I present to thee a request for Lance stroll x older sibling of Pau Cubarsi if you write for him that is….. uh maybe like uni student majoring in something “normal” like education or finance.
family getaway
pairing: lance stroll x cubarsi!reader
summary: in which lance stroll and y/n cubarsi fall in love
warnings: cussing, use of y/n
a/n: my first time writing for lance soo lmk if you like this <3
a/n2: i honestly had no idea what to name this 😭
yourusername posted
yourusername who cares if i'm pretty if i fail my finals? 🎀
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paucubarsi make sure to take breaks! hydrate yourself!
yourusername i will pau, love you <3 user1 don't they live together? user2 no, y/n is 22 now and moved to switzerland a year ago user1 ah okay
user3 not lance stroll in the likes 💀
user4 when she's gorgeous and smart 😩
user5 roryyy <33
you didn’t even realize it had gotten dark.
your room is lit only by your laptop screen, the soft glow washing over messy pages of finance notes and highlighters you stopped using hours ago. everything feels kind of distant — your body, your thoughts, the numbers on the screen. like you’re watching yourself from the outside, sitting there for too long, going too hard.
you barely hear your office door open. you definitely don’t hear the footsteps until he speaks.
“hey.”
you flinch a little when you hear his voice. your fingers pause on the keyboard. you don’t turn around.
“hi,” you mutter. “i’m almost done.”
“you said that three hours ago.”
you hear the sound of a bag being set down — food, probably. you know he means well. but the anxiety buzzing behind your eyes makes everything feel like an interruption.
“i have to finish this,” you say quietly. “the midterm’s in two days and i’m behind on the case study and the simulation is due at midnight—”
you stop when you feel his hand gently touch your shoulder. not forceful. just… there.
“babe.”
you finally look at him.
lance is crouched next to you, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair a little messy like he ran his hand through it too many times. his eyes scan your face — slowly, carefully — and whatever he sees makes his brow crease.
“you look so tired,” he says softly.
you laugh, kind of dry. “that’s because i am.”
he doesn’t smile. just reaches up, brushing your hair back behind your ear. his thumb lingers at your cheek.
“have you eaten today?”
you hesitate. shrug.
“you didn’t answer my texts,” he adds, still quiet.
“i know,” you say, finally, and your voice is so small.
you expect him to be frustrated — maybe a little annoyed that you ghosted him all day. but he just looks sad. not at you, exactly — just at the way you're unraveling.
your phone buzzes on the desk beside you. you don’t even look at it, but lance does.
“pau’s calling,” he says. “you should answer.”
you nod, and he taps to accept.
your brother’s face fills the screen, slightly sweaty, still in training gear. he grins when he sees you, but it fades the second he really looks.
“you okay?”
you nod again. slower.
“you don’t look okay.”
“she’s not,” lance says gently, his arm now wrapped around your shoulder. “i’m trying to get her to rest.”
pau sighs. “same thing every semester. she forgets she’s human when exams come.”
you roll your eyes. “i’m right here, you know.”
pau just smiles. “yeah. and you’re lucky someone’s there to take care of you this time.”
“i’m not leaving her,” lance says quietly.
your chest aches a little at that.
you hang up not long after, promising pau you’ll take a break. you don’t move.
lance brushes your hand with his fingers. “come lie down.”
“i need to finish—”
“no,” he says, gently but firmly. “you need to sleep.”
you open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. you’re too tired. and honestly? he’s right.
he helps you out of your chair like you’re something delicate — like you might break if he moves too fast. and he brings you to bed, tugs the blanket up around you, and pulls you close without saying anything else.
you curl into him like muscle memory. your face tucked into his chest, your hands fisted gently in the fabric of his hoodie. you can feel the rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of his body, the way he holds you like something he refuses to let go of.
“i hate seeing you like this,” he murmurs, lips against your temple. “pushing so hard you forget how to stop.”
you don’t say anything. you don’t need to.
he kisses your forehead. then your cheek. then your nose. slow, soft, lingering.
“you’re not a machine, babe,” he whispers. “i know you’re brilliant. you don’t have to hurt yourself to prove it.”
your eyes flutter shut. not because you’re giving up — but because, finally, you feel safe enough to let go.
he keeps kissing you, gently, like he’s trying to press every unspoken thing into your skin. love. worry. reassurance. all of it.
you fall asleep wrapped in his arms, warm and weightless and loved all the way through.
you’re curled up in bed, head on lance’s chest, his fingers lazily brushing through your hair, when your phone starts buzzing somewhere near the nightstand.
he hums, barely awake. “you gonna get that?”
you groan. “only if it’s not a professor.”
you reach over and squint at the screen. it’s your mom.
you slide to answer. “hi, mamá.”
her voice is as bright as ever, already in full-speed mode. “hola, cariño! how are you? are you finally sleeping again?”
you glance down at lance, who’s now very much awake and raising an eyebrow at you.
“trying to,” you say. “what’s up?”
“well,” she starts, with a kind of excitement you can feel, “we’re going to greece next week.”
you blink. “what?”
“greece! family holiday! everyone’s coming. irene’s flying in from australia, pau’s got time off, and we found the most beautiful villa by the coast. you and lance should book flights — the sooner, the better.”
“you already invited him?” you ask, smiling a little.
“of course. he’s basically family. i already texted him the villa address.”
you glance down at lance again. he grins, shrugging like guess i’m part of the family now.
“we’ll be there,” you say. “thank you.”
“bring sunscreen,” she adds. “and no textbooks.”
“noted.”
greece is everything you didn’t know you needed.
the villa is tucked just above the waterline — whitewashed walls, blue shutters, and a terrace that glows in the sun. your mom meets you at the door with sunglasses on and a fresh juice in her hand, pulling you both into hugs like she hasn’t seen you in years.
“finally,” she says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “you’re both too pale.”
“i’m canadian,” lance jokes, wrapping an arm around your waist. “this is my tan.”
your dad appears from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel, wearing a warm smile and a teasing glint in his eye.
“so this is the guy stealing my daughter’s attention,” he says, mock gruff but proud. “lance, huh? you better treat her right.”
lance grins. “that’s the plan.”
your dad claps him on the shoulder. “good. because if you don’t, you’ll have me to answer to.”
pau’s already out back, tossing a football in the sand, and irene’s lounging on a deck chair, one hand scrolling through her phone, the other wrapped around a lemonade.
“took you long enough,” irene calls, lifting her sunglasses. “i’ve been fending off questions from mom about when you were getting here.”
pau jogs up a second later, arms open. “look who finally escaped the spreadsheets.”
you roll your eyes and hug him anyway. “i’m here now, aren’t i?”
he gestures at lance. “you’re lucky we like him.”
“you love me,” lance shoots back, and without missing a beat, pau just shrugs.
“you’re tolerable.”
lance grins. “i’ll take it.”
the days pass like water — slow, warm, and soft.
there’s late breakfasts on the terrace, fresh bread and honey, your mom humming by the stove while your dad reads the paper at the table, occasionally chuckling and tossing a teasing glance at lance.
long afternoons in the sea, irene floating beside you, pau trying to race lance to the buoy. you all lose track of time under the sun.
lance fits into the rhythm like he always has — helping your mom carry groceries, letting irene paint a stripe of sunscreen across his nose, and reading next to you in the shade with his legs stretched out and your head on his stomach.
one evening, while the sky goes pink and soft above the horizon, you’re tucked against lance on a blanket by the water, everyone else inside getting dinner ready.
his hand finds yours, fingers warm, familiar.
“this feels good,” he murmurs.
you glance up at him. “being on holiday?”
“being with your family,” he says. “like this.”
you smile. “they love you, you know.”
“i love them too.” he squeezes your hand. “but mostly i love you.”
you lean in, kiss him soft and slow.
“i know,” you whisper. “me too.”
he kisses you again — and again, and again — and it’s the kind of kiss that says we’ve been through long nights, and quiet mornings, and all the in-betweens, and i still choose you every single day.
your mom calls from the terrace that dinner’s ready, but you don’t move right away.
you just stay wrapped up in each other, sun-warmed and smiling, the waves curling soft at your feet and the air smelling like salt and something like forever.
yourusername posted
yourusername little break ☀️ irenecubarsi, paucubarsi
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irenecubarsi mi hermosa hermana <33
yourusername te amooo <33
bertagallardo come to barcelona soon! we have to hang out again
yourusername im coming after this trip i promise, mi amor 🙂↕️
user1 i-is... that a man??
user2 CHAT PEDRI IN THE LIKES??
user3 omgg shes so dating pedri!!
user4 wasn't y/n wearing a pedri jersey as well in the last match she went to??
user5 yh but i don't think they're dating honestly...
user6 did y'all forget that pedri is in tanzania or...? 💀
user7 oh shit you're right
“you brought how many snacks?” irene stares at the overflowing beach bag on the boat’s bench seat.
“not enough,” your mom says, already unpacking like she’s setting up for a picnic in the middle of the sea. “i have children. and one future son-in-law with the appetite of a teenage boy.”
lance raises his hands, laughing. “guilty.”
“not future,” you mumble behind your water bottle.
everyone turns.
pau smirks. “what was that?”
“nothing,” you say quickly, cheeks heating.
lance leans in and kisses the top of your head. “she said not future.”
your dad just gives lance a look. “well. good to know.”
you bury your face in your hands as your mom claps and irene dramatically gasps. lance, of course, just wraps his arms around you from behind, grinning like he’s won something.
once you’re out on the water, the world feels far away in the best way. the waves are soft, shimmering like glass, and the breeze smells like salt and sunshine.
you’re curled up in lance’s lap on one of the deck cushions, sunglasses on, his arms wrapped around your waist.
he whispers near your ear, “this is my favorite version of you.”
you glance up, smiling. “what version is that?”
“the relaxed, sun-dazed, happy one,” he says, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “no textbooks, no stress. just you. and us. and this.”
you feel your heart soften in that quiet, full way only he can make happen. you kiss his jaw, then his cheek, and he grins so wide it makes your chest ache a little.
pau decides it’s swim time and cannonballs off the edge of the boat without warning, drenching half the deck.
your dad yells, your mom swats at the water with a towel, and irene screams mid-bite of a croissant.
“you’re cleaning that!” she yells.
“worth it!” pau calls from the sea.
lance pulls off his shirt and tugs your hand. “come on. let’s go.”
“what, now?”
he’s already pulling you toward the edge. “yes now.”
you shriek as he lifts you into his arms, bridal style.
“lance! i swear—”
he kisses your forehead and jumps.
the splash is big. the water’s warm. and when you surface, laughing and breathless, he’s right there, hair slicked back, eyes soft.
“you okay?”
“you’re lucky i like you.”
he leans in and kisses you. right there in the middle of the sea, hands on your waist, like no one else exists.
your mom’s cheering from the boat. “get a room!”
“i’m floating!” you shout back, laughing.
after you climb back on board, your dad hands out towels, and irene makes you both sit under the sun with fresh watermelon slices and lemonade like it’s a spa day.
you lie back against lance’s chest, his chin resting on your shoulder.
“you wanna move to a greek island?” he asks suddenly, half-serious.
you smile. “you’re asking me now? sun-drunk and covered in sea salt?”
“exactly,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your damp shoulder. “you can’t say no when you’re this happy.”
you hum. “only if pau does the grocery runs and irene handles the sunscreen inventory.”
“deal.”
on the ride back to shore, you sit on the bow with your legs stretched out, lance behind you, arms around your waist, his lips occasionally brushing your shoulder just because.
you look over at your family — irene snapping photos of the sunset, your mom humming along to whatever song pau queued up, your dad steering with one hand and pointing out little islands in the distance.
“this,” you whisper, “is kind of perfect.”
lance kisses the top of your head.
“you are,” he says. “this whole day is, because of you.”
footballwags
footballwags who is y/n cubarsí soft launching? many believe it's her brother's teammate pedri, but after being spotted at the barcelona gp in the aston martin garage — and later on a boat with the aston martin driver himself — all clues now point to lance stroll. could lance and y/n be the new couple on the grid?
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user1 no fucking way...
user2 seriously? he's shit. why would anyone want to date him?
user3 stfu. like genuinely. user2 no way you're defending him 💀 user3 bro this has gone way too far... you do realise he is a human being right?
user4 aww omg!!
user5 my two worlds colliding
user6 no way!!
yourusername posted
yourusername life lately :) mikkykiemeney, paucubarsi, lance_stroll
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lance_stroll i love you, beautiful ❤️
yourusername i love you more guapo ❤️❤️
irenecubarsi 💗💗
yourusername te amooo hermanaaa <333
mikkykiemeney luv you pretty 💗💗
yourusername luv youuu guappaaa 💗💗
flavy.barla missing you mon amour 🥹
yourusername we have to catch up as soon as we get back!!
user1 omg omg omg
user2 parents have officially hard launched 🤭
“you ready?” you ask, tugging on your oversized blaugrana jersey as you slide into your seat.
lance glances around the massive stadium like he’s walked onto another planet. “define ready.”
“to scream at people you don’t know, throw your arms in the air when the ref does something stupid, and maybe cry a little when pau scores?”
“i mean, yeah,” he says, leaning back with a grin. “sounds kind of like a race weekend.”
you grin and offer him a fist bump. “you’ll fit right in.”
he bumps your fist, then eyes the pitch. “so… who’s the enemy?”
“we don’t say ‘enemy.’ we say rival. and today it’s sevilla.”
“right.” he squints at the players warming up. “they all look the same. why don’t they wear helmets or something?”
you just stare at him for a second. “helmets. in football.”
“they’re running really fast. someone’s gonna catch a cleat to the head.”
you lean your head on his shoulder, laughing. “you’re unbelievable.”
“i’m just saying,” he murmurs, “there’s a reason f1 has halos.”
your mom and dad are seated just behind you, both in Barça gear, and irene’s beside you with her phone already open to record pau’s walkout. she gives lance a look. “if he asks what offside is again, i’m throwing him off the balcony.”
“i’ve stopped asking,” lance mutters, then leans toward you. “but seriously. what is offside?”
you snort and offer him some of your popcorn instead.
when the match starts, the stadium explodes with sound — cheers, drums, horns, chants in every direction. you’re already on your feet, screaming when pau jogs out with the team, his name echoing across the stadium.
“that’s your brother,” lance says, wide-eyed.
“you’ve met him like a thousand times.”
“yeah but that’s your famous brother.”
pau glances up at your section and waves. irene screams. your mom claps like he just graduated from med school.
you grab lance’s hand, eyes locked on the pitch. “this is gonna be so good.”
twenty minutes in, lance is doing surprisingly well. he’s figured out how corners work, booed when everyone else booed, and asked only one quiet question about why the keeper wears a different jersey.
but then a foul is called, and he gasps dramatically.
“babe. babe, that guy barely touched him. he fell like he got hit by a truck.”
“yes,” you say, “that’s football.”
“it’s fake!” he says, genuinely scandalized.
“it’s dramatic,” you correct.
“he rolled three times!”
you’re laughing too hard to respond, and irene reaches over to high-five him.
when pau makes a clean tackle near the box, the whole stadium roars. you jump to your feet, screaming his name, and lance follows you up with zero idea why he’s yelling.
“what just happened?” he asks, breathless.
“pau stopped a goal.”
“he’s so cool,” lance says. “should i ask for his autograph?”
“you can, but he’ll probably charge you.”
at halftime, your dad leans over and tells lance, “you’re holding up well.”
“thank you,” lance says solemnly. “i’ve memorized three rules and i haven’t embarrassed myself yet.”
“yet,” your mom teases.
when the second half kicks off, you’re leaning forward, elbows on your knees, eyes locked on the pitch.
and then, it happens.
pau charges up the field during a counterattack. the crowd rises with him. he takes one touch, another, and then— he scores.
the stadium explodes.
you scream. irene jumps. your mom is crying. your dad is shouting in full dad-voice. and lance — bless him — jumps up a full three seconds late, arms in the air.
“did he—was that him?!”
“YES!” you shout, throwing your arms around him.
“LET’S GO!” he yells, hugging you back like he scored the goal. “THAT’S MY BOYFRIEND-IN-LAW!”
“lance, what???”
“sorry—BROTHER-IN-LAW. future. whatever. I’M JUST SO PROUD.”
you’re laughing so hard your stomach hurts, and he just spins you in place once before sitting down and pressing a kiss to your cheek.
“i don’t know what’s happening,” he whispers, “but i’m having the time of my life.”
by the end of the game, pau’s goal holds, and the stadium erupts in celebration.
you all stay for the post-match cheers, waving down at your brother as he walks the pitch with the rest of the team.
lance leans into you, voice soft now, his hand still resting on yours.
“okay,” he says. “i get it.”
“football?”
“this. the feeling. it’s like… pride. and chaos. and love.”
you smile up at him. “exactly.”
“still don’t know what offside is, though.”
you squeeze his hand. “don’t worry. you’ve got time.”
the car ride home from the stadium was loud. your mom kept going on about pau’s tackle in the first half (“clean as a whistle”), your dad replayed the goal video on his phone at least three times, and irene was busy uploading blurry photos of you crying after the final whistle.
lance? he was quiet in the backseat, arm around your shoulders, gently playing with the ends of your hair while you buzzed from adrenaline and pride.
“so,” he murmured near your ear, “do i get points for not asking what a throw-in is?”
“ten full points,” you whispered back. “you’re a culer now.”
now, everyone’s kicked off their shoes at the door, and the house smells like your mom’s version of “quick dinner” — which still involves two trays of roasted veggies, warm bread, and bowls of whatever was in the fridge.
pau arrives a little later, backpack slung over one shoulder, still wearing his training hoodie. you hear the door click open, and then:
“did you cry?” he calls from the hallway, the door barely shut behind him.
you roll your eyes, walking out to meet him. “you scored — of course i cried.”
pau grins, dropping his bag by the shoe rack. “figured. thought i saw someone jumping like a lunatic in row twelve.”
“that was irene,” you say. “i was the one sobbing.”
he pulls you into a quick hug, all warm and sweaty and proud. “you’re soft.”
“and you’re annoying,” you mutter — but your grin says otherwise.
“hey,” lance calls from the kitchen doorway, holding two glasses of water. “goal machine.”
pau smirks. “you yell loud enough?”
“probably too loud,” lance says, setting the glasses down. “the people in the next section were definitely judging me.”
“welcome to barça,” pau shrugs.
lance_stroll posted
lance_stroll life's good :) yourusername
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yourusername mi guapooo ❤️❤️
lance_stroll ❤️❤️
user1 omgg they are soo cuteee
user2 the way he looks at her 🥹
paucubasi hermano 💪
lance_stroll you better come to a race soon, mate! paucubarsi of course, you came to a match so i will come to a race user3 i want to see lance cheering for barca 😭 user4 y/n! be honest, did he know what offside is? yourusername yourusername nope! he didn't have a clue user5 how does fernando feel about you being a culer now, lance? lance_stroll well... he's not very happy about it
user6 aww look at lance being all aesthetic
user7 yeah i bet it was all y/n...
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