Reckless (m)
Pairing: adult actor!mingyu x pervert afab!reader
Genre: smut
Word count: 4.8k
tags: camboy!mingyu, established friendship, banter, brat!reader, glass toys, invasion of privacy, rough play, anal, double penetration, degradation (pervert, slut), choking, spanking, spitting, oral (giving and receiving), swallowing, hair pulling, deep throating
Summary: Mingyu is a camboy and proud of it, as he should. Finally, he's getting the applause he deserves for his work and will be attending one of the biggest adult industry events to date. He just needs you to watch over while his house while he's gone. Easy enough, right? Unbeknownst to him, you happened to be a fan. A big one. One so big that you cant help but take advantage what Mingyu fans have only ever dreamed of.
author note: finally the awaited winner, camboy!mingyu! still so crazy he won over multiple reverse harems on the poll. tagging my wife @wongyuseokie because it's her birthday and deserves to wake up with some NASTY mingyu smut. thank you @highvern for beta-reading to better this fic and like both of us are saying, mingyu is a fucking freakkk in this so enjoy my babies.
Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @cottoncheol @embrace-themagic @onlymingyus
You have only seen the room in passing personally, but countless times over video. You’re not even shocked by the dozens of expensive toys he’s put in those glass displays, so used to seeing them enter a human orifice one way or the other. The burly man bashfully guides you away from the scandalous room, skillfully diverting your attention to the lush foliage he's entrusted you to tend to, a gentle blush adorning his warm-toned cheeks.
How you keep the fact that you have been secretly watching your friend’s cam shows–including the charity stream of him doing push ups in a singular pair of skintight briefs–was a mystery, even to you.
It’s not like you meant to get addicted to porn. But Mingyu, unapologetic about his line of work, practically served it up on a silver platter for you. He says he could use all the help he could get, but frankly, he couldn’t have it more easy.
With that body, that hair, that face, that smile, there’s no doubt in your mind he’d be a fan favorite and you were right. He’s now one of the rising adult content creators in his line of work, heavily acclaimed in the cam category and recently in independent film. That’s what his trip is about, awarding him for his hard work that he never thought he’d accomplish.
It fills you with pride, yet piques your curiosity; fusing platonic and sensual feelings that blur the lines between friendship and desire for Mingyu, actualizing this full fledged crush. But you’d never let him find that out. Not unless it was against your will.
“And that’s pretty much it. Everything else is pretty self-explanatory. I’ll be back on Tuesday.”
“Tuesday, hmm?” Your eyebrows bounce in place suggestively. “Thinking of pursuing personal projects while working?”
He shrugs like a timid schoolboy, cheekbones pigmented and perky like bright ripe cherries. “No promises—Now, repeat back to me everything I’ve told you to do.”
You playfully roll your eyes, offended he had the gall to doubt you. “Water each green buddy once a day; keep crumbs off tables, counters, furniture, etc; put everything back where it should be; and,” you start to grin, “no sex parties, even though this is the perfect place for it.”
“Okay, that last one was obviously a joke but very much serious. Although tempting, under any circumstances, do not fuck anyone in this house while I’m gone.”
“So circumstances would be different if you were home?”
Getting a shade brighter in red, he points a demanding finger at you like a stern mother, “I mean it.”
“Yes, mom,” sarcasm coating your tongue.
“Good.”
Mingyu, armed with a suitcase containing all his essentials, casually waves you off. There's a playful authority in the final point of his finger, a silent reminder to behave before he disappears behind the imposing door.
You promise him you’ll do your due diligence in taking care of his home, and that would be an easy enough task, the real problem stems from the temptation of one specific room. Mingyu’s cam room.
Distinct from the usual rooms such as the bathroom, Mingyu's kitchen, and his primary bedroom, this space stands alone, akin to an office. Mingyu himself has shared its origin story: starting from the sweetest of riddances of a god-awful roommate, followed by many desperate nights to cover the remaining monthly rent, ultimately giving birth to this room that many of his fans like to call ‘Sinner’s Safehaven.’ So rightfully acclaimed.
You’re a fan of yourself, able to outline the bedroom from memory and recollect every toy from every live stream he’s ever posted. Unable to resist the temptation, your feet instinctively embark on a self-guided tour. Your eyes are bewitched by the intricacies of every weapon of pleasure, every scent of his array of miscellaneous liquids, every phallic-shaped object that stands tall and mighty like a national monument.
It’d be a lie to say you weren’t tempted to take advantage of the opportunity, maybe just to get the sick idea out of the way. Your hands manage to find a mind of their own, reaching over to unlock one of the glass displays, wrapping your hand around the object’s girth, and taking it out from its confinement for a closer view.
A stunning crystal toy that reflects off the lights of the room, looking in pristine condition as if fresh from packaging. If Mingyu is good at one thing it’s maintaining his tools, and he does not let anyone forget.
Ever since he showcased it on screen, you've desired to covet one just like it, inducing a late-night web surf to discover the outrageous out-of-reach prices for a product of such exceptional quality and aesthetic appeal. It does not look to be in the cards for you to own one, but borrowing wouldn’t be a problem. He did say everything only needed to be put back in place and what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
Following the devilish voice whispering in your ear, you slip into something more comfortable, letting the well-conditioned air blow a draft against your bare legs. You hold the toy excitedly before dipping your weight in the bed, the silk sheets and pillowy cushion embracing you at all sides.
The knowledge that the infamous crystal dildo is in your hand makes your heart pound and pussy throb. You can count all the videos of it being featured with one hand, and despite it all, you know it had to be Mingyu's favorite.
One particular video comes to mind as you hold the tip against your inner thigh, moving it identical to the way Mingyu held it against him, realizing they are coincidentally the same length, same girth, and same tantalizing presence. You practically dreamed of having him and this toy inside of you for months after that show and now half of that dream would be possible.
Your fingers didn’t have to be inside you to know you’re wet, practically soaked through your panties the moment you laid eyes of Mingyu and his sex room. Fuck, if you aren’t so damn ashamed of the truth of your feelings, you’d never let him out of your sight.
A long note of your moan exhales as you insert the tip between your wet folds, introducing the strangest yet arousing thing to be done to you. It’s certainly big as you expect it to be, maybe even more as you plunge it in deeper. Affirmations exit your lips in short bursts, your other hand up your shirt as they tease your nipples through your bra.
Your legs crutch in reaction to its ridged shape massaging your walls, then the cool hard surface finds that familiar hotspot, unfortunately only halfway down its length. Your cheeks flush imagining Mingyu’s face, imagining the words to come out of those lips if it were his cock.
‘Already? I haven’t even put it all in yet.’
It fuels your determination, deadset in taking all of it—all of him.
‘You can do it, can't you? You can take my cock for me?’
Somewhere, lost in the contagious air of sex and starvation, your mind runs rampant. Your hips buck into the crystal, letting it settle inside you all the way before you thrust it harder. You hiss at its size, expelling a moan once you no longer feel its shaft around your fingers and just take it, take it as if it a canine smile were on the other end.
‘So good…so good at taking all of my cock.’
“I am being good,” you mumble under your breath. “So good...”
Your whimpers go unnoticed by you, only worried of the dildo carrying on its mission. Sensation running down your legs and arms, and your hips hover over the mattress. Your back arches and you spell his name out in the only way the body fully intends you to: in longing breaths, “Mingyu…please…”
‘What? What is it?’
You groan at the image of his smile. “Let me cum please…”
‘Do you deserve it?’
“Yes, Gyu, please…” You thrust faster. “Oh my god—“
‘Yes, that’s it. That pretty pussy should cum all over my hard fucking cock.’
“Yes, yes!” Your arousal seeps all around you, a visible stain beneath your thighs and you don’t care. “God, right there! Right there—“
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Then it becomes no longer your imagination. The voice you’ve created in your mind had an echo, lingering in the depths of your filth rotted head, but the one you just heard had to be the original.
You scramble to hide under the sheets, eyes as big as saucers as the man of your fantasy stands clear in your reality at the foot of his bedroom. “M-Mingyu. The train.”
“I forgot some things. Couldn’t leave without them, so I told the driver to turn back.” He peers over your situation, intrigued by your legs folded on top of one another beneath the covers, the proof trepidation of your forehead, and your lips swollen from instinctive biting. “What do we have here?”
You laugh nervously, unprepared for the shitshow soon to arise. “I see how this looks—“
“Looks like you’ve had a bit of fun.” He huffs with his arms crossed as he approaches, the human made stain plain in sight on his bed sheets which you’ve fail to cover up. “Too much maybe. And all by yourself.”
“Well, you see—“
“And the mess you made.” His hand pushes against the mattress, leaning over to your side and drinking in your view. “All over my bed. All over my Crystal dildo.”
You avoid his gaze, wishing to disappear in a cloud of smoke right about now. “Okay. You can understand how this would bother you.”
“Oh I’m not bothered by it—not in the slightest—but…you could’ve at least waited until I came back.”
Mingyu pulls the sheets off of you and he exposes your guilt, seeing it in its raw, glistening glory. His eyes scan over you, swallowing at that scent revealed, and a fire lights up in his stomach. “Dirty little pervert can’t stop saying my name while using my toy, hmm? Don’t you know better to touch things that don’t belong to you?”
“I…I…I’m sorry,” You squeak.
“Well, I can’t just let this go now, can I?”
You shake your head, breathing through your nose. You’re scared of him hearing how fast your heart has decided to pound, how wet you’ve become well after your orgasm, and how dry your throat is after you heard him call you a pervert.
Wordlessly, he takes the glass dildo from your fingertips, claiming what’s rightfully his, and plunging between his lips halfway down its shaft. Your eyes capture it in full color, reveling in the moan that slips past his lips. Your chest rises and falls watching him take it deeper almost effortlessly as his slack cladded knees dip into the mattress.
“Mmh…who knew a pervert’s pussy could taste so sweet,” he mumbles, smiling into the toy. It leaves his mouth with a pop before it aims back at you. “Taste it. Taste how sweet your dirty pussy is all over my cock.”
Your stomach coils, reluctantly obliging to crack open your mouth. Mingyu hums, content with what he sees as he eases the toy towards your mouth. “Don’t be shy. Take my crystal cock, perv.”
Your lips wrap around the head, tasting the salty, faintly sweet, flavor lingering on the glass before it travels past your lips.You look back at him, almost as if waiting for his instruction, and receive a stroke on the back of your head as a response.
“That’s it. Let it go deep down your throat. Have to make up for ruining my bed, right?”
You nod, unable to speak as you bob down, licking up what you can and collecting every inch of the toy. His eyes become a dark pit that stares back at you, dominance taking over his entire presence. He doesn’t speak, only watches and for what feels like forever, pushing the toy in and out of your mouth.
Your muffle around its girth, tears starting to brim your eyes as it hits the back of your throat, but it doesn’t falter Mingyu in the slightest.
"You're crying. Does it hurt?" Mingyu asks in a domineering tone, to which you nod. "Do you want me to stop?" he inquires, to which you shake your head.
His lips graze your ear, and you sense his charming smile whispering against your skin as he replaces the imaginary devilish voice with his very real and alluring one. “Then deep throat it like you mean it, you fucking slut.”
Your lips parted wider, a shattered moan aches out, only to have the toy stuck down your throat long enough for your tears to sting. Gasping for air, Mingyu finally shows mercy and unplug your airways. Coughing uncontrollably, salvia dribbles down your chin as you retrieve your stolen oxygen. His hand tenderly caresses at the back of your head, threading through the tangles of your hair.
“Good job,” he says in a hushed voice, picking your face up by your chin. “Now. Do you think that was an appropriate punishment?”
He tucks your hair behind your ear, lethally silent as he anticipates your response.
It takes you a moment to realize where you are, who you're with, and what this all meant for you. Mingyu’s cam persona has haunted your inner thoughts, degrading you as if you were scum, tossing your body like a rag doll, marking and bruising your skin only he would find, and you relished in every earth-shattering, mind-blowing orgasm it’s caused. You’d be a fool to say otherwise.
“N-no. It’s not enough.”
“Is that so,” He questions amused. Slowly, his hand travels from your hair to your face, tracing your jaw in a languid movement and coming across your neck to size it in his large hand. “What will be enough for you exactly?”
The pad of his fingers presses the slightest amount of pressure on the column of your neck, emerging a gasp so soft Mingyu almost doesn't register it. He grins, hot breath fanning your face as he watches your legs squirm. It comes as a surprise to you when he single-handedly pins your body against the bed frame, leveraging you against it before he comes down and faces your pussy drowning its own cum.
“I should at least have compensation done for the damage you’ve made, don’t you think?”
He grips your neck a fraction tighter before you feel his mouth make contact with your core. Physically vibrating, you feel the sensation of his tongue flicking at your clit, and visibly melt before he explores down. “You’re so fucking wet,” he chuckles condescendingly through your arousal. “If I knew any better I’d think you’re wet because of me, as if the screaming of my name wasn’t proof enough.”
“Mingyu...” you whine through your ceased breath.
“And you sound so pretty when you say my name too,” He groans as inhales your scent that blurs his surroundings, devouring you inside and out. “Fucking tease…taste so damn good.”
Mingyu’s chokehold loosens to cascade down your body, fingers moving like ribbons tracing your shape and memorizing every bump and curve through the thin layer of your shirt. Your voice gives out, clenching your fists as he explores you in swirls, moisture seeping out of your cunt but never ending and leaving you in an endless loop of pleasure.
He holds you up by your legs, your thighs crushing either side of his face as he buries himself in your insatiable pussy while its dripping down his chin and neck. He groans inside you, mustering every impish sound possible as he eats you clean, not minding how you’re at the end of your wits locking his head in place.
“G-gyu, shit,” you sputter. “I’m c-close.”
He simply scoffs, “Good,” plunging his tongue deeper, nose pushing against your swollen clit. Words stay lodged down your throat, trapped from escaping as you writhe in his grip and he swallows the taste of you succumbing to his control. You aren’t aware of the eyes watching every second of you give in, how they beam with pride and greed as he goes for more. The notes of fruit and musk only makes Mingyu’s craving intensify, unwilling to surrender the sweet nectar once he’s gotten his taste.
With a yelp, he drops your legs and tugs you toward him, rendering you defenseless as he's clamped either of your side. You drink in his body towering over you as he swiftly pulls his shirt over his head and off his body, bestowing you a deific image that you never grow tired of.
“Shall I help you undress?” He offers, kindly for once.
You drop your head in a reluctant nod and your heart swells at the sight of his smile before they capture your lips, tasting yourself on his tongue.
Mingyu’s movement isn’t needy, it’s efficient and effective. Salty peppermint kisses and hands that move gingerly with ease culminate proof of a man that has countless amounts of partners and endless experience. Almost as if he’s ready for any and every given opportunity and you more than believe it.
Seeing as he knows how to handle himself, undoubtedly that meant he’d know how to handle you. That rouses you, anticipation resonating in the pit of your stomach, and like that, you’ve embraced your nudity just as Mingyu has in the safety of his firm arms.
He manages to kick off his pants, freeing him of the restraint of fabric and his hips dip into yours. And again and again. And again and again. Just to show you what you’ve created in your messy experiment.
If you weren’t already hot under his touch, you swear the room was hotter than any vast desert. Perspiration sprayed against your back, your forehead, your chest, but strangely you’re obsessed with his and the incidentally salty taste of his skin as you kiss. “You feel huge,” you mutter in a flustered breath.
His cock pulsates through his briefs against your thigh, screaming to join the party and make himself known in ways he hasn’t shown yet. Not yet with you. He smiles against your lips, grasping your hips more firmly. More definitely. “It’s too soon to be saying that.”
“Then…” Your fingers, tantalized by the appearance of his styled hair, didn’t resist the urge to comb through it, pleasantly surprised with the silky, pliable sensation. “I hope I get to soon.”
“Pervert,” he repeats with a grin. His hand wraps around your wrist, pulling it away from his head and landing on the hem of his underwear. Mingyu is good at getting back on track as he immediately pulls his waistband away from torso, springing his cock that stands in your direction in determination. A familiar yet foreign sight that you never expected to be on the other end of. “By the way, don’t forget. You’re making it up to me. Not the other way around.”
Naturally, your hand finds the ridged texture of his shaft. “Yes, of course.” You feel it twitch under his touch, growing as a nail trails up a singular vein. “But I never said I’d make that easy.”
“Really? A sentence where ‘you’ and ‘easy’ just seems to fit.”
You sneer at him, calming down after seeing an amicable jab you’re used to. “You’re one to talk.”
“And I won’t be done talking. On your knees,” He demands.
“Or what?”
Mingyu isn’t new to your taunting but he can't help the steam coming out of his ears this time around. Gathering your weight, he swiftly turns you on your stomach and props you up as his cock settles between the cheeks of your ass. “I’ll do things like that. I’m patient until I’m not. Not when it comes to perverted brats like you.”
You voluntarily moan as you back into him, allowing the cock to slide up and down. “I’d like to see it. Unless you’re all talk.”
A familiar coolness of glass finds itself home in your sopping cunt. You mewl at the sensation, rolling your eyes to the back of your head. The side of your head braces for the bed and letting the toy suction your pussy, buzzing . “Fuck…”
“Spoke to soon, didn’t you?”
“Have—fuck—mercy…” Your words speak like pleads but your body could not be more delightful in taking every inch, adjusting from the backside in record time.
“See? Look at you take all that cock,” he spits in the smack center, rubbing around your rim and pussy thoroughly. “And knowing you and our conversations, I know you can take it well somewhere else. Isn’t that right?”
“Y-you wouldn’t…”
“I can. Unless…that’s not what you want. Unless you want me to leave this room without putting my cock in you and not fuck you like the dirty fucking slut you are.”
“Fuck…you…” The glass vanished through you, reappearing at Mingyu's will, muffling your protests, and swallowing the glass dildo satisfyingly from your cunt. The bedsheets become balls in your hand, wrinkled and worn, just as you planned to be after Mingyu is through with you.
“That’s not an answer.” He teases, thrusting faster.
“Shit…fuck…Yes please fuck, I want it. I want more. Please…”
“Excited are you, pervert?” He inquires, managing to grab the lube from a nearby drawer and squirt it on the ring of your hole. The bite of the cool gel stings in a way that’s familiar, but does not grow any easier as it physically and mentally preparing you.
“You…suck…Kim Mingyu…”
“I’ve already done that already, perv.”
Taking the crystal dildo out of your pussy, he carefully sets it aside, prepping your untouched hole for entry and feeling you clenched around his fingers. “So tight. What? Did you lie and you’re actually an anal virgin.”
“I’m not,” you moan in defense, hearing the erotic squelching burns your ears and makes your already hot skin scorching to the touch. His fingers are tolerable, but still bigger you’re used to and it’s more apparent as he inserts another finger. “I just never had anything that big. Nothing your size.”
“I’m honored.”
You hope that his cock could fuck you the way his fingers does, if not then better, already buzzing at the pace they move inside you, stretching you wider and wider.
“F-fuck off.”
“Not yet. It’s coming.” You feel the head of the dildo perk up your rim as it eases in you, the drip of lube between your cheeks drowning your hole and all the moisture it could ask for. Still, Mingyu is careful to adjust to your preference, opening you up and seeing how the toy slowly destroys you inside and out.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your hands slam against the bed, allowing the gradual introduction to take over all your senses.
“You’re taking the cock so well up your ass, fuck. I haven’t seen anyone do that yet. Remember you talking about it, made curious if you actually could.”
“I don’t lie…about stuff…like that…” you spread your ass, offering the perfectly lewd view for Mingyu, practically dripping all for him.
“Shit, I need to be inside you.”
He rolls a condom on his length, tossing the wrapper where he doesn’t see it and teases your slit moist in your cum. In the midst of it, you feel the tip of his cock rubbing your clit, and your whine ensue as you wait for more, not properly being used to the full advantage. Mingyu laughs to himself, seeing how desperate you look, reveling in the sounds that leave your body as it fuels his cock before he plunges inside you.It's an indescribable sensation, almost sacrilegious in its intensity, yet it leaves you convinced that Heaven must reside wherever Mingyu is.
You thought you knew the meaning of being spit open until it’s Mingyu reintroducing the idea. His cock and toy planted so deep inside you, fucking both of your holes until you’re rendered into like what he calls you, a perverted little slut. You don't mind in the slightest; in fact, when the thoughts swirling through your mind are nothing but incoherent, you're utterly indifferent to anything else. Your state of matter was to be fucked, double fucked, and fucked to ruin until you’ve come over and over again.
“Stupid slut…stupid…perverted…fucking slut…Look at you…you like getting fucked in the pussy and ass, hmm?”
“Yes god yes,” you confirm, devoid of words otherwise.
He smacks you full against the cheek, groaning into the sex thicken air as he melts into your body like butter. “Yeah? How does it make you feel?”
“Full…”
“You like that?” Another smack to your ass. “Fucking pervert likes being fucked full. Big fucking surprise.”
His thrusts grow rough, already annoyed by the toy in his hands when he’s eager to plant both on your body and fill the full extent of your body. “God you’re hot,” he mumbles, “Why does a pervert like you get to be so hot, hmm?” He rams into you, feeling you jump back against him.
“Makes me want to fucking drain my cock in you, but no, I have—“ he slams again, a burst of ache living your lips, “—Work! God, I fucking needed this. I needed you and every inch before I needed to leave.”
You’d respond if you weren’t so occupied. He drowns your thoughts out every second he’s inside you, to the point nothing else exists.
“Shit, I have work,” Mingyu repeats as if dawning the thought for the first time. He lets go of the toy and manages to direct it with his thrusts, moving him and the toy into you at the same pace. You scream at him, shattered breaths taking over you, and his name is the only consistent, as you spread yourself wider to take it, left with only the base of the toy and the end of Mingyu’s shaft.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you whine incessantly, shaking and bucking into him until you cum all over his cock, undoubtedly flooding and dripping down the side of your legs.
But Mingyu takes his time and it tastes sweet than any candy, fucking your pussy and ass deeper, harder until his mind as gone as yours is. “Shit, shit, shit. Turn around and look at me.”
You do as told, dildo still in the pocket of your ass, as his cock is aimed at your lips, the condom abandoned just like its wrapper. His hands run in your hair, gripping from the root and he pushes you over the head of his cock, groaning as more pretty souvenir images for him to look back on. “Look at you. Good at taking cock there too?”
You nod, mumbling a confirmation before Mingyu penetrates deeper, noticing him lodged in you throat before bucking his hips in your mouth. “Then take it. Take all of my cum. Can’t leave another mess behind.”
Wide eyes of mischief look back at him, holding him by the back of his cock as you bob against him. He grips tighter to the back of his head, pulling and tugging as your hair become the size of his fists and you feel him hit the back of your throat. He now sees the white of your eyes, the flare of your nostrils, the quiver of jaw before it overwhelms him.
“Fuck, take it.” The load builds up to its full intensity, intoxicating him until theirs tears even in his eyes, the kind that supersedes one of joy.
You hold his hips with both spreadhands, welcoming his release with closed eyes. You mouth gets flooded, blown up so full you’re close to choking, gagging from the contents dispersed in you.
“Take it,” Mingyu says fatigued. “You don’t have to swallow it, but take it.”
But you do swallow it, what you could anyway, and it’s inevitable that you’re a coughing mess when you unlatch from him, dribbling in a concoction of your bodily fluids and cum running along your torso, cunt, and legs.
“Okay,” Mingyu pants, “Now I really need to get to that train.”
You’re catching your breath as he cleans himself off with wet paper towels he had on hands, cleaning off the work of his cock but leaving the rest of him untouched. It’s fine, however, seeing as he glows with an air of lust, making him more charismatic than he normally did, and you’re brimming with pride knowing you’ve caused it. “I’m surprised you have that much energy off camera.”
“It helps, that it’s you.” He timidly admits, raising the temperature in your body. “And who said we’re off camera.” He points to the security camera at the corner of his room, reminding you too late that he’s used to using more than one camera to capture any and all angles. “I even forgot about it for a second.”
“Oh.”
“I can delete it if you want.”
“No it’s okay, but um….Send me a copy.”
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My dearest friend and enemy
Part 1 | Fernando Alonso x Reader
Summary: You and Fernando always dreamed of the day you'd get into Formula 1. Unfortunately, the competition, the pride and the stubborness, get in the way of a beautiful friendship.
Word count: 7.8k
Tags: female!reader, driver reader, coming of age, ups and downs of a friendship, brocedes coded, very very angsty, cursing, anger, fights, overuse of flavio briatore as a plot device, lots of low blows, sprinkles of romance, kissing, making out, happy ending, not beta read
Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader
Note: Someone requested this, with this very detailed request, and it has consumed my every thought for the past week or two. I had to tweak some things from the request here and there, hope it's ok. It's heavily inspired by brocedes. Obviously we don't have all the facts with whatever happened to Lewis and Nico, but I have my own theories, that I tossed around this story here and there. (There is a lot of info that is wrong or inaccurate, I did this on purpose to fit my narrative, if you catch them, please ignore)
I'm sorry if it feels rushed, this was getting way too long and I just wanted to follow my heart. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx
[If you have never listened to Tamino, or never heard this song, please do a favor to your brain and heart, and listen!]
Find me on Twitter!
PART 2 (END)
You wouldn’t cry. You wouldn’t cry.
You repeated those words to yourself as you stared at your fucked up kart, it wasn’t even starting. You didn’t have any more money to repair it, and if you didn’t, then you wouldn’t be able to keep going in the competition.
“Hey, are you alright kid?” Someone stopped you, and your tears fell down. You used the sleeve of your overalls to wipe your face.
“I won’t make it to the final round of the competition,” you pointed to your kart.
The boy knelt down beside you, taking a look at your kart. It was the first time you really looked at him. He was a bit older than you, probably two or three years, since you had seen him in the next category, and you knew he was one of the best from what you could see.
He walked away suddenly, but came back a minute later with a tool box. He knelt down and started tinkering with your kart.
“What- what are you doing?” You asked crouching beside him. He only hummed, seemingly concentrating on his work.
After a few minutes of silence, he asked you to test to see if it would work, and you started your kart, and it did work.
“Oh my god!” You smiled, leaving the kart, “how- how much does it cost?”
“Don’t worry, I wanted to help,” he shrugged, putting back his tools.
“Are you sure?” You asked again.
“Yes,” he stood up, and as his eyes found yours, shining under the sunlight, you smiled at each other.
“Thank you so much!” You said, offering a hand for him to shake.
“I’m Fernando,” he said, and as you said your name back, he smiled a little shyly and just said, “I know.”
“You know?” You whispered.
“Yeah. I’ve seen you in your kart. You’re good.”
You bashed under his praise, cheeks warming and stomach full of butterflies.
From then on, you and Fernando became friends, always meeting up in karting competitions, despite being usually in different categories, since he was a bit older than you. But you’d always be seen together on those occasions, or either of you on the stands, cheering for the other. Your parents knew you were close friends, and after a while, your parents would take turns at taking you two for competitions, usually going together.
You met again when you got to the Spanish Junior Championship, it was your first time at that competition and it would be Fernando’s third. Your rivalry was mostly playful in that competition, you were still the best of friends, even when you got close to his score, you still managed to leave the rivalry on the track. When it ended and you stared up at Fernando from the second place podium, you felt proud of him, happy even. You understood that he had more experience than you, winning that competition three times in a row, and you always would have next year to catch up to him.
That day when he took your hand to walk back to his dad, he held your hand tight. And when they dropped you off at home, you winked at him.
“I’ll catch you next year.” You walked to the door hearing him and José Luis laughing back in the car.
You didn’t manage to catch him next year. Fernando reached new heights as he moved up to world championships. Life took you apart, and without your greatest opponent in the championship, you took it home for three years in a row.
The next few years, you and Fernando were mostly apart. The distance was eating you thin, even when you two managed to talk for a couple of hours on the phone, or whenever he sent you letters talking about his biggest achievements. You still saw each other over summer and winter, which was what mostly kept your bond strong. You also managed to kart for fun sometimes, or go for ice cream, or just sit on the porch of your house, talking about life. You two always shared an ice cream on your birthdays, a tradition that was born ever since you were 13, and you and Fernando gathered together every coin you had to be able to buy one ice cream cone that you happily shared sitting on a sidewalk.
“We’ll make it to Formula 1 one day, Nena.”
You laughed. Despite being the greatest dream of them all, by that time, it had been twenty years since the last woman had been in a Formula 1 car, really competing. You wanted to, so bad, but you didn’t want to get any hope for it to be crushed later on.
“You, most likely, Nano. You’re brilliant, I’m sure you’re going to be a world champion one day,” you said, playful, “just don’t forget us peasants when you’re rich and famous.”
“You have too much faith in me, Nena,” he shook his head.
“No, I just know stuff. When you get your world championship, I hope you will hear my voice in your head telling you I told you so.”
He laughed it off.
Fernando extended you a bottle of cheap wine, it was his way of celebrating your 18th birthday, now you were of age. The wine warmed you up, leaving a pretty stain in both of your lips.
“What about that girl you liked? Are you dating her yet?” You asked to break the silence.
“No…” he shrugged then took the bottle from you to take a chug straight from it, “she’s not for me.”
“I’m sorry,” you said, even though he didn’t look particularly unhappy about it.
“Don’t be. It was just a silly crush,” his lips turned down, “The girls don’t find me attractive enough,” he shook his head, feeling shy for having this conversation with you, “and I don’t know, I’ve always been a little shy, I guess. I don’t have much experience in romance. None, if I’m being honest.”
“None?!” You sounded shocked at his lack of romance. He just shook his head.
At eighteen you had your fair share of teen love, having crushes here and there, sometimes even sharing kisses under the bleachers at school. Fernando was your best friend and you knew him like no one, and you could see that he was lonely and feeling embarrassed, up until that point, his life had been school, karting and work to fund his karting.
“Would you like to?” You asked, suddenly turning to him after drinking a sip of courage from the wine bottle.
“Like to what?” He frowned.
“To be kissed?” You whispered, and looked behind you, inside your house, where your parents were inside.
Your heart raced faster than you ever did, his pretty eyes looking for your face, trying to find any sign of joking, like you were just being silly. But you were serious, looking at his face intently. You were about to back pedal when he nodded softly.
“What-” his voice failed, and he gulped nervously, “what should I do?”
“Just follow my lead, and you will feel what to do,” you said, extending a hand and holding his face, “close your eyes.”
He did, and you just closed the distance quietly, but when you had barely touched his lips with yours, he bursted out laughing, leaning back. You also laughed at the strangeness of the situation.
“It’s ok, we don’t have to, Nano” you recovered, but he shook his head, giggling.
“No, sorry, sorry! You’re my favorite person, I trust you,” he sighed, closing his eyes again.
You held his face, trying to get closer again, and this time he let you. With a soft press, you pecked his lips for a couple of seconds. You felt butterflies in your stomach, and they pushed you to push into his lips, mouth opening a little and him following your lead. One of his hands found your face, and you deepened the kiss. He was inexperienced but surprisingly patient, letting you lead and slowly picking your pace and moves. Your kiss turned into an almost make out session, lasting long minutes, with Fernando getting the hang of it with every passing second. When you parted, his cheeks and lips were red, and you two smiled nervously at each other.
“Was that ok?” You asked, suddenly insecure.
“More than ok,” he whispered back, “I think we-”
A loud noise from inside your house made you two jump away from each other, and a second later, your mom’s voice boomed through the door, reminding you of your curfew, and checking your watch, you noticed it was almost eleven.
“Sorry, Nano. I have to go,” you stood up and he followed you.
“See you Saturday to go karting?” He asked just to confirm the plans you had made earlier.
“See you,” you waved awkwardly before sprinting inside your house.
Skipping to your room, you locked the door behind you and pressed a hand to your lips, still warm from kissing your best friend. Going to your window, you pulled on the curtains and watched through the gap as Fernando left, calmly walking down the street.
You never talked about it. And when you met again at the end of the week, none of you mentioned the kiss, things quickly went back to normal as you two pretended it never happened. Over a few months, your heart never let you forget about the kiss you shared with your best friend, and whenever you laid in bed to sleep, your mind would wander back to that specific night. You spent months building up the courage to confess you had feelings for him, and you wanted to be more than friends. Your choice was to tell him on his birthday, when you usually would go for a birthday ice cream.
“I need to tell you something-” You said at the same time he muttered, “Can I tell you something?”
“Go ahead,” he said, gesturing to you, but at that point, your bravery quickly faded.
“No, you first. You’re the birthday boy!”
“Uh, I’m dating a girl. I’m going to introduce her to you and my family at the birthday party tonight.”
That moment, with a smile frozen on your face, a small part of you was ripped forever. The excitement and fear of a young love turned into stone at the pit of your stomach. To this day, you don’t know how you managed to not burst into tears that very moment. Instead, you kept smiling, asking Fernando for more details so he could get distracted and not notice the pain in your eyes.
Managing to bury what you decided to call a silly teen infatuation after a few months, your friendship with Fernando became even stronger everyday that passed.
You made it to the international and European competitions, winning the former twice in a row, and the latter once. You were in the Euro Open when Fernando made it to Formula 1.
He told you personally, when he signed with Minardi, and you were so happy you jumped on his arms, hugging him tight and screaming.
“I told you! I told you!” You shouted, as he carried your feet from the floor, “My best friend is in Formula 1! Oh my god, Nano!” You let go of him, your smile barely fitting your face, “I’m gonna be insufferable! I’m claiming bragging rights right now!”
He only laughed at your happy ramble.
You balanced your competitions with working double shifts for almost two months, so you could afford to go to the Spanish Grand Prix the year of his Formula One debut. He didn’t win anything that year, but he still had your immense support every step of the way. When waves of self doubt came and left him shaken, you’d hug him and whisper softly how he was just a rookie, how he would still have time to prove himself.
“You’re gonna be one of the best there is, Nano.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
He also would show you support whenever your schedule at the Euro Open didn’t coincide with his at Formula 1. It was one of the best feelings to get to the podium and see your best friend as you held the trophy. When you finally found him after the podium, he hugged you for a moment, commenting on his favorite moments from your race. As you stood, he gestured to someone, and a beautiful girl came closer.
“Nena, this is my girlfriend, Lucia,” he pointed. Your smile froze for a second. Another one, since the girl from last year couldn’t handle the distance of dating someone who was constantly traveling the world.
“It’s so nice to meet you!” You shook her hand, suddenly self conscious of your frizzy hair and sweat damp overalls. She was so pretty. So much prettier than you.
Lucia was pretty and kind, a little bit clingy, but she treated you very well, and wasn’t jealous of your friendship with Fernando, different from the last one. All your flings never went as far as becoming boyfriend or girlfriend, so you decided to focus more on racing and trying to make a name for yourself.
“Fernando,” you called one of the rare days you two were both free and could laze around, this time, sitting on the ground of the garden, staring at the clear sky and sharing a pint of ice cream.
“Hm?”
“I talked to your dad, and you’re going to be free the day of the last race of the Euro Open, so I was wondering if you will come to see me become the champion?” You turned to him, a smile adorning your face.
“Confident, are you?” He teased your certainty that you would win the competition.
“Not confident, just focused,” you corrected him, and started explaining the date of the race, but as you talked, his smile quickly faded and you stopped.
“I’m sorry, Nena. It’s Lucia’s graduation that day, I can’t miss it.”
You swallowed, thinking it would matter so much to you that he’d be there, but at the same time, you didn’t want to be selfish or make it seem like you’re competing with the girl he loved. You tried to disguise the disappointment in your face, but he noticed. At that point he knew you for half of your lives, he knew very well when you tried to mask your sadness. And unfortunately, he had been on the receiving end of that sad face one too many times.
“Oh,” you nodded, “Don’t worry, I totally understand.”
Fernando pressed his lips thin, your meek voice doing nothing to soothe the squeezing in his heart.
The day you won the Euro Open, you could barely contain your happiness as you stood on the podium, showing your trophy to your parents, who were watching you all emotional. As the podium ceremony finished, you walked back to your parents, your mom wiping her tears and your dad the happiest. Then, you finally noticed Fernando was with them.
“Nano!” You hugged him.
“Congratulations, champion!” He said. Your heart was so full you thought it would explode, so all you managed to say were two words.
“You came.”
“You called.”
Later you found out through your mom, who found out through Fernando’s mom, who found out from Fernando’s dad, that Fernando and Lucia had broken up. They said it was because of the distance and the relationship didn’t last more than seven months. You couldn’t blame her, you as his best friend barely saw him that year either.
You became a reserve driver for Renault in 2003, meeting Flavio Briatore yourself after you won the Formula 3000 two years in a row. You knew that, by that time, Fernando had ties with Flavio, but the man assured you it had nothing to do with Fernando, and everything to do with you being extremely talented.
Still, that same week you found Fernando, to inquire if he had anything to do with Flavio’s invitation, but he assured you that you’d achieved that with your own merit. The unexpected chance to race came when by the end of the following year, Fernando’s teammate was fired by the end of the season. So you had to replace him for the remaining three races of the season, the team fighting for P2 in the constructors championship. The first two races you went alright placing P7 and P5, but still not where you wanted to place.
“Hey, you’re doing great, Nena,” Fernando told you right before the race started. He knew you were upset, frustration practically emanating from your body.
“Not as great as I can do,” you shook your head.
“Just do your best, ignore everything else.”
You nodded, before closing your overalls and gettin ready to get in the car. That race, you and Fernando managed to race just like in your karting days, with a silent partnership never seen before coming from Fernando. You placed a 2-3 podium, him ahead of you.
When you got out of the car, you jumped straight into his arms, screaming and celebrating. Your first ever podium in Formula 1.
During post race interviews you accidentally let out to the media that you and Fernando were childhood best friends, which they took as a personal reason to go digging into your lives.
Next season, Flavio signed you with the team. But before anything, he sat you down for a talk. He explained how Fernando would be top priority this year, you were a rookie, and they would offer you all the support but you had to help Fernando first.
“You will gain experience, work together with your best friend, and we can achieve great things this year. And depending on how good of a performance you show this year, next year you will be able to race for the championship, yes?” Flavio explained.
And you were fine with that, Fernando would be the main priority while you took the year to get used to the car, to being in an entirely new category, while helping your best friend reach his peak. It was the dream, finally. It was the thing both of you had daydreamed together, nothing could get in the way of that.
So you did just that. You kept your head down, fighting fiercely against your rivals, and keeping yourself out of the way whenever you and Fernando were close in a race. Your time would come, as Flavio had promised. That season you managed good results in the points, and even got five podium finishes, which landed you fourth in the drivers’ championship and managed Renault to win the constructors.
That day in Interlagos, during the Brazilian Grand Prix, you woke up knowing Fernando would become world champion. You didn’t tell him to not put any more pressure on him. He only needed a podium to mathematically become the champion of the world.
He finished P3, and you finished P7. Seeing Fernando radiantly happy, dancing, shouting and jumping was etched forever in your brain as one of your happiest memories. The way he eventually found you, holding you firmly against him, the both of you crying happy tears became headlines all around the world.
“I told you, didn’t I?” You broke the hug so you could stare into his red rimmed eyes.
“You did. You’re right more often than not, I’ve come to realize.” He whispered. When someone tried to put a mic in your faces, Fernando pushed it away.
“This is your moment, go.” You gestured to the other side, where he had to go before the podium.
Looking up from the ground to Fernando, you were so happy you thought your heart would burst open. And you couldn’t wait for it to be your turn, to feel this happiness the other way around.
That night, you, Fernando and the entire team got ready to party, to celebrate his championship. You dressed up to the nines, putting makeup and spending a good half an hour styling your hair. When you left the elevator, meeting the whole team at the lobby, they shouted and whistled saying you were pretty. It made you a bit shy but you liked the attention.
You and Fernando danced and drank like crazy that night, going strong all the way into the morning. When the party ended and you two sat on your suite balcony, watching the sun rise, you bought out an ice cream pint you had kept in the room minibar.
“How do you feel, Mr. World Champion?” You sat cross legged in front of him.
“Like a dream come true, sometimes I don’t even believe it’s real,” he said, staring into the horizon.
“Remember when we would talk about this moment?” You took his hand in yours, as he nodded, “Wow. This is great. I’m so happy for you, and happy for fifteen year-old Nano, the bright eyed boy that fixed my kart charge free.”
It’s barely a second after you finished speaking that Fernando leaned into your space and just kissed your lips. It took you a second to understand what was going on, but when his hand found your hair, you reciprocated. His lips, that had been cold from the ice cream quickly became warm under your ministrations. You held his shoulders and let him pull you closer, until you were straddling his lap. The kiss was messy, all over the place, clanking lips, teeth and tongue. You moaned softly as he squeezed your ass, and you pulled his hair at the nape, grinding down on his lap, making him groan too.
“We should not,” he said, breaking the kiss. You nodded, panting.
“Yeah, totally, we-” you tried to speak but he nipped at your neck and you lost all train of thought.
“No, we won’t ruin-” he tried again but you pulled his hair, forcing his head up so you could kiss him.
“You’re right-” you muttered against his lips, right before smashing it when you kissed him again. You stayed there, kissing, making out like you were teenagers again, too scared to reach for each other's clothes and take the next step.
When the sun was fully up in the sky, and whatever was left of the ice cream had melted, your alarm rang, and you and Fernando parted. You were about to invite him to sleep with you for a few hours when he paused, his face worried. Fernando took one of your hands.
“This is a one time- thing, right?” He frowned, and you swallowed before nodding.
“Yes, of course.” You don’t correct him with memories of your eighteenth birthday.
“I just, I don’t want anything to ruin our friendship,” he stared at you, visibly scared for your friendship, and you didn’t have the heart to ask for more.
“It won’t ruin, I promise. If you want, we can forget it ever happened,” you said, hoping and praying he would change his mind. But he looked relieved at your words.
After he left, you sat down on the bed, disheartened, knowing that these scraps of affection would have to be stored in a safe spot inside your heart, and would be nothing more than memories, and what-ifs you’d only dare to look at late in your sleepless nights. You wondered how many times he would have to undervalue your romantic affections for you to understand he didn’t want you and never would. That was the second time you shared a moment, and the second time he had dismissed it. It’s not meant to be, you whispered to yourself.
When the new season started, you had gotten a grip over your feelings for him, focused on moving on. Being in love with your best friend for around a decade was pathetic enough.
Fernando was great during the start of the season, scoring two wins within the first three races. And despite not being the results you wanted, you placed top ten in all of them, even managing one podium finish.
When the fourth race came, though, it was when you and Fernando started to collapse. It was a very carefully plotted race for you and your team, and after managing your tyres with care, you didn’t have to pit twice. And you won, for the first time ever, you stood on the top of the podium. Unfortunately, Fernando didn’t get a podium. Holding your trophy, you looked down from the podium looking to your team, and searching for Fernando.
He wasn’t there, and your heart shattered a bit with his absence.
Maybe he had a problem and couldn’t be there for you. Maybe he was busy.
You went down to speak to the press, happily talking about strategies, how you and your team masterminded it, how you managed to preserve your tyres for longer than expected.
“How do you and Fernando manage to balance your friendship out of the track with the rivalry happening inside the track?” Someone asked. You were caught by surprise, taking a few seconds to actually compute the words he said.
“Well, I haven’t seen Fernando yet, but I believe he’d be happy for my good result as much as I’d be happy for him,” you told him, but immediately regretted it as the reporter had a gotcha expression on his face.
“Well, actually, this is what Fernando said a few minutes ago when he gave an interview-”
The man gave you a tape recorder attached to a pair of headphones, and your stomach filled with dread as he pressed rewind and play.
“Fernando, today’s win puts your best friend as a contender for the championship, what do you say?”
“Well, I believe she is talented, but too young and not yet ready to face me and actually compete for the championship.”
His voice was bitter, like he didn’t see you as nothing but a bug under his shoes. Instead of making you sad, it only left you seething in anger, but as you removed the headphones, you controlled the urge to smash the headphones on the nearest wall and smirked coldly to the camera that was waiting for your reaction.
“What do you think about Fernando saying you’re still not ready to become world champion?” The reporter urged, waiting for a beef that he would successfully get.
“Well, I guess he feels threatened by me, so I’ll take that as a compliment,” you shrugged, not caring about adding more fuel to the fire. If Fernando thought he could go running his mouth and you’d be fine or not jab him back, he was in for a surprise.
After wrapping up the interviews, you finally managed to go to your room and take a shower. You were getting ready to leave when Fernando found you again, walking into your room without bothering to knock. You didn’t even look at him, just kept packing your bag.
“Nena…”
“Don’t fucking talk to me,” you shook your head, holding on to the anger instead of allowing yourself to be sad. How he was able to ruin your first ever win in Formula 1, you couldn’t know.
“Nena, please, just-” He tried again, blocking your path to the door.
“No! Fuck you, Fernando!” You took a step back, letting your bag fall to the floor, an accusatory finger pointing to his face, “How dare you do this to me? You know how many times I cheered for you? How many times I wasn’t even on the podium and still, I was happy for you? Huh? I was there for you every step of the way, and you can’t be there for me once? Now you go out there and disregard my win in front of the whole world? What did I ever do to you for you to say that shit about me?” Your voice trembled, but you refused to cry in front of him, “I’d never do that to you, you selfish asshole.”
“I shouldn’t have said that, but I was pole and didn’t even manage to turn it into a podium? I was upset, the strategy fucked me up! I know I should not have said that! You’re right! I was selfish and an asshole-”
“Damn right you were!” You shouted, then picked up your bag, “I don’t want to see you right now.”
You walked past him, leaving at once.
That night, you went to celebrate with the team and without your teammate, you got pretty wasted, dancing and drinking like you had never done before. You refused to let yourself feel down because of Fernando’s big mouth. Dancing the night away, you didn’t stop even when people on the team asked you to, since you were getting out of hand. You were grinding on a stranger, dancing to reggaeton when you felt a hand on your arm.
“Let’s go,” the voice said and you turned, seeing Fernando in front of you. He looked like he was dressed in pajamas and hair all disheveled.
He was asleep when someone on the team called him because they wanted to leave and you were being difficult, so they hoped that your best friend could come pick you up and convince you to leave.
“Excuse me?!” You pulled your arm from him.
“We’re leaving!” Fernando said, pointing to where your team was, seeing it empty, “you’re not going to stay here alone.”
Begrudgingly, you let him lead you outside, one hand in your arm, and the other one on your back. You stumbled in your heels, and Fernando pressed you against the wall, kneeling to remove your shoes and help you walk better outside. Silently, he drove you back to the hotel, while you were with your arms crossed and sulking.
He walked you to your room, helping you change into pajamas, then tucked you into the bed. He stood there for a second, pushing your hair away from your face as you closed your eyes, letting his knuckles run over your cheek softly.
“I wish-” you mumbled, sleepy, “I wish you were happy for me.”
His eyes filled with tears, seeing just how awful he had been to you. A dream was coming true and all he could think of was himself.
“I am, Nena. I’m so happy for you,” He said, but you didn’t answer, already asleep, due to being tired from the race and heavily drunk.
You woke up with a pounding headache and a stomach churning hangover. Still, you showered, drank tea and got ready to go home. When Fernando knocked on the door of your hotel room later that day to apologize, you were already on a flight to Spain. Your birthday would be later that week and your family wanted to throw you a dinner party.
Your birthday was nice, despite obviously feeling Fernando’s absence.
You were sitting alone on the porch, after the party, when he showed up, late in the night. You didn’t say anything as he walked up to you.
“Peace offering?” Fernando showed you a small ice cream pint “I’m so sorry. I never meant to undermine you. I was a jerk, and you didn’t deserve any of it. I’m so, so sorry.”
You hesitated for a second, but his eyes were so gentle, remorseful, that you couldn’t help but give in. You jumped into his arms so suddenly he almost dropped the ice cream, but he managed to balance it and hug you back with the other arm.
“Happy birthday, Nena,” he whispered,
“Thank you,” you said, without letting him go, “I’m sorry too. I apologize for implying you felt threatened by me.”
“You should have called me worse things,” he whispered.
You ended up sharing the ice cream once again, talking about life.
Deep down, you hoped things would go back to normal, but a part of you knew that things would never be the same. You two were too much alike for anything to work. Too proud. Too stubborn. Too competitive. When you were good, it was great, but when you were mad, your words were daggers.
The both of you tried to stay normal the next couple of races, but it was strained, forced, especially when you were racing each other. You supposed Fernando was used to you backing down for him, since it was all you had done the year before when you were a rookie. But now you were used to the car, to explore all the possibilities while pushing your tyres to their maximum, while trying insane strategies and making it work. You were a risky driver, just like him, often seen as reckless.
All the while, the media started catching up to it. They went digging to find pictures of you and Fernando when you were kids, in karting and junior competitions, finding out people to interview, old classmates, people you two had met over the years, telling everyone about your close friendship, about you growing up together. Despite you both refusing to comment on your past, the journalists would always find a way to learn more and more about you.
Eventually, it got to your nerves, harsh words were often said whenever questions were thrown at you. You were in a press conference, where Fernando was also there along with a few other drivers.
“It is noticeable that you and Alonso’s driving style is very similar, would you say that he taught you everything you know?”
You didn’t like his tone, you hated whatever he was implying, not because of Fernando, but because it meant to reduce your efforts and abilities.
“No, Alonso has no part in my racing,” your tone was firm against the mic, and you could feel Fernando’s eyes on you, two chairs away on your left.
“But you grew up together?” The man insisted, and you loudly sighed, exhausted from everyone trying to make you talk about it all the time.
“And that doesn’t mean anything!” You said with gritted teeth.
There was a moment of silence right after your outburst, and you didn’t dare to look anywhere besides ahead. When the questions moved on to other drivers, you breathed again. Finally sparing a glance to Fernando, he only looked at you for a fleeting moment, but you knew him so well, you could recognize his teary eyes. Only then it dawned on you how badly you fucked up by insinuating he didn’t mean anything to you.
When the conference ended, you watched as Fernando left really quickly, not even looking in your direction. You ran, trying to find him, going to his room that was right beside yours.
“Fernando-” You walked inside, not even bothering to knock.
“So, our friendship means nothing!” He shook his head, looking disappointed.
“I didn’t mean it like that, Nano!”
“Now I’m Nano again?” He scoffed.
You wanted to cry and plead, to explain that you never meant it this way. You were just tired of people trying to attribute your success to others. You were tired of people comparing the two of you, and saying everything you were came from him, just because he joined the category five years before you.
“Fernando, please-”
“Leave.” His eyes were cold, almost detached when he pointed to the door.
“Please, Nano…” You whispered, feeling your own eyes welling up with tears. He just shook his head ‘no’ again.
You walked out quietly, not allowing your tears to fall down as you got into your room, inhaling and puffing your chest. You didn’t let up, trying to talk to him again, because it was just a misunderstanding.
Three days later, you tried to find him again, after the race ended, hoping he would have calmed down after a good result, a P2 in that race. You knocked on his door and entered. He was changing clothes as you walked in, he finished dressing a shirt.
“What?” He said, barely looking at you, as he sat down on the sofa, brushing his hair.
“I wanted to talk about what I said during-” your words were interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Come in!” Fernando said, and soon, two pretty girls walked in, wearing pretty dresses, one blonde and the other brunette, “pretty girls!”
You recognized they were grid girls, and they looked familiar from this weekend.
“Can we talk?” You said, trying to make him at least send the girls away for a moment.
“I’m listening,” he smirked, and you gulped as the blonde ran a hand up and down his chest. The brunette leaned into his ear with a seductive smile, whispering something.
“Fernando, please…” You asked again and he didn’t even look at you, laughing at something the girls whispered to him, “I’m sorry,” you whispered, before turning in your heels and leaving his room.
Shame and jealousy burned inside you.
He started giving you a silent treatment from then on and three races later, your silent strain came to a head, once again.
You were right behind him at the race, you P3 and him right ahead, but you had enough speed to outpace him soon, maybe a couple more laps and you’d equal him enough to try and overtake, you rode turn 2 smoothly, but as you two kept going, Fernando half a second in front of you, he suddenly hit the brakes, making you hit his rear.
“What the fuck? He brake tested me!” You shouted into the radio, reassessing, you gulped, noticing the damage to your front right tyre, “I’ve got damage!”
You called into the box to change your tyre, which fucked up your entire strategy, and made you go from the P3 to P9 in the grid. You managed to recover a little bit, but still ended P5 and out of the podium.
The rage was burning your chest as you went to the garage absolutely fuming. After all the podium proceedings and celebrations, you waited for Fernando, but he just walked past you without a care in the world. That made you even more pissed, and nobody managed to hold you when you tossed your helmet aside and marched up to him.
“That was really fucked up, Fernando!” You cut his path, making him stop short. Suddenly a bunch of people started gathering around you two, everyone ready for a show.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He shrugged, but you knew him like the palm of your own hand, and you knew that condescending smile he showed you.
“You are a fucking coward if you have to brake test me just to get a podium,” you said, venomous, feeling your dad trying to pull you away and dissipate the commotion. But you weren’t done, “you’re pathetic, Fernando.”
“That’s enough!” Your dad said, pulling you back.
“Or maybe you’re just not good enough, have you thought about that?” Fernando said back, and you jumped on him, trying to get close enough for violence, but your dad held your waist, removing your feet from the ground and pulling you back.
“Man up, Fernando! You fucking asshole!” You shouted as your dad dragged you back into the garage.
Your dad placed you inside your room, grabbing water so you could drink and calm down. When he turned back, a sob broke from your throat, and you covered your mouth with a hand, trying to muffle the sounds of your crying. You shook as you cried again, your dad hugging you close and murmuring to you to let it all out.
You never thought your friendship with Fernando would ever come to this. You weren’t even sure of how the buildup happened that led to this.
“I don’t recognize him anymore, Papá. I don’t recognize my best friend anymore,” you shook your head, your voice breaking in hiccups. You pressed the plant of your hand to your eyes to try and stop the tears falling down, but it was useless.
“It’s ok, bebé. You’re both hotheaded, you need to talk calmly, try and fix it.”
You didn’t try to talk to him. He was wrong when he brake tested you, and if he couldn’t apologize for that, and for the hurtful words he said, then it was better to stay that way.
It only got worse as the season went on, the team tried to force you to give him advantages, but you refused many times, making the competition for the World Drivers Championship be between the two of you.
“We need to talk,” Flavio called you a day after another one of your wins, one that Fernando placed third, one that he didn’t even look at your face when you were up there.
“What happened?” You sat down in front of him by the table.
“You have to follow team orders. When we say you have to switch places with Fernando, you switch. You are deliberately going against orders, what is going on? You and Fernando are now in a cold war, the media caught up, the other drivers caught up too, why-”
“Am I the only one getting lectured?” You crossed your arms, seeing Flavio getting red in the face, angry.
“No. I want answers from both of you, and the way you’re being aggressive with each other, we believe it’s better to talk to you separately,” Flavio sighed, “What is happening? Before it was interesting, a beautiful rivalry, but now you way past that. You’re harming your own races and the team.”
“You talk to Fernando. He thinks because I won’t back down he needs to use every dirty trick in the book to damage my race. If he can’t handle competition like an adult, then he shouldn’t be here.”
Suddenly, the door opened, which made you jump. Fernando walked inside, fuming.
“So that’s what you think of me?” He raised his voice.
“Yes, you have been acting like a fucking kid,” you stood up.
“Me? You told the whole world our friendship means nothing to you! Have you any idea how that made me feel?!” Fernando got closer.
“Do you know how many times people disdain my career to pin it to someone else? To attribute my successes to you, or to Flavio, or even my dad?! You’ve got no idea what it's like being a woman here!”
“Power got to your head! You think you have to walk all over everyone to get what you want!”
“Power?! Literally every man here does that! You do that too, Fernando!”
“Funny you say that since you wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me!” He shouted, pointing a finger to the ground.
“Fernando, stop.” Flavio muttered, coming closer to where you were face to face with Fernando.
You frowned, your anger completely dissipated and what was left was dread. And a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach.
“What?” You hated how your voice was nothing more than a vulnerable whisper.
“Fernando, enough!” Flavio commanded out loud, gesturing with a hand.
“What do you mean, Fernando?!” You asked again, ignoring Flavio trying to pacify the fight.
“I was the one to ask Flavio to sponsor you. I asked him to take a shot and invest in your career!” Fernando’s words were poison and in his eyes you couldn’t see anything left of your former best friend.
“Is it true, Flavio?” You asked but your eyes never left Fernando’s.
“Yes, but if we calm down, we can talk like adults.”
You couldn’t even come up with words, speechless not only from what Fernando told you, but from the tone he used. It was like he had punched you straight in the gut. You couldn’t contain your tears anymore, the lump in your throat threatening to suffocate you. You wanted to jump on him, to push him to the ground and punch his face. You wanted to scream in his face and call him all the dirty names you could think of. You tried to hold onto the anger but your limbs were still, and the pain expanded inside you like wildfire. He had lied to you, in the biggest step of your career he had lied to you. Even when you pressed for answers, he lied straight to your face.
You stared into his eyes one last time. It was the first time he had seen you really cry. He had seen you teary eyed or even emotional before, but it was the first time he had seen you truly cry.
“You’re dead to me, Fernando.”
Was all you managed to rasp, fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Flavio called your name as you walked away, but you never looked back and didn’t stop until you were inside your car, wailing like a baby. You sobbed all the way back to the hotel. You cried as you packed your bags, and tried but failed to contain your tears all the way back home, until you were at your parents’ door, sobbing on their sofa.
They didn’t ask anything until a couple of hours later when you managed to stop crying.
“I hate Fernando, so much, Mamá,” you whispered.
“Honey, don’t say that. Don’t do or say something you might regret later on,” She told you. You shook your head.
“I’m done with him. Done.” You bit back a sob, “he was so cruel, you had to see it.”
“He’s your best friend, dear. I’m sure it will be alright later on.”
“You should’ve seen the hate in his eyes, I don’t know him anymore. That’s not my Nano.”
So, your racing career was a lie. You didn’t make it because of your talent or your efforts. You were in Formula 1 because of Fernando. That was the cruelest thing someone ever said to you, not only because he was mean in the way he said it, but because with a few words he diminished your entire career. And what could you come up with to contest? He was right. You would never be there without him.
You wanted to give up so badly at that moment. You wanted to stay home and never come back, but you knew you couldn’t, your sense of duty was loud and you had to make it work. You had to prove that you deserved your spot in Formula 1, that all of Flavio’s forced investment on you was worth it.
You had to prove to Fernando you were more than a friend he pitied, more than a charity case he took so he could throw it at your face later.
It was one of the hardest things to realize and accept, the fact that he wasn’t your friend anymore. Maybe he never was. Despite all the disagreements the past couple of years, and all the beautiful history you had before the pinnacle of motorsport, maybe he never saw you as a friend. You thought you’d never treat a friend the way he treated you.
So you had to prove Fernando wrong.
NOTE: If you want to be tagged on part 2, please let me know in the comments!
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