hi!!! rosekiller and 66 for the drabble ask game <3
hello!!! oh this one is very exciting. to me. a little rosekiller + “The only thing I want is you.” this is very cute and fluffy which i don’t think we get to see a lot of when it comes to these two silly guys…anyway here we go! (also i got really carried away with this one and far too excited so it’s definitely longer than i thought i’d make it so sorry? or not?)
“—and I actually got to sit in with the hygienist. Holding tools and everything. Properly looking into someone’s mouth. Fucking teeth,” and a softer, “teeth.” Eyes widening from sheer excitement. “Which, by the way, lovely teeth. Very well taken care of, but like—give me gross. Give me terrible, terrible teeth. I want to fix.”
It goes without explicitly saying, Evan has had the absolute time of his life. And as Barty sits beside him, a joint lazily perched between his fingertips, he can’t help but be mesmerized by the boy beside him. Has been for years, and somehow, with each passing day, the fondness and love never waver.
There’s probably something in there about being inexplicable soulmates. All romantic and lovey dovey. Had Evan not become a constant in his life—had Barty not mustered up enough courage to outright confess to Evan these bottled up feelings—Barty wouldn’t be half the man he is now.
Maybe that’s a stretch, but there is some truth in the matter.
Regardless, Barty’s heart beats steady, thrumming away to the rise and fall of Evan’s tone—bouncing carelessly in a fashion so unlike the deadly monotonous cadence of his every day inflection. The joint stays hesitant in his fingers, remaining unlit. He can’t bear to deviate a single ounce of his attention from the extraordinary tales of Evan’s experience in his dentistry clinical.
Makes all the more sense why Barty came back from having his wisdom teeth removed, only for Evan to turn his beloved teeth into a fashion statement of the goddamn century. (They have matching teeth necklaces now, thank you very much.)
There’s that point where water is boiling, the temperature rising gradually, when the bubbles start to go, not fully boiling but almost there. A gentle simmer of bubbles—that’s where Barty’s at. Until he isn’t because the temperature has risen—the fondness and adoration and love have grown. The words tumble out before he has any idea what he is doing.
Although sudden, they speak the truth.
“Marry me.”
Not a question, a statement.
“—there was blood, and—” Evan stops mid-sentence, blinking slowly at Barty. The tips of Barty’s ears are burning under the scrutiny. “Barty, did you just—”
“Yeah,” Barty murmurs, nodding once, slowly.
Evan blinks once more, lips pressed in a firm line. Eyes dead as ever. But there it is—the little twitch of his lip, threatening to tug up at the corner. Oh, the wolfish grin that takes form on Barty’s mouth. He got it.
Evan is shaking his head fondly, ghostly expression unwavering. Barty slips in a, “The only thing I want is you.”
“Huh,” Evan chuckles, the corners of his mouth finally curving up into one of those delicate smiles, specially reserved for those moments with none other than Barty Crouch Jr.
How he got so lucky? No fucking idea.
Barty reaches out, cupping Evan’s jaw in his hand and tugs. Evan’s right there, not even blinking at the sudden movement. If anything, there’s only a bit of a flicker in his eye. Something for Barty to keep in his pocket for later.
Full lips, right there. Faint freckles across the bridge of his nose, littered across the curve of his cheekbones. He moves quickly, Barty does, swooping in to steal a kiss, but halting right as there lips brush. Taking a moment to steal the breath right out of Evan. Cocks his head slightly, taunting the other boy.
“Didn’t get an answer now did I, sweetheart?” Barty teases, dropping his voice.
“Fucking idiot,” Evan hisses, smacking him across the side of the head. Barty barely has a chance to get out a dramatic ouch before Evan fists his hair and pulls him in for a searing kiss.
It’s all love. Two lovers, hands pulling apart the flesh of a pomegranate. Feeding each other seeds as the juice drips down their wrist like some bloody, foolish love. Rooted in devotion, breeching obsession. All-consuming until their bellies are full with the sweetest nectar. Taking turns, grabbing arms to glide a slow tongue along the dried, sticky rivulets of juice trickling down skin. Lapping, licking, digging until there’s nothing but the taste of bare flesh, their soulmate on their tongue.
Sometime, in the middle of their tongues dancing and teeth snipping, Evan gave his answer, “Of course it’s a fucking yes.”
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Tag Game: Last Line
Post the last line you wrote and tag the same number of people as words.
Thank you for tagging me @calenlily and @sickeningsaccharine!
But the longer it goes on, the harder it is to fight the urge to lean forward, to try and press closer; as close to the alpha as he can get.
Uhh I don’t know that many people to even tag, but I’ll list a few here if you’d like to play along: @pterawaters @stevethehousewife @jammerific @tkwritesdumbassassins
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