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resident-gay-bitch · 7 months

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Regulus’ heart breaks as he stands there, just behind the willow tree, watching James and Sirius roll around on the grass, play fighting in their own little world.

Of course he left him. Of course James would pick Sirius over Regulus, wouldn’t everyone? Regulus has never been picked first. Not once.

Not by his parents, who ignored him throughout his entire childhood to focus on framing Sirius as the perfect son and heir.

Not by Sirius, who ran away, picking James to be his brother and not bothering to ask Regulus to tag along.

Not in team games, where students would pick through the class one by one, and Regulus would be one of the last few standing.

Not by his friends, who all would chose their partners, or the other people in the group first. He joined last, it’s only fair.

Not even by the lizard who inhabits his dorm room, who picks the three other boys to crawl over to first, every time.

And certainly not by James.

He thought, for once, the cycle might be broken. He thought, for once, someone would pick him first. He’d get chosen over someone else, just once.

He should have known better.

He should have known that the moment Sirius found out about he and James sneaking around in dark corridors and whispering sweet words to each other, James would have to pick.

He was foolish to think James would pick him over Sirius. He was foolish to think that James would pick him over anyone.

And as Lily, with her fiery red hair pulled back into braids, comes marching over to the boys, snatching James up by his collar and earning herself a cheek kiss, Regulus realises he should have seen that coming too.

Not even two weeks has passed since Regulus placed second to his brother, as he does in fucking everything, and James has already moved on.

Regulus would never be anyone’s first choice, he should have known better.

He knows better now.

It’s not until three months later that Regulus finally shatters from it. The crushing weight of never being enough, never being someone’s first choice.

It’s Slytherin against Ravenclaw for the quidditch cup, and there in the crowd, he spots his brother and James.

They’re decked out in silver and blue, and they don’t look at Regulus, not even once.

Barty finds him in the showers, once the entire teams cleared out. He’s dressed in a confusing mix of blue and green, for his own house and his friends.

Hes crying. Regulus doesn’t think he’s ever cried this hard before. The water is pouring down over his head, and he’s still fully dressed in his uniform.

Slytherin lost. He lost them the match, because he was more focused on trying to catch James or Sirius looking his way just once than getting the snitch. They didn’t, and he lost.

Barty clearly doesn’t know how to handle this. The lowest he’s ever seen Regulus would have been prior to an exam he stressed himself out about. Besides, Barty has always been a little awkward when handling emotions.

Regulus tries to tell him to leave him be, he really does. But his words get all chocked up in his throat and he can’t get out much more than a wail or a sob. It fucking hurts.

“What’s the matter, Black?” Barty asks, switching the water off before crouching down in front of him, “What’s got your knickers in a twist, hey?”

“I-I’ll never be… good enough.” Regulus confesses. He’s never said it out loud before. He’s not a vulnerable person, he doesn’t do this. He knows better than to let out his sob story to someone, they can hold it over him one day. But he can’t help himself, he finds. He needs to get it off his chest before it rips him open, “I’ll never… b-be enough.”

Barty’s silent for a while, clearly unsure of what to say. It only makes Regulus sob more. He pulls his knees up to his chest and hides his head in his hand, and he fucking cries. He’s sure if anyone’s still out side, they’d hear it, but Barty locked the door when he came in. At least that’s something.

“I can never be enough.” Regulus sobs again, and this time Barty kicks into action.

He’s still awkward about it, Regulus can tell, he probably has better things to do than listen to Regulus cry as well, which only makes this worse. He pushes Regulus’ sopping hair out of his face and pats his face dry with the end of his Slytherin scarf before hauling them both to their feet.

“Who told ya that?” Barty asks, pulling his wand out to try his hand at a drying spell. It mostly works, so Regulus can’t complain.

“I don’t have to be told something to know it, Barty.” Regulus sniffles, wiping his eyes. They sting, and he knows he looks terrible, but there’s no use in worrying about that now.

“Well… I think, if you haven’t been told, it can’t be true.” Barty shrugs, tucking his wand back in his pocket.

“Fine.” Regulus nods, “My entire fucking family has told me then, on several occasions.”

“Oh.” Barty stills, and he has a look on his face of utter confusion.

Regulus shakes his head and goes to walk for the door, but he winces when he puts pressure on his ankle. He fell on it weirdly, midway through the match when he was knocked off his broom. It didn’t bother him before, but it does now.

“You hurt?” Barty asks, and Regulus nods.

Silently, Barty reaches out and wraps his arm around Regulus’ waist. He flinches at first, startled by the slightly intimate touch, but then Barty pulls Regulus to shift his weight, and he relaxes into it a little. Together, they walk back across the field, Barty carrying Regulus’ broom, and half of Regulus’ weight, and make their way back to the castle.

It’s oddly silent.

It’s always quiet, between them. Regulus isn’t much of a talker, and when Barty runs out of stupid things to say he goes quiet and people watches. He usually watches Regulus, since they’re always together, something that took a while to get used to. Barty really likes to watch Regulus read, it makes him a little self conscious of any strange expressions he might be making.

But it’s a strange sort of quiet now. It’s silent. Regulus isn’t talking, not because he doesn’t want to, but because he feels ashamed for breaking down like that. He doesn’t just break down. Men don’t fucking break down. Especially not in front of people like that. He feels embarrassed that Barty found him.

Well, he’s grateful it was Barty over anyone else, seeing as though they’re supposed to be close friends, Merlin forbid Sirius found him. But it’s still uncomfortable.

The only friend any of them have that likes to talk about feelings is Pandora. Regulus assumed this was because she was a girl, at first, however, Dorcas doesn’t like talking about them either. Pandoras just strange like that, she cares about people in odd ways. Sometimes it’s nice, but mostly it’s terrifying.

Barty looks like he wants to talk. He also looks like he wants to watch Regulus, but every time he turns his head to do so he probably sees the red rimming of Regulus’ eyes and finds something much uglier than usual. It only makes Regulus feel all the more ashamed.

Barty starts whistling. It’s not his regular noise filling whistles either, it’s his uncomfortable whistling. He doesn’t want to be here, Regulus can tell. Merlin, he needs to get away.

“Going back to your dorm?” Barty asks as they round a corridor in the castle.

Regulus nods, “Is Evan-“

“He’s there.” Barty says, “Cas too… dunno about Dora, she’s always off with the fairies. If she’s not hugging Dorcas about their loss then I dunno where she is.”

Regulus goes tense, “I don’t want them to see me.”

Barty stops and swallows, “Okay… how about my dorm then? My roommates are all down by the lake. They snagged some firewhisky.”

“Okay.” Regulus agrees, because he has no where else to go.

Once settled in Barty’s dorm, Regulus changes into more comfortable clothes. Plaid pyjama pants and a green knitted sweater he knows is his own that went “missing” last year. He doesn’t question it, Barty’s strange like that. He likes to collect things, and especially Regulus’ things.

They’re both sitting on his bed, Regulus tucked up under the covers and Barty sitting on the other end. He’s flipping through one of his dorm mates magazines and whistling to himself, his regular whistling again. It calms Regulus a bit.

Lying there, stuck with his own thoughts, he can’t hide from the images that pop into his mind every time he closes his eyes. All of Sirius and James, all of them examples where Regulus placed last.

There’s so many it’s hard to filter out which ones are new and which ones are old.

They all hurt just the same.

“Whatcha crying about now?” Barty asks, looking over at Regulus. He didn’t even realise he was crying again, but he is. “Did I do something wrong? I’ll fix it, whatever. Get ya whatever you need, promise.”

“You didn’t do anything.” Regulus sniffles, rolling onto his back to look up at the ceiling. Barty’s stuck posters up there, muggle ones of girls on motorcycles and punk bands, just to piss off his dad. “I’m just…”

“Go on.” Barty asks, sitting up now, cross legged and attentive. “There’s no one here, just me. Promise I’ll never tell.”

Regulus sighs and fiddles with his fingers, “I don’t need your pity, Barty. I’ve survived this long, I can survive some more.”

“Yeah, but you’re crying.” He says, and Regulus glares at him. “What? I ain’t seen you cry before, it’s weird. I know it’s really gotta be botherin ya if you’re crying like this. What would Dora say?”

“She’d probably try to hug me and make me cry more.” Regulus offers.

“Do you want… me to- uhm, hug you?”

“No.” Regulus glares at him. “I don’t want your pity, I said.”

“It’s not my pity, Regulus!” Barty splutters, “It’s a bloody hug. Dora says there really good for ya! I love her hugs, you know. Get ‘em all the time. I- I know I’m no Pandora but… I mean, I can offer ya a real bony one.”

Regulus snickers and looks back up at the roof, “No thanks. That’s weird.”

“Is it?” Barty asks, “Cause… cause I’ve been listening to what she’s sayin and… I think it would be nice.”

“If I hugged you right now?” Regulus raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah… and other times.” Barty shrugged, “I dunno, might be dumb but… we’re supposed to be friends, ya know? Friends hug. Cas hates ‘em, unless they’re from Dora, but Evan and I hug sometimes.”

“You’re being weird.”

“I’m not trying to.” Barty frowned, “I just… I care about you, I suppose.”

Regulus swallowed. The only person who’s said that before has been Pandora, but she cares about everyone.

Barty… well, he doesn’t care about much at all. He cares about so little, that Regulus thought the only thing he probably cared about was pissing off his dad and Pandora herself. But apparently that’s not true.

Regulus doesn’t want to believe it. He doesn’t want to hurt himself by believing that he could be one of the very few things Barty has come to care about.

But they’re friends, and Barty watches him a lot, and collects Regulus’ things, and helps him when he cries, and offers to hug him.

Now Regulus is crying for a whole other reason.

“One hug?” Barty offers, sticking out his arms, “I’ll make it so quick and if you hate it we don’t ever have to do it again.”

Regulus contemplates it. He doesn’t remember the last time he was hugged.

He knows the last good one was Pandora, maybe last year, when they were leaving for summer. Quick and carefree. The last bad one, that was James. Not that it was bad at the time, but it hurts to think about now. It was false stability and ended in heartbreak. The last time he was hugged to be soothed though? His mind takes him back to Sirius, when they were still little.

“Fine.” Regulus mutters, sitting up under the covers, “But make it quick.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Barty nods and moves in, “Sorry if I’m uncomfortable.”

Regulus nods and sits very still as Barty wraps himself around Regulus’ shoulders. It’s awkward, to say the least. They’ve never done this before, and they’re going about it very strangely.

“Reg… you gotta relax a bit.”

“How am I supposed to relax when I have a boney man attached to me?”

Barty scoffs and squeezes him a little tighter, “Just put your head on my shoulder, orrite. Relax, just for a second.”

Regulus huffs but does it anyway. He leans his head over to rest on Barty’ shoulder and drops his own, and… oh, it’s nice. It’s actually really, really nice. Barty’s soothing his back, and twisting his finger around the end of Regulus’ hair. And it’s nice.

He can’t even feel Barty’s ribs poking him or anything. It’s really, really cosy.

Regulus pushes him away, wiping his tears.

Barty gives him a guilty smile, “Terrible?”

“No.” Regulus sniffles, “It was actually grossly nice.”

Barty snickers and nods his head, “Well, if you ever need another hug, I’ll give ya as many as ya kneed.”

“Thanks.”

“No problems, Black.”

Regulus fiddles with the ends of his sleeve, refusing to look up at Barty, who he knows is sitting there and staring. He’s so quiet, when he stares. It’s as if any noise Barty makes would ruin his ability to set his full attention solely on Regulus.

It’s so strange. He’s so strange.

“You can’t tell anyone.” Regulus mumbles.

“What, that we hugged?” Barty laughs.

“No.” He scoffs, “What I said before, wanker. In the showers.”

“Oh.” Barty nods, “Well, I wasn’t gonna anyway. Course not, Reg. I know you. I know you hate people knowing your business.”

Regulus nods, “You really wouldn’t have told anyone? Not even Dora?”

“Cross my heart.” Barty smiles, doing just that, “I know she’s my best friend, but you are too. It means something, you know?”

“Oh.” Regulus mumbles.

Barty can only laugh at him, and Regulus turns a little pink.

“Can I… no, don’t worry about it.”

“No, go on.” Barty offers, “It’s just you and me.”

Regulus sighs, “I just… I’m tired of not being good enough, Barty.”

“I dunno what you mean, Black. You’re bloody brilliant.” Barty says, flopping down on his back like a starfish, “You shoulda been in Ravenclaw with your smarts, and not to mention your skills as a seeker. You’re top of the class, Reggie, course you’re good enough.”

Regulus thinks Barty will never understand how much that singular sentence fucking means to him, even if he tries to explain it. It stings, how good it feels to hear it. He never has. Not once.

“Not just in school, Barty. Everywhere else.” Regulus mumbles, wiping his teary eyes. They’re stinging again, and he really doesn’t want to cry, but he knows he will. It’s so stupid. “Everything else. I’m just…”

Barty rolls onto his side, propping his head up on his elbow to look at Regulus, “Like, with your family?”

Regulus nods, chewing on a hangnail.

“Yeah, I get that.” Barty sighs, “Is this about… those who must not be named?”

Regulus closes his eyes to compose himself, and nods again.

“Right.” Barty says, “Did Sirius do something? You know he barked at me the other day, like a fucking dog. So I’ll go hex him, happily, if you want?”

“No, Barty. Don’t.” Regulus shook his head, “He didn’t… I… they both just…”

“Go on.” Barty said softly, softer than Regulus has ever heard him speak before as he slowly sits up to get level with him.

“I’ll always be second best.” Regulus mutters, and then he starts crying again. Hot tears down his cheeks, redness in his eyes, stuttering over himself as he shakes.

“Oh, Reg…”

“He- he just picked James, over his own blood brother. Every time it’s James and… and I… and James just… I loved him. I loved him Barty, I was in love with him. I think part of me still is, but… he, he picked Sirius too. He picked Sirius, and Lily, because she’s just… she’s so pretty, and smart, and she’s got everything that I’ve got but, she’s just… she’s just so much better.” Regulus heaved, pressing a hand to his chest, “Everywhere, I see it everywhere. Not just with them, but mostly, I- I’ll never… I’ve never been someone’s first choice, Barty. Ever. And I don’t think I ever will be. No one picks me just because they can.”

His shoulders shake as he cries, his breath short and stuttered. When Barty reaches out in offer for another hug, Regulus falls forward into his arms, head pressed against his friends chest.

It feels so safe there, to be cradled in Barty’s arms, it’s warm. He cries a puddle through his sweater, but Barty doesn’t seem to mind.

“Shh, Reggie.” Barry sooths, lightly scratching his nails over Regulus’ back and sifting his fingers through his hair. “Just breathe, love. Just breathe.”

Regulus follows his command, taking deep breaths and timing them with the rise and fall of Barty’s chest beneath his head. He relaxes there, letting his eyes fall shut, and Barty continues to rub his back and play with his hair.

“I’m so tired.” Regulus mumbles through the last of his tears, “I’m going to fall asleep if you keep doing that.”

“That’s okay.” Barty laughs softly, “How about we lie down?”

“Isn’t that weird?” Regulus asks.

“Isn’t everything I do weird?”

Regulus shrugs and follows when Barty pulls him down to lay against the pillows. Barty slips under the covers with him, and pulls Regulus’ head against his chest again. Bartys heart is beating faster than it should be, but Regulus ignores it and wiggles around until he’s comfortable.

Once again, Barty strokes his back and scratches his scalp, and folds himself into Regulus a little.

He presses a little kiss to the top of Regulus’ head, and his heartbeat speeds up rapidly.

Regulus tenses, “Why is your heart beating like that, Barty? Are you okay? Did I make you uncomfortable?” He questions, already coming up with a million terrible reasons for it. He’s been so stupidly selfish about his own problems he didn’t even notice how uncomfortable he’s made his supposed best friend.

“No…” Barty half follows as Regulus sits up, leaning back on his elbows, “No, Reg. Obviously not.”

Regulus’ shoulders relax a little, “Well, then what is it?”

Barty looks away, “Come on, don’t tease, Reggie. I’m not in the mood.”

“I’m not teasing.” He shakes his head, “What’s the problem?”

“There’s no problem, obviously.” Barty snickers, “Come on, we can just… we can forget about it by tomorrow if it’s weird.

“What’s weird, Crouch?” Regulus pressed, “I don’t understand.”

Barty looked at him for a moment, eyebrows drawn together in the middle, and his mouth slowly fell open, “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” Regulus asked.

“About me…”

“About you… what?” Regulus shook his head.

“About…” Barty sighed, shaking his head in delirium. He laughed, at himself, mostly, which only confused Regulus more, “Everyone said it was obvious. I just thought we both… I thought we had an understanding. That we’d both ignore it and go on with our lives.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Barty?” Regulus asked, shoving at his chest.

“Oi!” Barty snickered, “That I… well… I thought you knew you’d be my first choice for everything.”

Regulus froze, scowling at him for a moment, “Don’t tease-“

“Not teasing, Reggie.” Barty looked away, taking a short breath. “Look, if it’s… if it’s too weird, I get it. But, I’m okay pretending, if you want.”

“P-pretending?” Regulus whispered.

“Yeah.” He shrugged, sitting up and loosely hugging his knees, “Pretending I’m not in love with you.”

Regulus didn’t have an answer for that. He was truely wound speechless. Barty… loves him?

“I meant it… I’d pick- I’d pick you over everything else in this world. I really mean it, Reggie. I promise.” Barty mumbled, “You’re my first pick, always have been.”

Regulus’ heart stops in his chest for a moment. His throat hurts and his eyes sting again. Regulus doesn’t think he’s cried as much as he has today through his entire life, including when he was a baby.

He can’t help it, crying again. Because Regulus believes him. Barty’s always been devastatingly honest, even at the worst of times. So why would he lie about this? And he looks so earnest, sounds it too. He sounds like he really, truely means it.

No ones ever picked Regulus first, besides Barty Crouch Jr, who has a collection of Regulus’ things, and who stares at him unashamedly, and consoles Regulus when he cries even if it makes him uncomfortable.

And Regulus has been too self centred to ever notice.

But Barty is in love with him, and by the sounds of it he has been for a while. Apparently everyone knows it.

He thinks about it for a moment, while he sobs and cries and heaves. Barty does all that he can to soothe him, reaching out to wipe away tears, and hold him, and rub his arms and back.

Regulus doesn’t think he’s ever felt as safe as he doesn’t when he’s around Barty. Which is an odd thing to realise, because Barty is kind of a loose cannon. He’s violent, and angry, and snarky and rude. But with Regulus he’s always… well, he’s funny, and he can still be a little rude sometimes, but he’s also kind and generous and a little odd.

Regulus now realises all that oddness he’s noticed is just things Barty does that signals he’s in love with him. But Regulus has never noticed, he’s never looked to see how Barty doesn’t do all these very things with other people.

He’s Barty’s first choice.

And now that he thinks of it, Barty might just be his.

He’s the only person Regulus trusts to see him like this. Not even Pandora could, as much as he loves her. Regulus just hates being vulnerable. But he supposed it’s a little different with Barty, because he’s always been a little vulnerable with Regulus.

It’s comforting, to say the least, to have confirmation that he’s wanted. That he’s cared for. That he’s somebodies first choice.

And Barty loves him, which is strange. He’s never looked at Barty in that way before. And sure, Barty makes plenty of jokes about finding Regulus fit and wanting to snog him and so on and so forth, but he’s never thought too deeply about it.

He does that with other people, doesn’t he?

Now that Regulus thinks about it, he definitely doesn’t do it as much as he does it to Regulus.

Barty pulls away, rubbing up and down Regulus’ biceps, as he gives a nervous smile. It’s crooked, like most of Barty’s smiles, but this time Regulus really notices it.

“I’m sorry if it’s weird, I dunno what to do, Reggie.” Barty tries, “How do I stop you crying?”

Regulus sniffled and blinked his tears away slowly, refusing to cry anymore. His cheeks are all wet and sticky, and his eyes fucking ache, as well as his throat, but he’s not thinking about that.

“Do you really mean that?” Regulus sniffles, and he blinks away a few more tears, “Me being your first choice?”

“Of course, why would I lie about that, Reg. It clearly means a lot to you- I just… I thought you knew.”

Regulus scrunches up his nose, “Well, why would I cry about how I’m no one’s first choice if I knew I was yours?”

Barty’s quiet for a moment. He retracts his hands and ducks his head to mumble, “I just thought… well I thought I didn’t really matter, at the end of it all.” He shrugged, “I’d do anything for you- I already have, you know, and… I just… I thought you knew. And I thought it didn’t matter to you because… well, I’m the same, I suppose. I don’t think anyone’s picked me first either.”

“You still… even thinking that I just- I just didn’t care about you, or your feelings or… or anything at all, you still…” Regulus scrunched up his nose, ducking his head to catch Barty’s eye, “You still would have picked me first?”

Barty nodded, “Done anything for you.”

“Oh.” Regulus whispered, shaking his head, “Barty…”

“Yeah?” Barty asked, swallowing a large lump in his throat.

Regulus kisses him. No thoughts, no warnings, no nothing at all. He just leans forward and kisses him right on the mouth.

Barty pulls away first, almost immediately, wide eyed and startled, “What the fuck did you do that for?”

“I don’t know.” Regulus muttered, touching his lips, “You just… I… you love me, and… fuck, Barty. You’re my best friend.”

“Yeah.” Barty nodded, there’s water in his eyes now, and Regulus can tell he’s trying to hold it back, “And you just kissed me. Please don’t- don’t do that. I’m… I can’t handle that, Reg. I can handle us being friends, even though it’s driving me mad, but… I just- I can’t-“

“Well, don’t you want to be more?”

“Fucking hell, Regulus.” Barty leers back.

“What?” Regulus scoffs.

“You can’t just fucking… don’t say that.” He shakes his head, taking a moment to compose himself, “Don’t be stupid, orrite. I can’t fucking… I love you, Reggie. I can’t handle… possibilities because I’m just… I’m gonna drive myself crazy thinking about them. And that’s not good.”

“I’ve never had someone love me before, Barty.” Regulus whispers, “I’ve never had someone… I want- I want to chose you too. You’re my best friend, and I already do choose you. But I want to do it more. I want to… please?”

“I don’t understand, Reg.” Barty whispered back.

Regulus took his hand, smoothing his fingers over Barty’s rigid knuckles. They’re rough and scarred, just as they always are. Just as Regulus knows them to be.

“I don’t really either, Barty.” He admits, “I never knew you felt that way, and I’ve never thought about it- you- us. I’ve never thought about us like that before, but I… I can picture it.”

Barty closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, Barty. I don’t want to lead you on. I want to try. Don’t you want to try?”

Barty keeps his eyes sealed shut and he shakes his head no, “What happens when you get bored of me? What- what happens when Potter comes crawling back to you? What happens when you realise I’m fucking… more insane than you thought? I’d- don’t tempt me, Regulus, because I meant what I said, I’d do anything for you.” Barty’s breath trembles, “I’d kill him, I’d kill them both. I’d kill all of them, just to make you happy. So you never feel like a second choice to them ever again- I- I mean it, Regulus.”

“I know.” Regulus breaths, and it scares him, what Barty’s saying, because he does know. It’s not just words. But those words aren’t the part that scare him, it’s the fact that he likes it that does. It makes him want. “I know, Barty. And I know that if I hurt you, truly, truly hurt you like this, you’d make my life a living hell. I know.”

“What about Potter?” Barty asks, trying to mask tears of his own, “Don’t you love him?”

“Maybe.” Regulus admits, regretfully so, “But I don’t want to. He’d never… he could never love me the way you could anyway. The way that I need.”

“And how do you need it?”

“To be your first choice.” Regulus whispered, “How do you need it, Barty?”

Barty took a deep breath, thinking about it for a moment. He looked up at Regulus with a pout and hopeful eyes, “I just want to be good enough for love before anything else.”

Regulus smiles, “You are.”

Barty shakes his head.

“You are.” Regulus confirms, “To me, you are.”

Barty sniffles, “Do you love me… like that?”

Regulus sighs, “N… no.” He scolds himself for the truth, because it seems to shatter Barty’s heart to pieces. “But I want to, Barty… I want to love you the way you do me. And I think I will. You just have to let me.”

“Really?” Barty sobs.

Regulus nods, “Will you let me?”

Barty nods and leans back in, and Regulus kisses him again. They both had wet cheeks, and headaches, and heartaches from crying, but they kiss anyway. And Regulus cries again, for hopefully the last time, because Barty kisses like he never wants to stop.

Regulus has never been kissed like that before.

Regulus has never been loved before.

He thinks with Barty, he might just be enough.

★ ★ ★

Bartylus shippers unite.

This one’s so angsty I’m sorry but I can’t help it and yerr Reggie kinda has misogynistic views which is gross but it’s the fucking 70’s and look at his parents. I USUALLY write them all to be better than that and not arseholes but I wanted to make this one hurt.

Also I don’t think I’ve written from Reggie’s pov before sooooo that was interesting.

Idk I liked this. Let me know your thoughts :)

Read here on ao3

If you want to read more of my stuff you can find it all here :))

Tagging everyone that expressed interest in the angsty bartylus one shot lmao: @lapassemirroir @mayflywrites @garlicbread4ever @moonyluv-s @managingmischeif @stxr-bxy @the-lionsheart @crimsonlovebartylus

#bartylus #regulus black #barty crouch jr #using Jegulus as a plot point for bartylus 😬🤭👀🤷#Reggie has so many big feelings but he’s never got to express them before the poor baby #it’s okay. Barty’s here to save the day #also Barty is a Ravenclaw. and so skinny it’s concerning. he’s trying to defy his dad by being the opposite of the big man he wants him 2 b #Barty is also awkward. not good at emotions but feels them so violently anyway. Barty is also a loose fucking cannon.#barty thinks he doesn’t matter when he actually matters to regulus most of all. they both just didn’t know it yet #and then they kiss and get married and have lots of babies #pandora my beloved and lily both get honerable mentions of being wonderful wonderful women. even though Reggie hates Lily he still thinks #she’s amazing #marauders #slytherin skittles #prev Jegulus #barty x regulus #fluff at the end #angst #kinda Jegulus slander #fluff if you squint #so much angst #dead gay wizards #dead gay wizards from the 70s #RAB #Barty jr #Reggie

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shadowreader23 · 29 days

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Time Travel Barnes? (Part 1)

The soldier sputtered and coughed, gasping deeply and painfully and feeling his chest contract and expand. He felt cold from landing in the freezing, muddy water below and it only made him feel worse than he'd already felt.

He coughed again, trying to push himself onto his side so he could lift his heavy, tired body. He was hurt, aching and exhausted from the fight, now weaponless. Apparently, forcing them to fight against each other wasn't the only plan Zemo had. The little man had caught him when his guard had dropped for a fraction of a second and he was hit with something. A glowing rock or whatever. A stone with a shine to it. It was thrown at him and he was suddenly forced down to his knees, yelling and screaming around him and from him and he was being propelled through the air.

And from the looks of it, this wasn't the building he was just in. Instead, he was surrounded by trees and grass and muddy puddles. It was raining, a heavy downpour completely soaking him from head to boot. James coughed a few more times as he managed to get up into a crouch, his hair instantly plastered itself to his face and neck and obscuring his vision until he snapped his head around at the sound of gunfire. He was, thankfully, still crouched on his knees, so he wasn't seen. The sounds of battle weren't that far away, but it wasn't close either.

His first priority was to find out where he was and then he could leave and find his way back to Steve and the team. And... he also needed to find a thick jacket, for warmth and to cover his arm. He'd doubt that anyone would speak to him if they saw the weapon just hanging there like some everyday limb. It would frighten them and they’d turn him away or even run. And he didn’t want that.

James eyed the area, scrutinizing and scanning each and everything he saw. His guard was going to be above high now that he knew he could be surprised by a weaponless man. He’d rather not take any chances at this point. And it didn’t help the fact that he was thrown and was now lost in god knows where.

He was drawn back by the continuous sounds of guns and explosions, grabbing his attention and causing him to wince from an oncoming headache. Not a headache from the noise, but one from a forewarning of a memory, something that was trying to break through his mental wall. He’d had a few of war, especially from his, supposed, time as a Howling Commando. WWII had resurfaced a few times, but they hadn’t lasted long, only a few memories, images. Gunfire, explosions, men calling out the name ‘Serg, Barnes, Bucky, or even Jimmy’ when they needed his attention.

He almost jerked in surprise at the deafening boom landing about a mile away, shaking the ground beneath his feet and forcing him to drop his head in instinctual defence. He tried to calm his breathing in that position, his heartbeat having started racing at the sounds and yells in the background.

At least he now had an idea on which way he was going to go. And that was not in the directions of firing guns and detonating bombs and missiles. He’d rather head away from all of that if it were an option.

James glanced over his shoulder at the mass of trees and overgrowth before turning back and cautiously standing, keeping his senses sharp as he started walking away from where he’d heard the battle. He must’ve been near a war currently going on in another country. That didn’t bode too well for his chances of seeing the team soon and being able to get them out of the cell Steve had mentioned. Apparently Stark was a massive talker when drunk and that little info had slipped. A cell-base for the Avengers and anyone of the like.

He was visually scouting ahead and to his sides when he felt his nervous twitch pick up, a familiar feeling hitting his chest. It felt sadly odd to him, a familiar feeling that he shouldn’t be able to place. And yet, he could.

From what he could tell, from the close battle. He was near the front-lines of a war, something he knew and had felt before he’d been HYDRAs’ puppet. It gave him a sad feeling, a sad nostalgic tug at his heart and emotions. The wars he’d supposedly been in so many years ago.

And it may have been him, but he didn’t feel like it. He didn’t feel like that man after these last seventy years.

The Sergeant of the Howling Commandos, that led one of the best teams through the front-lines of war. It was simpler and easier than anything he’d been through already. He’d had memories, nightmares, images, but not many. They all brought him back to the 1940s’, where life seemed like it was at its worst. The depression, the loss, the constant war between them and the Nazi.

But it turned out that there were far worse things to go through… and he’d been through that already.

He sighed deeply while keeping an ear out on his 6, but he didn't hear much. Just the forestry and bulks of gunfire, explosions and yelling miles and miles away from him. Where the military men were fighting and trying to win for more than just their own sake and freedom.

James easily and gracefully vaulted over a low fence, landing quietly in another muddy puddle before continuing to walk in a random direction, hoping to get to a town as soon as possible. It wasn’t dark, not yet, but it was getting there. The sun was already obscured by mountains and trees, not by the ones he was walking through, but the ones further away, in the opposite direction to where he was going. He’d rather not run around in the dark because if he was to come across a camp, he may be mistaken for the enemy and either be shot or taken in for questioning, probably shot if they took in his dangerous appearance, excluding his arm.

If he couldn’t find a town by nightfall, then he’d have to find shelter before it got too dark and that was when patrol usually increased. It wasn't that he remembered this. It was common sense to someone that had been on constant missions with the STRIKE team and knew more than a lot about military tactics.

James let out a deep yelp as he stood on a strange loose piece of wet mud and grass, slipping and sliding on his ass and into a massive, human-sized hole.

And another military tactic… was foxholes…

“Son of a bitch,” he panted after getting over the initial stun of the trip. His heart had metaphorically leapt into his throat and he could feel his blood pumping from the minor surprise. He’d actually forgotten about these. He and the STRIKE team rarely used them when he was apart of HYDRA, and by ‘rarely’ he meant hardly ever. He was covered in more dirt and grime, looking himself over to see the extent and it was like he took a bath in mud.

He was still a little breathless as he slowly pushed himself to sit up, lifting his head high and taking in deep breathes to calm himself. It just made it easier for the rain to pour over his face, drenching even more than before, if it were possible.

The soldier let out another deep huff before managing to push himself to stand, mud and sopping wet dirt either dropping from him or sticking to his black, combat trousers. He was covered in it at this point, from his fall earlier and now. He could only see a few large patches of black and that was only because he wiped some of the dirt.

“This way? ” James instantly snapped to attention, catching the… German voices. German, was he in Europe? He frowned, quickly and swiftly climbed out of the hole with trained silence, moving quickly through the overgrowth until he was a good way away from the foxhole and hidden behind a thicket of trees. He needed to be fast, agile and noiseless now. If there were voices nearby, that may mean that there’s a small troop, half a platoon maybe. He couldn’t risk staying, either way.

So, he didn’t wait around. As soon as he started hearing footsteps, multiple of them, maybe three sets, he gradually took off in the other direction. He was basically doing an ‘L’ shape from where he started. But at least he wasn’t heading anywhere near the explosions and gunfire. The area he was currently in must’ve been a cleared area, or the battle hadn’t gotten this far yet.

He darted around trees and shrubbery, being as fast and efficient as he was in missions. He stayed low and out of sight and gradually started to jog through the forest, feeling confident enough that he was out of eye-line and hearing range.

James slowed when he seemed to come to a clearing, massive and open, with a wide, empty and wet mud covered road crossing a path in front of the forest-line. There was a cornfield on the other side, a large shed on the other side of that and there was a town just off from the farm-like scene. He didn’t have a jacket, so he’d rather not speak with anyone yet. Maybe he could ask the farm owner? Or steal one… He’d rather not, but if it meant he’d warmer and his arm would be covered, then it was a necessity.

The soldier crouched as he got closer to the tree-line, looking both ways cautiously through the heavy rain. Everything had a foggy tint to it, the mist was thick and the rain was thick, splashing up after hitting the ground. His entire suit was heavy and pulling him down. If possible, he’d ask for borrowed clothes if it meant he could dry his tactical gear.

After a few moments of nothing he gradually moved to stand, still watching both ways before quickly darting across the road and over vaulting over the fence, landing gracefully and without fault. He started back into a jog as he made his way towards the cornfield, ducking a little once he hit the first line of them, to avoid a faceful. It was getting a little too dark now, the sun completely went over the mountains. There was minimal light now and he could only just see what was ahead of him as he trotted through the corn. It wasn’t a big field, maybe two yards? A yard and a half? He’d imagine it was the latter since he could already see the other end and shed coming closer.

James skipped a few times during the jog, his boots getting caught in the overly wet dirt and catching his balance off. It was irritating, but the thought that he might get himself some shelter purged that feeling. He wanted and needed somewhere to take a break and catch his breath. There was no way he had any kind of advantage for wherever he was and that unsettled him.

He darted out of the field, panting slightly before suddenly darting behind a close building. There was noise, voices, machinery.

“Take them and kill them, the house,” more German. At least he figured that he must’ve been in Europe somewhere. It made it easier to think about how to get back. Though, he couldn’t pinpoint where the war was. There hadn’t been anything going on with Germany for years now. He didn’t recall any recent war going on that was this big.

James leaned close to the corner, peeking around to see a few men in uniform, very familiar uniform. They were dressed in dark colours, swastika patches on red fabric around their arms. This was a very real re-enactment of WWII and he was suddenly feeling lost, in his own mind at just seeing the uniform and now taking in the voices and language. It was like a sudden spark lit painfully on his insides. He didn’t like this at all.

The soldier snuck further around back and crouched his way into the very well groomed garden with flowers and perfect beauty, clearly, a woman had her way with it. He reached the back door and grabbed the handle, being as quiet as ever as he opened it and snuck in, closing it silently behind him. He could suddenly hear cries, from a woman and fun, raspy voices of old age having caught up and he frowned before lowering himself into a deeper crouch. He shifted through the hall and stopped at the corner, peeking once again and hearing the aggressive orders of a soldier in the house. And then he saw him, angry and pointing his, what looked like, an old MP-40 at two civilians. Where did they manage to get an old German weapon like that?

He internally shook his head to rid himself of the thought and took a silent breath before launching out at the man, swinging his left arm and backhanding the man across the face with his metal fist. He saw blood spray from his mouth and then he ducked, his arm pulling back and he punched forward, straight into his sternum. James then swiftly circled the German and locked the metal forearm against his throat, using the only weapon he had to his advantage. He could still hear the cries in the background, from the seemingly old couple, huddled against the wall, the woman with her head hidden behind the man and the male was watching on in what seemed like terror, eyes wide and filled with fear.

James returned to the choking man, hearing the rasps and gasps of lost breathe as it left him. There was no yelling or audible sounds from him, only the choking and the feeling of his body getting heavy against him. Finally, after some time, he took a final intake of air and dropped against him, the weight forcing James to steady his stance. He gradually lowered the body and himself, taking a quick glance at the two still against the wall. The woman was sobbing into the man's shoulder and the was still staring. He slowly lifted a finger to his mask and made a gesture to keep quiet, the old male instantly giving a rapid nod, stroking the females’ head and hair

The soldier turned back to the body and quickly began raiding it, slipping the MP-40 over his shoulder. A P38 pistol was strapped to his waist, along with two types of hunting knives and three ‘MB’ grenades, small spheres that were highly explosive. All of these weapons were… they pre-dated the 21st century. They were all based on the War in the 1940s’, WWII to be specific.

Either this was very real Role-playing, or this was the war, and by the reactions and expression of the couple in the room… this wasn’t a game. But… that couldn’t be. It was impossible, preposterous nonsense that still hadn’t been reached in their science and technology yet. It was beyond what they had.

“What year is it…” he still questioned out of the need for an answer and confirmation that this was an idiotic thought because it was. The soldier turned to gaze at him, trying to seem less dangerous so he’d answer. He still seemed understandably hesitant and reluctant, but he opened and closed his mouth, like a fish out of water, a few stutters of words and letters, and then-

“1943,” he gasped with a German accent, still afraid and more than a little wary with a hint of confusion. James’ eyes widened, his heart beating faster and his blood pumping could be heard in his skull. He felt sick, nauseous with his stomach churning.

Part 2 anyone?

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