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𝐀 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 [𝐋𝐒𝟏𝟖] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟓

photo credits: Pinterest

Pairing: Lance Stroll × Fem!Reader

Summary: Asking the driver of the team you work for to attend a wedding with you as your fake date is possibly one of the dumbest ideas you've had ever.. but also one of the best.

Warnings: injury, one bed trope but actually no catfishing this time lols, mentions of exes, lotttta feels, yep that's it methinks :)

A/N: I'm going to start wrapping this up in the next few chapters, phew, it's been a journey but there's still a while to go :D Thank you for the support, the likes, the reposts, it all means so much and doesn't go unnoticed!

Please don't be silent readers, I always want to hear your thoughts :)

Word Count: 3.1k words (11 mins reading time avg)

…

You had been restlessly shifting and unable to fall asleep for nearly an hour. The clock blinked, taunting you as the minutes seemed to drag on.

Rather than persisting in unsuccessful attempts to find comfort in the sheets of your bed, you swung your legs over and picked yourself up, firmly placing both feet on the floor.

After a moment, you managed to stand up, slightly unsteady as you slipped your feet into your slippers and maneuvered around the bed's edges to reach the door.

Glancing back at Lance, who was deeply immersed in sleep, you opened the door rather hesitantly, taking care as to not disturb him. You left the door slightly cracked open, walking over to the bathroom.

As the light from the hallway seeped through said crack in the door, the F1 driver roused from his slumber, disturbed by the sudden brightness shining on to his eyes. He rolled over to the other side, seeking a respite from it.

Half-awake now, he distinctly heard a faucet begin running in the otherwise silent house, lifting only his head to turn and squint at your empty bed.

His head lazily sank back on to the pillow. He held on to the hope that when you returned, you would close the door anyway, allowing him to roll back over to his preferred side, finding his current one rather uncomfortable.

As if on cue, the door creaked open. However, the expected sound of the door clicking shut did not follow, causing him to groan inwardly.

Lance contemplated whether to get up himself, but instead, reasoned that his preferred course of action would entail zero movement.

“Y/N?” His voice croaked out, a given at this time of night.

You hummed, not using your words. “Could you close the door? The light.. y’know. M’sorry.”

“Sure,” you mumbled, retracing your steps and pushing the palm of your hand into the door until you felt it click shut.

As you fumbled around in the darkness, attempting to locate the edge of the bed, a sharp pang of pain shot through your shin when it unexpectedly collided with the bedpost.

“Ow, motherfu..” You gasped out as quietly as you could, leaning down to rub the aching area. You hissed through your teeth when you struggled to straighten it.

“You okay?” You heard Lance ask, his voice heavy and laced with grogginess. “Yep.” You breathed out, but it came out sounding like a cry for help instead.

You found yourself hopping on one leg in an effort to reach the edge of the bed and eventually sat down, wincing in discomfort.

He shifted his body back to his original side, noticing you sitting upright at the opposite end of the bed, with your head lowered.

He removed the covers over his legs and slowly got up from the air mattress; in his defence, he tried to do it as quickly as his current state would allow him. “Is that how you sleep? Worrying.”

You exhaled through your nose at the sound of his deeper than usual voice, pulling your feet towards you as he walked over to turn the lamp on. “Elbow? Leg? Head?”

“Yes, they’re all body parts, well done.” He breathily scoffed, the mattress dipping as he took a seat. “Which one? I heard the thud.”

You met his eyes for a brief moment, then pointed at your right knee. “May I?” He tilted his chin towards your leg and you could swear that blood was rushing to your face, you swallowed then nodded.

Lance rested his weight on to his knee, tentatively reaching for the hem of your loose pajama trousers and continuing to fold them up until he reached the part you’d pointed at a moment ago.

He gestured for you to hold the rolled up hem as he assessed your knee with concerned eyes. His focus held a certain charm, yet you forced yourself to interpret it as mere kindness, intentionally avoiding reading too much into the situation. He’s an F1 driver, he’ll know what to be looking for if you had bruised it at all.

His thumb stretched the skin on your knee, and he tried hard to ignore the goosebumps that arose on your leg following the contact.

“It’s swelling up, how bad does it hurt?”

Your heart began beating stupidly faster when his eyes glanced up to meet your gaze. “Uh, not much. Just when I straighten it, it’s a little painful.”

“Alright, let me get an ice pack. It should help reduce the swelling a little.” You felt his breath fan over your skin and you covered your leg again shortly after he rose up.

Before you had room to disagree, he was already halfway out of the door and heading downstairs.

The lingering scent of his cologne, a blend of petrichor and wood, filled the room, even hours after he had sprayed it on. You’d grown oddly accustomed to the fragrance, finding it.. comforting? As if it belonged, had a home here.

You looked up when he slipped back inside of the room minutes later. “Got some frozen peas, no ice packs. Should do the trick though.” He countered, whispering. He wrapped it in the tea towel he’d also stolen from the kitchen.

“You need help lying down?” You shook your head and shoved both fists into your mattress to hoist yourself further on to the bed but struggled to lift your leg. Lance spared no moment when he saw the muted pain on your face, promptly positioning his hand under your calf.

“Take it slow.” He advised, resting it on the bed, you again felt your heart flutter at how careful he was being.

He sat near your knee, placing the bag of frozen peas on it and you flinched from the sudden coldness. After a brief moment of silence, you spoke up.

"I'm sorry for waking you up," you apologised.

“It’s alright,” he assured you, smiling a little. “You owe me twice now, anything I want remember?” A blush crept onto your cheeks as you pressed your lips together, averting your gaze from his infectious smile.

"You say that like you’ve made your mind up already," you remarked, a hint of curiosity in your tone.

He shrugged, repositioning the frozen pack on your skin. "I have a few ideas. Just need to narrow them down to two.”

The smile never left his face and you rolled your eyes, “gotta clean the bathroom too I bet.” He laughed, still refusing to give away what he was thinking.

"Thanks for doing this." He dismissed your gratitude with a wave of his hand. He was getting tired of sitting upright and thus gestured for you to scoot over.

You did so eventually, he laid besides you but with a noticeable distance between your bodies. His upper back was leaned on the headboard, "I'll stay for 20 minutes or so then take the.. peas off."

You smiled, mumbling a small "okay."

Eventually, you both got lost in talking. While the conversations weren't profoundly intricate, they revolved around light subjects such as work and the dreadful next few days here.

Amidst it all, you found yourself laughing at one of Lance's numerous stories, often requiring you to press a hand against your mouth to suppress the bursts of laughter.

He moves to sit up and remove the bag of peas from your knee, turning to set it on your bedside table with the towel included. "You should keep it elevated." He mumbles and runs his tongue along his bottom lip, then stands up to grab the pillows from his air mattress.

He comes back over before you can really understand what he's doing, positioning them so they're below your calf, keeping your leg raised. "Lance, you don't have pillows anymore."

"Good for the spine." You scoff, "and for psychos." He pulls the duvet over you, bidding you a goodnight but you reach for his hand to stop him from walking away. You wrap it around his fingers, and he could swear his heart overlooked a beat.

"Don't be ridiculous. Take them back. Or better yet-", You pause before you finish your sentence and Lance's head turns but not enough to meet your lingering stare.

"Stay. I- I could use the company."

He swallows the words stuck in his throat, his fingers twitching against yours and he smiles a nervous smile. "I usually go on a few dates before the bed territory gets crossed." He turns to look at you and you retract your fingers from his.

You chuckle, "it's up to you."

"Only because you asked so nicely." He remarked. With a nervous swallow, you can't help but question why you're subjecting yourself to this internal turmoil.

The sensible thing to do would be to ignore these feelings until the weekend concludes and revert back to the way things were, colleagues with a tenuous friendship. Yet, contrary to that, you find yourself seizing every opportunity to grow closer to him.

Lance climbs into the bed after turning the lamp off, faffing with his pillow before plopping his head on to it. You extend half of your duvet to him and he pulls it just so it covers his legs. He bends his arm behind his head and eventually closes his eyes.

You turn your head towards him, though his features are no longer clearly discernible in the dim lighting. However, the sky taking on a deep blue hue, rather than being pitch black, helps you in outlining the contours of his nose, his jawline, his cheeks.

You eventually succumb to the dreariness washing over you, the frantic beating of your heart slowing. You ponder in a hazy manner about the eventual time that you have to revert back to a mere professional relationship with Lance Stroll, considering the infatuation that now you're a captive of.

Each gentle touch from him quickens your heartbeat, and every glance he casts your way sends your head into a whirlwind. His smile occupies your thoughts relentlessly, even in his absence. His scent is like a combination of rosewood and aftershave, you cosy up to it as if its the last one you'll ever smell.

You close your eyes, a light smile painted on your lips.

...

You woke up the following morning to find your head resting on his forearm, inches away from where it connected with his shoulder, your hand flat on his chest. You were laying on your side and you held your breath when you tilted your squinted gaze up to see his peaceful state.

You didn't want to wake him up, you wanted to relish this moment and appreciate it as if it was real. As if this unspoken connection the two of you shared was laid out in the open and no longer a secret caged by your ribs, consuming your heart.

You shut your eyes again when Lance stirred, pretending you were asleep to anticipate his reaction when he realised what was happening, or what had happened. You vaguely remember having quite a bit of distance between yourself and him when you fell asleep.

He brought his free hand up to rub his eyes, inhaling a deep breath through his nose then exhaling seconds later as his consciousness caught up with him. Your hand followed a similar rhythm, mirroring the steady rise and fall of his chest.

His fingers rested atop of yours as he came to terms with what was happening, blinking a few times then wincing in discomfort at the tenseness of his upper arm. He didn't know how long you'd been laying on it but it was certainly throbbing. He folded his arm to relieve some of the tension, his hand lightly skimming the exposed skin under the hem of your top, tracing circles with the pad of his thumb on your waist.

His touch caused your body to instantly tense up, stirring a whirlwind of emotions within you. The simple act of singular motions on your skin ignited a storm of chaos.

He didn't mean to stare but he couldn't help it either. Under the morning sun, the soft contours of your shut eyes, the curves of your cheeks and the bump on your nose wasn't something Lance could openly admire without arousing your curiousity.

You hummed, knowing if you continued on with your eyes closed, you'd fall back asleep again. Your ears perked at a distant door squeaking open in the hallway, telling you it was nearing breakfast time. You slowly looked up to see Lance's head turned to his phone, he was scrolling through his notifications he'd recieved while he was asleep.

You didn't know if he thought you were still asleep, but when you slid your hand off of his chest to bring it to your head, swiping some of the sweat you'd gathered during the night off of your forehead, he set his phone down.

"Morning," he greeted you, his eyes a little puffy and a prominent wrinkle between his brows, yet still a grin on those pink lips.

"Good mornin'", you returned his greeting.

"Can I just-", he began but you took the hint when he removed his hand from your skin, picking his forearm up so your head was at a slight level. "Oh, sorry." He curved his arm around then stretched it out in front of him, satisifed when some life returned to it.

You rolled over to the other side, taking your phone off charge to check it in case you'd missed anything. You climbed out of the covers eventually, standing up but you quickly were forced down again when the limbs in your leg had instantly turned into jelly.

Lance chuckled behind you, "forget what happened last night?"

"Ah, I thought it had gotten better." You answered truthfully, you didn't have time to worry about this. Your brother was getting married today and you were supposed to be heading to the venue soon to get ready with your sister.

"I'll just have to wrap a bandage around it, my dress will cover it anyway."

...

The rest of the morning went by in a blur. Kevin is eagerly awaiting for his bride to come down the aisle in all of her glory, you'd seen her earlier and she was halfway through her hair and makeup, you couldn't imagine just how beautiful she'd look now.

You're sat at the front sandwiched between your mother and sister who are constantly looking over their shoulders, being unable to contain their excitement but annoyingly, all that is running through your mind is the enchanting smile, the playful eyes, and the wonderfully sculpted body belonging to Lance Stroll.

The atmosphere filled with a harmonious symphony of piano melodies, delighting everyone present. The guests rose from their seats, eagerly acknowledging her arrival, their smiles reflecting the grace she exuded.

As you observed, a smile formed on your lips in response to the tears welling up in your brother's eyes. He wasn't known for displaying emotions openly, making this moment particularly special in ways that perhaps you couldn't comprehend right now.

You take a deep breath as she leaves her father's arms and joins him at the altar.

You hadn't seen Lance since this morning but you knew you had to mask indifference towards him romantically while simulataneously pretending he was the man you were in love with. It really didn't seem difficult but the shortness of breath and the butterflies in your stomach you were experiencing every breathing moment he was near you was not helping your case.

You casually turn your head to try and catch sight of him but you can't place his princely brown hair anywhere in the crowd of people on the other side of the venue hall.

As the celebrant starts the ceremony script, you nonchalantly continued scanning the surroundings in search of him. The inability to spot him raises doubts in your mind - did he choose not to attend? You were confident that he had received an invitation, extended by the groom who had developed a fraternal fondness for him during the dinner rehearsal.

You find yourself wishing he'd given you a heads-up about his absence, or at the very least, informed you that he was contemplating it. However, in an instant, your emotions undergo a sudden shift as your wandering eyes lock onto an attractive face. A smile graces his features as he watches you smile back at him, assuming a grin of a lovesick girlfriend.

He was dressed in a black suit with his top button undone, his hair slightly neater than when he woke up beside you this morning. Seeing him in formal attire is a new sight. And he undeniably looks good.

You tear your eyes away at the light slap on your thigh from your mom, telling you to keep your head forward for the photographer.

Following her instructions, you shift your gaze from the bridesmaids to the groomsmen, eventually fixing your eyes on Thomas, the final member in the line of five. He was filling in for one of Kev's absent friends. He grins at you, causing you to quickly avert your gaze back to the bride and groom.

A wave of nausea washes over you as your eyes meet his, and you can't help but dread the remainder of the day that lies ahead. The mere possibility of encountering him multiple times fills you with frustration. He has always had a way of getting on your nerves, but that feeling had only intensified since your return.

As the ceremony concludes and the guests rise to applaud the newlyweds, you feel your posture falter, weakening from your knee. Your jaw clenches, and you make an effort to conceal the pained expression on your face, mindful of the photographers who are swiftly capturing as many photos as possible.

The last thing you wanted was to appear constipated in your brother's wedding photo album.

Kevin and his newly-wedded wife dashed down the aisle, with confetti bursting in the air and cheers resounding from the crowd. You instinctively bend your leg, trying to relieve some pressure, but as the pain radiates through the area around the bruise, you can't help but release a sharp breath.

Lance hops out of his row, crossing the aisle as the guests began mixing to head to the reception. He slides his hand around your waist to allow you to lean your weight on him when he nears you, having read the distressed expression on your face.

"You good?" he asks with genuine concern, his face hovering close to yours as he leans in to get a better look at you.

"Mm-hmm." You hum out, not having much to say that he wouldn't figure out anyway. You couldn't quite decipher which facet of his current cautiousness was an act that he was revealing to you, and you couldn't help but seriously contemplate why he hadn't pursued a career in acting, considering his ability to portray such emotions convincingly.

"Come on, let's find you somewhere to sit."

...

Part 6

Masterlist

Comment if you want to be tagged in the next part :)

Taglist: @fantasticbouquetwitchsthings @topguncultleader @spicyclover @amirahart @softiecaro @alilstressyandlotdepressy @eugene-emt-roe @e-lisa-bettan @strolleclercs @jjsprobablywrong @carmelita-holland @flowerchild-96 @rd14 @honethatty12 @keonminshea @pierre-gasssllyy @lestappenloverr @secretlyangrymagazine @chiliwhore @mentallyunstablebish @mcmuppet @xscorpioxmoon @ferrariloverr @rivivie @starkeyellow @vanillascreams @tororossoseb-blog @hiphopdancer101universe @hc-dutch @love4lando @chonkybonky @angstyeighteen @natasharomanoffisbaebby @little-angel-07 @voidskywxlker @vildetry-06 @sharllec @aundercover @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @spicyclover @mloyer @alesainz @hockey-racing-fubol @cinnamonroll2003 @honeyric3 @nikki01234

so true lmao

Ferrari after managing to turns 1-2 front row lock out into 17th and a DNF:

Bad day at the office but we’ll work hard to come back stronger next time 💪

𝐀 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 [𝐋𝐒𝟏𝟖] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

photo credits: Pinterest

Pairing: Lance Stroll x Fem!Reader

Summary: Asking the driver of the team you work for to attend a wedding with you as your fake date is possibly one of the dumbest ideas you've had ever.. but also one of the best.

Warnings: fluff, brief mentions of alcohol and being drunk, a tiiiiiny bit of sexual tension

Word Count: 3k words (11 mins reading time avg)

...

At some point, the boys had peeled away from the group after dinner when everyone headed for the club across the street.

After a little while of dancing with a few girls, and working your way through four or maybe six shots, you squeezed through the crowd to head over to an unoccupied table.

Despite your best efforts to try and balance yourself on the outsoles of your heels, you couldn't locate the brown-haired boy anywhere.

You groaned, plopping your bum on one of the stools and stretching your feet out ahead of you. It was that time of the night where you were beginning to curse younger you for choosing to wear heels.

"Don't tell me you're tired already!" Daisy called as she approached you.

She slightly stumbled from her drunken steps and you reached out your hand to help her keep both feet on the ground.

"I guess I'm getting old," you joked, observing as she clumsily positioned herself on the stool a few feet away from your legs, her tipsy movements betraying her level of inebriation.

She took a moment to herself, neither of you saying anything but you're eventually left alone when Daisy's pulled into the crowd again by one of her friends whom she'd invited rather late.

Deafening music pierced through your ears; while it may have elicited a surge of adrenaline a few hours ago, it now proved to be nothing more than a source of a throbbing headache.

You let out a sigh, contemplating whether to text Lance.

However, amidst the chaotic environment of a nightclub filled with alcohol, people, and loud music, the likelihood of a vibration or a ping in his pocket capturing his attention seemed slim.

You made your way to the bar and placed an order for another drink.

The bartender slid it to you across the smooth wooden countertop, and you took a sip through the straw, using your palm to cover the top.

Attempting to survey the club, you found yourself momentarily blinded by the flashing lights, hindering your vision for a brief moment.

You squinted your eyes and looked away, but then felt someone's hand brush against your shoulder. Startled, you jerked away from the touch, causing you to nearly lose your balance on your seat.

Lance quickly reacted, firmly pressing his hand into your waist to steady you. His touch ghosted over your side, ensuring that you remained stable.

"Oh.. hello." You say. The corners of his mouth curve upwards as he nods towards your drink, "how much have you had?"

You dismiss his question with a wave of your hand, "I thought you were with the boys."

"Everyone's coming back together," he spoke a little louder, aware that the crowd was becoming increasingly noisy the later it got.

“I came to find you," he added, ensuring his words reached your ears amidst the bustling club.

"You found me."

Lance's eyebrows knitted together, not understanding what you were saying and he instinctively lowered his head.

"What did you say?" Your lips are inches away from his neck, you swallow your words when you feel his hand press into your body again.

"Y-You found me." You repeated and the F1 driver chuckled, your eyes met for a brief moment as he turned his head. He promptly corrected his posture.

"Yes I have." You run the tip of your tongue across your bottom lip, and tuck it in, turning your head back to your drink to take another sip, feeling his gaze trained on you.

That stupid wave of disappointment came over you once more. Eventually, you finished your drink, all the while aware of his lingering presence behind you.

You swivelled around to face him again, determined to shake off whatever emotions had been plaguing you moments ago.

Your gaze travelled from his stomach up to his face, and in that moment, you realised just how tall he was. It hadn't fully registered until now, as you were sitting down and he was standing upright.

"What?" He looked like he was assessing you, but once you called him out on it, his eyes met yours.

"What?" He copied, you furrowed your eyebrows and tilted your head. He shrugged in response, wiping the tip of his nose with his thumb.

You allowed yourself to appreciate the lights that played across his face in the dimness of the club, regardless of whether or not he noticed you staring at him.

You were starting to feel disoriented, and suddenly, he'd become a muse for only you to admire.

Even as Lance watched the two drunks on the other end of the bar socialise without there being much regard for discerning conversation, he knew you were staring.

Whether it was in admiration or confusion, it stirred on an onset of nerves he hadn't felt before with you.

"Come on, I think it's time to get you home," he suggested, your gaze growing sleepier. An urge came over you to lean your head forward and find solace on his sweater, which did look incredibly cosy and inviting but you fought it, struggling to keep your eyes open.

"You alright?" Lance tilted his head to get a better look at your face, once he'd registered that it was the tiredness consuming you, he shook your shoulder.

You forcefully blinked your eyes open, forming your hand into a fist and absentmindedly pressing it against Lance's stomach for support, preventing yourself from swaying forward.

"I'm fine," you reassured him, your voice carrying a hint of exhaustion.

"Come on," he urged, firmly gripping your wrist and placing his other hand on your shoulder. With careful determination, he guided you off of the stool and maneuvered through the crowd, parting people to clear a narrow and cramped path as you stumbled along ahead of him.

It brought a sense of comfort to know that he was looking out for you, but at the same time, it left you with a bitter feeling because somewhere in your cloudy mind, you were aware that this display of care was just an act.

You shoulders slumped when you neared the exit, blinking when nothing really happened for a moment. You turned your head, and it took a moment for you to register where Lance had gone.

His body shielded the person he was conversing with, prompting you to muster your remaining strength and stagger back towards him, to find out what was happening.

"Lance," his name rolled off of your tongue as you neared him, your shoulder grazing against his arm.

You straightened yourself and your gaze fell upon Tom. A frustrated groan escaped your lips, clearly indicating your annoyance.

"Give it a rest." You look up to find his hardened expression.

"Just saying." Tom comments.

Lance's fists clench at his sides and you find its the right time to intervene, whether or not either men have noticed your presence.

You decide to pay your ex no attention, one because he didn't deserve it but two because you were too tired to bother with him.

"Lan, can we go? 'Am about to drop dead." You didn't want to risk a full-blown confrontation between Lance and Tom tonight, especially considering how visibly drunk Tom appeared to be.

"Yeah," he breathed out when he met your eyes, his jaw unclenching.

Tom scoffed and ventured off elsewhere. Both of you left the club, walking only a few blocks before you crossed the road to get to your car.

Just as you pressed the button to unlock the vehicle, Lance stopped you.

"Don't you think you're a little.. under the influence to be driving?" Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, and you feigned offence.

"Are you suggesting I'm drunk?" You prodded shamelessly.

"No. But I'm not suggesting you're sober either." You rolled your eyes, swaying a little from where your feet were planted on the ground.

"You can't even drive a manual." He scoffed, giving you an unimpressed look.

"I got my driving license with a manual." You didn't believe him but you also knew you didn't have much choice.

Lance extended his palm out. "Keys." You dropped them into his hand, and teetered over to the passenger side of the car, dropping on to the seat and shut the door after you.

You could finally rest your head and it felt good to hear silence over the booming club music.

You felt the car underneath you start up, and with one eye cracking open, you turned your head to see the Canadian looking rather dumbfounded. You didn't say anything as his hands ghosted over the handbrake, then the steering wheel.

"Manual driving license huh?" You teased, "shut up, what is it?"

You chuckled, pausing while you were trying to visualise the movements in your head. "Clutch all the way to the floor, then put it in first gear." He hummed once he'd done that, and you continued giving him instructions.

He was about to move off and you pointed behind the wheel to where the indicators were located, "signal." He stopped and flicked it upwards to which the familiar sound followed, "just testing you." He replied and you smiled.

Amidst a half-yawn, you asked, "did I pass?"

"With flying colours," came the reply as you finally closed your eyes.

…

"Ow," you stumble along the concrete path to the house, taking the left side to the garden door.

Lance follows you, though he glances back at the front door, wondering if you even knew where you were going.

"Y/N, the front door is that w... okay." He gives up when he sees you unlocking the latch, pushing it open.

You settle onto the lounge chair while he places his phone beside him after retrieving it from his back pocket. He then occupies the chair opposite you, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

The chairs were positioned near the edge of your family's glistening swimming pool, softly illuminated by the pool lights beneath the water.

Neither one of you were drunk enough to want to take a dip, the moon cast its glow upon the water's surface, creating a reflection that danced along with the ripples.

"Peaceful at least." Lance drew his gaze back at you, doubled over to try and unclasp your heels. He realised you were struggling, having alcohol in your system made even the smallest tasks virtually impossible.

"Let me." He kneels on the concrete beneath him, his fingers navigating the straps of the heel and tugging on them to force them to come undone, he did the same for the other heel, and eventually Lance tugs them off.

You sigh with relief, watching as he rose rather effortlessly and took his seat again. You smile at him and he returns it, his gaze falling from your face to the floor then to the garden around him.

"I'll call for you everytime I need someone to take my heels off." Your joke earns a little chuckle and he nods, seeing no issue with your demand. "Always happy to do that."

You bite your lower lip, glad that the darkness of the night concealed the faint blush spreading across your cheeks. Though you'd just cracked the worst joke of the century, you couldn't help but realise that his mood had shifted rather quickly.

As his head was turned, bathing in the ethereal glow of the moon's reflection, his forehead bore faintly etched lines where his eyebrows were knitted together.

Lance was never really one to open up to you so you knew your chances of him doing so now were rather small. In place of that, you had quite possibly a more terrible idea.

You stood up from the lounge chair, and hopped down on to the concrete decking surrounding the swimming pool, wincing when the pain in your feet was a little more painful than you'd anticipated.

"What are you doing?" he calls out, his voice carrying across the short distance.

You look at him, your lips pursing together before forming into a small grin. "Take a guess."

"You want to go into the pool?" You hummed, like a teacher prodding a child for an answer who was close to getting it right. "Now?" You scoff, applying a bit of pressure on the bottoms of your feet to try and numb the radiating pain.

"It's perfect, peaceful." He stands up and follows you, but takes the steps on the side instead which you can't say wasn't a wise choice.

"It's also dark and cold." He adds but you dismiss him. "Hey, the darkness and the cold.. ness don't bother me." Lance raises his eyebrows before smiling, hardly taking you seriously.

"Alright Elsa, let's do this another time, come on.” You whine, as a means of trying to convince him that this may be fun, and he sighs, squatting to dip his hand into the water.

“That’s not how you swim.” He rolls his eyes, making sure his hand was fully wet before turning his head to you.

He flicked the water from his fingertips up to your arms and face, and you flinched, feeling the cold droplets prick at your skin. “Dude.” You kiss your teeth, rubbing your arm down your face, feeling yourself sway back and forth.

“Careful,” He gets up rather quickly to create some distance between you and the edge of the pool, to be sure you didn’t fall in. As he checks to see if you’re alright, your eyes glance to his face then to the pool and you bite back a grin.

“What’s that?” You question, feigning captivation by something at the far end of the garden. When Lance follows your line of sight, you use your force and the distraction to push him into the pool.

Amidst the bursts of laughter, he eventually emerged to the surface, running his hand down his face and then back up through his hair. Gasping for a brief moment, he released a sigh and shook his head in a mixture of surprise and amusement.

“You’re.. oh you’re a prick.” He exclaimed, exasperated and cold from the unpleasant temperature of the pool.

“You gotta stop talking to my Uncle and learning all these words, you’re hurting my feelings.” You placed a hand over your chest, playfully fanning your eyes as if you were blinking back non-existent tears.

He smiles warmly despite being one-upped and you return it proudly, placing both hands on either side of your hips, accepting the small victory. “Alright alright, now help me up, please it’s freezing.”

You knelt down to reach for his extended hand, and because of your own foolishness or the possibility that you were a little too intoxicated, the mischievous smirk on his lips as he eagerly grasped your hand flew right over your head.

You yelped as you felt yourself lose balance very quickly, and in a matter of seconds, you hit the surface of the water then felt your entire body be embraced by the pool.

You could hear Lance’s deep laughter despite being underneath the water for the brief moment it took for you to swim back up.

Once you resurface, you quickly turn around to find Lance holding his hands up in a playful mock surrender. Determined to retaliate, you attempt to reach over and slap his arm, but he pulls away just in time.

"Hey, you get what you give," he teases, reminding you of the playful exchange and the consequences it entails.

A faint shiver coursed through your body as a gust of wind swept over the pool. You had no doubt that Lance was feeling it too, noticing a light red tint of colour on his nose and cheeks.

Curiously, you raise your arm above the water’s surface, witnessing goosebumps forming on your skin. "Me too." You glance up, finally realising that the F1 driver had closed the distance, leaving only a mere quarter of a meter separating the two of you.

The proximity between you becomes apparent right in that moment and almost immediately, another spark ignites in your body, but you’re not so sure it’s solely because of the cold.

Your gaze fell to his arm, he pulled his soaked sleeve up and you noticed the similar goosebumps on his skin. You couldn’t help the smile that overcame your lips and Lance grinned, “stupid idea.”

You let out a chuckle, which emerges slightly breathier than you had anticipated, and you notice your teeth starting to chatter a little from the cold.

You swallow nervously as his gaze fixates on you, reminiscent of this morning and in the club when you called him out for his lingering stares.

The air between you carries a hint of tension, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken connection. Rather this time, you didn’t have the intention to say something about it, whether or not it was the alcohol talking, you wanted to see what he’d say or.. do.

He draws closer to you but you don’t move away, your hand beneath the water instinctively gravitates towards him, as if guided by a force of some kind.

But, much to your disappointment, his attention is abruptly diverted as the kitchen light flicks on, capturing his focus. You shift your gaze and notice your sister stumbling her way into the room, followed closely by your parents.

You mask your sigh, attributing it solely to the cold, and Lance tilts his head towards the ladder, suggesting it's time to dry off.

The words you had on the tip of your tongue seem reluctant to escape, so you simply nod in agreement and follow him out of the pool. Accepting the towel he throws your way from the rack, you begin the process of drying off, silently acknowledging the untaken paths of conversation and connection that now retreat into the background.

When you walk into the kitchen to acknowledge your family that had returned, well your parents since your sister had already passed out on the couch, they only exchanged weird looks between them.

Neither of you were dripping wet but neither of you were dry either. You both eventually carried yourselves upstairs and you allowed Lance to go before you, as you settled on using your sister’s bathroom.

The night finally began to wind down after the pool escapade since neither you nor Lance had initiated another conversation. The lingering excitement and connection that existed earlier seemed to have faded away, perhaps because neither of you knew what to say or how to address what had happened.. or what was happening.

...

Part 5

Masterlist

Comment if you want to be tagged in the next part :)

Taglist: @tororossoseb-blog @hiphopdancer101universe @hc-dutch @love4lando @chonkybonky @angstyeighteen @natasharomanoffisbaebby @little-angel-07 @voidskywxlker @flowerchild-96 @vildetry06 @sharllec @aundercover @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @spicyclover @mloyer @alesainz @e-lisa-bettan @hockey-racing-fubol @cinnamonroll2003 @honeyric3 @mentallyunstablebish @mcmuppet @xscorpioxmoon @ferrariloverr @rivivie @starkeyellow @vanillascreams @rd14 @honethatty12 @keonminshea @pierre-gasssllyy @lestappenloverr @amirahart @secretlyangrymagazine @chiliwhore

this parallel makes me sad, thanks op 🥲

Azerbaijan Grand Prix 2018 -> Saudi Arabian Grand Prix 2024

actual children omg

max and daniel playing imaginary padel with each other [x]

𝐀 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 [𝐋𝐒𝟏𝟖] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟔

photo credits: Pinterest

Pairing: Lance Stroll × Fem!Reader

Summary: Asking the driver of the team you work for to attend a wedding with you as your fake date is possibly one of the dumbest ideas you've had ever.. but also one of the best.

Warnings: angst, lottssss of fluff cause u guys deserve some, lots of mentions of alcohol, basically a party lmao

A/N: I’ve got ideas for a mini-series with Lando and one-shots with Max but I need to finish this off before I get carried away elsewhere!! ALSO, super sorry for the late update but it’s been a hectic last few weeks with weddings (summers are BUSY) but yep, finally dialled down and ready to post!

Listen to 'Ho Hey' by The Lumineers during the dancing part, it's such a feel good song :')

Word Count: 3.4k words (12 mins reading time avg)

…

"Ow." You say monotonously as Lance rewraps the elastic bandage, then loosens it amidst your very nonchalant way of expressing agitation.

"The bruising's little better, you just gotta try and keep it straight." You nod, turning your attention to your sister who slid her chicken off of her fork by her teeth.

Lance turned to face his body forward again, tugging the sleeves of his blazer down. He watched as you directed your gaze towards your knee, carefully adjusting the bandage a couple of inches higher to prevent any itchiness.

"Can't believe you hurt it the day of the wedding." You shrug, fiddling with the hem of your dress and stretching your leg out, being careful as to not collide it with someone else's foot beneath the table.

"Just my luck," you settled on an answer and took a sip from your wine glass which desperately needed refilling if you wanted to let the thoughts of your damned knee waft out of your mind.

As if on cue, the waiter who was serving your group tonight popped open and poured a few inches of content from a fresh bottle into your glass. You refrained from asking him to hand you the entire thing. Once he'd began tending to someone else, you spared no moment in taking another sip, though this one was much longer than the previous one.

It didn't slip your notice how Lance leaned in, his words laced with a faint concern.

"You do know alcohol slows your healing down." You only give him a side eye, your lips touching the rim of the glass. Maybe you paused for a brief moment to register what he'd told you, but it didn't matter because you resumed consumption of the liquid seconds later.

He chuckled, shaking his head. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something else but his eyebrows raised in attention as his head whisked to meet your brother.

"Try some of the sushi mate," he prodded hospitably, but Lance brought a hand to his stomach, "I'm not a fan of it. I'm sure it's been well-made but I've tried it a few times in the past."

"Ah." He paused before your mum cut in, she was dabbing her napkin to either side of her lips. "Y/N, you should've told us. I would've asked for something else to be made." You really wanted to roll your eyes, she definitely wouldn't have. In fact, had she known, she probably would've asked for just seafood to be made.

"No harm done." Lance smiled, seeing the impatience with your mom already bubbling up evidently on your face. "Do you cook?" Your mother didn't stop there though as she recaptured his attention.

"I do sometimes, yes." His response took you by surprise, you'd never pegged him as the cooking type. Yet, the revelation only added to his allure in your mind.

"What, tea and toast?" She covered with a laugh though you knew it was a subtle dig, it didn't seem to occur to the man besides you as he only breathily laughed with her, assuming lightheartedness but there was nothing lighthearted about her.

"He can make plenty of things." You added, injecting a touch of seriousness into the conversation. Lance's eyes briefly flickered towards you, his eyebrows furrowing in a slight downward motion.

"Oh?" She sounded surprised, he was quick in interjecting to downplay the sudden admittance. "Y/N's hyping me up," he smiled then continued, "um no a-a couple of things sure. Just practical stuff."

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, noting his growing nervousness as he struggled to comprehend the atmosphere surrounding the conversation. You could sense the tension in the air, a feeling that lingered.

Releasing a sigh, you made a conscious effort to ease the growing awkwardness, forcing a smile as you lifted your gaze once again. "A man of many talents," you commented, aiming to lighten the mood.

Lance smiled at your compliment, remaining modest as he nodded appreciatively in your direction. It was evident that he was grateful you didn't let your mother's remarks affect your mood.

...

A few of the guests were beginning to leave the dinner table, the party now beginning to bleed on to the dance floor. You were slouched in your chair, going through your Instagram when Lance stood up.

"Where you going?" You asked him, though soon to be regretting it when his smile widened. "To dance. And you're coming with me."

Your eyes widen in horror, "I don't- no. I-" He doesn't let you finish your sentence, already tugging your hand up as you slide your phone flat on to the dinner table.

"My knee." You say in a matter-of-fact tone but you know it's not nearly as bad as it was earlier, the compression doing wonders for it.

Lance sees right through your lies because his grip on your hand doesn't loosen, "I'll be careful." You quickly join the assumption that he wanted to dance with you, not just have you up there to lessen his own embarrassment.

"I-" He tuts, "come on."

"Go have fun Y/N. It's not like this opportunity'll come 'round again." Your aunt wags her eyebrows suggestively, and Lance tilts his head towards her, wordlessly agreeing with the cheeky grin on his lips still very much prominent.

"You've definitely had more to drink than I have." He laughs, successfully helping you stand up and guiding you to the dance floor. He moved to the rhythm of the music, already grooving as he walked.

Suddenly, he tugged on your hand, causing you to turn towards him. Your eyes locked as his gaze swept over your body before returning to meet yours. With a playful smirk, he lifted your hand and drew you closer, his arm wrapping around your waist.

As the beat pulsated through the air, he began to shimmy his shoulders, a glint in his eyes. A smile adorned his lips when you instinctively started swaying your hips, matching his energy.

"I don't know where I belong, I don't know where I went wrong, but I can write a song," Lance sang along with the words, his voice as silky as butter. Oblivious to the effect he was having on you, he seamlessly continued on to the chorus, his energy contagious and captivating. You struggled to keep up with the whirlwind of feelings surging through your veins.

A genuine smile graced your lips as Lance playfully tried to engage you in the dance, guiding your arms and encouraging any movement. Laughter bubbles forth as he effortlessly twists you every which way. In the midst of the moment, the encounter with your mother fades into insignificance, and any lingering irritation dissipates.

You're overwhelmed with appreciation for the lengths your 'boyfriend' is willing to go to keep up an appearance.

Lance extends his arm, spinning you around before pulling you close, your bodies meeting. Your forearms align with his chest, and his hands firmly hold yours against his body as he continues to sing.

The lyrics escape his lips, "I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart," and in that moment, everything else fades away, leaving only the two of you entwined in a dance that feels like pure magic.

You're already breathing a little heavier after the song had ended, beads of sweat trickling down your forehead but the man who'd constantly been spinning and twirling you around looked effortlessly handsome still. The perks of being fit, you supposed.

"I love this song." You listened a little closer then laughed when Lance began singing again, but messed up the lyrics a little.

"It's a beautiful night, we're looking for something stu- dumb to do." The note way off-key meant you couldn't help but chuckle, finding his imperfection endearing. Your head naturally found its place nestled in the dip of his collarbone as he joined in with your laughter.

Moments later, you lifted your head, resuming the dance with him. Once the chorus had begun, he quickly found his rhythm, the music guiding his movements flawlessly.

As the DJ continued to spin songs perfectly suited for a lively and exuberant wedding reception, a few guests eventually broke off from the floor to take a break or grab another drink.

However, you and Lance showed no signs of faltering. Fuelled by the atmosphere, you both remained in sync, undeterred by the fact that it'd been a while you'd been dancing. The music seemed to invigorate you, carrying you both through the night as you danced with unwavering enthusiasm, creating sparks of energy and joy on the dance floor.

As you settle onto a stool by the bar, your now sister-in-law taps you on the shoulder, holding a drink filled with clear liquid in her hand. Leaning down to ensure you hear her, she whispers, "you guys look great together."

Despite mustering a smile, a sour feeling comes over you. On one hand, it feels amazing that you and Lance have managed to convince everyone of your relationship, but you know it's not real. Your feelings for him are genuine, but he remains your colleague and friend — nothing more.

"I don't know how much it means coming from me, but he seems like a really good guy." You look up to meet her gaze, she tugs her dress closer to her legs to sit on the stool opposite you. "Can you tell my mom that?" She smiles, remaining cautious but you understood why. That is her mother-in-law now.

"I don't get the ex thing. The way you look at Lance, I don't know, you never looked at Thomas that way." She leans in to add convincingly, she was only dating your brother during the brief time you were seeing your ex, but the fact that she sees right through you makes you wonder just how obvious your attraction really is. To Lance especially.

You smile appreciatively nevertheless, at least someone's in your corner.

When you feel a presence come up behind you, you don't hold back a grimace when Thomas steps forward. You mouth 'save yourself' to your sister-in-law who chuckles, giving you a small hug before being whisked away by your brother, her husband, as he invites her to dance.

He takes her spot on the stool and you move to get up but he grabs your arm, "five minutes." You shrug his grip off of you and sit back down, pushing your stool a little back to maintain some distance. "Two."

"You're not serious about the F1 bloke, are ya?" You sigh, wiping the tip of your nose with your thumb to catch the tiny drop of sweat.

"I don't have to explain my life choices to you but just so you know, yes, I am serious about him." You state as if it should be clear, although maybe it was. In another reality far from this one, nobody would bring their partner to a family wedding unless they were truly committed to them.

"I know he's not your boyfriend, Y/N," Tom stares at you intently as he finishes his sentence, clearly anticipating any change in your demeanor or facial expression, causing you to suppress any visible reaction. But you're quite certain that your internal organs momentarily ceased functioning.

"What're you on about?" You question him.

He scoffs, as if you're just prolonging the inevitable truth. "At best, he's a friend. There's no way that dude's your boyfriend." You want to ask him how he caught on but didn't know how to word it so you chuckle instead, albeit a little nervously.

"You're funny." You say bitterly but Tom shrugs, a smirk on his lips, oozing confidence and surety in what he was saying as if he was aware this wasn't alcohol talking but the facts he'd built up since this weekend began.

"Come on. The air mattress in your bedroom, obviously has been slept in. On top of that, I haven't even seen you kiss the guy, just hugs and hand holding. People manage that with their mates."

You're beginning to get angry and you wonder if the two minutes you'd allowed him had grown to pass, "perving on my bedroom are we?" You suggest disgustingly through gritted teeth and Tom rolls his eyes, knowing you were stalling to gather a possible answer.

"I went to the bathroom, door was wide open. It's not like you tried to hide it." The smugness in his voice made you want to slap him but out of the corner of your eye, you saw your sister-in-law tap Lance's arm and point in your direction. You hid the relief washing over you, and swallowed your words.

"I couldn't give a shit about how you feel about my relationship." The anxiousness settling into the pit of your stomach caused you to feel a little nauseous.

"Mm-hmm, 'relationship'," he says, using air quotes with his fingers as he takes his hand off of his glass, followed by a playful wink directed at you. The feeling of nausea grows stronger, but you distract yourself when Lance places his hand on the small of your back.

Without wasting another moment, Tom leaves when Lance glares at him, leaving the two of you alone. He immediately redirects his attention towards you, his gaze fixed, wordlessly asking if you're okay.

"He knows," your voice shakes as you meet his eyes.

"Who?" He asks.

"Tom. He - figured it out. He knows we're not dating, he knows about the extra mattress in my room, he knows." You find yourself repeating, your mind in a frenzy as you whisper whatever you recall of the situation to the man currently hovering over you.

Your eyes glance behind Lance's body as you watch your ex go over to Kevin, interesting him in a conversation that you have no doubt is about his recent discovery.

"He's going to tell my brother, he's going to tell everyone-" You cut yourself off when Lance pushes his hand into your back, forcing you to meet his eyes again. Though this is not the time for it, the contact causes somersaults to erupt in your body.

"No he's not. He's not going to do anything, don't let him fuck with you." He reassures you, advising you to try and forget the encounter but it's all that is playing on your mind. You can't have him unwrap this entire weekend like a present waiting to be opened and showcased to everyone.

"Come on, it's the slow dance." You huff, finding right now a pretty stupid time to join your date for a dance. He sensed your hesitation, pulling you up by the hand much like he did a while ago.

"Isn't now a good as time as ever to convince everyone we are in love?"

You think about his question for a while then realise he had a point, you nod and let him guide you back to the dance floor, in a crowd full of many other couples doing the same thing.

You interlock your fingers around his neck, his hands finding their rightful places on either sides of your waist. You both begin to sway and you can see Tom standing just off of the floor, his eyes obviously trained on you and the F1 driver.

Lance looks down into your eyes to break your concentration, there was a subtle softness in them that you knew you could only claim as your own.

"What if he does tell everyone?" You whisper to him but he only smiles, contrasting you massively. One thing that differed between you was the lack of anxiousness in him and the load of it inside of you.

"A mattress can easily be explained, and he has nothing to prove that we're not dating." You swallow, remembering the other point Tom made in the short conversation.

"H-he said we haven't-" Lance's eyebrows furrow as your speech falters so you decide to rephrase it. "We only hug and stuff, to him couples do more than that."

"And to you?" You meet his lingering gaze, "what?"

His eyes fall to overlook your expression before catching your stare again, "what do you think couples do?" You subtly shrug when Lance tugs you closer to him. "I-I don't know. Traditional couple stuff." You curve around the obvious answer and he chuckles, nodding his head.

His eyes flicker to your lips and you could swear your heart skipped a beat, or maybe multiple beats. Your heart was fluttering vigorously within your chest, its rhythmic pounding so intense that you wondered if Lance could hear it if he focused hard enough.

You gazed at him, momentarily lost in admiration without any specific thoughts occupying your mind.

He observed you attentively, analysing you with deep contemplation. There was obviously something playing about his mind, but you couldn't decipher it, he'd never been one to read easily. He tucked in his bottom lip.

No words were exchanged but your chest was conveying more than enough, just as Lance's was. His emotions seemed to be a mix of nervousness, anxiety, and perhaps even panic. He couldn't understand why, this would only be a justifiable favour.

His gaze again shifted from your eyes to your lips, and the agitation in your body reached such a level that you felt your ribs may explode from the sheer feeling pent up inside of you. Raw emotions surged, unearthing feelings that perhaps you hadn't been sure about before. They were springing to life, blooming ever so confidently.

But so were you, every new sensation coursing through your veins made you feel alive, but frightened you too. It was powerful, overwhelming and a sensation that had never quite been matched with previous boyfriends.

You noticed the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed, the rapid rise and fall of his chest. In response, you leaned in closer. You didn't want him to retreat from this proximity, despite the anxiousness gripping you.

You couldn't help but wonder the potential consequences that could arise. Any platonic friendship you'd built up until this point would be shattered. Lance sensed your distraction and squeezed your waist in response, "how's the knee doing?"

You sigh out an unsteady breath, "g-good." Your gaze was darting between his eyes, barely formulating a clear response to his question, obviously lacking confidence. You knew the song was only a couple of moments away from ending, though there was no countdown, everything felt perfect enough for it to happen now.

Your face began to warm up, "I-I'm not the only one who's having all these feelings, am I?" You asked ambiguously, half-fearing his response.

Lance knew exactly what you meant, it seemed a little inconclusive to make assumptions on such an open-ended question but the breathless look on your face and the glint in your eyes both served as hints.

"No," the ends of his lips curve slightly into a smile, only to serve as assurance that he wasn't answering for convenience but because he was telling the truth and he too was sick of having to hide it.

Lance moved maybe a centimetre or an inch closer to you, his proximity was so close that the tip of his nose brushed against yours, causing your eyelids to flutter. His hands slid slowly from either sides of your waist to your back, interlinking.

Your lips parted instinctively, your mind becoming clouded, and any trace of logic vanishing from your thoughts.

His bottom lip skimmed over your top one and you could've sworn your body had turned into jelly, you could feel him smile faintly before his mouth closed around yours. For a moment, neither you or Lance breathed.

Perhaps to give the other ample time to process this was really happening. A blush crept on to your cheeks, his lips began to move, enticing you to join him in an illusive dance.

You released a content sigh through your nose which only offered Lance more assurance, continuing to kiss you with eagerness you didn't know he had. You toyed with a few strands on the back of his head, gently tugging at his neck to urge him closer.

He hummed in response, happily complying with your unspoken command. You pulled away to catch your breath, he allowed you to step impossibly closer to him as people began curving you to go back to their seats as the next song began.

You took the minute you had to appreciate just how good he looked, his eyes light, his lips pink, and his fair skin glowing even under the DJ's overhead spotlights.

You met his lips again, remaining there for a few seconds before he moved against them, kissing you a few times. "God, you're amazing." He whispered when you detached for the final time, blushing but making no effort to conceal it anymore.

...

Part 7

Masterlist

Two more parts to go!

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