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𝐀 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 [𝐋𝐒𝟏𝟖] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑

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, mentions of exes and annoying ones ugh, slight angst??, alcohol but it isn't heavy on the topic, let me know if I'm missing any!

Word Count: 2.3k (8 mins reading time avg)

…

You push the inner corners of your false lashes, whispering a curse word when the left one sprung back up again though you'd spent over a minute holding it down.

"Come on, play nice." You murmur, repeating the movement.

You slowly removed your finger, as if any mere force of air would make it lift again.

You really didn't have the time to mess with it, already keeping one eye on the clock.

"Hey, you nearly done in here?" Lance entered, giving you a single glance as you leaned in closer to the vanity mirror.

You eyed your appearance one final time to make sure your makeup was blended, even and smooth.

"Yep, just finishing up. You gonna get changed?" You fanned your face after spritzing your face with setting spray, then stood up from the stool and pushed it in.

With a nod, he sifted through his suitcase, the crease between his furrowed eyebrows distinctly visible despite his downward gaze.

"Are you okay?" You asked, taking a step closer.

You watched Lance effortlessly pick up his open suitcase and place it on the bed.

"Yeah, I just can't.. seem to find.. my watch." He said between pauses, and your eyes fell to the bedside table where his watch was clearly staring right back at you.

Without a hint of laughter, you brushed past him, capturing the timepiece between your fingers.

As he frantically searched for it, oblivious to what you were doing, you turned towards him.

"This watch?" You asked, innocently enough, a slight smile adorning your lips.

His eyes shifted to your hand where you extended his personal belonging to him, and he shook his head.

"Why is it that girls always know where everything is?" He rhetorically asked, and you shrugged as the corner of his mouth curved upwards into a grateful grin.

"Just one of our many talents." You responded.

"And the lack of ours," you chuckled as his fingers brushed yours to take the watch.

Lance's eyes fixate intently on your face and you wonder if you'd overlooked something, unblended contour or way overlined lips but he didn't look like he wanted to point something out, rather seemed.. taken aback?

His lips part slightly and you smile, blushing under his unwavering focus.

"Earth to Lance?" He stumbles in his speech, abruptly swallowing his words before tearing his eyes away from you.

"Sorry 'bout that." You ignore the wave of disappointment that washes over you and tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, before sliding past him again.

"I'll leave you to get changed," you said, pivoting to offer him a brief nod and smile before making your way out of the room. Once the door was shut behind you, you let out a sigh.

"Y/N, I've ironed it." You smile at your mum who appeared out of the empty room, which once belonged to your brother.

You thank her as she headed downstairs, and you lock the door behind you as you get changed into the outfit you'd packed. Carefully pushing your head through the hole of your top as to not ruin your makeup went fairly successfully.

Maybe it was a touch extravagant for an early evening outing, but you hadn't packed much since you also hadn't anticipated your brother's fiancé's insistence on getting everyone together before the weekend's chaos ensued.

You eventually went downstairs to gather with everyone else, encountering a mix of readiness. You found one who was eager to leave, one who still needed to pee, and one who couldn't find her other heel.

Lance idly fiddled with the sleeves of his sweater, tugging them up a bit. He had always been particular about the unpleasantness caused by the cuffs rubbing against his wrists.

As he entered the lounge, he stumbled slightly when your sister swiftly pushed past him in a fleeting attempt to run upstairs.

In the midst of her hurried movements, she shouted a few incoherent words of instruction to a hapless relative who happened to be occupying the bathroom at a time that was inconvenient for her.

Instead of blending into a group of unfamiliar relatives he had yet to be formally introduced to, Lance leaned casually against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest.

His eyes roamed across the room, wondering what these people’s names could be, their background, their profession. He was merely amusing himself with a fictional concoction of reality.

You emerged from the midst of the group, your attention fixed on a cousin whom he had met previously. A bright smile on your lips, anticipation evident as you awaited their response.

In that moment, it felt as if time had slowed down.

Lance's face lit up with a smile as he observed your eyes growing wider in disbelief at something you were told but didn’t quite believe.

The smile lines from your lips to your nose became more pronounced as your grin stretched across your face.

Playfully, you leaned over and gave your cousin's arm a slap, causing your hair to cascade and partially obscure your laughing face, which was tilted downwards.

His gaze fell from your side profile to your body, fixating on the way your bodysuit, tucked into your leather pants, clung to your figure ever so snugly.

He knew if he were to touch you even once tonight, it would feel as though his hand was grazing your bare skin.

A thought that spurred on an erratic beat in his chest, a flutter in his fingers as he could only imagine it, but never truly feel it.

He brought the tip of his thumb up to his lips, perhaps to conceal the subtle upward twitch of his mouth's corners, deeply absorbed by.. well, you.

He really believed he was lucky, though this wasn’t real. This was a plan to fool your family and by Monday, it’d all be over.

"Lance right?" His eyes snapped to the approaching individual, meeting the man's hand in the middle, shaking it for a few seconds.

The F1 driver was slightly taller than him but not by much, his linen shirt and the sunglasses perched on his head didn't disguise the fact that they seemed similar in age.

"Yeah," Before he could ask any questions about him, he was quick to turn and point his chin towards you, still standing and conversing with your cousin.

"You're Y/N's boyfriend?" Lance gives a smile, nodding his head.

"That's me. I didn't catch your name?" He added rather quickly, before the opportunity to cut in again arose.

"Name's Thomas, but everyone calls me Tom." There was a hint of scrutiny in his eyes when Tom looked him over, something that was bound to make anyone feel uneasy.

Lance hardly knew the man and already felt like he wanted to conclude the conversation. Not because he was one to back down, but because he wasn't one to waste his breath.

...

You laughed as Daisy pointed accusingly at your brother, berating him for 'throwing her off' just as she was about to hit the winning putt in mini-golf.

He dismissed her rather effortlessly. Growing up, she was the most competitive one out of the three of you.

Lance seemed deep in his train of thought when you glanced at him, you leaned into the booth, the back of your head meeting his outstretched arm.

The contact drew him away from his reverie, and he met your gaze with a gentle expression.

"Hello stranger," You teased quietly.

"Stranger?" He questioned and you smiled, shrugging meekly.

"You haven't spoken much, you doing okay?" As he was about to answer, his eyes instinctively shifted from you to the man that was seated across the large booth, next to your brother.

Tom's eyes were trained on him, he'd been observing both of you since the evening had began.

"That um," He started and you watched him pick up his glass, take a sip from it then place it back down.

"That guy on the other side of the table," Lance's jaw ticked as he redirected his stare towards you again, diligently searching for the slightest hint of a change in your expression.

"White shirt, sunglasses." He sensed the urgency to comment on his appearance so you'd catch on, but he didn't know that you were already aware of who he was talking about.

He eyed you inquisitively, noticing your hand form into a fist on your lap.

"Old friend?" You peeled your gaze away from Lance to your lap, shaking your head.

You were wishing that he wouldn't even be mentioned tonight but since he'd made a reappearance, you realised you couldn't indefinitely confine your past to seclusion.

"Ex." You explained with a single word, practically feeling him tense then ease again besides you.

He retracted his arm from its previous position, no longer outstretched on the back of the booth.

You felt a pang of sadness in your chest; possibly from not letting Lance know, remembering he would be here tonight, or both.

"Small world." He commented, trying to think of what he could say next but really only one question springing to mind.

"Why is he here?" you grimaced, expressing your frustration.

You couldn't recall him ever having a particularly close relationship with any family member, making his presence tonight all the more irritating and confusing.

"I don't know." You breathed out, though being truthful.

"You never told me about him." Lance remarked, obviously referring to the bore speech you'd given him as preparation on most of the people from your hometown that he'd probably get acquainted with.

You'd failed to mention any of your exes, but it didn't cross his mind that you'd even have any exes whom of which were still close, enough to show up on a night out that was rather exclusive.

You gave him a pointed look, defenceless in this conversation. "He wasn't supposed to be here."

“Well, he is.” You rolled your eyes, terribly grateful for his rather obvious input.

He sensed that you'd rather drop the topic than continue talking about it so with a lopsided smile, he picked up his glass.

Lance stood up and glanced at your nearly empty glass, offering, "I'm going to get another drink. Do you want one?"

You respond with a subdued half-shrug, muttering a word of surety under your breath. Although you spoke softly, he managed to hear you.

He collected both glasses, left the booth and went over to the bar. As soon as your 'date' was out of sight, you allowed your gaze to wander around the room.

You can sense Tom's penetrating stare, but choose to ignore it, taking out your phone from your bag and navigating through various apps.

When Lance still hadn't returned after a few minutes of waiting, you decided to let him return and place the drinks down while you went to the bathroom to pee and touch up your makeup, not at the same time obviously.

As you exited the bathroom, hastily returning your pressed powder and lipstick to your purse, you were taken aback when you nearly collided with someone directly in front of you.

Prepared to apologise, you glanced up and locked eyes with the individual in question.

Letting out a sigh, you instinctively took a step back, creating a few feet of distance between yourselves.

"Y/N!" Tom bursted out, as if he was utterly surprised to see you despite being seated across the booth from you for a little over two hours now.

You blink back at him, hoping the ground would swallow you whole so this conversation wouldn't need to happen.

"Tom." You don't match his excitement in the slightest, on purpose.

Your eyes scanned the restaurant, desperately searching for any potential means of escape.

Your ex opens his arms, hoping for an embrace when you take another step back, holding out your hand.

"No. Look, we're not friends. I don't want to see you or even talk to you right now." You shut him down rather bluntly and he scoffs, scrutinising you with every speck of colour in his eyes.

"Oh come on, lighten up. I'm just being friendly." He replies, as if it was a valid excuse for his nonchalant behaviour.

You roll your eyes, ready to shoot back when Lance steps in between you both.

Your shoulders slump, feeling the tension bubbling in your body come to a slow decline.

You reach for his arm and he allows you to snake your wrist around his bicep. Tom smiles, rather forcefully.

"What's going on?" Lance asks.

"Friendly conversation." He states, deeming the F1 driver's presence an unneeded one with his words alone.

"Mm-hmm." You squeeze his arm, a poor attempt to throw a hint that you just wanted to be taken away from this conversation.

Lance nodded his head towards the man opposite you and remarked, "come to think of it, I've heard a lot about you, Tom."

His words caught your attention and you squeezed his arm again, a tad more firmly this time.

“Oh, really?” Tom lifts his eyebrows, shooting you a smirk.

"No," Lance replied in a flat tone, devoid of any enthusiasm.

Tom blinked, clearly a little shocked at his response. Lance pays him no further attention and rests his hand over yours, offering you a smile. "Care for a drink?"

"Please." His smile doesn't falter as he looks away from you and back up at the man who was now carrying a hostile look instead of a confused one.

"I'll see you 'round, Thomas." Lance says, pulling you away and allowing you to follow him back to the booth.

You slid back into your seat and scooted over to make space for the F1 driver. As he settled in, he casually outstretched his arm once again, placing it on the back of the booth and allowing it to drape over your far shoulder.

You leaned into his side, relieved he was playing his part perfectly.

...

Part 4

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

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

WHY HAVE I NEVER SEEN THESE?!???!!!

𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐑𝐮𝐧 [𝐌𝐕𝟏]

gif credits: @overtake

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Summary: Being caught in the rain without an umbrella isn't fun, but when you're with Max? Fuck it.

Warnings: literally fluff and a tad bit of argumentative banter?

Word Count: 1.1k words (4 mins reading time avg)

…

As you set your glass down, Max straightened in his chair. There was a restless energy radiating from him, a clear sign that he was ready to leave.

"Finished?" He inquired with a subtle hum, and you responded with a silent nod.

With grace, you retrieved your bag from the ground, rising from your seat and tucking the chair neatly back in place. The waiter, ever vigilant, collected your empty plates, and you extended your gratitude with a smile.

As you both made your way toward the exit, you acknowledged the doorman with a gracious thank you, and he obligingly held the door open for you.

However, the moment you stepped out but still shaded by the awning above, the heavens burst open, drenching the world with an unrelenting downpour.

Goosebumps instantly formed on your arms, and you shivered, the chill creeping down your body.

Max shoved his wallet back into his jacket pocket, his gaze shifting to meet your eyes as your head turned in his direction.

"M, the umbrella," you mentioned casually, expectant in your tone.

Max quirked an eyebrow. "What umbrella?" Your head swiveled entirely to face him, a glimmer of hope that his apparent confusion was part of a playful ruse.

"Very funny," you muttered, attempting a strained grin.

"What's funny?" Max inquired, genuinely perplexed by your reaction.

With an audible sigh of exasperation, you pointed skyward for emphasis. "Max, you do know what an umbrella is right?"

"Babe, I don't know what umbrella you're talking about." Max's bewilderment was written all over his furrowed brows and the slight tilt of his head, as if an invisible umbrella had eluded his understanding.

You replied as calmly as you could, "what do you mean? The umbrella, our umbrella." Unfortunately, the perplexed expression on your boyfriend's face remained unchanged, and another gust of harsh wind ruffled your body.

"I didn't bring our umbrella," Max confessed, his brows furrowing as he patted down his jacket pockets, searching for the missing item.

You crossed your arms, a mix of irritation and disappointment etched across your face. "I told you to bring the umbrella."

Max's shoulders slumped, and he withdrew his hand from his pocket, his expression reflecting regret. "No, you said you were bringing the umbrella."

Your frustration gave way to a puzzled expression as you uncrossed your arms, "I said to bring the umbrella, not that I was bringing the umbrella."

There was a brief pause, during which Max's regretful expression slowly transformed into one of realisation. He replayed the conversation in his mind and finally spoke up.

"Oh, you did say that, didn't you?" He admitted with a sheepish grin, his hand absentmindedly rubbing his neck.

"Yeah," you replied with a sigh, deciding that there was no use in getting mad now.

Max took a step closer, draping his arm around your shoulder, and you couldn't help but smile at the small gesture of warmth it gave.

"We could get a taxi," you looked up at his suggestion and scoffed. "The apartment's literally down the road."

Looking around, you pursed your lips. "We can wait here for a bit, maybe the rain will let up."

Max nodded, and you leaned your head on his shoulder as he sqeezed his arm tighter around your body. But after a few minutes of waiting, the rain showed no signs of stopping, so you both exchanged a resigned look.

Max's lips curled into a grin as his hold on you loosened, pulling his jacket off of his arms and resting it on your shoulders.

"You know what, babe? Fuck it. Let's make a run for it."

You raised an eyebrow, amused by his sudden enthusiasm. "Are you insane?" Max wasn't one to refrain from sharing his weird and wonderful thoughts but this one kinda had you thinking a few screws had loosened.

His expression remained determined. "Come on. We can't stay here forever."

His proposal filled you with a mix of excitement and trepidation, but you'd be lying if you said he didn't have a point.

"Fine, but if I go down, I'm taking you with me." He smiled and extended his hand out to you.

"Deal." You chuckled, shaking his hand before he intertwined them together. As you both left the relative shelter of the awning, the relentless downpour immediately drenched you to the bone.

Your footsteps echoed through the empty, rain-slicked streets, a symphony of splashing and laughter in the otherwise silent night.

Max held your hand firmly, not letting go for a second, as if the strength of his grip could keep you both upright on the slippery pavement. His shirt stuck to his frame, and water streamed from the ends of his tousled hair.

Your clothes were heavy and clinging to your skin. Your laughter, mingling with Max's along with some curse words, echoed through the empty streets as you both raced toward your apartment complex.

By the time you reached the entrance of your apartment complex, Max pulled open the door and shut it quickly behind you.

Your hearts were racing, and you were both completely soaked. Water dripped from your hair, and you could feel it running down your skin.

Max let go of your hand, standing in the lobby of the building, panting and dripping wet. "Well, that was fun," Max said with a grin, his eyes light as he messed with his hair.

You couldn't help but smile back, your heart still pounding with exhilaration. “Yeah, fun."

With a shared chuckle, you both headed for the elevator, leaving a trail of raindrops behind you which the cleaner would probably resent you for in the morning.

He pressed the button for your floor, and the doors shut. The confined space felt cosy and intimate, and you couldn't help but meet Max's gaze with a knowing smile.

He brushed a strand of wet hair from your face, his touch gentle and tender, despite the fact that both of you were absolutely soaking.

His grin widened as you shivered, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a slow, lingering kiss. The taste of rainwater on your lips was sweet and refreshing, you smiled as he pulled away.

He didn't move far though, "you know," his whispering voice a little husky, "we should probably get out of these wet clothes."

You met his suggestion with a glint in your eyes. "You think? And whose idea was it to go running in the rain, hmm?"

Max laughed, a deep and hearty sound that filled the elevator. "Alright, alright, it was a team decision."

You hummed and he leaned in again, kissing you a couple more times as the elevator made its ascent.

When it finally reached your floor, you reluctantly pulled away from your boyfriend, knowing that you needed to get out and change into dry clothes.

"Next time, bring the umbrella please," you said, your smile lingering.

Max's eyes sparkled with mischief as he responded, "After that? I'm never bringing it again."

...

Masterlist

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 :(

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