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𝐀 𝐃𝐮𝐥𝐜𝐞𝐭 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 [𝐂𝐋𝟏𝟔]

gif credits: @leqclerc

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Charles have a few weeks to yourselves before Baku, it’s Friday and you go to pull him off of the simulator when you instead see him playing the piano.

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, that’s about it also I know nothing about the wonderful ways of playing a piano so any information I add I found off of Google :)

A/N: Also Charles posting his music on Spotify, DUDE I AM IN LOVE AND I AM NOT MAD ABOUT IT

Word Count: 0.8k (3 mins reading time avg)

…

You covered the pot of pasta you’d prepared for yourself and Charles, hoping it wouldn’t get too cold by the time you were able to pull your boyfriend off of the simulator.

He’d been focused on that thing for nearly two hours now, while you knew better than to interrupt him, you also knew the importance of having a break from the screen and breaking a cycle of lap after lap after lap.

You called out his name but when you heard no response, you set the two empty plates on the counter above some napkins and took it upon yourself to locate him in the apartment.

When you pushed open the door to the room he’d set up his simulator and all of his equipment, your eyebrows hitched together when it was empty of a living human.

“Charles?” You repeated, shutting the door behind you. You checked the bedroom, knocked on the bathroom door, even checked the dining room again in case he was waiting for you in there but he wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

His car was still parked outside so you knew he couldn’t have left, so abruptly too.

Your head cocked to the left when you swore you heard a faint melody playing from somewhere in the apartment, following the sweet tunes of the piano, you twisted the doorknob to the room beneath the stairs, only creaking the door open slightly to get a peek.

The setting sunlight beamed generously through the large window, overlooking the landscape of Monaco, the piano was pushed up against the wall and the bench was pulled out.

The Monegasque however, gently pressed on the keys from either ends of the piano, generating a euphonious rhythm that you could only lose yourself in. It was a rhythm of sorts that you’d hear in a movie or in the title sequence to a music video.

You sighed, feeling a familiar softness settle into the pit of your stomach as you watched his back muscles move in unison to his fingers, his neck turning ever so slightly to have an idea of what key he wanted to press next.

You stepped into the room, trying to be as careful as you could so your boyfriend wouldn’t get startled.

When he was only a few inches away, you rested the palms of your hands on his shoulders, slowly making your way around his neck and intertwining your fingers in line with his collarbone.

His body tensed in response to your cold fingertips but they eased soon after, a grin already finding its way on to his pink lips. Charles’ movements on the piano halted and he turned his head to the side, his hands grasping your wrists gently.

“Don’t stop ‘cause of me.” He hummed, “come on. Sit down.” Your eyebrows furrowed and you hesitated in doing so but unlocked your fingers, he shuffled down on the bench and you sat besides him.

“Do I get to watch you play, Mr Leclerc?” He smiled this time, turning his head to meet your eyes and squinted, knowing that a boyish comment was ready to fall from his lips.

“You have to pay first, mon cœur.” You scoffed, “pay? I usually get private viewings for free.” You dropped a not so subtle hint, but you knew Charles understood with the subtle rosy tint that was building up on his cheeks.

“You tease me too much.” The F1 driver smiled. You shrugged, dropping your head on to your boyfriend’s shoulder and fiddled with the string that was poking out freely from his sweatpants.

“Yes, I tease you too much and I pay you too little.” You continued.

“Exactly.” You chuckled, pressing a kiss to his skin when Charles reached for your hand and placed it on to the piano.

“I’m hopeless at this stuff.” You picked your head up as your boyfriend positioned his fingers on to the keys on his side.

“So was I, mon amour.”

He instructed you to delicately hold down the keys he pointed out in his notebook while he fiddled with his own. You did exactly that though it took you a while to find the right balance and get the timing right.

After a few trial runs, you pressed the first set of keys and held them for a few seconds before moving your fingers down to the next two, Charles was playing effortlessly besides you but never failed to send you a wink when you praised his or your own efforts with a gleaming smile.

“See? You’re a natural.” Your boyfriend complimented when he closed out the piece and you plopped your hand back into your lap.

“Yeah, soon enough I’ll be asking you to pay me for private viewings.” You poked fun at him and he bumped your shoulder with his, shaking his head with a grin.

…

Masterlist

if you’re like me and you only watch f1 for free, here are some free sites you can watch it live at:

sportshub.stream - this is my personal favorite

totalsportek.pro

sportsurge.club

thehomesport.net

weakstream.org

there are also free apps you can watch it in:

Live player

strym tv - you need a code to watch in this app so you just press the + sign on the upper left corner, choose “Import playlist from URL” and paste this url http: //movitv. pro just remove the spaces

all of these have ads and if you have access to VPN, you might want to use it but i’ve tried all these links and app last season and hadn’t gotten a virus.

maxiel my beloved

DTS 6x10

𝐀 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 [𝐋𝐒𝟏𝟖] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟕

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: exes ugh, lots of fluff, lotta kissing, some angst but more towards the end, cliffhanger cause ik y'all hate me already :D brief mentions of alcohol, please tell me if I have missed anything!!

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

…

"Well played," Thomas slid past you with a remark as you stood amongst a group of relatives who were mostly conversing between themselves.

You turned your head to acknowledge him, obviously knowing he was referring to the kiss he'd seen you and Lance share earlier.

As the memory resurfaced, you couldn't help but suppress a smile while recalling it.

Subconsciously, your finger gravitated towards your lips, etching into your mind the unforgettable sensation of his lips melding seamlessly with yours, akin to the completion of a long-lost puzzle.

Maybe you began to daydream a little, staring at the hardwood floor when your aunt shook your shoulder. "I called you twice, had too much to drink?" She asked, though smiling through the question.

"Sorry Aunt Mel, what did you need?" She waved you off, "nothing. Your boyfriend's looking for you, dear."

"My boy… oh my boyfriend. Um, where is he?" you stammered, your aunt studying your face with a hint of suspicion, as if contemplating the extent of your alcohol consumption tonight.

"Last I saw him, he was by the chocolate fountain. You need me to go with you?" You shook your head despite the fact it wasn't very convincing, handing her your empty wine glass and wandering off.

Maybe you were rubbing your head or the nape of your neck when you spotted a familiar tall man with a tucked in shirt.

You reached for his arm but pulled away at the last second when you realised it was somebody else. "Sorry Unc-"

Before you allowed yourself to finish the sentence, you whisked around when you felt someone's presence right on your back. They steadied you with their hands on your arms, but a warm smile encompassed your lips when you realised who it was.

"018!" You exclaimed excitedly.

He scoffed, it was a running joke between his team that the 018 number would be used when Lance was either running late or wasn't anywhere to be found minutes before an important event, which had happened a few times too many.

When he eventually showed up, usually his team of mechanics which now had extended to any personnel who so happened to be present either by accident or not, would shout it out.

He never knew the backstory to it, just always played along, dishing out a few quick slaps on his engineers' arms before running off to fulfil his contractual obligations.

"Oh so now you know about that too?" He questioned, his hands sliding down your arms to meet your hands.

You tilted your head, reducing your otherwise beaming smile to an innocent one. You glance down at your intertwining hands before responding.

"Well, it's hard not to when the entire garage shouts it out for the whole paddock to hear." You explained.

"Is that so?" You nod curtly, biting back a laugh. He leaned forward and you decide to help him out, tip-toeing to meet his lips in the middle.

His right hand gently rests on your jawline. When you broke away, you rested both of your hands on his chest.

"Technically, we have a whole weekend to make up for. You know, for the sake of acting." He says, a subtle thrill in his voice like a whisper of excitement, one barely perceptible but undeniably present.

You hum agreeingly, tucking your bottom lip in between your two rows of teeth.

...

"Okay, that is so not what happened!" You burst into laughter as Daisy makes a genuine attempt to swat your cousin's head, playfully aiming to embarrass her with his exaggerated rendition of a story that your sister insists is nowhere near the truth.

"Why do we believe anything Dais says, you said you were giving up sugar three weeks ago and today the only thing I saw you cosying up to was the dessert stand."

Your dad nearly choked on his water just as everyone laughed again, recalling the heartfelt speech your sister gave about the perils of unhealthy eating.

While you obviously agreed with her message, the notion of practicing what you preach was never one of her exemplary mottos and this was one example of many.

"Okay, leave me alone! I held that up for a whole week and then I got my period so was it really my fault?" You smiled, shaking your head.

After some time, you decided to retreat from the living room as the various relatives who had gathered after the wedding started to head home.

With a sense of anticipation for your leave tomorrow evening, you bid them your goodbyes, realising that you wouldn't have another chance to see them before your departure.

You guess Lance was being your moral support with an occasional squeeze on the shoulder. The formality of goodbyes always stirred up emotions within you, especially when the uncertainty of the next meeting loomed large.

You made an internal vow to meet with them again over the summer, just as you had promised yourself in previous years. Yet, deep down, you couldn't ignore the fact that those plans often fell short of their intended course.

"You okay?" Lance asked, concern lacing his words. You gave a nod in response, avoiding his gaze and discreetly pressing your finger to the inner corner of your eye, collecting the tear that lingered, on the verge of spilling over.

After you bid goodnight to your parents, you and Lance finally retreated into your bedroom for the final time this weekend.

You flicked the light switch on as the F1 driver removed the tie hanging around his neck, having undone it the moment you left the venue anyway.

You picked at your false lashes, already feeling the weight on your eyes lighten a little when you simultaneously peeled them off and stuck them back on to their packaging.

Maybe half an hour had passed when you'd wrapped up your time in the bathroom, relieved to change out of your dress and remove the makeup that had adorned your face.

Despite not consuming much alcohol tonight, you had an inkling that tomorrow morning would greet you with a headache, or at the very least, some discomfort.

As you entered the room, you noticed Lance sitting on the air mattress, perceiving your hesitance upon seeing him there. He looked devilishly handsome even after a full night of dancing, drinking and socialising. You wanted to despise him for it, but how could you despise someone so perfect?

"What?" he inquired, breaking your momentary trance as you snapped back into reality and proceeded to hang your dress behind the door.

"Nothing," you replied, the sound of the door clicking shut marked your decision to face him. Though you attempted to dismiss the notion, Lance wasn't willing to let it go so easily.

With a faint but lopsided smile, he spoke up, "You gave me a look." You rolled your eyes, briefly glancing at the time displayed on your phone before reaching down to plug it into the charging cable.

“No. I didn’t.” You persisted.

"You tryna gaslight me right now?" You scoff, turning your head to see him beginning to stand up, you tried to ignore the rush of beats in your chest but it was his fault he had that stupid mischievous glint in his eyes.

"I'm not. I didn't give you a look. It's been a long day." You tore your eyes away from him.

"Has it?" You could sense he was moving closer but you didn’t dare look, trying to occupy yourself with the items scattered messily on your nightstand from the rush of leaving this morning.

“See, now you’re not looking at me.” You sigh unsteadily, finding his teasing intolerable for someone so attractive.

“Maybe I don’t want to look at you.” You turn your head in his general direction, emphasising your point but Lance only chuckled.

A momentary silence enveloped the room, and remnants of the wedding flooded your mind. You vividly recalled the instance when you found him near the chocolate fountain, guided by your Aunt Mel's directions.

Before, his chest only loomed behind you, but now you were certain that he was intentionally getting that much closer.

The palms of his hands feathered over your shoulders before pressing into them. His touch sent a surge of electricity through your entire being, awakening every nerve ending as if it were a cascade of fireworks illuminating the sky.

His voice barely above a whisper, emerged rather as a raspy murmur, "You don't want to look at me?"

“Maybe,” you reply, your head spinning as you attempt to make sense of his hands caressing your shoulders for any reason other than the one your heart was about to burst out of your chest for. Your fingers fiddled with the medication packet in an attempt to distract yourself.

“You sure?” You’re rendered speechless, his pelvis brushing against you. One of his hands remain atop of your shoulder, but you can feel every little tap, every little rub against your arm when he slides his other downwards.

It brushes against the fabric of your pajamas before finding its place, squeezing somewhere between the curve in your waist and your hip.

Perhaps you were being irrational or imagining a scenario beyond the realm of possibility, even in your wildest dreams. So when you start to turn towards him, Lance had already accepted your response.

Practically speeding up the process and turning you so you were facing him completely, he guides his other hand directly parallel to the other and uses the force he has over you physically, and the one you were allowing him from sheer vulnerability, to rotate your bodies.

You had your back turned towards the bed, feeling his hands firmly planted on either side of you, the intense contact driving you to the brink, yet you refused to lose yourself. You fought hard to remain grounded in the present moment, even when his head lowered to capture your lips in a kiss.

The cloud of uncertainty between you two dissipates, as if a wall had crumbled, giving way to an intense desire. Lance boldly encroaches on your personal space while you glide your hands up his chest and around his neck. With a firm press, his body collides with yours, causing both of you to stumble backward.

You find yourself collapsing onto the bed, and Lance positions himself on top of you, his body weight supported by his arm next to your head. With tenderness, you raise your hands to his face and gently cradle his cheeks in your palms, engaging him in a kiss.

The unraveling of his self-control is captivating as his hands glide over your neck, waist, and thigh with a benign caress. The kiss is fiery, possessing a rawness that contrasts with the smoothness of his lips.

As Lance's mouth leaves yours, planting softer kisses on your neck, a sharp pain shoots through your knee. You make an effort to conceal the burning sensation, but your body tenses involuntarily. His lips detach from your skin, his attention now focused on your discomfort.

“M’sorry.” You breathe out, frustrated and shut your eyes in annoyance.

"It's okay. Your knee?" Lance's concerned voice reaches your ears, and you give a single nod in response. The warmth of his body against yours lessens as he readjusts his position. Turning your head towards him, you can't help but wonder what's unfolding in his mind.

Lance exhales deeply as he pushes himself up and away from your body, running a hand through his hair. "Must've been from all that dancing," he remarks. You manage a weak chuckle, he was probably right.

You raise a hand to your forehead, realising you haven't experienced such feelings coursing through your body like this in years. The expectancy, nerves, and excitement intertwine, building up to a breaking point, like a taut spring ready to release its tension.. or snap in half.

Thoughts of self-doubt creep into your mind, wondering how pathetic and weak he might perceive you to be. As you withdraw your hand from your forehead, you notice him rising to his feet.

"Lance," you instinctively call out, though unsure of what you want to say next. Sitting up, you lock eyes with him, but a sudden pause overtakes you. Your lips part slightly, as if hoping it'll hasten your currently blank thought process.

“Yeah?” He prods you on further, but all that can leave your mouth is, “thank you.”

“For uh for this weekend. I guess you did really well.” He laughs, nodding his head.

As he makes his way around the bed to return to his air mattress, you reach up to the side of your neck where Lance left a particularly distinct kiss. Your fingers delicately graze over the tender patch of skin, feeling a lingering warmth.

Without another moment's notice, Lance switches off the light, plunging the room into darkness. A pang of sadness wells up in your chest, if only you had concealed your pain instead of openly admitting to it.

After a few minutes of silence, you lift yourself up to rest against your pillow, wincing slightly at the discomfort in your joint. Lifting the blanket, you slide beneath it, crossing your arms underneath the cover to try and warm yourself.

You search for something else to say, hesitant to fall asleep on these terms. The bed dips on the other side and you can't help but wonder what he might do next, or if he'll do anything at all. The uncertainty hangs in the air, intensifying the uneasiness inside of you.

For a brief moment, you feel a tinge of disappointment but it quickly fades when his hand slides under your top, traversing over your stomach, drawing him closer to you.

In a pleasant surprise, you turn your body to face him, and a smile spreads across your face when you catch the familiar glint in his eyes.

“You need to get it checked out,” he advises.

“I will,” you reply, sliding a touch closer to him.

Lance’s hand glides along the ridge in your hip, before moving to rest on your thigh. He presses his lips against the line where your scalp meets your forehead as you tuck your head in between the curve of his jaw and neck.

"Back home tomorrow," he whispers, and a bittersweet feeling settles in your stomach. It's ironic how, at the beginning, you wished for this weekend to be over, but now, almost 72 hours later, you find yourself yearning for the opposite.

His warmth comforts you the best it can, and you hum to assure him that you heard what he said. As the tiredness from the day weighs on you, sleep gradually takes over, and you find yourself succumbing to its embrace in the safety of his arms.

…

Your brows pull inwards when you awaken to the sound of a loud knock on your door. Lance isn't beside you, and you assume he must've already left to grab his morning coffee, considerately letting you sleep in.

"What?" you mumble, your words partially muffled by the pillow mushed into half of your face.

Your sister opens it, brushing her hair with one hand and the other waving you up. Like that was sufficient enough motivation to make you want to leave your bed.

“Dad's treating us all to this breakfast place ‘cause you’re leaving today so.. you’ve got 10 minutes to get ready.” You groan but have no option to argue when Daisy’s already gone by the time you blink both of your eyes open.

You feel like shit and you definitely look like shit when you force yourself to get up and out of bed, usually that takes you 10 minutes alone so you mentally applaud yourself for doing it so quickly.

You hurry downstairs once you’ve completed the tasks compiled from basic human hygiene, meeting only Lance in the kitchen, leaned against the counter with phone in hand.

“Where is everyone?” He looks up, rather obviously checks you out then meets your eyes with a bright smile.

Your chest warms, and maybe your face tints red a little, but you smile back at him. “They went ahead, said to meet them there.”

You hum, “I always wondered where I got my impatience from.” He chuckles as he slides past you, letting you pull your flats on before opening the door.

As soon as you catch sight of Tom across the way, a perplexed expression washes over you, causing a brief blink and a subtle parting of your lips.

“Y/N,” he looks past Lance and the F1 driver looks back at you puzzled, wondering if this was a planned meet-up. The bewilderment on your face answers the question for him.

“You need to go,” you say before the man in front of you gets a chance to.

“I just want to talk,” Tom says, watching you desperately. “Come on.”

As Lance takes a step closer to him, you swallow sceptically. You were aware that his tolerance for your ex had been dwindling throughout the entire weekend, but now wasn't the opportune moment to witness him reach his breaking point.

"What the hell do you want to talk about now?" you ask, your voice unsteady.

Tom again looks around him to meet your eyes, “five minutes of your time is too much?”

“I think it’s time for you to go,” Lance says warningly. You reach for his hand to tug him backwards which you succeed in, though not without a questionable look.

With a firm tone, you remind him, "you had your five minutes at the wedding." Despite your reminder, Tom takes a step closer, maintaining a cautious distance to avoid provoking the man fixed between the two of you.

Insisting fervently, he presses on, "you're going to want to hear this. I promise." The desperation in his eyes becomes apparent, and you hate that the urge to hear him suddenly overcomes you. Being your ex meant he was still masterfully able to draw you in somehow.

“Wait by the gate,” he nods at your instruction and you turn your body to meet Lance’s. “Just get the car started?”

"You've gotta be kidding. Why are you still bothering with him?" Lance probes, searching your face for an explanation. With a sigh, you mentally admit your inability to provide a good enough answer.

“I’m just going to hear what he has to say. It doesn’t mean anything.” You rationalise, your eyes growing soft and Lance can’t help but understand where you’re coming from.

Maybe granting him the chance to express whatever he wanted to say is a debt you feel obliged to fulfil.

“I’ll wait in the car,” you mutter a thank you in return, watching as he creaks the door open to walk through it.

He glares at Tom as he walks past, bordering on a push, and unlocks the car. He settles into the driver's seat and your ex waits for you where you told him to.

With a heavy sigh, you approach him, his face still adorned with a palpable sense of desperation that shows no signs of fading.

“What is it?”

…

Part 8

Masterlist

I am posting this at 4:47am in the morning :') The writer's block is REAL!! Thank you so much for your patience, I love you so so much! One part left :(

Taglist: @fantasticbouquetwitchsthings @topguncultleader @spicyclover @amirahart @softiecaro @alilstressyandlotdepressy @eugene-emt-roe @e-lisa-bettan @strolleclercs @jjsprobablywrong @carmelita-holland @flowerchild-96 @honethatty12 @gaslysainz @pierre-gasssllyy @lestappenloverr @chiliwhore @mentallyunstablebish @mcmuppet @xscorpioxmoon @ferrariloverr @rivivie @starkeyellow @vanillascreams @tororossoseb-blog @hiphopdancer101universe @hc-dutch @chonkybonky @natasharomanoffisbaebby @little-angel-07 @lxnceclercs @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @hockey-racing-fubol @honeyric3 @purplephantomwolf @mindflay3r @ttzjune @xitsyaiizax @dylylylylyly @rd14 @secretlyangrymagazine @love4lando @vildetry-06 @sharllec @aundercover @mloyer @alesainz @cinnamonroll2003 @nikki01234 @junhuilvrrr @f1-hyperfixation

𝐀 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 [𝐋𝐒𝟏𝟖] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

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, friends to lovers, one bed trope oop

A/N: Thank you all so much for the love on the first chapter, you guys are incredible :') Here's Part 1 if you haven't read it yet or want a recap!

Word Count: 2.1k (8 minutes reading time avg)

…

"Your Dad, your sister, your brother, they're great." You didn't add anything on to Lance's sentence, heading out of the venue your brother had extravangantly booked for a rehearsal dinner.

Being a lawyer marrying a real estate agent must have its perks.

"Your mum is.. certainly a character." You scoffed, knowing he probably had no intention of clearing up what he meant, assuming you'd understand what he was trying to say.

The sun had barely begun setting, the weather was cooler, and your home wasn't that much of a walk so somewhere between the few minutes it took for you both to leave the venue and reach the corner of the street, you decided walking would be the best option.

Lance just inattentively followed you, knowing you were his only navigation system.

He took a few brisk steps to catch up with your pace, the only comfort offered to you that you'd accept after a long day would be under the covers of your bed.

"In a rush?" You exhaled through your mouth, watching the puff of air escape from your lips.

"No, just want this day to end." You felt bitter about how your mother was acting, ignoring Lance then shooting you looks as if you were in the wrong was so typical of her.

Yet you were still surprised she'd go that low on such a celebratory occasion.

"You're.. chipper." The corner of your mouth twitched upwards and you mumbled a barely coherent word of confusion.

Lance laughed at your expression, "I heard one of your uncles say it, I like it."

You breathily laughed, shaking your head. "Trust me, no one says that anymore. My uncle uses slang he thinks would make him fit in. It doesn't."

He shrugs, stretching his arms outwards and only satisfied when he hears an expected 'pop' sound. "I think he's pretty cool."

Your lips curve into a smile, turning your head towards Lance who has a similar grin on his lips. "You should tell him that, he'll blush bright red."

You undo the latch to the front gate, pulling it wide open so the F1 driver can slide through, then you shut it behind him.

"Do you have a key?" Lance asks you, hopping up the final step of the patio. He extended your purse out to you in case it was in there but before you could answer his question, you paused.

"Why do you have my purse?" Trying to recall if you handed it to him but nothing sprung to mind.

"You left it on the table, I recognised it from this." He fiddled with the Aston Martin keyring Sebastian left the entire team as a parting gift in Abu Dhabi last year.

He brought it to your line of sight, proudly smiling.

You smiled back at him, "sharp eye Stroll."

"Thank you darling." That same look of confusion arose on your face again.

You looked away, your face warming slightly as you kicked the corner of the doormat to reveal a familiar key beneath it.

"Another one of my Uncle's terms of endearment?" He chuckled from behind you, the keyring making a faint clank sound as it hit the chain of your crossbody bag.

"Afraid so." You shook your head for the second time in this conversation, bending over to grasp the key between the pads of your index finger and thumb.

Slotting it into the hole, you pushed the door open and similarly to before, Lance easily maneuvered inside and past you.

He toed off his sneakers and picked them up with his two fingers hooked into the back.

You pulled open the drawer to the shoe rack, and he pushed them inside one of the empty spaces. You followed in his movements.

"Hungry? Thirsty?" He accompanied you to the kitchen. You flicked on the light switch and he went over to the kitchen island, leaning his elbows on the cold marble counter.

"Nah, I ate my weight in almonds already." He grinned, watching you pull out a jug from the fridge.

"Sucks having a rehearsal dinner with no dinner." You commented.

You poured yourself a glass of some freshly-squeezed apple juice. Your mum was always hellbent on having fresh everything when you were growing up, guess that habit still hadn't faded over time.

After a brief moment of chatter, you slung your bag around your neck, both you and Lance ascending the stairs to your bedroom.

As you pushed the door open and your hand searched for the light switch on the wall, you came to a sudden halt when the room was eventually illuminated.

Your heart sank to your stomach as you stared at the double bed in the center of your room.

He shut the door, wondering why you'd stopped moving all of a sudden before the realisation dawned on him and his words faltered halfway in his throat.

You glanced at him as his shoulder ghosted yours to stand besides you, his gaze met yours and both of you had a very similar look on your faces: the one that said 'this wasn't part of the deal'.

"Do you want me to open a window? It's a bit stuffy in here." He nonchalantly questioned.

You refrained from telling him that it wasn't stuffy because of the humidity, it was stuffy because there was an obvious elephant in the room that needed to be addressed.

You don't answer him, your mind in somewhat of a haze as you're trying to comprehend when the fuck two twin beds that you remember moving out from suddenly turned into one double bed.

"I'll open a window." Lance states, passing the inanimate bane of your existence to crack open one of the windows.

The idea of sharing a bed brought on a sudden discomfort, and without obvious reason. You'd shared beds with so many people before; friends, cousins, on sleepovers, girls' nights.

You dismiss the memories of physical contact earlier: Lance's hand resting on your thigh, fingers intertwined, and his touch on your back.

Consequently, you also disregarded the subsequent surge of butterflies in your stomach.

Those butterflies could have been easily set aside as mere surprise, and you also had no intention of experiencing them again. It took a considerable effort to convince the F1 driver to accompany you as your pretend date for a four-day weekend, so the thought of him ever entertaining any connection with you seemed entirely implausible.

Plus, you don't even like him like that.

Lance noticed you deeply lost in thought, biting the inside of his cheek.

"I can take the floor." Your eyes snap up to him stood on the other side of the room, leaned against the window pane.

Your eyes then flicker to the wooden flooring beneath your feet, shuddering while imagining how wildly uncomfortable that would be for a whole night, nevermind three nights.

"It's cold, and hard."

He shrugged, not caring much for his own discomfort. He reached over to grab his gym bag besides your suitcase, your parents had brought them in from your car this morning.

He unzipped the front pocket, fishing out his toothbrush.

"I dragged you out here so the least I can do is give you a bed to sleep in. I'll take the floor."

Lance hummed in disagreement, giving you a firm look. "Nope, not happening."

He pulled off his hoodie and dropped it on top of his gym bag, heading straight for the bathroom, already knowing where it was having had it shown to him before by your sister.

You took the time to change into your pajamas, digging through your open suitcase for your toiletry bag and simultaneously waiting for him to finish up in the bathroom.

After he had, he entered your bedroom once more and you found yourself staring at his bare arms, flexing with every little movement as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

The image of his muscles burned into your mind as you swiftly exited the room and set foot into the bathroom, locking it. You exhaled a shaky breath, taking out your toothbrush from your bag of skincare.

As you brushed your teeth then veered off into your skincare routine that followed, you only prayed that this weekend would go by quickly and smoothly. Something you'd been praying for since your brother had announced the dates of the ceremony.

After you finished up, you turned the light switch off and with a hesitant movement in your feet, you pushed open the bedroom door that hadn't been closed the entire way. Yet.

You saw Lance preparing to lie on the floor and told him to wait, hoping that if your parents hadn't been clearing out the remnants of your wardrobe as they had been with your bed, you'd find..

"Yes!" You exclaimed, tugging out the air mattress, keeping a hand on the tower of clothes you never took with you. Lance helped before laughing, you met his eyes as you lay the deflated cloud on your floor.

"Why do you have an air mattress in your room?" You blushed, "because of my sleepovers. I bought it spontaneously and look, now there's a purpose for it."

"Pump?" You whisked around again, now on your tiptoes as you tried to feel around the top of your wardrobe for a familiar cardboard box but ultimately failing because of your height, or lack thereof.

"Let me," Lance interrupted, extending his arm easily to the top. You looked down to the floor so your gaze wouldn't fixate on his bare bicep twice this evening, and eventually he lowered the box so it was within your grasp.

After pumping up the mattress, pulling on a fitted sheet and throwing him two of your pillows, you also threw him your thicker duvet.

Before he could complain, you stopped him. "I took the bed, you take the duvet. I've got a blanket." He gave in, sorting it out on his bed for the night, laying on his back after what felt like days.

You slipped into your blanket, resting your head on your pillow.

"Y/N?" You hum in return to his call of your name, turning your head to see him staring at the ceiling.

"The light's still on." You chuckled but before you could swing your legs over to the side, Lance was already up and going over to the far wall.

"Thanks." You add. He cautiously steps in darkness back over, careful as to not hit anything or hurt himself.

...

You wake up to find sunlight peaking through your windows, the cause of your slumber coming to its eventual end. But the man who fell asleep beneath the window isn't there, the blanket half falling off of the air mattress, the pillows tilted slightly.

Your eyebrows furrow when your eyes adjust to your room, but you also manage to half-remember that the blanket you were seeing on Lance's mattress was the one you'd fell asleep with a mere 8 hours ago.

The duvet you'd thrown at him now covering everything below your hips. You realised he must've swapped them at some point during the night when you were sound asleep.

After a few minutes, you sat up on your bed and left to brush your teeth, retying your hair into a low bun and splashing cold water over your face.

You skipped down the stairs, walking into the kitchen where most of the voices you were hearing were coming from, Lance's distinguishable accent being one of them.

"Morning sleepy," you smiled at him as he turned away from you and to the coffee machine, looking around to see only your sister and one of your cousins who'd stayed the night meeting your tired gaze.

"Where's mum 'n dad?" Daisy shrugged, "out."

She turned her attention back to your cousin so you headed for Lance, who, with a freshly brewed cup of coffee in his hand, swung around to see you.

You groaned happily at the sight of it, excitedly taking it into your hands. Coffee cheered you up. Lance chuckled, noticing the genuine twinkle in your eyes when he extended the mug out to you.

"Thank you." He nodded, and after a short moment's of silence, you looked at him.

"Did you.. swap the duvet 'round?" You questioned quietly, making sure the others in the kitchen couldn't overhear.

He smiled, taking a swig of his coffee before answering.

"You were shivering." He didn't add on anything else and from the gesture alone, that damned flurry of butterlifes erupted out of their cages again in your stomach.

"Well, I appreciate it. I guess my body did too." You joked, Lance nudging your arm with his elbow, a grin on his lips.

...

Part 3

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

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