rosekiller
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In his sixth year and irrevocably broken, Barty Crouch Jr is hopelessly in love with Evan Rosier. He would die if it meant he could have Evan’s hands on him forever. He might as well, honestly, because every single second that passes without Evan's touch is like hell. He knows he can't have him, though, not really. Not in the way he wants him.
Evan somehow harbours intrinsic knowledge of when and how Barty needs to be touched, and is only too happy to comfort him when he needs it. In fact, Evan would do anything for Barty. He'd give up his entire life just to be by his side. But is that any good if Barty won't let him?
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"What the hell are you doing here?" Evan says, looking Barty up and down to take in his changed appearance.
"I heard you were in town,” Barty says, barely daring to breathe. “I wanted to see for myself."
"And you decided the best way to re-introduce yourself was by pointing a gun at my fucking chest?”
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Since Evan fled from the island three years ago, Barty has tried to move on. He thought he had everything under control until he hears who he’s tasked to assassinate to become a Death Eater: Evan Rosier. Riddle wants him to kill the only person he’s ever loved. -
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to get one's just deserts: to receive the appropriate reward or (more usually) punishment for one's actions.
The door to the car opened with a whine, followed by the coughing of a pathetic old man.
Barty walked to him, the pavement as light beneath his trainers as a cloud. He was skipping. He was laughing. He was crying. He was God and the Devil and Man. He was cutting the umbilical cord as he was born.
Abraxas Malfoy was crawling, and that was so fitting. On the side of his face where the airbag had impacted, there were small cuts like a dusting of weeping freckles. The skin looked raw and burned. The eye socket was swelling and the whites of the eye were spiderwebbed red.
Barty had never seen anything so beautiful.
Malfoy didn’t cry or beg for his life. He was spitting profanities, assuring Barty of his power and how Barty would suffer for this. He didn’t apologise. He didn’t repent. He didn’t revert to a quivering mass of tears and call out for his own mother.
He didn’t believe.
So, Barty stood above him, and he aimed the gun.
The Order is dead. The rich must pay. The city will burn. Evan and Barty fall in love.
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There's gotta be somebody for me like that by Moonleen (closetedbookworm) for Anngie_black, Redwine_1
Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
01 Apr 2024
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—No, Crouch. No decides de quién te enamoras —le respondió Regulus irritado—. Si alguna vez lo hubieras experimentado, lo sabrías.
—¡Pff! Por favor. El amor está sobrevalorado.
—No podrías reconocer el amor aunque te viera directo a los ojos—lo retó.
—¿Quieres apostar?
o
University AU en donde Regulus reta a Barty a encontrar al amor de su vida antes de San Valentín. Barty es el último en enterarse de que todo este tiempo ha estado buscando algo que ya tenía en Evan Rosier.
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Barty knows it’s a bad idea every time he unblocks Evan's number and calls him at some late hour asking where he is and if he's busy. He knows it. He hears that little voice in the back of his head telling him not to; he hears the voices of his friends echoing in his head telling him not to.
It goes on and on, in circles, in circles. It’s Evan’s hands digging into Barty’s waist, trying to pull him closer to his body when that isn’t physically possible with their clothes on. It’s Barty unblocking Evan’s phone number every single time, calling him up. It’s Barty moaning against Evan’s mouth. It’s Evan picking up the phone every time. They just go round and round.
He doesn’t know why they can’t just– stop. It sounds so easy. Just stop. Don’t call Evan. Don’t get in the cab. Don’t kiss him, don’t kiss him, don’t kiss him. And then Barty does. And then he does. And he does, and he does, and he does.
This is the last time, he tells himself.
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or, Barty Crouch Jr. and Evan Rosier broke up a year ago. But they can't seem to stop sleeping together.