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03junkie · 6 months

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something has been written. I’m feeling extra in my feels today, so this is the product of that. Also CW: alcohol and recreational drug use

Midnight is truly when Barty and Evan come to life. Where the day is slow, somber and lazy, it’s the hours of the Devil when they actually enjoy life. They turn on every light in the house, and turn up the volume on their speakers. Noise complaints were frequent, but they were both rich enough to pay for the soundproofing of their neighbours’ house. Their own house? No, they didn’t care enough to alter their own home for a bunch of sensitive pricks.

Barty put on music, some rendition of Russian EDM that Evan had grown up with, owing to the fact that they’ve been around each other since they could talk. Initially, Evan hated the sound of it, but slowly, he got a taste for it. When his friends would insult the pair’s taste in music, Evan would jump to defend themselves, saying that the group of them were just too inferior to understand good music.

Being friends for about twenty years, and a couple for five, they had seen each other through all sorts of times, good, bad, ugly. Somewhere along the road of finding comfort in each other’s beds, they both had fallen hard. The kind of falling one could only dream of; crashing and burning and soaring all at the same time.

Along the years, the both of them had taken to vice. It’d been a long time coming, after escaping their houses for each other. They’d made enough of a name for themselves in the world; Barty wrote, and Evan sang. With whatever little fame they had, they’d made a near-perfect life for themselves.

Now, almost ritualistically, Evan was pulling out two crystal glasses (a housewarming gift from Reg and James), and pulling out the stopper on the decanter filled with whiskey.

“You know I’m trying to reduce alcohol, любимый,” Barty slung an arm across Evan’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. As a force of habit, Evan couldn’t help the blush settling on his cheeks.

“You’re no fun when you’re sober.” Evan jutted his lower lip out almost cartoonishly. Barty gave him a long, languid look, before sighing. He reached out for the glass settled on the counter, and drank in one gulp. He didn’t even flinch as the liquid went down. Barty poured another one for himself, and drank that as swiftly as the first.

Evan smiled, and watched as Barty moved across the room rhythmically, turning the volume up higher. Evan turned to his own glass. He preferred to drink slower, because he tended to get drunk faster than Barty. Barty had been drinking since he was thirteen, but it wasn’t a problem. He knew he could stop whenever he wanted, and he didn’t want to stop right now. The couple’s friends were concerned for Barty, but Evan always shut them down saying that he knew what was best for Barty.

“Baby, can you change the song? Это скучно.” Barty yelled from their bedroom. Evan obliged, and a very familiar melody filled the walls of their house. He heard Barty whoop in delight.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” He walked out of the room, eyelids painted with blue glitter, and a feather boa ‘round his neck. Evan laughed, not unkindly, but because he was lucky to be with someone so beautiful. Barty reached for the whiskey once again, but stopped before pouring it. “We have tequila, да?”

“Behind the other bottles on the second shelf.” Barty grinned at him, a manic quirk of the lips with something glinting in his eyes.

“You bought the expensive shit?” Evan nodded, swallowing part of his drink.

“I knew you wanted it, so I bought it.” He shrugged. Barty jumped up to his feet and ambushed Evan into a breath-restricting hug. He kissed both his cheeks a couple times.

“Я люблю тебя, baby. Really.” He laughed against Evan’s throat, and Evan felt his own chest constricting at the sound. It was his favourite thing in the world. These domestic moments tucked away in their otherwise fast-paced lives.

“I love you too, Bat,” Barty kissed him, taking his time. His hands were on Evan’s waist, guiding him into a slow dance. The music was fast, but there was something about Barty moving him so slowly and gingerly across their living room. “Your tequila’s waiting for you.”

“Shots?” Barty looked at him through his lashes, innocent and sweet.

“You already know it. There should be a lime in the fridge,” Evan watches Barty from behind, silently admiring the slope of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist. Barty was beyond beautiful, in all honesty. He was breathtaking, the same way a scenery was. One could never take their eyes off him even if they wanted to. He was the automatic center of attention of any event, and he reveled in it. He knew that his beauty was a weapon, and he wielded it with pride.

“Роза, find your stash. I’m feeling like a bit of pot today.”

“Alright, but not too much. We both know chemsex isn’t for us.” Barty laughed softly from the kitchen. Evan headed to their bedroom, flicking the lights on. He always kept a bit with him at all times. That was his vice. Barty had alcohol, and Evan had his stash of pot. From the room, he could hear Barty singing along with the song. The drunker he got, the more prominent his accent got. It wouldn’t be long before the boy was speaking purely in Russian.

Evan rejoined his boyfriend in the living room, who had already laid out multiple shot glasses in a row, with a bunch of slices of lime alongside them.

“Salt?”

“Don’t worry about it, солнышко,” Barty ruffled his hair. He picked up the salt shaker and unscrewed its lid. He shook out some salt onto the back of his palm, and licked it off. Before Evan could react, Barty was kissing him, the taste of salt filling his mouth. “Drink up, baby.”

Evan picked up a glass and threw the contents of it back into his mouth. The alcohol burned as it went down. Barty handed him a wedge of lime and he bit into it, eyes scrunching up at the sourness. He wasn’t a fan of tequila, evidently. He waved his hand around his neck, signaling that he was done. Barty pouted, eyebrows furrowed.

“Don’t be a spoilsport, Evs.” He scanned Evan’s face expectantly, and Evan couldn’t help but oblige.

“Fine, but only one more. That’s all.”

“I won’t push you for more anyway. Everyone knows what happens when you’re tipsy, or need I remind you about the time you cried when I said I was taken?” Evan scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Low blow, Bat.”

“I could take it lower.” Barty winks and Evan’s heart skips a beat. One would expect that the love between both of them would decrease over the year— especially with how maddeningly close they are— but Evan still felt flustered when Barty smiled at him, the same way he did at sixteen. Evan was, admittedly, mad for him; the way a poet is mad for a dark night, an artist mad for a muse. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for this man, and no one could stop them from being close, not life and definitely not death.

“You talk too much.” Evan reached for a second shot glass, deciding against a chaser. It would be something he’s going to regret a couple seconds from now, but that was a consequence he was willing to live with.

“Would you rather I stop?”

Making a sour face, Evan responds, “No, never.” Barty smiles a lopsided grin, far from perfect.

“Now, why would you do that? Никакого самоконтроля, говорю вам.”

“Mock me all you want in words only you understand, but don’t forget that I pay for the alcohol.” Barty’s expression switched immediately, eyes going wide in surprise.

“You know I love you, Evan. I would never mock you.”

“That’s hardly believable, but I’ll let it go this time.” Barty unwrapped the boa from his neck, looping it over Evan’s shoulders. He puts no space between them, they stand perfectly flush with each other. Barty smells like alcohol and expensive perfume; Barty smells like home.

“Dance with me, любимый.”

“Music’s too fast.”

“So we hasten.” And that was that. Barty is swinging his hips, singing loudly. Though Evan understands a small amount of Russian, he never bothered to learn it. He wanted to keep it sacred for Barty. It was his relationship with his childhood, and Evan wanted no part in causing ruination to that. Evan found out that Russian could be polarising. It could sound crass and rude, and it could sound soft and gentle at the same time. “Now, Evan, I’ve seen you dance better than that.”

“I’m a better singer than dancer, Bat.” Barty blinked a couple of times, almost like he was batting his eyelashes.

“So open your throat and sing, magpie.” Evan grinned.

“I’ve heard that one in the confines of our bedroom before,”

“I didn’t hear you complaining, шлюха,”

“I know that word, Bat, and I know that’s what half of our school called you.” Barty shrugs. Everyone and their mother knew that Barty was the slut of the school. He got around, and he enjoyed the attention he got. Evan never had a problem with his past, because none of the pricks in school were going to bed with him everyday at obscene hours of the morning, drunk and exhausted.

“I’m going to smoke, do you want one?” Evan looked at him incredulously, as if that was a question that needed to be asked. “Alright, alright, don’t look at me like that. I may just have to skip the pot and move to the end of the night that both of us are definitely looking forward to.”

“Subtlety was always your strong suit.” Evan tucks a couple strands of Barty’s hair behind his ear, who smiled slowly.

“I really fucking love you, you know that?” Their voices are low in the room full of blaring lyrics in another language.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

***

Two joints in, Barty had danced his energy out, the glitter on his eyelids almost fading and sweat starting to bead on his forehead. Evan watched him, occasionally throwing a couple of bills and whistling at the man. Barty got Evan to sing, showing him vague phonetic translations of the lyrics he couldn’t understand. He was laughing as Evan struggled with the words, but it was full of admiration and mirth.

It was well past three in the morning, and the most disciplined of runners would be waking up to get on with their day soon. They had turned off their music, because their heads had already started hurting from the noise. Maybe their neighbours had a point.

Evan was sitting in the corner of one of their sofas, a cigarette between his lips. Barty was finally starting to come down from his high, boa clutched in both his hands. The man half-twirled, dropping himself onto the sofa right next to Evan, his head dropping onto his shoulder.

“Tonight was fun,” Barty had a soft, dazed smile on his face.

“Yeah, it was. Shame we have to get to work tomorrow.”

“Don’t even remind me,” He reaches for the cigarette, smoking it himself. They sit in silence, only the slow buzz of the thermostat filling the space between them.

“Я не думаю, что смогу жить без тебя.” Evan had a pulling feeling at the back of his mind that this meant something important to Barty; a confession, if you would.

“Tell me what that means, Bat.”

“I don’t think I could live without you. Year after year after year, you were the only constant I had. I’m so grateful for that. I’m so grateful for you, Evan.” Barty’s voice cracks slightly, and Evan turns to see the man crying. “Everyday I hope I don’t fuck this up with you, like I did all those years ago. I knew you liked me, but I wasn’t ready to accept my own feelings. Maybe I was scared to lose our friendship if it all went south.”

“But it hasn’t gone south, has it? You and me, here, right now. This is everything I could ever ask for. All I could dream of since I was fourteen. Barty, you couldn’t fuck this up even if you tried as hard as you could. I would love you regardless and I’ll be there to pick up every fucking piece, even if it hurts to.”

“Nothing I ever write will satiate my love for you, and I’m scared of that. The sheer magnitude of it is frightening.”

“Just knowing you love me is more than enough.”

“I think,” he pauses, seemingly trying to find anything to say. “I think we should get married, любимый.” Evan’s hand flies up to his mouth, trying to conceal his severely shocked expression.

“Yes. Yes, one hundred times, yes.” And so, sitting in the slow come-up of the sun, with a cigarette burning to its filter, they had gone and become the closest they’d ever been.

#любимый: darling #Это скучно.: it’s boring #Я люблю тебя: I love you #Роза: rose #солнышко: sun/ sunshine #Никакого самоконтроля говорю вам.” : no self control I tell you #шлюха: whore/slut #can you tell I wrote the last part in the dead of night #this was intended to be a codependency type of oneshot but we progressed to this #I feel like this is my Frankenstein #this is powered by katya lel and laufey #anyways leave feedback please and thank you #evan x barty #barty x evan #rosekiller #dead gay wizards #the marauders #slytherin skittles

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nevvaraven · 9 months

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thinking about barty/sirius and kind of fic 'we don't talk about that summer' type of fic 🤭

Y’know that scene in gossip girl where they’re all trying to comfort Serena and prove they all have faults and Nate’s like ‘I cheated on Blair with her best friend’, Blair’s like ‘I slept with both of them and lied about it’, Serena’s like ‘I killed a dude’ and then Chucks just there like’ I’m Chuck Bass’ :)

yeah. Well. that’s what I see Barty as.

If this summer hook up were to ever happen, Sirius would come out with a myriad of excuses as to why he did it and that he was lonely and not thinking clearly and in a destructive mood and it didn’t mean anything to him and that he regrets it so deeply and he’s so ashamed and Barty’s excuse would simply be,

“I’m Barty Crouch Jr.” :)

Enough said.

#I’m in a gg mood if you can’t tell but this is still him #he is who he is and it’s not great but it’s there #insert that euphoria scene with cal jacobs like ‘I am who I am’#I love how shameful it is from Sirius’ perspective and how for Barty it’s just a regular Tuesday #Sirius x Barty #I’m not calling them that other thing you can just shoot me instead #chris tag

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depressedtheatrekiddo · 1 year

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Hey loves!

This summer I would like to start writing a marauders fanfic (I will try), not just the marauders like I want to explore in the Valkyries (the girls and also the loves of my life<3) and the Slytherin Skittles.

I don't have like a big concept, I just have some ideas writed down and I pray to put them all in the same fanfic. I think it will be a muggle AU tho.

So, here's the part where I need ur help my loves. I started writing down all my headcanons and searching some, but they're some characters that I can't figure out like I don't know a lot about them and I want to do it right.

So I give you here a list of things that will help me<3

- Your headcanons

- Fanfics that u think portray them ✨✨

- Fanart

- Your cast of the characters

- Posts of Tumblr that u think will help me

- Othersss

So, I really need help about:

- Mary

- Peter

- Marlene

- Dorcas

- Barty

- Evan

- Xeno

But every little thing about whoever will be appreciated<3

Thanks for staying:D

Alsoalso u want to hear more about the project??? Ships?? My headcanons? Let me know sweetheart<3

Have a gayday:)

*u don't understand how much I need help BAJAJAJA I'm like in crisis idk where to search or what u love more to see😭😭

** English is not my first language so I will try to write this fanfic as a challenge for myself but also bc I want more people to enjoy it<3

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birlwrites · 2 years

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part of the reason that i have a kill your darlings document is so that it's easier for me to reconcile myself with deleting stuff from the actual story, but a much bigger reason is that what i often have to delete is stuff that's incredibly funny and will not EVER fit into the story, and i like rereading it

someday i'll post a compilation of the kill your darlings document's greatest hits

#it includes a lot of stuff like regulus saying the fuck word and being melodramatic #specifically a shade of melodramatic more in line with barty's usual than regulus's #i just think it's so funny when he's like I Am The Center Of The Universe #but it also includes: megan stirring up shit! some truly ACERBIC one-liners from barty about his father!#and. of course. evan punching amycus carrow in the face #can you tell i really love that idea and am sad that it doesn't actually make any sense #but there's also a scene where regulus is like: i just ran into remus lupin. he is A Friend Of Sirius.#this is the WORST thing that has ever happened to me. how shall i ever recover #i've been at school for ten minutes and i'm already having the worst year of my life #barty is like dude chill it could have been worse. could have been potter.#i went through a lot of iterations of how to start this fic #so that was one potential beginning #just smash cut to regulus sitting in a thestral-drawn carriage mourning his life #because he almost walked into remus lupin #dark lord wip #the tRUE unhinged takes are in this document not in tyrant

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nixnight1 · 5 months

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Regulus high with Barty at the Potter's

Sirius: Can I get in here? I need the- Oh my god!!

Regulus using Sirius' clothes and makeup: It's like looking on a mirror!!

Sirius: No it isn’t, Regulus >:(

Regulus: Who's Regulus?

Barty: I already can't tell who is who

Sirius: Take that stuff off

Regulus: Moony! Get in here and settle this!

Sirius: Don't call my boyfriend "Moony"

Remus: What? OH woah-hey Hey, travel size Pads! Awww

Sirius: Moonyyyy, you're encouraging him

James: I need the bathroom... Oh wow this is confusing

Sirius: No, it's not!

Regulus: You're my family and I love you all, but I'm cooler than all of you!

Sirius: I don't say that

James: Well that's all you say

Remus and Barty: Yeah

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ellecdc · 2 months

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hello love! I just, like, devoured all your writings today and idk if your requests are open, but I really like seer!reader and I was wondering if I could request one with poly!marauders where reader is a slytherin and she has a vision of befriending them or being in a relationship with them?

I’d imagined she thinks it’s a silly vision at first but the more she sees the boys (as she’s friends with Regulus so is bound to run into them with him), the visions occur more and more until she finally has an official interaction with them and officially meets them.

Idk if that’s too complicated/confusing, if so, you don’t have to write it obviously 😅.

I love Seer reader!!! thanks for your request lovie <3

please note: my requests are currently closed as I finish exams and work through the requests that I currently have.

poly!marauders x Seer Slytherin fem!reader who Sees a relationship with them

“Tell me again why I have to sit at the Gryffindor table for lunch?” You protested as Regulus all but dragged you to the Great Hall and Barty skipped merrily-on ahead.

“Because I have to sit at the Gryffindor table for lunch.” He answered gruffly, strengthening his hold on your arm as you faltered in your steps.

“I don’t know, babes; have you ever considered just killing him? You wouldn’t have to reconnect with your estranged brother if he was dead.” Barty offered nonchalantly.

“For the last time, Barty, I am not killing my brother.”

“A decision we’re all suffering for, apparently.” You muttered petulantly as you entered the Great Hall; chatter and the sounds of cutlery and tableware permeating your senses.

“Don’t worry, Treasure. The faster we eat the faster we can get away.” Barty offered in consolation.

“I am not doing the heimlich on you again, Barty.” You groaned as you followed Regulus towards the wrong side of the Great Hall.

“Come on, they’re not that bad.” Regulus tried.

You and Barty both stopped to give him unimpressed glares.

“Lupin’s not that bad.” He corrected.

“Yeah, and then he ruins that by the company he keeps.” You grumble as you plopped yourself down unceremoniously at the Red and Gold table across from your three lunch dates for the day.

Listen, you were all for being a good friend, a supportive friend; you would die for Regulus Black.

You’re not sure that support extended to willingly eating lunch with Gryffindor’s.

But Regulus was determined to mend his relationship with his brother before Sirius graduated, Barty went just about anywhere Regulus went, and apparently you were single-handedly responsible for Regulus’ general sanity when it came to his brother and Barty.

“Hello Reggie!” Sirius called quickly.

“Don’t call me that.”

“What am I supposed to call you?” His brother bit back slightly less brightly.

“I call him sugar tits but I don’t think that’s universal.” Barty offered as he started loading up his plate.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Junior.” James offered cautiously.

“I bet it is, Potter.”

Sirius sighed as if he’d been dealing with the likes of toddlers all morning and not 37 seconds of Barty Crouch Junior. “The polite thing to say would be ‘it’s nice to see you too, James’.”

Barty froze with his fork half way to his mouth as he furrowed his brows at Sirius. “No it wouldn’t; it’s not polite to lie, Black.”

“I brought another friend you can try to converse with.” Regulus spat hastily.

“Pretend I’m not here; that’s what I’m doing.” You sighed as you resigned yourself to your fate.

“Well, this is off to a good start.” Remus said with a smirk as he flipped a page in his book.

You did suppose Lupin was the least…abrasive of him and his boyfriends. You’d had a chance to get to know him last year during prefect rounds; and while you didn’t appreciate how much he let his fellow Marauders get away with, he was relatively nice. In fact, if he had been in any house other than Gryffindor, you may have given him a chance.

His boyfriend’s, though?

You’d rather take your chances with the Giant Squid than spend your lunch hour with them.

Were they attractive? Sure. You may be contemptuous, but you weren’t blind.

But they always seemed to be on; there was never a moment of silence with those two nearby, and you often found yourself bracing for impact whenever they were around.

“Looking as smashing as ever, L/N.” James said as he shot you a wink.

Case in point.

“If I threw a stick, you’d leave right?” You sneered and turned towards your sandwich.

“Nice!” Barty cheered at the same time as Remus muttered “easy kitten; play nice.”

You started to feel the familiar sensation of your consciousness being pulled elsewhere. It felt as though you were being submerged under cold water, and the neurons firing in your brain were being gently lifted and ushered towards a new reality.

“What’s wrong dollface?” Sirius asked you earnestly.

You sucked in a shaky breath as you tried to hide the trembling in your hands. “I just don’t feel very good.” You whispered, not trusting your voice to get through a sentence without sobbing.

“Oh, my poor girl. Come here sweets.” He repositioned himself from laying on his stomach to sitting cross legged and opening his arms in invitation.

You quickly accepted his offer and curled up in his lap as he wrapped protective arms around you and began to rock you back and forth.

“You’re okay, dolly. You’re just fine.” He murmured with his lips pressed to your hair line. “D’ya wanna stay here with me and the boys tonight?”

You let out a pathetically embarrassing keening sound as you nodded quickly.

“Okay baby; consider it done.”

You sucked in a horrified breath as your consciousness returned and you were once again assaulted by the noises of the Great Hall.

Regulus quickly caught the glass of pumpkin juice you’d just nearly toppled and was holding your wrist tightly in his hand.

You thanked the deities for his seeker reflexes and that he seemed to already know what had happened; this was a relatively routine practice between the two of you this far along in your friendship.

“You’re okay.” He offered without even sparing you a glance as he took a napkin with his free hand to clean up what little you’d spilled.

He kept your wrist in his grip; tracking your pulse as he waited for your heart rate to slow down.

“Was it a good one!?” Barty asked excitedly, alerting you to the fact that it wasn’t just you and Regulus sitting here.

You looked up horrified to see Remus, James, and Sirius all looking at you with various levels of concerns.

“Was what a good one?” Sirius asked bemusedly.

Barty scoffed derisively. “She’s a Seer, Black. Fuck, you’re thick.”

“Barty.” Regulus scolded as he turned to offer you his full attention.

“Are you really?” James asked at the same time as Regulus asked “what did you See?”

“I have to go.” You muttered breathlessly as you grabbed your things and headed towards the exit.

“No fair! Why does she get to leave and I don’t!?” You heard Barty whine as you pushed through the doors to the courtyard.

You were going insane, surely. This was just a bout of madness. You needed psychological help, like one of those muggle mind healers. You could not seriously be having Sights of you dating the Marauders.

“Hey L/N!”

“Fucking hells!” You shrieked as you spun to see Remus and James approaching you, the latter having been the one to call your name.

James still had his ever present smile on his face whilst Remus approached you with slightly more caution.

“Not happy to see us?” Remus asked with a soft smirk across his face.

“I…well,”

Apparently your bumbling was particularly telling to your current mental state, if their furrowed brows and nervous glances to each other were anything to go by.

“No funny quip for us today? You’re not going to tell me that I look like something you could draw with your left hand?” James taunted.

“Go fuck yourself, Potter.” You said with half the amount of derision you’d intended.

“Why? You wanna watch him?” Remus asked.

Okay, everything you ever said about Remus being not as bad as his boyfriends?

Lies.

“For Salazar’s sake, L/N; you sure know how to pick ‘em, huh?” Avery sneered from behind you.

“Speak when you’re spoken to, fuck face.” You barked back.

Avery only scoffed in response.

“Hanging out with Baby Black and his crazy pet that follows him around wasn’t enough; you had to sully yourself with the likes of Gryffindor’s?” Mulciber continued for him.

“You know, I’d be mad too if I looked like someone who has fallen for every MLM scam known to mankind.” James spat; his face taking on a severity you’d never seen from the notoriously sunny-dispositioned boy.

You wondered what else you hadn’t seen from him.

You made a rather hasty and embarrassing retreat after that gave you some…inappropriate thoughts.

You’d been plagued with more Sights since then, having been avoiding them after more images of them fussing and fawning over you (and - perhaps more horrifyingly - you over them), and then out-and-out hiding from them after a particularly… steamy Sight you had.

“You cannot hide in the Slytherin common room forever, Treasure.” Barty sighed as he plopped down beside you on the couch and rested his head on your shoulder.

“Why not?”

“Because Regulus gave them the password to the common room.”

“He what!?” You shrieked as the door opened and in spilled three Gryffindors and one Slytherin.

“There you are, angel!” James cheered as he quickly made his way towards you.

Already with the pet names!?

“Did you really think you could hide from us, dollface?” Sirius winked as he and James took the settee across from you (causing a few younger year Slytherin’s to quickly vacate the area).

“Regulus, how could you?” You seethed at your now ex-friend.

“I’m tired of Barty bailing on me to hide out here with you. Also, I’m not a house elf and will no longer be bringing you your meals.”

You pouted at him before a surprised yelp left your lips as you were lifted up from your seat.

Remus took your place on the sofa and placed you in the space between his thighs.

“Lupin! What are you doing!?”

“Making your dreams come true, gorgeous.” Sirius answered for you.

“They’re not dreams, you absolute mumpsimus. They’re visions of the future.” Barty sneered.

“Even better then.” James continued as he now pulled a scowling Sirius into his side. “We’re starting our future together.”

“You told them!?” You asked Regulus disbelievingly.

“Well you weren’t going to.”

“That was the point!”

“Easy there, dove.” Remus whispered into your ear, causing a shiver to rack through you as your body traitorously melted further into Remus’ embrace.

The only way out of this was clearly going to be the death of you (via Remus’ smoothness, James’ loveliness, and Sirius’ boldness), their murders (at your hands), or stupidly drunk in love.

You weren’t sure which option was worse.

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dovrt · 28 days

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Ik we're all sad and gay and love angsty fics. BUT imagine an au where all the Slytherin skittles live and they all come back to Hogwarts in Harry's fourth year for various reasons EXCEPT they don't know the others are alive and also polyjuiced.

JUST IMAGINE THE CHAOS

Barty and Evan accidentally end up in the same room and Evan's trying to act normal. He's cosplaying some generic subject's teacher and actually tries to be a good teacher so he doesn't blow his cover. MEANWHILE MAD EYE MOODY OVER HERE IS LIKE YOOO I TURNED MY STUDENT INTO A FERRET DO YOU WANNA GET DRUNK WITH ME??

Pandora doesn't even try to act like anyone but herself. The students just think Sibyl Trelawney had a psychotic break or something. But this new Sibyl is so much better they don't even complain.

Regulus sends the Astronomy teacher some anonymous money so she takes a spontaneous trip and he takes her place. He does meticulous research on her, talks to all her family and not until he's absolutely sure that no one can tell he's not actually her, he goes to Hogwarts to look after Harry.

Dorcas straight up kidnaps Snape and puts him in a cupboard. Whenever people hear his cries for help she gives them homework and deducts points from Gryffindor, even if they're teachers.

Dorcas is the last to stay hidden, no one knows it's her pretending to be Snape until her potion wears off and she's like What the fuck, guys? You're all idiots

#marauders #regulus black #marauders era #dead gay wizards #the marauders #hogwarts #starchaser #harry potter #slytherin skittles #dorcas meadowes #pandora #evan rosier #barty crouch jr

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wolvesandshine · 4 months

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Sirius had never really liked Barty. If he could he wouldn’t be here right now. But well, Barty was one of the few people who was close to Regulus, and in this case the only one who could help. Desperate times call for desperate measure and such.

Barty looks up from his work, and upon seeing Sirius he smirks. “Trying to see the big bad Slytherin in their natural habitat?”

Sirius rolls his eyes, not raising to the bait. “I need help.”

Barty simply raises an eyebrow. “And I would help you why?”

“How did you start dating Reggie?”

Barty stared at him for a moment, processing the words before he laughs. “I always knew you were mad but I didn’t realise you were into the whole Black family incest too.”

Sirius barely restrains himself from strangling the boy in front of him. “It’s not for me. It’s for -“ Sirius trails off unwilling to out his best friend.

Barty simply rolls his eyes. “It’s okay you can say Potters name.” At Sirius’s shocked expression Barty looks up and sighs. “You’re as bad as Reg. Congrats on being the second last person in the whole school to know that they’re in love with each other and idiots.”

Sirius splutters indignantly. “Excuse me for hoping that it would be a passing infatuation.”

Barty gives him a look and yeah, okay, fair. They were talking about James I already planned our wedding the moment I saw you Potter and Regulus I’d kill someone just to see you smile Black.

“Well why haven’t any of you done anything about it?”

“We tried. Clearly, it was less than successful.”

“Can’t you just tell James what you did to get with Reggie?”

Barty laughs derisively. “I did nothing. He was the one who walked up to me and asked if I wanted to fuck.”

Barty laughs at Sirius’s disgusted expression. “You asked Black.”

“I don’t even know why I came here.”

Barty shrugs. “Beats me. At the rate it’s going I’ll probably die before they get together.”

Sirius thinks back on the way James and Regulus have been dancing around each other for months and - Yeah, someone needed to pull their heads out of their asses. He swears he and Remus were nowhere near this bad.

It says something about the way his life is going that he’s agreeing with Crouch.

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sommerregenjuniluft · 1 month

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

no thoughts, just line cook! barty

A miracle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rush hour comes and goes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Grab two for me?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry, no can do, Rosie baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#RAHR HE’S SO DISGUSTING I NEED EVAN TO SQUISH HIM UP AND PRESS HIM TO THE HOT GRILL LIKE ONE OF THE MEAT PATTIES!!!!!#rosekiller microfic #rosekiller #rosekiller fic #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #line cook barty agenda #<- will make more of this hopefully #they’ve been plaguing my mind for a WHILE i’m happy i finally wrote smth about them #evan rosier x barty crouch jr #barty crouch jr x evan rosier #lune’s tiny fic

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