a little bit weird but harmless

yes omg! thank you for this ask, i actually love this idea sm

i think it happens on a random tuesday in february, maybe even not on the actual day (because remus overthinks everything and decides valentine’s itself is too performative). they’re in the dorm room because sirius claimed he “needed help with history notes” (they both know it’s bullshit). remus has been practicing the words in his head for three weeks, but when sirius flops onto the bed beside him, close enough that their shoulders brush, everything collapses. his hands are shaking so badly when he blurts, “sirius, i—i’ve been meaning to—fuck, sorry—would you… maybe…”

remus’ cheeks go nuclear the second the words start tumbling out. the flush starts at his neck, creeps up under his faded jumper collar, and settles high on his cheekbones like he’s been running in the cold. he can’t look sirius in the eye at first, so he stares at sirius’ socks instead, stuttering through half-sentences, “i know it’s stupid and probably not—i mean you don’t have to… it’s just that i like—really like the way you laugh at my shit jokes and—okay, i think i’m ruining this.”

sirius is frozen at first, grey eyes wide, but remus keeps going because the silence is worse. he rambles about tiny specific things: how sirius always saves him the window seat on the train even when he’s late, the way he dog-ears pages in remus’ borrowed books with little sarcastic notes, how his jacket smells great when they share it during rainy walks home. every third word catches, his voice cracking on the vulnerable parts. he’s so flushed and stuttery that he starts gesturing awkwardly with one hand while the other clutches his backpack strap like a lifeline. “i—i’ve liked you for ages, longer than—than is probably healthy. and if you don’t, that’s fine, i just—i needed you to know before i exploded or something”. the exploded comes out so small and mortified that sirius finally cracks a soft smile.

remus’ ears are burning, too. he keeps pushing his hair out of his face even though it’s not in the way, a nervous tic that makes sirius want to reach out immediately. he stutters out, “will you… be my valentine? or… you know, boyfriend. boyfriend is way better than a valentine. or, um—or you could be both. or whatever you want. i’m not picky. just—just yours”.

sirius, instead of teasing (for once), gently takes one of those shaking hands and says, “damn, moony. took you long enough”. remus stays pink for the next hour, hiding his face in sirius’ shoulder when the reality hits. sirius presses gentle kisses to the burning skin of his cheekbones and temple to calm him down.

later that evening they end up walking to the corner shop for cheap chocolate and crisps, remus still faintly flushed every time sirius swings their joined hands. he keeps glancing sideways like he expects sirius to change his mind, but sirius just tugs him into a quiet alley behind the shop and kisses him properly for the first time. remus’ hands are still shaky when they cup sirius’ face.

the rest of the week remus is still quietly flustered every time sirius calls him “my valentine” or “my boy” in public, ears going pink again. but sirius starts collecting those flushed moments, with kissing the heat on remus’ cheeks in the empty stairwell and tracing the edge of remus’ flushed jaw while they talk.

Remus fiddles with their pleated skirt, creasing and flattening a couple of folds that had been wrinkled at first but were now even more of a mess since they'd started messing with it. They sigh, tugging on their jumper instead, then scuffing their shoes against the pavement beneath their feet. The bench is growing hard beneath their arse and they're just thinking about walking around when there's a commotion at the entrance of the park: a person with long hair, a leather jacket and boots. Their jeans are so tight Remus can see the definition of their gorgeous thighs from their bench; droolworthy, perfect thighs.

Their heart gives a twist.

Padfoot has been their friend for ages. Online only, of course, given that Remus lives in Wales and Padfoot in Islington, but they've been friends for going on twenty-two years now. As soon as Sirius had a phone that could take photos, they'd begun snapping selfies: Remus isn't sure they've ever seen a more beautiful person in their life.

Sirius looks around, then their eyes alight on Remus, and they perk up from their casual slouch to an excited jog, crossing the distance between them quickly, until they get in speaking distance and falter, broad shoulders coming up to their ears.

They stop just a few paces from the bench, and eyes made of liquid silver roll over them, taking in their knobby knees, the brown plaid pleated skirt, the brown jumper, and falter on their face. At first, they wonder if it's repulsion, but then Sirius flushes, cheeks coloring.

It's the first time Sirius will have seen them. Sure, they both started talking before they'd come out—before they both realized that their preferred gender was neither man, nor woman, but something else entirely. Back when Sirius used to laugh and dream of an escape, back when Remus longed to be worthy.

Hesitantly, they ask, "Moony?" and shove their long, gorgeous hands deep into their pockets, exposing their shyness for what it is.

Remus stands, fixing their skirt and awkward wave. They'd told themself they wouldn't smile widely so as not to expose their wonky teeth, but this is their oldest friend. They can't help it, lips curling into a smile, heart thudding in their chest, pulse roaring in their ears. Sirius is taller than Remus, but more buff, with more padding around the middle compared to how stick thin and inefficient Remus is. They glow brighter than their namesake, and their hair is long; wavy and thick past their shoulders and cascading down their back. This is who they've been in love with for half their life?

Part of them wants to flee, to apologize and say they misunderstood, but Sirius is looking at them with so much hope, so much feeling, that they can't deny their oldest friend.

"Padfoot," Remus confirms, and spreads their arms out: Sirius gapes, then launches themself into them. Remus' arms have always been long and awkward, elbows and wonky joints, but when they hug Sirius, they don't feel awkward. It doens't feel like the first time they've met, but a lifetime of missing someone they've always known. They sink into Sirius' embrace and tuck their face against their shoulder, and breathe them in.

Sirius smells like a crisp summer breeze, a tad bit of gasoline, perhaps a bit of cigarette smoke, but all of that is dwarfed by the warm chicory mixed with sandalwood that must be their cologne.

"I can't believe this is happening," Sirius murmurs, squeezing Remus hard, holding them with firm, steady hands against their lower back. "You're gorgeous, you know?"

Everything in Remus wants to reject it, but that's the thing: the only one who has never lied to them is Sirius. The only one who they've ever come out to is Sirius. The only one who knows everything, who has been there every step of the way, is Sirius.

handsy

Remus’ fantasy from this scene.

The fun smutty part of this AU is about to start, stay tuned!😉

Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Caradoc Dearborn/Remus Lupin

Explicit

Chapter 11/31

62,209 words

modern AU, non-magical AU, omegaverse, omega Remus, alpha Sirius, omega Caradoc, slow build, omega discrimination, loss of parent, grief, social anxiety, smoking, nesting, friends with benefits, anal sex, crushes, goot Peter, panic attacks, past abuse, forbidden love, first time being knotted, rimming, happy ending

Every omega must belong to an alpha. When Remus’s dad—who has been his Alpha because he never found a partner—dies, Remus is left to be taken to an omega group home, where he will meet alphas five times a week until he finds someone to take him home. There he meets Caradoc, an omega who’s a bit of a loner but quickly becomes friends with Remus. Remus also meets a staff member called Sirius, whom he’s immediately attracted to. Too bad that relationships between the residents and the staff are strictly forbidden.

suicide baiting (often machine translated into other languages)

asking you to mail them your work with a promise of payment

As always, please be cautious if something in the comments seems untrue or strange, and follow internet safety best practices.