#Barty crouch Jr drabble

[dismalflo]

Hiii I saw your request for asks so here I am. Maybe one with barty x potter reader and it’s like about barty bringing out this completely different side to reader and James being like who tf is that. Like she’s so confident and funny and silly around barty because she just knows that he completely respects her even if she’s a little insane(honestly this is something I’ve been struggling to write for weeks and wanted to see how you would do it 😭)

hi babe!! thank you for requesting <3 i lovee a barty x potter!reader, hope you enjoy!

Barty Crouch Jr x fem!potter!reader who really wants to help the owls of Hogwarts ✩ 888 words

cw: fluff, james and sirius being concerned (and irritated) brothers, james is barty's biggest hater, barty is whipped for his weird gf

an: omg flo writes for barty now!! i really enjoyed writing this but this is my first time writing for him so be gentle. also i saw this request and started writing it like straight away ahhh

“What’s your sister doing?” Sirius asks, eyes still locked on you as he gives James a rough shake by the shoulders. You've apparently transformed the coffee table in the common room into your personal stage, sprawled across it, delivering a very quiet yet impassioned speech.

James casts a glance your way, then groans—a low, weary sound filled with dread.

“She’s being weird,” James mutters, dragging a hand down his face. He’s still half-asleep, his hoodie bunched around his neck, hair sticking up in a dozen different directions. “Because of him.”

Sirius snorts, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Junior?”

“Yes, sodding Junior.” James replies grimly, as if he’s just uttered some ancient curse.

Meanwhile, you're still lying across the coffee table like it’s a velvet chaise lounge, one leg raised dramatically, arm flung over your face like a starlet in a Muggle film. Barty’s perched on the floor next to you, chin propped in his hand, looking up at you with that infuriatingly smitten grin. He’s clearly hanging on to every word of your monologue, whatever nonsense you’re spouting this time.

“I’m telling you,” you say, voice a hushed whisper but fervent all the same, “if we just trained the owls—really trained them—they could unionise. They could have everything they've ever wanted and more treats!”

James closes his eyes, exhaling slowly through his nose, clearly trying to center himself amid the chaos. Sirius just whistles low, like he’s watching some particularly dramatic scene unfold in a soap opera.

“Is she talking about unionising the owls?” Sirius asks, incredulous. “Is that a—”

“Don’t.” James cuts him off flatly, still rubbing his face. “Don’t ask questions. That’s how he wins.”

You shift, sitting bolt upright on the coffee table, animated as ever, gesturing wildly as if you’re leading some kind of revolution. “—and they’re already halfway there!” you’re saying, grin wide. “They have a hierarchy, Bee. They talk to each other! I saw one of them give another a dirty look last week when it dropped a letter in the lake. And then another one had a go at it and defended its friend! That’s class solidarity, if I’ve ever seen it.”

Barty leans forward, eyes gleaming, his smile full of adoration. “You’re a visionary,” he whispers, as if you’ve just unlocked a new level of consciousness rather than plotting to turn Hogwarts’ owls rogue.

You plop down beside Barty on the floor, your leg brushing his as you settle in without a care in the world. You act as if you’re utterly unbothered by the fact that Sirius and James are watching you like you're some mythical creature they can’t quite figure out.

Barty doesn’t flinch when you sit down next to him. Instead, he turns his head, offering you a soft, affectionate smile. His hand reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Without a word, he presses a gentle kiss to your temple, lingering just a bit longer than necessary. When he pulls back, there’s something in his gaze—something bordering on reverence.

“I’m sure we could arrange something to go wrong in the owlery, treasure,” he murmurs, his voice low and conspiratorial, “Make it off-limits. Give you a head start.”

James huffs, shaking his head, his eyes flicking over to the two of you. You’re leaning into Barty, laughing at what he’s said while he absently plays with your hair. You look entirely at ease, a side of you James never really sees with anyone else. You and Barty—well, it's a whole different world.

"I don’t get it, she wasn’t like this before." James mutters petulantly, still rubbing his face in disbelief. "One minute she’s plotting whatever ridiculous thing, and the next—what? She’s all... sweet?" He whines, not unlike a toddler being told there's no sweets before bedtime. He watches you laugh again, a soft, affectionate chuckle, as Barty pulls you closer, his hand possessively resting on your waist. “Bloody disgusting if you ask me,” he mutters under his breath.

The comment lands just as Barty chuckles lowly, his hand firm around you. You look up at him, your eyes sparkling, and without hesitation, he places another soft kiss to your temple—so tender, so un-Barty-like.

Barty raises an eyebrow, a smirk curling up at the corner of his lips, glancing over at James. “Don’t remember asking you, Potter,” he drawls, his tone thick with indifference. “If you weren’t her brother, I swear—” His threatening tone is cut off by your gentle chiding, whispering his name.

Sirius, for his part, is enjoying the show, his eyes flicking between James and Barty like he’s waiting for some kind of standoff. But Barty just looks bored, fingers absentmindedly brushing through your hair. James, of course, glares, but doesn’t have the energy to continue. Groaning, he sinks back into the couch like he’s been defeated by some cosmic force.

“Whatever, mate,” James mutters under his breath. “Don’t know why you had to go for sodding Junior, Y/N.”

Your only response is a laugh, echoing through the common room like James has told the funniest joke in the world. He’s happy for you, really—just not thrilled about the massive hurdle you’ve put in the way of his acceptance. And that hurdle, of course, is Barty Crouch Jr.

[agreeewrites]

Baby I'm Yours | B.C.J.

feat. Barty Crouch Jr x blackcat!reader

summary: your new boyfriend Barty tells you he loves you, and you…freak tf out (even though you do, in fact, love him too).

cw: MDNI 18+, smut, established relationship, drinking, you are both possessive and mildly toxic, emotional vulnerability (eugh), love confessions, hurt/comfort, hard kinks, choking

an: can be read as a stand-alone, but hits better as part 2 of this fic

masterlist

Barty's POV

“Oi, Crouch!”

Barty looked up from his sketchbook, propped in his lap to keep him occupied while he waited in the courtyard for you and Evan to get out of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Xeno was running towards him down the corridor, robes flapping wildly in his haste.

Barty could practically smell trouble, and it made his heart kick with excitement.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Xenophi—”

“Cut the shit. Y/n is dueling,” Xeno snapped, grabbing Barty by the collar and dragging him from his perch in one of the stone openings.

“Oh! Is she winning?” Barty asked, falling into a jog beside Xeno.

“Not the point. She's going to get expelled.”

“Like I’d ever let that happen,” Barty chuckled.

They rounded the corner and could hear the shouting before they even reached the classroom. Excitement raced under his skin, and he all but kicked down the door in his haste to get to you.

You were up on a desk, robes discarded, absolutely pummeling Amacus Carrow with hexes. Amacus was hidden behind and overturned desk, lamely tossing expelliarmus over his shoulder.

The students formed a ring around you both, roaring with excitement while the Professor tried desperately to talk you down.

Barty skirted around the edge of the group towards you, finding Evan standing just beneath you, watching with a wild grin.

“She's a fucking menace,” Evan cackled, and Barty had to agree.

A vicious, beautiful little menace.

“What'd he do?” Barty asked, watching you dodge a hex effortlessly and throw one back in the same second. His heart was pounding, affection making his blood race. Saints, his cock was damn near about to rip through his trousers he was so fucking turned on.

“He called you a buffoon. And said your tattoos were ugly,” Evan said, cheering when you hit Amacus’ table so hard with stupify it cracked. “I was going to intervene, but she hit him with a book before I even got a word out.”

Barty was going to faint if anymore blood vacated his brain.

He spun a chair around and stepped up onto the table beside you. “Hello, treasure. Chose violence, did we?” You squeaked in surprise when he looped an arm around your waist, spinning you around and plucking your wand from your fingers.

“Barty!” You protested, trying to grab your wand back. “Give me that!”

Amacus, realizing you were disarmed, popped up from behind his desk.

“Ah, ah,” Barty waggled your wand at the perspiring wretch. “She may have the restraint to avoid Azkaban, but I have no such compunction, Carrow.” He gestured to Amacus’s spindly wand. “Rosier will take that, if you please.”

Evan had appeared beside Carrow, holding out his hand expectantly. Carrow dropped it into Evan's palm, red-faced and sputtering.

“Barty,” you said again, voice pitching lower with agitation.

He pressed an appeasing kiss to the crown of your head, handing you your wand back. “I think you've made your point, love,” he said. “Unless you'd like to make a fugitive out of me.”

You blew a strand of hair from your face, scowling at Amacus as he fled the room with his twin in tow. “I suppose not,” you huffed. “But if he runs his fucking mouth again—”

Barty pecked your lips, unable to resist your sharp tongue for another second. “He's a dead-man walking, hm?”

A smile pulled at the corners of your mouth, and your shoulders finally softened. “Something like that.” You rose up onto your toes and kissed him again, his heart pounding against his ribs like it was trying to burst out of his chest to get to you.

Barty helped you down from the table while the rest of the students filed out, grumbling that their bloodbath was cut short. The Professor tried to step up to you, face purple with indignation, but one glare from Barty had them backing off, throwing their hands up in defeat.

“Are you alright, though? He didn't get you?” Barty tilted your chin up, turning your pretty face to the right, then the left to check for damage.

“Not once,” you smirked, and his chest swelled with pride.

“That's my girl,” he cooed, leaning down to draw you in for another, more heated kiss. He swiped his tongue across your lower lip, tasting your cherry lipgloss, before kissing down your neck, wallowing in the sweetness of your perfume, the warmth of your skin. “S’why I love you so much.”

As soon as it slipped out, he felt you stiffen, withdrawing slightly from him. He hadn't meant to say it, though he'd felt it long before you were official, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

He pulled his head back, finding your eyes wide, kiss-stung lips parted in shock. A deer in headlights.

“D-did you just—” you stuttered. He could feel your heart fluttering like a hummingbird under his fingertips. “Y-you love me?”

He smiled, something tender unfurling in his chest. “I do, very much,” he murmured, softening his voice like he was speaking to a frightened animal.

“Bat, I—” you words caught in your throat, and a flicker of hope kindled in his heart. “I have to go.” You turned heel and dashed out of the classroom, nearly taking out Evan and Xeno, who were pretending not to listen by the door.

They grimaced, approaching Barty cautiously.

“Sorry, mate,” Xeno said, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Why?” Barty asked, shouldering your bag that you abandoned in your haste.

“Because she—mate, are you with us?” Evan waved a hand in front of his face.

Barty smacked his hand away. “I’m fine, I knew she wasn't going to say it back,” he shrugged.

Sure, it would have been amazing if you said it back, but you didn't have to say it for him to know it was true. He knew you struggled with big displays of emotion, and he wasn't about to goad you into saying something you weren't ready to.

He knew you felt it. You told him with every kiss, every touch, every gesture, from softly tracing his tattoos while you cuddled, to picking fights in the middle of class to defend his honor. Barty knew the truth, and you'd realize it on your own soon enough.

Xeno and Evan were looking at him like he had three heads.

“So why did you say it?” Evan asked.

“Because I felt it?” Barty didn't understand why they were so confused. He’d always worn his heart on his sleeve with you, and that wasn't about to change just because you were finally together. He knew you liked to have all the cards before you made a decision, and now you did.

“But she like, freaked out,” Xeno said, like Barty couldn't practically read the thoughts flying through your mind. “That doesn't worry you?”

Irritation curled along his spine, sharpening his tongue. “I’ve got it under control, Lovegood,” he bit. “Don't strain yourself pretending to give a fuck.”

“Junior—” Evan started.

“Are we ready for dinner? I'm starved,” Barty chirped, uprooting the conversation, and the seed of doubt it was planting in his mind.

Reader’s POV

You sat curled in your bed, staring at the emerald curtain separating you from the rest of the dorm. Barty's words echoed in your mind, ricocheting painfully against your skull.

I love you so much.

I love you so much.

I love you so much.

With every repetition came the same cycle of feelings: terror, elation, guilt, and terror again. You cared for Barty, Merlin, did you care for Barty. It ate you up inside, all the feelings you had for him. Drove you half-mad most of the time.

He was your favorite person, your comfort and your home. You wanted to be with him all the time, and you never wanted to be with anyone.

But love? It seemed impossible, enormous. You choked on it, drowned under it. And though it sounded so sweet on his lips, you just couldn't say it back, and it was tearing you up inside.

You knew how deeply his abandonment wounds went, how sensitive he was to rejection, and you never ever wanted to hurt him that way again. Especially not when he'd brought nothing but wonder and excitement into your life.

He didn't seem particularly upset, but you'd run off so quickly, you weren't sure how he'd actually taken it. For all you knew, you'd shattered his heart, and he'd never want to see you again.

Oh fuck, what if he was if was going to break up with you?

A fresh wave of terror clutched your heart, and you cuddled your stuffed cat closer, praying you hadn't fucked this up.

“Y/n?” Pandora called gently, peeling open your curtain to peek at you. “Barty’s here. Looking rather…fretful.”

Shit, shit, shit. He was here to dump you. This was it.

You stuffed your kitty under your pillows and pushed yourself into a sitting position, wiping at your tear-streaked cheeks. “Let him in,” you mumbled.

Pandora nodded, stepping back, and Barty’s head poked through, dark brows pulled together in concern.

“Oh, baby,” he sighed, taking in your probably pitiful state. “Can I come in?”

You nodded, scooching over so he could climb into your bed. He immediately enveloped you in his arms, cuddling you into his chest. Cigarette smoke clung to his clothes and hair, mixing with the faded traces of his familiar cologne, and it immediately soothed some of your panic.

He was here, and he didn't hate you.

Barty’s heart thumped steadily under your cheek as he peppered kisses along the crown of your head, his hand slipping under your hoodie, well, technically his hoodie, to brush against your skin. He was unusually quiet, his movements slow and gentle.

After a few minutes of loaded quiet, you couldn't hold your tongue any longer.

“I’m really sorry, B,” you mumbled, tracing the lines of the tattoo on his chest peeking through his half-buttoned shirt.

“For what, tres? You did nothing wrong,” he shushed you, squeezing you tighter.

You sniffled, tears springing to your eyes.

He shifted, turning so you were beneath him and he was looking down at you. “Have you spent the last few hours thinking you did something wrong?” He asked, looking genuinely distressed at the suggestion.

Your lips folded into a tight line, not trusting yourself to speak, and you nodded.

“Treasure, no,” he gasped, cradling your face and kissing away the tear that rolled down your cheek. “My sweet, darling, gorgeous girl, you did absolutely nothing wrong. I didn't say that under the assumption you'd say anything back. I said it because I wanted to, because I—” the words caught in his teeth, like he had to bite them back before they wrangled out of his control once again.

“I'm just not ready,” you whispered, shame turning your guts to stone.

“And that's okay—hey, look at me.” He brushed his nose against yours, the softest nuzzle. When you managed to drag your eyes to his, you found them so sincere, so warm. “It's okay, baby. I promise.” He held his pinky up, the nail painted to match your manicure, and you curled your pinky around his. “I promise,” he repeated, resting his forehead against yours.

You couldn't help the nervous giggle that bubbled out of you, relief making you giddy. “I thought you were here to break up with me,” you admitted, reaching up to stroke the sharp angle of his jaw, carding your fingers through his wild hair.

“You what?!” Barty cried, rearing back in shock. “I’d sooner cut my cock off. Perish the fucking thought this instant. Baby, I’m yours.” He swung his leg over you, pining you beneath him. “You must never think that again, understand?”

“Bat—”

His fingers slipped under your arms, tickling along your ribs and making you squeal, bucking underneath his hold as you tried to escape. He was grinning like a fool, and only stopped when he managed to catch both your wrists to pin your arms over your head. “I've got you now, babygirl,” he purred, leaning down to whisper against your ear. “And guess what?”

“Hm?” You arched into him, the frantic, ticklish energy quickly morphing into something heady, intoxicating. The cloying heat only Barty could stoke in your belly.

“I love you,” he whispered against your pulse, sealing it with a kiss against the tender skin.

You sucked in a quick breath, heart tripping over itself, and you could tell instantly that he caught it, his lips curling into a smile.

“My darling, I love you so much.” He licked a stripe up your throat, the scalding caress of his tongue coaxing an airy whine from your lungs. “My favorite girl.” Kiss. “My most precious treasure.” Kiss. “I’m so in love with you it’s driving me mad—”

“Do you ever stop talking?” You silenced him with a greedy kiss, all teeth and tongue and desperation, elated that he was still yours, that he wanted you, loved you, so deeply. You wanted to devour him whole, never feel, never taste, never know anything but him.

Barty chuckled when you broke the kiss to breathe, releasing your hands so you could grab at his shirt, desperately trying to undo the buttons. He braced his hands against your headboard, letting you paw and take whatever you wanted from beneath him while he watched through lust-fogged eyes.

“You sure act like you love me,” he teased, and you pinched his hip, shooting him a glare.

“I love your dick,” you bit back, palming him through his pants, and finally, he shut the fuck up.

Barty’s POV

The Slytherin common room was raging, flashing green and cloudy with fog, music thumbing through the floor and up Barty's legs.

He was deep in a game of beer pong, absolutely smoking Regulus while a crowd watched on. But mentally, he was plotting his next escape to your dorm, where he'd been periodically bringing you drinks in exchange for kisses while you read your new romance book.

This next time, he’d probably stay with you instead of returning. You were probably starting to feel the effects of both the raunchy writing and the alcohol right about now, and that was a combo he wouldn't dare miss.

Just when he lined up his shot, determined to finish poor Reg off, he spotted you coming down the stairs. Dressed in tattered jeans and a pair of fishnets, one of his Sex Pistols tee's hanging loose on your frame…

He completely whiffed the shot.

He didn't care.

“Treasure!” He cried when you spotted him across the room, and everyone swiveled in surprise.

You sauntered over, a big, melty smile on your face, and threw your arms around his neck.

“Hiii, handsome,” you cooed, pulling him down for a kiss.

He could taste the booze on your breath, syrupy and disorienting. “Made the drinks a little strong, did I?” He chuckled, steadying you with an arm around your waist.

“Whaaat? No, m’fine—Dora!” You suddenly lurched away from him, throwing yourself at your best friend. “I missed you!”

“Hi, love. I missed you more,” Pandora laughed, hugging you back and casting Barty an accusatory glare, though her eyes glittered with amusement.

Barty shrugged and held up two fingers, answering her silent question of how many you'd had.

Pandora's eyes widened and she pointed at herself, then you, then held up two fingers behind your back.

Barty burst out laughing, then cajooled you out of Pandora's arms and back into his. “Baby, have Panda and I both been bringing you drinks?”

You giggled, hiding your face in his chest. “And Evan brought me a shot,” you said.

“He did?!” Barty pretended to be shocked, glancing over at his best friend, who held up his hands in innocence. “So you're right pissed, then.”

You stared up at the ceiling, like you were deeply contemplating this, then slowly lowered your glassy eyes back to his. “Perhaps,” you said carefully, and he snorted a laugh.

Merlin, you were fucking adorable.

“C’mon, Crouch. Game's not over,” Regulus griped.

Barry glanced down at the cups, finding Regulus had sunk two balls while he was distracted. “Guess it's time I catch up,” he hummed, shifting you to his side and taking the two big gulps of stale beer.

You wrinkled your nose in distaste. “I can go get some fresh ones,” you offered, attempting to take a stumbling half-step away from him.

“Nope.” Barty hauled you back into his side, arm bracketed along your lower back. “You're staying right here with me, little lush.”

With you under his arm, he sank his final shot, officially beating Regulus, then whisked you off to the dancefloor to celebrate his victory.

He was in heaven, booze pumping hot and thick in his blood, your body pressed in against his front, writing with abandon to the rock music blaring from the speakers. You looked supremely fuckable, glossed with sweat and starry-eyed, a wild grin on your pretty lips.

He bent down, nosing into your neck while you rolled your hips against his, too drunk to realize what you were doing to him. Or too drunk to care.

“Babygirl, you're killing me,” he purred against your balmy skin, his grip tightening on your hips to stop your movements. “Better stop unless you want me to bend you over the bar right here, right now.”

“Nuh-uhhh,” you whined, spinning in his arms to face him. “M’just dancin’.”

“Sure, sweet thing. And I'm a monk,” he chuckled, watching you press kisses to the inked valley of his sternum, his shirt most of the way unbuttoned by your tricky fingers. You were such an affectionate drunk, but it wasn't often you indulged enough to get drunk in the first place. He groaned when you glanced up at him, round eyes framed by thick lashes, and his cock gave a merciless kick against his trousers.

You grinned, kissing your way up his neck before pecking his lips. The taste of his own sweat on your lips made his mind go dark, lust shredding through the tenuous leash he had himself on.

“Bat,” you murmured, tugging on his chain to get his attention.

“Baby,” he replied, voice rougher than it was moments before.

You kissed him again, tongue dipping past his lips to brush against his before retreating again, taunting him. “Can I tell you a secret?” you whispered.

He nodded, legs locked to keep himself upright.

You cupped your hand around his ear, leaning in close enough that your breath tickled the hair around his ear. “I love you too.”

It was like a bucket of cold water was doused over his head, his heart seizing. Fuck, how amazing the words sounded on your lips, but you were so drunk. Too drunk to know what you were saying, let alone remember it tomorrow.

He knew you loved him, but he didn't want to hear it like this. Not for the first time. He wanted you to say it and mean it, and not need liquid courage to make you feel safe enough to admit it.

“Honey, fuck, I love you so much, but you don't mean that,” he said, gently folding your hands into his and leading you off the dancefloor.

You resisted, pouting. “I do mean it! I love you!”

“Treasure, please—”

“Don’t ‘treasure’ me. I love you, and I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner,” you argued, lips pulling down into a frustrated frown. Then, softer, just for him—“I love you, Barty.”

He winced, like a lance was shoved through his chest. “Stop it, you're drunk,” he said, fighting to keep his voice gentle while he tugged you somewhere quieter.

People were watching, your friends pushing forward to see what the fuss was about, and panic beat like a drum in his head.

“No! Why won't you let me love you?” You yanked your hands out of his hold. “You love me!”

“I do, but you can't—you don't know what your saying, love—” He couldn't the thought of you saying it now and not being able to tomorrow. That maybe you didn't mean it, that you were just telling him what he wanted to hear. False validation hurt far worse than none at all.

“What's going on?” Pandora interjected, stepping between the two of you.

Anger flared hot under Barty's skin. “Fuck off, Pan,” he bit.

“Hey—” Xeno barked.

“Don't fucking start with me, Xe.” Barty stepped up to his friend, ringed fingers curling into a fist. Fucking Xeno, putting doubts in his head…

Evan jumped between them before it escalated further. “Alright, that's enough. This is between Barty and y/n—”

“He upset her!” Pandora argued, her arms wrapped around your shoulders.

“M’fine!” You shot back, jerking out of her arms and nearly sending yourself to the ground.

“You aren't fine,” Barty growled, shoving Evan and Xeno out of the way and catching you before you toppled completely. “You need to go to bed.”

You deflated at his tone, moisture pooling along your lower lashes, and he felt like that biggest ass on the planet. “Why are you so angry with me?” You whispered, and his heart cracked.

“I'm not—fuck, baby. I could never be angry with you.” He pulled you into his chest, wrestling down the hurt churning in his gut. “Let's just get you to bed, yeah? Together?”

You hesitated, contemplating resisting further, but then you nodded, the last of your restraint dissolving from your muscles.

“Barty—” Pandora warned.

“I've got her,” Barty snapped, tightening a possessive arm around your shoulders. “Can you all just fucking trust me for once?”

They all fell quiet, looking back and forth from him to one another. He didn't give them a chance to respond, pushing through the semicircle they made around you and leading you up the stairs.

Neither of you spoke, the silence of your dorm only broken by his shuffling around and your sniffles. He hated himself for making you cry, wanted to tear his hair out and claw off his skin in repentance, but he just couldn't stand hearing you say that and not knowing if you meant it. It was the worst kind of torture.

He helped you into your pajamas and removed your makeup, then tucked you into bed with some water and a hangover cure ready to go on your nightstand.

You snuggled into your pillows, stuffed kitty folded into your chest, and blinked up him with sorrowful eyes. “Will you stay?” You asked, and his heart tried to punch through the wall of his chest.

He sighed. “’Course, love,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. He rummaged through your things, finding a pair of his sweatpants, and changed into them before crawling into bed beside you and shutting the curtain.

You nosed into his neck, arms bundled against his chest, and he cushioned your head with his bicep, the other draped over your waist.

“Don't let me ruin this,” you mumbled, voice sleep-addled and sad.

He kissed your forehead, guilt ringing hollow against his ribs. “You couldn't, treasure. You're stuck with me,” he tried to joke, but it was mirthless.

You shook your head, lips brushing along his clavicle, then your breathing deepened, muscles going lax, and you passed out in his arms.

He kissed your head again, nuzzling into your hair, and let his eyes wander to the crack in the curtain, where he knew he'd watch the sunrise in a few hours. Usually, he was able to sleep with you, the warmth and weight of your body soothing his mind enough to let him rest. But he knew there were no dreams waiting for him tonight.

So he'd hold you, and try not to think too hard, and watch the room inevitably fill with light.

Reader's POV

You woke up to an empty bed and a pounding headache, morning sunlight blazing through the gap in your curtain.

“Fuck me,” you groaned, sitting up and grabbing the potion from your bedside table, popping the cork and slamming it back. Immediately, the potion began to work, the sharpness behind your eyes dulling and your stomach settling.

Merlin, how much did you drink last night? You barely remembered anything after dancing with Barty—wait, where was Barty?

You were fairly certain he'd come to bed with you, and found evidence of that in the dented pillow on your left, the smell of his cologne lingering on the fabric.

You remembered him being angry about something, angry with you, but you couldn't remember why, the specific moments slithering through your fingers like silverfish.

You pulled aside your curtain, finding Pandora and Xeno tangled in her bed, Pandora braiding ribbons in her boyfriends platinum waves while he slept.

“Hey,” you croaked.

“Morning, sunshine. You fucked up,” Pandora said, waggling a finger at you.

You groaned, slumping back onto your pillows. “What did I do?”

“Told Barty you loved him. Loudly and in front of everyone.”

Your jaw fell open. No, no, surely you didn't do something so careless? “I couldn't have—”

“You did, and he's losing his mind over it. Been “showering” for about two hours,” Xeno grumbled, shifting a bit on Pandora's chest.

You couldn't believe yourself. That wasn't how Barty deserved to hear that, not after days of patiently waiting for you to pluck up the courage. You had to fix this. Had to make sure he knew the truth, and that it wasn't a drunken mishap, but the truth in your heart.

Throwing your covers off, you slipped out of bed, padding out of the room and sneaking over to the boys dorm.

You bumped into a freshly-showered Evan halfway to the boys bathroom.

“Hey, wait.” He caught you by the wrist. “If you're going in there to hurt him, don't,” he warned, glacial eyes narrowing.

“I'm not, Ev,” you promised.

“Because I like you, y/n. You're the same kind of bitch as me. But if you're fucking with my best mates heart, I'd hate to have to hate you.” He brushed past you, his words hanging heavy in the air.

You tried not to take it personally, Evan and Barty were fiercely protective of each other, but it still stung that he thought you'd intentionally hurt Barty.

Of course you wouldn't, you loved him.

You loved him.

Fuck, you were so stupid.

You pushed into the bathroom, steam thick and tepid. Only one shower was running, gray smoke curling around the gossamer plumes of steam, and the bathroom seemed otherwise deserted.

“Colloportus,” you cast, locking the door behind you. You approached the shower, knocking lightly on the wall. “Bat, you in there?”

An arm shot out from the curtain and yanked you in, pj’s and all.

“Barty!” You crashed into his wet, naked chest, the blast of hot water soaking you.

“Didn't expect you up for hours, drunkard,” he teased, petting the wet hair from your face, but his smile faltered when he noted the absence of yours.

You sputtered a little, trying to regain your resolve despite the shock. “I-I’m really sorry, Barty,” you said, reaching up to cup his face, stroking away the beads of water running down with your thumb. From the red around his eyes, deep purple stains underneath them, it was clear he hadn't slept at all.

“Sorry for what?” He asked, brows drawing together. He was putting on a brave face, but you could tell that you'd hurt him, and it made your heart splinter.

“For telling you the way I did instead of the way I should have.” You brought his hands to the hem of you soaked-through shirt, guiding them to lift it up and over you head, wanting to be as close to him as you could in this moment—no barriers.

“Baby, you don't have to—”

You shimmied your shorts down, the fabric landing with a wet plop on the tile floor. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his, searing heat blooming everywhere your skin touched. “I want to,” you murmured, drawing him down for a feather-light kiss. “I need to.”

He loosed a shaky exhale, eyes flitting nervously over your face while his hands came to a tentative rest on your hips.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. “Bartemius Crouch Jr., I love you. I love you more than anything. And I’m sorry—”

Barty turned, crushing you against the wall and stealing the last of your apology with a fervid kiss. “I love you more,” he growled, a visceral purr of approval against your ear. “Not so hard, hm?”

You nodded, a pitiful whine plucked from your throat when his fingers prodded between your legs, wasting no time spreading you open and smearing your slick over his palm.

“My brave girl, I'm so proud of you,” he cooed, sinking knuckle deep into your clenching heat, making you keen. “So good f’me, aren't you?”

“I was just so scared,” you whimpered, hips rocking into his hand as he parted your gummy walls, scissoring you open with a second finger.

“I know, honey. I know you better than anyone,” he murmured, a possessive edge sharpening his voice. “I knew you loved me, just like I knew you wanted me months ago. Before even you did, silly little thing.”

“Yes, Barty—fuck,” you moaned.

He curled his fingers, pressing against the spot that made your knees give out, white blooming behind your eyes. He silenced your cries with his mouth, smothering you while he fucked you with his fingers, the lewd squelch of your pussy barely muffled by the thundering water.

“Say it again,” he gruffed, his free hand coming up to wrap around your throat, holding you up by the febrile column.

“I love you,” you gasped, loosing air as his hand tightened, the heat in your belly building higher and higher, near to combusting.

“Again.”

“I luh—” you wheezed, unable to draw enough air to finish the phrase.

“Heart’s beating so hard, treasure. All for me?”

You nodded, head going fuzzy from lack of oxygen and the looming orgasm, putty in his merciless hands.

His eyes were black, obfuscated with lust and providence, a ferality barely tethered.

You were about to break, dragged roughshod to release, when suddenly his hand retreated, leaving you empty. Gutted.

But then he was pushing inside you, splitting you down the center with his thickness, so full you swore you could taste him in your throat. His grip loosened on your neck, allowing you a swig of air as he groaned, rutting savagely into your softness.

“So fucking tight, little cunt’s like a vice,” he grated, lifting your legs for a deeper angle, leaving you suspended and helpless to receive whatever he gave you. “Gonna come for me, baby? Let me fill you to the fucking brim with my love?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you babbled, nails dragging down his shoulders as you desperately tried to hold on while the world fell away.

“Go on, tres. Give it to me. Don't hold back.” He huffed into your neck, his thrusts getting rougher, sloppier as he swelled inside of you.

Your orgasm blasted through you, ripping you apart at the seams, and you sank your teeth into his shoulder, muffling yourself as he fucked you through it.

“Fuck, that's it—fucking take it—” his own release slammed into him, and he bottomed out with a punishing snap. You could feel his cock surging against your ruined pussy, filling you completely, body and soul.

His grip on your relaxed as the strength bled out of him, his lips tracing a path up your throat, finding your lips in a lissome, sodden kiss.

“I love you,” you whispered, tears pooling behind your eyes as the onslaught of feeling dissipated.

“I love you,” he replied, peppering kisses all over your face in the way that never failed to make you smile. He set you gently on your feet, an arm around your waist in case you stumbled. “Are you okay, though? Really?”

You nodded, pecking his cheek as you stepped back under the deliciously warm stream of water. “I'm in love, what could be wrong?”

He grinned, blinding as the sun, and scooped you back up in a toothy, buoyant kiss. “Absolutely nothing, my love. Absolutely nothing at all.”

© agreeewrites 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.

[heaven4lostgirls]

forbidden love! Junior x Fem!gryffindor reader where Barty hates that you have to hide. PLOT TWIST (cus I need drama lols) Barty gets in a fight with another guy who said rude crap about reader/y/n and bartys getting hurt when reader steps in with magic and threats.

Ppl don't mess with Barty any more.

pairing: barty crouch jr x fem!gryffindor!reader

summary: request above!

warnings: mentions of blood purity, barty crouch sr. voldemort, slytherin hate, not proofread, graphic descriptions of blood + violence

word count: 1.4K

“No” Barty whines as you disentangle your limbs from his. As you leave the warmth of the blankets laid over his bed, you’re met with a breeze that has you shiver slightly.

Barty tugs at your arm as you swing your legs over the bed and lean to grasp your wand, “Come back to bed” he mumbles as he tries to pull you back under his green bedsheets.

It’s earlier than you would normally wake up, around 4AM you’d assume, given the dark sky you can see from the window to the left of Barty’s bed.

Barty and yourself both knew that the consequence of spending the night in his dorm meant that you’d have to sneak out the following morning before anyone else woke up.

It was one of the worst parts of keeping your relationship a secret. Barty hated sneaking around, not being able to tell anyone how much he adored you or having to reign in his possessive and jealous nature.

He had to grit his teeth and stand by as some brave – or rather stupid – Gryffindors tried their luck with you in hopes of asking you to Hogsmeade. Barty however found relief in being able to hex them in the corridors which was expected from students in Slytherin.

“You know I can’t stay” You whisper into the quiet of the room and Barty only gives a grumbled response, his dark hair framed across his pillow as he blinks open his eyes to pout at you.

“I’ll hex anyone that says anything, just come back to bed” he says again and although you roll your eyes, you can’t help the little flutter within your heart at the sentiment.

“You also know it’s not about the Hogwarts student body” you say pointedly as you reach for an old long sleeve quidditch jersey of Barty’s  to lay over your pyjamas to shield you from the cold.

Barty’s irritated groan is louder than it needs to be for this early in the morning, though you can’t help the small laugh that leaves you as he throws what can only be described as a small tantrum.

“I’m going to kill my father one day” Barty swears, and you snort before gathering the rest of your clothes, kissing Barty sweetly before hurriedly making your way to your own common room.

Interhouse relationships within Hogwarts weren’t necessarily looked down upon, It often fostered unity within the Hogwarts community and was sometimes even encouraged.

Although, with that knowledge also came the understanding of house rivalries. Gryffindor and Slytherin’s house rivalry was one of the most well known rivalries within the school.

Tensions only grew  higher as house loyalties filtered into external loyalties, as pureblood Slytherin students’  families affiliated themselves with Voldemort and the dark arts and as Gryffindor families chose to walk the line of the light.

Therefore, it was only reasonable to assume that your relationship with Barty, if public knowledge, would cause somewhat of a hysteria among students.

Not only that, considering that Barty Crouch Sr. was known to be intolerant politically of any support of Voldemort and his little cult, he was also equally intolerable of his own son.

One was more publicly known than the other however Barty knew full well, should news of his relationship with you reach the media, Barty would soon be associated with Voldemort and his fathers campaign would be in jeopardy.

So, therefore. A secret relationship between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin bloomed under moonlit skies and abandoned corridor kisses.

As you reached your common room, you made quick work of sneaking into your dorm as the rest of your roommates laid sleeping. Under the covers you close your eyes to allow yourself a couple hours of more sleep.

The following morning, as you sit at the Gryffindor table, slowly eating your breakfast as you try to rub the sleep out of your eyes, you can hear the loud chatter of the marauders to your left and Marlene’s grumbling to your right.

Your seat allows you to view the Slytherin table and you can make out the figures of Barty, Evan and Regulus all sitting huddled together. Barty meets your eyes over the tables and gives you a slight wink which has your cheeks warming.

You look down and continue to eat your breakfast as you converse with Lily about your classes for the day.

You’re disrupted by the sound of glasses shattering and gasps, a small wail cuts through the air and before you know it, you’re on your feet looking frantically at the Slytherin table.

Barty has his hands on Mulciber’s robes, his gaze angry and his form trembling. You can see Evan trying to talk him down and Regulus watching curiously. Barty seems to be yelling and you bring yourself out of your shocked daze to hear his voice.

“-SAY THAT AGAIN ABOUT HER, I DARE YOU!, I’LL CURSE YOUR ENTIRE FUCKING BLOODLINE, YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING TWAT!” Barty yells and gasps filter around the dining hall as Barty shakes Mulciber mercilessly.

Mulciber smirks menacingly before whispering something to Barty that has his nostrils flaring, he pulls back one of his arms to punch the living daylights out of the other Slytherin, however before he can he’s met with a curse from Avery that has his flying back into a wall.

Your heart stops as Barty’s head thuds against the wall, his form laying limp against the concrete. Your eyesight blurs at your tears but you can see the figures of Evan and Regulus standing up, wands at the ready as they throw spell after spell at Mulciber and Avery.

You hear commotion as Sirius and James both call out worried as a stray spell hits Regulus which has him down for a count before he stands up again, his gaze cold and unflinching.

You’re moving before you know it, running across the dining hall, away from Lily’s worried “Y/N don’t!-”, as you watch as Snape’s disgusted expression looks at Barty’s still slumped over figure.

Barty has a trail of blood running down his forehead, he stirs a bit as he looks up to be met with the end of Snape’s wand.

Snape stares at him boredly before he starts, “Sectum-”

“Don’t you fucking touch him” you hiss as you grasp your wand, hissing out a powerful ‘Expelliarmus’ that has Snape being thrown back towards Mulciber and Avery.

They both look at Snape in shock before they turn to your blazing form, your eyes manic as you stand protectively in front of Barty. Evan and Regulus both walk to stand at your sides as the three of you look towards Mulciber and Avery.

“Walk away Mulciber” you say coldly as the Slytherin’s eyes light up before he smirks lazily, “And the little bitch returns to her owner” Avery drawls.

Before you can reply, a strong stinging hex hits Avery that has him cursing as tears rise in his eyes.

“Watch your mouth Avery.” Evan says with his wand being held out in front of him. You look at him in shock and he only shrugs and gives you a small smirk, “You’re one of us.”

You nod softly, you catch the glimpse of a red light heading your way before Regulus moves in front of you to defend you. You hear James and Sirius cursing him out as they also run towards you three as Peter and Remus are instructed to call a professor.

“It’s ill etiquette to curse someone behind their back Mulciber, did your whore of a mother teach you nothing?” Regulus hisses as he hexes Mulciber with a body-binding spell.

Barty’s groaning distracts you from everything as he opens his eyes, confused as he looks around to see you, Evan and Regulus duelling Avery, Mulciber and what looks like Snape’s hunched over form.

“What?” he asks confused as he lifts his hand to touch the top of his head where his wound lies.

You quickly look at Barty’s form before throwing another body bind to Avery as you stomp towards their limp forms.

The first punch has Mulciber howling in pain as blood gushes from his nose, “You come anywhere near my boyfriend again, I will kill you.” You say, gaze unflinching.

Avery struggles under the spell before you kick him in his ribs, “Stop fucking squirming. It’s good to know when one has been bested, yes?” you say with a cold smile as you meet both of their angry yet scared gazes.

“If I see either of you near him again, I will hold true to my promise” you hiss, turning around to the amused yet proud looks of Evan and Regulus who have Barty between them, his form slighting leaning on Evan’s taller figure.

You walk a couple steps before you lift your leg to stomp it down into the middle of Mulciber’s legs which has Evan, Regulus and Barty wincing.

You nod and smile at the pained groan before walking swiftly to Barty, “You okay Bee?” you whisper softly as you look worriedly into his eyes before lifting your hand to lift his hair to get a better look at his wound.

You hiss at the blood before looking at Barty with worry, “We need to get you to the infirmary-”

“You’re so fucking hot” Barty says with a wicked smile.

You splutter and Evan groans to your left, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Regulus says disgusted from your right.

He’s distracted by  Sirius and James sprinting towards him with worry in their eyes. You drown out the sound of what sounds like Regulus being looked over and cursed for being idiotic for just blindly jumping into a fight.

Barty just smirks and looks at you, “Cat’s out of the bag then?” he asks with a hopeful look. You’re confused for a second before you bite your bottom lip with a small shrug, embarrassed.

“Yeah, sorry” you mumble before Barty tsks and pulls you into him, kissing you deeply. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this” he says against your lips.

You only smile and kiss him back

[crescenthistory]

saw ur post about all the angsty requests and i simply cannot let that happen so may i present my request of the lovely barty:

slytherin is throwing a party and barty is already there when reader gets there late but they can’t find each other bc it’s so crowded. but junior being, well him, he’s loud and brash and so some that’s a bad thing but to reader it’s so perfect.

i can imagine him standing on a table, maybe drunk, singing at the top of his lungs for his lovely treasure (reader) and when r does find him, they give him a light hearted scolding but thank him for always finding them in every crowd.

i love barty so much and when i imagine him in love, he’s IN LOVE and he’s so loud about it and it’s just perfect

- 🐈‍⬛

if nobody else has my back, i know komi has my back 🙏👯‍♀️ just a silly little drabble with our best boy

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, alcohol (firewhiskey), reference to smoking, slytherin party, pda, barty pov (so max chaotic energy), romanian!barty, kissing<3, slytherin skittles shenanigans all around

"You know, Junior," Dorcas drawled from where she was leaning against Marlene as one might lean on a wall. "You're supposed to at least pretend to enjoy spending time with your friends."

"Oh, come off it, Cassie," Barty replied while still not looking at her. His face was turned towards the ever-growing crowd in the Slytherin common room, eyes scanning. "You know I'd die for ya."

She mumbled something into her drink that Barty didn't quite catch, but Marlene apparently found hilarious.

"What's got him in a tizzy?" Regulus asked absentmindedly. Barty hadn't even noticed him reappear, but the sounds of liquids swishing revealed it was likely to get a drink and not to spend time with his lovely friends. Dorcas should really be scolding him.

"Y/N's not here yet." Marlene supplied it so matter-of-factly you might not have realised she is a recent addition to the group via Dorcas. Barty did not much care for her yet – but she wasn't wrong.

The two of you always attended parties together. Always had, since the first time Barty all but dragged you along and you found that you actually quite enjoyed them, as long as he was by your side. It had inflated Barty’s ego beyond what it probably needed to – according to Regulus, at least – but more importantly, it was one of the things that first made him feel secure in your relationship. Wanted, needed.

Barty was also at the point where he did not enjoy anything particularly much if you were not there. He could do shots with Evan and rile Dorcas up into picking on Regulus with him, but it didn’t give him that same buzz that ran over his exposed skin. Didn’t make his dead heart beat.

Tonight, though, for the traditional half-term rager thrown sloppily together in Slytherin, you were running late. By some terrible coincidence, you had your prefect rounds the same day, and could not get ready with Barty like you usually did.

He was left standing by the drinks table so that you could easily spot him whenever you returned – but as more and more people streamed in, your face was not among them. And the more crowded the room got, the rowdier it became, and Barty no longer had a clear sight of the entry. 

You could be here and he might not know. That just wouldn’t do.

“Hate to agree with the lion, but she’s right,” he announced then, clapping his hands together as he turned to his audience. Otherwise known as his friends and their mostly uninterested gazes. “My darling sweet angel, light of my life and yours is not here yet, and we need to do something about it.”

Regulus and Dorcas shared a look through bitten-back smiles. “And why is she not here?” Regulus asked, perhaps to avoid the last part of Barty's sentence.

“She has the audacity to follow rules and regulations,” Barty said with a straight face.

Regulus looked back to Dorcas for a translation. “Prefect rounds.” He rolled his eyes at that, a fellow abider of rules and regulations apparently. 

“Being the attentive individual she is, she likely overextended her help and ran late. And now there’s too many people here for me to spot her.” Barty spoke slowly, like he was spelling it out for children. Regulus’ huffing was becoming too frequent and petulant for his current taste. “So. Desperate times?”

He trailed off the end of his sentence, looking to Dorcas to complete it. Instead she asked, “What desperate measures are you aiming at here, B?”

A Cheshire cat grin split Barty’s face in half. “So glad you asked, my dear Dorc.”

Marlene winced and tightened her hold on Dorcas who had already opened her mouth, no doubt to tell him where to shove that nickname, but Barty was already backing away from the trio with his arms spread out wide.

He bodily pushed at a few fifth years standing around a table to make room for him to jump onto it, with no regard for the card game he was disrupting. The table was wobbly, but it carried Barty’s weight with no problem. From this new height, he could see most of the room clearly, eagle-like gaze already working overtime to see if there was a you to locate there yet.

Regulus walked up to stand in front of him on the ground. Barty grinned down at him questioning.

“Joining me, Reggie boy?”

“You wish.” Regulus moved his grip on a flask of firewhiskey to underneath it, so he could most effectively lift it up towards Barty without spilling any. “If you’re on tables already, you ought to have more in your system.”

“What a terrible influence you are, Black. I’m writing straight home to Walburga.” Immediately after his quip, Barty brought the flask to his lips, chugging, while Regulus rolled his eyes in a way that simply must be painful. 

Cheers from around Barty erupted at his very visible drinking, some already pissed students yelling chug, chug, chug. What can he say, Barty’s never one to back down from a challenge.

With an audible pop, he released the bottle from his lips and howled obnoxiously. He could hear Marlene yell a “yeah!” from behind him.

Maybe she wasn’t that bad.

Then, Barty at the top of his burning lungs yelled. “Y/N?! Dragă?!”

No answer. Or, well, no answer from you. Some stupid sods tried to respond, as if he’d ever call them darling.

“Oi! What are you on about?” Some bloke yelled at him from the opposite wall.

“Looking for my bird, you prick!” 

This earned him several wolf-whistles and hollers, which he promptly neglected as he turned around on the table, to no avail. He did not find you – but he had not exhausted the room in his search either. He still could not see every corner.

Using his thumb as a makeshift cap for the bottle, Barty cast a spell to move a table in the middle of the room closer to him while mid-leap towards it. His feet just barely hit the end of it, screech-laughing throughout his entire flight. 

This earned him even more hoots and hollers. Barty would be feeling quite chuffed if it wasn’t for your remaining status as missing. He took a few more swings of the bottle while his hungry eyes swept over all the heads. 

Then, the room must have lit up, because at last he saw you. Standing near the fireplace, squished between several other partiers, trying to gain your own bearings and locate your people.

“Dragă!”

Your head snapped up at Barty’s nickname for you, and the sweetest, most kissable smile spread across your lips. Oh, how Barty needed you to get your arse over here this instant.

He jumped off the table while punching the air in success, manhandling his way through the crowd towards where he now knew you to be. Smartly, you remained put, but your arms were opened for him by the time he got to you.

Swooping in, he abandoned the flask in favour of circling his arms around your waist and spinning you around, relishing in the giggles that escaped you.

“Buburuză, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” He spoke into your neck, breathing you in, before pulling away enough to see your face. His smile must be blinding.

“The other prefect didn’t show, so I had double the amount of work,” you said simply, as if that was not an egregious crime against the loveliest prefect there was.

He opened his mouth to say as much, but you cut him off with a kiss, lips curled against his. Barty couldn’t help but sigh happily into you.

“Which can be dealt with later,” you said pointedly once you felt you had mollified him enough with your kisses. “For now, it seems I have to catch up with you. Starting without me?” Whether you had seen the bottle or smelled it on his breath he did not know, he just wanted you to keep talking.

The teasing tone in your voice did something funny to his stomach. “Entirely Reggie’s fault – extensive peer pressure, I tell you. I have Dorcas as my witness.” He nodded solemnly, as if he was presenting his case for a judge.

You shook your head at him and breathed a laughter against his lips as you kissed him again. He surely tasted of firewhiskey and the smoke he had earlier, but you didn’t seem to mind – he loved you all the more for it.

“Come now, there is something we need to do,” he said the second you pulled apart. One of his hands found yours while his other settled around your waist, hooking his thumb in your waistband. 

You furrowed your brows in confused entertainment, but let him lead you through the crowd towards the table in the middle that he abandoned earlier. 

“Barty, what–” you tried to ask, but he tightened his grip around your waist and used it to lift you, abusing a poor chair as a stepping stone to get the two of you on top of the table once more. 

Before you could question him, he spun you around like a trophy and shouted above the music, “I FOUND HER!”, victory evident in his tone.

This time, the wolf-whistles and hollers were even louder, some students stomping their feet to create a drumming sound. You flushed under the attention, melting impossibly further into Barty’s side, but laughter spilled over your lips, albeit nervously. When he looked down, he found you beaming at him. 

He knew himself to look twice as lovestruck as you, but he was happy to report that that was saying something.

“Kiss, kiss, kiss,” came the chants from the crowd then.

When a brief once-over of you showed no discomfort despite your light embarrassment – you were growing rapidly immune to that through your relationship – he figured, who was he to argue with a drunken room?

He swept you into a deep and passionate kiss, bending you slightly backward with his wide hands splayed across your back. 

“Now that I’m reunited with my love, what do you say we get the party properly started, yeah?”

[iamgonnagetyouback]

hey!! can i request a christmas fic of barty x reader with the prompt "ho ho holy shit you look good.", maybe they're getting ready to a christmas party and junior says this after seeing reader's outfit

also, i hope you're having a good day!!

HO HO HOLY SHIT.⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ●ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ B. CROUCH JR

SUMMARY ৎ୭ ever since you put on your christmas party outfit, barty hasn’t shut up about how good you look— not that you mind

WARNINGS ಇ. slight humor, barty being extra, christmas fluff, a bit of cockiness A/N ಇ. thank you for the request, love ♡ hope you like it ‹𝟹

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 520

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The apartment buzzed with the warm scent of pine and cinnamon, the glittering Christmas tree in the corner standing tall like a beacon of holiday spirit. Barty was standing in front of the mirror as he adjusted his tie.

You, however, were a whirlwind of Christmas excitement. The party was about to start, and you'd spent hours picking out the perfect outfit. Now, standing in front of the mirror, you fluffed out the skirt of your dark green dress trimmed with white faux fur. The puffed sleeves and velvet bow in your hair completed the look.

"Alright," you called out from the stairs of the girls dormitory, your voice brimming with anticipation. "I'm ready!"

Barty didn't even glance up at first. "Yeah, yeah," he said lazily, still adjusting his tie. "Bet you're all decked out in some—"

His words died mid-sentence as he finally lifted his head and looked at you through the mirror. His jaw dropped.

"Ho ho HOLY SHIT!" he exclaimed, leaping away from the mirror with the kind of energy usually reserved for winning Quidditch matches. He stalked toward you with a cocky grin, his eyes doing a quick once-over that sent warmth rushing to your cheeks.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to hide your growing smile. "What? Too much?"

"Too much? Treasure, you're single-handedly putting every Christmas decoration in Hogwarts to shame," Barty said, spinning you around by your waist. "That dress, that bow, the sheer presence. I feel like I should be giving you gifts just for showing up."

You laughed, swatting at him lightly. "You're ridiculous."

"And you," he countered, leaning in conspiratorially, "are a literal Christmas miracle. Do you know how hard it is to make me speechless? This is history in the making."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the grin tugging at your lips. "Oh, please. You make yourself speechless every time you look in the mirror."

"True," Barty admitted with a dramatic sigh. "But tonight, you’ve outdone even me. I'm genuinely considering rewriting my Christmas wish list to just say: You in this outfit, forever."

Your laugh was bright, and Barty's eyes twinkled with pride. "You're impossible," you said, smoothing down the front of your dress. "Now, come on. We’re going to be late."

But Barty wasn’t done. He leaned against the doorframe, blocking your exit with a playful smirk. "Hold up. Before we go, there’s a serious matter we need to discuss."

"Oh?" you crossed your arms, tilting your head. "And what’s that?"

He pretended to think, tapping his chin. "Well, I’m worried about you, babe. If you walk into that party looking like this, I’m gonna have to spend the whole night fighting off admirers."

You snorted. "As if anyone could compete with your overconfidence."

"Exactly!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "The pressure on me is immense. But I’ll do it—for you."

You grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door, shaking your head. "You’re such a dork."

"Ah, but I’m your dork," Barty said, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you walked down the hall. "And tonight, I’ll make sure everyone knows it."

©iamgonnagetyouback౨ৎ please refrain from copying, translating, or reposting any of my work

[peppermintkissesxoxo]

Dress Up

Poly!Rosekiller x gn!Reader

Cw: boys dress up reader, d/s dynamics bc it’s Evan, objectification kinda? Boys treat reader like a doll essentially

🥀

You feel like a doll.

Standing on the plush emerald rug in the middle of your walk in closet, frilly panties and a matching bra are your only cover while your boyfriends hold up various clothing articles to your body and debate which one you’re wearing for dinner.

This isn’t a new occurrence. Date night means the boys get to play dress up with you. It’s an agreed thing that you practically signed up for when getting into a relationship with them. But no matter how often they do it, it doesn’t stop a certain heat from seeping into your cheeks.

They love to dote on you, spoil you excessively if you will. It was hard to accept at first. The lavish gifts and constant attention, but you’ve learned to love it. To expect it.

That doesn’t mean you don’t like to push the boundaries of their playtime a little bit.

“I think the velvet goes best with those little white socks. The ones with the lace.” Evan murmurs, brows furrowed and deep in thought as he eyes a black velvet babydoll dress. Probably too short to be appropriate but that’s never deterred them. As Barty has said numerous times ‘you can wear whatever you like, treasure. We can fight.’

While they’re distracted you stray from your set position on the rug, thumbing through a few items and attempting to pull out a different dress when you feel a hand batting yours away. And then another pulling you back to the middle of the room and straightening up your posture.

“I told you to stand still, poppet.” Evan says, an unimpressed scowl on his lips. His grip on your arm while not harsh is firm.

A petulant huff escapes your lips, shoulders slouching forward in defiance before Evan quickly pushes them back into to place with heavy palms

“Was just looking…” You murmur, a bit embarrassed at his chastising and manhandling. But you know Evan takes this dress up time very seriously. It’s almost amusing how dedicated he is to dolling you up.

“And you know the rules,” he chides.

“Don’t you get yourself in trouble now, tres.” Barty snickers, currently bent at the waist and rummaging through a box of socks and stockings.

You grumble under you breath but quickly right yourself when you catch the look Evan is giving you. He’s silent but it rings loud.

Strike one.

With a swallow you look down to your fingers, twisting them and avoiding his gaze. “Okay. I’ll stay still,” you concede.

A soft pinch to your hip startles you. “You better. Would hate for you to get to strike three on date night,” he muses.

“Okay, well you don’t have to be mean about it,” you joke, half flustered and barely keeping it together at his thinly veiled threat.

The corner of his lip twitches up. His pinches your chin between his fingers and swoops down to your height. “F’course I do. A little doll like you needs a firm hand, don’t you? Need to be taken care of and spoiled. And sometimes you need someone else to do thinking for you. Cause you’re just a little doll, hmm?” He coos, the sound so condescending yet sweet that it has your head swimming in ditzy confusion.

Before you can even fully process how fuzzy you feel, Evan is back to his outfit searching. Paying no mind to your flustered state.

It’s safe to say you’re quite docile for the rest of their ‘playtime.’

[solsential]

Heavy [Barty Crouch Jr. x Reader]

Summary Barty can’t stay from you but has a weird way of showing it

wc: 1.6k

cw: Barty and his mind games, unclear intentions, kissing, ending doesn’t provide much comfort, Barty being confusing, distress

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” You felt Pandora's eyes on you, her voice calm but tinged with something observant, “Are you alright?”

You shrugged, trying to play it off because truthfully you had no reason to feel upset, or at least you thought so, “Just tired, I guess.”

You tried to sound convincing enough, and maybe you would’ve if it were anyone else, “Well, I won’t make you talk. But if you want to talk…”

“I’m fine, honestly,” you pursed your lips, looking around the common room, “I’m just not feeling the party tonight”

“She won’t leave you alone until you say something.” Regulus teased, sitting down on the arm chair across, leaning back with his recently refilled drink in his hand.

“Oh shut up, I’m just looking out for our friend, unlike some people.” Pandora rolls her eyes, though there is no real bite to her words.

Regulus lets out a quiet, half-amused chuckle at her words before they begin joking and bickering once again. However, in that moment you felt a familiar presence settling next to you. The music seemed to pump louder. You could feel the energy of the crowds that seemed to whirl with energy. Barty. You didn’t have to turn to even look at him to know it was him; you could feel his presence as he lowered himself beside you, his shoulder grazing yours slightly.

Your thoughts flashing between Barty and the strange distance you felt with him. He leaned closer than necessary- always too close and for way too long. His touch lingered, his fingers would sometimes brush yours or his hand rested way too casually behind you. It was subtle, but it always made you uneasy.

Sometimes you’d catch him staring at you from across the room, and he wouldn’t even bother to look away when you’d catch him staring. Some days he was “sweet”. But then, on other days he’d act like you were invisible, he wouldn’t even spare you a glance.

It was maddening. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint when things changed, but they did. And as time passed, it only made it harder to decipher his intentions. One moment, he could be all charm and confidence, wrapping his words around you like they were meant for you only. Then he’d pull away. It made you feel like a fool for even trying to understand him. You would tell yourself that it didn’t matter; that's how he'd always been. You didn’t have to figure him out, even though deep down you wanted to, you wanted more even though you were unsure if Barty was even capable of giving you more. That’s how it’d been with Barty recently.

“You don’t look like you’re having fun,” Barty teased, pulling you from your thoughts, his voice light but a flicker of something else in his eyes.

“I’m fine” you grumbled, shifting a bit uncomfortably and looking forward to the people dancing pretending to look interested, mostly trying not to lose it.

Barty notices your mood, but still doesn’t step back, “Oh come on, you look like someone pissed in your cereal,” He let out a breathy laugh, a smirk tugging his lips upward.

“I said I’m fine, Barty. Just not in the mood.” You roll your eyes.

“Not in the mood, huh?” He smirked, looking at you teasingly, “That’s a first.”

His eyes met yours, and you felt a pang of frustration, you weren’t in the mood, not tonight. Not for Barty and his stupid mind games. “You’re one to talk,” you shot back, feeling his attention on you that you desperately craved, “You’re the one who enjoys making everyone feel like they are a part of your little performance.”

“Maybe I just like an audience.” He smirked, leaning closer and his voice dropping, “Or maybe it's not just an act”

“If it’s not an act then what is it?” you asked, your voice more defensive than you originally intended.

He tilts his head, looking at you closely, studying you as if he is trying to read your mind, “Maybe I’m just trying to get your attention.”

“You have my attention” you said flatly, unsure where this was going.

“Not in the way I want it,” He says a bit too casually, but his face looks a bit contemplative.

You stare at him, confused and in disbelief. What does he mean? I thought you'd made it obvious that he had you. “Barty, I don-”

“Forget it.” He says way too quickly, not even letting you finish your thought before he turns away. Still sitting so close to you, but his attention is no longer on you.

Barty decided to join in the conversation with Regulus and Pandora instead. The conversation around you began to blur, your mind elsewhere as you pretended to listen. You shifted in your seat. His knee brushed against yours, lingering there for a moment. You felt frustrated and confused.

After a while the chatter began to blur around you, you could faintly hear Pandora laughing at something one of the boys said. You felt like you needed to hide or to just be somewhere- anywhere that isn’t here, next to Barty. You stood up, “I’ll be back in a bit.” you mutter before walking away.

You assumed they thought you were only heading to the bathroom or to get a drink. You avoided Barty’s gaze as you stepped away. Christ sake, why were you letting this affect you so much? And what had he meant to say before changing his mind? He had you, what else did he want? What else do you have to do for him to understand?

You slipped out into a quieter corridor. The cool air hitting your skin immediately, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding in for so long.

You didn’t exactly know why you let Barty get under your skin…you had some idea. But it wasn’t like he changed much, he was still the cocky and unpredictable boy he’d always been, you just don’t understand why he had changed with you. You had always been spared of his attitude, so why now? Why the sudden shift?

“Running off like that?” You didn’t have to turn around to once again know who it was, “You’re not trying to avoid me now, are you?” Barty drawled.

“Not everything is about you, Crouch.” You replied, your voice steadier than you were.

“Crouch? Ouch.” He repeated the way you referred to him, chuckling a bit at that and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Why do you do this?” you ask, words slipping out of your mouth before you could even stop them. You’d had enough of whatever the hell this was.

“Do what?” He furrowed his brows, his gaze intently on you that you felt his sharp eyes piercing right through yours trying to understand what you mean, “What am I doing?”

“You- One minute you’re all over me then the next you can’t even bother looking at me.” You draw out the irritation evident in your voice, “I mean, what the hell?”

For a moment he doesn’t respond, the confusion on his face wiping away. You couldn’t tell what the expression on his face meant as he stood there. After a moment, his smirk reappears but this time it looks forced “I’m trying to figure it out. You make it impossible for me to stay away from you,” He finally says.

He steps closer, his sharp (and beautiful) gaze on as he reaches up, his hand caressing your cheek. If it were another time you’d normally swoon over this small touch, however, at this moment you feel angry and confused, but you can’t deny how his touch makes your knees weaken, “Admit it or not, you feel the same way.”

You stand there, utterly shocked. How dare he. How dare he have this effect on you? How dare he dictate your feelings for him and assume, and how dare he be completely accurate?

His hand is still resting on your cheek, his thumb lightly brushing against your cheek. You could hear your heart pounding as your heart rate begins to increase, and you’re convinced Barty can hear it too. He leans down closer, and you could hear your mind screaming at you to pull away, that this was just another one of his games. But you can’t pull away, thinking with your heart instead, the way you always do when Barty is close to you like this.

You could see the struggle in his eyes, hesitant but his lips part anyway. His lips brush against yours lightly, as if he is testing the waters at this very moment, however, you are too far gone to even care. You push your head forward, attempting to catch his lips. Barty smirks when he sees you do this- this little- your thoughts were interrupted when he pulls you in for a proper kiss.

It was hungry and urgent, the kiss was. He pulls you closer to him, placing one of his hands on the back of your neck.

The kiss wasn’t cruel, but it wasn’t gentle. It was his form of a declaration, messy and full of hunger for you. After the kiss has gone on for a while more, he pulls away with an expression that is not quite readable, just like most of his expressions.

“You mess me up” he muttered, his voice breathless and intense.

“Right back at you,” you whispered, “I don’t know if I want to strangle you or kiss you again.”

“How about both?” He smirked wickedly at you before pulling you in again.

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

Maybe you're just not worth it (maybe you're worth a little more)

born into the world with two left feet in the grave - series masterlist here

pairing: barty crouch jr x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.5k

genre: fluff, kinda angsty ig

warnings: smoking, drinking, it's a party, vague allusions to hook ups, a fight breaks out but it's only vaguely described, may I offer you the two most emotionally damaged ppl you've ever seen, there's tension and pining and they don't get together yet but it'll happen

a/n: hey finally lololol this should be a fun one but lemme know if anyone cares enough to want more of this

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Fuck around with them like that?"

"I don't know what you mean, Barty," you shrug easily, twirling a cigarette between your fingers. You're propped up on one of the grand, stone windowsills in a hidden corner of the Slytherin common room, the blue-green light filtering in from the lake through the stained glass and washing over the two of you.

"Yes you do," Barty scowls, and when he stomps over to you and reaches out, you move to hand him the cigarette. But he just wraps slender, pale fingers around your wrist and lights it for you with a flick of his wand. Then he watches, tall enough to tower over you still as you sit on the sill and he stands, as you blow smoke just past his face. 

"Why are you looking at me like I'm doing something wrong?" you ask softly, tipping your head back against the cool stone wall. 

"I just don't know why you do it."

"Do what?"

"We're talking in circles," Barty snaps.

"So say something new," you quip back. He places his hands on the windowsill just shy of where you're sitting, leaning a bit closer to you. This time, you blow a puff of smoke right into his face, watching as he blinks through it. 

"Are you really going to make me work for it?" he sighs, but there's an airiness in his voice that isn't often there.

"You're a clever boy, Barty. That's what makes you so fun." You watch as he plucks the cigarette from your grasp. "Ask the right questions and you'll get the right answers."

"You don't have fun with me," he says lowly, and this time a frown tugs at his lips as he tilts his head away from you to blow smoke off to the side before passing your cigarette back to you. "Why do you fuck around with all the guys like that?"

"That's not the right question, Bart," you offer gently in lieu of a response.

"I don't care," he scowls. "Answer it anyway."

"It's just fun," you shrug. "That's what these parties are for, right? We all go, we drink, we flirt, we - it never really means anything, you know."

"I know," Barty stresses, frowning at you still. "That's my point. You're playing games that only you can win."

"You… worried I'm gonna hurt someone's feelings?" Barty's sure that it's supposed to come out as light and teasing, but your voice is quiet instead and you can't quite look at him anymore as you pluck at a stray thread on your ripped jeans. "Is it Evan? He'll be ok - he doesn't care about me, either."

"I'm worried about your feelings," he responds in a rushed sigh, and the comment makes your fidgeting fingers freeze. Your foot slips where it's propped up on the windowsill.

"I thought I was winning? Can't do that with my feelings hurt, can I?"

"You are winning." Barty reaches gentle fingers to wrap around your ankle, keeping you from slipping further off the ledge. "I'm just not sure this game is so good for you, that's all."

"I don't need a babysitter, babe," you snap back with a mocking tilt to your voice, and there's a bit more bite in your words than he deserves, probably. But Barty just tightens his grip on your ankle and stares.

"I'm trying to ask you the right question," he stresses, and the genuine waver in his voice has you pausing, twisting to put out your cigarette on the stone sill before you lean back against the glass and watch him.

"No you're not," you say quietly. He shifts, placing his hands on either side of your hips now as you spread your legs a bit to let him stand closer in front of you.

"I am," he insists gently, and a scrambling, desperate part of your brain pleads for some kind of sanctuary from his kindness - pleads to go back to before he showed you that he knew how to be gentle. "You're not letting me in."

"What are you talking about?"

"Why don't you fuck around with me the way you fuck around with them?" And there it is, you think. And as soon as it's here, you wish you hadn't pushed for it. You wish he hadn't twisted the knife quite so far into your soul.

"Do you want me to? Hm?" It's a weak attempt, you both know, to gain some kind of control back from him. But Barty's crossed some kind of line, he knows, and he's never really learned how to back down from things like this.

"I want to know why you don't," he offers firmly, and you tilt your head to look past him into the busier part of the common room, the music rattling through people's drinks as smoke curls through the mass of students.

"Maybe you're just not worth it," you say lowly, and Barty huffs out an annoyed breath while he angles his head to look you in the eye again, trapping you in whatever it is that you're not admitting.

"Why don't you ever tell me the truth?"

"Why do you always let me get away with lying?" He's got an answer for that, you're sure. You're also sure that he's clenching his teeth together instead of telling you to spare you, just a bit. You feel a bit like a prey animal, caught between him and the window right now. You feel a bit like he's cracked your ribs open and can see the way that your heart beats in an off-kilter rhythm. 

You feel a bit like biting back - like telling him to fuck off and find someone else to whine to. But then he reaches to twirl a lock of your hair out of your face and you find yourself sighing in resignation, instead, slumping down just a bit against the cool glass.

"You're not worth it, Bart. You're worth a little bit more than all that. That's all it is."

"A little bit more, hm?" he pushes, and you roll your eyes in a vacant attempt to hide the way that your heart thumps at his voice - at the warbled little insecurity that twists somewhere almost unseen in him.

"You deserve something good," you offer haltingly. He scowls a bit at that - and you know his ticks and his movements enough to know it as an act of love.

"And you don't?"

"I have what I deserve - what I want, I mean." Your head's starting to hurt, you think, something about the music and the alcohol and Barty mixing together into some kind of oncoming illness - some kind of reason to run away.

"Why do you mess with people so much? Why can't you just - be honest, god, for fucking once." There's a bit of bite coming back to Barty's voice, and you can't help but perk up at it, recognizing this more than anything else.

"You're the only one who ever knows when I'm lying, you know," you say instead of answering, and Barty knows you well enough by now - knows your movements and your subtleties enough to know it as an act of surrender. 

"Of course I do," he sighs. "You're my…"

"Friend?"

"I wouldn't say that."

"Ouch," you say dryly. He shoots you a pleading look.

"I'm not this nice to my friends," he offers softly. You cock your head to the side.

"And I'm not this mean to mine." Barty hums a bit at that, leaning back on his heels as he lets his eyes sweep over your frame. 

"You're allowed to be, you know."

"What?"

"Kind," he says simply. You reach up to flick him on the forehead.

"Speak for yourself," you murmur, but he's staring at you like he's not sure how to let you get away this time. 

It's a shame, then, he thinks, when the party just beyond the two of you gets a bit too rowdy. It's a pity, really, when a fight breaks out - Evan and Regulus getting tangled up with a few loud Gryffindors. Barty swears that he sees the older Black brother mixed up in it, too, and pulls a hand away from the windowsill as he gets caught between helping or hurting. He sways on his feet a bit as he wonders whether to try to break up the fight or if he should just join in. 

Then he thinks that maybe… he understands a bit more what it is that you're not saying to him. 

"Better luck next time, Bart." It's your voice in his ear, then, that jerks him back, and he doesn't have time to appreciate the way that you've leaned up on your toes and wrapped your hand around his bicep to whisper in his ear. He doesn't have time to catch you or trap you again before you're slipping away into the fray, disappearing into some sweaty, dark corner of a party gone stale. 

One of the Gryffindors stumbles out of the fight, his round glasses askew and his dark curls tousled, and Barty rolls up his sleeves and sighs.

Oh well, he thinks as he grabs the older boy by the collar of his shirt. Better luck next time.

[bartonomy]

RESTLESS SILENCE!

PAIRING Barty Crouch Jr. x quiet!fem!Ravenclaw!Reader

SYNOPSIS Barty Crouch Jr. hated silence. You thrived in it. Being paired together for a Potions project in the library should have been simple—but Barty refuses to let the quiet win.

CONTENT WARNING obsessive! barty, possessive! james, angst, fluff, the boys not asking yn abt her feelings LMFAO lmk if i missed something!

WORD COUNT 5k words

library.

Barty Crouch Jr. prided himself on many things—his sharp mind, his quick reflexes, his ability to get under people’s skin ( much to Regulus’ and Evans dismay) when he wanted to. But patience? That had never been one of them.

And yet, patience was exactly what was required when he found himself sitting across from you in the library, parchment spread between you, potions textbook propped open, the air between you thick with silence.

It wasn’t just any silence. It was a suffocating, calculated quiet, the kind that settled around the you like a second skin. You liked it. Humming in contentment as you flipped through the book to gather enough information for your assignment.

It drove him mental.

You had been partnered up in Slughorn’s class earlier that day, much to Barty’s irritation. You were everything he wasn’t—controlled, meticulous, the sort of person who took diligent notes and never spoke unless you had something of actual substance to say. The worst part? You were no outcast. Despite your quiet nature, you were as well-liked, hovering at the edges of the Marauders’ usual chaos, laughing softly at Pandora Lovegood’s dreamy theories, and using your smart mouth (Gideon insists) to get the Prewett brothers out of trouble from Mcgonnagall. You were… respected.

Barty was tolerated, at best.

Now, in the dim glow of the library’s enchanted lanterns, you sat across from him, quill in hand, completely ignoring him. Well, unintentionally, he had been fussing in his place since you both arrived an hour ago, trying to get you to do merlin knows with him.

Barty exhaled sharply through his nose, slumping back in his chair. “You could at least pretend to be interested in conversation,” he muttered.

You didn’t look up. “I don’t find unnecessary conversations stimulating.”

He scoffed. “How very Ravenclaw of you.”

You merely hummed in acknowledgment but said nothing more, flipping to another page in his (you lended yours to Peter after he accidentally got soaked by the bucket of water from the black lake intended for Snape) textbook.

Barty’s fingers drummed against the table. He could handle a lot of things—detentions, duels, even his father’s unrelenting scrutiny, but this? This was insufferable.

So, naturally, he decided to make it his mission to ruin the silence.

It started small.

A flick of his wand, and your inkwell slid ever-so-slightly across the table. You caught it before it could spill, shot him a glance, and continued writing.

Next, he nudged your parchment just out of reach. You didn’t even blink, simply shifted your chair forward and carried on.

Fine. If you were going to be stubborn, he’d up the stakes.

With another subtle movement of his wand, your beloved muggle book „The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie“ the one you had tucked beside your Potions text, began to quiver. Slowly at first, then more violently, the pages ruffling as though caught in a windstorm.

you sighed, set your quill down rather roughly, and calmly muttered, “Finite Incantatem.”

The book stilled.

Barty whistled. “Impressive.”

You finally looked up at him, expression unreadable. “It‘s a First Year spell. Are you always this restless?”

He grinned. “Are you always this boring?”

There was no offense in your gaze, only quiet scrutiny. “No. But I also don’t feel the need to fill the silence just because it makes you uncomfortable.”

Barty opened his mouth, then shut it again.

No one had ever called him out so plainly before. Most people either avoided him, tolerated him, or challenged him outright. But you… you understood him in a way that unsettled him.

And worse, he had no idea what to do with that.

The pranks escalated.

By the end of the week, Barty had:

• Transfigured your quill into a small snake (you turned it back with no regard of his presence, only Trelwaney who shrieked in horror).

• Enchanted your book to read aloud in a dramatic voice (you merely bookmarked your page and waited for him to get bored).

• Jinxed your notes to rearrange themselves whenever you tried to read them (you rewrote them without complaint).

Each time, you met his antics with infuriating patience. No anger. No exasperation. Just quiet indifference, as if you knew exactly why he was doing it.

It wasn’t until he charmed your beloved novel to hover just out of reach that you finally had enough.

With a soft Expelliarmus, the book yanked itself free from his spell and slammed down onto the table between you. you met his gaze, eyes burning with guarded anger.

“Why?” you asked, voice level but firm.

Barty leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm. “Why what?”

You exhaled, slow and measured. Merlin, was he testing your already low patience “Why go to such lengths just to get a reaction?”

Barty opened his mouth to fire back something witty, but the words caught. He couldn’t answer.

Because the truth was something he didn’t want to admit. Because silence had never been kind to him. Because silence meant expectation, the weight of his father’s disapproval, the loneliness of never being enough. Because he didn’t know how to exist in a world that didn’t constantly react to him.

You watched as something shifted in his expression—something raw, something unguarded. And for the first time since you had been paired together, you didn’t seem like you were trying to solve him.

You just saw him.

The silence stretched between you once more. But this time, it didn’t feel suffocating. This time, it felt like something else entirely. Something dangerous. Something inevitable.

The library had become a battlefield.

Barty didn’t lose. Not at duels, not at arguments, and certainly not at mind games. But after a week of relentless pestering, pranks, and jinxed books, but all he was met with was radio silence.

And Barty hated being ignored.

Tonight was no different.

You were back in your usual spot in the potions section near the back, candlelight flickering over parchment, and you were sure you could hear people snogging in the aisle next to you. Barty wasn’t writing. He was watching, and it pissed you off.

“Fascinating,” he drawled, chin resting on his palm.

You sighed, not even bothered to look up. “What is?”

“You,” he said simply.

At last, you glanced at him, one brow slightly raised. Not surprised, not flattered, only curious and slightly amused. As if he was some interesting tale from Trelawney‘s weekly horoscopes

Barty leaned forward, smirking. “You’re too patient for someone who spends time with the Marauders. They’re reckless. Loud. Gits.”

Your lips twitched in almost a smile. “And yet, I don’t find them insufferable.”

“Lucky them,” he muttered.

You tilted your head, studying him. “You don’t actually hate them, do you?”

Barty scoffed, leaning back. “Tell them that, and I’ll hex you.”

You hummed, unconvinced. “You could have joined them, you know. You’re clever enough. Quick-witted. You keep up with them in class.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What makes you think I wanted to associate myself with obnoxious Griffins? I have a reputation to uphold ”

You only raised your eyebrow at that. “Oh yes, because being a maniacal, havoc wrecking wizard is soooooo important”

He roared into laughter, clutching his stomach like you have given him the funniest joke in Salazars sake. Tears were dripping out the corner of his eyes with his ropes falling messily over his shoulder.

After his sudden burst of emotions, there was silence, well, as much as you could say from Barty‘s loud wheezing trying to calm himself down and a group of second year Hufflepuffs discussing the use of Mandrakes, the space between you two was peaceful

Then, you shrugged, rolling your shoulders back to ease the growing pain (or the growing tension that is about to engulf you two) “or maybe, its because you’re lonely.”

Barty went still instantly.

For a moment, the pleasant quietness became oppressive, thick with something neither of you wanted to name.

Then,he laughed again. Though, now, it was short, sharp, utterly devoid of humor. “You think you know me?”

“I think,” you started, carefully trying to puck out the right words, “that you spend too much time trying to get people to notice you, y‘know?.”

His smirk returned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And yet, you’re the one paying attention.”

This time, you didn’t look away.

Checkmate.

Barty wasn’t sure when it started.

When you became the first person he looked for in a room. When silence with you stopped feeling suffocating and started feeling… different.

It was a slow, creeping thing, like poison slipping into his bloodstream.

You weren’t like the Marauders. You didn’t fill space with noise or demand attention. You simply were, an observer, someone who noticed things most people didn’t.

And Barty hated being noticed.

The Slytherin common room was quiet this late at night, with most students crammed at the Hufflepuff quidditch After-party after they had won against Ravenclaw earlier that day. Except for Barty and Regulus.

The younger Black sat in one of the loveseats by the fireplace, posture perfect as always with his messenger bag on his side while across from him, Barty sprawled lazily on the couch, legs stretched out, looking more reckless (or crazy according to Evan) than usual.

Regulus had been watching him for the past ten minutes. The tension in his shoulders, the way he ran a hand through his Black-Green hair in agitation or the way his knee bounched when he thought no one was looking.

Finally, as if this thought gave him immense pain, he sighed. „You’re obsessed.“

Barty stilled. „What?“

„With her.“ Regulus arched an eyebrow knowingly

Junior scoffed, throwing his head back against the couch dramatically, flailing his arms „Oh, not you too!

Regulus ignored him. “It’s pathetic.” Barty turned his head, smirking. “Funny. Sirius said the same thing about you once.”

Regulus’ fingers twitched. “Sirius is an idiot.”

“And yet, here you are, acting just like him—concerned about my well-being, giving me the I know best speech.” Barty sighed, stretching his arms behind his head. “It’s sweet, really.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t care what you do.” Barty grinned. “Liar.”

Regulus exhaled sharply. “What is this, Barty?”

Barty hummed, considering. “I have no idea what you are talking about, Reggie”

Regulus frowned. “You’re distracting me by talking about my idiotic brother. So spill, what are you afraid of? ”

Barty’s smirk faltered. For a long moment, he didn’t answer. Just stared into the flickering fire, expression unreadable. Then, with a slow breath out “Everything.”

Regulus didn’t press. Didn’t have to. He understood better than anyone what Barty really meant. The weight of expectations. The suffocating presence of a father who saw only duty.

Regulus studied him for a moment. “You don’t get attached to people. Especially not to someone like L/N. " Barty’s smirk returned, but it was weaker this time. “Maybe she’s just different.”

Regulus leaned back, unimpressed. “Or maybe you just don’t like that you can’t control her.” Barty exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand through his hair. “And yet, I keep coming back.”

Regulus tilted his head. “That’s called liking someone, Barty.”

Barty scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Please. I don’t like people.”

“Then why does James Potter look like he wants to murder you?”

His expression darkened. “Because he knows.” the curly haired boy hummed thoughtfully. “Knows what?”

Barty looked him dead in the eyes.

“That she’s mine.”

Regulus sighed, standing up. “Merlin, you’re insufferable.”

But as he walked away, Barty didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just sat there, watching the fire, thinking about you.

It was , like Regulus said, James who noticed first.

Barty had expected it, really. The four eyed boy was too perceptive for his own good, especially when it came to people who operated in the gray spaces between morality.

One evening in the Gryffindor common room, James leaned against the couch where you were reading, arms crossed. “So,” he mused, “are you finally going to tell us why Crouch won’t leave you alone?”

You barely glanced up. “Because we’re Potions partners.”

Sirius, sprawled across an armchair, snorted. “Right. And I’m Minister for Magic.”

Remus, ever the voice of reason, tilted his head. “You do spend an awful lot of time with him.”

Peter nodded, mouth stuffed with fizzing whizzbees. “It’s weird.”

you sighed, closing your book without marking your spot first, which you internally curse. “He’s… frustrating.”

Sirius smirked. “But?”

You hesitated. Just for a moment. “But he’s not as easy to hate as people think.” That was all they needed to hear.

Sirius groaned dramatically. “Merlin help us, she’s sympathizing with the enemy.”

Remus grinned knowingly. “This is going to be fun.”

James Potter knew you better than anyone.

He had known you since you two were small—before Hogwarts, before the Marauders, before any of this. You had been his first real friend, little pigtails following him around, who always listened when he rambled about Quidditch, often times playing the referee and giving yellow cards to his imaginary opponents and someone who was there when he needed you.

And now? Now you were spending too much time with Barty bloody Crouch Junior.

James didn’t like it. Not one bit.

At first, he thought nothing of it. A Potions partnership was just that—a school assignment. But then he started noticing things.

The way you lingered in the library after hours.

The way Barty watched you fondly when he thought no one was looking.

The way you didn’t seem nearly as irritated with him as you should have been.

And that was unacceptable.

James wasn’t stupid. He knew who Barty Crouch Jr. was. The arrogant, sharp-tongued Slytherin who played by his own rules, who didn’t care about anyone but himself and his best friend‘s brother. And yet, somehow, he had wormed his way into your schedule, your attention—things James had always had without question.

He didn’t realize just how much it bothered him until he saw you two together.

It was a late evening in the library, and James had come to find you. Instead, he found your little pest stuck to your side.

Barty was leaning back in his chair, smirking, while you sat across from him, rolling your eyes but not actually telling him to leave you alone. There was something different in the air between them—an ease James didn’t like.

Not one bit.

“Oi.”

You looked up, blinking in surprise. “James?”

Barty groaned. “Oh, fantastic.”

James ignored him, focusing on her. “We were supposed to go over Transfiguration notes, remember? Minnie was bugging me to take lessons with you”

You frowned. “That’s not until—”

“Now,” James said firmly. Barty snorted. “Territorial, aren’t we, Potter?”

James’ jaw clenched. “Just making sure my best friend isn’t wasting her time.” He just grinned, all teeth. “Oh, trust me, she’s not.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples to ease the incoming headache. Is it from Barty‘s constant yapping, the oh so frustrating instructions of the Felix Felicis, or James bickering? Who knows. “James, we’re just working on Potions.”

“Right,” James muttered. “Because that explains why he won’t stop staring at you.”

Barty raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You jealous, Potter?” James hated how his stomach twisted at that. “Of you?” He scoffed. “Hardly.”

“Good,” Barty said smoothly, “because she’s free to spend time with whoever she wants.” The Gryffindor bristled. “And you’re free to bugger off.”

“James.” your voice was sharp now, cutting through the tension. you stood, gathering your books. “I’ll meet you in your common room later, okay?”

James hesitated, then exhaled sharply. “Fine.” But his glare at Barty said this isn’t over.

As he left, Barty chuckled under his breath. “Protective, isn’t he?”

“You love making things worse, don’t you?” you simply glared at him. Barty grinned. “Admit it. You’d be bored otherwise.”

You only shook your head at that, exasperated. But this time, you didn’t argue.

And Barty? He liked that just a little too much.

James Potter wasn’t the jealous type. At least, that’s what he told himself. But this—this infuriating, undeniable thing happening between his best friend and Barty bloody Crouch Jr.—was driving him mad.

It wasn’t just about Barty. It was about you.

You were his best friend. The one person who had always been there before Sirius, before Remus, before Peter. You had an unspoken understanding, a rhythm that no one else could touch.

And yet, somehow, you were slipping out of reach.

Because of that foul git.

Because wherever you were, Barty was not far behind.

Pandora Lovegood was an odd one. Everyone knew it.

She spoke in riddles, saw connections where others didn’t, and had a habit of appearing exactly where she was needed.

So James should have known better than to groan when she plopped down next to him on the bench in the transfiguration courtyard, humming thoughtfully.

“You’re sulking,” she observed. “I don’t sulk,” James muttered.

She smiled, entirely unconvinced. “It’s about her and him, isn’t it?” He scowled, borderline pouted. “There is no her and him.”

Pandora tilted her head. “Not yet.” at that, James sat up straighter. “Yet?”

Pandora just hummed again, her dreamy expression betraying nothing. “I think you’re afraid.”

“Of what? Crouch?” He snorted. “Please.”

“No,” Pandora mused. “Not him. You’re afraid because for the first time, she’s paying attention to someone else.” James didn’t respond. Because that would mean admitting she was right. The Rosier smiled knowingly. “You can’t stop it, you know.”

“Stop what?”

She simply shrugged, standing as if that answered everything. “The inevitable.”

James groaned. “Merlin, you’re worse than Moony.”

But as she walked away, her words lingered. And James hated that more than anything.

James found Barty alone that evening, leaning against the cobble stone wall just outside the Charms Classroom. He didn’t hesitate.

“Stay away from her.”

Barty turned, raising an eyebrow. “Potter,” he drawled, lips curling into a smirk. “This is getting predictable.” James stepped closer, jaw tight. “I’m serious.”

“Sirius is the loud one,” Barty quipped. “You’re the one with the tragic hero complex.” James hated that he had a point. “Whatever game you’re playing,” he said sharply, “she’s not a part of it.”

Barty’s smirk faltered. Just for a second. “Who says it’s a game?”

James scoffed. “Oh, please. You don’t care about her. You just like getting a rise out of people. And I won’t let you use her to do it.” Barty’s expression darkened.

“Use her?” he repeated, voice low, dangerous. “Funny, coming from you.”

James stiffened. “What the hell does that mean?”

Barty leaned in slightly, voice smooth as silk. “It means you don’t like that she’s spending time with me—not because you think I’ll hurt her, but because you can’t stand the idea of not being the most important person in her life.” James clenched his fists. Barty’s smirk was sharp, knowing. “Hits a nerve, doesn’t it?” James took a slow breath. He would not hex him.Not yet, at least.

“She’s my best friend,” James said coldly. “And I trust her. But I don’t trust you.” Barty’s gaze flickered—just for a moment. Then, with an infuriating grin, he stepped back.

“Well then, Potter.” His voice was almost mocking. “Let’s see who she trusts more.” And with that, he turned and walked away.

James stayed there for a long time, breathing heavily, hands clenched at his sides. Because for the first time, he wasn’t entirely sure who would win.

You were avoided him.

Not subtly. Not carefully. Just completely ignoring his existence

It started the week following the small… confrontation in library. Barty walked into Potions, expecting you to be at their usual table at the back, books already open,quill tapping absently against parchment, asking about his usual trouble with filch and a soft smile gracing your lips. Instead, your lips never opened and gaze never left your paper.

No glance in his direction. No acknowledgment at all.

Barty stared. His fingers curled into fists beneath the desk.

Fine.

But then it kept happening. In the corridors, you veered away when you saw him approaching. In the library, you sat with James, Sirius, even Remus—anyone but him. When he did catch youe eye across the Great Hall, you looked away so quickly it felt like a slap.

It wasn’t anger. It was erasure, like he wasn’t even there.

Barty Crouch Jr. had never been ignored in his life. People watched him. They feared him. They respected him, hated him, wanted to be him. But you—you were acting as though he was nothing.

And he couldn’t stand it.

At first, he played it off. Shrugged, smirked, pretended not to care. But then a week passed. Then another. And with every second of silence, something inside him frayed. He found himself watching you too closely. Waiting for you to look at him. Wanting your attention, even if it was anger, frustration, anything but this emptiness.

And when James Potter threw an arm around your shoulders at the Slytherin party, whispering something that made you laugh—

Something in Barty snapped.

You didn’t know how it had come to this.

One moment, you had been talking with Evan about absolute nonsense, nursing a cup of firewhiskey mixed with something you didn’t want to know, trying to focus on anything other than the tension between James and Barty, the way they seemed to be circling each other like wolves.

And now…

Now you were backed against the cold stone wall of an abandoned corridor, heart pounding as Barty loomed in front of you, eyes blazing with something wild, something dangerous.

“You’re avoiding me.” His voice was low, accusing.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I’m not.”

“Liar.”

You flinched. Not because you were afraid of him, Merlin, no—Barty is lunatic at best—but because there was something desperate in his voice, something fraying at the edges.

“I just needed space,” you said carefully. Barty let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Space? From me?”

His fingers twitched at his sides, and for a brief, terrifying moment, you thought he might actually grab you, hold you there like he could force you to listen. “You belong with me.”

The words sent a chill down you spine. Not because of their meaning—but because of how much he believed them. “Barty,” you whispered, voice betrying you slightly, much to your annoyance “you don’t own me.”

His jaw clenched. “I never said I did.”

“But you act like it,” you shot back. “Like I’m something for you to win. Like James and I can’t be close, like I don’t have a choice in who I spend time with.”

Barty exhaled sharply, stepping closer, invading her space. “You do have a choice.” His voice was low now, almost a plea. “So why do you keep running from this?”

This. Whatever this was.

You felt your breath hitch, your pulse racing as he stared at you, expression laced with something desperate.

“This isn’t normal,” you whispered. Barty tilted his head, studying you. “Since when have I ever been normal?”

Your heart ached at that. Because he wasn’t. He was sharp edges and chaos, wildfire wrapped in silk. And you were intrigued.

“Tell me to leave,” Barty murmured, voice softer now, more dangerous. “Tell me you don’t want me, and I will.”

You opened your mouth, words mingling in your head, yet none of them escaped your lips.

Barty’s smirk returned, but it wasn’t triumphant. It was something else—something satisfied yet frustrated, as if he hated how much he needed you to not push him away.

The next day, you felt off-balance. Everything was the same, yet nothing was.

The Great Hall was as loud as ever, filled with students laughing, chattering, passing notes between bites of dinner. James sat beside you, talking animatedly with Sirius about the shenanigans they pulled at last night‘s party. Remus was reading. Pandora was off in her own world, stirring her tea with the wrong end of her spoon.

It was normal.

But you weren’t . Because he was there. Across the room, at the Slytherin table. And he wasn’t acting normal at all.

Barty Crouch Jr. was watching you. His elbow was propped on the table, chin resting against his knuckles, eyes fixed on you with that sharp, playful intensity. Like he was waiting for something. Like he could still feel last night as much as you could—the heat of his breath, the weight of his words, the way he had opened your eyes.

Your stomach twisted but not in the usual dread

You quickly looked down at her plate, poking at the food with the fork, suddenly very aware of every movement, every breath.

It was fine.

You could pretend it hadn’t happened. You could move on, act normal, be the person she had always been. You could-

“You okay?”

James’ voice cut through your thoughts.

You startled, nearly knocking over your pumpkin juice. James frowned, eyes narrowing slightly behind his glasses.

“You’re jumpy,” he observed. “Weird day?”

Yes. Extremely weird.

“No,” you said quickly. “Just tired.”

James didn’t look convinced.

Barty was still watching. You could feel it. Your pulse quickened. You needed to get out of here.

With a forced smile, you pushed back from the table. “I just remembered-I have to grab something from the library before class.” James raised an eyebrow. “Now?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

You turned before he could question you further, walking briskly out of the Great Hall, heart pounding.

You should have known he would find you.

It had been inevitable. Barty Crouch Jr. wasn’t the kind of person who let things go. He didn’t believe in backing down, in walking away—especially not from you.

And so, a day after the Slytherin party, after you had spent the night pretending you weren’t looking over your shoulder for him, he found you.

The Astronomy Tower was, to your luck, empty. The moment you stepped onto the stone balcony, the cold air biting at your skin, you felt him before you saw him in your peripheral vision.

He was leaning against the railing, staring out over the darkened grounds, sleeves rolled up, hands tense against the stone. He looked different in the moonlight. Less sharp, less manic, less like the Barty Crouch Jr. the world expected him to be.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

“I hate my father.”

His voice was quiet. Hollow. You stiffened, startled by his sudden honesty, by the rawness in his tone.

Still, you didn’t leave. Didn’t move.

Barty exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t know what it’s like,” he murmured. “To be expected to be perfect. To be a reflection of someone else, someone you loathe.”

Your chest ached at the exhaustion in his voice.

You stayed silent, waiting.

Barty let out a sharp laugh, but there was no humor in it. “He thinks he can mold me into whatever he wants. A loyal son. A future politician. A Crouch through and through.” He scoffed. “But I’m not. I never was.”

He turned to look at you then, and for the first time, there was no smirk, no amusement—just something raw and vulnerable, something you had never seen before.

“I think,” he said slowly, voice quieter now, “that’s why I wanted you so much.”

Your breath caught unexpectedly.

Barty’s eyes flickered over your face, unreadable. “You don’t try to make me be something.” His lips twisted. “Even when you hate me, at least it’s real.”

Something heavy settled between you, thick and undeniable.

“And”, he started, face twisting into something uncomfortable, trying to find the right words. For a moment, he said nothing. Just looked at you—like he was fighting a battle you couldn’t see.

Then-

“I hate him too.”

The words were sharp, bitter, cutting through the silence like a blade. Your breath hitched. “Barty—”

“No.” He turned to face you fully, eyes burning. “I hate the way he hovers around you like he owns you. I hate the way he looks at me like I’m something filthy. I hate that no matter what I do, he’s always there.”

Your chest ached at the frustration in his voice, the way his fists clenched like he was barely keeping himself together.

“He’s my best friend,” you said softly. Barty let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “No. He’s waiting.”

You frowned at that. “Waiting for what?”

“For you to wake up,” Barty muttered. “For you to realize that he’s the safer choice. The one who won’t make your life complicated. The one who fits neatly into your perfect little world.”

You stared at him, stunned. “You think this is about James?”

Barty scoffed. “It’s always about him.”

Frustration flared in your chest. “Barty, I chose to stay away.”

He stilled.

“I chose to keep my distance,” you continued, voice surprisingly steady despite the inner hurricane you felt. “Not because of James. Not because of anyone else. But because you—”a sharp exhale left your mouth. “You scare me.”

Something flickered in his expression. “I’d never hurt you.”

“I know,” you whispered. “That’s not what I meant.”

Because this, the fire between them, the way he looked at you like he was drowning and you were the only air left—

It was too much. Barty was too much. And you weren’t sure if you were strong enough to handle it.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Then, slowly, Barty stepped closer. Not enough to touch, but enough that you could feel his warmth, enough that your breath caught in your throat.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he murmured.

Your pulse raced. “Then stop—” “Stop what?” His voice was rough now, almost desperate. “Wanting you? Needing you?”

“Barty—”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to stop.”

And maybe that was the real problem. Because Barty Crouch Jr. had never been good at letting things go.

And neither had you.

So when he reached for you, fingers brushing against your wrist like he wasn’t sure you’d let him, you didn’t pull away.

And when he kissed you, desperate and reckless and full of something sharp and aching,

you kissed him back.

[dismalflo]

…it’s me again from the last req. maybe you could do one where it’s like one of the pure blood boys(I was thinking maybe Sirius or barty) and it’s like they don’t realise how deeply rooted like the misogyny of how they grew up is in their brains. Maybe they make an offhand comment or action towards the reader that’s like almost passive aggressively sexist and she like totally calls them out on it and is like y, u can’t talk to me like that. did that make sense? I don’t think that made sense but oh well

thankyou for requesting!! i struggled with this one for a bit but its such a good idea. i hope you enjoy <3

Barty Crouch Jr. x fem!reader where he can't quite understand why you're upset ✩ 1.6k words

cw: misogyny, little bit angsty, hurt/comfort, Barty is a dick (but he tries to learn from it), reader plays quidditch.

an: sorry i made your fave a piece of shit (with redemption) it hurt to write

“ –you agree with me Reggie, surely.”

“I do not, thank you. And do I have to remind you that your girlfriend–”

Regulus cuts himself off when he sees you approaching, but the scowl directed at Barty doesn’t shift. Barty doesn’t seem to care as he, noticing your arrival too, turns to smile so wide, you’re sure it hurts his cheeks, forgetting the conversation all together.

“Treasure!” he exclaims as you sit yourself beside him, before planting a lingering kiss to your temple.

“What were you guys talking about?” you ask before nodding to Regulus, “Heard you mention me.” 

"Barty’s an idiot, Y/N, I’m sorry." Regulus sighs heavily, standing abruptly from his seat. "I'll see you at practice, yeah?" His gaze flicks to you, not a single word is directed toward the boy beside you, his arm comfortably wrapped around your waist. The snub feels sharp, though you're not entirely sure why.

“He’s become bloody dramatic since he started seeing potter.” Barty says cheerfully, as if he’s not the most melodramatic man you know. The only times you’ve seen Barty drop his theatrics is when it’s only the two of you. He’s still impulsive and daring but the fire gets dropped for sweetness and he's lovely. You’re his and he’s yours.

“What did you do to rile him up, Bee?” you tease, leaning into his side with a gentle smile. 

He squeezes your waist briefly, pulling you in closer before responding.

“We were talking about Quidditch, and he complained about one of your beaters. I said that it must be annoying trying to get the girls to listen, poor bloke.”

You blink, processing his words, and a cold chill starts to creep down your spine. It takes a moment for the reality of what he's said to fully hit you. 

"What did you just say?" You ask slowly, your voice steady.

Barty doesn't notice the shift in your demeanor. His grin only widens, his eyes sparkling with affection as he watches you. To him, it’s just another offhand remark; playful, maybe teasing, but never meant to hurt. It’s the way he’s always been.

"I said, it must be annoying trying to get the girls to listen," he repeats, as if it’s the most logical thing in the world. “Y’know because girls never stop talking.” he nods.

Your smile falters, and you pull back from him slightly. His arm falls from your waist, the space between you suddenly feeling miles wide. Regulus’s parting words echo in your mind, but you focus on Barty now. His face morphs into one of confusion, a flicker of amusement still lingering, but it’s clear he doesn’t understand why your mood has shifted.

 It’s laughable, really, coming from a boy that says everything that flashes through his mind, always loud and known. That’s just Barty and you’d never complain about it or ask him to change –you love him–but this rubs you the wrong way.

“You’d prefer that I didn't speak so much, then?” you ask, crossing your arms.

“Tres, I didn’t say–”

“But you did, Barty! I'm on that team! I'm one of the girls Regulus has to deal with!”

Barty blinks, clearly thrown off. His smile falters for a moment, and he opens his mouth, likely trying to smooth things over with some careless, half-thought-out joke. But when he sees the sharpness in your eyes, the edge to your voice, it makes him falter.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he begins, his tone defensive but still a little unsure, his hand coming up to run through his hair–because he’s frustrated or nervous you can't tell. “It’s just that, well… y’know, girls can sometimes be a bit more, uh, talkative than the guys–”

“Are you serious right now?” You cut him off, your voice not loud, but steady with the kind of controlled anger that makes Barty’s stomach twist.

Barty opens his mouth, then closes it, unsure of how to proceed. An uncomfortable feeling taking hold, but there’s also something inside of him—a deep-rooted, unexamined part of him—that wants to dismiss this as you being too sensitive. He’s never really thought about his own words that deeply, never had to. Growing up, he was surrounded by a very particular brand of masculinity.

"I didn’t mean to offend you, honestly," Barty says quickly, his voice softer now, though still with that edge of defensiveness. "I just meant that—"

"Yeah, I know what you meant," you interrupt, voice icy. "But the problem is, Barty, you're so used to saying whatever comes to your mind without thinking about it for one second. You don’t get to say things like that and just get away with it. "

He stares at you, his mouth opening and closing again, looking as though he’s trying to piece together exactly where he went wrong. His brow furrows, a flash of frustration crossing his face. 

"You're making it sound like I hate women or something. I don’t. You know I don’t. It was just a joke."

“No, I don’t think you hate women,” you respond coolly. "But you clearly don’t get how ingrained some of that shit is.” You stand up suddenly, ready to walk away. “I’ll see you later, Barty.” 

-

It’s just past curfew when you hear the knock on the door of the girls' dormitory. You open it, bleary-eyed and ready to tell whoever it is to sod off—only to find Barty standing there, hair a mess, eyes wide, hands full of... flowers?

They’re awful. Wild, lopsided things that look like they were pulled from the edge of the Forbidden Forest. And he’s holding them like they might explode.

“Hi,” he says, voice tight with nerves. “I—I brought these. They’re not from an actual florist or anything, but I thought maybe you’d like them anyway because... well, because I’m sorry. And I didn’t know what else to do.”

You raise an eyebrow, but you don’t close the door.

“I was a dick,” he continues, words tumbling out now like he’s afraid if he stops, you’ll shut him out for good. “A stupid, arrogant, loud-mouthed dick who didn’t realise that he’s been spoon-fed this idea that making fun of girls is just ‘harmless banter’. But it’s not. Not when it’s you. Not when it makes you look at me like I’m someone you don’t recognise.”

You lean against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“I don’t want to be that person,” Barty says, voice breaking a little now. “Not with you. You make me want to be—better, not just louder.”

The silence between you stretches.

“I hated how quick you were to dismiss it. To dismiss me,” you say, voice softer now, but still firm. “You’re smart, Barty. You should know better.”

“I do now. I was thinking about it and then I went to talk to Reg about it. He said it's something about the way we were raised, some batshit thing that goes hand in hand with my fathers bullshit, but I know that's not an excuse, tres.” He steps forward slightly, holding the scraggly bouquet out like a peace offering. “Please let me make it up to you.”

You hesitate. But in his eyes, you see none of the easy arrogance you’d grown used to. There’s only sincerity.

You sigh and take the flowers, fingers brushing his as you do. They're prickly in places, uneven, with leaves still clinging to the stems—but they’re honest. Wild and untamed, just like him.

Barty doesn’t grin. Doesn’t make a joke. He just walks in slowly, hands tucked into the pockets of his robes, like he’s afraid to breathe too loudly.

You sit on the edge of your bed, the flowers resting in your lap. He stays standing.

“I’m not good at this,” he says after a beat. “Like… not just the apologising part, but the learning part. I've been told I’m clever all my life, and it’s made me lazy. I don't question things unless they get in my way.”

You nod, watching him closely.

“But you’re not just someone in my way. You’re the person who makes all the noise in my head worth it. So if I’ve got to unlearn everything just to not lose you, I’ll do it.”

A breath catches in your throat. “This isn’t just about keeping me, Bee. It’s about being someone better. For you.”

His eyes flicker, glassy for a moment, and he sits down—tentatively—beside you. “I know.”

You glance down at the flowers again and then up at him, lips tugging into a small, reluctant smile. A silence settles between you.

 “These are hideous.” you say finally. “You can’t just fix things with flowers and guilt, Barty, It’s not that simple.”

“I know.” His voice is quiet, sincere. “That’s not what I’m trying to do.”

Barty reaches over, tentative, and places his hand over yours. He doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t try to pull you closer. He just stays.

“I’m gonna mess up again,” he says softly. “But I’ll listen. I’ll learn. And I’ll apologise when I do. Properly. Not with jokes.”

You glance at him, heart aching with something complicated and warm and stubbornly hopeful.

“You’d better.”

His smile is small, a little broken around the edges, but real. “Does this mean you’re not going to dump me?”

You pretend to consider it, then lean your head on his shoulder with a sigh. “You’re on thin ice, Junior.”

He huffs a laugh, and for the first time tonight, it sounds like him.

“I’ll take it,” he murmurs, resting his cheek against your hair.

masterlist <3

[uramakimochi]

hihihi babe i don’t know if you’re accepting requests but im love love loving the wolf star parents fics!!!! i was wondering if you might be able to write about everyone when r gets her first boyfriend or goes on her first date?? totally get it if not im just wondering babe!!!

HIII I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS^^ IT WAS FUN WRITING THE FIRST PART OF THIS FIC BUT I'M NOT SO PROUD OF THE REST SO I JUST HOPE YOU LIKE IT🩷

MEETING THE FAMILY

Wolfstar x daughter!Reader

Fred Weasley x Reader (i know, everyone always writes with him i'm sorry, but it just fits for the plot)

James Potter, Regulus Black & Barty Crouch Jr x Reader (platonic)

WARNINGS: this is just a crack fic lol, FEM!R + some use of Y/n, your Hogwarts house is not specified, Sirius and James being dramatic, Regulus and Barty being Slytherin threats, Remus being the most normal and Y/n being so done with her family. Maybe Fred is a little ooc? Idk.

English is not my first language so feel free to correct me.

"SHE HAS A WHAT?!"

Remus jumped when he heard Sirius' voice shouting from the living room, but before he could even ask him the reason for the shouting, he heard footsteps approaching him at a run, until Sirius' figure appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"SHE HAS A BOYFRIEND! OUR DAUGHTER HAS A BOYFRIEND!" Sirius yelled with wide eyes and Remus noticed the letter he was clutching in his hand. "AND I KNEW NOTHING ABOUT IT!!"

Remus rolled his eyes and went back to cooking lunch as if nothing had happened.

"Try asking yourself why she didn't tell you anything..." he murmured with a smirk.

"Ha ha ha, funny babe, really funny" Sirius retorted with a grimace. "Why doesn't that upset you??"

Remus shrugged.

"She's 15 Sirius, it's normal at that age to find a boyfriend. Don't be dramatic"

"It's Fred Weasley"

Remus dropped the spoon on the kitchen counter and slowly turned to face him.

"I beg your pardon?"

"So...Fred Weasley?"

You groaned, not looking up from your book when you heard Harry's voice behind your ear.

"Yes, Harry. Fred Weasley. Is there any problem about that?" you asked, turning the page.

Harry sat next to you on the bench at one of the four tables in the Great Hall. Strangely enough, Ron and Hermione weren't with him, but you knew that sooner or later they would join too.

"Honestly? You're practically my sister and it feels weird to know that you're dating someone" he said and you smiled in amusement. "Especially someone like Fred Weasley"

"And what does that mean?" you asked again, finally turning to look at him.

Harry shrugged without saying anything and you sighed.

"Look, Fred is your friend Harry, you know him. You should be glad i'm not dating Malfoy" you said and Harry made a disgusted face. "And then..."

You couldn't help the small sigh that left your lips as your eyes landed on Fred's figure, who was sitting at the table across from yours. As if he felt your gaze on him, at a certain point he too raised his eyes from his breakfast and met yours. He flashed you a smile and waved at you before giving you one of his winks that gave you butterflies in your stomach. You shyly waved back and Harry could perfectly see in your eyes all the love you felt for him.

"He's always sweet to me. He always makes me laugh" you said. "And he also gives me a lot of gifts"

Harry smiled slightly.

"How long have you been together?" he asked you.

Fred went back to chatting with George and Lee and you looked back at your best friend.

"For a while. We kept it under wraps at first because we wanted to make sure it was an official thing. We didn't want to spread false rumors, you know what i mean?" you said and Harry nodded. "You know, i invited him home for the holidays, to let him meet my parents"

Harry's eyes widened.

"He's going to meet Sirius and Remus??" he asked shocked and you giggled. "And you're not afraid of their reaction?"

You shrugged, closing your book and reaching for some toast. "Dad's usually the calm one, so it doesn't worry me. It's Sirius i'm worried about. You know how he is, he's very..."

"Dramatic" you chorused with amused smiles.

You began to eat your toast, until Ron and Hermione also joined you at the table and sat down across from you, starting a new conversation.

Remus and Sirius had taken it well... More or less.

"WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME THAT YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND?!"

"YOU ARE DATING FRED WEASLEY?!"

You jumped as you heard your parents' voices ringing in the living room. As you had told Harry, Remus was the less dramatic of the two, but he was still shocked that you were dating Fred Weasley.

"Dads…" you murmured, running a hand over your face.

"Darling i thought you liked Neville, i mean you're so alike! Or Harry! Or even a girl!" Remus exclaimed. "But one of the twins..."

"Harry and Neville are my friends, i never liked them that way" you retorted with hot cheeks. "And i don't like girls"

Sirius dropped dramatically into his chair. Typical of Sirius.

"My sweet little girl is going out with that rascal of Fred Weasley..." he murmured, covering his face with his hands. "Why couldn't you like Charlie or Bill?"

"I don't know Bill and Charlie and they are too old for me"

Remus pointed a finger at you. "Correct answer"

You groaned and crossed your arms.

"Look, i'm going to tell you both the same thing i told Harry. For your information, Fred is very sweet and kind to me and i care about him. A lot. So i'd like you to be nice to him the day he comes here, okay?"

"Ugh, does he really have to come to our house?" Sirius muttered, looking at you from behind his fingers.

"Do i really have to cook for him?" Remus asked back.

You rolled your eyes and went up to your room, ignoring their calls.

The day finally came when Fred would come to meet your parents. When you heard the front door bell you ran down the stairs from your room.

"He's here! Are you ready??" you asked frantically, looking at your fathers.

Remus glanced at his watch.

"I'm surprised he arrived even early" he murmured in confusion.

You walked towards the front door with an excited smile, but Sirius passed you.

"I'll open it!"

Your eyes widened and you immediately chased after him. "No! Dad!"

Just before Sirius could open the door, you glued yourself to his body, trying to drag him away.

"Let me go!" he exclaimed, trying to make you detach from his body.

"No!" you retorted, wrapping your arms around his waist. "You'll make him run away!"

"I just want to say hi, i swear!"

You turned your head towards the direction of the living room.

"Daaad!" you exclaimed, hoping that Remus would talk some sense into him.

"Sirius" came Remus' calm voice. "Come here, don't be a baby"

But before Sirius could protest, the door opened on his own and you and Sirius froze. But it wasn't Fred. It was...

"Uncle James?"

James flashed you a bright smile as your arms slowly loosened from around Sirius' body. The two men exchanged a high five and James looked at him worriedly.

"Am i late? Has he arrived yet?" he asked and you looked at him confused.

"Who?"

James turned to look at you with an obvious expression. "Your boyfriend, sweetheart. Of course!"

"Of course?"

"Of course! Harry told me that you are dating Fred Weasley and of course, as your favorite uncle, i absolutely want to meet him!"

Your eyes widened, while in your head you were already devising a plan to kill Harry the snitch without ending up in Azkaban. You turned to look at your father in shock.

"Did you tell him to come??" you asked.

Sirius shook his head with a smirk and raised his hands. "Your father and i have nothing to do with this, darling. I swear"

"Oh my god…" you muttered, turning to walk back into the living room. "Oh Salazar..."

Now you were panicking. You knew nothing about it, Fred knew nothing about it! What would he have thought if he had seen James too? Maybe he would have thought that you lived in a family of overprotective dramatic crazy relatives and he would have been scared and wouldn't want to deal with you anymore and-

The fireplace in the living room suddenly lit up and the green flames blazed for a few seconds until a person came out of them and you and Remus, who was sitting on the couch, opened your eyes wide.

"Good evening chérie"

"Uncle Reg??"

Regulus gave you a small smile and in the meantime Sirius and James also joined you in the living room.

"Reggie!" your father exclaimed. "I didn't think you would actually come"

You quickly turned to look at Sirius, shocked again, while Regulus straightened out the folds of his clothes with his usual calm.

"If my niece has a boyfriend i want to personally make sure that he is a good person and not an idiot like-" Regulus replied, but was cut off.

The fireplace flared up again and another person jumped out of it less gracefully than the younger Black.

"Where is this little boyfriend? I want to see him right now!"

You almost fainted when you saw him.

"Uncle Barty?!"

He opened his arms wide, coming to hug you with a smile. "Oh my little viper, look at you. You're already bringing home your boyfriend, you're really growing up"

You didn't return the hug, still shocked by the presence of your uncles who had crashed at your house without warning. After a few seconds you silently backed away.

"Darling, are you okay?" Remus asked you, standing up from the couch and so everyone's attention was on you.

But you backed away and alternated your panicked eyes between your parents and your uncles, who were looking at you in confusion.

"No no no! I'm not okay at all!" you exclaimed nervously as you looked at Remus and then set your gaze on Regulus. "Uncle Reg, no offense but why are you here??"

Regulus didn't take offense at your words and remained calm as he took off his jacket to hang it on the coat rack.

"Sirius told me that this evening we were going to have a family dinner to meet that scoundrel who stole your heart, my dear. And i want to make sure he's not a criminal"

"It's the truth, i swear i only invited Regulus" Sirius continued, raising his arms in surrender, looking at you slightly sorry for the panic he had caused in you.

"Come on little viper" Barty then interjected, shooting you a smirk. "We all know that without me this evening would be boring. And if Reggie wants to meet your boyfriend, then i absolutely MUST meet him too"

You let out a loud sigh and ran a hand over your face desperately. Then you started walking back and forth along the living room carpet, muttering "What do i do now? What do i do??", while your relatives looked at you strangely.

"Honey-" James tried to say, taking a step towards you, but suddenly someone rang the doorbell again and you all froze. And when your parents and uncles were about to run to open the door, you blocked their path, opening your arms wide.

"Don't you-dare-open-that door!" you threatened them, looking at them one by one, and then lowering your tone of voice to make it more severe and threatening. "And i swear to Godric that if you scare him away i... I... I don't know but don't try, okay? Am i clear?"

Everyone nodded silently and you rushed towards the front door. You fixed your hair and took a deep breath, praying to the four founders that everything would be okay. Then you reached for the doorknob and opened the door, feeling your heart skip a beat when you saw Fred's bright smile.

"Hi" he said.

"H-Hey" you responded nervously.

"You look beautiful" he told you and you smiled embarrassed.

"So do you"

It was at that moment that your eyes fell on the small bouquet of flowers that Fred was holding in one hand and he noticed it too.

"Oh! Um..." he handed you the flowers. "These are for you. I hope you like them"

You took the flowers gently from his hands and felt your cheeks heat up.

"They're beautiful" you said, holding them close to your face to smell them. "Thank you"

Fred smiled and leaned forward to give you a small kiss on the lips and you let him. But you realized too late that perhaps you should have stopped him from doing so, because you next heard whispered voices coming from behind you.

"You little red-haired brat, how dare you kiss my daughter in my house?"

"Sirius!"

"He got her flowers though"

"Tch, that's the minimum don't you think?"

"Would you all shut up??"

You turned around and saw the heads of your parents and uncles peeking out from behind the wall stacked on top of each other, intent on spying on you. You gave them a murderous look and they walked away in fear, heading towards the dining room.

"Looks like we'll have some company" Fred chuckled nervously.

"Forgive me" you murmured, looking at him awkwardly. "It's just that my uncles are a little protective of me and when they heard you were coming to dinner they decided they wanted to meet you in person"

You let out another sigh, lowering your head to hide your face in the flowers. "I'm so sorry"

"Hey don't worry, it's no problem" your boyfriend reassured you, placing a hand on your cheek to lift your face. "I'm not scared of anyone. I'm ready to face any member of your family"

You smiled, rubbing your cheek against his palm. "Thank you Fred, i appreciate it. But if they cross the line i'll throw my broom at their head, i swear"

The tension was growing visibly in that room. You were afraid that the slightest mistake would cause all hell to break loose.

"So..." Barty said slowly, looking Fred straight in the eyes. "You're Gryffindor"

Sitting opposite you, Fred looked at you for a split second, then flashed a nervous smile at Junior who was sitting to your right. "Yes sir"

"Tch" Barty cackled arrogantly. "And i bet you're proud of it too, right?"

Both you and Regulus, sitting to your left next to Sirius at the head of the table, shook your heads with a sigh, while James, who was sitting across from Barty, next to Fred, gave him a small kick from under the table, mimicking a "Quit it!" with his lips.

"Forgive him" you interjected, looking at your boyfriend with apologetic eyes. "Uncle Barty does this with all Gryffindors, it's not you, really. He even hated my parents and Harry's when they were in first year haha"

Barty rolled his eyes and Remus, who was sitting on the other side of Sirius, smiled slightly and nodded in agreement with what you said as he continued to eat.

"It's no problem, i understand what he means" Fred replied, giving you a reassuring smile, then looking at Barty. "I'm very proud of my house. Just like you Slytherins, but also Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws"

Barty chewed his bite slowly and narrowed his eyes at him, knowing full well that the brat had the same distrust of him as Slytherin. But what he didn't know was that Fred only refrained from retorting because he was a member of your family and didn't want to make a bad impression and let you down.

"Fred" Regulus then interjected, with his usual calm and rational tone. "How old did you say you are?"

"I'm 17, sir. I'm in my last year of school"

At those words both Regulus and Barty froze as if they were two marble statues and both looked at him with icy eyes.

'Crap' you thought.

In fact, your parents and James already knew Fred, as he was Molly and Arthur's son and Harry's friend, but Regulus and Barty didn't even know how old he was.

"Oh" Regulus said, slowly. "You're older than my niece. I didn't know that"

"Only by two years Uncle Reg" you retorted, turning to your uncle and trying to smile at him. "There are couples who have a much larger age gap, this is not a problem"

"Of course honey, you're right" Sirius reassured you. "But you know how we are, if our little girl tells us she's going out with an older boy we get worried"

"I hope you're treating my little viper like a princess, Weasley" Barty said menacingly, pointing his fork at him. "You're both teenagers and teenagers like you, especially boys, do a lot of stupid things"

"I just hope you don't do what Junior did at your age..." James muttered, looking away. "In that case it would really be a problem"

You turned to give Remus a panicked look, begging him to help you. But before your father could order everyone to stop the interrogation, Fred put down his cutlery and stood up.

"With your permission" he said, causing everyone to fall silent. "I would like to say a couple of things too"

Barty crossed his arms and sank back into his chair as Regulus wiped his mouth with his napkin, looking at him sternly. James and Remus stared at him patiently, while Sirius observed him from behind his glass of wine, which he was still sipping.

"I knew i would have to face Y/n's family sooner or later and that made me very nervous" Fred began, looking at them one by one. "But i won't be intimidated by any of you because i'm here to prove that i want to date her"

You felt your lips slowly curve upwards on their own and Remus and James smiled too.

"I am very, very in love with her and i always treat her with immense respect. Not like a princess, but rather like a queen" Fred continued, his eyes resting on Barty at that statement. "And both she and i can assure you that if i didn't do this, Harry who is her best friend, would've already sent me to the other world. But since it hasn't happened yet, then i think i'm doing a good job. And i honestly believe there are even worse people out there you should be worried about"

Then Fred looked back at you and you could see his red cheeks, which matched his hair, while on his lips he had what all his friends described as his usual lovesick smile.

"Yes i'm a troublemaker, but i would never hurt her and i always try to keep her out of trouble. I care about her a lot okay, and i consider myself the luckiest man in the world to know that this wonderful girl really feels the same. And i hope that all of you who are her family, don't spend the rest of your life hating me just because i'm in love with her"

He sat back at the table and everyone remained silent for a few good seconds. Your face felt like it was on fire and you didn't know what to say after everything Fred had said. You just knew that you had no doubts about the feelings you had for him.

Suddenly, someone sniffed and when you turned to look at who it was, you saw to your surprise that Sirius was wiping his napkin under his eyes.

"Siri, are you... Crying?" Regulus murmured, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. Sirius shook his head, looking at him with red eyes.

"O-Of course not! Do you think i'm going to cry over the romantic speech of a teenager in love with my daughter?? Absolutely not!" he retorted and then blew his nose.

Remus patted his shoulder and flashed you a smile, but then he noticed that James was also rubbing the palm of his hand over his eyes.

"Prongs, you too??"

James shook his head, looking at him with a pout. "I-I'm just crying because Sirius is crying, okay?? I'm very empathetic"

Barty grimaced.

"You're both disgusting, you're making me lose my appetite"

The two who were crying glared at him, while you and Fred exchanged an amused look.

"I say we all understand that your relationship is serious" Regulus then said with a small smile, alternating his gaze from you to Fred. "You're a good boy Fred Weasley so as far as i'm concerned, you have my approval" Fred smiled at him happily.

"Thank you Mr. Black, i really appreciate it"

"But..." the smile fell from Regulus' lips, and he looked your boyfriend straight in the eyes with an icy gaze. "If i find out that you made my niece suffer, i'll be happy to make you experience tortures you've never even heard of. I've done a lot of research, you know?"

Fred swallowed nervously.

"Uncle Reeeg…" you called back, making the man turn towards you.

"You know i'm joking, chérie" Regulus told you, changing his expression again to give you a small smile as if nothing had happened. "Let me scare him a little, that's what us Slytherin uncles are for, isn't it?"

James leaned towards Fred.

"He's just joking, don't worry" he murmured next to his ear. "Or at least i think... Just don't make him angry, okay? Regulus is scarier than Sirius, for your information"

Fred nodded fearfully, bringing the glass to his lips to take a sip of water to release the tension.

"Your kind words touched us Fred, especially Sirius here" Remus then said with a smile, nodding towards Sirius and continuing to hold his hand. "We're sorry if we were a little aggressive towards you. We were just worried about our daughter, you know?"

Fred nodded understandingly. "I understand. I would do the same if it were for my daughter. If i'll ever have one..."

"Hey!" Sirius said, pointing a finger at him. "Be careful with what you say, Weasley"

Fred looked down, making Remus and Regulus smile amusedly. You stretched out a foot under the table to touch his ankle and when Fred looked up at you you smiled sweetly at him, to let him know that he apparently succeeded in his aim of winning over your relatives. The worst was over and the evening would certainly continue for the better.

"Unbelievable..." Barty murmured, running his fork across his plate to play with his food absentmindedly. "One day my little viper comes home with her boyfriend and the next day she'll get married to him and the day after that we'll see our grandchildren with ginger hair running and screaming in the garden"

"JUNIOR!" "Uncle Barty!" you all exclaimed in unison.

"What?? What did i say??"

GUYS DO YOU THINK I SHOULD ADD EVAN TO THE SLYTHERIN UNCLES GANG?

[heaven4lostgirls]

I need a Barty x glasses reader in my life! I need glasses and have been wearing contacts this past year but I LOVE wearing glasses. could you do some headcanons or an imagine about what Barty would do or if he'd just love when reader had their glasses. (I'm nearsighted if that helps choosing what to do but I don't mind farsighted reader either!)

omg this is so cute! i’m nearsighted too!! (i rarely wear my contacts lololol)

anyways-

i think barty’s one of those people that think your glasses just make you look 100x sexier.

this man is pulling out the most horrendous down bad comments about how hot he finds you,

barty: “we can roleplay as a sexy professor and a failing student😏”

reader: “the only thing you fail is your drug tests 🤨”

barty: “…is that a no?😒”

reader: “…no😪”

he’s 100% jealous if anyone else compliments you on them too (*cough* james potter *cough*)

james: “nice glasses y/n!”

reader: “thank you ja-”

barty: “i will skin you alive potter, keep walking.”

james + reader: 😦

this man is also 100% lowkey bullying you about it too,

talking about “can u read that sign?” + “how many fingers am i holding up?” as he steals your glasses

he’s also so astronomically down bad for you when you look up at him in your glasses

if you thought your puppy eyes were strong as hell before, they’re actually inhibiting him from doing everyday tasks now.

man is fighting demons when he figures out how to ask for you to wear your glasses over your contacts

reader, jokingly pouting,: “you don’t like how i look without my glasses?”

barty: “i uh, well angel you see-”

absolutely obsessed with kissing you with your glasses just to pull back and see them a little skew on your nose.

an absolute nag about you getting fingerprints on your lenses or not cleaning them properly

would never admit it but he steals your glasses sometimes to watch u squint cutely at him and ask him to help you look.

definitely tries to put on your glasses one time and is dramatic as fuck about your prescription

“angel you’re a danger to society, we can’t let you out in public on your own! you can barely see anything!”

[crescenthistory]

💌 = fluff I 📭 = angst I 📬 = hurt/comfort I 📜 = smut I 🪧 = humour

𖤐 barty crouch junior

(4.2k) Toe The Line (💌: potentially suggestive, friends to lovers, confronting barty about his flirting with you)

(3.4k) Murder’s On the Wishlist (📬: you’re forced to go home for christmas, barty is your comfort)

(3.7k) steady me, guide me, love me (📬: when barty gets into another fight you have a serious talk)

(3.6k) You woke me up for this? (💌: barty is bored in the middle of the night, so of course he goes to you)

(2.3k) the blood means i love you (📜📬: reader accidentally makes barty bleed and he loves it, aftercare)

(3.7k) Under Your Mistletoe (📜💌: you show barty your new mistletoe belly button piercing for christmas)

(4.1k) slight air and purging fire (💌: climax of a slow best friends to lover arc, “you’re my person”)

grumpy!reader universe

⤷ (2.4k) Aren't you just a sweetheart? (🪧: kinda sunshine/grumpy dynamic, bickering type of flirting) ⤷ (2.7k) an insufferable dance (🪧: set before they start dating, dance at hogsmeade) ⤷ (3.1k) and what about it? (🪧: your friends find out you and barty are dating) ⤷ (6k) this isn't fun anymore (📬: it gets serious and that scares you both) ⤷ (2k) sleepy midnight escapades (💌: an anxious remus goes looking for you at night when you miss curfew and finds you with barty)

drabbles:

(1.6k) a scout on tabletops (🪧💌: barty gets creative when he looks for reader at a party)

(1.4k) here with you (💌📬: barty tries to isolate when he is hurting, but you always find him)

(1.1k) roommate au (💌: somehow, someway, the man you still tell yourself is a stranger wound up in your lap after a rough day)

pt. 2 (1.3k) weekly movie nights (💌: a snippet of one of your regular movie nights with your roommate that you’ve become quite familiar with)

(0.7k) rockstar au (💌📜: suggestive, sitting in barty’s lap to do his makeup before a gig)

(1.6k) midnight piercings (💌📜: suggestive, giving barty a helix when he spontaneously shows up on your door at night)

(1.6k) shaky hands (📬: after opening a particularly cruel letter from your mother, barty is there to help ease your spiral)

headcanons:

☆ barty x crow!animagus!reader

☆ kleptomaniac!barty and his endearing lack of impulse control

☆ barty’s body modifications

☆ barty learning a soft love through acts of service

☆ barty and divination (+whimsical!reader)

☆ barty x black!sister!reader

☆ barty and bloodplay + dead dove kinks (mdni)

find more barty in poly!bartlus in the slytherin skittles masterlist

[leeny-leens]

cw: implied childhood trauma, thoughts about committing murder

The door slams shut, the sound ringing loudly through the apartment and he flinches. For a moment, he's back in that wretched house, anger clouding his parents' eyes as they strike and strike.

The next moment, he sees you furiously wiping your face, tears of anger wetting your cheeks. Immediately, he jumps from the couch he's sprawled on, meeting you halfway in a bone crushing hug.

"Shh, 's okay, 'm right here my sweet one," he cooes, rubbing your back as you fist the fabric of his shirt angrily in your hands.

"She's so fucking mean," you sob bitterly, and he swears that whoever this person is, they will be laying six feet under soon enough.

You stand in the middle of the living room for a few more minutes, your sobs slowly dying down while his voice fills the silence, whispering sweet nothings and words of comfort.

Finally, you let go of him just enough to look at his face, eyes swollen and eyelashes wet from all the crying.

"I'm sorry for slamming the door," you croak, guilt evident in your wobbly lips and hoarse voice.

"Apology accepted," he whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead with a small smile.

"How about you go change, I'll make us some snacks and then you can bitch all about what's making you mad over some chick-flicks and off brand sweets?" The prospect of a good venting session in your comfy lounge wear significantly boosts your mood, your entire body just about melting against him.

You grab him by the scruff of his neck, pulling him into a quick yet intense kiss that is tinged with the taste of your salty tears, sighing dreamily against him.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I'm so grateful you're mine." You declare, finally untangling yourself from his embrace to disappear into your bedroom.

He looks after you fondly, staring at the shut door for a few moments before busying himself with the snack mission, humming the entire time, his mind on track to maximize the comfort you'll be receiving.

For the rest of the night, he holds you and lets you rant all you want, matching your energy at every step and thinks to himself that this must be the life, this is what makes all the years of hardships and pain really worth it.

Carl Gallagher, Blaise Zabini, Barty Crouch Jr., Regulus Black, Sirius Black, Evan Rosier, Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott, Miya Osamu

[peppermintkissesxoxo]

Barty and the Beast

poly moonkiller x gn!reader

18+

cw: possible dub con but barty is just being himself and actually loves it, mostly barty x remus centered, dry humping/grinding, barty calling remus beast (affectionate), reader watches mostly, gender of reader not mentioned

𓆩♡𓆪

"Fuck off, Lupin!" Barty growls. His fingernails dig into the forearm Remus has wrapped around his neck, holding him tight in a headlock while Remus grinds into Barty's clothed ass. 

"Fuck off? But I thought I was gonna fuck you, Junior?" He quips back with a smirk, pushing his chest out to fold Barty over the side of the bed under his body weight, his hips grinding down harshly. 

A strangled moan escapes Barty's mouth. Embarrassed at his lack of restraint, he opens his mouth, ready to bite down on Remus's arm in retaliation. But before he can sink his teeth down, he catches the sound of the door opening.

You carefully twist the doorknob, peeking inside Barty's dorm room. You'd been on your way to see the boys but heard some arguing from out in the hall, and you know arguing between the boys usually means Remus doing something dirty to Barty that he doesn't know how to cope with besides throwing insults at the former. The thought of what you’re about to walk into ignites a bubbling heat in your gut, panties starting to soak through in anticipation.

Remus had heard your footsteps from down the hall, an affect of his lycanthropy status being heightened hearing, but he doesn't bother to stop his grinding. He only turns his head over his shoulder and grins at you, eyes alight with lust, beckoning you to come in with a tilt of his head. "Hi, Dovey. Close the door will you?" 

Your breath gets caught in your chest at the dirty position Remus has wrangled Barty into, but you beam at him anyways, slipping through the crack in the door and swiftly shutting it behind you. You can't let anyone else get a view as delectable as this. This sight it just for Remus and you to indulge in. 

"Treasure-" Barty groans, chest filling with hope, his eyebrows furrowing as Remus grinds down harder. "Save me!" He whines.

You giggle in delight, toeing your shoes off as you walk over to the boys. You sit next to them on the bed, smiling sweetly as you watch Remus turn Barty into a mess. 

He hates it. He hates Lupin. And he hates that he loves him and this too. And he hates that his beautiful, perfect, darling treasure is doing nothing to save him from this dire situation. 

"You look pretty look this, Bee." You swipe a streak of acid green hair off his damp forehead. He's frowning in the most pretty and dramatic way, something that’s a feat in itself considering Barty’s expressions towards you are never negative. 

"Tres, I'm being mauled by this beast you call a boyfriend," he whines gruffly, fists banging on Remus's hips behind him. It's no use, the headlock Remus has him in leaves little room for fighting. "Why aren't you helping?!" 

You chuckle and shrug. "I don't really see a problem here, Bee." 

He lets out a dramatic groan, though he can’t help but feel warmth swirling in his chest at the sight of your pleased expression. 

Remus's arm teasingly tightens around his neck to cut off some of his air supply. 

"B-Beast!" He growls, but his voice sounds awfully out of breath and tinted with pleasure. 

"Mhm. Let it out, baby," Remus coos against Barty's temple, his hips snapping forward to roll his cock between Barty's cheeks. 

Barty released a strangled gasp, his hands flying to Remus's forearm and squeezing desperately. His own cock is rubbing against the bedspread with every roll of Remus's hips and and the delectable friction is driving him mad. But he refuses to say please or beg in any form to get the teasing to end. 

"What got you in this situation, anyway?" You quirk a curious eyebrow, falling to your side with your elbow propped up on the bed, your head resting on your hand while you watch. 

"Junior said I couldn't pin him," he chuckles. "Said and I quote, '"what use is it being a werewolf if you don't even have werewolf strength,"' he mimics Barty's maniacal, taunting tone before tugging at Barty's ear with his teeth.

An amused giggle escapes your lips and Barty glares at you. "Wow, Bee. Riling him up on purpose, huh?" 

"No!" He insists.

"M'yeah. Sure you weren't, baby," you nod your head knowingly. 

Another deep roll of Remus's hips has him squeezing his eyes shut. 

Barty's face twists up and his hands reach down to try and unbuckle his belt, desperate for a semblance of touch on his bare cock. Unfortunately for him, your hands are quick to catch his wrists and wordlessly cast a binding spell. 

"Tres!" He groans. 

"What?" You smile at him sweetly. 

"He's gonna cum soon. Can feel him getting all tense. You really did it with the hand binding, Dovey," Remus winks at you. 

Barty growls. "Shut up, Lupin! I don't need to c-cum." 

You roll onto your front, propping your face up with your hands as you pout at him sweetly, batting your eyelashes. "Why not, baby? You don't want to cum for us?" 

Barty's eyes widen at your sweet tone and he swallows thickly. "Treasure..." his tone softens considerably.

"Hmm?" 

He groans, always one to give into his perfect darling’s wants and desires. "F-Fine. I'll cum for you, tres but not, Lupin." 

"So mean to me," Remus muses into the crook of Barty's neck, his arm tightening around the front of his throat as he rolls his hips deep. 

Barty can feel his balls tightening under his clothes. His shoulders shudder as he feels the overwhelming heat in his gut start to send numbing tingles through his legs, dancing up to his groin. "Fuck! I'm gonna-" 

"Hmm? You're gonna what, Junior? Speak up," Remus taunts. 

"F-Fuck you, Lupin," he wheezes as he tries to hold back as long as his body will allow him.

"Yeah, I'd like to. Bet you're all tight from how wound up you are. Would have to work you open real good first. Have your Treasure play with your cock while I do. Would you like that, baby?" Remus coos dirty talk into the shell of Barty's ear. 

The pet name and Remus acknowledging you as his Treasure sends him over the edge. Barty chokes on air, jaw going slack, body shuddering as he releases rope after rope of thick cum into his boxers and trousers. 

He thrashes slightly in Remus's grip, nerves alight as waves of white hot bliss wash over him. 

He feels hands on his body, softer, smaller hands soothing up his stomach and petting his face. His wrists are suddenly unbound, free to hang limp in front of him.

Remus's hips slowly come to a halt, a pleased smirk on his lips as he gently kisses Barty's cheek and jaw, loosening his grip as Barty's high fades. He gently maneuvers him to lay on his back on the bed, and Barty lets him. 

"You okay, sweetheart?" Remus's voice has softened considerably, his hand combing through Barty's sweaty locks as he leans over his tired form.

Barty manages a weak glare. "Don't talk to me." 

And Remus just smiles wide, leaning down to pull him into a kiss. 

Barty's body slumps into it, kissing back with little hesitation. 

You watch the sight with lovesick eyes. 

After a few moments Remus pulls back and pats Barty's hip as he straightens up. "You're alright." 

Barty huffs and rolls over to stuff his face in your stomach. "That beast tried to kill me, Tres," he whines. 

Your hands slip into his locks and comb through them as you console him. "Oh, I know. Big Bad Wolf has it out for you, hm?" You and Remus eye each other with amusement. But with the way he's smirking down at you, awfully predatorily, cock still hard and bulging through his trousers, you have a sneaking suspicion that he's out to get you next. 

Your heart gets caught in your throat, thighs twitching under Barty’s head as the heat in your core kicks up. You lean down towards his ear, whispering loud enough for Remus to hear too. "I'm afraid I'm about to be his next victim, darling." 

Barty’s head peaks out, eyeing up Remus. "You should know by now, Treasure, we're never safe from his sick desires,” he sneers affectionately.

And the wolfish smirk on Remus's lips widens tenfold.

[tea-biscuits-books]

17 candles kisses

barty crouch jr x fem!reader

🎂💋🌹🎁🍓

summary: pov it’s your birthday 🌟

authors note: i felt inspired to write this because it’s my birthday 🫣🤭

word count: 1.3k

song : lover - taylor swift

🎂💋🌹🎁🍓

The first kiss comes before you’ve even opened your eyes.

“Morning, birthday girl,” Barty murmurs, his voice hoarse and laced with traces of sleep. You feel his lips brush your forehead gently—soft and reverent.

“One.” Your eyes flutter open and find his dark ones looking down at you with adoration, his pretty lips already in the familiar smirking motion, brown tufts of hair leaking out of the soft grey hood of his jumper. You sigh, your fingers finding their path down his chest, tracing small patterns on his abs.

“Are you really going to count every one?” you ask, though a small smile is finding its way to your mouth. Barty hums, dragging a fingertip lightly down your arm.

“Course I am. One kiss for every year, treasure. I’ve got a busy day ahead of me.” You let out a soft laugh, and he immediately leans into it, pressing his lips to your shoulder.

“Two,” he breathes. You roll onto your side, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“How did you even get into the dorm?” He chuckles, arms tightening around you.

“Persuasive charm on a sleepy second-year. Bribed him with chocolate frogs. No regrets.”

By breakfast, you’ve received three more kisses—forehead, nose, and one to the tip of your finger as he hands you a mug of tea.

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, watching him swirl cream into your drink with exaggerated care.

“And you’re seventeen, doll,” he replies smoothly, his blue eyes glittering with mischief. “If you think I’m not making that a spectacle, you clearly don’t know me.” You feel your lips curl up into a smile as Regulus and Evan both groan in disgust from across the Slytherin table.

“Get a room, won’t ya?” Evan scoffs, throwing a spoon that hits Barty square in the forehead.

“You jealous, Rosier?” Barty fires back, not missing a beat.

“I’d kiss you too, but I’m booked for the day.”

You stifle a laugh behind your hand as they begin to squabble, flicking crumbs and insults at each other like children. Regulus just sighs, sipping his coffee with the long-suffering expression of someone who's dealt with this far too often. Barty turns to you mid-argument and plants a kiss right on your cheek.

“Six.”

The eighth kiss is stolen as you’re walking through the greenhouse after Herbology, a quiet moment between you two among the creeping vines and misted glass. He cups your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks, and kisses you like there’s nothing else in the world.

“Eight,” he murmurs, and you think you could melt right then and there.

The ninth is in the library. The tenth, on the back of your hand during lunch. The eleventh happens in the hallway. You're walking past, distracted, when he hooks his pinky through yours and pulls you back into his chest, pressing you to the wall just to steal one. Regulus is left flustered and abandoned to the side, and you hear a groan of disgust from a passerby that sounds suspiciously like Sirius.

“Merlin, slimy snakes and their slimy tongues down each other’s throats,” he mutters. You stifle a laugh, melting into Barty’s touch.

“Kiss eleven,” he whispers against your lips before pulling back just enough to admire your blushing cheeks.

“Gotta make it worth it, ain’t I?”

It’s nearing dinnertime when Barty wraps a blindfold around your eyes, ranting about surprises and house-elves.

“This feels suspicious,” you mumble as the fabric slips over your vision.

“You’re not gonna kill me and feed me to the squid, are you?” Barty snorts.

“Not today, treasure.” As your vision is stripped from you, all you’re left with is his lingering cologne and the warmth that radiates off his body. His hands settle at your waist, guiding you carefully through the castle.

“Barty?” You squeak as your arms flail around, trying to feel for him.

“Right here, doll,” he laughs into your ear, his voice low and amused. You can feel his breath ghost over your neck and your skin prickles. After a final turn and a theatrical spin, he comes to a skidding stop, standing in front of you, his breath heaving slightly onto the blindfold. Then, with careful fingers, he unties the knot, letting the fabric fall away. You blink. Once. Twice.

“Are you… baking?”

You’re standing dead center in the Hogwarts kitchens. Dozens of house-elves bustle around him, balancing trays piled high with golden-roasted meats, mashed potatoes, and dinner rolls. Pumpkins float in mid-air, and pitchers of pumpkin juice zoom past your head. And Barty—your boyfriend—is at a counter in one of your aprons, poorly tied, with flour streaked across his cheeks and dusting his curls. He’s bent over a cake that looks like it’s already declared war against him.

“No,” he says flatly, before sighing. “Alright, yes. But if this cake is hideous, it’s because you distracted me all bloody day with that pretty face.”

You laugh and walk up behind him, slipping your arms around his waist.

“You're baking me a cake. That’s already perfect.”

He mutters something about “sweet-talking witch” under his breath, but you can hear the grin in his voice.

The cake is finally done after another half hour of chaos and muttered curses, including a frosting bag explosion and Barty yelling,

“I swear this piping is cursed.” When you’re both finally leaning over it, inspecting the slightly lopsided frosting with pride, you can’t help but smile.

“I like it,” you say, running your finger through a line of icing and licking it off.

“A little messy, but sweet. Like you.” Barty grins.

“Messy, am I?” Before you can react, he swipes a dollop of icing on your cheek.

“Barty—!” you shriek, but it’s too late. That glint is in his eyes, the one that always means trouble. He steps closer, slowly, hands resting on your hips as he dips his head. His nose brushes your cheek first, then his lips press softly to the icing, warm and firm. And then—his tongue flicks over the spot, licking the sugar mixture up with a low hum of satisfaction.

“Seventeen,” he whispers against your skin, lips still against your cheek.

“And easily my favourite one yet.” Your entire face is on fire.

“You’re such a menace,” you mutter, but your voice is breathless.

“And you’re my birthday doll,” he purrs, pulling you closer until your foreheads are touching.

“Now, how about a slice of cake and kiss eighteen for good luck?”

The rest of the evening passes in a dreamy blur. You eat cake off mismatched kitchen plates. Barty insists on feeding you forkfuls with overly dramatic “ahh”s. Regulus and Evan show up just long enough to heckle him and steal cake before leaving again with pumpkin juice in their pockets. You’re full, warm, and your stomach hurts from laughing too much.

As the night winds down, you find yourselves alone again, this time curled up in a quiet alcove near the Astronomy Tower. The moonlight filters in through the window, casting pale silver on the stone floor. You’re curled in Barty’s lap, arms around his neck, his fingers tracing slow circles into your back.

“Kiss eighteen,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Nineteen.” A kiss to your temple.

“Twenty.” He presses his lips gently to your throat, lingering for a moment. You shiver. Then he pulls back, holding your face between his hands.

“And twenty-one… just because I can.” This kiss is different—longer, deeper, more lingering. His lips slot against yours with slow, steady purpose. Like he’s trying to press every unspoken word, every flicker of feeling into the space between you. You grip his hoodie tightly, the scent of him and the warmth of him washing over you like a wave. When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours.

“I wish I could give you more than seventeen,” he whispers, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone.

“Wish I could give you all the time in the world, treasure.” You blink up at him, soft and starry-eyed.

“You already give me everything.” And for once, Barty Crouch Jr—the proud, cocky, sharp-tongued boy who sneers at sentiment—has no words. Just a faint, almost trembling smile. And another kiss.