#ty james 💕

[kirkwall]

41, 51, 61!✨

41) Torna a Casa - Måneskin

51) Like Real People Do - Hozier

61) Foreigner’s God - Hozier

[dirhwangdaseul-archived]

—  giovanni’s room, j.b.

[gtgbabie0]

-Cowboy!Remus Lupin x Reader

{You’re the preachers daughter but God be damned he just can’t keep away even if it’s to see you for just a small moment.}

Cowboy Remus, you have saved lives. Enjoy lovelies 💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺

The sunset casts over the horizon, painting the clouds in the prettiest colours, a pinky-orangey mixture swirling throughout the sky. It makes for a beautiful sight as Remus makes his way through the plains on his brown Spanish Mustang, a loyal horse that’s been with him through thick and thin.

He knows where he’ll end up, back at your father’s small ranch house despite the tiny part of his mind that screams at him to turn around. Your father would shoot him, he reckons, he might be a man of faith but you’re his little girl.

With a soft groan, he runs his hand through his horse's mane as he trots across the trodden grass. He continues on the path to your ranch, excitement bubbling up inside him as your house comes into his line of sight.

Remus knows that you’ll be alone, this isn’t the first time he’s been here, sneaking around like some damn outlaw. He knows your father is off in town doing his daily sermons that last for hours. He can’t help but smirk at the idea of getting a moment alone with you… his sweetheart. Even if it’s fleeting.

He’s tying his horse to the hitching post just by the white fencing of your house when you come rushing over to him with a joyous expression. That sweet smile of yours is enough to make anyone fall to their knees. Remus nods to you, taking off his hat as he holds it to his chest.

“Thought you’d forgotten about me.” You say, giggling softly. You lean over the fencing as he walks over to you, hooking his hat on the white wood.

He shakes his head, and his calloused palm grazes your cheek as he brushes your hair behind your ear. “How could I forget ‘bout you?” He asks with a grin, admiring the soft cotton dress you’re wearing and the way the fabric ripples through the wind.

It was true, there wasn’t a world where Remus could ever forget about you, your soft skin and pretty eyes are practically engraved into his mind and heart. That’s why he’s here, standing in front of you despite his better judgment and the fact he knows that your father, deep down, would never approve of him dating you.

The smell of the outdoors and firewood lingers on his sun-kissed skin. You’re hit with it as he leans down slightly to press a soft kiss against your cheek.

“Have you eaten yet?… and I mean a good meal.” Your question makes his heart swell with love and he can’t help but chuckle.

“Yeah, I’ve eaten sweetheart.” He promises, pressing his thumb against your chin, he tilts your head upwards to look at him as he steps closer to you with his other hand resting against your hip.

You nod, wrapping your arms around his waist before slipping your hands into his back pockets. A habit you’ve picked up on from him. He smirks down at you.

“Are you coming in?” God, the way his mind spins with that question and how badly he wants to say ‘yes’ and stay with you.

“Can’t stay for long, baby. James and Sirius are expecting me down at the Saloon.” He tells you, soothing his thumb along your jaw as you pout up at him with a look of disappointment in your eyes.

“Oh, come on now.” He chuckles, pressing a sweet kiss to your pouty lips. “Don’t give me that face, pretty thing. you know why I can’t stay.”

Remus presses another kiss to your lips as your expression softens. “He’s gonna find out one day.” You’ve got a point, one day Remus will have to bite the bullet and fish out a neat suit to meet your strict father.

“Hmm… not if I steal ya away first.” He teases, enjoying the way you roll your eyes slightly with a huff. He tugs you closer to him by your hips. “Promise, one day I’ll let ya introduce me to him.” He says, pressing his face into the crook of your neck as he takes in the scent of your flowery perfume.

You decide to trust him, after all, he’s never once lied to you before. Remus just isn’t the type, he’s a man that values trust and he’d never take yours for granted.

“Why’d you come all the way out here then?” Your question makes him lift his head up from your shoulder, his eyebrow-raising with a playful look.

“Just wanted to see your pretty face.” He states simply as if it was the most obvious thing in the whole world. “I don’t need an excuse to come and see ya do I?”

You shake your head, looking up at him. “No… I’m glad you came, I’ve missed you.” There it goes again, your words make his chest bloom with a warmth that leaves a sickly sweet taste in his mouth.

“Missed you too baby.” He whispers, his fingers fiddling with the dainty golden cross that sits against your collarbones. He knows your father will be back soon, he should get going but at the same time, he can’t seem to pull himself away.

Remus takes your hands in his own, glancing over to his horse before looking back down to you. “You wanna go riding with me tomorrow?” He asks, hope gleaming in his honeyed eyes.

The excitement in your expression is truly a sight he’ll never get bored of. “Of course, I’ll wait for you after breakfast.” You tell him and he hums in agreement, picking his hat up and fixing it on his head.

“Better get some sleep then, I’ll be here early.” He smiles, caressing your warm cheek with his thumb. He tilts his hat up slightly so he can lean down and press a loving kiss to your lips that tapers off into small pecks.

“I will love you, cowpoke.” You whisper against his lips, shying away from him ever so slightly as he trails his lips along your jaw to your cheek, he grins against your soft skin.

“Love you too.” He whispers, fixing his hat once more.

He kisses your forehead before walking over to his horse, unhitching him from the post before saddling up. With a wave he clicks his tongue and his horse is off, carrying him away from the ranch, leaving only a promise of returning tomorrow.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺

-Art by @/sophithil on twt

[theesteemedladydebourgh]

Rated: E

“We should start a club.”

“Of what, failed relationships and questionable life choices?”

One’s in love. One’s in denial. 12 months of marriage, go.

well, hello! long time no...write 😅 ty to everyone for being so patient, and for all the lovely messages you've sent me about TFTDC over the last few years 💕

chapter 8 is finally here, though it is in two parts (blame my ancient outline which was truly like trying to decipher runes to figure out, james's emotions...or just the cosmos). highs and lows abound! one more than the other! (i'll let you figure out which).

hope you enjoy xx.

playlist here for the l(over) it vibes.

Read Chapter 8 // June I: in and out of focus on Ao3!

[ss-shitstorm]

Hey I know you’ve probably already been asked this but what type of chemistry do you use for breaking bread like biochem and where did you learn this or have any book recommendations to pick it up? Also ty in advance I love your writing!!💕💕

oh my fucking god. oh my god. buddy. buddy you have made my fucking LIFE ASKING THIS OH GOD

So like, most of the chemistry I've used so far has just been Genchem and O Chem(with a wee few modifications to make it believable as a Cybertronian discipline, like Transformium being able to hold 4 bonds like Carbon but preferentially forming bonds w metals and needing an EMP pulse to interact w more electronegative atoms) I may wind up needing to get into a bit of Inorganic chemistry, but that's probably fewer and further in between. If you want a better handle on the stuff I'm writing or if you just want to learn more in general, then I'd recommend giving yourself a lil crash course in Genchem and then delving into O chem a bit more extensively (protip : you need WAY less Genchem then you'd think to fully understand O chem. God I wish someone had told me this 5 years ago. If you search "Genchem for non majors", you'll probably learn enough that way.)

THAT SAID : here's a chaotic, not really in any order list of the books/youtube channels/etc that I've directly used/am using for this fic.

Books :

Caveman Chemistry, Kevin R Dunn - Alot of hands-on old timey historical chemistry lessons w detailed instructions on how to complete them.(YOU GET TO MAKE YOUR OWN ASPIRIN AND DRAIN CLEANER!) Delivered with a delightfully occult bend.

Back To basics,(Reader's Digest) - Survivalist homesteading bible. Not strictly chemistry but has alot of earthy hippy ways of generating energy( biofuels my beloved)

An Introduction to Fire Dynamics, Dougal Drysdale - Honestly this, and any other firefighting manuals are worth their weight in gold for figuring out how to not set yourself and your neighborhood on fire while playing with, well, fire. Trying to look this info up online is like playing russian roulette with intentional misinformation and your fbi guy.

(there's another book I have that's even more detailed but I can't find it right now or remember the name. I'll update this list when I can!)

Organic Chemistry, John Mcmurray 8th edition : generic but good college O chem textbook. You can search around and find free versions to download relatively easily.

The Organic Chem Lab Survival Manual, James W Zubrick - Also a very good way to learn how to not set yourself and your neighborhood on fire when playing with glassware/gases. Very in-depth instructions on setting up and using lab equipment without breaking anything or your brain. Has a fuckton of pictures. Author has a massive sense of humor and makes this heavy subject easy to read. Again, easy to download/find in archives

Unfortunately I do not have any recommendations for Genchem books. I mostly used free online courses like Khan Academy to learn what I did.(I would def. recommend them though)

Youtube Channels :

The Organic Chemistry Tutor : Dude puts everything from reaction mechanisms to retrosynth problems down in the simplest possible terms. Does not beat around the bush with euphemisms or stories, gets right to business. If you have trouble paying attention, or lose your mind when a professor goes off on a tangent, this man is your savior. I have crippling unmedicated ADHD and no STEM background whatesoever and this man still managed to teach me 2 separate ways to execute a Gabriel Synthesis

Nile Red : World's most inefficient and most powerful wizard. I am not entirely convinced he's human. Does shit like turning plastic gloves into drinkable grape soda or making sweeteners out of his own piss and somehow makes it explainable to trash goblins like me who only need the science for warlord pussy.

again, anon, holy shit thank you so much. Like you wouldn't believe the amount of damage you've just undone. i have been beating myself into a pulp and spiraling into anxiety about this fic an trying to do everything right and you've given me enough moxie to fuel me for at least the next 10 chapters. If you have any more questions or more specific questions, please do not hesitate to ask! I can't guarantee I can answer them, but damnit I'll try. Take care and happy learning you funky lil moonbean.

[kisskissbanggang]

Disavowed - pt. 2

[5.5k Words/20min. Read - Priest!Chris x Reader - NSFW/Smut - Church, Your Mind is Playing Tricks on You, Confrontations, Something Feels Off, Catholic Guilt, Priest Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Truck Sex, I Swear This is a Halloween Series]

[a/n: finally time to get halloween cranked up to speed 💕 ty to @magicficwriting and @therhythmafterthesummer for beta reading 💗]

[Part 1 | Come Say Hi!]

It felt forbidden to be in a room full of people and be the only one to know that Christopher, Father Bang, was a disgusting hypocrite. 

The day of your realization had been Sunday, obviously. It was now Thursday, after school, and you were all crowded into the modest boardroom next door to the faculty lounge of Pinewood Falls Prep. The walls were probably supposed to be white, if it weren’t for decades of wear and cigarette smoke. Even if the smell didn’t persist, the resulting hue of curdled cream lingered.

“So that settles it. It is generous of you to step up, dear… Dear?”

An elbow gently dug into your own at the conference table. You were so distracted. 

Your gaze swung to your side to identify who just nudged you, when you recalled that Jisung was the one who so politely saved you a seat. Reverend Han, you had learned, was the other young man that helped Father James serve mass alongside Chris.

That creep.

Chris, that is. Not Jisung… although you had to admit that you weren’t exactly in love with how polite the deacon was. 

“Dear…?”

You finally snapped out of your brooding then, finding Sister Judith rolling her eyes at the front of the room.

“Poor lamb must be sleeping with her eyes open,” Father James chuckled. To your chagrin, Chris laughed along. You wanted to shout it out at the whole room right then, just what a liar and a fraud the deceptively handsome priest was.

“I was saying,” Sister Judith reiterated, “that I know there’s a litany of work left in the wake of Jacqueline’s sudden departure, but that it’s generous of you to volunteer and step up to take it on, dear.”

“I did…?” you murmured out loud, stricken with disbelief. Jisung patiently nodded to confirm it for you.

To say that Sister Judith’s assistant left suddenly was an understatement. When you arrived at work early on Monday morning, her desk behind yours, in front of the Sister’s office, was empty. Every notepad, pen, and paperclip was gone, as if no one had ever occupied the space in the first place. Sister Judith wouldn’t tell you why Jacqueline left, but you supposed it was none of your business. At the beginning of today’s meeting, Father James had simply said it was a shame, but you were surprised that no one at all seemed to particularly care that the young woman had vanished so abruptly.

“You won’t take on everything, of course,” Sister Judith clarified. “You’ll be taking care of Jacqueline’s filing duties and backing up the receptionist when Roberta is unavailable. That’s all.”

“What about the lunchtime study group in the library?” Jisung suddenly asked. “Jacqueline was running it.”

“You can take that on if you have the time, Reverend,” suggested Sister Judith.

Jisung slouched back in his chair, as though he suddenly regretted saying anything in the first place. “Oh, uh,” he scrambled shyly, “that’s no problem, I guess. I just don’t know if the kids will take a liking to me–”

“Not like Christopher, you mean,” Father James laughed heartily, clapping a hand on the priest’s shoulder. “They practically flock to him.”

Chris humbly waved him off. “I hardly have anything worthwhile to teach; it’s just gym,” he denied. “I make myself available; that’s all. You have plenty to teach! Make yourself available, Jisung, and they’ll flock to you, too.”

The staff all but fawned over the platitude. Your pen’s barrel creaked in your hand, you were so close to snapping it in half. That pretty boy golden child had everyone wrapped around his little finger and it made you livid.

You left the staff meeting in a daze, trying to figure out why on Earth Chris refused to acknowledge you with any ounce of recognition. The whole ordeal felt like he was taunting you, and it was on the verge of working. There was no way it wasn’t him that you’d slept with. You remembered far too much of the whole night.

Maybe it was because your pride was admittedly hurt. You weren’t typically one for one-night stands like the one you were positive you engaged in, but the idea had intrigued you enough to want it. Now it just felt like you were being punished, some cosmic joke at your expense because you acted on your desires for once and now you couldn’t get it out of your head.

Indeed, even though you’d gone to your interview and mass with only an inkling of what exactly had transpired on Friday night, that fuzzy recollection had since turned high definition and was currently blasting at full volume in a maddening loop in your head. You had tried a divey little bar in Briar Bay, only a thirty minute drive away. There were no bars in Pinewood Falls from what you could tell, so the short trip seemed worth it. The bar had been a dank hole in the wall, a cozy hangout popular with the boat crews and mussel farmers that worked the bay. You’d noticed Chris before he ever saw you. He wasn’t wearing his clerical collar that night, obviously. Instead, you were drawn to this man sitting alone at a table in the corner, with the brim of his baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. You had left him alone and minded your own business at the bar…

Until a beer appeared in front of you before you could even start a tab. The bartender pointed at the sender.

Right at Chris.

Here, now, today, you were feeling self-conscious and self-righteous all at once while you grabbed your bag from where you’d stowed it in your desk, back in the main office. It had been a long day of school, and the weekly staff meeting made this one feel even longer. Chris had shared one single flash of recognition with you at mass on Sunday, but never again in the days since. He had to be too ashamed, you were positive. Grouchy was an understatement for how you were feeling. You were on edge. All week, you strained to make pointed eye contact with this man, see if you could catch him replicating that explicitly guilty glint in his eye that he had during church, and he was staunchly refusing.

Even over dinner, you drifted, like a wraith, into the dining room of the boarding house and barely paid attention to your perfectly charming and sweet housemates. Seungmin and one of your fellow boarders, Felix, had worked so hard on making a gorgeous dinner, but you were so plainly pissed to the point that you couldn’t properly taste food. The worst part, honestly, was that you weren’t solely thinking of outing this disgusting man.

You were plagued by how much you couldn’t stop thinking of your night together. Not only were you burdened with this miserable secret, but you were the only one who knew what this man looked like under his clothes, the way he acted in bed. He was horrendously attractive. He was regretfully skilled. Those juvenile little hickeys he left all over you took days to vanish. In fact, most of them finally faded just the previous morning–something you’d never experienced before. The longest a love bite had ever stuck around on your skin was maybe three, four days, but five felt like a ridiculously long time. It was only adding to the way you couldn’t get the picture of Chris’ bare chest or carved hips out of your head, couldn’t shake the feeling of his soft lips or his rough stubble. 

One stupid hickey remained–angry and red and framed with teeth marks–right between your cleavage. More like a bite than anything.

This was going on far too long. 

It was Friday. Your housemates probably thought you were sick in the head. They’d been so cordial and polite, trying as much as they reasonably could to get you to open up and share a little, maybe unload some of the burden you were clearly carrying. The previous week, before you’d ever slept with Chris by accident, you were gladly chatting and helping with housework, staying up late to wash dishes with the boys and sip iced tea on the porch, wrapped up in sweaters when the breeze picked up.

You almost felt ill. More than the guilt, more than the shame, more than the way you were convinced everyone knew you were complicit in Father Chris’ sin, you hated that you wanted to be right. The way he ignored you was too practiced, too aloof. What hurt more than him not showing any guilt was him not even showing any hint of knowing you existed in any capacity outside of school. You tried like hell to keep your head down, get your work done, try to confront the pile of Jacqueline’s filing left unfinished.

It was the damned filing that did you in, ultimately. An approved stack of staff schedules now sat at the top of the pile, unearthed after you made some progress in your fastidious sorting and storing. Fr. Bang, Christopher was staring right at you, begging you to glance at the piece of paper. Planning: 2nd Period.

You wished you would move on and let it go, but you peeked at the clock on the wall. It was almost a quarter after 9 o’clock. There was plenty of time. 

You would do it.

No, you wouldn’t. You would work through the mountain of filing.

Yes, you would. You would confront this asshole once and for all and get him to admit that he recognized you, that he was disgusting and immoral.

The hallway was crushingly empty as you walked to the gym. Your shoes clicked loud on the aged linoleum floor. It was disarming, being this hyper-aware and critical of your own actions. Something resembling embarrassment clung to you like static.

Why were you so obsessed with doing this?

Walking into the gym, you almost chickened out when you found it empty, even though that was the entire point of catching him during his planning period in the first place. You scanned the basketball court and the stands extended from the wall, finding no sign of life and abashedly turning right back around to leave.

“Wait, I’m here!” rang out a voice behind you. “Can I help you with something?”

You warily turned back to face the voice, finding it to belong to no other than Father Chris. 

He smiled softly, kindly attempting to keep you from running off. “That’s right,” he nodded with recollection. Your gut twisted. “You’re the new office manager, right?”

That was it. This was your breaking point. “You’re kidding, right?” you scoffed. Chris’ eyes widened in bewilderment.

“I’m… what?” he asked. “Are you alright, dear?” He stepped closer, and flinched when you smacked away his outstretched hand.

“That’s rich!” you cackled. “How long are you going to keep lying? How long until you stop pretending you don't know me?”

Chris shook his head in confusion. “I’m sorry, dear,” he said. “What are you telling me? I’m afraid I don’t understand–”

“Seriously?!” you balked. “You’re going to act like we’ve never met?!”

“We met before?” the priest blinked at you, maybe even a little bashful. Flattered, even. “Maybe in a dream, but I don’t think so.”

You huffed so hard, so affronted by the response, that it could’ve been mistaken for smoke spilling out of you. “That is some nerve you have, asshole–”

“Hey,” Chris said sternly. “Calm down.”

And you did. God, you hated that you did. Worse yet, you weren’t even sure why you calmed down at all. The energy from your outburst was simply sapped out of you in its entirety.

“Do you want to talk?” Father Chris offered. “It seems you have a lot on your mind.”

Unsure what else to do, you indignantly folded your arms. “Fine. Yes. I’d like to talk.”

He nodded seriously. “Okay, I’ll be more than glad to. I have a meeting about a baptism here in ten minutes, but how about tonight? Somewhere we can have some privacy.”

“Oh? And where’s that?” you impatiently asked. If he suggested the Trawler, you’d scream right there and then.

“I live in Briar Bay for a couple more weeks,” he explained. As if you didn’t already know this. As if he didn’t tell you on Friday night. “How about Reflections? It’s a nice little cafe I like.”

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, unsure. All the energy you originally had to pursue this issue was gone, vanished and leaving a vacuum in its wake that made it difficult to proceed. However, the idea of getting that confession was still too sweet.

“Fine,” you agreed, almost defiant, like you weren’t giving him exactly what he wanted. “Okay.”

╚⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷╝

Not okay. 

The worst part of Briar Bay being a “short” 30-minute drive away meant that every five minutes, you were wondering what the hell you were hoping to achieve. What, Chris would admit what he did and you would be satisfied? You would simply leave? Were you going to turn him in and humiliate him, really punish him for being so terrible? What exactly did you want here?

And still you were thinking about how gorgeous he was in bed. This still weirded you out. You explicitly recalled hardly being able to remember anything during your interview with Sister Judith earlier that week, but days later and now you could perfectly recall the cute way he scrunched his eyes shut when he climaxed? That queasy feeling settled in your gut again. By the time you turned off the small highway into Briar Bay, you almost felt feverish. Nauseous and everything. You were nervous trying to pick out each business. The Trawler passed by on your left down the main road, but finally you caught it. Reflections was apparently a sweet little coffee shop at the end of the main street, the last business next to the main route down to the bay. And out front, sipping from a paper cup in a cardboard sleeve on the patio? 

Father Chris had the audacity to be the picture of serenity. His shitty powder blue truck was parked out front. He was dressed in a casual pair of jeans and a sweater. A ball cap was pushed low over his brow, just like the week before. 

Fucking creep.

You nervously pinched at the hem of your top. In a move of pure desperation to hold any power you had left, you put on the exact outfit you’d been wearing Friday night last week. A crop top of reasonable length, a belted pair of cute jeans, some casual sneakers, and a cardigan because it was getting a bit chilly out. You weren’t totally sure what you were looking to get here, but maybe this would be the element that finally got that look of recollection you were so hungry for.

As you should’ve predicted, he wasn’t even outwardly excited to see you when you approached. Just a glance and a soft smile before he motioned to the chair across from him. You stiffly took a seat, when Chris pointed out toward the cliffs looking over the bay, up the hill from the cafe. “So you’re new, right? You just moved to town?”

He waited patiently until you silently nodded before continuing. “That’s Barrett Bluffs. There used to be a church there until it burnt down a hundred years ago. I just noticed that there’s actually a square patch of dirt up there. Maybe it really did burn down, except the story is it spontaneously combusted. The local kids used to dare each other to look over the edge.”

“Why?” you asked, attempting to remain nonplussed. 

Chris laughed into his drink. “I guess there’s a cave on the cliff face or something. The local legend is that a vengeful spirit lives in it. I dunno. Kids are wild.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, distant while your gaze was still fixed on the square patch of earth at the top of the bluff. “They’re pretty imaginative.”

“What’d you want to talk about?” he suddenly asked. You snapped out of it.

“I just don’t understand why you’re pretending you don’t remember me,” you simply stated.

Chris shrugged helplessly. “Because I don’t? Would you like me to get you something? Their chai here is delicious.”

You felt like your face was about to crack into a thousand tiny pieces. Every single option ran through your mind at once, tripping over each other. Really, you could argue this some more, or just leave it alone… but you did neither of these things. Instead, you got out of your chair and simply walked back up the street. Chris hopped to his feet and jogged after you, finishing his drink in the process and tossing it in a garbage can.

“Where are you going?!” he frantically asked you.

He followed you all the way to the Trawler, where the bartender waved hello to you, driving you even more mad than you already were. You grabbed Chris by the elbow and practically threw him into the chair in the back corner. He watched, bewildered, as you pointed at the bar.

“I was there,” you heatedly explained, “you were here. You bought me a drink and I came over to sit down. You said you liked my perfume and I said I liked your cologne, and we had a great time, and you kissed me in the back parking lot out there in front of your truck before you offered to give me a ride back to your place!”

How you remembered all these finer, non-explicit details, you had no idea, but they were all clear as day all of a sudden. Chris, meanwhile, was beet red in the face. 

“Uh, er,” he floundered. 

And there it was.

That tiny, miniscule little flex of muscles in his face, his eyes widening a millimeter.

A fucking confession of guilt if you ever saw one, you were convinced.

Was this what it was like to go crazy?

Except he doubled down. Chris squared his shoulders and smiled that same humble smile. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I really have no clue what you’re talking about. But for what it’s worth, I’m having a nice time. You pretty much tricked me into a date. Smart play, too, since it’s the only way I can enjoy one.”

One final option lay in front of you, one you were finally angry enough to use it. You bluntly yanked the neckline of your blouse down, exposing that one last hickey, the one that looked more like you were attacked by some animal. Chris’ eyebrows raised in surprise, his focus darting to where the mark was and away. 

“Still insisting I’m crazy? You're a real piece of work, Father,” you scowled. “Hope you're pleased with what you got.”

You let go of your top, grabbed your bag, and stormed out of the bar through the back door, the nearest entrance and into the small parking lot there just so you could get some fresh air. An uncomfortable heat surged up your back and radiated through your chest like a fever. You were nearly on the verge of furious tears. Squeezing between two pickups, you were so distracted that the rearview mirror of one of the vehicles smacked your shoulder. Fuck Chris. You would turn him in, maybe even before mass on Sunday–

Rushed footfalls on the gravel of the parking lot startled you, and you turned with only enough time to gasp when you found Chris there, his hands already cupping your face and pulling you in for a heated kiss. You barely had time to register all of this between the priest panting hot, desperate in your mouth, his cologne and aftershave making your olfactory senses tingle. His lips were still so soft. And then you remembered that this was disgusting.

The force of your slap against Chris’ cheek was more of a shove, getting him the hell off of you. You found yourself leaning back against the bumper of the truck you’d squeezed past, still holding your hand out to keep him back. 

Chris massaged his cheek and jaw where you’d hit him. He was still panting. “I hate this,” he said with a firm shake of his head. He wasn’t even looking at you. “I hate this so fucking much.”

The cursing would’ve surprised you if you weren’t already plagued with memories of him cursing over and over again the previous week.

“What?” you rhetorically asked. “What do you hate, exactly? I thought you didn’t know what I’m talking about.”

“Would you knock it off?” Chris snapped at you. You leaned back against the bumper of the truck, as much as the metal surface would allow. “We both know I’m fucking lying, I’m lying through my goddamn teeth!” he brokenly ranted. “But what I want to know is how the hell do you remember so much?!”

“Am I not supposed to?” you asked, uneasy.

Father Chris shook his head again. “No, because I barely remember anything. All I know is… is–”

“What?” you prodded. You stood up straight and took a tentative step closer. “What is it?”

“I want you, and I fucking hate it,” he spat. “I shouldn’t be tested like this. I don’t deserve this! I’m stronger than this.”

These were more admissions than you were even hoping to achieve. Yes, Chris remembered sleeping together. Yes, Chris was disgusting and immoral, and wanted more.

You didn’t feel triumphant. You didn’t feel victorious.

You felt smug. A craving erupted inside you, swallowing you whole.

You wanted to punish him. You wanted him to live in that fraught feeling of deplorable desire.

“Are you?” you questioned him. A smirk pulled at the corner of your mouth. “Are you stronger than that?”

Chris glared at you, brows furrowed as he digested the fact that you were blatantly mocking him now. It was difficult to assess his next move, but you didn’t have to wait long for another hint, because he simply took that option away and flatly answered you. Chris reached for you again, grabbing at your sleeve and pulling you close so he could kiss you again.

And this time, you let him.

When you weren’t almost gagging on his tongue in your throat, you adored how pissed he looked just kissing you. By now, you were dealing with his hands, too, desperately grabbing and squeezing you. He even began kissing your neck, his teeth grazing over your skin and nipping at you until you pushed him off again. You both caught your breath for a moment, but Chris nonetheless grabbed at your hips again.

“I’m not letting you mark me up again,” you scolded him.

He nodded obediently, despite already kissing your neck some more. “Sorry,” he panted against you, “I just, I need more– We’ll get in my truck, okay? And–”

“What,” you grinned, taking a chance to softly place intermittent kisses of your own on his throat. “You going to be a coward and hide me away at your place again?” From this vantage point, you could see he was wearing a small, golden crucifix just under his sweater. Cute. 

“Don’t want to?” he asked, fumbling in his pockets while he let you kiss him. “That’s fine, it’s dark enough, just in the truck is fine–”

You raised an eyebrow in questioning. “But you parked back at the–”

“What? No,” he interrupted. “It’s right here; come on.”

That made no sense. Chris’ wreck of a truck was back at Reflections–

But the metallic clatter of a keyring stopped your line of thinking in its tracks. Chris backed you up to the passenger side door and unlocked it before he scooped his hands under your ass, eagerly hoisting you up onto the bench seat. He was already working your belt until you grabbed the collar of his sweater and pulled him into the truck with you. You refused to let him lead here. If he was questioning his fortitude, you’d make it exponentially worse. 

Chris wrestled with you a bit to get comfortable in the cab of his truck, ending up sitting in the passenger seat with you straddling his lap. He was incredibly hard between your legs. When you worked your hips down against his, the friction drew the deepest, most regretful moans out of him that you’d ever heard. His strong hands clutched at your hips until you finally unbuckled your belt yourself. He leapt at the opportunity, still kissing your lips, your jaw, your neck, but now his starving touch drifted down from where it’d moved to your breast, down to slip under your panties and between your legs. You gasped and sighed in pleasure, his long fingers rubbing your sensitive clit before dipping into your wetness. 

“Fuck,” Chris gruffly cursed again, “you feel so good.”

“You still hate it?” you teased, almost laughing when he nodded pathetically.

“You’re so bad for me,” he whined. “I just want more.”

You almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

Chris watched in the dim of his truck, only illuminated by a couple security lights behind the old bar as you knelt up so you could shimmy your jeans down, and off one leg. You sat back down on his lap, your damp heat resting back against him but going no further. He looked up at you expectantly.

“Well?” you grinned. “Go on. Make your decision.”

A hesitance sank in between both of you while he considered this, his eyes glazed over and shining. You didn’t blame him. Truth be told, you were surprised with yourself, too. You weren’t typically one for such intensity, but there was something about holding this much control that you were getting satisfaction from in an unexpected way. You scolded yourself for a moment for coming on too strong.

Until Chris warily removed his hat and lifted his sweater off along with his undershirt, revealing his crucifix sitting on his bare collarbones. He set these on the driver seat beside you both, before his hands now wavered at his belt buckle. Father Chris quietly sucked in a breath, as if it were a long, drawn out gasp, astounded at his own actions when he unbuckled his belt and opened his jeans. You could feel the velvety, smooth head of his erection up against you. He paused again.

You pressed your lips to his temple, a tender little reprieve in the middle of this regrettable tryst. “Did you make your decision?”

Chris could be felt nodding before his hands pushed your hips down against his own. You both groaned then, his gorgeous cock slowly stretching you around him. He sucked a breath in between his teeth. “Fuck, baby,” he gritted out. “Feel how you’re opening up for me, it’s so goddamn good–”

You loved the way blasphemy sounded coming from him while you adjusted to him inside you, enough that you immediately took over and began riding him, never giving him a chance to suggest it or try taking the lead. Again, if he was going to decide to be immoral, you were going to really throw that into perspective. 

Chris cried out loud in pleasure when you dropped your hips down onto him and began working his erection into your depths, trying to search out that good angle while the priest was lost in the moment. He was so fucking hot like this, whimpering under you while his thrusts met yours, with no one to blame but himself by this point.

Right?

There was one second where you began to doubt yourself, maybe wondering if you were taking this too far, but Chris interrupted you. Even though you were hellbent on not letting him take control, you couldn’t bring yourself to resist when he grabbed onto your thighs and helped you grind into him instead of riding him, helping you climb that high you were chasing. Worse yet, he pulled down the neckline of your blouse like you’d brazenly done back at the bar, except he went further by pulling your breast to his mouth. His tongue lewdly ran over the bite mark you never managed to get rid of, but he kept his teeth off of you, opting instead to wrap his lips around your hardened nipple, overstimulating you just long enough to coax an orgasm out of you. It hit you hard and suddenly, a sharp gasp punctuating that blissful release as you shuddered around his erection still grinding into you. Chris’ actions got a bit more desperate now, goaded on by how you swept your fingers through his hair before clutching on, reeling his head back onto the back of the bench seat and riding him harder, your rhythm relentless and pushing him closer and closer over the edge.

“It’s good, right?” you sweetly asked. “You gonna cum for me, Chris?”

“Fuck, hold on,” he croaked, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy before you gently pulled his hair again. “Gimme a second, we can’t–” he pleaded, all pouty and doe-eyed, “goddamn, hold on, I can’t–”

╚⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷╝

But he did.

At least, you thought he did.

Because, as if nothing had happened at all, the next thing you knew you were waking up in a bed that wasn’t yours. It was his again. The way you seemed to know this instantaneously didn’t ring as odd to you when it probably should have, but there was far too much to be confused by going on at once. How did you even get here?

You blearily sat up, the crust in your eyes making it even more difficult to see, along with how dark it was. The bed was empty but you knew it was his. You tried to make out the rest of the room, get further confirmation of this fact you already knew, until you found your bag on the floor. Your phone was on the brink of death when you fished it out, but it was still able to report that it was five in the morning. 

The weird thing, at least in your mind, was that you were clothed and alone. You did just fuck Chris in the parking lot behind the Trawler, didn’t you?

… Didn’t you?

It felt like you did. But, even now, fully clothed in this veritable stranger’s bed…

It felt like it’d been a vivid dream. 

You slipped out of the bed, not even covered in a blanket. Your shoes were still on your feet. The room was a bit cold, enough to wake you up a bit faster. Judging by the view out the window, Chris lived in an upper floor unit, likely a private walk-up like many of the old houses in the area seemed to be updated into. This house was old indeed, listening to the creak of the floorboards as you warily walked out of the bedroom and found yourself in a small kitchen. A frayed cord hung from the ceiling. Following it upward, it was attached to an old attic door.

“I wouldn’t pull that if I were you,” came a voice, bringing you back to the oddity at hand. There was Chris, sitting at his tiny kitchen table. He almost looked sick, his cheeks pale. You were certain if you felt his forehead, it’d be clammy. A mug with three tea bag strings hanging out of it was clutched in his hand, shaking the smallest bit for you to see. “The attic door is broken,” he explained, not looking at you. “The super is supposed to take care of it.”

You looked up at the door again. It didn’t appear broken, but you left it alone.

Chris grimaced into his mug. “Did you and I… Did we hook up again?”

You nodded, a gesture you weren’t sure Chris saw but he nodded back nonetheless. 

“I shouldn’t be wanting this,” he frowned. 

You were at a loss of what to say. Instead, you comfortingly ran your fingers through his hair. Truth be told, the fact that neither of you were freaking out over not concretely remembering this was probably the least weird aspect of it all. You both had your own, much bigger concerns.

Chris took a sip of his tea. His hand twitched, making him sloppy. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m better than this. I’m not supposed to want you.”

“I’m sorry,” you weakly attempted.

The young priest raised an eyebrow at you. His eyes were bagged and red, bloodshot like he hadn’t slept in days. “No, you’re not.”

It wasn’t a denial. It was a diagnosis. 

And he was right. 

Chris betraying his vows and giving into you was the most potent adrenaline rush you’d ever experienced. That was the case the first time, and it was the case now. 

And if he didn’t stop you, you’d make his life a living hell until he repented.

[aanoia]

Idk if you have anything like this planned but can you do a Christmas one with like a reader who kinda has a toxic family but always goes home. But this year Remus and her are together and he tells her it’s okay if they don’t go home and they end up having their own cute little Christmas just the two of them or maybe with friends up to you! Thank you 💕💕💕💕

𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒆 - don't need them

Remus Lupin x reader day nine of christmas advent calendar words; 814 warnings; none really uhm I'm really sorry this is out later than usual and it's kinda bad. i'm really really sorry

I stared intently at the empty trunk sitting on the floor in front of my bed. The open latch seemed to mock me, laughing at the fact that I dread simply going to my own home.  I glanced at my bedside table and smiled gently at the picture of Remus and I kissing. I picked up the picture and caressed the glass, the memory replaying through my head. 

A soft knock on the door caught my attention and I wiped the stray tear from my cheek. 

“Come in.” I said and the door opened. “Remus?”

He smiled, “Hey, love.”

“How did you get up here?”

He sighed as he sat next to me on the bed and placed a long kiss on my cheek, “I don’t want to do anything, I just want to be with my girlfriend before we have to part for Christmas.”

I looked to the floor, “Yeah, I guess.”

Remus wrapped his arm around my shoulders, “Hey, are you okay?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know.”

He got on his knees in front of me and grabbed my hands, “Hey, what is it? You can talk to me.”

I avoided eye contact, “I just don’t wanna go home.”

“Do you want to stay here together instead?” He asked, squeezing my hands.

“No, you should go home to your family.”

“Y/n, you are my family. We can stay here together and have our own little Christmas. Sirius and James are staying, too. It can be a friend's Christmas.” Remus suggested and I smiled, another tear falling from my eyes. He softly wiped it off with the pad of his thumb.

“Really?”  I asked.

“Really.”

“Okay, have a safe flight, bud.” I said softly to my owl after tying the letter to its leg. I pet its head gently and it cooed before taking flight. I sighed and made my way down the stairs, ignoring the chill of the snow falling onto my skin. 

I made my way into the Great Hall and paused at the emptiness. I gazed around, the only table completely full being the teachers table. A few small groups of students sat at the tables, but nowhere near 

“Oi! You gonna come over here and eat or just stand there and gawk?” A voice called out and my eyes locked with Sirius’. I rolled my eyes as Remus smacked his arm.

“I will hex you, Black.” I threatened with a smile as I sat across from him.

“You won’t.”

James laughed, “She definitely will.”

“How are you?” Remus asked and I smiled as I grabbed some eggs.

“I’m alright. I just sent a letter to my parents telling them that we wanted to have a friend's Christmas.”

“We should get a tree for the common room.” Sirius said.

“There’s already a tree.” Peter mentioned, looking up from his book. 

“But we can get another one.” James said, nodding to Sirius. 

I laughed, “Okay, you two do that. I need to go Christmas shopping.”

It was dark when my eyes opened Christmas morning. Excitement filled my body and I shook Remus’ body awake. He groaned and threw his arm over his eyes, turning over. I smiled and leaned over to place a kiss on his cheek.

“It’s Christmas.” I whispered and a figure shot up from the bed next to Remus’.

“It’s Christmas!” Sirius yelled and shot out of bed to jump on top of James. 

James groaned and pushed him to the floor, “Sod off, you arse.”

Peter laughed as he slipped on his slippers, “Come on, Santa came.”

“We aren’t five, Wormtail, Santa doesn’t exist.” Remus said as he sat up, his arm wrapped around my waist.

“Who’s Santa?” Sirius asked and I furrowed my brows.

“You don’t know who Santa is?”

“Have you met my parents?”

“Uh, thankfully no.”

“I don’t know who Santa is either.” James said and I sighed.

“Purebloods.” I said, putting on my slippers as Sirius and James ran out of the room. The rest of us followed after them, and I laughed at the happy squeals coming from Sirius and James.

“You guys sound like children.” Remus commented with a smile.

Sirius stuck out his tongue, “We are.”

“Okay, I get to give people their presents.” James said and Sirius scoffed.

“Nuh uh, that’s my job.” 

“No.”

“Mhm.”

“Okay, shut up. I’m doing it.”

I raised my eyebrows, “Wow, Peter. I pick you.”

“Why do you get to pick?” Sirius asked.

I smiled, “Because I’m magical.”

James rolled his eyes, “Technically we’re all magical.”

“You’re just jealous she picked me.” Peter stuck out his tongue.

I sat next to Remus on the couch and smiled as they bickered. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and placed a kiss on my temple.

“Thank you.” I told him and he nodded.

“I love you.”

I cuddled into his side, “I love you.”

my masterlist

If you'd like to be added to my main or christmas taglist comment or DM me!

christmas taglist; @loving-and-dreaming @1lellykins @poetrypirate @ashisabitgay @kodiskisses @whitemanswh0r3 @ultraoreoqueen @miss-mercuryy @peanutbutterinacup @r-scneptune @pheonixfucu @slay345-7 @luannemaru @jluvsjpotts @its-a-ittle-bit-cold @maraudersgirlie @thescarletredwitch @irjdujsksjahhbs @irjdujsksjahhbs @1-800-ididurmum @jennasco @myradiaz @chellyrps @lixiefelicis @ittybittyhogan @lollloki @dreamingofmarauders @everybodyhatesari @agy-mari @wayytoocooll @notaboutlovebyfiona @harrington-potter @little-bubba @mblacksworld @optirizzprime @whoreforlupin @0-cherries-0 @itsjustpoppy-blog @jdoshalablab-blog @mybelovedneilperry @gublers-gf @bellathethirstybitch @poetrynerdsunite @talesof-old

[alexsays-no]

ALEX LOVE YOUR ART AS ALWAYS 💕💕💕

But i was rewatching spiderman no way home and the thought popped into my head. The Spiderboys, james and regulus, do they both have web cartridges or is their webbing natural like Tobey’s spiderman?

JUST A RANDOM THOUGHT I NEEDED ANSWERING LMAO

Uuuuu, good question. I think Reg is a web carrier. He made it himself, and James is a web natural, which Reg finds so odd.

Jahahagafaha I actually want to make a lil extra of this ty for the great question!!!

[writing-for-soup]

gimme a 16, a 20 and a 38 pls!

Answer questions about myself and my writing? Don't mind if I do ✒

16. What is one of your favourite words or phrases to use in writing?

I feel like the real phrases and terms I use again and again must be invisible to me - one of those things that readers probably pick up on but to which I am totally blind. However, when it comes to favourite words or phrases, there are some I find especially tasty or just really relish in using.

I love when something hits 'like buckshot' a lot, that's fun. I also really like it when things get to be 'gunmetal' grey. Seems like weaponry-based linguistic features really appeal to me. Make your writing lethal - why not?

20. What was the last thing you researched for a story?

Pretty sure the last thing I searched for a story was late 19th/early 20th century women's underwear - of all things - because I wanted to get the details right in my recent breakup sex smut for the divine and holy Charles Smith.

Shoutout to this blog post about women's underwear in the 19th century for being informative and very interesting as well! Highly recommend.

38. Pick three of your fics and share a song to go with each

When I tell you this took some sweet fucking time to figure out and go through. I'm not one of those girlies who listens to specific tracks over and over when I'm writing so much of my stuff doesn't have a song automatically allocated to it. This was actually a really fun exercise for me to do because of that so thanks for this specific question lol.

Hunting Grounds - I Put A Spell On You by Nina Simone This is probably the easiest one to do since it's the only time I've written song lyrics into any of my posted fics. I've been obsessed with this song since I was 15, it's so beautiful and sensual and I feel like it perfectly encapuslates the vibes I'm trying to go for with this pairing of V/River in my beloved longfic 💓

Redhead Supernova - Red Wine Supernova by Chappel Roan This is another one that seems like a natural progression because of how the song influenced the fic title. I got into this song pretty early on when it came out so I get to feel like one of those superior people who liked it before it was cool, and vibe-wise it definitely suits this fun Haley/Leah SDV romp 💅

Man About Camp - I Just Want to Make Love to You by Etta James I have a lot of passions in life, including the aforementioned divine and holy Charles Smith. Another such passion is Etta James. She sounds like a wildcat and I'm crazy about her. This song in particular seems like a good fit for this fic, not just for being a brilliant song and encapsulating how I feel about Charles Smith, but also for having a brilliant brassy riff that I can play in my mind over a montage of Charles chopping wood or riding a horse or shooting a gun, which makes it perfect 🥵

ty so much for the ask - this was tons of fun 💕

answering from this post

[kirk-says-wah]

45 + 24 with James/Lars/Cliff?? I have like never saw this pairing but of course I thought it was hot cuz I’m a picky shipper. But could u make it like so Lars gets stuck somewhere and instead of helping him James and Cliff make the most of it?!?!!!

Thank you for the request! I loved writing this trio, I haven’t seen much for this pairing either so it was fun to write 💕

Send me a pairing and a number and I’ll write a little something

24 - Bondage/restraints

45 - Ownership/claiming/marking

James’ back hurts.

Like Jesus fucking Christ it’s killing him, all because he had to sleep on the sofa all night and whose fucking fault is that.

Lars’.

Lars just had to bring a girl home and James got kicked out of their shared room so that he could fuck her. Which, yknow, James has done to him loads. But recently, since Lars started sticking his tongue down his throat and riding his cock after gigs, he thought they were kind of past the point of bringing girls home.

He groans, rubbing at his back as he waits for the coffee to warm up.

“Y’know,” Cliff says from where he’s sitting at the dining table. “It would be so much easier if you just moved into a bigger house.”

James rolls his eyes. “Gee, thanks Cliff, I never thought of that.”

Cliff snickers, goes back to reading his book.

An hour goes by, and James gets a little concerned when Lars doesn’t appear from his room. He’d usually be describing his escapades in more detail than James would’ve liked, so it’s odd that he’s not around.

He says that to Cliff who just shrugs.

“Go and check on him. I think the girl already left.”

James sighs, downing the rest of his coffee before venturing to his room, knocking the door softly.

“Lars?”

There’s silence for a moment, and James frowns. He knocks again, says his name a little louder.

“James?”

Lars’ voice is quiet with an unfamiliarity that makes James’ gut churn.

“Don’t come in.”

“What? Why not?” James asks, seeming it to be a bit ridiculous.

When Lars doesn’t answer, James just opens the door anyways, definitely not expecting to see what he does.

Lars is on the bed, completely naked, and his arms are pulled upwards, handcuffs tying his wrist to the bed frame.

James arches an eyebrow. “Had fun last night?”

“Fuck you,” Lars spits, wrist clanging against the headboard.

“What’s going on?” Comes Cliff’s voice before he’s joining James in the doorway, eyes wide at the sight of Lars on the bed.

“Fucking hell,” he says, stepping forwards.

“Go on. Take a picture for all I care,” Lars says, “just get me the fuck out of these.”

“I don’t think so,” Cliff says, voice calm as he steps forwards.

Lars’ eyebrows shoot into his hairline and even James makes a confused noise, glancing at Cliff.

“I think you look pretty like this,” Cliff says, moving forwards to skate a hand over Lars’ bare thigh.

“Fuck you,” Lars breathes, but there’s no real threat to his words, not when he’s starting to heave, cheeks turning pink as his cock starts to fill out embarrassingly fast.

James knows this game now. He always loves watching Lars squirm.

He walks to Lars’ other side, opposite Cliff, trails his hand over his chest to tweak at his nipple. Lars moans softly, eyes scrunching shut, and James smiles, looking up to meet Cliff’s eyes.

“Are you gonna be a good boy for us?” Cliff says, reaching up to slide his hand just shy of Lars’ cock.

Lars writhes, a thready moan spilling from his lips. When he doesn’t answer, James grabs his chin.

“Answer him,” he says, nails indenting into Lars’ skin, and Lars opens his eyes, wets his lips.

“Yeah,” he breathes, hips squirming as Cliff finally circles his cock.

“Yes, what?” James says, liking the power he has over the younger boy.

Lars flushes, a whine pulled from his throat when Cliff’s hand starts to move, thumbing painfully at the head before pulling down on his foreskin, the sensation making Lars’ head go all fuzzy as his belly goes warm.

It takes him a moment to comprehend what James’ saying, and he looks at him all doe eyed.

“Yes, sir?” he says, breathless, and James thumbs over his bottom lip.

“Good boy,” he says, before leaning down, smothering Lars’ moans with his mouth.

Lars shakes, hips moving under Cliff’s touch, and James laps into his mouth, tasting him, before pulling away, Lars’ bottom lip caught between his teeth.

He draws blood but Lars doesn’t seem to notice, arms trying desperately hard to get out of his restraints, loving the heady mixture of Cliff jacking him off and James’ lips all over him.

James sinks lower, slobbers a kiss under Lars’ jaw before sinking his teeth in, and Lars cries out, hips bucking.

“Stay down,” Cliff grumbles, using his other hand to keep Lars’ pelvis flat as he trails from Lars’ cock down to his balls, playing with them, rubbing them between his fingers.

“Brat,” James mumbles, licking a stripe over the wound he just created.

Words are spilling from Lars’ lips but they’re not English, which James finds is incredibly hot, the metal of the handcuffs jangling against the headboard.

James moves down to be eye level with Cliff, and Cliff must understand what he wants to do before the both of them lean down to lap at Lars’ stiff cock.

Lars cries out at the feeling of his cock being licked by two tongues, hips wriggling, chest heaving, and James smiles, kisses his tip gently.

[zahra-hydris]

CATCH UP ｡*･♡;

tagged by @waterdeep and @galedekarios - ty 💕

LAST SONG: map of the problematique, muse

CURRENTLY WATCHING: nothing, really. though, as I've been sick/stressed, I've been throwing on a comfort show: bob's burgers.

THREE SHIPS: just three? let's go with current ships: gale x violet, heinrix x ammabel, and shadowheart x mirielle.

FAVORITE COLOR: probably pink and red :3

CURRENTLY READING: in between reading for work and reading to bub (and parenting in general, lmao), I rarely get the time, but i'm slowly making my way through moon witch, spider king by marlon james.

CURRENTLY CONSUMING: morning coffee, my beloved.

FIRST SHIP: let's go with balthier x me after I played ffxii as a kid lmao

PLACE OF BIRTH: australia

CURRENT LOCATION: still here (australia)

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: partnered for over a decade now

LAST MOVIE: ready or not, which i'd been meaning to watch forever.

CURRENTLY WORKING ON: a million work things lmao - revisions for an article to be resubmitted, coding transcripts for a research project, writing a new article, drafting my section for a co-authored article (for a special issue i'm co-editing), research assistant work, writing a job application for a lecturer position, and planning my lectures/classes for a class i'm co-teaching. while also looking after a sick baby :):):)

tagging @gautiersylvain, @goodsprings, @irenabean, @ayrennaranaaldmeri, @rosenfey, @avallachs, @cryptcombat, @camelliagwerm, @terendelev, @faerune, @dorianpavus, and @sunites :3

[lynxindisguise]

5 and 27 💕

hello lovely bat!!

5. What’s a fic idea you’ve had that you will never write?

oh there's so many of these... the main one is the atla au with james as aang, remus as katara, peter as toph (sorry toph), sirius as zuko, alphard as iroh, regulus/bellatrix as azula, narcissa as ty lee, andromeda as mai, and ted the cabbage merchant! I had the entire plot mapped out, and it was honestly brilliant, but I just have no motivation to actually write it. it wants to exist as a cartoon/concept in my brain and not an actual fic :(

maybe I'll do an atla-esque universe in the multiverse fic? I'm not sure.

27. Is there a fic you were nervous to post/share? Why?

hmmm I think I was most nervous to post the wolfstar crying during sex fic . I don't write much smut, and I was also experimenting a lot with style and form, so it was definitely a bit outside my comfort zone. it's still the one I feel most *sensitive* about if that makes sense.

fic writer asks

[lifeisabitch-butimcute]

hi luci! trick or treat! 🎃

hiiii mil!! ty for stopping in 💕 here is a seasonal snippet from the chapter in progress for my absurdly long rosekiller fic, now featuring the group chat from hell:

Sirius: speaking of which

Sirius: party planning hats on

Evan: Wait, what

Reggie: I just watched James mime putting on an invisible hat

Evan: Barty, how do I leave a group chat?

Sirius: GOOD MAN JAMIE

Sirius: evan since you apparently weren’t aware

Sirius: we’re planning our annual halloween party

Sirius: now aided by additional great minds 

Evan: I don't like parties. 

Barty: not the point, Rosie

Barty: you’re not getting out of this one

Remus: give in, Evan. It’s easier.

[rollercoasterwords]

HE FORGOT ALL THE WAY BACK TO NOVEMBER HE FORGET EVERYTHING HE FORGOT REMUS FOR REMUS I CANT DO THIS ANYMORE

side note: the writing this chapter 👌🏽

james is really going through it :(

yeah 😁😁😁 no memory of remus now 😁😁😁 and ty glad u enjoyed 💕 james is in fact going thru it….as are they all…

[dreamofmysoul-tsc]

TSC characters as Taylor Swift songs because I’m rereading City of Bones and feeling nostalgic:

TMI

Clary: Fearless

Jace: Don’t Blame Me

Izzy: Style

Alec: couldn’t decide between The Archer (obv) and Delicate

Simon: Nothing New

Magnus: Long Live

Raphael: epiphany

Lily: I Think He Knows

Sebastian: Better Man (this was hard but i went with this song because i always think of Sebastian as what he could've been instead of what he was)

TID

Tessa: Sweet Nothing or Last Kiss

Will: State of Grace

Jem: Forever Winter

Cecily: Hey Stephen

Gabriel: Daylight

Sophie: You Are In Love

Gideon: Untouchable

Henry: Paper Rings

Charlotte: Treacherous

Jessamine: hoax

TDA

Emma: So It Goes

Julian: Run

Kit: Innocent

Ty: Come Back…Be Here

Livvy: Bigger Than the Whole Sky

Cristina: Maroon

Mark: Today Was A Fairytale

Kieran: ivy

Helen: long story short

Aline: Dancing With Our Hands Tied

Dru: Out of the Woods

Diana: Wildest Dreams

Ash: You're On Your Own, Kid

Jaime: Midnight Rain

Diego: closure

TLH

James: betty

Cordelia: cardigan and champagne problems

Matthew: august or Anti-Hero

Jesse: the lakes

Lucie: Enchanted

Christopher: Everything Has Changed

Thomas: Paris

Alastair: All Too Well (pre-Thomas), Begin Again (post-Thomas)

Ari: Breathe

Anna: The Great War

Grace: The Lucky One

Eugenia: You Need To Calm Down

Tatiana: mad woman

Short Story Characters/Misc.

Robert: Haunted

Michael: Sad Beautiful Tragic

Jocelyn: tolerate it

Luke: Mary's Song

Amatis: This Love

Catarina: it's time to go

Hypatia: Bejeweled

Ragnor: cowboy like me

Maryse: We Were Happy

Valentine: This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

Celine: illicit affairs

Stephen: Mr. Perfectly Fine

Rosemary: Never Grow Up

*i didn't include the little ones because we don't know much of their personalities yet! but i still adore them 💕

[nahoyasboyfriend]

Could you tell me more🥺👈👉

The wound fucking is because I keep thinking about touching his neck wound. What it feels like around your fingers gently tracing torn muscles. I want to stick my fingers down into it and feel him swallow around them. Ask him what exactly it feels like. i want to finger his slit throat. I also want him to cut me and fuck the wound but that's neither here nor there

James would be a great rigger, but James in bondage. I’m swooning. Red rope against pale skin, tying it tighter than need be to see the skin flush pink. He'd be so pretty 💕 💕

Tummy punching is literally always on the brain, and it's usually Kai because why not! I need him to kick me in the stomach with his bulky boots. But flogging fits James to me, you're tied up & helpless. he's dragging it against your skin. It leaves bright red marks when he strikes you. Some hits make blood bead to the surface. 😵‍💫

Suffocation was because I’ve been thinking about someone holding a bag over someone's head (could be James or you doesn't matter) the plastic fogging up & sticking to their face while they gasp for air.