#barty crouch jr fluff

[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.

[ervotica]

27. kisses for cover at a party with poly!rosekiller. reader goes to evan to get a guy off you, he makes out with you, barty sees and is like "yay i wanna join" and then just devours you

ahhh i love them! poly!rosekiller x fem!reader, college!au ✩ 900 words

You slip beneath the handsome guy at the pub with practiced ease, dipping under his outstretched arm in an attempt to shake your unwelcome admirer of the evening.

To his credit, he doesn't flinch but rather curls his arm round the nape of your neck, tucking you into his shoulder in one fluid movement until you're mostly obscured. He dips his head low enough to murmur in your ear; his voice is like smooth, dark honey.

"Who you hiding from, lovely?"

"This bloke's been following me round all night," you admit, voice high and breathy. "He's still looking, I think. Will you- will you pretend to know me until he goes away?"

He grins and the sight almost blinds you; crinkled eyes and a soft smattering of freckles across his high cheekbones. Miles and miles of brown skin and a curly blonde mop that sits high on his head.

He really is lovely.

And if you'd met him under different circumstances, you'd be nervous for an entirely different reason.

"Consider it done, okay? No need to fret."

He tips his head lower until his nose brushes yours. You hold your breath in anticipation.

"Let's give the prick a show, yeah?"

Your insides flush white-hot as you wait for his lips to make contact. It's a languid sort of kiss, building in intensity as your mystery man flattens his tongue against your bottom lip. He palms at your neck, angling your face upward until you have no choice but to part your lips and let him lick into your mouth, soft and slow and deep.

You push up on your toes - encouraging him closer - and you feel the corners of his mouth tip up even as he indulges your wordless request.

The kiss ebbs and he pulls back. You bite your lip and try to pretend that he didn't just give you the best kiss of your life.

"I'm sorry," you say, cadence twinged with embarrassment. "I don't even know your name."

He smooths the pad of his thumb over your pencil lined eye and smiles, unperturbed. His expression is softer this time, something akin to fondness lingering in his eyes.

"Evan," he murmurs. "And you?"

"Y/N."

A weight settles at your back and you go rigid, pushing back into Evan's space with a startled gasp.

"It's okay, lovely girl," he placates with ease, as though he's known you for much longer than a few minutes. "This is Barty."

This boy is taller – sharper round the edges than Evan, but no less beautiful. His face is shrouded by thick, dark hair that contrasts so heavily with his pale skin it almost looks unnatural.

"Hi, pretty," he coos. "Oh, she is gorgeous, Ev. The gorgeous ones always love you."

"Hi," you almost whisper. You're suddenly even shyer under Barty's fervent gaze, red-hot at his rapt attention.

He folds at the waist and twirls one of your loose curls between his fingers. From here you can smell his breath, mint and vodka and something sweeter that lingers on the tip of his tongue.

He steps closer, right into your space until you're sandwiched snugly between the two of them.

"Do I get a kiss?" he asks, borderline pleading. Intense, for a man you've just met.

Your throat works around a thick swallow and you look down at your feet, suddenly overwhelmingly shy.

"Um..."

"Don't be jealous, babe," Evan placates, a lithe hand massaging teeny circles into your shoulder.

"I find a pretty little thing snogging my boyfriend and I'm supposed to not be jealous?"

You balk. Your eyes gloss over, and wet and wide and painfully apologetic.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't know. I'm really sorry."

"Shh." Evan loops an arm round your waist and tugs you neatly into his side. "He's teasing. He just wants a kiss, too, if you're willing to give it."

You can't deny that Barty is beautiful – all long, milky limbs and dark features. You nod tentatively.

"Okay."

Evan plants his chin in the juncture of your neck as Barty leans in, long fingers roaming the expanse of your waist with a fervour you've never felt before. Your stomach flips.

Barty's kiss is far more fervid. All tongues and clashing teeth as he angles his head to get more of your mouth on his– as though he wants to eat you whole.

You whine into his mouth when his hand settles on the dip of your spine and presses down, forcing you to arch up into him. There's not a part of you that isn't being touched in some way.

Especially not when Evan trails his lips along your pulse point and begins diligently sucking a bruise under your jaw.

Barty gets you by the nape of your neck and probes his tongue further into your mouth. He's persistent, flicking his tongue behind your front teeth until you gasp and open your mouth wider to grant him more access.

"There's a good girl," Evan says, voice rumbling against your back.

The trail of spit that stretches and bows between the two of you when Barty pulls back to get a good look at you has you feeling faint.

"Can we keep her, Ev?" Barty nuzzles his nose against the soft swell of your cheek.

"What do you say, angel? Can we keep you?"

You're too dazed to answer with more than a nod, curling your own arms around Barty's waist to keep him pressed against you.

[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?

[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.

[crescenthistory]

hey how are youu? I’m new here and I’m completely in love with your work especially with the Barty’s ones! I wanted to request the prompt c 11 (you are okay) with the 4 (near death experience) and if you could make it like part of the series of where they bicker all the time it would be perfect! Anyways I really enjoy your writing and I love how you portray my man Barty🤍🫶🏼

hi there lovey! thank you so much for being here and for your sweet words<33 i combined this request with another i received, i hope that is okay

other request: i headcanon barty as a person who has attachment issues (on the ambivalent side), in the way he loves too much his friends and lovers but at the same time is afraid of intimacy bc he also struggles with showing affection in a non sexual way. so my idea is that (gn)reader and barty have an argument because of their insecurities about trust and commitment, but AFTER they've been avoiding the conversation for too long. it could end very much extremely bad or very good.

you can find the other fics for this specific au here and here

Prompts: C.11 "You're okay, you're okay" & 4. Near Death Experience

Words: 6k

Warnings: not proofread, gn!reader (no pronouns used), use of y/n, reader and barty both have mental breakdowns/spirals, attachment issues, miscommunication, "oh shit! love is scary but i do love you so what now" moments, near-fall on the ice, potions accident, choking in a non-sexual way, infirmary, language, talk of death, injured!reader, heavy hurt but heavy comfort, happy ending

this isn't fun anymore

Your relationship with Barty thus far had been interesting to say the least.

After endless bickering led to an impromptu kiss to shut him up in the library, which in turn led to a heavy make-out session in a nearby cot, which led to a “how does it feel to be my girlfriend?” “I wouldn’t know” “do you want to?” “sure” conversation in the Slytherin common room, you somehow wound up being in an established, committed relationship with one Barty Crouch Junior.

To your friends’ flabbergasted shock, and, quite frankly, your own surprise.

Even more surprisingly so, you loved it – which scared you to no end.

As the weeks began to stretch into months, you felt as if you were losing your footing more and more in your dynamic. What was once flirtatious and intense has now become almost intimate and close. It stills you in your movements as you try and find your bearing.

Who are you to Barty when you are not in the mood to quip? Or even talk at all? Who is Barty to you when you allow him to just be Barty and not sparring-partner Junior?

All good questions to ask oneself, but not as productive to spiral over as you walk with him from Hogsmeade, a little stretch behind your boisterous friends.

There are two reasons for this. One is that Barty has somehow learned to read your emotions fairly well despite your inability to communicate them effectively, and he is now scrutinising your distracted facial expressions. Second, and perhaps most importantly, is that it is winter in Scotland.

In your distracting spiral, you step on a snow that covered a perfectly polished sliver of ice, and your foot slips out from underneath you.

You barely managed to squeak out a shriek, scrambling to retract your hand from Barty’s to catch you as you fall, before one of his hands is around your waist and the other on the back of your neck, stabilising your neck. His wild eyes stare into yours, mild panic seeping away to make place for a wicked grin.

“Careful, sweetheart. Falling for me already?”

You roll your eyes before you let out a breath of relief, hands clutching onto his form as he is still holding you up in his grasp.

“You wish, Junior,” you scoff at him, albeit with a smile.

“Every night, on every star.”

You let him place you onto your legs, arm circling around your waist as a remaining layer of protection. You shiver, brushing off imaginary pieces of snow from the fall that did not occur. In front of you, your shared friends had stopped upon hearing you yell.

“Y/N, you good?” Lily called, concern etched onto her face.

At the same time, Sirius, ever the supportive friend, yelled, “Did Barty finally kill you?”

“Oh yes, Big Black, I am incredibly dead,” you yell back as Barty roll his eyes at you both and mutters something about on the contrary.

Regulus, in turn, says something you can’t quite catch over the distance, but you suppose it has something to do with your nickname for Sirius and its insinuations. Little Black did not enjoy being referred to as such.

The group waits up for the two of you to catch up, Barty enjoying taking his time with a lazy stroll.

“You mind picking up the pace, Junior?” Sirius grumbles.

Unfortunately, that only further encourages Barty. “Why would I? Got a pretty damsel in distress on my arm and all the time in the world.” 

You try and rip out of his arms at that, feigning offence at him, but he only holds you tighter. “How dare you. I am neither a damsel nor in distress–”

He cuts you off with a quick peck on your lips. “You are pretty though. Sorry, baby, had to shut the sod up somehow.”

You turn your head away from him with a shake, trying your hardest not to blush at his words or his actions. You bully Regulus too much for his blushing to commit such atrocities yourself. “Whatever you say, Junior, but you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“You don’t even live together,” Remus comments amusedly.

“Doesn’t matter; the sentiment still stands.”

James and Remus shake their heads at the two of you, while Sirius and Lily nod solemnly in support of you. The whole lot begins walking back the short distance to the castle.

Barty makes a comment of some sort to Regulus that both Black brothers and James quip back at, which starts another tireless spat. You are too zoned out to care what they are bickering about today, disappearing back into your thoughts recklessly, despite the dire consequences from last time.

Attachment issues was such a loaded term, you thought, and you didn’t like to think of yourself like that. Yet the fact remained that the longer you and Barty spent together, the more a part of your brain begins dry heaving and screaming. What began as pure fun, tingles along your spine at every back-and-forth, is becoming realer by the minute, and it terrifies you. Not because you cannot stand a relationship or fear being bound down – because you are starting to care for him. Genuinely, wholly, in a way that aches. You have always been one to shy away from emotional aches, and the fact that you now have to decide whether to withstand it or throw it away for another type of pain makes you lightheaded.

With his arm so securely around yours, with his laughter in your ear, you feel right. You feel content and whole. Why should that make sirens go off in your head?

Most of the time you spend with Barty is with others around, where you can’t fully access your emotions. In the Great Hall, if you eat by yourselves, everyone else is still there, when you walk the hallways or the grounds, there are always students and professors around. Even when you visit his dorm, which is becoming more frequent by the second, Evan and Regulus usually aren’t far. You almost wanted to keep it this way, ensure that Barty only sees the fun and open side of you, keeping everything else under lock and key. You almost avoid him when you are able to be alone just the two of you, because the implications are too vast for you to face them.

He has to know. He has to have seen. Have noticed that you keep pushing one front of you towards him and shielding the rest – and it seems like he enjoys that one, but at some point he must want more. Could you give it to him?

“Okay, what’s going on in that head of yours?” Barty’s whisper cuts through your thoughts as you step through the entrances to the castle, once more slightly secluded at the back of the group.

You merely hum in response, trying to pull yourself out of your spiral to look at him.

“C’mon, baby.” His drawl is teasing, but his eyes seem darker than usual. “You have never gone this long without insulting me somehow. What's up?”

“Maybe you’ve just been on your best behaviour today,” you say conspiratorially, putting on your mask expertly. “Haven’t needed to.”

“Now see, that is simply empirically wrong,” Barty guffaws at you. “Did you hear what I said to Reg earlier?” His raised eyebrow is giving you a silent cut the crap that you aren’t ready to face.

“I’ll be honest with you; I did not.” You look away, pulling your jacket further around you. “I’m just mentally preparing for Potions and Slughorn tomorrow, he said we should expect something big.”

“Should I be concerned that lying comes that easily to my girlfriend?” Barty asks, making you whip your head back to him. He is still teasing, but you really, really don’t like the look in his eyes.

“Should I be concerned that my boyfriend can’t take the hint to let something be?” You didn’t think about the words before you let them tumble, instantly getting defensive.

“No,” Barty says, stopping you with the hand on your waist, looking directly at you. “‘Cause I’m just checking on you when something is clearly wrong.”

“Since when do you check on me?” you say, realising your voice is uncomfortably close to a snarl. Barty does, too.

“Since you decided to take me up on my relentless flirting and enter into a relationship with me. You know, the kind where people care for and look after each other? Or is that not us?”

You stare at him for a second, as it uncomfortably settles into your bones that the odd look in his eyes is hurt. Confusion, concern and hurt. You’re at a loss for words.

“I don’t know what to say to that,” you settle on, feeling dumb but stubborn. 

Barty nods, looking away at last, small frown over his lips. “Well. Let me know when you do. Or don’t, you know, it’s whatever.”

He walks away from you, leaving you to stand alone, looking after him. If your friends realised you’re gone, they have likely assumed that the two of you are in some hallway together making-out. No one would come check up on you.

You trek back and sit down, just outside the entrance to the castle, trying to understand what just happened. Sliding down the wall, you watch as new snow begins to fall, large wet chunks flying through the air. You let them symbolically represent your tears as you keep bottling it all up.

That night, you go to your dorm in silence, telling yourself you’re thankful not to see Barty on the way there. You fall asleep watching the door.

Truth is, you had also been stressed out regarding Slughorn’s Potions class for the day after. As you wake and get ready, anxiety rages through your body for more reasons than one. He had been teasing the class for weeks, saying that you would be brewing some dangerous, difficult potion, allowed into the curriculum as a one-time exception for him.

Technically, this would have been no problem, however you are currently paired with McLaggen in Potions. The biggest twat I have ever seen, as Barty described him. While you didn’t have as intense feelings about him, you knew one thing for certain: the boy was absolute shit at potions.

The kind of awful that you really don’t want to be paired with for some exotic and dangerous potion.

Potions was one of the few classes you and Barty had together as your subject selections were relatively different. He would always walk you from your dorm, first class in the morning, soaking up every minute with you. Some of your best banter came from Potions class, often at McLaggen’s expense, for better or worse.

When you opened your door, you were not entirely sure what to expect.

What you found, certainly was not it, though.

“Regulus, what– what are you doing here?”

Regulus looked incredibly sheepish where he stood, weight leaned on one of his hips as one hand scratched the back of his neck. The other held something in it that you couldn’t quite detect as you took the awkward scene of him in.

“I, uh,” he starts, uncharacteristically inarticulate. “Barty said he couldn’t walk you today, but wanted to give you something for, um, your anxiety? About the class? Or something like that. Anyway, here.”

The tips of his ears were burning red at the humiliation of being caught in the middle of whatever this was. He reached out his hand and opened it to reveal a small potions bottle – ironic – with some purple liquid inside.

“What is it?” you asked, taking it tentatively and turning it over in your hands.

“It’s meant to make you calm down and relax– not that I think you need to do that, just, Barty wanted to give it to you.” Regulus winces at his own inelegance. “I got some from James the other week, he apparently has a bunch stacked up in his dorm with the boys, for God knows what reason. Barty asked for one for you. So, here we are.”

“I don’t really know what to say,” you trail off, looking between the potion and Regulus. “Thanks?” 

“I, uh, will tell him that then–”

“Gods, no,” you cut him off. “Don’t tell him that, he wouldn’t appreciate it.” 

As you seem to be thinking over a response, Regulus adds: “If it makes a difference, he said something to me about giving it to you on the off-chance that he was wrong and a massive wanker.”

You chuckle at that. “Well, he’s always a massive wanker,” you joke on reflex. “But you don’t need to act as an owl, Reg, I’ll thank him myself. And thank you for the potion.”

Regulus seems to let out a breath of relief at that, smiling a bit more comfortably at last. “Great, well, I’ll see you around I guess.”

You smile curtly and give him a quick nod before seeing him all but run off. 

Once he’s gone, you drink the potion and the effects are instantaneous. Your shoulders seem to loosen in places you didn’t know they were wound up, your breathing regulates and your heartbeat slows. A little too late, you mull over that this was James’s potion, and you probably should have been careful, given his track record in class. Nevertheless, the potion seems legitimate. 

With a bit more breath in your lungs, you walk off to class, alone.

Barty could not make up his mind on whether to drag his gaze away from you when it instantly gravitated towards you, or if he could let it linger.

The feelings warring in his chest felt impossible to map out. On the one hand, you had snapped at him when he tried to help, which was shitty – on the other, he still didn’t know what he was trying to help with or what compelled you to snap at him. What you were going through. Which honestly is on you, he thought, wincing at his own frustrations.

He was not one to dwell on small spats, but this was entirely unfamiliar territory to him. Barty didn’t do relationships, at least he didn’t think so before you came in like a freight train consuming his being. It was fun to finally have someone properly challenge him and do so with a beautiful smile on their face – the perfect situation for him. It was fun, until his heart began to hurt when you weren’t near, until it was your laugh that ran through his head, guiding him away from a spiral. Until he realised he was not just down bad for you as Dorcas teased, he was something much, much worse.

And he had no idea how to handle it.

His infatuation with you was all-encompassing, a burning passion and loyalty that characterised having Barty’s affection. He knew it, as did all his friends, but when it is with you, he doesn’t know how to handle it. With a friend, he could snog, even shag, them at a random party and it wouldn’t matter for either of them. With you, that first kiss, first anything, was so much more important. With a friend, if he pissed them off enough, they would just cool off without him for a while and then the slate was clear. With you – he had no idea what he would do if you disappeared. Would you come back? He was acutely aware that this was a dynamic he didn’t know how to explore.

Now, it seemed like you needed his support, but wouldn’t accept it. Didn’t want him near it.

He had to respect that, he thought to himself. So, he did his best to tear his gaze away and leave you be.

With the amount of times your eyes met, he knew he wasn’t being successful. He paid no mind to the fact that you did not avert your eyes, either. 

His feet were tapping relentlessly on the ground, his eyes flicking all over the Potions classroom to keep them from you. Barty was losing his fucking mind and he had no idea what to do about it.

“Mate,” Evan cuts off his distracted mental monologue that Barty himself couldn’t really make sense of. “Would you bloody cut it off? I’m trying to not kill us here.”

Barty does not dignify him with a response, but tries to calm his skittishness, albeit not overly successfully. He zeroes in on Slughorn and his peculiar facial expressions as he, a bit too excitedly for 8 in the morning, continues his explanation.

Something about a healing potion that is so particular that if brewed even slightly wrong, it becomes one of the most effective poisons in the world. Something about corrosive to the touch. Something about bezoars healing.

Barty settles his gaze on the bowl of bezoars Slughorn had on his desk, just in case, with a bad feeling in his stomach. He wondered if you felt the same.

As the pairs set to attempt the feat of making the potion correctly, Barty’s eyes drifted back to you, happy to leave the work to Evan – who in turn was happy to work in the silence without his constant chatter.

Your shoulders were relaxed, though your brows were furrowed together as you reread the instructions for the thousandth time. He wondered if you had taken the potion he sent to you with Regulus, he wondered if it helped you. While he knew in his bones you were lying about it being what bothered you, he still could never be too sure. He wanted you to feel safe, whichever way he could ensure it.

He knows what that’s called, which is why he is freaking out so to speak. 

You kept shooting dirty looks at McLaggen whenever he tried to help, keeping him at arm’s length from the potion, fueling the boy’s frustrations. Barty was quite certain he had seen you threaten him with your wand at one point when he tried to stir the potion. He couldn’t blame you.

McLaggen, as incompetent as ever, was trying to make himself useful by reading the instructions aloud to you, though his exaggerated enunciation was more distracting than helpful. Barty withholds a snicker as he can tell you are silently begging him to shut up. The frustration on your face was palpable, the tension between you and your partner practically humming in the air. McLaggen, ever oblivious, didn’t take the hint.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to–?”

“I’m sure,” you snapped, not looking up from the cauldron.

From across the room, you felt Barty’s eyes on you again. His gaze had become a constant presence, burning into your skin. Even when you weren't looking at him, you could feel him there, lingering, watching, waiting. It was maddening, but also strangely comforting. You knew you had to talk together soon, but you still had no idea how to communicate your feelings, if you even dared to.

You had to snap yourself back into it to remain in control of your little situation at hand.

McLaggen, frustrated by being sidelined, huffed and crossed his arms. “It’s just stirring! How hard could it be?”

“Apparently, harder than you think,” you muttered, casting him a side-eye. The potion was already starting to smell off, and you knew he had messed it up.

McLaggen’s face flushed in embarrassment, and before you could stop him, he reached for the ladle, his ego clearly bruised.

"I'll show you–"

“Wait–”

It happened in a blur. His hand snuck past yours, clumsy and wild. It knocked against the cauldron’s edge, sending it tipping over. The thick, boiling liquid surged out, splashing across the table – and onto your leg.

The pain was instant, white-hot and searing, like your skin was being eaten alive. You screamed, recoiling as the potion sizzled straight through your pant leg, immediately finding flesh.

The room seemed to freeze for a moment, everyone turning to see what had happened. The smell of burning skin filled the air as you stumbled back, falling over your increasingly immobile leg, eyes wide with shock and pain.

The world around disappeared from you as you were consumed by the burning, not even able to hear your gasps of pain.

For that moment, no one did anything.

No one but Barty – Barty moved.

Without hesitation, without thought, he lunged across the room. He grabbed the entire bowl of bezoars, eyes never leaving you. His body collided with McLaggen, shoving him aside with a force that sent the boy slamming into the wall behind, just barely avoiding the poison himself. Barty didn’t even glance at him; his focus was solely on you.

Somewhere in the back Slughorn made a sound of shock and disappointment that Barty blocked out.

He dropped down beside you, taking your shaking upper body in his arms. "You're okay, you're okay," he muttered in your ear, as he cradled your jaw with one hand and opened your mouth with another. With two quick, precise fingers he shoved the bezoar as far down your throat as he could, arm circled securely around your waist for when your body convulsed in response to the intrusion. "You're okay, I've got you," he continued to mumble, as if to himself this time, as he looked at you frantically.

Your body's trembling and your small gasps of pain faded, but your leg was still searing painfully and you still looked completely out of it.

Barty’s heart lurched – he had never seen you like this. Never seen you so vulnerable, so hurt.

“Barty–” you gasped, your voice breaking in panic.

The classroom had erupted into chaos around you – students scrambling away from the spill, Slughorn’s booming voice calling for calm. In it all, Barty's eyes kept looking you over, almost like he was itching to give you another bezoar just in case.

“You’re okay,” he repeated, quieter this time, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

Your breath came out in ragged gasps, the pain subsiding slowly. Barty's hands remained around you, grounding you essentially in his lap, keeping you tethered to the moment.

“Someone fetch Madam Pomfrey!” Slughorn’s booming voice cut through the heavy air as he rushed over, his face pale with panic. “Quickly now! That potion– oh dear–"

McLaggen stood behind him, mouth agape in shock and horror as almost all other students had lined up by the walls, putting distance between themselves and the potion. Everyone except Evan, who remained by his desk, grip tight on the wood as he looked in horror and concern.

Barty ignored him. He ignored everyone. His only focus was you – your shallow breathing, your wide, panicked eyes. He didn’t even realise that his hands were shaking until you whimpered softly, and he felt his control slipping further.

“I’m taking her to the infirmary,” Barty said through gritted teeth, not waiting for permission.

Barty scooped you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he stood. The weight of you felt so fragile, so wrong. You were supposed to be strong, biting back with sharp quips and rolling your eyes at his antics. Not this. Not in pain and trembling in his arms.

“Now, now, I’m sure Madam Pomfrey can come here–”

“No,” Barty said, his voice dark and dangerous, leaving no room for argument. “I’m taking her.”

“Mr. Crouch– wait! We should–” Slughorn tried again, but Barty was already moving, carrying you through the rows of desks and out the door.

His steps were quick but measured, and you were too disoriented by the pain and the shock to protest. Your head rested against his chest, the steady beat of his heart the only thing anchoring you to reality.

“Hang on, my love,” he murmured, his voice rough and shaky. “I’ve got you. You’re gonna be alright.”

You weren’t sure when you closed your eyes, but by the time you tried to open them again, you were in the infirmary.

Your mind was swimming through a haze of pain and exhaustion. The world felt heavy around you, like you were dragging yourself up through thick water. At first, you weren’t sure where you were – the sterile smell of potions and the soft rustling of sheets felt foreign, disconnected.

Then you shifted ever so slightly and the sharp sting in your leg brought it all crashing back.

The classroom. The potion. McLaggen’s bloody idiocy. The burning, searing pain as the liquid had spilled across your skin.

Barty.

Barty was sitting at your bedside, his usual composed demeanour shattered. His shoulders were hunched, his face tight with worry, and there was a wildness in his eyes that you had never seen before. The sight of him like that sent a pang of emotion through you, more potent than the lingering sting of the potion burn.

You swallowed thickly, your throat dry. “Barty…” Your voice came out in a cracked whisper.

His head jerked up, his eyes locking onto yours in an instant. For a second, the relief that washed over his face was so overwhelming that it almost broke you. He moved closer, his fingers trembling slightly as he reached out for your hand, stopping just before touching you, as if he wasn’t sure if he should. If he could.

“You’re awake,” he breathed, his voice rough with emotion. His eyes scanned your face, searching for any sign of how you were feeling. “Are you… does it hurt? Are you in pain?”

You blinked up at him, your mind still foggy as the events of the day came rushing back in fragments. You remembered the burning pain, the panic that had clawed at your chest, and – Barty. Barty holding you, his voice in your ear, telling you that you’d be okay.

And now here he was, sitting beside you, his fingers twitching with the urge to touch you but holding back as if afraid he might break you further.

"I–" you tried, but your voice cut off, throat hoarse from the bezoar you were increasingly remembering. "I think I'm fine."

Barty just looked at you, still searching, clearly unsatisfied with your answer. What an unfortunate theme for the week.

“It’s… it’s not as bad now,” you managed, your voice hoarse. The burning in your arm was still there, a dull throb beneath the bandages, but it was nothing compared to the ache in your chest. “What happened? After… I don’t know if I really remember…”

Barty swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he fought to maintain his composure. “Pomfrey patched you up. You passed out from the pain.” He paused, his voice thickening. “It was bad. You could’ve–”

He cut himself off, his fingers curling into fists as he looked away, his throat working visibly. “It was a close call.”

At his words, you realise how hard you were fighting the tears, the bottle you keep your emotions in clearly shattered by your impact with the floor.

"I'm alright," you whispered, to which he just nodded, beautiful face stained by a frown. Yeah, yeah, you thought you could hear him mutter.

"Barty?" you called softly, hoping for his attentive eyes to be back on you – they were in an instant. "Thank you."

"I would do anything for you," he whispered. "I just need you to be alright. I'm so sorry."

"For what?" Your eyebrows furrowed in genuine confusion. "You did nothing wrong Barty. You– you did so good."

Barty leans his head on his fists curled up on your bedside. He was still slightly trembling. "I thought I lost you."

His words hit you like a physical blow. You could hear the desperation in his voice, the crack in his usually cool exterior, and it made your chest tighten with emotion. He wasn’t just worried – he had been terrified. You could see it in the way he refused to meet your eyes now, as if he was still trying to gather himself, still fighting the lingering fear.

Your heart twisted painfully at the sight of him like this, so undone, so vulnerable. It was strange when he was always the one so sure of himself, always the one in control. His usual composed mask had crumbled, leaving raw emotion exposed underneath. You wanted to kiss it better. You wanted to see more.

It was strange, you thought, lying there in the infirmary with a dull ache all throughout your body. Strange how, in moments like these, everything else – the fear, the confusion, the uncertainty – seemed to fall away. All that was left was Barty, his presence consuming every inch of your awareness.

"Barty..." you whispered again. When he looked up at you, his eyes were red-rimmed.

You simply turned your hand laying near his over. An open invitation.

He accepted it immediately, intertwining his fingers with yours and kissing the back of your hand so sweetly it hurt you.

"I thought–" you start, voice breaking from emotion this time. "When it happened, all I could think about was you. How sweet you are with me even when I'm terrible, how stupid it is to let my emotions get in the way of that. I didn't even get to say sorry to you and–" You take a deep breath. "I wanted to. I'm sorry, Barty."

He was shaking his head, cheek against your hand he was holding as it looked at you intensely. "Absolutely not. Apology accepted and then rejected. I don't want you to be sorry."

You try to interject, but he sits up, leaning on his elbow onto your bedside so you are at eye-level. "Nuh-uh. I won't allow it. Thank you, and I'm sorry too, but no."

"Will you at least accept the sentiment that I never meant to hurt you?" you whisper through a tired smile.

"Of course. I hurt myself. I was confused and scared and– shit, this feeling thing is so bloody hard for no reason." You laugh slightly at that, wincing when it pains you. "I hated feeling like we weren't a team."

"Me too," you whispered, not trusting your voice. "I didn't want to fight, I just find it so difficult to trust. That I can, I don't know, show you everything and not run. Because I don't know what to do with myself if you do."

Barty's grip on your hand tightened. "I won't. I swear to you, I won't. That's what scares the shit out of me. How ridiculously much I care about you. What am I to do with that?"

A few tears spilled down your cheeks before you could stop it. His hand instinctively shot forward to wipe them away, frown deepening.

"Can we be scared and confused together?" you asked weakly.

For the first time since you woke up, you saw a smile grace Barty's face, clouded only slightly by his teary eyes. "I reckon we can, love. I– I just need you."

You closed your eyes, triggering the release of a few more tears.

"You'll never lose me," Barty continued, pressing his forehead back against your intertwined hands. "I swear. I don't care what fight we have or how unsure we are. You're the only person who–" He stopped, his breathing hitching as if the words were too heavy on his vocal chords. "I need you."

Your heart clenched painfully at the raw emotion in his voice. The cool, confident Barty you were used to wasn’t here right now. This was a Barty who was terrified and loving, who was stripped bare of all the usual bravado and snark. It made your chest ache in a way that was so full of feeling that it was almost overwhelming.

“I need you too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He lifted his head slowly, his eyes locking onto yours again. There was something so vulnerable, so intense in his gaze that it nearly stole your breath away. He leaned forward then, hesitating only for a moment before his lips brushed gently against your forehead, lingering there as if he was grounding himself in the feel of you, the reality that you were still here.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured against your skin. “I promise.”

For a moment, the weight of those words hung in the air, settling into the space between you. And despite the pain, despite everything that had happened, you felt a small flicker of warmth spark in your chest.

You brought your free hand up to the nape of his neck, guiding his lips from your forehead to your own, kissing him as softly as you could muster. His kiss was careful as he tried to pour as much emotion as possible. All the things you could not say yet, but cared for each other in spite of.

When you parted, you rested your foreheads together and you let out a shaky breath, your heart slowing as the adrenaline finally began to fade.

You opened your eyes to find Barty already looking at you with a slight smile – the look in his eyes was positively lovesick.

With the ease Barty's touch awarded you, you let out a half-choked laugh, relief expanding in your chest, which in turn widened his smile.

"What's so funny?" he asked, a teasing tone finally making it back into his voice.

"I'm just thinking about how ridiculous we are," you laughed, squeezing his hand. "And dramatic, Merlin's beard."

Barty huffed a laugh in return, shaking his head at you. "You knew what you were signing up for when you got with me. Theatrical is my middle name."

"Oh, so you admit it now, do you?"

"Only for you."

You gaze into his eyes and you realise – Barty is not the only one who is lovesick.

"Tell me now," you said, teasing tone finally back in your voice. It made Barty's heart soar, but not as much as your next sentence. "How did you trick me into falling in love with you, Junior?"

"I trick you? Love, I've been heads over heels for you since the first time you insulted me. You're the one who should fess up."

Barty's grin threatened to tear his skin apart as he shook his head.

“Is that so?”

“Absolutely.” He shifted closer, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a tenderness that made your heart stutter. “You’re impossible not to fall for.”

“Good,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “Because I think you're stuck with me now.”

Barty leaned down, pressing another soft kiss to your forehead, and when he pulled back, his eyes were alight with something that looked an awful lot like hope.

“Stuck, huh?”

You smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t get cocky, Junior.”

“Too late, sweetheart.”

“In that case," you started, trailing off as if you grew uncertain of yourself once more. Barty's hold on you remained steadfast. "Can you stay? Just stay here with me, until I'm dispatched?”

“I’m not leaving,” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles in a steady, grounding rhythm. “I’ll stay as long as you want. You've got me.”

You felt yourself relax into the bed, your eyes growing heavy with exhaustion, but for the first time in a long while, the tightness in your chest had eased. As your eyes fluttered closed, you heard Barty’s voice again, soft and filled with so much emotion that it made your heart ache all over again.

“Sleep well, my love."

[peppermintkissesxoxo]

an afternoon stroll

rosekiller x gn!reader

cw: d/s relationship dynamics, little daddy kink towards the end, reader gets carried by Evan, mostly fluff

wc: 2.7k

𓆩♡𓆪

"Pet, hands to yourself," Evan tsks as his arm languidly reaches out, fingers pinching the back of your top to pull you back onto the path with ease. 

Your fingers were just a hair away from grazing the bush housing vibrant purple berries practically glowing in the dim forest light, just for a split second before you're firmly pulled away and tucked into your boyfriend's side. "Ev, c'mon!" You throw your hands up as you huff out a whine. "Wasn't gonna touch..." You lie. 

The blonde haired boy scoffs, clicking his tongue. "Yeah you're very believable. Don't throw a tantrum now, precious, you know I won't be on your side," he murmurs while doting a kiss to the crown of your head, a possessive hand placed on the fat of your hip to keep you close to his body, holding you captive. 

Your heart flutters at his usual blasé tone, affection seeping through your body as you snuggle into his side. You love how effortlessly dominant Evan is. It makes you feel taken care of, safe. And it's saved you from the many dumb decisions that have had you just a brush away from death upwards of 10 times throughout the duration of this walk. 

Evan has spent the better part of this stroll through the forbidden forest tugging you away from various flora and greenery that you like to call "pretty glowing plants," which are in fact poisonous and likely fatal to the human touch. Hence why they grow only in the forbidden forest. And he's spent the other part reigning in Barty when he wanders off too far or gets hit with a wave of boredom and starts acting a little too feisty with his wandering hands. 

Evan can't quite decipher if he's in his own version of heaven or if satan personally sent the pair of you up to him to compete for who could make him have a heart attack first. 

Up ahead a skipping Barty twirls around and comes sprinting back over, having heard you getting a scolding and alerted that you needed him to defend your honor, of course. 

"Rosie! Be nice! It's not Treasure's fault the berries are practically seducing us with their sick glow!" He reasons as he comes up to your side to hug your arm, jostling the pair of you in the process. 

It earns him one bored look from said boy. Evan's hold on you doesn't budge, but his eyes glimmer with a cruel playfulness. In a split second his free hand whips out to grab a fistful of Barty's shirt. He pulls the shorter boy against his body by the fabric, stopping you in your tracks simultaneously, now caught in the middle with wide eyes. 

Evan leers down his nose, eying up Barty. The light in his pupils carry just a hint of mischief, a deviation to his normal dead gaze. "Watch it, Bee. You're walking on thin ice today," his low tone rumbles the threat, though you all know it's actually affectionate. 

Barty tongues the inside of his cheek, fighting a toothy smirk, but it's inevitable. He gazes up at the blonde boy with hearts in his eyes. "Kay, Rosie. I can be good," he purrs in a sly manner. 

Your lips quirk up at his blatant lie, stomach heating at the heavy tension thickening between the boys. 

Evan scoffs, leaning down further to whisper against Barty's lips. "Liar." Then he claims Barty's mouth in a deep kiss, his tongue licking behind his teeth sensually, only for a moment, before he releases his shirt and lazily shoves him backwards, ending the kiss quick only for the sole purpose of leaving Barty on the tip of satisfaction. "Don't stray, idiot," he smirks. And then Evan turns back to the path and pulls you along with him. 

Barty is practically beaming with delight at Evan's shove, his cheeks tinted slightly red and his maniacal smile wide with adoration after that kiss. He catches up to you both quickly, hooking a finger into one of your belt loops and leaning down to dote kisses over your shoulder. 

You giggle softly, your shoulder traveling upwards at the ticklish pressure of his lips. 

Barty melts. "Gods, Treasure I swear an angel is born everytime a sound leaves your lips," he coos in between kisses, voice gooey like molten lava. 

Even Evan can't help but let a soft smile tug at his mouth. He can't get enough of your voice either. 

Then Barty's hand is rustling through his pockets to pull out a handful of something. Your eyes catch on the movement as he pushes his hand into your direct line of sight. "Found you something, angel," he purrs, eyes purely fixed on your expression. 

His hand unfolds to reveal a glimmering holographic crystal, a tiny skeleton crow head, and a stick with various colors of moss growing on it, all laid out on his palm. 

Your heart thumps hard in your ribcage. 

It's become a common ritual now for Barty to gift you random trinkets he's found while exploring. It's like he has a secret sense for the little beauties, a keen eye for anything pretty. He's been doing it just for fun since he was young, but once he found you, his Treasure, it made sense that he'd start gifting you the little gems he's found.

It finally clicked when you found out that his animagus is a magpie. 

"Thank you, baby," you coo, your heart flipping a thousand times over as he gently slips the little treasures into your palm. You pick up each one and admire them with equal appreciation, your heart full. 

Barty grabs a handful of your ass while you're distracted, kissing up the side of your neck. Heat creeps up your chest but you're too zoned into the treasures to be pulled from your task of examining. 

After you've looked them over, and Barty has sufficiently groped you till you're hot in the face and a good bit aroused, Evan scoops up the items to deposit into his pocket for safe-keeping until you return to the dorm. "I'll keep them safe for you, darling."

"Yeah you better keep them safe, Rosie. Spent an hour finding those beauties," Barty quips back with a smirk. 

Evan's silence is the only reply he receives, but you give Barty a quick kiss on the cheek to show your appreciation.

The three of you already started walking back to the castle a while ago, but you've still got a ways to go considering how deep into the forbidden forest you traveled. 

Your legs feel like they're turning to led, your body leaning heavily against Evan. You definitely didn't wear the right shoes for this kind of walk which makes it so much worse. The Doc Martins you picked out earlier, a recent gift from Barty, are beginning to rub against your heels with a sharp, unpleasant friction. 

Now, this is something in which Evan consistently reminded you would happen when you were getting ready to leave the dorm. He almost pulled you over his knee for your stubbornness but you held out and won in the end, i.e. Barty threw you over his shoulder and ran out of the dorm with you before Evan could get to you. 

"Ev..." You murmur, sagging into his side more heavily. 

A tired sigh escapes his nose. "Pet." He already knows where this is going. You want to be carried.

You groan softly, pulling away from both boys to cut in front of Evan and abruptly stop him in his tracks. He raises an unimpressed eyebrow. 

The sudden obvious height difference makes you a bit hot. Evan is effortlessly intimidating, he always has been. Nonetheless, it's not going to stop you from getting what you want.  You lift your arms and press your hands to his shoulders, pushing out your bottom lip in a soft pout and putting on "the doll look," as the boys like to call it. 

Evan's gazes down at you with a bored look. 

You scrunch your nose at him and suddenly his hand is gripping your jaw, his face inches from yours. 

"No," he murmurs gruffly, like one would when scolding their disobedient puppy. He's trying so hard to be stern and act like your cute little fucking face doesn't make him want to fall to your every whim. No, he's the one in charge in here, he will not let you get your way like a spoiled brat. 

He may give into you sometimes (a lot of times) but today he's less inclined to spoil you, particularly because said current issue is because you didn't listen to him earlier. 

Though your lips can't pull up into a smile because of your smushed cheeks, your eyes do all the talking. You know he won't be able to resist for much longer. Or... you think so. 

His dead gaze traces over your pretty face. "You're really testing the limits today, doll," he mutters gruffly. 

Heat pools in your lower belly and you resist the urge to swallow as your heart starts to race. You're pretty good at catching Evan's tells by now, the little facial ticks or body language that reveals his true feelings and intentions under his stoney exterior. 

But right now, you're not quite sure whether you're about get a bruised ass or get scooped up into his arms. The uncertainty makes you tingly all over in the best way. 

You experimentally palm at his shoulders with your hands, maybe your touch will sway him. "Please? M'sorry, I'm being good now," you mumble sweetly. 

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, hand releasing your face and gently pushing you backwards in the process. "No. You ask me one more time and we're going to have a problem, pet. I told you not to wear new shoes for this kind of walk. Don't expect sympathy from me," he deadpans, side stepping you to continue walking on the path. 

You huff at his rejection, your stature deflating. 

Barty rushes to your aid, palms pressing to your waist, just about ready to scoop you up into his own arms and carry you instead. He can't have his beautiful Treasure's poor feet aching. 

"Don't even think about it, Junior! They can walk," Evan barks from up ahead, not even needing to look back to know what Barty's attempting. 

Barty freezes, locking eyes with you. You both know you'll be in trouble if Barty helps you. This is something Barty certainly doesn't mind, but you do, and that's the only reason he pauses, surveying your expression carefully. 

You smile softly, threading a hand through his messy brown locks and pulling him into a loving kiss. 

"Thank you for trying, Bee," you murmur sweetly as you pull away. 

It's then that Barty catches a certain twinkle in your eyes. His heart skips a beat. He knows exactly what you're about to do. You're going to pull out the big guns. 

It shouldn't be a surprise that due to Evan's dominant nature it's become a thing for you and Barty to casually call him Daddy outside of the bedroom. It started as a joke but then it stuck rather quickly. It's not sexual (most of the time), and it's not an all the time thing, but it is typically said when Evan's stern nature is especially prevalent. 

Hence, your choice to pull the Daddy card. You turn and call out to Evan, voice soft and airy, pleading, "Daddy, please!" 

Evan pauses, the name sending a familiar jolt through his body. He lets out a deep sigh and rolls his shoulders, of course you'd pull the Daddy card, little brat. But it has him turning around anyways, and he's no sooner striding back to you. 

"Sorry?" A raised eyebrow is directed towards you once he's a less than a foot away from both you and Barty. He crosses his arms over his chest and it only serves to make his tall build broader. 

You swallow harshly, resisting the urge to take a step back. Are you intimidated out of your mind and slightly regretting your choice to test him? Yes. Are your panties a little wet? Maybe also yes. 

Barty places an arm in front of you, shielding you slightly, his eyes locked on Evan. "Ev c'mon..." he laughs nervously, trying to diffuse the tension, and also trying to ignore how hot Evan looks when he's pissed off. He's got to defend his Treasure right now. 

Evan raises a hand to silence Barty. "No, no. If the little doll wants to go down that route I'd like to hear what they have to say." Evan smiles down at you with fire searing in his gaze, a warning. 

A harsh shiver dances up your spine and suddenly you're staring down at your shoes, heat creeping up your neck as you fiddle with the hem of your skirt. "W-Well um—" 

"No, head up. Look at me, you know better," Evan's bored tone interrupts your mumbling, his expression almost blank aside from his narrowed gaze.

Your head snaps up in a rush, wide eyes blinking at him sheepishly. "Sorry, Daddy." 

He clicks his tongue, eyeing your fidgeting hands. "Enough with the fiddling, and speak up properly. If you have something you'd like to ask, now is the time, pet. Don't bore me," his blunt tone is final. 

You nod your head quickly. 

Barty has migrated to behind you for support, letting you lean back on him while his hands rub soothing circles on your hips. He's drinking up the charged tension between you and Evan. That being said, his eyes are entranced with the expression Evan's wearing. The way he's looking down at you, like you're a just a pretty little doll that needs to be put back in their place. He feels dizzy with delight. 

You start, hesitant, "I-I'm really sorry I didn't listen to you about my shoes, Daddy. My... my feet really hurt and I don't think I can walk back without getting bad blisters. Will you... um, will you please carry me back to the castle, Daddy?" You bat your eyelashes up at him gently and make sure to keep your voice soft, your cheeks scorching. 

Evan's silent for a moment, but then you catch the proud glimmer in his eyes and you know you're in the clear. He rolls his eyes and then opens up his arms and gestures you forward. "Come, Pet. You're forgiven." 

Your face practically lights up. Barty gently pushes you towards Evan and you don't hesitate to step forward and press your palms to his shoulders. 

Evan bends at the waist and wraps an arm around your lower back, scooping his free arm under your bottom to lift you onto his hip as he straightens. You wrap your arms around his neck as he does, body buzzing with a warm tingly feeling you always get when you're touching either of your boys. 

"Thank you..." you murmur shyly. 

Evan presses a soft kiss to your temple in response. 

Barty barks out a laugh. "You've gone soft, Ev," Barty taunts said boy, itching for a reaction even though he's much enjoying the sight of Evan carrying you like a little doll. "All it takes is a "please, Daddy" and they've got you falling to their every whim." He smirks. 

Evan merely rolls his eyes. After all you and Barty have put him through today, he's exhausted about 90% of his usual will to bite back. "Quiet, Bee. I think we're all in need of a nap when we get back," he murmurs as he starts walking with you still in his arms. "Go run ahead, Junior. Your energy is quite the opposite of infectious." 

Barty beams, catching up to Evan to kiss him on the cheek and then doing the same to you. "It's like you read my mind, Rosie! I was craving a little run!" And then he's off, sprinting down the path, his figure getting smaller and smaller the more distance he catches. 

Evan tilts his head toward you, his nose brushing the side of your face. He sighs, hugging you tighter to him. "You two are going to kill me one day, you know that, precious?" His voice sounds tired, but fond. 

You laugh softly, turning your face so your nose brushes his. "Mhm. But you love it," you murmur back, eyes practically smiling at him, bursting with love. 

He presses forward to lay a soft kiss on your lips.

"I am quite the masochist, aren't I?" He muses when he pulls back, a soft smile pulling at his lips.

[heaven4lostgirls]

can I request a poly!rosekiller where Barty and Evan are dating already and they slowly start to incorporate reader into their relationship and before they realize it they’re basically in love with her or smth 🎀

(also I love your writing oml)

pairing: poly!rosekiller x reader

summary: request above!

word count: 1.2K

a/n: i?? love?? you?? thank you for requesting! feeling very inspired abt rosekiller at the moment!

“You look like a dog without its owner Crouch” Regulus says as he enters the Slytherin common room and sits across from the aforementioned boy. “Piss off Black, don’t you have a Gryffindor to bother?” Barty snarks back as he slinks into his chair in what anyone else besides him would consider a pout.

“Missing your boyfriend?” Regulus pouts back mockingly before Barty bares his teeth at him. “No, actually. Y/N’s spending the day with Remus, reading some stupid novel” Barty counters with a huff. Regulus barks a laugh at the petulant expression on his friend’s face.

“We’ve been friends since we started Hogwarts and I’ve never seen you pout over anyone like that, other than Evan” Regulus says simply and Barty looks at him in mock outrage.

“I do not pout!” Barty states, “besides, I just miss her, I’m used to spending most of my time with her and Evan that I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do when they’re not around” Barty complains as he lays down on the couch in the common room.

“You’re in love with her” Regulus coughs out and Barty turns to look at him with a glare. “what??” Barty hisses and Regulus shrugs with a knowing smirk. “Talk to your boyfriend about it Crouch”

Barty huffs and with an indignant huff of, “maybe I will!” He stalks off to wherever the fuck Evan is.

After looping the school twice, Barty finds Evan smoking a cigarette in the courtyard, he walks over to him without so much as a hello before he’s pulling him into an empty classroom. “Hello to you love, if you wanted a quick shag you could’ve just told me” Evan smirks in greeting but is met with Barty’s scowl.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Evan coos in immediate worry, Barty’s only tell of his surprise is the slight widening of his eyes before he shakes his head. His expressions shifts to contemplation before he presses a quick kiss to Evan’s lips. “Regulus thinks I’m in love with Y/N” Barty states deadpan.

Evan’s eyes widen and his mouth drops open slightly, “what?!” He says, “…are you?” He asks skeptically and Barty is quick to shake his head.

“No!” Barty defends himself before he looks at Evan with a look of suspicion, “do you think I am?” He asks incredulously. “What? No!” Evan immediately denies but then looks slightly uneasy.

“I mean…we’re not exactly very platonic with her, are we?” Evan says with a slight wince. Barty quirks a brow and shakes his head, “but we’re like that with everyone, remember when I tried to kiss Reg on his cheek and he punched me in the face, but when I did it to Dora she was okay with it!” Barty says with fake cheer, almost forceful sounding.

“Yeah! sure!, I mean, of course we’re not in love with her, Regulus doesn’t know what he’s on about!” Evan says but hopes to himself that Barty doesn’t look closer into him to notice the slight twinge of falseness in his tone.

Barty nods in a decisive manner before a contemplative silence envelopes the two lovers, disrupted only by the sound of the school bell. “I’m gonna go check on Y/N, wanna come?” Barty quickly asks and they share a look of understanding, neither willing to admit what they’re feeling.

“Sure, haven’t seen her all day!” Evan says as his tummy swirls in a mixture of anticipation and what he hopes is excitement.

“Been studying with Remus” Barty says offhandedly, unbeknownst to Evan’s inner turmoil as an ugly feeling bubbles under his skin, one he’s only felt after finding out that Barty used to have feelings for Regulus.

Evan pushes it down, not letting himself think too much about it in fear of it confirming something he’s not ready to vocalize.

As they reach the Gryffindor common room, Barty mutters the password in slight impatience before he walks briskly to the couches where you and Remus seem to reside.

Sitting close enough for your arms and legs to be touching, Evan’s eye twitches at the sight, Barty scoops you up within immediate notice and places you in his lap on the other couch. Much to your chagrin and Remus’ amusement.

“Rosier, Crouch” Remus says in greeting with a small smirk and a knowing glance as Barty’s hands splayed over your midsection to keep you from moving.

“Lupin” Evan and Barty growl in distaste. “Barty, let. me. go.” You growl as you struggle in his hold, “stop struggling angel, I missed you” Barty huffs as he places his face in the crook of your neck, placing a soft kiss in the area.

Remus only meets Evan’s gaze with a quirked eyebrow before Evan huffs and moves to sit on the other side of the couch next to Barty, pulling your legs into his lap as he strokes your leg in soft touches, letting you readjust your position in Barty’s lap.

Your leg muscles tense before relaxing as you meet Evan’s calm gaze. “Hi” you murmur, abashedly at the attention from both boys. “Hi angel” Evan murmurs back in a tone laced with affection. His eyes not leaving yours as he allows his mouth to curve into a rare, gentle smile.

Your eyes widen as you look at him as your face heats, “good day?” You cough out, embarrassed by your lack of composure. “Dull, getting better though” he says as his pupils expand as he continues to watch you, lovesick.

Barty only hums, “what did Evan do to get such a sweet greeting?” Barty pouts and you can’t help but smile, which seemingly quells any qualms Barty had concerning whatever argument he was about to hold with you.

“Hello Junior” you coo affectionately, his eyes widen significantly before a wide grin blooms across his face. He looks more boyish in comparison to the unhinged and emotionless Slytherin the rest of Hogwarts knows.

You’re unaware of Remus bidding you all goodbye as he makes his way back to his dorm, too enraptured by the gazes of the two boys in front of you.

“Angel” Barty says with a grin as he looks all over your face with adoration, lifting a hand from your waist to push a lock of your hair behind your ear.

You laugh before looking towards the other couch, only now noticing the departure of your dear friend. “Oh no! I was supposed to help Remus with his herbology notes!” You say with a gasp.

“Leave it.” Barty murmurs and he pulls you back into him, your form melting at the familiar sense of his hands on your waist. “Meet with him tomorrow” Evan supplies helpfully and you smile back in thanks with a nod.

You snuggle deeper into the chest of Barty as you pull Evan to lie further on top of you. “Tired?” Barty hums again as he places his hand into your hair, softly playing with it an subsequently lulling you to sleep.

You only half-assedly hum and close your eyes as you turn to let Evan lay his head in the crook of your neck and shoulder and your place your lips in his hair, kissing it softly.

Unbeknownst to you, the position allows both Evan and Barty to make eye contact, something they had both been eagerly avoiding in fear of what the other might find in their gaze.

We are so fucked Barty mouths to Evan, who only smiles wider and shrugs nonchalantly.

Who cares is his only reply.

[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

[nightsmarish]

Request: Barty x fem!animagus!reader who gets hurt but no one tells Barty so he has to ask the marauders where she is.

Barty crouch jr x fem!reader | 624 words

A/n: I was halfway through formatting this and the ASK DELTED ITSELF SO HERE WE ARE. I am SO sorry this took so long, this ask was in my inbox forever :[

Tw: reader is hurt, door slam, Peter, platypus

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡

The door to the marauders dorm slams open so hard that Remus is convinced the door was about to fall off its hinges.

"Dear fucking merlin," Sirius gasps, practically throwing the magazine he was reading.

"Good afternoon," Barty stands in the doorway, hands on hips, clearly having ran the entire way here, “Any of you blokes know were my gal is? Seemed to have lost her."

"Perhaps she doesn't want to be found." Peter mumbles from his desk, Barty seems to ignore it.

"She has left, decided Durmstrang was better suited for her academic needs." Sirius crosses his arms, upset his night has been invaded by Barty of all people.

"Very funny, Black." Barty sneers at him, "If someone wants to tell me I'd be out of your hair and all of us would be happier."

As if on cue, James walks out of the bathroom, drying his curls from his shower.

"Have you checked if shes still in the infirmary?" Finally! Barty gets some information, thank you James!

Barty practically runs back out of the dorm. Slamming the door once again on his way out, Remus winces slightly.

With quick feet Barty makes it up an obnoxious flight of stairs and to the infirmary, heart beating a million miles a minute.

Just as he enters, he sees your book bag resting at the end of one of the beds.

"Dragă?" Barty rounds the corner of your privacy curtain, seeing if you have been left here to die. Although that's probably a tad dramatic to think.

"Barty!" You smile, tired from pain potions Madam Pomfrey gave you, "Lovely to see you, darling."

Barty's eyes dart all around your body. You have small scratches all over you, a large bruise on your head and one large cast on your left leg. His heart melts.

"What happened? Take a fall off the astronomy tower?" He chuckles, taking a seat on the bed next to you.

"No." You look as if it's a feat you didn't fall off the tower, "I was trying to make friends with the giant squid and he threw me out of the water. Luckily damage was reduced due to having transformed beforehand."

Ah, yes. You, Barty’s wonderful and adventures girlfriend who became an animagus in your second year. A platypus, obviously. A land and water animal that you have used to get into far more trouble than you should.

"How dare he hurt my darling, I'll see to having him removed from the lake immediately." He grins, slinging an arm around your shoulders with care and pulling you into his side, "What did you tell Poppy?”

"Just a tumble down a hill, hit some rocks." You shrug, "the boys were there to back up my story so it worked well."

"Good, good. Can't have you sent to Azkaban before you befriend the merfolk." Barty nods thoughtfully.

There's a soft silence for a few minutes. Soft breathing shared between the two of you, Barty gently scratching up and down your arm, avoiding any injuries.

"Sorry I didn't get to tell you what happened sooner." You all but whisper.

"Don't apologize. Next time send that mutt you call a friend to fetch me though, yeah?" Barty cackles, "Nearly gave me a heart attack when I couldn't find you. Finally had to enter the Gryffindor dorms and interrogate those idiots."

"He's not a mutt!" You laugh, slapping his leg, "But I will, sorry you had to commit such a heinous act. I'm sure your life will never be the same."

"It won't, but I will recover." He sighs theatrically.

"Excuse me, Mr. Crouch." Madame Pomfrey clears her throat, "I'm afraid visiting time is up. Please vacate the infirmary."

Surprisingly enough, Barty gets up with almost no argument, giving you a salacious wink as he is escorted out by Hogwarts favorite matron.

You wink back.

[marauder-misprint]

hellooo congrats of 1k followers !!! you’re one of my favorite writers and I wish you 1000 more followers <3 also requesting a friends to lovers w barty crouch jr with prompt "i've loved you since the day you threw a rock at me in first grade." !!

Hi and thank you ❤︎ I changed 'first grade' to 'six' because that's the age they'd be. I suppose it could've been 'first year' but it works better with six. Trust. ❤︎ I love writing fluff. Fluffy fluffy fluffy.

1,000 Followers celebration

Hope y'all enjoy ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

Good aim

Barty Crouch Jr. x Slytherin!reader

2.7k words

cw: fluff, Reader and Barty being assholes, friends to lovers

The Crouches lived down the street from you. You met Barty when you were both playing outside. He was using magic to set things on fire. You were tossing pebbles and seeing how many times they would skip before stopping. You said hi to Barty and introduced yourself. He told you his name, but that’s it. You stood next to him as he burned things for a while, until your mother called you back inside. 

That was only the beginning. You would watch Barty burn things whenever you were outside together. You weren’t as good with your magic so you hit things with sticks and rocks until they broke. Barty helped you break some bigger things and once you managed to make something explode. You both giggled about it for at least ten minutes. 

Your young friendship wasn’t perfect. You saw him outside before a party your parents were taking you to. You went out to say hi and to show him your dress. 

“I don’t like dresses,” he said. 

You scrunched your face and frowned. Your father said your dress was beautiful. You started to walk back to your house, but then you saw a decent sized rock on the road. You picked it up and hurled it at Barty. It hit him in the middle of his back. You didn’t stay to see his reaction; you ran to your parents for the party. 

You were young and Barty was your friend. The thrown rock was water under the bridge by the next time you saw him. You didn’t apologize for it and he never brought it up. You were just two kids having fun outside, casually causing destruction to the neighborhood. As you got older, your friendship persisted. Eventually you got introduced to each other’s parents and you spent time at each other’s houses. You ended up getting sorted into Slytherin together at Hogwarts and that sealed it. You would be best friends forever.

“Bartemius!” you yelled, barging into the boys’ dorm during your sixth year.

“Oi! Don’t you knock?” one of Barty’s roommates, Martin Reyes, shouted as he hurriedly pulled up his pants. 

“Nothing I ain’t seen before, Reyes. Where’s Barty?” 

He jerked his thumb toward the bathroom. You crossed the room and rapped loudly on the door.

“Bartemius!” 

“I said wait for me in the common room!” he yelled through the door. 

“Got bored.” You turned around and sat on Barty’s bed. 

“And you’re not going back out?” Martin asked. 

“Nope. Need to light a fire under his arse.”

“What are you two getting up to now?” 

“Best I don’t say. Don’t you want deniability?” 

“Right,” Martin said as he grabbed his school bag. “See you in Potions then.” 

Martin left the dorm and you fell backwards into Barty’s pillows. You closed your eyes, knowing you still had a little bit before Barty came out of the bathroom. You figured he woke up late. That wasn’t too uncommon for him. You hummed to yourself while you waited. 

“Told you to wait in the common room,” he said when he finally opened the door.

“And I said to be ready by seven. It’s seven-twenty.” You swung your legs off the bed. “Reg’s practice only goes until eight.”

“So we have plenty of time!” 

“Just grab his things and let’s go.” 

Barty grabbed Regulus’ school bag and followed you out of the dorm. You found an empty classroom, which wasn’t difficult being that breakfast wasn’t over yet. You both sat down on top of one of the desks and Barty started digging through the bag.

“Anything good?” you asked, trying to look inside as well.

“Looks like the usual. Books, essays, his quill and ink… Why did we think he had anything for us in here?”

“It’s Regulus. He’s always hiding stuff from us. Gimme the essays.”

Barty handed you the various parchments and you started to scan them. Nothing. It was homework that was due later in the week.

You sighed. “We’ll need to nick these later. His Charms essay is brill. Potions is good as ever and Defense… lazily done but still better than my half-assed usual.” 

“Oooh! What do we have here?” Barty pulled out a small black book from the bag. “This isn’t a textbook.”

You snatched it from Barty’s hands. He whined in protest but didn’t try to get the book back from you. You flipped through the pages, a grin spreading across your face.

“Not as good as a diary, but he’s reading poetry,” you laughed. “It’s romantic!” 

“Our boy’s gone soft,” Barty groaned playfully. 

You handed him the book and took the bag from his lap. You riffled through it and went through every pocket. There was a rip in the bottom, which you found odd. This was Regulus’ bag. He wouldn’t keep a ripped bag. He could have it replaced in seconds with a trip to Hogsmeade or with an owl order. You shoved your hand through the rip and found a neatly folded letter. You opened it.

“Barty. Barty. Barty!” you said, hitting the side of his arm as you read it. “REG’S GOT HIMSELF AN ADMIRER!”

“What?” Barty asked, practically falling onto your shoulder to see what you found.

“This!” You aggressively waved the letter in his face. “It’s a fucking love letter! This is so much better than poetry!”

“Who is it?” 

“Dunno. No name.”

“Damn.”

“Time to go find our seeker.” 

Regulus was not happy to see that you and Barty had his school bag when he walked into the Great Hall after his quidditch practice ended. He grabbed it from where it sat on the table and briefly looked through it.

“What’d you two do to it? Ink going to explode?” 

“Hmm, no,” you said with an innocent look on your face. “But we’re wondering… Does anyone have a thing for you?” 

If you and Barty hadn’t spent years annoying Regulus at this point, you wouldn’t have noticed the slightest tinge of pink that appeared on his ears. Your innocent look shifted into one of success as you nudged Barty’s foot under the table.

“I mean, someone must. House of Black, seeker, smart, dare I say a handsome bloke,” Barty listed off. “Right? You’d say he’s handsome?” he asked you.

You nodded. “Handsome, yes. Not my type though.”

“So, Reg, who’s your ladylove?” Barty asked, grinning.

The pink spread to his cheeks and he wouldn’t meet either of your eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You sure? Mr. Lion Heart, Epitome of Art, God of the Broom, Dispeller of All Gloom?” you asked.

Pink turned into crimson. 

“Assholes. You two are assholes.” Regulus grabbed an apple and stormed out of the Great Hall while you and Barty burst into fits of laughter. 

“He’s going to hex you one day,” Pandora said from a few seats down.

“He’s already hexed us. It’s his love language,” you replied. 

For the rest of the day, you and Barty were on the lookout for Regulus’ revenge. It usually came in the form of a painful hex. But by the time you crawled into bed that night, you were unhexed. The next day came and went, as did the next. 

“He is going to get us back, right?” you asked Barty. 

“Eventually. Always does. Guess he’s taking his time.” 

It wasn’t like Regulus ended his friendship with you over teasing him about the love letter he had hidden in his bag. He gave you the cold shoulder for the rest of that day and then went back to normal. Still, like Barty said, he always got his revenge on you and Barty. It was a back-and-forth that you had going since third year. 

Regulus had a plan. He knew something and he was going to use that knowledge in his revenge. Which might not end up actually being revenge. It could, being that there was a chance it would destroy your friendship with Barty, but Regulus had a feeling that it wouldn’t. He had to wait for the right moment to reveal what he knew. 

He found you in one of the rare moments after class when you weren’t with Barty. You were in the library, trying to finish an essay for Transfiguration before you lost all ability to focus for the weekend. Regulus sat next to you. He didn’t take out anything, not even a book. 

“Yes?” you asked. 

“I’m not the only one with an admirer,” he said coolly. 

You hummed. “I’m sure lots of people have them. Yours just happened to write you a letter with poor poetry. You should give them that book you got.”

“I know who my admirer is. A book isn’t going to help them,” he chuckled. “But, I also know who yours is.” 

That got your attention. You set your quill down to prevent any rouge ink blots. You clasped your hands together in front of you and turned your head to Regulus.

“I’m listening.” 

“Oh, I’m not telling you.”

“Then why tell me I have one?” 

He shrugged. “Felt like something you should know. Good luck on that essay.”

Just like that, he was gone. You stared at your essay. How were you supposed to focus now? Regulus knew you would want to know who it was; he knew you wouldn’t be able to work on homework any more. It would only be a matter of time until you came back to the common room so he had to work fast. 

He headed to his dorm. He needed butterbeer, firewhiskey and a small vial that contained a potion he had been saving for a special occasion. Regulus decided that occasion would be today. He cracked open one of the butterbeers and waited. 

“Reeeeeguuulussssss,” Barty drawled, entering their dorm. “I’m bored.” 

Subject one had arrived. 

“Here,” Regulus said, tossing one of the butterbeer bottles to Barty.

He caught it and opened it. “Thanks.” 

“Why aren’t you off causing trouble?” Regulus asked. He needed to make conversation until you arrived. 

“Apparently, McGonagall’s essay outranks me,” Barty sighed as he sat down and put his feet up on his desk.

“Can’t get into trouble alone?” 

“It’s more fun when she’s around.”

“Okay, and you can’t bother Reyes? Or Rosier, Snape, Mulciber, Avery?” Regulus asked. 

“You’re trying to get rid of me after giving me a drink?”

“‘M just reminding you there are more than two other people who tolerate you.”

“I think you more than tolerate me, Black.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Crouch.”

“How come you’re not out with your secret lover?” 

“We have plans for later this weekend. Not that that’s important.”

“You know who it is?” Barty gasped, jumping up from his chair. “Who?”

“Right, because I’d tell you that.”

“I’ll find out eventually.”

“You’ll find out when I want you to.” 

Barty took a long swig of his butterbeer. 

Their dorm door swung open with a bang, revealing you. Subject two. You glared at Regulus.

“I was trying to be productive,” you announced. You slammed the door shut behind you. “You are a complete arse, Regulus Black.”

“What’d he do?” Barty asked.

“Disrupted my studying!” 

Regulus smirked. You walked past Barty to sit on his bed, grabbing a butterbeer from Regulus’ desk as you passed it. 

“Sure, help yourself to one,” Regulus said dryly.

“It’s payment for making me do homework on a Saturday!”

“I’m not making you do anything.”

You waved your hand in his direction. “Technicalities.” 

Barty drained the rest of his butterbeer and eyed the firewhiskey. 

“Mind if I break into the good stuff, my dear and lovely friend, Reg?” Barty asked, giving him a crooked grin that said he was going to pour himself a cup whether or not he said yes.

“It’s already open.” 

Barty’s grin widened. He helped himself, pouring a double, and then held the bottle in your direction, offering to pour you one. You held up your butterbeer. He nodded and took a sip before returning to his chair. Regulus watched him carefully. 

“What’s with that look?” you asked Regulus.

“Huh? Nothing.”

“No, you look like you know something.”

“I know lots of things.”

“He’s not feeling particularly generous with his knowledge today,” Barty told you. “Apparently he knows who his secret admirer is and he won’t tell me.”

“He claims to know my secret admirer as well,” you said, rolling your eyes.

Barty choked on his whiskey. He gave Regulus a worried glance. 

“I do know,” Regulus said with a sly smile. “Barty knows too.”

“You knew that someone fancies me and you didn’t tell me?” you gasped, tossing one of his pillows at him. “Asshole!” 

“That’s correct,” Barty said, trying to school his expression. Something felt wrong in his brain, but he couldn’t identify it. 

“Some best friend you are! I thought we told each other everything!” you exclaimed. Your words were accusatory but your tone was playful. 

“Not everything…” 

“Not everything? Bartemius, what haven’t you told me?” 

“I’ve loved you since the day you threw a rock at me when we were six,” Barty blurted. The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them. 

You stared at Barty with wide eyes as your brain tried to process what he just said. Barty looked away from you with a bright red face and turned to Regulus. 

“What did you do?” he asked him with a strained voice. 

“Testing if I brewed my Veritaserum correctly. Sounds like I did,” Regulus said smugly. 

You turned to Regulus. “Veritaserum?” 

He nodded, standing up and moving toward the door. “I’ll give you two some space.” 

Once he was gone, a thick silence fell over the dorm. Barty had put his cup down on the desk and leaned over his knees with his head in his hands. He had been content loving you in secret. You understood him so perfectly. You knew when the burning and destroying things was covering up something else. You listened to him rant about the pressure his father put on him to get excellent marks so he could go into the ministry like he did. You held him when his mother had a health scare. And you had been there for so long. 

“Barty?” you asked softly. 

Physically, he wasn’t far away. All you would have to do is stand up and take one step and you’d be right in front of him. Mentally, you knew he was spiraling. That’s what Barty did. 

“Barty,” you repeated when he didn’t respond. 

He still didn’t move or say anything. He was preparing himself for rejection – waiting for you to say he was just a friend, basically a brother. You chewed the inside of your cheek as you watched his body shudder with a shaky breath. You stood up and took the one step toward him. Then you crouched down to be at his eye level. You ran a gentle hand through his messy hair. 

“Since we were six?” you asked. Your hand came to rest on his upper arm. 

“I’m going to murder him.”

“Well, we’ll have to tell him the serum doesn’t last long,” you said with a soft laugh. “You love him too much.” 

Silence. 

“Barty. Since we were six?” 

He nodded. His head was still in his hands. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you. He didn’t want to see the pity in your eyes as you tried to let him down gently. 

“You know, that makes me look bad, right?” 

“How so?” he grumbled. 

“Since we were six?” you repeated again. “I didn’t realize I loved you until last year.” 

Barty slowly looked up. His face was still bright red, but now he looked shocked rather than embarrassed and furious at Regulus. 

“You… you… you love-”

“I love you, yes.” You laughed and took his hands in yours so that he couldn’t hide his face again. “It just took me a lot longer to realize it.” 

“I mean, I’ve heard most people don’t throw rocks at people they like.”

“Most people don’t like having rocks thrown at them.” 

“I liked how you had good aim.” 

“Only you, Barty… Only you.”

Then you pressed a kiss to Barty’s cheek.

“Oi, I thought you had good aim.” 

You raised your eyebrows, unsure of what he meant. 

“You missed,” he said before taking his hands out of yours to grab your face and crash his lips onto yours. 

You understood what he meant. You had missed. 

Tags: @navs-bhat, @faceache111

[bartonomy]

OF STRAY CATS AND MISTAKEN IDENTITY

PAIRING Ravenclaw! Barty Crouch Junior x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS Barty is 101% convinced that the stray cat was his girlfriend. But after being hit with horror, he was left wondering- who the hell was he kissing?

CONTENT WARNING fluff, james & sirius mentioned, barty losing his mind, I love ravenclaw barty sm, mention of hospital wing, established relationship

WORD COUNT 2.8 k words

library.

Barty had never considered himself delusional.

A bit eccentric? Sure. Dramatic? Occasionally. Unhealthily obsessed with his girlfriend? Absolutely. But delusional? No.

At least, that’s what he told himself- right up until he locked eyes with a stray cat in the middle of the courtyard and thought, with absolute certainty, That’s her.

It had your eyes.

Same sharp gaze. Same depth of intelligence. Same quiet challenge, like it was judging him for existing.

The fact that it was also a literal feral animal didn’t quite register.

Barty blinked.

The cat blinked back.

Something cold slithered down his spine. No fucking way.

“…Love?” he muttered hesitantly.

From across the courtyard, James, who had been lazily tossing a Quaffle back and forth with Sirius, immediately paused mid throw.

James turned, brows furrowing as he watched Barty talk to a stray cat with the softest, most devastated expression on his face.

“What the fuck?” James muttered.

Sirius followed his gaze and snorted. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

Meanwhile, Barty took a cautious step forward, heart pounding. “I- how did this happen?” he whispered.

The cat, being a cat, did not respond. Instead, it arched its back and hissed.

Barty flinched. His breath caught in his throat.

“No, no, it’s me,” he pleaded, taking another slow step forward. “Don’t be scared, love, I’ll-”

The cat bolted.

“WAIT!” Barty lunged, nearly tripping over his own feet as he sprinted after it.

Sirius howled with laughter as James gawked, watching as one of the most (maybe only) unhinged Ravenclaws in school history tore across the courtyard chasing a cat like it owed him money.

“WHAT IS HE DOING?” James demanded.

“I don’t know,” Sirius gasped, clutching his stomach, “but I am loving it.”

Barty, meanwhile, had completely lost the plot.

Because obviously, obviously, something had gone terribly wrong.

His girlfriend, the love of his life, had somehow been transformed into a cat and was now running away from him.

Was it a curse? Were you a secret animagus without telling him? (He very much hoped not). A transfiguration accident? Had some idiot Gryffindor (probably Potter) hexed you for fun?

He would kill them.

“LOVE, PLEASE!” Barty called desperately.

The cat did not care. The cat was tired of his bullshit.

It darted around a group of fifth-year Ravenclaws, who shrieked in alarm as Barty barreled through them, sending books and parchment flying.

“CROUCH, WHAT THE HELL—?!”

“NO TIME,” Barty yelled over his shoulder. “THIS IS A RESCUE MISSION! LIFE OR DEATH!"

The Ravenclaws watched him go, stunned, before one of them turned to their friend. “Do you think he finally lost it?”

“I think he lost it a long time ago.”

Barty chased the cat all the way past the Greenhouses, through the courtyard, and around the castle walls before jumping on a pillar and out of sight.

He was heartbroken.

Barty Crouch Junior was losing his goddamn mind.

“I saw him again,” a fourth-year Hufflepuff whispered behind him a few days later as he stalked past the courtyard, eyes scanning the treetops.

“No way.”

“Yes way! He was behind Greenhouse Three, just squatting in the bushes—”

“What, again?”

Barty ignored them, running a hand through his already messy hair. He had barely eaten. He had barely slept. Every time he so much as blinked, all he could see was you- or rather, the cat- flitting through the castle grounds, always just out of reach.

Evan had noticed.

“What the fuck are you doing, Crouch?” he had demanded over breakfast, watching in horror as Barty practically inhaled three pieces of toast in under a minute. “You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge.”

Regulus, sitting beside him, had barely spared Barty a glance before going back to his book. “He has been dragged through a hedge.”

Barty had scowled. “I’m fine.”

“You rearranged your entire schedule to be free at dusk.”

“I did not-”

“Yes, you did,” Regulus had interrupted, still not looking up. “I saw you bribing McLaggen to go to your Herbology classes.”

Evan had narrowed his eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”

Barty had hesitated. Then, after a long moment, he had sighed and muttered, “It’s her.”

Evan had blinked. “Who?”

“Her. You know.”

A long, agonizing even, silence followed.

“… Mate.” Evan’s voice had been so cautious, so deeply concerned. “Are you telling me you think your girlfriend turned into a cat? That she was stuck in a cat form for three days straight? I thought you Ravenclaws were supposed to be bright but I guess the hat made some mistakes after all”

Barty had stiffened. “It has her eyes.” he sighed dreamily. "And Oi! Dare I remind you that I am exceptionally intelligent! I wouldn't run after some animal if I wasn't 100% sure if it was my dazzling girl. She's been stuck in the hospital wing for days now and I've been banned from entering it if I wasn't injured. Pomfrey's too bloody intimidating to say no to." He muttered the last part grumpily.

That had sent Evan into a full body wheeze in the middle of the great Hall, while Regulus had just pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘I need new friends’.

But now, about 4 hours later, standing outside the castle with a bundle of blankets and a plate of stolen roast chicken, Barty knew he was right.

Because there- slinking through the grass with a very familiar look of absolute disdain- was you.

Or rather, the cat.

“Come on, love,” he murmured, crouching down. “Just a little closer…”

The cat eyed him warily. He lifted the plate of food.

A pause.

Then, finally, finally, its little nose twitched.

Barty grinned. “Got you.”

With one swift motion, he scooped it up, ignoring the furious hissing as he bundled it in his cloak, clutching it to his chest like a priceless treasure “You’re safe now,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to its little furry head. “I’ve got you.” and sprinted for Ravenclaw Tower.

“Nothing to see here!” he called as a group of first-years stared at him in horror. “Just taking my girlfriend for a walk-”

The cat sank its claws into his sleeve, but he barely felt it. Because finally, after three days of agony, he had you back.

And now? Now he was never letting go.

You knew Barty Crouch Jr. was bloody unhinged, but this was a new level.

At first, it had been a joke, something Evan and Regulus found amusing enough to tease him about in the common room. But the moment you heard the rumors by some second-year hufflepuff in the infirmary that a Ravenclaw student had been seen talking sweetly to a mangy black cat behind Greenhouse Three, you knew exactly who was responsible.

Because if anyone at Hogwarts was insane enough to mistake a random stray for his own girlfriend, it was Barty.

And of course, when Regulus, and Evan confronted him about it, he had scoffed, sneered, and shrugged it off like the very idea was beneath him.

But now, after class ( which he was very much absent from), you were all standing in the doorway of his dormitory in in the Ravenclaw Tower, You had expected something when you entered Barty’s dormitory that evening.

Maybe some scattered parchment filled with messy scrawl, half finished homework dumped onto the floor, or the usual stack of contraband items he kept hidden from Filch. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he was cackling over some new prank he had cooked up, or plotting something ridiculous, like replacing all of Flitwick's quills with sugar quills to see how long it would take him to notice.

But watching in stunned silence as Barty- your Barty- lay sprawled across his bed, stroking the very same stray cat like it was the love of his life.

“Oh, darling,” he murmured, pressing an affectionate kiss to the top of its head. “I knew you’d come back to me.”

You exchanged a slow, horrified glance with Regulus and Evan.

The cat, curled up in Barty’s arms, flicked its tail in disinterest. It looked particularly smug for an animal that had spent the last few days hissing at him and bolting at the first sign of movement.

Regulus was the first to break. “What,” he said, voice completely flat, “the fuck am I looking at?”

Barty yelped.

Like, full body, thrown-into-the-Black-Lake and-mauled-by-the giant-squid yelped.

He shot upright so violently that the cat in his arms went flying, landing on the floor with an indignant screech before bolting under the bed.

Barty, still half dazed, whipped around to face the three of you.

Then he saw you and his entire body locked up.

He stared, completely frozen, eyes darting between you- very much human, very much not a cat- and the actual cat now hiding under his bed.

For a moment, his brain clearly struggled to process the reality of the situation.

Then, slowly, horrified, he turned back toward the bed and whispered, voice trembling,

“Then… who the fuck is that?”

Evan wheezed. Regulus made a noise that sounded like a mix between a groan and a prayer for patience.

You just stood there, arms crossed, watching your boyfriend’s entire grasp on reality unravel before your eyes.

Barty, still looking like he had just witnessed a bloody murder, pointed at the bed. “I- I thought- ” He gestured wildly at you. “It had your eyes! It looked like you!”

Evan wiped at his eyes, barely breathing through his laughter. “Oh, mate-”

Regulus rubbed his temples. “This is painful to watch.”

Barty suddenly lunged toward you, gripping your face with both hands. His blue eyes were comically wide, scanning your features with frantic intensity, as if trying to confirm that you were, in fact, real.

“You- you’re human,” he whispered.

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s usually how it works, yeah.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “But I-” He turned back to the cat, still cowering under his bed. “But you- ” He let go of your face and ran both hands through his hair, looking genuinely distressed. “Oh, fuck.”

Barty looked absolutely bewildered. His gaze again darted from the three of you standing in his doorway to the empty space in his arms, then back again, like his brain had momentarily shut down.

Regulus, arms crossed, gave him a withering look. “Explain.”

Evan snorted. “*Yeah, Barty. Explain why you’re making out with a bloody cat.”

“I- I wasn’t- What?” Barty spluttered, still looking thoroughly rattled and perhaps on the verge of a nervous breakdown. His cheeks were pink, his hair a mess from where he’d been lounging against the pillows. “This isn’t- You don’t-”

You raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. “Oh, please. You kissed it.”

“I did not!”

“You definitely did,” Evan drawled, smirking. “Called it darling and everything.”

“I was-” Barty stopped, face twisting in horror as realization finally dawned. He turned toward the bed, eyes wide. “Oh my god.”

Regulus pinched the bridge of his nose like he was in actual, physical pain. “You genuinely thought that was her?”

You crossed your arms. “And this is why you’ve been skipping meals and sneaking off every evening?”

Barty groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Alright, fine. I may have… mistaken a cat for my girlfriend. Briefly.”

Regulus turned to you, looking deeply unimpressed. “This is your fault.”

You scoffed. “How is this my fault? I spent the last week listening to children groaning and Pomfrey praying for a quiet night.”

“You’re the one dating him,” he said, gesturing vaguely at Barty, who was now staring at the underside of his bed like it had personally betrayed him.

Evan grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Did you know your boyfriend had fur kink?”

Barty turned a deep scarlet. “Evan!”

You snorted, but made the mistake of picturing it. Barty, draped across his four-poster bed, murmuring sweet nothings to a cat that clearly wanted him dead and immediately had to clap a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter.

Regulus sighed, looking more disappointed than anything. “Merlin, Barty. Why?”

Barty groaned again. “Okay, listen, I swear it looked like her from a distance—”

“Oh?” Evan interrupted, grinning wickedly. “Tell me, Barty, exactly which part of your human girlfriend reminded you of that flea-ridden animal except for the eyes”

Regulus nodded, giving him a deadpan look. “It has yellow eyes."

Barty shot him a glare. “Well-" But then he hesitated. “They… they glowed in the dark?”

“Unbelievable,” Regulus muttered.

“You know what?” Barty huffed, crossing his arms. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“Oh, but you do,” you said, grinning. “Because I’d really, really love to know how long you’ve been calling a feral animal by your girlfriend.”

Barty looked deeply uncomfortable.

Evan cackled. “Mate, we should check if you’re cursed. I’ve never seen a wizard be so devoted to a cat before.”

Regulus frowned. “Wait. How did you even catch it?”

A moment of silence fell yet again and Barty coughed. “… A trap.”

You gaped at him. “You set a trap for it?!”

“A very nice trap,” he defended. “With food! And a blanket! I made it comfortable.”

Evan finally lost it. Evan actually had to lean against the doorframe for support, wheezing, gasping for breath. “I can’t- Barty, you insane bastard- ”

Regulus sighed heavily. “Unbelievable.”

You, on the other hand, were struggling between mild horror and the overwhelming urge to laugh.

Because Barty- your very devoted, very dramatic boyfriend- had spent days thinking a feral cat was you.

You cleared your throat. “Just to be absolutely clear- you’ve been talking to this cat like it was me? I wrote a letter to you when I was gone”

Barty looked like he wanted to die.

“I may have… mistaken it for you,” he muttered. "And I thought that you just wrote it with your tiny little paws! Kick my balls for thinking that my girlfriend is brilliant even as a little animal."

Regulus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Merlin help me.”

Evan, tears in his eyes, managed to choke out, “Did you kiss it?”

Barty recoiled, offended. “Of course not!”

You raised an eyebrow.

He faltered.

“Okay, maybe once,” he admitted, looking disgusted with himself. “On the head! Not on the- ugh.” He shuddered violently. “Oh, Merlin, I’m going to be sick.”

Evan was on the verge of collapsing. You, finally unable to hold back your laughter, let out a loud, delighted cackle.

Barty’s head snapped toward you, looking utterly betrayed. “You’re enjoying this?”

You grinned. “Oh, immensely.”

“You don’t understand,” he groaned, looking back at the cat with actual horror. “I cuddled with it.”

Regulus sighed, looking genuinely exhausted. “This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me.”

Barty buried his face in his hands. “I need a memory charm.”

Evan wiped away another tear. “This is what happens when you skip meals and stalk animals in the middle of the night, mate.”

You smirked, stepping forward until you were right in front of Barty again. “You know,” you mused, voice teasing, “I’ve never seen you look this flustered.”

Barty groaned into his hands. “I can’t believe this.”

“I can,” Evan said cheerfully. “You’re absolutely deranged.”

Regulus gave him the second long, deeply unimpressed stare of the night. “Right.” He turned to you. “This is the man you chose.”

“I’m reconsidering,” you said, still giggling.

Barty’s head shot up. “Oi! shut up-”

Before he could finish, the cat, who had apparently had enough of this conversation, darted out from under the bed and made a break for it. It leapt onto the windowsill, tail flicking, and then, in one swift motion, it launched itself into the night.

“No!” Barty lunged for it, but the cat was already gone.

Regulus, Evan, and you watched in stunned silence as Barty remained frozen at the window, staring out like a heartbroken widow in a tragic romance novel.

"Is it dead?" you whispered in horror.

Evan was laughing again. “Mate. That was the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

Barty turned around, pointing an accusing finger. “You did this.”

Regulus scoffed. “Oh, yes, we personally convinced you to fall in love with a stray animal.”

“I did not- ” Barty stopped, exhaled sharply, then pointed at you. “You! We’re leaving.”

You blinked. “Leaving where?”

“Anywhere that isn’t here,” he snapped, marching toward you. “I refuse to be subjected to this abuse any longer.”

You barely had time to react before he grabbed your hand and dragged you out the door into the hallway, muttering about how no one appreciated his suffering.

You grinned and clenched his hand lovingly. “Don’t worry, love. At least now you’ve got a backup girlfriend.”

He looked pained. “Don’t say that."

Still in the room, Evan nudged Regulus. “Do you think it’s still got fleas?”

Barty let out a distant strangled sound. “Oh my god.”

Regulus, ignoring him, simply said, “I hope so.”

Barty ran back into his dorm, dragging you with him and ignoring your yelp of protest and immediately lunged for the cat, now frantically inspecting its fur.

Evan and Regulus walked out laughing.

And you? You just stood there, watching your deranged boyfriend have a full breakdown.

[ervotica]

bartyyyy 33. hushed conversation in-between kisses in the hallway or something as reader tries to calm him down and stop him from murdering a fellow student for looking at her/saying something to her lols. maybe she fails and he still gets a little murdery

thanks for requesting my love! ✩ 600 words

You know Barty can rarely deny you anything.

Not when you coo in that honeyed voice, slipping an arm beneath his rumpled shirt to palm at his bare skin. Murmuring reassurances against his lips, smoothing out his jagged edges with sweetened promises.

You have Barty against the wall in the corridor as you nose at his cheek. You thread your fingers through the short hairs at his nape and scratch, your grin imprinting against the side of his face when he sags against you. The anger melts from his expression like softened butter.

He tips his head back against the wall and it thumps; to entice him closer, your lips push out into a pout you know he won't be able to resist kissing.

One kiss, two, three.

You pull back until your lips are just grazing his, and wedge your shoulder under his armpit, an arm slung lazily round his back. You start to murmur against his mouth.

"Ignore him, baby. You know I only want you."

McLaggen's been harassing you for a date for weeks. It's been harmless for the most part, but you know Barty, and you know he won't think twice before kicking the fucker's teeth out.

"That's not what I'm fucked off about, treasure," he says, smoothing a hand over the crown of your skull.

He gets you by the scruff of the neck, anchoring you back for another open mouthed kiss. You push closer and hum your appreciation. Your fingers splay wide at the dip of his spine, tickling until he squirms under your touch and drops his head to the crook of your shoulder.

You feel McLaggen's furious stare but pay it no mind, too busy doting on your lovely boyfriend to care who's watching. You don't so much as glance away until he knocks his elbow with yours as he breezes past with a faux arrogance you know is all for show.

"Fuck off, McLaggen," you spit, pushing further against Barty. You feel your boyfriend lunge outwards before you're pushing him back and putting yourself in front of him as a shield.

"Treasure, I love you more than life itself, but move," Barty hisses. You sigh.

"Please don't."

He smears a kiss over the top of your head in apology before you're being moved by means of those thick fingers round your waist, lifted until you're thrust against one poor, unsuspecting Regulus Black. You let out a terse breath, steadying yourself against Regulus' shoulder with a splayed hand.

"Sorry, darling," you mumble.

"You alright?"

You nod before your eyes snap to Barty once more. He has McLaggen by the collar, thick fingers squeezing his cheeks in an effort to force eye contact as he bellows down at the boy, loud enough to hurt your ears.

"You touch my girl again and I'll break your fucking jaw, you hear me? You so much as look at her and you're dead."

His eyes are wild and you know his pulse is thrumming something rotten now he's geared up for a fight.

"Barty!" you scold.

Regulus hooks an arm around your waist to keep you from darting off through the crowd that's formed. You harrumph in protest.

"Okay, you're done," you declare, dragging Regulus by the wrist through the crowd with you as McLaggen sags and collapses rather unceremoniously at Barty's feet.

Barty's features morph from triumphant to guilty in an instant. He simpers, eyes scrunching at the corners until his crows feet crinkle. You snort and turn to face him.

"You're lucky I love you."

His eyes blow wide and he looks utterly lovesick. Beautiful, albeit mildly pathetic.

His expression flares with a possessiveness you know all too well. He drags you up his chest for a searing kiss that makes your insides flip-flop. You're breathing hard when he pulls away, slick with spit and beaming like a madman.

"Come on, killer," you snort. "Let's go to your dorm."

[uramakimochi]

Little Y/N coloring on her uncle Reggie and uncle Barty's dark marks, doodling over it and eventually they got her doodles tattooed to cover the dark mark :')

STOP THIS IS SO CUTE I ABSOLUTELY HAD TO WRITE THIS😭

LITTLE ARTIST

Wolfstar!daughter x Regulus Black & Barty Crouch Jr (obviously platonic)

Wolfstar x daughter!Reader

WARNINGS: nothing, just fluff, FEM!R, use of petnames but no use of Y/n, this is more of a story between Wolfstar!daughter and her Slytherin uncles i'm sorry, slightly sad Regulus but his beloved niece is the light of his eyes.

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

It was another one of the usual days where Regulus and Barty were babysitting you, while Remus and Sirius went out with James and Peter for a Marauders reunion.

At that precise moment Barty was lying on the sofa, with an arm over his eyes, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth and his snores echoing throughout the living room. And even if that constant sound annoyed Regulus quite a bit, it didn't even matter to you since you were too busy listening to the words of your uncle, who was reading a book aloud to you while sitting on the carpet with you in the middle of his legs.

"So the brave prince took his sword and shield and, having mounted his horse, he went to the castle where the princess-"

"Uncle Reggie?"

Regulus froze when you called his name and lowered his head to look at you. You tilted your head back against his chest and looked up at him with your big, bright eyes.

"Yes, chérie?" he asked with a smile.

"Can i ask you something?"

Regulus nodded without hesitation.

"What is it?"

"Do you have any tattoos?"

Regulus frowned slightly, not understanding where that sudden question came from.

"No, i don't. Why do you ask?"

You moved between his legs to change position and Regulus closed the book and placed it on the floor to make more room for you, so you sat turned towards him to look at him better.

"Daddy has a lot of tattoos on his arms, his legs, his stomach and even his back" you said then and Regulus nodded, knowing his brother's tattoos well. "Dad has some too, but not as many as Daddy"

You continued to rock back and forth on his legs and with one hand you pointed to Barty sleeping on the couch.

"And uncle Barty has some too"

Regulus turned to look at Barty, knowing you were talking about the tattoos on his arms, the backs of his hands, and his fingers. Unlike Sirius, he even had one on his neck, which he personally didn't like, but it was very Barty style and suited him.

"But…" you shyly said and Regulus looked back at you. "But uncle Barty said that you and him have the same tattoo. Can i see it??"

Regulus felt his heart skip a beat when he heard those words and his body tensed, but you didn't notice. He remained silent for a few seconds, thinking about what to say to you and you continued to look at him patiently, waiting for his response.

Barty had told you about the Death Eater mark. Oh, how could he have been so stupid?! Neither Regulus nor your parents wanted to introduce you to the world of dark magic, your innocence needed to be preserved for as long as possible. And both your parents and Regulus knew what you were like: if you found out why Regulus and Barty had the Dark Mark you would be worried sick about them and they didn't want to scare you.

"I don't think you'd like it" your uncle murmured, trying not to say too much.

"Why?" you asked back, tilting your head to the side. "Is it ugly?"

Yes, it's hideous. And it burns on my skin like a hot iron. If only i had the courage i would cut it off with a knife.

"No" Regulus shook his head. "I just don't like it anymore"

After he and Barty found the courage to leave the Death Eaters, Regulus obviously regretted letting them mark his skin with that horrible figure. But years had passed and now he hardly thought about it anymore. But he never truly forgot.

"I'm sure it looks nice" you replied, flashing him an innocent smile. "Come on uncle Reggie, can i see it?? Please!"

"Chérie..."

"Just this once uncle Reggie, i swear. Pleaseee"

Regulus looked into your eyes intently, deciding what to do. He saw you making sweet eyes at him, with your hands clasped in prayer and he knew that it was now impossible to refuse your request.

So, with a sigh and his heart pounding with anxiety, he stretched his arm forward and then lifted the sleeve of his shirt, showing you the mark on his arm.

You opened your eyes wide and paused to look at the skull and the snake weaving beneath it that were tattooed on his arm, the black ink contrasting sharply with his pale skin.

Regulus looked at you silently, fearing your reaction. Not that you had any idea what that mark was, but he was still worried.

"Oooh" you murmured, then lifting your head towards Regulus. “So uncle Barty has this tattoo too?”

Regulus nodded slowly, trying to smile at you. "He has it on his arm too. Like me"

"Why a skull and a snake?"

"Because we like skulls and snakes"

"Did it hurt when you did it?"

Yes.

"No, sweetheart"

"And why did you get the same tattoo?"

Regulus looked at you tilting hid head with a small smirk.

"You are much more curious than usual today, aren't you?" he said and you giggled sheepishly.

Then he let out another sigh and he looked down at your little feet, his smile falling to make room for a sadder expression.

"We got it when we were younger. We were too stupid and now we regret it"

He wasn't going to explain that he and Barty had been part of a group of murderous dark wizards, but that was the gist of it.

"Don't say that! You and uncle Barty are not stupid!" you immediately retorted and Regulus looked back at you with an amused smile.

"Chérie, you can't understand" he tried to say, but you shook your head stubbornly and looked into his eyes intensely.

"I don't care. Just because you got a tattoo you don't like anymore doesn't mean you're stupid. So don't say that anymore, uncle Reggie. Okay?"

Regulus looked at you with a soft look and after a few seconds he nodded in surrender, knowing that it was impossible to argue with you. You had taken on all of Sirius' stubbornness and it showed.

Then a loud yawn rang through the living room and you and Regulus turned to Barty, who was slowly sitting up on the couch.

"What are you two talking about?" he muttered, stretching his arms upwards to stretch awkwardly.

You jumped up to run to him.

"Uncle Barty, uncle Barty, can i see your tattoo??” you asked frantically.

Junior fixed his hair with one hand, letting out another yawn. "Haven't i already shown you my tattoos a thousand times, little viper?"

You climbed up next to him on the couch and held onto his shoulder, shaking him slightly. "No, i mean the one with the skull and the snake. The one you and uncle Reggie have on your arms!"

Barty glanced at Regulus, who looked back silently then looked at the book he had left on the carpet. They would've talked about it later.

But unlike Regulus, Barty had no problem lifting the sleeve of his sweatshirt and showing you the mark on his skin that was identical to Regulus'. You stopped to look at him, with your hands resting on his thin arm and running your finger over the black lines.

"It's ugly, right?" Barty asked and you lifted your head towards him. "Does it scare you?"

But you shook your head.

"Why would it scare me?" you asked him, confused by his words.

Your father always bragged about all the tattoos that decorated his body. Why did Barty and Regulus seem to hate that tattoo instead?

But then an idea came to your mind.

"Oh, now i understand!" you suddenly exclaimed, making the two men jump.

You got off the couch and ran out of the living room, under the confused gaze of your uncles. A few seconds later you returned to the living room holding your trusted pack of colored markers that Lily had given you and that you were very fond of.

You returned to kneel next to Barty, who still had his arm exposed and you took out a red marker, then removed the cap. But before you could touch his skin with the tip, Barty stopped your hand.

"Hey hey hey what do you think you're doing with that, little viper?" he asked skeptically.

You smiled at him. "I want to color your tattoo, uncle Barty"

"And why is that...?"

"Because it'll become more pretty this way. So you and uncle Reggie can't say it's ugly anymore"

Barty frowned, while Regulus' eyes opened slightly in surprise. You shook Barty's arm again.

"Uncle Barty, can i color your tattoo, please?" you asked him.

Junior let out a sigh but then smirked and extended his arm towards you, resting it on your lap. "Give vent to your artistic streak, baby"

You smiled happily and wasted no time coloring his tattoo, under the watchful gaze of him and Regulus. Then you took another color and began to draw other shapes over and around his one.

"What are you drawing sweetheart?" Regulus asked you, looking at you from the carpet.

"I'm doing some butterflies and flowers" you replied in a focused tone, not looking up from Barty’s arm.

"I don't like butterflies" said the latter. "They're stupid"

You lifted your head to look at him and Regulus glared at him.

"They're not stupid" you replied calmly, not offended by his words, as you were used to Barty's language. "They are pretty and colourful"

"Nah. Better spiders and scorpions"

"Ew. I don't like spiders" you said with a grimace of disgust, then went back to work.

Barty chuckled, but made no move to stop you from continuing your job. He didn't like butterflies, but he would have had his entire body filled with stupid colorful butterflies if you had just asked him. Compared to Regulus, he was rougher and even a bit weirder, but Junior was just as protective as Regulus and would've done anything for you. Anything.

After a few minutes you were done and after putting the cap back on the marker, you took Barty's wrist and lifted his arm, showing it to Regulus.

"Ta-da! Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful darling" Regulus said with a tender smile.

"You're a real artist my little viper" Barty continued, ruffling your hair and making you smile proudly. "I can't wait to show everyone this masterpiece"

You got off the couch and walked back to Regulus, clutching the box of markers in your hands.

"Uncle Reggie, can i color your tattoo too?" you asked, rocking on your heels. "Maybe you'll like it more with some colors"

Regulus smiled as his heart swelled: he loved your sweetness and your innocence and he knew that despite the age gap that separated you, he could always feel safe with you, because you never judged him. You still couldn't realize it, but since Remus and Sirius had taken you in, you had become not only his beloved niece, but also Regulus's safe place.

"Of course chérie" Regulus nodded, rolling up again the sleeve of his marked arm.

You wasted no time in sitting between his crossed legs again and brought his arm into your lap, picking up a marker and starting to color. Regulus admired you coloring his mark, not caring that you were going outside the edges and then you started drawing something else, like you had done with Barty. But on Regulus' skin, instead of butterflies and colorful flowers, you had chosen to draw the moon, the sun and planets surrounded by many stars.

Regulus almost felt his eyes watering but managed to hold back the tears, especially since Barty was still there. So he limited himself to giving you a small kiss on the head, leaving his lips pressed to your hair for a few seconds, while you continued with your work, humming a melody invented on the moment. 

A few days later, Regulus and Barty came to visit Sirius and Remus and you and stayed for dinner (even though your parents would have preferred just Regulus to be there, but obviously they're joking).

"Come here sweetheart" Regulus called to you, inviting you to come closer with a wave of his hand. "I want to show you something"

You immediately got off Sirius' lap to go over to him and Barty, who were sitting on the other sofa, curious as ever.

Regulus lifted his sleeve, revealing his Dark Mark and you let out a gasp. Remus and Sirius frowned at the other two men, not too happy that you were aware of the mark, even if you didn't know the dark truth behind it. But before they could say anything in protest, they also noticed with shock what was on Regulus' arm.

You raised your head to look at your uncle with wide eyes. "Is this my drawing??"

Regulus nodded with a smile and you immediately rubbed your hand up and down his arm and your mouth fell open as you realized that the drawings of planets you had made on his skin weren't going away.

You didn't remember it precisely but Regulus did, and every single detail of the drawings you had done on him a few days before had been tattooed on his skin.

"It's a new tattoo, baby" Barty continued, noticing your confused eyes. "Look"

He lifted his sleeve, showing his mark and to your amazement you and your parents saw that his arm was full of colorful butterflies and flowers.

"I'm not understanding..." Remus murmured in confusion, alternating his gaze from Regulus to Barty.

"There is nothing difficult to understand, Lupin" Junior retorted. "My little viper here improved our tattoos because we didn't like them. This design suits my style much more, don't you think?"

"I love them!" you exclaimed with a toothy grin, bouncing in place. "I'm happy you like them more now!"

Regulus chuckled at your enthusiasm and leaned over to give you a hug, which you immediately returned. "It was thanks to you, chérie"

"Next time i want to get a new tattoo i'll ask you again, baby" Barty said looking at you with a smirk and you nodded frantically.

"Sure!"

Both Sirius and Remus stood up to take a closer look at what the other two had gotten tattooed. And they had to admit that both you and the tattoo artist had done a great job. The mark was hardly visible under all those drawings that came from your imagination.

"Reggie..." Sirius murmured then, catching his brother's attention. But Regulus gave him a smile when he saw his slightly sad look.

"Don't worry, Sirius. I'm fine" he said softly, not wanting you to know what they were talking about. "Thanks to what she did now i know that i can leave it all behind and forget"

Both Black brothers watched you admire the flowers decorating Barty's arm with a proud smile, along with Remus.

"I thought you hated butterflies, Barty" the latter said with an arrogant smirk equal to the tone Junior had used with him earlier.

"Shut your mouth Lupin. You cannot understand the meaning of this work of art"

Sirius placed a hand on Regulus' shoulder and squeezed it in comfort, before walking up behind you and lifting you into his arms, making you squeal in surprise.

"Ahh i can't believe my daughter did a tattoo for her uncles, especially for Barty?? Before your own dad?? This is not fair!" Sirius exclaimed dramatically, spinning in circles and making you laugh while Junior rolled his eyes.

When he stopped he looked intently into your eyes, nuzzling his nose against your soft cheek. "We need to fix this right away, young lady. You'll design a tattoo for me too now, right?"

And you nodded without hesitation.

"I'd love to, daddy!"

[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

[crescenthistory]

slight air and purging fire

Pairing: Barty Crouch Jr. x Reader

Summary: He's your person and, apparently, you're his flame. Your more-than-a-best-friend spends the evening with you when Regulus needs a break, and you're both happy for the excuse.

Words: 4.1k

Warnings: gn!reader, no use of y/n, pyromaniac!barty, best friends to lovers, undiscussed relationship, just sweet fluff, physical affection, barty is always a bit suggestive, vague references to barty's mental state/trauma, cuddling, banter, implied autistic!regulus, background bsf!moonwater

Note: i haven't written a full barty fic since december, this was so cathartic<33 i still have some small drabbles from my celebration to release but wanted to share this with you before. and yes the title is from shakespeare even though i reference woolf in this, sue me. much love xx

It wasn’t an as common occurrence anymore, as Regulus had become more grounded the closer he got to Remus, but it was an ingrained habit regardless – every now and again, the dark haired boy would come to pull at your sleeve and give you a look.

A desperate exhausted look that clearly read “come get your beast under control”.

Over the years of sharing a dorm with Barty, Regulus had grown not only passionately loyal and affectionate towards him, but also rather sensorially detached. Meaning that most days, he was able to just tune his best friend’s antics out when they were too overstimulating or in his face. When Barty either talked a mile a minute for too many minutes, couldn’t sit still or couldn’t help from physically engaging with Regulus in some capacity, causing him to switch his brain off to deal with all the inputs. However, even the best soldier occasionally needs backup, and lucky for all the boys in their dormitory, said backup waltzed into their lives in year three and had been the only one fully able to quiet and anchor the hotheaded boy.

Your friendship with Barty came as naturally as a sunrise when you were paired together for a Potions project – you were his first desk partner that could thread the balance of stopping him from blowing up your cauldron and still having fun. 

He adored you for it.

You found he wasn’t half bad either.

The nature of your relationship and dynamic changed over the years as you grew up side by side, but the overall sentiment remained the same; you were each other’s person. Barty managed to catch every aspect of you both metaphorically and physically, and with you, Barty could move at a regular pace without losing himself.

You became Regulus’ secret weapon rather quickly when you were integrated fully into their friend group. 

“How do you do it? Why is he… like that with you?” Regulus asked you once in fourth year when Barty had fallen asleep with his head in your lap after three days of refusing to sleep. 

His legs were hanging over each side of the sofa, one shoe mysteriously missing, but he seemed perfectly at peace in your lap. You carded your fingers gently through his hair, separating the green and brown strands with a small smile on your face. “Like what?”

“It’s like he goes quiet.”

You snorted. “Barty is never quiet, even when I’m around.”

Regulus gave you a so-so shrug. “Not literally – but he kind of is, though. He will always be Barty, but it’s like he’s more… at peace. With you.”

You didn’t know why at the time, but you couldn’t meet Regulus’ gaze since he started this line of questioning. “I don’t know. If he is, I’m grateful for it, though. He’s the best friend I’ve ever had.”

It was probably never fully platonic between you and Barty, you recognise now. Laying on your stomach in your dorm while reading a book only half-focussed with your mind straying away to silver piercings, canine-grins and that laugh. 

He was the best friend you could have, but more so in the same way a dog is or, you’d hope, a husband would be. You shook the thought from your head.

It was a slow development – while you became inseparable friends within a week, the journey away towards a spoken, outlined romantic relationship was a long one. Not in the same way a queue is long, though, more so a cross-country roadtrip with, well, your best friend. 

Barty hugged you properly for the first time a year into your friendship. He cried in front of you for the first time in fourth year, and held your hand in fifth year. Last year, he kissed you for the first time. 

It had been quiet in that complex way Regulus had tried to put into words, where it was very clearly Barty so it was far from calm, but there was a certain peace hanging over the moment anyway. He had been having nightmares the last few weeks of term, so the two of you had taken to co-sleeping in the Room of Requirement, with your dearest prefect Regulus covering for you. Originally, Barty had conjured up two beds, but you swiftly pushed them together and charmed the gap away, giving him some snarky comment about “be sensible, Junior” that he laughed loudly at. 

There was no suggestive intent behind it, not really, just an insatiable desire for closeness. The same desire that had Barty at your side like a magnet from all the way back in third year, the same desire that flared in you each time his father or his pain came near, as if you could protect him with an embrace. 

He would have told you that you could.

It wasn’t clear to you anymore how it began, how one thing led to another. All you knew was that several days into your arrangement, you were still acting like small kids at a sleepover, staying up late because you couldn’t help but giggle. You had been in a half-cuddle but far enough apart to laugh with your entire bodies – one moment you made eye contact with your faces close to each other, your giggles spilling out across his face, the next he was trying to swallow your sounds with his smiling lips. 

There had been a lot of kisses since then, and not too many words about it. 

You would have thought it would tear you apart to live like this, having crossed the boundary over from best friends to something more without outlining it – but as with everything else, this was Barty. There had been no real boundary to cross, it was just waves in water, hand in hand. You knew inexplicably that you were safe in his hands, heart included. 

The oddest aspect of it was discovering that you had discovered a new level of comfort when you thought those had already been exhausted. Lips on lips, lips on skin, air on skin, clothes wherever, hands everywhere. 

With your finger caressing the page, a smile was still faint on your lips, and so was his touch. 

You were brought out of your idyllic mental landscapes by a physical tug on your sleeve. 

Your eyes darted down to the fabric on your left arm, seeing the jumper ruffle as if someone pinched it and be dragged out, as if you were being pulled out of your bed. The sound that escaped you were equal parts laugh and sigh, endlessly endeared by Regulus’ determination to avoid social or overstimulating situations – going to the extent of crafting spells specifically to save him. 

You slapped absentmindedly on your arm, hoping it would notify him with the energy of “okay, okay, I’m on my way”, as you rolled out of bed and made for the stairs.

The development of your relationship with Barty hadn’t come up with your friends yet. Or, you hadn’t let it, always steering the conversation away when Dorcas gave you knowing looks or Regulus whispered with you. This once, you indulged yourself to be selfish and keep him to yourself for just a bit longer.

Which is part of the reason why you leaned over the railing overlooking the common room, whistling as you spotted your group of friends around their favourite fireplace.

Regulus sat in Remus’ lap on the edge of a settee, hiding his face in the crook of his neck, looking picturesque in a way that made your heart ache with happiness for him. Evan was draped across the other side of the settee, feeding grapes to Pandora sat cross-legged on the floor with Emmeline’s head in her lap. Dorcas was absent, likely out training with Marlene, which was a totally normal thing to do with your quidditch rival, shut up you guys.

Your dearest Barty was currently laying balanced on the back of the same settee his friends were in, casting sparkling spells above him, likely to entertain himself in the calm atmosphere.

You understood why Regulus called on you. 

At the sound of your whistle, your friends’ heads whipped around to look at you, recognising the specific tune you only used for them – them being mostly Barty. You got a few greeting cheers from Barty, Evan and Emmeline, but it was the former’s grin that made your own spread.

“B!” you yelled. “Come read with me.”

You could have gone down to sit with them, but the comfort of your dorm was too overpowering tonight. Plus Regulus really really hated when Barty played with physical fire, so you figured you were doing him a double favour, too.

Anyone else making the same request – or rather, demand – to Barty would have received a scoff or a pout, but for you, Barty simply rolled off of the back of the sofa and used the momentum of his fall to run towards the stairs. He ruffled Evan’s hair on the way who flipped him off without looking up.

“Later, losers, love ya,” Barty called as he made it to the bottom of the stairs. 

He took them two at a time and before you knew it he was in front of you, placing his hand right beside yours on the railing as he looked at you with a lop-sided grin. “Thought you’d resigned for the evening.”

You bumped your fingertips into his. “Sort of. Got bored, though.”

His grin widened as he pushed off the railing to walk backwards towards your vacant dorm. “Can’t have that, can we, darling?”

You shook your head with a smile and followed after him, leaving just enough time to look over your shoulder and lock eyes with Regulus, pointing two fingers from your own eyes to his before intertwining them in a symbol of friendship. Regulus rolled his eyes at you with a smile, but Remus – his clearly better half – blew you a kiss. 

When you moved your attention back on the short walk to your dorm, you caught just the end of Barty jogging ahead so he could open your door for you with a theatrical flourish. You paid it little mind, kissing his cheek in thanks as you moved in past him, not waiting to see his reaction, if there was one.

“Where’s your roomies tonight?” Barty’s tone was half-mocking, referring to the endless saga of your two constantly absent dormmates. They were lovely people but so scattered, always either with their various partners or at events or simply just missing somehow.

Though you could hardly criticise as you do guess this is a saga of three, considering how you occasionally would stay over at Barty’s or even the Room of Requirement. You three were a perfect match. 

“Don’t know honestly,” you replied as you made to lay back down on your bed, keeping slightly to the left side. “Something about a breakup for one of them, so either partaking in a good cry session with a friend or making up once again.”

Just a year or two ago, Barty would have transfigured your small dorm bed to extend so he could sprawl out across it to his heart’s content, but to your heart’s content, he didn’t this time – he just laid down on top of your duvet with you, turned over on his side and propping his head up on his hand. “Or maybe making out with someone else, if they know what’s right for them.” Barty knew all about your dormmate’s turbulent relationships from the nights he stayed over while they were there, ranting to the both of you.  

“Oh you know all about what’s right for them, do you?” Your voice was teasing as you got more comfortable on the bed, laying your book on your bedside table.

Barty scoffed, as if to say duh. “Weren’t you going to read to me, sweetheart?” He nodded his head towards the book your fingertips were still lingering on.

The smile that spread across your face was outside your control, but you still maintained an air of sarcasm. “I believe I asked you to come read with me, I didn’t say I would read to you,” you clarified with a raised brow. “And I didn’t think you actually would.”

Barty leaned across from you and nipped the book off the table to hand over to you, the small paperback and his hand barely fitting between you two given the cramped space. “I want to hear you read.” 

He said it matter-of-factly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and you supposed it was. You would occasionally read to Barty when he needed help falling asleep, memories that though born from a bad situation rested fondly in your heart.

You took the book from him, opening it to the right page with one hand before looking up at him with appled cheeks. As soon as his hand was off the book, it settled on your hip instead, fingertips sliding beneath your jumper to rest against your skin there.

“Please,” he added when you didn’t reply right away. 

“Whatever my boy wants, right?” Your tone wound up being more affectionate than teasing. “Do you want it read softly or theatrically?”

When he tilted his head sideways to read the book’s spine, some of his hair fell into his eyes, which you promptly pushed back. “Is it possible to read Virginia Woolf theatrically?” he asked with a humoured tone.

“Oh, you have no idea. Obviously I have to do it theatrically now.”

Barty squeezed your hip as he all-but giggled. “Alright, show me the ropes then.”

He folded his arm to lay his head down to rest as his gaze fixated on your face as you read to him. Perhaps you would have felt self-conscious in any other situation, but with Barty’s legs tangling with yours, the scent of his shampoo filling your nose and his hums of approval, you were everything but. 

As you read, Barty pushed your jumper further up so that your side was exposed, enabling him to trace various patterns there while you read. Whether there was any sense to the chaos you wouldn’t know, eyes focussed on the page to give him the most proper experience of how theatrical Virginia Woolf truly could be. 

With Barty, time trickled by in an odd way. You felt as if you were spending centuries together without any of it wearing you down – in the sense that time passed quick but the minutes always carried more meaning when together. You got through two chapters, interrupted by long bouts of laughter when Woolf’s comedy struck through or when your attempt at one of the character’s accents thoroughly failed, before you began to tire out. 

His hand never left your side as you read, and when you laughed, Barty seemed to tackle you in a hug so he could feel every vibration of your laughter run through his own body. 

As you finished up the second chapter, a shiver ran down your spine for reasons you couldn’t quite pinpoint. Barty propped himself back up on his elbow to grab his wand from the nightstand and bring the duvet you were laying on to spread out over you without disturbing your position.

“Want to give that beautiful voice a break, darling?” Even as Barty asked, he was already gently – almost disproportionately so – taking the book from your hands and putting your water bottle into them instead.

You nodded as you put the bottle to your lips, swallowing greedy mouthfuls of water, though not regretting the activity in the slightest. Barty’s eyes followed the movement of your throat, eventually letting them trail up to meet your own as he took your bottle and placed it beside the bed with ease.

When you laid back down against your small mountain of pillows, Barty scooted closer to you and pushed your jumper back up where it had fallen down. He stared at his own fingers’ movements as he dragged just the tips over the curve of your hip, swirling around near your ribs before making the journey back down. He looked hypnotised by the movement, but your own eyes never left his face.

You heaved a large sigh, the one that drags itself from your lungs when you’re completely relaxed after a long day.

Without looking up, Barty asked, “Okay?” You were unsure if he was asking if you were okay, if his touching you were okay or something else entirely. 

Either way, the answer was: “Yes, love.”

At the term of endearment, Barty looked up at you at last, his teeth flashing as he smiled. He let his fingertips trail up the side of your body to your face as his eyes flitted across it, seeming increasingly content with what he found.

The silence was comfortable as you let him trace the lines of your face – your jaw up to your ear, cheekbones, browbones, forehead, nose, lips.

You almost wondered if you could have fallen asleep like this, safe and comfortable in this atmosphere he created that you almost dared call reverent, until he spoke again.

“My flame.” 

He said it absentmindedly as he caressed your face, almost as if he didn’t even notice he said it. His hand couldn’t stay still, using its quest on your face as a form of stimming, sensory seeking in his affection.

“Your what?” you asked quietly, humour laced into your voice that automatically tugged on the corners of his lips. 

“Flame,” he clarified, as if it was obvious. 

When he didn’t elaborate, you poked him teasingly in the ribs – simultaneously taking the opportunity to slip your hand up beneath his shirt to splay across his bare back.

“Just thinking about something Evans told me in Muggle Studies.” His smile grew slowly as he recalled more and more of the memory.

“Since when do you pay attention in Muggle Studies?” When you laughed, your face moved too much for him to trace, and he moved his fingers back into your hair until it evened out again.

He huffed in faux offense for only a second before relenting with a smile and an eye roll. “Only when Evans tells me weird fun facts. She understands what I find entertaining. None of that rain-wear bullshit – I want to know about the crazies.”

“Understandable. Game recognises game.”

Barty pinched your cheek lightly and stuck his tongue out at you. “Is that why we’re friends?”

“You tell me.” Your smile had an undertone he didn’t seem to miss as his expression turned just a fraction more bashful. You pressed your hand more flat against his back in encouragement. “What did Lily tell you about?”

“Oh, nothing.” He looked past you for a second with an absent yet pleased gaze before returning it to your awaiting expression. “Just about how some muggles believe in something called twin flames. It’s basically the same soulmate crap as everything else, divine connections and whatnot. Just people finding another way to explain their love. But I liked the name.”

His eyebrows moved emphatically as he spoke in quintessential Barty fashion. It filled you with a sensation only eased by moving your free hand to wedge beneath his cheek, resting there as a makeshift pillow, thumb brushing across his cheek. “Did you now?” 

He hummed in the affirmative. “I like flames.”

You snorted at that, which made his eyes light up and crinkle.

“No, I mean it–”

“I know you do.”

Barty rolled his eyes but his teeth were still on full display. “Do you want to hear my reasoning or not?”

You pressed your lips together to keep from continuing the banter and nodded. You wanted to see where this would go.

“I like flames. I like how they look, their warmth, how they make me feel. I’m always just itching to see one, to light something on fire or see sparks fly. But not when I’m with you.” 

His expression had neutralised as he kept studying you with an observant gaze – it felt like every twitch or movement held grand meaning to him. You felt like poking fun, but your voice came out almost as reverent as his. “Is this you saying you’re not bored when you’re with me?”

“This is me saying I’m not insane when you’re with me.”

Your smile instantly softened, hand on his back increasing pressure as it slid further up to rest over his heart. “You’re never insane, B,” you whispered. “Not actually, regardless of if I’m there or not.”

His eyes crinkled as if he was smiling, but his lips were pressed together, as if in thought. It wasn’t often you saw him thinking over his words before opening his mouth.

“This is me saying I love you.” His brows twitched into a furrow as he tilted his head sideways into your palm. “I don’t need that… that distraction when I’m with you. My flame.”

Your lips parted momentarily, as an oh died on them. Your eyes moved across his face rapidly, drinking in the expression, committing every open window into his soul to memory. He seemingly let you, a soft smile resting on his lips, though it was more vulnerable than you thought you had seen it.

“Love ya” was common in your friend group after Pandora went on a mission to normalise it between you. Elaborate practical jokes about proposing to one another or being secret lovers were a longstanding tradition. Your special bond with Barty was a given to you.

This, though, this was new – yet it did not feel like uncharted territory as you moved to respond.

Your face gravitated closer and closer to his as your gaze flickered between his lips and his eyes. “Then you might forgive me for saying I love you too, then?”

Barty’s breath hitched, but the sound was quickly taken over by a soft laugh as he leaned his forehead forward the last few centimetres that separated it from yours. “I don’t think there’s anything I wouldn’t forgive you for, darling. Though it might mean you’re more insane than I am.”

You shook your head softly. “Again, you’re not insane, B. That is an oversimplification made solely for jokes – same as how Regulus isn’t actually boring, even when you joke he is.”

Barty furrowed his brows deeply. “Who told you those were jokes?”

Your hand beneath his shirt pinched him, drawing a yelp from him followed by a deep giggle that you happily mirrored.

“No, I know, I know,” he said through a laugh, locking gaze with you through his lashes. “But I do feel crazy without you. That’s how I know.”

You didn’t need to ask what he was referring to. You looked down between you for a moment as you could not contain your smile. A comfortable warmth began to spread through your body, as if something was carved in stone with each touch, each smile.

“I do suppose it’s safer you entertain yourself with me rather than light fire to innocent structures and civilians.”

Barty hummed appreciatively as he took on a theatrically wolfish expression. “And Salazar, do I know how to entertain myself with you.”

This time you pinched him harder as a scandalous bark of laughter escaped you – both of which seemingly triggered Barty to roll his body forward and over you, winding up on the very edge of the bed with you now held flush against him, laughing together like the kids in love you were.

You shrieked as he manhandled you into the chaotic embrace, laughing against his neck as you held onto him tighter. “You beast!”

“Your beast,” he corrected, pressing his forehead back against yours while his palm cupped your cheek fondly. “Right?”

You weren’t ashamed to admit you melted into him; your expression surely lovestruck. “Right.” You nodded, dazed. “Mine.”

His smile twitched repeatedly as he maintained eye contact. “My flame?”

“Yours.”

There was a certain glossiness to his gaze as he pressed his lips together and nodded faux matter-of-factly. “Sounds like a fair arrangement?” 

You had never been more grateful to be fluent in Barty. It made that one sentence hold so much more sentimental worth in your heart.

“I reckon that’s fair, yeah.”

You didn’t wait for Barty to kiss you before you closed the distance between you with enough force to push him off his side onto his back – nearly off of the bed.

Just like the first time, you were laughing against each other’s lips, swallowing more and more of the sounds as you devoured the other, heart and soul.

Unlike the first time, when you intertwined your fingers beside his head and squeezed, there was no question in your heart left in your heart.

[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.’