What The Fuck?
"Your brother told me you wanted to meet me." The voice cut through the quiet air, coming from behind Sirius.
It was the third race of the competition, and after god knows how long, the organizers had finally set the date. Sirius was focused, wiping down his windows and checking every inch of his car. He wanted it flawless, every detail accounted for. The crowd was still light, mostly trickling in for the pre-game. The race was still a couple of hours away, but he had arrived early—maybe it was for the car, maybe for something else.
Something—or someone—was speaking to him now.
A chill ran down his spine, his pulse quickening, and his chest tightened with a rush of excitement. He spun around, too quickly, the motion almost jerky. And there he was—Remus Lupin. Standing there in the flesh, perfect, impossibly beautiful, and undeniably magnetic. Yet, despite the charm in his presence, his expression was unreadable—somewhere between irritation and indifference.
"Um, well, hello—" Sirius started, flashing a grin that was almost too easy. "I can’t believe he actually kept his word," he added with a chuckle, trying to play it off.
"Yeah, he said he owed you," Remus replied flatly. "He also said you’re an asshole."
The words hit like a slap, and Sirius’s grin froze before slipping away entirely. A flicker of doubt flashed in his eyes, and his confidence cracked just enough for nervousness to seep through.
"What?" he blurted out, his voice tinged with unease.
Remus didn’t let up, his gaze sharp and cutting, like daggers aimed straight at Sirius. "Seriously? Who the hell threatens their own brother—saying you’d out him to your mother if he didn’t do what you wanted?"
Sirius opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
"I thought you were a dick from the first time we crossed paths," Remus continued, his voice steady but laced with disgust. "But this? Oh, this is a whole new level of low."
“Wait—” Sirius’s voice broke into a plea, his usual bravado crumbling. “No, no, you’ve got it all wrong. I was doing him a favor! I mean, not like that—not in a bad way. Of course, I wouldn’t actually out him to our mother—that’s not— I mean, that’s not what happened.”
“Oh, so you’re saying he lied to me?” Remus asked, blunt and unforgiving.
“Yes! No—wait, I mean…” Sirius stammered, his hands flying up in a frantic attempt to explain. “He’s just not telling the whole truth. Okay, yeah, technically I might have threatened him with that, but only because he and my best friend cannot stop fighting, and it’s been driving me insane. So, yeah, I kinda… parent-trapped them. I told Reggie I’d tell our mom if he didn’t spend time with him and sort their issues out. But like—” He paused, running a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. “It’s just—they were driving me crazy!”
“So let me get this straight.” Remus’s tone was sharp, cutting through Sirius’s rambling. “You forced him to spend time with someone he doesn’t like?”
Sirius opened his mouth, but nothing came out. This wasn’t going well. Dammit.
"Have you ever stopped to think," Remus pressed, his voice low and pointed, "that maybe the reason your brother doesn’t like your best friend is because he’s another asshole—just like you? Maybe your brother has a damn good reason for hating him."
Sirius let out a scoff, though it sounded more nervous than confident. "Pfft. James? Harmless. Reg doesn’t— I mean, he doesn’t have any reason to hate him," he said, waving it off with an awkward shrug.
"And yet he does," Remus countered, his tone steady but cutting. "So, instead of actually talking to your brother and finding out what the issue is, you decided to force him to spend time with James. And not just that—you threatened him. Wow." He folded his arms, leaning back slightly as a smirk of disbelief tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Brother of the year award goes to you, I guess!" he added, the sarcasm dripping from every word.
"Okay, okay—" Sirius raised his hands defensively, desperate to salvage the situation. "I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot here. I promise you, I wasn’t actually going to out my brother to my mother—"
"So?" Remus interrupted sharply, his voice slicing through Sirius’s attempt at damage control. "He doesn’t know that. You made him believe you were serious. Do you have any idea how awful that must have been for him?"
Sirius opened his mouth to respond but faltered, guilt flickering across his face.
"You’re an asshole," Remus continued, his words firm and unyielding. "I don’t know your brother that well, but he’s a chill guy. Smart, too— really smart. I like him, and trust me, I don’t like a lot of people. So, here’s what you’re going to do: you’re going to apologize to him."
"Yes, of course—" Sirius started, eager to agree.
"I’m not done," Remus cut him off, his eyes narrowing. "And while we’re at it, you better stay the hell away from me. Oh, and just so you know…" He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, deliberate tone. "I’m going to beat you tonight. On the track. And I’m going to make you pay."
And that was crossing the line. Sure, Remus could call him an asshole all he wanted, but dragging racing into this? That was personal. If this guy wanted to play dirty, Sirius was ready to meet him head-on.
"Alright, Mister Morally Superior," Sirius shot back, his tone sharpening as his defenses kicked in. "If that’s how you want it, fine."
"Fine," Remus replied coolly.
"Fine!" Sirius snapped, louder this time.
"Fine!" Remus echoed, his volume rising to match.
"Fiiineee!" Sirius dragged the word out, throwing in an exaggerated smirk for good measure.
"You’re such an annoying person," Remus sighed, exasperation dripping from his voice as he ran a hand through his hair.
"Hm, well, at least I’m attractive," Sirius countered with a smug grin.
"Oh, so you’re shallow too," Remus shot back, an amused scoff escaping him. "Figures."
"I might be a lot of things," Sirius pressed on, leaning into his defense, "but ugly isn’t one of them."
"Yeah, right," Remus said, rolling his eyes, his tone dripping with mockery. "You’re pretty damn ugly to me."
"I could say the same about you," Sirius fired back, his grin tightening.
"Oh, really?" Remus tilted his head, his smirk growing sharper. "Then I guess that explains why you were so eager to meet me, huh?"
"Don’t flatter yourself," Sirius retorted, masking the flicker of nerves with a casual shrug. "I only wanted to meet the competition."
"Well, you’ve met me now," Remus countered, his gaze unwavering.
"Pretty damn disappointing," Sirius shot back, crossing his arms with a smirk.
"Right back at you," Remus replied without missing a beat. Then, with a flat smile and a sarcastic edge to his tone, he added, "Oh wait— not disappointing. My expectations of you were already rock bottom."
"Right, yeah. So if I’m such rock bottom," Sirius snapped, his voice laced with frustration, "maybe you should go hang out with your friends instead of wasting your time insulting me." His patience had officially run out with this enigma of a man.
Sure, Remus was objectively attractive—tall and lanky, with that brooding, almost effortless charm. Okay, maybe a bit awkward in the way he dressed, but still. None of that excused the attitude. Who did he think he was, anyway? Strutting around like he was better than everyone else? Remus didn’t know the first thing about Sirius, so who was he to sit on his high horse?
The retort Sirius expected never came. Instead, Remus faltered, his mouth opening as if to say something, then snapping shut again. His expression shifted, the sharpness in his gaze softening into something unspoken, something almost vulnerable.
And oh, Sirius saw it. That flicker of hesitation, of defeat .
He grinned, a slow, wicked thing, and let out a low, malevolent chuckle. "Oh," Sirius drawled, his voice dripping with mockery, "you don’t have any friends, do you?"
"What do you know?" Remus shot back, his tone sharp, but his posture slightly stiff.
"I don’t," Sirius admitted with a casual shrug, the grin still lingering on his face. "But judging by the look on your face… you’re new here?"
"New here? Where—London?" Remus asked, narrowing his eyes.
Sirius nodded, leaning against the hood of his car as he studied him.
Remus shook his head, exhaling in frustration. "No. I’ve lived here my whole life. I just—" He paused, searching for the right words before settling on a blunt truth. "I just don’t like people," he said finally, his tone clipped. Then, as if to cement the point, he added, "Like I said… not fond of them."
"Maybe you’d have some friends if you didn’t attack them in the first conversation," Sirius pointed out, his tone laced with mockery.
"Yeah, and maybe I’d want friends if people weren’t as insufferable as you," Remus shot back, his scowl sharpening into something downright lethal.
"Me? Insufferable? " Sirius scoffed, gesturing dramatically. "Your name is literally Remus Lupin. Talk about clichés and insufferable things. What, did your mum think you were destined to be the emperor of Rome?"
Remus snorted, his lips curving into a sharp smirk. "Oh, look who’s talking— Mr. Sirius Black, the brightest star in the sky. Corny as hell," he retorted, crossing his arms with exaggerated flair.
"Lupin is also a constellation, smartass," Sirius pointed out, raising an eyebrow. "It derives from Lupus, which is Latin for—"
"Wolf," Remus interrupted smoothly, cutting him off mid-sentence. "It’s Latin for wolf. I know my stuff."
"Oh, so you’re a know-it-all now?" Sirius teased, his tone dripping with ridicule.
Remus didn’t even flinch, his expression steady and unbothered. "I’m sure as hell I know more than you," he shot back coolly, the sharp edge in his voice leaving no room for doubt.
"You don’t know the first thing about me—" Sirius started, his voice tight with irritation.
"I bet I do, though," Remus interrupted, his tone cutting through Sirius like a blade. "You’re the classic rebel rich kid. Life got too hard with all that privilege, so you rebelled to cope, right? All that money, and the only thing you’ve learned how to do is whine about how bad you have it."
Sirius opened his mouth to argue, but Remus didn’t give him the chance.
"And let me guess," Remus continued, his words gaining momentum. "You feel superior because of your last name, but you’ve earned exactly nothing. Probably skipped classes, not because you’re too cool for school, but because you’re terrible at it. And don’t even get me started on—"
"Okay!" Sirius snapped, holding up a hand to stop the tirade. His eyes were wide, his ego clearly bruised. "We get it. I’m an entitled brat. Anything else, Dr. Freud ?"
Remus tilted his head, his lips quirking into a half-smile. "Yeah, just one more thing—you might look the part of a rebel, but deep down? You’re as desperate for approval as the rest of us."
The words hit Sirius harder than he cared to admit, but he covered it up with a laugh—a harsh, defensive sound. "Oh, and what are you, Lupin? The mysterious brooding loner who’s too good for everyone simply because people have treated you badly in the past?"
"Exactly," Remus said simply, the smirk on his face making it impossible to tell if he was joking or dead serious.
Remus regarded him with a mixture of disdain and resignation. He had met guys like Sirius countless times before—the kind who walked through life with a sense of entitlement, believing the world owed them everything while they owed it nothing. Remus couldn’t stand those types, and while he wasn’t typically one to make sweeping judgments, Sirius had proven himself an exception.
What he’d learned so far confirmed it: Sirius Black was a waste of time and energy, someone Remus wanted no part of. A shame, really—because Sirius was undeniably attractive.
But looks, as far as Remus was concerned, were meaningless when paired with a rotten core. A pretty face couldn’t hide an ugly heart.
It was maddening to think this was Regulus’ brother. The same quiet, intelligent Regulus he had come to respect. No wonder Regulus seemed to resent him. Sirius Black wasn’t just insufferable—he was a walking reminder of why first impressions so often turned out to be right.
"Just so you know," Sirius said, stepping closer, his posture rigid as he raised his chin defiantly. His voice dropped, steady but sharp. "You’ve got it all wrong."
"Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night," Remus said with a dismissive shrug, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Now go on, piss off. You’ve got a race to lose."
Remus turned to leave, and Sirius should have let him go. He should have , but the sting of humiliation burned too hot to ignore.
"Hey, Lupin?" Sirius called out, his voice dripping with mockery.
Remus stopped mid-step, turning halfway, his expression already wary.
"Who gave you those scars, huh?" Sirius taunted, a smug grin spreading across his face.
It happened in a flash. One moment, Sirius was standing tall, brimming with misplaced bravado; the next, a fist collided with his jaw, sending him staggering back. The blow was hard and unrelenting, knocking him off balance. He tasted the sharp tang of blood as it pooled in his mouth, warm and metallic.
Remus loomed over him, his eyes blazing with fury. "Don’t talk about things you don’t understand," he growled, his voice low and venomous.
And as if to drive the point home, he spat directly at Sirius, the disdain in his action louder than any words. Without another glance, Remus turned and walked away, leaving Sirius standing there—angry, humiliated, and marked by the weight of his own recklessness.
Sirius wiped the spit off his cheek, his pride stinging more than his face.
Battered and humiliated, he glanced away—only to see James pulling up in his own car. They never usually arrived separately to these races, but something had been off with James all week. Ever since that mysterious date, he'd been unusually quiet, almost withdrawn. Before the date, he’d been buzzing with energy, practically vibrating with excitement like a puppy chasing a new toy. But when he came back… it was as if something had drained the life out of him. He looked worn down, almost hurt.
Sirius had tried to ask, of course—subtlety had never been his style—but James had brushed him off with a shrug and a change of subject. And that was the strangest part. James never hid things from him. Ever. First, there was the mystery of who he had gone out with, and second, there was the even bigger mystery of why he looked so damn exhausted. It threw Sirius off balance. He wasn’t used to James shutting him out, and the unfamiliarity of it gnawed at him.
“Hey,” James greeted, his tone distant.
“That was him, right? Lupin?”
“Yeah, yeah—” Sirius waved a hand, trying to brush off whatever weird tension lingered between them.
James let out a small, almost amused smile. “Neat,” he said. “So? What did he say? You two going out or something?”
Sirius scoffed, eyes widening before he let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Going out? No. The bloke’s a complete wanker. He basically showed up just to call me an asshole.”
James blinked, taken aback. “What? Why the hell would he do that?”
Sirius exhaled through his nose, the answer coming flat and simple. “Regulus.”
“Oh,” James muttered, but something in his posture shifted—his expression tightened, unreadable.
Honestly, what the hell was going on?
Sirius thought the whole parent-trap scheme had worked out—at least, that’s what James had said. So why was everything still a mess? First, his crush was a complete wanker. Second, his brother and best friend couldn’t stand each other. And third—
“Is that Mulciber?” James cut in, nodding over Sirius’ shoulder.
Sirius turned, his stomach dropping as his eyes landed on the familiar figure. Bloody hell.
“Why the bloody hell is he back?” he muttered. “Is Avery here too?”
“I think so,” James said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Somewhere in the crowd. Can’t believe Mulciber would actually show his face here after last time.”
Last time.
Oh, last time .
Three years ago. The race that shattered everything.
Mulciber and Avery—two names that dominated the streets. They were ruthless, always pushing the limits, bumping opponents off course, and finishing first and second like it was scripted. A deadly duo no one dared to mess with.
But then, that night happened.
Someone had paid Mulciber—a fortune—to take Avery out of the race. At first, it was subtle. A nudge here, a push there. But at the final stretch, Mulciber turned on him. The crowd watched in horror as Avery’s car spun out of control, flipping three times before crumpling against the guardrail.
The aftermath was brutal. Blood everywhere. Broken ribs. A shattered nose. Avery was rushed to the hospital and spent four months in a coma.
When he woke up, he didn’t hesitate. "Get the fuck out of my life," he told Mulciber. "Don’t come back."
And Mulciber didn’t. He fled—to Europe, to Monaco—and climbed the ranks of professional racing. Left the streets and Avery behind.
But now?
Now he was back. After three years, Mulciber stood there like nothing had changed—as if he hadn’t torn his best friend apart and left him to rot.
“Bloody hell,” Sirius groaned, raking a hand through his hair. “As if tonight´s race wasn’t already a bloody riskful disaster.”
The lot was packed now, the buzz of engines and scattered conversations filling the air as the countdown to the race began. Cars gleamed under the flickering glow of overhead lights, their drivers already sizing each other up.
Tonight’s track was no joke—a narrow hill road riddled with sharp turns and hairpin curves. The kind of race where one wrong move didn’t just cost you the win—it could send you straight off the edge.
“You gotta be careful,” James warned, his tone low.
“Yeah, yeah,” Sirius muttered, barely listening as his eyes swept over the crowd.
Sirius caught sight of his brother stepping out of Crouch’s car, accompanied by that blonde boy he’d met last time—Evan Rosier. The car rumbled off toward the starting line, leaving them behind. Just in time.
“The race is about to begin,” the commentator announced. “All racers, please make your way to the starting line.”
“Break a leg,” James said, clapping Sirius on the shoulder. “I’ll see you after.”
With that, Sirius slid into his car and pulled up to the starting line. To his right—Lupin. To his left—Mulciber. Bloody hell.
Mulciber rolled down his window, a slow, smug grin spreading across his face before he shot Sirius a devilish wink—taunting him, daring him.
He half-expected a howl to break through the noise, something feral echoing off the hills. But instead, all he heard was the distant roar of an engine revving up.
And for some reason, it made his pulse quicken.
When the countdown hit zero and the gunshot rang out, Sirius slammed his foot on the pedal without hesitation. His eyes narrowed as Lupin’s car shot past him, and he cursed under his breath. It was almost too perfect, really. Sirius, always the star, now chasing after some amateur.
Oh, how the mighty fall. Sirius Black, of all people, caught up by someone like that. The irony was almost laughable.
The first round was a breeze. Being at the front, having passed both Mulciber and Crouch, meant he didn’t have to deal with assholes up close—just the ones in the back, and they weren’t much of a challenge. Sirius was fast, skilled. He tore through those sharp turns like a madman, his hands steady on the wheel. The course was simple: up the hill, down the hill, repeat—three times.
The crowd erupted as Sirius crossed the finish line first. He shouldn’t have looked, but he did. He always did. He always searched for Regulus in the crowd.
It was like a flash—too quick, too fleeting—but there he was, unmistakable. Regulus Black, his little brother, kissing James Potter. And oh fuck— what the fuck? His chest constricted, and suddenly it felt like the air was being sucked out of his lungs. But Sirius didn’t back down. He couldn’t afford to.
For a brief, stupid moment, he lost focus. A second. In any other setting, it wouldn’t matter. But here, on this course, that second could cost him the race. Crouch shot past him, and a few others followed suit.
Sirius grit his teeth, swerving between the cars ahead of him, trying not to lose control. But his mind kept circling back to that kiss. What in god's name was happening? Why the fuck was Regulus kissing James?
And then, something slammed into his car from behind.
The impact jolted him, throwing him off balance for a brief moment, but Sirius regained control swiftly. He glanced at the rearview mirror, locking eyes with Mulciber's furious face.
Nobody knew nothing. The truth was, Mulciber had been regretting that last race since it happened. If only he had known how badly Avery would lose control of the car, he would have never made the decision. He would never have risked everything for money.
The past three years of partying, drugs, and endless distractions hadn't done a damn thing to ease the guilt. None of it had worked. He was still haunted by what he'd done. And now, here he was—back in the thick of it. He needed Avery. God, he missed him so much.
He remembered the first time he met Avery, back when they were thirteen. They started off stealing each other's toys, then cars, then clothes. Mulciber couldn’t pinpoint the moment he fell for Avery, but he had, and that love—the guilt over betraying that love—had consumed him ever since. The idea of living with the betrayal, of not fixing it, was unbearable.
He needed to apologize. Avery could curse him out, he could hate him—it didn’t matter. Mulciber just needed to see him.
And there was no way in hell anyone was keeping him away. Avery was his—always had been. Mulciber wasn’t about to let him slip through his fingers. And this race? He wasn’t losing it. Not to Sirius Black.
Because Sirius, like Mulciber, was reckless. A danger to everyone else, just like Mulciber. But that was Mulciber’s territory—he knew how to play this game. And he wasn’t going to lose.
He slammed into Sirius´ car again.
Sirius cursed under his breath as Mulciber caught up, their cars side by side, each slamming into the other with brutal force. The road was narrow, the curves unforgiving, but Sirius didn’t flinch. He had this. He always did.
The tires screeched as they fought for dominance, the cars barely an inch apart. Mulciber was relentless, his intent clear—to push Sirius off track. But Sirius knew this game. He could feel the hum of the engine under his grip, the rush of adrenaline sharp in his veins. He was faster. He was smarter.
A sharp turn loomed ahead, and Sirius took it without hesitation, his grip firm on the wheel as his car hugged the curve. For a fleeting moment, he thought he had it—smooth, effortless, controlled.
Then, out of nowhere, Mulciber slammed into him.
The impact was brutal. Metal screeched against metal, the force rattling through Sirius' bones. His tires skidded, his control slipping. Mulciber’s car veered too hard, teetering for a split second before plunging into the abyss below.
Sirius didn’t even have time to react. His own car spun out, slamming into the mountainside. His head hit the wheel, and the world snapped to black before he could even process what had happened.