first off all GURL YOUR WRITING IS LITERALLY TOP TIER I CANNOT WITH IT—
and second, i saw you had your requests open and while i’ve never done this before i really, really would love it if you could write a poly!wolfstar with reader coming from a pretty similar family background as sirius and gets triggered by loud noises and remus is in a bad headspace because it’s just a few days before full moon and he accidently yells at her and reader just shuts down and tries to brush it off because she thinks she’s being dramatic and tries to act unruffled but sirius sees through it and overall just hurt/comfort, pretty please? ILY
Awe thank you lovely! For both the sweetness and the request <3
cw: migraine, reader panics because of shouting/aggression
poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words
Remus has told you to leave him alone more than once. You know that you should, that you really ought to make yourself scarce because these moods before the full moon almost never yield good things. The issue is that you care about Remus more than consequences, and as a result you’re not very good at doing what you should.
“Hey,” you say gently, when he passes you by on his way back to his desk with another cup of tea. “That’s too much caffeine, lovely. You’ll make your headache worse.”
“It’ll be fine,” Remus grunts. He continues on his way, and, despite Sirius’ look, despite knowing better yourself, you give chase.
“You’ll regret it if you have another,” you reason, following him to his work-cluttered desk, which has been shoved temporarily into the darkest corner of your bedroom. “I know some caffeine helps, but too much—”
“I know how it works.” Remus’ voice is low. Low, but not thin. He doesn’t look at you as he sits down. “I need it, alright?”
You take a breath. Yes, you can see how you explaining Remus’ own migraines to him might not be well received. But it’s not easy to watch your boyfriend act against his own self-interest.
Remus has described the feelings leading up to a full moon to you before. He said it feels like something sizzling under his skin, or crackling. It’s not entirely pleasant, but it gives him more energy than he ever has otherwise. Makes him restless, productive, lively. Eventually, though, that energy builds into something he can barely tolerate—that’s when the migraines usually start. Remus gets irritable, his joints ache, it’s like his body is trying to hold something no human can, waiting for the full moon and the chance for Remus’ not-human body to expel it all.
When you think about how much energy he’s storing, that electric sizzle under his skin, caffeine hardly seems necessary. Until you take into account that Remus has hardly slept for the past three nights. Then you wonder if perhaps his brain can no longer keep up with the tireless dynamism of the rest of him.
“Maybe you should rest for a while instead,” you try.
“I have work to do.”
“It’ll still be there after a nap.”
“And I suppose I may as well just wait until after the full, then, yeah?”
“I mean, maybe.” You pick up on Remus’ sarcasm, but you don’t disagree. “You can’t be expected to just power through when you’re having such a hard time.”
“Really?” There’s bite in your boyfriend’s voice now. Enough that you retract the hand you were about to set on his shoulder. “I can’t be expected to? That’s exactly what’s expected of me. I don’t just get a week off every month.”
You push out a frustrated breath. “I know, and that’s not fair—”
“None of this is fair.” Remus turns in his seat, glowering with such virulence it shocks you despite the argument you’d thought you were prepared for. “There aren’t allowances made for lycanthropy. If I told my boss that I need a lighter workload and he made the connection, he could report me to the ministry. I can’t afford to complain about how my head hurts or indulge in naps and breaks when everyone else keeps working.”
His voice rises, and he’s suddenly taller than you, looking down on you. He stood up. Your ears are ringing.
“If everyone else is able to handle their workload during the full, I have to, too. Do you understand that?”
You find you can’t speak. There’s a horrible ache sitting in the base of your throat which won’t let anything out. You nod.
“Do you?” Remus seems exasperated. Baffled by your naïveté. “I don’t want to be told that I shouldn’t be working. I don’t want to be told that I can’t have caffeine to get through it, because I know what I have to do, and that’s not something you can understand. Alright?”
“Alright,” you choke out.
“Do you get that?”
“Yes.”
“Remus,” says another voice. You don’t turn, but you don’t need to; Sirius always follows the sound of shouting. It’s habit for him. “That’s enough, love.”
“I was done,” Remus snaps.
Sirius’ hand wraps around your elbow. You jolt slightly before even really registering the touch. His fingers feel cool, or maybe you’re only hot. You feel very, very hot.
“Hey,” he prompts softly. Now you look at him. Sirius’ expression is all tenderness, and it feels like whiplash. “You okay?”
You dismiss the question with a shake of your head. Your ears are still ringing. “Yeah.”
You look back to Remus. You can’t help it. You want to fix, and to leave, and to dissolve. But Remus is the epicenter of everything, and you feel as though taking your eyes off him even temporarily is a danger.
“Let’s be done squabbling for now,” Sirius says, his voice unnaturally light. “We’ve all said our piece, yeah?” He gives your arm a gentle tug, and you take a step back. You’d been nearly right up against Remus, you realize. Frozen to the spot where you’d gone to rest your hand on his shoulder. Sirius runs his thumb over your skin before asking again, “Are you okay?”
Tears invade your eyes without warning. Your face burns, and you feel it screw up in an attempt to keep them from falling. “Yeah,” you say unsteadily. “I’m just—so—sorry.”
Two things happen seemingly at once: your voice fractures, and Sirius crushes you to him.
Remus exhales. You hear the creak of his chair taking his weight again. “Shit.”
“Shh, I know,” Sirius murmurs, petting your head while your tears spill over to wet his jumper—Remus’ jumper, which smells like both of them and probably also you. “I know, baby, it’s okay. You’re safe here.”
“I’m sorry,” Remus says. His voice sounds muffled, as though he’s speaking into his hands.
“No, it’s—I’m sorry.” You sniff, trying to wipe under your eyes. Sirius keeps you held to his front. “It’s not your fault.”
“It is my fault.”
“I believe I said we were done with the squabbling.” Sirius kisses your head firmly. “What do you need, sweetness? Some quiet? Time to breathe?”
“I’m okay. Really, I’m fine.” You give Sirius a grateful squeeze before letting him go. He lets you, but watches you concernedly as you swipe a knuckle underneath your eyes. The ringing in your ears has faded to near nothing, aftershocks trembling through your fingers in its wake. “I’m fine. I just—needed a second. Sorry.”
Sirius makes a quiet sound. “Stop that. You don’t have to be sorry.”
Remus nods his agreement. His head is in his hands, you can see now, but he lifts it up to look you in the eyes. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you.”
You shake your head. “You were right. I was insensitive. And I don’t know why I reacted like that, I’m just being dramatic.”
“Oi,” Sirius cuts in sternly, though half as stern as he’d usually be even to tease you. “I’m dramatic. Get your own personality.”
That gets your lips to twitch a little. You watch as Remus sends him one of his fond, exasperated looks.
“You weren’t being dramatic,” Remus says to you. “I shouted at you. However angry I was, that’s not alright. I’m sorry I scared you.”
“You didn’t scare me.” Your eyes are beginning to burn again. You try to blink through it. “It was just—it was—”
“I understand,” he says, softly. His expression is still taut with pain, but some of the harsher lines have melted away. “I’m sorry anyway. Do you want to come here?”
Sirius hums satisfiedly when you go sit across Remus’ lap and wrap your arms around his shoulders. He draws his hand up and down your back slowly, with enough pressure to ease away any lingering tension coiled around your spine. You breathe out. Sirius doesn’t hold out long before he’s there too, curled around the two of you and squeezing heartily.
“You two aren’t allowed to fight,” he mutters, kissing your head and Remus’ in turn. “In order for me to be petty and vain, I need you to be the sensible ones, understand? This is a delicate ecosystem.”
“I don’t know,” you hum. “I think Remus should get breaks some way or another around the full moon. Can’t you take a sensible shift once a month?”
Sirius lets out a sigh like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, but you hear the gentle sound of him pressing another kiss to Remus’ head. “Suppose so. Only once a month, though.”
Haiiiii! Could you maybe do a wolfstar x reader where she's regulus's best friend so she's always snarky with Sirius and Remus is the middle man, but eventually they end up falling for each other. Like I'm imagining
"omg hi Remus, how's your morning?...... Sirius 🙄"
pairing: poly!wolfstar x reader (pre-relationship)
summary: request above!
word count: 1.6k
warnings: mentions of abuse and sirius leaving regulus, black brothers angst and reader’s loyalty is to regulus, not proofread or edited (pls lmk if you see any mistakes!)
author’s note: hi lovely! thank you so much for this request, i’m sorry it took so long to get out but i hope you like this!! i loved writing this!!
“I just don’t understand what I did to make her hate me so much!” Sirius whines, head thrown back onto the arm rest of the couch as he sprawls his lower half over Remus.
The Gryffindor common room is alight with music and laughter yet somehow still maintains its aura of homeliness.
“We’ve had this conversation on a multitude of occasions, surely you’ve grown tired of it by now.” Remus’ bored tone grates Sirius’ ears.
It’s not that Sirius can’t get over this, it’s just that—well it doesn’t make sense!
Sure Sirius is related to Regulus—your best friend, but they’re two completely separate people!
Everyone by now was well aware and had made their peace with Sirius running away from home but apparently you still held your grudge about Sirius’ momentary lapse of judgement in leaving his brother behind.
Did he regret it? Yes. Has he made that abundantly clear and obvious to both yourself and Regulus?…somewhat.
He’s been clear in his intentions to mend his relationship with his brother, that’s for sure.
He thought the other part was an assumed part of the making amends project.
Obviously not, considering you’ve been treating Sirius like an unwanted fungus you couldn’t seem to avoid no matter how hard you tried.
“Moony, this isn’t something you just get over! She hates me! She loves you, but she hates me! Hello! Me! Sirius Black! Nobody hates me!” Sirius screeches and hears multiple people groan as he leaps from the couch to pace the length of the carpet.
“I’d beg to differ.” Remus mutters, sighing and closing his book as he pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Sirius you have got to let this go.” Remus implores his boyfriend, grimacing when Sirius spins sharply around to point in Remus’ face.
“You’re just saying that because she likes you!” He criticizes.
Remus sighs louder, looking deeply put upon.
“You can’t expect her to all of a sudden be your biggest fan Sirius.”
Sirius looks dumbfounded, as if he’s never been told that before.
Remus wants to bite his own arm off.
“Spoiled prick.” Remus mutters under his breath before rolling his eyes fondly.
“You haven’t even gotten more than a sentence out of Regulus since you started trying to get back into his good books. You think the entire time you two spent not talking—that Regulus wouldn’t confide in his best friend? Sirius she sees you as the one person she thought she could trust not to hurt Regulus.” Remus explains as Sirius deflates, slumping into the couch with a grumpy expression.
“Well that’s just not fair, what was I supposed to do? Stay in that house?” Sirius scoffs.
Remus softens, “she doesn’t know how hard it was for you to leave Sirius, Regulus is her priority.”
“—The same way you’re mine.” He murmurs.
Sirius melts into Remus’ side, humming as the scarred boy rubs his hand over his side in comfort.
“You know…” Remus starts hesitantly. “If it’s really too much for her to be here, I’ll tell her to come over another time.”
Sirius is shaking his head before Remus can finish.
“It’s okay.” He says quickly. “Honest” He tacks on at Remus’ suspicious expression.
Remus just sighs, nodding and pressing a quick kiss to Sirius forehead before going back to his novel.
“Don’t pick a fight with her when she comes over.” Remus says, not looking away from the yellowed pages in front of him.
Sirius squawks indignantly, “I do not—!”
You choose that moment to walk through the entrance of the common room, a warm smile on your face and Sirius’ argument grinds to a halt.
“Hi Remus!” You greet happily, smiling softly and leaning down to meet him halfway in a hug before detaching.
Your smile drops off your face when you catch sight of Sirius’ hopeful expression.
“Sirius.” You state blankly, no emotion and your face and Sirius resists the urge to stomp his foot like a toddler.
“Y/N! Hi!” He greets strainedly, sitting up and trying to fix his clothes despite them being fine.
“What—What brings you here?” He laughs nervously.
You give him a weird look.
“Remus invited me to talk about the novel he leant me.” You say slowly as if explaining a basic concept to a toddler.
You turn to Remus with pursed lips but a glint in your eye, “Is he okay?” You ask.
“I’m sitting right here!” Sirius says defensively.
“Forgive me Black but I didn’t realise our distant acquaintanceship had suddenly evolved into more without my knowledge” You respond disinterestedly, not looking his way as you reach into your bag to grasp a familiar novel with a weathered appearance, clearly well loved.
Sirius bites his tongue, turning to look at Remus desperately and cocking his head at you to silently signal him ‘Help me! I’m crashing and burning here!’
Remus widens his eyes, shaking his head emphatically, ‘No, you got yourself here.’
Sirius pouts, pleading with Remus to help.
Remus rolls his eyes and clears his throat, peering at you nervously, “What Sirius meant to say was,” He coughs. “Uh that he is glad you decided to come today!” He adds, laughing in fake enthusiasm.
You raise an eyebrow, “Was he?” You ask faux-innocently as you turn to look at Sirius with a glance as if to say, ‘go on’.
He gulps, “Uh yeah—I uh! I wanted to say that…the book you guys are reading is great!” He blurts out, wincing and cursing inwardly at his blunder.
You look like you want to laugh and Sirius would rather be cursed by his mother again.
“You’ve read Catcher in the Rye?” You ask dubiously and watch as Sirius nods so emphatically you worry for a second his head might detach from his body.
“Loved it!” He says, giving you a strained smile.
“…Right.” You eye him suspiciously. “Did you have a favourite character?” You ask, biting back a laugh as you watch him flounder for a response.
“…The main one?” He weakly responds.
You nod, rolling your eyes and snapping your book closed as you stand up, gathering your belongings as you go.
“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing here Sirius but if you’re just here to take the piss out of me, I’d rather not be here for the punchline.” You scoff, zipping up your bag before throwing it over your soldier.
Sirius squeaks when Remus hits him with his novel, already pushing himself out of his seat to stop you from leaving.
“Y/N, don’t go. It’s my fault, I told Sirius he could stay while we—“
You laugh without humor, “Alright so you were in on it then? My mistake, I’d thought we’d actually been getting along—“
“That’s not what I meant!—“
“Right because all of a sudden you’d be interested in what Regulus’ friend is up to huh? Should’ve known—“
“You know that’s not what we think of you—!”
“Enough!” Sirius barks and both you and Remus pause.
You’re both breathing hard, you have one arm holding your bag on your soldier while trying to tug the other out of Remus’ grip.
“Look,” Sirius starts weakly and you scoff, pulling your arm out of Remus’ grasp who lets you go with a wounded expression.
“Just let me explain okay?” The black haired boy rushes out.
You frown but nod in acquiescence.
“You don’t like me,” he starts and you shrug, unapologetic.
“Which okay—I’m a bit of a dickhead but you haven’t even given me the chance to get to know you!”
You squint at him, “Get to know me? Sirius I was the one holding Regulus together the night you left. He ran to my house after you left, did you know that? Did you even care to know where your brother was living after you left him in that god awful house?” You laugh mockingly and Sirius winces.
“That’s not fair Y/N. He had to leave.” Remus whispers softly and Sirius is ever thankful for his boyfriend.
He’s surprised to see you nodding in agreement though.
“Of course, but he didn’t ask Regulus to go with, despite him promising time and time again to keep him safe, that they’d leave together. So Sirius had every right to leave that house, but so did Regulus. It’s not my fault Regulus came to me in the end and I won’t apologise for having his back when the one person who was supposed to, didn’t have it when it counted.” You say
“You want to get to know me Sirius?” You ask seriously.
Sirius is hesitant but truthful when he nods.
“Then fix what you broke. You earn back Regulus’ trust, you earn mine. I’m not here to be on your side, Lupin has that covered. I’m on Regulus’ side and if he decides he wants you back in his life then I’ll let you get to know me.” You say softly.
Sirius looks hopeful and Remus smiles at you with a soft look in his eyes.
“Until then, maybe pick up some reading material that isn’t Witches weekly” you say cheerily, walking away.
Sirius makes a strangled sound, “How’d you know about that?!” He yells across the common room.
“I didn’t!” You yell back, “You just confirmed it for me!”
Your laughter cuts off when the common room entrance closes.
“I think that went well.” Remus hums.
Sirius’ head snaps to his with a scandalized expression.
“Well?! WELL?! Remus you can’t possibly—!”
Remus’ lips quirk in a smirk that he tries to muffle.
“—you’re taking the piss. Right okay, yeah—make fun of my downfall that’s fine. It’s not like I’m your boyfriend or something.”
Sirius’ mutters only has Remus snorting as he bursts into a fit of giggles.
hii,, i've always been a silent reader on your page and love your work! <3 I noticed your requests are open so id like to try (it's my first time requesting ever sorry if its wrong)
I read your fabulous piece We Heal At Last and was wondering if you'd be open to the topic of the marauders (any ship you prefer) helping a reader with dissociative disorder? I've dealt with this for a long time and it's really scary for when it happens when i'm overstimulated pr in public I mean I couldn't help but feel safe in that part where Remus is trying to bring back the reader.
Please do consider only if you're comfortable with the topic! Feel free to delete this one love you 🫶
The Names Of Real Things
poly!wolfstar x fem!reader
synopsis: after a Quidditch accident leaves you spiraling into dissociation, Sirius and Remus ground you back to reality with unwavering love and gentle patience. together, you learn that even when the world slips away, love remains the one constant that is always real.
warnings: dissociation, panic attack, breakdowns, injury, fear, mention of hallucination, anxiety, and intrusive thoughts
w/c: 3.6k
a/n: i did lots of research and tried to do this justice, i am so so sorry if this is inaccurate or bad </3 also thank u for being incredibly kind dear anon, i love taking all sorts of requests :D
masterlist
The Quidditch stands thrummed with restless energy, scarlet and gold flags snapping like whips in the wind. Cheers rose and fell in waves, crashing against your senses with a force that felt almost physical.
You were seated beside Remus, perched high in the bleachers, but the noise pressed against you like a living thing—coiling around your ribs, squeezing the breath from your lungs.
Shouts, whistles, the crack of bats against Bludgers—it all swirled together into something primal and unrelenting, a roar that dug its claws deep into your skin, refusing to let go.
You rubbed your palms against your thighs, fingers pressing hard enough to sting, but the roughness of the fabric only made it worse. It scraped and scratched, every sensation sharpening instead of grounding, setting your nerves alight with sparks of discomfort.
Your breathing was uneven, skittering in your chest like something cornered, too shallow to fill your lungs properly.
You couldn’t shake the weight that had been sitting heavy in your chest since you’d woken up that morning—a thick, suffocating thing that you couldn’t name but felt in every part of you.
The noise blurred and stretched, voices distorting, folding over each other until they were nothing but echoes of echoes.
Remus must have noticed the tension in your shoulders because his hand found yours, warm and steady against your palm. His voice slipped through the haze, low and gentle. “You alright, love?”
You nodded too quickly, the motion jerky and disconnected. “Yeah. Fine.” The lie slipped from your tongue with practiced ease, smooth and effortless.
His eyes lingered on you, quiet and observant, as if he were peeling back the layers of you without ever touching them.
He squeezed your hand, his thumb tracing soft circles against your knuckles. “We don’t have to stay, you know,” he murmured, voice wrapped in that gentle warmth only he seemed to possess. "I mean it. We could leave right now. Sneak down to the lake, sit under the beech tree where it's quiet. I’ll even let you steal my scarf again."
A flicker of something close to a smile ghosted over your lips, too fragile to hold. His eyes softened, the corners crinkling just a little. "I just... I want you to be alright," he said, softer now, as if the words might shatter if spoken too loud. "You don’t have to pretend with me. Not ever."
The words hung between you, a lifeline stretched thin, and for a moment you almost reached for it. But the noise was still there, pressing in, crushing the breath out of you, and you nodded again instead, staring out over the pitch as if the sight of it would steady the ground beneath your feet.
You opened your mouth to answer, but the team shot out onto the field in a blur of crimson, and the stadium erupted.
Your gaze snapped to Sirius, hair wild and eyes alight with thrill as he circled the pitch, one hand raised to acknowledge the cheers.
He always looked so free up there, like the world couldn’t touch him, like gravity itself bent around his joy.
For a moment, the tension ebbed, your gaze tracking his movements as if they were the only solid thing in the chaos.
He looped through the air, effortless and unbound, and you found yourself breathing a little deeper, drawn into the rhythm of his flight. But it came back sharper, twisting under your ribs, a whisper of unease that wouldn’t shake loose, a tension that coiled tighter the longer you watched.
It happened too fast.
One minute, Sirius was diving for the Quaffle, his laugh audible even from your seat. The next, a Bludger came screaming from his blind side, iron gleaming like a curse cast in motion.
It slammed into his broom with a sickening crack that rippled across the stadium like a shockwave. He spun out of control, spiraling downward in a blur of red and black, limbs flung wide, momentum snatched from him in an instant.
The world went silent. The stadium roared around you, but you couldn’t hear it.
Everything dulled and pulled away, the edges of your vision fraying until all that remained was the distant figure tumbling through the sky. Madam Hooch’s whistle pierced the air, sharp and shrill, but it felt like it came from somewhere else, another reality.
Remus was on his feet before you even realized, his hand slipping from yours, his voice muffled and far away.
Everything slowed, colors bleeding out of the world, replaced with muted shades of grey and the hollow echo of your heartbeat.
You couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. All you could do was watch him fall.
“Stay here. I’ll go check on him,” Remus said firmly, squeezing your hand before disappearing down the stairs two at a time.
Stay here. You tried, you really did, but your heartbeat was a drumline in your ears, deafening and unsteady.
People were moving, voices overlapping, and you couldn’t see Sirius anymore. You stood, legs unsteady, forcing your way down the bleachers despite the throngs of students pressing past you.
By the time you reached the edge of the pitch, they were carrying him toward the castle, his arm slung over James’s shoulder, head lolling forward.
He was conscious, you could see his mouth moving, could hear faint protests about “just a scratch,” but you weren’t convinced.
You moved to follow, only to be met with a firm hand against your shoulder. Madam Pomfrey, stern and unyielding. “No visitors until I’ve checked him over.”
“I just need to.”
“No exceptions. He’ll be fine, but I need space to work.” Her voice was gentle but immovable.
The world started to tilt, sounds warping and stretching like you were underwater. You took a step back, the castle’s stone walls too close, the voices around you too loud, too many, too much.
You turned on your heel and walked, pushing past students who threw you odd glances.
Your footsteps were unsteady, quickening as the pressure in your chest built and built until you were practically running, feet carrying you somewhere, anywhere.
You found an empty classroom on the third floor, dusty and forgotten, and collapsed against the wall, knees pulled to your chest.
The room was dead silent, but your ears still rang with the crowd’s cheers, with the sound of Sirius’s broom cracking against the Bludger.
You blinked, and the world fractured. Your breathing came in short, uneven bursts, the edges of your vision blurring as if you were watching from somewhere far away.
Your hands shook, fingertips brushing against the cold stone floor, but it didn’t feel real.
The room was still and heavy, dust motes swirling in the thin bands of light that slipped through the cracked shutters. It smelled like old parchment and forgotten memories, thick with the silence of something left behind.
You sank to the floor, your back against the cold stone wall, knees pulled tight to your chest. The stone bit into your skin, rough and unyielding, but you barely felt it.
Your hands were trembling, fingers flexing and curling against your legs as if searching for something to hold onto. But there was nothing.
There was only the emptiness, stretching wide and hollow, echoing with whispers you couldn’t quite hear. You tried to breathe, to count each inhale like you were taught, but the air felt too thin, slipping out of your lungs before you could hold it.
Everything felt too far away. The walls stretched back, the light faded, your heartbeat slowed to a dull, distant thud. You pressed your hands harder against your knees, nails digging into the fabric of your robes, but the pressure felt muted, like you were underwater.
You blinked once, twice, and the edges of your vision wavered. The room seemed to fold in on itself, colors bleeding out until all that was left was gray.
Your hands moved in front of your face, but they didn’t feel like yours. They were pale and shaking, fingers stretching and curling, curling and stretching, and you couldn’t make them stop.
It was like falling. Slow and inevitable, like slipping backward into a place you couldn’t name. The sound of your heartbeat faded, replaced by a low hum, steady and unyielding, vibrating beneath your skin.
It was too loud and too soft all at once, pulsing against your ears until it was the only thing left.
Your name drifted through the haze, muffled and distant. You blinked, but the world remained blurred, edges smudged and colors bleeding together like spilled ink.
You couldn’t move. Or maybe you didn’t want to. Maybe it was easier to stay here, where everything was soft and distant, where nothing could touch you.
Time slipped away. Minutes, maybe hours—you couldn’t tell. There was only the stillness, the heavy weight of nothingness pressing down on you.
Your thoughts drifted, scattered and broken, memories flashing like splinters of glass. Sirius falling from his broom. The crack of wood against Bludger. His head slumped forward, hair tangled and wild. The way his hand dangled, limp and unmoving.
But then there was the flicker of doubt, curling slow and insidious, whispering that maybe it had never happened at all. Maybe you had imagined it.
Maybe you were still in the stands, still watching the game, still breathing. Your fingers dug harder into your knees, searching for sensation, for proof that this was real.
But everything felt distant, blunted, like you were touching the world through layers of fog. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the noise to stop, willing the room to settle back into something solid.
But it didn’t. The memory twisted, faded, came back sharper. Sirius’s body dangling. Or maybe not. Maybe he had only stumbled. Maybe he had gotten back up, dusted himself off, and you had just missed it. You couldn’t know.
The image replayed, fractured and incomplete, and you were caught in its web, straining to hold on to something real. But reality slipped through your fingers like sand, scattering before you could grasp it.
Your breath hitched, and the room rippled, lines blurring and stretching. You closed your eyes, but the image burned there, seared into the darkness. You tried to push it away, but it lingered, the crack of impact echoing in your ears, too loud, too sharp.
Something wet slipped down your cheek, and you flinched, the sensation foreign and strange. Your hand reached up, slow and unsteady, brushing against your cheek. Dampness clung to your fingertips. Tears.
You stared at them, uncomprehending, watching the droplets tremble against your skin.
They didn’t feel real. None of it did.
You blinked again, the room shifting back into focus for a moment before fading away. Your chest ached, hollow and splintered, and you tried to breathe, but it came out shaky, uneven.
The walls stretched back further, distant and unreachable, and the floor felt like it was slipping away beneath you.
You were floating. No ground beneath your feet, no air in your lungs, just empty space stretching out forever.
You wondered if you would stay here, suspended in the quiet, untouched and unseen.
You wondered if it would matter.
Your hands curled into fists, nails biting into your palms, but it was distant, a whisper of sensation that barely registered. The world around you continued to drift, colors fading to gray, shapes blurring and stretching until there was nothing left but shadows.
You tried to remember how to breathe, but the air wouldn’t come.
Reality flickered, blinking in and out like the light of a dying star. You could feel it slipping, cracking at the edges. Your breath came in ragged gasps, shallow and sharp, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.
Your hands clawed at the floor, fingertips scraping against stone, but it may as well have been air. You were weightless, bodiless, scattered in a thousand pieces. And you didn’t know how to come back.
But then there was something. Gentle and warm, fingertips brushing against your cheeks, pressing against the fog.
A voice, steady and soft, filtering through the haze like sunlight breaking through clouds. "Come back to me, baby. I got you. I've always got you."
You didn’t open your eyes. You couldn’t. But the touch remained, grounding and tender, and you felt yourself leaning into it, the warmth seeping back into your bones.
The sensation shifted, and suddenly you were being moved, lifted with such care it nearly broke something in you. You were settled into someone’s lap, arms strong and familiar wrapping around you.
A kiss brushed against the top of your head, soft and patient. "See? Feel that? I’m right here," Sirius murmured, his voice like a tether in the storm.
He pressed your hand to his chest, the beat of his heart steady and strong beneath your palm. "Feel my heart, darlin'. Feel that? It’s still beating for you."
His heartbeat thrummed against your fingertips, real and alive, and you clung to it like a lifeline..
The air around you was thick with the scent of him — faint smoke and leather, a grounding balm against the fog swirling in your mind.
Somewhere nearby, Remus’s voice was soft but clear, cutting through the haze like a gentle anchor.
“Feel Sirius’s heartbeat,” he said, his words deliberate, patient. “That’s real.”
The thump beneath your palm was slow and steady, a pulse that carried you, tethering you to this moment. You focused on it, letting the rhythm seep into your bones. Your breath was shallow but steadying, the cold distance inside you melting just a fraction.
The world remained blurry, the edges softened like wet charcoal smudged across a page, but beneath it, a flicker of certainty sparked.
Remus’s hands were firm but tender on your face, his thumbs tracing the curve of your cheek. His eyes caught yours just for a second, a silent promise lingering in their depths.
He knelt before you, close enough that you could see the fine lines around his eyes, the way his breath caught in his throat as he waited for you to return.
“Now, that sound in your head — that’s not real,” Remus whispered, voice low and steady. “That voice telling you you’re alone, broken — that’s not real, my love.”
You blinked, slow and heavy, and the fog wavered at the edges. The echoes of panic began to lose their grip, retreating like waves pulling back from the shore.
The silence wasn’t empty anymore; it held space for something else, something softer, something like hope.
Remus shifted slightly, steadying you as your fingers tightened around Sirius’s wrist. “Look at me,” he said. “I’m here. This is real.”
Your eyelids fluttered, the room tilting slightly but holding fast beneath you. Dust motes drifted lazily in the shafts of fading light. The cold stone floor pressed through your robes, rough but unmistakably solid.
You could smell the faint musk of earth, the sharp tang of old stone — all small but vivid details painting the world back into focus.
“Your hand on my chest,” Sirius murmured close by. “That feeling — that heartbeat — that’s real.”
You let your hand rest there, feeling the rise and fall of his breath, steady and sure. The familiar thrum beneath your palm was a thread weaving you back together.
Somewhere deep inside, a fragile thread of strength twined through the numbness, pulling you from the edge.
Remus’s voice softened again, calm and unwavering. “Those shadows whispering lies — that’s not real. They can’t hurt you.”
The room shifted subtly, colors inching back — muted golds, soft browns, the worn texture of the stone wall.
Your fingers unclenched slightly, trembling less as your body remembered how to be present. The fear lingered, but it was no longer drowning you.
Sirius’s lips brushed gently against the crown of your head, tender and unhurried. “I’m right here,” he breathed. “No harm came to me, I promise. I’m okay, baby.”
The warmth of his breath, the soft press of his lips, the steady beat beneath your palm — they were anchors in a storm that still raged inside you but no longer threatened to swallow you whole.
Remus’s gaze held yours again, steady and sure. “You’re strong. You’re here. That’s real.”
You blinked slower now, the colors sharpening, the shapes resolving. His face was close, lined with worry and hope.
The faintest smile touched his lips. “There she is. There’s my strong girl.”
“Strongest I know,” Sirius added, voice rough with emotion.
Your chest rose and fell with a shaky breath, each inhale clearer than the last. The room no longer felt like a void but a space filled with voices, warmth, and presence.
“Your breath,” Remus said softly. “That’s real.”
You felt the air as it caught in your throat and slipped through your lips, rough and uneven but yours. The panic that had clawed inside your chest still fluttered faintly but no longer held sway.
“And those thoughts telling you it’s over, that you’re lost — those aren’t real,” Remus said, gentle but firm. “You’re not gone, love. You're right here, with your boys, yeah?”
The truth of his words sank in slowly, like the first warm light of dawn seeping over a dark horizon. You began to feel the small, grounding realities in a world that had felt so fractured.
Sirius pressed your hand onto Remus' heartbeat. “Feel this, darlin’. That’s real.”
You closed your eyes briefly, focusing on the rise and fall beneath your palm. The steady beat, the heat, the undeniable proof of life and love. It was a fragile thing but enough to hold onto.
Remus brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. “The stone beneath you, the worn fabric of your robes, the sunlight — those are real.”
You felt the rough texture of stone against your back, the scratch of threadbare cloth against your skin. The sharp scent of earth and musk filled your nose.
You weren’t floating anymore. You were here, tethered by small truths.
“And that crushing weight in your chest, that voice of despair — that’s not real,” Remus said. “It’s the echo of fear, nothing more, 'kay?”
The fog began to clear further, colors deepening, shadows retreating. Your hands stopped trembling. You were not lost. Not yet.
“Your heartbeat,” Sirius said softly, “That thumping beneath your skin — that’s real.”
You moved your fingers slightly, feeling the pulse that matched the rhythm in your chest, slow and sure. It was a tether you could hold.
Remus’s eyes searched yours, steady and filled with unspoken promises. “And those lies that tell you you’re weak — those aren’t real. You're the bravest girl ever, my bravest girl.”
You let out a shaky breath, the sound small but certain. The room breathed with you, alive and present.
“Your voice,” Remus said gently, “Even if you can’t speak yet, even if the silence feels endless — that’s real.”
You tried to move your lips, a faint sound rasping out. It was weak but unmistakably yours.
“And the silence that screams in your head — that’s not real,” Remus said. “You’re not alone.”
Sirius pulled you closer, careful and steady. “Hold on to me. As tight as you need, love. I wont break. I'm yours to hold.”
You wondered if you would stay here, suspended in the quiet, untouched and unseen. You wondered if it would matter.
But then you leaned into Remus, slow and unsteady, the space between you folding like something fragile.
His arms came around you, strong and sure, holding you like you might break but wouldn’t. Sirius's hand pressed firm and steady against your back, his lips brushing the top of your head, his heartbeat drumming beneath your palm.
“I love you so much,” he whispered, voice breaking just slightly, like he’d been waiting too long to say it.
Remus’s hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing away tears you hadn’t realized you’d shed. “We love you, more than anything in this wide world.” he said, firm and gentle.
“I love you. I love you so much it aches. I'll keep saying it over and over until you feel it, until you're back here with me."
Yet the doubts still lingered in the back of your mind, pushing hard and trying to surface to drown you in everything that wasn’t real.
“Real or not real?” you asked, voice trembling but sure.
Remus smiled, soft and sure. “Real,” he whispered. “Nothing is ever more real than this.”
You felt it then, the weight of their presence, the solidness of their bodies pressed against yours. Real.
Real in a way nothing else was. It anchored you, brought you back from the edges of that empty, floating void.
And maybe that thing you cannot name might find you sometimes, might whisper your fears and doubts into the quiet spaces of your mind. But Sirius and Remus would always be there to name everything that was real and everything that wasn’t, to remind you of what was solid, what was unbreakable.
Sirius pressed another kiss to your temple, his hands firm and steady against you. “You’re gonna be okay,” he murmured. “Because you’ve got us. No matter what.”
And maybe you would still drift sometimes, maybe the haze would creep back in, but you would always find your way out of it. Because you weren’t alone. Not anymore.
And if that thing you cannot name finds you again, if it tries to call your fears to the surface, Sirius and Remus will be there. They will name everything real and not real. They will guide you back, every single time.
summary - everyone sees you as this weird and crazy ravenclaw. everyone except remus and sirius.
pairing - ravenclaw!reader x wolfstar
word count - ~2.5k
tw: angst | no happy ending (yet) | bullies | blood | fight | self deprecation | she pronouns used
You thought breakfast would be better than a bowl of porridge, but that’s what you get for waking up late.
You’d overslept on your alarm clock by 45 minutes and were now paying the consequences by eating disgusting gruel for breakfast. There wasn’t even any honey to drizzle on top, thanks to some older Ravenclaws hogging it for their pancakes.
Half the tables were empty, as people started to head off for their first lessons of the day.
You had potions in half an hour.
Potions was one of your favourite lessons of the day, not because you liked the subject - in fact you despised it - but because you got to secretly crush on two of the prettiest boys in school.
Remus Lupin and Sirius Black.
They were currently the only group of Gryffindors still at their table, making a rather loud ruckus as they stood up from the table to leave.
James was teasing Lily about something and Sirius and Remus couldn’t stop laughing over it. Lily pretended to be offended and fake punched Sirius for laughing at her, only to have Remus lean down only slightly and kiss Sirius’ clothed arm all better.
It didn’t help that the two boys you would of course have a heavy crush on would already be in a well established relationship.
I mean, they were the prettiest boys in the school and they were opposites to each other so their relationship made perfect sense.
You just wished you had gotten there with one of them first. But who? You admired them both the same.
Both of them had—
“Oi, Y/N!” A Ravenclaw in your year, named Philip, shouted from down the table, making your porridge slide off your spoon and splat against the table.
You looked towards where Philip and his band of quite mean friends sat.
“Daydreaming about boys you could never get, again?!” Philip laughed, causing others around him to as well.
You didn’t reply. You knew better than to reply. Just keep your head down and trouble should go away.
Your eyes drifted from Philip over to where the Gryffindors had nearly exited the Hall, only Sirius and Remus had stopped just shy of leaving.
They were stood talking to each other.
“Who is it this time Y/N? Hm?” Darcy, one of Philip’s friends teased.
“Remember when Y/N tried to date Isaac? As if she could ever date him.” Someone else joked.
You looked back down at your porridge, still listening to them but trying your best to block them out.
Looking at your breakfast made you think about Isaac. He was just as bland and boring. Until he wanted to have sex with you and you really didn’t want that, well then he became an absolute prick. Started spreading horrible rumours about you, showing his true colours.
Isaac started spreading stories about how you tried to come onto him, only to deny him. How you had been weird and crazy the entire night, when in fact it was the opposite.
Now everyone thinks you’re weird, a prude and a bitch.
One of the reasons you have no friends.
Isaac had managed to isolate you and Philip and his cronies had taken advantage of that.
“Think she was looking at Remus and Sirius.” Someone snickered, making you love uncomfortably.
“No way! Y/N has hots for the dogs,” They thought they were funny, “Is that true, Y/N? You want Remus and Sirius to be your little boyfriends?”
They all laughed, until they went silent.
“You alright, Phil? Can I call you Phil?”
Your head shot up to see Sirius leaning down over the bench next to Philip, resting his palms on the table and glaring him down. Remus stood right behind him.
Your heart rate increased at the sight of them magically appearing.
Did they hear? Did they know? Were they in on the sad and pathetic joke?
“It’s just Philip.” Philip gulped.
“Great, Phil.” Sirius smiled, but it definitely wasn’t genuine. “We heard your filthy mouth speak our names and, well, I for one don’t like pricks speaking about me or my boyfriend behind me back. So keep your goddamn mouth shut or I’ll hex you back to Year 1. Okay?”
“Uhhh…”
“I said, okay?” Sirius asked again.
“Yes, yes!” Philip stuttered.
“Good.” Sirius moved back to stand up.
It was lovely that Sirius had come over here to defend his boyfriend like that. You craved someone having the kindness, and definitely the courage, to stand up for you like that.
You watched as Sirius took Remus’ hand and you wondered what that felt like.
You could imagine Sirius’ hands being quite rough and Remus’ hands being calloused, but both still having a sense of softness to them. They’d both be very grounding and warm to hold on to.
Then they both walked your way.
You quickly started to eat your porridge again, keeping your head down. You don’t think either of them would make a scene with you, but maybe they’d caught on to your gazes and blushing and they’d had enough.
You thought you were subtle but maybe you’d been far more obvious than you intended. You cursed yourself, but only knew it was a matter of time before you made a fool of yourself.
Maybe they weren’t even walking towards you. Why would they? They didn’t know you, except for your name maybe.
But then you saw them stop in front of the bench on the other side of you.
You looked up to find them both smiling warmly down at you. You gulped, thinking the worst.
“You have potions next right, Y/N?” Remus asked kindly.
He did know your name…
And he knew your timetable…
“Yes?” You asked, cautiously.
“You want to walk over with us? We’re heading there now.” Remus asked.
You were a little gobsmacked that they were asking you to do something with them.
No one has asked you to do anything in a very long time, even something as simple as being asked to walk to class with them. So this was a huge deal to you.
“Really? I mean, sorry, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“Intrude?” Sirius laughed, “Never. C’mon.” He kindly smiled and you nervously got up from the table.
You picked up your robe and wand.
“Are you sure?” You asked to make sure a second time.
“Y/N, if you don’t hurry up then Sirius is probably going to pick you up and carry you there himself and then I’m going to have to deal with him moaning about crippling back ache later on… Oh my God… That want be implying anything about your weight… Um… Should I just stop?” Remus rambled and looked to Sirius for help.
“You really should.”
And you smiled.
Genuinely smiled, for what felt like the first time in a long time.
•-•-•-•-•-•
The hallways were starting to become busy.
People moving from morning time to lesson time, especially the first years with their overpacked bags and reckless running through the corridors to get to their lessons on time.
One darted past you, causing you to wobble. Luckily Remus was behind you and he put his hand on the lower part of your back to balance you carefully.
“Thank you.” You said, whilst trying really hard not to blush.
You failed to notice Remus blushing too as you turned back around. You definitely didn’t fail to notice the way Remus kept his hand on your lower back, helping you weave through the halls.
With two of the most popular guys in school, you didn’t realise how easy it was to actually manoeuvre through the corridors.
You’d spent too much time being infatuated with the time that Remus and Sirius were giving you, though, that you’d forgotten your potions book.
You stopped short, feeling the boys bump into the back of you abruptly.
“Bloody… Are you alright Y/N?” Sirius asked.
“I’ve forgotten my potions book. I’ll catch up with you, I just need to run to get it.” You turned to say to them, feeling slightly small underneath both their pretty eyes looking at you.
“Here, just take mine.” Sirius offered.
“No.” Remus swatted his hands, “Another “forgotten” book and you are going to get detention.”
“Oh screw that.” Sirius rolled his eyes.
“Y/N, take mine instead.” Remus insisted.
“What?” This time Sirius hit Remus’ hands away, “And mess with your perfect record? I don’t think so. Y/N…”
“Hey, listen.” You chuckled at the sight of them arguing… over you. It felt like the most surreal situation. “I’m just going to get my book, okay? Then none of us will be in trouble. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
You smiled at them in thanks, before darting around and away from them.
After you’r turned the corner, Remus hit Sirius over the head with his textbook.
“Ow! What the…” Sirius rubbed the back of his head.
“Really? You were about to give yourself a detention?” Remus chuckled, knowing exactly that was what Sirius was about to do and why.
“For Y/N? Absolutely.” Sirius smirked.
Remus shook his head and kissed Sirius’ cheek in admiration, before taking his hand and leading him off to potions.
•-•-•-•-•-•
As you rooted through your belongings in your dorm, you hummed to yourself with content.
You felt ten times lighter than you ever had felt before and all because the two pretty boys you’ve been admiring for so long had looked right back at you. They’d even gone as far as walk with you to potions.
Sirius was willing to get a detention for you and Remus was willing to break his golden reputation. That was flattery of their highest form.
You finally found your book, before pivoting to leave your dorm.
Only to find Darcy standing there with a cat in her arms, looking malicious as ever.
“O-oh Darcy. Hello.” You said, losing your hum and your smile with one look at her.
“Cut the pleasantries. You made us look like fools at breakfast in front of Sirius and Remus, you foul witch.” Darcy spat at you.
“I’m sorry, I never meant for that to happen.”
You felt yourself caving in on yourself, becoming that shelter of a shy person that these horrible people made you.
“And you think an apology will make it all better?”
“I don’t know.” You lowered your head.
“Well it doesn’t.” She moved towards you and you gulped in fear of her. She’d pulled at your hair and enchanted curses on you before, so you were terrified of what she might do now. Especially when it was just you two here.
“I’m sorry.” You looked up at her, hating that she could probably see the fear in your eyes.
“Show us up like that again and you’ll leave with more than just a scratch.”
“A scratch?” You asked, but maybe you shouldn’t have.
Before you knew what was happening Darcy’s cat attacked your face, clawing at your cheek with one powerful hit. The cat screamed what sounded like a war cry and you screamed in pain.
Your head turned to the side, leaving the cat’s claws to drag slightly down your cheek before letting go. You didn’t reveal your face again until you heard the door slam shut.
It only took a minute for you to delicately touch your cheek and see the blood for the pain to come flying in. You cried as you sat on your bed, cupping your cheek from dripping blood everywhere with one hand and the other hand resting on your forehead as you came to terms with what just happened.
You’d just been attacked for trying to apologise for something you hadn’t been in control of.
Your tears ran down your cheek and stung as they ran into the cuts on your cheek.
Walking to the little mirror hanging up on the wall, you looked in to see yourself. There were three lines scraped down your once bare cheek, running from just under your eye to resting on your jawline.
You cried some more, completely getting lost in the self loathing, before rushing around the dorm to find some healing lotion and tissues.
It took you ten minutes to clean up the mess on your face, and another five for the bleeding to calm down. It was an angry red mess, but you had to get to potions before the class ended.
You breathed out through your mouth a shaky breath, dabbing under your eyes with the sleeve of your jumper to wipe away the tears.
“You’re okay.” You said to yourself in the mirror. “You’re okay.”
You found that talking moved the cuts on your face and they stung even worse. So no talking it was. Brilliant.
“You’re okay.” You reminded yourself one last time.
Not A Lot, Just Forever (❤❅✧): it doesn’t take much to keep yourself safe, yet it is still a challenging task for most. surrounding yourself with those who maintain warmth seems to do the trick, luckily you have remus and sirius, and they have you. (@cannibalisation)
Mistake (❅): you feel insecure in your new relationship. (@ellecdc)
↪︎ Happy Accident (❅✧): the comfort part of the hurt from Mistake. (part two)
Meant To Be (❅): you don't feel like you fit in their relationship. (@sun-kissy)
↪︎ Part Two (❤❅✧): they made mistakes, but you know they love you.
new! What Ifs and How It Was (❤❅): a late-night conversation with your best friends—Sirius and Remus—leads to playful confessions. The three of you assume enough time has passed for any romantic feelings to fade. But the awkward silence that follows suggests otherwise. (@fresitasmoribund)
new! A Baby...? (❤❅): your worst fears come true when you realize Sirius and Remus didn't want kids. (@iamgonnagetyouback)
summary: You and Sirius are in dire need of a new coach just weeks before the Olympics. Remus is a former figure skating prodigy forced to retire after a career-ending injury. Though it's not smooth skating right away, those stiff Olympic village beds are dying to be broken in.
collab with @ellecdc
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16
cw: modern au, chronic pain
poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words
Remus still wakes before dark every morning. It’s automatic, an urgency and excitement that thrums through him like an old instinct, born from years of his alarm clock rousing him at this time. The rink is always at its best right now, when they’ve just finished resurfacing the ice and no one else is around. It was Remus’ favorite time to practice.
Now, he has a new reason to get up. His hip clicks as he does it, so he starts his day with a couple of proactive painkillers. If he really wanted to be proactive he would stretch like he’s supposed to, but there’s no time and Remus doesn’t feel like it. He’ll pay his toll for the negligence later.
The webpage of his Airbnb boasted a five-minute walk to the rink, but with his hip it takes Remus seven. It’s like an odd sort of muscle memory, an old routine from another life that feels as bitter as it does comfortable. He heads out early to give himself some cushion. The streets are empty but for bakers and baristas, the first hints of dawn tinging the sky a deep blue. When he turns a corner and the rink comes into view, the absence of his bag hanging from his shoulder is a phantom ache.
The front doors are locked but the side one staff uses isn’t, the Zamboni driver already inside. Remus lets himself in, makes a cup of tea from the hot water dispenser they leave out when concessions are closed, plants himself on a bench, and waits.
And waits.
And waits.
Remus has nearly nodded off when two pairs of shoes come bounding up to him. Well, one pair bounds. The other drags.
“Hi, sorry we’re late.” You’re breathless and hauling a sullen-looking boy along behind you by the hand, but you manage a smile when Remus looks up at you. “I had to run over and get him out of bed. It’s good to meet you!”
You hold out your untethered hand. Remus might normally stand to take it, but he no longer feels like doing you the courtesy. Your grip is firm and warm.
“You were supposed to be here at six,” he says.
You wince. “I know. Sorry, Sirius is really not a morning person.”
Remus thinks that he might put more stock into your apologies if you looked a tad more contrite. As it is, your countenance is almost cheery, a fizzy eagerness about you as you look between him and the ice like you can’t wait to get out on it.
In stark contrast, the ill-tempered boy behind you seems not to have a clue where he is. He looks rumpled and disoriented, squinting in the rink’s fluorescent light.
“Then why didn’t you pick another time?” Remus asks.
He hadn’t realized he was still looking at Sirius, or that the other boy could talk, so it’s a surprise when he answers. “Wasn’t my bloody idea.”
By the way you grin, Remus wonders if you’ve even heard the obvious bitterness in your partner’s tone, or whether it’s gone straight over your head.
“I like the rink better early,” you explain. “No one else ever comes before the hockey practice starts at nine, and they’ll have just finished resurfacing the ice.”
Begrudgingly, Remus nods. “I always preferred it about now, too.”
He realizes immediately that his agreement was a mistake, because your smile grows into something far too brilliant for the early hour. Christ, what has he gotten himself into? There’s you, starry-eyed and effervescing all over the place, and your partner, who looks more inclined to fall asleep on your shoulder than put on his skates.
And this is the pair skating duo Remus is supposed to take to the Olympics.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
“Watch that back foot!” Remus shouts across the ice.
Sirius doesn’t look happy about it, but he corrects the placement of his skate, transitioning smoothly into the next synced turn.
“Good,” Remus murmurs to himself.
Once Sirius got out on the ice and woke up a bit, he was good. He skates with the technical proficiency of someone who’s been in the sport since before they started primary school, and the intuitive artistry of someone who loves it. You’re much the same, though your virtuosity and obvious competence are consistently undercut by hesitation, the grace of your movements interrupted when you second-guess yourself. But these—technical prowess paired with devotion—are the basics of what makes a good figure skater. You’ll have to be flawless if you want to do well at the Olympics.
And Remus has found many flaws.
“No, no—shit!” Remus stands as you fall out of your jump again, catching yourself on your forearms. “You’re still under-rotating! Come on!”
Sirius snarls a quick “Hey!” over his shoulder before turning his back on Remus, going to help you up. He speaks to you quietly, checking you over as you stand. Remus seethes.
He has no clue why he’s been called out here to coach a pair. Remus doesn’t know pairs, has never been a part of one. He was a solo skater. And frankly, it makes him wary that what’s supposed to be the best skating pair in Britain has asked him, a former solo skater who’s been isolated from the figure skating community in general for the past two years, to coach them. But Remus does know figure skating. And he knows when skaters are making stupid mistakes behind their skill level.
“What aren’t you understanding?” asks Remus as you skate back to the edge of the rink. He really wants to know. “It’s simple. You can do this.” He knows he could have. As easy as breathing, and he would kill to have the chance again.
“What the fuck is your problem?”
Sirius’ glare is sharp as knives. He steps off the ice before you can, positioning himself between you and Remus. Your lips purse with a knowing sort of apprehension.
“Sirius…”
“No, you don’t talk to her like that,” Sirius spits. “It was a tiny mistake.”
Remus raises his eyebrows, incredulous. “I’m trying to help her! It was a giant mistake, with a simple fix. You ought to be telling her the same, unless you’re okay with your partner snapping her ankle weeks out from competition.”
“None of that means you get to fucking yell at her! Who do you think you are?”
“Okay—”
“I’m her coach,” says Remus, voice rising, “and—”
“Then coach her! Maybe if you’d give some actual fucking feedback instead of just nitpicking—”
“Okay!” Your shout cuts through the space, echoing in the empty rink and silencing the other two. “That’s enough.”
You haul Sirius back by his shoulder. Your grip doesn’t look severe enough to move him, but he goes, stepping back to your side. His eyes never leave Remus’.
Your own gaze jumps between both boys, that same spark he’d seen in you earlier burning with a different light.
“Let’s call it for today,” you say firmly. “Okay? We’ll try again tomorrow.”
Neither boy speaks, though Remus nods. It seems to be taking all of Sirius’ willpower to bite his tongue. He gets the impression it isn’t something he succeeds at often, so Remus isn’t ashamed to say that it brings him a perverse sort of joy to see it now. His tiny bit of smugness fizzles out, though, when your eyes land on him. There’s something desolate in your expression that’s a salient deviation from how you’d looked at him before. Remus has the sinking feeling that he’s disappointed you. It’s more distressing than he can account for.
“We’ll be here on time tomorrow,” you say in that same steady tone. “And my jump, I’ll work on it.”
Remus nods again. You return it, and when you turn to leave, you drag Sirius after you by his shirtsleeve, picking up your bags along your way. Remus’ mouth feels dry. His lips are chapped, his fingertips hurt from the cold, and the sight of your skates sinking into the rubbery floor makes his hip ache terribly.
It’s only once you’re nearly out of earshot that he manages to mumble, “Thank you.”
