.

this fic is better, more emotional and hurts more than i could’ve imagined. the expectations were high but holy shit you didn’t have to exceed them by this much - and we still have a chapter to go 😭 i cannot thank you and congratulate you enough for creating such powerful images of landoscar. 🧡🥹

chapter 5 is going to be so healing, i promise 🥺 i'm so glad the fic is so affecting!! i feel like people have had such divergent reactions to oscar in this fic and it's like. is he living in a nightmare of his own creation? yes. is he making choices that make sense in that nightmare world he created? also yes (credit to @leafmeal0ne fo putting it like this). and i think it's just. lando can't see what's going on in oscar's head and oscar can't put any of it into words and then they're just at an impasse that eventually results in... singapore. where they've built up these versions of each other in their head and then it all comes crumbling down (spoilers below)

like lando is, to me, very much not behaving badly here, but he doesn't really understand why oscar's so desperate to win. for him, he has two championships. and truly, like, he doesn't understand why things aren't simple for oscar the way they are for him. it doesn't help that oscar can't figure out how to explain any of that/doesn't see the point. and then with oscar, he has such a complex about how lando sees him (the second driver, thanking oscar for losing, etc.) that he truly doesn't feel like lando's made any effort to see his perspective or understand why nothing's simple for him. anyway, sorry for the ramble, but i don't think either of them are, like, "evil" they're more just operating from what they believe the truth to be

[acuar-io]

If y’all have baby girl names or unisex names with cute nicknames pls let me know!! Send me an ask or reply below this!!

I would love to make a list and do a poll!!! WE ARE NAMING THIS CHILD TOGETHER SKSKKSSK

These are the names I came up with, with help from my siblings and cousin: *the nickname would be Mimi* Amelia did win between us 5 but I want to see what y’all pick 👀 the winner of this round would vs the other name suggestions I really like!

[posiepops]

and im back on tumblr for my once per annum activity...

my contribution isss... a collection of people who waited:

Number one, Miss Amelia Pond :She waited the shortest time of the people on my list... Well, before I added people who technically waited even less time but shush.

Number two, Mr Rory Williams : He waited 2000 years give or take ... but then the universe was rebooted, so did it ever really happen ???

Number three, Rose Tyler... I bet she waited on that sodding beach for hours before Jackie managed to drag her home... But our Rose didn't wait for as long as some of the other people on this list cause she was proactive/ripped another hole in the universe for what she wanted (marry me pls rose)

Number four, Mrs Angry Amelia Pond: she waited for the better half of her lifetime, only to be intentionally left behind, I mean, that's gotta sting... BUT NOT FOR LONG because then she stopped existing, and that version of events was erased, so ... did it ever really happen???

Number five and final on our list is Merlin. 'Nuff said. (Legend says hes still going, my poor sad gays, someone help him).

Unrelated, but I did read a crossover fic once where Rory and Merlin crossed paths and became tea buddies whilst waiting. I would go and find the link, but I think it's on wattpad... and I'm never (going to admit to) going back there... never...

anyways bye, see ya next year, peeps xx