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

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

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

sportshub.stream - this is my personal favorite

totalsportek.pro

sportsurge.club

thehomesport.net

weakstream.org

there are also free apps you can watch it in:

Live player

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

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

so true lmao

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

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

𝐀 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 [𝐋𝐒𝟏𝟖] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟕

photo credits: Pinterest

Pairing: Lance Stroll x Fem!Reader

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"018!" You exclaimed excitedly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. I didn’t.” You persisted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?”

…

Part 8

Masterlist

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

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

𝐀 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 [𝐋𝐒𝟏𝟖] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

photo credits: Pinterest

Pairing: Lance Stroll x Fem!Reader

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

Warnings: fluff, friends to lovers, one bed trope oop

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's cold, and hard."

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

He unzipped the front pocket, fishing out his toothbrush.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

Part 3

Masterlist

Comment if you want to be tagged in the next part!

Taglist: @tororossoseb-blog @hiphopdancer101universe @hc-dutch @love4lando @chonkybonky @angstyeighteen @natasharomanoffisbaebby @little-angel-07 @voidskywxlker @flowerchild-96 @vildetry06 @sharllec @aundercover @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @spicyclover @mloyer @alesainz @e-lisa-bettan @hockey-racing-fubol @cinnamonroll2003

𝐀 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 [𝐋𝐒𝟏𝟖]

photo credits: Pinterest

Pairing: Lance Stroll x Fem!Reader

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

Warnings: fluff, friends to lovers romance also fake dating trope so we’re going all in baby

A/N: I love this man, this man is very underrated and this is going to be a mini-series, probably 7/8 parts but we’ll see how it goes

Word Count: 1.7k (7 minutes reading time avg)

…

Lance oddly glances over your face, definitely dumbfounded by your ask.

Trying to persuade one of the two drivers for the team that you work for, that going as your pretend date to your brother’s wedding was quite possibly the weirdest favour you could ask of anyone.

You tilt your head, reasoning with him. “Whatever you need, I will do it and I’ll do it to the best of my ability.”

He hums, “I don’t need anything.”

You inhale through your nose, “I’ll wash your race suit and even bring it to the remaining.. 20 races."

With pursed lips, he appears untempted by your proposal.

“Okay, then I’ll do all your laundry, not just your race suit.” You say.

“There’re people in the team who do that anyway?” You sigh, leaning your elbows on the table.

“I’ll clean your driver’s room, after every practice session, after every qualifying, and after every race.”

He feigns offence, “my room is very neat for your information.”

You scoff, not wanting to but getting all the more closer to giving up.

“Then do this for me as a friend, you just said you had nothing to do between now and Baku anyway.” You countered, pointing an accusing finger at him.

Lance smiles slightly. “It’s a massive favour Y/N, I can’t just drop all my plans.”

You half-frowned, knowing he had a point. “Look, the moment I set my phone down, I know my mum would’ve been rounding up all the bachelors from here to Canada.”

He laughed and you smiled, though you were pretty sure your mum really was doing so.

“Have you asked anyone else?” He questioned, out of sheer curiosity on why you came to him first.

“No I haven’t, should I?”

“I don’t know.” His answer makes you groan, “one weekend Lance.”

There was a shift of emotion in his face and you jumped at the opportunity to try and make it as convincing for him as possible, “one or two photos, my dad loves racing so tell him about Bahrain. I have a nephew who’s into motorcycles so talk away about them.”

“With an 8 year old?” You blinked at him, “I admit the conversations may not be enthralling but toy motorcycles really get his gears turning.”

The F1 driver weighs out the pros and cons of your request, circling the rim of his glass with the tip of his index finger.

His eyes flicker to your pleading expression, your fingernails digging into the underside of your chin, your hands brought together in a praying gesture.

“Is a weekend with me going to be that horrible?” You inquire.

“No,” he admits, casually falling back on to his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “I was never going to say no, I just wanted to see how far you’d go.”

He grins cockily and you reach over to slap his arm which he manages to pull away from in time.

…

The few days after the Australian race, you'd been hammered by your parents and your siblings, on who the mystery boy was. It was pretty well known that they'd meet him at some point next weekend but that obviously wasn't reason enough for them to stop asking every question under the sun about him.

When the build to that weekend officially began, you prayed that it would pass smoothly, you'd tell a few little white lies along the way and should they ever ask about him following the wedding, you and Lance would've been peacefully broken up by then.

Easy.

"Oh gosh, here we go." You lower your head to your lap while Lance takes a single sip from his champagne glass, setting it down on the coaster.

You knew bumping into a relative who asked a million and one questions during the rehearsal would be a given so you'd prepared your 'date' as best you could.

You instinctively reach for his hand, settling the palm of yours on the back of his. He's slightly disconcerted at the contact but doesn't move an inch, he glances at you sat on the seat besides him as you do the same.

You release a shaky sigh, "my sister's going to interrogate you like she's trying to put the FBI to shame. You remember what I told you right?" You ask quietly.

He nods faintly, "yeah, of course I do." He assures you.

You muster a sincere smile before retracting your hand from his and allowing it to fall on to your lap again. You then rub your palms on your thighs and stand up to embrace her.

Lance straightened on his chair, allowing your sister to approach the table before he followed your movements. You swallow when his hand rests on your lower back, but you reminded yourself it was just a part of the act.

It was amusing in hindsight how you'd pleaded, borderline begged, for him to be your pretend boyfriend for a weekend but you hadn't actually thought about what that might necessitate.

"Hi!" Your sister was ever the bubbly one who could rave about her passions for days while remaining oblivious to the other person's lack of interest.

She flung her arms around your neck and brought you in for a hug, to which you chuckled and winded your arms around her back. Lance's hand fell to his side, his gaze falling to his feet.

Once you'd pulled away, she sighed happily then glanced at him expectantly. You cleared your throat and he swiftly turned his head towards you, then at her.

"Dais, this is Lance," you realise he probably needs no further introduction. "Lance, this is my sister, Daisy."

He gives her a genuine smile, taking her hand that she holds out as a formal introduction. "Is this the boyfriend I messaged you a million times about?"

You scoff with a smile, feeling his eyes fall to your face, as if he was watching for something. "Yep, in the flesh." He swallows, nodding.

She gasps, pointing a finger towards him and you panic for a moment, if there was a single hidden talent your sister had, it was putting two and two together at record speed.

Luckily, Lance remained unphased despite the stark contrast between yours and his tension levels.

"You're the F1 driver Dad was telling us about, the one with the broken wrists." She announced loudly, though it was only a surprise to her.

"That's my reputation I guess." He comments, turning his head to your side, directing it at you. You smile, continuing to fidget with your two intertwined hands.

But he confirms it nonetheless, "that's me."

"Wow, F1. Must be cool having the girl you date at the garage for every race." He gave her a polite smile, not knowing how to continue the conversation.

“It has its perks.” You agree with him, not vocally saying what those supposed perks were.

“What kind of perks?” Your sister asked craftily and you sigh, dismissing her question.

“Behave, now go and find Kev, we want to congratulate him.” As your baby sister, with a huff, she agreed and sauntered off elsewhere.

“She’s nice.” You hummed, turning your body to Lance’s so your back was facing the crowd of people that would occasionally glance in your direction.

“She’s one of many,” He smiled, seeing the deflation on your face form when you realised this was going to be a very long weekend of lying.

“Regretting it?” You meet his eyes, he meets yours. “No. Just wondering if it was the best decision.”

“One question less, 20 more in its place.” You chuckle knowing he was referring to the inevitable question on where your date was had you not brought one, but because you had, it was flipped on its head.. then multiplied.

“Should I apologise for bringing you here now?”

“How bad are they?” He asks.

“Enough.”

…

"I haven't seen anything about you two online, considering you're famous and all." Your words remained stuck in your throat as you scrambled to try and find an answer for it in your head, Lance chuckled a little nervously.

"We keep it on the down low, trying to navigate through a relationship while being in the spotlight has its own challenges." You looked up at him and gave him a sympathetic look, a doubtful smile on your lips.

You turned back to your mum who hummed, almost with a certain distaste in her tone, a sour look on her face which you really weren't in the mood for. She was never fond of the guys you 'picked' for yourself, but instead the male specimen she spoke to once were going to be your Prince Charming, God forbid you ever went against that.

"Look, me and Lance are a little jet-lagged so can we carry this on sometime else?" You gave her a pointed look and she took the hint, though not without shooting you a knowing glance.

"Well, your room's all ready for you at home." She says.

Home. You hadn't heard that word from your mother's lips for some time, having moved away and working everywhere in the world, it was rare you found time to go and see your family.

"Thanks mum." She kissed you on the cheek before walking away, ignoring Lance's existence entirely. Your shoulders slumped once her attention had turned towards your brother and his soon-to-be wife, whom you'd already congratulated.

He exhales through his nose and you lift your eyes up to his face, "Okay, getting slightly worse." You shake your head, your fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of your nose. At this point, you were wishing for the night to be over.

By the time the night is coming to its eventual end, you and Lance had managed to convince most people with your act of being a couple. That entailed a lot of hand-holding and lovesick smiles but you'd pulled it off, a little too well.

With his hand splayed out on your thigh, your hand was wrapped around his bicep. Along with every little gesture and movement, there was a fresh wave of goosebumps forming on your skin. You didn't think Lance knew that he was stroking his thumb along the fabric of your leggings.

"We should get some sleep," You turned your head to him and he looked down at you, his attention turning away from the current conversation your sister had everyone tuned into.

"Ready when you are." He added and minutes later, you and Lance were leaving the table, a few of your folks extending their fair shares of goodbyes and nice to meet you's to him.

...

Part 2

Masterlist

Comment if you want to be tagged in the next part!