This Parallel Makes Me Sad, Thanks Op

this parallel makes me sad, thanks op 🥲

Azerbaijan Grand Prix 2018 -> Saudi Arabian Grand Prix 2024

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 💪

and let the history books name joe biden, rishi sunak, justin trudeau, emmanuel macron, ursula von der leyen and every other world leader who did not step in to prevent the genocide of palestine as cold-blooded murderers. may they face a shred of the immeasurable pain and suffering they allowed to be committed against 2.2. million innocent lives.

actual children omg

max and daniel playing imaginary padel with each other [x]

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

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

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