#dream wips

[thatswhatyoucall--adream]

Despite me only getting this little idea around 10 hours ago, I’ve managed to write roughly 2k words of this thing. Here is a tiny little bit of it as this is now a WIP because my brain won’t leave it alone despite having 87362574 WIPs to get through. So here is Day 3 of posting an excerpt of a WIP.

“I’d rather spend one life time with you than face all of the ages of this world alone.”

The world was ending. That much was evident. Pierre let out a humorless chuckle as he surveyed the lands surrounding him. Winter had long laid claim to the North, the snow covered hills stood in stark contrast to the thick black smoke moving in from the west as the forests burn. There had been a 4 day battle there and while his men had managed to hold off the enemy soldiers and force them into a retreat, there had been a huge list of casualties. 

He sighed and dropped down onto the boulder near the edge of the cliff, scrubbing a hand down his face and holding his head in his hand and just taking time to breathe. Well, as best as he could, anyway. He hadn’t been able to take a full breath in months, not since that night in the castle, not since he...

Pierre sighed again and shook his head, the fierce grip of regret wrapping itself around his windpipe, forcing him to swallow to try to rid himself of the feeling. It was for the best, he knew it and when...Pierre snorted out a laugh, he couldn’t even bring himself to think of his name, the pain was too much and too vivid and too real. He’d give anything to see him one more time, anything to say something ridiculous and watch those dimples appear. It was better this way. He was here, leading the charge, defending the kingdom as he was charged to do and Charles, well, Charles was safe somewhere and when it was safe here he could come back and rule the kingdom that he was predestined to do. 

Pierre ignored the way his heart stuttered as he thought of those eyes, and slope of his nose in the early evening sun, the way golden hour really did feel golden in his presence. It was better this way, he reminded himself, Charles was safe and there was never any other choice in the matter. Charles’ safety would take precedence over any and all other decisions he would ever make. Even if that meant he had to live without him. 

[thatswhatyoucall--adream]

Day 2 of my posting a snippet of a WIP in the hopes it'll make me write and finish and do all the fun stuff that comes with it.

This one is a little different; mentions of the absolute shit show that was Suzuka 22. So I'd skip this if that isn't a theme that you'd wanna read!

Almost is more than enough.

When he saw the crane, his heart had sunk but his mind was so busy whirring around on deltas and flags and spray and tires, that Charles didn't have time to process any of it. Not really.

But now he's propped up against his headboard in his bed in the hotel, some movie playing on the laptop, sound not really registering. He's seen it a million times before, anyway. His hand is stroking through Pierre's hair, the French man now asleep, sprawled across the bed, head on a pillow in Charles' lap.

Charles knows, logically, everyone is safe and here and well, the rising and falling of Pierre's shoulder as he sleeps tells him this, but the fear that has been trying to claw its way up his chest is making itself known now.

Today was a mess.

Everyone had agreed, except some commentators who shall remain nameless, that it was an absolute shit show. He'd felt the anger rise when George was ignoring the group chat that was popping off with everyone's opinion and it had only mildly simmered when Lewis had mentioned that George was trying to make calls. It was too wet to be doing the race when they did, everyone said so. The experienced voices said no, and yet they were pushed into it and clearly noone was ready for the consequences of the choices that had been made for them.

Pierre's hand gripping his shirt pulled him from his thoughts as he blinked down at him still on his lap, realising he'd stopped stroking his hair, a small smile tugging at his lips as the other man instantly settled as soon as Charles' hand started moving again.

[f0lkvangr]

rats rats

[thatswhatyoucall--adream]

So, I've decided to post an excerpt from one of my WIPs every day until I'm confident enough to post the entire works.

It's always the same when we're out.

We gravitate towards each other in a large crowd, drinks in hand, a hug for each other because "it has been such a long time!" And then there's a brief catch-up, filling each other in on whatever we seem to have missed, and then inevitably being dragged in different directions by different people, as we have always done.

It goes from there, then. The glances, the smiles from a distance as we move closer together. The touches that linger a little too long as we moved past each other, the hands brushing at the bar. Before long, my arm is firmly round your back, thumb brushing the skin just below your top, touch hidden by the leather jacket you never part from. Your hand is on my shoulder, slowly making its way towards my neck and around my shoulders pulling me in.

It is innocent at first, a laugh followed by a kiss to the cheek, then the temple. It doesn't take long before we're outside in the beer garden for a smoke, away from prying eyes because they don't know about us yet, they never will, and I know I should be sadder about that than I am, because you're looking at me with that smile, the one you get right before you kiss me and I know the second your lips touch mine I won't remember why I'm supposed to be angry with you, and feeling something other than rage is more appealing than anything has been in a long time.

Well, since we last did this anyway.