#◐ every coin has two sides d.s. threads ◑

[thesocietyprince]

closed starter @miaxgallo // plaza bathroom

Devran thrived on structure—it was the foundation of everything he was today. Deviations from his meticulously laid plans? Unacceptable. Loose ends were the breeding ground for disaster. So, when Mia Gallo had the audacity to ignore his direct order not to speak to his people without his approval, frustration simmered beneath his composed exterior. He couldn’t let it slide. Their last encounter had left him restless. Mia wasn’t just a Serpents’ lawyer; she was sharper, more cunning than he’d anticipated, and he’d made the mistake of underestimating her once. It wouldn’t happen again. The gala buzzed with energy, the crowd eagerly awaiting a glimpse of the elusive hostess. But Devran’s attention was locked on Mia. The moment she slipped away, he excused himself from his date and followed her, his footsteps quiet as a predator stalking prey. She disappeared into the ladies’ room, and he didn’t hesitate, stepping inside unnoticed, locking the door behind him.

Devran moved with practiced ease, closing the distance between them until he was right behind her. He pressed in, crowding her, his breath ghosting against her neck as he inhaled deeply, his voice low and teasing. “We can’t keep meeting like this, prenses,” he murmured into her hair, the Turkish endearment laced with a dangerous softness. His hand traveled down, fingers grazing the bare skin of her thigh, his touch slow and deliberate. “You didn’t follow my instructions,” he continued, his tone darkening. “I didn’t realize I was dealing with a brat.” Devran’s teeth found her ear, nipping sharply as he pressed her harder against the wall. “Are you ready to find out what happens to bad girls?”

[thesocietyprince]

closed starter @derinxsahinreis // reyan & derin's home

The phone call from Derin was the last thing Devran expected. Their relationship had always been a storm—volatile, distant, full of unspoken words and old grudges. But hearing the raw fear in her voice had shaken him, urging him into action. Despite the animosity between them, despite the years of resentment, he would be there for her. She was family. "Derin," he called softly, his knuckles tapping lightly against the door. "It’s Devran."

[thesocietyprince]

closed starter @aylaxbinici // corner store near alya's apartment

It was no secret that Devran belonged to a particular echelon of society. The son of a wealthy magnate, owner of a prestigious country club, and a man who wouldn’t dare wear anything that wasn’t designer, he wasn’t the type you’d expect to find in a corner store. But today, necessity trumped appearances—he needed caffeine before his patience ran out and the beast in him surfaced. As he approached the shop, his sharp eyes caught sight of a young woman struggling with the door. Her leg was propped on one of those scooter contraptions meant for injuries, and every time she tried to nudge the door open, it swung back and clipped her. With a sigh that blended irritation and purpose, he stepped in. "Here, let me," he said smoothly, pulling the door open wide enough for her to pass without a hitch. His tone carried a hint of dry humor as he added, "Tragically, New Yorkers are often too wrapped up in themselves to notice." He wasn’t surprised no one else had helped. After all, this city wasn’t for the faint of heart.

[thesocietyprince]

closed starter @dilansahin // dilan's favorite luxury store

The luxury store sparkled with holiday cheer, golden lights and garlands draped over every surface like a scene from a Christmas movie. Devran adjusted his scarf and glanced at Dilan, who was already absorbed in the glittering displays. The air buzzed with the hum of shoppers and the soft, melodic notes of "Silver Bells" played on a piano somewhere in the distance. Shopping for Dilan’s Christmas present had become a tradition for Devran—practical and predictable. He’d let her wander, pick out whatever caught her eye, and then it would find its way under the tree on Christmas morning. It wasn’t about the surprise; it was about making sure she had something she genuinely wanted. He lingered a few steps behind, watching as she moved between displays, occasionally pausing to inspect something. "Those look like something you’d wear for one Instagram photo and then abandon in your closet," he teased, stepping closer. Devran smirked. He’d buy them for her in a heartbeat if she wanted, no matter how fleeting her interest might be. After all, seeing her happy was the real gift.

[thesocietyprince]

closed starter @moody-money // highest score

Words couldn’t capture the seething rage that burned through Devran. This wasn’t some random act—it was a calculated assault, one that required careful planning. His ally had betrayed him, and now, with Reyan injured—the one person who had always kept him grounded—Devran felt no need for restraint. He wasn’t here to play nice. He knew exactly where Donovan spent his time, and that’s why he arrived early at the arcade, slipping in without a hitch before the doors even opened. It's easy enough to find Donovan in the backroom. "Hello," Devran says, his tone dripping with false cheer. He delivers a punch to Donovan's face, sending him tumbling from his chair. Devran yanks him off the floor, jerking Donovan up by his t-shirt collar. A gun at the older man's temple appears before he has a chance to realize. "I don't like being made a fool of Donovan. Just give me a reason." He hisses, pushing the steel harder against his skull.

[thesocietyprince]

closed starter @miaxgallo // devran’s penthouse

Devran blinked awake, stretching in his California king bed. His Egyptian cotton bedsheets softly hugged his body as he rolled on his side. The bedside clock displayed 10 A.M. an out of character time for him to wake up. Turning his head, his dark eyes landed on Mia Gallo, lying tangled in his sheets, her hair spilling across his pillow like strands of gold. She was on her side, her face softened in sleep, utterly defenseless. For a brief moment, she didn’t look like the woman who had spent weeks testing his patience, his strength, his resolve. She didn’t look like the woman who stood on the opposite side of the fight, the one who had no business being here—especially not in his bed. He couldn’t understand how Mia Gallo of all people managed to sneak up on him, surprise him even. His jaw tightened, a rush of conflicting emotions surging through him. He shouldn't feel this way. He shouldn't feel the strange flutter in his chest, the warmth that spread as he watched the gentle rise and fall of her breathing. She was the enemy. Everything about her was a risk, a danger he couldn’t afford. and yet…

Devran exhaled quietly, running a hand through his hair as he sat up against the headboard. He wasn't sure when the spark between them had first ignited, but he felt it now, burning low and steady in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't just desire—though there was no denying that—but something else. Something far more dangerous. Fondness. Devran pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead, frustration clawing at him. What the hell are you doing? he thought bitterly. This wasn’t just reckless; it was suicidal. Mia wasn’t someone he could trust. She wasn’t someone he could let in. And yet she was here.

He didn’t know if last night had been a mistake or inevitability. Maybe it was both. He only knew that the line between them had blurred. And now, sitting there with her so close, he wasn’t sure if he could ever put that line back in place. Mia stirred beside him, her lashes fluttering as she began to wake. Devran felt his heart twist in his chest, a mix of anticipation and dread knotting in his stomach. Whatever this was, whatever they were… it couldn’t last. It shouldn't even exist.

[thesocietyprince]

closed starter @saccharinexvenom (luciano) // gala main room

Devran was eagerly anticipating the event for a variety of reasons. It was the perfect opportunity to mingle with New York’s elite, to showcase his generous side to the public, and, of course, to enjoy the lingerie fashion show. He made it a point to attend every year, and every year, he had a blast. There was something about the atmosphere that brought out his playful side, and he was never one to shy away from stirring up a little drama. When his eyes landed on Luciano De La Cruz across the room, a wicked thought curled into his mind. This was too good an opportunity to pass up. He made his way toward the man, his approach casual and confident, as though this were nothing more than a friendly encounter. "Mr. De La Cruz, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," Devran said, his smile smooth as he extended a hand, eyeing the group of attendees nearby who were doing their best to appear uninterested—though their eyes were fixed on the two men. "I just wanted to take a moment to thank you," Devran continued, his voice dripping with insincerity. “Gabriel has been such an incredible addition to my organization. I can honestly say, we wouldn't have him without your... help. So, thank you.” The glimmer of amusement in his eyes betrayed just how much he was enjoying this moment. Gabriel had told him that Luciano was likely reveling in his brother’s suffering, but Devran knew better. No, this wasn’t about Gabriel’s pain—it was about showing Luciano just how much his betrayal had cost him. And Devran intended to rub salt in that wound, twisting the knife with every word.

[thesocietyprince]

closed starter @dilansahin // gala main room

Devran held affection for very little in his life. In his line of work, attachments were liabilities, vulnerabilities that could be exploited. Strength came from detachment, from keeping others at a distance. Yet Dilan was the exception—the only one who had a permanent place in his guarded heart. Their father had made it clear when he died: Devran was to watch over her, to ensure she never became entangled in the world he and Devran inhabited. Their father told them he would be alive for a long time so Devran hasn’t taken over the full responsibility yet. Their father had wanted better for her, a life untouched by the shadows they lived in. Devran took that responsibility seriously. It was his unspoken vow, one he’d honor no matter what. As his sharp eyes scanned the crowd, they found her instantly. Even in a room full of people, Dilan stood out—a beacon of light in a sea of strangers. But tonight was no ordinary night, and he couldn’t afford any distractions. Plans needed to unfold perfectly, and as much as he adored his baby sister, her presence complicated things.

“Sevgili kız kardeşim, melek gibi görünüyorsun,” he greeted her in Turkish, his tone warm but his mind already calculating. He kissed both her cheeks in the way he always had, a mix of affection and tradition. “I trust you’re enjoying yourself. Mother would be so proud of you.” The mention of their mother was a deliberate choice, though it twisted something in his chest. Her loss had been a cruel blow, one they both still carried. Bringing her up was a low tactic, but Devran needed to keep Dilan occupied, to ensure her focus stayed far away from the undercurrents of the evening. Even if it meant stirring old grief, it was a price he was willing to pay to protect her.

Sevgili kız kardeşim, melek gibi görünüyorsun = Dear sister, you look like an angel

[thesocietyprince]

closed starter @betrayedandbrave // gala main room

Since their last conversation, Devran had been both surprised and thrilled to see how much Gabriel had changed. He used to think the younger man clung too tightly to his past with the Serpents, unable to let go of those relationships. Devran didn’t entirely understand the attachment, but he chalked it up to trauma—something Gabriel was clearly working through. Now, Gabriel had blossomed, becoming a committed and devout member of the Society. And Devran couldn’t help but feel a little pride, knowing he’d played a role in guiding him during his most vulnerable moments. Still, there were areas for improvement, as evidenced by Gabriel’s tie. “I would’ve thought you’d mastered tying a tie by now,” Devran said, almost instinctively reaching out to fix it. He had a near-obsessive dislike for anything out of place—it grated on his soul. Straightening the tie, he added, “I can’t have my people looking sloppy at an event like this. It messes with my image.” He winked, his tone hovering between teasing and serious. The Society was closely aligned with the upper class, and in their world, even a crooked tie could be ammunition for judgment. Devran preferred to avoid giving them anything to criticize, especially when it came to his team. “So,” he said, stepping back to inspect his work, “are you ready for this evening?”

[thesocietyprince]

closed starter @islasayala // alibi central bar

Youth was a perilous thing. It lured you into believing in illusions of freedom, of shirking duty in pursuit of fleeting desires like love and affection. But such things held no value when your future was tied to an empire. The man Devran had become would sneer at the boy he once was—a boy foolish enough to imagine he could walk away from it all for someone. She had been the love of his youth, a rare connection born from genuine affection and a shared enmity for a former friend. Isla. He hadn’t seen her in years, not since his father discovered his plan to leave. The lesson his father taught him about the cost of betrayal had been swift and brutal. Duty came first; there was no room for anything else. Devran never made it to the airport. Isla had waited, perhaps for hours, before realizing he wasn’t coming. He had few regrets in life, but leaving her like that—without a word, without closure—was among the coldest things he’d ever done. So when a friend casually invited him out, promising yet another setup, Devran was unprepared for the name that would stop him cold. Isla.

[thesocietyprince]

Devran watched Mia carefully, his dark eyes tracing every flicker of emotion across her face. She always had a way of deflecting, guarding herself with sarcasm and sharp edges, but he could see through the cracks. The too-quick denial, the reluctant way she softened into his touch—it all spoke louder than her words. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he shifted beside her, their fingers entwined. It was an odd kind of vulnerability, sharing this space with her, but it didn’t feel wrong. If anything, it felt like a moment stolen from a life he wasn’t sure he was allowed to have. “I don’t need to trap you, Mia,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a teasing warmth. “You walked in on your own. But if this is where you want to stay for a bit, I’m not complaining.” Her hand in his hair was soothing, grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected. He let his eyes close for a moment, taking in the unspoken truce between them. It wasn’t often that he let anyone see this side of him, but with Mia, it was different. Maybe because she already knew too much—or maybe because she was just as scarred as he was.

When Mia finally asked what had happened, her tone gentle but insistent, Devran sighed softly. His eyes met hers, a flicker of amusement breaking through the tension. "If you’re fishing for intel for your gang, you’re doing a pretty lousy job," he quipped, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. But the lightness in his tone didn’t fully mask the gravity of the situation. He leaned back slightly, his gaze steady as he continued. "We were in the middle of a Christmas meal. Then, as I’m sure you know, your brother, a few Serpents, and some Crimsons decided to liven things up by shooting at us. Several hurt, several dead. One kid had to watch her daddy get shot." His voice remained calm, but there was an edge beneath the words, a quiet anger simmering just below the surface. Devran’s dark eyes narrowed slightly as he added, "I imagine this wasn’t a complete surprise to you—or your organization." Though his words seemed casual, there was a sharpness to his question, a pointed curiosity as he probed for what Mia might know. He had a strong suspicion the attack had been a small-scale operation—more of a warning than an all-out war—but he wanted to hear her version of events, to see if she’d confirm what he already suspected.

Mia couldn’t help but question his security since she was so simply able to walk in. Did he have her face on some kind of list? That seemed unlikely, but Mia was sure how they just allowed a Gallo to get to his door with no one stopping her. If she hadn’t had such strong emotions about his not being shot, she could have easily shot him. “No.” Mia responded too quickly. She already was having a hard time coming to terms in her own mind that she had cared enough for him that the thought of him injured or dead had made her panic so much. “I just decided you don’t annoy me that much anymore and it’d be bad dealing with another leader who could be worse.” Mia retorted, but he’d see the real concern and relief in her gaze she silently showed him. Instinctively, Mia flinched away when he reached for her cheek, ready to fight him and the idea that she needed to be comforted or she was weak with emotions. She had too long of a history of reacting with her teeth barred against the world. But something in the gesture soothed her and was a balm against her anger. She slowly relaxed into his touch, leaning into it. “You can bleed like any other man though, I should know.” Mia’s gaze held the heavy reminder of their life. Though the wound had been surface level only, she still had made him bleed at their first meeting. “He was shot.” Mia sighed as he took her hand in his, her fingers intertwining. It was easier to think of Reyan Reis as the enemy, easier to accept his injuries.

Before she could protest, he was leading her to his bedroom. Mia fell into the bed, her lips only opening to protest as her body crashed into the pillows and he soon joined her. His weight wasn’t crushing and Mia shifted only enough for them to get comfortable in this position. “Is this how you plan to trap me here?” Mia asked, her voice taking on the same teasing tone. She shouldn’t even be here, and perhaps the smartest thing would have been to leave the second she saw he was unharmed. But there was so merit in not turning right around and risking drawing attention. One hand rose to gently start combing through his hair while the other found his hand and intertwined their fingers once more. “What happened in there tonight?” She finally asked, her voice gentle but serious.

[thesocietyprince]

closed starter @jaydensrsly // gala main hall

Alliance unity was a core principle for Devran. He believed that to lead effectively, he needed to understand everything about the people he allied with—who they were, what mattered to them, what skills they brought to the table. Knowledge was power, and the more he knew, the better he could leverage their strengths. Of all his alliances, the one with the Ghost Riders was by far his most prized. The Syndicate was elite and calculating, the Crimsons had a ruthless skill set that commanded respect, but the Ghost Riders? Their loyalty was unparalleled. Not necessarily to him, but the depth of their commitment was close enough to make him feel secure. Jayden, in particular, had caught his attention. A jack of all trades with a mind as sharp as a blade, he was someone Devran wanted to learn more about. “Why haven’t we met yet?” Devran asked, leaning in with a smirk, the wine glasses between them serving as a subtle barrier. "I’m afraid I’m still getting acquainted with all the big players in the Ghost Riders. Jayden, was it?" His voice was casual, but the interest was clear—he wasn’t just making conversation. He wanted to know exactly who Jayden was.

[thesocietyprince]

closed starter @jaydensrsly // community center

The community center buzzed with energy as volunteers bustled between tables piled high with coats, scarves, and gloves. Families streamed in, their chatter blending with the hum of holiday music playing softly in the background. Amid the festive chaos stood Devran, effortlessly striking in a tailored navy overcoat that sharply contrasted with the red velvet Santa hat perched atop his meticulously styled hair. The hat might have been playful, but his commanding presence made it seem almost intentional, a seamless blend of charisma and holiday cheer. This was the Sahins’ annual tradition—giving back during the holidays, both through donations and hands-on efforts. It wasn’t Devran’s idea of an ideal way to spend the season, but he knew how much goodwill it generated for the family name. Still, there was a surprising sense of fulfillment when he handed a fleece jacket to a little boy, the child’s wide smile warming him more than he expected. As Devran grabbed another box of donations, a familiar face caught his eye in the crowd. His lips curved into a grin as he called out, “Take a good look while you can. This is the closest you’re getting to Sexy Santa.” He chuckled, shaking his head as he turned back to his work, the red hat bobbing slightly as he moved. For a moment, the holiday spirit didn’t feel so forced after all.

[thesocietyprince]

closed starter @jasonmacavoy // ghost rider clubhouse

The hum of conversation in the dimly lit clubhouse faltered when Devran walked in, his polished suit and crisp tie standing out starkly against the leather jackets and tattered jeans. Devran wasn't about to dress down to meet with his ally. He adjusted his cufflinks with deliberate precision, his sharp gaze sweeping the room until it landed on a familiar face. Jason, leaning casually against a pool table. He'd heard of the leader's recovery, and needed to see both him and his stand in. "I need to see Zak, or Oxana. It's important."

[thesocietyprince]

Devran’s jaw tightened as Derin’s words sliced through him, each one landing with more weight than she probably realized. The tension between them was palpable—years of unresolved anger, the silent battles they fought under their father’s oppressive rule, all of it hanging thick in the air like a storm ready to break. His hands balled into fists at his sides, but he forced himself to remain still, to keep his voice steady, to be the older brother, the one who had to shoulder the responsibility, even if every part of him wanted to snap. "Derin," he started, his voice rough, a strained calm in his tone, like he was trying to keep it together. "You think I don’t get it? That I don’t feel every damn thing you're saying?" He met her gaze, anger and hurt flaring beneath his calm exterior. "I’m not some hero, Derin. I never asked for any of this. And believe me, I know what it's like to fight this, but I don’t sit around and cry about it. I keep moving." He inhaled deeply, forcing his words to stay controlled. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. They weren’t supposed to be here, fighting like this. But no matter how many times he tried, no matter how hard he worked to reach her, it felt like she was slipping further away. Her shrug hit him harder than any of her words, a cold dismissal that felt like a slap to the face. He tried to push it down, but it stung more than he was willing to admit. “Fine,” he said, voice low, tight with frustration. “Stay out of it. If you’d rather watch everything burn, then I guess you’ll have to deal with the fallout. Because no matter how much you want to pretend you’re not part of this, you are. We’re all in this, whether you like it or not.” He exhaled sharply, the frustration leaking into his voice. "You think I want to be stuck in this mess? Cleaning up every mistake, fixing every problem that’s never mine to fix? You think this is easy for me?" His voice tightened. "I don’t expect you to understand, Derin. I don’t even expect you to see that I’m trying." He stared at her, frustration and exhaustion in every line of his face. "But don’t think for one second I’m doing this for me. I’m doing this for you. For us, for everyone. And if you can’t see that—if you can’t see how much I’ve been trying to keep us both from falling apart—then maybe you don’t know me at all."

"Years of practice finally paying off. Maybe you'll actually hear what I'm saying for once." but she had no hope in that. "Not any sharper than I was, the words only cut if they have meaning to you." Maybe if they drew blood he would understand why she was so angry with him.

"My choices? My choices to go to college? Study what I wanted? To have dreams? The only choice I made that got me in this position was to fight back and not take it like a little bitch like you." He was too scared to stand up to their father for himself and again when her fate also fell into the loop. "Neither of us asked for this. We didn't ask to be born into this family." She rolled his eyes at his words like that made it any better. "No, you could have stood up for me! You could have fought for me. But you didn't. But you must feel like some hero that I'm not getting beat for when I open my snarky mouth. Because we all knew that was going to happen with the first guy." The fiance she had killed. "Yeah kinda. Not going to lie." She shrugged. "I have no real attachment to any of this. It could all go away in a flash and I'd only feel relief. And unfortunately, I'm basically useless for your little crusade or whatever is going on here. Probably just more of a distraction for my poor husband having to split his attention trying to keep me in line. Maybe you should take your own advice and stop throwing a tantrum and fix whatever conflict you created rather than insight a war"

[thesocietyprince]

closed starter @kaiapierce // gala bar area

Devran had always adored galas. There was something intoxicating about the spectacle of it all—the extravagant outfits, the subtle competition to outshine one another, and the undeniable irony of the wealthy playing at benevolence for a single night. This was no different: a charity gala, where fortunes were flaunted under the guise of philanthropy. He’d been attending this particular event for years, and every year, his mission remained the same—to find the perfect companion for the evening.

His sharp eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on her—a striking figure, standing alone at the bar. She wore a red dress that demanded attention, her elegance and allure impossible to ignore. Devran’s lips curved into a slow, predatory smile. The night had just gotten a lot more interesting. He approached with measured steps, stopping just beside her at the bar. “You look like someone with a story worth hearing,” he began, his voice smooth and unhurried as he leaned casually against the counter. “Mind sharing one over a drink?” His smile deepened, the kind that balanced charm and sincerity, the one he reserved for moments like this. “I’m Devran. I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting yet, and I’d like to remedy that.”