#masquerade mingle

[monsieurdetalleyrand]

It is with a boar mask that Talleyrand chose to attend this mysterious ball. A curious choice of animal that does not seem, on the surface, to match his personality — aggressive temperament, close to the ground, the ugliest creature of God on this Earth once out of childhood. But despite all those flaws, the boar was also the coat of arms' emblem of his beloved principalty: the Bénévent, which he had received from Napoleon and whose title he always seemed to claim in this afterlife. His outfit, as well, was chosen with great care as always: scrupulously following the whims of current fashion, elegant enough to bear witness to his rank but not too extravagant in order to go unnoticed among this crowd of people where he could not discern a familiar face. With a pensive step, he heads for the table of refreshments.

Everyone knows that he is a lover of good wines, and a fine connoisseur of the delights of the table, yet his glass remains strangely empty. His pale eyes wander the table with a curious interest that gradually turns into disappointment, as he realizes that the Bordeaux wine, too strong in taste and yet enjoying an inexplicable popularity, has ended up supplanting the Côtes-du-Rhône until it disappeared from the menu. Many exotic drinks are also offered but he remains deeply attached to the charm of tradition and to his old habits.

This wine story offends him much more than the strange scene that unfolds before his eyes, this person with the octopus mask binge eating until choking. Talleyrand’s face is torn by a grimace at this incongruous vision, half annoyed by this blatant lack of good manners and half-amused. Clearly, the strict Court etiquette he had known in the past had not survived the test of time.

He feels like he recognizes some voices but for now, he is unable to put names on these masked faces.

He ends up sitting in an elegant way, next to that bat-spider-boy who seems to have some kind of aristocratic vibes. Of course, he does not suspect that it is Napoleon Bonaparte himself but it was a negligence on his part: he should have recognized him immediately at his size.

“I guess I’ll follow Monsieur and have an Armagnac too, since it’s too much to ask for real wine around here.”

He sighs dramatically, dusting an invisible dust on his sleeve.

The Refreshments

While the tables are filled with drinks and food, there is one particular corner of the room that has taken inspiration from modern times in a very specific way.

Welcome to the Open Bar, where a relaxed looking man in a grey cuckoo mask and a dark green suit is serving drinks.

"Welcome, folks, to this lil' slice of heaven.

We've got fine wines here- Bordeaux, Burgundy, that sweet Sauternes stuff. For those with a taste for the stronger stuff, there's Armagnac, Cognac, and that green fairy called Absinthe.

Feeling adventurous? Try some rum from the colonies or whisky from those Scots. Got what those Americans call 'cocktails' and 'mocktails' for those who don't want to end up like poor Coco. And we've rustled up some cider and beer, too.

Just don't tell the Emperor we're servin' anything not made in France, ya hear?"

Nearby, a man in a giraffe mask is watching with fascination as a grinning androgynous shadowy figure in an octopus mask fits an increasing number of canapés in their toothy mouth. Both of these two are wearing yellow and blue suits.

"That is way too much," says the cuckoo-masked bartender.

"On the contrary, I'm rather envious!" says the giraffe-masked man.

Feel free to respond to this thread, chat to the bartender or the two weirdos, chat among yourselves, order drinks and just relax here.

Or, you can go back to the entrance, go mingle with people, check out the table groaning under the weight of a bunch of presents or look at the diversions table.

[simgerale]

CHAPTER ONE ; 2/3

TRANSCRIPT

magdalena: The last point of interest I wished to discuss with you all is the Assembly. We have not hosted the gathering since you three were babes, so your father and I expect each of you to put your best foot forward.

luca: Yes, especially since we are relying on a few important trade deals this time around. No pretending to be a footman and hiding carriages. No avoiding interactions by saying that you feel faint. And no more than two glasses of mead.

m: I believe that is everything…. oh! We decided that the reception will be a masquerade ball, so you will need to acquire a mask within the week.

dara: …A masquerade?

l: We have not hosted a ball like that since your mother and I first met, you know.

d: Precisely, Papa. They are entirely outdated.

killian: I think it is a grand idea. Anonymity. For once, no one will be trying to kiss my feet. Thank the maker.

m: Only for a short while. We will need to welcome the guests as a family, of course. You will have an hour to mingle before then.

l: Use it wisely.

gregor: [sighs] If I am only allowed two glasses of mead, then that is when I will be indulging myself.

[gctchell]

So far for the 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖉𝖊, it appears that ..

𝒩𝒾𝒻𝒻𝓉𝓎 is going with @wonderful-balan's D'Zuko, her best friend who she will absolutely not be chaotic with.

𝕷𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖍 is going with @damnedrainbows's Lucifer (once he recovers from falling from a tree, bc ouch).

𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓪 is going with @arachnaemboss, because of course.

Since there can be multiple escorts, feel free to ask 'em if you're interested. :] I will be pinging you and invading your ask box throughout the Event tho, so be warned lol.

[writingsbychlo]

LOSE YOUR INHIBITIONS

mattheo riddle & theodore nott | 8.1k

your boyfriend thought it would be fun to play a game of hide and seek only knowing one another's costumes. neither of you anticipated the mix-up of someone else wearing the same mask, or the thrilling events that follow.

note: happy hallowe'en, angels! you knew me and @theostrophywife would never leave you hanging on this special day, right? enjoy xo

Accepting the shot presented to you at the door, Fred Weasley delivered the vial with a charming grin. With a flick of his wrist, the door to the Gryffindor common room opened, letting the sounds of the party spill out from within. It was raging already, though this was no surprise, as the parties the twins threw had always been legendary. 

Swirling the sparkling liquid around inside the tube, it flickered in iridescent shades as the flashing lights from within rippled through it, and a smirk tugged on your painted lips. It smelled like sugared cherries and vanilla, a mouthwatering and tempting combination. Bringing it to your lips, you let the flavour wash over you, like silk as it ran down your throat dangerously smoothly. 

This party had been all anyone could talk about for the past two weeks, since the infamous Weasley pair had finally revealed the theme for this year's Hallowe’en bash. A masquerade party, hence the broken doll makeup that covered the right side of your face, but that hadn't been enough to satisfy the pair. No, rather than stop there, they’d gone on to craft themselves a potion of their own imagining, one that began to leave the edges of your vision blurring in a perfect kind of haze, and you placed the empty tube back down onto the tray in his hand. 

“How’s it feel?” Fred grinned, red hair shining under the low lights as you blinked away the fuzziness in the edges of your vision. It was then, as you stared a moment longer, that the recognition of a face you’d known for almost a decade slipped your mind entirely. 

“Oh… wow.”

“Recognise me?” He chuckled, handing a couple of vials to a group of giggling girls who passed you by, none of whom you now found you could place the identity of. Even the timbre of his voice sounded distorted and different as you processed it, knowing what he normally sounded like. 

“I only know it’s you because… well, because we've been talking. I have no idea who just walked past.” You murmured, a pleasant tingling spreading through your body, slipping away any anxieties and worries. Only warmth and excitement were left in its wake. 

“Didn’t we tell you to arrive with your friends, hm? Good luck finding anyone in there.” Fred tutted teasingly, motioning for you to go inside, and you hummed your acknowledgement as you walked into the party. 

The floors vibrated under your feet, making you wonder just how many other students they’d had to coerce into helping cast the charms keeping this party a secret from the professors. Enchanted lights refracted and bounced around the expanded common room space, changing colours and leaving patterns streaking the darkened atmosphere.

Upon entering the main room, the heavy base of the music shook you so hard it rocked all the way up into your stomach with every step you took, and bodies filled every space in the room. Dancing, talking, laughing, playing games, drinking. They’d thought of it all, and you made your way slowly over to the drinks table to fill yourself up a cup with the spiced elf wine you were so fond of this time of year. 

Some people milled around in groups, clinging to those whose identities they knew, while others boldly adventured and mingled in the freedom of anonymity. With a cursory glance across the crowds, all of the faces and voices around you blurred away before you could properly identify them. People you’d known for years were strangers to you for the night, and the spike of adrenaline it caused felt light lightning. 

With a twist in your stomach, and another gulp of wine, the music beat as your feet guided you through the throngs of people, beginning the search for a familiar mask. 

Mattheo hadn't told you when he’d arrive, only that it would be after you. 

Originally planning to arrive together, your boyfriend had thought it all the more amusing to turn the night into a thrilling game for the pair of you. You were only given the knowledge of what his mask looked like; something he’d picked up at a Muggle costume store to ensure nobody else would be wearing the same thing.

The black and white details were burned into your mind, and yet, every face you passed wasn’t what you were looking for. After completing your first lap of the party, you’d found yourself situated in a new corner. With a heady mixture of wine and adrenaline buzzing through your bloodstream, you tapped your fingers against your thigh in anticipation.

The second lap you took of the room resulted in much the same way. Though, this time, it had certainly taken longer. The dance floor had long since been overflowed, the groups, couples and solo dancers for the night had spilt out to fill almost half of the room. Grinding, swaying, twirling, you’d become caught up with different people at least three times, as the atmosphere of the party swept you away. Laughing, flushed cheeks, you finally stumbled from the masses and back into the rest of the room. 

More people had arrived since you had first started the hunt of your game, and you had no doubt now that he was in here somewhere, waiting for you to find him. No mask fit, no costume was right, and you’d done almost three laps of the room before you spotted him. 

Hours had melted by, you were sure of it, but suddenly it all felt like nothing as you spotted the masked man standing across the room. 

Tall, dressed impeccably in all black, and breathing out smoke from under the edge of the mask as he passed a cigarette around the group of boys he was standing with. His head tipped back as he laughed, and as you saw the mask you had memorised, you were sure of it. 

Slipping over, you made sure to skirt around the edges of the group, delighting in the squeal you involuntarily let loose when his head turned in your direction. Though you couldn't see his eyes beneath the mask, you could feel his sights locked onto your own, and for a moment, it felt like the breath was trapped in your lungs. 

Tall, imposing, terrifying. You bit your lip, waving your fingers at him, and watching his lips twist into a smirk, before he was handing off the cigarette in his hands, and waving back. Crooking a finger to beckon him closer, those long legs carried him until he stood before you, the smell of smoke and spiced whiskey rolling off of him and covering your senses. 

“Well, hello there.” You whispered, hands reaching out to settle on his arms as you took a small step forward. Trailing your hands along his sleeves, your fingers brushed against the embroidery on his cuff, and your smile widened at confirmation under your fingertips of the sewing you’d put there.

“Hello, doll.” He mused, humoured by his own joke, and you rolled your eyes gently, taking his hands in your own, and tugging him towards the dance floor. 

“Come on, I’ve been waiting all evening to dance.”

“Have you now?” He rolled his lower lip through his teeth, watching your hips move as you led him to a space you’d be able to occupy enough to move amongst the bodies. “And what have you been waiting for?”

“The right partner, of course.” Happy with the spot you’d found, you looped your arms around his neck, stepping into your boyfriend’s space a lot more, and his hands slid down your sides to settle on your hips. “Glad I finally found you.”

“Found me, indeed.” He mumbled, his forehead coming down to rest on your own, and a happy sigh slipped from your lips. You couldn't see much beyond the black-out eyes of the mask, but it didn’t matter. You didn’t need to, instead, you turned your back to him and pressed yourself into his chest, pulling his arms around you in the same way you always did. 

Swaying together in harmony, your head rolled back to sit on his shoulder, the words to the songs happily flowing from your lips as your hips ground against your boyfriend’s. Hands wandered, weak groans and ghosts of his breath along your neck were exchanged for your giggles. 

Where one game ended, a new one arose, a game of push and pull as you danced together. Pressing your arse back into his crotch, he returned the force, the outline of him pressing through his jeans to display his interest, and his arms tightened around you. 

“You’re confident, hm?” He teased, both hands dropping to your thighs, nails skating over your skin in a new and delicious way that made you shiver. When he reached the edge of your dress, his fingertips barely dipped below, before opting to toy with the fabric instead and slip away. 

“You love it.” Came your response, guiding one of his hands a little further up your body, skimming it over your breast tantalisingly before bringing your joined hands up, raised in the air to sway to the song. His laughter was warm and contagious, and time seemed to melt away once again as you sank into his embrace. 

At some point, he had tugged up the edge of his mask, his mouth descending upon your neck to kiss and lick and bite, drawing moans and whimpers from your lips. When dancing had grown tiresome for you both, you’d slipped back to the drinks table, laughing your way through a shot of Gigglewater each, before finding your way to one of the more secluded couches in the darker corners of the room. 

Now, your mouth was on his neck, marking his skin with red lipstick prints as one of his hands continued to grip your hips, allowing you to roll your core ever so slowly over the growing bulge in the front of his jeans. His other hand was splayed across one of your breasts, squeezing slowly as he panted, pulse racing under your lips. 

“(Y/n)?” A voice broke you from your reverie, and you nibbled on the sweet spot on his neck. 

“Yeah, Matty?” You whispered, believing the call to have come from the man underneath you. However, when he stiffened, so suddenly and harshly it was like he’d turned to stone, you pulled back. Your brows furrowed, you couldn't see what was wrong with his mask on, and you were reaching to remove it when you became aware of the other figure, standing behind the couch. 

With a gasp as you observed his almost identical attire, your heart felt for a moment like it stopped beating. In what you were sure would’ve looked almost comical in any other situation, you looked dumbly between the two matching masks. 

A soberingly cold bolt of shock sliced through you as you looked up, finding another tall, impeccably-clad man in all black standing behind the couch on which you were currently straddling Mattheo on. Or, thought you were, but now, as you took in the identical mask on his face, doubt began to creep in. The second man crossed his arms, legs widening in eerily familiar body language.

A sick feeling twisted in your stomach as you pulled back, pushing the man beneath you away by his shoulders. His neck was shining from the hickeys you had been enthusiastically marking his neck with. No matter how hard you tried, however, you couldn't place the features of either, recognition dancing just out of reach within your mind, and you let slip a frustrated growl. 

“Matty?” You whispered, and the man underneath you somehow stiffened further, a feat you’d thought impossible, as the one standing squared his shoulders and seemed to grow angrier through stance alone. 

“That would be me, sweetheart.” The one standing ground out through his teeth, voice so cold it made you feel like the temperature in the room had dropped. Springing up from the couch, you shook your head, feeling as though the whole world had just been tipped upside down. You had no chance to process it, as the intruder voiced the question also on your mind, “What the fuck is going on?”

“I found you! I found the mask!” An uncomfortable feeling raced through your body, heart pounding in your chest. As you rubbed at the place it thumped so hard, trying to escape, he seemed to soften a little. “I was so sure! Fuck, this stupid game—” 

The flashing lights were too much, the noise and the people and the complete lack of awareness were all too much, and you stumbled for the exit. The moment you were out of the party and alone in the corridors, it was like you could breathe again. Gasping cold breaths into your lungs, you found yourself in silence, the charms working perfectly to contain the secrecy of the party, the only noise was your heaving breaths and the sound of your heart pumping. 

Pressing your back into the cool stone of the wall, you tugged off the mask on your face, shaky fingers dropping it to the ground as the balls of your hands pressed to your eyes, just trying to think. 

Then, like a whoosh of warmth and a burst in the tranquillity of the corridor, a body slammed into the stone beside you, a groan slipping free as the breath left his lungs. The mask was still on his face, covering his identity, not that you’d be able to tell who it was even if it was gone, but you could recognise Mattheo by default now. He’d taken off his mask, his features swimming just outside of your consciousness like in a dream, but those flattened curls, and the chain around his neck, it was no doubt. 

“Someone better start explaining what the fuck is going on.” Mattheo hissed, brown eyes growing a little more familiar the longer you looked at them, filled with both rage and vulnerability. 

“I-I was so sure, Matty! I checked the sleeve and everything, I’m sorry.” The man whom you now knew to be your boyfriend was wearing a black t-shirt only, and you fumbled for the stranger’s sleeve, tugging the left one forward and tracing your finger over the embroidered initials that you had sewn into every shirt, jumper and tee he owned. 

Mattheo gripped the stranger's wrist in a far tighter hold than you had, yanking him forward to inspect the markings on the sleeve, and silent confusion settled between the three of you. Seconds ticked past in what felt more like hours, and then, Mattheo groaned in frustration, dropping the man’s wrist and raking his hand through his curls instead. He turned, kicking the wall on the opposite side of the corridor. 

“Fucking potion, I don’t even know who the fuck you are! You’ve got my sweater, I mean, what is this, a set-up?” With a swing, his open palm slammed down on the rock on the side of the stranger’s head, Mattheo’s unfamiliar features close enough to the stranger that he’d smell the whiskey on your boyfriend’s breath. “What to do with you now, huh? When I kick the shit out of you for kissing my girlfriend, I want to know exactly who I’m hitting.”

“I’ll tell you.” The stranger croaked, and Mattheo let out a dry laugh as he backed away. 

“And I’m supposed to just trust you, huh?”

You swallowed thickly, fingers gripping your ribs as your arms wrapped around yourself, unprepared for the answer, whether it was the truth or not. More silence ticked by, so many moments that your skin pebbled with goosebumps in the chill, and you rubbed your arms for warmth in the cold castle corridors. 

Eventually, the stranger balled his shaking hands, and cursed under his breath in a language you recognised immediately. Italian. Your next inhale caught painfully in your throat as realisation struck before he’d even begun to speak. “I’m sorry, Matt. I didn’t mean for this or happen. I—”

Shoes scuffled against the floor, and then Mattheo had him by the collar of his sweater, backed to the wall once again as his fist reared back for the swing—

“It’s Theo!”

Mattheo’s punch halted, the impact of stopping so suddenly rippling along his body, and his tension faltered. “You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie?” He implored, tugging off his mask at last, to reveal the same blurred, dreamlike features, but a recognisable head of golden-brown hair. “I can explain, I swear. Can you just put your fist down for a second?”

Reaching out, he placed a hand over Mattheo’s, lowering it slowly, and you crept forward to wrap your own hands around Mattheo’s, sliding his fist open to slip your fingers between his. He squeezed back fiercely, angrily. But, then, he lifted your hand up to his mouth, and kissed the back of your hand in a gesture you knew so well, all while glaring at ‘Theo’. 

“Look, I didn’t have a costume. It’s stupid, I wasn’t planning on coming to the party at all, but I changed my mind.” With another nervous breath, you rubbed your thumb over Mattheo’s, feeling him tense and release over and over again as bursts of anger shot through him. “You were in the shower and your mask was hanging on the back of the door, so I just used a Geminio on yours. I grabbed the first pair of black jeans and a sweater I could find, I didn’t think you’d mind, we share clothes all the time! I’m sorry.”

Mattheo took a deep breath and another. And another. 

His head tipped back to stare at the ceiling, and blue eyes that ticked at being familiar found yours, “I’m sorry, bella. I didn’t mean for all this to happen. I figured you two would show up together, and…”

“It was a game.” You finally croaked out, voice sore from holding back tears. “It was just a stupid game, I thought I found Matty but it was you.”

“I should’ve asked for your name. But, the potion and my inhibitions…”

“How does this even happen, Theo? Are you such a slut you were just letting a girl grind on you when you didn’t even know her name?” Mattheo jabbed, but the heat of rage was gone from his words, and instead lingered a desperation for some kind of explanation.

“Yes, apparently, I am!” Theo slapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late now. The potion, the weed, the whiskey, it was all mixing, and Theo had always been a chatterbox when intoxicated. “Cazzo, she’s so fucking hot, mate! I didn’t want to stop and ask questions, I just wanted to get my hands on her and—” His words disintegrated into a gurgled choke as Mattheo once again pinned him to the wall, this time with a hand on his throat. 

His fingers flexed, and with a ragged swear he released the grip he had on Theo, allowing him to speak once again.

“Mattheo, you have to let me go.”

“Why?” Your boyfriend demanded, even as his hand loosened a fraction more. No matter how angry he was, you all knew he was incapable of hurting Theo. Mattheo would sooner injure himself than someone he loved, and Theo fell squarely into that category. “Why should I?”

“Because you’re not going to hurt me, we both know that,” Theo said gently, and Mattheo growled in a threat that scared nobody. “It’s not our fault. We were laced with a potion, a potion that is still very much in my system and blurring my boundaries. I was already hard as fuck, and this is really turning me on. Please let me go before this gets any more embarrassing for all of us.”

Your eyes widened, much like Mattheo’s, and Theo smirked a little at the shock he’d managed to inflict. “What?”

“Merde, since it’s clear that I’m not getting fucked tonight, and blue balls are setting in, could you kindly let me go, before I cream myself from your choking, Mattheo?” Theo hissed, his fingers wrapping around the wrist of the hand now merely sitting like a warm presence on his throat. 

Mattheo considered it for a second, two, three. A whole new kind of tension lingered in the air, and his hand slipped down from Theo’s throat to his shoulder instead. He turned to look at you, his gaze finding your own, a questioning heat swirling in them that you knew all too well. Mattheo wanted it. That kind of burning desire was something you were intimately familiar with, as was his secret wish to fuck his best friend. He’d wanted it long since before the two of you had gotten together, and he’d confided it in you early on. You’d discussed the possibility before, sure, but Theo had never been unattached, or the timing had never been right. You’d never dared cross such a line before. Now, the line was all but obliterated anyway, might as well proceed without caution. 

With a small nod, excitement lit up Mattheo’s face in replacement of dark anger.

“Who says you’re not getting fucked?”

It was Theo’s turn to be speechless, that smirk melting off of his face as he gaped instead. With all the elegance and eloquence you knew him to possess, he uttered a simple, “Huh?”

Turning back to you, Mattheo slipped a hand over your eyes, while pressing a kiss to your cheek. He muttered a few Geminio’s, and when he removed his hand, both of them had their masks back on, and matching attire now. In identical tees and jeans, right down to the boots and gloves, they looked the same. Your heart skipped a beat, and your throat bobbed with anticipation.

“Can you tell who’s who?” One of them asked, their voice unrecognisable once again, and without the simple features you’d clung to for identity, your lips parted. On a trembling, excited breath, you shook your head. 

“No. I can’t.”

“Good.” With that, a hand slipped into each of your own, a tug within your stomach telling you that someone had apparated the three of you, because when you blinked next, you were in the boys’ dorm. The latch on the door flicked locked with a quiet spell, and the needle on the record player lowered to begin crooning one of Mattheo’s favourite albums for these kinds of moments. 

You looked between them both, a twisted glee at having no idea who was who. One of them reached a hand out, brushing cold fingers along your cheek, and you leaned into his touch, peering into the dark spaces of the mask hiding his eyes. 

“I think this moment deserves a picture, don’t you?” One of them whispered, head tipping to the other, and a condescending and arousing chuckle made you shudder with anticipation. In a flurry of moving hands and bodies, you found yourself kneeling before the full-length mirror in the room, both of the masked men standing behind you. One had your hair twisted around his hand loosely, as the other held the camera. 

Click. 

“So pretty.” Came a quiet mumble, you weren’t even sure which man said it, but it made you flush and smile nonetheless. Untwisting his hand from your hair, he offered it to you instead, your fingers settling over his own as he helped you back to your feet. With a small tug, you were tumbling into his body, a gasp leaving you as your back settled on his chest.

The next photo came as you stood, your head rolled back onto a shoulder, and your dress pulled down to bunch around your waist, leaving your breasts and lacy bra on show. Large hands covered your tits, squeezing appreciatively as your vision spotted from the flash of the little Polaroid once again. 

Click. 

“Guess who?” The voice purred beside your ear, those hands moving to your hips, your thighs, tracing your body as though a new wonder before him. 

“Theo?” You whispered, tipping your head to come face to face with the mask. 

“Wrong.” The one holding the camera said, and a whimper slipped from your throat as Mattheo slapped your arse with just the kind of punishing pressure he knew so well. Biting down on your lip, you let them readjust you, slipping your eyes closed as you stood in the centre of the room. Someone tugged your dress the rest of the way down, someone held your hips as you slipped out of your heels, and then someone was flicking open the catch on your bra, until you were stood naked in the centre of the room. 

For a long moment, nobody touched you at all, and your nerves skittered at the thrill, breath catching in your throat.

Then, warm hands without the leather gloves now were on your body. Behind you, their breath on your neck, hands skimming up your arms lightly, and you gasped. You understood the game they wanted to play.

“Theo?” You whispered, sure you’d guessed correctly this time, with the reverent and cautious touch it seemed to be. The sharp sting of a hand coming down across your arse proved you wrong. 

“Nope.”

The figure stepped away from you, and your fingers twitched to reach out, your lips pulling in a grin as you waited for the next set of hands to come. When they did, it was without hesitation, two large hands closing over the top of your bra, and taking an appreciative squeeze. 

The force with which he grabbed you pulled you back into his chest, and you chuckled, tipping your head until you could feel the beat of his heart against you. 

“Theo.”

You were certain of that, getting a rumbling him against your back, and a kiss to your shoulder blades as he backed away, confirming your choice. 

The next touch was on your stomach, knuckles skimming in a featherlight touch over your skin, circling your navel, before fingertips traced the top of your panties. Snapping the elastic against your skin, he drew a breathy moan from you. “Matty.”

“Wrong.” His words were punctuated with a slap, your legs shaking with the impact, and you clenched your thighs together, forcing your eyes to stay closed no matter how much you wanted to open them. The camera never stopped clicking, observing you and recording you in the moment of erotic vulnerability.

A handful of tense moments passed this time, you were sure they were communicating something outside of your knowledge. There seemed to be no order or system to their touches, nothing you could latch onto, leaving you completely in the dark, and it was thrilling. 

A light touch traced its way up the inside of your thighs, a contrast to the foot that roughly kicked the insides of your feet, forcing your thighs to open wider. The other hand was on your back, tracing your spine until he pushed between your shoulders forcing you to bend. And as you did, those same fingers traced your cunt through your underwear, drawing an impatient whine from you as you were forced to keep waiting. “Teddy?”

“Wrong again,” Came Mattheo’s amused voice, and this time, you didn’t get a spank across your arse, but instead, a pinch to your clit that made your entire body jerk. 

“That was Mattheo.” You squeaked, familiar with his antics and the way he touched your body, and a face in front of you laughed. Cracking your eyes open to peer at someone so familiar and yet so unfamiliar at the same time, he smirked at you. 

“That was an obvious one.”

“Mhm.” Licking across your lower lip, you pushed forward, eager to close the distance and kiss your boyfriend for the first time tonight. He let you, his mouth sealing against your own in comforting familiarity, his hands holding your jaw as he straightened you back up.

His tongue played with your own while he guided you backwards until he was lowering you onto the bed, his knee between your thighs to grind on, pressing against your aching core and giving you the relief you so desperately needed. “You’re so wet, sweetheart. Is this getting’ you going?” He teased, raising your hands above you, and all you could do was nod and moan. His hand cupped your face, his thumb rubbing across your cheek, as his mouth trailed your jaw on the other side. 

When he’d finished marking his favourite spot on your neck, leaving the skin stinging in the best way possible with his prints, he pulled away once again. He flipped you over, onto your stomach, undoing the catch on your bra and letting you shake your arms out of it, before you were without touch once again, back to both of your men as they stood behind you. 

Face down in the bed, you once again lost track of who was who, feeling another set of hands snaking their way up your thighs, into the lace of your panties. Inching them own, slowly, so slowly, another hand laced into your hair, pulling your head up from the bedding, and a body pressed against your back, the camera flashing in your face once again. 

“Oh, fuck.” You whined, the desperation beginning to cloud any semblance of morals or judgement you might’ve had left far more than any potion ever could. “Enough pictures, I need you, please!”

“Who do you need, baby? Who’s on their knees for you, huh? Get it right, and you can have it.” Clenching your thighs, you keened, throwing an arrogant smirk over your shoulder. 

“Theo.”

They both paused for a second before Mattheo chuckled. “How’d you know?”

“Because when you eat me out, Matty, you bite me first.” Your smirk was countered with a spank to the back of your thighs, and Theo sank his teeth into one of your arse cheeks as a consequence for your attitude, but it was worth it. 

Flipping up your skirt and exposing the sensitive skin of your backside to the room, Theo blew a streak of cold air across your bare pussy, making you jerk forwards with a startled gasp. “I’ve wanted to get my mouth between your legs for so long, bella. You have no idea how often I think about this.”

With that, Theo licked a long stripe up your dripping folds, and his moan was almost as loud as yours as he got a taste. Like a man possessed, Theo began to eat. He didn’t hold back, not even for a moment, confident in his movements as he proved all those rumours true. Girls loved to talk, Theo was a hot topic in gossip groups, and you were ashamed of how often you’d listened in. Now, you knew it all to be true.

You were just beginning to lose yourself to the feeling, hips rocking against Theo’s face as he eagerly encouraged the actions, when your head was yanked up, to meet another ghost-faced mask peering down at you. You were sure your heart had stopped beating altogether. 

Kneeling before you on the bed was Mattheo. If you weren’t well aware by this point that Theo was the one on his knees behind you, devouring you like you were his final meal, you’d have recognised Mattheo by his cock alone. Pretty pink tip and a slight curve that always hit just right, the silvery bead of arousal running down his tip and into his fingers as he pumped slowly made your mouth water. 

His fingers brushed your cheek, settling on your jaw, and you opened your mouth for him. 

“My good girl.” He murmured, allowing you enough time to prop yourself up on your elbows before the heated head of his cock found its way between your lips and settled like a heavy weight on your tongue. The salty taste of him was familiar, slicking across your tastebuds as you swirled your tongue around him, a deep and throaty rumble echoing from his chest as he settled back. 

With your hips pinned to the bed, your cries of pleasure were muffled by the cock in your mouth, he switched between fucking you with his tongue and teasing your clit. The sensations were overwhelming, so much going on that your head was spinning.

Kneeling there, thick thighs spread as your hands smoothed up them, you moaned around Mattheo, passing on the pleasure Theo made you feel. Sliding one hand up higher as the other supported you, your head bobbed, fingertips raking his flexing abs under his shirt. Tugging on a handful of the material, Mattheo tipped his covered face back to you, and you swore you could feel his smirk under the mask in the mere way he tilted his head. 

Pulling back with an obscene pop, you gasped for air, straightening your arm and leaning up as far as you could, while Theo still brutally gripped your hips to keep you in place against his face. “Please, Matty, take it off.”

With a mutter, his shirt disappeared, the chain you knew so well hanging around his neck, glinting in the warm lights against the glow of his skin. He held your face in his hands, pulling you up, and the mouth of the mask pressed against your lips. The taste of him through the fabric made your head spin, rationale abandoning you once again as you kissed him through the mask. 

His fingers threaded into your hair, tightening ever so slightly, as he pushed your head back down. “Suck, sweetheart.”

You dropped on shaky arms, taking the length of him down your throat once again, using him to muffle the sounds of your moans from Theo’s relentless assault on your cunt. The pressure building inside of you swelled, your hips grinding back against Theo’s face, pushing into the security of his hands on your body as he held so tight he’d bruise. With a cry around Mattheo’s cock, you fell apart. 

Your boyfriend pulled back as you came, your shouts and pleas exposed to the room as you trembled through an incredible orgasm. Theo kept up with you, every wave and dip, until you were boneless and spent on the bed. 

But he never stopped. 

Your fingers twisted in the sheets, a sensitive mewl escaping you, and as you tried to claw your way up the mattress, Theo pulled back, biting at your inner thigh. 

“You’re not going anywhere, dolcezza. I’ve waited so long for this, and who knows if I’ll ever get the chance again. I’m making the most of this. And I’m not finished.”

Mattheo slid off the bed as Theo flipped you over, letting you face the ceiling instead of the sheets now as he lifted one knee over each of his shoulders, his arms banding around your thighs. It locked you where you were, splayed open and unable to escape as he dove back in. 

Your back arched, head pressing into the mattress as his assault began anew on your overly sensitive cunt. As he worked, his own moans increased in volume and urgency, and you found the strength to lift your head for only a moment. Kneeling on the floor behind the maskless stranger that you knew to be Theo, was Mattheo. Now without his mask too, messy curls on display again, Theo sank two fingers into your core and scissored them open, freeing himself up to toss his head back onto Mattheo’s shoulder. 

Mattheo was kissing and biting his way along Theo’s shoulder and up his throat, his arm around Theo’s body moving in a way that you knew exactly why Theo was moaning in such a way. When Mattheo’s kisses reached high enough, Theo twisted his head, lips locking on Mattheo’s, and you clenched down around his fingers, dropping your head back to the bedding at the sight. 

Theo switched between kissing your boyfriend and kissing your pussy, both involving copious amounts of tongue, as his fingers never let up inside of you. Already being so overstimulated, it didn’t take long until you were teetering on the brink of another earth-shattering climax, ears ringing with your noise and Theo’s. 

Hopefully, everybody was at the party, because you’d forgotten to cast a Muffliato and there was no doubt that anyone passing by would be able to hear your moans. That, and the needy sounds Theo was making as Mattheo worked him closer and closer to the edge. 

When you finally came again, your body shook and trembled against the mattress, legs snapping closed as your wetness soaked your thighs, and you gasped for burning breaths amid the delirious pleasure. On the floor, Mattheo tugged an overstimulated Theo’s head back with a fistful of his golden hair, and bit the lobe of his ear, hard. Theo’s eyes rolled back happily as Mattheo mumbled, “Don’t you dare come yet, pretty boy, I have plans for you.”

With that, Theo was whining pathetically as Mattheo retracted from touching him at all, rocking to his feet with far too much arrogant ease for the state both you and Theo rendered to. The final pieces of clothing between the three of you were shed, somewhere between Theo pulling Mattheo in for desperate kisses, and Mattheo mumbling into the snog about how long he’s desired this. You watched, through hooded eyes, as the tangled men stumbled their way towards you, hips grinding together through decreasing layers of clothing, until Mattheo was gripping them both in his hand to thrust together. 

You threw an arm over your eyes, too turned on by the sight before you to even catch your breath, and the mattress was soon bouncing as another body hit it. You found yourself lying beside Theo on the bed, his features ever so slowly starting to seep back into focus. The potion was nearing its end, and the smile on his swollen lips was familiar as he leaned over to kiss you. 

“Hi, bella.”

“Hi, Teddy.” You grinned as his mouth slanted against your own, a heady mix of Mattheo’s flavour, your arousal, and simply him, all meeting in the kiss. It was enough to melt you into his arms in half a second. Theo rolled onto his back, bringing you with him, and you yelped as Mattheo gripped your hips and lifted you to straddle Theo properly. 

“You looked so pretty squirming in his lap before, baby. Show me again.” Mattheo mocked, and you had no doubt you were far from pretty, now. Your tears would’ve ruined your makeup, smeared into your hands or the sheets, you no doubt looked like a fucked-out mess, but the only thing you saw reflected in either of their gazes was raw, primal desire. 

Theo slipped a hand from your hip to his cock, notching the leaking tip to your entrance, already stretched out from his previous activities. You were clenching around nothing, your whining reaching your ears, fading out into moans as he slowly sank into you. Inch by inch, Theo was stretching you out for the first time this evening. He was longer than Mattheo, surpassing any depths you’d ever been fucked to before, and your eyes rolled back, panting through shallowed breaths as you pushed back against him until you were filled. 

It truly felt like he was splitting you in half, the tip of his cock pressing so deep and the outline of him present on your stomach. You traced the bulge of him with a sick kind of thrill. “So big, Teddy.”

“That's because I’ve never been this turned on in my fucking life. Merde.” He wheezed, his head pressing back into the bedding behind his head. Mattheo chuckled from behind you both, his kisses leading up your spine as you sat in Theo’s lap, adjusting to the fill of him. 

“Look at my sweethearts, already so spent,” Mattheo murmured, hooking his chin over your shoulder, his arm snaking around your waist to toy slowly with your throbbing clit. As your hips began to move, Theo’s jaw dropped open, and his eyes constantly moved between where you met, your face, and Mattheo. He couldn't decide where to look or what to watch, as Mattheo littered your mouth with hickeys behind you, and you rode Theo. 

The potions were finally wearing off, and you were thrilled to see the familiar features reappear. Beneath you, at last, Theo came into full focus. His messy hair, his flushed cheeks, swollen lips and shining eyes. He was the most beautiful you’d ever seen him, and that was saying something because he was gorgeous every moment of every damn day. You couldn't help yourself as you smiled, and he beamed back with genuine emotion, not just lust.

Rocking your hips needily against his own, chasing both of your climaxes, you leaned down to him and smothered his lips with your own. He kissed back just as tenderly, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, and he sighed in a soft manner as your fingers slipped into his hair, and your tongue tangled with his. 

He settled for propping himself up during the kiss, giving you the perfect place to lean against his chest. Finally finding himself and crooking his legs behind you, his motions tossed you forward a little more, your mouths parting with your surprised gasp. He smirked as you lost your momentum and power, only to hand it all over to him as he began to thrust up into you from below. In your new position, Mattheo let out a contented sound at the sight, running calloused hands down the sides of your ribs, over your hips, and to your arse. 

Pulling your cheeks apart, he whispered a new spell you’d been experimenting with lately, and the warm, wet sensation of a lubricating charm trickled out from between your cheeks. A fingertip teased your puckering hole, sliding in to the first knuckle, and then deeper. 

“Think you can take us both, baby?” Mattheo asked, teasing, but genuine concern coated his voice through the lust, and when you nodded frantically, it wasn’t enough. 

“Both?” Theo panted, his thrusts slowing to a stop as you pushed yourself back onto what was now two of Mattheo’s fingers, stretching you open to take a second cock. “Oh, fuck, you’re— voi due siete come se il mio sogno più bello diventasse realtà.” Theo moaned, his hands holding your hips tight as he slammed a single, frantically hard thrust into you and then stilling for Mattheo.

“Yes or no, sweetheart? I don’t want to—”

“Yes, Mattheo! Merlin, yes, please! Please, do it.” Your begging was hurried and blurred, no longer capable of proper thought of speech, all you knew was what you needed from him. From them both. 

Mattheo slipped his fingers out of you, gripping his cock and spitting down onto himself, smearing it around his cock in the wetness already gathered, and positioning himself. At the sight, Theo whined again, “Me next,” He mumbled, and Mattheo laughed breathlessly. 

“To be spat on, or to be fucked up the arse?” Mattheo questioned, sinking himself into you slowly, and your eyes rolled back. 

“Cazzo, what kind of question is that? Both. Absolutely both.” Theo yapped, only drowned out by the volume of the sound you made. Pornographic, filthy, and uncontrollable. Your arms finally gave way, and you collapsed down to be cradled against Theo’s chest as you were finally filled with them both. It was so much it was overwhelming, in the best way possible, and you knew now that you were definitely being split in two this time. It was exquisite. 

Beginning to rock their hips into you, the two soon found a pace and worked together, and you lost yourself to the pleasure of it. Pure, unadulterated bliss took you over, the feeling spreading to the tips of your fingers and toes, and clouding everything thought in your head that wasn't begging or their names. Your body rocked with them, your throat raw, and it wasn’t long before the feelings were all consuming. 

Catapulting over the brink of bliss, a feeling you’d only experienced once or twice before took hold of you. Your juices gushed from you, a mess that soaked both the man under you as well as the one behind you. Mattheo praised you through an orgasm that came with so much force you were sure you blacked out for a moment, while Theo rode you through it and observed in awe. Your heart was pounding so hard you felt as though you were hardly breathing, screams petering off into absolute silence as tears ran down your cheeks. It was perfect. 

Mattheo soon followed, emptying himself inside of you with a deep and feral growl, pressing you into Theo’s chest as his body collapsed against your own. Shaking against you through his bliss, Mattheo left a collection of fast, loving kisses along your neck and shoulders, before pulling you off of Theo. 

Letting you roll to the side and shudder through the aftershocks, Mattheo focused his attention on the other member of your trio. Theo couldn’t even find the words to complain before Mattheo was circling a finger and thumb around the base of Theo’s cock, following the creamy circle of your arousal, and squeezing. 

Theo’s back arched, his legs spasming, and the veins in his biceps stood out as his cheeks went red with the strain of his desperation. 

“No!” He howled, slamming a fist into the bedding, almost hitting the discarded camera, and your hand caught it just before it rolled off of the edge of the bed. Surprising, that it had survived there for this long. “Why, Matty? I was— I was—”

Theo’s voice cracked, tears lining his eyes at being held at the brink when he was so close to the edge, and he took gasping, audible breaths as he tried to settle himself, sniffling. 

“I know, my pretty boy, I know,” Mattheo whispered, leaning down to kiss Theo’s frown. “You can come, just let me get my mouth on you first. I’ve always wanted you to come down my throat, I just needed you to hold off for me.” 

Theo let out a pained groan at that, his anger fading away as he nodded, and he slipped long fingers into dark curls before your very eyes as Mattheo descended upon his best friend’s cock. 

He dragged his tongue along the entire length of him, licking your juices from Theo’s skin, and his cock twitched dangerously. Taking the hint, Mattheo swallowed him down, and he wasn’t even halfway before Theo’s back arched, and he came. 

It was a beautiful sight and sound, both you and Mattheo watching in admiration as Theo finally reached his peak. Positioning the camera in your unsteady hands, you snapped a picture of the sight before you. Theo’s arched back, Mattheo with his flushed cheeks stuffed full, watching the man he was pleasuring. 

Click.

At the flash in the room, Mattheo’s focus moved to you, a wicked look flashing in those pretty eyes as he sucked one more time against Theo’s cock, before pulling back. He opened his mouth, tongue out, a picture of perfect filth as he showed just how much come Theo had released, dripping across his tongue. 

Click.

He took the camera from your hands and tossed it to the ground the second the photo was out, leaning down to kiss you messily and share the prize he’d won. Hurried kisses with Mattheo slowed as Theo’s taste seeped away, and your racing hearts all managed to settle.

The three of you lay in the bed, slowly gathering yourselves once again as you came back down from orbit. You were covered in bruises and bites, Theo was covered in your scratches and hickeys, and Mattheo was just a mess. The room smelled of sweat, sex, and weed Mattheo sparked up. Theo uttered a few charms and spells, whatever he could think of as you all basked in the afterglow, sharing the spliff between you.

Curling onto your side when it was finished, you caught Mattheo’s eye over the top of Theo’s chest, the grin he wore told you just how content and satisfied he was with the night’s events. Theo lifted an arm, brushing it through his hair with a heavy sigh, and when he lowered it back down, you caught his hand. 

Lacing his fingers with your own and snuggling in closer, your cheek came to rest on his shoulder as you kissed his knuckles. “That was incredible.” You whispered into the room, the music sputtering out and the lights lowering to fade out with a click of Mattheo’s fingers. 

“We’re doing that again soon, right?” Mattheo asked, prompting tired laughs from both you and Theo. “What? I haven’t even begun to scratch off the bucket list of things I want the three of us to do together.”

[poisonedspider]

Angel didn't know why he was so nervous. It wasn't like he hadn't been in the spotlight before. Plenty. But there was something about showing up as the date of the Gambling Overlord that made him feel a little more shy. He was used to being shown off by the Overlord of Lust and Depravity, but Husker was much more regal than that. Gentlemanly. The expectations were a bit different, and Angel didn't want to disappoint.

Long legs were the first things out of the limousine, naturally towering over the cat as he fully stood in his heels. The sparkling sequined blush dress hugged him beautifully, showing off all his curves (which he did have, thank you.) He wasn't hard to spot either, considering he had a name for himself, but that didn't mean the secrecy of the situation wasn't kind of exhilarating.

"Don't know if ah'll be th' center of attention, babe. Yeh' just biased." He teased, before nodding towards the crowd. "Go mingle. Sure everyone wants t' see th' big powerful Gamblin' Overlord wit' how much yeh' keep t' yeh'self." The smile that Husk was talking about spread across his features, kissing the other's cheek before letting Husk go.

It wasn't like Angel had never been to parties before, either, but this was so mature. He couldn't just grind up on people to get attention. He also didn't want to get too sloppy that he embarrassed Husker, but just one drink would be nice. Which was why he was making his way through the crowd, attempting to find where the refreshments were.

@qveenofgluttony

Look what the cat dragged in - Masquerade Ball entrance.

It had been quite some time since the Gambling Overlord had shown his face outside his Casino. He hadn't planned on breaking that streak, that is until the invitation to the Ball in the Gluttony ring had showed up on his desk. A long stretch limo pulled up and as the door opened, Huskers grinning face graced any who were still outside. Of course he wouldn't be attending alone, and before he could take in the splendor of his surroundings his large paw was taken by a dainty hand. His date, @poisonedspider.

They were paired in shimmering silver and blue. Masks placed ever so elegantly on their face. -- But with golden hues shining from behind, Husker wouldn't be hard to spot.

"Let's see how t'night goes. Keep that beautiful smile on y'face an' you'll be the center of attention, Sweetheart."

@qveenofgluttony

[ni4lovesu]

school events to script ₊˚⊹ᰔ

⊹ ࣪ student hosted ˖ ʚɞ.

— back to school party : each year an epic party is thrown 1 week before school starts at a student’s house

— halloween party : weekend before halloween, everyone dresses up in their costumes and it’s extremely chaotic and hype

⊹ ࣪ faculty hosted ˖ ʚɞ.

— spring festival : takes place on spring equinox, right before the start of the spring break. essentially a day for students to cut class, destress and have fun! rose petals littered everywhere, flower mazes, bouncy castles, school wide egg hunt, picnics while watching the sunset, school wide bonfire after sunset, school dance in the evening, large picnic area with seasonal foods and drinks, flower crown making etc.

— summer solstice picnic : students relax on blankets, playing a ton of fun board and card games. buffet section with snacks and drinks

— summer festival : outdoor games include watermelon eating contest, slip and slides, bouncy castles, basketball shootout, ring toss, orbeeze fun shootout, and DIY bracelets etc. and refreshments include cotton candy machines, ice creams, popsicles, slushies served in frozen fruit, juice stalls, fruit stalls, bbq chicken skewers, pizza, tacos, frozen yoghurt cup, wraps, hotdogs, corn on a cob, doughnuts, churros, french fries, fried carrot cake etc.

— fall festival : takes place annually on the fall equinox and includes activities such as apple and pumpkin picking, apple bobbing, pumpkin carving, outdoor harvest feast, pie eating contest, cornmaze, in season food and beverages, bake off etc.

— christmas festival : a day where we do a bunch of christmas activities such as gingerbread house contest, ice skating, snowman building competition, making diy ornaments and going to fun christmas booths selling small goodies, at night there is a christmas concert consisting of songs, dances, plays by students and one performance by some teachers

— winter festival : a day where we do a bunch of winter activities such as ice skating, ice fishing, snowboarding, building snowmen, building igloos, snowball fights, stargazing. in between these activités we can go to nearby towns and drink hot choco and eat chocolate muffins, pancakes etc.

— new years gala : held annually on new years eve. guests gather out in the school square to celebrate the final hours of the year, culminating in a stunning fireworks display and light show as the new year begins. the evening is simple yet elegant, featuring champagne or sparkling cider, an array of delicious finger foods to start, followed by a buffet dinner with exquisite dishes. guests can enjoy dancing, warm company and festive touches like sparklers, small safe firecrackers, party poppers etc. for added fun. attire is unofficially cocktail attire, and music goes from smooth jazz to upbeat and lively tunes as the night progresses

— valentine’s ball : masquerade ball held annually in february in celebration of this romantic month. the venue is adorned with roses, hearts, and soft lighting, creating a dreamy atmosphere. tables are filled with themed foods and sweets with secret messages hidden within its wrappers. waiters also double as letter carriers, allowing students to send anonymous messages to one another throughout the event

— halloween ball : held annually on halloween day, the venue is transformed into a spook show, adorned with eery decoration fitting the season. students can dance, mingle, enjoy themed foods lining the tables, and explore adjoining rooms and hallways designed as haunted corridors filled with jumpscares, riddles, and puzzles to go through in exchange for candy. scare actors also roam the school, ready to give unsuspecting students a great fright.

— lantern festival : the celebration begins with a school wide picnic but as night falls, the focus shifts to designing lanterns and releasing them into the sky. other activities include lion and dragon dances, fireworks display, and rice ball eating competitions

— ice cream socials : buffet full of a wide array of ice cream flavors, a toppings bar, cookies and brownies for crafting personalized ice cream sandwiches, a float station, as well as specialty gelato, sorbet, and frozen yogurt stations. people can relax on provided picnic blankets spread out on a field while partaking in a myriad of activities like slip 'n slides, live band performances, photobooths, ice cream eating contests and even water balloon fights

— storybook carnival : making the school a magical world of stories by decorating the classrooms as different books, having haunted houses, cosy hangout areas around the school, book sale + donations, special book-themed foods etc.

— basket auction : people place bids on baskets filled with food to win the opportunity to have a picnic with the basket owner and its contents

— workshop day : students can learn skills such as woodwork, sewing, gardening, or cooking from local experts

— creations week : art exhibitions, fashion show, game development club’s game exhibition, robotics club’s robots, ceramic crafts, music student’s musical artworks, poetry by literature students

— bonfire : late night bonfire by the beach roasting marshmallows, stargazing and talking

— prom : fun dresses, great music, dancing all night, hype band, air conditioned room, good food, cute date

— overseas trips : ski trips in switzerland, london, greece, hawaii, italy, tokyo, bali, etc.

— learning journeys : science museum, zoo, aquarium, butterfly sanctuary, national gallery, art gallery, farm, planterium, petting zoo, historical landmarks, theatre, industry tours, adventure park, laser tag, bowling, amusement parks, escape rooms etc.

— school wide sleepover : games, movie, pizza, endless amount of beverages and snacks, etc.

— arcade night : the school rents arcade games and puts it all around the gym

— school assemblies : w/ school performances that are hype asf, some even by teachers

— school wide paintball fight, annual barbecue day, founders day, volunteer day, sports festival, pyjama day, no bag day, picture day, talent show, cultural fair, science fair, school play, book fair, movie night, trivia night

[dreamescapeswriting]

Stray Kids Reaction || You're Not Financially Stable [Mafia Edition]

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - April 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

CHAN:

Chan was starting to get increasingly worried about you. You had been evading him for weeks, your once warm embraces replaced by cold distance. Suspicion clawed at his mind, whispering tales of betrayal and deceit. Unable to ignore the gnawing doubt any longer, Chan set out to confront you at your apartment. As he approached your door, his heart hammered against his chest, each step a testament to the turmoil within him.

Knocking gently, Chan waited with bated breath, the tension thick in the air. When no answer came, he pushed open the door, his eyes scanning the barren room.

"Yn?" he called out, his voice echoing against the empty walls.

Silence greeted him, the absence of her presence a heavy weight upon his shoulders. But then, amidst the desolation, a glimmer of hope flickered—a letter lying on the table, its edges crumpled with despair.

With trembling hands, he unfolded the paper, his eyes devouring the words scrawled upon it—a tale of eviction, of loss, and of a new beginning. You had been forced from your home, cast aside like a forgotten memory.

Determined to find you, Chan retraced your steps, each corner of the city a labyrinth of possibilities. It wasn't long before he stumbled upon a quaint café, its windows aglow with warmth and laughter. Above it lay a modest apartment, a sanctuary hidden from the chaos below.

Heart pounding, Chan ascended the stairs, anticipation mingling with trepidation. When he reached the door, he paused, uncertainty clouding his thoughts. But then, with a resolve born of love, he knocked.

The door swung open, revealing your tear-streaked face, your eyes widening in disbelief at the sight of him.

"Channie?" you whispered, your voice barely audible above the din of the city. You never thought you'd see him again after everything.

"Yn," he breathed, relief flooding through him at the sight of you, knowing you were well...at least alive, you looked as though you'd barely slept and had been crying a lot. Tears welled in your eyes as you beheld the man who had once held your heart, his presence a lifeline in the storm.

"I thought I'd lost you," You confessed, your voice trembling with emotion. After being kicked out, your phone was off service and you'd lost your charger so you couldn't even get his number. Everyone you turned to for help ignored you or pushed you away. Chan stepped forward, enveloping you in his embrace, his touch a promise of safety amidst the chaos.

"You'll never lose me," he vowed his words a beacon of hope in the darkness. 

"I'm here, Yn. And I'm not going anywhere." He promised, kissing your cheeks and keeping you pressed close to him. He wasn't certain what the future held for you both but he was sure he wasn't going to lose you again.

MINHO:

Lee Minho, a prominent figure in the underground world of organized crime, strode into the opulent ballroom of the Grand Palazzo, his arm intertwined with that of his stunning girlfriend, you. The two of you were a striking pair; Minho, with his sharp suit and commanding presence, and you, elegant in your signature red dress, exuding grace and beauty.

The occasion was a black-tie charity event, a masquerade of the city's elite, where appearances were everything. Minho relished the opportunity to flaunt his status, but tonight, his focus was solely on you.

As you mingled through the crowd, a snide remark caught Minho's attention. A well-dressed socialite whispered to her companion, casting a disdainful glance at you, 

"Isn't that the same dress she always wears? How embarrassing. Clearly, she can't afford anything better." It was a comment you'd grown used to hearing by now, it wasn't as though you could afford extravagant gowns every time Minho wanted you to join him at a party. Minho's jaw clenched in anger, his protective instincts kicking in. He resisted the urge to confront the woman, knowing it would only draw unwanted attention. Instead, he steered you away, his mind swirling with thoughts.

Later in the evening, amidst the swirl of music and laughter, Miinho overheard snippets of a conversation nearby.

"Did you hear about Yn? Word has it she's struggling to make ends meet. Works multiple jobs just to pay the bills."

"I heard Izzie say she saw her working in a diner just outside of the city," Another voice said before laughter ensued. Minho's heart sank. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. You had never mentioned anything about financial difficulties, and he had never thought to pry into your personal affairs. But now, faced with these rumours, he couldn't ignore them.

He guided you to a quiet corner of the room, his expression troubled. "Yn, is it true? Are you having trouble with money?" Your cheeks heated with embarrassment, and you looked down, unable to meet his gaze. 

"Minho, I... I didn't want you to worry. It's nothing, really." It wasn't as though you were in tons of trouble, you just struggled to make ends meet sometimes and some weeks you'd have to survive on just noddles. Minho gently lifted your chin, his eyes searching yours for the truth. 

"Don't shut me out, baby. I need to know. If you're struggling, we'll face it together." Tears welled in your eyes as you finally confessed, 

"I've been working extra shifts at the diner, tutoring on the weekends, just to keep up with the bills. I didn't want you to think any less of me." his heart ached at your words. He had always admired your independence and strength, but now he saw the toll it was taking on you. Without hesitation, he pulled you into his embrace, holding you close.

"You don't have to do this alone, baby. I'm here for you, always. We're a team," he whispered softly, promising to support you in any way he could.

CHANGBIN:

Changbin strode purposefully up the steps to your apartment, anticipation building as he looked forward to spending time with you, the two of you had hardly spent any time together as of late since he got busy with work. However, his eagerness turned to concern as he noticed the unmistakable shape of an eviction notice pinned to your front door.

His heart sank as he read the terse words printed on the paper, realizing the gravity of the situation. Without hesitation, he knocked on the door, his mind racing with worry for you. 

When you opened the door, your eyes widened in surprise and a flicker of embarrassment flashed across your face at the sight of him standing there with the notice in hand. You'd meant to take it down when you got home from work but you'd completely forgotten when you were cleaning the apartment.

Before you could say anything, he spoke gently but firmly, "What's going on, baby?" Your shoulders slumped in defeat as you met his gaze, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I've been struggling," you confessed, your words heavy with shame and yet admitting it felt as though a weight had been taken off your shoulders. "I couldn't keep up with the rent, and now they're evicting me." Changbin's heart ached at the sight of your distress, his protective instincts kicking into high gear. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, enveloping you in a reassuring embrace.

"You should have told me," he murmured, his voice filled with tenderness. "We'll figure this out together."

Determined to help you through this difficult time, he wasted no time in springing into action. Whether it was arranging for temporary housing, offering financial assistance, or simply providing emotional support, he was determined to be there for you every step of the way. He'd been tempted to buy the apartment building out from your landlord but you'd refused to let him, promising that what he was doing was already enough

HYUNJIN:

The atmosphere in the grand hall was electric as the auctioneer's voice echoed off the walls, commanding attention. Hyunjin was dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, and surveyed the room with a practised eye, his gaze flickering over the exquisite artworks on display. It felt as though he did this a few times a week if he was lucky enough and he could never get enough of the art functions.

But amidst the flurry of bids and whispers, something caught his attention—a series of paintings that seemed strangely familiar. As he drew closer, his heart skipped a beat. They were your paintings, each stroke a testament to your talent and passion. Confusion and concern swirled in his mind as he approached the saleswoman, his tone carefully controlled.

"Excuse me," he began, "but could you tell me about the artist who donated these paintings?" He knew you'd never want to sell them and he worried someone might have stolen them from you. You'd sold a few paintings before but these were your masterpieces, the ones you couldn't even dream of selling.

The saleswoman offered him a sympathetic smile, her eyes betraying a hint of sadness. 

"The woman who donated them was struggling," she explained softly. "She didn't want to sell, but she had no choice." A surge of protectiveness washed over Hyunjin as he listened to her words. He knew how much those paintings meant to you, how each brushstroke told a story of your dreams and aspirations. Without another word, he made up his mind. As the bidding continued around him, he silently placed his bids, determined to acquire every single one of your paintings.

Once the auction concluded and the paintings were in his possession, he wasted no time in arranging for them to be hidden away, safe from prying eyes and opportunistic buyers.

Weeks passed, and Hyunjin watched as you struggled with your art, unaware of the fate of your precious creations. He knew you longed to reclaim them, to see them hanging proudly in your studio once more. Hyunjin knew you'd never let him help you if he tried to give you money for rent or even if he tried to get you to let him help with anything but he was proud of you. You'd dug your way out of the financial pit you were in until you were ready again.

"I thought we were going to dinner," You giggled as Hyunjin took you into a warehouse, the two of you were going to celebrate your new job but he wanted to take you to your paintings first.

"It's a secret." He chuckled, as you entered the dimly lit room, Hyunjin could sense the tension radiating from you. You glanced around, your eyes widening in disbelief as they landed on row after row of canvases shrouded in darkness.

"What is this place?" You whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. Hyunjin stepped forward, his hand reaching out to gently grasp yours. 

"This is where I've been keeping something for you," he explained softly, guiding you further into the room.

As you approached the first stack of paintings, he paused, allowing you to take in the sight before you. You gasped, your breath catching in your throat as you realized what lay hidden beneath the cloths. You'd been desperately trying to find the buyer for almost a week now, willing to trade him some of your other paintings for your old ones.

"These... these are my paintings," You whispered, your voice shakey as you turned to look at Hyunjin who was nodding, a small smile playing on the corners of his lips.

"Yes," he confirmed, his gaze never leaving yours. "Every single one of them." Tears welled up in your eyes as you moved closer, reaching out to touch the familiar textures of your artwork. It felt like a dream, surreal and yet undeniably real.

"Why?" You asked, your voice choked with emotion. "Why did you do this?"  He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes filled with tenderness. 

"Because I know how much these paintings mean to you," he replied softly. "And because I wanted to make sure they were safe until you were ready to reclaim them." Your heart swelled with gratitude as you looked up at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears. In that moment, you knew that you were loved more deeply than you had ever dared to imagine.

Wrapping your arms around him, you buried your face in his chest, overcome with emotion.

JISUNG:

Jisung sat patiently in the living room, his mind drifting as he waited for you to finish getting ready for your date, the two of you were going out to celebrate your anniversary tonight. Glancing around the room absentmindedly, his eyes fell upon a stack of unopened envelopes on the coffee table—bills and late notices, their contents a stark reminder of the financial struggles they faced. 

His brow furrowed in concern as he picked up one of the envelopes, his heart sinking as he read the ominous words printed on the front. He had suspected that you had been under financial strain, but he had never imagined it was this severe.

Before he could dwell on his thoughts any longer, he heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching, and he looked up to see you descending the stairs. But instead of the usual smile on your face, he was met with tear-filled eyes and a quivering lip when you saw what he was holding.

Instantly, his heart clenched with worry as he rose from his seat, crossing the room to envelop you in a comforting embrace. You snuggled into him and sniffled a little.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he murmured, his voice filled with concern. You buried your face in his chest, your tears staining his shirt as you struggled to find the words to explain. 

"I... I'm sorry," You choked out between sobs. "I didn't want you to see this... I've been trying to handle it on my own..." Your family taught you never to rely on others for your money and it was something you'd tried to stick by but it was getting harder and harder to hide your troubles. Jisung held you tighter, his own heart heavy with the weight of your pain. He had never wanted you to feel like you had to carry the burden alone, but he understood why you had kept it from him.

Gently guiding you to the couch, he sat beside you, wiping away your tears with a gentle touch. 

"You never have to hide anything from me, my love," he assured you, his voice tender and reassuring. "We're in this together, no matter what." He whispered before kissing the top of your head, your heart was heavy as you stared at the stacks of unpaid bills just waiting for you to get another paycheck.

"It doesn't matter how much overtime I do, it's never enough." You admit to him with a sad smile, you wanted to be able to do this alone but it seemed damn near impossible. 

"What can I do?" He whispered, rubbing your back softly as you stared down at the bills.

"Give me a job?"

"How about I do that and you come to live with me? We can split everything," You stared up at him, nodding with a small smile on your face, you couldn't think of anything better. 

FELIX:

Felix sat in the dimly lit restaurant with his lawyers, enjoying the ambience of the evening. As plates clinked and conversations murmured around them, the mood suddenly shifted when his lawyers leaned in to offer some advice.

"Boss," one of them began cautiously, Felix thought his name was Noel but he couldn't have been sure since the two of them were twins and he could hardly tell the difference.

"We've been noticing something concerning about the women you've been seeing lately." Felix lowered his drink to the table and raised an eyebrow, intrigued but also wary of where this conversation might lead. He hadn't given them any permission to dig into you or your life, in fact, he'd given specific orders for almost all of his men to leave you alone.

"She doesn't seem... financially stable," The other lawyer added, choosing his words carefully, swallowing a lump in his throat and Felix noted he appeared to be sweating.

Felix felt a surge of disbelief and anger. These were his trusted advisors, but their intrusion into his personal affairs caught him off guard. He clenched his fists beneath the table, trying to keep his emotions in check.

"Not financially stable?" he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. 

"What exactly do you mean by that?" His lawyers exchanged uncomfortable glances, sensing his displeasure.

"Well, boss,"  Noel ventured, 

"we mean that perhaps the woman isn't the best match for someone in your position. They could be a liability, you know?" Felix's jaw tightened. He felt a mix of indignation and hurt. You were being judged solely on your financial status and he wanted nothing more than to kick the lawyers to the curb but they'd told him something you hadn't yet. 

He leaned back in his chair, a steely resolve settling over him. 

"I appreciate your concern," he said icily, "but I'll thank you not to meddle in my personal life. I'll handle my relationships as I see fit." His lawyers exchanged uneasy glances, realizing they may have overstepped their bounds. But the Felix wasn't finished.

"And from now on," he continued his voice like ice, "I don't want to hear another word of advice on this matter. Is that clear?" His lawyers nodded hastily, sensing the gravity of the situation.

Later that night Felix found himself sitting across from you in your small apartment, your bills stretched out on the coffee table as you showed him everything that was late or on its final notice. It wasn't exactly something you were proud of but when he'd asked you if he could see it you didn't want to hide it from him.

"So Noel and Joel told you?" You laughed dryly and rubbed the back of your neck,

"I would have loved for you to tell me." He admitted, looking at the pieces of paper before he started to organise them into piles from most urgent to not-so-urgent.

"I was-"

"I know," He whispered, rubbing your hand softly as you laid your head down on the coffee table. You'd been trying everything to get yourself out of the hole you were in but it was proving to be more difficult than you'd been intending

"I think the best option is for you to move in with me," The suggestion came out so casually you thought it might have been a joke if it wasn't for him looking at you with a serious look on his face.

"Your biggest problem is your rent, once that's out of the way you'll have more than enough money for your bills." He told you with a smile, he'd been meaning to ask you for a while but this was just giving him that final push. 

"I still need to pay rent at yours," You told him and he nodded at you,

"Sure, but only once you're back on your feet, I won't take no for an answer," He smirks at you before your cheeks begin to heat up, moving in with him was the next step in your relationship, it only made sense. 

"O...Okay, great. I'll call my landlord-"

"I'll call, you focus on packing," He smirks, kissing you softly as you rush to go and get some bags and suitcases ready. 

SEUNGMIN:

Seungmin's heart pounded with fury as he burst into your apartment, only to be met with a scene of chaos. Two burly loan sharks loomed over you, their menacing presence casting a shadow over the room as they smashed objects in a display of intimidation.

Without hesitation, Seungmin stepped forward, his imposing figure radiating authority. The loan sharks froze in their tracks, their expressions shifting from arrogance to fear as they recognized him.

"What's going on here?" he demanded, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. You turned to see him, relief flooding your features at the sight of him but you were still scared that he was here. 

"It's... it's nothing," you stammered, your voice trembling with emotion. "They say I owe them money, but I don't know what to do."

Seungmin's jaw clenched as he surveyed the damage, his mind racing with a mix of anger and concern. He knew you had been struggling, but he had never imagined the extent of your troubles.

Turning to the loan sharks, he fixed them with a steely gaze. "Leave. Now," he commanded, his voice brooking no argument. The loan sharks hesitated for a moment, exchanging uneasy glances before hastily retreating from the apartment, their bravado crumbling in the face of the Seungmin's formidable presence.

Once they were gone, he turned his attention back to you, his expression softening with concern. 

"What happened?" he asked gently, his voice tinged with regret for not realizing the extent of your struggles sooner. Tears welled up in your eyes as you recounted the story of your ex-boyfriend, how he had left you drowning in debt with no way to escape. God, you'd been too ashamed to ask for help, too afraid of burdening him with your problems.

But as you poured your heart out to him, you felt a weight lifting from your shoulders, knowing that you no longer had to face your troubles alone.

"We're going to find your ex, make him pay those assholes back and then you're moving in with me," He tells you plainly, looking around at everything those two had smashed up,

"Make a list of everything they've broken, I'll have your ex or them replace it," He said sternly, looking at you as you wrapped yourself around him and cuddled into him, just happy you weren't going to go through this alone anymore.

JEONGIN:

The atmosphere at the black-tie event was opulent, with chandeliers casting a soft glow over the elegantly dressed guests. Jeongin, resplendent in his tailored suit, mingled effortlessly among the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and nods with fellow attendees.

"Isn't that your girlfriend?" Someone asked him, his gaze wandered to where his friend had been pointed and he frowned when he spotted you. His heart skipped a beat as he realized it was you, clad in a crisp uniform as you moved gracefully among the guests.

Confusion and concern mingled in his mind as he watched you discreetly from across the room. You had told him you were too sick to join him tonight, but here you were, working tirelessly to cater to the needs of others.

"Who knew you'd be dating a waitress," Someone sniggered before Jeongin "accidentally" spilt a glass of champagne down his suit, glaring at him before going back to watching you. Anger simmered beneath the surface as he approached you, his steps purposeful yet controlled. When he reached your side, he fixed you with a steely gaze, his voice low and measured.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, his tone tinged with a mix of frustration and disbelief. Your eyes widened in surprise as you met his gaze, your whole body heating up. You hadn't known that this was the specific party he was going to be at tonight,

"I... I had to work," You stammered, Your voice barely above a whisper. Jeongin's jaw tightened, his mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions. He had trusted you and believed you when you said you were too sick to accompany him tonight. But now, faced with the truth, he couldn't help but feel betrayed.

"Is that so?" he replied, his voice cold and distant. "You couldn't even be honest with me?" You lowered your gaze, your hands fidgeting nervously at your sides, it wasn't like you wanted to hide it from him but you were working four jobs and it was hard to let people know that. 

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the din of the crowd. "I didn't want to disappoint you." Jeongin's anger softened slightly as he looked at you, his heart aching with a mixture of frustration and compassion. He knew you had your reasons, your own struggles and obligations that you felt compelled to fulfil.

Taking a deep breath, he reached out to gently cup your cheek, his touch surprisingly tender despite the tension between them. 

"You should have told me," he murmured, his voice softer now, laced with an undercurrent of understanding.

"How? I work four jobs and you barely work one, I-I felt like you might hate me if you found out." You admit before he takes you in his arms, wrapping them around your waist and pulling you flush against him.

"I couldn't care if you worked none or ten, you're my girlfriend and I'm here for you, no matter what," He whispered before kissing you softly.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @myyouthdonut @extrhotjne @ca11me3mily @elissasimp @piercedddriver

[khuzena]

Fable

Pairing: Sunday x gn!reader

cw: themes of religion, emotional turmoil, mental health struggles, sin and redemption.

Synopsis: In a world engulfed with sin, Sunday feels as if there's no difference between him and the lowly sinners he preaches to. A stark irony in his thoughts and the cross that lay heavy on his chest, a preacher of Aeon Xipe, yet a damned fool that longs for a sinner. He offers redemption as if it's cheap since it only asks faith as its payment. However, the sinner he longs for has no ounce of faith in their soul. In the end, he could only sing praises— if only attaining salvation was so easy.

A/N: GUESS WHO'S BACK (no one remembers me) but I'm here to deliver angst anyways bc fuck this shit. My writing is shitty so bear with me. :(((

“Repent, sinner.” Sunday whispered as he held your hand, “Repent.”

"Sunday— let go” you drawled, voice dripping with shame. You leaned against the wall, the smoke from your cigarette curling lazily through the dim air, mingling with the stale scent of cheap perfume and old upholstery. The brothel was alive with murmured laughter and low music, the worn-out couches and faded curtains casting long shadows in the flickering amber light. Your skin was drenched in sweat, your head riddled in shame as your clothes lay bare on the floor. You've just finished servicing a client yet Sunday's invaded unknown territory; to save you, maybe.

The priest’s eyes swept the room, narrowing as if each detail confirmed his worst suspicions. His mouth twisted in a thin line of disgust as he clutched his Bible close to his chest, as if bracing himself against the "unclean" aura around him. The expression in his eyes was soft, painful—a thousand sermons held back by a single withering look.

“Please,” he said, voice clipped. “You know this isn't the answer— it's never too late.”

“Just go,” you replied, frowning without your usual certain devil-may-care charm. You let sin consume you, as it's all you've ever known. “But you’re right, Father. It's never too late for others but I'm a lost cause.”

You trail off, the musky aroma of carnal desire in the room intoxicating his ‘pure’ soul, “You're gonna save me? With what, exactly? A sermon? A confession?”

“Redemption.” He said the word as if it could wash the room clean. “Even someone like you—someone who parades their sin as if it’s a crown—you could still be saved. Even now.”

You laughed, the sound echoing off the peeling walls, more haunting than humorous. “Saved? By what, exactly? A few Hail Marys and a scolding?” You looked him up and down, that faint amusement never leaving your eyes. “Maybe I’m not the one who needs saving. Ever thought of that?”

Sunday's face darkened, his fingers tracing the edge of his Bible like it was a weapon rather than a shield. “You speak of kindness, yet you live without a shred of humility or grace. Do you really think there’s peace in… in this?” He gestured around the room, lips curling in contempt. “All I see is emptiness masquerading as freedom.”

Your eyes narrowed, your smile fading. “Freedom?” You flicked the ash from your cigarette, watching it drift to the floor like grey snowflakes. “Tell me, Father, when was the last time you felt free?” You crawled to him as he sat on the stained sheets, so close he could feel the warmth of your breath, the faint scent of smoke and cheap perfume mixing with the cold edge of his cologne. “You clutch that Bible like it’s a cage, not a comfort. You come here, looking down on us from your self-righteous mountain, but you’re the one running. From what, exactly?”

He stiffened, the muscles in his jaw tightening as if you’d struck a nerve. “I serve the Lord,” he said, voice quivering with a mixture of conviction and something darker, something unsettled. “I bring light to places that have forgotten it. I offer hope to the lost.”

You smirked, unbothered. “Hope, is it? Funny, you seem more scared than hopeful. You think that because I don’t kneel and grovel that I must be empty, but I don’t need your god to tell me right from wrong. I may be a ‘sinner’ in your eyes, but I don’t preach peace and then threaten damnation. I help the lost here, too, in my own way—without the guilt. And without shame.”

For a moment, his composure slipped, a crack appearing in the stone-cold mask he wore. He looked at you—really looked at you—as if seeing past the lipstick and the smoke to something rawer, something he couldn’t name.

“Kindness without repentance is hollow,” he muttered, almost to himself, fingers ghosting over the cross around his neck. His eyes betray his actions, he can't admit that he loves a sinner like you.

“And blind faith without understanding is cruelty,” you shot back, your voice like a knife through the heavy air. “You think kindness is something you hand down from on high, something earned by prayers and purity. But look around, Father. These people don’t need sermons. They need food, a place to sleep—a little mercy, not lectures.”

He opened his mouth, as if to counter, but words seemed to fail him. Instead, his face twisted, half pity, half frustration. “I’ll… pray for you.”

A dry laugh escapes you, a hollow sound in the oppressive quiet. “Pray for yourself, Father. You’re the one who seems lost here.”

“I just want to save you,” He reiterates, his eyes gleaming with desperation, “Please, just repent. There's always a place for you in the church”

An airy scoff escapes your lips as you smack his hand away, “A place for me? A place for a sin laden person like me?”

A pregnant silence filled the room, he clutched the cross on his neck. There must be an answer, and if there isn't, he'll make you one. His free hand reaches into his pocket, you feel a beaded bracelet rest onto your wrist. It's heavy, so heavy.

“What are you doing to me?”

“I just want to save you,” his hands trembled in sync with the flickering candle light, “Just listen to me.”

“Stop, stop—” no matter how many times you plead him to stop acting so pathetic, he implores mercy for you. The sacred bracelet on your wrist is a testament to his love and his faith— one you could never share.

Sunday vowed himself to never step into the walls of pleasure as they're the home to lust, they're home to fools who seek salvation in sex. Yet, he's here. He's here to seek salvation for you. He brought Xipe’s presence into the home of the devil, in hopes to coerce you to the brighter side.

His presence in this brothel feels like an enigma, he doesn't belong here.

“I don't want you to rot in hell,” he trails off, kissing your knuckles, “I’ve never felt this before— Xipe owns my body, my soul.”

Why does his touch feel so addicting compared to the touches of far fairer men than him?

His wings droop onto his shoulders, your clothes on the floor reflecting on his shiny halo but he doesn't budge. He doesn't want to leave you here, he knows your heart is kind, yet your body's defiled— he’s determined that he'll cleanse you, he'll cleanse you of this sin.

He presses his lips again to your knuckles, “Why do you have to be so difficult?” He mutters to himself as his sacred tears paint your tainted skin.

Xipe may own every fibre of his being, but you've taken his very soul, you've stolen it with every scornful laugh, every unrepentant sin. THEY have save you, THEY need to save you—

However, when he stares back into the abyss in your eyes, he knows you're long forsaken by their blessings.

When you don't recite the verses escaping his lips, he realises you're a lost cause.

Please, Xipe. Please do something about them—

If that's not enough, he's brought jar filled with ash.

“That's enough Sunday—”

“It's not.”

His words sunk low as he turned more desperate than a man faced with death. For you to die and rot in hell is death in itself.

You should run away, you should push him away.

You should throw him back to the cathedral he preaches in.

But a part of you wants saving.

A part of you long to be in the same world he is, in body and soul and in every prayer recited.

But you can’t.

With trembling hands, Sunday brought his fingers to the jar of ash he'd clutched as if it held the very essence of Xipe himself. His touch was reverent, fingers dipping into the blackened dust as he leaned forward, his face a mask of fevered determination. His breath was ragged, each exhale brushing against your skin like a ghost's touch, hovering close as he traced the symbol of harmony on your forehead.

The ash was cold and heavy against your skin, spreading like a dark stain over the sweat still clinging to you from moments before. Sunday’s fingers shook as he sketched each line, each curve, his brows furrowing as if with each stroke he could carve Xipe’s mercy into your very soul. His lips moved soundlessly, chanting prayers, pleading with his god to see you—to reach you. His eyes glistened, holding a desperation so raw it felt as though he were laying his soul bare with every brush of his fingers.

"Please," he whispered, voice breaking as he drew the final stroke, his forehead pressed against yours, the rough ash between you a stark reminder of the worlds that kept you apart. "Please, let this save you." His eyes searched yours, wild with a hope he couldn’t contain, pleading with a faith that was beginning to crumble as he realized that even this sacred act, this final attempt to offer you salvation, might still leave you beyond his reach.

You're still a sinner through and through.

Sunday’s fingers lingered, almost frozen against your skin as he stared at the dark symbol he’d left, the weight of it so heavy it felt like it would pull you both under. His breaths came uneven, shallow, as he fought against the reality sinking in—that his desperate plea might not reach you, that this sacred symbol he’d etched might be nothing more than a stain.

His hand drifted to your cheek, thumb tracing the faint smudge of ash, as though hoping to rub it deeper, to make it part of you in some way that went beyond flesh and bone. His eyes were wet, glistening with the weight of unspoken prayers, with the terror of a man standing on the brink of faith and despair.

“I love you— I want you.”

“Then want me.”

‘Want me without fear’ - what you should've said.

He shakes his head, swallowing. “I can’t. To want you… to touch you? I’d lose everything.” Each word is a knife, cutting through the heavy air between you.

“Then why are you here?” you murmur, your voice laced with disbelief, the irony palpable in the dim light. A saint in sacred clothing before a madonna whore.

“Because you’re worth saving.” His eyes are fierce, but they tremble.

You laugh bitterly. “Even if I don’t want it?”

“It’s not just for you!” His grip tightens around your hands, desperation bleeding into his voice. “I need to believe… that you can be saved, that I can—” He falters, his eyes darkening. “What if I’m here because I’m as damned as you?”

“Then maybe you should let go of salvation.”

His wings flutter as sobs wreck his soul. Why can't THEY save you too? Why does he have to live with the idea that you'll rot— that he can't do anything about it?

And as he kneels before you, his lips brushing over your knuckles in a final, desperate kiss, he prays—more for himself than for you.

"I’ve seen hell, and it’s not the one you think," you murmur, voice low, yet biting. "It’s in the way you look at me—like I’m nothing but a sin."

A flash of pain crosses his face, mingling with the flicker of understanding that never quite settles. Anxiety tightens his grip on your hand as he absorbs your words, though he’ll never truly understand them. He opens his mouth, but only silence falls—a prayer unsaid, a salvation he’s not even sure he can give.

His gaze drops, lingering on the thin sheet covering you like a veil over desecration, and he looks away, ashamed yet bound.

He leans in, lips hovering just above yours—a kiss he tells himself is selfless.

“I'll pray for you."

I'll forgive you.

Note: BYE BER MONTHS HIT ME LIKE A TRUCK— I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED PROGRESS OF MY WIP FICS AND I WAS IN TEARS AND JS CRASHED OUT. IM BACK BC GIGI PEREZ JS MADE ME WRIT EGAIAN

special mention: @whyiseveryname-taken bro I'm still ariting abt that angst jing yuan fic btw if u still remember 😈

Written by @khuzena. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. ♡ 

[ryuyukawa]

A Night to Remember

★ CHARACTER ─ Malleus Draconia

✦ GENRE ─ fluff

★ WARNING ─ none

✦ SUMMARY ─ In the ballroom of NBC, glancing amongst the crowd, you noticed him. This was your chance.

Note: I think this takes place after they sang "Make a Wish"? I don't really know... Im probably not the only one who got this idea, but I just really wanted to write this one. It came to me while I was listening to "Ma Meilleure Ennemie" on loop

The ballroom of Noble Bell College glimmered under the soft light of the chandeliers. The elegance of the surroundings seemed to amplify the elegance of every guest present. Gowns swirled like blooming flowers and tuxedos glided across the polished floors, all accompanied by the hum of music and laughter. You stepped into the room, your attire fitting perfectly for the occasion—a vision of grace amidst the crowd.

Your eyes scanned the room, drawn instinctively to him. Malleus Draconia stood near the edge of the ballroom, his striking masquerade attire radiating an air of majesty that left onlookers hesitant to approach. Sebek stood honorably by his side, his intense gaze warding off any who might muster the courage to engage the heir of Briar Valley.

But not you.

You wove your way through the crowd, your heart racing with anticipation as Malleus’s gaze found yours. His eyes seemed to soften, the imposing presence he carried melting into something more gentle. With a small, almost unnoticeable smile, he stepped away from Sebek and began moving towards you.

The music shifted, signaling the start of a dance. The crowd parted slightly, as if the world itself made space for the moment between you and him. You reached him just as the first notes echoed through the hall, and he offered you his gloved hand.

"May I have this dance?" his voice, calm and smooth, a gentle smile that just warms your heart.

"Of course," you replied, placing your hand in his.

The dance began. He moved with an elegance that seemed almost otherworldly, his steps perfectly measured and graceful. You, however, let the music guide you, your style freer and more expressive. At first, it felt like a mismatch, but then you noticed something extraordinary—Malleus was slowly mimicking your movements, his usually precise steps loosening to mirror your fluidity.

A laugh bubbled from your lips, and he smiled—a genuine, delighted expression that lit up his face. Together, you danced, your contrasting styles blending into something uniquely yours. The crowd around you blurred, the music your only anchor to reality.

He twirled you around, his grip steady yet gentle, and you couldn’t help but laugh again, the sound light and free as it mingled with the melody. As you spun back into his arms, the world seemed to pause for a heartbeat; eyes locking onto yours.

Later, you found yourselves on the balcony, the cool night air brushing against your skin. The stars above stretched endlessly, their light casting a faint glow over the gardens below. The muffled sounds of the ballroom drifted through the open doors, but out here, it felt as though you were in an entirely different world.

Laughter bubbled up from your chest, and Malleus gave you a look of amused curiosity, his emerald eyes alight with a rare glimmer of playfulness.

"How’d you know how to dance like that?" you teased, referencing his loose, carefree movements that had mirrored your own.

"I didn’t," he replied smoothly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You blinked. “You’re saying you were just winging it?”

“Of course,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “I followed your lead. If it seemed otherwise, perhaps you’re a better guide than you realize.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache in the best way. "Well," you said softly, "I think you’re a natural. But next time, maybe don’t outshine me at my own style.."

...

"I never imagined I would enjoy myself so much tonight," he admitted, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. "You’ve shown me something new—something wonderful."

You leaned against the balcony rail, looking at him. "I enjoyed every moment, too..."

He turned toward you fully, his gaze unwavering. "I’ve often been surrounded by people yet felt entirely alone. But with you, I’ve felt… seen." His words touched something deep within you, and before you could respond, his smile widened—a genuine, heartfelt expression that seemed almost out of place on someone so regal.

"I'm grateful," he said simply, his voice filled with warmth. You smiled back, feeling a sense of connection you hadn’t thought possible. In that moment, under the starlit sky, it felt like the rest of the world had faded away, leaving only the two of you and the quiet, unspoken promise of something more.

I haven't been writing since I was busy with school, and also been kinda focused on drawing more... so I feel like im not as good? but so far I like this Idea more than the rest..

Soo... how was it? GOOD? BAD? It feels rushed.. OH NOO!

I feel like it didn't really turned out on how I wanted it to, but I barely even remember it

I think im gonna try to focus on twst more :•)

[yuurei20]

Malleus Facts Part 23: Frightening (pt2)

Malleus explains, “people with power beyond conventional norms inspire fear” which Lilia confirms, saying that Malleus’ “immense power often causes people to shy away from him.”

Lilia says that, as Malleus would "blow holes in walls, freeze entire castles, and rain down lightning from the sky" ("He was quite the tantrum-thrower") some people regard him as "a bad boy," but, "Who wouldn't turn out that way when others constantly avoid you out of fear?"

Named characters on the cast will also be frightened of Malleus, with Deuce, Ace and Epel panicking during Book 5 when the prefect greets him.

The Firelit Sky group is also occasionally on eggshells about what might or might not drive Malleus to anger, with Jamil apologizing multiple times for the comments and actions of others in order to placate Malleus.

Idia says that one of the reasons no one was willing to take his spot as a lead vocalist for Glorious Masquerade was because they didn’t want to risk upsetting Malleus.

Ruggie is particularly vocal about his fear of Malleus, though after he sees him bickering with Leona even Ruggie reflects, “Maybe Malleus is more normal than I thought.”

Lilia says that he wishes other students “could be chummier” with Malleus, agreeing to Azul’s idea for Malleus to perform a song at the social as it might make Malleus “seem more approachable, which would make it easier for him to mingle.”

While people do still seem frightened of Malleus even after his song they still manage to approach him, which seems to please Malleus extremely. He seems equally amused by the prefect’s lack of fear (and ignorance) of him.

(Malleus says that the prefect does not know fear twice, both times using an identical form of expression in the original game that was written in two different ways on EN. This kind of rewriting would usually not be an issue in localization as long as the original meaning is being preserved, but Crowley has a similar line about the prefect where he uses a different turn of phrase from Malleus that is identical in meaning.

It is as if Malleus is repeating “You do not know fear” while Crowley is saying “you are fearless.”

While this might not mean anything in the end, there is a chance that the two characters being the same but different may prove important to the story, as is being portrayed in the original game via dialogue like this 👀)

[josefavomjaaga]

While the ball is just beginning and the arriving guests are still too busy admiring the hall to pay attention to anything else, four completely inconspicuous but heavily panting men manoeuvre a completely inconspicuous wooden crate through a side entrance and onto the gallery. Climbing out of the crate, not without effort and on the third or fourth attempt, is an elderly lady, about as tall as she is wide, dressed in a grey costume and grey boots that go perfectly with her messily pinned-up grey hair. She looks around nervously before hiding her face behind an elephant mask.

"Just remember," she says to herself, "this is not a social event. Not at all. This is a unique opportunity to experience Napoleon's marshals in their natural habitat. It's for science, so to speak." With that, she disappears into a window recess and anxiously peeks out from behind the curtains.

General Chatting and Mingling

At a grand ball like this, there are many things to do- but one of the primary activities is surely the most fulfilling and scandalous of them all... gossiping!

This is a general thread for in-character chatting and gossiping with other party attendees, if you'd like. Even if you did not receive an invitation to this ball, you are welcome to come chat here or in one of the three other activity threads.

You can also dance here, if you have a willing dance partner.

The hosts of the ball and their staff are around and can be approached for a conversation, if you wish, though they may be quite busy. A man in the mask of a ram is loudly making deliberately and obviously wrong guesses as to who is under what mask. A man with a leopard mask is holding the arm of a woman in the mask of a lioness. A man with powdered hair in a unicorn mask is watching the dancing.

A woman with a fluffy bumblebee mask is chatting to the doorwoman with the canary mask, and both of them are wearing sharp yellow and blue suits.

You can stay and chat or dance, or you can go back to the entrance, look at the diversions, check out the table groaning under the weight of a bunch of presents or attend to your thirst at the refreshments station.

[babydaddyleorio]

seamless phantom

01. Chrollo

Chrollo sat on the couch, his head thrown back over the edge and throat on full display. His eyes were closed, and his legs were spread wide. Tonight, he dressed in loose black slacks with his tie undone around his button-down. His fingers danced in the air as if he were conducting a concerto as he listened to the classical music playing from the radio on top of the stool in the corner.

“How’s that file coming, Shal?” Chrollo suddenly asked. The blonde on the other side of the room pauses his typing at his boss’ sudden voice before leaning his head back in his chair.

“Almost ready!” Shalnark called in his usual chirpy voice.

Chrollo hummed in response, going back to his music. Shalnark waited, whispering “c’mon” repeatedly under his breath impatiently for the loading bar on the screen to finish. Finally, a popup appeared that said complete.

“Boss, it’s done.” 

Chrollo slowly opened his eyes, his gaze focused on the ceiling as gravity made his hair hang behind him. He slowly sat up straight, stretching his limbs as he rose from the loveseat’s cushions. He walked towards Shalnark, sticking one hand in his pocket as the other rubbed the back of his neck to relieve the tension built there.

“What did you find?” He asked as he came behind Shalnark, leaning his head down with excited eyes to see the computer screen. Shalnark started typing rapidly before a profile popped up.

“Let’s see, her file says that she got in this morning and is currently staying at the Hunter's hotel. She has a party scheduled in a few hours that she’s hosting ⎯ It’s to celebrate the launch of her latest fashion line.”

“Think I can make it?” Chrollo asked while briefly glancing at him, and Shalnark tapped his chin while trailing his eyes to the side.

“Well, it is on the other side of town, plus it’s a fancy event meaning you’d have to dress appropriately, and there's bound to be a lot of people there since she’s pretty popular. So in conclusion, I’d say it’s possible, you might have to break the speed limit though.”

“I believe I can manage that.” Chrollo nodded with a smirk, lazily stretching his arms in front of him as he clasped his hands together.

“I also should mention that it’s invite only, so you may have to steal someone’s identity to get in.”

Chrollo yawned in disinterest. “Can you print me an ID real fast for a guest?”

Shalnark nodded. “Yeah, just give me a minute.”

Chrollo was always fascinated with Shalnark’s skills. And he watched with humorous eyes at how easy it was to get his hands on an ID that did not belong to him.

“Alright, here you go.” Shalnark handed him the plastic card and Chrollo thanked him.

“Well, I’ll be on my way,” Chrollo said, saluting as he walked out of the motel room he was in. 

“Good luck!” Shalnark shouted as Chrollo left, but he didn’t need to wish it because Chrollo always got what he wanted, and he currently had his eyes set on you.

⎯ 🕸

Shalnark was right about there being a lot of people here tonight. 

Chrollo whistled under his breath as he made his way into the hotel’s foyer. The guests all looked to be pretentious snobs showcasing phony smiles. Chrollo humorously upturned his lips to fit into the crowd around him. What Shalnark forgot to mention was that it was a masquerade party that was being hosted tonight. Chrollo's eyes were covered in a black, studded design and his hand twirled the stick it was attached to between his fingertips.

“Vincent Yoshino.” Chrollo read the fake name on the ID out loud, raising his eyebrow in consideration with a head tilt. “Has a nice ring to it, I suppose.”

He walked further into the building, taking note of how the people were mingling. He checked his watch, 5 more minutes until the party began. He could take this opportunity to quickly scope out the layout of the first floor, maybe he’d go right now while he still had time to spare. As Chrollo reasoned with his thoughts, he was unaware of the Louboutins that were marching in his direction.

“Hello, handsome.” 

Chrollo paused, glancing beside him to see a tall woman. She had tanned skin, a flawless bob, and blinding crimson lipstick. The dress she wore was nice as well, hugging her figure as she walked closer to Chrollo.

“Good evening.” Chrollo politely responded, nodding his head with a grin.

“Haven’t seen you here before,” She drawled, giving him a once over with a smirk. “Would’ve remembered a catch such as you.”

Chrollo chuckled, mentally wishing that this woman would find someone else to bother.

“Well, I typically don’t like showing my face at large events. I am not a fan of socializing with others, you see.”

Take the hint, Chrollo thought to himself tiredly.

The woman eyed him ravenously before extending her hand.

“My name is Chiyo Hano, but everyone calls me Chi-Chi.” She said and Chrollo remembered reading her file on his way here as well. She was a very famous model, known for her sculpted face. 

Chrollo grabbed her hand, shaking it softly. “Vincent Yoshino, nice to meet you.”

The party was beginning to start, and Chrollo took that as his chance to slip away. He walked in, and he saw you standing above the banister, smiling largely while waving at your incoming guests.

Chrollo smirked and effortlessly grabbed a drink from the waiter's platter as he passed him.

Let the games begin.

[hookhausenschips]

Whispered Intentions

Ch.1 of The Game Of Seduction

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Summary: At a glamorous charity gala, mob boss Lando Norris encounters Y/N, a captivating and enigmatic woman who disrupts his control with her fearless charm. Their meeting sets the stage for a dangerous game of power, seduction, and hidden motives.

Warnings: Manipulation, Deception, Power Dynamics, Sexual Tension, Psychological Tension, Mature Themes

WC: 2.1k

17+

Taglists

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

The charity gala was a spectacle of wealth and shadowed power. Beneath the golden glow of crystal chandeliers, the elite mingled—mob bosses masquerading as philanthropists, business tycoons laundering their riches, and politicians exchanging favors with quiet handshakes. Conversations were murmurs of veiled threats and promises, the kind of deals that could move markets or topple governments.

At the center of it all stood Lando Norris, the newly crowned leader of the McLaren Mob Family.

Lando carried himself with a calm authority that demanded respect. His midnight-blue suit was immaculately tailored, its sharp lines emphasizing his slim but commanding build. The soft curls of his infamous mullet rested casually along the nape of his neck, a style that shouldn’t have worked but somehow added to his mystique. With a crystal tumbler of bourbon in hand, he exuded an effortless magnetism, his every move calculated yet unhurried.

The room was his, and he knew it.

But when she walked in, even Lando couldn’t deny the shift in the atmosphere.

---

Lando’s POV

I didn’t see her at first.

The room was filled with the usual crowd—men trying to act more powerful than they were, women hoping to catch the eye of someone important. All of them, predictable. Forgettable.

Then she walked in.

I caught a glimpse of green first, a flash of emerald against the subdued tones of tuxedos and evening gowns. The dress clung to her curves like it was made for her, shimmering with every subtle sway of her hips. Her skin, rich and smooth like polished mahogany, glowed under the chandeliers, and her hair—jet-black curls swept to one side—framed her face perfectly.

I couldn’t look away.

Who the hell is that?

My grip on my glass tightened as I watched her glide through the crowd. She was unlike anyone else in the room. Where the other women fawned and flitted, their presence ornamental at best, she was electric. Every step she took seemed deliberate, her gaze calculated.

She didn’t belong here—or maybe that was the point.

It wasn’t just her beauty, though that was impossible to ignore. It was the way she carried herself as if the world bent around her will. The other men in the room noticed her too, their attention blatant, but she dismissed them with the slightest tilt of her chin. I had seen countless women try to get his attention, but this one wasn’t trying at all.

And yet, she had it entirely.

She didn’t scan the room like most people, trying to figure out who mattered and who didn’t. No, she moved like she already knew she was the most important person here. And the way people turned to watch her... they might have agreed.

Then her eyes met mine.

Dark, piercing, and unreadable. She didn’t smile right away. Instead, she studied me like she was deciding something.

I tipped my glass to my lips to cover the flicker of unease that ran through me. For a split second, I felt like I was the one being observed.

Then she smiled, slow and deliberate, and started walking toward me.

---

Y/N’s POV

The room was a stage, and every player was already in character.

I spotted Lando immediately. He wasn’t hard to find. He stood near the bar, effortlessly commanding the room with his presence. The pictures I’d seen of him didn’t capture the full picture—the sharpness of his jawline, the casual confidence in the way he held himself. And the infamous curly mullet? Somehow, it worked. It shouldn’t have, but it did.

I let my gaze linger on him for a moment longer, just enough to make sure he noticed. Men like him loved being noticed, but they hated feeling studied. It was a balance, one I’d perfected.

The emerald gown was a weapon, just like the bold red lipstick and the diamond cuff that glittered on my wrist. I’d chosen it all with precision. Tonight, I wasn’t just here to seduce Lando Norris. I was here to dismantle him.

I began moving toward him, my steps slow, deliberate. The crowd parted without me needing to ask, their gazes trailing me like whispers. I didn’t acknowledge them. My focus was entirely on the man watching me with a sharp, unreadable expression.

“Mr. Norris,” I said when I reached him, extending my hand. My voice was smooth, velvety, as though this was the most natural moment in the world.

His eyes flicked to my hand, then back to my face. For a moment, he didn’t move, and I wondered if he would refuse. Then he reached out, his grip firm and warm against my skin.

“Y/N,” I offered, letting my name roll off my tongue like a secret.

“Y/N...” he repeated, his voice low, almost testing the name. “And your last name?”

“Just Y/N,” I replied, my lips curving into a faint smile.

His brow arched slightly, the first crack in his otherwise unreadable expression. “Intriguing.”

“Not as intriguing as you,” I said lightly, releasing his hand but not the tension between us.

---

Lando’s POV

She was fearless. Most people, even the bold ones, had some tell—nervous hands, a flicker in their gaze, something. But not her. She was poised, calm, like this was her gala and not mine.

“What brings you here?” I asked, keeping my tone polite but cool.

“Curiosity,” she said. Her lips quirked into a faint smile, the kind that didn’t reach her eyes. “And the promise of an unforgettable host. I must say, you don’t disappoint.”

Flattery, but not the usual kind. It wasn’t heavy-handed or desperate. If anything, she said it like she didn’t care whether I believed her or not.

I leaned in slightly, enough to close the distance but not enough to touch her. “You don’t seem like the type to come to an event like this just for curiosity.”

She didn’t flinch. Instead, her smile widened, and she tilted her head as if considering me. “No, I suppose I don’t.”

It was maddening. Every question I asked, she answered without actually giving anything away.

“Are you always this forward?” I asked, my voice dropping lower.

“Only when it’s worth it,” she replied smoothly, her gaze locking with mine.

I felt a flicker of something I hadn’t felt in years—unease. She was too calm, too composed. But damn if I didn’t want to know more.

Before I could press her further, she stepped back, her curls brushing against her bare shoulder as she turned. “It was lovely meeting you, Mr. Norris. Perhaps we’ll speak again.”

And just like that, she was gone.

---

Y/N’s POV

I felt his eyes on me as I walked away, burning into my back like a physical weight. I kept my movements steady, controlled, but my pulse thrummed beneath my skin.

This was the first step—a small victory in a much larger game. But I couldn’t deny the flicker of something unexpected. He was sharp. Sharper than I anticipated. And the intensity of his gaze, the way he seemed to see more than he let on, had left me unsettled.

I hated it.

The mission came first. It always came first. But the way he looked at me, like he was unraveling me even as I tried to unravel him... it made me want to play this game a little longer than I should.

---

Lando’s POV

She’s dangerous.

That was my first thought as I watched her disappear into the crowd. I didn’t know who she was or what she wanted, but I knew this much—she wasn’t here by chance.

There was something about her. The way she carried herself, the way her eyes held mine like a challenge. She wasn’t scared of me, and that was rare.

I didn’t trust her. I couldn’t.

But as I tipped my glass back and let the bourbon burn down my throat, I couldn’t deny the other thought running through my head.

I wanted to see her again.

The bourbon didn’t do a damn thing to settle the unease she’d left behind.

I was used to people playing games around me. Men schemed to gain favor, women fawned to get closer, and everyone always wanted something. It came with the job. Hell, it came with the name. But her? She didn’t fit into any of those boxes.

She didn’t want my approval. She didn’t need my validation. And somehow, that made her the most dangerous person in the room.

I leaned against the bar, pretending to survey the crowd, but my attention kept drifting to her. She was moving through the gala like she owned it, smiling at strangers, exchanging words I couldn’t hear. She laughed once, a soft sound that seemed effortless but made my chest tighten.

What was her game?

She’d disarmed me with that dress, that smile, those damn red lips that still lingered in my mind. But it wasn’t just the surface—she was clever. Too clever. The way she parried my questions, the subtle way she prodded at my defenses... it felt like I’d walked into a trap and hadn’t even realized it.

No one had made me feel like that in years.

I set my glass down harder than I intended, the sound drawing the bartender’s attention. I waved him off, keeping my eyes on her. She was talking to a group now, her hand resting lightly on the arm of some wealthy politician I didn’t care to remember. Her body language was relaxed, her smile easy.

She was working them. Just like she was working me.

---

Lando’s jaw tightened as he watched her. To anyone else, she seemed nothing more than an enchanting stranger. But he knew better. He had to.

Her calculated movements, the way she had studied him during their conversation—it wasn’t just casual curiosity. She was too deliberate. Too perfect.

But that was the problem.

Despite all the warning bells ringing in his head, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Her confidence, her quick wit, the way she stood toe-to-toe with him without so much as flinching. For the first time in a long time, someone had gotten under his skin.

He hated it. And yet, he couldn’t look away.

---

Y/N’s POV

I could feel his eyes on me again, as sharp and heavy as the blade hidden under my dress.

Good.

This was the part of the game I thrived in—the tension, the dance of pushing and pulling without revealing too much. Lando Norris wasn’t the first powerful man I’d faced, but he was the first to make me second-guess myself.

I hated that.

I’d done my research. He was smart, careful, calculated. A man like him didn’t get to where he was by being easy to manipulate. And yet, there was something about him that surprised me.

He didn’t act the way I expected. He didn’t flaunt his power, didn’t preen like most mob bosses. Instead, he carried it quietly, like it was woven into his very being. It was... unsettling.

And worse, it was intriguing.

I forced myself to focus, to push past the little voice in the back of my mind whispering that this was dangerous. That he was dangerous.

I couldn’t afford distractions. Not now. Not when I was so close to the first step in unraveling him.

---

Lando’s POV

There was something else about her. Something I couldn’t shake.

It wasn’t just the way she moved, though that was enough to drive any man insane. It was the way she looked at me. Like she already knew every secret I’d ever tried to bury.

No one looked at me like that.

I should’ve been angry. Hell, I should’ve had someone follow her out of the gala to see who she really was. But I couldn’t bring myself to act. Not yet.

Because for the first time, I wasn’t sure I was the one holding all the cards.

And that terrified me.

---

As the night wore on, Lando found himself returning to the same questions over and over again.

Who was she?

What did she want?

And why the hell did it feel like she was toying with him when it should’ve been the other way around?

From across the room, Y/N caught his eye again. Her lips curved into a small, knowing smile before she turned away, leaving him with nothing but the taste of his own uncertainty.

It was a game, no doubt about it. But as Lando stood there, watching her disappear into the crowd like smoke, one thought gnawed at the edges of his mind.

What if he was the one being played?

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Series Taglist: @laptime-deleted

LN4 Taglist: @esserenorris, @tallrock35, @yourbane, @lightdragonrayne, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @ilivbullyingjeongin, @ggaslyp1, @icecoldtires, @cmleitora, @cheyennep3107, @d3kstar, @fadingcloudballoon-blog, @same1995, @hinamesgigantica, @laptime-deleted

[sakkiichi]

YOU’RE A CRISIS OF MY FAITH.

You meet him under the brightness of ballroom lights and the vibrant colors of his mask. However, is it a good idea to let yourself be lead by infatuation?

feat. Childe, Kaeya, Kaedehara Kazuha, Lyney, Albedo x gn! reader.

cw/genre: romance, fluff, slight angst in kazuha’s and lyney’s, royal masquerade au. reader wears a dress, mildly suggestive allusions on childe’s (very soft).

i would like to dedicate childe, kaeya and albedo’s part to my dearest @bunny-rambles <3 albedo’s part is dedicated to the sweetest @ssilversiren too !

if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !

✧ CHILDE

Crossed arms over his chest and a sharp edged smile peeking from underneath his mask. The prince is certainly amused, and not precisely by this gathering he himself hosted.

It’s this feeling. Being unknown; just another face amidst the ebb and flow of a sea of profiles.

What would it be like, to converse with others, with them being none the wiser about his royal status?

Running a hand through his ruddy locks, Childe leans off the wall, something, or rather, someone having caught his attention.

The person is standing on the opposite corner of the room, their skirts as if weaved out of seafoam and tides, cascading to the floor in silky waves of sky. They’re alone, the ornamented wall behind them making them look as an extension of it, a painting without frame; for they stare longingly at the swaying crowd, their frame still, anchored, yet without a harbor.

“Fancy a dance?” A voice you swear you have heard somewhere before asks, causing you to turn around.

Striking sapphire eyes lock with yours, the cheeky smile he sports weakening your knees for a second. He’s dressed finely, in white and red, silver accents decorating the lapels and shoulders of his jacket, matching with the scarlet mask partially concealing the constellations of freckles dusting his handsome face.

You swear you know him. But you don’t at the same time; a crystalline pond at night, argent starlight swallowed by the depths of its abyss.

“Quite the bold request, considering you haven’t even introduced yourself, don’t you think?” You prompt, the stranger’s magnetizing grin drawing one of your own from your painted lips.

“Oh, come on, humor me?” He pouts, drops of cobalt glinting in the previously dull ocean patches of his gaze.

“Hm,” you ponder, bringing a finger to your chin. “How about you give me your name first?” You suggest, tone taking on a playful lilt. He watches the light quality of your dress, sweeping around you, tendrils of a spring wrapped around the delicate curves of your figure.

“A name, huh?” He smirks, and no matter how much you know it’s a bad idea, you find yourself hoping to call his name often in the future.

He knows what he’s about to reveal is an equally bad idea as you swimming in the currents of his pull, and still, he finds himself uttering the appellative he hasn’t heard in ages.

“Ajax. My name.” He whispers, those lips that only promise trouble brushing the shell of your ear.

You smile, your stare glinting not unlike the azurite shimmer that decorates your disguise.

“Very well, Ajax,” you draw out the last word, your voice directing the incognito royal’s heart wildly against his ribcage. “Come and find me.” Is the lingering echo of your words, a seashell’s melody, as Childe watches shades of aquamarine mingling with the crowd.

Perhaps this was not a good choice; but maybe you like the rush that comes with wishing he asks your name, with wishing his hand catches yours.

From the corner of your eye, you spot a wisp of red as you turn a corner down the busy corridors of the palace. You certainly wouldn’t mind if you happened to take Ajax’s half cape off later tonight.

✧ KAEYA

Rows upon rows of glinting masks and flashy clothing fill the luxurious room, the space practically painted in molten gold.

If anyone were to ask you, however, you’d reply this place is hell. The palace’s corridors are labyrinthine as it is, twisting endlessly, the frozen images hanging on their walls unchanging to your widened eyes.

And certainly, the shoves and pushes of a too excited crowd are not helping your mood at all. Exasperated, you grunt for the thousandth time, bunching up the skirts of your lacy white dress, determined to elbow and step your way to the damned ballroom.

Alas, the distant stars had other plans for you tonight.

Just as you were going to decidedly advance a particularly rowdy crowd, a force collides with you from behind, sending you and your unstable high heels against the polished tiled floor.

Except when the impact comes, it is not hard at all.

“My, a beauty like you should be more careful to watch where they’re going.”

You rise your gaze to meet the owner of that smooth teasing voice.

Hair weaved of icicles at midnight, braided to one side, falling over the spotless bronze skin of the stranger’s pretty face. His eyes, or rather, his visible eye, is chilly blue, the biting touch of a sunny morning after a snowstorm. And, unlike the rest of the guests, he’s not wearing a mask. He doesn’t need one either, his mystery-exuding aura, paired with the eyepatch on his right eye, somehow disguise enough.

You clear your throat, trying to act as if you hadn’t been blatantly staring at the man in front of you.

“Why, thanks.” You let out, tone crisp. “I was watching, but apparently someone with no manners wasn’t.” You add, with disdain, glaring at the advancing multitude.

“I don’t disagree.” The enigmatic stranger smiles, a sliver of moon, icy eyes following over your figure as you straighten your skirt.

Then he hums, the crescent of his sultry lips morphing into a smirk.

“Why don’t I accompany you for a while?” He offers his arm to you. “I was just leaving, but seems I’ve found a reason to stay, at least for a while…”

You match his smirk, conflicted at how attracted you don’t want to admit you are to this man.

“Oh? Does it outweigh the reason you were planning on leaving for?”

“I’ll take the risk to find out.” He grins, looping his arm with yours.

In silence interrupted by the joyous multitude, you make your way to the ballroom. It’s odd, the way you feel comfortable next to him, despite secrets and starry nights concealing the truth of his nature. You don’t even know his name…

“Call me Kaeya, by the way.” He murmurs, as if reading your thoughts, his tan hand, adorned in gold and midnight, lacing with one of yours, his other around your waist.

“Pleased to meet you, Kaeya.” You find yourself whispering back, entranced by the mysteries frozen in that shady stare of his.

Perhaps this is wrong, to let your heart out in the falling snowflakes around the flickering spark of this igniting infatuation, and yet, maybe just this once, you feel like you can fly with wings made of ice under a blazing sun.

You don’t regret it. Not when you know you’ll dream of Kaeya’s voice for nights on end. Not when he twirls you around the room, a flurry of snowy clouds outlined by gilded twilight. Not when he pulls you aside, hiding both of you into an alcove, his smooth hand pressed against your mouth, as some guards pass asking for “the prince”.

He definitely looks like one, you think. You don’t have time to dwell on iit as you both run off, hands still laced, into a narrow torch-lit corridor, the night air beckoning you towards the exit.

Danger had never felt so right.

✧ KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

You should have known better.

Better than to trust that bastard.

The nobleman that was supposed to be your date tonight.

It’s not like he didn’t show up, oh, he did alright.

You wish he hadn’t.

Seeing that asshole arm in arm with someone else makes your blood boil, a cold, cruel anger seeping into your bones, its chill enough to burn white-hot.

And yes, perhaps stomping out to the too pretty rose garden was a childish decision, but maybe it was you just exercising self control.

Best to brood than let your tempestuous wrath strike the whole place down.

Storms were only beautiful from a distance, after all.

You heavily sigh, removing the bejeweled mask covering the upper half of your face.

No point in keeping it now, you observe, running a thumb over the faux diamonds embedded over the indigo surface.

How ironic, you laugh, humorless, for your mask to look like a bright starry sky, when all you see the moment you rise your gaze heavenward are dark clouds gathering.

“Pardon my intrusion,” a pleasingly gentle voice begins, just as you were plucking the fading petals of a dying rose, “but are you not feeling up to joining the ball?”

Suddenly, the gloomy night dyes moonlit and crimson: twin pools of sunset regard you, a soft flame, soothingly warm in the chill of the inauspicious night; threads of starlight seem to constitute the man’s hair, almost angel-like in the way it frames his candid face, in the tender way the locks fall over his shoulder, tied in a bright red ribbon, akin to a bouquet of lily of the valleys. Like you, it seems he has discarded his mask, a splash of vermillion held in between svelte fingers wrapped in pale silk.

You greet him with a smile, the previous gales of fury receding, replaced little by little by the nurturing caress of an early autumn wind through maple leaves.

“I could ask you the same question.” You offer, turning your body in his direction, the faint touch of moonlit clouds brushing against your skin.

He shakes his head, tendrils of silver swaying with his movement.

“Let’s just say I prefer the peaceful nature of the outdoors.” He chuckles, sincere, the sound almost transparent in its quality, tiny ripples by a dawn breeze over a mirror-like stream. Then, he tilts his head to the side, silken strands caressing the smoothness of his cheek in ways you know you shouldn’t be dreaming of so soon. “However, I do believe it could prove romantically irresponsible of me to deny someone else this dance, no?” He asks, extending a hand to you.

And you know you shouldn’t feel your face heating up at the protruding tendons over the callous softness of his skin.

“My name is Kaedehara Kazuha,” he finally introduces himself.

Kazuha. You can’t quite tell just yet why you somehow wish that to be forever the name on your lips, nor do you know yet why you find your eyes naturally drifting off to every lash and diminutive freckle so temptingly touching his cheeks.

You don’t know if it’s right either, to take this leap of faith. What if the jump ends in you downfall? Again.

But what if you could swim in a pool of starlight instead? Is the voice whispering in verse into your ear, when you find one of your hands entwined with Kazuha’s, the other resting over the shoulder of his black and red suit jacket.

“It is my pleasure to meet you, Kazuha.” You find yourself smiling back, before introducing yourself.

As your dance partner twirls you around, the warmth of his hand lingering on the small of your back, the overcast skies seem to part. Like a wrinkle in the mundanity of human life, endless sparkling stars cast their gaze over you two, even their moon coming out to take a peek into the couple’s hearts yearning for the fated romance to be.

Splashes of cotton candy pink and cherry crimson sweetly bloom under the argent lights of the enchanted night, even the wilting rose you had been tampering with earlier dyeing in shades of life anew.

Though, to you, in this moment, the only life that matters is the one held in Kazuha’s autumn stare, his tenderness tethering you to the gentle comfort of your head resting against his heart.

Maybe it had already started beating for you, much like yours.

Perhaps some charms begun at midnight.

✧ LYNEY

Throngs of people gather around the Opera Epiclese building and yet, you had never felt so alone.

A sinking feeling settles in your heavy heart, as you pat your now lackluster gown, check your purse, only to come up empty handed.

Your ticket for today’s masquerade ball, seemingly vanished.

Defeated, you sigh, turning on your heel.

What use will be lingering around, with no way to get into the opera house anyway? Things couldn’t have turned out worse.

Or so you thought.

For, seconds later, you would find yourself tripping over the hem of your long dress, ripping it in the process, one of your delicate high heeled shoes slipping off, clattering to the concrete ground, a few feet away from you.

The ruby tear embedded on your mask seems like a mockery right now, salty crystalline tracks streaming down your cheeks.

Luckily, no one will pay you any mind and you’ll save yourself the embarrassment, you try to console yourself.

Alas, the fates didn’t even want to concede you that small salvation.

“Are you alright?” a pleasant voice questions, causing for you to turn around.

And when you do, the man standing right before you is not unlike a spell himself. Violet eyes concealing the secrets of a lifetime spent on the edge of light and shadows regard you through his cat mask, the disguise leaving a maroon tear-shaped mark visible on his cheek, similar to the one on your own mask; his top hat is decorated in shades of rose and night, a purple ribbon around it, its hue almost in tune with the magic of his gaze. Silvery strands sweep over the stranger’s pale visage, slightly ruffled in the ebb and flow of the night’s balmy breeze. And in his hand, he’s holding the fine shoe that caused your fall.

With your face burning in shame, you look to one side, mumbling an affirmative response. You can only be grateful for the crowds starting to dissipate, leaving you and this boy mostly alone.

Kneeling, he carefully slips the shoe on your bare foot.

“Are you sure about that?” He prompts further, helping you up. “You look dressed for today’s ball, however, you were heading in the opposite direction…”

Rubbing at your face, you hang your head low.

“About that… I’m not going anymore…”

“Is that so?” He tilts his head to the side, gaze of iris settling on the torn skirts of your attire.

“I just… it’s embarrassing…” You admit. “I somehow lost my ticket to enter… and well, then I fell, and now besides not having the means to get in, there is no way I look presentable for the occasion anyway…” You chuckle, humorless.

He hums. Then:

“If I may be so bold, I do believe you look lovely.” The mysterious man compliments you, snapping his fingers.

You follow his gaze to your outfit. And when you take it in, your eyes widen. Where there used to be a tear on the fabric, now it’s seamlessly weaved together, sweeping over the nightlit cobblestones. And not only that, but its shade is an even more vibrant shade of carmine now, small sparkly flecks catching the silvery ripples of Fountain of Lucine.

“Wha- Thank you…” You breathe, awestruck, admiring the revived color of your clothes.

“My pleasure.” The magician chirps, with a wink. “Now, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the ball? It’s starting soon, and I would be very happy if you said yes.”

“I mean… I would love to, but my pass is gone…” You answer, regret lacing your tone.

“Hmm…” He muses, holding his chin in between two fingers. “Can I ask you to look closely now?” He pulls out his ticket, and right there, in the blink of an eye, he slides a second pass from behind the first one.

You gasp, eliciting a soft laugh from him.

“How about now? May I, Lyney, have the pleasure to join you for the night?” He proposes, bowing.

Smiling gratefully, you take his arm, wonderstruck still.

Together, you make your way towards the Opera Epliclese, the tickets safely held in Lyney’s free hand.

When you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the clear surface of the fountain’s waters, a Rainbow Rose adorns your hair.

The magician’s doing, no doubt.

You silently thank Lyney with a smile, and he believes no beam of moon could ever hold a candle to the sight of you.

✧ ALBEDO

Above the hall’s music, an acute faraway sound pulls you out of the forest of masked faces.

The spacious room is lit in gold, luxurious lamps and chandeliers focused on a crowd disguised in velvets and lace.

But, that melody. You can’t quite get it out of your head. You’ve been hearing it all evening, every now and then.

Akin to a gelid river, cutting through blocks of stone-hard ice, making your every hair stand on end when its notes tantalize you with the promise of the gilded reflections of northern lights over the stream’s surface.

You can’t ignore it any further, the flames dancing from ornate candles against the walls seem to murmur.

And even though the impending rushed beat of your heart may be painting danger red all over this possibility, you decide to ignore it, listening to the unknown song’s voice, beckoning you out of the ballroom.

Flecks of gold seem to hang in the air as you make your way through twisting ample corridors, the otherworldly sound welcoming you through a set of double doors, their wood snow white, their handles, crystal.

When you push them open, frozen air appears to settle all around you. It is not unpleasant, though.

In the same way, even though the music has just stopped, the sight before you is not unpleasant either in the slightest.

Amidst the room, a blonde man stands. His gaze, resembling underwater lights at dawn, is set on you. A white shirt with blue and golden accents falls perfectly against his frame.

You don’t miss the way his sleeves are rolled up, nor the tiny multicolored splashes in them.

Which brings you to take in the space around you.

A multitude of paintings line every wall: landscapes of somewhere you can only dream of stepping into; portraits of people you have never met, or have you, in the distance of sweet sleep?; abstract brushstrokes, constituting colors you had never seen before, that you know you won’t see anywhere else.

“Hello,” a soft voice that can only belong to the man in the room utters. “I am Albedo, the court’s alchemist, how may I be of assistance?”

You clear your throat, stammering an apology. He smiles, that sunny sky gaze never leaving you.

“I-I uh… I just heard music and… it seemed to come from here… I apologize for barging in so rudely.”

He gives you a sweet smile. You wonder whether he’s a prince, instead of an alchemist.

“Not at all. Music, you say?” He asks, bringing close to his lips the flute he had been holding. “Did it sound anything like this, perhaps?” Albedo starts to play, notes filling the chamber, colorful blossoms flourishing along snow-covered plains.

You get lost in the sound. In the ethereal aura the prince-like alchemist exudes. He’s as magnetic and entrancing as the melody he plays. Unconsciously, you’ve started to sway, and perhaps a part of you wishes this song was a gift for your ears alone.

At some point, the symphony stops, notes of it, still lingering in the crispness of the atmosphere, despite the closed windows.

“Beautiful.” He utters, tender, the fall of snowflakes atop your open palms.

Warmth creeps up your neck when he steps closer to you, his elegant hands hovering close to your face, to your silver mask.

“May I?” His lips say, rose-colored in the careful lilt of his tone.

Nodding is all the answer you can manage, Albedo’s cool fingertips grazing the side of your cheek.

“Yes, lovely.” He repeats, studying the lines of your mask-free face, the wave of your hair, the sparkles in your wide eyed gaze.

You wonder if he’s ever looked into a mirror, because if he’s presenting you these compliments, no words could describe how utterly breathtaking you think he is.

“Would you allow me to paint you?” Is the question you find yourself nodding to as well.

Beneath the golden lighting of fabricated starlight and with the paradoxically warm caress of Albedo’s cool touch when his hands position you for his portrait, you enter a labyrinth of emotions you only want to brave deeper.

What lies beneath the sunlit layer of snow clinging to Albedo’s every movement?

Perhaps tonight, as he renders you in watercolors, you have already imprinted yourself in his golden encased heart.

[cleo-fox]

As the Clock Strikes Midnight - Part II

Series Masterlist Chapter Summary: In which you sneak into a masquerade. Chapter Warnings: Loki being an absolutely shameless flirt, some kissing, lots of banter.

Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

It’s a strange feeling, walking into the masquerade in your mother’s dress. You’ve thought about this so many times that parts of it feel oddly surreal, like you’ve somehow wandered into a memory you’ve forgotten you had. 

You’re not entirely prepared to feel so visible. Your dress is a shade or two too fine to be owned by a servant, so most people assume that you’re a noble—when a footman calls you “my lady,” you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from correcting him. People smile and incline their heads slightly, whereas before their gazes would simply slide right past you. You find that you have to remind yourself to take slow and deep breaths. Inhale, exhale. Just breathe.

You’d caught glimpses of the ballroom before, but it, too, feels different now that you’re actually here as a guest. Garlands of exotic flowers drape from the walls and ceilings along with strands of crystals and colored glass beads that sparkle like diamonds when they catch the light. The remnants of the feast that you helped prepare are a rainbow of colors that seem grander than they had in the kitchens. Even the cakes—the same ones that you’d barely finished icing before Anja shooed you away—even they seem a little extraordinary.

People are dancing, a glittering array of fabrics, sequins, and masks swaying in time to music played by a small orchestra. You keep to the edge of the room, taking in the sights, keeping a weather eye out for Fritjof. You’re content to watch the crowd for a while—you’re too nervous to eat and dancing seems similarly risky. It’s enough just to be here, wearing your mother’s dress and pretending that you’re someone who you used to be. 

You’re not sure when all the noise and color starts to feel a bit too much, just that your focus on your breathing suddenly isn’t doing enough to combat the tightness around your ribs that squeezes at your lungs. It’s been so long since you’ve attended an event like this that you’ve forgotten how claustrophobic it can become. The room is just a degree or two too warm and the mingling smell of the food, sweat, and perfume is starting to feel suffocating. You’re not used to people noticing you and every pair of eyes that lands on you squeezes your ribs just a little more and you can feel beads of sweat beginning to gather at your temples and down the column of your spine. You catch a glimpse of Fritjof far away in the crowd—

Air. You need air.

The ballroom looks out onto the palace gardens and winter lingers enough to discourage most people from venturing outside, so that is where you decide to go. It doesn’t take much effort to slip out the door unnoticed and the moment you step outside, it’s a relief. You can still hear the rumble of voices and the swell of music, but it’s more manageable, especially with the balm of the night air so blessedly cool on your cheeks. The tightness around your ribs loosens and the sweat on your brow and spine cools and suddenly you can breathe without feeling like you’re about to choke.

There’s a circle of benches surrounding a fountain not far down the garden path and you make your way to one of them, sitting down heavily. The chill of the stone beneath you is soothing, anchoring you more firmly in the moment and easing the trembling in your arms and legs until you feel more like yourself. You take a few deep breaths. After a moment, a weak, shaky laugh falls from your lips.

“Norns, this was a terrible idea,” you say. “I never should have come.”

“Come now. It can’t be all that bad.”

Your heart leaps wildly into your throat at the sound of another voice and belatedly, you realize that there is a figure standing just in the shadow of the empty fountain, easy enough to miss if you’re not paying attention—which of course, you haven’t been.

The air leaves your lungs when you realize who it is. He wears a mask, but there is no mistaking that buttery smooth voice, those emerald green eyes, or the sardonic tilt of his lips. 

Your legs feel as steady as overcooked noodles, but you scramble to your feet anyway. “I beg your pardon, your highness,” you say, dipping into a curtsy. “I didn’t realize anyone was out here.”

His lips curl into a catlike smile as he approaches you. “Isn’t the point of a masquerade that you’re not supposed to know who I am?”

The prince is as imposing as he ever is, but there’s something about the protection of the mask, the glamor of your dress, the crispness of the night air, and the wild and giddy relief of being away from all those people that makes you feel like you can be yourself. Besides, it's not like he knows who you are—he’s only seen you in the dim light of the library; surely the moonlit garden will provide him with no further clues.

“Well, either I am very clever or you are very obvious,” you say. “I’ll leave it to you to decide.”

He chuckles quietly and you can’t help but feel rather pleased with yourself. “And tell me, what is a very clever lady doing hiding in the gardens during the biggest event of the year?”

“I should ask the same of you, your highness.”

He grins. “Ah, but I asked first, my lady.”

You tilt your head to the side. “You act as though you are expecting something scandalous of me.”

“You must admit the circumstances suggest that you have a good story,” he says.

You laugh, partly because he has no notion of how ridiculous your circumstances actually are. “There could be any number of unexciting reasons why I’m out here.”

He folds his arms across his chest, smirking. “Name one.”

“Perhaps I don’t know how to dance.”

“Doubtful. Even if you didn’t, I should think there would be a score of gentlemen eager to show you. Try again.”

“Perhaps I don’t know how to dance and I am very shy.”

He chuckles, a low throaty sound that makes your spine tingle. “If you were very shy, I think you would have taken your leave of me almost immediately.”

“Perhaps I am all of those things and unfailingly polite,” you say.

“Unfailingly polite, yet here you are, skulking in the garden, hiding from your hosts.”

“And again, your highness, I am compelled to note that you are out here as well.”

“Perhaps I am looking for stragglers in order to reprimand them.”

Before you can stop yourself, you snort. “I doubt it.”

“Oh?” he says, his voice sounding lightly amused. “You would doubt a prince?”

“You do not seem like a man who concerns himself overly much with the affairs of others.” 

“You are astute, my lady.” He taps a finger against his lips and you’re fairly certain he’s raising an eyebrow underneath his mask. “But you’re trying to distract me from my question.”

You give him a coy smile. “Will you like me as well when my answer is as dull as I promised you?”

“You have my word.”

You lower your voice as though you’re sharing something scandalous. “I needed some air and a moment or two to be myself. Are you terribly disappointed now?”

“Not at all,” he says, giving you a smile that feels like a rather thrilling secret. “We have that in common.”

“Do we?” you say. “I should think you would be used to these events by now.”

“They tend to make for poor conversation,” he says. “Present company excluded.”

“You flatter me, sire.”

“I was hoping that enough flattery might convince you to tell me your name.”

You smile. “Of course not.”

Defying royalty was probably not a smart thing to do (another reason why it was perhaps wise to keep you in the kitchens), but Loki’s lips curl into another smile, like this is all a rather delightful game. “You would deny a prince a simple request?”

“Isn’t the point of a masquerade that you’re not supposed to know who I am?”

You’re using his own words against him and his smile grows even more foxlike. “But you know who I am. It seems only fair that I should know who you are.”

“Well, then, you must be very clever and guess,” you say.

“And how should I know you are telling the truth?”

You allow yourself a coquettish smile. “They call you the god of lies, do they not?”

“I see my reputation precedes me,” he says.

“You are a prince,” you say.

“That I am. And you are…?”

“Not telling you my name.” You raise your eyebrows at him. “I hope you didn’t actually think that would work.”

“Not especially,” he says. “Though I can’t help but wonder why you insist on being so mysterious.”

You grin. “You seem to forget where we are, your highness. Shall I quote you again?”

He laughs and it makes your stomach flip. “If you will not give me your name, then tell me something else about yourself.”

“Hmm.” You pause for a moment. “I am reading a very good book.”

“And what book is that?”

“The Cloistered Heart.”

He makes a face. “That drivel?”

You laugh. “I take it you are not a romantic.”

He scoffs. “I’ll have you know I’m very romantic, I simply prefer more sensible writers.”

“Like who?”

“Auber.”

You can’t help the bark of a laugh that falls from your lips. “Auber! Now I am convinced that you are not possessed of a beating heart.”

“You wound me. What fault could you possibly find in Auber?”

“He describes emotion like he is writing a technical manual.”

“His prose is a triumph of language.”

“He’s boring.”

You continue like this for a while, playfully arguing about books. His taste is quite different from yours—his interests tend to skew more toward the philosophical and dryly intellectual, which is the sort of thing that makes you want to claw your own eyes out—but you share some surprising overlap on a few notable titles. The more you talk, the more you find yourself wanting to stay, even though you shouldn't. He’s still imposing in a way that makes your heart beat a little faster, but it’s also easy to talk to him when you’re an anonymous masked noblewoman. You’re perhaps slightly too informal with him—you scoff at his bad opinions and tell him precisely what you think, but he only seems delighted by these barbs.

More concerning, though, is the fact that he is very charming and handsome and the more you talk, the more you are tempted to let this go on a little longer. You find yourself wondering what it might be like to kiss him, to run your hands through his raven dark hair.

“Is something the matter?” he says.

Your stomach drops as you realize you have been staring at him for just a second too long dwelling on the possibility of a kiss. “Forgive me, my mind wandered for a moment.”

“Am I truly that dull?” he says, sighing rather dramatically.

You breathe a quiet laugh. “You’re trying to bait me into complimenting you,” you say, giving him an arch look. “It won’t work.”

“I rather think I’m deserving of a few compliments after so many cruel blows to my ego,” he says.

“If you had better opinions on books, I would not need to strike so many cruel blows.”

“You wound me.” He is smiling as he says this.

“I rather think you enjoy such unfiltered honesty,” you say. “You could have stormed off in a huff or ordered your guards to throw me in the dungeons, yet you are still here.”

“That I am.” He looks at you for a moment and you feel as though something has changed, though you can’t quite put a finger on what. “I confess, I’ve grown rather enamored of your wit, my lady,” he says after a moment.

Oh.

You swallow. The way his gaze sweeps over you makes you quite glad for the half-dark of the garden and the shield of your mask. “You flatter me, your highness.”

“What, no witty riposte?” he says. “Are you feeling quite well?”

“I often find myself unmoored by compliments,” you say.

“I should hope so,” he says, his voice lowering and taking on a depth that makes your stomach flip. “I’m trying to charm you.”

“Oh? To what end?” You are amazed that your voice remains steady.

He takes your hand and brushes his lips against your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours. “A kiss, perhaps.”

“How very proper of you.”

The corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly. “I did say perhaps. The garden is dark and my chambers are close should a more intimate setting be agreeable.”

“Are you always so forthright in your pursuits?”

“Only when the lady is enticing.” 

You swallow. “And you find me enticing?”

There is a hunger in his eyes that you can’t help but be thrilled by. “Extremely.”

You raise an eyebrow, hoping that your voice does not betray the fact that you are trembling. “You don’t even know who I am. You could find me quite dull without my mask.”

He laughs quietly and gives you a look that conjures a dull ache between your thighs. “Would you care to make a wager? It’s nearly midnight.”

Panic cuts through your false bravado like a hot knife through butter and you raise your eyes to look at the clock tower. You’ve lost track of time—it’s five minutes to midnight.

Your first instinct is to flee and you try to do that, but Loki is quicker, his hand closing around your wrist.

“Fleeing without a farewell?” he says. “That would be terribly rude, my lady.”

You fight to tamp down the growing panic in your chest. “I’ve my reasons for not wanting to be seen here tonight.”

“Oh?” he says. “Do tell.”

Your heart is pounding. He thinks this all a game, a small obstacle on his path to seducing you. And of course you can’t tell him that the stakes are much higher, that this is a matter of being found out by a man who goes out of his way to make your life miserable, possibly a matter of being thrown in the dungeons for defying orders. Anja would probably be in trouble as well. His grip on your wrist is firm and his smile is teasing and you’re not sure how you’re going to get out of this.

Unless…

Perhaps you can play along, pretend this is all a game. It’s not certain, but it’s the only plan you have.

“I’ll make you a bargain.” The words fall out of your mouth quickly, albeit with some uncertainty. 

Perhaps it’s the slight quaver in your voice that intrigues him, or maybe it’s the lure of a bargain with a mysterious masked woman that he can’t quite resist. “Go on,” he says and you can tell he’s raising an eyebrow behind his mask.

“You let me go tonight and we let the chase go on a little longer,” you say. “You come and find me in the coming days.”

He chuckles softly and it sends a shiver up your spine. “Now why would I do that when I have you here in my clutches right now?” He pulls you closer, one hand snaking around your waist, his palm pressing lightly on your back so that there is very little space between you.

You wet your lips and try to summon your sultriest look. “Would it not make the conquest all the sweeter?”

He smirks, his voice dropping to a low purr. “And when I find you? What then, little mouse?”

“A kiss, perhaps.”

“A kiss?” he muses softly. His gaze trails over the curve of your lips and it’s all you can do not to shiver.

“Yes.”

“A kiss is a rather dangerous proposition, my lady,” he says and he’s so close that you can feel the whisper of his breath against your lips. “A kiss may stoke other...appetites.”

Despite your fear of being found out, there is part of you—a large part of you—that would gladly let him take you right here, right now in the garden if he wanted to. Instead, you summon every ounce of self-control that you have in order to ignore the heat that stretches like a panther low in your hips.

“I might be agreeable to stoking those appetites,” you say, “but you have to find me first.”

His lips twitch into a slight smile. “Your proposition is intriguing, my lady,” he says, “but I would request one small gesture of your good faith.”

He’s staring at your lips as he says this and you know without a doubt that he intends to kiss you before he lets you go. And it’s probably not a good idea, but you are inclined to allow it.

You lick your lips. “What sort of gesture?” 

He smiles and there’s time for you to draw a single, shaky breath before his lips brush ever so softly against yours.

You’ve been kissed before, but not like this. Never like this.

Loki kisses you like the world is ending and the only salvation to be found is on your lips. His movements are lazy and languid, but there’s a hunger that simmers just below the surface, promising you something more than a breathless kiss in a moonlit garden. He tastes your lips and tongue, first as though he’s tasting a fine wine and then like a man dying of thirst. His hand curls around the nape of your neck, his thumb resting in the hollow of your throat. It’s entirely proper, but something about it is so intimate that it feels like it should be scandalous. 

You try to memorize every part of this moment because after tonight, you will return to your life of drudgery. No more stolen kisses in the last days of winter, no more flirting with a prince in the moonlight. And because it has to last you the rest of your life, you give yourself fully to the sensation, kissing him back with the same intensity, your hands winding around his neck, pulling yourself closer, pressing against him in a way that borders on indecent.

You don’t want it to end.

He is the one to break the kiss, to draw back just a little, resting his forehead against yours for just a moment before taking a step back, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He’s probably only thinking of leaving you wanting more, not realizing that your little flirtation will go no further than tonight. The thought pains you just a little, but you stifle the feeling, keeping your expression neutral.

“Until we meet again, my lady,” he says.

You force a small smile. “Until then, your highness.”

With one last look at Loki, you turn and walk away, the feeling of his kiss burning on your lips.

The clock strikes midnight as you exit the garden. You turn back, half expecting to find him chasing after you. Instead, you see him standing there, a pale figure in the moonlight, his eyes still trained on where you disappeared into the darkness.

Next chapter

[natailiatulls07]

Masked Drivers

Lando Norris x Driver!Female!reader

Summary - Every year, there is a formula one masquerade ball for halloween and hooking up with a mystery man who also is your teammate isn’t something you expect this year

Warning - alcohol, hooking up, swearing, mention of Christian Horner??

A/n - I absolutely loved writing this one but I just really want to give him a hug rn, he’s really hard on himself 😕

Reader drives for McLaren

The 23 Halloween Season

-

I always loved this time of year. The warm shades of colours littering the ground, the spooky aura and most of all, the annual formula one masquerade. Every driver, engineer, team and principal was invited. Invited to spend the night hidden behind a mask with no identity until midnight, but for now just mingling with no worry for your identity.

Arriving at the venue, I was dressed in a satin blackless white mini dress matching my lace white masquerade mask. The room was filled with the loud music, currently playing 'somebody's watching me' by Rockwell.

After making my way to the bar, I noticed someone across the room. A man, half of his face covered in a black laced mask which matched his black shirt with three to four buttons undone. He was looking over my way, our eyes caught eachother but neither backed away.

"Hey Miss, what would you like?"

One of the bartenders brought my eyes away from the mystery man. "I'll have a cosmopolitan" He nodded before moving to start making the drink. I looked over back to where mystery man was sat, but he was no longer there. My eyes traveled around the crowd filled darkened room looking for him in any surrounding areas but nothing.

"Looking for me?" A husky voice called from just beside me. Only for a second, my mind thought his voice was Landos but was quick vanished when I turned. Now facing mystery man, a smirk on his face. My mouth soon replicated that smile onto myself.

"Maybe..." Unknowingly my body morphed to his, our chests facing eachother. My heeled feet between his. "So mystery man, are you having a good time?" Asking, I wanted to start up a casual converstation with him.

"Just got better...I left my friends, needed better company and I think you can provide that for me..." He pointed over to his original area, which sat around multiple people who looked to be messing around.

"I'll try my best, only for you..." My hair had moved itself forwards from behind my ears, to which he reached over to move it back. I was forever thankful that I had a mask on and that the lights were creating a purple glow on us or he would of seen the deep blushed that coated my cheeks.

"Ma'am that will be €14 please" The same bartender came back with my drink. But before I could set up a tab, the mystery man had interjected.

"Put it on my tab please" It seemed the bartender knew who this was as he didn't ask any further questions. Taking my drink from the bar, I looked up at mystery man once again.

"Thank you..." I knew I could afford the drink but if this was his form of flirting then so be it. The music soon transitioned into 'I put a spell on you' which so happened to be the fifty shades of grey version. Ironic.

"Of course gorgeous...” His large hand glazed over my waist, looking at me for consent. Nodding my head, I could feel the hand claim its spot.

“You know I don’t usually go for men I don’t know…today seems to be your lucky day” I speak, my eyes flickering between his lips and deep eyes.

“Well I can reassure you, I feel lucky…” His lips curved into a cheeky smirk. “You know white suits you especially with those red lips..." His eyes were flickering from my lips to my eyes and back to my lips. I had completely forgotten the red lipstick I had put on.

"Is that so?" Tilting my head to the side, a smirk still on both of our faces. "I think they need fixing...coming with?" I had an idea and I was hoping it would work out. Taking his hand in mine, I had the cosmo in my other hand. Leading him through to one of the secluded hallways.

"I gladly help you darling..." He was willing to be lead through the large crowds. Once we arrived to a hidden hallway, my back came in contact with the cold walls. Pulling his shirt towards me, our lips crashed into eachother, a passionate kiss being enlighted.

After a few seconds we pulled apart to breath, I took this chance to place my drink on a nearby sidetable before my hands started to play with the hairs at the back of his neck. And once again, our lips collided. This time though became a full blown makeout.

His lips tasted like peppermint, it was fresh. Every time we would pull apart, I would be craving and fighting for more, it was just like a force pulling me in.

-

We had no clue how long we had been enjoying the comfort of eachothers lips, before we heard someone speak over the music.

"Everyone! It is almost time for the reveal, the reveal of identities of each and everyone of you!" Looking up at the mystery man, I saw him looking back up at me. Only then did I notice the blues of his eyes, quickly becoming captivated by them once again.

He took my hand, leading us back to the main room. I was sure that my lips were swollen and the red lipstick had been smeared. His lips were swollen and also had traces of my lipstick here and there.

We had arrived back to the main room when they all started the countdown from five.

"5"

"4"

"3"

"2"

"1!"

Just like everyone else, I untied the ribbon on my mask. Peeling the lace from my eyes, before looking over at mystery man. The thing is when I turned I came face to face with Lando Norris. Speechless, we were both speechless. We were teammates, never had we ever entertained the idea of romance between eachother. Yet we had spent the most part of our evening enjoying the company of each others lips.

"Oh shit! I think the two McLaren drivers been hooking up!" A voice shouted over the music, Daniel Ricciardo's voice to be exact. However, we both struggled to look away from eachother or even speak at all.

From what I could see around Lando, everyone had turned to look at what Daniel was on about. Many audible gasps could be heard over the music which had now quieten down.

Not long after Daniels remark another voice piped up. “Yoo Christian! Pay up! I said two drivers would hook up!” It was the Mercedes team principal, Toto Wolff.

"Oh shit!" I manged out before Lando could reply.

"Oh shit indeed..." He nodded in agreement.

-

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