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bri-cheeses · 7 months

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Dorcas stares as pink and red confetti starts falling over Evan’s head. They’re currently seated at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, eating breakfast, and it happens to be Valentine’s Day.

“Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer,” Dorcas tells him, eyebrows raised in mirth. Her fork is paused halfway between her plate and her mouth, food forgotten in favor of poking fun.

Evan’s surprised and somewhat confused expression turns into a frown as he starts swiping at the confetti, which has gotten thicker and has started to fall much more frequently.

“Yeah,” he replies, hands swatting around his head, “because it’s such a big secret as to who it is.” He sends a meaningful look to Barty, who’s seated just left of him.

In response to that accusation, Barty simply grins and says in an unconvincingly innocent voice, “Don’t look at me, I have no idea who would do such a thing.”

“Right,” Evan says, “because you’d never do such a thing in your life. Showering me in confetti just sounds so unlike your subtle touch. Wish my “secret admirer” would send me chocolate instead of all this confetti, though.”

Barty lifts his hands in a “don’t-mind-me” gesture, shaking his head slightly. It might have been a slightly more convincing act if he hadn’t had a shit-eating grin plastered to his face. “Still don’t know what you’re looking at me for, though.”

There’s a sudden burst of laughter from Dorcas. Traces of her amusing are evident on her face as she looks back towards Evan and says, “Yeah, well, I personally can’t blame you for wanting chocolate instead of a cloud of confetti. You better hope that thing doesn’t follow you around all day.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for chocolate,” Evan promises, shooting a dirty look at Barty before mumbling a quick “Finite incantatem” at the confetti.

Oddly enough, the counter jinx isn’t enough to stop the flow of red and pink. The continued falling of confetti despite his best efforts causes Evan to huff a defeated sigh and simply give up. He goes back to eating his breakfast, not bothering to ask Barty how to get the confetti to stop, because he knows that Barty will deny knowing anything. Sometimes, Evan thinks that his boyfriend is going to be the death of him.

Thankfully, however, the confetti stops once he’s walked out of the Great Hall, step in step with Barty as they head to their upcoming class.

“It’s stopped,” Evan comments as soon as he’s noticed the absence of red and pink, looking up in disbelief. “How’d you do that?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Barty says, smiling up at the ceiling.

Evan simply shakes his head at Barty’s antics, then grabs his hand and drags him off to class.

Their classes leading up until lunch pass without incident, thankfully. Well, without a Valentine’s Day related incident, at least. (Not without any accidents entirely, because one of the Hufflepuff girls was so bad a casting a certain spell that it caused the Charms room to be filled with the smell of rotten eggs, but luckily the odor dissipated after only a minute or two).

So, after the incident in Charms, Barty and Evan find themselves walking to the Great Hall for lunch, trying to get the smell of rotten eggs out of their noses. As they walk together, Evan has the feeling that it’s almost past time for his “secret admirer” to strike again. His gaze slides to Barty, but Barty’s expression gives nothing away—good or bad.

Walking into the Great Hall does nothing to stop Evan’s growing apprehension (though the smell of lunch food does help with the egg problem), and he looks up to see if the cloud of confetti has returned. To Evan’s relieved surprise, it hasn’t.

Off to his left comes a small laugh, no doubt Barty realizing why Evan suddenly looked up at the ceiling. Evan nudges him with his elbow to get him to stop, but it doesn’t have the intended effect. Rather, Barty simply drags them closer to Slytherin table, then plops down at his usual spot.

Evan, however, remains standing, eyeing his seat warily.

“What?” Barty says playfully, noticing Evan’s hesitation, “It’s not like it’s going to bite or anything.”

“Right, but you’ll excuse me if I’m a little worried it might turn my hair pink, or something as equally ridiculous.”

Barty’s laugh is easily forthcoming, and mischief dances in his eyes as he says, “Well, if it’ll make you feel better, you can always sit on my lap instead.”

He pats his lap invitingly, but Evan opts to simply sit on the wooden bench. No need to cause a scene at the lunch table, right?

Thankfully, his hair does not turn pink, and nothing out of the ordinary happens for the entirety of lunch.

No, the next gift from his admirer becomes evident only after he’s finished eating, as Evan goes to pick his bag back up.

Somehow, over the course of one lunch, its contents have managed to triple in weight. So Evan looks down into his bag to see what caused the sudden change, then shoots an incredulous glance towards Barty. Barty’s still working on finishing his food and is steadfastly ignoring what is happening to the right of him. But the fact that the corner of his mouth has turned up into a smirk gives him away instantly.

“Barty,” Evan calls to get him to look over, a sarcastic tint coloring his words, “you want some chocolate, by any chance?”

He turns his bag to Barty, opening it up. Barty doesn’t look at all surprised to see a multitude of wrapped chocolates filling the bag up to the brim, and his expression is gleeful as he chirps out a mischievous “Sure!” and takes a chocolate.

Unwrapping it, he pops it into his mouth and smiles at Evan as he chews. “You know,” he says, after having finished it, “this admirer of yours is incredibly smart. They even got you your favorite type of chocolate and everything.”

Evan raises his eyebrows at him. “Yeah, he must be incredibly wise to do such a thing.”

“Now now, Evan,” Barty cuts in, waggling a finger at Evan. “You mustn’t assume that this secret admirer is a guy, you know. It could be anyone.”

“Whatever you say, dearest,” Evan replies, then gets up and blows a kiss at Barty, walking backwards before turning around to go meet up with Pandora.

From there, everything is normal. Barty is his usual flirty self, the castle is decked out in pink and red, and Evan eats a ridiculous amount of chocolate as he goes throughout his day. Everything is fine, that is, until dinner.

The problem with dinner is not that there is confetti or that there are hundreds of chocolates. No, it is that every item of food that Evan touches turns to some shade of red.

His water turns into a bright shade of fuchsia as soon as his lips touch it, his main dish becomes colored with deep reds and pale pinks, and even the cheesecake he has for desert turns into a lovely magenta shade as he eats it.

Maybe it shouldn’t make Evan smile as much as it does, but by the time that dinner is over, he’s laughing so much that he can hardly finish his brightly colored cheesecake.

Barty, of course, still denies everything. But his expression is incredibly fond as he gazes at his boyfriend, drinking in Evan’s every smile.

That night, Barty excuses himself from dinner early, but not without slipping a folded piece of paper into Evan’s pocket. Evan doesn’t notice right away, too busy laughing alongside Dorcas and Pandora.

However, Evan does notice the parchment during a break in the conversation some time later. Sliding the paper from his pocket, he unfolds it to find a simple note. “Come up to the dorm,” it says. Evan smiles as he takes it in, eyes sliding back over the words. It’s written in Barty’s handwriting, slightly crooked but endearingly so.

“I’ve gotta go,” he says as he stands, attempting to make a smooth exit.

From the look on Regulus’s face, he doesn’t quite manage it. “Do I want to know?” Regulus asks, grimacing.

Evan grins. “Depends on what it is, doesn’t it? Anyways, bye guys, I’ll see you later.”

There’s a mumbled chorus of goodbyes, and Evan grabs his bag. (Which happens to be noticeably lighter than it was at lunch, but we don’t need to talk about that).

Walking through the halls at this specific hour is a bit odd, because almost everyone is at dinner. There’s no one wandering about the castle as Evan makes his way to the dorm, his footsteps echoing loudly on the gray stones.

He gives this week’s password as he nears the common room, passing through it in order trek up the stairs that lead to the boys’ dorms.

As he pushes the door to his dorm open, he doesn’t know what he expects. Whatever he does expect, however, is not what he finds.

Barty is standing in the middle of the room, wearing a wide grin. And in his hands is a bouquet of gorgeous roses, their petals a deep red color.

Evan’s mouth falls slightly open as he takes in the scene, crossing over to Barty to fawn over the flowers.

Tracing a finger along one of the rose’s petals, he whispers softly, “Where did you get these? They’re beautiful.”

Barty shrugs, but Evan can tell that he’s pleased by the reaction he’s gotten. “Magicians never tell their secrets, Evs.”

Evan hums at that, taking the flowers from Barty’s outstretched hands. “Well, either way, thank you. They’re really, really pretty. ”

“Only for you,” Barty replies, gazing at Evan, who looks up and smiles shyly at him.

A thought then occurs to Evan, and he pauses for a second before asking, “Do you have a vase for these? I don’t want them to die.”

“Oh, uh, hold on one sec—“ Barty rifles through his pockets as if he’s going to find a vase there, and Evan looks on in amused silence.

After minute of confused rummaging, Evan realizes that Barty’s looking for his wand—which happens to be tucked right behind his ear.

“Barty,” he says, amusement lacing his words, “your wand’s right here.” He reaches out a hand and slides the wand out of place, then presents it to his bemused boyfriend.

“Oh, right,” Barty says, reaching out to take it, “I put it there so I wouldn’t forget where it was, you know.”

“Only you, Bee,” Evan says, smiling as Barty conjures a vase to put the bouquet in. Evan takes the vase from him and puts the roses in it, then walks over to his bedside table. He sets the vase down, positing it just so, and admires the roses for several moments.

“They really are lovely,” Evan says, still looking at the flowers. He turns around. “Thank you.”

Barty smiles. “Can’t resist the opportunity to lavish my boyfriend with gifts and chocolate and confetti, now can I?”

“Ah yes, my “secret admirer” has struck again, hasn’t he?”

“You know it,” Barty quips, swaying closer.

Evan closes the distance between them, tilting his face up towards Barty’s. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says, lips brushing against Barty’s. Barty kisses him in response, smiles lingering on both of their mouths.

“Happy Valentine’s,” Barty whispers back.

All in all, it’s the best Valentine’s either of them has had. And it doesn’t hurt that the chocolate lasts for weeks, either.

#I FINALLY finished it #and it’s still Valentines for me so #yay me!!#and yes I did stay up late and got up early to work on getting this out on time #and was still late compared to my usual posting time so there’s that #but i still managed to do it!!#and that’s what matters #rosekiller #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #slytherin skittles #marauders era #marauders fandom #Barty treating the whole thing as a joke until the end hehe 🤭#because he really does love Evan <3 #he just thinks that Valentine’s day is kind of funny #rosekiller microfic #my microfics

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evil-ontheinside · 1 year

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Happy Birth to Mike! and a tiny (almost 2k) ficlet to celebrate :D

The apartment was darker and colder than usual. Or at least it felt like it at the moment: Mike sitting at his tiny kitchen table, barely big enough to fit two plates, and one single ray of sunshine reflecting on the picture frame placed on a table near the front door.

The picture was one of the Party, taken one day after graduation in the Byers’ new home in Hawkins.

Mike stared at it for a long moment, not even able to make out the faces from the distance but knowing exactly what it looked like anyway. He liked to look at it whenever he left the house or came back home. It was nice to know that the five most important people in his life were only a phone call away.

The phone had rung a total of three times today, which was more and less than Mike expected at the same time.

Joyce’s call just before she had been off to work in the morning had been a nice surprise. Even Hopper’s grumbling in the background, most likely still half asleep and craving his coffee, had only made Mike smile and then laugh when Joyce joked about Hopper loving his morning coffee more than her.

Nancy calling was always fifty/fifty. There had been last year when she had been drowned in paperwork the entire week and only remembered a month later that she completely missed the date. She had come to visit him as an apology, even though Mike had told her it was fine. This time she called, as usual during entirely unpredictable times like four in the morning, while being incredibly hurried and letting him know that there will be mail coming sometime this week, let’s hope they don’t lose it again.

His mother had called sometime around lunch when Mike had been at work. She left a nice message on the answering machine, hoping he has a wonderful day and telling him about her women’s club meeting in the afternoon and who knows how long it will take this time, Dorothy knows how to talk the whole night if she wants to which was a subtle way of telling him that he won’t catch her if he called back. He did anyway and got Holly on the phone. She had been all too excited to talk to him, and he made a mental note to call more often if only to hear all about the newest elementary school gossip.

It seemed that his mother had kept her promise of not giving his number to any other relatives that might attack his phone line and would expect him to act polite while they talked about their problems and made underhanded jabs at him when they forgot that they were talking to him and not his mother. Not even good old Loren managed to get through, notorious for stealing at least two hours of your precious time and calling every five minutes until you picked up because she forgot to tell you about my neighbor’s dog, Henry, do you remember Henry?

Five other calls had arrived sporadically throughout the last month, all disappointing to various degrees but all equally dampening his mood.

The first had been Max. Since Mike couldn’t come to Hawkins like he had done the previous two years and her mother had just suffered a minor health scare, she wouldn’t be able to make the trip. Mike told her it was fine and that he hoped her mom was going to make a quick recovery and used the opportunity to open a bottle of wine a few hours after their call.

Lucas had been next, quite predictably, because he had decided to be the amazing person that he is, and went home to see his parents to subtly support Max and her mother. He wasn’t subtle at all but Mike was sure Lucas was well aware of the fact without his input.

Dustin had followed only a few days after Lucas, talking about this big project his favorite teacher had offered him and how it was an opportunity he couldn’t miss. Mike told him that he understood and wished him good luck which Dustin won't need anyway.

El hadn’t quite mentioned a reason when she called, only that she was really sorry and would try to make up for it the next time they saw each other. Then she wished him a good time with Will and hung up before Mike could ask any questions.

Will had told him last week even though Mike visited him for his birthday two weeks ago. Apparently, some big art project would keep him in New York for the near future. When he talked about it, Mike had been so proud of him because it sounded like a really big deal and Will had sounded nervous about it, like he usually got about his art. Mike would have felt awful to even consider asking him to come anyway, even though Will asked and made it quite clear that he would drop everything, you just have to say a word, Mike. Promise you’re not just saying it? Are you sure? Ok, I still really wish I could come. See you as soon as possible.

Mike’s eyes wandered from the framed picture back toward the table and the bowl of cereal in front of him. At this point, it was soggy and looked entirely unappetizing. Somehow, cereal only tasted good in the morning. It was too sweet and slimy any other time of day, especially if the cereal-milk ratio was completely out of order because of Mike’s embarrassingly empty fridge and pantry. One would think that with a grocery store just around the corner, having a decently stocked fridge wouldn’t be that hard.

Breakfast for dinner, Mike thought to himself and chuckled at his own dumb joke. I’m pretty sure cereal usually doesn’t count as breakfast for dinner, Mike. Probably not. The thought still looped around in his head for a full minute.

In the end, Mike didn’t eat the cereal. It looked more like soup at this point anyway.

Mike had just put the freshly rinsed bowl back into the cupboard when a knock on his door made him startle bad enough that he almost threw the spoon out of the window. Which would have been less than ideal because Mike only had five spoons to begin with (don’t ask what happened to the other five; and if you do, ask Dustin) and three of them were weirdly bent out of shape.

More knocking sounded throughout the quiet apartment while Mike carefully placed the piece of cutlery onto the counter and turned toward the door. If someone knocked, it usually was one of his neighbors. Which meant it was either someone asking for eggs or flour or something of the sort, which Mike didn't even have (see exhibit a: the saddest birthday dinner known to man), or Mr. Baggins from the second floor who, despite his very awesome last name, was mostly annoying and looking for a strong young man to help me with this box I just got in the mail. I don’t even remember what I bought, ha!

Mike could live without another two-hour endeavor and endless chatting but judging by the third round of knocks it would be something he won’t be able to escape tonight.

With a sigh entirely too dramatic but warranted---because Mike already had a really exhausting day at work with lots of customers that all had something to complain about and children with extra wishes ranging from no tomatoes please to demanding he went and bought a specific brand of bottled water for them just because they didn't like the taste of anything else. Frankly, Mike thought he didn't get paid enough for this, and since all his coworkers agreed with him, he must be right---he made his way over to the door and opened it without much hesitation to just get it over with.

Instead of Mr. Baggins, who really didn’t deserve his name, Mike was greeted by five familiar faces, grinning expressions, and an assortment of snacks and drinks distributed more or less equally between all of them.

For a second, nothing happened. It was almost as if the rest of the Party didn’t expect him to open the door so soon or at all and Mike wasn’t sure what to do with the unexpected company when he had planned on accompanying a better Mr. Baggins on his quest and going to bed early.

Before Mike could question anything, his arms were full of El who squeezed the air out of his lungs, pressed a kiss against his cheek, and wished him an enthusiastic happy birthday while expertly pushing him back into his apartment and clearing the doorway for the others. There surely was an explanation why she only carried a single package of potato chips that he would be sure to hear within the next few hours.

Dustin, with his arms full enough that Mike wondered how he hadn’t left a trail of snacks in the hallway, bumped their shoulders together and echoed El’s words before following her and dumping the food onto the couch.

Lucas was sensible enough to transfer his charge onto one arm to give Mike one side hug and ruffle his hair while he was at it. Mike finally gained enough brain cells to splutter and bat his hand away, which only made Lucas laugh before he joined the other two who already managed to start bickering about the best way to arrange the snacks.

Max, cane in hand and backpack on her back, made a show out of hitting him with her cane a few times before pulling him into a tight hug. She grinned at him, told him that he was way too naïve sometimes but not to worry, they would only tease him about it for the rest of his life.

Last was Will, looking a little sheepish but highly amused while he closed the door behind him and kicked off his shoes at the entrance. He put his backpack down and pulled Mike into a hug without pausing or explaining anything.

Mike wrapped his own arms around Will, breathing in the familiar scent of his shampoo and relaxing with the boyfriend-shaped human in his arms. The confusion from earlier and disappointment of the last month gave way to a quiet calm that always accompanied Will’s comforting presence. With the Party chattering in the background, Mike couldn’t have imagined any other place he would rather be than right here in Will’s arms.

“You didn’t think we would leave you all alone on your birthday, right?” Will’s voice was muffled because his face was buried into Mike’s sweater and Mike thought it was the best sound in the world because it meant that Will was close and here and not all the way in New York.

“You were very convincing,” Mike mumbled, tightening his hold on Will and pulling him even closer. Will did the same, one hand resting at the back of Mike’s head and the other rubbing circles into his back as if he could sense the stinging in Mike’s eyes.

“Will! Stop hogging the birthday boy!” Dustin’s voice was way too loud for the thin walls of Mike’s apartment but he chuckled anyway. They pulled away and Will pressed a firm kiss to Mike’s lips.

“Happy Birthday, Mike. Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

#yay! I managed to do something after all!#I was already pretty sure I wouldn't write anything for Mike's birthday :(#but I did!#this whole idea came to me bc I was planning on eating cereal for dinner tonight #(I didn't but I also think my cereal is a little different from typical American cereal so it wouldn't have been as sad as Mike's anyway)#but then I had the breakfast for dinner phrase stuck in my head so yeah. this happened #anyway happy birthday to Mike! he's my favorite and deserves a nice birthday even through I only wrote the sadder part of it oops #also Holly crumbs! she's always in my fics somehow #also my brain had some problems with english today which might explain anything weird you might come across in this #byler #stranger things #mike wheeler #writing #byler fanfic

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