#fernando alonso fluff

[verstappenf1lecccc]

All the Miles Between Us

Fernando Alonso x Wife!Reader -

A Life in Five Decades

hi babes this is my favourite work I’ve done I am absolutely sorry for the heartbreak hehe!!!

Youth (Ages 22–30)

Barcelona, 2005

You were scribbling notes in a corner of the paddock, trying to finish your article on tire degradation, when a shadow fell over your notebook.

“Do tires always get that much attention?” a Spanish accent teased.

You looked up, annoyed. “Only when the car’s too fast to blame anything else.”

Fernando grinned, lowering his sunglasses. “Ah. So you’re one of those journalists.”

“I’m not a journalist,” you replied. “Just an intern. So don’t waste your charm on me.”

“Too late,” he said, already leaning against the railing like he had all day. “What’s your name?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to need something to call you when I win on Sunday.”

You rolled your eyes but smirked. “We’ll see.”

He did win that Sunday. And when he stood on the top step of the podium, champagne in hand, he winked right at your press box.

The next morning, there was a single flower taped to your locker.

It was worth it. – Fernando

⸻

Paris, 2006

It wasn’t fast. You kept it slow. Careful.

You didn’t want to be another name in a long list of weekend flings. And to his credit, Fernando never once treated you like one.

He wrote to you. Real letters. Called when he could, texted when he couldn’t. You still remember one from Istanbul:

Today the car felt like shit but your voice felt like home. I miss you more than I miss sleep. Love you already, I think. Don’t tell me I said that.

⸻

Oviedo, 2007 – The First Fight

The first time you shouted at him was in the kitchen of his family’s house.

“You never stop,” you snapped, slamming a drawer shut. “You don’t eat, you don’t rest, and when you’re not on track you’re still thinking about it!”

“It’s my job!” he fired back. “It’s what I was born to do!”

“And what about us?” Your voice cracked. “Were you born to destroy this, too?”

Silence. Long and awful.

Then, softly, “Do you think I don’t love you?”

“I think you love racing more.”

He walked out that night.

Came back the next morning with a bruised heart and a bouquet of gardenias.

He knelt at your door. “I didn’t sleep. I can’t sleep if we’re not okay.”

You let him in. You always would.

⸻

The Proposal – Oviedo, 2009

It was winter. Snow dusted the rooftops. You’d spent the day trying to assemble Ikea furniture while he read instructions out loud in a horrible British accent.

“I swear I’ll propose before I figure this out,” he grumbled, upside down under a bookshelf.

“God help us both,” you muttered, laughing.

That night, you were in pajamas, wine in hand, fire crackling in the hearth. He looked over at you, completely unguarded.

“You want to marry me?” he asked suddenly, softly.

You blinked. “Is that a serious question?”

He got up, walked over, and slipped his grandmother’s gold chain into your palm. “This is all I have on me. But I swear I’ll give you everything else. Please. Say yes.”

You were already crying when you whispered, “Always, Fernando.”

⸻

The Wedding – Asturias, 2010

The ceremony was on a hill, the wind catching your veil like it had a life of its own. Fernando looked at you like he’d never seen the sun before.

Your vows were whispered but felt louder than any engine.

“I promise to never let you go to sleep angry,” you said.

“And I promise to make you laugh when you least want to,” he added.

You both cried during the first dance. He held your waist like you were made of something ancient and holy.

“You’re too good for me,” he murmured.

“No. I’m just the one who stayed.”

That night, you lay tangled in white sheets, his fingers tracing the lines on your collarbone.

“I’ll spend every day proving I deserve this,” he whispered. “Even the hard ones.”

⸻

The Miscarriage – Rome, 2011

You were nine weeks in. You hadn’t told him yet. You were going to surprise him in person bought a tiny onesie that said papa’s lucky charm and everything.

Then the cramps started. The blood came. And you knew.

You didn’t cry at first. Just stared at the ceiling while the world turned inside out.

When he called from the hotel, you said, “You should come home.”

He knew.

He arrived the next morning, eyes red from the flight, his jacket still smelling like rain.

You collapsed in his arms.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” you sobbed. “And now it’s just gone.”

Fernando sank to his knees in front of you, pressing his forehead to your stomach.

“I already loved them,” he whispered. “Even if I never got to meet them.”

That night, he built a fire and held you close, rubbing your back while you shook with silent grief.

“We’ll try again,” he whispered. “When you’re ready. And even if it never happens, we’ll still have us. Always.”

You cried yourself to sleep with your hand over his heart.

⸻

Monaco Crash – 2013

You were watching live, laughing at a silly commentator’s remark when his car veered, slammed the barrier.

Your scream startled everyone in the room.

The headset fell from your ears. Your body moved before your brain could.

You were at the medical center before they could stop you, face pale and hands trembling.

He saw you through the glass, smiled weakly. “You’re more dramatic than the crash, mi vida.”

You shoved the curtain aside, tears in your eyes. “I thought you were dead, Fernando!”

He pulled you close, wincing. “Takes more than a wall to take me away from you.”

“Don’t joke,” you choked out.

“I’m not. I saw your face when they pulled me out… and all I thought was, ‘thank God, I’m still hers.’”

⸻

Final Moments of Youth – Austria, 2015

You were on a hiking trail, breathless from the altitude and the laughter. He had his arm around your shoulders, cheeks flushed.

“I think this is it,” he said, stopping to stare at the valley below.

“What?”

“The moment I stop chasing speed. I’m tired and for the first time, I think I want a slower life.”

You looked up at him, heart softening.

“You sure?”

He nodded. “I’ve been fast long enough. I want to learn how to be still with you.”

You kissed him. He kissed you back like he was anchoring himself to the ground.

⸻

The Middle Years (Ages 30–50)

⸻

Oviedo, 2016 — Slow Living Begins

Your house on the hill became a sanctuary. No roaring engines. No flights every weekend. Just wildflowers and books stacked in uneven towers.

Fernando gardened badly. You teased him relentlessly about the crooked tomato vines and his “tragically overwatered basil.”

“You’re just jealous my plants love me more,” he said with dirt on his cheeks, offering you a squashed-looking tomato like it was a diamond.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty,” you smirked.

He grinned. “So you do think I’m pretty.”

You rolled your eyes. “I married you, didn’t I?”

Evenings became your favorite time. You’d sit on the porch with mugs of tea, listening to the wind and letting your legs touch under the table.

“You know,” he said one night, his voice low, “this is the happiest I’ve ever been. No trophies. No pressure. Just you.”

You rested your head on his shoulder. “Then you finally understand what I’ve been trying to give you all these years.”

⸻

Barcelona, 2017 — The First Baby

The second time you got pregnant, you were terrified.

Fernando kissed your stomach every night like a prayer. “You’re not alone this time,” he whispered.

He went with you to every appointment. Held your hand when you cried during the heartbeat scan.

At twenty-three weeks, you woke him up at 3 a.m. in a panic.

“I had a dream the baby didn’t make it,” you whispered, voice shaking. “I felt so empty, Nando, I couldn’t breathe-”

He sat up immediately, pulling you into his lap.

“Feel this?” he said, placing your hand over your belly. “That’s life, cariño. And this…” He pressed your palm to his chest. “That’s love. I swear on both we’re going to be okay.”

Your daughter, Lucía, was born on a foggy autumn morning in October.

He cried so hard when he first held her you thought he might drop her.

“She’s got your nose,” he sobbed.

“And your stubborn brow,” you said, brushing her downy hair. “We’re doomed.”

⸻

Marbella, 2020 — The Second Baby & Pandemic Isolation

Your second child, Mateo, came during the quiet panic of the pandemic.

You gave birth wearing a mask. Fernando wasn’t allowed in the room for the first hour.

When he finally held him, he whispered, “You came into chaos and still brought peace.”

Those months were strange. Locked indoors with two small children, restless hands, and headlines full of dread.

One day you snapped, tears streaking your face after three straight nights without sleep.

“I don’t even know who I am anymore!” you yelled, cradling a crying Mateo while Lucía smeared crayon across the walls.

Fernando took the baby gently, whispered, “You’re the strongest person I know.”

“I’m falling apart.”

“So fall,” he said. “I’ll catch you.”

⸻

Oviedo, 2022 — The Cancer Scare

You found the lump in the shower. Firm. Small. But undeniably there.

You didn’t tell Fernando for a week. He was already overwhelmed his mother’s health was declining, the world still uncertain.

When you finally sat him down, you said it fast “I found something in my breast. I have a scan tomorrow.”

The way the color drained from his face nearly broke you.

He reached for you instantly, thumb trembling as he stroked your cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t want you to panic until I knew.”

“But you were already panicking,” he said softly. “Weren’t you?”

You nodded.

He pulled you into his chest and held you for so long you lost track of time. The night felt like a never-ending breath you couldn’t release.

At the hospital, his grip never left yours. The waiting room. The ultrasound. The biopsy. Each click of the machine felt like thunder.

When the doctor finally said it was benign a fibroadenoma, not cancer Fernando laughed and cried at the same time. His head bowed in relief, tears soaking into your shirt.

That night, he held your scarred breast in his hands and kissed it.

“This body… it’s given me everything,” he whispered. “You. Our children. Our life. I’ll never take a single piece of it for granted again.”

You wept into the crook of his neck. The way he looked at you never changed. Not through aging. Not through scars. Not through fear.

Only deeper. Only fuller. Only more.

⸻

Asturias, 2023 — Losing Your Father

He died suddenly. A heart attack in his sleep.

Fernando drove you six hours overnight so you could say goodbye at dawn.

At the funeral, you didn’t speak for three days.

He cooked for you, sat beside you without pushing, held your hand even when you wouldn’t meet his eyes.

On the third night, you finally spoke.

“I didn’t even say ‘I love you’ the last time we spoke. I told him I was too busy to call.”

Fernando pulled you close, your grief soaking into his shirt.

“You were busy. Loving me. Raising our kids. Being the person he was so proud of.”

You sobbed into his chest, the pain blooming like wildfire.

He stayed up with you all night, listening to stories about your dad. Never said a word. Just listened.

⸻

Oviedo, 2028 — The Anniversary

Lucía was fourteen. Mateo was eleven. Your house was loud with hormones and burnt toast.

You’d forgotten it was your anniversary until you came home and found the entire garden lit with string lights, your favorite dinner steaming on the table.

Fernando stood in a button-up shirt that didn’t match his pants, holding a wrinkled card.

“I panicked. The kids helped. Lucía picked the flowers. Mateo made dessert so eat at your own risk.”

You laughed until you cried.

Over dinner, you held his hand and whispered, “You’re still my favorite thing in the world.”

He kissed your knuckles. “I’ve had so many lives… but the only one I ever wanted was the one where I’m yours.”

⸻

The End (Ages 50–70)

⸻

Oviedo, 2040 — The Quiet Years

The house grew quieter with each passing year. Lucía left for university first,political science, all fire and fight like her father. Mateo followed soon after, gentler, more like you, always calling just to hear your voice.

You and Fernando got used to cooking for two. Walking the same forest path behind the house each morning. Picking out tomatoes at the market like it was a grand adventure. Reading in bed with your feet tangled together under the blanket.

“This is the good part,” you whispered one morning, watching the sun spill golden over his lined face. “No rush. No races. Just you.”

Fernando chuckled. “I liked winning. But this—” He reached to brush your hair back. “This is better.”

⸻

Barcelona, 2046 — The Diagnosis

It started with fatigue.

You thought it was just age. Then the headaches came. The weight loss. The vision blurs.

They found the tumor in June. Glioblastoma. Terminal.

You were fifty-nine.

You waited until you knew for sure before you told Fernando. You practiced the words in the mirror a hundred times. Still, nothing prepared you for the way he crumpled in the hospital hallway, clutching the edge of a plastic chair like it might save him.

“No,” he said. “No, no, no don’t say it. We still have time. We always have time.”

You held his face and made him look at you. “We have time to love, Nando. But not forever. And that’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he sobbed, voice breaking. “It’s not okay.”

You kissed him. “We were never promised forever. But we earned every second.”

⸻

Oviedo, 2047 — Preparing for Goodbye

The house changed again.

He moved the bed to the sunroom so you could see the trees sway while you rested. He played your favorite records on quiet mornings Piano Concerto No. 2, Springsteen, Fleetwood Mac. You talked about everything and nothing.

You asked him to write to you again. Like he did when you were twenty.

He filled six notebooks.

“I never knew how much I still had to say to you,” he whispered one day, holding your hand like it was made of porcelain. “Even now.”

You cried together, often. But you also laughed about how bad his cooking still was, how Lucía inherited your temper, how Mateo cried at commercials.

You made him promise something, one night when the pain was bad.

“When it’s time… I want one last dance,” you said, voice raw but soft. “Just you and me. Like before.”

“Of course,” he whispered, pressing his lips to your knuckles. “Name the song, mi amor.”

You smiled. “Infinity Jaymes Young.”

His voice caught. “That’s our song.”

“It always was.”

⸻

October, 2048 — The Final Dance

You knew it was time. The doctors said days, maybe a week. You didn’t want machines. You just wanted your family.

Lucía and Mateo flew in. They curled beside you in bed like they were little again. Fernando never left your side. Not once.

On a soft October evening, with the windows open and golden light pouring in, he helped you out of bed. Your body trembled. He held you up.

And then he played the song.

“Baby this love I’ll never let it die…”

You danced.

Slow. Barely moving. His arms around you. Your head on his shoulder. Your breath shallow.

“You gave me the best life,” you whispered against his neck. “I wouldn’t trade a second.”

He cried freely, holding you tighter. “I’m not ready. I’ll never be ready.”

You smiled, even through the tears. “I’ll wait for you. Wherever the next place is, I’ll be there.”

“Promise?”

You kissed his lips. “I promise.”

⸻

A Week Later

You passed away in your sleep, in the home you built together.

Fernando stayed beside you until the sun rose. He kissed your forehead and whispered the last words you ever said to him: “I’ll wait for you.”

⸻

Years Later — After You Were Gone

He kept your books on the shelf.

Still made tea for two, sometimes forgetting.

Still wrote you letters even when there was no one to read them.

Your children came often. Brought your grandkids. Told stories you’d once told them.

Lucía once asked him, “Do you still miss her, after all these years?”

He smiled, eyes soft with memory. “Every day. But I know she’s just ahead of me. Not gone. Just waiting.”

⸻

The Reunion

There’s a dream Fernando has often.

He’s young again. You’re waiting for him beneath a streetlamp in Florence, wearing the dress you wore the night you told him you loved him for the first time.

Music floats in from an open café window. He reaches for your hand.

“Dance with me?” he asks.

You smile.

“Always.”

And you do.

Dancing with him forever

[gguk-n]

Fernando's Protege (Fernando Alonso x Single mom!Reader)

Summary- Alejandro was the next big thing in Karting and he was only 8 years old. He also looked up to Fernando Alonso. Getting to meet Alonso changed not just his life but also his mom's.

Watching Alejandro zip past the strait on the track, Y/N felt a sense of pride. He was only 8 and was a force to be reckoned with. He was fast, agile and most of all humble; which was the reason why he was doing so well. Y/N always taught her son to be thankful and grateful for the opportunities and the success.

Alejandro was a tiny version of her, the biggest similarity being their love for cars. She had passed down her love for racing to her son. When he was born 8 years ago, she did not imagine she would be standing at the track in Madrid watching her son winning his first karting championship. There was a buzz as Alito crossed the finish line. His mom already by his side as he took his helmet off, a big toothy grin plastered on his face. "Momma, did you see? I was so fast" he spoke animatedly while trying to catch his breath. She smiled at him, "Yes, you were carino." while hugging him. "Let's go, you need to rehydrate and then we'll check the kart before we have to go for the debrief." she continued. Her son smiled at her, now sipping from his 'Cars' bottle.

This shared interest of theirs had Y/N working 2 jobs and a freelance gig so that she could make it to his races. But watching Alito smile was more than all she could ask for. As the debrief started, she heard a lot of whispers and murmurs until one of the interviewers compared her son to Fernando Alonso, his idol. That boy really looked up to Alonso; even though he was just a kid he knew how hard his mom worked to make his dreams a reality. He knew Alonso had to work really hard to get where he is, and Alito knew he wanted to be just like Alonso and race on the same track with him. "So, Alejandro, how does it feel to win your first Spanish karting championship?" the interviewers asked. "It's the best. I'm gonna have pizza after this." he cheered. A small smile evident on his mother's lips as she watched him interact. "You've been a force to be reckoned with. People say you remind them of Fernando Alonso." the interviewer spoke. "What does that word mean?" Alejandro asked. "Reckoned means people think you are or might be as good as Alonso in his karting days" the interviewer elaborated. The little boy jumped up and down bouncing on his feet as he answered the question, "He is my idol after my momma obviously" he said while looking at his mom, "I love him and I wanna be like him and race with him one day" he spoke with his voice slightly higher. "I hope you get to do that some day, I think it might happen soon" the interviewer said. They continued with question on race strategies and then Alejandro walked away to receive his trophy.

The interview of Alejandro after the race had started making it's rounds on the internet when people found out how much he loved Alonso and how both of them came from humble backgrounds. It had reached Fernando's PR team who showed it to him. Fernando ended up watching his races and he was happy to have such a talented boy look up to him. As he dug deeper into his story, he found out Alejandro's mom was his team, she was doing all of this alone. He knew how difficult it was; Alonso saw the potential and he wanted to help the family. His PR team ended up contacting Alejandro and his mom through social media and got them tickets to his race in Spain. When Y/N got the dm and the invite, she was over the moon. Both of them were huge fans and this was a once in a life time thing.

On the day of the race, Alejandro was decked out in green repping Fernando and Aston Martin. He was literally bouncing off the walls with the excitement. Y/N packed a small bag with some food and an extra change of clothes for Alito. There was a buzz in the air as she drove them to the venue. Alito couldn't stop talking about everything he would tell Alonso and all the pictures he would take. She parked the car and got Alejandro and some of their essentials out and was greeted by the Aston Martin team at the entrance. They handed them their paddock passes which Alejandro insisted on wearing on his own and asked to take pictures with. They walked towards the Aston Martin hospitality while Y/N tried to keep a tight grasp on the little boy's hand. He waved at anyone and everyone he made eye contact with. She almost lost him when he saw Carlos and sprinted towards him, with Y/N just behind.

"Hola Carlos, I'm a big fan" he chirped. Carlos smiled and replied, "But it looks like you love Alonso more" The little boy looked down before saying, "He's my idol, I wanna race with him one day" Carlos ruffled his head, "Sure you will" he said. I greeted Carlos, apologised for the inconvenience. He brushed it off and even took a picture with Alejandro on his request. She scolded him on the way back about running away from her. Alito apologised and even kissed his mom's hand. They reached Aston Martin without anymore hiccups.

Fernando was waiting to greet them, "Hola, Alejandro" with his hand out for him. "Hola Fernando" he said while shaking his hand. "Congratulations on your win" Fernando said. "Muchas gracias, I wanna be like you when I grow up" Alejandro blurted while hugging Fernando's legs. "I think you'll be better than me with how you're doing" Fernando replied while patting the boy's back. "You must be the mother of this lovely boy, Hi, I'm Fernando" he said directing his attention to Y/N. She couldn't help but giggle, "Hi, I'm Y/N. I know who you, he inherited my love for racing and you" she replied a blush forming at the words she just uttered; hitting herself mentally. Fernando smiled, his eyes glimmering with a playfulness she didn't notice when he spoke to her son. "Well, his mom does have good taste" he said with a smirk. Lance greeted us too, calling Alejandro a protege. Fernando was summoned by the team, "I have to go Alejandro, have fun. I'll see you soon" he smiled at Alejandro; "See you soon, hermosa" he directed these words towards Y/N, shooting a quick wink before he turned around to leave, a flush of crimson kissed her cheeks.

Fernando started 8th and finished 7th. Alejandro really hoped that his idol would finish on the podium but he was happy nonetheless. The day ended with Fernando back at the hospitality after all the post race interviews and podium while the mother and son duo were getting ready to leave. Alejandro handed Fernando a piece of paper, he had drawn him and Fernando on a podium after a formula one race in Spain with the Spanish flag on the top, "You aren't just good at karting, but you are a good artist" Fernando said admiring the art. "Gracias" Alejandro replied. "You should come to see me race, I'm pretty good" he said. "I would love to watch you race" Fernando professed. Now, Fernando turned his attention to the boy's mother, "I don't know if my team said anything, but I would like to help Alejandro reach his dream and exceed his potential." "Your team did say something, but I wasn't sure." Y/N replied while rubbing her hands. "I would like to personally sponsor him but I'll also try to get him sponsors. I know how hard it can be and I would love to watch him reach formula one, if that is his dream." he declared. Y/N smiled, "Muchas gracias, how do I ever repay you for your kindness?" she muttered. "No need to, I'm just happy I can be of help to him." he said while looking at Alejandro who was now busy playing with Lance. Her eyes darted between her son and Alonso. "We should exchange number" he said. Y/N looked shocked, her mouth agape. "So, that I can come to one of his races" he continued. "Oh, yes, yes, one second" she said while pulling her phone out. They exchanged numbers and then said their good bye.

Alejandro had gotten quite after they sat in the car, "What's up, bebe?" Y/N asked her son. "I miss Alonso" he mumbled while wiping away his tears. "Oh no, carino" she said while turning back to hand him a tissue. The little boy's voice came out in quite sobs which racked his body. She pulled the car to the side and climbed back to comfort her son. "It's ok, Alito. You'll see him soon." she comforted the crying boy. "He even gave me his number, we can call him some time later." she suggested which seemed to cheer the boy up.

A while later, Alejandro was competing in the Rotax Max championship in the Mini Max category with help from Alonso who did come to a race. Alejandro was over the moon excited. The two of them had kept in touch after the grand prix. They would call Alonso up every once in a while which lead to Y/N and Fernando also growing closer to each other. With their growing closeness, there were new feelings that had started to take place in both their hearts that neither were aware of. Y/N found herself putting more effort while getting ready before video calls or the race he was supposed to come to. Alito enjoyed his company and Fernando liked having a tiny karting genius. The race which Fernando come, Alito didn't finish podium and was bummed. Fernando cheered him up saying that he didn't finish podium when he came to see him either, so they were even.

After the race, they headed out for dinner. Fernando didn't want the day to end and who was Y/N to say no to him. At the restaurant, the waiter complimented them saying that they were a cute couple, Y/N was ready to correct him but Fernando thanked him. The waiter may have gotten tipped handsomely that night. Alejandro had fallen asleep in the back of the car on the way back to the hotel. Fernando carried him their room. After laying him down on the bed, "I had fun today" he commented. "Me too" Y/N agreed. Fernando hugged her good bye, the hugged lasted longer than between 2 friends, it was like neither wanted to pull away.

The pair got closer to Fernando as time passed. Initially, Y/N used to monitor Fernando and Alejandro's calls, now she would let them talk unsupervised which led to Y/N receiving tickets to the next grand prix and flight. Y/N immediately rang Fernando up, "hey, Fernando." she greeted. "Hi, Y/N" came a groggy voice. "I'm sorry. Did I wake you up?" she apologised. "No, no. What's up?" he cleared his voice. "Did you send me ticket's to the next GP?" she asked. "Yes, we're back in Europe and Alito told me he is on summer holiday." he replied. "Nando, it's too much. I can't" she protested. "It's ok, hermosa. I wanted to see Alito too. I won't get a refund either. See you there" he insisted. "Ok, see you there." she lamented.

They were at the Spanish grand prix for the second time this time. Every thing felt so familiar yet foreign. Fernando had received them at the airport on Saturday and took them to the hotel. At the paddock, Fernando took the two of them along with him, even introducing Alejandro as junior Fernando. The paddock seemed to love him. All the drivers welcomed him with open arms and the boy was more than excited since he had more than 2 people to talk about his love for racing. Alejandro was a little star at the paddock. Once they found out about his karting history, they gave him more tips and tricks on how to do better. He soaked it all up.

Y/N was stood at the side watching them interact. "He's a natural." Fernando commented. She smiled at him, "yes, he is. I'm happy he has good role models" she said. Fernando found his cheeks heating up. Alejandro walked back to his mom with Penelope, "momma, meet my new friend, Penelope." Y/N shook her hand. "Can we get ice cream?" he asked. Y/N smiled and took them to get ice cream after getting Kelly's permission. The two kids ended up talking all the way to the stand and enjoyed their ice cream back.

While they were gone, "You like her" Lewis commented. Fernando looked at him shocked, "What? Is it that obvious?" Fernando asked. "You haven't spent this much time with some one since your divorce and you're literally going to karting races to help the kid. I mean anyone and everyone knows you are interested." Lewis stated. "Maybe, I'm just being nice." Fernando interjected. "Maybe" Lewis hummed; "But I don't think anyone would mind if you had other intentions. Everyone deserves love, especially the both of you, after all the personal stuff that has led you two to each other." Lewis said. Fernando mulled over his thoughts and Lewis's words.

Race day was hectic. Fernando finished out of points but was still happy to spend time with Y/N and Alejandro. They ended up going out for dinner after and spent a lot of time sat in the restaurant. When Y/N had gone to the washroom, Alejandro and Fernando had a conversation. "Alito, can I ask you something?" he asked. "yes" Alejandro replied. "I like your momma. Do you think I should ask her out on a date?" Fernando asked. Alejandro seemed to think about it for a moment. "Does that mean you would become my papa?" he asked innocently. Fernando's heart swelled up with pride and happiness, he didn't want to pressurise the kid but he couldn't help but feel so important and a part of his life. "If you want me to be." Fernando choked out. "I think momma likes you." he stated.

After dropping the mother and son at their hotel, Fernando plucked up the courage and asked Y/N, "Hermosa" he mumbled, his palms sweaty, lips dry; he drove formula one cars for a living for crying out loud, what was happening to him he thought. Alejandro gave him a thumbs up before excusing himself to the toilet. "Would you like to go out with me, sometime, if you're free?" he asked. She looked at him bewildered. "You know I have a son who I'm raising on my own" she questioned. "yes, I've had the pleasure of knowing the bright young racer." he replied. "We're a package deal. I just" she spoke but was quickly cut off by Fernando, "I asked Alito for his blessing before asking you. If this bumps up my chances, he wanted me to be his dad" Y/N eyes were as big as saucers, "He did not say that" she said shocked. "He did. I really like you, I don't know when and how this happened but I genuinely enjoy your company and I would love to spend more time with you as a man and with Alito as a father figure. I don't wanna take anyone's place but carve out a niche for myself." Fernando clarified. She smiled at him. "I think I would like that. I've been hard on myself especially after everything with his dad, maybe I would like to spend time with you as a woman." she said. "I would love to treat you right and show you off" Fernando said. "I'll keep you on that. I'll see you for dinner when you come visit. I don't really have a sitter here" she said. "I know a great sitter, let's go out tomorrow" he suggested. "who's this great sitter?" she chided. "Carlos, I'm sure he wouldn't mind helping out" Fernando said. She nodded her head in agreement. "I'll see you tomorrow then" she said, while placing a kiss on his cheek. Fernando hugged her and kissed her forehead. "see you tomorrow. Good night, mi reina" Y/N blushed while she waved him good bye. Alejandro was listening in on the conversation, ecstatic about his mom and his idol.

Hope you like it.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Toy Cars | Fernando Alonso x Mum! Reader

Summary: Fernando boasts about his step-sons to anyone who will listen. So, when you realise you want more, he's confused why your little family is no longer enough.

Warnings: angst, slight age gap. i pictured reader about 35

Requested: no

just a short one compared to the others

F1 Masterlist

next.

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fernandoalo_official just posted

liked by astonmartinf1, aussiegrit and others

fernandoalo_official not been an easy weekend so far but it’s made easier when one of my favourite people is in the paddock

14,114 comments

jensonbutton but i’m not working this weekend?

→ lance_stroll we all know i’m his other favourite person

→ fernandoalo_official no, the twins are

→ user1 step dad nando has my whole heart

→ yn_ln mine too! 

user2 a hug from fernando would heal me

→ user3 a hug from y/n would heal me

yn_ln weekends where i get to see you are my favourite

→ user4 i will never be normal about these two 

→ user5 it’s the fact that he watches the f2 races because it gives him an excuse to hang out with y/n 

astonmartinf1 our favourite couple 

user6 need fernando to win now that he’s had his good luck hug 

yn_ln just posted

liked by jensonbutton, lance_stroll and others

yn_ln back on track for the twins. both my boys did a wonderful job with high position finishes… oh and they were visited by an enthusiastic fan 😉

5,343 comments

fernandoalo_official i’ll be getting you in one of those karts next 

→ yn_ln that’s going to take a lot of convincing, nando 

→ fernandoalo_official i can think of a few ways, mi vida

→ landonorris ew

→ user7 mi vida!! i will never be normal about these two 

aussiegrit how’d he get his hair that tall 

→ astonmartinf1 it’s so full of secrets 

fa_alonsokart calling the boss an enthusiastic fan is such a power move

→ user8 the fact that he let her and didn’t comment on it tho 

lance_stroll they'll be taking his seat soon enough

user9 love how supportive fernando is of his step-sons

→ user10 he literally started a karting school so that he could help their karting careers

→ user11 the dad that stepped up

user1 what’s your favourite fa14 fact? mine is that he fell in love with y/n l/n, realised she had twins and immediately started enacting project alonso 

→ user2 no because the twins were 11 when he met them and now they’re 15 and looking at f3 seats 

user3 this is what i’ve been saying. fernando doesn’t just love y/n, he loves her children just as much, if not more

user4 fernando alonso puts all other step-dads to shame because he is always there for them, no matter how busy his life is

user5 i really need fernando to hurry up and propose because that is his family

→ user6 yes! he needs to make project alonso official by giving them all his last name

→ user7 and then more babies!  

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comments 

user8 why was this the cutest thing said by anyone ever. like those are his boys 

user9 wait, so does this mean he doesn’t want kids?

user10 the way he cut that interviewer off because that his family whether they share blood or not

→ user11 i read it as he didn’t want to talk about it any more because he doesn’t want more kids and maybe he and y/n haven’t talked about it yet 

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yn_ln just posted

liked by kellypiquet, alexandrasaintmleux and others 

yn_ln an empty house for the week makes me realise that i miss hearing about cars 

2,343 comments

user1 aw are the flowers from fernando?

kellypiquet max keeps trying to convince me to get another cat. don’t let him see this

→ maxverstappen1 too late 

user2 wait, why isn’t she spending summer break with nando?

→ user3 because he’s on holiday 

→ user2 without her? 

→ user4 they don’t have to spend every minute together. he’s allowed to have a break 

user5 guys, y/n and fernando don’t follow each other anymore?

→ user6 i thought you were lying but then i checked and it’s true :( 

→ user7 oh that captions hit extra hard

user8 no because her entire life is racing and now that it’s not there, she realises she misses it

→ user9 she misses him

user10 i’m so confused. they were so in love like two weeks ago. what happened?

user11 no because i can’t imagine seeing fernando without y/n

user12 is he still going to support the twins? 

user13 but you were supposed to get married to fernando and have lots of little alonso’s

→ user14 maybe one of them didn’t want that 

→ user15 can’t imagine it being alonso, he thinks the world of the twins

→ user16 true. he does mention them in almost every interview 

user1 when i remembered f2 were racing this weekend, i was so happy because that meant y/n and nando content and then i remembered they’d broken up

→ user2 all the tweets on here are tearing my heart out as well 

user3 they’ve not spoken to each other once today

user4 yes she walked straight past him but there’s clips of her entire face crumpling as soon as she’s past him

→ user5 yes! i saw that. her colleague had to usher her into the garage before she started crying 

user6 the fact that fernando spent the entire time watching her though

→ user7 even when people were talking to him, he was full on staring at her

→ user8 brokenhearted lover boy made no attempts to hide it 

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Baby Fever Angst Series

Love that I mentioned request for Esteban once and I already have 5 requests 😂 I didn't realise there was that much love for Ocon considering I can never find any fics for him

tag list

[pucksandpower]

Changing the Game

platonic!Fernando Alonso x mentee!Reader

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Summary: motorsport can be cruel, especially for young women aspiring to make it to Formula 1, but when Fernando notices a driver who deserves more than the unjust cards fate handed her, he decides to do something about it … and your life will never be the same

The roar of engines fills the air, blending with the faint scent of gasoline that clings to the paddock like a memory. Fernando walks through the chaos of the Formula 3 circuit, hands in his pockets, sunglasses firmly in place.

His presence is a subtle disruption, not loud, but noticeable. Drivers and engineers glance his way, some nodding in respect, others too focused on their tasks to do more than acknowledge him with a brief flicker of recognition.

He’s been watching the race, the sun high overhead, a burning reminder that summer has a way of dragging things out. Yet, time has felt elastic today, stretched out by the tension of the track and the surprising twist that caught his attention.

A young driver — no, more than just young — barely seventeen, the only female on the grid, had sliced through the competition with precision and ferocity. Her car, marked by the number on the side, had danced on the edge of control, flirting with danger at every turn but never losing its rhythm. When the chequered flag waved, she’d crossed the line in a solid third, inches from second, and not far from the top spot.

He’d seen talent before, of course. It’s part of his world, spotting it, nurturing it, sometimes crushing it under the weight of competition. But something about you caught his eye. There’s a sharpness in your driving, a clarity of purpose that’s rare. He wonders where you’ve been hiding.

As the cars pull into the pit lane, the usual bustle takes over. Engineers swarm around their drivers, debriefs start, and helmets are tugged off with a mix of relief and frustration. Fernando watches from a distance, scanning the crowd until he finds you. You’re standing by your car, tugging at your gloves with a sharp motion, frustration etched in the tightness of your jaw. There’s a fleeting moment where you pull off your helmet, shaking out your hair, and Fernando notices the absence of something.

Sponsors.

Your race suit is practically bare. The car too, minimal branding, the kind that signals a driver struggling to make ends meet rather than one who’s just claimed a podium finish. He frowns, tilting his head slightly as he watches you. It doesn’t make sense. A driver that good should be swimming in offers, drowning in endorsements.

He catches the eye of a paddock official nearby, someone he’s vaguely familiar with — one of those types who always seem to know more than they let on. Fernando strides over, casual but direct. The official straightens up, clearly surprised to have Fernando Alonso approaching.

“Who’s the girl?” Fernando asks, nodding in your direction, though he doesn’t really need to. You’re the only one who fits the description.

The official glances your way, then back at Fernando. “Y/N Y/L/N. She’s been turning heads all season.”

“Not enough, apparently.” Fernando gestures vaguely at your race suit, his tone making it clear he’s talking about the lack of sponsorship. “What’s going on there?”

The official hesitates, glancing around as if to make sure no one’s listening. He lowers his voice slightly, a conspiratorial tone creeping in. “She’s good, real good. But, you know … she’s a girl.”

Fernando’s eyebrows shoot up, a sharp flash of irritation sparking in his eyes. “So?”

“So,” the official continues, shifting his weight uncomfortably, “sponsors and academies, they’re … cautious. Not sure if she’s got the staying power. And you know how it is, they’re more willing to take a risk on a kid who fits the mold.”

“The mold,” Fernando repeats, his voice flat, incredulous. He lets out a breath, shaking his head slightly. It’s 2019, and this is still happening. It shouldn’t surprise him, but somehow, it does.

His gaze returns to you, still standing by your car, now deep in conversation with your race engineer. There’s a fierceness in the way you talk, the way you move your hands as if trying to will the universe to bend to your will. Fernando recognizes that fire — it’s the same one he’s carried in himself for years.

But there’s more than just frustration in your eyes. There’s something else — determination, maybe, but tinged with something darker, something that’s been carved out of too many disappointments. He knows that look too. It’s the one you get when you’re tired of proving yourself over and over, and yet, you keep doing it because there’s no other choice.

Fernando’s decision is made in an instant. He doesn’t overthink it; he never has. That’s not his style. He approaches you with the same casual confidence that’s defined his career, weaving through the bustle of the paddock until he’s close enough to catch the tail end of your conversation.

“... could’ve pushed harder into turn four,” you’re saying to your engineer, frustration coloring your voice. “But the grip just wasn’t there.”

Your engineer nods, making a note on his tablet, but before he can respond, Fernando steps into the space between you.

“Grip’s one thing,” he says, his voice cutting through the noise around you, “but timing’s everything.”

You turn, eyes widening just a fraction as you realize who’s standing there. Fernando catches the flicker of surprise that you quickly mask with a polite, if guarded, smile.

“Fernando Alonso,” you say, your voice a careful mix of respect and curiosity.

“In the flesh,” he replies, a hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He glances at your car, then back at you. “Nice drive today.”

“Thanks.” The word comes out clipped, like you’re not entirely sure what to make of him yet. He can tell you’re used to being judged, sized up and dismissed by those who think they know better. But Fernando’s not here to judge.

“Third place,” he continues, as if he’s thinking out loud. “But you had the pace for second.”

Your eyebrows lift slightly, and for the first time, a hint of a real smile breaks through. “Yeah, I did. But things don’t always go as planned.”

“No,” he agrees, “they don’t. But you’ve got talent. Real talent.”

You study him for a moment, your expression shifting from guarded to something more open, more curious. “Thanks,” you say again, but this time it’s softer, more genuine.

There’s a pause, the noise of the paddock fading slightly as you both stand there, sizing each other up. Fernando knows this is the moment where most people would make some kind of offer — advice, mentorship, maybe even a contract. But he’s never been one to do things by the book.

Instead, he tilts his head slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. “Do you like ice cream?”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. “What?”

“Ice cream,” he repeats, his tone light, almost teasing. “Do you like it?”

“Uh … yeah?” You sound more confused than anything, but there’s a hint of amusement creeping into your voice.

“Great,” Fernando says, as if that settles everything. He steps back, gesturing for you to follow him. “Let’s go get some. My treat.”

You stare at him for a moment, clearly trying to figure out if he’s serious. But when you see that he is, a slow smile spreads across your face, and you can’t help but laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Okay,” you say, still laughing a little as you start to walk beside him. “Why not?”

And just like that, the tension that had been hanging over the paddock seems to dissipate, replaced by something lighter, something that feels almost like hope.

***

The ice cream shop is a short walk from the circuit, tucked into a corner of the small town that’s hosting the weekend’s race. It’s the kind of place Fernando imagines has been around for decades, unchanged except for maybe a new coat of paint every few years. The neon sign in the window buzzes faintly, its pink light reflecting off the glass as he pushes the door open, holding it for you as you follow him inside.

The cool air is a welcome relief from the heat outside, carrying with it the sweet, unmistakable scent of sugar and cream. The shop is quiet, just a couple of kids sitting by the window, licking at cones that seem far too big for them. Behind the counter, a bored-looking teenager perks up as the door chimes, her gaze sharpening as she recognizes Fernando.

“Can I help you?” She asks, her voice brightening as she tries to act casual, though it’s clear she’s a little starstruck.

Fernando nods toward you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Ladies first.”

You hesitate for a moment, then step up to the counter, glancing at the array of ice cream flavors displayed behind the glass. The choices are written in chalk on a board above, but your eyes are immediately drawn to the rich, golden brown of the dulce de leche. You point to it, giving the girl behind the counter a quick smile.

“Two scoops of that, please,” you say, and then, after a beat, “with as many toppings as will fit.”

Fernando raises an eyebrow, amused as he watches you. The girl behind the counter doesn’t question it, scooping generous portions of the creamy ice cream into a cup before moving over to the toppings bar. You lean over the counter slightly, studying the options with a critical eye before making your selections — caramel drizzle, chocolate chips, a handful of crushed cookies, a sprinkle of nuts, and a final flourish of whipped cream on top.

When the girl hands you the cup, it’s practically overflowing, a masterpiece of indulgence that’s almost as impressive as your driving. You turn to Fernando, already reaching for your wallet.

“I can pay for mine,” you say quickly, but Fernando waves you off, already pulling out his own wallet.

“It’s on me,” he insists, his tone making it clear there’s no room for argument.

You open your mouth to protest, but the look he gives you stops you in your tracks. There’s something gentle in his eyes, an unexpected warmth that makes you pause. You let out a small sigh, putting your wallet away as you give in.

“Fine,” you mutter, though there’s no real annoyance in your voice. “But I’m getting you back for this.”

Fernando chuckles as he orders a simple vanilla cone for himself. “We’ll see about that.”

Once he’s paid, the two of you find a small table near the back of the shop, away from the kids and the counter. It’s quiet, almost private, with the hum of the freezers and the distant chatter of the other customers filling the silence. You sit across from him, carefully balancing your cup of ice cream as you take your first bite.

The first taste of dulce de leche is heavenly, the caramel sweetness melting on your tongue as the toppings add layers of texture and flavor. For a moment, it’s easy to forget about everything else — the race, the frustration, the uncertainty of it all. There’s just the ice cream, the coolness of it on your tongue, and the rare sensation of simply enjoying something without a care.

Fernando watches you with a faint smile, his own ice cream barely touched as he leans back in his chair. He doesn’t rush to fill the silence, letting you savor the moment before he finally speaks.

“So,” he says, breaking the quiet, “tell me about your situation.”

You glance up at him, the spoon pausing halfway to your mouth. There’s something in his tone, something gentle but probing, that tells you this isn’t just small talk. You lower the spoon, setting the cup down on the table as you consider how to respond.

“It’s … complicated,” you begin, though that word hardly covers it. You let out a small sigh, your shoulders slumping slightly as you lean back in your chair. “I mean, I’m doing everything I can on the track. My results speak for themselves, right? But it’s like … it’s like none of that matters.”

Fernando nods, encouraging you to continue. There’s no judgment in his eyes, just a quiet understanding, and that makes it easier to keep talking.

“Every race, I’m out there giving it everything I’ve got,” you say, your voice growing more animated as you go on. “I’m right up there with the best of them — sometimes even better. But then I look around, and I see these other drivers, guys who are barely scraping into the points, and they’ve got major sponsors backing them. They’re signed to F1 teams’ academies, they’ve got a clear path to the top. And me? I’ve got nothing. No sponsors, no academy, no security.”

You pick up your spoon again, stirring your ice cream absentmindedly as your frustration bubbles to the surface. “It’s not like I haven’t tried. My team’s tried too, but no one wants to take the risk on me. They all say the same thing — ‘You’re good, but we’re just not sure if you’re what we’re looking for.’ Which is just code for ‘You’re a girl, and we’re not willing to bet on you.’”

Fernando doesn’t interrupt, letting you vent. He’s heard stories like this before, but it never gets any easier to listen to. The sport has its issues, and while things have improved over the years, the barriers you’re facing are still all too real.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair as you shake your head. “It’s so frustrating, you know? I’m out there proving myself every single weekend, but it’s like I have to work twice as hard just to get noticed, and even then, it’s not enough. My parents — they believe in me, but they’re practically killing themselves to keep me racing. They had to take a second mortgage on the house just to get me into F3 this season. And every time I don’t get a sponsor, every time another academy passes on me, it’s like … it’s like I’m letting them down.”

Your voice cracks slightly at the end, and you quickly take another bite of ice cream, as if that can somehow keep your emotions in check. But Fernando sees the way your hand trembles just a little, the way your eyes have lost some of their fire, replaced by a weary resignation.

“It shouldn’t be this hard,” you say softly, almost to yourself. “I know the sport is tough, but it feels like I’m fighting a battle that’s rigged from the start.”

Fernando takes a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “It’s not fair,” he says, his voice steady, grounding. “You’re right, it shouldn’t be this hard. But sometimes, the fight isn’t just about winning on the track. It’s about changing the game entirely.”

You look at him, your eyes narrowing slightly as you try to gauge what he means by that. There’s something in his tone, something determined and unyielding, that makes you believe he understands more than he’s letting on.

“Changing the game?” You repeat, the words feeling heavy in your mouth.

Fernando nods, leaning forward slightly. “Yeah. Look, I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. But if anyone can do it, it’s you. You’ve got the talent, you’ve got the drive, and you’ve got something most people don’t — resilience. You’re still here, still fighting, even when the odds are against you. That says a lot.”

You bite your lip, absorbing his words. There’s a part of you that wants to believe him, that wants to hold on to that hope, but there’s also a part that’s tired — so tired of fighting an uphill battle, of always having to prove yourself over and over again.

“I just don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “What if it’s not enough? What if I’m not enough?”

Fernando’s gaze softens, and for a moment, he sees a reflection of his younger self in you, back when he was first starting out, hungry and determined but unsure of how far he could really go. The difference is, he had the backing, the opportunities that you’ve been denied.

“You are enough,” he says, his tone firm, leaving no room for doubt. “The problem isn’t with you. It’s with the system, with the people who are too scared to see things differently. But that doesn’t mean you stop. You keep pushing, keep showing them what they’re missing. And if they can’t see it, then we’ll make them see it.”

You blink, surprised by the intensity in his voice. There’s a conviction there that’s hard to ignore, a belief in you that you’ve been struggling to find in yourself.

“We?” You ask, your voice tinged with cautious hope.

Fernando smiles, a small, determined curve of his lips. “We. You’re not alone in this. I’ve been where you are, in a different way, but I know what it’s like to have to fight for everything. And I know what it’s like to have someone in your corner who believes in you.”

You stare at him, processing his words, the implications of what he’s offering. There’s a warmth in your chest, a spark of something that feels dangerously close to hope.

“So what now?” You ask, your voice steadier.

Fernando leans back in his chair, his gaze never leaving yours as he takes a thoughtful bite of his ice cream. There's a moment of silence, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between you, before he finally speaks, his voice calm but resolute.

"Now?" He sets his cone down on the table, his expression sharpening with purpose. "I make some calls."

***

It’s been a few weeks since that day at the ice cream shop, and Fernando hasn’t been able to shake the conversation from his mind. He’s been in the sport long enough to know how things work, but hearing it from you, seeing how the system has worn you down despite your undeniable talent, it struck a nerve. It’s been a whirlwind of phone calls, favors cashed in, and quiet meetings behind closed doors. But now, standing at the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport, Fernando knows it’s all been worth it.

You come into view, wheeling your carry-on behind you, your eyes scanning the crowd until they land on him. A look of surprise crosses your face, quickly replaced by a hesitant smile as you make your way over.

“Hey,” you greet him, a mix of confusion and curiosity in your voice as you pull your suitcase to a stop beside him. “So … what’s this all about?”

Fernando just grins, taking the handle of your suitcase from you with a casualness that leaves no room for argument. “You’ll see,” he says, cryptic as ever. “Come on, the car’s this way.”

You follow him out to the parking garage, throwing him sideways glances, clearly trying to piece together what he’s up to. Fernando’s only response is an amused smile as he opens the door for you, waiting until you’re settled in the passenger seat before loading your luggage in the trunk.

As he pulls out of the airport and merges onto the highway, the silence between you is comfortable but charged with anticipation. You keep glancing over at him, your curiosity growing with every mile.

“You’re not going to tell me where we’re going, are you?” You finally ask, your tone hovering between teasing and exasperation.

Fernando chuckles, shaking his head. “Nope.”

You sigh, leaning back in your seat, but there’s a glimmer of excitement in your eyes that wasn’t there before. “I’m trusting you, you know,” you say, half-joking, half-serious.

“And you won’t regret it,” he promises, the confidence in his voice almost contagious.

The drive is longer than you expected, taking you out of London and into the countryside. The scenery shifts from the urban sprawl to green fields and quaint villages, the roads becoming narrower and winding as they head deeper into the heart of England. It’s not until Fernando takes a turn down a private road, leading to a sleek, modern complex surrounded by high fences, that you begin to piece it together.

“This can’t be …” you start, your voice trailing off as the full realization hits you. “Is this-”

“Mercedes HQ,” Fernando confirms with a grin as he pulls up to the security gate. He rolls down the window, exchanging a few words with the guard, who quickly waves them through.

You’re silent as he drives into the parking lot, your eyes wide as you take in the sight of the Mercedes-AMG F1 Factory. It’s one thing to see it on TV or in photos, but to be here, in person, is something else entirely. Fernando parks the car and turns to you, catching the look on your face.

“Nervous?” He asks, though he already knows the answer.

“A little,” you admit, swallowing hard as you unbuckle your seatbelt. “Okay, a lot.”

He chuckles, getting out of the car and coming around to your side to open the door for you. “Don’t be. You belong here.”

You hesitate, still processing everything, before nodding and stepping out of the car. Fernando grabs your suitcase from the trunk, but you barely notice, too busy taking in your surroundings as he leads you toward the entrance.

The interior of the building is just as impressive as the outside — modern, sleek, and buzzing with energy. Everywhere you look, there are people in team gear, some hurrying between offices, others deep in conversation. And then, as if the situation couldn’t get more surreal, Lewis Hamilton appears in the lobby, flanked by Toto Wolff.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you stop dead in your tracks. Fernando pauses beside you, a knowing smile on his face as he watches your reaction.

“Fernando,” Lewis greets, his smile widening when he sees you standing next to him. “And you must be the young driver I’ve been hearing so much about.”

You manage a nod, but words seem to have escaped you entirely. It’s not every day that you come face-to-face with a five-time world champion and the team principal of the most successful F1 team of the modern era.

Lewis chuckles at your speechlessness, his demeanor as relaxed and approachable as ever. “Don’t worry, we don’t bite,” he says, extending his hand. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

You shake his hand, your own grip slightly shaky. “I … It’s an honor,” you stammer, your voice finally finding its way back to you.

Toto steps forward next, offering his hand as well. “Welcome to Brackley,” he says, his tone warm but with the same underlying intensity that’s made him such a formidable figure in the sport. “Fernando’s told us a lot about you.”

You glance over at Fernando, a mix of gratitude and disbelief in your eyes. This is so far beyond anything you could have imagined when you first got his call.

Lewis gestures for you to follow him down a hallway, with Toto and Fernando close behind. “When Fernando reached out to me,” Lewis begins, his tone casual but sincere, “and told me about your situation, I knew we had to do something. Talent like yours shouldn’t be held back by anything, least of all by something as ridiculous as a lack of sponsorship.”

You’re still reeling from the fact that Lewis Hamilton knows who you are, let alone that he’s gone out of his way to help you. “I … I don’t even know what to say,” you admit, your voice soft with emotion.

“Don’t worry about that just yet,” Toto says from behind you, his tone light. “Let’s get you settled in first.”

You follow them through the labyrinth of hallways, trying to absorb everything at once. Fernando stays close, a steady presence as you make your way deeper into the facility. There’s a sense of purpose in the air, a kind of quiet determination that’s palpable even as people move around with the calm efficiency of a well-oiled machine.

Eventually, Lewis stops outside a conference room, holding the door open for you to enter first. You step inside, the space cool and sleek, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a view of the meticulously kept grounds outside. A large table dominates the center of the room, and as you approach, you notice a folder sitting at one end, the Mercedes logo embossed on the cover.

You hover near the table, not daring to sit until someone tells you to. Fernando catches your hesitation, nudging you gently in the direction of a chair. “Go on,” he says softly. “This is for you.”

You sink into the chair, your heart pounding as you look at the folder in front of you. Lewis and Toto take seats across from you, with Fernando settling in beside you. The atmosphere in the room shifts slightly, becoming more formal but no less supportive.

Toto reaches for the folder, sliding it across the table to you. “This,” he begins, his voice calm and measured, “is an offer to join the Mercedes Junior Team.”

You blink, sure you must have misheard him. “The … Mercedes Junior Team?”

Lewis smiles, nodding. “We believe in your potential,” he says simply. “And we want to give you the opportunity to develop that potential to the fullest.”

Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for the folder, your mind racing. This is it. This is the chance you’ve been fighting for, the one you never thought would come, at least not like this. You open the folder, your eyes scanning the first few lines of the contract inside. It’s all real — your name, the terms, everything.

“We know it’s a big decision,” Toto continues, his gaze steady on you. “Take your time to go through everything, ask any questions you have. But know that we’re serious about this. We want you on our team.”

You’re overwhelmed, the weight of the moment pressing down on you, but it’s a good kind of pressure, the kind that comes from knowing you’re on the verge of something life-changing. You look up at Fernando, who’s been watching you quietly, and there’s a look of pride in his eyes that makes your chest tighten.

“I don’t … I don’t even know where to start,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lewis leans forward slightly, his expression gentle but serious. “Start by believing that you deserve this,” he says. “Because you do. And we’re here to help you every step of the way.”

There’s a long silence as you let his words sink in, your fingers tracing the edge of the folder. This is everything you’ve been working toward, everything you’ve sacrificed for, and now that it’s here in front of you, it feels almost too good to be true.

But as you look around the table — at Lewis, Toto, and Fernando — you realize that this isn’t just a dream. It’s real. They’re offering you a future, a chance to prove yourself at the highest level, and they believe in you enough to make it happen.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself before meeting their gazes again. “I … I don’t know how to thank you,” you say, your voice thick with emotion.

“There’s no need for thanks,” Toto says with a small smile. “Just show us what you can do.”

Fernando places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, his voice low and encouraging. “You’ve already done the hard part. Now, it’s just time to make it official.”

You nod, the weight of the contract in your hands feeling lighter now. “I’m ready,” you say, your voice steadying with newfound resolve.

Lewis grins. “Welcome to the team.”

***

The months following your signing with Mercedes have been a whirlwind. Every day brings something new — testing, meetings, media obligations, training sessions — but through it all, Fernando remains a constant presence. He’s there for every debrief, every important conversation, and when he’s not by your side, he’s only a phone call away. The mentorship he offers is invaluable, not just because of his experience but because of his belief in you.

Today, though, feels different. The season is winding down, and you’ve been expecting a bit of a lull, maybe even some time to catch your breath. But when Fernando calls you to meet him at a quiet café on the outskirts of town, there’s a certain energy in his voice that you can’t quite place.

You arrive at the café to find Fernando already seated at a table near the window, his sunglasses pushed up onto his head and a cup of coffee in front of him. He looks up as you approach, a small, almost secretive smile playing on his lips.

“Morning,” you greet him, sliding into the seat opposite. “You’re up to something, I can tell.”

Fernando chuckles, taking a sip of his coffee before setting the cup down. “Maybe I am,” he says, his tone teasing but warm. “How are you feeling about next season?”

The question catches you off guard. “Next season? I mean, I haven’t really thought that far ahead yet. There’s still so much to do now.”

He nods, leaning back in his chair as he studies you, a hint of something more serious in his gaze. “Well, it’s time to start thinking about it,” he says, pulling an envelope from his jacket pocket and sliding it across the table to you.

You raise an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued as you reach for the envelope. “What’s this?”

“Open it,” Fernando encourages, his eyes never leaving yours.

You do as he says, your fingers careful as you tear open the envelope. Inside is a single sheet of paper, neatly folded. You unfold it slowly, your eyes scanning the top of the page.

Carlin Motorsport — Formula 2 Contract Offer.

Your breath catches, and you look up at Fernando, disbelief written all over your face. “Is this … real?”

“Very real,” he confirms, his smile widening. “They want you for next season. Full-time seat, competitive car, the whole package.”

You’re speechless for a moment, the weight of the offer sinking in. Carlin is one of the top teams in Formula 2, a proven stepping stone to Formula 1, and they want you. It’s everything you’ve been working toward, but the reality of it is almost overwhelming.

“This is …” you start, your voice trailing off as you try to find the right words. “I don’t even know what to say.”

He reaches across the table, placing his hand over yours, his expression softening. “You’ve earned this,” he says, his voice gentle but firm. “You’ve worked hard, proven yourself, and now it’s time to take the next step.”

You nod, still trying to wrap your head around it all. “But how? I mean, why would they choose me over anyone else? There are so many talented drivers out there …”

Fernando squeezes your hand, drawing your attention back to him. “Because you’re one of the best,” he says simply. “They see it, just like I do. And they know you’re going places.”

You take a deep breath, the reality of it finally starting to settle in. “Carlin … Formula 2 … It’s really happening.”

“It is,” Fernando confirms with a smile. “And you’re ready for it.”

There’s a long pause as you sit there, the contract still in your hands. Fernando watches you carefully, his gaze thoughtful. Then, as if sensing that there’s something more to discuss, he leans in slightly, lowering his voice.

“There’s something else I need to tell you,” he says, his tone shifting to something more serious.

You look up, your heart skipping a beat at the sudden change in his demeanor. “What is it?”

He hesitates for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “I’m planning to return to Formula 1 in 2021.”

The news hits you like a bolt of lightning, your eyes widening in shock. “You’re … coming back? To F1?”

Fernando nods, his expression unreadable. “Yes. I’ve been in talks with a few teams, and it looks like everything is lining up for a comeback.”

You’re stunned, your mind racing to catch up with what he’s just said. Fernando Alonso, returning to Formula 1 … it’s huge, and the implications of it start to sink in. “That’s incredible,” you say, a mix of excitement and apprehension in your voice. “But what does that mean for … us? For everything we’ve been working on?”

He’s silent for a moment, his gaze intense as he considers your question. “It means that while I’ll still be around to support you, I won’t be able to be as hands-on as I’ve been. I won’t be able to be your full-time manager anymore.”

The words hit you hard, and you feel a pang of anxiety start to creep in. Fernando’s been your rock, the one who’s guided you through every step of this journey, and the thought of losing that constant presence is unsettling.

“But,” he continues, his tone reassuring, “I’m not leaving you in the lurch. I’ve already started talking to some people, and I’m going to make sure you get a manager who’s the best of the best. Someone who knows the sport inside and out, who can give you everything you need to succeed.”

You nod slowly, trying to process everything he’s telling you. It’s a lot to take in— the offer from Carlin, Fernando’s return to F1, the changes that will come with it — but there’s a part of you that understands. This is the nature of the sport, constantly evolving, constantly moving forward.

“I’m happy for you,” you finally say, your voice sincere. “Really, I am. You deserve to be back in F1, where you belong.”

Fernando smiles, a genuine warmth in his eyes. “Thank you. And you deserve to be in F2, racing at the front, showing everyone what you’re capable of.”

There’s a pause, the weight of the moment settling over both of you. Then, Fernando’s smile turns a bit more mischievous as he leans back in his chair.

“But don’t think this means I’m going to go easy on you,” he says, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I’ll still be watching, making sure you’re giving it your all.”

You laugh, the tension breaking slightly at his words. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

He nods, satisfied, before finishing off his coffee. “Good. Because the hard work isn’t over yet. If anything, it’s just beginning.”

You take a deep breath, feeling a renewed sense of determination settling over you. Fernando’s right — this is just the beginning. The road ahead will be challenging, but you’re ready for it. And with his support, even if it’s from a distance, you know you can handle whatever comes your way.

“Thank you,” you say again, your voice full of gratitude. “For everything.”

Fernando just smiles, standing up from the table and offering you his hand. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s get out of here. We’ve got a lot to prepare for.”

You take his hand, rising from your seat, and together you leave the café, the future stretching out before you, full of possibilities.

***

The hum of the F2 paddock is a mix of nerves and excitement, a constant undercurrent of energy that seems to electrify the air. It’s the first race of the season, and you can feel it. The mechanics are moving with purpose, checking and double-checking every detail of the car. Engineers are glued to their screens, analyzing data with furrowed brows. And you, in the midst of it all, are the picture of focus — calm on the outside but with a fire in your eyes that tells Fernando you’re ready for this.

He stands a few feet away, leaning casually against the garage wall, but his eyes are on you. Always on you. He’s seen you grow over these past months, watched as you’ve taken every challenge head-on, and now, as you prepare for your first F2 race, he can’t help but feel a surge of pride.

Yuki Tsunoda, your teammate, walks over, helmet in hand. He’s grinning, but there’s a trace of awe in his expression as he glances between you and Fernando. “I still can’t believe it,” Yuki says, shaking his head slightly. “Fernando Alonso, here in our garage, supporting you. It’s surreal.”

You chuckle, giving Yuki a playful nudge with your elbow. “Believe it. He’s stuck with me now.”

Fernando smirks, pushing off the wall and walking over to the two of you. “Yuki, how are you feeling about today?” He asks, his tone friendly but professional.

Yuki straightens up, clearly wanting to impress. “I’m ready. I’ve been looking forward to this all off-season. Just want to get out there and race.”

“Good,” Fernando nods, his eyes sharp as he assesses Yuki. “Remember, the first race sets the tone. Keep your head down, focus on your own performance, and the results will come.”

Yuki nods, absorbing the advice. “And you?” He asks, turning back to you. “First F2 race … How are you feeling?”

You shrug, but there’s a determined glint in your eyes. “Excited. Nervous. Ready. All of it.”

Fernando can’t help but smile at that. He’s seen that look in countless drivers — right before they go on to do something special. “You’ve got this,” he says, his voice low but full of conviction. “Just do what you do best.”

You give him a small, appreciative smile before turning back to the car, where the final preparations are being made. Fernando watches you for a moment longer, feeling the weight of the day. This is a big moment, not just for you, but for him too. He’s invested so much in you, not just as a driver but as a person, and now he’s about to see the fruits of that labor on one of the biggest stages.

Yuki eventually heads back to his side of the garage, leaving you and Fernando in a comfortable silence. He steps closer to you, lowering his voice so only you can hear. “Remember, it’s just another race. Don’t let the pressure get to you. You’ve done this a hundred times before.”

You nod, your expression set with determination. “I know. I just need to stay focused.”

“Exactly,” Fernando agrees, his hand resting briefly on your shoulder. “And remember, I’m here. You’re not doing this alone.”

There’s a brief moment of silence between you, the noise of the paddock fading slightly as you take in his words. It’s a reassurance, a reminder that no matter what happens out there, you have someone in your corner who believes in you completely.

The minutes tick by, and soon it’s time for the drivers to head to the grid. The mechanics push your car out of the garage, and you follow, helmet in hand, Fernando right by your side. As you walk, he gives you last-minute reminders, his tone calm but firm, designed to keep you centered.

“Trust your instincts,” he says. “You know the car, you know the track. Let the race come to you.”

You nod, absorbing every word as you approach your car on the grid. The other teams and drivers are milling about, final checks being made before the start. Fernando stands with you by the car, watching as you put on your helmet and climb into the cockpit. There’s a buzz of activity all around, but for a moment, it feels like it’s just the two of you.

He leans in close, his voice carrying over the sound of the grid. “Remember why you’re here. Show them what you’re made of.”

You glance up at him, your visor reflecting the intense determination in your eyes. “I will.”

And with that, the crew steps back, and it’s just you in the car, the engine roaring to life around you. Fernando takes a few steps back, watching as you complete the formation lap. His heart pounds in his chest, a mix of nerves and anticipation. He’s been in this position countless times, but it’s different when it’s someone you’ve invested so much in.

As the cars line up on the grid, the tension mounts. Fernando’s eyes never leave your car, his mind running through every possible scenario. He knows how unpredictable these races can be, how one small mistake can change everything. But he also knows that you’re ready. He’s seen it in your training, in your focus, in the way you’ve handled every challenge thrown at you.

The lights go out, and the roar of engines fills the air. The race is on, and Fernando’s eyes are locked on the screen, watching as you navigate the chaos of the first few corners. It’s a tight pack, cars jostling for position, but you hold your ground, staying calm and composed even as the pressure builds.

Fernando barely breathes as the laps tick by, his focus entirely on you. There are moments where his heart leaps into his throat — close calls, tight overtakes — but you handle them all with the skill and precision of a seasoned driver. You’re pushing, but not too hard, balancing aggression with caution in a way that impresses even him.

Midway through the race, you find yourself in a battle for position with one of the more experienced drivers. Fernando can see the tension in your driving, the way you’re pushing the car to its limits. But he also sees the intelligence in your approach, the way you’re sizing up your opponent, waiting for the right moment.

“Come on,” he mutters under his breath, his eyes glued to the screen as you make your move. It’s a daring pass, squeezing through a gap that’s barely there, but you make it stick. Fernando lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re doing it,” he whispers to himself, pride swelling in his chest.

The race continues, the intensity never letting up. There are moments of sheer brilliance, and moments where Fernando’s nerves are stretched to their limits, but through it all, you remain unshaken. Every lap, every corner, you’re proving exactly why you belong here, why Carlin chose you, and why Fernando believes in you so much.

As the race nears its end, you find yourself in a strong position, battling for a spot on the podium. Fernando’s heart pounds in his chest, his hands clenched into fists as he watches the final laps unfold. It’s a nail-biter, the cars ahead of you just within reach, and he can see you pushing, giving it everything you’ve got.

“Come on, come on,” he murmurs, his eyes never leaving the screen. “You’ve got this.”

The final lap is a blur of speed and adrenaline, but you’re right there, closing in on the car ahead. Fernando can feel the tension in the air, the entire Carlin garage on edge as they watch you make your move. It’s a daring overtake, one that requires absolute precision, but you nail it, sliding into third place just before the final corner.

Fernando’s heart leaps as you cross the finish line, securing a podium in your very first F2 race. The garage erupts in cheers, but he’s already moving, heading out to meet you as you bring the car back to the pits.

When you climb out of the car, the smile on your face is all he needs to see. You did it. You proved yourself, and in a big way. Fernando is the first to reach you, pulling you into a tight hug, his voice full of pride.

“You were incredible out there,” he says, his words muffled slightly by the cheers around you. “Absolutely incredible.”

You pull back, your eyes shining with excitement. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

He shakes his head, his smile wide. “You did this. You took everything you’ve learned and you made it happen. This is just the beginning.”

Yuki comes over, grinning from ear to ear as he claps you on the back. “Third place in your first race? You’re making the rest of us look bad!”

You laugh, the tension of the race finally melting away as you share the moment with your teammate and mentor. But even as you celebrate, Fernando’s mind is already thinking ahead, planning for the future. This is just the first step, and he knows there are many more to come. But for now, he’s content to stand here with you, knowing that you’ve just taken a huge leap forward in your career.

As the celebrations continue around you, Fernando steps back, watching you with a mixture of pride and anticipation. He’s seen something special in you from the start, and today, you proved him right. But he knows this is just the beginning, and he can’t wait to see where this journey takes you

***

Fernando sits at the head of a sleek conference table in a high-rise office overlooking a bustling cityscape. The room is all glass and steel, exuding an air of professionalism and success. It’s the kind of setting where big decisions are made, the kind of setting where lives are changed. He glances at his watch — just a few minutes before you’re supposed to arrive.

To his left is a man in his late forties, dressed in a sharp suit that screams old money and prestige. This is Carlos Mendes, a veteran in the world of motorsport management. Carlos has a reputation for being ruthless when it comes to getting his clients the best deals.

He’s represented world champions, negotiated multimillion-dollar contracts, and navigated the treacherous waters of sponsorships with the skill of a seasoned general. Fernando had carefully chosen Carlos, knowing that you would need someone who could not only protect your interests but also push for the best opportunities.

On Fernando’s right is Sophie Duclair, a high-powered talent agent whose client list reads like a who’s who of global sports and entertainment icons. Sophie, with her sleek bob and impeccably tailored outfit, is known for her ability to secure top-tier endorsement deals that go beyond the traditional boundaries of sports.

Luxury brands, fashion houses, and even Hollywood producers trust her judgment implicitly. She’s the one who can take your rising star and catapult it into a whole different stratosphere.

The door to the conference room opens, and you walk in, dressed casually but with an unmistakable air of confidence. It’s clear you’ve grown more comfortable in these kinds of environments, but there’s still a trace of curiosity in your eyes as you take in the room and the people seated at the table.

“Good to see you,” Fernando says, rising to greet you with a warm smile. He motions to the empty chair next to him. “Take a seat. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

You sit down, glancing at Carlos and Sophie with polite curiosity. Fernando leans back in his chair, folding his hands on the table. “Let me introduce you to Carlos Mendes,” he says, gesturing to the man on his left. “Carlos is one of the top managers in the business. He’s going to help guide your career from here on out, making sure you get the best opportunities on and off the track.”

Carlos nods, his expression serious but welcoming. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says in a deep, authoritative voice. “Fernando has told me a lot about you, and I’ve been following your progress. You’ve got a bright future ahead, and I’m here to make sure you reach your full potential.”

You smile, a mix of gratitude and anticipation in your eyes. “Thank you. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

Fernando continues, turning to Sophie. “And this is Sophie Duclair, one of the best talent agents in the industry. Sophie has a knack for securing deals that align perfectly with her clients’ personal brands. She’s here to help you navigate the world of endorsements and partnerships.”

Sophie smiles, her demeanor warm yet professional. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” she says, her voice smooth and confident. “I’ve been keeping an eye on your rise in F2, and I have to say, the opportunities are endless. There are brands out there who are going to want to associate themselves with your story, your talent, and your image.”

You nod, clearly intrigued but still processing the magnitude of what’s happening. Fernando notices the slight furrow in your brow and steps in to guide the conversation.

“Here’s the thing,” Fernando begins, his tone serious but encouraging. “You’ve been fighting against the odds, and that’s what’s made your story so compelling. A lot of people might have seen your gender as an obstacle, but we’re turning it into an asset. You’ve already proven you belong in F2, and with the right guidance, we’re going to show the world that you’re not just a great driver — you’re a game-changer.”

Carlos leans forward slightly, his eyes focused on you. “Exactly. The motorsport world is evolving, and brands want to be associated with that evolution. They want to be seen as forward-thinking, inclusive, and ahead of the curve. You’re in a unique position to offer them that opportunity.”

Sophie picks up the thread seamlessly. “But it’s not just about slapping a logo on your car or your race suit. It’s about aligning with brands that resonate with who you are and where you want to go. That’s where I come in. I’ve been in talks with several companies that are very interested in working with you.”

You look at Fernando, and he gives you an encouraging nod, urging you to speak your mind. “It sounds … amazing,” you begin, your voice steady but thoughtful. “But I want to make sure that whatever deals we make, they’re the right ones. I don’t want to just be a face on an ad — I want to represent something real.”

Carlos smiles, clearly impressed by your maturity. “That’s the right approach. And that’s exactly why we’re here — to make sure that every move we make is strategic and meaningful. You’ve got the talent and the story, and now it’s about building the brand that reflects that.”

Sophie leans back in her chair, crossing her legs as she regards you with a calculating but friendly gaze. “We’ve already secured two deals that I think you’re going to be very happy with,” she says, a hint of excitement in her voice. “The first is with Cartier. They’re looking to expand their presence in the sports world, and they see you as the perfect ambassador for their brand — strong, elegant, and determined.”

Your eyes widen slightly, clearly surprised. “Cartier?” You echo, the name alone carrying a weight of prestige and luxury.

Sophie nods, smiling at your reaction. “That’s right. They want to work with you on a campaign that’s going to be centered around breaking barriers and redefining what it means to be successful. It’s not just about jewelry — it’s about the story you tell when you wear it.”

Fernando watches as you process this, seeing the mix of excitement and caution in your expression. He knows how big this is, and he also knows how important it is for you to feel comfortable with every step of this journey.

“And the second deal?” You ask, your voice steady but tinged with curiosity.

Sophie’s smile widens. “That would be with Chanel. They’re launching a new line of sportswear, and they want you to be the face of it. It’s a bold move for them, branching out into a market that’s traditionally been dominated by other brands. But they believe in you, and they believe that you can help them make a statement.”

You lean back in your chair, clearly taking a moment to absorb the magnitude of what’s being offered. Fernando can see the wheels turning in your mind, the careful consideration you’re giving to each opportunity.

“I … I didn’t expect anything like this,” you admit, looking around the table. “It’s incredible, but it’s also a lot to take in.”

Carlos nods, his expression understanding. “It is. But you’re not in this alone. We’re here to guide you, to make sure that every decision you make is the right one for you and your career.”

Fernando leans forward slightly, his voice low and reassuring. “You’ve worked hard to get here. You deserve these opportunities. But like Carlos said, we’re going to make sure that every step you take is the right one. We’re not rushing into anything. We’re building something that’s going to last.”

You look at him, and he can see the trust in your eyes. It’s a trust he’s earned over the months, through every piece of advice, every word of encouragement, every push to make you better. And now, as you sit here on the brink of something huge, he feels a deep sense of pride.

“These are just the first steps,” Sophie says, her tone confident and poised. “There’s so much more we can do. But it’s all going to be on your terms. You’re in control of your image, your brand. We’re just here to help you shape it.”

You take a deep breath, your gaze sweeping over the table, taking in the faces of the people who are now part of your team. “I want to do this right,” you say finally, your voice strong. “I want to be someone people can look up to, someone who represents more than just winning races.”

Fernando smiles, feeling a swell of pride at your words. “And that’s exactly what you’re going to do. We’re just getting started.”

The meeting continues, the conversation shifting to the details of the contracts, the timelines for the campaigns, and the strategies for maximizing your visibility. Throughout it all, Fernando watches you closely, noting the way you handle the discussions with a mix of humility and confidence. It’s clear you’re taking everything in, asking the right questions, making sure you understand every aspect of what’s being presented.

By the time the meeting wraps up, there’s a palpable sense of excitement in the room. The deals with Cartier and Chanel are just the beginning, and everyone knows it. There are more opportunities on the horizon, more doors that are about to open. But for now, it’s about taking the first steps, setting the foundation for what’s to come.

As you rise to leave, Fernando walks you to the door, Carlos and Sophie following close behind. “We’ll be in touch with the final details,” Sophie says, her tone professional but warm. “I’m excited to see where this journey takes us.”

Carlos nods in agreement. “You’ve got a bright future ahead. Let’s make the most of it.”

You thank them both, turning to Fernando with a smile that holds a mix of gratitude and determination. "I couldn’t have done this without you," you say softly.

Fernando shakes his head, his smile reflecting the pride he feels. "You’ve earned every bit of this. Now, let's show the world what you’re capable of."

***

The sun dips low over the suburban skyline, casting a warm golden hue over the backyard where laughter mingles with the clinking of glasses and the low hum of conversation. String lights hang from the trees, swaying gently in the evening breeze, and the faint scent of barbecue lingers in the air. You’re surrounded by familiar faces — family, childhood friends, and the newer ones you’ve made in F2. The mix of old and new feels right, like the pieces of your life are finally coming together.

Fernando stands near the edge of the crowd, leaning casually against a tree as he watches you. He’s been here for hours, blending in with the celebration, though he’s always slightly apart, his presence comforting but never overbearing. He’s wearing one of those half-smiles, the kind that makes it hard to tell if he’s deep in thought or just quietly enjoying the moment.

You catch his eye, and he raises his glass — a silent toast that you return with a small grin before getting pulled back into a conversation with one of your childhood friends. They’re reminiscing about old times, laughing about things that seem so far removed from the high-speed world you now inhabit. It’s nice, grounding even, to remember that you had a life before all of this — a simpler one where the biggest concern was which video game to play after school.

As the night wears on, the crowd begins to thin. Your parents are still mingling, clearly proud of the party they’ve thrown. Your mom’s voice carries across the yard as she gushes to someone about how happy she is that you’ve managed to pay off the second mortgage. It was a weight that they never let you see, but you knew it was there, and being able to lift it was one of the proudest moments you’ve had since stepping into a race car.

Fernando, ever observant, notices the moment your shoulders relax as you hear your mom’s words. He takes a small step forward, knowing that the night is winding down, and he’s been waiting for just the right moment.

Eventually, as the last of your friends hug you goodbye and head out, you find yourself standing near the fire pit, the glow from the dying embers illuminating your face. Fernando approaches, his hands casually tucked into his pockets.

“Enjoying your birthday?” He asks, his voice low and warm, like the crackling fire beside you.

You nod, a content smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Yeah, it’s been really great. I didn’t expect so many people to show up.”

“People care about you,” Fernando says simply. “You’ve made quite an impact.”

You shrug, clearly a little shy about the praise. “I’m just glad to have a night to relax with everyone. It’s been a whirlwind.”

Fernando’s smile deepens. He knows how hard you’ve worked, how much you’ve sacrificed, and how rare these moments of peace are for you. “You deserve it. You’ve earned it.”

There’s a beat of silence, comfortable and familiar, before Fernando clears his throat. “I, uh, have something for you.”

You turn to look at him, your brow furrowing slightly. “Fernando, you didn’t have to get me anything. You’ve already done so much.”

“I know,” he says, his tone a little softer now, as if he’s stepping into more vulnerable territory. “But I wanted to.”

He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small box, wrapped in simple but elegant paper. You hesitate for a moment, then take it from his hands, the weight of it feeling heavier than it should.

Curiosity piques as you carefully unwrap the paper and open the box. Inside is a delicate necklace, the pendant a tiny, intricate race helmet studded with a single diamond where the visor would be. It’s not overly flashy, but it’s beautiful and unmistakably meaningful.

You stare at it, speechless, before looking up at Fernando, your eyes wide with surprise and something deeper — something like awe. “Fernando … this is …”

He cuts you off with a gentle shake of his head. “You don’t have to say anything. I just … wanted you to have something that reminds you of where you’re headed. You’ve got a bright future, and I wanted to give you something to keep close as you chase it.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blink them away, focusing on the necklace instead. You’re not sure what to say — how do you thank someone for something that goes beyond just a gift?

Fernando steps closer, his voice lowering as he continues, “I’ve come to see you as … well, like a daughter, I suppose. Watching you grow, seeing how far you’ve come, it’s been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. I just wanted to show you how much you mean to me.”

Your heart swells with emotion, and before you can stop yourself, you step forward and wrap your arms around him, pressing your face into his chest. The necklace is still clutched in your hand, but all you can focus on is the steady beat of Fernando’s heart against your ear.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice muffled but sincere. “For everything.”

Fernando’s arms come around you, holding you close in a way that’s both protective and comforting. “You don’t have to thank me,” he murmurs. “Just keep doing what you’re doing. That’s all the thanks I need.”

You stay like that for a moment longer, taking in the warmth and security of the embrace, before finally pulling back. You look up at Fernando, and there’s a connection between you now that goes beyond mentor and protégé — it’s something familial, something lasting.

He gestures to the necklace, a small smile playing on his lips. “Do you want some help putting that on?”

You nod, unable to find the words, and hand it to him. He carefully fastens it around your neck, his fingers steady and sure, and when he’s done, you reach up to touch the pendant, feeling its cool metal against your skin.

“Perfect,” Fernando says, stepping back to admire it. “Just like you.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “You’re too kind.”

“No,” he replies, his voice firm but gentle. “Just honest.”

As the fire continues to crackle beside you, the night wrapping around you both like a blanket, you realize that this birthday, this moment, will be one you remember for the rest of your life. Not because of the party or the people, but because of the man standing beside you — the one who believed in you when no one else did, who gave you the push you needed to keep going.

And as you walk back towards the house, the pendant resting against your chest, you know that no matter what happens in the future, you’ll always have this — this connection, this bond, this family you’ve found in the most unexpected place.

***

The noise is deafening as you cross the finish line, but it’s the silence that follows in your mind that makes it real. The world blurs around you; the roar of the engine fades, the cheers from the grandstands become a distant echo. It’s just you and the knowledge that you’ve done it. The chequered flag waves in the distance, a confirmation that you’ve won the F2 championship.

In your rookie season.

The last lap plays on a loop in your mind: the battle with your teammate, the wheel-to-wheel tension that stretched until the final corner, the moment you finally saw a gap and took it. The entire year has been leading up to this, every race, every struggle, every doubt. And now, you’re here. A champion.

The car slows as you pull into the pit lane, your hands shaking on the steering wheel. The radio crackles with voices — your engineer shouting congratulations, the team cheering, but there’s only one voice you really want to hear.

“You did it,” Fernando comes through, calm but with a hint of emotion that he rarely shows. “I knew you could do it.”

A smile breaks across your face, one that you couldn’t suppress even if you tried. “We did it,” you correct him, because it’s true. You’ve always been a team, even when he wasn’t on the track with you.

As you roll into the Carlin garage, the world around you explodes into celebration. Mechanics, engineers, and team members swarm the car, cheering and clapping as they pull you out of the cockpit. You’re immediately wrapped in a dozen hugs, people shouting your name, lifting you off the ground in their excitement.

But even in the chaos, you’re searching for him. And when you finally spot Fernando standing just outside the crowd, his expression is one of pure pride. He doesn’t rush in to join the others, instead, he stays back, letting you have your moment. That’s Fernando, always understanding, always knowing exactly what you need.

You finally push through the throng of well-wishers and make your way over to him. For a moment, the two of you just look at each other, and in that look, there’s a thousand words unspoken.

“Not bad for a rookie,” he finally says, his smile widening.

You laugh, still breathless from the race. “Not bad at all.”

He pulls you into a hug, and this time, you don’t hold back. You cling to him, letting the emotion of the moment wash over you. “Thank you,” you whisper, and you know he understands. This victory is as much his as it is yours.

When you pull back, you see someone else approaching from the corner of your eye. It’s Toto Wolff, towering and imposing as always, but there’s a warmth in his expression that’s almost fatherly. Next to him, Williams Racing team principal Jost Capito, stands with a smile that’s equally as proud.

“Toto?” You ask, surprised. It’s not every day he shows up in the F2 paddock, let alone after a race.

He steps forward, offering his hand. “Congratulations,” he says, his voice steady. “That was an incredible race.”

You shake his hand, still trying to process the fact that he’s here. “Thank you,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

Jost steps forward, nodding in agreement. “You’ve had an outstanding season. You’ve shown everyone what you’re capable of.”

There’s something in their tone, something that makes your heart race with more than just post-race adrenaline. Fernando catches your eye, giving you a slight nod, as if to say, this is it.

Toto exchanges a look with Jost before continuing, “We’ve been following your progress closely, and we believe you’re ready for the next step.”

Your breath catches in your throat. The next step. It’s what every F2 driver dreams of, but it’s never guaranteed, not even with a championship under your belt. “The next step?” You echo, almost afraid to hope.

Jost steps in, his smile widening. “We want you to race for Williams in Formula 1 next season.”

For a moment, the world stops. You blink, trying to process the words, to make sure you heard him right. Formula 1. They want you to race in F1.

“Next season?” You manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Toto nods, his expression serious but encouraging. “Yes. We’ve been in discussions with Williams, and we believe you’re the perfect fit for their team. You’ve proven that you can handle the pressure, and now it’s time to see what you can do on the biggest stage.”

You feel like you’re floating, like this is a dream that you might wake up from at any moment. You turn to Fernando, searching his face for confirmation that this is real. He’s smiling, but there’s a look in his eyes that tells you he’s known about this for a while. He’s always known.

“You’ll be racing in F1,” Fernando says, his voice steady. “You deserve it.”

It’s then that the full weight of what’s happening hits you. F1. The pinnacle of motorsport. And not just racing in F1, but racing alongside the very best in the world. You’ll be on the grid with drivers you’ve looked up to your entire life. Drivers like Lewis Hamilton. And …

Your eyes widen as the realization dawns. Fernando is making his comeback next year. He’s going to be on that grid, too.

“I’ll be racing … with you,” you say, the words barely escaping your lips.

Fernando’s smile is knowing, almost amused. “Yes, you will.”

The thought is almost overwhelming. Not only will you be in F1, but you’ll be competing alongside Fernando, the man who has been your mentor, your guide, your biggest supporter. The man who helped you get to this very moment.

You shake your head, still trying to process it all. “I don’t know what to say.”

Toto places a hand on your shoulder, his grip reassuring. “You don’t need to say anything. Just be ready to show the world what you’re capable of. We’ll handle the rest.”

Jost nods in agreement. “We believe in you. You’ve already proven that you can handle anything that comes your way.”

You glance back at Fernando, and the pride in his eyes is unmistakable. This has been his goal all along — to get you to the top, to see you succeed where so many doubted you could. And now, here you are, about to step into the world of F1.

“I’ll be ready,” you say, your voice stronger now, filled with the determination that’s carried you this far.

Fernando nods, satisfied. “I know you will.”

As Toto and Jost step away to discuss the finer details with the Carlin team, you stand there with Fernando, the enormity of what just happened settling in.

“You knew this was coming, didn’t you?” You ask, giving him a sideways glance.

Fernando shrugs, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “I had a feeling. But it was always up to you to make it happen.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

He grins. “And you’re an F1 driver now. Better get used to it.”

The two of you stand there for a moment longer, taking in the victory, the announcement, the future that’s unfolding right before your eyes. It’s been a long road, full of challenges and doubts, but you’ve made it. And now, you’re about to step onto the biggest stage in motorsport, with Fernando right there alongside you.

As you look out at the garage, the Carlin team still buzzing with excitement, you can’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude. For the team, for the journey, and most of all, for Fernando — the man who believed in you when no one else did, and who continues to believe in you now.

“Thank you, Fernando,” you say quietly, but with all the sincerity you can muster. “For everything.”

He simply nods, his expression softening. “You’ve earned it.”

And as you stand there, the future stretching out before you, one thing is certain: this is just the beginning.

***

The winter sun hangs low in the sky as you walk along the rocky path that leads to Fernando’s private track in northern Spain. The air is crisp, carrying the scent of pine trees and the distant murmur of the sea. It’s a world away from the chaos of the paddock, a place where the outside noise fades, leaving only the hum of your thoughts and the weight of what’s to come. The off-season is supposed to be a time to rest, to recharge, but this year, it’s different. There’s no time to lose — not with your first Formula 1 season looming on the horizon.

Fernando walks beside you, his stride as confident and unhurried as ever. His presence is steadying, a reminder that you’re not alone on this journey. He’s been here before, countless times, and now he’s passing on everything he knows to you. This winter isn’t just about physical training; it’s about mastering the mental side of the sport — the side that can make or break a career in F1.

He stops at the edge of the track, the silence between you stretching out as you both take in the view. The asphalt is cold and unyielding, winding through the landscape like a dark ribbon, a challenge waiting to be conquered.

“You know the driving part,” Fernando says, breaking the silence. His voice is calm, measured, but there’s an intensity to it that commands attention. “You’ve proven that you can handle the car, the speed, the competition. But F1 is more than just driving. It’s a mental game. It’s about being the predator, not the prey.”

You nod, knowing he’s right. The physical demands of F1 are immense, but the mental demands are even greater. The pressure, the mind games, the need to be perfect in a sport where perfection is almost impossible — it’s all part of what makes F1 the pinnacle of motorsport.

“Today, we start with the basics,” Fernando continues, his gaze fixed on the track. “How to be a track terror.”

A track terror. The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. To be feared on the track, to have your competitors second-guessing themselves before they even line up on the grid — that’s what Fernando is talking about. It’s not just about being fast; it’s about being relentless, unyielding, the kind of driver who forces others into mistakes.

“You don’t have to be the fastest in every session,” Fernando explains, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. “You just have to make them think you are. Get in their heads. Make them question their own pace, their own decisions.”

He starts to walk along the edge of the track, and you follow, listening closely. “Every driver has a breaking point,” he says. “You need to learn how to find it. Sometimes it’s in their driving — how they react under pressure, how they handle wheel-to-wheel combat. Sometimes it’s off the track — in how they deal with the media, how they cope with setbacks. Your job is to figure out what that breaking point is and use it.”

You absorb his words, understanding that this is the difference between good drivers and great ones. It’s not just about talent; it’s about psychology, about knowing how to manipulate a situation to your advantage.

“And once you find that breaking point?” You ask, wanting to hear it from him.

Fernando stops and turns to face you, his eyes sharp, calculating. “You exploit it,” he says simply. “You push them until they crack. But you have to be smart about it. There’s a fine line between pushing them to the edge and pushing yourself over it.”

His words are blunt, but you know there’s truth in them. F1 isn’t just a sport, it’s a battle, a war of wills as much as it is a test of speed.

“Take the first corner,” Fernando says, pointing to the sharp turn at the end of the straight. “It’s where a lot of races are won or lost. You need to establish yourself early. Show them that you’re not afraid to fight for position, but also that you’re in control. That’s key — being aggressive, but controlled.”

You nod, envisioning the scenarios he’s describing. You’ve raced at high levels before, but F1 is different. The stakes are higher, the margins narrower. There’s no room for error, but there’s also no room for hesitation.

“How do you know when to cross the line?” You ask, thinking back to the times when Fernando has pushed the limits, often to the point where others questioned his tactics.

He gives a small smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You learn,” he says. “Sometimes by making mistakes. But the key is to learn from them quickly. You have to know when to back off and when to push harder. It’s about balance, about knowing your own limits as much as theirs.”

He pauses, his gaze locking with yours. “And sometimes, you have to cross the line. But when you do, you do it with intent, and you don’t get caught. You make sure it looks like a mistake, something that just happened in the heat of the moment. And you never apologize for it.”

There’s a chill in the air, but you barely notice it, your mind focused on every word. This is what you’ve needed, what you’ve been missing. The edge that will set you apart in a field of the best drivers in the world.

“What about mind games?” You ask, curious to know more about how to handle the psychological warfare that comes with F1.

Fernando chuckles, a sound that’s both amused and knowing. “Mind games are everything,” he says. “They start long before you even get in the car. It’s about how you carry yourself, how you interact with the other drivers, with the media. You have to control the narrative, make them think what you want them to think.”

He starts walking again, this time towards the small building at the edge of the track where the team usually sets up. “The media is a powerful tool,” he continues. “You can use them to your advantage, but you have to be careful. Give them just enough to create doubt in your competitors’ minds, but not enough to give anything away.”

You think back to the countless press conferences you’ve watched, where drivers like Fernando have used their words as weapons, creating stories that unsettle their rivals. It’s a game within a game, and you’re starting to see how deep it goes.

“Never let them see you sweat,” Fernando adds, his tone more serious now. “Even when things aren’t going your way, you have to project confidence. Make them think you have everything under control, even when you don’t. And when they stumble, when they show weakness, you pounce.”

The building looms ahead, the door slightly ajar. Fernando pushes it open, revealing a small, sparsely furnished room with a table, a few chairs, and a whiteboard covered in notes and diagrams. It’s a war room, a place where strategies are formed, where victories are planned.

Fernando gestures for you to sit, and you do, feeling the weight of what’s to come. He takes a seat across from you, his expression now all business.

“Let’s talk about racecraft,” he says, leaning forward. “You need to understand that F1 isn’t just about speed. It’s about strategy, about thinking two, three steps ahead of everyone else. You need to know when to attack and when to hold back, when to take risks and when to play it safe.”

He starts sketching out scenarios on the whiteboard, explaining different race strategies, how to read your competitors, how to manage your tires, your fuel, your energy. It’s a crash course in F1 tactics, and you absorb every detail, knowing that this knowledge could be the difference between winning and losing.

“You’ll have a team behind you,” Fernando says, his eyes never leaving the board as he continues to write. “But you’re the one in the car. You’re the one who has to make the decisions in real-time. Trust your instincts, but also trust your preparation. The more you know, the better equipped you’ll be to handle whatever comes your way.”

He turns back to you, his expression serious. “And remember, F1 is a long game. It’s not just about one race, or even one season. It’s about building a career, about consistently performing at a high level. You have to pace yourself, know when to push and when to hold back. It’s a marathon, not a sprint.”

You nod, the enormity of what he’s saying sinking in. This isn’t just about your rookie season; it’s about laying the foundation for a long and successful career. And with Fernando guiding you, you know you’re in the best possible hands.

The session goes on, the hours slipping away as you discuss everything from race strategies to media tactics, from how to handle pressure to how to deal with setbacks. Fernando doesn’t sugarcoat anything; he tells you the harsh realities of the sport, the challenges you’ll face, the sacrifices you’ll have to make. But he also gives you the tools to overcome them, to not just survive in F1, but to thrive.

By the time the sun starts to set, casting long shadows across the track, you feel a mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration. It’s been an intense day, but you know it’s exactly what you needed. Fernando has pushed you, challenged you, but he’s also given you the confidence to believe that you belong in this world, that you can succeed.

As you walk back towards the main house, the sky now a deep orange, Fernando falls into step beside you. There’s a comfortable silence between you, the kind that comes from a shared understanding, a mutual respect that has grown over time.

After a while, Fernando breaks the silence with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know,” he begins, his tone light but with a glint of mischief in his eyes, “I’ve been called many things in my career. Champion, legend … war criminal.”

You look at him, caught between a laugh and a raised eyebrow. “War criminal?”

He chuckles, shrugging casually. “Not literally, of course. But some of my tactics, let’s say, weren’t always appreciated by everyone. I was willing to do whatever it took to win — sometimes crossing lines that others wouldn’t dare touch.”

You smile, catching on to his meaning. “And you think I’m ready to follow in your footsteps?”

Fernando’s smirk widens. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t. F1 isn’t a game for the faint-hearted. It’s for those who aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty when it counts. Just remember … there’s no shame in doing what it takes to survive. And thrive.”

His words hang in the cool evening air, and as you both continue walking, you feel a sense of resolve settle within you. Fernando must notice it too because he gives you a sideways glance, the glint still in his eyes. “Just don’t forget who taught you all this when they start throwing accusations your way.”

***

The Bahrain night sky looms overhead, blanketing the circuit in a velvety darkness punctuated by the glaring lights of the paddock. The roar of engines rumbles through the air as teams buzz with last-minute preparations. Mechanics scramble, engineers analyze data, and drivers slip into their zones. The first race of the season carries a unique kind of tension, a palpable energy that’s almost electric. But amidst all the chaos, Fernando moves with calm confidence as he weaves through the pit lane, eyes scanning for one person.

He finds you standing by the Williams garage, helmet in hand, gaze fixed on the distant horizon as if trying to absorb the magnitude of the moment. It’s your first F1 race, and the weight of it all is evident in the slight furrow of your brow, the focused set of your jaw.

Fernando walks up to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, drawing you out of your thoughts. “Hey,” he says, his voice cutting through the noise like a sharp blade. “Nervous?”

You turn to face him, a mix of emotions swirling in your eyes — excitement, determination, and yes, a hint of nerves. “A little,” you admit. “It’s different from F2. Bigger.”

Fernando nods, understanding all too well. “It is bigger. The stakes are higher, the pressure’s heavier. But you’ve got this.”

You nod, though your grip on the helmet tightens. “I know. I just need to keep my head in the right place.”

Fernando’s eyes narrow, the glint of the night’s floodlights reflecting in them as he leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “Remember what we talked about in Spain. You’re not here to play nice. You’re here to win. You’re here to make them regret ever doubting you.”

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips as his words sink in. This is the Fernando you’ve come to know so well — the ruthless competitor who sees racing as a battlefield, where only the most cunning and unrelenting survive. He’s drilled that mentality into you, reminding you time and time again that the track is no place for mercy.

“You’re not just a driver,” he continues, his tone growing more intense. “You’re a track terror. Make them fear you. Take every opportunity, even if it means forcing them into a mistake. Be aggressive. Be relentless. And if they try to intimidate you-”

“I intimidate them back,” you finish for him, the determination in your voice now matching his.

Fernando’s lips curl into a smirk, clearly pleased. “Exactly. Make them question if they even belong out there with you.”

As he speaks, Nicholas Latifi, your teammate, walks by on his way to his side of the garage. His steps falter when he overhears the tail end of Fernando’s words.

“… If you see an opening, take it. Don’t give them a second to breathe. Push them out of their comfort zone, and when they’re scrambling, that’s when you strike. Hard.”

Latifi’s eyes widen in alarm as he processes what Fernando is saying. He hesitates, clearly debating whether he should approach or back away slowly. Ultimately, he chooses the latter, retreating with a hurried, nervous glance over his shoulder.

You notice Latifi’s reaction and can’t help but laugh. “I think you might’ve scared him off.”

Fernando chuckles, a low, almost devious sound. “Good. Less competition for you.” Then, with a more serious edge, he adds, “He’s not your concern. You’re here for the big players. And don’t forget, every race is an opportunity to show them what you’re made of. Especially the ones who think you don’t deserve to be here.”

You nod, the nerves from earlier replaced by a rising sense of purpose. Fernando’s words have a way of lighting a fire inside you, a fire that burns hotter with every passing second. The crowd noise, the hum of engines, the flashing lights — all of it fades away until there’s only the track and the promise of what lies ahead.

Fernando steps back, giving you space but keeping his gaze locked on yours. “Tonight, you’re going to prove that you’re not just another rookie. You’re a force to be reckoned with. And you’re going to do it with style.”

You smirk, the corners of your mouth curving upward as confidence surges through you. “With style?”

“Absolutely,” Fernando replies, his own smirk widening. “Remember, there’s a fine line between genius and insanity on the track. And you’re going to walk it like it’s a tightrope.”

You slip your helmet on, the visor clicking into place as Fernando’s words echo in your mind. The world outside may be chaotic, but inside your helmet, it’s a sanctuary — a place where you can focus, where every piece of advice, every lesson Fernando has drilled into you, comes together.

He watches you for a moment, pride evident in his eyes. He’s seen your growth, your transformation from a talented driver into something much more formidable. He knows you’re ready for this.

“Now go out there,” he says, voice clear and commanding, “and make them remember your name.”

With a final nod, you turn towards your car, the sleek Williams machine waiting for you. The pit crew is already in position, and the clock is ticking down. But before you step in, Fernando adds one last thing.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he says, catching your attention. You look back at him, and there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Terrorize everyone out there … except me.”

You laugh, the sound muffled by your helmet, but the sentiment is clear. “No promises.”

Fernando grins, crossing his arms as he watches you settle into the cockpit. The familiar sounds of the car coming to life fill the air, and the anticipation builds. The lights above the pit lane begin their countdown, and you take a deep breath, centering yourself for what’s to come.

As you drive out onto the track for the formation lap, Fernando steps back, his eyes following your car as it weaves between the other machines, each one a potential target, each one a stepping stone towards the top. He knows you’re ready, knows that tonight is just the beginning of what promises to be an incredible journey.

He’s proud of you, not just as a driver, but as the competitor you’ve become under his guidance. And as you line up on the grid, the lights glowing red above, Fernando’s final words echo in your mind.

Make them remember your name.

The lights go out, and the race begins.

***

The Bahrain circuit is still buzzing with energy even after the race has ended. The floodlights cast a bright, artificial glow over the paddock as drivers, engineers, and media personnel move about, some celebrating, others reflecting on the night’s events. The humid night air is thick with the scent of burning rubber and engine exhaust, a familiar and oddly comforting smell to those who live and breathe motorsport.

Fernando stands in the media pen, his eyes fixed on you as you field questions from a group of eager reporters. He’s barely listening to the reporter in front of him, who’s rattling off questions about his own race. He finished just outside the points, but it doesn’t bother him much. Tonight, his focus isn’t on his own performance but on yours.

You’re animated, your eyes bright, still riding the adrenaline high from the race. You finished ninth — an impressive debut for any rookie, especially in a Williams. Fernando watches as you handle the questions with ease, a slight smile playing on his lips. The way you stand, the way you speak, there’s a confidence there that wasn’t present when he first met you. He sees in you a reflection of his younger self, and it fills him with a quiet pride.

“Fernando,” the reporter in front of him says, trying to regain his attention. “Can you tell us about your strategy today?”

Fernando barely hears the question, his attention still on you. You’re laughing at something a reporter just asked, and he catches a glimpse of that mischievous glint in your eyes — the same one he’s seen countless times in his own reflection. He can tell you’re about to say something memorable, and he doesn’t want to miss it.

“Fernando?” the reporter prompts again, sounding slightly annoyed now.

“Hmm?” Fernando finally acknowledges the reporter, but his gaze doesn’t leave you. “What was that?”

“Your strategy today — what was the thinking behind it?”

“Strategy? Oh, yes, the strategy,” Fernando replies absentmindedly, waving his hand dismissively. “You know, just the usual. Push when you can, hold back when you must.” His answers are automatic, but his mind is elsewhere.

The reporter blinks, clearly unimpressed with the vague response, but before he can ask a follow-up question, Fernando’s attention is fully captured by what you’re saying.

A journalist standing in front of you, wearing a press lanyard and holding a recorder close to your face, asks, “Can you walk us through that incredible overtake on Sebastian Vettel? It looked like you had no fear going up against a four-time world champion.”

You smile, a knowing look in your eyes, and then you glance over at Fernando.

“I knew he would hit the brakes,” you say, loud enough for him to hear. You pause for dramatic effect, and then with a wink in Fernando’s direction, you continue, “Because he has a wife and three kids waiting for him at home.”

The words hang in the air for a moment before the reporters around you burst into laughter. The reference to Fernando’s famous quip about Michael Schumacher years ago is unmistakable, and it’s clear that the media eats it up. But more importantly, Fernando hears it, and his chest swells with pride.

The reporter in front of Fernando raises an eyebrow, curious now about what’s just been said. “Looks like she’s learned a thing or two from you,” he comments.

Fernando finally turns to the reporter, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Yes, she has. More than she knows.”

He watches as you continue the interview, your demeanor composed, yet playful. The way you handle the press is impressive — calm, confident, but with just the right amount of charm to keep them on your side. You’re not just a racer; you’re a showman, someone who understands that Formula 1 is as much about performance off the track as it is on it.

Fernando catches snippets of your conversation, listening as you describe the overtake in more detail. “Seb’s a great driver, no doubt about it. But in that moment, I knew I had him. I could see it in his body language. He was playing it safe, so I took my chance.”

“And what was going through your mind when you made the move?” Another journalist asks.

You pause for a moment, considering the question. Then, with a smirk, you say, “I was thinking, ‘What would Fernando do?’ And then I went for it.”

Fernando chuckles to himself, shaking his head slightly. He can’t help but feel a surge of pride. Not because you’ve imitated him, but because you’ve made the decision to be bold, to take risks, and to trust your instincts. That’s what separates the good drivers from the great ones — the willingness to seize the moment, to act decisively.

You finish up your interview, the reporters gradually dispersing to chase down other drivers. Fernando finally gives his full attention to the reporter in front of him, who’s still trying to get something meaningful out of him.

“Fernando, about your race …” the reporter begins again.

But Fernando is already moving, stepping around the man with a polite but firm nod. “Excuse me,” he says, cutting the interview short. There’s someone far more important he needs to talk to right now.

He strides over to you, your helmet now tucked under your arm as you chat casually with one of the team engineers. You spot him approaching and flash him a smile.

“Hey,” you say as he reaches you. “Did you hear what I said?”

“I did,” Fernando replies, unable to keep the pride out of his voice. “You’ve got quite the sense of humor.”

“Learned from the best,” you quip, giving him a playful nudge.

Fernando laughs, shaking his head. “I wasn’t sure you’d actually use that line, but I’m glad you did. The media loves a good story, and you just gave them one.”

You shrug, your smile widening. “Figured I’d give them something to talk about. Plus, it’s not every day you get to pass a guy like Seb.”

“And you did it with style,” Fernando adds, his voice filled with admiration. “You handled yourself perfectly out there, both on track and with the press. You’re making your mark.”

The engineer standing next to you clears his throat, clearly not wanting to interrupt but feeling the need to acknowledge Fernando’s presence. “Great job out there today,” he says, offering a handshake.

“Thanks,” Fernando replies, shaking the man’s hand. “But today’s all about her,” he adds, nodding in your direction.

The engineer nods in agreement before excusing himself, leaving you and Fernando alone in the now quieter part of the paddock. The sounds of celebration and interviews still echo in the background, but here, in this moment, it feels like it’s just the two of you.

“You know,” Fernando says after a beat, “I’ve never been prouder.”

You look at him, surprised by the raw emotion in his voice. “Really?”

“Really,” he confirms. “Seeing you out there today … it reminded me why I fell in love with racing in the first place. The passion, the drive, the thrill of the fight. You have all of that, and more.”

Your smile softens, touched by his words. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You did it because you’re a damn good driver,” Fernando corrects, though there’s a warmth in his tone. “But I’m glad I could be a part of your journey.”

You both stand there for a moment, the enormity of what you’ve achieved settling in. Ninth place in your first race is no small feat, especially in a car that everyone had written off as uncompetitive. But you’ve proven them wrong, and you’ve done it in a way that’s uniquely your own.

“Next time, though,” Fernando says, a teasing lilt in his voice, “let’s aim for top five.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “No pressure, right?”

“Never,” he replies with a grin. “Just a challenge.”

***

Fernando leans casually against the side of the Alpine motorhome, arms crossed, eyes scanning the paddock. The next season’s first race is in a few days, and the energy around the circuit is electric, buzzing with the anticipation of new beginnings. He’s just finished an interview, the usual media rounds, when he spots you approaching, your new Mercedes gear a stark contrast to the sea of blues and pinks around you.

“Ah, there you are,” Fernando greets with a grin as you draw closer. “I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

You tilt your head slightly, curious. “Who?”

Fernando pushes off the motorhome, beckoning you to follow as he leads you around to the back, where a young reserve driver is checking his phone, leaning casually against the wall. The kid looks up as you approach, his expression polite, maybe a touch reserved, but there’s an unmistakable spark of intelligence in his eyes.

“Oscar,” Fernando calls out, “this is her.”

Oscar Piastri straightens up, tucking his phone into his pocket. “Nice to meet you,” he says, extending a hand with a shy but confident smile. He’s calm, almost too calm for someone his age, but there’s a warmth there, something genuine. You can’t help but notice how composed he is, how his eyes seem to study you without making you feel scrutinized.

You shake his hand, offering a cool smile in return. “Likewise. I’ve heard good things.”

Oscar chuckles softly, scratching the back of his head. “Hopefully, I can live up to them.”

The three of you chat for a while, exchanging pleasantries about the upcoming season, racing, the usual stuff. Oscar is polite, measured in his responses, but there’s a softness to him that you hadn’t expected. It’s like he’s quietly confident, but without the brashness that usually comes with it. Fernando watches the interaction closely, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he notes the way your demeanor shifts ever so slightly around Oscar — more guarded, maybe, but intrigued.

Eventually, Oscar glances at his watch and excuses himself, mentioning something about a debrief he needs to attend. You nod, maintaining your composed exterior, and watch him walk back towards the Alpine motorhome before turning to Fernando.

“Polite cat vibes,” you murmur almost to yourself, a hint of amusement in your voice. Fernando raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

“What was that?” He asks, although there’s a knowing look in his eyes. He’s been around long enough to pick up on these things.

You roll your eyes playfully, but there’s a lightness in your expression that wasn’t there before. “I said, polite cat vibes. You know, like when a cat is super well-behaved, but you just know there’s something more going on behind those eyes?”

Fernando laughs, a genuine, hearty sound that makes a few heads turn in your direction. “So, you think Oscar is a cat?”

“Well, not literally,” you reply, grinning. “It’s just … he’s got this thing, you know? Like he’s really nice, but you can tell he’s got claws if he needs them. And he’s so … calm. I just want to pinch his cheeks and cuddle him.”

Fernando’s laugh turns into a full-blown chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re smitten, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” you say, feigning nonchalance as you fold your arms across your chest. “But it’s just … he’s different. Not in a bad way, just-”

“Different,” Fernando finishes for you, nodding thoughtfully. “Yeah, I get it. But don’t let that cloud your judgment on track.”

You shoot him a look. “Please. I’m not a rookie, and besides, I’m at Mercedes now. I’ve got bigger things to focus on than cute cats.”

Fernando smiles, but there’s a serious undertone to his next words. “Just remember, this is Formula 1. There’s no room for distractions, no matter how polite or cute they might be.”

You nod, understanding the weight behind his words, but there’s still a twinkle in your eye as you glance back in the direction Oscar disappeared. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

“Good,” Fernando replies, clapping you on the back. “Because I’m not going to let you slack off, not even for a second.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” you retort, smirking. There’s a comfortable silence that falls between the two of you, the kind that only comes from mutual respect and understanding.

But Fernando can’t resist one last jab. “Don’t go soft on him, okay? I’ve got my eye on you.”

You roll your eyes again but with a fond smile. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Of course,” Fernando grins. “It’s part of my charm.”

You laugh, the sound bright and clear in the busy paddock, and Fernando can’t help but feel a swell of pride. You’ve come so far, and he’s been there every step of the way, watching you grow not just as a driver but as a person. There’s a part of him that’s protective, sure, but there’s also a part that’s thrilled to see you standing on your own two feet, ready to take on whatever comes your wa— even if it’s an Australian polite cat.

“Let’s get out of here,” Fernando says finally, leading the way back to the Mercedes motorhome. “We’ve got a race to win this weekend, and I don’t want any distractions.”

You follow him, but there’s a spring in your step that wasn’t there before, and Fernando notices. He doesn’t say anything, though, just smiles to himself. You’re going to be just fine, he thinks, more than fine.

As you walk together, side by side, you can’t help but glance back once more, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Maybe, just maybe, this season is going to be full of surprises. And Fernando? Well, he’s ready for whatever comes next, as long as you are too.

***

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the vineyard where the ceremony is taking place. Rows of chairs are lined up neatly on the manicured lawn, all facing a simple yet elegant archway draped in white fabric and adorned with soft blush roses. The air is filled with the quiet murmur of guests settling in, the occasional laugh breaking through the serene atmosphere.

Fernando adjusts his tie, glancing around with a mixture of pride and disbelief. How did they get here? It seems like only yesterday he was meeting you for the first time, a determined young driver who refused to be underestimated. Now, here you are, standing at the altar, poised to marry the man you’ve chosen to spend your life with.

Fernando is seated in the front row, just to the left of the aisle, with Mark Webber by his side. The two exchange knowing smiles as the ceremony begins, each lost in their own thoughts. Mark has watched Oscar grow from a promising young talent into a man of integrity and strength, much like Fernando has done with you. There’s a quiet understanding between them, a mutual respect that goes beyond words.

As the officiant begins to speak, Fernando leans over slightly, catching Mark’s eye. “I guess this makes us in-laws,” he whispers, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Mark chuckles softly, nodding. “Seems like it. Didn’t see this coming back when we were racing, did we?”

“Not at all,” Fernando replies with a smile, glancing back at the altar where you and Oscar stand, hand-in-hand. “But I’m glad it did.”

The vows are simple, heartfelt, and deeply personal. Oscar goes first, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

“From the moment I met you,” Oscar begins, his eyes locked on yours, “I knew you were different. You challenged me, inspired me, and made me want to be a better person. In a world that often felt overwhelming, you were my calm, my constant. Today, I promise to stand by your side, through every victory and every defeat. I promise to support your dreams as if they were my own, to lift you up when you’re down, and to love you unconditionally, now and forever.”

There’s a brief pause, the weight of his words hanging in the air. You squeeze his hand, your heart swelling with the depth of his sincerity. When it’s your turn, you take a deep breath, steadying yourself.

“Oscar,” you begin, your voice clear and strong, “You were the unexpected surprise in my life, the calm in my storm. From the moment we met, I knew you were special. You’ve been my partner on and off the track, my biggest supporter, and my best friend. Today, I promise to cherish every moment we have together, to grow with you, and to always be there for you, no matter what. I promise to love you with all that I am, and all that I will ever be. You are my heart, my soul, and my everything.”

Fernando feels a lump in his throat as you finish. He’s never been one to get emotional, but today, sitting here, listening to you pour your heart out, he can’t help but feel a surge of pride and love. He remembers the teenage girl who had to fight for every opportunity, the young woman who never gave up, and now, the bride standing before him, ready to take on the next chapter of her life.

The officiant speaks again, guiding you and Oscar through the final steps of the ceremony. When it’s time for the rings, Mark reaches into his pocket, retrieving Oscar’s band with a small, proud smile. Fernando does the same for you, his hands steady as he hands over the ring you will soon place on Oscar’s finger.

“With this ring, I thee wed,” you both say, sliding the rings onto each other’s fingers. The moment is profound, sealing your commitment not just in words, but in action.

“You may kiss the bride,” the officiant finally announces, and there’s a collective sigh of happiness from the gathered crowd as Oscar leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s both tender and full of promise.

Applause erupts, and as you and Oscar turn to face your family and friends, hands still entwined, Fernando catches your eye. There’s something unspoken between you, a bond that goes beyond blood, beyond words. You smile at him, and he nods in return, his chest swelling with emotion.

The ceremony concludes, and guests begin to make their way to the reception area, where a beautifully decorated marquee awaits. The air is filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses as everyone mingles, basking in the joy of the occasion.

The second dance is a traditional one with your father. You sway gently in his arms as he whispers words of wisdom, of pride, and of love. The moment is touching, a reminder of the family that has always stood behind you, even when the road was hard.

When the song ends, you hug your father tightly, thanking him for everything. But as the music transitions into something new, you catch Fernando’s eye across the room. There’s a moment of hesitation, but then you make your way towards him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Nando,” you say softly as you reach him, “would you join me for a dance?”

For a brief moment, Fernando is taken aback. He’s always seen you as a strong, independent force — someone who has always forged their own path. But in this moment, he realizes just how much you’ve come to mean to him, how deeply intertwined your lives have become.

“Are you sure?” He asks, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

You nod, your eyes shining with emotion. “You’ve been like a father to me. I couldn’t imagine today without sharing this moment with you.”

Fernando swallows hard, nodding as he takes your hand. The two of you move to the center of the dance floor, the music soft and slow. As you begin to dance, there’s a sense of calm that settles over you both, a quiet understanding that needs no words.

“I’ve watched you grow,” Fernando says after a few moments, his voice low so only you can hear, “into one of the best drivers I’ve ever known, but more than that … into an incredible person. I’m so proud of you, more than I can ever say.”

Tears prick at your eyes, but you blink them back, smiling up at him. “Thank you. For everything. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

“You would’ve found your way,” he replies, his tone firm. “You always had it in you. I just gave you a little push.”

“A little?” You tease, and he laughs, the sound filled with warmth.

As the song comes to an end, Fernando pulls you into a tight hug, his hand resting protectively on the back of your head. “Remember, I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

“I know,” you whisper, your voice choked with emotion. “And I’ll always be here for you too.”

***

The antiseptic scent of the hospital hits Fernando the moment he steps into the delivery wing, mingling with the distant beeps of monitors and the hushed whispers of medical staff. It’s a familiar environment, yet so foreign to him. He’s used to the adrenaline rush of the pit lane, the roar of engines, the calculated chaos of racing — but this, this is something entirely different. He’s been in countless high-pressure situations, but none have ever felt like this.

As he makes his way down the hallway, his heart beats just a little faster than usual, his mind racing with thoughts of you, of Oscar, and of the tiny new life that’s just come into the world. When he reaches the door of your room, he hesitates for the briefest of moments, his hand hovering over the door handle.

It’s not that he’s nervous — Fernando Alonso doesn’t get nervous — but there’s something about this moment that feels monumental, like the start of a new chapter in a book he didn’t even realize he was writing.

He pushes the door open slowly, stepping into the room with a soft smile. The room is bathed in a warm, gentle light, far removed from the harsh brightness of the hallway. It’s quiet, peaceful, with only the faint hum of machinery and the soft breaths of the newborn breaking the silence.

You’re lying in the bed, looking tired but radiant, with a tiny bundle cradled in your arms. Oscar is beside you, his hand resting protectively on your shoulder, his eyes filled with awe and love. When you see Fernando, your face lights up, and despite the exhaustion etched into your features, there’s a warmth in your smile that makes his heart swell.

“Fernando,” you say softly, your voice hoarse but filled with joy. “Come meet him.”

He steps closer, his eyes drawn to the small figure in your arms. The baby is tiny, impossibly so, wrapped in a soft blue blanket, with a tuft of dark hair peeking out. Fernando’s breath catches in his throat as he looks down at the baby, his heart pounding in a way that’s both unfamiliar and entirely overwhelming.

“He’s perfect,” Fernando murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

Oscar grins, nodding in agreement. “We think so too.”

You shift slightly, holding the baby out toward Fernando. “Would you like to hold him?”

For a moment, Fernando hesitates. He’s held championship trophies, gripped the steering wheel at speeds that would make others blanch, but this? This is different. This is fragile, delicate, something that requires a gentleness he’s not sure he possesses. But when he sees the trust in your eyes, he nods, carefully taking the baby into his arms.

The weight is nothing — featherlight, almost — but it’s enough to make his hands tremble just the slightest bit. He cradles the baby close, his eyes wide as he studies the tiny features: the small nose, the delicate eyelids, the impossibly small fingers curled into little fists. The baby stirs slightly, his mouth opening in a silent yawn before settling back into a peaceful sleep.

“What’s his name?” Fernando asks, his voice thick with emotion.

You exchange a glance with Oscar before looking back at Fernando, your smile widening. “His name is Theodore,” you say softly, “Theodore Fernando Piastri.”

Fernando’s breath catches, his eyes snapping up to meet yours. For a moment, he’s speechless, his mind struggling to process what he’s just heard.

“Fernando?” He repeats, his voice barely audible.

You nod, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “We wanted to honor you. You’ve been like a father to me, and now … now you’re going to be a part of his life too. It just felt right.”

Fernando stares at you, his heart swelling with a mixture of pride, love, and something else — something deeper, something he’s never quite felt before. He looks down at Theodore, his namesake, and for the first time in a long while, he feels his eyes prick with tears.

“You … you didn’t have to do that,” he says, his voice choked with emotion.

“But we wanted to,” Oscar says, his voice firm but kind. “You’ve done so much for us, for Y/N. It’s our way of saying thank you.”

Fernando swallows hard, nodding as he blinks back the tears threatening to spill over. He’s always prided himself on his control, on his ability to keep his emotions in check, but this — this is something else entirely. This is a depth of feeling he wasn’t prepared for.

“Thank you,” he finally says, his voice thick. “It means … it means more to me than you can ever know.”

He looks back down at Theodore, his heart full to bursting. The baby stirs again, his tiny fingers twitching, and Fernando smiles, the tears finally spilling over as he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Grandpa Nando,” you say suddenly, your voice filled with affection. “That’s what we’re going to call you. How do you feel about that?”

Fernando lets out a laugh, the sound watery and full of joy. “I think I can get used to that,” he says, his voice trembling with emotion. “Grandpa Nando. I like it.”

You smile at him, your eyes soft with affection. “I’m glad. You’ve been a father figure to me, and now … now you get to be a grandfather to him.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence, the weight of the moment settling over all of you. Fernando can’t stop staring at Theodore, can’t stop marveling at the tiny life in his arms. He’s held many titles in his life — champion, driver, mentor — but this, this feels different. This feels like the most important role he’s ever played.

As he stands there, cradling the tiny life in his arms, he feels a sense of peace settle over him. This is where he’s meant to be, here with you, with Oscar, with Theodore. He’s not just a mentor anymore; he’s family. And that, more than anything, is the greatest victory he’s ever achieved.

Finally, after what feels like both an eternity and no time at all, Fernando carefully hands Theodore back to you, his heart heavy with emotion. You take your son into your arms, holding him close as you smile up at Fernando, your eyes filled with gratitude.

“Thank you,” you say softly. “For everything. For being there for me, for guiding me, for … for being a part of our lives.”

Fernando shakes his head, a small, tearful smile on his lips. “No, thank you. You’ve given me more than I ever could have imagined. You — you and Oscar, and now Theodore — you’re my family. And there’s nothing more important to me than that.”

You reach out, taking his hand in yours, and for a moment, the two of you just stand there, connected by something deeper than words, deeper than racing, deeper than anything Fernando has ever known.

This is what it means to be family, he realizes. This is what it means to love, to care, to be there for each other, no matter what. And as he stands there, his heart full to bursting, he knows that this, more than any championship, more than any victory on the track, is what truly matters.

This is his greatest achievement.

[cheriladycl01]

Could you do fic for Fernando Alonso with wife reader?(no age gap). He saw that someone was flirting with her and she was oblivious to it. Then, he swoops in to ‘save’ her from a bad flirt when in reality they were just jealous. He also feels insecure about his age and to make him feel better, she reveals that she had a surprise for him. You decide what it was. Just something fluff and romantic. Tag me later!! Thanks :)))

You make me feel so …. I don’t know the word in English! -McLaren Fernando Alonso x ObliviousWife! Reader

Plot: Marrying Fernando Alonso was the best decision you ever made, you loved how manly and protective he was with you. However, recently he’s been getting jealous of the other men of the grid and how they treat you.

Fernando Alonso had been your husband for many years. You were sort of childhood sweethearts who married young on a whim and stuck together through it all.

You were able to travel the world with the person, later to be people you loved most. However recently you had a glow about it, maybe it was the fact that you were 1 month pregnant not to the knowledge of Fernando and not yet showing but just had that dewy, glowing skin that made you look radiant.

Everyone in the paddock took notice of this change, not that they couldn’t appreciate your attractiveness before, but now it just made them swoon anytime you breezed into the garage in one of your pretty sun dresses.

Today was no different, it was a beautiful sunny day in Mexico, and you were handing out water and fruit for the mechanics and engineers hard at work on your husbands car. You knew them all by name, you made sure you did, so greeting them was never an issue.

However, nobody told you of the rookie employee that had joined them for Mexico in McLaren garage. You immediately started to introduce yourself to the man, talking to him about what he was doing to the car and asking when he had joined them.

Unknown to you, the mechanic was smitten with you and everything you were telling him about your life. He was listening to every word you were telling him, and that was the effect you had on a lot of people.

“So are you, I dunno coming to the team dinner tonight?” He asks scratching the back of his neck and your about to answer with an animated yes until you feel a hand snake round your waist and pull you closer to them.

You look up and see your husband making you smile and pull him into a gentle kiss.

“Mmm my wife will be attending the dinner” Fernando says, you can’t tell but it’s said with a grit in his teeth and a sharp foxy look in his eyes that tells him to back off.

Fernando was used to you getting male attention, but lately it was constant and you didn’t even know it was happening, you were just so oblivious and he hated that you didn’t realise all these people were flirting with you.

And that mechanic wasn’t even the last of it.

Maybe it was something in the Mexican air, but even Fernando couldn’t seem to keep his hands off you over the weekend, especially after your run in with Lewis, and your old friend Jenson.

When Lewis come up to you, you had a big grin on your face.

“Hey darling. How are you?” He asked kissing either side of your cheeks looking over you with those eyes that would draw any woman in, but you. You had no idea those flirty eyes were intended that way. You just saw the kind chocolate brown and assumed the sparkle and glint in there was happiness to see you.

“I’m really good Lew! Just getting to that point of the day where I’m so exhausted, not all of us are young athletes that look 10 year more youthful than they are” you joked to him making him laugh.

“Mmm you definitely don’t struggle in that department” he says looking over you and you beam at him.

“It’s just so warm, do you recon you can help me take my jacket off? I’m not sure where Fernando is, and the buttons always get caught in my hair” you ask, looking round quickly to see if you can in fact bother your husband with the minor inconvenience at hand.

“Of course, turn around for me” he instructs before pulling your hair back and carefully peeling the tight jacket from your body, now showing off the full look of the sundress you were wearing and how it clung to your most valuable assets in the best ways.

“New dress” Lewis asks observing it making you nod.

“Mmmm, I love getting to wear these kinds of dresses in this heat, they make me feel very pretty” you smile as you shove your hands into the pockets of your dress that when you first got it you couldn’t stop telling Fernando about them, before doing a little spin for Lewis, showing of the small slit in the dress.

Fernando came over the minute he saw the look on Lewis face, who was holding your jacket as he spoke to you.

“Lewis” Fernando faked a smile at the fellow driver, once again wrapping his arms around you so you were in front of him with a tight grip and nowhere to go.

“Hello Fernando” Lewis smiles coyly with a slight smirk. The two make idle conversation before Fernandos dragging you away trying to lightly ask you to stay out in the garage and don’t stray away.

But once he was in the car, you found yourself needing the toilet (Curse the start of your baby sitting on your bladder) and another drink due to the high temperatures Mexico was experiencing that day.

There you found Jenson who was just finishing up with an interview before his eyes landed on you.

“Well if it isn’t Y/N Alonso, looking as beautiful as ever” he grins and you pull him into a hug.

You’d known Jenson for pretty much your whole life being childhood friends from Primary school in the UK. You met Fernando when you went to university in Spain, you always joked that you would have still met someone even if it was later in life because Jenson would have likely introduced you.

So when Fernando saw you and him jokingly messing around with one another his face was like thunder.

Jenson could immediately tell and said a quick goodbye to you not wanting to be at the brunt of the Spaniards anger.

“Fernando baby, what’s the matter?” You ask, coming close to him and trying to thread your fingers through his but he shoves your hand away lightly.

“When will you see it?” He demands and you cock your head to the side, not understanding what he meant, making him groan at how cute you looked.

“See what mi amor?” You ask, using Spanish to see if he’d be calmer.

“You don’t see all these BOYS flirting with you and trying to win you over and you don’t see how it affects me and upsets me! And you make me so mad when you entertain it’s and and I don’t know the world in English because I don’t even think there is a word to describe it!” He exclaims all at once making you step back.

He was really really hurt by all this… and you hadn’t been able to see it.

“Have you ever thought that I don’t notice it because I only have eyes for you?” You ask softly, taking his hand happy and satisfied he lets you this time.

“I know I know, I just think… all of these men coming up to you … they are younger than us and it just makes me think they could give you more than I can” he sighs and looks at you with those little puppy dog eyes.

“Don’t you dare say that!” You exclaim almost offended. He had in fact brought your age into it aswell!

“How dare you say that they could give me more than you can, when you damn well know you’ve given me everything!” You say raising your voice.

“Fernando, I love you, and only you! How can you not see that!” You ask.

“I do see it, I just someone feel insecure and I worry that we are too late to experience certain things and its all my fault coz I put it off because of my career!” He explains and your head cocks to the side once again, wondering what he feels like he’s too late to experience.

“What, what do you think we’ve left too late?” You question.

“Kids, travelling the world without my career being there … I dunno I just had a different timeline for us when we first met” he sighs rubbing his temple before pulling you closer to him and resting his head in the crook of you neck as he takes in your sent.

“Baby, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I was going to wait for after the race so we could tell your parents too but I think this will cheer you up a little … and stop you from worrying about me running over with your colleagues” you joke and he sighs with a light smile pulling back to look over you.

“What is it mi amor?” He asks looking over you. You take his hand and place it on your still pretty flat stomach.

“You can cross a kid of your timeline” you say nervously with a small gulp worried for his reaction.

“Are you being serious?” He asks with a huge grin and he feels around you more to see if there is a more obvious sign.

“Yeah, i only found out before the flight out here” you nod smiling at him and he lifts you up, being as careful as possible with you as he pulls you into a hug.

“I love you so so much! I’m sorry I get so jealous of you, but you can’t blame me when I’m married to such a beautiful woman. Thank you for everything” he smiles pulling you into a light kiss.

Fernando couldn’t be more content with his life right now.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul l @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall l @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Suburban Legends

♥ masterlist | request rules | based on this request

♥ pairing: fernando alonso x wife!reader

♥ synopsis: for your husband's birthday you decided to gather the help of the grid in order to create the perfect surprise party.

♥ smau + written - fc: amanda seyfried and girls on pinterest - as always none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: swearing, mentions of liquoir, and some suggestive-ish jokes !!!

♥ a/n: here's a fernando fic for his birthday! (even though it's already passed by now) tysm to the anon that requested this! I will also be toying with the way I format my fics because much like hobie brown I don't believe in consistency lol. if you want more fernando x wife!reader fics @theyluvkarolina put out one earlier this week and you should go show her some love <3

-Belgium 2024-

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, jensonbutton, nicorosberg, and 1,183,502 more

yn.alonso belgique with nando and our girls <3

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user1 why is her ten year old more aesthetic than me

user7 fanciest family ever

user3 wish I was there

user6 nando looks SO fine

user8 what about Y/N SHE LOOKS GORGEOUS

user10 I cant believe nando's birthday is this week

jensonbutton he's so old

user5 @/jensonbutton you're older than him but go off 😭

user2 my favorite DILFS

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

Your husband Fernando never made his birthday a big deal, but when your daughters begged you to throw him a surprise party, you just had to agree. It was adorable how much they cared about his special day and you knew he'd appreciate it.

Usually his birthday consisted of a stressful race, but since it fell on a Monday this year, it was the perfect opportunity to get everyone together.

This was why you were with Lance. You weren't really "alone" with him either. Not even ten minutes after the picture was posted Nando had dropped off your kids to take them to the beach.

You watched as the girls walked along in the sand, picking up any seashells they found.

"We have everything right? Balloons? Venue? Everyone RSVP'd?" you fidgeted with your bracelet.

"Yes, Y/n we have everything," Lance responded.

"Good. I just want this to be perfect."

"It will be," he smiled.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by lancestroll, fernandoalo_oficial, oscarpiastri, and 972,743 more

yn.alonso brunch & beach with the girls favorite uncle @/lancestroll

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lewishamilton I thought I was the favorite uncle?

fernandoalo_oficial you wish

user1 am I the only one who thinks y/n and Lance are kind of flirty?

user6 yes you are the only one.

nicorosberg the twins have gotten so big

yourusername I know 🥹

user21 wait I'm new to f1. I didn't know Fernando had kids???

user8 @/user21 yea him and y/n have three :) all daughters, making him an unbeatable girl dad. The twins Mariana (the brunette one) and Sofia (the blonde one) are ten and their one year old is named Isabella <3

user3 no bc its so cute that the twins have each of their parents hair colors

user7 lance's job is beach

user12 he is SO Ken

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

Nando couldn't help but notice the way your phone vibrated on the dinner table. This has been going on for a few weeks now. People calling you at odd times, your phone blowing up with texts, randomly going out with the grid...

He knows you would never cheat on him, but he still found it strange that you'd never mentioned anything about this to him. Up until now, you told him everything.

“Who is it?” Fernando asked, taking a bite of his meal.

Mariana and Sofia looked at each other with their eyes wide, not even trying to hide the fact they were in on your little secret.

”What’s this,” Nando gestured to the two girls with his fork. “What are you three up to?” he raised a brow.

”Nothing, mi amor. Let’s just finish eating, yeah?”

“Are you sure? This isn’t something I should be worried about? Sabes que puedes contarme cualquier cosa, ¿verdad?” - (you know you can tell me anything, right?)

“Si, I know. It’s nothing to be worried about. I promise.” you reassured him.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by yn.alonso, lancestroll, astonmartinf1 and 648,942 more

fernandoalo_oficial p5 today

comments are limited

lancestroll we didn’t get the best team result overall but congrats on p5. let’s keep pushing

astonmartinf1 points 💪

yn.alonso proud of you ❤️

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-Fernando's Birthday-

The day started off as it usually did. The twins were up super early to jump in the bed with you and cuddle up beside Nando, wishing him a happy birthday.

He always spoiled you and today was the day to return the favor. You made him and the girls breakfast in bed before taking them out sight seeing in Brussels.

"We have one more stop," you said to Fernando who was in the passengers seat.

You pulled up to the venue and led your family through the door. You were holding Isabella as the twins giggled the whole way inside.

-

"Surprise!!!" everyone yelled as the lights went on.

The room was filled with gold, white, and green balloons and a heart shaped cake was sitting in the middle of a long table.

Fernando smiled and turned towards you, "Mi amor what is this?"

"Your birthday party," you smiled back as his arm snaked around your waist. "It was the twins idea."

”I love you so much,” he said, kissing your temple and ruffling his the twins hair. He held his arms out to hold Isabella.

"Lets drink," Lando held up a bottle of alcohol making everyone cheer.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, aussiegrit, jensonbutton, and 1,592,484 more

yn.alonso happy birthday to the love of my life @/fernandoalo_oficial. you are the most incredible driver, husband, and father and these last fifteen years with you have been an absolute blessing. eres mi todo, mi amor. feliz cumpleaños - (you are my everything, my love. happy birthday) ❤️

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fernandoalo_oficial te amo mucho. gracias cariño ❤️

♡ by yourusername

lancestroll I'm not crying you're crying

carlossainz55 happy birthday cabrón

lewishamilton happy birthday fernando

user7 guys 🥹

user1 this is the cutest thing I've ever seen

astonmartinf1 happy birthday to our fav

♡ by fernandoalo_oficial

user8 THEY LOVE HIM SO MUCH 😭

user2 if my relationship isn't like there's I don't want it

aussiegrit happy birthday mate

♡ by fernandoalo_oficial

[dolene]

Could you do SMAU for Fernando Alonso with wife baker!reader? She would always bring something with her every time she went to the paddock. So, everyone was looking forward to it when shes gonna grave them with her presence. Nando would always fight for her attention with everyone. The Internet also loves her very much indeed. Something fluff and maybe a little suggestive 👀You decide how it goes. Thanks!! :))

﹙𝒮weetest pie : fernando alonso x reader﹚

she certainly steals the attention of the people around her, especially when everyone likes her new brand that she just introduced recently. but what's wrong if a certain person fights for her attention more when they also begs for hers over time?

yourusername

liked by iamrebeccad and 858,613 others

yourusername Introducing Sonreír. 10/10/24

view all 2,602 comments

astonmartinf1 CAN'T WAIIITTT!! 🤤💚

username AM and Fernando are so lucky to have her for the rest of y'alls life

username i'm literally SALIVATING RN

username ALRIIIGHT YALL WON

enchante Not so fast

username She's the sweetest omllll

username How old is she actually?

username 37

username WYM SHE'S 37???????????

felipedrugovich I really miss your handmade pastries that you've always bring when you're in our facility

lance_stroll Hate to admit it but yeah... I miss that too honestly

username HE BROUGHT HIM INTO A CONFESSION CENTER. EVERYBODY SAY THANK YOU FELIPE

username well this is unexpected, lance

username she's gorgeous 😍😍💋

username What is sonreir?

username Her new brand in fashion items and pastries

username I would buy me a whole bag of those pastries if I can

username We got sports apparel husband and luxury apparel wife, Lance's family life is complete

username So you're saying now Lawrence is his grandpa like that?

username 💀💀 I AIN'T SAYING SUMN LIKE THAT

username He is soooo luckyyyy

username I can't believe Fernando bagged her since the very beginning. 🐐 behavior tbh

fernandoalo_oficial I can't believe it myself too

username I THOUFHT U WONLDNT REOLY😭😭😭

yourusername

liked by astonmartinf1 and 638,101 others

yourusername Are you alerted yet?

view all 759 comments

username First ☝️😋

fernandoalo_oficial Second ✌️🫤

username I'm waiting for cafe kitsune to get mentioned

username I wish I were him rn

username HOW MANY DAYS IS IT UNTIL LAUNCHING??

username 888888888888

username I LOOOOOVE HER FIT

username what if she's sneakily judging us there 😦

username Nando's wife is sooo prettyyyy

fernandoalo_oficial Of course! Because she's my WIFE

username Alright alright we know she is your wife

username God really have a favorite...

fernandoalo_oficial 🥰🥰🥰🥰

username Go back to bed grandpa

on twitter...

sonreir

liked by enchante and 21,730 others

sonreir Wild and Bewildered. Now available at sonreir.com

view all 127 comments

yourusername Wild and Bewildered bag is available now ❤️💋

username WE'RE GETTING IT NOW EVERYBODY CHEER

fernandoalo_oficial Sure i'll be buying, sweetheart

username MAN WHY R U EVERYWHERE

username That walk is phenomenal

username I'm waiting for the croissant to appear btw

yourusername Check out ＠sonreircafe babes💋

username That drink looks good 🤤🤤

yeslydimate OMG THAT LOOKS SO PRETTY🥰😍

username She's so cute <3

fernandoalo_oficial Of course my WIFE

username okay, easy with the caps now

sonreircafe added a photo to their story!

sonreircafe · 17h

alo.png (private)

liked by alex_albon and 258 others

alo.png I might kiss those lips if she kept teasing me with it...

show all 56 comments

alex_albon Whoa

mickschumacher Didn't expect this to even happen but I mean... What am I even expecting 🤷‍♂️

lance.stroll I thought this side of you were only a gossip

lilymhe Easy, she isn't going anywhere

fernandoalo_oficial Just for you ❤️❤️ ＠yourusername

charles_leclerc Get a room!

fernandoalo_oficial Don't worry, we will

yourusername Oh my god 😭😭

estebanocon Don't be embarrassed, Y/n. This is a rare thing to see

pierregasly stfu

estebanocon WHAT DID I DO TO YOU????

[astonmartingf]

THE KIDS ARE GOING TO BE ALRIGHT ; F1 DILFS

— another one! this time they're actually dilfs. single-fathers, co-parents, and baby daddies what a nice bunch 👍

amgf hello it's me back with another dilf series, can you imagine i was about to make a challenge for myself to not talk about them for one week... what a bad idea, anyways here's this the fruit of my imagination, enjoy 👍

warnings: do not engage in unprotected sex! fem!reader, mentions of pregnancy, mother!, drama, they make a lot of stupid decisions, idk what energy this is but... 🤷‍♀️

YOU'VE BEEN ON MY MIND ★ FERNANDO ALONSO

— co-parenting with alonso has been smooth sailing, until he starts dropping hints that he wants to be with you again

CONFIDENTIAL ★ LEWIS HAMILTON

— hiding the identity of your baby's father was of utmost importance, especially when he's the sworn enemy of your brother

LUCKIEST MAN ★ MARK WEBBER

— a student of yours keeps trying to set you up with their "very handsome single father," you take it as joke until you actually meet the said father

WE COULD HAVE A GOOD TIME ★ JENSON BUTTON

— you ended up on this random stranger's bed and suddenly the next thing you know you're moving in with him to raise a baby

[chunniwritesalot]

mrs. alonso - fa14 smau - part 2

i jut cant help myself chat

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 a

cw: nothing really! none of the photos used except the one below this is mine! all of them are from pinterest

fernando and y/n have been married for 18 years now, but their love has been the same since they met 26 years ago.

information: spanish speaking! reader, fem! reader, you have 2 daughters- one is 18 and one is 5. you and claire ann stroll are best friends! this is really just how i see old people using social medias 😭

Francesca or Fran is your OLDER daughter and Rubi is your YOUNGER daughter.

(in the tweets it was y/o/d which stood for your older daughter but i ultimately decided to name the kids just so it was a little easier for me! i don’t feel like changing the tweets so…)

-start-

---

"mama!" fran called out as she walked downstairs into the kitchen. rubi was doing her homework at the counter as fernando and y/n cooked dinner- some seafood dish that smelled absolutely amazing. fran plopped herself down on the seat next to her younger sister and watched her parents. fernando turned to her from the stove and raised an eyebrow, "hm mami?" he asked her. the oldest daughter rolled her eyes, "papa, i wasn't talking to you" she sighed, fernando grinned, shaking his head, "mama and i are basically the same" he chimed, turning back to the stove, y/n chuckled and turned to fran "yes, mija?" she asked, smiling at her eldest, she was such an angel. fran pulled out her phone and showed her mother the tweet. y/n frowned, "no posts from mrs. alonso?" she read out, raising her eyebrow, "posts from what? why are they getting weaker? do you know this person?"

francesca sighed, "mama they want you to post on your instagram, thats what they mean."

y/n's eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, "hmph, i didn't know people were waiting on me to post... fernando, did you know this?" fernando frowned himself, turning away from the stove once again, "no i didn't know this fact." he too, leaning forward to read the tweet on fran’s phone. he shrugged, "tal vez sea una señal (maybe its a sign)"

---

y/nalonso has posted!

liked by franalo14, landonorris, lance_stroll, fernandoalo_offical, claireannstroll, and 506,980 others

y/nalonso Mi post en Instagram...😘😮

(translation: My post on Instagram)

tagged: @/franalo14 @/fernandoalo_official @/chloestroll @/lance_stroll @/claireannstroll @/lewishamilton @/logansargeant

view comments...

franalo14 everyone thank me!

user1 thank you fran user2 thank you fran user3 thank you fran user4 thank you fran user6, user6, user7, and 580 others have responded...

lance_stroll I MADE IT INTO THE FAMILY POSTS 🤩😍

y/nalonso Hello mijo, please come over...Rubi misses you...thank you...🙃🙃 lance_stroll sounds good...😨 user8 HELP SAVE LANCE NOW.

lewishamilton Thanks for the dinner invite! Amazing food 🙌🙌

fernandoalo_official Thank you Lewis😛 lewishamilton I wasn't talking to you 😅 fernandoalo_official Oh.......😫😥

claireannstroll Amazing photos sister...😘🥰 Come over tomorrow for lunch👯‍♀️👩‍🍳

y/nalonso Sounds like a plan, I will bring some wine Fernando got from Italy...May need to stay over! Can not drive drunk😂😂😂🍷😵 claireannstroll L.O.L!! Sounds risky...😎😏😹 user9 oh to be invited to the stroll alonso hangouts franalo14 @/user9, trust me you do not want to be invited.

fernandoalo_official So hot😫😍

fernandoalo_official No puedo dejar de pensar en ti...😏😲 (translation: I can't stop thinking about you)

fernandoalo_official Eres el postre perfecto para una cena romántica 😍😋 (translation: You’re the perfect dessert for a romantic dinner) <thank you to the anon that helped me translate this 💗> user10 why is nando replying to himself this cannot be real

y/nalonso Thank you husband😏🤪🥺

user11 MRS. ALONSO YOU HAVE TO REPLY TO THE COMMENT 😭 y/nalonso Oh...please do not cry at my mistake...I am very sorry😯😓💗 user11 @/y/nalonso wait mother im sorry 💔 user12 @/user11 shes a little confused but she got the spirit

chloestroll such a fun beach trip with you, aunt y/n! can't wait to see you again soon 💕💕

y/nalonso You must come soon...😉

user13 mother has blessed us again!

oscarpiastri mom said thanks for the recipe mrs. alonso

y/nalonso Please tell Nicole to come over again...Oscar... oscarpiastri 😦

logansargeant thank you for inviting riley and i for dinner 😁

y/nalonso Please come again soon, mijo... food will be hard to come by when you are unemployed logansargeant oh... 😨 riley_whittal HELP? user14 SHE VIOLATED LOGAN LIKE IT WAS NOTHING

carlossainz55 ¡Qué bueno verte! (great seeing you!)

fernandoalo_official ¿Cómo te sientes? (how do you feel) carlossainz55 He arruinado mi vida. (i have ruined my life) fernandoalo_official 😬😬

maxverstappen1 P wants to see Rubi again!

y/nalonso Let us arrange a playdate. Rubi likes playing the Dressing game on Robux🎮🎮with P🫛I am in 🇲🇨on the 13-20th.Please text my number Max…

maxverstappen1 Yeah… sounds good 🤨😂

-fin-

my requests are open! if you want to see something special done w this series dont be afraid to ask :)

[aceyalonso]

lujuria velada - FERNANDO ALONSO

pairing : fernando alonso x fem!reader kinktober day 8

summary : fernando always loved the way silk looked on y/n, he loved how it'd hug her figure, he loved how it would make her look like a goddess, whether it was the dress he bought for her or her wearing nothing but the silk blindfold.

warnings/notes : swearing, smut, implied age gap (20s/40s), oral (fem!receiving), nipple play, fingering, praise kink, hair pulling (slight), sensory deprivation (blindfolding), protected sex (always use a condom guys!!!), overstimulation, creampie, squirting, use of "mi princesa" and "good girl, slight body worship, multiple orgasms

word count : 1.8k

a/n : kicking my feet and shit

main masterlist | kinktober masterlist

Y/n felt the soft fabric of the blue silk dress caress her skin as she walked beside Fernando. The dress he had bought for her was a perfect fit, hugging her body in all the right place and making her feel like a goddess. She couldn’t help but amile as she glanced at him, her eyes sparkling with desire.

As they entered his condominium, the dim lightinging and the scent of expensive wine created an intimate atmosphere. Fernando poured two glasses of red win, handing one to Y/n. They clincked their glasses together, and Y/n took a sip, savoring the rich flavor on her tongue.

Fernando leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear. “I have a surprise for you tonight,” he whispered, his voice low and seductive. Y/n shivered in anticipation, wondering what he had in store for her.

He smiled mischievously as he pulled out the small velvet box from his blazer pocket. Y/n cocked her head to the side, a playful smirk on her lips. "Another bracelet? I don't think I need a fourth one, Fernando," she teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Fernando chuckled, his fingers brushing against the box. "No, my dear, this is something special. Something that will... spice things up." He opened the box, revealing a delicate blue silk blindfold.

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise, a mix of curiosity and excitement coursing through her veins. "A blindfold?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her heart raced as she looked at the blue silk blindfold, a mix of nervousness and excitement swirling within her. "I don't know, Fernando," she said, trying to sound playful but unable to hide the slight tremor in her voice. "I've never done anything like this before. What if I don't like it?"

Fernando's eyes softened as he gazed at Y/n, his voice gentle yet firm. "Don't argue, mi princesa," he murmured, his fingers brushing against her cheek. "Just put the blindfold on. I promise, I'll take care of you."

Y/n's heart skipped a beat at his words, a sense of trust and vulnerability washing over her. She hesitated for a moment, her fingers trembling slightly as she reached for the blindfold. With a deep breath, she tied it around her eyes, the world around her fading into darkness.

Fernando couldn't help but smirk as Y/n tied the blindfold around her eyes. "You're doing great, mi amor," he whispered, his voice filled with admiration.

He then gently scooped her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest as he carried her to his bedroom. The softness of the blue silk dress contrasted with the warmth of his skin, and Y/n found herself melting into his embrace.

As they entered the bedroom, Fernando carefully laid her down on the plush bed, his hands caressing her body with a tenderness that sent shivers down her spine. "Relax, mi princesa," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. "Let me take care of you tonight."

Y/n's heart raced as she lay on the bed, the blindfold still covering her eyes. She could hear Fernando's footsteps as he moved around the room, the sound of drawers opening and closing. The anticipation was building inside her, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through her veins.

Suddenly, she felt Fernando's hands on her body, his fingers tracing the curves of her hips, her waist, her breasts. She gasped softly, arching into his touch as he slowly unzipped her dress, the cool air of the room brushing against her skin.

Y/n's breath hitched as Fernando's hands roamed over her body, his touch both gentle and possessive. She could feel the heat of his gaze upon her, even through the blindfold, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

As he slowly unzipped her dress, the cool air of the room caressed her skin, making her nipples harden beneath the thin fabric of her bra. Y/n bit her lip, trying to contain the soft moans that threatened to escape her lips as Fernando's fingers traced the swell of her breasts.

"Fernando," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Please..."

Y/n's body was incredibly sensitive to Fernando's touch, every caress sending sparks of pleasure throughout her entire being. Her skin tingled wherever his fingers grazed, and she found herself arching into his touch, desperate for more.

Fernando could sense her need, and he took his time exploring her body, his hands gliding over her curves with a reverence that made her heart swell. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "You're so beautiful, like a fucking goddess. I want to worship every inch of you."

Y/n's breath hitched, her body trembling with desire as Fernando's hands continued their sensual journey. She could feel the heat building within her, a pulsing ache that demanded to be satisfied.

Fernando's lips trailed a path of fire across Y/n's skin, starting with her neck and moving down to her collarbone. He placed soft, open-mouthed kisses along her chest, his tongue darting out to taste her skin.

He lavished attention on her breasts, his lips and tongue worshipping each mound until they were swollen and aching. Y/n gasped and moaned, her back arching off the bed as Fernando's mouth worked its magic.

His lips then traveled lower, kissing and licking a trail down her abdomen and stomach. He paused at the waistband of her panties, his breath hot against her core.

Y/n's body trembled with anticipation as Fernando's lips trailed lower, his breath hot against her core. She could feel the dampness between her thighs, her body aching for his touch.

Fernando's hands gripped her hips firmly, holding her in place as he leaned in closer. His tongue darted out, licking a slow, sensual path along her slit, and Y/n cried out in pleasure, her fingers tangling in his hair.

He continued his ministrations, his tongue swirling around her clit and delving deep inside her. Y/n's hips bucked against his face, her moans growing louder and more desperate with each passing second.

Y/n's senses were overwhelmed with pleasure, Fernando's tongue feeling even more intense than before. Every lick, every suck, every flick of his tongue sent shockwaves of ecstasy through her body.

She could feel the pressure building inside her, her muscles tensing as she neared the edge. Fernando could sense her impending release, and he redoubled his efforts, his tongue working her clit with a fervor that left her breathless.

"Fernando," Y/n gasped, her voice strained with need. "I'm...I'm going to...oh god..."

Her body tensed, her muscles clenching as the pleasure reached its peak. With a cry of ecstasy, she came undone, her orgasm crashing over her in waves of intense pleasure.

Fernando continued his ministrations, his tongue lapping up her release as she rode out the aftershocks. Her body trembled, her fingers still tangled in his hair as she slowly came back down to earth.

Fernando kissed Y/n softly, his lips tender and gentle against hers. He could taste himself on her tongue, a reminder of the pleasure he had just given her.

"Was that good for you, mi amor?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "Do you want more?"

Y/n nodded, her breath still coming in short gasps. "Yes," she whispered, her voice filled with desire. "I want all of you, Fernando. I need you inside me."

Fernando's hands caressed Y/n's face, his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek. "Do you want to keep the blindfold on, mi princesa?" he asked, his voice soft and gentle. "Or would you like to see me as I fuck this pretty pussy of yours?"

Y/n hesitated for a moment, her heart racing with excitement and nervousness. The blindfold had heightened her other senses, making every touch, every kiss, every lick feel even more intense. But the thought of seeing Fernando's face, of watching the pleasure play across his features as he took her, was incredibly appealing.

She took a deep breath, her decision made. "I want to keep the blindfold on," she whispered, her voice filled with a mix of excitement and nervousness. "I want to experience everything through touch and sound."

Fernando smiled, a mix of admiration and desire in his eyes. "As you wish," he murmured, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, tender kiss.

He reached for the condom he had placed on the nightstand earlier, his hands trembling slightly as he sheathed himself. He positioned himself between Y/n's legs, the tip of his erection teasing her entrance.

Y/n's breath hitched as she felt the tip of Fernando's erection teasing her entrance. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, the weight of him pressing down on her.

"Please," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I need you inside me."

Fernando's hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he slowly pushed forward. Y/n gasped as he entered her, stretching her walls to accommodate his size. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and slight discomfort that quickly faded as her body adjusted to him.

He began to move, his hips rocking against hers in a slow, sensual rhythm. Y/n's hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she matched his movements.

The blindfold heightened her other senses, every thrust sending waves of pleasure through her body. She could hear the sound of their skin slapping together, the low moans and grunts of pleasure that escaped Fernando's lips.

"Y/n," he groaned, his voice strained with need. "You feel so good. So tight. So perfect."

Her body shook with pleasure, her muscles tensing as she neared the edge once again. She had lasted longer than she expected, but the intensity of the sensations was taking its toll on her.

Fernando could feel her body tightening around him, her walls clenching as she approached her climax. He increased his pace, his thrusts becoming more forceful and urgent.

"That's it, mi amor," he growled, his voice low and husky. "Cum for me. Let me feel you."

Y/n's body convulsed, her orgasm hitting her with a force that caught her off guard. She cried out, her back arching off the bed as she squirted, her fluids spraying Fernando's lower abdomen.

Fernando's eyes widened in surprise, but the sight of Y/n's pleasure pushed him over the edge. With a grunt, he buried himself deep inside her, his own release filling the condom.

They collapsed together, their bodies slick with sweat and fluids. Y/n's heart raced, her breath coming in short gasps as she tried to process what had just happened.

Y/n's body continued to tremble, her muscles quivering with the aftershocks of her intense orgasm. Fernando gently removed the blindfold, his fingers brushing against her cheeks as he did so.

Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim light of the room. She gazed up at Fernando, her eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and awe.

"That was...incredible," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I've never...I mean, I didn't know I could..."

Fernando chuckled, a warm smile spreading across his face as he gazed down at Y/n. "We'll only have two rounds tonight," he said, his voice filled with amusement. "It seems like you're already satisfied, mi amor."

Y/n blushed, a mix of embarrassment and pride washing over her. She had never experienced such intense pleasure before.

taglist

for all posts; @nepobbylver @wobblymug @xoscar03 @irishmanwhore

kinktober taglist; @cloud-55 @emryb @sie17136 @jaimeleannavanlloman @wosof1 @wholetmewritethat @glitterbitch1 @under-seasoned-pasta @sinners-98-world @lewishamiltonismybf

[verstappenf1lecccc]

AM!Fernando Alonso x wife reader. While all the drivers have their annual dj nee together, they have their own diner with the Strolls. Just what I know since him and Lance are not there. Maybe they had kid(s) (you decide) And Lance being their fav uncle. Spending time, banter, sweet. Anything. Thanks!! :))

I’m sorry this is out rather late!! I’m on vacay so hehe

A Night with the Strolls

The annual driver’s DJ night was in full swing, but Fernando had decided to take a different route this year. Instead of joining the usual crowd for the glitzy and glamorous event, he and his wife had a more intimate plan—dinner with the Stroll family. Lance, being a close friend and mentor to Fernando, was like family, and his wife had grown just as fond of him over the years. The kids, their two young children—Mateo, 6, and Isabella, 4—were more than excited to be spending the evening with Uncle Lance.

The evening was filled with laughter and playful banter as the children chased Lance around the house, calling him their personal jungle gym. Lance, with his larger-than-life personality, was their favorite playmate. His laughter was contagious, and they clung to him as though he was the most important person in their world.

“I think I’ve earned the title of ‘Best Uncle’ tonight,” Lance said with a grin, lifting Mateo into the air and giving him an exaggerated spin.

Fernando, watching from the couch with his wife beside him, couldn’t help but smile. “They’ll want you to take them on a road trip next, you know,” he teased, a proud glint in his eyes as his son clung to Lance’s neck.

“Why not? I’ll just kidnap them and take them away for a few days. They’ll love it,” Lance joked, raising both kids high and making airplane sounds.

Fernando’s wife, sitting quietly next to him, couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace as she watched the scene unfold. The laughter of their children, the light-hearted teasing between Lance and Fernando, and the warmth of the Strolls’ family felt like a dream. She had never imagined a life like this. Coming from a broken home, where love had often felt uncertain and fleeting, she never thought she would find herself in the kind of family that Fernando had created. But here she was, surrounded by the kind of warmth and stability she had always longed for.

She turned to Fernando, her heart full. “Look at them,” she said softly, her voice filled with quiet admiration. “They’re so happy. I never thought I would find a family like this.”

Fernando smiled, his gaze never leaving her as he leaned closer. “You gave me everything I never knew I needed. I’m the lucky one.”

As the evening progressed, they shared moments of quiet connection. The kids ran around, laughing and playing, while Fernando and his wife enjoyed the peace and comfort of each other’s company. At one point, Fernando leaned in closer to his wife, his hand finding hers on the table. Their fingers intertwined naturally, as though they had always belonged there.

“Do you ever think about how we ended up here?” Fernando asked, his voice low, almost as if speaking to himself.

She looked at him, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I think about it all the time,” she replied. “I never imagined I could be this happy, this… whole. When I was younger, love always seemed so fleeting, like something that couldn’t last. But now, with you, it’s different. I feel safe. I feel like I’ve found my home.”

Fernando’s gaze softened as he took a breath, pulling her hand closer to his lips. He kissed the back of her hand, a gesture of love so simple yet so profound. “I was lost, you know. In all the glitz and glamor of racing, the fame, the attention… none of it felt real. None of it meant anything until I found you. You made me feel like I finally had a place, a purpose. When I met you, I finally felt like I was home.”

Her heart melted at his words. She had always known he was a passionate and driven man, but hearing him speak so vulnerably touched her in a way that no victory on the racetrack ever could. “You are my home too, Fernando,” she whispered. “You and our children. There’s nowhere else I would rather be.”

The connection between them was palpable, a silent understanding that, despite the world around them, this was their safe space, their place of love and trust. He leaned in then, brushing his lips gently against hers in a kiss that felt like a promise. Soft, tender, yet full of all the love he held for her.

They pulled away, but Fernando’s hand lingered on her cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of her jawline. “You are everything to me,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “More than I could ever ask for. I will always choose you. Always.”

Her eyes shimmered with love as she gazed at him, feeling the depth of his devotion in every word. “And I will always choose you,” she said, her voice steady but full of affection. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me, Fernando.”

As the evening wore on, the kids grew tired, and Lance’s playful energy began to wind down. They all gathered around the table, enjoying a quiet meal together. Mateo had managed to convince Lance to tell them a new story, a tale of knights and dragons, and even Isabella, usually quiet during dinner, listened with wide-eyed wonder.

Fernando’s wife watched them, taking in the sight of the Stroll family. Lance, ever the jokester, had always been there for Fernando, and it was clear to her how much Lance admired his friend, not just as a teammate, but as a role model, a father figure.

Fernando had often told her that he had always been close to Lance, but she hadn’t realized just how deep their bond ran. Lance saw Fernando as more than just a colleague. He saw him as a mentor, a guide, someone who had been like a brother to him. When they were younger, Lance had looked up to Fernando—admired his success, his drive, and his unwavering loyalty to those he loved. Over time, that admiration had blossomed into a deep friendship, and now, it was clear that Lance adored Fernando like a father.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, man,” Lance had said more than once. “You’ve taught me more than just racing—you’ve taught me what it means to be a man of integrity, to be a good person.”

Fernando had always brushed it off with a laugh, but deep down, he knew how much Lance’s words meant. He had always tried to be a good role model, not just for his kids, but for the people in his life. And seeing Lance with his children—how the kids gravitated toward him, how he genuinely loved them like they were his own—touched him more than he could ever express.

Later, when the kids had been tucked into bed, and the house was quiet, Fernando and his wife took a moment to sit outside on the patio. The stars above them seemed to twinkle in the soft night sky, and a light breeze stirred the air. Fernando pulled her into his arms, wrapping his jacket around her as she nestled closer.

“You know,” he began, his voice soft and full of love, “I’d like to have another child. A third one. What do you think?”

Her gaze met his, and she felt a mix of love and uncertainty. “I would love that, Fernando, but I’m not sure I can go through it all again. After… everything we’ve been through. I’m scared.”

Fernando’s expression softened as he kissed the top of her head, his arms tightening around her in a protective embrace. “You don’t have to be scared. Whatever we decide, I’m here with you. And no matter how many children we have, we’ll have everything we need because we have each other. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her heart swelled at his words. She had always known Fernando was a strong man—on the track, in the spotlight, and in their home—but it was moments like this, when his vulnerability shone through, that made her love him even more.

“I love you so much, Fernando,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. “You make me feel safe. You make me feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

His lips brushed against her forehead, a soft kiss that spoke of love, of promises made, and of the beautiful life they had created together. “And I will always love you, mi amor. You are my everything.”

As the night continued, Fernando and his wife held each other close, their hearts full of love, their bond stronger than ever. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of their family and the quiet of the night, they both knew that no matter what the future held, as long as they had each other, they were home.

[verstappensrealwife]

Omg???

[5sospenguinqueen]

Toy Cars Pt 2 | Fernando Alonso x Mum! Reader

Summary: After some reflection (and maybe a scolding from your son), Fernando realises that toy cars, alongside karts, might make his life a lot better.

Warnings: angst, fluff, reconciliation

just a short one 

F1 Masterlist

prev.

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yn_ln just posted

liked by prema_team, formula2 and others 

yn_ln when i’m missing my twins, at least i have bearnelli’s antics to keep me going

7,994 comments 

kimi.antonelli thanks for watching over us, mum

→ yn_ln keeping you out of danger is the more appropriate term

olliebearman appreciation post? finally. only taken almost a year of being your grid son 

→ yn_ln because i tell you how much i appreciate you in person??

→ prema_team they need online validation. they’re teenagers 

user1 not bearnelli calling her mum 🥲

user2 the bear in the airbox is sending me

→ olliebearman y/n found it for me, said her baby bear had to have a bear?

→ user3 baby bear!! 

→ user4 somebody get this woman some more kids please

→ kimi.antonelli she has us and the twins. she doesn’t need any others otherwise we will have less attention

user5 anyone else find it weird not seeing fernando hanging around the prema garage? 

→ user6 he’s always caught watching the f2 races so he can see y/n :( 

→ user7 i’m guessing he was told to stay away now they’re not together anymore? 

user8 fernando was still there for the f2 race but he was in gabi’s garage 

→ user9 pretending to do manager duties but using it as an excuse to stare at y/n like a lovesick puppy 

liked by gabrielbortelo_ 

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replies

user10 is he really their step dad if he’s no longer with their mother?

→ user11 yes! because he’s known them for years and he���s always said that they’re his, regardless of blood or distance

user12 fernando is the physical embodiment of the ‘dad who stepped up’ meme 

user13 the ultimate daddy 

user14 okay but can we shelf this for a second to talk about how we got a fernando and y/n interaction today??

→ user15 WHAT! why isn’t FA14 twitter talking about this instead 

→ user16 yes but they were so awkward together, bless

→ user14 he made sure to keep like 2 feet of space between them the entire time they were talking

→ user16 but she actually smiled at him! we had a smile by the end of it 

→ user17 that smile made fernando look like all of his dreams came true 

→ user18 y/n and fernando reconciliation??

→ user19 we need the twins to parent trap them 

user20 nice to see that we all have daddy issues

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astonmartinf1 just posted

liked by gabrielbortoleto_, lance_stroll and others

astonmartinf1 a tough day for the team with a wet dnf for lance and our #14 coming home in p14. proud of them both on an unusual race day here in sao paulo. here we come sin city 

8,866 comments 

user1 no but did anyone else see that fernando had be lifted out the car by his mechanics?? 

user2 i hope fernando is okay. his radio had me in bits 

→ user3 he sounded so upset and exhausted

user4 i have so much respect to fernando for finishing the race despite his pain so the mechanics didn’t have to deal with a double dnf 

user5 him finishing his race for the mechanics whilst in agony goat

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yn_ln just posted

liked by chloestroll, fa_alonsokart and others 

yn_ln this is much better than spending another weekend in an empty nest 

8,140 comments 

olliebearman i think you should’ve stayed home to look after me instead 

kimi.antonelli can’t believe you left the country without me :(

user6 not bearnelli suffering whilst their mother is living her best life 

user7 the twins and bearnelli got her so stressed, she fled the country 

kellypiquet i am not at all jealous of those cocktails 

→ yn_ln not long and you’ll have cocktails and a gorgeous baby to bring to brunch 

→ kellypiquet baby brunch sounds like a brilliant idea 

→ user8 chat, i don’t think yn was the one who didn’t want more children. she seems to love babies 

user9 excuse me, why do i see two glasses? 

→ user10 maybe she went with a friend

→ user11 a special friend 

user12 fernando fell to his knees at the sight of this post

→ user13 i hope not. he wouldn’t be able to get back up

astonmartin added to their story

astonmartin shh, we have a secret #valkyrie  

user1 replied excuse me, is this a wedding car!! 

user2 replied no because who is commissioning a personalised AM wedding car 

user3 replied wtf is that fernando? am I crazy? tell me that’s not the side of fernando’s head 

user5 replied surely AM would only make a wedding car for someone really important 

fernandoalo_official replied looking good  

fernandoalo_official just posted

liked by astonmartinf1, gabrielborteleto_ and others 

fernandoalo_official lance taught me what a photo dump was 

14,028 comments 

jensonbutton haha the pic of the twins

→ fernandoalo_official he did immediately drop his brother afterwards. wasn’t too impressed with being beaten

user6 the wedding ring and the baby belly 🥹 they went from being apart to having a whole life together

aussiegrit has y/n been waxing your legs again, mate

→ yn_ln if i have to deal with his baby squeezing my bladder, he can deal with my yanking out his leg hairs 

lance_stroll this is what we call a very nice photo dump 

→ astonmartinf1 all our favourite people in one place

user7 omg the aston martin valkyrie was their wedding car

→ user8 not aston martin hard launching them before they did

→ user9 was it really a hard launch if none of us were smart enough to figure it out

user10 a baby nando? he’s finally going to have his own child 

→ fernandoalo_official i already have 2. we’re just adding a third 

→ olliebearman a fourth

→ kimi.antonelli excuse you, a fifth

→ maxverstappen1 i was here before all of you

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Baby Fever Angst Series

I've had a few requests to do these with some of the other drivers and whilst I appreciate all the love this series has had, I'm running out of ideas to vary these without delving into some sensitive topics

tag list

@caroto-porta-world-blog @anoukformula1 @lightdragonrayne @thatsnotaddy @anayaverse @honethatty12 @number08 @thefinnishfrom1999 @royallybrit @hippopotamusdreamer @raizelchrysanderoctavius

[pucksandpower]

Pequeña

Happy Nation: A Series of Standalone Fics

Fernando Alonso x Webber!Reader

Summary: a brutal breakup leads you right into the arms of one of your father's oldest friends (or in which being sooooo normal about Fernando Alonso runs in the Webber family)

Warnings: 18+ content, age gap, taking advantage of an emotionally vulnerable state, breeding, and pregnancy

You sit hunched on your bed, knees pulled up to your chest as tears stream down your face. Your mobile vibrates again and you swipe away another message from your now ex-boyfriend without reading it. How could he do this to you? You thought what you had was real.

Your thoughts drift to home, to your family thousands of miles away in Australia. You long for your dad’s comforting embrace and your mum’s reassuring words. But they’re so far away. You feel painfully alone in this strange English city where you’ve come to attend university.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re dialing a familiar number. It rings three times before a warm voice picks up. “Hola pequeña! What’s wrong?”

“N-Nando ...” You sniffle, trying and failing to keep your voice from cracking. “He … he cheated on me.”

There’s a pause before Fernando responds, his Spanish lilt taking on a protective edge. “That little hijo de puta. I’ll kill him myself.”

You let out a watery laugh. “No, don’t do that. I … I just miss home. Miss my family.”

“Say no more, pequeña. You’re coming to stay with me for a bit, yeah? Can’t have you all alone like this.”

You hesitate, wiping at your tears. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose ...”

“Impose?” Fernando laughs. “My favorite girl? Never. I’m sending a car to get you right now.”

“No, no, I can drive myself-”

“You’ll do no such thing in this state,” he chides. “Driver’s on his way. Go pack a bag.”

You open your mouth to protest again but think better of it. Fernando can be extremely stubborn when he wants to be. “Okay, okay. Thank you, Nando. Really.”

“De nada, pequeña. I’ve got the guest room all ready for you. We’ll get through this together, yeah?”

His soothing Spanish accent is already making you feel infinitely better. You know Fernando has been close with your family for years, has watched you grow up into the young woman you are today. He’s always treated you like his own daughter.

“I’m looking forward to it,” you say, meaning it. Spending time with Fernando is guaranteed to lift your spirits. “Your place in Silverstone, right?”

“That’s the one. Get packing and don’t worry about a thing. I’ll see you very soon.”

You hang up and immediately start throwing clothes and essentials into an overnight bag with a renewed sense of hope. Fernando always knows just what to do to make you feel better.

Two hours later, you’re being ushered into the backseat of a sleek black sedan by a courteous driver in a pressed suit. He takes your bag and stows it in the trunk before sliding behind the wheel.

“Miss Webber? I’ll be taking you to Mr. Alonso’s residence now.”

You nod, suddenly exhausted from all the crying. The driver seems to sense your melancholy because he doesn’t try to make small talk.

The English countryside whips by in a blur of green fields and quaint villages. Before you know it, the sedan is pulling up to an impressive brick estate surrounded by beautifully manicured gardens.

The driver lets you out and leads you up to the front door, which swings open before you can knock. Fernando stands there in a soft white sweater and dark-washed jeans, arms open wide.

“Pequeña!” His eyes crinkle at the corners as he pulls you into a fierce hug. “Welcome, welcome.”

You breathe in his comforting scent of sandalwood and citrus as he rubs soothing circles on your back. “I’m glad you came,” he murmurs.

He ushers you inside and you can’t help but gape at the tasteful, modern interior decor. It’s bright and airy, with huge windows offering views of the impeccable gardens beyond.

“This place is incredible, Nando,” you say, trailing behind him as he leads you through the spacious living room towards what appears to be the kitchen.

“You like?” He grins over his shoulder. “I had it remodeled not too long ago. Here, have a seat.” He pulls out a barstool at the huge kitchen island.

You take a seat, settling your elbows on the cool granite surface as Fernando busies himself at the stove. “So,” he says without turning around. “Tell me everything, from the beginning. Don’t leave out a single detalle.”

You sigh, resting your chin in your hands as Fernando starts pulling ingredients from the fridge. “Well, it started a few weeks ago. ..”

You recount all the little things that, in hindsight, were red flags: the constant emailing and texting, the unusually long nights “studying” at the library, the bizarre excuses. Fernando listens intently, occasionally tossing in a sympathetic “maldito idiota” or an indignant shake of his head.

Finally, you get to the part where you finally confronted your now ex about his shady behavior … only to have him confess that he’d been cheating on you for months with some underclassman sociology major.

By the time you’ve finished, your voice is thick from holding back a fresh wave of tears. Fernando sets down the knife he was using to chop vegetables and comes around the island to pull you into another hug.

“Oh, pequeña,” he murmurs into your hair. “Lo siento mucho. You didn’t deserve any of that, you hear me?”

You just nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Fernando rubs your back again before pulling away, hands on your shoulders so he can look you square in the eyes.

“Listen. That boy?” A feisty glint enters his warm hazel eyes. “He’s a fool, a complete and total imbecile for hurting someone as incredible as you. You’re so brave, so strong, so full of life ...” He tucks an errant strand of hair behind your ear. “And any man should consider himself the luckiest in the world to have you in his life, you understand?”

You manage a watery smile and nod again. Leave it to Fernando to know exactly what to say to begin mending your broken heart.

“Good.” He straightens up, clapping his hands together decisively. “Now dry those tears, pequeña. I’m making my famous seafood paella for dinner tonight and I’ll need my best assistant chef!”

You let out a surprised laugh, swiping at the dampness on your cheeks. “You know I’m a disaster in the kitchen.”

“Nonsense!” Fernando waves a dismissive hand as he returns to the cutting board. “Everyone can learn with a little guidance from Chef Nano, no?”

The next couple of hours pass in a blur of cheerful chopping, stirring, and laughing as Fernando walks you through the steps, nudging you gently whenever you veer off course. It’s impossible to stay weighed down by your sadness when he’s cracking jokes in that irreverent way of his and peppering you with silly kitchen nicknames.

By the time you’ve portioned out the fragrant saffron rice studded with shrimp, mussels, and clams into bowls, you’re doubled over in a fit of giggles from Fernando’s dramatic retelling of his past Formula 1 antics.

“... And then this crazy Australian madman comes barreling into the pit and just starts laying into me!” He throws his hands up, eyes dancing with mirth. “If Charlie hadn’t stepped in, I think your old man really might’ve killed me that day!”

You shake your head, still laughing as you take your first bite of the paella. It’s absolute perfection, the flavors melding together in an incredible symphony on your tongue. “My dad really went after you?”

“Oh yeah,” Fernando chuckles, digging into his own bowl. “We were like two crazed animals back then whenever we were on the track together. Couldn’t stand each other.”

There’s a lull as you both focus on eating for a few minutes. When you’re pleasantly full and satiated, you sit back with a contented sigh.

“Nando, that was hands down the best paella I’ve ever had.”

“You flatter me too much.” He waves a hand, but you can tell he’s pleased. “Just wait until tomorrow, when Chef Nano teaches you how to make the perfect tortilla Española, eh?”

The idea of getting to spend more time with Nando and being cooked for brings a genuine, untroubled smile to your face for the first time in days. This is just what you needed to start healing from your recent heartbreak.

***

As you help Fernando clear the dishes, a comfortable silence settles between you. He pours you both generous glasses of his favorite Spanish rioja and you retire to the plush living room sofas.

Fernando settles into the overstuffed armchair across from you, stretching out his lean legs as he takes a sip of wine. “So, pequeña ...” He fixes you with that warm, piercing gaze. “What is it you really want? In a man, I mean.”

You pause, considering his question as you swirl the ruby liquid in your glass. “I … I’m not sure I know anymore, to be honest. I thought I had it all figured out with ...” You trail off, unable to even say your ex’s name without a pang of hurt lancing through you.

Fernando reaches over to pat your knee comfortingly. “Hey, no more tears, okay? That pendejo is in the past. I’m asking what your ideal partner would be like going forward. What do you want, need, deserve from a man?”

You take a fortifying sip of the bold, peppery wine before responding. “I think … more than anything, I just want to feel cherished. Valued. Like I’m the most important person in his world.”

Fernando’s expression softens. “Oh, pequeña. You have such a big, beautiful heart. Of course that’s what you want — to be adored and treated like the incredible woman you are.”

You duck your head, warmth blooming in your cheeks at his praise. “I don’t know, Nando. Maybe I’m just being naive or asking for too much ...”

“Claro que no!” He leans forward, pinning you with an intense look. “You’re allowed to want those things, pequeña. You’re allowed to be selfish when it comes to your heart and what you need to be truly, deeply happy.”

His words resonate somewhere deep within you and you find yourself nodding slowly. “You’re right. I am allowed to want someone who makes me their whole world and never takes me for granted, aren’t I?”

“Exactamente.” Fernando reaches over to grasp your hands, his calloused fingers engulfing yours. “And let me tell you — any man who doesn’t give you that is un verdadero idiota. You deserve to be cherished, worshipped, put up on a pedestal every single day.”

His dark eyes burn with conviction, lips pressed into a serious line. You find yourself unable to look away, mesmerized by the sheer intensity of his words and manner.

“You deserve everything, pequeña,” he continues in a low, gravelly tone. “A man who makes you his whole priority, who loves you with every fiber of his being. Someone who will lay the world at your feet.”

Fernando reaches up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb stroking over the apple of your cheekbone reverently. The calloused pad of it sends a shiver racing down your spine.

“Someone who looks at you and can scarcely breathe for how lucky, how blessed they are to have you in their life ...”

His face is so close to yours now, his warm breath caressing your lips. You’re completely transfixed, body thrumming with barely restrained tension and … anticipation?

Fernando’s next words are barely more than a hoarse rumble. “I will cherish you, pequeña. Always. Allow me to show you how a real man adores the woman he loves.”

And then his mouth is on yours, hot and insistent and tasting of wine and desire. You gasp into the kiss, frozen for a split second before melting against him, kissing him back with equal fervor. Your hands slide up to tangle in the soft strands at the nape of his neck as he angles his head, deepening the heated exchange.

Fernando groans low in his throat, the vibrations shooting straight to your core. His large, nimble hands come up to frame your face, holding you in place as he takes his time thoroughly exploring your mouth, nibbling at your lips, stroking his talented tongue against yours in a way that has you whimpering into him.

He pulls away slightly and you chase his lips with a soft keen of protest. Fernando chuckles darkly, nosing along your jaw.

“Patience, pequeña,” he rumbles against the sensitive skin just below your ear. “As sweet as that gorgeous mouth is, there are so many other parts of you I’ve been longing to taste ...”

A full-body shudder wracks you at his words, at the sheer need and promise lacing his tone. Part of you is stunned by how quickly the atmosphere between you has shifted, how easily you fell into his passionate embrace.

But a much larger part — the part that has admired and idolized this man since you were knee-high — is utterly intoxicated. Delirious with the knowledge that the love you’ve secretly harbored for Fernando for years is, impossibly, reciprocated.

His mouth is trailing hot, openmouthed kisses along the column of your throat and you tilt your head back with a wanton moan, reveling in the rasp of his day-old stubble against your sensitized skin.

“N-Nando ...” You try to put a protesting note in your voice, but it comes out a pleading whine instead. “Are you sure about this? I’m … I’m just a kid to you.”

He rears back to pin you with a look so full of naked want it makes you squirm. “You stopped being a kid a long time ago, pequeña,” he growls. “I’ve been watching you grow into this gorgeous, fiery woman and it’s taken everything in me not to take you into my arms like this until now.”

His hands roam down to palm your waist, fingers flexing possessively against the dip of your sides. You’re breathless, dizzy, wondering if you’ve stumbled into some incredible, wildly realistic dream.

Because surely this — with your longtime crush, the older man you’ve harbored forbidden fantasies about pulling you flush against his strong frame and lavishing kisses up the side of your neck — cannot be real. Can it?

“It’s real, pequeña. So, so real,” Fernando croons, as if reading your mind. He frames your face again, searing you with another passionate kiss that steals your breath and chases away any remaining doubts. “Feel how real it is,” he murmurs, guiding your hands down to the firm evidence of his arousal straining against the soft denim.

You whimper into his mouth, tentatively palming the thick bulge. Fernando hisses in a sharp breath through his teeth and breaks the kiss to press his forehead to yours. His eyes are tightly shut, long lashes fanning across sunkissed skin.

“F-fuck, pequeña,” he chokes out in a ragged voice. “Been dreaming of those little hands on me for years.”

Something inside you shifts at his confession, like a dam of long repressed want and need cracking open. You suddenly feel bolder, empowered by the effect you’re having on this man — this god among men who you’ve put on a pedestal for so long.

Maintaining heated eye contact, you slowly drag your hand up the length of his erection in one firm stroke that has Fernando’s hips jerking up as he curses vehemently in Spanish.

“Like this?” You rasp, a blatant challenge in your tone as you repeat the motion.

Fernando’s eyes flash hungrily and then he’s surging forward again, capturing your lips in another punishing kiss that leaves you lightheaded and alight with lust.

“Just like that, mi amor,” he growls when he releases your mouth with a final nip at your lower lip. “Now it’s my turn to cherish you ...”

With that, he loops an arm behind your knees and rises in one smooth, powerful motion, hoisting you up into a secure bridal carry. You yelp in surprise, hands flying up to cling to his broad shoulders.

“Nando! What are you, mmph-”

Your protest is cut off by his mouth slanting over yours in another heated kiss. Fernando maneuvers you easily as he starts carrying you towards the staircase, hiking your dainty linen dress up around your thighs.

“I’m making good on my promise, pequeña,” he murmurs hotly against your swollen lips. “Bedroom. Now. Going to lay you out and cherish every sweet inch of that gorgeous body, just like you deserve.”

Unbidden, a soft whine slips from your throat at his heated words. You tighten your grip on his shoulders, fingers digging into the firm muscle there as a fresh wave of arousal floods through you, hot and insistent.

Fernando chuckles darkly, adjusting his grip on you as he starts up the stairs. “That’s it, let me hear how much you want this too.”

You open your mouth to respond but only a needy whine escapes as Fernando hitches you higher in his arms, the movement causing delicious friction against your core.

“I want, ngh-” Your words dissolve into another needy noise as Fernando nips at the juncture of your neck and shoulder in reprimand.

“Use your words, pequeña,” he rumbles against your tingling skin. “Tell me what you want.”

You don’t have a chance to reply before he’s kicking open a door and striding into what must be the bedroom, depositing you gently onto the plush center of an enormous bed. Fernando looms over you, chest heaving as he rakes his heated gaze over your prone form in a way that makes you shudder.

“Nando, I … I want you,” you finally manage, fighting past your shyness to meet his burning stare. “Want you to cherish me, cherish every part of me, like you promised.”

Fernando’s eyes darken further at your words and he slowly, purposefully begins lifting his sweater, never looking away from you.

“Good girl,” he praises in that deep, gruff tone that has your thighs pressing together instinctively. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

He shrugs off the soft knit, revealing a toned, hair-dusted chest and abdominal muscles carved from years of intense athletic training. You can’t help but drink in the display of his powerful body as he reaches for the buckle of his belt.

Fernando doesn’t miss your frank appraisal, a cocky smirk tugging at his full lips. “Like what you see, pequeña?”

You bite your lip and give a small, shameless nod. His grin widens and with a few deft flicks of his wrist, Fernando’s belt is undone and sliding free of its loops. You watch, rapt, as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans and boxer briefs in one smooth motion.

“Then no more teasing,” he promises in a low, heated rasp. “Tonight you’ll have as much of me as you can handle.”

With that, Fernando pushes his trousers and underwear down over his hips in one go, springing free in all his thick, flushed glory. Your eyes widen and you suck in a sharp breath at the sheer size of him, mouth going dry with naked want.

Fernando steps forward until he’s standing at the edge of the mattress, gloriously nude and incredibly aroused. He crouches down, bringing himself eye-level with your flushed face as he reaches out to gently take your hands in his calloused grip.

“Are you sure, pequeña?” He searches your gaze intently. “Because once I claim you, mark you as mine in every way … there’s no going back. I won’t ever let you go.”

His raw confession hangs in the heated air between you. You meet Fernando’s fiery gaze without faltering, threading your fingers through his in silent acceptance. His eyes blaze and then he’s surging up over you, capturing your mouth in another searing, all-consuming kiss as he slowly, reverently hikes your dress up and divests you of your last remaining garments.

You wind your arms around his thick neck, holding him close as Fernando settles between your splayed thighs with a low, guttural groan. He rears back just enough to pin you with another scorching look, stealing your breath.

“You’re mine now, pequeña,” he vows roughly, guiding his thick length to your slick entrance. “And I’m going to spend all night cherishing this sweet body, just like you deserve ...”

Fernando braces himself above you with one powerful forearm, using his free hand to grip your thigh and hitch your leg higher around his lean hips. You keen softly as the new angle allows him to sink even deeper, filling you up so deliciously.

He drops his forehead to yours, dark eyes locked on your parted lips as he starts rocking into you with slow, measured strokes. Each deliberate grind of his pelvis against yours has you whimpering, nails raking down the flexing planes of his back.

“That’s it, pequeña,” Fernando croons, punctuating his words with a sharp roll of his hips that has you crying out. “Let me hear how good I’m making you feel.”

You try to muffle your sounds against his broad shoulder, but Fernando isn’t having it. He slides the hand not braced on the mattress up to cup the back of your neck, tilting your head so your mouths are a hairsbreadth apart.

“No, no … I want to hear every gorgeous, needy little noise,” he rumbles, lips brushing yours with each scorching word. “Want to hear you begging for more of my cock, stretching you so perfectly ...”

A desperate whine slips free at his filthy words, your walls fluttering around his rigid length in defiant response. Fernando rewards you by capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his talented tongue teasing against yours as he picks up the pace of his thrusts.

You moan brokenly into his mouth, legs locking around his narrow waist as Fernando sets a rhythm of steady, pounding strokes. Each slick glide has you building higher and higher, pleasure bordering on overwhelming. It’s so much after so much time without, yet somehow not enough.

You tear your lips from his with a ragged gasp, throwing your head back against the pillows. “M-More, Nando! Please … ah!”

Fernando grunts in approval at your needy plea, hips snapping forward to bury himself deeper. “As you wish, pequeña ...”

He sits up further on his knees, using the new leverage to drive into you with increased force and intensity. The lewd noises of your joining fill the air — skin slapping against skin, your cries of pleasure mingling with Fernando’s low groans of exertion.

Part of you feels like you should be embarrassed by the wanton sounds spilling from your lips. But a much bigger part is just reveling in the indescribable feeling of being taken apart so thoroughly by this incredible man’s skilled body.

Fernando hooks an arm under one of your knees, nearly bending you in half as he leans down to mouth hot, openmouthed kisses from your collarbone up the slender column of your throat. You keen wildly, fingers spasming against the rippling muscles of his back.

“Do you want it harder, pequeña?” He growls the filthy words against the racing pulse point under your jaw. “Want Papi to fuck you just like the needy little girl you are?”

A choked whimper is all you can manage in response, rendered incoherent by his merciless onslaught against that sensitive cluster of nerves deep inside you.

Fernando’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk against the side of your neck and then he’s driving into you with renewed vigor, hips pistoning in short, brutally powerful snaps that quickly have you keening. Your nails leave stinging welts in their wake as they drag down Fernando’s glistening shoulders and back, but he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

“That’s it, taking me so well,” he grits out through clenched teeth, each word punctuated by a nasty grind of his hips that has you crying out. “Such a good girl for Papi, con esas caderas tan estrechas ...”

His dirty Spanish murmurs nearly do you in, shooting white-hot sparks of pleasure-pain arcing across your nerve endings. You swear your vision nearly whites out entirely when his calloused fingers find your swollen bud, stroking firmly in tight, rapid circles that have you keening.

That familiar, coiling tension is rapidly becoming too much to bear. You can feel your orgasm fast approaching, building and building with each punishing thrust into your greedy little hole and stroke against that hypersensitive bundle of nerves.

“Nando, Nando,” you pant, clutching desperately at his flexing biceps as your thighs begin to tremble uncontrollably. “I’m gonna, ah, fuck, I can’t-”

Fernando’s response is a series of harsh Spanish curses that would make a sailor blush. His mouth crashes against yours in a searing, messy kiss, swallowing your cries as he fucks you right through your release.

Wave after relentless wave of excruciating ecstasy crashes over you. You tremble and wail into Fernando’s mouth, pulled taut as a bowstring as he milks every last exquisite pulse from you with those sharp, unforgiving snaps of his hips.

Just when you think the pleasure searing along every nerve ending will break you into pieces, Fernando’s rhythm falters. He rears back, baring his teeth in a feral snarl that sends a fresh shock of desire arrowing straight to your core.

“Going to fill you up now, pequeña,” he grits out in a gravelly tone laced with strain. “Make you nice and, ah mierda, messy with Papi’s cum ...”

The sheer filth of his words, combined with his furious tempo draws animalistic whimpers from deep in your chest. You lock your ankles at the small of his back, taking him deeper as he starts to lose control.

“Please, Nando!” You beg shamelessly, reaching up to dig your fingers into the straining chords of muscle in his back and shoulders. “Please cum inside me, wanna be yours, wanna-”

Fernando cuts off your fervent cries with a harsh growl and then he’s slamming home one final time, burying himself to the hilt as he spills molten heat deep in your convulsing channel with a stream of strained Spanish curses.

You shudder and cry out at the incredible sensation of being filled so completely, holding him flush to you while he pulses and throbs. Fernando captures your lips in another searing kiss, fucking his tongue into your mouth in time with the shallow rolls of his hips as he spends himself.

Just when you think the incredible intensity of his release will never end, the shrill trill of a ringtone shatters the sweaty, panting silence of the bedroom.

Fernando goes rigid above you, finally breaking the fevered kiss with a curse that shoots straight to your over-sensitized core.

“Fucking hell, now?”

His tone is one of pure annoyance as his darkly tousled head whips towards the nightstand where his mobile is ringing incessantly. One large hand flexes against the sheets beside your head, ready to simply ignore the call.

Until, that is, he sees the caller ID and his entire demeanor shifts from one of irritation to something more sheepish. He immediately sits up on his haunches, the movement tugging at your overstuffed, abused entrance in the most delicious way and drawing a helpless whimper from you.

Fernando fixes you with a heated look, plush lower lip caught between his teeth as he drinks in your disheveled, satisfied state sprawled wantonly across his rumpled sheets. Only then does he make a sudden, aborted movement to grab the still-ringing phone, gaze flickering down to where you’re obscenely joined.

“Don’t you dare pull out,” you pant in warning, clenching down hard around him as he shifts to reach for the mobile. Fernando groans explosively at the vice-like grip, arm falling back to brace himself against the mattress.

“Insatiable,” he accuses with a dark chuckle. He somehow manages to snag the still-trilling phone without dislodging himself and you shamelessly squeeze down even tighter in petty retaliation. Fernando tosses you a smoldering glare that makes heat lick along your nerve endings before he finally answers.

“Hola?” His deep voice is rougher than usual, gravelly from the thoroughly ravished state you’ve put him in.

“Fernando! Mate, it’s me.” Your father’s crisp Aussie tone immediately filters through the speaker and you inadvertently clench down again in panic.

Fernando’s lips peel back in a mild wince before smoothing back into that trademark smug grin of his. He drops his free hand to splay possessively over your lower abdomen, thumb rubbing idle circles into the soft, oversensitized skin there as he regards you with dark, hooded eyes.

“Mark!” He greets your father with forced nonchalance, even as the pads of his calloused fingers dip dangerously close to where you’re still intimately joined. “What can I do for you?”

There’s a pregnant pause during which you can practically picture the slight frown creasing your dad’s brow at Fernando’s strange tone. “Er, sorry to bother you, Nando. I was just ringing to see if my daughter made it to you alright?”

You suck in a sharp breath, eyes going wide as Fernando’s lips quirk up in a devilish smirk. Instead of answering right away, he drags the tip of one finger agonizingly slowly through your damp curls in a wordless warning.

Biting your lip to stifle a moan, you obediently stop clenching your internal muscles, allowing Fernando to sink that few extra incredible inches back inside you with a roll of his hips. His eyes burn with smug satisfaction when you keen softly at the feeling of being so deliciously full.

“She arrived safe and sound,” Fernando finally replies, voice gone low and rough in a way that has your thighs trying to clench instinctively. He holds you open by digging the heel of his palm against your mound, lips twitching when you whimper. “I’m taking very … very good care of her. You don’t need to worry.”

Another pause from your father’s end, this one even longer. You can picture the perplexed furrow in his brow deepening as he tries to figure out the strange undercurrent in Fernando’s tone.

“Right … well, good then. I just wanted to check in and make sure she got there okay after that whole mess with her asshole of an ex.”

You shudder at the memory, hips shifting restlessly against Fernando’s calloused palm in a plea for friction, pressure, anything. He simply watches you squirm with darkly glittering eyes, lazily rubbing his thumb in soothing little circles just below your navel.

“Trust me,” Fernando finally rumbles, voice gone low and graveled in a way that sends a shiver of desire arcing down your spine. “Your little girl is being very well looked after, in every way.”

Your cheeks burn hot at the blatant innuendo lacing his words. Fernando’s smirk widens, like he enjoys seeing you so flustered, before he continues in a tone of exaggerated innocence. “She’s been … quite the handful, really, but I don’t mind.”

Your breath hitches in your throat and you shoot him a betrayed look, clenching reflexively around the thick length still sheathed snugly inside you. Fernando arches one artfully sculpted brow as if in challenge, using his free hand to firmly grip one of your thighs and wrench your legs obscenely further apart in clear retaliation.

You muffle a whimper into the sheets as the new position allows him to grind deeper, that delicious friction quickly unraveling your will to stay quiet. You can already feel the coil of need building rapidly once more with each shallow roll of Fernando’s hips.

“What was that?” Your dad’s mildly bewildered voice suddenly crackles over the line, jarring you back to the reality of the situation.

Cheeks burning with a mixture of arousal and mortification, you blindly grasp for one of the pillows to muffle the series of pitiful noises now spilling past your lips as Fernando ups the intensity of his thrusts.

He leans in closer until the two of you are practically nose-to-nose, teeth sinking into that plush lower lip when you instinctively tighten around him like a velvet vise. Fernando’s eyes roll back briefly before fixing back on you, dark and fathomless as the depths of the Mediterranean.

“Nothing to worry about over here,” he pants through gritted teeth, one hand leaving its bruising grip on your thigh to curl around the back of your neck and pull you into a searing, filthy kiss designed to swallow any incriminating sounds. “Like I said. Just … taking very good care of your little girl.”

There’s one final confused little hum from your father before the line clicks off with a hollow beep. Fernando instantly drops the phone and slants his mouth hungrily over yours once more, all thoughts of the call instantly forgotten as he resumes fucking up into you with renewed vigor.

“My little girl, aren’t you pequeña?” He grates against your lips, punctuating each word with a scorching grind of his hips that has sparks bursting behind your eyelids. “Going to be a good girl and cum all over Papi’s cock again, sí?”

You can only nod wildly in agreement, nails raking down his broad back as that incredible tension inside you winds tighter and tighter. Fernando swallows your cries with his wicked, talented mouth, until finally you go rigid in his arms, back arched as your release rockets through you like a shockwave.

This time Fernando doesn’t even attempt to stifle your hoarse, animalistic keening, merely rearing back to watch in fascination as your complexion colors and your eyes roll back. He growls your name like a prayer, hips snapping erratically as he uses your convulsive flutters to chase his own high. Fernando’s chiseled features contort in pleasure, teeth sinking into his own lip hard enough to draw blood when you bear down with the vise-like strength of your release.

“F-Fuck … gonna … gonna fill you up again,” he grits out, thick cock jerking deep inside your molten depths. “Make you … gonna ah … make you mine forever this time, pequeña ...”

The gravelly promise in his tone somehow penetrates the sweaty, lust-hazed cocoon surrounding you. Your eyes fly open just in time to witness Fernando’s own clenched shut, jaw dropped in a growl as he buries himself to the hilt with one final, bruising grind of his pelvis.

You cry out at the incredible sensation of his release flooding your already stuffed channel with scorching ropes of thick seed. Fernando lets out a shuddering moan of pure gratification, hips working in short, shallow thrusts to pump every last pulse of his sticky essence into your greedy little womb.

When the last tremor of his climax has wrung through him, he drops bonelessly on top of you in a sweaty, panting tangle of sated limbs. You whimper quietly at the delicious feeling of his weight pinning you to the mattress, his softening length still lodged snugly inside as the two of you bask in the afterglow.

Fernando nuzzles into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, pressing lazy, opened-mouthed kisses to your slick, overheated skin. His talented fingers trace abstract patterns up and down your sides, touch reverent as his gravelly voice rumbles against you.

“Going to get you nice and full, pequeña. Fill you up again and again until my baby takes ...”

A violent shudder wracks through you at the filthy promise in his words. Fernando chuckles darkly, gathering you closer against his sweat-slicked chest as his hand drifts down to cup your lower abdomen with tender possessiveness.

“That’s it, let it sink in,” he croons, fingertips rubbing in gentle circles. “My seed taking root deep inside this sweet little womb, putting a baby in your belly ...”

He punctuates the words with a firm press of his palm that has you gasping, walls fluttering greedily around the thick shaft still impaling you. Fernando makes a noise of deep approval low in his throat.

“Going to keep you just like this,” he vows in a tone that brooks no argument, hot and heavy against the sensitive shell of your ear. “Barefoot and pregnant in my bed, that gorgeous body swollen and glowing with my hijo ...”

You whimper at the image his words conjure up — your belly rounded and stretched taut with Fernando’s child, heavy breasts leaking as you cradle his son or daughter. Fernando husks out a laugh at your reaction, nosing along the line of your jaw until you meet his heated gaze.

“You like that idea, don’t you pequeña?” His eyes glitter with a mixture of desire and predatory satisfaction. “Being tied to me forever, in the most permanent way possible?”

You can only nod dumbly, suddenly rendered mute by the depths of your own yearning. Of course you want that — to carry this incredible man’s legacy inside you for all the world to see. To belong to him, completely.

Fernando rumbles his approval against your swollen lips, cupping the back of your head to angle your mouth for a tender, lingering kiss. When he finally breaks away, you try to chase his mouth with a breathless whimper of protest.

“Shh, patience, pequeña,” he murmurs indulgently, thumb stroking over your slick lower lip. His eyes are dancing with dark promise. “You’ll have plenty of time to take your fill of me in the coming months while I breed you over ...”

He kisses the words into the hollow of your throat, teeth grazing the rapid flutter of your pulse point.

“... and over ...” Fernando rolls you onto your back in one smoothly powerful motion, settling his weight over you as he lips trail a blazing path down your abdomen.

“... and over again.” His tongue dips briefly into your navel before he nuzzles lower, nose nudging through your damp curls until his warm breath ghosts over your overstimulated sex. You suck in a ragged gasp, thighs trembling with anticipation as Fernando glances up at you from under those ridiculously long lashes.

“Until it finally takes,” he finishes with a wicked grin before ducking down to swipe one firm lick through your folds. You nearly black out from the electric shock of pleasure-pain, broken cries echoing through the bedroom as Fernando sets to work thoroughly mapping every intimate inch of you with that devilishly skilled mouth and tongue.

True to his filthy promise, Fernando keeps you until the first rosy hints of dawn are just beginning to lighten the horizon outside, thoroughly ravishing your helpless body over and over again until you’re boneless and incoherent with satiation.

It’s only when the first few birds have begun to chirp their morning songs that he finally relents, blanketing you with his solid weight one last time. Fernando’s lips are kiss-swollen as they trail up the line of your throat to find yours in one more long, thorough kiss that leaves you totally plundered.

“Sleep now, pequeña,” he rumbles against your parted mouth, gathering you close as his hand drifts down to splay possessively over the slight tautness of your lower abdomen. “Let my release take nice and deep inside you ...”

You slip into unconsciousness to the sensation of Fernando’s calloused fingertips rubbing soothing circles over your skin and the imprinted promise of his low, sleep-roughened vows.

“I’m going to put a baby in you, pequeña. Going to breed you so full of my children until you’re round and glowing with them … that’s a promise.”

***

Six Months Later

Fernando can’t keep the swell of pride and possessiveness from blooming in his chest as he guides you through the paddock with a supportive hand on the small of your back. His dark gaze keeps flickering down to admire the swell of your belly peeking out beneath the flowing summer dress you’ve chosen for today.

He feels like a conquering king surveying his latest prize as you waddle adorably at his side, the golden sunlight caressing your features and lending a rosy flush to your glowing complexion. Fernando has never seen a more beautiful, ethereal sight than you in this moment — rounded with his child, your body transformed by the life blossoming within.

His hand subconsciously moves to cup the subtle curve of your belly as you pause to allow a team member to pass. Fernando feels a fresh surge of scorching desire and smug satisfaction race through his veins when you instinctively cover his hand with yours, cradling his palm against the taut swell.

“Easy there, pequeña,” he rumbles with a wolfish grin, leaning in until his lips brush the delicate shell of your ear. “We’re in public, remember? Wouldn’t want to give these pendejos an eyeful of how insaciable my little girl has become since getting knocked up ...”

A delightful shiver visibly ripples through you at his words, those gorgeous eyes fluttering shut for the briefest of moments before fixed back on him blown wide and dark with rekindled want. Fernando lets out a low chuckle of approval, arm winding around your waist to pull you flush against his side.

Just then, a familiar figure comes striding around the corner, brows low and thunderous as they zero in on the embrace Fernando has you locked in. Mark Webber falters mid-step as he takes in the rather obvious changes to your body, chin dropping in a comical picture of dumbstruck shock.

Fernando can’t resist angling the two of you forward just enough to emphasize the prominent curve of your belly straining against the flowy fabric of your summer dress. He watches your father’s expression morph from surprise, to confusion, then slowly … realization as the pieces begin to click into place.

Within seconds, Mark’s eyes have narrowed to slits of rage, mouth curling back in a snarl of anger as he picks up his pace and stalks towards the pair of you. Fernando’s own smug expression slips, features settling into a hard mask as he angles his body slightly in front of yours on instinct.

“You motherfucking piece of shit-” Your father snarls, face taking on an alarming reddish hue as he rears back and swings at Fernando.

Fernando manages to sidestep the worst of the blow at the last second, feeling only a glancing impact against his left cheekbone before Mark closes in again with balled fists raised. Behind him, you let out a strangled cry of dismay, reaching out helplessly to grasp at the back of his shirt.

“Dad, no! Fernando, please-”

But Fernando is already sinking into a fighting stance, knees slightly bent and weight evenly distributed. He blocks another wild swing from Mark with ease, allowing the Australian’s momentum to carry him past so Fernando can land a swift, open-handed punch against the side of his head.

The sharp retaliatory crack has Mark stumbling sideways, snarling like an enraged animal. For one brief, wildly intense moment, the two former rivals simply square off — sizing one another up like they’ve done a hundred times before on various circuits when they were both still competing.

From anyone else, Fernando might have been able to laugh off this overreaction, shrug it aside as the misguided anger of a hotblooded father learning his young daughter is now expecting. But this is Mark Webber — a man who has proven himself as fiery and formidable an opponent as they come.

Fernando won’t admit it aloud, but a tiny thrill of excitement races through him at the prospect of a proper throwdown with his old nemesis turned friend. He throws you a quick glance over his shoulder, assessing if he needs to move you further away before the situation escalates.

You surprise him by shaking your head adamantly, those beautiful eyes blazing with protective fury of your own as you plant yourself squarely in between the two men.

“Fernando, don’t hurt him,” you plead, gaze flickering between him and the bristling Aussie now clambering back to his feet. “He’s just-”

“Being a bloody psychopathic bastard,” Mark spits, wiping a hand across his rapidly swelling lip. His hateful glare lands accusingly on the prominent swell of your middle. “Fucking hell , Nando. She’s just a kid-”

Fernando feels his own temper ratcheting up several notches at the venom and dismissal lacing the other man’s tone. He takes an aggressive step forward, forcing you back behind the shield of his powerful frame.

“Don’t talk about her like she isn’t here to defend herself,” Fernando growls, unconcerned that they’re rapidly drawing an audience from the swarm of crew personnel surrounding them.

He arches a challenging brow at your father’s scathing glower. “What’s wrong? Upset that while you were off galivanting around the globe, I was putting a baby in your daughter’s belly?”

Mark lets out an outraged roar, lurching forward to throw another wild haymaker that Fernando easily ducks under. You cry out in distress, hands coming up to grip at Fernando’s biceps from behind as you try to bodily pull him away from the furious Australian’s reach.

“Both of you, stop!” Your shrill voice cuts through the tense alleyway, causing both men to pause for a split-second and glance towards you. “Nando, don’t provoke him! And you-” You aim an accusatory finger at your seething father. “Lay one more hand on Fernando and I swear to god-”

Whatever heated threat you were preparing goes unvoiced as a sudden aura of pain visibly ripples across your features, brow furrowing and lips parting on a pained gasp. Your hands instinctively fly down to cradle your belly, entire body locking up with tension.

Fernando’s heart leaps into his throat as he recognizes the clear signs of distress from months spent doting upon your every subtle twinge and discomfort. Immediately, his previous temper fades into a dull, distant roar easily overshadowed by the all-consuming need to ensure your well-being.

“Pequeña?” He’s at your side in an instant, gripping your upper arms to steady you as a light sheen of perspiration blooms on your brow. “Breathe through it, mi amor … just breathe, okay?”

“I-I’m fine,” you manage in a tight voice. “Just a twinge. The excitement is probably too mu-ahh!”

You gasp again, nails digging punishingly into Fernando’s forearms as your knees threaten to buckle. All hints of masculine posturing flee his mind as Fernando smoothly sweeps you up into a secure bridal carry, heedless of the soft whimpers of discomfort now trickling past your parted lips.

He locks eyes with a stunned Mark over your bent crown, gaze impassive and steady. “You heard her. The excitement is too much. We’re leaving.”

Without waiting for a response, Fernando swivels on his heel and marches back the way you’d originally come with you cradled protectively against his chest. He keeps his strides measured and unhurried, but still manages to put a fair amount of distance between the pair of you and your father’s petulant anger in a matter of moments.

Once you’ve rounded a quiet corner alcove, Fernando gently lowers you to a relatively secluded stack of equipment crates, bracing your lower back and guiding you into a seated position.

“Wait here,” he murmurs against your hairline, dropping a fleeting kiss to the rapidly dampening strands stuck to your brow. Fernando’s fingers ghost down to cradle your belly once more, silently assessing for any areas of increased tension. “I’ll be back in just a moment with some water and a physio, alright?”

You nod weakly, squirming to rest back against the cool metal behind you as another pained grimace flits across your features. Fernando feels his heart clench at the wretched, lost expression clouding your eyes.

Cupping your cheek, he tilts your chin up until you meet his heated gaze. “Don’t look so afraid, pequeña. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”

Fernando leans in until his nose brushes against yours, allowing the familiar closeness and the scent of his cedar and bergamot cologne to soothe you. “Our little one is just reminding us who’s boss, that’s all. But Papi’s here … I’ll take care of both of you, sí?”

You manage a weak smile at that, some of the tension bleeding from your delicate features as you nod against his palm. Fernando presses one more lingering kiss to your brow before reluctantly pulling away.

“I’ll be right back, mi vida. Just breathe deeply for me in the meantime.”

With one final reassuring caress to your belly, Fernando turns on his heel and strides back out into the bustling paddock area. His jaw is set in a tense line, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he mentally catalogs which team staff he needs to track down.

Rounding a corner, Fernando very nearly barrels straight into the rigid form of your father standing there with arms crossed, clearly waiting to waylay him. The Aussie’s expression is thunderous, eyes blazing with hurt and undisguised fury.

“So that’s it then?” Mark bites out in a tone of barely restrained aggression. “You’ve gone and knocked up my little girl. My own daughter, Nando ...”

Fernando holds up a dismissive hand, in no mood to allow your father’s misplaced anger to provoke another confrontation — not when you’re so clearly in distress. “Don’t start with me again.” His tone is low, brooking no argument. “Your daughter is safe and being well looked after, that’s all that matters right now.”

With that, he moves to sidestep around Mark, only to find his path blocked by the other man’s broad chest as he steps directly into Fernando’s space. The former World Champion narrows his eyes warningly, feeling his temper ratcheting back up in the face of such insolence.

“Look, you arrogant Spanish prick,” Mark growls, lips peeling back in a menacing sneer. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing here, but-”

Fernando abruptly cuts him off with a harsh bark of humorless laughter, dark eyes glittering dangerously. “A game?” He shakes his head slowly, expression one of vaguely disbelieving contempt. “You really think that’s all this is to me? Getting one up on you by deflowering your little girl and leaving her pregnant, alone, and disgraced?”

The other man flinches almost imperceptibly at the crass words, clearly thrown by Fernando’s frank disdain. The Spaniard presses on relentlessly. “Any man who would treat a situation like this so flippantly doesn’t deserve to consider themselves a real man at all — let alone a father.”

Mark’s face has turned an alarming shade of puce, whether from shame or sheer unchecked rage Fernando neither knows nor cares. He simply crowds further into the Australian’s space, heedless of how their chests nearly brush with each harsh exhalation.

“Make no mistake, I love that woman and the child she carries more than life itself,” Fernando states with conviction, cadence low and gravelly. “If you’re asking whether I intend to be there for them both as a partner, as a father … my answer is simple.”

He pauses just long enough to allow the weight of his next words to truly sink in.

“For as long as your daughter and my children will have me, you couldn’t pry me away from their sides with a fucking crowbar.”

Fernando holds your father’s seething gaze for one final beat, satisfaction lancing through him at seeing the other man seemingly robbed of his righteous anger. With a curt nod, he finally moves to brush past the speechless Australian without another word —intent on fetching the physio like he had originally set out to do.

Because in the end, Mark Webber’s approval means less than nothing to Fernando. All that matters is rushing back to your side and ensuring your safety and comfort. You and the new life blossoming within you are his entire world now.

As if to reaffirm the point, you suddenly appear around the corner, one hand braced protectively under the swell of your abdomen.

“Nando,” you breathe in a tremulous voice, blindly reaching for him. “The little one misses you ...”

Fernando instantly abandons all thoughts of confronting Mark, or retrieving a physio, or anything else as he rushes to gather you up in his arms once more. He cradles you tenderly to his chest as your fingers twist almost convulsively in the fabric of his Hugo Boss shirt, dark eyes wide and pleading.

Fernando glances down at you cradled protectively in his arms, heart clenching at the distressed furrow of your brow and shallow, panting breaths.

Readjusting his grip, he dips his head to murmur a string of soothing Spanish endearments against your sweat-dampened hairline as he carries you through the winding labyrinth of the paddock. His strides are measured but purposeful, not rushing — he needs to get you somewhere quiet and comfortable to recover from the ordeal.

Finally, Fernando spots a secluded alcove tucked away behind a cluster of tires. He quickly guides you over and gently lowers you onto an emptied workbench, cocooning you against his broad chest.

“There, there, pequeña,” he croons, lips brushing your brow. “Just breathe nice and deep for Papi, just like we practiced ...”

You nod weakly, fingers reflexively flexing against the solid planes of Fernando’s abdomen as you struggle to pull in deep gulps of air. He deftly tugs the neckline of your summer dress aside to expose more of your flushed skin, using the hem to dab away the perspiration beading on your chest and throat.

“That’s it, mi vida,” he praises in that dark, soothing timbre. “Just like that, easy does it ...”

Slowly, the tension bleeds from your features as the worst of the discomfort subsides. Fernando doesn’t dare loosen his supportive embrace, nor does he tear his increasingly heated gaze away from your parted lips as each measured exhale puffs across his skin.

“Better now?” He murmurs, thumb tracing the delicate arch of your cheekbone reverently. A rosy blush stains your complexion when you nod meekly, lashes fanning across those glorious cheekbones.

“Good girl,” Fernando rumbles, helpless not to drink in the gorgeous picture you make — cheeks flushed, lips swollen, eyes glazed with lingering stardust. He grips your jaw in a firm caress, tilting your chin up until your gazes lock.

“Because I must admit,” he husks softly, gaze darkening to molten whiskey. “Seeing you like this, with my child safe inside you … has me feeling quite possessive, pequeña.”

You shudder visibly at his words, tongue darting out to wet those plump lips in a blatant show of want. Fernando doesn’t miss the subtle gesture, allowing his gaze to dip briefly to track the slick path your tongue carves before fixing back on your rapidly dilating pupils.

“Would you like that, hmm?” He lowers his voice to a sensual rumble, skimming his thumb across your lower lip in a wordless command for access. “Having Papi show you just how adored, how cherished you and our little one inside you truly are?”

A whimper catches in the back of your throat as you readily accept the gentle press of Fernando’s calloused digit between your parted lips. Your eyes flutter shut on a trembling exhale as he slowly begins to glide the thick pad of his thumb across that heavenly softness, careful not to scrape the sensitive skin with his nail.

“That’s it, pequeña,” he growls, a tad hoarse as desire visibly burns behind those long lashes. “Suckle for me, let me take care of you both nice and proper ...”

Fernando rocks forward ever so slightly, allowing the swollen curve of your belly to brush against his solid abs with each tiny shuddering breath you drag in through your nose. He keeps up the lazy, hypnotic strokes of his thumb until you’re completely transfixed — hips shifting restlessly against his thighs and soft, muffled mewls escaping past the seal of your swollen lips.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, voice pitched low enough to rasp straight through you and ignite every raw nerve ending. “So sweet and responsive for Papi … going to reward that gorgeous little mouth in just a moment, I promise.”

You whine wantonly around his thumb in response, eyes fluttering back open to reveal pupils blown wide with naked yearning. Fernando chuckles indulgently, thumb tracing the delicate bow of your lower lip one final time before retreating fully.

“So eager,” he tuts without any real admonishment. Leaning in close, he angles his head to brush kiss-swollen lips against the outer shell of your ear. “Don’t fret, pequeña. I’ll take such good care of both of you right here, right now ...”

Fernando drops a lingering series of kisses along the line of your jaw, letting his lush mouth trail lower and lower with each heated murmur.

“Will remind you exactly who you belong to … who made you … who put this child in your belly ...”

His final words are an exhale ghosting out across your thundering pulse. Fernando immediately latches on with his teeth, nipping and sucking a series of stinging, possessive marks into your sensitized flesh that has you arching against him with a strangled cry of pure bliss.

Out here, cloaked in the shadow of the paddock where anyone could stumble across the two of you — your father included — and discover just how thoroughly Fernando has claimed you. The taboo thrill of it all is utterly intoxicating.

As your trembling fingers find purchase in his clothes, dragging him nearer with insistence, Fernando feels that familiar molten lick of possessive pride unfurl deep in his core. You are his now, fully and completely — mind, body, and soon … family.

Just the way it was always meant to be.

[cheriladycl01]

Could you do fic for Fernando Alonso with wife reader? She was with him when both AM's drivers are going to the paddock for media days. And he looks so hot wearing an all white fit. He's doing all sorts of things, like making butterflies in her stomach. With the appearance of all black Lance. Maybe a little suggestive and fluff. Thanks!! :)))

You make me feel - Fernando Alonso x Wife! Reader

Plot: It’s media day, and your husband couldn’t look any sexier …

You’d stayed behind at the hotel having slept in longer than your husband who’d been up since the crack of dawn going for a run around the track before getting ready for the day. You’d taken an extra long shower and more time to get ready, until you basically floated into the paddock.

You hadn’t seen your husband all morning and you were excited to finally see him. You wave at the other drivers you pass that you were familiar with like Lewis and Max before rounding closer to the Aston Martin hospitality.

You make yourself known to the engineers around you, smiling and making conversation with them about today and how they thought it would go.

“Oh, by the way Fernando told us that we should send you too him if we saw you before him!” One of the younger mechanics grins pointing into the glass doors.

“Oh thank you Jay!” You smile before wishing them good luck for the upcoming race and goodbye for now. You make your way through the building sending a hello to everyone who makes your acquaintance.

Eventually you see your husband looking better than ever, he was in a white fit, thanks to his own branding. He had a Kimoa white top on and white karki shorts. When he saw you he immediately found his way over to you.

“Mmmmmm hermosa” he smiles pulling you into him, hugging you tightly.

“How was your morning, you were very sleepy” he grins, holding you at arms length to look over your now bright and awake expression, one very different from your half asleep, grunts and groans as he left you as the sun was just starting to peak its way over the building.

“I had a very good sleep, got to spread out the whole way” you tease looking up at him with a laugh. He laughs with a shake of his head.

“You don’t like me snuggling with you?” He asks, moving a hand to his chest in mock offence. He obviously wasn’t actually offended as he knew you liked to tease him like this often.

“Of course I do. But I do like turning into a starfish?” You grin, and he cocks his head to the side wondering what you are going on about. You attempt to think of the way to explain it in Spanish.

“Mmmm I think it would be estrella de mar?” You explain wondering if there was a more technical word for it.

“Ah yes, you do that even when I’m in the bed though” he chuckles and you gasp.

“I do not!” You say slapping his shoulder lightly.

“But you do, you just … sprawl out over me” he grins pulling you into a quick kiss before a familiar voice interrupts you both.

“Hey guys” Lance’s voice sounds past the loud clinking of coffee cups and plates from the busy hospitality suite.

“Ohhhh my gosh!! My son!! I haven’t seen you in ages” you say pulling him into a hug.

“Ahhh you look so nice! Did Fernando send you those clothes. Kimoa suits you” you grin seeing the branded clothes that he was wearing.

“No, I lost a bet with Daniel, Lando and Fernando that if I lost it I’d have to wear their merch at the next race. Wearing Nando’s today, Daniel’s tomorrow and Landos on Sunday” he laughs.

He looked good in Fernandos merch, as right now they were basically polar opposites. The vision of yin and yang.

“I like it, but aren’t you hot in all black?” You ask looking at the sheen of sweat across his brow that was nearly blocked by his sunglasses.

“A little but hotter in the car, work up that tolerance” he grins before checking his surrounding seeing his sister and running over to pull her into a hug.

You see your husband take two waters from a waitress raining his head to take the drinks a little spilling onto the white shirt. Once he’s done he comes back over handing you the remaining bottle nodding for you to drink it.

Your head cocks to the side.

“It’s a hot day, you gotta keep your hydration up okay?” He nods and you can’t help that swarming feeling in your stomach.

Your husband often gave you butterflies despite having been married for the good portion of 6 years. You always told him that was the best part of your relationship despite you being able to read him like a book, he always managed to have a surprise of two that made you feel like a giddy school girl.

“Thanks, you know you’re the best right?” You smile at him shyly and he looks at you shocked. It wasn’t often that he saw you shy in front of him, but he was always proud when he caught you out like this. So that shocked face slowly turned into a smirk.

“You think so?” He asks and you roll your eyes, a light blush crossing your cheeks as you look up at him.

“You know I do, wouldn’t have married you otherwise” you grit out awkwardly.

“Mmm didn’t tell you that you look beautiful today. Like I don’t even understand how you are my wife” he smiles and you nearly melt. You can’t help but lean up to kiss him.

“I think I’m the lucky one” you say softly and ever so quietly.

“Definitely not. I’m not needed for another few hours, shall we pop back to the hotel room? I think I might need to … change” he grins before pulling you back in for a kiss, taking your hand in his.

“I couldn’t agree more”

Taglist:

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[uniquexusposts]

La Casa de la Princesa

Summary: Y/N and Fernando will be moving to a new home. Y/N's daughter isn't fully aware of the situation yet. Genre: fluff Word count: 1259

Y/N walked down the stairs and walked through her new house. A satisfied smile came to her face as she entered the living room; Fernando was working with friends in the garden on a pink playhouse. She couldn't be more grateful for Fernando. Y/N walked to the garden with a few bottles of cold water and leaned against the wall, observing the builders.

At a sudden moment, Fernando turned around to look for the instructions. But instead, he got distracted by the love of his life, who looked at him from a distance. A wide smile grew on his face, and he winked at her. He straightened his back when she walked towards him.

"Looking good, boys," Y/N smiled. She padded Fernando between his shoulder blades. She handed over the bottles of water.

"Thanks, we're doing our best," one of Fernando's friends said proudly.

"Glad we haven't fucked it up yet," the other said, smirking. "Quite an experience."

Fernando smirked and kissed Y/N. "Anything for my little princess." He looked behind Y\N while wrapping his arm around her. "Where is Luci, by the way?"

"She's still at school. I have to pick her up in thirty minutes."

"Hmm-hmm, I thought it was later already," he admitted. Their eyes locked. "Can I pick her up?"

"Of course, you can. Lucia likes it more when you pick her up," Y/N smirked.

"I'm way cooler than you are," he playfully replied. "Does she know that we have moved?"

She nodded. "She doesn't really fully understand it yet, but she adores the idea of living together with you."

After being in a relationship for three years, Y/N and Fernando finally decided to buy a house together to live there with Y/N's daughter of four years. Luckily, Lucia and Fernando had a special bond. Even though Lucia had a father, she saw Fernando as a father figure too; he was mummy's best friend - Lucia hadn't fully understood the situation yet - and mummy's best friend was also Lucia's best friend.

"See, I'm cool," Fernando winked. It made Y/N laugh and push him away a little. He wrapped his other arm around her as well, pulling her into a loving hug. "How's her bedroom?"

"All set, everything is finished now."

"La Casa de la Princesa is almost finished," he satisfied said. "And then this place is finally ours."

"Uhu, finally." She couldn't stop smiling.

Fernando excused himself from the group to change his sweaty, work outfit for a fresh and casual outfit. He said bye to the others, put on his sunglasses and left the house. Fernando and Y/N found a house that was close enough to the big city, close to Lucia's school and close to both their families: it was a dream house. While he walked to the school, he took some time to explore the new neighbourhood. He never imagined being a family, but he was glad he found his people and formed a family.

Arrived at the international school, Fernando was standing between mothers and nannies. Even though he loved picking up Lucia from school, he still found being that guy between the mothers awkward. He shared a forced smile with one of the mothers.

The school doors opened, and the first tiny humans ran outside. Little Lucia scanned the people in the schoolyard, looking for her mother. But once she saw who awaited her, her face lit up, and she ran towards Fernando. She lifted her arms, ready to be lifted, which Fernando did. "Nano!"

"Hello, Luci," Fernando smiled and hugged the four-year-old.

"I'm so happy to see you," Lucia giggled.

"I'm happy to see you too," he smiled and kissed her cheek. "Shall we go home? To mamá?" The little girl nodded. "Let's go then." He put Lucia back on the ground, and she grabbed his hand. In the other hand, he was holding her small backpack. They started to walk to their new house. "Did you have fun at school?"

"Yes."

"That is good. What did you do today?"

"I had a tea party!"

"A tea party?"

"Yes! With Denise, Hannah and Tessa."

"That sounds fun. And what did you drink?" Fernando looked at the girl.

She looked up at him, her eyes sparkled. "Water!"

A laugh rolled over Fernando's lips, he adored this kid so much. "And did you like it?"

Lucia nodded happily. "I want a tea party with you and mamá, like princesses."

"We will have a tea party like princesses soon, yeh? But first, we are going home."

"Your house?"

"Our house," he smiled.

The two chit-chatted during the entire walk to their new home. Lucia couldn't stop talking about princesses. Once she saw a cat walking by, she had to pet it and ask Fernando about it like he knew the cat. They made a quick pit stop at a playground so Lucia could sit on the swing for a few minutes. It was the small things that made their bond so special.

They entered their new street, and Y\N was already waiting outside. Lucia let go of Fernando's hand and ran towards her mother. Y/N squatted down to embrace her daughter, lifting her off the ground. "Hey, sweetie. How was school today?"

Lucia, still bubbling with excitement, began to talk about her day, animatedly describing the tea party. Y/N listened attentively, stealing glances at Fernando, who stood now next to them, observing the heart warming scene. Fernando couldn't help, but smile at the sight of his two favourite girls. As Lucia continued her enthusiastic story, also about the playground she and Fernando found, Y/N's face softened. She made it. Her family made it. She could feel Fernando's hand on her back, feeling his support and love.

With Lucia chattering away, the three people walked towards their new home. The playhouse in the garden was ready, so that was the first thing Y/N and Fernando wanted to show. They walked around the house to the back garden. And when Lucia saw the pink playhouse, she stopped talking and signed that she wanted to stand on the ground again. A loud cry filled the garden as Lucia ran towards the house. Lucia and Fernando smiled widely.

"Mamá, look!" She jumped around and looked at the four adults standing just a few metres away. She was standing still now. "Can I play in there?"

"Of course, love. It is your new castle."

While Lucia began to explore the playhouse, Y/N thanked Fernando and his friends for building it. "She's over the moon," she added.

"With her reaction as return, I would do it over and over again," one of the friends said.

"We do it for the smile, Y/N. No need to thank us," the other one said.

Fernando wrapped an arm around Y/N, expressing his silent agreement. As the friends said goodbye and left, the trio of Y/N, Fernando and Lucia found themselves still standing in the garden. They took some time to absorb the reality of their new life "This is it, mi amor. Our home," he whispered in Y/N's ear and kissed her cheek.

"Thank you," she replied. She turned to him. "For everything." She rested her arms around his neck.

"Thank you for making me part of your journey."

"I love you." Y/N kissed him.

"I love you."

The excited voice of Lucia filled the air again. She was running towards her mother and bonus father. Fernando lifted her. Lucia put her arm around Fernando's neck and her mother's neck, hugging them.

"Little Luci, shall we explore our new home, and your new room?" Y/N asked.

Lucia happily nodded.

"And then we need a royal feast!" Fernando proposed.

"Yes!" Lucia shouted in excitement. 

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos@crashingwavesofeuphoria@maryvibess