OHHHHWHHSHHW WHAT DO YPUBMEAM WE ARE SYNCED UP JABSJAHAKAHAI⁉️⁉️⁉️ IVE ALREADY SEEN A COUPLE W JEGULUS AND ITS OUGGHHSHS DOOMED !!! DOOMED I SAY !!!
all i can say,,, as a compensation,,,, men who yearn,,, are men who earn 😍
-🐠anon
anon ur brain. MEN WHO YEARN ARE MEN WHO EARN. and the ill fated jegulus makes my soul ACHE.
so yes take ur compensation with both hands and raise you yearning barty.
BECAUSE ITS 100% HIS TOP SKILL, BRO WAS BUILT TO YEARN.
yearning obsessed!barty and grumpy!reader who never gives his antics the time of day. quite literally doesn’t give him an ounce of attention—you’re rather disgruntled every time he forces himself into your space. because all you want is some peace and quiet but no.
barty crouch jr has to come barrelling into great hall, all grins and loud chattering and chaos—planting himself next to you as if you hadn’t made it abundantly clear you wished to be left alone.
but to your misfortune, barty was nothing if not relentless—another day, another token. this one was wrapped delicately, decorated with a bow and your initials. he pushed it into your space with a shining grin that made you want to wince away—just too bright.
he slung an arm over your shoulder, leaning into you whispering into your ears as he greeted you—your name leaving his lips like it was just his to say. and when you grimaced at the proximity, eyes darting to where his arm laid on you—far too casual, too comfortable—and then to his face.
gods, was he close.
so close you could feel his breath fanning over your face, could smell the fresh air that had whipped his hair into its mussed state mixing with his own scent. he wasn’t even shy about the way his watched you—eyes flickering from yours to your lips, that held a mild scowl. his own lips stretching into something more wolfish as he watched you avert your gaze. irises shaking—almost panicked.
your eyes rolled as you shrugged of his arm—yet he still stayed stuck to your side, almost magnetised. his warmth seeping through your robes.
plucking the toast from your hand and taking a large bite—simultaneously forcing the package into your still opened grasp as you gaped at him. barty continued to chew unceremoniously brows raising as motioned you to open it.
he smiled to himself when you sighed, grumbling about your toast, yet your fingers were working open the ribbon. the parchment floated lightly onto the table, revealing a book—your favourite book.
how did he know?
your brows furrowed as you examined the copy, you’d never seen one like this before—eyes flickering back to him in skeptic confusion. he just grinned at you, arm inching its way around you again. settling into the pocket of your robe.
he used his other hand to take his wand—pressing it to the surface of the cover. and it shifted, morphed, sparkled as the title floated around, an admittedly beautiful illustration surrounding it in movement.
and there was an undeniably warm sense of pride blooming in barry’s chest at the way your eyes glimmered—lips parting in awe. and he could have sworn he saw the corners of your lips twitch upwards. he was still taking in your reaction, watching as your fingers traced the edge when he murmured so quietly you almost didn’t hear it.
“drew it myself.”
that got your attention—eyes shamelessly flitting over to him. and you were met with a shockingly soft expression, almost shy.
you say wordlessly for a few more moments, eyes still stuck on barty—before you swiftly stood—his hand falling out of your pocket while his eyes tracked your movements.
maybe you’d misjudge him, maybe.
just as quickly as you stood—bag slung over your shoulder, your warmth quickly dissipating from barty’s side. you pressed a gentle peck to the tops of he cheekbones—picking up the book and tucking beneath your arm. your small thank you soft and honeyed in his ears.
and then you were gone.
robes filling with air as you walked swiftly out of the dining hall.
and barty all but melted into the seat—slumping dramatically, tracing the surface of his cheek where you lips had been—heat travelling helplessly to the surface as a cheesy grin split across his lips.
all he could do was watch your figure disappear down the corridor—cheek pressed against the hard wood of the table, a lovestruck expression plastered to his face.
it took him over a week to figure out how to animate his drawing with magic (thank you dorcas).
and gods was it worth it.
