Julie Masks Novels & Stories

“You need to loosen up. You’ve been too serious lately. No one will know it’s you. Everyone wears masks.” Jude smirked as he sat down, eyes glued to me. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little fun.” My head snapped toward him. “I’m not scared.” “Sure,” he said, walking closer. “Prove it.” My heart tripped, but I covered it with a glare. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Paris groaned, grabbing my hand. “Enough. No excuses. You’re going. We already have your mask.” She pulled out a delicate white glitter mask that shimmered under the light. “Perfect. Like a princess about to commit a royal sin.”

“And if he turns out to be an idiot, I’ll personally kick his ass for you.” She let out a small giggle and seemed to relax, refocusing her attention on me. “Your makeup is on point! Now let’s find you the perfect outfit.” Julia said, getting up to go rifle through my closet. Julia loved fashion and I almost always trusted her judgment when it came to clothes. She pulled out a pair of black, high-waisted skinny jeans and a black mesh crop top. She dug through my lingerie drawer and found a hot pink bra and panty set to wear underneath.

said Julia. "If you're with me, you'll be fine," I said. “Yeah, I trust you,” said Julia, “By the way, what are you wearing to the gig tonight?” "How did you know?" I asked. "I did a little time zone investigation," Julia answered openly. "I don't know," I said uncertainly. "Maybe I'll wear the clothes you used to force on me." "And what is it?" “Dark windbreaker jacket and mask,” I said. "Yes, that's right," said Julia, "you should wear your trademark uniform."

She had lost everything, and now, I knew very well that killing the Rogue Pack would have truly left her desolate and alone. I could not take the sight of her crying, because it hurt to hear it. She sniffed and shook her head, trying to get me to release my grip on her as I continued to wipe her tears from her face. Julie murmured in a tear-filled voice, “Let me go, Donald. I’m fine.” She tried her very best to sound strong and formidable like the infamous Rogue that she was, trying to pull on her mask even as she cried.

If he wants a war, he’ll get one. “Get them dropped off,” I say, motioning to the gruesome boxes waiting to be sent out. One of the guards hesitates, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. “All of them?” “Yes,” I snap, my voice sharp. My lips curl into a smirk as I glance at the smallest box—the one containing Marcello’s most personal piece. “And make sure Ghost gets his cousin’s cock.” The men exchange uneasy glances, but no one dares to question me. I grab a piece of paper, quickly scrawling out a message in bold, deliberate strokes:

"Your ribs... I can hear them creaking. I can’t—" "Do it, Martha," Julian hissed through gritted teeth. His eyes, heavily rimmed with waterproof kohl and shimmering champagne shadow, caught his reflection in the mirror. For a second, he didn't recognize the creature staring back. With the wig of waist-length chestnut curls pinned perfectly into place and the professional-grade contouring masking the sharp, masculine line of his jaw, he didn't look like Julian anymore. He looked like Juliet. He looked like the sister who had vanished into the night, leaving him to pay her debts with his own flesh.

He looked up, his gaze sharp and penetrating, and quickly stood up, saying, "I can explain." I couldn't hear what Mr. Eugen was saying anymore. All I could see in my eyes was the silver mask he was holding in his hand. This mask was incredibly familiar to me. It was the same mask that MK used to wear countless nights before. And now, Mr. Eugen was holding it. The implications were clear. Mr. Eugen was MK. My hand loosened, and the bowl of soup I was holding fell to the ground, shattering the silence of the night.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. We can take a look, and if you don’t like it, we’ll leave. I promise.” “Maybe I should just go back home. You should have fun. I don’t want to spoil it.” “Oh, my god, Aurora, you’re not going to spoil anything. Just come with me. Five minutes, okay? Five minutes, and then we’ll go home.” Julia reaches into her bag and pulls out a black lace mask. “Put this on.” I take the mask, running my fingers over it. Should I even be considering doing this? If someone sees me or recognizes me at Purple Pleasure, it’ll be a thousand times worse than if they run into me at a regular club.

Each attendee is directed to select a mask from the counters, setting the stage for an evening of mystery and style. Emma, in harmony with her dress, opts for a captivating red mask adorned with a long black feather cascading down its left side. The mask, veiling almost her entire face, adds an intriguing aura, yet her distinctive emerald eyes remain an unmistakable identifier for those attempting to distinguish her amidst the masked crowd.

Hasen said as he took out a box and placed it on the table. Amanda grabbed some and examined them. They are modern masquerade ball masks, some of which were white, black, or silver in color. They were embellished with sparkling glitter, side feathers, jewels, and glossy silk. There are half, full, or had handles that cover the upper part of the face. "I will go now, I—" Jin said as he stood up, but he was pushed by back Hasen and Goro. "Hey man! No fair! Have some fun as well!" Hasen pats his back and side-hugged him, "Come with us to the nightclub!"