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next to you

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Following Lando's pole-setting qualifying run at the Hungarian Grand Prix, a deeply traumatized Amelie arrives in Budapest after three sleepless, anxiety-ridden days in Vancouver.

Wordcount: 23.3 k

Warnings: smut

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July 26th, 2026 - Budapest, Hungary

The private jet touched down smoothly on the runway at Budapest Ferenc Liszt International Airport just as the late afternoon sun painted the tarmac in warm shades of amber and gold, the engines gradually falling into a low, steady hum as the aircraft slowed beneath the clear Hungarian sky.

Through the oval window beside her seat, Amelie watched the rows of private hangars drift past almost absentmindedly, barely registering the movement outside because her mind felt wrapped in the same heavy fog it had been trapped inside for the past three days. Normally arriving somewhere new always filled her with quiet excitement, especially when that destination meant seeing Lando after a week apart, but exhaustion had dulled everything. Every emotion felt slightly delayed, slightly heavier, as though her body had forgotten how to exist without constantly waiting for something terrible to happen.

She remained sitting for several long moments even after the aircraft had come to a complete stop, the seatbelt still fastened loosely across her lap while the rest of the cabin slowly came to life around her. One of the flight attendants quietly thanked her for flying with them as another crew member opened the overhead compartments, but Amelie only offered them a polite smile before looking back out of the window.

Three days wasn't enough to recover from something like that. If anything, each night had somehow become worse than the one before. Every attempt to sleep ended exactly the same way. The moment she closed her eyes, she saw headlights filling her rearview mirror again. She heard her own uneven breathing inside the car, remembered the feeling of checking every mirror every few seconds, and the crushing uncertainty of not knowing whether she was actually safe or simply hadn't realized she wasn't. Eventually, sleeping had stopped feeling possible altogether.

She had tried everything.

Chamomile tea before bed because Minnie swore by it. Long, hot showers that usually relaxed every muscle in her body after filming. Keeping the television playing quietly in the background so the apartment didn't feel quite so silent. Even sleeping with one of Lando's hoodies pulled tightly against her chest because it still carried the faintest trace of his cologne.

Nothing worked.

The exhaustion settled deeper beneath her skin with every passing hour, yet the second her head touched the pillow, her brain immediately convinced itself that closing her eyes meant lowering her guard. Every distant car passing outside the apartment made her shoulders tense. Every unexpected sound pulled her awake before she'd even managed to drift off. By the third morning she had accepted that surviving on scattered twenty-minute naps wasn't sustainable anymore, no matter how stubbornly she insisted she was fine whenever anyone asked.

Unfortunately for her, Lando knew her far too well to believe those lies.

It had taken him less than thirty seconds during another FaceTime call to notice the increasingly dark circles beneath her eyes and the way she occasionally lost her train of thought halfway through a sentence. She hadn't wanted him worrying during a race weekend, but after enough gentle questions—and one particularly long silence where she'd simply looked at him through the screen without pretending anymore—they had both quietly reached the same conclusion.

Neither of them had actually framed it as some dramatic rescue mission.

It had simply become obvious.

She wasn't sleeping. She wasn't eating properly because exhaustion had stolen most of her appetite. She spent every journey from the studio to the apartment checking the mirrors more often than the road ahead, despite now travelling with additional security production had immediately arranged after the incident. She laughed when people expected her to laugh, she smiled whenever someone asked how she was doing, and she kept insisting she was alright because she genuinely wanted to believe it herself.

But she wasn't and Lando had stopped pretending not to notice.

He had quietly suggested that maybe, just maybe, spending a day or two with him before returning to Vancouver might help her breathe again. She already had a short break in filming before production resumed, the logistics worked surprisingly well, and McLaren had no objection to her quietly joining him in Budapest for the remainder of the weekend before flying back.

The timing had somehow aligned almost perfectly.

Only a few hours after she'd boarded her flight, Lando had gone out for qualifying and delivered a lap that reminded the entire paddock exactly why he was wearing the number one on his car this season. His final run had been nothing short of spectacular, stringing together three flawless sectors to secure pole position by just over a tenth of a second.

Amelie had watched every second of it from her seat inside of the private jet, her iPad balanced carefully against the folded blanket covering her legs while the onboard Wi-Fi struggled every now and then to keep the broadcast from buffering. Even through the occasional frozen frame, she had seen enough. She had watched him climb out of the car with that disbelieving smile spreading slowly across his face, heard the engineer's excited voice crackling over the team radio, and seen the entire McLaren garage erupt into applause as the timing screens confirmed what everyone already suspected.

Pole position.

His first pole position as the reigning World Champion.

She had smiled so hard her cheeks had actually hurt for a few minutes afterward, pride momentarily overpowering every anxious thought that had been living inside her head for the better part of three days. She had even clapped quietly to herself inside the almost empty cabin, making one of the flight attendants laugh softly as she congratulated her on what she assumed was a family member's achievement.

Amelie had simply smiled and thanked her, because explaining that the person she had just watched achieve pole position was not only one of the best Formula One drivers in the world but also the person who had been keeping her together from another continent for the past few days felt impossible to put into words.

Now, as the aircraft finally came to a complete stop and the cabin crew began preparing for her departure, the reality that she was actually here started slowly settling in.

The flight attendant gently reminded her that the stairs would be ready shortly, pulling Amelie out of the quiet trance she had fallen into while staring through the window. She finally released the seatbelt, moving slowly as if her body was still trying to catch up with the fact that she was no longer thousands of kilometers away from the person she had been desperately wanting to see.

Amelie gathered her things quietly, sliding her phone into the pocket of her oversized hoodie before reaching down for the longchamp travel bag resting beside her seat. Normally, she would have probably complained about how heavy it was despite knowing perfectly well that half of the things inside were unnecessary items she had packed simply because they made her feel more comfortable.

This time, she barely noticed the weight.

The exhaustion had settled into every part of her body, making even simple movements feel slower than usual. She adjusted the strap over her shoulder, thanked the flight crew one more time with a tired but genuine smile, and made her way toward the front of the aircraft where the small staircase had already been positioned against the door.

Amelie paused for a brief second at the top of the stairs, one hand resting against the doorway of the jet while the warm Hungarian air brushed against her face. It was a small thing, something she probably wouldn't have even noticed under normal circumstances, but after three days of feeling trapped inside her own thoughts, simply stepping outside and breathing different air felt strangely grounding.

She slowly descended the first few steps, one hand lightly gripping the railing while the other remained wrapped around the strap of her Longchamp bag. The airport tarmac stretched quietly around her, the usual chaos of a race weekend private arrival noticeably calmer than the crowded paddock she would eventually enter later that evening. For once, there were no cameras immediately waiting, no journalists calling her name, no overwhelming wave of attention demanding that she pretend everything was perfectly fine.

Amelie looked down toward the sunlit tarmac where a sleek, tinted Mercedes was parked just a few short meters away from the jet's steps. Lando was standing right beside the driver's side door, looking distinctly like himself despite his best efforts to stay discreet behind dark sunglasses and his black hoodie pulled up firmly over his dark curls.

Beside his car, a massive black SUV was parked silently, flanked by two burly security guards who stood alongside the personal guard Amelie had brought with her from Vancouver. Yet, despite the subtle layer of protection hovering around them, Lando's attention was locked entirely on her. The moment his eyes caught her standing at the top of the stairs, the guarded stance he had maintained melted away, replaced by a wide, affectionate smile that instantly reached his eyes.

Amelie’s heart did a strange, painful flutter in her chest, a soft, weary smile breaking through her exhausted expression as she began carefully climbing down the metal stairs with her Longchamp bag slung over her shoulder.

She barely even registered her security guard stepping back to give them privacy; her eyes were fixed completely on Lando, who didn't wait for her to walk all the way over to the car. He immediately closed the small distance between them with quick, purposeful strides, dropping his arms wide open in an unmistakable invitation. The second she stepped onto the solid pavement and felt his strong, warm arms wrap tightly around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest, every single piece of composure she had been desperately clinging to for the past seventy-two hours completely shattered.

Amelie buried her face deep into the warm crook of his neck, her hands instantly letting go of her bag as her fingers clung tightly to the fabric of his hoodie. A sharp, violent sob tore through her throat before she could even try to stop it, followed by a heavy stream of hot tears spilling uncontrollably down her cheeks. All the suffocating anxiety, the relentless paranoia, and the agonizing weight of three sleepless nights came pouring out of her all at once in a wave of raw, helpless weeping right there on the tarmac.

Lando didn't hesitate for even a second.

The moment he felt her body start shaking against his, his arms tightened instinctively around her, one hand moving slowly up and down her back while the other rested securely against the back of her head, keeping her tucked safely against him. He didn't care that they were standing outside a private terminal, that there were security guards nearby, or that anyone from the team could potentially see them. Right now, none of that mattered.

The only thing that mattered was that she was finally here.

That she wasn't alone in Vancouver.

That he could finally hold her instead of trying to comfort her through a phone screen.

—I’ve got you, sweetheart,— Lando murmured softly into her hair, his deep, familiar voice thick with emotion as his hand gently rubbed steady circles into her back. —I’ve got you, baby. You’re safe now, okay? You're right here with me.—

But those words somehow made it worse.

Because for the first time in three days, Amelie didn't have to be strong anymore.

She didn't have to convince Alex and Minnie that she was okay. She didn't have to smile through conversations with production. She didn't have to pretend during FaceTime calls that she had slept more than twenty minutes at a time. She didn't have to keep checking every reflection, every passing car, every unfamiliar sound.

She was with the one person who had heard every shaky breath, every attempt at pretending she wasn't terrified, every moment where she had forced herself to keep driving even when all she wanted was to stop and disappear. And now, after three days of carrying all of that fear alone, she finally had permission to let it go.

Lando felt the change immediately.

He felt the way her shoulders, which had been tense since the moment she stepped off the plane, slowly began to relax against him. He felt the way her grip on his hoodie tightened at first, almost desperately, before gradually loosening as her body finally understood that she wasn't in danger anymore.

She was safe with him and that realization was enough to completely break through the last bit of control she had been holding onto.

—I'm sorry,— she whispered between uneven breaths, the words barely audible against his neck. —I'm sorry, I didn't want to do this the second I saw you.—

Lando frowned slightly, pulling back just enough to look at her face.

His hands stayed firmly around her waist, keeping her close while his thumbs gently wiped away the tears that had collected along her cheeks. Seeing her like this hurt more than any race result ever could. He had seen her stressed, frustrated, exhausted, overwhelmed, but this was different.

This was someone who had spent three days convincing herself she was fine when she clearly hadn't been.

—Don't apologize for crying,— he said softly, his voice almost immediately making her eyes fill again. —Please don't ever apologize for that with me.—

Amelie tried to nod, but the movement was small and shaky, her bottom lip trembling slightly as she looked at him. She hated feeling this vulnerable. She hated that the first thing she had done after arriving at the place where she had been so excited to see him was fall apart completely.

But at the same time, she couldn't deny how much easier breathing felt now.

The simple fact that she was no longer alone with those thoughts made a difference she hadn't realized she desperately needed.

Lando studied her face for several seconds, taking in every little detail he had already noticed through a screen but that somehow looked even more obvious in person. The exhaustion beneath her eyes, the way her shoulders still carried unnecessary tension, the faint redness around her cheeks from crying, and the fact that even now, standing safely in his arms, a small part of her still seemed afraid to fully relax.

Lando's expression softened even further.

He wanted to ask a thousand questions.

He wanted to know exactly how many hours she had slept since the incident, how many times she had woken up during the night, whether she had eaten properly that morning, whether she had actually told Alex and Minnie the full extent of how badly she was struggling, whether she was still checking the mirrors every time she got into a car.

The questions were already there, sitting on the tip of his tongue.

But he also knew her.

He knew that right now, after three days of constantly feeling like she had to explain herself, the last thing she needed was an interrogation. She didn't need him to analyze every detail. She needed him to remind her that she didn't have to carry everything alone anymore.

So instead, he simply pulled her closer again.

—Come here,— he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss against her forehead. —You don't have to explain anything right now. You're here. That's the only thing I care about.—

Amelie closed her eyes, allowing herself to lean into him completely.

For the first time in days, she wasn't listening for another car outside her window. She wasn't wondering whether someone was watching her. She wasn't forcing herself to stay alert.

She was just standing there with him.

Eventually, after several more minutes, Lando reluctantly pulled back slightly, although his hands remained firmly around her waist as if he wasn't entirely convinced that letting go was a good idea yet.

—Okay,— he murmured softly, brushing his thumb over the last tear resting beneath her eye. —I think we should probably get you somewhere comfortable before you decide the airport floor is your new home.—

A small laugh escaped her.

It was quiet and tired, but it was exactly what he had been hoping to hear.

—I'm sorry,— she repeated, although this time her voice was much steadier.

Lando immediately shook his head.

—No apologizing.—

—I'm not apologizing for crying,— she clarified, wiping beneath her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie. —I'm apologizing because I should've started this by congratulating you on pole instead of immediately arriving and looking like an idiot crying on a runway.—

For a second, Lando just stared at her.

Then a small, almost disbelieving smile appeared across his face.

—Amelie,— he said, shaking his head slightly. —You genuinely think that's what I'm thinking about right now?—

She opened her mouth to answer, but he continued before she could.

—You flew halfway across the world because you needed somewhere you felt safe. I couldn't care less that you cried when you saw me.— His smile softened. —Although, for the record, you could've congratulated me while crying. That would've been very on brand for you.—

Lando's comment earned him exactly the reaction he was hoping for.

A small laugh escaped Amelie despite everything, the sound still slightly broken from the tears she had cried only moments earlier but undeniably real. She shook her head at him, wiping beneath her eyes one more time with the sleeve of her hoodie while trying to regain some sense of dignity after completely falling apart the second she saw him.

—You are so annoying,— she murmured, although there was no real frustration behind the words.

—Yeah, but you love me anyway,— Lando replied immediately, the confidence in his voice making her roll her eyes even though the small smile appearing on her face completely betrayed her.

For a few seconds, they simply stood there on the quiet tarmac, surrounded by security personnel, the distant sound of airport vehicles moving around them, and the warm Hungarian morning air wrapping around them. It was strange how quickly everything could change. Only a few minutes earlier, Amelie had felt like she was carrying three days of fear, exhaustion, and anxiety alone, and now she was standing in front of the one person who somehow made everything feel a little less impossible.

Lando finally reached down and picked up the Longchamp bag she had dropped beside them when she hugged him, throwing the strap easily over his shoulder along with his own backpack.

—Come on,— he said softly, nodding toward the car. —Before my security team starts thinking I'm planning on living on this runway forever.—

Amelie smiled faintly, walking beside him as they made their way toward the Mercedes. She noticed immediately how Lando kept adjusting his pace to match hers instead of walking ahead like he normally would. It was such a small thing, something most people probably wouldn't even notice, but it was exactly the kind of thing he always did.

Lando opened the passenger door for her before she even reached the car, one hand resting against the top of the frame as he waited patiently for her to get inside. The gesture was simple, almost automatic, but Amelie noticed it immediately because it was one of those tiny things about him that had always made her feel cared for without him ever needing to announce it.

She climbed into the passenger seat slowly, still carrying the exhaustion that seemed to have settled into her bones over the past few days. The familiar scent of his car surrounded her almost instantly, a mixture of his cologne, the leather seats, and the faint smell of coffee from whatever drink he had probably bought earlier that morning. It was such a normal, ordinary thing, but after everything that had happened, the normality of it almost felt overwhelming.

Lando carefully placed her bag in the backseat before leaning down slightly.

—Comfortable?— he asked, his voice softer now that they were away from the noise of the airport.

Amelie nodded, pulling the seatbelt across her body but not fastening it yet.

—Yeah.—

He studied her for another second, clearly making sure she wasn't just saying it because she knew he wanted to hear that answer.

She noticed.

Of course she noticed.

She always noticed when Lando was worried.

—I'm okay,— she added quietly, giving him a small smile before he could ask. —Really.—

Lando didn't completely believe her, but he also didn't want to ruin the moment by turning the car ride into another conversation about everything that had happened. So instead, he simply nodded and closed the passenger door gently.

Amelie watched him through the window as he walked around the front of the Mercedes toward the driver's side. Even from behind the tinted glass, she could see the small details that reminded her why being around him felt so grounding. The way he moved with that familiar confidence, the way he pushed his sunglasses higher onto his head as he walked, the way his shoulders finally seemed to relax now that she was physically there.

Lando opened the driver's door and slipped inside, immediately adjusting the seat slightly before closing it behind him. The quiet click of the door shutting created a small bubble of privacy around them, separating them from the activity of the private terminal and the security team waiting nearby. For the first time since she had stepped off the plane, Amelie felt like she could actually breathe without dozens of eyes around them.

She watched him for a moment from the passenger seat, noticing how naturally he moved around the car, how familiar everything about him felt. It was ridiculous how much she had missed simple things like this. Sitting beside him while he searched for his keys, listening to the quiet sound of him adjusting the mirrors, watching him hum absentmindedly while doing something as ordinary as starting a car.

Things that used to feel completely normal suddenly felt like the biggest comfort in the world.

Lando placed his sunglasses into the small compartment near the gear stick before looking over at her again. His expression softened immediately when he saw her still watching him with that tired but calmer look in her eyes.

—What?— he asked with a small smile, slightly amused. —Why are you looking at me like that?—

Amelie blinked, realizing she had been caught staring.

—Nothing,— she replied quickly, —I just missed you,— she admitted quietly, the honesty of the answer making the teasing expression on Lando’s face soften almost immediately.

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

It was such a simple sentence, something she had probably said hundreds of times before in different situations, through different phone calls and after different stretches of time apart. But after the last few days, after needing him through a phone screen and wishing more than anything that he could physically be there, hearing herself say it while sitting beside him felt completely different.

Lando looked at her for another second before reaching across the center console and taking her hand gently in his.

His thumb brushed slowly over her knuckles, a small, comforting gesture that required no explanation. He knew she wasn't just talking about missing him after a week apart. He knew she was talking about missing the feeling of safety that came with being near him.

—I missed you too,— he replied softly.

The answer was simple, but the way he said it made her chest tighten slightly.

Because Lando had spent the last few days trying to be strong for her. He had been the calm voice on the other side of the phone, the person reminding her to breathe, the person telling her everything was going to be okay when he couldn't physically prove it.

Lando's dark eyes lingered on hers for another long second, his thumb still absently stroking the warm skin of her knuckles while the air conditioning hummed quietly through the cabin of the Mercedes.

Before he could reach forward to put the key into the ignition, Amelie leaned across the center console, completely unprompted, and brought her face close to his. She cupped his cheek with her free hand, her trembling fingers pressing gently against his soft skin, and pressed her lips directly to his.

Lando froze in absolute surprise for a fraction of a second, his eyes widening slightly before he let out a soft, low gasp against her mouth.

It wasn't a rushed or frantic kiss, but rather a slow, deeply emotional pressing of their lips together that carried all the lingering weight of the last three terrifying days. Amelie’s soft lips lingered on his, drinking in the familiar, comforting warmth of him, letting the lingering taste of his minty breath completely replace the metallic tang of panic that had been residing in her throat since Vancouver.

When she slowly pulled away, resting her forehead gently against his broad shoulder, she let out a long, shuddering breath and looked up into his stunned, affectionate green-blue eyes with a faint, genuine smile pulling at her tired lips.

—Congratulations on pole position, Lan,— she whispered softly, her voice filled with a deep, undeniable pride that made his entire heart swell inside his chest. —I am so proud of you, World Champion.—

A massive, helpless smile broke completely across Lando’s face, his eyes crinkling at the corners as a quiet, breathless chuckle escaped his throat. The subtle worry that had been clouding his expression for hours vanished instantly, replaced by a radiant, boyish happiness that lit up the entire interior of the car.

Without hesitating for even a single second, Lando leaned straight back in, cupping both sides of her warm face in his broad, gentle hands and kissing her back with slow, lingering tenderness. He pressed a sweet kiss to her lips, then another to the corner of her mouth, and one last lingering kiss against her soft cheek before finally pulling back just enough to look directly into her eyes.

—Thank you, beautiful,— Lando murmured softly, his thumb gently brushing against her jawline as he stared at her like she was the only thing in the entire world that mattered. —You have no idea how happy I am that you’re actually here. Having you here... it makes everything so much better, Amelie.—

Amelie’s smile widened just a little more, the heavy, suffocating knot in her stomach loosening even further as she slowly sat back down properly into the plush leather passenger seat. She reached down with slightly steadier hands and clicked her seatbelt securely into place, while Lando did the exact same, his broad shoulders relaxing completely against the driver’s seat.

Lando started the powerful engine with a smooth press of a button, the car coming to life with a quiet, refined roar before he shifted into drive and slowly began navigating away from the private terminal, the heavy black security SUV falling into place right behind them.

As he steered the vehicle smoothly onto the quiet highway leading toward the heart of Budapest, Lando glanced over at her with a mischievous, loving smirk playing at the edge of his lips.

—Alright, let’s get moving, sweetheart,— Lando said warmly, keeping one hand firmly on the steering wheel while his other hand reached back across the center console to lock his fingers tightly with hers. —Because I urgently need to take a quick shower, and you, my darling, are going to be forced to lie down and get at least one full hour of uninterrupted sleep before we even think about heading over to the circuit.—

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liked by daydreamamelie, f1wags, and others

ameliedaymanupdates: Amelie’s jet has officially landed in Hungary 🇭🇺✨ After leaving Vancouver yesterday morning, she’s finally back in Europe 🫶🏻

View all 892 comments

papayagirl: she really went from vancouver to hungary overnight 😭✈️ the schedule is insane → lan4ever: pop star life is literally another universe → amelieupdates: and she still looked perfect arriving somehow???

gridgirlie: wait… are we not gonna talk about how people know her jet location?? 😭 → papayagirl: this is getting a little uncomfortable tbh

ameliesource: happy she’s in hungary but the fact that this is posted after what happened two days ago… 😕 → daydreamamelie: exactly my thoughts, she deserves privacy → gridgirlie: especially after someone literally followed her

lan4ever: everyone excited she’s back in europe but can we please remember she’s a person and not a flight tracker 🫶 → amelieupdates: THIS. updates are fun until it crosses a line

f1wags: imagine being on a private jet and still having people watching your location 😭 → gridgirlie: celebrities really cannot breathe sometimes → lan4ever: the internet needs boundaries

daymanfiles: hungary era begins 🇭🇺✨

landoandamelie: not people immediately connecting this to lando being in hungary too 👀 → gridgirlie: the detectives are already awake → lan4ever: they can’t let these two exist peacefully 😭

ameliefanclub: happy she arrived safely 🤍 that’s the only thing that matters → daydreamamelie: exactly, not the exact route or timing

gridgirlie: remember when she said she wanted a normal life sometimes… this is why 😭 → lan4ever: fame sounds glamorous until you realize everyone knows where you are → amelieupdates: give her some space pls

papayagirl: hungary welcome her gently 🥹🇭🇺 → daymanfiles: hoping for smiles, good music and no drama

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The hotel room had finally settled into a peaceful kind of quiet.

Not the uncomfortable silence that had filled her apartment in Vancouver after the incident, the kind that made every small sound feel threatening and every passing car outside seem suspicious. This was different. This was the comfortable silence of knowing someone else was nearby, of knowing that if she turned around, she would see him.

Amelie stood in front of the large mirror near the bedroom area, slowly turning from side to side as she looked at herself from different angles.

For the first time in days, she actually recognized the person looking back at her.

She had spent so long seeing exhaustion every time she looked at her reflection. Dark circles beneath her eyes, tired expressions she couldn't hide no matter how much concealer she used, hair thrown into messy buns because putting effort into anything had felt impossible. She had gotten used to looking like someone who was constantly waiting for something bad to happen.

But now, standing in the warm afternoon light of the hotel room, she looked like herself again.

Almost.

She adjusted the skirt of the orange dress she had chosen for the paddock, smoothing the fabric down with both hands before tilting her head slightly to examine the final result. It wasn't planned. Actually, almost nothing about this entire trip had been planned. The flight, arriving in Hungary, staying with Lando during the weekend, even the dress she had packed had all been decisions made quickly because she had needed to get away from Vancouver.

Yet somehow, it worked.

The bright orange color looked almost impossible to ignore, especially against her skin, and the simple cut of the dress somehow managed to make her feel put together without feeling like she had spent hours trying too hard.

It was funny.

A few days ago, she hadn't even wanted to look at herself.

Now she was standing in front of a mirror turning around like she was getting ready for a photoshoot.

She couldn't help smiling slightly.

—Okay,— she whispered to herself, leaning closer toward the mirror. —You actually look alive.—

The biggest difference wasn't even the dress.

It was her eyes.

Her makeup had covered the exhaustion almost perfectly. The dark circles that had practically become permanent over the last few days were completely hidden beneath layers of careful concealer and foundation. Her makeup artist had taught her years ago how to make tired skin look fresh, but today she had taken extra time herself, blending everything carefully until the reflection staring back at her looked less like someone who hadn't slept properly in days and more like the Amelie everyone expected to see.

She knew it was only makeup.

She knew a few perfectly blended products couldn't erase what had happened, couldn't magically remove the fear that still existed somewhere beneath the surface, couldn't make the last three days disappear as if they had never happened.

But sometimes looking better helped feeling better.

Sometimes doing something as simple as putting on a dress, brushing her hair, and taking the time to carefully paint her face reminded her that she was still herself. She wasn't just the girl who had been followed home from set. She wasn't just the girl who couldn't sleep because every sound outside her apartment made her heart jump.

She was still Amelie.

The girl who loved fashion, who spent too much time deciding what earrings matched an outfit, who would stand in front of a mirror turning around because she genuinely enjoyed seeing herself feel pretty.

And today, she finally felt a little bit like that girl again.

She adjusted one of the straps of the orange dress, tilting her head slightly as she studied the reflection one more time. The dress wasn't something she had specifically bought for the weekend. It had been sitting inside her suitcase since the beginning of filming, one of those pieces she packed without a real reason because she liked having options.

Somehow, now, it felt like the perfect choice.

Orange had become something of a tradition between them this season.

It had started as a joke almost, a small way of showing support during Lando's championship year. Every Sunday she had appeared somewhere wearing orange, whether it was a carefully planned outfit, a subtle accessory, or something much more obvious that made fans immediately connect the dots. She had never expected it to become such a recognizable thing, but eventually even Lando had started teasing her about it.

His personal championship color.

His lucky charm.

She smiled at the memory.

The first time she had shown up wearing orange after he mentioned it, he had laughed and told her she was taking her role as "championship girlfriend" way too seriously. Then, a few races later, when she showed up wearing it again, he had admitted he secretly looked for her in the crowd before every race.

The memory made her smile softly as she looked at herself in the mirror, remembering how something so small had somehow turned into one of their favorite little traditions. It wasn't about superstition or pressure or feeling like she had to prove anything. It was simply their thing.

A tiny reminder, every race weekend, that even when they were on opposite sides of the world, she was still cheering for him.

And now, standing in Hungary wearing orange again, she couldn't deny how much she liked the feeling.

Especially because this time, it wasn't just about supporting him.

It was also about reminding herself that she was still capable of feeling happy.

Amelie turned slightly again, examining the dress from the side before letting out a quiet laugh at herself.

She had genuinely spent the last five minutes admiring her own reflection.

Five minutes.

After three days of barely sleeping and feeling like she didn't even recognize herself, she was now standing in front of a hotel mirror debating whether the earrings she had chosen were the right ones.

Honestly, it felt like progress.

She reached up to adjust a small gold earring, tilting her head before deciding she liked it exactly as it was. Her hair had been styled simply, soft waves falling around her shoulders instead of the messy ponytail she had been living in for days, and the final touch of makeup had done more for her confidence than she expected.

She took one last look at herself in the mirror, allowing herself to enjoy the small victory of feeling like a person again instead of simply someone trying to get through the next hour. It was such a simple thing, standing there in a hotel room in Hungary, wearing a dress and fixing her earrings, but after the past few days, it felt almost strangely important.

She wasn't pretending everything was suddenly perfect.

She wasn't forgetting what had happened.

She wasn't magically healed because she had managed to sleep for one hour and put on makeup.

But she was finally allowing herself to exist outside of that fear for a moment and that mattered.

Behind her, the hotel room remained completely quiet except for the occasional soft sound of movement coming from the other side of the space. Lando had been awake for much longer than she had. In fact, he had already lived through an entire morning while she was finally getting the rest her body desperately needed.

After dropping her at the hotel room following their drive from the airport, he had been incredibly patient about everything. He hadn't rushed her. He hadn't pushed her to immediately talk about what happened or ask endless questions about how she was feeling. Instead, he had simply taken care of the small things.

He had made sure she showered, changed into something comfortable, drank some water, and actually ate something before even mentioning sleep.

And then, when she finally admitted that she felt like she could close her eyes for a little while, he had promised her she would sleep.

Not because he could control whether her brain would allow it.

But because he would make sure she felt safe enough to try.

He had quietly set an alarm, lowered the curtains, adjusted the temperature of the room, and told her to stop worrying about the time because he would handle everything else. When she finally fell asleep, curled up beneath the hotel blankets wearing one of his oversized hoodies, Lando had stayed there for several minutes just watching her breathe.

It had been the first time in days that she looked genuinely peaceful.

So he had let her sleep.

He had gone downstairs, had breakfast, answered a few messages, checked in with McLaren, and spent some time reviewing his qualifying data on his laptop while waiting for her to wake up naturally.

The irony wasn't lost on him.

A few hours earlier, he had been the one telling her she needed to rest.

Now he was sitting there analyzing telemetry while occasionally looking toward the bedroom area every few minutes like he was checking whether she was still there.

Very typical Lando.

Amelie didn't notice him immediately.

She was too focused on herself, too distracted by the unfamiliar feeling of liking what she saw in the mirror again. She adjusted the fabric near her waist one more time, turning slightly to look at the back of the dress before letting out a small satisfied hum.

—Okay, maybe this wasn't a terrible choice,— she whispered.

The comment made Lando smile from where he was standing.

He had been watching her reflection for several seconds already.

Not in a way that felt intrusive.

More like someone appreciating a moment they knew was important.

He was leaning casually against the small desk near the window, his laptop open with different data screens still visible, his backpack already prepared beside him. He had changed into his McLaren clothes for the paddock, his hair slightly messy from his shower, and despite the fact that he had a busy afternoon ahead, his attention was completely elsewhere.

He had been staring at her reflection because, for the first time in days, he wasn't seeing the girl who had been scared, exhausted, and constantly trying to convince everyone around her that she was okay.

He was seeing Amelie again.

The Amelie who took five minutes to decide if her earrings matched. The Amelie who would spin around in front of a mirror just because she liked an outfit. The Amelie who could somehow make a random orange dress chosen from a suitcase look like it had been designed specifically for a race weekend.

And, admittedly, the Amelie who looked ridiculously beautiful while doing absolutely nothing.

He pushed himself away from the desk, closing the laptop carefully before walking toward her. His footsteps were quiet against the hotel carpet, but not quiet enough for her not to notice the movement behind her.

Amelie looked up through the mirror just as his reflection appeared behind hers.

A small smile immediately formed on her lips.

—How long have you been standing there?— she asked, turning her head slightly to look at him.

Lando didn't answer right away.

Instead, he continued walking until he was standing directly behind her, his hands naturally finding their way around her waist as he gently pulled her back against his chest. His chin rested lightly near her shoulder, and for a few seconds, he simply looked at both of them together in the mirror.

It was such a normal moment.

Something that, a week ago, wouldn't have seemed particularly special.

But after everything that had happened, after three days of phone calls and worrying from opposite sides of the world, having her standing there beside him felt like something he didn't want to take for granted.

—You know something?— he murmured, his eyes still focused on her reflection. —For this to be your second improvised orange dress this year, you are still somehow making it look unfairly good.—

Amelie couldn't help the laugh that escaped her at his comment.

It was exactly the kind of ridiculous compliment only Lando could give her, delivered with complete seriousness as if he was making an important observation about race strategy rather than simply telling his girlfriend that she looked good in a dress.

She looked back at their reflection in the mirror, his arms still wrapped comfortably around her waist, his body pressed close behind hers, and the contrast between them immediately made her smile. Lando was dressed like he was about to spend the afternoon surrounded by engineers, cameras, and thousands of fans at the circuit, while she looked like she had accidentally stepped into a completely different universe where she was supposed to be attending a summer event instead of walking through a Formula One paddock.

—Unfairly good?— she repeated, raising an eyebrow at him through the mirror. —That's your professional opinion?—

Lando nodded confidently, not even pretending to think about it.

—Absolutely,— Lando answered immediately, his arms tightening slightly around her waist as he continued looking at their reflection together. —I've seen enough orange outfits this year to consider myself somewhat of an expert at this point.—

Amelie laughed softly, shaking her head as she rested her hands over his arms that were comfortably wrapped around her.

—Oh, have you?— she teased. —An expert in orange dresses now?—

—Yeah,— he said with complete confidence, like he was explaining something obvious. —Very competitive field. Very serious. A lot of research involved.—

She turned her head slightly, trying to look at him from the corner of her eye.

—Really?— Amelie asked, the amusement obvious in her voice as she looked at him through the mirror. —And where exactly did you conduct all this important research?—

Lando didn't even hesitate.

—Mostly from the garage,— he replied, completely serious. —Every Sunday I have to analyze the orange situation before a race. Very important data. Very high pressure environment.—

A laugh escaped her again, softer this time, but it was exactly the kind of laugh he had been hoping to hear since the moment she stepped off the plane. The sound was still a little tired, still carrying the weight of the past few days, but it was real.

And that was enough.

—You are such an idiot,— she whispered, shaking her head slightly.

—Yeah,— he agreed easily, pressing a small kiss against the side of her head. —But I'm your idiot, so technically you can't complain.—

Amelie rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face completely ruined any attempt at pretending she disagreed. She turned around slowly inside his arms until she was facing him, her hands naturally resting against his chest.

She stood on her tiptoes just enough to press a soft, lingering kiss against his lips. It was sweet and full of quiet gratitude, a simple way of saying everything she hadn't quite managed to articulate since she had fallen asleep in his bed an hour ago. When she pulled back, she kept her palms resting flat against the familiar logo on his shirt, looking up at him with dark eyes that finally held a bit of their usual warmth.

Lando’s hands remained planted comfortably on her hips, his own lips curving into a soft, contented smile as he looked down at her.

—Ready to go?— he asked gently, his thumb rubbing small, reassuring circles over the orange fabric at her waist.

Amelie nodded without hesitation, taking a small, deep breath to steady herself.

—Ready.—

Lando smiled, leaning down to press one last quick kiss to her forehead before finally letting go. He reached over to grab his black team backpack resting on the nearby desk, throwing one strap over his shoulder with practiced ease. Amelie turned to retrieve her own small bag, making sure her phone was securely tucked inside, before walking back over to where he was waiting by the entryway.

Lando reached out and slipped his fingers through hers, his grip warm and solidly tethering her to the present. He pulled open the heavy hotel door, holding it for her as they finally stepped out into the quiet hallway together, ready to leave the safety of the room behind and head straight toward the chaos of the paddock.

The soft click of the hotel room door closing behind them echoed briefly through the otherwise quiet corridor before disappearing into the thick carpeting beneath their feet. Almost instinctively, Lando's hand tightened around hers for a fraction of a second, a silent reassurance that he wasn't about to let go the moment they stepped back into the real world. The hallway was empty except for the distant sound of another elevator arriving somewhere several floors below, the polished marble walls reflecting the warm afternoon lights as they walked side by side toward the elevators.

Neither of them rushed.

There was no need to.

They still had enough time before they needed to be at the circuit, and for the first time since she'd landed in Hungary, Amelie wasn't counting the minutes or worrying about what came next. She simply matched her steps to his, enjoying the comfortable silence that had settled naturally between them. It wasn't the heavy silence she'd grown to hate over the last few days. This one felt safe, interrupted only by the soft rhythm of their footsteps and the quiet rustle of their clothes brushing together every so often.

When they reached the elevators, the doors opened almost immediately with a muted chime.

Lando guided her inside first before following after her, pressing the button for the lobby as the stainless-steel doors slid shut. The enclosed space became still almost instantly, insulated from the rest of the hotel by thick walls and soft instrumental music drifting quietly through hidden speakers.

The second the elevator began descending, Lando slipped his arm around her shoulders with complete naturalness, drawing her gently against his side until her shoulder rested comfortably against his chest.

She leaned into him without thinking.

His hoodie brushed softly against her bare shoulder where the strap of her orange dress rested, and a moment later she felt his lips press a slow, lingering kiss against her temple.

—I'm really glad you're here,— he murmured quietly, his lips still close enough that she could feel the warmth of every word against her skin.

Amelie's eyes drifted shut for just a second.

—So am I,— she whispered back.

The elevator continued its smooth descent while she rested comfortably against him, listening to the gentle hum of the machinery beneath their feet. She could feel his heartbeat where her shoulder touched his chest, steady and familiar, somehow managing to calm the last lingering nerves that still occasionally surfaced without warning.

The doors eventually slid open onto the lobby.

Instantly, the peaceful cocoon of the elevator disappeared beneath the livelier atmosphere of the hotel.

Guests crossed the polished marble floor dragging suitcases behind them, reception staff greeted new arrivals, and somewhere near the restaurant entrance someone laughed loudly enough for the sound to echo across the open space. Through the enormous glass façade at the front of the building, they could already see the convoy waiting outside.

Two large black SUVs sat parked directly in front of the entrance.

Security personnel stood discreetly around them while fans remained blocked further away by temporary barriers.

Hundreds of them.

Colorful caps, McLaren shirts, flags, handmade signs and phones already held high above people's heads despite not having spotted them yet. The barricades stretched almost the entire length of the hotel entrance, creating a narrow corridor for drivers and guests to reach their cars.

Amelie's steps slowed almost imperceptibly the moment her eyes landed on the crowd outside.

It wasn't dramatic enough for anyone else in the lobby to notice. To everyone around them, she simply looked like someone adjusting her pace before walking through a busy hotel entrance. But Lando felt it immediately. The slight hesitation in her stride traveled straight through their joined hands, and when he glanced sideways, he caught the tiny change in her expression.

Her smile hadn't disappeared.

It had simply become tighter.

Her shoulders, which had finally relaxed during the elevator ride, lifted ever so slightly again, and for the briefest moment her eyes instinctively scanned the crowd beyond the glass instead of simply looking at it.

He knew exactly why.

Three days ago she wouldn't have thought twice about walking through a crowd like this. She would've been smiling before she'd even reached the doors, already planning which signs to read and which little kids she'd stop for.

Now her brain automatically searched for danger before anything else.

Without saying a word, Lando gently squeezed her hand.

She looked up at him.

His expression remained calm, completely free of panic or pity, just steady reassurance.

—Hey,— he said quietly, keeping his voice low enough that only she could hear. —You don't have to stop for anybody today. Just walk straight to the car. Let me deal with everything else, okay?—

Amelie held his gaze for a long second before giving him a small nod.

She appreciated that he hadn't tried to convince her there was nothing to be nervous about. He hadn't dismissed the feeling or told her she was overthinking. He had simply adjusted around it, the same way he always did whenever life suddenly became more complicated than either of them expected. It made the knot in her chest loosen just enough for her to breathe a little easier.

—Okay,— she answered softly.

Lando smiled, bringing their joined hands up for just a second so he could brush his thumb reassuringly across the back of hers before leading her toward the revolving glass doors.

The instant they stepped outside, the atmosphere changed completely.

The quiet murmur of the hotel lobby disappeared beneath a wall of excited voices.

Phones immediately lifted higher above the barricades, camera shutters beginning to fire one after another until they blended into a constant clicking soundtrack. Orange McLaren shirts mixed with homemade signs, Hungarian flags, British flags and even a handful of Mexican flags waved enthusiastically from different sections of the crowd.

Despite the overwhelming noise, Lando never released her hand.

Instead, he subtly shifted their position so he was walking half a step closer to the fans than she was, instinctively placing himself between Amelie and the largest part of the crowd without making it look obvious.

The mixture of different accents blended together beneath the early morning sun, creating the familiar soundtrack of a Formula One weekend. Under different circumstances, Amelie would've instinctively turned toward the barricades with a bright smile already forming on her face, waving at the children sitting on their parents' shoulders and reading the handmade posters held high above the crowd. She had always loved these moments, the little interactions that reminded her how passionate Formula One fans could be.

Today, however, she simply kept her eyes fixed on the waiting SUV.

Not because she didn't appreciate them.

Because every single second spent surrounded by a sea of unfamiliar faces made the lingering trauma of Vancouver flare up beneath her skin, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs as she forced her feet to keep moving forward.

Lando stayed glued to her side, his large hand completely enveloping hers with an iron grip that gave her something solid to hold onto while the loud calls for signatures and photos echoed around them.

Beside the first black SUV, Jon and Mark were already busy tossing the final flight bags into the open trunk, as they were scheduled to travel directly to the airport straight from the paddock once the session concluded later that evening. The trunk was nearly packed, with both trainers working efficiently to secure everything so they wouldn't waste a single second after the track action ended.

Amelie finally allowed herself to slow once they reached the SUV, the tension she'd been carrying across the hotel forecourt easing by a fraction simply because there were now familiar faces waiting for them. Jon looked up first from the open boot, a duffel bag still balanced against his shoulder, and immediately offered her one of the warmest smiles she had seen since landing in Hungary.

—There she is,— he greeted cheerfully. —Long flight?—

Amelie nodded with a tired but genuine smile.

—Very long,— she admitted. —Hi, Jon.—

Mark glanced over from where he was securing another suitcase with one of the luggage straps before offering her a small wave.

—Good to see you, Mel,— he said kindly. —Glad you made it here alright.—

Those simple words unexpectedly made something soften inside her chest. They weren't asking questions, they weren't bringing up Vancouver, and they weren't looking at her with pity. They were simply happy she was there, treating her exactly the same way they always had.

—It's good to see you both too,— she answered sincerely.

Lando gently released her hand only long enough to open the rear passenger door for her, his attention never truly leaving her face. Even now, surrounded by his team and the constant noise of fans calling his name from behind the barricades, he was quietly checking whether she still looked comfortable enough to keep going.

Amelie noticed the silent question hidden in his expression before he ever voiced it, and she answered it with a small reassuring smile that didn't quite reach her tired eyes but was enough to tell him she was alright for now. She lightly squeezed his wrist where his hand still rested on the edge of the open door before carefully lowering herself into the back seat of the SUV, smoothing the orange skirt beneath her legs as she settled against the cool leather seats. The moment she was inside, the outside noise became slightly muffled, creating a small barrier between her and the sea of voices that had surrounded the hotel entrance only seconds earlier.

—I’ll be okay,— she murmured softly before he stepped away.

Lando gave a single nod.

—I know you will.—

He waited until she had closed the door behind herself before gently pressing it shut the rest of the way, making sure it latched properly. Only then did he finally turn back toward the barricades, immediately lifting one hand in greeting as another wave of cheers erupted from the waiting crowd.

The fans had clearly been waiting for him.

The moment he approached the barriers, dozens of caps, die-cast cars, photographs and McLaren hats stretched toward him from every direction, accompanied by an overwhelming chorus of voices all trying to capture his attention at once.

Lando moved along the barricade with rapid, efficient practice, his silver marker gliding smoothly across pristine cap brims, miniature helmets, and glossy photographs offered up by the enthusiastic Hungarian crowd. He smiled politely for quick, frantic selfies, nodding attentively as fans shouted congratulations for his pole position, but his eyes kept darting back toward the dark, heavily tinted windows of the SUV every few seconds to make sure Amelie was still sitting comfortably inside.

Within less than two minutes, he offered a polite, sweeping wave to the remaining crowd, politely thanking them before turning around and jogging straight back to the vehicle. He opened the rear door and pulled himself inside, the heavy door shutting out the chaotic roar of the fans with a solid, satisfying thud.

The spacious leather interior was already occupied by his core team—Jon and Mark sitting comfortably in the row ahead of them, quietly checking their phones while the driver adjusted his side mirrors. Lando immediately slid across the soft leather seat, sinking down right next to Amelie and instantly reaching out to take her hand again, lacing his fingers through hers with an easy, protective warmth.

Before the driver could even put the vehicle into gear, Lando leaned forward between the front seats, his tone polite but firm as he addressed the local driver.

—Could we head in through the back entrance today, please?— he asked the driver politely. —If that's alright. I'd rather avoid the main gate if we can.—

The driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror, nodding without a second thought.

—Of course, Mr. Norris. We’ll take the rear team access route behind the hospitality units. It’s completely closed off to the general media.—

Amelie felt a sudden, profound wave of sweet relief wash over her chest at his words. The thought of having to navigate through a dense, flashbulb-filled gauntlet of photographers at the main turnstiles had been quietly weighing on her mind ever since they left the hotel room, and watching Lando effortlessly handle the situation before she even had to ask made her heart swell with affection.

She looked over at him, a soft, incredibly tender smile pulling at her lips. Without saying a word, Amelie leaned sideways, gently resting her head directly against the solid, comfortable slope of his shoulder. She closed her eyes, letting the clean, familiar scent of his cologne envelop her senses as the SUV began its smooth, steady journey toward the Hungaroring.

Lando shifted slightly to accommodate her weight, lifting his arm just enough to wrap it securely around her waist and pull her a little closer against his side. He pressed a quiet, lingering kiss to the top of her head, resting his cheek against her soft hair as the quiet hum of the engine filled the car.

—Rest for a few minutes, sweetheart,— Lando whispered softly against her hair, his fingers stroking her hip through the soft orange fabric of her dress. —I’ve got you.—

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liked by landoandamelie, gridgirlie, and others

lanmelieupdates: Lando and Amelie arriving at the paddock through the back entrance today 🥹🧡 The two of them were laughing the entire way in, with Amelie wearing the prettiest orange dress ✨

View all 942 comments

papayagirl: THE WAY THEY’RE ALWAYS LAUGHING TOGETHER 😭🤍 they look so in love → lan4ever: literally two best friends who happen to be obsessed with each other → gridgirlie: the smiles say everything

amelieupdates: the orange dress??? she knew exactly what she was doing 🧡✨ → daymanfiles: she looks like sunshine next to him 😭

gridgirlie: wait i actually love that they used the back entrance today → lan4ever: same, after everything that happened recently they deserve some privacy → papayagirl: enjoying the content but respecting their boundaries 🤍

f1wags: not them sneaking in through the back door like they’re trying to avoid us 😭 → gridgirlie: as they should honestly → lan4ever: let them have their quiet moments

landoarchive: LANDO LAUGHING THIS MUCH BEFORE A GP??? amelie effect is real 😭 → papayagirl: someone keep him this happy forever please

daydreamamelie: i know everyone loves seeing them but i’m glad they’re choosing privacy when they can 🫶 → lanmeliehub: exactly, a relationship doesn’t need to be public 24/7 → gridgirlie: boundaries are actually romantic

papayagirl: the fact that they’re walking in laughing instead of posing for cameras 🥹 → lan4ever: that’s how you know it’s genuine → f1wags: they look like a couple on a casual morning walk not two celebrities 😭

gridgirlie: everyone talking about the dress but can we talk about lando’s face??? he looks GONE → lan4ever: man is down bad and has been for years 😭

ameliefiles: orange is officially her paddock color now 🧡 → daymanfiles: she wears his papaya and he matches her energy, i can’t → lanmeliehub: the color coordination without even trying 😭

f1girlie: after the airport situation two days ago, seeing them take precautions makes me happy → gridgirlie: same, fame doesn’t mean people lose the right to privacy → lan4ever: protect them both 🤍

landoandamelie: another day, another “they’re just friends” reminder that nobody believes anymore 😭 → papayagirl: the laughing and hand holding allegations are too strong

lanmeliehub: wishing them a peaceful weekend 🤍 no drama, just good vibes and orange dresses → amelieupdates: YES PLEASE ✨ → daydreamamelie: let them enjoy being happy 🫶

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The paddock had fully come alive by the time the drivers returned from the parade.

The constant hum of conversations blended with the unmistakable sounds of air guns being tested inside garages, hospitality staff rushing between motorhomes carrying trays of coffees, engineers walking briskly with tablets tucked beneath their arms, and photographers attempting to position themselves wherever they thought the next interesting moment might happen.

It was the kind of organized chaos that somehow only existed on race Sundays.

Amelie had spent most of the morning tucked away inside the McLaren motorhome.

After arriving through the quieter service entrance, Lando had barely left her side until his schedule inevitably pulled him away. Driver briefings, engineering meetings, media obligations, the drivers' parade—his day had been planned almost to the minute, and although he clearly would've preferred spending every spare second with her after everything that had happened, Formula One unfortunately didn't pause because life became complicated.

The first few times he had disappeared into meetings, he'd apologized every single time.

By the fourth apology, Amelie had simply laughed, gently pushing him toward the door before McLaren's team coordinator had the opportunity to come looking for their World Champion herself.

—Go,— she had smiled, nudging his shoulder. —I'm perfectly capable of entertaining myself for twenty minutes.—

Twenty minutes, however, had somehow turned into nearly an hour.

Not because Lando had forgotten about her.

Quite the opposite.

Every time he had a spare thirty seconds between meetings, another message appeared on her phone asking whether she needed anything, if she had eaten, or if she wanted someone to walk her somewhere if she decided to leave the motorhome.

She had replied to every single one with the exact same answer.

Ames💛: i'm okay Ames💛: stop worrying 💛

Unfortunately for her, Lando wasn't the only Formula One driver suddenly making it his personal mission to keep track of her whereabouts.

Charles had apparently discovered she was in Hungary less than fifteen minutes after she'd landed this morning.

Ever since then, he had become absolutely relentless.

Her phone buzzed once again against the armrest of the sofa where she had been sitting.

She didn't even need to unlock the screen to know exactly who it was.

Charlie: Where are you?

Amelie sighed the second the notification appeared across her lock screen, already knowing exactly how the conversation was going to unfold because it had been repeating itself for the better part of the last forty-five minutes.

Amelie stared at the message for several seconds before finally unlocking her phone, already knowing that ignoring Charles would only make him worse.

The problem with Charles was that he had two completely opposite settings.

Either he was the calmest, sweetest person in the world, the kind of friend who would remember tiny details about someone's life and show up with coffee without being asked.

Or he became completely incapable of accepting that someone could simply exist without immediately informing him of their location.

Apparently, today was one of those second days.

She typed back while sitting comfortably on the couch inside the McLaren motorhome, her legs tucked beneath her as she watched the constant movement of people passing through the glass walls.

Meels: In the motorhome.

The response came almost immediately.

Charlie: Which motorhome?

Amelie closed her eyes.

Of course.

A small laugh escaped her despite herself, earning a curious glance from one of the McLaren staff members nearby. She simply shook her head, putting her phone down for a moment before picking it up again.

Meels: Charles. Meels: You know exactly which one.

A few seconds passed.

Charlie: Ferrari?

She didn't even bother answering, instead she sent him a simple thumbs-up emoji.

The typing bubble appeared instantly.

Charlie: Good. Charlie: Come here. Charlie: I'm waiting in my room.

Amelie stared at the screen, completely unimpressed.

It was honestly impressive how Charles managed to sound both demanding and somehow adorable at the same time.

She looked around the motorhome, knowing she had a little bit of time before Lando finished his next round of commitments. She could stay there and wait, but she also knew Charles well enough to understand that if she didn't appear soon, he would probably send someone to physically find her.

And considering the amount of chaos already surrounding the paddock, she didn't need another driver creating a scene.

She grabbed her phone from the table and stood up.

The bodyguard Lando had arranged for her immediately noticed the movement, stepping away from where he had been quietly standing near the entrance.

—Heading somewhere?— he asked politely.

—Ferrari,— Amelie answered with a small smile, already knowing exactly what question would come next. —Apparently I have been summoned.—

The bodyguard raised his eyebrows slightly but didn't question it. After everything that had happened in Vancouver, nobody around her was taking unnecessary risks anymore. Even when the destination was another team's motorhome only a few meters away, the routine remained the same. Someone walked with her, someone stayed close enough to react if needed, and someone always knew where she was.

Amelie appreciated it more than she admitted.

Not because she felt incapable of taking care of herself.

Because after the last few days, having someone quietly making sure she never had to worry about the small things was a relief she hadn't expected.

She grabbed her sunglasses from the table, sliding them over her eyes before adjusting the strap of her small bag over her shoulder. The orange dress she was wearing immediately caught the attention of a few people passing through the McLaren hospitality area, not because it was unusual for her to wear the team's color, but because after everything that had happened, seeing her walking around the paddock again felt like a small victory to the fans who had been following the situation online.

Amelie noticed some people looking.

She smiled politely, but didn't stop.

Today wasn't about taking pictures or spending ten minutes signing every cap and poster that appeared in front of her. Today was about moving from one safe space to another, finding the people who made the paddock feel less overwhelming.

And apparently, one of those people was currently waiting for her inside Ferrari.

The walk between motorhomes wasn't long, but in a Formula One paddock, even a short distance could feel like a journey. Every few steps someone greeted her, engineers nodded respectfully, team members smiled when they recognized her, and a few fans standing behind the designated areas called her name.

Her bodyguard stayed a few steps behind her, allowing her enough space while still maintaining a careful watch around her. Amelie noticed how naturally he had adapted to the paddock environment already, how he understood that she didn't want to feel like she was being followed by security everywhere she went but also needed the reassurance that someone was nearby.

By the time the red Ferrari hospitality structure came into view, her phone buzzed again.

She didn't even need to look at the screen this time.

She already knew.

Charles had the patience of a saint when it came to almost everything in life, except apparently waiting for Amelie to arrive somewhere after finding out she was within a five-minute walking distance.

She unlocked her phone anyway.

Charlie: Are you walking or did you get kidnapped?

Amelie stopped for a second, staring at the message with a completely unimpressed expression.

A small laugh escaped her despite herself.

Only Charles Leclerc could somehow make a completely unreasonable question sound like a genuine concern.

She quickly typed back while continuing toward the Ferrari motorhome.

Meels: I'm literally twenty seconds away.

The response came before she had even reached the entrance.

Charlie: Finally.

Amelie shook her head, slipping her phone back into her bag.

—You are unbelievably dramatic,— she murmured quietly to herself.

Her bodyguard, who had heard enough of Charles' messages over the last few days to understand the situation, couldn't help smiling slightly.

—A friend?— he asked casually.

Amelie looked toward the Ferrari hospitality building ahead.

—Unfortunately, yes.—

The comment earned a small amused reaction from him before they continued walking.

The Ferrari motorhome was just as busy as the rest of the paddock. Team members moved quickly between entrances, guests were being guided through the hospitality area, and the unmistakable red colors surrounded every corner of the building. Despite the chaos outside, stepping inside immediately felt different.

There was something familiar about Ferrari.

Maybe it was because Charles had been part of her life for so long. Maybe it was because she had spent enough race weekends around the team to know where everything was. Or maybe it was simply because she knew that somewhere inside this building was one of the people who had always managed to make her laugh, even during the hardest moments.

Her bodyguard remained near the entrance, allowing her to continue alone toward Charles' driver room while staying close enough to intervene if needed. She appreciated the balance. She didn't want every person around her to make her feel like she was fragile, but she also wasn't pretending the last few days hadn't changed things.

She walked through the familiar hallway, passing framed Ferrari photographs and team equipment stacked neatly along the walls. The sound of conversations became quieter the further she went until finally she reached the door she knew belonged to Charles.

She raised her hand and knocked twice against the door, although she already knew there was a high possibility Charles would have opened it before she even finished the second knock if he had been waiting as impatiently as his messages suggested.

Nothing.

Amelie frowned slightly.

For someone who had practically been monitoring her GPS location through text messages for the last hour, the silence was suspicious.

She knocked once more, louder this time.

—Charles?— she called through the door.

Still nothing.

A small part of her wondered if he had somehow gotten distracted by another meeting, which would have been the most Charles thing possible. He could spend forty-five minutes insisting someone come see him immediately and then completely forget he was the one who requested the meeting in the first place.

Amelie sighed softly, placing one hand on the door handle before pushing it open carefully.

—Charles?— she called again, stepping inside.

The first thing she noticed was that the room was not empty.

Actually, someone was very clearly inside.

Max Verstappen was sitting comfortably on the small couch placed against the wall, one ankle resting casually over his opposite knee while he stared down at his phone. He looked completely at home, which honestly wasn't that surprising considering how often he seemed to appear in random places where nobody expected him to be.

He didn't even look up immediately.

He simply continued typing something on his phone as if Amelie walking into Charles Leclerc's driver room was the most normal thing in the world.

She stopped just inside the doorway, her eyebrows immediately pulling together in confusion.

The door closed softly behind her and Max finally looked up.

His eyes widened slightly the moment he realized who was standing there.

For a second, neither of them said anything.

Amelie simply stared at him, one hand still resting on the strap of her bag while her brain tried to understand why the person sitting in Charles' driver room was not, in fact, Charles.

Max, on the other hand, looked equally confused.

He slowly lowered his phone onto his lap, his eyebrows lifting as he looked toward her orange dress and then toward the closed door behind her.

—What are you doing here?— he asked first, completely genuine.

Amelie blinked at him.

The question was so unexpectedly similar to the one she had been about to ask that for a second she didn't even know how to respond.

—Excuse me?— she finally said, pointing between him and the room around them. —I'm here because Charles has been practically harassing me through text messages for the last hour telling me to come to his driver room. The real question is why are you here?—

Max looked down at his phone for a second as if checking whether he had somehow missed a crucial piece of information, then looked back at her with the same confused expression.

—Charles told me to come here too,— he explained simply.

—That is somehow both helpful and not helpful at all,— Amelie muttered, stepping further into the room while looking around as if Charles might suddenly appear from behind a piece of furniture and explain the entire situation himself.

Max simply shrugged, picking his phone back up for a second before looking at her again.

—He said it was important,— he added, his expression still slightly confused. —But he didn't tell me what it was about.—

Amelie stared at him.

That was unusual.

Charles was many things. Dramatic, emotional, incredibly expressive, occasionally impossible to deal with when he became determined about something. But he was rarely secretive. Especially with Max. Those two had known each other long enough that they usually communicated with the kind of effortless understanding that came from years of racing together.

The fact that Charles had separately summoned both of them without explaining anything immediately made her suspicious.

—Okay,— Amelie said slowly, placing her bag on the nearest chair. —This is officially weird.—

Max nodded.

—Very weird.—

The two of them sat there in silence for a few seconds, both clearly trying to figure out what exactly Charles was planning. Amelie crossed her arms over her chest, looking toward the door every few moments while Max casually returned to whatever he had been doing on his phone.

It was almost funny.

If someone had walked into the room at that exact moment, they probably would've assumed this was a completely normal gathering. Max Verstappen sitting comfortably inside Ferrari's driver room, Amelie Dayman standing there in an orange dress, both of them waiting for Charles Leclerc to appear and explain himself.

Except, somehow, this was actually their reality.

The silence lasted exactly long enough for Amelie to start wondering whether Charles had somehow planned the entire thing just to watch two of his closest friends become increasingly confused in his driver room.

Knowing him, honestly, it was not completely impossible.

She had known Charles for too many years to ignore the possibility that behind the innocent, sweet, slightly chaotic personality there was someone who occasionally enjoyed creating unnecessary drama simply because he found everyone's reactions entertaining. Max was no different in that sense. The difference was that Max usually did it with a completely straight face, while Charles would eventually break and start laughing the second someone figured out what he was doing.

Amelie was just about to pull out her phone and send Charles a string of deeply offensive emojis when the door to the driver's room suddenly burst open with unnecessary, calculated flair.

Charles stepped inside, pausing for a split second in the doorway as if he were waiting for a round of applause to echo through the small space. He was wearing his red Ferrari team kit, his brown hair styled with its usual effortless precision, and he possessed the distinct aura of a man who believed he was currently directing an Oscar-winning psychological thriller.

He slowly closed the door behind him, leaning his back against it for a long, dramatic beat while staring intently at the two people in front of him.

—You might be asking yourselves why I have asked you both to come here today,— Charles declared, lowering his voice into a gravelly, cinematic register that made Max audibly groan.

Amelie pressed two fingers against the bridge of her nose, letting out a long, heavy sigh.

—Charles, please,— Amelie pleaded, pointing an accusing finger at him. —I literally haven't slept properly in three days, I walked across the paddock looking like a bright orange highlighter, and I am far too exhausted for whatever theater kid performance you are trying to put on right now.—

Max didn't even look up from his phone screen as he added, —If this is about your padel loss yesterday, I’m leaving.—

Charles completely ignored both of their complaints. He smoothed down the front of his red team shirt, took three purposeful steps toward them, and gestured grandly toward the empty cushion right beside Max on the couch.

—Amelie, please. Join Max on the couch,— Charles instructed with absolute seriousness, making a pressing motion with his hands until she begrudgingly moved across the room and sank into the soft leather beside the Dutchman.

Amelie crossed her arms over her chest, exchanging a quick, wary glance with Max, who had finally locked his phone and tossed it onto the coffee table. Both of them stared up at Charles, who was now pacing back and forth in front of them with his hands clasped tightly behind his back.

Charles cleared his throat, stopping mid-stride to look down at both of them with an unusually intense, nervous glint in his eyes. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, beautifully wrapped white box tied with a silky golden ribbon, holding it delicately between his fingers as if it contained fragile glass.

—Now,— Charles began, his voice dropping into a solemn, reflective tone that instantly piqued their interest. —I know you two, along with basically the rest of the paddock and the media, might have been asking yourselves why Alex hasn't been around as much lately. Why she stayed back in Monaco instead of traveling to the last few races...—

—And why every single time someone asks me about her, I suddenly become very good at changing the subject,— Charles continued, his fingers tightening slightly around the small box as the seriousness in his expression slowly began replacing the playful dramatics he had started with. —I know everyone has noticed. I know you both have noticed. Honestly, I am surprised you didn't figure it out sooner.—

Amelie immediately narrowed her eyes.

There was something about the way Charles was speaking that made every instinct in her body suddenly shift from amusement to suspicion. She knew him too well. She knew the difference between Charles being dramatic because he enjoyed creating a scene and Charles being dramatic because he was genuinely trying to prepare someone for something important.

This was the second one.

And that made her nervous.

Max, who had been casually leaning back against the couch moments earlier, straightened slightly as well. His usual relaxed expression softened, his attention moving completely away from the phone that had previously distracted him.

—Charles,— Max said slowly, looking between him and the box in his hands. —What are you doing?—

Charles smiled.

Not his usual mischievous smile.

Not the one he wore when he was about to make a ridiculous joke or tease someone during a press conference.

This one was different.

It was nervous.

Almost impossibly happy.

The kind of smile people had when they were holding onto a secret so big that keeping it inside felt physically impossible.

—You might also be asking yourselves why I have been leaving the paddock earlier sometimes,— Charles continued, ignoring Max's question completely. —Why Alex suddenly had more appointments, why she stopped joining me for every race weekend, why she has been telling everyone she is simply "busy" whenever someone asks where she is.—

Amelie looked at him carefully.

Her heart started beating slightly faster.

Because suddenly, the possibilities running through her mind became much bigger than whatever prank she had initially assumed he was preparing.

—Charles...— she said quietly. —Please tell me you don't regret the whole marriage thing,— Amelie blurted out before she could stop herself, her eyes widening slightly as the words left her mouth.

The seriousness on Charles' face immediately cracked for half a second.

Not completely.

Just enough for a small, almost offended smile to appear on his lips.

—What?— he asked, looking genuinely shocked. —Amelie, no.—

Max let out a quiet laugh beside her, shaking his head as he looked between them.

—That was your first thought?—

Amelie immediately looked at him.

—You saw the dramatic entrance, the secret meeting, the box, the mysterious explanation about Alex disappearing, and somehow your brain did not go there?—

Max opened his mouth to answer, then paused.

Because, unfortunately, when she said it like that, it did sound like a reasonable possibility.

Charles sighed dramatically, although this time the amusement in his expression was mixed with something much softer.

—You two have known me for too long and somehow still think I am capable of creating that level of chaos.—

—You literally summoned us separately to your driver's room without telling us why,— Max pointed out.

—Fair,— Charles admitted immediately.

Amelie couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her.

It was such a Charles thing to do. He could make the most beautiful, emotional moment of his life feel like a badly planned mystery movie. He had always been like that. Even when something mattered deeply to him, even when he was nervous, he somehow managed to turn everything into a performance.

But now that she was looking at him properly, she could see it.

The nervousness beneath the excitement.

The way his fingers kept moving around the small box.

The way he kept taking small breaths as if he was trying to convince himself that this was actually happening.

Charles wasn't creating drama.

He was scared.

Not scared in a bad way.

Scared because something was so important that he wanted every detail to be perfect.

His expression softened when he noticed both of them were finally paying full attention.

—Just open the box,— he said quietly.

The playful tone was gone.

Completely.

For the first time since walking into the room, Charles looked less like the Ferrari driver everyone knew and more like their friend.

The person who had spent years sitting with them after difficult races, celebrating their victories, listening to their problems, and somehow becoming family despite the chaotic nature of their lives.

Charles gently stepped forward and extended his arms, carefully placing the small, gold-ribboned box right into the center of Amelie’s lap.

Max instinctively leaned in closer, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes fixed on the neat, white package sitting between them. Amelie looked up at Charles one last time, searching his face for any final clue, but the Monegasque driver simply folded his hands together, biting his lower lip in absolute, silent anticipation.

Amelie took a soft, steadying breath, her fingers gently pulling at the smooth silk of the gold ribbon. The knot unraveled effortlessly, falling away onto the leather sofa. She lifted the fitted lid, revealing a layer of delicate, white tissue paper tucked inside.

Beside her, Max reached over and helped pull the paper back.

Lying neatly at the bottom of the box was a crisp, black-and-white thermal printout—a clear, unmistakable ultrasound scan image. Taped just below the small, curved profile of a tiny baby was a little wooden plaque with neat, elegant calligraphy burned into the surface: Baby Leclerc — Coming Soon.

For a second, complete and total silence descended over the small driver’s room.

Amelie’s breath hitched sharply in her throat, her eyes widening as she stared at the tiny image resting in her hands. The realization hit her with the force of a sudden, overwhelming wave of joy, completely wiping away every trace of residual fatigue and stress she had been carrying all morning.

—Oh... my God,— Amelie gasped, her voice cracking as her hands flew up to cover her mouth, hot tears of pure happiness instantly welling up in her eyes.

Max stared at the scan for two full seconds, his usual composed, stoic expression completely shattering as a massive, genuine grin spread across his face. He let out a loud, disbelieving laugh, looking straight up at Charles, who was standing there with tears glistening in his own eyes, a ridiculously proud, emotional smile plastered across his face.

—No way!— Max exclaimed, pushing himself off the couch and immediately grabbing Charles by the shoulders, pulling his long-time rival and close friend into a fierce, energetic hug, roughing up his hair. —No way, mate! Are you serious? You're going to be a dad?!—

—I'm serious, man! I'm going to be a dad!— Charles laughed through his tears, hugging Max back tightly before pulling away to look at Amelie, who was still sitting on the couch with her hands trembling slightly around the ultrasound picture.

Amelie set the box carefully onto the coffee table, scrambling up off the couch without another second of hesitation and throwing her arms tightly around Charles' neck. Charles caught her effortlessly, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her slightly off the ground, resting his chin against her shoulder as both of them laughed through happy tears.

—I am so, so happy for you and Alex!— Amelie cried out softly, pulling back just enough to frame his face with her hands, looking at him with endless affection. —You are going to be the most incredible dad, Charles. Absolutely incredible. I can't believe you kept this a secret from us!—

—It was so hard!— Charles admitted, wiping a stray tear from his cheek as he finally set her feet back on the floor, laughing breathlessly. —Alex wanted to make sure everything was completely safe and healthy before we said a word to anyone outside the immediate family. She’s twelve weeks today! That’s why she stayed home in Monaco, she’s been dealing with the worst morning sickness, but she wanted me to tell you two in person this weekend.—

—That is amazing news, Charles. Honestly, congratulations,— Max said warmly, stepping over and clapping a hand onto Charles’ shoulder again, his broad smile still firmly in place. —Although... the paddock is going to be an absolute nightmare once the baby is born. You know that, right?—

Charles grinned, shaking his head. —I don't care. I honestly don't care about anything else right now.—

Amelie looked back down at the ultrasound printout sitting on the table, a radiant, soft expression gracing her face as she looked at her two long-time friends standing beside her. In a world that was so often loud, overwhelming, and unpredictable, moments like this were a beautiful reminder of the tight, unbreakable family they had built together over the years.

—Lando is going to lose his mind when he finds out,— Amelie smiled warmly, looking back up at Charles. —You know he’s going to demand to be the godfather, right?—

Charles let out a bright, dramatic laugh, shaking his head. —He can fight Max for it.—

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

liked by papayagirl, lanmeliehub, and others

f1wagupdates: Amelie Dayman watching the race from the McLaren garage today via the F1 broadcast

View all 583 comments

papayagirl: PLEASE DON’T JINX IT 😭😭😭 → lan4ever: everyone stay CALM we still have laps left

gridgirlie: the way she’s watching every single lap like she’s the one driving 😭 → amelieupdates: she gets so invested it’s actually adorable → lanmeliehub: honorary McLaren strategist at this point

papayagirl: PUT THE CAMERA DOWN AND STOP MAKING ME NERVOUS 😭 → lan4ever: she’s literally just existing and we’re all stressed → gridgirlie: girlfriend of the leader curse is real 💀

landoarchive: Lando leading and Amelie in the garage… the vibes are IMMACULATE 🧡 → papayagirl: don’t say anything until the chequered flag PLEASE

f1wags: not the broadcast constantly showing Amelie’s reactions every time Lando pulls away 😭 → gridgirlie: the producers know exactly what they’re doing → ameliefiles: they’re feeding the lanmelie fans today

daydreamamelie: i love seeing how supportive she is but also… girl breathe because WE are stressed too 😭 → lan4ever: she looks more nervous than happy right now → papayagirl: she’s probably counting every corner

mclarenfans: Lando P1 AND Amelie watching from the garage??? 🧡🧡🧡 → gridgirlie: manifesting a papaya podium celebration

papayagirl: everyone saying “Lando has won” when there are still laps left… PLEASE LEARN FROM HISTORY 😭 → f1wags: exactly!!! celebrate after the flag → gridgirlie: the motorsport gods are watching 👀

lanmeliehub: the little smile she did when he crossed the line first in that sector 🥹 → amelieupdates: she’s his biggest supporter and it shows → papayagirl: i need to see her reaction after the actual finish

f1girlie: imagine being in the garage watching your boyfriend fight for a win in real time… my heart couldn’t handle it 😭

landoandamelie: no celebrations yet!!! everyone manifest quietly 🤍🏁 → papayagirl: ZIP IT EVERYONE UNTIL THE CHEQUERED FLAG 😭 → lanmeliehub: emergency group silence activated 🫡

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

The instant the chequered flag waved above the Hungaroring, the entire McLaren garage exploded.

Months of pressure, endless strategy meetings, difficult weekends, and near-misses all disappeared beneath an eruption of orange shirts, shouting voices, and people throwing their arms around whoever happened to be standing closest. Headsets were ripped off almost as quickly as they had been put on that day, engineers who normally celebrated with nothing more than a restrained smile were suddenly yelling loud enough to be heard over the screaming V8 support series still echoing around the circuit, and mechanics who had spent the previous two hours performing flawless pit stops were now jumping into each other's arms without the slightest concern for professionalism.

Amelie had been on her feet before the timing tower had even officially confirmed it.

She didn't remember standing.

She didn't remember setting the headset down on the counter beside her.

She only remembered the overwhelming rush of emotion that flooded through her chest the second the words Race Winner – Lando Norris appeared across every screen inside the garage.

Around her, the celebration had become beautifully uncontrollable.

Someone behind her was already crying.

Another mechanic had climbed onto one of the tyre trolleys just long enough to throw both fists into the air before immediately jumping back down to hug the nearest colleague. Andrea Stella disappeared somewhere beneath what looked like half the strategy team embracing him simultaneously, while camera operators scrambled backwards trying desperately not to get swallowed by the sea of jubilant papaya uniforms.

The deafening roar inside the McLaren garage only seemed to grow louder with every passing second.

Someone had already turned the volume of Lando's team radio all the way up, allowing his breathless laugh to echo through the speakers one more time as Will Joseph's voice broke with emotion while congratulating him on a victory that had taken far longer than anyone inside the team had expected.

Every replay playing across the timing monitors showed a different angle of the same moment: the papaya car crossing the finish line, Lando punching the air inside the cockpit before screaming something completely incoherent over the radio, the realization finally settling in that after months of chasing it, McLaren had won again.

Their World Champion had finally won as World Champion.

Amelie couldn't stop smiling.

She wasn't even aware that tears had started gathering in her eyes until someone beside her laughed softly and pulled her into another quick hug. She accepted it automatically, returning every congratulation directed toward her despite knowing perfectly well that she had done absolutely nothing to deserve being congratulated herself.

Flo found her almost immediately.

Amelie had barely managed to disentangle herself from another congratulatory hug before a familiar voice cut through the chaos surrounding the McLaren garage.

—I knew you'd be crying,— Flo laughed as she reached her, immediately wrapping one arm around Amelie's shoulders before pulling her into a tight hug of her own.

Amelie let out a watery laugh, wiping quickly beneath one eye.

—I am not crying.—

Flo leaned back just enough to look at her face.

Her mascara had survived thanks to the waterproof formula, but the unmistakable shine in her eyes gave her away immediately.

—Right,— Flo replied with an exaggerated nod. —And I'm secretly driving the car next weekend.—

Amelie couldn't even argue.

She simply laughed again, the sound mixing with the deafening celebrations continuing around them as Nolan appeared beside Flo carrying two team caps someone had apparently thrown into the crowd of celebrating family members.

Flo laughed again, the sound nearly disappearing beneath the deafening celebration still echoing through every corner of the McLaren garage. Before Amelie had the chance to defend herself, Nolan appeared beside them carrying two spare headsets he had somehow ended up holding during the chaos, looking equally amused as he glanced between the two women.

—I don't know,— Nolan grinned, folding one headset beneath his arm. —From where I was standing, it definitely looked like crying.—

—I hate both of you,— Amelie replied, although the enormous smile refusing to leave her face completely ruined any attempt at sounding convincing.

—No, you don't,— Flo answered immediately, linking her arm through Amelie's before she even had time to protest. —Now come on. If we don't leave now, every mechanic in this garage is going to beat us to parc fermé.—

Amelie didn't need to be told twice.

The moment Flo gently tugged on her arm, the two women instinctively started weaving through the celebrating garage together while Nolan followed only a step behind, politely excusing himself every few seconds as another engineer or mechanic unexpectedly stepped into their path to embrace somebody else.

Leaving the garage proved far more difficult than entering it had been before the race.

The narrow space between the equipment cases had transformed into an obstacle course made almost entirely of ecstatic human beings. Mechanics were embracing one another so enthusiastically they barely noticed people trying to pass between them. Engineers who had spent the entire afternoon glued to strategy monitors were suddenly laughing with an openness that almost looked unfamiliar after months of pressure. Someone had already produced a portable speaker from somewhere inside the hospitality unit, and music had begun competing with the endless chorus of congratulations ringing throughout the paddock.

The three of them finally spilled out of the McLaren garage and into the already overflowing pit lane, where the atmosphere somehow managed to be even louder than it had been inside. Team personnel from every garage lined the narrow strip of asphalt separating the pit wall from the garages, each group waiting for their own driver to return from parc fermé. Orange, navy blue, and black uniforms blended together beneath the afternoon sunshine, television cameras darted from one celebration to the next, photographers climbed onto every available platform searching for the perfect angle, and somewhere overhead the unmistakable thrum of the television helicopter still circled lazily above the Hungaroring.

Flo tightened her arm around Amelie's almost instinctively as they navigated through the growing crowd, both of them smiling so hard their cheeks had started hurting. Nolan stayed only a pace behind, his eyes constantly scanning ahead so neither of them accidentally walked into one of the countless television cables snaking across the ground. Every few steps another McLaren employee hurried past them at almost a run, all heading toward the same destination with the same expression of barely contained excitement.

The energy was infectious.

Even people completely unrelated to McLaren's victory seemed unable to stop smiling as they watched the celebrations unfold around them. Mechanics from rival teams applauded while making room for orange shirts rushing toward parc fermé, journalists abandoned interviews halfway through when they realized Norris was about to return, and FIA officials who normally maintained perfectly neutral expressions couldn't entirely hide the small smiles tugging at the corners of their mouths.

Ahead of them, the familiar corridor leading into parc fermé had already formed.

McLaren mechanics occupied the largest section closest to where Lando would emerge, standing shoulder to shoulder in two neat lines that were quickly becoming far less neat as more people squeezed in from behind. Just beside them stood Red Bull personnel waiting for Max, while Mercedes mechanics had already gathered to congratulate Kimi after another podium finish. The narrow opening between the teams had almost completely disappeared beneath hundreds of people eager to welcome the top three finishers.

Amelie slowed slightly as they approached the back of the crowd.

Her eyes immediately searched for an opening.

There wasn't one.

All she could see were rows upon rows of mechanics, engineers, television crew members and photographers standing shoulder to shoulder, creating what looked less like a walkway and more like an impenetrable human wall.

Flo stopped beside her, craning her neck in an attempt to see over the sea of papaya uniforms.

—I think that's as close as we're getting,— she admitted after a few seconds, letting out a small laugh. —Honestly, we'll still see him from here. It's fine. He'll come over after the interviews anyway.—

Nolan nodded in agreement.

—Probably safer too,— he added, glancing toward the increasingly crowded entrance to parc fermé. —It's absolute chaos up there.—

Amelie barely heard either of them.

Her attention had already drifted far beyond the wall of orange uniforms standing between her and the parc fermé entrance. She rose slightly onto the tips of her toes, trying to peer over the shoulders of the mechanics in front of her, but every angle was blocked by broad backs, headsets, cameras and people stretching their necks toward the same destination.

She frowned.

Absolutely not.

After everything the past few days had thrown at both of them, after the fear, the sleepless nights, the last-minute flight across the world, the quiet moments in the hotel room where Lando had simply held her until she finally believed she was safe enough to sleep, she wasn't about to celebrate his first victory as reigning World Champion from three rows behind a group of engineers.

—Amelie...— Flo warned with an amused smile, already recognizing the determined look spreading across her face.

Flo knew that look.

It was the exact same expression Amelie had whenever she had decided something in her head and there was absolutely no chance anyone around her was going to convince her otherwise. It was the look she had when she decided to surprise Lando after a difficult race weekend, the look she had when she insisted on walking through a crowd because a little kid was holding a sign with her name on it, the look that usually meant everyone else had about five seconds to accept whatever plan she had already created.

—Amelie,— Flo repeated, laughing slightly because she could already see where this was going.

But Amelie barely acknowledged her warning.

She adjusted the strap of her small bag over her shoulder, took a quick look at the wall of McLaren mechanics blocking their view, and then looked back toward where she knew Lando would eventually appear.

Somewhere beyond all those people was the person who had just won his first race as a World Champion... and she wanted to be there.

—Excuse me,— Amelie said politely at first, stepping forward.

The first few mechanics barely noticed her.

Everyone was too focused on the anticipation building around them. People were checking the screens above the garages, watching the timing feed, waiting for the first glimpse of the papaya car returning from parc fermé. Some were holding flags, others had their phones ready, and a few were already emotional after witnessing the victory.

Amelie tried again, this time placing a gentle hand against the shoulder of the nearest mechanic to get his attention without being rude.

—Sorry, excuse me,— she repeated, her voice slightly louder this time.

The mechanic finally turned around, his face immediately forming the familiar expression of someone who had been interrupted during what was probably one of the most important emotional moments of his entire season. His eyebrows pulled together slightly, ready to politely explain that there really wasn't anywhere else to move because everyone was trying to see the same thing.

The mechanic opened his mouth, clearly prepared to explain that there was nowhere for anyone else to squeeze through, but whatever sentence had been forming immediately disappeared the second his eyes actually focused on the person standing in front of him.

The irritation vanished almost instantly.

His expression changed from confusion to surprise, then to a smile that grew wider as recognition settled in.

—Oh,— he said, almost laughing at himself. —Sorry, Amelie.—

He immediately stepped aside.

The reaction was almost contagious.

The two mechanics beside him, who had been standing shoulder to shoulder and completely blocking any possible entrance, noticed who was trying to pass and followed his movement without hesitation. One moved back, then another, and within seconds the seemingly impossible wall of papaya uniforms began opening a path.

Amelie offered them a grateful smile as she slipped through.

—Thank you,— she repeated every few steps.

A few mechanics who recognized her immediately smiled, some even congratulating her before she had fully passed.

—He was looking for you,— one of them mentioned casually, causing Amelie’s smile to grow even bigger.

She didn't even need to ask who they meant.

The simple sentence followed her the entire way through the small opening that had formed in the crowd.

Even after one of the biggest moments of his career, even after crossing the finish line first for the first time as a Formula One World Champion, even after finally breaking McLaren's long wait for another victory, a part of him was still searching for the one person he wanted to share it with first.

Amelie felt her chest tighten slightly.

Not from anxiety this time.

From something much warmer.

She continued moving forward with Flo still linked through her arm, although now Flo was laughing quietly beside her because she had seen exactly what had happened. She had watched Amelie politely ask for space, watched the mechanics prepare to refuse, and then watched every single one of them immediately move the second they realized who was standing there.

—You do realize you just bullied your way through an entire pit lane full of mechanics, right?— Flo teased, although the amusement in her voice made it obvious she wasn't actually criticizing her.

Amelie looked over her shoulder with an innocent expression.

—I asked nicely,— Amelie defended herself, her expression completely serious despite the fact that both Flo and Nolan knew exactly how little truth there was behind that statement.

Flo laughed harder at that answer, shaking her head as Nolan caught up beside them, clearly having witnessed the entire operation from a few steps behind.

—You did ask nicely,— Nolan agreed, completely straight-faced. —For about three seconds. Then you activated the celebrity privilege.—

Amelie immediately turned around to look at him with fake offense.

—I did not activate anything.—

—You walked through a wall of professional athletes and engineers who were not moving for anyone else because they saw you and immediately created a path,— Nolan pointed out, raising his eyebrows. —That is literally the definition of activating something.—

Flo laughed again, squeezing Amelie's arm.

—He's right, you know.—

Amelie opened her mouth to argue, but the sound of a huge cheer rising from the front of the crowd interrupted her before she could respond.

It wasn't the general celebration that had been filling the pit lane since the chequered flag. This was different. This was the unmistakable sound of a driver finally appearing after one of the biggest moments of his career and through the small opening between the team members, Amelie finally caught her first glimpse of him.

Lando had already completed the mandatory parc fermé procedures, already climbed out of the car that had carried him to his first victory of the season, already exchanged the initial congratulations with Max and Kimi, but somehow the exhaustion of the race was now becoming visible in every small detail.

He stood near the edge of the parc fermé area surrounded by cameras, engineers, and officials, but for the first time since crossing the finish line, the adrenaline that had carried him through the final laps was finally beginning to fade.

The helmet was already gone, his racing suit partially loosened around his waist, and his hair was completely flattened from the pressure of the balaclava he had been wearing for almost two hours. His face carried the unmistakable signs of a brutal race: sweat still visible along his forehead, cheeks slightly flushed from the heat inside the cockpit, and the tiredness of someone who had just pushed himself far beyond the limit.

He was drinking from a bottle of water, taking long desperate sips as he listened half-heartedly to one of the engineers explaining something about the final stint.

But his eyes weren't focused on the conversation.

They were searching.

They moved constantly across the crowd gathered around him, scanning through the sea of orange shirts, cameras, and familiar faces.

Because even though everyone around him was celebrating, even though hundreds of people wanted his attention, even though this was the moment every driver dreamed of, there was still one person he wanted to see.

Amelie took a single, deep breath as she stepped completely through the final row of mechanics into the open sunlight of parc fermé.

Seeing him standing there—looking so visibly exhausted, his shoulders slightly slouched beneath the unzipped racing suit, yet still relentlessly scanning the sea of faces—made every single lingering piece of anxiety from the past few days completely vanish into thin air. He wasn't looking at the cameras. He wasn't looking at the trophy waiting on the table. He was simply looking for her.

Before she could even think, Amelie cupped both hands around her mouth and shouted his name as loud as her lungs would allow over the roaring crowd.

—Lando!—

The sound of her voice, distinct and unmistakable even through the wall of shouting fans, clicking cameras, and celebrating mechanics, cut straight through the chaos surrounding the parc fermé enclosure.

Lando froze mid-sip.

The water bottle in his hand dropped instantly to his side, his head snapping around toward the sound before his brain had even fully processed it. His eyes darted past the row of mechanics, past the waving flags and flashing camera lenses, until they locked onto the exact spot where Amelie was standing in her bright orange dress, her arm still loosely linked with Flo's while the crowd parted around her.

The instant his eyes met hers, every trace of exhaustion simply vanished from his face.

A massive, breathless smile broke completely across his face—the kind of bright, completely unfiltered smile that reached his eyes and crinkled the corners in that familiar, boyish way she loved so much. He didn't say a word to the FIA official standing beside him, nor did he wait for his press manager to clear a path. He simply tossed the half-empty water bottle onto a nearby tyre stack and started walking—almost running—straight toward her with quick, purposeful strides.

The crowd of McLaren mechanics made way for him instantly, cheering even louder as they realized where their World Champion was heading.

Amelie unlinked her arm from Flo's and took two quick steps forward, completely ignoring the cameras that immediately swiveled in her direction. She didn't care about the press, she didn't care about the broadcast, and she certainly didn't care that he was completely drenched in sweat from driving seventy grueling laps in the blistering Hungarian heat.

The second Lando reached her, he didn't even hesitate.

The low metal barricade separating the parc fermé area from the section where families and team guests waited was the only thing standing between them.

Neither of them seemed to care.

Lando reached it in only a few long strides, both hands immediately finding the top rail as he leaned his entire upper body over it without the slightest hesitation. Amelie met him halfway, laughing softly through the tears still shining in her eyes as she stepped as close as the barrier allowed.

His hands found her face first.

Warm from the race, still slightly trembling with leftover adrenaline, they gently cradled her cheeks as though he needed to physically reassure himself that she was really standing there.

Then he kissed her.

Not the quick peck cameras were usually accustomed to capturing between public couples.

Not the polite, restrained kind of kiss people exchanged because they knew thousands of lenses were pointed at them.

It was warm.

Lingering.

The kind of kiss that carried seventy laps of tension, three sleepless nights, a last-minute flight across the world, countless FaceTime calls, whispered reassurances in a hotel room, and the indescribable relief of finally sharing a victory they had both needed for completely different reasons.

The roar surrounding them somehow grew even louder.

Fans pressed against the fences, countless phones immediately lifting higher into the air while photographers practically climbed over one another trying to capture the moment from every possible angle. McLaren mechanics erupted into another chorus of cheers, several of them whistling loudly while others laughed at the fact that their World Champion had completely forgotten about every television camera waiting for him the second he'd spotted Amelie.

Neither of them noticed.

Neither of them cared.

For those few precious seconds, the noise faded into something distant and unimportant.

When they finally separated, neither of them moved very far away.

Their foreheads rested together naturally, both breathing slightly unevenly for entirely different reasons.

Lando was still trying to recover from one of the most physically demanding races of the season.

Amelie was simply overwhelmed by the happiness radiating from him.

She smiled so brightly it almost hurt.

Slowly, she lifted both hands to his face, gently cupping his flushed cheeks between her palms. A few damp curls had escaped where his race cap sat crookedly on his head, sticking slightly to his forehead from the sweat that still hadn't had time to dry. His skin was warm beneath her fingertips, and she couldn't stop smiling as she looked into the familiar green eyes that had spent the last few minutes searching desperately through the crowd for her.

—I am so proud of you,— she whispered, her voice quiet enough that despite the surrounding chaos, it somehow reached him perfectly. —So unbelievably proud of you, Lan.—

The words settled somewhere deep inside him.

Not because nobody else had congratulated him that afternoon. His engineers had screamed over the radio, Andrea had hugged him so tightly he could barely breathe, Zak had practically tackled him the second he climbed out of the car, and every single mechanic wearing papaya had celebrated with him as though they had all crossed the finish line together.

But hearing those words from her... they always meant something different.

Lando's smile softened into something impossibly tender, the adrenaline still coursing through his body mixing with an overwhelming wave of affection that made everything else around them momentarily disappear. He leaned forward again without thinking, closing the tiny distance between them until his lips found hers for a second time.

This kiss was slower.

Less desperate than the first.

It wasn't fueled by the immediate relief of finally finding each other in the middle of the post-race chaos. Instead, it was full of quiet gratitude, lingering just long enough for both of them to forget about the cameras documenting every second of the moment.

Amelie smiled against his lips before they finally pulled apart once more, her thumbs brushing gently over his flushed cheeks.

—I love seeing you this happy,— she admitted softly, unable to stop looking at him. —You've earned every single second of this, you know that?—

Lando let out a quiet, breathless laugh, his forehead briefly resting against hers again.

—I think having you here helped,— he confessed with the crooked smile she knew so well. —I'm not saying you're my lucky charm... but I'm also not not saying it.—

She rolled her eyes affectionately.

—You are unbelievable.—

—And yet you still flew halfway across the world for me,— he teased, squeezing one of her hands before reluctantly forcing himself to lean back from the barrier.

Before Amelie could answer, another familiar voice cut through the surrounding celebration.

—Oi! Congratulations, you idiot!—

Lando turned toward the sound immediately, his grin somehow growing even wider when he spotted Flo standing only a couple of steps behind Amelie.

Without hesitating, he walked the few steps along the barricade until he reached the opening where family members were allowed through before immediately wrapping his older sister in one of his trademark bear hugs.

Flo laughed as she hugged him back just as tightly, one hand ruffling what little remained of his flattened race hair.

—I am so proud of you,— she murmured into his shoulder. —That was incredible.—

—Thanks, Flo,— Lando replied, squeezing her once more before stepping back with the biggest smile she'd seen on his face in weeks.

Nolan congratulated him next with a quick handshake that immediately turned into another hug, earning a grateful laugh from Lando before one of McLaren's communications staff appeared several meters away already waving apologetically in his direction.

—Lando! Interview pen!—

Every driver on the grid knew that tone.

It wasn't really a request.

Lando glanced toward the media area, where an increasingly impatient line of television crews, broadcasters, and journalists had already gathered, all waiting for the race winner to fulfill his post-race obligations before the podium ceremony.

He sighed dramatically.

—They're already chasing me,— he muttered, earning a laugh from Flo.

—Occupational hazard,— she replied.

Lando looked back toward Amelie almost immediately, his entire expression softening again the second their eyes met.

For a moment, it looked as though he was genuinely considering ignoring every television network in existence for another minute.

Instead, he stepped closer once more.

He gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind Amelie's ear before leaning down to steal one last quick kiss.

It was brief.

Barely more than a few seconds.

Just enough for him to smile against her lips before pulling away again.

—I'll see you after media,— he promised quietly, his hand lingering against her cheek for another heartbeat. —Don't disappear on me, alright?—

Amelie smiled, covering his hand with hers for just a second.

—I wasn't planning on it.—

He nodded once.

—Good.—

Then, almost reluctantly, he let go.

Lando offered Flo one last playful salute, pointed briefly toward Nolan as if silently thanking him for keeping an eye on everyone, and finally turned toward the waiting media pen.

The second he started walking away, another wave of cheers followed him through parc fermé.

Camera operators hurried backward in front of him while photographers practically sprinted alongside the barriers trying to capture every expression on the reigning World Champion's face. McLaren staff members reached out to pat him on the shoulder as he passed, congratulating him all over again despite having already done so at least three times since the chequered flag.

Within seconds, he disappeared into the sea of microphones, television logos, and flashing camera lenses waiting just beyond the parc fermé entrance.

Amelie watched him until he was almost completely out of sight.

Only then did she finally let out the long breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Flo quietly stepped beside her, following her gaze toward the growing crowd surrounding Lando.

—He's glowing,— Flo observed with a fond smile.

Amelie laughed softly.

—I know.—

She couldn't stop smiling.

Not even if she'd tried.

The last few days replayed through her mind almost involuntarily.

The endless nights staring at the ceiling because sleep refused to come.

The panic that had followed her everywhere after leaving the film set.

The constant checking of mirrors.

The overwhelming fear that had settled somewhere deep inside her chest.

The FaceTime calls where she'd insisted she was fine while Lando gently waited for her to admit she wasn't.

The flight to Hungary.

Breaking down in his arms on the airport tarmac.

Sleeping peacefully beside him for the first time in days.

Standing in the McLaren garage watching him claim victory and now...

Now she was standing only a few metres away while the man she loved walked toward another interview as the winner of the Hungarian Grand Prix and the reigning Formula One World Champion.

Life still wasn't perfect.

She knew the fear from Vancouver hadn't magically disappeared overnight.

She knew there would probably still be difficult nights waiting for her once she returned to filming.

Healing wasn't something that happened in a single afternoon.

But standing here, surrounded by the people who loved her, watching Lando laugh with journalists after one of the greatest drives of his career... she realized something.

For the first time since everything had happened, she didn't feel defined by what she had survived.

She felt defined by where she was.

Next to him.

Exactly where she had wanted to be all along.

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

liked by f1updates, lan4ever, and others

lanmeliehub: One look was all it took. 🧡🏆

View all 841 comments

papayagirl: THE WAY THEY FOUND EACH OTHER IN A CROWD OF HUNDREDS 😭😭😭 → lan4ever: it's actually insane every single time → gridgirlie: they're magnets

orange4ever: Lando looked over IMMEDIATELY 😭🧡 → papayahq: didn't even hesitate → lanmeliehub: he always knows where she is

amesnation: she looked SO proud of him 🥹 → amesdefender: that's the first thing i noticed

f1updates: the cameras weren't even focused on them and somehow they still became the moment 😭 → papayaprincess: impossible to ignore → gridgirlie: main character behavior

papayagirl: i know that smile by heart at this point 😭 → orange4ever: the "that's my person" smile

lanmeliehub: imagine standing on a podium after a race and the first face you look for is hers 🥹 → papayahq: DON'T DO THIS TO ME → orangeobsession: i'm emotional already

gridgirlie: they literally communicate through eye contact 😭 → papayaprincess: no words needed → orangegrid: soulmates behavior

f1fangirl99: i swear they forget there are cameras 😭 → orange4ever: that's why these moments feel so genuine

papayahq: the little smile he gave her??? 😭❤️ → amesnation: i melted instantly → gridgirlie: clip saved forever

orangeobsession: she looked happier than half the people actually on the podium 😭 → papayagirl: proud girlfriend mode activated

f1gossipdaily: they have one talent and it's finding each other in any crowd imaginable 😂 → orangegrid: hidden superpower → papayaprincess: scientifically impossible

amesdefender: the eye contact lasted like two seconds and i'm still thinking about it 😭 → papayahq: longest two seconds of my life → orange4ever: same

orangeobsession: she genuinely looks at him with so much admiration 🥹 → amesnation: that's what gets me every time → papayahq: so much love in one look

lanmeliehub: no dramatic PDA, no huge gestures... just one look across the podium 🥹❤️ → orange4ever: and somehow that's even more romantic

f1updates: whoever was operating the cameras deserves a raise 😭 → gridgirlie: thank you for your service → papayagirl: best angle of the day

orangegrid: i fear i'm never beating the "they're my favorite couple" allegations 😭 → lan4ever: none of us are

amesnation: every race weekend gives us at least one moment that makes the entire fandom cry 😭 → gridgirlie: this was this weekend's moment → papayahq: adding it to the collection 🧡

lan4ever: it's always the tiny moments that end me 😭🧡 → papayahq: never the big gestures → orangeobsession: just one look and i'm done

f1edits: that clip is already on loop for me 😭 → lanmeliehub: i've watched it 87 times

orangegrid: Lando's smile literally changed after he looked at her 🥹 → amesnation: that's exactly what i noticed → gridgirlie: instant happiness

papayagirl: she has the "that's my boyfriend" smile DOWN 😭 → orange4ever: proud doesn't even begin to describe it

f1updates: no because he actually searched for her with his eyes 😭 → papayahq: and found her immediately → orangeobsession: every. single. time.

lanmeliehub: the crowd disappeared for like two seconds 😭 → gridgirlie: it was just them

amesdefender: she always claps the loudest for him 🥹 → orange4ever: biggest supporter → papayahq: always

papayagirl: i need whatever eye contact training they have 😭 → gridgirlie: because HOW

orangeobsession: they look at each other like they're sharing a private joke 😭 → lan4ever: that's exactly the vibe → papayahq: best friends first ❤️

f1fangirl99: every podium lately has secretly become a LanMelie fancam 😭 → papayaprincess: i'm not complaining

papayagirl: imagine winning a trophy and still thinking "where's Amelie?" first 😭 → orange4ever: priorities → gridgirlie: correct priorities

papayaprincess: every week i think "they can't get any cuter" and then they do this 😭 → gridgirlie: they keep raising the bar → orangeobsession: it's exhausting

amesdefender: the way she looked at him was so full of relief too 🥹

amesnation: she's genuinely his lucky charm at this point 🥹 → papayahq: i said what i said

gridgirlie: i'm convinced they forget everyone else exists for like five seconds 😭 → lan4ever: just enough to make us emotional → papayaprincess: mission accomplished

orangegrid: all this from ONE LOOK 😭

f1updates: even the photographers knew to catch that moment 😭 → orange4ever: they know what the people want

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

The adrenaline from the podium celebration was still surging through Lando’s veins like electricity, every nerve ending buzzing as he practically jogged down the narrow, carpeted hallway of the McLaren hospitality unit. The afternoon had been an absolute whirlwind of chaotic euphoria: spraying champagne on the top step, enduring an endless gauntlet of media interviews in the pen, getting hoisted onto the shoulders of his mechanics for team photos, and finally sitting through an unusually jubulant post-race engineering debrief where every single person in the room couldn't stop smiling.

He had officially ended the win drought. He had taken his first victory as the reigning World Champion, and his twelfth career win was officially locked into the record books.

As he reached his driver's room, Lando grabbed the handle with a wicked, triumphant smirk already spreading across his face. In his mind, he had the rest of the evening mapped out with absolute, vivid clarity. He was euphoric, high on victory, and thoroughly convinced that the best way to top off the most incredible day of his season was to lock the door and completely lose himself in his girlfriend.

He pushed the door open with a little extra force, stepping inside with eager, energetic strides.

—Ames, you will not believe what Andrea just said in the debrief— Lando began excitedly, his hands already flying to his chest to vigorously yank down the main zipper of his fireproof race suit.

He kicked the heavy door shut behind him, the latch clicking securely into place. But as the familiar quiet of the private room swallowed the loud noise of the hallway, the words died instantly in the back of his throat.

Lando froze mid-step, his hands still hooked into the collar of his half-unzipped Nomex.

The room was dimly lit, the heavy blackout blinds drawn down to filter out the harsh Hungarian afternoon sun. And there, stretched out sideways across the small folding daybed tucked against the wall, was Amelie.

She was fast asleep.

She was still wearing the bright orange dress she’d worn to the paddock, her legs curled up comfortably toward her chest while one hand rested softly beneath her cheek. Her natural hair had spilled loosely over the white pillow, a few soft blonde strands framing her face, and her chest rose and fell in a slow, completely unbroken rhythm. The subtle layer of makeup she had carefully applied earlier that morning couldn't entirely hide the sheer, bone-deep exhaustion her body had been fighting off for the last three days. Crossing the Atlantic, surviving on zero sleep, crying in his arms on the tarmac, and standing through the relentless noise of a Grand Prix had finally, completely caught up to her the moment she was left alone in the quiet room.

Lando stood completely motionless in the center of the room for several long seconds, his chest still heaving slightly from the fast pace he’d kept all afternoon.

The frantic, hyperactive energy that had been driving him for the last three hours suddenly dissolved, melting away into something infinitely softer, quieter, and deeply tender. He looked down at her peaceful, undisturbed face, remembering how terrified she had been in Vancouver, how many nights she had spent staring at the ceiling in fear, and how desperately her body had needed a safe space to simply shut down.

A soft, affectionate smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Slowly, carefully, Lando let go of his suit zipper. He moved with extreme, deliberate caution, making sure every single action was as quiet as humanly possible so he wouldn't disturb her. He unstrapped his heavy race boots one by one, sliding them off without letting them drop onto the floor. He carefully stepped out of the legs of his Nomex suit, folding the heavy material gently and setting it over the back of an armchair.

Within a minute, he was stripped down to just his black athletic boxers.

He didn't make a sound as he reached into his open travel bag, quietly pulling out a clean grey t-shirt, a pair of soft denim jeans, and a fresh pair of socks. Holding the pile of clothes securely against his chest, he tiptoed across the small room toward the bathroom.

He paused right beside the folding bed for a brief second, leaning down with microscopic care. He gently reached for the thin throw blanket resting at the foot of the bed, pulling it up over her shoulders and tucking her in softly. Leaning down just a fraction lower, he pressed the lightest, most feather-soft kiss against her temple, inhaling the sweet, familiar scent of her hair.

She shifted slightly in her sleep, letting out a tiny, contented sigh, but didn't open her eyes.

Lando’s smile widened, his heart feeling completely full as he quietly turned the bathroom door handle, stepping inside and pulling the door almost all the way shut behind him so he could take a quick, quiet shower, entirely content to let his girlfriend get the rest she so deeply deserved.

Lando set his clean clothes down on the vanity top, making sure they were placed safely away from the sink where no stray water could splash against the fabric.

He reached into the glass shower stall and turned the chrome handle, letting the water run for a few seconds until steam began to billow out and fill the small bathroom with a warm, comforting mist. Stripping off his black athletic boxers, he tossed them into the laundry hamper in the corner before stepping into the stall and letting the heavy glass door slide shut behind him.

The moment the warm water hit his shoulders, Lando let his head fall forward, resting both palms flat against the slick tiled wall in front of him.

He let out a long, heavy breath he felt like he’d been holding all day, feeling the lingering tension in his neck and back begin to dissolve under the steady stream. The heat washed away the dried sweat, the residual champagne from the podium, and the sheer mental exhaustion of managing seventy high-pressure laps around the Hungaroring. It was the first quiet, completely solitary moment he’d had since crossing the finish line hours ago, and he simply stood there with his eyes closed, enjoying the soothing rhythm of the water cascading over his skin.

Everything was completely quiet and normal until the subtle click of the shower door opening echoed softly through the steam.

Before he could even process the sound, a pair of soft, delicate hands reached around from behind, wrapping gently around his abdomen.

The contrast of her cool skin against his warm, wet body made a sudden spark of electricity shoot straight down his spine. Her long, slender fingers traced slowly across his stomach, the delicate touch immediately sending a surge of hot blood straight down to his groin. Lando’s breath hitched in his throat, his body reacting instantly as he felt his dick harden against the tile wall in a matter of seconds.

He didn't turn around right away. Instead, he gripped the wet tile a little tighter, leaning back just enough to press his spine against her front while a low, breathless laugh escaped his throat. The heat in his chest, which he had tried so hard to settle while watching her sleep earlier, instantly returned with double the intensity, completely shattering every selfless intention he’d had just five minutes ago.

—Aren't you supposed to be fast asleep on that bed, Ames?— Lando murmured, his voice laced with a rich, teasing tone that vibrated against her skin as the warm water continued to cascade over both of them.

Amelie didn't answer right away. Her hands continued their slow, agonizingly sweet exploration over the firm planes of his stomach and ribcage, her touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake despite the steady stream of water running down his chest. She stepped fully into the stall, pressing her bare front flushed against his wet back, letting the heat of his body warm her through the mist.

She leaned up on her tiptoes, pressing a soft, wet kiss directly between his shoulder blades, her lips lingering against his skin before tracing a trail of light kisses up toward the base of his neck.

—I woke up and the bed felt cold,— she whispered softly against his ear, her voice slightly raspy from sleep, completely unfiltered and entirely devoid of the hesitation she’d carried for days. —I felt lonely without you.—

That was all it took.

Lando let out a low, rough exhale, abandoning all restraint as he spun around in the narrow stall to finally look at her.

Standing right in front of him, drenched beneath the warm cascade of the showerhead with water clinging to her long eyelashes and plastered blonde waves of hair sticking to her collarbones, was his girlfriend, completely bare and looking at him with eyes full of quiet, unadulterated desire. The sight of her—vulnerable, breathtaking, and completely his—made his chest tighten so hard he could barely breathe.

—Fuck,— Lando whispered, the single word escaping his lips like a desperate confession.

He didn't waste another second. He reached out and cupped her face in both of his wet hands, his thumbs tracing over her cheekbones before he leaned down and violently captured her lips in a deep, heated kiss.

The kiss was frantic, hungry, and full of the chaotic passion he had been suppressing since he walked through the door. Amelie let out a quiet gasp against his mouth, her hands immediately flying up to tangle into his dripping hair, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them. Lando’s arms wrapped tightly around her waist, lifting her up slightly as he pressed her back against the warm, tiled wall, completely consuming her lips while the water poured down around them, sealing them into a world where nothing else existed except each other.

Lando’s hands slid down from her waist to firmly grip the underside of her thighs, his fingers digging into her slick, soft skin as he effortlessly lifted her completely off the tiled floor.

Amelie gasped against his mouth, her arms tightening like a vise around his neck while she instinctively wrapped her legs firmly around his waist. Lando took a half-step back, shifting her weight effortlessly before pressing her spine flat against the smooth wall of the shower stall.

The sharp contrast of the cool tiles against her heated, wet back made a shudder run straight through her body. A soft, breathless moan spilled from her lips at the sudden chill, but Lando refused to give her a single second to draw away. He deepened the kiss instantly, his tongue sliding against hers in a heavy, possessive rhythm that completely swallowed her whimpers and replaced the cold tile with pure, unrelenting heat.

—God, you’re so beautiful, Ames,— Lando growled low against her lips, his voice thick, raspy, and thoroughly ruined by the proximity of her body. —I missed you so fucking much today. Do you have any idea how hard it was to focus out there knowing you were waiting for me?—

Amelie tilted her head back, letting out a shattered sigh as his mouth trailed down her jawline, leaving a trail of biting, fiery kisses along the sensitive skin of her throat.

—Lando...— she whimpered, her fingers tightening violently in his wet hair.

—Look at you,— he dirty-talked against her collarbone, his voice vibrating right through her chest as the warm water poured over their tangled bodies. —Waking up just to come in here and drive me completely out of my mind. You knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you, princess?—

He shifted his grip slightly, keeping one strong arm locked securely beneath her thighs to hold her pinned against the wall while his free hand slid down her ribcage, past the curve of her hip, and straight between her legs.

Amelie let out an arching, high-pitched gasp the exact moment his long fingers brushed over her core.

Lando’s breath hitched sharply, a wicked, triumphant grin pressing against her neck as he felt the slick, searing heat waiting for him. He slipped two fingers through her swollen folds, testing her moisture and finding her completely, impossibly dripping for him.

—Fuck, Ames... look at how wet you are for me,— Lando whispered darkly right into her ear, his thumb applying a agonizingly slow, rhythmic pressure against her sensitive bundle of nerves while his fingers stroked through her wet heat. —So warm, so ready... You didn't even wait for me to touch you, did you? You were already soaking just thinking about me.—

—It’s... it’s all you,— Amelie choked out, her head falling back against the tile as an intense rush of pleasure coiled tight in her lower stomach. —Lando, please...—

—Please what, sweetheart?— he teased, his fingers sliding deliberately deep inside her, eliciting a loud, broken moan that echoed off the glass doors of the shower stall. He flexed his wrist, hitting that perfect spot inside her with practiced, ruthless precision while he watched her face flush with unadulterated pleasure. —Tell me what you want. Tell me exactly what you need right now.—

—I need you inside me, Lando,— Amelie pleaded, her voice breaking into a ragged, breathless whisper as her nails dug into the damp muscle of his shoulders. —Right now. Please.—

Lando’s jaw tightened, every ounce of restraint he possessed instantly disintegrating at her words.

—That’s my good girl,— he rasped against her lips, his voice dropping into a dark, thick growl that sent a shiver straight down her spine.

Without pulling his fingers from her wet heat, he repositioned himself between her thighs, his rigid length pressing directly against her entrance. He lined himself up slowly, teasing her for one agonizing second with the broad tip of his shaft, watching the desperate, gorgeous way her hips instinctively twitched forward seeking more.

—Look at me, Ames,— Lando commanded softly, his deep voice carrying an irresistible weight.

Amelie fluttered her heavy eyelids open, her hazel eyes dark with passion as she looked down at him through the steady veil of falling water. The second her gaze locked onto his, Lando thrust upward in one smooth, unrelenting stroke, burying himself completely inside her.

A loud, shattered moan echoed loudly off the wet glass doors, instantly drowned out by the heavy roar of the showerhead above them. Amelie’s back arched off the cool tile, her inner muscles clenching tightly around him in a slick, overwhelming grip that made Lando let out a harsh, guttural groan.

He froze inside her for a brief, breathless second, his forehead resting against hers while his hands gripped her hips so hard his knuckles turned white.

—Fuck, you feel so good,— Lando swore, his breath hot against her wet skin as he began a slow, agonizingly deep rhythm. —So fucking tight... God, Ames, nothing feels as good as being inside you.—

He pulled back almost all the way before driving deep into her again, setting a steady, relentless pace that had Amelie gasping for air. Her legs squeezed tighter around his waist, her toes curling as the friction and heat built up exponentially in the narrow space. Every time his hips hit hers, the sharp, wet sound of their bodies connecting mixed with the constant thrum of the water, creating an overwhelming sensory high that left her mind completely blank.

—Lando— she sobbed out, her head rolling back against the wall as he angled his thrusts, hitting that sweet, electric spot inside her over and over with devastating accuracy. —Lando, si—

—Tell me, Ames,— Lando demanded, his voice thick and possessive against her cheek as he maintained his relentless, intoxicating pace. —Tell me who you belong to.—

—You,— Amelie gasped out, her fists tightening in his damp hair as another wave of intense, overwhelming pleasure crashed through her entire body. —Only you, Lando... always you.—

A dark, deeply satisfied laugh rumbled through Lando’s chest. He adjusted his hold beneath her thighs, lifting her slightly higher against the tiled wall to sink even deeper inside her, taking every last inch with a fierce, unwavering devotion that left her completely breathless. The steam filling the glass enclosure seemed to grow hotter with every passing second, locking them into their own private world far away from the paddock, the press, and the rest of the world outside.

—That’s right, sweetheart,— Lando murmured, his lips tracing a fiery path down her jaw before capturing her mouth once again in a rough, desperate kiss that swallowed her shattered moans. —You're mine. Every single bit of you.—

His thrusts became shorter, faster, and agonizingly precise, driving both of them straight toward the edge. Amelie’s breath came in ragged, frantic hitches, her toes curling as the coils of tension tight in her stomach snapped completely. A long, broken cry echoed off the glass as her body trembled around him, her inner muscles contracting tightly in an intense, lingering release that sent shockwaves straight through her spine.

Feeling her walls clench desperately around his length, Lando lost the absolute last thread of his control. He buried himself as deep inside her as he could possibly go, letting out a low, guttural groan as his own climax hit him hard, flooding through his veins like liquid heat while he held her tightly against his chest.

For several long, quiet minutes, the only sound inside the steaming shower stall was the steady, rhythmic patter of the warm water and their shared, heavy breaths slowing down together.

Lando kept his head buried in the crook of her neck, his pulse still racing rapidly as he gently rested her feet back onto the wet floor, though he didn't pull away from her for a single second. His arms remained wrapped securely around her waist, keeping her anchored flush against his body as if he never intended to let her go.

Amelie leaned her forehead against his wet shoulder, letting out a soft, contented sigh as the lingering warmth of the shower washed over their spent bodies.

—Happy victory, baby,— Amelie whispered softly, her hand stroking gently through the damp curls at the back of his neck.

Lando pulled back just enough to look down at her face, a warm, completely smitten smile softening his exhausted features as he brushed a wet strand of hair behind her ear.

—Best victory of my life,— Lando murmured, leaning down to press a tender, lingering kiss to her lips.

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