rosekiller is all cuddles, making out in bed, soft touches, hugs and endless sweet talks, sensual yet gentle love bites, featherlight caresses, quiet laughter and spooning.
barty jokingly flirting with james just for the purpose of annoying the fuck out of regulus, but while doing that resting his hand somewhere on evan’s body (maybe squeezing his thigh or tracing shapes on his shoulder or some cute shit like that) just to make sure evan knows he’s only joking because evan gets insecure and doubtful so easily
and after getting the reassurance that barty does infact love him and him only, evan relaxes and jumps into the joke, too
non-sexual things barty and evan do to let people know they belong to each other....
matching outfits. not necessarily in the sense that they wear the same clothes, but that they complement or mirror each other, in color, fabric, or pattern
they drop each other's names often in their conversations
they use the same cologne, so they smell the same
they put a ring on each other's finger waaaay before they decided to get married
physical thouch, a lot of physical touch. barty wraps an arm around evan's shoulders and caresses his face, evan rests a hand on barty's thigh, barty falls asleep on evan's shoulder, evan puts his arms around his hips...
they sign with their name + the other's last name
they have a photo of each other in their wallets
matching tattoos in visible places
more than once, someone has seen them do something absolutely disgusting, like barty spitting a gum into evan's palm and him putting it in his mouth
I need more soft Rosekiller/ them just holding onto each other because they find comfort one another, like give me Barty having to have his head on Evans chest to make sure he can hear his heart when he stressed or Evan having to have some part of him holding onto Barty like them holding hands or only holding each other’s fingers as a way to ground them. I JUST WANT SOFTER ROSEKILLER PLEASE
(Like I love them when they are bit violent with each other but I just know that they are always soft with each other due to trauma and they are both working through it together)
YES THIS IS MY FAVE DYNAMIC OF THEM!! they're so soulmates coded and find all the comfort they need in each other and their main love language is definitely physical touch for both of them so they are always clinging onto each other augh
barty bothering evan in english class, trying to get him to a drawing contest because he couldn’t care less about the lesson. he doodles all kinds of dirty shit on evan’s paper until evan has enough and draws a genuine masterpiece just to shut him up. obviously barty is irritated for the rest of the day.
Barty doesn’t realize he’s still talking until his throat starts to feel a little raw and his words begin to blur together.
It had started the second he walked through the door.
“—and then this guy, right, he swears he wants something minimal, like he literally says ‘tiny, subtle,’ and I’m thinking, great, easy, we love that—”
Evan hums softly, fingers threading through Barty’s hair in slow, practiced motions. It’s automatic at this point—Barty drops onto the couch, head in Evan’s lap, and Evan takes over from there. A rhythm. A routine.
“—but then he pulls out this reference,” Barty continues, waving a hand somewhere in the air, “and it’s, like, a full chest piece. I’m not even exaggerating. Dragons, flames, the whole dramatic saga—”
Evan’s fingers scratch lightly at his scalp.
Barty melts further into him.
“—and I tell him, ‘that’s not minimal,’ and he goes, ‘well, I want it delicate,’ and I’m like, those are not the same—Evan, they’re not the same—”
Another soft hum. Agreement, probably. Or maybe just acknowledgment.
Barty keeps going.
He talks about the apprentice who almost passed out during a piercing. About the playlist at the shop that got stuck on the same three songs for an hour. About a woman who tipped him with homemade cookies that may or may not have been underbaked but he ate anyway because she looked proud.
At some point, his voice slows. Not because he’s running out of things to say—Barty never runs out of things to say—but because the warmth of Evan’s lap and the steady motion in his hair is dragging him somewhere soft and hazy.
Still, he keeps talking.
“…and I told him, if you touch that again before it heals, I will personally haunt you,” he mutters, words starting to slur together. “Like, not even in a threatening way, just… a promise…”
Evan’s fingers don’t stop. They comb, scratch, smooth. Over and over.
Time passes.
A lot of time.
Barty doesn’t notice how long until he pauses mid-sentence and the quiet stretches just a second too long.
His eyes blink open.
“…wait.”
Evan’s hand is still in his hair.
The room is dimmer than it was before. The light outside has shifted—golden hour bleeding into something softer, something evening.
Barty goes still.
“How long have I been talking?” he asks slowly.
Evan doesn’t answer right away. His fingers just glide through Barty’s hair again, like the question isn’t urgent. Like nothing is.
That’s when it hits.
Barty bolts upright so fast he nearly headbutts Evan’s chin.
“Jesus—Evan, why didn’t you tell me to shut up?” he blurts, already scrambling off the couch. “I’ve been going on forever, haven’t I? You were just sitting there—fuck, you were being polite—”
He starts pacing, running his hands through his own hair now, undoing all of Evan’s careful work.
“I didn’t even ask about your day, I just came in and started—God, I do this all the time, don’t I? I just talk and talk and—”
He turns, ready to keep spiraling, already halfway into an apology—
And Evan moves.
It’s quick, but not rushed. Deliberate.
His hand catches Barty’s wrist mid-gesture.
The contact is warm. Grounding.
Barty freezes.
Evan tugs—just enough to stop him, not enough to pull him off balance. His thumb brushes once over the inside of Barty’s wrist, absentminded, familiar.
“Barty.”
The way he says it—quiet, steady—cuts clean through the noise in Barty’s head.
Barty swallows. “Yeah?”
Evan looks at him like this is simple. Like this has always been simple.
“I love the sound of your voice.”
Barty blinks.
Once. Twice.
“…what?”
Evan’s expression doesn’t change. If anything, it softens, just slightly at the edges.
“I like listening to you,” he says, like he’s clarifying something obvious. “You get excited. You ramble. You make everything sound more interesting than it has any right to be.”
His thumb brushes Barty’s wrist again.
“It’s my favorite part of your day.”
Barty stares at him.
There’s a laugh somewhere in his chest, but it gets stuck halfway up, tangled with something warmer, something heavier.
“You’re insane,” Barty mutters, but it comes out quieter than usual. Less bite, more disbelief.
Evan just shrugs, like that’s not really a denial.
“Come back,” he says, giving Barty’s wrist a small tug.
Barty hesitates for half a second.
Then he folds.
He drops back onto the couch, a little less dramatically this time, settling with his head in Evan’s lap again like he was never gone. Like this is where he’s meant to be.
Evan’s fingers return to his hair immediately. Like they missed it.
For a moment, Barty is quiet.
Then—
“Okay, but I didn’t even get to the worst part,” he says, already shifting, already warming back up. “Because after the dragon guy left—”
Evan smiles, small and private, fingers moving in slow, steady patterns.
She's one of those people lowkey obsessed with sourdough and she bakes her own and gives it to her friends in cute little bags with ribbons tied on them
Regulus hiding his face in James neck and laughing quietly. James wrapping his arms around Regulus waist and smiling brightly at the small sound until Regulus is calmed down enough to pull back just enough to let James kiss him gently.
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