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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

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

𝐟𝟏𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬' 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

WELCOME to my page, I actually created this Tumblr account 3 years ago and never used it, I recently found it but rather than deleting it, I figured I’d ‘recycle’ it and just use it as a page dedicated to fanfics.

REQUESTS are open and you may submit your own asks but read below to see what I write, don’t write and also what I do not tolerate on my page. I only write for a specific set of people, again, read below to see who they are. Suspense lol.

…

Rules for Requests

My content will NOT cover topics such as smut, sexual assault, incest, violence, abuse, disabilities, or self-harm. I also avoid including any suggestive references to blood or weapon fetishes in my work.

I ALSO don’t write driver x driver or footballer x footballer, and not many works, if any at all, will take a male readers’ perspective.

…

The drivers I write for currently are: Max Verstappen, Lewis Hamilton, Oscar Piastri, Mick Schumacher, Charles Leclerc, and Alex Albon.

The footballers I write for currently are: Trent Alexander-Arnold, Jude Bellingham, and Declan Rice. (Such a variety ik)

…

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚 𝟏

Charles Leclerc:

- A Dulcet Evening ~ 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.

Lance Stroll:

- A Weekend or Two: Completed

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.

• Part 1

• Part 2

• Part 3

• Part 4

• Part 5

• Part 6

• Part 7

• Part 8

Oscar Piastri:

- My Muse ~ Oscar is a visitor at your first art exhibition - not exactly his scene - but it’s one that he contributed to financially to help you out, an upcoming artist he’s taken a bit of a liking to.

Max Verstappen:

- Rain Now Run ~ Being caught in the rain without an umbrella isn’t fun, but when you’re with Max? Fuck it.

- Expanding Our Horizons ~ Seeing your boyfriend play with his nephews stirs emotions inside of you. While it may be the first time you and Max have acknowledged it, it may also be the last.

…

𝐅𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥

Trent Alexander-Arnold:

- Little White Lies SMAU ~ You’re a tease, asking for things you supposedly already have. Trent catches on... eventually.

- Breaking Barriers: Ongoing

Summary: Arne, in hopes to focus on his team’s mental health as much as their physical, recruits a younger but just as educated psychologist to work one-to-one with the more reserved players. Trent is one of them.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Jude Bellingham:

~ Coming soon!

these photos are 😚🤌 chef’s kiss fr

essere ferrari © vittoria vanigli

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 𝟔

photo credits: Pinterest

Pairing: Lance Stroll × Fem!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who?" He asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

Part 7

Masterlist

Two more parts to go!

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