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tojivu · 7 months

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# OFFICE HOURS ‣ GOJO SATORU

✰ — author’s note i feel so guilty bc gojo is literally the only character i write for LOL anyway this is an old draft from months ago. idk why this is so long im so horrendously down bad for this fucking snowman.

✰ — cw / tags arrogant ceo!gojo x secretary f!reader, sfw, not rly enemies to lovers bc gojo has fat feelings, gojo satoru being a billionaire playboy

✰ — playing death & taxes by daniel caesar.

✰ — word count ~3k LOL

nothing about gojo satoru really strikes you as the serious type.

even in a professional environment, your boss always has a carefree demeanour. his laugh is so nauseatingly loud that you can hear it from outside the office, and you wonder how someone as busy as him manages through his day; much less with a positive attitude. you take one look at his schedule, and you want to vomit with the way you hardly see any gaps between appointments.

you suppose you could learn that from him. it's his only good quality.

you admit that he's likeable, on surface level. there's a reason why you detest him, though: as his closest colleague, you know him way more than you would prefer. most people would think such a well to do man like satoru would have a wife by his side, but that's unfortunately not the case. you almost feel more miserable than him—because now you're forced to be the listening ear and comforting hand at his beck and call.

you think he'd be just fine if he was just a little more humble. he has a nice face. it's his fault for being so stuck up. you know how many women ask him out—painfully aware, actually.

'they just aren't suited to my taste,' he would say to you. 'i need someone that makes me feel alive.'

one time, gojo even asked you to bail him out of a date—something about the way she held her fork and knife disturbed him, and you were expected to show up at the restaurant and act as if there was an emergency.

'i'm so sorry, sweetheart. i have to go, duty calls.' his disgustingly charming tone made you want to slap him then and there.

she called him again the following week, and he completely forgot who she was. he didn't even save her number.

the sheer number of people asking him out had stroked his ego so hard that gojo firmly believes no woman is deserving enough. he rambles on and on to you about how snobby some of them seem, and it takes everything in you to bite your tongue when he does. 'takes one to know one,' you would say, if not for your job at stake.

you think gojo satoru is full of himself. you are a strong believer of that. a witness, as well—it's not like he didn't try his way with you, too. unlike the women he ranted about, you turned him down every single time.

it's been a long while since any of that has happened, though. the most recent ordeal was months ago, but that didn't inherently mean that people stopped asking him out: it just meant that he was rejecting every single offer.

it's a thursday morning when you find yourself eating a sandwich you purchased on the way to work, at your desk—wondering when the big boss will finally arrive. the clock read 9 a.m., and you're expecting an extravagant "good morning!" to surprise you any moment now.

just then, you notice mr. conceited walk in: except something is different. he has no stride in his step. there was no good morning. there was no playful teasing directed at you as he walked past your desk and into his office, not that you were complaining—it was just strange.

you stand up, a mouthful of your sandwich still being chewed. you take a big sip of water and fix your skirt and blouse, making sure your hair is presentable—before swiftly making your way into his office.

──────

"i cannot believe this." he mumbles. you're standing in front of his desk, but he's not facing your direction.

gojo's chair is turned to the giant window that overlooks the business district, and he's gazing out of it thoughtfully. you think this is the cheesiest thing you've seen him do.

you can see how disheveled his hair was, even from where you were standing. you don't want to irritate him further, in case teasing you was still on his to-do list that day.

"what is it, mr. gojo?"

he swivels his chair around, and he is a mess—just what could have he been up to?

"i woke up late today."

"you're the boss, mr. gojo. you can come in any time you want—"

"not the point." he interrupts you. "i forgot my lunch. i was in the car, with the driver, on the way here already. . . and then i realised i left my donuts at home."

gojo's face is absolutely distraught. he looks like he's gone through a divorce and had his house set on fire with how he stands up dramatically—his hands now on his desk. you open your mouth to speak, but he shuts you up by talking again.

"i didn't want to inconvenience him. i'm too thoughtful, miss y/n."

you want to scoff, but you bite your tongue and hold back.

"so i got out of the car and ran back for it," gojo recounts. "i arrived home after the treacherous journey—only to discover that my donuts are gone."

you feign an expression of shock, just to humour him; he gives you an 'i know right' look, and continues his nonsensical story.

"the maids threw them away, miss y/n."

you can't help yourself: you let a small giggle slip through your lips. you quickly use your hand to cover your mouth, thinking of a quick excuse.

you cough. you pretend to, at least—but gojo satoru is not stupid.

no, maybe a little. though, not enough to be convinced of your terrible acting.

"nothing about this is funny."

you nod, looking down at the floor. "i apologise, mr. gojo, but it's just a few donuts. i'm sure someone in the office could fetch some for you."

"yes, i agree." he says, and you shift your gaze from the marble tiling of his office to his face. his hair is a mess, yes—but he still looks revoltingly handsome. his eyes are piercing through yours, and pieces of hair cover his face in just the right places.

you're staring a little too long and gojo finds his pulse quickening with the eye contact—but the spell he has you under is soon broken when he clears his throat.

you quickly look away, embarrassed that you were caught staring at your boss, by your boss.

"you'll pick some up for me, yeah?" his smooth and silky voice echoes through the empty space of his office.

you look at him again, and there's a gentle smile on his face; one you're all too familiar with.

you're aware of satoru's charismatic nature, his playboy-ish attitude, and all sorts of tricks he uses to make women fall head over heels for him. that didn't mean you were completely resistant to them, though—you find yourself playing with the sleeves of your blouse, your ears beginning to redden. "of course," is all you manage to say.

at least you were self-aware.

your mind was rational. should gojo satoru try to hit on you for the nth time—all it took was some self discipline to say no, and you'd like to think you had plenty.

you think the conversation is done with the way he doesn't speak another word, so you turn on your heels and make your way out of the office.

just as you touch the handle of the door, your boss adds: "i'll come with you."

you turn back to him, confused. you didn't need your boss babysitting you for a donut run, you knew his favourite flavours—it's all he ever insists on buying for lunch. "there's no need for that, mr. gojo."

satoru shakes his head in disapproval. "you don't even know my favourite flavours, miss y/n."

that was a blatant lie. he knew you knew. you were his personal donut grabber for a few months up until august, and it was only october. you suppose that it would've continued on if not for your complaints about the long lines in the morning.

nevertheless, you don't argue with him. gojo satoru was the type to get what he wants, when he wants, if he really wants it.

you smile at his disregard for the months you spent as his errand runner, and how idiotic the excuse he just used was. satoru knows he's lying through his teeth, and your smile makes him more nervous than your eye contact.

so nervous, in fact, that he takes back what he just said. "unless. . . you're fine by yourself."

you're surprised that gojo's confidence is dissipating, or that it could even fade at all. you can tell with the way he's avoiding your eye contact, exactly how you evaded his earlier—the red on the tips of his ears are much too obvious in contrast to his hair.

"i don't mind," you respond a bit too quicker than appropriate. "mr. gojo."

gojo curses himself mentally, thinking about how stupid he must sound. he's usually the one making people nervous, but he doesn't know why it's different when you look at him like that.

──────

the atmosphere is deafening in gojo's favourite bakery. you always knew he had a sweet tooth, so you expected his choice to be a spectacular one—and you weren't disappointed.

you had personally visited this bakeshop before, and the confectionery was truly as good as people made it out to be; it proved evident in the amount of people crammed into this small establishment. though, you can't tell if it was for the food or for your boss, with the way most pairs of eyes are turned in his direction.

you two spend a good five seconds looking at the menu before gojo states his order, which was exactly what you thought it would be—the lady at the cashier smiles a bit too long at satoru, before asking: "eating in?"

you want to open your mouth to say something, but he beats you to it. "of course."

it was still very well your work day. he (or maybe you and him, considering you helped him plan seventy percent of his appointments) had a meeting in 3 hours to prepare for. you think this donut adventure is already unnecessary enough—but here he is, suggesting to waste even more time eating the donuts in the bakery itself.

"we have a meeting in a bit, though. you could eat it in your office."

he looks at you with a confused look, as if he forgot that there was a meeting at all—because he did forget. gojo gasps, turning back to the lady and retracting his previous statement.

──────

gojo eats his donuts agonisingly slow and no conversation is initiated.

you're alternating between staring at both your laptops and the swirls on the wooden desk, unable to say anything because you didn't plan for such an occasion: an eating donuts with your admittedly handsome boss that makes you nervous while simultaneously planning for an important meeting occasion.

"miss y/n, you should try some."

you shift your eyes from the table to gojo, and he's holding a small piece of his donut to your lips: the powdered sugar practically calling your name.

"it's fine, i ate earlier," you decline his generous offer. "you should eat."

"i'm not asking you to eat all of them, miss y/n." he smiles at you. "just a bite. it's really good, y'know."

you sigh, reaching for his hand to take it from him—but he swiftly pulls it away and shakes his head. "open your mouth."

you feel the tips of your ears burning, blood rushing to your cheeks and you wonder how the girls he takes out manage themselves when he's like this—you've worked with him for so long, yet you can't recall a time when his gaze wouldn't make you shudder.

you think you'd stutter if you spoke one more word to him, so you save yourself from the embarrassment and bare with his request.

he feeds you the piece of sugar-coated donut, and you're sure you have powder on the corners of your lips with how it's width barely fits into your mouth.

you chew and swallow, feeling the residue of sugar on your skin.

"do you have any tissues?" you ask him, a serious expression plastered onto your face.

gojo tries to suppress the chuckle itching to escape his throat—the sugar on your lips and cheeks catch him off guard, and after a few seconds he can't help but let a small laugh slip. you stand up from your chair, scanning the room for any boxes of tissues you could lay your hands on.

he stands up as well, shaking his head—still giggling.

"it's not funny," you frown, and the smile on his face only grows wider—you're too cute for your own good when you sulk. "stop laughing."

you're not sure if you want to punch him or let him giggle to himself. for some reason, seeing you embarrassed is a great cause of joy to him. you can't bring yourself to tell him to shut up; you always imagine doing just that, it's strange how you couldn't muster the courage just when you needed it most.

"it's quite funny," gojo's laughter eventually calms down.

he leans closer to you and his right hand gently holds the side of your jaw—he uses his thumb to gently wipe the sugar off your cheek, and then your lips. "i got it."

his thumb stays on your bottom lip after dusting the sugar away. his pupils are locked onto the surface of your lips, which were glossy in the harsh light of his office: they looked so soft.

before long, they trail up your face until he's looking directly into your eyes: and this time you're not nervous, you don't look away, and your heart is completely calm.

satoru's fingers are easy on your skin. he handles you like fragile glass, as if he doesn't want to break you: and it's the same for the way he looks at you. gentle.

you're reluctant to speak because the way satoru has his thumb on your bottom lip sends shivers down your spine. you feel breathless.

you don't want this feeling to leave, not just yet.

a few seconds of tension pass. his hand moves back to your jaw, and your nervousness returns when gojo satoru leans his tall figure even closer to you; his head tilting ever so slightly.

it's a random thursday morning when you discover a few more good qualities gojo satoru possesses: his lips and his hands. maybe the way he kisses, too—it's slow and precise, unlike his attitude. he tastes sickeningly sweet and it makes you want to savour this moment even more.

you promised yourself you wouldn't fall victim to gojo satoru. yet, you just can't pull away: instead finding yourself slithering your arms around his neck and your chest pressing against his.

gojo's hands are wandering down to your waist and he's desperate to have you as close to him as possible, showing in the way he tries to close the already small gap between you two.

it takes only a fraction of a second for a small thought to form in your mind: just how many women have been in this position?

you quickly forget about that thought, though—you think it's pointless to regret it now, gojo satoru kisses you too good to be full of remorse.

gojo thinks he could stay like this: kiss you all morning, afternoon and pay you overtime if it meant he could be this close to you for just a bit longer.

there's hints of neediness in gojo's touch—as if he'd been waiting for this forever, wanting to relish it before it ends. his few seconds of bliss don’t last very long though, because you're soon pulling away—gasping for air.

he sighs mockingly, his hands sliding down from your waist to your hips. "can't last longer than 10 seconds, miss y/n?"

of course he would say some cocky shit like that—you'd forgotten for a minute that this was the same, arrogant mr. gojo you always knew, and no kiss (however heavenly) was going to change that.

"i'm sorry that i don't go on dates with every man that breathes."

gojo smirks at you after you say those words. "come on. just because i go on dates with people, doesn't mean i kiss them like this."

"sure you don't." your jealousy shows a bit too much in your reply, and he finds himself smiling even harder.

"is someone jealous?" he teases you again, rubbing circles with his thumb against the flesh of your hips.

you feel flustered, knowing that you're definitely done for now—he saw right through you. "nobody is jealous, mr. gojo."

"stop it with the formality. just call me satoru."

"it's still office hours. it's only polite."

gojo rolls his eyes, sighing in the process. you grin a little at him, knowing that this was the first thing you denied him of today—complying with the donuts and the kissing was already spoiling him enough.

"then i suppose there's only after work," there's his nauseatingly charming voice again—low and smooth. he knows exactly what he's doing to you, and you know it too. "i'm off after 6."

you think long and hard about whether you want to be mean and add this to the list of things you've declined to do for him. the ratio was starting to get really unbalanced—but you remember the way his hands touch you and how his lips greet yours so lovingly: and you think that there's no point turning back now.

"my boss doesn't let me off until after 8, though." you try to poke at his buttons—you put on a fake pout, knowing you’ll accept his invitation anyway—but gojo satoru is eternally patient when it came to things he sincerely desired.

"fuck your boss." he says, "he'll be fine with it."

you laugh at his response. you never thought you would see the day gojo curses at himself, after all, he's so self-obsessed: but you suppose you've seen—and tasted—parts of him that you never knew existed.

"then i'll see you at 6, mr. gojo."

what was the harm in discovering more?

230323 — i kinda hate this but.. wtv… anyway i couldn’t be bothered to proofread have my brainrot of gojo in a suit Mmmm yumyum

#jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x reader fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x reader fluff #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagine #jjk imagines #gojo imagine #gojo imagines #gojo x y/n #gojo x you

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mediocre-daydreams · 2 years

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𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬

remus lupin x animagus!reader

𝚜𝚎��𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 : 𝚠��𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚢, 𝚒 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠

summary: snape makes an unwise decision that places all six of you in danger. confronted with your mortality, remus makes a risky decision of his own.

notes: i’m back bitches and babes. sry it's been like 3 weeks and now i have covid so chapter quality is looking questionable but atp i really wanna finish this series and im so done w sad remus

w/c: 8.0k

･ﾟ⋆☾*･ﾟ.・。.*゜✭・･ﾟ✫・⋆。.

wait for the signal and i’ll meet you after dark show me the places where the others gave you scars

“thumper!” sirius lept to his feat, waving you and remus over with enthusiasm. “and hey moony, i guess.”

you laughed. “padfoot. it’s horrible to see you, as usual.”

“likewise, m’lady,” sirius grinned, tipping an invisible hat to you. “and i hope you’ve been having the worst day, my good sir.”

remus rolled his eyes, pursing his lips to hide his amusement. his hand, the one on the arm he’d draped over your shoulder, squeezed your bicep. he glanced down, admiring the hypnotic movement of your lips as you bantered lightly with sirius.

“moony?” peter taunted, drawing out the vowels.

“hm?” remus startled, forcing his face into something resembling nonchalance.

peter looked at sirius knowingly. sirius sucked his teeth. “nothing. c’mon, trelawney says we’re reading tea leaves today and i want to sit next to the cabinet so we get first pick.”

you and remus settled into adjacent cushions. he smiled at you, tired but just as adoring as always. if there was anything positive that had come from the horrendous past series of events, it was the new freeness remus granted himself around you. he stopped restraining his affection and withdrawing his touches; the fear of blood supremacist attacks had made everyone aware of how uncertain their time was, and remus refused to leave this earth without having been able to love you.

“ready to see the future?” you whispered to remus, fiddling with his thick, calloused fingers as trelawney meandered around the room passing out teacups.

“what do you think you’ll see?” remus hummed contentedly. his eyelids fluttered closed as you ran your fingertips over his rough knuckles. he would never get used to the feeling of touching you. if he were smarter, less selfish, he never would’ve let himself know what it was like in the first place.

“i think i’ll see us at hogsmeade next weekend, buying out the entire chocolate frog restock,” you decided, finally closing remus’ hands into fists and holding onto him without fiddling. “and then i think i’ll see us on your bed surrounded by empty boxes and making fun of peter’s lousy card collection.”

remus shivered. us. ‘us’ as in us, the marauders, or ‘us’ as in you and me?

“you and me, of course!” you swatted his knee. “please, do you really think i’d spend a fortune on chocolate with james? no, it’s you. only you, rem.”

it was unfair, remus thought, the effect you had on him without even knowing it. it was unfair how easily you could catch him off guard and how he didn’t even care.

james gagged. “you’re revolting, mate,” james kneed remus’ leg with enough force to leave a bruise.

“i didn’t even say anything!” remus protested. you, sirius, and peter laughed at him as james stared him down smugly.

“you don’t need to say anything to embarrass yourself, moony. you’ve gone soft these days,” peter snickered.

you smirked, sending remus into another spiral. “i think it’s a cute look on you, though.”

remus was met with more laughter as the heat hit his cheeks; he imagined his face was bright red at this point.

“i suppose you five have already finished your readings?” trelawney scowled, distributing your teacups (which were visibly lower quality than the rest) with disapproval.

“no, sorry professor,” you bowed your head, flipping your textbook open. trelawney sniffed, brushing past you. when she passed, you looked up at remus through your eyelashes and bit your lip mischievously. he felt his stomach tug.

it was moments like these—where he could sit in a classroom and pretend like his bones weren’t going to break and reform into a monstrous form tonight, peacefully observing the sunlight cast over your eyelashes or the flutter of your shirt collar from the mysterious, sourceless breeze—that remus was most afraid of. these moments scared him because each time he’d let himself fall into the delusion that maybe he could be normal enough, good enough, safe enough to be with you, and remus knew that entertaining these sorts of thoughts could be dangerous. they were dangerous and had already proven themself so.

“-chamomile, your favorite!” remus was shaken from his conscious at the feeling of your hand tapping against his thigh. you held out a cup of tea to remus’ chest. with a flourish of your wand over the rim of remus’ teacup and your own, the curling steam settled into the air and the beverage cooled into a drinkable temperature.

“are y’ready?” you murmured between sips. “for tonight, i mean.”

remus shrugged. “i kinda have to be, don’t i?” he tried not to let his gaze linger on your lips pressed against the porcelain. “but yeah, i’m ready. i just want you to know that you don’t have to-”

you scoffed. “oh, don’t pull this again. we go through the same routine every time and you know i’ll always win, rem. i love you. i’m coming.”

remus was once again forced to believe in the unfairness of it all—how could you so easily, so plainly, so naturally say those words? how could you feel that way and how could you say it out loud, when remus, well, remus wasn’t sure if he was brave enough to label how he felt towards you.

this was the pattern. remus would tell you how you didn’t have to, but you’d tell him you loved him and that you wanted to, and remus would be unable to tell you the same, and you’d treat him with such kindness and patience that all remus wanted to do was smother you in his adoration but why couldn’t he?

“is that a foot?” peter grimaced, holding his teacup closer to his eye. “godric, i think it is.”

“a foot? wormtail, don’t tell me you’re into that kind of-”

“no!” peter blushed, waving off james, who was his partner. “just- what does it mean?”

you and remus’ conversation halted as you looked over at your friends’ table with intruige. james flipped through his textbook until landing on something that satisfied him. “aha! it says ‘the foot’ represents… powerful sexual desire and strength in passion? gross, wormy!”

peter recoiled. “what? no way, then it must not be a foot. maybe it’s a hand?”

you began searching through your own textbook. “i found it! ‘the hand’ means fertility and youthfulness… children may be in your future? wormtail, is there something you need to tell us?”

“n-no! merlin, i don’t know what’s happening, i swear-”

sirius snatched the teacup from peter’s nervous grasp. “well, i think it’s a jellyfish.” sirius cleared his throat, reading from his book. “exciting developments in the near future,” sirius read. “that sounds better.”

“that’s boring,” you frowned. “c’mon, lets read ours.” you downed the last of your tea and handed your cup to remus in exchange for his own.

remus swirled the dregs of your leaves, watching as they settled into a star- no, an ‘x.’

“it’s a stop sign,” remus said, looking up from his book in confusion. “a metaphorical one. you’re supposed to pause on your ‘life journey,’ or something.”

you paused, considering the reading’s possible significance. “huh. let me see?” you turned the cup around and furrowed your brow. “i dunno, rem. it looks kind of like ‘the anchor’ to me. see, it curves over here.”

“what does it mean, then?”

you flipped through your book. “stability. despite the state of your environment, there will come stability.” you looked at remus questioningly. “do you believe it?”

he shook his head, amused.

“anyway, yours is a moon—shocker—and it means that, uh,” you coughed, double-taking the page, “there will be developments in your love life.”

remus laughed awkwardly, taking his cup back from you. he purposely let his fingers brush over yours and linger, childish of a flirting tactic as it may be. “that’s good to know,” he smiled shyly. “i’ve been trying to get better at the whole love thing, anyway.”

“yeah. yeah, good to know,” you ran your tongue over your bottom lip absentmindedly; your voice trailed off and you pouted at the ground. remus wanted to take your face in his hand and kiss you breathless, but he couldn’t because that would be admitting to himself that he was madly in love with you and had been for the past year and if he let you in he would be putting you in danger and he’d rather die before watching you suffer so much as a papercut you were in class.

madam pomfrey rubbed remus’ shoulders, pushing her thumbs into the knots of his muscles with the precision of a mother who knew her son’s body. remus let himself exhale audibly, letting his guard down for the brief seconds he could spare. he’d been trying hard not to let snape’s side eyes and the slytherins’ jeering comments get under his skin, but he was only human, after all.

“how are you feeling, remus?” the kind woman brushed a few strands of remus’ soft hair from his forehead. in the months prior, remus had noticed a shift in their relationship; madam pomfrey seemed to hace developed a parental sort of pride over the boy who seemed happier and happier after each transformation.

“i’m okay,” remus nodded, clearing his throat. “i’ve been tried of late, but i think it’s just the full moon, yeah.”

madam pomfrey tutted. “my poor boy; you’re always overworking yourself. those friends of yours—they’re always here after your transformations. they’re not wearing you thin, are they?”

“no, if anything, they’re like four more mothers.”

“good.” madam pomfrey swatted remus’ arm affectionately. “godric knows you need to take care of yourself more. i’ll never understand why dumbledore thinks it’s okay for you to return to classes the day after…” madam promfrey rubbed her hands together, checking the pockets of her medical robes for everything she might need. “and that lady friend of yours… miss y/l/n? she’s got quite the healer’s hand,” pomfrey casually dropped, pretending to busy herself with meaningless handiwork.

“i s’ppose,” remus muttered, trying to keep his voice steady. madam pomfrey was one of the delights in remus’ life—he’d never really had a mother figure before and even these brief chats with the school nurse before each full moon were enough to satisfy that desire—but he found himself slowly hating this turn of conversation.

“she’ll be around tomorrow morning, i presume?”

“i mean, maybe.”

madam pomfrey made a choking sound that was obviously a failed attempt to hide a laugh. “we’ll see about that, dear. now, can i get you-”

“-remus!” your lovely voice bounced through the otherwise quiet hospital wing as you pushed through the large doors, which slammed behind you dramatically. you paid them no mind. “hi!” you were breathless; hair slightly out of place.

“bun?” remus smiled, surprised but pleased. “what’re you doing here? aren’t you s’pposed to be getting ready to- getting ready for that test?”

“oh, well yeah,” you waved off, “but i wanted to bring you something first. um, i know everything’s really… shit right now, and i’ve been reading this book and i wanted to leave it here for you for tomorrow morning so that you wouldn’t be lonely. ‘jus thought you deserved something nice.”

you weren’t bashful, not in the slightest, and remus was once more stunned by the ease in which you let your feelings show. he remembered nights with you from months before, when he’d fall asleep with his eyebrows furrowed wondering if he’d done something wrong because you’d pull away and refuse to tell him what was on your mind. he wondered how it was possible that you could still find it in yourself to feel even at a time when your emotions were being scrutinized and shamed by bellatrix and snape and the likes of the slytherin house. he wondered if it was because you were extraordinary or if it was just because he was a coward.

“the shining?” remus huffed, running his fingers over the slightly bent but well-cared-for spine. you nodded.

“yeah, you got something against horror?”

“no, i just didn’t peg you for a horror buff.” remus tilted his head, the ghost of a smile adorning his face as he let his gaze linger on all the planes of your face.

“what can i say? i’m full of surprises.” you clicked your tongue. “remember that night we were doing potions? and i got all snappy with you?”

“how could i forget? you’re cute when you’re angry.”

you didn’t acknowledge his statement and began to pace in front of him. “well, i- you make me feel things—i feel a lot of things when i’m around you, remus—and i just want you to know that i’ve decided to stop… to stop not letting myself feel them. if you couldn’t already tell.” you cracked your knuckles nervously. “i just wanted to tell you ‘cause, well i dunno, with everything that’s going on and what people are saying… i didn’t want you to hear about my feeling from anybody but me.”

remus swallowed thickly, placing one hand on your forearms to stop your pacing. he slid his hand down until it covered yours; his fingers were cautious as they wrapped around your wrist. “are they giving you trouble? the slytherins?” his voice was hoarse with worry.

“nah, i can stand up for myself,” you teased lightheartedly. “but seriously, i need you to know that whatever people are saying about me? it’s probably- it’s not true, okay?”

remus eyed you, squinting ever so slightly. he’d been caught up in his own worries about snape and schoolwork that he’d hardly heard anything about you floating around the hallways. “okay, i’ll keep that in mind,” he reassured you. “i do have to, uh, go now.”

your eyes widened. “you’re right! sorry, i’ll get going too. see you… later.”

remus watched as you scampered out the hospital wing and his grip tightened around the book you’d given him. madam pomfrey coughed from somewhere behind him and remus turned, pursing his lips at the woman’s raised eyebrow.

madam pomfrey didn’t say anything; she didn’t need to. “ready to go?”

“sure,” remus said. he didn’t have a choice.

the trek down to the willow was peaceful; well, it would’ve been if it weren’t for its implications. the breeze raised goosebumps on remus’ arms and he almost wanted to run back and warn the four of you to bring coats before realizing that this was no normal outdoor escapade. the five of you would be in illegal animal forms for the night and second layers would not be necessary.

madam pomfrey wished remus good luck like she did each month, and remus lips tightened into a forced, bitter smile. usually he found the statement ironic because of how meaningless it was—there wasn’t anything he or anyone could do to ensure a good transformation—but today he found it ironic because for the first time, he found himself accepting it. he could do with a stroke of good luck, as unrealistic as it may be.

you, sirius, james, and peter had become much better at sneaking out since your first night. your front paws were placed on the top of padfoot’s head as you stood on your hind legs at the junction of his neck and torso; it was the most stable position you’d found. james had found a spell to silence the clicking of prongs’ hooves through the corridor, and padfoot knew how to control the wagging of his tail which used to disturb the invisibility cloak.

maybe it was your experience that would lead you to your downfall.

“can i copy someone’s potions homework?” prongs swung his head to peek around a corner and the cloak shifted over all four of you. “and by that, i mean thumper. but i feel like it’s justified this time around! i’m busy committing very dangerous and illegal acts!”

you clicked your rabbit teeth. “if i can do my homework and make it in time to transform, you can too.”

“go easy on prongs now, we all know he’s a bit slower than the rest,” wormtail chattered. “but if you do end up sharing your homework, i think it’s only fair that i get a look too. just saying.”

you would never not be grateful for your friends’ ability to loosen up a situation that would otherwise be dark and heavy. there were nights where you’d come back from a transformation battered and worn, but the four of you knew to put on a brave face for remus. it was your moony, after all. it was no chore to look after him—it would never be, not when it was remus.

“hurry up, would’ya? i’m itchy and i can’t do anything about it when thumper’s on my back,” padfoot whined. you could feel his muscles clench and unclench under you.

the night was cool and windier than usual. you ditched the cloak as soon as you were outside, and padfoot shook himself out and rolled on the ground as soon as you hopped off his back. there were blades of dewy grass stuck to his black fur when he was finished stretching, and he made a big show of rubbing them off on prongs, who nickered in displeasure.

or maybe it was your confidence that would lead you to your downfall.

wormtail scampered through the damp vegetation at the base of the whomping willow, following well-practiced choreography. when the willow’s branches began to slow, going from wild whipping to threatening turns to apprehensive waves, the four of you pushed forward in a familiar routine. it was almost peaceful at this point. the wind whistled and sent leaves twirling through the air and you could make out the rustling of other out-of-sight forest creatures. it looked like you’d be having company tonight.

“moony?” prongs was the first to proceed. his size made him the slowest, and after he almost got caught in one of the willow’s feisty branches closer to its trunk as it began to wake. you realized it was best to have the largest of you go first.

“could you be any slower?” padfoot whined, pawing the dirt impatiently. “i swear, it’s been months and you still can’t figure out the damn skewers on your fat head.”

“oi!” prongs complained. “watch yourself! who almost made us late ‘cos he was too busy oiling his roots?”

padfoot barked in dissent as you and wormtail silently basked in the cheerful atmosphere. finally, prongs was through the entrance and padfoot began his turn slinking through, hunching his back and ducking his head. you and wormtail slipped through with ease, completely unbothered.

all the silencing enchantments you’d cast had long worn off and you knew remus would be able to hear your approach even without enhanced hearing. the volume of your steps, which were already loud and firm, was enhanced by the emptiness of the dim concrete path leading to the shrieking shack. each one of your steps was lost amidst the storming of the others as you rushed to greet remus.

maybe it was your carelessness—or a combination of all the follies of the marauders—that was your downfall. none of you noticed snape creeping ten steps behind, wand gripped tightly in his hand and jaw clenched.

the four of you de-transformed once you reached the shack and you rushed to remus’ side as soon as you laid eyes on him.

“rem!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around his neck as if you hadn’t seen him in weeks. remus took a few stumbling steps backward in surprise before wrapping his arms under yours and pulling you closer. your heels lifted from the ground until remus was fully suspending you in the air, only allowing your toes to brush the ground.

“woah, where’s my love?” sirius flung his hands in the air with exasperation. “i swear, you’re not even trying to hide the favoritism these days.”

peter pretended to frown. “what happened to best mates? are the three of us no longer your best mates, or did thumper just get a promotion?”

you wriggled out of remus’ embrace and steadied yourself on your feet. “you’ve got to apply for a promotion, wormtail. and won’t you look at that, you’ve got to submit a resume too! that means you have to do work.”

james mimicked your voice in an octave higher. “blah blah blah, i’m thumper and i’m a complete suck up-”

“aw, leave her alone,” chuckled, curling an arm around your back and resting his hand on the indent of your waist. “look at that face. how can you find it in yourself to tease her?” remus pinched your cheek, tugging at the skin patronizingly.

you scoffed, slapping his hand. “excuse me? this face didn’t get out of bed to keep you company for nothing, y’know?”

remus softened, releasing the flesh of your cheek and rubbing soothing circles into the skin he’d just pinched. “i know. i know, and i’m so thankful.”

peter pretended to vomit. “anyway, if we’re done with the lovefest, can-”

there was a sudden crash from further down the tunnel. five heads whipped toward the sound, though nothing came forth. james’ eyes darted from remus’ to the closed door and he began to creep closer apprehensively.

“what’s going on?” sirius whispered nervously.

“i’d tell you if i knew, but i don’t think any of us bloody know, padfoot,” peter hissed.

you fumbled for your wand but came up empty, and you cursed your past self for becoming too comfortable. “does anyone have their wand on them?” you were met with negatives. james was the only one to procure a wand. he did so with shaky hands; he pointed his wand toward the door and you could see his shoulders tense.

“oh fuck it,” remus cursed under his breath. “who’s there?” he shouted. james shot him a dirty glare.

there was no response.

“if there was someone there, do you really think they’d respond?” peter rolled his eyes.

“so what do we do? lock the door? open it? transform?” james looked frantically between each of his frazzled friends. “how much time do we have before the full moon?”

“not enough,” you grumbled, peering out the window at a tauntingly bright sky. “it doesn’t matter. there’s nothing we can do about it now. just transfor; we’ll figure it out after.”

sirius looked at you warily but followed your lead. four animagi stood in front of remus who stared into the air in front of him, disossiated.

you rubbed your forehead against remus’ shoe. your ears pushed flat against the top of your head, and remus looked down at you fondly. prongs, even as an animagi, stood closest to the door protectively, never taking his eyes off the unsteady plank of wood.

there was a horrible cracking accompanied by remus’ howl of pain and you knew the transformation had begun. hopping back, you watched sadly as remus writhed on the ground, eyebrows furrowed and chest heaving. you could lessen the pain of his time as a werewolf, but there was nothing you could do to ease the transformation.

you tore your eyes from the awful sight in time to watch wormtail scurry past james and wriggle under the door with determined curiosity and your heart lept, freezing midair and lodging itself in your throat.

“wormtail!” you found yourself thumping your feet against your will. your panic was drowned out by the sound of remus’ pain.

no sooner had you spoke did wormtail re-enter the room, beady eyes unnaturally wide and glossy with terror. a chill ran through your body. whatever was out there, regardless of how dangerous the mysterious presence could be, it was going to be an even bigger problem than anticipated. remus was still transforming. someone was going to end up very, very hurt.

“it’s snape.”

remus’s strained cries were now replaced with moony’s heavy breathing, and padfoot’s erratic barking was the new chaotic noise to fill the air. prongs looked wild, snorting and shaking and stomping wildly.

you found yourself scampering toward moony, claws leaving visible scratches on the floor in your haste. you positioned yourself in front of him protectively, as silly as it might seem, instinctively. you didn’t know why you did; it wasn’t like you could protect moony better than he could protect himself, and it wasn’t moony who needed protection. it was snape, who was in danger of being torn to shreds of slytherin meat at any moment.

“fuck. shit. i’m gonna de-transform and get him out,” prongs decided. “padfoot, thumper—keep him distracted. wormtail, make sure nobody sees anything.”

for all the four of you liked to joke about james’ intelligence, the boy was undeniably quick-witted and brave.

prongs took a hesitant step forward but stepped back, finding himself frozen in the middle of the room. before anyone could mutter encouragement, prongs had charged at the door, throwing it open to reveal a petrified snape at the doorway.

moony immediately began to growl, a deep, gravelly noise that couldn’t be interpreted as anything but a deadly threat. you watched as prongs took a bundle of severus’ robe in his mouth and began to make a break down the corridor, dragging the out-of-place boy behind him. wormtail followed suit, scurrying past prongs and snape and toward the castle in a blur.

padfoot stepped forward, growling in response. his lips pulled back, revealing a row of sharp canines. but they held nothing against moony’s fangs, which gleamed with saliva and malicious predatory instinct. padfoot jumped back and forth in front of the werewolf, who was utterly transfixed by the empty space where snape had been standing.

moony, who was beginning to seem less like moony and more like a primitive animal, stared padfoot down with narrowed eyes. hot, rancid breath hit your face, and you could no longer see moony in the eyes of the werewolf in front of you—in all your full moons together, moony had never been faced with a human presence. neither of the five of you was prepared for such a situation.

the werewolf snarled, shoving padfoot to the side with one large paw, and stalked forward with its mind made up. it disappeared through the doorframe, and you and padfoot chased after him in desperation. if the werewolf was aware of your trail—which he must’ve been—it didn’t turn to acknowledge or stop the two of you. it sped up, paws hitting the ground with more fervor as clouds of dust began to kick up in its wake.

“moony!” you could hear padfoot’s pleading barks as he tried to stand his ground in front of the werewolf, unsuccessfully attempting to use himself as a distraction. you sprinted around the scene, curving a larger arc to the side of padfoot and the werewolf’s showdown until you were placed between them and prongs’ retreating figure. you felt helpless; there wasn’t much you could physically do, and it seemed impossible to get through to moony.

the werewolf snarled, licking its lips hungrily and lunging at padfoot who lept out of the way in time to avoid any major injuries. that left the space in front of the werewolf free, and it charged forward unrestrained. you rushed to padfoot’s side and found him licking up the length of his arm, which in the moonlight, glistened with blood.

“padfoot!” it seemed that all anyone could do was call out names. “pads, are you okay? what should i do? how bad is it?”

“i’m fine!” padfoot insisted. “go after moony!”

you needed no further instruction, turning on your heel and bounding toward the castle with long, graceful leaps. you could hear padfoot shakily rise to his feet behind you, and you shoved aside any lingering feelings of guilt.

a shrill howl pierced the air, and you saw the werewolf’s silhouette in front of you. sitting on its haunches and waving its head side to side, rough fur rippling from the harsh wind, it sniffed loudly as it tried to track. the wind seemed to have disrupted snape’s trail of scent and the werewolf seemed slightly frustrated as it circled the grounds, grunting and panting.

you approached with caution, ready to make your escape at any moment. prongs and padfoot were the physically useful ones, and wormtail was an excellent scout, but your prowess had always been getting through to moony. you supposed it was a little different this time. this was not your moony.

you thumped your feet but the sound was quickly eaten up by the werewolf’s chaos. “hey!” you moved forward, grunting and stomping. “moony! remus! remus!”

the werewolf didn’t lower his head; you weren’t a threat. you were too insignificant to even be an annoyance. it continued to scan its surroundings for its chosen prey, leaving you disregarded at its feet. stomping was futile. the werewolf wouldn’t be able to hear you, and it likely wouldn’t care. it was too entranced by its mission, and it was the worst possible mission it could’ve set its mind to. you knew that if remus woke up the next day having hurt someone—potentially even killing someone—he’d never forgive himself. you’d never forgive yourself for letting it happen.

the clicking of falling rocks stole both your and the werewolf’s attention. prongs was tugging on snape’s robes and in his haste, tripped both of them over a stone step, landing them in a heap of legs and limbs. prongs stumbled to his feet and whined impatiently for snape to recover; the boy was on his hands and knees as he scrambled up the stairs.

the werewolf’s breathing deepened and slowly lowered into a rumble. you could feel the pounding of your heart in every part of your body—rabbits were physically incapable of processing too much adrenaline, and you were seriously beginning to worry that you’d be taken out by stress instead of an injury.

the werewolf’s knee bent in your peripheral and you knew it was about to run. it was stupid. it was reckless. you threw yourself at one of the werewolf’s front paws and bit with as much force as you could, running your nails down the side of its leg. thin gashes accompanied by beads of blood were left in the wake, but it was nothing compared to what the werewolf had done to padfoot.

you were, unsurprisingly, thrown to the side like a minor inconvenience. your heart stuttered, your paws slashed through the air for a grip that you wouldn’t find, and you landed on the ground with a soft thud, skidding with small jumps until your descent was finally stopped by a cool boulder.

it had been a while since remus had woken up after a full moon in such bad shape. his eyelids were sticky as he blinked himself into consciousness, becoming aware of the pressure of bandages wrapped tightly around his left arm and the sting of disinfecting ointment spread across the entirety of his right hand.

madam pomfrey was by his side in an instant. her eyes were heavy with sleeplessness and laced with poorly concealed fear. “remus?” she whispered in a shaky breath. when he blinked up at her, she lifted her head and called to another presence in the room. “he’s awake!”

a flurry of footsteps made their way to remus’ bedside and he was greeted by the anxious faces of james, sirius, and peter. james’ head was bandaged; his hair was squished and not tousled from the wrap that adorned his scraped forehead. he smiled crookedly at remus, who blinked away more fog.

“what happened to you?” remus rasped, thumping his chest as he coughed phlegm from his throat.

peter, who looked the least scathed, opened and closed his mouth nervously. “you had a bad night, moony.”

remus frowned. he could feel the evidence of a bad night, that was for sure.

“how much do you remember?” sirius’ voice was dry and quiet. his arms were bandaged as well and he sported a bruise on his cheekbone, just below his left eye.

“not enough,” remus grumbled, pushing himself up onto his forearms. “where’s thumper?”

the three boys looked at each other oddly. james spoke. “you don’t remember anything? at all?”

“not right now, i’m sure it’ll come to me,” remus frowned. “where’s thumper?”

peter chewed his lip. “i think you should lay back down, you-”

“hey, i’m serious, where’s y/n?”

“miss y/l/n is stable, remus,” madam pomfrey said from a bed further down the row where remus lay. “she just went back to sleep.”

“she’s hurt?” remus hurried to a sitting position, craning his neck in the direction of madam pomfrey’s voice to catch sight of you. “what happened? did i hurt her?”

there was no answer given to remus in a satisfying amount of time, so he swung his legs over the side of his bed and stubbornly tried to walk over to your side in search for his own answers. his knees buckled almost immediately, and sirius caught him before he could fall with a grip so tight remus felt like it was cutting off circulation.

“let me see her, damn it!” remus stumbled forward, using sirius as an unwilling crutch. remus’ breath hitched as he approached, the details of your face becoming more and more defined. your lip was split, chapped and red and scabbing on one side. most of your body was covered by one of the hospital wing’s itchy blankets, but remus could make out angry, inflamed discoloration crawling from your collarbones down the exposed part of your arms. your under eyes were dark with fatigue.

“merlin…” remus breathed, extending a trembling, tender hand to brush over your cheek. your eyelids fluttered as he ran his touch over a small bruise, and he winced at the pain he’d inflicted—again.

“it was… yeah, it was pretty bad,” james confirmed grimly. “snape was there,” he whispered under his breath.

remus stiffened as memories of last night flashed through his mind in splintered, nightmarish fragments.

snape was running into the safety of the castle walls. the doors slammed shut, and a stag whirled around to find himself face to face with the werewolf—with remus. remus didn’t feel in control of his body as he roared in foreign hostility toward his best friend. he lunged, furious at the escape of his prey, only to feel his chest light on fire. the stag lowered his head and charged forward, stabbing his antlers into the werewolf’s torso. the werewolf—remus?—no, the werewolf was howling.

the werewolf licked its wounds as it backed away in shock. it whimpered and sobbed, pawing at his chest that was matted with dark blood and decorated with puncture wounds. he heard similarly pitiful cries from nearby. they belonged to a dog, who was limping unsteadily toward a third figure. a rabbit lay motionless by a rough boulder, on top of which was perched a squeaking rat on its hind legs.

the black dog collapsed at the rabbit’s side, nudging it with its nose. the trio of animals was joined by the stag, who bent its legs and sat gracefully beside its companions. and that’s when remus realized that these were not just animals, but his animagi friends. remus—moony—padded closer, only to be greeted by a menacing growl. padfoot had stumbled to his feet and fixed his heels in front of your body protectively, blocking you from moony’s line of sight. padfoot crouched and lowered his stomach to the ground, taking an active defensive stance.

moony retreated to an observational distance, fighting his mental blank as he slowly came to his bearings. he watched as prongs dipped his head and saw peter appear in place of his animagi form to crouch over your limp body. peter pressed the back of his hand to your forehead and then his fingers to your wrist, checking for a pulse. there was visible relief in all three of the conscious animagi’s faces when peter found it.

peter stood with the still body of a rabbit in his arms, flanked by two territorial animals who stared moony down warily. peter’s thumb rubbed between the rabbit’s ears, which twitched. moony vaguely remembered having done the same action… when? he was a werewolf, after all…

remus felt sirius’ hands around his own. sirius was flattening remus’ balled hands, freeing his fingers from the chokehold fist remus had unknowingly imprisoned them in. small crescent moons were indented into his palms.

“she’s awake, right?” remus’ eyes were pleading as they locked with madam pomfrey’s. she nodded, stroking your wrist dotingly.

“she was asking for you, y’know,” peter blurted. “the minute she woke up, she wanted to know how you were doing. she cares about you a lot, moony. everyone knows it. we know you care about her too.”

remus didn’t speak, electing to busy himself watching the steady, reliable rise and fall of your chest.

“you could break that girl’s heart and i don’t think she’d ever look at you with anything but complete adoration,” sirius added.

“i don’t want to break her heart,” remus murmured.

“that’s why you should tell her,” james pitched.

remus looked up at him. “tell her what?”

james scoffed. “are you kidding? you’re fucking- for fuck’s sake.” james stood from a visitor’s chair and flung his arms in the air with exasperation. “fucking figure it out yourself, moony.”

remus looked at his lap wordlessly. his legs were still and unmoving and his feet were planted firmly on the floor.

you love her, you coward. you love her. you’re in love with her. it’s too late now. you tried, you failed, and now you have to suffer the consequences. or more accurately, she’ll have to suffer the consequences. but you love her, remus. you love her.

remus pinched the bridge of his nose, letting the temporary pain ground him.

“i’m getting breakfast,” sirius announced suddenly. “so, bye.” he left plainly and unceremoniously with peter in suit. remus watched them leave in confusion, only to be answered by a strange look from james and his own exit.

madam pomfrey left you—and remus, who decided he needed to see you awake and alive with his own eyes to believe it—alone soon after the boys’ departures. save the shuffling of parchment from pomfrey’s desk and the occasional grinding of mortar and pestle, the hospital wing was eerily quiet. remus felt his eyes droop. his body begged him for sleep and he tried to stave off the chemical signals.

remus’ attention was captured by a book on your bedside table. the shining. a mirthless chuckle escaped him. he picked up the book, testing its weight in his hands, and found it much lighter than he’d originally remembered. remus’ body, in general, was much lighter than he remembered it. it was like he was on a permanent buzz, floating somewhere between present and past. he imagined ghosts feeling a similar way.

the first few pages of the book were pristine and for a second, remus feared you might’ve bought the book brand new just for him to read. but as he continued further, he found small annotations inked into the margins in your careful penmanship and smiled. crossing his legs, he allowed himself to indulge in the world of stephen king. it was surprisingly comforting to read horror and lose yourself in a character’s story which was much more horrifying than your own. for a moment, it was like sweet escape.

remus was interrupted mid-action scene by stirring. you groaned and smacked your lips together to rid yourself of cotton mouth. remus perked up.

“love?”

you squinted against the harsh morning light. your face broke into a marvelous beamed when you recognized the face hovering over yours, and you licked your dry lips before you spoke. “remus?”

remus grinned, huffing in relief. he watched as you acquainted yourself, prodding the broken skin of your lip with your tongue and then scratching the back of your neck as you sat straight.

“when’d you wake up?” you croaked, reaching for a glass of water at your bedside which remus beat you to. he held it under your chin, moving the straw in front of you mouth. you let him help you without complaint.

“uh, i dunno. two hours ago? sorry i wasn’t there when you came to.”

“it’s okay. you didn’t miss anything particularly interesting. i threw up, though. it was pretty ugly.”

remus snorted. “cute.” he searched your eyes for any trace of resentment and was unsurprised to find none. he wished that he’d found some form of distaste, though. he almost wanted you to come forth and shove him, scream at him and stomp him to the ground, so he could take the easy way out and bury his feelings again. how weak, weak, weak he was.

you broke remus’ gaze and looked at your crossed fingers instead. “i don’t blame you, y’know. i know that’s what you’re thinking right now.”

“that predictable, huh?”

“uh huh,” you nodded firmly. “and i bet now you’re wondering what sorts of injuries i acquired, like the nosy know-it-all you are.”

remus laughed to himself. “you’re right. and are you gonna tell me the answer?”

“it was a couple broken ribs and a concussion, but i took skele-grow last night and i’m feeling pretty good. could probably play a round of quidditch this afternoon, even.”

“you know i think you’re absolutely beautiful, but bun, you’re not looking pretty good at the moment.” remus reached out to touch your arm tentatively. “…may i?”

with your permission, remus slid up your sleeve and felt his insides plummet.

you laughed forcefully. “it’s okay, i can’t even feel it!” you flopped the arm remus was holding, painted shades of green and yellow from bruising. he gestured to your torso, too nervous to pull up your shirt on his own. you lifted the fabric to reveal pinkened bandages wrapped tightly around your ribs; remus could see indents left by the wrapping still bitten along your skin. whatever was under there would surely scar.

“stop pretending.” remus recoiled even as you dropped your shirt and covered your injury from his view. “stop trying to make me feel better,” he said through clenched teeth. he tried to swallow down his self-hatred. he loved to make things about himself, didn’t he? even as you lay in front of him, injured, all he could think about was how it made him feel. fuck.

“i’m not trying to make you feel better,” you snapped. “are you kidding? remus, are you kidding me? i just told you, i feel better!” remus tugged at his hair. “i hurt you! the proof is on you forever. i- i’ve made you like me.”

you scoffed. “well, i think you’re beautiful remus; i don’t know what you want me to say. you’re talking about a scar like i give a shit; i don’t think less of you for your scars and i’ll be damned if you shame me for mine. ‘cos this is my scar, remus. not yours. and i have no problem with it.”

“godric,” remus’ voice cracked with emotion, “i know you’re lying to me, y/n! you always lie to spare my feelings. i- i can’t trust you anymore.”

your jaw dropped. “why the fuck would i lie to you?”

“because you love me!” remus seethed.

an instantaneous silence wedged itself between you two.

“yeah,” you sniffed angrily, “i do love you.”

remus squeezed his eyes shut. “i know,” he sighed in resignment.

“you know? you’re not gonna- that’s all you’ve got?”

remus shook his head in disbelief. “what do you want me to say? ‘i love you too?’”

“uh, that’d be ideal, yeah!”

“well, i do! i do love you.” remus’ breaths were heavy and he took a slow, steadying one. as he exhaled, he unclenched his jaw and made an effort to slow his erratic heart. “i love you, and i’m sorry i couldn’t put it into words earlier. i- i mean, you understand, don’t you? yesterday, with snape… and i hurt you; i could’ve k- killed someone. there’s so much… bellatrix and i don’t want you to have to deal with me too, you’ve-”

you cut him off with a kiss.

your lips, rough and peeling and tasting faintly of blood were on his, and remus’ lips, hesitant and parted, wasted no time finding their place. there was copper and bitter medicine on his tongue and he probably tasted like morning breath, but the fierce press of your mouth on his seemed to be a much more effective treatment than anything madam pomfrey could’ve prescribed. your hands, vice-like, gripped the fabric of his shirt with possessive hunger. remus’ hands made their way to your waist, the same place he’d found them lingering with increasing frequency as of late. the pads of his fingers dug into your soft skin and he felt you shiver and loosen under his touch. remus always thought you’d been the one casting spells on him, but it seemed he had some power over you too.

slowly, though, rough pulls and firm kisses became breathy, desperate ones. remus’ muffled groan faded into your soft whimpers and your hands which clung to him like a lifeline lifted into wandering touches like you were making sure the boy in front of you was real.

“my love…” remus breathed, pulling his lips away from yours but keeping his proximity by resting his forehead against yours. “y/n…”

“yours,” you mumbled dazedly. “i’m yours, remus, and there’s nothing else you can do. you already have me. i’ve been yours for a long time now. i don’t think i’ll ever not be.”

“i love you,” remus said. “i love you and merlin, i promise i’ll never stop saying it. i just- fuck, you mean everything to me, bun. i’d rather… i’d take on anything if it meant you were okay, but you keep finding ways to run back to me and i do, i really do want you here but not if it means you’re gonna get hurt,” remus babbled. he cupped your cheek with one hand, settling his thumb into the indent of your chin. “you have to promise me that you won’t pull shit like last night again. you-” remus laughed incredulously. “you tried biting me?”

“you’re not the only one who’d do anything, remus,” you huffed. “i was ready to die before i let you wake up with blood on your hands. i know you wouldn’t forgive yourself if you’d hurt snape. that’s who you are.”

“and you didn’t think about what’d happen if it was your blood on my hands?” remus scowled. “merlin, it’s futile, isn’t it? you still don’t know how important you are to me. fuck, you think i’d give a fuck about snape? it’s you, my love. everything i do… everything i care about… it’s only you.”

you slapped both your hands on either side of remus’ face, not returning the favor of his gentleness. you shook his head side to side with vigor. “i love you. isn’t that enough? won’t you stop worrying, just for a bit, and let me love you?”

and you were right, weren’t you? you were always right. remus had nearly ki- you could’ve died last night, and remus would’ve never forgiven himself if he’d let you leave him without knowing just how much you meant to him.

remus slowly pulled your hands from his cheeks. “it’s more than enough,” he said, kissing the backs of each your hands before letting them go. “it’s more than i could ask for. or deserve.”

“we’ll work on this self-esteem issue of yours later,” you scolded, to which remus smiled sheepishly. “just shut up and hold me, please.”

･ﾟ⋆☾*･ﾟ.・。.*゜✭・･ﾟ✫・⋆。.

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