#f1 fanfic

[papayarules481]

My biggest flex will always be that my fic was the very first one under the tag "Alexander Albon has Appendicitis".

[kathlare]

expectations

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: While Lando struggles through a hungover Ibiza trip—secretly frustrated by ring options and anxious about asking Amelie's father for his blessing—Amelie navigates her own subtle jealousy back in New York during her Spider-Man premiere prep.

Wordcount: 12.5 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

August 10th, 2026 - New York City, NY

liked by f1fan22, stanaccount88, and others

f1gossipdaily: Lando was spotted living his best summer-break life in Ibiza last night, exchanging shirts with a DJ inside a club.

View all 2,424 comments

papayagirl: THE SHIRT???? 😭😭😭 → orange4ever: somebody please take his credit card away → gridgirlie: summer break has officially broken him 💀

lanmeliehub: LANDO NORRIS WHAT ARE YOU WEARING 😭 → papayaprincess: AMELIE PLEASE COME GET YOUR MAN

orangeobsession: "p*ussy is vegan" is crazy work 💀 → papayagirl: and he exchanged shirts for it willingly 😭 → gridgirlie: HE PUT IT ON HIMSELF

f1updates: Lando after three drinks apparently loses all sense of fashion 😭 → lan4ever: "fashion" is a generous word → orangegrid: bro thought he ate

amesdefender: meanwhile Amelie is working in New York and Lando is in Ibiza collecting questionable shirts 😭 → papayayah: they both have separate lives, guys

stanaccount88: i'm sorry but getting drunk in clubs every night surrounded by women while your girlfriend is working is not a good look → papayagirl: we literally don't know what happens privately → lanmeliehub: exactly, you can't judge a relationship from paparazzi photos

f1fan22: he looks like a 22-year-old on his first lads holiday 😭 → gridgirlie: HE IS A WORLD CHAMPION 😭

papayaprincess: LANDO PLEASE ACT YOUR AGE 😭 → lan4ever: he's allowed to have fun → papayagirl: the shirt is still criminal though 💀

amesnation: somebody tag Amelie so she can see what her boyfriend is wearing 😭 → orange4ever: @ameliedayman GIRL → lanmeliehub: good luck explaining this one 😭

f1gossipdaily: the shirt exchange is somehow more embarrassing than the actual clubbing 😭 → orangegrid: he could've worn literally ANYTHING → papayagirl: chose that sentence specifically 💀

orangeobsession: missing one thing: common sense 😭

lan4ever: both living their summer break differently → amesdefender: and that's okay!!

stanaccount77: i don't care what anyone says, this shirt is immature 😭 → papayahq: THAT part is fair → orange4ever: the shirt choice is definitely questionable

lanmeliehub: imagine Amelie opening Instagram and seeing THIS 😭 → papayaprincess: i'd block him for 24 hours 💀 → gridgirlie: she'd probably just laugh

f1fangirl99: he really went from P1 trophies to "p*ussy is vegan" shirts 😭😭😭 → papayagirl: character development went backwards

orangeobsession: y'all are acting like Amelie is locked in a basement while he parties 😭 she's literally working because she has a project → amesnation: THANK YOU → lan4ever: adults can have separate schedules

papayagirl: i'm more concerned about the amount of alcohol in this man's bloodstream than the shirt 😭 → gridgirlie: bro needs water → orange4ever: AND SLEEP

amesdefender: can we stop tagging Amelie in every single thing Lando does 😭 → papayaprincess: honestly she probably already saw it

f1updates: the women around him are not automatically evidence of anything btw 😭 → orangeobsession: THANK YOU → papayayah: people need to learn the difference between partying and cheating

stanaccount88: i just think it's disrespectful to be partying like this while she's working → lan4ever: that's your opinion, but we don't know their boundaries

papayagirl: Lando tomorrow morning: "who put this shirt on me?" → orange4ever: YOU DID 😭 → gridgirlie: nobody forced you

lanmeliehub: this man needs to stay off Instagram stories after midnight 😭 → papayaprincess: agreed

f1fan22: i'm sorry but i'm laughing. he's so stupid 😭 → papayagirl: same 💀 → lan4ever: harmless stupid, hopefully

amesnation: Amelie is probably somewhere in NYC laughing at these comments while eating dinner 😭 → orangeobsession: she knows her man 😂

gridgirlie: the funniest thing is that he looks SO proud of the shirt 😭 → papayagirl: that's the worst part → orange4ever: he thought he found fashion

f1gossipdaily: summer break Lando has officially entered his "don't let me near a microphone or camera" era 💀 → lanmeliehub: or a clothing rack apparently

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

Amelie was seated in the middle of the glam room, her back resting comfortably against the high back of the chair while two stylists worked around her simultaneously. One was carefully sectioning her hair before beginning the first stages of the hairstyle she would wear to the Spider-Man premiere that evening, while another stood behind her organizing clips, brushes, sprays, and an alarming number of products that Amelie had long since stopped pretending she understood.

The room was filled with the familiar chaos that always surrounded a premiere.

There were makeup bags scattered across every available surface, garment bags hanging from portable racks, shoes sitting beneath tables, half-finished coffees beside bottles of water, and people constantly walking in and out while checking schedules on their phones. Someone was talking about the carpet, someone else was discussing jewelry, and somewhere behind Amelie, her stylist was arguing with another member of the glam team about whether they had enough time to redo a section of her hair if something went wrong.

Amelie, meanwhile, was perfectly content pretending none of it concerned her.

She held her iced matcha with both hands, occasionally taking a sip through the straw while scrolling aimlessly through her phone.

Or, at least, that was what she wanted everyone to believe.

Her thumb had been hovering over the same Instagram tag page for approximately three minutes.

She told herself she was only checking because Lando had been sending her pictures all morning and because she genuinely wanted to know what he had been getting up to in Ibiza. That explanation sounded perfectly reasonable in her head, especially considering she had practically pushed him onto the plane herself and repeatedly reminded him that he deserved to have fun with his friends without her following him around.

Unfortunately, the problem was that she had already checked the same tagged posts approximately nine times that morning.

And every single time, she somehow found something new to be annoyed about.

Amelie took another slow sip of her matcha, keeping her eyes fixed on the screen while the stylist behind her carefully worked through a section of her hair.

The first video showed Lando walking through a crowded Ibiza club with several of his friends, laughing while someone filmed him from behind. The lighting was dark and purple, the music was loud enough that the original audio was almost impossible to understand, and Lando looked completely relaxed in a way Amelie hadn't seen from him in weeks.

He was wearing a loose white shirt, his hair slightly messy, sunglasses pushed onto his head despite the fact that they were inside, and there were several women standing nearby.

Amelie watched the video until it ended, then immediately replayed it.

She wasn't sure why.

There was nothing particularly interesting about it. Lando was simply standing in a nightclub with his friends, laughing at something someone had said while the camera moved through the crowd. He looked happy, which was exactly what she had wanted. She had spent the entire previous week insisting that he needed to go to Ibiza, that he deserved to drink too much and stay out too late and enjoy being twenty-something without a race weekend hanging over his head.

This was precisely what she had asked for.

So why did she feel strangely irritated watching him do it?

Amelie took another sip of her matcha, her eyes narrowing slightly when another video automatically appeared.

—Oh, for fuck's sake,— she muttered under her breath.

The clip had clearly been filmed sometime during the previous night, judging by the darkness of the club and the slightly chaotic quality of the footage. Lando was standing beside a DJ booth, laughing with a man Amelie recognized vaguely as one of his friends, when the DJ suddenly pulled at the hem of Lando's shirt.

The DJ tugged at the hem of Lando's shirt again, apparently trying to convince him to exchange it, and Lando laughed before eventually giving in. The next few seconds showed the two men pulling their shirts over their heads amid the cheering crowd, exchanging them like it was the most hilarious thing that had happened all night. Amelie stared at the screen with an increasingly unimpressed expression as Lando slipped into the DJ's black tank top, the front of it immediately becoming visible when he turned toward the camera.

Bold white letters stretched across his chest: EAT PUSSY, IT'S VEGAN.

Amelie stared at the screen.

For several seconds, she didn't react at all.

She simply sat there with her matcha halfway to her mouth, eyes fixed on the video while Lando laughed at something the DJ said, completely unaware that his girlfriend was sitting several thousand miles away watching him parade around an Ibiza nightclub in a tank top that looked like it had been specifically designed to test her patience.

She slowly lowered the cup.

—That's disgusting,— she muttered.

—The shirt?— the stylist working on her hair glanced at her through the mirror.

Amelie blinked, realizing she'd spoken aloud.

—Yes.—

The stylist looked at the phone in her hand, then back at Amelie.

—That shirt is absolutely disgusting,— Amelie repeated, this time with considerably more conviction as she locked her phone and placed it face down on her lap.

The stylist laughed softly, clearly unconvinced that the shirt was actually the reason Amelie had been staring at her phone with the expression of someone personally offended by the existence of Ibiza. She continued carefully curling a section of Amelie's hair while another member of the glam team reached around her to adjust something on the vanity, and Amelie tried very hard to look interested in the various makeup products scattered across the table instead of immediately reaching for her phone again.

—You know,— her makeup artist said casually from across the room, —you've been looking at that phone a lot today.—

—Have I?— Amelie asked innocently, although the way her fingers immediately tightened around the phone gave away just how guilty she actually was.

Her makeup artist glanced at her through the mirror, one eyebrow raised while she continued blending product carefully along Amelie's cheekbone. She didn't answer immediately, apparently deciding that watching Amelie attempt to defend herself was considerably more entertaining than directly confronting her about it.

—You have,— the makeup artist finally said, the corner of her mouth lifting. —Quite a lot, actually. I think I've seen the same video reflected in your eyes at least four times while I've been doing your makeup.—

Amelie gave her a deeply unimpressed look through the mirror, although the faint pink beginning to creep across her cheeks made it rather difficult to maintain the illusion that she wasn't embarrassed.

—I have a boyfriend who's in another country. I'm allowed to look at my phone,— she replied, taking another sip of her matcha as though that completely settled the matter.

—Of course,— the makeup artist said, nodding with exaggerated seriousness. —Nobody said you weren't allowed. We're simply observing that you've apparently developed a very strong interest in Ibiza nightlife over the past four days.—

A couple of people around the room laughed quietly, and Amelie rolled her eyes before looking back down at her phone. She opened Instagram again almost instinctively, immediately finding herself on the same tagged page she had promised herself she wasn't going to check anymore.

Another video loaded.

This one showed Lando sitting at a table outside a beach club with several of his friends, a drink in one hand and sunglasses covering his eyes despite the sun already beginning to set. Two women were standing nearby, one leaning against the table while talking to someone else, and another appeared briefly behind him when the camera moved.

Amelie watched it once... then twice... then she zoomed in slightly, which was ridiculous enough that she immediately locked her phone again.

—You're jealous,— Minnie said.

Amelie looked up so quickly that the stylist behind her had to move her hand away from her hair.

Minnie was standing near the garment rack with her arms crossed, watching Amelie through the mirror with an expression of unbearable amusement. She had apparently been observing the entire situation for longer than Amelie had realized, because the grin spreading across her face suggested she had just caught her best friend doing something particularly incriminating.

—I am not jealous,— Amelie immediately replied, far too quickly.

Minnie didn't even bother answering immediately. She simply walked across the glam room with the slow confidence of someone who had already won an argument that Amelie hadn't realized they were having, stopping directly beside the chair before looking down at her best friend with an expression so smug that Amelie immediately knew she was about to be insufferable.

—You're jealous,— Minnie repeated, this time with absolute certainty.

Amelie scoffed, turning her attention toward the mirror as though the reflection of her own face was suddenly fascinating.

—I'm not jealous,— Amelie repeated, although the defensive tone in her voice made the denial considerably less convincing than she clearly intended.

—You're absolutely jealous,— Minnie said, leaning down slightly until her face appeared beside Amelie's in the mirror. —And before you start giving me that look, I'm not judging you. I'm actually impressed you've made it five days before finally admitting that sending your boyfriend to Ibiza without you might have consequences.—

Amelie turned her head slightly, giving her best friend an incredulous look while trying not to disturb the stylist working on the back of her hair.

—I did not send him to Ibiza so he could sit in a hotel room alone and read a book,— she whispered, as though that distinction somehow made her current behavior completely reasonable. —I literally told him to go out, drink, have fun, see his friends, and enjoy himself. That's what he's doing.—

Minnie nodded slowly, her expression becoming increasingly amused as she reached toward the phone still resting in Amelie's hand, clearly recognizing that her best friend was already halfway through another round of denial.

—Exactly,— she said, holding up one finger as though she were presenting evidence in court. —You told him to go out, drink, have fun, see his friends, and enjoy himself. You just apparently forgot to specify that he wasn't allowed to look ridiculously attractive while doing it.—

Amelie opened her mouth, ready with a perfectly reasonable response, but nothing came out because Minnie had unfortunately hit the exact part of the argument she had been desperately trying not to acknowledge.

She looked back at the phone in her hand, where Lando's frozen image remained on the screen, his stupid smile visible beneath the nightclub lights and that even stupider black tank top stretched across his shoulders. The problem wasn't really the women, she told herself. It wasn't even the drinking. It was simply that Lando looked good, annoyingly good, and he was thousands of miles away where she couldn't casually walk over, steal his drink, fix his shirt, or remind him that he belonged beside her.

—I don't care if he looks attractive,— Amelie finally said, taking another sip of her matcha with exaggerated indifference. —That's my boyfriend. Obviously I think he's attractive.—

Amelie let out a sharp, dramatic sigh, but before she could formulate a defense, Minnie reached down and effortlessly snatched the iPhone straight out of her lap.

—Hey! Give that back!— Amelie protested, making a desperate grab for it, but Minnie was already stepping backward out of reach, tossing herself onto the large plush bed in the corner of the suite.

Minnie unlocked the phone with a knowing smirk, her eyes widening instantly as she took in the illuminated screen.

—Oh, my God,— Minnie burst out, holding the screen up in absolute disbelief so the entire glam team could see it. —Amelie, you literally have over a hundred unread texts from him! One hundred and four, to be exact!—

A collective gasp and a chorus of soft, teasing laughs erupted across the room. Her makeup artist shook her head with an amused smile while the hairstylist carefully paused her curling iron, both of them thoroughly enjoying the spectacle unfolding in the center of the suite.

—He’s practically begging for your attention from another continent, and you’re sitting here torturing yourself watching tagged fan videos of him in a club!— Minnie continued, rolling over onto her back on the bed and kicking her feet into the air as she scrolled through the endless wall of notifications.

Amelie groaned, covering her face with both hands as the entire glam room seemed to become increasingly entertained by her humiliation. She could already feel the heat creeping up her neck, partly from embarrassment and partly because Minnie had somehow managed to expose the exact thing she had been trying very carefully not to admit for the past four days.

—Those are probably not all from him,— she muttered through her fingers, although even she knew that sounded ridiculous.

Minnie lifted the phone higher, scrolling through the notifications with exaggerated concentration.

—Let's see. “Baby, landed safely.” “Morning, gorgeous.” “Are you awake?” “I miss you.” “Why aren't you answering?” “Call me when you can.” Oh, and my personal favorite, “I know you're awake because I can see you online.”—

Amelie let out a muffled groan, hiding her face in her hands while the entire room erupted into another wave of lighthearted laughter. Her makeup artist tapped her on the shoulder, chuckling softly while gesturing for her to sit up so she wouldn't ruin the freshly applied blush.

—You know, Amelie,— the makeup artist teased, expertly dusting a subtle layer of setting powder across her nose, —if my World Champion boyfriend sent me a hundred texts while partying in Ibiza, I think I'd be bragging, not pouting.—

—I am not pouting!— Amelie defended herself instantly, lowering her hands and glaring at her through the mirror, though the helpless smile tugging at the corners of her mouth completely ruined the act.

—You’re definitely pouting, babe,— Minnie declared from the bed, still scrolling casually through Lando’s frantic stream of messages. She propped herself up on her elbows, looking over at Amelie with an expression that was equal parts affectionate and thoroughly unimpressed. —He’s literally going insane because you haven't texted him back in three hours, while you’re over here zooming in on two-second clips of him wearing a tank top that says 'Eat Pussy, It's Vegan' like he’s running off to get married in the desert.—

Amelie crossed her arms, trying to look dignified in her silk robe while her hair was pinned in three different directions.

—It is an objectively terrible tank top,— Amelie insisted, taking another stubborn sip of her iced matcha. —And I'm not ignoring him. I'm busy getting ready for a premiere. I have a job.—

—A job that apparently involves checking his fan pages every four minutes,— Minnie pointed out without missing a beat, earning an appreciative chuckle from the hair stylist working behind the chair.

Amelie rolled her eyes, but as she looked at her best friend lying comfortably across the hotel bed with her phone, the lingering knot of ridiculous, irrational jealousy in her chest finally began to loosen. She knew, rationally, how stupid it was to feel that way. Lando was the same guy who had spent the entire summer practically attached to her hip, the guy who called her at two in the morning to listen to her talk about wedding candles, and the guy whose notifications were currently blowing up her lock screen because he missed her after a few days apart.

He was just having fun with his friends, living the life of a twenty-something World Champion on a well-deserved break, and deep down, she really was happy for him.

She just also happened to be a little bit possessive.

—Fine,— Amelie conceded with a dramatic sigh, slumping slightly in the chair. —Maybe I'm... a tiny bit annoyed that he looks that good in Ibiza while I'm sitting here surrounded by fifteen different hairsprays.—

Minnie slowly lowered the phone, her expression shifting into the most delighted smile Amelie had seen all morning.

—Annoyed?— she repeated, drawing the word out deliberately. —That's what we're calling it?—

Amelie stared at her through the mirror, immediately recognizing the trap she had walked into. She had known Minnie for far too many years to believe that she was going to let a confession like that pass without making it significantly more embarrassing than necessary. Still, Amelie refused to give her the satisfaction of admitting anything too quickly, so she simply reached for her matcha and took another sip while staring stubbornly at her own reflection.

—Yes. Annoyed,— she insisted. —Because he's my boyfriend and he's in Ibiza wearing that ridiculous shirt while apparently every woman within a ten-mile radius has decided they need to be standing next to him.—

Minnie burst out laughing, dropping backward onto the bed while holding Lando's phone above her head.

—Oh, you're jealous.—

—I said annoyed.— Amelie groaned.

Minnie continued laughing for several seconds, completely unconcerned with the fact that Amelie was now staring at her through the mirror with the expression of someone seriously considering throwing her matcha across the room. The glam team, meanwhile, had become increasingly invested in the conversation, with several of them exchanging amused looks while pretending to remain focused on their respective jobs.

—Okay, fine,— Minnie finally said, sitting upright and holding Lando's phone against her chest. —You're annoyed. But let me ask you something, and you have to answer honestly.—

Amelie narrowed her eyes.

—I don't like where this is going.—

—When you watched that video of him exchanging shirts with the DJ, did you think, “Wow, that's disgusting and embarrassing,” or did you think, “Wow, my boyfriend is incredibly fucking hot and I don't like that other women get to look at him right now”?—

Amelie immediately looked away.

The silence that followed was enough of an answer that even the hairstylist behind her started laughing.

—Oh my God,— Minnie whispered triumphantly. —There it is.—

Amelie pressed her lips together, trying desperately not to smile despite herself.

—I hate you.—

—No, you don't.—

—I might.—

—You definitely don't.—

Amelie sighed and leaned her head back against the chair, staring at the ceiling while the stylist carefully continued working around her. She could feel everyone waiting for her to finally say it, and perhaps that was what made the confession feel so ridiculous. There was no actual reason to be embarrassed about being jealous of her own boyfriend. Especially not when the entire reason she'd sent him to Ibiza was because she loved him enough to want him to enjoy himself.

The problem was that she'd apparently underestimated what it would feel like to watch him do exactly that.

—Okay,— she finally muttered.

Minnie immediately sat up straighter.

—Okay what?—

Amelie closed her eyes.

—I'm jealous.—

The reaction was instantaneous.

Minnie threw both arms into the air like her favorite team had just won a championship, while someone from the glam team let out a delighted little laugh behind Amelie.

—She admitted it!— Minnie exclaimed.

—Keep your voice down!— Amelie hissed, although she was laughing now too.

Minnie climbed off the bed and walked back toward the chair, still holding Lando's phone in one hand.

Minnie stopped beside her and leaned down until their faces were almost level in the mirror, wearing the smugest expression Amelie had ever seen.

—You are jealous,— she repeated, much more softly this time, as though she wanted Amelie to hear the words without an audience laughing over them. —And honestly, I think that's completely normal. You're in love with him, you've spent basically every waking moment together lately, and then you voluntarily sent him to an island full of beautiful people and alcohol while you're stuck here working.—

Amelie looked at herself in the mirror, watching as the stylist carefully adjusted another section of her hair while she considered Minnie's words. She couldn't even argue with them anymore because, now that she'd finally admitted it aloud, the feeling seemed considerably less embarrassing than it had five minutes earlier. It wasn't that she didn't trust Lando, because she trusted him more than almost anyone in her life; she simply hated the idea of other women getting the version of him that she had been missing for the past few days.

—I know he's not doing anything,— Amelie admitted quietly. —That's not even what bothers me.—

Minnie nodded knowingly.

—Then what bothers you?—

Amelie stared at the frozen image on the phone screen, where Lando was still caught mid-laugh beside the DJ, wearing the ridiculous tank top that had apparently become the source of her entire emotional crisis.

—It's just... he's hot,— she finally said, sounding almost offended by the admission. —Like, really fucking hot. And I know that sounds stupid because obviously I've always known that, but he's alone, he's having fun, he's a World Champion now, everyone knows who he is, and of course girls are going to notice him. They're going to look at him, they're going to flirt with him, they're going to want pictures with him, and I'm not there.—

Minnie smiled gently.

—And you don't like that.—

—No,— Amelie admitted, finally looking at her best friend through the mirror. —I really fucking don't like that.—

The hairstylist laughed softly behind her, carefully pinning another piece of hair into place while Amelie tried to maintain some remaining dignity. Minnie, however, seemed much less interested in teasing her now and instead looked almost affectionate, because she understood that this wasn't really about distrust or insecurity. Amelie simply missed him, and seeing thousands of strangers enjoying the version of Lando she wanted beside her made that absence feel considerably more tangible.

—You know what's funny?— Minnie said, sitting on the edge of the bed again. —He's probably sitting somewhere in Ibiza complaining about the exact opposite thing.—

Amelie glanced toward her.

—What do you mean?—

Minnie lifted the phone and waved it slightly.

—He's sent you over a hundred messages because you haven't answered him. That man is probably surrounded by people and still checking his phone every three minutes wondering what you're doing.—

Amelie smiled despite herself.

—He does that.—

—Exactly. And I'm willing to bet he's probably seen pictures of you getting ready for the premiere and is currently regretting every decision that led him to Ibiza without you.—

Amelie laughed quietly, imagining the expression Lando would make if he saw her now, sitting in a glam chair with half her hair clipped away from her face and a robe covering what would eventually become her premiere outfit.

—He'd probably complain that I look better when I'm not trying,— she murmured.

Minnie immediately pointed the phone at her.

—See? You know exactly what he'd say.—

Amelie smiled, then reached out and finally took her phone back from Minnie's hands. She unlocked the screen, and the wall of notifications appeared again almost immediately, Lando's name repeated over and over until it practically filled the entire screen.

She stared at it for a few seconds.

—Maybe I should answer him.—

—Maybe?— Minnie repeated incredulously. —Girl, that man has probably already sent a search party.—

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

liked by orangegrid, papayagirl, and others

amelieupdates: Amelie STUNS at the Spider-Man premiere tonight. 🕷️✨ absolute showstopper. ❤️‍🔥

View all 891 comments

papayagirl: MARVEL PREMIERE AMELIE IS BACK????? 😭😭😭 → amesnation: HER LAST ONE WAS ENDGAME IN 2019 I'M EMOTIONAL → orange4ever: SHE REALLY CAME BACK AFTER SIX YEARS

amesdefender: THE LAST TIME WE SAW HER AT A MARVEL PREMIERE WAS 2019 AND NOW SHE'S HERE FOR SPIDER-MAN 😭 → papayaprincess: THE NOSTALGIA → gridgirlie: my childhood just attacked me

amelieupdates: SHE LOOKS LIKE SHE NEVER LEFT THE RED CARPET 😭❤️‍🔥 → orangeobsession: literally born for premieres

lanmeliehub: meanwhile Lando is in Ibiza wearing a "p*ussy is vegan" shirt and Amelie is at a MARVEL PREMIERE 😭 → papayaprincess: THE CONTRAST IS SENDING ME → orange4ever: they are truly living completely different summers 💀

f1fan22: Amelie working, doing premieres, performing at the World Cup... meanwhile Lando has been drunk in Ibiza for three business days 😭 → lan4ever: it's literally summer break

papayagirl: she really went from Endgame premiere Amelie to Spider-Man premiere Amelie 😭😭😭 → orangegrid: SIX YEARS LATER → amesdefender: she's grown so much since then 🥹

f1updates: Marvel fans who remember her 2019 appearance just woke up screaming 😭 → papayahq: I REMEMBER THAT RED CARPET

orangeobsession: SHE'S BACK IN THE MARVEL UNIVERSE RED CARPET CIRCUIT 🕷️😭 → amesnation: our girl has returned → gridgirlie: this feels so nostalgic

papayagirl: Lando better be watching this premiere from Ibiza like the proudest boyfriend alive 😭 → lanmeliehub: after that shirt he's on thin ice 💀 → orange4ever: he's probably FaceTiming her

amesnation: can we PLEASE stop comparing their schedules 😭 she has a premiere and he has a break → orangeobsession: exactly!!

papayaprincess: Amelie has done a World Cup halftime show AND a Marvel premiere in the same summer???? → gridgirlie: career woman behavior → orangegrid: she's booked beyond belief

lanmeliehub: Lando partying in Ibiza while his girlfriend is serving MARVEL PREMIERE... sir 😭 → papayagirl: HE'S GOING TO HAVE TO COME BACK WITH FLOWERS

amesdefender: she looks SO happy too 🥹 → papayahq: that's my favorite thing → orangeobsession: she's clearly having the time of her life

f1fangirl99: remember when everyone thought she was done with Marvel appearances after Endgame? 😭 → amesnation: NEVER SAY NEVER

papayagirl: 2019 Amelie walked that Endgame carpet and now 2026 Amelie is back 😭 → orangegrid: CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT → gridgirlie: six years of glow-up

lan4ever: i'm actually glad she's working while Lando is having fun. they both deserve their own things ❤️ → amesdefender: healthy relationship agenda

orange4ever: the way she can go from World Cup stage to movie premiere like it's nothing 😭 → amesnation: GLOBAL SUPERSTAR → papayagirl: she really does everything

gridgirlie: somebody check on Lando 😭 → lanmeliehub: he's probably proud AND missing her

papayaprincess: her last Marvel premiere being Endgame is actually making me emotional 😭 → orangeobsession: THAT WAS AN ERA

amesnation: no because she looks even more confident now 🥹 → papayagirl: six years of growth will do that → orange4ever: absolute star

lanmeliehub: she really said "let me remind everyone why I used to own the red carpet" 😭 → papayagirl: AND SHE DID

orangegrid: i'm just happy we're getting premiere Amelie again 🥹❤️ → amesdefender: same → papayahq: missed this era so much

papayagirl: someone tell Lando his girlfriend is currently serving while he's wearing the worst shirt known to humanity 😭 → orangeobsession: HE KNOWS 😭 → lan4ever: he's never beating the allegations of terrible vacation fashion

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

Lando was practically thrown across the enormous cream-colored couch, one leg hanging awkwardly over the armrest while the other remained stretched across the cushions, his entire body carrying the unmistakable energy of a man who had decided that moving was simply no longer an option. A large white pillow covered most of his face, muffling the sound of Amelie's voice coming through the yacht's speakers as one of her songs played at a volume that was objectively unreasonable for the relatively small lounge area.

His head was fucking killing him.

The hangover had started somewhere around noon and had only become progressively worse throughout the afternoon, settling behind his eyes with a dull, relentless pressure that made every sound feel unnecessarily loud and every movement feel like an insult. He had already consumed an embarrassing amount of water, taken painkillers, eaten something he could barely remember tasting, and spent nearly an hour lying completely still while wondering why he had allowed his friends to convince him that drinking until sunrise was a good idea.

None of that had helped.

What had made everything considerably worse, however, was the fact that Amelie had finally replied to his messages after leaving him on delivered for several hours.

He should have been relieved.

Instead, he was sulking.

Because her response had been short, sweet, and painfully normal, something along the lines of telling him she was heading into the premiere and that she loved him, followed by a photograph that had immediately reminded him why he was currently miserable.

She looked fucking incredible.

Of course she did.

She had been getting ready for the Spider-Man premiere all afternoon, and when the first photographs from the carpet began appearing online, Lando had stared at his phone for several seconds in complete silence before locking it again and throwing it onto the other end of the couch. She looked beautiful, confident, glamorous, completely unreachable, and somehow even hotter knowing that he wasn't there beside her.

And that wasn't even the worst part.

He still hadn't found the ring.

A week in Ibiza had sounded like the perfect opportunity when he'd first agreed to come. He had imagined spending time with his friends, relaxing, drinking, going out, and maybe casually wandering through a few jewelry stores until something caught his eye. Instead, he had discovered that choosing an engagement ring was apparently one of the most stressful decisions a person could make.

There were cuts.

So many fucking cuts.

Different stones, different settings, different metals, different sizes, different shades, different shapes, different styles, different everything.

He had spent hours looking at rings online and in private showrooms, only to become more confused with every single option presented to him. Every time someone asked what Amelie liked, he realized he could describe approximately seventeen thousand things about her but somehow couldn't confidently answer the seemingly simple question of what engagement ring she would actually want.

So now he was hungover, sexually frustrated, anxious about his girlfriend being angry with him, and increasingly convinced that he was going to return home without the one thing he had promised himself he would accomplish during this trip.

His solution was obviously mature.

He put a pillow over his head and turned Amelie's music up.

Across the yacht, Max and Keegan were doing some kind of livestream near the bar, their voices carrying through the lounge despite the distance. Lando could hear them talking, laughing, occasionally reacting to comments, and he had absolutely no interest in participating in any of it.

He wanted silence.

Unfortunately, he couldn't have silence because Max had already complained about the music twice.

—Lando! Turn it down!— Max called from the bar. —We're literally streaming!—

Lando didn't respond.

Instead, he reached blindly toward his phone, increased the volume another notch, and dropped it back onto the cushion beside him before returning the pillow over his face.

Amelie's voice filled the lounge.

For the first time in several minutes, Lando felt marginally better.

Then something sniffed the pillow.

He froze.

A tiny, wet nose nudged against the edge of the cushion, followed by another curious sniff directly beside his ear.

Lando slowly lowered the pillow.

Rio was standing directly in front of him.

The little dachshund stared up at him with enormous, expectant eyes, his tail moving lazily behind him as though he'd discovered something much more interesting than whatever was happening around the bar.

Lando blinked at him.

—Hello, mate,— he mumbled, his voice rough from the previous night's drinking.

Rio immediately climbed onto the couch, putting his front paws against Lando's stomach and sniffing his chest with considerably more enthusiasm.

Lando laughed quietly despite himself, reaching down to scratch behind his ears.

—You came to check on me?— he asked, rubbing the little dog's head. —Good boy.—

Rio responded by licking his fingers.

—Yeah, well, you're the only one here who actually understands me.—

—He probably understands that you smell like a nightclub,— Pietra said.

Lando looked up.

Pietra was sitting a few feet away in one of the lounge chairs, one leg crossed neatly over the other and both arms folded across her chest. She had been watching him for who knew how long, her expression carrying the particular combination of amusement and judgment that immediately made Lando suspicious.

—What?— Lando asked, slowly sitting upright despite the immediate protest from his headache, while Rio remained comfortably perched beside him. He rubbed a hand over his face before looking toward Pietra, his expression already defensive even though she hadn't technically accused him of anything yet. —Why are you looking at me like that?—

Pietra didn't answer immediately. She simply kept her arms folded, one eyebrow raised as she looked at him sprawled across the couch, surrounded by cushions, with Amelie's music blasting through the yacht and an obviously hungover expression that made him look considerably less intimidating than he probably wanted.

—Are you done sulking by yourself?—

Lando stared at her.

—I'm not sulking.—

Pietra's eyebrow lifted even higher.

—Right.—

The sarcasm was so obvious that Lando immediately rolled his eyes and reached for his phone, unlocking the screen purely because he needed something to do with his hands. The latest notification was still Amelie's message from earlier, and seeing her name sitting there immediately brought back the same complicated knot that had been occupying his stomach all afternoon.

—I’m not in the mood to be reprimanded right now,— he muttered, scrolling through his notifications without actually reading any of them.

—I'm not going to reprimand you,— Pietra replied calmly.

—Great.— Lando nodded, still looking down at his phone. —Because Amelie's going to do that well enough when I get home.—

Pietra's expression changed slightly.

The mention of Amelie had been casual, almost tossed into the conversation without much thought, but Pietra knew Lando well enough to recognize the shift that immediately happened in his face. His shoulders dropped a little farther, his thumb stopped moving across the screen, and suddenly the phone seemed considerably less interesting than it had been seconds earlier.

There was a brief silence between them.

Pietra uncrossed her legs, leaning slightly forward in the chair as she watched him scratch absentmindedly behind Rio's ears. She had known about the proposal plan for long enough now to recognize when Lando was reaching the point where his excitement had started turning into genuine anxiety, and she suspected the alcohol had only made the entire situation harder for him to manage.

—So...— she began carefully. —Still no luck finding the right ring?—

Lando's face immediately fell.

He locked his phone and tossed it onto the couch beside him with considerably more force than necessary before reaching down and lifting Rio onto his lap. The dachshund seemed completely delighted by the sudden relocation, settling against Lando's stomach as Lando rubbed both hands over his little body.

—No,— he admitted, letting out a frustrated sigh. —No fucking luck.—

Pietra nodded slowly.

—And that's why you've been drinking?—

Lando looked down at Rio.

—Why else do you think I've been drinking? I just want to stop stressing about it for five minutes.—

He leaned back against the couch, his fingers continuing to move through Rio's fur while the dog's head rested comfortably against his thigh. Lando looked exhausted now rather than simply hungover, the frustration of the entire week finally becoming impossible to hide.

—I thought this was going to be easy,— he admitted. —I genuinely thought I'd walk into a jewelry store, tell someone what I needed, look at a few rings, and one of them would just... feel right. You know? Like I'd see it and immediately know, that's hers.—

Pietra nodded.

—Makes sense.—

—Except apparently there are a million different rings in the world.— Lando gestured vaguely toward the ceiling as though the sheer existence of jewelry offended him personally. —There's the cut, the setting, the stone, the metal, the color, the size, whether it's round or oval or whatever the fuck else they have. And then they start showing you pictures of ten rings that look exactly the same, except apparently one tiny detail changes everything.—

Pietra smiled slightly.

—That's because those tiny details matter.—

—I know they matter. That's the fucking problem.—

Lando sighed heavily, dropping his head against the back of the couch.

—How am I supposed to know which one she wants? She hasn't exactly given me a PowerPoint presentation titled "The Engagement Ring I Expect My Boyfriend To Buy Me." And I can't just ask her because then I'll ruin the whole fucking thing.—

Rio shifted on his lap, and Lando immediately adjusted his hands around him.

—I know what she likes in everything else. I know what flowers she likes, what perfume she wears, what kind of jewelry she usually buys, what clothes she'll never wear, what restaurants she'll always choose, what songs make her cry, what she'll order when she's pretending she's not hungry... I know her. I fucking know her. But apparently knowing someone for years doesn't automatically make you an expert in diamonds.—

Pietra laughed softly.

—Usually, that's when the family helps you.—

Lando's eyes moved toward her.

—Right...—

Something about his tone made Pietra's smile disappear.

Lando looked down at Rio again, suddenly very interested in scratching behind the dog's ears.

Pietra waited.

—The problem is...— Lando began slowly. —I haven't asked her dad yet.—

Pietra's head turned so quickly that her hair shifted over her shoulder.

—What?—

Lando winced at the immediate reaction, already knowing from the way Pietra was staring at him that he had somehow managed to make the situation significantly worse simply by saying the truth out loud. He looked down at Rio, who was completely unconcerned with the conversation and seemed perfectly content curled against Lando's stomach, blissfully unaware that his human was currently facing what felt like a personal interrogation.

—I haven't asked him yet,— Lando repeated, rubbing one hand slowly over Rio's back. —I was going to. I just... haven't.—

Pietra stared at him in disbelief.

—Lando.—

—I know.—

—You are planning to propose to Amelie—

—I know.—

—And you haven't spoken to her father?—

Lando sighed, letting his head fall backward against the couch.

—I said I know.—

Pietra remained silent for a few seconds, apparently trying to decide whether she wanted to laugh, yell, or physically shake some sense into him. Eventually, she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms again, her expression becoming almost painfully serious.

—You have to ask him.—

—I know I have to ask him.—

—No, I don't think you understand what I'm saying. You have to actually do it. You can't keep thinking about doing it while looking at rings and drinking yourself into oblivion because you're scared of what he's going to say.—

Lando's jaw tightened slightly.

That was the part he hadn't wanted to admit.

The ring was stressful, yes. Choosing the right stone and setting and trying to figure out what Amelie would love without giving away the surprise had been driving him insane for days, but underneath all of that was a much more personal fear that he hadn't really allowed himself to confront.

Her father.

Lando had known him for years. He had spoken to him at dinners, events, holidays, family gatherings, birthdays, and countless other occasions where they had ended up talking about everything from racing to Amelie to completely meaningless things. He wasn't a stranger, and their relationship wasn't bad.

If anything, Lando genuinely liked him.

That somehow made the conversation feel even more terrifying.

—What if he says no?— Lando asked eventually.

Pietra's eyebrows rose.

—To the ring?—

—To me.—

The words came out much quieter than everything else he'd said, and that immediately changed something in Pietra's expression.

Lando looked toward the floor, his fingers absentmindedly scratching beneath Rio's chin.

—I know it sounds stupid,— he continued, his voice lower now. —We've been together for years. He knows me. He knows how much I love her. He knows we're serious. But asking him feels different. It's like I'm standing there and saying, "I'm asking you to trust me with your daughter for the rest of her life." What if he looks at me and thinks I'm not good enough for her?—

Pietra's face softened slightly.

—Lando, he already knows you're not good enough for her.—

Lando's head snapped toward her.

Pietra held his stare for a second before breaking into a grin.

—I'm kidding.—

—Jesus Christ.—

She laughed, and despite himself, Lando let out a small breath of amusement.

—But seriously,— Pietra continued, leaning forward again. —You need to stop treating this like you're asking permission to date her. You're asking her father because it's important to you, because it's respectful, because you care about her family. But ultimately, you're asking Amelie. She's the person who gets to decide.—

—I know.—

—Then why are you so terrified?—

Lando was quiet.

He looked down at Rio, who had now fallen asleep against his leg, his tiny chest moving steadily beneath the fabric of Lando's shirt. For a few seconds, the only sound in the lounge was Amelie's music playing softly beneath the distant voices from the livestream near the bar.

—Because this is forever,— he finally said.

Pietra didn't interrupt.

Lando swallowed, his gaze remaining fixed on Rio.

—I know we've talked about it. I know she's the person I want. I know all of that. But actually doing it makes everything feel real. There's no pretending anymore. No "maybe someday." No "when we're older." I'm saying I want to spend the rest of my life with her, and I'm asking everyone around her to believe that I mean it.— He paused, rubbing his thumb over Rio's tiny paw. —And I do mean it.—

Pietra smiled faintly.

—I know you do.—

Lando looked at her.

—That's why I'm scared.—

There was something almost painfully sincere about the admission, and Pietra's expression softened completely. She knew Lando well enough to recognize that his anxiety wasn't coming from uncertainty about Amelie. If anything, it was the opposite. He was terrified precisely because he was so certain.

He had spent years loving this woman, losing her, finding her again, building something with her, watching her career become bigger and bigger while somehow remaining the person who made him feel most at home.

Now he wanted to put a ring on her finger.

Forever was suddenly a very real word.

Pietra sighed and stood from the chair, smoothing down her dress.

—Then grow some balls.—

Lando stared at her.

—Excuse me?—

—You heard me.—

She stepped closer, reaching down to scratch Rio's head before the little dog immediately lifted his head and looked up at her. Pietra smiled at him, and Rio instantly climbed down from Lando's lap and followed her when she took a step away.

—If you're actually ready to commit to Amelie for the rest of your life, then you need to start acting like someone who's ready to commit to Amelie for the rest of his life,— she said, walking toward the bar. —You can't hide behind jewelry stores forever, Lando.—

—I am not hiding.—

Pietra glanced over her shoulder.

—You're hiding so hard you're currently hungover on a yacht listening to your girlfriend's music with a pillow over your head.—

Lando opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

Pietra smiled triumphantly.

—Exactly.—

She continued toward the bar, Rio trotting happily behind her with his little legs moving quickly to keep up.

—I'm getting a drink now because you've annoyed me,— she called back.

Lando watched her disappear toward the bar, completely stunned by the conversation that had somehow managed to leave him feeling both reassured and significantly more stressed than before.

He stared at the ceiling and sighed.

—Fucking hell.—

He grabbed the pillow beside him and threw himself backward onto the couch, dragging it over his face again as though hiding from the entire world might somehow make the problem disappear.

Unfortunately, Amelie's voice was still playing through the speakers.

He reached blindly for his phone, scrolling through her songs until he found one that felt appropriately distracting.

When Did You Get Hot? began playing.

Lando stared at the ceiling for a moment before closing his eyes, letting her voice fill the room while his headache continued pulsing behind his forehead.

From the bar, Max's voice immediately carried across the lounge.

—LANDO! Turn that shit down!—

Lando opened one eye.

He could hear Max complaining to Keegan about copyright again, followed by Keegan laughing and telling him that nobody watching their stream was going to care about whatever song was playing in the background.

—I'm serious!— Max called. —Turn it down!—

Lando slowly reached for his phone.

He stared at the volume slider.

Then, with absolutely no hesitation, he dragged it upward.

The music became louder.

Max groaned from across the yacht.

—You fucking asshole!—

Lando smiled beneath the pillow.

For the first time all afternoon, he felt slightly better.

He still needed to find the ring.

He still needed to talk to Amelie's father.

He still needed to somehow survive whatever reaction Amelie was going to have when he finally got home.

But for the next three minutes, none of that mattered.

He closed his eyes and let Amelie's voice drown out everything else, even as Max continued complaining from the bar and the yacht rocked gently beneath them.

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

liked by amesdefender, gridgirlie, and others

lanmeliehub: Max’s stream today had a VERY interesting soundtrack… 👀

View all 429 comments

papayagirl: NOT LANDO PLAYING FOUR AMELIE SONGS IN A ROW 😭😭😭 → lanmeliehub: LANDO WE KNOW YOU'RE SULKING → orange4ever: bro misses his girl BAD

lan4ever: y'all were dragging him for partying and now he's sitting there listening to Amelie's entire discography 😭 → papayaprincess: character development in real time → orangeobsession: Ibiza Lando has LEFT the building

f1fangirl99: okay but can we talk about HOW GOOD HE LOOKED ON STREAM??? 😭 → gridgirlie: THE HAIR???

amesnation: he really went from clubbing in Ibiza to sitting around listening to his girlfriend's songs 😭 → lanmeliehub: that's called missing your person → orange4ever: leave him aloneeee

papayagirl: When Did You Get Hot? playing while Lando is literally on camera is CRAZY 😭

orangegrid: four Amelie songs in ONE STREAM???? he's not even hiding it 😭 → lan4ever: man is down horrendous → papayahq: love sick behavior

f1updates: people: "Lando parties too much." Lando: sits in silence listening to Amelie songs 😭 → orangeobsession: LET THE MAN SULK

amesdefender: honestly i'm defending him 😭 summer break means he can go out and have fun → lan4ever: exactly → orange4ever: and apparently now he's back to missing his girlfriend

papayaprincess: Tears followed by Sugar Talking???? somebody check on this man 😭 → lanmeliehub: THE PLAYLIST IS TELLING US EVERYTHING → gridgirlie: emotional damage

orangeobsession: Lando looks like he hasn't seen Amelie in three business days and is taking it personally 😭 → papayagirl: he's literally sulking

f1fanatic: Lucid by Buttered coming after four Amelie songs... okay DJ Norris we see you 👀 → papayahq: WHAT DOES IT MEAN → gridgirlie: we're analyzing the playlist now 😭

lanmeliehub: the funniest part is that Amelie is busy working and he's apparently just listening to her music in Max's stream 😭 → amesnation: long-distance boyfriend activities → orange4ever: he misses her 🥹

papayagirl: Lando: "i'm having the time of my life in Ibiza" also Lando: plays Amelie's entire heartbreak catalog 😭 → orangegrid: HE'S NOT BEATING THE ALLEGATIONS

amesnation: they are actually so cute i can't 😭 → papayaprincess: even when they're apart they're somehow giving us content → lanmeliehub: soulmate behavior

gridgirlie: the way he looked at the camera during When Did You Get Hot? I'M SORRY 😭 → papayagirl: HE KNOWS → orangeobsession: that man was FEELING the lyrics

orange4ever: i'm choosing to believe Max put the songs on specifically to torture him 😂 → lanmeliehub: Max is the biggest LanMelie shipper unfortunately

f1fangirl99: Lando looked so pretty today i'm actually annoyed 😭 → gridgirlie: same → papayagirl: why does he look better when he's sad???

lan4ever: "Couldn’t Make It Any Harder" playing while Lando is sitting there looking miserable is FOUL 😭 → orangeobsession: MAX TURN IT OFF → papayaprincess: let him suffer

amesdefender: i hope they get to see each other soon 🥹 → amesnation: same!! → orange4ever: he clearly misses her

papayagirl: this is the same man y'all were calling a party animal yesterday btw 😭 → lan4ever: people contain multitudes

lanmeliehub: four Amelie songs isn't a coincidence, i'm sorry 😭 → papayahq: that's a boyfriend with a playlist → orangegrid: certified simp

orangeobsession: he could've played literally anything and chose HER songs 😭 → amesnation: that's actually so sweet

f1updates: Max's stream accidentally turned into a LanMelie listening party 😭 → papayagirl: and nobody complained → lan4ever: best stream soundtrack ever

amesnation: imagine Amelie watching this and realizing Lando has been listening to her songs all afternoon 🥹 → orange4ever: she'd tease him SO hard

papayagirl: Lando Norris: world champion, F1 driver, professional boyfriend, part-time sad music listener 😭 → gridgirlie: MULTITALENTED

lanmeliehub: okay but seriously... they are adorable. that's all. 🥹🧡 → papayahq: agreed → amesdefender: nothing else to add ❤️

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

The studio was almost completely silent when Alex finally reached the door, the digital clock on his phone reading 2:07 a.m. as he stood outside with a tired expression and a set of keys digging into the palm of his hand. He had originally assumed that when Amelie started texting him shortly after midnight, she wanted to talk about the premiere, complain about something that had happened at the afterparty, or possibly drag him into another one of their spontaneous writing sessions that somehow always turned into three hours of laughing and accomplishing absolutely nothing. Instead, she had spent the past two hours sending him increasingly impatient messages demanding to know where he was, whether he was coming, and why he was taking so fucking long.

He had finally given up trying to understand her and agreed to come.

After all, this wasn't particularly unusual for them.

Alex and Amelie had spent years wandering into studios at ridiculous hours, sitting on floors surrounded by empty coffee cups, writing fragments of songs on their phones, arguing about lyrics, playing unfinished melodies for each other, and occasionally creating something genuinely good by complete accident. So when she insisted that she needed him at the studio immediately, Alex had simply assumed there was another song somewhere in her head that she needed help bringing to life.

He reached the studio door and started searching through his keys.

—Why the fuck are there seventeen keys on this thing?— he muttered, holding the small metal ring closer to the light.

Before he could identify the correct one, the door suddenly swung open from the inside.

Alex looked up.

Amelie stood there.

She still had the remains of her premiere glamour completely intact, her makeup untouched and her hair still styled exactly as it had been when she walked the red carpet earlier that evening. The contrast between that immaculate appearance and the oversized grey sweatpants hanging loosely around her legs was almost comical, especially because she was wearing an enormous dark hoodie that swallowed most of her frame.

The hoodie was so large that Alex didn't need more than half a second to recognize it as Lando's. The sleeves completely covered Amelie's hands, the hem fell nearly to the middle of her thighs, and the hood rested loosely against the back of her perfectly styled hair. She looked like someone who had walked straight out of a luxury premiere and immediately decided that being glamorous was no longer worth the effort.

—Finally,— Amelie said, stepping aside immediately so he could enter.

Alex stared at her for a second before walking inside, still trying to understand why she had been harassing him for two straight hours if she apparently had no intention of explaining herself.

—Why are you so desperate for me to get here if you can write by yourself?— he asked, closing the door behind him as he dropped his keys onto the nearest table. —You've literally been sending me messages since midnight like the building was on fire.—

Alex's sentence died somewhere in his throat.

He had taken perhaps three steps into the room before his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, and the first thing he noticed was that absolutely nothing was happening. The mixing desk was completely dark, the monitors were switched off, the microphones remained covered, and there wasn't a single open project waiting on the computer screens. The studio looked less like a place where someone had been working for hours and more like a room that had been abandoned shortly after everyone else left.

Alex slowly turned his head toward Amelie.

—You're not writing anything.—

Amelie gave him a completely innocent look.

—Not yet.—

—Not yet?—

He looked around again, almost expecting someone to jump out and explain the joke. Instead, he spotted Benny asleep in the corner of the couch, curled beneath a blanket with his head resting against one of the cushions. Beside him sat Amelie's MacBook, open and illuminated, but instead of Logic, Pro Tools, Ableton, or any other program Alex might have expected, the screen displayed Pinterest.

Alex's eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, immediately recognizing the endless grid of photographs filling the screen. There were close-ups of diamond rings, different settings, different cuts, different bands, different stones, and enough engagement-ring inspiration photographs to make him wonder whether Amelie had been sitting there conducting research for the past two hours instead of writing the song she had apparently summoned him to the studio for.

Alex stared at the screen.

Then he stared at Amelie.

Then he looked back at the screen, slowly taking in the dozens of engagement rings filling the Pinterest page before finally looking at her again with an expression of complete disbelief.

—You dragged me here at two in the morning to look at engagement rings?—

Amelie didn't even bother pretending otherwise. She walked over to the couch, grabbed Alex firmly by the wrist, and pulled him down beside her before he could properly protest.

—Sit.—

—Amelie—

—Sit, Alex.—

He reluctantly dropped onto the couch beside her, still looking at her like she had completely lost her mind. Amelie immediately reached over Benny, carefully avoiding waking him, and grabbed her MacBook from the cushion beside him before settling it across her lap. She clicked back onto Pinterest, scrolling through another collection of photographs while Alex watched her in silence.

—Okay, so,— she began, as though this were a perfectly normal conversation to be having at two in the morning after a movie premiere, —Pietra called me a couple of hours ago. We were just talking about random things at first,— Amelie continued, her eyes fixed on the laptop while her fingers scrolled slowly through another collection of rings. —She was telling me about the yacht and Rio and how everyone has apparently been bullying Lando because he's been sulking all week, and then somehow we started talking about weddings. I don't even remember exactly how we got there, but she asked me if I'd ever thought about what I wanted my engagement ring to look like.—

Amelie paused for a second, her finger hovering over the trackpad while she stared at a photograph of a large oval diamond surrounded by a delicate halo of smaller stones. She clicked on it, zoomed in, frowned slightly, and then scrolled away again as though the decision had somehow become more complicated simply because she had looked at another ring.

—And that's when I realized two things,— she continued, still not looking at Alex. —First, if Pietra is asking me what kind of engagement ring I want, it's probably because Lando has absolutely no fucking idea what he's doing and has been panicking about it for an entire week.—

Alex slowly nodded.

—That's... probably accurate.—

—And second,— Amelie said, pointing toward the screen with one covered hand, —I realized I don't know either.—

Alex stared at her.

Amelie continued scrolling as though she hadn't just delivered what was, in his opinion, an absolutely insane reason for dragging someone into a recording studio at two in the morning.

—So that's why you're here,— she concluded, selecting another photograph and zooming in on the setting. —I need to figure out what I actually want.—

Alex blinked several times.

—I'm sorry, what exactly am I supposed to do?—

—Help me.—

—Help you what?—

Amelie finally looked away from the screen, giving him an expression that suggested the answer should have been painfully obvious.

—Pick my engagement ring.—

Alex stared at her.

For several seconds, he genuinely wondered whether Amelie had somehow managed to become more sleep-deprived than he was, because there was no universe in which dragging him into a dark recording studio at two in the morning to look at engagement rings constituted a normal request.

—I'm here to watch you look at rings?— he finally asked, pointing toward the MacBook with an incredulous expression. —That's the emergency? You have spent the last two hours harassing me because you needed someone to sit next to you while you scroll through Pinterest?—

Amelie nodded as though this were perfectly reasonable.

—No. You're here to make sure Lando gets what I want.—

Alex's mouth fell open slightly.

—What?—

Amelie had already returned her attention to the laptop, scrolling past another photograph of a ring with a pear-shaped stone and an impossibly thin band.

—You're going ring shopping with him.—

Alex immediately stood.

—Hell no.—

The sudden movement made Benny stir beneath his blanket, mumbling something incomprehensible before turning his face toward the back of the couch. Amelie barely acknowledged him, simply looking up at Alex with a completely unimpressed expression while he paced a few steps away from the couch as though physically distancing himself from the ridiculous responsibility she had just attempted to assign him.

—Alex—

—No.—

—Come on.—

—Absolutely not.—

—Alex, please.—

—Amelie, I am not going engagement-ring shopping with your boyfriend.—

She closed the MacBook slowly, placing it on her lap while watching him pace back and forth in front of the studio's dark mixing desk. There was something almost amusing about how genuinely horrified he looked, because Alex had willingly participated in far stranger things with her throughout their friendship, but apparently this particular request had finally crossed whatever invisible line he had established.

—Why are you acting like I'm asking you to help me bury a body?— she asked.

—Because helping your boyfriend pick out your engagement ring when he’s trying to keep it a secret is basically the emotional equivalent of burying a body!— Alex declared, throwing his hands up in the air as he continued pacing side to side across the hardwood floor. —Amelie, you were supposed to stop getting in the way while Lando makes these decisions! You already know he’s planning it, you know he stole a ring, you know he had a website open—you’re literally destroying the man’s entire surprise piece by piece!—

Amelie let out a sharp, exasperated sigh, setting the MacBook firmly onto the coffee table beside her and crossing her arms over the front of Lando’s giant hoodie.

—What if it’s ugly, Alex?— she demanded, her hazel eyes locking onto him with absolute, dead-pan seriousness. —Don’t get me wrong, Lando has always bought me beautiful things. His taste in jewelry is usually great. But this is different. This is a ring I’m supposed to wear on my hand for the rest of my life! What if he gets something with a giant, weirdly shaped stone or a band that looks like it belongs to a Victorian ghost? I just want to have a say in the ring I’m going to wear forever!—

Alex stopped mid-stride, staring at her with his hands planted firmly on his hips.

—So then what do you actually want?— he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. —If you’re so terrified of him getting an ugly ring, what does the dream ring look like?—

Amelie immediately snatched the MacBook right back off the table, opening the lid with a dramatic flourish and tapping aggressively at the trackpad.

—That’s what I’m trying to find out!— she practically yelled in a hushed, desperate whisper, turning the screen toward him to reveal forty different bookmarked tabs of delicate, timeless emerald and oval-cut diamonds. —Look! I’m narrowing it down! I want something simple, timeless, delicate band, no tacky halos, just classic. And since Lando is coming back from Ibiza tomorrow and is probably going to go to a jeweler at some point this week, you are going to be his helpful best friend who casually accompanies him and subtly guides his hand toward the exact three options I am going to save into a private folder on your phone right now.—

Alex stared at the screen, then at Amelie’s fiercely determined face, and let out the longest, most utterly defeated groan of his entire life, dropping his head back toward the studio ceiling as he realized he was officially trapped.

Alex stayed like that for several seconds, head tilted toward the ceiling, eyes closed as though he were silently negotiating with every decision that had brought him to this exact moment. He could have refused again, technically, and he probably should have, considering the bizarre ethical implications of helping someone choose an engagement ring without knowing whether that person even wanted his assistance. But this was Amelie, and Alex had known her long enough to understand that once she had decided something mattered, she would keep pushing until everyone around her eventually surrendered.

He slowly lowered his head and looked at her again.

Amelie was already staring back at him with that infuriatingly hopeful expression, her hands tucked inside the sleeves of Lando's oversized hoodie while the MacBook rested across her thighs. She wasn't laughing anymore, either. Beneath all the teasing and ridiculousness of dragging him into the studio at two in the morning, there was something genuinely vulnerable in her expression that made Alex pause.

This wasn't actually about controlling Lando's proposal.

At least, not entirely.

Amelie was suddenly realizing that the wedding she'd spent years insisting she didn't care about was becoming real enough that she needed to start imagining it.

And apparently, once she allowed herself to imagine it, she had a lot of opinions.

—Fine,— Alex finally sighed, dropping himself back onto the couch beside her. —I'll help you figure out what you actually want. But I'm not promising I'll go shopping with him, because if he finds out I helped you, I'm blaming you entirely.—

Amelie's face immediately brightened.

—Deal.—

—And you're not allowed to tell him I know anything.—

—I won't.—

—And you're definitely not allowed to send me into a jewelry store alone with him while secretly watching through the window like some kind of engagement-ring spy.—

Amelie paused.

—That wasn't my plan.—

Alex gave her a look.

—You were absolutely going to do that.—

She smiled innocently.

—Maybe.—

Alex sighed again, but this time he couldn't help laughing as he pulled the MacBook closer between them.

—Okay, then. Show me everything you've saved so far.—

Amelie immediately opened the private Pinterest board, and Alex watched the screen fill with rows of rings that looked, to his admittedly untrained eye, almost identical. There were oval diamonds, emerald cuts, pear-shaped stones, thin gold bands, platinum bands, tiny diamonds lining the edges, completely plain bands, vintage settings, modern settings, and several photographs where Alex genuinely couldn't understand what distinguished one ring from another.

—These are all different?— he asked skeptically.

Amelie turned toward him with genuine offense.

—Obviously they're different.—

—They look exactly the same.—

—No, they don't.—

—Amelie, if you showed these to me blindfolded and told me to identify which was which, I'd fail immediately.—

She laughed, reaching over to enlarge one of the photographs.

—Okay, look at this one. See how the stone sits slightly higher?—

Alex leaned closer.

—Barely.—

—That's the point.—

—Right.—

He nodded solemnly as though he'd suddenly become an expert in fine jewelry.

—Very important distinction.—

Amelie rolled her eyes, but she was smiling again as she moved through the photographs. The more they talked, the more Alex realized she wasn't simply looking for something expensive or impressive. She was trying to understand what felt like her.

—Okay, I know I don't want a halo,— she said, saving another photograph into a folder. —I definitely don't want anything huge. I don't want something where the first thing people see is the diamond from across the room.—

—So modest?—

—No, not modest.—

She stopped scrolling and thought for a moment.

—I want it to feel special without looking like I'm trying to prove something.—

Alex nodded slowly.

—That actually makes sense.—

—And I think I want yellow gold.— She saved another image. —Maybe...—

Then she frowned.

—Or platinum.—

—You just said yellow gold.—

—I know.—

—So why are we looking at platinum?—

—Because I don't know yet.—

Alex smiled.

—You're terrible at making decisions.—

—I'm very good at making decisions.—

—You changed your mind three times in the last thirty seconds.—

—That's called exploring my options.—

He laughed quietly as she continued scrolling, occasionally stopping when something caught her attention. What surprised him most was how seriously she was taking every tiny detail. She wasn't obsessing over the price, the brand, or whether the ring looked impressive enough for photographs. Instead, she kept talking about how it would feel against her hand, whether it would work with the jewelry she already wore, whether she could imagine wearing it ten years from now, whether it would still feel like something she chose rather than something that simply looked expensive.

Eventually Alex noticed that the folder they had created on his phone had become much larger than expected.

He glanced down.

—We've saved twenty-three rings.—

Amelie looked over.

—That's not that many.—

—It's twenty-three.—

—Exactly.—

—We started ten minutes ago.—

—We're making progress.—

Alex shook his head, but he didn't argue anymore.

Instead, he handed her his phone and watched as she created a new private album, carefully naming it something completely unassuming so nobody would accidentally stumble across it. Then she began moving the photographs they'd selected into it one by one, pausing every few seconds to reconsider whether she really liked each option.

When she finally finished, she looked at the screen with a strangely thoughtful expression.

—Do you know what I just realized?—

Alex looked at her.

—What?—

Amelie rested the phone against her knee.

—I actually have expectations.—

He didn't immediately understand what she meant.

—For the ring?—

She shook her head.

—For everything.—

Her voice had changed slightly, becoming quieter and more contemplative as she stared at the photographs they'd collected. Alex could tell she was no longer really talking about Pinterest anymore.

—I always said I didn't care about weddings. Remember? Whenever anyone asked me, I'd say I'd rather just elope somewhere or have dinner with everyone afterward, and that I didn't need some huge ceremony with hundreds of people staring at me.—

Alex nodded.

—You did say that.—

—I know.—

She smiled faintly.

—I think I lied.—

Alex turned toward her.

Amelie looked down at her hands, pulling the sleeves of Lando's hoodie farther over her fingers.

—I don't think I ever admitted it because it sounded too... I don't know. Too girly, maybe. Too predictable. Like I'd become one of those little girls who grows up planning her wedding before she even knows who she's going to marry.—

She paused, then laughed softly.

—But I think I actually have been imagining it for years.—

Alex didn't interrupt.

—I want my dad to walk me down the aisle.—

She said it so simply that Alex felt something shift in his chest.

—I want my friends there. I want Minnie next to me. I want you there, obviously, even though you'll probably cry and deny it for the rest of your life.—

—I will absolutely deny it.—

—You're going to cry.—

—I won't.—

—You will.—

He smiled.

—Fine. Maybe a little.—

Amelie smiled before continuing.

—I want my mom there. I want the people who have actually been there through everything, not just famous people we happen to know because of work. I want everyone who matters to me sitting in one room, knowing exactly why they're there.—

She looked back toward the laptop.

—I want the ceremony outside. Somewhere beautiful, but not so extravagant that it feels like we're trying to impress people. I want trees and flowers and candles, probably somewhere warm. I want the kind of place where you can hear everything around you when nobody is talking.—

Alex listened quietly as she continued, realizing that she had clearly thought about this far more than she had ever admitted.

—I want handwritten vows.—

She saved another photograph.

—I want Lando to actually write something himself, too. Not something someone else wrote for him, and not some generic thing from Pinterest. I want him to stand there and tell me what he actually feels.—

Her smile became softer.

—I think I'd cry before he even finished.—

Alex smiled.

—You definitely would.—

—I know.—

She laughed quietly.

Then she became thoughtful again.

—I want the reception to be loud.—

Alex raised an eyebrow.

—That was a quick change.—

—No, the ceremony can be quiet. The reception needs to be completely insane. I want everyone dancing until nobody can stand anymore. I want people taking their shoes off. I want someone inevitably falling into a pool. I want the people who never dance to somehow end up dancing.—

Alex laughed.

—You're planning chaos.—

—It's my wedding. I'm allowed.—

She continued scrolling through the folder, becoming more animated as each idea came to her.

—I want a really good photographer, but I don't want the entire day to feel like a photoshoot. I want candid pictures. I want pictures of Lando and me when we don't know anyone is taking them. I want pictures of my dad seeing me for the first time. I want pictures of Minnie crying. I want pictures of you pretending you're not crying.—

—I really hate how much confidence you have in that.—

—I know you.—

She smiled before continuing.

—I want a dress that's actually me. I don't know exactly what that means yet, but I don't want something just because it's fashionable. I want to look back at pictures when I'm sixty and still think I looked beautiful.—

Alex nodded.

—That's probably the most important part.—

—Exactly.—

She paused, then added another thought.

—And I want a second dress.—

Alex laughed.

—Of course you do.—

—For dancing.—

—Naturally.—

—And I want good food.—

—You already told me that.—

—I know, but it's important.—

She began counting on her fingers.

—Pasta, probably. Something Mexican, definitely. Maybe something Italian because Lando will complain otherwise. And dessert stations because I don't want one tiny piece of cake.—

Alex shook his head, smiling.

—You're actually serious about this.—

Amelie looked at him.

For once, she didn't make a joke.

—Yeah.—

There was something almost startling about the certainty in her voice.

She looked back down at the private folder, her thumb slowly moving across the screen as she examined the photographs they'd saved.

—I think if I'm going to do this, I want to do it properly.—

Alex studied her for a moment before smiling.

—Then you should.—

Amelie looked over at him.

—Really?—

—Yeah. Why shouldn't you have expectations for the most important day of your life?—

She didn't answer immediately.

Alex leaned back against the couch, glancing at the folder again.

—You don't have to pretend you don't care just because you've spent years telling everyone you don't care. If you want flowers, get flowers. If you want a specific dress, get the dress. If you want your dad to walk you down the aisle and your friends to cry and your husband to write his own vows, then that's what you want.—

Amelie's eyes softened.

—Husband.—

She repeated the word quietly, almost testing how it sounded.

Alex smiled.

—Yeah. Husband.—

She looked down at the screen again, and a small, almost disbelieving smile appeared across her face.

—Lando's going to be my husband.—

Alex watched her expression change, and suddenly understood why she had dragged him there at two in the morning.

This wasn't really about the ring.

The ring was simply the first tangible piece of something enormous that had previously existed only as an idea.

Amelie was realizing that she wasn't just dating Lando anymore.

She was imagining a life with him.

A wedding.

A home.

A family.

A future that had enough permanence to require decisions about tiny details like diamonds and flowers and vows.

[thegirlinthebox-ed]

Creds at https://www.instagram.com/gurrango?igsh=dXEzdHV5Y2Jqa3Vh&igsi=dXEzdHV5Y2Jqa3Vh

RANGO (@gurrango) • Instagram photos and videos

19K Followers, 445 Following, 76 Posts - See Instagram photos and videos from RANGO (@gurrango)

[thegirlinthebox-ed]

Creds at https://www.instagram.com/gurrango?igsh=dXEzdHV5Y2Jqa3Vh&igsi=dXEzdHV5Y2Jqa3Vh

https://www.instagram.com/gurrango?igsh=dXEzdHV5Y2Jqa3Vh&igsi=dXEzdHV5Y2Jqa3Vh

[ofdogsandwolves]

Question for Anyone that read Allograft:

I said at the end of the fic that I would try and have the sequal ready to post by mid September. As it stands I have 2 and half chapters written with some plans coming up and school due to start in a months time. I don't have as much time to work on the series as I had hoped. In general would you prefer me to start with weekly updates in September with the knowledge that after a few weeks updates would be less frequent until winter break. Or would you rather wait longer, until December or even January but be more likely to get regular weekly updates for the duration of the fics. (Yes I said fics but shhh) If you haven't read the change of heart series and have no idea what I'm talking about right now feel free to answer what you would prefer as a reader regardless :)

Post in September with irregular updates

Wait until at least December but get regular updates

Remaining time: 22 hours 27 minutes

[acchaean]

I can't wait for the cars to be back on track so I can write one shots about post race scenarios again

[lintawa]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/70371591

So I wrote this little drabble like a year ago and it's pretty messy and poor.

But I really like the concept so I'm gonna draw some stuf and give more information abt this au.

I'd be very happy to hear any questions abt it.

This is "broken" au where Max was never a race driver. He stayed with Sophie (Sophie and Jos're divorced here too). Daniel Riccardo is in Red bull on the moment of 2021 season and Lewis is 8 time world champion.

And Max is a usual engineer With an intuition for understanding cars and a total avoidance of driving . And he has had terrible headaches since childhood. People don't really notice him - they constantly step on his feet in lines, they forget his name, his emails get lost unless they're sent twice. Max is a bit like Schrödinger's cat. He exists in a superposition for the universe, making him largely unnoticed. (Yes, yes, yes, idiotic examples from quantum physics that have no relation to reality. We love that. )

To imagine the character of this Max, imagine that all his straightforwardness and honesty were mixed with a cocktail of formulas and calculations and the fact that he was constantly overlooked at school and uni.

On the one hand, he doesn't have the confidence of a champion in his words, on the other hand, he has very little experience of social interactions other than a couple of his friends.

[f1hazexoxo]

hii can i request a lando smau with ice skater reader? thanks for considering love your fics 🩷

summer break on ice - LN4

─────────────────── pairing: ice skater f!reader x bf!lando authors note: hii this is my first time doing a smau so kinda nervous.. anyways i really enjoyed it so i think i'll be doing more in the future! thanks for the request x pictures are all from pinterest! ─────────────────── your.username

liked by lando, your.bsf, maxfewtrell and 150k others your.username little glimpse of training lately 🤍 your.bsf and then you can finally see me! ⤷ your.username right😍😍 lando wdym she's seeing me your.bsf you wish user1 excited for the summer break dumpsss!! lando doesn't seem that sunny over there ⤷ user2 😭😭😭 your.username yeah not everyone is on vacation💔 lando you will be soon 😘 user3 GORGEOUSSS your.username

liked by lando, your.bsf, oscarpiastri and 220k others your.username small break☀️ maxfewtrell does he even know how to use that camera ⤷ your.username he's learning❤️ lando i got confused for a sec cut me some slack user1 he looks so confused i can't😭 user2 ok but can he fight cause you're STUNNING ⤷ user3 he has to fight all of us oscarpiastri please tell me you're taking him skating this year ⤷ your.username 👀

your.username

liked by lando, your.bsf, maxfewtrell and 232k others your.username few more days of paradise🐚🥥🌴 your.bsf what the 3rd slide said! ⤷ your.username 😭😭 lando rude💔 user1 PRETTYYY user2 omg we need more skating content!! ⤷ your.username soon! ❤️ lando so i had to stand there for 3 minutes just for that picture? ⤷ maxfewtrell it is tuff tho give her credit your.username thank u max 🙈

lando

liked by your.username, oscarpiastri, your.bsf and 722k others lando i'm officially a pro photographer

your.username there's not a single minute when it's not in your hands ⤷ lando i like taking pictures of you 😘 user1 she's back in training again? ⤷ user2 just practicing the new program afaik user3 him always sneaking in a picture of y/n🥺 your.bsf i hope you deleted that horrible picture of me tho ⤷ lando y/n insisted that i keep it so... your.username 🫣

your.username

story comments user1 NO WAY user2 omg queen we need a video of it your.bsf oh no😭 oscarpiastri make sure he doesn't break anything we still need him lando

liked by your.username, oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and 650k others lando summer break activities

charles_leclerc genuinely how did you fall when you weren't even on the ice ⤷ oscarpiastri was about to ask the same question user1 lmaoo not everyone flaming him😭 user2 i'd pay to see a video of you and y/n skating next to each other ⤷ user3 that would be so funny omg user4 little bit of this and little bit of that ahh your.username ❤️❤️❤️ liked by author

your.username

liked by lando, your.bsf, maxfewtrell and 270k others your.username back again✨ user1 IS THAT LANDO IN THE SECOND SLIDE ⤷ your.username maybe🧐 user3 not him making you fall too omg💀 lando never again ⤷ your.username you did good baby🥰 maxfewtrell you don't have to lie lando i got brutally mogged oscarpiastri i hope you took a video of that ⤷ your.username sent! lando 😔😔 your.bsf i skate better than him anyways ⤷ your.username ik that's right❤️ user4 lando skating before gta6 is crazy

lando

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