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otrtbs · 5 months ago

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BARTYLUS BASEBALL THING

(inspired by this which haunts my thoughts 24/7)

Word Count: 5.2k

Part: 1/?

Summary: every summer begets the baseball tournament of the year. barty drags regulus to the opening game, kickstarting a series of unintended events.

Barty’s whole body hums, the way it always does when he’s around Regulus. Like the old TV his father has that crackles to life in static whirs, or the green boxes in the neighborhood that Barty would sit on until the sun went down. Constant electricity.

“I mean, they’ve been doing this for years now and I have been explicitly forbidden from going,” Regulus returns. Still, he doesn’t seem affected one way or the other. “Mother wouldn’t like it.”

“Oh, mother wouldn’t like it?” Barty snorts, mockingly. “So what? It’ll give us something to do. And it’ll give us an opportunity to see each other since your parents plan on keeping you locked up in the house all summer,” he counters, and Regulus knocks a sharp shoulder into his arm. “It’s good to stick together. Mother doesn’t have to know.”

They’re walking side by side on the pavement. Slow, shuffling feet. Hands in their pockets. It’s the last day of class for the school year. Without school, there’s no way for Barty to see Regulus. Barty went all of last summer without seeing Regulus and it was boring and brutal.

Regulus takes a hand out of his pocket and pushes the hair out of his face. The sun is bright, and it causes him to squint. “Sirius still playing?”

Barty nods. “Yeah. He’s still on the James Potter all-star team. I heard Potter even talked Frank Longbottom out of retirement for one last summer.”

“He’s only two years older than us,” Regulus scoffs.

“Still, he didn’t play last summer.”

Regulus nods slowly.

They walk down the pavement silently, dragging footsteps, trying to delay the inevitable.

“It is good to stick together.” Regulus looks at Barty and traces the bruise on his cheek with his finger lightly. Barty is proud of the way he doesn’t flinch, even if the bruise is still tender and aching. He’s not so proud of the way he leans into the touch, even if it hurts.

This entire time, Barty was worried about leaving Regulus alone for a summer with no one but his parents for company. Now he thinks Regulus was equally worried for him, for the same reasons.

“But, I don’t like baseball,” Regulus muses, pulling his finger away.

“No, but you like me,” Barty grins wickedly. “Besides, we’ll just make fun of the whole thing, and I’ll steal my dad’s liquor and we’ll make it fun.”

Regulus pretends to think about it, but it doesn’t matter. Barty knows him. He knows Regulus is going to give in.

The summer baseball tournament is a local legend among the neighborhood kids, and the kids from surrounding neighborhoods too. The first baseball game began five years ago after they knocked down an old rickety building and reduced it to rubble. It didn’t take long for the land to reclaim the area and grow into tall stalks of grassy growth. That’s when, at age 12, Frank Longbottom got the bright idea to turn it into a makeshift baseball field.

The first year, Frank could barely get enough people together to make two teams, and it was so hot in the daylight that they never finished a full game before the kids scattered back into their air-conditioned homes. By year two, Frank had taken the entire school year to recruit people from surrounding neighborhoods and moved the games to the evening to beat the blazing heat.

This would be the fifth consecutive year that the tournament would run. Some kids still used the lot to play baseball in the winter or the spring, but this? This was official. After five years, the summer games became a thing of wonder for all of the young people in town. Anyone aged 12-17 could be on a team, you had to have nine to a team to enter, and each team wishing to compete in the tournament would have to have an official group name, a poster, and a roster. You had to submit and finalize your team two months before the school year ended.

That’s when the fun began. Students would make fliers and posters advertising their teams. Slips of copy paper folded up into tiny squares and passed down the aisles of desks to avoid the sharp eyes of teachers and administrators. The official list is always posted on the first Saturday of May. One expertly crayola, stickered, and markered sheet listing the teams, players, and field positions was nailed to the hollow oak tree stump in the woods by the creek. All the children knew where it was, and all of the adults would never stumble across it. Once the list was posted, the betting could begin.

Mundungus Fletcher and his group of friends ran the baseball betting ring. They would sit out by the old tree stump every Saturday with their journals taking meticulous notes of everyone placing bets and what they brought in. Nothing was off limits, Mundungus Fletcher accepted everything from stickers to lighters. Packs of bubble gum, nail polish, the two or three cigarettes you could manage to steal from your father, anything. Of course, not everything was of equal value. A lighter was worth two full-size candy bars (and it couldn’t be one of the bad ones like Almond Joy or 3 Musketeers they had to Reece's or Twix) and two small stickers. A nail polish was worth a rubber band ball and a blow pop. Mundungus Fletcher and his team took their jobs seriously, monitoring the conversion rates and doling out prizes. Every Saturday the children of the neighborhood would scramble, bringing in whatever they thought would be best for the pot. A few stray dollar bills, their coins, candy, lip gloss, sunglasses, bouncy balls, yo-yos, marbles, stamps, pokemon cards, queued-up mp3 players, necklaces, baseball caps, and even beloved childhood stuffed animals weren’t safe when it was time for baseball bets.

Mundungus kept all of the bets in one of his mother’s large kitchen mixing bowls, then two of his mother’s large mixing bowls, then in empty shoe boxes as things began to overfill. He said he hid all the betting goods in a secret, secure location, but Barty was pretty sure he was just keeping it all under his bed. Regardless, Mundungus would bring out the spoils every Saturday so that all of the kids in the neighborhood could see their potential spoils, provided they picked the right team. It was a great incentive to get people to partake.

As for the baseball teams, there were eight this year, the most they’d ever had. They would be competing to be number one. The winning team of the summer baseball tournament became town celebrities for the year. They always got first dibs at the carnival that came to town (they could skip the ride lines and take two turns in a row on the Ferris wheel), they got to use the tire swing into the creek whenever they wanted (they never had to wait to use it or take turns), and, because some of the older kids had jobs already, if you were on the winning baseball team you would often get free movie tickets and popcorn, or free ice cream if one of the other kids was working. There was an unspoken rule, a reverence, that the winning team had with the other kids in town, they were Gods among mortals, they would want for nothing, ask for anything, and receive it. The winning team also gets crowned with Coca-Cola canned bottle crowns that Barty thinks look stupid, but everyone else seems way too into them.

This all happens without the supervision of any adults. It was the most sacred vow that everyone tried not to break. No adults allowed. Adults always had the propensity to ruin things. They would think too hard about things, create problems that didn’t exist, and they would shut the baseball tournament down. This year, like last year, the games don’t start until one in the morning, while almost every adult is asleep soundly in their beds, getting ready for work the next morning. Of course, more than a few adults know about this tournament, and most don’t care. Regulus’ mother, like Barty’s father, is allergic to fun, so they’re both banned from going. Some kids have meltdowns over being banned from the games. Two years ago, a game couldn’t be played because two players were grounded and the team had to forfeit.

The stakes and the pressure were always high.

The stakes were high for Barty this year too, even if he wasn’t playing. He looks at Regulus as they come to the end of the street, shuffling feet. Regulus' house looms behind him, and Barty can see Walburga watching from the window on the second floor, peering purse-lipped through the curtains.

Barty’s hands stay in his pockets. “I guess I’ll see you then.”

Regulus nods. His face doesn’t waver but his eyes sparkle with secrecy. “Yeah, later.”

—

Throwing rocks at people’s windows is the worst.

Barty isn’t enthused.

First, he had to collect a bunch of rocks to stuff his pockets with on the way over, second, it was dark and there weren’t any street lights on Regulus’ street so everything looked exactly the same, and third, he was rapidly running out of rocks.

He skims them lightly at first. Tap. Tap. Tap.

They bounce off the glass of Regulus’ window in soft thuds.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Jesus Christ, how long did it take for Regulus to sneak out and come down?

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Barty’s annoyed now. Maybe he wasn’t throwing them hard enough?

He throws the next few with more force.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

He keeps throwing them until he’s out of rocks.

Now what?

He stands on the side of Regulus’ house, trying to squint up into the dark window. He’s not sure if Regulus would turn a light on in the house and risk it, but it looks like nothing is going on in there. Regulus had promised him that he wasn’t a deep sleeper.

Outside the crickets chirp in song and the blades of grass tickle Barty’s ankles as the night breeze causes them to sway.

Fuck it.

Barty picks up a much larger rock that’s at his feet, and forgetting himself for a moment, he throws it with all the strength of the last throw and then some. The glass breaks and shatters with a delicious noise, but Barty can't admire it, because he’s already turning on his heel and running.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Past the first house and then the second and then–

Oh.

His feet all but screech to a halt on the pavement as he looks up at Regulus’ house. Regulus’ real house. This time he’s sure of it.

It’s not his fault everything looks the same in the dark.

Barty shrugs, trying to calm his racing heart and catch his breath as he leans down to pick up some smaller rocks from the ground.

As quietly as he can, he stalks over to the side of the house Regulus’ bedroom window is on, and starts the process over.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

He uses a much lighter touch.

Thankfully, Regulus comes out after nine stones, no lights ever turned on inside the Black family residence.

“I’m surprised you don’t play,” Barty says as they walk side-by-side to the baseball field.

“Why’s that?” Regulus looks at him like he’s sprouted another head.

Barty shrugs, looking up at the waxing moon. “Your whole family does. Sirius and Andromeda are on a team. And Narcissa’s a pitcher. Bellatrix is on Tom’s team. Also a pitcher. You mean to tell me you haven’t thought about it?”

“Narcissa plays?” Regulus furrows his brows. “I didn’t know that.”

There was a lot about summer baseball that Regulus didn’t know. Barty takes it upon himself to explain on the walk over.

“There are really only three teams to beat in this tournament. Tom’s team, they’re the Death Eaters, that’s their team name. Nobody likes them and everyone is afraid of them because they play dirty. Last year, Bellatrix beamed Remus in the nose so hard that she broke it. Tom ordered it. Then you’ve got the Serpents, they’re my favorites. That’s the one Narcissa plays on. They haven’t won a tournament ever, but this is their year. Trust me. And then there’s,” Barty rolls his eyes for dramatic effect. “The Lions or whatever the fuck.”

“Horrible team name,” Regulus’ mouth twists up into a smile.

“Truly,” Barty nods. “James Potter is the captain, right-hand man is your brother, and they of course have recruited the legendary Frank Longbottom to come back and steal the baseball title from Tom’s Death Eaters. It was a huge upset when Tom’s team won two years ago, so much so that Frank quit the following year, and Tom won again, and now,” Barty shrugs. “I guess he’s back.”

“So the Lions are like the founding team?” Regulus asks, and Barty nods. He’s surprised Regulus doesn’t know this from his brother.

“Yeah, the original team. Doesn’t mean they’re gonna win though, even with Frank. Tom might actually kill somebody before he lets that happen.”

“But the Lions, they’re the favorites?”

Barty fake gags. “Depends on who you ask. Not my favorites.”

“Mine neither,” Regulus says decisively.

Barty wonders if he’s thinking about all of the lion posters and memorabilia that Sirius used to keep in his bedroom. Regulus would always complain about the bright red and gold team colors and the obnoxious designs, but he doesn’t complain about anything anymore now that Sirius’ room is empty.

Barty looked out for him then. When Sirius packed up everything and ran away to James’ house. It was odd, Regulus seemed to be the only one who knew what it was then. Walburga and Orion seemed to be in denial. Sirius would come home, it was an extended sleepover– which they were never allowed to have, Sirius would realize how good he had it and he’d come back. Only Regulus seemed to understand that they’d never live under the same roof again.

Barty was there. He was there while Regulus ranted and raved and paced and shook his fists at the sky. He was there when Regulus crumpled up like a sheet of paper and collapsed in on himself, shoulders shaking in silent cries. He was there when Sirius spent every second trying to convince Regulus to come to James’ house with him, begged Regulus to talk to him, tried to pass him letters in the street that Regulus would let fall to the pavement. And he was there when Regulus picked himself up and pretended as if the entire affair was beneath him.

They were there for each other. Alway had been. Barty would never leave like Sirius did. He wouldn’t dream of it. He’d stick around as long as Regulus would let him, as pathetic as that sounded. He’d like to think that Regulus would stick around too. Regulus with his dark eyes and all-too-serious look of someone always deep in thought. Sharp, gray eyes that narrowed in displeasure at everything. It took a lot of effort to get Regulus to smile, even more effort to make him laugh. Barty had never done something so rewarding. The surge he felt in his chest whenever Regulus would grin or laugh at something Barty had said was addicting. It made him lightheaded and delirious.

“Look what I brought,” Barty grins, pulling out the flask from his back pocket. The silver can glints in the moonlight.

Regulus’ hand reaches to grab at the flask as they walk in time. Barty likes the way their feet sound on the pavement when they’re in step. He hates that he’s been having thoughts like these more and more frequently. He can’t fucking help himself.

Regulus takes a swig and does his best not to shudder as the warm liquor lights a fire down his throat. Barty finds it slightly endearing as he raises his eyebrows at Regulus, waiting for him to cough and sputter. It never comes.

Barty watches as Regulus licks his lips and hands the flask back to Barty, cheeks pink. Barty is overcome with the desire to kiss him, to taste the honeyed bourbon still on his lips and feel the lightning bolts race through his veins, but he contains himself. Another annoying and incessant thought.

In an attempt to recover, he swings hard at Regulus’ shoulder, harder than he should, as he tuts, “Don’t drink it all, save some for the game.”

Regulus turns to him once more, face indignant as he rubs his arm where Barty has just punched. “Fuck you, I barely even drank any.”

“It looked like a big swallow to me.”

Now it was Regulus’ turn to punch Barty, but there was no heat behind it. “Fucking hell, I told you to stop swinging on me like that. I’ll break your nose next time, I swear to God.”

Barty grins. “Is that a promise?”

“Freak,” Regulus shakes his head, but he’s back to being amused.

“You love it.”

They make it to the field early, but there are already people streaming in with bright battery-operated lights for the game, talking excitedly to themselves. A team is warming up the field, practicing their swings and stretching, Barty listens to the clatter of the bleachers that someone had brought to the lot two years ago. He’s not sure how they did it.

He watches Regulus watch the scene in wonder.

“They have concession stands?” He asks, looking at the girl and boy selling things on the pavement in front of the lot. They both sit at a little plastic table with plastic chairs, their sign advertises what they're selling, crackerjack, peanuts, sodas, trail mix, lemonade.

“Uh, I guess,” Barty shrugs. “That’s new. Seems a bit much.”

Still, he buys two bags of boiled peanuts and two cokes for them anyway.

Mundungus Fletcher and his friends are there, calling out to everyone to join in the bets. Tonight is the last night to enter.

Regulus stops by and drops off a few things, about ten dollars, 4 packs of gum, sunglasses with flames up the side that used to belong to Sirius, and 5 spinning tops.

“Regulus Black,” Mundungus fills out his name in the notebook in inky black pen, carefully recording the list of everything he’s brought. “Let me guess, you’re betting it all on the Lions?”

His voice is loud and booming, with the confidence of a sports announcer but the underlying hint of deception like a used car salesman.

“No,” Regulus scowls at him.

“Oh, I just assumed because of your brother that–”

“I want to bet it all on the Serpents. I hear their pitcher is really good.”

Barty smiles as Mundungus nods. “And you Crouch? Any last-minute bets?”

Barty shakes his head. “I’ve already got over $50 in the game. I have to draw the line somewhere.”

Regulus signs on the dotted line confirming his entry and they make their way to the bleachers. Even though it’s dark out, it’s still uncomfortably warm outside. Some kids have brought battery-operated handheld fans with styrofoam propellers to keep them cool. Others have ice packs.

Barty figures that he can just sit behind someone with a fan and benefit from the airflow. The bleachers begin to fill up as the game draws closer. Kids bring signs elaborately decorated with all of their best art supplies. Glitter glue, puff paint, rhinestones, and neon markers. Some have even painted their faces.

Barty and Regulus spot Remus Lupin at the same time. He’s walking towards a group of kids scrambling to set up a radio and microphone at the announcer's table.

“One. Two. One. Two,” Remus says into the microphone and it resounds throughout the lot, as a hush falls in the bleachers.

“He’s not playing?” Regulus leans in to ask Barty, his shoulder brushing against him.

Barty shakes his head. “Not since the Bellatrix incident, no. He’s no good anymore. Flinches when the ball comes towards him, forgets to swing the bat.”

“Remus Lupin?” Regulus’ eyebrows shoot up like he doesn’t believe it. But he doesn’t have to believe it, he can see Remus take his place at the announcer's table.

Remus runs the scoreboard, calls the players up, and explains the plays for the kids who don’t really know what’s going on. Mary MacDonald helps him with the music and the score when she’s not playing, otherwise, Rita Skeeter helps out, much to the annoyance of everyone.

“Oh, what the fuck,” Regulus snorts. “What’s next, they bring out someone to sing the national anthem?”

“Don’t give them any ideas.”

The mood shifts in the stadium as they get ready to begin. Remus clears his throat in the microphone and it emits an ear-splitting feedback. Still, some kids were trickling in, sitting in the grass now that the bleachers were full.

On the other side of the field, sat the other teams that weren’t playing that night, just behind the makeshift dugouts.

“They like to sit and scope out the competition. They keep to themselves,” Barty explains when Regulus asks. “Can’t mingle with the common folk.”

Regulus scoffs, but Barty doesn’t miss the way his eyes search for Sirius across the field. When Regulus finds him, Sirius sits up straighter, already looking back. He goes to raise a hand to wave at him but Regulus turns his head away sharply, making a show of it.

Barty watches as Sirius moves to stand up like he’s going to run over to them and talk to Regulus, but a blonde girl, Marlene McKinnon, grabs his arm and pulls him down as the first players run out onto the field.

Remus introduces the two teams, the Death Eaters versus the Badgers. All around them, kids shake their yellow signs exuberantly, while some sport all black signs with skulls on them.

The Badgers are going to get destroyed. Anyone with half a brain would know it the minute they heard the match-up. While you had to be 12-17 to play, most of the kids on the Badgers’ team were closer to 12, whereas the Death Eaters were all 17. Barty was actually certain that a few of the kids were 18 or 19 and only getting by because they’d been held back a year or two in school.

He starts listening in to what Remus is saying as he passes Regulus his bag of boiled peanuts.

“With starting pitcher Bellatrix Black, and your team captain, Tom Riddle.”

The stands go wild, everyone stomping their feet on the metal bleachers causing a thunderous metal rumble and Regulus’ eyes widen at the commotion.

“Let’s play ball,” Remus called, rather monotone and complacent about the ordeal.

Regulus snorts. “This is beneath him.”

Barty nods in agreement.

Since there were eight teams in the tournament, there would be seven rounds total. Each round was a best-of-three battle to move on, for a maximum of 21 games, 21 nights, of baseball madness. They were guaranteed at least 14. Two full weeks of baseball. The event of the summer.

They watch as Bellatrix takes the pitcher's mound, licking up little clouds of dirt with her feet. He knocks his knee against Regulus’ at his cousin taking in both the crowd’s cheers and boos. Barty pours some of the bourbon into his Coke can and does the same for Regulus.

Bellatrix’s wild hair was long and curly, falling down her back. It was only kept out of her face by a black baseball cap, and she smiles sharply at the stands.

A soft tune plays as a short kid with spiky brown hair walks up to home plate, giving his bat a few test swings in preparation.

“I heard she puts some kind of resin or wax on her baseball cap to make the ball sticky,” Barty whispers like it’s some kind of secret.

“I believe it,” Regulus says, also leaning in. Barty tries to ignore the lightning bolts. The static frequency once again turned up a notch. “She used to cheat in every game we played growing up.”

They share a look as Bellatrix puts her fingers to the brim of her baseball hat and nods, baseball glove at the ready. The atmosphere has gone quiet like everyone is holding their breaths. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

The kid at home plate assumes position and Bellatrix winds up. The ball moves so fast that Barty doesn’t have time to register it, and neither does the kid at home plate, as the ball hits the catcher’s mitt with a hard thud.

“Strike one,” Remus’ voice echoes, and the spell is broken.

The crowd roars to life once more.

Barty and Regulus get lost in the atmosphere, the crack of the bat, the whizz of the ball, the cheers of people telling their friends to steal third. They crunch through their boiled peanuts and slowly work their way through their cokes, which get stronger as time passes, due to Barty constantly topping them up with flask bourbon.

At the top of the third, a Badger player manages a triple on Bellatrix, running in two of her teammates, so Bellatrix beams her at the top of the fourth, and lets her walk. It doesn’t matter though, the score is already 6-2. At the bottom of the sixth, Tom scores the first home run of the night, and more than a few of the silly girls from high school chirp and cheer loudly, making heart eyes in his direction.

“I mean,” Regulus leans in to whisper. “I kinda get it.”

Barty screws up his face in disgust. “Fuck no.”

He makes more than a few sarcastic remarks and snarky comments, all of which make Regulus laugh or smile. Barty is humming with delight, but he desperately tries to curtail it. Regulus is also getting into the game. It’s a gradual interest, but Barty finds that he’s watching Regulus more than the game. He watches as Regulus’ eyes furrow when someone gets an out, watches the slight smile grace his face as Bellatrix throws a particularly nasty screwball, watches Regulus’ vague curiosity at Tom’s simpering smirk. At some point, their knees touch, and they stay that way for the remainder of the night. Regulus, who shies away from any sort of contact, hasn't moved his knee away.

Barty fucking loves baseball.

The game ends at a brutal 11-2 at the top of the ninth inning. Though, to the Badger’s credit, they do not look defeated or deterred. They seem more than pleased with their two runs, all jostling and shaking the girl who made it possible with wide smiles and congratulations.

The bourbon has satiated Barty and left his head perfectly hazy. He offers a lazy smile to Regulus. “Walk you home?”

It’s late, and he’s feeling tired, he’s sure Regulus feels the same.

Regulus nods, finishing off the last of the coke, and subsequently the last of the bourbon.

“Can’t let you sleep through morning violin lessons, or French tutoring, or whatever the fuck your weird-ass family has you do.”

“Piano.” Regulus rolls his eyes as he corrects Barty. His cheeks are tinged slightly pink and his eyes are a little glassy.

Barty bites his lip to keep from smiling. What a lightweight.

They’re almost out of the field, about to slip down the quiet streets, when Regulus is pulled back by a hand on his shoulder.

Barty spins around to see Sirius with a group of his teammates.

“You came?” Is the first thing out of Sirius’ mouth.

“Not for you, for Barty,” Regulus shoots off just as quickly.

Sirius’ teammates stare at the ground nervously. He makes note of them. The blonde girl from before, Marlene, and he’d know James Potter anywhere. He’s never seen James without Sirius. And the redhead, Lily.

“Well, we play in four nights if you want to watch,” James offers a slight smile. “I’m James, by the way.”

Regulus regards him coldly. “I know who you are.”

“I just wanted to, uh, say hi.” Sirius’ voice is stilted, odd. Almost pained. Barty makes it his duty to glare daggers at him.

“Well, don’t do it again,” Regulus says smoothly, and Barty can tell he doesn’t mean it.

So can Sirius, as he smiles.

“You know we could always use an extra player on our team.”

“In your fucking dreams, Sirius.”

“Come on, we want to get uniforms made,” Sirius offers again, as if this fact would entice Regulus.

He doesn’t know Regulus like Barty knows him. Regulus would hate wearing matching baseball uniforms. He would detest it. He’d rather die.

Marlene rolls her eyes. “James just wants to prance about in those tight little pants.”

“Yeah,” James shoots back quickly. “And all the girls want to see me prance about in those tight little pants, and who am I to deny the people what they desperately want?”

Lily scoffs as Regulus turns to leave, dragging Barty with him.

“Wait,” Sirius calls. “Are you coming back tomorrow?”

“Maybe. It’s none of your business,” Regulus snaps as they walk out of earshot.

They’re striding down the pavement, no shuffling feet and no delay of time, as Regulus huffs.

“Wait,” Barty can’t help himself from asking. “We are going back tomorrow, right?”

Apart from the Sirius interlude, he had a good time with Regulus. And he figures if Sirius hadn’t ambushed them, then he and Regulus would be taking their sweet time walking home. Time that Barty craved more than anything.

“Yeah,” Regulus nods shortly. “I shouldn’t have talked to him. I should’ve just ignored him.”

“Well, he did make it kind of difficult to do that,” Barty reasons as Regulus fumes.

“Fuck, and then stupid fucking James Potter trying to be so–”

“Annoying,” Barty says at the time Regulus says charming.

He tries to ignore the funny thing his heart does in his chest as they both fall into stunned silence.

“Well,” Barty breathes out. “Not what I was going to say.”

“No, I just mean– you heard him,” Regulus says quickly, taking on a crude imitation of James’ voice. “I’m James. I wear tight pants and steal people’s brothers from them for fun.”

Barty snorts. “Yeah, what a dick.”

Regulus nods and repeats after him. “A dick.”

But it doesn’t sound like Regulus really means it. No one can be both charming and a dick. It doesn’t work like that.

Barty walks Regulus all the way to his house, doing his best to skirt the home with the broken window.

Regulus smiles at him softly. “It was fun.”

He admits it like a secret, like it reluctantly has to be true.

Barty nods in agreement, fighting off the urge to punch Regulus again. “Same time tomorrow, baseball boy?”

Regulus nods, his hand brushing against Barty’s slightly before he turns to head inside through the propped-open window on the bottom floor.

Barty stands on the street corner, just him and chirping crickets as he waits for Regulus to flick his bedroom lights on and off to show he’s made it. Once he does, Barty heads towards his house, trying to ignore the parts of his hand that Regulus has touched crackling to life.

85 notes · View notes

maaarshieee · 2 years ago

Note

Okay so: How about giving Wanderer, Pantalone, Dottore and Alhaitham flowers 👀

Pick some flowers for them. What's their reaction? Put them in their hair too. Make them a flower crown!

⎯⎯ ୨ Flowers For You! (HCs) ୧ ⎯⎯

ੈ♡˳ Alhaitham, Dottore, Pantalone & Wanderer x Gn!Reader *ೃ༄

ੈ♡˳ Masterlist *ೃ༄

author's note ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

THEY'RE INFESTING MY MIND RN,, THEY'RE ALL SKRUNKLIES,, ty for the request this is ... so soft... omg,,, FINALLY NEW BANNER FOR WANDERER BC OF THAT BDAY ART HEHEHE,, ok i might've had brain rotted too hard on pantalone esp bc the song "call out my name" came up from my playlist while writing him..... have a good day/night!! <33 oh! noticed were mutuals,, got an emoji for ur mutual tag ?? hehe,,

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ cw: canon typical violence, longer than i anticipated, injuries, made up flowers on wanderer's part

"What are you doing?"

"Decorating!" Was your only reply.

Inside the library that Alhaitham often resides in, with piles of books on his table, legs crossed as he read peacefully, you stood behind him, hands raking through his silky hair.

A while ago, you entered the library with a bright smile on your face, a bunch of flowers gathered in your arms. Alhaitham was pleased with your sudden visit, even if his outward appearance was of annoyance, choosing to 'ignore' your existence instead.

Huffing humorously at his attitude, you greeted him cheerfully, giving him a quick peck on the cheek (where he subtly leaned his body to the side to chase your lips for a longer kiss) before placing down the flowers you'd freshly picked from the forest during your forest ranger patrols.

You often brought him flowers after finishing your patrols, always dropping them wherever he was so he'd usually be walking home with a bouquet in his hands. He didn't particularly mind, in fact, he absolutely cherished them, especially when you always put so much thought and effort into them.

Each day you bring a new bouquet, they'd be bundled in different shades of green crepe paper, ribbons, and various designs you could think of, and you do it all by yourself. Even so far refusing opinions from others, pouring all your creativity and adoration for him into each bouquet. You even pick a diverse variation of flowers that would mix and match, then you would list off the meanings of each flower, its anatomy and the role plays in the ecosystem, basically info dumping him.

And each time, Alhaitham would close his book, leaving a bookmark on the page he was reading, and turn his head to you, listening to every word you say and even engaging in a deep conversation with you about biology. In each conversation, each discussion, he learns something new about plants, and he's able to bask in your loving presence, watching your hands fluidly move with your words, noticing the way the corners of your eyes crinkle from the big grin on your face. It's always the tiniest details that warm Alhaitham's heart.

But today was a little different, he supposes. As soon as you got close to where he sat, he took note that you hadn't brought him a bouquet this time, which earned you a raised brow from him. All you responded with was a small mischievous smirk on your lips as you put down the flowers you had gathered that day onto a chair next to him and got behind his back.

Alhaitham hadn't expected you to visit him that day since he had told you he'd be pretty busy, that's why he had a lot more books on his table than usual. And yet here you are, with a plan brewing inside your pretty little head that Alhaitham would just have to let himself fall victim to. It was distracting, sure, but it's you.

So he didn't tell you off and instead allowed you to bury your fingers into his hair, tenderly massaging his scalp and running your hands through his fluffy hair, softly humming a tune near his ear. Soon, you began to put flowers into his hair, playing with his hair and silently giggling behind him.

All the while Alhaitham immersed himself in the books he read, not minding your pestering one bit. As long as you didn't completely distract him from reading, he would let this (and many others things) slide.

From there, you compared Alhaitham to a cat, holding back a snort at the comparison. Whenever you pulled your hands away from his head, he would chase your touch subconsciously, yearning for more. When you still your hands in his hair, he would turn his head to look at you questioningly, an unimpressed glint in his eyes.

And while Alhaitham hasn't spoken a single word after the question he had asked a few moments ago, you could tell that he was enjoying this more than he could let on. His tense muscles had relaxed, leaning back on his chair and, from time to time, you'd catch his eyes flutter close before he'd blink to pull himself out of his sleepiness, he even had a small tugging at the corners of his lips.

He didn't make a move to take out the flowers you had put into his hair once he got up from his seat, returning the books from their respective shelves. Internally chuckling at the image of the blank-faced scribe walking around with flowers littered in his hair, you decided to play nice and reached up to his hair to remove them.

Only for your hands to be swatted away by Alhaitham and receive a halfhearted glare from your dearest lover.

It was quite endearing that Alhaitham did not give a care to anyone who saw him with a head full of flowers, and hair a little messy from all your playing and rubbing, but he ignored their stares, his eyes only focused on you as you walked side by side back to your shared home.

"Hey, Dottie," Hearing your voice from the doorway of his personal office, Dottore paid you no mind and continued to write on his whiteboard with a few other segments behind him. A few segments gave you a brief glance, before returning to the tasks they were assigned with. "Hey Dot, Dottie, Dotdot," You continued annoyingly, listing away all the nicknames you could think of at the top of your head, getting more absurd when you're slowly running out of ideas.

With a sigh, finally popped back the cap of his marker and turned to look at you, only to see you holding a bunch of baskets in your hands and... 2 of his segments holding similar baskets but with flower crowns on their heads. Truly, what a sight to see. You hailed all the way from a couple nations you had to stop by for your mission only to come back and immediately cause some shenanigans inside his laboratory.

Dottore couldn't help the sigh that escaped his lips once again as he started walking toward you, eyeing the flower baskets the 3 of you held that were filled to the brim with various flora he was quite familiar with. Letting you put down the baskets on a table, he turned his head to the 2 segments trailing behind your back with a scowl on his face. "You may leave," He orders, before adding. "And take those off."

To his surprise, they hesitated to follow his order, hands froze in midair as if they were contemplating whether to obey or not. Now that greatly irked the Doctor, seeing that 2 of his creations had the gall to not obey right away in front of him, only to be calmed down by you by putting a hand on his shoulder. "Oh c'mon, leave them be. They're just flower crowns, let them have it." You reasoned, gesturing to the 2 segments to move along while Dottore had his attention on you.

With a smirk taking over your features, your hands settled on your hips when you jerked your head in the direction of the baskets you had brought proudly. "Besides, I got you a lot more." Dottore narrowed his eyes at you, dismissing the other segments present inside his office more, taking a few steps closer to you, arms crossed. "What exactly are these?"

You passed a basket to him and he took it, observing the contents of it before widening his eyes slightly, hands now caressing the leaves and petals of the flora you've brought to him. "My recent mission had me running around Teyvat for a bit, so I grabbed everything I could." You explained, eyeing one corner of his office. It had pictures of flora he needed for his experiments, a definitive list of everything he wanted that are plant-based to set a project onward and help with his research. "Be it mythical, illegal, rarest of the rare, or the most expensive, nothing escaped me."

A big, maniacal grin soon blossomed on his face as he further examined the multiple baskets, small giggles emitting from him here and there. Satisfied at his reaction, you proudly crossed your arms and your smirk grew. "My my, whatever is the reason you've become so generous?"

With a mere shrug, you walked behind him, laying your chin on his shoulder as you watched him eagerly sort through the flora you'd given him. "Just wanted to further our research, is all," At that, his movements paused and his grin faltered, head turning to look at you. You blinked at him, before realizing what you'd just said.

"Well, also because I wanted to spoil my dearest partner." You tried to save yourself, though it was the actual truth. Dottore seemed to think your words over, before menacingly smiling at you. "Oh, so they get one of those and not me?" Was he serious? You stared at him incredulously. Well, you guess you couldn't blame him. You mistakenly had told him the gift you had prepared for him was simply for your experiments, not for him.

But you couldn't help it. You let out a small, breathless chuckle before digging your hands inside one of the baskets that held flora that isn't much required for your experiments and began to work for your hands. Dottore watched you while you twisted the stems of each flora, organizing the petals and making them look as pretty as you could, tying them up neatly.

Dottore had pursed his lips as he observed, his expression growing sour when he peeked outside of his office to see a majority of the segments outside had flower crowns on their heads. They all seemed to be containing the joy they had upon receiving a flower crown, while the unlucky ones that doesn't have any were sulking and glaring at the luckier segments.

It seemed to upset Dottore, even more, to see he's one of the unlucky ones, unintentionally beginning to sulk like the rest of them. You had to hold back your laughter when you saw a big frown on his face, eyeing angrily at his segments but you opted to explain yourself to avoid his wrath.

"I thought you'd be satisfied enough with all the stuff I got you, so I didn't make you a flower crown." You said, earning Dottore's attention once more as you kept adding the prettiest flowers you could get your hands on, "I'd imagine you wouldn't want others to see you with such things on you so..." Finalizing the flower crown you made just for him, you turned to face him once more, a sheepish smile on your lips.

"But I suppose I was wrong, making my lover feel jealous." Dottore scowled at your words, opening his mouth to deny it but you just shot him an amused look, presenting him with the flower crown. Compared to the ones you've made for the segments, you put a lot of thought into the flower crown you made for him. It wasn't as messy, considering that you were frequently on the run during your mission whilst you made them.

"I'm sorry my love... Is this enough to earn your forgiveness?" Gently placing the flower crown on his head, pulling back a strand of his hair behind his ear. You then gave him your best puppy eyes on him, knowing full well that it wouldn't work on him. Despite this face, you still liked doing it, putting your hands on his chest.

Dottore didn't speak, only cupping your cheek with his gloved hand. He didn't like the fact that he has a flower crown on his head, but he suppose that he could tolerate it just for you since you made it for him after all. Since it was an act of seeking forgiveness.

How thoughtful of his lover. To bring him so many important materials for his research and make him a flower crown. And you easily got the message that he had forgiven you when he pressed a small, fleeting kiss on your forehead.

The Regrator has it all. He is rich, very rich, so of course, he does. So you can't help but feel a tad insecure whenever you think about giving him something.

You? A mere adventurer who does commissions for a living and even often helps the people around you for free?

How do flowers you've picked while you were doing commissions in a different region compete with the literal huge gardens Pantalone has at the mansions he has all over Teyvat? Every time he brings you to one of his 'vacation homes', you always find yourself lost in the beautiful paradise of flora that he owns.

It's the thought that counts, you argue with yourself. While it's true, it doesn't stop you from hesitating whether to even give the bouquet you've prepared for your dearest lover. Maybe you shouldn't have if you were being honest. Pantalone, in your eyes, was the embodiment of elegance.

He was gorgeous; the smile that's always etched on his lips makes your palms sweat, especially when they're always so genuine whenever they're directed at you. Skin fair, face as refined as smoothed jade. His expression was a balanced mix of sharp frostiness and a polite gleam of warmth, both authoritative and welcoming.

Immaculate and pristine clothing could only be worn, from his coat, gloves, and even the material of his glasses; all were top quality and handmade by professionals amongst professionals. With each calculated step, his entire being is the epitome of wealth.

So who were you to sully the beauty he has with simple flowers that you've handpicked from the forests you've roamed in? Sure, you've cleaned them as much as you could, but giving him flowers that weren't grown in quality gardens- you'd be ruining his image!

Clutching the DIY bouquet you've organized the flowers in, you almost sank to your knees as you continued to mull over your decisions, sulking right in front of Pantalone's office door. It has been 20 minutes since you arrived and the guards stationed near his office have been pitifully glancing at your predicament.

Just as you were about to take a step back and throw the bouquet you'd made, deciding to just do more commissions and earn more mora (and not use the mora he kept giving you) to buy him something more presentable and pleasing to the eye, Pantalone opened the door.

You froze in your spot, but the grip on the bouquet you held tightened to the point it would've been broken. Pantalone was shocked to see you just standing motionlessly at his door, not expecting you to have you back so soon.

Immediately, Pantalone's expression softened and his smile widened. His shoulders relaxed and his body felt lighter just at the mere sight of you, and the feeling of laughter bubbling up his chest when he saw your stupefied face.

You fought the urge to bolt or throw the flowers in your hands to an unsuspecting guard and pretend as if nothing had happened. You stood your ground, no matter how hard your heart was beating against your ribcage when his eyes traveled down, catching sight of the bouquet.

Pantalone's face evidently brightened at the sight of it, the corners of his lips curving upwards. "For me?" He says in a fond tone as his hands reached for the bouquet, but you instinctively flinch back, surprising Pantalone. You quickly stuttered out; "I-I... yeah, yeah it is..." You learned your throat, averting your eyes from him and shamefully bowing down your head.

"But, well, you shouldn't take it. I just picked them in the forest when I was back in Sumeru because when I saw how pretty the flowers were, I thought about you... They're not high quality, so I can just buy you better ones—" You didn't even realize you'd begun rambling, so you were cut off abruptly when Pantalone took the bouquet from your arms anyways, caressing the petals with his gloved hands, his smile never leaving his handsome face.

Then, he gently grabbed your chin and lifted it up with his index finger and his thumb so you'd look at him eye to eye. Before you could say something, he captured your lips against his, tilting your head slightly to the side to deepen the kiss.

Heat exploded on your face, eyes widening at the sudden kiss but you indulge yourself in it nonetheless, kissing back fervently and clutching his coat shakily. You let out a small noise when Pantalone licked your bottom lip, satisfied at the delectable sight of your red face, before pulling away a little.

"I absolutely love them, my dear." He muttered against your skin, taking a step closer to you. "I'm delighted that even when you're out on your travels, you still think of me, so I will cherish these flowers you've given me, for they remind me of your love for me."

Those words sent chills up your spine, and you couldn't suppress the smile forming on your lips and the sigh of relief that escaped through your nose.

"Now, why don't you tell me more about these flowers?"

As a seasoned adventurer, you've equipped yourself with various knowledge of anything that could help you in your survival in the outside world. Perking up at his request, you eagerly nodded at that as the words spilled from your mouth whilst Pantalone led you inside his office, shutting the door close.

And thus the beginning of you always bringing him a fresh bouquet of flowers every time you come back from your commissions, then recounting your wide knowledge of flora to your lover.

And every time, Pantalone would listen intently, learning how to care for the flowers as per your instruction if it meant he could listen to your voice more with such enthusiasm, quell your feelings of inferiority in your relationship, and ignore his piling paperwork to spend more of his time with you.

The Wanderer never really understood the sentiment of giving flowers to your lover. So what if they gave you flora? They're just plants that look pretty and usually smelled good. It was a romantic gesture, others would say. It shows the thoughtfulness you had for your lover, it's why you'd gift them flowers! But would it still be counted as very thoughtful if it's such a common thing lovers do to one another?

He doesn't truly get it, so he had absolutely no idea how to react when you came back to the camp you set up for the night, a wild grin on your face with a bunch of cuts and bruises on your body, your hair one big mess and your clothes were torn and dirty, though you cradled a bunch of flowers in your arms protectively. Well, besides being concerned for your entire being and getting absolutely mad at your lacking self-preservation.

"Just what were you thinking, picking flowers near a Hilichurl Camp without your weapon!? Are you trying to get yourself killed!?" He scolded you whilst he cleaned your wounds, intentionally adding pressure enough to make you wince and hiss in pain to both stops the blow flowing out and punish you for your foolishness, deathly glaring at you.

But you merely had a sheepish smile on your lips as you watched your lover fuss over your wellbeing, wrapping you in bandages and scolding you like a mother whose child had run off to do whatever. To be fair, he had warned about the Hilichurl camp near yours, and that you both agreed to leave it be for now since it was late at night already, but when he told you to grab more firewood, you still went to the Hiluchurl camp unarmed all because some 'pretty flowers' caught your eyes.

Offering you a fresh set of clothing, he let you get dressed whilst he went back to cooking, eyeing the bundle of flowers you left near him. Just why did you get through all that trouble for a bunch of flowers? You can buy flowers at multiple flower shops all over Teyvat! He doesn't understand at all, grumpily huffing under his breath.

You told him that those flowers were for him, that it was worth the trouble. It took all of his willpower to not smack you with the wooden ladle he had in his hand, only gritting his teeth and glaring at you. But for some reason, you were extremely unbothered by your injuries, only apologizing to your partner for worrying him. You kept caressing the flowers with a big grin on your face, features softening as you admired them.

So, he had to ask. "Is there any other reason why you had to get these for me?" He crossed his arms, eyeing you warily. You never ceased to caress the damp petals of the flowers, only scooping them back in your arms and giving them to him.

"They remind me of you." At your answer, he raised a brow. How does a bunch of flowers remind you of me? "I read in a book once that these rare flowers symbolize new beginnings, a fresh new start, and hope." You started, sitting close to him and leaning your body against his, staring up at the night sky. "They grow in an unhealthy environment and start off like wilting little buds of flowers, but the more it grows, the more it blossoms into a beautiful flower."

Slowly, his eyes trailed down to the flowers in his arms, piecing them together bit by bit in his mind. He held the flowers closer to him as he continued to listen to your words. "In the midst of burnt forests, these flowers usually grow at the heart of the disaster, sprouting beauty in hapless surroundings." You finish with a sparkle in your eyes, now gazing at him fondly.

Trying to hide his expression with his hat, he merely responded with; "Hope and new beginnings truly fit this flower then." Though his voice was steady, the same couldn't be said the same with his body, which lightly trembled. Your hand found itself in his, lacing your fingers together. You were relieved that he didn't pull away from your hold, only squeezing your hand as he hugged the meaningful flowers in his arms.

These flowers greatly reminded you of him. Not only because of its appearance, but also what it symbolizes. You admired him as if he was the flowers that you picked near that Hilichurl camp, marveling at the beauty of his new life, the hope in his eyes, and his will to finally live without the strings that were attached to him.

The Wanderer may never get why other couples would give each other flowers; may never understand what's so sentimental about it, but he now knows why you chose to give him those flowers... And it meant quite a lot to him.

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