#dad!barty

[crescenthistory]

barty and his polar opposite daughter

synopsis: based on this post, barty raises a sweet girl who winds up being the polar opposite of himself – a polite, emphatic, pink-loving, tea-having little princess – and he adores her for it. while walking in the park, they meet a stranger with a dog that infatuates the both of them.

wc: 3.8k

cw: fem!reader, girl dad!barty, kid fic, single parent, modern muggle au, barty pov, ophelia being a whimsical polite sweetheart, meet-cute in the park, fluff, playing fetch, flirting, physical affection, implied that barty’s mum is dead, wider world building that includes reader working at the valkyries welfare community centre and barty being a mechanic

Barty is incredibly proud of two things – the perfect little girl on his shoulders, and his impeccable trapezius keeping her up.

Ophelia is his sweetheart, both in the sense that he adores her more than anything in the world and that she is a literal sweetheart, kind through and through. More often than not, Barty wondered how the two of them could possibly have been cut from the same cloth, although the physical resemblance is undeniable. Her dark brown curls mix with his own from where she sits, his acid green streaks and her pink bows the only way to determine where hers starts and his ends.

There had been many potential last straws for Barty to finally ditch the Crouch family, but only when his uncle Silas birthed yet another illegitimate child and decided to just “dump this one in foster care”, did Barty throw in the towel. At that point he had only seen Ophelia once, sleeping in a bassinet, but he was already enamoured. There was just something about her that screamed for him to finally do something more than just piss his father off. Maybe it was her chubby cheeks, maybe it was how she reminded him of that picture he always treasured of his mother holding him as a baby, but that was enough for him.

He had a secure enough found family by then that he could up and leave and take the kid. He vowed that Ophelia would not have the childhood he did; she would be herself no matter who that may be. His father called him crazy, and Barty called him all sorts of names in return. His friends had their doubts, he’s sure of it, but Pandora and Evan helped him buy a flat in a safe neighbourhood on the outskirts of London, Regulus helped him get legal custody, and Dorcas taught him everything he needed to know about babies to begin with. The rest he learned along the way.

It worked, even as Ophelia quickly became a fierce personality in her own right. At just three, she was an utter angel and his whole world.

If he could say so himself, he thought he had this parent thing under control, believe it or not.

She sits on top of his shoulders as he walks the two of them through Regent’s Park – her favourite in London – while her small hands are buried in his hair to steer him as she called it, grabbing onto the green strands specifically. She’s wearing her Princess Aurora replica dress, pink and fluffy, the excess fabric spilling down his back, covering his Sex Pistols t-shirt.

They look fabulous together, thank you very much.

“Good morning, loves!” Ophelia calls and waves enthusiastically, voice melodic as it cuts through the fresh breeze. Barty turns his head ever so slightly to see the elderly couple passing them on the path, just barely catching how the man furrows his brows in surprise while the lady smiles brightly and returns the greeting.

Barty squeezes Ophelia’s plush thighs where he holds her securely, ensuring she can dance and wave on his shoulders without falling off. Her glittery blinking trainers shoot directly into his line of sight as she kicks her feet and giggles when a jogger waves at her as they pass.

“D’you want to run too, Ophie?” he asks, turning his head backwards to grin at her. 

“Yes, yes!” Ophelia wastes no time in agreeing, clutching onto Barty even tighter in preparation. “Run, horsey!”

He has never been above making a fool of himself. Barty holds onto Ophelia with his ringed fingers and begins to run along the path by the lake, keeping his back slightly bent to not jostle her as much.

Ophelia cheers, bending her head to rest it beside Barty’s for protection from the increase in wind – it makes it so that her giggles trickle directly into his ear. Barty can’t help but grin, the two of them a flash of black and pink as he gallops for the little girl.

“Dada, look, it’s a doggy!” She abruptly declares, trying to push his head sideways to look.

Barty slows down, straightening up a little to look in the direction Ophelia is trying to gesture him towards. It takes him a second, but then he spots it.

Though, while Ophelia is already squiggling to get off of his shoulders to run to greet the puppy, Barty finds himself a little preoccupied with its owner. On the open field beside the lake, a lovely, lovely woman is smiling so brightly it almost cuts him apart and compels the pieces to run towards her.

And sure, yes, she has a dog with her.

“Hello, Dada?” Ophelia’s voice pulls him out of his momentary stupor, particularly because it sounds a little softer, her earlier excitement replaced with empathy, as if sensing his distraction.

Her sweet kindness is wasted on him, so Barty squeezes her thighs once more and replies, “Yes baby, that’s a little puppy for sure. Want to go say hi?”

She grins, concern immediately forgotten as she lets go of his hair in favour of clapping her tiny hands together. “Yes please, I would very much like that, I want to say hi to the doggy.”

Barty looks back towards the one who caught his attention earlier – only to see that he had caught hers. Or, a better way of phrasing that statement, would be that Ophelia and her cheers had caught her attention.

You straighten up from where you had been scratching your dog’s head, clearly rewarding her with something, and smile warmly, albeit somewhat cautiously, as you watch the two of them approaching. You pull your dog closer to you by the collar and Barty can just barely catch you giving her a “stay” command. 

He is about to open his mouth to announce themselves, but is cut off by his little wingwoman. “Hi, love, good morning!” Ophelia greets happily. “Can I please pet your beautiful doggy?”

Any apprehension he might have scouted in your expression previously melts away as softness appears in your eyes. It feels like you’re looking at him, but he can tell you’re meeting Ophelia’s eyes.

“Of course, angel, so long as your adult agrees.” Your voice is different than he had expected it to be, your accent engulfing him. Barty finds himself disproportionately intrigued by you, but he has never been one to deny himself of interest.

Dutifully, Ophelia leans sideways to look at her father properly, making him tighten his hold on her lest she fall. Already as she begins to politely inquire if she is allowed, he is crouching down, black jeans constricting around his knees, to let her off. 

“There you go, princess,” he says as he eases her off his shoulders and onto the ground, her trainers immediately blinking in the colours of the rainbow. “Make sure to let the dog smell your hand first, ‘kay?”

He looks up to watch as you follow his movements in crouching down, sitting parallel beside your dog so that you’re on Ophelia’s level. “Hiya darling, what’s your name?” you ask sweetly.

“I am Ophelia, I am three years old,” Ophelia recites as she reaches out her hand for the dog to smell. Barty can’t tell what type of dog it is yet, but it has kind brown eyes. 

“Wow! Three is quite big,” you muse, looking over to catch Barty’s eye, sharing a moment of connection before you look back to her. “This right here is Flora, she’s just a little younger than you at 2 years old.”

Ophelia gasps. “She’s a baby!”

Barty looks down with a grin, leaning his elbows on top of his knees as he watches Flora sniff Ophelia’s hand happily before bending her neck to let his little girl scratch her.

“Oh yes, she is,” you agree in a conspiratory voice. “Who’s the adult you’ve brought with you today?”

Ophelia lights up and removes one of the hands that were buried deep in Flora’s fur to turn around slightly and point at Barty who’s sat almost directly behind her. “This is my Dada! His name is BeeBee and I’m baby.” She pronounces baby as bay-bee so that it rhymes with BeeBee.

If Barty wasn’t so damn proud of her, he might have been a bit embarrassed by his soft side being exposed to this stranger so soon. Luckily, these past three years with Ophelia has made him both softer and stronger.

“I’m Barty,” he offered, meeting your gaze with his own steady one, taking in the movement of your lips and the shine in your eyes. “I’m her father. And you are…?”

Your voice was almost breathless when you let out your name. It fit you perfectly and he found himself repeating it in a whisper.

Any time spent lingering in the moment was cut off when Ophelia loudly coos at Flora and steps closer to embrace the dog in a slightly awkward but no less adorable hug. You break out into laughter at the sight and at how Flora looks a bit concerned up at you, though making no attempts to push Ophelia away.

Barty shimmies closer to his daughter without standing back up to his full height to pull Ophelia slightly backwards and hoist her onto his knee. “Let’s give Floralita some space, alright baby, hm?” he asks, looking down at her as he makes sure she’s comfortable and still at petting-distance.

“She’s very patient, it’s alright,” you reassure him.

Ophelia seems nonplussed, smiling wildly at Barty. “Alrighty, Dada, kisses,” she declares, pressing a kiss to his cheek and then another to Flora’s head. ” Then, she gestures towards you. “Would you like a kiss too, Missy?”

Your lips part slightly and Barty prepares to protect Ophelia’s heart, but then you just cock your head sideways and nod. ��Oh yes please, how kind of you baby.”

Barty finds the corner of his lips quirk upwards and his heart stutters as you lean closer, almost all the way into his and Ophelia’s embrace, so that Ophelia can stamp a sweet kiss to your cheek, making an exaggerated mwah! sound. 

You look between the both of them, warmth only slightly more reserved towards Barty than towards Ophelia. “Do you two angels have somewhere to be, or would you like to play some with Flora? I was about to have her fetch.” You add while looking at Barty, “We’re still training her, but so far she’s very well-behaved and kind.”

“I can tell,” Barty finds himself agreeing readily. He discreetly kisses Ophelia’s temple before popping her off of his knee and back onto the ground. “This angel,” he says, gesturing to Ophelia, “insisted on a park day, so that’s what her poor old man shall provide. You wanna play fetch, don’t you, Ophie?”

Ophelia nod enthusiastically while you laugh and claimc “You’re not old.”

“I’m not?” Barty raises his brow playfully. “How would you know, stranger?”

You level him with a look. “You’re clearly my age, Barty, so watch it.”

Hearing you say his name did something to him. Ophelia quickly turned the atmosphere into a comedic one when she furrows her brows and says, “No, no, Dada is old. But that’s alright! No shame in aging.”

Before either of you can really say anything, just laugh loudly, she runs forward a bit and does a cartwheel. Barty can’t tell for certain, but Flora seems wholly confused at what his little girl was doing.

You’re still laughing, your brows all scrunched up. “She is such a sweet thing, ain’t she?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Barty agrees, standing up at last, his carabiner with his keys and Ophelia’s trinkets clinkering with his movement. 

He holds his hand out to you to help you up from where you’re still sitting on your knees, watching Ophelia spin in circles around you. For a beat, you hold his gaze, watching him tower above you. 

Barty’s heart eases when you reach out and clasp onto his hand, letting him pull you up – and if it allows him to show off all his mechanic muscles, then that was just a win-win. Your fingers linger around his wrist for a moment before you let go, colder than they ought to be on a June morning but a pleasant sensation nonetheless.

“Look at this, Ophelia.” You take off your backpack and balance it on a hiked up knee to sort through it while you’re standing. Wordlessly, Barty reaches out to hold the backpack for you so you can rummage more easily; you glance up at him briefly and mumble your thanks before fishing out the chewtoy you were looking for. You hold it up victoriously and Ophelia makes an audible sound of excitement. “C’mere lovely, let me show you.”

Barty zips the bag up for you and rests it over his shoulder as he watches you hand Flora’s toy to Ophelia. It is bright blue and sturdy, looking ridiculously large in his Ophie’s small hands. You gently explain how to throw it and what commands you will give Flora to get her to drop it once she’s come back with it.

“We call this enrichment,” you explain, eyes meeting Ophelia’s with so much patience and kindness that even Barty can feel it. “It’s how Flora relaxes and have fun. Wanna try?”

Ophelia nods, almost gravely, like she has been given a task of utmost importance. Flora sits beside you, tongue hanging out and ears perked up at the sight of her toy. 

Your hand covers Ophelia’s on the toy as you bring it backwards, ready to throw. “Then right before you throw it, you say ‘Flora, go fetch’!”

“Flora, go fetch!” Ophelia’s voice is a bit too soft spoken for the task, but with your help the toy goes flying quite far and Flora gets the gist regardless. The dog goes running at an impressive speed across the open grass and Ophelia loudly cheers and giggles.

You do this a few times, Barty watching with his hip popped sideways and the corners of his mouth perpetually twitching. This sight was more than he expected to be blessed with on their morning walk.

Eventually, Ophelia turns to you and asks, “Missy, can I go fetch as well?”

Barty snorts. You look back at him with a smile, as if asking permission, and he shrugs. “Sure thing darling, but you can’t fetch Flora’s toy or else she’ll be sad. You can go fetch this one, alright?” 

You rummage through your jacket pocket and produce a green squishy heart that looks suspiciously like a stress ball. Ophelia inspects it for less than a second before agreeing.

You get Flora to stay when you throw Ophelia’s ball, so she won’t be confused, and then you issue the same command, this time voice laced with laughter. “Alright, Ophelia, go fetch!” 

The ball goes flying in the opposite direction that Flora was chasing in, and Ophelia immediately goes running after it on her much slower, short legs, giggles flowing through the air as she goes.

Barty moves closer to you then, reaching down to pet Flora consolingly himself – although the dog is as close to smiling as a canine could get, so he’s not very concerned for her.

“Why does she call me Missy?” you ask, almost startling Barty. He turns to find a subdued smile on your face, clearly entertained by the duo you’ve met today.

“Oh, Ophie is very polite,” Barty laughs. “It’s important to her. And she’ll call everyone pet names, I think it’s her auntie’s fault. If you want her to call you something else, you can always just ask. She’s usually happy regardless.”

“She’s definitely a happy kid, yeah,” you agree. “I don’t mind it, I just found it entertaining.”

Barty looks after Ophelia, who’s caught the ball and tucked it into her dress pocket – the ones she had Dorcas sew into all her dresses – and is now cartwheeling her way back. He should get her to stop soon lest she get nauseous, but she looks too cute to intervene just yet.

“Who’s ‘we’?” Barty finds himself asking instead.

“Pardon?”

“When you talk about Flora, you say ‘we’, that ‘we’re training her’. Who’s we?” 

That most certainly was a line of questioning Barty had no business raising, but what are neglected boundaries between a pair of freshly made acquaintances? 

If you thought him inappropriate, you did a good job of concealing it as you looked down at Flora with a smile, no doubt catching sight of Barty’s tattooed knuckles rubbing behind her ear.

“Flora here is an Emotional Support Animal at this community centre I help out at,” you begin to explain, a faraway look entering your eyes, one that is full of pride. “We collaborate with a nearby shelter – you might know it, Kettleburns’? Anyway, we have some puppy love events at the centre every now and again for those who need to destress and use it as an opportunity to find new homes for the pups. And sometimes, when we find very good girls like Flora here, we adopt them ourselves. She’s my colleague Mary’s, actually.”

Barty watches you speak with a rapture that belies him. “I never would have guessed that, that’s bloody beautiful.”

“What, I don’t look like a good contributing citizen to you?” That eyebrow of yours is back up, taunting him in a way he hopes is as humoured as it feels.

“On the contrary, you’re clearly a natural with the little princess,” he says, looking over at Ophelia who stopped to smell the flowers, “I just had no idea the nearby community would mobilise like that. Thought I oughta heard of a centre like yours.”

You cross your arms, looking almost shy. “Yeah, marketing’s not our strong suit, but most of the nearby neighbourhoods know of us at least, which is the most important. You know, local efforts and all of that?”

“Yeah,” Barty breathes out. 

He’s about to ask, but you beat him to it – which makes it all the more promising. “I mean, if you’d like, you and Ophelia would be more than welcome to drop by. Everyone’s welcome. We’re open 8 AM to 8 PM most days.”

A proper smile blooms on his face. “And you?”

“What about me?” you ask, looking almost mischievous.

He turns his body properly towards you. “Are you there most days?”

You shrug, failing at looking noncommittal, what with the wide smile on your face. “Yeah, you’re bound to catch me.”

“That we will,” Barty states, and it’s most certainly a promise. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and holds it out, so that you can write down the address for him.

When he looks at the phone you returned to him, he sees the address written down beneath the name of the community centre.

“Valkyries Welfare, huh?” He looks up at you, relishing in the scrunching up of your cheeks.

“Hey, I didn’t name it,” you defend, holding up your hands. “I’m just the help!”

“No, no, it’s a good name–” He begins to explain through a laugh.

Before he can, he catches sight of Ophelia’s last cartwheel on her way up to the two of you and acts on his dad-instincts to crouch down and catch her now slightly dizzy body. She giggles heartily as she stumbles into him, her whole chest rumbling in a way that warms Barty’s.

“That was so much fun!” she exclaims through heavy breaths. “We simply must play fetch more often.”

He kisses the side of her head while looking up at you. “Gotcha, sweetheart.”

Ophelia straightens up enough to look up at you with a toothy smile. “Here you go, Missy!” She unfurls your stress ball from her pocket, taking a second to rub some dirt off it with the bottom of her dress skirt. Then, from her other pocket – yes, she insisted on two – she procures a handful of small flowers, just barely long enough to constitute a small bouquet. “For you!”

You let out a sweet sound, dropping down to a crouching position beside them once more, mimicking your earlier meeting. Flora lays down in the grass and begins rolling back and forth happily. “Are these for me?” you ask, almost breathless.

“Of course, love,” Ophelia declares kindly, holding them out more aggressively towards you to ensure you get them.

Gently, you pry them from her fingers, pulling a thin hair tie off your wrist to wrap the stems together and pop them in the breast pocket of your jacket so that the flowers poke out. You smile at them and then at her. “Thank you so much, Ophelia, that was very thoughtful and kind of you.”

Barty rarely sees his daughter grow shy – one thing they have in common is their unabashed, sometimes boisterous portrayals of themselves – but he did notice how pink her cheeks grew when she smiled at your compliment. 

“It was so lovely to meet you both,” you say then, putting your hands on your knees. 

That makes Ophelia’s smile drop. “You’re leaving?”

Barty leans his forehead against the top of her head for a few seconds to quench the emotions she always managed to stir up in him. You pout in a way that signals you may understand his struggle.

“Yes baby, I’m sorry. Flora and I have to get back to work.”

“Darn work,” Ophelia mutters, shaking her head like she is intimately aware of the struggle of labour. It brings a loue bark of laughter from Barty, making him throw his head back and crush his little girl closer to his chest.

You giggle as well, reaching out to pinch Ophelia’s chin to brighten her mood. “You be a good girl to your dad alright, and I’ll hopefully see you soon.”

“Yes please, and I will,” Ophelia agrees readily, nodding her head. “May I hug you goodbye, Missy?”

Barty studies the emotion on your face as you open your arms to his girl and give her a kind hug. It was the kind of compassion he would never expect from a stranger. When you pull back, you meet his gaze and smile a little wider.

He hoists Ophelia back up on his shoulders and hand you your backpack.

“Oh wow, I had forgotten you were holding this,” you laugh.

That makes him feel sweller than he had any right being. He nods at you, holding onto Ophelia’s hand with one of his and waving you goodbye with the other.

“Have fun, Miss Valkyrie, we’ll see you around.”

You stand with one hand on top of Flora and the other holding your elbow, seemingly forcing your grin down into a smile. “Bye Bee-Bee and baby,” you tease in return.

As Ophelia’s chatter turns over onto other subjects and her giggles trail behind the two of them as they walk the rest of Regent’s Park, Barty finds himself itching to look back over his shoulder. The second the two of them got home, he found himself googling Valkyries Welfare.

It was just for Ophie’s sake, of course.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Cat and Mouse

Dark!Dad!Barty Crouch Jr. x Mom!Reader

Wc: ~4k

Summary: The reader can never truly get away Barty, no matter how hard she tries. He'll always find his family.

CW: Dark!Possessive!Barty, AFAB!Reader, reader has a young daughter, themes of control and manipulation, being stalked, break in, a brief moment where the reader thinks her daughter is in danger, Invasion of personal space and autonomy

AN: Heavily inspired by this fic, 1000% recommend

Your daughter's giggles were always your favorite sound, especially so early in the morning. You could swear by it, it was better than any alarm clock.

Today was no exception. As you crawled out of your bed and got to your feet. You couldn't help but smile, wrapping yourself up in your silk robe and slipping on your slippers, following after the lovely sound to your daughters room. You put your hand on the doorknob and leaned down to bring your ear closer, smiling brighter as you heard her giggles persist.

“Is that funny?” You heard a deep voice coo. Your heart dropped into your stomach.

Suddenly, the bright sun of the morning chasing away all the dangers of the night felt like a fool’s tale. The shining walls and work you'd done to get here meant nothing. The summer heat that chased away the night chill did nothing to warm you as the feelings of dread overtook you.

You opened the door, trying to school your expression. Your eyes locked on your daughter who turned and smiled wide at you. “Momma! Momma, Daddy's home!”

She always looked so happy. Whenever he would come back, whenever he would find you, your daughter would look at you with those big delighted eyes. The same ones she shared with the man in front of her. You couldn't help but notice a bit of a breeze crawl up your back, not from the stare of the monster before you, but as you turned to discover, your hall window was open..

You don't know what was more terrifying, the fact he was able to get past your wards or the fact he was able to do it without waking you.

“Yeah, princess. Daddy's home.” Barty gushed to his little girl, finally getting you to turn and face him. His eyes were already locked on yours. His eyes said it all, he was challenging you, to say anything, to deny him, to push him over the edge. You had grown familiar with Barty’s looks.

In Hogwarts, he would use them to keep your quiet, remind you not to let people see you get too close to him, to keep you obedient and complacent in the web he meticulously crafted just for you. The web he still had you trapped in all these years later- you struggled, that's all you could do.

Because what could a muggleborn witch like you do to protect yourself from falling in love with a Crouch? To fall victim to his endless worship of you, just to turn around and scorn your blood in front of the people he craved to impress. It was for your protection, he guaranteed, that Voldemort would make an exception of you. That he knew your soul was destined for him and he would make it clear to everyone else that it was true.

“Darling, I'm just going to speak to mommy for a moment, alright?”

Your daughter pouted, holding up her tea cup and he laughed, waving his wand to show her the same thing you assumed he must have been showing her to make her giggle. His bloody magic. The magic you begged him not to expose her to. It wasn't safe, not for you. Certainly not for your daughter, a stain on his family tree.

When he finished he gave her a kiss to her temple, and ruffled her hair. Standing up and walking across the room to you. Quickly, you turned and grabbed your wand from your pocket. Muttering a quick spell on the window as you passed, on your way to the kitchen.

It was the same routine, everytime he found you. Fix whatever damages had been caused, close the blinds, he would dismiss your daughter so you two could talk. You knew Barty could never bring himself to hurt you, in no world would he let any harm come to you or his little girl, but that didn't mean you didn't fear his anger.

You learned what testing his limits could mean. When the war began and you found out you were pregnant, Barty was ecstatic. He bought a home in the Hogwarts highlands, he used you as his get away. He would fight in a war against who you were and come home to dote on you like you were some god. It worked, at first, you were so blinded by love you didn't stop to think about what he was doing.

It was the friends you had closed out that brought you back to reality. Sirius showed up when he knew Barty would be gone, begging you to see reason. He promised you he and Remus would be there when you came to your senses. It took a few days but eventually you packed a bag. When Barty came home you begged him to leave with you, to either join your friend's side of the war or leave it completely with you.

But Barty, he had a way about him. A way that made you foggy minded and willing to forget yourself for hours. When you woke up in his bed, alone again the next morning, you knew it was time.

You'd spent months on end trying to keep away from him. But no matter where you went, he always found you.

Your daughter's giggles echoed in your mind as you moved through the motions, trying to calm down. The warmth of the morning now felt suffocating, as if the very air had turned against you. Barty’s presence had that effect- stealing the light, replacing it with a cold dread that settled deep in your bones.

In the kitchen, you set your wand down on the counter, your hand shaking slightly. You didn’t bother with tea or the pretense of normalcy. There was no use in trying to act like this was just another visit. He always saw through that.

The sound of his footsteps was deliberate, slow and measured as he entered the kitchen behind you. You didn’t need to turn to know he was watching you, that smug sense of control radiating from him like a dark cloud.

“You’re getting better at hiding,” Barty said casually, leaning against the doorframe as if he belonged there, as if he hadn’t just broken into your home and stolen another morning of peace. “I almost didn’t find you this time.”

You tightened your grip on the counter but didn’t respond. Any words you said now would only fan the flames.

“Still,” He continued, his voice calm but with an edge that made your skin crawl, “you should know better by now. There’s no point in running. Not from me.”

“What do you want, Crouch?” You snapped, your voice sharp but low, desperate to keep your daughter blissfully unaware in her room. Your jaw tightened as your heart raced, every muscle in your body screaming at you to act, to escape, but you knew better.

“Ouch,” Barty murmured, the word drawn out like a mockery of your tone. He gave a low, familiar chuckle that made your skin crawl. “No ‘hello’? No ‘it’s good to see you’? Have I fallen so far in your affections, my love?”

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you in a smooth stride. Your body stiffened as his hand slid over your arm, slow and deliberate, the other curling around your waist. Even as you resisted, he pulled you firmly back into his chest.

You felt his breath against your neck, warm and slow, the press of his nose grazing your skin as he inhaled deeply. “Still wearing that perfume I like,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, as though you were lovers reunited instead of prey cornered by a predator.

“Let go of me,” You hissed, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

He didn’t. Instead, he hummed softly, almost contentedly, as if he had all the time in the world. “You know,” He began, his voice silkier now, “I always miss this when you’re gone. The way you fit so perfectly here-” his hand pressed against your waist, possessive, “-like you were made for me.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch his cold, calculating eyes. “Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?” You shot back, forcing as much venom into your words as you could muster. “That this is love? That what you’ve done to me- to us- is anything but a twisted game now?”

Barty’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into your waist just enough to remind you of his strength. The smile on his lips faded, replaced by something darker, something far more dangerous.

“Careful,” He warned, his voice dropping to a whisper, a quiet menace laced in his tone. “You’re upset. I’ll forgive it this time, but don’t mistake my patience for weakness. I’ve come too far, sacrificed too much, to lose you now.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to stay still. Reacting would only make things worse. He thrived on control, on watching you squirm under the weight of his presence. You couldn’t give him that satisfaction- not now.

“What do you want?” You asked again, your voice calmer this time, though the ice in your tone was unmistakable.

He tilted his head, a flash of amusement returning to his features. “You. Her. Us. Isn’t that obvious by now?”

“There is no us, Barty,” You said through clenched teeth, daring to step out of his grasp. This time, he let you, though his gaze never left you, sharp and predatory.

“You keep saying that,” He mused, leaning casually against the counter as if he belonged there. Watching as you stayed a foot or so away. As if he was unsatisfied with the distance, he reached forward and pulled you back to him.. “And yet, here we are. You, me, and our perfect little girl.” His smile returned, sinister and self-assured. “I hate fighting with you. You know what?” He mumbled, pressing lazy kisses up from your neck to your cheek. With all your fight you couldn't bring yourself to attempt to push him away again.

Because despite everything, he was still the man you loved more then life sometimes. The only person you'd ever care more for now- was the very person tying you to him.

It was the same game every time. Barty would find you, tearing through the fragile walls of peace you’d built, leaving only fragments of the life you’d tried to carve out without him. He’d remind you of who he was- not just with his suffocating eyes or possessive touches, but with the way he’d command your space, your air, your very existence. He loved you the way a bonfire devours kindling, bright and all-consuming, but he swore you were the creatures he warmed by his flames.

In truth, Barty was a forest fire. Unrelenting, destructive, impossible to escape. He touched every tree but left none standing. He created a cage of danger, an inescapable labyrinth of fear and passion that kept you tethered to him. And you- trapped between wanting to run and wanting to stay- played right into his hands every time.

The moment you found a new place to call home, he would be there, clawing his way back into your life as if he had every right to. He’d paw at you like a man starved, eyes ravenous, hands desperate to feel every inch of you again. He’d spoil your daughter rotten, making her laugh and smile in ways that made you both grateful and bitter all at once. And then, when he’d gotten what he wanted, he’d leave.

Every time. He’d leave.

To fight a war against the very thing he swore to love.

And yet, it wasn’t the war that broke you. It was the time in between- the stolen mornings, the whispered promises, the moments where you allowed yourself to believe he could change.

Because between the fights, between the harsh hands and the soft touches, you would melt. You would dissolve into the girl you once were, blinded by the love you still harbored for the boy he used to be. The boy who worshipped you with a ferocity that made you feel invincible. The boy who told you he would destroy anyone who dared to harm you, even as he slowly became the very thing you feared.

And somehow, in the fleeting moments of quiet, you still loved him.

The realization burned like a curse, hotter and sharper than any spell. Because even now, as you stood in the kitchen with his shadow still lingering in on the counter you clung to- as he continued to trial his lazy kisses across your skin, your heart betrayed you. It clung to the memory of his laugh, his touch, the way he’d hold you like you were his whole world.

Your heart ached with a contradiction you couldn’t reconcile, the tangled knot of love and fear twisting tighter with every lazy kiss Barty trailed along your neck. His lips were soft, familiar, stirring a warmth you hated yourself for feeling. Even as your mind screamed at you to pull away, to fight, to remind him that he had no place here, your body betrayed you, frozen under the weight of his presence.

He whispered something, too low for you to hear, his breath brushing against your ear. It didn’t matter what he said; the words were always the same. Sweet nothings designed to make you forget the darkness he carried, the danger he brought into your life.

Your hands gripped the counter tighter, your knuckles white as you tried to ground yourself. But his voice, his touch, the intoxicating familiarity of him- it was suffocating.

“I miss this,” Barty murmured, his tone deceptively gentle as his hand slid from your waist to rest against your hip. “I miss you.”

You closed your eyes, willing the tears threatening to spill to stay where they were. He didn’t deserve them. Not anymore.

“You don’t get to say that,” You whispered, your voice trembling despite your efforts to keep it steady. “You don’t get to miss me, Barty. Not after everything you’ve done.”

He paused for a moment, his lips hovering just above your skin. “Everything I’ve done,” he repeated slowly, as if the words themselves amused him. “Everything I’ve done has been for you. For us. For that perfect little girl you gave me- thank you.” He breathed, low and condescending, even as you felt his lips curl into that familiar sweet smile. “Thank you for her.”

“Fuck you.” You hissed, tears finally slipping past your eyes. “You don't get to thank me. How dare you-”

"Momma? Daddy?"

The small voice cut through the tension like a spell, making both of you freeze. Your daughter stood in the doorway, clutching her stuffed owl, her eyes wide with curiosity and a touch of worry.

Barty turned first, his entire demeanor softening in an instant. The dangerous glint in his eyes disappeared, replaced by warmth and affection so convincing it made your stomach churn.

"Hey, princess," he cooed, crouching to her level. "What are you doing out here? Didn't I tell you to keep practicing your tea party skills?"

Ophelia tilted her head, looking between the two of you. "You were shouting," she said simply, her tiny voice laced with innocence. "Are you and Mommy mad?"

Your throat tightened, and you struggled to find the words, but Barty was faster.

"Of course not, darling," he said, his tone dripping with sweetness as he reached out to her. She took his hand without hesitation, allowing him to pull her closer. "Mommy and I were just talking about grown-up things. Boring, silly stuff, nothing to worry about."

You wanted to scream. To contradict him.

You hated it. How well he treated her, how much of a father he could be. You knew it had to be some form of healing for him, wanting to give his daughter the father he never had. But it didn’t make it any easier for you to watch. It didn’t make it easier to stomach how easily he could shift from the storm that haunted your nights to the warm, doting father who seemed so perfect in her eyes.

"Mommy?" Ophelia’s voice pulled you back to the present, her wide, curious eyes locked on yours. She had Barty’s eyes, that same piercing gaze that could see straight through you. It was both beautiful and heart breaking, knowing what those eyes had seen before they became hers.

You forced yourself to smile, though it felt as fragile as glass- quickly brushing away your tears in hopes she didn't see them. "No, sweetheart," You cooed, your voice soft but tight. "Mommy and Daddy aren’t mad. Daddy’s just being… silly, as usual."

She giggled, the sound like bells in the tense air. Barty gave her a conspiratorial wink, as if the two of them shared some secret that didn’t include you. It made your skin crawl but your heart throb all the same. This wasn't fair.

"See, angel? Everythings alright.” Barty scooped her up effortlessly, holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. His expression softened further, the love in his eyes so genuine it made your heart ache. “Mommy just worries too much sometimes,” He teased with a gentle laugh, brushing a stray curl out of Ophelia’s face. “But you don’t need to worry, do you? Daddy’s here to take care of everything.”

Ophelia rested her head against his shoulder, her small fingers clutching his collar. “Promise?” She asked softly, her innocent trust making your chest tighten.

“I promise,” He replied, his voice warm and soothing. His eyes flicked back to you, the unspoken challenge still lingering beneath his tenderness. “Daddy always keeps his promises, doesn’t he?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Instead, you swallowed the lump in your throat and turned away, busying yourself with the kettle on the counter. Anything to avoid the sight of them together, to ignore the knot of guilt and helplessness that twisted tighter in your chest with every word.

“Daddy,” Ophelia murmured, her voice muffled as she nuzzled into his neck. “Will you stay this time?”

Your breath hitched, your fingers trembling as you gripped the edge of the counter. You dared to glance over your shoulder, catching the way Barty’s expression softened further. For a fleeting moment, there was no malice in his eyes- only love, raw and unfiltered.

“For as long as I can, my little star,” He said softly, pressing a kiss to her hair.

She beamed at him, her giggles filling the room again as he twirled her around, the tension momentarily forgotten. But as you watched, the weight of reality settled heavily on your shoulders. This was the game he always played- pulling you in, wrapping you in the warmth of a family you desperately wanted to protect, only to remind you of how fragile it all was.

“Ophelia,” You called, your voice gentle and thick. “Are you hungry, baby?”

Ophelia perked up at the sound of your voice, turning her head just enough to look at you over Barty’s shoulder. “Yes, Mommy!” She chirped, her stuffed owl clutched tightly in one hand. “Can we have pancakes? The ones with the happy faces?”

You forced a smile, nodding as you stepped toward the pantry. “Of course, sweetheart. Go wash your hands first, okay? And don’t forget to set up your tea party things for later.”

She wriggled out of Barty’s arms with the unbridled energy only a child could have, her little feet padding across the floor as she darted out of the kitchen. Her laughter echoed down the hall, leaving a momentary warmth in its wake that quickly dissipated as you felt Barty’s gaze settle on you again.

You didn’t look at him. Instead, you busied yourself with gathering the ingredients for pancakes, focusing on the mundane task like it was the only thing tethering you to reality.

“She’s growing up so fast,” Barty murmured, his tone soft but pointed. “Every time I see her, she’s more like you. Stubborn, sharp, and so full of life.”

You bristled at his words but didn’t respond, your hands steady as you set a mixing bowl on the counter.

“But she has my eyes,” He continued, stepping closer, his voice lowering to that dangerous, familiar drawl. “Doesn’t she?”

You slammed the whisk down a little harder than intended, finally turning to face him. “What do you want, Barty?” you demanded a final time, your voice low and sharp. “You’ve played the loving father card. You’ve made your presence known. What’s next? What do you think this is going to accomplish?”

He tilted his head, studying you with that infuriating smirk that never quite reached his eyes. “Accomplish?” he echoed, as though the very word amused him. “Oh, love, this isn’t about accomplishing anything. This is about being where I belong. With my family.”

“This isn’t your family,” You shot back, the venom in your voice unmistakable. “You don’t get to waltz in and pretend you belong here, not after everything you’ve done.”

His expression darkened, the playful edge to his smirk hardening into something colder. Then, slowly, he smiled. That same boyish charming smile you always thought to be true. He stepped behind you, running his palms down your arms with a low sigh. “I really do hate fighting you, star.”

His hands slid down your arms, his touch deceptively gentle, but his grip firm enough to remind you of the power he held. You froze as Barty leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"I hate it," he murmured, his voice soft, yet laced with something darker. "I hate how stubborn you are, how you make me work so hard to remind you of what we have."

You gritted your teeth, refusing to look at him, to meet those piercing eyes that could always see straight through you. “What we had,” you corrected coldly, though your voice trembled.

He chuckled, a low sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “You can say that as much as you want,” he said, his fingers trailing down your sides to your waist, holding you in place. “But we both know it’s not true. We still have it. You feel it every time I’m near, don’t you? Just like I do.”

“Let go of me,” you whispered, your voice breaking under the weight of his presence. You hated how weak you sounded, how easily he unraveled you.

But Barty didn’t let go. Instead, he turned you to face him, his hands settling on your hips as his stormy eyes bore into yours. "You’ve given me the best gift, love,” he said, his tone softening as his gaze flicked toward the hallway where Ophelia had disappeared. “Her. You. You’re my everything. Both of you. And you know that.”

Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill as his words pierced through your defenses. “You don’t get to say that,” you choked out. “You don’t get to act like you’re some devoted father when you’re-” Your voice cracked, and you bit down hard on your lip, desperate to hold yourself together. “You’re the reason I had to run. The reason she’s in danger.”

“In danger?” Barty repeated, his voice sharp now, his hands tightening on your hips. “You think I’d ever let anything happen to either of you? Do you really believe I’d let anyone touch my family?”

“You’ve already put us in danger,” you shot back, your anger flaring despite the tears threatening to fall. “Your choices, your loyalty to him- you’ve made us targets, Barty. Don’t pretend you haven’t.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as he leaned in closer. “Everything I’ve done has been for you,” he said, his voice low and fierce. “For us. I took that mark to protect you. I fought for a place in his world so he wouldn’t touch you or her. Do you know what I’ve sacrificed to keep you safe?”

“You don’t get to use that as an excuse,” you hissed, tears streaming freely now. “You don’t get to justify everything you’ve done by pretending it was for me. You made your choices, Barty. You chose him over me. Over us.”

His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears even as his grip felt possessive, inescapable. “I chose you,” he insisted, his voice trembling with a rare vulnerability. “Every single time, I chose you. And I’d do it again, star. I’d do anything for you.”

“Then let me go,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Let me live my life. Let me protect her.”

“I can’t do that,” He said, shaking his head as his forehead pressed against yours. “You’re mine. Both of you. And I won’t let you take her- or yourself- away from me again.”

The weight of his words settled heavily in the space between you, suffocating and undeniable. You hated how your heart ached at the raw desperation in his voice, how a part of you wanted to believe him, to give in like you always did.

“You always do this,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “You make me forget how much I hate you.”

He smiled faintly, his lips brushing against your temple in a touch so tender it made your chest ache. “That’s because you don’t hate me, love. You never have. And you never will.”

You wanted to scream, to push him away, but your body betrayed you, leaning into his touch as your tears soaked into his shirt. “This isn’t fair,” you choked out, your voice muffled against him.

“No,” he agreed, his arms wrapping around you as if to shield you from the very chaos he’d brought into your life. “But I’ll make it right, star. I’ll prove to you that this is where you’re meant to be. Where we’re meant to be.”

And as much as you wanted to fight, as much as you wanted to push him away and reclaim the life you’d fought so hard to build, a part of you- the part that had always belonged to him- knew he was right.

Because no matter how far you ran, no matter how hard you fought, Barty Crouch Jr. would always find his way back to you.

And you would always let him in.

[rat-boy-thoghts]

Rosekiller girl dads

Barty that almost only wears black and is coved in bad tattoos that he did when he was to younger.

Evan that has dozens of piercings bleach blond hair and a scary demeanor.

And their 6 year old daughter that is coverd in glitter has pink hair, fairy wings and a big puffy skirt

[mushroom-enby]

Rosekiller girl dads this, rosekiller girl dads that

But how?

What if I say, rosekiller who become foster dads of a little boy who finally has the space to realize she's not a boy (once she finds out uncle Reggie was raised a girl) & end up having a trans daughter because they adopt her once they realize her biological parents would kill her for it :(

Rosekiller girl dads with lore

[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!"

[dyl-z]

Town troublemaker Barty Crouch Jr. went from an irritating pre-teen to a teenage dirtbag to a reasonably chaotic adult.

At twelve he's eligible to skip a grade but his behavior is so bad no teacher lets him and it pisses his dad off.

At fourteen he gives himself a stick-and-poke tattoo in a stranger's basement while his dad thinks he's studying at a friend's house.

At fifteen he loses his virginity to a random girl from his pre-calc class in his dad's car. He's not old enough to drive and gets pulled over by the police. His dad locks up his bedroom window after that. Barty learns to pick locks at fifteen.

At sixteen, he gets high in Walmart parking lots with people he doesn't even know twice a week. No one knows who he gets it from and rumors are circling that he grows it himself, when in reality he gets it from his friend whose dad has a prescription.

At eighteen he has twenty tattoos, all done by either himself or a random stranger at a party. He's never at home, always crashing on the couch of a friend of a friend. He could go to any college he wants, but he wants to just be left alone.

At twenty he moves out of his hometown and never looks back. He doesn't pack, just buys a shitty car and drives until it breaks down. He uses the leftover money he has to put a deposit down on a shitty studio apartment.

At twenty-one he gets a job at the local bar and meets Regulus Black, who then introduces him to Evan Rosier.

At twenty-two he has a best friend and a boyfriend. He still gets tattoos in basements but this time they're courtesy of his friends who need someone to practice on for their apprenticeships. He still parties and crashes on couches but he knows the brand of the alcohol he's drinking and the couch has been made up just for him.

His life is average, but it's better than it ever has been.

[bartyliciousss]

the skittles btw (evan, barty, reggie, and pandora in that order) ☠︎︎⛓✮⚘

[z-eel]

ok but I need you to fucking hear me rn...

Barty works at this little cafe just off the school campus because he needs to pay for school now that he's pissed off his dad.

besties Regulus and Sirius are saying they can pay for his schooling, but Barty wants to be independent or whatever.

so Barty sees a lot of people, and they ask for a lot of stupid, complicated drinks , which he technically can't make because it's a small cafe but whatever, pissing off customer is part of the fun.

then in comes this little girl in pink shirt smugged with paint, a large purple princess skirt and butterfly wings on her back. she was absolutely the cutest thing he had seen, but what really had him staring was the guy that was holding on to her hand.

they were clearly releated, little sister, daughter, niece, any of those titles could fit, but the only thing Barty cared about was finding out weather or not the guy was single, because if he wasn't he would have to come up with a game plan to make him single.

but then he's asking for one of those complicated drinks. something about strawberries and unicorns, and Barty is just standing there crying internally because, for a moment, this man is perfect.

and then he turns to the girl and tells her to pick out a seat with a smile and he melts for second. and when the girl gone he truns back to Barty and tells him to just give him strawberry milk with chopped strawberries at the bottom and whipped cream on top with strawberry syrup and a couple of sprinkles.

and sure it wasn't as complicated as the original order and he pretty sure he can't give him that many strawberries, but apparently it was the girls birthday and the last coffee shop ran out of strawberries.

how the fuck was Barty going to say no?

Barty being soft for Evan and Luna is everything to me you do not even understand. girls dad's before they even have kids together ahhhhhh! (i am most definitely writing more on this ☆)

[yourgalgremlin]

“Tell me about your fav Marauders character”

Marauders fandom:

[blorger]

One thing I noticed only recently is the way Percy calls his father and how it's an indication of his storyline's progress throughout the books. Percy's whole character arc is about how he's doing ambition wrong; there's this undercurrent of judgement towards Percy's desire to be an accomplished professional and i think his language reflects that.

Percy has had a very formal way of speaking since the very first book, it's one of the main indicators that we're supposed to read him as a pompous party pooper, but we don't see him address his father until book 3, when jkr starts setting up the ministry plot:

(from PoA: Percy enjoys the treatment Arthur is getting from the ministry, foreshadowing his interest in climbing up the ministerial ladder)

I find the use of the word "Father" interesting: the most notable person we see use the term in the books is Draco, who is very much posh-coded.

(from PS, one of the very first things we come to know about Draco is how he addresses his father: this is a scene from Harry and Draco's first meeting)

A not insignificant facet of Draco's personality comes from how his elevated status in society has shaped him to be arrogant and dismissive of other people. Draco speaks like a Fancy Boy, with his "Father"s (always capitalised) and his insistence on calling most people (even his friends and housemates) by their last name.

Seeing Percy start to use the type of language we've been accustomed to see from posh boy extraordinaire Draco is jarring, and it primes us to start disliking him. As Percy's brief foray into the Evil side begins (basically From GoF onwards) Percy starts ramping up in his use of "Father":

and

and

but at the culmination of his story arc, when Percy is reunited with his family during the battle of Hogwarts, Percy switches to "dad":

This, again, mirrors Draco in that he also changes the way he addresses his father when he's at his most emotional

and I find this very interesting.

[crescenthistory]

i love the concept of barty being a single dad to a baby girl who is the polar opposite of him and absolutely nailing it. like everything in his life is messy but that’s his princess and he will not fuck up. he wears all black, has dyed green streaks in his hair, is covered in tattoos (most of which are bad stick and pokes), has some unconventional job — and then his little girl is obsessed with pink, insists on wearing princess dresses every day (he lets her), is polite to everyone and everything, and picks flowers for him every day (he presses them). and they’re just the perfect duo to fall in love with, ready to take on the world.

this is me saying i might need to write some blurbs about this 😔💔🫶

here is the first fic of barty and his polar opposite daughter <3

[managone16]

Evan and Barty in the kitchen they share with Regulus: Evan: You cunt, come back here. Barty: Catch me, bitch. Evan, grabbing a knife: Bartemius Crouch if you don't hand me my b- Barty: I said, COME AND CATCH M- *eyes the knife* Evan, smiling evilly: Scared, B? Barty: *hoarse voice, blushing* I-uh yeah um- Evan, suddenly serious: B? You g- Barty: Kiss me please. Oh salazar kiss me. Kiss me Ros- *grabs him and kisses him* Evan, kissing back: Mmph-B-mm Barty: Shut up. Kiss. Me.

[ethan-torchios-bitch]

trans peter not telling anyone he’s trans but telling barty and evan bc he needs to get something off his chest like how he got his tits off

[venus-sqturn]

headcanon that whenever jegulus goes out on a date, they have barty and evan watch harry.

but harry is a VERY complicated kid. when i say complicated i dont mean he cries every two seconds, no. he wants things done in a VERYYY cleancut manner. his apples have to be cut up into cute shapes, he has a tea party and the dress code is very strict, whenever he watches cartoons he has to have a snack beside him. (if he isn’t what he likes, he won’t eat it.)

hes a nice kid, just likes things in a specific way. all hell breaks loose when they give him FROZEN waffle fries for a snack instead of the ones from the diner across the street.

[uramakimochi]

BABYSITTING TIME

Wolfstar x daughter!Reader

(But it's mostly uncle Regulus and uncle Barty here sorry)

- yes i know there's David Tennant but i'm in love with the fancasts leave me alone (you can imagine whoever you want though) -

WARNINGS: nothing just fluff, FEM!R but no use of Y/n, Regulus and Barty babysitting Wolfstar daughter, Barty being Barty but we love him for it. This is sort of connected to this post but it can also be considered as a single piece.

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

Regulus and Barty were sitting on the living room couch, while you sat at their feet on the carpet, playing with your toys. Until you suddenly raised your head to look at them.

"Uncle Reggie, Uncle Barty?"

"Yes, my dear?" Regulus asked, leaning forward slightly.

"Can i ask you a question?" you said, looking at them with your big bright eyes.

"You just did, little viper" Barty replied.

Regulus turned to glare at him and slapped him on the arm, but the other smiled amusedly, knowing that this response would make the little girl giggle. In fact, you laughed, shaking your little head shyly and hiding your face behind your rag doll.

"No Uncle Barty, that wasn't the question"

Regulus ignored the arrogant look of Barty next to him, who was looking at him with an expression that seemed to say "What did i tell you?" and looked back at his (only) favorite niece.

"What did you want to ask us, amour?"

You stood up on your little legs and reached Regulus', climbing on top of him and sitting on his lap. He welcomed you without any problems and clasped his hands behind your back to prevent you from falling backwards.

"How are babies born?"

Regulus stiffened and felt his heart skip a beat. Okay, that wasn't the kind of question he was expecting at all. Barty, grinned even more mischievously, now curious to know what his friend would've answered.

"Why are you asking this, darling? Aren't you a little too young to be asking these questions?" Regulus replied skillfully, trying not to let his embarrassment show.

But you shrugged, continuing to stare intently into his eyes for an answer, not seeing where the problem was. And the more Regulus looked at you the more it seemed like his forehead was starting to sweat. He really had no idea what to say to you. But then he opted for the easiest answer.

"You have to ask your fathers these things, chérie"

"But i want to know now!" you replied impatiently, rocking back and forth. "How were you born Uncle Reggie?"

When you leaned towards him to grip his shirt in your fists, Regulus didn't hold back from letting out a small sigh. You were a sweet little girl like Remus, but even though you weren't their biological daughter, you still inherited some of Sirius' stubbornness somehow. Regulus knew that the matter would not be over until you received an answer.

"Alright" he murmured, giving you a small, uncertain smile and you focused all your attention on him, more intrigued than ever. "Listen sweetheart, when two people love each other and want to have a child... Um, they-"

"They do a thing called se-"

Barty nearly screamed in pain when Regulus' palm left your back to slap over his mouth, stopping him just in time from what he was about to say. Barty turned to glare at him, but what he saw was only a murderous glare from Regulus. The two exchanged a mental conversation, while you looked at them in confusion, alternating your eyes from one to the other.

"Uncle Reggie?"

Regulus turned to look at you, smiling innocently again, as if nothing had happened.

"It's the stork, chérie" he said soothingly, still clamping his hand over Barty's mouth. "The stork brings babies to the homes of parents who want a child"

Your eyes widened.

"Like the owls that bring us letters??"

"Exactly" Regulus nodded and Barty rolled his eyes. "Your dad and daddy asked the stork for a baby girl and the stork brought you here to them. And your grandparents did the same thing with Remus, Sirius and me. And also James and Lily with Harry"

"Ooh! That's so cool!"

Regulus chuckled when he saw your surprise at having learned something new. And he felt very satisfied with having succeeded in his job, unlike that idiot of Barty. And speaking of Barty...

"Sweetheart, i have to talk to Uncle Barty about something important" Regulus said and you nodded understandingly. "Why don't you go into the kitchen and have a glass of juice? Then i'll make you something to eat, sounds good?"

You nodded frantically, not wanting to miss the opportunity to drink anything other than water before dinner.

"Thanks Uncle Reggie~" you said with a big smile, leaning towards him to leave a loud smooch on his cheek, making his heart beat a little faster in tenderness.

Then you got off his lap and ran to the kitchen and as he saw you disappear around the corner, Regulus' smile fell in a split second and he turned to look at Barty again, finally removing his hand from his mouth.

"Aah, about time!" Barty took a deep breath, then rubbed his cheek with his hand. "Did you want to suffocate me or something?"

Regulus glared at him even more evilly than before.

"Were you really going to talk to my niece about sex?! Are you out of your goddamn mind??!"

Barty shrugged, leaning back on the couch cushion. "It's not like she can understand anything about it, she's a child. How old is she, like 4, 5?"

"She's almost 7, you idiot!" Regulus retorted through gritted teeth, then lowered his voice again, not wanting to be heard by you. "And it doesn't matter if she doesn't understand anything, because at this age she tells his parents all the new things she learns! Remus would kill you. And Sirius would kill me because i didn't stop you!"

"You're all too sensitive" Barty muttered, waving a hand. "As soon as my little viper discovers the world of adults, she won't want to talk to any of you about it but she'll run to Uncle Barty, because she knows that i'm the only one who can tell her everything there is to know. Just wait"

This time it was Regulus's turn to roll his eyes with a sigh. You were still too innocent in his and your fathers' eyes, he just hoped that the time you would become an adult would never come.

"Uncle Reggie!"

Both Rugulus and Barty heard your voice coming from the kitchen.

"Could you get me the juice, please? Dad put it on the top shelf and i can't reach it!"

"I'll be right there chérie!" Regulus exclaimed, then shot one last glare at Barty, pointing a finger at him. "Not. A. Word"

Barty raised his hands in surrender with a smirk and Regulus rose from the couch, followed by him. The two joined you in the kitchen and while you sat down at the table, Regulus took the bottle of fruit juice from the cupboard, then poured it into your glass and handed it to you.

"Uncle Barty" you called, placing the glass on the table and looking at your other uncle, who was standing leaning against the countertop with his arms crossed. "What were you about to say before Uncle Reggie put his hand over your mouth?"

Barty smiled amusedly and passed from your pure eyes to Regulus' ones, who was looking at him sternly from behind you.

"Nothing, little viper" he replied simply. "These are things you'll know when you're older"

You huffed and crossed your arms, making him chuckle.

"Ooh ugh"

The following morning, while Barty was lying on the sofa in his house, busy doing precisely nothing, suddenly the fireplace in the living room caught fire and the figure of Sirius emerged from the green flames.

"BARTEMIUS CROUCH JUNIOR HAVE YOU TRIED TO TALK TO MY DAUGHTER ABOUT SEX?! I SWEAR I'LL BITE ALL YOUR HORRIBLE TATTOOS OFF YOUR BODY COME HERE YOU FUCKER"

Barty had no time to realize the situation before Sirius became Padfoot and began chasing him, barking loudly. Barty screamed in fear and jumped over the sofa to escape Sirius' fangs.

A few seconds later, Remus also appeared in the living room, with your body lifted in his arms. He also had a furious look on his face, but he tried to keep himself from saying profanity for your sake. And then, his husband was already taking care of Barty.

"I want to play too!" you suddenly exclaimed, watching your father and your uncle run around and not understanding that in reality that wasn't a game for them at all.

And while Barty was running around the living room, chased by Sirius, you got out of Remus' arms to run after Padfoot, in a continuous circle.

Remus ran a hand over his face in exasperation. Now he understood Regulus.

[dyl-z]

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