#the boys got chances in death that they never got in life
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“ Between life and death, death is tempting ”
First act: “From the roots”
Prologue: “Happy fifteenth birthday! (Again?)”
WARNING: Mention of blood and death.
My memory had never been the best, it was good, but not exceptional. Nothing out of this world.
I wasn't as smart as Damian or Tim, I wasn't as strong as Jason or Dick, nor was I as sharp as Bruce Wayne.
I wasn't exceptional, but I was good, but not good enough for them. For him.
God, I was so focused on getting his attention, playing sports, try to pass every subject with the highest grade, join any club like debate or math.
Anything, but all that never leads to anything.
Well, almost nothing, everything I did only caused Damian to see me as a desperate for attention, which, he wasn't wrong.
But still, it didn't make it hurt any less, every insult, malicious insinuation even the occasional threat flying through the air, each one was the result of three years of trying to get someone to look at me.
Sometimes that attention only appeared with Dick, on the few times that he came to visit and came across a scene of me with Damian, He immediately stopped him.
Forcing him to apologize, spoiler, he never apologized.
The first time it happened I thought that my attempts had finally yielded good results, but no, I dare say this was worse.
As if he gave me hope and then suddenly he snatches it away without any fanfare.
Oh wait, that's literally what happened.
And about the others, I didn't even have the chance to talk to them, simply because I was already tired and also because if Damian continued he would have more reasons to screw me.
And let's face it, nobody wants to feed the wolf because you know it bites.
In this case, the bird.
It didn't help that almost the entire family was going on patrol, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested in being part of that, but then I remember Jason...I immediately got that idea out of my mind.
Mm, but if I stop to think, or rather, remember, another thing that I learned in my attempts to get my family's attention, I fell in love with dance.
It was the only class that I didn't drop like the others, I genuinely loved it.
Once in her class, the teacher made us all dance with large, long, and thin fabrics. She made us dance what we wanted, in her words: “Dance as if you were free”.
My companions danced with joy, I just stayed silent for a few moments watching them without knowing how to start.
But then I sighed to close my eyes, letting my body move as it wanted.
“Dance as if you were free” I thought, I started to imagine the music in my head. It was nice, I love it.
I went from knowing what the hell to do to starting to laugh with my classmates, I turned around and then curtsied, feeling how almost all the fabric covered my body.
I open my eyes and see my entire audience applauding, not just me, but also the rest of the dancers.
As soon as I turned eighteen I followed my teacher's advice. I didn't do it before because I was a minor, I needed my tutor's permission and blah blah blah...
Contact with my family at this point was zero, except for the new member, Duke, a sweet and kind boy.
Just looking at him made prayers come to mind for Bruce.
“If you let this kid end up like Jason, I’ll take care of throwing the Joker at you myself, you unhappy idiot.” I was thinking but also listening as Duke energetically told me what his first patrol had been like.
I used to have a certain respect for Bruce, I mean, he's Batman and he does everything in his power to make sure Gotham isn't in such a shitty place.
But then I remember that he keeps adopting children as if they were dogs to give them "A better life" by turning them into human weapons.
Sooooo, yeah, I wish that every day he wakes up with a backache and a headache.
"[Name]"
"Yes dear?" Through the mirror I watched Duke looking at me hopefully as I put on my makeup for the upcoming performance in an hour.
Oh no, I already know what he's going to ask.
"Why do you never come to the mansion?" God, I swear he does that look on purpose, brat.
I sigh as I turn around to look at him.
"You already know my answer, I have no reason to do it and I don't want to either." I said as I turned back to the mirror to continue.
"Yes! I know, but why exactly don't you want to?"
A silence reigned in the room, putting on my makeup but at the same time thinking about what to answer him.
As much as I resent the Waynes, they didn't do anything to Duke, until now, they treat him as he deserves and the last thing I want is to plant that seed of hatred towards them in Duke.
Because I know him, as soon as I tell him what my childhood was like in that mansion and those responsible, the first thing he will do is complain.
And at this point in my life I don't want any unnecessary drama with them.
I lowered the lipstick and looked at him.
"I never liked being in that mansion, since I was little I was always afraid of those giant, dark hallways, and I still am."
Duke stared at me in bewilderment. "Is that the only reason you don't want to come to the mansion?"
I nodded. "It sounds stupid, I know, but every time I walk down those halls it brings back bad memories."
That wasn't a lie.
Duke was silent for a few moments before coming up to me and hugging me.
"Aww, honey you are such a sweetheart sometimes."
"Sometimes?"
"Yeah, because you can be a brat sometimes too." I laughed as I ruffled Duke's hair until it was disheveled.
"A white lie won't hurt anyone." I thought while Duke laughed and tried to pull my hand out of his hair.
Without realizing it, it was already time to start. I said goodbye to Duke, telling him to go back to the mansion, but he insisted on staying.
Something I allowed, GOD, I should have begged him not to do it.
Because from one moment to the next while I was dancing, all the lights went out and when they came back on I felt like blood was flooding my mouth, like everyone was screaming in fear.
What happened? Why am I bleeding?
Duke, he was next to me trying to keep me awake, to not close my eyes.
It got to the point where I couldn't hear anything he was saying, it was complicated while I felt like a part of my body was bleeding non-stop.
I hate to see him cry, please look away... leave me here.
Please...
I don't want the last thing I see to be you crying...
Please...
She opened her eyes calmly and confusedly, all she could hear was the ringing in her ears. She thought she was in a hospital because of the light.
But when her vision stopped blurring, she realized that the light was not from a hospital spotlight, but from the skylight in the wooden ceiling.
"Wait...Skylight?" She muttered, feeling her voice raspy and her throat sore.
The bed wasn't that soft, it was really hard and uncomfortable but still [Name] didn't want to get up, after almost dying...
[Name] sat up in bed right away.
"I ALMOST DIE!" She literally jumped out of bed and ran to the closet to get her clothes.
She needed to see how Duke was doing, his desperate face and the way he held back the urge to cry and couldn't, broke her heart.
But it was when she pulled out a t-shirt that she realized.
"This isn't my size..." Confused, [Name] walked over to the mirror.
If Duke broke her heart, now she's literally having a heart attack.
"WHAT THE FUCK!?" [Name] could swear that any living thing that was near her would have run away in less time than it takes a rooster to crow.
She touched her face carefully, as if it would disappear or break if she touched it hard, this is so weird...a woman in her late twenties trapped in her fifteen year old self, god, what a hell.
[Name] She stepped back without taking her eyes off the mirror while she sat back down on her bed.
On the other side of the door, she heard someone knocking on it two or three times. Accompanied by a soft but direct voice calling her name.
"Miss [Name]"
[Name] immediately turned around to stare at the door, for a few short moments no one said anything, there was only silence.
"Are you okay? You didn't come down to breakfast. That's not something usual for you." Alfred said once he got no response from her.
"Yeah, I'm fine Alfred...I just stayed up late last night that's all..." She didn't know what to say, obviously it wasn't okay, but she didn't want any more problems in her head, she just wanted to focus on the main problem.
She literally just got younger, which would be a good thing if it weren't for the fact that she also came back to this damn mansion.
"Okay, miss, I'll be waiting for you with your breakfast, you need to eat something before you start the day." [Name] was about to reply until Alfred stepped in. "Also, Happy Birthday Miss."
She didn't say anything, she didn't want to.
Alfred walked away from the door, [Name] could hear his footsteps moving away through the hallways and down the stairs.
"Was it always this quiet?" She muttered in her mind as she turned her gaze back to the mirror.
She thought about her life before coming back here, it wasn't good, she didn't earn much from dancing, but... it was her life, a life that took her time to perfect.
And now, I go back to the beginning? Shit, no.
"Alive or dead, I don't care, either way I'm getting out of here..." She said with some frustration and tiredness. "Happy birthday to me...that's new."
With nothing left to lose, she gets back out of bed to find some clothes to change into.
It was her birthday and she had to look good.
And hopefully, it would be the last birthday she would spend in this mansion.
NOTES: Hi, I hope everything is okay, even if it's better than me, I had finished the 'prologue' a while ago but I was feeling a bit unsure that something felt out of place or "weird".
I repeat and reiterate, I can understand English but in terms of speaking/writing it I am still learning. Until I feel completely confident for now I will continue using the translator (my savior).
But if there are any errors (probably some, I hope not many) let me know, I want everyone to be able to read comfortably and as long as I can I will make it happen.
Anyway, I hope you like it, I love you! Muak muak💋💋
TAGS:
@crazycaoticsimp @closetreader1864
#batfam x neglected reader#batfamily x neglected reader#yandere batfam#yandere batfamily x reader#negligent batfam#yandere dc#yandere batboys#platonic batfam x reader#reader insert#platonic reader#neglected reader#batfamily#batfam dc#batfam#alfred pennyworth
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Ok but what if Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu were the same person.
Little YQY is used to little baby SJ being a little strange. He talks about missing 'the internet' and one night when they almost freeze to death he solemnly informs YQY that "this transmigration experience sucks, 0/10 would not recommend."
As they grow SJ stops talking about odd things, but since he never explained about his past life to YQY he doesn't realize SJ is forcing himself to forget those memories of being warm and safe and happy because they hurt too much now when he is none of those.
The System is still there if course but since LBH isn't even born yet it's in low power mode. But that night locked in Qiu Manor after YQY leaves it pops up with a notification he's finished the 'Sorrowful Parting' quest and he loses it.
He alternates between insisting it doesn't exist and demanding to know why it only shows up when something bad happens to him. The System explains this is all necessary character development before he meets the main character.
SJ rages, not because he's not the main character but because he apparently needs to suffer for them, this person he's never met. Eventually the System turns off all notifications except essential ones, and that at least leaves SJ mostly alone in his own head.
And he takes that buried ache of his past memories and that he was apparently born to suffer and uses them to save himself when YQY fails him. Even though he promised. And he's fine- look, he's a Peak Lord! He's fine.
Until LBH turns up at the peaks, the System lights up for the first time in a decade, and SJ looks at this little boy and hates him. SJ can't see him without thinking about all the hurt he suffered, which the System insists was necessary for this boy's story.
So he does all those horrible things to LBH that he railed about as SY a lifetime ago and doesn't regret it. (PIDW is mostly lost to him, buried under the trauma, he doesn't know who LBH is, or who he is)
Until the qi deviation, which wipes all his memories except the ones he has buried. So he feels like he's a different person. He thinks he's transmigrated in late because he can't remember being 5 and teaching YQY carmeldansen.
A week after the deviation YQY hears SJ mutter something about Google and he relaxes, he does recognize this SJ after all.
Meng Mo pulls the memories out of SY's head after all. For all that SY draws the line between himself and SJ as different people he still remembers SJ's memories. But crucially not the ones from when he was little where his past and current lives overlap the most.
Sometime after the series ends SQQ is humming something modern- my heart says 'Never Gonna Give You Up'- and YQY casually mentioned he's always liked that one most of SJ's songs.
SQQ: What songs?
YQY: The ones only you know. You used to sing them all the time when you were little.
SQQ's head is spinning and he finds some privacy and questions the System which confirms he did in fact transmigrate as a baby like SQH did.
The memories come back slowly after that. He remembers telling LQQ he'll kill him after a bad fight, street kid him trying to explain to YQY what a T-Rex is... exactly what was going through his head when he dumped a cup of hot tea on an orphan he'd just met.
And SY has to deal with the fact that yes actually, that was him. That wasn't some other asshole. It's him, he's the asshole. Maybe that was the worst possible version of himself, maybe he got a second chance and changed for the better - but it was still him, and he's still capable of being that man again if he isn't careful.
#this would absolutely effect his relationship with LBH but this post was already so long#svsss#shen qingqiu#shen jiu#shen yuan#svsss au
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How would the gang react if you reveal ur a time traveler
Okily dokily!!!!
HOW EACH RDR2 GNG MEMBER WOULD REACT TO YOU BEING A TIME-TRAVELER (MY OPINION)
This is VERY vague. So I'm going to imagine this scenario you're from 1920 USA with lots of inside info on the vld gang cuz theres more I can do w that lol, and a person similar to John in terms of age/likeness/physicality. Imagine this is aprx chap 2.
Arthur - probably not have many questions really, just ask you why you'd come to this time of all times (he thinks you're stupid)
Hosea - only asks if John finally left with his family, and if everything actually does fall to bits. Doesn't really care for asking how he dies himself - In fact he doesn't want you to tell him
Dutch - Immediately asks if he dies for an ideal, or if he becomes someone of great reverence post mortem. When he doesn't like the answer he says he can't be kept by the lines society has decided for him so will disobey and flee "like Cain was once he was shun"
Reverend - says you're either deep in substances or have demons in you. Insists you must be a satanic lunatic and leaves with his head up. Later drunk he reveals he worries you're real and asks if God ever gives him a chance
Pearson - "heh...lemme guess...I'm in the books..ain't I?" "Ok you're lying though"
Sadie - asks when she will die and see Jake, and (if before this) asks if she gets to avenge his death
Charles - questions only on the land, and if the colonists finally destroy all of it by then, and on behalf of the natives. Otherwise tells you he's not interested in what will be otherwise
Micah - knows he's in the history books, so just walks off trying to be nonchalant. "Then I guess you know who I am.." (hes really close and breathing quite loudly)
Abigail - forgets herself to bombard you with questions about Jack and John, if they ever move away, if Jack grows up proper and they live till old. She starts sobbing after
Jack (1907) - wants to know if he becomes a writer, then whilst embarrassed quietly asks if his Father stays for real this time. Later tells you about a book he read with a similar premise. Your answer makes him quiet and hee doesnt speak for a while
John - Can't even think of what to ask, so just says like "ok- do-" then says he'll get back to you when he has something good to ask. Later: "wait-wait I got a good one... (some stupid question about future inventions)"
Trelawny - "I am a magician, too! I suppose we are both similar as such.." however he gets too freaked out and goes back to his family for a while
Javier - IMMEDIATELY only wants to know about the Mexican Revolution; was it successful? Did his family live? Does he return to Mexico? He refuses to believe your answer about him in Mexico in 1911 working for the government, insisting he would never pick that over his own life. Refuses to believe John would be the one to kill him, too. Angrily storms off after threatening you if you spit lies like that again (even if you proved to him ur fr)
Bill - gets scared of you thinking you have some other powers too, but then tries to toughen up and look unafraid. Demands, asks to know if becomes respected and feared in the future. Air punches when he hears he runs his own gang, then just looks straight up HURT hearing John kills him (trying to mask it) "But why wouldn't we be friends?"
Uncle - "you should be well aware then...of when the Lumbago gets to me.. where in the history books is that?"
Molly - quietly asks if everyone grows to like her (very embarrassed). She gets silent after your answer and goes to sit far away in camp for a while. Dutch later says to you that "you better not have put her in some mood"
Karen - says shes too sober for this, promptly grabs a drink and tells you she doesn't have anything to ask, but wishes she did. Avoids you afterwards fearing she was too open with you then.
Tilly - asks if she has a run-in with the foreman boys again. Otherwise then that she asks what cool things have been invented since
Mary-Beth - fascinated by future books, and asks if you have a novel from the future you could show her. She doesn't believe she could ever be a writer so doesn't ask.
Grimshaw - thinks you're a freak for coming here, saying "we are doing just fine! She does inquire about her girls though, if they all do well. She grows very strict with Karen there on, but also nicer
Sean - "do I become the big dog of the camp? Replace ol' king Arthur? Hahaha" a string of random questions , giving you no time to answer each one. He actually walks off before you can answer them thinking of more questions
Lenny - starts thinking if its okay to know about the future before responding, if theres no consequences, or if we as people should be able to. Decides he's better safe then sorry, and asks camp to be responsible. Dutch and him debate this
Kieran - asks if they finally accept him, and if the O'Driscolls come back. Grows very anxious at your response and spends the day cleaning the horses whilst trying to gather his thoughts to act upon.
#red dead redemption 2#rdr2#rdr#red dead redemption community#red dead redemption two#red dead fandom#red dead 2#john marston#rdr2 community#rdr2 arthur#red dead redemption arthur#arthur morgan rdr2#arthur morgan#rdr2 arthur morgan#john rdr2#john marston rdr2#rdr2 charles#red dead redemption charles#sadie adler rdr2#sadie rdr2#rdr2 dutch van der linde#dutch van der linde#hosea matthews#jack marston#rdr2 micah#micah bell#rdr2 hosea#charles smith#sadie adler#rdr2 john
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Why daisukes death was tragic (to jimmy atleast)
Daisuke is a ray of sunshine, hes a young boy from a relatively rich family. He is a pure boy, as the hibiscus flower represents beauty, and pink represents innocence, daisuke is innocent. The name of the game mouthwashing, referees to mouthwash and how you use it, you think its good for your teeth, but its not. It ruins your teeth slowly due to the sugar content. Just like jimmy. How jimmy thinks he’s fixing things but it just makes things worse in the longer run.
Like how he thinks it’s okay to send daisuke up to fix things, because daisuke is the only one who knows the insides of the ship. Daisuke was taught to follow his leaders when he was younger, and that can even go to the extreme if they taught him to follow his leaders even if it hurts to do anything to please their leaders. And daisuke always follows his leaders, he follows Swansea, and when he asks daisuke to drink daisuke is hesitant but does it anyway, because his leader told him too. When jimmy tells daisuke to go in the vent, daisuke objects but he follows because jimmy is now his leader, jimmy is the captain and Swansea is in no leader position. Captains orders, he tells daisuke. He knows he’ll follow and do his bidding for him. Daisukes death was tragic, because he was still young and had not yet lived a real life. When we get the dialogue about his life and how he was a slacker, jimmy shuts up and takes the mouthwash away from him. It’s possible that jimmy saw himself in daisuke that they both had problems and no aspirations in life, that they both followed their leaders. Jimmy could’ve followed his leaders but then he wanted to gain control as he could’ve been abused by his leaders wanting to be the one in control so jimmy could never be abused again but became the abuser. But daisuke was still young and doing all he could to try and be something unlike jimmy who has no life outside of the tulpar. He wanted to be something and have a place he worked so hard for it, unlike jimmy who doesnt work hard for things and uses other for his advantage to do the work instead (how he used daisuke). He sees the quick outcome of his actions, and jimmy in a line says ‘I’ll figure it out’ meaning he has no idea what hes doing and it’s a constant in the game. He tries to fix his mistakes, but it’s just mouthwash. He thinks hes fixing everything, but hes making it worse. That’s why the mouthwash in the game isn’t insignificant but important. Why jimmy tries to fix his wounds with mouthwash, but makes no other move. While daisuke is choking on his own blood no one dares to move him, while daisuke is dying he tries to be quiet mostly because his mothers used to complain that he was so chatty, that his leaders dont want him so loud, so as hes dying among his leaders (diasuke and swansea) he tries not to be a nuisance and stay quiet. He followed his leaders to death, and when Swansea ends his suffering by killing daisuke. So daisuke cant suffer from jimmy’s delusions calling him out. And when jimmy tells Swansea hell fix it, what jimmy said before but fucking it up that’s why Swansea tells him to fuck himself and he wishes he could’ve got daisuke the smallest chance off this rock, because he was still young and had a life ahead of him unlike everyone else. That he had a life outside of the tulpar unlike jimmy. That’s possibly why daisuke got much more guilt out of jimmy.
I kinda fucky-wuckied this one (pls check my account for my jimmy analysis!)
#curly#jimmy#Anya#daisuke#Swansea#mouthwashing headcanon#mouthwashing analysis#mouthwashing#curly mouthwashing#jimmy mouthwashing#Anya mouthwashing#daisuke mouthwashing#Swansea mouthwashing
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I wonder how much this scene plays a role in Monty choosing to target Edwin over Charles after Esther sends him to befriend the boys and then later how it impacts him falling for Edwin.
Edwin is the first one to enter so he’s the first one Monty sees.
Monty doesn’t crow when Edwin enters the house but waits until Charles enters. Does he already like Edwin better? Did he see Edwin and see something special?
Charles immediately responds to the crowing by telling him to hush. Did Charles’s words stick with him after Esther gave him a human body and mind and feelings? Were his feelings hurt or was he just annoyed by it?
Edwin pulls his gloves off as he passes Monty’s cage, does he think about that after becoming human? The way Edwin takes off a piece of his armor right before going into danger?
After Edwin tell his partner he believes in Charles’s ability to open the lock, Monty crows, and Charles sasses back. Edwin pays him no mind. Does that frustrate him, later when he’s human?
After Charles opens the lock, Edwin is the one who figures out that cabinet is a trick door.
I may not like Esther but she is clever. Was Monty learning from her the entire time he was her familiar? Does he take after her in that way? Always learning, always being wanting to be clever?
Monty, is shown soon after becoming human, to have a vast knowledge of zodiac signs. Did he learn all that in that short time span or was some of it things he’s taken in from Esther over the years? How much had he learned from her, from her spells, her books over the years?
Was he “raised” to appreciate cleverness even as a crow? Did he admire Edwin’s cleverness from the beginning?
Did he become human and immediately think back to when they first entered the house and wonder if Edwin would appreciate cleverness in return? Would appreciate the opportunity to learn something new from him? Hoped that they could be clever together?
There’s just so much to this scene from Monty’s perspective that I think we should consider.
Did he ever wonder if he was clever enough, would it be enough for Edwin to give him a chance?
Like he said, he never asked to be human… did he hope that, when the time came, with all his cleverness, that Edwin would understand that?
That he had never really had a chance in the first place?
#sorry for all the rambling#tragic characters with out a chance really speak to me#the boys got chances in death that they never got in life#crystal got another chance when she met the boys#niko will have another chance as we seen in the finale scene#jenny will have a chance to rebuild#the night nurse will have a chance to change and grow#the cat king has five more lives of chances#but monty? monty never had a chance at all#😭😭😭#esther also ran out of chances but I don’t care about all that#dead boy detectives#monty the crow#edwin payne#esther finch#charles rowland#my post
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#ok im making one more dot post and then i am (hopefully) getting off tumblr and going to bed#liam payne#death#i do suggest not reading tbh because its just gonna be waffle. anyways#ive distanced myself from the boys for years for a multitude of reasons. mainly that they did things that disappointed me and i realised the#way i was attatched to them was unhealthy. so for the most part i listened and enjoyed the music and didnt pay Much attention to anything#else. and like liam. i always liked him in the band days because to me he was the underdog. the underappreciated and probs less stanned one#out of all of them. and when youre a fan i do feel like a lot of us just wanted them all to be appreciated. idk. but anyways yeah i did feel#for him. due to him backgroud growing up. his talent. etc etc. even though he wasnt my fav. and even when he did something wrong my teenage#self still defended him like my life depended on it. (embarassing) anyways. his solo music while it was not my fav i still occasionally#enjoyed. its just over produced pop like it was fine and i found it fun. in terms of him as an actual person by this point in his career i#didnt pay attention to him or the others that much anymore#and like. yeah as of recently as more stuff came out about him being kinda weird and rude and abusive 🙃🙃🙃 that was kind of the final#straw for me! like in terms of me giving a fuck about him. if he eventually came around cool but i wasnt gonna wait around for it.#god this whole thing feels so dramatic but i need to get it oit or i Know i will not be at peace lmao anyways#so yeah come to hearing about his death which. i hear about because of trin lovell on twitter like. shsvshs. anyways my reaction was#disbelief and just... nothing? like i said in my brain i had just disregarded him honestly. and even now i still just feel speechless.#to summarise my feelings. fuck him for how he treated his ex and probably other women as well. but also. he was my boy. he'll always be a#part of me. and it feels weird that hes just. gone. he suffered a lot with addiction and pressures etc and its just. sad that hes gone now.#that he never got to get better. and he wont get the chance to. im sad for his family. and anyone else thats gonna be affected by this#im always gonna remember him.#and thats all i have to say. honestly part of me feels SO dramatic for even typing all this out but here we are.#if anyone has read this far and wants someone to talk to im more than happy. and also just wanna make clear that i am fine#le text post
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What was your first introduction to Jason Todd? Mine was through the video game Arkham Knight ( aka the best game ever made)
Fanfiction!
I was looking for specific tropes I think (I don’t remember which ones tho) and most of the fandoms showing up for it were either Batman or something Batman adjacent. I’m pretty flexible with fandoms and with any kind of relationships as long as the premise sounds interesting so I kinda just clicked one that looked good and it happened to be Jason Todd centric.
After that I started to read up on his character a bit, binged quite a number of fics, and, yup, that’s pretty much it. I was sold within the first ten minutes. Absolute fave hands down. 💚✨
#Jason really hit me over the head with a crowbar and said ‘this is your life now’#and I never said yes so quickly in my life#ahem ok no but srsly I love all the bat boys#but red hood’s forever got a special place in my heart#probably because I can relate to his horrible sense of humor#I too would joke about my death via clown every chance I got#ghost talks#bat boys#jason todd#red hood
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oh yeah we were also wondering why we flock to media with dead kids that haunt the narrative both figuratively and literally and uh :) yeah we know why
#child death tw#rowan seemed so much older when we were kids#but realistically she was barely like 14#maybe even 12 or 13#Jason Todd chara and asriel. them mfs from fnaf and maria#they’re dead kids but at the end of the day they’re all apart of someone else’s story#and a lot of them come back. in one way shape or form#with the exception of maria they all come back wrong and hurt and twisted by their deaths#but still deserving of love. still craving it more than anything#being a vessel for someone else’s opinions. barely even themselves#rowan died. and a part of us died with her#that was probably uh.. yknow. That guys last real time being here#cheri took all the stuff as kid. all of it happened to them but buddy boy was still kinda around#and then rowan died and then. She did too#and then Jay had to take over for years and then cheri came back but didn’t know they were cheri until#like they were 17 because they just repressed repressed repressed#and obviously those are very shallow views of those characters#but to a hurting kid who resonated so much with them they were everything#I have no clue why I’m so introspective tonight#but my friends do call me the emotion guy so#I guess it means something. but yeah something died in us when rowan died#but something was also born. rowan was a person. a little girl who should’ve grown up and that’ll never change#but I think this year is the year that we learn to let her go#im happy i got the chance to know her when we did#I hope she’s a fucking butterfly or something really cool like an alligator if her next life#also we already knew why we flocked to this media because duh. but like it helps to know which part of us needs more healing#who needs a therapist when you have me ;)
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need a jealous bsf!rafe x reader where he is possessive and doesn’t want other guys touching her even though he touches other girls, so she is basically over it and at a party, she dances on another guy and he gets mad
౨ৎ in which bsf!rafe just can’t help wanting to protect you.
you were done with rafe cameron. you’ve decided it. he was your best friend, sure, but he was controlling, mean, overly protective, and he acted like he owned you or something. so you were completely done with him, forever.
this is the third time you’ve promised yourself that, and news flash — you never dropped him.
it wasn’t your fault, you try to tell yourself every time. he just wouldn’t let you leave him, shutting you up whenever you’d even try and be reasonable with him, yelling louder than you or slamming his palm over your mouth. but a little part of you knows that you like the attention. you like that rafe cares so much about you, even if it does ruin your chances of getting a boyfriend. today is the day that you break the pattern though, and rebel against his constant authority.
parties are where rafe thrives. he’s like a celebrity, it always wonders you how much people love him. during parties, he keeps less of an eye on you, assuming you’re just busy gossiping with your friends. but little does he know, you’ve found a boy — it wasn’t often you’d get the opportunity to chat with a boy that wasn’t rafe, and you were loving every second of it. you felt so free from your friend’s gaze, listening to the boy talk, his deep voice vibrating your brain.
but the issue was, the boy was boring. he didn’t talk about cool things, like dirtbikes or his life or death adventures or money. you hated to say it, but he just wasn’t rafe. your mind kept flashing back to him, how much more you smile and enjoy his company. maybe rafe was right. you just didn’t need boys when you have him.
you’re so close to excusing yourself from the boy, going back to rafe’s arm and giggling with him and talking with your faces really close together. you glance back to where he is, ready to retreat, until you see it. you see her.
you’re not sure who she is, but she bothers you. her hair is so gorgeous and healthy, and you can’t see her face from behind but she must be gorgeous. her arm is on rafe’s bicep — your bicep, the one you always hang onto while you’re walking with rafe. you hate that you’re jealous. rafe’s your friend, not your boyfriend, you have no reason to be. but it’s like you can’t control it, your rage, and before you know it, you’re blinking back any potential tears and touching on this boy — this stranger — like there’s no tomorrow. tyla is blasting through the speakers, and yours and these boy’s hands are all over each other’s bodies. you really hope rafe sees you like this, drunk off the smirnoff pink lemonades and enjoying another mans company.
it really doesn’t take long for him to notice. he’s so predictable. shrugging the girls hand off of him, rushing over to his dear friend to get her away from this lowlife.
usually he’d reason with you. coax you away from the boy nicely and lecture you. but he’d had a few beers and a line of coke and he was in no mood for politeness. a rough hand pushes the boy away by the chest, and rafe isn’t muttering a word to anyone, grabbing your wrist and stomping away with you stumbling behind.
he pushes you into a spare bedroom, the first private place he could find. sitting you on the edge of the bed, he starts pacing in front of you and rubbing his face as if this was hurting his head. it’s like your brain flicks a switch, back to “rafe rafe rafe” as you’re sat there with tears brimming your eyes, fiddling with your manicure as you bat your eyelashes up at him, remembering the girl flirting with him, and now you making him mad, and now he’s got you in a puddle of guilt.
“shit— it’s like, you never do what i say, huh?” he mutters, still pacing. “you know i do everything to protect you, kid. you even know who that fuckin’ guy was? no, m’sure you don’t, cause you don’t think. thought by now my voice would be in your pretty head, there to help you make some smart decisions every once in a while. but nah, nah, you see one other boy and it’s back to square one with you,”
you go to speak, glossy lips parting, but he shuts you up with a quick “no”, and stopping pacing to go kneel in front of you.
“everything i do — for you, okay? for you. my girl,” he often calls you that, it makes you weak every time. he grabs your hands. “stop fiddling, paid for this polish.” you stop instantly. “i know— i know you think that my protectiveness is, uh, stupid, but i need to be like this, or you’re gonna get hurt. i know you, baby. i need to be all over you for you to even have a slight awareness to not do stupid things. so i do take some ownership over you in that sense—“
you cut him off, muttering a, “don’t want you to take ownership.”
he huffs. “yeah, but i do, so…” he shrugs. “you’re mine. my friend, my girl. so i don’t like it when someone else touches my girl, or when you’re the one intiating it. makes me so fuckin’ angry, kid, makes me wanna, like—“ he cuts himself off. “so i need you to knock it off.”
you wanna argue so badly, but your brain turns to mush around him. so you sniffle and nod hesitantly.
“no, i want a ‘yes rafe.’ need your words.”
“i just think that—“ you try.
he cuts you off. “yes rafe. say it with me.”
“..yes, rafe.” you both say.
he squeezes your hands and gets up. “yeah, there you go, good girl. now do you, uh, need a minute, fix your makeup, or d’you wanna go back down there and hang out with me?”
your hand goes to his bicep as you stand up with him, and a ghost of a smile appears on his lips. “wanna go with you,” you say softly, leaning into him a bit.
“yeah, that’s what i thought.”
#౨ৎ isa writes#mm can u guys tell i love his biceps!!!#sorry i wouldve made her more of a bad bitch but thats not who i am#if rafe was near me id start drooling and nodding to whatever hes saying idk#obx#outer banks#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#obx x reader#rafe cameron obx#outerbanks rafe#rafe obx#rafe cameron prompt
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I cannot believe people let Snape get the high ground.
How do people casually overlook the fact that Snape spent six entire years of his life telling a kid—who never even got the chance to know his father—that said father was an arrogant douchebag? Like, how do people think that behavior is normal?
Snape, a grown man, spent years trying to convince a grieving, orphaned child that his dead father—who literally died protecting his family—was a terrible person. No compassion for a man who gave his life for his wife and son. No sympathy for a kid who grew up abused, unloved, and completely alone, only learning about his parents through stories told by others.
Instead, Snape chose to rehash his teenage rivalry with James Potter by bullying his son. Imagine being so petty that you can’t move past your high school grudges, even when the other person has been dead for over a decade.
Even the coldest, most detached person would muster some respect for a man who died fighting for good. But Snape? No. He chose to sit on his high horse—ignoring the fact that he was once a Death Eater who only changed sides when his own personal interests were threatened—and still had the audacity to act morally superior to James.
James Potter died a hero. Snape, on the other hand, spent his life tormenting the child of the woman he claimed to love—while refusing to let go of a teenage rivalry and weaponizing it against a traumatized, grieving boy.
I cannot get over how utterly selfish and cruel that is. Snape had no empathy for the dead and no sympathy for the living. And people still try to defend him? Seriously?
#james potter#marauders era#moony#padfoot#sirius black#remus lupin#sirius x reader#james x reader#remus x reader#the marauders era#marauders#the marauders#james potter x reader#james potter imagine#james potter smut#sirius black imagine#sirius black x reader#sirius black smut#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin smut#wolfstar#jily#harry potter#dead gay wizards#lily evans#marlene mckinnon#atyd fandom#james potter drabble
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DPxDC prompt (demon twins au)
A video from your son, the email was titled. Bruce was confused. Which of his kids would send a video to his public work email??
Bruce clicked play.
On the screen was a boy who look a lot like Damian, but most certainly wasn’t him.
“This video is for the eyes of Bruce Wayne only.
Hi Dad. I’m Danny. You likely don’t know I exist, and if you’re receiving this, I’m already dead. Well, more dead than I already was. Maybe it’s cruel of me to send you a message post-mortem, but you deserve the truth, and telling you earlier would’ve put you in danger.
This email is set to automatically send if I haven’t opened my computer for 3 days. I sometimes set it longer if I’m on vacation or expecting trouble, but I’ve mostly likely been away from home for a bit over three days if you’re receiving this.
I don’t know who killed me. Obviously. I’m recording this in advance. But it was probably either the GIW or my adoptive parents, the Fentons. I half-died at 14 and became a local ghost superhero, but they never realized I was trying to help and kept talking about tearing ghost-me apart molecule by molecule, so I bet that’s what happened. There will be nothing left of me to bury. Sorry about that!
The rest of the story is this. I was raised in an assassin cult, eventually escaping at the age of 6 when they sent me on mission and I successfully faked my death.
My biggest regret is that I escaped alone. And that’s the reason I’m reaching out to you.
You’re a civilian. If you know too much about the League of Assassins you’ll be in danger. But I need you to save my twin Damian. He’s likely still there after all these years. He never wanted to escape; he took pride in being the heir to the league. He’s probably going to be stabby; he’s an assassin after all. But it’s not his fault. Ra’s - our grandfather - brainwashed him a lot more than he brainwashed me because Damian was more susceptible to it. It’s not his fault. Please. Save him. I’m begging you. My biggest regret is leaving Damian in the league. You have a chance to save him. Please, please do it.
I wish it would’ve been safe for me to get to know you. You seem like a cool dad, from what I’ve seen of you on the news with your oldest kids. I bet you’re like that with the youngest you hide from the public too. I wish you all the best. Thank you for listening.
Your long lost almost certainly dead by now son, Danny Fenton.”
Bruce took a second to process this, then picked up his phone and dialed his youngest’s number.
“Father.”
“Damian, did you have a twin named Danny?”
“…Who told you?”
Bruce hung up and sent Damian the video. He needed a minute to process this anyway.
Damian called back a few minutes later, after watching the video.
“Father. I do not care what state he is in. We must discover exactly what happened to Danny. Even if there is only a single molecule left. We must discover the truth.”
“I couldn’t agree more, Damian.”
Dealer’s choice on whether Danny is alive. The few ideas I have for this are:
- they find him mid-vivisection and rescue him
- they find what’s left of him post-vivisection and post his core being crushed
- he’s perfectly fine and just forgot to open his computer (maybe clockwork made sure he forgot?) and now he’s panicking about the fact that his family knows about him and could be in danger. He wanted them to know he existed, not make themselves a walking target for the league by finding him and trying to bring him home!
- Jazz found the automatic email and, deciding to meddle in her brother’s life and him back to his family and maybe get a good parent for herself as a bonus, sent it early
- Technus decided to start shit and sent it while haunting Danny’s computer
- Clockwork screwed with time to make sure it got sent
Lmk what yall do with this!
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no i will actually never get over jason todd. he might not always be a hyperfixation but he will always be in my heart. i will always be immensely fond of the man who is so very defined by love and yet doomed for violence.
as a boy he believed robin was magic, he liked school, he sought out his biological mother though she never did the same for him, he shielded her in his last moments. he died in his robin suit, he gave up education to protect people, he was beaten as his mother watched.
as a teenager he begged his father to show him he missed him and that his death meant something, that he didn't come back into a world where he no longer had a place, that his death wasn't just a cautionary tale. he got his throat slit and he was left in a crumbling building.
he dedicated his life to protecting people, controlling crime in the only way he knew would benefit the people and keep them safe. he delivers justice and does his best to prevent cases such as his own. he is deemed irrational, an issue - he gets brainwashed, infused with a crippling fear. that is the first time his father tells him he loves him.
he is a big, scary dog people would sooner stay away from and put in a cage than give him a chance to show he would rip your attacker's arm off to save you. he's exposed his belly many times and all he ever got was the kick of a boot.
#jason todd#dcu#red hood#jason todd x reader#angst#writing#batman#bruce wayne#batman utrh#gotham war
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𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ─ 𝐨𝐛𝟑𝟖
summary: when max verstappen’s adopted little sister starts soft launching, the whole grid launches an investigation on who it might be
pairing: ollie bearman x f2 driver! max verstappen’s adopted sister! reader
faceclaim: no one in particular
note: i accidentally published this before it was finish so now i’ve completely lost the request but anyways the request really was just about max being reader’s grid dad but i ran with it a little
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ twitter
.ೃ࿐ yourusername posted on her story!
landonorris replied to your story: it’s like you have a death wish
yourusername: shut up
landonorris: rest in peace to the unlucky guy 🫡
arthur_leclerc replied to your story: soft launching knowing mad max is your warden is insaneee
yourusername: i just got that dog in me ig
arthur_leclerc: never ever say that again
paularon_ replied to your story: so long, ollie. it was good knowing you, mate ✊
yourusername: so dramatic for no reason
maxverstappen1 replied to your story: that better be just be some stranger you picked up on the side of the road to tie your shoelaces and not a boy you went around japan with when you told me you were only going out with your team
yourusername: remember that you love and adore me and i am 17 years old and can make my own decisions
maxverstappen1: nice try. who is he?
yourusername: no ❤️
ੈ✩‧₊˚ messages
ੈ✩‧₊˚ instagram
liked by olliebearman, maxverstappen1, paularon_ and others
yourusername suzuka, youve been very nice to me 🫶
view all comments…
user1 the way she ran to max’s arms after the podium 🥹
user2 a red bull girl with her red bull dad
user3 so we’re not going to talk about the 3rd pic?
maxverstappen1 who is he and why are you going on dates without telling anyone? what if something happens to you and no one knows where you are or who you’re with?
↳ yourusername calm down, we were with the team 🙄
↳ user4 overprotective dad max is so adorable i cant lie
↳ user5 if they were with the team, does that mean the guy’s also part of the team? another driver maybe?
↳ user6 user5 youre onto something
victoriaverstappen je bent geweldig, mijn meisje. blijf stralen ❤️ (you are amazing, my girl. keep on shining.)
↳ yourusername ik hou zielsveel van je, v 💕 (i love and adore you to bits, v)
paularon_ congrats or whatever
↳ yourusername jealousy doesnt suit you
↳ paularon_ nvm fck u 💕
arthur_leclerc stop winning
↳ yourusername get a seat first ❤️
olliebearman congratulations, yn! another trophy to bring home ❤️
↳ yourusername thank you, ollie!
use7 the difference between paul and arthur then ollie bye i love their friendship 😭
landonorris girlll who is heeeee
↳ yourusername no ❤️
↳ charles_leclerc come on, at least give us a clue
↳ carlossainz55 is he also a driver? what team does he driver for?
↳ yourusername yall are grown ass men way too interested in a teenager’s love life. absorb some sunlight
↳ user8 she gagged yall im afraid 😭
ੈ✩‧₊˚ messages
ੈ✩‧₊˚ instagram
liked by olliebearman, paularon_, arthur_leclerc and others
yourusername hello, lover ❤️
view all comments…
olliebearman my girl ❤️❤️
olliebearman love you to the moon and to saturn 💫
↳ yourusername buzz lightyear’s got nothing on us frfr
↳ arthur_leclerc why can’t you be normal?
↳ yourusername ollie loves me with all the weirdness and shit
↳ olliebearman yeah that’s about right
↳ arthur_leclerc 🤮🤮
↳ user1 arthur is your regular third wheel bff
paularon_ ollie’s trying to keep his cool in the comments but he’s red as a tomato
↳ olliebearman shut the hell up no im not
↳ yourusername youre not? 🥹
↳ olliebearman i mean of course i am got me giggling and shit too
↳ paularon_ you’re both disgusting
user2 arthur and paul are so over them 😭
user3 i fucking knew the back of that head was familiar!!!!
user4 oh? OH!
user5 idk what hurts more. the fact that i no longer have a chance with ollie or the fact that i no longer have a chance with yn
user6 waiting for max’s comment
maxverstappen1 you better watch it the next time you step in for either carlos or charles, bearman 🙂
↳ yourusername you promised
↳ maxverstappen1 i promise i’ll carve charles’ appendix out myself so ollie and i can face each other on track man to man
↳ olliebearman i- sir?
↳ charles_leclerc mate, what the fuck did i do to you
↳ yourusername maxie come on. you promised me you’d be nice
↳ maxverstappen1 fine 🙄
maxverstappen1 dinner’s at 8 on tuesday. don’t be late
↳ olliebearman yes, sir 🫡
user7 not charles getting dragged into it 😭😭
↳ user8 max is just completely unable to go through a conversation without mentioning charles ♡ liked by yourusername
liked by victoriaverstappen, olliebearman and others
yourusername it was truly unfortunate for max to find out that his cat is also now in love with ollie
view all comments…
user1 omg sophie and victoria also joined the dinner 😭
↳ user2 girlie really introduced her to the whole family
↳ yourusername well actually max invited them along to try and intimidate ollie but jokes on him, they loved him
↳ user3 yn and ollie to max when vic and sophie ended up loving ollie: oh how the turntables
maxverstappen1 sassy is NOT in love with a ferrari driver
↳ yourusername one thing you, sassy and i have in common with
↳ user4 yn truly is just a lestappen truther
olliebearman sassy 🫶
↳ yourusername oh i guess ill just die then
↳ olliebearman my love beautiful angel girlfriend yn ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
↳ yourusername better
↳ arthur_leclerc did you just get jealous over a cat?
↳ yourusername did you really just lose your seat?
↳ yourusername it’ll get old when you get your seat back
↳ arthur_leclerc that’s getting old 🙄
user5 each and every day, arthur tries to come for yn’s neck and each and every day, yn gags him
paularon_ olliebearman in a scale of 1-10, how scary is it to face mad max head on?
↳ olliebearman just peachy ���� (i nearly shat my pants)
charles_leclerc does this mean that max’s promise is null and void?
↳ maxverstappen1 none of you figured out who it is 🤷
↳ yourusername what promise?
↳ maxverstappen1 ….nothing
landonorris i can’t believe we didn’t figure out it’d be bearman
↳ george_russell it seems so obvious now
↳ alex_albon i asked him straight on and he lied to my face
↳ olliebearman i was terrified max would find a way to run me over with his rocketship if i even dare utter it
↳ alex_albon yk what absolutely valid
also this turned out wayy longer than i meant it to which is why it took so long.
#ollie bearman#ollie bearman x reader#ollie bearman fluff#ollie bearman smau#formula 2#formula 1#f1#max verstappen#f2#f2 x reader
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How They React to Your Death
My HCs about how I think the Genshin boys would react to your death. I wanted to write Kaeya too, but ran out of steam.
This month has been terrible to me, so I was in the mood for angst. I don't know how well these turned out, but they were fun to think about.
Part 2 here.
Characters: Alhaitham, Childe, Heizou, Kaveh, Lyney, Neuvillette, Venti, Wanderer/Scaramouche, and Wriothesley
WARNING:
Reader has death descriptions. Some are more graphic than others, but I don't get into the nitty gritty details.
Spoilers for the backstories of all the mentioned boys.
MAJOR SPOILERS for Act V of the Fontaine Archon quest in Neuvillette's part.
Childe's part contains mention of suicidal thoughts.
Kaveh's and Venti's parts contain alcoholism
🎧 Alhaitham
Despite Alhaitham’s considerable wealth, no amount of money could cure your Eleazar sickness. His money could only buy treatment that prolonged your life a little bit, but ultimately your many years of battling the illness ended when he got news from the doctors that you had passed away in your sleep.
Alhaitham had accepted the news fairly quickly. He knew your death was inevitable, could see you slowly wasting away each time he visited you in the hospital over the past few months. So it was no surprise to him when the day finally came. The other patients and staff thought it strange how Alhaitham had no visible reaction to the news, but some chalked it up to shock when in truth the Scribe was simply accepting of that fact. There was no use denying something that already happened.
When Alhaitham came home that day, the house felt silent and empty. It reminded him of how the house felt when his grandmother passed away when he was younger. The sensations were similar. However, he did not cry over your death. Instead, he carried on his life as normal, or as close to it as he could now that you were no longer a part of what he considered ‘normal’.
At first glance, people thought that Haitham was unaffected by your death. Nothing about him changed. Not his mannerisms, his quality of work, or his expression. He remained the same reserved, stoic Scribe who had no time for trivial nonsense or extra work. He also never talked about you to others aside from confirming their question if you were truly gone. Alhaitham was like a well-oiled machine that worked efficiently like clockwork, keeping up the same even rhythm.
What they don’t see is how he comes home with the expectation of hearing your voice greet him upon entering, only to be faced with a defeating silence that makes his heart sink. They don’t know that Alhaitham wakes up throughout the night, expecting to find you snuggled up next to him in bed the way you used to before your sickness got worse, and you had to be hospitalized. However, you weren’t there no matter how many times he looked towards your side of the bed, and the Scribe could only sigh and try to fall back asleep while ignoring his aching heart.
No one sees how Alhaitham gets too lost in his books in the mornings and accidentally makes two cups of coffee instead of one due to force of habit. Or how, for once, he finds the silence of his house bothersome without your voice and the sounds of your activities resounding within the walls, and it’s enough to distract him from reading. He could be found reading at the House of Daena and Puspa Café more often from then on.
During his afternoon naps, Alhaitham sneaks back home and cradles your favorite blanket to mimic the sensation of holding your soft body in his arms the way he used to when you joined him for naps. He listens to recordings of you talking with him just so he can hear your voice again. He was glad he made the decision to record your voice at the hospital before you became too weak to speak. It gave him the chance to hear you one more time even if the sound of your voice made his chest hurt so much that he occasionally had to stop the recording to collect himself.
Nobody sees how Alhaitham finally picks up the fiction books you recommended him because they were your favorite. He prefers non-fiction, but these books are the last things he has left through which he could connect to your mind and way of thinking. He reads them all cover-to-cover even if he finds the story lacking or the writing not to his taste. He will learn to treasure each and every word because you once did.
What someone might see, as Kaveh did when he moved in with the Scribe, is a bookshelf filled with a few journals, a thick book with an emerald cover, and an assortment of fiction books that exist nowhere else in the house. Alhaitham never talks about these books unless asked, but their well-worn covers are a sign of frequent use, and sure enough, one can catch him reading a rare fiction book during one specific month each year.
🐋 Childe
You went missing after going out to collect some firewood in the woods near Childe’s home. A search party was arranged to find you with Childe in the lead, and he was also the first one to find your remains. Your body had been torn apart, blood and innards splattered across the snow, no doubt the work of some rifthounds. Usually, Childe would relish in such a gory sight, but not this time. Not when it’s your blood and flesh painted in the snow.
The sight leaves him numb. He’s numb when the search party comes to retrieve you, numb when he sees your parents weeping over your gruesome death, and numb when he takes on the duty of exterminating every rifthound he finds around Morepesok.
He wants to cry too, to grieve for you the way he needs, but refrains. He doesn’t want to appear weak and unreliable when his younger siblings mourn and cry over your death. You were like family to them, and your death broke their little hearts to pieces. Childe didn’t want to burden his siblings further by breaking down in front of them. He needed to remain a reliable older brother who could support them through this tough time, even when his own heart bled and he cried in his sleep when he dreamed about you.
Childe’s underlings noted that the Eleventh Harbinger became colder and more irritable after your passing. Any mention of your name would garner the speaker a harsh glare, and if Childe assumed what said person said about you was disrespectful, he didn’t hesitate to start a fight and beat the other person within an inch of their life. He became violent and unhinged, much like how he used to be when he returned from the Abyss as a fourteen-year-old boy.
Childe knew his behavior was irrational, and it pained him to see even his own family fear him due to his violent actions. He felt restless. Spending time at home among your belongings summoned feelings of longing and sadness, but even so, he couldn’t bear to throw anything away. He lived among the ghosts of your existence, however, it drove him mad with grief.
Childe needed an outlet for his emotions, so he took to fighting monsters and other strong opponents. He became even more reckless in battle. If before, the Harbinger sought out strong enemies to test his mettle against them and grow stronger as a result, now he sought out an opponent that would be worthy of taking his life.
Childe didn’t want to abandon his family. He loved them dearly and wanted to see his siblings grow up to be happy and successful people, but life without you felt so hollow. A part of him wanted to return to his family, but the sense of his family feeling incomplete never left him. You were just as much of a family to him as his siblings and parents were. He had plans to start his own family with you. But now… now, a part of him yearns to reunite with you in the afterlife. He promised he would stay by your side no matter what, and Ajax is not one to break his promises.
🔍 Heizou
Heizou was one of the first to hear about your stabbing that occurred in an Inazuman alleyway late that evening. You were rushed to a doctor to have your wound treated, but the robber who attacked you hit a vital area. Your blood loss was colossal, and it wasn’t long after arriving at the doctor’s that you succumbed to your injury.
To Heizou, the news brought on a sense of deja vu. He’s already lost a friend to crime in the past, and now he lost you to crime, too. The knowledge made him furious and heartbroken. He was angry at the robber for stabbing you just so he could steal some money that you didn’t want to part with, and he was angry at himself for failing to prevent this. After his friend passed away, Heizou swore to nip crime in the bud by discouraging criminals from committing crimes with the threat that he would find and capture them no matter what without fail. But what good did his resolve do if you still died because of an armed robber?
The heartache and guilt he felt ate away at him as the memory of your ashen face during your last few moments haunted him. He lost you. Never again would he get to spend time with you and make you laugh, kiss and hug you, or tell you he loved you.
His anger drove him to capture the murderer in record time, but hearing the criminal’s subsequent sentence for theft and murder didn’t comfort the detective. No amount of jail time would ever atone for the loss of your life.
After that day, Heizou lost his playful demeanor, becoming somber and reserved. He threw himself into his work, feeling pressured to capture as many criminals as he could in as little time as possible. However, his grief and exhaustion caused his mind to dull and make mistakes while investigating clues. It got to the point where Kujou Sara had to forcibly send him on vacation so he could take a break and properly process your death.
Despite his protests, Heizou knew he wasn’t much use in his current state, so he took this free time to visit your family and mourn together with them. He apologized for not doing a better job of protecting you, fully expecting your parents to lay blame on him for not protecting their child. To his surprise, your parents didn’t blame him at all. They even thanked him for catching the murderer and helping them to feel a little more at peace. Heizou’s interaction with your family helped him feel a tiny bit less guilty about your death.
The experience left him feeling a little less broken, so in the following days he sorted through your belongings in your shared home. He packed away some items to return to your parents, some things he put in storage, and others he gave away that he remembered you wanting to get rid of. A few of your items he kept for himself, one of which was a scarf you mentioned you bought because it was the same shade of green as his eyes which reminded you of him.
Heizou wore your scarf as a keepsake and good luck charm and would hardly be seen without it when he finally came back to work. What once served as your reminder of him, now served as his reminder of you, the person he loved with his whole being. But with the memories of you came the reminder of how you died. Though the memory was painful, it helped Heizou work up the will to keep pursuing his goal of eradicating crime. Even when the case was extremely tough with conflicting clues, your scarf would remind him to not give up, to not let another incident like yours happen again, and Heizou would persevere. He would continue to persevere no matter how long it took because he didn’t want innocent lives like yours to be snatched away so cruelly. Maybe one day, he will see you in the afterlife and proudly tell you all about how he achieved his dream. Until then, he will work hard to be worthy of the title of Inazuma’s best detective.
🍷 Kaveh
Kaveh had a lot of work to do. He was saddled with creating drafts for another large project while also trying to work on the commission for constructing a library in Aaru village for the children. Wanting to help alleviate his burden, you offered to take the finished drafts over to Aaru village yourself so he could focus on finishing up work for his other project. Kaveh tried to object, saying you really didn’t need to trouble yourself on his behalf, but you insisted, expressing your desire to help him finish his work sooner so the two of you could spend more time together again. After some deliberation, he let you go to the village by yourself, confident that you could make the trip since you accompanied him there several times before.
A few days later, Kaveh received news that you had died on your return trip from the desert. When he heard the cause of your death, his stomach roiled. You perished in quicksand just like his father. You died doing something for his sake, just like his father did.
Whatever future plans he was building together with you, whatever progress you made in helping him slowly heal from his trauma, it all came crashing down around him. Your death reopened old wounds Kaveh was only starting to heal from, as well as left new scars that tormented him every waking moment.
The first few weeks, Kaveh couldn’t stand to be in your shared home. It was full of memories of you, and each and every one of your belongings would stab at his heart like a blade. Moreover, the house felt so silent without you around. It reminded him of when his mother left for Fontaine, leaving him alone in a house too big for only him to live in. Now, he was reliving that moment all over again, but it was worse this time because, unlike his mother, he would never see you again.
Kaveh also couldn’t stand to look inside his sketchbooks. The pages were covered in various sketches of you, and looking at them only made the anguish and guilt grow in him tenfold. He blamed himself for your death, attributing it to being his fault just like he attributes his father’s death as his fault too. No matter what anyone says to console him, he will never stop believing it’s all his fault.
Fueled by guilt and self-loathing, Kaveh spent several weeks visiting Lambad’s tavern practically every day. One could even say he lived there since the architect seldom went home. He used what little money he had to buy alcohol, especially of the stronger kind. He wanted to numb the pain in his heart and to pretend that you weren’t really gone from this world. The alcohol helped to muddle his mind until his intoxicated brain conjured happy memories of you together, and Kaveh would mumble your name in a drunken haze. Other times it didn’t help, and Alhaitham, Cyno, or Tighnari could often find a drunk Kaveh quietly crying while slumped over a table and trying their best to drag him home while listening to his drunken babble of self-loathing and regret.
It will take a long time for Kaveh to feel okay again, and even then, he will never be the same optimistic and cheerful person he used to be. You were his muse, the one who made him feel like maybe he was deserving of love after all. But with you gone, he lost his creative spark. His designs no longer held the same extravagant and artistic flair they used to. Now, they’re more tame by comparison. With your passing, you took with you the little bit of joy he felt towards the world, and it seemed more bleak than it used to be when he was with you.
Kaveh refused to seek out love after your death. He’s lost too many people he held dear and has been left alone over and over again. The pain of being left behind and of feeling like he will only bring misfortune to those he cares about, made him seal off his heart. He doesn’t want to let people close to him like that again, and neither does he want to replace you. You were, and still are, very special to him.
Despite numerous years going by after your passing, Kaveh never forgot you, and he didn’t want your memory to be forgotten either. He built an art school and dedicated it to you in honor of being the one who inspired him so much in his creative endeavors. He hopes that your name will live on and continue to inspire future generations of artists long after he is gone from the world.
🎩 Lyney Having grown up in the House of the Hearth with Lyney and Lynette, the twins were practically like family to you. Though admittedly, Lyney and you developed romantic ties rather than familial ones the more you got to know each other. It was no surprise to anyone when the two of you became a couple, and Lynette even encouraged it.
Being a member of the Fatui, you were often sent out on dangerous missions to infiltrate enemy territory and report your findings back to Arlecchino. You were good at your job and had major successfully completed missions under your belt, but even the best slip up sometimes. After infiltrating enemy headquarters, you regularly reported your findings back to the House, however, one day the correspondence stopped. You went completely silent. The thought of you being caught immediately crossed Lyney’s mind, but he was hopeful that as an experienced agent, you would manage to find a way out somehow. You always have in the past, and after having worked together with you during joint missions, he saw first-hand how capable you were. To pass the time, he focused on polishing a magic trick he wanted to show you upon your return.
Days go by, and just as the magician is about to lose his patience and run off to try and find you, news about your body washing up on a riverbank reaches his ears. The heartbreak Lyney experiences upon hearing the news is indescribable. He felt lost, disoriented, and anguished. A part of him refused to believe the facts, but after witnessing the gruesome sight of your corpse, he had no choice but to face reality.
You were dead.
Lyney wondered at length about the cause of your death, and while his own guesses made his stomach knot, the autopsy report he read a few days later made him livid. Numerous torture and abuse marks were found on your body. It seemed that the enemy had captured and tortured you, hoping to force you to spill some of the Fatui’s secrets. Judging by the severity of the most recent wounds, you must have kept quiet because more brutal torture methods were used on you until the enemy figured out they wouldn’t get anything out of you, and disposed of you. Lyney knew how loyal you were to your family. You would never betray them even at the cost of your own life, but in that moment, he really wished you would have treasured your life more. Maybe then you could have survived. Maybe then he would have had the chance to hold you in his arms and tell you he missed you while you were gone. Maybe he would have had an opportunity to show off the magic trick he created specifically for your eyes only. But now, he’ll continue to miss you until the day death comes for him too. Lyney’s initial reaction upon hearing of your torture is overwhelming fury. Lynette had to hold him back from recklessly running off to take revenge against the enemy. It took a lot of reasoning on her part, but eventually, her brother calmed down.
Once his bout of anger passed, Lyney broke down. Lynette didn’t hide her own tears as she held her brother in her arms while he cried. The siblings both missed you dearly and mourned your loss, but Lyney took your death especially hard. He felt broken. One of his most precious people was taken from him in such a cruel manner, and the mere thought of how you must have spent your last few waking hours made him feel horrible.
He was anguished and angry, and the potent concoction of negative emotions weighed down on his heart and mind. Gone was his cheerful smile and outgoing attitude, replaced with a cold and somber frown. His calculative side took center stage. Though his initial burst of outrage passed, he wouldn’t give up on his desire for revenge until the act had been carried out. Aside from the twins, Arlecchino also refused to take your death lying down. You were her precious child, someone she put in a lot of love and effort to raise, and this transgression angered her as much as it angered Lyney. Together with Arlecchino, Lyney and Lynette infiltrate enemy headquarters and make every person a part of that organization pay. The magician ensures that the perpetrators experience the same pain you went through during your torture, and by the time they’re done, not a soul is left alive.
Even after exacting revenge, Lyney barely feels a smidge better. Though your captors have been neutralized and won’t hurt anyone the way they hurt you ever again, it doesn’t satisfy Lyney. At the end of the day, all he wants is to have you back in his life. He consoles himself with pieces of your clothing. Your clothes smelled like you, and Lyney hugged one of your items every night, breathing in your scent and soaking the material with his tears as he quietly cried. It takes a long time for Lyney to get himself together and act like himself again. Though he could easily put on a fake smile for his audience, his heart still aches inside. He misses you no matter how many months go by, and Lynette has her hands full comforting him when he breaks down at night and cries about how much he wants to see you. Lyney would have had an easier time accepting your death if you had passed away more peacefully, but knowing you were tortured to death will forever haunt him.
Once he feels more like himself, Lyney incorporates the magic trick he originally wanted to show you upon your return into his magic shows. He only performs it during special occasions so it would leave a great spectacle upon his audience. It was once made to awe you, but now it awes his audience, and a part of him feels some semblance of catharsis in knowing he could inspire others to feel the same joy you made him feel using just this trick. At times like these, Lyney feels as if a part of you was still there with him, enjoying the show he secretly dedicates in your honor.
⚖️ Neuvillette
You were visiting your friend Navia in Poisson, when the Primordial Sea flooded the area and caused a great catastrophe that took the lives of many of its residents. Neuvillette was aware you were in Poisson when the disaster struck, and he tried to get there as quickly as he could to check on you. He would have arrived there immediately were it not for the pressing matters he had to settle prior. He hoped the Traveler and Paimon would find you and keep you safe since they knew you were the Iudex’s beloved.
When he finally made it to Poisson, to his morbid surprise, he found neither you nor Navia, but some Fatui members helping to mitigate the damage. When he asked about your whereabouts, he was told that nobody had seen you. Immediately, his thoughts ventured to the worst scenario, but he refused to believe in his fears until he could get confirmation. He held out hope that you were alright, and went in pursuit of Navia and the Traveler, hoping that maybe you were with them, or they knew what happened to you.
It wasn’t until he was saving Navia from getting dissolved in the Primordial Sea water, did he catch a glimpse of your face. You were trying to protect Navia from certain death, along with Silver and Meluse. At the time he was too anxious about saving Navia to fully register the implication, but an unsettling thought sprang in his mind that maybe you really were— No, he didn’t want to accept it.
When Navia regained consciousness, Neuvillette asked her about your whereabouts. Her answer pierced through him like an ice-cold lance. With tears in her eyes, Navia recounted how you were helping Silver and Meluse rescue the residents of Poisson when the Primordial Sea flooded in, and how she saw your body dissolve in the water along with her loyal subordinates with her own eyes. The news settled in Neuvillette’s stomach like a boulder, causing it to sink and make him feel nauseous. Dread filled him, but he could only muster a quiet “I see…” and stare off into the distance. He felt crushing sadness, but he wasn’t given time to properly process his emotions and your death until he managed to make it out of the ruins.
That evening, Fontaine was hit by a torrential downpour that lasted several days. The rain fell in heavy sheets, flooding the streets and urging most of the citizens to seek shelter in their homes. Only the Chief Justice had the gall to stand outside and let the rain seep and soak through his clothes.
Neuvillette let the water droplets cascade down his face, imitating the tears he wished to shed as the realization that he would never see you again settled in. It was strange. Though he was on land, each waking moment he was pursued by a constant feeling of drowning. His chest felt heavy as if burdened by a great weight that made each breath he took feel like a herculean task.
Neuvillette felt a lot of emotions he couldn’t find the words for. He was frustrated and angry that innocent civilians had died in the flood because nothing was done to prevent it. So many people died. You died. If nothing else, he wanted to get justice for your and the others’ deaths.
However, Furina refused to provide answers to his questions despite his probing and insistence that now was not the time to keep secrets that could potentially help prevent an even greater catastrophe. That was when he turned to seeking aid from his companions, in the hopes that Fontaine could still be saved. Neuvillette lost and gained many things in those few days. The citizens of Fontaine were freed of their curse, and Neuvillette had obtained a position of complete authority, however, it all came at the cost of the lives of innocent civilians, Focalors’s life, Furina’s mental state, and… your life. Those were great prices to pay, and Neuvillette mourned each and every sacrifice.
Now that he had some time to himself to process his feelings, Neuvillette recognized that what he felt was grief and longing. He wanted to see you at least one more time, to feel you in his arms again. To have you taken from him so suddenly was too painful. He never got to tell you one last ‘I love you’, and he could only hope that his words reach you wherever your consciousness might be now. Fontaine will see frequent rainfall in the coming months. It won’t be easy for Neuvillette to get over your death, and some part of him will always ache and yearn to see you again. But one thing he can do is strengthen his resolve to make Fontaine into a nation that both you and Focalors would be proud of. A nation where tragedies like these will never happen again.
🍃 Venti
Venti liked to climb up on high places like his statue in front of the Favonius church, the rooftop of the Cat’s Tail, or the great tree at Windrise. Today, you found him high up in the tree, absentmindedly strumming a new tune on his lyre. Wanting to surprise the bard, you tried your best to climb the tree as quietly as you could, but right as you were about to pop up and surprise him, the branch you were on snapped, and with a heart-stopping shriek, you plummeted down to the ground.
Your scream alerted Venti. He felt your presence before you even started climbing the tree, but he failed to foresee the danger until it was too late. He didn’t react fast enough to summon a gust of wind to safely lower you down. The sickening crunch of your skull hitting the ground made his stomach roil, and for a brief moment he felt as if the blood in his veins turned to ice. He felt frozen in place.
Snapping out of his momentary stupor, Venti rushed to your side to check on you, but the enormous pool of blood blooming around your lifeless body made him throw up.
Not again. He lost someone he loved once more. The painful emotions of losing you triggered a cascade of memories of seeing the broken body of that one boy he called a friend thousands of years ago. The same boy whose face he now wore as a way of honoring his memory and giving him an opportunity to live out his dreams of freedom through Venti.
Venti felt that same feeling of heavy emptiness once again as he cradled your lifeless body in his arms, your blood smearing the white sleeves of his shirt. One of the bard’s hands cradled your still-warm cheek, and he wept. To have you taken away so easily through such a small accident… it was too much.
Venti didn’t attend your funeral. He couldn’t bear to. However, he forced himself to watch from a distance as your loved ones gathered around your grave. He fully empathized with their grief.
In the following days, one could often find Venti at a tavern. He started with Angel’s Share, but after consecutive days of heavy drinking and drunken ramblings about how remorseful he felt and how you deserved better, Diluc put a stop to Venti’s visits. The Anemo Archon wasn’t getting any better from drinking himself into a stupor until he could barely hold himself upright. It was heartbreaking to see.
Even after being banned from the Angel’s Share, Venti would visit other taverns in the city and rinse and repeat. He so badly wanted to numb the pain in his heart and forget the awful memory of your lifeless body. Only after several bans did Venti finally stop coming to the city altogether. He disappeared for a while, and nobody was able to find him. Only after many weeks did the bard suddenly pop up in the town square with his lyre in hand.
During his absence, Venti wrote a few songs as a way to cope with his grief, and after a while, finally felt well enough to play them. As a bard, he was well-known in Mondstadt for playing cheerful and beautiful tunes, but this time his melodies were melancholic, even sad. They listened to him sing about a love he can no longer say ‘I love you’ to anymore, someone he can no longer forge new memories with and can only carry on in his heart as a memory. The music he played captured the attention of every member of the audience and touched their hearts so deeply that they, too, could feel the sorrow the bard was trying to convey through his melodies. His pain became their pain, too. The heartache was so profound, so raw and crippling, that many people couldn’t hold back from crying.
Venti wasn’t playing the songs to earn money or share his sadness with others. He was playing them for you. He hoped that his feelings would reach you wherever you were and that your memory wouldn’t fade away even if he remained the last person alive who knew of your existence. His songs will keep your memory alive in the hearts of the Mondstadt citizens, never to be forgotten.
☂️ Wanderer
You have been fighting chronic sickness for months, but despite the treatments, each week you seemed to get worse and worse. Neither the doctors of Sumeru nor even Nahida herself could figure out a cure for your condition. You were bedridden with barely any strength to move. Wanderer took responsibility for nursing you back to health by helping you get to places you needed, cooking all your meals and feeding you, as well as getting your medicine and administering it.
Despite his efforts, you could tell you wouldn’t last long. While you still had the strength to talk, you apologized to him for being forced to part from him.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed, with a frown pulling at his lips. “Rather than talk about such nonsense, use that energy to get better instead.”
He didn’t want to face the facts, to accept the reality that you could disappear from his life. But then came a day where you no longer opened your eyes when he called your name, nor stirred when he tried to shake you awake. Your body was cold and stiff and so unlike what he was used to seeing you as. The life you possessed was gone in all senses of the word.
Something in Wanderer snapped that day. Falling to his knees, he let out a guttural scream that tore at his vocal cords. He unleashed a wail that carried all the anguish and misery he’d been keeping bottled up inside for hundreds of years. He’s lost so many people he cared for in the past. Each time he met someone he grew attached to, fate would always tear them away from him, and you were no exception.
He cried bitter tears in the privacy of your shared home, cursing Fate for doing this to him over and over again. He was angry and heartbroken. Though he lacked a real heart, the sensation in his chest felt like something inside him broke into a million tiny fragments. As if sharp needles pierced through his non-existent heart and caused him to scream until he lost his voice.
He wanted revenge, but how can one get vengeance against Fate itself?
You were gone, so cruelly torn away from his side despite his best efforts to keep you alive. You were the little ray of light that never gave up on him no matter how cold he was towards you or how much he pushed you away, and helped him heal little by little. You accepted him in his entirety and wormed your way into his non-existent heart, so how dare Fate mock him like this? Wanderer truly felt as if Fate was purposely torturing him by taking away all those whom he held dear.
Helpless and anguished, Wanderer reverted to the days when he used to be Scaramouche, the sixth of the Fatui Harbingers who was infamous for his callousness and mercilessness. His roiling emotions spurred him to repeat these spiteful acts against anyone who got in his way. It was the only way he knew of how to vent these overwhelming emotions that made him feel like he was choking on his grief.
It took Nahida’s interference to calm him down and get through to him that you wouldn’t want him to be like this. The Wanderer you fell in love with wasn’t such a hateful person driven by negative emotions, and though he was loathe to admit it, the God of Wisdom was right.
Having quelled the initial burst of wounded anger, Wanderer would think more clearly about what he should do from now on. He could keep all your items, photographs, and letters, but they would never replace you, only help preserve some of the memories attached to them, which a puppet like him had no need for. He won’t forget even the smallest thing about you, not as long as he’s alive.
Wanderer becomes a regular visitor of your grave, taking care of it so your name won’t be erased from the gravestone by time too quickly. He would frequently bring your favorite foods and flowers and place them in front of your grave, before taking a seat next to it and staring off into the distance without saying a word. He did this mostly at night so he could stargaze, just like how you both used to when you were alive.
Even centuries later, when everyone who knew you took their memories of you to their graves, Wanderer will remain to watch over your final resting place, unwavering in his devotion.
🐺 Wriothesley
You accompanied Wriothesley on another one of his swims out in the open waters surrounding the Fortress. Since you weren’t a vision holder, you had to wear a diving suit to breathe, unlike your beloved Duke. You’ve had these private little swim dates a few times before, so your guard was down when you swam through some jagged areas of the Fortress’s scaffolding. The shoulder of your diving suit caught on a sharp edge of metal and tore a hole in it. The tear was fairly large, and you panicked when you felt water rush inside your suit. Wriothesley was quick to freeze the hole and pull you up to the surface to get the suit off of you, but by the time he did, it was too late. You had inhaled too much water and were unresponsive. Wriothesley tried to keep his anxiety at bay and utilized all the CPR knowledge he learned from Sigewinne to try and save your life. He breathed air into your lungs and did chest compressions with enough force to hear your ribs crack, but even after 30 agonizing minutes of trying, you wouldn’t wake up.
Wriothesley had no choice but to accept the fact you died. Wriothesley doesn’t cry for you. He’s no stranger to death. His exposure to it in his younger years made him all too aware of how easy it is to die, and that death came for all without exception. As a result, he was able to accept your death a little easier than most, but it doesn’t mean he made peace with it. The staff and inmates at the Fortress all said Wriothesley looked the same as usual even after your death. He kept up his laidback yet intimidating demeanor and busied himself with the variety of work someone in his position was required to take care of. Only Sigewinne could tell that Wriothesley was not alright despite all the strained smiles he gave everyone. The bags under his eyes grew more prominent by the day, a clear indicator he wasn’t sleeping well. She saw how he threw himself into his work, barely taking any time to rest properly, as if wanting to keep his mind busy from the horrible memory of seeing your corpse. Though he tried to mask it, in truth, your death affected Wriothesley deeply. He had frequent nightmares about watching you drown and being unable to save you, and they would keep him up at night. He usually awoke in a cold sweat, his heart pounding from intense panic and dread until his mind cleared, only to be replaced with a stone-cold reality that made the feelings of guilt come rushing back. Out of habit, he turns to your side of the bed to seek comfort in your presence but seeing it cold and empty served as yet another harsh reminder that you were gone. Wriothesley can’t sleep after his nightmares, so he opts to work out or fuss over his gauntlets to distract himself from his feelings. It takes all his self-control to keep a lid on his emotions and not become the angry, irritable mess he knows he will be if he’s not careful.
When he makes tea, Wriothesley accidentally makes two cups out of habit. One for you and one for him. Even weeks after your passing, it was still a difficult habit to break. For the first while, Wriothesley would even stop drinking your favorite tea blend because it reminded him of you. Rather than enjoy the flavor, all he tastes is bile in his throat. The flavor of your favorite tea makes him nauseous because it makes him think about how you will never taste this again or have another tea date in his office.
There was one occasion when he tried to drink your tea shortly after your death. He thought maybe the flavor would remind him of the happy times he shared with you, but all it resulted in was a broken teacup from the force of his grip, and Sigewinne fussing over his cuts and burns. He didn’t drink your favorite blend for a long time after that, only being able to find enjoyment in it again many years later when the startlingly clear memory of your death didn’t hurt him as much. Wriothesley felt lonely without you. You were the friend and confidant he told his deepest and darkest secrets about his past, the comfort he sought after a difficult day, and the soothing presence that made him feel accepted for who he was without all the embellished titles. But after your passing, the Fortress of Meropide seemed cold and gloomy, as if devoid of the warmth it once had that made him call it home. It was as if your death snuffed out the little ray of warm sunshine he felt when spending time with you.
#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#alhaitham x reader#childe x reader#tartaglia x reader#heizou x reader#shikanoin heizou x reader#heizou shikanoin x reader#kaveh x reader#lyney x reader#neuvillette x reader#venti x reader#wanderer x reader#scaramouche x reader#kunikuzushi x reader#wriothesley x reader#For some reason Lyney's part is the longest
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THE LAST SAFE PLACE
pairing: idol!beomgyu x fem!soldier reader click here for moodboard
Summary: The world didn’t end with a bang. It ended with a whisper, a deadly virus creeping through the streets, turning the living into something… monstrous.
It was supposed to be a mission. Get in. Get out. Rescue the five a-list boys holed up deep in the city of Seoul. But nothing in this new, broken world is simple anymore.
The dead don’t scare you as much as his starry eyes do—deep brown eyes that make you question if you’re the one who needs saving, after all.
warnings!: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. apocalypse!, survival!, blood!, character!deaths, zombies!, descriptions of!killing, gore!, attempted!sa, menace!reader, anxiety!attacks, signs of!pstd, cursing!, side oc characters, reader has her own last name, pov being switched from reader to beomgyu, mini timeskips, drunk-in-love beomgyu, emotional-baggage, let me know if I missed any! (not proofread, first fic.) smut!warnings: fingering!, oral!fem receiving, missionary, unprotected, slightbody!worship.
wordcount: 30k
notes: Whenever I saw writers call their fic their "baby," I used to wonder what that really felt like. Now here I am, sharing my first-ever fic—my baby—with all of you. It’s far from perfect; I know that. But isn’t that the beauty of writing? I believe we all have room to grow, and so do I.
This fic is inspired by two things I hold dear; Beomgyu (and TXT as a whole) and the idea of finding love in the middle of an apocalypse. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed creating it.
taglist: I just want to say I love you. thank you for giving this story a chance. @beomiracles @agustdiv1ne @binluvsu @saejinniestar @haowonbins @vampzity @usuallyunlikelyfox @gyu-tori @xodidarks @tubasmiracle @hyunelixbun @woncheecks @lovingbeomgyudayone @beomsdoll @baekberrie @parkweylyn @lun4mizuka @lilbrorufr @no1likemybbgcharlie
Saying the military "protects the nation" always felt like a hollow statement to you—something neat and rehearsed, meant for recruitment ads or patriotic speeches, you came to understand it all too well after years of service. Life is fragile, easily dismissed with a single command, and the concept of disobedience isn’t even an option.
You follow orders, make decisions, and carry out tasks already mapped out for you and your team. The oath you swore binds you to honour whatever higher-ups deem necessary for the greater good, no matter the cost. It matters not, even if it costs your life. That’s how it is.
You've lived like that for as long as you can remember, and sometimes you wonder if it’s that very belief—an unwavering fool—that drove you to become the soldier you are. You know by now that it will also be the very reason for your end someday.
The sound of banging at the door jerks you awake. Your eyes strain in the pitch-black darkness of the barracks. You think you might’ve slept, but it doesn’t feel like it—not really. More like you were just drifting in and out of consciousness, never quite at rest.
"Park. Roll Call." You blinked, scrunching your face. The pounding on the door didn't let up, insistent as ever, making it clear there was no chance of them stopping.
"I'm up." You shouted. The cool floor met your bare feet, and you groggily reached for your shoes tucked neatly underneath. Your eyes flicked briefly to the small bottle of sleeping pills on the bedside table. It sat there like an accusation, a stark reminder of the restless hours you spent last night. The tossing, the turning, the damp sheets sticking to your skin as you wrestled with the silence that refused to grant you peace.
You exhaled, rubbing a hand over your face. The pills—felt like the only option. You stared at the bottle, before grabbing it and slipping it into your bag.
Opening the door, you found yourself face to face with a smirking Do-hyun. "Good morning," he said, tone laced with sarcasm. "Except it’s 2:30 a.m. and we’ve got urgent business. Captain’s called us. Did not say anything about it."
"Must be top secret," you muttered, wincing as the harsh overhead light hit your face. You tried to tame your hair, pulling it into a sloppy ponytail. "C'mon."
You fell into step beside Do-Hyun, the sound of your boots hitting the floor echoing down the empty hallways of the garrison. Your shoulders brushed as you walked, the quiet around you almost unsettling. It was way too early—or maybe too late—for anyone to be this awake.
Seeing a few other soldiers from different units, you saw the same thing: them stumbling into their shoes, eyes half-closed, still caught somewhere between sleep and whatever had pulled them out of bed.
Your boots thudded against the floor with each step. Everyone knows the drill—soon enough, you'd find out what the mission was. Probably something you weren’t supposed to ask too many questions about. Face set in a hard, businesslike expression, you could feel another one coming. Another duty. Another unknown.
"This must be a big one," you muttered, scanning the growing crowd of fighters being herded into place. It was rare to see… this many called out at once. "How many teams are they assembling?"
"I don’t know," Do-Hyun replied with a tired sigh, clearly irritated. "I should be asleep, dreaming about anything other than this, but here we are." Early-morning chaos is the only thing that can get under his skin.
You followed him as he turned left down another corridor. People started staring as you passed—from other squads, lingering on the two of you. They knew. They knew who you were.
Black berets. Special Commands Unit. Infamous. You didn’t need to say it aloud; everyone already knows. The reputation of efficiency, precision, and something else—something darker. Your team never, ever failed. Your team didn’t just complete missions. You annihilated them.
That reputation followed you everywhere. You could still feel the weight of their gazes—some filled with admiration, others with something harder to read, maybe even a little fear. It wasn’t new. You’d felt it for years, people looked at you like you were a hero or a big, bad warning.
You were used to it by now.
When you finally enter into the room where your team usually gathers, the moment your eyes land on the team commander, you and Do-yun both instinctively, snap to attention, "Captain Joon. Park Y/N and Jung Do-yun, reporting."
"At ease. Sit down," Captain Joon responds, tone as calm as ever, looking at you directly as if assessing your state. You lower your salute, glancing around at the rest of your teammates already seated. Looks like you’re the last to arrive.
You make your way to an empty seat, crossing your legs as you also folded your arms, leaning back for comfort. You catch the faintest glance from another one of your teammates, Eun-woo, who raises an eyebrow at you but says nothing.
Captain Joon stands at the front, pacing back and forth, usual self missing. He opens his mouth, then stops, words not coming. He closes it again, staring ahead. It’s strange to see him hesitate like this—it’s not like him at all.
"Alright," he starts, avoiding anyone for eye contact. "We’ve got a new mission. It’s… a lot different than what we usually have." You uncross your arms and lean forward without thinking, drawn on the word "different." There’s something about it—his tone, his hesitation, maybe—that makes your stomach clench.
He continues, "This one’s high-risk. We don’t know exactly what we’re walking to. We’ve got intel, but it’s shaky at best; All I know is there’s a virus spreading. Not like Corona. No, it’s not like that. This one… it turns people into something, not human. They become—" He stops, words hanging in the air. "—they kill.. They attack. And they spread it to others. It’s not confirmed yet, but it will be. Soon."
He doesn’t wait for any further response. "We move out in an hour or two. We will be assigned to a specific mission in the middle of this. Get your gear ready. Dismissed." Six pairs of eyes follow him as he exits, leaving a heavy silence in the room. It's cold. It almost feels unreal—like something out of a movie.
You’d been to other countries, thrown into the thick of it—dealing with terrorists, and a hundred other ways to die. After all the things you’d seen, all the wars you’d fought, the idea of a virus outbreak was not the kind of fight you were used to.
"So, a virus? Like zombies?" Seo-jun’s voice breaks the stillness. He stands up, eyes wide with disbelief.
"It's medically impossible." Beom-seok replied, shaking his head, "Or at least… it should be." he added, almost to himself.
"If it's a virus—then what? How are we, supposed to stop that? A plan on how? Is there going to be a… vaccine? Some cure?"
You stand up, movement so subtle yet enough to make the others still, their attention turning to you. "We’ll figure it out," you say, voice firm. You lean back against the table, crossing your arms, "We always do. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it."
Do-hyun shoots you a look, then nods, his expression unreadable. "Right," he says. "We’ll deal with it."
The words hang in the air, and the newly shut door swings open with a loud noise, making everyone turn. A figure stands in the doorway, breathless. "Did you guys see the news?"
"Did you see the news?"
Yeonjun’s hands were trembling as he shoved his phone into Taehyun’s hands, practically forcing him to look. On the screen was a livestream—a news broadcast, but not the usual kind.
Taehyun blinked, his half-asleep face confused as his eyes adjusted to the screen. He stared, his breath catching when he realized what he was watching. He’d never been a fan of gore or horror, and this felt like both—worse, even. The video was chaos: people running, screaming, blood everywhere. Limbs tangled and barely escaping the streets. The sounds of panic—raw, animalistic—clawed at his nerves. He shivered, his voice coming out barely above a whisper. "Is this… a new movie or something?"
Yeonjun swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the phone as he snatched it back, his fingers quickly tapping away at the screen. "No," he said, voice low, "It’s from.. SBS."
"A drama from SBS?" Taehyun asked, still trying to make sense of what he had just seen.
"No," Yeonjun shook his head quickly. "News live stream. It's been trending. Saw it a couple of minutes ago." Panic flared across his face as he started typing furiously, sending messages to his mom. Where are you? Are you safe? Please reply. His heart pounded with every second of silence that followed.
As the phone screen glowed with his continuous text, the sound of a door creaking open interrupted. Soobin stepped out of the bathroom, checking the two of them that seemed frozen in place. "What happened?" he asked, voice laced with concern.
The question was left unanswered when Yeonjun’s phone suddenly rang. A small spark of relief flaring up in his chest—only for it to fade just as quickly.
It wasn’t from his mom. It's their manager, "Hello?"
Taehyun got up to get his own phone, his movements stiff. Soobin stayed by Yeonjun’s side, eyes flicking between the phone in Yeonjun's hand and his face—filled with anxious expression.
"He’ll speak to you. He wants to," Yeonjun said, meeting Soobin's gaze. His voice was uncertain. Yeonjun did not want to miss out on anything, but the manager had already requested for their leader. Soobin nodded, catching the worry in the latter's eyes. He offered a soft tone, "You can put it on speaker."
"Okay, listen up. I don’t know what’s really happening, but it’s dangerous, very dangerous out there. It’s… people eating people. Do not let anyone leave the house. All five of you. You've just had your groceries dropped, right?"
"Yeah, but what’s—" Yeonjun’s voice cracked, but the manager cut him off.
"Again, I don’t know much. None of us do. We heard the president’s about to announce martial law over this. The military’s locking down the city. You can’t go anywhere. All you need to do is stay inside. Help will come. When they get there, they’ll say my name. You’ll know it’s them." Hands trembled slightly as he held the phone, fighting the urge to hang up and try calling his mom again. Soobin saw it, his own anxiety spiking so he stepped closer, placing a steady hand on Yeonjun’s shoulder then taking the phone from his shaky grip.
"How long do we have to stay here?" Soobin whispered. "What about our families? They’re out there too."
"I don’t know," came the reply, the voice on the other end. "This started in Seoul, based on the news. The military’s setting up safe zones in every city around you. They’ll be protected. But no one can get in or out until things settle. Just… stay inside. I’ll keep you updated when I can-" The line went dead. They stared at the phone, signal bar disappearing completely.
"What are we going to do now?" They heard Kai mutter. He’d stepped out of his room after hearing the commotion. "Hiyyih is out here in Seoul too."
"I don’t have a signal now either," Soobin said, glancing at his own phone, face tightening as soon as he saw missed calls from his dad, his mom, and his sister, brother. He has missed their calls. With a frustrated sigh, he grabbed the TV remote and switched it on, only to be met with a busy signal. The screen flickered, in bold letters, the message appeared:
STAY INDOORS. ANY SIGNS OF WOUNDS, FEVER, OR VIOLENT BEHAVIOR—ISOLATE IMMEDIATELY.
He started flipping through the channels, to see something different. But each station showed the same warning. Taehyun returned, his face heavy with worry. "I got through to my mom, but she was crying too much to say anything. Just told me to stay safe."
Yeonjun was silent. He didn't know what to do, unsure if this was some elaborate prank. Looking around the room, suddenly realised something. "And where the hell is Beomgyu?"
"Sleeping."
A scream pierced the air outside the dorm room, making all of them jump in shock. Kai was the first to react, quickly moving toward the door and peering through the peephole. For a brief moment, there was nothing—just eerie silence. Then, a thump echoed, followed by continuous pounding on the steel door.
"Help!" The voice outside cried, voice hoarse. Shuffling was heard.
"Kai, get here!" Soobin hissed, Kai moved back, frozen in place, gaze still fixed on the door. Slowly, he crossed the room, his footsteps making no sound, cautious as he approached the youngest. He then grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back, away from the door. "Stay away from the door,"
Four men stood paralyzed, eyes wide and locked on the door, afraid that it might open, every muscle tense. The door vibrated with each pound from the other side, and the sound of another scream sent a chill down their spines.
Waiting in terrified silence, hoping whatever was outside would stop.
Yeah. They definitely shouldn’t go outside.
It had been seventy-two hours since the government declared the state of emergency.
Seventy-two hours, since the virus outbreak hit the public, and almost everything began to spiral out of control. Your team had been pushed from one task to the next—helping transport, fortifying armoury barricades, trying to keep the city standing. You feel like you couldn't even have time to blink.
Nothing seemed to stand a chance against the speed of the virus.
The radio crackled to life, its voice cutting through the tense silence. "It’s reported that some cases have been found outside of Seoul too."
You swallowed, the water in your canteen suddenly feeling too heavy in your mouth. Your rifle was strapped to your back—knives tucked into your pockets pulled at your clothes, a grim necessity. Your backpack packed with supplies, pulled at your shoulders.
The blood on the streets made your face contort. It wasn’t just the sight of it—it was the knowledge that innocent people, civilians, were the ones who’d ended up here. It was their blood staining the ground, their lives cut short. In just seventy-two hours, this outbreak had become a full-blown mad nightmare. It was real, right here—heavy, like the world had already started to fall apart around you.
"How long?" you asked, trying to shake the unease gnawing at your stomach.
"The report came in an hour ago," came the response. An hour. Sixty minutes. That’s all it took for the virus to spread. An hour, it was no longer just the city.
"There’s still some armory left in this area," Captain Joon says, brushing off the latest intel your team just received. "We need to clear this out, then head back to camp for the next mission."
You slip the water bottle back into the side pocket of your backpack and tilt your head back, stretching out any stiffness. It's been almost twenty-four hours since you last slept.
"Ju-won will come with us."
"The newbie?" Ji-ho raises an eyebrow.
But the thing is, he’s not really a newbie. The military doesn’t just let anyone into the special command unit—you have to be overqualified to even get a chance. People are reacting this way because it’s been years since anyone new has joined. They’re not used to it. The whole thing feels a little odd.
The boy walks forward. You glance at him, and it’s clear right away. The way his body stiffens when he sees seven seasoned soldiers in front of him—he can’t be more than twenty. But, something about the way he carries himself catches your attention. His eyes don’t drop, not even for a second. There’s no sign of hesitation or backing down, even as the rest of you appraise him, silently evaluating his physical presence. It’s almost as if he expects to be here, like he belongs.
He's got guts.
"Captain," he saluted, "Min Ju-won. Sent from Unit Two to provide additional assistance. Engineering."
Captain Joon gave a quick nod, his eyes briefly shifting to you. "Stick with Y/N." Ju-won lowered his salute and jogged over to where you stood.
"We leave in 10 minutes,"
Seo-jun let out a low whistle, looking over Ju-won with a grin. "Well, look what we got here. A kid at the end of the world. What a nice day it is." The sarcasm in his voice hung in the air as he effortlessly adjusted his M4.
"Ignore him. He's a twat," you muttered, clicking your tongue and feigning an attempt to kick Seo-jun's leg for his comment.
Ju-won, just smiled and waved it off, his eyes still locked on you with an almost admiration. "It's alright," he said quickly. "Y/N… then I must be looking at the black beret's most skilled team engineer and sharp-shooter."
"Damn right, she is," Do-Hyun chimed in, grinning as he playfully ruffled your hair. You slapped his hand away, the motion half-hearted but familiar.
The wind howled as the cargo truck went down the rugged road, the engine's hum barely audible over the gusts. Beom-Seok was at the wheel, while Captain Joon sat in the passenger seat, checking the horizon. The other six of you were crammed in the back, weapons ready.
You could feel that someone was watching you. You turned your head to the right, and sure enough, there he was—Ju-won, looking at you with an expression that was oddly calm for a day like this. You chewed absently on the sweet gum in your mouth.
"I’ve always heard your name, even when I was still training," he said almost embarrassed, but there was a hint of respect in his words, "A lot of us admire your skills. We even know your schedule—like when you will drop off at the headquarters."
"Yeah?" You raised an eyebrow, curious but not particularly moved. "What am I supposed to do with that?"
Ju-won grinned, unfazed. "And, of course, your temper is well-known too."
You snorted at that. Of course, it was. You'd made more than one higher-up nearly pass out with your snark and disregard.
Most of them acted like you were supposed to kiss their feet, even though they barely had the skills to back it up—just a good last name and a father in a high place. Lucky bastards. They got used to it—eventually.
Ju-won seemed to pause, thinking for a moment. "I want to be like you."
It caught you off, staring at him, no response from your lips. Who would want to be as miserable? Who in the right mind would? No one should have to carry this kind of burden, no one but you.
"You don’t know anything," you said, right after seconds of silence. "Trust me, you don’t."
Ju-won didn’t seem discouraged by your bluntness. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, "Then maybe I can ask questions to get to know you better?"
"No." You're unsure of where he was going with this.
"Just one then? And if I do well on this mission, I can ask for another one after?" He pumped his fist after your silence, the small gesture that made you want to roll your eyes again.
"How old were you when you joined the military?" His voice was gentle, but his curiosity was clear.
It wasn’t a question people often asked, at least not in the way he asked it. Most were interested in your skills, the missions you’d completed, or the stories you could tell. No one, ever cared much about who you were before all that.
"About seventeen, officially," you replied, the words feeling strange in your mouth. Had it really been that long?
"Woah," Ju-won exclaimed, his eyes wide with surprise. "And how long have you been in service?"
You glanced out at the passing landscape, your thoughts briefly drifting to the years that had passed. "Seven years. Counting."
"You're so cool." His gaze flicked to you a few more times, but he didn’t press further.
The only sound in the pitch-black courtyard was the soft shuffle of footsteps against gravel, your team moved cautiously toward the overrun military outpost. It had been more than twenty-four hours since anyone radioed in, and in your line of work, that could only mean one thing.
Defeat. Death. They’re dead.
You gripped the AR-15 in your hands, its weight and feel as familiar as your own skin. Your eyes stayed locked ahead, scanning the shadows, the captain just a few steps in front of you. You could feel Ju-won’s breath on your back.
"Hold." The captain's voice barely rose above a whisper, but you caught it—sharp and commanding. His hand went up in a familiar gesture, signaling. Eun-woo and Ji-ho moved, splitting off to cover the blind spots—each one wary of possible exits or hidden threats.
The minutes stretched on, almost suffocating. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, when faintly, a soft whistle.
A go signal. Finally.
The captain’s eyes flicked to you. Without words, he surged forward, and you followed, close, moving deeper into where the map was marked.
With Eun-woo and Ji-ho still posted at the entrance of the courtyard, and Beom-seok at the Cargo Truck to secure on the road, the remaining five of you moved carefully toward the building’s entrance.
Seo-jun reached for the rail handle and pulled it. It was a split-second decision, but he made the mistake of opening it too wide, too fast. The sound was deafening in the silence—a loud scrape of metal against metal. It was the darkness. Or maybe it was the way no one had heard anything.
The infected—so many of them—started to emerge from the inside, their eyes hungry, limbs jerking unnaturally as they snarled and gnawed at the space where you stood.
"Shut it off!" was yelled, but it was too late. Seo-jun tried desperately to pull the door, but the dead were already pushing their way through, toppling the door with brutal force. No stopping them now.
The growls, their gurgling moans, flooded. You took a step back, when you noticed the next wave of infected closing in from both sides—right and left. The courtyard was becoming a death trap.
“Guns!” Captain Joon barked, voice sharp and urgent. He raised his rifle, opening fire on the approaching dead, and you followed. You didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. You aimed at the nearest infected, firing with the precision you’d drilled into your muscle memory. Beside you, you felt Ju-won moving, his shots echoing through the chaos.
You kicked one of the infected coming too close toward you—hard. The sickening crack of its skull as it spun from the impact of your boots almost drowned out the growls, relief was fleeting—another wave was already pushing through.
"Move!" you shouted to Ju-won, grabbing him by the shoulder and shoving him to the right side, where it seemed there was a slight gap in the swarm. You followed, not letting up on your fire. Each shot to the head was methodical, each kill necessary for survival.
You kept repeating it in your head—headshots. Headshots, or they don’t die.
Through the haze of gunfire and screams, you spotted Do-hyun on the opposite side, surrounded but still fighting, his rifle a blur as he tried to hold the line.
"Captain!" you shouted, your voice rising over, as you saw the widening gap between your team. You continued firing, shots ringing out, each one a desperate attempt to keep the tide of the dead at bay. You grabbed the arm of an infected that crept up from behind, pulling it sidewards with all your strength. The thing flailed, but you kicked its legs out from under it, slamming its head down with a close shot. Blood splattering on your track pants.
Another bullet whizzed past you, too close, and you turned to meet Ju-won’s eyes. There was no time for words. He’d just taken down one of the infected that had come up behind you.
Minutes passed, but it felt like hours. The gunfire echoed in your ears, drowning out everything else. Then, you heard it—Seo-jun’s voice cutting through the noise.
"Captain. Orders!"
It was a soldier’s instinct, that need for direction even in the face of death. It was what you were trained to do, what you had to do.
"Fall back." His command came. The words you’d been waiting for. You began to step back, scanning the darkened courtyard. And then, just as you thought it couldn’t get worse, you saw it—a wave of infected flooding out from the building. Your eyes locked on one of them, a child, no more than twelve, wearing a middle school uniform.
No. No time to mourn, no time to think. You shake it off, turn your attention back to Ju-won, who was already falling back as well.
You ran, but it was a futile attempt. The middle part of the courtyard, the one that had been empty moments ago, was now swarming with infected.
“Go forward!” Captain Joon’s shouted again.
The sound of gunfire, the screams, the snarls—they were all blending together now. You saw Eun-woo and Ji-ho still at the entrance of the courtyard, firing relentlessly. But there were too many. It had to be the sound of all the gunfire—had to be why they were flooding in from the other buildings now.
You couldn’t run without firing. The infected were, too close for comfort.
“Ahhh!”
Ju-won’s scream tore through the noise, and you whipped your head to the side. You saw him—surrounded by four, maybe five infected. Their gnarled hands reaching for him.
You sprinted forward, the gun dropped in an instant. You reached the closest infected, grabbing its hair and yanking its head back with force. The knife you’d pulled was a flash of silver in the darkness, and you slashed it across its throat, the blade biting into the flesh with a wet sound.
You couldn’t fire. Not with Ju-won so close to them.
You felt Do-hyun and Seo-jun near you now, forming a small circle, keeping the infected at bay while you worked to free Ju-won. One by one, you killed the infected around him within seconds. But when the last one finally dropped, you froze for the first time tonight.
There's a wound. The bite. A deep, angry stash on Ju-won’s neck, blood spilling down his chest, soaking through and colouring his shirt. Your heart stopped.
"Y/N…" His voice was weak. Too weak.
"Come on," you said, trying to drag him to his feet. The others were silent, at the sight.
"Help me!" you shouted, the panic finally breaking through as the infected kept coming. "What the fuck are you staring at? Help me!"
Do-hyun snapped out of his thoughts and rushed to help. He moved to slide his arm under the left side, but before he could get a firm grip, Ju-won's hand shot out, pushing him away.
"Leave me."
"No. Come on."
“Just leave me, Y/N.” he whispered again, "I know I can't be helped."
“I’m not having this conversation—”
“It hurts!” Ju-won suddenly shouted, pain in his voice. His lips were turning blue, face pale, eyes glassy with tears. “It hurts so much. I—I want this to just end. End it. Please. I'm begging you.”
Your breath caught in your throat. He started crying, Min Ju-won.
“Y/N?” Do-hyun’s voice broke through, gunshots ringing, “Decide now.” Seo-jun’s voice was distant, more gunfire ringing out, words clear. He was asking you to make a choice.
"Shh, It’s going to be okay," you murmured, wiping his tears away, "Everything’s going to be okay." You pushed the sweat-damp strands of hair from his forehead, fingers brushing against his cold skin. “You’ll be alright.”
Min Ju-won.
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” You leaned in close, feeling his weak attempt to smile on your neck, breath coming out in ragged gasps when he felt you pressed your knife to the back of his head. “It’s okay, Ju-won.”
Making sure to do it quickly, you didn’t want him to suffer—not even for a second. He stilled, and then there was a quiet exhale against your skin. His last breath.
Arms went limp in your embrace.
Min Ju-won.
You stare at your hands, blood too much, not yours, too obvious to wipe away. The vehicle lurches forward, but nothing about this mission feels like it’s worth it. No weapons recovered. And one less soldier with you.
You ignore the stares of your teammates, the silent questions they’re too scared to ask. Even when your captain demands what happened, you can’t find the words.
Death isn’t new to you.
You’ve seen it, lived with it, had to pull the trigger more times than you care to admit. Had to deal with it more times than you'd care to count. But this… this is different. There’s a heaviness in your throat that won’t lift—can still feel him, still hear his laboured breath as you hold him in your arms.
The dog tags in your hand are cold against your palm. They’re not yours. There were too many of them. The infected.
No one could even bring his body back.
"We're here," Eun-woo says, the vehicle finally pulls to a stop at your temporary camp. He'd been staring out the window for the entire ride, lost in thought, barely noticing the road or time. You don’t wait for anyone to open get out. You push yourself out, body stiff and eyes burning, but you do your best not to let anyone see. You try to blink away the moisture, to keep it together. You can’t. You won’t.
“Y/N, I—” Seo-jun starts, his voice hesitant, reaching for you.
"Save it." you snap, harshly, not letting him finish his sentence. He falters at your glare, watching turn and walk straight for the barracks, not even sparing a second glance in his direction.
Your body, with blood, not yours, and the dog tag around your hands swaying with every step.
"Give her space. She did it herself. Again." Do-hyun’s voice is softer, almost reluctant, as he watches you retreat. His eyes follow you, lost in thought.
Maybe it’s because you’re a woman and they’re all men, or maybe because you’ve always been the youngest, they've known you since you were much younger. Or maybe it’s the fact that they’ve never seen you crack, never once seen you break down when they all have at one point or another. After all these years, when they themselves had crumbled, you always seemed to keep it together. You always did. First... they admired how strong you were—physically, emotionally, mentally—and even envied it at times but as time went on, they started to realise something.
The empty look in your eyes—it's haunting. They all knew what you did for them, what you'd sacrificed.
Ji-ho pats Seo-jun’s shoulder, his face mixed with understanding and exhaustion. He points his head toward the door, a silent suggestion to let you have your space.
You stepped inside the massive military tent, the hum of conversations halting as everyone’s gaze turned toward you. You noticed someone even take a hesitant step back, eyes widening.
"I'm not fucking bitten," You didn't pause to explain further. You couldn’t. Instead, you kept walking, ignoring the stares, the whispers that you could practically feel on your skin. You didn't care, walking past the soldiers, the stares heavy on your back. You made your way to your assigned makeshift door, pulling it open and stepping inside.
The small room felt like the only place you could breathe. The bathroom was the next thing you could think of.
Once inside, you slumped onto the cold, unforgiving floor. Your face landed near the toilet, and before you brace yourself, your stomach churned. The contents from your day—what little you had managed to eat—came up violently. It kept going, feeling your body betray you as your throat burned, as your muscles contracted in spasms. The bile, bitter taste, nausea kept pushing until your stomach was empty and you felt nothing but raw, aching emptiness.
You dry your mouth with the back of your filthy hand, smell of blood still lingering in your nostrils. The memory of it—of what you'd seen, what you just did—threatened to send you over the edge again. You fought the urge to gag.
You knew it wasn’t something Seo-jun should be explaining for. He called you earlier, sounding like he wanted to apologize, wanted to make sure you were okay. But you didn’t want to tell him everything was fine. Because it wasn’t. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know what was waiting for you inside that damned place. He didn’t know the hundreds of the dead you'd have to face. He tried his best too, just like you did. But none of that mattered.
Killing is easy. You had convinced yourself that—it was something you could do without blinking now. Maybe you could even kill with the same ease as walking a dog in the park, that it could become second nature.
You killed someone who had just started to make you wonder—what question they would be asking you after the mission. Something small, something so... human. With your own hands. No real reason. No justification. For the sake of getting equipment. You killed him.
It wasn’t supposed to feel like this.
With effort, you flushed the toilet, then let your body slide back to the nearest wall. Once it was done, you let yourself slump back against the nearest wall, Your fingers digging into your face as if you could erase the last few hours just by pressing hard enough. Sweat, cold and clammy, trickled down your forehead.
"Y/N," came a voice from outside the door.
Captain Joon. You didn't respond. You didn’t even move. "Rest," he said, his voice softer than usual, "You're needed for another mission after a couple of hours. Rest, fix yourself, and take a bath."
"Did you just take a bath?" Taehyun asked, seeing Beomgyu’s damp hair, towel draped around his neck, few droplets of water still clinging to his skin.
Beomgyu nodded, not even looking up from the crackers he was munching on.
"Again?"
"You got a problem with that?" Beomgyu’s house slipper flew through the air toward Taehyun’s. It was effortlesly dodged.
"Why are you taking a bath three times a day?"
Beomgyu shrugged, gaze finally lifting to meet Taehyun's. "There's nothing else to do,"
Taehyun paused, small ache in his chest upon the words. Being an idol, he knew well the activities—packed schedules, comebacks, fan events, concerts. It never stopped. Hell, he could not even remember the last time he’d celebrated his birthday with his family.
Beomgyu exhaled sharply, "It's been four days… You think our families are okay out there?"
Every day now was a reminder—waking up to the reality of the virus outbreak, everything at a stop.
"They should be," Taehyun replied, though he didn’t feel as sure as he sounded. "We're the ones stuck here."
Beomgyu didn’t answer, instead shuffling his trash away. Just then, Kai appeared from the bathroom, face slack with disappointment.
"Guys, the water’s stopped."
Yeonjun jumped from his seat, rushing to check the sinks, only to find no water coming out. "Shit."
Beomgyu bit his lip, frustration bubbling inside him. Just when things couldn’t seem to get worse. The isolation, the fear—it was all becoming too much now. It's growing every day. He stood up, ignoring Soobin’s frantic voice as he tried to save whatever little water they had left.
He shut himself in his room, the door clicking softly behind him. His eyes wandered to the small house model his family had made for him—a little reminder of home, something he would look at whenever he needed to feel close to them. He collapsed onto his unmade bed, staring blankly at the white ceiling, his thoughts made up mix of thoughts and scenarios. Maybe there was a miracle out there—something, anything, to change this.
Minutes passed in silence before Beomgyu’s voice broke the stillness. "I hope there’s an angel out there. Someone who’ll come get us… get me. Out here, to a safe place." His heart thudded painfully in his chest—he knew no one would ever hear those words, but he couldn’t help but hope.
You slowly make your way toward the apartment complex, the team had decided to move under the cover of darkness again—it drew fewer infected and lowered the chances of running into trouble. At least that’s what your team hoped for.
The freshly laundered combat uniform felt like it was made for you. The black fabric, almost matte, clung to your body, moving with you as if it were a second skin. Your boots, worn but sturdy, held you grounded. Each step was sure. They gave you that solid grip. On your hips, the twin knives sat, steel blades catching the light with a faint, almost imperceptible gleam. Your hair was pulled back, tight in a high knot. Not a strand is out of place.
The mission was clear: rescue the five A-list boys trapped in this building, ever since the outbreak began.
Hybe, was the one who went to the military for help. They couldn’t exactly say no to them—so here you are, walking into a situation you can’t quite predict.
Six of you, without Beom-seok to secure the vehicle on the road as usual—all armed and ready, step closer to the entrance of the block—though you spot a few infected lingering around, they’re silently dealt with. A knife to the head, no noise, no struggle—just clean and quick.
Your captain’s biggest worry is the location. The middle of the city. So many people in such a small space can only mean one thing—too many infected. It’s a risk, but it’s the job. That is exactly why these people are stuck here in the first place. No help has been able to get through until your team was sent in.
"It's here," Eun-woo says, pointing toward the stairs in the corner. He folds the marked map and tucks it away. Captain Joon nods, "One by one. Be aware of your surroundings."
Everyone gives a tight nod, moving quickly to follow his instructions. You scanned every corner, every shadow. You don’t miss a thing. There are a few infected nearby, but they have not noticed you. So long as they don’t see or hear, and you’re far enough, you’ll be fine.
Earlier, it was also clear that most of the infected in this area are concentrated in the outer courtyard. It looks like the people who lived here panicked, tried to escape out there, drawing all the infected away from the apartment complex itself. It’s eerily quiet now, almost too quiet.
You reach the door to apartment 304, and the rest of your team spreads out, covering all sides of the hallway. You catch your breath, scanning both directions again, alert to any movement. Someone begins to knock on the door. Minutes tick by, but there’s no answer.
"Are they fucking asleep?" Ji-ho whispers, his voice sharp with impatience.
"What do you expect?" you snap,"You think they’re awake at this hour, just waiting for us to show up?" The words feel bitter, but you don’t care. "Move,"
Before you can even make a move toward the door, a voice breaks the silence. It's soft, hesitant, almost as if the person speaking is scared to even let the words out.
"Who’re you?"
Kai had been just about to head to the bathroom for a quick piss when he heard it—an soft rattle against the door.
It’s been days, days, since there was any sound from the other side. Complete silence. So hearing something now, especially in the dead of night, made his blood run cold.
Someone’s trying to break in?
He freezes, mind racing. Slowly, he walks towards the door, arms out in front of him, keeping a little distance like it might somehow help. His breath is shallow as he inches closer to the small peephole in the door, just enough to get a glimpse.
Soobin made him promise not to go near the door, but he won’t know. He’s asleep, anyway.
There are people out there. No, not just people—soldiers? At least three men and a woman, he's not really sure, but they're standing and staring straight at their door. He can’t make out their words, sound too muffled, but he can tell they’re muttering something under their breath, heads tilted as if they’re listening too.
Woah. She’s… really pretty.
Kai immediately shakes his head. Focus. Now is not the time to be thinking about how pretty she is. She’s out there, trying to break the door down. Or… is she?
What if they’re the ones sent to rescue us?
He squints through the crack in the door again, taking in the soldiers’ uniforms. They’re military. That has to mean something—and waking the others would take too long. He swallows hard, asking the question.
"Who’re you?"
"Open the door," Captain Joon says, his voice firm and immediate. "We've come to help you." There’s no reply from the other side.
"Manager Jisoo. Hybe."
There’s a sound of the lock turning, and the door creaks open just a crack. It’s dim inside. The air inside hits you. Smells faintly of candles—probably because there’s no electricity to rely on anymore. One by one, everyone got ready to move inside. You turned your head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of the person who had opened it.
He looked young—his skin pale and features sharp, with a foreign look. His bangs messily hung over his eyes, longer than he probably intended. Your eyes met his, and just as quickly, he looked away. Great. You all must have really scared him—heavily armed, arriving at his dorm in the dead of night.
"We're all coming in, Son," Captain Joon said, gaze flicking to the boy’s face, silently asking for permission—though he did not really need it. You were here to rescue them, to bring everyone back. Whether they were ready or not, you were going in. "What's your name?"
He nodded and opened the door wider. "Heuningkai. Kai is fine."
"How many of you are still in here?"
"Five. Uh, I’ll need to wake everyone up first."
"Go on." You took in the space they had been holed up in. Everything screamed lived in. Floors wooden tiles. It was clean, considering men were living in this place. Some sweaters were carelessly tossed over the couch, an Uno card sat beside it, random orange peels and a few glass mugs were scattered across the table. But aside from that, everything seemed… orderly. Something about this space made you feel out of place.
"Could you please wait here?" Kai stopped after taking a few steps away from your team. The front door shut behind. You glanced at him as he spoke, and you saw it—his face.
It was almost like he was afraid that if he turned around, everyone would just... leave.
He didn’t give anyone a chance to respond. Without another word, he turned and headed for the nearest door. You took in the hallway—six doors in total. One of them was probably the bathroom, and the rest, you guessed, must be their rooms.
Kai walks in, still feeling the embarrassment creeping up his neck. He did not mean to pout or sound so desperate in front of everyone—it just kind of happened.
The whole outbreak had him on edge all the time. It wasn’t like him at all. But now, for the first time in a while, he's starting to see hope. And with that came a fear he hadn’t expected.
He shuts the door behind him, eyes flick to Soobin, who’s sprawled out on the bed in his usual weird sleeping position. One arm thrown over his face, legs tangled in the sheets like he’s trying to escape them.
If anything, it’s comforting to see Soobin still so… Soobin.
"Wake up," Kai says, giving Soobin’s arm a little shake. There’s no response. "Soobin,"
He just mumbles something unintelligible and stays still. With a sigh, Kai slaps the flesh of Soobin's thigh—a trick he’s learned always works when he's in deep sleep.
"Shi—Kai?" The latter groans, blinking his eyes open. He winces slightly, almost about to curse, but then he notices the younger one standing there, looking a little shaken, and his protective instinct kicks in. "What happened? Are you okay?"
"They’re here. They—the help. They’re outside. I let them in." The older man shot up, his mind struggling to shake off the remnants of sleep. For days, he'd been waiting for this moment, but now that it was here, he could hardly believe it.
Soobin looked at Kai’s face, searching for any sign of bluffness. None.
"Wake everyone up, Kai. I’ll, I'll talk to them. Good job," he said, his voice thick with a mix of urgency and something else—nervousness, maybe. He ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to steady his racing heart.
The younger gave a quick nod, already rising to carry out the task.
Soobin hesitated for a moment, then followed, his feet heavier than usual. When he stepped out of his room, the sight hit him. Soldiers.
All dressed in black, standing almost stiffly in the cramped living room, as if they did not know where to place themselves, presence filling every corner. They looked out of place—one man was sitting, looking collected. He was much older—maybe in his late 40s—and when he saw Soobin, he stood up too, moving with authority.
"Hello," Soobin said, bowing deeply. He wished his voice to be normal, but it cracked. His eyes stung, and he blinked, trying to hold back the tears likely to spill. These people—they look so capable.
How desperately he’d needed them.
"I know it's late, but we need to move now. It’ll make things easier for us," Captain Joon started.
Everyone had gathered in the living room now—eleven people, all listening. A large map was spread out on the table in front of them, marked with lines and notes. "We’ve got a cargo truck on standby, and someone guarding it. Waiting for us,"
You leaned against the wall at the back, trying to stay out of the way. Your long gun resting to your right side. You crossed your arms, observing them all, taking in the scene. These five—when they first arrived, you’d seen it clearly: that fleeting, unguarded emotion that flashed across their faces. Relief? Fear?
Your thoughts drifted for a moment, the hum of voices fading, when suddenly you caught something. One of them was looking at you. You met his gaze, and for a second, neither of you moved. His eyes were a soft brown, almost warm, framed by dark hair that was swept back but still fell messily across his forehead. His jaw was sharp, yet there was something almost delicate about it. Something… soft.
You raised an eyebrow at him, just a slight challenge, and he blinked, startled. He bowed his head in your direction awkwardly—before you could return it, his eyes darted away quickly. Followed by a deep shade of red that crept into the tips of his ears.
He didn’t look back at you again—as though he couldn’t look at you a second longer.
Little did you know, when you weren’t paying attention, his eyes would steal a few more glances in your direction, each one shorter, but no less curious.
"We'll travel this way, and you all will be dropped off here at this camp, as requested. Understand?"
"And, we can just bring a backpack each?" Soobin asks, looking around the group. He’d introduced himself as the leader earlier.
"That doesn't mean you can just throw anything in there," you replied, finally speaking up, giving your first words tonight. "Keep it light. Only pack what you really need." Captain Joon gave a slight nod, acknowledging your point.
"Got it,"
"While we're at it," Captain Joon continued, “since we’ll be traveling together, it’s probably best you get to know the people you’ll be with. Just in case something goes wrong.” The mention of anything happening seemed to linger in the air. The five of them had never seen an infected before. You all know that can cause problems.
"As you probably already know, I'm the Captain of this team," Joon said, he shot a quick glance at you before going on.
"Park Y/N," he nodded in your direction, "our engineer sergeant. She’s the one who builds stuff, blows stuff up—whatever needs doing, really. She's my second-in-command."
Beomgyu has a valid reason to look at you now. And when he thought he never be more mesmerized, somehow, he was.
Earlier, when he first stumbled out of bed and woken by Kai, he wandered into the living room, still half-dazed. He was caught off guard on how… beautiful you were. He’d seen soldiers, sure, but you? You were different. You looked like you belonged on a magazine cover—not out here, in the middle of a hellscape.
How are you, not a celebrity? he wonders, half-wanting to slap himself. How are you so beautiful, standing here, in the middle of this nightmare? The strangest thing, though, was the pull in his chest—even though he’d only just learned your name. Even your name—sounds pretty.
"Do-hyun," Joon said, pointing to a man near you, "he's in charge of our comms—makes sure we stay connected. Keeps the radios running, that sort of thing." Do-hyun gave a lazy salute, a smirk playing on his lips.
"That’s Eun-woo and Ji-ho," Joon went on, pointing to two others standing with confidence. "They’re our weapons experts—know every damn thing about fixing, maintaining, and using all our weapons. They also take inventory, make sure we’re stocked up when we need to move out."
"And then there's Seo-jun," Joon said, nodding toward a tall, figure standing slightly apart from the rest like you. "Does the planning, the strategizing. And last but not least, Beom-seok. He’s the one left behind—our medic.”
"You can pack now. We'll wait here. We’ve got food rations on the truck, so you can eat there." Captain Joon finally ends the conversation.
The five of them stand up and start making their way to their rooms.
Beomgyu exhales a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. The air feels lighter as he steps into his room. They're finally getting out here.
He stands in front of his closet for a few seconds, unsure of what to grab first. He picks up his backpack and starts shuffling through his things—some clothes, and his hygiene kit that Taehyun had already packed for him. He opens his drawer and realizes he’ll need to change out of his pajamas. A plain shirt, some cargo pants, his jacket… and where the hell are his boots? Before he can finish, he hears the door creak open.
"Beomgyu," Yeonjun’s says. "That chick’s really cute."
Beomgyu freezes, his hand mid-reach for his shoes. He blinks and turns to face Yeonjun. "Have you packed your stuff, or do you think we’ve got all the time in the world?"
Yeonjun raises an eyebrow, looking slightly taken aback. "Geez, chill. Why are you being so mad?"
Beomgyu hesitates. He doesn’t really know. It could be the way Yeonjun had interrupted his packing, or maybe… maybe it’s because Yeonjun’s casually saying something like that. Beomgyu feels something twist in his stomach.
Yeonjun thinks you’re pretty. He doesn’t know how to deal with that.
"'M sorry,"
Yeonjun watches him closely. "Was it because of what I said—"
"No."
A knock sounds on the door. Both of them turn toward it. Eun-woo peeks his head inside, his expression casual. "We're just waiting for the two of you, and then we're off."
"Let's go,"
The only sound is the steady rhythm of feet against the ground. Your team is spread out, moving in a loose pattern. Captain Joon, Seo-jun, and Ji-ho take the lead, scanning the surroundings. Soobin and Kai walk close behind, hand in hand. Taehyun and Beomgyu follow next, then Yeonjun.
You, along with Do-hyun and Eun-woo, bring up the rear. It’s all going smoothly. You’re alert, watching the others, everything seems calm—until you notice Yeonjun. He’s suddenly still, his body frozen in place. You glance over and follow his line of sight.
In the open space ahead, a small group of infected wander aimlessly. Movements are jerky, unnatural, and the growls that escape their throats are low and guttural. One of them is lying on the ground, its torso half severed, intestine out, but its arms are still twitching, dragging itself forward in a grotesque imitation of life.
Yeonjun’s breathing stops entirely, his chest barely rising and falling. He’s staring at them, wide-eyed, body tense. You step up and place a hand on his shoulder. The touch makes him flinch.
"Shhh," you whisper, barely audible. The last thing you need right now is anyone making noise. One sound, one slip-up, and the infected will be on you. "Move. Eyes front—Don't… do not look at them."
He does not respond at first, you’re not even sure if he’s even hearing you. His eyes check the infected again, then back to the ground. He swallows. Finally, he nods, voice tight, "Yeah."
You give him a push on the back, enough to get him moving. It was a relief to see Yeonjun walking. You exhaled slowly, locking eyes with Do-hyun. He'd seen it all. That look between you two was enough to say it all: they weren’t ready for this. They hadn’t been told nearly enough.
Everyone kept walking, the building’s echoing silence wrapping around you as you neared the first level. It wasn’t far now—just out the main door, across the block, and then Beom-seok would be waiting for you on the road. The end was in sight.
"Shit!" Soobin’s voice is loud, his hands pressed against his chest in surprise. He hadn’t expected it. A woman, infected, eyes wide open, slumped lifelessly in a chair in the lobby. Her body was barely recognizable, rotting, the decay setting in.
No one moved. You spun around, doubt kicking in, scanning the lobby for any movement. Kai gripped Soobin’s hand tighter, his fingers digging in just enough. Soobin looked at him—a silent apology, a promise to do better.
It was only a minute, before Captain Joon finally moved. You stepped out of the building, the fresh air hitting you in a way that almost felt too good. The five newcomers, still adjusting to the chaos, kept their gazes fixed ahead, careful not to glance at the herd gathering in the open space nearby.
Then you saw him—Beom-seok. Leaning against the tires on the road, his eyes sweeping the distance, waiting. "Took you long enough," Beom-seok mutters, his eyes looking at you as he watches you approach.
One by one, everyone began climbing into the truck. Ji-ho caught your eye, giving you a quick signal to get in.
"Yeah? Are you bored or something?" Seo-jun shoots back, his tone teasing.
You gripped Ji-ho's hand, pulling yourself up the tall cargo bed. You paused, glancing down at Taehyun and offering your hand. He grasped it firmly, and with one smooth pull, you helped him up. He meets your gaze and gives a nod, a thank you.
Beomgyu was next, and Ji-ho was beside you, helping Yeonjun up. Kai and Soobin were already settled inside chatting quietly, and the truck was starting to feel a little more like a secure place.
You let your hand fall, but it only took a second for Beomgyu to extend his own.
Soft. Warm. It feels different somehow.
Beomgyu feels your hand—still shielded by your tactical gloves, but with the fingertips exposed. Even through the fabric, he can feel the warmth of your skin. It’s subtle, and for some reason, it’s enough to make his heart beat a little faster. You gripped his hand, pulling him up with the same ease as you did with Taehyun.
He’s finally out—the one they’d been stuck in, waiting, starving. Water was running low, food was practically gone and no electricity. It’s been days. Time blurred together in there. He’d tried his hardest not to let his emotions spill over, even when his mind kept replaying all the times he’d imagined getting out. All the moments he’d prayed for this. And now, it’s real.
He's here.
"Thank you," Beomgyu whispers, he hopes that somehow, those two words are enough for you to know.
"Sure,"
Beomgyu smiles wider as the fresh scent of grass hits his face. It’s a smell he never thought he’d miss, now it feels like a luxury—something he never realized how much he took for granted until now.
He turns his head to look at you, he feels his heart settle. Your head slightly leaned back against the rail, eyes closed in peaceful sleep. He fights the urge to nudge the soldier sitting next to you and tell him to move so you can rest your head somewhere more comfortable. He notices a shift in your face. Your brows furrow—a small frown begins to start on your forehead. Beomgyu's smile fade. The sight of you looking troubled, unsettles him for some reason.
Then, with no warning, the vehicle comes to a sudden halt, throwing everyone forward. It awakes you, and your eyes snap open, hands reaching for your gun.
"What now?" Eun-woo asks, stepping toward the window that connects to the driver's area, his voice tight with concern. You follow his gaze and your stomach drops. A fire. A huge fire, raging up ahead. And it looks like it's right where your team was supposed to drop off.
Yeonjun holds his nose at the smell of burning, smoke.
"Didn’t you radio them, Do-hyun?"
"I did, before we started heading back, Captain," You start mentally counting the minutes—five people eating, the time it took to pack up, and the drive back. It couldn’t have been more than two hours.
Two hours, and the fire’s already this big. "What happens now?" You hear Kai ask himself.
You don't have to look for long to spot them. Infected. They’re coming toward your truck—more than you can count. A mass of tumbling bodies, moving fast.
"Captain!" you shout, your voice sharp. "They are coming. Too many of them." Your words startle everyone in the truck.
Beom-seok’s hands twitch on the steering wheel, nerves on edge as he maneuvers the truck. His mind races, unsure of the next move. Where the hell should we go?
"Head for the nearest camp," Captain Joon orders, "Do-hyun, can you get through to them?"
"I'm trying," Do-hyun responds, fingers moving over the radio—silence greets him in return. The truck moves, and all of you watch the infected, filling the road behind.
Beomgyu watches the infected, slow, stumbling figures moving toward the vehicle. He knows they wont catch up—he knows they cant outrun it—still, his stomach churns.
"Are you okay?" Soobin asks, voice soft. He saw Beomgyu’s face when he locked eyes with the dead. "Try not to look at them," he suggests. It’s what Soobin does—keep his eyes away.
Beomgyu gives a shrug. "Isn’t avoiding them just going to make it worse?" he says, eyes still glued to the decaying figures. "I mean, I would like to be able to look at them without feeling like I’m about to throw up."
Soobin sighs, "We are getting out of here. Hybe did not let these people get us just to leave us hanging. There’s gotta be a place somewhere. Maybe we’ll even be able to go home, see our families again."
Beomgyu’s throat tightens at the mention of family, he swallows the feeling down. "What if we don’t, though?" he murmurs, "You saw the fire at the camp we were supposed to be at. Do you really think we’d have made it out? If we got there earlier…. do your really think we would have survived?"
Soobin’s heart clench at the question, he can't bring himself to answer. He does not want to think about it, but he knows Beomgyu’s right. Everything had seemed okay—until that overrun camp. The silence stretches, loud with unspoken fears.
Beomgyu’s hand starts picking at his nails, his gaze unfocused. "What if there’s no safe place left?" His voice cracks,trying his hardest not to think about his family.
"Stop." It’s you. You had been close enough to hear their whispers. "I’ll let you know if there’s no place anymore. Until I do, don’t think about it."
Beomgyu looks up at you, meeting your eyes for a moment. And just like that, the heaviness inside him lifts—just a little.
The vehicle comes to a halt by the side of the road, dust kicking up as the engine sputters off. Captain Joon looks ahead, eyes narrowing at the said camp he has in mind. It’s about a ten-minute walk from here.
"Still no response, Captain," Do-hyun reports, his fingers pressing anxiously on the radio. "Should I try reaching out to other units? They're farther out, but I can give it a shot."
Captain Joon does not look at him, eyes fixed ahead. "You can do that later. For now, we need to check this site first." He pauses, "It’s not wise for all of us to go. These five civilians stay here with a couple of you, the rest of us will move out."
Beomgyu catches the glint of your fingers as you reach for your gun, checking the magazine, clicking it back and then tightening your boot laces. There's no need for more words. The message is clear. You're going out, you're checking the place. You’re not going to sit around and wait.
"Y/N," Captain Joon calls out as you start climbing down from the cargo bed.
“I’m going with you,” you say, already strapping your gun across your shoulder. Without waiting for a response, you take a few long strides,, scanning the fields around you. The tall grass sways gently in the breeze. A few of the soldiers start following suit—Eun-woo, Ji-ho, and you catch the sound of their boots as they move behind you.
Captain Joon strides past, and you follow him, your boots crunching against the dry earth.
Beomgyu watches, his eyes never leaving your form as you move further into the distance. He can hear Yeonjun’s sigh beside him, but it did not make him look away. Instead, he counts under his breath, doing everything he can to keep you in sight until you’re too far to see.
The truck was quiet, the minutes stretching on as the remaining soldiers outside paced back and forth, keeping watch.
“I’m worried about Hiyyih,” Kai said suddenly, breaking the silence. His words drew the attention of the older guys around him, all seated close by.
“Do you think she got rescued too?” Kai asked, voice quieter now. “Or maybe…she made it out to Seoul when everything went like this?”
Taehyun reached over, giving the youngest's head a soft pat. “She is okay, Kai,” he said, “Once we get to the camp, we can ask the Captain,”
“Yeah,”
“Stop stressing about it, though,” Yeonjun chimed in, “We will figure it out soon enough.” Soobin stayed quiet, gaze fixed on some distant thought.
“They’re back,” Beomgyu said, his gaze darting between the road and the distant figures coming into view. He kept watching, squinting to make out their shapes as they got closer. Minutes passed, and the faces became clear: Captain Joon, two other soldiers… and you.
“They’re fewer than we expected,” Captain Joon announced as he reached the group, his voice steady but grim. “The camp’s still standing. We’ll spend the night there and wait for further instructions.” His words weighed heavy in the air. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stay composed.
When you entered the place, the sight was sobering. Just over half a dozen soldiers were left. The others, you were told, had been sent out on missions—and none of their teams had returned. You shook the thoughts away, chalking it up to exhaustion. Fatigue was setting in, and all you wanted was a shower and some sleep. For now, this camp would have to do.
Adjusting the straps of your backpack, you glanced around and saw everyone gathering their belongings. You opened your gun case and checked the magazines, counting each one carefully. “We’ll need to do inventory soon,” you muttered, mostly to yourself.
Beomgyu caught your words and looked over, his eyes flicking from your face to the black case cradling the weapons.
Arriving at the camp on foot felt like walking into a ghost town. The only sign of life was… the small group of soldiers waiting, their tired eyes, makes the place feel even emptier. Captain Joon started barking orders, assigning tents to everyone. Your mind was fixed on one thing: rest.
“I’m going to shower and sleep. Wake me if I’m needed,” you told the captain, walking past him as he gave you a quick nod.
You headed to your tent, overhearing the arrangements for the five civilians. They’d be taking turns in the showers, then each also having a small tent of their own. Your own shelter was small, just as you’d expected. You set your things down, pulling out what you needed for the shower.
The shower area was sectioned off with a heavy curtain, its edges swaying slightly in the breeze. You pushed it aside and stepped in, letting the cool water wash over you. The sensation of the water running down your back. After finishing your routine, you reached for a towel and your robe. Once you’d changed into a clean military shirt and loose pants, you stepped outside, your hair still damp.
The camp was quiet, save for the crackle of a small fire in the center. A few soldiers sat around it—Yeonjun was eating, with Beomgyu and Taehyun seated beside him. Soobin, walking toward them, caught your gaze and gave you a respectful bow. Kai was likely in the showers, taking his turn.
Back at your tent, you dried your hair—hitting the makeshift pillow, your eyes drifted shut. It was harder to sleep that night.
Beomgyu jolted awake to the sharp crack of a gunshot. His chest tightened as he gasped, sitting up abruptly in the darkness.
BANG.
Another shot echoed through the camp, louder this time. He instinctively covered his ears, his heart pounding in his chest. The sound was close—too close. A flurry of gunfire followed, chaotic and all over the place. He froze as a shadow darted past the thin walls of his tent. His hands trembled as he forced himself to stand.
He fumbled for his pants, pulling them on as another scream tore through the night, quickly silenced by another gunshot. His mind raced. Should he go outside? Should he stay hidden?
Soobin. Yeonjun. Taehyun. Kai.
You.
The names rang in his head snapped him. He peeked through a small gap in the tent’s fabric, his breath hitching at the sight outside. Strangers—men he hadn’t seen earlier—moved through the camp. One of them hefted a sack of supplies over his shoulder, while others fired wildly at the soldiers.
Bandits?
The realization hit hard. These men were fighting the soldiers stationed at the camp, gunfire exchanged in rapid bursts. Beomgyu swallowed hard. His tent was further out than the others, which gave him a sliver of cover, but he knew he had to move. As he stepped out of his tent, a bullet zipped past him, close enough to feel the air shift against his cheek. He flinched, his heart hammering in his chest.
“What the—”
A scream drew his attention. A bandit, snarling and swinging his weapon, was overwhelmed by an infected lunging at him from the side. The sight froze Beomgyu in place, fear rooting him to the spot.
A hand clamped over his mouth, silencing the scream that threatened to escape. He turned sharply, eyes wide, only to see you staring back at him.
“We’re leaving. Or we’re dead,” you whispered, your voice urgent but low. Beomgyu hesitated, glancing toward the other tents. He wanted to go to the others, to check if they were okay, but you tightened your grip on his wrist, stopping him.
“They will see you,” you hissed. Behind you, the infected were starting to swarm the camp, drawn by the gunfire. Beomgyu felt a lump rise in his throat. Your hand dropped from his mouth, and you tugged on his wrist, shoving him back toward his tent. “Grab your things. Be fast.”
Beomgyu stumbled inside, adrenaline coursing through him as he grabbed his backpack. He hadn’t even unpacked yet, telling himself earlier he’d do it in the morning. Now, it didn’t matter. There wasn’t going to be a morning if he stayed.
When he stepped back out, you were watching the bandits, your jaw clenched. He noticed your backpack already slung over your shoulder. The white shirt you’d worn earlier was still visible beneath a hastily thrown-on jacket, paired with cargo pants and sturdy boots.
“Come on,” You started moving, weaving through the shadows with practiced steps. Beomgyu followed—heart heavy and torn as he glanced back toward the other tents.
His four brothers weren’t with him.
Beomgyu’s feet ached with every step. He had been trailing behind you for what felt like hours, though it couldn’t have been more than fifty minutes. Your strides were quick, far faster than he could have imagined for someone with shorter legs than his. He had no idea where you were leading him, and the darkness of the woods only made it worse.
Shadows stretched long between the trees, and every crackle of leaves underfoot made his heart jump. But then you turned back to look at him, your face briefly influenced by the moon's light—it was just a quick check to make sure he was still behind—and somehow that was enough to keep him moving.
Finally, you stopped in front of a towering tree. Its trunk was wide and strong, the kind that seemed to have stood for centuries. You tilted your head up to inspect it, then turned back to him. “This will do. We’ll climb up here,”
Beomgyu blinked, his gaze sweeping nervously between you and the tree. Climbing? He had never climbed a tree before—not even as a kid. But the alternative—staying on the ground, exposed to the infected, or people that might be lurking—was far worse.
“O-okay,” The two of you did not know where you were going—or how far you still had to go—but at least up here, you could catch your breath. He watched as you point toward the bark, signaling for him to go first.
“Here,” you said, tapping a sturdy-looking notch just above your reach. “Put your foot here.”
“You sure it’ll hold?”
“It will, trust me.”
Beomgyu swallowed hard and placed his foot on the notch. It felt solid, but the uneven texture of the bark made him wobble slightly. He grabbed the trunk for balance, his fingers scraping against the rough surface. “Here, grab this branch,” you guided him, pointing to a solid-looking limb.
The bark was rough, but he held on, his muscles trembling. The tree swayed just a little under his weight, the rustling leaves made him think that the whole thing might give way. But it didn’t. With a grunt, he hoisted himself, settling into a spot that felt stable enough to hold him. The height gave him an odd sense of relief—He looked down at you, his fear replaced by a grin.
“This is so cool,” The horrors of the night melted away. You smirked, shaking your head as you reached for the first branch, beginning your own ascent. Beomgyu’s gaze stayed on you, his hands hovering slightly as if wanting to help but unsure how.
When you were nearly at his level, reaching for a branch to pull yourself up, the wood suddenly gave way with a sharp crack. Making you slip. “Shit!” Beomgyu lunged toward you, his hands finding your elbow just in time. “I-I—What do I do?!”
“Can you not panic like you’re the one about to fall?” you snapped, though your voice lacked real bite.
“Right!” he stammered, his grip tightening. You grasped his other outstretched arm, and with one strong pull, he managed to haul you up. The force of it sent you toppling forward, landing squarely against him. For a second, everything went still. Beomgyu’s breath hitched as he looked up at you, your face inches from his.
You could feel the warmth of his body against your chest, see the subtle freckles and barely-there moles on his skin that you hadn’t noticed before. His gaze flickered to your lips.
In a swift motion, you pushed yourself off him—brushing the dust and bits of bark from your clothes, you avoided his eyes. “Are you okay?”
You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak just yet.
An hour had passed since the two of you settled. Your back leaned towards the tree and for a brief moment, you let your eyes close, though your mind raced.
Plans. Risks. Next steps.
“What’s the next plan?”
You opened your eyes, exhaling softly. “I’m planning to check back at the camp once the sun’s up,” you said after a moment. “From a distance. The infected were drawn to the gunfire, so I doubt they’ll stay there. But I need to see what’s left.”
Beomgyu nodded, “We should see if there’s anyone still there. Maybe stuck or hiding.”
You glanced at him and adjusted the rifle slung across your chest. The weight of the handgun in your pocket and the knives strapped to your thighs felt heavier.
“We’ll try to track them too,” you said, then added quietly, “Or you could stay here and wait for me.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“Okay.”
Silence fell between you again, interrupted only by the faint rustle of leaves. Beomgyu broke it with a sudden thought. “I can’t believe people can kill each other just like that,” he said, voice with disbelief.
The words made you pause. Your eyes, previously shut, opened fully, and you turned your head slightly toward him. But you said nothing. “Why did they do that?” Beomgyu asked, his tone softer now.
You didn’t respond. Instead, you looked away, avoiding his gaze. His eyes—they were too brown, too soft for a world like this. When the silence stretched too long, he shifted uncomfortably, his ears flushing red. “I… I wanna thank you. For bringing me with you,” he said, shyly. “Thank you, Y/N.”
“Sleep,” you said, brushing his gratitude aside. “I’ll keep watch.”
“I do think I can,” he admitted, rubbing his neck. "I swear I can still hear the gunshots in my ears.” You sighed. Sleep wasn’t an option for you either.
Beomgyu hesitated before speaking again. “Can I ask you something?”
“You already did,”
His face flushed deeper. “I mean… another question.”
When you didn’t respond, he continued, “Why are you the only woman in your team?”
Your eyes flicked to him, one brow raising slightly. “Are you implying there shouldn’t be one?”
“No! God, no,” he said quickly, his hands flailing slightly as he stumbled over his words. “I mean, it’s just—wow. It’s amazing.”
“That a woman can do a man’s job?”
“No—yes—no!” Beomgyu groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I just mean, like… it’s impressive. Especially since women aren’t even required to go through military service. But here you are, and you’re killing it—uh, not literally—well, maybe literally, but—”
You studied his flustered face for a moment before cutting him off, “I get it,” you said, watching as relief washed over him. “I think I was just… born for this. I can’t imagine myself doing anything else.”
“That’s… cool,” he murmured, nodding slowly. You hummed, leaning your head back against the tree.
“I don’t think I can imagine myself doing anything else either,” Beomgyu said, thoughtful. He stared at his hands, a small smile tugging at his lips. You watched him for a second longer than you meant to.
“That’s cool,” you echoed his words, earning a laugh from him. His smile widened, his laugh soft but real, and it lit up the darkness around you. Even his laugh—
It made you look away, your chest tightening. His smile—it was dangerous.
Beomgyu turned his gaze to you, studying your profile. The way your lashes caught the faint moonlight. Beautiful, he thought.
“How old were you when you joined the military?” he asked, randomly. Your expression froze, startled by the question.
“What?”
“I mean, if it’s okay to ask,” he said, tilting his head slightly, his tone careful. “You don’t have to—”
You swallowed hard, a lump forming in your throat. That question—it wasn’t one you wanted to answer again. Not now. Not ever.
“Close your eyes and rest,” you said flatly, “We’re done talking. The dead might hear us.”
The other one's face fell.
The sunlight was warm against Beomgyu's face, pulling him from his sleep. He blinked a few times, squinting at the brightness, trying to shake off his muzzy state.
"Hey, sleeping beauty." You say, "If you want to come, we need to go. Now."
He turned to see you already packing up, tossing a protein bar his way without looking. He barely caught it, fumbling it in his hands before managing a weak, “Thanks.”
"Let's go." You unscrewed your water bottle and took a quick drink before slinging your gear over your shoulder. Without waiting for him to respond, you started climbing down from the tree. Beomgyu followed, the descent easier than the nerve-wracking climb up last night, his legs still felt stiff from the awkward position he’d slept in. His feet hit the forest floor, and he took a deep breath. The woods in daylight were almost beautiful painting everything in shades of green.
He yawned, unwrapping his protein bar as he fell into step behind you. The two of you walked in silence, his eyes wandering over the scenery. It was hard to reconcile how peaceful the forest looked with the gnawing fear in his gut. About twenty minutes in, you suddenly stopped, your hand shooting up in a signal. Beomgyu, distracted, nearly walked into you.
“Infected,”
He followed your line of sight and spotted it—a man-shaped figure stumbling through the trees, its feet dragging awkwardly. The distance between you and it was still considerable.
Beomgyu glanced at you, his eyes wide. “How did you even see that?” he whispered. “I wouldn’t have noticed it until it was right in front of us.”
You ignored the question, “You haven't done this yet, so now’s the time to learn.”
Now, the words struck him awake. He’d known this was coming—he wasn’t naive—but he hadn’t expected it to be now. “Are you sure? Shouldn’t we find, I don’t know, somewhere more open for this?” He couldn’t help the nervous edge in his voice. Just weeks ago, his biggest challenge was memorizing their group's choreography.
“This is the perfect place to practice,” you said, not bothering to look at him.
He hesitated, shifting on his feet. “I mean, I’m not scared or anything, but—”
“Scared?” you interrupted, finally turning to him with a raised eyebrow.
“No. Let’s just get it over with.”
You nodded, pulling a knife from your belt and handing it to him. The weight of it in his hand felt foreign. He stared at the blade, the black handle smooth, well maintained. His eyes caught the faint etching of your name on it.
“Grip it like this,” you said, adjusting his grip. Your hands were firm, guiding his fingers into place. “Keep your thumb here for control. When you strike, aim for the head and use enough force so you don’t have to do it twice.”
He nodded, his throat dry. "Go in when I say.”
The infected was closer now, its groans louder, its movements jerky and unnatural. You gestured for him to move to the left, opposite of where you were going. He obeyed, his steps hesitant.
You moved quickly, drawing its attention. Beomgyu couldn’t take his eyes off you as you circled it without second thoughts or any fear.With a sharp kick, you knocked its legs out from under it. The infected collapsed to its knees, and you pressed your boot into its back, holding it in place. “Come here,”
Beomgyu swallowed hard, the knife trembling in his hand as he approached.
“Kill it,” you instructed, tilting the infected’s head to expose its temple.
His heart pounded as he raised the knife. He brought it down, but his strike lacked strength, and blade only sank halfway in. The infected howled, its hands clawing weakly at the air. “Y/N, I—what do I—”
“Again,” you cut him off, grabbing his other hand and placing it on the knife. “Use both hands if you have to. Pull it out and try again. Harder this time.”
He did as you said, the knife coming free with a sickening squelch. Blood splattered onto his hands, warm and sticky, and he nearly gagged. Clenching his teeth, he raised the blade again and drove it down with all his strength. The groaning stopped, the infected falling silent.
You let the body slump to the ground, standing up as Beomgyu stumbled away, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. He made it to the nearest tree before doubling over, the contents of his stomach spilling onto the forest floor.
Tears pricked at his eyes as he wiped his mouth. That infected—it wasn’t just a monster. It had been a person once, a living, breathing human being. Maybe they had a family waiting for them, a home filled with memories, or a life they’d worked hard to build. Maybe they’d been on a vacation or rushing to work the day the world fell apart.
Beomgyu’s breath hitched—he was the one who ended them, the one who took what little remained of their existence. He never imagined his life would come to this—how could he? Just a month ago, his world had been with roaring crowds, and music that echoed through stadiums. He’d been smiling at cameras, shooting music videos, and waving to fans who looked at him like he was untouchable, someone larger than life.
You crouched next to him, holding out a piece of cloth. He stared at your hand for a moment before taking it —your hands looked smaller than his, fragile—he wipes the blood on his trembling fingers.
How? How could you—manage to do all of this?
“You ended its suffering,” you said quietly, hesitant. “That’s how I try to think of it.”
“Does it get easier?”
“Never.”
It was just a single word, but somehow, it felt like a glimpse—Beomgyu feels closer. It felt like he knew you just a little bit better.
The two of you continued toward the overrun camp, the knife you’d lent Beomgyu still in his hands. For all the danger the weapon symbolized, it seemed to bring him a strange kind of comfort, his grip on it much more familiar.
Another walker crossed your path, Beomgyu stepped forward, more sure of himself this time. With just a little guidance from you, he managed to take it down.
Familiarity.
When you reached the backside of the camp, low growls echoed from ahead. Slowly, you leaned out to peek, careful not to make a sound. About a dozen infected, just as you expected.
And just as you'd predicted, the bandits had left too, leaving nothing behind but destruction. You moved, glancing over your shoulder to check on Beomgyu. He was scanning the area, his movements mirroring yours. That small action made your chest swell with pride.
He's learning. He's trying. And most of all, he's here—for his friends.
Together, you began checking the tents, moving smoothly and silently. Nothing. No survivors. But you found a few supplies—military rations, protein bars, ammo and some guns. Grabbing a duffel bag, you started packing up. Beomgyu helped in without hesitation.
Halfway through the camp, Beomgyu froze. His eyes locked on something ahead. That’s when you saw it too.
BEOMGYU, KAI, WE GOT OUT. WITH THE OTHERS. WE’RE HEADING TO THE JEONJU CAMP. STAY SAFE. SB, YJ, AND TH.
“They got out,” Beomgyu said, his voice breaking the silence. Relief washed over him, lifting some of the weight he’d been carrying. Kai wasn’t with them yet, but this was hope. He would find Kai too. He’d see this message too. “I knew it!”
He spun around to face you, a grin breaking across his face. He pumped his fist in the air, silently cheering as if he’d just hit the jackpot. That boyish smile, dimples and all, made him look so much younger.
And then, he saw it—a faint, fleeting curve of your lips.
His laugh bubbled out, soft and genuine, as he ran toward you, nearly tripping over his own feet in excitement. You're perfect, he thinks, the thought hitting him as naturally as breathing. You try to step back, caught off guard, but it’s too late.
It’s already too late.
“I freaking knew it,” he said, his arms around you warm, his chin resting on the top of your head. You stood frozen, your hands awkwardly at your sides, nodding stiffly.
“I told you,” he whispered. When he finally steps back, his eyes search your face, the smile he’d seen just moments ago is already gone. You look away, avoiding his gaze, and the sudden absence of it—leaves an ache in his chest.
He wants to see it again.
“Let’s wrap this up and circle outside the camp,” you say, pulling the zipper closed on the duffel bag you’d packed full. “We need to check if Kai’s lingering nearby. And we’ll need to secure a vehicle too. We’re in Daejeon—its a long way to Jeonju.”
“Thank you.” Beomgyu’s voice is quiet, and his cheeks flush red as he remembers his earlier outburst—the way he’d hugged you without thinking. Maybe it was the relief from the message, or maybe it was just seeing you smile at him for the first time.
“Why do you think they’re in Jeonju?”
“Probably got a radio response,”
He nods, falling in step behind you as you heft the duffel bag over your shoulder. Beomgyu quickens his pace, catching up to you. He tugs the bag from your hands. “Let me take this,”
The two of you stepped out of the tent, the silence heavy between you. You were nearing the camp’s edge when Beomgyu noticed you slowing down, your steps faltering.
Seo-jun.
His movements were slow, his hands trembling as he stumbled forward. He's looking at you. Seo-jun’s blood-soaked uniform and gaping bite on his neck entered your vision. Gunshot wounds riddled his chest—a soldier’s final stand. He had fought. Hard. For his team. For everyone.
"Y/N?" Beomgyu’s voice broke through the haze, soft but urgent. He noticed that you had stopped, your gaze fixed on the infected figure ahead. He squinted, and his heart sank when he realized it was someone from your team.
Seven years. You had known Seo-jun for seven years. You had planned to make things right with him, to talk, to reconcile. But how could you now? How could you fix things when he was already lost? You tried to blink away the moisture from your eyes.
“Am I ever getting a break?” you muttered to yourself, the words bitter. "Even here, you find a way to mock me, Seo-jun."
Beomgyu could hear the shakiness in your voice, the rawness in the way you spoke. He listens.
You couldn’t leave him like this. Alone in his lifeless form, wandering endlessly. He deserved more than that. “Come on, you shit,” you muttered, your throat tightening as you stepped forward, reaching for your knife. But you froze.
Around his neck, alongside his dog tags, hung another set. Min Ju-won’s. Even at the end, Seo-jun had carried that burden, blaming himself for something you both knew wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t let it go, not even in death.
Beomgyu moved before he could think. He didn't know if it was the look in your eyes or the way your hand trembled, but he knew one thing: he couldn’t let you do this. While Seo-jun was distracted by your figure, Beomgyu raised his weapon. Just as you had taught him hours ago, he aimed for the head.
Seo-jun’s body crumpled to the ground. Beomgyu guided him down gently, almost reverently. From his backpack, Beomgyu pulled an extra jacket. Without a word, he draped it over Seo-jun’s face. It wasn’t much, but it was the only dignity he could offer.
When he stood, his eyes met yours, raw and glistening with emotion.
“Why—” Your voice cracked, unable to finish the question.
“He was your friend,” he said quietly. “I'm not going to let you do that. Not while I’m here.”
Friend.
That single word shattered whatever fragile wall you’d been holding up. A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it, and you quickly wiped it away with your hand.
“He’s not suffering anymore,” Beomgyu added softly, his hand gently brushing the top of your head—you avoided his eyes, yet again. “He’s not suffering,”
He bent down to grab the duffel bag he’d dropped earlier, slinging it over one shoulder. Then, he reached out, his hand wrapping around your wrist.
“Let's get out of here.” He pulled you forward.
Beomgyu's hand didn’t leave yours until the two of you were far beyond the camp.
"Hey," you called out to Beomgyu, who was busy checking a nearby car. "This looks fresh—like it hasn’t been here long." He made his way over, and you held out—a baseball, cap.
"Wait," Beomgyu said, eyes widening as he took it. Turning it over in his hands, he inspected it closely. "This… this is Kai’s,"
When you looked at him, a small smile was already spreading across his face, lighting up his features like it always did.
Beomgyu… he was so easily moved by the smallest things. It didn’t take much to make him smile. Or maybe it wasn’t that simple. Maybe it was because he loved his brothers, that even the smallest sign of them was enough to give him something to hold onto.
You dropped your gaze when his eyes met yours and moved toward the next car, pretending. But your thoughts refused to stay put. Here you were again, thinking about him—about his silly antics.
In the past twelve hours, it felt like he’d done nothing but occupy your mind. Every small moment with him clung to you. The way his voice softened when he spoke—The way he’d quietly ask, “You okay?” as if you were the one who needed saving.
After Seo-jun—he hadn’t said a word about it. No awkward condolences, no probing questions. Just silence—the kind you needed. Like he just… knew. No one had ever been like this—this careful, this kind. No one had ever looked at you the way he did, with eyes that were too brown and too full of something you didn’t want to name.
You didn’t like it.
You didn’t like it at all.
“I think Kai’s already ahead of us,” you bit into the bland military ration that was handed to you. “Heading towards Jeonju, if those tracks are anything to go by. He’s smart.”
“He is,” Beomgyu agreed, a small smile at his lips as he stirred the contents of his disposable pack. “He’s the calmest one too.”
“Then I guess we will see him there,” you said with a shrug. “Now all we need to do is find a working car.”
“A manual,”
“Hm.”
“That has gas in it.”
“Figures,” you muttered. “But that’ll be the easier part.”
Silence settled over the two of you again, it had become strangely common. You both ate, focused on the food. Every so often, you’d catch Beomgyu glancing your way, and flashes you his small, boyish grin on his face.
You tossed the empty pack toward a nearby car and wiped your hands on your pants. “It’s getting dark soon,” you said. “We should camp nearby and head out at first light.” Moving at night was usually the smarter option, especially with a vehicle and a full team. But here, now? Just the two of you, on foot, with no guarantee of shelter or backup—it wasn’t worth the risk.
Sticking to the woods was safer. The fewer infected—or people—you encountered, the better. You only ventured onto the road when there was a car worth checking.
In the fading light, a barn came into view. Its doors were wide open, silhouetted against the trees. You signaled Beomgyu to wait outside while you moved to secure the area. Inside, it was clear the owner had left in a hurry, taking most of what mattered. It was empty, save for a few odds and ends no one had cared to take—its enough for a temporary shelter.
“Looks good enough,” you murmured as you stepped back outside. Beomgyu nodded, already starting to unload your supplies. The discovery of a small lake nearby was an unexpected bonus.
“I’m going to wash up,” you said, gathering what you needed and slinging your gun over your shoulder. Beomgyu gave a slight nod, his eyes lingering on you as you walked away.
The water was cold, scouring away the dirt and sweat. You were quick, not wanting to leave Beomgyu alone for long. When you returned, your damp hair clung to your neck, and your skin was clean and slightly chilled.
“Your turn,” He glanced up, eyes flitting over your freshly washed face. His heart thudded hard in his chest. Cute, he thought, forcing himself to look away. Beomgyu nodded, grabbing his things and heading out to the lake. He came back just as fast, hair dripping but visibly refreshed.
You sat side by side on the makeshift bedding, neither of you saying much. Beomgyu’s soft breathing enters your ears—hand rested close enough that you could almost feel its warmth against your skin.
You found your eyes beginning to close with peace you hadn’t realized you were still capable of feeling.
Beomgyu woke up, immediately turning to his left. There you were, curled up on your side, the rise and fall of your chest visible in the dim space. He stared, mesmerized—it was the first time he’d ever seen you asleep. You looked… soft. A side of you he never thought he’d witness.
He shifted. The urge to pee was becoming unbearable. Careful not to wake you, Beomgyu slipped off and crept toward the barn door. The cold air hit him as he stepped outside, wrapping his arms tightly around himself for warmth. He scanned the area just like you’d taught him—ears tuned to every sound. Nothing.
He let out a breath of relief and headed to a nearby tree. Unzipping his pants, he took care of business quickly, the chill urging him to hurry. After he finished and zipped back up, a faint rustling behind him made him stop. Before he could turn, a large, rough hand clamped over his mouth, oppressing his scream. Another arm locked around his neck, pulling him back against a solid chest.
“Shut up if you value your life,” a low, gravelly voice growled against his ear. The man holding him inhaled deeply near his hair, a disgusting, exaggerated sniff. “Freshly washed. You’ve got a place nearby, don’t you?”
Beomgyu’s eyes darted ahead, and his stomach dropped when three more men stepped into view. Each held a weapon—a bat, a knife, and worst, a pistol. The man restraining him gives a rough shake, his breath hot and foul. “Don’t make me ask again. Where’s your camp?”
Beomgyu shook his head violently, panic blooming in his chest. He couldn't—he wouldn't—lead them back to you. The thought of them finding you, sleeping and unaware—this was his fault. He should have been more careful.
The man growled in frustration. “Y' think this is a joke?” he spat, hardening his chokehold. Beomgyu’s throat made a strangled sound as he gasped for air. The man with the knife stepped forward, expression predatory. “Maybe this will help him remember,” he said, pressing the blade against Beomgyu’s cheek. The sharp metal bit into his skin, not enough to draw blood, but enough to make him wince.
“There’s a barn ahead,” the one with the baseball bat said,“Think that’s it?” Beomgyu’s reaction betrayed him—his wide eyes and the flash of fear gave them all the confirmation they needed.
“Yeah,” the man holding him laughed darkly, “that’s it.”
Before Beomgyu could resist, they forced his hands behind his back and bound them tightly, shoving a cloth into his mouth to stifle any protest. He struggled, but it was no use—they yanked him forward, dragging him roughly toward the barn. And he knew exactly where they were taking him. To you.
“Fucking hell,” the man holding Beomgyu growled, his gaze shifting to your sleeping figure inside the barn. A dark grin tugged at his lips. “Is this what you’re so scared of? Afraid we’ll take her away from you?”
Beomgyu thrashed, desperate to scream, to warn you, but the cloth bound tight in his mouth smothered any sound. The group moved closer, one of them stepping forward to push the barn door open. The large, old door creaked. It wasn’t loud, but it was enough to wake you.
Your eyes snapped open, adjusting to the figures looming at the entrance, shadows that didn’t belong. Your hand reached for the gun nearby. The glint of their weapons caught your eye as they aimed at you in return.
“Sweetheart,” the tallest man drawled, stepping forward. His tone was mocking, dangerous. He shoved someone in front of him—Beomgyu. Your breath hitched as your eyes locked onto his. His face was pale, streaked with dirt and tears, and a raw red mark marred his cheek. His wide, terrified eyes pleaded with you.
Red.
“What the fuck do you want, asshole?” You cocked your gun, the sharp metallic click echoing. One of them flinched. Good.
The leader sneered, shoving Beomgyu roughly to the side. He tied him to a post like he was nothing more than an animal. Your jaw tightened as you watched the way they manhandled him, your fists clenching around the gun. When he was done, the leader turned back to you, whistling low at the deadly glare you levelled at him. His cocky smirk only deepened.
“You look loaded,” he said, his eyes flicking to the bags by the wall. “And since you asked so nicely, we’d also like to take turns with you, sweetheart.”
Beomgyu shook his head violently from where he was tied, his muffled cries useless against their laughter. His chest heaved, panic consuming him as the men began to advance on you.
“We’re lucky you’re here,” the leader continued, leering. “If we didn’t have a choice, we’d take the boy instead. He’s got such a pretty face, after all.”
Red.
All you saw was red.
Your vision blurred as rage consumed you. You let one of them grab your gun without resistance. It didn’t matter.
You'll kill them all.
The leader was close now, grabbing a fistful of your hair to tilt your head back. His face was inches from yours, his smirk as disgusting as the words spilling from his mouth. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? No fight left in you?”
You smirked—just a little. It was enough to confuse him, before he could react, your teeth sank into his throat. Hard.
It was a spot right where you knew it would hurt most. A pressure point. His scream ripped through while he stumbled back, clutching at the gaping wound with blood pouring through his fingers. The bitter, metallic taste flooded your mouth, but you didn't stop. You grabbed the gun he dropped as he fell and turned, firing without hesitation.
BANG.
The man who had taken your gun didn’t even have time to aim before he hit the ground.
“Fuck—” one of them snarled, charging at you. Before he could get too close, your foot sweeped his legs out from under him. He hit the ground with a grunt.
BANG.
You aim your gun and pulled the trigger on his face. The man with the bat.
Pain exploded in your shoulder, a gunshot tearing through your flesh, but you didn’t flinch. His mistake wasn’t pulling the trigger; it was not aiming for your head like you aimed for his.
BANG.
The leader gurgled, blood bubbling up from his lips as he stared at you in disbelief. “Monster—” he chokes on the floor, his hands futilely gripping his shredded throat. His blood pooled beneath him as he sputtered his last, trying and failing to form a single word. “You—”
BANG.
You stared at the four lifeless bodies beneath you, the gun in your hand began to feel impossibly heavy. Blood clung to your shirt like a second skin, still warm, sticky. Your mouth tasted metallic, your hair a disheveled mess from the earlier struggle.
Behind you, Beomgyu sat slumped against the post, trembling. He’d watched everything—every deafening shot, every life you’d taken to protect. His body flinched with each pull of the trigger. Now, his tears streamed freely, but not out of fear. No, this wasn’t fear.
He was crying because you had to do this.
Sobbing around the cloth still gagging him, his muffled cries echoing in the now-silent barn. You moved, steps distant, as if someone else controlled them. You crouched down and began untying the ropes binding Beomgyu to the post. His breath hitched as your fingers worked the knots, your hands stained with blood that was not yours. The ropes fell loose. Beomgyu searched your face, desperate for some sign of emotion—but your eyes were blank, lost.
Before he could speak, you stood, bolting toward the barn door. Beomgyu panicked. He hiccuped, scrambling to his feet, his legs weak from being tied up for so long. “Y/N!” he tried to call, but his voice cracked. His head spinning.
You were gone. Were you leaving him? He looked around frantically, his feet faltering as the barn opened into the cool night. He couldn’t lose you. Not now.
Beomgyu finds you at the small lake nearby, kneeling in the water. The cold ripples lapped at your clothes, soaking them, but you didnt seem to notice. Your hands scrubbed furiously at your arms, over and over, like you were trying to erase your own skin. “Y/N,”
“Y-You were shot,” he said, voice cracking. His eyes darted to your shoulder, blood had begun to seep through your shirt.
You gasped for air, your chest squeezing with every shallow breath. No matter how hard you tried, it felt like the air couldn't reach your lungs. Your hands clutched your face as if you could physically hold yourself together—thoughts raced through your mind, loud and suffocating. The world around you blurred and warped, slipping further and further from your grasp.
You killed them.
“Y/N—” Beomgyu’s voice broke through. “Breathe—”
You barely registered him.
“Can you—”
“Look at me!” he shouted, louder this time. Hands cupping your face, trembling as much as yours. “Baby, look at me.” Your eyes darted up, locking onto his. Your tears spilled down your face.
“That’s it,” he said, his voice softening, “Just keep looking at me, brave girl.” You leaned into him, your weight heavy against his chest. His soft voice leads you.
“Okay,” he said, his forehead brushing yours gently. “I need you to help me out. Can you do that?” You nodded weakly in his arms.
“Good. Start with five things you can see. Anything, okay? Just tell me five things.” Your gaze darted, focusing on anything you could name. “The tree,” you whispered shakily. “The grass. The water. Your tears. And…you.”
“That’s it,” he said, “Now, four things you can touch. What are they?”
“Your hands,” you murmured, your fingers twitching against his. “The water. My hair. And…stones.”
“Perfect,” he said, his thumbs now against your cheeks. “What about three things you can hear?” You breathed deeply this time, the cloud in your head beginning to lift. “The wind. The water. And you.” His lips curved into the smallest, most fragile smile. “Two things you can smell?”
You hesitated. “The blood,” you admitted, voice cracking. “And…the trees.”
“One thing you can taste.”
You swallowed hard, finally meeting his eyes fully. “Metal,” you whispered, voice barely audible.
"You did it." Beomgyu’s voice trembled, his hands cradling your face with a gentleness that only made the tears come faster. He does his best to brush them away. "Thank fuck."
“Beomgyu,” his name on your lips slips out barely more than a whisper. Forehead pressed against his shoulder, your arms wrapping around him slowly, shakily, until they found their place on his back.
There's a soft press of lips against your temple, warm and fleeting.
He helped you wash the blood off your body, his hands careful, never lingering longer than necessary. His gaze flicked to yours every few seconds, searching for some sign of permission—or maybe for you to tell him to stop. But you didn't. You can't, not when his eyes held that pleading look, soft and desperate, as if this was the only way he could help you carry the weight of what had happened.
When it came time to clean your face, you stopped him with a slight shake of your head. He didn’t argue.
Later, he examined the gunshot wound on your shoulder, gently turning you to check for an exit wound. Relief flickered across his face when he found one. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, had this more than I can keep track of.” you replied. His head snapped up, disbelief written all over his features.
The two of you walked back to the barn in silence, clothes damp from the lake. Your hands swung loosely at your sides, brushing his once, then twice, until Beomgyu hesitantly reached out and took your hand in his. You didn’t pull away.
“You can wait here,” he said softly when the barn came into view. “I’ll grab our things. We need to leave—someone might’ve heard.” You nodded, understanding without him saying it: he didn’t want you to see the bodies again.
Within minutes, he returned with your bags. You rummaged through yours, finding fresh pants and underwear but no shirt. “Do you have a shirt?”
“I do,” He's already handing it to you.
“Thanks.”
Slipping it over your head, you caught the faint scent of him—musky, with a subtle sweetness. It suited him.
The two of you moved to a nearby tree, settling under its shadow. The world was still dark, the night stretching on endlessly. You sat beside him, his shoulders side by side with yours.“Can you say it again?”
“What?”
“My name,” he said, clearing his throat awkwardly. You noticed the tips of his ears reddening. “Like you did earlier.”
“No,”
He chuckled, his gaze falling to where your hands rested in your lap. “As I expected.” When you did not respond, he ventured another question. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“What about it?”
“Was that your first t—”
“It wasn’t,” you cut him off, your eyes fixed ahead. You didn’t know why, but the words kept coming. “I’ve killed before. Being a soldier in the war… it wasn’t a choice. Sometimes I even had to kill my own teammates.” You paused,“But this… it’s different. They were civilians.”
“You had to kill your teammates too?”
You turned to him, studying the calm expression on his face. His eyes—the same ones that had anchored you earlier—held no trace of distrust, even after your confession. “Why aren’t you freaked out by this?”
“Because I want to know you,” he said with a small shrug. “Believe it or not, I’ve always been a good judge of character—or at least, that’s what my mom used to say. Soobin, too.” He paused, his lashes casting faint shadows on his cheeks. “Ever since I met you, there hasn’t been a single thing you’ve done that I couldn’t understand.” The answer caught you off guard, made something in you falter.
"I had to kill them because they asked me to,"
“Then you're the strongest person I’ve ever met.” You didn’t know how to respond—you dont trust your voice not to break. How could he look at you like that after everything he’d seen? After all you’d done?
Minutes passed, when you felt him shift beside you, his arm lifting as he gently guided your head to rest on his shoulder. The warmth of him made it easier to close your eyes.
"You can rest now,"
“This one doesn’t work either,” Beomgyu called out from up ahead. You were still busy checking the car you’d been inspecting—never mind. It didn’t work, either.
“Should we just go on foot?” he asked, exasperation into his voice. It had been over a day of wandering and hoping to find a working vehicle. There’d been a few infected here and there, but sticking to the backroads had kept you from running into anything worse than a small group.
“It’s dangerous,” you replied without looking up.
Silence.
Beomgyu never let a comment slide without a retort, you know that by now. Heart thumping, you stepped out of the car and scanned the area, instincts on high alert.
“BAH!” He jumped out in front of you, doubling over with laughter so intense it sounded like he might choke. “You should’ve seen your face!” he managed between gasps. “It was so cute.”
“Are you done?”
Clearing his throat, Beomgyu grinned. It was just another one of his attempts to get on your nerves. He pulled something from his pocket—a dusty Polaroid camera he had found in one of the trucks. He flipped it open and checked the film. Two shots left. Without missing a beat, he raised it to his face and clicked the button.
You blinked, unimpressed. “Are you even checking the cars, or are you just running around pretending to be Dora the Explorer?”
Beomgyu smirked as the film began developing. “You watch Dora?”
“No.”
“You just mentioned her.”
“She’s famous.”
“So am I,” he shot back. “But you didn’t know me before this.”
“Are you seriously going to bring that up again?”
“Heh.” Beomgyu’s grin only widened. He could almost see it—the tiniest twitch at the corner of your lips before you turned away. Almost. It made his heart flutter in that stupid, uncontrollable way he hated admitting to himself.
As the photo developed, he glanced down at it. The image of you slowly came into view—you, standing in the middle of the road, hair pulled into a loose ponytail, staring at something out of frame with a faintly confused look on your face. “Beautiful,” he exhales.
If you looked this good now, how stunning would you be on a normal day?
If this were a normal day, Beomgyu would be all over you.He’d give you flowers every single day, just to make you smile. He’d buy you anything you wanted—or even things you didn’t know you needed. Love is effort. It's what his parents taught him. — And he’d give it, all of it. He’d take photos of you, even beg if he had to, make playlists for you, play games with you, anything.
He wondered if you’d be any good at FPS games. You were already a menace with a gun in real life, so you’d probably be terrifying in a match.
Maybe, if the world ever allowed it, he’d convince you to visit Daegu, his hometown with him. His parents would love you. His brother, too, though Beomgyu would definitely have to bribe him to keep his mouth shut about the massive crush he’d been harboring on you. Would you like… Toto?
Beomgyu stared at the camera in his hands. Who knows if he’ll ever get another moment like this—another chance—in a world as unpredictable as this one? The idea settles in his mind, and he doesn’t let himself hesitate. “Let’s take a picture together.”
You stopped in your tracks, turning to give him that deadpan, unamused stare—the one that always made Beomgyu bite back a grin. Another idea sparked his mind, “Okay, listen. After this, I promise not to mess around anymore,” He jutted his lower lip out just slightly, eyes pleading like a puppy who’d been caught chewing on a shoe.
“You promise.”
“Cross my heart,” he said quickly, nodding like his life depended on it. When you didn’t immediately reply, he skipped towards you. He knew this silence, too—your subtle little “yes” that didn’t require any words. He’d been observing you to pick up on your signals, even the smallest ones.
Without giving you time to change your mind, Beomgyu lifted the camera, stepped close, and pressed his cheek against yours. The faint warmth of your skin against his made his stomach flip, but he ignored it, snapping the picture before you could pull away.
You jerked back, shaking your head.
As the photo developed, Beomgyu stared at it, the edges curling faintly as the image sharpened. There it was—your face, with that same unamused look, your lips slightly pressed together like a daughter forced into posing for an overly enthusiastic mom. Beside you was him, the complete opposite—grinning like an idiot, dimples on full display, both your faces so close, touching.
Something about the contrast, about the way your expressions came together on that tiny square, made his heart do that stupid fluttering thing again. He tucked the photo into his pocket, alongside the other one.
He kept his promise and moved to the next car with you.
After three more hours of searching, you finally found a working car. Beomgyu let out an excited cheer, breaking into his little happy dance again. You tried not to smile, tried not to let his enthusiasm rub off on you—but, honestly, it was getting harder and harder to resist.
"Catch," you called, tossing the last bag to him. He caught it easily, stashing it in the backseat. Sliding into the driver’s seat, you glanced over as he settled into the passenger side. He looked so at ease there, sprawling out and fiddling with something on the dash. A passenger princess. Or was it prince? Either way, you could get used to him being there, looking peaceful for once.
You started the engine and pulled out onto the road, the car’s windows down to let in the cool breeze. As you drove, Beomgyu’s gaze drifted to your hair, your loose ponytail starting to come undone from the wind.
“Let me fix this for you,” he said, leaning over.
You felt his hands gently brush against your hair as he worked, careful not to distract you too much while you focused on the road. In the rearview mirror, you caught sight of his face—his brow furrowed in concentration, lips slightly parted. His fingers brushed against your neck as he gathered your hair, the touch light and deliberate. You could feel the care in the way he worked, securing the ponytail more tightly this time. "There."
When he finished, he leaned back, his hands falling to his lap as he took a moment to admire his work—admiring you. His gaze lingered, drinking in the curve of your face, the way your hands gripped the steering wheel just tight enough. He never felt safer than he did here, by your side. Somehow, in the middle of all this, he’d found his safe place.
His safe place.
“Try to get some sleep while I drive,” Beomgyu's unable to look away—you were right there in front of him, so effortlessly beautiful it made his heart ache. The soft curve of your cheeks, the faint flush that he couldn’t stop staring at—he wanted to reach out, to brush his lips against them, to trace the tip of your nose with his own.
In the short time he’d been alone with you—just forty-eight hours—it felt like he’d known you a lifetime. Like you’d been waiting there all along, someone he was meant to find. He wants to know more.
“Yeah, sleep. Sure.” He replies, words catching in his throat.
You’ve been driving for a while now. Beside you, Beomgyu was fast asleep, his soft snores fill your ears. A faint smile tugged at your lips as you glanced over, his head resting against the window, one hand tucked beneath it like a pillow.
The camp was close, maybe 15 minutes away. Just 15 more minutes before you’d be separated from him. The thought twisted something deep in your chest. Selfish. You knew it was selfish to feel this way. You barely knew him, and yet…
You glanced at him again, his face soft and unguarded in sleep. Everything else seemed to fade—the road ahead, the weight of your responsibilities, even the constant buzz of survival.
Survival.
Being with him didn’t feel like you were just trying to survive.
Him—who had no choice but to end up with you. You were about to leave that camp. You're already far. But when you saw him at that overrun camp, darting between tents with nothing but desperation and bad luck to shield him from the bandits, something inside you shifted. You just moved. Your feet carried you forward before your mind could catch up, before the voice of reason could stop you.
You didn’t know then that the next two days with him would chip away at the walls you’d built.
It was the little things, mostly. The way he insisted you eat first, even when food was scarce. The way he handed you the best parts of the military rations. How he seemed to know when the weight of the barn still lingered in your mind, distracting you with his terrible jokes or a question just long enough to pull you out of it. Or how he’d ask if you’d slept okay, like it mattered in a world where nothing really did.
And that smile he gives you—so easy, so genuine, even when there was no reason for it. Like he just couldn’t help himself. But now, it was ending. It had to end. You have to end it.
You tightened your grip on the wheel, staring hard at the road ahead. This was the right thing to do, the smart thing. You’d get him to safety, to people who could take care of him better than you ever could.
He didn’t belong out here with you, and you didn’t belong anywhere.
Survival.
There's nothing more that terrified you.
You spot the camp—Jeonju. It’s much bigger, with sturdy railings circling the perimeter to keep the infected out. The car rolls closer, the guards stationed on top of the walls notice you. A blinding floodlight clicks on. You know what that means: get out and identify yourselves.
“Beomgyu,” you say, shaking him awake. “We’re here. Wake up, dumbass.”
“Huh? Oh,” he mutters, the light strike his face. “Got it.”
“We’ll leave our stuff in the car for now. We just need to head up there and check in.” He nods, following your lead as you climb out. You raise both hands in the air, palms open. Beomgyu mimics you.
“State your business!” one of the guards calls down from the wall.
Before you can answer, you notice movement out of the corner of your eye. An infected, shambling closer—too close to Beomgyu. You’re already moving, boots hitting the dirt as you drive your foot into its chest and plunge your knife into its skull.
You step back into position, brushing some blood off your sleeve. “Park Y/N!” you shout up at the guard. “I report directly to Captain Joon. I’ve got Choi Beomgyu with me—a rescued civilian.”
You waited for ten minutes, at most.
The gates creak open, the panels sliding apart to reveal three soldiers stepping out, their rifles at the ready. One of them freezes, his eyes going wide. “That’s really Y/N from the Black Berets. Idiot.”
You ignore his outburst, your gaze cool as it shifts to his badge. “Can we go in now, Ji-min?”
The soldiers straighten instantly, snapping salutes in your direction. Two of them move toward the car, offering to grab your supplies. You give them a curt nod before turning to Beomgyu, only to find him already looking at you—his eyes, questioning.
“Is my team here?” you ask the soldier who stayed behind.
“Yes,” You glance back at Beomgyu. His stare now answered. Without another word, you both start to walk toward the gate.
Beomgyu’s eyes widened, his breath unstable after he spotted the four figures waiting inside. They were here. They were really here.
Before he could fully process it, Soobin’s tall frame sprinted toward him, Yeonjun and Taehyun close behind. He barely noticed you stepping aside to give them space, his entire focus locked on his brothers. The first embrace hit him like a floodgate bursting. Strong arms pulled him in, and the dam he’d tried so hard to hold together crumbled. He buried his face into the familiar comfort of Soobin’s shoulder, trying desperately not to sob. He had missed them. They had never left his mind—not once.
“Choi Beomgyu,” Soobin said, pulling back just enough to look at him. “Are you okay?”
Yeonjun’s hand came up to gently ruffle his hair, a comforting gesture that made the lump in Beomgyu’s throat harder to swallow. “You’re not hurt, right?”
Beomgyu shook his head, sniffling as he wiped at his face.
“You took your time,” Taehyun teased with a small smile. “Sorry we couldn't wait for you back there. It's impossible to get to you, but we really tried.”
“It does not matter,” Beomgyu replied quickly, “Wait—where’s Kai?”
“He’s not here yet,” Soobin admitted, voice pained. “But one of the soldiers saw him escaping with someone else—a soldier. They said he made it out.”
“That ambush was insane,” Beomgyu nodded, even his heart ached. He had to hold onto hope. Kai was strong—he’d make it. Maybe tomorrow, or the day after, Kai would walk through those gates too.
A sudden panic shot through him, his head snapping to the side. “What’s wrong?”
Beomgyu eyes scanned the cluster of soldiers nearby. Where are you? He finally spotted you, standing with Captain Joon. The older man looked serious, but there was a warmth in his demeanor as he clapped a hand on your shoulder. You said something to him, your expression calm. Captain Joon’s face softened, and for a moment, it looked like he wanted to pull you into an embrace.
“She’s been with you this whole time?” Yeonjun asked, surprised.
“Since the start,”
Soobin doesn’t wait. He steps forward, taking Beomgyu by the arm as Yeonjun and Taehyun fall in beside them. Together, the four approach you. You don't have time to register what’s happening before Soobin wraps his arms around you in a unexpected hug.
“Thank you,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for bringing him back to us.”
You glance over Soobin’s shoulder, catching Beomgyu’s gaze. He’s watching you, his eyes soft and full of something unspoken—a warmth that makes your chest tighten. You manage a small smile in return, the corners of your lips curving just enough to acknowledge him. He gives back a grin, that makes his dimple appear.
Gently patting Soobin on the back, you step away. “How are you holding up?” you ask,“I heard Kai’s not here yet. But with Ji-ho looking out for him, I know he’ll make it. He’s capable.”
Your words seem to ease the tension in the group. Soobin nods, his shoulders relaxing slightly. Yeonjun offers a faint smile, and even Taehyun pats your shoulder.
“We’re managing,” Soobin says. “Just waiting to hear what Hybe’s next steps are.”
Captain Joon appeared beside you, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “You’ve done enough for today,” he says. “Go wash up. Dinner will be ready soon.”
Beomgyu trails behind the other three, footsteps slower, reluctant. He looks back over his shoulder, at the direction you went—away from him, toward your own assigned space. This camp is massive, lined with rows of tents in all shapes and sizes, yet somehow, even with so many people around, Beomgyu feels unmoored without you nearby.
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. You’ll need to change the bandage on your shoulder soon. He knows that, just like he knows you probably won’t bother unless someone reminds you. It’s always him who keeps track, who insists on helping you replace the worn-out wraps.
“Here’s your room,” Taehyun points to the tent ahead. Beomgyu steps inside, placing his things near the bed. It’s small but better—an actual mattress and even a tiny bathroom. He crouches by his bag, pulling out a fresh set of clothes for after his shower.
He tugs off his shirt, fingers brushed against the knife strapped to his belt. Slowly, he unhooks it, focuses on the small engraving on the handle—your name, etched deep into the worn metal. Would you want it back? Probably. The thought makes his pout, because he doesn’t want to let it go. Not yet.
He crosses the room and sets the knife carefully on the small table, almost tenderly, like it's an object meant for something more delicate than killing.
He showers with his heart feeling impossibly heavy.
Your hair was still damp from the shower, clinging to your neck as you ran a towel through it. Tugging a fresh pair of cargo pants up your hips, you reached for your shirt.
“You should always keep it wrapped as long as it’s not healed yet.” His voice echoed in your mind, unbidden.
“Fucking Choi Beomgyu,” you muttered, shaking your head as you grabbed the roll of bandages from the small supply pile nearby. “Always so annoying.”
Your fingers worked quickly, wrapping the fresh bandage around your shoulder. The wound looked much better now. Once you were satisfied it was comfortable, you pulled your shirt over your head and stepped out of your tent.
Your stomach growled in response with the smeel of cooking. A warm meal—finally. “Y/N!”
You turned at the sound of Yeonjun’s voice. He waved you over, seated with their small group near one of the campfires. Several other campfires are on the open space with large pots of food simmered over flames. “Sit down here,” Yeonjun offered, patting the spot on the log beside him.
You took the seat, extending your hands toward the warmth of the fire. Across, your eyes met Beomgyu’s. He was seated opposite you, quiet for once, his gaze flickering away as soon as it met yours.
Yeonjun handed you a steaming bowl of soup, carefully scooped from the pot. “Fill up. It’s good,” he said with a grin.
“Thanks,” you murmured, taking the bowl into your hands. You reached for a spoon, Soobin beat you to it, holding one out.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “Let me know if you need seconds.”
You cleared your throat, a little thrown off by the casual care they offered. It wasn’t something you were used to.
The conversation around the fire swirled, voices rising and falling as they swapped stories. You ate in silence, letting the warmth of the meal soothe you. It had been so long since you’d had something like this. But one person wasn’t talking much. Beomgyu.
You coughed—ate a little too fast, the food catching in your throat. It has only been a second when a water bottle was offered.
“Drink up,” Beomgyu said, already twisting the cap off for you. He reached for your bowl, holding it steady so you could take the bottle from his hand. You took a sip, the cool water easing the discomfort. “Thanks,” you muttered.
“That’s right, Beomgyu,” Taehyun teased, smirking. “Take care of her. I’m sure she had to drag your sorry ass out there.”
“She did not!” Beomgyu blurted, his ears turning red.
“Oh, I bet she carried you on her back,” Yeonjun chimed in, clearly enjoying himself. “What? No way!”
“You probably teased her the whole time,” Taehyun added, grinning.
“I didn’t—”
“What a baby,” Soobin finished with a dramatic shake of his head.
Their teasing bounced around the fire, growing louder. Mixed with exaggerated groans as playful shoves sent shoulders bumping on the log seats. Beomgyu, red-faced and clearly at his limit, stomped his foot on the ground in mock frustration.
You couldn’t help it; a laugh escaped you, small at first but growing. You quickly covered your mouth with the back of your hand, your shoulders shaking as you tried to stifle it.
Beomgyu's wide eyes locked on you. You laughed. You finally fucking laughed. He feels his heart about to burst at the sweet sound.
“Oh-ho, look at her!” Soobin exclaimed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “The stress must’ve caught up with her. This is your fault, Choi Beomgyu!”
"Choi Soobin, you shi—," Beomgyu sputtered in protest, and more laughter joined with you.
It had been a week since that night by the fire. A week since Beomgyu arrived at the camp with you—and a week since he last saw you laugh like that. He could still picture it—your face by the warm glow of the fire, the soft orange light making you look almost ethereal. Did you know how exquisite you look when your eyes crinkle with joy? “Did you cut the vegetables, Beomgyu?” Yeonjun asked him as he pointed at the makeshift kitchen in the camp. “Yeah, I did,” he replied, tossing the emptied cans into the trash. He’d offered to handle it, trying to distract himself. Hybe still hadn’t contacted the military about their group, so they’d started helping around. The soldiers were reluctant at first, but Soobin had talked them into it. Now, they pitched in with small domestic tasks—delivering freshly laundered clothes from the women who washed them, cutting vegetables for the large communal meals, anything to stay useful. Beomgyu learned there were about forty-five people at the camp: nine civilians like them, eleven workers, and twenty-five soldiers. It had been a week since you’d spoken to him. A week since you’d even looked at him. Beomgyu tried. He really did. He’d tried to reach out. He started waking up early—a feat for him, someone who once detested mornings—he’d wait by the path, knowing it was your routine to jog at first light. But the moment he saw you, stretching with Do-hyun under the rising sun, his courage crumbled. Feet rooted to the spot, unable to move closer. He tried during meals too, sweeping his eyes on the tables, hoping to sit with you—but every time their group arrived, you were already standing, tray in hand, heading somewhere he could not follow. He even lingered around the grounds, pretending to have something to do. Sometimes, he felt a pair of eyes on him—heart leaping at the possibility it was you—but when he looked up, the space was empty. Eventually, he’d retreat to his tent, his shoulders heavy with defeat. It felt like you were avoiding him. Ignoring him. Do you hate him? Did he do something wrong? He lay awake most nights, staring at the canvas ceiling of his tent, replaying your moments together over and over. He could still feel the warmth of your hands. The memory of you in his arms—how perfectly you fit in it. Were you okay? Was your shoulder healing as it should? Were you eating enough? Sleeping well? Had he already become invisible to you? What is he to you anyway? A friend? Do you even consider him as one?
“You’ve been out of it these past days, Beomgyu.” Yeonjun’s voice broke into his thoughts, accompanied by a firm hand on his shoulder. His eyes searched Beomgyu’s face, concern evident. “What’s troubling you?”
“Nothing, I…” Beomgyu’s voice cracked as he tried to answer. He swallowed hard, looking away. “I guess I’m just… more tired than usual.”
“If you need to talk, let me know, okay?”
"When are you going to talk to him?" Do-hyun asked, breathless, as you pulled him to his feet after knocking him down for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. The moon guides your makeshift sparring circle. You hadn’t planned to spar with him; it just happened. Restless, you’d found yourself outside his tent, knocking like a ghost haunting its own grave.
You released his hand abruptly, stepping back at his words. “Let’s go again,” you said, more to yourself than to him.
Without waiting for a reply, you charged, throwing a closed fist at his right side. He dodged it easily, his laughter breaking the tense silence.
“You know, you’re way less terrifying when you’re distracted,” he teased, grinning at the glare you shot him. “Seriously, Y/N? How long are you gonna keep ignoring the boy? The guy’s trying so hard it’s starting to make me feel bad. If it were me, I’d have fumbled already—”
Before he could finish, you grabbed him by the neck, locking him in a chokehold. “I t-tap out! Fuck! You're going to kill me.” he wheezed, coughing as you let him go. He stumbled back, rubbing his neck. “Shit, I forgot how strong your grip is. For real, how are you not a man?” You didn’t respond. Instead, you wiped the sweat from your forehead, glancing at the clock. It was nearing 11 p.m.
“Reject the kid already, will you? Do him a favor so he can move on.” Do-hyun muttered, reaching for his water bottle. “You cold-ass woman.”
“He’s not a kid,” you said finally, your voice low but firm. Grabbing a towel, you wiped the sweat from your face. “He’s almost my age.”
“Sure,” Do-hyun replied, watching you closely as you drank from your water bottle, to the bags under your eyes. “Not sleeping again?”
You shook your head, capping the bottle and tossing it aside. “It’s harder these days.”
“I know,” he said, softer now. “But you’ve gotta try. I need to head out anyway—errands tomorrow. And honestly, I can’t take more knockouts from you. Have mercy.”
“Idiot,” you muttered, smirking despite yourself.
“You’re the idiot for ignoring—” You didn’t let him finish, rolling your eyes as you turned and headed for your tent. A quick shower later, you were lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. The camp quiet, your mind was anything but. Frowning, you closed your eyes, waiting for sleep to come.
It never did.
Beomgyu tossed onto his right side again, the thin mattress beneath him groaning in protest. He lost count of how many times he'd shifted since lying down, each movement more restless than the last.
His chest felt tight, like his heart was pounding against some invisible weight. He sat up, running a hand through his messy hair in frustration. His gaze wandered aimlessly, landing on the small table by his bedside. He froze.
Polaroids.
The universe must be mocking him for missing you this much. Did he really need more reminders?
He inhaled deeply, the sound sharp in the quiet of his tent. Standing abruptly, he began pacing, his feet brushing against the worn canvas floor as a single question churned in his mind: Should I see her? His eyes flicked to the clock—11:28 p.m. Were you even awake?
But then, what difference did it make? Another night of lying there, drowning in this ache, wasn’t an option. He just needed something—your face, your voice, anything.
That’s what he told himself as he stopped pacing, turning toward the small mirror propped against the tent’s corner. His reflection stared back, dishevelled and vulnerable in a way he hadn’t let himself feel in years. He raked his hands through his hair, trying to smooth it out, What the hell are you doing? he thought bitterly. You’re an idol for god’s sake.
But then again, you were… a goddess. And right now, none of the titles, pressure, his previous job or self-doubt mattered. It doesn't matter if you'll kick him out as soon as you see him.
What mattered was seeing you.
He stopped just short of your tent, staring at the outline of it. His breath hitched, and his body betrayed him as he turned away, a cowardly retreat already forming in his mind. But he only made it three steps before he falter, his fists clenching at his sides. No. Not tonight.
He turned back, counting the seconds in his head. He rehearsed the words he’d been forming for days now, words that felt too small for what he really wanted to say but would have to do. This had to count. It had to—
“I can see you out there, you know. What do you want?” The sound of your voice sent a panic through him. You sounded tired, a little annoyed. The shadows must have given him away—his pacing back and forth casting restless shapes against the thin fabric of your tent. “Do-hyun?”
“It’s… Beomgyu,” He countered quickly, the way you said another man’s name at this hour unsettling him more than it should. Silence. He braced himself for rejection, for the possibility that you’d tell him to go, that he's insane to be here at this hour, or that you didn’t want to see him.
But the truth is, your eyes are wide inside. He’s insane. What is he doing here? Why now? You stand up slowly, your fingers brushing the edge of your blanket. You can’t turn him away now. It’s too obvious. “Come in.”
Beomgyu that stood outside your tent, hand unstable when he finally pushed the flap aside. The sudden rush of light revealed you, standing there, your eyes locking onto his. For a minute, he forgot how to breathe. His eyes on your face like he was trying to memorize every line, every shadow. “Hi,” he said, it wasn’t how he had planned to start, but it was all he could manage.
You instinctively stepped behind, folding your arms across your chest as a barrier. “What is it?” You looked away, unable to meet his eyes. They were too much—too deep, too brown.
"Are you mad at me?" Beomgyu's voice wavers, cracking slightly as the words spill out. All those rehearsed lines, the ones he'd turned over in his head a thousand times, crumble into this raw, unpolished question.
"I-I— you’ve been ignoring me, Y/N. Don’t even try to deny it." His voice rises, “I called— I even called you out there twice, and I know you heard me.” He pauses, the lump in his throat refuses to go away. "Did I… do something? Something that made you mad at me?" The words are choked, his voice barely above a whisper now.
His eyes—glassy, rimmed red—look at you—he’s holding back tears; you can tell by the way his lips tremble slightly, the way he bites down hard on the inside of his cheek. But despite it all, he doesn’t look away. He can’t.
Not when he’s missed you this much.
"Beomgyu, whatever you think is between us," you let your arms fall limply to your sides, "it's nothing. This… this is just a mission. Soon, everything will go back to where it belongs." You pause, your words deliberate, heavy. "And we’ll never see each other again."
His eyebrows knit, disbelief etched his face. "Who decides that? Who says that?"
You exhale sharply, the weight of your own words pressing down on your chest. "It’s just how it is. That’s how it’s always been. You should surround yourself with people like you."
"I—" he starts, but you cut him off before he can unravel any further.
"Stop this." Your tone hardens, more defensive than you intend, but it’s the only way to protect yourself. "Don’t talk to me again, Beomgyu. Don’t seek me out. If you’re just… grateful for what happened, fine. I’ll accept that. And if you feel guilty about it?" Your voice cracks slightly, but you push through, "Then maybe… maybe you can pay me back someday. In the future."
Beomgyu’s lips trembled as he fought for his next words, his hands shaking. “Then tell me. Tell me, straight to my face, looking in my eyes, that you didn’t feel anything. That you don’t feel anything for me. That you’ll never like me, no matter what I do. Even if I…” His voice broke, a tear slipping down his cheek. “Even if I die trying.”
Everything you’ve held back finally spill over, and your voice comes out in a shaky whisper. "Dumbass."
“You can’t,” he said softly, eyes tracing the fall of your tears.
“What are—”
"I think I'm in love with you," he says, voice breaking on his confession. "I'm in love with you that I wonder how the hell I lived without you all these years. I’m so glad I met you, did you know that? If I’d known, I’d have counted down the days—even marked my calendar stupidly—just to know you were waiting for me at the end of it. And if I had a choice to go back in time, to stop this apocalypse before it happened, I wouldn’t do a damn thing. Because I’d lose the chance to meet you. Here. As insane as it sounds," His voice shakes, but he pushes on, "I won’t—I won’t force you…. to like me. That’s not what I want. But would it be selfish of me to ask you to stop acting like I'm not here? Like you don’t know me? I can’t…" He hiccups, shoulders shaking. "I just want to be part of your life, Y/N."
His words made you take a step forward, your hands trembling as you cup his tear-streaked face. He flinches at first, but then he melts into your touch, his breathing uneven. “I’m afraid,” you admitted, your voice breaking, freckles on his face evident with his face bare. “I’ll ruin you. I’ll ruin your life. I'm a fucking ruined person. Can’t you see that?”
"I see you more than you see yourself," His hands come up to cover yours, gripping them tightly as though letting go would mean losing you. "You're a fucking angel."
You sobbed at his words. Angel. The word echoed in your head, a word so unfamiliar. How could someone as shattered as you ever be called that? How could Beomgyu see anything but the cracks, the mess? How could someone this real—this kind—exist? Is he even real? A dream? Or is he just a figment of your imagination, conjured up in your darkest moments to give you false hope?
Your tears fall faster, and Beomgyu panics, own heart breaking at the sight of you crying. Gently, he lets go of your hands and slides his up your arms, his touch featherlight—moves slowly, as though afraid he might hurt you, tracing his way to your shoulders, then your neck, until his fingers cradle your face.
“Who would’ve guessed that you’re a crybaby too?” he whispered, his voice uneven but with affection. He steps closer, wrapping you in his arms, pulling your unstable form against his chest. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, your sobs muffled against his warmth.
You feel it—all the longing, all the sleepless nights spent thinking about him. The ache of holding yourself back every time you see him from afar—waiting for you, searching for you. He holds you.
He holds you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. One hand caresses the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair, while the other keeps you pressed against him. He presses soft, baby kisses to the side of your head, whispering. "Y/N,"
You stepped back slightly from his embrace, but Beomgyu’s hands stayed on your face, his thumbs softly brushing against your skin. He smiled—how could a single expression hold so much, and somehow, make everything hurt a little less? You swallowed the lump in your throat. Maybe, just maybe, you could have this. Even if it was only for tonight.
You rose onto your tiptoes, and leaned in. Closing your eyes, you pressed your lips to his—a fleeting, tentative kiss that barely lasted a second. It was quick, and when you pulled back, you were met with his wide eyes staring down at you, stunned. He hadn’t even had time to close them.
For a moment, neither of you moved. His eyes half-closed, his hands tightened slightly on your face, and before you could say anything, he leaned down, pulling you back in.
This time, he kissed you. He tilted his head just enough to fit against you perfectly, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that made your knees weak. His grip on your face was firm, his tounge grazing your lips—a soft plea—asking for entrance. You let him in, letting him taste you as you tasted him.
Both of you pull back, breaths heavy. A delicate string of saliva still connects your lips, breaking as Beomgyu takes a step forward more, his eyes locked on yours, "I want you."
You nod, reaching for him, your fingers curling around his arm to pull him back into you. "We have to be quiet."
His hands find your waist, fingers dip beneath the hem of your shirt. He lifts it, the fabric brushing over your skin, exposing the softness and heat of your bare waist to his touch. His palms glide over your skin.
You found yourself on your back, on the softness of your mattress, his weight settled on top of you. Delicate and warm. His hand grasps your thigh and he hoist it up his waist. “Please kiss me.” He murmurs into your mouth.
Your tongue brushes his, and he squeezes your thigh. He returns it, seeking your bottom lip to lightly suck on it. Your hands are up his shirt and he starts tugging down your loose pants. He shakily runs a finger between your legs and you inhale sharply. He rubs you, the feel of you soft, so good. He spreads you apart and gently caresses your clit. And you’re so fucking wet. He can't help but give a light sensual pinch. "Beomgyu," you moan on his lips. Made his heart flutter.
Your breathing is harsher and he looks at your pretty face as he shoves his middle finger in you—touching you is enough for him. He looks at you—wanting to see every expression you make. He’s going to fuck you until you cum all over his dick and then he’ll do it again. Until you don't doubt whatever this is. Until you won't be able to think about leaving him anymore.
He fumbles with your remaining clothes, taking his time as if savouring every second. It’s slower than you expected—partly because he keeps grabbing your face, pulling you into deep, heated kisses that leave you breathless.
Your hands help him get out of his shirt, pulls it over his head—hair falling over his forehead prettily. He leans down and kisses you—hands grab your hair and roam your body, his mouth does the same. Your face, your neck, your shoulder blades. "You're beautiful,"
He kisses down your chest and you run your fingers through his now much longer hair. He licks your nipple and your breath hitched. He bites gently, then bites harder and your back arches—he suckles, then lick. He does it again and again, to your left and right, giving them enough attention. He hears you moan—smirks at your skin—and he keeps wanting to hear it.
He goes down further—kisses down and the smell of you is divine. His face hovers and with his fingers he spreads you apart. He swallows—salivating. He sticks his tongue out, lightly licking your clit. He buries his face in, tongue inside, hands on your hips. "Shit, you taste so sweet, could eat this all day," He groans, lapping up, sucks the arousal out of you. He moves up, nose bumping on your clit then he suckles. His dick is throbbing at the way you taste. Your hands pull his hair, and he feels you down on his chin. He was leaving no parts untouched by his warm mouth.
Going back to you, looking at your face, he bows his head. “Kiss me.”
You pull his head down and kiss him, he slides right in and you cry out. "Fuck, you're so tight," He kisses you while he trusts in and out, your moans muffled on his mouth. "You feel so good," Your nails on his back scrape and he thrusts, hard, and keeps himself all the way in and you squirm under him, feeling you coming close.
"More, gyu." You whine out, legs gripping his warm waist as you pull him closer. He did, trust becoming faster, hitting the spot that made you moan out his name. He repositions himself deeper inside you, pressing you into the mattress, his free hand reaching for your clit, rubs lightly. "M'close," Then you felt it, the warm fuzzy feeling—the rush, almost blinding—the warmth of his arms and the softness of his whispered name on your lips that brought tears to your eyes. His own cum mixing with yours.
He smiled down at you, his lips quirking in a soft, almost shy grin as he took in your fucked-out expression. “I love you,” he whispered. He can't help himself.
The faint sound of running water filled the room as he disappeared for a second, and you assumed he was cleaning himself up. When he returned, his pants sit low on his hips, his chest still bare, and in his hand, he holds a warm, damp cloth.
Your eyes follow him as he approaches, his eyes filled with so much love it made your chest ache. He kneels beside you, his touch was careful as he ran the cloth over your skin, wiping away, cleaning you up. He worked slowly, keeping one of his hand holding your own, focus entirely on you.
When he was done, he looked up at you with that same soft smile, his eyes searching yours. You feel your own lips curve in response, reaching out to touch his flushed cheeks, your fingers brushing against his warm skin. The simple touch makes his smile widen into a boyish grin. His grin burned into the back of your mind. He holds you. He holds your heart too.
I love you too.
The warm rays of the morning sun seeped through the thin walls of the tent, casting a golden glow over the room. Dust motes floated in the light, drifting toward the tangled mess of blankets wrapped around your body.
It was the best sleep you’d had in a long time. You didn’t even remember falling asleep. A yawn slipped past your lips as you stretched your arms, rolling over to the other side.
You weren't alone.
Beomgyu.
He looked so peaceful when he slept, his features soft and unguarded. The sunlight kissed his skin, giving it a honeyed glow, and his hair fell messily over his forehead, looking impossibly touchable. The blanket on his side was pushed low, revealing that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. His pale chest and neck were scattered with faint love bites—marks you had left there. His lips were slightly parted, and he looked so utterly…. serene, it made your chest swell.
You reached out, your fingers gently comb his hair. “Beomgyu,” you murmured softly.
"Hm?" He hummed.
You smiled, and he returned it—his smile lazy, but somehow brighter than the sunlight spilling into the room. “Hi, baby,” he greeted,
"It's morning,"
He groaned lightly, shifting closer to you. “I think… we should stay here,” he mumbled, his voice raspy and slow, as though speaking was too much effort. He moved until he was pressed against you, his head resting on your bare chest as he planted soft, sleepy kisses against your skin.
“I have things to do, you know,” you protested lightly, though you made no move to stop him. Instead, you let your arms encircle him, cradling his head. His hand slid beneath the blanket, settling on the small of your back, familiar against your bare skin.
“Wake up,” you poked his cheek with your finger.
He parted his lips and let out an exaggerated, snore that startled a laugh out of you. “Idiot,” you said, shaking your head, though the fondness in your tone betrayed you. “I’ll give you an hour. After that, Captain Joon is going to start looking for me.”
"Let him look," Beomgyu groaned, burying his face deeper into your chest like a stubborn child. “But why is he always looking for you?”
“Because he’s my captain, you twat,” you replied, pinching his cheeks. “And, oh yeah, he’s my father.”
“What!?” Beomgyu shot up, his eyes now wide open and his sleepiness completely forgotten.
“Well, my adoptive father," Beomgyu’s eyes softened instantly at the word adoptive. He didn’t press, but his silence, the slight tilt of his head, was an invitation to continue if you were ready.
“Yeah, so, uh…” You swallowed hard, your fingers fidgeting slightly. “My parents were both special forces soldiers. When they were on a mission—a spy operation—they… they didn’t make it back. I was five.”Hi hand found yours, his fingers squeezing gently.
“I was sent to an orphanage after that,” you continued, your voice steadier now. "I was there for a few years. Then, when I was ten, Captain Joon showed up out of nowhere. Turns out, he was my dad’s best friend. He adopted me. Took me in like I was his own.”
Beomgyu nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “How did you end up being a soldier?” he asked softly.
A bittersweet smile tugged at your lips. “I guess it was always in me,” you admitted. “Even as a kid. Captain Joon saw that too. I was… kind of wild. Always getting into trouble at school—detentions, fights. I couldn’t stand bullies, even when they weren’t targeting me. I’d step in, no matter the cost.” You paused, letting out a quiet laugh. “It got worse when I got older. One time, I was walking home, and this group of older boys jumped me. They were bigger, stronger… I didn’t stand a chance. Captain Joon saw what happened, and after that, he decided to put me somewhere I couldn’t get hurt like that anymore. He took me with him—in a military camp.”
Your fingers brushed the hem of the blanket, your voice growing quieter. “I officially became a soldier when I was seventeen. Got into the Black Berets a year later.”
Beomgyu traced the line of your jaw with his fingers, his gentle touch made the words come easier.
“The time you asked me how old I was when I started…” You hesitated, but his intertwined hands with yours encouraged you to continue. “I got rude because… that question was asked of me once before. By someone. He was bitten by the infected, and I—” Your voice cracked, “I ended up killing him.”
You couldn’t meet his eyes, couldn’t bear the thought of seeing judgment—or worse, pity—staring back at you, but Beomgyu didn’t let you hide. His hands cupped your face, tilting it up until your eyes met his.
“Thank you for telling me,” he said, “He’s not suffering anymore.”
Your eyes shimmered with unshed tears as you nodded. He wrapped his arms around you, guiding your head to rest against his chest. No words were spoken. For minutes, you stayed like that, listening to the thump of his heart against yours, a language of its own.
"I should probably be more careful around Captain Joon,” Beomgyu said out of nowhere, trying to lighten the mood.
You laughed, arms around you holding you closer. When he noticed you staring at him, he tilted his head slightly, his expression playful. “What? Too handsome?”
“Pfft,” you snorted. “Androgynous.” He whined dramatically, leaning in to pepper your face with kisses. You tried to push him away, laughing as he chased your retreating lips.
“Who would’ve thought,” he murmured, “that I’d fall in love with the prettiest girl at the end of the world?”
The words brought heat to your cheeks, and you turned your face away to hide the blush. “Okay, that’s enough,” you said, slipping out of his hold and reaching for the first shirt you could find—it was his.
He sat up too, watching you pull his shirt over your body. The hem brushed your thighs, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He gathers your hair that had gotten caught under the shirt, his fingers brushing against your neck. "I need to shower, Beomgyu."
"Can I join you? You know, to save water," He immediately quips. You smirk, your eyes meeting his before you give him a subtle nod. That tiny gesture is all it takes for his heart to race, he’s sure you can hear it.
In fact, there was barely any washing done.
Beomgyu finally steps out of your tent, though it took more convincing from you than it probably should have.
You’re still inside, safe from the prying eyes. The sun is higher now, casting everything in a harsh light. He squints, adjusting to the brightness, and immediately spots a few soldiers milling about nearby.
His stomach drops. If any of them so much as glance his way, they’ll know exactly where he just came from. Your tent. The only woman’s tent in a unit of 25 soldiers.
He keeps his head down, heat creeping up his neck and to his ears as he feels the unseen stares. The scenario playing out like an idol dating scandal—and dispatch is about to break the story of his life.
Choi Beomgyu, caught sneaking out of her tent at sunrise, he imagines the headline, biting back a groan. He quickens his pace, muttering to himself, "I’m so dead."
"Hold up."
A firm hand clamped down on Beomgyu's shoulder, halting his little walk of shame. His eyes widened as he turned, meeting the sharp gaze of Do-hyun. The older soldier’s eyes flicked back toward your tent—just six steps behind him—then back to Beomgyu’s freshly washed hair.
"And here I was, starting to feel sorry for you," Do-hyun said with a smirk. Beomgyu barely had time to stammer out a response before the tent flap rustled, and you stepped out.
"Do-hyun," Beomgyu glanced at you briefly, but you didn't meet his eyes, locked on Do-hyun instead. "Let’s go, yeah?" you asked, a pointed glare following the words.
Do-hyun chuckled, lifting his hands in mock surrender as he stepped back, releasing Beomgyu. "Sure, sure," he said, his smirk softening into something less smug.
The two of you walked off, leaving Beomgyu standing there, you glance back at him, catching a glimpse of his warm, flustered expression. Do-hyun caught it, muttering, "You’ve got him wrapped around your… finger,"
You didn’t even break stride, your foot shot out, connecting with his shin. Do-hyun yelped, doubling over, he clutched his leg. "Ow! Damn it, I was kidding!"
Beomgyu finally exhales when his tent comes into view, relief flooding his chest. He thought he was in the clear—until he steps inside and sees his three brothers waiting for him.
"Where the fuck were you?" Beomgyu knows he’s not getting out of this easily. This is going to be a long talk.
Beomgyu tells them. Everything. He leaves out the more private details—of course, he does. Some things are just for him to know. He starts from the beginning, telling them, that he just… fell in love with you.
The room goes quiet for a beat before Soobin steps forward, wrapping him in a hug, his voice soft. "Our little Beomgyu’s growing up," he says, sniffing dramatically.
Taehyun follows with a few firms pats on Beomgyu’s back, his smile warm. Yeonjun, leaning casually against the tent post, grins and shakes his head. "You lucky bastard," he teases, but there’s nothing but happiness in his voice.
The four of them embrace, there's a gap in their circle—a place reserved for someone who isn’t there yet but will be soon.
The day passed with a warmth in your chest, fueled by stealing stares and fleeting touches from Beomgyu.
Lunch was a lively affair, shared with Do-hyun, Eun-woo, Beom-seok, Yeonjun, Soobin, and Taehyun. The meal was filled with teasing banter, laughter cutting through the usual hum of camp life. Eun-woo’s soft pats on Beomgyu’s back and Beom-seok’s subtle nods didn’t go unnoticed—they were quiet acknowledgments.
Now, you walk toward the largest tent with your three teammates by your side. Beomgyu’s heated kiss still burns on your lips, the warmth of it fresh, even though it happened only an hour ago. — Captain Joon has called an unexpected night meeting, one that made Beomgyu pout as he agrees to wait at your tent.
The four of you step inside and salute, standing at attention until the captain’s familiar command: "Sit down."
The scene is one you’ve known many times before. Yet, there are absences that can't be ignored. Ji-ho, reporting in via radio, assures that he’ll be here soon with Huening Kai. — And Seo-jun.
“A brand-new mission for us,” Captain Joon announces, his eyes with a glimmer of hope rarely seen these days. “Word is there’s a doctor working on the possibility of a cure. And since Jeonju camp is the most stable for now, he’ll need assistance. This is the most critical priority, and we’ll be the ones handling it.”
Murmurs ripple through the group, surprised with cautious optimism. A cure—it sounds almost too good to be true. You let out a slow breath of relief, the faintest ember of hope flickering in your chest. Maybe, just maybe, humanity has a chance this time.
“We’re leaving in a few,” Captain Joon continues, his voice firm. “No time to waste.”
When you reach your tent, Beomgyu is already seated, and waiting. The moment he sees you, he stands, and you stride toward him without wasting any second, pressing your lips to his in a kiss he immediately melts into, “Are you okay?” he asks softly when you pull away, hands finding your waist.
“Hmm.” You nod, leaning into his embrace, arms wrapping around him. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “We’re leaving now. Mission came in.”
Beomgyu stiffens. “Right now?"
“Yes.”
“O-okay.” His voice falters, and he swallows hard.
“It might take a while,” you admit, your hands sliding up to cup his face as you look into his wide, searching eyes. “It’s pretty far out, and I—”
“Come back to me safely,” he interrupts, his hands cradle your face. His thumbs gently brush your cheeks. “You don’t have a choice.”
A small smile tugs at your lips. You nod, "I promise.” Reaching up, you unclasp your dog tag, holding it carefully in your hands before slipping it around his neck. His eyes never leave yours, he watches you secure the chain.
“I’ll see you soon,”
He holds you.
It’s been two days since you left, and Beomgyu sits at the table, pushing his food around more than eating it. His mind keeps drifting back to you. The weight of your necklace around his neck is comforting—but it reminds him you’re not here. He sighs.
“There's a car coming!” someone shouts from the outer courtyard. Beomgyu’s head snaps up, his heart skipping a beat. He’s out of his chair in an instant, sprinting toward the commotion, the rest of his members right on his heels. His breath comes fast, uneven, as he skids to a stop outside. His eyes widen, and for the first time in days, relief crashes over him.
“KAI!”
The four of them swarm the youngest member, nearly knocking him off his feet in their excitement. Kai’s laughter echoes through the courtyard as Soobin immediately bursts into tears, clinging to him like a lifeline. Beomgyu hugs him tightly, burying his face in his shoulder, while Yeonjun ruffles his hair affectionately. Taehyun, ever practical, starts inspecting Kai’s arms and legs for injuries.
Everything feels right. They’re together, whole. Now, he just needs you to get back here.
They fussed over Kai like he was the most fragile thing in the world, each of them trying to make up for lost time. Kai explained what happened—they had been trapped, which was why it took weeks to get here. But Ji-ho, just as you’d assured them before, had been capable. He’d taken care of Kai and somehow managed to get him back to them safely.
Later that night, Beomgyu was shuffling on his bed while Kai lounged comfortably nearby. It wasn’t long before the others would join them; Kai had pleaded for a sleepover with his brothers, saying he missed them too much to sleep alone. Of course, none of them could resist.
“Woah.” Kai says, and Beomgyu turned, pillow in hand, to see what had caught his attention. The younger was staring at the two Polaroids on Beomgyu’s bedside table, face lit with curiosity. “Is this real?”
“What, you think I Photoshopped them or something?” Beomgyu laughed, a little sheepishly. He paused, before adding, “I took those with her… on the way here.”
Kai’s eyes flicked back to him, curious. “You’re together?”
“Yeah.” Beomgyu’s lips tugged into a shy smile. “She’s my girlfriend now.”
Kai’s grin was blinding, his low ponytail framed his face as he leaned closer to get another look at the photos. “She’s pretty. I’m really happy for you, Beomgyu.”
You step through the gates of Jeonju camp, your body aching. It’s been a month since you last saw this place—since you last saw him.
Your clothes are filthy, smeared with dirt and the blood of infected, but none of that matters now. The Doctor is alive, the cure is nearly complete, and your mission is done. You made it.
And then you see him.
Beomgyu is already running toward you, his eyes wide and filled with something that looks like disbelief, like awe, love. You can’t stop the smile that breaks across your face, even as your legs wobble beneath you. You start running too, stumbling at first, but your body pushes through the pain, the rest of the world blurring into nothing.
When you reach him, he doesn’t hesitate. His arms wrap around you tightly, lifting you off the ground. He holds you close. You cling to him, shaking from exhaustion and adrenaline and the overwhelming relief of being home—of being with him.
Everyone stops to watch. In a world so cruel, so damned, there’s something warm in the way two lovers find each other again.
A reminder to believe there’s still something worth fighting for.
"See you soon, and take care of yourself," Soobin leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. You nod, offering a small smile. "You too."
His lips curve into that familiar, reassuring smile as he hoists his backpack over his shoulder. "Y/N, stay safe," Taehyun says, stepping in to wrap you in a firm hug. You nod on his shoulders.
"Let’s have ramyeon soon, yeah?" Yeonjun chimes in, his usual playful grin lighting up his face. Without waiting for a reply, he grabs your face in his hands and plants a kiss on your forehead, mirroring Soobin. "I’ll cook for you," he adds confidently, pulling back but keeping his hands on your cheeks.
You can’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes. "Okay, Mr. Married to Ramyeon." He laughs too, giving your cheeks a playful pat before turning to follow Soobin and Taehyun onto the bus.
For a moment, you just stand there, watching the three of them board.
You turn to see Kai looking down at you, his expression shy. He pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you with surprising strength. "I’ll miss you," he sings softly.
It’s been three months since the doctor arrived at Jeonju camp with you. A month later he was in, and the cure was complete. Those who received the shot stopped being targeted by the infected—it was as if the vaccine turned them invisible. No more running, no more hiding.
After countless tests and trial runs, the results were undeniable: 100% effective. The world is still far from healed. There’s so much to rebuild, so much left to do. But this vaccine—it’s a start.
And now, Hybe is taking them back. Back to the world they belong to. Back to the life they’d almost forgotten was possible.
A warm hand slips into yours, and you glance up to meet Beomgyu’s glassy stare. Your eyes flicker to his neck—your dog tags still hang there, glinting in the light. He holds your hands and lifts them to his lips, pressing a warm kiss to your palms without breaking eye contact.
“I promise to come back to you as soon as I can, okay?” he whispers, "I promise."
You know the truth. You’ll never see him again. This is it.
You already have your orders—a mission overseas to distribute the cure, to spread it where it’s needed most. You don’t know when you’ll be back. Or if you’ll be back. The world finally has a chance, but your worlds were never meant to stay intertwined.
“Okay,” you say softly, forcing a small smile onto your lips. You’ll never wake up to the sound of his soft breaths against your skin again. You’ll never walk through the Daegu home he often described with so much warmth, never see the place where his happiest memories were made. A place he wants to go with you.
He’s an idol—a star shining too brightly for someone like you. A celebrity adored by millions. And you’re a soldier, bound by duty to serve your country. He deserves someone gentle, maybe an idol like him, or someone who fits seamlessly into his world. Someone who isn’t constantly called away to fight battles in far-off places.
It made you happy while it lasted.
This dream—this borrowed time you had.
“I love you,” he says suddenly,, and then he’s kissing you. Once, twice—then a third time, slower. He kisses the tip of your nose, and you smile through the tears that blur your vision. You stare at him, taking in everything—the curve of his lips, the softness in his eyes, the way his hair falls... across his forehead. You try to commit it all to memory. “I love you so much,” he says, voice trembling as he cups your face.
“I love you too,”
YEAR 2030
You find yourself in the kitchen, humming softly as the news plays in the background. The aroma of spices and fresh herbs fills the space. You chop vegetables for tonight’s dinner, the rhythm of the task bringing you peace. You always find yourself great with knives, you suppose.
A smile spreads across your face as you feel it—a pair of hands, warm, gently caressing your stomach. A body presses against your back, and a soft breath grazes the curve of your neck. The scent of him surrounds you, and you don’t need to turn around to know who it is.
When you do turn, you’re met with his smile—the one that lights up his entire face, even as exhaustion lingers in his eyes. He looks like he just got home, probably rushing straight from practice, his hair still slightly damp from the shower. Without a word, he drops to one knee, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his cheek against your growing belly.
“I missed the both of you,” he whispers, voice soft and full of love.
You laugh, your hand moving to his hair, your fingers combing through the soft freshly bleached blonde strands. “I don’t think they can hear you yet, Gyu,” you tease gently, your smile tender. “I’m only five months along.”
He tilts his head up to look at you, his lips forming a playful pout that makes you giggle like you’re both still teenagers. Standing, he cups your face with both hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks, wedding band catches the light, whispering of the life you’ve built together. The life you thought was impossible. But he made it—he made it possible.
If he wanted to—he would.
“I don’t care,” he says softly, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. Then your nose. And finally, your lips. His scent, his warmth, the way his heart beats against yours—he's home.
He holds you.
The only sound is the exchanged kisses and the faint murmur of the news on the television.
Following the record-breaking success of TOMORROW X TOGETHER’s latest comeback, member Beomgyu has surprised fans worldwide by releasing his first solo album, The Last Safe Place. The album, deeply supported by MOAs, has already sparked widespread buzz—not only for its musical brilliance but also for the heartfelt inspiration behind it: Beomgyu’s recent marriage.
“This album is a love letter, a reflection of the most meaningful chapter in my life,” Beomgyu shared. “It’s inspired by the warmth, comfort, and love I’ve found in my marriage. I wanted to capture the feeling of having someone to come home to—a place where your heart feels at peace, no matter what chaos the world throws at you.”
THE END.
#the last safe place#txt#beomgyu#txt post#txt x reader#tubatu#tomorrow x together#txt smut#beomgyu x reader#beomgyu x you#beomgyu txt#choi beomgyu#txt beomgyu
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Not Quite Poison
Barty Crouch Jr. X Potter!Reader
Summary: after a chance meeting in the library; a whirlwind love affair between Barty Crouch Jr and the youngest Potter blossom, but neither of them were prepared for how life would go after.
AN: MONTHS. I have finally finished this after MONTHS. Sorry if the writing style is a bit whiplash, I have changed a lot since then. I can't get away from Barty he owns my whole heart
CW: not proof read, no use of Y/N, Obsessive!Barty(implied obsessive reader), sexual themes and scenes, graveling and begging, Protective Sirius and James, fighting, lying, self indulgent, cursing, Remus x reader if you squint, angst, angst with slightly happy ending, fem reader, not cannon complacent, sexual innuendo, underage drinking, major character death (unless...?)
WC: ~17k
You never felt as bold or as powerful as you did at Hogwarts, walking the halls with your older brother and his friends.
Shamelessly you always thought they were the coolest. The Marauders, James Potter; Head Boy, Remus Lupin; Prefect, Sirius Black; one of the most clever and strongest duelists in the school, and Peter Pettigrew; the sweetest boy you'd ever meet.
They had a reputation for themselves even before you came to the school a year later. Not that it surprised you, your brother had always been a moth to the limelight. You were just happy he never aimed that at you, being fiercely protective of his little sister. They all were pretty defensive when it came to ‘little Potter.’
But, there was only so much their help could do.
“Dreadful! A Dreadful on my potions exam!” You groaned as you wiggled the parchment in front of you, as if shaking it enough would change the ink that was etched on the page.
“I have never gotten such a low score in my life!” You whined and hugged the paper. Giving a small sigh as Sirius ruffled your hair. “Calm it, Bambi. It’s just a practice test. You're becoming Moony.”
Sirius gestured behind his back to Remus, who was wearing an offended look.
“I'm sorry I couldn't help you more.” Lily called over from under your brother's arm, sending you a sympathetic look. You just mumbled.
“It’s alright, Red. If even you can’t save me, I’m well and truly done for.” You groaned and Remus nudged you with his elbow.
“I could always give you a hand.”
You shook your head and bit your cheek. “Nah, think it’s best I crack on alone. No distractions.” You waved your hands out dramatically, full of resolve. Enough to make Sirius laugh at you and Lily to roll her eyes fondly. The redhead looked up and smirked at James who seemed to be lost in his own little world, staring at her.
“Jamie, dearest?”
He blinked out of his daze and smiled at her. “What's that?”
“Were you paying any mind to your little sister?”
“She was talking?” He muttered and looked over at you, greeted by a bird that wasn't under his arm, instead poking from between your index and ring finger. “Ah, so I’ve finally learned to tune her out. Only took me seventeen years.”
“Sod off.” You stuck your tongue out at him and he blew a raspberry back, before Lily gave him a reprimanding smack on his shoulder.
“You're meant to be head boy.” She huffed and you just smirked.
“How they let him get that badge, I’ll never know!” You shouted up to your brother who made a mocking face at you with his eyes crossed. Remus snickering from your other side.
“Oi, James, keep it to yourself,” Peter mumbled, shuffling out of spitting range.
“It's like watching two first years go at it.” Sirius mumbled and Remus shrugged. “I don't think they ever left that age.”
You rolled your eyes fondly at the jabs as Lily grabbed your brother's face and squished his cheeks, leaving him a smiling fool.
“Okay, I'm heading to the library.” You offered and got a variety of responses as you left. “Got to make sense of this disaster of a grade.”
Their echoes of conversation faded out as your shoes hit the path to the library. Once there, you were shocked to see how many people were studying in the now cramped hall. It was fair to say that everyone here had a poor score on their test.
What was worse is you didn't recognize a single person. Not well enough to sit with.
You walked down the long path between the aisle and tried to spot an open seat somewhere. That was, until you spotted an empty table. An entirely empty table with a few spare books shoved across the old oak. You lit up and hurried over to take the seat closest to the wall. Setting up your things to begin to study, not noticing how people had been avoiding that table like the plague.
As you set up your books and notes you were oblivious to any presence around you, until the seat right next to you was pulled out. “You know…”
You looked up quickly and you were greeted by a pair of piercing green eyes that made your heart stop. What was it with Potters and green eyes? You'd never know.
“If you wanted my seat that bad, you could have just asked.” You were suddenly snapped to your senses when you recognized the voice.
Bartemius Crouch Junior. Fuck.
You didn't talk to many RavenClaws, you hardly talked to any male classmates considering how often your brother would scare them off. Sirius wasn't much help either.
However, Crouch had a special reputation. Hanging around dangerous Slytherins, loud, dangerous, obsessive and as smart as a damned whip. You only knew what Sirius told you about him, which was nothing good, considering how both of them absolutely despised each other. James didn't like him either, but Lily spoke highly of him.
Lily spoke highly of almost anyone, though.
You only realized you had been staring at him when he arched his eyebrow.
“Cat got your tongue, Potter?” He teased as he took his seat and you snapped out of your thoughts. Still just blinking owlishly at him. This made him chuckle softly, leaving him to simply shrug and get back to work.
With how he behaved around most of the students you expected him to chase you off or bare his fangs- maybe bite you. Who knows? People described him more like a rabid animal than a proper student. Yet you had sat in his seat, at his table, pushed aside and even stolen one of his books, and he was as calm as a cat.
“Er- sorry, I didn't mean to intrude.” You whispered and he glanced over at you. Meeting your eyes with a slowly growing smile.
“So she does talk?” He teased and you pursed your lips.
“When she wants to.”
“That's not very Potter of you.”
“It's very me of me.”
His smile only grew as your banter continued. His shoulders seemed to relax and he became a bit more playful. You felt like you might be insane, were there two Crouchs? There is no way this is the same boy who almost beat Sirius to a pulp over a remark about his own brother.
“So… do you mind if I study here?” You asked softly and he shrugged, going back to his paper.
“I don't mind a pretty face.”
This time it was your turn to smile, rolling your eyes a bit fondly. You got back to your notes, writing down each problem you had gotten wrong and looking for the proper potion recipe, starting with Wiggenweld. You began to mutter to yourself as you looked across three different books. Rubbing your temple in irritation as you tried to understand the ingredients and grew more and more infuriated.
“You're doing it wrong.” You heard Barty mumble from beside you. You snapped your head over to glare at him and it only served to make him chuckle.
“I don't think I've ever seen a Dreadful in my life.”
You flushed a bit and moved your wrist to hide your marks. “What happened to you being nice to me?”
“Sorry, sorry.” He chuckled and shifted his seat a bit closer to you, looking at the books. “What's got you confused?”
“I just..” You sighed and gestured to the books. “Every one of these say something different! Salamander blood until it turns yellow, then orange, then green. But this one says Unicorn horn and Lionfish spines. And then this one says Sloth-”
“Woah woah woah, pretty girl, breath.” He pushed and you took a sharp breath. No one but Sirius had ever called you that, and certainly not in that tone. He lifted his arm and you got a good view of his bare forearm from where his sleeve was rolled up, showing off a tattoo, a snake wrapped around a magpie, you think. He smiled at how you took it in. “Did it myself.”
Your eyes widened and looked at him in shock. He seemed giddy with excitement at your interests. “That and this,” He mused and stuck out his tongue, using his middle fingers to press it flat against his lip. Showing off his tongue piercing and his black nails. Your eyebrows shot up to your hair line.
Him and Sirius were scarily alike. It was almost comforting.
“Woah…” You mumbled and he laughed. Smiling ear to ear.
“Look here, kid.”
“I'm your age-”
“Shhh, I'm spitting wisdom.”
You couldn't help but laugh and relax fully as his fingers lined the pages of one of your books. “The reason they are so different is the one thing Professor Slug on my Horn doesn't tell you,” You laughed a bit in surprise at the vulgar nickname, “Is the potions you study under him have several different ways to make it. Salamander blood being the one taught in class.”
You looked back at the books and tilted your head a bit. “Why wouldn't they tell you that?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. I don't even use those recipes, I made my own.”
You looked over at him in shock and he just smiled at you.
You knew Crouch was a genius, he made sure everyone knew. But to have your own concoction for the potion you couldn't figure out how to brew according to instructions? You were baffled.
“Really?”
He nodded and you furrowed your brow. “Why Wiggenweld?”
His lip twitched and you could see as the smile left his eyes but not his lips, slowly biting his cheek. “I'm prone to.. accidents.”
“Your fights.” You whispered and he shrugged.
“Those too.”
“Typical Crouch behavior.” You murmured, a hint of amusement creeping into your voice. Talking to him was feeling more natural by the second. “Always getting into trouble.”
He grinned at that, leaning back in his chair with a casual confidence that was slightly charming. He had a way about it, how his sleeves were rolled up and his tie was loose. Robe discarded and undeniably handsome- “What can I say? It’s a talent of mine.”
You couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling more at ease as you continued to chat. The tension from earlier with your potions exam began to fade, replaced by a curiosity of learning who this Barty boy really was. It was a strange feeling, considering the reputation he had, but he seemed different here, away from the majority of the school, he was so gentle and sweet.
“So, what’s your recipe for Wiggenweld?” You asked, hopeful for a bit of help. You leaned in closer, the books between you momentarily forgotten.
“Alright, but you have to promise me something,” He whispered and leaned all that more closer, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You can’t tell anyone I’m teaching you this. It’s our secret.”
“Deal!” You nodded, your excitement bubbling over. You didn’t care about the implications of keeping secrets; you were just grateful for the distraction and the chance to understand potions from a different perspective. Definitely not to keep talking to him, not at all, he was just so damned sweet.
“Well, I use this version of it.” He gestured to your test, “But no Salamander blood. Just Horklump and Dittany.”
“What?” You whispered in shock and he sent you a playful wink.
“Trust me, yeah?” He gestured to the pages. “You just need to stew them for no longer than ten minutes. Stir it the first two- Potter?”
“Yeah?”
“You should be writing this down.” He teased and you quickly scrambled for your quill, cheeks flushed as he found you just staring.
You quickly scribbled down the details, heart racing as you focused on Barty’s instructions. The way he leaned in, so close that you could catch a whiff of his cologne, made it hard to concentrate. You tried to tune out the little voice in your head that reminded you of his reputation; all you wanted was to absorb the knowledge he was sharing. Nothing more.
“Okay, so after you’ve stewed the Horklump and Dittany, you need to add a pinch of powdered mint. It has to be powdered, if you add any fresh mint the juice will wind both of us in detention.” He continued, his voice low and steady, as if he were sharing a well-guarded secret. “But don't tell anyone that. It's just to get the color Slug likes so much.”
You couldn't help but smile at his goofy antics. “We?”
“Hm?”
“We'd end up in detention?”
He gave a chuckle. “Can't let you get in trouble for my secrets, can I? How could I live with myself?”
“What a gentleman.” You cooed and he gave a playfully solemn nod.
“Truly, I am.”
“I would totally let you take the fall for my antics.” You countered and he put a hand over his chest with a gasp. You giggled and he couldn't help but smile at your look.
“You're much prettier than your brother.” He hummed and you paused, turning to furrow your eyebrows at him with a bright smile. Clearly, he had no shame in what he said.
“Watch what you say, my brother may disagree with that.”
Barty smirked, clearly unfazed by the warning. He seemed so.. shameless. “Let him. I’ve dealt with worse than a jealous Potter before.” He leaned in a little closer, his tone playful, yet there was an undertone of seriousness in his eyes. “Besides, I would hate to disappoint him. But my type is more.. about your height, your hair color, your eyes. Have to say, the only thing wrong with you… your name.”
You felt your cheeks flush with warmth at his compliment, the boldness of his words making your heart race. Who was this guy? “Oh really? What’s wrong with my name?” You asked, trying to keep your tone teasing, but the stutter in your tone betrayed you.
“Potter is a lovely name.” He hummed, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. “But if you are looking to try out something different, I have some ideas.“
“Is this you flirting, Crouch?”
“Call me Barty. And if you have to question it I might just have to up my game.” He lit up like a child and your heart clenched hopelessly. He didn't even attempt to play coy with his new found attraction, you wondered hopelessly how many people had told this boy no. Certainly not enough.
Thank Merlin for that.
You couldn't help but laugh, trying to mask the fluttering in your chest. “Well, Barty, I don’t know if you’re just charming or if this is some elaborate scheme to distract me from my disastrous Potions exam.”
He leaned in closer, resting his chin in his hand, eyes focused solely on you. “Maybe it’s a bit of both.”
You rolled your eyes, fighting to suppress a smile. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re delightful,” He shot back without missing a beat. The intensity in his gaze made you feel a little dizzy, like you were the center of an exhilarating storm. Like you were worth all his attention.
You had only been speaking for an hour and it seems he made up his mind about you so quickly.
“Okay, Mr. Charming.” You said with a smirk, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “Let’s focus on Potions before you completely derail my study session.”
“Fine, fine.” He chuckled, leaning back into his chair but not breaking eye contact. “What's your next question?”
You spent the rest of the day with Barty, drilling on about the exam and your potion questions, falling into an easy and familiar rhythm. Eventually, even when your questions were answered and the library was empty, you two stayed. Even as it grew dark outside and the only lights came from the candles on the table. You two keep droning into easy conversation.
“You know.” Barty hummed. “This isn't the first time we've met.”
“Really?” You asked, your head in your arms as you leaned on the table over your books. He nodded. “Mhm. We met before, when we were younger. Before Hogwarts.”
“Before Hogwarts?” You echoed, trying to piece together the fragments of your memory. “I don’t remember meeting you before then. Are you sure?”
Barty chuckled, leaning back in his chair as he crossed his arms. “Oh, I’m sure. It was at Diagon Alley.”
Your eyebrows knitted together in concentration as you tried to recall any memory of him. “Diagon Alley? I don’t remember that at all.”
“Yeah, it was ages ago. You were with your family, and I was there with my mum.” He explained, with such a sweet smile that reached his eyes. “You had just gotten your first wand. You were so excited, waving it around like you were already a pro. I was upset because my magic hadn't come in yet but you and your brothers came around the same time.”
You felt a spark of recognition at his words, completely baffled he would remember something so utterly small and insignificant to him. “I do remember being really excited! I think I accidentally turned my brother’s hair blue for a week after that.”
Barty burst out laughing, the sound bright and infectious. “See? You were a little troublemaker even back then.”
“Hey, it was an accident!” You protested, laughing along with him. “I was just a kid.”
“Still, it’s good to know you’ve always had a flair for the dramatic.” He muttered and bit his cheek. Suddenly so.. thoughtful and distant.
“... how did you remember that? I hardly remember it and it was the day I got my wand.” You have a small nervous laugh.
“You really don't remember?” He laughed and you just furrowed your brow in confusion.
“Woah, I'm that forgettable?” He teased and laughed as your eyes widened in horror. “I'm only teasing.”
He rolled his jaw a bit and laid his head on the table to look you in the eyes. “I was throwing a fit, you know. I wanted a wand so badly. You walked past me on the street and you pointed your wand at me. You shouted; ‘tears be gone and magic be strong!’ And just toddled away after your mother.”
Your jaw dropped a bit before you slowly covered your face in embarrassment. Giving a low groan as you began to laugh. “I don't remember that. But that's what my mum always told us when we got hurt. Said our magic would heal our owies.”
He chuckled and nodded. “I stopped crying. When I got my magic the next year I was sure it was your doing. I'm not surprised you don't remember me.”
“It's not that you're forgettable-”
“Heavens no, not that. Just… you are always doing small things like that. You don't know how much it means to people.”
You flushed a bit at his statement and looked down, unable to keep his eyes anymore. “You're exaggerating.”
“I'm not. Everyone just adores you.” He mumbled and you shook your head.
“And everyone is scared of you.” You challenged. “Not everyone knows what they are talking about.”
“They are scared of me with good reason.” He corrected and you shook your head defiantly.
“You're not scary.”
“I can be.”
“I'll believe it when I see it.”
“I guess you'll never believe it then.”
You tilted your head a bit and looked up to meet his eyes. He was smiling so softly, so sweet, eyes gentle and almost suffocating. “I would rather die than scare you.”
You stared at him, a bit stunned. Struggling to catch yourself but all you could muster was. “You could never scare me.”
“Good.” He whispered in earnest with a nod of his head. “Good.” He smiled.
Before you both could continue talking, you heard the grand doors creek open, both of you looked up like deer in headlights. You saw Remus poke his head in and he smiled at you, before giving a grimace of a look at your company.
You stood up as you saw Remus leave, giving a low sigh. “Sorry, I kept you here so late.”
“Don't worry about that.” He muttered as he began to help you pack up. “I'll put your books away for you.”
You gave him a surprised look before you furrowed your brow. “Are you not heading out as well?”
“Not now. I have a few assignments to look over.” He mumbled and your eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Wha? Oh! Oh, Barty, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to distract you.” You whispered and he shook his head, chuckling.
“It's alright, you can make it up to me.” He muttered and you nodded vigorously. “Distract me again? Tomorrow? Same seat?”
You were stunned for a moment before you slowly smiled to match his. “Time?”
“I'll be here all day.”
“Understood.” You smiled and gave him a small wave. “Goodnight, Barty.”
“Goodnight, Star.”
When you made your way out of the library and noticed James, Lily, Remus, Peter, and Sirius. You tilted your head a bit curiously when you saw James with the map.
“What's this about?” You hummed and James pointed at you like an accusatory child.
“Nuh uh! You and Crouch? Gross! No!”
You furrowed your eyebrow in confusion and looked over to Sirius who was glaring at you. Peter looked nervous to meet your eyes.
“You upset your brothers.” Remus muttered to you and you tilted your head.
“It would seem so.” You mumbled back and Lily gave a little giggle. James didn't appreciate your mellow response.
“Bambi that boy is no good for my little sister.” James huffed and you could have sworn if you rolled your eyes any harder they would fall from your head.
“Oh Merlin, here we go.” Lily mumbled.
You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow at James, trying to keep your expression calm. “You mean the boy that helped me understand Potions better than I ever have? The same boy who’s been nothing but nice to me? You guys really need to relax.”
Sirius chimed in, his tone teasing but serious. “Nice? Junior? He's a walking red flag, love”
“And you’d know all about red flags, wouldn’t you, Sirius?” You shot back, a smirk creeping onto your face. You couldn’t help but needle him a bit, knowing full well his own history.
Lily laughed, trying to diffuse the tension. “Come on, you guys, let her have some fun! She’s old enough to make her own decisions.”
“Lily!” James huffed and gestured to you. “She's only 17.”
“18 in two months.” You put your hands on your hips as Remus smirked. “58 days.”
“Right on.” You mused and you and Remus shared a high five.
“Wha- I- no! No, I don't like it!” James whined like a child. “He's a Death Eater.”
That killed the fun chillingly fast. The hall was silent- in truth, no one knew anything about who was truly what. The only people you guys knew to be those monsters were the ones who claimed it. Like Mulciber, Avery, and even some of the other younger Slytherins.
The only evidence they would have to that would be the company Barty chose to keep.
“You watch your mouth.” You snapped quickly at James who looked a bit caught off guard that his usually sweet playful sister was so serious. Your blood was boiling with anxiety and inching for you to back down, you just wouldn't. To be in the middle of a war and to use that word so freely?
“You don't know what rumors like that can do to someone! And, I'll have you know, he is the sweetest boy I've ever talked to!” You snapped at him and his jaw dropped.
“Not you, Remus or Peter.” You reassured and they nodded in agreement.
“Not me.” Peter smiled at his friends and earned a smack from Sirius. Remus had the good sense not to say anything.
“You're such a git, James! And I won't be letting you continue to dictate my social life!” You snapped and the second Sirius opened his mouth you glared at him down. “You either greaser!”
Remus snickered and you shook your head. “I'm going to my dorm!”
Lily scurried up to follow you, giving the boys a playful ‘hmph!’ As she passed.
Remus was about to say something before Lily grabbed his arm and dragged him along. Leaving the three older Gryffindor's alone in the hall, baffled.
~~~
You stomped right up to your bed and slipped across it with a groan. Remus was next, mocking your childish stomps before he laid the proper way across your mattress, arms behind his head. You glared at him before Lily sat beside you and patted the side near her, coaxing you closer.
You sighed and sat up, wiggling closer.
“Baremius, huh?” She prodded and you nodded, leaning on your palms beside your knees. Her tone was always so soft and patient. She was always so… peaceful.
“It's not like that. But James- ugh! He just gets on my nerves.”
“Not like that?” Remus spoke up from behind you two. “He looked like he was about to kiss you.”
“I have that effect on people.” You cheeked, quickly trying to cover up your heating cheeks. “He was helping me with potions. Nothing more.”
“Well, that's good.” Lily muttered and you half glared at her.
“Good?”
“I can't believe I'm about to say this.” She muttered. “I agree with your brother on this one.”
You gawked at her before you looked at at Remus who suddenly looked nervous.
“And you?”
“In my defense, putting aside the rumors and.. his behaviors. He's a guy.” He shrugged and you gave a scandalized laugh.
“And you're not?”
“I'm a man.” He hummed and flexed playfully, showing off his arms and making you laugh, laying back and across his stomach. Lily rolled her eyes playfully and laid her head on his chest, looking at you with a soft smile.
“And in my defense, honey, I know him. He's friends with those horrid Slytherin boys and…” She looked away for a moment. “Snape. I know you can't judge someone on their friends alone but…”
“It says a lot.” You muttered and slowly hid your face in Remus’s stomach. He lifted his hand to ruffle your hair and you gave a loud and annoyed groan, looking back at Lily. “Do you really think-”
“I haven't seen any proof.” Lily quickly hushed you. “But just.. be careful, yeah? May want to keep him at arm's length.”
“...” You sighed and began to pick at the cables of Remus’s sweater, earning a smack from him. “I'll keep my distance.”
“That's our girl.” She smiled and leaned in to kiss your temple, making you laugh.
“You have to marry my brother now.” You insisted and Lily gave a snort.
“Oh, look at this.” Lily mused and reached behind her, the second you lifted your head she flung a pillow at your face, leaving you to fall against Remus’s stomach. He let out a sound that resembled a balloon deflating and it left you and Lily giggling like fools.
You stared up at the ceiling as Remus and Lily began to chat aimlessly. You began to pick at your nails and pause. You wondered if there was any truth to it, the rumors and his actions.
“I would rather die than scare you.”
His words replayed in your head over and over. What did he mean by that? Was it just you? Was his persona an act? What made you the exception?
The way his head tilted and his eyes looked into yours, it was something so genuine. Scarily affectionate. You wondered if it really was just that conversation. That day you met and that comment you made to him about magic.
Was he really not used to such simple compassions?
“Earth to bambi.” Lily called out and you looked over at her with a curious look. She smiled.
“So you won't get tangled up in him, yeah?” She prodded and you bit your cheek. You must have missed a lot.
“Yeah.. I'll be careful.” You muttered and she smiled.
“Good. I'm off to my patrols.” She hummed and sat up, grabbing her books and saying her goodbyes.
Remus looked down at you to see that distant stare again. Giving a weak chuckle and patting, giving a hum. “Wanna braid my hair?”
You sat up wordlessly and flopped on the pillow next to him. “Actually.. Can you read to me?”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want, bambi.” He mused and grabbed one of the books from your coffee table. Shifting up so you could lay your head on his chest, listening as he started the same book he's already ready you a million times.
~~~
You kept your promise and you avoided Barty. Everything went back to the status quo. At least for the first few weeks.
James had let it go a week or so later and Sirius was still weary of leaving you alone for too long. Ever since he started staying at your house in year five, he had become just as hovering and doting as your brother. But with Lily and Remus as reinforcements they never pushed it too far.
Then came the full moon. Remus would never allow you too far from the Gryffindor towers the nights leading up to it. No one, really.
He would sooner see you in detention then letting you out of the dorms and especially not near the dark forest the night of the full moon. However, even if you couldn't help the night of, the very next morning no one could stop you from rushing down to the shrieking shack with breakfast and water for the boys.
It was never anything complicated, just a few biscuits and water before you all were lugged back for classes. This morning was no different. As you walked with the boys out of the shrieking shack and towards the school.
The sun was shining bright, casting warm rays across the forest floor as you made your way back toward the castle. The air was crisp, fresh from the night’s chill, and you felt a sense of accomplishment in being there for your friends.
“Thanks for this, lil Potter.” Remus mumbled, his voice still a bit hoarse but warm with affection as he took a sip of water. He was leaning heavily on his crutch that he still tried to insist he didn't need. The other boys were busy sharing their own sleepy banter, but you just smiled. “Of course, Moony. I wish you'd let me help more. I feel like I've become an animagus for nothing. I can still taste the mandrake leaf, I'll have you know.”
“I told you he wouldn't let you help like, five times!” James shouted ahead as he slipped back on his shirt. Remus strayed behind in his slowed step. Sirius shook his head.
“If we had it our way, and you weren't so spoiled, you wouldn't be one at all.” He snarked in all his grumpy morning glory and you gave a sarcastic laugh.
“What got up your ass this morning? Hopefully not Remus in his state.”
Remus began to choke on the water you had given them and Sirius gawked at you. James let out a laugh so loud it startled a few birds from the trees.
Remus rolled his neck before he nudged you a bit and gave a low groan. “It will keep you safe. Just in case… you know, anything happens.”
“Nothing will happen.” You assured and he shrugged, always ready to believe he could hurt you guys at any second.
“You never know.”
“You'd never hurt me, Remus.” You whispered and locked your arm with his. He shook his head.
“Moony would.” He challenged and you shook your head back at him.
“No, I mean, you wouldn't be able to. I am simply getting that good at self defense magic, didn't you hear our new professor? Could wipe the floor with em.” You cheeked and Remus gave you the most sour look you had ever seen, making you giggle.
“Can I?” Peter whispered from beside you and you handed him your water easily, giving a laugh when he threw it back and chucked the damn thing.
“Thirsty?”
“We shouldn't have drank.” He muttered and your jaw dropped.
“You four drank? That has to be illegal. More- more so illegal than whatever we have been doing so far.” You scolded and Remus just gave you a cheeky smile. You rolled your eyes, looking off into the forest with a playful huff. Only for you to pause when you saw some bit of blue behind you guys.
You began to slow down more, furrowing your brow at the figure you swear you saw, just following you guys. Your arm untangled from Remus’s and he paused, looking back at you. Then, you saw cigarette smoke. You trailed back a bit more before you turned sharply.
“I think I dropped something! I'll catch up!” You called back before you hurried down the trail. Looking along the tree line. Only then did you spot exactly who you thought you saw.
Barty looked at you with wide eyes, from the thicket of the trees. You two locked in a staring contest for a few moments before you heard Peter’s voice call out to you.
“You okay, Bambi?” He shouted and you quickly ran into the proper tree line. Grabbing Barty by his lapels and pushing his back against the nearest tree. He gave a small ‘oof’ as you took the cigarette from his mouth and tossed it on the ground, stomping it out.
He didn't react much besides rolling his head in annoyance and looking up at the leaves above you as you attempted to hide him. “What are you doing here?” You whisper hissed, assuming the worst.
He sucked his teeth a bit before looking down at you with a quirked eyebrow, “Can't take a morning stroll?”
“Were you following me?” You asked incredulously, stepping back from him as he fixed his uniform. “Not.. initially.”
“Yo! Bambi, you alright?” Sirius called down and you pursed your lips, giving Barry a once over. He looked.. sad. Almost bored. Nothing like the playful boy in the library.
“Uhm… yes. Yes!” You shouted back. “Wardrobe malfunction! I have a spell for it, just run ahead!”
There was a long pause before Remus shouted back. “Alright!”
As you listened to the boy’s voices finally fade out into the background you slipped your hands in your robe pockets.
“Why are you out here?” You finally asked and he looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. He walked over to a well worn log and sat down. Looking back to the path one more time you finally sat by him, hugging your cold knees.
He took off his robe and threw it over your lap. Before you could protest he took a letter from his pocket and handed it over to you. Taking out a box of smokes and starting another one.
You looked over the letter carefully, the envelope was beige but it had a blue stamp. Carefully, you unfolded it.
Bartemius,
I find it utterly disheartening that I must waste my precious time addressing your incessant foolishness yet again. Your childish antics are a stain on our family name, and quite frankly, I am beyond exhausted by your inability to grasp the gravity of the situation. Another fight within a week? Pathetic.
How dare you presume to send a personal letter to my office as if your juvenile escapades warrant my attention? If I sought updates on your disgraceful behavior, I would have asked your mother- though I suspect she has long since learned to ignore your antics. It astounds me that you continue to associate with those beneath you, dragging my name through the mud and jeopardizing the reputation I have painstakingly built in the ministry.
Your conduct is an embarrassment, not just to yourself but to me and our entire lineage. I expect to see a marked improvement in your behavior, though I have little hope that you possess the maturity to effect any real change. If you cannot rise above your base instincts, you will remain nothing but a disappointment. Do not insult me further with your incompetence.
You felt your heart clench tighter with each line you read. It was like someone had cut out the devil's tongue and used his linguistics to verbally lash the pages, and the lack of warmth in the words left you feeling hollow. It was hard to reconcile the boy you’d just been speaking with- the charming, playful Barty- with the boy described in this letter.
Let alone a boy as sweet as Barty could be subject to this. Your thumbs began to crease the page the tighter you held it.
You knew you were lucky to have a father like yours. He would never speak down to you like this, he was the one who begged you to write. About anything and everything.
“I wanted him to know I got all O’s.” He muttered, gesturing to the letter. You looked over to him in surprise as he tightened his jaw but kept his expression unreadable. “Should of known it wouldn't have impressed him.”
“Barty…” You whispered, looking up at him with concern etched across your features. You felt your eyes begin to sting and your vision blur. He was staring off into the distance, tense as he took a deep drag of the cigarette. How could someone be so cruel to him?
You schooled your expression, giving a sniff or two as you used your sleeve to dry your tears. Then, your turned to face him fully, pressing the letter firm against your lap.
“You impressed me.” You declared in a stern tone. He furrowed his brow and looked at you curiously. You kept a straight face. “It's impressive, Barty. It's impressive and.. I'm impressed.”
He gave a weak, almost scandalized laugh before he bit his cheek, trying to hide a smile. “You are?”
“Mhm.” You nodded earnestly and he gave a low chuckle as you began to sniff again to try and keep your tears back.
“So.. is that why you'd been avoiding me?” He mused and your shoulders sank a bit. You have a deep sigh and hugged your knees. Burying your face in his robe still draped over your legs.
There was a moment of pause before you finally gave in. “You're not.. you're not a bad person. I don't think you are.” You whispered. “But my brother does. And his friends.”
“So what?” He asked softly, no malice in his tone just genuine curiosity.
You hesitated, the weight of your words hanging in the air. “So... I don’t want to get caught up in whatever is brewing around you. I know there's something. They care about me, and I care about them. I can’t just ignore it. And Lily she's...”
Barty’s expression shifted slightly, his brow furrowing as he considered your words. “You think I’m dangerous?”
“I think you have a reputation.” You countered, trying to keep your tone neutral even as your voice wavered. “And it’s not just who you hang around with. It’s the way people talk about you- like you’re some kind of monster. I've.. heard things. What you've done, I mean.”
He chuckled softly, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. “I suppose I’ve earned that.” He admitted. “But I’m not dangerous. Not to you.”
You felt a pang of something- so heavy and tight in your chest at the way he said it. There was an honesty in his voice that made you hesitate, and for a moment, you saw not just the boy with the reputation, but someone who seemed genuinely weary of the way others perceived him. No.
The way you perceived him. The hypothetical danger he posed to you. He was more concerned with how you felt about him then anyone else.
“Then why do you hang around with them?” You asked, trying to understand. “You could easily distance yourself from them, you know. They are.. they are monsters, you know what they did to Mary and Lily. They are important to me.”
Barty shrugged, a nonchalant gesture that didn’t quite match the tension in his expression. “They’re... my friends. They understand the game. It’s easier to be with those who don’t expect me to be anything other than what I am.”
“But that's not fair.” You huffed boldly. “That's not fair to me. I won't pick between anyone and my friends because my answer will be my friends.”
“Yeah..” Barty took another long drag of his cigarette. “Me too.”
The weight of his words hung in the air between you two, a heavy silence stretching out as you both considered the implications. You had to let yourself realize that with a father like his… his friends were truly all he had. You watched as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, the tendrils swirling in the sunlight filtering through the trees. His face was partially shadowed, but you could see the conflict in his eyes- caught between the reputation he had and the reputation his friends built.
“So, you’re saying that you’d rather be with them, even if it puts you in a bad light?” You asked, your brows furrowing in concern. “Is that really worth it?”
Barty leaned back against the tree, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Not all of us can be Sirius Black.” He chuckled dark and your lip twitched. “Not all of us have a Potter waiting to save us and I'm not leaving Regulus alone either.”
You furrowed your brow at him and he just shrugged. “Why didn't Regulus come along?” You whispered softly and he shook his head.
“Wrong question star. It's not my job to question him. I'm the one who's there for him.”
You stared at him for a moment longer and Barty met your eyes. It was like a stalemate for a good few minutes.
At that moment, you wondered if the houses were truly picked properly. Because you had never known anyone braver and more loyal than Bartemius Crouch Junior. You gave a low sigh and then smiled at him. He slowly returned it and your smile only widened.
Giving a small giggle he tossed his finished cigarette and held his hand out to you. You took it and he pulled you up, tossing his robe over his arm.
“You should run off now, yeah? Before your brother finds me defacing his sister's reputation.”
You shook your head with a bitter laugh. Taking a moment to appreciate him up close. Eventually, you gave in, getting on your toes and giving him a small kiss on the cheek. One that seemed to stun him.
“You really are remarkable, Barty.” You whispered and he couldn't hide his goofy and bright smile from you.
“And you, Star Potter, are a beautiful experience, everytime.” He said, his voice low and earnest, a spark of genuine warmth in his gaze. You felt your heart flutter at his compliment, and for a moment, it was as if the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in this small pocket of time.
“Now, run along.” He whispered, his tone teasing as he stepped back, the playful glint returning to his eyes. “Don’t let them catch you talking to me, or they’ll think I’m corrupting you.”
You laughed, shaking your head as you turned to walk back toward the castle. “You wish you were that lucky!” You called over your shoulder, feeling lighter than you had in days.
He watched you go with a small sigh. Shamelessly he put the robe to his face he could smell the faintest linger of your perfume. His eyes closing tight, as the scent reminded him you were real.
“Merlin, I really do.”
~~~
Sneaking around was your brother’s bread and butter, not yours.
But you found it harder and harder to really stay away from Barty. His persistence didn't help.
Small things started happening. Like chocolates began to appear in your books, flowers showing up on your desk, and other small things that were undeniably Barty. You couldn't get away from him. Whether it was the shared glances or the way he looked at you with an intensity that made your heart race, it was undeniable how much you were starting to fall for him.
You’d see him in the halls between classes, his eyes catching yours briefly before he flashed that charming smile. Sometimes he’d join you at the library, his presence both comforting and slightly thrilling. Each time felt like a secret shared in the quiet corners of Hogwarts, a world apart from the repetitive life of your friends. Not that you didn't love them- you adored them.
But the attention was nice.
“I got an Outstanding!” Lily sang as she held up her test, smiling ear to ear. James gave a wolf whistle to make Lily laugh, earning a shove for it.
Sirius looked at his parchment and gave a low whistle before carefully setting it back down, making the group laugh.
“That bad?” You cooed and Sirius smirked at you.
“Yeah? And what did you get, bambi?”
You bit your cheek and looked down at your parchment. Slowly turning it over with one eye closed, only to give a delighted gasp. “Ha! Outstanding!”
You flashed the paper to the group and Remus gave a laugh, Sirius playfully glared at you and snatched the paper away from you. “Horseradish! You cheated.” He insisted and you laughed.
“I did not cheat!” You protested, trying to snatch your parchment back. “I just studied really hard!”
“Sure, sure,” Sirius said, grinning as he held it just out of your reach. “What’s your secret? Did you bribe Slughorn?”
“That didn't cross my mind, actually.” You cheeked, and Remus clicked his tongue with a playful shake of his head. “Disappointed.”
Sirius laughed, holding your parchment a little higher. “You could have had him eating out of your hand with some chocolate frogs, you know.”
“Next time, I’ll be sure to bring him a whole box.” You shot back with a grin, finally managing to snatch your parchment back.
“Look at my little sister!” James piped up, pinching your cheeks. “I knew you had brains in there somewhere!”
“Sod off!” You huffed and he just laughed, letting you go.
You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but smile at the actual cause of the O. As your brother and everyone began to get back to their idle chatter, you looked across the hall to the RavenClaw table, but you didn't see him. As your eyes drifted across the hall to the Slytherin table, you found your eyes trapped by a pair of stormy gray ones. Regulus Black simply nodded to you and looked down.
You wondered if he knew.
You pouted a bit before you looked back to the group. “I think I'll spend my free period at the library.”
“Awe, booo.” Peter called across the table.
“Come on, Bambi, don’t be a hermit!” James chimed in, trying to coax you back into the conversation. “You just got an Outstanding! Celebrate a little, you'll turn into my Evans!”
Lily gave a scoff.
“Yeah, you deserve a break.” Sirius added, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated sigh. “How about we all go to Hogsmeade this weekend? A little fun to reward your hard work?”
You hesitated, torn between the prospect of hanging out with your friends and the nagging feeling that you wanted to see Barty again. “I would like to. But I really should review.”
“Come on, bambi!” Sirius pleaded, leaning forward with that infamous grin of his. “You can study later! Hogsmeade is a perfect way to unwind. Plus, we’re all going together. It’ll be fun!”
You bit your lip, glancing toward the Ravenclaw table again, half-hoping to see Barty’s unmistakable figure. He still wasn’t there. “I really should-”
“Should what?” James interjected, crossing his arms in an exaggerated manner. “Your grades won’t crumble if you take one break. Besides, you’ve been studying like a madwoman. You deserve a little fun. We haven't really hung out since you started this new study obsession.”
“Yeah! What’s the point of getting good marks if you can’t enjoy yourself?” Sirius chimed in.
You sighed, biting your cheek. While you loved your friends and cherished the time spent with them, the thought of Barty lingered in your mind. “I just think I can study more effectively if I focus on Potions right now.”
“Come on’, you can’t keep avoiding social interactions forever!” Sirius exclaimed dramatically. “You’ll turn into a hermit! Just imagine it: ‘Bambi, the hermit of Hogwarts’- it has a nice ring to it, actually.” He mumbled.
You giggled despite yourself, but the thought of Barty won over. “Sorry boys.”
“I think it's a good idea.” Lily hummed and you felt a bit guilty. Giving a firm nod and gathering your things and hurrying out of the hall before they could continue to protest.
The soft breeze from outside pushed back your hair a bit as you walked. The smell of the great hall flickered out and was soon replaced by the not entirely pleasant dampness of the dungeons. You weren't walking down the halls for long before you were suddenly yanked into a broom closet so fast you squealed.
Quickly a hand came over your mouth and you- like a normal person would- freaked out. Slamming your head back into the unseen attacker’s face. You heard a groan as he let go and spun around, only to stare at Barty with wide eyes. His hand covering his bruising nose and smiling at you.
“You scared the daylights out of me!” You scolded quickly, pushing away your embarrassment and annoyance with him- especially since he got such a strong reaction out of you. He just smiled and chuckled at you.
“Sorry, sorry.” He muttered. He had such a pretty smile, even when he was being an absolute moron. Oh, you owe Lily so many apologies. His hands slipped into his pockets as his shaggy hair fell a bit over his face.
“Just had to see you.” He whispered and you nodded.
“There are better what's to get a girl’s attention.” You muttered and he couldn't stop smiling at you. “Does it still hurt?”
You muttered softly and he nodded, leaning down a bit to your height. You smirked and raised your finger as if it was your wand. “‘tears be gone and magic be strong.” You whispered and he gave a low hum.
“You know…”
“Hm?”
“I'm not a kid anymore.” He chuckled and you flushed a bit, rolling your eyes.
“You could've had me fooled. What do you want me to do? Don't pull girls into a closet- no, don't pull anyone into broom closets.” You scolded and he just laughed, again, the most beautiful sound you'd heard all day.
“How about you kiss it better?” He pushed and you gave a snort.
“So you are a kid?”
“Come on.” He whined and gave you his best puppy dog eyes. “You hurt me, star.”
You held back a laugh, though the urge to playfully shove him away was strong. Instead, you gently cupped his face, watching his expression soften as you leaned in, pressing a quick, light kiss to his nose.
He closed his eyes, humming contentedly at the contact. “Again.” He murmured, barely opening his eyes.
“Needy.” You teased, but obliged, giving him another small kiss. He muttered the same request, and you rolled your eyes, leaning in to pepper his nose with a flurry of quick kisses, each one lighter and faster than the last.
But then, just as your last kiss hovered, he lifted his chin, guiding your lips to his. You gasped softly at the unexpected move, but he only pulled you closer, hands shifting from your hips to your waist, deepening the kiss. You couldn’t help but smile against his mouth, warmth flooding through you as you melted into him.
“Cheeky.” You murmured against his lips.
You felt the gentle rumble of his laughter as he held you tighter, closing every bit of space between you until it felt like you’d always belonged there, tangled in his arms, with nothing left between you but the sound of his heart beating against yours.
“Congratulations on potions.” He mumbled and he stepped a bit closer to you. Leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple.
You giggled and slipped your hands up his arms, grabbing his biceps and your laughter getting louder as his kisses became a bit more sloppy and messy. From your temple to your cheek to your neck. Devolving you both into laughter and loving kisses.
“Barty?” You whispered and he kissed from where his lips we pressed to your ear.
“Mhm?”
“You should kiss my lips again.”
He paused and slowly his lips curled up into a smirk against your neck. “Anything you want, star.”
He slowly kissed a trail up your neck, to your chin, to you cheek. You were growing a bit impatient, but you couldn't bring yourself to be mad about it. It was slow and sweet. The opposite of him.
The anticipation built with each gentle kiss, and when Barty finally pressed his lips to yours, nothing else mattered. The kiss was everything you hoped it would be; soft, warm, and filled with all the excitement from the sneaking around you had been doing.
You both pulled back slightly, your foreheads resting against each other as you shared a quiet moment, the sound of your mingled laughter still lingering in the air. He was warm, he always was. Just quiet and content. "I've been wanting to do that for a while.” Barty admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his confession. "Me too."
After a moment of pause, Bart slipped his hands out of his pockets and around your waist. You slowly opened your eyes to see he was staring at you so obviously. So much affection and.. pain in his eyes. Carefully your reached up from his shoulders to tangle in his hair.
“Baby.” You cooed, watching as the black pupils of his eyes grew twice their size.
“I love when you call me that.” He whispered and kissed you again. This time, with a bit more hunger for it.
The intensity of the kiss took you by surprise, yet it felt natural, as if this was where you were always meant to be. Barty's arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, as if trying to erase any lingering distance between you. The world outside the broom closet faded away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect, private moment. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that mirrored the emotions you'd both been holding back for so long.
When you finally broke apart, both of you slightly breathless, Barty rested his forehead against yours again. "I need to know.” He whispered. “You're my girl, yeah?”
“Yours.” You confirmed without hesitation. “Your girl.”
Barty's eyes softened, and a relieved smile spread across his face, as if the weight of uncertainty had been lifted. You hadn't realized that for these past few weeks, despite all the flirting and stray touches, the meetings and secret rendezvous you'd never confirmed what felt so obvious to you.
"Good.” He murmured, brushing his thumb gently across your cheek. "Good.”
The two of you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, savoring the stillness and the shared understanding that had only deepened. It was rare to find moments like these at Hogwarts, where every day was bustling with activity and noise, but here, in the quiet confines of the broom closet, you had carved out your own little haven.
"We should probably get back before they start wondering where we are.” You whispered reluctantly, knowing that duty and friendships couldn't be ignored forever. If Remus or anyone went looking in the library for you it was over, Merlin if they pulled out that map they loved to use on you so much you were done for.
Barty nodded, though he made no move to let you go just yet. "I suppose. But we’ll have more time together soon, right?"
"Definitely.” You assured him, smiling as you reluctantly stepped back, already anticipating the next secret meeting, the next shared glance across the crowded halls.
As you both emerged from the broom closet, the world seemed a little brighter, the halls a little more welcoming. And as you parted ways with a lingering look, you knew this was just the beginning of something wonderful.
~~~
You never thought Barty was capable of restraint- his affections for you were never a secret. He had been bold from the start, confessing his feelings on your first meeting as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You assumed he couldn’t hold back if he tried. But the truth was, you had underestimated him completely.
You were a Potter, you were no stranger to a love that burrowed into your heart like a bug. James was a prime example, but he had nothing on your father. You knew love like you knew the sunrise, Potters were love. That still didn't prepare you for the love of Barty Crouch Junior.
The moment you became ‘Barty’s girl,’ subtle gestures turned into grand, unrelenting declarations. Flowers appeared on your bedside in ornate bouquets, chocolates transformed into extravagant assortments, and he began slipping you old notes from his classes, annotated with messages he thought you’d enjoy. Sometimes, you’d find an anonymous love letter tucked between the pages of your books, though you always recognized his handwriting. It was a whirlwind of adoration that grew so excessive even your friends couldn’t ignore it.
The rumor spread quickly: you had a secret admirer. A very devoted one.
What started as stolen glances in the hallways and whispered words in broom closets evolved into something deeper. He became a constant, pulling you into hidden spaces where he’d kiss you like you were the only real thing in his world. His kisses were desperate, his hands always seeking some part of you to hold, as if he feared you might slip through his fingers.
Your world shrank to accommodate him. It was thrilling, yes, but also overwhelming. Each secret meeting was marked by a mix of exhilaration and dread that only lended to thrive in you, every touch, every breathless encounter behind closed doors, reminded you how deeply tangled you were becoming in each other. It was intoxicating and dangerous, like standing too close to a fire.
When he looked at you, it was like he was trying to memorize your every detail, like you were his only source of light.
“You don’t know what you do to me,” He murmured one night, his voice rough as he pressed his forehead against yours. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing the curve of your jaw as his eyes searched yours with raw intensity. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I’d burn the whole world down if it meant keeping you.”
You shivered, his words igniting a heat in your chest. “Barty…”
His lips crashed against yours, swallowing the rest of your words. The kiss was frantic, a collision of need and longing, his fingers threading through your hair as he pulled you closer, like he couldn’t get enough of you. Your knees buckled slightly, but his arm wrapped around your waist, steadying you, grounding you.
“You’re mine,” He whispered against your lips, his voice low and fervent. “Say it.”
“I’m yours.” You breathed, the words spilling out before you could stop them. And it was true- somehow, he’d claimed parts of you you didn’t even know existed. You couldn't even fathom were your breath started and his ended.
He sought you out in the quiet moments, trailing his fingertips down your arm when no one was looking, writing your name in the margins of his notes when he thought you wouldn’t see. You began to realize that to him, you weren’t just a girl he fancied; you were his anchor, his sanctuary in a world that seemed determined to tear him apart. He was becoming yours too.
Your eyes searched for him in every room. The way he flashed you that sickeningly slick smirk when he caught you staring. How he would follow you out of any room you happened to share, just to steal you away from whatever task he deemed not more important then his time with you. Shushing you in empty corridors as his hands found a spot just above your skirt. Ruffling your tie in slight frustration and marking skin no one would see but him. All while looking at you like you were his last salvation.
~~~
The fire crackled in the hearth as you sat cross-legged on your bed, your Transfiguration book open in front of you. Lily sat at your desk, rifling through her notes, while Remus lounged on your bed, one arm thrown casually over the back of a pillow. The three of you had settled in for a relaxed study session, but conversation had drifted away from studies.
"So, are we ever going to find out who it is that's got you all flustered lately?" Remus asked with a teasing grin, nudging your ankle with his foot. Lily looked up from her notes, her eyebrows raising with interest.
"Oh, Remus, give her a break," Lily sighed with a small smile, though you could see the curiosity twinkling in her green eyes. "She’ll tell us when she’s ready."
You felt warmth rise to your cheeks, and you gave Remus a playful kick back. "You’re both ridiculous," you said, trying to keep your tone light. "There’s no one."
Remus rolled his eyes, his smile widening. "Sure, and I'm the Minister of Magic."
You shook your head, flipping open your Transfiguration book to avoid his gaze. "Fascinating. The Minister and all- and you can't even tell me which wand motion is the proper technique to transfigure my desk. Study don't pry into my very uninteresting love life."
"Uninteresting, huh?" Lily asked, her voice laced with skepticism. "I don’t know, those flowers you’ve been getting seem pretty interesting to me."
You opened your mouth to retort when something caught your eye; a folded piece of parchment, carefully tucked between the pages of your book. You furrowed your brow as you pulled it out, unfolding it to see the familiar slanted handwriting of Barty.
Meet me in my dorm. I’ve got something to show you.
Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly folded the note, trying to suppress the smile threatening to spread across your face. You slipped the parchment under your pillow, feeling both Remus’ and Lily’s eyes on you.
"What’s that?" Remus asked, his smirk only growing.
"Nothing," you said quickly, giving them both a bright smile. "Just a reminder for myself."
Lily narrowed her eyes playfully, clearly not buying it, but she didn’t push. "Alright, fine," she said, glancing at the clock on your bedside table. "But I think I should be getting back to my own dorm soon. I promised James I'd meet him."
You nodded, swinging your legs off the bed. "Yeah, I should… um, I’ll be back in a bit."
Remus gave you a knowing look but didn’t say anything as you grabbed your robe and made your way towards the door, feeling the folded note burning against your skin. You slipped out of the room, trying to keep your excitement in check as you made your way through the castle.
Not long after you left, James appeared in the doorway, his hair as untidy as ever and a bright smile lighting up his face. "There you are, Evans," he said, striding into the room without knocking. "Ready to go?"
Lily stood, gathering her notes, but before she could respond, James’ eyes flickered to your bed, where the edge of the note you’d tucked under your pillow peeked out. His eyes narrowed slightly, and with the mischievous curiosity that had always been a part of him, he reached over and pulled it out.
"What’s this, then?" James asked, more to himself than anyone else.
Lily turned, her eyes widening as she caught sight of the note. "James, put that back. It's not yours."
But James had already unfolded it, his eyes scanning the words. His playful smile faltered slightly, his brow furrowing as he read the message. “... she's meeting someone. At night.”
Remus wasn't proud of himself, but he felt his body jolt forward at the idea. His brow furrowing as he looked at the handwriting.
“Surely not.” Lily muttered skeptical, walking closer and pouting. “James, whose handwriting is that?”
“Don't know.” He mumbled before he glanced at Remus who grimaced a bit. “I know how to find out.”
~~~
The sun had long since set, plunging the room into shadow. The lone candle on the nightstand burned low, its golden light flickering uncertainly across the walls, casting fleeting glimpses of the intimacy shared within. You lay beside Barty on his narrow bed, his body curled protectively around yours. His hand cradled your cheek, thumb tracing gentle lines as if memorizing your face. His other hand gripped your waist, not possessively but securely, as though grounding himself in the reality of your presence.
His green eyes, bright and intent, held yours with a tenderness so consuming it made your chest ache. The world outside seemed to vanish in this space- no war, no sides, no betrayals. Just the boy you loved, smiling softly at you like you were the only thing keeping him alive.
"What are you smiling about?" You teased, brushing your nose against his, your fingers weaving through the hair at the nape of his neck. He sighed at the touch, his eyes fluttering closed briefly before fixing on you again, filled with the kind of raw vulnerability he showed to no one else.
This was your Barty. The boy who could switch so drastically between needing every bit of your skin against his own, and loving you like you were a fragile truth.
"Just you." He murmured, his voice thick with affection, his smile deepening. "Thinking about how breath taking you look right now.."
Your heart swelled at his words, at the way he looked at you as if you were his last breath. You pressed your lips to his, slow and soft, letting the warmth of his embrace spread through you. His arms tightened around you, his desperation seeping through the way he held you close, as though he feared you might disappear.
But even in this fragile moment, reality intruded. Your lips trailed down his jaw, leaving a line of soft kisses along his neck. As your hand slipped beneath the sleeve of his shirt, your fingers brushed against something rough, foreign. You froze, your heart stuttering as your fingertips traced the unfamiliar texture.
"Barty, what’s this?" You asked, pulling back slightly, your brow furrowing as dread began to creep into your chest. “Did you get a new tattoo?”
His entire body went rigid. His eyes snapped open, the warmth in them replaced by something colder, darker. His hand shot to your wrist, gripping it with startling intensity, though his touch remained gentle. “It’s nothing.” He said- no, demanded quickly, but his voice cracked, and his gaze flickered away. The tension in his jaw, the way he avoided your eyes. It betrayed him.
He couldn't hide from you. Not after he'd given you every way to see him.
"Barty.” You pressed, your voice trembling now. "Show me."
For a long moment, he didn’t move, his jaw clenched so tightly you could see the faint twitch of muscle. His eyes darted to yours, filled with a fear so raw it sent a chill through you. Slowly, with trembling hands, he rolled up his sleeve.
The world seemed to stop.
Etched into his pale skin, dark and stark against the flickering candlelight, was the unmistakable mark of the Death Eaters. Your breath hitched, the air in the room turning ice cold as you stared at the symbol that now defined him. The room, once warm and safe, felt suffocating, as though the walls were closing in around you.
"No.” You whispered, shaking your head, your voice breaking as tears stung your eyes. "No, Barty, tell me this isn’t real. Tell me it’s a joke. Please."
He reached for you, his expression desperate, pleading. "It’s not what you think.” He whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his own guilt. "Please, just listen- fuck, let me explain."
"Explain?" You choked, the word a bitter laugh as you scrambled to sit up, the sheets tangling around your legs. “You’re one of them, Barty. A Death Eater. The people who are trying to kill my brother, who would destroy Lily, who hate everything I stand for. How could you? How could you do this?”
He flinched as if you’d struck him, his hands trembling as he reached for you again. “I did it for them,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “For Regulus. For Evan. They needed me- I had to protect them.”
Your laughter came out hollow, bitter. “Protect them? What about me, Barty? What about us? Did you think of me when you let that thing be branded onto your skin? Did you think about what it would mean? About the promises we made?”
“I love you.” He pleaded, his voice breaking on the words. His eyes, wide and glistening with unshed tears, bore into yours, his desperation bleeding through every syllable. “I love you more than anything in this world. I did this for us; for you. I thought I could keep you safe.”
You shook your head, your chest tight, every word he spoke only twisting the knife in your heart. “Safe? You think this is keeping me safe? Barty, you’ve tied yourself to the very people who want to destroy me, my family, my friends. Dorcas got out. She didn’t need to join them. She did it for Marlene! You had a choice, Barty. You could have chosen me.”
“Don’t do this.” He begged, his voice trembling as he sank to his knees in front of you, his hands clutching at yours. “Please, don’t leave me. I can’t lose you. I can’t- I won’t survive it. You’re all I have.”
His raw vulnerability shattered something in you, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing anchoring him to humanity. But even that couldn’t change the mark on his arm, the choices he had made. You tore your hands from his grasp, stepping back as tears streamed down your face.
“I can’t do this.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to hold yourself together. “I can’t be with someone who’s made that choice. Picking that side. Not when it means standing against everything I believe in. I love you, Barty, but this…” Your voice broke. “This isn’t love. Not when it costs so much.”
His face crumpled, his body trembling as he clung to the edge of the bed like it was the only thing holding him up. “You are my side,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re everything to me. Without you, I’m nothing. Darling, please. You have to trust me.”
Your heart shattered at his words, but you couldn’t stay. You couldn’t let your love for him blind you to the truth of what he had become. Turning away, you moved toward the door, each step feeling like a physical wound.
“Please.” He whispered one last time, his voice so broken it nearly stopped you in your tracks. “Please don’t leave me. I’ll fix it. I'll fix us, darling, my love.”
You hesitated, your hand on the doorknob, tears blurring your vision. “I’m sorry, Barty,” you whispered, your voice trembling with grief. “But you’ve chosen a side. And it isn’t mine.”
With that, you stepped out of the room, the soft click of the door behind you sealing the final break between you. Each step down the hallway felt like walking through fire, the ache in your chest consuming you. You pressed a hand to your mouth to stifle a sob, the image of him- broken, desperate, lost- burned into your mind.
But you kept walking, because if you turned back, you knew you’d never leave. And that was the one thing you couldn’t allow.
Not when his love came with a price you could no longer bear to pay.
~~~
It was well past curfew when you stumbled back into the dormitory, your body heavy with exhaustion and your heart feeling as though it had been shattered into pieces too small to ever put back together. Every step echoed hollowly in the silent hallways, the sound swallowed by the crushing weight in your chest. You didn’t care about the risk of being caught; the only thing propelling you forward was the desperate need to collapse, to sink into the safety of your bed where the world couldn’t reach you.
But the sight that greeted you when you pushed open the door wasn’t the solitude you craved.
James stood with the Marauder's Map clutched tightly in his hand, his face flushed with a mix of anger and worry that twisted painfully at the sight of you. Sirius paced like a caged animal, his jaw tight, his dark eyes alight with barely restrained frustration. Remus sat perched on the edge of your bed, his brow furrowed with concern, while Lily lingered by the desk, her green eyes soft and filled with sympathy. Peter, as always, quiet. Hovering in the background.
"There you are!" James's voice rang out, sharp and filled with barely contained emotion. The sound made you flinch, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. He crossed the space between you in two quick strides, holding up the map like a damning piece of evidence. “You want to tell me what the hell you were doing in the Ravenclaw dorms? Or should I save you the trouble? I know who you were with.”
The accusation in his voice hit like a physical blow. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. The fight you would usually summon to deflect his concern- the sarcasm or sharp retorts; was gone. It had crumbled under the weight of the truth you could no longer avoid. Your shoulders slumped, the tears you had tried so desperately to hold back beginning to blur your vision.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you, James.” You muttered, though your voice was a faint shadow of its usual strength. It trembled, hollow and lifeless, like it no longer belonged to you.
James scoffed, his frustration boiling over. "Don’t have to explain? You’ve been sneaking around with him! Don’t you see what he is?” His voice cracked, the anger giving way to something far more fragile. "He’s one of them, isn’t he? A bloody Death Eater.”
His words were a knife twisting in your chest. You closed your eyes, letting out a shaky breath, your body trembling under the weight of his accusation. But you didn’t deny it. You couldn’t. Because James was right. He had been right all along.
"Say something!" Sirius’s voice cut through the silence, raw and desperate. He stepped closer, his fists clenched tightly at his sides, his pacing halted by his need for answers. His sharp gaze burned into you, searching for some explanation, some reassurance that you hadn’t fallen so deeply into something so dangerous. He couldn't bare to see you follow, not after losing Regulus to it. “Anything.”
Your lips parted, but the words caught in your throat. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you whispered, “You were right.” The words came out broken, each one heavier than the last. “You were both right… about everything.”
The room fell into stunned silence, the weight of your admission pressing down on everyone. James’s expression crumbled, his anger dissolving into a mix of heartbreak and understanding. He moved toward you, his voice soft and filled with pain. “Oh, sweetheart…” He murmured, reaching for you.
That was all it took. The dam inside you broke, and a sob tore its way out of your chest. James pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as your knees buckled beneath you. You clung to him, your sobs muffled against his robes, your whole body trembling.
“I thought he loved me.” You choked out, the words spilling from your lips in between gasps for breath. “I thought- he said he loved me. But he lied. He lied to me.”
James’s arms tightened around you, his own tears slipping silently down his face. “I know,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I know, Bambi. I’m so sorry.”
Sirius stepped forward then, his anger replaced by an aching sadness. His hand rested on your back, tentative at first, before he let out a shaky breath. “We were only trying to protect you,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “We didn’t want this for you. We didn’t want you to get hurt.”
Lily knelt beside you, her warm hand brushing against your arm as she looked up at you, her eyes filled with sympathy. “We’re here now,” she said gently. “You don’t have to go through this alone. We’ve got you.”
You turned to her, your tear-streaked face trembling as you met her gaze. “I don’t know what to do now,” you admitted, your voice small and broken.
Remus, silent until now, stepped closer and placed a hand on your shoulder. His touch was steady, grounding. “You take it one step at a time,” he said softly, his calm voice a lifeline. “Just breathe for me. Ten in, ten out. We’ll figure it out together.”
You nodded, trying to follow his guidance, your breaths still shaky but slowing little by little. The sobs subsided, leaving you with a hollow ache in your chest that felt impossibly heavy.
“Come on.” He whispered, his voice filled with a protective warmth. “Let’s get you into bed. You don’t have to think about anything else tonight.”
You nodded with a distant look, letting him coax you into your bed. You felt like a child.
“Jamie, let's head back to the dorms, yeah?” Lily said quietly, her eyes flicking to James, who stood near the foot of your bed, still looking worried.
“But..” James started, staring at your slightly trembling form, reluctant to leave you like this. He wanted to protect you, to make sure you were okay, but the look Remus gave him was enough to hold him back. Remus’s gaze was gentle but resolute, silently reassuring James that he would be here, that he’d stay by your side tonight.
James sighed, his reluctance clear, but he finally nodded. He glanced at Sirius, then back to Remus, letting out a slow breath. “Right. Let’s let her rest then?”
“Yeah,” Lily whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the back of your head. She lingered for a moment, her hand still gently stroking your hair. “We’ll be back in the morning.”
Sirius looked like he was about to protest, his expression torn between wanting to stay and knowing he had to let you rest. But Remus quietly reached for the familiar book on your nightstand. He shuffled slightly, getting comfortable next to you. Remus turned his head to look at Sirius, offering a reassuring nod.
“I’ve got her,” he said softly, his voice calm and steady. It was enough to ease some of the tension in the room. Sirius hesitated for a moment longer, then gave a small, reluctant nod. He exchanged one last glance with James before following Lily towards the door.
James lingered just a heartbeat longer, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Get some sleep, alright?” He whispered, his voice filled with love and concern. “We’ll be here when you wake up.”
“Goodnight, Bambi.” Peter mumbled from the same spot he stood earlier, slowly shying behind James as he left. And with that, they left the room, the door closing softly behind them. The silence settled back over the room, and Remus turned towards you, his presence a gentle reminder that you weren’t alone. He carefully opened the book, his fingers brushing over the worn pages.
His voice, quiet and soothing, filled the room as he began to read, his words wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. You turned slightly, facing Remus, his voice becoming a soft rhythm that helped to steady your breaths, one at a time. His free hand rested near yours, close enough that if you wanted, you could reach for it. He didn’t push. He simply stayed, his calm presence anchoring you. Eventually, as his gentle voice lulled you, the weight on your chest seemed to lighten just a fraction, and you let your eyes drift shut. For the first time that night, you allowed yourself to let go, to let the exhaustion take over. The sound of Remus’s voice, the warmth of his presence, made it feel just a little bit more bearable.
~~~
You woke the next morning to soft murmurs drifting through your dormitory. The sunlight filtered through the curtains, painting the walls in a gentle glow. For a moment, the warmth tricked you into thinking everything was fine. But then the memories of the night before came flooding back. Barty’s betrayal, the heartbreak, the fight- and the ache in your chest returned with full force.
You forced yourself to sit up, rubbing at your stinging eyes. Across the room, you saw Lily and Remus speaking quietly near the window. Lily noticed you first, her soft smile tinged with sadness. She crossed the room, settling beside you and placing a comforting hand on your arm.
“Morning.” She said gently, her voice careful, as though she were afraid you might shatter under the weight of it all. “How are you feeling?”
You swallowed, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “I don’t know,” Your voice was barely above a whisper. Your body felt heavy, like every muscle was pulling you back down into the mattress, but the weight wasn’t comforting- it was suffocating.
Remus moved closer, offering you a steaming cup of tea. “Take your time.” He mused, his gaze steady and kind. You accepted the cup with a small nod, letting the warmth seep into your hands even if it couldn’t reach your heart.
You hesitated before asking, “James?” The one person you were dreading facing.
Lily and Remus exchanged a glance. “He’s alright,” Lily said gently. “Probably caught up with Head Boy duties. He’s just worried about you.”
You nodded, guilt twisting in your chest. “I didn’t want to upset him…”
Lily squeezed your arm. “He loves you. He just needs time to process everything. He’ll come around.”
Remus gave you a soft smile. “How about some fresh air? It might help clear your head.”
Reluctantly, you agreed. Staying in bed wouldn’t make anything better, and maybe the cold air would numb more than just your fingers. You wrapped a robe around yourself and followed Remus and Lily out of the tower, their steady presence keeping you grounded as you moved through the quiet castle halls. Each step felt like a small victory against the chaos inside your heart.
Just as you began to feel the chill of the air prickling your skin, a familiar voice shouting down the hall made your blood run cold. The words were indistinct, but the rage behind them was unmistakable. Your heart leapt into your throat, and you quickened your pace, your pulse pounding.
When you turned the corner, the scene stopped you in your tracks. James had Barty pinned against the wall, his fist gripping the collar of Barty’s shirt. His face was twisted in fury, his voice shaking as he snarled at him. A small crowd of students had gathered, whispering and watching the spectacle unfold.
“You think you can just hurt her?” James spat, slamming Barty against the stone wall. “You think there wouldn’t be consequences?”
Barty didn’t fight back. He stood there, taking every shove, his face pale and hollow, but his eyes- his eyes betrayed him. They weren’t empty; they were frantic, burning with guilt, fear, and something that terrified you when they flicked to your own. He didn’t even seem to register James’s words. His entire focus was on you, standing frozen in the hallway.
Sirius leaned casually against the wall nearby, a cigarette dangling from his lips, though his sharp eyes were anything but relaxed. “Go on, Prongs,” he muttered, exhaling a plume of smoke. “Give him hell.”
Your voice cracked as you shoved through the onlookers. “James, stop!” You shouted, panic lacing your words. But James didn’t hear you, his rage blinding him as he shoved Barty again, his voice trembling with emotion.
“You don’t get to treat her like that, to use her, and walk away like nothing happened!” James’s fist cocked back, and you screamed again, louder this time. “James!”
Sirius turned, startled by the desperation in your voice. He immediately straightened, stepping toward James. “Mate,” Sirius hissed, grabbing James’s shoulder. “She’s here.”
James froze, his chest heaving as he turned to look at you. His face softened the instant he saw the tears streaking your cheeks, but the tension in his body didn’t fade entirely. He let go of Barty’s shirt with a sharp shove, his hands falling to his sides.
Barty stumbled back, his hand reaching up to rub his neck, but his eyes were locked on you. His voice was hoarse and trembling when he finally spoke. “Please…” His gaze was raw, desperate. “Please, just talk to me.”
You froze, the pain in his eyes tugging at something in your chest even as you recoiled from him. “I don’t want to-”
“She doesn’t need to,” Remus’s voice cut in, low but firm as he stepped in front of you. He placed a steady hand on your arm, keeping you rooted beside him. “That's all, Crouch.”
Barty flinched at the tone in Remus’s voice, but he didn’t look away from you. “I just need a moment,” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “Just one chance to explain- she has to know that I didn’t mean-”
“Bartemius.” Remus said sharply, though his tone never rose. His calmness was like a dam, holding back the chaos in the room. He stepped forward slightly, his hand still on your arm. “That's all.”
Barty’s shoulders sagged, his face crumpling as he looked at you one last time. “I love you.” He whispered, his voice so broken it sent a chill down your spine. “You have to know that.”
You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Remus gently tugged you closer to him, shielding you from Barty’s gaze. “Come on,” he murmured softly. “Let’s go.”
As Lily took your other side, guiding you down the hallway, you could feel Barty’s eyes following you, like he was clinging to the sight of you as his last lifeline. Behind you, Sirius muttered something sharp under his breath before stomping out his cigarette and following James, who stood frozen, his jaw tight as he stared after you.
You felt like a pathetic child. Being ushered around and babied, but you didn't fight it. You wanted this nightmare of a year to be over.
So when Regulus and Evan finally came, and the Black brothers shared some hateful words- and Lily dragged James away from the impending fight, you stayed hidden under Remus’s arm. The yelling and the arguments just sounded like buzzing in your ears. Leaving you to stare blankly off at the mess you had created. Watching as Evan took Barty away and Regulus glanced at you with an expression that flashed between sour, sympathetic, and careful. Turning on his heel to hurry after his friends. You wanted this year to end.
~~~
The rest of your sixth year at Hogwarts passed in a haze. After the confrontation between James and Barty, you felt like you were living in fragments- moments of warmth with your friends interrupted by long, suffocating stretches of numbness. James, Sirius, Remus, Lily, and Peter had rallied around you, protective and supportive, but the pain lingered. Barty’s betrayal, his mark, the weight of his choices. It all clung to you, no matter how hard you tried to shake it.
The school year ended with bittersweet farewells. James and everyone graduated, leaving behind an emptiness that Hogwarts couldn’t fill. On the train ride home, James gave you a fierce hug, his voice low but steady. “You’re going to be okay.” He whispered, as if saying it enough times would make it true. “We’ll all be okay.” His determination was a promise: he would fight, protect, and do whatever it took to keep you and the people he loved safe. It terrified how how devoted to the war he became, he hated to leave you at Hogwarts alone.
But the summer brought its own heartbreak. James and Lily joined the Order of the Phoenix, Sirius, Peter, and Remus close behind- throwing themselves into the war. The house was too quiet without James’s booming laugh or Sirius’s teasing remarks. Letters from James came sporadically, and the tension in his words bled through the parchment.
Then, not long after James and Lily’s wedding, your world shattered. Your parents got sick and you hardly left their bed side. They died days apart and you wondered if that's what it looks like; real love. Not able to be apart for even a week before returning to one another no matter what disaster they left behind. Though, you knew it wasn't true, just your own comfort. James, crushed under the weight of his grief, threw himself further into the Order. You rarely saw him. Remus kept you company as best he could, but even he had missions that pulled him away. Sirius made sure to remind you that James just wanted to protect what little family he had left, it killed you to not be there with them. The isolation was unbearable, every goodbye feeling like it could be the last. The ache of losing your family was only worsened by the fear that the rest of the people you loved would follow.
When you returned for your seventh year, Hogwarts felt hollow, almost unfamiliar without James, Sirius, or the others. But Dorcas Meadowes was there, refusing to leave you to fend for yourself. She became your constant companion, the person you leaned on most. The two of you forged a quiet understanding- she never pushed you to talk about Barty, and you never asked about the darkness she’d left behind. Dorcas was the girl who had escaped the worst parts of her legacy, a beacon of strength and resilience that kept you grounded.
Still, no matter how far you tried to distance yourself from Barty, he remained a presence in your life. Letters appeared on your bed, scribbled with frantic apologies. Flowers were left outside your dormitory door, wilting reminders of his desperation. He cornered you in empty corridors, his green eyes burning with longing as he begged you to listen.
“I love you,” He whispered one evening, his voice breaking as he blocked your path outside the library. “I’ve always loved you- since we were kids. You have to know that. What I did- it wasn’t about hurting you. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought…” He trailed off, his hands trembling at his sides. “I need you, star. I can’t do this without you.”
You clenched your fists, your chest tightening at the raw emotion in his voice. His words always left a mark, reopening wounds you were desperately trying to heal. “Barty.” You whispered quietly, your voice shaking. “You need to let me go. This… this isn’t love. Not when it hurts this much.”
He flinched as though you’d slapped him, his eyes filling with tears. “It is love,” He insisted, stepping closer. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ve never felt this before- it's terrifying. I haven't been in this much pain before. I’d give you anything- everything- if you just came back to me. Star I can't do this.”
You shook your head, your breath hitching. “That’s not what I want. I don't like feeling like this either, Barty. I wanted you, Barty. But you made your choice. Your cause- what they have done to my family alone-”
Despite your protests, the line between you blurred one night near the end of the school year. He found you in the Astronomy Tower, the only place you could escape responsibility. The sight of him made your heart ache. He looked so much like the boy you had fallen for; tousled hair, eyes filled with a longing so fierce it made your knees weak. And for a moment, you forgot yourself.
“I hate what I’ve done to you,” He confessed, stepping closer until there was barely any space between you. “I hate that I’ve hurt you. But I can’t stop loving you.”
The vulnerability in his voice cracked something inside you, and before you could stop yourself, your lips met his. The kiss was frantic, desperate. His hands cradled your face as though you were something sacred, something he couldn’t bear to lose. For a fleeting moment, you let yourself drown in him, in the memory of what you once had.
But as quickly as it began, reality crashed over you. You pulled away, your breathing uneven as tears blurred your vision. “We can’t.” You whispered, stepping back. “This isn’t right.”
Barty reached for you, his voice trembling. “Please, don’t do this. Don’t walk away again. I’ll change- I’ll leave everything behind if that’s what it takes. Just… don’t leave me.”
The sincerity in his words nearly broke you, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “If you loved me, you would’ve chosen me before it came to this,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. “But it’s too late, Barty. You can’t undo what’s been done. We both.. we both know if it came to me or Regulus- me or Evan.”
“That's not fair.” He croaked.
Your eyes flicked up to his as your tears rushed down your face. “It isn't.”
His shoulders slumped, the light in his eyes dimming as your words sank in. For the first time, he seemed to realize that no amount of pleading or promises would bring you back to him. “I’ll always love you.” whispered, his voice hollow.
You turned away, your heart shattering as you walked down the spiral staircase, leaving him alone in the tower. You didn’t look back. You couldn’t. You knew if you did, you’d lose your resolve.
When the train pulled into King’s Cross at the end of the year, you were greeted by the sight of your brother and his friends waiting for you. James’s grin was wide as he swept you into a bear hug, and for the first time in months, you felt like you could breathe again. Sirius ruffled your hair, Remus gave you a reassuring smile, and Lily’s arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders.
Even as you smiled, as you let yourself feel the warmth of their love and support, a part of you still ached. A part of you still thought of the boy you had left behind. But as the summer sun warmed your face and James’s laughter rang in your ears, you realized that some chapters had to end, no matter how much they hurt.
~~~
The kitchen was warm, filled with the comforting smell of breakfast and the sound of soft laughter. Lily twirled Harry in her arms, humming along to the radio as James danced beside them, making ridiculous faces to elicit another bright giggle from his son. Harry’s laughter rang out like a bell, pure and joyful, filling the room with a happiness so genuine it felt almost untouchable.
June 24, 1981. The day meant nothing and yet everything, because for a fleeting moment, life felt like it was untouched by war. Even without Peter, the Potter manor felt like home again.
Sirius leaned against the counter, a mischievous grin lighting his face as he watched James spin Harry dramatically before dipping him like a proper ballroom partner. “Fancy a dance, Bambi?” Sirius asked, holding out a hand to you with an exaggerated flourish.
You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up before you could stop it. “Only if you promise not to step on my feet, Black.” You placed your hand in his, letting him pull you into the center of the kitchen. The music was upbeat, and Sirius matched it with absurdly exaggerated movements, twirling you around with flair that made you laugh so hard you had to clutch his shoulder for balance.
Sirius finally let out a mock sigh, fanning himself. “Too much for me, little Potter.” He joked, stepping aside. “Your turn, Moony. Show her how a real gentleman dances.”
Remus chuckled softly, stepping forward with a shake of his head. He took your hand with a gentleness that made your heart ache, pulling you into a slower, steadier rhythm despite the lively tune still playing on the radio. Even with his weight pressed heavy on his crutch, and your movements small and slow, it still felt all the same. His gaze lingered on yours, his hazel eyes soft and filled with something you couldn’t quite name.
"You deserve this.” He muttered quietly, just loud enough for you to hear. “To smile like this every day.”
The warmth of his words filled your chest, but it was bittersweet, a reminder of all the times you hadn’t felt this light. You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing a small smile. “You do too, Remus.”
He returned the smile, spinning you one last time before James swept in with dramatic flair, lifting you off the ground. “One more dance before breakfast!” He announced, making you laugh despite yourself. “No sad faces allowed today. We’re celebrating.”
It was perfect- the kind of moment you could tuck away and hold onto when the world outside felt unbearable. Lily danced with Harry in her arms, Sirius joined in with exaggerated moves, and the room filled with the kind of happiness you hadn’t felt in so long. For a brief, fragile moment, it was enough.
But then the music stopped.
The radio cut out abruptly, replaced by the somber voice of a news broadcaster. “We interrupt this broadcast to bring you an urgent update on the latest casualties in the ongoing conflict. The names of those lost in the recent skirmish include…”
The warmth of the room vanished, the light dimming as everyone froze. James set you down gently, his expression hardening as he turned toward the radio. Lily instinctively clutched Harry closer, her face pale. Sirius’s grin disappeared entirely, his hand hovering near the dial as though he could will the news away.
The list of names continued, some familiar, most not. Each one was a reminder of the growing cost of the war, of the lives slipping away like grains of sand.
And then you heard it.
“...Evan Rosier, Bartemius Crouch Junior…”
The words echoed in your ears, louder than anything else. The world seemed to stop. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, as the name repeated in your mind, over and over. Barty.
The boy who had loved you so fiercely, who had been so lost, so desperate to make you stay. He was gone. Evan too, another name tethered to your past, but it was Barty’s that struck you like a knife to the chest.
At first, you laughed. You could of sworn James looked at you like you had lost it; you wouldn't blame him. It was ridiculous. The boy you knew, the magnetic and ethereal wizard who you gave your all too couldn't possibly be dead. He was your age. He was a kid. You had both just graduated- what in Merlin's name could they possibly be on about?
Your laughter slowly died down into a choked gasp and a sniffle, your body stiff. You closed your eyes tight and tried to stifle your sobs. “No…” Your knees buckled, and James caught you instantly, his arm tightening around your shoulders. Sirius reached out, shutting off the radio with a harsh click, the silence that followed deafening.
“He…” Your voice cracked, trembling as you forced the words out. “He’s really gone?”
Remus stepped closer, his expression pained. He placed a hand on your shoulder, steady and comforting. “Yes,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Lily’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she rocked Harry gently, trying to keep him calm. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. The sound of her grief only deepened the ache in your chest.
James pressed his nose to your temple, his hand cradling the back of your head. “I’m sorry, Bambi,” He murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”
The tears came before you could stop them, spilling freely as your body trembled. You clung to James like he was the only thing keeping you grounded, your sobs muffled against his shoulder. The memories of Barty overwhelmed you; the way he’d looked at you, like you were his everything; the way he’d held you, as though letting go would destroy him. The thought that you would never see him again, never hear his voice or feel his touch, crushed you.
“I thought I was over him.” You whispered through your tears, your voice trembling. “I swore I was. But now…”
Sirius moved closer, his arm wrapping around you and James. “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “We’ve got you.”
You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Your throat felt too tight, the lump of grief choking you. You lifted your head to look around the room, at the faces of the people who had been your family for so long. They were blurry through your tears, but their love was palpable, a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions.
Still, the ache remained, deep and unrelenting. Because no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that you had moved on, a part of you would always carry Barty. His loss wasn’t just his death; it was the loss of what could have been, the love that might have saved him if only things had been different. If only he chose it. Because you and Barty were a Hogwarts fling, everyone knows they don't last forever. But even if it crashed in a blazing glory, even if you both turned bitter, if the break up destroyed you. You'd rather feel that.
The kitchen felt colder now, the warmth of the morning replaced by the sobering weight of reality. And yet, as James held you tightly, as Sirius and Remus stayed close, as Lily hummed softly to soothe Harry, you knew you weren’t alone. Even in the face of heartbreak, you were still surrounded by love. And somehow, you would find a way to carry on.
~~~ Bonus Scene~~~
The house was suffocating in its silence.
Your childhood home, once filled with laughter and the chaotic warmth of your family, now seemed cold and lifeless. James and Lily were busy with their own lives, preparing for the future that everyone whispered about in cautious tones, and Sirius had left for good reason you couldn’t fault him for. You were alone, and the empty hallways of the Potter Manor only amplified the echo of your own thoughts.
It had been days since you’d learned the news of what befell Barty.
After the shock ran over you it took days of Remus coaxing to get you out of bed. Then days to be able to face a mirror. Everyone was supportive, helpful, but you felt just as pathetic as you did in school.
The ache in your chest felt heavier tonight as you climbed the stairs to your old room. The moonlight filtered through the windows, casting long, pale shadows across the walls. You reached your room and pushed the door open, slipping inside and locking it with a flick of your wand. It was habit more than anything; no one else was here.
You set your wand on the bedside table and turned toward the window, intent on shutting the heavy curtains, when a hand clamped over your mouth.
Panic erupted within you, and instinct took hold. Without thinking, you threw your head back as hard as you could, the satisfying crack of impact reverberating through your skull. A sharp, pained grunt followed, and the grip on you loosened.
Spinning around, your heart hammering in your chest, you braced for a fight- only to come face to face with the last person you’d expected to see.
“Bloody hell, star,” Barty groaned, one hand pressed to his nose as he leaned against the wall for support. Blood trickled between his fingers, but his lips still curled into that maddeningly familiar smirk. “That’s twice you’ve done that. Are you always this violent, or am I special?”
The air left your lungs, your body frozen in place. “No.” You whispered, shaking your head as if the motion could erase what you were seeing. “No. You’re- You’re supposed to be dead.”
Barty let out a low chuckle, straightening up and swiping at the blood on his face. “I think.. we should talk.”
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