#wc: 10k to 20k

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Hi! I just have to know- will there be a part 2 to Not Quite Poison? I absolutely loved it and the ending was amazing!!!! ❤️❤️❤️

AN: Much love <3 I am so sorry for the wait!

Not Quite Poison {pt. 2}

Barty Crouch Jr. x Potter!Reader

Summary: How Barty came into the dark mark, making his way onto the right side for the wrong reasons.

WC: 20K

CW: this is Uhm.. not happy- not at all. Ambiguous ending. Not proof read, slight!stalker!Barty, obsessive!dark!Barty, the first 10k~ heavily mention the reader but she isn't physically there. Grammar and spelling mistakes. Barty gets kinda creepy at times. Slight Jegulily agenda if you pay attention. Voldemort- does mention the war, heavily cannon divergent, ambiguous ending.

Barty stood in front of the cracked and foggy mirror, the faint chill of the Crouch manor seeping into the room. The glass reflected a version of himself he barely recognized- tie slightly undone, shirt and robes pressed, and hair falling into his face in deliberate order. But none of that mattered. His attention wasn’t on his reflection.

It was on the photos tucked into the edges of the mirror, curling slightly from age and misuse. Polaroids, each imbued with movement and life. Pandora waved energetically in one, her hair a wild halo as Regulus stood beside her with a faint smirk. Another showed Dorcas and Evan laughing together, Regulus rolling his eyes in mock exasperation beside them. They were snapshots of stolen moments, pieces of a life that felt like his own secret treasure.

But one photo sat above the rest, pinned carefully at the center of the mirror’s edge. It was only slightly worn, its edges dulled from handling, but it was the one he couldn’t resist touching. You were in it, your smile soft and warm as you looked up at the camera- no, not the camera. At him. The movement of the photo revealed your mouth forming silent words, likely teasing him as you had been when he’d snapped it.

Barty’s lips curved into a slow smile, a rare, unguarded expression. He adjusted his tie absently- the way you had taught him, his fingers deft but distracted as his eyes stayed locked on your image. The rest of the world felt muted, the chill of the room, the weight of his family name, the suffocating expectations of his father- they all faded. 

He leaned closer to the mirror, watching the way your eyes flicked to the lens and back to him, like you couldn’t help but connect with him even through the photo. 

The other photos were carefully labeled in his neat, slanted handwriting. "Pandora, 1976," "Reggie & Dor, Hogsmeade." But your photo? 

It bore only one word, scrawled with a steady hand, both a promise and a confession: Soon.

Barty straightened, his grin softening but never fading as he tucked his tie into place. He lingered for a moment longer, his fingertips brushing the corner of your photo, almost like he was reaching for you. He didn’t say anything, but his mind buzzed with thoughts of you- your laugh, the sharpness of your words, the way you carried yourself like the world owed you everything and nothing all the same.

“Soon,” He murmured under his breath, his reflection smiling back at him like a man with a secret.

“Barty!” His mother’s voice, sweet and quick, echoed up the grand staircase, breaking through the quiet of his room. The chill seemed to deepen as her tone carried a faint edge of excitement. “Almost ready, dear?”

Barty sighed, his shoulders stiffening for a brief moment before he rolled them back, forcing his usual air of nonchalance to return. His fingers lingered on the tie one last time, tugging it into perfect place as his gaze flickered back to the photo.

You.

Still smiling, still teasing, still looking at him like he was someone worth the attention. Like he was someone free. For a split second, he thought he saw your lips curve, mouthing words he couldn’t quite hear but knew by heart: “Goodbye.”

He shook his head, the corners of his mouth quirking up in amusement at his own foolishness. “Losing it, mate,” He muttered to himself, though his voice carried no real conviction. With a deliberate motion, he grabbed his coat from the back of the chair, draping it over his shoulders as he turned toward the door.

He paused at the threshold, his hand brushing the doorknob as if something unseen was holding him back. His gaze flickered over his shoulder, back to the photo on the mirror. The light caught it just so, making your image shine in the otherwise dim room.

With a final glance, his voice dropped to a whisper, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Don't wait up.”

And then he was gone, his footsteps echoing down the stairs, his usual swagger returning to his stride. The door to his room swung shut behind him, but not before the Polaroid on the mirror caught a draft and fluttered faintly.

Barty descended the grand staircase with an air of practiced indifference, the polished marble underfoot reflecting the flicker of flames from the towering fireplace in the entrance hall. The heavy scent of his father’s cigars clung to the air, mixing with the faint notes of his mother’s perfume- something floral and delicate that always made Barty feel oddly grounded, even in the chaos of the Crouch manor.

His mother was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, her sharp, hawkish eyes softening the moment they landed on him. “Your tie is a mess, dear,” She tutted, stepping forward to fuss with it before he could protest. Her hands moved with deft precision, undoing and retying it until it lay perfectly flat against his chest. 

Barty stood still, letting her work, though his smirk never faltered. “And here I thought I’d perfected it,” He teased lightly, his voice warm enough to draw a small smile from her.

“You’d perfect it if you cared enough. Merlin help whoever has been doing it for you,” She quipped back, smoothing down the front of his robes. She smirked softly up at his bewildered expression. He quickly corrected it. Her touch lingered for a moment, her expression softening further as she looked up at him. “Now, behave yourself tonight, Barty. The Blacks don’t tolerate nonsense, and you know how your father gets.”

As if on cue, his father’s voice boomed from the adjacent room, carrying the same air of authority it always did. “Bartemius!” He barked, stepping into view with his usual commanding stride. “Do you understand the importance of this evening? The Black family is powerful, and their influence extends far beyond-”

“Far beyond whatever petty scandal you think I’ll cause, I’m sure,” Barty interrupted smoothly, his tone playful but edging on insolence. “Don’t worry, Father. I’ll be the picture of decorum.”

His father’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he leveled Barty with a glare that carried years of frustration. “You will not embarrass this family,” He said firmly, his voice low and cold. “This is not some juvenile gathering for you to treat as a joke. You’ll act like a proper heir.”

Barty raised a brow, his smirk sharpening as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “A proper heir,” He echoed mockingly. “Yes, sir. Anything else?”

His mother shot him a warning glance, her hand resting lightly on his arm as if to ground him. “Barty,” she said gently, her voice cutting through the tension. “That’s enough.”

For once, he relented, letting out a quiet sigh. His father grunted in approval, muttering something about “finally showing sense,” before retreating into the next room to oversee last-minute preparations.

Barty turned back to his mother, his smirk softening into something genuine as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Don’t worry, Mum,” He murmured, his voice low but warm. “I’ll be on my best behavior. Scout’s honor.”

She gave him a skeptical look, but there was a flicker of affection in her eyes as she shook her head. “You’re impossible,” She said fondly, brushing a hand through his hair one last time. “Go on, then. Charm everyone.”

“Oh, I plan to,” He said with a wink, straightening his coat with a flourish before stepping toward the front door. He cast one last glance over his shoulder, his grin firmly in place. “Love ya, yeah mum?”

“I love you too.” She sighed with a fond tilt of her head. Wincing when she lifted her fist to cover her lips, giving a particularly harsh cough into her hand.

Barty’s smirk faltered as his mother’s cough echoed through the entrance hall, sharp and brittle, like the crack of ice. Her fist clenched tightly over her mouth, and for a moment, her graceful composure wavered. The sight sent a flicker of unease coursing through him, and his easy confidence dimmed.

“Mum,” He called softly, his voice unusually serious. He took a step toward her, his sharp green eyes searching her face for any sign of reassurance. “That damned cough- how long has it been this bad?”

She waved him off with a weak smile, though her eyes didn’t quite meet his. “Don’t fuss, dear. It’s just a bit of the winter chill. I’ll be fine.”

Barty’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t convinced. “It’s not just a chill,” He pressed, his voice lowering as he stepped closer. “You’ve been coughing like that for months. Have you even-?”

“Enough, Bartemius,” His father’s cold, commanding voice cut through the moment like a blade. The elder Crouch stepped back into the room, his presence as suffocating as ever. His gaze flicked briefly to his wife, but his expression betrayed no concern, only irritation. “Your mother is fine. Do not make a spectacle of this.”

Barty turned to his father, his smirk gone entirely now, replaced with something harder, more volatile. “Fine? Are you serious? She can barely breathe, and you’re sending her off like it’s nothing?”

His father’s lips thinned, his gaze narrowing as he stepped closer. “Do not question me, boy,” He said sharply, his voice low but brimming with authority. “Your mother is being well taken care of. Winky sees to her needs, and the best healers have already examined her.”

“Then why isn’t she getting better?” Barty shot back, his tone teetering on the edge of defiance. His fists clenched at his sides as he stared his father down. “Why does she look worse every time I come home?”

His father’s eyes blazed with unspoken warning, but before he could respond, the soft sound of shuffling feet interrupted them. Winky, the house-elf, appeared in the doorway, her large, watery eyes darting nervously between the two men.

“Master Bartemius,” She said hesitantly, bowing low before turning her attention to Mrs. Crouch. “Mistress, your room is ready. Winky will bring you some tea to help with the cough.”

Mrs. Crouch offered Winky a kind smile, though it was strained. She rested a hand lightly on Barty’s arm, her touch as calming as it had always been. “It’s alright, dear,” She said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Winky will take care of me. You have your evening to focus on.”

Barty’s shoulders stiffened, his jaw clenched so tightly he thought it might crack. He wanted to argue, to demand answers from his father, to do something, anything, to fix the wrongness of the situation. But his mother’s gentle squeeze on his arm stopped him.

Reluctantly, he nodded, his gaze lingering on her as Winky guided her toward the stairs. “Mum-” He started, his voice softer now, almost pleading.

She turned back to him, her smile as warm as it could be despite the pallor of her skin. “Go charm everyone, my darling,” She said, her voice faint but full of love. “You'll do great.”

As she disappeared up the stairs, Barty turned back to his father, his expression cold and unyielding. “She’s not fine,” He muttered quietly, his voice shaking with suppressed anger. “And you know it.”

His father didn’t flinch, his gaze as impassive as ever. “You will do as you’re told,” He said simply, brushing past Barty without another word. “And you will not embarrass this family.”

Barty watched him leave, his fists trembling at his sides, his mind racing with a storm of anger and helplessness. He looked toward the staircase, where his mother had disappeared, and the faint sound of her cough echoed faintly in his ears.

Taking a deep breath, he straightened his coat, his smirk slowly returning to his face like a mask. “Soon,” He muttered to himself, the word heavier now, filled with a quiet, burning promise.

With one last glance toward the stairs, he turned and stepped out into the frosty night, his mind already planning his next move.

~~~

The sharp crack of apparition echoed in the chill of the frosty evening as Barty and his father arrived at the grand gates of the Black Manor. The towering estate loomed ahead, its gothic architecture bathed in soft, flickering torchlight. Every inch of the property was designed to intimidate and awe, a testament to the Black family’s legacy. The ornate iron gates swung open soundlessly as a pair of house-elves bowed low, ushering them inside.

Barty’s father strode ahead without hesitation, his posture as rigid and commanding as ever. Barty followed at a slower pace, his smirk firmly in place as his sharp green eyes took in the scene. The grand entryway was already buzzing with finely dressed purebloods, their polished masks catching the warm glow of chandeliers that hung like constellations above.

A house-elf approached, bowing deeply as it extended a silver tray bearing elaborately crafted masquerade masks. Barty plucked one with a flick of his fingers, the edges gleaming with silver filigree, and slipped it on with an air of practiced ease. The mask concealed just enough to meet the evening’s requirements but left his sharp features unmistakable.

“Remember what I said,” his father muttered lowly as they stepped inside. “Behave.”

“Always,” Barty drawled, his tone light, bordering on mocking. He didn’t wait for a response, brushing past his father and into the heart of the gathering.

The ballroom was a study in decadence. Rich, dark wood lined the floors, and the walls were adorned with tapestries depicting the Black family’s ancient lineage. Every detail, from the gilded accents on the furniture to the symphony playing in the background, spoke of old wealth and untouchable power.

Barty snatched a glass of sparkling champagne from a passing tray, tilting it back as he wove through the crowd with the grace of someone who had long ago mastered the art of mingling while detached. The wine was crisp and cold, doing little to drown out the lingering tension from earlier.

His eyes flickered across the room, scanning for familiar faces. It didn’t take long to find them. Near the grand windows stood Regulus and Evan, their masks impeccably chosen to complement their dark, tailored robes. They both exuded the kind of effortless control that came with knowing they were the center of their world.

Barty approached with an easy smirk, catching the tail end of Evan’s complaint. 

“...what does she even see in him?” Evan muttered, his voice dripping with disdain as he gestured toward the dance floor. 

Barty followed his gaze and found Pandora spinning in a slow, dreamlike circle with Xenophilius, her hair glowing like a halo under the chandelier light. Xenophilius was gazing at her as if she had just descended from the heavens, and Pandora, true to form, looked entirely unbothered by the attention of the room. Even with their flimsy masks, there was no mistaking Pandora’s ethereal glow.

“Pandora,” Regulus supplied in his usual flat tone. “She’s entertaining Lovegood.”

Evan snorted, swirling the dark liquor in his glass. “Entertaining? She’s throwing the whole bloody circus.”

Barty chuckled, his smirk widening as he clinked his champagne flute against Evan’s glass. “Maybe she’s tired of the same old crowd,” He suggested, his voice light but with an edge of cynicism. “It's a sad sight when a witch like her plays to the back row.”

Regulus arched a brow, but a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “And you'd suppose there is much better here?”

Barty spread his arms in mock innocence. “More entertaining, at least.”

The conversation drifted, but Barty’s attention lingered on Pandora and Xenophilius. The carefree way Pandora laughed, the subtle glances Xenophilius stole, the way they moved as though the rest of the room didn’t exist- it tugged at something unspoken in Barty. Jealousy? No. Longing? Possibly. He drained the rest of his champagne, the burn sharp against the lingering weight of his earlier thoughts.

The scene stirred a memory, unbidden but vivid. 

You, standing just like Pandora now, on a crisp autumn day. Hidden away with him in the dark forest. The sunlight danced on your cheeks as you turned to look at him, mischief glinting in your eyes. “You’re staring,” You teased, your lips curving into that sharp smile that never failed to disarm him.

“Can’t help it,” Barty had hummed, his voice soft but steady, though his heart was pounding in his chest. “You’re a vision.”

You’d laughed then, light and airy, brushing his words off with a playful roll of your eyes. But the way you looked at him lingered- like he was the only person in the world who could keep up with you. You had hardly been seeing each other for a few months, and he could rightfully say he'd die satisfied.

The memory dissipated as quickly as it came, leaving a faint ache in its wake. Barty’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second before he masked it with a careless shrug, his eyes snapping back to Regulus and Evan.

“What’s the point of all this?” He asked, his voice louder now, cutting through the haze of his thoughts. He gestured vaguely to the room, to the glittering masks and the polished floor. “We all know these little gatherings are just an excuse for the old guard to pat themselves on the back.”

Regulus regarded him silently for a moment, his gray eyes unreadable. Then, his eyes flickered with amusement as he took a slow sip of his drink, letting the weight of Barty’s question hang in the air before answering. “Perhaps you’re just jealous,” He remarked coolly, his tone casual but pointed. 

Barty stiffened slightly, his smirk faltering for barely a moment before he covered it with a raised brow and a scoff. “Jealous?” He echoed, the word dripping with disdain. “Of what, exactly? Lovegood’s charming lack of awareness? Please.”

Regulus’s lips curled into the faintest hint of a smirk as he leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping just enough that it carried an air of intimacy. “Not of Lovegood,” He cheeked smoothly, his gaze unwavering. “But perhaps of how effortlessly he can occupy someone’s attention. Someone who’s a bit... untouchable, wouldn’t you say?”

Barty’s green eyes narrowed, his easy charm flickering as he straightened his posture. “I’ve no idea what you’re on about,” He shot back, his tone sharp and defensive. But the slight tightening of his jaw betrayed him.

Evan, standing just to Regulus’s left, let out a bark of laughter that he quickly muffled with his drink when it echoed a little too loudly in the grand ballroom. “Oh, come off it, Barty,” He teased, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Everyone knows about your little Potter situation. Been obvious since, what- first year?”

Barty’s grip on his empty champagne flute tightened, the delicate glass threatening to crack under the pressure. “You’re treading on thin ice,” He muttered darkly, his voice low enough that only they could hear.

Regulus exchanged a knowing glance with Evan before continuing, his smirk widening ever so slightly. “It’s not exactly a secret, Barty. You’ve been positively tame lately. More reserved. Dare I say... domesticated?” He arched a brow, his words carefully chosen to needle Barty just enough. 

Evan snorted, clearly enjoying himself. “Spending all that energy elsewhere, are you?” He quipped, his grin mischievous as he swirled the dark liquid in his glass. “Don’t tell me she’s got you wrapped around her little finger already. It's hardly been a few months.”

“Enough,” Barty hissed, his voice sharper now as his composure cracked. His smirk was gone entirely, replaced by a cold, dangerous edge that made both Regulus and Evan pause- if only briefly.

Regulus tilted his head slightly as he studied Barty. “Relax,” He mumbled, his tone smooth but calculated. “We’re only pointing out the obvious. It’s not like you’ve done much to hide it- from us anyway.”

Barty clenched his jaw, his sharp green eyes flicking between the two of them as he fought to rein in his temper. “You two don’t know the first thing about it,” he muttered, his voice low and venomous.

Evan raised his hands in mock surrender, though the grin on his face didn’t waver. “Alright, alright. No need to get your knickers in a twist,” He chuckled lightly, though his tone carried a hint of mischief. “Just saying, you’re a bit less... feral these days. It’s almost endearing.”

Regulus’s smirk returned, though his gaze remained as unreadable as ever. “Endearing isn’t the word I’d use,” He murmured, his tone thoughtful. “But... she does seem to have softened you. If only slightly.”

Barty didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he traded his empty flute with a new glass as an elf passed. Only then he drained the champagne in one swift motion before setting the glass down on a table with deliberate precision. “You two really enjoy the sound of your own voices, don’t you?” He prodded, his smirk returning, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

Evan chuckled, unfazed by Barty’s sharp tone. “Always,” He said with a wink, raising his glass in a mock toast.

Regulus remained silent, his piercing gaze locked on Barty as though he could see straight through him. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the tension hanging heavy between them.

Finally, Barty let out a breath, his smirk softening into something closer to resignation. “You lot don’t know half as much as you think you do,” He muttered, his voice quieter now.

Regulus’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes- curiosity, perhaps, or maybe understanding. “Perhaps not,” He shrugged, his tone measured. “But we know enough. All I ask is you be careful with this obsession of yours- just because you have her now doesn't mean your recklessness can keep her.”

With that, Regulus turned away, his attention shifting back to the dance floor where Pandora and Xenophilius still spun in their carefree circle. Evan followed suit, though not without shooting Barty one last amused glance.

Barty remained where he was, his fists clenched at his sides as he stared down at the empty champagne flute on the table beside him. Their words echoed in his mind, each one striking a nerve he didn’t want to acknowledge. 

Because, as much as he hated to admit it, they weren’t entirely wrong.

You had softened him. And for all his bravado, all his sharp words and reckless charm, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Not when you were the one thing in his life that made him feel like the rest of the world didn’t matter.

Barty watched the crowd with a mixture of disinterest and muted irritation. The edges of his smirk thinning with every passing second as he observed his father. 

The elder Crouch, usually so rigid and commanding, was making an embarrassing display of himself. His attempts at impressing the notable pureblood families were painfully obvious- his booming voice, the forced laughter, the way he stood just a little too close to Walburga Black and Orion as he gestured with exaggerated importance. It was pathetic. 

Barty’s fingers tightened to a fist. 

“Look at him,” He muttered under his breath, his tone edged with disdain. “Groveling like a damned house-elf for their approval.”

Regulus, who had returned with a fresh drink, raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He simply followed Barty’s gaze, his expression as impassive as ever.

Evan, meanwhile, let out a low chuckle. “You’d think he was a Gryffindor the way he’s going on,” he quipped, swirling the liquor in his glass. “Does he ever stop to breathe?”

Barty’s smirk returned, faint but biting. “Not when there’s an audience,” he replied coolly. He drained the last of his champagne, the glass clinking softly as he set it on a passing tray. “Though I suppose someone has to make a fool of themselves tonight. Saves me the trouble.”

Evan laughed again, but Barty’s attention had already shifted. Across the ballroom, someone new had appeared- or at least, someone unfamiliar. Even beneath the gilded mask, the stranger exuded a quiet confidence that set them apart from the rest of the crowd. They moved through the room with deliberate ease, stopping to exchange words with all the right people: Walburga and Orion, the Rosiers, the Malfoys. Each interaction seemed to command attention without effort, as though the very air bent to accommodate them.

Barty’s eyes narrowed, his curiosity piqued. He noted the way his father, who had been so eager to ingratiate himself moments ago, now seemed to shrink in the stranger’s presence. The elder Crouch stood at a distance, his usual bluster subdued, his posture stiff.

Barty’s smirk widened, his earlier irritation melting into something sharper- spite, perhaps, or maybe just reckless amusement. “Well, that’s interesting,” He murmured, more to himself than to Regulus or Evan.

“What is?” Evan asked, glancing over his shoulder.

Barty didn’t answer. He was already weaving through the crowd, his stride confident and easy, his mask barely concealing the mischievous glint in his eyes. If his father was going to cower, Barty would do the exact opposite.

He approached the stranger with all the charm and bravado he could muster, his smirk firmly in place as he came to a stop just within their line of sight. “You’re making quite the impression,” He said, his voice smooth and light, as though they were old acquaintances. “I thought it only polite to introduce myself. Bartemius Crouch, Jr.”

The stranger didn’t speak, his red eyes locking on Barty’s with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the polished veneer of his charm. His gaze swept over Barty in a way that felt almost invasive, as though he were seeing beyond the finely tailored robes and cocky smirk. 

Barty raised an eyebrow, unfazed- or at least, pretending to be. “Not much of a talker, are we?” he quipped, his tone light and mocking. “I’ve got to say, you’re doing wonders for the mystique.”

Still, the man said nothing. Instead, he extended his hand, his long, pale fingers steady and deliberate. 

Barty hesitated for half a second, the silence unsettling in a way he wouldn’t admit aloud. But he didn’t back down. He never backed down. With a sharp smirk, he clasped the stranger’s hand in his own, his grip firm as if to assert dominance.

It was a mistake.

The instant their hands and eyes met, Barty felt it- a sharp, burning force slicing into his mind like a blade. His vision blurred, and his breath hitched as he tried to pull away, but the man’s grip tightened, unyielding and cold as iron. 

A searing pain lanced through his skull as the stranger’s presence flooded his mind. His memories flashed before him in rapid succession, too fast to grasp: flashes of childhood, the weight of his father’s disapproval, the taste of rebellion on his tongue. 

And then, abruptly, it shifted. 

The memories slowed, becoming clearer. There you were, comforting him in Diagon Alley, pushing him against a tree in the forbidden forest, kissing him in a broom closet- like you meant it. The warmth of your presence, the way you seemed to fill every space you entered, the way your voice lingered in his mind long after you were gone. 

The stranger’s smirk deepened, his expression dark and knowing. 

“No,” Barty growled through gritted teeth, his voice strained as he tried to push the man out. He summoned every ounce of willpower he had, but it was useless. The stranger’s grip tightened further, his fingers like a vice around Barty’s hand.

“She's rather beautiful.” The man spoke slow, deliberate as he stepped closer to Barty, lips hovering near his ear. “A blood traitor no less?”

Barty’s eyes snapped to the stranger’s hand as his grip tightened, the sharp edges of his smirk now gone, replaced by a look of thinly veiled fury. “Careful how you talk about her,” Barty growled, his voice low and venomous. The man’s words struck a nerve, twisting something primal and protective deep inside him.

The stranger tilted his head, his red eyes narrowing with amusement. “You misunderstand me, Bartemius,” He said smoothly, his tone dark and deliberate. “I’m not questioning your devotion. I’m simply questioning... how long you’ll be able to keep her safe?”

Barty stiffened, his jaw clenching as his mind raced. Before he could retort, the man released his hand, taking a measured step back and gesturing toward the far end of the ballroom with a flick of his wrist. “Come,” he said, his voice like silk, commanding without raising in volume. “We have much to discuss.”

For a moment, Barty hesitated. His sharp green eyes flicked to his shocked father. His eyes snapped to  Regulus and Evan, who were being ushered quietly out of the ballroom by their respective parents. Regulus looked tense, his usual calm veneer betraying a hint of unease. Evan’s normally sharp tongue was eerily silent, his gaze focused on the floor as he followed without question.

Barty’s attention snapped back to the stranger, his pulse quickening as he considered his options. The man’s words hung heavy in the air, and despite his usual defiance, there was an undeniable pull- an unspoken command he couldn’t quite resist. And after he had seen you? There was no way he was leaving without answers.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” The man added, his voice sharper now, cutting through Barty’s hesitation like a blade.

Reluctantly, Barty straightened his coat and followed, his smirk slipping back into place as he trailed the stranger through the opulent corridors of the Black Manor. His sharp eyes scanned the halls, noting how quiet it had become, the laughter and music from the ballroom fading with every step. 

The stranger led him down a winding staircase, the air growing colder and heavier with each step. At the base of the stairs, a heavy iron door loomed ahead, its surface etched with intricate runes that seemed to shift in the flickering torchlight.

As the door creaked open, Barty stepped into a dimly lit chamber, its stone walls lined with shelves of dark artifacts and ancient tomes. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and burning incense, the flickering light casting long shadows that danced across the room. 

Inside, the gathering was already underway. The Blacks, Malfoys, Lestranges, Averys, and Mulcibers stood in a loose circle, their faces carefully blank but their postures tense. Regulus was rigid, his hands clasped tightly in front of him as he stood beside Walburga, who surveyed the room with a piercing gaze. Evan lingered near his parents- Pandora and Felix nowhere in sight, his usual confidence replaced by a quiet, watchful stillness.

Barty’s sharp gaze flicked to the center of the room, where the stranger stood with his back to the crowd. His dark robes seemed to absorb the flickering light, his pale hands resting lightly on the edge of an elaborate marble table. Slowly, he turned to face the gathered families, his slick black hair gleaming, his red eyes glowing with an unnatural intensity.

It was him. 

Voldemort.

Even in his most human form, Voldemort’s presence was suffocating, an overwhelming mix of charisma and malice that seemed to fill every corner of the room. His lips curved into a smile, cold and sharp, as his gaze swept over the gathered families.

“Welcome,” Voldemort said, his voice smooth and commanding. “It is rare to gather so many esteemed families under one roof. Tonight marks the beginning of a new era- a turning point for our world.”

His red eyes lingered on Regulus for a moment, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as Walburga stepped forward, her expression a mix of pride and caution. But then his gaze shifted, landing squarely on Barty. 

The air seemed to thicken as Voldemort studied him, his smile widening ever so slightly. “Ah, Bartemius,” he said softly, his tone laced with amusement. “The defiant son.”

Barty met his gaze head-on, his smirk sharpening into something more unstable. “And here I thought this was a party,” he drawled, his voice light but edged with steel. “You’ve got a funny way of celebrating.”

A ripple of tension passed through the room, several heads turning toward Barty with expressions ranging from shock to disapproval. But Voldemort merely chuckled, the sound low and dark. “I like him,” He said, his voice carrying an unsettling warmth. “Such fire. Such conviction.”

He stepped closer to Barty, his red eyes gleaming as he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I wonder, though... will that fire be enough to protect the things you hold most dear?”

Barty’s smirk faltered, his jaw tightening as the meaning behind Voldemort’s words became clear. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He said evenly, though his voice lacked its usual confidence.

Voldemort’s smile widened, his gaze sharp and knowing. “Oh, but I think you do,” He murmured, his voice a soft, dangerous hum. “It’s written all over you, Bartemius. Your every thought, your every action- it all leads back to her.”

Barty stiffened, his fists clenching at his sides as his mind raced. He wanted to deny it, to push back against the weight of Voldemort’s words, but he couldn’t. The truth was too raw, too close to the surface.

Voldemort straightened, his gaze sweeping over the room once more. “Loyalty is a powerful thing,” He said, his voice louder now, addressing the entire group. “But it is also a weakness. Those who cannot control their attachments will find themselves undone by them.”

His red eyes flicked back to Barty, his smile turning razor-sharp. “I wonder, Bartemius... how far would you go to keep her safe?”

Barty’s heart pounded in his chest, the weight of the question pressing down on him like a vice. He met Voldemort’s gaze, his sharp green eyes blazing. “Farther than you’d ever understand,” he said firmly, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.

Voldemort chuckled, a low, sinister sound that echoed through the chamber. “We shall see,” he said simply, his red eyes gleaming with dark amusement.

~~~

The room in Grimmauld Place was dimly lit, the heavy drapes drawn tightly shut. Shadows flickered against the walls as the fire in the corner crackled weakly, doing little to dispel the chill that clung to the air. Regulus sat on the edge of his bed, hunched over, his face buried in his hands. His shoulders trembled as quiet, restrained sobs broke the silence, his other hand resting on his forearm, fingers tracing the dark outline of the new mark branded into his skin.

Barty sat on a worn chair by the fireplace, elbows resting on his knees, his sharp green eyes fixed on Regulus. His shirt was untucked, his tie discarded and forgotten on the floor. There was none of his usual bravado or sharp wit. For once, he looked exhausted- every ounce of his energy focused on Regulus, who seemed barely aware of the world around him.

Evan paced near the window, his footsteps soft against the worn rug. His expression was tight, jaw clenched as he stole glances at Regulus before shaking his head and resuming his pacing. Finally, he stopped, turning on Barty with a glare that carried as much confusion as anger.

“You’re an idiot, Crouch,” Evan spat, breaking the tense silence. His voice was low, but the sharpness of his words echoed in the small room. “I’ve seen you reckless, sure. I’ve even seen you stupid. But this? This is a new level.”

Barty’s head snapped up, his expression darkening instantly. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he shot back, his voice rising, though his sharp tone was tempered by the sight of Regulus shaking on the bed.

Evan gestured angrily toward Regulus. “This! All of this! Regulus had no choice. His mother would’ve killed him if he’d refused. My father would of crucio’d me. But you? You didn’t have to do it, Barty. No one was forcing you.”

Barty stiffened, rising to his feet in one fluid motion. He pointed a finger at Evan, his voice cold and edged with fury. “Don’t you dare stand there and act like I wasn’t forced,” he growled, stepping closer. “You heard what he said. You saw him.”

Evan didn’t back down, his jaw tightening as he jabbed a finger back at Barty. “Oh, I know exactly what I saw,” He said, his voice sharp. “You saw a threat to her. And instead of doing the smart thing- literally anything else- you let him mark you like some lapdog.”

“Shut your mouth,” Barty snarled, his fists clenching at his sides.

Evan’s laugh was bitter and humorless. “You’re not denying it,” he said, shaking his head. “Every bloody move you’ve made since second year has been about her. She doesn’t even truly know you. Her family hates you, for Merlin’s sake! And now you’re tied to him- forever. For what? Some girl who wouldn’t look at you twice if-”

“Don’t you finish that sentence,” Barty snapped, his voice dangerously low. He took another step forward, his green eyes blazing with a mix of rage and something far more vulnerable. “You don’t know the first thing about her.”

Evan scoffed, throwing his hands in the air. “What’s there to know? You’ve been reckless, selfish, and stupid- real stupidity, Barty, not your usual charming kind- the kind you use to hide your genius- in the name of protecting a girl who wouldn’t want this!”

“Don’t act like I don’t know that!” Barty shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of his frustration. His fists trembled at his sides, and for a moment, the firelight caught the sheen of unshed tears in his eyes. “Don’t you think I know what I’ve done? What I’ve sacrificed?”

Evan opened his mouth to respond, but Barty cut him off, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “He already knew, Evan. About her. About everything. He didn’t have to say her name- I could see it in his eyes. If I hadn’t done it, she’d be a pawn. He’d find a way to destroy her, to use her, just to punish me.” His voice shook, but his gaze didn’t waver. “I made a choice. I’ll live with it.”

Regulus’s quiet voice broke through the tension like a whisper in a storm. “You shouldn’t have done it,” He murmured, his words trembling as he finally looked up from his hands. His gray eyes were red-rimmed, his cheeks pale and damp with tears. “You didn’t have to.”

Barty turned to him, his expression softening, though his voice remained firm. “Yes, I did,” He said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument. He crouched beside Regulus, resting a hand on his shoulder. “If I didn’t, it wouldn’t just be me paying the price. You know that.”

Regulus’s gaze dropped back to the mark on his arm, his fingers trembling as they traced the outline. “What happens when she finds out?” He whispered, his voice barely audible.

Barty hesitated, the weight of the question hanging heavily in the air. He glanced at Evan, who was watching him with a mixture of anger and something closer to pity, and then back at Regulus. Finally, he stood, his jaw tightening as he straightened his posture.

“I still saved her,” Barty said quietly, his voice steady. “That’s all that matters.”

The room fell into silence again, the fire’s soft crackle the only sound. Evan shook his head, turning back toward the window with a frustrated sigh. Regulus curled further into himself, his hands covering his face as he tried to muffle the quiet sobs that escaped him.

And Barty stood there, his fists clenching and unclenching as he stared at the floor. His mind was already miles away, picturing your face, your soft smile, the way your eyes seemed to see straight through him. He didn’t know what you’d say when you found out- or if you’d ever forgive him. But one thing was certain.

He’d do it all again. For you.

~~~

Returning to school after winter break wasn't the hard part. Facing you was.

It was hell to lie to you, especially when everything has just been getting good. If he said he wanted to tell you, he'd be lying. He knew he should; he knew you had a right to know the danger he was now apart of, but that ever arrogant and cocky part of him assured him it wasn't something he would have to worry about.

Because he was Bartemius Crouch Junior. Only rivaled in intelligence by Lily Evans- the brightest wizard of his age. He knew what he was doing, and even in his anxieties, he told himself above all else he needed to keep you safe. 

But he was still as much himself as he ever would be. He couldn't help but indulge in you.

The castle was quieter than usual, the last traces of the winter chill lingering in the air as students trickled back after the holidays. Barty leaned against the doorway of the empty boys' dormitory, his sharp green eyes trained on the frost-lined window across the room. His tie hung loosely around his neck, his uniform rumpled as though he’d thrown it on in haste. But that was a front, like everything else these days. The chaos of his appearance was deliberate, a way to distract from the turmoil bubbling beneath the surface.

He hadn’t seen you since before the break, not properly. Brief glimpses in the common room or the Great Hall weren’t enough. They never were. And now that you’d agreed to meet him- alone- his pulse was racing in a way he hadn’t felt in weeks.

The door creaked open, and there you were, framed by the dim light of the corridor. You slipped inside, shutting the door softly behind you. Your eyes found him immediately, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“You’re a mess,” you teased lightly, your voice carrying the warmth that had kept him sane through countless sleepless nights. “Didn’t anyone teach you how to tie that thing properly?”

Barty grinned, stepping forward to close the distance between you. “You did, actually,” he murmured, his voice low and playful as his fingers toyed with the edge of his tie. “But I seem to forget every time you’re not around to fix it.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no hiding the way your smile widened. “Lucky for you, I’m feeling generous,” you replied, reaching up to undo the messy knot. Your fingers brushed against his chest as you worked, and Barty inhaled sharply, his grin softening.

“Merlin, I’ve missed you,” he breathed, the words slipping out before he could stop them. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as you glanced up at him in surprise. He didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, then another just beneath your jaw.

“Barty,” you chided half-heartedly, though your voice wavered as his lips trailed down the column of your neck. “You’re impossible.”

“Am I? Tell me about it.” He murmured against your skin, his grin returning as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below your ear. “Or have you just forgotten how much fun I am when we’re alone?”

Your laughter filled the room, light and melodic, and Barty felt the tension in his chest ease for the first time in weeks. He moved to kiss you properly, capturing your lips in a way that was both soft and desperate, as though he were trying to make up for every second you’d been apart.

You melted into him, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as the kiss deepened. Barty’s grip on your waist tightened, and without breaking the kiss, he guided you backward until your knees hit the edge of the bed. You let out a soft gasp as he lowered you onto the mattress, his weight settling over you.

“Missed you so much,” He murmured between kisses, his voice rough with emotion. “You’ve no idea.”

You cupped his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I missed you too,” you said softly, your thumb brushing over the faint shadows under his eyes. “What’s going on with you, Barty? You’ve been… different.”

The question sent a jolt of panic through him, but he masked it with a crooked grin, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Different? Me? Never,” he teased, his tone light. “I’m the same charming git you’ve always adored.”

Your brows knit together, but before you could press further, he silenced you with another kiss, pouring every ounce of longing and frustration into it. His hands roamed up your sides, his touch gentle but insistent, and soon the only sounds in the room were the rustle of fabric and the muffled sighs that escaped your lips.

It didn’t go further than that. It never did. Not because the desire wasn’t there, but because Barty couldn’t bear the thought of letting you see all the cracks in his carefully constructed facade. This- just you, just him, just this moment- was enough. It had to be.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as you both caught your breath. His hands cradled your face, his thumbs tracing the curve of your cheekbones as he studied you. “You’re perfect, you know that?” He murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, your fingers brushing over the back of his neck. “What a romantic,” you teased, though there was no mistaking the affection in your tone.

“You make me that way.” he replied, his grin softening as he leaned in to kiss you again.

The sun had long since set, plunging the room into soft 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. Barty lay beside you on his narrow bed, his body curled protectively around yours. His hand cradled your cheek, thumb tracing slow, deliberate lines as if committing every detail to memory. His other hand rested on your waist, his fingers pressing lightly into your skin- not to possess, but to ground himself, to remind him you were real.

His green eyes softened as they fixed on you. There was a kind of rawness in his expression, a vulnerability he never let the rest of the world see. The weight of the war, of his family, of all the lies he carried- it all seemed to melt away in your presence. In this space, there was no Voldemort, no Crouch manor, no mark on his arm. Just you. Just this moment.

And Merlin, he thought, you were stunning. The way the candlelight danced across your face, your lips curved into a faint smile- it was almost too much for him to bear. His chest ached with a quiet, desperate sort of love, the kind he’d never admit aloud because to say it might ruin it. You deserved softness, honesty, all the things he could only give you in the silence of moments like this.

“What are you smiling about?” You teased, brushing your nose against his, your fingers weaving through the hair at the nape of his neck. The gentle tug of your touch sent a shiver down his spine, and he exhaled softly, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment before finding yours again.

“You,” He murmured, his voice thick with affection. His thumb paused on your cheek, pressing lightly as his smile deepened. “Thinking about how breathtaking you look right now.”

Your laughter was soft and warm, filling the small space between you like sunlight breaking through a cloud. “You’re such a sap,” you teased, but your tone was tender, your own gaze brimming with affection.

“Only for you,” he replied without hesitation, his lips curling into a lazy smirk. But there was nothing lazy about the way he watched you- intense, as if the weight of his world rested entirely in your hands.

You kissed him then, slow and soft, and Barty let himself get lost in it. He tightened his hold on you, his arms wrapping more securely around your frame as though he could somehow hold you closer than skin allowed. The desperation seeped through him, the way his lips lingered on yours, the way his hands mapped the curve of your waist. You were his anchor, his reprieve, his reason to keep fighting against the tides threatening to drag him under.

But then your lips began to trail down his jaw, feather-light and slow, leaving a line of soft kisses along his neck. He let out a quiet sigh, tilting his head slightly to give you more access, his fingers threading through your hair. He was wholly yours in this moment, every wall he’d built around himself crumbling beneath your touch.

And then your hand slipped beneath the sleeve of his shirt.

The moment your fingertips brushed against the raised, rough skin on his forearm, Barty’s entire body went rigid. His breath caught, and his heart thundered in his chest. Panic surged through him, sharp and consuming, as if the world had suddenly tipped sideways. 

You froze, your touch tentative as your brow furrowed. “Barty,” you murmured, your voice soft but edged with a quiet dread. “What’s this? Did you get a new tattoo?”

His heart dropped. He should have prepared for this, should have thought of an excuse, should have done something other than lie here like an idiot and hope it never came up. His green eyes snapped open, the warmth in them vanishing as his hand shot out to catch your wrist. He gripped it firmly but not harshly, his touch trembling slightly. “It’s nothing,” he said quickly, his voice sharper than he intended. “Don’t- don’t worry about it.”

But you didn’t let it go. You never did. You tilted your head, searching his face for the truth he was so desperately trying to hide. “Barty,” you said again, your voice firmer now, though it trembled at the edges. “Show me.”

He never knew pain as intimately as he knew it that night. When you left, closed the door on him and a chapter of his life he never wanted to end- he didn't know what to do. He spent hours, early into the daylight just wondering how he could properly gravel for your forgiveness. 

He knew it was stupid. Regulus told him. Evan had told him. Pandora warned him. Dorcas had walked away.

So, he wandered.

Barty's footsteps echoed down the quiet corridor leading to Gryffindor Tower, the early morning light filtering faintly through the frosted windows. He wasn't thinking about where he was going. Having wandered aimlessly in what seemed to be a never ending circle, his legs numb down to their calves. That familiar exhaustion pangs- the aches powerful as ever. Every thought was consumed by you- your expression when you saw the mark, the pain in your voice, the way you had turned and walked away without looking back.

He had been through countless battles- against his father’s expectations, against the oppressive rules of his world, against the looming shadow of Voldemort. But this? This felt like defeat.

He leaned against the cold stone wall, his head tipping back as he exhaled a shaky breath. The smirk he so often wore was gone, replaced by an emptiness that reflected in his sharp green eyes. “You’ll understand,” he muttered to himself, though the words rang hollow. “You have to.”

Barty’s pacing resumed, his frustration and desperation bubbling to the surface. He had never been good at waiting, at sitting still, and the gnawing ache in his chest made him feel like he was coming apart at the seams. He wasn’t even sure what he would say to you- how he could explain the choices he had made, the things he had done. All he knew was that he had to try.

You, in all for fire and passion, had taught Barty things he never thought possible. You taught him a world so far separated from his own he never saw it to be truly real; and the consequences of his daydreams were crashing down through his pride and arrogance. 

You showed him patience.

You showed him kindness.

You showed him something he never knew he could believe, that someone with his father’s blood running through their veins could love. 

Not in the way he loved his friends. Not how his father claims to love his mother. Not how his father claimed to love himself. A love so terrifying he would drop his soul at Voldemort's feet a million times over if it meant you would never have to know what it meant to meet heartbreak. But he brought you to that door. He brought you to that fall and did all but shove you in. 

Was this it?

With all of the time in the world it wasn't something that crossed his mind. That it could feel like he was being torn from his chest, torn from his rib cage and left to watch his heart beat outside of him. Knowing you were the one it was going to ruin him further. What was left of his humanity if you weren't their to witness it?

He was an actor playing brave. A crow imitating a lion's roar- if just to shield himself from reality. That he was nothing more than hollowed bones before you and you had turned away. Calling him out for what he truly was. A coward.

Barty was snapped out of his melodrama when he felt a sharp shove against his shoulder. Barty barely had a chance to process the shove before he was slammed back into the cold stone wall. His sharp green eyes snapped to the source, narrowing as he found himself face-to-face with James Potter. James’s hazel eyes were blazing with fury, his glasses slightly askew from the force of his push. Sirius stood a few feet away, leaning casually against the same wall, lighting a cigarette like this was any other morning. But the hard set of his jaw betrayed the tension he was trying to mask.

~~~

Years passed, and the boy who had once been sharp-tongued and reckless, who laughed at the world’s absurdities and sought refuge in fleeting pleasures, was gone. War had hollowed him out, his wit and charm replaced with a cold, calculating precision. Bartemius Crouch Jr. had become everything his father had ever wanted- and feared- master of cruelty, a weapon honed to deadly perfection in Voldemort’s service.

But even as he climbed the ranks of the Death Eaters, even as his name became a whispered fear among those who resisted the Dark Lord, there was a part of him that refused to die. A part that clung to a single memory: soon.

You, standing in the sunlight, your laughter echoing like a melody he couldn’t forget. You, touching his face with a softness he didn’t deserve. You, walking away, your tears falling like shards of glass that had embedded themselves in his heart. Every attempt he had taken to open his chest and run his bunt nails across the organ most at fault for his weakness only buried them deeper. As if a reminder of what would always be too far from his reach. A love so violent.

The meeting had been brief, but its impact lingered in the cold air of the chamber long after Voldemort’s crimson eyes had burned into Barty’s. The Dark Lord stood before him, his presence oppressive, his serpentine features bathed in the dim green glow of cursed fire.

“You come to me with a request,” Voldemort said, his voice a silky hiss. “How unusual, Bartemius. It is typically I who gives orders.”

Barty knelt before him, his head bowed low, but his voice was steady as he spoke. “My loyalty to you is absolute, my lord. I have proven that time and again. But I seek… a guarantee.”

Voldemort’s laughter was low and chilling, a sound that reverberated off the stone walls. “A guarantee? How quaint. What is it you fear?”

Barty lifted his gaze, his green eyes cold but resolute. “If the war turns against us- if there are sacrifices to be made- I ask only one thing. Spare her. Spare her.”

The air grew heavier, as if the magic itself recoiled at his words. Voldemort tilted his head, studying Barty with a curiosity that was far more dangerous than anger. “You would make a deal with me, Bartemius? A deal for a blood traitor? A girl who abandoned you?”

Barty didn’t flinch. “Yes.”

The silence stretched, and then Voldemort stepped closer, his red eyes boring into Barty’s. “You should know better than most, Bartemius, that attachments are a weakness. They cloud the mind, dull the edge of a blade. I have warned you before: those who cannot control their attachments will find themselves undone by them.” 

Barty met his gaze without wavering. “Then I will accept the consequences, my lord. But my loyalty is yours, as long as you promise her safety.”

The Dark Lord’s lips curled into a cruel smile, his pale fingers brushing against Barty’s cheek like a mockery of affection- reminded of another onyx haired folly who kneeled before him with a similar request of his own. 

Voldemort’s crimson eyes gleamed with a twisted amusement, his pale lips curling into a cruel smirk as he loomed over Barty. The chamber felt colder, the green fire casting long, flickering shadows that seemed to reach for Barty like phantoms.

“Watching her,” Voldemort murmured, his voice a silken mockery. “Such a word hardly does justice to the devotion you’ve shown, does it, Bartemius?” His tone dripped with derision, his serpentine features etched with dark satisfaction.

Barty’s jaw tightened, his green eyes locked on the floor, unwilling to meet the Dark Lord’s gaze. He didn’t respond. He knew better.

“Oh, do not deny it,” Voldemort continued, leaning closer, his presence suffocating. “I see everything, Bartemius. The way you slip away, cloaked in shadows, to steal glimpses of her life. The way you linger at the edge of her world, savoring the scraps of her existence like a starving dog. The way you indulge in the very idea of her- her name, her memory, her scent. You cling to her like a drowning man to driftwood.”

Barty’s fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms until they threatened to draw blood. Still, he didn’t speak. He couldn’t. Not when every word Voldemort spoke was a truth he’d buried deep within himself.

Voldemort’s smile widened, his voice dropping to a low, venomous whisper. “How deliciously human of you, Bartemius. To be undone by something so… trivial. A girl who has cast you aside, who would recoil in horror if she saw what you’ve become. And yet you kneel here, groveling for her life.”

Barty’s head snapped up then, his sharp green eyes blazing with defiance. “I would do anything to keep her safe,” he said, his voice low but steady. The words were a declaration, a challenge.

Voldemort tilted his head, his expression shifting to one of feigned curiosity. “Anything,” he repeated, as if tasting the word. “How noble. How foolish.”

He leaned closer, his red eyes narrowing as he studied Barty with a dark intensity. “Tell me, Bartemius,” he purred, his voice cold and cutting. “Do you truly believe she is worth it? This girl who has banished you from her heart and her mind? Who has turned her back on you without a second thought?”

Barty didn’t flinch, his voice unwavering as he replied. “Yes.”

The air seemed to vibrate with the weight of the single word, the defiance in Barty’s tone hanging between them like a challenge. Voldemort straightened, his lips curling into a smile that was both amused and sinister.

“How very predictable,” Voldemort said softly, his voice dripping with disdain. “Love has made fools of greater men than you, Bartemius. It is a poison, a weakness that festers and rots until nothing remains but regret and ruin.”

He stepped back, his gaze sweeping over Barty with a cold detachment. “But I am not without a sense of humor,” he continued, his tone almost light. “Very well. I will grant your request. She will be spared- so long as you remain useful to me.”

Relief flickered in Barty’s eyes, but it was short-lived as Voldemort’s smile turned razor-sharp.

“However,” the Dark Lord added, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, “know this: her life is a gift that I give, not to her, but to you. A reminder of who holds the power in this... arrangement. She lives because I allow it. And if you falter, if you fail me even once, her safety will be the first thing I take from you.”

Barty bowed his head, his voice steady but strained as he replied, “I will not fail you, my lord.”

Voldemort’s laughter echoed through the chamber, cold and mirthless. “We shall see,” he said, his red eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction. “We shall see.”

~~~

The Potter Manor loomed in the moonlight, a quiet fortress against the chaos of the world beyond. Barty crouched in the shadows just beyond the property line, his sharp green eyes scanning the grounds for any sign of movement. The wards around the manor pulsed faintly, an almost imperceptible hum in the still night air. Breaking through them would be tricky, but not impossible. Not for him.

He’d spent weeks planning this. Weeks of arguing with Evan and Regulus, who’d both told him it was reckless, idiotic, and entirely predictable. To stay hidden, stay safe, wait on Dumbledore’s word before revealing themselves. But he had spent weeks of pacing, of running scenarios through his mind until they blurred together, all leading to this moment. If Regulus could act foolishly, could risk his life for a bloody necklace, in the name of love- he could too. He could almost hear Evan’s dry voice in his head: “You’ll get yourself killed over this. Over her.”

Maybe he would. But Barty had never been one for caution.

He rolled his shoulders, drawing his wand from the holster at his side. The wards were impressive, layered and intricate, but Barty wasn’t the brightest wizard of his age for nothing. He murmured the incantation under his breath, his wand tracing precise, deliberate movements. The magic buzzed against his skin as the wards flickered, then shimmered, leaving a narrow opening just wide enough for him to slip through.

Barty exhaled slowly, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips as he straightened. “Still got it,” he muttered to himself, tucking his wand away. His heart pounded as he moved swiftly toward the manor, his footsteps silent on the frost-covered grass. Every shadow felt like a threat, every creak of the night amplified in his mind, but he pressed on. He had to.

The manor was just as it was days ago: grand, imposing, and utterly devoid of warmth. The windows glinted like cold eyes in the moonlight as he approached the side entrance. He pressed his hand against the ancient stone, muttering a soft Alohomora. The lock clicked, the heavy door swinging open just enough for him to slip inside.

The silence inside was deafening. Barty’s sharp green eyes darted around the darkened hallway, his hand brushing the wand at his side as he moved deeper into the house. He knew the layout by heart, every twist and turn, every creaky floorboard that could give him away. He’d never admit why. 

You weren't home yet, he knew that. You would be out, somewhere between here and the heart of London, allowing Remus and his loyal mutt to lick your wounds. To shower you in the attention you deserved; it happened every month. 

The air in your room was heavy with stillness, broken only by the faint rustle of Barty’s cloak as he stepped inside. His sharp green eyes darted around, taking in every detail like a thief cataloging stolen treasures. He closed the door softly behind him, his hand lingering on the worn brass handle before he turned to face the room fully.

It was smaller than he’d imagined for someone with your spirit, but it felt... intimate. Lived in. The faint scent of your perfume lingered in the air, subtle and familiar, wrapping around him like a ghost of your presence. He inhaled deeply, his chest tightening as the ache in his chest grew sharper.

His boots barely made a sound against the plush rug as he crossed the room, his movements slow and deliberate. His fingers brushed against the edge of your desk, tracing the worn wood where years of use had smoothed the surface. Quills and parchment were scattered haphazardly, alongside an open book marked with a ribbon. He didn’t look at the title- he couldn’t bring himself to. It felt like prying, even for him.

Instead, his gaze moved to the bed, the center of the room, and something primal stirred in him. The duvet was slightly rumpled, as though you’d thrown it off in haste that morning. The pillow bore the faintest indent, a shadow of where your head had rested. His breath hitched, and he found himself moving closer, his chest tightening with every step.

He hesitated, standing at the edge of the bed, his fists clenching at his sides. He shouldn’t be here. He knew that. Knew that stepping into this space, touching these pieces of you, was a line he shouldn’t cross. But he couldn’t help himself.

Slowly, cautiously, he reached out, his fingertips brushing against the edge of the duvet. The fabric was soft beneath his touch, and the scent of your perfume was stronger here, mingling with something uniquely you. It made his head swim, his grip on reality faltering for a moment as he let himself sink into the feeling.

Before he could stop himself, he leaned down, his face hovering just above the pillow. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, and the scent hit him like a spell- intoxicating, comforting, overwhelming. It was almost too much, a cruel reminder of everything he’d lost and everything he couldn’t let go of.

Barty’s jaw tightened as he straightened, his hand gripping the bedpost for support. His chest heaved with uneven breaths, the storm of emotions threatening to swallow him whole. Get it together, he thought bitterly, raking a hand through his hair. You’re here for a reason.

But even as the thought crossed his mind, his fingers betrayed him, reaching out to trace the edge of your pillow, the line where your head had rested. His touch was light, almost regretful, as though he were afraid to disturb the memory of you. 

“Pathetic,” he muttered to himself, his voice low and bitter. The sound barely broke the silence of the room, but it felt deafening in his ears. He straightened abruptly, stepping back from the bed as though it had burned him.

He turned away, his fists clenching at his sides as he tried to pull himself back from the edge. But the damage was done. The scent of you lingered in his lungs, the feel of your presence etched into his skin. He wanted to hate himself for it- for the way his obsession consumed him, for the way he clung to every scrap of you like a lifeline. But he couldn’t.

Because even now, as he stood in your room, surrounded by the echoes of your life, he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you’d looked at him once. Like he was worth something. Like he wasn’t the monster he’d become.

The room was dark, save for the faint silvery glow of moonlight streaming through the curtains, painting the walls in cold shadows. Barty crouched in the corner, his sharp green eyes trained on the door, his breath quiet and measured. The faint scent of your perfume still clung to the air, wrapping around him like a ghost, making his chest ache with a longing so sharp it bordered on pain.

His fingers itched to touch something- anything that belonged to you. He had resisted so far, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, but it took everything he had. His eyes drifted back to the bed, the faint indentation on the pillow where your head had rested the night before. He wanted to crawl into that space, to feel the warmth you left behind, to lose himself in the memory of you.

The soft creak of the stairs snapped him out of his reverie, his body tensing instinctively. His heart leapt into his throat as he heard the faint sound of your footsteps approaching, each one measured and deliberate. You were home. 

Barty’s breath hitched as the doorknob turned, and the door swung open. There you stood, silhouetted by the faint light of the corridor, your features softened by the glow. His chest tightened as he drank in the sight of you, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts he couldn’t untangle. 

You didn’t see him. You moved with the ease of someone who thought they were alone, stepping inside and locking the door behind you with a quiet click. Your wand was set on the bedside table, your movements efficient but unhurried. 

He watched, silent and still, as you turned toward the window, your hands reaching for the heavy curtains. The moonlight illuminated your face, catching on the delicate curve of your cheek, the faint furrow of your brow. You looked tired, worn down, and the sight of it made something in him twist painfully. He hated that you felt this way- hated that he couldn’t be the one to fix it.

You turned your back to him, and instinct took over. Before he could think, before he could stop himself, he moved. His hand shot out, clamping over your mouth, the heat of your skin searing his palm like a brand.

You reacted instantly, your body jerking against his hold. He felt your muscles tense, your sharp intake of breath, the fight that surged through you. Before he could say anything, before he could explain, you threw your head back with a force that stunned him.

The crack of your skull against his nose was sharp and jarring, pain exploding across his face. His grip faltered, and he staggered back, a groan tearing from his throat as blood began to trickle between his fingers. 

"Bloody hell," he muttered, his voice rough and muffled as he pressed a hand to his nose. He leaned against the wall for support, the metallic tang of blood sharp on his tongue. "Star, that's twice now. Are you always this violent, or am I special?"

Your wide eyes locked on him, your breath coming in shallow gasps. He saw the disbelief in your expression, the way your body trembled with a mixture of fear and fury. "No," you whispered, shaking your head as if trying to dispel the sight before you. "No. You’re- You’re supposed to be dead."

The words cut deeper than the blow to his face, but he forced a grin, blood staining his teeth. "I think we should talk," he said, his voice low, laced with something almost pleading.

The way you looked at him, as though he was a ghost- something you couldn’t decide whether to fear or pity- made his stomach churn. He had imagined this moment a hundred times, a thousand, but never like this. Never with you looking at him like he was something monstrous.

“I’m here,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost gentle. “I’m alive.”

But the way you stepped back, your hands trembling at your sides, told him that wasn’t enough. And for the first time in his life, Barty Crouch Jr. didn’t know how to fix it.

~~~

Your heart was throbbing at the rate of a hummingbird. What could you do? What would you do? How did he get in here? How did he pass the wards? He watched your eyes dart to the bedside table. He let out a low sigh, almost annoyed, as if he had thought this through a million times over.

“Star..” He warned carefully but you didn't think to heed any warning, running over to try and retrieve your wand. He didn't move, didn't stop you, as you grabbed the beautifully carved wood and held it out to him. The line was clear; no further.

But Barty never listened.

He stepped closer, slowly inching close and allowing the wand to press to his chest. As if begging you to do it- strike him down- because you were the only person who could bring upon his downfall. Could break him down in ways no one else could, and seeing you again, seeing you look at him with nothing but fear in your eyes, it was all the same. Immeasurable pain.

Some people trace scars. When they appear on the flesh of loved ones cherished beyond belief. Running the soft pad of their finger along the marks that were not made by them. Some would even bring their lips to the bundled and protruding skin as if a kiss could ease them into tender health. Promoting its repair.

But the look in your eyes was like watching your fingers curl inwards. Unbeknownst to you through ignorance or arrogance that he mirrored onto you it didn't matter. It was feeling your nails break into the skin, reclaiming his wounds as ones to remember you by, no one else. 

There was no bandage, there was no healing. Just a repeated daggering that left him on his knees in prayer to any higher being that you would forgive him. That you would see mercy for him.

If not that, then dagger him to something unrepairable. Something only you could recognize the madness behind. Your design.

You trembled, and his eyes softened, slightly as his hand ran over your wrist as it held the wand. “Barty-” You warned and he gave a low sigh, as if you saying his name physically affected him.

Barty’s lips quirked into a weak, almost self-deprecating smile as his fingers brushed your wrist. His touch was featherlight, as though he were afraid that the smallest pressure would cause you to shatter. “Say it again,” he whispered, his voice rough, almost raw. “My name. Say it again.”

You flinched at his words, at the sheer vulnerability in his tone. He looked at you like he was dying and you were the reaper, like you were the last thing tethering him to whatever humanity he had left- or ready to take him away from it. And for a moment- just a moment- you faltered. Your grip on your wand trembled, and the air between you felt impossibly heavy.

“Don’t,” you managed, your voice shaking but firm enough to keep the distance between you. “Don’t do this. Don’t make me-” Your words broke off, caught in the tangle of emotions that constricted your throat. You couldn’t finish. Not with him standing so close, with his sharp green eyes piercing through every wall you’d tried to build.

He tilted his head, his expression softening into something unrecognizably tender. “Don’t make you what?” He murmured, stepping even closer, until the tip of your wand pressed more firmly against his chest. He didn’t stop. He didn’t flinch. “Hate me? Forgive me? Love me again?”

Your breath hitched, and Barty caught it. He always did. His smirk wavered, his lips pressing into a thin line as he leaned in, just enough that his voice dropped to a whisper. “You don’t hate me,” he said, his tone laced with certainty. “You can’t.”

The tears stinging at the corners of your eyes betrayed you, and you cursed yourself for the way your chest ached at his words. “You don’t know me,” you said, though your voice wavered. “Not anymore.”

Barty’s smile faltered, his expression flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. Regret? Pain? Desperation? All of it. “I know you better than anyone,” he replied quietly. “And I know I don’t deserve it, but I need you to hear me. Just this once.”

Your grip on your wand tightened, your knuckles whitening as the tremor in your hand betrayed your composure. “Barty,” you warned again, your voice stronger now. “I swear to Merlin, if you take one more step-”

But he did. Of course, he did. He always did.

“I won’t stop,” he said, his voice soft but resolute. His hand slid up your arm, carefully, deliberately, until his fingers brushed the edge of your wand. He gently pushed it aside, though his touch was more a suggestion than a demand. “Not until you know. Not until you understand.”

“Understand what?” You snapped, anger finally breaking through the cracks of your composure. You stepped back, creating a sliver of distance between you, though your wand remained at your side, trembling. “That you lied to me? That you made me believe you were someone you weren’t?”

“I never lied to you,” Barty said, his voice sharp but not unkind. He stepped closer again, closing the distance you’d tried to create, his green eyes blazing with something fierce, unrelenting. “I just didn’t tell you everything.”

You scoffed, the sound bitter as it escaped your lips. “That’s not better, Barty. That’s not-”

“It was to protect you,” he interrupted, his voice rising just enough to cut you off. The words were urgent, desperate, spilling from his lips before he could stop them. “Everything I did- everything I became- it was all for you. To keep you safe.”

“Safe?” you repeated, your voice cracking as you glared at him. “From what? From you?”

“No,” he said immediately, his voice firm. “From them. From him.” His hand rose to his sleeve, and in one swift motion, he pushed it up to reveal the dark, jagged mark etched into his forearm. The Dark Mark.

Your breath caught, your chest tightening as your gaze locked onto the cursed symbol. The sight of it sent a wave of nausea rolling through you, and you stumbled back, your free hand flying to your mouth. Reminded of the night you found it, the pain of knowing the man you loved had sworn himself to a monster.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice breaking as he reached for you again. “Don’t look at me like that. Please.”

You shook your head, tears streaming freely down your cheeks now. “You chose this,” you choked out, your voice thick with betrayal. “You chose him. You chose them.”

“I chose you,” Barty said, his voice trembling but resolute. He dropped his sleeve, his hands falling to his sides as he stepped closer again, his green eyes burning with intensity. “Every choice I made, every risk I took- it was all for you. To keep you out of their reach. To keep you alive.”

You stared at him, your heart warring with your mind, every emotion crashing into you all at once. Love. Hate. Pain. Longing. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me,” you said finally, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and sorrow. “You don’t get to destroy yourself and call it love.”

The words struck him harder than any spell ever could. Barty’s shoulders sagged, his breath hitching as he struggled to find the right words. But there weren’t any. There never were.

“You were my everything,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “You still are. And I don’t know how to stop loving you.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of his confession hanging between you like a fragile thread, ready to snap.

And then, for the first time, you didn’t look away.

“What do you want from me, Barty?” You asked, your voice breaking. “What do you want me to do?”

His chest rose and fell as though breathing itself had become an effort, and for the first time, you saw just how deeply cracked his facade was. This wasn’t the boy who had charmed his way into your life with a grin and a joke. This was someone breaking apart before you.

“What do you want from me, Barty?” You asked again, your voice cracking. “What do you need me to do? Because I can’t keep doing this.”

He hesitated, his lips parting as though the words were caught in his throat. Finally, he exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his fingers trembling. “I need you to listen,” he said softly, his voice rough. “Just… listen.”

You didn’t lower your wand, but the strength in your arm faltered. “Fine,” you said, your tone hard but brittle. “Talk.”

Barty took a cautious step closer, testing the fragile space between you. “He’s got eyes on you,” he murmured, the words weighted with urgency. “Voldemort. Now that he thinks I’m gone, there’s nothing stopping him from... from- ” His voice broke off, his teeth clenching as he struggled to continue. “From using you. Hurting you.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t lower your wand. “Why?” you demanded, your voice sharp. “Why would he care about me? I have nothing to do with him or his war.”

Barty hesitated, his jaw tightening as he avoided your gaze. “Because of me,” he admitted finally, his voice low. “Because... he knows.”

Your heart sank, the room spinning as his words settled over you. “What does he know, Barty?” you demanded, your voice rising as panic seeped in. “What did you tell him?”

“I didn’t tell him anything,” Barty snapped, his frustration flaring. He ran a hand through his hair again, his movements agitated. “He saw it. In my mind. The moment we met. He knew about you before I could even- ” He cut himself off, swallowing hard. “He knew everything.”

You stared at him, your grip on your wand trembling. “And you let him? You let him see me?”

“Do you think I had a choice?” Barty shot back, his voice rising. His green eyes burned as he stepped closer, his desperation bleeding through. “You don’t know what it’s like, Star. You don’t know what he can do. He doesn’t just ask for loyalty- he takes everything.”

Your mind raced, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place with a sickening clarity. “And that’s why you took the mark,” you murmured, the realization hitting you like a blow. “You didn’t do it for him. Or the war. You did it for me.”

Barty’s face twisted, a mix of guilt and defiance flashing across his features. “No,” he said quickly, too quickly. “It wasn’t just for you. It was for Evan. For Regulus. For all of us.”

“Don’t lie to me, Barty,” you snapped, your voice trembling with anger and grief. “Not now. Not after everything.”

His shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him as he exhaled shakily. “Fine,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yes. He saw you. I did it for you. Because I thought... I thought if I could keep him away from you, if I could make him think I was loyal, he wouldn’t... he wouldn’t touch you.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening as the weight of his confession settled over you. “You don’t get to make that choice for me,” you said, your voice trembling. “You don’t get to destroy yourself and call it love.” You repeated

Barty flinched, his green eyes glistening as he took another step closer. “I didn’t know what else to do,” he said, his voice breaking. “I couldn’t lose you. Not to him. Not to anyone.”

The silence between you stretched, heavy and suffocating. You could feel the tears stinging at your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “You already lost me,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “The moment you chose him, you lost me.”

Barty’s breath hitched, his hands trembling at his sides. “I never stopped loving you,” he said, his voice raw. “Not for a second. And I know you still- ”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, your voice sharp. “Don’t say it. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

For a moment, Barty looked like he might argue, like he might push further. But then he stepped back, his shoulders slumping as he ran a hand over his face. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “For everything.”

The tears spilled over now, and you hated yourself for it. Hated that even after everything, part of you still ached for him. “You should go,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “Before I do something I can’t take back.”

Barty nodded slowly, his green eyes locking onto yours one last time. “I’ll protect you,” he said, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hands. “Even if you hate me for it.”

And then he turned, disappearing into the hall and leaving you struggling out in open water. He obeyed you, not out of fear, but out of feelings you were sure he didn't quite know anymore.

~~~

The morning crept in through the curtains far too soon, dragging the remnants of another sleepless night with it. Your body ached with exhaustion, every muscle heavy with the weight of your restless mind. Barty’s words echoed endlessly in your head, each one a thread in a web of fear and confusion that left no room for peace. The silence of the room pressed in around you, thick and suffocating.

A soft rustle at the window broke through your haze. Blinking, you turned your head toward the sound, your heart leaping when you saw a familiar figure perched on the sill. The owl was regal, its feathers sleek and chestnut brown, with intelligent golden eyes that seemed to hold secrets of their own. You recognized it immediately- it had once belonged to your father before he passed it on to James.

“Still taking care of them all, huh?” You murmured, forcing a faint smile as you slid out of bed. The owl hooted softly, extending its leg with a delicate flourish, the parchment tied securely with a ribbon bearing Lily’s familiar touch. 

Your fingers trembled as you untied the letter, smoothing the folds before sinking onto the edge of the bed to read.  Only to hear your family owl flutter its way over to perch on your nightstand, as if to comfort you.

My dearest Bam, 

First of all, don’t you dare scold me for calling you that. I know you will. You always do. But it's better then writing out Bambi, isn't it? I guess I've written it anyway.

I need you to come to the Burrow in a week. I'll send Remus. Dumbledore has requested all the Potters be there, and yes, that includes you. Don't ask- I haven't a clue.

I told James, of course, and now he’s stress-pacing through the living room like a caged lion. He’s muttering about plans, protective wards, and Merlin knows what else. You know how he gets. Sirius is egging him on, naturally. I’m tempted to hex them both just for some peace and quiet, but that would probably just encourage them.

Now, onto more important matters- I miss you. I miss our late-night chats in the Gryffindor common room, our stolen hours in the library when we swore we were studying but mostly just gossiped. I miss sneaking into the kitchens with you-Remus- and giggling like children when the house-elves indulged us. It feels like a lifetime ago, doesn’t it? Merlin, we're old now.

Speaking of nostalgia, Harry had his first broom ride last week. James insisted on letting him try it without any help, and you can imagine how that went. He was fearless, of course, but I nearly fainted when he wobbled mid-air. He’s fine- better than fine, actually. He’s already got James convinced he’s the next great Potter Seeker. Merlin help us all. Mark my words, if Sirius brings him Quidditch gear next I will not be responsible for what I do to him.

He keeps asking when you'll visit next. Well, as much as a tiny still developing human can ask anything coherent. He's been pulling down your picture frames and bringing them to James. Like he does with his toys, pointing and grabbing at them before James waves his wand and they appear in front of him. I wonder if he thinks bringing the frame to James enough times, he'll magically make you appear next.

Enough of that, I'm already watery eyed.

Promise me you’ll be good, alright? Or at least try. I know you better than anyone, and I know you’ll do whatever you think is right, even if it’s reckless. Just remember that we love you. Always. 

Take care of yourself, Bambi. We’ll see you soon.  

All my love,  

Lily 

The parchment trembled in your hands as you read and reread Lily’s words, each line feeling like a small dagger pressing into your chest. The warmth of her affection radiated from the letter, but it was bittersweet- filling you with longing and an ache so deep it felt like a chasm you could never cross.

Your gaze drifted to the family owl perched on the window sill, its soft coos filling the silence of the room. Your hand absentmindedly ran over its feathers, seeking comfort in the familiar presence. 

A part of you wanted to crumble under the weight of the letter, to curl up and let the tide of emotions wash over you until there was nothing left. But you couldn’t. Not when you knew that in a week, you’d be surrounded by the same faces you’d worked so hard to avoid. The thought of stepping back into that world- one you had once belonged to so effortlessly- made your heart clench.

You tucked the letter carefully into the drawer beside your bed, as though hiding it could also hide the feelings it unearthed. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you sank back onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling. Memories of Lily’s laughter, James’s boisterous teasing, Sirius’s sharp wit, and Remus’s steady presence flooded your mind. 

You had been running from them.

You rarely spoke to James or Lily, but you allowed Sirius to come every Friday to take you dancing with Remus. Even then, you were reserved. And some Fridays, the order owned them not you.

But next Friday, you would belong to the order two. And what was the best next step? Tell people about Barty? While there was still a mole in the mix? Who could you trust to be honest with? And what was this meeting about?

You were scared.

Guess you'd have to learn later.

~~~

The familiar crack of Apparition left you dizzy, but as the quirky silhouette of the Burrow shimmered into view, a sense of calm enveloped you. Its crooked floors and impossible towers defied logic yet promised the safety and warmth you’d been missing for months. The mismatched windows glowed golden against the cool evening sky, and the scent of fresh bread mingled with the soft rustle of the garden. You glanced at Remus as he steadied himself with his cane, the faintest hint of amusement on his face.

“Don’t let Molly rope you into shelling peas,” Remus quipped, his tone dry but playful. 

“I’ll take a chore over watching you sulk in a corner,” you retorted, the light in your eyes softening the jab. 

The moment you stepped through the door, the Burrow’s chaos welcomed you. Molly’s sharp voice called from the kitchen, “…and if you two so much as breathe near those pastries-” followed by the muffled laughter of Fred and George. Arthur’s chuckle drifted from the sitting room, the newspaper in his hands quivering as he fought to keep a straight face. The air smelled of herbs and roasted chicken, spiced with a coziness that made the tension in your chest ease.

Sirius was the first to notice you, his bark of laughter echoing through the room. Before you could react, he wrapped you in a bear hug that left you breathless, his leather jacket cool against your cheek.

“About time, Bambi,” Sirius grinned, his stormy eyes glittering. “Just have to get ol Albus to get you outside that house, huh?”

“Sirius, you’re crushing me!” You wheezed, though the laughter bubbling in your chest betrayed you.

“Good.” He pulled back slightly, his hands gripping your shoulders as he scanned your face. “Someone’s gotta remind you that there’s more to life than brooding.” He winked before ruffling your hair and stepping aside for the next assault.

James bounded forward, his grin wide enough to light the room. “You look like you’ve been through the wars,” He teased, pulling you into a warm embrace. “I was this close to just picking you up on my broom.”

“Absolutely not,” you shot back, though your smile mirrored his.

“You’re lucky I didn’t leave you on the doorstep,” James added, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Molly made pie, and I’m not sharing.”

Before you could retort, Lily appeared, her arms wrapping around you like a blanket of comfort. “Ignore him,” She murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re here. That’s all that matters.”

Her soft perfume, floral with a hint of vanilla, wrapped around you as she stepped back. “Harry���s over there,” She said, gesturing to a wicker basket by the hearth.

Your heart leapt at the sight of the tot. His bright green eyes locked onto yours as you approached, his chubby arms reaching out as if he recognized you. Lifting him into your arms, you marveled at how heavy he felt, how much he’d grown. His giggles drowned out the room’s noise, pulling a smile to your lips that you hadn’t felt in weeks.

“Miss him, don’t you?” Peter’s voice startled you. He leaned casually against the wall, his smile tight and fleeting.

“I do.” You admitted, cradling Harry closer. “He’s gotten so big.”

Behind you, Remus chuckled softly, his gaze flickering between the chaotic twins and the steaming kettle on the stove. “Be careful.” He murmured as he passed. “They’ll have you doing dishes if you’re not quick enough to disappear.”

The twins erupted in mock outrage at something Molly had said, darting past you and narrowly avoiding a hex she threw their way. Arthur peeked over his paper, his warm eyes crinkling as he muttered, “Boys will be boys.”

The house itself seemed alive, its wooden beams creaking with the rhythm of laughter and footsteps. A cuckoo clock on the wall chimed cheerfully, its tiny bird flapping its wings as if to join the fun. In the corner, a knitting needle clicked furiously away on a half-finished jumper, abandoned but determined to finish its work. The scent of molasses and butter floated in from the kitchen, promising a feast.

Sirius plopped onto the couch beside you, his arm slinging casually over the backrest. “I’ll trade you one Harry cuddle for a slice of pie,” He offered, waggling his eyebrows.

“You’re insufferable,” You muttered, but you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips.

“I learned from the best,” He cheeked with a grin, gesturing toward James, who was now teasing Lily about her perfectly sliced carrots. 

“And they are the same size! By the time you're done, Molly will have finished the roast!”

“Eff off Potter.”

“No can do, Potter.”

You gave a small laugh at their exchange and relented, handing Harry over to his god father and leaning slightly into his side as Harry cooed out at the disturbance. He reached for you still, making Sirius gasp in offense. 

He held Harry up dramatically, looking into his tiny, chubby-cheeked face with mock outrage. "Et tu, Harry? Betraying me for her already? And here I thought I was your favorite."

Harry babbled something unintelligible, flailing his little arms in a way that made Sirius grin even wider. “That’s right,” he said. “Tell her she’ll have to fight me for you.”

You rolled your eyes, reaching out to gently stroke Harry’s soft, tufty hair. “You’re too much.” You scoffed, though there was no hiding the affection in your voice. 

“Much to love,” Sirius quipped, cradling Harry in one arm while dramatically gesturing to the room with the other. “That’s what they all say.”

“Sure, Pads,” James called from the kitchen, his voice muffled but dripping with amusement. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Sirius turned to you, feigning a wounded look. “See what I deal with? You’re my only ally in this house of betrayal.”

“Careful, Black.” You teased, leaning closer with a smirk. “You’re starting to sound like a drama queen.”

He gasped, clutching Harry to his chest like a damsel in distress. “How dare you? In front of my godson, no less!”

Harry giggled at Sirius’s antics, his tiny fingers tangling in Sirius’s hair. You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound of it startling you. It felt so easy here, so natural, as though the weight of everything you’d been carrying had lifted just for a moment.

Across the room, Lily smiled warmly at the scene, her hands busy stirring a pot on the stove. “You’re good with him,” she called softly, catching your eye. 

You gave a small, sheepish shrug. “He’s an easy one to love.”

The warmth in Lily’s expression deepened as she turned back to her cooking. “He is.”

The door to the kitchen swung open, and Molly emerged with a flurry of activity, her wand directing plates and utensils to the dining table. “Dinner’s almost ready, everyone! And no-” she pointed sharply at William and Charlie, who froze mid-sneak toward the cooling pies. “you may not have dessert first.”

“Worth a shot,” William muttered, retreating with a grin.

As the household settled into a rhythm of setting the table and filling glasses, Remus appeared at your side, his cane tapping softly against the wooden floor. His sharp gaze swept the room, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he took in the bustling scene. 

“Feels a bit like the old days, doesn’t it?” He murmured, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You nodded, your chest tightening with bittersweet nostalgia. “It does. I almost forgot what this kind of chaos felt like.”

Remus’s smile grew, though his eyes remained thoughtful. “Sometimes it’s good to forget. Just for a little while.”

Before you could respond, Sirius leaned over, handing Harry back to you with exaggerated care. “Here’s your little prince, m’lady.” He mused, bowing dramatically. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to defend my honor against Potter in a round of ‘who can eat the most Yorkshire puddings.’”

“Is that even a real game?” You smirked, raising an eyebrow.

“It is now,” James called from the table, already rolling up his sleeves like he was preparing for battle. “Lily, make it official.”

“I’m not indulging this,” Lily replied, though there was a fondness in her tone that betrayed her amusement. “Molly, you can't allow this.”

“I'll make more.” Molly tutted as Lily gave a scandalized laugh.

Sirius shot you a wink before bounding off, leaving you holding Harry as the chatter of the Burrow surrounded you. For a moment, you let yourself soak in the warmth of it all- the laughter, the clatter of plates, the way Harry’s tiny hand curled around your finger as he gurgled contentedly. Just turned one, what a milestone.

Remus stayed beside you, his quiet presence a steady anchor amidst the chaos. “You look like you’re exactly where you need to be,” he said softly, his gaze steady and kind.

You glanced down at Harry, then back up at Remus, and for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to believe it might be true. 

“Now.” He chuckled, tilting his head to the table. “Let's eat, yeah?”

“Mhm.” You mused and pulled Harry closer to your chest. Smiling as the toddler fell asleep the second you hit your seat between Peter and Sirius. As if last night never happened.

~~~

The warm chatter of the meal eventually faded as the last of the plates were cleared. Molly, ever the matron of order, bustled about with a flick of her wand, sending dishes to the sink where they began scrubbing themselves. The sound of forks and knives being charmed into their proper drawers blended with the soft hum of conversation as everyone settled into a comfortable post-meal haze.

Harry, still nestled in your arms, snored softly, his tiny chest rising and falling as he slept. Sirius had returned to his spot beside you, grinning smugly from his victory over James in their self-made pudding contest.

"I told you, Potter," Sirius drawled, stretching his arms behind his head. "There's no defeating me when it comes to food. Or charm. Or- well, anything, really."

James scoffed, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated groan. “I let you win, Black. Lily told me not to embarrass you in front of Harry.”

“Likely story,” Sirius quipped, tossing a sugar cube at him.

The energy in the Burrow began to shift. The cheerful chaos mellowed into a quiet murmur, and the adults started to exchange glances that carried weightier thoughts. The air thickened, anticipation weaving its way through the room like an unspoken spell. You shifted uncomfortably in your chair, cradling Harry as he slept against your chest, his tiny hand clutching a fold of your robe.

Sirius tapped his fingers idly against his arm, a slight frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. “He’s late.” He muttered under his breath, glancing toward the door.

“He’s Dumbledore,” Remus mused calmly, though his hand tightened slightly around his cane as he leaned back in his chair. “He’s always late, and it’s always for a reason.”

James glanced at Lily, who was tidying up near the sink, and gave a pointed look. She sighed, wiping her hands on a dishtowel and flicking her wand to send the rest of the dishes to the sink. “All right,” she said softly. “Let’s move to the livingroom, yeah?”

As if on cue, a soft pop echoed from the front of the house. The sound startled Harry awake, and his sleepy whimper drew a protective reflex from you, soothing him with quiet whispers as the others stood.

Dumbledore entered the room moments later, his presence commanding yet serene. His bright blue eyes swept the room, lingering briefly on each face before landing on yours. “Good evening, everyone,” He greeted warmly, his voice carrying a calm authority that settled some of the tension.

“Evening, Albus,” Arthur said, rising to shake his hand. “I hope your journey wasn’t too troublesome.”

“Not at all, Arthur,” Dumbledore replied, his gaze flickering to you and the sleeping Harry. “I see we have young company.”

You felt everyone’s attention shift toward you, and you carefully handed Harry to Lily, who had stepped forward to take him. “Thank you,” she murmured, brushing her son’s hair back before retreating to the other room to settle him in his crib.

Dumbledore motioned for everyone to sit, and Molly hastily brought over a fresh pot of tea, her hands fluttering nervously. “Would you like some, Albus?”

“No, thank you, Molly,” he replied kindly, taking his place at the head of the table. “Time is of the essence tonight.”

Lily reentered the room just as Dumbledore spoke, her expression soft but slightly guarded as she took her seat beside James. “He’s sleeping,” she whispered simply, glancing toward the closed door to reassure herself.

The room fell silent as everyone waited for him to speak. Dumbledore’s gaze moved across the table, his usual twinkle dimmed with the weight of the news he carried. “It is with a heavy heart,” he began, “that I must inform you of Voldemort’s latest focus. James, Lily, and Harry have been targeted. As for your current hide out.. it has been uncovered.”

A ripple of tension swept through the room, but Dumbledore held up a hand to forestall interruptions. “The protections we’ve worked tirelessly to create have been completed. The blood ward surrounding your next safe house is now fully functional. It is imperative that you move there immediately.”

James straightened in his seat, his expression hardening with determination. “We’ll go tonight,” he said firmly, looking to Lily for confirmation. She nodded, her hand finding his under the table.

Dumbledore turned his gaze to you, his expression softening slightly. “And you, my dear. It seems he is not stopping until the entirety of the Potter bloodline is destroyed.”

Your heart clenched as the words sank in. You carefully fluttered your eyes closed. Placing your hand over your side, as if not looking at anyone would protect you from leering eyes. You heard a sharp breath fall over the table and felt Sirius reach for you on instinct, grabbing your arm a bit rough.

Dumbledore gave you a small nod, his expression filled with sympathy and sorrow. “The new safe house will protect you three,” He reassured. “The wards are among the strongest ever created. However, you must not leave its boundaries until further notice. Voldemort’s reach grows stronger every day.”

“And my sister?” James started and leaned forward in his seat, when your eyes finally braved the crowd and landed on him, you saw his flushed cheeks. His desperate eyes. Only to Dumbledore to hold his hand up, as if to say arrangements have been made.

The room fell into a heavy silence as everyone absorbed the gravity of the situation. Molly’s hands twisted in her lap, her usual warmth subdued by worry. Sirius broke the silence, his voice low but firm. “We’ll keep them safe, Albus. Whatever it takes.”

Dumbledore’s gaze lingered on him for a moment before he nodded. “I know you will, Sirius. This being said.. there is the matter of where this information comes from.”

You felt Sirius reach over and place his hand softly on your hand, squeezing it as he made eye contact with James from across the table. Everyone waiting on bated breaths.

Dumbledore’s expression shifted slightly, his fingers steepling as he addressed the group. “The information we’ve uncovered is… credible. But I must warn you, the sources of this intelligence are not without their complications.”

James frowned, his hand tightening around Lily’s. “What does that mean, Albus?”

“It means, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore replied carefully, “That three individuals have offered us this crucial information. Their identities may be… difficult for some of you to accept.”

You felt Sirius tense beside you, his posture straightening as though bracing himself for impact. His fingers still gripped yours, his hold both grounding and protective. Across the table, Remus leaned forward, his hazel eyes narrowing with quiet suspicion.

“Who are they?” Sirius asked, his voice steady but laced with an edge.

Dumbledore gave a small sigh and lifted his hand. With that, the door opened and everyone was made to watch as three figures stepped in, in large cloaks hoods. Gasps filled the room as the figures lowered their hoods, revealing the faces that had long been presumed lost to time and war. 

Standing in the doorway, with a defiant smirk tugging at his lips, was Barty, his sharp green eyes flicking to yours immediately. Beside him, the ever-elegant Evan Rosier, his pale complexion stark against the dark folds of his cloak, stood with his hands in his pockets, his gaze assessing the room with a subtle air of amusement. And on the far left was Regulus Black, his face calm but his silver-grey eyes shadowed with a weariness that spoke of battles waged both out and within.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Despite the pain in your chest and the shutter that ran through you. Your eyes, like everyone else’s, landed on Sirius. The eldest Black son was silent, his expression one of horrific shock. No one noticing how James seemed to stiffen or how Lily covered her mouth with more then just shock in her eyes.

You expected him to shout, to yell, to toss a chair or two, but your breath was taken from your throat when he stood up so quickly his seat toppled over. 

“Mate.” James warned in a stern tone.

“Pads.” Remus huffed, only to watch as Sirius crossed the room quicker than anyone could stop him. Regulus winced and prepared to be struck, only to have the wind knocked out of his lungs as Sirius engulfed him in a hug. Nearly knocking them both over as he buried his face in his younger brother's hair. 

“Pads…” James’s voice softened, unsure of what to say. 

Regulus was caught off guard, his arms hanging limply at his sides for a moment before hesitantly lifting to return the embrace. His movements were stiff, almost unsure, but the faintest flicker of relief passed across his usually stoic features.

Sirius’s voice broke the silence, muffled against Regulus’s shoulder. “You bloody git.” He choked out, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought you were dead.”

Regulus closed his eyes, his own voice steady but low. “I almost was.”

Sirius pulled back slightly, his hands gripping his brother’s shoulders as he scanned his face, as if trying to assure himself that Regulus was really there. “You absolute prat.” He muttered, though the words carried more affection than anger. “Do you have any idea what it’s been like? Thinking I lost you?”

Regulus flinched under Sirius’s intensity but held his gaze. “I didn’t have a choice.” He defended quietly. “I had to make them think I was gone. It was the only way to get out.”

Sirius’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, it seemed like the anger might break through after all. But then he let out a shaky breath, his hands falling away as he stepped back. “You could’ve told me.” He muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “You could’ve… I would’ve helped you.”

Regulus’s expression softened, a rare vulnerability slipping through the cracks in his otherwise composed demeanor. “I…” His voice cracked and he quickly cleared his throat. “I wasn't aware you would… my apologies.” He coughed into his fist and fixed his posture, his voice heavy with regret. “Regardless I didn’t want to drag you into it. You’d already done enough to protect me when we were kids. I couldn’t ask you to risk more.”

The tension in the room shifted, the charged atmosphere replaced by something quieter, heavier. Sirius nodded slowly, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck as he looked away, his emotions still raw and unguarded.

It was Barty who broke the moment, his voice dripping with impatience as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Touching as this reunion is, we don’t exactly have time for tea and biscuits. The Dark Lord isn’t going to pause his plans just because the Black brothers are having a moment.”

Sirius turned on him so quickly that Barty actually stood up straighter, his smirk faltering for just a second. “Shut your mouth, Crouch,” Sirius snarled, his eyes flashing with barely-contained fury. “You’ve got no right to be here. No right to-”

“Enough.” Dumbledore’s calm yet firm voice cut through the tension, his gaze sharp as it moved between Sirius and Barty. “They are here because they have information vital to your safety. Whatever personal grievances you may have will have to wait.”

Sirius’s fists clenched at his sides, but he said nothing, his jaw tight as he returned to his seat. The room remained charged, the weight of the moment pressing down on everyone. His hand going for yours and squeezing it tight, eyeing Barty with a clear threat. Barty’s eyes just stayed on you.

Evan Rosier stepped forward next, his movements languid and unbothered as he glanced around the room with a faint smirk. “Always the dramatic one, aren’t you, Black?” He drawled, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. “Some things never change.”

“Shut it, Rosier.” Lily snapped, glaring at Sirius as he threatened to open his mouth again. “Both of you.”

Sirius’s hand tightened on yours until you turned your palm over and your fingers intertwined. His focus was clearly shifting to Regulus, his emotions warring between relief and frustration.

Regulus shifted uncomfortably under his brother’s lingering gaze but turned his attention. “Albus.” Regulus spoke carefully and the older wizard waved his hand. 

“Do as you must.”

Regulus nodded and turned to Barty, and for once, when you saw him, his eyes drifted right past yours.

“Evan?” Barty mused and cocked his head to the side. “Do you like these seating arrangements?”

“Not my favorite, I have to say.” Rosier smirked and you saw shuffling in your peripheral. Turning, your eyes fell on a nervous looking Peter, who tried to move out of his seat. 

“Peter? Are you alright?” You asked softly and he glanced at you, as pale as a damned ghost.

“Let's fix it Evan.”

“Of course, Crouch.”

The room was heavy with tension as Peter fidgeted in his seat, his nervous energy radiating outward like a beacon. His pale, sweaty face darted between Regulus, Evan, and Barty, who watched him with an air of casual cruelty that made your stomach churn. The faint smirk on Barty’s lips, the lazy confidence in Evan’s posture, and the calculating glint in Regulus’s eyes- it all felt too deliberate, like a game already decided before it began.

“Peter, mate,” Barty began, his tone almost sing-song as he tilted his head. “Why are you so jumpy? We’re all friends here. Aren't we?”

Peter’s hands gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles white. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stammered, his voice breaking as his gaze darted to Sirius for support. “I-I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Nothing wrong?” Evan echoed, his voice low and laced with mockery. He stepped closer to Peter, his movements smooth and predatory, as though he were circling prey. “Is that what we’re calling treachery these days? Nothing wrong?”

Regulus didn’t speak, his gray eyes cold and unflinching as they locked onto Peter’s trembling form. His silence was louder than words, and it carried the weight of judgment.

Sirius stood abruptly, his hand still gripping yours as his stormy eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you talking about?” He snapped, his voice sharp and cutting through the room like a whip. “If you’ve got something to say, say it.”

“Oh, we’ll say it,” Barty drawled, his smirk widening as he leaned back against the wall. His sharp green eyes flicked to you for the briefest moment, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before he turned his attention back to Peter. “But I think actions speak louder than words, don’t you?”

Evan’s smirk mirrored Barty’s as he stepped closer to Peter, who was now visibly shaking. “Let’s show them, shall we?” Evan said, his voice a low murmur that carried a sinister edge.

Peter’s eyes widened in panic, and he shot up from his chair, knocking it over in his haste to back away. “You’re mad,” he stammered, his voice high-pitched and trembling. “I don’t know what you’re on about!”

But he didn’t get far. Regulus moved with startling speed, his wand flicking out in a smooth, practiced motion. “Petrificus Totalus.”

Peter froze mid-step, his body locking in place as he teetered, then fell back into the chair with a heavy thud. His wide, terrified eyes darted around the room, pleading silently as sweat dripped down his face.

Evan leaned over him, his smirk gone, replaced with a look of cold disdain. “This won’t take long,” he murmured, gripping Peter’s arm with surprising strength. With a sharp tug, he rolled up Peter’s sleeve, exposing the pale, trembling flesh of his forearm.

For a moment, there was nothing. Just pale skin, glistening with sweat. But then, like ink bleeding through parchment, a dark, jagged mark began to emerge, etched into Peter’s skin like a brand. The skull and serpent twisted and writhed, as though alive, mocking the room with its sinister presence.

Gasps filled the room, Lily’s fell from her mouth as her wide eyes locked onto the mark. Sirius staggered back a step, his grip on your hand tightening to the point of pain. James stood frozen, his hazel eyes dark with a mixture of shock and fury.

“No,” Sirius whispered, his voice barely audible as his eyes darted between the mark and Peter’s frozen, terrified face. “No. You can’t- this can’t-”

“It can,” Regulus said, his voice cold and steady as he stepped back. His gray eyes met Sirius’s, unflinching. “And it does.”

Barty straightened, his smirk firmly in place as he clapped his hands once, the sound sharp and jarring in the stunned silence. “Well,” he drawled, his tone light and mocking. “I think that clears things up, doesn’t it? Your little rat here has been leaking your secrets to the Dark Lord.”

“No,” Sirius growled, his voice low and dangerous as he advanced on Peter, his body trembling with rage. “You lying, spineless-” He lunged, but James grabbed him, pulling him back with surprising strength.

“Stop, Sirius,” James said, his voice tight with fury as he held his friend back. “Not here. Not now.”

Sirius struggled against James’s grip, his eyes blazing with fury. “Let me go, Prongs. Let me-”

“No!” James snapped, his voice rising as he pushed Sirius back. “Think, Pads. Just think.”

Your breathing was shallow, your vision blurring as the weight of everything crashed down on you. Betrayal from Peter, the looming threat of Voldemort, Barty’s presence- it was too much. The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in around you as your chest tightened.

The tension in the Burrow was palpable, the charged atmosphere crackling like lightning in a storm. Peter’s frozen body remained stiff in the chair, his panicked eyes darting from face to face as though pleading for someone to intervene. Moody had stood quietly for most of the reveal, his magical eye twitching and whirring in his socket, tracking every move. But now, his grizzled face was set in a grim expression, his scarred hands gripping the back of Peter’s chair.

“All right, that’s enough gawking,” Moody growled, his voice cutting through the murmurs and gasps of the room. He yanked Peter upright by his collar, the smaller man letting out a muffled whimper against the binding spell. “This rat’s coming with me. We’ll see what he spills when we squeeze him tight enough.”

“Moody,” James started, his voice trembling with barely suppressed fury. “Make sure he-”

“I know,” Moody snapped, his gaze flickered toward James. “He’s not slipping away.” With a rough tug, he began to drag Peter toward the door, his limp body scraping against the floor.

As the door closed behind Moody, the room fell into an uneasy silence, the weight of Peter’s betrayal and the newest additions settling like a heavy fog. Sirius stood still as a statue, his chest heaving as he glared at the spot where Peter had been. His grip on your hand was almost bruising, and you felt every tremor of his barely-contained fury.

Your heart raced, your breath shallow as you tried to calm yourself. You felt untethered, the world around you spinning out of control. Every pair of eyes in the room seemed to burn into you, their scrutiny suffocating.

And then, of course, he spoke.

“Well,” Barty drawled from his spot near the wall, his voice calm and unbothered as though nothing had happened. “That was dramatic. Bit of a show, wasn’t it?”

Sirius’s head snapped toward him, and before anyone could stop him, he lunged. “You smug-”

“Don’t,” James barked, stepping between them and pressing a firm hand to Sirius’s chest. His hazel eyes burned with a warning as he shoved Sirius back. “Not now.”

Barty’s smirk widened, his green eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched the scene unfold. “Touchy, aren’t we?” He remarked, his tone dripping with mockery.

“Say one more word, Crouch,” Sirius growled, his voice low and dangerous, “and I swear-”

“Enough!” Lily’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. She stood with her arms crossed, her usually warm expression hard with fury. “All of you, just stop.”

The room stilled, but the air remained electric, charged with unspoken accusations and simmering rage. You stood frozen in place, your pulse thundering in your ears as you tried to process everything. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw Barty move.

He stepped forward with a deliberate ease, his sharp green eyes locking onto yours. His smirk was gone, replaced by something colder, heavier. Your breathing sped up.

James noticed, and before Barty could take another step, he slammed his shoulder into him, forcing him back with enough force to make him stagger. “Stay the hell away from her,” James snarled, his voice like steel.

Barty straightened, brushing off his robes with an almost lazy motion. He met James’s glare with a calm, calculated expression, but his eyes flicked back to you, cutting through the room’s tension like a knife. “I wasn’t talking to you, Potter,” he said evenly, his voice carrying an unsettling weight.

Sirius was already moving again, but Remus caught his arm, holding him back with surprising strength. “Don’t,” Remus said quietly, his voice low but firm. 

Barty ignored them all. His attention was entirely on you. His sharp features were illuminated by the dim light of the room, his green eyes blazing with intensity. When he spoke, his voice was low and deliberate, cutting through the chaos like a blade.

“I’ll protect you,” He whispered, his tone steady and unwavering, as though making a solemn vow before the entire room. “Even if you hate me for it.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. His gaze didn’t waver, his presence like a storm that refused to be ignored. It wasn’t a plea. It wasn’t an apology. It was a promise. A threat. A declaration that no one could mistake.

James lunged again, but this time sirius and Remus both held him back. “You bastard!” James snarled, his voice raw with rage. “Stay away from her!”

But Barty didn’t flinch. His eyes remained locked on yours, as if daring you to respond, to refute him, to try and push him away. The weight of his words settled over you, twisting your stomach into knots as you struggled to breathe.

“I don’t need you,” you whispered, your voice trembling but firm enough to carry through the room. “I don’t want you.”

Barty’s smirk returned, faint and humorless, as though your words had no effect. “I see.” he said simply, his tone maddeningly calm. “Seems you'll hate me.”

[star-my]

BTS Fic Recs ☆ Tumblr (iii)

These are all available on tumblr as of April 2024. Some are likely crossposted on ao3 as well.

~Ao3 RECS HERE~ ~Recs (i)~ ~Recs (ii)~

Almost all are complete works, those with “+” after WC are incomplete. Most are BTS x (F!)Reader.

Most of these are Mature or Explicit (usually because of smut) ~ mdni ~ italicized titles rated G or T* ~ Please read responsibly~ ~*I don't believe any of the below fics are rated anything other than M or E, Minors save your time and find other lists :}~

If any authors tagged here wish to be removed/untagged, please lmk!

F2L = friends to lovers ; E2L = enemies to lovers ; FE2L = frenemies to lovers ; R2L = rivals to lovers ; BFB = best friend's brother ; BBF = brother's best friend etc

OT7/Multi

☆ Monster series by @whatifyoulivelikethat | Mafia AU | MYG + JJK | 17k+

☆ Mafia series by @neonlights92 | Mafia AU, Arranged Marriage AU |

Kim Namjoon

☆ Ensnared by @jamaisjoons | F2L Cryptid AU | 17k

☆ Stuttering by @moonlightchildz | Tutor AU, Rapper AU | 11k

☆ Inside my mind by @jimlingss | High School AU, Mind Reader AU | 19k

Kim Seokjin

☆ Birthright by @jimilter | S2L Vampire AU | 18k

Min Yoongi

☆ Sunrises & Liquor series by @aamalaaa | S2F2L Bar AU, 60k

☆ Three tangerines series by @kithtaehyung/@threetangerines, BBF AU | 253k+

☆ Lying that you love me by jeonsjiddies | S2F2L Roommates AU, “Bad Boy” AU | 11k

☆ Dealer series by @borahaerhy | S2L Dealer AU | (ongoing)

☆ Bad cop chronicles by @minisugakoobies | Cop AU, Parent AU | 12k

☆ Poison by @sugaflake | S2L Hookup Pw/oP? | 4k

☆ Seven year itch by @jimlingss | Established Relationship AU | 5k

☆ The early shift series by @hobidreams | E2L Coffee Shop AU, Coworkers AU | 21k

☆ One ring to bind them all, or, just a solitary, cranky demon series by @bts-love-sweat-tears | Demon AU, Arranged Marriage AU, Royal AU | 13k+

Jung Hoseok

☆ The dragon’s princess by @jamaisjoons | Fairytale AU, Dragon AU | 24k

☆ The bodyguard by @sopejinsunflower | Bodyguard AU, Mafia AU | 19k

Park Jimin

☆ The prince’s cinderella syndrome by @jimilter | S2L Uni AU, Fantasy/Supernatural AU | 39k

☆ Headlights by @jeonsjiddies | S2F@L Uni AU, Fboy AU | 15k

Kim Taehyung

☆ Trip by @daechwitatamic | ?2L Camping AU | 22k

☆ Always the bridesmaid by @kookingtae | S2F2L Journalist AU | 34k

Jeon Jungkook

☆ To know you is to love you by @jimilter | S2E2F2L Vampire AU, Supernatural AU | 21k

☆ The sea and the storm by @jamaisjoons | S2F2L Supernatural AU | 20k

☆ Jackrabbit by @jamaisjoons | Uni AU, Hybrid AU | 9k

☆ Ruin you series by @bts-bay-bee | BFF2FWB2L Uni AU | 10k

☆ Mutual by @seokjxnnie | Boss’s Son AU?? | 3k

☆ Cable management series by @19pancakes | S2L | ongoing

☆ Fighter series by @jeon-s-sins | S2F2L Underground Fighter AU | 8k+

☆ Candles & flames series by @taegularities | E2L Royal AU | 100k

☆ Reign series by @nochuobsessed | F2L Royal AU, sort of Arranged Marriage AU | 89k

Werewolf Recs (yeah i went through the phase, sue me)

☆ My Darkness by @missbangtae | Werewolf AU, Uni AU | 10k

☆ Room 109 by @lavishedinjimin | Werewolf AU, Roommates AU | 7k

☆ Scent by @rosesxstories | Werewolf AU, Established Relationship AU | 3k

☆ New beginnings by @gukeobi | E2F2L Werewolf AU | 17k

☆ Knot today by @kinktae | F2L Werewolf AU, Roommates AU | 6k

☆ Claws of carnality series by @jjungkooksthighs | Werewolf AU, Soulmate AU | 93k+

Overall Favourite Authors (If I recc'd all their works like I want to/more than I have, I'd have to make this series even longer >.<)

☆ @1kook‘s masterlist

☆ @jimilter‘s masterlist

happy reading!

[nothoughtsjustficrecs]

This was such a sweet and lovely story! I really do love a good ye olde/ royalty fic 😍

Thank you for writing this wonderful story and sharing it with us!

When I was reading, I decided to write down my thoughts as I go because I knew I'd forget otherwise so below this is literally just the thoughts I wrote down because I do not have the brain power to convert them into actual fully coherent comments [I'll put them below a read more cut for the sake of spoilers and such]

-

“ He was notably excited and couldn’t sit down ” aw bless him

“ He tucked a strand of dark brown hair behind his ear, practically bouncing in his place. ” okay how dare he be so cute and precious tho, this story isn’t about you chan, take a step back (im kidding you’re so cute pls never stop)

“ it was almost two hours ” just the thought of that makes me exhausted omg

“ against his lifelong accomplice, Jeonghan. ” I read “accomplice” as “companion” at first and was like damn, I didn’t know it was that kinda story 😂

“ the bread perfectly golden and risen in small domes ” mm delicious

“ You knew if that happened, neither you or Chan would be allowed to return to the castle. ” I think the punishment would be a bit more severe than that for risking choking the prince, yikes, imagine that shitshow

“ this rustic meal ” nah why does that feel like an insult tho

“ You lay on your back, atop the fountain’s wide stone ledge, listening to the gushing water and staring up at the crescent moon. ” this sounds pretty perfect ngl

“ And right when you felt his lips ghost yours, Seokmin took a step back and you heard a huge fit of laughter erupt from the thick brush in the background. ” what assholes!

“ “Perhaps that cook quite liked you.” ” 😏 perhaps indeed

I love the way you describe stuff btw, I can be real iffy about descriptions sometimes because some people go over the top with it and I get bored, but you manage to paint a picture so effectively that I genuinely feel kind of envious of this character and I want to be her to experience the scenery

“ The next time you saw the Prince, you weren’t going to let him off easy. ” BEAT HIS ASSSSS

“ “you do not deserve my manners,” ” you tell him!

“ “Have you ever been left to wait, darling?” ” SCREAMING

“ “Not immediately, angel.” ” STOP IT, I WILL COMBUST

“ Suddenly, he cupped the sides of your face in his tender hands, urging you forward again, his lips brushing yours in such a gentle manner that a shiver tingled down your spine. ” AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH im fine (im not)

“ Everything felt like it was collapsing around you. ” looks like she’s not fine either, poor baby :((

“ “I refused the marriage to Lady Adelaide. She will return to Markarth before the sunset. I only told my mother and father this morning.” ” ahahhahahaha good

“ “I’m saying that I’m in love with you.” ” SCREECHING OVER HERE

“ “I-I thought I should gift it to you. And, whenever we must be apart, you can just think of this necklace, and the comfort that comes from a firefly’s glow.” ” nooo that’s so cute

⚬ pairing: prince!seokmin x fem!reader ⚬ word count: 12,690 ⚬ warnings: none. ⚬ genre: enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, angst, teasing, some slowburn romance, superfluff toward the end.

✧✎ synopsis: the time has come for prince seokmin to meet his arranged marriage, which forces you to confront a strange predicament: if you truly hate the prince, then why does the thought of him being with someone else hurt this badly?

✧✎ a/n: yeah… i’ve wanted to write some prince!lsm since his excalibur pictures. evidently, i am very late! i hope u enjoy nonetheless :-)

Hiking up the long, heavy layers of your dress, pale and coloured like lilacs, you retrieved a small carving knife that had been clandestinely strapped against your outer thigh. Buried a few feet away from you in the grass was a smooth, palm-sized piece of beech wood, which you quickly picked up before walking back to the bench. You sat down horizontally, stretching out your legs and taking up as much space as possible whilst you started carving down the edges of the beech wood, flicking away the occasional shavings.

Keep reading

[deadhands69]

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Separate Routes: [Tomura Shigaraki x Reader] [Dabi/Touya Todoroki x Reader] You happen to end up with the perfect getaway ride: jumping in a van with the League of Villains. Destination unknown, you join them on a road trip filled with romantic tension, awkward tropes, and, of course, some light crimes. -- generally intended to be shorter/quick reads, lighthearted, no angst -- [complete] [fluff] [wc: 10k]

Oneshots/Headcanons/Requests/etc:

Hitlist [horror//fluff//crack?//vampire!Shigaraki] Reader Loses Their Virginity to Tomura Shigaraki [smut//request] Falling into the Woods in Spring [mothman!Shigaraki//smut] Misunderstandings [fluff] The Exorcism [crack?? fluff?] Nightclub [fluff] Vanilla [smut 🎂] A Small Gift [fluff 🎂] Suprise! [🎂 crack//SMAU] Concrete Dust [fluff] Wounds [fluff//request] Claw Marks [platonic//angst//zombie apocalypse//request] You Started It [fluff//request] Don't Fall in Love With Me [fluff//request] Proposal Fic [fluff] My Hero [angst//fluff] Why is Tomura Shigaraki Kicking You Out of Bed? [crack] Black Coffee [fluff//request] Online Girlfriend [Loser!Shigaraki] [smut//request] Ghost [angst//fluff] Three Words [fluff//event request] Blankets [depression comfort//fluff] In Your Cold Apartment [angst] Attention [smut] Pretty Lights [fluff] You Love It When He Relaxes [smut] Tomura Shigaraki Helps w/a Sex Quirk pt 1 [suggestive] » Tomura Shigaraki Helps w/a Sex Quirk pt 2 [smut]

Loser!Shigaraki x Villain Reader These all exist in the same universe; kept semi-in order

Candy Cane [very suggestive//lightly smutty ❆] Laundry Detergent [very suggestive//lightly smutty] Cute When You Stutter [5 part short Valentine's series] [fluff//smut] [wc: 6.4k]

Fem!Shigaraki

Bra Shopping [fluff//crack?] Claw Machine // Staying In // Girl Dinner [fluff & smut]

Also Featured In:

The Changing

[Class 1-A & Reader; League of Villains] There's something not right in your UA class and you're going to get to the bottom of it. A series of short entries adding up to a short story. [complete + ongoing offshoots] [horror//crack] [wc: 7.8k]

Lights. Camera. Action? [Tomura Shigaraki, Spinner, Dabi x Reader] [crack//very suggestive//lightly smutty]

Headcanons:

Karaoke: League of Villains [crack] Be my Valentine?: League of Villains [crack ❤︎] Tattoos: part 1 [crack] League of Villains Choosing a Holiday Movie [crack ❆] League of Villains Throwing a Holiday Party [crack ❆] » League of Villains Holiday Party: The Aftermath [crack ❆] Sitting by them on a Flight [crack] Escape Room: League of Villains [crack] Concert Dates [fluff//crack] League of Villains on Halloween [crack 👻]

[back to main BNHA masterlist]

[starseungs]

from the past, beyond the present, and into tomorrow. ksm. ( teaser )

kim seungmin x fem!reader — following the last wishes of her beloved grandmother, y/n finds herself moving back to her family's hometown. deep into the countryside and miles away from the bustling noise of the city, the change was supposed to be a new experience. that was, if only the mayor's son didn't bring along years of unknown familiarity with him.

GENRE/S — drama, slight angst, slight fluff, just sentimental, soulmates au, multiple lifetimes, high school au, a slowburn • teaser: 2.1k words (10k+ overall fic)

WARNING/S — y/n gets referred to with she/her pronouns, setting is heavily influenced by japanese environments (but still made vague enough for other preferences), main characters are aged eighteen, possibly more to be added upon release.

NOW PLAYING — tracing that dream by yoasobi

( ✒️ ) this is the product of seungmin covering one of my favorite songs ... now im gonna make him a shoujo anime love interest !!! and yes the teaser is long asf. i, too, am concerned about the total word count of this fic. (road to 20k wc i guess)

( 📌 ) STATUS: UNRELEASED • TAGLIST IS OPEN !

2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

You had dreamt of a specific scene once when you were thirteen.

At least, you were the one who considered it a dream. It was something you had tried to bury in the depths of your mind—locked away in a tiny chest placed in the furthest corner and behind closed doors. If it were someone else, you knew that they would’ve already exhausted all means to figure out what the dream meant.

After all, it certainly wasn’t every day that you got to dream of something that felt so vividly real to the point you could’ve sworn it was a memory.

But it wasn’t. It could never be.

Why?

Because in no reality could an authentic memory be of a time that shouldn’t even exist yet.

“I won’t ask you to congratulate me,” the vessel you were seeing the world through spoke. In the scenario being played out, you could feel yourself smile warmly. You could only guess why the positive action was contrasted by such a somber tone of speaking. “Never once have your eyes lied in front of mine.”

The sound of joyous laughter that surrounded the area almost felt too jarring to compare to the mood present between what was supposed to be you and another male. He sat completely still, unmoving amidst the dim evening despite your earlier comment. Flickers of embers from the sizable-looking campfire reflected in his eyes, telling of the fact that the absence of a response was not because of a lack of focus but rather his inner thoughts getting swallowed up by the burning flames.

His looks would range him older than eleven. Yet, you didn’t seem phased by it—not even in the slightest. Perhaps this was something you should have expected. The voice that came out of you was notably not one of an eleven-year-old either. So you gave up on the matter.

Instead, you waited for an answer to what you had previously uttered. Even if it was just a simple hum that came out of his mouth.

He let the fire crackle a bit more.

“Does it make me a bad man to say that I envy you?”

The breath that you didn’t even know you were holding escaped your lips the second he spoke. “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand what you mean,” was your reply.

The silence came back for a second. Surprisingly, it didn’t seem as heavy as the one you two had just broken. You watched his movements, almost mesmerized, as he took his eyes off the fire. The concentration only faltered when his sight came up to meet yours. “You’re off to go do greater things over in the big city,” he starts. “And yet, here I am, getting left behind in this quiet town. A place not a single soul even yearns for—where everyone starts off but never stays.”

It was odd. The way you felt your heart race at his words.

To be completely honest, you didn’t think much of what he had just said. You didn’t even know exactly what it meant—both for you and for him. Yet, the sudden spike of adrenaline in your veins told a different story. It was making you feel breathless while also making you tear up.

“You could always come with me.”

He shook his head. Did he just reject your offer? “It’s no use. My life’s responsibilities will still lie here. What would I even gain from leaving this place?”

Another beat. You could care less if it was of silence or your heart. In what seemed like a blink, the environment felt too overwhelming for you to function in. It was almost like you were sinking. Down deep to who knows where.

Though muddled, you tried your best to bring yourself back to the forefront by listening to the variety of other sounds outside the small bubble you two had created. Children running around screaming with laughter, adult men howling with amusement at whatever conversation they were in, and a female voice yelling to prepare the fireworks.

How fun. A celebration right next to a brewing storm. All under the same night sky.

“But,” you forced the words out. “You also have your own dreams.” His eyes softened at the mention. The way your heart shattered echoed a little too strongly throughout your body.

“That’s why I’m letting you go like this.” The young male smiled, making sure to let you know it was only directed at you. “So that at least one of us gets to achieve them.”

Your lips quivered. “Why do you speak as if I’m never going to come back for you?”

Silence again. You were beginning to develop an intense dislike for them.

“That’s just the way the world works,” was the response that came to soothe your growing anxiety. “It doesn’t revolve around a certain person. And it certainly doesn’t revolve around me. Go and live the life you want without any regrets. When the time comes that you’ve done everything you’ve wished for in life, come and find me again.”

A shake of a head.

“I could always just stay.”

A weak chuckle.

“Then, neither of us will be able to grow.”

A clench of a hand.

“What if I take too long?”

A minute passes by. You’ve come to really hate these momentary pauses.

He stands up. “There will be no such thing,” the young male assures you, moving closer only to stop at arm's length. You fought the urge to reach out and hold him. “Even if it takes multiple lifetimes, I’ll always be here. Waiting for you.”

“What if you forget about me?”

The world fell into one last hush. Your well-held tears finally started falling one-by-one, just like the first drops of rain. He sighs at your state, taking another step forward.

“I really don’t think I ever will.” He cups your face gently to look at him. “That’s why to you, who my heart will always choose in every lifetime—”

A loud bang. You watched as the fireworks bloomed into the sky through his glistening eyes.

“—Please live well until you come back to me.”

Hushed whispers filled the room.

You should’ve expected this. No matter the place, all high schoolers were bound to be the same, either one way or another. If you really had to make sense of it, your best guess would be that it was simply human for them to act this way. Universal traits are what makes a species. Perhaps you would’ve found it much more uncomfortable if the students in front of you didn’t find your situation interesting. After all, the genuine interest seeping out of those youthful eyes did make the atmosphere a lot lighter. At the end of the day, you could never actually fault them.

Still, enduring the poor attempts of adolescents trying to keep their curiosity hidden for more than a tick of a clock was harder than you thought. A part of you so badly wanted to believe that it was because this whole ordeal was tiring—bothersome, even. Unluckily for you, your brain knew a little bit too much for its own good.

Next to the classroom’s front door, one of your female classmates drops a pen accidentally. You watched it roll down two seats away, only to stop underneath the chair of a guy who was animatedly discussing something with another that was to his right. The latter enthusiastically reciprocated the conversation; his seemingly dominant hand spinning a blue-colored pen while doing so. You balled your hands, only to release them not even a beat later. They felt slightly damp.

You were nervous.

“Settle down now, class!” The homeroom teacher, Mrs. Cheon, ordered. Like well disciplined soldiers, the students quickly ceased all sound. Their undivided attention made you swallow heavily. “Starting today, we have a new addition to our class. Let’s all listen to her introduction.”

Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets at her order—only barely holding back from painting shock all over your face. This was not the plan you were made aware of. You wanted to protest. Throw a tantrum like a little child at the way she had just thrown you into a den filled with lions with no choice but to fend for yourself. Back in the faculty room, she had clearly stated that she was the one who was going to introduce you to the class. What was the point of asking you all the standard information about yourself if she wasn’t even going to use it?

Mrs. Cheon merely stood there, anticipating for you to start. Her neatly managed fingers were laced together behind her back, presenting the dark purple dress she was wearing in all of its glory. You kind of wished it was brighter; just so you could complain about her blinding you without seeming rude. Now you realized that you shouldn’t have trusted her words in their literal sense. It was foolish of you to believe that all you had to do for your formal introduction was to stand there until you were settled.

You took a discrete, heavy breath.

“Hello to you all. My name is Y/N,” you start off as cool as you could manage. “Eighteen. I just moved here from the city, so I am still in the process of getting familiar with the environment. Please take care of me.”

If you could give yourself a pat on the back at that moment, you would’ve. Unfortunately, you had yet to get a grasp on how things worked around here, so it was probably better not to do anything that would make you stand out more than you already did just by being new. And who even transfers schools two months into their last year of high school? Plus, with their stares so intently directed at you like they were studying a fascinating specimen, you couldn’t lift a single finger anyway. So you settled for pursing your lips instead.

A male student with puffed cheeks from the second row raised a brow at you. You bit your cheek lightly. Great.

“It seems like that’s all for Y/N’s introduction,” Mrs. Cheon says, clearing her throat. You internally glowered at the way she awkwardly moved on. You could only wonder how painful your introduction now seemed. “You’ll be seated next to Seungmin. Raise your hand, please.” She ordered.

To which not one soul followed.

If you had not enforced every single ounce of control you had, you were sure your jaw would’ve dropped to the ground. This was already proving to be one of the worst moments of your life, and yet life seemed way too eager to make it even more unforgettable. Your eyes snapped to the figure sitting on the slot in the back row, right next to the windows.

Granted, you already knew who this ‘Seungmin’ was. It was quite obvious, really. The only other desk free to use in this entire room was the one next to the guy you were currently burning a hole through with your gaze. He was staring out the window without a worry in the world, seemingly lost in his thoughts. His posture screamed relaxation, and anything more than that meant infusing into the wooden chair he was leaning back on.

While normally you would have found this guy relatable, right now you could just wish that he finally acknowledged Mrs. Cheon’s call so that you could now erase your presence for the rest of the day.

Luckily for you, it seemed like your homeroom teacher was also getting impatient.

“Kim Seungmin!”

The male with the same name as the one just yelled out leisurely broke off his staring contest with that one cloud in the sky to give you two at the front a glance. It was then that you finally got a good look at him.

His black hair was cut short, brushed down into bangs, but not enough to cover a notable undercut. Despite his clean appearance doubled by the meticulously ironed uniform that hung on his figure, his face was grim in a way that showed great dislike for the situation. You wanted to scoff at the frown decorating his lips, sending everyone the clear message that he had just been bothered. Fighting off the urge to twitch an eye at the slight scrunch of his nose was proving to be the most difficult challenge of the day.

“Oh?” He reacted monotonously before raising his hand as requested. That obviously meant he did hear Mrs. Cheon. “Yeah, here.”

You grit your teeth, already feeling an overwhelming sense of annoyance radiating out of you. From what it looked like, he felt it too—shifting his gaze from Mrs. Cheon to meet yours. Yet, your eyebrows furrowed as the feeling dissipated the moment your eyes locked.

Huh.

How come he seems awfully familiar?

FIC TAGLIST ━ STATUS: OPEN — ASK OR COMMENT 🫶

@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @wnbnny @xocandyy @minluvly @moon0fthenight @estellaluna @hanjsquokka @starlostastronaut @soobnny

[orkauh]

Please, Mr. Kento… Your Wife Really, Really Needs You. SIRIES MASTER LIST

You thought you could win. He never needed to play.

SYNOPSIS. A comment you shouldn’t have made. A dinner party, too much wine, and a woman who looked at your husband a little too long. So you said it — “He’s the one on his knees.” The table laughed. Nanami didn’t. Because Nanami Kento is calm, composed, and utterly in control. And now, every kiss is edged. Every touch, delayed. Every almost? Intentional. You thought you had the upper hand… but he’s not the one unraveling — you are.

Buy me a Ko-Fi :)

[K. Nanami Navigation]

[Orkauh Masterlist]

A/N. plot is complete majoy and minor themes are looking good. Going to start writing the story after i get consice charater profiles. English not my first language, neither my beta so please be kind and enjoy :)) also i believe i will add more chapters oops

A/n so i got chapert 1 halfway done. its alreader 10k+ im so sorry i want to split in two but then i forget to stay consistent when i have one chapter i can reader an redread and change things from the back lol Edit. its alredy at 20K+

A/N 7/23/25 SOOOO IM AT 25K WORDS................................ and its still not done LOL i gues ch1 will be 30k words its the ground work for the rest of the fic so i suppose it makes sence. though i havent decidedd if it would be beter to split it up (cause i hate when tumblr refreshes the whole page or whatever lmaooooo (i gues you can open it up in the broser) but if your reading this let me know in the comments :))))

A/N 7/24/25 ISTG IMMA GET MARRIED AND BECOME A HW SO I CAN WRITE AND DRAW ALL DAY

A/N im officially 28k+ this will be 30-35k 7/25/25

A/N so im finally reaching the ends of the post i will be adding story here for you guys to read for free. but i will be adding an audio book ver on patrean for a more imersive experience! 7/30/25

A/N officially done with chapter 1 going over final reviews and breaking down the chapter for audio book enjoyment on patreon as always fanfiction is free but audiobooks are a little treat. also not sure how long it is in WC but its 3 hr long in audio lol

💍 Series, 🔗 Sister Series, 🔞 [SMUT] , 💞 [FLUFF] , 💔 [ANGST]

[Pre-lude]

[ CH1. The Dinner Party]

[ CH2. The Brats Cold War]

[ CH3. Struggle and Anguish, Most of it Self-Inflicted]

[ CH4. Cracks]

[ CH5. Resolutions]

[ CH6. Unexpected Suprises]

[Oneshots and Associations]

Buy me a Ko-Fi :)

[K. Nanami Navigation]

[Orkauh Masterlist]

[Audio Book]

© orkuh — all rights reserved to me, Orkuh, the author and creator of these works. Do not repost, translate, copy, or claim my writing or art as your own on any platform. Including others social medias like Wattpad, Tiktok, Tumblr, and everything else. My work may not be used for AI training, datasets, or any machine learning purposes.

[lovscb97]

— wip list (july 2025)

i have a question by da way 🤔 if i were to post smth again w my very unpredictable writing schedule what would u all most look forward to reading from the selection :3

1. bangchan + newlyweds au

non-idol!bangchan x wife!reader, lots of fluff, lots of smut, lots of lovey dovey talk, est. wc 10k or below

2. sim jaeyun + fake dating au

non-idol!fake bf!sim jaeyun x fem!reader, fluff, smut, angst probably, miscommunication, jake is cute tho, est. wc could most likely get past 20k…

3. virgin!chan + virgin!reader

smut (obviously), barely angst tbh, acquaintances to lovers, 4-5 sex scenes, current wc is 3k+ and they haven’t even kissed so

4. random pwp wip

⤿ sunghoon phone sex but jake walks in on it

⤿ daddy sunghoon tying you up

⤿ backstage sex with jealous + red haired heeseung

⤿ kitty tamer jungwon

⤿ bangchan sex but his chain keeps dangling in ur face

. . . & many others to come (the list is 20 ideas long)

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

intro: hello! i want to / am planning on participating in the ficsforgaza fundraiser using the sponsor a wip option. because i have several wips and can only work on so many wips at once - i've decided to release polls for 3 main fandoms (bnha, bluelock, jjk). and put those on the official final list so i can write for fics people are most interested in.

this is the jjk poll, with short descriptions of all 5 options below the cut. thank you for participating! rbs appreciated

all fics include smut lol

short summaries:

vampire getou (est. wc 14k): your new neighbor is weirding you out. you think all the late nights, secrecy, and general unrest from his apartment all point to him being a serial killer but you quickly find out that you are very, very from from the truth.

uncle sukuna (est wc 10k) : a part two of an already posted fic that includes virgnity loss.

bodyguard toji (est wc 20k): toji is used to getting hired on odd jobs from all walks of life. so there's nothing particularly interesting about being hired as a body guard for some rich kid. tojis main mission though is to prevent a seemingly suicidal rich girl from following through on it. dark comedy + age gap romance

yutamaki threesome (est wc 12-15k+): from a small coastal town in japan, you travel to tokyo to study the nature of curses and meet many interesting people. you can't figure out the relationship of your work seniors, nor their interest in your bookish and antisocial personality.

megumi sex pollen (est wc 12k) - a mission goes very very wrong and you are miles and miles away from condoms and common sense, and rescue. pwp

[yoonia]

Hello, dearest.

I know I’ve been absent for a while, but I’m back in writing again. Last month (on April), I was only able to write 13,560 words in total, which is really lacking if you know how much I usually write each month, so I’m determined to do better this month. It’s going to be a slow process but I want to share with you some of the things I’m focusing on this May. 

What’s coming in May

— Sunset Glow (Hoseok x reader); estimated wc: app. 15-20k words; current progress: 11,5k words (second draft writing)

This fic will be published as part of a collab with my writer friends, so I’m hoping to release this one soon. As you can see, I’m halfway done (and that’s after I deleted and rewrote a couple of scenes last weekend). Here’s to hoping the fic length isn’t going to expand too much once i start its final draft writing

— Crash Into Me (Bambam x reader); estimated wc: 10k words; current progress: 6,5k words

I wasn’t expecting to release this as the 2nd instalment from my new GOT7 series, but I’ve been having a lot of fun writing this that the process is going down smoothly. I’ll be releasing a teaser once I’ve posted Sunset Glow

— Spring Blossom Lullaby continues

My blog anniversary event took a bit longer than expected to finish since last April was kind of rough for me. I have a couple of moodboards coming with two small drabbles to be released as part of the requests I’ve received during the event. I’ll be releasing them slowly between my fic updates

— Rewriting projects: 

Carousel — currently on progress: chapter 27 & 28 (originally chapter 11 on wattpad, chapter 4 on Tumblr)

Blood Moon Rising — currently on progress: chapter 8, with characters changes, upgrading storyboard for chapter 30-end

— next focus (still in May): 

Ever A Never After - act. 3; estimated wc: 15k words; current progress: 5.5k words

If you are interested on reading more about my writing activities (daily progress, snippets, writing plans, schedules, etc), you can access my writing journal through Patreon. 

Do you have any questions or would you like to know more about my WIPs? feel free to drop your asks in my inbox!

[sailorsoons]

HI PLEASE FIND MY UPCOMING WRITING UPDATES BELOW. This is my attempt at being organized as I enter March, which is the most insane time for me as baseball rapidly approaches.

★ P R I O R I T I E S ★

CHERRY SOURS

WHAT: Next installment from The Syndicates Collection featuring Chan. The member order recently was shuffled for these releases to accommodate not writing members back-to-back with my other projects. EXPECTED WC: ~20k EXPECTED RELEASE: March

RESONANCE

WHAT: New, angsty mini series featuring Jeonghan. It is a best friends to lovers/blurred lines drama. EXPECTED WC: ~15k per chapter ~50-60k total EXPECTED RELEASE: April

★ W O R K I N G T O W A R D ★

SEEK & DESTROY

WHAT: Additional installment in the same universe as Storm Breaker that features Chan's story. EXPECTED WC: 18-20k EXPECTED RELEASE: April

VENOMOUS

WHAT: Limited high fantasy series featuring Vernon set in a faerie world of my own creation. It is an adversaries to lovers/forced proximity theme with some magic and other twists. EXPECTED WC: 10k per chapter ~80-90k total EXPECTED RELEASE: Summer

VIEW FULL LIST OF WIPS AND STATUSES

[pshbites]

WIPS

a/n. usuallyyy i'll try updating this every so often but the only things ill put here are fics that are going to be 10k + because i don't think drabbles need to be in a wip post LOL..

last updated: dec 9th, 2024

COWBOY LIKE ME - psh teaser here

pairing. sunghoon x reader synopsis. fresh college graduate, park sunghoon decides to take a 5 month long vacation with some of his closest friends to northern italy. his expectations? bike rides, gelatos, his best friend and designated chef trying a multitude of recipes, and late night swims. the reality? falling deeply in love with the girl who lives with her grandparents next door. genre & warnings. coming of age, summer au, mentions of the UK school system, based in europe (duh), strangers to friends to a secret third thing, heavy feelings, use of alcohol and drugs, mental health problems, running away, yn has an avoider attachment, loverboy sunghoon. current wc. 16k.. est is 25k post date. in 2025.. :D.. maybe...

SNOW ANGEL - sjy

pairing. jake x reader synopsis. messy situationships with a childhood bestfriend end in two ways, a terrible haircut or moving across the country. in your case it was the latter. OR in which you start fresh in boston just be thrown back to your old ways because a certain someone comes into town often. genre & warnings. childhood bffs to lovers (if u wanna call it that) to strangers to sort of enemies to ??? angsty, fluff, based on the album snow angel by renee rapp (LISTEN TO IT!!), situationships, drinking, drugs, many 99-02 idols like mark, renjun, hyeju, heejin blah blah more, umm jake kinda sucks he also plays soccer but only briefly mentioned, will add more later and fix this... current wc. 5k aiming for a polite 20k post date. lets say at the end of december? maybe even later...

[star-my]

BTS Fic Recs ☆ Tumblr (i)

These are all available on tumblr as of April 2024. Some are likely crossposted on ao3 as well.

~Ao3 RECS HERE~ ~Recs (ii)~ ~Recs (iii)~

Almost all are complete works, those with “+” after WC are incomplete. Most are BTS x (F!)Reader.

Most of these are Mature or Explicit (usually because of smut) ~ mdni ~ italicized titles rated G or T ~ Please read responsibly

If any authors tagged here wish to be removed/untagged, please lmk! | Shoutout to @ggukkiereads who does an amazing job creating rec lists, which helped me find many of these fics

F2L = friends to lovers ; E2L = enemies to lovers ; FE2L = frenemies to lovers ; R2L = rivals to lovers ; BFB = best friend's brother ; BBF = brother's best friend etc

OT7/Multi

☆ BTS Reactions by @dreamescapeswriting | SFW + NSFW |

☆ BTS Scenarios by @btsjfans | SFW + NSFW |

☆ BTS Scenarios by @bulletproofwhalien | NSFW + SFW |

☆ BTS Scenarios by @salvejoon | SFW + NSFW |

☆ BTS Scenarios by @sunshine-and-bangtan | SFW + NSFW |

☆ Desperado Series by @heartbeatan | Mafia AU | PJM, JJK, KTH (in progress) | 60-160k(+) each

☆ The Company series by @btsmakesmehappy | Agent AU | 25-37k(+) each (in progress)

☆ Mafia BTS Reactions by @ninetailedfoxmanchi | Mafia AU (+Yandere AU) |

☆ #CodeBTS series by @yminie | Mafia AU | 1-12k each

Kim Namjoon

☆ The Ghost in Apartment 1403 series by @notsoguiltykpop | Ghost AU, Supernatural AU, Roommate AU? | ?k

☆ beauty & the bookworm by @jungshookz | E2L Library AU, Uni AU | 20k

☆ la vie en bonsai by @jungshookz | S2F2L Neighbours AU, Baker AU | 38k

☆ The Seven Nights series by @theunknowncryptid | SMAU, Mafia AU | 13k

☆ real magic by @heretobbtstrash | S2F2L Single Parent AU, Coffee Shop AU, Coworkers AU | 17k

Kim Seokjin

☆ {Unavailable}

Min Yoongi

☆ Take One by @untaemedqueen | Pornstar AU | 24k

☆ The Deal series by @untaemedqueen | Mafia AU | ?k

☆ suit & tie by @jungshookz | CEO AU, Office AU, Coworkers AU, PA AU | 21k + drabbles

☆ hellish by @jungshookz | E2L Demon AU, Roommate AU | 22k

☆ strike a chord by @snackhobi | S2L Pianist AU, Bar AU | 16k

☆ straight shooter by @snackhobi | F2L/E2L Cyberpunk AU, Dystopian AU | 14k

☆ devil with the mint hair series by @theharrowing | E2FWB Brother's BFF AU, Stoner AU | 11k+

☆ a wager of lords and love by @hisunshiine | S2L Historical AU, Arranged Marriage AU | 7k

☆ daechwita by @chemicalpink | Daechwita AU, Assassin AU | 10k

☆ stay by @luffles424 | Daechwita AU, Assassin AU | 3k

☆ daechwita by @se0kie | Daechwita AU | 4k

☆ make me proud by @moonscriptsx | Established Relationship AU, Canon Idol-verse | 6k

☆ by its cover by @kittae | S2L Cat Dad AU | 2k

☆ misfortunately, yours by @sor-vette | S2F2L Dark Fae AU, Dark Fantasy AU | 32k

☆ mixtape by @jungblue | F2L Uni AU, Radio AU | 15k

☆ cyberslut by @kimnjss | SMAU, Uni AU, Fboy AU | ?k

☆ alive aha fxck by @softyoongiionly | F2L Neighbours AU, Vampire AU | 43k

☆ a brew of wings by @inkedtae | S2F2L Dragon AU, Witch AU | 10k

☆ fury of their scales by @kpopisthereasonihavenolife | Dragon AU | 18k

☆ inheritance series by @jincherie | Hybrid AU | 21k

☆ tuxedo series by @whatifyoulivelikethat | Cat(-shifter?) AU, Roommates AU | ft JJK | 49k+

☆ Assuage series by @btsqualityy | Omegaverse AU, Werewolf AU | ?k

☆ show by @httpjeon | Pw/oP ft BTS | 2k

☆ drip by @here2bbtstrash | Pw/oP | 5k

Jung Hoseok

☆ midnight confessions by @snackhobi | BFF2L Coworkers AU, Office AU, Buzzfeed Unsolved AU | 27k

☆ the bride of ashmedai by @jeonggukingdom | Demon AU, Arranged Marriage AU | 13k

Park Jimin

☆ The Bird Cage series + The Lion's Den series by @untaemedqueen | S2L Mafia AU | ?k

☆ Set It Off series by @btsqualityy | Mafia AU | ?k

☆ the hunt by @httpjeon | Shifter AU, Fantasy AU | 8k

☆ lovebug by @httpjeon | Hybrid AU | 12k

Kim Taehyung

☆ Pied Piper by @untaemedqueen | Mafia AU, Established Relationship AU | 10k

☆ maybe i do series by @chateautae | Arranged Marriage AU, Chaebol AU, CEO AU | 410k + drabbles

☆ kinda hot by @kimnjss | BFF2L SMAU, Uni AU, Fboy AU | ?k

☆ nip it in the bud by @opaljm | Brother's BFF AU, Piercing AU | 10k

☆ heatwave series by @curly-bangtan | F2L Roommate AU | 12k

☆ under the covers by @jessikahathaway | Agent AU | 23k

Jeon Jungkook

☆ heavy lifting by @snackhobi | Coworkers AU | 13k

☆ Miss Vagabond by @bubblesuga | F2L Gamer AU | 8k

☆ blizzard by @curly-bangtan | S2L Roommates AU | 16k

☆ Sparkle by @btsmosphere | F2L Roommates AU | 3k

☆ Hands-On Learning series by @ladyartemesia | Uni AU | 5k

☆ kiss it better by @jincherie | Uni AU, Sports AU, Cheer AU | 12k

☆ ghosts just wanna have fun by @sugaxjpg | Ghost AU, Supernatural AU, Uni AU | ft MYG + KTH | 20k

☆ tell me your secrets (i'm all ears) by @jinpire | Uni AU, Hybrid AU | 7k

☆ under the bridge by @jincherie | Hybrid AU | 11k

☆ Swipe right by @ppersonna | BFF2L Tinder AU | 9k

☆ overtime by @cupofteaguk | CEO AU, Office AU, PA AU, Coworkers AU | 12k

☆ I won't stop you series by @imsarabum | Vampire AU, Fantasy AU, Office AU, Coworkers AU, CEO AU, PA AU | ?k

☆ life eternal by @jungkookiebus | Fae AU | 9k

☆ hotter than hell series by @chateautae | Demon AU | 136k

☆ Hellblazer series by @jungkookiebus | Demon AU, Constantine AU | ?k

☆ agent of love series by @ppersonna | SMAU, Agent AU | ?k+

☆ strawberry kisses series by @kimnjss | SMAU, Brother's BFF AU, Tinder AU | ?k

☆ drag me down (to hell) series by @kimvtae | Mafia AU, Single Parent AU | 58k (abandoned)

☆ Concealed Weapon by @gimmesumsuga | Mafia AU, Husband AU | 10k

☆ hate sex by @yeoreos | FWB Pw/oP | 4k

Overall Favourite Authors (If I recc'd all their works like I want to/more than I have, I'd have to make this series even longer >.<)

☆ @bonvoyagenoona's masterlist

☆ @chateautae's masterlist

☆ @flowerwrites06's masterlist

☆ @here2bbtstrash's masterlist

☆ @hollyhomburg's masterlist

☆ @icyhobi's masterlist

☆ @jungshookz's masterlist

☆ @justcallmenikki7's masterlist

☆ @kpopfanfictrash's masterlist

☆ @ladyartemesia's masterlist

☆ @luxekook's masterlist

☆ @magicalsalamander's masterlist

☆ @yminie's masterlist

☆ @yoonia's masterlist

[sorryimananti-romantic]

who knows, maybe i'm a glutton for lengthy written pieces of fiction but i can't imagine anything better than reading a thought-out, detailed and intriguing story.

20k-30k wc usually takes me around 2 hours to read (when i am not annotating on the side or running laps in my room to calm down from a scene) and even though i do love me some drabbles, imagines or scenarios - sometimes they're so great but oh so short that i end up feeling hungry for more lol.

idk. maybe there is some over-consumption or fast-media issue that's infiltrated even the fanfic community and readers feel less overwhelmed reading fics under 10k? apprehension giving bad/wrong feedback? author burn-out? somebody go ahead and open the field for research already.

there is an overwhelming amount of short fics daily on my dash and not so often bigger oneshots or even series but i've always assumed it's because they take so much more time and effort into creating - which then motivates me more to leave nice feedback when you authors work so hard on them :) vice versa it's a nice feeling when authors take time to acknowledge feedback

like you saying you look forward to my reblogs and i'm over here like.. i have been noticed 👁️👄👁️ and i am being relied on to lose my own mind over your amazing mind. i can't disappoint this co-dependant author-reader-ship 💪 /j

also, miss "yumi in her break era" only five days ago, once again offering to write a fic to my tastes?! you will be the death of me. hand in marriage right now 🤝 /j but also, new series.. ? ✍️👀

○ chron 🃏

lucky for you, i'm physically incapable of writing short fics and loren is an actual witness. whenever i start a fic and go 'yo this actually be short like under 20k) it usually ends up being 26k+ 🤡 and tbh for me personally nothing can top a well-planned detailed fic no matter the length of it!

you're right! there's only so much you can do in a short scenario/imagine/drabble they're like fun little treats, kind of like appetisers/snacks as opposed to lengthy oneshots which i feel like are a full multiple-course meal (and then we have series which are like a whole buffet banquet feast you name it)

yeah there are a lot of factors. even as a writer i know that i prefer reading sth short when i don't have much time to spare but want a little break. reading lengthier works require a lot of time (like you said, about 2 hrs) and you gotta be in the mood all cosy and relaxed to fully enjoy them!

there's def so many shorter works being produced in huge quantities and consumed very rapidly too. writing them takes less time, you don't gotta work out so many details and lose your mind in the process (from my experience writing the few hcs and drabbles i have) and it's... fun? gets a greater audience, more notes? definitely. there are literally so many factors as to why people prefer writing/reading scenarios/drabbles over the lengthier works and i could honestly list them all but i feel like not everyone wants to hear that 💀

personally, i've been pretty consistent with writing the lengthier works, inspired by ppl here who've written so much such excellent monster works AHAHA and since the lengthier fics culture is pretty much dying (let's face it on tumblr it is dying slowly but steadily) i'm devoted to continue contributing to that specific part of the atinyfic community. i could always cook up some short scenarios (i plan to when it's time to retire but i still have ideas that i wanted to write) but for now, we write and write. we write endlessly without a care for the word count :')

there's honestly nothing wrong with wanting to read or write shorter works. i just wish the people who work so hard to create such beautiful and lengthy masterpieces got the attention they deserve. and i wish they do not compare their works to drabbles/scenarios (which you might have observed get a lot of notes in a very short amount of time) and continue writing for themselves and for the readers who appreciate them :')) we're always so incredibly grateful for the feedback we get bc we get some great quality feedback which is our pride :D

you have been very much noticed! me and loren were actually talking not too long ago about how you are one of the few ppl whose reblog we anticipate eagerly ahaha you've spoilt us honestly :') and when i saw your reblog last night (i was feeling incredibly low) i just smiled with tears in my eyes LOL ngl (co-dependency atp fr fr)

miss yumi has always been a clown who goes back on her words esp when it's about taking a break (i actually will be taking a two week break soon like actual break bc i'll be travelling so i'll be back mid aug) but miss yumi also loves writing bc it's the only interesting thing going on in her life and she would love to write for you too (proposal accepted let's pick dresses now :D)

as for the new series... 👀 the current word count is about 70k and i'm not even halfway- this might be the most intricate worldbuilding i've ever done like with the characters and how they're connected to each other (on par with take me home series, might even surpass) and it's... mafia! but the different kind, uniquely yumi LOL and the pairing hmm will remain a secret (take your guess come on)

i look forward to posting it so much it's become my comfort fic. i'll try to start posting it before 2024 but no promises yet bc i wanna finish writing it (or at least nearly finish) before i post the masterlist or teasers.

[zorange13]

currently writing los(n)er jay x reader fic, how long do y'all prefer the length? because a part of me feels like i could use this for future reference.

either way im going to do what i feel is best (learning to trust my own judgement), i'm just curious.

btw, its unfinished but the current wc is 2197.

[pearlypairings]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love❤

ahh me? oh lord, lemme see...

Meet Me at Our Spot: hellcheer || <10k one-shot || no-vecna, meet cute at the Hawkins Library

not a sound, but the wind: hellcheer || <20k total || hurt/comfort, drug deal turned wintry emotional support

there is a light that never goes out : jonathan x chrissy || WIP 3/? || no upside down, slow burn with a twist

Dear Donna, : hellcheer || <9k total || penpal letters recounting S4 & post-S4 from Chrissy's POV & very much hellcheer!

In an Envelope Marked: Harrington : max & steve || <500 wc || based on S4 canon- max's letter to steve if he read his

also bonus some fic recs by other writers!

Next Time I Fall by the queen of rarepairs @1lostsoul0fishbowl : gareth x el hopper slow burn work of absolutely stunning angst, wonderful comfort, fluffiest of fluff, and everything in between.

we'll find out what we're made of by sherlgrey : hellcheer fic where Eddie and Chrissy's cheer friends team-up to rescue Chrissy at a party and there's a big ol' sleepover at the Munson trailer. it's endearing and genuine the entire time<3

A Very Harrington Christmas by @justhere4thevibez : my usual hellcheer comfort fic <3 fake dating with steve/chrissy, most of the older gang hanging out in the family ski cabin, miscommunication station for chrissy and eddie but with a deliciously sweet ending<3

this was so much fun, thank you for passing this along!

[auraxins]

WORKS IN PROGRESS (last updated: 15/09/2024)

est wc: 10k+ summary: you're new to the farming industry, and to the small town your ancestors inhabited. akutagawa is new to this entire side of japan. and he's bleeding on your property. like, a lot. tags: farming au, strangers to lovers, fluff, romance, canon-typical blood and injuries, wound tending, descriptions of animal injuries, (more tbd) status: second-highest priority wip

Crushed Little Stars - Ryuunosuke Akutagawa x gn!reader

Heavy Lies the Crown - regent!Kaeya x afab!gn!Reader

est wc: 20k summary: In the wake of the death of the King and subsequent absence of his biological heir, it is up to Kaeya Alberich- the adopted son whom the royal court are quick to dismiss- to fill in the space as prince regent. His first task is to search for a spouse- and the bold cavalry knight he has grown fond of over the years seems like the perfect first choice. tags: royalty au, hurt/comfort, reader is explicity afab & non-fem, gender dysphoria, bigoted behaviour, kissing, suggestive (potentially nsfw), (more tbd) status: low priority, second draft complete

Miscellaneous/Future Projects

Kinktober (both FFG & personal)

Pathfinder chapter 3