devilish

EVAN XAVIER ROSIER i dare you to come closer. death eater

[nick-mulciber]

Nick laughed, toasting his friend. It had been a sight to behold truly. All that beautiful panic and terrified screaming. It had made his blood sing. There was nothing else like it, nothing could compare. He felt giddy with it.

"You're telling me! I bit my cheek so hard it bled trying to keep myself from laughing." He said, still chuckling. "We ought to take out more of them, don't you think? They're getting complacent."

[rsrevan]

Evan smirked, letting out a low, mirthless chuckle. He tapped the rim of his glass, sending tiny rings of amber across the counter. “Complacent, you say? Oh, absolutely. One would almost forgive them for thinking the world still made sense.” He leaned back, eyes narrowing thoughtfully, though the grin never left his face. “But really, Nick… it’s almost too easy, isn’t it? They run about, screaming, thinking someone might save them. And we? We just… watch the theater unfold. Deliciously predictable.”

He drained the last of his drink and set the glass down with a soft clink. “I do wonder how far we could push it before the real fun begins. Care to brainstorm over another round, or are you content letting them scurry in terror a little longer?”

[hcalingherbs]

The witch's face lit up with a grin. "And I might just let you. It's a festival. Snacks and sweet treats seem to be something that might be found on a checklist to assure a festival has gone by with everyone pleased with the outcome." Whether that was actually true was no concern to the blonde. At the end of the day, through hard work, the twins had always been able to make their own path in the world.

"Right. I somehow had a feeling about that." Evan appeared to be in his element and Leta honestly would have been the last person to stop him from experiencing the fullest of his freedom. "Just make sure to have a good time. Besides that I don't think I could ask anything of you." Supportive, as always.

His question caused her to whirl, head snapping to look at him with an expression one could have interpreted as surprise, among others. "Me? Taking someone home?" A shrug. "I don't think I am looking, dear brother. I am not your level of adventurous. Besides, my answer about that hasn't changed. I'm a one-wizard-witch." Leta was far too loyal to stray from that path. And she cared too deeply to dare. - @rsrevan

[rsrevan]

Evan chuckled, looping his arm with hers as they walked through the stalls. “Well, I can’t argue with a checklist that keeps everyone happy,” he said with a playful shrug, his eyes scanning the bustling fayre. “And you’ve always had a knack for making your own path, Leta. I suppose it’s reassuring to see you still sticking to it, one-wizard-witch or not.”

He nudged her lightly with his shoulder, grinning. “But you know, I had to ask. Festivals like this… it’s about fun, a little mischief, maybe even tempting fate a bit. You never know what might happen.” He let his tone soften, amusement mixing with warmth. “Honestly, though, I’m just glad we’re here together, getting to enjoy it without worrying about anything else. Besides, someone has to make sure the sweets and treats are up to the very highest standard, and I’m more than willing to volunteer.”

[its-jamespotter]

"Morality is not a dream or fantasy; it is a common decency that is being ignored," he said flatly. "Who are we to say what is fair and unfair? I don't even remember your profession as I don't think about you at all, but I doubt you or your friends are all stacked on each other's shoulders under a coat impersonating the Minister of Magic. You do not have the right to question authority and yet here we are, in a deep division of political culture. How do you justify political violence that has spiked? How does that benefit our communities and the people within them? People are losing their friends, families, and jobs, and for what? What is worth it?"

James sat in hot anger, knowing he should stop talking. Any one of his friends would shake him by his shoulders and say it isn't worth it. He had traded school ground brawls for savy conversations like this as it did something for him to see another perspective, but Rosier only made his insides twist. People were so dispicable to not see other people as people or how their actions could change the course of that person's life. James thought of Marlene who lost her family, Sirius who lost his because of differences aired out at the fault of the You-Know-Who. If he didn't exist, if the war stopped, none of this would be happening. James wanted to end the war so it stopped happening to his friend's families, others', and soon to be his own. The world was ugly right now and poisoned by hate.

"You confuse honor with intention. I know what the cost of this war is for the hundreds who are affected, for the thousands who will be affected for years to come. You spoke of Gryffindor courage, but that is not what is in my heart now," he said with a shake of his head. "I barely feel anything. I am not made of anything anymore. I am tired and tired of losing people to this. It is a tragedy for everyone whether you disagree or not. We are perpetuating violence that will always be part of the equation and perhaps that is just how the world will turn now." James knew they were openly talking about politics and using hypotheticals to emphasis those points, but the conversation made James more convinced Evan Rosier was a Death Eater but there was nothing he could do to prove it unless he reached across the polished table and shoved that sleeve up Rosier's forearm. That's where his gaze was when he brought his eyes back to Rosier. "What, misfits? Watch your mouth, those are my misfits you're talking about," he said with a hint of sarcasm for the first time in the conversation. "Again, if I were to defy people by how they were in school, then I would be targeting any Slyhterin who owned a broom. But unlike you, I didn't peak only school and that's good enough for me." James was about to insert another opinion when someone took their empty glasses and asked about a refill. A cold shiver ran down his spine, making it seem as though he and Rosier were having a friendly conversation on the outside. James blinked, glancing around and remembering where he was.

[rsrevan]

He let out a soft, airy laugh, tilting his head back as though James’ solemnity were a particularly dull joke. “Morality, decency, tragedy-- Potter, do you ever get tired of saying big words and pretending they carry weight?” He waved a hand, lazily, as if brushing away the ideas themselves. “The world is ugly, poisoned, tragic… you’ve got a flair for the obvious, I’ll give you that.”

Evan leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, chin in his hand, eyes glinting with amusement. “Honor, intention, courage… I could nod along politely, sip my drink, and pretend this matters, but why waste the theatrics? Honestly, your Gryffindor heartbreak is practically adorable.” He paused, letting the words hang, letting the corner of James’ mouth twitch ever so slightly. “And your misfits? Darling, they’re safe under your wing only because you choose to believe in safety. Cute, really. You’re so focused on who’s right and wrong that you’ve forgotten how power actually works. School never really taught you that, did it?”

The smile dropped just enough to let the edge slip in, and he straightened, voice lowering, smooth but sharp. “But… if you really want to talk politics, Potter, then fine. Listen carefully: we see the world as it is, not as you hope it should be. The strong rule, the weak submit, and anything in between is just fuel. Chaos is a tool, fear a language, loyalty a weapon. Everything you call tragedy is opportunity; everything you call morality is negotiable. You want to stop the world from turning? I’d suggest starting by learning how it does. Or else you've lost this war already, which honestly, we could just admit to right now."

[beckavery]

The praise in Evan's voice conjured a flicker of heat to run down Beck's back. The rest of the world faded, reducing his attention to only Evan and wherever his friend's hands landed. In honesty, Beck didn't know what he was expecting tonight, only wanting to be lulled by alcohol and wake up wherever the world intended him to be. There was a dark depression trying to lunge out of him that he was insistent on ignoring. It was the first time in a while that something was alive in him at least, loathing that it was Evan bringing it out of him, swearing into every impulse his friend gave him. Beck hissed out a breath as his back met the wall, his hands scrambling to grip Evan's back in an attempt to take off whatever clothes were between them.

"Fuck-" he said on the end of a sigh, gasping into Evan's mouth, at the heat of Evan's want pressed against his own. It was all that was leading this charge. Evan's words filled the space between them and Beck's eyes rolled backwards in pleasure and annoyance. "Stop talking," Beck growled, his hand raising to flex his fingers around Evan's neck lightly. It was good that they were friends to know each other how they already did, their mannerisms and their banter. Beck didn't know if any of that would be left after tonight. He pushed off the wall, his hands never leaving Evan's waist as he guided them towards the bedroom with more stumbling than he would've preferred. Beck pushed Evan onto the bed, his eyes darkened at the sight as he raised his shirt over his head and joined him.

[rsrevan]

Evan’s hands gripped Beck with deliberate force, steadying him as he guided them to the bed. A low, satisfied hum escaped him as the wizard pushed him down, his body eager, his eyes dark with want. “Well done, boy,” Evan murmured, ignoring his plea, voice thick with approval and something sharper underneath. “Finally letting yourself feel… finally letting me see it.”

He leaned down, claiming his lips with a rough, demanding kiss, teeth and tongue testing, asserting, marking the rhythm of control. His hands roamed with intent, memorizing every curve, every shiver, every unguarded tremor. Evan’s grin was wicked, private. He could feel it sparking something in Beck a hunger, abandon, a readiness to follow wherever he led. Useful. Very useful. But that was later. Tonight, the world narrowed to the heat between them, the fire they ignited, the pleasure that wrapped them tight and left nothing else alive.

He lingered over Beck’s mouth, over every gasp and arch, letting the moment stretch, letting the night belong wholly to their hunger. The rest could wait. Tonight was theirs.

THE END.

[rsrevan]

where: evan's betting shop who: @nick-mulciber

Evan leaned back in the worn leather chair behind the counter of his betting shop, the golden glow of a single lamp casting long shadows across the room. The shutters were closed, the city outside silenced, leaving only the low hum of magic in the air. He swirled the dark amber liquid in his glass, letting it catch the light, then raised an eyebrow at Nick.

“Well, that was a delightful spectacle, wasn’t it?” he drawled, voice dripping with mock admiration. "“Fireworks, laughter… and oh, just a minor assassination. A former Minister of Magic, gone in the blink of an eye. Charming, really. Makes one almost feel sorry for the poor fool.”

[florenceyaxley]

"In that case, has it ever occured to you that i'd like to figure out what that is without being explicitly told?" she asked, an innocent look on her face as she tilted her head. An innocent look that was completely quelled by the sparkle in her eyes that said she was anything but.

Florence laughed again, shaking her head slightly as she leaned against the stall, waiting for him to meet her. "I'm sure you could afford it," she mused playfully before turning back to the vendor. "What can I say? I have my vices," she nodded at the mention of her sweet tooth. "Keep that in mind if you ever feel like sending me a gift," she joked.

"And if you win," she nodded, waiting for his answer and she looked up at him. "You seem pretty confident you'll enjoy this one enough to want another," she murmured, eyes flickering to the smirk that seemed ever present on his lips.

[rsrevan]

Evan’s smirk stretched a little wider, slow and deliberate, the kind that made it clear he wasn’t planning on backing down. He leaned casually against the stall, hands loose at his sides, his gaze flicking over her with a mixture of teasing and challenge. “Careful,” he murmured, voice smooth, “or I might start thinking you’re trying to distract me from the game.” He let the words hang just long enough for her to feel the playful warning, letting his eyes glint with that wicked amusement he owned too well.

He tapped the dartboard lightly with a finger, mock-considering the throws ahead. “But I like a fair fight, don’t get me wrong. Makes the victory taste even better when I know I’ve earned it. And, judging by that smirk of yours, you’re not going to make it easy for me, are you?”

Leaning slightly closer, he let his tone drop, teasing and confident. “I have a feeling you’re going to make this interesting. Don’t make me regret taking you on.” He flicked a glance at her, eyes sparkling with mischief, his grin daring her to make him work for it.

[hcalingherbs]

"If I didn't re-frame reality to suit myself as you so wonderfully put it - a quality we both share, I believe - we wouldn't be in the place we are today. With choices and a reputation of the good variety." Leta's words carried a hint of truth, a hint of teasing for she knew that her brother had a reputation all of his own that held entirely different meaning from the reputable status of a well-known seamstress and designer.

The witch slipped into a seat of her own, observing him as he spoke. There was surprise in her eyes at his words. "Talk to him?" Leta could only imagine what about. "To arrange things to defend my honor?" She chuckled. "If you wish to speak with him, I won't hold you back. Not something I can make a decision about, but if you must known, this is not something new. It's been something that's grown, for a while." A while and then some. What had started with dueling lessons had soon turned into something far sweeter than expected.

Her brother had always been a man who loved freedom more than anything. It was a luxury the twins had to pay for at a younger age and nothing could have made her forsake what was given with such dire means. "I'm noticing because you are who you are. It is good to see you as yourself. As for the whispers, those are hard to quell if most of society appears to be on the whispering or receiving end of your - what shall I call them - prowling streaks?" There was no judgement within her voice. Leta had always been rather accepting of her brother's choices. Freedom. - @rsrevan

[rsrevan]

Evan’s smile curved, wicked and knowing. “Your reputation sparkles, Leta. Mine… well, let’s say it leaves more of a mark. Different shades of the same paint, but both earned in full.” He wore his infamy the way she wore her elegance — as something inseparable from who they were.

“Defend your honor?” His laugh was low, dangerous, fond. “That’s not quite my style. If Antonin’s kept you lingering this long, I’d rather make sure he understands what it means to hold the attention of a Rosier twin. We don’t give ourselves away cheaply — not in love, not in anything.” His gaze lingered, part warning, part amusement, the weight of a brother who’d fight in the shadows for her without ever saying so aloud.

At her jest about his prowling streaks, he tipped his head back lazily, pretending to think it over. “That’s one way to phrase it. I call it keeping the world entertained. Society thrives on scandal, and I’ve always been charitable enough to feed them when they’re hungry.” A pause, a smirk tugging sharp at his lips as his eyes slid back to hers. “But don’t pretend you aren’t watching. If nothing else, I like knowing I’ll never stray too far. You wouldn’t let me.”

[florenceyaxley]

"Of course I have a sense of danger," she nodded, "How much I listen to it is up for debate but I definitely have one." Florence laughed, looking up at him with an elegent eyebrow raise. "You have a habit of mentioning what you like in a date," she mused. "Has it ever occurred to you that women aren't made solely to please you?" she asked teasingly.

She laughed, patting him gently as she pulled her arm from his. "You seem to have forgotten that I grew up with an older brother. I will lose all respect for you if you even think about going easy on me," she admonished with a warning look, walking towards the stall.

"Well, I'm playing for a sweet treat, fine; I've had my eye on one of those chimney cakes," she said. "But you? What do you get? In the unlikely event that you win."

[rsrevan]

Evan let out a low laugh, sharp at the edges, the kind that seemed to weigh whether her words were challenge or entertainment. “Never said women were made for it, just that I know what I like. If that happens to line up, all the better.” His smirk deepened, shoulders squaring with quiet confidence.

When she pulled her arm away, he let her go without resistance, though his eyes lingered with a dark amusement that implied he’d allowed it. He followed her toward the stall, his pace unhurried, all the more deliberate in contrast to her energy. “Good,” he said, the warning in her tone only fanning the spark in his. “I’d hate to think I’d wasted the price of admission on someone who couldn’t hold their own.”

At her mention of chimney cakes, he hummed, eyes flicking to the vendor before back to her. “Sweet tooth, then. Fitting.” His lips curved in a slow, mocking grin as he came to stand beside her. “And if I win? I’ll take another date.”

[its-marymac]

"Well, the festival of course!" she smiled awkwardly at his weird question. Mary understood that maybe answering questions wasn't everyone's cup of tea these days, especially for the Prophet but this event seemed less threatening than anything else these days. Mary stood with her quill poised over her parchment, ready to write. "Is this your first time coming here and what do you hope to see today?"

[rsrevan]

He commanded his features into a polite smirk that did not match his mood at all. "Right, the festival, of course." The blonde agreed with her, raising his brows with feigned excitement before the question landed. He would keep the act a bit longer, see if he could have his own fun at the festival. "First time, yes." He answered quickly with a swift nod of his head. "Is chaos a terrible answer? Calm is not fun for a festival, don't you agree?"

[beckavery]

Beck felt like he was pinned down by Evan's attention, unfamiliar with this side of him. They were sitting close now and Beck was intentional with his gaze, ghosting over what parts of Evan that he could while his lips began to kiss the rest. "I'm barely thinking at all," he said, wondering how much of that was true. While his thoughts were about Evan, he was still thinking about their friendship, edging towards a new definition that was no longer the same. Beck didn't give an answer when Evan stole him away from the bar and through the crowd towards the crisp evening.

All he could feel was lust spreading through him, fueling his only thoughts when Evan kissed him. Beck's hands tightened in Evan's hair, craddling the back of his head as his other hand steadied at his waist. There was barely space between them when Beck was tugging Evan back to crash their lips against each other. Evan wanted to see passion and no hesitation and Beck had to agree. Beck backed Evan against the alley wall, pressing him further against it with every kiss. With some easy practice, Beck turned them and in one swift apparation, they were in his apartment against a whole other new wall. "I'll give you the full tour later."

[rsrevan]

Evan’s laugh came low, sharp with delight, as his back hit the wall. Beck’s hunger wasn’t a surprise — not to him. He’d always known it was there, simmering beneath the healer’s polish and restraint. All it had taken was the right spark to burn it out of him. “Atta boy,” he murmured against Beck’s mouth, voice rich with approval, like a mentor watching his pupil finally step into the role he’d always imagined for him. “Knew you had it in you.”

But Evan was never one to stay pinned for long. With a sudden shift, his hands gripped Beck’s shoulders, spinning them with practiced ease until it was Beck who slammed back against the wall, the cold surface biting into his spine. The wizard's lips crashed into his again, harder this time, claiming, commanding. His fingers tangled into Beck’s hair, tugging just enough to tilt his head, to force him into yielding.

“You think this is about fun?” Evan breathed between kisses, the smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “This is what happens when you stop pretending. When you stop holding back. You let yourself go — and you find out who you really are.” He said as he pulled him for another kiss, rough and unrelenting.

[hcalingherbs]

It was possibly the calmest they'd ever been around each other. Before there had been walking shadows, two creatures so desperate not to stick out - to remain hidden even when the world wasn't looking - and now they were each a free person within an ever-growing, deeply and desperately chaotic world. Hiding didn't matter. Not anymore. Not with all that had happened. The months had given her a chance to breathe, to think and to accept the person she was and always had been. There was strength within that.

Still, despite all that all it took was one look at Evan and the witch knew that he could hold her whole world, grasp it oh so easily if only he tried. Emmeline couldn't even tell if she'd let him, or put up a fight. Simply because there was more to all of it. And then he pulled her closer, words drifting like an echo through the air. A chuckle as she herself swapped to a language that seemed as familiar as the breathe in her lungs. "You didn't let me go. You let go of a fantasy." Or so she believed. A part of her felt as though she'd changed in the months that lay behind them.

"And what are you going to do about that now? I'm not going anywhere." Those worlds held a warmth few others got to hear from the witch. Her eyes glanced up, her orbs scanning his. "So long as you want me around." She was more herself than ever before. And looking at Evan it seemed he'd found his path all the same. Did he truly think he had to apologize? "I forgive you." - @rsrevan

[rsrevan]

Evan Rosier was someone who'd always lived his life following steps strategically, taking careful though in each of his actions, measuring every word. There was nothing he did that didn't follow a precise purpose, until he met her. Slowly, unintentionally, deeply, she had irrupted in his life and changed everything he believed in-- she had proven him wrong even in the way he conceived himself. And even as he had tried to run away from the truth she held in her gaze, there had been no escape for it was pointless, she was a part of him. A part he did no longer feel like arguing but rather chose to accept. Vulnerability, honesty, emotions he did not believe proper or even his-- it was all there was when around her.

"We've got time to figure it out." He breathed out, certain that there was no rush and grateful for it, he did not want to make a rapid senseless decision. They each owned their own destiny and for now, he'd rather enjoy the easiness of the moments shared with her, however complicated they always were. A small grin pulled on his lips at her words, taking a careful hand to her cheek, running his thumb over it gently. Eyes locked with hers, the wizard dared ask. "My Emms, what is it that you want? Tell me and you shall have it."

[rsrevan]

Evan chuckled softly, letting his eyes follow her as she made her way toward the counter. He tilted his head, the corner of his lips curving in amusement. “Ah, a challenge then,” he said, voice low and steady, though a teasing note danced in it. “I do enjoy a good puzzle… especially one that comes with a smile like that.”

He fell into step beside her, careful to match her pace without crowding, letting the warmth of the moment linger. “Don’t worry,” he added, with the faintest shrug, “I’ll take my time figuring it out— wouldn’t want to spoil the fun.”

[florenceyaxley]

"I have a funny feeling you like a challenge," she hummed in response, his reply quickly solidifying that belief. She laughed at his compliment, that smile lighting up her face. "Oh, you are a flatterer, Evan Rosier," she mused.

Florence paid for the books, thanking the worker as they were placed in a bag and handed back to her. "Don't wait too long," she replied, pushing her hair back over her shoulder. "I could very easily get bored," she teased, stepping into the fireplace to floo to her next stop. "See you around," she called, fluttering her fingers in a wave.

[rsrevan]

END.

[lydiatravers]

The sight of Evan looking competent on a horse was far more attractive than she cared to admit. Good thing she'd already planned on rewarding him once they got to the forest. She mounted Baylor and urged him to a trot, grinning at him. "There's a grove a little ways in where I like to eat lunch or read."

Lydia led Baylor out of the paddock, pulling him to a stop several feet outside. "Come join me. Squeeze your legs and kick your heels into her side gently, and say 'hup!' That'll get her moving at a walk. When you want to trot, kick your heels in twice and click your tongue. It's going to be bumpy when she trots, you can stand up on your heels and that will help you move through it."

[rsrevan]

Evan shifted slightly in the saddle, feeling Nell move smoothly beneath him. He’d expected the horse to be difficult, unpredictable—but instead, she responded almost too easily to his touch. He let a small, controlled smirk play at his lips. He fell into step behind her as she led the way toward the grove, keeping his movements deliberate, hands steady, heels pressing lightly against Nell’s sides.

“Fun,” he said finally, his voice flat, dry, as if the joy of riding were the most tedious thing in the world— but the tone carried just enough edge to make her glance at him. He tilted his head slightly, watching her with quiet amusement. “All this… walking and trotting and horsing around. Riveting.” He let his eyes linger on her a beat longer than necessary, then leaned forward just a fraction, lowering his voice, almost a whisper. “But I think I’m ready for the next part.” And with that, he gave her a slow, deliberate wink— measured, confident, but carrying all the promise he didn’t need to say.

[florenceyaxley]

Florence laughed softly, giving him a pointed look. "I absolutely will not fall for recycled charm," she promised, holding the books loosely to her chest as she looked up at him.

"Oh, you can figure that out of your own," she replied, with a playful smirk and a shake of her head. She turned to walk towards the counter to buy the books in her hand though she had never really been much of a reader. "Or you can at least try," she challenged, flashing him a grin over her shoulder. Afterall, a girl never gave away her secrets quite that easily.

[rsrevan]

Evan chuckled softly, letting his eyes follow her as she made her way toward the counter. He tilted his head, the corner of his lips curving in amusement. “Ah, a challenge then,” he said, voice low and steady, though a teasing note danced in it. “I do enjoy a good puzzle… especially one that comes with a smile like that.”

He fell into step beside her, careful to match her pace without crowding, letting the warmth of the moment linger. “Don’t worry,” he added, with the faintest shrug, “I’ll take my time figuring it out— wouldn’t want to spoil the fun.”

[hcalingherbs]

Plenty of words came from her brother's mouth, most of which caused the witch to smile as she linked her arm with his. "Gladly. Whatever you say needs to be tried. Well, except the sugar moss apples." The blonde glanced over at him. "They seem a little too suspicious for my liking. I mean moss? I can't even tell if that's meant to summer or fall."

She loved spending time with her brother, loved festivals like this simply because she was so easily drawn in by the crowd. In moments like these Leta could forget that some of those around them were among the group that should not even have been around; those she still considered lesser than despite not outright clawing at them for their existence. She had her ways.

"Why is it we can only enjoy all of this for an evening?" Leta's eyes were focused on a stall to their left, little soft and pink candies stacked into piles before her attention focused on her brother. "I'd like to bring some home with me." - @rsrevan

[rsrevan]

Evan chuckled softly at her warning about the sugar moss apples, giving her arm a gentle squeeze as they walked. “Noted,” he said, voice low and amused. “We’ll leave the suspicious moss to the less discerning. But everything else? Fair game. I fully intend to make you sample more than your fair share before the night is through.”

He glanced ahead at the colorful stalls, taking in the twinkling lanterns and the bustle of the fayre. “And as for bringing things home… doubt I'll take it all home, if the night goes well,” he added with a sly tilt of his head, “I probably won’t be heading home at all.”

Falling into step beside her, he kept his tone soft, careful to leave her space, letting her lead the way. “So,” he said, amusement in his voice, “what are the chances of you taking someone home by the end of the night?”

[beckavery]

There was conflict happening between his eyes as they raked over Evan, seeing his friend in a different light that wasn't like the amber bar light over their heads. He knew if they moved forward, a friendship would be different. Beck's tongue swiped across his lips, leaning towards the edges of a wrong decision as he watched Evan's throat swallow his drink. "We would regret it," he said as if putting up an argument as he leaned closer enough to feel Evan's breath against his cheek. Beck was sure that the bartenders had seen something like this before at their counter and wouldn't blink in their direction. That was the confidence Beck put stock into as he leaned all the way forward, his lips latching onto a place on Evan's neck. His mouth left a line of hot kisses along the column of skin only leaning away when Evan asked a question. "The what?" he asked in confusion, breathing out a dark chuckle. "Am I going to find out?"

[rsrevan]

Evan’s grin deepened, sharp and wicked, as he let his eyes rake over Beck with deliberate slowness. “The Rosier method,” he purred, voice low and teasing, “is something you don’t just hear about —you experience. And I have a feeling you’re ready to find out.” He leaned in. “But… you think too much,” Evan added, a hint of challenge in his tone, “and I don’t have time for hesitation.” Without another word, he took Beck’s hand and led them both toward the exit, stepping into the darkness of the empty street. The night air wrapped around them like a private world, the city lights casting long shadows. Evan tilted his head, eyes glinting with mischief and command. “So… are you going to make me waste my time,” he asked, voice low and daring, “or are you actually going to take what you’ve been asking for?”

Before Beck could answer, Evan leaned in, stealing a deep, deliberate kiss from his friend’s lips —hungry, teasing, but nothing more. He pulled back just enough to let Beck catch his breath, the question and the heat lingering between them like a spark waiting to ignite.

[its-marymac]

where: end of summer fayre who: open to all

There was a lot of nostalgia in the air, but also sweets that were caked in sugar, beer sticking to the rims of people's glasses, and the sound of fun laughter. Mary was also happy that it was a great day to do some on-the-ground reporting with a mix of alumni and the community. "Excuse me, I'm here with the Daily Prophet today. Mind answering a couple of questions?"

[rsrevan]

Evan had lost his date for a moment, she'd gone to buy something or greet someone, he'd honestly not paid attention to the detail. He was waiting for her, though, nursing a drink that was definitely not as cold as he liked it. A frown creased his brows as he thought the fayre was getting rather boring when the witch approached him, his furrowed brows turning into a questioning expression. "A couple of questions? What exactly about?" He wondered, suddenly acknowledging the opportunity to make his afternoon more enjoyable.