writer + fool

sideblog for stories on ao3

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wolfstar:

Full Throttle - WIP, 17/35 chapters

A Top Gear AU in which Remus is a disaster from the off, Sirius unravels at the seams, James grows a frontal lobe, and Lily has a secret. Throughout, there will be cars, catastrophes, and caravan conkers. And in the end, maybe- just maybe- they'll find something worth all of this bollocks. x Spotify playlist here

Asterisms - 11k, 3/3, Complete

Sirius is a geologist at the Natural History Museum in London, and one day in late December, a boy called Teddy loses his toy in the dinosaur exhibit.

formula 1 rpf (lestappen):

a study in respiration - 7k, 1/1, Complete

Sometimes you find your breath in someone else’s lungs, someone else’s mouth. As if, for the entire time you have been on Earth together you have harboured the same air, the same fire. You are each the shoaling sand, the spaces between grains, the tarmac below, a turn well met. You are each the victory.

older fics below the cut:

what a beautiful choice!!

you are my medicine// when you're close to me.....very FT wolfstar ♥️

Full Throttle

Wolfstar Top Gear AU

16. Freefall

“Hold there, this is good. Tighten Camera Two on the Tweedles. Switch between wide on One, Frank.” Mutilated by Remus’s child army, gluey glitter is smeared across the Astra’s cracked windscreen, dazzling in the winter sun. Spaghetti drips from wing mirrors like carrion, and one of said mirrors has been pulled out, as if from the root. The doors and their handles are choked with a mix of white flour and soggy egg and green slime, clumps of shell rolling down the side. Rising out of the sunroof is Remus, waving neatly with his wrists like the old Queen. Behind the car trails a swarm of schoolchildren, uniforms besmirched by indiscriminate foodstuffs, and arranged like they’ve just left the island from Lord of the Flies. Some have streaks of green over their cheeks like camouflage. Two of the tallest pupils hold the windscreen wipers like spears— and a couple others skip, banging empty glitter tubs with wooden spoons. Baking in the surprisingly strong early winter sunlight and the radiated heat from the runway tarmac, it reeks. Sirius, shaking his hair out of his face to compose himself, all-too-aware of being filmed, slow claps, impressed. “Professor Lupin,” he smirks.