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kathlare · 2 days ago

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Hii, I have a suggestion for you for the next part of the 2025 series!! So basically how about Lando and Amelie have a housewarming party in Monaco at their new apartment and they’re so adorable and in love and cute and wine drunk and it ends in smut!! Please that would be so cute

Loved the idea!! It was way too cute not to write — here’s the chapter all finished and up now 🫶 they’re wine drunk, flirty, very in love… and yes, it ends just how you hoped 😌🍷 I’ll leave the link below, hope you enjoy it!! Let me know what you think 🤍

homecoming

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando and Amelie share quiet, intimate moments in their shared home in Monaco as they prepare to host a special gathering.

Wordcount: 6.9 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

July 21st, 2025 - Monte Carlo, Monaco

The lights of Monaco twinkled like little fireflies beyond the windows as the cab wound up the hills toward the apartment. The streets were quiet, kissed by the warmth of the summer night, the kind of night that felt like silk on skin—soft, slow, and golden. Lando leaned back in the seat, one arm lazily draped over Amelie's shoulders, his other hand resting on the carrier on his lap, where Benny purred like a small, satisfied motor.

Amelie let out a sigh, leaning her head against his chest as they neared home. She smelled like sunscreen and sea salt and a trace of the perfume she always wore, the one that lingered on his hoodie for days after she'd leave.

—Home — she mumbled sleepily, eyes fluttering shut for a second.

—Finally — Lando replied, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. —Think Benny missed it more than us. Look at him. He's literally smiling.—

Björn, on the other hand, had spent the entire drive glaring at Lando from his own carrier like he was planning a coup the second they stepped through the door.

The elevator ride up was quiet, save for Benny meowing dramatically like he'd crossed an ocean (he technically had), and Amelie giggling as she tried to soothe him. Her hand slipped into Lando’s, warm and familiar. It made his stomach flip every time. Still. After all this time.

As the elevator doors opened and the scent of their place hit them—linen, a bit of sea breeze from the balcony left cracked open, a faint whiff of eucalyptus from one of Amelie’s diffusers—they both paused.

—God, I missed this — she said, stepping in slowly like she had to convince herself it was real.

—Mhm— Lando smiled, setting the bags down. —It smells like you.—

—It is me. I live here— she teased.

—Still. Smells like you. And also like Benny peed in the corner last time we left. But mostly you.—

Amelie rolled her eyes, laughing as she bent down to unzip Benny’s carrier. The second the flap opened, the fluffy silver cat practically leapt into her arms with a dramatic meow of relief, nuzzling into her neck like he hadn’t seen her in decades.

—Hi, mi bebé— she cooed, rocking him slightly, Benny’s tail curling up behind her like a question mark. —Did you survive the trauma of vacation?—

Björn, not to be outdone in dramatics, bounded out of his carrier, hissed at Lando for no apparent reason, and immediately launched himself onto the back of the couch, knocking over a stack of magazines in the process.

—He’s plotting my murder— Lando muttered, watching him warily. —I can feel it in my soul.—

—He’s just misunderstood,— Amelie said, pressing a kiss to Benny’s head before gently setting him down. —Like all men with commitment issues.—

—Rude.—

She smirked, tugging her suitcase toward the hallway, Benny now trotting proudly at her heels like a little fluffy knight. Lando followed with the rest of the luggage, glancing around the apartment with a deep, satisfying breath.

It was cozy—an open space lit with soft lamps and the dim gold spill from the city outside. Their living room still had the throw blanket they’d left crumpled on the couch before Cabo. A half-done puzzle on the coffee table. Her plants all thriving from the automatic watering system he still bragged about installing himself.

It felt lived in. Loved. The kind of place you missed before you even left.

Lando dropped the bags in their room and came back to find Amelie already in the kitchen, barefoot, hair tied in a messy bun, wearing a hoodie he hadn’t seen in months. His hoodie, he realized. The Miami GP one. His first win.

Something tight pulled in his chest. Fuck, he loved her.

—You cooking?— he asked, stepping behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

—We haven’t had a proper meal in two days. I need something that’s not airplane food or beach snacks, Lan,— she said, leaning back into him as she stirred a pan of olive oil and garlic. —Also, I need real pasta. Not “Lando thinks this is enough cheese” pasta.—

He buried his face in her neck. —Okay, but my pasta has character.—

—Your pasta gives me trauma.—

—Harsh.—

—Hi, mi bebé— she cooed, rocking him slightly, Benny’s tail curling up behind her like a question mark. —Did you survive the trauma of vacation?—

—He’s plotting my murder— Lando muttered, watching him warily. —I can feel it in my soul.—

—He’s just misunderstood,— Amelie said, pressing a kiss to Benny’s head before gently setting him down. —Like all men with commitment issues.—

—Rude.—

It felt lived in. Loved. The kind of place you missed before you even left.

Something tight pulled in his chest. Fuck, he loved her.

—You cooking?— he asked, stepping behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

He buried his face in her neck. —Okay, but my pasta has character.—

—Your pasta gives me trauma.—

—Harsh.—

Still, he helped. Poured wine. Took over chopping basil while she grated Parmesan with terrifying aggression. They moved around each other easily, like a dance they’d rehearsed a thousand times. Benny meowed from under the kitchen island, trying to guilt them into giving him a piece of cheese. Björn sulked on the windowsill, glaring at the moon.

Dinner was simple—pasta aglio e olio, grilled zucchini with lemon, a baguette they defrosted and stuck in the oven. Nothing fancy. But it felt perfect. Familiar. Like them.

They carried everything onto the balcony, where the warm Monaco breeze greeted them like an old friend. The city shimmered below, quiet and endless. They lit one of the candles Amelie kept in a little ceramic holder shaped like a sun, and the soft amber glow flickered over their plates.

—To being home,— Lando said, raising his glass.

—To wine that didn’t cost twenty euros a glass— she added, clinking hers against his.

They ate slowly, talking about everything and nothing. Benny settled in at Amelie’s feet, and Lando eventually got up to get the second bottle of wine after she made a face like this night deserves more. When he came back, she was curled in her chair, chin propped on her hand, eyes soft and sleepy from comfort more than exhaustion.

—You ever think about how weird this is? — she asked, swirling her wine glass, watching the pink liquid catch the light. —Like… this is our life now. Our place. Our cats. Our...— she paused, her eyes flicking up to his — …us.—

Lando smiled, then leaned back, his chair creaking slightly. —I think about it all the fucking time.—

She reached out and traced her finger along the rim of his glass. —You happy, Lan?—

He didn’t even hesitate. —I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.—

She smiled, a little crooked, a little tired. —Me too. It’s just… weird, isn’t it? How it turned out. After everything.—

He nodded, the weight of shared history sitting between them like a ghost that no longer haunted. —Yeah. But also, kinda perfect.—

Amelie’s foot nudged his under the table. —Don’t get sappy on me, Norris.—

—I will literally write you a poem right now. Do not tempt me.—

She laughed, head thrown back, hair catching the candlelight like a halo. And Lando just looked at her, chest tight with a kind of warmth that made everything slow down.

She was barefoot and drinking wine and laughing on their balcony at midnight, and somehow she still made him feel like that twenty-year-old idiot with a crush who couldn’t believe she even knew his name.

And now she was his. Fully. Finally.

—You know...— she said after a beat —...when I was younger, I used to dream about a place like this. Not like… Monaco, specifically. Just somewhere where I felt safe. Loved. Where people didn’t look at me like I was broken.—

Lando sat forward a little. —You’re not broken, Ames.—

She looked at him. Really looked. Then nodded, slow and certain.

—I know. Not anymore.—

They sat there until the second bottle was empty, and the city below started to doze off, windows going dark one by one.

Eventually, Benny crawled onto Amelie’s lap and fell asleep purring, Björn started chewing on the candle holder, and Lando stood up and offered her his hand.

—Come on, mi amor. Let’s go to bed before Björn eats fire.—

She took it, wine-soft and sleepy, and followed him inside.

Home.

Finally.

-------------

liked by mcclarenmama, carlando2020, and others

daymanupdates: Amelie was spotted in Monaco today with a lot of suitcases 👀 sources say Lando was also there

View all 48,991 comments

sunsetfia: not her flying from cabo straight into monaco wife duties like it’s casual 😭 → helmetkissy: @sunsetfia SHE PACKED HIS HOODIES I JUST KNOW IT 😭😭

lanmeliecore: she's not moving in. she’s coming home 🥹 → pietraskitchen: @lanmeliecore crying throwing up etc

mcclarenmama: 6+ suitcases is girl math for "i live here now" → wifeynorris: @mcclarenmama and one of them was 100% full of bikinis

bittermclaren: can she like not follow him everywhere??? → paddockprincess99: @bittermclaren respectfully, cry more → lanmeliesoldier: @bittermclaren u would too if he looked at you like that lmao

wagsurreal: y’all ever think maybe she’s just traveling?? not everything is lanmelie

f1gossipgirl: lando helping her carry the pink suitcase i know it → pitlaneprincess: @f1gossipgirl and the tote bag. and the iced oat latte. → chaoticwags: @pitlaneprincess he’s her luggage boy and he loves it

wifeydayman: the only girl who could move countries and it feels like SHE’S the one letting HIM in → maxiebestie: @wifeydayman she brought the vibes. the bed. the book. the wine glasses. the serotonin → ameliewastaken: @wifeydayman & the ✨surfboard✨ bc cabo traditions never die

norisimp: she better post a monaco dump or i’m calling the police → lanfan44: @norisimp if i don’t get one blurry pic of his hand on her thigh i’m RIOTING

lanmelienation: y’all she moved in. he’s never escaping now → landoveralls: @lanmelienation and he’s smiling about it 😭

hatercentral01: i’m sorry why are we pretending she’s not just clout chasing 😐 → pitrowangel: @hatercentral01 be serious. she literally doesn’t need him. she’s the main character

f1maldicion: watch lando start p2 and finish p1 next race just bc she’s in the same timezone again → charlesbaldspot: @f1maldicion the monaco magic is different when ur girl is brushing her teeth in your bathroom

lanmelie4life: imagine cuddling in a villa in cabo one day and then cohabiting in monaco the next… this is cinema

norrisnation: is this the “moved in” soft launch or are we getting a proper photo dump later → ameliecore: @norrisnation you know she’s gonna hit us with “home” and 8 blurry pics at golden hour → p1wifey: @ameliecore my body is READY

carlando2020: remember when lando couldn’t even look at her without blushing… and now she’s in his HOUSE → nando4everrr: @carlando2020 full romcom arc i’m sobbing → charleslechair: @carlando2020 from twitch streams to toothbrushes 😭

gridgoss: so we all agree this is not “visiting” energy right?? → sunshineinmonaco: @gridgoss respectfully she’s got drawer space

-------------

Sunlight filtered through the linen curtains in soft stripes, painting golden patterns on the hardwood floors and tangled bedsheets. A breeze from the cracked-open balcony doors stirred the hem of the sheer drapes and carried in the scent of salt, lavender, and warm stone. The city below was just waking up — Monaco stretching its arms with the sound of gulls and the low hum of distant boats on the water.

Amelie stirred first.

She blinked slowly, adjusting to the soft light before rolling over to face him. Lando was still asleep, shirtless, his curls a chaotic halo on his pillow, one arm flung over his head like he had no care in the world. His breathing was steady. Peaceful.

She stared at him for a long second.

Then the nerves hit her like a wave.

Today was the party. Their housewarming. Her housewarming, technically. The first home she’d truly made hers in years. Their friends were coming. People from both their worlds — drivers, musicians, old uni friends, people who had watched them go from chaos to comfort.

And suddenly, she wasn’t sure she was ready for it.

The champagne was already chilling in the fridge. The playlist had been obsessively curated the week before. The catering was set. But something about it all still felt… heavy. Like the weight of being seen. Being celebrated. The idea of everyone she loved in one place, looking at her, at them — it overwhelmed her.

She slipped out of bed quietly.

Benny was curled like a croissant at the foot of the bed, lifting his head just slightly to blink at her before yawning dramatically. She tiptoed out of the room, padded into the kitchen, and pulled a mug from the shelf with trembling hands.

She was halfway through boiling water when she heard footsteps.

Lando appeared in the doorway, eyes still heavy with sleep, hair sticking out in every direction. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, just grey sweatpants low on his hips, and he walked toward her with the kind of casual gravity that made her chest ache.

—Morning,— he mumbled, voice gravel and warmth.

She tried to smile. —Morning.—

He took one look at her face, then stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her from behind, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

—Talk to me,— he said softly. —What’s going on in that scary beautiful brain of yours?—

She let out a long breath, pressing her palms flat against the countertop.

—I’m just… nervous. I don’t know why. I want this. I planned every second of this. But it still feels like... I don’t know. Too much? Like I’m supposed to be someone I’m not today.—

Lando turned her gently so she was facing him.

He cupped her face in both hands, thumbs brushing along her cheeks.

—You don’t have to be anyone but yourself,— he said, eyes searching hers like he was trying to pull every worry straight out of her. —You planned this because it matters to you. You care about your people. You care about your space. That’s not too much, Amelie. That’s beautiful.—

She swallowed hard, the heat behind her eyes threatening to spill over.

—But what if it’s not enough? What if I’m not enough?— she whispered.

Lando’s jaw ticked, just slightly. Then he leaned in and kissed her forehead, slow and grounding.

—You are more than enough. You made this place magic. You made it ours. Everyone coming today? They’re proud of you. I’m proud of you. And not just because you picked the best champagne.—

She let out a choked laugh against his chest, burying her face there.

He wrapped her up tighter. —You’ve built something beautiful. Not just a home, but a whole life. And I get to be in it. That’s the part I still can’t believe.—

They stood there in the quiet hum of the morning, her forehead resting against his collarbone, his fingers running slow circles down her spine. Outside, the city grew louder, more alive, but inside it still felt like just them.

Eventually, Lando pulled back slightly, nudging her chin up with a crooked finger.

—Come on,— he said, smiling softly. —Let’s sit on the balcony. You need tea, and I need to watch you breathe for a minute before this place fills up with too many people and Oscar starts telling everyone how I snore.—

—You do snore,— she mumbled, letting him lead her by the hand.

—Not the point.—

They padded barefoot through the sunlit apartment, Benny trotting behind like a sleepy bodyguard. The balcony was already warm, kissed by the morning sun, with a view that stretched out across the glittering sea and the still-waking city.

Lando sat first, tugging Amelie gently into his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. She curled into him instinctively, head on his shoulder, mug warming her hands.

For a few long minutes, they didn’t say anything. Just breathed.

Then he kissed her temple and murmured against her hair,

—You make Monaco feel like home.—

Amelie didn’t answer right away. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she leaned into his chest like her bones recognized the shape of him. When she did speak, it was barely above a whisper.

—You always felt like home.—

Lando’s arms tightened around her.

—Shit,— he whispered. —You’re gonna kill me with that one.—

She smiled softly, turning just enough to press a kiss to his jaw.

—You’re stuck with me, Norris.—

—Good. I’m not going anywhere.—

The moment stretched—safe and golden and slow. And when the breeze rustled her curls and the sun hit her face just right, Lando realized, not for the first time, that this—this exact second—was the dream.

Not the cars, not the podiums, not the interviews.

Her.

The rest of the morning unfolded with that same quiet softness.

They stayed on the balcony until their tea went cold, until Benny curled into the shadow beneath Amelie’s chair and started purring like a little engine, and until the sun crept high enough to paint everything in warm honey.

Eventually, Amelie pulled herself up with a sigh, stretching her arms above her head and letting the hem of Lando’s shirt ride up just a little.

—Alright,— she said. —Time to make the magic happen.—

Lando raised an eyebrow. —You mean you create magic and I get in the way and stress about whether we have enough ice.—

—Exactly,— she smirked.

Back inside, the apartment began to buzz with the energy of preparation. She put on a playlist—something vibey, something that felt like clinking glasses and late July—and stood in front of the mirror, trying to decide if she wanted to curl her hair or leave it soft and wild.

Lando watched her from the bed, sprawled across the duvet, phone in hand but attention fully on her. She caught him in the mirror once, smiling like an idiot.

—What?— she asked, fluffing her hair.

—Nothing. You’re just ridiculously hot when you’re bossy.—

—You haven’t even seen bossy yet, Norris. Wait ‘til the florals get here and someone messes up the table layout.—

He laughed, rolling onto his back. —Terrifying. Can’t wait.—

She smirked, turning up the music and twisting a strand of hair around her curling wand. For a while, the apartment was filled with the sound of whirring, the occasional curse as Amelie nearly burned her finger, and Lando singing off-key in the other room as he organized bottles of sparkling water like it was a championship.

By noon, the place looked like it belonged on the cover of a lifestyle magazine.

The table was set with pale linens and gold cutlery, the balcony had been transformed into a chic little lounge area, and the entryway smelled like fresh peonies and citrus. Benny wore a bowtie. Björn had been bribed with chicken to stay away from the decorations.

Amelie stood in the doorway of the kitchen, barefoot, a glass of iced tea in one hand, the other adjusting the collar of Lando’s shirt that still hung off her like a dress. She looked around at all of it—the color-coordinated napkins, the handwritten name tags, the soft instrumental track playing through the speakers—and felt something settle in her chest.

Not pride.

Peace.

—It’s beautiful,— Lando said, walking up behind her. He brushed her hair off her shoulder and kissed the exposed skin there. —You did it.—

She leaned back into him, resting her head against his. —We did it.—

He smiled. —Mostly you. I just moved the soda cans four times and got judged by your cat.—

—A team effort.—

She turned to face him then, pressing a slow kiss to his lips. A thank you. A grounding.

And when the buzzer rang for the first guest, she didn’t flinch.

She grabbed Lando’s hand instead.

—Let’s do this.—

The day would unfold in laughter, clinking glasses, stories shared between old friends and new ones, hugs that lingered too long, and a view of the Monaco skyline that made everyone pause mid-sentence. But in this exact moment—sunlight in her hair, Lando’s hand in hers, music floating through their home—Amelie felt it deep in her chest.

She was home.

And this was just the beginning.

-------------

liked by lanmelieupdates, minnieobsessed, and others

f1gossipgrid: Looks like Mr. Norris played host in Monaco tonight 👀🍸 Lanmelie living their domestic dream? We think yes.

View all 58,912 comments

gfsupremacy: be fr they’re living together i’m shaking → minnieobsessed: @gfsupremacy did u not see the suitcases?? it’s canon now → lanmelieupdates: @gfsupremacy soft launch of domestic lanmelie era 😭😭

f1hotmess: not me analyzing her nail polish to see how recent that story was → charlesbby: @f1hotmess detective behavior i respect it → lanmeliecentral: @f1hotmess timeline confirms: they’re nesting

elysiabestiee: ELYSIA POSTED THEM TOGETHER SHE’S SUCH A REAL ONE → lanmelieserve: @elysiabestiee the wags are wagginggg

gridgirlhour: monaco needs to thank amelie personally for the peace she brought to that man → stellasapproval: @gridgirlhour they’re literally monaco’s it couple now

wagsaremylife: me when i find out she moved in with him: 😭😭😭😭😭 → gfcoreclub: @wagsaremylife it’s giving wife behavior → checosbff: @wagsaremylife now we wait for the ring

leclovergirl: bro they’re literally domestic now??? WHO let them be this cute

lanmeliesource: not them soft launching that they live together with IG stories like we’re not watching with binoculars → monacogf: @lanmeliesource she’s literally been spotted with 3 suitcases and a tote bag. SHE’S MOVED IN.

sunnydaylan: i just KNOW she’s the one who made him buy a proper wine opener → chaoticamelie: @sunnydaylan and matching glasses. this is her house now.

paddocktea: they went from secret sneaky link to domestic monaco co-parents to the cats in 3 business days

minniesthings: someone said Lando moved in with HER actually and they might be right → pietrashusband: @minniesthings Monaco is hers now. He’s just living in it.

bnnybabe: i bet they argue about closet space and then go cuddle

hatersofjoy: they’re cute and all but y’all act like they invented love → wagwatchers: @hatersofjoy babe just say you miss your ex and go

lanmelieupdates: this better mean more sunset dumps, beach walks and lando in linen shirts → girlieswhogossip: @lanmelieupdates and amelie stealing every hoodie he owns. we win.

monacorats: lando throwing a party in his apartment with her friends… they’re nesting → lanlies: @monacorats someone get them a label maker and a shared calendar already 😭

manchildcore: why is lando glowing like that. blink twice if u got domesticated → chaoticwags: @manchildcore he blinked once and smiled… he’s doomed 💀 → carlossainzfan99: @chaoticwags man went from manchild to malewife in 3 months

lanmelieupdates: if they’re not living together just say that. but if they are. also just say that. → landofthegrid: @lanmelieupdates i’d physically collapse if we got a story of her cooking in his hoodie → stilgonnacry: @landofthegrid you mean their hoodie now

lanmeliepropaganda: someone said “they’re nesting” and i haven’t known peace since → booktokwag: @lanmeliepropaganda next slide better be a cat tower and a joint lease

-------------

The garden buzzed softly with the golden energy of late afternoon turning into evening. The soft glow of string lights wove between olive trees and trailing wisteria, casting a dreamy shimmer across the long, rustic tables draped in white linen. Candle flames flickered in little glass jars. Bouquets of rosemary and white peonies dotted the tables, nestled between bowls of handmade pasta, platters of grilled vegetables, and bottles of wine chilled in silver buckets.

It was everything Amelie had pictured—an Italian dinner party tucked into the heart of Monaco. Simple. Warm. Loud in all the right ways.

Lando sat beside her at the center of the longest table, both of them squished between their families—his mum, Cisca, to his right, and her brother Elias to her left. Their knees brushed beneath the table. His hand stole from her plate whenever he thought she wasn’t looking. She always was.

At one point, she caught him scooping a forkful of her lemon risotto and muttered, —You have your own,— without even turning her head.

—I know,— Lando whispered, chewing. —But yours tastes better.—

Cisca laughed, shaking her head. —He used to do that to me, too. Don’t take it personally.—

—Too late,— Amelie deadpanned, sipping her wine.

Lando grinned and leaned in close. —You love me anyway.—

—Debatable.—

But she was smiling, her cheeks already warm from laughter and pinot grigio. The entire evening felt like a dream—just soft clinks of cutlery, bursts of shared stories, kids running between tables barefoot, and the undeniable glow of two families who’d long since blurred into one.

And through it all—through the hum of music, the smell of basil and smoke, the distant crashing of waves—Amelie felt tethered.

It wasn’t two families anymore.

It was just one.

She leaned into Lando’s shoulder, watching everyone through soft lashes. —They like each other.—

He glanced down at her, one arm draped casually behind her chair. —They’re kind of obsessed with each other. I think your mom invited my dad on a yacht trip.—

Amelie snorted. —That’s concerning.—

—Also, your brother just arm-wrestled Oscar over who gets the last cannoli. Jack won. I’m a little scared of him now.—

—I’ve been telling you.—

A beat passed. Then Lando’s hand found hers again. He didn’t say anything. Just squeezed. As if to say, Look what we built.

And when she turned to look at him—his curls messy from the breeze, his smile lazy and full of wine, his eyes lit like he couldn’t quite believe this was real—Amelie’s chest tightened in that beautiful, impossible way it always did with him.

He leaned down, his lips brushing her temple as he whispered, —You did good, bébé.—

—We did,— she whispered back.

Dinner turned into dessert. Then dessert turned into dancing under the stars. The night stretched, sweet and slow, all the way to midnight.

And for a moment—just a small, sacred moment—Lando pulled her to the side, behind the olive trees strung with lights. Away from the laughter, the music, the clinking glasses.

Just them.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at her.

She stood still beneath the soft twinkle of the fairy lights, barefoot in the grass, the hem of her dress brushing her knees, curls loose around her face. There was music in the background—someone had queued a Fleetwood Mac song—and it floated toward them like a memory.

Lando’s hands found her waist, gentle, grounding. He looked at her like he was still trying to figure out how this was his life. How she was his.

—You okay?— she asked quietly, voice softer than the breeze.

He nodded. But didn’t let go.

—Yeah. I just needed a second. Just us.—

Amelie tilted her head, eyes catching the way the light danced across his face. —We’ve been surrounded all day. I almost forgot what your voice sounds like when you’re not yelling across the table.—

He grinned. —Well, in that case…— He dipped his head, pressing a kiss just under her jaw. —Hi.—

She melted into a laugh, curling her arms around his neck. —Hi.—

They swayed there, no music needed. Just the hush of the night and the distant sound of someone—probably Charles—trying to convince Timothée to race go-karts tomorrow morning.

Lando let out a slow breath, forehead against hers.

—I’ve never had this before,— he murmured. —Not just the party. Not just the house. This. You. The way everything feels like it actually matters now.—

Amelie’s fingers threaded through the curls at the nape of his neck. —You’ve always mattered, Lando.—

He pulled back enough to look at her. Really look. The kind of gaze that felt like it saw all of her—past, future, all the quiet pieces in between.

—I know. But now it feels like I get to live it. Not just dream it.—

The world felt still for a moment. Like even the wind held its breath.

Then Amelie leaned in, her lips brushing his slowly, like a promise.

—This is just the beginning, you know.—

—Good,— he said, his voice barely a whisper. —Because I don’t want it to end. Ever.—

Back at the tables, someone popped another bottle of champagne. Laughter echoed across the garden. A voice shouted, "Amelie! Lando! Come dance!"

They pulled apart reluctantly.

—Shall we?— she asked, offering her hand.

Lando took it with a grin that cracked his whole face open. —Lead the way, mi amor.—

And together, hand in hand, barefoot and full of everything that made life feel like poetry, they returned to the party they built with love.

The stars blinked above them, quiet witnesses to something rare and real. And beneath them, laughter and light spilled into the night like it would never end.

And maybe, for them, it never really would.

-------------

liked by lando, flo_norris_showjumping, and others

ameliedayman: 🏠

View all 200,133 comments

elysiadayman: mom era unlocked. who taught you to be this pretty?? → ameliedayman: @elysiadayman u did 🥲💌 → minniemills: @elysiadayman this whole post smells like SPF and domestic bliss i’m gonna cry

flo_norris_showjumping: excuse me??? why wasn’t i invited to jump on the sofa. i’m calling the authorities → ameliedayman: @flo_norris_showjumping you were busy doing flo things 😔 → ciscanorris1: @flo_norris_showjumping let her be in love in peace

pietrapilao: the monaco girl aesthetic is crawling its way under my skin and it’s YOUR fault → ameliedayman: @pietrapilao get here and we’ll make it worse 😇

lanmeliefilms: THE KISS THE KISS THE KISSSSS → lanmeliepropaganda: @lanmeliefilms romeo & juliet who??? it’s lando & his monaco muse → norrispasta: @lanmeliefilms they kissed so hard i forgot how to read

chaoticwags: why is she the only person who’s ever made monaco look fun → booktokwag: @chaoticwags the power of falling in love with a man who pays taxes there

lando: photo 12 is crazy. delete it before i lose my mind → ameliedayman: @lando u literally kissed me → lando: @ameliedayman yeah and i’ll do it again

stilgonnacry: the white set, the yacht, the pasta… i’m spiraling in poverty → f1fangirlie: @stillgonnacry you missed benny and the kiss and the aperol spritz → l4nmeliedefense: @stillgonnacry god’s strongest soldiers are in this comment section

thatf1teapage: ok but no one gonna talk about how she basically lives there now?? → lanmelieupdates: @thatf1teapage she posted more monaco balconies than lando this month → okamelia: @thatf1teapage just say we live together and go

monacosocialclimbers: she’s cute but let’s not act like being Lando’s gf isn’t her whole personality now

stelladayman: at least wear shoes next time before jumping on a man’s sofa → ameliedayman: @stelladayman what do u want from me woman

lanmeliearchive: no bc this is a house tour disguised as a photo dump → booktokwag: @lanmeliearchive and i studied every pixel

n4mours: lanmelie having pasta, kissing, sunbathing AND calling over stray cats. what genre is this → stilgonnacry: @n4mours romance-core domestic heaven i fear

livelaughlanmelie: just say you live with him now. it’s okay. we support u → amelieangel: @livelaughlanmelie one 🏠 emoji and she broke the internet

alex_albon: so no invite to the yacht huh → ameliedayman: @alex_albon ur not hot enough to be yachtcore → alex_albon: @ameliedayman lies. i wear linen now

yachtgirlamelie: she’s not living in Monaco she IS Monaco → gardenoflanmelie: @yachtgirlamelie she’s the view. she’s the main event.

-------------

The night had quieted, that unmistakable post-party hush settling into the bones of the house. The last bottle of wine had been emptied. The fairy lights were still glowing in the garden, flickering like fireflies strung across olive branches, though the tables sat mostly cleared now—crumpled napkins, half-melted candles, and the lingering echo of laughter that had spilled into the early hours.

Everyone had gone.

Well—almost everyone.

Back at the apartment, the space still held the warmth of the evening, of barefoot kids dancing in the grass and too many toasts to count. Amelie had slipped off her shoes the moment they walked in. Now, her curls were half up in a messy clip, her sleeves rolled past her elbows as she stood over the sink, up to her wrists in bubbles.

—You didn’t have to help, you know,— she said, flicking a bit of foam at Lando’s face.

He didn’t flinch, just smirked as he wiped it off with the dishtowel in his hands. —You’re cute when you’re domestic.—

She shot him a look. —You’re cute when you don’t talk.—

He laughed—really laughed—and for a moment it was just that sound between them, comfortable and easy. He stood beside her, drying each plate she passed over, sliding them back into their cabinets with quiet rhythm. The kitchen smelled like lemon and olive oil, their fingers still pruney from the night.

Behind them, their parents had taken over the living room. Adam and Elias sat on the couch, half a bottle of wine between them, talking about some GP from 2008 like it was yesterday. Cisca and Victoria were curled up in the armchairs, barefoot and cozy, gossiping and giggling like sisters.

None of them rushed to leave.

They didn’t have to.

They’d become one family a long time ago.

Elias looked toward the kitchen, nudging Adam gently. —Look at them,— he murmured. —You’d think they’ve been doing this forever.—

Adam followed his gaze. There stood Amelie, flicking water at Lando with her elbow, laughing too hard to hold the next dish still. Lando bumped her shoulder with his, smiling in that crooked, soft way he always did when he thought no one was looking.

—They’ve figured it out,— Adam said quietly, voice thick with something that might’ve been awe or pride or both. —That thing we all chase. They found it young. And somehow didn’t screw it up.—

Cisca smiled from the armchair, a knowing look in her eyes as she sipped her tea. —They grew up together. But more than that, they grew toward each other. There’s a difference.—

Victoria leaned forward slightly, her elbows on her knees. —I think they always knew. Even when they pretended they didn’t.—

From the kitchen, another burst of laughter echoed—Amelie had tried to stack two wet bowls and one had gone clattering to the floor (miraculously not breaking). Lando had caught it midair, held it above his head like a trophy, and she’d curtsied like he’d just performed a miracle.

Elias chuckled softly, shaking his head. —God, she was unbearable about him when they were just ‘friends’. You remember, Vic?—

—She used to pause Formula One races just to take screenshots of his smile,— Victoria added, half-mocking, half-melting. —Swore she wasn’t in love. Lied to my face every Sunday.—

Cisca laughed, glancing over at her son now—still in slacks and an unbuttoned dress shirt, curls flopping into his eyes as he dried a wineglass. —He was worse. He knew. He just didn’t think he deserved her yet.—

The parents went quiet for a second, caught in the stillness of it. In the realization that maybe, just maybe, their kids were… settled.

Not just in a relationship.

But in love.

Real, deep, this-is-my-life kind of love.

In the kitchen, the last plate was dried. Amelie flicked off the faucet and dried her hands on a towel, sighing with contentment. Lando leaned back against the counter, watching her with the kind of look that softened every angle of his face.

—That’s everything,— she said.

—Wanna start a cleaning business with me?— he teased, tossing the towel into the laundry bin.

—If I get to be the one who bosses you around, maybe.—

Lando grinned and pulled her closer by the waist. —So… always, then?—

She leaned into him, eyes bright. —Always.—

They turned back toward the living room just as their parents began to rise. Cisca was already slipping on her flats, and Victoria had gathered the leftover cake box into her tote bag. Hugs came next—warm, long, familiar. Everyone smelled like lavender and red wine and the faintest trace of garden smoke.

Adam pulled Lando in first, clapping his back. —Proud of you, mate. Really proud.—

Elias kissed the top of Amelie’s head and whispered, —She did good. You both did.—

Then came the last goodbyes, the echo of soft footsteps down the hall, and the click of the front door.

Just them again.

Quiet.

Still warm.

Lando stretched. —I’m gonna take a quick shower. You want anything?—

Amelie shook her head, already walking toward the kitchen again. —I’m gonna open wine. Maybe find a movie or something stupid on Netflix.—

—Rom-com stupid or sci-fi stupid?—

—Dealer’s choice.—

He disappeared into the bedroom with a lazy salute, and she laughed under her breath as she moved toward the counter.

That’s when the knock came.

Three soft raps.

She blinked, startled. Everyone had left. Slowly, she padded back to the door and opened it...

—Dad?—

Elias stood in the hallway, backlit by the soft light of the corridor. His hair was slightly windblown, his shirt wrinkled, and he was holding a plain, medium-sized cardboard box.

—I forgot to give you this,— he said, his voice gentler than before. —We’ve had it for years. You left it behind when… well, when you didn’t want to see it anymore.—

Amelie stared at it. Her heart stuttered.

The box was taped shut, but her name was still scribbled in faded sharpie across the top. She remembered it now—shoved into the back of her childhood closet after one particularly bad night when Lando was dating someone else and she’d told herself she was done pretending they were only friends.

—I kept it,— Elias added, handing it over. —We all did. Your mom said one day you’d want it back.—

Her throat felt tight as she took it from his hands.

Elias leaned forward and kissed her temple, just once. —Goodnight, mi cielo. You did good today.—

She nodded, too overwhelmed to say much else. —Love you.—

—Always.—

And then he was gone.

Amelie closed the door, leaned against it for a moment, then slowly looked down at the box in her arms.

A whole different lifetime.

Photos. Notes. Race tickets. Birthday cards. The hoodie she once claimed “smelled too much like him” to keep wearing.

She set it down on the coffee table and ran her fingers along the top, half-smiling to herself.

-------------

alex_albon replied to your story

alex_albon: ur spine okay bro? lando: worth the scoliosis alex_albon: simp behavior. proud of u

charles_leclerc replied to your story

charles_leclerc: that’s love or gym pain lando: both. she’s packing bricks charles_leclerc: 💀

georgerussell63 replied to your story

georgerussell63: u soft now lando: and u jealous georgerussell63: touché

danielricciardo replied to your story

danielricciardo: carrying the emotional weight too I see lando: shut up I’m in my domestic era danielricciardo: I blinked and you became a husband

maxfewtrell replied to your story

maxfewtrell: is that before or after she yelled at you for leaving a wet towel on the floor lando: during. multitasking king maxfewtrell: proud. terrified. but proud.

carlossainz55 replied to your story

carlossainz55: hermanooo… whipped. lando: and hydrated 💅 carlossainz55: she’s got you in a chokehold and you love it lando: she owns me it’s fine

pierre_gasly replied to your story

pierre_gasly: bro u blinked and became domesticated lando: soft launch? no. full IKEA era. pierre_gasly: she got u building drawers and folding throws 😭

emmachamberlain replied to your story

emmachamberlain: not you acting like a Disney prince lando: can’t help it if she’s my princess 🙄 emmachamberlain: ok romantic. go touch grass lando: I’d rather touch her

hannahmeloche replied to your story

hannahmeloche: you carry her once and suddenly you’re a golden retriever boyfriend lando: I’ve been one. you’re late hannahmeloche: and you’re whipped lando: correct ✅

elysiadayman replied to your story

elysiadayman: did she bribe you to post this lando: nah she threatened me 💅 elysiadayman: sounds about right lando: help me

jadenhossler replied to your story

jadenhossler: and she still hates golf lando: she says I’m the exception jadenhossler: L + ratio + whipped lando: absolutely.

92 notes · View notes

kathlare · 6 days ago

Text

wildest dreams

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: During a dreamy getaway in Los Cabos, Lando and Amelie bask in domestic bliss, cheeky pranks, and the sizzling tension that only deep love—and playful chaos—can create.

Wordcount: 6.8 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

July 16th, 2025 - Comporta, Portugal

The villa was quiet. The only sound came from the ocean brushing against the shore outside, a rhythmic lull that usually sent everyone to sleep early after long days under the sun.

But not Max and Amelie.

They were still sitting outside on the terrace, half-drunk, barefoot, and wrapped in throw blankets stolen from the living room. A half-empty bottle of rosé sat between them, condensation dripping down the glass, and an almost-finished bowl of popcorn was resting on Max’s knee.

The air was warm, humid with salt and breeze. The lantern lights hanging from the pergola above flickered softly, casting a golden glow over Amelie's flushed cheeks and Max’s messy hair.

—I can’t believe Pietra knocked out before me,— Max laughed, swirling his wine glass lazily. —Usually I’m the one passed out by ten.—

Amelie grinned, pulling her knees to her chest. She had one of Lando’s t-shirts on—big and worn and smelling like his cologne—and bikini bottoms, her hair still wet from the night swim they’d all taken hours earlier.

— She was exhausted, Max. You dragged her into playing tequila pong with you and Lando like we’re nineteen.—

—And you didn’t stop me,— he said, accusingly, raising a brow.

—I wanted to watch you lose.—

He rolled his eyes but laughed.

They sat in silence for a few seconds, the peaceful kind, while Amelie toyed with a loose thread on her blanket and Max leaned his head back to look at the stars.

—You ever think about it?— Max said suddenly, eyes still on the sky.

Amelie tilted her head. —Think about what?—

—All of this. The future. Like… what comes next. After the noise and the paddocks and the social media shit. After we’re not hot and interesting anymore.—

She snorted. —Speak for yourself, Fewtrell. I’ll be hot until I’m eighty.—

—Okay, true,— he chuckled. —But you know what I mean.—

Amelie quieted. Her gaze dropped to the rim of her wine glass. The crickets chirped softly in the background, the kind of sound you didn’t notice until everything else was still.

—Yeah,— she finally said. —I think about it all the time.—

Max shifted in his seat, turning a little to face her better. —And? What do you see?—

Amelie chewed on her lip for a second, then shrugged. —I dunno. Something slower, I think. Less eyes. A garden. Maybe two cats... oh wait, I already have that.—

—Who both terrify me, by the way,— Max pointed out.

—They’re harmless.—

—Björn threw a glass off the shelf because I looked at him for too long.—

—He’s dramatic. Fits right in with the rest of us.—

Max laughed again, a warm, easy sound, and took another slow sip of his drink. The kind of buzzed where you’re not drunk, just soft. Honest.

—You ever get tired of it?— he asked after a moment. —All the attention? The noise?—

Amelie was quiet again. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and looked out toward the dark silhouette of the ocean, glittering faintly under the moonlight.

—Sometimes,— she admitted. —I mean… I love what I do. I love performing, and I’m grateful, always. But yeah. I miss normal shit. I miss walking down the street holding someone’s hand without it being a headline. I miss dates. Like… proper, cheesy dates.—

Max blinked. —You and Lando don’t go on dates?—

She gave him a look. —Max, when do we have time? When we’re not working, we’re traveling. And when we do go out, it’s always this whole thing. Security, disguises, a million people whispering around us. I love him, I do. More than anything. But sometimes I wish I could just… go to a fucking movie with him. You know?—

There was a long pause before she added, almost shyly.

—I don’t want a perfect life. Just a little more normal.—

Max watched her closely for a second, softer now. His usual teasing gone. Just a friend looking at someone he’s known through too many seasons.

—Does he know that?—

She opened her mouth, then hesitated. Her throat felt a little tight. The wine wasn’t helping.

—I don’t think so. I mean… it’s not like I’m unhappy. I’m not. He’s everything to me. But maybe I’ve just been scared to say it. Because we worked so hard to get it right this time. I don’t want to seem ungrateful.—

Max’s brows furrowed. —Ames, telling someone what you need doesn’t make you ungrateful. It makes you honest.—

She gave him a small smile. —I know. I just… sometimes it’s easier to pretend everything’s fine than risk shaking the boat, you know? Especially when you’re in love.—

He nodded. They were both quiet again, the sound of waves filling the space between them.

—You really love him, huh?—

Her smile grew, soft and almost sad. —I always have. Even when I didn’t want to.—

Max was about to say something when a quiet voice cut through the terrace.

—It’s two in the morning.—

Both of them turned.

Lando was standing barefoot by the sliding glass door, his hair a mess of curls from sleep, wearing only his boxers and one of Amelie’s silk robes—green with little palm trees embroidered on it. His eyes were heavy with sleep, but his voice was clear.

—And you’re both loud as fuck.—

Amelie’s heart jumped a little, but she tried to mask it with a small grin. Max only raised his hands in mock surrender.

—Sorry, Dad.—

Lando narrowed his eyes. Then looked at Amelie. Something unreadable flickered in his gaze.

She offered him a soft smile. —Sorry, Lan. We got carried away.—

He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked between the two of them for a second longer. Then finally nodded once, rubbing his hand through his hair.

—Come to bed,— he said, voice gentler now.

Amelie stood slowly, barefoot on the warm tile, and reached over to gently squeeze Max’s arm before walking past him. —Night, Maxy.—

—Night, Ames.—

Lando held the door open as she passed, and gave Max a quick, tight nod before following her inside. They didn’t speak again until they were back in the bedroom.

The room was dim, lit only by the glow of a single lamp on the nightstand. Amelie walked straight to the bed and slipped under the covers, tugging Lando’s robe from his shoulders as he crawled in beside her.

He didn’t say anything at first, just settled beside her, arm draped across her waist, his face buried in her neck.

She thought maybe he’d fallen asleep, until...

—You wanna go on more dates with me?— Lando’s voice was low, almost shy, spoken directly against her skin.

Amelie’s breath caught.

She shifted slightly to look at him, his curls tickling her cheek. His eyes were open now, watching her carefully in the faint light.

—You heard that,— she murmured, not quite a question.

He nodded. —Not everything… just enough.—

Her throat went dry. She bit her lip, fingers playing absently with the edge of the blanket between them. She didn’t want to lie. Not to him.

—It’s not that I’m not happy,— she whispered. —I am, Lan. I really am. I just… I miss the little things, sometimes. Like sneaking out to a shitty diner at 1am or going to a fair and getting candy stuck in our hair. I miss not needing disguises, or tinted windows, or having to think about what picture might end up on some account.—

Lando stared at her, eyes soft but a little tired. —You think I don’t miss that too?—

Her lips curved. —I know you do. You used to drag me to McDonald’s at midnight for milkshakes just because you were bored.—

He smiled at that. —I still would if you’d let me.—

—We’d have fifteen photos taken before we got to the drive-thru window.—

—Then we’ll rent the whole fuckin’ place. Fuck it.—

Amelie laughed softly, and Lando shifted closer, hand coming up to brush a few strands of hair from her face.

—I don’t want you to ever feel like you can’t tell me these things, Ames. Ever. You’re not ungrateful. You’re human. And I’m your boyfriend.— He kissed her cheek, lingering there. —I wanna give you all of it. The big shit and the small shit. And if what you need are dumb, normal, stupidly cheesy dates? Then I’ll give you that too.—

She blinked at him, overwhelmed. His voice, his words, the way he always made her feel like she wasn’t asking for too much.

Her chest squeezed. She leaned forward, nose brushing his.

—I love you, Lan.—

—I know you do,— he whispered, kissing her gently. —I love you more.—

She smiled against his lips, curling into him as he tugged the blanket higher over them.

And somewhere in the quiet of the room, with the waves humming outside and the wine still warm in her blood, she whispered.

—Thanks for hearing me.—

Lando tucked his face into her shoulder, holding her a little tighter. —Always, cariño. Always.—

-------------

liked by dayman_daily, unionjackbarbie, and others

ameliedayman: newsflash pal

View all 92,001 comments

maxfewtrell: that’s crazy. not one photo of me. after everything we’ve been through → ameliedayman: @maxfewtrell you were asleep for 3/4 of this dump babes → lando: @maxfewtrell he woke up just for lunch don’t give him too much credit

ciscanorris1: obsessed with the barefoot white dress energy. she’s not a girlfriend she’s a nymph → ameliedayman: @ciscanorris1 i love you come over i have cake

flo_norris_showjumping: i’m stealing the black dress and the wine glass → ameliedayman: @flo_norris_showjumpping respectfully no

charles_leclerc: didn’t get an invite to surf. fake friend. → ameliedayman: @charles_leclerc you can’t even swim without complaining 🙄

lando: still trying to recover from slide 3. pick me up before my next race pls → ameliedayman: @lando no bc u made me take that barefoot

alex_albon: pls share where that arcade is i need a rematch → ameliedayman: @alex_albon i’m not scared. pull up

jadenhossler: she reads ONE book and now she’s better than everyone → ameliedayman: @jadenhossler you don’t even know how to spell “book”

f1sluttycorner: not to be dramatic but this entire photo dump smells like “girlfriend of the paddock” world domination → landoscarfan: @f1sluttycorner Lando is just living in her vibe now and he’s THRIVING

hotgirlinsector3: this white dress gave Lando the audacity to win silverstone idc → mclarenmuse: @hotgirlinsector3 it’s not the shoes, it’s the barefoot girlfriend magic

gridgossipcentral: remember when ppl said she was bad for him?? lmao look at her glowing and him winning → lanmelie4everrr: @gridgossipcentral they healed each other’s inner child and now we’re all reaping the rewards

landozonlyfan: she’s cute or whatever but why is she everywhere lately

trackrat90: manchild poster is kinda fitting since she’s dating one 🤷‍♀️ → gridgirl69: @trackrat90 you sound poor and single

f1gatekeeper: we miss the old Lando

pietrapilao: honestly i deserve a photo credit and a therapy voucher → ameliedayman: @pietrapilao i paid you in wine and trauma

stellaperez: glass of wine = crisis. black dress = violence. noted. → ameliedayman: @stellaperez who told you about the crisis

lanmelieupdates: THE BLACK DRESS??? she’s fighting for her life and we’re just watching → gridheartbeats: @lanmelieupdates she dressed like that and Lando STILL lets her outside. stronger man than me

f1gfcore: white dress barefoot book girly??? SHE’S A VILLAIN IN A ROMANTIC TRAGEDY → mclarenmoments: @f1gfcore and i’m sobbing in the audience

pitlaneprada: she’s surfing, reading, dressing like an angel, playing arcade games and dating lando… some of us are NOT ok

georgerussell63: why are you always in a dress or doing crimes → ameliedayman: @georgerussell63 i multitask

emmachamberlain: who let you cook like this??? → ameliedayman: @emmachamberlain chef certified, michelin delulu

lanmeliecontent: YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO BE THIS SOFT AND HOT AT THE SAME TIME → wagsdeluxe: @lanmeliecontent she’s posting like she doesn’t know we have heart problems

-------------

The next morning bloomed warm and golden, the Cabo sun already climbing high as soft music drifted from the kitchen speakers. The scent of fresh fruit and salt hung in the air, lazy and sweet.

Max and Amelie were laid out on matching lounge chairs by the pool, sunglasses on, limbs stretched, a half-hearted conversation about the latest F1 gossip bubbling between them.

—You know he’s going to wear those horrible flame swim trunks again, right?— Amelie muttered, eyes closed.

Max snorted. —He loves those. Says they’re lucky.—

—They’re a crime.—

Just then, the sliding glass door to the villa creaked open and Lando stepped out, barefoot and squinting in the sun. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt and board shorts, two icy glasses of some fruit thing in hand, condensation already dripping down the sides. His curls were damp from the outdoor shower, and his eyes found Amelie’s instantly.

—Hey, sunshine,— he called, walking toward her. —Made you something cold. It might be 90% pineapple, though.—

Amelie pushed her glasses up and sat forward with a grin. —That’s exactly how I like it.—

Max groaned. —You guys are disgusting.—

Lando handed her the glass, leaned down to kiss the top of her head, then turned back toward the kitchen, only to freeze when he spotted someone else entering the room.

Pietra had come down the stairs in a little sundress, still tousled from sleep, eyes squinting in the light.

She stopped in her tracks, saw Lando mid-simp, and smirked.

—Aww. Look at this domestic little lovebug.—

Lando sighed, tipping his head back. —God, not you too.—

Pietra ignored him and walked past, stealing a piece of pineapple from his glass. —You’re such a simp. Like, full-send, ring-shopping, neck-kiss-level simp.—

He gave her a look, but he was grinning. —Yeah, well. She’s worth it.—

Pietra paused mid-chew. —Okay, fine. That was actually kinda sweet.—

Lando leaned against the counter, twirling his glass. Then, lowering his voice just slightly. —Hey… actually, I wanted to ask you something.—

Pietra raised an eyebrow. —Uh-oh.—

—No, no. It’s a good thing.— He glanced out toward the pool. Amelie had her head tipped back now, sunglasses on, legs stretched across Max’s lap as they argued about whether or not the hotel next door had real flamingos. —I’m trying to plan something for her. Just a little date night. Something normal, just for us. But I need like… a few hours without her around.—

Pietra smirked. —You want me to kidnap her?—

—I was thinking more like… drag her to that fancy beach boutique you were complaining about not visiting yet.—

Her grin widened. —Ah, strategic distraction. You want me to girlboss her away from the premises.—

—Exactly.—

Pietra crossed her arms and nodded approvingly. —Say no more. I’ll get her to try on 27 overpriced dresses and buy coconut oil she’ll never use.—

Lando grinned, relieved. —Thank you. You’re saving romance as we know it.—

Pietra saluted him with her glass. —Go make your stupid little fairy lights date or whatever. I got this.—

Minutes later, she emerged poolside with her own glass and plopped dramatically onto the empty lounger beside Max.

—Okay, ladies, we’re going shopping.—

Max sat up. —We are?—

—No, me and Amelie. You’re staying here to help Mr. Romance rearrange patio furniture or whatever.—

Amelie cracked one eye open. —Shopping? Now?—

—Yes. You promised to help me find that linen set I liked, remember? It’s urgent. Like, fashion emergency urgent.—

Amelie hesitated, looking back at Lando, who just gave her the most innocent, relaxed smile as he sipped his drink.

—Unless you’d rather sweat out here and listen to Max debate flamingo migration patterns?—

—I’m literally reading an article right now,— Max muttered, scrolling his phone.

Amelie laughed and pushed her sunglasses into her hair. —Fine, but I’m not trying anything on unless there’s air-conditioning.—

—Deal,— Pietra said, grabbing her hand and tugging her up.

As the girls disappeared toward the villa, Amelie tossed a curious glance back at Lando. He waved casually, still sipping his drink.

As soon as they were out of sight, Max let out a long sigh and sat up, slapping his hands on his knees.

—Alright, Romeo. Spill. What’s the plan?—

Lando looked over at him, a grin already tugging at the corners of his mouth. —Drive-in movie date. Old school. Vintage speakers on the windows, popcorn buckets, fairy lights, the whole thing.—

Max blinked. —Wait… like a real one?—

—Rented the whole thing,— Lando said, clearly proud of himself. —Private screen, classic movie, her favorite candy… and I got the guy to let me bring her car in, just for the vibe.—

Max stared at him, equal parts impressed and annoyed. —You’re making the rest of us look so bad, mate.—

Lando just shrugged. —She said she missed normal. I figured I’d give her some cheesy, movie-montage kind of night.—

Max stood, stretching his arms overhead. —You got fairy lights?—

—Box in the garage.—

—Cool. I’m on setup duty then?—

—You’re on everything-that-doesn’t-involve-flammable-wires duty.—

—So… everything.—

Lando snorted, handing him the now-empty glass. —Come on, let’s go. We’ve got three hours before Pietra starts pretending she “accidentally” spent half her credit limit.—

—She will do that,— Max muttered, following him inside.

-------------

liked by ameliesbabe, fewtrellfreak, and others

ameliedaymanupdates: Amelie was seen out shopping around Cabo today with Pietra.

View all 29,003 comments

lanmelie4everrr: she’s out shopping meanwhile lando prob trying on her sunglasses back at the villa 😭 → mclovindrivers: @lanmelie4everrr he already picked out a matching outfit don’t worry 💅

daymaniac: imagine being a surfboard in cabo right now. that close to amelie. → f1fangirl420: @daymaniac AND potentially lando in swim trunks. spiritual experience tbh → wagsupreme: @f1fangirl420 don’t bring the trunks into this i’m WEAK 😭

softforlanmelie: no pics of pietra? that woman is literally our aesthetic board → maxiesgf: @softforlanmelie the most powerful duo to touch a beachside boutique

champagnetruths: lando definitely carrying all the bags while she tries on jewelry

ciscasburner: bet lando’s her emotional support boyfriend today → norifairy: @ciscasburner he’s like “yes babe that bikini is stunning” for the 7th time in a row 💀💀

ameliesbabe: honestly if i saw her walking around cabo i’d just sit down and cry → pitlaneprincess: @ameliesbabe same. the hair?? the skin?? the walk?? lethal.

landobehaved: no way she’s slaying cabo like that while i’m here looking like a boiled shrimp → sunburntfan44: @landobehaved lando would still call you cute, he’s that boyfriend

wagswatchdaily: amelie in cabo = lando’s screen time skyrocketing → lanlore: @wagswatchdaily he’s been suspiciously quiet… he’s taking pics isn’t he 😭 → gridgossipgirl: @lanlore that’s the man behind the “get ready with me” angles

callumsburner: callum probably watching these stories like 😐 “appropriate swimwear pls” → teamamelie: @callumsburner meanwhile checo’s somewhere hyping her up 💅

mclovenotes: the way pietra and amelie are the hottest, most underrated duo → fewtrellfreak: @mclovenotes max and lando won the lottery and they KNOW it

glamnelie: she wakes up, eats fruit, soft smiles, shops, drinks wine, reads. she’s living the pinterest life → gridmother: @glamnelie don’t forget: she’s also dating THE Lando Norris. that’s goddess behavior

wagsunited: her being on a casual shopping trip while the rest of us are fighting for our lives on stan twitter 😭 → helmetkisser: @wagsunited she’s living in peace while we’re in the trenches and honestly? good for her

lanmeliecore: if lando shows up with beaded bracelets and a tote bag we’ll know who to thank → sundazef1: @lanmeliecore amelie’s cottagecore gf influence is STRONG and unstoppable

mclarensupremacy: imagine walking into a boutique and seeing her in a white linen set… I’d evaporate

maxywatch: pietra and amelie being seen together again?? we are so back → sunshinepierrez: @maxywatch give us the shopping vlog you cowards

landoismybfirl: lando somewhere in the villa drinking green juice and waiting for her to come back with candles and seashell earrings → chaoswags: @landoismybfirl and she’ll say “look how cute this is” and he’ll go “yeah baby i love it” without even knowing what it is 😭💘

-------------

The sun was already beginning to dip over Cabo, casting soft gold across the coastline as Amelie slumped into the cushioned seat of the black SUV, her head gently thudding against the headrest. The bags from the last five shops sat neatly packed in the trunk—linen dresses, overpriced sunscreen, random shell jewelry Pietra swore she needed.

Her sunglasses were pushed into her hair, strands clinging to her temples from the heat. She was exhausted, mildly sunburnt, and increasingly suspicious.

—Okay,— Amelie muttered, glancing at Pietra standing outside the SUV. —That was the sixth store. And you barely looked at anything in there. Be honest... are you avoiding the villa?—

Pietra froze for a second, then turned, a little too casually. —What? No. Chill. I just… want to look at one more place. That’s all.—

—That’s what you said two stores ago.— Amelie raised a brow. Her tone was light, but she was watching closely now. —You’re stalling.—

Pietra blinked, opening her mouth, then shutting it. Then she forced a smile. —Wow. I see the conspiracy theories are strong today.—

Amelie leaned forward, suspicious. —Did Lando ask you to keep me out of the villa?—

—What? No way,— Pietra said quickly, waving a hand like she was brushing off a ridiculous bug. —I’m just… trying to help you relax, okay? Maybe you don’t want to get back to that whole ‘everyone staring at you’ vibe just yet.—

Amelie narrowed her eyes. —Relax? Pietra, we’ve been walking in and out of stores for hours. I’m tired, and my feet are killing me. I want to go back. You’re the one dragging this out.—

Pietra glanced around like she was looking for an escape route, then shrugged. —Maybe I am. But maybe there’s a reason.—

Amelie’s heart skipped. She bit her lip and put two and two together in a snap—the late-night text from Lando, Pietra’s weird behavior, the never-ending store crawl.

—Wait a second,— Amelie said, voice low but firm. —You’re stalling because Lando found out I want a normal date. And you’re trying to keep me busy until he’s ready?—

Pietra’s eyes flickered away, and her grin got tight. —Maybe. Maybe not. Who’s counting?—

Amelie exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling up like a storm. —Look, I don’t want to fight. I’m tired, and I just want to get out of these damn heels.—

Pietra hesitated, then nodded slowly. —Okay. Maybe we should head back.—

Amelie’s shoulders relaxed a little, relieved but still wary.

She slid into the SUV and clicked her seatbelt.

As the door shut, Pietra’s phone buzzed.

—Wait a sec,— Pietra said, pulling out her phone. —My mom’s calling.—

Amelie groaned, resting her head back with a dramatic sigh. She shot Pietra an exasperated look.

—Seriously?— Amelie muttered, eyes narrowing but saying nothing.

Pietra just smiled, scrolling through her contacts. —Yeah, gotta take it.— She waved off Amelie’s look without a word and stepped out, closing the door behind her.

Amelie rolled her eyes but stayed quiet, the exhaustion making her not want to start anything.

Outside, Pietra pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed quickly.

—Hey, Lando. Yeah, we’re on our way back now.— She glanced at the SUV, then lowered her voice. —She’s getting tired, so I’m wrapping things up early. You can start getting ready.—

Lando’s voice buzzed softly through the phone speaker. —Got it. Can you give me like… 30 more minutes? I want to set everything up properly.—

—No problem.— Pietra smiled, hanging up and slipping the phone back into her pocket.

She took a deep breath, casting a glance at the black SUV before heading toward the driver’s side.

Just before opening the door, she crouched down silently by the front tire—no one watching—and pulled a small pocket knife from her bag.

With a precise flick, she pressed the blade into the rubber and made a small puncture, careful not to make a sound.

The tire hissed quietly, the damage enough to force a delay without making it obvious.

Pietra stood, brushing her hands on her dress and slipping into the car.

Inside, Amelie’s patience was fraying, though she kept her irritation carefully hidden.

Her foot tapped lightly against the floor as the minutes ticked by.

—Everything okay?— Pietra asked smoothly, eyes flicking to Amelie.

Amelie gave a tight smile. —Sure. Just… ready to be done.—

Pietra’s lips curved into a secretive smile, the plan unfolding exactly as she’d hoped.

—I'm ready. Let’s go—

And for now, Amelie had no idea she was about to be stuck just a little longer.

-------------

The villa stood quiet under the deep violet of the Cabo sunset, framed by golden lights that flickered warmly through the palm trees. The black SUV rolled to a slow stop on the cobblestone driveway, the headlights cutting across the wide front entrance. Amelie didn’t even wait for the engine to go off before she unbuckled her seatbelt with a sharp click and threw open the door.

She was tired. Her back ached. Her feet were on fire. And all she could think about was slipping into her pajamas, pouring herself a glass of wine, and crawling under a blanket with Benny. Preferably without Pietra casually steering her into yet another “charming little boutique.”

The back of the SUV slammed shut as Pietra jumped out with a bounce in her step. That alone made Amelie pause, narrowing her eyes as she dug through her purse for the keys.

—We’re finally home,— she muttered, heading up the stone steps.

She reached the door, keys in hand, ready to fling it open when she realized Pietra wasn't following.

—P?— Amelie turned around. —You coming?—

Pietra stood frozen a few feet behind her, grinning like she’d just heard the world’s best joke. One hand rested on her hip, the other clutched the strap of her purse. There was something… smug about her. Suspiciously smug.

—What?— Amelie asked, her brow furrowing. —Why are you looking at me like that?—

Pietra didn’t answer.

Instead, she tilted her head toward the SUV. And just as Amelie’s confusion was about to shift into full annoyance, a familiar voice drifted out from the other side of the vehicle.

—We’re not staying.—

Max’s head popped around the back of the SUV, casual as ever, hands tucked into the pockets of his shorts. He looked freshly showered and far too pleased with himself.

Amelie blinked. —What?—

—We’re heading out for dinner. Somewhere… far. Probably doesn’t even have cell service.— He grinned as he walked over to Pietra and opened her door for her like a damn chauffeur.

Pietra gave Amelie a wink as Max helped her in. —Have fun.—

Amelie took a step forward, hand still gripping her keys. —Wait. What do you mean have fun? Why aren’t you...?—

Max was already halfway back into the SUV. —Don’t worry. You’ll figure it out. Eventually.— He threw her a wink of his own before disappearing inside. The engine hummed back to life, and with one final smirk from the window, they rolled down the drive and into the night.

Amelie stood frozen for a moment, her heart thudding fast in her chest. She turned back toward the villa, suddenly unsure of what to expect. Her fingers fumbled with the keys as she unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Silence.

Everything looked normal.

The kitchen lights were on. A glass sat on the counter. Her tote bag was where she left it. No candles, no flowers, no romantic music. Just the soft hum of the AC and the distant sound of waves beyond the balcony doors.

She dropped her purse on the kitchen stool and kicked off her shoes, her brows still drawn tight in suspicion. —What the hell is going on?— she muttered to herself, walking slowly through the space.

She peeked into the living room. Nothing.

Bedroom? Still untouched.

She sighed, fingers raking through her hair as she made her way toward the balcony. Maybe she was just being paranoid. Maybe everyone had gone insane and she was just tired—

Then she stepped outside.

And saw it.

Down below, on the soft white sand of the private beach, was a handmade setup straight out of a movie.

A small drive-in cinema screen had been strung up between two tall wooden posts, glowing softly under a line of fairy lights. Cozy beanbags and thick blankets were spread out across a large patterned rug. A projector hummed quietly from behind a low table stacked with popcorn buckets and her favorite snacks. The unmistakable opening scene of Grease was already flickering on the screen in black and white.

And standing in the center of it all was Lando.

Hair tousled, barefoot in linen pants and a white t-shirt, a bouquet of yellow tulips in one hand, the other tucked into his pocket.

He looked up the moment he heard the sliding door and smiled.

Amelie froze, her hand clutching the balcony rail.

Her heart cracked open like it always did with him—too fast, too real, too much.

She didn’t even think. She turned and bolted down the spiral stairs, nearly tripping over her own feet as she sprinted across the lawn and down onto the sand.

Lando held the tulips up like a peace offering. —Surprise.—

She reached him, panting slightly, eyes wide.

He opened his arms with a hopeful grin, clearly expecting a hug.

Instead, she punched him—soft but swift—right on the arm.

—Ow, what the hell?!— he laughed, jerking back.

—That’s for keeping me away all day,— she said, voice breathless with disbelief and emotion.

He opened his mouth to defend himself, but before he could get a word out, she threw her arms around him and kissed him.

Hard.

The tulips bent awkwardly between them as Lando made a surprised noise and melted into the kiss, his free arm wrapping tight around her waist.

When she finally pulled back, Amelie rested her forehead against his and whispered, —You idiot.—

He grinned. —Takes one to love one.—

She snorted, brushing a hand down his chest. —Show me everything.—

—Yes ma’am.—

Lando took her hand and guided her toward the little beach cinema setup like it was their own secret world. And maybe it was.

Because for one night, under the soft Cabo stars, they weren’t celebrities, weren’t running from cameras, weren’t hiding from the world.

They were just Amelie and Lando.

Two kids in love.

Watching Grease with sand between their toes and tulips between them.

-------------

liked by daydreamlanmelie, norrisnation, and others

lanmelieupdates: Amelie & Lando both posting sunset pics at the same time? Date night confirmed 🔥🌅✨

View all 39,493 comments

sunsetwags: lando saw the sunset and said “lemme wife her real quick” 😭 → softlanmelie: @sunsetwags he’s 0.2 seconds away from dropping to one knee i’m scared → f1fangirl420: @softlanmelie say psych rn i’m not ready 😭😭

norrisnation: THEY’RE POSTING THE SAME SUNSET LIKE WE WON

amelieangelz: she’s glowing like she just got kissed under the sun don’t TOUCH me → lanlips: @amelieangelz she did. she absolutely did. check his story 😭 → seatbelts4lan: @lanlips you mean OUR story bc that’s OUR couple

maxxybby: can’t believe i used to think they were just friends 💀 → chaoticwags: @maxxybby girl we ALL lied to ourselves for years it’s ok → lanmeliecore: @chaoticwags “just friends” my ass they were soulmates in denial

lanfan88: they really soft launch hard launched then re-launched every week 😭 → amesupremacy: @lanfan88 we’re just living in their romcom

sunsetkneesocks: LANDO’S HAND ON HER WAIST IN THAT PIC HELLO⁉️ → daisyslick: @sunsetkneesocks that man is in love and not hiding it 😭🫠 → ameliesicedcoffee: @sunsetkneesocks the hand placement is CRAZY

wagscentral: not them giving us pinterest material for free

daydreamlanmelie: this is why he’s been driving like a menace lately… he’s too happy → pietrasbf: @daydreamlanmelie happiness buff unlocked

maxielagenda: max seeing these and pretending he doesn’t care 😭 → charles_gf: @maxielagenda he misses the third wheeling era

lanxmelie4life: THEY’RE MAKING ME BELIEVE IN LOVE AGAIN → breakupwithmepls: @lanxmelie4life we are not surviving their wedding i fear

lanxmeliecore: ok but how is this not a romcom promo?? → nails4lan: @lanxmeliecore she’s the manic pixie dream gf and he’s obsessed

shesthechicane: i just KNOW she picked the matching sunset pics 😭 → prayingforlando: @shesthechicane he’s giving “yes babe” energy always

waggednready: she’s literally glowing. like??? lando be serious. → lanstan44: @waggednready man is DEF eating his greens and kissing his gf daily

yalllovedramaa: y’all acting like this is the second coming of christ it’s just a date 💀

helmetnheels: they post ONE photo and f1 twitter combusts 😭 → pitwallproblems: @helmetnheels they control the algorithm i fear

lonelyinlap3: it’s giving too curated tbh

pitlaneprophet: not y’all romanticizing two millionaires on a beach → grillthegridwife: @pitlaneprophet let me romanticize in peace 😭

lanmelie4prison: lando could do better lol sorry not sorry

-------------

The stars stretched endlessly above them, scattered across the ink-black sky like glitter flung by some careless hand. The moon was thin but bright, casting a silver sheen over the sand and the tips of the waves that lapped gently just a few meters away. The only sounds were the hush of the ocean, the occasional crackle of their nearly burned-out bonfire, and the faint buzz of cicadas in the distance.

Lando lay on his back, hands folded behind his head, eyes on the constellations. Amelie was beside him, curled on her side in one of his hoodies, her cheek resting against her arm as she watched him more than the sky.

They had been like that for a while—quiet, warm, full from dinner and still glowing from the movie setup he’d surprised her with. Her fingers had found his during the end credits and hadn’t let go since.

—This is kinda perfect,— she murmured after a while, voice low, like she didn’t want to break the spell.

Lando smiled, still looking up. —Yeah… I know we always joke about being main characters, but this feels obnoxiously cinematic.—

She snorted softly. —Right? There should be a slow indie ballad playing in the background.—

—Probably Phoebe Bridgers or something French,— he added.

A beat passed. Amelie blinked at the stars above, suddenly overwhelmed by how infinite they were. How small they were in comparison.

—Do you wanna play something?— she asked.

Lando turned to look at her. —Like what?—

She pushed up on her elbow and reached behind her, grabbing something from the tote bag she’d brought down earlier. When she turned back, she was holding a small red box with white letters.

WE’RE NOT REALLY STRANGERS

—Oh no,— Lando groaned, already grinning. —You brought the feelings game.—

—Yup.— She opened the box and started shuffling the cards. —Suffer with me.—

—You know I will. Go on, then.—

She picked one at random, reading it under the firelight. Her brows lifted. —Okay, starting strong: What about me feels most familiar to you?—

Lando didn’t even hesitate.

—Everything,— he said. —You… you feel like home. Like I’ve known you before I actually met you. Which sounds creepy, but you know what I mean.—

Amelie blinked slowly, her chest going soft and tight at once.

—Okay, asshole,— she said, laughing through the lump in her throat. —Top that answer, I dare you.—

He smirked and plucked a card for her. —Alright then. What part of your life do you feel most misunderstood in?—

She hesitated.

Her gaze dropped to the sand between them, fingers idly tracing shapes.

—I think… people think because I smile a lot and laugh and post pretty photos, that I’m fine all the time. That I’ve moved on from things that still keep me up at night. But I haven’t.—

She swallowed hard, then looked at him.

—Except with you. You don’t pretend I’m okay just because I look okay. You see all the mess and still… stay.—

Lando’s throat worked as he stared at her.

—I don’t think there’s ever been a second where I wanted to leave,— he said.

She reached for his hand again, squeezing it tightly.

—Your turn,— she whispered.

He pulled a new card, then laughed under his breath.

—Oh god. This one says: What do you think our relationship teaches others?—

Amelie tilted her head. —That’s a good one.—

—I think… it teaches that waiting can be worth it,— he said. —That love doesn’t have to be instant or perfect right away. That sometimes it’s messy and complicated and full of timing issues, but if you want each other, you make it work.—

He looked at her.

—That’s what we did. We made it work.—

She smiled, blinking quickly.

—It also teaches people that “just friends” is a lie.—

—True.— He smirked.

Another card. Another silence. Another laugh. And slowly, as they went deeper, the cards stopped being a game and became confessions.

Lando’s next pull was quiet. He didn’t read it right away. Just stared at it for a second too long.

Amelie noticed. —What’s it say?—

He turned it in his hand, then met her eyes. There was something more serious there now. Something delicate.

—What’s something you’re scared to tell me?—

Her breath caught, but she nodded for him to go on.

Lando sat up slightly, propping himself on an elbow. His voice was low, almost careful.

—I’m scared that someday… you’ll outgrow me.—

Amelie’s brows drew together. —Lando.—

—I don’t mean that in a self-pitying way, I just… I know who you are. How big your world is. You’ve always had this magic, this light. And I’m afraid one day, my life, my job, the travel… it won’t be enough. Or maybe it’ll be too much. That you’ll wake up and realize you need something steadier.—

She sat up now too, cross-legged in the sand, facing him completely.

—You idiot,— she whispered, her eyes wet but fierce. —I have the steady thing. It's you.—

He opened his mouth, but she cut him off, her voice thick with emotion.

—Do you know how many people in my life I’ve had to let go of? How many I’ve loved and lost or pushed away because it was too hard to keep them close? And then you... you stubborn, patient, annoying boy, you stayed. Even when I told you not to.—

Her fingers curled into his.

—You make me feel safe. And I don’t feel safe with anyone.—

Lando let out a shaky breath. His thumb brushed over her knuckles.

—Sometimes I think about the night I first met you, you know? Online, during lockdown, when we were just being idiots playing video games. You made some dumb joke about marshmallows and I laughed so hard I choked on my water.—

She laughed now, soft and watery. —I remember that.—

—And I just knew,— he said. —Even then. I had no clue how or when or what we’d become. But I knew you were gonna matter. That you’d wreck everything I thought I knew about love.—

She leaned forward, forehead resting against his.

—We’re so screwed,— she whispered with a grin.

He laughed, brushing his nose against hers.

—In the best way.—

A breeze rolled in from the sea, ruffling their hair, sending a fresh wave of that salt-heavy air over them. The bonfire was down to embers now, casting a soft amber glow that flickered across their faces. The stars above twinkled brighter than ever.

—Okay,— Amelie whispered after a moment. —Your turn. Pull another one.—

Lando didn’t even look. He just picked one and handed it to her.

She read it slowly. Her voice went a little quieter.

—What do you imagine our life looking like in five years?—

He let out a soft exhale, thoughtful.

—I think… we live near the water. Maybe Europe, maybe Mexico. Or both. Two places. You’d have a studio with huge windows and terrible acoustics because you like the echo. And I’d still be racing, probably, but taking more time off. We'd make space for normal days. Grocery runs. Lazy mornings. Not constantly rushing between flights.—

Amelie nodded, eyes dreamy and far away.

—I think I’d want a garden,— she said. —And cats. More cats. Maybe one dog if it behaves.—

Lando laughed. —Björn would never allow it.—

—He’d try to kill the dog in its sleep, for sure.—

—What else?— Lando asked.

She looked at him, something glowing in her chest.

—Maybe… a kid. One. Just to see what we’d make together.—

That knocked the air out of him.

His face went soft, eyes wide and tender.

—You’d be the best mom.—

Amelie shrugged lightly. —You’d be the softest dad. Spoiling them rotten.—

—Obviously.—

They were quiet again for a moment, watching the stars blink above them.

Then Lando murmured, —You really think we’ll make it five years?—

She turned to him, kissed his shoulder.

—I know we will.—

He didn’t reply right away. Just tugged her close, tucking her against his chest as they lay back down, their limbs tangled and the sand cool beneath them.

—You’re it for me, you know,— he said into her hair. —You always have been.—

Amelie closed her eyes, heart full to the point of aching.

—I know. You’re it for me too.—

And above them, the stars kept shining, endlessly.

131 notes · View notes

kathlare · 6 days ago

Note

Hii! I’m a huge fan of your writing and this universe I literally check your account every day for updates 🥲🩷 in terms of suggestions, I was just wondering if you could write something really cute about lanmelie kind of reflecting on how far they’ve come since 2020 and just make it like really cutesy and fluffy and adorable and in love 🥺🥺

Hii!! Ahh thank you so much 🥺🩷 it means the world that you check in every day, seriously!! I loved your idea — it’s honestly so sweet and perfect for where they are now — and I just wanted to let you know that the chapter will come out today at 6:00 PM PST! It’s full of fluff and Lanmelie love, and I hope it makes you smile. Thank you again for the suggestion and all your support 🤍✨

#authors note

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kathlare · 13 days ago

Text

dandelion

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: During a dreamy getaway in Los Cabos, Lando and Amelie bask in domestic bliss, cheeky pranks, and the sizzling tension that only deep love—and playful chaos—can create.

Wordcount: 6.1 k

Warnings: smut

full masterlist // request over here!

July 11, 2025 - Los Cabos, Mexico

The villa in Cabo was quiet, kissed by the early morning sun that filtered through the palm trees and cast golden streaks across the marble floors. Outside, the ocean hummed in the distance, a steady rhythm beneath the chirping birds and soft rustle of wind. It was paradise—private, peaceful, and entirely theirs for the week.

Amelie padded barefoot into the open kitchen, still in her oversized t-shirt from the night before, hair a mess of loose curls falling around her shoulders. Her skin was still warm from the bed, and the faint scent of Lando's cologne lingered on her sleeves. He had been gone when she woke up, but his side of the bed had still been warm—meaning he hadn’t gone far.

She knew exactly where he was.

Running. Shirtless. With that stupid smug look he always had after clocking in five kilometers before anyone else had opened their eyes.

Rolling her eyes with a fond little smirk, she set the pan on the stove and started on breakfast—huevos a la mexicana, with extra tortillas and some roasted potatoes she found leftover in the fridge. She moved lazily, music low on her phone, swaying as she stirred. When everything was cooking, she reached for her phone and opened TikTok.

The first video that popped up made her snort.

“POV: You don’t say ‘I love you’ back and see your boyfriend’s reaction.”

Amelie watched the video twice, then slowly tilted her head.

—Huh,— she muttered to herself, lips curving mischievously.

Would it work on Lando?

Her Lando who said “I love you” a thousand times a day like he was trying to make up for all the years they didn’t get it right. Her Lando who literally whispered it when she was sleeping. Who left her little notes on post-its and murmured it between bites of her cooking. Her dramatic, sweet, clingy, ridiculously-in-love idiot.

She giggled to herself, already imagining the scene.

Amelie set her phone propped against the napkin holder, camera ready to go just in case. The food finished cooking with a soft sizzle, and she plated it up—two tortillas folded over the eggs, some of the crispy potatoes piled on the side. She sat at the kitchen island, legs dangling off the stool, scrolling aimlessly through Twitter and chewing on a warm tortilla.

The front door creaked open.

She didn’t even have to look.

The telltale sound of footsteps—fast, bouncy, slightly too heavy—came padding in. A second later, Lando’s voice drifted into the kitchen.

—Smells like heaven in here.—

Amelie looked up from her phone, lips twitching.

There he was. Hair wild and sweat-soaked, cheeks flushed pink, shirt clutched in his hand, chest still rising and falling from the run. He was golden, sun-kissed from the trip already, and grinning like he knew he looked too good for this early in the morning.

He padded over to her, leaned down, and pressed a kiss to her temple.

—Morning, baby.—

—You’re disgusting. But, like, in a hot way,— Amelie said, still scrolling.

—Thanks? I think?— he laughed, walking to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. —Did Max and Pietra leave already?—

—They were talking about heading into town around ten,— Amelie said, glancing at the time. —So we’ve got the place to ourselves for the day.—

—Mmm,— he hummed, already scheming. —Pool? Golf? Beach nap?—

—Definitely not golf,— she said firmly.

Lando turned, offended. —You didn’t even let me finish the sentence.—

—I didn’t need to. My answer will always be no.—

—But you look so cute in a visor.—

—Lando,— she warned, narrowing her eyes.

—Just saying!— he grinned, biting into one of her potatoes from her plate like it was his. —Come on, one round. Nine holes. You drive the cart. I’ll bring snacks.—

—We’re literally in Mexico and you want to play a rich white man sport?— she deadpanned.

—You’re literally dating a rich white man,— he countered.

—Unfortunately.—

Lando gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. —That’s so fucked up. I’m sweaty and vulnerable and you choose violence?—

She giggled, stealing her plate back. —We’re going swimming after breakfast, I already decided.—

—You? Deciding? I thought we were a team,— he teased, walking back around to her. His curls were dripping a bit now, sweat clinging to his forehead. He leaned in to kiss her again and whispered, softly, —I love you.—

Amelie blinked.

And didn’t say it back.

Just smiled sweetly and went back to her plate like nothing happened.

Lando froze mid-step. He stared at her.

—...Ames?—

She hummed. —Mhm?—

—Did you hear what I said?—

—About swimming? Yeah, I heard you.—

—No. After that.—

Amelie turned slowly, like she had no idea what he meant.

—What?—

He narrowed his eyes. His mouth opened. Closed. Then opened again.

—You’re joking.—

—What are you talking about, Lan?— she asked innocently, popping a potato in her mouth.

Lando stood there, full-on betrayal in his expression. —I just told you I love you. And you... you didn’t say it back.—

—Oh,— she said, —did you?—

—Amelie.—

She bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

—Don’t “Amelie” me.—

He stormed to the other side of the island like he was going to flip the whole kitchen over.

—You say “I love you” when I’m brushing my teeth, when I’m peeing, when I’m half asleep on flights, and now you’re choosing not to say it back?!—

Amelie dissolved into laughter.

—Oh my god, it’s a TikTok trend! I wanted to see what you’d do!—

—So you emotionally manipulated me for content?!—

—It wasn’t for content! It was for me!—

Lando squinted, lips pursed. —That’s worse.—

—Lan, I’m sorry, baby. Come here,— she cooed, reaching out with a pout.

He took a step back.

—No. I’m hurt. I’m wounded. I’m... betrayed.—

—You’re so fucking dramatic.—

—You made me feel like I was 16 again and texting you “ily” while you left me on read.—

Amelie gasped, —Okay, now that’s low.—

—Justice for 2020 Lando,— he said, pointing accusingly. —I demand emotional reparations.—

—How do you want to be compensated, then, Mr. Norris?— she said through a grin.

Lando folded his arms, looking smug. —You play golf with me today. Nine holes. No complaints.—

Amelie groaned. —I hate you.—

—But you love me.—

—Unfortunately.—

He leaned down, grinning as he kissed her cheek. —Say it properly and I’ll consider forgetting this whole betrayal.—

She rolled her eyes, grabbed his t-shirt from where he’d dropped it and threw it at his face.

—I love you, you whiny little menace.—

Lando lit up, pulling the shirt off his face like he was the sun.

—See? That wasn’t so hard.—

—You’re literally insane.—

He kissed her again, this time properly, lingering for just a beat too long.

—And yet you love me.—

—Yeah, yeah. Now go take a shower before I really don’t say it back next time.—

As he disappeared into the bathroom, still muttering about betrayal and TikTok, Amelie grinned to herself, finishing the last of her breakfast.

God, she really did love him.

Even if she was about to be dragged through nine holes of golf under the Mexican sun.

-------------

georgerussell63 replied to your story

georgerussell63: not you tolerating golf for him ameliedayman: i’m being held hostage georgerussell63: blink twice if you want me to rescue you ameliedayman: i can’t blink i’m wearing fake lashes

charles_leclerc replied to your story

charles_leclerc: golfing?? really?? ameliedayman: do i look like i’m driving this thing??? charles_leclerc: you looked like you got bribed with snacks ameliedayman: …it was an iced matcha

alex_albon replied to your story

alex_albon: i know that’s his “let’s play 18 holes” grip ameliedayman: get OUT 😭😭 alex_albon: say goodbye to your knees girl ameliedayman: IM BLOCKING YOU

maxfewtrell replied to your story

maxfewtrell: that’s his “i got the girl and the birdie” hand ameliedayman: why are boys like this maxfewtrell: testosterone and trauma ameliedayman: fair

danielricciardo replied to your story

danielricciardo: the hand. the THIGH. the menace. ameliedayman: he’s ridiculous danielricciardo: he’s in love ameliedayman: ew danielricciardo: you posted it babe ameliedayman: SHUT UP

elysiadayman replied to your story

elysiadayman: is that HIS HAND 😭😭 ameliedayman: unfortunately yes elysiadayman: girl that’s not golf, that’s foreplay ameliedayman: JAIL

minniemills replied to your story

minniemills: not the ✨ possessive sports boyfriend grip ✨ ameliedayman: i didn’t even notice it til now 😭 minniemills: oh you noticed. your brain just lagged from the serotonin ameliedayman: i hate you so bad

tchalamet replied to your story

tchalamet: she hates golf but not when he’s touching her thigh 😏 ameliedayman: WHY ARE U IN MY BUSINESS TIMOTHÉE tchalamet: bc you posted it ameliedayman: fair i guess

billieeilish replied to your story

billieeilish: bitch you are so down bad ameliedayman: i’m in my domestic lover era leave me alone billieeilish: he better let you DJ the golf cart ameliedayman: i already forced him to play SZA

jadenhossler replied to your story

jadenhossler: that hand placement is SO unserious ameliedayman: ikr he thinks he’s subtle jadenhossler: baby that’s not subtle that’s territorial ameliedayman: someone sedate him pls

lando replied to your story

lando: your legs are distracting me from my swing ameliedayman: cry about it lando: i will. on your shoulder. later. ameliedayman: ugh

sydney_sweeney replied to your story

sydney_sweeney: you hate golf ameliedayman: i do sydney_sweeney: you love him ameliedayman: painfully sydney_sweeney: ugh fine it’s cute

-------------

The golf course in Cabo stretched wide and green under the blazing sun, palm trees swaying lazily in the ocean breeze. It was the kind of view people put on postcards—but all Lando could focus on was the view in front of him, currently lining up her shot with a mischievous glint in her eye.

And fuck.

He regretted everything.

Not the vacation, not the private villa, not waking up to her curled against him this morning.

Just one thing.

Inviting her to play golf.

She was wearing the tiniest white tennis skirt imaginable, paired with a ribbed, sleeveless cropped polo that had a single pink heart embroidered on the chest and a zipper he was sure she intentionally left halfway down. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail, visor perched low over her eyes, and her legs—his legs, thank you—were bare, tanned, and smugly on display every time she bent down to place a ball.

Lando sat on the golf cart, clutching the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

His driver lay forgotten on the seat beside him.

He wasn’t sure if he was about to pass out from heat stroke or horniness.

Amelie took her time with her swing, twisting at the hips with a casual grace that absolutely did not belong on a golf course. Her skirt flounced with the movement, and when she leaned forward to adjust her stance, Lando made the mistake of looking.

His head thunked back against the cart seat.

—I’m a good person. I’m a good person. I don’t deserve this,— he muttered under his breath, staring up at the sky like it might offer him salvation. Or ice water. Or a cold shower.

Anything but that view.

Amelie straightened, glanced over her shoulder, and caught him looking.

Naturally, she smirked.

She didn’t even try to hide it.

With the sun haloing around her like some smug little golf goddess, Amelie twirled the club once and asked sweetly, —You okay back there, champ? You're looking a little flushed.—

Lando groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. —You know exactly what you’re doing.—

Amelie tilted her head, all innocence. —What? Playing golf? Following the rules? Just trying to enjoy this enriching athletic experience with my beloved boyfriend?—

Lando narrowed his eyes at her. —You’re evil.—

She grinned. —But hot.—

—Unbelievably.—

She giggled, then turned back toward the ball, taking her swing. It wasn’t a bad shot. Not amazing, but enough to keep things moving—which was all Lando really cared about right now. The sooner this round was over, the sooner he could get her out of that outfit.

She walked toward the ball with a little extra sway in her hips. Purposefully. Torturously.

Lando leaned forward in the cart, resting his arms on the steering wheel, watching her like he was studying an endangered species. One he’d like to manhandle.

She turned back after her next swing, club perched on her shoulder.

—You gonna play? Or just sit there drooling?—

Lando stood up with a groan and grabbed his driver.

—One hole. One single hole and then we go back to the villa. I'm begging you.—

Amelie bit back a laugh. —Wow. You’re already quitting? Who knew you were such a lightweight.—

He stalked up next to her, towering just enough to be dangerous. —You wore that knowing exactly what you were doing.—

—You asked me to play golf. I dressed accordingly.—

—You dressed like the beginning of every man’s most unhinged fantasy.—

—So you’re saying I look cute.—

—No. I’m saying you look like sin. And I’m dangerously close to dragging you into the golf cart and making the PGA ban me for life.—

Amelie burst out laughing, the sound echoing across the otherwise peaceful fairway. She leaned into him slightly, hands playing with the hem of his shirt.

—We could go back now, you know. I could say I feel faint. Heatstroke. Dehydration. Or maybe I just need... mouth-to-mouth.—

Lando's hands found her hips like they were meant to be there. —Don't tempt me. I’ll carry you off this course like some desperate caveman.—

Amelie reached up, tugging at the collar of his shirt, eyes glinting. —You wouldn’t make it halfway. You’d get distracted halfway to the cart and start making out with me in the grass.—

—Exactly.—

They kissed, briefly—more teasing than anything, a press of lips that lingered a beat too long to be casual.

Lando pulled back with a groan. —You’re gonna be the death of me.—

—At least you’ll die doing what you love,— she quipped, winking.

He sighed dramatically and took his shot, almost blindly—because how the hell was he supposed to concentrate with her standing there like that?

It sliced hard to the right.

—Jesus Christ,— he muttered.

Amelie tried not to laugh.

—That bad, huh?—

—It’s not my fault! You... you're just... you're illegal. That’s what you are.—

She sauntered past him, slipping back into the cart, legs folding way too neatly. —C’mon. Let’s go find your ball before you cry.—

Lando walked slowly, defeated, dragging his club behind him. —I hate golf. This was a terrible idea.—

By the time he made it back to the cart, Amelie was already lounging in the passenger seat like a smug little menace. Her visor was pushed up now, letting her sunglasses rest low on her nose, eyes flicking over him with that “I know I own you” look that made his blood pressure spike.

She held out a cold water bottle, deadpan. —For your health, baby.—

Lando gave her a flat look but took it anyway, gulping half of it down like it would somehow restore his sanity.

It didn’t.

—You’re gonna get us banned from this course,— he muttered.

—For what? Being cute?—

He shook his head and turned the key in the ignition. The cart whirred to life, rolling down the path toward the next hole.

Or it was supposed to.

Amelie didn’t sit down.

Instead, she kneeled on the passenger seat, facing him, one hand braced on the cart frame as the other slid slowly—almost innocently—along the collar of his shirt.

—What are you doing?— he asked, eyes flicking toward her with a warning he had absolutely no conviction behind.

She leaned in, lips brushing his jaw. —Nothing. Just thinking about how you said you wanted to go back to the villa...—

Her mouth trailed down his neck, slow and warm and distracting as hell.

Lando’s hands clenched tighter on the steering wheel. —Amelie... fuck.—

She grinned against his skin, biting softly right below his ear. He swerved.

—You’re gonna get us killed,— he hissed.

—Then pull over.—

And like he ever stood a chance.

Lando veered off the path, steering the cart behind a cluster of thick palm trees where the sun couldn’t quite reach. The golf course was empty today. Private. Quiet. Which was exactly what he needed to get his hands on her.

The second he put the cart in park, he turned to her—and she barely had time to smirk before he grabbed her waist and pulled her down onto his lap.

—You’re evil,— he said against her lips.

—You’re obsessed with me,— she whispered back.

He kissed her.

Hard.

Messy.

Like he hadn’t seen her in weeks, not minutes. His hands slid under her polo, gripping the bare skin of her waist, and she gasped against his mouth. Her fingers tangled in his curls, tugging just enough to make him groan into her.

She shifted in his lap and he gritted his teeth.

—This was supposed to be a respectable game of golf,— he muttered, lips dragging down her neck.

—You knew who you invited,— she breathed, rocking her hips just enough to make him lose it a little more.

He kissed her again, deeper this time. Like he needed it. Like he needed her. His hands slid to the backs of her thighs, lifting her slightly to get her closer—chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat.

They were all tangled limbs and muffled laughs and low, broken moans. Every brush of skin was electric. Every kiss was a promise.

Amelie's lips found his neck again, a soft, teasing trail that sent shivers down his spine. Lando's hands tightened on her waist, pulling her impossibly closer, grinding her against him. He let out a low, guttural sound, his voice rough with need.

—God, Amelie,— he groaned, burying his face in her hair. —I need to feel you. I need to feel all of you.—

Amelie paused her ministrations, a slow smile spreading across her face as she lifted her head. She gracefully shifted off his lap, giving him space, her eyes never leaving his. Lando fumbled with the zipper of his shorts, freeing himself with a relieved sigh. He watched her, his gaze intense, as he gave himself a few slow, deliberate strokes.

—Just the lycra and panties, baby,— he said, his voice a low rumble. —Keep the skirt and that shirt on. It's driving me absolutely insane.—

Her smile widened, a mischievous glint in her eyes. With an exaggerated slowness that nearly sent Lando over the edge, Amelie shimmied out of her tight lycra shorts, then gracefully peeled off her tiny panties. The white tennis skirt and ribbed polo remained, a delectable contrast to her bare skin. She tossed the discarded garments onto the golf cart floor, then, with a playful wiggle, settled back onto his lap.

She aligned herself, her core pressing against his rigid length. Lando sucked in a sharp breath. Amelie’s fingers wrapped around him, guiding him, but instead of pushing down, she just started to rub herself against him, a slow, deliberate friction that had him clenching his jaw. She leaned back slightly, her head tilted, a teasing smile playing on her lips, her eyes locked with his. The unspoken challenge in her gaze was almost too much to bear.

Lando's breath hitched, his eyes darkening as her teasing smile persisted. He could feel the blood thrumming in his veins, a desperate urge building within him. Her deliberate movements, the light friction against him, was exquisite torture.

—Oh, you think this is a game, do you, Amelie?— he growled, his voice low and dangerous. His hand shot out, delivering a sharp slap to one of her bared buttocks. The sound cracked in the quiet air, a stark punctuation to the rising tension. —Let's be clear, love. I'm in charge here.—

Amelie gasped, a surprised little yelp escaping her lips, but a wicked gleam flickered in her eyes as a faint flush bloomed on her cheeks. Before she could utter a word, Lando gripped her hips, a possessive hold, and with one swift, hard thrust, he buried himself deep inside her.

A long, drawn-out moan tore from Amelie’s throat, echoing through the secluded area. Her head fell back against his shoulder, fingers digging into his biceps.

—Fuck, Lando,— she whimpered, her voice raw with pleasure. —Oh, god, yes!—

He pulled back, just barely, then plunged in again, a primal rhythm taking over. —That's right,— he rasped, driving into her with a renewed intensity. —You like that, don't you? My little golf course tease, screaming my name.— He gritted his teeth, his control a thin thread. —You belong to me, Amelie. Every inch of you.—

Lando continued to thrust into Amelie, his rhythm relentless, each powerful stroke driving her further into a frenzy. Her moans, however, were growing louder, bordering on desperate cries, echoing in the secluded spot. He knew, with a surge of possessive alarm, that if she kept going this way, someone on the sprawling golf course would undoubtedly hear them, even from this hidden alcove. But slowing down wasn't an option. Not now. Not when he was so close to the edge.

Without breaking his furious pace, Lando’s free hand shot down to the golf cart floor, snatching up the very panties Amelie had discarded moments earlier. In one fluid motion, he brought them up and, with a firm yet gentle pressure, pushed them into her mouth.

Amelie gasped around the fabric, her eyes wide, but her next moans were deliciously muffled, a low hum of pure pleasure that vibrated against his chest.

—That's better, isn't it, my little screamer?— he rasped, his voice thick with desire, as he continued to pound into her. —Wouldn't want anyone to interrupt our fun, would we?—

He needed more. He needed to feel her skin, uninhibited. His gaze dropped to the small pink heart on her ribbed polo, then to the zipper she'd left halfway down. With a growl, Lando reached up and, still moving within her, pulled the zipper the rest of the way. The soft fabric parted, revealing the smooth, unblemished skin beneath. Just as he suspected, she wasn't wearing a bra.

A primal urge seized him. He bent his head, taking one of her breasts into his mouth, suckling hard, while his hand cupped and squeezed the other. Amelie arched against him, a muffled cry escaping her, her body trembling uncontrollably as she bucked into his every thrust.

—Oh, god, you're so good, Amelie,— he murmured against her skin, between greedy pulls. —So fucking good for me.—

Lando kept up his relentless thrusts, his mouth hot on her breast, expertly alternating between suckling and nipping while his hand kneaded the other. Amelie was a trembling mess beneath him, her muffled moans growing more desperate, her hips bucking instinctively to meet his every plunge. The panties in her mouth barely contained the sounds of her pleasure, and her body was a symphony of shivers and tremors.

—That's right, baby girl,— Lando rasped, pulling back from her breast only to whisper against her ear, his voice dark and possessive. —Let me hear you try to scream for me. You're so wet, so hot for me, aren't you?— He felt her clench around him, a tight, exquisite squeeze that made him groan. —You can't get enough, can you? Just absolutely soaking for my dick.—

Amelie's eyes, wide and glazed with passion, locked onto his. Her free hand, trembling, found his other hand that was braced on the seat beside her. With a desperate strength, she guided it down, past her skirt, past the friction of their bodies, directly to her swollen folds. Her fingers laced with his, pressing his palm firmly against her clitoris, urging him to tease her softest spot while he continued to pound into her.

—Want me to touch you there, too?— he breathed, his voice a low growl, watching her face contort with an agony of pleasure.

Lando’s fingers ghosted over her clitoris, then pressed down, circling gently at first, before increasing the pressure. Amelie’s body stiffened, her head thrashing against his shoulder. A raw, guttural scream tore from her throat, muffled by the panties but still loud enough to make the hair on Lando's arms stand on end. He felt the vibration of it deep within him, a primal echo that only he was privy to.

—Oh, you like that, don't you, princess?— he growled, his voice a low, dark caress. —You love feeling my fingers on your sweet spot while I'm buried deep inside you.—

Everything sped up. Her inner muscles tightened around him, squeezing, pulling him deeper with every frantic thrust. The sensation was maddening, driving Lando to the brink. Her newfound tightness was an exquisite torture, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. He needed to see. He needed to witness the raw, animalistic beauty of their connection.

He stopped touching her with his hand, leaving her begging for more. Instead, he reached down and, with a swift movement, lifted her white tennis skirt high, bunching it at her waist. The sight that greeted him stole his breath. Their bodies, joined in a furious rhythm, were a masterpiece of desire. Her delicate folds were swollen and slick, gripping him with an intensity that sent jolts of electricity through his entire being.

—Look, Amelie,— he commanded, his voice rough with exhilaration, guiding her gaze down to their entwined bodies. —Look at this. Look how good your pussy is taking all of me. You're a greedy little thing, aren't you? Swallowing me whole.—

Her eyes, wide and heavy-lidded, followed his direction. A shiver wracked her body, and he felt her muscles clench around him even tighter. He knew that feeling. He felt the subtle shift in her body, the almost imperceptible tremor that heralded her release.

—That’s it, baby,— he rasped, his voice a low, primal growl. —You’re so close. So fucking close for me.—

And then she shattered. A low, vibrating moan, muffled by the panties, still escaped her, a sound of pure, unadulterated release. Her body seized, bucking hard against him, her inner muscles milking him with an intensity that sent him reeling. He felt the rush of her climax, the exquisite waves of pleasure radiating through him, pushing him over the edge.

He was coming. He knew it.

With a final, desperate groan, Lando pulled out of her, the sudden separation a gasp of air for them both. He held himself rigidly for a moment, then, aiming for the crisp white fabric that still clung to her waist, he began to hand job himself, his eyes locked on hers.

He watched her, a triumphant, primal glint in his gaze, as his own release exploded over her white tennis skirt, a hot, thick stream that marked the material, and her. A gasp of surprise escaped Amelie's lips, muffled by the panties, as the warm evidence of his claim splattered against her.

Still breathing heavily, Lando gently pulled the panties from her mouth, his thumb already coated with his cum. He swirled his finger into the warm, slick mess on the skirt, collecting a generous amount. He then brought his cum-laden thumb to her lips, pressing it gently against them.

—Taste it, Amelie,— he commanded, his voice a low, possessive murmur. —Taste what you do to me.—

Amelie’s eyes widened, a flicker of defiance in their depths, but she parted her lips, letting him slide his thumb across them. She tasted the salty, musky tang of him, a silent acknowledgment of his claim. Lando watched her, a slow, satisfied smirk spreading across his face, before he pulled his hand away.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, a stark contrast to the ferocity of moments before. —Now that's a good girl,— he murmured, his voice laced with affection, though the underlying possessiveness hadn't completely vanished.

He helped her off his lap, his hands lingering on her waist. The silence was broken only by their ragged breathing and the distant chirp of tropical birds. Amelie’s skirt was still hiked up, stained with his essence, and her polo was unzipped, revealing the curve of her breasts. She looked delightfully disheveled.

—Right,— Lando said, a playful glint in his eye as he gestured vaguely at their state. —Perhaps we should, you know, re-enter society. Unless you fancy being banned for public indecency and property damage.— He nodded at the golf cart. —I'm fairly certain the club doesn't approve of us christening their carts.—

Amelie giggled, a soft, breathless sound. She smoothed down her skirt, then reached for the zipper of her polo. —We should definitely go back to the villa,— she said, her voice a little husky. —I think I've had enough 'enriching athletic experience' for one day.—

Lando paused, watching her. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face as he picked up her discarded lycra shorts and panties, handing them to her. —Ah, I see. So this whole elaborate seduction, the tiny skirt, the unzipped polo, the 'heatstroke'… it was all just an excuse to get out of playing golf, wasn't it, my cunning little minx?—

Amelie gave him a wide, innocent-looking smile as she pulled on her shorts. —Whatever do you mean, darling? I was merely enjoying the beautiful Cabo scenery... and your company, of course.—

He chuckled, shaking his head. —Right. Well, sorry to disappoint you, but it's not quite over yet. You still owe me four holes, love. A deal's a deal.— He winked. —Unless, of course, you'd prefer another kind of 'fore' on the fairway?—

-------------

charles_leclerc replied to your story

charles_leclerc: she hates golf lando: yeah but she loves me 🤷‍♂️ charles_leclerc: i hope you know she’s doing that out of love and not interest lando: painfully aware

alex_albon replied to your story

alex_albon: bro you got her on grass??? lando: she said “this better not be over 9 holes” alex_albon: 💀💀💀 she’s a keeper lando: i know ❤️

maxfewtrell replied to your story

maxfewtrell: she WALKED?? on PURPOSE?? lando: i think she’s being held hostage by my smile maxfewtrell: or ur 9 iron lando: blocked.

danielricciardo replied to your story

danielricciardo: this is growth lando: thank you danielricciardo: mainly hers. because I know you didn’t compromise anything lando: i let her drive the cart 😌 danielricciardo: i take it back

oscarpiastri replied to your story

oscarpiastri: you really got her touching turf voluntarily lando: that’s love, mate oscarpiastri: or witchcraft

carlossainz55 replied to your story

carlossainz55: this feels illegal lando: it kinda is carlossainz55: tell her I’m proud but also blink if she’s planning to murder you after this lando: she already said she’s burning my clubs after dinner 😃

yukitsunoda0511 replied to your story

yukitsunoda0511: SHE’S ON A GOLF COURSE??? lando: i’m scared too yukitsunoda0511: she’s in her ✨wife era✨ lando: she called the golf cart “stupid” 3 times before this yukitsunoda0511: that’s my queen

martingarrix replied to your story

martingarrix: damn you got her on the green lando: not happily martingarrix: i give you 5 holes before she snaps a club lando: generous

-------------

The villa’s kitchen glowed with warm overhead lighting, soft and golden against the pale stone countertops. Outside, the ocean whispered in steady waves beneath a fading pink sky, but inside, it was all laughter and sizzling leftovers.

Amelie sat cross-legged on the counter in an oversized "Cabo Beach Club" sweatshirt and linen shorts, grinning as Lando dramatically recounted his failed attempt at opening the bottle of sparkling water without it exploding. His hoodie was two sizes too big and likely stolen from her closet, and his curls were still damp from the shower. He was barefoot, cheeks flushed with that kind of quiet happiness that only came after a good meal, a hot shower, and too much kissing.

She popped a cherry tomato into her mouth and giggled. —You screamed, by the way.—

—I did not scream,— Lando said, mouth full, pointing a fork at her like it was a gavel. —I yelped. Dignified yelping.—

—Baby, you dropped the bottle and hid behind me.—

—It hissed! Like a snake!—

Amelie dissolved into laughter again, holding her stomach as she leaned back against the cabinet. The plate between them was a shared mess of pasta and grilled veggies, half-devoured by now.

Their laughter was so loud they didn’t hear the front door open.

But they did hear the next thing.

—What do you mean you got serenaded?!— Pietra's voice echoed down the hallway, followed by Max’s lower chuckle. —Max, he was playing the guitar and singing and winking!—

—You thanked him!— Max protested through a laugh. —I was three seconds away from fighting that poor man.—

The couple appeared in the doorway, still hand-in-hand, flushed and glowing from the warm Cabo evening. Pietra’s sandals were in her hand, and Max had a suspiciously red lipstick mark on his cheek.

They both paused at the sight of Lando and Amelie.

Max squinted. —Well, well, well.—

—Look at the married couple energy in here,— Pietra teased, eyes dancing as she took in the cozy scene.

Amelie raised her brows, still grinning. —We were hungry! And bored. And someone was too tired to go out to dinner.—

Lando pointed at himself proudly. —I cooked.—

—He ordered takeout and put it in a pan,— Amelie clarified.

Pietra gave him an approving nod. —Still counts. Husband points awarded.—

They all laughed and fell into easy conversation as Max opened the fridge and grabbed water bottles. Pietra climbed onto the barstool beside the island, stretching her legs out as she sighed contentedly.

—Anything fun happen while we were out?— she asked, reaching for one of the remaining tomatoes on the plate.

Amelie and Lando exchanged the briefest of glances.

Too brief.

—Nope,— Lando said.

—Super uneventful,— Amelie added with a suspiciously quick shrug.

Max raised an eyebrow at their synced, suspiciously prompt responses.

—Hmm. Uneventful, huh?— he repeated, twisting the cap off his water and taking a long sip like he was trying not to laugh.

—So boring,— Lando nodded, leaning back against the counter beside Amelie, arms crossed over his chest. —We ate. We fought a snake disguised as a bottle of Perrier. She bullied me. Normal Friday stuff.—

Pietra hummed, not fully convinced but too tired to investigate. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, suppressing a yawn.

—Sounds like a thrilling day of retirement,— she teased, smiling lazily. —Max and I almost died of secondhand embarrassment. A man literally tried to salsa dance with me outside the ice cream shop.—

—He was sixty, Pietra,— Max muttered, feigning deep betrayal. —I was right there.—

—And you were holding a paleta like a toddler. He had confidence.—

They all broke into laughter again. Amelie was still grinning as she reached across the counter to grab the last bite of garlic bread, but her heart was thudding a little too fast. Lando, cool as ever, looked completely unfazed—leaning back, arms folded, even whistling softly through his teeth. Bastard.

The conversation carried on for another few minutes—travel plans, Max’s bad Spanish, a brief argument about the merits of spicy mango—but eventually, Pietra yawned again, longer this time, and winced as she did.

—Okay, I’m crashing,— she said, hopping off the stool and grabbing her sandals. —My feet hurt. The salsa guy had moves.—

—He did not,— Max muttered under his breath.

She leaned over and kissed his cheek, then started toward the hallway. —Goodnight, lovers. Don’t burn the kitchen down.—

Max followed after her but paused in the doorway. One hand on the frame, one brow raised.

—Oh,— he added casually, glancing back over his shoulder. —Before you keep lying to our faces... maybe check your necks.—

Amelie blinked.

Lando turned to her slowly, eyes wide with exaggerated innocence.

She squinted at him. —What?—

And then, without warning, she leapt off the counter and grabbed his chin, twisting his face toward the overhead light.

—Oh. My. God.—

His entire neck was a constellation of deep red marks. A galaxy of hickeys trailing from under his jaw to just above his collarbone.

She slapped a hand over her mouth, trying not to scream-laugh.

Lando flinched. —Ow?! I’m right here!—

—You’re covered! You look like you were mauled!— Amelie hissed through her fingers.

From down the hall, Max’s voice floated back, smug as ever —Uneventful, huh?—

Amelie turned bright red.

Lando, on the other hand, just shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. —Guess I should’ve kept the hoodie on.—

—Or maybe you shouldn’t have let me mark you up like you were mine to begin with,— she muttered, cheeks flushed.

He grinned at her, stepping in close again. —But I am yours.—

She groaned, playfully shoving at his chest.

—Ugh. You’re lucky you’re cute.—

He kissed the tip of her nose, beaming. —You didn’t seem to mind earlier.—

She shot him a glare, then marched off toward the hallway with one final call over her shoulder:

—Next time, you’re the one wearing a scarf!—

Lando leaned on the kitchen counter, grinning to himself.

Honestly?

Worth it.

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kathlare · 13 days ago

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Hi! I love your story but I had a question about transparency with your readers. I read part 1 of the Silverstone chapter and it had a line that said "Chat GPT Plus" I'll very certain you use it for the images of Amelie occasionally, but do you also use it for text? Thanks!

Hi! Thank you so much for your message and for reading the story 💖 Just to clarify — I don’t use AI to write the chapters themselves. Every part of the story is written by me! That said, English isn’t my first language, so I do use AI occasionally to help me translate or clean up certain paragraphs when I’m not sure how to phrase something properly. I also use it for some of the images of Amelie, just to help bring the visual world of the fic to life a little more. But the heart and writing of the story — that’s all me. I really appreciate you asking so kindly, and I hope this clears things up a bit! 🤍

#authors note

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kathlare · 13 days ago

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Amelie doing the tiktok trend of not saying "i love you" back and Lando's reaction to it.

Love the idea! I had so much fun writing this one — the chapter will come out tonight at 6:00 pm PST! Can’t wait for you to see Lando’s reaction 😭💘 Hope you enjoy it, and thank you for the request! Let me know if you have more ideas 🫶

#authors note

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kathlare · 17 days ago

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hiii, can you write a chapter where amelie performs in london hyde park and lando is there too??

I loved your idea! I actually changed the location a bit—Amelie performs at Silverstone instead of Hyde Park. I hope that’s okay! I really wanted her to be right there by Lando’s side every day, supporting him during such an important race for him. I hope you like how it turned out! Let me know if you want more like this. 💕

#authors note

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kathlare · 17 days ago

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Lando x Amelie after Silverstone??

(maybe, her being obviously extremely happy for him, but nearly just as excited for Hulkenberg to get his first podium.)

I loved this idea — it made total sense, especially with how close Checo and Nico have been for so many years, so of course Amelie would be just as excited for him!! 🥹💙

I added it into the Silverstone chapter already — I’ll leave the link down below in case you missed it. Hope you enjoy it, and thank you so much for reading and sending in such a sweet request!! Let me know if you ever want to see more moments like this 🤍✨

#authors note

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kathlare · 17 days ago

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Hi, could you add to the chapter about Silverstone scenes of Amelie seeing Lando getting hurt by the photographers and her getting worried and angry that they hurt him on such an important day for Lando and maybe they're going to celebrate the victory with the team at a party and some woman hits on him and Amelie is possessive of her man?? (sorry for Google's English🇧🇷, I love your story🫶🏻

Ahhh I’m so sorry I just saw this!! 😭 The Silverstone chapter is already up (and in two parts), so I couldn’t add this scene in time — but I loved your idea so much 🥹🫶🏻

If you’re okay with it, I’d love to include something similar in a future Grand Prix chapter — maybe one of the upcoming races where the celebration gets a little messy and Amelie’s protective side comes out 😌 Let me know what you think!

And thank you so much for reading and for your sweet message (your English is perfect, don’t worry!! 🇧🇷💖)

#authors note

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kathlare · 17 days ago

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WE NEED A SILVERSTONE GP CHAPTER PLS ITS GONNA BE SO EMOTIONAL I CAN TELL😭🙏

AHH I KNOW RIGHT 😭😭 Silverstone was so emotional and beautiful — I cried like three different times watching it 🥹💕

The Silverstone GP chapter is already up and it’s in two parts because SO much happened and I didn’t want to skip anything!! There's all the emotions, the chaos, the fluff… and yes, some smut too 😌

Thank you for being excited with me!! Let me know what you think once you read it 🫶🏼💖

#authors note

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kathlare · 17 days ago

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Hii I absolutely adored the last chapter you posted 🥹 I love lanmelie so much and your writing is phenomenal, it always makes me so excited for the next chapter! I hope you watched the British gp, that was such an amazing race and obviously I can’t wait for the British gp chapter 🫶🏻🫶🏻I was wondering if you could include smut and fluff and make it long like the previous chapter. Sorry if this is too much to ask and tyyy 🙏🏼

Hii angel!! 🥹 Thank you SO much — that means the world to me, truly 💗 I'm so happy you're loving Lanmelie and the chapters!! And yes, I did watch the British GP and I was sobbing the entire time 😭 it was such an emotional race.

You’re in luck because the Silverstone chapter is already up in two parts, and I made sure to include both smut and fluff (and yep, they’re long chapters too, just how we like them 😌). I hope it’s everything you were hoping for — thank you for your sweet words and for being part of this journey 🫶🏻

Let me know what you think!! 💕

#authors note

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kathlare · 17 days ago

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Cant wait for your silverstone gp chapter!!💝

Aww thank you so much!! 🥹💖 The Silverstone GP chapter is already up (and it’s in two parts because so much happened!!). I poured my whole heart into this one — it’s emotional, chaotic, soft, steamy... all the things 😌🏁

Hope you love it as much as I loved writing it!! Let me know what you think 💕✨

#authors note

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kathlare · 17 days ago

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Hii could the Part 2 of the Silverstone chapter include smut pretty pleaseee 🩷

Hii love!! Yesss — part 2 of the Silverstone chapter does include smut 😏💗 Hope you enjoy every bit of it!! I had so much fun writing this one and making it extra special after such an emotional day for them 🥹✨

I’ll drop the link below in case you haven’t seen it yet — let me know what you think and thank you SO much for reading!! 🫶🏼💞

#authors note

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kathlare · 17 days ago

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omg omg!! part 1 of the silverstone chapter was the perfect length and so so cute i’m absolutely obsessed they’re so adorbs 🥹 i was wondering if we could please have some smut in part 2 and also a super long chapter like this one!! if you have time for all that of course… sending love xx

Omg hii angel!! I just read this and had to let you know — part 2 is already up and it’s even longer than part 1 😭💗 And yes… your smut wish was granted too 😌🔥

Thank you so so much for the love, I’m so happy you’re enjoying the story and it seriously means everything to me!! Sending you the biggest hug — hope you love part 2 just as much 🫶🏼💕

#authors note

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kathlare · 17 days ago

Text

special

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando and Amelie’s emotionally charged day continues to unfold with deep intimacy, joy, and quiet acts of love as they navigate the aftermath of a once-in-a-lifetime moment.

Wordcount: 13.7 k

Warnings: smut

full masterlist // request over here!

July 6th, 2025 - Northamptonshire, United Kingdom

The morning sun cast a hazy golden hue over the English countryside as Lando’s McLaren-branded car hummed softly down the familiar road toward Silverstone. The sky was a soft mix of pale blue and silver clouds, and even though the day was picture perfect for a race, the tension in the car was unmistakable.

Lando sat behind the wheel, focused, jaw tight, one hand on the steering wheel and the other tapping a nervous rhythm on his thigh. His eyes were fixed ahead, lips pursed in concentration. He looked calm to the outside world, maybe even stoic—but Amelie knew him better than that.

She was curled in the passenger seat, legs tucked under her in a very not road legal way, wearing a midi white dress, and her blonde hair loose falling down his back, lazily chewing on the corner of a flaky pain au chocolat while sipping from a very full matcha latte she’d insisted on getting from the hotel café before they left.

She took a loud, satisfied sip.

—Just... please don’t spill it, Ames.—

—What?— she blinked innocently over the rim of the cup.

—That’s a new interior,— Lando said, cutting her a side-eye. —And it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve dropped shit all over my car.—

Amelie snorted, eyes gleaming with mischief as she held the croissant aloft like it was an award.

—It was one time.—

Lando’s brow arched. —Five times.—

—Okay, first of all, three of those were not my fault. One was Benny’s fault for jumping in the front seat and knocking the iced coffee out of my hand, and one was yours because you braked too hard.—

—That was a red light! I didn’t choose it!— he shot back, glancing at her with that signature blend of disbelief and affection.

She grinned, leaning back against the window and tearing another bite of the pastry. Flakes fluttered onto her lap and she brushed them off with a dramatic sigh.

—You knew the risks when you fell in love with me, Norris.—

Lando cracked a smile despite himself, but it didn’t fully reach his eyes. His fingers tapped a little faster against the steering wheel, and she noticed the way he was blinking more than usual. Focused, yes, but not calm. He was running hot underneath the surface, and the closer they got to Silverstone, the more obvious it became.

Amelie chewed slowly, eyes drifting to his hands. Then, without saying anything, she set the half-eaten croissant on a napkin in her lap, carefully placed her cup in the holder, and reached for him.

Her fingers found his free hand between shifts, lacing through his with easy familiarity.

Lando didn’t say anything, but his fingers tightened around hers instantly.

She stroked her thumb over the back of his hand, slow and rhythmic. —Talk to me, Lan.—

—I'm fine,— he said too quickly.

—Lando.—

A breath. Then, finally, he caved.

—It’s just... it’s Silverstone,— he muttered, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. —My home race. I’ve been on the podium here but I’ve never fucking won. And everyone’s here. My family. Your family. The fans. The pressure. It’s like… I don’t know. Like there’s a string pulled tight inside my chest and if I mess it up, it snaps.—

Amelie’s heart softened. She reached over and rubbed a gentle circle over the top of his hand with her thumb.

—Lan, you don’t have to prove anything. Not to anyone. You’ve already done enough just by being you.—

He looked over at her briefly, lips twitching.

—You mean that in a deep way or a “you’re hot and I like your accent” way?—

She grinned. —Both. But mostly the first. And maybe a little because you look stupid good in fireproofs.—

That made him laugh, a short, warm sound that eased the heaviness in the car for just a second. He shook his head and looked back at the road.

—You’re dangerous, you know that? You always know exactly what to say to calm me the fuck down.—

—It’s because I love you,— she said simply, gaze soft. —And I want you to go out there today and have fun. You love racing. Don't let the noise get in the way of that.—

They drove a little longer in silence, hands still intertwined, and soon the crowd appeared just ahead—fans lined along the barricades with signs and flags and phones in the air, flashes already going off. The Silverstone entrance shimmered with movement, cameras ready to capture the moment their car pulled in.

Lando slowed the car down just before they hit the turn into the circuit, easing to a gentle stop.

Amelie turned to him, surprised. —Why are we stopping?—

He looked over at her, eyes full of something deeper. Something that made her stomach flutter.

—Because I know what you’re doing. Distracting me. Calming me down. Talking shit about croissants so I stop thinking about the race.—

She tilted her head, trying to play it off. —I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just very passionate about flaky pastries.—

He smiled, unbuckled his belt, and leaned over to press a kiss to her mouth. Not rushed. Not desperate. Just soft and grounding and full of love.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers.

—Thank you, sunshine. For always knowing what I need.—

—Always, baby,— she whispered back.

He gave her one more kiss, lighter this time, before putting the car into drive and slowly rolling toward the entrance. Fans started cheering the second they recognized him, the volume rising the closer they got. Photographers’ lenses clicked like mad as the car came into full view.

Lando’s grip never left her hand.

And as he parked and the media swarmed, he looked over at her one last time and said, —Let’s fucking do this, Ames.—

She squeezed his hand.

—Go win your home race, superstar.—

-------------

liked by dayman_daily, unionjackbarbie, and others

daymangallery: AMELIE HAS ENTERED SILVERSTONE 🏁💥 Our girl just arrived at the paddock looking ridiculously stunning, fully serving pop star meets motorsport royalty. British GP weekend just leveled up. Queen behavior only 🇬🇧👑

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lanmeliesupremacy: she really said main character at HIS home race like ok mother → wagwatcher2000: @lanmeliesupremacy she’s not supporting the driver, SHE IS THE DRIVER now

silverstonequeen: imagine slaying this hard and still being the most unbothered girl at the track

gridwivesunite: okay but the way she owns the paddock more than half the drivers → quads4life: @gridwivesunite and she doesn’t even need a helmet

lanmelie4eva: THEY BETTER GIVE US A KISS AFTER THE RACE IDC → pitwallpsychic: @lanmelie4eva it’s the british gp they better kiss on the podium or i’m filing a complaint

f1sluttycorner: not her cropping Lando like a watermark 💀 → lanmeliedefenseunit: @f1sluttycorner SHE SAID ✂️ we know who the main character is

unionjackbarbie: she walked into silverstone like she OWNS the sport → lanfan6969: @unionjackbarbie let’s be fr she kinda does

gridgirlupdates: someone said he was cropped like a watermark and now I can’t unsee it → pitlanechaos: @gridgirlupdates he’s like that little signature on renaissance paintings 💀

raceweekriot: idk what she’s promoting but i’m buying it

mclovinthem: lando being treated like an accessory i fear 😭

chaoticwags: she’s serving wag, driver, and boss energy all at once

dayman_daily: she’s a menace and he’s obsessed it’s poetry → helmetkisser: @dayman_daily like enemies to lovers but it’s just hot girl and golden retriever boyfriend energy

landolvr69: why is my mans just a blurry elbow in this 😭 → ameliecore: @landolvr69 bc she’s the focus and he’s the support character and he LOVES it

-------------

The LN4 House was calm in a way that felt like borrowed time.

It was still early enough in the day that the adrenaline hadn’t fully kicked in yet, but close enough to the race that everything felt slightly suspended—like the world was holding its breath.

Amelie was sitting at the long breakfast bar in the kitchen, half-perched on a stool with a bowl of freshly cut mango, strawberries, and kiwi in front of her. Her hair was up in a messy bun, and she wore one of Lando’s old McLaren hoodies over her dress, sleeves covering her hands as she stabbed at the fruit with a fork.

Elysia sat across from her, barefaced and cross-legged on the counter like a teenager again, while Joe hovered nearby, digging through the cabinets for coffee.

—Okay, but when I saw Toto's face in the paddock yesterday I knew something was up,— Elysia said, mouth full of watermelon. —He had that “I know a secret” smirk.—

—It wasn’t Toto who leaked it though,— Amelie replied, popping a piece of mango into her mouth.

Joe turned, brow arched. —Wait, are we talking gossip gossip? Or like, career-ending scandal gossip?—

Amelie leaned in, lowering her voice even though no one else was around. —Horner’s out. Officially. They’re announcing it after the race, next week.—

Joe blinked. —You’re joking.—

—Swear on Benny’s life.—

Elysia nearly choked on her fruit. —Benny’s life?! Damn, okay, it’s real.—

—It’s been in the works for a while. Max told me yesterday. He cornered me in the paddock like we were in a mafia movie.—

—Wait, Verstappen spoke to you? You two were beefing,— Joe said, now fully invested, holding a coffee mug like it was popcorn.

—We weren’t beefing,— Amelie said through a bite, —we just… weren’t talking. You know how I get when people get weird with me, and Max got weird after Checo left. He didn’t text me for months.—

—Weird like, awkward weird or dramatic weird?— Elysia asked, brushing mascara through her lashes.

Amelie shrugged. —Both. I think he felt guilty. I mean, Checo was family. And Horner was… well.—

She grabbed another grape, then leaned forward with a little grin.

—Let’s just say… I’m not shedding tears over that crusty little dictator finally getting the boot.—

Elysia gasped. —Amelie!—

Joe cackled, coffee forgotten. —Crusty little dictator! Christ, I’m putting that on a shirt.—

Amelie popped the grape in her mouth and smirked. —I mean, where’s the lie? He was always a creep to me. And you know how many times he tried to get me to post Red Bull merch without paying me? Like babe, I’m not a brand intern.—

Elysia shook her head, laughing. —Honestly iconic. So what did Max say exactly?—

—That it’s done. All the paperwork is signed. They’re just waiting for the media cycle to calm down a bit, but the team already knows.—

Joe leaned on the counter, grinning. —So can you go back to hanging at Red Bull again or is that bridge still on fire?—

Amelie shrugged, playful. —Max basically said I have a seat with my name on it. Guess they missed my sparkling personality and excellent commentary during strategy meetings.—

—Mmhmm. They missed your gossip pipeline and the way you bring pastries for the engineers,— Elysia teased.

Amelie pointed at her with a grape. —Don’t mock the pastry diplomacy. It works.—

Before Elysia could respond, the side door creaked open.

All three of them looked up.

Lando walked in.

He wasn’t in race mode yet—not fully. He still wore his Quadrant hoodie and soft joggers, hair damp and pushed back like he hadn’t decided yet if it was worth styling. But his eyes were scanning the room like he was searching for air.

He saw his mum first, chatting with Amelie’s dad in the corner.

Then his eyes flicked to his brother and sisters.

Then to Max and Connor, who were raiding the mini fridge.

But he didn’t stop.

His gaze finally landed on Amelie.

And everything about him changed.

His shoulders dropped. His expression melted into something unmistakable—soft, stupid, glowing. Like someone had switched on the sun inside him.

Amelie’s smile bloomed instantly.

Lando walked straight toward her like the rest of the room didn’t exist.

Joe leaned back, whispering to Elysia, —Jesus. He looks like he just found oxygen.—

Elysia nodded, deadpan. —Or like he was blind for five minutes and can see again.—

Lando didn’t even say hello to the others. He just came right up to Amelie, dipped slightly, and kissed her—quick and sweet and right to the corner of her mouth.

—Hey,— he murmured, voice already lower than usual.

—Hi, superstar,— she said, brushing her thumb along his jaw. —Feeling okay?—

He pulled back a little, sighing. —Sort of. I have to do a dumb mini speech for everyone in the house before heading to the grid. I hate it. I don’t know what to say.—

—You’ll be fine,— she said, gently, —just say thank you and pretend you like everyone here.—

Lando let out a breathless laugh. —That’s a lot of pretending.—

Amelie nudged him. —You like most of them. Like… a solid 60%.—

—Okay, fair.—

He squeezed her hand and turned toward the center of the room, where the rest of the friends, family, and team staff had gathered with plates and coffees.

He cleared his throat. —Um. Hi. Uh… thanks for being here. It’s Silverstone, which you probably already figured out. Unless you got on the wrong bus.—

Some light chuckles rippled through the crowd. Lando rubbed the back of his neck.

—But yeah. It means a lot to have you here. To see everyone’s faces. To feel the support. This is the one I want. The one I’ve wanted since I was a kid. And... if I don’t win, I’ll probably cry. So no pressure. Love you all. Thanks again.—

More laughter. Applause. A whistle from Max Fewtrell.

Lando offered a sheepish smile and shook a few hands, gave a couple quick hugs, but his eyes were already searching for her again.

He spotted her by the counter, exactly where he’d left her, still standing between Elysia and Joe, the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips as she watched him move through the crowd like a boy on a mission.

The second their eyes met, Amelie tilted her head just slightly, like she already knew what he was about to ask.

Lando stepped right up to her, brushing a hand gently down her arm, voice quiet.

—Hey... would you watch the race from the garage today? With the team? I just... I need you close.—

Amelie blinked, heart giving one of those traitorous skips. She saw it now—his nerves had crept back in, hiding just under the surface, in the way his fingers twitched at his side and the way his brows pinched ever so slightly like he was trying not to show too much.

She nodded, no hesitation.

—Of course. Just give me a second to grab my stuff.—

Lando exhaled, visibly relieved, the tension in his shoulders easing like someone had unclenched a fist.

—Thank you.—

He didn’t say I need you, but it was written in every part of him. The way he looked at her. The way he waited.

She turned back toward her stool, quickly grabbing her crossbody bag and sunglasses, brushing a hand through her bun and slipping off the hoodie to reveal her simple white dress underneath.

Joe leaned in, whispering —Go be his lucky charm, Ames,— and Elysia gave her a soft smile that said the same.

Amelie turned back to Lando and he immediately reached for her hand—fingers slotting through hers like it was second nature.

It was second nature.

They stepped out into the paddock together.

The summer air was thick with sound—fans calling out from the barricades, media voices echoing down the lane, the distant growl of engines warming up. But it all blurred around them. Lando kept his grip on her hand tight, like if he let go, something might slip away.

They were almost to the McLaren motorhome when Amelie suddenly stopped.

Lando felt the pull immediately, her body halting mid-stride, and turned with a quiet, confused, —What is it?—

But Amelie didn’t answer. She was staring across the way, eyes narrowed like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

Lando followed her gaze.

And there, in front of the Ferrari motorhome, waving both arms like a lunatic, was Charles Leclerc.

—What the hell is he doing,— Lando muttered.

Charles was now jumping slightly, both arms flailing, clearly yelling her name even though they couldn’t hear him from across the walkway.

Amelie blinked. —Is he okay?—

—Debatable,— Lando said, already sighing. —Do you need to…?—

She turned to him, apologetic. —I think I do. But I promise it’ll be two minutes.—

He looked like he wanted to grumble more but held himself back. Instead, he leaned in and kissed her cheek quickly, fingers brushing her waist. —Just don’t take too long. I want to see you before I get in the car.—

—You will,— she promised, squeezing his hand one more time before letting go.

Lando disappeared inside the McLaren motorhome with a shake of his head, while Amelie made her way toward the wild red blur that was Charles.

—What is wrong with you,— she said the moment she got close enough.

Charles didn’t answer. He just wrapped her in a hug like a child reunited with a long-lost toy and immediately started bouncing.

—You’re friends with Max again! I knew it! I felt it!— he practically shouted, still shaking her by the shoulders like he couldn’t contain himself. —This is the best day ever! The group is BACK!—

—Charles, oh my god, calm down... stop, you’re going to pull something...—

—NO! You don’t understand! Do you know how many months he had to third-wheel me and Alex? I had no buffer! None!—

Amelie burst into laughter, trying to pry herself out of his grip. —You make it sound like we were in a band that broke up.—

—We were a band. And Max was the bassist. You can’t just lose the bassist, Amelie!—

She wheezed, finally managing to step back a little, fixing her dress. —You’re so dramatic.—

Charles paused, then narrowed his eyes at her, something suddenly dawning on him.

—Wait. Wait. Wait. Now Max is gonna be the favorite again, isn’t he?—

Amelie blinked. —What?—

—He’s gonna move right back to Favorite Best Friend status. I had it for, like, half a year while you two were on your Cold War shit, and now it’s gonna be over.—

Amelie raised a brow, deadpan. —I don’t have favorites, Charles.—

He stared at her.

She stared back.

—Okay fine,— she relented with a smile. —You’re all my favorites in different ways.—

Charles gasped. —That is such a PR answer. That’s what you say to Twitter. Not to me.—

—Take it up with my team,— she said, already laughing.

Before Charles could protest further, a familiar voice joined them from behind.

—Are you two still as unhinged as ever?—

They turned to see Max walking toward them with an amused look, arms crossed and expression softer than it had been in months.

—Maxie,— Amelie smiled, walking toward him and pulling him into a hug.

It was tight, unhurried, and for the first time in forever, not awkward.

—Hey,— he mumbled into her shoulder. —I missed this.—

—Me too.—

When they pulled apart, Charles grinned. —See?! It’s happening. The reunion arc. I’m going to cry.—

Max rolled his eyes but didn’t hide the way his mouth twitched up at the corner. —You’re always crying, mate.—

—Only when I’m moved! Or when the playlist hits too hard! Or when I stub my toe!—

Amelie shook her head, linking arms with them both. —I hate how much I missed this.—

Charles beamed. Max just gave a tiny nod, the weight of the last few months clearly lifted now that everything was back to where it belonged.

The three of them stood there for a second—Amelie between the two boys who had known her since her career first took off, before the awards and the tours and the chaos. The three of them, ridiculous and dramatic and whole again.

—Okay,— Amelie said, breaking the moment. —I really have to go now. Lando’s waiting and if I’m not back in the garage in five minutes he’ll think I ran off with you two idiots.—

Charles smirked. —Honestly, I wouldn’t blame you.—

Max just bumped her shoulder. —Go. Tell him I said good luck. And that if he beats me, I’ll be mad but like… only a little.—

She grinned. —I’ll tell him. And I’ll see you both after the race, yeah? Dinner on me.—

Charles gasped. —I’m ordering everything.—

Amelie started walking backwards toward the McLaren motorhome, calling over her shoulder, —I know. That’s why I’m regretting it already.—

And with one last wave, she turned and jogged back toward Lando, the sound of her name already being chanted in the grandstands above.

The day was only just beginning.

But the world already felt right again.

-------------

liked by verstappinout, ferrariflirt, and others

f1girlie:👀 REUNION ALERT?? Amelie Dayman was spotted in the Silverstone paddock earlier today chatting with Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc — and yes, that’s the first time she’s been seen talking to Max in nearly a year despite their previously close friendship 👀

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formula1slays: not max and amelie laughing like last season drama never happened 💀 → lanxamelia: @formula1slays lando better be cool w this bc i know that laugh was a little too giggly → gridgirlbrainrot: @lanxamelia nah bc if looks could kill lando’s 2023 monaco stare would’ve vaporized max rn 😭

charleclercz: charles standing there like “i’m just happy to be here” 💀 → ferrariflirt: @charleclercz he’s the mom friend holding the peace treaties and snacks

lanmelietok: we really went from cold war to co-parenting energy in the paddock 😭

ameliasimpact: girl fixed lando and her friendship with max in one weekend idk she’s powerful → qualiqueen: @ameliasimpact AND sold out silverstone twice. mothering too hard

drsdrama: not y’all forgetting they used to be besties until last year lmfao → gridtea: @drsdrama i didn’t forget i was traumatized

landohoee: lando watching from the garage like 👁👄👁 → mclarensimp420: @landohoee bro refreshing twitter every 4 secs for fan pics like the rest of us 😭😭

f1wifematerial: they were definitely just catching up but i KNOW twitter bout to spiral 😭 → lanmama: @f1wifematerial let them spiral. we over here enjoying the cinema 🎬

wagwatchdog: lando's probably like “okay haha just don’t hug him again thx” → softlaunchszn: @wagwatchdog the lil possessive arm grab coming in 3…2…1…

verstappensburner: HELLO? AMELIE AND MAX IN THE SAME FRAME AGAIN?? → gridtokmami: @verstappensburner we back in our delusional friendship era i fear

curlyameliaa: i just know charles was third wheeling the tension 💀 → monacoprincess: @curlyameliaa he’s just there like “soo… anyone wanna talk about the weather?” 😭

lanxoops: lando better not be checking the gps on her airpods again 💀

mclarengf: i swear these two could’ve ended ww3 if they wanted to → softlanmelie: @mclarengf they kinda just did tbh. paddock peace restored

tyrewhore: y’all mad over a lil convo like lando ain’t gonna post her at dinner in two hours 😭 → silverstonemami: @tyrewhore LITERALLY. he probs took the pic. with flash.

verstappinout: not max smiling like a golden retriever who got his favorite toy back → daymansun: @verstappinout and charles in the back looking like the forgotten child 😭

ameliecore: no bc i missed THIS dynamic. chaos girl summer is so back

gridgossipbabe: lando seeing them laugh like 😐😐😐 → lanfanclub: @gridgossipbabe “haha so funny what are you guys laughing about?” → spicyteamradio: @lanfanclub he’s fighting for his LIFE in the garage rn

amelieupdates: not them casually talking like the great verstappie fallout never happened 💀 → mclarenmuse: @amelieupdates character development or delusion?? i can’t tell

lanlaneliee: i love how this convo has fans shook and she’s just like 🙂✨

fluffynorrisfan: y’all act like she can’t have friends just bc she got a boyfriend 😭 → lanmelienation: @fluffynorrisfan the parasocial olympics are exhausting

-------------

The buzz of the grid had reached its peak.

Engines purred like caged beasts, tire blankets were coming off, photographers swarmed like bees around the front rows, and the roar of the national anthem still echoed faintly above the Silverstone crowd. The energy was electric—every heartbeat, every breath, every blink charged with anticipation.

Lando stood near his McLaren, halfway into his fireproofs. The top of his race suit was still around his waist, sleeves tied down, and his balaclava was tucked loosely into his collar. He was in that strange pocket of time between the anthem and the race start—the calm before the storm.

Amelie watched from the side, standing quietly next to Jon, who held Lando’s water bottle and helmet. Her hands were tucked under her elbows, heart thudding hard in her chest even though she wasn’t the one climbing into a car at 300 kilometers an hour.

Lando walked toward them, zipping his suit halfway up now, his steps confident but tight.

He didn’t say anything to Amelie at first—just fist-bumped Jon, grabbed the water bottle, took a sip, and then, like it was muscle memory, turned toward her.

Their eyes met.

Lando’s shoulders loosened slightly the moment he saw her—like just looking at her let him breathe a little deeper.

He reached out without hesitation, a hand finding her waist, and before she could say anything, he kissed her. Quick. Focused. Like a promise more than anything.

She touched the edge of his suit, fingers brushing the fabric just under his collar. —You’ve got this, Lan. No one deserves this win more than you.—

He didn’t say anything. Just nodded once. Firm. Solid. His eyes searched hers for half a second longer before he leaned in again, pressing one last kiss to the corner of her mouth.

Then he pulled back and walked toward his car.

Amelie’s eyes followed him the whole way.

Jon didn’t look at her when he spoke, eyes trained on Lando as he adjusted the gloves in his hands. —No matter what happens... stay close. If he doesn’t win... if something goes wrong, he’s gonna need someone who can pull him back to earth. And that’s you.—

Amelie felt something twist in her chest.

She didn’t speak right away. Just looked at Lando, now halfway back in his seat, adjusting the belts and talking quietly with his engineer.

Then she nodded.

—Always.—

And she meant it with everything she had.

A few moments later, the FIA staff began moving through the grid, motioning to all the guests and non-team personnel to start making their way off. The time had come. The final countdown to lights out.

Amelie took a slow breath, gave Jon a little squeeze on the arm, and began walking back down the grid toward the pit lane, her white dress fluttering lightly with each step. She passed Carlos and Charles, waving at both of them. She hugged a couple mechanics from Aston Martin. Waved at Yuki, who gave her a peace sign from the front of the Red Bull car.

The noise was thunderous now—commentators, fans, engines revving. Still, through all of it, she heard her name.

—AMELIE!—

She turned.

Nico Hülkenberg stood next to his Sauber, helmet in hand, a lopsided grin on his face. He wasn’t exactly prepped for a podium finish—sitting P19 on the grid—but he looked unbothered as ever.

Amelie smiled warmly and walked over to him.

—Hey, Nico. Good luck out there. I know the race’s gonna be tough, but you’ve got this.—

Nico shrugged, a bit amused. —Thanks, Ames. Not exactly front-runners today, but hey, you never know.—

He glanced around before lowering his voice just enough for her. —By the way, I bet Checo’s pretty happy about the news with Horner, huh?—

Amelie laughed softly, shaking her head. —You don’t have any idea. He texted me in all caps. There were fireworks emojis involved,— she added, her voice teasing.

Nico laughed. —That sounds about right. Man’s probably dancing around his living room with tequila right now.—

—Oh, I guarantee he is. I wouldn't be surprised if he bought a mariachi band just for this.—

Nico smirked, adjusting his gloves. —Tell him I’ll celebrate properly if I finally get that podium.—

Amelie raised her brows dramatically. —Wow, shooting high today, huh?—

—A man can dream,— he said, with a shrug and a wink.

—Well,— she leaned in slightly, voice lowered in mock-conspiracy —if you do somehow pull it off from P19, Checo will probably name his next kid after you.—

Nico cackled. —HülkenPérez. It has a ring to it.—

Amelie giggled, taking a half-step back as one of the engineers signaled Nico to start prepping. She touched his shoulder lightly. —Drive safe out there, okay?—

He gave her a small salute. —Go scream loud in the garage. Maybe it’ll send some magic my way.—

—No promises,— she called over her shoulder as she walked away, —but I’ll scream extra loud for McLaren. You’re on your own, Hülky.—

The grid was thinning now, more guests funneling off into the designated paths. Amelie tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and picked up her pace, the sharp buzz of the broadcast now rising above the engine notes.

As she reached the McLaren garage, a familiar face was already waiting.

One of the engineers handed her the signature orange-and-black team headphones, the kind that connected her directly to the pit wall comms and, most importantly, to Lando’s radio channel.

—They’re linked to Lando’s box and to pit wall, as always,— he said with a wink.

Amelie took them with steady hands, gave a thankful nod, and slipped them gently over her ears. As the soft hiss of comms filled the silence, she exhaled, eyes scanning the garage.

And then she saw her.

Lily.

Standing near the back, hands wrung tight in front of her, lip pulled between her teeth as she stared at the monitors with wide, anxious eyes. She was in a navy McLaren bomber jacket two sizes too big, hair half up, looking small and brave all at once.

Amelie moved toward her instinctively, slipping beside her without a word and gently grabbing her hand.

Lily startled a little but smiled gratefully when she saw who it was.

—This never gets easier, does it?— Lily asked, her voice a little hoarse.

Amelie gave a soft smile, squeezing her hand. —No. Not for one second. But...—

She paused, watching as Lando’s name flashed across the screen in bright orange while the pit wall began feeding tire temps and strategy calls into the comms.

—...but maybe that’s not the point. Maybe it’s not supposed to get easier. Maybe we’re just supposed to keep showing up anyway.—

Lily let out a shaky breath, nodding. —Yeah. Yeah, maybe you’re right.—

The five-minute warning echoed faintly through her headset.

Amelie gently pulled Lily’s hand closer and whispered, —Come on. Let’s pray. Just for them to be safe.—

Lily blinked, surprised, then nodded again, her lips pressing together like she didn’t trust herself to speak.

They turned slightly inward, just the two of them among the rising noise of engineers, mechanics, and the distant chant of the crowd.

Amelie closed her eyes, head dipping low. —For Lando. For Oscar. For everyone out there.—

Lily echoed softly, —Let them be safe. Let them come back in one piece.—

—Let them remember why they love this,— Amelie added. —And let whatever happens, happen with courage.—

When she opened her eyes, Lily was already looking at her.

They smiled at each other—quiet, breathless, terrified.

—No matter what happens this season,— Amelie murmured, —even if they fight, even if they crash into each other and stop talking for three races... we keep them friends. Yeah?—

Lily let out a laugh that was more emotion than sound. —Yeah. Promise.—

The one-minute warning flashed across the board.

Amelie squeezed her hand one last time, then turned her eyes toward the pit exit.

The lights were red.

Engines screamed.

And Amelie stood right there—headphones on, heart in her throat, fingers tightly curled by her side.

Waiting for the moment the lights would go out.

And everything would begin.

-------------

liked by charlesbabie, paddockbabes, and others

f1: LANDO NORRIS WINS HIS HOME GRAND PRIX!

He comes out on top after an all-time classic at Silverstone to win in front of his home fans for the first time! 🧡

View all 68,186 comments

f1sluttycorner: lando heard her scream from the pit wall and gained 3 tenths immediately 😭 → dtsfangirl: @f1sluttycorner true love is a performance enhancer

chaoticwags: he didn’t just win silverstone, he won HER 😭 → norisimp: @chaoticwags podiums and princesses every weekend from now on pls

gridwifezone: idc if he wins 0 more races this year this was for the romance

wagscentral: someone get a mic on amelie NOW she’s probably sobbing backstage

mclarensmut: lando after crossing the line: “did she see that” → ame1ienation: @mclarensmut he was literally looking for her before piastri 💀

no1caresmelie: i miss when she wasn’t everywhere. tired of this wag era 💀 → chaoticwags: @no1caresmelie you’re tired? imagine how bitter your life must be if Amelie Dayman ruins it by… existing 💋 → lan4real: @no1caresmelie don’t worry she’ll be at the afterparty while you’re crying in the comments

paddockbabes: if i was lando i’d be proposing tonight idk → yukisgf: @paddockbabes max fewtrell better be on ring duty rn

charlesbabie: man’s won a race and the baddest girl alive i’m sick → lanlovin: @charlesbabie he’s living the wattpad pipeline

wheelsexlies: LANDO NORRIS YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS → lanmeliebabe: @wheelsexlies he's not a regular driver he's a boyfriend driver 😭

maxsipiastri: bro won bc the whole grid slowed down for him outta pity 🙄 → lanmelieupdates: @maxsipiastri cope harder babe, the podium doesn’t do charity 🧍‍♀️ → meliepopqueen: @maxsipiastri ok and yet he’s got the win, the girl, and the merch sold out sooo... who’s really winning

ameliedaymangf: i’m not saying she’s his good luck charm but like… she is → notoscarpiastri: @ameliedaymangf i need her in that paddock every sunday from now on

ameliecoreupdates: bro wasn’t even out the car and he was already scanning the crowd for her → pitwallpoetry: @ameliecoreupdates me too lando ME TOO

f1memequeen: what’s it like knowing your gf out-cheered 65k people in the stands → gridhoney: @f1memequeen she IS the grandstand

oscaronfilm: oscar hugging him like a proud little brother i’m crying

silverstonebaby: THIS is why i believe in soft men with fast cars → helmetkissers: @silverstonebaby and girlfriends in designer heels

landoverrated: mid driver mid style mid couple tbh

notafanoflanmelie: i liked him more before she came into the picture → lanwifezone: @notafanoflanmelie he didn’t. he likes it better now too 🫶 → trackbaddies: @notafanoflanmelie respectfully? your opinion isn’t canon x

-------------

The pit wall was vibrating with adrenaline. The roar of the engines had faded, the checkered flag had long since waved, and the crowd at Silverstone was still screaming like it had just happened. But all Amelie could do was stand there, hands pressed tight to her chest, eyes locked on the car that had just rolled to a stop in parc fermé.

Lando’s McLaren.

She barely registered the chaos around her—media crews rushing, mechanics cheering, fans crying in the stands. Her entire world had narrowed to that orange blur and the figure still sitting inside it, helmet on, chest heaving.

He didn’t move for a moment. Just sat there, hands gripping the wheel. Then, slowly, he took a breath and climbed out.

She could see him shaking. Not from fear—no, from something heavier. Something deeper. Years of trying. Years of heartbreak and close calls and people doubting him. And now this.

Silverstone. His home.

Victory.

Helmet still on, he hugged Jon first, tightly, arms around his trainer like he was anchoring himself to reality. Then his manager, the one who’d been with him since he was barely out of karts, then his dad, and his grandparents. Each hug looked a little more like a blur. Like his brain was trying to catch up to his heart.

When he hugged his mum—God, Amelie nearly lost it then. The way she clung to him, hands on both sides of his helmet like she needed to see his face even through the visor. A mum seeing her boy win on home soil. She kissed the top of his head and held him like he was still little.

And then he turned.

He spotted her like he felt her.

And he was walking toward her before she could even breathe.

Amelie couldn’t move. She couldn’t even think. Her whole body felt like it was about to shatter from how full her chest was.

He reached her.

And she just… collapsed into his arms.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers fisting the back of his race suit. She couldn’t stop crying. Not delicate, soft tears—no, these were full, ugly sobs. Loud and unfiltered. Her entire body shook as she kissed his helmet over and over and over.

—Lan. Lan. Oh my god. Baby. Baby, you did it. You did it— she whispered between sobs, kissing the glossy top of his helmet like it was his forehead. —You did it. You fucking did it.—

He didn’t speak. Just held her tighter, forehead pressed to hers through the visor.

Then she stepped back just a little, tears streaming down her face, voice cracking as she reached up and said:

—Let me see you. Please. Lift it. Let me see your eyes.—

He didn’t hesitate. The click of the visor lifting echoed like thunder in her ears. And there they were.

His eyes.

Wide, wet, bloodshot.

She let out a shaky breath, both of them silent, locked in this small fragile space between noise and chaos and history. He blinked hard, a tear falling down his cheek, and Amelie reached up to brush it away.

—I’m so proud of you,— she said, voice trembling. —So, so proud of you.—

He nodded, unable to speak.

Then someone tapped his shoulder, gesturing toward the camera station. The post-win protocol was beginning. The helmets. The hat. The champagne bottle.

Lando gave her one last squeeze before jogging over.

Amelie wiped her face, breathing hard, trying to collect herself—but then she looked up.

On the massive screen overhead, the live broadcast feed showed him walking to the podium table. He picked up the champagne bottle. And then he reached for the pen.

He didn’t hesitate.

He wrote quickly. Boldly.

“For Amelie. Always.”

And then signed it underneath.

Amelie broke all over again.

—Oh my god,— she choked, a hand flying to her mouth.

She didn’t even realize she was crying again until Flo and Cisca appeared on either side of her, hugging her tight. Flo whispered something like “You’re his whole world, you know that?” into her hair while Cisca rubbed her back.

The bottle was placed where it belonged. Lando turned, eyes scanning the crowd. He spotted her again. Met her eyes.

And winked.

Amelie laughed through her sobs, tears streaking down her cheeks, her heart splitting wide open.

But before he could come back, someone tugged on his arm, guiding him toward the cooldown room. He gave her one last look—one more look, like he needed to memorize her—and then disappeared into the building.

The podium music started.

And Amelie just stood there, squeezed between his sisters, staring up at the screen as Lando climbed onto the top step.

She couldn’t hear anything. Not really. Not over the pounding of her heart. The national anthem, the cheers, the commentator yelling his name—it all blurred.

But the image of him standing there, soaked in champagne, holding that trophy over his head with tears still clinging to his lashes?

She’d remember that forever.

The cameras panned out, fireworks cracked into the now dusky sky, and Amelie barely blinked. Her cheeks were soaked, her hands still clasped to her mouth as if trying to hold herself together with the pressure of her own fingers. She felt the weight of Flo and Cisca on either side of her, but her eyes didn’t leave the screen.

Her Lando. Her stupid, brilliant, beautiful Lando—on the top step of the podium at Silverstone.

He was smiling now, the widest she’d ever seen. Laughing with that slightly breathless laugh he only did when he was overwhelmed, the one she’d first heard in Mexico last year when he confessed he’d been in love with her for years. He let the champagne spray over him, then grabbed the bottle back and shook it harder, aiming straight for Oscar.

And that’s when Amelie finally saw.

Oscar stood to Lando’s left—second place. Drenched. Grinning. He pointed at Lando and mouthed something that made Lando throw his head back in another round of breathless laughter.

But it was the figure on the other side of the podium that made her do a full double-take.

She blinked. Wiped her eyes again. Blinked harder.

—Wait… what the...?— she whispered.

She leaned forward, squinting at the screen, trying to make sense of what her overwhelmed brain was seeing.

Because standing there, soaking wet, beaming like he’d just found the last golden ticket on earth, was—

—Nico?!—

Flo and Cisca both whipped their heads to look at her.

—Nico Hülkenberg?!— Amelie said again, louder this time, pointing at the screen like the image might vanish if she blinked too long.

Elysia appeared behind her with a stunned laugh. —You’re kidding. He got third? No, shut up, is this real?—

Amelie turned in full disbelief. —He was starting nineteenth! What the actual hell just happened?!—

On the screen, Nico was grinning with that chaotic, surprised-I-didn’t-crash energy that had made him a paddock legend. He was clapping Oscar on the back, then lifted his bottle like a toast to the crowd. He looked like someone who’d just wandered into the wrong movie and accidentally became the hero.

Amelie laughed so hard she had to grip Cisca’s arm just to stay upright. —I can’t believe it. I CAN’T BELIEVE IT.—

Elysia was already pulling out her phone. —Checo’s gonna lose his mind. I’m texting him right now.—

Amelie nodded through the laughter and tears, and when she looked back up at the screen... there he was again.

Lando.

Still standing center podium, soaking wet, eyes shining.

Her eyes followed the way he looked out over the crowd, searching again.

Like he was still looking for her, even from up there.

A moment later, he lifted the trophy again—one last time—and this time, he pointed straight to the camera as he did it.

Amelie knew.

That was for her.

She pressed her hand to her heart and exhaled.

Everything around her buzzed with excitement. The mechanics clapped. The families cheered. And Amelie stayed perfectly still for one last moment, eyes locked on the screen, watching the man she loved live his dream in front of the world.

The man who had finally won Silverstone.

When the podium ceremony finally ended and the drivers disappeared into the building, Amelie turned to Flo and Cisca again, her voice a little hoarse.

—Is it crazy if I say I’ve never loved him more than right now?—

Flo smiled softly. —It’s not crazy. It’s the only thing that makes sense.—

Cisca brushed a tear from Amelie’s cheek and nudged her. —Come on. Let’s go find your winner.—

And with that, hand still pressed to her heart, cheeks still wet with tears and laughter, Amelie nodded and followed them into the crowd.

Because she had someone to run to.

Someone waiting, with a champagne-soaked race suit and eyes that only ever searched for her.

Her Lando.

They walked slowly, winding their way back through the paddock.

Amelie’s chest was still tight, her cheeks damp, but her steps were light. Flo and Cisca flanked her, both equally overwhelmed, their arms looped together as they moved through the thinning post-race chaos. The buzz hadn’t died down—just shifted. Journalists were shouting, fans were pressing up against barricades, and engineers darted in every direction. The energy was still pulsing.

—He’ll be stuck in the media pen for at least twenty minutes,— Flo said, glancing at her phone.

Amelie nodded. She knew. Her brain was just now catching up to everything that had happened—Silverstone, the win, the champagne, the kiss through the helmet, the words on the bottle. It was all looping in her mind like a dream.

They passed the Kick Sauber motorhome on the way back, and Amelie couldn’t help but slow down a little.

The place was practically vibrating. Engineers were clapping, team members were still spraying the last of a cheap bottle of sparkling wine on each other, and someone had tied a Nico cardboard cutout to the railing on the balcony. It looked like chaos in the best way. Joyful. Unfiltered.

Her smile grew as she watched from a distance, but she kept walking, letting the noise fade behind her.

Back in the McLaren motorhome, it was calmer—colder, even. The team was still glowing with pride, but most people were getting back to business, talking race strategy and press debriefs.

Amelie slid into an empty seat at one of the long tables near the kitchen, letting the cool air inside the motorhome soothe her flushed skin. Across the room, a few engineers were going over laptop screens, and some mechanics were replaying the final laps on a monitor.

Her mind wandered until it caught onto a snippet of a nearby conversation.

—…and they didn’t even have champagne, can you believe that?—

—No way. For real? After all these years?—

—Yeah. Sauber hadn’t prepped anything. Thought they’d be P18 and P19 again. They had to borrow a bottle from Aston to even do the photos.—

Amelie sat up straighter.

Something tugged in her chest. She glanced out the motorhome window toward the green-and-white celebration next door. They were still cheering, still hugging each other in disbelief. Nico was probably somewhere in the middle of it, grinning ear to ear like the lovable menace he was.

She stood up quietly and made her way to the kitchen.

There were always bottles here—McLaren knew how to prepare for a celebration. The countertop still held remnants from earlier: used flutes, empty bottles, celebratory snacks. Without really thinking it through, Amelie grabbed two unopened bottles of champagne, one in each hand.

She was halfway to the door when a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.

—Should I be offended you’re having a private party and didn’t invite me?—

She froze.

Turning slowly, she saw Zac Brown leaning against the wall near the exit, arms crossed, brow raised in amused suspicion.

Amelie blinked, caught. —I...uh…—

She held up the bottles like a child caught stealing cookies.

Zac narrowed his eyes playfully. —That better not be for just you and Lando.—

—No! God, no,— she said quickly, cheeks heating up. —It’s not… that. I just overheard some of the guys saying Sauber didn’t have champagne to celebrate. Nico got his first ever podium today and they were caught totally off-guard. They were using borrowed bottles. I just thought maybe I could... drop these off, you know. No big thing.—

Zac tilted his head, the teasing fading into something softer. Thoughtful.

Then he smiled.

—Only two? Come on. If we’re doing it, let’s do it properly.—

Before she could protest, he stepped past her and motioned to one of the nearby interns.

—Hey, grab a box and three more bottles. And get me one of those generic cards from the gift drawer.—

The intern blinked. —The… gift drawer?—

—Yeah. You know, the “Congrats on a baby” slash “Thanks for the season” drawer. Just grab one that isn’t pink.—

Amelie bit back a laugh as the intern rushed off.

Zac turned back to her, gently plucking the two bottles from her hands. —You’re right. This is what the sport’s about. When someone earns something, no matter the team, you recognize it. Nico deserved that moment. And Sauber deserves to celebrate it right.—

A moment later, the intern returned with a sturdy box, three more bottles nestled inside, and a small white card.

Zac uncapped a pen and scribbled on it without hesitation.

To the Kick Sauber Team — Congratulations on your first podium. It’s well deserved. From all of us at McLaren.

Then he tucked it gently inside the box and closed the lid.

He handed the box to Amelie. —There. Now go make someone’s day even better. And tell Nico that next time he pulls a miracle like that, we expect him to bring tequila.—

Amelie beamed. —I will. And… thank you, Zac.—

Zac winked. —What can I say? I’m a softie for good sportsmanship. Just don’t tell anyone.—

She nodded, carefully balancing the box in her arms, and turned to head out the door again—heart full, steps lighter, eyes still shining with everything the day had given her.

Victory. Friendship. And champagne diplomacy.

It was shaping up to be the best day in a very, very long time.

-------------

liked by podiumgirlie, qualiqween, and others

lanmelieupdates: After his historic home GP win, Lando was seen writing “For Amelie. Always.” on his champagne bottle before the podium 🥹🫧

WE'RE NOT CRYING, YOU ARE.

View all 284,849 comments

lanmeliecore: the way he wrote “for amelie. always.” on the bottle i’m gonna scream → gridgfz: @lanmeliecore he’s so HIM for that → mclarenmama: @lanmeliecore that’s not a boyfriend that’s a husband 😭

chaoticwags: lando wins and dedicates it to his gf like a romcom protagonist HELP → noririzzed: @chaoticwags it’s giving “my girl deserves a trophy and i’ll be it”

podiumgirlie: no bc if my man doesn’t write declarations on champagne bottles i don’t want it → landowhore: @podiumgirlie she unlocked peak boyfriend mode and i respect her for that → daydreamzoned: @landowhore it’s not a soft launch it’s a public proposal LMAO

sundayswithamelie: he’s so unserious every day but then he does THIS???? → f1zaddict: @sundayswithamelie he’s a lover boy trapped in a meme lord body → lan4ever: @f1zaddict and she’s the only one who sees both 💅

pitwallwives: lando: “for amelie. always.” me: rewatching that 0.3 seconds of footage 40 times in a row

wagsupreme: she got a race win and a dedication. the rest of us are fighting for crumbs → lanfan4life: @wagsupreme and he still looked at her like she hung the moon 😭 → spicytowin: @lanfan4life GIVE ME THIS LOVE OR GIVE ME NOTHING

lanfanpageshrine: why is no one talking about how he wrote it down like??? he could’ve said it but no, sir grabbed a pen → gridrat: @lanfanpageshrine his roman empire is literally her

sillyseasonchaos: imagine being so in love you dedicate your HOME GP WIN to your girlfriend 😭 → fanonfire: @sillyseasonchaos like he didn’t even hesitate… → hernameisno: @fanonfire she blinked and he said “forever” 😭

norrisbabe44: me trying to act normal after lando publicly declared his undying love for amelie: 🫠 → thelanmeliesource: @norrisbabe44 therapy can’t fix this i need a lanmelie documentary

tracksidehottie: “for amelie. always.” is my new contact name for every situationship i enter → tifosibaddie: @tracksidehottie delulu is the only solulu → notsomclaren: @tifosibaddie if he wanted to he would and LANDO DID

qualiqween: his handwriting. the message. the meaning. i am simply deceased. → rbrreject: @qualiqween what do we even DO with this info → lanmeliefiles: @rbrreject cry in peace and reread it 400 times

l4nmoon: lando said "for amelie" and i said "goodbye to my sanity" → wheelnwife: @l4nmoon he’s her man and we are just observers of their cinematic universe

amelieflwrz: this is straight out of a wattpad fic and i’m LIVING → drsdrama: @amelieflwrz tell me why i started crying like he dedicated it to ME 😭

softfornorris: imagine being someone’s always 😭 i’m gonna scream into a pillow

qualiqween: i hope she frames that bottle. puts it above the fireplace. worships it daily. → daniilnotkvyat: @qualiqween it’s the modern love letter tbh → lanmama: @daniilnotkvyat he couldn’t post a paragraph so he wrote it on glass 💀

-------------

The dressing room shimmered in soft pinks and silvers, lit by the overhead bulbs surrounding the mirror as Amelie worked through her final vocal exercises. Her voice climbed and dipped, weaving gently through warm-ups as Claudia guided her with calm, steady encouragement.

She was already fully dressed for Night 2 at Silverstone—her bodysuit catching every glint of light in the room. The dazzling, silvery-white sequins wrapped her frame like stardust, long sleeves glinting with every movement. “Amelie” was embroidered across her chest in a delicate pink script, and her white knee-high boots gave her an unshakable confidence—even as she rocked slightly on her heels, hands pressed together at her sternum to focus her breathing. Over everything, she wore a silky pink robe that fluttered when she moved.

Claudia nodded in approval. —One more arpeggio and we’re done.—

Amelie nodded, humming softly through the scale, her focus sharp despite the swirl of emotion that still buzzed beneath her skin. She hadn’t seen Lando since the podium. The media, the team debriefs, the chaos of the win—it had kept him locked up in a whirlwind. And though she understood, God, she missed him.

She finished the final scale, exhaling deeply.

And then...

Knock knock.

Claudia turned to glance at the door. —Come in.—

The door creaked open.

And there he was.

Lando stood in the doorway, his curls still slightly damp, a fresh black McLaren hoodie clinging to his frame, and that look in his eyes. He held a bouquet of yellow tulips in one hand—bright, sunny, unmistakably him—and in the other, the signed champagne bottle from the podium.

Amelie’s breath hitched.

Claudia immediately smiled like she knew her time was up. —Okay, that’s my cue.— She gave Lando a quick nod and Amelie a wink. —Don’t forget to stay hydrated, superstar.—

—Thank you, Clauds,— Amelie murmured as the door closed behind her.

The second it clicked shut, Amelie was already crossing the room.

She stopped just in front of him, blinking at the bouquet like it was too much. Like he was too much. Her heart was already doing somersaults.

—Lan… you already gave me flowers a few days ago.—

He shrugged, eyes soft, a playful little smirk tugging at his lips. —They’re never enough.—

She laughed quietly, cheeks warming. Of course he’d say that.

Gently, she took the tulips from him, fingers brushing his in the hand-off. She held them to her chest for a second, inhaling their subtle scent, before walking over to the table and placing them carefully in a vase someone had left behind from earlier glam. It was mismatched and too short, but she made it work.

When she turned back, Lando was holding out the champagne bottle like a peace offering.

—You forgot something,— he said, grin wider now, boyish and smug and utterly in love.

Amelie let out a quiet laugh, stepping back toward him. Her hands found the sides of his face and she kissed him—longer this time. Slower. Lips pressing into his like she could imprint all her pride, all her joy, into that one moment.

He kissed her back like he was still catching his breath from the race.

When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers, their noses brushing.

—Should we open it?— he asked, voice low, like a secret.

Amelie smiled, thumb brushing over his cheek. —Just one glass. I still have to sing, remember?—

—One glass,— he agreed, eyes sparkling.

He stepped over to the small table by the mirror, found two glasses nestled between makeup brushes and throat lozenges, and popped the bottle open with a soft pop that echoed through the room like a punctuation mark on the day. He poured carefully, passing one glass to Amelie.

They sat together on the velvet loveseat tucked in the corner of the dressing room. Amelie tucked her legs under her, and Lando pulled her close, arm around her waist, her head falling against his shoulder. The glittering bodysuit shimmered where it touched his hoodie, like her light was bleeding into him.

They sipped slowly.

No rush. No cameras. No noise.

Just the two of them.

—You don’t understand how proud I am of you,— she whispered, barely loud enough to be heard over the quiet hum of the air conditioning. —Like… I knew you could do it. But watching it happen, watching you... you were unbelievable.—

He didn’t answer right away. Just leaned in and kissed her temple, lips lingering.

—You were there for everything,— he said softly. —Even when I thought I’d never get there. You always believed in me. Even when I didn’t.—

Amelie looked up at him, eyes glassy again. —Always. That’s never changing.—

He smiled gently, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. —I kept looking for you after. Even with everyone around, I just… I kept thinking about you.—

His voice cracked slightly at the end.

Amelie’s heart clenched.

She turned fully toward him on the loveseat, placing her half-finished glass down on the small table beside them, then cupped his face in both hands. —Lan...—

But he shook his head softly, eyes blinking faster now, like he was trying to fight it.

Too late.

His shoulders trembled. His face twisted in that helpless, overwhelmed way that only came after you’d held it in too long. The first tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it.

And then it broke.

He buried his face against her neck, arms winding around her waist tightly, holding on like he was scared to let go. The sob was small—barely a sound—but it shook through him with years of pressure behind it. All the near misses. All the doubt. All the almosts that finally turned into a yes.

Amelie wrapped her arms around him immediately, cradling the back of his head, kissing his curls, whispering soft, grounding things into his skin.

—I’ve got you. I’ve got you. It’s okay, baby. Let it out. You’re safe. I’m here. You did it. You really, really did it.—

He clung to her like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground. His fingers gripped the soft fabric of her pink robe, and he nodded against her shoulder like he was trying to believe her words with every fiber of his being.

And slowly he calmed.

His breathing steadied. His hands stopped shaking. He pulled back, sniffling once, brushing at his face like he was embarrassed.

Amelie kissed the tip of his nose. —Hey,— she murmured, smiling softly. —You’re allowed to cry. You’re not a robot. You’re just a boy who finally got everything he’s worked for. That deserves a breakdown or two.—

Lando let out a watery laugh, wiping under his eyes. —I’m not crying. You’re crying.—

She rolled her eyes, grinning. —You wish you looked this good crying.—

They both laughed, and he leaned in again to kiss her—quick, happy, grateful. A sigh of relief on his lips. When they broke apart, she rested her forehead against his once more, and they just sat there, breathing together.

Until...

A knock.

Followed by the soft creak of the door opening and a voice —Amelie? It’s time. Backstage call.—

Amelie looked toward the door and nodded. —Coming.—

She stood slowly, reluctantly pulling away from Lando’s arms. He watched her as she adjusted her robe and reached for the mic pack one of her assistants had left nearby.

She turned to him, tying the pink robe tighter around her waist.

He stood too, already reaching for her with his eyes.

They walked together down the narrow hallway of the backstage area, her heels clicking softly, his hand brushing against hers every so often as if he couldn’t stop needing to feel her there. The sound of the crowd outside was already building—waves of anticipation swelling through the walls.

They reached the side stage entrance, where the buzz of the live show pulsed like a heartbeat. Her dancers were stretching, the crew making final adjustments to lighting cues. Everything was moving, alive.

Amelie paused.

And smirked.

—Hold this for me, would you?—

She slipped the robe off her shoulders, smooth and slow, and handed it to him.

Lando took it automatically—and then just stared.

Because fuck.

There she was, in full stage glory. That shimmering, silvery-white bodysuit clinging to every curve, sequins catching the low dressing room light and turning her into a walking constellation. The pink embroidery across her chest, the long sleeves, the zipper teasing down the center, the high boots elongating her legs—everything about her made his mouth go dry.

Lando’s eyes darkened with something electric, a hunger that made the air between them pulse. He swallowed hard, still holding the soft pink robe in his hands, and then his voice dropped to a teasing growl.

—Later tonight, you’re gonna have to remind me why I’m supposed to be focusing on race wins and champagne, and not just you.—

Amelie’s smirk twisted into a full-on grin, and without missing a beat, she flipped him off with one perfectly manicured finger.

—Keep dreaming, Norris.—

Lando laughed—a low, warm sound that filled the hallway—and stepped closer, just enough to brush his fingertips along her hip.

She rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away.

—Go get ‘em, superstar.—

With a final glance back at Lando, who was still watching her like she was the only person in the world, she stepped through the curtain.

The stage lights hit her like a wave, the crowd’s roar swelling instantly, and somewhere deep inside, she felt that same electric charge she’d seen in Lando’s eyes just moments before.

Fuck, how much he loved her.

And damn, did she love him back.

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liked by backseatlanmelie, paddockpookiez, and others

amelienation: @ameliedayman just took the stage for Night 2 in Silverstone and the crowd is already losing it!! 65k people screaming every word back to her—she’s glowing, she’s stomping, she’s mothering 😭💅

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f1slayclub: the way she’s performing and he’s probs watching backstage with heart eyes 😭 → lanmelietruther: @f1slayclub he’s already planning the post-show cuddle session and i would too tbh

gridgroupie: i need them to release the netflix doc NOW i can’t wait to see this behind the scenes → tyreprincess: @gridgroupie we’re gonna see lando literally mouthing every lyric backstage just wait

yellowsuitlandon: HE WON SILVERSTONE AND NOW SHE’S TAKING THE STAGE??? it’s THEIR weekend → mcloveme: @yellowsuitlandon she said “i’ll give u a concert for the trophy” and he took that personally

chaoticwags: she better dedicate the encore to her little british boyfriend → norrisimp: @chaoticwags if she screams “this one’s for Lando” i’ll combust on the spot

backseatlanmelie: the power this couple holds is illegal. illegal i say.

ameliecore: i saw a man crying in the crowd i just know it was lando → mczoomies: @ameliecore he’s sobbing into his monster can backstage as we speak

silverstonedrama: she’s the only WAG that would headline after the race and we love that for her → lanfan6969: @silverstonedrama she said "girlbossing comes after podium kisses" and she meant it

lanmama4ever: she really said “okay baby won his home race, time to shut it down myself” ICONIC → ameliesscreen: @lanmama4ever it’s a lanmelie double podium and i’m sobbing

grandstandgf: not me spotting Lando in the crowd with his team pass still on 💀

norisnumberone: she looks like an angel up there and he’s def in the back whispering “that’s mine” → t4rkogoblin: @norrisnumberone and we respect that king behavior

paddockpookiez: someone said she soundchecked in her race day fit earlier 😭😭 → croissantqueen: @paddockpookiez she said effortlessly stunning at all times

wheelfairy: did y’all see him fixing her mic before the set?? the way he looked at her 😭 → sparkplugbabe: @wheelfairy he looked like he was adjusting a crown not a mic

gridhunny: no bc Lando watching her sing “Manchild” and smiling like a fool? HE KNOWS → lanmotel: @gridhunny she roasts men for fun and he’s just happy to be there

qualiqween: she’s the headliner and the trophy wife. i fear we lost → drslover: @qualiqween no but actually… she IS the moment

tifositalks: the whole grid came to watch her i’m SCREAMING → yktslow: @tifositalks someone find me video of charles bopping to “manchild” i BEG

lanlanlanmelie: LANDO GOT A TROPHY AND A PRIVATE CONCERT IN ONE DAY 😭 → wagwarrior: @lanlanlanmelie she’s singing to him like it’s a romcom finale and i’m not okay

gridgirlchronicles: she walked on stage like she owned the paddock and the venue → mf1lover: @gridgirlchronicles that’s bc she does. queen behavior only

hotlaphoe: someone check on Lando he’s in the corner with tears in his eyes and no one’s talking about it → t1rfqueen: @hotlaphoe he looked like a kid seeing fireworks for the first time

leclercsmuse: imagine being serenaded by your gf in front of 60k people after winning your home race

lanlovebot: the way she looked at him when she said “this next one’s for someone really special” → gridromance: @lanlovebot say it louder for the people in the back 🫶

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Lando's victory at Silverstone was still buzzing in the air, a thrilling echo that followed them back to their hotel room. The race had been a whirlwind, the concert a triumphant after-party, and now, with less than an hour until dinner and the official after-party, a different kind of anticipation settled between Lando and Amelie.

Lando, ever the meticulous planner, was already on his phone, making last-minute adjustments to their evening's itinerary. —No, no, tell them we need the private room, not the main dining area,— he murmured into the receiver, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Amelie, meanwhile, decided to be proactive. —I’m hitting the shower,— she announced, heading for the bathroom. —Want to make sure I have enough time to actually get ready while you’re in there.—

Lando hummed an absent affirmative, still engrossed in his call. The bathroom door clicked shut, and the soft rush of water soon filled the air. Amelie let the warm spray wash over her, feeling the tension of the day melt away. She reached for the shampoo, working the lather into her hair, enjoying the simple luxury of a hot shower after such an exhilarating day.

She tilted her head back, closing her eyes as she rinsed the last of the suds from her hair. The water drummed a steady rhythm against the tiles, a soothing backdrop to her thoughts. It was then, just as she was about to open her eyes, that she felt it—a pair of warm hands encircling her waist.

A startled gasp caught in her throat. Her eyes flew open, but all she saw was the blurry stream of water. Then, a low voice, right next to her ear, sent a shiver down her spine.

—Shh, shh, it’s just me,— Lando whispered, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her.

His hands, still on her waist, began to drift lower, guiding themselves over her wet skin, a slow, deliberate caress. The water continued to cascade around them, but suddenly, Amelie was acutely aware of every sensation, every touch. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat matching the pulsing in her ears. Lando's touch was light at first, a teasing whisper against her skin, before his fingers found their destination, settling over her folds.

Amelie leaned back slightly, her breath catching. The world outside the shower seemed to fade, replaced by the intimacy of their shared space, the scent of her shampoo mingling with Lando's own familiar scent, and the delicious, undeniable thrill of his unexpected presence.

Lando's fingers danced over her, a knowing exploration that sent shivers through Amelie. He leaned in, his lips finding the sensitive skin of her neck, trailing hot kisses that left a fiery path in their wake. Amelie gasped, her hands instinctively reaching for his shoulders, gripping them as if to steady herself against the rising tide of sensation.

—Lando,— she breathed, her voice a shaky whisper, barely audible over the drumming water and the pounding of her own heart. —We... we can’t. Everyone’s waiting. They’re celebrating you.—

He chuckled, a low, husky sound that vibrated against her ear. His fingers continued their work, eliciting soft moans that Amelie tried desperately to stifle. —They can wait a few more minutes,— he murmured, his voice laced with playful defiance. —I want to celebrate with you first. Just us.—

He turned her gently in his arms until she was facing him, the water still cascading around them, blurring the edges of the world. His eyes, usually alight with competitive fire, were now dark with desire, fixed solely on her. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a deep, possessive kiss that left no room for protest. All thoughts of waiting parties and meticulous schedules vanished, replaced by the intoxicating pull of Lando's presence, his touch, and the undeniable urge to celebrate their victory in their own private way.

He broke the kiss, but only to resume his assault on her neck, peppering it with soft, lingering kisses that sent shivers through Amelie. His hands moved from her waist, sliding up her back, urging her closer until their bodies were pressed flush against each other under the warm spray.

Amelie’s hands, no longer gripping his shoulders, began their own journey. They traced the strong line of his neck, feeling the pulse thrumming beneath her fingertips, before gliding down over the hard planes of his chest and abdomen. Her touch was exploratory, tentative at first, then bolder as her fingers found what they were seeking. She wrapped her hand around him, a soft gasp escaping Lando’s lips as she began to stroke him, slowly at first, then with a growing confidence that matched the pounding rhythm of her own desire.

A deep moan rumbled in Lando’s chest, a sound that vibrated through her fingertips and echoed in the small, steamy space. He leaned his head back against the tiled wall, the water sluicing over his face, his eyes closed in a mixture of pleasure and surrender. Even in this moment, consumed by sensation, he was still Lando, always in control, yet completely given over to her touch.

—Mi amor,— he breathed, his voice rough with desire. —You’re incredible, sunshine.— The endearments, sweet and potent, ignited a new spark within Amelie, a thrill that came from knowing she had the power to make the usually composed Lando completely unravel. She smiled, pressing her body closer, reveling in the feeling of his response in her hand, knowing that for now, the world outside could wait.

Amelie’s movements were sudden, decisive. Without warning, she dropped to her knees in the shower, the cool tiles a stark contrast to the heat that had flared between them. Her hand never left him, continuing its rhythmic dance, and Lando's moan deepened in response.

Their eyes met through the steam, hers alight with a fierce determination, his dark with a mixture of surprise and burgeoning desire.

—Let me show you how proud I am of you, Lando,— she murmured, her voice husky, her gaze unwavering.

A soft groan escaped Lando’s lips, a sound of pure surrender. He reached out, his hand threading through her wet hair, gathering it into a loose ponytail. His fingers brushed against her scalp, a surprisingly tender gesture amidst the rising tension. With his other hand, he gently guided her head forward, a silent command that Amelie eagerly obeyed. She leaned in, her wet lips finding their target, enclosing him with a soft, hungry warmth.

Amelie worked her magic, her wet mouth and skilled tongue driving Lando to the brink. Low groans rumbled in his chest, punctuated by sharp intakes of breath. —Fuck, Amelie… Mi amor,— he swore, his voice strained, his hands gripping the top of her head, not to push her away, but to steady himself against the overwhelming pleasure. He squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw clenched, fighting the insistent urge to release.

He swayed slightly, his control teetering. —No, no, wait…— he gasped, and with a final, desperate moan, he gently but firmly guided her mouth away from him.

He pulled her up, steadying her as she rose to stand before him, still dripping wet from the shower. His face was flushed, his hair plastered to his forehead, and a hint of something unreadable flickered in his eyes—a mix of intense pleasure and a touch of… shame?

—Did I… did I do something wrong?— Amelie asked, her brow furrowed with concern, misinterpreting his expression.

Lando’s hands immediately went to cup her face, his thumbs gently caressing her cheekbones. —No! God, no, sunshine. You were absolutely incredible. More than wonderful.— He took a deep, shuddering breath, his gaze intense. —It’s just… I really, really need to taste you now.—

Without another word, he lowered himself to his knees on the tiled floor, the cold not registering. His eyes, still smoldering with desire, fixed on her, a silent question in their depths.

Amelie and Lando’s eyes locked, a silent conversation passing between them. The air, thick with steam and unspoken desires, hummed with anticipation. With a decisive movement, Lando reached for the shower faucet, twisting it until the steady spray of water ceased, leaving only the sound of their breathing in the sudden quiet.

He then reached for Amelie, his hand gently finding her left leg. She instinctively braced herself against the cool, tiled wall of the shower as he lifted her leg, placing her foot firmly on his shoulder. Her inner thigh was now exposed, glistening with water droplets, and Lando’s gaze devoured her.

He leaned in, his lips warm and soft against her skin, starting a slow ascent up her inner thigh. Each kiss was a feather-light touch, deliberate and agonizingly slow, moving ever closer to her core but never quite reaching it. Amelie gasped, her fingers digging into the tiled wall, a low moan escaping her lips as a wave of intense heat spread through her.

He continued his teasing path, his tongue tracing patterns that sent shivers through her, each breath from him a whisper against her sensitized skin. Amelie’s head fell back against the tiles, her vision blurring at the edges from the sheer intensity. The exquisite torture was almost unbearable.

—Lando, please…— she whimpered, her voice strained, a plea forming on her lips.

But her words were cut short. Just as the complaint began to truly escape, Lando’s mouth found its destination. He devoured her with a hunger that stole her breath, a deep, guttural moan rumbling from his chest as he took her in.

Amelie cried out, a mix of shock and pure, unadulterated pleasure. Her fingers, still digging into the wall, now gripped it tighter, her body arching into his mouth. He was everything she had craved, every lingering kiss on her thigh a promise fulfilled with devastating intensity.

Lando, still on his knees, began to move, a slow, deliberate rhythm that stole her breath. He held her leg securely on his shoulder, his free hand settling on her hip, anchoring her as he worshipped her.

—Mi amor… you taste incredible,— he rasped against her, his voice muffled by her, but the words vibrating through her core. —Exactly what I needed.—

Amelie could only whimper in response, completely lost in the moment, the world outside the shower—the waiting party, the celebrations—fading into an irrelevant hum. All that mattered was Lando, his mouth, and the profound, electric connection between them.

Amelie’s moans grew louder, a continuous, breathless sound that filled the small, steamy space. Her hand, trembling with the intensity of it all, found its way into Lando’s damp hair, gripping the strands and pulling gently, a desperate attempt to anchor herself against the overwhelming tide of sensation.

Just as she thought she couldn’t take any more, Lando’s free hand, which had been bracing her hip, now moved, his fingers slipping inside her. The dual assault sent an electric shock through Amelie’s entire being.

—Fuck, Lando!— she cried out, her voice a raw, uninhibited scream. Her body convulsed around his mouth and fingers, every muscle clenching, tightening. —Oh, baby… Baby!—

Lando groaned in response, a deep, satisfied sound that vibrated through her. He increased the rhythm, both with his mouth and his fingers, driving her higher and higher, pushing her to the edge of an exquisite precipice.

—That’s it, sunshine, come for me,— he encouraged, his voice muffled but urgent against her, drawing out her pleasure, urging her to let go.

And then, she shattered. A violent tremor rocked her body, her back arching, her hips bucking against him. A guttural cry tore from her throat as release ripped through her, hot and undeniable. She came in his mouth, a wild, unrestrained explosion that left her weak-kneed and breathless.

Lando held her steady, taking every last bit of her. When the last of the tremors subsided, he finally pulled away, his face glistening, his eyes dark with shared pleasure and triumph. He looked up at her, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

Lando gently lowered Amelie's leg, but not before pressing one last, lingering kiss to her inner thigh, right where her pulse throbbed. He then stood, pulling her into a tight embrace, his lips finding hers in a deep, consuming kiss. Amelie could taste herself on him, a potent, primal flavor that sent a fresh wave of heat through her.

He pulled back just slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. —Well, that was definitely the best dinner I’ve ever had,— he quipped, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

Amelie rolled her eyes, a soft laugh escaping her, but she couldn't help but lean in and kiss him again, a sweet, lingering peck that quickly deepened. Lando groaned into the kiss, his body responding instantly, his dick hardening even further against her.

As their kiss deepened, Lando’s hand found Amelie’s hip, gently turning her so her back was now pressed against his chest. He guided her down, slowly, until she was in a kneeling position, her weight settling back on her heels. He then positioned himself between her legs, one of his knees settling between hers, effectively opening her.

He was facing her, looking down at her as he guided himself, his hard dick pressing against her sweet spot, moving up and down in a tantalizing rhythm.

Amelie gasped, her breath catching in her throat as he began to move, a low moan escaping her lips. The sensation was electric, a perfect pressure that promised immediate release.

—Oh, Lando…— she whimpered, her hands instinctively reaching out to grip his forearms.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. —You liked dinner, sunshine? Because dessert’s about to be even better.— His voice was a husky whisper, sending shivers down her spine. He kept his eyes locked on hers, watching her reaction, in complete control, yet utterly consumed by the moment.

Amelie’s hands, still bracing against the cool tiles of the shower wall, were her only anchor as Lando thrust into her. He moved with a practiced rhythm, each powerful stroke driving her higher, faster.

—Fuck, Amelie, you’re so good,— he rasped, his voice raw with exertion and pleasure. He gripped her waist, his fingers digging into her skin as he controlled their pace, pushing them both closer to the edge.

The shower stall was filled with the sounds of their labored breaths, the wet slap of skin, and Amelie’s escalating moans. Lando wanted to lose himself completely, but there was an urgent need to see her, to witness the uninhibited pleasure on her face.

With a final, deep thrust, Lando pulled back slightly, then gently helped Amelie push herself up from her position. He spun her around so she was facing him, her back now to the wall. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs stroking her wet cheeks, his eyes scanning her face, swollen lips, flushed skin, half-lidded eyes. He leaned in, giving her a sweet, tender kiss, a soft balm after the fierce intensity.

—My sunshine,— he whispered against her lips, a deep fondness in his voice.

Then, without warning, he scooped her up into his arms. Amelie instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, holding on tight. As he carried her, her inner thighs squeezed him, and she felt him press against her. With a bold move, she managed to guide his already hard dick to brush against her folds, then, with a little shift, she enveloped him.

A sharp gasp escaped Lando’s lips, his eyes widening. —Fuck, Amelie,— he breathed, the words laced with surprise and intense pleasure. —You’re so incredibly tight, mi amor. Holy shit.—

Amelie just tightened her hold, a triumphant smile playing on her lips, the delicious sensation of him deep inside her as he carried her making her moan softly against his neck.

Lando's pace quickened, each step a thrust, each movement deepening their intimate connection. He devoured her mouth with hungry kisses, his own moans mingling with hers as he continued to carry her through the steamy bathroom. He could feel her tightening around him, a delicious, undeniable sign that she was on the brink.

—Oh, Lando, baby, I’m… I’m about to come!— Amelie gasped, her voice strained with the effort of holding back, her nails digging gently into his shoulders.

—Hold on, sunshine, just a little bit more,— he rasped, his voice thick with his own impending release. —I want to feel you come apart with me. We're coming together.—

Amelie whimpered, her body taut with the effort. —Fuck, Lando, it’s… it’s so hard! Holy shit!— But she squeezed tighter, fighting the overwhelming urge, her entire focus narrowed to this shared, exquisite torment.

He thrust one last, powerful time, a guttural roar tearing from his throat as they both shattered. Amelie screamed into his mouth, her body convulsing around him, a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure washing over them both. Lando staggered, holding her tighter, his own release hitting him with dizzying force. They held each other, breathless, swaying slightly as the last tremors subsided.

A few minutes later, the adrenaline slowly dissipating, they managed to pull themselves together. The shower, originally intended for a quick rinse, became a rushed affair. They splashed water over themselves, scrubbing quickly, the lingering scent of their passion still clinging to their skin.

As Amelie stepped out, wrapping a towel around her damp hair, she saw Lando staring at his phone, a bewildered expression on his face. She pulled on her underwear, a soft, lacy brief, feeling the cool air against her flushed skin.

—Everything alright, baby?— she asked, a smirk playing on her lips, knowing full well what he was likely seeing.

Lando finally looked up, his eyes wide. —"Alright"? Amelie, I have fifty-seven missed calls.— He scrolled through his screen, a mix of disbelief and amusement on his face. —My mum, my dad, Max, George… Even my agent!— He shook his head, a wry grin spreading across his face. —Totally worth it, though.—

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