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the-offside-rule · 3 months

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Fernando Alonso (McLaren era) - Envious pt.2

A part 2 to Envious

Fernando walked into the paddock on the Thursday for his usual media stuff. His PR manager had brought him around, filling him I on what questions most interviewers would be asking him. Whilst they walked into the interviewing area, glancing around for Y/n. He was quite desperate to see her. He found himself having to watch her past interviews just to make the feeling of missing her go away. How could be miss her? He wasn't even with her? They weren't exactly on speaking terms. "Can we start with ITV?" He asked, eager to see Y/n. "Just get it over with? Of course." They made their way over to ITV. Fernando looked up, expecting to see Y/n but instead seeing a different girl. He crossed his arms, a confused look on his face. "Where is Y/n?" He asked. "You'll be happy to learn, she has a segment to do with Lewis for ITV." His PR manager told him, preparing her voice recorder. "No." He mumbled. "Pardon?"

"I won't do the interview for ITV unless it is Y/n asking the questions. Where is she?" The ITV production team exchanged uneasy glances. "I don't think she can change her segment, Fernando." One of them said. "I'll worry about that. I would like Y/n to interview me. We'll be back when Y/n is." He said walking away and leaving a few confused souls. Fernando went about doing his interviews but he kept glancing over at the ITV crowd, hoping he would see Y/n but each time he looked over, disappointment struck. Y/n was on the other side of the paddock, getting ready to start her segment when she got a call from her boss. "Im about to turn my phone off. I have to go do this segment." Y/n said as she answered the phone. "The segment can wait. You're needed in the interview pen." She couldnt believe the words being said to her. "I don't understand. Did Darcy just get up and leave?" She asked. "No, but Alonso is being specific about who is interviewing him and he'd like you to interview him." She chuckled. "Well, if only we were accommodating."

"We are. He's refusing to do interviews with us until you are back." She rolled her eyes. "He is so childish. He's just bored. Darcy will do." Y/n protested. "No, we need the Fernando interview." She threw her arms in the air. "It's an interview that will last two minutes! I worked so hard to get this Lewis interview!" She was near shouting at this stage. "Sleeping with the driver in question does not mean you worked hard for it." She felt her heart drop with those words. "I didn't and I won't ever sleep my way to where I want to go." She hung up and groaned.

ITV had been panicking, but eventually located Y/n, who seemed stressed and preoccupied and angry, which when interviewing Fernando became normal. Fernando turned to see her talking sternly to the girl that was interviewing. He hoped he didn't get her in trouble but at the end of the day, he finally got Y/n. He walked towards her, his PR manager following behind closely.

"Y/n." He said approaching Y/n. She didn't look up. "Fernando." She replied, engrossed in the papers she held. "What's wrong with my intern?" Y/n asked as Fernando walked towards her. "Too boring. I want a little fun in these things." He smiled. "And you are a child." She said, taking out her notebook and pen. As Y/n prepped for the interview, flicking through her countless pages, Fernando decided to begin his redemption (if you could call it that) and share a warm smile with her. "How are you today?" he asked, catching her off guard. She looked up confused. Stumbling over her words, she replied, "I'm... I'm good, thank you. How about you, Fernando?" He chuckled. "I'm doing well. I was worried you weren't going to interview me today." He said. "Believe me, I wanted the segment with Lewis but you pushed for me to interview you." He clenched his jaw. "That must has set me back a bit but I'm intrigued, why do you want me to interview you?" She asked. "You bring a smile to my face. How about that?" Y/n kept her skepticism. "Okay. Ready to roll?" She asked her camera man.

Confused but intrigued, Y/n began the interview. "Hello, Fernando. Its a new race week here in Malaysia. Are you hoping hoping to better than your P2 last race weekend?" She asked, trying to add a harshness in the fact he had P3. "Well, of course. The Race was difficult last week with Kimi doing so well in the Ferrari and obviously, as a driver you always have to strive to be the best at what you do. I feel like it would be the same for journalists which is why why are as highly regarded as you are." He smiled. Y/n pulled a face. Did he just....compliment her? What was he up to?

"Do you think that long-term, you could beat Ferrari in the constructors or even beat them to the driver championship?" Fernando took a deep breath in. "Well, it's always tricky to pin-point these things but I think I could get there with the help of McLaren and obviously my teammate." He replied. "Something tells me your teammate won't be as willing to help you as you think." She remarked. "Something or someone?" He joked, making the few people surrounding them laugh. She felt her face heat up at what he was implying. "Sorry, that was unprofessional, but to finish that question off, I think-" to her surprise, Fernando's apology was laced with genuine kindness and humility. The tension that usually filled the air between them dissipated, replaced by an unexpected camaraderie. She didn't entirely believe him, she still thought he was up to something but until she could put her finger on it, she had to bite her tongue.

"But yeah, if he wants to help me he can. It's not my job." He answered. "Thank you Fernando." She said, concluding the interview. "You seem pretty tense today." Fernando said. "Why are you still here?" She asked, handing her notebook to Darcy. "Can you please write this up for the article. Thanks." She brought her attention back to Fernando. "What? J thought you'd be happy to see me." She scoffed. "Yeah, right." Fernando thought for a moment. He didn't wanna leave her just yet, he wanted to talk to her more. He had gone ages without seeing her.

"How about a joke?" He offered. "What?" Was he serious? "What does a bee do in the gym?" She shrugged her shoulders. "Zum-ba." The camera crew looked at eachother confused. "It makes sense in Spanish. Because its like 'qué hace una abeja en el gimnasio?' Zum-ba! But in English it makes no sense." She found herself giggling along, knowing the joke since she spoke spanish. "I know, I know." She found herself laughing harder and harder at how bad the joke was and how Fernando explaining it somehow made it much funnier. "You're crying!" Fernando laughed, pointing at Y/n as she wiped her tears away.

"I never thought I'd see the day when you and I would share a laugh." She admitted. "Again." He said. Y/n looked at him bewildered. "What?" She asked. "Well we have shared laughs before so you never thought you'd see the day we would share a laugh again." She smiled, reminiscent of her first ever motorsport interview, back when Fernando was in Minardi. "I'm surprised you remember that far back." She smiled. Fernando grinned. "Life is full of surprises, isn't it?" Y/n nodded. "Do you mind if I ask you something?" Fernando smiled and agreed. "What's with the sudden change? We've had our fair share of clashes in the past and now you're refusing to answer to anyone other than me."

Fernando tried to think of an answer that didn't completely include the truth but still add a hint or two. "Sometimes, it's good to leave the past behind and start anew. Besides, life is too short for unnecessary feuds." He said, stretching his hand out. "Hopefully, we can just be friends now." He said. Y/n reluctantly took his hand and shook it before he bid farewell to everyone and left, leaving confused souls behind.

That evening, Y/n had to rewrite Darcy's work which led to a late night, and a lot of coffee. As she was writing, she heard her phone ringing, eith the caller ID of 'The Boss' on it. She answered, holding in yawn. "Hello?" She questioned, still writing away. "I didn't expect you to be awake at this time." He said. "Well, you know me. I'm always up late for work." She said, a hint of bitterness still in her voice from their earlier conversation. "Yes, well I'm calling became McLaren gave me a ring. Your segment with Lewis can be done tomorrow after qualifying." She smiled. "Aw, he's a gem for reorganising it." She chuckled. "It wasnt Lewis." She knotted her eyebrows in confusion. "Was it his PR people?"

"No actually. It was Fenrnado." She stopped writing. "Fernando?" Fernando had rescheduled it. "He said he felt bad about pulling you away from the segment with Lewis. The marketing team over there are not happy about Fernando giving them an earful this evening so I'd say go over and just thank them." Her boss said. "An earful?"

"Yes, he said bugging them all evening to fit you in for your segment. You're all about the questions today." She nodded along. "Yeah, yeah. I- mmh. Perks of being an interviewer. Look, I'll call you back tomorrow. In just finishing this up for the weekend preview. I'll send it on over when it's done." She said hanging up the phone and looking out her window into nothing. What alternate dimension was she in that Fernando was so nice? Did he hit his head or something? What was with him. It was weird, it was strange.

The day after, Fernando was walking into the paddock. His trainer had gone in before him but since Fernando forgot his pass he had to run back to the car and grab it quickly. "Fernando!" He turned, expecting to see a fan but instead spotted Y/n, jogging towards him. "Ah, good morning, Y/n." He smiled. "How are you, my friend?" He asked as she caught up. "I"m good, you?" She asked. "I'm doing good. Thank you." He replied. "Um, I just wanted tk say thank you for rescheduling that interview." She said. "Oh, that was nothing. It was simply a thank you for interviewing me and changing your plans up." He turned to face her. "It's what friends do." He scanned his pass and let her go in first, before scanning his own pass. "So, are you looking forward to your interview with Lewis?" He asked as they walked in the paddock. "I'm not with Lewis." She said. He looked at her, a grin on his face. "I didn't say you were. I said-"

"I know, but everyone thinks im with Lewis. My boss even thinks I slept with him but-" She paused. "I don't know why I told you. I'll go." She said quickly. "Wait, wait. We'll since you are not eith Lewis and I am most definitely not with anyone-" Y/n looked as her face turned red from embarrassment. "How about we head out after the race. Just as friends, nothing more." A smile tugged at her lips, before she agreed. "Very good, I'll be seeing you around." Fernando smiled, and disappeared into the McLaren hospitality while Y/n walked around as muddled as the day before.

#f1 blurb #f1 imagine #f1 oneshot #f1 oneshots #fernando alonso oneshot #fernando alonso imagines #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso #fernando alonso x y/n #fernando alonso x oc #fernando alonso blurb #fernando alonso fluff #fernando alonso fanfic

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heliads · 3 months

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Hi!

I love your writing so much!

I would love to request an angsty Strollonso fic where Lance gets into a crash and the team doesn’t tell Nando how bad it was and he finds out later from another driver and freaks out and goes to the hospital to see him. Maybe Lance has to calm him down and keep him from going after his dad or something.

This is my first time requesting so I hope it’s okay lol.

If you don’t get to it, no worries! Thanks!

'didn't get the call' - fernando x lance

masterlist

It’s race week. Things always get real during race week.

One would think that a couple decades of seasons of Formula One racing would prepare Fernando Alonso for the frenzy of a long weekend spent overseas, but he’s had ample time to determine the contrary. Sure, he’s gotten better at shaking off the nerves a little, sloughing off like an old scar the urge to run or lash out, but part of it still remains inside his lungs, rattling the tissue more than he feels is necessary. It’s race week. What’s the worst that could happen?

That same sentiment, however, doesn’t seem to apply to the rest of the paddock. Everywhere Fernando goes, he seems the same sort of tension bubbling to fury underneath everyone’s skin. The few gazes that dare to lift to his are strained, the undereye bags larger than usual. Even his race engineer seems skittish, and after a year of dealing with Fernando watching live race broadcasts while making overtakes and other various misdemeanors, Fernando has assumed that nothing could shake the guy.

Fernando tries to think about what could have possibly gone wrong to demand this level of response, but nothing comes to mind. In the end, it was, truly, just another weekend. Fernando had done reasonably well– a fourth place result, while frustratingly shy of a podium, is still a good result. Aston Martin as a whole has been down as of late, and even though they would rather appreciate the points boost of a podium, fourth position is still better than the points of sixth, or eighth, or not even getting points at all.

All in all, it had been a relatively decent race from Fernando’s point of view. He’d had some good overtakes, and provided some good defense against the challenging Red Bulls until they passed him like they do against every other car on track. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t mediocre, either. That’s Aston for you. That’s life.

In fact, Fernando had even felt so satisfied after the race that he’d gone ahead and asked how Lance had fared while he was turning his car towards parc ferme. It’s been a little indulgence that Fernando has allowed himself out of late, caring about his teammate. Call him overly cavalier, but this is, actually, quite a sign of change in Fernando, especially after the past two years at Alpine. Fernando hasn’t always been in the business of viewing his teammates as more than obstacles.

Perhaps that’s just a sign that he’s getting old, Fernando thinks fondly as he meanders towards his driver’s room. The apparently advanced age of entering his forties is making him sentimental. How charming. Then again, it’s something altogether different when one’s teammate is, well, Lance.

Lance.

Fernando had been careful when he first arrived at Aston Martin. Lance was the boss’ son, for one thing, and Esteban’s close friend, for another. Of course he would have to be careful. It’s not as if Aston Martin would be dramatic enough to fire Fernando if he let slip a critical comment of his teammate in yet another drawn-out press conference, but they’d probably retaliate with something below the belt, like a pay cut.

So he’d watched his tongue, and watched his temper. The only thing Fernando hadn’t kept in check was his heart. Maybe that was because he assumed he wouldn’t have to, that years of experience would have made him as cold as his teammate’s home country, but as it turns out, even a two time world champion can be wrong on occasion, and Fernando was wrong about Lance.

Fernando isn’t quite sure that he could put into words what Lance means to him. He’s not sure that he wants to try. Some things are best kept secret, hidden under the protective cover of supposedly forced team bonding and aggressively proud post-race interviews. Overcommitting to an overtake before you know you’ve got it can ruin a race. Spelling out in precise, heart-stopping red syllables what Lance Stroll means to Fernando could ruin his whole enterprise.

Even still, small things slip through the self-imposed barrier. Fernando squeezes Lance’s shoulders when they run into each other in the media pen and pretends he doesn’t notice how Lance’s entire body wracks the second Fernando touches him. He certainly doesn’t store that information away for later use. And, his latest vice, Fernando keeps asking his race engineer how Lance has done in the race, making it public that Fernando is interested. People know now. How daring.

This time, though, his race engineer had been surprisingly tight-lipped, mentioning only that he would have to get back to Fernando on that front. Usually, the background chatter from the pit wall is quiet so as to not distract the driver, but this time an uproar of static had cut through the engineer’s words, making it more difficult to make him out. There had been rumors of a red flag coming out on the last lap, but as it happened most cars would be able to clear without trouble, so nothing had been mentioned. His race engineer had also been silent on that front.

Who is Fernando to worry, though? If something bad had happened, he would have been informed. Fernando makes it a habit to stay aware. It wasn’t him, it couldn’t be his teammate, and thus Fernando’s capacity for caring is significantly limited. He’ll put out a somber Instagram story later if his PR agent reminds him. All will be well.

The further he travels through the Aston Martin motorhome, though, the more uneasy Fernando feels. Everyone is rushing around, all speaking to each other in terse whispers that he can’t quite pick up. Fernando feels as if he’s the eye of a hurricane, surrounded by restless whirlwinds of deep green water.

This doesn’t make sense. Eventually, Fernando’s impatience gets the better of him and he stops one of the trainers, who’s been parked in a corner of the room and frantically texting so he doesn’t get in the way. The man practically jumps out of his skin when Fernando nudges his arm, he’s so keyed up. Strange. Also unsettling.

“What’s going on?” Fernando asks. The confusion makes his voice terse, it sounds like he’s a soldier out on a battlefield. He doesn’t even feel that worried, not yet, but from the way everyone else is acting, he feels as if he should be.

The trainer avoids his eyes. “Nothing,” he says evasively.

“Oh, and that’s why you look as if someone just shot you in the leg?” Fernando deadpans.

The trainer grimaces. “Alright, but I’m not supposed to tell you. Lance, uh, got in a crash. Last lap of the race. The engineers wanted you to focus on reviewing your data so you aren’t supposed to know about it.”

This is the part where Fernando should assure the trainer that they’re both on the same page and of course he won’t say a word about it, but a complete blankness has settled over his brain, erasing the ability to think anything at all other than the same question over and over again: Lance crashed?

“What happened?” Fernando asks. He hardly recognizes the sound of his own voice. “Was it bad?”

“Not bad,” the trainer says, but he’s still not looking directly at Fernando. “We’re still checking him out, obviously, but he should be good to go for the next race.”

He coughs pointedly, and this is when Fernando knows it’s time to move on. He’s been assured that his teammate will be fit to race next weekend, and as a hardened driver, that’s all he should care about. Still, as he walks back down the hall again, Fernando can’t convince himself to let it go. Would everyone really be this worried if it was just a small collision? They would tell him, surely, if it was worse. They would have to tell him.

Maybe they just don’t know yet, Fernando reasons with himself. Maybe they legitimately have no clue until Lance returns from medical testing. Even the most insignificant fender-benders can have lingering damage if your hands aren’t in the right place or something else goes wrong. Everyone could just be stressing until they hear back for sure that everything is fine.

Fernando returns to his driver’s room and shuts the door. He sits down absentmindedly in a chair. After about five minutes, it registers that he forgot to turn the light on. He’s not in total darkness, a window is half open, but Fernando can’t quite convince himself to try and flip the switch. Lance was in a crash. Lance is hurt, maybe.

It unravels Fernando down to the last stitch. Lance had been in the bike accident in January, Fernando is not unused to being in a situation in which Lance is hurt, but for some reason this feels far, far worse. He doesn’t like knowing that Lance isn’t alright. It unnerves him, like a car running with a mismatched tire. All of Fernando’s systems are off-kilter.

His phone pings by his side, and now Fernando’s the one who feels like he’s leaping several centimeters out of his chair. Running an absentminded hand through his hair to calm himself down, Fernando reaches for his phone to check the notification, but the message he reads does little to steady his spirit.

Mick Schumacher.

Why aren’t you at the hospital?

Fernando responds immediately.

What are you talking about?

Mick’s answer is swift and to the point.

Lance.

Instantly, Fernando’s blood chills.

They told me he was fine. Why is he in the hospital?

This time, Mick takes a while. Unable to take the pressure, Fernando gets up and starts pacing back and forth in the confines of his driver’s room. At last, Mick responds.

Bad crash. He’s been unconscious but just woke up.

Fernando is out the door before he even finishes reading the text. He’s still in his disgusting race suit, but the sweat will just have to keep cooling, because there’s no way Fernando is sparing so much as a second for anything but getting to Lance. He manages to ask Mick what hospital Lance is occupying while fishing around for his keys, and then he’s off, breaking what he’s sure are several speed limits and a myriad of traffic violations while he’s at it.

Fernando bursts through the door, feeling eerily like a guy out of a rom-com his older sister, Lorena, used to watch. He’s buff enough for the role, certainly, but nothing about this is movie material. Real life is ugly. People get into crashes and don’t miraculously walk out. Beautiful boys with dark eyes lie unresponsive in hospital beds and no one talks about it until it’s too late.

Mick is already in the waiting room and stands up when Fernando arrives. He takes in Fernando’s bedraggled appearance with a raised eyebrow. “Well, I did ask you to get here fast, but I appreciate your dedication to it.”

“Of course,” Fernando says distractedly. “How is Lance?”

Mick nods, again, the raised eyebrow. “He’s been asking for you. There are a couple of Aston Martin guys here, but they just kept ducking the question whenever he brought up where you were.”

Fernando makes a low, ugly sound in the back of his throat. “They did the same thing to me.”

Some of the tension leaves Mick’s face. “They really didn’t tell you, did they?”

“Not at all,” Fernando makes out. “Where is he?”

Mick tells him the number and points him in the right direction. “Be careful,” is all he says before Fernando is too far gone to hear him.

Fernando hurries down the hall. Some of the nurses make an attempt to stop him, but he just ducks around their questioning gazes until he’s knocking on Lance’s door. He can see a vague silhouette through the half-closed blinds, but it’s not until a faint, groggy voice tells him to come inside that Fernando can decide for sure that yes, this is Lance, and yes, Fernando should have been informed of this immediately.

Fernando shuts the door quietly behind him. He walks quietly to the chair, and he sits quietly, breathing quietly, looking quietly, until Lance rolls his eyes and says, “I’m not going to die if you act normally, you know.”

Fernando relaxes a little bit. “Who said anything about dying?”

“Not me,” Lance says, that smug smile starting to surface even despite the IV in his arm, the bandages across his chest, the–

“Stop looking at those,” Lance says unexpectedly, cutting off Fernando’s train of thought. “I’m fine. Honestly.”

Fernando looks at him askance. “You sound like half your car is lodged inside your ribcage. Is that fine?”

Lance pulls a face. “Okay, I’m a little less than fine. It’s alright, though.”

“Tell me what happened,” Fernando says. He didn’t think it came out as an order, but instantly Lance straightens up even despite the constraints of the hospital bed and starts speaking, a faint blush on his cheeks. Interesting. Another thing to remember for later.

“There was a crash,” Lance begins somewhat uncertainly.

“So I’ve heard,” Fernando says, somewhat bemused. Humor is easier. It distracts him from the fact that Lance is lying here, practically lifeless, looking no more likely to move a muscle than get up and start running laps. It kills him, the inability to do anything other than sit here and crack jokes. This is not who he was supposed to be. Nothing about this is right.

Lance looks at him, playfully annoyed, and then continues again. “There was a crash. I don’t remember most of it. I was coming out of a series of turns, I think. Someone hit me. I don’t know who, steered right into me. Not their choice, I’m sure, but it took both of us straight into the barriers.”

His face contorts with confusion as he attempts to remember what happened. The lapses in memory startle Fernando more than he would like. “You must have gotten a serious hit to your head,” he says, unable to keep a grim tinge out of his words.

“That’s what the doctors said,” Lance confirms, grimacing. “I don’t really remember a lot between the crash and waking up here. They said I was out for more than half an hour.”

Fernando presses a hand to his face, dragging it roughly across the skin to try and wake himself up out of this terrible nightmare that has somehow become his reality. “All of this, and no one saw fit to tell me?”

Lance’s brow furrows. “Dad was going to make sure you knew. He told me that himself.”

All of Fernando’s grief leaves him a swift rush, replaced with blind fury. “Lawrence said that?”

At last, he has a culprit for why so much time passed before Fernando heard about this accident, and it was Lance’s own father. Disgraceful. As if Fernando hasn’t spent all of his time at Aston Martin trying to get in Lawrence’s good graces to promote the wellbeing of the team. As if he hasn’t held back on what he really wants with Lance in the name of good faith in the face of the team owner, and now this? Well. Maybe Fernando should have pulled his favorite card and simply done what he wanted in the first place.

He stands up before he realizes it. “Where are you going?” Lance asks, confused.

“I’m going to have some words with your father,” Fernando announces.

Lance’s face falls, and he starts trying to pull himself more into a seated position on his elbows. “Wait, no. He didn’t– he wasn’t trying to hurt you, Fernando, he just didn’t want you to worry.”

“The only thing I want to do right now,” Fernando informs him, “is worry.”

“Charming,” Lance says, then, in a voice verging on panic as Fernando nears the door, “Seriously, don’t. It’s not worth it.”

“What wouldn’t be?” Fernando asks, deceptively calm despite the inferno boiling between the bars of his ribcage.

He’s already at the door. Fernando can see Lawrence talking on the phone in the waiting room, where Mick is eyeing him icily– he’s on the phone while his son is in the hospital, what an asshole– and he’s about to go out there and tell Lawrence exactly what he thinks of this, bystanders be damned, but then Lance’s voice comes again, soft and quiet, and Fernando stops, fingers resting on the cool metal of the doorknob.

“Stay with me. Please.”

That’s all it takes to slow Fernando’s insatiable temper, as it turns out. Who knows how many managers and PR officers would have killed to get that information, and they’re only four words. Four words spoken by Lance Stroll, which makes the difference.

Fernando returns to his seat by Lance’s side. Lance looks distinctly pleased with himself. “I didn’t know you were so open to receiving instructions. I think I’m going to remember that.”

“You’ll forget this by tomorrow. Strong painkillers do that sometimes,” Fernando insists.

Lance’s lips curl into a catlike smile. “Sure thing, Fernando.”

Maybe he’s right after all. Fernando thinks that he might not ever forget the peace of a room when it’s just the two of them, how the heart monitor sharply upticks when Fernando reaches over to take Lance’s hand and both of them pretend they don’t notice it. Lance will be alright eventually. Wounds will heal, scars will fade, and a ferocious driver named Fernando Alonso will accept that the biggest chink in his forged-by-fire armor is a young man named Lance Stroll, and there is nothing wrong about that at all.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy, @juphey

all tags list: @wordsarelife

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silvervioletvalentine · 1 year

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🐍Always rooting for the antihero🐍

Pairing : Fernando Alonso x Cherrie

Word count: 7k

Summary: in which he’s still the bad guy and poor Lance has no clue that his girlfriend is Alonso’s ultimate prize.

Warnings: smut. Angst. Sorry to the Lance lovers but his hearts getting wrecked. My bad. Alonso Is a cunt and so is Cherrie. Also my bad. Enjoy xoxo

When Fernando walked into the meeting room, the first person he saw , already sat at the end of the ridiculously large table, was his new teammate , the only one to arrive early first. Fiddling on his phone quietly as he sipped on a cup of coffee , only looking up from his screen when he heard the sound of the door opening, greeting him with a polite smile and a little wave, happy to see his teammate who he was quickly growing fond of.

"You're here early." Alonso commented with a raise of his brow, a small smirk already tugging at his lips as he slowly walked around the table to sit at the opposite end of Lance.

"If I had a woman like yours waiting for me back home ...I don't think I would ever arrive early to anything." He slyly remarked , keeping his tone joking. Despite the pinch in his stomach he felt, a certain smugness and cruel humour that could only come along with despicable actions.

One that absolutely no one could know about, certainly not his new, innocent and oh so naive teammate who had no idea what he was truly dealing with.

Everybody around them, including the fans and their team, were so surprised and delightfully welcomed the sudden , and unusual kindness that Alonso was giving to his new teammate . Always smiling, always friendly and so willing to help poor Lance out. Always clapping him on the back and ready to give him advice . Looking out for him on the track and off it too.

You could say that the two teammates had formed quite a close friendship between them, one built on respect and kindness. A certain understanding between them to have each other's backs.

Fernando was finally the good guy. And he was loving it. He embraced the wave of love and proud pats to his back. The smiles that their team gave them after each time he bigged his new teammate up to the press. He was eating it all up, the humourful grin never leaving his face, a certain twinkle in his eye that nobody could truly read. Everybody putting down his smugness and his overconfidence to winning, to finally being happy with his car and teammate. Believing that he had finally grown up and put all of his mischievous and revengeful ways behind him.

Because he was a good guy now. A good teammate.

He could only smirk to himself , barely hiding his shit eating grin behind his hand as he sat down in his seat. Looking across the table to see Lance smiling a little shyly, completely oblivious to the subtle hints that Fernando had been giving him all along.

With all of his sly remarks and lighthearted jokes.. the truth lied right there. For him to see.

But poor Lance was so oblivious and Alonso could only laugh.

"She's still your girlfriend right? You haven't lost her yet?" He joked yet again to him, still smiling as he pulled out his own phone. Just the two of them in the empty meeting room, knowing fully well that others wouldn't start arriving yet.

But Fernando knew that Lance would be Early. He was a good guy like that. Always stuck to the rules, always wanted people to see the best in him. Wanted to prove his worth and his loyalty to those around him. He knew that.

And well, he couldn't help but want to mess with him a little. Even if he didn't know it yet.

Because Fernando was not a good guy. Never had been , and had never claimed to be. And if everybody else wanted to see him in a new light, wanted to call him so many good things and praise him for being such a good teammate and friend to Lance.. well, who was he to stop them?

They didn't have a clue. and neither did poor, innocent Lance either .

He almost felt sorry for him. Pitied him a little really because he didn't stand a chance. Not against him, he wouldn't allow him to. That just wasn't how he lived his life.

He was never second best to anybody, he was the man. The main character and he planned to stay that way for a very long time, no matter who he had to crush to get his own way.

He was the antihero after all.

He smirked to himself as he looked down at the new text on his phone, biting down on his lip as he read her reply . A late one. But hey, she still replied. He knew she would. She just couldn't resist him after all, and the feeling was absolutely mutual.

I missed you in my bed last night. Your hand is softer that mine. He had text her early this morning, as soon as he had woken up. Wishing she was there with him, despite knowing where she was and who she was currently with.

It didn't stop him. When had it ever? When he wanted something, he got it. End of.

You can't tell me things like that. Stop it. She finally texted him back. I told you it's over.

He let out a soft laugh as he quickly replied , it's never over with us though , is it? Before putting down his phone again and focusing his attention on his teammate opposite him.

Lance was looking at him with a confused smile on his face, laughing at little "yes. I'm still with her. Why wouldn't I be?" He answered his remark lightheartedly. So unaware of the game that he was playing.

"Do you know something that I don't?" He joked obliviously.

Alonso laughed. Loudly. He had to. Because the poor kid had absolutely no idea. It was pathetic really.

How could he be so oblivious? Was he really that dense? Or did the love just make him blind to what was truly going on right in front of him?

He smirked at him subtly , shaking his head almost fondly. "I know everything that you don't." He told him, that wasn't a lie.

He rose a brow at Lance slyly, keeping his tone light and joking as usual as he added "I was just wondering. Cherrie seems like the type of woman that's hard to keep."

Was he evil? He felt evil. He laughed again, taking a sip from the to go cup of coffee he had brought himself . Wondering what she was doing right now.

He knew how much she hated coffee. She always complained when he kissed her in the mornings, threatened him that she wouldn't let him anywhere near her mouth again until he brushed his teeth from the horrendous taste. He looked over at his teammate and saw Lance also sipping on his coffee, he wondered if she refused to kiss him after he drank coffee too.

He hid his smirk behind his cup, swiping his tongue across his teeth to stop himself from scoffing when he saw Lance shyly smile to himself, his cheeks going pink as he squirmed in his seat. Nervous underneath his stare.

"We're good, yeah." Lance nodded happily "she's coming to the race today actually. You'll probably see her around." He told him.

Alonso smiled, pleased. "Will I? How nice. I've missed seeing her pretty face around here." He said lightly , picking up his phone again to pull up their text thread quickly. His heart beating excitedly in his chest, knowing just what would happen next.

See you soon? He sent to her smugly already knowing the answer.

Fuck you. She sent back immediately .

He grinned to himself happily. Fuck him she would.

Not even a few hours later and Fernando let out a low groan as he pushed her heaving body against his drives room door, hiking up her hips around his waist as he held her up easily.

His lips attacking hers passionately as she moaned into his mouth, sucking on his tongue as she buried her finger into his hair, tugging at the soft strands until he was bucking his hips up against her own , finger digging into her thighs tight enough to leave bruises.

"It's over huh?" He breathed out breathlessly against her jaw as he pulled away from her lips to kiss down her neck , his tongue running over her delicate skin as he pressed her harder against the door, feeling her whole body shudder against him.

Cherrie just moaned in frustration when he put her back down on the ground, wasting no time in pushing his already loosely tied racing suit from his hips, down to the floor instead. Feeling his hands slide up her thighs and hiking her already small dress further up her hips, his eyebrow raising smugly when he felt no lace in his way.

"No panties?" He muttered, inhaling sharply as his eyes flutter in bliss, feeling her warm hand wrap around him, guiding him to where she needed him the moment .

Alonso leaning her back against the back of the couch as she jumped up ontop of it, wrapping her legs around his hips to pull him between her thighs , his face burying into her chest as he pushed into her with a low moan escaping his mouth, breathless as she clutched onto him with a pleasuree cry.

"So naughty. All for me?" He teased her as he pulled her head back by fisting her hair in his hand, his dark eyes hooded as he looked into her glaring eyes , pounding into her , hard.

Her body jostling against the couch as she panted, barely able to catch her breath enough to breath out a shaky "fuck you!" Not wanting to admit that everything she did lately , had been for him.

And not for her sweet, loving boyfriend who had absolutely no clue that his girlfriend was fucking his new teammate behind his back like this.

She was a cunt and she knew it. And she loved Lance, she did but Fernando... she inhaled sharply as she felt his hand slide around her neck to clutch at her throat , squeezing and applying enough pressure to have her seeing stars as she cried out in pleasure, feeling him in her stomach from how deep he was fucking her.

He was something else entirely.

"You are." He smugly muttered, looking down at her with a smirk as he thrust into her tight cunt, his breath hitching as he felt her squeeze around him, sucking him all the way in, so wet and warm for him.

Not Lance. Him.

"Does he fuck you like this? Can he make you feel this good?" He taunted her as he quickened his pace, hand still around her throat as he fucked her like a whore.

Her shrill moans and breathless cries filling the room, the thrill of knowing that her boyfriend could walk in anytime, only spurring him further , the pit in his stomach growing with lust and passion for the woman clutching at his shoulders, scratching up his back with her sharp nails .

His teammate was still around somewhere, speaking with their team about his strategy for the race. Blissfully unaware that his amazing teammate was fucking his girlfriend in his drivers room , just like he always did.

"Tell me!" He gritted out, still jealous despite the fact that he was the one with his cock in her tight cunt right then. Knowing that despite this, Lance was still the one who got to go home with her at the end of the night .

Alonso only ever got to have her in secret. It infuriated him.

The anger only making him fuck her harder as she gasped and whined, their eyes meeting as she panted , barely able to keep her eyes open at all.

"No! He doesn't! He doesn't!" She almost shouted through a high pitched moan , clutching at the back of his neck as he kissed her desperately , their teeth clashing from the force of his kiss. "I want you...fuck!"

"That's it. Come on baby!" He gritted out As he pulled her flush against him, both of them reaching their peek "give it to me!" He groaned out lowly as they came .

His lips still pressed to the side of her mouth as he panted against her lips, his eyes fluttering closed as he held onto her tightly .

Feeling her inhale deeply as she tried to catch her breath back, body trembling as he slowly slid out of her, reaching for a tissue from the side table to clean her up. Keeping her close to the whole time as she slowly came back down to Earth.

He pulled his racing suit back over his hips as she pulled her dress back down her thighs, cheeks flushed and hair askew , barely able to meet his smug gaze as she pushed him away, sliding down from the back of the couch.

Clearing her throat as she felt a different type of tension fill the room. Fernando simply staring her down without any shame , tiling his head at her.

"Come home with me tonight?" He knew what she was going to say, but he still asked her.

He always did.

She scowled at him, scoffing as she patted down her hair with shaky hands. Swallowing thickly as she made her way back to the door on trembling legs , the familiar slam of guilt hitting her as she avoided looking at him, heart pinching in her chest.

She had done it. Again.

She thought of her poor boyfriend and winced, feeling a little sick. Like she always did each time she did this to him.

Yet she never stopped. Alonso was right after all.

It was never truly over between them.

"You know I can't." She muttered to him, shaking her head scornfully . Wishing he would just stop giving himself hope all the time that she would chose him beyond sex.

Fernando just rose a brow at her, scoffing. "You can but you're too scared of what people will think huh?" He knew her all too well.

Smirking at her a little , laughing when she refused to answer him .

"When people find out that you're fucking your boyfriends new teammate . One Old enough to be your daddy.." he teased her lowly as he slowly walked over to her, gently sliding her hair over her shoulder as he leaned down to gently kiss the back of her neck. Breathing her in before she left him again.

She gritted her teeth guiltily , angry with him for making her feel this way. For making her Feel this good.

"No one is going to find out." It came out as a threat as she shrugged him off her. Glaring at him "this isn't happening again." She lied as she pulled open the door quickly before she could fall into his arms again.

It would be too easy.

Fernando just smiled at her, even passing her the leather bag she brought with her sweetly . Kissing her cheek goodbye.

"Sure. I'll see you tomorrow then? Same time? Same place?"

All he got was a middle finger and the slamming of the door in his face before he burst into laughter , shaking his head to himself smugly as he threw himself down onto the couch he had just been fucking her up against.

Poor Lance. He thought to himself with smirk. He'd find out eventually.

He always won in the end.

Cherrie had thought that they were doing a good job of keeping their affair hidden from those around them.

She always made sure that he left no marks , always escaped straight after the deed was done. She had made sure for so long that there was no evidence and no trails to what they were doing, it had been their little secret.

And maybe the dirty secret between them could have been kept forever if Alonso hadn't suddenly decided that no longer did he care to be discreet , and no longer did he want to share her with her oblivious boyfriend , who was none the wiser to what they were up to when his back was turned.

Because no longer did he act like it was a secret. No longer did he double check that the doors were locked behind them. No longer did he look around to make sure that nobody could see them when he kissed her in a darkened hallway.

He didn't care about anybody finding out anymore, why would he? He wanted people to know. Wanted Lance to find out the truth so that he wouldn't have to hide his affections and his love for Cherrie in public anymore.

So despite her warning snarls and gritted teeth, mutttered threats for him to behave tonight , he ignored it all.

Because honestly , he didn't give a single fuck about anybody else. All he wanted was to have her for himself. He didn't care who knew .

So that night when a few of the drivers were having lunch together at a fancy restaurant, he smoothly slid into the seat beside Cherrie at The table before her boyfriend could slide in next to her.

Simply grinning up at his startled teammate who had been about to sit down beside her , Lance looking down at him in confusion , while Cherrie just glared at him silently , her heart rate increasing dramatically once she noticed the mischievous and uncaring look on Fernando's face.

"What?" He spoke up as innocently as possible , smirking to himself as he ignored the 'I will kill you if you do this to me tonight.' Look that he was getting from the woman beside him.

"You're always beside her. It's time that you let somebody else have a turn at entertaining her man." He kept his tone joking , despite meaning every word.

Lance , poor , oblivious lance, just shrugged with a easy going smile on his face . Taking the seat opposite them at the table instead , right beside mick.

"I hope you're ready to hear all the details from her shopping trip with the girls then. She hasn't shut up about it since she got home." Lance joked back, giving his girlfriend a smile , Cherrie only managing to give him a small one back. The guilt slowly eating her alive .

Fernando just hummed , turning his head to peer at her with a small smile on his face .

"Buy anything pretty for me?" He lowered his voice as he teased her, so only she could hear him as the conversations picked up around the table. Leaving him to his mischief.

Cherrie inhaled Sharply as she felt his warm hand land on her bare thigh underneath the table , narrowing her eyes at him warningly .

Eyes quickly glittering around the table to make sure that nobody was paying attention to them. Mick, Pierre and Lance already chatting about the last race while Lando and Charles, who was seated on the other side of her, talked about gaming together sometime again.

"Well, depends. I don't think you have the legs for a Chanel mini dress." She hissed at him underneath her breath , face slowly colouring as she tensed up in her seat, feeling his hand slowly crawl higher and higher up her thigh. Squeezing her leg gently as goosebumps littered her skin.

Fernando just grinned at her smugly "I look good in anything." He remarked arrogantly before muttering "how did you like the lace set I bought you? I had it sent to your room last night." His mind already running wild with imagining her beautiful body in the lace lingerie .

She just looked at him for a moment , chewing on the inside of her cheek as she tried not to inhale the warm scent of his cologne, eyes lingering on his cheeky smile and crinkled eyes. Heart beating like a drum in her chest.

Why did he have to be so handsome? She thought to herself in misery. Why did he have to have such a boyish twinkle in his eyes? He was just her type and he knew it.

He was going to kill her at this rate. Squirming a little in her seat as she felt her stomach tingle as his fingers rubbed soft circles onto the inside of her thigh.

Spelling out his name on her skin with his fingertips.

"You shouldn't have. What if Lance had opened it and seen the little note you left with it? It's like you want him to find out." She muttered at him, on edge and guiltily lustful as she tried not to linger on how good he looked in his unbuttoned white dress shirt and dark blue jeans.

Alonso just chuckled , not replying for a moment as their food was served. Seeing the red wine in her glass and the champagne in his own, he swapped the glasses and gave her his own. Knowing that she didn't like red wine at all.

He glanced momentarily over at Lance, silently shaking his head at how her boyfriend didn't seem to know her that well at all. Why had he ordered her red wine when she hated it?

Then he glanced at her pasta salad and rolled his eyes as well , swapping his plate of steak and rice to her without a single word being spoken .

"I don't give a shit." He simply mumbled as he took a sip of the red wine, nodding at a speechless Cherrie, who was smiling to herself at the way he had silently swapped their foods and drinks without even saying a thing.

"You look very fuckable tonight." He whispered to her slyly after taking a bite of the pasta salad, scrunching his nose up a little at the bland taste.

Cherrie flushed, shaking her head at him scornfully. "Very romantic. You really have a way with words." She muttered , unimpressed. Taking a large swig off the champagne . Having a feeling she was going to need more than one glass.

Fernando smiled at her genuinely , nudging her shoulder with his. Unable to take his eyes off her "you look beautiful my love."

She smiled.

Neither of them noticing the way Charles was looking at them from where he was set beside her, his eyes widening as he leaned back in his seat and caught sight of fernandos hand on her thigh.

Closely Watching the way the older man was whispering to cherrie, who was giggling quietly at whatever he was telling her. Both of them looking like they were in their own loved up bubble.

He couldn't believe it .

He looked across the table at Lance, amazed at the sight of the driver laughing loudly at something Pierre had said. Oblivious to what was going on right in front of him.

But Charles wasn't . And he could only feel his pity and anger grow as he watched them beside him , flirting and exchanging familiar touches all throughout the night.

Blinking in disbelief when he watched Fernando lean his head down halfway through dinner to kiss cherries bare shoulder gently , Cherrie just smiling at him with stars In her eyes.

After so much booze , he couldn't hold it in any longer. Once he noticed Fernando being distracted by Pierre asking him a question about racing, he leaned in closer to Cherrie with a deep frown on his face.

"What the hell are you doing?" He snapped at her quietly in disgust . Eyes glaring into her own .

Startled, she swallowed nervously and looked back at him with wide eyes. "Eating?" She answered the obvious .

Heart pounding nervously in her chest once she noticed the way Charles kept looking between her and Fernando , who still hadn't taken his hand off her thigh the entire dinner.

Charles scoffed lowly at her, shaking his head scornfully . "Your boyfriend might be oblivious but I'm not." He let her know angrily "how could you do this to Lance? I can't Believe you..!"

Cherrie was quick to hush him, shooting him a glare that had him leaning back in his seat quickly . She had always been a very intimidating woman when she wanted to be.

"Shut up. You don't know what you're talking about." She spat back at him underneath her breath .

Charles scoffed even louder than he meant to, making the drivers around them look over at them curiously.

Fernando tilting his head curiously once he noticed the glare that he was receiving from the Ferrari driver, he simply smirked back at him. Amused at his attempt at intimidation.

It wasn't going to effect him because he simply didn't give a shit about what he thought.

The only person he cared about was himself and Cherrie. Nobody else mattered to him. End of.

"I'm going to the bathroom. Excuse me." She quickly made her excuses to the table, hurriedly getting up and stomping off to the toilets , panic and frustration filling her veins.

Just wishing that Alonso could have kept his hands to himself and stopped himself from flirting with her every five seconds at the table. Maybe then Charles wouldn't have been any wiser.

She wondered what it said about her relationship that Charles had noticed their closeness all night but her own boyfriend hadn't. Who only looked startled at the sight of her rushing off to the bathroom all of a sudden.

"Excuse me." Charles also muttered, sending them all a tense smile . "Need a piss." He blurted out ungracefully before hurrying down the hallway after her.

Wanting to find out what the hell she thought she was doing, wondering how everyone else could have been so oblivious to what had been going on right beneath their noses the entire time.

He caught her arm in his grip before she could disappear into the woman's bathroom , Cherrie slapping his hand away from her arm with a aggravated huff.

"What?!" She snapped at him uncomfortably , shifting on her feet when she saw the glare he was aiming at her.

Charles pursed his lips and shook his head at her in disgust . "Fernando? You're messing around with your boyfriends teammate now? What the hell is wrong with you?!" He almost shouted at her in disbelief .

Having always thought of her as a sweet, innocent woman who would never do such a thing.

How wrong he was. And how wrong they were about Alonso’s new , nice guy act too.

"You don't know what you're talking about." She repeated to him. Unable to look him in the eyes, instead she looked down the hall to where the exit doors were. Wondering if she could make a break for it.

Charles looked at her in astonishment "you're kidding me! He had his hand between your thighs the entire night! Flirting with you and - I heard him say he bought you lingerie? Do you think I'm stupid?!" He snapped at her, upset for Lance.

He was such a nice guy. He didn't deserve this.

Cherrie just shrugged her shoulders, getting pissed off at him for cornering her about something that wasn't any of his business in the first place.

"I think you're a lot of things Charles. But a snitch isn't one of them , right?" She levelled him with a threatening glare. Voice cold and cruel. Truly not giving a shit about what he thought anymore.

Charles was speechless . He could only look at the beautiful woman in front of him in stunned silence , unable to believe how she was behaving. This wasn't like her at all.

"You're a lot of things too but I didn't take you for a cheat Cherrie." He spat back at her , shaking his head "was it just with Fernando or another driver too? I see You clearly have a type!"

He was so lucky that she couldn't slap him without everybody questioning them.

So instead she settled on shoving past him with a snarl "fuck you Charles! Shut your mouth!" The warning was clear.

Charles let out a unamused laugh as he watched her walk away. "Oh fucking you is invitation only now? How lovely!"

She just stuck up her finger at him behind her back, not looking back as she stormed away angrily.

Fernando only looked up at her calmly when she stomped back to the table with a look of thunder on her face , announcing to them quickly that she was going back home.

Lance looked at his girlfriend in confusion , raising a brow at her in concern. "What's the matter? I'll come with you -" he made his way to get up.

Cherrie quickly waved him away, unable to look him in the eyes. Swallowing dryly as she met Fernando gaze, seeing him already quirking a eyebrow up af her, nodding subtly to the front doors of the restaurant.

You want to go? His look asked her.

She inhaled deeply and subtly nodded her head yes, before addressing her boyfriend again.

"No! No. You stay. I just have a headache and want to go to sleep." She laughed fakely as she pulled on her coat "all that champagne probably."

Lance was still frowning at her, despite sitting back down in his seat at her easy command .

"You sure? I don't want you to go alone-"

Fernando slowly stood up as well, smiling at his teammate . ""I'll take her home. Don't you worry about it Lance. Enjoy the rest of your night with the guys." He told him casually as he pushed his seat in, grabbing cherries clutch bag from the table too.

He even winked at her boyfriend too "have some more champagne eh? She's alright with me." He said to him as he gently placed his hand at the bottom of her back, guiding them away from the table and to the front doors instead.

Just as Charles came back from the bathroom , his eyes widening even further as he watched Fernando smugly raise a brow at him, daring him to say something to him.

He stayed silent. Too shocked to speak. Unable to believe how oblivious they had all been.

"Oh okay." Lance agreed easily. Smiling at them both brightly . "I'll see you later then babe." He directed towards his silent girlfriend leaning against Fernando side, yawning to herself as she glanced impatiently at the doors.

She just hummed . Not giving a scowling Charles another glance before Fernando guided them both away. Leaving just as quick as they arrived.

Charles inhaled deeply as he watched them step out onto the street. Watching closely as Alonso stroked the back of her head tenderly , giving her a soft smile and kiss to the side of her head, Cherrie beaming up at him as he led them away to his car before speeding off without any hesitation .

Alonso took a left turn at the end of the road.

To get to Lance's and Cherries apartment you had to turn right , not left . Charles could only swallow uneasily.

His silence only lasted another hour before he finally broke it after another bottle of champagne reached his system .

After Hearing Lance questioning whether he should call his girlfriend or not to see if she was doing okay.

He couldn't hold back his scoff. Lance, Pierre , Lando and mick looking over at him in surprise , shocked to see the look on his face.

"Why bother calling her? You might as well call Alonso seeing as he's with her." He said to him bluntly . Still reeling from what he had seen.

Lance frowned at him, confused. "He'll have dropped her off by now. Probably in bed at his own home." He said naively .

Pierre looked at his best friend warily when he let out a loud laugh , grinning in disbelief at the Canadian driver.

"You really believe that mate?" He slurred out incredulously.

"Yes?" Lance looked at him with a frown. Not understanding what he was going on about.

"Charles.." Pierre warned him, already having a feeling that what he knew wasn't going to be good for Lance to hear.

Lando and mick just looked between them in confusion , silently watching as Charles laughed and laughed and laughed. Even though nothing was funny at all.

"Mate.. Alonso has had his hands on your girlfriend all night. Kissing her shoulder and jaw.. and you're telling me that you have no clue to what's going on?!" He exclaimed in disbelief. Looking at him like he was stupid.

And maybe he was. Lance swallowed , heart dropping down to his stomach as he looked at the ferrari driver silently . Thinking back over the night. Having seen the two of them close but...

"He's just a friendly guy Charles." He weakly excused as his world came crashing down against him.

Lando looked at them in shock, finally catching on to what Charles was insinuating.

"Nando is fucking Cherrie?!" He gasped. Mouth wide open.

Poor mick was gaping at them too while Pierre already had his head in his hands, wondering why his friend couldn't stay out of other peoples business for a change.

Poor Lance. They all thought with a pitiful wince. Said driver paling horribly as the ugly realisation of truth finally set in.

"They wouldn't - I mean- he's older than her-" he stammered out in denial.

Pierre had to wince at that "I mean..she did date that forty year old football player before she dated you. So I don't think age is the problem .."

Lance glared at him angrily "no. It's the fact that my girlfriend is apparently fucking my teammate, that's the problem!" He snapped furiously . Heart breaking in his chest. Having trusted the both of them dearly.

"Maybe she isn't.." mick weakly tried to offer, wincing when Lance let out a mixture between a laugh and a cry. Burying his face into his hands as

the pieces all fell into each horrible place for him.

"She travelled to Spain for a whole month over our break. Told me it was for a girls holiday." He muttered. Feeling sick now as it all added up.

Lando grimaced , sharing a look with the others, no one knowing what to do or say at all.

"Mate...Alonso lives there. How did you not realise this sooner?" He muttered in shock. They all were.

Lance sniffled , Downing his glass of wine in one go. "Because he was so nice. But apparently he's just been pretending to be so that I wouldn't find out that he's been screwing my girlfriend the whole time." He groaned in misery "oh god. How long do you think this has been going on?" He dared to ask.

Charles just scoffed "ask the fucker. He's smug enough that he'd tell you. He's not feeling guilty at all. He's just left with your girlfriend man.. and you let him!"

Lance cried "well - how was I supposed to know that they'd been having some fucking affair the whole time?!" He exclaimed through his tears as he brought out his phone. Quickly bringing up his text thread with his teammate. His eyes blurry with tears as he typed out

How long have you been fucking my girlfriend Fernando?

Not even five minutes passed before his phone buzzed on the table in front of him. All of the drivers leaning in to see what he had wrote back to him.

"Oh fuck man.." Pierre grimaced to himself in disbelief , sharing a shocked look with Lando and mick who were gaping at his phone , stunned .

Nearly a year now. Our anniversary is next week. The thing is Lance , is that when you have a woman like Cherrie .. you have to hold onto her tightly otherwise somebody else will steal her away from you.

And maybe you should have tried remembering how much she hates red wine and salad. Maybe you should have took more care to ask where she was and who she was with.

You didn't even buy her flowers for her birthday. I took her home with me instead while you got drinks with the boys …

Now I'm going to buy her flowers for the rest of my life. Because I love her and she loves me.

I guess I'll See you in a few weeks teammate! adiós!

Then a picture was attached to the message, Lance in a state of shock as he looked at the picture that he had sent him showing them both cuddled up on a private plane .. an arrow drawn on the photo with the words 'going home.' Plastered on it.

He dropped his phone back to the table with a clatter, feeling Pierre and Lando pat his back in pity while mick just kept looking at Fernando's texts in disbelief .

"Guess he wasn't kidding about being the anti hero after all." He muttered to himself in shock.

By the time that they managed to drag a tearful Lance back home to a empty bedroom, her clothes all gone from her side of the wardrobe. They were already half way across the world, a smug Alonso holding a sleeping Cherrie to his chest as they traveled back to Spain again. To start brand new together. Just like he had planned.

Because he always got what he wanted in the end. No matter who's heart had to be broken in the process.

He won.

#f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 fic #f1 oneshot #formula 1 imagine #Fernando Alonso imagine #Fernando Alonso oneshot

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dreamingonclds · 2 months

Text

Unintentional | FA14

Summary: Y/n and Fernando Alonso were both professionals, both only seemingly having time for their careers. They both have had their fair share of relationships but they’ve never become serious for either of them. Y/n is an A-list celebrity, a highly respected actress and Fernando a champion athlete, a Formula One driver. Nobody could’ve ever imagined both of their paths to cross but, they do. It was said that their relationship was destined to fail, their 16 year age gap being too large to be sustained. But, to everyone's surprise, a blessing they created without intention was just enough to fill that gap, like fate.

Pairing: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Word Count: 2,722

Warnings: None

Chapter 1

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As you meticulously applied your lipstick, your mind couldn’t help but wander to the thought of who you would meet tonight. Your stomach bubbled with nerves, a sensation you always got with meeting new people; despite how long you had been in the industry for. You met new people almost weekly, nothing new in the entertainment industry. You were used to meeting wealthy business people and pretending to care about anything that came out of their mouths. But you were genuine about meeting new directors, writers, and filmmakers; you genuinely cared about what they had to say.

Tonight was no different, you had been invited to a dinner by some friends. It just so happened that those friends were in the industry too and it just so happened that the dinner would be in Beverly Hills. So, you knew that tonight would be a night of pretending to care because the people who actually cared for the artistry of entertainment would never choose to dine in Beverly Hills. And you were a professional, so you sucked it up, put a smile on your face, and decided to have a good night.

So, you decided that to have a good night you had to have a good outfit. You were a public figure, a very popular one at that, so you did have to dress to impress. And you didn’t mind, you loved fashion and you loved to shop so it all worked out. You also cared about your appearance and wanted people to like you, but not for how you looked. You wanted people to like you for the person you were and what you brought to the table. And unfortunately, that goes hand in hand with physicality in this world. So you slip on a back silk dress because those always do the job.

Arriving at the restaurant, you thank your chauffeur as he helps you out of the car and guides you to the entrance. Stepping into the restaurant you’re immediately greeted by your friends and introduced to all the unfamiliar faces. Soon enough you're all making your way through the restaurant, several diners turning their heads to you all, some trying to sneakily snap pictures which you notice every time. Once you're seated at the ridiculously large table, you notice the empty seat beside you and around the table.

“People missing?” you ask your friend sitting right across from you.

“Yeah, they’re running a little late but they should be here very soon.” she answers, giving you a small smile.

After a little conversation, you all turn your heads to the chatter that is seemingly making its way towards you all. Sure enough, it’s the missing half of your party and as you scan your eyes through all of them, one catches your eye.

“Here they are!” your friend announces, standing up to greet them and everyone follows.

In the midst of the commotion, bodies moving left to right you hear your friend declare seating arrangements.

“Fernando, why don’t you sit next to Y/N, she speaks Spanish too.” she says pointing you out so he knows who you are.

You see a man nod and begin to approach, you notice the brunette with semi-shaggy hair and a short beard. Sure enough, it’s the one who caught your eye earlier on. He greets you with a kiss on both cheeks that you reciprocate and helps you into your seat.

“What a gentleman, thanks. Fernando, right?” you look towards him, wanting to start a conversation like the rest of the table is doing

“Of course, Y/n?” he nods in response and you do the same, noticing his accent. As you make eye contact, you begin to note the faint lines around his eyes and the maturity of his face. Your mind begins to wonder, whether he’ll take you seriously noticing the lack of physical maturity on your 26-year-old face. Usually, men over 5 years older than you never took you seriously, their conversations always started professional but quickly turned to comments about your body and sexual experience.

Before either of you could get another word in, the waiter begins to ask for your drinks of choice. Usually, you would go for a beverage that would liven you up but, you had a rule that you only drank at dinner when everybody at the table were your friends. So, you asked for the next best thing.

“I’ll take a coke please.” you tell the waiter, who quickly jots it down and looks to Fernando next

“Uh, I’ll take the same please” Fernando turns to look at you with a confused look

“Oh, I don’t know everybody at this table so, I’d like to get to know you with a sober mind.” you tell him matter of factly, hoping that was the explanation he was looking for. Although it was the truth, you did want to get to know the rest of the table; but specifically him. In what seemed like record time, the waiter comes back setting down all of your drinks.

“Igualmente” Likewise he nods towards the brown beverage in front of him.

“I thought maybe you were still too young to drink, you look young, why do you want to get to know me?” he asks, bringing his glass to his lips.

“I’m 26, not that young. And you're sitting right beside me, we have a long night ahead. Why not get to know you; your friends.” you add the last part in, trying to deflect and hide your interest in him; hoping he doesn’t catch on.

“Why’d you copy me, I mean no offense but, you don’t look like you just turned 21?” he brought up your age first, two can play at that game.

He chuckles, still looking at you.

“I’m 42, not that young either.” he says in truth. And before you can respond he speaks again.

“Pretty girl, pretty dress.” he brings his glass to his lips, looking away nonchalantly.

“And you’re sitting right beside me.” he states matter of factly, using your own words against you.

Your jaw drops the slightest and your eyebrows scrunch in surprise. His confidence, so abrupt it takes you a few seconds to bring your face back to its natural resting place. Despite your efforts to look cool and unaffected, you can see the pride your reaction gives him. With a teaseful look in his eye, he offers you a smirky smile that makes your stomach erupt in butterflies. Your cheeks and ears go hot, and you now find it hard to sit still or contain the smile pulling at your lips.

The rest of the night goes exactly as expected, the two of you deep in conversation and completely ignoring the rest of the table. There’s a tension that's rising that even the others can feel. Neither of you even realize how many times they’ve teased you two or tried to get you to join their conversation. You’ve also failed to notice the pointed phones from other diners and sneaky restaurant workers.

As you all are ending your dinner, restaurant patrons and workers start making their way to your table. Asking for pictures and autographs from you and your party alike, both separately and together. Little did you know that those images would lead to a whirlwind of speculation, the world seemed to spiral at the thought of you together.

Your group converses outside the restaurant for a few minutes, a back and forth of what the plans for the rest of the night were. You stood there to yourself contemplating whether you wanted to continue your night. You had a fitting in the morning and a couple of online meetings you had to prepare for. Considering it was nearing 1 am, you decided to head home with a professional attitude to your day ahead.

Before you can interrupt the group to bid your goodbye, Fernando makes his way to your side.

“Are you going out for more drinks too?” he turns to you.

“I have meetings in the morning, I think I’m just gonna head home.” you nod your head.

“Me too actually, I drove here by myself. Let me take you home.” he points at himself.

“Yeah, that’d be nice actually; thank you.”

You both take a few steps forward towards the group, ready to bid your farewells together. But before either of you can mutter a word, your friend's chatter amplifies into a passionate discussion about who knows what. Fernando turns to look at you, an amused smile on his lips that turns into a chuckle after noticing your surprised expression.

“Mejor nos esperamos.” We better wait, he jokes, and you giggle looking towards him, only to realize his eyes were already set on you.

“Buena idea” Good idea, you say with a smile, continuing the playful vibe of the setting. You two carry on with your light-hearted conversation. Unconsciously backing away from the group until your back hits the restaurant's ornate rail. Fernando holding on to the rail on your right side, halfway caging you in, seemingly protecting you from passersby giving you questioning glances; realizing who you were.

Your conversation continues and you two get lost in getting to know each other. You learn that he’s a champion F1 driver and he learns the movies he’s seen you in, not knowing it was you. Before he can finish saying where his next race will be, you're drawn out of your heart to heart by shouts from your group.

“Hey lovebirds, you guys coming?” your friend shouts pointing down the street, implying a prolonged night out.

A sheepish smile forms on your lips and you shake your head, “We both have busy mornings tomorrow. We’re gonna skip this one!”

“Alright then, don’t have too much fun!” someone teases, causing the rest of the group to laugh.

Fernando smiles and shakes his head at the joke, “I’m just going to take her home!”

You all exchange thank you’s and appreciation for dinner before saying your goodbyes. Then begin to make your way down your respective sides of the street. He leads you to his car, not in front of you but by walking closely behind you, guiding you with a light touch to your back. He helps you in, chivalrously, taking your bag from you, opening the door, and taking your hand to help you in. You take notice of what car he drove, a luxurious sports car, that to you matched the reputation of an F1 champion. You questioned yourself on if you wanted him to live up to the reputation of a man like him.

Before he can drive off, he makes sure you’re both buckled in and asks for your address. You give it to him and then you're off to your luxurious hotel, which the movie you were in Beverly Hills for set you up with. You two continue your conversation the whole time, only stopping when Fernando gets out of the car first to open your door. He walks you to your room, as he insists on “dropping you off”. But really, you’re more than happy to oblige to his request as you didn’t want the night to end.

“No paps.” Fernando blurts randomly, as you both make your way through the lobby.

You scan the room and realize he was right, you only saw the employees and the occasional normal guest.

“Oh yeah” you acknowledge, normally every hotel in Beverly Hills was swamped with paparazzi no matter the time. So you worked it up to luck, you two got lucky tonight. Little did you know that this would foreshadow the rest of your relationship.

You make it to your room and unlock the door, stepping into the doorframe and turning to face Fernando. You two stand there for a few seconds, just staring at each other, Fernando's hands in his pants pockets and your hand on the door, an undeniable tension lingers between you two.

“Do you want to come in?” you suggest hesitantly, pointing inside, ready to face rejection.

“Uh yeah, can I?” he answers quickly, surprising you and catching you off guard.

“Come on in.” you say, widening the door and stepping back, letting him inside. He makes his way towards the living room area of your massive hotel room and you follow him. Before you can sit down on the couch beside him, you notice the complimentary bottle of champagne in the ice bucket, now sitting in water that was ice a few hours ago. You go to the table and pull out the bottle from the bucket, wrapping it in a towel to prevent it from dripping.

“Quieres?” Do you want some? You offer him, showing him the bottle.

“Por favor” Please He stands up and heads towards you, taking the bottle from your hands to open it himself. You hold up the two glasses, also on the table, for him to pour into. After pouring, he sets the bottle down and you hand him his glass.

“Gracias” Thank you You both say at the same time, which causes you both to giggle.

“Let's go to the balcony” you suggest and head outside, he follows you but, not before grabbing the bottle to take with.

You lean on the rail, one forearm resting on it while your other arm brings the glass to your lips. Fernando places the bottle on the small table conveniently outside and then he goes to stand in front of you. He halfway cages you in again, one arm holding the rail close to your side, and you notice this protective pattern of his. Both of you stand there, not saying anything with words but instead through the looks you’re giving each other.

“You are very beautiful.” he blurts out, scanning your face with a pensive expression on his face.

You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion for a quick second before smiling and meeting his eyes.

“Thank you, you are very beautiful too.” you respond in honesty and nod your head when he looks at you confused. A shy smile breaks onto his face and he looks at the ground stepping away from you.

He looks back up, licking his lips ever so slightly and takes the glass from your hand. He goes to place yours and his glass on the table while you stand there confused. He comes back to his original spot in front of you but this time way closer than before. His hand comes up to cup the side of your face and your eyes look deep into his as his thumb caresses your cheek. You go to say something but are cut off by his lips pressed against yours. You quickly catch on and move your lips with his. His hand comes off of your face and moves to your waist, you step away from the rail to try and get closer to him. He wraps both of his arms low around your waist and his fingers dance right above your bum. You instinctively bring your arms up to wrap around his neck and your fingers go to dance in his hair at the nape of his neck.

He smoothly turns you both around so now he is against the railing. Your makeout continues for a short minute until you realize something and your eyes open.

“I don’t kiss on the first date.” you say exasperated, pulling away and trying to catch your breath. He leans back trying to get a look at you, breathing heavily, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“But I’ll make an exception tonight.” you say quickly, he smiles before you lean in and desperately attack his lips again. He grabs your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist and walks inside towards the bed. He gently lays you down and stands back up separating your lips, he swiftly removes his shirt before hungrily coming back down on top of you.

The rest of the night goes as expected and contrary to your usual experience with men, he stays the night. You both sleep comfortably in each other's arms, not even wondering how it all led to this moment. Although you were both trying to figure out why this all felt so natural, you both knew one thing, this was the start of something special.

Taglist:

@minkyungseokie

@ursforever129

@thatchickwiththecamera

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paddockbunny · 11 months

Text

The Dress

Summary: Fernando Alonso is the biggest flirt in Formula One and he particularly likes flirting with you. This is what happens when you happen to wear a dress he more than likes. Rating: 16+ with adult, mature themes Pairing : Fernando Alonso x Reader Word Count : 958 - ONE SHOT Trigger Warnings : NSFW themes implied, flirting, age gap relationships and a little sprinkle of judgey colleagues Images : Found on Pinterest 💕 Authors Note : I forgot to answer this as a request 🫠

List : List A. Prompt : #143 - “You look beautiful. But I’m afraid you’d look more gorgeous with that dress off you.” (Note: line changed to - ““You wear such a beautiful dress and don’t expect me to be the one taking it off you?”

Fernando was a flirt. A first class, top rate flirt. As soon as you joined the paddock as an onscreen presenter last year you realised this. You grew up watching the man race so to have him in front of you constantly trying to get you to blush was perhaps the most flattering thing to ever happen in your life. Your stomach twisted when you noticed he was walking over. His PR handler giving you the knowing nod before he himself reached you. He had had a podium finish (P3) so you knew he was going to be more flirtatious than usual with you.

“Ah” He smiled broadly. “Mi Princesa de la television.” He called you by the nickname he had bestowed upon you mid last season – which, with the help of Google translate, you worked out meant my television princess – and was always a sure fire way to make you smile for him. You found the older man more handsome since he made his move to Aston Martin. Not that he wasn’t handsome before but the dark green set off against his lovely tanned skin really got you going. This year he seemed like he was more relaxed and gave insightful, thoughtful answers to your questions more than his frustrating years at Alpine.

Your interview with him went by in the blink of an eye and not once did he ever break eye contact with you which meant you spent the whole time keeping your heart rate under control. You never failed to get big smiles out of him and today, celebrating his podium, was no different. Your “friendship” with Fernando was something that made you the envy of other journalists in the paddock. He was always your easiest interviewee and saved all the good sound bites especially for you. As you noticed the light on the top of your cameraman’s camera go off – signalling you were no longer live – Fernando couldn’t wait to take the opportunity suddenly handed to him. In perfect English he asks you; “What are your plans tonight?” Which resulted in you explaining you were intending to pack your suitcase so you were ready for your early morning flight home. Fernando replies quickly with a defiant head shake and practically orders you into having dinner with him.

“Fernando I cant, it’s really not,” You were going to say appropriate but he stopped you midsentence. He leaned in across the barrier, his hot breath ghosted across your cheek. For the briefest of moments you thought he might kiss you and cause a hell of a media storm but he didn’t. He simply continued toward your ear. His lips dangerously close to it when he was the boldest he had ever been.

“You wear such a beautiful dress and don’t expect me to be the one taking it off you?” His words dripped with his strong Spanish accent. They lashed at the sensitive skin on your neck as you tried hard not to let out a shocked gasp at his words. It was the first time he had been so bold since he had began this dance of flirting with you. The sudden forwardness sent a strong pulsating ache straight between your thighs as you thought about him doing exactly what he suggested, removing your dress.

“And now you’re thinking about me naked.” He pulled back and smirked broadly. It made you laugh. Really laugh. Enough that other people snapped their necks to check out what was going on. You didn’t need to see the reactions of your fellow journalists because you could already feel their eyes on you (and their no doubt disapproving looks). They hadn’t been able to hear what Fernando had whispered to you but the action of him leaning in like that was clearly enough to spark their imaginations.

“Dinner, Hermosa. Then you can decide if that dress looks better on or on my hotel room floor.” They had certainly heard that one. He hadn’t bothered to lower his voice this time. As one older, European commentator tutted audibly – It would have been dumb of you not to register his reaction as him attempting to shame you for being a rather above average looking woman working in motorsport (as if you hadn’t already faced all of their degrading comments about your looks almost every single race weekend already) but you realised you didn’t care – you felt an unexpected boldness grip hold of you that somewhat mimicked the man standing in front of you (trying hard not to check out your boobs in your dress).

“Dinner.” Fernando raised his eyebrow at your acceptance “And then we will see about the dress.” He had never heard you so confident before. You crumbled whenever he would toy with you but this time you accepted his offer in the most alluring manner you could muster. You had always been a nervous flirt - always the one to back down when it started getting too obvious – but now, in this setting with colleagues ready to judge you, you simply thought “fuck it”. If this was your one chance to fuck a formula one driver by hell you were going to take it.

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redbullgirly · 3 months

Note

Hellooo 👋, can you write enemies to lovers with fernando alonso maybe with some angst? 🤭

It's totally alright if you don't want to! Thankssss :))

EL DESTINO [FA14 oneshot]

Fernando Alonso x reader

Masterlist

Summary: Y/N works for Alpine, and even though Fernando Alonso isn't part of the team anymore, they can't forget their distaste for each other. The driver seems to think she's just an irresponsible party girl and Y/N doesn't like him because he's, well... annoying and mean and doesn't care about anybody but himself. Though could they be both wrong in their prejudices?

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Not much, maybe they're kind of mean to each other and stupid at the start, but that's the point of enemies to lovers, right? XD

Author's Note: Hello Anon and thank you for the request! I didn't expect it to turn out so long, but hey XD. I hope you and everybody else will like it. Also I tried for a little bit of angst, but I'm not sure if I'm good at it... you can let me know :).

If anyone could read your thoughts at the moment, you’d probably end up locked behind bars and with the key from your cell thrown far away. Whoever's great idea was to allow the group of inexperienced interns to touch the important data and statistics deserved to rot seven feet underground. Chopped into small pieces. And doused in poison that eats their lifeless body until there's nothing left.

Okay, that's maybe a bit too violent, but still not far from the truth.

You rubbed your tired eyes, not caring about smudging the mascara anymore. There was basically no one left in the building, just a few mechanics desperately needing the cars to be in perfect condition tomorrow – or should we say today? And then there was you, who stupidly agreed to fix the disaster caused by too much excitement and not enough cautiousness. You knew the interns didn't do it on purpose, and blaming them wasn't going to help you, but still. It wasn't them who had to sit there long after their working hours ended, staring into a too bright computer screen.

When you finally managed to save all the damaged data, it was almost three in the morning, and before you made it back to the hotel, you weren't sure if it was even worth going to bed. Because of the emergency, you didn't have time to finish your usual duties. And even though it wouldn't be fair to want the analysis from you, that wasn't how the game was played in motorsport.

Legs almost giving out under you, you dragged yourself to the elevator. The poor lady sitting at the receptionist desk looked at you skeptically, but didn't say anything as you stepped in and pressed the button with the number of your floor on it. Generic music started playing, numbing your brain even more.

The metal door was about to close, but then a hand came between it. Before you blinked and processed what's happening, a man slipped into the elevator right next to you, pressing his own number.

You see, everything could have been fine. You could've just survived the thirty seconds of embarrassing silence, then mumble a polite goodbye and go to sleep in peace. But no. Fate apparently had other plans for you.

Because as the man turned to you and the bright light hit his face, you realized it wasn't just some stranger.

Suddenly, the silence shifted from the normal elevator weirdness to tension. You pressed your lips together, silently cursing the higher power that decided to mess with your life just today, when you looked like a zombie. With smudged mascara. Perfect.

For someone, maybe it would be a fulfilled dream to be in an elevator with Fernando Alonso. Two time World Champion, great driver, loved person. And a dickhead that almost ruined your whole career.

“You look like you had a wild night,” he murmured with a thick Spanish accent. You narrowed your brows, trying to control the anger bubbling inside of you. Was he trying to insult you? You wouldn't even be surprised.

“Perhaps I did, thank you very much.” Your voice lacked any signs of friendliness, clearly trying to provoke him. It was quite funny, really, how a minute ago you didn't have energy to think clearly, and now you were ready to argue with this man over anything. Almost like the magic of despising someone.

You noticed his jaw tensing and knew it wouldn't be good. But still, his words hurt: “Maybe if you focused more on doing your job instead of wild nights out, Alpine would do better.”

The sting in your chest was strong, but by some miracle the elevator finally stopped, and the robotic voice announced the twenty-sixth floor. Even life itself took pity on you, it seemed.

Without any other word, you turned away from Alonso and walked into the empty hallway, hearing a quiet scoff and then the door sliding closed again behind you, leaving you all alone in the darkness. How poetic.

Every door you passed looked exactly the same, and you just hoped you remembered your room number correctly.

You didn't even remember taking out the card and entering your temporary home for the weekend. You didn't remember taking your clothes off, removing the remaining makeup with a tissue because you were too tired for your usual skin care routine. You didn't remember responsibly setting up your alarm and then falling into the soft mattress.

All you could remember before the exhaustion took over were his words that cut deeper than he thought, and deeper than you'd like to admit.

-----

You couldn't believe it.

As you walked out of the debrief, you could basically feel everybody's frustration crawling up your spine, mixing with your own. The team, all the mechanics and engineers, pit crew members and marketing, hundreds of people worked so hard the whole week. And for what?

It was already bad when both cars didn't finish the last Grand Prix in Silverstone. But for it to happen again? That was downright embarrassing. Not only did it bring exactly zero points in the Constructors' Championship, but the drivers were angry, disappointed. You could see that in the team, the motivation level decreased quickly. And honestly, you couldn't blame them.

Last year, Alpine was the fourth-best car on the grid. Best of the rest, as they'd call it. But this season, everything was going terribly. You honestly weren't far from crying.

To lighten up the mood, some of your colleagues decided to enjoy a night out in Budapest before you'd have to fly to Belgium tomorrow, to prepare for yet another racing weekend. At first, you declined the offer, insisting you needed to catch up on some work, do analysis for the car and figure out exactly what happened to it. But then, one of the mechanics you were friendlier with saw your drooping shoulders, and pulled you into the club despite all your weak protests.

Soon enough, you let loose and after an hour, you were a few drinks in. Your head was spinning, a big smile planted on your lips and giggles coming out of your mouth uncontrollably. Not that you had low alcohol tolerance, but the last time you got properly drunk was some time ago. Perhaps you just forgot how it felt. The freedom, the sweet mist of oblivion clouding your mind.

Currently, you were sitting at the bar, sipping on a cocktail. You already enjoyed your time on the dance floor, which tired you more than expected. Thank God you went to the club right from the paddock, so instead of high heels that'd kill your feet, you had comfortable sneakers on.

As you waved at the young barman to give you another round of whatever he mixed for you before, you felt someone's eyes on your back. You didn't bother to turn around, thinking it was just another drunken man checking out half of the women in the club.

Then, someone stood behind you. “The drink's on me, hermosa,” the man said, voice smooth like honey. You froze. You knew that deep, thick Spanish accent too well. What the hell was Alonso doing here?

He clearly mistook your silence for an impressed one, or so you thought when he came to sit down next to you, his hand gently brushing your back. That was the moment you turned your head towards him, eyes wide, and his face dropped. So did yours.

You hoped for a split second you could pretend you were total strangers randomly meeting in a bar for just a little longer when he instantly frowned and his demeanor changed from charming gentleman to pain in the ass.

“Y/L/N,” he uttered it in a way that made you wonder if there was something wrong with your last name. “Guess I shouldn't be surprised to see you here.”

And here it was — the instant wave of anger and hurt he managed to bring up by just a few poking words.

“Says the right person.” You rolled your eyes, the flowing feeling the alcohol gave you before now gone. You felt like you were going to be sick. “I bet if it wasn't me you tried to hit on, you'd bring the poor woman to your hotel room tonight.”

“Careful, or you might sound jealous.”

“Oh, you wish, Alonso,” you laughed humorlessly.

The bartender chose that moment to bring you the requested cocktail you already forgot about. You gave him the cash, though you had no intention of actually drinking it. As always, Alonso left a sour taste in your mouth.

“I see you're drinking the team problems away,” he pressed harder, knowing damn well it was a sensitive topic. You gritted your teeth, reminding yourself to be the better person.

Then you looked into his dark eyes, and your self-control was gone. For some reason, you couldn't stand the look he was giving you. It was full of something that was too similar to disappointment. You hated people being disappointed in you, even if you hated that very person.

Out of nowhere, the alcohol kicked in, and you remembered why you didn't drink in clubs too often — it made you emotional. So stupidly sensitive that you couldn't stop your eyes from tearing up. You shook your head, opened your mouth, wanting to tell him something. Anything that'd make him just as much hurt as you were.

Instead, you bit your trembling lip and abruptly stood up. You almost knocked over the bar stool, though at the moment, you didn't really care.

Was it cowardly to run away from him and his harsh words? Yes, you knew that. But you did it in the elevator, and so you could do it again.

In a rush, you got through other people enjoying their night out, oblivious to the lump forming in your throat. You needed to get out, breathe in the fresh air and just forget about everything.

It was probably nearing midnight, and even though it was late July, you still shivered when you stepped outside the club. Just then you remembered you left your jacket back in the paddock. And you also realized the mechanic and his group of friends drove you here, and you had no idea where you were or how to get to your hotel room.

“Great. Just fucking perfect,” you mumbled to yourself, a few tears running down your cheeks. You wiped them away, willing yourself to calm down. Budapest couldn't be too different from other European cities, so you'd just walk to the nearest public transport station and then see what you could do from there. Yes, that was exactly what you're going to do, and it's going to be okay.

Having a plan calmed you down, at least a little. You walked in a direction you hoped would get you to the center and took your phone out. The battery was low, and you cursed yourself for not charging it during the day.

“Where are you going?” You winced and nearly dropped the phone when you heard the loud voice calling after you.

When you turned around, you already knew exactly who was standing before the club entrance.

“That's not any of your business,” you tried to sound tough, but it came out tired and weak. So instead, you lifted your head, trying to save the remaining bits of your dignity.

Alonso tilted his head, brown eyes studying you for a moment before he made a step towards you. “Don't tell me you don't have anyone to take you back to your hotel?” The undertone of his voice was strange, and if you didn't know better, you'd think it was worry seeping out.

“Oh, then I won't tell you,” you fired back, satisfied with your own answer as you turned around and left him standing there.

You made it around the block when a strong hand suddenly grasped your hand, and you screamed, prepared to fight whoever attacked you.

“¡Ay dios mío!” Alonso cursed and held his red cheek, where there was a clear hand print now.

You stared at each other in shock. You wanted to kill him for scaring you to death, but at the same time, you were relieved it was just him and not a creepy kidnapper.

“I'd say I'm sorry… but I'm not,” you managed to mumble. A weak attempt, you knew that. But it still seemed to wake him from his trance and make him scoff at you in annoyance.

However, he didn't let go of your hand.

“Let's go,” Alonso urged you back towards the direction you came from.

“I'm not going anywhere with you.”

“Y/N, if you think I would let a drunk girl wander around a city she doesn't know, alone, at night… then you clearly don't know me at all.”

It took a few seconds for his words to hit you, and all there was left for you to do was to look up at him with surprise written all over your face. That seemed to annoy him for some reason, but with alcohol still very much present in your system, you didn't have the capacity to think about it too much.

“Let's go,” he repeated, though this time you didn't protest when he started walking towards what turned out to be his car. You knew it very well, from the years you used to work together, for the same team. Silently, you wondered how the hell did he get it to Hungary, but you soon forgot about that.

Fernando unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for you. Your mom would probably tell you to be more cautious about getting into the car of a man you didn't like and were sure he didn't like you as well. But hey, it's still better than being lost in a foreign city, right?

So you sat down, and before you could reach for the seatbelt, he took it and strapped you himself, mumbling something about safety hazards with drunk people. You were so surprised by that unexpected action you didn't even have time to feel offended.

You closed your eyes, the comfortable seat making you sleepy. You heard him get in the car as well and join the night traffic. For a moment, silence reigned and for the first time in a long time, it didn't feel horrible and tense.

“Isn't it illegal to drive with alcohol?” you whispered, eyes still closed.

“I didn't drink anything in the club. Too busy with you.”

Just then, you realized you actually asked the question out loud.

“Sorry for ruining your celebration night. Probably didn't want to leave it with me,” you laughed quietly. When he approached you in the club, he thought you were a random pretty woman with whom he could share a drink and take her to his bed for a fun night.

“Whatever.” You could hear him shrug his shoulders. “Sorry for ruining your night. Though you don't have much to celebrate.”

That made you open your eyes and gaze at him. He was looking straight ahead, concentrating on the road ahead. The lights of the other cars occasionally landed on his face, and you wondered if he was always so handsome, or it were the cocktails speaking for you.

“Wow, even in an apology there's a hidden insult,” you snickered, though there was a small grin on your lips now. Yes, definitely the alcohol speaking for you, you told yourself.

This time, Fernando actually looked at you before he averted his sight back to the traffic. “I wasn't insulting you, Y/N. I was insulting the team.”

You raised your eyebrows, but didn't comment on it. It was pointless to argue over this, he had his opinion about Alpine and given the fact both your cars didn't finish two races in a row, you didn't have exactly the best arguments to convince him otherwise. After all, he was part of the team last year. And the year before.

For the rest of your ride, there wasn't much more said between the both of you. You were tired — not just because of the night out and drinking, but from the whole week, from the whole season.

Finally, he parked the car before a building you recognized. You didn't ask him how he knew which hotel your team booked, perhaps he remembered it was the same one as the year before. Honestly, you were just glad he helped you get out of the car and walked you inside.

Then, you found yourself in an elevator alone with Fernando, again. Though unlike a month ago, he gently held your hand for support this time.

You told him your room number and somehow, he got you all the way in front of the door. You thanked all the saints in the world when you dug the keys out of your purse. After three unsuccessful tries at unlocking the room, Fernando's patience apparently ran out. He took the keys out of your hand and silently opened the lock.

“Thanks,” you muttered, and let him lead you inside your own hotel room.

When the light switch turned on and illuminated all the papers lying around, he looked at you, flabbergasted.

“What's all this?”

You shrug your shoulders and look at him like he was stupid. Which he was, at least in your humble opinion. “Work. What else?”

“Yes, yes. But why is it… here?” He motions towards the desk, nightstands, and bed.

“Because I don't have time to do it all in the office.”

“You work overtime?”

Now you were starting to get irritated.

“Yes, I work overtime. Maybe if you weren't so insistent in thinking I'm a dumb party girl ever since I made one stupid mistake in your car's analysis a year ago, you'd see I'm actually trying my best.” You hated how hurt you sounded, pathetic in your own ears.

But honestly, who was he to judge you? You never actually stood up to him before, defended yourself against his mean words. You always sucked it up, let him complain about you to your boss, who almost fired you because of the driver's obvious distaste for you. And when he left the team at the end of last year, you never tried to contact him, talk to him. Fix your non-existent relationship.

Today, though, you had enough. Maybe it was the alcohol giving you courage, maybe it was his shocked face when he realized you actually did your job.

“Y/N, I-”

“Get out,” you said in a tone that didn't allow for any objections. Fernando seemed to understand, but the pained expression didn't leave his face when he slowly walked to the door. Like he didn't really want to leave, like he desperately wanted to tell you something.

You didn't care about him. He never cared about you before as well, did he?

And so, with one last, regretful look in his dark eyes, Fernando Alonso left your hotel room. When tears ran down your cheeks, you weren't sure why you were even crying.

-----

You were avoiding him after that. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, but you managed and after surviving the Belgian Grand Prix in Spa, you were excited about the summer break as never before. Almost a whole month without races, which meant you wouldn't have to meet anyone from the other teams, including Fernando.

Usually, the team worked tirelessly through the summer break — it was a great chance to have a proper look into the car's engine and come up with new ideas and improvements. God knew you needed that. Typically, you were amongst those loyal employees, basically living in the Alpine headquarters.

However, this year you really wanted a break. So you used your vacation days and stayed in your flat, finally sleeping like a normal person for once, eating home-cooked meals instead of team catering and enjoying the summer, though the weather could be better in England.

It was the start of August when you started finding flower deliveries on the threshold of your door. First, you thought it's a mistake, though what woman would refuse a beautiful bouquet of her favorite flowers. When it happened a whole week in a row, you thought about having a secret admirer or, in the worse case scenario, a stalker. Though, you still took the flowers inside every morning, cherishing them.

And then, one day, there was an envelope attached to the bouquet, and you had to curse yourself for being so, so stupid. Of course it's him, Fernando. Begging you to talk to him, to let him explain. One dinner, he said. One dinner, and then he'll let you go on about your life.

When he tried to write a poem in the middle of August, you finally gave in. You found his old phone number saved amongst many other contacts and sent him a simple “okay”.

The next morning, there was a time and address of the restaurant in the envelope.

You didn't let yourself get too excited about any of it. It's Fernando Alonso, the man who almost caused you to get fired from your dream job, the one that was so mean to you after making wrong assumptions about you and your way of life. Yes, he was trying now, but was that enough?

When the taxi dropped you off in front of the fancy restaurant, you took a deep breath. You had a simple dress on, light makeup, and a few accessories.

You walked into the empty restaurant. The waitress smiled at you when you told her the name of the reservation and led you to the only set table. You could see the deep brown eyes looking directly at you from afar.

Suddenly, nervousness settled in your stomach. If you didn't know better, you'd think this was a date — it certainly felt like one.

Without a word, he helped you sit down on a chair across from him and the waitress handed you the menu. It was without prices, but you were certain this place was lavish and expensive. Perhaps Fernando didn't want you to worry about it and let you order anything you wanted. And you tried not to be too impressed by that.

“You look very beautiful, hermosa,” he spoke after a minute of tense silence while you pretended to be interested in the menu. You didn't miss the fact he used the same nickname like that night in the club, when he thought you were someone else.

“Compliments won't make it easier for you.” Maybe you lied, because you liked him calling you beautiful.

“I know, but I couldn't help myself.”

The waitress came back with a bottle of wine that Fernando must've ordered before you arrived. You took a sip and it tasted like heaven. It almost made you forget about everything, almost.

“Please, can we talk?” You never heard his voice sound so… unsure.

“Aren't we talking right now?”

“Y/N.” The way he said your name was so soft, so delicate.

“Fernando.” You saw him flinch, and you realized it was probably the first time you called him by his first name. Suddenly, the whole situation felt more intimate.

He gulped, but there was determination written all over his face. Fernando Alonso wasn't the type of man to give up, you knew that. His amazing racing career was proof of that.

“Listen to me, please. I know that you have the right to never speak to me again after how I treated you. But I want to fix it, Y/N.”

Those brown eyes were going to be the death of you, burying themselves into your soul, your heart.

“I want to fix all of it, Y/N,” he repeated with all seriousness. “If you let me,” Fernando added.

And how could you say no to him? Deep down, you always admired him. Liked him, even. Before that fuck up with his car's analysis, you thought he might like you back. You always wanted his approval, and that was one of the reasons why his words and insults hurt so much.

Sometimes, people deserved second chances. Especially when they were looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

Slowly, you nodded. “I think I might let you, Fernando.” You smiled, liking how his name felt on your tongue. “But it's not going to be easy, I'm telling you that,” you warned him with a raised finger.

“I wouldn't dream of anything less,” he replied with a thick Spanish accent that was stronger when he felt emotions. Fernando returned your smile and clinked his glass with yours.

-----

Brazil was a good race. Both Alpine cars ended up in points and Fernando, your Fernando, got another podium. You clapped along with others during the podium ceremony, eyes just for him. A proud feeling settled in you, and as he accepted his trophy for well deserved third place, he looked down at the gathered crowd. Mostly people from Aston Martin, McLaren, and Red Bull.

And then there was you — in your Alpine t-shirt, clapping for the driver who scandalously left your team last year, without a care in the world. That was when he knew he loved you, and that he'll always will.

You knew you loved him too when, after all the celebrating around the circuit died down or moved to clubs and private parties, instead of going to his hotel room, he knocked on the door of yours. Checking on you.

“Hermosa, I hope you're not working.” He rolled his eyes as he stepped in, seeing you indeed staring into your notebook at some data he probably shouldn't see as a part of a rival team.

“But Nando, I need to finish these-”

He cut you off the best way he could — hugging you from behind, gently turning your head towards him and placing his lips on yours. You instantly melted into the kiss, giving up the fight before it could even start.

“I think you need to properly celebrate your boyfriend winning,” he smirked, biting your lip teasingly. You felt like a teenage girl when the butterflies took off in your stomach.

Fernando slowly walked you to the bed, never parting your lips, as if his life depended on kissing you. You sat on his lap, your hips grinding against his as you moaned into his mouth.

And he couldn't help himself. He wanted to take you out on a magical date and tell you there, but how could he keep it a secret when you were sitting on him, so beautiful that his heart clenched. Smart and pretty girl. His smart and pretty girl.

“Te amo,” he whispered into your sweet lips, and your breath caught.

You pulled back a little, looking at him, silently asking if you heard him correctly.

“Te amo, Y/N,” he repeated. You knew enough Spanish for your eyes to tear up. “I love you very much.”

There was a heartbeat of silence, probably the longest one in your whole life.

“I love you too. So much,” you whispered back. And then, for him: “Te amo, Fernando.”

Now it was his turn to tear up, hold your face in his hands and press your foreheads together.

Perhaps the fate and its plans for you weren't so horrible after all.

THE END

Author's Note: Wow, if you read it all to the end, thank you very much! I'll be glad for likes, comments, reblogs, follows and every other way of support. Let me know how you liked this story and if you'd maybe like another oneshot from this "universe" because I have to admit, this version of Fernando and Y/N kind of grew on me... Have a great day and see you at the next post! :)

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dpr-stay · 9 months

Text

Shadow | FA14

Fernando Alonso x Wolff!Reader

Written and SMAU

Warnings: General Crack, Reader was pregnant at one point, reader is female, egregious ignoring of real world events.

WC: ~2.9k (she small)

Reader is just that girl in this one, sorry. Also how easy is it to tell i’m not 40 years old. Anyways, not edited and just written because i had the idea. When will i actually write romance and not just scenarios?

Being the sister of anyone related to any sport meant your face would be known within the community, whether you wanted it to or not. The number of people increased exponentially when the person you were related to was someone incredibly important within that community.

For example, your brother was Toto Wolff, a billionaire who was the Team Principal of a fairly well known F1 team. You might not have heard of them, Mercedes might ring a bell? This meant you were unwittingly paired with F1 wherever you went.

Whether it be a function for one of the many hospitals or health care clinics you’d set up or even one of the many charity gala’s you’d played a part in funding, you’d always be asked a question or two about formula one and whatever DRS is.

Honestly, you didn’t mind it at first, always laughing it off with grace and even playing into some rivalries at times, but as you got older and you achieved more things past having a rich brother, it began to get annoying. I mean, you weren’t even that far off his net worth, only around a billion, surely that was more interesting than what your favourite spice girls song was? (You answered ‘Spice up your life’)

So, sure, the fact that even the questions reporters shouted at you as you walked from your car to your front door was about your brothers doing’s instead of your own did piss you off a little. You were only human after all, and having your achievements ignored in favour of your brother’s continually grated at you.

However, you were loyal and never let that get the best of you. Even after performing a heart transplant, you could entertain some 24 year old journalism student about what you thought your brother's funniest moment was in order to maintain his brand.

That was a situation similar to the one you found yourself in right now. You’d walked out of the office at around 9 at night, the toll of the amount of paperwork that came with managing four medical practices and countless other endeavours taking it’s time to break you down.

You were on your phone, your do-not-disturb on as you scrolled through your contacts. The time-distance didn’t bother you, it was probably morning for whoever you were trying to call anyway.

The fact you hadn’t really been looking around, instead focused on the phone ringing in your hand, as you sludged from the elevator to your car that was parked the furthest possible distance from the elevator (surely as the CEO you could have a private park) didn’t work in your favour as a group of reporters jump-scared you by calling your name.

You jolted, whipping around and holding your keys in between your fingers, prepared to stab someone. But, at seeing the shocked and surprised faces of the journalists and the shine of the camera lenses they were pointing at you, you withdrew your hand, executing a perfectly practiced relieved sigh.

“Sorry, you scared me there.” You said laughing, gesturing in front of you with your phone, quickly hanging it up as the call was answered, a dumb ‘Hello?’ not having the chance to echo through the garage. The reporters thankfully brushed it off and started a spiel about ‘results’ and ‘engines’ and blah blah blah.

You tuned it out, hopefully maintaining a politefully interested face through the ordeal. It was nice that they hadn’t commented on the eye-bags you were harbouring or the smell of cat vomit that was emanating from your clothes after a poorly timed spew from your cat over your laundry this morning.

The curling lip and tightening nostrils of one of the camera men had you trying to resist smiling as the man holding the microphone kept going, though you quietly reprimanded yourself about not spraying more perfume as you left your office.

“Regardless of results, do you still think of Mercedes as your favourite F1 team?” The reporter finally asked, you snapping back from staring at the exposed wiring that lined the roof of the garage. A smile was plastered across your face as you responded.

“Of course! I’m big on family loyalty so yeah, Mercedes will always be my favourite team.” You said, pursing your lips and shrugging. The reporters exchanged glances and you minutely tilted your head at their reaction, curious. Were they not expecting that? The interviewer glanced at his colleagues before he turned to you again, microphone perched and ready to be used.

“Have you seen any news recently?” He asked as impartially as possible. You raised an eyebrow. Now, what did that mean? Had Toto said something mean about you? Did Mercedes collapse overnight?

You doubted either of those were the reasons, you’d have definitely heard of it. A quick glance at your apple watch revealed the opposite however, the over 1000+ missed notifications you had displayed as you fidgeted with the scroll wheel. Due to the display screen being small, you couldn’t see much but you saw a lot of driver’s names, ‘AHHHHH’s, and questions about Toto’s mental health. What on earth had happened while your cat had been retching on your business wear?

You decided to play it safe, teasing the reporters while not revealing if you had seen the news or not. A raised eyebrow and a hand bringing itself to your hip hopefully clued them in to your goading intentions as you answered.

“Is this news the reason you are trespassing on private property?” The whole crew somehow blanched as they took in the fact you were right. The garage was locked unless they had a security card but, as the creator of the company, you knew of the small chain link fence on the ground floor which could be pulled back and crawled under.

You patiently awaited their responses, glancing between all of their faces as they collectively tried to come up with a reply. The hive-mind didn’t succeed though, you eventually calling it after a few awkward seconds, sighing before giving them what they wanted.

“What’s the news?” You asked, almost begrudgingly watching as the interviewer’s eyes lit up. You recognised that look, the look of an intern realising they could finally be paid for their work, as you’d lived it many times.

“You are Fernando Alonso’s celebrity crush!” The reporter said, the collective watching you with baited breaths as you processed their words. Now, as an almost fourty year old woman with a successful business and job, you weren’t quite sure what reaction they wanted. Say, twenty years ago, you probably would’ve been able to put on a performance, fanning yourself as a dopey smile filled your face.

But you had more pressing things to worry about, such as if you’d get home before your daughter had to be put to bed. You were already pushing it, staying at the office so late, and you knew the disapproving glance the baby-sitter you’d hired would have once you got home would make you feel worse.

So you reacted the only way you could think of at that moment.

“Oh, yeah that. I already knew that.” You said dismissively, waving a hand as if to swat a fly from your face. The look on the group’s faces was pretty similar all around, confusion.

“So, you have seen the news?” The reporter asked hesitantly, slightly dropping their microphone and you shook your head, an deliberately incredulous look crossing your face.

“No…? Is that really the news that made you break into my company’s garage?” You asked, disbelief leaking into your voice as you looked all of them in the eye. The corners of your mouth raised slightly.

“So wait, you knew you were Fernando Alonso’s celebrity crush without seeing the interview?” The interviewer drew your attention back and you nodded along with their words.

“Yeah.” You said simply and then thought before adding, “Though I wouldn’t quite say I’m a celebrity.”

The group of reporters had unknowingly stumbled on a gold mine, something that your tired brain refused to accept and something they didn’t even know. You’d probably have to play it safe from here on out, careful not to reveal too much about how you knew that Fernando felt that way about you. Sorry, Fernando Alonso felt that way about you.

“Whaaa.. You’ve never said anything or done anything?” The reporter asked, leaning in closer, the microphone coming dangerously close to touching your lips. You looked down at it and drew back before starting to speak.

“Well, no. Just because I knew about it doesn’t mean I should do something about it. I said I’m loyal to Mercedes, I’m not breaking that.” You mumbled into the microphone as it edged closer and closer to your lips.

The looks of incredulity that were spread across the group that had accosted you nearly made you laugh, as though it was impossible that you’d known and not done anything.

In fairness to them, when you’d learned that Fernando had some sort of interest in you, say around 8 years ago, you had had a bit of a tiff, something you were a little embarrassed to admit, and then you’d promptly asked him out. He refused to accept that though, meeting you the next day and asking you out with more flair.

You’d already accepted before he’d gotten the words out and bam, all of a sudden you were wearing the reddest scrubs you could find when you were walking around the hospital instead of the black one’s you’d been wearing since Toto became team principal. It was an inconspicuous form of representing the man you’d grow to love, something which had come with a lot of warning and pleas to reconsider from Toto.

Life had continued, and after a very busy 2019, you had fallen pregnant, something which you had thought definitely wouldn’t have happened at your age. But life finds a way I suppose and there you were, a baby Alonso permanently attached to your hip.

2020 was a nice year, Fernando being able to be there to see the baby grow from a, for lack of better words, crying sack of flesh and into a crawling child something that you cherished. However, life continued and Fernando went back to racing while you eventually returned to the hospital and your philanthropy after a few years, returning back to take care of your baby after shifts.

That’s where you were at at the moment, having been living together for well past the amount of time your parents had ever though unmarried couples should be. The newly acquired ring on your finger had quietened their worries though it increased the groaning of Toto and the joy coming from Geri.

You were a bit confused, though, why Fernando had decided to bring you up in an interview. You’d thought that you both had decided to not talk about it if not asked, though the possibilities of being asked about it were almost slim-to-none.

To be fair, if he’d been blatantly asked who his celebrity crush was and he said someone else, you would have been a bit miffed when the inevitable message from that person rolled into his inbox.

But still, it was curious what a reporter was doing asking a fully-grown man what his celebrity crush was. Maybe it was a gossip article, or maybe it was something to do with Taylor Swift and trying to get him to admit to their secret relationship.

The reporter in front of you cleared their throat.

“If you haven’t seen the news then and you are loyal to Mercedes, you’ll probably be happy to know that Lewis Hamilton also said you were his celebrity crush!” The excitement in their voice was obviously staged as they read the pre-written line, as though they were put off that you weren’t more hyped, but all you could think was ‘there it was’.

You probably should’ve seen it coming, to be honest, Fernando not the guy to try and one-up. You couldn’t wait to go home and watch the video footage of the inevitable glare he’d thrown at Lewis before speaking threateningly, probably holding himself back from spilling about the family you’d both created.

That was probably why he’d waited a few seconds before picking up the call that you’d hurriedly hung up, preparing himself to face the brunt of your giggles for a few minutes before you calmed down.

However, you hadn’t been able to tease him about the thing you didn’t know about because of the reporters who were filming you, waiting for your reaction to the news Lewis Hamilton himself had a celeb-crush on you, as though that even meant anything and wasn’t a way to get on Fernando’s toes.

“Oh.” You said after a second. The crew deflated and an incredulous look showed itself on the interviewer’s face as she processed your word before quickly covering it up.

“You’re not a big Hamilton fan?” She asked, trying to extract something more from you. You shrugged.

“Don’t mind him.” You simply remarked before exaggeratedly yawning and checking your watch. You then made a dramatically shocked face and turned back to the cameras.

“Well I best get going!” A slight accent that you’d never used before sneaked into your words and you cleared your throat.

“I trust you guys know where the exit is.” You said, referring to the camera crew before turning around and making your way across the garage to where your car sat.

“Do you have anything to add?” The interviewer shouted across the cavern in an attempt to get something more from their visit and you turned as you walked, spinning around your keys.

The group looked a bit defeated, the glimmer in their eyes dulled as though they thought they would’ve gotten more lucky than what they had. You couldn’t but take pity on them, the thought of them putting in more work after this to try and get a good story playing on your heartstrings.

Anyways, Fernando had already done a little bit of the revealing of your relationship, what could a few more hints do?

“No, sorry!” You yelled back before pausing a second and continuing slyly. “I’m just gonna go home to my kid, hopefully you guys get home safe to your families.”

Really well done there, inserted completely naturally. You turned back around, hearing the gasps echoing from the group and the increase in chatter as you unlocked your car, hopped in, and booted it up.

You quickly called Fernando as you got in the car, him picking up instantly.

“What was that about?” He asked, the sound of his voice playing through your speakers making you smile as you relaxed back into the seat, watching the increasingly frantic movements of the young reporters.

“Sorry, I got ambushed.” You said as you pulled out of your parking spot and followed the lines till you reached the entrance, waving at the group before pulling out of the garage. There was little-to-no traffic as you drove through office blocks, before pulling onto the highway.

“Ambushed?” He asked worried and you replied, telling the story of what happened that had caused you to hang up on him. He responded and laughed where appropriate, a skill that he’d gained over years of talking to you.

When you’d finished he went quiet and you enjoyed the silence, one hand on the steering wheel as you pulled off the highway and into your quiet neighborhood.

“They know we have a child?” He asked and you nodded before responding.

“They know I have a child.” You affirmed and he sighed, pondering a second.

“They know it’s not with Lewis right?” You couldn’t help the giggle that spouted from your throat, you eventually having to pull over as the ridiculousness of the situation dawned over you.

You couldn’t see but on the other side of the world, Fernando was laying in his hotel bed, a smile on his face as he listened to you laugh. The story you’d told had been strange, though he supposed it was his fault, and he was glad you could see the humour in it instead of panicking. He thought for a second.

“Should we come clean?” He asked and you stopped laughing, silence coming from your side of the phone. He called your name, his smooth accent pronouncing it perfectly. You had both hands on the steering wheel, pulled over somewhere on your way home to your child, with your soon-to-be husband on the phone, debating whether or not you should reveal your relationship.

It had been long enough, you were plenty secure in your relationship, but you were worried about the impact it would have on your child. You didn’t want them to grow up in a world were they were stood in the shadow of their parents instead of being recognised for being themself, you’d lived a version of that and knew how frustrating it could get.

But it would be nice to be able to go to races and be with your fiance instead of your brother who could get incredibly annoying, incredibly fast. You finally nodded your head, the decision coming fast as you weighed the benefits and cons.

“Let’s do it.” You said finally and you could hear Fernando sigh in relief and mumble in agreeance.

The way that Toto’s name had popped up on your phone after you said that still haunted your dreams sometimes.

hope you liked this unedited mess

It’s past 12 I’m sorry

#fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula one x reader #f1 oneshot #formula one imagine #f1 imagine #alonso x reader #fernando alonso x y/n #f1 smau

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percervall · 2 months

Text

something good (in everything I see)

Driver: Fernando Alonso Words: 840 Warnings: Fluff, barely proof read

In which Uncle Nano can't help himself

From the moment Fernando saw the then 3-year-old with her little face squished against the glass as the three of them got ready to go karting, he knew that she had her dads’ love for adrenaline and speed. Jenson and Mark were tinkering away with the set ups of their go-karts, not aware of the little girl studying their every move, but he kept an eye on her, saw the cogs turning in that little head as she tried to understand what they were doing; as if it was a puzzle to her. It was there that Fernando made a promise that he would do whatever he could to feed that curiosity.

It would take another two years before Fernando could honour his promise. Agnes’ parents were of the mindset that just because she’s the daughter of three F1 drivers, it should be her choice to pursue anything motor sport related. Fernando could understand their hesitancy; the legacy was a heavy cross to bear, Fernando had seen it far too often during his time in F1. And then Agnes’ fifth birthday rolled around and with that a wish list. Among the LEGOs, PlayDough, and a car for her Barbies, was the sign Fernando had been waiting for: a go-kart like Oscar so I can race with him. And well, why have millions in the bank if not to spoil your best friend’s children? Fernando used his own connections to build Agnes her first go-kart, choosing all the little details and even making sure it had its very own racing number.

And so the big day arrived. Fernando was feeling a little nervous, worried he had overstepped somehow and made another promise: if Margot and Luke showed any interest, they, too, would get their first go-kart from their Uncle Nano. And if not, the money would go towards their education.

He parks the van just out of sight and grabs the tiny helmet he had commissioned in Agnes’ favourite colours. Of course he had included his own personal sponsor and a few touches that would make it clear whose daughter she is.

“Uncle Nano!” Agnes calls out when he enters the Magnussen-Hamilton-Webber home.

“Hello preciosa, happy birthday!” he replies, setting the gift bag down on the table.

“Glad you could make it, mate,” Mark says, pulling him in for a one-armed hug, still holding Luke.

“Will always come to see my godson and nieces,” Fernando says, ruffling the little boy’s hair. Picking up the bag, he crouches down in front of the birthday girl.

“I got you a present. Two actually.”

“Two presents?” Agnes asks, eyes round with curiosity. Fernando can’t help but smile as he nods. He hands her the bag and watches her tear open the wrapping paper.

“My own helmet! Mama look!”

“I see baby! All your favourite colours too!” Agnes’ mother replies, her tone light but he can feel her eyes burning a hole in the back of his skull.

“The other present is outside, wanna go see?” Fernando asks the girl, pointedly ignoring the stares from his best friend’s wife. Agnes eagerly nods her head and takes his hand.

“What did you do?” Mark asks him as they all follow him outside.

“I bought her a birthday present,” comes his reply, but the twinkle in Fernando’s eyes tells Mark all he needs to know.

“Now, this was a bit difficult to wrap, preciosa,” Fernando says, clicking a button on his car keys and opening the doors on the back, “Oscar, a little help?” The younger driver nods and climbs in after him. “Close your eyes Agnes!” he calls out before he and Oscar carry the gift out of the van.

“Oh you silly old man,” he hears Agnes’ mother whisper while Jenson laughs.

“Okay, pequeña, you can open them.” He watches as Agnes pulls her tiny hands down and sees the biggest smile light up her face.

“My own go-kart! And it’s orange like Oscar’s car!” Kevin, who had been carrying her up until then, walks closer and crouches down with her, pointing out all the different parts.

“Oh my god, he’s even gotten her a racing number,” Jenson says, switching Margot to his other hip.

“Yes,” Fernando says, suddenly feeling a little silly for being so sentimental, “I chose 66 because-..”

“It’s all our numbers combined,” Lewis says, “44, 20 and 2. It’s all three of us represented.” Fernando nods, for once not sure what to say.

“Mate, this must have-..” Mark starts but Fernando waves the concerns away.

“I have more money than sense, or whatever it is you say. If Margot or Luke ever show interest in racing, they will get one too. That little girl has the racing bug and I want to help her, and her siblings, achieve their dreams however I can,” Fernando says, looking over at Agnes, Kevin and Oscar who are still admiring the go-kart.

“Thank you,” Agnes’ mother says, and Fernando can tell she means it from the bottom of her heart as she hugs him tight.

Inspired by a prompt sent in by @curiousthyme as part of this. If there's a fic you'd wish I'd write, please send it in!

I don't think I will ever be able to stop writing for these characters.

Please feel free to let me know what you think!

Mamma Mia fic masterlist

#f1 fanfic #f1 oneshot #f1 drabble #fernando alonso fluff #fernando alonso drabble #fernando alonso fanfic #kevin magnussen x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #mark webber x reader #mamma mia fic

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juleswrites223 · 1 month

Text

Two of hearts

Season 1: Episode 2

Context: Fernando comes back from his daily routine of killing zombies near the safehouse and you suspect he's not saying the whole truth. You get closer to Carlos as something more then friends while poor Charles becomes a third wheel.

1 k

F1 apocalypse masterlist

"Okay first off, shooting a handgun with precision requires three things: balance, technique, and practice." Carlos says holding a revolver in his right hand.

You are playing with Jośe, Fernando's dog, in the backyard where Carlos is teaching Charles how to shoot a gun, a handgun to be precise. Charles, eyes full of determination, listens to words spilling out of Carlos' mouth with full concentration.

Fernando has a routine. In every two days he goes out on his motorcycle, he scans the area around safehouse and kills whatever zombie is within 2 km of the safehouse. Every day, he goes up to the terrace of the house, a huge telescope is placed so Fernando can see anyone, living or dead, in the surrounding area. He is usually up there half the time, only coming down to either eat or let some steam off which means attacking the practice dummy, he says its for practice.

After a while, Fernando comes back covered in blood, this time more than usual which concerns you a lot. Charles' training session with Carlos comes to an end as Fernando approaches.

"More zombies than usual?" You ask carefully looking for any bite marks on him or any sign that a zombie got to him, but you're not that worried because you know Fernando is too much of a pro.

"Sí, parece que se están aburriendo de la ciudad. (yeah, feels like they are getting bored of the city)." Fernando grunts as he takes off his leather jacket and puts his rifle aside.

"¿Deberíamos preocuparnos? (Should we be worried?)" Carlos says as he walks closer to where you and Fernando are standing. Fernando mutters "no" and walks inside the house, on his way to shower.

Charles also comes closer where you and Carlos are standing alone, trying to discern what you both are looking at. You and Carlos are still staring at the road afar, both of you share a look that means, Fernando is not saying the full truth.

"I am gonna work on dinner now. Get inside, the sun is setting." Carlos says finally breaking the trance.

"Charles, come with me. We need to shut off all the windows and draws the curtains." You sighed as you all walked towards the house.

“So are you worried?” Charles asks you tentatively.

“A bit. I fear Fernando is not telling us the whole truth.” You reply.

As dinner time finishes with very little talk, you all head back to your assigned rooms. Night approaches rapidly and you are tossing and turning, unable to sleep. You decide to head to the living room, there is a television set there, last you checked it has a few dvds on the cabinet next to it.

As you’re watching some 50s show with the volume kept as low as possible, a hand comes to grip your shoulder.

You shriek as you turn around and notice it’s Carlos.

“God you scared me, what are you doing up?” You exhale a sigh as Carlos comes to sit beside you.

“I should be asking that to you no?” He whispers.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Ah”

As you both sit there, you turn and ask him,

“Do you ever think that you’d be better off dead?”

“Sometimes… but I realise my family may be alive so I have to keep hope and keeping living I guess.” He replies. “Plus who would keep you alive if I die huh?” He adds as he lightly bonks your head.

“Hey!” You say offendedly as he only shrugs, his lips breaking out in a soft smile.

“Sometimes, I wish I’d have killed myself ages ago, before this nightmare took place.” You say grimly. Carlos raises his eyes at your words. As long as he’s known you, you’ve always kept a positive, happy go to attitude so hearing this definitely shocks and upsets him at the same time.

“Don’t say that.” He brings you in for a hug and kisses your forehead. “I’m here, and I promise to protect you.”

The next morning came and you arose to find yourself in Carlos' arms, in his bed. As you went to get up, his arms wrapped around your waist pull you back toward his chest.

"I don't get a good morning?" Carlos whispers, his voice raspy.

"Good morning, mind telling me how I ended up in your room?" You ask sweetly.

"You fell asleep and I got you here. Simple as that." He shrugs.

You hesitate a moment before asking him a question that has been lingering in your mind since yesterday.

"Do you think Fernando is hiding something from us?" You ask as he sits up straighter and raises an eyebrow. "Ever since he came back yesterday, I feel it in my gut that he's not telling us the whole truth."

He thinks a bit, you can see the gears in his head turning then he responds, "Look, if Fernando isn't telling us something, it's either to protect us or he thinks it's not important." But his response doesn't seem convincing, not to you and it looks like he himself doesn't believe his words.

"You don't get it, I have a bad feeling about what he said. It's like he didn't exactly lie, he told the half truth which worries me." You reply.

Before Carlos can reply, the door opens followed by Charles who was focusing on the remote in his hands, "Hey do you know how to-" He looks up and sees you and Carlos in his bed, "Uh I didn't realise you both were together." Charles yelps quickly as averts his gaze from you guys.

"It's okay Charles, here I'll help you with the television." You get up yet you're looking at Carlos, your eyes say, this conversation isn't over.

As you fix the TV up for Charles, you realise you haven't see Fernando all morning, you go to check his room but you don't find him there, Hm must've gone hunting, you think to yourself. You know you need to confront him, sooner rather than later. You just hope that Fernando tells you the full truth this time.

Taglist: @thefuckwasmyname @sam-f1 @authentiqsunsets

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norrisleclercf1 · 4 months

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Continuing off of my earlier request about Mark and Fernando becoming dads, what about Mark and you being at the Spanish grand prix to support your other love, Nando, and it’s your baby’s first time being there and Fernando wanting to show them off to anyone who will let him 😭

A/N: Ugh ahhhhhh, you know how much I love this request already

Covering your mouth you try hard and fail not to snort out laughter. Mark pays you no mind as he straps little baby Diego to his chest. It was the only way your little boy wouldn't be screaming his head off crying the entire time.

Carrying for 9 months and he pops out being the world's biggest Daddy and Papa boy ever. "You look really hot right now," Mark jumps as Fernando walks past, slapping his ass, as he's dressed for Quali. Mark chuckles and fixes his hair as he slightly blushes and looks up at you.

"Does this finally make me a DILF?" He jokes, knowing about the fans running gag, calling the older drivers the DILFs of F1. "Absolutely panty dropping." You tease, fixing Diego's little hat to protect him from the Spanish sun.

"Come on, we have to be early." Fernando smiles, fixing his Aston Martin hat. You move, now fixing his hat and putting those curls behind his ears. "Never cut your hair." Fernando chuckles and kisses the end of your nose.

"I promise." Mark snorts, gathering the rest of the baby stuff and packing the diaper bag. "Let's go,"

----------------------------

Walking into the Paddock, Diego was long gone from the carrier and now lied peacefully on Fernando's chest. At a year old, Diego was rather calm and loved watching the world. Rarely was he crying, unless he wasn't being held by one of his fathers.

You and Mark kept back as Fernando walked around, showing off the boy and explaining everything to him. Diego eyes wandered over everything, and Mark couldn't help but take pictures of the two of them.

Lance walks past you with a soft nod as he wanders past Fernando. "Oi," You gasp seeing Lance being yanked back but you soon laugh as you see Fernando's hand on the back of his collar. "Not, going to say hello." Fernando grumbles patting little Diego's back.

Lance blinks as he takes in the sight before him and tries to cover up his smile. Fernando keeps nagging Lance, but the Canadian just takes in the little boy that clearly has his Papa's hair and Daddy's eyes.

"Nando, I'm not able to take you seriously with you holding the baby." Lance cracks, sticking his finger out as Deigo gently grabs it before letting it go. Lance makes some funny faces as little Diego giggles and then snuggles closer to his Papa.

"Eh, get lost." Fernando jokes, gently kicking the back of his teammates knee. Lance laughs and runs back over kissing your cheek and waves off Mark as he heads off to his garage.

Fernando walks around, showing Diego off to anyone who'd pay attention. Talking to Toto, Diego's head raises and he soon let's out a piercing scream that has everyone on high alert. Lewis walks into view and you settle down, seeing why your son was so excited.

"Hi, baby." Lewis giggles and runs over happily taking Diego from Fernando who just glares at the Mercedes driver. "He gets so damn happy when he sees Lewis." Mark laughs, as Toto shakes his head and Mark checks his watch. "Shit, I've got to go. Love you," He kisses both you and Fernando before moving to kiss Diego's cheeks.

Normally he'd start to get fussy noticing that Mark was leaving but your son was so in love with Lewis you and Fernando both could leave, and he wouldn't notice it. Fernando moves away and pulls you into his arms.

"I'm glad you are here." Fernando whispers, kissing your cheek as you watch Lewis gently place Diego in his seat and laugh while Fernando makes an unpleasant noise. "Oi, get my boy out of there!" Fernando runs off and you giggle, glad to have been here today.

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the-offside-rule · 3 months

Text

Fernando Alonso (McLaren) - Envious

Requested: yes, tumblr via dm

Prompt: Can I please make a request where Fernando is in McLaren. He just won the championship twice and he is seen to be incredibly cocky. Y/n, a TV interviewer does not like this but she does seem fond of Leiws and he gets maddddd. He decides to change for her and please make the ending cute <3 (ITS GONNA BE A TWO PART)

Warnings: cocky Fernando, jealous Fernando

Envious: part 2

Y/n tightened her grip on the microphone, trying to maintain her composure during the interview with the Fernando Alonso. His cocky demeanor had been evident from the beginning, but it seemed to intensify as the questions progressed. They had met back during Fernando's first season in F1 as she was lucky enough to grab an internship. While he at first seemed lovely and polite, his true colours had come when Y/n returned to the paddock the season after Fenrnado won his first championship. He had completely changed. "Do you think you could win the championship a third time, or do you think you've moved past your prime?" Y/n asked, before moving the microphone towards Fernando for him to answer her question.

Fernando flashed a smirk at his interviewer. "Well, you see, I'm just that good, I don't think my prime has even come yet." Y/n clenched her jaw at the first part of his answer. "Of course I think I can win it this year." Y/n rolled her eyes, masking her irritation as best as she could. "Well you have won it twice in an immensely talented grid, I believe you could." Fernando smirked. "Well it's so lovely you agree with me. It seems fairly rare nowadays." He winked. "Thank you for the interview, Fernando. Good luck." She quickly said, her relief palpable. Fernabdo blew her kiss, annoying her as ever. "That's all the media for you today, Fernando. You can-" Fernando stopped listening to his media manager once he heard the unfamiliar sound of Y/n laughing. His head snapped around quickly, only to see his new teammate smiling and laughing with Y/n. She never smiled when she was interviewing him, what made Lewis so special? Their animated conversation and laughter stoked a pang of jealousy in Fernando.

Later on in the evening, Fernando sat in the McLaren hospitality, eating his dinner when he looked out the window to see Lewis and Y/n walking together once again laughing. Lewis stood at the door whilst Y/n simply spoke to him. Fernando looked around to see if there was a camera just on the off-chance that this was for a TV bit, but not a camera was jn sight. Fernando nudged his personal trainer, gaining his attention. "What's the deal with Y/n and Hamilton?" He asked, an edge to his voice. His trainer looked out before responding. "Ive heard they've been going on dates for a few months now. Seems like she's quite taken with him."

Fernando's jaw tightened. "I think so too." Fernando mumbled. His trainer arched a brow at the spaniard. "What?" Fernando shrugged. "Don't tell me you're jealous." Fernando scoffed. "Of course not. It's just-" He paused and nodded towards Lewis. "Him? I'd say she could do better." He laughed, eating a fork full of food. "Whatever puts your mind at ease, Nando." Fernando looked back over to the pair at the door and watched as they hugged. He slapped his fork down on the table and stood up. "Im going to the garage." Fernando announced, marching towards the door. The doors slid open and the cameras began flashing with the sudden departure of Fernando. Y/n didn't even look at him and that only irked him more. He walked straight into his side of the garage and lay against the back wall, looking out onto the pit-lane.

How was he this jealous of Lewis? He was a rookie. And besides, it wasn't like he actually had feelings for Y/n. She was just a journalist. He thought to himself for a moment and closed his eyes in defeat, cursing under his breath. He did like her. Now what?

#f1 blurb #f1 imagine #fernando alonso #f1 oneshot #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso x oc #fernando alonso x y/n #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso imagines #fernando alonso blurb #fernando alonso oneshot

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heliads · 5 months

Note

Your other Strollonso fic was AWESOME so can I request a Strollonso mafia!AU maybe? Like maybe it’s an arranged marriage so mob boss Nando can keep his alliance with Larry Stroll and they’re super awkward around each other at first but get closer and then Lance gets kidnapped and hurt by a rival and Nando just flips his shit and tears apart the city to find him and they have a really nice lil kiss once Lance is safe and ok? Thanks so much 💕💕

'not just one of your many toys' - fernando x lance

masterlist

It is Fernando Alonso’s own wedding day, and he’s already half an hour late. It’s not a good look, certainly, but no one in their right minds would ever say that the head of the Spanish mob has ever been good, so, according to Fernando, this just fits right in with the rest of his grim reputation. It’s all about appearances, isn’t it?

Today, though, it’s not beyond Fernando to admit that he should have done better. Today matters. Fernando is not stupid enough to have actually fallen in love with someone, so he doesn’t have to worry about disappointing a heartsick fiancée. Besides, if he wanted someone like that, he would have managed to twist his way inside their mind enough that they would forgive him for this tardiness the second he asked.

No, today isn’t a matter of love. Rumor has it that the Spanish mob had their hearts cut out in an expensive procedure when they turned eighteen, and although that’s an obvious fabrication since they’re all still bleeding rich red, it’s true enough by emotional standards. If you love, you die. Fernando Alonso does not accept weakness. If he ever fell in love, he would kill the object of his desires first so they could never drag him down again.

This, then, is yet another business transaction. Fernando has been courting the Stroll family for years now, eyeing their billions ever since they made their first killing, but now, he’s finally managed to force his way in. A young man is waiting on an altar somewhere across the city; Lawrence Stroll’s only son, Lance. Fernando and Lawrence cut this deal a month ago, and it took far too many pulled strings for Fernando to fuck it up like this now. If he were smart, he would have been there early.

Instead, his knife is halfway inside another man’s chest cavity, and Fernando is no closer to wrapping this up than he had been fifteen minutes ago when he realized he was late in the first place. He can’t afford to rush this, though. Traitors never flourish in the mob, least of all with Fernando’s men. Fernando has a reputation to uphold, his marital status be damned. If he doesn’t make this guy a prime example of what happens when you cross Fernando Alonso, his whole business will be riddled with holes until it all comes crashing down.

Still, Fernando can’t afford to piss off the Strolls more than he has already. Jerking his knife out of a partially deflated lung with a hiss of annoyance, Fernando turns to his second in command, Carlos Sainz. The younger, that is. The father is somewhere getting rich off of his son’s bloodlust, as all dutiful parents should be. “You’ll have to carry on with the rest. I was needed thirty minutes ago.”

Carlos swears under his breath. “Shit, I forgot about the wedding. I can make Alguersuari take over if you want me there. It can’t hurt to have backup, I don’t trust the fucking Canadians not to pull some shit.”

Fernando shakes his head. “Stay, I need a guarantee this is handled properly. Besides, I’ll have others there. This isn’t the day that I die.”

Carlos doesn’t look convinced. “You’re going into their stronghold. All of their guys will be there.”

Fernando chuckles. “It’s not a death trap, Carlos, it’s a church. Even Lawrence isn’t bloodthirsty enough to off me en una iglesia.”

Carlos makes a snorting sound that lets Fernando know just what he thinks of that, but one sharp look from Fernando silences the last of his objections. Carlos is a good kid, and Fernando trusts him the most out of anyone here, but in the end, it’s Fernando’s show, and he’s got to make sure none of his men are bashing his soon-to-be husband’s father any more than absolutely necessary.

Fernando cleans off his hands with a rag, grimacing at the spots of purple and green already starting to flower over his knuckles. Bruises on his hands don’t exactly add to the wedding atmosphere, but everyone there already knows what he’s capable of, so this should be no surprise. He exits the building and directs his driver to the church. They get there as fast as they can, but, judging by the stony expression on Lawrence Stroll when Fernando arrives at last, it wasn’t fast enough. He’s only thirty-five minutes late, though. By all accounts, it’s not even that bad.

Lawrence takes him by the arm, leading him casually yet forcefully to one of the small rooms in the back of the church used for the wedding party to prepare themselves before the big event.

“Where have you been?” Lawrence glowers the second the door closes.

“Traffic,” Fernando muses. “It’s terrible in these parts.”

Lawrence arches a silver brow. “You have blood on your cuffs.”

Fernando glances down at his sleeves and fights a wince. It’s only a few drops, but the copper stains still manage to stand out against the fine material. “Really bad traffic. Tourists should have their licenses revoked if they go more than ten below the limit.”

Lawrence doesn’t seem to be in the mood for jokes, which is good, because neither is Fernando. None of them like this deal, but they have no better options, so here they are. “Do not forget what rests upon this agreement,” Lawrence intones. “This is not some pretty spring wedding. I must admit, I was relieved when I signed my son over to you because I thought you of all people would understand everything that depends on this. And then you showed up late.”

Fernando tilts his head to the side slightly. “I know exactly what this means. I signed the contract. Let me be the first to assure you that I have no second thoughts. I was merely handling business.”

The air in the prep room is damn near icy. Lawrence is good at the scary act, but Fernando has been inspiring fear in the hearts of better mob men for decades now, and he isn’t the type to back down. Fernando may have coveted the Stroll money, but Lawrence wanted something too, or he never would have agreed to this in the first place. Fernando has had a long and bloody climb to the top of the Spanish mob, and Lawrence wants the notoriety and security of being forever associated with that kind of success. What tie could be better than a marriage? Lawrence had already married off his daughter to a lesser gun of the Bulls, but, well, there was always the other heir.

The legalization of gay marriage did a lot for mob patriarchs. One piece of paper, one actual legal thing about their whole enterprise, could genuinely complete an union between two families. Now, when searching for tenuous threads on which to conduct alliances, wealthy fathers with bloody hands wouldn’t just have to pray for daughters, they could also marry off their useless sons.

Fernando knows for a fact that there’s been talk of Charles Leclerc from the Chevaux Rouges getting married off to one of the other dime-a-dozen Frenchmen. Pierre Gasly’s father has been pushing that agenda since both young men were boys, but Fernando also knows the way that one of his own best men, Carlos, has been eyeing the Monegasque, so maybe the deal wasn’t yet set in stone after all. Fernando should get after Carlos for that. Pretty boys aren’t worth toppling alliances. He’ll get himself in trouble faster than a sports car can accelerate.

After all, this was supposed to be about politics, not actual affection. Fernando is the perfect example of this. He could count the times he’s seen Lance Stroll on one hand. The boy lingers in the back of his father’s meetings, pulling exaggerated faces when he’s certain nobody can see him, but Fernando isn’t even sure he’s actually talked to him more than forced interactions conducted in an effort to make it seem like Fernando is a team player. Then again, he doesn’t actually have to enjoy Lance’s company. He just needs his hand in marriage.

One of Lawrence’s men hurries into the room, holding his phone aloft. “A body was just discovered across town. Strung up by the church spire.”

Lawrence eyes Fernando coolly. “Traffic?”

Fernando just sinks his teeth into a matching icy grin. “Traffic,” he agrees.

Lawrence reaches forward, taking hold of Fernando’s hands like he’s praying the rosary. “Do not put any further stains upon my family,” he intones. “Waste the money I give you, fine. Kill your enemies on my own dime. But do not misuse my son. And do not keep him waiting any longer.”

Lawrence squeezes abruptly, causing the rapidly forming bruises on Fernando’s knuckles to twinge with fresh pain, then pulls away. Fernando follows him into the sanctuary of the church. Men in varying shades of black suits watch him like hawks from both sides of the aisle, women most of them probably don’t know lingering on their arms. At the front, Lance’s best man eyes Fernando with particular hatred, but Esteban Ocon has despised Fernando ever since a certain deal went south last year, so Fernando doesn’t pay him much attention. It’s very easy to ignore the Frenchman, which makes Esteban even more irate.

Fernando studies his fiancé. He’s not even certain that Lance was in the room when Lawrence and Fernando agreed on the marriage union, but it’s not like it would have mattered anyway. Lawrence makes the decisions for the Strolls. In a way, Fernando feels like he’s been courting the Stroll patriarch more than his son, but it’s all in the interest of a pawn to move around. Both Lawrence and Fernando can agree on that, apparently.

Lance considers Fernando with vague interest, eyeing him up and down with a lifted brow. He’s not bad to look at, all things considered. He supposes it could have been worse; for a while, that Russian upstart, Mazepin, was thought to be someone to coerce into a marriage, but then his family was revealed to be a bunch of rats and were subsequently driven out of the business. Fernando feels he dodged a bullet there.

The ceremony is conducted without much difficulty. Lawrence insisted on an extravagant reception so they can at least pretend this is a wedding and not just a job reassignment, and Fernando has been dreading this part all day. Carlos turns up an hour into the reception, matching bruises dotting his knuckles. Fernando tells him to enjoy himself as a reward for his good work, but not to have too much fun. Drunkenness and debauchery on a night like this would condemn Fernando even more than showing up late to his own wedding.

Fernando completes circuit after circuit of the event hall, shaking hands with Stroll associates and hearing congratulations from his associates. Many mob men are here as a sign of respect; Esteban brought Pierre as well, so the French are adequately represented, plus young Mick from the Germans.

Nico Rosberg usually turns up to these sorts of things, so Fernando is sort of surprised that he didn’t show, but then he notices Lewis Hamilton talking with his fellow Silver Arrow George Russell by the bar and the pieces click together again. Now that had been a split to remember. Lewis and Nico had run things together since they were kids, but when Lewis switched sides overnight, Nico had been left without a right hand man when he was about to consider a major deal. It was a stab in the back from the one person Rosberg had thought was his most loyal ally. All of the informants had been simmering for ages afterwards. Talk about a scandal.

After greeting both Arrows, Fernando has to steer Carlos away from the Chevaux Rouges again– he’ll have to have a conversation with the younger man about that later, it does no good to make it so easy to tell what you want– and spoken to Charles Leclerc once he was alone again. Lawrence Stroll has been satisfied by the turnout, so he’s actually in a good mood when he and Fernando talk lightly about business later on.

By the end of the reception, Fernando has managed to have a conversation with everyone but his new husband. When the lights are turned off at the end, they’re both in the same car heading to Fernando’s mansion, but Fernando has to take another half dozen quick calls from regretful allies who were otherwise occupied tonight, so they don’t say a word until they arrive at the door.

Fernando lets them in, muttering something under his breath about needing to get Lance a set of keys. He gives Lance a rough tour of the estate, essentially just enough to know where to sleep, work, and take meals, but when he’s done talking, Lance still stands there expectantly in front of the door to Fernando’s office.

At first, Fernando hardly even notices that he remains. He would have assumed the younger man would want to go to bed. It’s late, and although Fernando still has plenty of work to be done, Lance is likely used to a life of comfort, so he’d want to catch up on sleep. It isn’t until he starts grabbing files from a cabinet at the far side of the room that Lance coughs pointedly.

Fernando glances up as he stacks papers on his desk. Now that he’s got access to Lance’s funds, he’ll need to go over potential expenditures for the coming months. There are a couple of business ventures he’s been waiting to accelerate until this windfall, but now he can race towards whatever he pleases. So long as it turns a good profit, of course.

“Do you need something? There should be servants down the hall if you require anything.” He says, glancing back down at the files in his hands.

Lance shakes his head. “No, I was waiting for you.”

Fernando frowns. “Whatever for?”

It’s strange to see someone so high up in the mob who still hasn’t yet learned the value of a good poker face. Fernando can actually see the incredulity appear in Lance’s eyes and spread to his dropped-jaw stare. “It’s our wedding night, Fernando.”

“I am aware,” Fernando says. “I was there at the wedding.”

Lance scoffs. “Yes, but– come on, man, do I have to say it?”

Fernando looks Lance dead in the eyes for what might be the first night all evening. “You don’t have to say anything, Lance. I’m not oblivious, even if you seem to be. This is not a normal marriage. We are wed in name and fortune but nothing else. If your bed is cold, turn up the heat or imagine someone else is there. I have work to do.”

Lance’s brow furrows with indignation, but when he speaks again, his words are tight and controlled. So he can manage his anger, at least. That’s a start. “I see. Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight,” Fernando says, just barely managing to keep his mouth from twitching into a disbelieving smile when he says it. Are they children? Should he offer Lance a nightlight? Wishing him goodnight. Please. Fernando is a professional killer. They do not tell each other soft goodbyes when they wipe out entire bloodlines.

Fernando has no idea what his husband ends up doing, but he stays up late to sift through more ledgers. The second his mind begins to cloud from exhaustion, he goes straight to bed, and wakes respectably early into the morning. He works out with the same base routine he’s used since he first entered the business, of course adding a few repetitions or new drills here and there where he can sense the weakness in his muscles.

By the time he’s showered, dressed, and entered the kitchen for some coffee and breakfast, Lance has just begun to stumble downstairs, hair flattened by his pillow and half sticking up. He’s still in his pajamas, which consist of sweats and a shirt for some tennis player Fernando doesn’t recognize.

Fernando arches a brow at him. “Sleep well?”

“Wonderfully,” Lance grumbles, the syllables turning into a yawn halfway through.

Again, Fernando feels the need to swallow a laugh. He doesn’t think anyone’s spoken to him without an undercurrent of fear in a very long time, yet here Lance Stroll is, oversleeping and walking around his mansion in leisure wear. Technically, it is Lance’s mansion as well now, but still. Fernando doesn’t even think his sister dared to wear anything other than business casual when she visited.

Fernando does need Lance to feel valued, though. The last thing he needs is Lance complaining to his father that Fernando keeps judging him or something, then this whole thing could go up in flames. Fernando can be a dutiful husband even if it kills him.

“Would you like something to eat?” Fernando asks politely. “We have fruit, eggs, anything. Our chef can make it.”

“A bagel, maybe?” Lance says, yawning again.

Fernando nods. “I’ll ask the chef to prepare some.”

Although Fernando does his best to keep his true emotions in check, Lance, apparently, is beyond the same need to not laugh at his spouse. “Dude, it’s a bagel. One ingredient. Surely you don’t need the chef.”

Fernando scowls. “I just wanted to ask him what types we had in stock. I am aware that bagels are a simple food to serve.”

Lance chuckles again. “You’re telling me the head of the Spanish mob knows every one of his enemies but not every one of his bagels? Terrible priorities, man.”

Fernando is starting to realize that marriage might be difficult. See, if Lance could just be properly nervous around him like every other son of a mob boss Fernando has met, they wouldn’t have to have this terrible interaction, but no, Lance seems immune to everything. Delightful.

He extends a hand towards the extensive pantry. “Feel free to check by yourself. I’m sure it’s incredibly important for the sons of mob bosses to be able to verify their own information. Even on bagels.”

Lance grins sarcastically. “Technically, I’m not just the son of a mob boss, but the husband of one, too. If you’re going to mock me like everyone else, at least do it well.”

Fernando frowns. “I’m not trying to mock you.”

Lance spares a disbelieving glance towards Fernando, then turns back to his search for breakfast. “Really? Is that why this is the longest you’ve ever spoken to me since you realized you could get my dad’s money by marriage?”

Fernando can’t entirely argue with that, so he doesn’t. “You don’t have to hate me, Lance.”

“Oh, I don’t,” Lance says cheerfully. “I’m just pointing out the obvious. Seeing as we’re going to be stuck together for the foreseeable future, I would advise you to do the same. And in case you were curious, you have both plain bagels and cinnamon raisin.”

With that, Lance breezes back out of the kitchen, carbohydrate prize secured. Seconds later, Carlos files into the kitchen, glancing curiously back in the direction Lance had gone. “Sorry to bother you, I just had the information on Verstappen that you wanted. What the hell happened there? And since when have you had bagels in the house?”

“No idea,” Fernando says tiredly. It answers both questions well enough.

Lance Stroll proves himself to be more and more of an enigma as the days go by. He joins Fernando for meals only when Fernando asks, but then he seems disappointed that they don’t do anything else together. He zones out when Fernando talks business, then always gets annoyed when Fernando so much as alludes to the conditions leading to their marriage. Fernando can’t decide if Lance is actually happy with the arrangement– or, as Fernando is beginning to suspect, if he had any say in the matter at all. Strange for the heir to the Stroll legacy to have grown up with so little sway over his father’s business. It is as if Lawrence expected to live forever, so he never bothered teaching Lance the ropes.

Fernando tries to make it work. A little. Not enough. He’s busy, that’s all, he doesn’t have time to babysit a husband who seems compelled to fuck with him on each and every turn. It’s like Lance gets joy from being a nuisance. And yeah, sometimes when Lance’s attitude is directed towards Carlos or anyone who isn’t Fernando, it is pretty funny, but Fernando has not made a career of getting laughed at and he doesn’t intend to start now.

Once, Lance insists that his room is far too cold to be slept in, so he’ll just have to sleep in Fernando’s room instead. Fernando personally walks into Lance’s room to check it out himself, but it’s actually freezing in there despite adjusting the thermostat, and Lance refuses any other solution, so they spend a silent night on polar opposite sides of Fernando’s bed. The next day, Fernando is informed by the staff that a wrench was discovered in the heater that led to Lance’s room, jammed perfectly so that the temperature could not be changed. Neither of them mention it again, and Lance goes back to sleeping in his own room.

Carlos asked him once why he puts up with it– Lance’s teasing, his sarcasm, everything– but it’s not like he has any choice. If Fernando truly gets desperate, he goes to the printouts of his bank account and just stares at the numbers. Solace can be found in deposits of numbers followed by many, many zeroes.

Over time, the good moments start to crop up like a five o’clock shadow. Fernando takes Lance on a drive to visit some allies and they drive through glorious countryside in a sports car more expensive than any of the land as far as the eye can see. They play a couple of rounds of tennis in a court on Fernando’s estate. Lance’s sister visits and everyone’s in a good mood.

Somehow, though, something always happens to sour each and every small win. Lance squirms in the passenger seat of the car Fernando bought with his father’s money and picks a fight about missing Sebastian, who was the second best marriage candidate until Fernando put his name in the ring. When they’re out on the courts, Fernando asks why Lance seems far more passionate about tennis than business; Lance doesn’t realize it’s a joke and asks how long until Fernando gives up on him, just like Lawrence. Fernando is walking through his mansion late at night when he overhears Lance talking to Chloe in hushed voices about what she did to make Scotty like her, as if Lance needs coaching to even handle Fernando at all.

They fight and they make tentative peace. The ground gets shakier before it solidifies. Eventually, they manage to keep a respectable truce that varies throughout the week. They drink together, they talk together. Lance keeps lingering at the door of his room in a way that makes Fernando want to do something he regrets, but he never commits. Somehow, he knows that even one mistake is all it will take to destroy him forever.

Fernando is in between conference calls one day when Lance pops into his office. “I’m going to be back late tonight,” he announces. “Meeting Esteban.”

Fernando nods. “Want me to drive?”

“You’re in meetings,” Lance points out.

Fernando shrugs. “I can skip them.”

This makes Lance grin triumphantly, like he’s somehow proved himself far more valuable than even Fernando’s beloved ledgers and printouts. “That’s so unlike you, I’m charmed. I’ll be fine, we’re just grabbing drinks. See you later.”

Fernando lifts a hand in farewell when Lance does the same, and watches the man disappear back down the hall. Although it seems strange to say, Fernando swears the mansion seems emptier that evening. It’s just one person gone, he reminds himself, and besides, he and Lance don’t see each other all that often anyway. Too busy. Still, Fernando feels like his steps echo up and down the hallways in a way that they haven’t in a long time. Since before the wedding, perhaps. Since before he got used to having someone else around.

Fernando hadn’t intended to wait up for Lance, but he’d also assumed that the man would be back before too long. A few hours past midnight, Lance still hasn’t returned, but this probably doesn't mean anything. Maybe Lance is on a hell of a bender and he’ll find his way downstairs the next morning in even more disarray than usual. The thought makes Fernando smile.

Fernando wakes up the next day and decides to check that Lance had actually made it back, just in case. A bit of paranoia, but that’s how he’s made it this far, hasn’t he? Fernando drifts by Lance’s room, but the door is wide open, revealing– an empty bed, the sheets untouched. Wasn’t even slept in. Ignoring the skip in his heart rate, Fernando pokes his head inside, but he doesn’t see any evidence that Lance had been there.

Maybe he was drunk and passed out downstairs. Fernando can’t pretend like he hasn’t pulled that move before. However, after conducting an extensive sweep of the mansion, Fernando still can’t locate Lance. The questioning text sent to Lance’s phone goes unanswered. Fernando gives it five minutes before giving into his panic and calling him. Three times, it goes unanswered. By the final ring, Fernando is genuinely starting to panic.

Esteban does not sound happy to have Fernando calling him, even though it’s not even that early in the morning, all things considered. “What do you want?”

“Where’s Lance?” Fernando asks, abandoning all pretense.

Esteban sounds confused. “What do you mean?”

Fernando wants to throttle him. “He was out with you last night and he hasn’t come back. Is he with you or not?”

There’s a pause over the line, and when Esteban speaks again, his words are very deliberate. “What are you talking about? Lance was never with me.”

Fernando feels his heart drop. “That makes no sense. Lance told me he was meeting up with you for drinks. Did he never show up?”

“No,” Esteban says, and finally he sounds just as nervous as Fernando feels, “I never texted him at all. It must have been someone else impersonating me.”

Fernando swears. “Who? The Strolls have plenty of enemies, but who would go to the trouble of luring him out of my estate just to take him?”

Esteban is silent for a while, and then he speaks again in a rush of static. “Do you remember the BWT incident?”

Fernando lets out a low breath. “Of course I do. It’s half the reason I considered the Strolls in the first place.”

BWT was a sizable mob family of their own back in the day. Although they’d never been at the forefront like the Spanish, the Chevaux Rouges, or, hell, even the Bulls, they’d been there, and that’s more than most wannabes can say. Then Lawrence Stroll had gone and fucking bought them out. It’s unthinkable. Imagine having the money to purchase an entire black market ring. The Strolls were on the up-and-up, but after that, they solidified their place among the elite. That’s when Fernando had started looking at them in earnest.

“Nice one,” Esteban harrumphes. “Way to appreciate Lance.”

“I do,” Fernando insists, which feels strange. He’s never bothered to defend himself against Esteban’s feckless complaints, but he has the overwhelming need to exonerate himself from this one.

Esteban sighs. “I know Otmar Szafnauer signed the deal to give the Strolls control over BWT, but his right hand man, Sergio Pérez, was furious about it. He never forgave Otmar, and he’s had it out for Lawrence ever since. Everyone else in this goddamn city wouldn’t pick a fight with Lance, especially not so recently after they were all at the wedding, but Pérez wouldn’t care about something like that.”

“He’s probably been biding his time for a while now,” Fernando realizes. “Waiting until he could get back at Lawrence. This was his chance.” He stands up, signaling to one of his servants to rally his men. “Where is he? I need an address.”

Esteban tells him the location of his estate after some searching then hangs up, but not before reminding Fernando to get Lance as soon as possible, a sentiment that Fernando has no problem following. Carlos shows up just in time, the best killers under their employ with them. He starts to ask Fernando what the plan is, but Fernando silences him with a single glance. There is no plan. Fernando’s only want is to get Lance then burn the whole damn place to the ground.

Fernando Alonso is no stranger to killing. This is not the first time he’s gone after a rival. Still, he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted it like this in a very long while. Every bullet in the head of one of Pérez’s guards is one closer to getting Lance back. From the moment Fernando’s cars show up at Pérez’s property, he hopes the man is terrified.

They break down the gate, smash through the double doors, and everything goes to hell. The constant ricochet of bullets is like a drumbeat in Fernando’s ears. He is methodical, tactical, going from room to room. There will be no survivors. Blood starts to coat his shoes, his clothes, but Fernando does not care.

He’s hardly aware of what he’s doing at all until he breaks into a locked room somewhere in the basement and he finds a figure tied to a chair.

Lance.

The guards don’t stand a chance; they fall before they even get a chance to fire their guns. Fernando races to Lance’s side, undoing the bonds. Lines of dried blood arc across Lance’s face, his arms, and Fernando feels a bout of rage descend upon him, even stronger than when he first found out that Lance had been kidnapped.

“I’ll kill him,” Fernando pledges, “I’ll kill him, and I’ll make it long. He’ll be begging for mercy at the end, but I won’t give it to him. Not when he did this to you.”

Lance reaches up a trembling hand. Fernando catches it at once, pressing it between his two palms. “Fernando?” He asks uncertainly.

“Yes,” he says. “It’s me. You’re alright, Lance. I’m so sorry.”

Lance shakes his head. “Not your fault. I should have seen through it.”

“No,” Fernando insists. “He tricked all of us. I’ll put a bullet in his mouth to stop his lies.”

Lance stands up slowly, unevenly. Fernando catches him, helping him to the door. “I just want to go home,” Lance tells him. “You got your revenge. Let’s just go.”

“Okay,” Fernando says. “Let’s go home.”

On the way out, he passes Carlos, who tells him in terse Spanish that they have Pérez waiting for him. Usually, Fernando would insist on handling the matter himself, but Lance looks up at him and Fernando knows he can’t put this off any longer. He tells Carlos to handle it quickly, then leaves without waiting for an answer.

They get into a car together, Fernando driving and Lance in the passenger seat. The low light from occasional street lights shines on Lance’s face, reflecting the dim planes of his countenance.

Lance catches him looking and smiles softly. “I’m alright, Fernando.”

Fernando still isn’t entirely convinced. “I’ll get a doctor to look at you. I wouldn’t put anything past that coward. And I’ll get more guards on the estate, just in case. Around the clock.”

Lance scoffs. “We don’t need that. He’ll never touch us again. And besides, I know you’ll handle him if he does.”

Fernando is well used to being a source of fear, a reason not to attack. Hearing Lance’s sincere trust in him, though, even after being kidnapped, makes his frantic nerves finally start to settle. “Why would you have such faith in me?” He asks quietly as he parks the car in his garage, sitting in the stillness of the car now that the engine is off.

Lance actually smiles. “Let me prove it to you,” he says, and leans forward to kiss Fernando.

It explains a lot.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy

all tags list: @wordsarelife

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silvervioletvalentine · 1 year

Text

🦋A love so easy🦋

Pairing : Fernando Alonso X Cherrie!

Word count: 6k

Summary: in which she’s the female version of him. A complete menace . Or- moments that brought them love.

A/N - had to write a lil something for my fav silly little man. Don’t know if I like it seeing as I’ve never written for him before butttt, whatever! There is a age gap between Cherrie and him so… if you don’t like it then simply don’t read! Lemme know what u think xoxo

Whenever somebody would ask Fernando if he liked his new teammate, he would usually, typically answer with a sly smile and a casual 'she's okay I suppose' to them.

Because he didn't know how the hell he was supposed to explain how quickly fond he had become of the annoying little woman that followed him around, motormouth running a hundred miles per second as she chatted shit to him , even when she knew that he wasn't listening , simply refusing to leave him alone until he gave in and gave her the attention that she wanted. No, needed.

Because She was a brat. But a funny one. And very pretty too. At first Fernando had told himself that he was going to keep his distance to his new teammate , that he was going to just focus on climbing up the championship rankings and keep to himself as he did so. Not wanting any distractions in his way.

But then Cherrie happened and she left him with absolutely no choice in the matter. It greatly amused everyone else around them to see the older man practically running away from her down the paddock as she casually jogged bedside him, a wide smirk on her pretty face as she tortured him with long tales of how her weekend had been.

Jokingly trying to trip him up with her feet and prodding him in the back with her fingertips until he finally snapped. Smugly giggling away when he would scold her and tell her to leave him the hell alone , that she needed to at least let him have a giant cup of coffee before he was forced to deal with her.

So yes. Whenever somebody asked him how he felt about his new, younger and ridiculously beautiful teammate .. his answer now was always the same.

"And how are you finding working with Cherrie? Any difficulties? Have you two bonded well? She seems to think the world of you!" Jack, the interviewer questioned him with a knowing smirk on his face.

It being no secret around there over how fondly exasperated she made Alonso. It was more than amusing for them to all witness him looking to the sky pleadingly and asking the world what he had done to deserve this kind of torture, while Cherrie just was casually leaning against his shoulder , talking shit again in hopes of getting a reaction out of him.

Fernando just sighed, fighting back a grin of his own as he answered him , squinting from the sun that was beaming down in his eyes. Briefly Wishing that he had his sunglasses again. Only, they had been stolen.

And you could guess just who the little thief was. He had seen his smug teammate bouncing around the paddock with them sat proudly over her eyes, giving him a teasing little wiggle of her fingers when she passed him. Getting a middle finger in response from Fernando who was unable to hold back his own chuckle at her behaviour.

"She's very annoying. A complete attention whore." He answered him matter of factly, grinning to himself as he heard the few people that were around him laughing . Knowing that he wasn't exaggerating at all either.

"You know , I've been suggesting at the meetings that they do a regular drug test on her. Because she's so loud and hyper, like all the time!" He grinned in amusement , shaking his head at the thought of Cherrie and her big mouth.

In fact, Fernando was certain that she couldn't go more than an hour without causing trouble and deliberately going out of her way to bother someone.

He had seen her running around and testing all the other drivers patience as well, with her insulting jokes and lack of filter. He had, many a times, had to drag her away from one of them before she caused a fight just for her own entertainment.

She was a complete menace and she was turning his hair greyer and greyer by the day. But only to himself would he admit that he looked forward to seeing her chaotically bounce around the track each day, to hear her loud laugh and see her pretty smile.

She always threw her head back when she laughed and her knees buckled whenever she found something truly funny . Clinging onto whatever or whoever was closest to her so that she didn't collapse on the floor in a heap of giggles.

Her laugh and her bright smile were just so infectious that Fernando struggled not to laugh alongside her each time , no matter how stupid the joke had been. He always shook his head at her fondly because how on earth was he supposed to keep his distance and remain cordial with a woman that was so overly friendly, so affectionate and warm like she was?

He just couldn't do it. Instead he simply made himself a extra flask of coffee and wondered about how she was going to annoy him that day.

Would she try to trip him up again in front of everyone? Would she steal his lunch and leave a paper with 'thanks for dinner!' Written on it again?

Would she be taking his Ferrari for a spin again? Failing to let him know that she had slipped his car keys out of his pocket while hugging him, distracting him with her mischievous grin. Only finding out about her thievery later that day when multiple photos of her out and about in his car hit the internet. He had found a Polaroid picture of her sticking her tongue out at him blue tacked to his dashboard later that night and It was still there to this day.

She made his life even more exciting than it already was. He could never bored whenever she was around, she always kept him on his toes and at the edge of his seat. Running around after her like she was a naughty child wreaking havoc and not a nearly twenty five year old woman instead.

And if he asked himself when he was alone how he felt about his new teammate . He would answer to himself honestly . Without the fed up facade he usually wore whenever she was around.

He knew that he loved his new teammate . As simple as that. She was funny. She was snarky , sarcastic , with the attitude of a teenager who knew no boundaries. She loved causing drama and pissing people off just for the fun of it. She was like the female version of himself and Fernando loved it.

They worked great together too. And he loved the way that she would drag him over to her car with her after a difficult race , so she could show him where she thought she was having problems and what was frustrating her about it . Trusting him to give her good advice and help her out with her problems.

The rest of the world were more than shocked to see how unselfish he was when it came to her. The way he would instruct his team over the radio with ways to help his teammate out during the race. Still thinking about her even when he was going at ridiculous speeds around the track.

It was the way that he now always brought two drinks to work with him. A coffee for himself and either a large strawberry milkshake or a hot chocolate with marshmallows for Cherrie, depending on what the weather was like. She would always thank him with a long hug to his side and a beaming smile being gifted to him . And That was more than enough to make the extra thirty minute drive to her favourite cafe for the hot chocolate worth it for him.

It was the way that he always waited around after a race for her, just standing back and watching her do her interviews confidently , in her zone . Keeping an eye on her to make sure that nobody stepped out of line and upset her. He would kick their teeth in if they did. But she didn't need to know the lengths that he would go through just to make sure that she was happy all the time.

It was the way that he drove her home after each race , despite knowing that she had a car of her own. But she had complained once that she didn't like driving outside of races, that she was too tired and never wanted to hold a wheel again. So now, without them even discussing it, Fernando simply waited at his car for her so he could take her home. Becoming his passenger princess and forcing him to listen to her chaotic playlists and true crime podcasts while she fell asleep half way through one. Leaving him to smile fondly to himself and double check her seatbelt to make sure that she was safe. Carrying her sleeping self into her apartment and tucking her in, not bothering to leave a note. Instead he simply left a small kiss on her forehead before making the long drive back home, content with knowing that she was safely tucked away in bed.

It was the way that he now looked for her in every crowded room. Simply leaving if she wasn't there because to him, he would rather be at home alone than in a room that she wasn't in. And he didn't go the the celebrations party's if she wasn't attending them either.

They celebrated wins together or not at all. They were teammates on the track and off it too.

It was the way that Fernando could feel his skin itch whenever he watched some of the younger drivers giggle at her jokes and try to flirt with her right in front of him. And if he 'Accidentally' ended up tripping one of them up while walking by... well, that was nobody's business but his own now was it?

But it went both ways too. Fernando wasn't the only one showing these little things that had greater impact on his heart than he ever thought could be possible.

Cherrie did the same for him too.

It was the way that she always wore his merch, even when they weren't at the track. He would see a paparazzi picture of her out with some of her friends , wearing a pretty dress with his numbered cap ontop of her head. Despite it not matching her outfit at all. She always wore some piece of him on her. No matter where she was or who she was with.

It was the way that she would buy him his favourite whiskey from every country they went to. Dropping it off at his hotel room with a proud smile on her beautiful face when she held the giant bottle up for him to see. Then they would always end up inside his room, leaning against each-other sides in his bed as they watched a film together , Fernando trying to get her to like whiskey and Cherrie dramatically gagging each time he took a sip until he gave in and had room service bring up a pink cocktail for her. Enjoying the pleased grin that would light up her face when he handed it to her with a exasperated rolling of his eyes.

It was the way she trusted him with her life. The way she confided in him about her family, about her relationships and friends. The way that she always called him up first for advice. The way she trusted him to silently look after her and always have her back. The way that she never once left him out on a joke, or a conversation, always managing to make sure that he was included even when he honestly had no idea what was going on. He simply enjoyed listening to her chatter away to her friends, mesmerised by the way she could make anyone laugh , she lit up every single room that she was in. And he loved it.

So , yes. If asked about his new teammate. Fernando could only admit to himself that he was well and truly fucked!

Because keeping his distance from the loudmouth hadn't worked out in his favour at all. Instead he had fell in love with her instead . Because apparently that was the kind of idiot that he was now.

"You know..she is so annoying .." he continued to tell the interview with a loud laugh as he leant back against the railing behind him. On a small platform stage above the track now that the race was over.

"-she came knocking at my hotel room the other night at half past one in the morning . Demanding me to play fifa with her." He told them with a rolling of his eyes, still chuckling as he thought about the way she had turned up at his door in cat pyjamas and a sleepy look on her pretty face, barging into his room like she owned the place. With him simply closing the door behind her, knowing for a fact that she wouldn't be leaving his side anytime soon.

Jack laughed, looking amazed at the information. Because ten years ago if a teammate of his had turned up at his hotel room demanding he play games with them at nearly two o'clock in the morning, he would have punched their lights out without any hesitation.

But not Cherrie. No. Never her.

"Oh wow! And what did you do? Tell her to bugger off?" Jack laughed, curious to know how it went down.

Fernando simply smirked and answered him easily "well, she likes to behave like a child so I treat her like one. I made her a hot chocolate , wrapped her up in a blanket and then I bored her to sleep by talking about a nature documentary I watched. It was lights out in as little as twenty minutes." He smugly grinned. Proud of himself for handling the definitely unmedicated adhd woman the way he had.

They all laughed and Jack shook his head at the older driver with a amused grin.

"So it's going well then? Friends?" He said knowingly.

Fernando chuckled a little , adjusting his hat ontop of his head. "Well..I have no choice really. She never leaves me alone. I think she's in love with me." No, he knew that she was. Just like she knew that her feelings were definitely returned too.

They just hadn't brought it up to each other yet. Because between Cherrie stealing his car , sneaking into his hotel room , stopping her from picking fights and travelling all around the world together. There hasn't really been any time to bring up their feelings just yet.

Fernando didn't know if they ever would because as sociable and amazing as Cherrie was. She hardly ever took anything seriously. She didn't talk about her feelings for you, she would simply just bully you instead.

Fernando knew that she liked him the first time that she had called him a 'arrogant prick' and told him to stop revving his engine obnoxiously because 'making his Ferrari roar wouldn't make his dick any bigger!'.

And Fernando knew that he liked her back when he had simply burst into laughter at her insults instead of running her over with his car. It was as simple as that.

She was the only one who could speak to him that way and still live to tell the tale. He loved it because he could do the same to her too.

Because unlike max, Cherrie could dish it out and take it too.

She bullied him with a affectionate smile. And he bullied her back with a fond smirk plastered across his face too. That was just the way they worked and Fernando wouldn't change it for a single thing.

Before he could go on to tell Jack about all the other annoying things she had done to him lately , a familiar voice was heard shouting up to them.

Fernando chuckling to himself as he turned his head to look down at the ground beneath them, seeing Cherrie wave up at them with a mischievous grin on her pretty face from the bottom of the metal stares that led up to where they were.

"Speak of the she devil and she will appear!" He joked to others around him, smirking to himself in amusement . "We've summoned her." He muttered.

"Fernandooooo! Everybody loves Fernandooooo!" She sang up to them with a grin as she jogged up the stairs to join them. Not at all bothered about busting into the middle of his interview .

She simply winked at the camera and waved at the crew surrounding them filming . Walking over to her teammate and immediately leaning into his side.

"You missed me already?" Alonso teased her as he loosely wrapped his arm around her shoulders, giving her a small subtle squeeze. Looking down at her sunburnt cheeks and even darker freckles that now littered her noise.

Rolling his eyes to himself , knowing for a fact that she had forgotten to put on the sunscreen that he put in her bag for her to use again. Also knowing for a fact that he would be the one rubbing aloe Vera onto her skin later on when she complained of her Sunburn to him.

Cherrie just sighed dramatically, leaning her cheek against his arm and fluttering her lashes at him with a grin. "Oh yes. As soon as I couldn't find you I just burst into tears and fell to the ground , crying my little heart out!" She flailed her arm about , sniffling obnoxiously as she mimicked sobbing , despite the smirk on her lips. She was committed to her act.

He patted the top of her head with a amused laugh, shaking his head fondly at her . "I know. I would miss me too. I am amazing ." He said to her, eyes never leaving her own.

Missing the knowing looks that Jack and the crew were giving each other as they watched the teammates mess about in front of them.

Cherrie just laughed at him "sureee! Anyways ..I heard that you're going on holiday." She said to him, pretending to not be that interested in the fact that he was going to be out of the country for a few weeks tomorrow.

Fernando hummed suspiciously , knowing for a fact that she was planning something . "Yes..? I need the peace and quite. Some well deserved me time during our break." He said while side eyeing her. Counting down the seconds until she stopped beating around the bush and told him what she really wanted.

Trying not to laugh to himself as he watched her rock back and forth on the heels of her feet, plastering on a sweet smile on her pretty face as she looked up at him.

"Ya know.. I haven't been on holiday in a long time." She innocently mentions to him, looking up through her dark lashes at him.

Fernando snorted a laugh "go on one then." He simply replied back to her. Knowing for a fact what was about to happen.

He knew her a little to well already. A side effect of being in love with a woman that was as about as subtle as a flying brick in the face he supposed.

Cherrie just beamed at him, clapping her hands together excitedly. "Okay I will! What time will you pick me up tomorrow then?" She asked him with a grin while the crew around them laughed at her audacity.

Fernando looked back at her in disbelief "I didn't say you could come with me on my holiday! Did you not hear the 'I need peace and quite' part?" He exclaimed, trying not to laugh. But it was hard. He loved her! He really did.

She just pouted back at him pleadingly "please! You won't even know I'm there! I'll be quite. I'll just sit back and get a tan while you do you!" She promised him with a hopeful smile. Already knowing that she was going to get her own way.

Fernando laughed loudly at that, looking at her in amusement . "Trust me you cannot be quite for more than ten minutes and I will know you there! You're not a woman to be missed Cherrie! You're not coming with me! I'll never get any peace with you there!" He shot back at her, shaking his head.

Cherrie just stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her chin on his chest so that she could peer up at him with those eyes..

Fernando groaned to himself, unable to look away as she batted those beautiful eyes at him. Pouting her lips in a way that she knew would have him folding in half like a ironing board.

"Come on! It'll be fun! We can get tan and swim around..oh my god did you get the room with a jacuzzi?" She gasped excitedly, already planning what she was going to do.

Her teammate just sighed "yes I did. For me. Not you." He reminded again. But it was no use.

Cherrie looked at him for a moment before smirking to herself and letting out a dramatic sigh of her own, simply shrugging her shoulders at him.

"okay. Then I guess I'll just go on holiday with Charles and Pierre instead. Two beautiful men and just me .. in a tiny bikini on some tropical island together where we can do whatever we want without anyone watching us .." she pretended to pull away from him, acting unbothered.

But she couldn't stop the smug smirk from tugging at her lips when she felt Alonso grip the belt loop of her denim shorts and yank her back into his side within seconds of her mentioning the two drivers (who had crushes on her and always flirted with her in front of him) names.

Fernando was scowling at her now, jealously biting him in the ass as he folded. Just like she knew he would.

"Absolutely not! You're coming on holiday with me!" He snapped immediately.

Giving her a grumpy shove to the side of her head with the palm of his hand , Sending her stumbling away from him with giggles falling from her lips as she obnoxiously cheered , throwing her hands in the air victoriously.

"Okay. We need to pack your shit then." He sighed out , smiling despite himself as he took ahold of her hand so that he could help her safely down the steep stairs. Not trusting her not to face plant right down to the bottom of them. She was that clumsy.

He briefly looked over his shoulder at the chuckling crew and sighed "I'll see you guys in two weeks. I'll either be bald or completely grey haired! Pray for me guys!" He joked. Getting a offended slap in the arm from Cherrie who just called him a dick underneath her breath , before running off to wait for him by his car.

And really Fernando should have seen this whole thing coming . He was completely gone for her. It was ridiculous . All these little moments of laughter, of insulting jokes and bickering. Of soft moments and warm hugs in hotel rooms. Of pretending to be unbothered by her presence in a room full of people, when the only person he wanted to be with was her.

It had all come down to this. It was just a matter of time wasn't it? And well, Fernando had never been a coward. Never been afraid of saying it like it is, his feelings included.

So it wasn't surprising to him that as soon as they were in his car and he was driving her to her apartment to help her back for their holiday in the morning , he took one look at Cherrie, bathed in the golden sun that was setting around them and just sighed in defeat .

"I love you ya know?" It came out so simply, merely stating a fact . Because it was that simple. He loved her for all that she was and all that she could be.

And he knew that she felt the same. Love didn't have to be complicated or scary . It didn't feel that way for them. It just felt right. Like all the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. This has been a long time coming.

He thought about that time when she had snuck into his room after they had a little argument about him accidentally blocking her from getting past on the track, having defended the wrong position by mistake. They had bickered and his ego had prevented him from taking all the blame, leaving a loud mouthed Cherrie to tell him to go fuck himself before storming away. He had expected her to hold a grudge , for their newly formed friendship to fall apart . But he should have known better than that.

Because not even a few hours later she was walking into his hotel room like it was her own, holding a bottle of champagne as a peace offering, no longer mad after she had seen the upset look on his face when he had to explain himself to the media , apologising to her publicly with regret, clearly beating himself up over his mistake that had cost her points.

So she had put her own ego aside and did the right thing. She simply threw herself down on the couch beside him, giving him a casual grin as she held up a small bracelet for him to see. Looking pleased with herself when he carefully took it from her fingers and examined it closely .

"I made it for you. A little gift from me to you." She muttered while smirking.

Fernando had looked down at the cotton threaded bracelet made up of their team colours and laughed when he saw the beads in the middle of it.

No.1 Asshole. It read.

He slipped it onto his wrist with a growing grin on his lips. Chuckling at her as he looked back up at her smug , ridiculously pretty face.

"You have to make me one now." She had joked "like friendship bracelets."

He had merely laughed again "and what would I put on it? Loudmouth?" He resorted back to her. Tightening the braclet around his wrist to make sure that it didn't fall off.

Cherrie had just shrugged, more interested in the football game on the tv then. "Whatever word you think of when you think of me I suppose ."She muttered distracted.

And maybe he knew it back then too. The love had to have already been in his veins . Because the next day he had bought a children's bracelet making kit and got to work.

It was after a race when he handed it to her casually , as though it was nothing . Kissing the side of her hand in congratulations, the proudness clear on his face for her after she had gotten a podium win.

hermosa. It simply read. She just winked at him and tightened the cotton around her wrist. Nothing needed to be said. It was that simple. It always had been.

There was also the moments that brought him to loving her that she didn't know about. That he would never admit to doing.

Like the time that he had found out from Lance that Cherrie was going on a date with some guy she had met in a bar with her friends the night before. He should have known that it was love the moment he felt his stomach twist and his smile drop from his face as though he had just been told someone had died.

He Should have known it was love the moment he found himself outside the hotel , casually leaning against one of the fancy pillars as he waited for her date to show up. Having heard from Lance that Cherrie had told the guy that she would meet him outside the front of the hotel.

And well, love apparently made you crazy because the minute Fernando spotted the suited guy strolling up to the hotel holding roses in his hand, he had a sudden urge to hit him with his car.

Instead he simply smiled at the man , who was none the wiser to what he was about to experience.

And look. Fernando was a good guy. He was trying to be a better man. Really he was. But he just found it a little difficult to be one when he was face to face with the man about to take his teammate , the one woman that he might have fallen in love with, out on a date.

So he stopped the poor man in his tracks and sighed pitifully at him . "You here for Cherrie?" He spoke up casually , acting unbothered.

The young man frowned slightly but nodded his head on conformation. "Yes. I am."

Alonso faked a wince , patting him sympathetically on his back. "Oh man. Good luck then. She's crazy! You have a first aid kit ready?" He said to him, fighting back a grin as he saw a flash of uneasiness pass the mans face.

He frowned over at him in confusion "no? Why would I need one? We're just getting dinner." He told him obliviously. Shifting away from him uneasily.

Fernando just shrugged, trying not laugh. "Oh you don't know? I've just heard that she's into the whips and chains. Likes to make a man scream if you know what I mean, and not completely in the pleasurable way but.." he let out a sigh, casually shrugging his shoulders . "To Each there own i suppose."

Her date had paled horribly, looking horrified. "What? But-she didn't mention anything about it. She seems really sweet and fun last night when I met her.." he trailed off, looking worried now.

Fernando was trying to not cry with laughter , biting his cheek to hold his mean little giggles in.

He kept going, needing to scare him off completely. "Mmm. She likes role play . All though it wouldn't be pretend for you if you do stick around after the candle wax and whips...she'll be popping that baby out soon too! You can play daddy!" He couldn't help himself . Really he couldn't.

Smirking slyly beneath the palm of his hand as he coughed to hide his laughter , looking at her date who looked like he was going to pass out in fear.

"Baby? She's pregnant?" Her date weakly echoed in disbelief .

Fernando just casually nodded his head "oh yeah. With her husbands , brothers baby. A real drama but.. hey, good luck man! You'll need it!" He stepped away from the wall, patting the horrified man on the shoulder encouragingly .

Before he could get very far, the man quickly shoved the roses into his hands and gasped. "I can't do this! I just-I don't want to be whipped or tortured in bed!" He panicked , looking like he might be sick "and I can't -a baby? Oh my god!" He stumbled over his words, backing away from the hotel fearfully.

He looked at a smug Fernando with wide eyes "will you tell her that I'm sorry but I'm just not the right one for..whatever it is that she wants?" He pleaded to him.

Alonso just beamed back at him happily "no worries buddy! I'll let her know!" He shouted gleefully at his back as her date ran away. Sprinting away from the hotel and never looking back again.

Not even five minutes later a annoyed Cherrie was stomping towards him with a pout on her pretty face, feeling his breath hitch as he looked at the little black dress she was wearing. She looked like a goddess and Alonso could only silently stare in awe at her for a moment as she stomped towards him.

"He stood me up! What a jerk!" She complained to him obviously .

Fernando just offered her a sympathetic smile before holding out the roses her date had shoved into his hands when he scared him away.

"I know . I bumped into the coward. He was bragging about how he had a wife waiting for him back home so I told him to fuck off for you." He lied to her. Feeling a little bad but not too much.

Cherrie gently took the roses from him with a small smile , looking at him gratefully. "You got me flowers? That's so sweet!" She cooed before squeezing him into her embrace. Both arms around his waist as she cuddled into him happily, ditched date forgotten as soon as she saw him.

He hugged her back just as tightly , running the palm of his hand over her bare back soothingly, kissing the top of her head with a quiet , content sigh.

"No big deal." He simply muttered before pulling away and giving her a smile "I'll take you out tonight instead. You want to go to Tilly's?" He mentioned her favourite restaurant smugly. Knowing how much she loved the food there.

Cherrie gasped excitedly, beaming at him as he gently hooked their arms together , leading them to his Ferrari .

"Fuck yes! Can I drive?" She tried her luck, looking up at him hopefully.

Fernando just snorted and pushed her into the passenger seat of his car not so gently , giving her a amused look . "Absolutely not. Plus , you want to drink like a alcoholic tonight , yes?" He knew her too well.

Cherrie paused before slowly nodding her head , smiling over at him sheepishly as he got into the drivers seat and started up the car.

"Yes. You don't mind not drinking?" She looked gratefully at him. Pulling out her phone to take a picture of him as he drove, admiring his side profile with a small smile tugging at her red lips.

"As long as your happy, I don't give a fuck." He simply replied. Meaning it.

And really. He should have known them what he knew now. It was all so simple and so obvious when he looked back at all their moments together , each one leading to this.

So it was no surprise that he told Cherrie he loved her casually in his car as he drove them to her apartment to pack for their holiday that she had invited herself on . In typical Cherrie fashion.

And it was no surprise when she simply reached over the console to press soft kisses against his skin as she whispered back to him "I love you too."

It was that easy. That simple. And others may not have understood their relationship. They may not have liked it. But they simply didn't care. Because love was love , as simple as that.

He was winning on the track and off it too. He couldn't have been happier.

#f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 fic #f1 oneshot #formula 1 imagine #Fernando Alonso imagine

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