#bcj x you

[crescenthistory]

OMG CONGRATS ON 2K!!!! I hope I get to see 20k because you absolutely deserve it! May I request a Roommate au with Barty crouch please!!

THANK YOUUUUU BUBS you're so sweet!!! the way i saw the vision for this INSTANTLY omg thank you for participating mwah<33

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i will ARGUE for prompt 12 "roommate au" with barty crouch jr.

carina's 2k celebration

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cw: pre-relationship, reference to crouch senior, cursing, physical affection & wc: 1.1k

You always knew when Barty came home.

Whether it was because he didn't realise how loud he was being or because he frankly didn't care, you weren't entirely certain yet. All you knew was that this boy you met through mutual friends when you were in the middle of a housing crisis entered into his flat as if he was escaping a war zone. Door slammed both as he opened and closed it, boots flying into walls as he kicked them off, jacket accidentally knocking the shoe horn over every day, followed by a loud curse. It did not matter if he was on top of the moon, down in the valley or completely neutral – Barty would always be loud.

It brought you a lot of grief when you first moved in together, though, to be fair, Dorcas had warned you. You still remember her exact phrasing: “I wouldn’t have subjected you to him unless I knew you needed it and could handle it.”

If you waved her off for being dramatic, then that was simply on you.

Though, you learned quickly that Barty wasn’t a terrible roommate. Apart from the major peak, which was that he was renting you one of his several vacant bedrooms in a surprisingly sizable flat in the middle of London for next to nothing, he was a rather supportive and democratic roommate. Anything he bought for the kitchen or bathroom was “free for all” as he called it, he loved handling all the stressful phone calls for maintenance or billing because he got to argue with someone for an hour and on his insisted weekly movie-nights, he let you choose almost every single time. Thus; a relatively good roommate. Not necessarily a sweet one, but you would never demand that from a stranger anyway. 

And you kept insisting that you and Barty were still strangers.

A voice in your head pointed out how contradictory that was, because when Barty entered the flat today in his usual loud manner, you could pick up that something was wrong.

You had been lounging on the settee for the past hour with a book and some neglected homework, not at all waiting for him to come home. At the sound of his entry, you stiffened in your seat, sitting up and closing your book over your fingers as concern began etching itself into your expression with a knife.

“Barty?” you called uncertainly, putting one foot down onto the floor.

He rounded the corner with his bag flung over his slumped shoulders and let out a – also loud – huff. The handsome features of his face were dragged out as the skin seemed to melt off of his face in exhaustion, yet all of his muscles seemed to be tense, holding on.

Immediately upon entering the room, Barty’s eyes met yours and seemed to melt a little. “Dragă, you won’t believe the bloody day I’ve had.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but Barty was already moving across the room, dropping his bag haphazardly on a chair and yanking off his sweater in one not-at-all-distracting move before throwing it onto the back of the sofa opposite you. 

As he walked, he seemed to relay his unbelievable day to you, worries all flowing from him with minimal hindrance. Your eyes remained thoughtfully furrowed and your attention pinned on him for reasons you chose not to investigate.

“My boss has got corporate’s boot on his neck once again and the fucker is taking it out on me, trying to criticise my paperwork when I move through twice the amount of cases as any of his other top workers.” He’s opening the fridge to grab a bottle of water, chugging it all in one go before he continued – that’s another thing you’ve noticed about Barty, he has remarkable control of his body and is able to open his throat to down pretty much any drink within seconds. 

“And then Regulus and fucking Potter – you know him, right, annoying smiley bloke? Anyway, Regulus and fucking Potter are quite literally fucking and it’s the most despicable thing I’ve seen, almost making me lose my lunch anytime we’re in the same room together.” He’s walking towards you know, making a beeline towards the other side of your settee.

“Not to mention my father won’t fucking leave me alone, he has been calling me nonstop, I’m talking – and I swear to gods, I am not exaggerating at all Dragă – over twelve times today already. And I know it’s nothing serious, which makes it all the more infuriating–”

As Barty carries on, he plops down on the seat beside you, gesturing with his hands and distracted in his animated rant. You’ve put your book aside on the coffee table and move to angle yourself towards him to fully focus on what he has to say, when he beats you to it. Barty turns around in his seat to lay down across the settee to place his head in your lap. His left leg is slung over the back of the sofa while the other is sprawled out onto the floor, arms still gesturing wildly as he gets comfortable on the plush of your thighs.

“– he’s just trying to get a rise out of me, I know it so bloody well, and he’s still fucking successful–”

Your roommate of a few months who you still tell yourself is more or less a stranger despite knowing him well enough to understand every aspect of his current rambling has laid his head in your lap as you talk.

It felt oddly right.

Partly without thinking and partly because where else do you put your fucking hands, you let your right hair come down to comb through his hair that is slightly humid from the January mist outside. His contrasting strands of black and acid green get all mixed up at the movement, but more importantly, his face took on a calmer look.

He glanced up at you through his thick eyelashes, words dying on his lips as if he was just now seeing you and catching up with his own movements.

You can’t help the small smile that takes over your features. “Sounds like a rough day.” 

He nodded his head in your grasp, his heterochromatic eyes slightly glazed over as they stared up into yours. “Yeah,” he said, voice hoarse. “Rough day. Better now though.”

You tilted your head sideways. “Yeah?”

A slow smile began to emerge. “Yeah.”

[moonyswarmsweaters]

me defending Barty Crouch Jn With my life because he is my murderous babygirl

[asthronauta]

BEST FRIENDS FUCK EACH OTHER│Barty Crouch Jr × Male Reader [NSFW].

Summary: [Y/N] always wanted to fuck his best friend. And Barty wouldn't shut up. He had to do something about it.

Warnings: Sex with no plot, basically. Ftm (trans) male reader, use of words like pussy, clit, pussy lips and basically shameless talking about it. Unprotected sex, Blow job, Fingering, Pussy eating, Cum in mouth, Cum in pussy, Dirty talk, Begging to be filled, Use of the words good boy & bitch, Public kind of thing? Enjoy 😋

Also, [N/N] means nickname. It can be the shorter version of your name or wtv you want.

Btw, english is not my first language so there may be some errors in my writing. I'm still learning!

Barty was so fucking annoying.

Look, Hogwarts was beautiful and magical and huge but the exams were actually terrifying. You did not want to fail an exam. That's why [Y/N] found the most sought-after corner of the library to study. Which was, in fact, the place he always used to pick. A hidden table in the back plus the late hours of the night that occurred were the perfect combination to study without interruptions. Or, that's how it was supposed to be. But Barty fucking Crouch chased him. Which was actually shit because now his secret place wasn't secret anymore and now he'll have to find a new place where he could find some peace and some quiet.

Bartemius Crouch Junior. The most annoying person [Y/N] ever met and also his best friend. Yeah, that's how things worked. In first year Barty used to chase him everywhere and [Y/N] used to hide from him. Well, some things never change. — It was probably three in the morning and [Y/N] was actually worried about his exam, but Barty just wouldn't shut his mouth. It was nothing new but [Y/N] really needed for him to shut the fuck up.

Barty Junior created his own fame. - He knew perfectly well the image people had of him and he revelled in it. He knew the effect he had on people and it inflated his ego in a way he adored. No one escaped it; not even the teachers. Not even [Y/N]. — At first they were children; of course they had no feelings for each other, but as the years went by, the sexual tension grew. Because Barty fucking Crouch was just too hot and the worst thing was that he knew it perfectly well. It was fucking annoying. So [Y/N] really meant it when he blurted-

“If I suck your cock you'll shut the fuck up?”

It was the kind of proposal that if you didn't accept; it was just a joke, but if you did accept..

Barty was sitting in front of him and [Y/N] saw the look on his face when his brain registered what he said. There was a second of silence where Barty looked at him with genuine surprise. Searching in [Y/N] for a trace of it being a lie and when he didn't find it a smirk began to grow on his stupid face. And that was when [Y/N] realized everything went to hell because he was fucking serious and Barty too.

“Is that a bribe?”

The words slipped from his mouth with an air of amusement. [Y/N] had no idea why every word that came out of Barty's mouth made him utterly mad. I mean, they were supposed to be best friends. But every sound Barty made was a reason why [Y/N] wanted to sew his lips together, and that's been happening more often lately. Maybe because Barty was hooking up with more and more people and [Y/N] couldn't stand to have him around anymore. And maybe a 'please shut up' would have worked just right but [Y/N] already walked into the lion's den and oh, Barty wasn't going to let him go.

“Take it as you wish” There was no way [Y/N] was turning back now. Barty would tease him for life if he did. - He was already at the dance; now he had to dance.

Barty looked at him. Smirking. Smirking at [Y/N]'s face cause he knew he already won. “Do it, and I'll stay quiet.”

Yeah, fuck.

•

•

•

[Y/N] wasn't an angel; but he never thought he'd fuck his best friend. I mean, not that it would ever really happen. Because fuck he'd fantasized about that thousand of times. - He was always curious. Can you blame him? He was surrounded by hot people. Anyone in his place would speculate about how his classmates' dicks were like. And Barty dripped with sexual energy. And [Y/N] was just a boy.

Barty was no longer sitting but standing, leaning on the table, looking down at [Y/N] who was kneeling on the library floor. Fuck, what the hell was he doing? he was on his knees about to suck his best friend's cock and he was getting so wet already. And Barty still had all his clothes on. He was literally salivating as he undid Barty's belt - he didn't know he wanted this that much.

Barty didn't say a word. Finally what [Y/N] wanted but fuck he was so nervous he needed Barty to say something stupid. - He had no idea what was going through Bartemius' mind and his own kept going at the speed of light as he undid the zip of Barty's pants, finally catching a glimpse of his underwear. — He was avoiding Barty's eyes but he could tell he was looking at him. At his every move. And he thought he saw a slight, almost invisible blush on the other boy's cheeks.

He was nervous as fuck but Barty didn't have to know that. So when his pants were off [Y/N] was quick to pull down Barty's underwear in one go. And Jesus Christ Barty was big. And hard. So hard it was already standing in front of his face as if his cock was fucking pointing at him. — Fuck, he has a good one [Y/N] bit his lip to prevent that unforgivable phrase from leaving his mouth. - It was thick and looked fucking heavy. His pussy soaked, staining his underwear. He could feel the wetness between his pressed together thighs. As if his body knew that maybe that thing would enter him soon and that made him blush so damn much because fuck he wanted that thing in his pussy-

He took it in his hand, first. He heard the way Barty gasped and how his body tensed and it sent a shiver down his spine. He began to stroke. Up and down. From the tip to the base. His eyes trailing over the tattoo on Barty's hip that ran down to his cock; a snake. Feeling the soft skin on his palm and the veins. Squeezing. Feeling how hard the muscle was. “Yes, just like that” Barty muttered and [Y/N] swallowed the saliva that was gathering in his mouth. He never heard that tone in Barty's voice before and it was doing things to him. — Eventually Barty began to buck his hips against [Y/N]'s hand, fucking that tight, warm grip around his length. [Y/N] was having trouble since he was mesmerized by the scene in front of him so Barty reached down, encircling [Y/N]'s wrist with his hand and keeping his grip still as he fucked it. Barty groaned. [Y/N] could feel the way the muscle tensed and the veins stood out. “Fuck... That's it.. you're good with that little hand of yours” [Y/N] almost groaned at that.

“Barty, fuck” he moaned. Almost pitifully. Because he couldn't believe his best friend was saying those nasty things to him. And he was being a slut for it. There was no words to describe it just fuck. It felt so fucking wrong but also so damn good. — Barty began to move faster. His breathing quickening. As if he wanted to cum. His grip on [Y/N]'s wrist tightened and [Y/N] didn't care to tell him to stop. Because fuck he didn't want him to stop. “Ah, yes, fuck... You're gonna make me cum soon” Barty gasped. [Y/N] sighed. Tempted to rub himself against something because his already soaked pussy was crying out for some attention. He could feel how damn sensitive his clit got.

Barty was close. That thought gave him chills because he could see it. Right in front of him. And it was him who was giving Barty that pleasure. It was him that Barty was so eager for. [Y/N] could see how Barty's swollen, red cocktip bobbed in and out of his fist. Moving tantalizingly closer and then away from his face. He had a close-up of how the tip became wetter and wetter, leaking with precum that eventually ran down to his hand and then to the floor. “Wait” he gasped. Fuck. It must be salty, he thought. He didn't give a fuck. He couldn't let Barty's cum on the floor. It was his; he was causing it. He couldn't let it on the floor. “I want it in my mouth”

“Atta boy” Barty growled and [Y/N] almost came. He leaned down, closing his eyes dreamily before taking the wet tip into his mouth. “Ah, fuck” Barty hissed, feeling every swirl and suck as [Y/N] lapped his precum. One of his hands held tight on the edge of the table while the other found its way to [Y/N]'s hair. Squeezing the strands between his fingers. Getting a proper grip that left the other boy's head immobile; just so Barty could move freely. - He pushed the rest of his cock into that eager mouth. Well-, half. Cause Barty didn't get to sink completely when he felt his cockhead hit the back of [Y/N]'s throat. “Oh yes fuck” Barty gasped, looking down to find [Y/N]'s eyes looking up at him. “Mhm.. this is what you wanted, right?” He hummed as he began to move slowly. Tentatively bumping against the back of [Y/N]'s throat, gradually sinking deeper. “Fuck [N/N], I can't believe I'm fucking your mouth” [Y/N] sighed on Barty's cock at that. The fact that Barty was using his nickname only made him feel guiltier and hornier.

He was trying; relaxing his throat, letting Barty dictate the pace. He didn't want to disappoint him. That morning they were having breakfast with Reg and Evan; as they had been doing for years. Who would have thought that by the end of the day Barty would be fucking his mouth. — [Y/N] closed his eyes; and Barty saw it as a sign to let go. He began to fuck his mouth properly; urging, pushing [Y/N]'s head closer as his hips moved in and out of that wet mouth. “Fuck yes, take it” he hissed, pressing his lips together. Frowning as he felt himself getting closer to cumming in his best friend's mouth. “Fuck [N/N], you're making me fucking close for you, fuck... ” he was trying to keep his voice down; although the library was empty the place echoed and maybe a fucking prefect would come to spoil his little fun here. “Yes.. you like that, don't you? Having me deep into that pretty little mouth of yours,” He looked down, only to chuckle when he saw [Y/N]'s helpless face as he choked on his cock. “Fuck, look at you... I didn't know you were such a slut for my cock, [N/N].”

He began to pound, holding [Y/N]'s head with both hands as he hit the back of his throat over and over. His balls hitting [Y/N]'s chin every time. “Fuck [N/N] I'm cumming inside your mouth-” Barty cried before he came. Moaning as he pressed [Y/N]'s head hard against his pelvis. Squeezing his locks as he began to feel the spurts coming out, hitting the back of [Y/N]'s throat as he filled his mouth up. “Oh yes oh fuck” he cried as he stayed still. Letting every drop out deep into [N/N]'s mouth.

Barty's cock slipped out [Y/N]'s soaked, swollen lips only when he made sure [Y/N] swallowed it all. [N/N] coughed, gasping for air. Drool dripping down his chin. Eyes tearing and the messiest Barty had ever seen him. Barty came in his mouth. Barty came in his mouth and he swallowed it all as the slut he was for his thick cock. He couldn't believe he just did that. He couldn't believe he let things go to hell like that. What the fuck did he just do? There was no turning back after this. His friendship with Barty would never be the same again.

“Fucking hell [N/N]” Barty chuckled. Triumphant smile on his face. As if he didn't give a damn about what just happened. “I didn't know you had such a dirty little mouth there, fuck.. I came so hard for you” he grabbed his spend cock shamelessly. Stroking it lazily as he stared at [Y/N]'s helpless form. Trying to catch his breath. A sticky mess between his legs. Barty's smile grew bigger. “Now what's up, [N/N]? Did the mice eat your tongue? It was me the one supposed to keep quiet”

“Shut up Barty”

“That's my boy” Barty approved as he watched [Y/N] stand back up, Barty quickly wrapping an arm around his lower back and pulling him into a hungry kiss. Saliva, tongue, teeth and the salty taste of Barty's cum in between. Muffled moans from both of them and Barty's thick snake pressing against [Y/N]. “Barty” [Y/N] moaned against his mouth. Not stopping kissing for a second. His arms wrapped helplessly around Barty's neck while his were wrapped around [Y/N] as well. “Ah- Barty-” He gasped his name like a mantra. Unable to believe what that name meant now; the name of the man he was so eager for. The man he needed so bad. No longer the name of his best friend but the name of the person he wanted to be pounded dumb by on the library table. “Barty please-”

“What do you want baby?” Barty muttered against his mouth. Tight grip on the other boy's waist. “Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you”

“Want you-” He gasped. Barty's mouth was too good to let go. “Want you in my pussy Barty please fuck me.”

[Y/N] felt the vibration against his mouth as Barty groaned deeply. As if those words awakened something wild in him. “You want that?” He tested, speaking between kisses. Catching the other's lip between his teeth. “Mhmm, I can do that for you, baby, but you have to promise me something” He pulled away to look at him. Green eyes dark, deep. He cupped [Y/N]'s face with one hand; it wasn't tender, it was rather possessive. Firm. Squeezing his cheeks. “Once I get into that tight little pussy of yours, there won't be turning back, baby” he said, shaking his head as he spoke “I won't stop 'til I cum deep inside. Nowhere else, yeah? Just deep inside your pussy. Is that alright? Are you okay with that?”

And how could he refuse such a generous offer?

He nodded. Heart eyes on Barty. “That's a good boy” he said, letting go of him “Now be a sweetheart and bent over on the table for me. I want to pound that slutty pussy from behind” [N/N] did. Because at this point he would do anything for Barty. — Barty pushed his pants down carelessly. Baring [Y/N]'s ass and needy pussy to the air. “Oh, look at that” Barty mockered, [Y/N]'s face turned red. “You're leaking wet for me [N/N]” Barty's hand shamelessly wandered down there and tested the slit, his fingertips gliding easily over the lubricated area. [Y/N]'s whole body trembled. Letting out a shaky, needy gasp. Barty didn't stop. Tracing up and down until suddenly pushing one finger inside. “Holly shit” Barty cursed over [Y/N]'s moan because he took that finger way too fucking good. Sliding in easily like a wet, slick little mouth - his cock spasmed with interest. “Fucking shit [N/N] you took that finger so fucking good baby” he praised, feeling how [N/N] throbbed and squeezed around his finger “You're a wet little bitch, aren't you?” he purred. Biting his lip as he moved his finger in and out, watching as [Y/N]'s wetness soaked his ring. Getting out of him those tiny little moans he liked. He slipped out; sucking his finger clean. “Mhm, that cherry tastes good” he hummed. So damn naughty. [Y/N]'s face was bright red and he couldn't do anything but let Barty use his body. “Need to have a taste of that before going in, don't you think?”

[Y/N] could hear the smirk on Barty's face; he didn't need to see him. He was about to turn to look as him but he didn't manage to when he felt Barty's face buried deep in his ass. Tongue lapping at his pussy juices. He moaned, a moan that echoed in the empty library and stirred the candlelight. His head abruptly turning forward again. Staring into nothingness as he felt Barty devour him. “Barty-!” his gasp died in a shaky cry, feeling how Barty fucking Crouch caught his pussy lips between his lips. Sucking them. Gently biting them— He was in heaven, with the stars and the moon. Barty was eating him like he meant it. Tongue moving everywhere. Lapping at his sloppy hole, guitar-playing with his clit. He could fucking feel the metal of Barty's tongue piercing on his pussy and he was about to-

Barty pulled away. [Y/N] almost cried at that. He was about to protest when he suddenly felt Barty's thick, wet tip resting against his hole. “Barty-” he gasped. Okay, this was really happening. “I'm going to fuck you” Barty groaned. An statement; not a question. [Y/N] sighed almost in fear. Barty was there; just one move away from penetrating him and fucking him bareback. Of crossing a line from which they could not return. — Barty was holding his heavy cock aligned with [Y/N]'s helpless pussy hole. Stroking it. His other hand teasing his balls lightly. He was fully hard again already. Leaking. [Y/N] could feel the swollen tip pressing just a tiny bit in. He fucking mewled. Barty's leaking cockhead was splitting his tender lips apart. He needed him inside.

“Barty- Barty please, you're killing–”

The words choked in his throat as Barty plunged his cock all the way in.

“Fucking take it” [Y/N] let out a pitiful moan. Almost a whimper. As Barty took a hold of his hips. Starting to roll his almost desperately from the start. “Oh you fucking tight bitch you're squeezing me like crazy” Barty groaned, pounding. His balls slapping against [Y/N]'s untouched clit. [Y/N] was speechless. Not even moaning at first as he felt the slight burn and huge presence of Barty in his pussy. His legs were weak - it was thick. So thick. He could feel it stretching him so much he couldn't help but clench around it. Barty was being so damn rough; no mercy for his tender pussy that was taking him so deep. “Yes-” [Y/N]'s little moan went unnoticed under the thuds that echoed through the place.

“You're not letting me go, are you? Fuck, you're slick as hell baby-” Barty moaned. Biting his lip as he threw his head back. Closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of fucking that small, slippery pussy for a second. Barty knew he was big but [Y/N] was fucking tight. Squeezing his cock like he wanted to fucking suffocate him. A tiny, slippery tunnel that Barty was ravaging. “Fuck, look at us” he said, looking back down to see how [N/N]'s pussy hole was stretched open around his thick cock. Swallowing it all like the good boy he was. Letting Barty go balls deep with every plunge. “You're taking me so good baby fuck you were made for me [N/N]” He licked his lips, saliva leaking from his mouth. His eyes locked on their union. On the way his cock moved in and out of that welcoming cunt. “Fuck, I can't believe I'm fucking your pussy” he shivered, thrusts getting messier. “Fuck [N/N] I'm fucking fucking you.- fuck” Barty leaned down. Pressing his chest on [Y/N]'s back as he pounded deeper. One hand palm open on the table and the other holding tightly to [Y/N]'s hip. Keeping him in place. - His lips searched for [Y/N]'s lips with closed eyes and found them. Tongues dancing as Barty didn't stop his rhythm.

“So good” Barty gasped “Fuck, so good. Your pussys so good” he hummed against [Y/N]'s ear, pounding impossibly deep and hard. Getting little 'ah, ah, ah's out of [Y/N] with every thrust. “Barty-” “[N/N]” Barty moaned back as he pounded against [Y/N]'s arched back. Holding him impossibly close. “Beg for me baby, beg for my cock” he moaned helplessly, leaning down to nip and suck at [Y/N]'s neck as he relentlessly pounded into him.

“Barty please” He blurted messily. Feeling like his clit rubbed against the edge of the table. Swollen and unattended. But he wasn't going to touch it. His clit was burning with need but he wanted to cum just from Barty's cock alone. And he was close already. He could feel it. And he could also feel Barty's cock throbbing and leaking inside. He was going to come. “Please- Inside. Not pulling out, fuck, Barty. Please fill me up-”

Barty let out a low, dark chuckle from the back of his throat against the skin of [Y/N]'s neck. Pulling away. Standing again as he looked down at him. “You want every last bit of me inside that cute little hungry pussy of yours, don't you?” he asked with a low, dangerous tone. Hands gripping [Y/N]'s waist almost painfully as he began to hammer again. “You'll have it.. mhmm fuck yes I'm cumming inside you”

“Oh god fucking thank you,” [Y/N] cried. Legs shaking as he was so damn close.

“Oh yes that's a good boy, you like having your best friend's cock pounding your pussy don't you? Fuck I'm coming-” Barty gasped. He was a mess. He could feel his swollen tip hitting the bottom of [Y/N]'s insides and it was just too much. He squeezed [Y/N] tight as he began to pound fucking deep. The table shaking. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, baby, baby I'm coming- oh, oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck-” Barty moaned pitifully before burying himself all the way in. As deep as he could go. His body pressed against [Y/N]'s. “Inside-” he managed to cry as he began to unload. Thick, heavy spurts of creamy babies began to shoot out with each spasm of his cock, deep inside that pussy. “Oh shit” he whimpered as if he was in pain; body tense and stiff as his thick load was planted. Letting out a muffled moan the moment he felt [Y/N] cumming just as his cum began to fill him. Milking him.

The moment Barty finished unloading his body fell exhausted on top of [Y/N]. Breathing hard against the skin of his back. Where he planted a kiss when he finally caught his breath. “...Fuck”

“Fuck indeed” [Y/N] sighed. Finally regaining his voice after a while. Both their chests rose and fell, having exhausted all their stamina. Especially Barty who could feel himself getting flaccid inside [Y/N]'s slippery hole.

“I came... so fucking hard” Barty mumbled. Hands still on [Y/N]'s waist. Holding him firmly close. As if he wanted to cuddle. He was a big baby. [Y/N] rolled his eyes.

“Me too” he shifted a little. Feeling all the stuffing that Barty just pumped into him.

“We should do this every day, [N/N]” Barty chuckled a little. Humming after. His cock tender and soft now. Letting the liquid drip down his balls and [Y/N]'s thighs. Cheek still pressed against [Y/N]'s back. “...I think I may love you”

“Fuck... shut up, Barty.” Barty pouted.

[valoflunar]

obsessed over bartylily a bit too hard now im making an intensely detailed 10 slide slideshow for them

[orchideous-nox]

knee deep - Rosekiller Casual fic (chapter 2)

Here we go, chapter 2 is finally up and running. Please make sure to read the author's note at the end (not the Regulussies stuff, the bit after that)

As usual, check tags although there is nothing new in this chapter that would be triggering really except all the same stuff from chapter 1, and strap in for some more Casual angst < 3

[genderflouiid]

speaking my truth

[tyyjaimiee]

Sunkiller.

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

hiii <33

first i want to say that i absolutely ADORE your page on here, your writing is just wow, perfection!! i really liked your sirius story (even tho i strayed off a bit and started liking rabastan too ahahahah-) it's amazing omg

and i was wondering would you be up for writing for barty? anything with him honestly lol, but if you don't have any ideas feel free to ignore this!

SAY LESSSSSSS (I've been dying for someone to request Barty or rosekiller pls send all the requests). Also! so glad you enjoyed that fic! (I played myself and kinda fell for Rab too 😬)

I Wanna Be Yours | BCJ

feat. Barty Crouch Jr. x blackcat!reader

SUMMARY: Barty is determined to win your affection, but due to his larger-than-life personality and your aloof nature, you find it difficult to trust his intentions.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, pov switches once, a little angst and a little fluff, blackcat!reader, artist!Barty, only soft for each other, mentions of drinking and drug use, strong language, sort of insecure!reader, Barty is a giant simp

AN: i'm having my scene music renaissance, and something about that era is so Barty-coded. I have a few other songs that suit him in my mind, but I'd love to hear any ideas you guys might have!

masterlist

“Honestly, I don't know what Slughorn’s problem is. If I want to make a love potion that makes Xeno hard for four days, I can—”

“Four days and I would die of deprivation,” Xenophilius chuckled, his arm draped over Pandora's shoulders.

“Sure, but what a way to go.”

You walked beside them, half-listening to their sugar-dipped conversation, equal parts disgusted and deeply jealous. You'd never admit it, but you so badly wanted what your best friend had. Devotion, affection, complete and total acceptance. But you walked through life like a spring-loaded trap, biting the fingers off anyone that dared come close.

“Should we grab dinner before heading to the library? I'm starved,” Pandora said, turning her attention to you.

“Sure, it's probably quiet this early anyways—”

“Going to dinner, are we?” Evan bound up between Xeno and Pandora, throwing his arms over their shoulders. “I'm fucking ravenous.”

Two arms looped around your waist, hauling you back into a solid chest. The familiar scent of clove cigarettes and paint enveloped you, as if you needed any clues to know exactly who had the audacity to handle you so boldy.

“As am I,” Barty purred against the shell of your ear.

You wriggled in his hold, slapping at his forearms until he released you. “Not in the mood, Junior,” you warned, ignoring the way your stomach flipped when you met his dark eyes, eyeliner smudged along his lashes.

“Aw, don't be cross, gorgeous. You looked like you needed a hug,” he teased, falling into step between you and Pandora, slowing his natural gait considerably. He snatched your books from your arms, ignoring your protest and cradling them against his chest. He was dressed in a white dress shirt and a Slytherin vest, his tie loose and sleeves pushed up, hand-poked tattoos sprawling and dark against his forearms.

“I'm fairly certain she needs a hug as much as she needs your dumbass in her space,” Pandora said, rolling her eyes. “Which is not at all.”

“Oh, she needs me.” Barty grinned. “She just doesn't know it yet.”

“Give it a rest, Crouch,” Xeno cut in. “Keep pushing her and you'll end up on the bottom of the Black Lake.”

“Oh, how exciting! How will you do it, treasure? Stabbing? Maiming? Choking? Oh Merlin’s fuck, please say choking—”

“Maiming sounds about right,” you bit, attempting to get your books back, but he was far too tall, holding them way above your head. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of jumping for it, and crossed your arms over your chest with a huff.

“You can maim me whenever you like,” he said, a cheeky smirk on his stupid, handsome face. “Will you do it now if I ask nicely?”

You ignored him, looking forward again.

Barty Crouch Jr. loved nothing more than fucking with you, finding the gaps in your armor and trying to pry them open. But no matter how attractive you found him, because saints was he attractive, or how endearing he could be in the in-between moments, you refused to play his game.

You would not be made a fool of, not like every other person he set his sights on and got bored with a week later.

“So are we eating or what?” Evan asked, walking backwards at the front of the group. Any student unfortunate enough to be in his path quickly scurried out of it, cowed by the Slytherin's reputation for retaliation.

You watched them shrink away from Barty too, who clearly got some sick sense of pleasure from it. He even bared his teeth at a Gryffindor that veered to close to you, flipping your bodies around so he was on the outside and you were next to Pandora again.

“I'm actually going to head back to the dorm,” you said, slowing so you fell out of line with them. “See you later?” You said to Pandora, who gave you a tight frown.

“Are you sure?” She asked, tilting her head like an avian.

“Yeah, you guys enjoy,” you said, pretending you didn't see the disappointment flash across Barty’s face as you turned on your heel, letting the opposite flow of students sweep you up and away from your friends.

The truth was, Barty scared the shit out of you. He was everything you weren't: outgoing, bold, rebellious, and just charming enough to get himself out of whatever mess he and Evan made. And for whatever reason, he was obsessed with pushing your buttons. And he did, with infuriating efficiency.

Pandora insisted it was all in good fun, that he was harmless, but you knew better. You saw the way he manipulated others to get what he wanted, the way he masked his calculation with charisma.

Barty Crouch Jr. was far from harmless, and even if he had his friends fooled, he would not fool you.

Barty's POV

Barty watched your head bob away through the crowded corridor, your books still heavy in his arms and guilt gnawing a hole in his chest.

Why couldn't he just fucking control himself? He felt like a noxious ball of energy, filling whatever available space he could, unable to contain his own impulses, a slave to his own existence.

He just wanted you so badly. You occupied every part of his mind, owned every thump of his wretched, ruined heart. He was irrevocably, intrinsically yours, but you couldn't stand him, and it was largely his own damn fault.

Because he was broken. Couldn't hold a normal conversation. Couldn't flirt in a way that wasn't deeply vulnerable, or obscene and intense. For Merlin’s sake, he'd begged you to choke him just now.

You were a fix he couldn't get, so he was suffering withdrawals from a drug he never had. He was going mad with it, the desperation for your attention. He would do anything to hear you say his name, to occupy an ounce of space in that beautiful brain, even if meant looking like an idiot. Like a psycho.

It was worth it just to have you look.

After dinner, the four of them returned to the Slytherin common room, Barty still carrying your books with a wrapped bundle on top. Every step towards your shared dorm with Pandora made his heart beat faster, a nervous sweat collecting along his spine.

Nothing made him nervous like you did.

Barty walked into the room last, his eyes immediately drifting towards your bed even though he tried to resist. You were curled up against a pile of pillows, surrounded by parchment and open books, your quill scribbling furiously across the page in your lap.

You glanced up when they entered, meeting his eyes for a split second, low-lidded and disinterested, per usual, and turned your attention back to your work.

The dismissal itched like a bug under his skin, his blood going hot and tingly. He needed you to look at him again.

He set your books on your desk and kicked off his shoes, flopping onto your bed before he really thought about it. It was softer than his, covered with quilts and pillows, and he noticed a little stuffed cat tucked away under your covers. He could smell you all around him, so sweet and warm, and whatever rationality he had left dissolved into goo.

“Who invited you?” You snapped, shoving at his shoulder with little success. A swell of affection at your pitiful attempt made his heart beat quicken, you were just so fucking cute.

He set the paper bundle on your chest. “Thought you might be hungry, sweetness,” he said, hugging one of your pillows to his chest.

Merlin, you were so beautiful when you glared at him like that. He filed the image away for later, mentally sifting through his paint collection for the perfect shade to match your pout.

You looked a bit perplexed at the package, almost angry, and his anxiety returned, fighting through the haze caused by your proximity. “You brought me food?”

He nodded, biting back ‘and dessert too’. He wanted you to actually eat the food, not throw it at his head.

Hesitantly, you unfolded the bundle, as if he'd given you something rotten, or was pulling a prank. It made his lungs squeeze with guilt. He was shitty to a lot of people, most people. But not to you, never you.

Your brow softened with relief when you realized it was just a sandwich, before quickly furrowing again. He wanted to smooth it with his lips, kiss you until it never creased with worry again.

“I'm not hungry,” you said, setting the bag on the side table. A twinge of hurt stabbed between his ribs, but didn't let his smile falter. He knew that's what you would say. And he also knew you would eat it later, when no one was around to see you accept a small gesture of kindness.

That was good enough for him.

You slid out of your bed, leaving his side cold, and he stretched out against your sheets, wallowing in your residual warmth like a niffler in a pile of gold.

The others chatted around you, Xeno lighting up a joint by the cracked window, but you sat down at your desk, turning back to your work and tuning them out.

Barty sighed, letting his eyes flutter closed so he could pretend he was wrapped in you body instead of your sheets, his nose buried into your hair instead of your pillow.

Reader's POV

You and Pandora walked arm in arm into the library, chatting about the idiots in your Transfiguration class. You were headed to your usual spot at the back of library, a collection of over stuffed chairs by a stained glass window overlooking the Forbidden Forest, and stopped short when you saw Regulus, Evan, and Barty already there.

Barty was reclined in the window, his long legs propped up against the other side, a sketchbook in his lap, quill between his teeth.

“Excuse the hell out of me,” Pandora said, startling them all from their abnormal quiet.

Barty's head snapped up, his eyes immediately landing on you, and he about fell out of the window.

“What? Like you own this table?” Evan drawled, not looking up from his book,his expensive loafers propped up on the table.

“Yes,” Pandora shot back, dropping down beside him and pulling out her books with clear agitation. "So if you're staying, keep your mouth shut."

Evan mimed zipping his lips and crossed his heart. Barty just turned back to his sketchbook instead of sauntering over to you with some cheeky quip on his tongue.

A prickle of uncertainty climbed your neck. Perhaps you really had upset him about that sandwich. You wish you hadn't said you were hungry as soon as it came out of your mouth, but you were too proud to apologize. You were so stunned by the gesture, so overwhelmed by his body pressed against you, his warmth mixing with yours, that you clammed up. Shut him down.

But even now, you couldn't bring yourself to approach him and apologize. Thank him. So, you sat down beside Regulus, the only other member of the group you found tolerable most of the time, and he greeted you with a dip of his chin.

You pulled out your work, determined to pretend Barty wasn't there at all.

Of course, you failed. Your eye kept wandering back to him, his sharp jaw silhouetted by the light, his pierced brow furrowed in concentration as his hand moved across the page, silver rings adorning ink stained fingers. He was dressed down today, jeans and Slytherin sweater, the collar of his shirt underneath it crooked.

After an hour or so of quiet, he dozed off, his head lolled against the window, quill dangling loosely in his fingers. Barty did that a lot, slept in unusual places at unusual times when the quiet dragged on a little too long. Evan mentioned once that Barty struggled to sleep at night, insomnia or something, and even the draughts Madam Pomfry made him only worked sometimes.

Unable to quell your curiosity, you got up to retrieve another book, brushing past him and sparing a glance down at his sketchbook. Your own face stared back at you, framed with rough sketches of your hands, your eyes, the bow of your lips.

Your heart gave a painful lurch, a burst of affection making your bones soften, and you nearly stumbled over the carpet, catching yourself on the bookshelf at the last second.

You hurried down another row, praying none of your friends saw you, and braced yourself against the shelf.

Did Barty like you? Like, actually like you? You couldn't fathom it. It didn't make sense. You weren't kind to him, or outgoing, or special. He was all of those things and more, the most fascinating, maddening, all-consuming person you'd ever met in your life.

Surely, he didn't see all of those things in you? But why would he draw you if he didn't see something of interest? Something he liked?

Fuck, you couldn't breathe in this stuffy library. You needed air.

You steeled yourself and walked back to the table, collecting your things.

“Something wrong, y/n?” Regulus asked, always too perceptive, and Barty stirred, picking his head up from the wall to peer at you through drowsy eyes.

“Nothing, I—”

Barty slid off the window and you lost your train of thought, heat scorching your cheeks. “Rushing off to hang out with your more interesting friends?” Barty asked, his voice a little gruff from his brief nap.

“More interesting friends? Not at Hogwarts,” Evan chuckled. “We're as interesting as it gets.”

“If you're bored, babygirl, all you had to was say so,” Barty hummed, striding up to you.

You placed a hand on his sternum to stop him from coming any closer, ignoring the flare of heat that accompanied the contact. “You were asleep five seconds ago,” you argued.

“Asleep and dreaming of all the ways I could keep you entertained.” He grinned, wicked and sharp, and the simmering heat spread to your lower belly, your heart beating fast.

“What are you, a fucking court jester?” You bit, unable to stop your arm bending as he pushed closer, the smell of ink and his cologne making your mouth water.

“I'm whatever you want me to be,” he flirted, and Regulus and Pandora groaned in unison.

“Will you leave her the fuck alone?” Regulus snapped, tugging Barty back by a belt loop. “She's not interested in your act, Junior.”

“Act?” Barty quirked a brow. “I’m dead serious.”

“Don't talk about his brother that way!” Evan shouted, far too excited to make the over-used joke once again, and you rolled your eyes. Apparently, the rare quiet time had come to an end.

“I don't give a fuck about his brother!”

“I don't give a fuck about you!”

“Oh, so you're a bitch and a liar?”

“I'm not a bitch, you cunt!”

“I'll see you guys at the party later,” you said, using their bickering as your window of escape. You all but fled the library, desperate for some fresh air and clarity.

If Barty sincerely liked you…did that change anything? Was there a way to know for sure how he felt? You didn't even know how you felt, not really. You'd never let yourself really consider it for fear of inevitable disappointment.

Sure, you found him attractive, everyone did. And yes, despite yourself you thought he was funny and sweet, in his own, odd way. And he was especially sweet to you. He never brought your other friends food, or waited for them after class, or snuggled in their beds. Well, besides Evan.

He didn't really touch anyone else either. But if you were close enough, as he often ensured you were, he was touching you whenever he could. Knocked together knees in the Great Hall, leaning on you during class no matter how many times you shoved him off, throwing his arms over your shoulder when it was cold, wrapping his pinky around yours in a particularly crowded hall.

Yes, his words were often obnoxious and bordering on insane, but his actions…his actions were sincere, thoughtful, almost tender.

Was that the real Barty?

Maybe you had been fooled just like everyone else into thinking he was nothing more than a joker, a rowdy troublemaker, when the reality was so much deeper.

Had you been all wrong about him?

By the time you and Pandora left your dorm room to join the party, the common room was a madhouse. Green lights flashed in time with the thumping bass, bodies dancing and mingling in every available spot on the dancefloor, a haze of smoke and glitter over their heads.

You were wearing a black mini dress and heels, held together by string and a prayer. Your hair hung in loose waves down your back, your eyeliner sharp and lips painted. You knew you looked good, lethal in the best way, but all you could think about was Barty's reaction.

Would he like it? Hate it? Or even worse, not even notice?

Together, you and Pandora moved through the crowd towards your friends usual place at the far side of the common room.

Of course, you spotted Barty first. He was leaning against the bar, dressed in all black, tailored trousers and a sleeveless undershirt. Apparently he ditched his actual shirt before you arrived in favor of displaying his countless tattoos, most of them done by his own hand. His hair was dark with pomade and pushed off of his face, glitter clinging to the sweat along his lean chest and shoulders.

He looked like a wet fucking dream.

Xeno let out a low whistle when you and Pandora stepped out from the crowd, drawing Barty's attention from Evan and Dorcas.

His jaw dropped instantly and with a dramatic flourish, he pretended to faint into Evan's arms, clutching at his heart. Despite yourself, you giggled, and Pandora shot you a surprised look through a gap in her boyfriends embrace.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Barty gasped, sliding out of Evan's arms and onto his knees. “Look at—baby, look at you!”

You flushed under the attention, your blood heating as it raced through your veins, but you just rolled your eyes at him, a new confidence blooming in your chest. He loved it.

You strode over to the bar, closing his mouth with a finger, and leaned against the counter. “Firewhisky?” You asked the student bartending, and they stared back at you, dumbstruck, before rushing to collect your drink.

Barty leaned against your legs, his cheek against your thigh. “What are you doing to me?” He whined up at you, feeding into your surge of confidence.

You pushed his head away, tugging at the roots of his hair before releasing him, and he groaned, a low, panty-melting sound. “I'm not doing anything. You're just insufferable,” you chastised, accepting your drink.

“And you're beautiful,” he said, sounding almost reverent, and you nearly choked on your drink.

“Fuck off and drool on someone else, yeah?” You snapped, overwhelmed by his candor, even though it was exactly what you thought you wanted.

Fuck, you didn't know what you wanted. And even when you did, it seemed your subconscious wasn't always in agreement. You had wanted him to drool over you. He was literally on his knees, but some broken part of your brain couldn’t accept it. So you pushed him away.

“C’mon, you simpering mutt,” Evan said, hauling Barty up. “I think I saw a kegger over there.”

Barty started to protest, but Evan and Regulus dragged him away.

“You should have some mercy,” Xeno said, leaning on the bar beside you.

“Oh?” You raised a brow at him, taking a sip of whisky.

“Poor prick is besotted,” Dorcas supplied.

“He's full of shit,” you bit, that panicky feeling crawling up your spine.

Pandora shook her head, and your eyes widened. “It's true, I’ve never seen him so fucked up over someone before.”

“He's not the obsessive type. Not when it comes to dating, at least. He loses interest as often as he changes his underwear. But he's been stuck on you for months,” Dorcas said.

“Yeah, he usually obsesses over like quill tips, and arson—”

“You guys are serious?” You asked, cutting off Xeno. “You think he actually likes me?”

They all stare at you, dumbfounded.

“You can't tell?” Pandora asked, grabbing your face and shaking you. “Babe, he's absolutely gone for you.”

“Like, gone gone,” Dorcas added.

“But it's Barty, I mean—he’s never serious—”

“Exactly, that's what makes it so obvious!” Pandora cried, exasperated. “I thought you knew!”

“Why would you think that!” You shouted back.

“Because he says it constantly!” Your friends yell in unison.

“He was on his knees, y/n. Like literally on his knees,” Xeno said, shaking his head. “It doesn't get much more devoted than that.”

Devoted. It clicked then, the signs you'd been brushing off, refusing to see clearly because of your own veil of distrust. Because you didn’t allow yourself to accept the truth out of fear. Barty had been showing you for months how he felt, and not just in his words, in his actions. Bringing you food when you were hungry, walking you from class to class, meeting your barbs and verbal lashes with a smile.

He’d been wearing his heart on his sleeve this entire time, and all you’d done is punish him for it.

Oh, fuck. How could you be so blind?

You set your drink on the bar and pushed through your friends, ignoring their calls as you forced your way through the crowd, searching for Barty in the sea of green. You found him standing with Evan and few other members of the Quidditch team, cheering while a fifth year shotgunned a dandelion draught.

“Barty!” You shouted over the roar, grabbing his wrist.

He turned, his eyes widening in surprise. “Y/n? Are you alr—where are we going?”

You dragged him into a shadowed alcove, slightly hidden from the party. Your heart was pounding in your ears, tears already burning behind your eyes. “Be honest with me,” you said, forcing yourself to hold his gaze.

“Always,” he said automatically, brow heavy with uncertainty.

“How do you feel about me?” You asked.

Understanding dawned, and Barty's expression melted into something painfully soft, painfully sincere. “I just wanna be yours.”

The admission stole the air from your lungs, made your heart freeze in place. "M-mine?"

“Yours,” he breathed, his hands finding your waist, grip tight as desperation filled his eyes. “Please, let me be yours.” He lowered to his knees again, his head by your navel. “I promise—I promise I’ll be good, if you’ll just give me a chance too—”

You leaned down and grabbed the silver chain around his throat like a collar, dragging his mouth to yours in a fervid, frantic kiss. He surged upwards, lifting you into the air and crushing you between his body and the wall, forcing air out of your lungs. You wrapped your legs around his narrow hips as his tongue pried open your mouth, desperate to taste you. Desire pumped through you, scalding hot and more potent than the whisky, making your head spin, your skin tingle.

You tugged at his hair, drawing him closer, and he whimpered low in his throat. Your cunt clenched at the sound, your thoughts turning singular: make him beg. Your tongue traced his lips, tasting beer and cigarette smoke, and you sucked his lower lip between your teeth, biting hard before soothing it with your tongue.

His hips canted up into your core, his hands moving down to squeeze your ass beneath your dress and grind your core against him. You gasped, breaking the kiss for a moment, and he seized the opportunity to pillage your mouth again, licking at your teeth and the roof of your mouth.

“Your dorm,” you panted, yanking his head back by the roots of his hair.

He didn’t hesitate, throwing you up and over his shoulder in a startling feat of strength.

“Barty!” you squealed, giggling and slapping at his back while he carried you to the stairs, his hand keeping your dress in place so you didn’t flash anyone. He couldn’t have made it any more obvious what was happening, and you found that you didn’t care. If you were going to be with Barty, you were going to have to get used to being loved out loud.

“Look at her ass again, see what happens!” You heard him bark, his voice a rumble through his ribcage, and you rolled your eyes, smiling to yourself as he carried you up the stairs.

A moment later, you were being tossed roughly onto his bed, the door slamming shut with a muttered alohomora. Barty crawled up your body, his dark eyes flashing with a feral hunger that made your pussy purr, and he dove into your neck with his teeth and tongue, making you gasp and arch into his body, your whole body alight with pleasure.

“Easy, baby,” you cooed, petting his hair to try and settle his frantic affection. Poor thing couldn’t seem to control himself, so worked up he was rutting against your thigh. “I’m not going anywhere, darling, relax.”

He whined into your neck, clutching at the fat of your lovehandles. “Need you so bad,” he groaned. “M��sorry, can’t help myself.”

You rolled over him, straddling his hips with yours. “I know, love. Just sit still and be good for me, yeah?”

He nodded vigorously, watching you kiss down his body with heavy-lidded eyes. You pushed up the hem of his undershirt, licking a stripe between the valley of his abdomen muscles, admiring the tattoos you’d only gotten glimpses of.

“So pretty, Bat,” you purred, and felt his cock twitch against your chest, his head falling back against the pillows. “Been wanting me this whole time?”

“Yes, so badly—fuck, treasure, please—” he moaned when you grazed your teeth along his hipbone, sucking the skin into your mouth to leave a mark. His hand tangled in your hair, rings cool against your scalp, and you released his skin with a pop, admiring the plum-colored bruise left behind. “I’m getting that tattooed,” he panted, dragging a thumb over your spit slick lips. “Swear to Salazar.”

You giggled, shifting further down to undo his trousers and finding that he apparently skipped boxers. His cock sprung out to slap against this stomach, rigid and flushed, a bead of pearly precum dripping down to his navel. Gently, you traced a finger over the protruding veins along his shaft, admiring him.

Barty hissed through his teeth, his muscles tensing to keep still.

“Good boy,” you praised, wrapping your hand loosely around him, pumping once, twice without any real pressure. He was long and slightly curved, gorgeous, and you couldn’t resist dragging your tongue up the root of him, feeling the velvety texture against your lips.

“Fucking shit, you’re going to kill me.” His fingers tightened in your hair as you lapped at the head, savoring the salty taste of him.

You looked up at him through your lashes, his head thrown back, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths, every muscle flexed tight. Fighting for his life to hold still.

“Baby,” he whined when you stopped, picking up his head to look down at you.

“Say your mine,” you ordered, hovering just over his cock, holding his wild-eyed gaze.

“I’m yours. I’m so fucking yours.”

You smiled and wrapped your lips around him, swallowing down as much of him as you could manage and he cried out, rough and breathless with relief. You bobbed up and down on his length, tongue pressing against the root of his cock and using your hand to stroke what you couldn’t reach, and you watched his soul leave his body.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he chanted, using your hair to lift and lower you a little faster, his control starting to falter as you pulled him apart. “Bloody hell, you’re way too good at this. What the fuck—oh saints. Your mouth feels like fucking heaven.”

You hummed in response, letting him push you further down, gagging on his length before he released you and you pulled off of him to catch your breath, a trail of drool connecting your lips and his head.

Barty groaned. “Never mind, I’m getting that tattooed. Right on my fucking forehead so every time I look in the mirror—”

You climbed back up his body and draped yourself over him, silencing him with a sloppy kiss, his tongue laving across your lips to taste himself. “Do you ever stop talking?” you teased, kissing the corner of his mouth, his cheekbone, his temple.

In a quick movement, he flipped you beneath him. “There’s one sure-fire way to shut me up,” he purred against your ear before kissing and licking down your neck and chest. Every pass of his lips was electric, a bolt of pleasure straight your weeping pussy, swollen against your panties and desperate for attention. “This dress,” he murmured, tracing the swell of your breast with his tongue. “Wear it for anyone in particular?”

“I wanted to see your reaction,” you admitted, gasping when his big hand came up to knead your tit, fingertips still a little stained from sketching. His rings were harsh against your skin, and you arched into him, relishing in his greedy touch.

“Sent me to my knees, sweetheart. Damn near killed me.” He pulled the top of you dress down, your tits spilling free, and he took one pert nipple into his mouth, lashing it with his tongue while he teased the other with his hand.

You keened, hands flying into his shaggy hair. Every pull of his mouth went straight to your cunt, making your hips buck against his thigh. He shifted to press his leg harder against you, letting you chase your pleasure, and hummed in approval against your chest.

The friction was amazing, buzzy heat spilling under your skin and making you moan and cling tighter to him, trembling with unspent energy. “Fuck, Barty—please.” You weren’t sure what you were begging for, but he seemed to understand you perfectly.

“Say your mine, treasure,” he said, biting at the side of your breast, and you yelped.

“Yes, Barty! All yours! Just please—”

He pushed two fingers into your mouth, silencing you while he shifted down your body. Without warning, he buried his face between your legs, licking and sucking at your pussy through your panties with an eagerness that made your eyes cross, your teeth sink down on his digits.

“So fucking sweet, baby. Melting like sugar f’me.” He yanked your panties down your legs and returned to his feasting, laving his long tongue through you before sucking hard at you clit. He slipped his fingers from your mouth, needing both hands to spread you open for his consumption.

Your mind was wiped clean, erased completely by all-consuming bliss as he practically mauled your pussy, vicious in his pursuit of your pleasure. His tongue fucked into you, the slurping loud and lewd, while he massaged your clit with his thumb. You dug your nails into his sheets, trying to stifle your screams into his pillow.

"So responsive, baby. Ready for more?" He asked, easing his middle finger inside of your clenching channel, curling against the gooey spot behind your pelvic bone that made you melt into the mattress. Adding a second finger, he started nursing your clit again, letting his dexterous artist’s fingers coax you open.

Once you were moaning, loose and languid against the mattress, he ramped back up, working your g-spot like it stole something from him he was hellbent on getting back. He dragged his teeth against your clit, soothing the flare of pain with his tongue, and you felt yourself draw tight, teetering on the edge of oblivion.

“Barty—oh God, I’m going to come—oh fuck, oh fuck!” You lifted almost completely off the bed as your orgasm slammed into you, ripping through sinnew and bone to consume your heart, devour you entirely.

Barty slowed his ministrations, dragging his tongue through your spasming pussy with long, lush licks, his hold tight on your thighs when you started to inch away from him, your body twitching and shaking as you came down from your high.

“That’s my treasure, so fucking gorgeous when you come for me,” he hummed, smiling against your skin, and nuzzled his nose against your clit while he withdrew his fingers, making you jump and whine. “Not so mean now, are you, sweetness?”

You shook your head, trembling and weak, completely boneless beneath him.

"So soft for me, hm?" He dragged you down the bed, throwing one of your calves over his shoulder while he swiped the head of his cock through your messy slit. “Better hold onto something, darling. You've got me at the end of my leash.”

You wrapped your hands around the bars of his headboard and he grinned, a wicked slash across his handsome face.

“Fuck, I knew you were perfect for me.” He notched his cock at your entrance and with a smooth roll of his hips, buried himself to the hilt. You both cried out, the fullness, the stretch more intense than anything you’d felt before. “I was fucking made for you, baby,” he groaned, dragging his hips back before snapping them forward, your pussy fluttering around him.

“Fuck, B, feels so good,” you mewled, rocking your hips to meet his thrust for thrust, the bed creaking loudly beneath you.

He used his hold on your elevated leg to lift your hips off the bed, ratcheting up to a punishing pace, making you scream and thrash on the bed while he fucked you with every ounce of desperation and determination he’d harbored over the last few months. His teeth sunk into your calf, hard enough to send a bolt of pain down your leg and make you cry out, heightening the pleasure radiating from your core until you were teetering on the edge again, every graze of his cockhead against your cervix winding you tighter, higher—

“Shit, baby, I’m gonna come soon,” he grunted, his thrusts growing sloppy, erratic and rough, and you could only nod. “Can feel it, tres. C’mon, babygirl, come with me. Please, need to feel you come around me, m’dying for it, please, please—”

You came with a scream, your vision whiting out as sunlight blazed through you, eviscerating every ounce of tension, trepidation, fear, and leaving you a beacon of light, nothing but giddy, delirious stardust.

“Fuck, yes, that’s it—fuck!” Barty came a heartbeat after you, the swelling and throbbing of his cock as he painted your inside white prolonging your release, wringing every drop of pleasure from you until you both collapsed onto the bed, chests heaving and sticky with sweat, the glitter from his skin decorating yours.

You reached for him, trembling and raw, and he gathered you into his chest, kissing your cheeks and forehead with a dizzying gentleness. “Barty,” you breathed, hands curling against his chest, too overwhelmed with feeling to say anything else.

“I’m yours,” he whispered, cradling your face to bring your gaze to his. “I’m yours.”

You nodded, leaning forward to kiss him, taste him again, letting the warmth of his body, the heavy beat of his heart, ground you in the reality of this moment. Barty was yours, and you were his. And you were safe. He wanted you despite your attitude, your armor, your callousness. He wanted you exactly as you were, more than happy to lay in the shadows with you, or draw you out into his light to dance.

“And I’m yours,” you breathed against his lips, and he smiled.

“I'll be right back,” he murmured, pressing a delicate kiss to your head before flying out of bed and wrenching open the door, his cock barely stuffed back into his pants. “SHE’S FUCKING MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNEEEEEEE!” He screamed down the stairs to the party.

A chorus of cheers rang out, reaching you from the common room. You buried your face into his pillow, laughter bubbling up despite the embarrassment scorching your cheeks.

Barty whirled around, a maniac’s grin on his face, and he dove back into bed, determined to stake his claim as many times as possible before sunrise.

Thank you for reading!

[leeny-leens]

Knives Out (Wounds In) | BCJ x Reader

Pairing: bsf!Barty Crouch Jr x bsf! Reader

Summary: You accidentally stab Barty and he...asks for more?

Warnings: BLOOD, STABBING, INJURIES, Barty has issues,I've never dressed a thigh wound before, description of injury being taken care off, Barty likes pain (and blood), proceed with caution okay I'm sleep deprived

Content: Barty and the Reader are a little unhinged, Barty is having a crisis, Barty being called doll (courtesy of @vun3r4b13xwrites for this brain rot), not proofread or edited, Barty makes like one really dark joke abt dying but it's not too dark

WC: 3.83k

AN: this was inspired by a post of @unconventional-lawnchair and honestly idek what happened, it somehow spiraled into being something much longer and ??? than anticipated so have this. Also tagging @esotericloser BCS ya said ya want it <3

Being friends with Barty meant that there wasn't much that could actually traumatize you anymore when it came to gory horror. Oh no, you’re bound lose that ability quite quickly in his company, with the way he walked around looking like a splasher horror victim half of the time. He barley ever had an explanation for it either, always shrugging and mumbling something incoherent about where the blood on him came from.

So really, you'd say you're pretty desensitized when it came to blood and injuries, especially when it came to Barty being bloodied and injured.

Nothing however, could have prepared you for the sight of your very own dagger piercing his thigh, blood spilling and splashing on the ground and wall.

It's your worst nightmare come true; a loved one injured and bloodied because of you and your stupidity, though Barty would go on a tangent, chiding you for the self deprecating notion of that thought.

The boy in question, you just noticed, stood by the open door, his face pulled into a blend between amusement and a grimace of pain as he stared between the dagger and your frozen form on your bed.

“Damn doll, when I said your stare could throw daggers at me I didn't think you'd take it seriously,” he said, painfully failing to conceal the wince in his voice as he joked.

The sound of his voice was apparently all your brain needed to reboot itself and jumpstart again. Immediately, you hurled yourself up from the bed, standing by his side in a few quick strides as you crouched down to examine the injury on his thigh.

“Merlin I’m sorry Bee, I was doing that stupid Charms assignment and- and you just came in and I panicked and oh my god are you gonna die?” there was seemingly no stopping you the moment you began to speak, the words stumbling out in no rhyme or rhythm as you tried to remember what little you’d learned about first aid.

In your panic, there wasn't much you remembered aside for needing to stop the bleeding somehow and making sure to keep his leg raised high, or was it keep it low to prevent bleeding? You couldn't recall it, your mind too riddled with guilt and terror at the vast amount of blood staining the carpet.

“You can't die on me,” you whimpered, tears barley held at bay “They're gonna expell me if they find out I killed you-”

The sudden realization of who your best friend was hit you harder than any hex you've sustained in your lifetime before you stared up at him with terror blown eyes “Oh my god your father is sending me to Azkaban for killing his only heir.”

This was evidently the straw that broke the camels back, Barty finally doubled over from laughter, his barking voice probably resonating through the entirety of the dormitory. His laughter quickly turned into pressed coughs as he tried to straighten back up again, mild gasps of pain escaping him in-between. Quickly, you're on your feet again, gently yet firmly guiding him to your bed and hissing at him to not put any weight on his injured leg.

To his credit, he let you push him around like a pliant ragdoll, following your instructions and keeping his pretty mouth shut aside for a few pained noises here there. His eyes flickered between you and the dagger, regarding the latter with a glimmer of fascination and you could tell it took everything in him to not poke at the metal protruding from his flesh.

“Relax doll,” he said in an attempt to reassure you “’M not gonna die yeah? Tis but a scratch.” As if trying to convince you, he tapped the dagger lightly, smiling at you with that wide expression, his lips pulled apart so much it brought his dimple out. “See? I've survived worse,” he added, and to your utter dismay, it did help calm you down.

“Right, it's probably worse than it looks like” you muttered, taking a few deep breaths to compose yourself before finally gathering your thoughts to help him. “Okay, stay right there and don't move okay?” you threw him a warning glare before disappearing into the bathroom, occasionally glancing over your shoulder to make sure he was following your instructions. You knew staying still was hard for Barty, his natural inclination to always be in motion was one of the biggest hurdles he faced in his day to day life. He couldn't sit still for longer than a few minutes, not without bouncing his leg or tapping his fingers against the nearest surface or hell, rocking back and forth. Don't get him started on people telling him to be still, that somehow made it much harder to comply than if he tried to do it on his own.

He was however, trying his best to stay still, probably to not worry you more than he already had, and you appreciated his cooperation immensely.

Returning back to his side, you knelt down at the bedside and set down a plain white box and opened it, revealing various bandages, potions and vials along side bandaids and scissors of different types and sizes.

Barty decided to stay silent, watching your movements with an attentive, hawk-like gaze and arched his eyebrows in surprise as you grabbed the biggest pair of scissors, only to bring it to the hem of his pant leg, quickly cutting through the dark fabric.

“You know,” he said amused, watching you cut apart his pants “This is not how I imagined you undressing me would go, could've taken me out to dinner first at least.”

“You're so lucky you already have a stab wound,” you replied dryly, moving the fabric away to reveal the pale skin of thigh and barley held back your grimace at the sight of the dagger lodged into it. “Otherwise that comment would've gotten you one.” you grabbed a whole bunch of gauzes and disinfectant, slowly trying to assess how bad the wound was in order to decide your next course of action.

This was the part you'd feared the most, the one where you pulled the dagger out.

As if he’d read your mind, Barty reached out to take your hand into his, bringing it to his lips so he could press a kiss on your knuckles. “It's gonna be okay doll,” he murmured softly “I trust you, you're bloody brilliant and you don't have to be scared of this.”

It was comical really, how he'd gotten hurt because of you and yet was the one to offer you comfort and reassurance. Had this been anyone else, you would've scoffed and thrashed against the gesture, but this was Barty, your Barty, who'd watched you overcome every obstacle in your life for the last six years, your Barty who knew you like the back of his hand and studied you like you were the biggest mystery in the universe to be unraveled. You could only nod in agreement, squeezing his hand tightly as you steadied your breath to pull out the dagger.

You vaguely remembered how Madam Pomfrey would talk up injured students to distract them from procedures, and you decided that if the matron of the hospital wing did it, it couldn't be that stupid of an idea to try out.

“Why did you come into my room?”

you asked suddenly, and he leaned back into the nest of pillows you had propped against your headboard.

He shrugged, a lopsided grin on his face. “No reason, just wanted to see my favourite person,” despite all the years with him as your best friend, the response still managed to draw out an over exaggerated eyeroll from you, one that did nothing to mask the smile that tugged at the corners of your lips.

You questioned him some more, asking about his day and what he was going to do, and because this was your Barty, you knew he wouldn't pass up an opportunity to talk your ear off, the dagger in his thigh quickly forgotten. Fortunately for you, that meant you could pull it out with one smooth movement, granting Barty barley any time to register the pain before you began to press a mountain of gauzes against the wound. The white fabric quickly became a soaked, scarlet mess and you could hear his breath hitch at the sight, not the way it would've from pain, but rather from something akin to speechlessness. He watched you press against the wound, switching out gauze after gauze whenever it became unusable after soaking up too much blood, and he was sure the blood rushing to his head at the sight of your fingers gleaming with the red liquid of him was significantly more fatale than the stab wound to his thigh. There was just something so primitively alluring about the sight, your face contorted into a grimace of worry and concentration as you applied moderate yet firm pressure against his thigh, not minding how dirty your hands became in the process. It didn't help that it was him sullying your pretty hands, and he swore his soul left his body when you moved a stray strand of hair out of your face, cursing when you felt the blood smear on your cheek.

He wanted nothing more but to lean forward and wipe it off, perhaps clean it up with his own mouth just to see how he tasted on you, but he remained rigidly seated like a statue, his mind a battle field of desire and rationality.

You were none the wiser to his predicament, taking his sudden silence as a side effect of pain or shock. You took to murmuring encouragement and random things about your own day, partially to fill the silence and partially to make sure the boy was still rooted into reality instead of floating into the realm of dark memories, just on the off chance that the sight of his own blood and the feeling of pain brought them forward. You told him about the stupid Charms project you’d taken up for extra credit, letting a dagger float around in a coordinated pattern, and how you'd been sitting at it for hours on end before he barged into your room, startling you into sending the dagger straight at him. He made the occasional grunt of agreement or let out a snort at a particularly funny joke you cracked, and after a few minutes that felt like an eternity, the bleeding finally seemed to stop enough for you to be able to actually inspect the wound.

It looked worse than it actually is, not too deep and not too long, and your entire body slumped in relief at the realization. For a moment, you rested your head in your hands, muttering thanks to whatever might hear you. “Thank everything you're not gonna die,” you said once you looked at Barty again, whose attention had been on you the entire time. “What a pity,” he replied almost too plainly, yet the grin on his face betrayed the self deprecating statement. “Here I was looking forward to bringing joy into my father's life for once,” you rolled your eyes so hard you worried they might actually fall out, and you could only lean forward to hit his shoulder with a warning scoff. “Don't be mean to my best friend,” you chided “That's my job, I can't afford to lose it in this economy.”

“So true, the prices are ridiculously high these days,” he mused, eyes glimmering as he watched you disinfect the wound and bandage it up.

“Exactly! I mean come on, 5 galleons for a pack of chocolates frogs? Do they think all of us are made of trust funds and old money?” Barty is unable to hold in his snort at your statement, reminiscing how you haven't let it go ever since your last trip to Hogsmeade nearly a month ago. If anyone knew how to hold a grudge, it was his doll for sure.

Absentmindedly, your fingers traced slow circles around the red, angry skin of the gash, careful to not press or touch anything that might elicit unnecessary pain. Barty’s entire body went stiff at the soft touch, so gentle and soothing, like he was made of porcelain and too fragile, the lightest press of your thumb against his thigh a breaking hazard. It was a stark contrast to how he was usually treated, but he’d come to accept it from you. While he hated being seen as vulnerable and weak- because he was everything but that-, he found himself relishing your touch and care, for it stemmed not from pity or underestimation but genuine care and love. And oh how he soaked up every ounce of affection you gave him, starved of it for his whole life but finding you there to give it to him like a steady stream flowing from the creek of your heart.

You took his stiffness as a sign of discomfort and swiftly withdrew your hand to stop the ministrations, almost missing the imperceptible whine of dissatisfaction that barely escaped the boy’s lips. When you stared at him with a puzzled look on your face, he greeted you with one of his own, cleverly covering for his mindless slip-up.

When it seemed like he hadn’t actually made any sound, you were content to get back to treating the wound, your fingers brushing over the tools in the first aid kit.

After realising the wound wasn't life threatening, your mind had cleared up significantly, rendering you able to think and remember what you needed to do to properly take care of the gash. You grabbed a bottle of blue disinfectant alongside more of the gauze, dousing the latter in the blue solution before pressing it against the injury.

The lack of warning, coupled with the sudden action, had Barty hissing and bucking in pain, even if the momentary sting left an aftertaste of pleasure in its wake.

You glanced up at him, your expression one of sheepish apology, before dapping the gauze carefully on the cut.

“’M so sorry, just a bit more yeah doll?” you murmured, your other hand coming up to rub along his knee. Barty wasn't sure what knocked out the breathe out of his lungs; the endearment or the touch or perhaps the sincerity and care that he could feel seeping into his cold and hollow bones with every second he spent in your presence. If getting stabbed by you meant he could have you this close, this warm and soft and attentive all for him? Merlin, he'd let you stab him over and over again, like he was your personal pin cushion.

He tried to keep the noise to a minimum, alongside the flinching in fear of losing your touch. The last thing he wanted was for you to let go of him, as selfish as that sounded. He quite liked having your full attention on him, like nothing else in the world mattered as much as he did.

Selfish and self-centred? Maybe.

Did he give a fuck? Not in the slightest.

A tap against his knee brought him out of his reveries, and his eyes met yours in a questioning manner. “Whadya say, darlin’?” he asked, trying his best to sound casual “Too busy enjoying your hands on me.”

His comment drew an amused chuckle from you, much too used to his flirtations. You never quite knew whether he meant it or not, all those playful jabs and nudges that toyed the line between friendship and something more, yet neither of you made a move to explore that territory, too afraid to lose what you had.

“I said I’m putting some of that scarring ointment on the wound,” you said, repeating the statement that had been lost on him. You’d already grabbed the small tub with the greenish paste. When you uncapped it, dipping your finger into it to apply it to his wound, you were surprised by his sudden recoiling, as if the mere notion of applying the ointment would sear his skin down to his bones.

“Bee?” You asked, surprised to see him flinch away from you.

He was mortified at his own reaction, not having had enough time to control his movements. He didn’t quite know how he could explain this to you, why he flinched away when you’ve been nothing but a perfect caretaker, inspecting and treating his injury.

Just as he began to sputter out a messy apology and an explanation, realisation dawned on you. You weren’t stupid, just like Barty knew you better than anyone else, you had the privilege of knowing him like no one else had. You’d watched him get into fights more often than you could count. You’d talked to him plenty about it of course, unable to just stand by as he destroyed himself, body and soul, over and over again. What had bothered you the most was him never properly taking care of his injuries, opting to let them fester and scar until his entire body was littered with gashes and cuts of various sizes. Over time, you’d come to understand that he didn’t necessarily enjoy the act of fighting itself, but rather how alive he felt with each punch, with each crack and broken bone. The scars were a testament to his existence, proof that he hadn’t been complete worn numb by life and its hardships. He liked the reminders, liked to look at them and trace along their edges whenever he felt himself slip away into the darkest corners of his mind, and you’d figured that this gash was no exception.

“You want it to scar,” you said, not a question but rather a fact. You watched as colour rushed into his pale face, mouth falling open and closing in a comical fashion. He could muster up nothing more than a nod, knowing that trying to talk his way out of this wasn’t an option.

Softly, you traced along the edge of the gash, your eyes never once leaving his. “Why?” There wasn’t an ounce of judgment in your voice as you posed the question, just pure curiosity and the need to understand him.

Silence blanketed the room as you patiently waited for him to answer your question. His eyebrows furrowed in that typical Barty manner, the one that made the silver piercings in his eyebrows more visible, catching the lights around him. When he spoke up, his voice was quiet, almost too quiet, as if afraid that speaking any louder might shatter both you and him.

“I want your mark on me,” from all the answers he could’ve given you, this one was the last one you’d expected, yet somehow the most perfect Barty answer of them all. His love had always been that way, all teeth and scratches, leaving marks in its wake as evidence that he had been there. In the same fashion, it made sense that he wanted love in the same manner; with marks left on him to prove that he was loved.

It was crazy, really, how much you understood him. It should’ve scared you, weirded you out at least, but no such sensations arised. There was only love and understanding cursing through your body for the boy you called your best friend.

Emboldened by his vulnerability, you found yourself leaning in closer, your lips ghosting over the edge of the gash before pressing them down in a gentle kiss. “It’s alright,” you mumbled “You can keep it Bee, ‘m not judging you.”

His breath hitched at the feeling of your lips pressed so closely to the wound, mind reeling at having you so close, so understanding and so incredibly loving despite him being so himself, a warning in and out of itself.

“Does that mean you’d be down to giving me another one?” He asked jokingly, trying his best to lighten the mood by even an ounce.

“Maybe,” you quipped back, pulling one of the bandaids out to put it over the wound. “If you ask nicely, I might,” you grinned up at him, enjoy in seeing him squirm for once. His eyes drifted to the dagger, mind running wild with anticipation.

“Please?”

“Is that the best you got, doll?”

“Bold statement for someone who just stabbed me,” he retorted “And took off my pants without asking!”

With a snort, you stood up, patting his thigh softly before putting the first and kit on the ground to sit beside him. “Well when you put it that way, I have no choice but to oblige, no?” You grabbed the dagger, twirling it in your hand before you ever so slowly lowered it down to graze the skin of his thigh.

He was completely still beneath your touch, his breath shallow as he waited for your next move. There was no hurry in your movements, the glinting tip of the dagger barely tracing across his flesh. “What do we say when we want something, doll?” You asked, amused by the extreme change in his behaviour. You’d never seen Barty so complacent and mellow in all your years together, much less because of you.

“Please,” he mumbled “Give me another one?” Subconsciously, he’d leaned in closer to you, hazel eyes almost completely swallowed up by the darkness of his pupils.

A small smile tugged on the corners of your mouth, and not wanting to tease him any further, you pressed the blade into his skin.

You watched as he bit his lips, trying to the best of his abilities to not wince in pain and spurred on by the heat of the moment, you closed the distance between the two of you, crashing your lips against his. The sounds of pain he let out were swallowed by your mouth, moving in frenzied hunger as you let the dagger blade dig deeper into his thigh.

In that moment, you realised two things.

One: You were in love with Barty Crouch Junior, your best friend since first year.

Two: You were incredibly and thoroughly fucked, for you would go to the ends of hell for this boy, the same way you knew without a doubt he would do the same.

And here, in the quiet of your dorm room, your mouth on his and the distinct, metallic smell of blood, you didn’t quite mind going to the ends of hell if it meant you could have Barty by your side.

[crescenthistory]

my lovely carinaa, i'm so happy for youuu!!💫

for this celebration, could you analyze barty and how he feels around divination? wich could be if he's good at it (tarot reading, chiromancy, tea leaves reading, astrology...), or how he would interact with a friend/lover who practices it.

anyways, i want to congratulate you again for being so amazing xx 💓

hi my darling<333 thank you so so much, you are amazing and a real day 1er for me mwah

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i will ANALYSE barty crouch jr. and his relationship with divination

carina's 2k celebration

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i think barty is really into divination ironically

by the time he got to his first divination class, he was already rebelling against his father and trying to create as sharp of a contrast between them as possible

considering his father is a politician who is swept up in paperwork and logistics, being a divination "fanatic" is a great way to achieve that

i mean, barty gets top grades in genuinely every single subject, i think he is the type who just puts everything together with zero effort, in that way that frustrates the academic overachievers like regulus to no end

but he rarely participates in class or use his knowledge unless it is to prove a point

so when he really throws his whole theatrical self into divination, it stands out to both students and professors alike

whether it is professor trelawney or someone else in this time period, i don't think they would be able to tell that barty is 1) bullshitting or 2) taking the piss

while evan and his other friends can clearly tell and are snickering in the background

barty would make up these elaborate stories about what he sees in the teacup or what he reads on someone's palm, gasping at what is "revealed" to him – if he was bored, he would maybe even fake cry

even though he doesn't really see anything or care all that much

his engagement and passion gets to the point where the professor invites him to have tea privately and discuss more advanced divination regularly

and barty will always commit to the bit, happily becoming the professor's favourite student and doing all the research

it was all for the act of rebellion and shits and giggles, barty's core motivations in life – until he begins to grow up a bit

as he gets towards fifth year and his perception of the world begins to even out and grow with him, i think he begins to have some change of heart

firstly, this boy has mummy and daddy issues, so being the professor's favourite would eventually do something to him

being loved? remembered? thought of? praised? validated? trusted? it was exactly what he needed

at some point, he starts viewing them as a parental figure, and quiets down on the mockery of it all

but it's not like he can just back out of how dedicated he was when he no longer wants to make as obvious of a joke of it, so instead he begins to become more earnest in his approach

especially as he learns more and more, he realises that divination is not just looking into an orb and making up random shit the way he has been approaching it; there is a method to the madness, an infinitely deep approach to this unique way of magic

while i don't think he would become a divination freak overnight, this respect would slowly be building within him as he comes to appreciate the professor more and more

made especially worse by the fact that his father got worse and worse the older he got

and as this respect grows, of course the rebellion against senior becomes more effective too, so in reality, barty still achieved what he wanted

then, if he around sixth/seventh year would begin falling for someone who is genuinely passionate about divination (whether that is whimsical!reader, spiritual!reader, etc.) that would be the final nail in the coffin

if you were to use divination in some capacity to understand him better and unpack the mystery that was barty crouch jr., he would feel so painfully seen

to have someone make an effort with him is not something he is used to

the fact that he knows so much from having weekly tea with the professor is something for you to bond over

and you get to teach barty what this form of magic means to you and how you make active use of it in your life

while barty stands by committing to bits and taking the piss out of any- and everything he can, i think he would truly see the value in it

having you hold his hand and analyse it would feel so intimate to him, and the fact that he even understood what you were saying when you read it would be something he was so grateful for

now, the joke would be less so "oh wow lads i love this useless type of magic" and rather more "i am a divination expert and i know better than all of you bigots"

(because while his affections may have changed, his personality obviously has not)

also the professor would so attend the wedding

[moonyswarmsweaters]

Fuck wedding bands Rosekiller would wear little vials of each other’s blood

[luizd3ad]

Music Notes | Barty Crouch Jr x Reader

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ࣪˖⤷ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ࣪ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ⤷

Pairing: Rockstar!Barty x GN!Rockstar!Reader WC: 3,471 CW:  Soulmate AU, Rockstar AU, 2010's AU, use of Y/N, mentions of anxiety, swearing Author's Note: This is one of those fics where I'm my own target audience but if you read this I really hope you like it. Also I feel like Pandora get kinda out of character at the end but I just idk I felt like it was necessary. Summary: You meat your soulmate during the best summer of your life.

Volume:■■■■■■■■■■□□

Everyone is born with a symbol of something that you and your soulmate(s) will have in common along with their initials, and when you look into their eyes for the first time your soulmark is supposed to tingle. 

The symbol could be literally anything, it could be related to your career, a hobie, a passion or in your case all the above. For as long as you could remember you've had a music note and the initials BCJ on your wrist.

But for the longest time you were confused by your soulmark, you weren't really interested in music. I mean you liked listening to it as much as the next person but not enough to make it your soulmark.

That was until you were twelve and you met Jade. She was just so outgoing and bubbly, she made friends easily, she'd walk into a room and demand attention without even trying and she soon started showing you all these bands and artists you'd never heard of. Jade changed everything for you, she showed you a side of music you didn't know existed. And all of a sudden, you were hooked.

You became so inthralled by the music that the initial next to the note paled in comparison, you hardly thought about your soulmate because as far as you were concerned music was your soulmate. 

When you were fourteen Jade introduced you to Sammy. Sammy was a pretty shy, and quiet kid but once he was comfortable he'd talk your ear off for hours. That's how he continued to expand your love for music. Not only did he tell you about more bands and artists that ranged outside of the emo, pop punk scene, but he showed you shows, concerts. 

You, Jade and Sammy would go to any show you could. House shows, backyard gigs, if there was a guitar riff and a mosh pit the three of you were there. And that's how you met Pink.

Now Pink’s real name was Floyd but he liked being called Pink. Which you always thought was funny considering he was the strong, silent type, so the name completely contradicted his personality but he liked David Bowie so who were you to judge? Pink was your tipping point. He was a beast on the drums, you and Sammy would sit there and listen to him play all day. Which somehow led to Pink convincing your little group that you guys could make a band, a killer band at that.

And surprisingly he wasnt fucking wrong thus ‘Fighting Pixies’ was born.

C. Summer of 2012

It was the first day of Warped Tour and you couldn't be more excited. You were so excited that you didn't even care that you were in some random arena parking lot sweating your ass off in Utah. 

Not only was this Fighting Pixies first year playing Warped Tour but you were on a main stage you were going to be playing on the same stage as the bands you grew up listening to. To say the feeling was surreal would be an understatement. This is what you, Jade, Sammy and Pink have been working towards for years, you guys were finally playing the festival that you would go to every summer. 

Walking out of the bus you started making your way to the catering tent by yourself since the rest of the band left you behind because you were apparently in Pinks’ words ‘taking too goddamn long’. You roll your eyes at his words thinking how it's bullshit that they could just leave you like that, when all the sudden you collide with someone. 

“Oh shit I'm so sorry dude.”

“You alright mate?”

You and the mystery person that you just basically assaulted said at the same time. Finally after gaining your balance you look at your victim. 

“Siri?” You say raising your eyebrow when he finally looks your way with a big smile on his face.

“Oh shit Y/N! How are you? I havent seen you in fucking ages!” Sirius yells while bringing you into a hug, you hug him back laughing then pulling away.

“I've been good. I haven't seen you since you, Rem and James came to one of our shows. Is he here?” You ask, looking around hoping to catch sight of Remus.

“No not yet, he's back home with Reg, Lily and Harry. But they'll be joining us for the last few shows.”

You couldn't help but let out a little laugh. “Baby's first Warped Tour? I like it, gotta start them young.”

Sirius laughed at you, the two of you then continued on your way to the catering tent. Luckily with no further incidents.

You and the rest of Fighting Pixies met Sirius a few years ago when he collabed on a song with you guys, you also had gotten to meet James a few times during the recording process. You hadn't met the rest of ‘Beyond London’ yet, but James had made it very clear that you and their bassist, Pandora, would become fast friends. 

But you hadn’t heard much about their guitarist, Barty, except in passing from mutual friends. Sirius would complain about him sometimes but in typical lead singer fashion Sirius had a tendency to be dramatic so you never really took anything he said about Barty to heart.

Eventually you and Sirius got to the catering tent. You found your band, James and a girl you recognized as Pandora sitting at a table together. 

“Well if it isn't the second best drummer on Warped Tour.” You say with a teasing smile sitting across from James. James just laughs and shakes his head. While pink has a small smug look on his face. 

“What? So Pink’s the best drummer on tour?” James raises his eyebrow at you with a goofy smile still on his face. 

You laugh and shake your head. “No, not even close, Angelo is clearly the best drummer here. Have you heard Motionless in White’s breakdowns?” Pink then glared at you while scoffing. What? Someone has to bring his ego down.

After a few hours of making fun of each other, hanging out, watching a few bands sets and getting to know Pandora (who is literally the sweetest person ever) you and the rest of your band had to go back to the bus to get ready for your set in a few hours.

You got to get into the shower after Jade so after your shower and skin routine you walked out into the common area plopping down at the table so you could start to get your hair and other things done. 

“Dude when you were in the bathroom Sirius came over and brought Barty, dudes funny. You missed out.” Sammy said, sitting down next to you eating a bowl of cereal.

“Damn. Well I have a whole summer to run into him at some point.” You shrug, getting all your stuff out to get ready.

You actually really wanted to meet Barty based on what little you had heard about him over the years, the fact that he was one hell of a guitarist, and you'd never admit this to anymore but you were really attracted to him. Based purely off the pictures you've seen of him.

You had a lot of respect for him as a musician, you could recognize the emotions that he put into each riff, solo, hell just a strum and you could tell what he was feeling.

A part of you found it frustrating that after all these years of knowing Sirius and James you had always seemed to miss Barty, sometimes by literal minutes.

The rest of your band had met him in passing, never more than a ‘hi’ or ‘hey’ but still they've met him. 

So you couldn't help but be a little frustrated at the fact that for one of the only times that day where you weren't around your band they actually got to hang out with him. You don't know why it bothered you so much, I mean you couldn't even be upset with anyone in particular. It's literally no one's fault. So why did it bother you so much?

Eventually you and the rest of Fighting Pixies found yourselves waiting backstage to go on when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned to see your new favorite blond girl. 

“Hi Pandora. What's up?”

“Hi. I just came to watch the beginning of your set. I won't be able to stay long, by the time you lot get off we'll have just started our set.” Pandora explains with her signature tooth rotting smile. 

“Aw thanks, I was actually planning on heading to your guys' set when we're done here.”

“Yes, you should!” Pandora stood up straighter with a sense of excitement and urgency about something you didn't understand, but you just thought that it was Pandora being Pandora. 

You had heard over the years that she would do or say things that didn't make much sense to really anyone so you chose to just brush it off.

“Oh I also wanted to give you theses.” Pandora says while handing you two rocks.

You take the rocks confused with a raised eyebrow. “Thanks, but what are they?”

“The orange one is citrine and the pink one is rose quartz. They're meant to bring you good luck, just put them in your pocket and they'll do their job.” Pandora says with a knowing type of smile, that once again confused you but you just nodded and put them in your pocket choosing not to question the blond.

“Y/N come on, it's time to go.” One of the stage hands says passing you your guitar. You just nodded, putting the strap over your head.

“Well I hope you like our set and I'll see you at yours.” You chuckled a little as she just nodded.

You would think after all of these years of doing this you'd be used to it at this point. That you would be used to being on stage, that the anxiety of fucking up would be gone but it didn’t go away, lessened yeah but not gone. 

You also never really get used to people singing lyrics that you wrote or helped write, especially when the words were sentimental to you at one point, but it was kind of nice to know that those words are sentimental to others now too.

You wouldn't trade this for the world. You were lucky and you knew that, so many people would kill for this chance so you didn't take it for granted.

Thirty minutes later you and your band mates were running off stage sweaty and high off adrenaline with big smiles on your faces’ your first show at your first warped tour was beyond amazing it was fucking perfect you were convinced nothing could top this feeling.

You started to make your way to Beyond London’s set. The rest of the band had other sets or people that they wanted to see so you went your separate ways for the time being. 

Eventually you made it to the stage Beyond London was playing at. You had stopped a few times to talk to people and take pictures but luckily not too many people stopped you so you made it when they started to play their last song.

After all the years you had known Sirius and James you had never actually got the chance to see them play. To say they were amazing felt like the understatement of the century. 

James looked like he was in his element on the drums, Pandora was so focused on her bass but that didn't stop her from swinging herself around, Sirius had basically every person either swooning because of his looks or crying because of how beautiful his voice was and then there was Barty. 

Just the sight of him alone made your heart skip a beat, you had never seen such raw emotion while someone played the guitar. Once your eyes landed on him you couldn't, you wouldn't, look away. The way he moved, how he would throw his head back every so often, sometimes you could see his jaw clench, you could tell he put his all into the music. You had never seen something so amazing. So perfect.

The song ended and they all started to make their way to the side of the stage you were on, Barty sayed a little longer then his band mates throwing things like his picks and set lists into the crowd. 

You were brought into a bear hug and spun around by a very sweaty Sirius. You shrieked and tried to push yourself away from him to no avail.

“Sirius Black if you don't put me down right now I'll make sure you never play another show again!” You screamed threatened while continuing your best efforts to get away from your sweaty attacker. Suddenly you hear a gasp and you're put down very quickly, almost falling while Sirius scoffs and mutters something about ‘Some people’. 

Pandora came to your rescue making sure you’re okay. You were about to scold Sirius for almost making you fall, but he was already out of sight. Pandora turned you around to have you look at her. 

You looked at her very surprised with your eyebrows raised. “What is up with the manhandling right now?” you laugh slightly awkwardly. 

“Do you still have the crystals I gave you?” Pandora asks with a serious face completely ignoring your question. 

You furrowed your brows and nodded still very confused. “Considering you gave them to me a little over an hour ago, yes. I know we don't know each other very well but have some faith in me Pandora.” You once again laughed a little trying to ease the little tension that seemed to form.

Pandora just smiled at you and hugged you and whispered. “I'm so happy for you two.”

You pulled away and looked at her once again beyond confused. “What-”

You were then interrupted by James yelling over to you. “Y/N, come meet Barty, finally.” Pandora kept smiling at you and then she just nodded at you encouragingly. For what felt like the hundredth time that day Pandora confused you and you once again just chalked it up to Pandora being Pandora.

While making your way over to the three men that stood in a little circle probably talking about the show that they just put on, you were hit with a sudden wave of anxiety. 

Why were you anxious? You had been fine (other than the major confusion you went through with Pandora)  so why does it feel like your heart is going a mile a minute.

Sirius and James are facing you while Barty’s back is towards you. As soon as you're in arms length Sirius wraps his arm around your shoulder pulling you close to him.

“Barty, this is Y/N. Y/N, Barty.” James says motioning between you two.

“Hi, it's nice to finally-” You cut yourself off when you looked into his eyes, feeling a tingle on your writs.

Your whole life you've heard stories about what meeting your soulmate felt like. How all of a sudden everything seemed less important. How you would only want to focus on that person. How you'd feel like you had a new meaning to life. Honestly you thought it was all bullshit. 

But now you knew that, that was all an understatement. 

You finally felt like you were home, like everything would be okay. It felt like breathing for the first time. 

You could play a million more shows, meet your idols, win a fucking Grammy and nothing would compare to what you were feeling when you met his eyes. And based on the look on his face, Barty felt the same way.

“Hi.” You whispered still in a shocked state.

“Hi, angel.” Barty said softly with a love sick look on his face, your heart skips a beat at the nickname and you can't help but smile. He suddenly moved his eyes to Sirius and glared at him. “You'll move your arm if you know what's good for you, Black.” 

Sirius moved his arm away from around you and put his hands up in surrender, you actually forgot Sirius and James were there let alone that Sirius had an arm wrapped around you.

You hadn't thought about your soulmate in years. You didn't ever think you'd meet them, and a part of you didn't really care if you did honestly. As long as you had your music and friends you were fine, that's what you thought at least. It was crazy how in one moment that whole mindset could change.

Now you couldn't imagine a life without Barty. You didn't want to imagine a life without him. 

For so long music was your number one priority, you didn't care about much else but now this person that you just met became your number one. It felt insane and crazy but you couldn't help it and a big part of you loved it. 

You and Barty found yourselves sitting in Beyond London's tour bus talking during the almost eight hour drive from Salt Lake City to Denver. You two just talked about your lives, childhoods, things you loved, things you hated, everything. 

He told you about his Father who you now hated almost as much as Barty. Barty had the biggest smile on his face when you told him how you felt about his father in extreme detail after the stories he told you.

Eventually you both noticed the buses pulling into a new arena parking lot while the sun was rising. Both of you knew you had to go back to your bus now, you had sets and meet and greets later that day. You needed some kind of energy. 

Barty with a cheeky smile insisted that you just join him in his bunk, you just responded with an eye roll and a ‘You wish’ which earned you a ‘You have no idea’.

Barty ended up walking you to your bus, you and him stood outside of the bus talking and stalling, not wanting to leave each other yet.

“Barty, I have to go. We need to get some sleep.” You were looking down at your hands together knowing one you needed to let go but not wanting to.

“I know angel, I know.” He gave you a sad smile as if he would never see you again. 

Barty was often scared that all of this was just a dream. That one day he would wake up back in his fathers clutches and his life as a rockstar was just a dream, it always scared him. But now in his mind it wasn't only his life as a rockstar at stake but you and that now terrified him. He had admitted this to you while you were talking that night so you didn't blame him for being hesitant. You just hugged him trying to reassure him.

“You can come over when you wake up Barty. Don't hesitate, I don't care if I'm awake or asleep. I just know that if you stay we're not gonna get any sleep.” Barty pulls away from you with a smirk and raised eyebrows, you just hit his chest and roll your eyes. “Not like that. I just mean we'll stay up talking.”

He just laughs and kisses your forehead. “I know what you meant, angel, just like teasing you is all.” He pulls you against him resting his chin on your head. “Is it bad to say I'll miss you? Even if I know it's just a few hours.”

“It's not bad because I'll miss you too.” You whisper against him. 

After a moment he pulls away again looking down at you he moves his hand to hold the side of your face, cressing you cheek with his thumb. You leaned into his touch with a small smile on your face looking up at him.

“You are now the most important thing in my life now, my angel.” He's looking deep into your eyes, not a hint of lies or regret in his words.

Barty started to lean down with a sense of hesitation, you just nodded and smiled at him letting him know it was okay. You could feel butterflies in your stomach while your heart started to race. The moment your lips touched you felt electricity run through your veins. You never experienced such an amazing feeling, you were two puzzle pieces finally coming together. You already knew Barty was your everything but that kiss solidified it. It made it real in the best way possible, you knew you couldn't ask for a better soulmate.

Volume:■■■■■■■■■■□□

[foursaints]

Can we please hear your take on rosier twincest if youre into that i would inhale everything u write abt them

unfortunately i fundamentally don't see anything like that in the cards for the rosiers :(

to me, twincest is most thematically interesting when there's a push-pull between a pair's individual identities & their overriding Sameness (a great text for this is "Gothic Incest: Gender, Sexuality and Transgression" by Jenny Diplacidi (x) ) but the rosier twins' sameness is too complete for that conflict to exist. it wouldn't make sense because there is no tension; they are content to think of themselves as one person. you can't pine for yourself.

also like. i hesitate to make the rosiers overly transgressive. their codependence isn't exactly "normal", but their siblinghood is one of the most palatable things about them... it makes them easier to understand, which makes them easier for others to accept. their sibling bond is one of the few purely Good things in their lives, and i see it as redemptive for both of them..

essentially they are normal 100% of the time but the one person insane enough to get a tiny bit weird about it is bcj (💀). he met pandora, had the earth-shattering realization that There's Two Of Them, and then said absolutely nothing but a certain look came onto his face that caused reg to immediately go "YOU'RE FUCKING DISGUSTING" in the great hall.

[prongsfish]

*whispers in your ear* unrequited prince regulus x knight bcj *scurries away*

NOOOOOO WAHHHHHHHHH i can’t take this how could you… i could imagine either party being the one with unrequited feelings. i can imagine knight barty falling head over heels for the young prince he serves, meanwhile regulus can’t even comprehend the idea of such a thing, nor stop for one moment to even allow his brain to consider the people around him as anything other than background noise. he couldn’t ever imagine falling for a man if he couldn’t even imagine falling for anyone—in his mind he was born the fulfill his duties and part of doing that is marrying some princess for the political gain of his kingdom.

on the other hand, regulus always noticing that one knight, growing up alongside him… he’s been there for as long as regulus can remember and he’s always been so god damn beautiful, strong, smart… but he’s quiet and antisocial, he wouldn’t know how to talk to someone even if he wanted to. he’ll make a great king, but that training didn’t leave much time for those his own age. so barty never speaks with him, not truly, and he only ever sees regulus as that prince he’ll one day serve as he now serves his father. he never even gets the chance to see regulus as an actual human being because he’s never really been one, not out loud at least.

no matter which of them loved the other, neither of them would ever even have the words to express it. regulus is married off young. barty dies, not much older, in battle. regulus lives for a relatively long time, far too long for all he’s ever wanted to do with his life, but he provided an heir and led his kingdom well so when he dies, tired and lonelier than should be possible, he can convince himself that he was content with the way his life played out—that by fulfilling his duty, he was as fulfilled as he ever could be. in the end, he was never forced to confront that belief. he died consumed by an emptiness that he couldn’t even take notice of, let alone put a name to, but it was always there.

[sirixbarty]

barty x sirius is interesting bro, how did you get into it?

Sirius has spoken a surprising amount about Barty Crouch Junior. He seems to have realised that BCJ is not evil in the true sense of the word, but that Barty Senior's neglect and ignorance have caused his son to slip away from him. We see clear parallels between Sirius and Barty, they are basically the same character, just written the other way round. Sirius is the disappointment for his mother, Barty for his father. It can be assumed that Barty would have belonged in Gryffindor in his father's eyes, whereas Sirius should have become a Slytherin. They are both incredibly clever and gifted students, Barty completes his schooling with top marks in 12 exams. There's a very good tumblr post that explores this dynamic in more detail (https://www.tumblr.com/ashesandhackles/646460932998021120/shame-of-my-flesh-reading-into-sirius-thoughts?source=share) and we wondered how the gaps in the canon story could be filled with Barty x Sirius (spoiler: very well, in our opinion).

[managergreys]

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