#brocedes fic

[russellssaince]

I NEED a fanfic where Lewis starts taking surfing lessons because of twink instructor pr😭😭😭

#brocedes #brocedes fic #brocedes edit #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #formula 1 #formula one

[hamilgodd]

brocedes - soulmate au if possible my liege? :-)

Through your eyes

A Brocedes soulmate Au.

+1000 words.

Warnings: a bit of angst, kind of possible the expansion of this universe. That’s it.

At the age of thirteen, everyone receives a memory —a glimpse into the future—, from the eyes of their soulmate: the exact moment when the other person realizes that they are in love with their other half. Nico is not the exception.

A memory soulmate Au.

At the age of thirteen, all people receive a memory seen from the eyes of their other half: the exact moment when the other person realizes that they loves their soulmate. Nico has dreamed of the day when this memory appears in his memory since his father explained the event to him, he counts the weeks until his thirteenth birthday and he can’t help but wonder what it will be like? What will he see? Where will it be? It doesn’t matter that that little look into the future is just a moment of his life, it’s just one more unknown that joins his path; Nico just wants to know that someone loves him in the same way he sees how his father loves his mother.

He wants that, Nico wants to be sure that there is someone out there waiting for him, waiting to love him in such a spectacular way that the rest of the world turns pale in comparison. Destiny is not a thing carved in stone, it is not something sure and the memory that everyone receives is only the moment when the other realizes the feeling that nests in his chest, but after that? Nothing is safe.

There are love stories that are eternal, that last forever and others that stop loving each other when winter comes and the snow covers the sidewalks. There are taken advantage of opportunities and stolen kisses that will never be more; there is the possibility that the times do not coincide, that when love reaches one for the other it is already gone.

But Nico chooses to believe, he chooses to have hope.

His thirteenth birthday welcomes him with the memory engraved on fire in his memory when he wakes up that morning and there is a flash of his future that makes him even happier. He listens to the crowd around him, people celebrating, he can see himself in front of the person (he doesn’t know who he is —he knows is a ‘he’s at least—, no one ever knows until the right time comes), Nico is older; he can see it on his face, in the way some wrinkles form around his eyes; but he is happy, extremely happy.

He is standing on the second step of a podium, in his hands he carries a golden trophy and despite the fact that he has not won, something has happened that makes him jump for joy. Nico can see his wet hair from sweat, he can see how people under the grandstand celebrate and shout his name, how the sky lights up with fireworks; Nico can see how at some point his blue eyes meets the gaze of his soulmate.

Nico not only finds the love of his life but he is also a world champion of the sport that he loves so much; he is a world champion and is sharing the podium with his soulmate, who realizes that he loves him at the best time it can exist.

The memory ends there and Nico can only imagine the rest, he can only imagine how happy they will be after that moment, how incredible his life will be, how much he will enjoy having won, of having found his other half. Nico can only imagine good things without knowing what really awaits him.

———

Nico clings to that moment for years, specially when everything seems difficult, when he wants to give up: when he loses and ends up off the track, off the podium; when he wins and can’t wait for time to pass fast enough. He meets new people, makes friends who make him smile, he sees the world and little by little he is forging his own path, little by little he is demonstrating all the talent he has, all the passion he feels.

His debut in Formula One only makes him think more than ever at that moment, when will it be? When will he fulfill his long-awaited dream? Nico turns to watch the rest of the grid and can’t help but wonder who it will be, who is his soulmate? Some of the current drivers or maybe a newly arrived rookie with a lot of luck (he doesn’t believe it but dreaming is free so let his imagination run wild).

A few already know who they are destined for, others are still in the search and there are two or three who are not interested, however time is still running and Nico knows that soon it will be his time.

The grid gradually begins to change and not only makes new friends but also reencounters some old ones, Lewis is there in the white and red uniform competing alongside Fernando Alonso, and it is impressive to see, Lewis does everything well, there are no serious mistakes and soon, soon Lewis is claiming his first title.

The people around Lewis is celebrating him, and Nico can’t wait for it to be his turn to lift that trophy knowing that he is a world champion.

Out of nowhere it is no longer Williams but Mercedes and soon it is competing next to Michael, next to a legend. Nico learns as much as he can, learns all the tricks even if the other never shares them with him, after all Nico is a very patient person, a very observant person, Nico learns and does it fast.

More races and some accidents, new faces arrive and old ones leave; Lewis goes from being another driver to being his partner and there is a feeling at the bottom of his chest that makes him feel uncomfortable, which makes him feel strange but refuses to think more about her. Nico and Lewis compete, they win and lose together, everything is good; they are best friends, they are teammates, they tell each other everything —well, almost everything— and they are sure that nothing can stand between them.

Not until 2016 arrives.

There are no more kind words, no meetings at midnight in the four of the other, there are no comforting hugs when one loses and only a sepulchral silence is installed in the garage. There are conversations in another language and team orders that are nothing more than a sample of the almost unsustainable rivalry in which they live submerged, Lewis wins and wins, as well as he loses; Rosberg wins and loses for ñuego to win again and soon takes the advantage; this is how despite the fact that both add points and the board changes it seems that the destiny is already written at least in that season.

Nico refuses to believe that this is happening, he refuses to believe that the year in which his friendship hangs a thread is the year in which his soulmate realizes that he truly loves him, maybe that’s the price for a love like the one he has always dreamed of? Lose his friend but earn a life full of happiness? He doesn’t know, he doesn’t want it to be true.

For some weeks he is deceived, he thinks that he can win that year but also the next and that nothing assures him that the memory he saw is that of his first world title, after all it is almost a rule that the winning pilot obtains at least a second year dominating the rest and lifts more than one trophy that says that he is the best in the world; Nico clings to that.

He tries to remove those thoughts from his mind, he tries to concentrate only on competing and winning and achieving everything he once dreamed of; he clings to the fact that not only Lewis has won but also that Kimi, Sebastian, Daniel and others are competing, because seriously the world cannot be so cruel that his soul mate is not only his best friend but also —in those moments— his greatest rival.

However, he can no longer hold on to that lie when Abu Dhabi arrives and Lewis looks at him from the highest step of the podium with a sad smile and eyes that barely contain the tears he so longs to shed.

Nico can’t keep clinging to that lie when he hears his name from under the tribune and sees the fireworks paint the sky with exactly the same colors he saw eighteen years ago. Nico can’t keep deceiving himself, he can’t keep putting up with that, that’s why when he’s alone in the hotel room and those infants after having won they don’t look anything like what he imagined when he was a child, he makes the most important decision. It is at that moment that he decides to retire.

And it’s not until Morpheus claims that a brief thought appears in his head, is it possible that Lewis doesn’t have any memory? Because Nico has never felt that overwhelming love that means that he has found his soulmate.

Oh God... and before he can do anything, unconsciousness takes him to a world where no one dreams.

———

Lewis for his part, has a completely different memory, it is a lonely corridor in the middle of the night, both observe each other in silence. He can see his face through the eyes of the one who now knows is Nico, it’s been too many years since he knew he loved him, does he still do it?

Lewis doesn’t say his name until it’s necessary, and it’s in that empty hallway when it happens. Is in that moment when everything comes crashing down for them.

#brocedes #nico rosberg and lewis hamilton #brocedes fic #f1 #formula 1 #formula uno #lewis hamilton #lh44 #f1 fic #nico rosberg fic #soulmate au #nico and lewis are soulmates #they love each other #but they are oblivious #hope u like it

[heartburiedingreece]

I'm not very familiar with the etiquette of promoting your fics on tumblr, also getting major imposter syndrome since this is my first fic

BUT

I wrote a brocedes fic! It's called "she's gonna save me (call me baby, run her hands through my hair)" and you can find it on ao3 under the same handle: HeartBuriedInGreece

It's a short 900 word hurt/comfort, where nico feels angsty and lewis does what he can to help

#brocedes #nico rosberg #lewis hamilton #formula 1 #formula one #f1 #brocedes fic #fanfic #:3

[goldenbutterflies3]

Hopefully everyone, I will have a brocedes fic out on ao3 by the end of February! Just an update for you in this drought

#formula 1 #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #fics #the f1 fic drought #brocedes #brocedes fic #it’ll be painful I’m sorry #watch this space

[sainzinnorris]

love of my life: a brocedes fic.

SUMMARY:

lewis had always loved racing. there was never a doubt about it. ever since he could remember, he's always known this is what he's always wanted to do. he's certain he's never been this sure of anything else.

you see, the thing is, when lewis hamilton knows and sets his mind onto something, he'll do anything in order to achieve it. even if requires destroying himself and his best friend in the process.

because essentially that's what it took to achieve it.

— where lewis loves racing and nico and can't have one without losing the other.

lewis had always loved racing. there was never a doubt about it. ever since he could remember, he's always known this is what he's always wanted to do. he's certain he's never been this sure of anything else. 

you see, the thing is, when lewis hamilton knows and sets his mind onto something, he'll do anything in order to achieve it. even if it requires destroying himself and his best friend in the process.

because essentially that's what it took to achieve it.

lewis had always loved nico.

loving nico wasn't complicated.

loving nico was almost as simple as telling everyone his favorite ice cream flavor. It was always the same, although arguably simplistic and basic. but no matter how many times he had vanilla ice cream, it always gave him the same level of comfort and happiness as it did the very first time he had it.

just like nico does.

he thinks it's one of the easiest things he's ever done in his life.

lewis often thought there wouldn't be a single universe where he wouldn't love nico.

he felt like his soul was forever entwined with nico rosberg, in each and every universe that existed beyond time. 

not loving nico was incomprehensible, it would feel too unrealistic. too out of element.

nico was his best friend and the guy he was in love with.

nobody and nothing could ever take away what they shared.

he was certain of this. he was so darn sure of them.

—

lewis had always loved racing with nico.

racing with nico always brought him joy, comfort, and a spirit of competitiveness only the nico rosberg could bring out in him. 

the races where lewis didn't essentially win, even those races didn't matter as long as he got to race alongside nico. his best friend. 

the burning sting of not winning always lingered around, and lewis had a fair share of experiencing it way back from his karting races. 

but in a hazy, distant, foreign yet familiar memory, he remembers. he remembers how nico was always there, beside him; arm slung around lewis's shoulders , celebrating. clutching onto lewis like their very unlikely friendship was the true prize all along. 

there was a thrilling, adrenaline inducing, strangely intimate feeling about sharing podiums winning together. a feeling lewis could never truly put into words. 

nico hugging onto him, in pure exhilaration and glee as they celebrated their wins together.

he recalls wishing the clock would stop ticking for a while so he could somehow somehow miraculously travel back in time and cherish moments like these forever. 

he also distinctly remembers almost too clearly how he felt like his heart would hammer out of his chest every time he'd hear nico laugh and drown him with champagne and tackle him into a bone crushing victory hug.

so naturally, when they became teammates in formula one, lewis was beyond ecstatic.

he would race with nico in formula one, racing for the same team. win together. celebrate together. just like their karting days.

just like they talked about under the grecian skies. achieve their shared dream together. as equals. as one. 

which lewis knew was the best thing to possibly happen ever. this way he hoped, he could have them both: racing and nico, the two things he truly ever loved. 

he thought he could love these two things in separation. in moderation. let it not consume him for he was a person that existed beyond these two concepts.

these two were simple concepts that meant so much to him. a part of him wonders if they could simply co exist in harmony. just as two distinct things he's in love with. without either of them getting damaged in the process of it. 

except. lewis hamilton is not capable of doing anything in moderation.

somewhere along amidst all of this, he felt the lines between racing and nico blur into one.

he's knee deep in love with racing. it gives him an adrenaline rush. it gives him purpose. it's something he knows he's meant to do. racing, simply put, is the sweetest addition he’s been high on his entire life. 

he's heads over heels in love with nico. every little smile, every bone crushing hug, every sacred and lingering looks, the secret fleeting kisses and the banter. he's loved him from the start, he think he's incapable of not being in love with nico rosberg.

except he doesn't realize that, loving one intensely, meant losing the other one.

—

lewis and nico were happy. happy and content racing each other together. as teammates. as one. 

just reaching for the same thing. a world drivers' championship. it was their shared dream. they would do it together. like they promised, interlocking pinkies, a whispered secret, laying on the sands of the beaches, under the pale moonlight of the greece skies, counting the stars in the skies, their laughter echoing the quiet place, heart brimming with happiness.

lewis genuinely thought nothing could go wrong with them. any mishaps on track were quickly rectified with pizza competitions, luring each other with ice creams and movie marathons. they sorted it out because they were best friends first and race drivers second. 

the mishaps didn't matter because they'd figure it out. together. like they've did all these years. no animosity or hostility. just a shared history, hobbies and heart filled with ever lasting memories was enough to mend any argument or whiplash any on-track incident caused. 

no racing could ever take their very delicate relationship and ruin it even if they tried prying it from their hands, they'd put up a fight together and win together…or so he thought, once upon a time. 

they were the bestest of friends. it was the bestest of times.

—

soon it became the worst of the times as well.

the cracks began to show, slowly and gradually. they always do. it was truly foolish and naive thought to possess, now that he looks back at it. to truly believe there wouldn't be any irreparable cracks that would emerge from the competition, the battle to grasp that one title. 

they were naturally competitive, but this competition soon took a vile form. 

something that's expected from the motorsport, but he didn't think it would truly go this far. he would have never thought it would have gotten this bad. 

what started off as small tricks to bring in more points for the team and themselves, soon developed to mind games to fuck with the other's carefully curated strategies, futile and vicious efforts to clutch onto that championship title, a title they were almost on par with, just separated by a small gap of a few crucial points.

before either of them could fully grasp the long term consequences of their actions, the damage had been done. 

the media trained smiles, the subtle digs at one another, the isolation and the inevitable toxic competition had driven the once best friends to rivals. nothing more than that, but certainly everything less than whatever they had started off as. 

2016 in every way was truly suffocating. it was vicious, dark , and filled with grappling anxiety. soon, it wasn't even about winning, it was about defeating him . 

snatching it from nico's prying hands, because a race win never felt like truly a win to lewis unless it was against nico.

the same way love truly never felt like love unless it was spent on nico. 

—

2016 comes to an end. 

nico rosberg is world champion.

his retirement comes in eleven days later, leaving the world in shock. 

lewis is baffled. nico didn't tell him.

nico stopped telling him everything ages ago, a small almost insignificant voice inside reminds him too quickly before he can expand on that line of thought. 

so truly he doesn't understand why he's this surprised in the first place. 

a part of him thinks that he'll be relieved.

no more mind games. no more unhealthy competitions, no more nights lost over coming up with futile strategies to outperform the other, no more pr trained damage control. 

finally, his mind settles on one last thought.

no more racing against nico rosberg. 

no more loving nico rosberg, a thought that leaves at the same speed it enters.  

hesitantly, he takes a moment to glance at nico at the luxurious retirement party hosted for the champion, to give him a warm goodbye and to celebrate his committed efforts for everything he's done for the team. 

he absorbs every aspect of him, making peace with the fact this would be the last time he'd see him. in formula one. at least as a driver. 

his pretentious angelic smile is radiant but miserable, yet its good enough to convince the media. the countless pr mediated training finally paid off; almost too dangerously, blending the lines between reality and illusion of the person he used to be. 

his final show before exiting the world of formula one, as a driver.

except it was just not enough to convince lewis because once upon a time, he prided on the fact that he truly knew and understood the nico rosberg.

the shell of the nico he once used to know doesn't cease to exist anymore, truly faded away into an unrecognizable version of someone he used to know. 

it's a godforsaken tragedy. it's almost poetic on how ironic all of this had been, lewis thinks.

racing was the one thing that brought them together. their backgrounds couldn't be even more different even if they tried, yet it was their shared passion for racing that held them together. 

because once upon a time, they were just two little boys in karts, dreaming the same thing, becoming world champions together. 

and now they were two grown men, with world championship (s) under their names. 

they did manage to fulfill one part of their promise, just forgot the part where they had to do it together, not apart. 

it's weird how the one thing that you love also becomes the same thing that tears you apart.

the sport takes away that much as it gives you. lewis always thought that part of the pep talk was a bit overexaggerated. 

he was sure that when he broke the records, set new ones, became world champion, he'd be content. he'd feel seen. he'd fulfill his purpose and everything else in his life would fall into place

once he leaves an indelible mark in the history of motorsports. To silence the haters and those who doubted his capabilities for his achievements would speak for themselves. 

never did he imagine that the pursuit of this would set ablaze to everything else apart from racing that he truly loved. 

in a moment of self reflection, he wonders if there might have been another way to do all of this.

where they could have done it together. from the start to the very end of it. like they had always promised each other.

where it wasn't vile and hostile.

where it was just lewis & nico and not lewis vs nico.

or was it always meant to end the way it did?

he wouldn't know about it, for that wasn't their story. that wasn't the narrative.

the damage was done. far beyond repair. there was no point in contemplating the what ifs of the path they hadn't taken. 

they crossed too many lines, burned too many bridges. they both said things neither of them could take back, but the worst lied in those words that were left unsaid, always lingering around, prancing around every time either of them thought they could possibly fix what they had.it lingered around, unwelcomed, like a haunting repercussion of their cursed irreparable mistakes. 

a part of lewis, knows, and understands he didn't mean all those unkind things he said. 

they were trying to hurt each other. and god it worked every single time. they knew each other too well, they knew every weakness of the other. get under the others' skin, a rather disgusting and pathetic but sadistically effective way to inflict pain. to get in their heads, to throw them off their game. 

all because somewhere along the lines the both of them decided to let racing and winning mean more than whatever they shared. 

they burnt violently, a direct resemblance to the sun, gleaming and shining in their fullest capacity and potential they could, every point gained, every trick used, every argument initiated was to close in the miniscule point gap that existed between the two. 

what they hadn't realized is that in order to shine and glow as bright as the sun, you had to burn as bright as its rays.

and so they did. they blazed so fiercely, at a magnitude, in a way only lewis hamilton and nico rosberg could do. trying to outperform the other, trying to be the best in the game. what they hadn’t realized is that they had ended up destroying each other in the pursuit of the same.

now all that remains are ashes of what they both used to be.

at least for now, lewis convinces himself that he still knows some broken; perhaps far too gone version of nico.

and that was enough for him. 

he could live with that, he convinces himself.

perhaps the very same way that nico seemed to live between the broken remains, grieving over the reminders of those memories they once cherished together. 

the full circle was complete.

from strangers , to friends, to best friends , to teammates , to rivals and finally back to strangers.

it was all over.

#lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #brocedes #formula 1 #formula one #nico x lewis #brocedes fic #f1 #f1 fic #f1 rpf fic #f1 rpf #angst #stella's fics #tw food

[spyegate]

everything, now

lewis and nico navigating the start of parenthood

#brocedes #brocedes fic #f1 rpf #again idrk how to post fic on here lmaoooo

[blueballsracing]

home is where the heart is

(brocedes, 2k, completed)

READ HERE

snippet:

He crossed the finish line—it had been a year since his last world championship, but Lewis Hamilton finally did it. In 2021, he was an 8-time world champion.

But, all he could think of was Nico when he sobbed and fell to the ground, waving the British flag, pointing it to the sky. Every tear that fell, every heartache endured, every moment of vulnerability shared—it all became a testament to the depth of their connection and the profound impact Nico had on his life.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fic #f1 rpf #f1 fic rec #brocedes #brocedes fic #my fic #my post #nico rosberg #lewis hamilton #f1 fandom #nico x lewis #my writing #my creation

[il-predestinato]

Elle, yes! I’m glad you’re doing this! But you know what? Let‘s ignore the numbers and write us a small lestappen fic about the first Taylor Swift song on your spotify wrapped playlist instead! ❤️

"All Too Well (10 minute version)" by Taylor Swift; pairing - lestappen & brocedes

'Cause there we are again on that little town street You almost ran the red 'cause you were lookin' over at me Wind in my hair, I was there I remember it all too well

Hey Stina! Yeah... it ended up being a little longer than 5 sentences and 1 more ship than you requested. 🤣

Read on AO3.

send me an ask with a number between 1 and 100 and I'll write a 5ish sentence fic inspired by that song on my 2022 wrapped playlist!

#lestappen #charles leclerc #max verstappen #brocedes #nico rosberg #lewis hamilton #lestappen fic #brocedes fic #f1 rpf #* #my fic #elle.ask #stina tag

[mountinez]

you're the creature in my heart

Summary: wrote this lil fic last year for one of my twitter mutuals -> mila if you read this at some point, know that i still love you & miss you;

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton/Nico Rosberg; Lewis Hamilton/George Russell (implied);

Angst with no happy ending, no warnings.

"I know it hurts, but I need you to let me go." You say. "I love him so much," You say "I'll be happy with him." You say. "Anyway, you have someone else." You say.

"Fuck it." I say. "You're the only person I've ever loved." I say.

I’ve always been wrong in every fucking moment of my life. But you? No, you were always right. You knew when it was going to rain. You knew when it was going to get cold outside - you always told me to take a coat with me. But now, you're not right. I can’t simply let you go. And I don't know how many more times I'll have to say that. I love you. And I'd like to repeat that until my dying day if needed.

But I can't, because I'm wiping the tears from my face, tugging the collar of my shirt awkwardly, and stumbling around trying to grab a piece of you.

 I don't care about dignity or pride anymore. 

All I want is you. 

I want you in my arms on a summer afternoon, having tea on the porch. I want you at night, pressing soft kisses to my lips to ward off the distant sound of thunder. I want you, all of you, without reservations and fears, without your control.

I can't find my coat because I'm not seeing straight. And I might be hurting your wrist, but I'm in panic because I can't lose you like this. I’m sure I look like crap, because that's what I am. But I had the foolish hope that even though I was such a mess, you'd still be proud to have me by your side. 

You would still love me. 

Me, the frustrated and insecure boy, the young man who always felt the world had something against him. Until you picked me up on the floor, took my hand, gave me your warm lap, and told me that you would never leave - that I would never have to stand by a harbor again saying goodbye to someone.

You lied, Lewis.

"Once you get better, we can try to talk" You whisper and leave. 

Perfect. You are perfect. You want the perfect things. You deserve only perfect things! And I'm not perfect.

I spent many hours thinking about what I could tell you. 

In truth, I spent many years thinking of a sentence that doesn't want to come out.

This sentence, which was silent for so long and is now close to being verbalized, is shying away in some dim corner of my throat.

I could tell you so much… so much elaborated, rhythmic, and well-constructed sentence as he does. I could tell you so much truth and so many lies, but I never wanted to. 

Because to me those things always sounded so easy and so commercially clichéd. I know that nobody cares about that, and neither do you; But for me, it means a lot. I've been running away from the obvious things during my whole life.

I never wanted you to think I don't care, but I've always measured the things I've said to you - not just to you, but to everyone. No, it's not because I'm selfish. Who said I'm denying that I am? I know you think I'm just a well-articulated narcissist, but it was never just that. If it were, I wouldn't be standing here.

The truth is, if God exists, he made you both beautiful and cruel, Lewis. And God made me fall in love with you. I did not want to. But as a reward or perhaps - I suppose -, as a punishment, God gave your beauty to my eyes, alongside your permanent cruelty.

God gave you the light you needed to blind me.

God gave you a unique smile with the intention of making me cry.

God gave me a heart to readily give to you, but I think he forgot to make one for you too.

Once, however, I used to believe in God.

I still remember you smiling after kissing me, or you lazily saying that you loved me. That time when we were so close I could think you were my mirror. You completed the song of my life. 

You completed me.

And you slept in my bed. I heard your moans and whispers in my ears. You cried in my arms. You swore you were mine, mine alone.

But you used to walk away from me with someone else, yet saying that you still loved me. You used to say you'd be back soon and I used to - stupidly - wait for you, knowing you wouldn't come back. I used to see you with them, and you used to say that you loved me even more…

Those were the times I didn't believe in anything. Just like now.

You've already left, not even worried about how I’m feeling. And I know I'm standing here like a real mess, but without you, I don't have a place to let myself stay. I never had. 

I wish you knew that when I said "maybe" I wanted you to hear the infinity... And when I pretended I didn’t care, I just wanted you to hold me.

Sometimes I don't believe in anything but you, Lewis. And I always thought you loved me too much to care. But in the end, I've only been sure of one thing in my entire life: I've always been wrong.

Betaed by the one and only @shionorimaru <3

I have a '505' brocedes playlist btw

#brocedes #britcedes #brocedes fic #mercedes amg #lewis x nico #lewis x george #putting them in the same team was a set up to destroy their relationship and that's the hill i'll die on #angst #my fics #monologues #my writing #fics #f1 rpf fic

[russellssaince]

IMAGINE A FANART OF BROCEDES GETTING MARRIED IN THE VALYRIAN TRADITION, FOR GOD I WILL DO ANYTHING FOR THIS MASTERPIECE 😭😭😭😭😭😭

#brocedes #brocedes edit #brocedes fic #hotd #valyrian wedding #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #game of thrones #fanart #digital art #digital drawing #digital illustration #f1 #f1 fic

[remapped-soul]

warm meals: 2013 pt 1

it started with this + a longer unhinged convo i had with @unabashedlycasualangel. this one is for you, c <3

Nico finds the food after the race on Sunday. It’s sitting on the desk in his driver’s room, an inconspicuous aluminium casserole that doesn’t look store-bought or restaurant made. It looks homemade and it’s unsettling enough to stop him from whatever he was supposed to do. Peel the wet suit off of his body. Celebrate the home victory. Wash off the champagne dripping from his hair into his eyes. Go back to Lewis and congratulate him for adding another 12 points to the team, on top of Nico’s 25.

Nico doesn’t move. He raises an eyebrow at the casserole as if it could speak and give him answers, all the while running through the list of names who would do this. Vivian— doesn’t give him food without asking him first. Lewis— doesn’t cook. Toto, Niki, Bono— they would do it for Lewis, but not for him. Nico shrugs. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, not when he has a victory to celebrate. When his agent knocks on his door, Nico is down to his underwear. He hands out the casserole, says, “Get rid of it.” Two hours later, he all but forgets about it. Shots pour down his throat as he celebrates on someone’s yacht, singing off-key to Swedish House Mafia, one arm around Lewis’ shoulders, the other curled around Vivian’s waist.

+

The second time it happens, Nico doesn’t spare it a second thought. Someone from the team gets rid of it before Nico gets the chance to get out of his sopping wet suit, but not before his driver’s room smells like a restaurant. Garlic, tomatoes, butter. If this is some kind of reward for winning races, than it’s a poor attempt. Whoever does it, they know Nico loves Italian food. They also know he can’t indulge in it, not when he wants to win a championship one day.

+

“Have you eaten any good food lately?” Sebastian asks Nico out of the blue one day. It’s late in the evening on a Saturday night, and the track still smells like burnt rubber. “I don’t really feel like thinking about food.” Nico’s stomach feels funny. His body feels funny, and he hopes to god he doesn’t come down with indigestion, not after so many unfinished races. Sebastian’s crooked grin only gets sharper. “So you didn’t.” Nico gives him a tired look. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sebastian shrugs. His eyes look liquid blue in the sunset light, reminiscent of the artificial colour of the shots Nico downed in Monaco weeks ago. He excuses himself before he throws up all over Sebastian’s golden boots.

+

Nico retires with six laps to go and Lewis wins. It’s frustrating but at least he got out of the car before the fire got too bad. He sulks in his driver’s room until Lewis crosses the finish line, and then goes out there to give him a hug, to shower him with congratulations on his very first win for Mercedes. Lewis did the same for Nico a year prior. They celebrate with the team, they listen to one of Niki’s passionate speeches, and then Lewis goes out with his dad, and Nico returns to his hotel room. It’s England, the weather is dreadful and Vivian is in Monaco. There is nothing for him to do. He doesn’t feel like doing anything. He’s still sprawled on the bed when someone knocks on his door. It’s nine, almost ten at night. He only opens the door on the third try and Nico doesn’t have time to be exasperated because Lewis is on the other side. “Hey, man.” Nico steps aside, lets him in. “I thought you were with your dad.” “I was.” Lewis is hesitant. He looks around the room, as if they don’t stay in similar ones— maybe his is better— and then sets something on the table. A plastic white bag that smells like— “I brought you something.” Nico raises an eyebrow. Lewis drops his eyes to the floor. “I, uh— I cooked.” Nico raises the other eyebrow. “You cooked.” “Yes.” Lewis looks up at him, this time defiant. “For you.” “Oh.” “Seb told me you haven’t eaten the food.” “I haven’t talked to Sebastian.” “Still—“ Lewis lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Are you hungry?” Nico thinks about the warm casseroles waiting for him after he has won, an unfortunate reward at best, a mean prank at worst. Turns out, it was neither. “You cooked?” Nico asks again like a broken machine. Before Lewis can get defensive about it, he adds, “Italian?” “Yeah, man. It’s your favourite, right?” Lewis doesn’t cook, but Lewis is also the person who knows him best. That night, they eat together, shoulders to arms to thighs to legs pressed together as they sit on the small bed. That night, Nico eats the best lasagna he has ever had in his life. The championship can wait for him.

#brocedes #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #brocedes fic #f1 fic #f1 rpf #luna.writes #my stories #so this will be a series and I'll finish this bc it's for c #c please dont let me abandon it #anywaaaay i hope you enjoy it #im trying to get back into writing and put less pressure on me #tw food #food mention

[delicateglitch]

We have a 30k brocedes and sewis le mans fic? WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE WE DONE TO BE BLESSED LIKE THIS?

#F1 rpf #Brocedes #Brocedes fic #Sewis #Sewis fic

[viennakarma]

My dearest friend and enemy

Part 1 | Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: You and Fernando always dreamed of the day you'd get into Formula 1. Unfortunately, the competition, the pride and the stubborness, get in the way of a beautiful friendship.

Word count: 7.8k

Tags: female!reader, driver reader, coming of age, ups and downs of a friendship, brocedes coded, very very angsty, cursing, anger, fights, overuse of flavio briatore as a plot device, lots of low blows, sprinkles of romance, kissing, making out, happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Note: Someone requested this, with this very detailed request, and it has consumed my every thought for the past week or two. I had to tweak some things from the request here and there, hope it's ok. It's heavily inspired by brocedes. Obviously we don't have all the facts with whatever happened to Lewis and Nico, but I have my own theories, that I tossed around this story here and there. (There is a lot of info that is wrong or inaccurate, I did this on purpose to fit my narrative, if you catch them, please ignore)

I'm sorry if it feels rushed, this was getting way too long and I just wanted to follow my heart. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx

[If you have never listened to Tamino, or never heard this song, please do a favor to your brain and heart, and listen!]

Find me on Twitter!

PART 2 (END)

You wouldn’t cry. You wouldn’t cry.

You repeated those words to yourself as you stared at your fucked up kart, it wasn’t even starting. You didn’t have any more money to repair it, and if you didn’t, then you wouldn’t be able to keep going in the competition.

“Hey, are you alright kid?” Someone stopped you, and your tears fell down. You used the sleeve of your overalls to wipe your face.

“I won’t make it to the final round of the competition,” you pointed to your kart.

The boy knelt down beside you, taking a look at your kart. It was the first time you really looked at him. He was a bit older than you, probably two or three years, since you had seen him in the next category, and you knew he was one of the best from what you could see.

He walked away suddenly, but came back a minute later with a tool box. He knelt down and started tinkering with your kart.

“What- what are you doing?” You asked crouching beside him. He only hummed, seemingly concentrating on his work.

After a few minutes of silence, he asked you to test to see if it would work, and you started your kart, and it did work.

“Oh my god!” You smiled, leaving the kart, “how- how much does it cost?”

“Don’t worry, I wanted to help,” he shrugged, putting back his tools.

“Are you sure?” You asked again.

“Yes,” he stood up, and as his eyes found yours, shining under the sunlight, you smiled at each other.

“Thank you so much!” You said, offering a hand for him to shake.

“I’m Fernando,” he said, and as you said your name back, he smiled a little shyly and just said, “I know.”

“You know?” You whispered.

“Yeah. I’ve seen you in your kart. You’re good.”

You bashed under his praise, cheeks warming and stomach full of butterflies.

From then on, you and Fernando became friends, always meeting up in karting competitions, despite being usually in different categories, since he was a bit older than you. But you’d always be seen together on those occasions, or either of you on the stands, cheering for the other. Your parents knew you were close friends, and after a while, your parents would take turns at taking you two for competitions, usually going together.

You met again when you got to the Spanish Junior Championship, it was your first time at that competition and it would be Fernando’s third. Your rivalry was mostly playful in that competition, you were still the best of friends, even when you got close to his score, you still managed to leave the rivalry on the track. When it ended and you stared up at Fernando from the second place podium, you felt proud of him, happy even. You understood that he had more experience than you, winning that competition three times in a row, and you always would have next year to catch up to him.

That day when he took your hand to walk back to his dad, he held your hand tight. And when they dropped you off at home, you winked at him.

“I’ll catch you next year.” You walked to the door hearing him and José Luis laughing back in the car.

You didn’t manage to catch him next year. Fernando reached new heights as he moved up to world championships. Life took you apart, and without your greatest opponent in the championship, you took it home for three years in a row.

The next few years, you and Fernando were mostly apart. The distance was eating you thin, even when you two managed to talk for a couple of hours on the phone, or whenever he sent you letters talking about his biggest achievements. You still saw each other over summer and winter, which was what mostly kept your bond strong. You also managed to kart for fun sometimes, or go for ice cream, or just sit on the porch of your house, talking about life. You two always shared an ice cream on your birthdays, a tradition that was born ever since you were 13, and you and Fernando gathered together every coin you had to be able to buy one ice cream cone that you happily shared sitting on a sidewalk.

“We’ll make it to Formula 1 one day, Nena.”

You laughed. Despite being the greatest dream of them all, by that time, it had been twenty years since the last woman had been in a Formula 1 car, really competing. You wanted to, so bad, but you didn’t want to get any hope for it to be crushed later on.

“You, most likely, Nano. You’re brilliant, I’m sure you’re going to be a world champion one day,” you said, playful, “just don’t forget us peasants when you’re rich and famous.”

“You have too much faith in me, Nena,” he shook his head.

“No, I just know stuff. When you get your world championship, I hope you will hear my voice in your head telling you I told you so.”

He laughed it off.

Fernando extended you a bottle of cheap wine, it was his way of celebrating your 18th birthday, now you were of age. The wine warmed you up, leaving a pretty stain in both of your lips. 

“What about that girl you liked? Are you dating her yet?” You asked to break the silence.

“No…” he shrugged then took the bottle from you to take a chug straight from it, “she’s not for me.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, even though he didn’t look particularly unhappy about it.

“Don’t be. It was just a silly crush,” his lips turned down, “The girls don’t find me attractive enough,” he shook his head, feeling shy for having this conversation with you, “and I don’t know, I’ve always been a little shy, I guess. I don’t have much experience in romance. None, if I’m being honest.”

“None?!” You sounded shocked at his lack of romance. He just shook his head. 

At eighteen you had your fair share of teen love, having crushes here and there, sometimes even sharing kisses under the bleachers at school. Fernando was your best friend and you knew him like no one, and you could see that he was lonely and feeling embarrassed, up until that point, his life had been school, karting and work to fund his karting.

“Would you like to?” You asked, suddenly turning to him after drinking a sip of courage from the wine bottle.

“Like to what?” He frowned.

“To be kissed?” You whispered, and looked behind you, inside your house, where your parents were inside.

Your heart raced faster than you ever did, his pretty eyes looking for your face, trying to find any sign of joking, like you were just being silly. But you were serious, looking at his face intently. You were about to back pedal when he nodded softly.

“What-” his voice failed, and he gulped nervously, “what should I do?”

“Just follow my lead, and you will feel what to do,” you said, extending a hand and holding his face, “close your eyes.”

He did, and you just closed the distance quietly, but when you had barely touched his lips with yours, he bursted out laughing, leaning back. You also laughed at the strangeness of the situation.

“It’s ok, we don’t have to, Nano” you recovered, but he shook his head, giggling.

“No, sorry, sorry! You’re my favorite person, I trust you,” he sighed, closing his eyes again.

You held his face, trying to get closer again, and this time he let you. With a soft press, you pecked his lips for a couple of seconds. You felt butterflies in your stomach, and they pushed you to push into his lips, mouth opening a little and him following your lead. One of his hands found your face, and you deepened the kiss. He was inexperienced but surprisingly patient, letting you lead and slowly picking your pace and moves. Your kiss turned into an almost make out session, lasting long minutes, with Fernando getting the hang of it with every passing second. When you parted, his cheeks and lips were red, and you two smiled nervously at each other.

“Was that ok?” You asked, suddenly insecure.

“More than ok,” he whispered back, “I think we-”

A loud noise from inside your house made you two jump away from each other, and a second later, your mom’s voice boomed through the door, reminding you of your curfew, and checking your watch, you noticed it was almost eleven.

“Sorry, Nano. I have to go,” you stood up and he followed you.

“See you Saturday to go karting?” He asked just to confirm the plans you had made earlier.

“See you,” you waved awkwardly before sprinting inside your house.

Skipping to your room, you locked the door behind you and pressed a hand to your lips, still warm from kissing your best friend. Going to your window, you pulled on the curtains and watched through the gap as Fernando left, calmly walking down the street.

You never talked about it. And when you met again at the end of the week, none of you mentioned the kiss, things quickly went back to normal as you two pretended it never happened. Over a few months, your heart never let you forget about the kiss you shared with your best friend, and whenever you laid in bed to sleep, your mind would wander back to that specific night. You spent months building up the courage to confess you had feelings for him, and you wanted to be more than friends. Your choice was to tell him on his birthday, when you usually would go for a birthday ice cream.

“I need to tell you something-” You said at the same time he muttered, “Can I tell you something?”

“Go ahead,” he said, gesturing to you, but at that point, your bravery quickly faded.

“No, you first. You’re the birthday boy!”

“Uh, I’m dating a girl. I’m going to introduce her to you and my family at the birthday party tonight.”

That moment, with a smile frozen on your face, a small part of you was ripped forever. The excitement and fear of a young love turned into stone at the pit of your stomach. To this day, you don’t know how you managed to not burst into tears that very moment. Instead, you kept smiling, asking Fernando for more details so he could get distracted and not notice the pain in your eyes.

Managing to bury what you decided to call a silly teen infatuation after a few months, your friendship with Fernando became even stronger everyday that passed. 

You made it to the international and European competitions, winning the former twice in a row, and the latter once. You were in the Euro Open when Fernando made it to Formula 1.

He told you personally, when he signed with Minardi, and you were so happy you jumped on his arms, hugging him tight and screaming.

“I told you! I told you!” You shouted, as he carried your feet from the floor, “My best friend is in Formula 1! Oh my god, Nano!” You let go of him, your smile barely fitting your face, “I’m gonna be insufferable! I’m claiming bragging rights right now!”

He only laughed at your happy ramble.

You balanced your competitions with working double shifts for almost two months, so you could afford to go to the Spanish Grand Prix the year of his Formula One debut. He didn’t win anything that year, but he still had your immense support every step of the way. When waves of self doubt came and left him shaken, you’d hug him and whisper softly how he was just a rookie, how he would still have time to prove himself.

“You’re gonna be one of the best there is, Nano.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

He also would show you support whenever your schedule at the Euro Open didn’t coincide with his at Formula 1. It was one of the best feelings to get to the podium and see your best friend as you held the trophy. When you finally found him after the podium, he hugged you for a moment, commenting on his favorite moments from your race. As you stood, he gestured to someone, and a beautiful girl came closer.

“Nena, this is my girlfriend, Lucia,” he pointed. Your smile froze for a second. Another one, since the girl from last year couldn’t handle the distance of dating someone who was constantly traveling the world.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” You shook her hand, suddenly self conscious of your frizzy hair and sweat damp overalls. She was so pretty. So much prettier than you. 

Lucia was pretty and kind, a little bit clingy, but she treated you very well, and wasn’t jealous of your friendship with Fernando, different from the last one. All your flings never went as far as becoming boyfriend or girlfriend, so you decided to focus more on racing and trying to make a name for yourself.

“Fernando,” you called one of the rare days you two were both free and could laze around, this time, sitting on the ground of the garden, staring at the clear sky and sharing a pint of ice cream.

“Hm?”

“I talked to your dad, and you’re going to be free the day of the last race of the Euro Open, so I was wondering if you will come to see me become the champion?” You turned to him, a smile adorning your face.

“Confident, are you?” He teased your certainty that you would win the competition.

“Not confident, just focused,” you corrected him, and started explaining the date of the race, but as you talked, his smile quickly faded and you stopped.

“I’m sorry, Nena. It’s Lucia’s graduation that day, I can’t miss it.”

You swallowed, thinking it would matter so much to you that he’d be there, but at the same time, you didn’t want to be selfish or make it seem like you’re competing with the girl he loved. You tried to disguise the disappointment in your face, but he noticed. At that point he knew you for half of your lives, he knew very well when you tried to mask your sadness. And unfortunately, he had been on the receiving end of that sad face one too many times.

“Oh,” you nodded, “Don’t worry, I totally understand.”

Fernando pressed his lips thin, your meek voice doing nothing to soothe the squeezing in his heart.

The day you won the Euro Open, you could barely contain your happiness as you stood on the podium, showing your trophy to your parents, who were watching you all emotional. As the podium ceremony finished, you walked back to your parents, your mom wiping her tears and your dad the happiest. Then, you finally noticed Fernando was with them.

“Nano!” You hugged him.

“Congratulations, champion!” He said. Your heart was so full you thought it would explode, so all you managed to say were two words.

“You came.”

“You called.”

Later you found out through your mom, who found out through Fernando’s mom, who found out from Fernando’s dad, that Fernando and Lucia had broken up. They said it was because of the distance and the relationship didn’t last more than seven months. You couldn’t blame her, you as his best friend barely saw him that year either.

You became a reserve driver for Renault in 2003, meeting Flavio Briatore yourself after you won the Formula 3000 two years in a row. You knew that, by that time, Fernando had ties with Flavio, but the man assured you it had nothing to do with Fernando, and everything to do with you being extremely talented.

Still, that same week you found Fernando, to inquire if he had anything to do with Flavio’s invitation, but he assured you that you’d achieved that with your own merit. The unexpected chance to race came when by the end of the following year, Fernando’s teammate was fired by the end of the season. So you had to replace him for the remaining three races of the season, the team fighting for P2 in the constructors championship. The first two races you went alright placing P7 and P5, but still not where you wanted to place.

“Hey, you’re doing great, Nena,” Fernando told you right before the race started. He knew you were upset, frustration practically emanating from your body.

“Not as great as I can do,” you shook your head.

“Just do your best, ignore everything else.”

You nodded, before closing your overalls and gettin ready to get in the car. That race, you and Fernando managed to race just like in your karting days, with a silent partnership never seen before coming from Fernando. You placed a 2-3 podium, him ahead of you.

When you got out of the car, you jumped straight into his arms, screaming and celebrating. Your first ever podium in Formula 1.

During post race interviews you accidentally let out to the media that you and Fernando were childhood best friends, which they took as a personal reason to go digging into your lives.

Next season, Flavio signed you with the team. But before anything, he sat you down for a talk. He explained how Fernando would be top priority this year, you were a rookie, and they would offer you all the support but you had to help Fernando first.

“You will gain experience, work together with your best friend, and we can achieve great things this year. And depending on how good of a performance you show this year, next year you will be able to race for the championship, yes?” Flavio explained.

And you were fine with that, Fernando would be the main priority while you took the year to get used to the car, to being in an entirely new category, while helping your best friend reach his peak. It was the dream, finally. It was the thing both of you had daydreamed together, nothing could get in the way of that.

So you did just that. You kept your head down, fighting fiercely against your rivals, and keeping yourself out of the way whenever you and Fernando were close in a race. Your time would come, as Flavio had promised. That season you managed good results in the points, and even got five podium finishes, which landed you fourth in the drivers’ championship and managed Renault to win the constructors.

That day in Interlagos, during the Brazilian Grand Prix, you woke up knowing Fernando would become world champion. You didn’t tell him to not put any more pressure on him. He only needed a podium to mathematically become the champion of the world.

He finished P3, and you finished P7. Seeing Fernando radiantly happy, dancing, shouting and jumping was etched forever in your brain as one of your happiest memories. The way he eventually found you, holding you firmly against him, the both of you crying happy tears became headlines all around the world.

“I told you, didn’t I?” You broke the hug so you could stare into his red rimmed eyes.

“You did. You’re right more often than not, I’ve come to realize.” He whispered. When someone tried to put a mic in your faces, Fernando pushed it away.

“This is your moment, go.” You gestured to the other side, where he had to go before the podium.

Looking up from the ground to Fernando, you were so happy you thought your heart would burst open. And you couldn’t wait for it to be your turn, to feel this happiness the other way around.

That night, you, Fernando and the entire team got ready to party, to celebrate his championship. You dressed up to the nines, putting makeup and spending a good half an hour styling your hair. When you left the elevator, meeting the whole team at the lobby, they shouted and whistled saying you were pretty. It made you a bit shy but you liked the attention.

You and Fernando danced and drank like crazy that night, going strong all the way into the morning. When the party ended and you two sat on your suite balcony, watching the sun rise, you bought out an ice cream pint you had kept in the room minibar.

“How do you feel, Mr. World Champion?” You sat cross legged in front of him.

“Like a dream come true, sometimes I don’t even believe it’s real,” he said, staring into the horizon.

“Remember when we would talk about this moment?” You took his hand in yours, as he nodded, “Wow. This is great. I’m so happy for you, and happy for fifteen year-old Nano, the bright eyed boy that fixed my kart charge free.”

It’s barely a second after you finished speaking that Fernando leaned into your space and just kissed your lips. It took you a second to understand what was going on, but when his hand found your hair, you reciprocated. His lips, that had been cold from the ice cream quickly became warm under your ministrations. You held his shoulders and let him pull you closer, until you were straddling his lap. The kiss was messy, all over the place, clanking lips, teeth and tongue. You moaned softly as he squeezed your ass, and you pulled his hair at the nape, grinding down on his lap, making him groan too.

“We should not,” he said, breaking the kiss. You nodded, panting.

“Yeah, totally, we-” you tried to speak but he nipped at your neck and you lost all train of thought.

“No, we won’t ruin-” he tried again but you pulled his hair, forcing his head up so you could kiss him.

“You’re right-” you muttered against his lips, right before smashing it when you kissed him again. You stayed there, kissing, making out like you were teenagers again, too scared to reach for each other's clothes and take the next step.

When the sun was fully up in the sky, and whatever was left of the ice cream had melted, your alarm rang, and you and Fernando parted. You were about to invite him to sleep with you for a few hours when he paused, his face worried. Fernando took one of your hands.

“This is a one time- thing, right?” He frowned, and you swallowed before nodding.

“Yes, of course.” You don’t correct him with memories of your eighteenth birthday.

“I just, I don’t want anything to ruin our friendship,” he stared at you, visibly scared for your friendship, and you didn’t have the heart to ask for more.

“It won’t ruin, I promise. If you want, we can forget it ever happened,” you said, hoping and praying he would change his mind. But he looked relieved at your words.

After he left, you sat down on the bed, disheartened, knowing that these scraps of affection would have to be stored in a safe spot inside your heart, and would be nothing more than memories, and what-ifs you’d only dare to look at late in your sleepless nights. You wondered how many times he would have to undervalue your romantic affections for you to understand he didn’t want you and never would. That was the second time you shared a moment, and the second time he had dismissed it. It’s not meant to be, you whispered to yourself.

When the new season started, you had gotten a grip over your feelings for him, focused on moving on. Being in love with your best friend for around a decade was pathetic enough.

Fernando was great during the start of the season, scoring two wins within the first three races. And despite not being the results you wanted, you placed top ten in all of them, even managing one podium finish.

When the fourth race came, though, it was when you and Fernando started to collapse. It was a very carefully plotted race for you and your team, and after managing your tyres with care, you didn’t have to pit twice. And you won, for the first time ever, you stood on the top of the podium. Unfortunately, Fernando didn’t get a podium. Holding your trophy, you looked down from the podium looking to your team, and searching for Fernando.

He wasn’t there, and your heart shattered a bit with his absence.

Maybe he had a problem and couldn’t be there for you. Maybe he was busy.

You went down to speak to the press, happily talking about strategies, how you and your team masterminded it, how you managed to preserve your tyres for longer than expected.

“How do you and Fernando manage to balance your friendship out of the track with the rivalry happening inside the track?” Someone asked. You were caught by surprise, taking a few seconds to actually compute the words he said.

“Well, I haven’t seen Fernando yet, but I believe he’d be happy for my good result as much as I’d be happy for him,” you told him, but immediately regretted it as the reporter had a gotcha expression on his face.

“Well, actually, this is what Fernando said a few minutes ago when he gave an interview-”

The man gave you a tape recorder attached to a pair of headphones, and your stomach filled with dread as he pressed rewind and play.

“Fernando, today’s win puts your best friend as a contender for the championship, what do you say?”

“Well, I believe she is talented, but too young and not yet ready to face me and actually compete for the championship.”

His voice was bitter, like he didn’t see you as nothing but a bug under his shoes. Instead of making you sad, it only left you seething in anger, but as you removed the headphones, you controlled the urge to smash the headphones on the nearest wall and smirked coldly to the camera that was waiting for your reaction.

“What do you think about Fernando saying you’re still not ready to become world champion?” The reporter urged, waiting for a beef that he would successfully get.

“Well, I guess he feels threatened by me, so I’ll take that as a compliment,” you shrugged, not caring about adding more fuel to the fire. If Fernando thought he could go running his mouth and you’d be fine or not jab him back, he was in for a surprise.

After wrapping up the interviews, you finally managed to go to your room and take a shower. You were getting ready to leave when Fernando found you again, walking into your room without bothering to knock. You didn’t even look at him, just kept packing your bag.

“Nena…”

“Don’t fucking talk to me,” you shook your head, holding on to the anger instead of allowing yourself to be sad. How he was able to ruin your first ever win in Formula 1, you couldn’t know.

“Nena, please, just-” He tried again, blocking your path to the door.

“No! Fuck you, Fernando!” You took a step back, letting your bag fall to the floor, an accusatory finger pointing to his face, “How dare you do this to me? You know how many times I cheered for you? How many times I wasn’t even on the podium and still, I was happy for you? Huh? I was there for you every step of the way, and you can’t be there for me once? Now you go out there and disregard my win in front of the whole world? What did I ever do to you for you to say that shit about me?” Your voice trembled, but you refused to cry in front of him, “I’d never do that to you, you selfish asshole.”

“I shouldn’t have said that, but I was pole and didn’t even manage to turn it into a podium? I was upset, the strategy fucked me up! I know I should not have said that! You’re right! I was selfish and an asshole-”

“Damn right you were!” You shouted, then picked up your bag, “I don’t want to see you right now.”

You walked past him, leaving at once.

That night, you went to celebrate with the team and without your teammate, you got pretty wasted, dancing and drinking like you had never done before. You refused to let yourself feel down because of Fernando’s big mouth. Dancing the night away, you didn’t stop even when people on the team asked you to, since you were getting out of hand. You were grinding on a stranger, dancing to reggaeton when you felt a hand on your arm.

“Let’s go,” the voice said and you turned, seeing Fernando in front of you. He looked like he was dressed in pajamas and hair all disheveled.

He was asleep when someone on the team called him because they wanted to leave and you were being difficult, so they hoped that your best friend could come pick you up and convince you to leave.

“Excuse me?!” You pulled your arm from him.

“We’re leaving!” Fernando said, pointing to where your team was, seeing it empty, “you’re not going to stay here alone.”

Begrudgingly, you let him lead you outside, one hand in your arm, and the other one on your back. You stumbled in your heels, and Fernando pressed you against the wall, kneeling to remove your shoes and help you walk better outside. Silently, he drove you back to the hotel, while you were with your arms crossed and sulking.

He walked you to your room, helping you change into pajamas, then tucked you into the bed. He stood there for a second, pushing your hair away from your face as you closed your eyes, letting his knuckles run over your cheek softly.

“I wish-” you mumbled, sleepy, “I wish you were happy for me.”

His eyes filled with tears, seeing just how awful he had been to you. A dream was coming true and all he could think of was himself.

“I am, Nena. I’m so happy for you,” He said, but you didn’t answer, already asleep, due to being tired from the race and heavily drunk.

You woke up with a pounding headache and a stomach churning hangover. Still, you showered, drank tea and got ready to go home. When Fernando knocked on the door of your hotel room later that day to apologize, you were already on a flight to Spain. Your birthday would be later that week and your family wanted to throw you a dinner party. 

Your birthday was nice, despite obviously feeling Fernando’s absence.

You were sitting alone on the porch, after the party, when he showed up, late in the night. You didn’t say anything as he walked up to you.

“Peace offering?” Fernando showed you a small ice cream pint “I’m so sorry. I never meant to undermine you. I was a jerk, and you didn’t deserve any of it. I’m so, so sorry.”

You hesitated for a second, but his eyes were so gentle, remorseful, that you couldn’t help but give in. You jumped into his arms so suddenly he almost dropped the ice cream, but he managed to balance it and hug you back with the other arm.

“Happy birthday, Nena,” he whispered, 

“Thank you,” you said, without letting him go, “I’m sorry too. I apologize for implying you felt threatened by me.”

“You should have called me worse things,” he whispered.

You ended up sharing the ice cream once again, talking about life.

Deep down, you hoped things would go back to normal, but a part of you knew that things would never be the same. You two were too much alike for anything to work. Too proud. Too stubborn. Too competitive. When you were good, it was great, but when you were mad, your words were daggers.

The both of you tried to stay normal the next couple of races, but it was strained, forced, especially when you were racing each other. You supposed Fernando was used to you backing down for him, since it was all you had done the year before when you were a rookie. But now you were used to the car, to explore all the possibilities while pushing your tyres to their maximum, while trying insane strategies and making it work. You were a risky driver, just like him, often seen as reckless.

All the while, the media started catching up to it. They went digging to find pictures of you and Fernando when you were kids, in karting and junior competitions, finding out people to interview, old classmates, people you two had met over the years, telling everyone about your close friendship, about you growing up together. Despite you both refusing to comment on your past, the journalists would always find a way to learn more and more about you.

Eventually, it got to your nerves, harsh words were often said whenever questions were thrown at you. You were in a press conference, where Fernando was also there along with a few other drivers.

“It is noticeable that you and Alonso’s driving style is very similar, would you say that he taught you everything you know?”

You didn’t like his tone, you hated whatever he was implying, not because of Fernando, but because it meant to reduce your efforts and abilities.

“No, Alonso has no part in my racing,” your tone was firm against the mic, and you could feel Fernando’s eyes on you, two chairs away on your left.

“But you grew up together?” The man insisted, and you loudly sighed, exhausted from everyone trying to make you talk about it all the time.

“And that doesn’t mean anything!” You said with gritted teeth.

There was a moment of silence right after your outburst, and you didn’t dare to look anywhere besides ahead. When the questions moved on to other drivers, you breathed again. Finally sparing a glance to Fernando, he only looked at you for a fleeting moment, but you knew him so well, you could recognize his teary eyes. Only then it dawned on you how badly you fucked up by insinuating he didn’t mean anything to you.

When the conference ended, you watched as Fernando left really quickly, not even looking in your direction. You ran, trying to find him, going to his room that was right beside yours.

“Fernando-” You walked inside, not even bothering to knock.

“So, our friendship means nothing!” He shook his head, looking disappointed.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Nano!”

“Now I’m Nano again?” He scoffed.

You wanted to cry and plead, to explain that you never meant it this way. You were just tired of people trying to attribute your success to others. You were tired of people comparing the two of you, and saying everything you were came from him, just because he joined the category five years before you. 

“Fernando, please-”

“Leave.” His eyes were cold, almost detached when he pointed to the door.

“Please, Nano…” You whispered, feeling your own eyes welling up with tears. He just shook his head ‘no’ again.

You walked out quietly, not allowing your tears to fall down as you got into your room, inhaling and puffing your chest. You didn’t let up, trying to talk to him again, because it was just a misunderstanding.

Three days later, you tried to find him again, after the race ended, hoping he would have calmed down after a good result, a P2 in that race. You knocked on his door and entered. He was changing clothes as you walked in, he finished dressing a shirt.

“What?” He said, barely looking at you, as he sat down on the sofa, brushing his hair.

“I wanted to talk about what I said during-” your words were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in!” Fernando said, and soon, two pretty girls walked in, wearing pretty dresses, one blonde and the other brunette, “pretty girls!”

You recognized they were grid girls, and they looked familiar from this weekend.

“Can we talk?” You said, trying to make him at least send the girls away for a moment.

“I’m listening,” he smirked, and you gulped as the blonde ran a hand up and down his chest. The brunette leaned into his ear with a seductive smile, whispering something.

“Fernando, please…” You asked again and he didn’t even look at you, laughing at something the girls whispered to him, “I’m sorry,” you whispered, before turning in your heels and leaving his room.

Shame and jealousy burned inside you.

He started giving you a silent treatment from then on and three races later, your silent strain came to a head, once again.

You were right behind him at the race, you P3 and him right ahead, but you had enough speed to outpace him soon, maybe a couple more laps and you’d equal him enough to try and overtake, you rode turn 2 smoothly, but as you two kept going, Fernando half a second in front of you, he suddenly hit the brakes, making you hit his rear.

“What the fuck? He brake tested me!” You shouted into the radio, reassessing, you gulped, noticing the damage to your front right tyre, “I’ve got damage!”

You called into the box to change your tyre, which fucked up your entire strategy, and made you go from the P3 to P9 in the grid. You managed to recover a little bit, but still ended P5 and out of the podium.

The rage was burning your chest as you went to the garage absolutely fuming. After all the podium proceedings and celebrations, you waited for Fernando, but he just walked past you without a care in the world. That made you even more pissed, and nobody managed to hold you when you tossed your helmet aside and marched up to him.

“That was really fucked up, Fernando!” You cut his path, making him stop short. Suddenly a bunch of people started gathering around you two, everyone ready for a show.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He shrugged, but you knew him like the palm of your own hand, and you knew that condescending smile he showed you.

“You are a fucking coward if you have to brake test me just to get a podium,” you said, venomous, feeling your dad trying to pull you away and dissipate the commotion. But you weren’t done, “you’re pathetic, Fernando.”

“That’s enough!” Your dad said, pulling you back.

“Or maybe you’re just not good enough, have you thought about that?” Fernando said back, and you jumped on him, trying to get close enough for violence, but your dad held your waist, removing your feet from the ground and pulling you back.

“Man up, Fernando! You fucking asshole!” You shouted as your dad dragged you back into the garage.

Your dad placed you inside your room, grabbing water so you could drink and calm down. When he turned back, a sob broke from your throat, and you covered your mouth with a hand, trying to muffle the sounds of your crying. You shook as you cried again, your dad hugging you close and murmuring to you to let it all out.

You never thought your friendship with Fernando would ever come to this. You weren’t even sure of how the buildup happened that led to this.

“I don’t recognize him anymore, Papá. I don’t recognize my best friend anymore,” you shook your head, your voice breaking in hiccups. You pressed the plant of your hand to your eyes to try and stop the tears falling down, but it was useless.

“It’s ok, bebé. You’re both hotheaded, you need to talk calmly, try and fix it.”

You didn’t try to talk to him. He was wrong when he brake tested you, and if he couldn’t apologize for that, and for the hurtful words he said, then it was better to stay that way.

It only got worse as the season went on, the team tried to force you to give him advantages, but you refused many times, making the competition for the World Drivers Championship be between the two of you.

“We need to talk,” Flavio called you a day after another one of your wins, one that Fernando placed third, one that he didn’t even look at your face when you were up there.

“What happened?” You sat down in front of him by the table.

“You have to follow team orders. When we say you have to switch places with Fernando, you switch. You are deliberately going against orders, what is going on? You and Fernando are now in a cold war, the media caught up, the other drivers caught up too, why-”

“Am I the only one getting lectured?” You crossed your arms, seeing Flavio getting red in the face, angry.

“No. I want answers from both of you, and the way you’re being aggressive with each other, we believe it’s better to talk to you separately,” Flavio sighed, “What is happening? Before it was interesting, a beautiful rivalry, but now you way past that. You’re harming your own races and the team.”

“You talk to Fernando. He thinks because I won’t back down he needs to use every dirty trick in the book to damage my race. If he can’t handle competition like an adult, then he shouldn’t be here.”

Suddenly, the door opened, which made you jump. Fernando walked inside, fuming.

“So that’s what you think of me?” He raised his voice.

“Yes, you have been acting like a fucking kid,” you stood up.

“Me? You told the whole world our friendship means nothing to you! Have you any idea how that made me feel?!” Fernando got closer.

“Do you know how many times people disdain my career to pin it to someone else? To attribute my successes to you, or to Flavio, or even my dad?! You’ve got no idea what it's like being a woman here!”

“Power got to your head! You think you have to walk all over everyone to get what you want!”

“Power?! Literally every man here does that! You do that too, Fernando!”

“Funny you say that since you wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me!” He shouted, pointing a finger to the ground.

“Fernando, stop.” Flavio muttered, coming closer to where you were face to face with Fernando.

You frowned, your anger completely dissipated and what was left was dread. And a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“What?” You hated how your voice was nothing more than a vulnerable whisper.

“Fernando, enough!” Flavio commanded out loud, gesturing with a hand.

“What do you mean, Fernando?!” You asked again, ignoring Flavio trying to pacify the fight.

“I was the one to ask Flavio to sponsor you. I asked him to take a shot and invest in your career!” Fernando’s words were poison and in his eyes you couldn’t see anything left of your former best friend.

“Is it true, Flavio?” You asked but your eyes never left Fernando’s.

“Yes, but if we calm down, we can talk like adults.”

You couldn’t even come up with words, speechless not only from what Fernando told you, but from the tone he used. It was like he had punched you straight in the gut. You couldn’t contain your tears anymore, the lump in your throat threatening to suffocate you. You wanted to jump on him, to push him to the ground and punch his face. You wanted to scream in his face and call him all the dirty names you could think of. You tried to hold onto the anger but your limbs were still, and the pain expanded inside you like wildfire. He had lied to you, in the biggest step of your career he had lied to you. Even when you pressed for answers, he lied straight to your face.

You stared into his eyes one last time. It was the first time he had seen you really cry. He had seen you teary eyed or even emotional before, but it was the first time he had seen you truly cry.

“You’re dead to me, Fernando.”

Was all you managed to rasp, fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Flavio called your name as you walked away, but you never looked back and didn’t stop until you were inside your car, wailing like a baby. You sobbed all the way back to the hotel. You cried as you packed your bags, and tried but failed to contain your tears all the way back home, until you were at your parents’ door, sobbing on their sofa.

They didn’t ask anything until a couple of hours later when you managed to stop crying.

“I hate Fernando, so much, Mamá,” you whispered.

“Honey, don’t say that. Don’t do or say something you might regret later on,” She told you. You shook your head.

“I’m done with him. Done.” You bit back a sob, “he was so cruel, you had to see it.”

“He’s your best friend, dear. I’m sure it will be alright later on.”

“You should’ve seen the hate in his eyes, I don’t know him anymore. That’s not my Nano.”

So, your racing career was a lie. You didn’t make it because of your talent or your efforts. You were in Formula 1 because of Fernando. That was the cruelest thing someone ever said to you, not only because he was mean in the way he said it, but because with a few words he diminished your entire career. And what could you come up with to contest? He was right. You would never be there without him.

You wanted to give up so badly at that moment. You wanted to stay home and never come back, but you knew you couldn’t, your sense of duty was loud and you had to make it work. You had to prove that you deserved your spot in Formula 1, that all of Flavio’s forced investment on you was worth it.

You had to prove to Fernando you were more than a friend he pitied, more than a charity case he took so he could throw it at your face later.

It was one of the hardest things to realize and accept, the fact that he wasn’t your friend anymore. Maybe he never was. Despite all the disagreements the past couple of years, and all the beautiful history you had before the pinnacle of motorsport, maybe he never saw you as a friend. You thought you’d never treat a friend the way he treated you.

So you had to prove Fernando wrong.

NOTE: If you want to be tagged on part 2, please let me know in the comments!

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 fic #f1 #formula one #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso #brocedes #Spotify

[transbrucewayne]

F1 but it’s ultra specific ship dynamics that I need in order to enjoy the ship:

Versainz: baby’s first situationship (literally pentaltyboxbox’s art is my versainz thesis. “Ay, Max, no. I am not gay and neither are you” 🤨) teammates who weren’t supposed to like each other reluctantly becoming friends and then being intricately connected for the rest of their careers. But totally not in a gay way. Of course.

Chestappen: repressed catholic and some guy who needs dilf pussy so bad he wants to kill himself (this is deeply important to me)

Strollonso: Brat princess Lance. Heros and anti-heroes. I’m on the dark side. Tell Lance not to worry I just want to build a gap with the cars behind. You’re my fucking hero.

Carlando: Baby’s first situationship pt.2?? Lando with a massive crush, first real boyfriend Carlos….i need there to be angst. Lando fell first AND harder, etc.

Britcedes/Gewis: George fumbling all over himself trying to impress Lewis, Lewis just thinking he’s cute no matter what. It’s the coolest man alive/weird little freak he’s obsessed with pairing of my dreams. George: this is my boyfriend he’s cooler than me and also he’s cooler than all of you.

Maxiel: first love married divorced remarried pining missing something that maybe was never there will they won’t they one big game of gay chicken healing from baby’s first situationship etc etc etc (I adore them)

Dando: trying to find solace in another, longing for someone you can’t get back, subversion of expected dynamics (controversial: I fully believe Lando tops in this one). But also. They need to have one brain cell. Lando blabbing on about god knows what. Daniel sweating and popping a vein bc of how much he needs to kiss him.

Twinklaren/Landoscar: third time’s the charm, oh you’re the one I’ve been waiting for, tender glances, young love, first teammate crush syndrome

Danterri: we had something weird in the past. “Find another weed guy I can’t fuck with you…uhhhmm nothing personal I can’t fall in love right now and youre Everything I love so if I ever see you again I’ll never let go of your hand sooo yeah” (we’ve all seen that one web weaving.) Are you dating the female version of me?

Lecciardo: WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED IN VEGAS. Charles needs dick from a guy with unstoppable charisma soooooo bad. Fueling each other’s impulsive sides, etc etc

Sebchal: baby’s first situationship (Charles’ version) (from the vault) I miss you so much I’m going to listen to breakup songs all night long. I still think of you every day. I named you twice in a list of drivers. You may even kiss. If it was the omegaverse Seb is so obviously an alpha.

Brocedes: if it doesn’t make me physically sick to my stomach with anguish I do not want it. I hope you die I hope we both die. Hand in unlovable hand. I still consider him my best friend in my heart. We’re not friends. Are they lovers? Worse.

Chewis (Charles/Lewis. I recognise this is also the name for Checo/Lewis. What is the Charles/Lewis name?) me and the bad bitch I pulled by being in violation of that one article section. You know the post. They suffer together. Kinship in joint pain. You’ve got a long future ahead of you. Praise kink.

Let me know if you want a part 2, if so, send ships you want!

#PLEASE SEND ME FIC RECS #versainz #chestappen #strollonso #carlando #britcedes #maxiel #dando #twinklaren #mctwinks #landoscar #danterri #lecciardo #sebchal #brocedes #chewis #my post #max verstappen #carlos sainz #charles leclerc #lance stroll #fernando alonso #lando norris #george russell #lewis hamilton #daniel ricciardo #valterri bottas #sebastian vettel #nico rosberg #f1

[sainzinnorris]

a snippet of a brocedes drabble that im working on that doesn't really have a solid plot line?? it's literally just inspired from the many gifsets, textposts, and the many videos in the brocedes tag on tumblr.

— — — —

loving nico wasn't complicated.

loving nico was almost as simple telling everyone his favorite ice cream flavor. it was always the same, although arguable simplistic and basic, but no matter how many times he had vanilla ice cream, it always gave him the same level of comfort and happiness it did the first time.

just like nico does.

he thinks it's one of the easiest things he's ever done in his life.

lewis thinks there wouldn't be a single universe where he wouldn't love nico.

not loving nico was incomprehensible to lewis, it would feel too unrealistic.

nico was his best friend and the guy he loves.

nobody and nothing could ever take away what they shared. he was so sure of this. he was so darn sure of them.

— — — —

#stella's fics #formula one #formula 1 #f1 #formula 1 rpf #brocedes #lewis hamilton #lh44 #nico rosberg #nr6 #brocedes fic #f1 fic

[spyegate]

for lewis, the 2016 singapore grand prix weekend starts with a pain in his stomach. it ends with a baby.

#brocedes #brocedes fic #f1 rpf #brocedes fanfic #sorry for writing an mtv i didn’t know i was pregnant 😭