Sara

Though you could have very well done without all the drama that had led to it happening in the first place, you wouldn’t change anything that happened all weekend.

Between the Sprint, Quali and Race, Saturday and Sunday had been filled with holding hands, nothing new there, stolen kisses behind tyre stacks, very much very new, and a lovely dinner your best friend boyfriend? Had somehow managed to arrange in such a short time that you suspected P to be behind it all.

And from there on it was one thing after the other. From a win for Charles who you were required to celebrate with as your boss, to Maranello first thing Monday morning for race debrief in which you had zero use to anyone, to somehow ending up spending time with Kimi who needed a little comfort after his disastrous race ending.

How that last one had come to happen you were still not quite sure but you weren’t going to complain after he paid for your lunch on Wednesday before you went to the airport and home to Monaco.

Lando had been there since Monday evening, race debrief being done far faster then the one Ferrari had held and thus being home 2 days before you.

2 days of missing him so much you were sure it had been 2 years, at least that’s what it felt like.

It wasn’t that you had never missed him before when you hadn’t joined Ferrari yet and had your fixed job in Monaco but somehow that too had changed since your confession.

The aircraft touched down in Nice, a weight you hadn’t felt until then falling off your shoulders and feeling more at easy when you got into the back of Charles car after Alexandra had insisted that they would drive you home since you were basically neighbors either way. That arrangement had been established after your first race weekend on the job in canada.

Bit dreamy you sat in the back, not noticing how Charles kept a slightly worried eye on you through the rearview mirror, watching you look out the window with a dopey smile that left him wondering if the summer heat had now finally gotten to your head.

You were so in your headyou hadn’t even noticed him leaning over to Alexandra to whisper, “You think she’s okay? She’s been like this all weekend. It’s getting a bit scary, no…”

His wife chuckled with a glance back.

“I think whatever’s got her like this, just has her really happy.”

She wouldn’t dare tell Charles that she had seen you and Lando more than a bit cozy after Quali, at least not until you felt comfortable enough to tell him yourself.

Even married to your boss, she knew that it wasn’t her secret to tell.

“If you say so, but if this goes into Spa—”

“It most definitely will and you will say nothing.”

The Monegasque huffed playfully at her tone just as he pulled up in front of your building.

As if someone had pressed a button somewhere, you snapped out of trance and looked up.

“Oh, are we here already?” you asked a bit dazed and reached to unbuckle yourself before getting out of the car. You grabbed your suitcase from the trunk and went to say bye.

“Tell Lando hi from me!” Alexandra said with a wink that left you frozen with wide eyes before the car was off.

For a few more seconds you stood on the side walk, stunned and frozen in place until your brain had caught up again before shaking your head and heading inside to get out of the heat.

The elevator took its sweet time coming down from the 11th floor, opening its door just as you got more antsy to fall into Lando’s embrace waiting up on your floor. You were already later then planned, the 1and a half hour delay of the plane having messed with your planes quite a bit and if the influx of texts from Lando was any indication then he was just as unamused by it as you were.

The doors opened on your floor, prompting you to practically speed down the hall to the right apartment, keys almost landing on the floor as you rummaged through your purse to find them in the first place. They jingled once, door unlocking with a click.

A long breath left you, one that released every bit of tension left behind by the last few days and the suitcase pushed to the side to be forgotten until you found the will to do laundry.

The door had barely fell shut behind you before hurried footsteps echoed through the apartment and a second later Lando was there in your space.

Gigantic hands cupping your cheek as his lips pressed hard against yours, already moving ever so gently. Not even a piece of paper would have fit between you with the way he had caged you against the wooden surface of the apartment door.

“You took too long,” he sighed against your mouth, unwilling to part as he went in for another kiss that was far more demanding.

His words had you huff a soft laugh into the kiss, fingers twirling a stray strand of hair at the back of his neck

“Lan, its been 2 days.”

He quickly shook his head making the messy curls on his head bounce for a moment, face buried in the crock of your neck and stealing your breath as his mouth focused on the skin there.

“To long now that I get to have you properly!”

Heat rushed to your face, warming your face and skin all over.

“You’ve always had me!” you breathed out, head falling back against wood, enjoying what he was doing to you so easily.

“Not like this!” Lando argued without coming up or stopping at all.

“God you’re so needy”

Shameless as he was Lando looked up and gave you a devilish grin that simply screamed mischief.

“For you? Fuck yes.”

He didn’t even pretend to be embarrassed. No, it just made him grin bigger as his right hand traveled lower to settle on your waist. His hold wasn’t rough but it wasn’t gentle either. Instead it was like he wasn’t risking you getting away for even a second if he could prevent it in any way.

Good for him that you weren’t trying to get away. Your knees threatened to give out under you, growing weak once you felt his mouth back on yours, tongue desperate to be let in.

Lando, eager as a puppy slipped his hand under your shirt, finger splayed out on your skin as the top rode up.

Your lips parted, letting out an involuntary moan at his ministrations and when his leg somehow found its way between yours and pressed up against you, your breath hitched.

Quickly you hit his chest to get him to back off a little. The look of utter confusion and desperation almost made you laugh out loud.

“What?”

“You know…” you snorted. “As much as I want you, I really don’t want you to fuck me against our front door.”

The reaction was immediate. Instead of letting up however, his hands found your ass, smacking encouraging against it with a smirk. “Jump.”

You didn’t let him tell you twice and you jumped, legs wrapping around his waist as he held you up with ease. The bulge in his sweats pressed deliciously into your thigh a friction you couldn’t help but grind against as much as you could in your position.

Lando hissed under his breath, nearly stumbling with you in his arms as he quickly caught himself and shouldered the door to the bedroom open.

With a loud oof, you landed on the bed.

Raised eyebrow, hands pushing yourself upright on the mattress you smirked cheekily.

“Elegant as ever Mr. Norris.”

Lando rolled his eyes at the teasing. “Ever thought that you might just be heavy?”

The joke was evident in the glint in his eyes and the tone of his voice and so you didn’t react in any way, choosing to laugh instead of getting revenge.

You burst into laughter, shaking your head as you reached out to catch the front of his T-shirt to tug it over his head, revealing his chest when he threw it somewhere behind him before climbing onto the bed to join you. He settled quickly between your legs again and making quick work with your own shirt which landed similar to his somewhere behind him.

The moment it was gone his focus fell to your chest. The black bra lined with some delicate red-ish flowers that you had picked this morning doing more for him then probably appropriate.

“You’re so fucking sexy, you know that?” he hummed against your throat, getting on top of you and kissing lower along the line of the lace covering your nipples.

“And you talk to much!”

With that you quickly got to work. Your jeans got shrugged off, hands reaching for his sweatpants so you were both in equal states of undress.

Lando caught your wrists before you could finish tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants, a crooked grin spreading across his face as he leaned down.

“So impatient too,” he murmured, amusement dancing in his eyes, though the way he looked at you made your heart race all the same. You reached up to brush an unruly curl away from his face, unable to stop smiling when he immediately leaned into your touch.

“Missed you,” he admitted quietly this time, the teasing slipping away just enough for the words to sound painfully honest. You answered by stealing another lingering kiss, slow and unhurried and surprised him by flipping him on his back.

“Missed you too.” You whispered against his lips.

Caught off guard by landing on his back the brit could only stare as you sat up, reached back to unclasp the hook behind your back and the fabric fell away entirely. He almost drooled at the sight of you.

“You done starring yet?” you quipped and ground down against his dick still straining against his boxers. It was cruel, that you knew and yet you didn’t care. Instead you kept doing it again and again, leaving him a bit breathless as he twitched eager against your pussy.

“You done running that mouth of yours?” Lando groaned at the feeling. He sat up, you still in his lap and his mouth all of a sudden wrapped around your right nipple, tongue lapping at the bud insistently and the already there wet patch in your slip growing bigger.

“Oh–“ you moaned loudly and clenched around nothing.

“Seems like it, hm… my love all helpless from just this? Wonder what you sound like riding me then…” The words were sweet, almost like honey and they fired up the urged to actually get his dick out and inside off you.

Lando could see what it was doing to you and quickly go rid of the last of your clothing.

His cock sprang free, making your mouth water.

As if he had read your mind he shook his head. “Not now, just let me feel you,” he said cupping you jaw and brushing his thumb over your little pout.

Retaliating you quickly wrapped your lips around the digit, tongue lapping at it for a second meant to tease.

“No, dont play dirty love. Not when you’re already dripping on my thigh…”

“Then hurry up and get a condom before I start taking care of it myself!” you bit out impatient as ever, making him grin wolfishly.

“You sure? We could—”

You quickly cut him off with a look. “Baby, unless you want a little mini you in nine months, you should get that condom… at least until I can get back on the pill.”

That shut him up and scrambling to the nightstand fast. Not that he didn’t want kids but he didn’t want them now.

Lando returned a moment later, the foil packet pinched between his fingers, though the smug grin on his face hadn’t faded in the slightest.

“Happy now?” he asked, climbing back onto the bed, only for you to steal it from his hand.

“I am,” you smiled, reaching up to cup his face, your thumbs brushing over the pink tint that lingered across his cheeks.

You ripped the package open, taking the rubber out and slipped it on. Lando nearly went insane leaning against the beds headboard once he felt your warm hand gently wrap around him, rolling the condom on with ease. It also sent a little spark of jealousy through him. The ease with which you did so, no matter the mischievous grin you gave him as you looked up through your lashes, reminded him that you knew what you were doing. That he was not the only man or woman to have you this close.

Before you could see it though, he took your hand his. Pulling until you were settle on top of him again.

You reached down, lining him up and sank down slowly.

The feeling was overwhelming, the sheer size of him nearly making you fall forward as you whimpered at the stretch. It was a noise of pleasure, one that Lando never wanted anyone else to hear again but him. He moaned low.

Finally feeling you on him, around him and with him as he had imagined for months now whenever he had gotten off by himself or met with some to take his mind off of you.

The little noise you made as he was fully sheeted inside you high and whiny and music to his ears.

Your thighs shook, your eyes met his and you began to roll your hips with his giant hands settled on your waist to help find a rhythm that escalated soon after into something frantic and fast.

“Fuck!” Lando growled out, the sound getting to your head and turning you on even more. “Feels so good my love.”

Letting your head tip forward against his shoulders, your hips stuttered. “L– Lan…”

“That’s right, just keep moving for me. Doing so good for me,”

The praise went straight to your head making you clench tight around him.

“oh, Ohh you like being good for me?” The question was rhetorically and not meant to be answered. Neither did he let you, rolling to the side and you under him to start building a rhythm of his own when he felt your growing tired on top of him.

Your breath got stuck in your throat, the pace he started drilling into you unmatched. His cock dragged deliciously against your wet walls, over your g-spot. It was so much you weren’t sure how you were going to survive this.

Orgasm building quick and still a bit to out of reach you whined helplessly. Lando seemed to notice your dilemma, being just as close as you were, reaching and rubbing your clit with pressure that had you come just from that.

Lando followed right behind, the fluttering of your walls triggering his own release.

Heavy breathing filled the room, hearts racing and only slowly calming down as your bodies stayed entangled for some time longer until he rolled off.

He slipped out, leaving you empty and spent to catch your breath while he pulled off the condom, trying not to make that big off a mess as he tied it up before crawling in beside you again.

Lando’s fingers traced absentminded patterns along your back as you rested against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. Every now and then he pressed a soft kiss into your hair.

You felt him smile against your hair, his arms tightening around you slightly. For a moment it was just the two of you, the world outside the apartment forgotten. No races, no pressure, no cameras, no expectations. Just Lando and you.

In 2026, you attended like you always did. Only this time it wad clad in Ferarri red, prancing horse emblem proudly sitting on your cap and running after a severely depressed Charles Leclerc after his season seemed to go just as fucked as Lando’s car was.

Your best friend had tried to hide his distaste, keyword being tried, but ultimately he frowned whenever he had to see you dressed in the other teams colors. Not accepting it even if it was simply in a professional setting and instead flicking your cap off your head to replace it with his own papaya one.

Charles had found it quite amusing, teasing the Champion mercilessly to the point you were scared for the Monegasque whenever Lando was behind him on the track.

And with Max and Pietra living close by, it was only a given that there was an obligatory hang out scheduled during that week.

Nothing could have ruined your mood that night, so you thought.

If only it wasn’t Magui opening the door for you as you arrived a bit later then Lando at the couples place.

Barely suppressing a noise stuck between horror and utter surprise you choked out a little, “hi!”, eyes blown wide before searching for help from Pietra who had appeared behind the actress.

“Y/n, it’ so nice to see you again!” the words were lied straight through her teeth, Magui not moving herself out of the door as if wanting to stop you from entering altogether.

Moving around the blond Portuguese, Pietra gently moved her out of the way to let you in. She wrapped her arms around you, having last seen you when in Monaco when she and Max had visited you and Lando for the weekend.

“I’m sorry y/n, we didn’t know Lando would bring her! Did you–?” she whispered into your ear as she swayed with you for a moment.

“Of course not! Last thing I knew was that they haven’t talked since that soccer game!” You hurried to whisper back, not wanting to appear as if you’d be talking about Magui when said woman was still standing right there, staring at you and P with a glint of annoyance in the blue of her eyes.

In your head you cursed Lando to hell and back, even hoping that stupid engine of his car was going to blow up on Sunday just to be spiteful.

The question why he apparently saw it fit to invite a woman he knew you couldn’t stand and most likely also knew, couldn’t stand you, was burning in you hotter then the sun ever could.

Last years conversation during the F1 75 Event suddenly was at the back of your mind, remembering how he had ensured you that it was nothing serious with them. Not in so many words but you did feel like that’s what he meant. And since you haven’t heard of the actress much since then, you had thought that had been the end of it.

Seemed like you were wrong.

“Hurry, its getting cold…” The other woman fake shivered, the temperature of 27°C making it impossible for her to be actually cold.

Rolling your eyes so hard they might as well have seen your brain for a second once Magui turned to get inside, rubbing at her arms and announcing loudly to everyone that you had “finally managed to make time in your busy schedule to grace them with your presence,” you fought the urge to fight her.

“How you can be friends with her, I truly wonder,”

The door fell shut.

Pietra looked a bit pained, knowing very well that her other friend did have the tendency to lay it on thick when it came to you and that since your first time meeting, there has been a certain tension that wasn’t exactly unjustified.

“She’s not so bad when it’s just us, I swear,”

Giving her a look Pietra knew you didn’t believe her.

Fair, she thought.

“Just don’t let her get to you, okay? She has to leave in about an hour either way,”

“I’ll try but no promises!” you answered with a pointed look.

However when you walked into the livibg room and saw Magui settled comfortable attached to Lando on the couch, a place that was by default reserved for you, you immediately regret to agreeing.

The McLaren driver looked comfortable, even indulgent into her little giggles that grated on your nerves even from afar just as Max appeared with a glass of your favorite wine in his hand.

He quickly wrapped his arms around you as best as he could, a short kiss pressed against your temple, “Just smile and pretend, sunshine. She’ll be gone soon.”

Pietra had sat down with the two lovebirds shamelessly flirting at the moment, though you thought Lando seemed a bit distracted when his eyes met yours over Max’s shoulder.

“Lets pray you got enough wine until then, Maxie.” You accepted the glass with a grateful hum, taking a larger than maybe reasonable sip right after he had let go and earning a snort from your other best friend.

The Brit stirred you towards the single seater across the balcony door, giving you a direct route of escape should your patience run out quicker then the said hour of her presence.

You settled into the throw pillows, hands clutching the wine as if it were you safety line in this situation. Maybe it kind of was…

“I heard of your movie release a while ago. Congratulations for that, Magui.” You smiled forced, hopping that small talk would make he stop clinging to your man lando so much just to be horribly disappointed as she grabbed Lando’s hand while she talked animatedly about her premiere.

Nearly dissociating during her monologue you kept nodding along, eyes pointedly avoiding the man beside your rival? Enemy? You didn’t know what to think of her really.

It wasn’t easy, your eyes flicking back to Lando every so often just to see his reaction to the girl next to him.

It made your stomach drop, to see him mostly focused on Magui, a fond smile plastered on his face even if it looked a bit forced. The little green eyed monster on your shoulder with his claws buried deep and whispering in your ears, not leavibg you alone for a second.

And when he turned to meet your sharp gaze, yu answered by lifting your glass in a mock toast, the corners of your mouth curling into the sweetest smile you could fake.

Max sighed into his beer while Pietra shot her boyfriend a knowing look that said this is going to end interesting.

You took another long sip of wine, hoping it would drown out the ugly knot twisting tighter in your chest, because jealousy had never been an emotion you had to handle often or well.

Magui laughed loudly at her own joke that you seemed to have missed and leaned her head against Lando’s shoulder as if she belonged there, making your grip on the stem of your glass tighten until your knuckles turned white.

Was this why Lando had told you that the almost kiss you shared shouldn’t have happened? Because he had already started seeing Magui again?

God you wanted to throw up at the thought of them together again.

Lando’s smile faltered for the briefest heartbeat when he caught the hurt that slipped through your carefully crafted expression, his fingers unconsciously loosening where Magui still held his hand.

You wanted to go home, maybe get a hug from your mom like you did when you were a child and never see them again.

Half of the conversation you completely tuned out. You didn’t hear Max talk about the Pop Up in London, or Pietra getting up to take Rio out for a walk, or that Max kept refilling your glass whenever it started to look a bit more empty until you were on 3rd glass within the hour until finally the Portuguese woman rose and finally let go of Lando.

Just to have him get up too to walk her out.

The room suddenly felt suffocating, everything fading into meaningless background noise as the realization settled heavily in your stomach that maybe you had misunderstood everything happening between the two of you recently.

“Are you okay?” Pietra dared to ask as she looked into the hallway to check if Lando was coming back. Max eyed you carefully, watching how you looked up sharply as if ripped out of your own world.

“Yeah!” you said almost to fast, voice a bit to high and loud. “Yes, of course why wouldn’t I be? I– I…”

They both saw the exact moment in which your eyes went glassy.

“…I need some air…”

Neither Pietra nor Max managed to get a word out before you were out the balcony door. Wine glass abandoned on the table now and neither able to fault you for needing a moment.

Max had known that the situation had turned messy long before today. Maybe it had always been messy, he wondered then and Pietra, having been on the receiving end of your rant calls for quite some time now, knew that it had only been a matter of time until something spilled over.

And even if that didn’t have front row seats to the disaster that was you and Lando, anyone else seeing you together knew that this wasn’t just friendship.

The balcony door slid shut behind you with a soft click, muffling what was going on inside until all you could hear was the distant hum of traffic, the chirping of a bird and the frantic pounding of your own heart as you gripped the railing hard enough for the sun heated metal to burn your fingers.

Inside, Lando’s laugh abruptly died the second he stepped back into the living room and found your seat empty, his eyes immediately searching the room before landing on the untouched wine glass you had left behind.

Max didn’t even bother hiding the disappointed look he sent his best friend, taking a long pull from his beer before muttering, “Congratulations, mate. You finally fucked it.”

Behind you, the sliding door opened again a bit later and you didn’t need to turn around to know it was him, the familiar weight of presence and the soft hesitation in the steps giving him away before he said a single word.

“Hey…” he started carefully, like he was approaching a skittish animal but the word alone made your throat tighten as you finally looked at him with glassy eyes you couldn’t fully hide.

“Why was she here?” you demanded to know with force, trying to will away the tears wanti g to spill out.

Lando stood still for a moment. He hadn’t expected this kind of reaction. Maybe anger for bringing Magui or maybe annoyance but this? This raw and utter defeat tangled with rage? That he hadn’t expected.

“She had a few days off and was at the Pop Up so I thought, why not catch up with everyone,” he said carefully just to receive a scoff.

“Catch up, hm? Sure looked a lot more comfortable then just catching up to me.”

Lando frowned at that.

“That’s not— it’s not like that love,” he started, then stopped himself knowing that you didn’t believe him either way.

The petname usually able to warm your heart now simply served to make you mad.

“Then pray tell me what it is like, hm? Why invite her after no contact for months?” you hissed back, tone scratching at his patience.

“Like I said, just catching up!”

“Question. Do you think I’m dumb? Or blind?” you asked with your arms now crossed and you chin tilted up with a kind of sass only you could bring to the table.

“No but I think you’ve twisted this thing between me and Magui—”

“So there is a thing now?”

Taking a step forward Lando inhaled slowly to not let it show how much it got to him being called out about this thing he was trying not to make one. “No, like I was trying to say youre twisting it into something its not!”

Your laugh came out pained as you shot back, “Right, because I just imagined her nearly crawling into your lap just now.”

“You said there was nothing between you! You, said that last year!” you spat, voice cracking under the weight of it.

„An I wasn’t lying y/n,“ Lando said quietly, his jaw tightening as he held your gaze.

Your breath hitched, anger and hurt tangling so tight in your chest that it felt like you couldn’t separate one from the other.

He took another careful step closer, lowering his voice, “I didn’t lie then and I’m not lying now— there is nothing between me and Magui, not like you’re thinking.”

What was meant to be reassuring was everything but that. You felt hot, not because of the weather but because of burning anger boiling your blood. “Then why was she fucking here?“

Lando took another step closer, his voice dropping as frustration finally cracked through the careful restraint he’d been holding onto.

„Why do you even care who I fuck, hm? You aren’t my girlfriend,“ he snapped, the words tasting wrong on his mouth as he said them.

„And she isn’t either, so why was she here?“ you forced out darkly followed by a silence that knocked the air out of your lungs. Your shoulders that had been tense before dropped significantly and your voice a bit breathless „She isn’t… right?“

Lando’s expression broke for a second, all the frustration draining out of him as he stepped closer and murmured, „Y/n, love…“.

He shook his head slowly, voice quieter now, insisting again that there was nothing between him and Magui.

Your throat tightened as you stared at him, barely breathing when you repeated, „Lando tell me she isn’t… please…“.

Lando standing in front of you now reached out but stopped just short of touching you, exhaling sharply before answering, „She isn’t anything like that, I swear— there’s no her and me.“

The words should have soothed you, but instead your eyes filled anyway as you stood there frozen.

„Why do you even care?“ he asked quietly, eyes shaking a bit at his own question.

„Because you can’t be her’s!“

The words echoed in Lando’s ears. Breath caught sharply at your words, his eyes fixed on you like he had just been hit harder than any crash he’d ever taken on track, and for once Lando looked completely lost.

„Then who’s am i, huh?“ he whispered into the closing gap between you.

Your words were stuck in your throat and you didn’t know what to say. The question was good. Who’s was he because it wasn’t you. It had never been you and even if you hated that he wasn’t, you still saw him as your’s.

„Say it, who’s am i?“ he said again, wanting to know what you were going to say. He couldn’t help but stare at your lips stuck between your teeth as you tried to come up with something to say.

„Lan—“ you breathed shakily.

„Say it.“ Forehead touching yours now he wasn’t asking anymore. He wanted an answer. “Come one, my love just say it…”

The air between you felt impossibly thin, like one wrong breath would snap whatever fragile line was holding you both together.

You swallowed hard, chin lifting in that stubborn, petulant way that had always undone him and forced out, „You’re mine!“

Lando went completely still, like the world had short-circuited, his hands finally closing the last inch between you as they came up to hold your face.

„Damn right i am.“

His lips found your own in a demanding kiss that knocked the air you had left in your lungs completely out again. It was far from gentle but just as satisfying as the last piece of a puzzle clicking into place after hours of searching for it.

Your fingers found the front of his shirt, tugging and pulling him in to prevent any distance forcing you apart again until you had to come up for air.

His mouth stayed only inches away from yours, thumbs brushing feather light over your cheeks and sending shivers down your spine.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, though neither of you dared to move away.

Instead, you shook your head quickly and that was all the permission he needed to lean in again.

In the living room Max and Pietra had tried not to listen into to fight happening outside. Due to the volume it was nearly impossible to do so however and even while talking about their upcoming week didn’t distract them enough to miss what was going on outside.

And then there was silence all of a sudden.

Scared that you and Lando had finally murdered each other now, Max whipped around just to have his jaw nearly drop. P quickly reached out to hold onto his arm, trying to steady herself and equally as shocked as her boyfriend.

The Monaco Grand Prix paddock was buzzing with its usual energy-team personnel rushing between motorhomes, journalists hunting for quotes, and drivers navigating the controlled chaos. Charles Leclerc was mid-conversation with his engineer when he heard it.

That laugh.

His head whipped around so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. Sure enough, there she was: Y/N Leclerc, his youngest sister, wearing a sundress that was perfectly appropriate yet somehow still made him want to throw a blanket over her, leaning against the McLaren hospitality area like she owned the place.

And she was talking to Lando Norris.

"-honestly think it's the way you handle the curves," Y/N was saying, her voice carrying just enough for Charles to catch it. "Very... smooth. Controlled. I appreciate a man who knows exactly what he's doing with his hands."

Lando's eyes widened slightly, a grin tugging at his lips. "I—are we still talking about driving?"

"Are we?" Y/N tilted her head, her smile absolutely wicked. "I was definitely talking about driving, Lando. What did you think I meant?"

Charles felt his eye twitch. That was his sister. Talking to his friend. About... he didn't even want to know.

"Y/N," he called out, his voice strained.

She turned, her expression brightening. "Charlie! I was just complimenting Lando on his performance. He's been doing so well this season, don't you think? Really... hard work paying off."

The way she said 'hard' should be illegal.

Lando coughed, clearly fighting back laughter. "Hey, mate. Your sister was just—"

"I heard what my sister was doing," Charles interrupted, his jaw tight. He switched to French, directing his words at Y/N. "What are you doing here?"

She responded in English, because of course she did. "Supporting my favorite driver, obviously."

"I'm your brother."

"I said what I said." She turned back to Lando, whose shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter. "Anyway, I should let you get back to... whatever it is you do to prepare. Stretching? I bet you're very flexible."

"Oh my God," Charles muttered.

"I do yoga sometimes," Lando offered, because apparently he had a death wish.

"Do you?" Y/N's eyes lit up. "I'd love to see your downward dog sometime."

"I'm leaving," Charles announced. "Y/N, you're coming with me."

"I'm twenty-three, Charles."

"I don't care if you're forty-three, you're not—" He gestured vaguely at Lando, who was now openly grinning. "This. You're not doing this."

"Doing what? Having a conversation?" Y/N's expression was pure innocence. "Lando doesn't mind. Do you, Lando?"

Lando looked between the two siblings, clearly weighing his options. Self-preservation lost to entertainment value. "I mean, it's a free paddock."

Charles pointed at him. "You. Stop encouraging her."

"I'm not encouraging anything! She's just-“

"Very friendly," Y/N finished. "It's called being personable, Charles. You should try it sometime." She patted her brother's cheek and walked away, calling over her shoulder, "See you around, Norris!"

Lando watched her go, then turned to Charles with barely contained amusement. "Your sister is-“

"Don't," Charles warned. "Whatever you're about to say, don't."

"I was going to say 'funny.'"

"That's not what she's trying to be."

"Oh, I know." Lando's grin was absolutely shit-eating. "Mate, you look like you're about to have an aneurysm."

"I might," Charles admitted. "She's going to be here all weekend."

"Is she?" Lando looked far too pleased about that information.

Charles pointed at him again. "Stay away from my sister."

"She approached me!"

"Then run away next time!"

—

The next morning, Lando was reviewing data in the McLaren garage when someone cleared their throat behind him. He turned to find Y/N holding two coffee cups, wearing jeans and a McLaren-orange crop top that he was absolutely certain she'd chosen specifically to torment her brother.

"Morning," she said brightly. "Brought you coffee. Flat white, right? I asked around."

"You asked around about my coffee order?"

"I'm thorough." She handed him the cup, her fingers brushing his deliberately. "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine?" It came out as a question. Lando glanced around the garage, noting several mechanics suddenly very interested in their work while clearly eavesdropping. "Did you need something?"

"Just wanted to wish you luck for practice. And tell you that I think you're going to do really well this weekend." She leaned against his workstation. "You've got great... stamina. For the long races, I mean. Very impressive endurance."

One of the mechanics dropped a wrench.

Lando bit his lip, trying not to laugh. "Thanks? That's... yeah, endurance is important in racing."

"In lots of things," Y/N agreed solemnly.

"Y/N!" Charles's voice carried across the garage like the wrath of God. He appeared moments later, looking like he'd aged five years overnight. "Why are you in the McLaren garage?"

"Bringing Lando coffee. Want some? Oh wait, you're Ferrari. Guess you're stuck with their coffee. Shame."

"Can I talk to you?" Charles didn't wait for an answer, taking her elbow. "Privately?"

"We're just talking, Charles."

"You're not just talking, you're-" He seemed to struggle for words. "You're doing that thing you do!"

"What thing?" Y/N's innocence was Oscar-worthy.

"The thing where you-" Charles glanced at Lando, then lowered his voice. "Can you please not flirt with my friends in their workplace?"

"I'm networking."

"That's not networking!"

"Fine, I'm shooting my shot. Is that better?"

Charles looked like he wanted to scream. "He's my friend!"

"So I have good taste. It runs in the family." She patted his chest. "Relax, Charlie. I'm just having fun. Besides, Lando doesn't seem to mind." She looked past Charles to where Lando was definitely listening while pretending not to. "Do you, Lando?"

Lando knew the correct answer. The safe answer. The answer that would preserve his friendship with Charles and prevent any awkwardness.

"I mean, the coffee's good," he said instead.

Charles turned to glare at him. "You're not helping."

"I'm just being honest!"

"Be less honest!" Charles turned back to Y/N. "You. Ferrari motorhome. Now."

"So demanding," Y/N sighed. "Fine. But for the record, I'm an adult and you can't actually tell me what to do." She wiggled her fingers at Lando. "Bye, Lando. Love watching you work."

After they left, one of the mechanics sidled up to Lando. "Mate, Charles is going to murder you."

"Probably," Lando agreed, taking a sip of the coffee. "But did you see his face? Totally worth it."

—

In the Ferrari motorhome, Charles was pacing while Y/N sat on the couch, examining her nails.

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Charles demanded.

"I'm trying to get laid, actually, but sure, let's make it about you."

"Y/N!"

"What?" She looked up at him. "You're acting like I'm doing something crazy. I think Lando's hot. I'm making my interest known. This is normal human behavior."

"Not in the paddock! Not with my friends! Not-" He gestured frantically. "Not like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like you're... you're..." Charles struggled. "You told him you wanted to see his downward dog!"

"I do. I bet he's very bendy."

Charles made a noise like a dying animal. "Please. Please, Y/N. Have mercy on me."

"Charlie." She stood up, her expression softening slightly. "I love you. You're my big brother and you're amazing. But you don't get to police who I'm attracted to or how I express that attraction."

"I'm not trying to police you, I'm trying to save myself from having to hear my baby sister talk about-" He shuddered. "I can't even say it."

"Sex?" Y/N supplied helpfully.

"Stop!"

"Charles, I'm going to say this once: I like Lando. He's funny, he's cute, and he seems into it. I'm going to continue shooting my shot. You can either accept that or spend the whole weekend stressed." She headed for the door, then paused. "Also, for what it's worth? He has really nice hands. Like, really nice. I bet he's great at—"

"GET OUT!"

Y/N's laughter echoed down the hallway.

—

That night, Lando was heading back to his hotel room after dinner when he heard his name. He turned to find Y/N leaning against the wall near his door, wearing a little black dress that made his brain short-circuit slightly.

"Do you just... lurk in hallways?" he asked.

"Only when I'm hunting," she said with a grin. "Good dinner?"

"It was fine. How did you know which room was mine?"

"I have my ways." She pushed off the wall, moving closer. "Want to know a secret?"

"I feel like I shouldn't say yes to that."

"Charles's room is two doors down."

Lando's eyes widened. "Why would you tell me that?"

"Because I think it's funny how nervous it makes you." She was close enough now that he could smell her perfume. "You're not actually scared of my brother, are you?"

"Terrified," Lando admitted. "He's very intense when he wants to be."

"So am I." Her voice dropped lower. "When I want something."

"Y/N..." Lando's voice came out rougher than intended. "What are you doing?"

"Right now? Trying to figure out if you're interested or just being polite because I'm Charles's sister."

"Can't it be both?"

She laughed, the sound genuine and warm. "I like you, Lando. You're funny. You don't take yourself too seriously. And you've got this whole thing-" She gestured vaguely at him. "—that really works for me."

"What thing?"

"The slightly chaotic, definitely charming, probably-trouble-but-in-a-fun-way thing."

"That's a lot of hyphens."

"You're deflecting."

"I'm processing," Lando corrected. "Your brother is two doors down, you're standing here looking like that, and I'm trying to figure out if this is a test."

"It's not a test. It's an invitation."

"To?"

"Whatever you want it to be." She stepped back, giving him space. "But no pressure. I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted you to know that I'm genuinely interested. Not just messing around to annoy Charles, though that's a fun bonus."

Lando studied her for a moment. She was beautiful, obviously, but there was something else-a confidence, a directness that he found incredibly attractive. "You're serious."

"Completely."

"And you don't care that Charles might actually kill me?"

"He won't. He'll threaten to, but he won't." She smiled. "Besides, I'm very good at protecting what's mine."

"I'm yours now?"

"Not yet. But I'm patient." She started walking backward down the hall. "Sleep well, Norris. Dream of me."

"You're ridiculous," he called after her.

"You're smiling!"

He was. He really, really was.

—

The team dinner the following night was supposed to be a nice, civilized affair. Key word: supposed.

Lando arrived to find Y/N already seated, strategically positioned between an empty chair (which he suspected was meant for him) and across from Charles and her other brother—Arthur, who looked equally uncomfortable.

"Lando!" Y/N brightened. "Saved you a seat."

Charles's fork clattered against his plate.

"Thanks," Lando said, because what else could he do? He sat down, very aware of Charles's death stare from across the table.

"So," Y/N said conversationally as she reached for her wine, "Lando, I was thinking about what you said earlier about racing lines."

He hadn't said anything about racing lines.

"About how important it is to find the right entry point?" she continued innocently.

Arthur choked on his water.

"And how you have to be patient, wait for the right moment, and then commit fully once you're sure?"

"Y/N," Charles said warningly.

"What? I'm talking about racing." She turned to Lando. "Isn't that what you said?"

Lando was trying so hard not to laugh. "I... might have said something like that."

"I thought so. It's good advice. Applicable to lots of situations." She took a sip of wine. "Like overtaking, for example. You have to be confident, decisive. Really go for the gap."

"Oh my God," Arthur muttered.

"And the way you handle pressure," Y/N continued, her expression perfectly innocent. "Very impressive. You stay so calm even when things get intense. That's a valuable skill."

Charles was gripping his fork like a weapon.

"Some people fall apart under pressure," she mused. "But you? You seem like you'd be very... composed. Very focused. Even in high-stress situations."

"Y/N, I swear to God-" Charles started.

"What? I'm complimenting his driving!" She looked around the table. "Why is everyone being weird?"

"You know exactly why," Arthur said.

"Do I?" She turned back to Lando, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Lando, do you feel uncomfortable?"

He should say yes. He should absolutely say yes.

"I feel like I'm in danger," he said instead, "but not uncomfortable."

Y/N's smile was radiant. "See? He's fine."

"I'm not fine," Charles interjected. "None of this is fine."

"Charlie, you need to relax. You're going to give yourself an ulcer." Y/N reached for the bread basket. "Besides, I'm just making conversation. If your mind is going somewhere inappropriate, that's on you."

"My mind isn't-you're deliberately-" Charles looked at Arthur for support.

Arthur held up his hands. "I'm staying out of this."

"Coward," Charles muttered.

The dinner continued in much the same fashion, with Y/N making increasingly suggestive comments disguised as innocent observations, Charles slowly dying inside, Arthur pretending to be invisible, and Lando caught between amusement and genuine fear for his life.

By the time dessert arrived, Charles looked like he'd aged another five years.

"You know what I appreciate about you, Lando?" Y/N said, scraping the last of her tiramisu from the plate.

"I'm almost afraid to ask," Lando admitted.

"You've got a great sense of humor. You don't take things too seriously. Life's too short to be uptight all the time." She glanced meaningfully at Charles. "Some people could learn from that."

"Some people don't have to watch their baby sister openly flirt with their friends," Charles shot back.

"I'm not a baby, I'm twenty-three."

"You're still my baby sister!"

"That's a you problem, not a me problem."

Arthur stood up abruptly. "I'm going to the bathroom. For a long time. Maybe forever."

After he left, Y/N leaned closer to Lando. "Want to get out of here? There's a club nearby. Much better atmosphere than... this." She gestured at Charles's miserable face.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Lando said, even as he was already mentally saying yes.

"It's a great idea. Charles can come too if he wants to chaperone."

"I'm not chaperoning anything," Charles said firmly. "I'm going back to the hotel to drink and forget this dinner happened."

"Your loss." Y/N stood, smoothing down her dress. "Lando?"

He looked at Charles, who was shaking his head frantically. Then he looked at Y/N, who was smiling like she'd already won.

"One drink," Lando said, standing up.

Charles dropped his head into his hands. "I need new friends."

—

The club was packed, the music loud enough to feel in your chest. Y/N had dragged Lando straight to the VIP section, where several other drivers and their friends were already celebrating the weekend.

"Want a drink?" she asked, leaning close to be heard over the music.

"I'll get them," Lando offered.

"Such a gentleman." She touched his arm. "Vodka soda, please."

When he returned with their drinks, she'd claimed a small section of the couch. He sat next to her, very aware of how close they were.

"So," she said, taking a sip of her drink, "are we going to keep dancing around this, or are you going to admit you're interested?"

"Pretty sure of yourself."

"I am. But I'm also right." She angled toward him. "You've been flirting back all weekend."

"I've been trying not to die."

"You can do both." She set her drink down. "Dance with me."

"That's not a question."

"No, it's not."

On the dance floor, with the music pounding and the lights flashing, things felt different. Less performative. More real.

"Can I ask you something?" Lando said, his hands on her waist.

"Anything."

"Is this really just to mess with Charles, or...?"

Y/N's expression softened. "You think I'd put this much effort in just to annoy my brother? I mean, it's a fantastic bonus, don't get me wrong. But no." She looped her arms around his neck. "I think you're genuinely great. You're funny, you're talented, you don't take yourself too seriously. And you're hot, which doesn't hurt."

"Very romantic."

"I'm not trying to be romantic. I'm trying to be honest." She bit her lip. "I like you, Lando. For real. Not as a joke, not as a game. I like you."

Something in Lando's chest loosened. "I like you too. Even though you're absolutely insane."

"Especially because I'm insane," she corrected.

"That too." He pulled her closer. "Your brother really is going to kill me."

"Probably. But what a way to go."

"You're terrible."

"You like it."

"I really do."

She kissed him then, and it was nothing like the careful, tentative first kisses he'd had before. This was confident, sure, a little bit reckless-exactly like her.

When they broke apart, she was grinning. "So, was it worth the risk?"

"Ask me after I survive the week."

"Y/N MARIE LECLERC!"

They both turned to find Charles and Arthur standing at the edge of the dance floor, looking like avenging angels.

"Oh shit," Lando muttered.

"Relax." Y/N didn't even look concerned. "Charlie! Arthur! Want to dance?"

"We want to talk," Charles said, his voice tight. "Now."

They moved to a quieter corner, though 'quiet' was relative. Charles looked like he was vibrating with the effort of staying calm.

"Are you serious right now?" he demanded, looking between them.

"Very," Y/N said simply.

"You—" Charles pointed at Lando. "You kissed my sister."

"Technically, she kissed me."

"NOT HELPING!"

"Charles." Y/N stepped forward. "I'm an adult. Lando's an adult. We like each other. You don't get a vote."

"He's my friend!"

"And I'm your sister. So either you accept this, or you spend the next however-long being miserable while we date anyway." She crossed her arms. "Your choice."

Charles looked at Arthur, who shrugged. "She's got a point."

"You're supposed to be on my side!"

"I am on your side. I'm also a realist." Arthur clapped Charles on the shoulder. "She's going to do what she wants. She always does."

Charles turned back to them, his expression pained. "I can't believe this is happening."

"Believe it," Y/N said cheerfully. "Oh, and Charlie? You might want to invest in noise-canceling headphones. Hotel walls are thin."

"Y/N!" Charles looked genuinely horrified.

"I'm kidding! Mostly." She grabbed Lando's hand. "Come on, let's get another drink."

As they walked away, Lando heard Arthur say, "At least she's happy?"

And Charles's response: "I hate everything."

Lando looked down at Y/N, who was grinning like she'd won the lottery. "You're going to be the death of me."

"Yeah," she agreed happily. "But you're going to have fun dying."

And honestly? He couldn't argue with that.

ᴘᴀᴛʀᴇᴏɴ: ᴇᴀʀʟʏ ᴀᴄᴄᴇꜱꜱ, ᴇxᴛᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴇꜱ, ᴇxᴄʟᴜꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ: ʀᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ꜰʀᴏᴍ ꜱᴏᴄɪᴀʟ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ᴀᴜ’ꜱ ᴛᴏ ꜰᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇꜱꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴀᴜ’ꜱ - ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘʀɪᴏʀɪᴛʏ ʀᴇϙᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ

ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ - ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʟʟᴏᴡ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ.

The silence in the villa was a living, breathing thing. It was thick and heavy, a suffocating blanket that muffled the sound of her own heartbeat, a frantic, panicked drum against her ribs. Y/N lay on the bed, fully dressed, staring at the ceiling as if it held the answers to all the questions she was too afraid to ask. She had made her decision. She was leaving. It was the only way. The only way to save herself from the beautiful, destructive fire that was Lando Norris.

She had cried until she was empty, a hollowed-out shell of a person. The tears had been a catharsis, a final, painful purge of the hope she had allowed herself to feel, however briefly. Now, there was nothing left but a cold, hard resolve. A promise she had made to herself in the dark, a promise she intended to keep, no matter how much it shattered her soul to do so.

With a sigh that felt like it was dredged up from the very depths of her being, she pushed herself up off the bed. The floor was cold beneath her bare feet as she walked over to the closet, her movements stiff and robotic. She pulled out her suitcase, the one she had packed with such methodical detachment just hours ago, and placed it on the bed. She had been so sure, so decisive. But now, as she stood there, a nagging, persistent thought wormed its way into her mind.

Her charger. Her phone charger. She had forgotten her phone charger.

It was such a small, insignificant thing, a mundane detail in the grand, tragic opera of their lives. But it was enough to break the spell of her grim determination. She couldn't leave without it. She couldn't go home to a dead phone, a silent, useless brick that would sever her last tenuous connection to the world, to her new life, the life she was trying so desperately to build.

With a frustrated groan, she unzipped the suitcase, the sound loud and jarring in the quiet room. She rummaged through her neatly folded clothes, her fingers searching for the familiar, tangled cords, but they weren't there. Of course they weren't there. She remembered now. She had left it plugged into the outlet by the downstairs sofa, charging her phone while she had been trying, and failing, to watch a movie yesterday, before everything had gone to hell.

She zipped the suitcase back up, her movements sharp and angry. She was being tested. The universe was playing a cruel, twisted game with her, throwing this tiny, insignificant obstacle in her path, trying to see if she would break. Well, she wouldn't. She would go downstairs, get her charger, and come back up, and that would be it. The final act. The last scene. She would not be deterred.

She opened her bedroom door, her senses on high alert, listening for any sign of movement, any sound that would indicate he was awake. But the hallway was silent, the house still and sleeping. She tiptoed down the stairs, her heart in her throat, each creak of the floorboards sounding like a gunshot in the quiet. She found her charger tangled in the cord of the floor lamp, just as she had remembered. She snatched it up, her fingers closing around the plastic with a triumphant little squeeze, and turned to head back to the safety of her room.

But as she reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard it. A soft, hesitant knock on her bedroom door. A knock that was unmistakably his.

Her blood ran cold. He was awake. He was at her door. And she was trapped downstairs, a fugitive in her own life.

She stood there, frozen in the shadows of the hallway, her hand clutching her charger, her mind racing. What should she do? Should she answer him? Should she call out, tell him she was downstairs? No. That would only prolong the inevitable, only give him another opportunity to chip away at her defenses. Her only hope was to wait for him to give up, to go back to his own room, and then she could sneak back up, grab her suitcase, and disappear into the night.

She held her breath, listening, her entire being focused on the sound coming from upstairs. She heard the knock again, a little louder this time, a little more insistent. "Y/N?" he called out, his voice a low, hesitant murmur. "You awake?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, her heart aching at the sound of his voice, so raw and uncertain. She didn't answer. She couldn't.

She heard another soft knock, and then a long, agonizing pause. She waited, her body coiled with tension, praying for the sound of his retreating footsteps. But they didn't come. Instead, she heard the soft click of her doorknob turning.

He was coming in.

Panic, pure and unadulterated, surged through her. He was going to see it. He was going to see the suitcase, sitting there on her bed, a silent, damning testament to her intentions. He was going to know she was leaving, that she was running away from him again.

She wanted to run, to storm up the stairs and stop him, to throw herself in his path and beg him not to open that door. But her feet were rooted to the spot, her body paralyzed by a sick, creeping dread. It was too late. The damage was done.

She waited, her heart pounding a frantic, desperate rhythm against her ribs, for the sound of his discovery. She didn't have to wait long. She heard a sharp, indrawn breath, a soft, choked sound of pain and disbelief, and then a heavy, defeated silence.

He knew.

She took a deep, shaky breath, steeling herself for the confrontation. There was no escaping it now. She had to face him. She had to face the wreckage she had made.

She slowly climbed the stairs, each step a monumental effort, her legs feeling like they were made of lead. When she reached her doorway, she saw him. He was sitting on her bed, right beside the open suitcase, his shoulders slumped, his head bowed. He looked utterly, completely broken.

He looked up when he heard her approach, and the look in his eyes made her stomach clench. It wasn't anger. It wasn't even accusation. It was a deep, profound, soul-crushing sadness, a look of a man who had just been handed his death sentence. He had seen the suitcase, and he had understood. He knew she was going to run away from him again.

She opened her mouth to say something, anything, to break the suffocating silence, but he beat her to it. His voice was a low, bitter rasp, a sound that was laced with a pain so raw it was almost physical.

"Running from me, love?"

The question hung in the air between them, a stark, brutal accusation. There was no use in lying, no point in trying to deny the obvious. The evidence was right there, packed and ready to go. She let out a long, weary sigh, the sound filled with a resignation that was heavier than any words. She nodded, a slow, jerky movement that felt like it was tearing something inside her.

She had expected him to explode. She had expected him to yell, to rage, to call her a coward, a bitch, a heartless monster. She had braced herself for the storm, for the full force of his anger and his hurt.

But he didn't. He just stared at her, his expression a mask of stunned disbelief. He hadn't expected her to admit it. He had been prepared for a fight, for a denial, for a litany of excuses. But her quiet, honest confession had disarmed him completely. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say.

He stood up slowly, his movements stiff and uncertain, and took a step towards her. He reached out, his hand hovering in the space between them, a silent, pleading offer of comfort, of connection.

But she pulled away. She couldn't help it. His touch was a lit match, and she was a stick of dynamite, ready to explode. She couldn't let him touch her, couldn't let him near her, or she would crumble. She would fall apart, and she would never be able to put herself back together again.

"What we've been doing is wrong, Lando," she said, her voice a shaky, desperate whisper. She had to say it. She had to make him understand. "It's all wrong. There was a reason for our divorce, a good reason, and... and I can't do this. I can't see you anymore. I'm going home."

Her words were a knife, twisting in his gut. He flinched, his face crumbling, the hope in his eyes extinguishing, replaced by a raw, agonizing pain. But then, something shifted. A flicker of defiance, a spark of the old, stubborn fire she knew so well, returned to his gaze.

"Did it feel wrong?" he asked, his voice a low, intense challenge. "When you were in my arms, when I was inside you, did it feel wrong then?"

She couldn't answer. She couldn't lie, not to his face, not when he was looking at her with those eyes, those beautiful, broken eyes that saw right through her. She looked away, her gaze fixed on a spot on the floor, a silent, damning admission.

"It didn't feel wrong for me," he continued, his voice growing stronger, more passionate. He took another step closer, his body crowding hers, his presence a powerful, overwhelming force. "It didn't feel wrong at all. "It felt like the most right thing in the world. It felt like coming home."

His voice was a low, intense murmur, each word a deliberate, piercing stab at the flimsy armor she had constructed around her heart. He was so close now she could feel the warmth radiating from his body, could see the tiny flecks of gold in his green eyes, could smell the faint, lingering scent of his cologne mixed with the clean, sleepy smell of his skin. He was a force of nature, a hurricane of emotion, and she was a flimsy shack in his path, about to be blown to pieces.

"So I'll ask you again," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that vibrated right through her. "Did it feel wrong for you?"

She couldn't speak. Her throat was tight, a knot of unshed tears and unspoken truths. She shook her head, a tiny, almost imperceptible movement, but it was enough. It was a confession. A surrender.

"I don't love you anymore."

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, a desperate, last-ditch attempt to salvage the wreckage of her resolve. They were brittle, hollow things, and they shattered in the air between them. She couldn't look at him. She stared at the floor, at the worn woodgrain, at anything but the devastating, beautiful man standing in front of her. She knew, with a certainty that made her feel sick, that he wouldn't believe her. He knew her too well. He knew the tells, the little tells she had never been able to hide.

And she was right.

"That's all I needed to know."

His voice was soft, a strange, almost gentle sound that was more terrifying than any shout. It was the sound of a man who had just been handed the key to his victory. She expected him to gloat, to push, to demand she admit her lie. She expected him to do something, anything.

But he didn't. He just stood there, and the silence stretched, thick and heavy with unspoken words. And then, he moved. He closed the remaining distance between them in a single, fluid motion. He reached out, his fingers gently tilting her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes were no longer filled with pain or anger. They were filled with a deep, unwavering tenderness, a look of such profound love and understanding that it made her heart ache with a pain so sharp it took her breath away.

He leaned in, his lips hovering just above hers, a breath away from a kiss. It was a question, a plea, a final, silent test. And she was about to fail. She could feel her resolve crumbling, her walls turning to dust. She was going to let him kiss her. She was going to let him win.

"No," she breathed, her voice a shaky, desperate whisper. She brought her hands up, pushing gently against his chest, a feeble, last-minute attempt to stop the inevitable. "Lando, what are you doing?"

He stopped, his lips a mere fraction of an inch from hers. He didn't pull away. He just looked at her, his eyes searching hers, a small, sad smile playing on his lips. "You can't fool me, Y/N," he murmured, his voice a low, intimate rumble. "You didn't look me in the eyes. You never could lie to me when you looked me in the eyes."

Her heart clenched, a painful, convulsive squeeze. He was right. Damn him, he was always right. She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat feeling like a piece of jagged glass. She was trying so hard to maintain her emotional distance, to build a wall between them, but he was already on the other side, dismantling it brick by brick with nothing but the truth.

He let out a soft, weary sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly, the mask of confidence falling away to reveal the raw, vulnerable man beneath. "I never stopped loving you," he said, his voice a choked, broken whisper. "Not for one single day. I never stopped thinking about you. You're the first thing I think about when I wake up, and the last thing I think about before I go to sleep. Every single day, for two years. It's been... it's been hell."

He took a shaky breath, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, and her heart broke all over again. "And for what it's worth," he continued, his voice dropping to an even lower, more intimate tone, "I've never touched anyone else. The thought... the thought of being with someone else, it disgusted me. It felt like a betrayal. A betrayal of you, of us. I'd lie awake at night, sometimes, after... after I'd touched myself, thinking about you, and I'd just... I'd wonder. I'd lie there and wonder if you were sleeping with other men, if you were letting them touch you, if you were happy. And the thought would just... it would destroy me. It would rip me apart."

His words were a confession, a raw, unfiltered glimpse into the private hell he had been living in. It was the most vulnerable thing he had ever said to her, the most honest, the most real. And it was her undoing. The carefully constructed wall she had built around her heart crumbled into dust, blown away by the sheer, overwhelming force of his love, his pain, his devotion.

She tried to hold on, tried to cling to the last vestiges of her resolve, but it was useless. She was drowning in him, in the truth of his words, in the depth of his feeling. She had to push him away. She had to.

"I could never love a man like you," she said, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. "Not again."

It was the wrong thing to say. It was the very worst thing she could have said.

Something in him snapped. The vulnerability in his eyes vanished, replaced by a flash of raw, primal fury. The gentle, loving man was gone, and in his place was a cornered, wounded animal, lashing out with all the pain and frustration of the last two years.

"Stop lying!" he yelled, his voice a loud, desperate roar that made her flinch. "Just stop fucking lying! You look me in the eye and you tell me you don't love me! You look me in the eye and you tell me that last night meant nothing! That this morning meant nothing! You can't do it, can you? Because you're a coward! You're a fucking coward, and you're running away because you're scared! You're scared of how much you love me, and you're scared of how much I love you!"

And then, he crashed his lips against hers.

It wasn't a kiss. It was an attack. It was a punishment. It was a desperate, frantic attempt to force the truth out of her, to make her feel what he was feeling, to make her admit the lie she had been telling herself for two years. His lips were hard and demanding, his tongue a forceful invasion, and she fought him for a second, her hands pushing against his chest, her mind screaming at her to stop, to push him away, to run.

But then, her body betrayed her. Her treacherous, traitorous body remembered. It remembered the taste of him, the feel of him, the way he could make her come alive with just a touch. Her hands stopped pushing and started clutching, her fingers digging into the hard muscles of his chest, pulling him closer. Her lips, which had been sealed in a tight line of resistance, parted under his, a soft, helpless sigh escaping her throat. She kissed him back. It was a frantic, desperate, messy kiss, a clash of teeth and tongues, a kiss that was two years of pent-up frustration, longing, and love, all exploding at once.

He felt her surrender, felt the way her body melted against his, and a low, guttural groan rumbled in his chest. He broke the kiss, his lips trailing a path of fire down her neck, his teeth nipping at her sensitive skin, marking her, claiming her. His hands were everywhere, tearing at her clothes, at the flimsy barrier of her dress. He found the hem and pulled it over her head in one rough, desperate motion, the fabric ripping slightly in his haste. He unhooked her bra, his fingers fumbling, clumsy with need, and then that was gone too, her breasts spilling into his waiting hands.

He took off his own shirt, breaking their kiss for only a second to pull it over his head, revealing the broad, sculpted planes of his chest, the muscles she knew so well, the muscles she had missed with an ache that was physical. Then his belt, and his pants, the sound of his zipper a loud, metallic rasp in the quiet room, leaving him in just his boxers, the thin fabric doing little to hide the thick, hard length of his arousal.

He dropped to his knees in front of her, his movements fluid, graceful, a predator worshipping at the altar of his prey. He looked up at her, his eyes dark and intense, burning with a raw, primal hunger that made her knees weak. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties, but then he stopped. A slow, wicked smile spread across his face. He leaned in, his teeth closing gently over the fabric, and he dragged them down her legs, his lips and tongue tracing a path of fire on her skin as he went. It was the most erotic, most intimate, most possessive thing she had ever experienced, and a fresh wave of slick heat flooded her core. She was trembling, her entire body vibrating with a nervous, anticipatory energy that was part fear, part overwhelming desire.

When the panties were gone, discarded on the floor like a forgotten memory, he looked up at her, his eyes roving over her naked body with an expression of such raw, unadulterated reverence it made her feel like a goddess. He leaned in, pressing a soft, worshipful kiss to her hip bone, then another to the soft curve of her belly. His hands came up to grip her thighs, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin there, his touch both possessive and gentle.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice a low, reverent hum against her skin. "So fucking beautiful. I've dreamed about this. I've dreamed about you, just like this."

And then he lowered his head, his mouth finding the most sensitive part of her, and she cried out, a sharp, broken sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. His tongue was a master, a skilled artist, and he painted her with long, slow, deliberate strokes, learning her all over again, re-memorizing every curve, every fold, every sensitive spot that made her gasp and writhe. He was relentless, a man starved, and she was his feast. He built her up, higher and higher, a coil of tension tightening in her belly, a wave of pleasure cresting inside her, threatening to break.

Her hands flew to his hair, her fingers tangling in the soft, thick strands, holding him to her, her hips arching against his mouth, a silent, desperate plea for more. He gave her more. He slipped a finger inside her, then another, his mouth never ceasing its delicious assault, and the dual sensation was too much. The coil snapped, the wave broke, and she shattered, a cry of his name tearing from her throat as her orgasm washed over her, a powerful, all-consuming tide of ecstasy that left her breathless. The orgasm that Lando had wrenched from her with his mouth was a tidal wave, a force of nature that had ripped through her body, leaving her a boneless, trembling mess in his arms. She was gasping for air, her lungs burning, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Her limbs felt like jelly, her mind a blissful, white-washed blank. All she could do was feel, and what she felt was him.

He didn't stop immediately. He stayed with her, his tongue gently lapping at her, his fingers still buried deep inside her, drawing out the last, shuddering waves of her pleasure. It was almost too much, a delicious, overstimulating agony that made her whimper and try to squirm away, but his grip on her thighs was firm, a silent command to stay, to take it, to let him have this. And she did. She let him have everything.

When the tremors finally subsided, leaving her limp and spent, he slowly, gently withdrew his fingers. He pressed one last, worshipful kiss to her swollen, sensitive clit, a soft, possessive brand that made her whole body twitch. He looked up at her, his face glistening with her arousal, his eyes dark and hooded with a raw, primal satisfaction that was both infuriating and incredibly arousing. A slow, wicked smirk played on his lips, the smirk of a man who had just won a war.

"You're so fucking beautiful when you come," he murmured, his voice a low, husky rumble that vibrated right through her. "I forgot how beautiful you are."

She couldn't speak. She could only watch him, her eyes wide and dazed, as he rose to his feet in one fluid, powerful motion. He was a predator, all lean muscle and coiled energy, and she was his willing, sated prey. He stood over her, his chest heaving, his green eyes burning with an intensity that made her breath catch. He looked down at her, at her naked, sprawled form on his bed, and the look in his eyes was so possessive, so full of raw, undisguised hunger, that a fresh wave of heat pooled in her belly.

He reached down, his fingers hooking under her arms, and he hauled her up into a sitting position. His movements were rough, impatient, a stark contrast to the gentle, worshipful way he had just brought her to orgasm. This was a different side of him, a harder, more demanding side, and it sent a thrill of fear and excitement skittering down her spine.

"Stand up," he commanded, his voice low and firm, leaving no room for argument.

Her legs were still shaky, her muscles weak and pliant from the force of her release, but she obeyed, pushing herself up off the bed. She swayed slightly, her knees feeling like they might give out, but he was there, his hands on her waist, steadying her, holding her upright. His touch was electric, a jolt of pure energy that shot through her, awakening every nerve ending.

He looked at her for a long, intense moment, his eyes roaming over her face, her neck, her breasts, as if he were trying to memorize her all over again. He was so close she could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, could smell the faint, lingering scent of his cologne mixed with the clean, musky smell of sex. He was a force of nature, a hurricane of emotion, and she was a flimsy shack in his path, about to be blown to pieces.

And then, his gaze dropped, and he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers. He didn't take them off slowly. He didn't tease. He just shoved them down, his movements quick and impatient, and they pooled around his ankles. He kicked them away, and her breath hitched in her throat.

He was magnificent. He was hard and thick and ready for her, his arousal standing tall against his stomach, a testament to his desire for her. He was bigger than she remembered, more imposing, and a fresh wave of slick heat flooded her core. She wanted him. God, she wanted him so much it hurt.

He took a step closer, closing the distance between them until they were skin to skin, his chest pressed against hers, his arousal nudging her belly. He was so hot, so hard, so real. He wrapped his arms around her waist, his hands splayed across her back, pulling her flush against him. She could feel his heart beating against hers, a frantic, powerful rhythm that echoed her own.

"You have no idea," he murmured, his voice a low, guttural growl against her ear. "You have no fucking idea what you do to me."

And then, he moved. In one swift, fluid motion, he hooked his hands under her thighs, lifting her up as if she weighed nothing. She cried out, a startled, breathless sound, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, her arms circling his neck for support. He held her easily, his muscles flexing under her touch, and then he turned, pinning her against the wall.

The cold, hard plaster against her back was a shocking, delicious contrast to the heat of his body. He had her trapped, caged, completely at his mercy. He was in control, and the feeling was intoxicating, a heady mix of fear and arousal that made her head spin. He looked at her, his eyes dark and intense, burning with a raw, primal hunger that made her toes curl.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice a low, husky whisper. "Look at me when I'm inside you."

And then he entered her.

He didn't ease into her. He didn't give her time to adjust. He slammed into her, one hard, deep, punishing thrust that stole her breath and made her see stars. He was so deep, so thick, stretching her, filling her in a way that was both painful and incredibly pleasurable. It was a claiming, a possession, a raw, primal act of dominance that made her whole body hum with a desperate, needy energy.

He didn't wait for her to get used to him. He started to move, his hips pistoning, his strokes hard and fast and rough. He was fucking her, really fucking her, against the wall, and it was the most erotic, most intense, most mind-blowing thing she had ever experienced. The sounds of their bodies slapping together, the ragged sound of their breathing, the low, guttural grunts that were escaping his lips, it all combined to create a symphony of pure, unadulterated lust.

He buried his face in her neck, his lips and teeth and tongue a frantic, desperate assault on her sensitive skin. He was marking her, branding her, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. He kissed her, his lips crashing down on hers, a rough, demanding kiss that was all teeth and tongue and desperation. It was a punishing kiss, a kiss that was meant to hurt, to punish, to claim.

"You're so stupid," he grunted, his voice a low, guttural growl against her ear. "So fucking stupid to think you could fool me. To think you could push me away."

He punctuated his words with a particularly hard thrust that made her cry out, a sharp, broken sound of pain and pleasure.

"Did you really think I wouldn't know?" he continued, his voice a low, menacing rumble. "Did you really think I wouldn't feel it? That I wouldn't know the second I touched you that you still love me?"

His words were a weapon, a sharp, piercing blade that he was using to dissect her, to lay her soul bare. He was tearing down her walls, brick by brick, with every thrust, every word, every punishing kiss. And she was letting him. She was letting him destroy her, because in the destruction, she was finding a new kind of freedom.

"I've been waiting for this," he grunted, his hips slamming into hers, the force of his thrusts making the wall shake. "I've been waiting for two years for you to stop lying. For you to admit that you're mine."

His hand snaked between their bodies, his fingers finding her clit, and she cried out, a sharp, desperate gasp. He started to circle her, his touch firm and demanding, a perfect, rhythmic pressure that sent jolts of pure electricity shooting through her. It was too much. It was too intense. The feeling of him inside her, the feeling of his fingers on her clit, the sound of his voice in her ear, it was all too much.

"I can feel you," he growled, his voice a low, triumphant rumble. "I can feel how close you are. Come for me, baby. Come all over my cock like a good girl."

His words were her undoing. The coil in her belly tightened, the wave of pleasure crested, and she shattered, a scream of his name tearing from her throat as her orgasm crashed over her, a powerful, all-consuming tide of ecstasy that left her breathless and trembling. It was a violent, explosive release, a catharsis of two years of pent-up frustration and longing, and it ripped through her with the force of a hurricane.

He felt her come, felt her inner walls clenching around him, pulling him deeper, holding him tight, and it was his undoing. With a loud, primal roar that was ripped from the very depths of his soul, he followed her over the edge. His hips slammed into hers one last time, a punishing, possessive thrust that pinned her to the wall as he spilled himself inside her, a hot, powerful flood that seemed to go on forever. His body shuddered against hers, a series of violent, convulsive tremors as he emptied himself into her, a final, undeniable claim. It was a raw, primal act of possession, a brand, a promise, and she took it all, her body still convulsing with the aftershocks of her own orgasm.

For a long, breathless moment, they just stayed like that, a tangled, sweaty, panting mess, pinned against the wall. The only sounds in the room were their ragged, gasping breaths, the frantic hammering of their hearts, and the faint, distant hum of the city outside. His forehead was pressed against hers, his body a heavy, grounding weight, his breathing hot and ragged against her neck. She could feel the frantic, fluttering beat of his heart against her own, a chaotic, desperate rhythm that was slowly, gradually beginning to calm.

She was limp, boneless, her legs still wrapped around his waist, but she didn't have the strength to hold on. She was completely dependent on him, trusting him to hold her up, to keep her from sliding to the floor in a heap. And he did. He held her like she was the most precious thing in the world, his arms wrapped tightly around her, his body a solid, unyielding wall of muscle and heat.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy with unspoken words. It was no longer an angry, charged silence. It was a quiet, sated, peaceful silence, a silence that was filled with a new, fragile understanding. The storm had passed, and in its wake, there was a calm, a stillness, a sense of rightness that was so profound it made her heart ache.

Finally, he stirred. He lifted his head, his eyes, which had been squeezed shut in the throes of his passion, slowly opening. They were dark, dazed, but the raw, primal fury was gone. In its place was a deep, unwavering tenderness, a look of such profound love and vulnerability that it made her breath catch. He looked at her, really looked at her, his gaze softening as it roamed over her face, as if he were trying to memorize every line, every curve, every freckle.

"Are you okay?" he murmured, his voice a low, husky whisper that was rough from his shouts and grunts. It was a gentle, caring question, a stark contrast to the rough, demanding man who had just fucked her against the wall.

She could only nod, her throat too tight to speak. She was more than okay. She was alive. She was whole. She was home.

He seemed to understand. A small, sad, beautiful smile touched his lips. He slowly, carefully, unwrapped her legs from his waist, his hands supporting her thighs as he helped her find her footing on the floor. Her legs were shaky, unsteady, and she would have fallen if he hadn't been holding her, his arms a strong, steady anchor around her waist.

He leaned in, his lips finding hers in a soft, gentle kiss. It was nothing like the punishing, demanding kisses from before. This was a kiss of apology, of reverence, of a love that had been tested by fire and had emerged stronger, more resilient. It was a slow, tender exploration, a silent conversation that said more than words ever could. His lips were soft and warm, his touch gentle and hesitant, as if he were afraid she might break. And she might have. She felt fragile, like a piece of fine china that had been shattered and then painstakingly, imperfectly, glued back together.

He pulled back, but only slightly. He rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed, his breath warm against her lips. He was giving her a moment, a space to breathe, to process, to come back to him. And she was grateful. She needed it. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions, a chaotic mix of pleasure, pain, love, and fear. She had just surrendered everything, and the vulnerability was terrifying.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice a low, choked murmur that was barely audible. It wasn't a demand. It wasn't a weapon. It was a confession, a raw, unfiltered glimpse into his soul. It was the truth, the only truth that had ever mattered, laid bare between them.

The words hung in the air, fragile and precious, and Y/N felt a fresh wave of tears welling up in her eyes. This was it. This was the moment she had been running from for two years. This was the choice she had been so terrified to make. She could run again, could push him away, could retreat into the safe, lonely fortress she had built around her heart. Or she could stay. She could surrender. She could finally admit the truth she had been hiding from herself, from him, from the world.

She looked at him, really looked at him. She looked at the man who had been her first love, her first heartbreak, her first everything. She looked at the man who had chased her across continents, who had refused to give up on her, who had seen through her lies and her defenses and had loved her anyway. She looked at the man who had just given her the most intense, most mind-blowing sexual experience of her life, who had fucked her with a raw, primal passion that had left her breathless and spent, and then had held her with a tenderness that had made her heart ache.

And she knew. She had always known. There was no choice. There had never been a choice.

"I love you too," she whispered, her voice a shaky, tear-filled breath. It was the hardest thing she had ever said, and the easiest. It was a surrender, a defeat, a victory. It was the end of a war and the beginning of a new life.

A single tear escaped, tracing a path down her cheek, and he caught it with his thumb, his touch gentle, reverent. He let out a long, shuddering breath, a sound of pure, unadulterated relief, as if he had been holding it for two years. The tension in his shoulders eased, the hard lines of his face softened, and he looked at her with an expression of such pure, unadulterated joy that it made her heart ache with a happiness so intense it was almost painful.

"Thank god," he breathed, his voice a low, choked whisper.

Taglist:

@f1fantasys @desperatekingdomofalara @dedaaa1 @lilycampbells-blog @moonlight-176 @graydolan12 @thegirlinblackgreensilver @liv1209 @drdbnkl2008 @sarx164 @eccentriccybergypsy23 @landoism @htpssgavi @rubyybabyy @not-estella-espresion @idklilili

charlie.nation: CHARLIE CONTENT AGAIN WE WON 😭🐶 → loveroflan: he’s literally living the dream life → lanmeliehub: main character dog

papayagirl: not her escaping to london like “i need fresh air and charlie therapy” 😭 → racegirlie: honestly valid → sunsetamelie: mental reset era

ameliecore: the way charlie is always outside like he pays rent 😭 → goldenhouramelie: he basically does

fanameliee: she looks so peaceful for once omg 😭🤍 → cherryvibes: charlie fixes everything → dreamygirlie: emotional support dog fr

gridgirlie: somewhere lando is refreshing this post smiling like an idiot 😭

papayastan: london park walks >>> anything else honestly → orangeera: especially with charlie → paddockvibes: elite combo

raceweekendd: the timeline is yacht → vancouver → london park 😭 girl has RANGE → monacofan: global girly behavior → moonlightvibes: she’s everywhere

softamelie: charlie really said “I will be in every important moment of your life” 😭 → goldenpapaya: and he meant it

amelievibes: this is such a “soft reset after chaos” post 😭🤍 → goldenhouramelie: exactly that energy → softclouds: healing arc

f1fairytale: charlie has seen more countries this year than most people 😭 → lovergirlie: travel influencer dog

papayadreams: i just know she talks to charlie like he understands every word 😭 → cherryvibes: he DOES understand → lanmeliehub: scientifically proven

gridgirl22: charlie looks happier than half the paddock 😭 → paddockangel: he’s living better than us

fanpageamelie: “london air that does not agree with her hair” is so real 😭 → goldenpapaya: humidity wins again → sunsetamelie: every time

softvibes: she looks like she needed this more than anything else honestly 😭🤍 → goldenhouramelie: peaceful era → softamelie: finally

papayagirl: charlie is the only constant in this entire timeline 😭 → loveroflan: unshakable presence

ameliecore: i love how her life is literally glamorous chaos + dog walks 😭 → cherryvibes: perfect balance → dreamygirlie: iconic lifestyle

racegirlie: london park sighting feels like a reset button for the fandom 😭 → orangeera: we needed this → paddockvibes: emotional reboot

gridgirl22: the way london parks are now part of the storyline 😭

f1dailyy: no drama just charlie and grass 😭🐶 → goldenpapaya: healing content

charliewatch: charlie getting more paparazzi coverage than half the grid 😭🐶 → loveroflan: deserved honestly → lanmeliehub: he’s the moment

papayagirl: this is the most peaceful post in the entire timeline after all the chaos 😭 → racegirlie: we needed this reset → goldenpapaya: emotional detox

amelieupdates: she really said “no paddock, no yacht, just grass and dog” 😭 → sunsetamelie: minimalist era

fanameliee: charlie is actually the glue holding this universe together 😭 → cherryvibes: main character energy → dreamygirlie: undeniable fact

papayastan: after vancouver chaos this is exactly what we needed 😭🤍 → orangeera: soft landing arc

monacogirl: the way this dog has been in monaco, canada, london, yacht life… he’s a jetsetter 😭 → raceweekendd: influencer dog era → orangeera: global icon

f1fairytale: i know this is just a park walk but it feels like a soft reset chapter 😭

ameliecore: she looks like she’s finally breathing again 😭🤍 → goldenhouramelie: peace looks good on her → softclouds: needed pause

racegirlie: charlie is literally her emotional support system at this point 😭 → sunsetamelie: and lando is probably checking flights rn

amelievibes: charlie really said “no drama allowed here” 😭 → softamelie: peaceful king → sunsetamelie: enforcing boundaries

papayagirl: i love how charlie is literally the main character of her soft life era 😭

fanpageamelie: this feels like the calm before another chaos dump 😭 → cherryvibes: always is → dreamygirlie: enjoy it while it lasts

monacofan: the contrast between yacht glam and london park is insane 😭 → orangeera: dual aesthetics

softvibes: she always comes back to charlie when everything gets loud 😭🤍 → goldenhouramelie: grounding energy → softamelie: emotional anchor

raceweekendd: charlie out here healing the whole fandom unintentionally 😭 → papayastan: therapist dog

amelieupdates: this is giving “I needed a walk more than he did” energy 😭 → goldenpapaya: 100% → loveroflan: accurate caption

gridgirl22: no but why does this feel like a movie ending scene 😭 → dreamygirlie: soft credits rolling → cherryvibes: fade to black energy

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

The fluorescent lights of Madame Tussauds London gave everything a slightly unreal glow, the kind that made even reality feel staged. The studio space had been converted into a temporary measuring station, cables taped neatly across the floor and equipment arranged with clinical precision. Lando stood in the center of it all in a fitted black base outfit, arms slightly out as a technician adjusted a measuring tape around his shoulders with focused concentration.

He tried not to move which, for him, was already a challenge.

—Try to keep your jaw relaxed,— one of the artists instructed while gently tilting his face upward. —We’re capturing facial structure, so any tension will affect the scan.—

—No pressure,— Lando muttered under his breath.

A quiet laugh came from somewhere behind the equipment table, but he couldn’t turn to see who it was without ruining the measurements currently being taken along his cheekbones. Instead, he stared straight ahead, trying very hard not to think about how absurd it felt to be turned into a wax figure while still very much alive.

The measuring tape disappeared from around his shoulders only to be replaced by another one around the widest part of his chest. Two members of the Madame Tussauds team quietly exchanged numbers while another typed measurements into a tablet, double-checking every decimal before moving on to the next step. Around the room, reference photographs of Lando from different race weekends were pinned to large boards alongside color charts, hair samples, and dozens of notes describing everything from the angle of his smile to the tiny freckles scattered across his face.

One of the sculptors stepped closer with a small caliper.

—We're just going to measure the distance between your pupils now,— she explained gently. —Try to keep looking straight ahead.—

—I haven't looked anywhere else for twenty minutes,— Lando replied with a sigh.

—Excellent. Keep doing that.—

He resisted the urge to laugh.

The process had gone on for nearly three hours already, every tiny detail of his appearance carefully documented by people who somehow noticed things about his face that even he had never realized existed. They had measured his ears, the bridge of his nose, every finger on both hands, the curve of his smile, the shape of his eyebrows, and even the exact length of his eyelashes.

Apparently becoming immortalized in wax required an unreasonable amount of patience.

The studio door suddenly opened behind him.

The movement immediately caught his attention despite the instructions not to move, his eyes shifting ever so slightly toward the sound before he forced himself to stare forward again.

A familiar voice drifted into the room before he saw its owner.

Lando couldn't turn his head without ruining the measurements, but he recognized the laugh instantly. It carried through the studio with an ease that made the corners of his mouth threaten to lift despite the sculptor currently holding a measuring caliper against the bridge of his nose.

—Thanks for coming to get me,— Amelie was saying as she stepped through the doorway.

—No problem,— Mark replied warmly, holding the door open behind her. —They've nearly finished with the facial measurements. Figured I'd save you from getting lost in this maze.—

Charlie trotted happily beside her, his lead loosely wrapped around her wrist as his paws clicked softly against the polished floor. His ears perked up immediately at the unfamiliar environment, nose working overtime as he attempted to investigate absolutely everything within reach. Every few seconds he glanced back toward Amelie before continuing his determined inspection of the studio.

One of the artists looked up and smiled.

—You must be Amelie.—

She returned the smile politely.

—I hope I'm not interrupting anything.—

—Not at all,— the woman assured her. —Actually, your timing is perfect.—

Lando's eyes finally found her.

She was standing just inside the doorway wearing an oversized cream jumper tucked casually into blue jeans, her hair falling loosely over one shoulder after what had clearly been a long day. Charlie stood faithfully beside her, completely unaware that several people had already abandoned their work for a second just to admire how photogenic he somehow managed to be.

The moment their eyes met, everything else around him disappeared.

Lando couldn't smile the way he wanted to.

One artist still had both hands lightly positioned against either side of his face while another compared measurements on a tablet, making even the smallest movement enough to throw off their work. Instead, he settled for the only greeting he could manage without ruining twenty minutes of careful measuring.

He winked.

It was quick, almost imperceptible. But Amelie caught it immediately.

A smile spread across her face before she could stop it, warmth rushing into her cheeks almost instantly. She lowered her head for a second, hoping nobody would notice the blush that had arrived far too easily, before pretending to become suddenly fascinated by the room around her.

Lando watched the entire thing unfold from the corner of his eye, immensely satisfied with himself despite not being allowed to move another muscle.

One of the technicians noticed her looking around and gestured toward a nearby table covered with dozens of organized samples.

—Actually, if you don't mind,— she said, smiling politely, —you're probably the perfect person to look over these.—

—Me?— Amelie blinked.

The woman nodded enthusiastically.

—These are all the reference selections we've made so far. Eye colour, skin tone, hair colour, freckles, lip pigmentation... little details like that. Since you see him more often than we do, another opinion would be incredibly helpful.—

Amelie glanced toward Lando, who was still standing perfectly still while a sculptor measured the width of his jaw.

His eyes met hers again.

This time he couldn't even wink.

He simply raised one eyebrow as if silently saying, Go on.

She laughed quietly before walking toward the table, Charlie padding obediently beside her until he decided lying underneath it was considerably more entertaining than standing.

The tabletop looked almost like an artist's palette.

Rows of artificial eye samples reflected different shades beneath the studio lights, while strips of hair matched everything from warm blondes to darker chestnut tones. There were dozens of skin tone references, colour charts for lips and ears, tiny photographs zoomed in on freckles, and handwritten notes describing features she'd never once considered about Lando's appearance.

One member of the Madame Tussauds team stood beside her with a clipboard already prepared.

—We selected these after comparing several hundred photographs,— she explained. —But lighting changes everything, so sometimes someone who actually knows the person notices little differences.—

Amelie leaned slightly over the display, studying everything with surprising concentration.

She picked up one of the eye colour samples first.

She tilted it toward the light.

Then shook her head.

—I think... this one is a little too blue.—

The woman immediately wrote something down.

—Too blue?—

Amelie nodded.

—They're not really blue. They're... lighter around the outside but greener in the middle depending on the light. Especially when he's outside.—

The woman swapped it for another sample.

—Like this?—

Amelie smiled.

—Closer... but maybe between those two.—

Another note was written immediately.

She moved onto the skin tone cards next, comparing them carefully before gently sliding one aside.

She moved onto the skin tone cards next, comparing them carefully before gently sliding one aside.

—I actually think this one is a little too warm,— Amelie said thoughtfully, holding two of the samples beside one another beneath the bright studio lights. She tilted them back and forth, comparing how they reflected the light before settling on another shade. —He's got a bit more pink in his skin than this, especially after races or if he's embarrassed. This one feels closer.—

The artist immediately scribbled another note onto her clipboard before swapping the reference card into the growing pile of corrected selections.

—Perfect. That's exactly the kind of thing photographs don't always capture.—

Amelie smiled politely before moving farther along the table. She paused over the hair samples, gently brushing her fingertips across several strands before picking one up. Charlie, meanwhile, had completely settled underneath the table, stretching comfortably across the floor with absolutely no concern for the importance of the work happening above him.

She picked up another hair sample, holding it beside a printed reference photograph before immediately shaking her head again. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, the kind that only appeared when she was quietly amused by something most people would never notice. She carefully exchanged it for another strand that looked almost identical to everyone else in the room, yet completely different to someone who absentmindedly played with his curls every evening while they watched television.

—I think this one,— she said thoughtfully. —His hair looks lighter in the summer, but indoors it's usually closer to this. And his curls make it look darker than it actually is.—

The woman beside her nodded enthusiastically, making another neat note on the clipboard before swapping the sample without hesitation.

—That's incredibly helpful. We've spent hours comparing photographs, but lighting changes everything.—

Amelie smiled softly, continuing farther down the table. There were tiny printed photographs highlighting the freckles scattered across Lando's face, each one numbered and catalogued with surprising precision. She leaned closer, studying them for several seconds before gently pointing toward one of the enlarged images.

—He's actually got another little one just... here.—

She reached up instinctively, tapping the same spot on her own cheek where the freckle sat on Lando's face.

—It's tiny. You only really notice it when he's outside.—

The artist looked pleasantly surprised.

—I don't think any of our reference photos picked that up.—

Amelie laughed quietly.

—I only noticed because I spend an unhealthy amount of time looking at his face.—

The woman smiled warmly.

—I suppose that makes you our most reliable reference.—

Several minutes later, the final facial measurements were finally complete.

One of the sculptors carefully lowered the measuring tools before taking a step back with a satisfied smile.

—I think that's everything.—

Lando immediately stretched his neck from side to side, earning several quiet pops from muscles that had remained almost perfectly still for far too long.

—I can move?—

The woman laughed.

—You have officially earned the right to move again.—

—Best news I've heard all day.—

He rolled his shoulders dramatically before instinctively looking across the studio.

Amelie was still standing beside the reference table, now discussing the final lip colour sample with another artist while Charlie continued sleeping beneath the display completely unaware that his owner had just become an unofficial consultant for Madame Tussauds.

Lando smiled to himself.

Without saying anything to the staff around him, he quietly crossed the room.

Amelie remained completely focused on the colour charts spread across the table.

—I think this one might be just a touch too pale,— she was saying thoughtfully while comparing two different samples beneath the overhead lights. —His lips usually have a little more colour than this, especially if he's been outside all day.—

The artist nodded appreciatively.

—I honestly don't know how you notice these things.—

Amelie laughed.

—I don't think I realised I did until today.—

The woman scribbled down one final note before carefully organizing the corrected samples into a separate pile.

—Thank you, honestly. This will make a huge difference.—

—Happy to help.—

She had barely finished speaking before she felt two familiar arms slide gently around her waist from behind.

Amelie didn't even flinch.

The warmth of him, the familiar pressure of his embrace, and the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the studio's clean air told her exactly who it was before he even spoke. A smile spread across her face so naturally that she couldn't have hidden it if she'd tried, her shoulders relaxing as she leaned back ever so slightly against his chest.

Lando rested his chin lightly near her shoulder, glancing over the organized rows of color samples she'd spent the last twenty minutes meticulously correcting. His eyes scanned the notes written all over the clipboard before a mischievous grin slowly tugged at the corner of his mouth.

—Just so we're clear,— he said in an exaggeratedly serious voice, —if this thing ends up looking ugly... it's entirely your fault now.—

The Madame Tussauds artist immediately laughed, lowering her clipboard while trying not to interrupt the moment. Even Mark, who had been chatting with another member of the team across the room, looked over with an amused smile already knowing exactly where the conversation was heading.

Amelie let out a laugh that echoed softly around the studio before slowly turning within the circle of his arms until she was facing him properly. Her hands naturally settled against his chest, and she looked up at him with an expression full of mock offense.

—Oh, please,— she said, her voice dripping with pure sarcasm as she looked into his eyes. —If it turns out ugly, it’s just because the artists were being entirely accurate to the original model. I can only do so much with what I’m given, Norris.—

Lando let out a loud laugh, rolling his eyes dramatically at her comeback before tightening his grip around her waist to pull her even closer against him. He leaned down and kissed her slowly, his lips warm and lingering against hers for a long moment, completely ignoring the fact that half of the Madame Tussauds team was still standing around them with clipboards.

When he finally pulled back, he offered her a soft, grateful smile that completely gave away how happy he was that she had actually made it to the session. He reached down to quickly scratch Charlie behind the ears, the puppy having finally crawled out from underneath the table the exact moment he realized his favorite humans were distracting each other.

—Right, I am just going to change back into my actual clothes and then we can finally go,— Lando told her, giving her waist one last gentle squeeze before stepping toward the dressing room. —Because I am absolutely starving, and if I don't get food in my system within the next twenty minutes, I might actually eat one of these wax samples.—

Amelie chuckled, watching him walk away before turning back to the staff to thank them for being so patient with his chaotic energy throughout the afternoon. She was equally excited to finally leave the studio, especially considering the massive evening they had planned ahead of them with some of their closest friends.

They were heading straight over to Max and Pietra’s place tonight for a joint celebration, since Pietra’s birthday was coming up in a couple of days and they wanted to celebrate properly before everyone's schedules got too crazy. Plus, England was playing Croatia tonight in a massive World Cup matchup, and Lando had been talking about watching the football game with Max for the entire week.

Lando emerged from the dressing room a few minutes later, looking much more like himself in a casual hoodie and jeans, immediately grabbing Charlie’s leash from Amelie’s hand as they began walking toward the exit. Both of them couldn't wait to escape the warm London drizzle outside, ready to spend the rest of the night eating good food, shouting at the television screen, and completely forgetting about racing and wax figures for a while.

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

liked by orangeera, softclouds, and others

lanmeliehub: THEY LITERALLY CRASHED THE LAST FIVE MINUTES OF MAX'S STREAM 😭🎂

Lando and Amelie arrived at Max & Pietra's apartment for Pietra's birthday dinner, and the stream accidentally caught this moment. We are NEVER surviving candid Lanmelie. 🥹🤍

View all 847 comments

papayagirl: THE NECK KISS????????????? 😭😭😭 → loveroflan: i literally screamed → lanmeliehub: WE WERE NOT SUPPOSED TO SEE THAT

raceweekendd: max accidentally giving us premium lanmelie content 😭 → cherryvibes: best streamer ever → dreamygirlie: unintentional service

fanameliee: she was just trying to carry the cake and this man couldn't keep his hands to himself 😭 → goldenhouramelie: he's attached

papayastan: the way she immediately started laughing 😭🤍 → orangeera: that's my favorite part → monacofan: so natural

gridgirlie: imagine opening a stream for poker and leaving with a neck kiss clip 😭 → racegirlie: biggest plot twist → paddockvibes: incredible value

loveroflan: HE GREETED HER BEFORE THE BIRTHDAY CAKE 😭 → sunsetamelie: priorities

ameliecore: they're so physically affectionate all the time i'm actually unwell 😭 → goldenpapaya: it's effortless → softclouds: they can't help it

formulaheart: max's stream has become accidental lanmelie documentaries 😭 → papayagirl: every single time → lovergirlie: i'm not complaining

papayadreams: poor pietra trying to have a birthday meanwhile these two are starring in a romance movie 😭

fanpageamelie: the way he buried his face into her neck for a second 😭 → dreamygirlie: i noticed too → lanmeliehub: i replayed it ten times

monacogirl: THEY DIDN'T EVEN KNOW THE CAMERA WAS THERE 😭 → paddockangel: that's what makes it better → orangeera: completely candid

softamelie: this is somehow more intimate than any red carpet photo 😭 → goldenhouramelie: because it's real life → sunsetamelie: exactly

papayagirl: someone clip max going "they're here!" and then immediately panning to THAT 😭 → loveroflan: cinematic timing → lanmeliehub: editor deserves an oscar

f1fairytale: every candid video of them somehow confirms they're even cuter off camera 😭

gridgirl22: charlie was probably somewhere watching them like "here they go again" 😭 → papayastan: third wheel king → monacofan: completely used to it

amelievibes: i love that she didn't even flinch when he hugged her 😭 → goldenpapaya: she's so used to it → softamelie: muscle memory

loveroflan: imagine being max reading chat while this happened 😭 → cherryvibes: absolute chaos

formulaedits: this relationship is literally built on random hugs and forehead/neck kisses 😭 → sunsetracing: and i'm obsessed → orangeera: inject it into my veins

papayastan: not the internet collectively freezing over a TWO SECOND CLIP 😭 → lovergirlie: that's all we needed → lanmeliehub: lifetime supply of serotonin

raceweekendd: max and pietra just wanted a birthday dinner and accidentally fed the fandom 😭 → paddockvibes: collateral damage

fanameliee: the way she kept smiling while holding the cake 😭🥹 → softclouds: happiest girl ever → papayagirl: i'm gonna cry

papayagirl: i’m sorry but the way he just went STRAIGHT for her the second she walked in 😭😭 → loveroflan: zero hesitation, no thoughts → lanmeliehub: automatic reaction at this point

fanameliee: she is literally holding a whole cake and he still prioritised a neck kiss 😭 → goldenhouramelie: love > dessert → softamelie: correct choice honestly

gridgirl22: this is NOT how you behave in someone else’s birthday stream 😭😭 → paddockvibes: and yet here we are

papayastan: the way she instantly smiled like she was expecting it 😭🤍 → sunsetamelie: they’re predictable in the cutest way → monacofan: routine affection behavior

loveroflan: i love how max didn’t even react anymore like “yeah this is happening again” 😭

ameliecore: no because this is literally domestic couple energy in someone else’s kitchen 😭 → softclouds: uninvited romcom extras → goldenpapaya: accurate description

fanameliee: THE CAKE ALMOST DROPPED AND HE STILL DID THAT 😭😭 → paddockangel: priorities were LOCKED IN

monacogirl: the neck kiss is doing numbers in my brain rn i fear 😭 → racegirlie: same, replaying it mentally → lanmeliehub: it lives rent free

papayadreams: imagine explaining this clip to someone outside the fandom 😭 → lovergirlie: “so a cake, a stream, and chaos happened”

amelievibes: she literally laughed like “of course you’re doing this right now” 😭🤍 → goldenhouramelie: she accepts her fate → softamelie: she loves it honestly

fanpageamelie: max’s stream is officially a lanmelie side quest at this point 😭

papayagirl: not even the birthday girl is main character here i’m crying 😭 → loveroflan: harsh but true → lanmeliehub: stolen spotlight

raceweekendd: this is what happens when you invite them anywhere 😭😭

softamelie: the softness in her face when he hugged her is actually insane 😭🤍

formulaedits: someone PLEASE tell max to start charging for lanmelie content at this point 😭 → orangeera: monetisation arc → cherryvibes: business model unlocked

papayastan: cake in one hand, boyfriend in the other, fandom in chaos 😭😭 → loveroflan: perfect balance

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

The dining room looked exactly like every successful dinner party was supposed to look afterward: comfortably chaotic. Half-empty wine glasses remained scattered across the long wooden table beside abandoned dessert plates streaked with chocolate frosting, crumpled napkins, and wrapping paper from Pietra's early birthday presents. Empty serving bowls sat forgotten near the center, while someone's forgotten phone continued vibrating every few minutes beneath a folded napkin that nobody had bothered to move.

The smell of dinner still lingered throughout the apartment, now mixed with freshly brewed coffee and the unmistakable sweetness of birthday cake. Laughter had gradually migrated from the dining room to the living room over the last half hour, where the television now dominated everyone's attention.

The match had somehow become dramatically more stressful than anyone had expected.

Max, Lando and Tom occupied nearly the entire couch, each of them leaning forward with elbows resting on their knees as if physically getting closer to the television would somehow influence the score. Every missed pass earned dramatic groans while every promising attack made all three instinctively sit a little straighter.

—Come on...— Lando muttered, almost pleading with the television.

—Move the ball!— Max complained loudly.

—He's wide open!— Tom shouted at the screen as though the England midfield could somehow hear him from London.

The referee's whistle finally echoed through the speakers.

Halftime.

The three men collectively let out exhausted sighs.

Before anyone had time to say another word, Tom suddenly launched himself off the couch with the urgency of someone escaping a burning building. He practically vaulted over the coffee table instead of walking around it, landing awkwardly before sprinting toward the hallway.

—I have to pee!— he announced dramatically without slowing down. —I've been holding it for thirty minutes!

Lando immediately burst into laughter.

—Mate, were you waiting for permission?—

Tom didn't even bother turning around.

Instead, he simply lifted one hand over his shoulder and extended his middle finger in their general direction without breaking stride.

The bathroom door slammed shut a second later.

The second the bathroom door slammed shut, both Max and Lando burst into laughter loud enough to echo through the apartment.

—He's actually pathetic,— Max said through a laugh, leaning back against the couch cushions. —How do you forget you need to pee for half an hour?—

Lando wiped at the corner of one eye dramatically.

—The man's bladder is powered entirely by football.—

—If England scores while he's in there, he's going to come back blaming the toilet.—

From behind the closed bathroom door came Tom's unmistakable voice.

—I CAN STILL HEAR YOU!—

That only made the laughter louder.

Max threw his head back against the couch, clutching his stomach dramatically while Lando pointed toward the closed bathroom door like Tom's protest had somehow proven every insult they'd thrown at him.

—Good,— Lando called back. —That means your hearing still works even if your bladder doesn't.—

—You're both idiots!— Tom yelled from behind the door.

—Love you too!— Max answered cheerfully.

The apartment settled back into comfortable noise almost immediately afterward. The television continued replaying highlights from the first half while commentators passionately analyzed every missed opportunity as though England's entire future depended on the next forty-five minutes. Max reached absentmindedly for another handful of crisps sitting on the coffee table, tossing one into his mouth without taking his eyes off the screen.

Lando was halfway through complaining about England's defending when the front door clicked open again.

All three men instinctively looked up.

Cold evening air drifted briefly into the apartment before the door swung wider, revealing Pietra first with Rio comfortably tucked into her arms. The little long-haired dachshund looked completely content after his walk, ears bouncing slightly as Pietra stepped inside laughing at something Alissa had just said behind her.

Amelie followed right after them with Charlie trotting happily beside her on his leash, his tail wagging so enthusiastically that it repeatedly smacked against the hallway wall. Alissa closed the door behind them, rubbing her hands together after the cooler London evening before slipping her trainers off near the entrance.

—We're back!— Pietra announced.

Rio immediately stretched toward Max from her arms, recognizing his favorite human from across the room.

Charlie, meanwhile, was entirely focused on getting back inside, already sniffing enthusiastically at the lingering smell of birthday cake as Amelie crouched near the doorway to unclip his leash. The second the clip clicked free, Charlie happily wandered off toward the living room, greeting everyone individually as though he'd been gone for days instead of twenty minutes.

—Hi, handsome,— Max cooed dramatically at Rio, reaching both hands out.

Pietra rolled her eyes.

—I carried him the whole walk and that's the greeting he gets?—

Max didn't even look away from Rio as he reached up to scratch behind the little dachshund's ears with complete devotion.

—I can greet both of you,— he said matter-of-factly. —But he got here first.—

Pietra looked down at Rio in mock betrayal.

—I have raised a traitor.—

Charlie, meanwhile, had already decided greetings were significantly less important than dessert. His nose led him directly toward the dining room where the lingering scent of chocolate cake still filled the air. Amelie laughed quietly as she watched him disappear around the corner before following at a much more reasonable pace.

—I swear he can smell sugar from another postcode,— Alissa commented, slipping onto one of the dining chairs.

—He definitely inherited that from someone,— Pietra replied, looking directly at Amelie.

—I don't know what you're implying.—

—I think you do.—

Amelie simply smiled innocently before walking over to the dining table, where half-finished slices of cake still rested on scattered dessert plates. She picked up the cake knife, carefully cutting herself another generous slice while absentmindedly brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The conversation from the living room drifted easily through the open space, mixed with the commentators now discussing England's first-half performance.

She had just settled into one of the dining chairs with her plate balanced comfortably in front of her when she felt the chair beside hers scrape softly against the wooden floor.

Amelie looked up.

Lando had somehow abandoned the football match less than thirty seconds after she'd walked through the door, something that under normal circumstances would've been physically impossible during an England World Cup game. Yet there he was, sliding into the chair beside her with an expression that immediately made her suspicious. There was a very particular spark dancing behind his eyes, the same one that usually appeared right before he either made a terrible joke or proudly revealed something he'd been hiding for hours.

Amelie narrowed her eyes immediately, setting her fork down against the edge of her plate with exaggerated caution.

—What?— she asked suspiciously.

Lando didn't answer.

Instead, he simply continued looking at her with that unmistakable grin that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. It was the same expression he wore whenever he'd been hiding a surprise for days and had somehow managed not to accidentally spoil it himself.

She glanced briefly toward the living room.

Max was still focused entirely on the television while absentmindedly scratching Rio behind the ears. Pietra was setting his wine glass back onto the coffee table after stealing a sip. Alissa had wandered toward the kitchen to make coffee, and somewhere down the hallway Tom was still loudly arguing with someone over the phone about whether halftime lasted fifteen or twenty minutes.

Amelie looked back at Lando.

Without answering, he lifted one hand and gently brushed his thumb across the corner of her lips.

Amelie stayed perfectly still, completely confused, watching him with narrowed eyes as he looked down at his thumb.

A tiny streak of chocolate frosting.

—Caught you,— he said triumphantly.

Before she could even react, he casually brought his thumb to his own mouth, tasting the frosting with the most satisfied expression imaginable.

—Yep.— He nodded thoughtfully. —Tastes better.—

Amelie reached over without the slightest bit of mercy and planted the palm of her hand firmly against the side of his face, pushing his head away until he was looking dramatically toward the opposite end of the dining room. Lando let himself be shoved with an exaggerated groan, making absolutely no effort to resist as she laughed at how ridiculous he looked.

—You are genuinely impossible,— Amelie said, still laughing as she kept her hand on his face to hold him at a safe distance.

Lando only smiled wider, completely unbothered by the hand still pressing his face away from her.

—I prefer “romantically committed,” actually.—

Amelie snorted, finally letting go of his face.

—That is not what that is.—

—It absolutely is.—

She shook her head, still smiling as she picked up her fork again, but before she could take another bite, Lando leaned slightly closer again, lowering his voice like he was about to reveal something important.

—Anyway… I actually have something for you.—

Amelie paused mid-bite, fork hovering just above her cake, immediately narrowing her eyes again.

—That sentence is dangerous,— she said slowly. —That’s either something sweet or something that will ruin my life.—

Lando placed a hand over his chest in mock offense.

—Why would I ever ruin your life?—

She stared at him for exactly one second.

—Do you want the full list or just today’s examples?—

From the living room, Max laughed loudly without even turning around.

—She’s got you there, mate.—

Lando ignored him completely, leaning slightly closer to Amelie instead, his expression softening into something more genuine now. The playful spark didn’t disappear, but it shifted into something warmer, like he’d been waiting for the right moment all evening.

—It’s not chaos this time,— he said quietly. —Promise.—

Amelie studied him for a second longer, then finally relaxed her posture just enough to nod.

—Fine. Go on then.—

Lando reached down beside his chair and pulled up a small Adidas bag that had been resting against the leg of the table. It was slightly crumpled, like it had been carried around all evening without much thought, but handled carefully enough that whatever was inside clearly mattered.

He placed it on the table between them.

—Open it,— he said simply.

Amelie hesitated only for a second before setting her fork down again. The room around them continued as normal—Max yelling something about a missed pass, Pietra laughing at Rio trying to steal a napkin, Alissa asking if anyone wanted coffee—but it all faded slightly as Amelie slowly opened the bag.

Inside was a neatly folded England football jersey.

Amelie blinked once, then twice, as if the fabric might rearrange itself into something less obvious. She lifted it carefully by the shoulders, letting the white and navy colors unfold fully in front of her. The Three Lions crest caught the light from the dining room, absurdly official for something that had just been casually handed over in the middle of a birthday dinner.

She looked up at Lando immediately.

Lando was already watching her closely, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned slightly forward, like he needed to see her reaction up close to be satisfied with it.

—Before you say anything,— he started quickly, pointing lightly at the jersey, —yes, I know you already “support England,” but you support England in the way someone supports a friend’s hobby. This is different. This is official.—

Amelie stared at him for a second longer, then slowly lifted one eyebrow.

—Official?—

—Yes.— He nodded seriously. —Like, legally emotionally involved now.—

From the couch, Max finally turned around at the sound of Lando’s voice.

—What is he doing now?—

—Rebranding her nationality apparently,— Pietra replied calmly without looking up from Rio.

Amelie couldn’t help it. She laughed, shaking her head as she unfolded the jersey fully. It was clearly oversized, even before she tried it on, and that alone already made her suspicious of how Lando was looking at her like he’d just won something.

—You’re ridiculous,— she said, but there was no real bite in it.

—You’re welcome,— he corrected immediately.

She ran her fingers over the fabric, then glanced up at him again, softer now.

—So what? I have to wear this now every time England plays?—

Lando shrugged casually, but his smile gave him away completely.

—I mean… I’m not saying you have to. But I am saying it would dramatically improve my emotional stability during penalty shootouts.—

—That sounds like a you problem.—

—It is a you solution,— he corrected again.

Max made a disgusted noise from the couch.

—Mate, you’re insufferable.—

—You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first,— Lando shot back without even looking at him.

Amelie shook her head, still smiling as she stood up slowly with the jersey in her hands. Charlie immediately got up as well, thinking anything involving movement meant attention, while Pietra leaned back into Max again, already settling into second-half comfort mode.

—Try it on,— Lando said immediately, sitting up straighter like he couldn’t help himself.

Amelie chuckled softly and rolled her eyes at his eagerness, but she didn’t argue as she unfolded the white fabric completely. Lando stood up right along with her, abandoning his chair completely to grab the empty Adidas paper bag from the table while keeping his eyes fixed entirely on her.

Without bothering to head to the bedroom, Amelie simply stayed exactly where she was in the open-plan common area of the apartment. She raised her arms and slid the smooth, structured football jersey directly over her head, pulling it down right on top of the fitted, baby blue tank top she had been wearing all evening.

The second the fabric settled, Lando froze, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the sight of her standing in the middle of the room. The jersey was ridiculously, absurdly big on her frame, the hem easily falling past her hips and the sleeves nearly swallowing her elbows, but somehow the oversized look only made her look incredibly hot.

Lando stepped closer without a shred of hesitation, a sudden, heavy warmth taking over his expression as his hands automatically found her waist beneath the white fabric. He leaned his head down, bringing his lips dangerously close to her ear as his grip tightened affectionately against her skin.

—You look ridiculously hot in that, you know,— he murmured, his voice dropping into a deeper, much lower register that sent a sudden spark straight down her spine. —Honestly, I might have to buy you the away kit tomorrow just so I can see you wear that one, too.—

Amelie barely had time to roll her eyes before Lando closed the space between them completely, his hands still resting warm and steady at her waist beneath the oversized jersey. The fabric of the England shirt pooled loosely around her frame, swallowing her proportions in a way that made his already obvious stare even less subtle than usual.

—You’re impossible,— she whispered, though her voice came out softer than she intended.

Lando only smiled wider, clearly pleased with himself, leaning in just enough that their noses almost brushed. The living room behind them continued in full chaos, England commentary mixing with Max complaining about possession stats and Pietra laughing at something Rio had done to a napkin.

—And yet you still like me,— he murmured, almost proudly.

Amelie opened her mouth to respond, probably something sarcastic and sharp, but Lando didn’t give her the chance. He kissed her instead, slow and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world despite the match, their friends, and the entire apartment existing around them.

It was the kind of kiss that made everything else irrelevant.

When he finally pulled back just enough to look at her, his forehead resting lightly against hers, he was still smiling like an idiot who had gotten away with something.

A loud groan erupted from the couch behind them almost instantly.

—Oh my God, get a room,— Max called out without even trying to hide his annoyance, throwing his head back against the cushions like he had personally suffered through the display.

Pietra didn’t even look up from where she was now fully settled against him again, Rio comfortably sprawled across both of their laps like a tiny, victorious dictator.

—They were in a room,— she pointed out calmly. —We are also in a room.—

—This is my room,— Max corrected immediately, gesturing vaguely around the apartment. —I pay emotional rent here.—

From the hallway, Tom’s voice echoed back as the bathroom door finally opened again.

—Did England score?—

Max didn’t even hesitate.

—No, but Lando did.—

Tom paused for half a second, then walked straight back into the living room drying his hands.

—I didn’t need to hear that.—

Lando let out a quiet laugh against Amelie’s lips, still holding her close as if he hadn’t fully processed the fact that the entire room was watching them again. He finally pulled back just enough to glance over her shoulder, immediately locking eyes with Max on the couch, who was now looking at them with the exhausted expression of someone who had witnessed too much affection in a single evening.

—Oh, relax,— Lando called out casually, still not letting go of Amelie’s waist. —It’s halftime. Everyone’s emotionally available right now.—

—No one is emotionally available for that,— Max shot back immediately, gesturing between them with his bottle like it was evidence in a trial.

Amelie laughed softly, leaning back slightly into Lando’s chest while still wearing the oversized England jersey. It hung off her frame in a way that made it almost unfair how well she wore it, sleeves slightly too long as she absentmindedly adjusted one cuff. Lando, meanwhile, looked far too pleased with himself, like he’d personally contributed to England’s morale just by dressing her.

Pietra shifted slightly against Max, now comfortably settled again with Rio curled up between them like he owned the couch.

—Honestly,— Pietra said calmly, taking a bite of cake, —I think it’s sweet. Let them be weird in peace.—

Max turned his head slowly toward her.

—You’re only saying that because you’re currently cuddling Rio and not me.—

—Correct,— she replied without hesitation.

Amelie smiled to herself and finally stepped away from Lando just enough to grab her abandoned fork again from the dining table. She speared a piece of cake absentmindedly, still wearing the jersey like she’d forgotten it was there, then turned back toward him with a teasing look in her eyes.

—So this is what you do now? Give me national football kits as emotional manipulation?—

Lando shrugged, completely unbothered, leaning his hip against the edge of the table.

—If it works, it’s not manipulation. It’s strategy.—

—That is the worst logic I’ve ever heard,— Amelie said, smiling despite herself.

—And yet you’re still wearing it,— he pointed out immediately.

She looked down at the jersey, then back up at him, raising an eyebrow.

—I’m wearing it because I like free clothes.—

—Sure.—

—And because it annoys Max,— she added sweetly.

Lando burst into a genuine laugh at that, his eyes wrinkling at the corners as he watched her take another small bite of her chocolate frosting. The living room atmosphere remained perfectly chaotic around them, the broadcast commentators on the television screen finally wrapping up their halftime analysis as the players began filtering back out onto the pitch for the second half.

Amelie casually walked over to the couch, the hem of the oversized white jersey swishing against her thighs as she abandoned the dining table completely. Without a shred of hesitation, she flopped down heavily onto the plush cushions directly on the other side of Pietra, neatly sandwiching the birthday girl right between herself and a highly disgruntled Max.

Pietra didn't even look up from scratching Rio's long-haired ears before she instinctively shifted her weight, completely detaching herself from Max's side to happily turn and cuddle up against Amelie instead. She rested her head comfortably right against the soft fabric of the new England jersey, letting out a satisfied sigh as if this was exactly how she had wanted to spend the rest of the match.

Max froze instantly, his arm still awkwardly extended in the empty air where his girlfriend had been leaning only a single second prior. He slowly lowered his arm, looking back and forth between Pietra and Amelie with an expression of pure, unadulterated betrayal that made Tom burst out laughing from the adjacent armchair.

—Oh, fantastic, this is brilliant,— Max muttered sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared at the two girls who were now completely ignoring him. —First I get subjected to a public display of affection in my own kitchen, and now my girlfriend completely dumps me to cuddle with the opposition. Lando, come collect your woman, she is ruining my seating arrangement.—

Lando strolled over from the dining room with an incredibly smug grin plastered across his face, casually leaning over the back of the sofa right behind Amelie's head. He reached down to gently twist a loose strand of her hair around his finger, thoroughly enjoying the utter look of defeat on Max's face.

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

georgerussell63 replied to your story

georgerussell63: bro you're NOT subtle 😭 lando: about what georgerussell63: your hand. lando: what hand georgerussell63: exactly.

maxfewtrell replied to your story

maxfewtrell: mate crop the photo a LITTLE better next time 💀 lando: i did maxfewtrell: you absolutely did not lando: artistic choice

alex_albon replied to your story

alex_albon: england shirt ✔️ alex_albon: girlfriend ✔️ alex_albon: hand wandering ✔️ alex_albon: standard sunday lando: priorities alex_albon: clearly 😭

charles_leclerc replied to your story

charles_leclerc: i noticed something lando: no you didn't charles_leclerc: i definitely did lando: mind your business

flo_norris_showjumping replied to your story

flo_norris_showjumping: LANDO??? lando: what flo_norris_showjumping: your HAND??? lando: that's enough out of you

carlossainz55 replied to your story

carlossainz55: nice picture lando: thanks mate carlossainz55: your cropping skills need work though lando: 😐

carmenmundt replied to your story

carmenmundt: i'm choosing to ignore your hand and focus on how cute you both look lando: thank you carmenmundt: someone has to

danielricciardo replied to your story

danielricciardo: young love 🥹 lando: we've been together two years danielricciardo: exactly danielricciardo: still gross

oscarpiastri replied to your story

oscarpiastri: wasn't expecting the hand placement lando: wasn't asking oscarpiastri: fair enough

lilymhe replied to your story

lilymhe: i know exactly why this is on close friends 💀 lando: lmaooo lilymhe: because if it hit main you'd never hear the end of it

ameliedayman replied to your story

ameliedayman: ...lando. lando: hi baby ❤️ ameliedayman: did you LOOK at what you posted lando: yes?? ameliedayman: clearly not. lando: wait why ameliedayman: zoom in. lando: ... lando: OH. ameliedayman: 😐 lando: i'm leaving it ameliedayman: you're unbelievable 😭 lando: looks cute xx ameliedayman: i'm dating an idiot lando: your idiot ❤️

jackdayman replied to your story

jackdayman: showing dad this rn lando: WHAT jackdayman: zooming in too lando: JACK I'M BEGGING jackdayman: should've cropped better xx

maxverstappen1 replied to your story

maxverstappen1: subtle lando: thanks maxverstappen1: that was sarcasm lando: i know

alexwolffofficial replied to your story

alexwolffofficial : every single one of us zoomed in btw lando: WHY alexwolffofficial : because we have functioning eyes lando: unfortunate

hannahmeloche replied to your story

hannahmeloche: lando 😭 lando: hannah don't hannahmeloche: she let you post THAT?? lando: she didn't notice hannahmeloche: until now 💀

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

The hotel suite had somehow managed to look exactly the same as it had the night before despite both of them already living in it as though they'd been there for a week.

Two large suitcases still stood unopened near the wall beside the television, airline tags dangling from the handles after their flight into London barely twenty-four hours earlier. Neither of them had bothered unpacking properly. There hadn't been any point. In a few hours, everything would be zipped shut again before they boarded another flight, this time toward Palermo for Callum and Dua's wedding weekend.

The bed, however, told a completely different story.

One side was covered in discarded hoodies, Charlie's favorite toy somehow sat in the middle of the pillows, and two room service menus remained abandoned on the nightstand after last night's debate about whether dessert counted as a real dinner.

Charlie had somehow claimed the exact center of the mattress, stretched out dramatically on his back with one paw hanging over the edge like he paid for the room himself. Lando lay beside him, one arm tucked behind his head while absentmindedly rubbing Charlie's stomach. Every few seconds the little dog let out an exaggerated sigh of contentment that made Lando grin.

—I think he's pretending to be dead so he doesn't have to pack,— Lando observed.

From the bathroom, Amelie's voice floated back toward the bedroom.

—That's because he knows I'm the one who packs his things.—

—Smart dog.—

—Manipulative dog.—

Charlie responded by lazily opening one eye before immediately closing it again, entirely uninterested in defending his reputation.

Amelie emerged from the bathroom balancing an impressive collection of bottles against her chest. Somehow, in less than twenty-four hours, she'd managed to spread shampoo, skincare, makeup, hair products and at least three different lip balms across every available surface.

She was wearing one of Lando’s oversized t-shirts that hung loosely off one shoulder, and a white towel wrapped around her damp hair like she’d given up halfway through drying it. Her bare legs moved carefully across the carpet as she tried not to drop anything, eyes narrowed in concentration like she was carrying fragile cargo instead of toiletries.

Lando lifted his head slightly from the bed, watching her with lazy amusement.

—You look like you’re evacuating the bathroom,— he commented.

—Because I am,— she replied without hesitation, carefully shifting a bottle to her elbow. —Your shampoo exploded somehow.—

—It didn’t explode.— Lando frowned.

Amelie gave him a flat look.

—Then explain why it’s on the mirror, the sink, and somehow inside my skincare bag.—

From the bed, Charlie made a small approving sound as if he supported chaos in all its forms.

Lando sighed dramatically and flopped back down.

—That’s not my fault. That’s physics.—

—It’s definitely your fault,— she said, walking toward the suitcase area. —Everything in this room is your fault somehow.—

—That’s not true.—

She paused just long enough to look at him.

—Name one thing.—

Lando opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Amelie smirked and continued organizing her things on top of one of the suitcases, lining bottles up with suspicious precision. Lando watched her for a moment longer before reaching for his phone on the nightstand, lazily scrolling through nothing important.

The room fell into that soft, comfortable quiet that only existed when neither of them felt the need to fill it.

Charlie stretched again, rolling slightly so his head now hung off the bed.

—He’s going to fall,— Amelie noted without looking up.

—He won’t,— Lando said immediately.

The next second, Charlie rolled off the bed with a soft thump.

Charlie paused for exactly half a second on the carpet, blinking like he was personally offended by gravity, before casually standing up and shaking himself as if it had been intentional all along.

—See?— Lando said proudly, pointing vaguely. —Perfect landing.—

Amelie didn’t even look away from her suitcase.

—He fell off the bed.—

—He dismounted,— Lando corrected.

Charlie immediately walked in a small circle, then jumped back onto the bed with even more dramatic effort than before, as if he needed to prove a point to the universe. He then flopped directly onto Lando’s legs like nothing had ever happened.

Amelie finally smiled to herself, shaking her head as she zipped one of her toiletry bags.

The hotel room settled again into its soft domestic rhythm. The faint hum of air conditioning filled the space, mixing with distant city noise filtering through the windows. Somewhere outside, London was already moving at its usual pace, but inside the suite everything felt suspended, like they existed in a small pocket of calm between flights.

Amelie leaned over one of the open suitcases, still in Lando’s t-shirt, towel slightly slipping as she tied it again absentmindedly. She began sorting things into neat sections, occasionally muttering to herself whenever she found something out of place.

Lando watched her from the bed, head resting against the pillows, one hand still idly scratching Charlie’s ears.

—We should play a game,— he said suddenly.

Amelie didn’t even look up.

—We are packing.—

—No, you are packing. I am supervising.—

She finally glanced over at him.

—You are lying on the bed with a dog on top of you.—

—Exactly. Strategic position.—

Charlie lifted his head at the word “dog” as if confirming his identity, then immediately settled back down again.

Amelie shook her head, half amused.

—What game?—

Lando brightened slightly, shifting so he could see her better.

—Would you rather.—

She paused, considering it for exactly one second while closing a makeup bag.

—Fine. But if it’s stupid, I’m blaming jet lag.—

—Everything I do is genius,— Lando said confidently.

Amelie gave him a look.

Lando ignored the look completely, already shifting deeper into the pillows like he was preparing for something far more serious than packing logistics.

Charlie adjusted himself across Lando’s legs again, curling into a perfect loaf position as if he had personally agreed to participate in the game. The hotel room, still half-packed and softly messy, suddenly felt even more like a strange in-between world where nothing fully counted yet.

—Okay,— Lando started, pointing vaguely toward her with one hand. —Would you rather always have to speak in rhymes or sing everything you say?—

Amelie didn’t even hesitate.

—Sing,— she answered immediately.

Lando blinked.

—Why?—

She shrugged, continuing to fold a hoodie with suspicious precision.

—Because then at least I’d sound good doing it.—

From the bed, Lando laughed into the pillow, Charlie lifting his head like he was also impressed by her confidence. Amelie smirked to herself, clearly satisfied with that answer as she zipped another pouch and tossed it neatly into the suitcase.

—Okay, my turn,— she said, finally looking over at him properly.

Lando straightened slightly, pretending to take this very seriously.

—Hit me.—

Amelie tilted her head.

—Would you rather have to relive every race you’ve ever done… or every argument we’ve ever had?—

Lando made a noise immediately.

—That is not a fair question.—

—It’s a “would you rather,” not a legal contract,— she replied calmly.

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

—Relive races,— he decided quickly. —Easy.—

Amelie raised an eyebrow.

—Not the arguments?—

—Absolutely not the arguments,— he said, pointing at her like she had tried to set him up on purpose. —You win too many of those.—

Amelie smiled to herself, clearly pleased, before turning back to her suitcase like she had just confirmed something scientifically accurate about their relationship.

—Correct answer,— she said simply.

Lando squinted at her from the bed.

—That sounded suspiciously like a trap question.—

—Everything I ask you is a trap question,— she replied without looking up.

Charlie shifted slightly on Lando’s legs, letting out a small huff as if he was also exhausted by the emotional complexity of their conversations. Lando adjusted him automatically, one hand resting on the dog’s back while his eyes stayed on Amelie moving around the room.

Charlie stretched dramatically across the mattress again, completely unaware that he had somehow become the least productive member of the room.

Lando scratched absentmindedly behind one of his ears before looking back toward Amelie, a grin already spreading across his face.

—Alright, your turn's over. Mine again.—

Amelie closed the zipper of one packing cube before tossing it neatly into her suitcase.

—Go on then.— Lando pretended to think for several seconds.

—Would you rather... always have cold feet, or always have a pillow that's warm on both sides?—

—Always have cold feet,— Amelie answered immediately, entirely unfazed as she walked over to the closet. —Because then I have a perfectly valid excuse to shove my frozen toes directly onto your legs while we are sleeping to warm them up, which is basically my favorite hobby anyway.—

Lando shuddered dramatically, pulling his knees up to his chest as if she were currently attempting to attack him with her cold feet right this second. He looked toward Charlie for support, but the little dog was too busy chewing on his own paw to care about Lando’s upcoming psychological trauma.

—You are a literal monster,— Lando muttered, shaking his head with an amused grin. —That should be classified as a war crime, honestly.—

—It's called resourcefulness,— she retorted playfully, emerging from the closet with her heavy travel jacket slung over her arm.

For the next couple of rounds, the ridiculous questions continued to bounce back and forth between them while the room slowly became emptier. Amelie had finally taken her hair out of the white towel, letting the damp waves fall loosely around her shoulders while she quickly pulled on a comfortable pair of grey sweatpants for the long journey ahead. Their massive suitcases were finally completely zipped up and pushed neatly by the door, sitting side by side like silent reminders that their little pocket of peace was about to expire.

Lando rolled over on his stomach, resting his chin on his hands as he watched her apply a final layer of lip balm in front of the mirror.

—Okay, would you rather...— Lando started, the question dropping from his lips completely casually, not even thinking about the weight of the words before they left his mouth. —...marry me tomorrow, or not marry me at all?—

Amelie stopped her movements instantly, her hand freezing completely mid-air with the lip balm pressed lightly against her bottom lip. She stood perfectly still for a second, her brain trying to process the sudden shift in the room's atmosphere, before she slowly turned around to look at him.

—What did you just say?— she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper because she wasn't entirely sure she had heard him correctly.

Lando didn't blink, his expression remaining surprisingly soft as he kept his eyes locked entirely on hers, repeating the question without a single shred of hesitation.

—Would you rather marry me tomorrow... or not marry me at all?—

The hotel room fell into an immediate, heavy silence, the playful banter from before completely evaporating into the air between them. Amelie simply stared at him, her heart thumping against her ribs because she obviously knew the answer—she would marry him tomorrow, in a heartbeat, without needing a single second to think about it. But before she even had the chance to open her mouth to speak, a sharp, loud knock on the heavy wooden door abruptly interrupted them.

Amelie blinked, the spell breaking instantly as she looked over her shoulder toward the entryway. The sudden noise seemed to echo far too loudly inside the quiet suite, scattering the heavy gravity of Lando's question before she could even find her voice to answer it.

Lando let out a slow, quiet breath and sat up on the edge of the mattress, his fingers automatically rubbing the back of his neck as he watched her move. Charlie jumped off the bed entirely this time, his claws clicking against the hardwood floor as he trotted curiously toward the front door to investigate the new arrival.

Amelie smoothed down the front of her grey sweatpants, taking a small breath to steady her racing heart before she finally reached out and turned the handle. The heavy door swung open to reveal the familiar face of their lead security detail standing in the hallway, an official schedule brief clutched firmly in his hand.

—Sorry to interrupt, guys,— the security guard said politely, offering a brief, apologetic nod as his eyes flicked between the two of them. —But the transport vehicles are officially downstairs in the courtyard, and the airport team wants us moving now if we’re going to clear the private terminal ahead of schedule. We should probably get moving.—

—Yeah, no worries, we’re entirely ready,— Amelie replied smoothly, stepping back into the room to let the team handle the heavy lifting.

She turned back toward the main living area, watching two other security guards step inside to efficiently lift their tightly zipped suitcases from beside the door. They passed their heavy luggage over without saying another word, the logistics of their chaotic lives seamlessly taking over the small, private world they had been sharing only moments earlier.

Amelie crouched down onto the carpet to slip Charlie’s harness over his head, adjusting the straps carefully before clipping his leather leash onto the metal ring. The little dog tail-wagged with pure excitement, completely oblivious to the emotional tension that was currently hanging thick in the air between his owners.

—I’ll just grab the wallet and the room keys off the counter,— Lando muttered, his voice sounding slightly lower than usual as he walked toward the desk.

Amelie stood back up and waited patiently near the threshold, holding Charlie's leash firmly in one hand while she watched her boyfriend check the drawers one last time. Lando pocketed the plastic keycards, pulled his baseball cap low over his eyes, and finally closed the heavy suite door behind them with a definitive click.

The hallway was completely silent as they began the long walk toward the elevators, the security team moving a comfortable distance ahead of them with the luggage. Amelie kept her eyes fixed straight ahead on the carpet pattern, her fingers tightening around the leather leash while the silence between them stretched out, feeling longer with every single step.

She took a quiet, steadying breath, suddenly realizing she couldn't possibly let another minute pass without giving him the response he deserved. Without breaking her stride, Amelie reached out with her free hand and firmly wrapped her fingers around Lando’s hand, squeezing his palm tightly to get his full attention.

—I would definitely rather tomorrow,— she said softly, her voice steady and completely clear despite the echo of the empty corridor around them.

Lando paused for a fraction of a second, his steps faltering slightly on the carpet as he turned his head to look down at her in complete confusion.

—What?— he asked, his brow furrowing beneath the rim of his dark cap as he tried to figure out what she was talking about.

Amelie offered him a beautiful, incredibly genuine smile, her eyes shining with absolute certainty as she squeezed his hand even tighter against her side.

—The 'would you rather' question you dropped back in the room,— she explained gently, looking right into his eyes. —I would rather marry you tomorrow than never marry you at all, Lando. Just so you know.—

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 1,827,392 others lando: life lately 👍

user9 LANDOSCAR 🧡🧡🧡 user10 he looks so happy what is happening

user 11 YN LIKED THIS POST user12 OMG ARE THEY BACK ARE THEY BACK ARE THEY BACK

user13 landoyn nation we have been so patient and SO faithful user14 WE'RE SOOO BACK user15 they were endgame two years ago they're endgame now

user16 or guys they could be js friends... user17 shhh

user18: ariana what are you doing user19 bro i was just scrolling and saw yn liked this and had to sit down

liked by 47,283 others f1gossip …is lando norris back with his ex, influencer yn ln? 👀 she liked and unliked his recent post but not before the entire internet caught it. no statements from either side

user19 "THEY NEVER BROKE UP IN THE FIRST PLACE" i shout as im dragged to the mental hospital user20 i need them back together user 21 they were so power couple in 2022 user22 she knew EXACTLY what she was doing

user23: leave them alone they broke up for a reason user24: the reason being they were young and busy, they're older now

user25 yn liking lando norris's post is not something i had on my 2025 bingo card

liked by pietra.pilao and 1,209,384 others yourusername hbd to @ pietra.pilao 🎂🤍

pietra.pilao i love you more than words 😭 liked by creator

user26 i didn't know pietra & yn were still friends after she broke up w/ lando user27 me neither, but im glad they're friends!

user28 PIETRA POSTED A STORY AND LANDO IS THERE. AT THE SAME DINNER. user29 she knows. they all know. we all know user30 yn and lando at the same birthday dinner after two years of nothing. user31 this is a slow burn in real life user32 address the elephant in the room.

liked by 89,443 others f1gossip multiple sources at the birthday dinner confirm both yn ln and lando norris were in attendance. they were seen entering the resturant. no photos of them together have surfaced

user32  lando showing up to pietra's birthday and not running away from yn is CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT user33 WE ARE SOOO BACK LANDOYN NATION user34 i've been praying for these days since 2024 user35 the universe is a romance author user36 they were both invited and both showed up. they want to see each other. i said what i said.

STORY REPLIES:

user35 what the

user36 YN WHO'S HAND IS THAT user37 yn's mystery man??

user38 i swear if that's lando's hand. user39 i am on my knees

liked by 91,847 others f1gossip update: yn ln and lando norris have followed each other on instagram

user40 THEY FOLLOWED EACH OTHER user41 after TWO YEARS of not following each other. user42 omg the guy on her story HAS to be lando user43 it matters SO much actually user44 landoyn nation we have been in the trenches for two years user45 one shower away from getting married user46 OH THIS IS SERIOUS

liked by pietra.pilao, alexandramalenaleclerc, and 1,348,938 others yourusername 🇨🇭

user47 i'm screaming user48 wait this is actually the first time she's posted him since the breakup isn't it user49 OH MY GOD

user50 yn posting lando norris after two years? user51 we used to dream about moments like this

user52 landoyn nation stand up user53 omg did they go on a trip tg? user54 WE NEVER LEFT user55 yn posted lando norris again before gta 6 user56 she really said "here damn" user57 imagine telling me six months ago they'd be in switzerland together alexandramalenaleclerc 🤍 liked by creator user58 lando and yn in the same friend group again feels illegal

liked by oscarpiastri, maxfewtrell and 2,037,284 others lando trip to switzerland

user59 bro posted everything except yn 😭 user60 everybody shut up i'm connecting dots

user61 lando were you the photographer lando for most of it 👍 user62 did you take yn's photos too

liked by 43,927 f1gossip fans have noticed the pair spending an increasing amount of time together in recent months. sources claim the pair have been seen hanging out multiple times.

user63 they've gone from "haven't spoken in two years" to "vacationed together" to "hanging out in monaco" user64 I FEEL SICK

user65 i don't think they're officially together. user66 YET u mean...

user65 landoyn nation has suffered enough user66 if they're not dating then why are they acting like divorced parents slowly falling in love again user67 something is DEFINITELY happening user68 bro we were surviving off crumbs for MONTHS

user69 i don't think they're together. user70 i do.

liked by lando, carmenmmundt, lilymhe, and 4,283,918 others yourusername alexa play "bad idea right?" by olivia rodrigo

user71 SHUT THE FUCK UP user72 OH THEY'RE BACK BACK user73 THEM KISSING OH MY GOD user74 THIS IS ACTUALLY INSANE user75 ALRIGHT EVERYONE PACK IT UP user76 WE WON

lilymhe my faves liked by creator yourusername ilysm

user77 am i dreaming user78 i've waited two years for this. lando thought we agreed not to tell anyone liked by creator

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, and 5,283,948 others lando apparently, accidents happen

user79 this healed something in me. user80 LANDO NORRIS POSTED A GIRL user81 i'm glad they found each other again. user82 they are SO right person, wrong time user83 i just know bro had this caption saved in his notes app maxfewtrell about time liked by creator user83 THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE. user84 THE SWITZERLAND GROUP PHOTO WALKED SO THIS POST COULD RUN. user85 bro has been in love this entire time

yourusername i liked one post and suddenly i'm in your passenger seat again liked by creator lando you made it sound like i kidnapped you.

user86 this genuinely feels like seeing your parents get back together

The bastard was enjoying this.

“Oh, absolutely,” you said through gritted teeth, forcing a smile so stiff it could’ve cracked. “Every day is a surprise.”

Lando finally glanced at you, and for a split second, you saw it—the spark of amusement in his eyes, the quiet little I’m having fun and you can’t stop me glint.

You hated it.

You hated him.

But the villa was ridiculous.

Not just nice—insultingly nice. The kind of nice that made you question every choice you’d ever made in your life. The terrace stretched out over the water like it was showing off. There was a glass slide straight into the ocean, an infinity pool that blended into the horizon, an outdoor shower, two separate bathrooms (mercifully), and enough space to host three families, a wedding, and maybe a small cult.

It was paradise.

And you hated that you were seeing it with him.

The second the employees left, you spun toward Lando.

“What the hell was that?”

Lando dropped his bag onto the floor like he owned the place. “What was what?”

“‘Two months’?” you repeated, voice rising. “Where did you even get two months from?”

He shrugged, completely unbothered. “Sounded believable.”

“Believable?”

“What was I supposed to say?” he shot back. “‘Actually, we’ve known each other for years and can’t stand one another, but our friends got food poisoning and sent us on their honeymoon instead’?”

You opened your mouth.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

“…Well, maybe not like that.”

“Exactly,” he said, like he’d just won a debate on national television.

“That doesn’t mean you get to invent an entire marriage!”

“Oh, come on,” he said, already wandering deeper into the villa like a man on vacation. “It’s harmless.”

“Harmless?”

“Yes.”

“You made me your wife.”

Lando paused mid‑step.

Turned.

Looked genuinely confused.

“You already were my wife.”

The room went still.

You stared at him.

He stared back.

Three long, painful seconds passed.

Then something flickered across his face—realization, horror, embarrassment, all at once.

“Oh.”

Your eye twitched. “Oh?”

You should’ve known something was wrong the moment you walked into the Quadrant studio and saw Max smiling.

Max never smiled like that unless he was about to ruin someone’s day.

“Morning!” he chirped.

You narrowed your eyes. “What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Max.”

He grinned wider. “Okay, maybe something.”

Lando walked in behind you, yawning, hoodie half on, hair a mess, looking like he’d rolled straight out of bed and into chaos.

“What’s happening?” he mumbled.

Max clapped his hands. “Today’s video is… drumroll please… 24 HOURS HANDCUFFED TO YOUR GIRLFRIEND!”

Lando blinked.

Then blinked again.

Then turned to you slowly.

“No.”

You crossed your arms. “Why not?”

“Because I’ll die.”

You raised a brow. “From what?”

“From… proximity.”

You snorted. “You literally cling to me in your sleep.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“That’s unconscious affection. This is conscious torture.”

Ria walked in holding the handcuffs. “Too late. We already bought props.”

Aarav added, “And snacks.”

Lando groaned. “I hate all of you.”

You patted his cheek. “You’ll survive.”

He looked at the handcuffs like they were a death sentence. “I won’t.”

---

THE HANDCUFFING

Max snapped the cuffs around your wrist first, then Lando’s.

The click echoed like a prison door slamming shut.

Lando stared at your joined wrists. “This is a mistake.”

You tugged lightly. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

He stumbled forward. “Warn me before you move!”

“You’re dramatic.”

“I’m traumatised.”

Ria handed you both mics. “Okay, rules: you must stay handcuffed for 24 hours. No cheating. No unlocking. No cutting the chain.”

Aarav added, “And you have to do normal daily tasks.”

Lando’s eyes widened. “What tasks?”

Max smirked. “Oh, you’ll see.”

---

TASK 1 — MAKE COFFEE

You walked toward the kitchen.

Lando tripped over his own feet.

“Stop dragging me!”

“I’m walking normally.”

“You’re walking aggressively.”

You rolled your eyes. “Just hold my hand.”

He froze. “What?”

“Hold my hand. It’ll be easier.”

He hesitated for exactly one second before intertwining your fingers like he’d been waiting his whole life.

“Better?” you asked.

He nodded, cheeks pink. “Shut up.”

You reached for the coffee machine.

Lando reached too.

Your hands collided.

“OW—baby—your ring stabbed me!”

“You put your hand under mine!”

“You’re violent.”

“You’re dramatic.”

He sighed. “This is going to be a long day.”

---

TASK 2 — GAMING

Aarav set up the sim rigs.

“You two have to complete one lap,” he said.

Lando stared. “Handcuffed?”

“Yes.”

“That’s illegal.”

You climbed into the seat. Lando climbed in after you, awkwardly, your joined hands tangling in the seatbelt.

“Move your elbow.”

“You move your elbow.”

“Your elbow is in my rib.”

“Your rib is in my elbow.”

Max wheezed behind the camera.

Finally, you managed to start the lap.

Lando steered with one hand.

You shifted gears with the other.

It was chaos.

You crashed into a wall.

Lando screamed. “YOU DID THAT!”

“You pulled left!”

“You pulled right!”

“You’re impossible!”

“You’re beautiful!”

You blinked. “What?”

He froze. “What?”

“You said—”

“No I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“I didn’t.”

Max whispered, “The camera heard it.”

Lando groaned. “I hate this challenge.”

---

TASK 3 — GROCERY SHOPPING

Ria insisted you go to the shop.

Handcuffed.

In public.

Lando kept your joined hands tucked into his hoodie pocket like he was hiding contraband.

“People are staring,” he muttered.

“They’re staring because you look suspicious.”

“I’m trying to protect our dignity.”

“You’re failing.”

He glared. “You’re enjoying this.”

“A little.”

He sighed dramatically. “I knew it.”

You reached for a carton of milk.

Lando reached too.

Your hands collided again.

“OW—stop hitting me!”

“You’re in my way!”

“You’re in MY way!”

“You’re taller!”

“That’s not my fault!”

A little old lady walked by and said, “Young love is adorable.”

Lando nearly died on the spot.

---

TASK 4 — NAP TIME

Back at the studio, Max announced, “Next task: take a nap.”

Lando perked up. “Finally. Something I’m good at.”

You lay on the couch first.

Lando lay beside you, awkwardly, trying to find a position where your joined hands didn’t twist.

He ended up half on top of you.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“It’s fine.”

He shifted.

His nose brushed your neck.

You shivered.

He froze. “Did I—did you—was that—”

“Just sleep, Lando.”

He buried his face in your shoulder.

Within minutes, he was out cold, breathing softly against your skin, your hands still tangled together.

Max whispered, “He’s literally a golden retriever.”

Ria whispered, “She’s his emotional support human.”

Aarav whispered, “This is disgustingly cute.”

You whispered, “Shut up.”

But you didn’t move.

Not even a little.

---

THE NIGHT — TOO CLOSE, TOO SOFT

By the time the 24 hours were almost up, you were both exhausted.

You sat on the studio floor, leaning against the wall, Lando’s head resting on your shoulder.

He was quiet.

Too quiet.

“You okay?” you asked softly.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“You’re being weird.”

He sighed. “I liked today.”

You blinked. “You… liked being handcuffed to me?”

He nodded again, slower this time. “I like being close to you.”

Your chest tightened. “Lando…”

He looked up at you, eyes soft, tired, honest. “I know I’m dramatic and annoying and I trip over everything, but… being stuck to you wasn’t bad. It was… nice.”

You brushed his hair back. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

You leaned your forehead against his. “I liked it too.”

He smiled — small, sleepy, real.

“Good,” he whispered.

---

THE UNCUFFING

Max finally unlocked the cuffs.

Your wrist felt light.

Lando flexed his hand dramatically. “Freedom.”

You laughed. “You survived.”

He looked at you.

Then took your hand again — voluntarily this time.

“I didn’t say I wanted to stop touching you,” he murmured.

Your heart did a very stupid, very dramatic flip.

“You’re ridiculous,” you whispered.

He kissed your cheek. “You love it.”

You squeezed his hand. “Yeah. I do.”

ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ - ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʟʟᴏᴡ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ.

The comments under McLaren’s posts were flooding in, most of them riding the vegan joke. People were being incredibly creative, but you knew the team was not amused.

Two days later, they sent you in to scold him. Again. By now it was routine, they kept choosing you because you two had become something like friends, you were close in age, and they thought he’d actually listen to you. They repeated the talking points one more time and sent you in.

Lando was already there, sitting in the small meeting room, phone in hand. He looked like a kid who knew he was in trouble but was still a little proud of himself. When you walked in, he put the phone down.

“Hi, Lando,” you said, sitting down across from him.

“Hey,” he replied, giving you a small smile.

You kept your voice steady and professional, exactly as they’d instructed.

“Lando, we cannot allow you to be seen wearing a t-shirt with such a message. It’s inappropriate, it damages the team’s public image, and it puts our sponsors in a very uncomfortable position. We have a responsibility to maintain professionalism, especially when you’re easily recognizable...”

You actually managed to stay serious through most of it. Lando was biting the inside of his cheek, trying not to smile. But the longer you spoke, the more ridiculous the whole situation felt.

“So from now on, we need you to think more carefully about what you wear when you might be filmed and...”

A small snort escaped you.

You tried to hold it together, but it was too late. Lando broke first, laughing, and then you followed, both of you cracking up.

“Wait ... I broke character,” you said, still laughing as you covered your face for a second. “Why do they keep sending me? They know I find this stuff funny instead of actually scolding you properly. You need someone who’s going to shake some sense into you.”

You tried to pull yourself together. “But seriously, we can’t have this. People online might find it funny, but it’s not good for the sponsors. You can do whatever you want in your free time, but you have to be smarter about who you’re with and what you’re doing when cameras are around. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said, still amused. “I’ll stop. I’ll be good, I promise.”

“That’s what you told me last time too,” you reminded him, half laughing, half serious. “I’m laughing with you, but I’m also serious. You understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said playfully. Then his tone shifted a little. “You know… I saw some old photos on your Instagram. You looked like a real party animal back then.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “What? Are you stalking my Instagram? And I still haven’t deleted those?”

“Oh come on,” he laughed. “I know you’re still a party girl at heart. It’s funny that you’re the one scolding me for having fun.”

“I’m not scolding you for having fun,” you said. “I’m scolding you because you got filmed wearing a t-shirt that says ‘eat pussy it’s vegan’. That’s not a good PR look, even if it’s funny.”

Lando leaned forward, smirking. “Come on… ‘eat pussy it’s vegan’? You have to admit it’s a good one.”

You shook your head, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah, it’s bold. So… you’re actually a munch?”

The question came out more direct than you intended, but you’d always been pretty straightforward with him.

“Yeah,” he said seriously. “I am.”

You felt your ears getting warm. “From what I’ve seen online, girls go crazy over that. So you might lose some points with PR, but you probably gained a lot in your DMs.”

Lando held your gaze. “Do you like it too?”

Your heart skipped. “What?”

“A guy who’s a munch,” he clarified, voice lower.

You swallowed, suddenly a little shy. “What woman doesn’t?”

He smiled slowly. “If you want a demonstration, you can verify whenever you want.”

Was Lando Norris actually flirting with you? Of course he was, he flirted with everyone. Still, you knew what type of guy he was. You weren’t about to fall for it.

“No, thank you,” you said quickly.

“Oh come on,” he pushed gently. “I know deep down you’re a fun person. That’s why they always send you. We have the same humor. You get me, even when you have to deliver all the PR lines.”

“And what exactly do you want from me, Lando?”

“To go out with me. Have some actual fun. I know you’re bored of this PR shit too.”

“Are you insane?” you asked, half laughing, half shocked. “Do you want me to lose my job?”

He clocked you immediately. “You’re not saying no because you’re not interested. You’re saying no because of the job.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it.

Lando leaned in with that dangerous little grin. “How about you come to my driver’s room for a little demonstration of my ‘vegan era’?”

You stared at him, completely caught off guard. A nervous laugh escaped you.

“You’re actually serious right now?”

“Dead serious,” he said, eyes locked on yours.

You shook your head, heart racing. “Lando… this is insane. I can’t just...”

“You can,” he cut in softly. “No one has to know. Thirty minutes. Just us.”

You bit your lip, looking away for a second. Every logical part of your brain was screaming at you to shut this down immediately. This was your job. Your reputation. Your future at McLaren. But there was also this stupid, curious, tired-of-being-responsible part of you that was… tempted.

You let out a long breath and rubbed your temple.

“I’m going to regret this,” you muttered.

Lando’s smirk grew, but he stayed quiet, letting you think. You looked back at him, serious now.

“Fine. But only if you swear and I mean actually swear that you will not cause any PR mess for the rest of the season. No stupid shirts, no viral videos, no drama. Nothing. That’s my only condition. If you break this, I’m done. This never happens again and I stop covering for you.”

Lando didn’t hesitate. He extended his hand toward you, expression more sincere than usual.

“I swear. Best behavior until the end of the season. You have my word.”

You stared at his hand for a few long seconds, still fighting with yourself. Then, slowly, you reached out and shook it.

“Okay,” you said quietly, almost like you couldn’t believe what you were agreeing to. “Thirty minutes. You go first. I’ll come after.”

After you left the room, you told him you’d come by in thirty minutes. First you had to face the rest of the PR team.

“So?” your boss asked as soon as you walked in.

“He won’t cause any more PR issues. He learned his lesson and swore he’ll behave.”

“And we should believe him?” someone else asked.

“I think so. I was harder on him this time. Really tried to scare him a bit,” you said.

Your boss nodded. “Good. I knew sending you was the right call, you’re the only one he actually listens to. If he keeps his word and stays clean, I’ll put you up for a promotion and a raise. You’ve been doing excellent work.”

That was exactly the motivation you needed.

But now you had to figure out how to keep Lando in line for the rest of the season. Easier said than done.

More than thirty minutes passed while you finished talking with the team. You finally slipped away, heart racing. You felt like you were back in high school sneaking out, except this time you were sneaking in. You checked left, right, behind you, then quietly opened the door to his driver’s room and stepped inside.

Lando was waiting.

“You’re late,” he said, amused.

“I was busy lying to my boss about how well you took the scolding,” you muttered. “Listen, Lando, if you actually behave until the end of the season, they’re giving me a promotion. I’ve only been here two months. This is huge for me. So please… be on your best behavior. Let me have this.”

You kept talking, nervous and rambling, until Lando stepped forward. He gently pushed you backward onto the small sofa in his driver’s room, spreading your legs. The moment his palm pressed over your pants, right against your pussy, your words died in your throat.

You were already getting wet. He could feel it.

Lando smirked at your reaction, he’d liked you from the first day.

He worked your jeans down slowly, leaving you in just your panties and team kit top. His eyes raked over you.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he murmured.

“What are you doing?” you breathed.

“A demonstration,” he said, teasing your pussy over the thin fabric with his fingers until your hips jerked against his hand.

He got tired of the teasing, hooked your panties to the side, then pulled them off completely. He spread your legs wide, staring.

“What a pretty pussy,” he whispered, voice rough. “Looks delicious.”

“Is it vegan?” you managed to tease, voice shaky.

“We’ll have to try it and find out.”

He lowered his head. You felt his hot breath on your clit first, then his tongue : slow, warm, and devastating. He licked a long stripe up your folds before focusing on your clit, sucking it between his lips and flicking his tongue.

You slapped a hand over your mouth to keep quiet. The walls were thin.

Lando ate you like you were his last meal. He wasn’t lying. He worked your clit with perfect pressure, sliding two thick fingers inside you, curling them against that spot that made your vision blur. Your thighs shook around his head as the first orgasm crashed over you hard. You came on his tongue, biting your palm to muffle the moan.

He didn’t stop.

Even as you twitched from oversensitivity, he kept licking and fingering you slower, deeper, until a second, even stronger orgasm ripped through you. By the time he finally pulled back, you were trembling and boneless on the sofa.

Lando wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking incredibly satisfied. Your pussy was still pulsing. He gave it a light, playful slap that made you jolt, then grabbed the towel he’d wisely placed earlier and some tissues. He cleaned you up slowly and gently, careful because you were so sensitive, then leaned in and kissed your hair.

“So?” you asked breathlessly. “Was it vegan?”

“Hell yeah,” he grinned. “But I’ll need to try it again to be completely sure.”

You laughed weakly. “That was a one-time thing, Norris…But if you actually stay good until the end of the season like you promised, I might let you do it again.”

To be fair, you're almost certain you have a concussion. The room spins every time you move your head. Your wrist hurts. Your shoulder hurts. Your ego is definitely bruised.

The entire situation is deeply unpleasant.

"Miss?"

You blink. The nurse is still standing there, clipboard in hand.

"Emergency contact?"

Right. That. You frown.

The question seems simple enough. Unfortunately, your brain currently resembles scrambled eggs. Your parents live hours away, your brother never answers his phone, most of your friends are at work. The only number you know by heart appears immediately, without thinking you recite it.

The nurse writes it down.

"Relationship?"

You hesitate. The guy you sleep with? A situationship? The person who somehow knows exactly what mood you're in from a single text message, the person you call when you're happy, the person you call when you're sad, the person you call when you've locked yourself out of your apartment...

"Friend."

The nurse nods then leaves. And you immediately fall asleep.

The next time you wake up, somebody is holding your hand.

For one terrifying second, you think you're dying. Then you recognize the watch, and the hand it's attached to.

"Lando?"

The ridiculous amount of concern on his face dissipates almost immediately, his shoulders drop, eyes close briefly, as though somebody has released a pressure valve.

"Oh, thank God."

Your throat feels dry.

"What are you doing here?"

He stares.

"You called me."

"No, I didn't."

"You literally did."

You try to think, but the concentration comes with pain and you quickly come to regret it.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Oh."

"You look awful."

His mouth falls open. You smile weekly. The sting is worth it.

A few hours later, you learn what happened. Apparently, you slipped on wet pavement, hit your head and fractured your wrist. Also scared several pedestrians.

The most important part, however, is apparently what happened next. Because according to the nurse, Lando arrived in under twenty minutes. Twenty. Which should not have been possible. You tell him this. He says:

"I drove fast."

"Lando."

"What?"

"You absolutely broke traffic laws."

"Allegedly."

"And you put your life in danger."

"Maybe."

You sigh.

For a moment everything feels normal again, then you notice the dark circles beneath his eyes and how he hasn't left since coming here and how he insists on bringing you snacks and water and fixing your pillows... And suddenly something feels different.

"You were scared."

The words leave your mouth with a slight smile. Lando freezes, briefly, but long enough. You know exactly what his tells look like.

"What?"

"You were scared."

"I'm fine."

"Lando."

"I'm fine."

"You look like you haven't breathed in six hours."

His jaw tightens. Silence settles between you.

"You weren't answering your phone."

Your chest hurts And for once it has nothing to do with the accident.

"I know."

"They told me you hit your head."

You look away.

"They told me you lost consciousness."

The room suddenly feels much quieter.

"I know."

"I thought it was worse."

Your heart breaks a little, because he says it so softly.

"I thought..." His voice falters. "I don't know."

Suddenly everything makes sense, the panic, the speed, the hand he's still holding, the way he looked when you woke up. Friends care, of course they do, but this feels different, like having something to lose.

"Lando."

He looks up. There are a hundred ways to ask. You choose honesty - the thing you've been avoiding for months. 

"Would you have been this worried about anybody else?"

"No."

The air leaves your lungs.

There it is. The thing neither of you has wanted to say. Lando notices your expression, horrified; he has revealed too much.

"You don't have to say anything." 

You laugh, because somehow he's still trying to protect you.

"Lando."

"Seriously."

"You drove across the city because I fell over."

"You got a concussion."

"You looked ready to fight the nurse."

"She wasn't explaining things properly."

The tension cracks, you squeeze his hand - the one still holding yours; the one neither of you has let go of. And finally you say the thing you've both known for far too long.

"I really like you."

For a second, he simply stares. Then:

"Yeah?"

The smile that follows could power entire cities.

"Yeah."

His laugh is half relief, half disbelief.

"Good."

"Good?"

"Good."

You shake your head. 

Lando Norris. The idiot who drove across the city because a hospital called. The idiot who somehow found his way into every important part of your life.

"You're still my emergency contact."

His grin grows.

"That's the romantic thing anyone's ever said to me."

"You are unbelievable."

"I know."

And for the first time since the accident, everything feels okay.

“And pray tell me, why am I here on a Thursday morning?” You asked, not exactly amused by the fact at having been dragged trackside on Media Day at 10 in the morning.

You eyed the supercar, then Mclaren’s social media admin and then Lando who was trying to hide the helmet he usually used for Hot Laps.

“No.”

Crossing your arms in front of your chest you glared at him.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!” he deadpanned.

As if you needed him to explain more. This boy truly was acting like you didn’t know him like the back of your hand.

“Then please oh wise one, tell me that you weren’t trying to trick me into doing a Hot Lap with you,”

The silence following told you everything you needed.

“Do I at least get to drive?”

Admin, Andrea and the Fia person all, simultaneously perked up, stared hard at Lando who was about to fold like paper, and wildly shook their heads as a no.

“Uhm, no?”

Such party poopers.

Papaya Fam agreed.

2. Lando has lost a bet. What’s even worse was that he was the one to suggest it and now he lost it.

The bet? You cracking his lap time on any F1 track he put in on his sim rig. And easy enough task that he surely would not be loosing.

Well he did not expect you to completely shred his own time by almost half a second, otherwise he would not have given you free range on how he’d leave for the airport in about 3 days.

Because if he had known that you’d rock up with a shark onesie, he would not have made that bet.

The fact that there were 2 of them shocked him however. Because why? Were you trying to see which one fit better or what was the reason, cause as far as he knew you were aware of his sizes and all. So why the second onesie?

Very quickly it became evident that while a menace, you weren’t evil when you walked out of the airport restroom dressed in the other one. Mark, his manager, nearly chocked on his spit when he saw you two. Not knowing if he should laugh or cry because this would without a doubt cause a meeting within McLaren.

It ended with one shark carrying the other on his back like a backpack towards the gate for their flight to London.

3. That Lando is famous for stopping for fans was no secret. It was one of the few characteristics of his that was widely appreciated throughout all fans of Formula 1.

As much as he was disliked by some, as much were they aware that Lando was a pro when it came to fan service.

Heartwarming, sweet, funny. He was nothing short of a pro when it came to it as long as he wasn’t followed in his private time.

And when he walked into the door of the McLaren team hub in Barcelona 25 because he was to distracted smiling at a young girl, it quickly became a moment that, unfortunately for him, was caught in at least 4 different angles on camera.

Jon had very nearly keeled over from laughing and Lando, ever the one to play it up, did exactly that.

Now, the moment, while forever on the internet, would most likely not have been followed by as much traction had there not been another moment about 10 minutes after.

That was when you, distracted by your phone because of your mom, walked right into the exact same door.

The door shook, vibrating at the hinges as you bounced back, and seemed just a tad bit confused while Lily who was right behind you and talking to someone from Oscars side of the team, cut herself off mid-sentence to laugh.

With significantly les cameras pointed at you then on Lando, there also were less angles of you hitting the door.

But the side by side comparison edits still went a little viral.

4. The obligatory post session debrief for social media was something neither Lando nor Oscar could escape from. Admin simply was to fast for them to do so.

And while Lando paranoid as he was when it came to you, saw to it that you were far away from Admin as possible if he could help it, sometimes Admin still caught you in the back of the video.

And sometimes Admin caught you loudly yelling over a cat on the other side of the sidewalk while Lando gave his opinion on the session.

“Look Lan, kitty!”

The suddenly call out had not just the brit startled and caught off guard, but also Admin. Who almost dropped the camera in the process.

A little flustered he huffed a laugh, eyes focused completely on you instead of the task at hand as he smiled fondly while shaking his head in amusement.

Admin got the scolding of his life when the video still made it onto Instagram and Tiktok.

5.Lando hated sand.

How it stuck to skin, how it got everywhere, how it made him feel, he hated it. And finding out that the Yoga shoot for Hilton was placed at the beach in front of the Hotel instead of an AC equipped room inside, he knew that sand would play a big role that day.

The only thing making it bearable, you. Because you managed to join for Miami that year and so you stayed a bit back but close enough to play in the water out of the shot.

Your best friend had already made fun of you for it when you, baggy jeans rolled up as high as possible to your thighs, squatted in the sand. Feet bare. Building a little sand castle and decoration it with seashells you had found in the water.

In retaliation and impressively without looking, you flipped him off and shooed him away to get in position.

He knew he’d find you in the same position again because once you focused on something, you stuck to it. And just as he thought, you were still squatting there when he came back.

Now Lando had a thing for chaos. For pranks and fun. And for getting on your nerves at times.

And so, distracted as you were while drawing a little sun in the sand, he snuck up behind you poked you in the sides and caused you to flinch so hard you fell over and into the water.

Your hands, your jeans, all wet and soaked.

Cursing loud and colorful, you tackled him into the water.

@_f1 gossip:

📹 Lando Norris was out last night, taking one of his friends shirt that says: “EAT PUSSY IT’S VEGAN.”

user1: sir??? the shirt says what ???

user2: not him wearing it like he’d been waiting his entire life for that exact shirt

user3: whoever filmed this needs an award 😭

user4: he knew. HE KNEW what he was doing.

user5: his pr team is currently drafting a resignation letter

user6: he needs to get on his knees and prove it

user7: don't ask me the color of anything

user8: well we like men who are ready to give heads

yourusername: god he is so unserious

liked by @_lando

user9: NOT THE LIKE????

user10: y/n, babe, you have approximately thirty seconds before he slides into your dms.

user11: wait...THE y/n? as in the girl he has been liking every single photo of since 2023??

user12: girl go get your man

Instagram DMs

lando: unserious?

yourusername: you swapped shirts with a stranger in a club because you thought the slogan was funny

lando: not just funny it suited me

yourusername: that is exactly why you’re unserious

lando: i have talents, you know

yourusername: being a menace is not a talent

lando: i’m more talking about being talented at eating stuff

yourusername: lando.

lando: what? it's true, you don't belived me?

yourusername: you are genuinely terrible at flirting

lando: was that flirting?

yourusername: you tell me

lando: fine. wanna go eat dinner with me?

yourusername: no. for the fith time this month, no.

lando: no to dinner or no to me?

yourusername: yes.

lando: that is not an answer

yourusername: it is the only answer you deserve after that line

lando: harsh.

yourusername: accurate.

lando: so there’s no chance?

yourusername: there is a chance you learn how to flirt before trying again

lando: cruel. but fair

yourusername: goodnight, lando

lando: goodnight, future dinner date

yourusername: you're delusional

@_yourusername

Too spicy for you 🌶️

❤️ 186,492 likes liked by lando and others

user1: OH MY GOD. they’re communicating exclusively through shirt slogans now.

lando: I like spicy food

user3: this is the worst flirting I have ever witnessed and I need it framed in a museum.

user4: he took one look at that shirt and forgot how to act normal.

user5: “I like spicy food” sir this is a public comment section, please behave.

user6: no because they are having an entire conversation through clothing and captions 😭

user7 the way he said that like he has not already been rejected twice this week.

user8: someone confiscate his phone before he says something worse.

Instagram DMs

lando: wdym you’re too spicy for meeee?

yourusername: couldn’t handle me. it’s all norris

lando: whyyy?

yourusername: because.

lando: that is not an answer

yourusername: it’s the only one you’re getting

lando: please. just one date. just to show you i’m nice and funny

lando and then maybe more, eventually, to show you why i wore that shirt the other day…it’s a true passion

yourusername: what is, lando? wearing terrible shirts?

lando: no, you know what i mean

yourusername: if this is your attempt to imply you’re very talented at whatever that shirt was suggesting, this is actually terrible flirting

lando: why? you don’t you believe me?

yourusername: i don’t, actually

lando just so you know, i’ve had girls coming in seconds just from that

yourusername: they were just too polite to tell you it was shit, lando

lando: their legs shaking tell me otherwise darling

yourusername: most boys genuinely don’t have a clue what they’re doing

lando: not me, then

yourusername: you’re way too confident, lando

lando: confidence is attractive

yourusername: not when it’s completely unearned

lando: one date. i’ll prove it to you

yourusername: this is still a no

lando: you’re impossible

yourusername: keep dreaming, club-shirt thief

@_lando

Refuelling properly before the next one 🍓✈️ @onflightinternational

❤️ 942,817 likes liked by yourusername and others

user: not the pr-approved fruit post two days after the shirt incident 😭

user2: his team definitely said, “post something wholesome. make people forget the club video.”

user3: this is so aggressively out of character after seeing him take his shirt off for a man wearing that slogan

user4: lando norris promoting healthy eating while the entire internet remembers a very different definition of “vegan.”

user5: someone needs to tell him the fruit isn’t going to distract us. we saw the video, babe

user6: he’s trying way too hard to look innocent here

user7: “refuelling properly” SIR. after that week, you cannot use words like that casually

user8: i suddenly understand why y/n said he was unserious

yourusername: since when do you eat fruit?

lando: told you i’m vegan now 😉

user9: HE DID NOT

user10: they are still having their whole relationship through public comments. someone confiscate both their phones

user11: y/n walked directly into that one and he has been waiting for his chance all day

user12: lando, one normal post. that’s all we asked for

@_yourusername

The light was good so obviously i had to do a photoshoot

❤️ 241,883 likes liked by lando and others

user1: this is genuinely the most beautiful set of photos i have ever seen

user2: she saw a camera flash and turned it into a magazine cover. iconic behavior

user3: you were meant to be photographed forever, actually

user4: no because she is so effortlessly pretty it makes me angry

user5: the way she can make lying on a TV console look like high fashion???

user6: someone get this woman on the cover of vogue immediately

user7: oh she knew exactly what she was doing with these

lando: I wish I was this TV console btw

user8: LANDO????

user9: somebody take his phone. immediately.

user10: he is not even pretending to be subtle anymore 😭

user11: “btw” as if he did not just throw himself directly into the comment section

user12: lando norris has officially entered his public embarrassment era

user13: THEY ARE FLIRTING IN FRONT OF US AGAIN

Instagram DMs

yourusername: stop commenting stuff like that under my posts

lando: what? it’s true.

yourusername: lando.

lando: you look good just though you'll look even better under me

yourusername: please if we ever do it, I'm on top

lando: i'd love to see that, does that mean you wanna go out for a drink?

yourusername: no.

lando: oh directly going for the sex part, ok, i'm in for that as well

yourusername: you’re dreaming

lando: of you? yes. but you don't wanna know what sort of dream they are

yourusername: i have the image lando thank you very much

lando: good, you could think about it next time you touch yourself, goodnight love

yourusername: goodnight, lando...

@_yourusername Instagram Story

Out with friends tonight ✨

Instagram DMs

lando: which club are you going to?

yourusername: why?

lando: just curious

yourusername: you are never “just curious.”

lando: answer the question

yourusername: twiga

lando: what a surprise

yourusername: what?

lando: i’m there as well

yourusername: you are lying

lando: look to your left

yourusername: that is actually terrifying

lando: you look happy to see me

yourusername: i look concerned

lando: same thing, basically

lando: maybe you’ll see me later then

yourusername: i have seen you already. unfortunately

lando: hope you’re thirsty

yourusername: why?

lando: because i’m totally buying you a drink, or if you're thristy for something else, ask me...

yourusername: are you actually talking about sex?

lando: only if you want it to be

yourusername: lando...

lando: relax. we could have a drink first i’ll be charming and completely normal

yourusername: you have never been completely normal a day in your life

lando: but you’re still coming over?

yourusername: maybe.

lando: that’s basically a yes

yourusername: do not get ahead of yoursel

@_lando private Instagram Story

Your drink is waiting for you 🍸

Instagram DMs

yourusername: stop flirting.

lando: i’m not flirting i’m just saying facts

lando: wanna go get dessert then?

yourusername: why would i have dessert, lando?

lando: you are the dessert, darling

yourusername: god, again with that?

lando: i’m one hundred percent sure that if you let me show you how good i am with my mouth, you’d stop calling me insufferable

yourusername: i just don’t believe you. that’s all

lando: yeah? want me to prove it?

yourusername: you don’t have the guts to get on your knees for me in a club bathroom, lando

lando: oh, you think?

lando: just to remind you, i was shirtless in front of half of monaco wearing that ridiculous shirt a few days ago i’m not scared of this

lando: are you?

yourusername: you’re an idiot. what if people see?

lando: then they see i don’t care

yourusername: this is not me being interested, okay? i’m just tipsy and it’s been a long time

lando: don’t worry, sweetheart i’ll change your mind

yourusername: so sure of yourself, huh?

lando: oh, yeah

lando: seeing me between your legs will make you rethink every single mean things you’ve ever told me, baby.

yourusername: stop saying stuff like this.

lando: why? does it turn you on?

yourusername: we are in public, lando.

lando: then let’s go somewhere private

lando: unless you want me to eat you out on the table in the middle of the club's dancefloor

yourusername: stop.

lando: make me.

yourusername: bathroom. now.

lando: as you wish, ma’am

lando: i like when you give me orders

yourusername: just stop talking.

lando: already on my way

@_f1 gossip:

📸 Lando Norris and Y/N were spotted arriving at the same Monaco club separately, disappearing toward the bathrooms together, and leaving not long after.

user1: FINALLY HE SUCCEEDED 😭

user2: he spent years embarrassing himself in her comments and it actually worked???

user3: they went to the bathroom together and left twenty minutes later. i am choosing not to ask questions

user4: what the hell happened in that bathroom

user5: this man has been asking her out since the dawn of time. let him have this

user6: the way they left so soon after is sending me. like neither of them even tried to pretend

user7: i need everyone to remember that shirt from a few days ago because suddenly it feels less like a joke

user8: lando saw her saying “too spicy for you” and made it his life’s mission to prove her wrong

user9: the quickie in the batheroom must have been good for them to leave this fast

user10: the pr team is going to wake up, see these photos, and immediately regret letting him out

user11: i just know he is unbearably smug today

@_yourusername

He wasn’t wrong, he actually knows what he’s doing.

❤️ 518,204 likes liked by @_lando and others

user1: Y/N????? you cannot post this after disappearing into a club bathroom with him

user2: did she just publicly give him a five-star review???

user3: sooo it was that good huh? good for you honestly

user4: not the mysterious bathroom trip, the car make-out photos, and now THIS caption. i need a minute

user5: he was acting so confident with that shirt on and apparently he had a reason for it

user6: he 100% eat her out in that toilet cabin

user7: so what happened after she went home with him anyway?? the plot is plotting

user8: the club bathroom was apparently only the beginning because they left together SO fast

lando: could do it again anytime soon, baby 😉

liked by yourusername

user9: LANDO. THERE ARE PEOPLE HERE.

user9: he is never beating the allegations now

user10: at least we know what they did in that club bathroom

user11: he did went on his knees and prove it

user12: the smugness in this comment is actually outrageous

yourusername: you’re insufferable

lando: and yet you still let me prove my point

Usually the two of you managed pretty well. A perk of knowing one another for most of your life’s. One that had gifted you with the ability to almost smell when to stay out of his way, just like he was gifted, or rather crafted the same skill.

That skill of course didn’t mean that you never argued, no that was far from the case as in ever good friendship or relationship. However sometimes, when you were both exhausted, you were a little… let’s call it tone deaf when it came to reading the other 100% right.

And Zandvoort had come at a moment in life neither of you needed.

You had watched the race, had followed sitting on the floor in front of your shared couch with your laptop open because you originally needed to go through some files you hadn’t managed to work on Friday. Had heard the radio where Lando told Will about the smoke in the cockpit, about the oil leak and in the end saw the car roll to a stop at the side of the track.

Your heart had bled watching the picture of your best friends sunk together form in the dunes of the Netherlands.

And suddenly, Oscar held a 34 point gap.

The short video call you had once he was back in his hotel room, defeated and not in the mood to talk long, only solidified what you already had guessed. That he really had to chew on the fact that once again his hold on the title seemed to slip away from him.

Two days later, after the DNF and debrief in Woking, the door opened.

It was clear that Lando was still processing. Tense shoulders, a permanent frown etched into his face and barely making a sound all the evidence you needed to know.

Unfortunately, after a shift that had you running on fumes, you sported a head ache so big you were barely able to comprehend more then Gremlin walking all over your back as you were laid face down on the couch and the ding of the microwave announcing that your first meal of the day was hot now and ready to be taken out. You didn’t move a muscle, to tired to care about the rumbling of your stomach.

The brit, after grumbling a low hi, had vanished in his room for about half an hour before dragging himself into the kitchen.

You winced when he slammed one cabinet shut after the other, hinges screaming to be left alone and to have mercy as the noise made you flinch with every time it registered in your pained head.

The microwave dinged a second time.

Another cabinet slammed.

“Lando,” you groaned into the couch cushion, voice muffled. “For the love of it, would you please stop taking my kitchen apart?”

An answer that sounded suspiciously like a, “Yeah yeah.” reached your ears before another loud noise came from him.

You groaned. You didn’t want to have to suffer under his mood as you needed just one moment of peace that he was not willing to give and so you resigned yourself to your fate.

You pushed yourself up with a groan, rubbing at your eyes before shuffling toward the kitchen. Gremlin ran off.

“Lando, seriously—”

The sentence died halfway out of your mouth.

Because the kitchen looked like a crime scene.

Cabinet doors hung open. Drawers were half pulled out. A bag of pasta sat ripped open on the counter and somehow there was flour on the floor despite nobody having baked anything in this house for at least six months.

“Dont you have your prepped stuff in the fridge?” you asked.

“Don’t want that.”

“Well if you’re searching for pasta sauce here, we don’t have any in case you haven’t noticed already.”

“No shit sherlock.”

Oh wow, he really was pissy.

You stared at him.

“There’s food in the microwave.”

His eyes flicked toward it.

“That’s yours.”

Taking a breath to cool your frazzled nerves you marched over to the microwave, took the rest of yesterdays lasagna out and set it down in front of him. The smell of the warm dish hitting your nose and making your stomach lurch uncomfortably.

“Close the cabinets and eat it.”

You turned on your heels and went back to the living room.

The plate scratched over the marble counter. A noise not really loud but loud enough to send another wave of pain through you.

You squeezed your eyes shut. Inhale, hold for one, two, three, exhale slowly.

Another cabinet slammed.