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𝐀 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 [𝐋𝐒𝟏𝟖] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟓

photo credits: Pinterest

Pairing: Lance Stroll × Fem!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled, mumbling a small "okay."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good mornin'", you returned his greeting.

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

Part 6

Masterlist

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

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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

so true lmao

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

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

maxiel my beloved

DTS 6x10

these photos are 😚🤌 chef’s kiss fr

essere ferrari © vittoria vanigli

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.

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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.

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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)

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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.

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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!