rosekillermicrofic

[rosekillermicrofic]

Gender - June 25th - wc: 278 @rosekillermicrofic

No CWs, this is pure, domestic fluff <3

𑁍❁𑁍❁𑁍❁𑁍❁𑁍❁𑁍❁𑁍❁𑁍❁𑁍❁𑁍❁𑁍❁𑁍❁𑁍❁𑁍

Evan never imagined having kids. To be fair, with the way he acted in his teens he never thought he’d live long enough for kids to be an issue. But now here he was, thirty, braiding his foster daughter’s hair like Pandora taught him.

“Evie?” Maive began.

“Hm?” He hummed lost in plaiting.

“Why are you a boy?”

“Sorry?” Evan was glad she didn’t see his initial bewildered expression.

“Why are you a boy?” She repeated, looking back at him with inquisitive brown eyes.

“Uh, I guess I’m a boy because I feel like one.”

“Oh, okay.” Maive shrugged, deciding that was good enough and turning back around.

Evan hesitated before continuing her half-braid, “Do you feel like a boy?”

“Not really.” She replied.

And that was that. Covers were tucked and foreheads were kissed, but Evan lingered.

“Maive, if you ever feel something, you know you can tell Bee or I about it, right?”

She nodded, blankets up to her chin, “I know.”

“Good.” He flicked off the lights and shut the door.

Evan found his husband sitting on the kitchen counter nursing a glass of squash and soda.

“All settled?” Barty grinned, offering him a drink.

Evan took a sip, “I think I just taught her what gender is.”

Barty raised an eyebrow, setting the cup down beside him, “How’d that go?”

“Good,” He shrugged, “she’s a girl for now.”

“Look at you,” Barty chuckled, kissing the skin by his ear, “Having father-kiddo chats- you might pull ahead of me in papa points.”

Evan rolled his eyes, “We agreed papa points weren’t happening.”

“Oh, they’re happening. You’re just scared you’ll lose.”

“Whatever you say, Honeybee.”

[rosekillermicrofic]

gender - @rosekillermicrofic - word count: 176

“What does this mean?” Barty asked, waving his phone in Regulus’s face and giving him a confused look. “‘Interested in…?’ Like what type of person I want?”

Regulus grabbed the device, looking at the screen. “What’re you doing?”

“Joining the wonderful world of swiping left and right,” Barty replied, rolling his eyes. “I figured, if Pandora can find Lily on Tinder, no less, then I should give it a try, right? So for that question, I’m thinking, I’m looking for someone…odd. Like a little off. Someone blonde, with lots of tattoos and piercings. Blunt, but also a bit quiet. Oh. And tall. I want someone tall,” he said thoughtfully

“Erm,” Regulus stifled a laugh. “I think it’s asking about gender. Like… ‘Interested in men’ for example. But I don’t think you need this, Bee.”

“Why?” Barty asked, looking shocked.

“Because you’ve just described Evan…like, exactly,” Regulus replied, chuckling.

“Oh.”

Barty only stared at his own phone for about ten minutes before he stood and ran out of the room, yelling, “Gonna go snog Rosie!” behind him.

[rosekillermicrofic]

ally - @rosekillermicrofic - wc: 864

The first thing Evan notices is the smell.

Acrylic paint and something fruity—possibly watermelon—mix in the air like chaos and pride had a baby. The second thing is that the flat is way too quiet for what it smells like. No music, no TV, just the hum of summer heat coming through the cracked kitchen window.

Evan toes off his shoes and squints down the hallway.

“Barty?”

“In here!” comes the shout, echoing from their bedroom. There's a weird, wet-slapping noise like someone wrestling with a paintbrush and absolutely no effort to hide whatever disaster is going on.

Evan pushes the door open with the same energy one uses to check behind a horror movie shower curtain. And then he freezes.

Barty is standing in the middle of their room shirtless, arms lifted slightly away from his sides like he’s trying not to smudge anything. His entire chest has been transformed into a bisexual pride flag—pink, purple, and blue stripes smeared across his pale skin with suspiciously good blending. On one leg is the trans flag. His face has a rainbow like war paint under each eye, and one hand is currently halfway through painting the lesbian flag across his thigh.

They make eye contact.

Barty, wide-eyed and unapologetic, mid-paint-stroke.

Evan just blinks.

“…What the fuck is happening here?”

Barty doesn’t miss a beat. “What does it look like? I’m showing my support. I am an ally.”

Evan raises one hand to his mouth and rubs his bottom lip with his thumb, pouting ever so slightly like he’s trying to decide whether to laugh or walk right back out and pretend this didn’t happen. “Yeah, yeah, sure. But you’re also gay.”

Barty narrows his eyes. “Not just gay. I'm layered. Like a—like a queer onion.”

“A bisexual onion?”

“If you will,” Barty says, as he dips his brush into another blob of paint on a plate that Evan really hopes is not one of their good ones. “I contain multitudes.”

“You contain glitter on my sheets.”

“I’m doing this for the community,” Barty replies, solemnly, like he’s about to launch into a TED Talk. “Pride is about visibility. I am being very visible right now. You're welcome.”

Evan crosses the room slowly, avoiding paint tubes like landmines. He stops just in front of Barty and folds his arms. “You painted the lesbian flag on your leg.”

“I support lesbians.”

“You hit on a lesbian last week.”

“She was hot,” Barty shrugs. “I told her I respected her. I also told her 'Evan at home had better hands than she could ever dream of', so it’s fine. Balanced.”

Evan chokes on a laugh. “Is that what you said?”

“I did,” Barty says proudly. “She gave me her eyeliner brand as a peace offering. Look.”

He turns and reveals a black tube of something wedged between a rainbow pride boa and a half-full bottle of rosé on the dresser.

Evan lets out a long, drawn-out sigh. “You know, I came home thinking we might have dinner. Watch something. Be normal.”

“This is normal,” Barty says, placing a dramatic hand over his paint-slicked heart. “You date a man who has a very expressive artistic side and an unstable relationship with impulse control. You knew what this was.”

Evan tilts his head. “You have the trans flag on your leg.”

“I do.”

“Do you want to talk about that?”

Barty goes quiet for a second, the paintbrush hovering in mid-air.

“…Maybe later.”

Evan nods, the mood shifting a little in the way it always does when Barty lets him past the sarcasm and glitter.

Then Barty smirks. “Right now I want you to admit that I look fabulous.”

Evan steps forward again, lifting his hand to trace the edge of the pink stripe on Barty’s chest. The paint is still a bit tacky, and Evan tries not to think too hard about how good the colors look on him. How Barty’s always had a knack for making chaos look like art.

“You look like someone let a gay raccoon loose in a craft store.”

Barty grins, proud. “Thank you.”

“Wasn’t a compliment.”

“Yes, it was.”

“Alright, fine,” Evan says, stepping even closer, hands now resting on Barty’s waist, smearing a bit of purple onto his thumbs. “You look like a queer fever dream, and somehow I still want to kiss you.”

Barty raises an eyebrow. “Do it.”

“You’re covered in paint.”

“So?”

Evan leans in, pressing a kiss to the corner of Barty’s mouth. When he pulls back, there’s a smear of blue on his lips.

“Fuck,” he mutters, rubbing at it. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I am lucky. I’m dating a beautiful, mildly judgmental man who lets me paint myself like a pride parade float.”

Evan sighs again, but there’s a softness to it now. “So. Do we wash this off or…?”

Barty shrugs. “We could go out like this.”

“I am not letting you into a restaurant with the lesbian flag on your thigh and nothing else.”

“Coward.”

“Degenerate.”

“Gay.”

Evan rolls his eyes, leans in, and kisses him again.

This time, he doesn't even try to wipe the paint away.

[rosekillermicrofic]

“Identity” - June 24th - wc: 480 @rosekillermicrofic

CW: Alcohol abuse, self-loathing,

𑁍᪥𑁍᪥𑁍᪥𑁍᪥𑁍᪥𑁍᪥𑁍᪥𑁍᪥𑁍᪥𑁍᪥𑁍᪥𑁍᪥𑁍᪥𑁍

Barty never liked the taste of Firewhiskey. It was too cinnamon-heavy like drinking a melted fall candle mixed with rubbing alcohol. But if you ever saw him at a party, he’d have a cup of it in each hand because it got him drunk the fastest. Being drunk was Barty’s bliss because when the wobbly knees and fuzzy feeling set in, he could forget. That was always his goal after all, when he drank he drank to forget. He drank to forget his father, to forget his childhood, and most of all to forget himself. However, the problem with drunk-forgetting was that the process of hangover-remembering was soaked in vomit, piss, and self-loathing. There was not a time that Barty hated himself more than when he was bent up on the bathroom floor looking at his shaking hands and wondering how he got there. He knew it was killing him, the constant poison flushing in his system. But still, every Saturday night he had a blissfully blank memory and every Sunday morning he ended up back on that stone floor again. That was where Evan always found him.

Though Evan also drank, he never got black-out drunk like Barty did. He liked to be able to recall at least most of what he did the night before. Mostly he liked to know that Barty was safe. So though his face was tinted slightly green with nausea himself, he’d sit cross legged by the toilet, lifting Barty’s head from the floor and setting it gently on his lap.

“Why do you keep doing this?” Barty asked, the question was pointed in equal parts towards Evan as it was back at himself.

“Because I love you,” Evan’s cool hand pushed Barty’s sweat-sticky bangs off his forehead, “Thought that was kinda obvious.”

“You shouldn’t.” Barty’s face scrunched up in disgust, the bitterness of all his regrets clung to every taste bud on his tongue.

The process of forgetting and remembering was so intrinsically tied to his very identity. More times than not it seemed by trying to forget all that made him similar to his dad- his temper, his cruelty, and the easiness of his lies- he couldn’t remember all that made him himself- his loyalty, his passion, and his ability to make even the sourest motherfuckers genuinely laugh when he spoke.

“Just sleep, Bee. You’ll feel better in an hour.”

“Are you going to leave?” The words oozed with a timid vulnerability few knew Barty Crouch Jr. possessed.

“Not a chance,” Evan leaned his head back against the wall “So don’t bother throwing a fit about it.”

“But-“

“I said I’m staying, Bee. I’m staying.”

“Okay.” He swallowed thickly with a nod, this time it wasn’t vomit that burned the back of his throat, it was tears. They fell silently as he pressed his eyes closed and forced himself back into unconsciousness.

[rosekillermicrofic]

identity - @rosekillermicrofic - slightly NSFW - word count: 180

“Oi!” Barty yelped, throwing his hands in the air, shocked to see four wands trained on him as soon as he walked in the door of Pandora’s flat. “The fuck?”

“Better to be safe than sorry,” Regulus scowled, wand never wavering. “People are using Polyjuice now. Things are getting bad. We need you to prove it’s you.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to prove my identity with four wands pointed at my junk?” Barty grumbled, but didn’t move.

“You answer a question. A question only Barty would know,” Pandora explained calmly. She looked around. “Someone think of something.”

The room was silent for a moment as everyone thought.

“Have to piss, here,” Barty mumbled, still standing with his arms raised high.

“Oh!” Evan gasped suddenly, face breaking into a suggestive grin. “What’d you say the first time we kissed?”

Barty grimaced but sighed in defeat. “I said if you didn’t fuck me in the next five seconds, I’d cut your prick off,” he shrugged, turning a bit pink.

Instantly, Evan lowered his wand. “That’s Barty!” he announced, smirking triumphantly. 

[rosekillermicrofic]

6/22 - respect - word count: 634 - @rosekillermicrofic

“What would you have done?”

It’s hard to hear Evan, for Barty, right then, over the rush of the blood thudding in his ears, the commotion of the battle they’ve left behind. 

“What?”

“If there’d not been a war. What would you have done?” Evan looks up at him, pale and eyes shining with pain, but so, so earnest. Pleading, like he wants an answer. A glimpse into the life they never got and never will. 

Don’t think like that, Barty urges himself. But then again, when has he ever listened to anyone?

“I would’ve loved you,” Barty says, and it’s sincere, and simple. He kisses the tip of Evan’s nose, then both of his cheeks. He continues peppering kisses on Evan’s face as he gives weak giggles.

“We could’ve had a house together,” Evan says, tears beading up in his eyes, and the first one to break through is like a burst dam. Barty’s heart twists watching Evan like this, now. He could- he could kill the person who did this. He would. He would do it. “Maybe- maybe with Reggie, and Dor, and Panda.” Each of those names leave Barty feeling like he wants to throw up. 

He misses them. With his whole body, like someone has carved out a piece of his heart and squeezed it, bruised and bloody. And he feels that hole inside him aching. He tries to imagine a different universe where- where Evan is right. 

A universe where they’ve built a life away from the father Barty never respected, and away from the responsibilities of the House of Rosier. Away from the Dark Lord and serving him, but safer and together nonetheless.

He can’t. He can’t see any further than what he sees around him now, and that’s the final nail in the coffin. The realization that here, now, is the only thing that’s real. 

“Evan,” he sobs out, clutching at him, cradling Evan to him like it’s their last day to be together. And it is. It is and Barty will never be the same after. He didn’t even think there was going to be an after. After all, it had always been them, together, against the world. Not just Barty, nor just Evan. And Barty had thought it would always be like that. “Rosie. Don’t leave me. Don’t- don’t do that.”

Evan lifts up a hand to his face and brushes away the tears. Barty leans into his touch, melts into it - it is the only comfort Barty has ever known, in his miserable little life. “Don’t cry, Barty. Don’t cry, please.”

“I’m sorry,” Barty weeps. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re perfect,” Evan says with conviction, even as tears trail down his cheeks. “I love you, Bee, you’re beautiful. You’re perfect.” He says it like it’s a fact of life, like Barty is the only thing that there is in the world worth praising. 

He’d loved that tone, once. The one Evan’s voice took on when it was just the two of them, when they were whispering secrets to each other that were snatched by the air between them. Now, Evan’s whispered words seem like an ultimatum. 

“Stay,” Barty begs, pleads, even though he knows it’s out of their control. Evan pulls Barty down and he goes willingly, his arms around Evan growing tighter, to keep him with Barty. 

And there was another kiss like this, wasn’t there? In form, but not in circumstance? One when Barty thought he’d never again be unhappy, never let that smile out of his face, as long as he had Evan’s beautiful hazel eyes in his sight. As long as he could see that reassuring shade of brown with flecks of green that danced in the light. 

Barty couldn’t see those eyes anymore.

He never could bring himself to smile again.

[rosekillermicrofic]

ally - @rosekillermicrofic - NSFW - word count: 152

“Hey Reg? You know the book Pandora got you when you first came out? About…gay shit?” Barty asked in a would-be casual voice, fidgeting with his hands.

“Gay sh–you mean Backdoor Basics?” Regulus replied, only flushing minimally, given the situation. 

“Yes,” Barty said firmly, shifting from foot to foot. “That one. Can I…er…borrow it?”

Regulus stared. “You know it’s not smut, right? It’s like…a how-to thing…”

“Yeah, I know,” the other man nodded. “I just…want to learn.”

“Learn what? How to–” Regulus started asking incredulously.

“I’m just a really good ally, alright? I want to know what it is you…you go through!” Barty whined, wincing.

But then Regulus remembered how Barty and Evan had been looking at each other lately. The long, drawn-out stares. The lingering touches….

“It’s on the bookshelf by my bed,” he sighed, stifling a smirk. “Just…keep it, alright?”

Looking both embarrassed and grateful, Barty nodded and stalked away.

[rosekillermicrofic]

straight - @rosekillermicrofic - wc: 819 - sorry in advance

The highway was empty, as usual. Long stretches of cracked asphalt stretched out like old veins across the skin of the earth, flickering yellow under the occasional streetlight. The silence hummed. The hum comforted him.

Barty’s fingers drummed on the steering wheel. One hand on the gearshift. The other gripping the wheel lazily, thumb tracing the wear in the leather. It was one of those drives. The kind where he didn't think about where he was going—he just let the engine purr and the road guide him.

“You ever think about how dumb clouds are?” Evan's voice broke through the silence, lilting and ridiculous. “Like, it’s just water. Floating. But people still look at them and go, ‘That one looks like a cat with a hat.’”

Barty glanced sideways. Evan was curled up in the passenger seat, socked feet on the dashboard like he always insisted, hoodie sleeves pulled over his fingers, hair a chaotic mess from the wind through the cracked window.

“Why do you always talk about the sky when we’re driving?” Barty muttered, a grin pulling at his lips.

“Because you don’t,” Evan said with mock drama, flinging his arm out toward the windshield. “Somebody has to romanticize this hellscape.”

Barty snorted, eyes lingering a second too long on him. The hollow glow of the dashboard lights caught the edge of Evan’s cheekbone. His profile was etched into Barty’s mind like a scar.

“B!” Evan shouted, laughing as he grabbed the wheel. “Keep your eyes on the road, you lunatic!”

Barty jumped, hands tightening, and the car swerved slightly before he straightened it out. The tires hissed against the asphalt, settling again.

“Pfft. Not like there’s anybody out here,” Barty muttered, heart racing despite his smirk.

Evan rolled his eyes. “Still don’t wanna die because you were too busy admiring my divine beauty.”

Barty hummed. “Wouldn’t be the worst way to go.”

Evan laughed—light and too real. It shook Barty for a second.

They didn’t talk much after that. Evan put on one of his weird playlists, something with melancholic synths and lyrics that sounded like poetry whispered into static. Barty didn’t ask what the song was. He never did. He just drove.

He knew where he was going.

It always started as aimless.

It never ended that way.

The car rolled to a stop on a gravel path, headlights sweeping across rows of crooked tombstones and iron gates. The graveyard looked older than it was, like it had been waiting centuries for this exact night.

Evan’s voice broke the quiet again, soft now. “You picked here? Bit dramatic, even for you.”

Barty turned off the ignition, and for a moment, the silence was overwhelming.

“I didn’t pick it.” He paused. “You’re the one buried here.”

When Barty looked to the passenger seat again, Evan was gone.

No sound. No goodbye. Just the quiet folding in on itself, like Evan had never been there at all.

Barty sat for a long time. Hands still on the steering wheel. Breathing carefully. Like if he moved too fast, the moment would shatter.

He got out, gravel crunching under his boots. The wind had teeth this far out in the countryside. It chewed at his coat, licked at the edges of his sleeves.

He didn’t need a light. He knew the way by heart.

Third row. Fifth stone.

Evan Rosier. Beloved friend, lost too soon. 1980–1998

The words never felt like enough.

Barty crouched in front of it, elbows resting on his knees. His fingers hovered near the stone but didn’t touch it.

“They still don’t know what to put for your epitaph,” Barty said, voice low. “Your mum wanted something poetic. Your dad just wanted the dates. Said there wasn’t much else to say.”

He blinked slowly.

“I still hear you sometimes,” he confessed. “Especially when I’m driving. You say the same dumb things. Talk about clouds. Complain about how cold it is. Tease me for my shit music taste.”

A breath left him, hollow and ragged.

“And for a while, I let myself believe you’re really there. Just riding along. Feet on the dash. Mouth running like always.”

His hand finally settled on the stone. Cold, even through the leather of his glove.

“But then I get here,” Barty whispered. “And you vanish. You always vanish.”

The wind moved through the trees. Something about the night folded in on itself—like time bending at the edges.

Barty stood up, brushing his hands on his jeans.

“I’ll see you again next week,” he murmured. “Same time. Same road.”

He walked back to the car, the door creaking open like it hadn’t been touched in years. When he sat down, the seat beside him was empty.

Still warm, though.

Like Evan had only just gotten out.

The engine rumbled back to life, and Barty drove.

Not home.

But just far enough to forget the silence again.

[rosekillermicrofic]

NSFW- Minors DNI!

Prompt 21 - Straight

@rosekillermicrofic June 21, word count 296

Previous part First part Wolfstar series part 1

CW - NSFW - Sex scene

“Shhh, my love, I’ll take care of you, don’t worry,” Evan murmured as he kissed him again. Barty loved how gentle Evan could be. Don't get him wrong, he loved it when Evan was a bit rough with him, when he got all bossy and demanding. 

Evan took him time to prep Barty. Barty’s head was writhing on the pillow by the end of it. Evan had magic fingers, and he knew how to use them. Evan lined himself up and ever so gently began to push against the taut muscle of Barty’s entrance. 

Evan was toe-curlingly slow. Barty longed for more. Harder, deeper. But Evan had other plans. Instead of going straight for the goal, he was taking the scenic route. 

Barty felt his orgasm building ever so slowly; unless Evan picked up the pace, it would take forever for him to come. As if Evan had read his mind, he suddenly began thrusting faster. 

Barty was gasping now, reaching, reaching, reaching for that wonderful warmth building inside of him. Evan moved slightly, changing the angle, and he hit the spot. Barty cried out in pure joy as he came, hard. Evan came straight after him, Barty’s canal still contracting as he came down. 

“I love you,” he sighed, feeling completely wrung out. His body felt like jelly, and his eyelids became too heavy to keep open. 

“Sleep, darling, I’ll clean you up,” Evan told him in a gentle voice, pulling out and moving off the bed. Barty didn’t even last until Evan came back. Today had been a long day, even if he hadn’t been allowed to help. He was actually glad Mary had banned him from helping, as there was no way he would have been able to enjoy this if he had. 

[rosekillermicrofic]

straight - @rosekillermicrofic - cw: homophobic barty crouch senior - word count: 261

“Mister Crouch,” Evan said stiffly, holding out a hand to the man he desperately wanted to murder with a rusty spoon. “Pleasure.”

The crowd of people moved around them, none the wiser, even as Evan felt Barty continue to stand stiff and furious at his side. It had been years, Evan knew, since Barty had seen his father. And now, here they were, at a Ministry charity event of all things, forced to interact.

“Ah. The man who tainted my son. You’re…more polite than I thought you’d be,” the older man replied with a sneer, ignoring Evan’s hand. “He was straight before he met you, you know? Before you corrupted him.”

Evan felt Barty shift, as if poised to attack, but he moved his arm, wrapping it around his husband’s waist, and gave the older man a leering grin. “Well. Whatever you believe, it’s been an absolute pleasure corrupting him. Over and over and over. Night after night after night…and I think he’s enjoyed it, too. Immensely.” He spoke each word slow, savoring the taste, almost mesmerized by the way Bartemius Crouch Senior seemed to burst into flame at his statements.

And Barty, from next to him, turned, giving him a part-astounded, part-amazed grin, before he turned back to his father. “Hell yes I have,” he agreed, laughing.

And yes, perhaps Evan shouldn’t have pulled Barty into such an expressive kiss in public, but the shorter man responded in kind. And by the time the both moved away from each other, laughing, pupils blown, Crouch Senior had disappeared with a huff.

[rosekillermicrofic]

Straight, 21.06. - @rosekillermicrofic - word count: 488

“What about Regulus?” asked Barty, a smile tugging on his lips as he pointed in the direction of their friend across the common room. Lately, speculating about other people’s sexuality had become a new “hobby” of sorts for Barty, and Evan had grown tired of it.

At first, he held on to the possibility that these conversations might be leading somewhere, that Barty was working up to something real. But weeks had passed, and Barty still kept dancing around the words.

“What about him?” Evan replied without looking up, eyes fixed on his book.

“Well, do you think he’s… You know…” Barty struggled for words, but Evan wasn’t going to help him this time. If he wanted to talk about it, he’s going to have to face the words.

“He’s what?”

“You know what I mean,” Barty practically whined.

“Then just come out and say it.”

“Er… um, not-straight?” said Barty, and Evan scoffed.

“Not-straight? Really?” Evan shot his best friend an incredulous look. “The word’s not going to bite you.”

“It might.” Barty’s voice was barely a whisper, almost like the words slipped out of his mouth all on their own. The surprise on Evan’s face must’ve been evident because Barty hastily scrambled to get up from the sofa where he was lounging just moments ago.

Without thinking, Evan reached out and grabbed his wrist. “Wait.” He needed him to stay; he needed him to understand.

“It’s okay,” he said gently. He hoped the words were enough. He hoped Barty heard what he meant.

“Is it?” Barty’s body was tense like he might still run, but hadn’t pulled away. Evan took that as a sign. Carefully, he set his book aside and turned to face him fully. Barty’s eyes desperately searched Evan's face for answers, and Evan's throat tightened with emotion. There wouldn’t be another chance like this. He took a deep breath.

“Barty, I love you,” he said. He could feel the other tense where their hands touched. But Evan wasn’t letting go.

“You’ve said those words before,” Barty said.

“I have,” he admitted. “And I meant them even then. I’ve loved you for a very long time. You’ve always been the most important person to me.” Slowly, carefully, Evan loosened his grip and let his hand trail down to Barty’s, fingers sliding into his palm. He gave it a gentle squeeze. Evan didn’t want to let him go, but he was willing to, if that’s what Barty wanted. Mustering all the courage in his heart, he said, “I will always love you. Because you’re you. I couldn’t love anyone the way I love you.”

They sat like that, staring into each other’s eyes, for what felt like an eternity, before Barty finally spoke. His voice was soft, but sure, and Evan knew what he said was nothing but the truth.

“I- I can’t say those words right now,” he said. “But one day I will.”

[rosekillermicrofic]

gay - @rosekillermicrofic - wc: 945

The Astronomy Tower was the only place that didn’t make Barty’s head feel like it might snap off from too much noise. He hated the library; it smelled like parchment and rules. The dungeons were too damp and too full of boys who tried too hard. And the common room? Ugh. An explosion of posturing and perfume.

So the tower became his thinking place. Quiet. High. Removed.

Tonight, he wasn’t alone.

Regulus sat cross-legged on the stone floor, his dark robe spread around him like a ripple in a puddle. He was flipping through a dog-eared book of obscure Latin hexes that he insisted weren’t dangerous “unless you're stupid." His voice was cool, his presence unbothered—but Barty had known him too long to fall for it.

Regulus wasn’t the type to just “be” anywhere without a reason. Which meant he probably already knew Barty was up here. Or maybe he’d felt it—that Barty needed to talk.

Because Barty did need to talk.

“I think I might be broken,” Barty said after what felt like twenty years of silence.

Regulus’s fingers paused on a page.

He looked up. “That’s dramatic. Even for you.”

Barty huffed, flopping onto his back, head hitting the stone with a dull thud. He winced. “I mean it. I’m trying to figure out what I am. Like… romantically. Or sexually. Or whatever.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, but didn’t speak. He never asked questions when he knew the answers were coming anyway. Barty hated how patient he was about things like this.

“I don’t—” Barty exhaled sharply. “I don’t think I care about most people. Like, they’re fine. I can tell when someone’s good-looking. I can even, I dunno, imagine stuff with some people. But it’s like—nothing feels real unless it’s Evan.”

Regulus tilted his head, expression unreadable. “So… you’re in love with him.”

“Maybe,” Barty said quickly, too quickly. “But maybe not. That’s the thing. I don’t know if I want to shag him or just… sit near him for the rest of my life and listen to him complain about his tea being too bitter.”

Regulus snorted.

“I’m serious!” Barty’s hands flailed as he spoke. “Sometimes I look at him and I’m like, God, you’re so annoying, you’re obsessed with your skincare routine and you talk in your sleep, but then he touches my shoulder when he’s laughing and I feel like my stomach’s trying to escape through my ribcage. What the hell is that? Is that gay?”

“It’s Evan,” Regulus said simply, closing his book with a soft snap. “That’s what it is.”

Barty looked at him.

Regulus leaned back on his hands. “You don’t need a word for it. People are messy. Feelings even more so. You’re allowed to not know.”

“But everyone else does know.” Barty sounded a little like a child pouting. “Mulciber’s been snogging Rabastan since second year. Avery got a girlfriend and never shut up about it for three months. Even you had that weird thing with Wilkes.”

Regulus gave him a sharp look. “I wouldn’t call it a thing. He tried to kiss me. I hexed him.”

“Still counts.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Regulus rolled his eyes. “Look, what are you really worried about? That you might be gay? That you might not be?”

Barty’s hands dropped to his sides, fingers curling around the fabric of his jumper. “I think I’m scared that Evan’ll figure out what he is before I do.”

That stopped Regulus cold.

“I don’t want him to move on while I’m still standing in place. I don’t want to be the guy who gets left behind because I was too busy thinking instead of doing.”

Regulus nodded slowly. His voice was soft now. “He cares about you, you know.”

“I know.”

“He talks about you all the time. It’s annoying.”

Barty let out a breath that was half a laugh and half a sob. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

“Then don’t.” Regulus shrugged. “You don’t have to have it all figured out to tell him he matters to you. He’ll get it. He’s not like the rest of them.”

Barty stared at the stars. He wasn’t a sentimental person, not really. He liked chaos, and power, and being just a bit too much. But when it came to Evan… he didn’t want to be too much. He wanted to be enough.

“I think,” he said carefully, “that I’d still choose him, even if he wasn’t a boy.”

Regulus blinked. “That’s… saying something.”

“I don’t mean that in a weird way,” Barty added, flustered. “I just mean… if Evan were a flower, or a chair, or a cloud, I think I’d still be obsessed with him.”

Regulus snorted again. “Please never say that to him directly. He’d never let you live it down.”

“I won’t.” Barty’s voice dropped to a murmur. “But it’s true.”

The wind rustled his hair, tugged at his sleeves.

After a long pause, Regulus stood, brushing imaginary dust from his robes. “You’ll tell him when you’re ready.”

“Do you think he already knows?”

Regulus looked down at him, his gaze more gentle than Barty expected. “Probably. But I think he’s waiting for you to know.”

Barty nodded, lips pressed thin.

Regulus turned toward the stairs but paused just before he descended. “You're not broken, Barty. You're just… in progress.”

Barty laid there long after Regulus left.

He wasn’t ready to tell Evan yet. But he would be. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. Maybe after the next time Evan grumbled about their potions homework while curling into his side like he belonged there.

He didn’t know what he was.

But he knew who Evan was.

[rosekillermicrofic]

Prompt 20 - Gay

@rosekillermicrofic June 20, word count 259

Previous part First part Wolfstar series part 1

CW - Suicidal thoughts, but not described at all

“I love you too, more than I can say.” He told Barty, meaning every word. He straddled Barty carefully and leant over to capture his lips. The kiss deepened, and Evan didn’t think he could get much happier than right now, at that moment. 

Evan hadn’t realised he was gay. Pandora had been the one to tell him. He’d struggled with it. What with his parents’ expectations and the prejudices they’d filled his head with. He’d had a few really bad periods where he’d had some pretty dark thoughts. But Pandora had always pulled him back, and now he knew why. 

Barty had been a thorn in his side from the get-go. He was more annoying than anyone Evan had ever met and seemed to go out of his way to be a pain. But once he saw past the front and saw the vulnerable man underneath everything, and slotted into place. 

Never in a million years had he thought he would fall in love and move in with someone in such a short amount of time. But here he was in an insane house about to make love to the love of his life. Life couldn’t get much better than this. 

He pressed his hips down and swallowed the moan Barty let out. He’d have to be extremely gentle with him, but Evan didn’t mind. He’d do anything for Barty. 

“Are you ready, Darling?” he asked, reaching for the bottle on the bedside table. 

“Evan, please,” Barty gasped. 

“Shhh, my love, I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

Next part

[rosekillermicrofic]

Prompt 19 - Attract

@rosekillermicrofic June 19, word count 295

Previous part First part Wolfstar series part 1

Barty hadn’t quite managed to get all his clothes off. He was struggling to get his t-shirt over his head, and his socks were just out of his reach. So he looked quite ridiculous when Evan came into their new master suite.

“Wow, that’s a new way to attract my attention,” Evan smirked, a laugh escaping him before he came over and helped Barty get the rest of his clothes off. 

It had been a strange thing the first time they’d been together. Barty had had a mild panic attack as he hadn’t been with anybody since Regulus, and he felt like he was betraying his love for Regulus by finding love and happiness with Evan, and sex was the final goodbye to the love he thought he’d have for the rest of his life. Evan had been so kind about everything and just held him, hadn’t even thought about pressuring him. Evan made him realise that he could have a new life and have new experiences even though Regulus was gone, because he’d always be a part of Barty, and that was alright. He had no idea where Evan Rosier had come from, but he was so glad they’d found each other and realised that the other wasn’t actually a stuck-up git. 

As Evan helped him onto the bed and got him into a comfortable position before he began stripping off his own clothes, Barty felt the biggest wave of love for him yet. 

“I love you, you know? So much. I am literally bursting with my feelings for you,” Evan paused halfway on the bed. He cocked his head and smiled a darling smile. 

“I love you too, more than I can say.” 

He leaned over Barty, and Barty didn’t say another word. 

Next part

[rosekillermicrofic]

Prompt 17 - Rainbow

@rosekillermicrofic June 17, word count 539

Previous part First part Wolfstar series part 1

“I still win,” Barty declared happily as he munched his way through the pilfered biscuit. He made a show of licking his fingers and taking another from the packet Evan had brought through. 

The next few days were a whirlwind of activity, and Barty was helpless to help. Evan kept coming in to check on him and make sure he was comfortable, and while he found it sweet, it was also annoying as Evan would tell him about all the things he’d been doing to get them packed and ready for the move. He wanted to help, but he wasn’t even allowed to so much as pack sofa cushions into an empty box. And when the day came for them to move, Sirius, Remus, James, Lily, Marlene, Dorcas and Mary all turned up ready to fill Dorcas’s van up with all Evan’s belongings and ferry it to the new house. He’d thought for sure he’d be allowed to move some of the smaller, lighter boxes but Mary took one look at him and shook her head, so grumbling the entire time he took the cats into the living room and shut the door, they’d fill the van up with the upstairs first and do the ground floor on the second run. 

“Come on, darlings. I promise you’ll be happy when you see where you’ll be living from now on,” Barty cooed softly as he coaxed the cats into their carriers. They’d vacated the living room and gone upstairs to what had been their bedroom. The cats were very upset by not only the noise of the others, but also that all the furniture was missing. It had taken him a while and a lot of treats to calm them down again. They were still a bit skittish, but they were safe in their boxes now and would forget all about this once they arrived at the house. 

“Ready?” Evan asked as he popped his head around the door. 

“Yes,” Barty answered as he clipped Mavis’s box shut. 

“Brilliant. I’ll pop them in the car and then we can head off. We managed to get everything in the van,” Evan beamed at him. Barty nodded and said a final farewell to the house that he’d grown to love as he’d grown to love Evan. 

“Onto a new adventure,” he murmured to himself as he descended the stairs and stepped out onto the street. 

Evan locked up, and they pulled away together in convoy to Alphard’s. 

It was late in the afternoon, almost evening, when they arrived. It had begun to rain as soon as they left the city, which Barty thought was absolutely typical. The cats hadn’t stopped wailing since the car had started and were giving Barty a headache. He let his forehead rest against the glass, the cold glass soothing his sore head. 

Not long later, Evan turned onto the driveway, the gravel crunching under his wheels and turned the car off. 

“Ready, darling?” Evan asked, reaching out and squeezing Barty’s hand. Barty took a deep breath and nodded. He opened the car door and was greeted by the most vivid rainbow he’d ever seen spanning the sky, framing the house perfectly. He smiled. He was finally home. 

Next part

[rosekillermicrofic]

Prompt 18 - Role

@rosekillermicrofic June 18, word count 406

Previous part First part Wolfstar series part 1

“Ready, Darling?” Evan asked as he reached over and squeezed Barty’s hand. He knew today had been hard on him. Barty wanted to help, but he was still healing, and Mary was scary. 

They got out of the car and were greeted by the most beautiful rainbow Evan had ever seen. It seemed to heal something in Barty as, watching him watch it, Evan saw an invisible stress leave his body, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “Let’s get these cats out. I’ve set up a little spot for them upstairs while we put the rest of the stuff in. Why don’t you go see Regulus while we’re doing that?” Barty turned to look at him, a softness to his eyes. 

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” He helped Evan settle the cats in and then went outside. Evan brought him a chair to sit on and left him to it. 

“Evan, you have the world's heaviest sofa,” Marlene complained as she, James, Lily and Dorcas all heaved it from the van. 

“It was comfortable,” was all he said as an explanation as he went to help them lift it. 

His role as a furniture mover over with, he presented his new friends with bulging boxes of confectionery from their favourite bakery. Dorcas, Marlene and Mary left soon after with their sweet treats held protectively in their hands, but Sirius, Remus, Lily and James all stuck around for a while. It was nice not being entirely alone in a new house. Sirius went through a few things with them, like the heating and where to put the bins, so the lorry picked them up. But after a few hours, they all dispersed, and Evan and Barty were finally alone. 

“So new house,” Evan said conversationally. 

“Yeah,” Barty agreed, sipping the cup of tea Evan had made for him. 

“How are your wounds?” he asked, trying to be subtle. 

“They’re fine!” Barty spat out, clearly tired of people asking him. 

“I was only asking because,” he took a long gulp of his tea, making Barty wait. “The house needs christening and I need your help with that,” he’d never seen Barty drink a cup of tea so quickly. 

“Go lock the doors, I’ll meet you upstairs,” Barty called out as he hurried towards the stairs. Evan laughed but made sure everything was shut down for the night and followed his eager boyfriends upstairs. 

[rosekillermicrofic]

attract - @rosekillermicrofic - wc: 485

The sun was setting low behind the city skyline, spilling warm amber light through the café windows. Barty stirred his iced coffee absently with a metal straw, the clink-clink-clink a steady rhythm that matched the nerves bouncing inside his ribcage.

Evan sat across from him, lazily flipping through something on his phone. His curls glinted gold where the sun hit them. His rings glinted too. Barty had spent an embarrassing amount of time memorizing those hands.

“Okay,” Barty started, as nonchalantly as he could. “So, out of curiosity—like, totally general, hypothetical curiosity—what do you find attractive in a future partner?”

Evan blinked, then raised an eyebrow slowly. “You’re asking me what I look for in someone I’d date?”

“Yeah.” Barty took a casual sip, then immediately regretted it because the coffee was still too cold and too sweet and he had asked too fast. “I mean, not because I’m planning to apply for the job or anything.” His voice cracked halfway through.

Evan grinned into his mug. “That was extremely specific phrasing for something supposedly casual.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“No,” Evan said, setting his drink down. “I’m just savoring the moment. You never ask questions like that unless your brain is on fire.”

Barty made a face. “My brain is always on fire.”

“Exactly.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Barty started chewing on the straw, waiting. Evan finally leaned back, thoughtful.

“I guess…” He shrugged one shoulder. “I like someone who doesn’t take themselves too seriously. Who can challenge me, but also knows when to shut up and sit on the couch with me in silence.”

Barty nodded like he wasn’t already writing it down in his mind word for word.

Evan continued, frowning like he wasn’t sure if he was saying too much. “I like someone loyal. Not performative loyalty, not like—grand declarations or Instagram posts. Just someone who remembers what I say. Who listens.”

Barty tried not to squirm. “You want a golden retriever boyfriend.”

“No,” Evan said, and looked directly at him. “I want someone sharp. Messy, even. But someone who wants me enough to try.”

Barty swallowed. “Wow.”

Evan smirked. “Why? You gonna set me up with someone?”

“No,” Barty said, too quickly. Then, trying to salvage his dignity: “I mean, maybe. If I meet anyone who fits that description and isn’t an idiot.”

“That’s a tall order,” Evan murmured, and he was still watching Barty too closely.

Barty’s fingers tapped an anxious beat on the side of his glass. “So you don’t go for the quiet, bookish type?”

“I go for people who make my life feel less predictable.”

Barty blinked. “That’s… vague.”

Evan smiled, soft and devastating. “That’s you, B.”

And suddenly Barty wasn’t sure if the warmth rising in his chest was from the late sun or the fact that Evan had just looked at him like he wasn’t hypothetical at all.