It's my right to be hellish ( I still get jealous)
James Potter x Evan Rosier
Sypnosis : Evan Rosier never meant to fall into the mess of tangled loyalties and forbidden desire, but one collision with James Potter sparks a rivalry laced with attraction that refuses to fade. Between his hidden crush on Barty Crouch Jr., Regulus Black’s manipulative provocations, and James’s possessive fire, Evan is dragged into a storm where every laugh, every smirk, and every kiss carries the weight of betrayal.
Evan Rosier had been in love with Barty Crouch Jr. for as long as he could remember. It wasn’t a passing fancy, not the kind of crush that flickered and died after a term. No, his love for Barty was carved into him like runes etched into stone — permanent, undeniable, and impossible to erase. Barty had been his best friend since their first year, his partner in crime, the one person who could make him laugh even when the world felt suffocating.
It had always been the three of them: Evan, Barty, and Regulus. A trio that moved through Hogwarts like shadows, inseparable, untouchable. They were whispered about in corridors, feared for their sharp tongues and sharper pranks, admired for their brilliance. And beneath it all, Evan carried his secret — the way his chest tightened whenever Barty’s hand brushed his, the way his heart stuttered when Barty’s grin was aimed at him. Regulus knew, of course. Regulus always knew. He’d teased Evan for it, smirked knowingly when Evan’s gaze lingered too long, when his laugh came too easily at Barty’s sharp jokes.
But Regulus was also the same boy who had broken up with James Potter just a week ago, bored of Gryffindor’s golden boy and his endless dramatics. Evan had watched the fallout with detached amusement, secretly pleased to see James left in the dust. He hadn’t expected Regulus to move on so quickly. He hadn’t expected this.
Because now, standing in the doorway of his own dorm room, Evan’s sanctuary, he saw Regulus with his hands tangled in Barty’s hair, lips pressed against Barty’s mouth. In his room. On his bed.
The sight sliced through him like glass. His heart lurched, his stomach twisted, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe. Regulus’s smirk was triumphant, Barty’s laugh muffled against his lips, and Evan’s world tilted violently off its axis.
He wanted to scream. He wanted to tear the walls down, to demand why, how, when. He wanted to drag Barty away, to shake Regulus until that smug grin vanished. But all that came was silence — the hollow ache of betrayal, the suffocating weight of being the outsider in his own story.
Memories flooded him: late-night talks with Barty, whispered secrets in the library, the way Regulus had nudged him whenever Evan’s gaze lingered too long. They had been a trio, a perfect balance. And now, Regulus had shattered it, stolen the one thing Evan had never dared to claim.
Regulus’s eyes flicked up, catching Evan in the doorway. That smirk widened, cruel and knowing. He knew. He had always known. And now he was rubbing salt into the wound, flaunting the betrayal in Evan’s face.
Barty pulled back, lips swollen, hair mussed, and laughed — oblivious, radiant, devastating. Evan’s chest constricted. He had dreamed of that laugh, of being the reason for it. And now it was Regulus who held it, who owned it.
Evan’s hands clenched at his sides. He wanted to run, to escape the suffocating room, but his feet were rooted to the floor. He wanted to fight, to claw back what was his, but the words stuck in his throat. He was drowning in silence, in heartbreak, in rage.
The Gryffindors had won their match against Hufflepuff, and the castle was buzzing with celebration. Their common room was overflowing with noise — music charmed to play from enchanted gramophones, butterbeer spilling over tables, laughter echoing against the stone walls.
Evan Rosier didn’t belong there. He knew it, felt it in the way Gryffindors glanced at him with suspicion, their smiles too sharp, their whispers too loud. But he had decided to tag along anyway. Because Barty was going, and Regulus was going, and the three of them had always been a trio.
Even after seeing them kiss.
Still, Barty and Regulus weren’t official. Just flings, just stolen moments. Evan told himself that over and over as he followed them into the Gryffindor common room, the noise swallowing him whole.
Barty was radiant, his grin wide as he clapped Sirius Black on the shoulder, already recounting some play from the match. Regulus leaned against the wall, cool and composed, his eyes flicking toward Evan with a small, reassuring smile. That was the thing about Regulus — even when he broke hearts, even when he tangled himself in chaos, he never let their friendship fracture.
Evan moved through the crowd, his chest tight, his mind spiraling. He could still see them in his room, lips pressed together, laughter muffled. He could still feel the sting of betrayal, even if it wasn’t meant to be cruel.
Sunlight spilled through the tall windows, slicing across the room in golden beams. It landed directly on Evan’s face, dragging him out of sleep with a groggy groan. His head throbbed, his mouth was dry, and his stomach churned with the unmistakable weight of too much firewhisky.
He remembered the chaos of last night — the Gryffindor victory party, the endless drinks pressed into his hand, the laughter that blurred into shouting, the music that pulsed until his bones vibrated. He remembered getting lost in it, letting the noise drown out the ache in his chest, the image of Regulus and Barty tangled together. He had wanted to forget, and for a few hours, he had.
Now, though, the hangover was merciless.
Evan tried to sit up, but something tugged him back down. His brow furrowed, confusion cutting through the haze. He looked down — and froze.
A hand. Draped across his lower waist.
“What—” His voice cracked, hoarse. “Shit.”
His gaze snapped sideways, and the world tilted violently.
James Potter was sleeping soundly beside him.
His dark hair was a mess, his glasses abandoned on the nightstand, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. He looked peaceful, almost boyish, utterly unaware of the storm raging in Evan’s head.
And only then did it occur to Evan that this was not his room.
The walls were wrong — Gryffindor red instead of Slytherin green. The banners, the clutter, the faint smell of butterbeer and smoke. He was in the Gryffindor dormitory. In James Potter’s bed.
Evan’s pulse spiked, panic clawing at his throat. How had this happened? He remembered the drinks, the laughter, the blur of faces. He remembered stumbling through corridors, someone steadying him, a voice coaxing him along. But the details were fractured, broken shards that refused to fit together.
And now here he was, tangled in James Potter’s sheets, James’s hand resting possessively at his waist.
Evan’s panic was a living thing, clawing up his throat, making his pulse hammer so hard he thought it might wake James before his voice even did. He shoved at the sheets, trying to untangle himself, but James’s hand tightened instinctively at his waist — casual, possessive, like it belonged there.
“Potter,” Evan hissed, his voice cracking. “What the hell—”
James stirred, lashes fluttering before his hazel eyes blinked open. For a moment he looked disoriented, then his gaze landed on Evan — and the smirk spread across his face like wildfire.
“Well, well,” James drawled, voice still rough with sleep but smug as ever. “Rosier in my bed. Never thought I’d see the day.”
Evan’s stomach flipped violently. “This isn’t—this can’t—” He scrambled back, nearly falling off the mattress, his head pounding from the hangover. “What did you do?”
James tilted his head, hazel eyes gleaming with amusement. “What we did, you mean.” He sat up, sheets slipping down to reveal his bare chest, utterly unbothered. “Don’t look so horrified. You weren’t complaining last night.”
Evan’s breath caught, his chest constricting. “You’re lying.”
James leaned closer, smirk widening. “Am I? You were the one pulling me down, whispering my name like it was a curse. Don’t pretend you don’t remember.”
Evan’s face burned, his stomach twisting violently. He wanted to deny it, to scream, to run — but fragments of memory flickered in his mind: the taste of firewhisky, the press of lips, the heat of skin against skin. His panic sharpened into rage.
“You’re disgusting,” Evan spat, though his voice trembled.
James only laughed, low and infuriating. “Funny. You didn’t think so when you had your hands all over me.” He leaned back, utterly at ease, like he owned the moment. “Relax, Rosier. No one else knows. Yet.”
The implication hit Evan like a curse. His secret — his heartbreak over Barty, his tangled feelings, his vulnerability — all of it could unravel if James decided to open his mouth. And James Potter, Gryffindor’s golden boy, looked like he was enjoying every second of Evan’s panic.
Evan’s fists clenched, nails digging into his palms. He wanted to hit him, to wipe that smug grin off his face. But beneath the fury was something worse — the echo of last night, the way James’s laugh had made his chest ache, the way his touch had burned.
“Bloody hell,” Evan muttered, voice shaking as he grabbed his discarded clothes from the floor. His fingers fumbled with the buttons, too frantic to care if they were misaligned. He needed out. Out of this room, out of James’s orbit, out of the suffocating weight of what they’d done.
Behind him, James stretched lazily, utterly unbothered. “Running already?” His voice was smug, teasing, like he knew exactly how much Evan was unraveling. “You don’t even want breakfast first?”
“Stay out of my way, Potter,” Evan snapped, voice low and dangerous. He turned on his heel, storming toward the door before James could see the tremor in his hands.
But James’s voice followed him, smug and soft, curling around him like smoke. “You’ll be back, Rosier. You know you will.”
Evan froze for half a second, rage and panic colliding in his chest, before he slammed the door behind him.
Sirius was sprawled across the armchair, legs dangling over one side, a butterbeer bottle balanced precariously in his hand. He looked at James with that trademark grin — sharp, amused, and just a little cruel.
“So,” Sirius drawled, voice dripping with mischief, “you fucked your ex’s best friend?”
James didn’t even flinch. He leaned back against the couch, arms folded behind his head, smugness radiating off him like sunlight. “Ex’s best friend, rival, whatever you want to call him. Rosier was practically begging for it.”
Sirius barked out a laugh, nearly spilling his drink. “Merlin’s beard, Prongs. You’ve outdone yourself. First Regulus, now Evan? What’s next, you gonna make a hobby out of Slytherins?”
James smirked, eyes glinting. “Don’t act like you’re not impressed.”
“Oh, I’m impressed,” Sirius said, shaking his head. “Impressed you’ve got the guts to poke that hornet’s nest. Regulus is going to lose his mind when he finds out. And Evan—” He whistled low. “That boy’s got enough rage bottled up to hex you into next week.”
James shrugged, unbothered. “Let him try. He looked good in my bed, didn’t he?”
Sirius groaned, covering his face with his hand. “You’re insufferable. Absolutely insufferable. And you wonder why Lily dumped you.”
James chuckled, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “Maybe. But tell me you wouldn’t pay good money to see Rosier’s face when he realized where he woke up.”
Sirius grinned, wicked and knowing. “Oh, I’d pay. I’d pay double to see what happens when Regulus finds out.”
The two of them dissolved into laughter, the sound echoing through the common room — loud, reckless, and dangerous.
Evan sat with Barty and Regulus in their usual corner of the Slytherin common room, the fire crackling low as the three of them picked apart the endless web of pureblood traditions. Barty was animated, gesturing with his hands as he ranted about the hypocrisy of their families — how they preached loyalty and legacy but were the first to betray their own when it suited them. Evan listened, half-distracted, while Regulus leaned back in his chair, sharp-eyed and smirking.
“Tradition is just another leash,” Barty muttered, flipping his quill between his fingers. “They dress it up in honor and duty, but it’s all about control.”
Regulus gave a soft laugh, elegant and cruel. “And yet, we all wear it. Even Potter.” His smirk widened, voice dripping with disdain. “Golden boy of Gryffindor, pretending he’s above it all, but he’s just as bound by his family name as the rest of us. James Potter — heir to a line of dramatics and arrogance.”
Evan stiffened, pulse spiking at the name. He forced his expression neutral, but Regulus’s gaze was sharp, knowing.
“You should’ve seen him when we were together,” Regulus continued, tone deliberately cutting. “Always so desperate to prove he wasn’t just another pureblood puppet. Always so loud, so insufferably Gryffindor. Merlin, he thought he was different.” He scoffed, leaning forward. “But in the end, he was just like the rest. Easy to get bored of.”
Barty snorted, amused. “You’re ruthless, Reg.”
Regulus’s smirk curled. “I’m honest. And honestly? Potter’s nothing special. Just another boy who thinks he can rewrite centuries of tradition with a smile and a broomstick.”
Evan’s jaw clenched, his chest tight. He wanted to snap, to defend, to say something — but the words stuck in his throat. Regulus’s voice was a knife, twisting deeper with every syllable, and Evan could only sit there, silent, while Barty laughed and Regulus basked in his cruelty.
The air outside was sharp and cool, biting against Evan’s skin as he slipped through the courtyard archway. He hadn’t meant to leave the common room, but Pandora’s words still echoed in his head — their parents were sick. The kind of sick that made her voice tremble, the kind that carried weight heavier than any pureblood tradition.
He rounded a corner too fast — and slammed straight into someone.
“Oi—” James’s voice broke out, startled but quick to recover, his hands shooting out to steady Evan before he could stumble. “Watch where you’re going, Rosier.”
Evan froze, pulse spiking. Of all people. He shoved James’s hands away, muttering, “Get off.”
James tilted his head, hazel eyes gleaming even in the low light. “Sneaking out after curfew? Didn’t peg you for the reckless type.” His grin was infuriating, casual, like he hadn’t just caught Evan unraveling.
Evan’s jaw clenched. “Mind your own business, Potter.”
James stepped closer, voice dropping. “You look rattled. What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’re out here sulking about me again.”
Evan’s stomach twisted, rage flaring. “Not everything’s about you.”
James smirked, leaning back against the wall, arms folded. “Could’ve fooled me. You practically ran into me like you were looking for me.”
James smirked, leaning back against the wall, arms folded. “Could’ve fooled me. You practically ran into me like you were looking for me.”
Evan’s chest constricted, grief and fury colliding. He wanted to snap, to hex him, to erase that grin. But before he could, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor.
James’s grip tightened on his wrist. “This way,” he hissed, tugging Evan sharply.
Evan stumbled after him, confused, until James pressed against a section of wall and — impossibly — it shifted. A narrow passage yawned open, dark and hidden.
Evan’s eyes widened. “What the hell—”
James smirked, tugging him inside before the lantern light could sweep past. The wall sealed behind them, muffling Filch’s muttering.
The corridor was cramped, stone walls pressing close, the air cool and stale. Evan’s pulse hammered, half from the near‑miss, half from the shock. “You knew about this?” His voice was sharp, incredulous.
James’s grin gleamed in the dim light. “Of course. Gryffindors don’t survive curfew without a few tricks.” He leaned casually against the wall, utterly at ease. “What’s the matter, Rosier? Surprised I’ve got secrets too?”
Evan’s jaw tightened, his voice low. “Surprised you’re not bragging about it to the whole bloody school.”
James chuckled, stepping closer, his tone softer but no less dangerous. “Not everything’s for show. Some things are better kept… private.” His eyes flicked toward Evan, deliberate, loaded.
“You know,” Evan said smoothly, voice dripping with mockery, “for Gryffindor’s golden boy, you’ve got a pretty tragic track record.”
James arched a brow, grin already forming. “Oh? Go on then, Rosier. Amuse me.”
Evan tilted his head, confidence sparking. “First Lily dumps you — Merlin, everyone remembers that spectacle. Then Regulus gets bored and tosses you aside. Honestly, Potter, you’re practically collecting rejections like trophies.”
James barked out a laugh, leaning closer, eyes gleaming. “You’ve been keeping tabs on me, huh? Touching. But let’s get the facts straight — Lily didn’t dump me, she just couldn’t handle the charm at first. And Regulus? Please. He was a hobby, not a heartbreak.”
Evan smirked wider, enjoying the shift. “Funny, that’s not how Regulus tells it. He said you were insufferable, desperate to prove you weren’t just another pureblood puppet. And Lily? She made it clear she wanted nothing to do with you. Twice rejected, Potter. That’s a record.”
James chuckled, unbothered, his grin sharper now. “You’re bold tonight, Rosier. I like it. But here’s the thing — Lily came back, didn’t she? And Regulus? He’s still bitter enough to talk about me. Sounds like I left an impression.”
The wall sealed behind them, muffling Filch’s muttering, and for a moment the corridor was nothing but shadows and the sound of their breathing. Evan had pushed back, sharp and confident, teasing James about Lily and Regulus until James laughed instead of faltered. They’d sparred, traded barbs, neither backing down — and then, finally, they broke apart.
James gave a last grin, lazy and dangerous. “Try not to miss me too much, Rosier.” He slipped off down the passage like he owned it, footsteps echoing until they faded.
Evan stood there, pulse steady now, smirk lingering on his lips. He’d held his ground. He’d made James laugh, not at him but with him. And that was the problem.
As he retraced his way back toward the Slytherin common room, the realization crept in, unwelcome but undeniable: he might actually be catching feelings. For James Potter. Gryffindor’s golden boy. Regulus’s ex. The boy he was supposed to hate.
The thought twisted in his chest, equal parts dread and thrill. He clenched his fists, muttering under his breath, “Merlin help me.”
But the smirk wouldn’t leave his face.
Evan hadn’t meant to linger near the Gryffindor common room, but his feet carried him there anyway. He was restless, still buzzing from the secret corridor encounter, still replaying James’s grin in his head. He slowed when he heard voices — familiar ones.
James. Sirius. Remus.
He pressed himself against the wall, listening.
“…ran into Rosier after curfew,” James was saying, his tone light, teasing. “Nearly knocked me flat. I saved his arse from Filch, dragged him through one of the secret corridors. He looked like he’d never seen Hogwarts before.”
Sirius laughed, loud and careless. “Merlin, that’s brilliant. Did you tell him he’s obsessed with you yet?”
James chuckled. “Didn’t have to. He was rattled, but then he got bold. I like it. He’s finally learning how to spar properly.”
Evan’s chest tightened, heat rushing to his face. Bold? Sparring? Was James mocking him? Or worse — bragging about him to his friends?
Remus’s voice was quieter, thoughtful. “You’re playing with fire, James. Rosier’s not like the others. If Regulus or Barty catch wind of this…”
Evan’s stomach twisted violently. He didn’t hear the laughter that followed, didn’t catch the joking tone. All he heard was James talking about him, Sirius egging it on, Remus warning about Regulus.
It sounded like James was boasting. Like he’d turned their secret into entertainment.
Evan’s fists clenched, nails digging into his palms. He backed away from the wall, heart pounding, jealousy and humiliation colliding. He’d thought — for a moment — that maybe there was something real in their banter. But overhearing this? It felt like betrayal.
The courtyard was alive with chatter, Gryffindors and Slytherins split into their usual clusters. Sirius was loud, Remus leaned back with that calm watchfulness, Dorcas Meadowes sat beside Pandora, who was murmuring something to Barty.
Evan came in last, sliding into place beside his twin and Barty, trying to look composed. But his eyes betrayed him immediately — they found the Marauders.
And there it was. James and Regulus.
Laughing.
The sound carried across the courtyard, sharp and unguarded. James’s grin was wide, easy, the kind that lit up his whole face. Regulus’s smirk matched it, sly and cutting, the two of them leaning in as if sharing some private joke.
Evan’s chest constricted, jealousy twisting hot and ugly. He’d overheard James joking about him with Sirius and Remus, and now this — James laughing with Regulus, the boy who had tossed him aside, the boy Evan had seen tangled with Barty.
Barty nudged him, whispering, “You alright?” but Evan didn’t answer. His gaze was locked, burning.
James threw his head back, laughing at something Regulus said, and for a moment Evan couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t just jealousy — it was confusion, betrayal, the ache of feelings he hadn’t wanted to admit.
Pandora’s hand brushed his arm, grounding him, but Evan barely noticed. His mind was already spiraling: Was James mocking him again? Was Regulus feeding him stories? Were they laughing at him?
He didn’t want to sit there, didn’t want to stew. So, without a word, he tugged his shirt off and strode toward the lake. But this time, it wasn’t strange. Others were already in the water, laughter echoing across the courtyard. Evan dove in, the splash blending with theirs, ripples spreading wide.
Barty leaned back, smirk tugging at his lips. “Rosier, you’ve finally joined the fun. Took you long enough.”
Evan surfaced, slicking his hair back, smirk curling faintly. “Maybe I just needed it.”
Barty chuckled, shaking his head. “You? Voluntarily swimming? Merlin, I’ll mark the date. You’re usually too broody for this.”
Pandora sighed, muttering, “At least he’s not sulking in the corner.” Dorcas gave a small smile, watching Evan float with deliberate ease.
Across the courtyard, James’s gaze lingered. He didn’t call out, didn’t make a scene — just watched, grin tugging at his lips, hazel eyes gleaming with amusement. Regulus smirked beside him, saying something under his breath, but James’s attention stayed fixed longer than it should have.
The water was cool, biting against Evan’s skin, but it steadied him. He floated back, hair slicked, smirk faintly tugging at his lips. For once, he wasn’t brooding in the corner — he was part of the chaos.
Then came the splash.
Barty had stripped off his jacket and leapt in without hesitation, the water erupting around him. He surfaced with a sharp laugh, shaking his hair out, eyes gleaming. “Rosier, you think you can have all the fun without me?”
Barty swam closer, grin wicked. “Please. You sulking in the lake alone? That’s practically an invitation.” He flicked water at Evan, smirk daring him to retaliate.
Evan splashed back, sharp and deliberate, and for a moment the tension twisted into something lighter — banter, challenge, the kind of push-and-pull that always left him breathless. Barty’s laugh rang out, unguarded, and Evan felt the ache in his chest shift into something warmer, more dangerous.
On the shore, Pandora rolled her eyes, muttering to Dorcas, “Idiots.” But her smile betrayed her amusement.
James leaned back against the courtyard wall, arms folded, grin tugging at his lips as he watched Evan splash Barty. At first, it was amusement — Rosier finally loosening up, Barty dragging him into the chaos. But the longer he watched, the heavier it sat in his chest.
Evan’s laugh carried across the water, unguarded, brighter than James had ever heard it. Barty was close, too close, his grin wicked, his hand brushing against Evan’s shoulder as he shoved him under with a playful dunk. Evan surfaced, hair plastered to his forehead, smirk curling — and James’s jaw tightened.
Regulus noticed. Of course he did. His smirk was sharp, deliberate, voice pitched low so only James could hear. “Looks like Rosier’s found someone worth his sulking. Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”
James didn’t answer right away. His eyes stayed fixed on the lake, on Evan’s grin, on the way Barty’s laughter tangled with his. His chest constricted, heat rising, the kind that wasn’t just irritation. Finally, he muttered, “He’s reckless. Barty’s reckless. Rosier doesn’t know what he’s getting into.”
Regulus chuckled, leaning closer, tone dripping with mockery. “Funny. You didn’t care when it was me.”
James’s glare snapped to him, sharp and dangerous. “That was different.”
Regulus tilted his head, smirk widening. “Different, or just easier to ignore?”
James didn’t answer. His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms. Across the courtyard, Sirius was laughing, Remus was watching with quiet curiosity — but James’s gaze stayed locked on the lake. On Evan. On the way his smirk lingered, even when Barty shoved him under again.
It wasn’t just jealousy. It was possession, confusion, the ache of something he couldn’t name. And Regulus’s smirk beside him only twisted the knife deeper.
Evan floated back, hair slicked, grin tugging faintly at his lips. Barty swam closer, water dripping from his lashes, smirk curling wicked. “You look almost human when you laugh, Rosier,” he teased, voice low, carrying just enough to make Evan’s pulse skip.
Evan scoffed, splashing him deliberately. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m laughing at you, not with you.”
Barty lunged, closing the distance, his hand brushing Evan’s arm as he shoved him under. Evan surfaced with a sharp gasp, hair plastered to his forehead, smirk curling wider. “Merlin, you’re insufferable.”
“Maybe,” Barty said, grin dangerous, “but you’re still here.”
The words hung between them, heavier than the water rippling around them. Evan’s chest tightened, breath catching, the banter suddenly sharper, charged. He shoved Barty back, but not hard enough to break the moment — not hard enough to hide the way his pulse hammered.
The Astronomy Tower was quiet, the kind of stillness that wrapped around Evan like a cloak. The stone beneath his palms was cool, the night air crisp, carrying only the faint rustle of leaves far below. Above him, the sky stretched wide, stars pricking through the indigo, steady and unbothered.
For the first time all day, his chest didn’t ache. The laughter at the lake, the sharp edges of jealousy, the tangled mess of James and Barty and Regulus — it all felt distant now, softened by the silence. Here, alone, there was no smirk to hold, no banter to deflect, no eyes burning into him from across the courtyard. Just the stars, endless and indifferent.
He leaned against the ledge, exhaling slowly, letting the calm seep in. The tower had always been a place of reprieve, a place where the noise of the castle couldn’t reach. Tonight, it was more than that. Tonight, it was a reminder that the world was bigger than tangled feelings, bigger than betrayals and crushes and rivalries. The stars didn’t care who kissed whom, who laughed too loud, who stared too long. They just burned, steady and eternal.
Evan closed his eyes, letting the cool air bite at his skin, and for once, he didn’t feel restless. He didn’t feel jealous. He just felt… calm.
Then he heard it. Footsteps. Slow, deliberate, echoing against the stone floor.
He turned, and the figure emerged from the shadows. James. His posture was casual, hands shoved into his pockets, but his eyes — hazel, gleaming even in the dim light — were anything but casual. They were sharp, fixed on Evan, carrying something unspoken.
Evan straightened, jaw tightening instinctively. “Potter,” he muttered, voice low, steady. “What are you doing here?”
James shrugged, leaning against the opposite wall, gaze never leaving him. “Could ask you the same. Thought you’d be sulking in the dungeons, not stargazing.”
Evan scoffed, turning back toward the sky. “Not everything I do is sulking.”
James’s grin tugged faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He stepped closer, the air between them tightening. “You looked… different today. At the lake.” His tone was casual, but the weight behind it was anything but. “Laughing. With Barty.”
Evan’s chest constricted, but he forced a smirk. “Jealous, Potter?”
James’s jaw tightened, his fists curling at his sides. He stepped closer, the space between them shrinking, his voice rough. “Maybe I am.”
Evan’s breath caught, but he forced a scoff. “Pathetic.”
That was all it took. James’s hand shot out, gripping Evan’s collar, dragging him forward. The kiss was sudden, hot, furious — more a collision than anything tender. Evan stiffened, pulse spiking, but James didn’t let go. His grip was firm, his mouth demanding, hazel eyes burning even as they closed.
For a heartbeat, Evan resisted — then the fight melted into fire. His hands clenched against James’s chest, not pushing him away, not pulling him closer, just caught in the storm. The stars above blurred, the calm shattered, replaced by heat and chaos.
When James finally pulled back, his breath was ragged, his grin sharp, dangerous. “Still think I’m pathetic, Rosier?”
Evan’s chest heaved, smirk tugging faintly despite the chaos. “More than ever.”
But his pulse betrayed him. And James knew it.
The stars blinked overhead, indifferent, as the tower held their secret — jealousy turned to fire, rivalry turned to something neither of them could deny.
So this is for the charecter x charecter fan base, pls pls guys give me fanfic recommendations if you have fic which fall under this tropes , tags and ships
Rosekiller (Barty Crouch Jr x Evan rosier) - an enemies to lovers, hogwarts au, enemies to lovers , no voldamort. (It can be a enemies with benefits, academic rivals, quidditch rivals, soulmate au)
Jegulus soulmate au ( james potter x regulus black) - strictly regulus's pov , no war au, has to be enemies to lovers
Sunrose (james potter x evan rosier) - Evan's Pov, ikik this one is really hard to find. Has to enemies to lovers (It can be a enemies with benefits, academic rivals, quidditch rivals, soulmate au, or maybe accidental fling or kiss)
PLEASEEE PLEASEEE (also there has to be LODS OF YEARNING , GROVELING , ANGSTY AND A TAD BIT OF JEALOUSLY)
So as most of you know I'm Cora/Doe . I just wanted to say that I will deactivate on the 19 of June IST . The reason I'm deactivating is because of severe hate ( I literally have 5989 + hate asks in my INBOX ) and because even though i originally created a tumblr blog to read fics I've become obessed with getting more notes/followers etc because I feel insecure as all of my mutuals are growing so fast while i'm still stuck at 20+ notes a day and 189 followers . I'm really sorry to the people who actually care about me
I'm tagging some people that currently come to my mind - @mxlody-lit-hrrrrt-1128 (also thanks a ton for saving my work) @shinette @thecutestcherub @atetheluck @written-by-music @renlogs @that-one-bitch-sakura @sawafette @kii-kii @ariannagram @arievette @mxriitaesz @cuddlymaus @ecile @dazaisfavbitch @yeotozaki @xoxz-babyy2024 @timeangel @dollsyu @sznmanon @ryuwifes @williamssbabydoll @angelwings-fly @caravalxjurdan240 @letmeliveinelfhame @afararraaaa @sugarstayy @deer-miffy @stargazin-on-mars @haerinriny @dollycoree @fuyunel @roze-latte-zz @justlikejimin @sasgaycumfilledcondom + more
Wolfstar x reader soon? Its a need not a want at this point 🙏
Snickerdoddles
summary : You pull the tray from the oven, only to find your famous snickerdoodles burnt, and the disappointment hits hard. Sirius and Remus comfort you, with Lily and James joining in to help remake the cookies amidst laughter and flour‑covered chaos.
a/n : A special thanks @dabookwriterlover for requesting this!!
The Hufflepuff common room smelled faintly of cinnamon and sugar, the kind of warm scent that usually meant your famous snickerdoodles were about to make everyone’s evening. Sirius had been hyping them up all week, swearing they were “better than any feast Hogwarts has ever seen.” Remus, quieter but no less eager, had already set aside a book to enjoy them with tea.
James and Lily had tagged along too — James mostly to tease Sirius about his sweet tooth, Lily because she genuinely loved your baking and wanted to see you in your element.
You’d been humming as you worked, wand flicking to measure flour, butter softening by the fire. Everything felt perfect until the oven timer rang. You pulled the tray out, and your heart sank.
The cookies were blackened, edges charred, the cinnamon sugar crust bitter instead of sweet.
Sirius froze mid-step, eyes widening. “Oh.”
James whistled low. “That’s… bold.”
You bit your lip, throat tightening. All the excitement drained out of you in a rush. “I ruined them,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I ruined the one thing I’m actually good at.”
Remus was beside you instantly, steady hand on your shoulder. “Hey. Don’t say that.”
But tears were already spilling. You’d wanted this to be perfect — a cozy night with your friends, something warm and safe. Instead, you felt like you’d let them down.
Sirius gently took the tray from your hands before you could throw it away. “They’re not ruined. They’re… crunchy. A new genre of biscuit.” His grin was ridiculous, but his tone was soft, coaxing.
Lily stepped forward, brushing flour off your cheek. “Love, everyone burns a batch sometimes. It doesn’t erase all the times you’ve made magic in this kitchen.”
James leaned against the counter, trying to lighten the mood. “Besides, Sirius would eat them anyway. He’s eaten worse.”
“Oi!” Sirius protested, but his eyes stayed on you, worried.
You shook your head, voice trembling. “You were all looking forward to them. I ruined it.”
Remus pulled you into his chest, arms warm and grounding. “We were looking forward to you. The cookies were just a bonus.”
Sirius wrapped around the other side, squeezing you between them. “And now we get to make them together. Round two.”
The kitchen turned into chaos. Sirius insisted on cracking eggs with one hand and got shell everywhere. James tried to charm the flour bag open and ended up dusting the entire room. Lily laughed so hard she nearly dropped the sugar jar.
Remus, ever the careful one, measured ingredients properly, guiding your hands when they shook. “See? Perfect. You’ve got this.”
You sniffled, but the warmth of their laughter started to melt the embarrassment. Sirius flicked flour at you, and you retaliated with a spoonful of sugar. James joined in, and soon Lily was shrieking as Sirius chased her with a cinnamon stick like a wand.
By the time the second tray went into the oven, your cheeks hurt from smiling.
When the timer dinged again, you held your breath. Remus pulled the tray out — golden brown, soft, perfect. The smell was heavenly.
Sirius bit into one and groaned dramatically. “Merlin, marry me.”
James grabbed two at once. “Best thing I’ve ever tasted. Don’t tell my mum.”
Lily hugged you tight. “See? You did it. And we got to make a memory along the way.”
Later, the five of you piled into the common room. Sirius had nicked a projector charm from Muggle Studies, so the wall flickered with a film Lily had chosen — something cozy and romantic.
You curled against Remus, Sirius sprawled across both of you, crumbs everywhere. James and Lily sat tangled together on the rug, whispering jokes.
The burnt batch was forgotten, replaced with laughter, sweetness, and the kind of comfort only found in friends who refused to let you fall apart alone.
Sirius reached for another cookie, mouth full as he mumbled, “Best night ever.”
Remus kissed your temple. “Because of you.”
And for the first time all evening, you believed it.
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