#Treasure of Oblivion | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

crescenthistory · 3 months ago

Note

could i get f.4 "you woke me up for this?" with barty? tysm xoxo 💗💗

every single time someone makes a barty request, an angel is born, or whatever that saying is. had to jump on this immediately, thank you for the request love<33

Prompt: F.4 "You woke me up for this?"

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: not proofread, unbelievably soft, a lot of banter and back-and-forth (slight sunshine x grumpy dynamic where reader is grumpy), barty sneaking into your dorm is a typical occurrence, no gender mentioned/gender neutral reader (as far as i can recall), implied insomnia, implied mental health struggles on barty's end, slight mention of scars at the end, close physical proximity/cuddling

Note: this got way softer than i expected, but i really just love him you guys

The velvet black of the night pressed against the windows of the Slytherin dorms, thick and unyielding. The soft glow of the enchanted ceiling in the common room had dimmed hours ago, and the castle itself was silent, save for the occasional creaks of ancient stone settling in the night.

Peace. Blissful, undisturbed peace.

You were nestled under layers of blankets, sunk deep into the comfort of your bed. The dormitory was cool, a chill hanging in the air, but you had cocooned yourself snugly. The last remnants of sleep tugged at your consciousness, heavy and sweet, drawing you back into the oblivion of dreams.

Until—

“Treasure…”

A voice, teasing, playful, cut through the silence.

You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, ignoring it.

“Treasure.”

This time, the voice was closer, almost a whisper, right by your ear. A hand—warm and familiar—poked at your shoulder.

You groaned, curling deeper into your blankets, hoping to disappear completely.

“Go away, Junior.”

“Come on, wake up.”

It wasn’t just the voice now. Fingers were tugging at the corner of your blanket, trying to pull it away from your face.

Another groan escaped your lips, and you finally cracked open an eye, squinting against the dim light that seeped in from the common room. Standing beside your bed was your personal idiot with his familiar grin plastered across his face, eyes gleaming with the excitement of someone about to cause trouble.

“Barty, no,” you muttered, voice thick with sleep. “I’m asleep.”

He let out a dramatic sigh, tossing himself down onto your bed, stretching out beside you as if he belonged there. You shushed him as the bed squeaked, not wanting to wake your roommates, who you now were grateful were deep sleepers. His limbs splayed chaotically across your bed, one leg in each corner, arm draped across your stomach as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Hellooo,” he murmured again, a soft lilt in his voice that always seemed to stir something in you, even in the dead of night. “I need you.”

“No, you don’t,” you grumbled, trying to shove him off, but he was persistent, curling against you with all the determination of a cat who had found its spot. “Whatever it is can wait until I’ve had my beauty sleep.”

“You’re already beautiful,” Barty said without hesitation, his grin only growing wider. “I’m bored. And you’re fun.”

“I was asleep.”

“I know, but I’m awake, and that’s more important, don’t you think?”

Your only response was to groan again and attempt to roll away from him. Barty’s quick reactions saved him, as he clutched onto you so that he rolled along with you, ending up on the other side of your bed. His arms tightened around you, effectively trapping you against him.

You finally open your eyes properly, seeing him grinning at you, face inches from yours. Part of you almost hoped this was about to be an emotional breakdown of some sorts, so that it might actually warrant breaking into your room to disturb your slumber.

Unfortunately, Barty was in a great mood.

“Now that you’re up – what’cha wanna do?”

“You woke me up for this? To quench your thirst for entertainment?”

“Precisely.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, but there was no real heat in your words. You were used to this by now. Barty had a way of worming his way into your space, uninvited and unapologetic, until you gave in – which you always did.

“That’s why you love me,” he teased, voice warm against your skin as he nuzzled closer.

“I tolerate you,” you corrected, though the corners of your mouth betrayed you with the slightest twitch of a smile.

Barty noticed, of course. He always did. “Aha!” He said a bit too loudly, earning him a swat on the arm. “You’re smiling, Treasure. Evidently, you can’t resist me, either.”

“I’m frowning.”

“You’re smiling.”

“Frowning.”

“Definitely smiling.”

“Either?” Your sleep-ridden brain eventually processed his sentence.

“You heard me.” Cheshire cat grin remained plastered on his face. Stupid face.

Before you could protest further, Barty shifted, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look down at you. His dark curls were a mess, green strands sticking out from random places, tumbling into his eyes, and he looked far too pleased with himself for your liking.

“Okay then.” You hooked a finger into the collar of his t-shirt and looked at him expectantly. “What do you want, Barty?” Your voice was softer now, mostly to incite him to keep the general volume down – and perhaps partly out of fondness for your peculiar best friend. Perhaps you liked the way he clung to you, even at inconvenient times, the way he needed you.

Barty’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker you couldn’t place passing over his face, though his grin didn’t falter. “I wanted to see you,” he said simply, as if that explained everything. “Do I need to want anything more? I couldn’t sleep.”

“And you decided that meant I shouldn’t either?”

“Exactly.” He beamed, clearly proud of his logic.

You stared at him for a moment, half-expecting him to break into another fit of laughter or say something ridiculous, but he didn’t. Instead, he just looked at you, his gaze soft and affectionate in a way that still took you by surprise sometimes. For all his chaos and insanity, Barty had a way of making you feel like you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him when he looked at you like that.

It was disarming, and, despite your best efforts, you found yourself softening, your irritation fading like mist in the morning sun.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, but your voice was gentle now, resigned.

“That much we know.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, you let out a long, exasperated sigh and reached up to push the stray curls out of his face with your hand not currently tucked into his collar. Both for no particular reason – you just enjoyed the closeness. His hair was soft under your fingers, and you could feel the warmth of his skin where your hand brushed against his forehead.

“Tell me then, rascal,” you said after a moment. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

Barty’s grin faltered slightly, the usual mask of chaotic energy slipping just a little. He shifted, lying back down beside you and resting his head on your pillow, his face inches from yours. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, and you could see the gears turning in his mind, like he was trying to decide how much to tell you.

“It’s just…everything,” he said finally, his voice unusually soft. “You know how it is. My dad, school, all of it. It gets to me sometimes. And then I start thinking, and when I start thinking, I can’t stop, and…well, here I am.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the honesty in his tone. Barty wasn’t usually one to talk about his feelings – at least, not in any serious way. He was more likely to brush everything off with a joke or a snarky comment, hiding behind his manic energy and that sharp, clever mind of his. But now, in the dim light of your dorm, he seemed more vulnerable than usual, the edges of his bravado softened.

You sighed again, but this time it was a softer sound, more understanding than annoyed. “You should’ve just said that instead of waking me up with your usual nonsense.”

Barty chuckled, though there was a faint edge to it. “What, and miss the chance to annoy you? Never.”

You rolled your eyes again, but this time you didn’t push him away. Instead, you reached out and brushed your fingers against his cheek, a small gesture of comfort that he seemed to appreciate. He closed his eyes at the touch, leaning into it slightly, like a cat seeking warmth.

“I don’t know how you do it,” you said quietly after a moment.

“Do what?”

“Deal with everything. Your dad, all the expectations. It’s a lot, Barty.”

He opened his eyes again, and for a moment, you saw something raw and unguarded in them. “I have to,” he said simply. “What else can I do? Run away? Disappear? I’ve thought about it, you know. Just leaving everything behind. But then…I think about you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.” He reached out, his fingers brushing against your hand, tracing lazy patterns on your skin. “You keep me grounded, Treasure. Without you, I’d probably go completely mad.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips at his words, even though you tried to suppress it. “You’re already mad, Barty.”

He grinned, a spark of mischief returning to his eyes. “True. But you keep me from going completely off the deep end.”

You huffed out a soft laugh. “Well, I’m glad I can be of service.”

Barty shifted closer to you, his arm slipping around your waist. “You’re more than that, though. You know that, right?”

Your heart did a strange little flip in your chest at his words, and you felt your cheeks warm. You did know though – he always made sure you did, in one way or another.

“I’m not good at this,” he murmured, his voice low. “I’m not good at…feelings. But I’m good at knowing what I want. And I want you. Always have.”

You swallowed hard, unsure of what to say to that. Barty was the one presence in your life you could count on, no matter what gave. Somehow, you realised you hadn’t fully grasped just how much he meant to you – feelings weren’t exactly your forte, either. When he lies beside you in your bed, all soft and serene, it’s easier to understand.

“I know,” was all you whispered, voice barely audible.

Barty’s gaze flickered, tenderness flashing on and off across his face, as if he couldn’t quite decide if he wanted to stick with it. He reached up, brushing his fingers against your cheek, and for a moment, the world outside your little bubble of blankets and whispered words seemed to fall away

His fingers lingered on your cheek, feather-light, as if he was afraid you might disappear. His eyes were uncharacteristically calm. It was unsettling and comforting all at once, and you weren’t sure how to process it.

“You’re not supposed to be this serious, you know,” you teased, trying to break the tension that had settled between you. It wasn’t unwelcome, but it was unfamiliar territory, and you preferred the safety of routine. You both pushed each other to confront your fears in that sense.

He chuckled softly, his lips curling into a soft smile, and your heart ached a little as you realised it was best described as intimate. “Don’t worry, Treasure. I’m still a menace. But even menaces need their moments.”

“You take all the moments you need.” You shifted slightly closer to him at that, knees brushing his through the blanket – he never bothered slipping beneath it.

“Nah,” he teased. “Then we’d be here all night. And day.”

“I wouldn’t mind spending all night with you here.”

“Oi!” he whisper-yelled at you, eyes jokingly widened. “Are you flirting with me, Treasure? You can’t turn the tables on me like that when I’m all vulnerable and shit.”

“I can do whatever I want, Junior.” You stuck your tongue out at him before laughing quietly at his facial expressions.

“That you can.”

“I deserve it after you woke me up.”

“Oh, come on,” Barty said, his voice dropping to that low, affectionate tone he used when he wanted to get under your skin. “You love it when I wake you up. Admit it. Love spending time with me.”

“I absolutely do not.”

“You literally just said you do.”

“And where’s your evidence?” You quirked your brow at him and he squinted his eyes at you. Pulling “the evidence card”, as he called it, was your favourite way to get out of being held accountable for saying something sweet to him – he hated it, or so he said.

“First of all, rude.” He lifted a finger to shake in your head, fake gasping as you pretended you were about to bite it. “Second of all, you do love me. Say it.”

“Maybe just a little bit.” You gave in, small part of you wondering if maybe he needed to hear it.

“Methinks a lot of bit.”

“No way.” You couldn’t give it to him entirely either, though.

He clearly didn’t mind your bickering too much as he laughed, the sound quiet and warm, and you felt his arm tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. His forehead leaned down to rest against yours, breaths mingling in the small space between you. Instinctively, you took a deep breath, as if suddenly relaxed.

“Liar,” he whispered, his nose brushing against yours in the softest of touches.

No words of protest or argument came to mind, as you let your eyes drift shut, sleepy smile spreading across your lips. “Yeah, I am.”

Nights with Barty coming barging in, although a pain in the morning, were rewarding in a way you couldn’t quite describe. You wouldn’t trade them for anything.

“There we go. Admitting you have a problem is the first step in making progress.”

“You would know.” You peaked an eye open just to confirm that he stuck his tongue out at that comment. Because of course he did.

Silence settled comfortably between you for a minute, Barty’s thumb drawing soothing circles on your waist in the blip of skin showing between your sleep shirt and shorts. His hands on your skin was not a new sensation, you were aware you were touchier than most best friends – Regulus and Evan seemingly never stopped reminding you – but it just felt right. Being near Barty felt right, even when he constantly tossed and turned, limbs all over the place as it was apparently humanly impossible for the boy to sit still. Whether it is an arm around your shoulder, your head on his chest or fingers tracing one another, physical contact with him soothed your soul.

You felt safe.

“Do you feel better?” you suddenly asked, opening your eyes to find him already looking at you with a soft, surveying gaze.

“What?”

You almost snorted at his dazed confusion. “You came here because you were bored, couldn’t sleep, needed entertainment. Because I’m fun, remember?”

He laughed in the way he usually does at his own jokes. “Oh yeah, right.”

“So, do you feel better? Or should we take a run around the dungeons to get your adrenaline going?”

You could almost see his ears peak up, like when you say the word treat around a dog – but that almost lazy smile around his lips never left. “Don’t tease me with a good time, Treasure – or do, I’d never say no to a good time with you.” You rolled your eyes at that. “But no, I’m good. I’ve got all I need right here.”

“Which is?” you asked quizzically, expecting banter.

The earnest look in his eyes suggested otherwise. “You.”

Your heart clenched, your lip almost quivering with emotion before you decided to get it together. “Cheesy.”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “But true.”

“You’re entertained by me mocking you a little bit and then kind of half-sleeping in your arms?”

“Yeah.” He repeated. He looked at you with a look that said are you stupid, what is there not to get. You couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“Okay, then. Whatever makes you happy.”

“Glad to have your approval, ma’am.”

You raised a brow at him. “Ma’am? You should start calling me that more often.”

“Instead of Treasure?”

“You can mix and match.”

“Noted, ma’am.” His gaze was teasing, as was his squeeze to your hips.

You stared at him as you tried to figure him out, figure the two of you out. How come he settles this peace in your body, even when he represents everything but? How come you understand him so well and seemingly not at all, all at the same time? Why does he seek you out when he doesn’t feel good, why did he even seek you out when you first met? Why–

Barty takes your bottom lip in between his two fingers and drag it out from between your teeth.

“Stop biting yourself; it’s not nice.” His tone was teasing, but his eyes were trained on you as if studying. “What’s going on in your head?”

You hummed in confusion, looking at him to explain himself, but he just get staring at you, expecting an answer. You sighed.

“Just wondering,” you said, half-trailing off. “I don’t know. Why do you always come to me, Barty?”

“As opposed to what? Cuddling up to Black? He’d kill me without a second thought.”

You laughed a little at the imagery, knowing all too well that Regulus keeps his wand under his pillow and has no qualms about hexing intruders with it. You’d been on the receiving end once by accident, when Barty dragged you all the way to his dorm with him when he forgot his books before heading to the library with you on the one day a week Regulus “sleeps in”, meaning gets up at 9 instead of 7.

“Yeah, no, please don’t do that. I’d like you to keep all your limbs.” He gave you a look that screamed exactly. “I mean, why am I a source of comfort for you? I don’t exactly give you an easy time.”

“I think you need to reevaluate how hard you are on me – because you aren’t, you’re barely any bark and definitely no bite,” Barty started and you rolled your eyes playfully at him, to which he chuckled a bit.

“I can bite.”

“Is that a promise?” He winked at you, earning him yet another swat of the night. “And to answer your question, I don’t know. You’re just you. You see the parts of me everyone run away from, and you have fun with them. That’s all I need really. You’re all I need. I can’t really put it into words in any way that makes sense; it just intrinsically is. I mean, why do you find comfort in me? I feel like that’s more outrageous.”

“I… I don’t know. I guess you’re right. You’re just Barty.”

You met his gaze, admiring every colour that speckled his irises, unconscious smile spreading across your lips. Your fingers go up to trace along the edges of his face, as if taking him in. Just Barty.

“Then we feel the same.” Barty confirmed, seemingly pleased by this.

“We feel the same.”

It seemed the closest the two of you would come to an outright confession of love for now. It still settled in your heart as one.

His hand came up to hold yours, pressing it more firmly into his cheek. He turned his head to the side, pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to the inside of your palm. Your chest was working overtime to process the emotions and you were desperate to move on, to calm the storm in your heart named Junior.

“You’ll keep me sane, and I’ll be the death of you. Feels like a fair bargain, no?” Barty teased, as if he knew you needed to lighten the atmosphere.

Your throat still felt tight from emotion, but you laughed nonetheless.

“A bit unbalanced maybe, but I’ll take it.” You let your hand slip from under his to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Though, I think sanity might be reaching a bit too high. Stable is more like it. Able to partake in society.”

“Ugh, society.” Barty’s reaction to your last sentence was automatic. For the rest, he simply poked you in the side. “But yeah, seems like a good deal. Stable. That’s more than anyone else could manage.”

You shook your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you’re still here.”

At that, you shuffled closer to him, burying your head into the crook of his neck. “And I always will be.”

His hand came up to thread his fingers through your hair, and you could feel his smile as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to the top of your hair. It was so low you couldn’t be sure he actually said it, but you thought you caught a weak thank you.

“Say, Barty,” you whispered into his neck. “Are you entertained by me when I’m asleep as well, or should I be a good friend and stay awake?”

He breathed a laugh into your hair. “I’m surprised you’re actually still awake and talking to me. Go to sleep, darling.”

“You’ll be good?”

“In what capacity of the term?”

From this position, you could barely give him a light swat on the shoulder. He buried his face closer in your head as he sighed.

“No, I’ll be fine. I really just… I just needed to be with you. And now I am. So you can go to sleep with a good conscience.”

You squeezed him a bit tighter at that, one hand slipping up under his shirt to trace patterns along his back, fingertips dragging over scars and moles alike. He sighed into you at your touch.

“Goodnight, Barty. Wake me up if that head of yours gets too loud.” You pressed a soft kiss to his collarbone through his shirt.

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered into the night.

When your roommates woke up in the morning, none of them were surprised to see a Barty-shaped shadow through the curtains of your bed.

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