#britcedes rpf

[heliads]

kill your darlings - britcedes

Lewis is a world-class writer. George is the son of Lewis' publisher. Neither of them will get what they want from this, but that won't stop it from happening.

masterlist

Lewis is a famous author. World-class. The best of the best. Any work of his is guaranteed to go straight to the top of the charts, the reviews, the lists. Everything. He is universally adored, except by his rivals, and even they can admit, in quiet, backroom editor’s chambers, that Hamilton has the game locked down.

George is the son of the owner of Lewis’ publishing company. He likes to turn up to headquarters and sit in on some of the important meetings. This makes him feel like he’s really shaping up to take over the business, even though he knows his father is probably going to hand off the title to his vice president or something. Or maybe he would give it to George anyway. It would be the proper thing to do, and proper is what the Russells do best. He is not known by many, except his schoolmates and his blood, and their knowledge, embarrassingly, only feels skin-deep.

Lewis lives in the same apartment building as George. The complex itself is owned by George’s father; the elder Russell is a renaissance man like that, savvy in snapping up good deals the second they cross his path. George hopes he inherits the company, but most of all, he hopes he inherits that hunter’s instinct, the eye for blood and limping prey combined with the premonition of when to bite down hard on flesh and bone. Lewis was given the penthouse rooms of the Russell building at an inhumanely reduced price as an encouragement to stick with the company. George has the suite one floor below, and tries not to feel any particular way about it.

Lewis has a habit, when writing, of not just killing his darlings but brutally murdering them. When he finds a sentence he loves but cannot include, he writes it out on a piece of paper and flings it out of his apartment window. George, while walking his father’s dog in a great display of loyalty and maturity, kept finding the scraps of penmanship and saving them in his pocket. It took him about six months before he figured out that the abandoned words were Lewis’. He’s got them stuck up on a great big pinboard in his room, the literary fragments all shoved together like he’s some kind of serial killer. All he’s missing is the red thread connecting names and places, and maybe the bodies too.

The scrapped words look down on him now, always. When he sleeps. When he wakes. When he comes back from work, needlessly tired from doing relatively nothing, and sits perfectly rigid in his antique armchair, the one that isn’t particularly comfortable but is something that a man like him should have. It shows class, you know. It shows distinction. He’ll earn it someday, too. When George does something base, like clean mud off his trainers or think about Lewis before a cold shower, he turns his back on the crucified sentences. So Lewis can’t see. So Lewis won’t know.

Lewis looks down on George. Not intentionally. It’s rather easy to do with George. He simply has a way about him that makes it impossible for anyone like Lewis to be his equal. George believes it’s only due to his earnest quality, the fact that George won’t ever condescend to anyone. If he will not look down on someone, then they must look down on him, or else stare him straight in the face, which of course is not proper. He does look down on quite a lot of people, actually, or tries to, it just doesn’t work.

When Lewis caves and lets George bring him back to his place after leaving the publishing company’s end of year party early, he has George take him to bed only to find the glaring mass of his discarded darlings hanging over the queen size mattress. He cannot decide if he is disgusted or comforted by it. In the end, he tries not to look, and tells George to get on his knees so he has something to say. He comforts himself by believing that this was a one-night stand, and doesn’t everyone have horror stories about those?

It happens again, after that. Obviously. A story is only good if it bears repeating. Lewis does everything to not think about the twisted web of his abandoned words hanging above him as he does nameless things to George on that bed. He closes his eyes. He turns his back to it. One time, he tries having George blindfold him, but it occurs to Lewis about halfway through the affair that he does not entirely trust George to behave with him like that, not just naked but unwitting too, unaware of what George might do to him, maybe pin him up on that board along with the lines he didn’t need, so he immediately pulls it off and pretends as if nothing had happened. The words burn like tattoos against his exposed skin. It is heaven and hell but mostly nothing worth mentioning. 

Lewis leaves eventually, breaks up with George even though there wasn’t really anything to break up at all. Can you divorce a situationship? In a fit of rage, George pulls some strings and has his father restore Lewis’ rent back to full plus some extra. Lewis leaves the company and the apartment building. George tears down his wall of darlings and shoves them in the dumpster outside where they can rot along with the feelings that neither of them had about this. He finds one last scrap of paper with Lewis’ final word some months after he left. It’s a small piece, only big enough for one word:  George. George tries to think about what could have been written around it, if Lewis was bashing him or hating him or just letting go, and then throws up in the kitchen sink after turning it over too long in his head.

Some time later, years maybe or just months, Lewis and George cross paths again. They go back to George’s place. Lewis braces himself to walk into George’s bedroom but finds that the board of cut sentences is gone completely. He’s harder than he ever has been.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy, @juphey, @faerieroyal

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[umflowers]

that did not take long to write lol stripper george/canon lewis, pwp but with feelings-ish, respect for sex work, etc <3 squick warning for mild foot fetish, also there’s one tiny mention of weed

[chamberkat]

cigarettes after sex

(you can point out the exact moment George falls in love)

[lyslsstuff]

Mercedes's hunters, or rather, it's "Angels".

Weapons au by @roosterhouse !! had so much fun rendering this!!

[jusst-you-race]

the condominium community committee

chat fic, multi-chapter, (21/?)

George Hello, welcome to a group chat we have for the Formula apartment building! There are only 18 (20 now) of us so we like to keep in contact about the building maintenance and other neighbourly orders of business. I’m George, and I liaise with the building manager on behalf of all of us when there is a building specific issue rather than an apartment issue. Welcome to the building! Lando do u copy and paste that from ur notes every time Alex I bet he has it memorised

alternatively, the ridiculous chat fic where the f1 grid all live in the same apartment building

[formulaocean]

Just out of nowhere the crack ship that is Gax comes for you before it disappears for a while only to return and hit you across the face.

Personally, the funniest possible explanation for that Max & Lewis dinner date comment is that it was the manifestation of George unwillingly finding the both of them attractive yet being unable to process that information. He wants to be them and beat them and be with them but until then he's a 4433 truther 🥰

[crimsonicarus]

GR RPF FIC REC MASTERLIST!!

Long post!

Big shoutout to @arsenalgbt for suggesting i made a list, here are my fave GR fics, im a multishipper so it will be a couple or ships here, anyway, enjoy!

I wanted to also thank all the authors here listed for their awesome contributions to this lovely fandom, im really grateful for all your work <3333333

If any of the authors here listed would rather have their work taken down from this list please let me know .

new year's resolution by @wormeo-and-juliette

Pairing: OT3 Fernando Alonso/George Russell/Lance Stroll

Lance gets the text from Fernando well into the afternoon on the first day of the year: I slept with George.

Um. What?

eagle eyed by @prettydangrotten

Pairing: OT3 Alex Albon/George Russell/Logan Sargeant

���He’s watching, you know,” Alex says, voice level and conversational, like Logan being in the room is a normal part of this experience, “he’s hard.”

i’m your number one (it’s so obvious) by @63historian

Pairing: OT3 Lewis Hamilton/George Russell/Max Verstappen

“Tell him what you want, Georgie.”

He clenches his hole just as he starts begging, “I need you to come inside me, please, Max, please, I want it so bad.”

And who is Max not to obey such beautiful cries?

positive negatives by @ctimenefic

Pairing: Alex Albon/ George Russell

George doesn’t regret that shoot, exactly.

He had for a long time. After the first high of seeing the rushes wore off; after overhearing a murmured warning in general casting, days too late; after he woke up at three am to reread the release he’d blithely signed without thinking, and spent the next four hours staring at the ceiling hoping to wake up. He’d regretted it then.

For years after, the memory of it could hit like an ice cube sliding down his spine. Always, of course, at the most inconvenient moments. When he was working, or networking, when he needed his wits about him, couldn’t afford to stutter over his words. They’d put him in white silk, or offer him wine, or he’d walk into a room with slow, warm jazz playing, and the whole excruciating mess of it all would come back. He’d learnt how to smile through it, then how not to blink at all.

June is the coldest month of the year by @beabnormal24

Pairing: Max Verstappen/ George Russell

“Just don’t be a stranger, yeah?” It doesn’t sound as empty as George would’ve expected.

Max disappears in Monaco’s breeze with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket and his head turned to the side to look at the coast following him, or it’s him who follows the coast. It’s not that simple to guess when George feels the way he does about him.

He stares at the broad expanse of his back until he’s nothing more than a distant figure just like any other person around and he can pretend that he’s no one in the middle of the world.

The blessing of anonymity, he muses, gripping at the hems of his sleeves.

All of a sudden, his chest feels quiet.

nobody else by ginnydear

Pairing: Alex Albon/ George Russell

The Mercedes garage is almost overwhelmingly busy when Alex walks through the crowds of officials there.

or... what if the world was suddenly plunged into omegaverse and everyone started presenting at once... pt two.

 table in the back by @janinaduszejko

Pairing: Alex Albon/ George Russell

“Okay, here’s the offer." Alex says. "I’m going to make you something and if you don’t like it, you don’t pay. How does that sound?”

“So I get a good meal or a free meal?” George asks. “Sounds like a no-lose scenario.”

“Keen eye, George,” Alex grins. “Figured out my terrible business sense on the first try. Alright, take it or leave it.”

 all green lights

Pairing: Alex Albon/ George Russell

Sorry mate I think you've got the wrong number

chrome wheeled, fuel injected, and steppin' out over the line

Pairing: OT3 George Russell/Lance Stroll/Fernando Alonso

Lance and Fernando have been together for over two years and it is great. It is great apart from one minor detail. They are both dominant tops and the irritation is starting to grind them down. Enter Lance's ex-whatever, George Russell.

But George is not going to be as easy to get on board as Lance and Fernando think. He will give his whole heart but you have to open it up first.

DISCLAIMER: THE FIC IS NOW ON PERMANENT HIATUS

Very common crisis (series) by crimandclove

Pairing: George Russell/ Lance Stroll

January 2024 - George finds himself single, stressed, with a set of tits & one Lance Stroll in his home.

Calls and Cats by @raewritesf1

Pairing: George Russell/Max Verstappen

Things go awry when George’s video call with the quartet is interrupted by the form of a familiar half-naked Dutch driver wielding a Bengal cat in the background.

spread before you like a picnic by @janinaduszejko

Pairing: Alex Albon/ George Russell

Now, weeks later, he thinks that was probably the reason he’d said it, why when he came back to himself and noticed that Alex had manhandled him on his stomach and was in the process of peeling George’s jeans down, his first instinct was to say, panicky: “You can’t fuck me.”

it's not about having someone to love me anymore by linearity

Pairings: Alexander Albon/George Russell, George Russell/Toto wolff

George is an omega. He kind of hates himself for it.

Brake Balance by @russilton

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton/George Russell

"Why don’t you come dance?” With me goes unspoken, and George is eyeing him with a familiar look, like he’s sure Lewis will brush him off again, but he still wants to try.

Maybe it’s the buzz of alcohol. Maybe it’s the shiny skin of a tanned collarbone showing through George’s three open shirt buttons. Maybe it’s just the adrenaline of the whole day in general, but for once, Lewis thinks that sounds like a pretty good idea.

Stop overthinking, just go with it.

Bono’s words echo pointedly around his mind. Fuck it

ode to a conversation stuck in your throat by @prettydangrotten

Pairing: Alex Albon/George Russell

They’d agreed on friends when Alex had come to collect the last of his things from George’s flat. George had been adamant about it, all uncomplicated smiles, like they hadn’t just spent six months living in each other’s pockets and having some of the most bizarrely intimate sex of Alex’s life.

And friends is a noble intention, but. Alex still only has one friend who’s sucked him off in their driver’s room.

Allow yourself this happiness by Sonnenscheintraum

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton/George Russell

i can barely breathe (when you're here loving me)

When Lewis wakes up he knows he's going into rut. He will be able to get through the rainy and cold race in Spa if he takes enough suppressants.

But what if George by his side is actually making it worse for him to keep the rut in check?

How is he supposed to keep himself under control when George looks and smells like the most delicious way and makes him want to claim him?

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton/George Russell

Lewis Hamilton may be the sweetest person who ever stepped on earth and choose not to see the truth, but he deserves so much more than a broken, thirteen years younger college student.

So George does what is best for him.

 See my Vision (tell ‘em) by @russilton

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton/George Russell

“Feeling a little desperate, sweetheart?” It’s clearly rhetorical, but George nods anyway, and bites his lip at the conflicted emotions he sees cross Lewis’ face.

He knows it’s late, closer to Monday morning than Sunday night, but it’s been so long since they’ve had freedom to do whatever they want. He loves racing with his entirety, he even loves the intensive training and strict schedules, but he doesn’t love how the need to keep his body in perfect function for a race keeps him from Lewis.

George and Lewis have three weeks break between Monza and Singapore, and they just can’t wait anymore.

[nearmike]

George saw me writing a teacher x student gewis and said lemme dress the old man as a sexy math teacher

Not elaborating the whoring on ankles like a random victorian man

[nicbutnasty]

💛 gewis!!

Hello, thank you! And apologies for how long it took me to write ths one, but we got there in the end.

💛 reunion kiss/relief for George/Lewis | G | ~1K words

note: contains brief description of a fictional crash. George is mostly unharmed

It wasn’t a bad crash, all things considered. But still, Lewis can’t deny that his heart was in his mouth when the message came through on the radio. Car 63 in the barriers, DNF. George. That was over an hour ago now.

He would have been checked over by the medics and debriefed since then—nothing more than a few bruises and feeling a bit shaken up, supposedly—but Lewis needs to see for himself. Being a supportive teammate means offering comfort where he can, but maybe selfishly he needs to prove to himself that George is unharmed, to stop the way his heart kicks in his chest every time he thinks about it.

George would have done his own post-race interviews whilst the rest of them were still on track—Lewis knows how these things work by now—so as soon as he can extract himself from his own media duties, he finds himself standing outside George’s driver’s room. 

The door is slightly ajar, so Lewis knocks once and tentatively pushes it open. George is perched awkwardly there on the black vinyl sofa, as if a stranger in his own room. He looks so much smaller than he did in front of the crowds earlier that day, his lithe frame contorted into a protective curl, all elbows and knees, head in his hands. Something in Lewis’ heart clenches in sympathy at the sight. 

“Hey, George?” Lewis calls softly.

Wordlessly, George looks up, his eyes red-rimmed and watery.

Lewis crosses the room in a few strides, carefully sits next to him on the sofa. Now he’s closer, he can see George is trembling slightly, hear his breath coming out in quiet shudders. He gently wraps an arm around George, hoping for comfort rather than scaring him off.

He shouldn’t have worried, because George immediately leans into it, turning his head so his face is buried in Lewis’ shoulder. His fireproofs are probably all damp and sweaty, but George doesn’t seem to mind, just clings to Lewis like  a lifeline as his shuddering breaths turn to sharp, choking gasps. Lewis clutches him tightly, all the worry he’d pushed down in order to complete the race now bubbling up with the relief of having George here in his arms. 

Lewis rubs calming circles on George’s back, bringing his other hand to the nape of George’s neck to run his fingers through the soft hair there. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs, “It’s okay Georgie, baby, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

Slowly George’s breathing begins to even out. Lewis continues to hold him, stroking his back and murmuring soft nothings to him, until George suddenly pulls away with a jolt.

“I’m– I’m sorry,” he stammers out, scrubbing his face with his hands, “You shouldn’t have to–”

Lewis catches his hands and gently pulls them into George’s lap, where they flutter momentarily like a captive bird before stilling. George keeps his eyes lowered, body hunched over, as if ashamed.

“But I want to,” Lewis interrupts softly. He absently brushes his thumbs over the inside of George’s wrists, where the delicate veins show in blues and greens through the skin, a tangible reminder that George is alive and unharmed. Lewis takes a steadying breath. “Oh George,” he sighs fondly, “when I heard, I was so worried. I wanted to make sure you were okay, see if I could help.”

George finally looks up at him with his big wet eyes, lashes clumped together with tears. Lewis thinks he’s never looked so beautiful. “But why?” he asks.

“Because I care about you, man.” George doesn’t look convinced, so Lewis continues, “I do, I swear. Not just because we’re teammates or whatever, but because you’re you. You’re incredible, man, and every day I swear to god I’m thankful I know you. You’re talented, you’re kind-hearted, and you’re beautiful, and I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you in my life, but I–” He feels a lump in his own throat, huffs out a wet sort of laugh, “Well, I’m not questioning it.”

Lewis releases George’s wrists to cradle his face in his hands, thumbing away an errant tear. George’s eyes have gone wide and glassy now, cheeks flushed and mouth parted slightly, as if stunned Lewis could even think about him that way. Well, he can’t have that, can he?

Lewis leans in slightly, hoping he’s not crossing a line. But George, sweet George, always there to meet him where he’s at, follows his lead, his eyelids fluttering shut.

The kiss is tentative at first, George yielding easily. Lewis can taste the salt of shed tears on his lips, licks at the seam of them and George opens easily, malleable under Lewis’ careful attention. He gasps into the kiss as Lewis sucks at his lower lip, one hand coming up to fist in Lewis’ shirt. Lewis likes George like this, he thinks. Open, expressive, not afraid to show what he needs. 

Lewis pulls back slightly and George automatically chases him, swaying towards Lewis, lips parted. His eyes flutter open in momentary confusion and Lewis can feel him tense slightly, as if preparing for rejection.

Whatever he sees in Lewis’ face must reassure him though, as George settles back into his arms. 

“Hello,” Lewis murmurs.

“Hi,” George breathes. His lips are kiss-swollen and he’s flushed pink from cheeks down below the neckline of his shirt. Lewis idly wonders how far that flush extends.

A loud thunk from outside breaks the moment, followed by laughter and good-natured jeers of the pit crew. Beyond the room, the whole paddock is packing up and shipping out for the next race. As lovely as it is right here together on George’s tiny vinyl sofa, they can’t stay. 

Lewis pushes himself up off the sofa with a soft groan, extending a hand to George. “Come on, let’s get you back to the hotel and in your pyjamas.”

George takes his hand but remains sitting for a moment, looking up at Lewis with something akin to hope in his eyes. “Will you– will you stay?” he asks.

Lewis laughs softly. “Yes, of course I will,” he reassures, giving George’s hand a tug for good measure. 

This time, George goes willingly, keeping Lewis’ hand clutched tightly in his, whilst he reaches for his bag with the other. 

There’s the early morning flight back home tomorrow, a couple days to rest, then straight back on the plane to the hustle and bustle of the next race, the next country. But tonight, in the comfort of George’s clean hotel sheets, they’ve got all the time in the world.

[kylekirkwoods]

if you’re still taking requests for the headcannon ficlet

Gewis where lewis is possessively jealous of George

send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons a short ficlet about it possessive lewis is soooooo important to me. idk if i really hit the jealousy part, but i hope you enjoy this anon :D (also they fuck nasty after this btw)

the club is crowded and loud, bass pounding against george’s skull. trying to get from their table in the back to the bar has been awful, people bumping and pushing into him, trying not to trip on feet. when he gets to the bar, elbowing in between other patrons, trying to get the bartender’s attention, he notices the guy on his right checking him out.

“hey, beautiful, you come here often?” he asks. george glances at him quickly before trying to flag the bartender down again. the guy is tall, but not taller than george, bulky and sweaty under the bright, strobing lights; he’s not unattractive, per se, but george has no interest in anything he has to say.

“let me buy you a drink,” he continues. despite george angling himself completely away, the guy can’t seem to catch the hint, leaning closer. the bartender has finally acknowledged george, so he’s just hoping he can get their drinks quickly and go.

“no, thank you,” george says, polite but firm. he shifts a bit further away and is extremely grateful for the interruption of the bartender asking for his order. now all he has to do is hold on a few more moments for the drinks to be made.

again, the guy moves closer to george, forcing him to bump into the couple on his left side. george sends them a quick smile in apology, but he doesn’t know how much more obvious he can make his disinterest towards this guy. what, does he need a bright neon sign above his head, stating “not interested. please go away”?

right as the bartender passes the drinks across the bar top, george feels an arm snake around his waist and slip into his shirt. he’s ready to deck the guy, before he feels the comforting cool of lewis’s rings against his skin.

“is there a problem here?” he asks. george can hear the steel underlying lewis’s soft voice, cutting through the heavy bass despite not being all that loud. the guy, finally, gets the hint that george is decidedly not interested and leaves, and george slumps back against lewis.

“we’re leaving,” lewis says.

“what? but i just got alex his drink.”

“he’s fine. we’re going home.”

george can recognize the tone of lewis’s voice, the slight waver that betrays his anger. he knows how lewis gets when someone else touches what belongs to him. lewis is always deeply apologetic and embarrassed in the aftermath, but george likes belonging to lewis, he always has. and he can see how the rest of the night will play out pretty clearly, a future of vibrant bruises and bite marks on any bit of unblemished skin.

“alright,” george says, letting lewis drag him through the crowd towards the exit. he’s sure the rest of the group won’t mind having to close out his tab.

[heliads]

going down with the ship - britcedes

There are two people left on a sinking ship. One is Lewis. The other is George.

masterlist

There are two people left on a sinking ship. Well, more than two. There are, of course, dozens trapped in holds and cabins, held back by wreckage or condemned to flooding chambers. But there are two people who have a chance at getting out. One is Lewis. The other is George.

Lewis has found a door and a paddle, and will use his own strength to carry him away. George is sitting on the highest point of the slowly sinking ship, a polished, curved section of the balcony of one of the nicer decks, the one where the heirs and heiresses used to promenade when the sun was out and they were not sinking. At one point, when the ship had already rolled and pitched until the bow was looming considerably far out of the water, he had been the tallest one around for kilometers. 

Now, the boat has slowly, lethargically sunk, and George is hardly a few lengths from the water’s surface. It creeps towards him constantly, dark and cold, swallowing every bit of light it touches like the keening maw of an animal. Lewis floats just within arm’s reach, asking him to leave with the soft and smooth tone typically directed towards those in risk of going mad. His door is disconcertingly red, either from blood or a bad paint job. It looks garish against the dark water. George turns away from it instinctively. In a situation like this, one must always maintain their dignity.

George focuses on the lapping of the water against the pristinely painted hull, letting it drown out the sounds of Lewis’ faint pleas. He will have to go at some point, perhaps. Or maybe he could stay here. Stand resolute on the shining wood until the water takes him. It would make a beautiful sight.

“We can still make it out,” Lewis says. 

He’s starting to lose the calm lilt to his words as the dark water creeps increasingly closer to the worn shoes of George’s feet. He had been a cabin boy in another life, George, or maybe just the life that had existed a few hours ago, before the grand and glorious ship struck an iceberg, before the immaculate hull was pierced, before the masterpiece of engineering design became no better than a stone in the largest puddle it could hope to see. Before the end, George had run around from first class cabin to first class cabin, refilling drinks, bowing and scraping, and wearing his uniform with pride. Always better to be the lowest of the high than the highest of the low, George’s father had told him once. And he’d done it better than anyone else on board.

“The captain goes down with the ship,” George tells him obstinately. He can’t help but puff out his chest a little as he says it. There is a certain heroism that comes with self-sacrifice. If George were a hunting dog with its paw caught in the trap, he would not gnaw off his leg to escape. He would sit there, brave and proud, until his owner found him; until they let him go; until they patted his matted chest and told him that he had been the very best.

Lewis sighs, but does it tenderly. “You’re not the captain.”

George’s eyes cut to him. They’ve gone red with the cold. “I’m the best they’ve got, anyways,” he says haughtily.

Lewis sighs again. It is less tender and more frustrated this time. “There’s no one left to rescue. This isn’t your job, George. You’re supposed to save yourself first.”

George looks darkly at Lewis’ makeshift raft. “Is that what you did?” He asks tauntingly.

“Yes,” Lewis answers him simply, “It is.”

George scoffs. “You should have seen if there were other people who needed help first.”

“I thought that’s what I was doing right now,” Lewis says. “Seeing if people need help.”

George turns his head away, fixing his eyes on the moon and widening them until the light spills like milk onto his upturned face. Twin pools of white in a chalky complexion. It’s like he’s dead already. ���I don’t need help.”

“That’s what the rest of them said,” Lewis replies with chagrin.

George’s head snaps back to him, the corpse no longer dead yet. “So I wasn’t your first choice? What if your raft had filled up already? Would you have let me drown?”

“I thought the captain went down with the ship,” Lewis snaps, then closes his eyes briefly, remembering patience, and replies a bit more forcefully than he’d planned, “You can argue about that with me once you’re off the ship. Come on now, we don’t have much time.”

He’s right. George can feel the cold water biting into the holes in his shoes. He hates it; the captain wouldn’t have gaps like broken teeth in his fine Oxfords, it would disrespect the uniform, the position. Yet the frigid soon-to-be ice pools around his toes, biting against the threadbare socks, slipping through all the places he’s had to darn the fading fabric when it tore again, again, again.

“It’s not proper to leave like this,” he says remarkably calmly. “It’s like quitting.”

Lewis practically reels backwards in his attempt to keep his cool. He manages to stave off laughter, but indignation comes quick on its heels, and that he cannot avoid. “Quitting,” he spits out. “The ship is sinking. It has already sunk. There’s nothing left, George. For either of us.”

George goes silent again. Moody. Was he always like this, or just now, faced with the reality of Lewis’ abandonment?

Lewis extends his hand one last time. “George, please. Save yourself.”

He has to go soon, or he’ll be pulled under too, dragged down by that awful current. Lewis can already feel it tugging impatiently at his makeshift raft. All things go, and will go down into those freezing depths if he does not start moving right now.

George is glancing away again, peering closely at the ship below him in the shadowy waves. “I think I see the captain in one of the windows. I need to get to him.”

Lewis laughs bitterly. Sadness drenches the sound. “I thought you were the captain, George. There can only be one.”

George doesn’t look back. He’s busy staring at a waving shade in a broken window far beneath the surface that might be the captain, or might be nothing at all. A trick of the light. They are all alone here. When he glances back up, Lewis is gone. He thinks he might hear the splash of an oar in the distance, or maybe that’s the water around his waist.

He shouts in anger, in rage. This betrayal will never be forgotten, and when George gets himself out, Lewis will be sorry he ever thought about leaving George like this. Weren’t they friends? George is going to swim away, far away. He’s strong and he’s fast and he will cut through the black water like a knife. 

He just has to go back for the captain first, but the captain is far below him. And getting closer. Closer than Lewis. Closer than the obsidian sea closing over his head.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy, @juphey, @faerieroyal

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[logansargey]

George x Lewis fics are so funny because it's always this beautiful man that looks like he was hand carved by the gods and has the most iconic outfits and serves cunt 24/7 x some British white boy with beautiful blue eyes who can't stop taking shirtless pics. I love it tho

[russilton]

Brake Balance on Ao3

Notes: Lewis/George, Explicit, Trans George Russell

Summary:

"Why don’t you come dance?” With me goes unspoken, and George is eyeing him with a familiar look, like he’s sure Lewis will brush him off again, but he still wants to try.

Maybe it’s the buzz of alcohol. Maybe it’s the shiny skin of a tanned collarbone showing through George’s three open shirt buttons. Maybe it’s just the adrenaline of the whole day in general, but for once, Lewis thinks that sounds like a pretty good idea.

Stop overthinking, just go with it.

Bono’s words echo pointedly around his mind. Fuck it

It's finally here, 25k of Trans George, Fuck boy Lewis, and gratuitous smut. There's plot, there's smut, there's angst, have fun!

[beabnormal24]

Hi there! :)

Ship that you find most sexy:👅?

I answered that in one of my latest posts and my choice was Charlos buuuuuut you know what? I have another answer.

Two, for all that matters.

First one, Honeychili, aka Carlos and Daniel.

I meaaaan, come on, they’re both so handsome and hot and I have a thing for big noses and facial hair and Daniel and Carlos? Huuff, my God, spectacular.

I just also love the fact that one is all hard muscles and big biceps and plump lips and luscious hair, while the other is all lanky and small waist and slim thighs and tattoos. In my imagination, Carlos picks Daniel up whenever he’s a bit of a brat and shuts him up just by holding him against his chest.

I just have to write about them, my my my.

For the second one, I’m deeply undecided between Lewierre and Britcedes.

Lewierre aka Lewis and Pierre. Lewis is hot, that’s it, nothing to add I mean- it’s pretty clear, right? Tattoos and chest and biceps and abs and abs and abs and abs-

Pierre, oh my God, I have a confession to make. My heart beats for Carlos Sainz, that much is pretty clear, but my first love? The one that made me stumble more into F1? Pierre Gasly.

I don’t get how many people don’t see how beautiful he is. Those lips and that jaw and that beard and those eyes? My God, Pierre’s eyes are one of the Wonders of this world, so beautiful.

Not to talk about his abs - ehehhehehe abs.

Anyway, Lewis and Pierre? Easily one of the sexiest pairs on the grid.

But also Britcedes, aka Lewis and George. The same previous reasons stand for Lewis, while for George I honestly do find him really sexy. I guess it’s the chiseled jaw, I like it a lot, and the big blue eyes and, more recently, the hair.

Oh my God George’s new hairstyle? Killed me and brought me back to life, incredible, exactly the one that suits him the most, not gel and no nothing.

If Max Verstappen stops styling his hair up to the ceiling, I’ll add him to the list as well.

[tooxmanyxships]

oof angst prompt ok......imagine max and daniel are pining for each other ala McLaren era but neither know the other likes them back and max out of frustration or something starts hooking up lewis in Fwb kinda way cause lewis gets him (brocedes style but also now george) and somehow shit gets leaked and it's all up in the news, so they start fake dating cause FWB/one night stands are so scandalous, in the meantime daniel is absolutely breaking down thinking how max is into guys but didn't pick him and George is now questioning shit cause he doesn't like the fact that max has lewis and Lewis didn't even tell him (denial of feelings maybe) . Lewis and max can't even break up too quickly cause they are in the public eye and have to be all lovey dovey (ish) and are slowly getting confused so now we have 4 sad people who have no clue how to fix this (bonus points if dan george appear closer after the whole leak cause they drown their sorrows together or something)

Damn I love this idea!

It's most likely gonna be multi chaptered, but that's more fun, right?

Consider this as a sneak peek/the first chapter

Will it have a happy end? I have no idea yet

Why did he have to leave him?

Okay, technically it was just Daniel switching teams, but, it didn't feel that way.

It felt like heartbreak.

Didn't Daniel have as much fun as he had while they were teammates?

Was it all his imagination of how close they were?

Was it really just him who felt like this about his teamma--- former teammate.

He'll have to get used to saying that. Even if he didn't want to.

It sucks. everything sucks.

He doesn't want to deal with these feelings, so he goes and drowns them at a bar in Monaco one night.

He's already pretty wasted when he sees him, at the bar, asking the bartender for a drink.

He makes his way over there to say hello.

"Lewis!" He slurs out the name a little. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"Max?" Lewis looks just as surprised as Max felt when he saw him. "I didn't know this was your type of bar."

It wasn't. Not until Daniel brought him here a few times. Then it somehow became his favorite one.

"What can I say... I'm full of surprises."

Lewis' lips curl up into a small grin and he slaps Max's shoulder amicably.

"You sure are." he thanks the bartender when he gets his drink, then turns back to Max. "You on your own?"

Max nods, "Yeah. What about you?"

"Same," Lewis took a sip from his drink, looking around. "It's pretty crowded tonight."

"That's fun, no?" Lewis can tell Max has already had a few drinks too many and honestly, he's getting there too. "Would be boring if it wasn't."

"Yeah," he thinks 'fuck it' and empties his glass in one go. "You wanna dance?"

It's a silly question, because he knows Max isn't exactly world's greatest dancer - neither is he - but he just needs to do something to get the pressure off. He's pretty sure Max feels the same way.

The grin on Max's face says enough. Lewis has just enough time to place his glass back onto the bar before he gets dragged off to the dancefloor.

They dance, laugh and drink some more. They get kicked out, along with some other customers, when the bar is going to close and they stumble outside.

"You wanna share a cab?"

Lewis thinks Max must be more drunk than he thought he was for asking this.

"Yeah, sure."

He knows he's far gone when he gives his answer.

The ride in the backseat of the cab is... Interesting.

Max gets a little bit touchy and Lewis doesn't really seem to mind.

Max gets really clingy when they're in the hotel lobby and Lewis has no choice but to pull Max into the elevator and help him up to his room.

He wants to leave and go to his own room straight away, but Max - who has even more strength than Lewis gave him credit for - grabs him and then he's crowding him in and kissing him and Lewis has nowhere to go.

He could push him away, but fuck--- he craves this. Whatever this is.

They end up as two naked bodies in tangled sheets, whispering words which are meant for someone else.

Max wishes the voice had an Australian accent. Lewis wishes the voice sounded more British.

But it is what it is. They did what they did.

And when Lewis sneaks out of the hotel later on, he doesn't feel particularly bad about it and neither does Max.

~~~~~~~**********~~~~~~~~~~

It's Pierre who texts him first. Just a: 'mate. Did you see this?' and a link to some picture on some gossip site.

Daniel clicks on it anyway, prepared to immediately close it again, but he stops when he sees the picture and the headline.

"Sir Lewis Hamilton caught sneaking out of the red bull drivers' hotel"

No.

This can't be what they're insinuating here.

There must be some perfectly fit other explanation for this.

But he makes the mistake of scrolling further - - -

There are more pictures. Pictures of Lewis and Max at a bar. - their bar -.

Pictures of Max and Lewis getting out of said bar and into a cab.

Sharing a cab.

Max and Lewis getting out at the red bull hotel - - -

Daniel closes the article and slams his phone down.

He knows how Max gets when he's drunk.

It makes his stomach turn.

It looks like things went down exactly as insinuated.

Why Lewis?

Why not him?

Did their time together as teammates really mean that little to the Dutch boy?

Whatever reason Max had, it really, really hurt Daniel a lot.

But he was gonna act like nothing happened.

Just be like he always was with Max.

He wondered how George felt about this.

~~~~~~*******~~~~~~~

Interesting....

That's the first thing that crossed George's mind when he came across the pictures of Lewis and Max partying together.

His eyes widening a little at the pictures at the hotel.

Why people waited so long to see someone come back out of a hotel, he really didn't understand.

But yeah, it was interesting to see. Especially because it was those two.

Maybe nothing really happened.

- as if -

He was definitely gonna investigate.

And while investigating, he'd be distracted from all other disturbing things he might or might not be feeling for his teammate

It was a win win situation.

Sort of.

If Lewis was happy, then he was happy too.

Or that's what he likes to make himself belief.

[nearmike]

Royalty A/B/O AU - A guide

1- Characters

King Lewis Hamilton I

Status: First-born son of King Anthony Hamilton, King of Stevenage, first of his name, conqueror of the Kingdom of London and Protector of the English Channel

Relationships: Married and mated to Prince George of Kyng’s Lynn

Designation: Alpha

Smell: Dark chocolate and citrus fruits

Prince George Russell

Status: Third son of King Steve Russell, Prince of Kyng’s Lynn by birth, Prince of Stevenage through marriage

Relationships: Married and mated to King Lewis I of Stevenage, loving friendship and platonic relationship with Lord Charles

Designation: Omega

Smell: Honey and lavender flowers

Lord Charles Leclerc

Status: Second son of Lord Leclerc of Monaco, attendant of Prince George

Relationships: Dating Royal Guard Max the Lion, loving friendship and platonic relationship with Prince George

Designation: Omega

Smell: Caramel

Max Verstappen, the Lion

Status: First-born son of Lord Verstappen of Holland, lost the title of Lord by disinheritance, Royal Guard of Prince George, first knight of the Crown of Stevenage

Relationships: Dating Lord Charles

Designation: Alpha

Smell: Mint

Peter Bonnington, Bono

Status: Doctor of the Crown of Stevenage

Relationships: unknown

Designation: Beta

Smell: //

Lord Daniel Ricciardo

Status: Lord of Perth

Relationships: Present unknown, past betrothal to Lord Lando

Designation: Alpha

Smell: unknown

Lord Alex Albon

Status: First knight of the Crown of Kyng’s Lynn, ex Royal Guard of Prince George

Relationships: Married and Mated to Lady Lily, past crush on Prince George

Designation: Alpha

Smell: unknown

Lord Lando Norris

Status: Lord of Bristol by birth, Lord of Melbourne through marriage

Relationships: Married and mated to Lord Oscar (3 children), past out of marriage relationship with Lord Carlos (1 child), past betrothal to Lord Daniel

Designation: Omega

Smell: unknown

Lord Oscar Piastri

Status: Lord of Melbourne

Relationships: Married and mated to Lord Lando (3 children + 1 adopted child)

Designation: Alpha

Smell: unknown

2 - Fics

Part 1 - Morning Cuddles, T, 1017 words

Pairings: George/Charles, Lewis/George (mentioned), Max/Charles (mentioned)

Part 2 - Say my name, I want the neighbors to hear it, E, 1739 words

Pairings: Lewis/George, Max/Charles (mentioned)

Part 3 - Troverò due soli e un'altra città, E, 6301 words

Pairings: Lewis/George, George/Charles, Max/Charles (mentioned)

Part 4 - Sometimes I fuck you in my head, M, 3488 words

Pairings: Max/Charles, Lewis/George, George/Charles (mentioned), Oscar/Lando (mentioned)

Part 5 - Lying close to you, feeling your heart beating, T, 2762 words

Pairings: Lewis/George, George/Charles (mentioned)

Part 6 - You pull me in and touch my neck, and now I'm dying, E, 2989 words

Pairings: Lewis/George, George/Charles (mentioned), Max/Charles (mentioned)

Part 7 - Sweet creature, T, 1428 words

Pairings: Lewis/George