#barty is so hot

[heliosinwater]

i need me a man like barty crouch jr. PLEASE GOD. 🙏

[fiasco95]

[Pandora staring at a shirtless Regulus smoking and reading a book by the window alcove.]

Pandora:

Pandora: Okay. Those who agree Regulus is hot, say aye. Aye.

Barty: Aye.

Dorcas: Aye.

Evan: Aye.

Marlene: Aye.

James: Aye.

Pandora: …

Pandora: MARLENE???

Pandora: JAMES POTTER?!?!

Marlene: hey I may be a lesbian but I’m not blind.

James: I’m blind but that has nothing to do with anything, he’s just hot.

Pandora:

Pandora: That’s not what I had a problem with but okay.

[cat-s0ul]

Possessive Evan Rosier and Clingy Barty Crouch Jr.

[blue-moon-vibes01]

real hot girls obsess over dead gay wizards

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@rosekillermicrofic may 4 — hopeless — 1233words — cw: mildly pervy and sexual thoughts, nothing explicit though

no thoughts, just line cook! barty

A miracle.

The gods have heard Barty’s wishes and granted him this blessing.

Evan usually gets set up for dealing with the bar or counter but on rare occasions his lovely name gets jotted down in the column of servers/busboys. Today is one of those fateful occurrences which means Barty has at least 30% longer time windows of flirting his jolly ass off and burning food he’s not paying attention to curtsy of Evan’s slutty narrow hips in those damn aprons. Obscene things, those are.

Barty is currently staring at them as he blindly flips the burger patties one after the other, the stove sizzling animatedly. Barty is pretty sure he hasn’t blinked once since Evan has entered the kitchen again a minute ago to help sort dishes.

“So how’s your day been so far, Evan darling?”

“No,” comes back immediately. Not even a look thrown over his shoulder.

Barty’s grin widens. He puts more meat on the stove.

“Aw, c’mon. People been scant with tips already or what?”

Evan doesn’t reply, instead ripping off the notes from his pad and wordlessly striding over to Barty’s station, pinning them up.

Two of today’s specials, one cheesesteak and one portion of chicken for a caesar salad. And a little dick scribbled in the bottom corner.

“More people coming in than usual. Get a move on,” Evan says before briskly walking off again. Barty just so manages to get a whiff of spicy deodorant and whatever shea butter coconut extract beauty shit Evan uses for his curls before he’s gone again.

Barty sighs, looking after his pert little ass and long legs all the way until he’s around the corner. Then he readjusts his grip on the spatula and finally picks the patties off the grill, calling for Lily to collect them and assemble.

“They’re burnt,” she hisses, punching him in the arm with vigor. It hurts but Barty is too busy thinking about what type of underwear Evan might be wearing today. “Stop getting distracted by Rosier and do your damn job, chef.”

Barty hums, “What you think it’ll take to trick Evan into following me into the freezer room?”

Another hit. The same exact spot and Barty can’t help but hiss in pain this time.

Lily simply shakes her head, muttering Hopeless as she leaves.

Rush hour comes and goes.

Barty doesn’t let himself be bothered by the frenzy of it, bobbing his head to his playlist jamming over the old, staticy speakers while servers bustle around him like worker bees.

It’s meditative to him in a way and usually he sort of snaps out of it once it all calms down.

It’s when Evan asks him for leftover containers that Barty is brought back down to earth today.

The other boy is flushed in the face, slightly sweaty and hair messy with what can only be described as the final quarter of an eight hour shift look. It looks unfairly sexy on him.

The take out containers are in the cupboard over Barty’s head to his left side which he made sure to push all the way back during his break earlier.

“Yeah, they’re right here,” Barty says, nodding to the shelf.

“Grab two for me?”

Barty turns back to his meat again, teeth digging into his lower lip, grin straining his cheeks. “Nope.”

There’s nothing for a few seconds, only the background noise of the restaurant, the sizzling oil and Barty’s music.

When he turns again Evan is standing in the middle of the kitchen, rooted to the spot, blinking at Barty once. “‘No’?”

Barty hums, “Yeah, ’m pretty busy right now in case you can’t tell.” He shuffles a strip of bacon around as if to prove his point.

Evan’s eyes narrow, lips twisting into an obscene little pout, “You just have to lift your arm!”

“Sorry, no can do, Rosie baby.”

“You-” Evan huffs, “Hand me the fucking boxes, Crouch.”

“Can’t,” he replies airily, shrugging. “They’re pretty high up, too,” a hum, “I might not even be tall enough. I think you’ll have to walk your devilishly tall ass over here and grab them yourself.”

“Branleur,” Evan spits before reluctantly closing the distance between them.

His amber eyes glower dangerously at Barty and he has to suppress a deeply satisfactory hum, gut tightening and blood thrumming.

Evan yanks at the handle, opening it up to the ceiling before stretching up on his tiptoes to peer into it. He lets out a grumble, presumably at finding the containers to, in fact, be there but pushed all the way to the wall.

He’s only taller than Barty by a bit, an inch or two, maybe three, which means he’s struggling to reach the boxes too.

And it’s glorious and heavenly and so very tempting because Evan’s shirt is riding up in the back and, oh god, he has dimples there. Fuck, Evan has back dimples and they’re approximately half an armslength from Barty’s twitching fingers and it really requires visceral effort not to reach out and dig the pads of his thumbs into them. Push and maybe fold Evan right in half over the counter all together. Lick along his spine and bite into his hip bones, the smooth skin of his stomach, nibble at that one little mole right next to his navel that Barty was once fortunate enough to make acquaintance with and has since rubbed one out to more times than he could count.

When the other boy lifts back down he catches him staring, their eyes snapping to each other instantly.

“Don’t be a perv,” Evan comments, giving Barty a derogative once over and christ, no, don’t do that.

Barty laves his tongue along the corner of his own mouth, collecting spit that was threatening to drool, and uses a quick hand to adjust himself in his jeans.

Evan’s eyes follow his movement, arms crossing in front of his chest and a heavy breath punches out of Barty. He can’t help it, his mind is a powerpoint of all the different things he wants to do to Evan to make him lose this put-on condescending demeanor. Glimpses of the prettiest pair of eyes rolling back, eyebrows scrunching pitifully as Barty sinks into deliciously tight heat.

He desperately needs to get Evan alone with him. “Wanna smoke a blunt with me after closing?” he blurts.

And then Evan suddenly smiles. A downright cute little thing, all coy and syrupy sweet, poisonously candid. So viscous saccharine Barty feels it immobilize him like a glue trap and he groans in anticipation of the fatal blow Evan is about to deliver.

“Sorry, B,” he murmurs innocently, clicking his head, “no can do.”

It glides over Evan’s lips all strained and faux and with the most erotic little pitch Barty’s ears have ever heard.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his semi straining so heavily against the denim it would surely be visible without his own apron.

From one moment to the next Evan’s smile falls, having fulfilled its purpose, and he gives one last snootily look before he whirls on his heels and marches away, takeout containers in hand.

Just over to the other end of the kitchen where he bends down to grab some cutlery with which he will scrape the leftovers from the plate into the aluminum containers.

Doing so, Evan’s shirt rides up again, his ass jutting out and Barty vaguely registers the smell of burnt pork as he commits the muscle shift of Evan’s thighs and back into his memory for later.

[futurequibblerjournalist]

It’s such a slept on thing that Reggie is canonically really into quidditch. Like just imagine him and Barty bonding over it and them talking about the best sort of brooms and which ones they’d like and Evan just hates it cause he doesn’t get it. The potential istg you guys

[thatcoolguyeli]

barty who loves to play with evans rings and tries them on but without fail he gets them stuck of his fingers. evan calls him an dumbass as he pulls them off and bartys sat there blushing like a idiot looking up at him

[bombyxluna]

Vampire Barty with retractable fangs, Evan loves to press his fingers against his gum and watch them slide down, sharp and deadly, absolutely fascinated by the venom dripping from them

[foursaints]

Barty is the tenured professor that does and says absolutely whatever the fuck he wants his students are all either down bad or terrified of him

i think i struggle to picture this because being a college professor & being a high school teacher (like he was in gof) are such different skillsets... i always want to see him as an elementary school teacher.

i truly believe barty would be the wildly unprofessional but deeply beloved 4th grade teacher with a snake in his classroom, or perhaps a ferret, who wears band shirts to school and STRUGGLES not to say "fuck yeah!!!" every twenty minutes

[earlgreymoony]

Sapphic rosekiller could stomp on my neck with spiky shoes and I'd thank them. These are my wives, lemme just squeeeeeze myself in the middle. Plz.

[multishipperofgaydeadwizards]

regulus forgets to bring jackets or hoodies often when it gets colder. he doesn't accept any from anyone either. except for barty, he always takes barty's jacket, hoodie, etc.

he also doesn't forget them on purpose wdym pandora

until that one night where he takes james jacket and watches barty grow incredibly jealous (but that wasn't on purpose either, of course)

[knockoff-conlon]

no. the relationships we need more of are the toxic ones. the ones where they really need each other to be there but they resent the fact that they need each other. the ones where they punch each other in the face and then clean their wounds. where they'll rip each other to shreds with their words and then watch tv and eat ice cream together. where they've seen each other screaming and crying and throwing up on their knees and would never tell anyone but don't remember the other's birthday.

i am a sucker for those sorts of relationships. where everything sucks and hurts and they hate each other but they've been around each other too long to leave now.

they just need to hate each other and need each other and really REALLY love each other.

[prongsmirrorball]

headcanon

evan and barty were the firsts in the slytherin group to get together and they were just so??? aesthetic??? exactly how you would picture a perfect slytherin couple

they were flirty,constantly teasing each other ,dressed very slutty and cool,smoked together and overall very hot, they were THAT couple yk

so everyone kinda of expected regulus to have a relationship similar to theirs because they had similar personalities and he always hung up with them until one day evan and barty came back to their dorm after a walk just to find regulus asleep in his bed AND in JAMES POTTER’S ARMS who was looking at him with absolute heart eyes while cuddling him

[evermoreismychild]

Sirius, leaning close to james and singing: i know who you liiike

James, standing at the altar: yeah, your brother. we’re at my wedding you idiot

[bloodbruise]

omg I need to know what your thoughts on james and barty are asap

honestly haven't thought much of them on their own but their dynamic in rosestarkillerchaser >>> i just know barty would antagonize the fuck out of james. like disagreeing with him for no reason, picking petty arguments, provoking him. you know, the works. and james tries so hard to keep his cool but eventually he loses patience and tries to fuck the insolence out of barty

[starratzz]

Mary Macdonald