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kathlare · 2 days ago

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Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: In the dazzling chaos of the Monaco Grand Prix weekend, a surprise appearance from the past threatens to shake Amelie’s confidence and peace.

Wordcount: 5.6 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

May 24th, 2025 - Monte Carlo, Monaco

liked by chaoticwags, ferrarigirlieee, and others

f1wagsgossip: Amelie Dayman arriving at the Monaco GP paddock today 💐✨

Miss Dayman herself back in her natural habitat — in heels, glam, and giving Monaco MAIN CHARACTER energy. The hair, the walk, the look?? She’s not here to play, she’s here to slay (and maybe distract a certain someone before quali 👀)

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chaoticwags: lando locking in p1 just bc he saw her walk in like that 😭 → norisimp: @chaoticwags he saw the brunette bombshell and remembered his purpose 💅 → gridgirlies: @chaoticwags he’s not racing, he’s fighting for his life rn 😭

ameliesno1fan: if i was lando i’d be kissing her feet rn no bc that entrance was OSCAR worthy → chaoticwags: @ameliesno1fan he probs already did that last night 😵‍💫 → wifeylan: @chaoticwags canon.

lanxmeliecore: Lando is not making eye contact with anyone but her and it shows 💀 → helmettales: @lanxmeliecore man’s locked in on his real trophy 😭

lanmelieupdates: amelie touching down in the paddock like a runway model??? lando stay focused pls 😭 → paddockclownery: @lanmelieupdates he’s using every brain cell not to trip in front of her rn

f1hotmess: magui showing up to the paddock the same day is WILDLY unserious → helmetbby: @f1hotmess girl the timing is insane i smell drama and hairspray

softlanmelie: imagine being magui seeing THAT walk in… i’d simply leave → paddocktea: @softlanmelie no bc Amelie’s heels alone ended that whole storyline

wifeyworn: Lando saw her and forgot what gear he was in 😭 → lanmelifan69: @wifeyworn he’s been stuck in “in love” since miami

gridglamour: Amelie owning the paddock like she built it herself 💅

gridtensionnn: magui in the paddock while amelie’s out here looking like monaco royalty?? someone call hbo → dramaonthegrid: @gridtensionnn this season of Drive to Survive writing itself i fear 😭

ameliewifed: THE STRUT. THE SUNGLASSES. THE HAIR. she didn’t walk she glided → paddockpower: @ameliewifed magui could never sorry not sorry

teawiththelads: not Lando ignoring the engineers cause she showed up mid-briefing 😭

yachtseason: she’s not just attending the GP, she IS the GP → lanlovr4ever: @yachtseason everyone else is just racing around HER

lanmeliedaily: Lando gonna post her later with a caption like “lucky me” just wait → paddockheartthrob: @lanmeliedaily and we’re gonna scream like it’s the first time 😭💘

brunettebarbie: brunette Amelie in Monaco… it’s giving ✨final boss energy✨ → lanlovr: @brunettebarbie lando’s ACTUALLY fighting for his life and the championship now

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The Monaco sun was as unforgiving as the press that clung to every corner of the paddock, and Amelie’s sunglasses weren’t doing much to protect her from either. She adjusted them anyway, fingers grazing the delicate chain hanging from her neck—the one Lando had given her in Japan when she told him his new hoodie design was “kind of ugly, but he looked hot in it.” He’d kissed her so hard for that one.

She smiled to herself, walking between the team garages, the buzz of activity—power tools, shouting engineers, the low hum of engines—thrumming in the air like a second heartbeat. On either side of her, Cisca and Adam Norris flanked her like proud but casual escorts, dressed effortlessly chic, both beaming as if she were already family. Well. She basically was.

Amelie wore a hot pink flower dress, her hair loosely falling against her back. She looked like Monaco royalty without even trying. Cameras had definitely noticed. But all she cared about was seeing her boyfriend—her stupid, ridiculous, annoyingly hot boyfriend.

—You nervous for quali?— Adam asked, breaking through her thoughts.

—Not for him. For the Ferrari strategists, yes. For Lan? Never.— She grinned.

Cisca laughed softly, placing a gentle hand on Amelie’s back as they reached the narrow stairs leading to the McLaren Hospitality. Amelie stepped toward the first step—then suddenly, someone grabbed her wrist.

Hard.

Before she could react, she was yanked sideways, into a narrow alley between two stacks of hospitality containers. She barely had time to register what was happening before her instincts kicked in and her fist almost flew...

—Ames, bloody hell!— Lando yelped, catching her wrist mid-air, his eyes wide.

—What the fuck, Lan?!— she hissed, her heart thundering. —You nearly got punched in the dick. Are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack?—

He was breathless, grinning, all boyish charm and ruffled curls. His race suit was peeled halfway down, the fireproof top sticking to his torso. God help her.

—You were forgetting something,— he said, voice low and teasing, eyes sparkling as he jutted his lips toward her. —A proper send-off kiss. For luck.—

She raised a brow, folding her arms.

—You don’t deserve a kiss after dragging me like that, idiot.—

Lando pouted. Actually pouted.

—C��mon, Ames. I’ve been so good. I even let Benny steal my toast this morning.—

Amelie rolled her eyes, suppressing the smile threatening to burst through.

—That’s between you and Benny.—

—He growled at me.—

She giggled. Of course he did.

—Fine. One. But only ‘cause I like you a little.—

She leaned up and kissed him, quick and soft—just a peck. But Lando was faster, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her closer, deepening it until her fingers were in his hair and her knees felt a little weak. His mouth moved over hers like he knew her in every lifetime. When they finally pulled back, flushed and breathless, Lando pressed his forehead against hers.

—You always kiss me like you’re saying goodbye,— he murmured.

—Maybe I just miss you a little too much, even when I’m with you,— she whispered back.

They stayed like that for a beat. Then Lando sighed dramatically.

—Okay, okay. Back to the real world. I’ve got to pretend I’m not obsessed with you for the next hour.—

—Good luck with that, simp.—

He smacked her ass lightly and she yelped, glaring at him.

—Rude!—

Lando was already grinning and jogging toward the garage.

—Worth it!—

Amelie huffed, cheeks pink, and smoothed her outfit before stepping back out. As she climbed the stairs to McLaren Hospitality, she felt her heart settle, still warm from him. The doors swung open and instantly—she knew.

All eyes were on her. Not in the sweet, friendly way she was used to. No. This was colder. Quieter. Calculating.

She blinked. Kept walking. Cisca and Adam were near the balcony, talking with someone blonde in a sharp suit. She made her way toward them, but just as she reached the hallway leading out to the terrace, a hand slipped around her arm.

—Come with me. Now.— Lily, Oscar’s girlfriend, whispered through a too-sweet smile, tugging Amelie toward the bar.

—What the fuck is happening?— Amelie muttered under her breath, confused.

Lily didn’t answer. She just smiled at the barista and ordered two iced lattes.

—Lily. Seriously. What the fuck?—

—Just… don’t turn around yet,— Lily said softly.

So of course, Amelie turned.

And froze.

Magui.

What the actual fuck.

Standing by the McLaren hospitality windows like she belonged there. Like she hadn’t fucked Lando over.

Magui looked right at her. Smiled.

Smiled.

Amelie’s stomach twisted. Her nails dug into the coffee cup in her hand.

No. Not today.

Not when everything had been so calm, so easy with Lando. Not when she’d finally let herself breathe a little again. Not when he had looked at her earlier like she was the only girl on this damn planet.

She took a slow breath.

Then turned to Lily.

—Tell Cisca and Adam I’m sorry. Tell them I’ll see them after quali. I’m watching from Ferrari.—

—Amelie—

—Please, Lils. I can’t. Not today.—

Lily nodded softly, eyes sympathetic. Amelie set her coffee down untouched and turned, walking out of McLaren with her head high and her jaw clenched.

She could feel Magui’s gaze on her back.

Let her look.

Let her wonder what it’s like to lose Lando Norris.

Because Amelie? She wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of falling apart. Not today.

Not ever again.

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

liked by chaoticwags, lanmelieupdates, and others

f1gossipgrid: things are getting spicy in monaco 👀👀 Amelie was spotted watching quali from the Ferrari hospitality today — just hours after fans clocked Magui Corceiro hanging around McLaren 😬 the girlies are playing chess not checkers this weekend 🫣🍿

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chaoticwags: not amelie sitting in ferrari hospitality looking like she bouta drop the most savage verse of 2025 😭 → pitlaneprincess: @chaoticwags drop the album girl we’re READY 💅

lanmeliesupremacy: lando better be sprinting across the paddock w flowers rn bc she looked 2 secs away from burning monaco down

soft4lanmelie: her face said “try me one more time” and i believe her → maxchaosmode: @soft4lanmelie magui breathing the same air as her? yeah i’d be pissed too

amspaddockdiary: no smile. no peace. just vengeance. → notmclarenadmin: @amspaddockdiary someone get my girl a spritz and lando on a leash

speedyspicetea: not amelie choosing violence by sitting in ferrari with a straight face 💅 → lanmelifever: @speedyspicetea she said "i could smile, but i won’t"

gridgossipgirlie: why do i feel like she made eye contact with magui and didn’t blink 😭 → chaoticwags: @gridgossipgirlie girl she was channeling her inner villain era i fear

dramainthepaddock: someone check if lando’s sweating yet → lanmelieupdates: @dramainthepaddock he’s probably watching from the garage like 👁️👄👁️

lanmelieupdates: i just know lando saw that and texted her “where tf are you” in .02 seconds 💀

gridtea: she’s so real for switching teams when his ex pulled up → chaoticwags: @gridtea the power move of it all

amelieupdates: the way she’s visibly not having fun… where is lando. FIX IT KING → lanlover24: @amelieupdates bro probably stuck in media duties while his gf is beefing in silence 😭

paddockbabes: why is this giving “you told me she wouldn’t be here” energy 😭😭 → gridratbaby: @paddockbabes not the passive aggressive hospitality switch 💀

fanf1edits: all i’m saying is… if looks could kill magui would’ve dnf’d already

lanmelie4ever: you know it’s real when she chooses ferrari over mclaren out of spite → pitlaneprince: @lanmelie4ever lando crying in orange rn 🧡💔

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

—So… are we gonna pretend you didn’t purposely exile yourself to Ferrari today or do you wanna spill?— Alex asked casually, sipping a lemonade with her sunglasses still on, legs crossed like she wasn’t waiting for the answer—but Amelie knew better.

They were sitting in a quiet corner of the Ferrari hospitality, overlooking the paddock as Monaco’s golden light started melting into late afternoon. Pascale had just gone to grab something sweet from the dessert table. It was peaceful, deceptively so. And Amelie’s silence was too loud for Alex to ignore.

Amelie shifted in her chair, fingers fiddling with the ring Lando gave her a few months ago — a tiny gold band with a small sapphire. She sighed.

—Fuck. Fine. You wanna know the truth? I saw her. Magui. In McLaren.—

Alex’s head whipped toward her, sunglasses coming down just enough to reveal the sharp raise of her eyebrow.

—Wait, what?—

—Yeah, I walked in with Lan’s parents and then suddenly Lily’s dragging me to the bar like it’s some covert op, and there she is. Blonde. Tanned. Perfect. Like she walked out of a goddamn Vogue cover to haunt my Saturday.—

Alex blinked in disbelief, processing the name, then scoffed.

—What the fuck is she doing here?—

—That’s what I asked Lily. She didn’t say a thing. Just... gave me coffee like that was gonna fix anything.—

Amelie dropped her head back against the chair, arms crossed. The pressure in her chest hadn’t let up since she walked out of there. Not even with the sea breeze and Alex’s presence. It still felt like her throat was tight, like her lungs couldn’t expand all the way.

Alex narrowed her eyes.

—You shouldn’t have left.—

—I didn’t wanna make a scene.—

—And what? Let her think she still has power? No, bitch. No. Tomorrow you're gonna walk your hot little ass into that hospitality, hold Lando’s hand, kiss his stupid mouth in front of everyone, and remind every blonde bitch who’s boss here.—

Amelie let out a watery laugh.

—You really think I can pull that off?—

—You dated a guy who simps for you so hard he flew from China to Milan on a whim. You can absolutely pull it off.—

Before Amelie could respond, the door swung open, and Charles stepped in, still in his white suit, unzipped halfway. His expression was unreadable—serious, a little broody. P2 looked good on paper, but it clearly wasn’t what he wanted today.

His gaze flicked around the room, landed on Alex and Pascale, and then...

—Amelie?—

Amelie froze.

Charles hadn’t seen her in Ferrari hospitality in months. Not since everything with Lando went public. Since she swapped red for papaya. The last thing she wanted was to explain herself, but Charles’s frown deepened immediately.

Alex gave him a subtle look. One he understood instantly.

Something was off.

He kissed his mum on the cheek, gave Alex a brief hug, and turned to Amelie.

—Come with me, chérie.—

—Charles, I...—

—Now.—

She sighed, knowing there was no point in fighting it. Charles Leclerc was sweet, charming, and most of the time chill—but when he got protective, there was no arguing.

They walked through the hallway in silence until they reached his driver’s room. He closed the door gently behind them. The quiet was suffocating.

Amelie bit her lip, looking at the floor. Her arms wrapped around herself like armor.

—You gonna tell me what happened, or do I have to call someone?—

That broke her. Not in a funny way. In the way that cracked something wide open inside her chest.

She didn’t even realize the tears were coming until her voice cracked and her shoulders trembled.

—I don’t know, Charles, I just… I walked in and she was there and it felt like… like I don’t know. And everything just got tight. And I...I haven’t felt that in a while. I was doing so well. With the food. With everything. And then she looked at me and I felt like I couldn’t fucking breathe.—

Her voice broke completely, and Charles was already there, pulling her into his arms.

—Hey. No. None of that. You’re okay. You’re safe. It’s just a bad moment, not a bad life, okay?—

She gripped his suit with shaking fingers.

—It’s stupid. I don’t even care about her. Not like that. But I feel so fucking uncomfortable in my own skin right now and I hate it, Charlie. I hate it.—

Charles rubbed her back in slow circles, grounding her.

—It’s not stupid. You were blindsided. And you’ve come so far, Amelie. You’re allowed to feel like shit sometimes. That doesn’t undo all the progress.—

She sniffled, wiping under her eyes.

—I didn’t wanna cry.—

— You always cry with me, don’t lie.—

That made her huff a breath that was almost a laugh.

—Shut up.—

He grinned.

—There’s the attitude.—

She stepped back, eyes still glassy but steadier.

—Thanks, Charlie.—

—Anytime, chérie. But tomorrow… don’t run. You belong there more than anyone.—

Amelie nodded, biting her lip. She didn’t say anything, but the look in her eyes said enough.

Tomorrow, she’d walk back into that hospitality and remind every single person exactly who the hell she was. Especially Magui.

But for now, she let herself breathe. Just a little.

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

liked by ameliecore, lanmeliefansunite, and others

f1gossipgrid: Amelie via IG stories serving yachtcore Barbie realness in her pink dress after the Monaco GP 💖💅 girl said qualy day but make it fashion. the prettiest wag in the paddock and on the water 🛥️✨

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lanmeliesupremacy: she’s not on a yacht. she’s on a throne 😭

f1gfdiaries: pink dress + monaco + yacht = WAG OF THE YEAR 🔥 → paddockbabes: @f1gfdiaries let’s be honest she’s been wag of the century since miami last year

lanmelieupdates: lando locking in P1 just to flex for yacht girl gf 😭 → gridgirlz: @lanmelieupdates he said “she watched from ferrari, now watch me go faster” 💀 → ameliesbrows: @lanmelieupdates i would’ve flown off the track trying to impress her in that dress ngl

f1wagscentral: amelie in that pink dress?? lando didn’t even need DRS, he had motivation → softforlando: @f1wagscentral fastest lap powered by love and delusion 💕

norilover88: lando seeing magui in mclaren and amelie in ferrari like 😐 → chaoticwags: @norilover88 he’s on the radio like “can someone swap the wags?” → wags4life: @norilover88 pls he’s fighting for his LIFE

ameliecore: she looked mad earlier but now she’s sipping rosé on a yacht like a queen → lanmelieslut: @ameliecore the mood swings are sponsored by monaco ✨

f1gossipgirl: not her outshining the entire grid just by standing there 😭 → amsfan420: @f1gossipgirl she’s not even trying bro she’s just built like that

ameliesarmy: pink dress slaps harder than lando’s overtakes 😍 → lanbabe101: @ameliesarmy outfit got me wanting to see her on the podium too

gridgossip: magui at mclaren but amelie at ferrari?? dramaaaa → lanmelieforever: @gridgossip lando holding it down like “she’s mine, chill”

pitstoppatrol: yacht vibes, pink dress, and lando’s girl?? Monaco just peaked

lanmeliefansunite: no way anyone steals her from him now, he’s literally got a hand on her everywhere → chaoticwags: @lanmeliefansunite “hands on the prize” is their new motto 😭

f1queenbee: pink dress slaps harder than lando’s last lap omg → gridchic: @f1queenbee pink power move, watch out monaco

paddockdrama: magui at mclaren, amelie at ferrari, lando stuck in between like ??? → lanmielover: @paddockdrama lando probably wishes he had DRS for this mess

no1trollzone: can’t believe ppl forgetting lando has p1 potential AND a stunning girlfriend in pink? → chaoticwags: @no1trollzone they’re both winning, just different podiums

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

The radio crackled faintly through the McLaren motorhome’s glass door as Lando stepped inside, his bag of takeout in hand, the weight of qualifying P1 still buzzing in his chest. He was fresh from the showers and dressed comfortably, ready for one thing: to go home. To see Amelie. The only person he wanted after a long day locked in the whirlwind of the track and flashing cameras.

But the place was quiet. Too quiet.

He dropped the bag on the counter and scanned the common area, eyes darting through the dim, expecting to see her. But she was nowhere.

Then, from the hallway, he spotted his parents, their faces bright but tense. Relief flooded him—familiarity. He made his way toward them, heart lifting.

And then, like a shadow he wished to ignore, there was Magui.

Lando’s stomach clenched. His parents moved to hug him, warm and grounding, but Magui stepped forward with that too-bright smile and arms open wide. Lando awkwardly returned the hug, stiff and uneasy.

—Where’s Amelie?— he asked, voice low.

His mother’s smile flickered, but his father answered gently.

—She wasn’t feeling well before qualifying. Said she was going to the Ferrari motorhome.—

Magui’s voice dripped with saccharine sarcasm, clearly not meant to soothe.

—Oh, poor her. Must be so hard to miss all this excitement from over there.—

Lando’s jaw tightened. He knew exactly what she was doing. Planting seeds, trying to get under his skin.

—Right, well… thanks.— He didn’t wait for a response. Instead, he turned and pushed open the motorhome door, stepping back out into the paddock.

The paddock buzzed in the golden hour—soft chatter, camera flashes, the distant whirr of generators—but Lando barely heard it. His strides were sharp, purposeful, the takeout bag still swinging at his side as he cut through the crowd like a current against the tide.

His mind was already halfway to her.

He shouldn’t have let her go alone. Should’ve noticed. Should’ve felt it when something was off. But he’d been too wrapped up in post-qualy adrenaline and media bullshit and...

He spotted the familiar red jackets up ahead and didn’t stop until he reached the Ferrari hospitality. The staff at the door blinked in surprise as he approached, eyes darting to the papaya logo on his jacket.

—Sorry, mate,— he said quickly, hands up in surrender, —I know I can’t come in. I’m just looking for Amelie.—

A beat. Then...

—Lando.—

He turned. Charles stood a few feet behind him, his hair still damp from the shower, polo slightly rumpled. He looked like he hadn’t taken a full breath since qualifying ended.

Lando’s heart kicked.

—Have you seen her?— he asked, tone already frayed with worry.

Charles’s expression softened. And that alone made Lando’s pulse stutter.

—She’s not here anymore. She left a little while ago with Alex and my mum. They went to the yacht. She hadn’t eaten all day. Wasn’t really talking much.—

Lando exhaled, but it wasn’t relief. It was something heavier.

Charles motioned for Lando to follow.

—Come on. I’ll take you there.—

They walked in silence, footsteps echoing over pavement as they left the paddock behind. The Monaco sunset bathed the harbor in gold, yachts glinting like jewels. Lando kept one hand gripped around the takeout bag, knuckles tight. The other itched to reach for his phone, to call her, to just hear her voice—but he didn’t. Something told him she needed presence, not texts. And he needed to see her. To see with his own eyes that she was okay.

Because right now, nothing felt okay.

They reached the dock and removed their shoes, Charles dropping his with a practiced ease before nodding toward the familiar white yacht bobbing just ahead.

—She’s with my mum and the rest. They're having dinner. Or trying to.—

Lando followed him onto the gangway, barefoot and silent, heart hammering like he was approaching the starting grid again. But nothing could’ve prepared him for the way his chest cracked the moment he saw her.

Amelie.

She sat near Pascale, a plate in front of her mostly untouched. Her fingers toyed with a piece of bread, movements slow, absent. She smiled at something Pascale said, but her eyes...

Her eyes were red.

His throat tightened.

She had cried.

And still, even like this, she was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Their eyes met instantly across the deck.

Lando barely blinked as their gaze locked. Her body stiffened for a second like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t��like feeling. But the second he stepped forward, something in her relaxed, even if just slightly.

He crossed the deck in a few long strides, past Pascale and Arthur, past Alex who gave him the smallest nod of encouragement. The takeout bag was still in his hand, swaying gently by his side.

When he reached her, he didn’t say anything at first. Just leaned down, brushed a kiss to the top of her head like a promise, and murmured softly, —Hey baby.—

Her eyes closed at the sound of his voice.

—Can you come with me for a minute?—

He offered his hand.

No hesitation. Her fingers slid into his like they always did—like muscle memory, like home. She gave a quiet excuse to the table, Pascale nodding warmly and squeezing her hand before letting her go.

Lando led Amelie carefully across the deck, their joined hands grounding them both. The yacht rocked gently beneath them, the sound of silverware and soft conversation behind them fading as they slipped toward the private cabin at the rear.

Once the door clicked shut, Amelie leaned back against it, her fingers still entwined with his.

He didn’t let go.

She gave him a soft smile—small, tired, real.

—P1. I should be throwing confetti at you or something.—

Lando let out a quiet huff, shaking his head. He cupped her face, thumbs brushing the hollows beneath her eyes where the skin was still a little pink.

—Right now, I couldn’t give less of a shit about that.—

Her breath caught.

—Lan…—

—Don’t— he said, voice low but firm —Don’t downplay what happened. I saw your eyes. I know you cried. And I know exactly why. And I’m so fucking sorry you had to deal with that on your own.—

She blinked fast, her throat bobbing.

—I didn’t want to ruin your day.—

—You could never ruin my day. You are my day.—

That undid her a little. Her fingers clutched his shirt, pressing her forehead into his chest. He held her like he always did—tight, safe, like the world outside the door could go to hell and he wouldn’t care as long as she was here.

—She’s not gonna be there anymore,— he whispered against her hair. —I’m going to talk to Zak and the team. After this weekend, she’s done. No more McLaren invites, no more media passes, no more fucking surprises.—

Amelie pulled back just enough to look up at him.

—You’d do that?—

—In a heartbeat.— His eyes burned with something fierce and protective. —You think I’m gonna let someone waltz into your space and make you feel small? Not a chance. You didn’t deserve that. You never deserve that.—

Her lips parted—words forming and dissolving too fast to catch. She didn’t need to say them. He already knew.

And maybe that’s why the kiss that followed wasn’t soft.

It was desperate.

Their mouths collided like it was the only way they knew how to breathe. Her hands slid into his hair, pulling him closer, and his arms wrapped around her waist like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go again. The takeout bag hit the floor with a dull thump. The door was locked, the world forgotten.

His hands slid beneath the hem of her shirt, her fingers already finding the buttons of his, and for a moment, they both gave in to the ache, the tension, the overwhelming need to feel something that wasn’t confusion or insecurity.

But reality caught up.

Lando pulled back with a breathless groan, pressing his forehead against hers.

—Fuck. We shouldn’t. Not here. Not in Charles’s mum’s yacht.—

She laughed softly, breath mingling with his.

—I know. I know. God, I just…—

—I know.—

They stood there for a beat, hearts pounding, still tangled in each other. Then, slowly, Lando knelt down, picked up the bag from the floor, and opened it.

—Truffle fries, veggie dumplings, those stupid little bao buns you love. And a chocolate tart I had to bribe someone for.—

Her eyes went wide, and a little shine returned to them.

—You really did all that?—

—I was planning to feed you like a queen at home, yeah. Still am, if you’re up for it.—

She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper.

—I’m more than ready to go home. Just us.—

Lando grinned.

—Good. ‘Cause I’m kidnapping you the second we step off this boat.—

She rolled her eyes but smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

—Let’s go home, Lan.—

And with fingers laced tight and takeout in hand, they slipped out of the cabin, back into the golden Monaco night—not looking back once.

Their apartment was dim when they stepped inside, the last streaks of sunset filtering through the curtains and bathing the living room in warm amber hues. Lando toed his shoes off by the door while Amelie, still in one of her oversized crewnecks, padded toward the kitchen with the bag of takeout swinging from her arm.

Benny meowed lazily from the windowsill, tail flicking, while Björn launched himself off the couch and tore across the hallway like a gremlin possessed.

—We’re keeping them out here,— Amelie called over her shoulder, eyes narrowing at the blur of fur. —They’re absolutely feral tonight.—

—Agreed,— Lando replied, chuckling as he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it on the armchair. —I love them, but I don’t trust Björn not to start chewing on my toe at 3am again.—

They shared an easy smile as Amelie brought out the food, setting it all on the coffee table. The TV clicked on, some random romcom she didn’t even register playing as she curled into the corner of the couch with her legs tucked under her. Lando sat close, thigh pressed against hers, head falling back with a soft sigh as he reached for a bao bun.

She watched him quietly for a moment, chin rested on her knuckles.

—You okay?—

Lando nodded, chewing slowly. But the way his eyes lingered on the screen without focus, the occasional twitch of his jaw—Amelie knew better.

Tomorrow was everything. Monaco. Pole. Pressure.

And Magui hadn’t helped.

So she took it upon herself to fix it. To give him the kind of peace only she could.

She leaned in and nuzzled his shoulder lightly, lips brushing the fabric of his shirt.

—Wanna talk about it? Or want me to talk about literally anything else to distract you? I can give a full TED Talk on why Björn is definitely plotting our deaths.—

Lando huffed a soft laugh, eyes finally flicking toward her.

—I’m okay. Just… my brain won’t shut off.—

—Then let me hijack it,— she murmured with a grin, tossing a dumpling into her mouth and dramatically chewing like it was the greatest thing she'd ever eaten. —Mmm. Sensational. You sure you don’t wanna become a chef after F1? I could be your sous-chef. Burn toast. Break blenders. Seduce the head chef. All the classics.—

He grinned, finally. A real one.

—You’d be the worst sous-chef of all time.—

—And you’d love every second of it.—

—Can’t deny that.—

They finished dinner slowly, her mission clear: keep his brain as far away from tomorrow as possible. He stretched out across the couch while she sprawled half on top of him, feet tangled and fingers brushing. The movie faded into background noise, just warmth and closeness taking over.

Eventually, she sat up with a sleepy sigh, yawning as she glanced toward the hallway.

—I’m gonna shower. You gonna go over your data stuff?—

He nodded, already reaching for his iPad.

—Yeah. Just for a bit.—

She kissed his forehead and disappeared down the hall, the sound of running water soon echoing faintly. Lando settled into the cushions, scrolling through his telemetry, noting sector times and tire degradation. But his mind drifted—again and again—to the girl humming off-key in the bathroom.

He was still scrolling when the door opened.

And there she was.

Hair damp, face fresh, wearing nothing but one of his old McLaren shirts that barely skimmed the tops of her thighs. His breath caught for the briefest second as she padded barefoot into the room and slid under the covers beside him.

—You’re still reading numbers. Babe,— she whispered, curling into him. —It’s bedtime. Monaco pole-sitters need sleep.—

—Can’t shut it off yet,— he murmured, brushing her knee with his thumb.

She frowned at the tension in his voice. The way his body was here but not really here.

And she couldn’t sleep if he couldn’t.

So she shifted, turning to face him, fingers threading gently through his curls. He hummed softly, eyes fluttering shut as she toyed with his hair, her nails scratching lightly at his scalp.

—I’m not gonna sleep if you’re still wired,— she whispered. —So now it’s my problem too.—

—Sorry, love,— he said, voice hoarse, lips grazing her forehead.

But it wasn’t enough. She could feel it in him—the pressure building like a storm behind his ribs. And something inside her itched to draw it out. To replace it.

So she kissed his jaw. Slowly. Then his cheek. Then his temple.

—Still thinking about tomorrow?— she whispered.

He nodded.

Amelie didn’t say another word.

Instead, she shifted, slow and purposeful, straddling his hips until she was sitting on top of him, her thighs bracketing his waist beneath the sheets. Lando’s eyes opened instantly, pupils dilating at the sight of her above him, moonlight casting soft shadows across her cheekbones.

Her hands cupped his face, thumbs brushing over the stubble along his jaw.

—I need you to focus on me now,— she murmured.

And then she kissed him.

Deep. Intentional. Like every brush of her lips was a command to pull him out of his own head.

He groaned into her mouth, hands instinctively finding her hips beneath the blanket, grounding himself in the feel of her, the taste of her. She shifted slightly, just enough to make him hiss between his teeth.

But she wasn’t done.

Amelie pulled back just enough to meet his eyes.

And then her lips dipped to his neck.

Lando's breath caught.

—Ames…—

She shushed him, kissing beneath his ear, then lower—just where his pulse beat strongest.

And she bit.

—Jesus Christ—

—She wants to play dirty, I’ll play dirtier,— Amelie muttered against his throat, kissing the red bloom already forming before moving to the other side.

He groaned, his grip on her hips tightening.

—You know I’ve got media duties in the morning.—

—I know.—

Another kiss. Another bite.

—And a race. Sponsors. FIA photos.—

—Mhm. You’ll look hot covered in proof you’re mine. Let her see.—

Lando’s head fell back against the pillow with a sharp breath, and Amelie just kept going, leaving a constellation of hickeys from his jaw to his collarbone. She didn’t care if the team stylist had to panic tomorrow. Or if Magui’s eyes went wide when the cameras zoomed in.

Let her see.

Let them all see.

He was hers.

And maybe, just maybe, she’d sleep better knowing that was unmistakably clear.

By the time she finally pulled back, Lando was breathless, wrecked, his eyes half-lidded and hands roaming her thighs like he’d forgotten how to do anything else.

—You’re evil,— he whispered.

She grinned, tracing the marks she'd left.

—You love it.—

—God help me, I really do.—

They didn’t say much after that.

Eventually, she rolled off him and nestled into his side, her head resting against the chest now littered with bruises, her hand stroking his arm gently. Lando held her close, calmer now, his brain finally quiet. The glow of the city flickered beyond the windows, and the occasional distant meow from the hallway signaled their cats still hadn’t surrendered to sleep.

But inside their room, it was quiet. Warm.

Real.

—Goodnight, pole-sitter,— she whispered, already drifting.

And this time, Lando fell asleep first.

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