27 ⏤WHEN I WIN (underground fighter remus au)
“You don’t have to do this (Y/N),” Remus comments, voice soft and gentle as he watches you with tender eyes wrapping up his hands and knuckles with gauze.
“Just let me, Remus,” you counter in a similarly delicate tone. The act helps you cover up the scars and bruises embellishing the skin of his hands, which offers some relief, but it’s immediately taken away as soon as you remember that this was all in preparation for his next fight. After bandaging up his right hand, you don’t let go and stay exactly where you are; standing in between his thighs as he sits atop a table backstage, “...why do you have to do this, Rem?” your voice is shaking and on the verge of crumbling away for rampant sobs to push through. In an attempt to tamper it all down, you play with his large, calloused hands and trace your fingers along the veins that protrude from his scarred skin.
“You know why…” he lifts up your chin, trying to meet your eyes but you can’t look at him. Instead he holds both of your small hands with one of his and lifts your arms up so that he could tuck his face under them and bring you closer by the waist with his free hand. He locks you in his embrace and breathes in your comforting scent, it’s warm and intimate; you smell like home. He’s so lucky you’ve stayed by his side even though you have no obligation to.
“Remus, please,” he didn't answer. Silence follows your plea and it persists even when he suddenly moves to drop down from his perch on the table, turn with you still in his arms, pick you up by the waist to sit you down where he once was. With your positions switched, he locks you in by placing his hands on either side of your thighs and presses his face into the junction of your shoulder and neck with a deep inhale. You are all he needs before a match. You’re his good luck charm, the only thing that can bring peace to his mind and help him rise to victory.
He just hates seeing you so upset over him. He knows you deserve better, so much better than what he can ever hope to offer you, and he should just let you go so that you aren't tied to him but Remus is addicted to your devotion. You’re the closest thing he has to a loving partner. He wants you to know how much you mean to him in the hopes of becoming something more but he’d feel too guilty if he held onto you any tighter than he already is.
“I really appreciate you being here for me…” he rasps beside your ear before proceeding to kiss your temple, “I love you,”
“What was that?” you ask, missing the words he had muttered into your skin. You had a vague idea of what he said but didn’t want to get your hopes up, your eyes gave away your hope, however, and Remus had to pull away before he lost the reins to his resistance. If temptation was personified, it would be you.
Nevertheless, Remus settled for gripping your waist, his thumb sneaking underneath your shirt and fondly massaging your supple skin and groaning at the unsavoury thoughts pervading his mind.
‘She’s my best friend, she’s my best friend she’s my best friend…’ he chanted internally for his own sanity
“Remus I-” you’re cut off by a rapid knocking at the door.
“You’re up! Get out here!”
Remus presses a lingering kiss against your cheek and steps away from you, smiling fondly at the hand you subconsciously reach out to him with, “I’ll tell you what I said when I win the match,” without another word, he’s out the door, eager to get in the ring and win the match.
Fuck being your friend, he’s making you his love once he’s secured his victory. Like all the underground matches he’s won before, this fight was for you.