#ship kiss prompts

[blooming-violets]

Dancing on my Own Peter/Reader …out of lust.(44).Because this fic lives in my heart.. And because I’m a fucking pathetic egoist, and I want them to have that moment, even if only once.

[link to original ship prompt]

[link to Dancing On My Own]

A/N: This takes place literally right after the events of the original story but could also be read as it's own blurb with Peter x Reader.

Therapy, apologies, and abstinence. 

Those were her three rules. 

They had made it home early that morning. Each of them were exhausted in their own right. It had been a long time since Peter allowed himself to open up like that. He knew what he had done was wrong. He knew he wasn’t right. But, for the first time in forever, he felt hope. He had forgotten what hope felt like. 

And happiness. 

Not the kind of happiness that feels like the sun was shooting straight out of your body but a more subtle, dull glimmer of happy. Like burning embers still keeping the coals warm after the fire has died out. It was the start of something new. 

She had given him a new lease on a life he thought had died along with Gwen. 

Therapy, apologies, abstinence. 

He could do those three things. He would do anything if it would keep her around. 

She had disappeared into her bedroom once they arrived back home to change into something more comfortable. While she was gone, Peter opened his laptop and began to search for therapists specializing in PTSD related trauma. He was scrolling through the faces of each person who could potentially help him when he heard her door creak open. 

His eyes flicked up to meet with hers. 

She had washed off her makeup, her face bare, and brushed out her hair. She wore star print pajama pants and an oversized black tee. 

And she looked more beautiful than ever. 

A smile softened his face as he stared at her. 

There was a look in her eyes that he instantly recognized. He had seen it in other women before but never in her. 

A hunger. A wild abandon. A need. 

Peter shoved his laptop to the side and stood up just in time to catch her as she threw herself into his arms. 

“Oof,” he breathed out when she collided into him with a force that almost knocked him back onto the couch. 

Time seemed to standstill as she pressed her face against his chest. He heard her breathe in his scent with her face buried against his shirt. Strong arms wrapped tightly around her waist, crushing her breasts against him, and drawing her hips to press against his. He tangled a strand of her hair around his finger, running them around her ear to gently cup her head in his palm. 

She listened to his frantic heart beat pounding away in his chest. 

“I love you, Peter.” She breathed out, softly and quietly. “I’ve loved you since I was six years old.” 

Tears burned in his eyes, “I know. Maybe I always knew. Maybe I didn’t. But you were always there. Waiting for me to pull my head out of my ass.” His hand slid down and cupped her bottom, pushing her harder against his evident desire for her growing in his pants, and she knew he loved her, too. 

A bittersweet happiness shone between them. Sadness melded with need. Neither of them knew how to feel. They didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It had been such a long night. They really should get some sleep before they did anything rash. He could feel his defenses weakening the longer she held onto him. 

She snaked her arms around his neck and gently pressed her mouth to his. She moved her lips tenderly over his, testing the waters of their new development with a hesitant kiss.  

Peter stayed still to allow her to take the lead. Abstinence. That was one of her rules. Though she didn’t specify if that included her. All she had said was that she didn’t want to date him, not yet, and that she didn’t want to listen to him have sex with anyone else…she never said anything about the two of them…

He wasn’t going to push it. It was her world and he was just living in it. 

If she wanted to stand here and kiss him, he would happily allow her to do just that. 

“Peter?” She murmured against his mouth.

“Yeah?” He whispered.

He felt her smiling against his lips. 

“I want you to kiss me back. Stop acting like a statue. It’s okay. Kiss me.” 

Kiss her. 

That’s all he ever wanted to do. He would kiss until the end of time. 

His lips parted, melting the sea of ice, and then he was kissing her back. Forcefully and with demand, wanting to claim her as his own with his mouth. Their tongues wrestled in wet, warm, electric tangles. His growing passion washed over him in cool waves of bliss. 

He could feel her melting beneath his desperate onslaught. She shivered in his arms which only made him hold onto her tighter. Her hips bucked against him and he slipped his thigh between her legs to give her some kind of friction. 

The most delicious sounding moan fell from her lips as he attacked her with hungry kisses. She ground against his thigh and grabbed fistfuls of his hair. Peter felt the dizziness from lack of oxygen as she sucked the air straight out of his lungs. 

Begrudgingly he had to pull away, forcing himself to get a grip of his body before he completely lost control. 

“I-” he panted out. “I think we should stop. This is too…too fast…you wanted to take it slow, remember? This is not slow. This is the opposite of that.”

She groaned and shook her head, “Fuck that. I need you, Peter. Right now. We can take it slow tomorrow. If I don’t have you today, I might die.”

He let out a shuddered, shaky laugh as she grabbed his hand and led him straight to her bedroom. 

A/N: These two are so dysfunctional and fucked up and I love them for it. Let them be a trainwreck with each other! Meanwhile, Gabe is just chillin' in the hospital like "I am never dating anyone ever again wtf."

[urfriendlywriter]

How to write smut ?

(@urfriendlywriter | req by @rbsstuff @yourlocalmerchgirl anyone under the appropriate age, please proceed with caution :') hope this helps guys! )

writing smut depends on each person's writing style but i think there's something so gut-wrenchingly beautiful about smut when it's not very graphic and vivid. like., would this turn on a reader more?

"he kissed her, pulling her body closer to him."

or this?

"His lips felt so familiar it hurt her heart. His breathing had become more strained; his muscles tensed. She let herself sink into his embrace as his hands flattened against her spine. He drew her closer."

(Before proceeding further, these are all "in my opinion" what I think would make it better. Apply parts of the advice you like and neglect the aspects you do not agree with it. Once again I'm not saying you have to follow a certain type of style to write smut! Creative freedom exists for a reason!)

One may like either the top or the bottom one better, but it totally depends on your writing to make it work. Neither is bad, but the second example is more flattering, talking literally. (Here is me an year after writing this post, i think, either is amazing, depending on the context. the type of book you're writing, your writing style and preferences!)

express one's sensory feelings, and the readers will automatically know what's happening.

writing, "her walls clenched against him, her breath hitching with his every thrust" is better than writing, "she was about to cum".

(edit: once again, hi, it's me. Either is amazing depending on ur writing style. Everything at the end is about taste.)

here are some vocabulary you can introduce in your writing:

whimpered, whispered, breathed lightly, stuttered, groaned, grunted, yearned, whined, ached, clenched, coaxed, cried out, heaved, hissed

shivering, shuddering, curling up against one's body, squirming, squirting, touching, teasing, taunting, guiding, kneeling, begging, pining, pinching, grinding,

swallowing, panting, sucking in a sharp breath, thrusting, moving gently, gripped, biting, quivering,

nibbling, tugging, pressing, licking, flicking, sucking, panting, gritting, exhaling in short breaths,

wet kisses, brushing soft kisses across their body (yk where), licking, sucking, teasing, tracing, tickling, bucking hips, forcing one on their knees

holding hips, guiding the one on top, moving aimlessly, mindlessly, sounds they make turn insanely beautiful, sinful to listen to

some adverbs to use: desperately, hurriedly, knowingly, teasingly, tauntingly, aimlessly, shamelessly, breathlessly, passionately, delicately, hungrily

he sighed with pleasure

her skin flushed

he shuddered when her body moved against his

he planted kisses along her jawline

her lips turned red, messy, kissed and flushed.

his hands were on his hair, pulling him.

light touches traveled down his back

words were coiled at his throat, coming out as broken sobs, wanting more

he arched his back, his breath quivering

her legs parted, sinking into the other's body, encircling around their waist.

+ mention the position, how they're being moved around---are they face down, kneeling, or standing, or on top or on bottom--it's really helpful to give a clear picture.

+ use lustful talk, slow seduction, teasing touches, erratic breathing, give the readers all while also giving them nothing. make them yearn but DO NOT PROLONG IT.

sources to refer to for more:

gesture that gets me on my knees !!

(more to comeee, check out my hot or kisses prompts on my master list!)

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

Jason Kicks down Dick’s apartment door with a duffle bag in hand: turns out it’s not going to work out with Danny.

Dick about to enjoy some Chinese: oh no I thought you were really into him.

Jason, sitting down with a huff: I am but it’s just not going to work out.

Dick: what happened jason?

Jason: I fucked up that’s what.

Jason: he kissed me.

Jason: and afterwards, I panicked

Jason: and, just exclaimed “golly!”

Dick, trying to not keep a straight face:…

Jason: I said it very loudly..

Dick: oh jason-

Jason clutching a pillow: I can’t step foot into crime alley again Dick, I’m going to have to burn my bridges, start over-

Dick, lightly chuckling: it’s not that bad-!

Jason, into the pillow: just put me back into my casket!!

[draw-the-squad-like-this]

Draw your ot3 like this

[almondpiglet]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAREST REIGEN!!

everyone thanks you for entering their lives :')

[veinsfullofstars]

💋 MetaDede Week 2024 Day 2: First Kiss 💋

(ID: Kirby series fanart of King Dedede and Meta Knight standing on a balcony - the latter on the railing - overlooking a late-evening sky, painted in the gold-pink-purple tones of sunset and speckled with stars high above. Turned to face his knight, DDD boldly takes his hand and plants a small kiss on the back of it, eyes shut and cheeks dusted in pink. MK looks up at his king with soft fondness, a hand over his heart, a blush of his own glowing through his mask. Above them against the starry sky, a low-opacity, sepia-toned memory can be seen. Meta - teenaged and maskless with nearly-grown wings, wearing plain steel pauldrons and white gloves; and DDD - teenaged and acne-plagued, wearing an oversized red-and-orange hoodie and a maroon beanie. In a fit of last-second courage, Meta grabs his friend by the front of his hoodie and yanks him down, shutting his eyes and blushing fiercely as he plants a hasty kiss - their first! - on his cheek. DDD leans over unsteadily on one foot, an arm thrown back for balance, his pimply face bright red, his eyes wide with surprise and touched with heart-shaped shines. END ID.)

Previous Day | Next Day | Prompt List (made by @/mtddweek)

Started 08/05/24, finished 08/10/24. | Childhood Friends AU Masterpost

[rynzii-419]

no fuckin way… gay people…..

[the-bar-sinister]

Send me a Ship and a Number and I will Write a Kiss

based on a no longer available prompt by @\grey-wardens-dont-have-dental. 10 prompts have been added, and one has been removed, and the list has been reformatted.

--good morning.

--goodnight.

–hello

--goodbye.

--where it hurts.

--where it doesn’t hurt.

–on each eyelid.

--on a falling tear.

--to shut them up.

–to get them to talk.

--in secrecy.

--in public.

--desperately.

–hesitantly.

--in joy.

--in grief.

--discreetly.

--casually.

--passionately.

--lazily.

—shyly.

--to distract.

--as encouragement.

–as a reward.

--for luck.

--on a scar.

--on a place of insecurity.

--in a rush of adrenaline.

--in relief.

--in danger.

--as a ‘yes’.

–as a 'no'.

--as an apology.

--as a suggestion.

--as a lie.

--as a promise.

--as comfort.

--to wake up.

--forcefully.

–carefully.

--to pretend.

--to gain something.

--to give up control.

– to take control.

--without a motive.

--because they’re running out of time.

--because time’s run out.

--because the world is ending.

--because the world is saved.

--out of pride.

--out of greed.

--out of lust.

--out of anger.

--out of envy or jealousy.

--out of spite.

--out of habit.

–-out of boredom.

--out of necessity.

--out of love.

–out of hate.

[postpendulum]

Some deformed jumbled mess of whatever this idea is has been rattling around in my adhd riddled brain for weeks now and I'm finally forcing myself to write it down, it is barely fleshed out in the slightest (hence, "deformed") and only the main idea is in my brain right now so I'm basically making it up as I write this so, apologies.

The Fenton parents (for whatever reason) decide that Gotham is the perfect place to spend their summer vacation, and while their there through some

💫Wacky Shananagans💫

Danny ends up meeting (omg your never gonna guess this, it's so out of this world for me, who only has one dpxdc post so far and it's this ship as well, it's so wacky and wild, blow your brains out pew pew pew)

DAMIAN!!!!!!💥💥💥💥💥💥‼‼‼‼💥💥💥💥💀💀💀💀💀:O

What the what!?!?!??!?,! WHO WOULD'VE THOUGHT????? I AINT MEVER DUN DIS BEFORE!!!!!!!!

Anyway basically they have a summer romance because idk mwa mwa kissy noises gay gay homosexual gay and whathajaga

And then idk I had this that that like, I saw someone say once somethen like "damn tho the most unrealistic thing about this show is that nobody at that damn school thought Danny was hot💀" and I thought like, "damn bitch that true tho." So like idk, I thought like, I'm pretty sure its psychological fact or whatever (this gonna be damn embarrassing if that isnt true tho cuss ona my possible options ideas plans whatever for college is psychology💀) that confidants makes people more attractive, so like, ig like Danny builds confidence over the summer with you know, getting a boyfriend, Damian not taking any of that whatever bullshit idk ahjaobznaja or maybe just ghost aura shit whatever idfk whatever you want.

Basically when he goes home at back to school after summer break is over people suddenly realize "oh shit wait whys he kinda hot tho," and the fuckers like randos, maybe a-listers, whoever's just a buncha people like flirting tryna shoot their shot whatever, but then Danny's just like, thinking about how much he loves his boyfriend and how much he can't wait to see him in person again and what not. I also like to think Danny probably didn't even tell anyone at school he got a boyfriend, like maybe he even forgot to tell Sam and Tucker because he was to busy being fucking lovestruck, I mean I doubt that would actually happening and it's more likely that he'd constantly be gushing to them about Damian rather then not and I actually like that idea a lot better now that I thing about it that other one was more of a funny little side thought idk. But yeah nobody knows besides like Sam Tucker and Jazz, so yeah.

On o think that's it for me I'm done good night y'all *cue mic drop*

[askgametime]

send a heart and a ship for a brief snippet!

❤️ first kiss / realization

🧡 kissing in bed / lazy kiss / cuddling

💛 reunion kiss / relief

💚 true love's kiss / magic kiss / healed

💙 drunken kiss / tipsy

💜 surprise kiss / impulsive kiss

💗 slow kiss / gentle kiss / inevitable / soft

💖 rough kiss / hot and heavy / making out

💕 kissing somewhere other than lips

💘 fake relationship / mutual pining / dared to kiss

🤎 multiple kisses / kisses all over / kiss after kiss

🤍 kiss at the wedding / milestone

🖤 kissing while crying / goodbye kiss / desperation

[blooming-violets]

In joy with FILE Peter and Charlie? I just like the idea of them adopting a little goth baby and being happy they have the family they deserve I'm sorry Katie I'm so soft for them

[link to original ship prompt]

[link to Forever Isn't Long Enough]

“Peter?”

Charlie lounged in the conservatory, laid out on her favorite wicker chair, as she stared through the glass roof at the blackened sky. A few persistent stars shone back but most were drowned out by the town's light pollution. A strange part of her memory could still see through Charlotte's eyes to look up at the same night sky over 300 years ago. Like she was seeing the same image from two perspectives throughout time. The difference in the number of stars now was depressing. 

She had been doing that a lot lately.

Sharing more and more memories with Charlotte. 

“Hmm?” He glanced up from his novel with a relaxed smile on his pale lips. His eyes softened the moment they caught her in his gaze. The ruby red of his iris gave off a faint glow in the dark room. 

Through Charlotte’s eyes, she could still see glimpses of his warm, chocolate brown one’s staring back at her. Even though he had been frozen in time, Peter had looked like such a boy back then compared to the man sitting here now. His body might never physically change but time will always change the way one carries themselves. The eyes don’t lie. 

Charlie placed an absentminded hand over her stomach with a soft sigh, “Do you ever think about the child?” 

His shoulders tensed and he tucked the book away at his side, “Which child would that be, dear?” 

She sat up and shot him an unimpressed look. He knew exactly which one she was talking about. 

“Your child.” She still didn’t feel right saying “our” child. She wanted to separate herself from Charlotte as much as possible. It wasn’t her baby who died in her womb but, somehow, the grief of that loss was becoming a constant nagging in the back of her mind. Her stomach would ache with a hollow emptiness whenever she thought about it. “The one Charlotte was pregnant with when she died.”

Peter was still for a long time. Charlie counted the tiles on the floor under them while she waited for a response. He was prone to doing that. Time worked differently for him. He would often take his time to think and process before speaking. What felt like ten minutes to her, would only be a few passing seconds to him. 

Finally, he stirred, letting out a long, deep sigh. His jaw tightened then relaxed and he leaned back in his seat. 

“Yes,” his reply was stiff and calculated. “I’ve thought about it every day of my agonizingly long life before you got here.” 

Charlie chewed at her bottom lip, trying not to feel ashamed for asking him the question. She was trying to learn how to be more assertive. She was allowed to talk to Peter. She was allowed to ask questions. Even if he didn’t like what she was asking. He would never hurt her for being curious. He was a safe person to talk with. 

“And?”

“And what?” He forced a tight smile, his fangs flashing under the moonlit night. “It’s something I can’t change. The past is the past, Charlie. This is the present. I am here, with you, happier than I’ve been in centerties. I no longer feel the need to torture myself over what could have been. I have you. I don’t need anything else.” 

The past wasn’t just the past for her. It was flooding into her life like a ghost with unfinished business. She kept flashing between the present and past. Little glimpses of memories. Overwhelming feelings of Charlotte’s emotions. She wasn’t allowed to just be Charlie until Charlotte got put to rest. 

And there was one thing that Charlotte wanted more than anything. 

She had found her Peter again. She had found a place for them to be safe with their love. But there was still something important missing. 

“Do you think I would be a good mother?” Charlie asked quietly, looking at her lap to not over analyze his expression. 

She heard him stand up. He silently strode the few steps towards her and leaned down between her legs. His cold hands wrapped around her cheeks and lifted her head up to face him. He wore a look of soft love plastered across his sharp features. 

“Do you think you would be?” He brushed his lips over the tip of her nose. “Because I know what I think but you’re the only one who knows your true self. I could sing your praises for years but only you know what is in your heart.” 

“Charlotte wants her baby.” 

Peter gave her a sad smile, “Charlotte is dead. Charlotte can not want. She is not here. What does Charlie want? Because that is who I care about.” 

She closed her eyes, nestling her head deeper against the safety of his palm, “I don’t know. Something is missing, though. There’s a piece still not in place.” 

Peter dropped an arm down to hook under her knees and easily lifted her into his arms. He sat down in her place instead with her draped over his lap and snuggled into his chest. His hands tangled in her hair with soothing strokes over her scalp. 

“Our lives are not normal, Charlie.” He whispered into the top of her hair, leaving kisses peppered over her. “I can’t…I can’t give you children. Not like before. Not like a normal man could. If that’s a deal breaker, I can figure something out, I can-”

She cut him off with a swift kiss to his lips, “It’s not a deal breaker. I don’t need you to give me children like that. There are other ways, though. There are kids out there. Sad, lonely kids who have known nothing but abuse and pain. Kids who long for someone to just love them. Why can’t that be us? I know what it’s like to grow up in a broken home. I think- I think I could love a broken kid better than anyone.” 

Peter smiled at the thought, “I think you could, too.” He tightened his grip around her waist to hold her closer. “I raised a child once. A long time ago. Late 1800’s. I was living in Queens. He was living on the streets. I used to buy newspapers from him. He was always around in the evenings when I would be out. One day I let him come inside for a meal and, next thing I know, he’s become my ward. His name was…was…” 

She waited patiently while he thought through his old, foggy memories. 

“Miles! That was it!” He planted a sloppy kiss to her cheek. “He was a good kid. I kept watch over him until he was 18. I sent him off to college with my money and left him a good fortune to do with as he pleased while I traveled around. I wonder what he made of it…” 

Charlie leaned her head against his shoulder. She liked the idea of Peter picking up stray children throughout time to help improve their lives. 

His mood darkened to a sulk, “But that’s the curse of living forever. People you love, they keep growing, they outlive you, and then they die. We might be able to have forever but they won’t. That’s the price you need to think of before you decide what you want to do.”

She lifted herself up to straddle her legs on either side of his lap so she could properly face him. 

“Peter Parker, that is not a curse,” she chastised him. She squished his cheeks between her palms to make sure he was paying full attention. “That is a blessing. Think of how many lives we could change with our forever. You changed a little boy’s life over a hundred years ago. He might be dead now but who knows what he went on to do. It sounds like you never stuck around to find out. He could have changed the world. He could have saved lives. He could have gotten married and had children of his own who were able to grow up in a financially stable household. Those kids could have gone on to do something great. His life got to open up because you showed him an act of love. Imagine what we could do. Together. Imagine the lives we could change if we really wanted to. I was a sad, lonely little girl who did not know what love felt like. I want to use that pain to make sure I can help someone else. I want…I want a child! Me. Charlie wants this. Please, Peter. This is what I need.”

A wide smile spread across his lips, showing off his pointed teeth that she loved so much, and he let out a quiet laugh, “You know I would give anything in the world, right? I would give you anything you ever asked for. Your wishes are my command. I am nothing but a humble servant sent to do your bidding.” 

“Then give me this,” she whispered, leaning in closer to bump foreheads with him. “Let’s adopt a kid. Foster a child. Open an orphanage. Fuck it, let’s steal a kid from some assholes if we have to! But let’s do this. I want it.” 

She could swear his eyes were sparking under the moonlight. 

“If you want it. I want it,” he grinned. 

Charlie threw her arms around his neck and crashed her lips onto his, smiling into the kiss with a squeal, and mumbling happily against his mouth, “I love you, Peter.”

He replied with a happy, satisfied moan, “Forever.”

They for sure go on to adopt a little girl who never smiles and scowls at everyone and has dark bags under her eyes and doesn't trust a single soul in the world. And they slowly let her open up to them on her own time while providing her with a stable environment. AND THE FIRST TIME THEY HEAR HER LAUGH?? omg they both look at each other with tears in their eyes. She loves to explore the house and look at all the old antiques Peter has around. She steals the one's she likes most and keeps them under her bed in a growing pile like a magpie collecting her trinkets. She falls in love with Charlie first because she has a lot of mistrust around men but eventually Peter wins her over by clearing a spot in his library just for her and her children books. They have a vintage style nursery set up for her with all her toys. Peter handmakes all her wooden toys and sews her stuffed animals. He paints murals around the house for her to admire like he one he painted behind Charlie's bed. She gets to grow up with parents love and adore her and have all the time in the world to just experience life with her.

[urfriendlywriter]

softest love prompts:

(feel free to use<3 i literally cried through these, but 6th, 7th, 8th prompt just--made me bawl.) (tag me when yall writeee)

"you look like a flower, the prettiest one."

touching foreheads in a hug :(

not being able to contain a smile around them

searching for them in the crowd, and they're looking right at you with the fondest of smiles

"when you are tired, love, lean on me." "and when you are?" "I'll find comfort in your arms :)"

the hands that tug a little bit closer in a hug, a little bit of both hearts spilling into the same sink, a love that spills

that gaze--tired, soft, their thumb gently rubbing your cheek, noses touching, silently mumbling an "i love you"

feeling so much yet having no words to describe all of it :/ (at times like these, actions speaks so much!!)

when they're tired and they bury their face deeper into your crook in a hug :(((

braiding their hair. making them wear cute clips >\\<

gives you random small but thoughtful gifts

noticing your lover's small habits (like how they smirk when they're proud, how they tilt their head in confusion, how they smile when they're shy)

they tickle you and you fall on your bed, laughing. they stop midway, grinning, "your laugh. oh my god!!" followed by more tickle attacks<3333

head pats !

they get shy when you compliment them in public!

[draw-the-squad-like-this]

Draw your characters like this

[way-too-obsessed-gamer]

Yeah I think the whole "cuddling for warmth with the man made of fire" thing with coalecroux is cute but also as someone with back pain where's "Gideon I require your healing prowess (cuddles until my damn back ache goes away)"

[kawareo]

12 for the prompts! make me sad ramsay

Aleks you didn't tell me which ship so i can make it a non-ship, this is your fault (prompt was In Grief)

Pre-canon Durge and Orin, mild nsfw and potential incest warning? But not really, it's not meant to be sexual 404 words

Bhaal’s Chosen lays broken and bleeding, his eyes turned up to the skies as he chokes on his own blood. Their own blood.

Fool. Lovesick fool.

Orin can’t bring herself to finish him off, and she doesn’t know if it’s love or hatred that stays her blade – to kill him, it would be to free them both from his suffering, from the horrid fate that was to happen to him now that he has failed their Father so greatly.

Sitting in the puddle of his blood, Orin reaches out, realizing only when her fingers touch his cheek that she isn’t holding her dagger in that hand, but she can’t stop touching him. She caresses the hair that stuck to his face off of it, she penetrates the wound in his temple with her thumb, she watches his eyes roll back and his body convulse when she pets over a fold of his brain with it. For the first time, he dances to her rhythm, and Orin doesn’t know what to feel.

His bloody mouth parts with no words to unleash, the gaping wound over his throat matching his lips in redness and silence. He would make a fine art, Orin thinks as she sits over him, Father’s favorite, now brought to her mercy.

She thought she’d feel more joy from this, but fate works in strange ways, and Orin feels hollow as she feels him twitch.

“What to do with it, Chosen,” she murmurs, and she can hear his cheerful suggestions, the way her brother dearest always spoke when she asked nicely – his not-quite corpse only sputters. “Yes, you’re right, righteous. The corpse dancer might know, yes...”

She sighs at the thought of having to drag him all the way over to the cursed towers, but she should’ve gone anyway, to inform Myrkul’s withered Chosen of the change in leadership.

Orin leans down, her hands cupping brother’s cheeks, pale eyes watching the confusion in his own. He never saw her capable of it, has he? Her lips find his, short and once, the only time. His blood burns her at the touch and it is only right, for them both to hurt because he never saw it coming.

Orin curls up at his side and waits for him to die, a revival scroll clutched in her steady hand, and she doesn’t know if she’s about to sin out of love or hatred or fear.

[its-all-papaya]

can we get a lestappen or a landoscar + 13? maybe after waiting for a long time? or after one of them thought the other had been injured? 👀

heyyyyyy bestie anon, I come with gift ! it didn't end up that desperate, but I started in a direction and loved it too much to abandon, so if you want, I'll write that injury landoscar for you down the road as an apology.

other disclaimers include: I do not speak any of these languages & I am not remarkably well-versed in lestappen lore. ALLLLL that being said, I am quite fond of this one.

send me a ship and a number and i will write a kiss

13. desperately | lestappen | ~800

Charles thinks he’s been in love with Max since before he knew the word for it. He had amour and he had amore, but Max had neither of those. And by the time they both had love, there were too many other words between them in all their varied languages, a mess of translations.

Because before Charles had love, he had colère, fighting back from P7 after Max edged him off the track in France. There was envie, watching his childhood rival slide into the seat of an F1 car through the screen of his laptop, balanced on his knees where he sat on the floor of his bedroom. With Ferrari, there was frustrazione from the garage as Charles watched Max take the chequered flag in front of a backdrop that he’d been looking at for 23 years. It was Charles’ view before Max knew it existed, and that was devastazione, heartbreak.

(Charles knows now that for Max, before there was love, there was pijn and there was snelheid and there was very little else.)

He’s known how to battle Max since before he knew English. He learned how it felt to overtake Max on track before he learned how to fit his mouth around the word - ‘overtake.’ Before he knew disappointment, before he knew victory, he knew déception, watching Max beat him and la victoire, beating Max.

In all of Charles’ memories, in each of his milestones, Max is there. In the pits, on the podium, thighs pressed together in the curve of the couch. For as far back as his memory extends, there has been racing boots and rubber, and around the apex of every turn, always there is Max.

Seven months after that afternoon in Monaco, Charles watches Max take the top step of a podium for the tenth time in a year and the hundredth time in his memory. He looks up at the boy he’s been battling nearly all his life and it’s the first time he’s seen him and thought fierté, proud.

Somewhere between that night in Abu Dhabi and two and a half years later in Imola, though, the weight of the world has switched shoulders. Charles has never been unburdened in F1, has never been light (if he’s allowed for a moment to be maudlin, he’ll admit he doesn’t know anybody who’s donned rosso corsa and come out the other side without an ache in their bones from the weight of it), but that has always been just another thing he shares with Max. He’s been comparing them one to the other for so long that it has become a part of his every weekend, like strapping his helmet, like saying his prayers. Max has never been soft, but his success has settled his fury, and when they interact now – more than ever – often he is doux, gentle. There are three World Championships between them and enough points that Charles doesn’t bother counting. He should look up the grid and feel jalousie, but instead he looks up from P3 through a mist of champagne and realizes the feeling (next to his motivation) is friand, fond.

Every weekend there is Max, and every summer there is Monaco. They occupy adjacent places in Charles’ chest: constant like racing, glittering like trophies. Always what he is chasing, always out of reach.

Only this summer, impossibly, there is no devastazione. There is no frustrazione. There is just vittoria, euforia, victory in Monaco.

He’s won, and it’s not a Championship but for now, for today, he can’t imagine winning anything that would matter more. Fresh out of the harbor, the Monégasque salt still stinging in his eyes, he thinks of every kilometer he’s ever driven, every podium he’s ever stood on, every moment he’s spent fighting for this, and always, toujours, sempre the person beside him. Monaco is Formula 1 and Monaco is home – a pair of associations that belong to the streets of Monte Carlo and only one other thing.

The champagne is sparkling in his bloodstream when he returns to the paddock, but it dims in comparison to the feeling he gets when he meets Max’s eyes. It is nothing to run to him and it is everything to reach him.

Max whispers words and they are English, but they could be any language and Charles would still understand. It is Abu Dhabi, it is Val D’Argenton, it is Monaco in Max’s gaze when his arms fit tightly around Charles. When Charles kisses Max, there are no words left. It’s desperation, it’s passion, it’s two decades in the making. It’s wet with Charles’ tears – relief like a victory lap – and it’s amour, amore. Charles’ hands bracket a face he’s spent his whole life watching and his mouth slides against a mouth he’s loved since before it could even speak to him. It is a long time until they part.

Charles thinks enfin, finally, and pour toujours, forever.