my cosmic love, my rarest air

a little excerpt from my sunrise on the reaping wolfstar au <3

read When Again Your Eyes Open, the Sun Will Rise on ao3.

hi darling! sure sure, here you go:

sirius develops this beautiful habit of describing colors to remus not by name but by how they feel, like “this sunset is like that warm wool jumper you like, the one that’s really soft and loose around your neck”

remus has memorized the exact creak pattern of every floorboard in their flat so he can navigate silently at night when he can’t sleep. sirius still wakes up anyway because remus’ breathing changes when he’s overthinking, and sirius will mumble “c’mere” and pull him back into bed without opening his eyes

they have a system for crowded places. sirius guides with a hand on remus’ elbow but makes it look casual, while remus taps out rhythms on sirius’ wrist to signal when he needs a second to reorient. it looks like regular couple pda to everyone else but it’s actually this whole silent language

sirius’ favorite way to wake remus up is pressing slow kisses along the line of freckles on his cheeks and nose until remus makes that sleepy grumpy noise and opens his eyes

remus basically lives with airpods in. the navigator voice is his constant companion when he’s out (he calls her the lady with fond exasperation). once they’re together sirius starts saying that he can help remus navigate space just fine, so he goes like, “now, pretty boy, merge left and let me kiss your neck at the next light” instead of letting the lady speak

sirius’ favorite thing to wear on lazy days is remus’ oversized hoodie that’s two sizes too big even on remus. it smells like remus’ skin and cologne and sirius will wear it for five days straight until remus laughs and tells him that they really should go to the laundromat

sirius becomes obsessed with textures because of remus. he’ll randomly grab remus’ hand and press it to whatever he’s wearing that day (“cashmere today, feel how soft”) just so remus can read his outfit like braille

remus’ favorite way to read sirius’ face is by tracing it with his fingertips when they’re lying in bed, starting at the temple, down the cheekbone, lingering on the little mole near sirius’ lip

sirius’ hands are always a little cold. remus runs hot all the time, so he makes it his mission to warm them up, either by stuffing them in his own coat pockets or just holding them constantly. public or private, doesn’t matter

late nights when remus is deep in an audiobook, sirius will crawl into bed and rest his head on remus’ chest just to feel the vibrations of his breathing and the low hum of whatever story is playing. sometimes remus reads the spicy bits out loud in this deadpan voice just to fuck with him

sirius buys remus those fancy coffee subscription boxes and pretends it’s “research” but really he just loves the little excited sound remus makes when he opens the package

remus can tell which version of sirius is coming through the door by the jingle of his keys and the rhythm of his footsteps. sirius starts exaggerating both when he knows remus is waiting, just to make him grin