Cheering From Heaven

Cheering From Heaven

Charles Leclerc x Senna!Driver!Reader

Genre: sad but also fluffy

Request: yep! I hope you like it! I actually cried a little writing it. My requests are still open for like... half the grid at this point. So please send me your ideas, I am begging, don't be shy. :)

Summary: reader never got to meet her father, but thanks him everyday for the racing in her DNA. When she overhears a conversation about her over dramatic celebrations, she becomes more reserved. Charles immediately takes notice and is determined to restore the energy she once had.

Warnings: Talks of death and crashes, not proofread (if I ever proofread call the police because it’s not me someone stole my identity).

Notes: written in second person. For the purpose of this fic, the Ferrari strategists know how to do their job.

Y’all have been giving my fics so much love. Thank you all so much 🥺❤️

Masterlist

You were the first female driver on the grid. You worked your way up the ranks just like everyone else. Your mother doing her best to support you despite it being just you and her.

She always said you have racing in your blood. Your father died before you could meet him. The fatal accident of Aryton Senna rocked everyone.

Especially your mother, who had just found out she was pregnant with you.

You were determined to continue his legacy. Knowing he was cheering you on from the afterlife.

When you started competing more often and moving up through the stages. You decided to go by your mother's last name. Not wanting your fathers name to have anything to do with how people saw you as a driver.

You wanted to race for him, not because of him. Nepotism in this sport can make or break someone's career.

When you got up to Formula 1, you cried tears of joy. Knowing that your father was looking out for you.

You were relatively accepted among everyone. You and your teammate Charles got along better than anyone could imagine.

Competing and pushing each other, but still remaining close at the end of the day.

What you didn't know was that some on the grid found you annoying.

You had found fast success and with it came rituals. You wanted to cheer loud enough for your father to hear you. Celebrating enough for the both of you.

It hurt having not known him, but you felt like you did at times. Hearing his name still being praised. You’d watched his races on YouTube repeatedly. You knew he would be ecstatic to see you here.

Everywhere else you were very down to earth and chill. On the podium, however, was a different story. There you let everything go, enjoying yourself for those who couldn’t be there with you. It was your ritual and you loved it. Charles found it entertaining despite not understanding it. You worked hard for your success, why shouldn’t you enjoy it?

You were going to run up and join a group of the guys walking and talking after a race one evening. Charles being one of them. You’d grown feelings for him and even if he didn’t return them, having him as a friend was still great.

They didn’t hear you approach, continuing there conversation without remorse.

“I don’t know man, I find her annoying.”

Charles was immediately confused at this. “Annoying? How so? I find her the least annoying out of everyone else.” He chuckled at his own funny remark.

“I agree. She seems very cocky when she wins. Rubbing it in everyone’s faces.”

A course of similar comments and agreements strung from their mouths. You didn’t stay to hear everything, quickly finding your way back to your hotel room.

Charles had left the conversation not long after. Leaving them the group with one last statement before walking off. “Who cares how she celebrates? Anyone that wins wants to enjoy it, so let her have this.”

While you became quieter and more reserved, Charles became more concerned. You weren’t the sunshine everyone enjoyed having around. You weren’t offering soothing words when someone had an off day. It was strange and he didn’t like it. He became determined to help you through it.

Everyone started talking after your next win. You smiled but said nothing. You looked unfazed by the champaign chaos. You were hardly celebrating.

Everyone else assumed your were sick, but Charles had the feeling there was something else at play.

He’d immediately given into his crush on you. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to escape it since you spent tons of time together. If only he could help you through whatever fought patch you were in. Maybe he could get the confidence to ask you out.

It was now time for the Brazilian Grand-Prix. Imola. The track Ayrton Senna lost his life.

You were hoping to win today for him, and you had a good shot at doing so after an amazing qualifying.

In the evening you decided to visit your father’s memorial. The track was clear like the sky. Pink and orange hues shining down in rays. You dropped to your knees, placing the flower you brought in front of the memorial.

“I hope you can forgive me for not cheering loud anymore.” You cried. Failing to notice the footsteps behind you. “Mom says you’d be proud of me. That you would’ve come to every race. I wish I could’ve known you.”

Charles crouch’s next to you. His hand rubbing circles on your back in a soothing manner. He didn’t say anything, just let you talk. He knows how it feels to miss someone.

“I cheer loudly so that he can hear me. I just know he’d be celebrating with me, so I do enough for the both of us.” You confessed, leaning into Charles’ touch.

“I understand.” He guides your face to look at him, gently wiping your tears with his thumb. “Your dad would be proud of you. I am also proud of you.”

No other words needed to be said. You leaned in, your foreheads now touching. Somehow, that did all the talking for you.

The next day brought excitement and anxiety. You and Charles fighting hard to be at the top. You nearly cried when you won. Charles right behind you in second.

When the cars were parked, you jumped into his arms. Adrenaline flooding through your veins. She the interviewer came to ask you about the race, you looked at Charles. Him nodding at you and giving you a thumbs up for reassurance.

“I just want to say that I’m dedicating this win to my father, Ayrton Senna. I hope to continue his legacy.”

Everyone stared at you before the chanting of your name started. The name everyone knew you by now changed.

You were hesitant to celebrate on the podium. Until Charles took your hand in his and yelled at the top of his lungs. Bathing you in the alcohol. So you finally let loose again, the fans screaming with you.

And when you two were alone again, you realized your father had been watching you. He sent you Charles. A soft ‘thank you’ falls from your lips before kissing Charles Champagne covered lips.

Hi can i request a carlos sainz fic, smut preferably and top male reader. Maybe the reader being charles or max's brother and them meeting at the bar were some of the drivers celebrate after a race week, then maybe something funny like carlos realising he got his back bent by his rival/teammate.

Sorry if its to much! 😖 im just happy that theres a dom male reader blog that writes for f1 drivers :>

FORBIDDEN FRUIT

WARNINGS: religious references, blowjob, bareback, praise, idk its gay and horny what else can I say

You were like the forbidden fruit. You were his teammate’s older brother. He shouldn’t have wanted you in the way he did, but he couldn’t help it. Your low voice, smooth words, handsome face, tall stature drew him in like a moth to a flame. Maybe those same things were how he found himself on his knees in front of you, sucking your cock. Everything beforehand was blurry for Carlos, he couldn’t remember most of his time at the club where he and others were celebrating the recent race or the ride here to your hotel but he didn’t care. He wanted this so badly; he dreamt of this very moment. You looked better than he had ever imagined. The top buttons of your shirt unbutton, revealing your chest, a sheen of sweat on your forehead, pants pooling at your knees. You looked angelic to Carlos, no you looked godly. Yeah, that was correct. You were like a god among men and Carlos was your dutiful follower, worshiping your cock. Sucking and licking your cock with such precision that you would have sworn Carlos had done it thousands of time. 

While Carlos thought he had the best view, you would’ve argued that you had the better view. Carlos looked so fucking hot on his knees, hair sticking to his forehead, shirt clinging to his perfect body, cock straining against his pants desperately wanting some sort of simulation. Bringing your shoed foot up, you pressed it against his hard on. He rutted into it as he continued to suck you off. It was heaven for both of you and it wasn’t long after you started showing Carlos neglected cock attention that he came moaning around your cock. The vibrations sending you into bliss as well, spilling down his throat. Carlos happily milked you for everything you had, swallowing it eagerly. Once you came down from high, Carlos slowly pulled off your cock. 

Looking up at you, he thought you were the most gorgeous being in the world. You looked probably even better than before with a blissed out look on your face. Carlos smiled to himself as he rested against your thigh. He couldn’t help but let his mind wander, wondering how it would feel for you to fuck him. The mere thought making him hard again. Looking down at Carlos, you admire his gorgeous face, your hand coming up to gently brush his hair off of his forehead. You could definitely get used to this sight. Yes, you could, but there was another sight you would like to see that being what Carlos would look like speared on your cock. You could only imagine the sounds he would make. He would probably sound heavenly, hmm, most definitely.

“Round 2?”

“Please.” Carlos said, looking up at you with those big beautiful brown eyes. Even if you wanted to say no, you couldn’t. That look was too precious to say no to.

“Alright, get up.” He nodded as he slowly rose to his feet the pain from kneeling for so long now finally making itself know as well as the uncomfortable feeling of his cum in his boxer. He looked to you for the next direction.

“Undress.” You say as you start unbuttoning your shirt the rest of the way. Carlos nodded again, doing what you told him as you did the same thing. Now both naked, you gently held Carlos’ hips bring him into you, your lips locking with each other. Carlos hummed at the taste of liquor still on your lips. The taste was addicting just like everything about you. But all good things must come to an end and you pull away to allow both of you to catch your breaths. Gently pushing Carlos back onto the bed, you take in his body like you’re admiring a piece of art because that was truly was what he was. 

“Your so pretty, I can’t wait to devour you.”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please, fuck me. I want you so bad,” He whined, those puppy dog eyes on display once again.

“Can’t say no to that.” You say as you go over to your luggage, rummaging through it. Carlos wants to ask what you're looking for, but you soon pull out lube and condoms.

“No condoms, I want it raw. Want to feel all of you.”

“Ok, love.” Walking back over to the bed you join him on it. Kissing down his body, you get him as comfortable as you can be your squirt lube onto your fingers before gently toying with his hole. It’s been awhile since Carlos had done this. The anticipation is killing him, but he doesn’t have to wait long till your first finger is breaching his hole. It feels fucking amazing. He forgot how good this feels. You gently work him open words of praise spilling from your mouth. Telling how good he is, how good he’s being for you. Little noises making their way out of Carlos’s mouth as you add the second finger after he’s worked open enough. Those little noises make your ears perk up. You want here more of them, they sound so lovely. And by the time you’re slipping your third finger Carlos little noises have turned into full on whines as he begs you to fuck him. He doesn’t care if he’s not fully prepped to take your cock, he wants it to hurt, it wants to feel it tomorrow and the day after that. Because god knows if this is ever going to happen again. He wants to soak up as much of you and as much of this as he can to memory. He hopes this isn’t a onetime thing because he feels wonderful and he has no doubts you're enjoying yourself to, but he throws all thoughts of doubt at the window in favor of being in the moment. especially when you pull your fingers out of him. 

Finally, the main course, the thing Carlos has been eagerly waiting for. You take a moment to lube up your cock before placing yourself at his entrance and slowly start pushing into him. Carlos let out the sluttiest sound that he had let out all night as you push in. The stretch, the burning that accompanied it had Carlos leaking onto his stomach. Carlos immediately started fucking himself back on you as you fully seated yourself in him. He felt so full and he wanted you to absolutely destroy him. 

“That desperate already?” You laughed. Carlos felt his face heat up and he tries to hide his face with his hands. But you pull them away and pin them above his head as you start fucking into him. 

“Don’t hide your pretty face. I want to see all those little looks and hear all those little noises. You hear me.” Carlos nodded.

“Good.” You say, leaning down to kiss him. The kiss is rough, hungry, almost carnal, and Carlos loves it. It adds to the position he is in now, it adds to the roughness that are in your thrusts. It adds to everything, and it’s made even better as you start kissing down to his neck. Sucking hickies in it, if you were anyone else he would have pulled you off, but you were you and he wanted a visual reminder of this even if he had to pull out his makeup skills to cover them in the morning to not get the press all over him as he made his way home today. But that was a later him problem same with how he was going to get back to his hotel in the morning without being seen all marked up. His mind didn’t linger on these for long as you found his spot and started to abuse it. The loud almost porn star like moan Carlos involuntarily let out had his face heating back up and if it wasn’t for you holding his hands above his head, he would surely be covering it.

“You look divine.” You whisper in his ear as your hands lower to finally giving his poor aching cock some attention. Your hand were soft but at the same time had this roughness to them that made your movements feel heavenly like the feeling of your cock deep within him, abusing his prostate. Carlos was overwhelmed to say the least. With the way you were fucking him and the way you were jerking him off and the words of praise and encouragement spilling from your mouth. The culmination of everything that was happening/ had happened finally made him cum, spilling all over your hand. The smirk on your face as you speed up your pace now chasing your high. It didn’t take long for overstimulation to hit. It was so dizzying and so much that he couldn’t place a single word to how he felt. But it was certainly delectable. Delectable like how he imagined the forbidden fruit tasted. Yes, you were his ultimate forbidden fruit and there was no going back now that he had a taste of you. And you surely weren’t going back either now that you had a taste of your own forbidden fruit. Now there was truly no return as you filled Carlos to the brim. You were addicted well even more than you were before. You let out a sigh as you filled him. It felt right. You hoped it felt just as right to Carlos as it did to you. But I guess that is something you would learn later when you both were completely sober and had clearer heads untainted by lust. As you begin to soften, you pull out and lie next to Carlos. Despite both of you being hot and sweaty, you pulled him into you, giving him a kiss on the forehead. You stayed like that, holding him for a bit before you got up to run a bath for the two of you. The bath was serene and blissful as you cleaned the two of you up, allowing Carlos to just relax and be taken care of. No worries in sight for now, all of those being future Carlos’s problem.

After a morning of some gut spilling and a lot of heart spilling. Carlos happily made his way back to his hotel in some clothes that you had lent him with plans to meet up when you both were back in Monaco. As he was waiting for the elevator, he heard Charles greet him from behind, patting him on the shoulder. Carlos felt his heart drop into his stomach. He shook it off quickly and greeted him, trying to pretend everything was normal and he didn’t get his guts rearranged by his brother last night or had hickies from him on his neck. 

“Where did you disappear last night? I was looking for you?” Carlos stayed silent as he thought of an excuse, but Charles noticed the hickies on his neck. A smile spreading on his face.

“Got lucky last night, huh?”

“Yeah.” He said, avoiding eye contact. He wouldn’t have been embarrassed if it was with anyone else but this was different. It was scandalous to say the least, fucking your best friend and teammates older brother. Yeah that didn’t go over with most people and right now Carlos didn’t want to find out if it would go over to Charles.

Pequeña

Happy Nation: A Series of Standalone Fics

Fernando Alonso x Webber!Reader

Summary: a brutal breakup leads you right into the arms of one of your father's oldest friends (or in which being sooooo normal about Fernando Alonso runs in the Webber family)

Warnings: 18+ content, age gap, taking advantage of an emotionally vulnerable state, breeding, and pregnancy

You sit hunched on your bed, knees pulled up to your chest as tears stream down your face. Your mobile vibrates again and you swipe away another message from your now ex-boyfriend without reading it. How could he do this to you? You thought what you had was real.

Your thoughts drift to home, to your family thousands of miles away in Australia. You long for your dad’s comforting embrace and your mum’s reassuring words. But they’re so far away. You feel painfully alone in this strange English city where you’ve come to attend university.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re dialing a familiar number. It rings three times before a warm voice picks up. “Hola pequeña! What’s wrong?”

“N-Nando ...” You sniffle, trying and failing to keep your voice from cracking. “He … he cheated on me.”

There’s a pause before Fernando responds, his Spanish lilt taking on a protective edge. “That little hijo de puta. I’ll kill him myself.”

You let out a watery laugh. “No, don’t do that. I … I just miss home. Miss my family.”

“Say no more, pequeña. You’re coming to stay with me for a bit, yeah? Can’t have you all alone like this.”

You hesitate, wiping at your tears. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose ...”

“Impose?” Fernando laughs. “My favorite girl? Never. I’m sending a car to get you right now.”

“No, no, I can drive myself-”

“You’ll do no such thing in this state,” he chides. “Driver’s on his way. Go pack a bag.”

You open your mouth to protest again but think better of it. Fernando can be extremely stubborn when he wants to be. “Okay, okay. Thank you, Nando. Really.”

“De nada, pequeña. I’ve got the guest room all ready for you. We’ll get through this together, yeah?”

His soothing Spanish accent is already making you feel infinitely better. You know Fernando has been close with your family for years, has watched you grow up into the young woman you are today. He’s always treated you like his own daughter.

“I’m looking forward to it,” you say, meaning it. Spending time with Fernando is guaranteed to lift your spirits. “Your place in Silverstone, right?”

“That’s the one. Get packing and don’t worry about a thing. I’ll see you very soon.”

You hang up and immediately start throwing clothes and essentials into an overnight bag with a renewed sense of hope. Fernando always knows just what to do to make you feel better.

Two hours later, you’re being ushered into the backseat of a sleek black sedan by a courteous driver in a pressed suit. He takes your bag and stows it in the trunk before sliding behind the wheel.

“Miss Webber? I’ll be taking you to Mr. Alonso’s residence now.”

You nod, suddenly exhausted from all the crying. The driver seems to sense your melancholy because he doesn’t try to make small talk.

The English countryside whips by in a blur of green fields and quaint villages. Before you know it, the sedan is pulling up to an impressive brick estate surrounded by beautifully manicured gardens.

The driver lets you out and leads you up to the front door, which swings open before you can knock. Fernando stands there in a soft white sweater and dark-washed jeans, arms open wide.

“Pequeña!” His eyes crinkle at the corners as he pulls you into a fierce hug. “Welcome, welcome.”

You breathe in his comforting scent of sandalwood and citrus as he rubs soothing circles on your back. “I’m glad you came,” he murmurs.

He ushers you inside and you can’t help but gape at the tasteful, modern interior decor. It’s bright and airy, with huge windows offering views of the impeccable gardens beyond.

“This place is incredible, Nando,” you say, trailing behind him as he leads you through the spacious living room towards what appears to be the kitchen.

“You like?” He grins over his shoulder. “I had it remodeled not too long ago. Here, have a seat.” He pulls out a barstool at the huge kitchen island.

You take a seat, settling your elbows on the cool granite surface as Fernando busies himself at the stove. “So,” he says without turning around. “Tell me everything, from the beginning. Don’t leave out a single detalle.”

You sigh, resting your chin in your hands as Fernando starts pulling ingredients from the fridge. “Well, it started a few weeks ago. ..”

You recount all the little things that, in hindsight, were red flags: the constant emailing and texting, the unusually long nights “studying” at the library, the bizarre excuses. Fernando listens intently, occasionally tossing in a sympathetic “maldito idiota” or an indignant shake of his head.

Finally, you get to the part where you finally confronted your now ex about his shady behavior … only to have him confess that he’d been cheating on you for months with some underclassman sociology major.

By the time you’ve finished, your voice is thick from holding back a fresh wave of tears. Fernando sets down the knife he was using to chop vegetables and comes around the island to pull you into another hug.

“Oh, pequeña,” he murmurs into your hair. “Lo siento mucho. You didn’t deserve any of that, you hear me?”

You just nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Fernando rubs your back again before pulling away, hands on your shoulders so he can look you square in the eyes.

“Listen. That boy?” A feisty glint enters his warm hazel eyes. “He’s a fool, a complete and total imbecile for hurting someone as incredible as you. You’re so brave, so strong, so full of life ...” He tucks an errant strand of hair behind your ear. “And any man should consider himself the luckiest in the world to have you in his life, you understand?”

You manage a watery smile and nod again. Leave it to Fernando to know exactly what to say to begin mending your broken heart.

“Good.” He straightens up, clapping his hands together decisively. “Now dry those tears, pequeña. I’m making my famous seafood paella for dinner tonight and I’ll need my best assistant chef!”

You let out a surprised laugh, swiping at the dampness on your cheeks. “You know I’m a disaster in the kitchen.”

“Nonsense!” Fernando waves a dismissive hand as he returns to the cutting board. “Everyone can learn with a little guidance from Chef Nano, no?”

The next couple of hours pass in a blur of cheerful chopping, stirring, and laughing as Fernando walks you through the steps, nudging you gently whenever you veer off course. It’s impossible to stay weighed down by your sadness when he’s cracking jokes in that irreverent way of his and peppering you with silly kitchen nicknames.

By the time you’ve portioned out the fragrant saffron rice studded with shrimp, mussels, and clams into bowls, you’re doubled over in a fit of giggles from Fernando’s dramatic retelling of his past Formula 1 antics.

“... And then this crazy Australian madman comes barreling into the pit and just starts laying into me!” He throws his hands up, eyes dancing with mirth. “If Charlie hadn’t stepped in, I think your old man really might’ve killed me that day!”

You shake your head, still laughing as you take your first bite of the paella. It’s absolute perfection, the flavors melding together in an incredible symphony on your tongue. “My dad really went after you?”

“Oh yeah,” Fernando chuckles, digging into his own bowl. “We were like two crazed animals back then whenever we were on the track together. Couldn’t stand each other.”

There’s a lull as you both focus on eating for a few minutes. When you’re pleasantly full and satiated, you sit back with a contented sigh.

“Nando, that was hands down the best paella I’ve ever had.”

“You flatter me too much.” He waves a hand, but you can tell he’s pleased. “Just wait until tomorrow, when Chef Nano teaches you how to make the perfect tortilla Española, eh?”

The idea of getting to spend more time with Nando and being cooked for brings a genuine, untroubled smile to your face for the first time in days. This is just what you needed to start healing from your recent heartbreak.

***

As you help Fernando clear the dishes, a comfortable silence settles between you. He pours you both generous glasses of his favorite Spanish rioja and you retire to the plush living room sofas.

Fernando settles into the overstuffed armchair across from you, stretching out his lean legs as he takes a sip of wine. “So, pequeña ...” He fixes you with that warm, piercing gaze. “What is it you really want? In a man, I mean.”

You pause, considering his question as you swirl the ruby liquid in your glass. “I … I’m not sure I know anymore, to be honest. I thought I had it all figured out with ...” You trail off, unable to even say your ex’s name without a pang of hurt lancing through you.

Fernando reaches over to pat your knee comfortingly. “Hey, no more tears, okay? That pendejo is in the past. I’m asking what your ideal partner would be like going forward. What do you want, need, deserve from a man?”

You take a fortifying sip of the bold, peppery wine before responding. “I think … more than anything, I just want to feel cherished. Valued. Like I’m the most important person in his world.”

Fernando’s expression softens. “Oh, pequeña. You have such a big, beautiful heart. Of course that’s what you want — to be adored and treated like the incredible woman you are.”

You duck your head, warmth blooming in your cheeks at his praise. “I don’t know, Nando. Maybe I’m just being naive or asking for too much ...”

“Claro que no!” He leans forward, pinning you with an intense look. “You’re allowed to want those things, pequeña. You’re allowed to be selfish when it comes to your heart and what you need to be truly, deeply happy.”

His words resonate somewhere deep within you and you find yourself nodding slowly. “You’re right. I am allowed to want someone who makes me their whole world and never takes me for granted, aren’t I?”

“Exactamente.” Fernando reaches over to grasp your hands, his calloused fingers engulfing yours. “And let me tell you — any man who doesn’t give you that is un verdadero idiota. You deserve to be cherished, worshipped, put up on a pedestal every single day.”

His dark eyes burn with conviction, lips pressed into a serious line. You find yourself unable to look away, mesmerized by the sheer intensity of his words and manner.

“You deserve everything, pequeña,” he continues in a low, gravelly tone. “A man who makes you his whole priority, who loves you with every fiber of his being. Someone who will lay the world at your feet.”

Fernando reaches up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb stroking over the apple of your cheekbone reverently. The calloused pad of it sends a shiver racing down your spine.

“Someone who looks at you and can scarcely breathe for how lucky, how blessed they are to have you in their life ...”

His face is so close to yours now, his warm breath caressing your lips. You’re completely transfixed, body thrumming with barely restrained tension and … anticipation?

Fernando’s next words are barely more than a hoarse rumble. “I will cherish you, pequeña. Always. Allow me to show you how a real man adores the woman he loves.”

And then his mouth is on yours, hot and insistent and tasting of wine and desire. You gasp into the kiss, frozen for a split second before melting against him, kissing him back with equal fervor. Your hands slide up to tangle in the soft strands at the nape of his neck as he angles his head, deepening the heated exchange.

Fernando groans low in his throat, the vibrations shooting straight to your core. His large, nimble hands come up to frame your face, holding you in place as he takes his time thoroughly exploring your mouth, nibbling at your lips, stroking his talented tongue against yours in a way that has you whimpering into him.

He pulls away slightly and you chase his lips with a soft keen of protest. Fernando chuckles darkly, nosing along your jaw.

“Patience, pequeña,” he rumbles against the sensitive skin just below your ear. “As sweet as that gorgeous mouth is, there are so many other parts of you I’ve been longing to taste ...”

A full-body shudder wracks you at his words, at the sheer need and promise lacing his tone. Part of you is stunned by how quickly the atmosphere between you has shifted, how easily you fell into his passionate embrace.

But a much larger part — the part that has admired and idolized this man since you were knee-high — is utterly intoxicated. Delirious with the knowledge that the love you’ve secretly harbored for Fernando for years is, impossibly, reciprocated.

His mouth is trailing hot, openmouthed kisses along the column of your throat and you tilt your head back with a wanton moan, reveling in the rasp of his day-old stubble against your sensitized skin.

“N-Nando ...” You try to put a protesting note in your voice, but it comes out a pleading whine instead. “Are you sure about this? I’m … I’m just a kid to you.”

He rears back to pin you with a look so full of naked want it makes you squirm. “You stopped being a kid a long time ago, pequeña,” he growls. “I’ve been watching you grow into this gorgeous, fiery woman and it’s taken everything in me not to take you into my arms like this until now.”

His hands roam down to palm your waist, fingers flexing possessively against the dip of your sides. You’re breathless, dizzy, wondering if you’ve stumbled into some incredible, wildly realistic dream.

Because surely this — with your longtime crush, the older man you’ve harbored forbidden fantasies about pulling you flush against his strong frame and lavishing kisses up the side of your neck — cannot be real. Can it?

“It’s real, pequeña. So, so real,” Fernando croons, as if reading your mind. He frames your face again, searing you with another passionate kiss that steals your breath and chases away any remaining doubts. “Feel how real it is,” he murmurs, guiding your hands down to the firm evidence of his arousal straining against the soft denim.

You whimper into his mouth, tentatively palming the thick bulge. Fernando hisses in a sharp breath through his teeth and breaks the kiss to press his forehead to yours. His eyes are tightly shut, long lashes fanning across sunkissed skin.

“F-fuck, pequeña,” he chokes out in a ragged voice. “Been dreaming of those little hands on me for years.”

Something inside you shifts at his confession, like a dam of long repressed want and need cracking open. You suddenly feel bolder, empowered by the effect you’re having on this man — this god among men who you’ve put on a pedestal for so long.

Maintaining heated eye contact, you slowly drag your hand up the length of his erection in one firm stroke that has Fernando’s hips jerking up as he curses vehemently in Spanish.

“Like this?” You rasp, a blatant challenge in your tone as you repeat the motion.

Fernando’s eyes flash hungrily and then he’s surging forward again, capturing your lips in another punishing kiss that leaves you lightheaded and alight with lust.

“Just like that, mi amor,” he growls when he releases your mouth with a final nip at your lower lip. “Now it’s my turn to cherish you ...”

With that, he loops an arm behind your knees and rises in one smooth, powerful motion, hoisting you up into a secure bridal carry. You yelp in surprise, hands flying up to cling to his broad shoulders.

“Nando! What are you, mmph-”

Your protest is cut off by his mouth slanting over yours in another heated kiss. Fernando maneuvers you easily as he starts carrying you towards the staircase, hiking your dainty linen dress up around your thighs.

“I’m making good on my promise, pequeña,” he murmurs hotly against your swollen lips. “Bedroom. Now. Going to lay you out and cherish every sweet inch of that gorgeous body, just like you deserve.”

Unbidden, a soft whine slips from your throat at his heated words. You tighten your grip on his shoulders, fingers digging into the firm muscle there as a fresh wave of arousal floods through you, hot and insistent.

Fernando chuckles darkly, adjusting his grip on you as he starts up the stairs. “That’s it, let me hear how much you want this too.”

You open your mouth to respond but only a needy whine escapes as Fernando hitches you higher in his arms, the movement causing delicious friction against your core.

“I want, ngh-” Your words dissolve into another needy noise as Fernando nips at the juncture of your neck and shoulder in reprimand.

“Use your words, pequeña,” he rumbles against your tingling skin. “Tell me what you want.”

You don’t have a chance to reply before he’s kicking open a door and striding into what must be the bedroom, depositing you gently onto the plush center of an enormous bed. Fernando looms over you, chest heaving as he rakes his heated gaze over your prone form in a way that makes you shudder.

“Nando, I … I want you,” you finally manage, fighting past your shyness to meet his burning stare. “Want you to cherish me, cherish every part of me, like you promised.”

Fernando’s eyes darken further at your words and he slowly, purposefully begins lifting his sweater, never looking away from you.

“Good girl,” he praises in that deep, gruff tone that has your thighs pressing together instinctively. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

He shrugs off the soft knit, revealing a toned, hair-dusted chest and abdominal muscles carved from years of intense athletic training. You can’t help but drink in the display of his powerful body as he reaches for the buckle of his belt.

Fernando doesn’t miss your frank appraisal, a cocky smirk tugging at his full lips. “Like what you see, pequeña?”

You bite your lip and give a small, shameless nod. His grin widens and with a few deft flicks of his wrist, Fernando’s belt is undone and sliding free of its loops. You watch, rapt, as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans and boxer briefs in one smooth motion.

“Then no more teasing,” he promises in a low, heated rasp. “Tonight you’ll have as much of me as you can handle.”

With that, Fernando pushes his trousers and underwear down over his hips in one go, springing free in all his thick, flushed glory. Your eyes widen and you suck in a sharp breath at the sheer size of him, mouth going dry with naked want.

Fernando steps forward until he’s standing at the edge of the mattress, gloriously nude and incredibly aroused. He crouches down, bringing himself eye-level with your flushed face as he reaches out to gently take your hands in his calloused grip.

“Are you sure, pequeña?” He searches your gaze intently. “Because once I claim you, mark you as mine in every way … there’s no going back. I won’t ever let you go.”

His raw confession hangs in the heated air between you. You meet Fernando’s fiery gaze without faltering, threading your fingers through his in silent acceptance. His eyes blaze and then he’s surging up over you, capturing your mouth in another searing, all-consuming kiss as he slowly, reverently hikes your dress up and divests you of your last remaining garments.

You wind your arms around his thick neck, holding him close as Fernando settles between your splayed thighs with a low, guttural groan. He rears back just enough to pin you with another scorching look, stealing your breath.

“You’re mine now, pequeña,” he vows roughly, guiding his thick length to your slick entrance. “And I’m going to spend all night cherishing this sweet body, just like you deserve ...”

Fernando braces himself above you with one powerful forearm, using his free hand to grip your thigh and hitch your leg higher around his lean hips. You keen softly as the new angle allows him to sink even deeper, filling you up so deliciously.

He drops his forehead to yours, dark eyes locked on your parted lips as he starts rocking into you with slow, measured strokes. Each deliberate grind of his pelvis against yours has you whimpering, nails raking down the flexing planes of his back.

“That’s it, pequeña,” Fernando croons, punctuating his words with a sharp roll of his hips that has you crying out. “Let me hear how good I’m making you feel.”

You try to muffle your sounds against his broad shoulder, but Fernando isn’t having it. He slides the hand not braced on the mattress up to cup the back of your neck, tilting your head so your mouths are a hairsbreadth apart.

“No, no … I want to hear every gorgeous, needy little noise,” he rumbles, lips brushing yours with each scorching word. “Want to hear you begging for more of my cock, stretching you so perfectly ...”

A desperate whine slips free at his filthy words, your walls fluttering around his rigid length in defiant response. Fernando rewards you by capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his talented tongue teasing against yours as he picks up the pace of his thrusts.

You moan brokenly into his mouth, legs locking around his narrow waist as Fernando sets a rhythm of steady, pounding strokes. Each slick glide has you building higher and higher, pleasure bordering on overwhelming. It’s so much after so much time without, yet somehow not enough.

You tear your lips from his with a ragged gasp, throwing your head back against the pillows. “M-More, Nando! Please … ah!”

Fernando grunts in approval at your needy plea, hips snapping forward to bury himself deeper. “As you wish, pequeña ...”

He sits up further on his knees, using the new leverage to drive into you with increased force and intensity. The lewd noises of your joining fill the air — skin slapping against skin, your cries of pleasure mingling with Fernando’s low groans of exertion.

Part of you feels like you should be embarrassed by the wanton sounds spilling from your lips. But a much bigger part is just reveling in the indescribable feeling of being taken apart so thoroughly by this incredible man’s skilled body.

Fernando hooks an arm under one of your knees, nearly bending you in half as he leans down to mouth hot, openmouthed kisses from your collarbone up the slender column of your throat. You keen wildly, fingers spasming against the rippling muscles of his back.

“Do you want it harder, pequeña?” He growls the filthy words against the racing pulse point under your jaw. “Want Papi to fuck you just like the needy little girl you are?”

A choked whimper is all you can manage in response, rendered incoherent by his merciless onslaught against that sensitive cluster of nerves deep inside you.

Fernando’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk against the side of your neck and then he’s driving into you with renewed vigor, hips pistoning in short, brutally powerful snaps that quickly have you keening. Your nails leave stinging welts in their wake as they drag down Fernando’s glistening shoulders and back, but he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

“That’s it, taking me so well,” he grits out through clenched teeth, each word punctuated by a nasty grind of his hips that has you crying out. “Such a good girl for Papi, con esas caderas tan estrechas ...”

His dirty Spanish murmurs nearly do you in, shooting white-hot sparks of pleasure-pain arcing across your nerve endings. You swear your vision nearly whites out entirely when his calloused fingers find your swollen bud, stroking firmly in tight, rapid circles that have you keening.

That familiar, coiling tension is rapidly becoming too much to bear. You can feel your orgasm fast approaching, building and building with each punishing thrust into your greedy little hole and stroke against that hypersensitive bundle of nerves.

“Nando, Nando,” you pant, clutching desperately at his flexing biceps as your thighs begin to tremble uncontrollably. “I’m gonna, ah, fuck, I can’t-”

Fernando’s response is a series of harsh Spanish curses that would make a sailor blush. His mouth crashes against yours in a searing, messy kiss, swallowing your cries as he fucks you right through your release.

Wave after relentless wave of excruciating ecstasy crashes over you. You tremble and wail into Fernando’s mouth, pulled taut as a bowstring as he milks every last exquisite pulse from you with those sharp, unforgiving snaps of his hips.

Just when you think the pleasure searing along every nerve ending will break you into pieces, Fernando’s rhythm falters. He rears back, baring his teeth in a feral snarl that sends a fresh shock of desire arrowing straight to your core.

“Going to fill you up now, pequeña,” he grits out in a gravelly tone laced with strain. “Make you nice and, ah mierda, messy with Papi’s cum ...”

The sheer filth of his words, combined with his furious tempo draws animalistic whimpers from deep in your chest. You lock your ankles at the small of his back, taking him deeper as he starts to lose control.

“Please, Nando!” You beg shamelessly, reaching up to dig your fingers into the straining chords of muscle in his back and shoulders. “Please cum inside me, wanna be yours, wanna-”

Fernando cuts off your fervent cries with a harsh growl and then he’s slamming home one final time, burying himself to the hilt as he spills molten heat deep in your convulsing channel with a stream of strained Spanish curses.

You shudder and cry out at the incredible sensation of being filled so completely, holding him flush to you while he pulses and throbs. Fernando captures your lips in another searing kiss, fucking his tongue into your mouth in time with the shallow rolls of his hips as he spends himself.

Just when you think the incredible intensity of his release will never end, the shrill trill of a ringtone shatters the sweaty, panting silence of the bedroom.

Fernando goes rigid above you, finally breaking the fevered kiss with a curse that shoots straight to your over-sensitized core.

“Fucking hell, now?”

His tone is one of pure annoyance as his darkly tousled head whips towards the nightstand where his mobile is ringing incessantly. One large hand flexes against the sheets beside your head, ready to simply ignore the call.

Until, that is, he sees the caller ID and his entire demeanor shifts from one of irritation to something more sheepish. He immediately sits up on his haunches, the movement tugging at your overstuffed, abused entrance in the most delicious way and drawing a helpless whimper from you.

Fernando fixes you with a heated look, plush lower lip caught between his teeth as he drinks in your disheveled, satisfied state sprawled wantonly across his rumpled sheets. Only then does he make a sudden, aborted movement to grab the still-ringing phone, gaze flickering down to where you’re obscenely joined.

“Don’t you dare pull out,” you pant in warning, clenching down hard around him as he shifts to reach for the mobile. Fernando groans explosively at the vice-like grip, arm falling back to brace himself against the mattress.

“Insatiable,” he accuses with a dark chuckle. He somehow manages to snag the still-trilling phone without dislodging himself and you shamelessly squeeze down even tighter in petty retaliation. Fernando tosses you a smoldering glare that makes heat lick along your nerve endings before he finally answers.

“Hola?” His deep voice is rougher than usual, gravelly from the thoroughly ravished state you’ve put him in.

“Fernando! Mate, it’s me.” Your father’s crisp Aussie tone immediately filters through the speaker and you inadvertently clench down again in panic.

Fernando’s lips peel back in a mild wince before smoothing back into that trademark smug grin of his. He drops his free hand to splay possessively over your lower abdomen, thumb rubbing idle circles into the soft, oversensitized skin there as he regards you with dark, hooded eyes.

“Mark!” He greets your father with forced nonchalance, even as the pads of his calloused fingers dip dangerously close to where you’re still intimately joined. “What can I do for you?”

There’s a pregnant pause during which you can practically picture the slight frown creasing your dad’s brow at Fernando’s strange tone. “Er, sorry to bother you, Nando. I was just ringing to see if my daughter made it to you alright?”

You suck in a sharp breath, eyes going wide as Fernando’s lips quirk up in a devilish smirk. Instead of answering right away, he drags the tip of one finger agonizingly slowly through your damp curls in a wordless warning.

Biting your lip to stifle a moan, you obediently stop clenching your internal muscles, allowing Fernando to sink that few extra incredible inches back inside you with a roll of his hips. His eyes burn with smug satisfaction when you keen softly at the feeling of being so deliciously full.

“She arrived safe and sound,” Fernando finally replies, voice gone low and rough in a way that has your thighs trying to clench instinctively. He holds you open by digging the heel of his palm against your mound, lips twitching when you whimper. “I’m taking very … very good care of her. You don’t need to worry.”

Another pause from your father’s end, this one even longer. You can picture the perplexed furrow in his brow deepening as he tries to figure out the strange undercurrent in Fernando’s tone.

“Right … well, good then. I just wanted to check in and make sure she got there okay after that whole mess with her asshole of an ex.”

You shudder at the memory, hips shifting restlessly against Fernando’s calloused palm in a plea for friction, pressure, anything. He simply watches you squirm with darkly glittering eyes, lazily rubbing his thumb in soothing little circles just below your navel.

“Trust me,” Fernando finally rumbles, voice gone low and graveled in a way that sends a shiver of desire arcing down your spine. “Your little girl is being very well looked after, in every way.”

Your cheeks burn hot at the blatant innuendo lacing his words. Fernando’s smirk widens, like he enjoys seeing you so flustered, before he continues in a tone of exaggerated innocence. “She’s been … quite the handful, really, but I don’t mind.”

Your breath hitches in your throat and you shoot him a betrayed look, clenching reflexively around the thick length still sheathed snugly inside you. Fernando arches one artfully sculpted brow as if in challenge, using his free hand to firmly grip one of your thighs and wrench your legs obscenely further apart in clear retaliation.

You muffle a whimper into the sheets as the new position allows him to grind deeper, that delicious friction quickly unraveling your will to stay quiet. You can already feel the coil of need building rapidly once more with each shallow roll of Fernando’s hips.

“What was that?” Your dad’s mildly bewildered voice suddenly crackles over the line, jarring you back to the reality of the situation.

Cheeks burning with a mixture of arousal and mortification, you blindly grasp for one of the pillows to muffle the series of pitiful noises now spilling past your lips as Fernando ups the intensity of his thrusts.

He leans in closer until the two of you are practically nose-to-nose, teeth sinking into that plush lower lip when you instinctively tighten around him like a velvet vise. Fernando’s eyes roll back briefly before fixing back on you, dark and fathomless as the depths of the Mediterranean.

“Nothing to worry about over here,” he pants through gritted teeth, one hand leaving its bruising grip on your thigh to curl around the back of your neck and pull you into a searing, filthy kiss designed to swallow any incriminating sounds. “Like I said. Just … taking very good care of your little girl.”

There’s one final confused little hum from your father before the line clicks off with a hollow beep. Fernando instantly drops the phone and slants his mouth hungrily over yours once more, all thoughts of the call instantly forgotten as he resumes fucking up into you with renewed vigor.

“My little girl, aren’t you pequeña?” He grates against your lips, punctuating each word with a scorching grind of his hips that has sparks bursting behind your eyelids. “Going to be a good girl and cum all over Papi’s cock again, sí?”

You can only nod wildly in agreement, nails raking down his broad back as that incredible tension inside you winds tighter and tighter. Fernando swallows your cries with his wicked, talented mouth, until finally you go rigid in his arms, back arched as your release rockets through you like a shockwave.

This time Fernando doesn’t even attempt to stifle your hoarse, animalistic keening, merely rearing back to watch in fascination as your complexion colors and your eyes roll back. He growls your name like a prayer, hips snapping erratically as he uses your convulsive flutters to chase his own high. Fernando’s chiseled features contort in pleasure, teeth sinking into his own lip hard enough to draw blood when you bear down with the vise-like strength of your release.

“F-Fuck … gonna … gonna fill you up again,” he grits out, thick cock jerking deep inside your molten depths. “Make you … gonna ah … make you mine forever this time, pequeña ...”

The gravelly promise in his tone somehow penetrates the sweaty, lust-hazed cocoon surrounding you. Your eyes fly open just in time to witness Fernando’s own clenched shut, jaw dropped in a growl as he buries himself to the hilt with one final, bruising grind of his pelvis.

You cry out at the incredible sensation of his release flooding your already stuffed channel with scorching ropes of thick seed. Fernando lets out a shuddering moan of pure gratification, hips working in short, shallow thrusts to pump every last pulse of his sticky essence into your greedy little womb.

When the last tremor of his climax has wrung through him, he drops bonelessly on top of you in a sweaty, panting tangle of sated limbs. You whimper quietly at the delicious feeling of his weight pinning you to the mattress, his softening length still lodged snugly inside as the two of you bask in the afterglow.

Fernando nuzzles into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, pressing lazy, opened-mouthed kisses to your slick, overheated skin. His talented fingers trace abstract patterns up and down your sides, touch reverent as his gravelly voice rumbles against you.

“Going to get you nice and full, pequeña. Fill you up again and again until my baby takes ...”

A violent shudder wracks through you at the filthy promise in his words. Fernando chuckles darkly, gathering you closer against his sweat-slicked chest as his hand drifts down to cup your lower abdomen with tender possessiveness.

“That’s it, let it sink in,” he croons, fingertips rubbing in gentle circles. “My seed taking root deep inside this sweet little womb, putting a baby in your belly ...”

He punctuates the words with a firm press of his palm that has you gasping, walls fluttering greedily around the thick shaft still impaling you. Fernando makes a noise of deep approval low in his throat.

“Going to keep you just like this,” he vows in a tone that brooks no argument, hot and heavy against the sensitive shell of your ear. “Barefoot and pregnant in my bed, that gorgeous body swollen and glowing with my hijo ...”

You whimper at the image his words conjure up — your belly rounded and stretched taut with Fernando’s child, heavy breasts leaking as you cradle his son or daughter. Fernando husks out a laugh at your reaction, nosing along the line of your jaw until you meet his heated gaze.

“You like that idea, don’t you pequeña?” His eyes glitter with a mixture of desire and predatory satisfaction. “Being tied to me forever, in the most permanent way possible?”

You can only nod dumbly, suddenly rendered mute by the depths of your own yearning. Of course you want that — to carry this incredible man’s legacy inside you for all the world to see. To belong to him, completely.

Fernando rumbles his approval against your swollen lips, cupping the back of your head to angle your mouth for a tender, lingering kiss. When he finally breaks away, you try to chase his mouth with a breathless whimper of protest.

“Shh, patience, pequeña,” he murmurs indulgently, thumb stroking over your slick lower lip. His eyes are dancing with dark promise. “You’ll have plenty of time to take your fill of me in the coming months while I breed you over ...”

He kisses the words into the hollow of your throat, teeth grazing the rapid flutter of your pulse point.

“... and over ...” Fernando rolls you onto your back in one smoothly powerful motion, settling his weight over you as he lips trail a blazing path down your abdomen.

“... and over again.” His tongue dips briefly into your navel before he nuzzles lower, nose nudging through your damp curls until his warm breath ghosts over your overstimulated sex. You suck in a ragged gasp, thighs trembling with anticipation as Fernando glances up at you from under those ridiculously long lashes.

“Until it finally takes,” he finishes with a wicked grin before ducking down to swipe one firm lick through your folds. You nearly black out from the electric shock of pleasure-pain, broken cries echoing through the bedroom as Fernando sets to work thoroughly mapping every intimate inch of you with that devilishly skilled mouth and tongue.

True to his filthy promise, Fernando keeps you until the first rosy hints of dawn are just beginning to lighten the horizon outside, thoroughly ravishing your helpless body over and over again until you’re boneless and incoherent with satiation.

It’s only when the first few birds have begun to chirp their morning songs that he finally relents, blanketing you with his solid weight one last time. Fernando’s lips are kiss-swollen as they trail up the line of your throat to find yours in one more long, thorough kiss that leaves you totally plundered.

“Sleep now, pequeña,” he rumbles against your parted mouth, gathering you close as his hand drifts down to splay possessively over the slight tautness of your lower abdomen. “Let my release take nice and deep inside you ...”

You slip into unconsciousness to the sensation of Fernando’s calloused fingertips rubbing soothing circles over your skin and the imprinted promise of his low, sleep-roughened vows.

“I’m going to put a baby in you, pequeña. Going to breed you so full of my children until you’re round and glowing with them … that’s a promise.”

***

Six Months Later

Fernando can’t keep the swell of pride and possessiveness from blooming in his chest as he guides you through the paddock with a supportive hand on the small of your back. His dark gaze keeps flickering down to admire the swell of your belly peeking out beneath the flowing summer dress you’ve chosen for today.

He feels like a conquering king surveying his latest prize as you waddle adorably at his side, the golden sunlight caressing your features and lending a rosy flush to your glowing complexion. Fernando has never seen a more beautiful, ethereal sight than you in this moment — rounded with his child, your body transformed by the life blossoming within.

His hand subconsciously moves to cup the subtle curve of your belly as you pause to allow a team member to pass. Fernando feels a fresh surge of scorching desire and smug satisfaction race through his veins when you instinctively cover his hand with yours, cradling his palm against the taut swell.

“Easy there, pequeña,” he rumbles with a wolfish grin, leaning in until his lips brush the delicate shell of your ear. “We’re in public, remember? Wouldn’t want to give these pendejos an eyeful of how insaciable my little girl has become since getting knocked up ...”

A delightful shiver visibly ripples through you at his words, those gorgeous eyes fluttering shut for the briefest of moments before fixed back on him blown wide and dark with rekindled want. Fernando lets out a low chuckle of approval, arm winding around your waist to pull you flush against his side.

Just then, a familiar figure comes striding around the corner, brows low and thunderous as they zero in on the embrace Fernando has you locked in. Mark Webber falters mid-step as he takes in the rather obvious changes to your body, chin dropping in a comical picture of dumbstruck shock.

Fernando can’t resist angling the two of you forward just enough to emphasize the prominent curve of your belly straining against the flowy fabric of your summer dress. He watches your father’s expression morph from surprise, to confusion, then slowly … realization as the pieces begin to click into place.

Within seconds, Mark’s eyes have narrowed to slits of rage, mouth curling back in a snarl of anger as he picks up his pace and stalks towards the pair of you. Fernando’s own smug expression slips, features settling into a hard mask as he angles his body slightly in front of yours on instinct.

“You motherfucking piece of shit-” Your father snarls, face taking on an alarming reddish hue as he rears back and swings at Fernando.

Fernando manages to sidestep the worst of the blow at the last second, feeling only a glancing impact against his left cheekbone before Mark closes in again with balled fists raised. Behind him, you let out a strangled cry of dismay, reaching out helplessly to grasp at the back of his shirt.

“Dad, no! Fernando, please-”

But Fernando is already sinking into a fighting stance, knees slightly bent and weight evenly distributed. He blocks another wild swing from Mark with ease, allowing the Australian’s momentum to carry him past so Fernando can land a swift, open-handed punch against the side of his head.

The sharp retaliatory crack has Mark stumbling sideways, snarling like an enraged animal. For one brief, wildly intense moment, the two former rivals simply square off — sizing one another up like they’ve done a hundred times before on various circuits when they were both still competing.

From anyone else, Fernando might have been able to laugh off this overreaction, shrug it aside as the misguided anger of a hotblooded father learning his young daughter is now expecting. But this is Mark Webber — a man who has proven himself as fiery and formidable an opponent as they come.

Fernando won’t admit it aloud, but a tiny thrill of excitement races through him at the prospect of a proper throwdown with his old nemesis turned friend. He throws you a quick glance over his shoulder, assessing if he needs to move you further away before the situation escalates.

You surprise him by shaking your head adamantly, those beautiful eyes blazing with protective fury of your own as you plant yourself squarely in between the two men.

“Fernando, don’t hurt him,” you plead, gaze flickering between him and the bristling Aussie now clambering back to his feet. “He’s just-”

“Being a bloody psychopathic bastard,” Mark spits, wiping a hand across his rapidly swelling lip. His hateful glare lands accusingly on the prominent swell of your middle. “Fucking hell , Nando. She’s just a kid-”

Fernando feels his own temper ratcheting up several notches at the venom and dismissal lacing the other man’s tone. He takes an aggressive step forward, forcing you back behind the shield of his powerful frame.

“Don’t talk about her like she isn’t here to defend herself,” Fernando growls, unconcerned that they’re rapidly drawing an audience from the swarm of crew personnel surrounding them.

He arches a challenging brow at your father’s scathing glower. “What’s wrong? Upset that while you were off galivanting around the globe, I was putting a baby in your daughter’s belly?”

Mark lets out an outraged roar, lurching forward to throw another wild haymaker that Fernando easily ducks under. You cry out in distress, hands coming up to grip at Fernando’s biceps from behind as you try to bodily pull him away from the furious Australian’s reach.

“Both of you, stop!” Your shrill voice cuts through the tense alleyway, causing both men to pause for a split-second and glance towards you. “Nando, don’t provoke him! And you-” You aim an accusatory finger at your seething father. “Lay one more hand on Fernando and I swear to god-”

Whatever heated threat you were preparing goes unvoiced as a sudden aura of pain visibly ripples across your features, brow furrowing and lips parting on a pained gasp. Your hands instinctively fly down to cradle your belly, entire body locking up with tension.

Fernando’s heart leaps into his throat as he recognizes the clear signs of distress from months spent doting upon your every subtle twinge and discomfort. Immediately, his previous temper fades into a dull, distant roar easily overshadowed by the all-consuming need to ensure your well-being.

“Pequeña?” He’s at your side in an instant, gripping your upper arms to steady you as a light sheen of perspiration blooms on your brow. “Breathe through it, mi amor … just breathe, okay?”

“I-I’m fine,” you manage in a tight voice. “Just a twinge. The excitement is probably too mu-ahh!”

You gasp again, nails digging punishingly into Fernando’s forearms as your knees threaten to buckle. All hints of masculine posturing flee his mind as Fernando smoothly sweeps you up into a secure bridal carry, heedless of the soft whimpers of discomfort now trickling past your parted lips.

He locks eyes with a stunned Mark over your bent crown, gaze impassive and steady. “You heard her. The excitement is too much. We’re leaving.”

Without waiting for a response, Fernando swivels on his heel and marches back the way you’d originally come with you cradled protectively against his chest. He keeps his strides measured and unhurried, but still manages to put a fair amount of distance between the pair of you and your father’s petulant anger in a matter of moments.

Once you’ve rounded a quiet corner alcove, Fernando gently lowers you to a relatively secluded stack of equipment crates, bracing your lower back and guiding you into a seated position.

“Wait here,” he murmurs against your hairline, dropping a fleeting kiss to the rapidly dampening strands stuck to your brow. Fernando’s fingers ghost down to cradle your belly once more, silently assessing for any areas of increased tension. “I’ll be back in just a moment with some water and a physio, alright?”

You nod weakly, squirming to rest back against the cool metal behind you as another pained grimace flits across your features. Fernando feels his heart clench at the wretched, lost expression clouding your eyes.

Cupping your cheek, he tilts your chin up until you meet his heated gaze. “Don’t look so afraid, pequeña. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”

Fernando leans in until his nose brushes against yours, allowing the familiar closeness and the scent of his cedar and bergamot cologne to soothe you. “Our little one is just reminding us who’s boss, that’s all. But Papi’s here … I’ll take care of both of you, sí?”

You manage a weak smile at that, some of the tension bleeding from your delicate features as you nod against his palm. Fernando presses one more lingering kiss to your brow before reluctantly pulling away.

“I’ll be right back, mi vida. Just breathe deeply for me in the meantime.”

With one final reassuring caress to your belly, Fernando turns on his heel and strides back out into the bustling paddock area. His jaw is set in a tense line, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he mentally catalogs which team staff he needs to track down.

Rounding a corner, Fernando very nearly barrels straight into the rigid form of your father standing there with arms crossed, clearly waiting to waylay him. The Aussie’s expression is thunderous, eyes blazing with hurt and undisguised fury.

“So that’s it then?” Mark bites out in a tone of barely restrained aggression. “You’ve gone and knocked up my little girl. My own daughter, Nando ...”

Fernando holds up a dismissive hand, in no mood to allow your father’s misplaced anger to provoke another confrontation — not when you’re so clearly in distress. “Don’t start with me again.” His tone is low, brooking no argument. “Your daughter is safe and being well looked after, that’s all that matters right now.”

With that, he moves to sidestep around Mark, only to find his path blocked by the other man’s broad chest as he steps directly into Fernando’s space. The former World Champion narrows his eyes warningly, feeling his temper ratcheting back up in the face of such insolence.

“Look, you arrogant Spanish prick,” Mark growls, lips peeling back in a menacing sneer. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing here, but-”

Fernando abruptly cuts him off with a harsh bark of humorless laughter, dark eyes glittering dangerously. “A game?” He shakes his head slowly, expression one of vaguely disbelieving contempt. “You really think that’s all this is to me? Getting one up on you by deflowering your little girl and leaving her pregnant, alone, and disgraced?”

The other man flinches almost imperceptibly at the crass words, clearly thrown by Fernando’s frank disdain. The Spaniard presses on relentlessly. “Any man who would treat a situation like this so flippantly doesn’t deserve to consider themselves a real man at all — let alone a father.”

Mark’s face has turned an alarming shade of puce, whether from shame or sheer unchecked rage Fernando neither knows nor cares. He simply crowds further into the Australian’s space, heedless of how their chests nearly brush with each harsh exhalation.

“Make no mistake, I love that woman and the child she carries more than life itself,” Fernando states with conviction, cadence low and gravelly. “If you’re asking whether I intend to be there for them both as a partner, as a father … my answer is simple.”

He pauses just long enough to allow the weight of his next words to truly sink in.

“For as long as your daughter and my children will have me, you couldn’t pry me away from their sides with a fucking crowbar.”

Fernando holds your father’s seething gaze for one final beat, satisfaction lancing through him at seeing the other man seemingly robbed of his righteous anger. With a curt nod, he finally moves to brush past the speechless Australian without another word —intent on fetching the physio like he had originally set out to do.

Because in the end, Mark Webber’s approval means less than nothing to Fernando. All that matters is rushing back to your side and ensuring your safety and comfort. You and the new life blossoming within you are his entire world now.

As if to reaffirm the point, you suddenly appear around the corner, one hand braced protectively under the swell of your abdomen.

“Nando,” you breathe in a tremulous voice, blindly reaching for him. “The little one misses you ...”

Fernando instantly abandons all thoughts of confronting Mark, or retrieving a physio, or anything else as he rushes to gather you up in his arms once more. He cradles you tenderly to his chest as your fingers twist almost convulsively in the fabric of his Hugo Boss shirt, dark eyes wide and pleading.

Fernando glances down at you cradled protectively in his arms, heart clenching at the distressed furrow of your brow and shallow, panting breaths.

Readjusting his grip, he dips his head to murmur a string of soothing Spanish endearments against your sweat-dampened hairline as he carries you through the winding labyrinth of the paddock. His strides are measured but purposeful, not rushing — he needs to get you somewhere quiet and comfortable to recover from the ordeal.

Finally, Fernando spots a secluded alcove tucked away behind a cluster of tires. He quickly guides you over and gently lowers you onto an emptied workbench, cocooning you against his broad chest.

“There, there, pequeña,” he croons, lips brushing your brow. “Just breathe nice and deep for Papi, just like we practiced ...”

You nod weakly, fingers reflexively flexing against the solid planes of Fernando’s abdomen as you struggle to pull in deep gulps of air. He deftly tugs the neckline of your summer dress aside to expose more of your flushed skin, using the hem to dab away the perspiration beading on your chest and throat.

“That’s it, mi vida,” he praises in that dark, soothing timbre. “Just like that, easy does it ...”

Slowly, the tension bleeds from your features as the worst of the discomfort subsides. Fernando doesn’t dare loosen his supportive embrace, nor does he tear his increasingly heated gaze away from your parted lips as each measured exhale puffs across his skin.

“Better now?” He murmurs, thumb tracing the delicate arch of your cheekbone reverently. A rosy blush stains your complexion when you nod meekly, lashes fanning across those glorious cheekbones.

“Good girl,” Fernando rumbles, helpless not to drink in the gorgeous picture you make — cheeks flushed, lips swollen, eyes glazed with lingering stardust. He grips your jaw in a firm caress, tilting your chin up until your gazes lock.

“Because I must admit,” he husks softly, gaze darkening to molten whiskey. “Seeing you like this, with my child safe inside you … has me feeling quite possessive, pequeña.”

You shudder visibly at his words, tongue darting out to wet those plump lips in a blatant show of want. Fernando doesn’t miss the subtle gesture, allowing his gaze to dip briefly to track the slick path your tongue carves before fixing back on your rapidly dilating pupils.

“Would you like that, hmm?” He lowers his voice to a sensual rumble, skimming his thumb across your lower lip in a wordless command for access. “Having Papi show you just how adored, how cherished you and our little one inside you truly are?”

A whimper catches in the back of your throat as you readily accept the gentle press of Fernando’s calloused digit between your parted lips. Your eyes flutter shut on a trembling exhale as he slowly begins to glide the thick pad of his thumb across that heavenly softness, careful not to scrape the sensitive skin with his nail.

“That’s it, pequeña,” he growls, a tad hoarse as desire visibly burns behind those long lashes. “Suckle for me, let me take care of you both nice and proper ...”

Fernando rocks forward ever so slightly, allowing the swollen curve of your belly to brush against his solid abs with each tiny shuddering breath you drag in through your nose. He keeps up the lazy, hypnotic strokes of his thumb until you’re completely transfixed — hips shifting restlessly against his thighs and soft, muffled mewls escaping past the seal of your swollen lips.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, voice pitched low enough to rasp straight through you and ignite every raw nerve ending. “So sweet and responsive for Papi … going to reward that gorgeous little mouth in just a moment, I promise.”

You whine wantonly around his thumb in response, eyes fluttering back open to reveal pupils blown wide with naked yearning. Fernando chuckles indulgently, thumb tracing the delicate bow of your lower lip one final time before retreating fully.

“So eager,” he tuts without any real admonishment. Leaning in close, he angles his head to brush kiss-swollen lips against the outer shell of your ear. “Don’t fret, pequeña. I’ll take such good care of both of you right here, right now ...”

Fernando drops a lingering series of kisses along the line of your jaw, letting his lush mouth trail lower and lower with each heated murmur.

“Will remind you exactly who you belong to … who made you … who put this child in your belly ...”

His final words are an exhale ghosting out across your thundering pulse. Fernando immediately latches on with his teeth, nipping and sucking a series of stinging, possessive marks into your sensitized flesh that has you arching against him with a strangled cry of pure bliss.

Out here, cloaked in the shadow of the paddock where anyone could stumble across the two of you — your father included — and discover just how thoroughly Fernando has claimed you. The taboo thrill of it all is utterly intoxicating.

As your trembling fingers find purchase in his clothes, dragging him nearer with insistence, Fernando feels that familiar molten lick of possessive pride unfurl deep in his core. You are his now, fully and completely — mind, body, and soon … family.

Just the way it was always meant to be.

ɢᴜɪᴛᴀʀ ʟᴇꜱꜱᴏɴꜱ

pairing(s): Sebastian Vettel x male! reader

warning(s): fluff! fluff! fluff! (no surprise angst... i promise)

(a/n): seb and reader are way youngerrrr in this (around late teens) you can think of this as college au! just wanted to write a little something

!not proofread!

"Teach me that," Sebastian blurts out. He was sitting on a bean bag in the corner of your room, reading a book. "Hm?" you look up, "What? Guitar?"

He nods, raising his head to look at you. You quirk a brow, a little surprised by his sudden interest. Your heart warms at his simple request. Your boyfriend probably didn't even realise how his interest in your hobby affected you.

You smile at him. "Come here," you gesture him over. You were sitting on your bed, lazily playing some random tune on your guitar. 

You prop up the pillows properly, leaning against them as Sebastian comes near the bed. He just stood there awkwardly, not knowing where to sit. You laugh at him; with that sharp tongue of his, you forget that he can be cute as well (sometimes).

You pat the space between your legs, a shit-eating grin plastered on your face. He just gives you a 'are you serious' look in return. "Come on. Whatcha waiting for?" you say, a cheeky smile still present on your face.

He rolls his eyes, slowly sitting down, making sure you don't pull some stupid shit on him. He leans on you, his back to your chest, making himself comfortable. You curl an arm around his waist, pulling him closer to you. 

He gives you an accusing look. "What?" you say, feigning a confused look. "How else am I supposed to teach you?" that smile said otherwise.

You place the guitar on his thigh, guiding his hand towards its neck. You put his fingers in position, before slowly plucking the strings. You pass on the pick to him, letting him do the same. 

A smile makes its way onto his face, his eyes glued to the guitar. You rest your head on his shoulder, your own eyes glued to him. You teach him a different note, helping him where he needed help.

You lean down, placing a small peck on his neck. It seems to have taken him by surprise because he accidentally plucked the wrong string. The tips of his ears burn red when he feels you smiling against his skin. 

He slaps your leg, a (fake) scowl on his face. "Don't do that," he says, and the way he did reminded you of an angry cat. "Sorry," you chuckle, placing a kiss on the side of his head. He looks at you from the corner of his eyes, you did not look sorry.

The rest of your evening was spent teaching Seb how to play the guitar (and shamelessly flirting with him).

---

++ Bonus ++

"I shouldn't have let you play for that long. It was your first day too," you murmur against his shoulder. Lifting up your head, you move to rest it on your pillow, the lower half of your body thrown lazily across his.

You reach for his hand. He lets you. Bringing it between your bodies, you rub his knuckles softly with your thumb. "Sorry," you say as you bring his hand to your mouth, placing small kisses on his fingers. 

The both of you had lost track of time; you don't even remember how long the both of you were at it. You didn't see them before, but when Seb had cupped your face to kiss you, you could feel them all over your cheeks. The guitar strings had left blisters, and you felt really bad because you're the one who let him play for that long.

"Mmm..." Seb lets out a sleepy hum. He opens his eyes ever so slightly, moving his body, he lays on your bicep, using it as a pillow. "Love you." Seb didn't care about mundane things like blisters, they'll go away eventually, that moment you shared wouldn't.

You plant a kiss on the top of his head, closing your eyes and snuggling into him, "Love you more."

Chapter 24 - Loving Her was Red and Navy

Guys...it's time

“And that is p-” 

Your eyebrows scrunched as you couldn’t hear the rest of what Mitch had said on the radio. You pressed the button down, hoping to try to hear it once again. You had just completed your final quali lap for the Italian Grand Prix. It was definitely fast, but they don’t call it the Temple of Speed for nothing. 

“I’m sorry Mitch, the radio went out. What is my position?” 

“P-”

The radio scratched even worse than before. 

You pressed the button again. 

“P what? Mitch I’m sorry, I legit cannot understand you. I’ll see you in the garage?” 

The radio just kept crackling after that. You drove your car around the track once again before heading to the pits. Outside, you could see all the mechanics jumping up and down and the engineers hugging each other as your car got closer. 

Did Max get pole? You questioned to yourself. 

You guessed that they were super happy for not letting Ferrari be front row? You just wished you knew where you were starting today. Your car was parked and led into the garage. Multiple people were patting your helmet as you sat there, deactivating the steering wheel. 

Did you get P2? That had to be it. 

Once you were out of the car, you took your helmet off, eyebrows still scrunched as everyone was congratulating you. It was starting to weird you out, so you stepped out of the garage, trying to find your teammate. 

However, you passed by George and Lewis first. The taller Briton was smiling widely at you, which made your eyebrows pinch even more. 

George clapped you on the shoulder. “Great job out there! Congrats!” 

“So proud. You’re going to do great,” Lewis said as he gave you a side hug. 

“Uh, thank you?” 

You kept walking, trying to find Max, or maybe even Charles. 

Your wish was granted as you found the Dutchman and Monégasque, along with both papaya drivers. Their eyes were wide as you got closer. Lando almost bulldozed you over in a giant hug. Your hand patted his back as you were stiff, still not knowing what the hell was going on. 

Once Lando let you go, Max brought you into a side hug. Your hand patted his back in congrats. 

“Good job for pole mate.” You sipped your water. 

The four around you went eerily quiet. Your head cocked, looking around. 

“Everyone ok?” 

Your eyes flitted around the pit, while the men just stared. Your phone buzzed, but you only looked at the time and not the multiple posts and tags from Instagram and every other social media you had. 

Your eyes were still glued to the phone when you asked, “Can someone tell me what position I’m in? The radio on my car was super scratchy and I couldn’t hear Mitch.” 

Max was about to respond, but a random interviewer came up to the five of you. The group put on their camera smiles as the man began to ask the drivers questions. You were confused when the man didn’t ask anything about pole to Max when he brought up tomorrow’s race. Well, that was, until he turned to you. 

“How does it feel to have you first pole position?” 

The mic was shoved in your direction. Your face went blank and the world went silent. 

“What?” 

The man kind of rolled his eyes. “You have just become the youngest pole sitter in Formula 1 history. How are you feeling right now?” 

Your eyes widened as you took in the question. You were now hyper aware of Max’s hand on your back, where he had left it after your side hug. 

“Uh, great?” 

The men around you snickered. You looked around, even more confused. 

“This is actually the first I’m hearing about this,” you continued, “I thought that Max was on pole.” 

The man let out a small laugh before thanking you for your time. Your eyes were still wide as Max led you back to the garage, where the cheers got even louder. A second water was placed in your hands as you got closer to Mitch. 

She turned to you once she noticed you were back and brought you into a big hug. You started laughing as you squeezed her tightly. 

“What’s with the giggles?” she asked, trying not to laugh herself. 

“I thought Max was on pole. My radio was super scratchy and I couldn’t hear you. Some random journalist was the one to tell me!” you exclaimed over the celebrations in the garage. 

Vito came to you next and brought you into a side hug. You inhaled deeply as his arms enveloped you in a safe space. 

You whispered, “I did it. I really did it.” 

His hand came up to ruffle your hair. “Always knew you could kid. Always.” 

Next was Christian who, like Vito, bear hugged you. He patted your head during the hug. You sighed contently in his arms. 

“Is it nap time now?” you questioned, making everyone laugh. 

Christian spoke up. “We have debrief and then you can go back to the hotel to sleep. I think there’s a surprise for you.” 

Now that did it. Your leg bounced up and down the entire meeting. You mentally tried to will Christian to hurry up, but he kept on going. The minute the meeting was done, you bolted out of your seat. 

Sadly, your car was being transported for tomorrow, so you couldn’t go very fast. And besides, you had taken an uber, thinking that they would have gone much faster. Yet, their version of fast was nowhere near your version. When the car finally stopped, you quickly thanked the driver and threw some money at him, not even waiting for the change. 

The elevator also thought it would be good to give you a lesson in patience as well, as someone before you had pressed all the buttons – making you stop on every floor. You groaned as it stopped once more at the floor below yours. The moment the door opened up to your floor, you all but ran down to your room. 

Your key card almost fell out of your hands as you were trying to get the door open. It flew wide as you finally got the thing to work. You ran to the empty room. Your eyebrows pinched for what felt like the thousandth time that day. Your eyes flitted around, but didn’t land on anything special. 

“Maybe Christian got it wrong?” you asked yourself as you jumped on the bed, face forward. 

What or who you failed to notice was a lanky Monegasque creeping out of your closet. Arthur watched as you deeply inhaled into the pillows, eyes fluttering shut. He almost felt bad for what he was about to do. 

Key word: almost. 

He quietly inhaled before launching onto the bed. A scream left your lips at the arrival of unneeded body weight on you. Your went stiff as your mind raced. This was it. Some crazy fan had gotten into your room somehow and was about to strangle you. Your arms flailed as you tried to hit the intruder. 

Except, you stopped once you heard a familiar laugh. You gasped as you rolled over to find you boyfriend’s face in yours. The two of you looked at each other for a bit, gasping for air (you from holding your breath and him from laughing so much). 

Arthur suddenly dipped his head, going in for a kiss. Yet, you had other plans. 

You smacked his face. Arthur froze as he was halfway down, lips still puckered. 

“Well that hurt.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Sorry for thinking I was about to be killed Thur. That wasn’t nice,” you whined. “And I was about to sleep and now I’m not tired anymore.” 

Arthur smirked. “Maybe I can make you tired another way?” 

Hit. 

“I deserved that.” 

You scoffed. “Max is right in the room next to us. He would hang me if he heard.” 

Arthur huffed before putting his full weight on you, face in your neck. You let out a soft oof as the air was a bit knocked out of you. Your arms came up and wrapped around his neck. The two of you basked in each other’s presence for a bit, before a soft kiss was placed on your neck. 

You whispered, “No marks please.” 

You felt his lips trail up until they hit the bottom of where you ear was. A soft gasp left your lips as he kissed from there to your lips. His hands started rubbing at your sides and he finally placed his lips on yours. 

Your mouth opened just a bit, letting him in. Your hands made their way to his hair, fingers bunching the dirty blond strands. Arthur let out a please groan at the motion, which made him kiss you a bit harder. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he kept pressing his body onto yours, the pressure making a whine escape from your throat. 

The two of you had to part for a breath, but only for a second until you placed your lips back on his. His hands wandered up your torso, now exploring under your shirt. His lips were firmly on yours as he pressed into you harder. 

A loud moan escaped from under his lips, making him smirk into the kiss. 

When Arthur finally deemed you more relaxed, he leaned back, watching you gasp for air. Your head rested against the pillow as Arthur slid next to you. He arms were still wrapped around your middle.

He gave one more kiss to your neck, before whispering, “My pole sitter. I’m so proud of you.” 

Your eyes began to flutter shut, mind sinking into a deep sleep. 

Sunday morning came too quickly. Arthur had to almost drag you out of bed. That almost was an understatement: he did drag you out of bed. 

You had picked out a nice gray pant suit for today, something that Mitch had given you as a present. You had always loved all of her pant suits and tried to complement her whenever you could. 

Your phone buzzed with a notification that your car had arrived safely and it was waiting for you, and Arthur outside. Max wanted to come with you, but it was a hyper car and it only two seats. With your sunnies on, you stepped out of the hotel. Thankfully, there weren’t any fans waiting for the two of you. 

The V12 engine roared to life as you started the car up. You made sure that Arthur had on the seatbelt before you even started to move. The car came with two headsets so that you and the passenger could talk to each other. 

“Did you know that this is my first time driving this car on the road?” 

“What?” 

You didn’t answer him and kept on driving. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him grip the sides even more. You giggled as you continued through the Italian streets. At stop lights, people seemed to scramble for their phones, wanting to take pictures. 

You revved the engine as you got close to the paddock. The car was definitely loud and turned a lot of heads. Yet, people really couldn’t see who was in the car. 

A big group of the drivers were waiting for you and Arthur at the entrance before they went in. Charles’s head was the first to whip around at the sound of a Ferrari V12 engine. 

Lewis let out a loud whistle as the orange spaceship came closer. Lando and Oscar’s mouths were open wide. Alex and Logan just stood staring. 

“Whose car is that?” Carlos questioned, watching the car rev for a few more rounds. 

Max stood to the side with a giant smirk on his face. The cameras around them were all pointed to the futuristic car. 

Charles cocked his head. “Isn’t that the car that Y/n wanted at some point? Someone should call her and tell her it’s here.” 

Max laughed loudly, causing the group to look at him weirdly. 

He answered Charles, “Mate I think she already knows.” 

His finger came up and pointed at the car, door already opened with you stepping out. Their jaws dropped as Arthur also stepped out, grabbing his and your bags. You waved to the group, only getting half waves in reply. You giggled as you handed someone the key, only trusting a select few to park it. 

“Hello boys,” you said as you stepped closer. 

They were all silent, eyes still on the car. 

“When do I get a ride?” Logan asked first, breaking the silence. An uproar of the rest asking followed after that. 

Another giggle escaped your lips as you waved your hands, silencing them. 

“So, no matter how today turns out, I’m having a house party down in Capris after the race. Max said we can take his jet. Everyone on the grid is invited, except you know who.” 

A smirk formed on your face as you left, scanning your card at the turnstile. The males followed in suit, now excitedly talking about the party. 

redbullracing has posted

redbullracing and how are we feeling today? "Uh, great?"

liked by y/n.89, arthur_leclerc, monza_tifosi, lechair, and 309,204 others

y/n.nation I have no words - wow, just wow

losingmy_everlovingmind UM THE CAR? ARTHUR? HELLO??

y/n.89 guys it wasn't my fault, I just didn't know I was on pole - admin how could you

redbullracing it was max's idea maxverstappen1 HEY

charlos4ever guys, Charles win 2024?

rookie_on_top nah Y/n win 2024 y/n&co here here

f1 lets go racing!

The red and yellow crowd roared as you walked by, waving to everyone. You thought that there would be a lot of booing, but surprisingly there was little to none. The crowds seemed to adore you, just as they adored their Ferrari boys. 

At the garage, you had finally found out that Max had gotten P3 in a Ferrari sandwich, namely Charles in P2 and Carlos in P4. 

You were nervous as you sat in your Red Bull. This could be it. This could be your winning moment. 

Or this could end up like Suzuka. Another win in your grasps and then ripped from your hands. 

“Radio check kid?” 

“Mitch, I’m scared.” 

The older woman frowned as she sat at the pit wall. That didn’t sound like you. Your voice sounded so young and so scared, almost like a toddler who was scared of the dark. Mitch took a deep breath. 

“Kid, listen to me. You are so amazing. Your car breathes the same air that you breath. You just need to focus and be one with the car. You have to be speed. Remember, you eat losers for breakfast.” 

A small laugh came over the radio, making Mitch smile. 

“One winner, nineteen losers. I eat them for breakfast.” 

“Go get them kid.” 

“And it’s lights out and away we go at the 2024 Italian Grand Prix!” 

You focused on your breathing as you flew down the straights and suddenly slowed at the corners. There was a reason that this was one of the hardest tracks. The G-force of the straights into the corners was hell. 

Your head felt as though it was being ripped off as you went around the turns. Thankfully, you were still leading by midpoint. You were on a one stop strategy, and you needed to pit soon. However, you got the call for a yellow flag. 

“Who was it Mitch?” 

“Max clipped a kerb. He’s fine, but the bottom of his car is ripped. We’re taking this flag to pit you, so come on in.” 

You heart sank as you thought of your teammate. It was just you now to bring home some points. Your breathing got a little fast as you came to pit, watching the hordes of people with bright red flags. You were able to come out in first place once again. But you were alone this time. Not teammate to help if needed.

A lone bull in a sea of red capes. 

Your pace was phenomenal. Every time people thought a driver would catch up to you, you would manage to pull away. 

The final lap flag waved and your stomach jumped to your throat. You crisply cut the corners, managing you tyres and car. Only a few more turns to go. You could almost taste it. 

Max, along with the rest of the team, were jumping and cheering, willing your car to take you to the end. As the Dutchman watched you get closer and closer, he rushed out of the garage and climbed onto the fence.  

“Y/n L/n has the checkered flag in her sights. The world has thrown everything at her, yet she still rises. Today, she joins the elite group of drivers who get to say that they have won a Formula 1 race. The first woman this century to score points, the first woman to step foot on the podium, and the first woman to reach that top pedestal. Her hunger had turned starving, yet she will finally be satiated today.”

Drivers say that when they’re in the car, everything moves in slow motion. 

You watched your crew’s arms slowly jest up and down as you approached the line. When your car finally crossed, everything went silent. Your mind was thrown back to your first karting win. 

How everyone was silent as you stood on that top step. A tear trickled down your face in your helmet. This time, you knew there wouldn’t be any silence. 

The noise would be deafening.  

“SHE DNF-ED AT SPA, PODIUMED AT ZANDVOORT, AND WON AT MONZA. Y/N L/N IS THE WINNER OF THE 2024 ITALIAN GRAND PRIX.”

“You’ve done it!” Mitch screamed over the radio. You however, couldn’t understand yourself over your screams. Word vomit just came out of your mouth. Words in English and Italian sputtered out. 

“AAHHHH THE HECK. WHAT EVEN! NON POSSO CREDER! AAHHHHHHHH! THANK YOU EVERYONE!” 

Being the first one into Parc Ferme was a surreal experience. Normally, you’d be following someone in, but you were the one to lead. 

You stayed in your car for just a moment, taking in deep breaths and trying to will the tears away. Yet, they kept on coming. You quickly took your steering wheel off before getting out of the car on the nose. You raised your fists as you stood. 

The crowds were roaring and your head was spinning. You placed your fingers on your helmet before raising them up to the bright blue sky. 

The two yellow and red clad drivers watched on behind you as you celebrated. If it couldn’t be them, they were glad that it was you. 

You jumped down from the nose and immediately ran to the barriers and into your team’s open arms. You felt their hands rain down on your helmet and back in congratulations. In the sea of team, your eyes finally found bright blue ones to the side. 

Max had come around the little gate to hug your properly. You all but ran and jumped on him. Your legs lifted around his hips as he hugged you tightly. 

The Dutchman could hear your sobs from under your helmet. His large hands gripped you a bit tighter and held you close. Your fingers gripped the back of his Red Bull polo, not wanting to let go. Yet, you knew that you had to, so you slowly slid back down to the floor. 

Max looked into your eyes through your visor. His lips were moving, but you couldn’t really tell what he was saying. He gently turned you around in the direction of your team principal. He lightly pushed you toward Christian, and you took that moment to jog over to him. 

Much like with Max, you kind of jumped on the Briton, making him pick you up slightly. 

“I did it Dad. I’m on the top step.” 

Christian barely heard you, but he squeezed you a bit tighter once you said that. He set you back down and helped you get your helmet off. He was met with the sight of tears running down your face and your hair being plastered to your forehead with sweat. He led you over to get weighed and then place your helmet on the number 1 pedestal. 

You were quickly interviewed before going to the cooldown room. There you met Charles and Carlos.

The Monegasque was the first one to wrap you in a hug. It was nice, but you really wanted the hug of another Monegasque. 

“Siamo cosi orgogliosi di te, ragazzo. Finalmente sul grandino piu alto,” he whispered, before sending you to Carlos. 

There was little time in the cooldown room before the three of you were called to the podium. Your hat fit nicely, the number 1 on the side beaming. Carlos went first, then Charles, and then finally you. Your eyes squinted as you met the bright Italian sun. 

The crowds cheered below as you stood on the top step. Your tears returned as they played your national anthem. You didn’t try to wipe them this time though. 

You let them fall. 

The Austrian anthem played after and trophies were handed out. 

Once the metal was placed in your hands, you raised it up high. The people closest to you knew the significance of it all. The win in Lorenzo’s home country. Your win for him. 

Charles knew all the emotions. He too had won at Monza for his papa and Jules. Pierre down in the crowd let some tears shed as he remembered his time up there, winning for Anthoine. Daniel watched in amazement as you held the trophy high before kissing it lightly. There was a time that he was on that step, clad in orange and blue. You were shining. 

The taste of the bubbly had never been sweeter. After spraying Charles and Carlos, and getting theirs dumped all over you, it was your turn to spray your team. You tried to point the spray down at Max and Arthur, who had snuck into the sea of navy. Your boyfriend was currently looking up at you, as if you hung the stars. And right now, the sun was making you glow so hard that he truly believed that you might have. 

The celebrations didn’t end after that. 

In the group chat that you made, excluding one driver, there was only one message to the drivers. It made them all smirk with excitement. 

Grid Queen:  airmax leaves at 4  see you all in Capris  p.s. bring your girlfriends 

redbullracing has posted

redbullracing Y/N L/N IS THE WINNER OF THE 2024 MONZA GRAND PRIX

liked by olliebearman, oscarpiastri, nicorosberg, lewishamilton, and 602,209 others

y/n.nation LETS GOOOOOOOOO

box_box_express what a race - I'm speechless

formulalalala1 FIRST WOMAN TO EVER WIN A FORMULA 1 GRAND PRIX WHAT IS SHE

y/n&co the greatest rookie to ever cross the face of formula 1

y/n.89 I think I'm still crying, thank you admin

redbullracing love you too rookie!

iamred_iamyellow oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh

f1_fan and everyone liked that

y/n.89 has posted (max is second pic)

y/n.89 I really don't know what to say other than thank you. you all have put so much confidence in my and my abilities and I'm thankful that it's finally paying off. To everyone, I love you - let's get this bread

liked by arthur_leclerc, maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, and 509,219 others

landonorris knew you could do it bug!

carlossainz55 ah chica, you did marvelous maxverstappen1 words cannot tell how proud of you I am geitje fernandoalo_official nina, you're going to make me retire early oscarpiastri roo, you've done good danielricciardo welcome to the league darl' lewishamilton you drove oh so well love charles_leclerc gosse, you never cease to surprise me logansargeant lets go champ! knew you could do it georgerussell63 you did it again sweetie alex_albon super duper proud (lily is crying) y/n.89 y'all made me cryyyyyy

author this entire post has my heart

y/n.89 thank you for making it happen

*comments have been limited*

arthur_leclerc has posted

arthur_leclerc loving her was red and navy

liked by y/n.89 and others

*comments have been limited*

Race Results (top 10 + DNF) 

Y/n L/n – 26 points (fastest lap) 

Charles Leclerc – 18 points 

Carlos Sainz – 15 points 

Oscar Piastri – 12 points 

George Russell – 11 points 

Lewis Hamilton – 8 points 

Alex Albon – 6 points 

Logan Sargeant – 4 points 

Daniel Ricciardo – 2 points 

Yuki Tsunoda – 1 point 

Max Verstappen – DNF 

Champions Standings 

Max Verstappen – 309 points 

Charles Leclerc – 286 points 

Y/n L/n – 207 points 

Lando Norris – 190 points 

Carlos Sainz – 145 points 

Oscar Piastri – 130 points 

Lewis Hamilton – 113 points 

George Russell – 65 points 

Alex Albon – 62 points

Fernando Alonso – 45 points 

Logan Sargeant – 40 points 

Daniel Ricciardo – 25 points 

Lance Stroll – 17 points 

Valtteri Bottas – 13 points 

Pierre Gasly – 12 points 

Yuki Tsunoda – 9 points

Zhou Guanyu – 1 point 

Nico Hulkenberg 

Kevin Magnussen 

Esteban Ocon 

Constructors Standings 

Red Bull – 516 points 

Ferrari – 431 points 

McLaren – 320 points 

Mercedes – 178 points 

Williams – 102 points 

Aston Martin – 62 points 

Alpha Tauri – 34 points 

Alpha Romeo – 14 points 

Alpine – 12 points 

Haas – 0 points 

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @fly-me-away @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19 @lizzypiastri

Like Father, Like Son | CL16

pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

summary: Leo is just as clingy as Charles. Some cute little fluff moments

warnings: none! Italics are flashbacks, if there’s any spelling errors pretend you didn’t see them x

author’s note: A little all over the place, but I hope you guys enjoy the read! First time writing for Charles, so I hope it’s decent :)

Charles was a clingy boyfriend.

He knew it, you knew it, and everyone else who’s witnessed him practically attached to you knew it. But he couldn’t help it, Charles loved and adored every single part of you. Which was why he somehow needed to always be attached to you.

Whether you guys were at home, at the paddock, or just out and about, Charles always had to have you close. Majority of the time, he can be seen having his hand interlocked with yours or walking about with his arm around your waist. On rare occasions, fans have even spotted the Ferrari driver walking around while hugging you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder and hands connected at the front of your waist.

Fans melted at the sight of Charles being so clingy. His friends on the other hand—along with some fellow drivers on the grid—found Charles’s little habit as the perfect opportunity to tease him until he was as red as his race suit.

The Miami sun beamed on you as you and Charles entered the paddock. Immediately, fans recognized your boyfriend, calling him for his attention to sign merch and take pictures.

You gently released his hand, causing him to look at you with a pout, “Bébé, hold my hand.”

“Cha, they’re calling you and I know you want to go say hi.” You insisted, encouraging him to greet the fans by nudging him towards the barricades.

With a pout still on his face, Charles looked around, “You might get lost, it’s your first time here.” He knew you were fully capable of finding your way around the paddock and locating the Ferrari motorhome, but he just didn’t want you to leave his side. The moment he’d step into the Ferrari hospitality, he’d be pulled away from you to film content and do media. Which meant he wouldn’t see you till a couple of hours later. So basically, he was shamelessly finding excuses for you to stay with him.

“I’ll be fine, Joris is here and he’s going to hospitality too, I’ll just go with him.” You assured your boyfriend, motioning to his best friend behind you.

Charles’s brows furrowed together, his hand finding yours and tangling them together.

“Joris doesn’t know where the hospitality is.” Charles reasoned, obviously lying. Joris opened his mouth to object but quickly shut his mouth once his friend shot him a look.

“Please bébé, just come with me. They’re going to make me do media once I get there and I won’t see you till after.” Charles tried again to make you stay, slightly tugging on your hand. Joris shook his head at his best friend.

“Charles, your fans want to see you, they don’t want to see me. Just have some one on one time with them.” You encouraged him again, a slight smile on your face at how clingy your boyfriend was being.

“Nonsense, I’m sure they have some of those friendship bracelets you like so much. They’re always telling me to share them with you.” Charles said, dragging you along with him to the fans.

Once you get to the barricades, you’re approached by Lando and Fernando, who are already smirking at the both of you.

“Morning love birds!” Lando greeted you both, shifting his eye from Charles to you, “Is he holding you hostage again? Blink if you need help (y/n), security’s right there.”

Charles rolled his eyes at his friend, signing posters for a couple of fans and taking selfies with them.

“Pretty sure it’s going to take more than security to get him off of me.” You teased, raising your interlocked hands up and shaking it in the air. Charles paused the selfie he was about to take and turned to you with a feigned look of offense.

“I’m kidding, babe.” You smiled at him, rubbing your thumb over his hand. Fernando tsked at Charles playfully, “Ai, Charles no one is going to steal her away from you!”

A couple of the fans caught on with the banter you were all having and decided to join in.

“WE’LL STEAL HER!” A fan screamed.

“CAN WE HAVE (Y/N)?” Another fan from the back chimed in. Charles’s eyes widened at the crowd in front of him, a slight blush on his cheeks from all the teasing.

“You guys are all mean!” He jokingly yelled at the fans, pulling you away with him as he ran towards the garages.

While your boyfriend was clingy, you did not hate it one single bit. Majority of the time, you weren’t in the same time zones, so all the cuddling and hand holding made up for lost time.

Charles hated being away from you. He hated it even more when you were at his apartment in Monaco, sleeping in your shared bed without him after admitting how much you missed him. He knew you understood why he had to travel so much, it came with his job, but he still felt guilty leaving you alone so often.

Which is how you both ended up with sweet Leo.

Charles watched through his phone as you adjusted yourself in bed. You were in your pajamas, your nightly skin routine was done, and you were ready for bed. Before you can settle, you grabbed Charles’s pillow and cuddled it.

“I miss you, Cha.” You hummed quietly. You looked so cuddly, the blankets were pulled up to your chin and the pillows looked so fluffy around you. He wished he were there to snuggle up beside you and hide his face in your neck, basking in the scent of you.

“I know mon cœur (my heart), I miss you too, so much.” He was currently in Australia for the third race of the season. He wanted you to be there, but too many things were happening at your job for you to travel this weekend.

“It’s so quiet, I miss hearing you just yap and play piano.” You pouted, eyes beginning to feel heavy.

“I don’t yap.” Charles’s disagreed, his nose wrinkling.

You huffed out a laugh, “Yes, you do! Sometimes you’re just as bad a Max!”

Charles gasped at you, “That is a strong accusation, bébé. I am not as bad as Max, he never stops.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at your boyfriend, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Cha.”

Charles went quiet for a bit, causing you to look at him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked him through the phone. You see him shrug, “Nothing’s wrong, don’t worry.”

“So what is it?”

“What if we got a dog?” He suddenly suggested. The thought of a dog made your sleepiness go away. You weren’t against getting a dog, but with how busy you and Charles got, you weren’t really sure if now was the right time.

“A dog?” Your eyes squinted at your boyfriend. Charles hummed and nodded at you, “Yeah. I think it would be nice, no? You could have company whenever I’m away and we’ll be our own little family.”

Your heart swelled at Charles, the thought of having a family together one day was definitely something you both saw in your futures. But again, you were both too busy to start one, so maybe a dog would suffice.

“You’re right.” You began, “But having a dog is a big responsibility, Cha. Who’s going to watch them if we’re both away?”

“We can always take them. If we can’t, I’m sure maman wouldn’t mind.” Charles suggested, running a hand through his hair. He began to go through the other logistics, but sleep was beginning to take over you.

“I guess, baby. Let me sleep on it and I’ll let you know tomorrow, okay Cha?” You tell him, rubbing your eye. Charles smiled at you and blew you a kiss through the phone, “Don’t worry too much, mon chéri (my darling). I love you, sleep well.”

You mirrored his smile, “I love you too, Cha.”

After having a conversation about the responsibilities of having a dog, you and Charles decided that you were ready. So he reached out to a couple of breeders and some pet shops in Monaco until you guys found the right pup fit for you and Charles.

Leo was like the missing piece of you and Charles. You didn’t feel it before, but after seeing the small pup nuzzling between you and Charles you felt complete.

The English cream miniature dachshund was a bundle of joy and full of energy despite his small size. Leo’s daily schedule consisted of him eating, sleeping, playing, cuddles, eating, and more sleeping. He demanded both yours and Charles’s attention, though he demanded yours more. It was like he was in his own little world and the two of you were living in it.

Charles and Leo were like two peas in a pod. While one was a dog and the other was human, the similarities in their personalities were uncanny. They were the biggest sweethearts around you, constantly cuddling into your side and pressing kisses (or in Leo’s case—licks) onto your face—the two adored you and always wanted to be in your space. Wherever you went, they followed. But whenever you were gone, they were miserable.

Which brings you to today.

Leo whined as he sat beside the front door of Charles’s apartment. He pawed at the door, the sound of his tiny nails filling the room. You had gone out to have a girls day, visiting your favorite cafe with a couple of your friends and getting your nails done. Which left Leo to his own devices at his dad’s (Charles’s) apartment.

Charles was in the living room, going through a couple of emails from the team and his engineers about data from recent races and about the car. Though, he wasn’t able to focus since the six pound dog you both shared was constantly whining at the door waiting for you to come home.

Getting up from the couch, Charles made his way to the entrance of his apartment. Leo jumped up at the sight of Charles, immediately approaching his giant feet.

“Mon cœur, maman will be home soon.” He crouched to pick up Leo, who climbed up his chest and began licking his face. Charles let out a chuckle, “You’ve been acting like I was chopped liver for the past two hours, Leo. Don’t act so surprised to see me.”

As if Leo understood him, the dog nipped at his nose, making Charles yelp, “Ah! Leo!”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Holding the dog against his chest, Charles made his way back to the couch. He moved his laptop aside, already knowing he wouldn’t be getting any work done anytime soon. He laid horizontally on the couch with Leo sat on his chest, the dog still nipping and licking at him excitedly.

“Do you miss maman too, Leo?” He softly asked the dog, petting Leo’s head and smoothing the soft fur of his ears. The dog let out a small sound, as if he agreed with his dad.

Still stroking Leo’s head, Charles continued to talk to the dog, “I always miss your maman, Leo. Whether she’s gone for a couple of hours or when I’m away overseas, she’s always on my mind. Just like you mon cœur.”

Leo had settled on nuzzling himself into the crook of Charles’s neck, similar to how you would, and laid down against his chest. Charles soothingly rubbed Leo’s back as his eyes began to feel heavier.

“We’re very lucky to have maman, right Leo? She’s perfect for us and she takes care of us all the time. I know you like to cuddle with her more, that’s okay though, she gives very nice cuddles.” Charles could feel himself doze off. The afternoon sun was shining against the windows of his living room and the couch was incredibly comfy—it was perfect for an afternoon nap.

Before he can completely fall asleep, Leo suddenly whipped his head away from Charles, making the man groan at the dog. Leo’s tail began to wag excitedly, his paws tapping on Charles’s chest, begging to be let go.

Leo barked at the sound of your keys turning in the lock. Instead of placing Leo back on the floor, Charles picked him up and walked towards the entrance to greet you once you’ve come in.

Leo’s tiny body shook even more as he watched you walk through the door. You beamed at the sight before you, your boyfriend dressed in sweatpants and a sweatshirt, cradling your extremely hyper dog.

“Aww, hi babies!” You cooed, dropping your bag to the side and gently taking Leo from Charles. You giggled as Leo covered your face in kisses, sniffing at your hair, and nudging your face with his cold wet nose.

Charles softly smiled at you and Leo, “Hey, I missed you too, bébé.”

“I know you did, Cha.” You hummed, walking into his waiting arms and pressing a kiss onto his cheek. Charles made a sound of disapproval, “You missed, mon chéri.”

You chucked at your boyfriend, “Oh, I’m sorry.” You pressed a tender kiss onto his awaiting lips, a hum of satisfaction coming from Charles. His arms tightened around you as he led you to the couch, only letting you go so you can settle onto the cushions.

Picking up your hand, Charles inspected your nails, “I like them, they look good on you.”

“Thank you, Cha. How was your day with Leo?” You sat back into the couch with Leo still cuddled into your chest. Charles sat beside you, wrapping his arms around you and placing his chin on your shoulder.

“I tried to get work done but Leo kept crying, so we decided to cuddle and talk about how much we missed you.” Charles answered, feeling the sleepiness come over him again.

“Oh, really?”

Charles nodded, “Yeah, our child’s a boy of many words, mon chéri.” You looked down at the pup to see him dozing off like Charles.

“Can we take a nap?” Charles asked, moving the both of you so you were laying down on the couch. You laid beneath Charles and Leo, your two boys nuzzled into your sides.

“Of course we can, Cha.” You hummed, pressing a kiss to his forehead and another onto Leo’s.

“I love you.” You whispered to Charles, you felt him smile against you, “I love you always, Mon cœur (my heart).”

You watched the two of them as they fell fast asleep on you. Your boys were clingy, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Like father, like son, I guess.” You whispered before falling asleep yourself.