#barty crouch is hot

[justsumtransdude2000]

"If you don't like Snape you shouldn't defend Barty Crouch bc he's basically the same!"

Have you considered that Barty is hot, tho?? I don't hate Snape, he's not my cup of tea, and I also don't idolize Barty, but I do defend him.

Bc he's hot.

I wish (some of) you guys would stop acting like you have deep, canon rooted reasons to defend a character, because a lot of you just don't. I like him bc he's hot. I defend him bc he's hot. I write fics about him because he's hot. He's hot in the movies, in the fics, in the books and especially in rosekiller/bartylus fanart.

[fiasco95]

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

Pandora:

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

Barty: Aye.

Dorcas: Aye.

Evan: Aye.

Marlene: Aye.

James: Aye.

Pandora: …

Pandora: MARLENE???

Pandora: JAMES POTTER?!?!

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

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

Pandora:

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

[norry-yippee]

Remus Lupin is a NERD and a LOSER stop these false ‘cool guy’ accusations!!!!

Everyone thought he was hot then they tried to have a conversation and baby couldn’t get a full sentence in.

[cat-s0ul]

Possessive Evan Rosier and Clingy Barty Crouch Jr.

[evyltalks]

Little rosekiller for you 🌹🔪

(First real barty and evan art hope you’ll like it)

[saddramaqueensworld]

I believe Rosekiller will definitely try to use a knife to make a scar of each other's names on their chest.

[starlittragedies]

saw this post about regulus wearing glasses and I LOVE IT SO MUCH

cause imagine regulus who’s contacts had been ruined by barty (he was messing around as he does and accidentally knocked down regulus’ side table making his contacts fall on the floor, leaving them unusable) so he HAS to wear his glasses so he could see cause it would take at least a day for his new contacts to come in.

but being his stubborn and vain self he doesn’t want to because for one, he thinks it makes him look stupid and two, it doesn’t really match him or his face shape (it does he just doesn’t want to admit it) so he settled for squinting his eyes at any given moment just so he would not have to wear his godforsaken glasses. though his squinting doesn’t do that much for him considering the number of times he seemed to bump into things, people, and walls.

by the time they had reached the great hall his friends had enough. pandora accio-ed regulus’ glasses and handed it to dorcas who had put it on its owner with a strong sticking charm while barty and evan held him in place.

safe to say that regulus has not bumped into anything or anyone after that and the glasses stayed on until his contacts came. he also got a few compliments for it.

not to mention a similarly bespectacled boy from the gryffindor table looking at him with heart eyes, which had a lovestruck shine to them (double than they usually are), thinking about how cute his crush is and how if they had had a child the child would have blurry eyesight just like his fathers.

[katakosmos]

tall, thin, almost skeletal and sharp barty, with sleepy eyes and a smug smile, who walks in the corridors with slightly rounded shoulders and, when he's sitting, he stretches his legs and his feet under the table collide with the shoes of the other death eaters. barty, who laughs at the most inappropriate moments, loud and maniacal, who licks his lips, runs a long, bony finger over the surface of a piece of furniture and collects the dust. his face is more hollow than usual and his hair is disheveled, but his gaze is lively and his movements are fluid, magnetic. barty, who speaks to evan with his chin on his shoulder, exhaling his warm breath, words, laughter, directly onto his neck. barty, curled up in an armchair, with his knees pulled up to his chest, while he scrapes his tongue on the serrated part of his upper teeth, one corner of his mouth slightly lifted up, who wonders how much of his body he can fit into evan's; if, by pressing himself a little, he could ever get under his skin, if there is room for him too, if evan would ever welcome barty inside him like a second soul...

[alter-ego-xxx]

Trans!regulus

Regulus, with his back smashed to the headboard of his bed, legs wide apart

Barty, bended so pretty with his ass in the air eating sweet Reggie out

James, Fucking Barty in the ass enjoying the view as he make Barty whimper into Regulus , making them all moan as they go harder

what who said that?

slightly nsfw

I have no idea who said that, anon, I think it might have been mind reading...

But no, this is so hot. I have nothing to add to that, except maybe that they all cum simultaneously AND defenitely at least three times. There's so much cum omg.

[andyxcds]

a lil controversial but i believe that this fandom is only a little bit racist. that's not to imply "off with the pocs" but rather, little omissions they like to make when writing characters. I'm all for fun and do what you want but these characters are supposed to be people outside their relationships and emotions.

exhibit A: POC James.

I only have a question for you. When you headcanon James, do you take his race into account? If you do, you're in the green light here.

To omit the fact that he is in fact a brown boy in a predominantly white institution is to admit the fact that you are ignorant.(/lh)

Unfortunately, the same can be made for Dorcas and Mary. These are BLACK women in a place where black people will STRUGGLE to exist; for example, hair, culture, language, identity. These are things that make up a Black woman's life. and it can get difficult to maintain this in a place that isn't necessarily looking out for these women.

But its not difficult to adress the homophobia of the 70s huh? in Britain even? alright man.

this is only one bit of the problem this fandom has; you want inclusivity but you won't make it work. you want poc james but you won't be realistic in the way you can be realistic about his queerness?

okay I've said too much. i see the pitchforks coming

[girlsrangels]

real hot girls obsess over dead gay wizards

[sommerregenjuniluft]

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

no thoughts, just line cook! barty

A miracle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rush hour comes and goes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Grab two for me?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry, no can do, Rosie baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[bombyxluna]

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

[futurequibblerjournalist]

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

[doomedtokill]

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

[crimsonlovebartylus]

groupie regulus, wearing a mesh shirt and black leather shorts, and docs, leaving his long pale legs on full display, while wearing an exclusive all black penny lane or cheetah print jacket, leaning against the railing looking up at 80's Rockstar Barty Crouch Jr who's looking down at him with a smirk and hunger.

plot twist: they fuck and get married in vegas. fuck yeah the 80s.