#rpf warning

[aplethoras]

FIC: "pin me to your wall" FANDOM: GMMTV RPF RELATIONSHIP: First/Khaotung RATING: Explicit WORDCOUNT: 15.6K SUMMARY:

"It’s a shock to see this side of Tay, because he’s known Tay for so long and Tay hasn’t really ever shown interest in anyone in front of First, which is probably why his heart is slamming against his ribcage and his palms are so sweaty. Of course he’s reacting like this. It’s only natural.

First is fine.

He’s totally fine."

--

Or Tay asks First for his opinion on his latest foray into more--intimate genres of photography, and First bites off a little more than he can chew when Tay's choice of model is Khaotung. Link on AO3

#firstkhaotung #first kanaphan #khaotung thanawat #fic #gmmtv exchange #gmmtv #rpf warning #anyway i forgot to post this here #hi #having multiple social media accounts is impossible xoxo #anyway i either wrote this or had the world's longest fever dream #although to be fair to myself #isn't that kind of what writing is? #my fic

[smimon]

Giant K series #9: Bojan joins the party!

First of all, big thanks to @j-restlessgeek for being the best test audience / beta reader 💛💛💛 without your support I would have dropped this 15 times at least 🙏😭 Thank you so, so much!!!

And now, enjoy ✨ the post ✨ 🥳

(You know, I haven't even realized how much I missed Bojan in this series before I started working on this. So many ideas...)

What follows is basically a mismatched collection of unrelated ideas. Sit comfortably, this is going to be a long post 👀

That damn smile...

Don't worry, Käärijä won't fall overboard, Bojan is holding him 😊

It's that cliche picture of a couple lying in a meadow except they are in Finland so they went to the forest instead

Unrestrained summer fun

Nice catch

Bedtime 🏎

Cowlick 🐄

epic fail

Who needs shoulder angel/devil when you have Bojan

Kabe-don!

Pötsi as aid

Puppy love

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Aaand post.

#brothers maybe something more #giant k series #käärijä #bojan cvjetićanin #fanart #bojere #guest starring: #frank #häärijä #dalttonit #hojan #rpf #art by op #my art #eyestrain warning #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[dapg-otmebytheballs]

I come bearing Gif(t)s (and Fic!)

For @japhan2023 for the Phandom Gift Exchange 2023!! HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

(Thank you @husbants and @ttlmt for organising this!)

These gifs are related to the fic (first fic I've ever written woo):

Title: Knight of Wands

Rating: Teens and Up (light swearing)

Summary: Dan does not believe in fate and destiny and fortune-telling. Dan finds the idea of fortune-telling at the same time exciting and terrifying. He definitely doesn’t believe in it though. But he’s starting to have doubts.

OR

Dan watches Phil do tarot readings and learns something about fate.

Read it on ao3

#phandom gift exchange #phandom gift exchange 2023 #dnp #dan and phil #dnpgames #dan and phil games #dan howell #phil lester #dnp gifs #dpgdaily #fic #dnp fic #dnp rpf #flash warning

[red-flagging]

💛 seb/lewis :-)

(kiss fic prompts!)

a little epilogue to rabbits are chasing :)

Lewis's flight lands at 8:02PM, which means that by 7:31PM, Seb is parked outside the airport arrivals door, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel and scanning the sky for approaching planes.

It's quite silly, getting here so early, but it's not as if there's much left to do at home. There's roast vegetables waiting in the oven, the cauliflower steaks that he started marinating earlier this morning chilling in the fridge. Mina and Ellie are safely ensconced in their duck coop with the heater turned on for the night. The sheets on the guest bed are freshly washed.

The car parked behind him starts up. Its headlights illuminate Seb's cabin. For a moment, he catches a glimpse of himself, harried and too-bright, in the rearview mirror. He scrubs his hands down his face. Christ. Get it together, Sebastian. He is a full 39 years old. Far too old to be getting the same jitters that he did the first time he invited a girl over at age 17, agonizing about what album to have playing when they came back to his room. Lewis is far too old for Seb to be doing all this. Lewis might not even be gay.

His phone buzzes. Seb nearly jumps out of his seat.

Lewis

just landed

getting my luggage now

hows it so freaking cold here

The inside of the car is already fogging up. When he'd asked Lewis to send dates he could come visit and Lewis had said just so you know the next few months are kind of crazy for me, Seb had expected late fall, maybe the holidays. Not the middle of slush season, when all the roads up the mountain have a 50/50 chance of being so muddy that they're undriveable.

Sebastian

I'm outside, in the blue Infiniti :)

He glances back up at himself in the mirror. The scab from where a wood chip caught the corner of his eyebrow while he was sanding the new planter box is almost healed over. His hair looks as good as it's ever going to. If Lewis asks whether he's been using conditioner, he's fucked.

It shouldn't feel like this. Seb beat Lewis to Senna's record, and Lewis still laughed at all his jokes the next season. Lewis watched Seb DNF twice in five races and still said in the media pen that he was waiting for the day Seb would be back up on the podium with him. When they inevitably auction off Lewis's Le Mans racesuit, it'll have to be with Seb's snot all over the front of it, because Lewis let Seb sob all over him and then laughed as he wiped sweat off of Seb's cheek with the sleeve. After all that – the fact that he's about to be in Seb's house for the next week shouldn't make Seb feel like he's standing in front of Lewis naked, without even the promise of a fast car or a good competition to distract Lewis from looking right at him.

His phone buzzes again.

Lewis

outside i think

Seb peers through the windscreen. Lewis – or rather, the blurry figure lugging a giant suitcase behind him that he assumes is Lewis – waves at him from the sidewalk. Seb flashes his lights at him twice.

The back door opens and Lewis's head, along with a burst of cold night air, pops in. "Hey," he says, a little breathlessly. "I don't think this is going to fit in the back."

It does, eventually, but not without a fight that involves Seb having to climb into the trunk alongside Lewis's suitcase and physically wrestle it into place while Lewis shoves from behind. They're both out of breath by the time they finally climb back in the front and slam the doors shut.

"You know, there are beds at the farm," Seb points out. "You didn't have to pack your own."

Lewis shakes his head, tugging off his gloves. His coat collar is turned up around his neck. He's wearing an an ear warmer headband, held in place by two butterfly pins. Every other bit of uncovered skin is pink, even with the heat in the car up at full blast. Lewis shoves his fingers in front of the vents and sighs with relief, closing his eyes. "Ugh, thank God," he says. He sounds exhausted. "Listen, you're lucky I fit everything into one." It sounds far less like a joke than Seb would hope. The fact that the fondness in Seb's chest still manages to outweigh the exasperation is probably a sign that Seb's beyond salvation.

"Next time I'll bring a trailer so you can fit your bathtub and toilet, too," he says, reaching for the keys. The engine purrs to life as he flicks the lights back on, then leans forward to scrub the worst of the fog off the windscreen. The thermometer on the dash says it's still 3 degrees outside. They might still be able to make it back before the slush freezes over. "Okay," he says, sitting back down and twisting around to reach for his seatbelt. "Ready to go?"

Lewis doesn't say anything. When Seb looks over, he's staring out the front window, playing with one of his rings.

"Lewis?" Seb asks.

Lewis's head jerks around. "Hm?" he says. "Oh. Yeah." He doesn't move to put on his seatbelt.

Seb frowns. Kills the engine so he can properly turn in his seat. "Lewis," he says. "Is everything –"

Lewis leans across the console and kisses him.

It's barely half a second. Seb still hasn't moved by the time Lewis sits back down on his side of the car.

"Uh," Lewis says, after a second. He clears his throat. "Sorry. I just – Shit. Sorry. The whole way over, all I could think about was – I had to get it over with before I chickened out."

He's fiddling with his rings again, but his eyes stay fixed on Seb's. His jaw is set. He still looks half-ready to bolt through the door behind him, out into the night.

"Well, you don't have to make it sound like taking your medicine, Christ," Seb says hoarsely, and drags Lewis back across the console to kiss him properly.

Lewis's lips are still cold. When Seb opens his mouth, Lewis sighs, pressing in closer with a soft sound that makes Seb want to go twenty years back in time and kick himself for not figuring out how to make Lewis make that noise sooner. His hands settle on Seb's wrists, holding him in place. Seb slides his own hands up, cradling the back of Lewis's head, to return the favor.

When he finally pulls away just far enough to catch his breath, Lewis follows him, close enough that their noses bump. His eyes are wide. This close up, Seb can see the dark circles under them more clearly.

He closes his eyes. Lewis is still there when he opens them.

"How long have you been awake?" he asks.

Lewis blinks. "What," he says. "Are you talking about."

"Sleep deprivation," Seb says. His heart is pounding hard enough that he feels it in his throat. "People start to get delirious when they're tired enough –"

"I was awake for 24 hours and I didn't kiss you at the end," Lewis interrupts, his eyes sharp and bright. "I'm not making the same mistake twice."

Seb opens his mouth and nothing comes out. He tries again. Still nothing.

"Fuck," he says, closing his eyes. "Okay. Okay." He drags himself back upright and reaches for the keys. "We can – tomorrow. But we should – you need to shower. And sleep." Lewis's hand settles on his leg. Seb rests his own on top of it; after a second, he squeezes Lewis's fingers gently. Lewis flips his hand over and laces their fingers together.

"Yeah," Lewis says. His thumb traces over Seb's knuckles. "That – tomorrow sounds good."

The slush crackles under the tires when Seb starts to move. Ahead of them, the headlights carve a path through the darkness. Lewis's hand is a solid, steady weight against his leg. "Okay," Seb says, to himself, to both of them, to no one. Lewis hums softly from his side of the car. He squeezes Seb's knee gently.

Seb closes his eyes for a second. "Okay," he says quietly. "Yeah. Let's go home."

#my fic #collarboen #rpf #sorry to possibly?? retcon the fade to black kiss at the end of rabbits are chasing and be like PSYCH it took 9 months after that...but in #my heart this has always* been the truth #*i came up with it ten minutes into brainstorming this prompt but now i'm attached to it and have accepted it into my heart and home #the post-retirement post-gay awakening post-journey of self acceptance slow burn slash anxiety spiral #that happened over the 9 month interlude on lewis's end is left as a thought experiment for the reader :) #thank u for giving me an excuse to write this autumn :) #i am slowly making my way through the rest of these lol ty to everyone who has sent them in they've been so fun!! #you are welcome to send in more but just be warned that the next batch will probably take. much longer lol. but i will keep doing my best 🫡

[thinkingaboutfilm11]

New Fic dropped!!!!!

'And I Know You Hate That'

Word Count: 7.5K

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Ayrton Senna X Alain Prost

Summary: Alain wakes up hungover, ill and handcuffed to Ayrton Senna.

Not the best way to start his morning.

Or is it?

Link: Here

YEAH SUPRISE GUYS IVE BEEN COOKING THIS THE PAST WEEK. it is pure smut, sprinkled with a tiny bit of lore, and god complexes. I wrote the majority of this after re-watching Oppenhimer, so I apologise if its a bit dramatic....

Anyway this is 7K of smut so uhhh enjoy and dont look me in the eye

#prosenna #prosenna fanfiction #wahoooo #slay #ayrton senna #alain prost #forumula one RPF #F1RPF #its nasty #i will warn you #also its only for registered AO3 users #dont nobody be stealing it or selling it to AI #the amount of stalking on alains kids and wife i did for this is disgusting #my apologies to the prost family

[scrollonso]

let me cook...

#spoiler warning #jk #well #give me like 8 more chapters #then it wont be a spoiler #nando birthday chapter #coming in 4 months #🔥🔥🔥 #f1 #formula 1 #lance stroll #fernando alonso #strollonso #ls18 #fa14 #internalized homophobia #au #first kiss au #rpf #1418

[antimonyandthyme]

1k, prosenna

warnings: references to character death, grief/mourning

There were hands smoothing down the wrinkles in the sheets by his legs.

“Go away,” he said. “You are dead.”

Ayrton rolled his eyes. “Of course,” he said, and went back to adjusting the blanket.

Ludicrous. Ghost Ayrton was trying to tuck him in. Alain was losing his mind.

“So even in death, you seek to drive me mad.”

Ayrton pulled back, like that stung. Actually stung, physically. Which made no sense. Alain was talking to a shade his mind had cobbled up, in rejection of the reality. Some people had no business lying still. So, his imagination made them move.

“I’m trying to make you comfortable.”

“I am quite comfortable, thank you.”

“Then why can’t you sleep?” Ayrton said softly.

Alain stared down at his hands, tangled in the sheets by his waist. He had lost faith in the veins running along his body to carry blood. If he looked in the mirror, he knew what he’d find. Haunted eyes, and a tiredness that stuck to flesh like wet film. Why couldn’t he sleep?

“Because you left,” Alain said. “Without so much as a goodbye.”

Ayrton’s face seemed whiter than before, if that were even possible. Even now, when nothing between them mattered any more—even now, they hurt each other.

“I am trying,” Ayrton said, “to right this wrong, can you understand that?”

“Then let me sleep,” Alain said.

It was close to eleven when Alain awoke. His alarm had been switched off. He did not remember doing that. There was a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. Ayrton had not left.

“Now, to the shops,” Ayrton announced, sounding so much like it was the tallest order of the day. “Get dressed, Alain.”

“No,” Alain said. He had not left the house in—weeks. Since Imola.

Ayrton pursed his lips and squinted. It was all so familiar. He used to make that expression right before they argued. Alain could close his eyes and conjure it up, every frown line etched in its precise position. He supposed he was getting exceedingly good at recreating Ayrton from memory.

“Get dressed,” Ayrton said menacingly, “or I will dress you.”

Alain barked out a laugh. It grated against his ears like metal on metal, a crash on the track. He hadn’t heard himself in what seemed like eons. Fine, fine. He could humour Ayrton, if only because he had made him laugh.

Ayrton watched with satisfaction as Alain drew clean clothes on. It didn’t seem strange that Ayrton watched him while he changed, with something in his eyes Alain couldn’t quite place. Or rather, something Alain couldn’t bear to place, now that the something was no longer within reach.

They went to the market.

“Why can't they see you?”

Ayrton scoffed. “Why would I choose to appear to them?”

Alain shook his head. “Why would you choose to appear to me?”

Ayrton looked at him as if Alain were deliberately being obtuse. Which was just typical. And comforting enough for the crack in his heart to tear open and bleed freely.

The shopkeepers must certainly think him mad. He was holding up produce for Ayrton to inspect. He was holding them up to thin air.

“Pah,” Ayrton said. “You call those oranges?”

Alain inspected the offending fruit. “What would you call them?”

“Those are yellows at best. This is what you’ve been eating? No wonder you’ve grown so thin.”

The weather was crisp, and Alain’s lips cracked when he smiled. He poked his tongue out to get at the blood, and let himself be bullied into purchasing grapefruit instead.

There was a light drizzle when they were finally done. Alain kept his walking pace while Ayrton seethed behind him. By the grace of the universe, Alain had been spared an apparition that could touch. If Alain could imagine the feel of Ayrton against him, then. Well. He wouldn’t survive this.

“Walk faster,” Ayrton demanded. Every time he tried to push at Alain, his hands went clean through. “You are getting soaked.”

“I don’t mind,” Alain said. The chill of the air was refreshing, actually.

“I do,” Ayrton said. “Come on, your house is just around the corner.”

But Alain would not listen. He stood under the clouds as the sky opened up and mourned for Senna.

“Come in from the rain,” Ayrton pleaded with him.

Alain stayed, like a madman who would not be swayed. The immovable object to Ayrton’s now very stoppable force. The paper bag holding his groceries tore, and the grapefruit thudded to the ground, coming to rest in puddles. He was allowed to relish in the anguish he was inflicting upon Ayrton. In return for the sorrow that now bound his every waking moment.

“What would you have me do?” Ayrton was shouting now. The rain adhered to his cheeks like tears. “For you to come inside, Alain, what would you have me do?”

“Come back,” Alain said to the storm.

The rain kept falling. Alain did not know for how long. Could have been seconds. Or years. Alain was looking his grief right in the face. He was dimly aware that he was shivering wildly, that his teeth were chattering.

“I will never forgive you,” Ayrton said, his final attempt at moving Alain. “If you allowed this to break you, I will never forgive you. You will never see peace, Alain, for I will never leave you.”

“What if,” he said, sounding for all the world like a child, lost and pathetic, “I wanted that?”

“You are a fool,” Ayrton said harshly. His hands hovered a mere millimeter above Alain’s cheeks. He looked so much like he wanted to stroke Alain. It looked like pain, that he couldn’t. “Come in from the rain, Prost, and live.”

Alain looked up. The sky was clearing. The earth continued to spin, as she always did. Alain crouched down, and picked up his fallen fruit. He took his time. Dragged it out. Allowed himself the taste of longing. When he turned to go home, Ayrton was no longer there.

#athy texts #fanfic #rpf #prosenna #please heed the warnings

[natashasbitxh]

lol Shayne in the recent lego Smosh Games vid saying "if your date orders chicken tenders, it's an immediate second date" when that is pretty much what Chanse's tweet from the drunk painting stream said?? they're lichurly made for each other

no literally...chicken tender date when...?

TW SMALL FLASH

THIS IS JUST A JOKE🫶⚠️⚠️

#flash warning #nat talks #smoshblr #shaynse #shipping #rpf #anon #smosh ships

[smallishbeansshipbracket]

REMINDER GUYS

this is a warning. i have received multiple asks talking about these ships in a rpf sense. this is not allowed, and all rpf asks will be deleted. please do not talk about or mention rpf in the tags, or in asks because it makes me very uncomfortable.

thank you

-mod 🫛💥

#warning #smallishbeansshipbracket #joel smallishbeans #smallishbeans #not a poll #fuck rpf

[theommin]

good timezone its midnight here and i'm lying awake thinking about pacific rim au landoscar so um throws this snippet at you (now that ive written this little thing i Will have to expand it ik. Sigh)

-

Lando reaches out with his good arm, slowly, still treating him a bit like a spooked cat, and Oscar can't find it in him to feel anything except safe.

He doesn't take his hand, just lays his on top of Oscar’s. Touching him is usually electric, like touching a live wire, but right now it’s just gentle. Comforting. Lando’s hand is warm and soft, and large enough to wholly cover Oscar’s, and the feeling is grounding. Reminds him that Lando is alive, he’s breathing, there’s blood in his veins.

It’s kind, really kind, and if Oscar was braver he’d lean forward and wrap Lando into his arms and probably start to sob again into his shoulder. He isn’t. He doesn’t.

“This is stupid,” he says, when he doesn’t feel dangerously close to hyperventilating anymore, his voice still wobbly, “you’re the one who almost died. Why am I more fucked up about it than you are?”

Lando shrugs and tightens his grip slightly in reassurance.

“Not stupid. You felt my arm break, mate, that can’t have been fun. Also, I’m probably pretty fucked up about it. We’ll see what happens when I try to get back in a Jaeger.”

Oscar winces, makes an ooh-boy face to try to pull a laugh out of him. It almost works, Lando’s face doing something twisty that means he’s trying not to smile because smiling feels inappropriate. Oscar doesn't say please laugh, because that’s probably too weird. Instead, he detangles his hands from Lando’s and unfurls from the seating position that is getting very uncomfortable.

#formula 1 #rpf #f1 rpf #theres the rpf warning lol #landoscar #twinklaren #mctwinks #pacific rim au #lando norris x oscar piastri #drabble #going so crazy insane pls enjoy #hurt/comfort #i think it counts yeah #snippet

[dianessunflower]

When I contemplate the physical spaces that articulate the letters 'I love you' in a written text, I may be led to think about other spaces, for example the space that lies between 'you' in the text and you in my life.

—Anne Carson

#how does a simple hug split my heart in two and sew it back together again #tl got me in the feels #can you tell i hate goodbyes #ig i have a thing for leading ladies and their men wrapping their shows #call me sadistic or something #go find the other show on my tumblr with the exact same gif setup #yes it's the show with the mustache dude as well #hannah waddingham #rebecca welton #jason sudeikis #ted lasso #gif #*mine #this is not an rpf post and if you come here for that i will block #you've been warned #ted lasso apple tv #ted lasso tv

[thelioncourts]

🤐

was down horrendously bad the other night after News broke and was writing fucking rpf in my notes app at 1am, so it's really downhill from here, goodbye everyone

#if you don't do rpf just don't look this is your warning about. everything.

[writethelifeyouwant]

Shadows | Masterlist

UPDATE:

Hi everyone! Thank you so much to all who had an interest in this fic, I really appreciate your support! This story idea originally came from the fantastic brain of another writer and I was honoured to be asked to write the idea for them. However as I'm sure you've all noticed I've had to take a step back from writing lately due to my health and work commitments, so I haven't been able to spend as much time and energy on this story as I'd originally hoped.

SO, I'm super excited to say that the original brainstormer - @synmorite - will be taking this story back over and taking it in a new creative direction! There will likely be some similarities in the set up but she'll be taking a different spin on what I and planned and I can't wait to read it!

Make sure you all head on over to her account and give her a follow so you can keep reading some excellent dark smutty Jensen fic 😈 and show Syn all the love!! 💜

[effervescentdragon]

piarles + nr 8 for the kiss prompts ("in secrecy") ❤

8) ...in secrecy.

Pierre never quite knew not to be awkward with expressing genuine affection.

Oh, he learned how to fake it. He had to, for multiple reasons, and he learned it so well that some days it felt like it was real. The fact remained that he was visibly clumsy with it, which only compounded the issue and made him more awkward, and the viciousness of that circle weighed on him as a constant his whole life. Awkward hugs to his brothers, awkward mumblings of words of love to his girlfriends, awkward kisses to his maman and papa's cheeks and foreheads... it was all too sharp, too practiced, too wooden to seem natural.

Pierre despised how much it affected him. He was supposed to be better. Better than others, better than his brothers, better than his rivals, better than everyone. Just... better. He was supposed to be better, and no matter what he did, he always felt like he was failing.

-

"This is stupid, Pear, this is so stupid, we'll get into so much trouble, oh my god, we're such idiots," Charles tries to protest, but his indignance is smothered under the barrage of giggles he can't contain.

Pierre turns to look at him, the grass underneath his cheek tickling his skin. Charles laughs so sweetly when he allows himself to relax, and that has always been one of Pierre's favourite sounds in the world. Now it's the only sound Pierre can hear, louder than the spring breeze.

"It's okay, calamar, don't worry," he tries to reassure Charles. "I got the weed from a friend, and nobody will know. It's just us."

Charles sighs heavily, dramatically, and it makes Pierre laugh. He rolls on his side so he can lean over Charles, half-pinning him to the ground with his own body.

"You're heavy, Pear," Charles mumbles, but his smile is wide, and his pupils are wider, and Pierre loves him so much, his heart hurts with it.

When he leans down, he doesn't think about his arm cramping or the awkward position. When his lips touch the edge of Charles', their noses don't bump. When he moves his lips to Charles' dimple, he doesn't dislodge Charles' glasses. When Charles reaches for him and puts his palm on Pierre's cheek, the universe in his eyes, Pierre doesn't think before he says "I love you, you know."

He doesn't have time to berate himself, or to explain, or to lie, because Charles giggles and says "I know. You, too," and then his fingers are tugging on Pierre's hair and reaching for Pierre's ribs, because Charles is the only one who knows how ticklish Pierre is and he is a little shit, and then Pierre is shrieking and cursing and Charles is rolling them over and the world spins and Pierre is happy, and in love with Charles and with life, and that's more than enough.

#idk if i like this but oh well #kiss prompts #piarles #f1 rpf #effervescentdragonwrites #my writing #cw weed i guess? idk ppl want warnings for everything

[blacktofade]

Fic: Lucky in Vegas

GeminiTay/Skizzleman/impulseSV, NC-17, ~4k

What happens at TwitchCon in Vegas, still stays at TwitchCon in Vegas.

--

Gem's riding a steady buzz from after-dinner drinks when she follows Skizz into the hotel’s elevator. She keeps a respectable distance, leaning against the wall as Skizz nudges at the button for the ninth floor with the knuckle of his middle finger.

“Where’s everyone else at?” he asks, glancing around, gaze landing on Gem as though not a coincidence.

“Seventh,” she says, needing to clear her throat as her voice breaks. They both know she isn’t going to go there, but he still presses the button for it and then looks over at Cub.

“Fourth,” Cub says, glancing back down at his phone to continue scrolling, thankfully distracted when Skizz shoots Gem a wink.

Gem’s body is already warm from alcohol, but it burns even brighter then, and she finds herself wetting her mouth, making Skizz’s eyes darken.

“Thanks for a great night,” Cub tells them, oblivious, when he steps out a moment later. “See you guys tomorrow.”

Gem briefly looks over to offer him a wave and a smile, but as the doors close, she can’t help but feel trapped.

[Read more]

#i am back to be very unwell #dont worry about it #thing wot i wrote #fic #hermitshipping #all i do these days is rpf but just in case anyone needs the warning...this is rpf lmfao

[celientjeee]

Sparks Fly (Whenever You Smile) (Alex/George, 3,5k, 1/2)

‘Alex,’ Stella said softly, apparently noticing his changing mood. ‘That gorgeous man you were staring at earlier?’

Alex narrowed her eyes at her, but she smiled sweetly at him and patted his arm.

‘That was Prince George.’

Prince George? What the hell was she talking about? Wait…

OR: Prince George wants to adopt a dog and Alex will not just hand it over to him.

- READ HERE! This fic is my birthday gift to the lovely @epylonia You my darling manage to brighten up every day, know just what to say when I'm down and you're basically me in a different body. Big thank you to Tumblr for bringing you on my path, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!! I hope you enjoy this Galex fic!!

#SAY HELLO TO ANOTHER GALEX FIC!!! #This one is for my beloved Ella's birthday <3 #Be warned: Prince George and Animal Shelter Owner Alex will STEAL YOUR HEART #HAPPY BIRTHDAY ELLA #galex fic #galex #f1 rpf #aa23 #gr63 #celinewrites