#gilded serendipity ask

[countercharmda]

@charmsperson asked: what does your muse FEAR? & what does your muse WANT? >:3c

from this list!

i think, most of all, serendipity is terrified of being forgotten. the way he talks about it, he'd like you to think he's concerned with his legacy. but more importantly, he's scared of his own loved ones forgetting him. leaving him behind, maybe even replacing him. he's a shell of a person, anyways; it wouldn't be too hard to discard him for something better, right? ( a close second to this is being trapped somewhere, against his will, being someone he doesn't want to be, but. )

i think he wants to do something worth meaning. all his life he's been surrounded by stories, grand and golden and satisfying when they end. if he could live his life like that -- one proper, harrowing adventure that lands him in the gilded pages of history -- he'd be happy. ( a close second to this? a yearning for love, of course! )

[mrs-gray]

MIDNIGHT GRAY – Part III

Michael Gray x female reader (OFC / OC) – A Peaky Blinders™ fanfiction

Summary: You needed a drink after the meeting with Tommy Shelby and Michael Gray. Unfortunately some drunk men harassed you...will someone save you?

Characters: Michael Gray, OFC, Tommy Shelby, Lizzie Stark (Lizzie Shelby), Isaiah Jesus, Finn Shelby 

Word Count: 6k

Status: Incomplete

Warning(s): English is my second language, melancholy, smoking, drinking, strong language, non-con elements

Published: March 2022

Part 3 of the ‘Midnight Gray’-saga

Author's note: Slow burn, (Fr)Enemies to lovers

Song recommendations for this chapter:

She Remembers – Max Richter

Oh My God – Adele

In a Sentimental Mood – Ella Fitzgerald 

Music To Watch Boys To – Lana Del Rey

Just When I Thought – Jacob Banks

WTF – Sasha Alex Sloan

Pervious Chapters:

Chapter 1 – Serendipity – a fortunate happenstance 

Chapter 2: Zemblanity – the inevitable discovery of what we would rather not know; the opposite of serendipity

꧁ ________________________꧂

Chapter 3:

Drapetomania – an overwhelming urge to run away.

What a troublesome night, haunted by bad dreams you thought once you opened your eyes after a very sleepless rest. You needed a moment to adjust to the still foreign environment. Then it hit you like lightning, your whole body shivered in return. 

Realization like an avalanche – Shelby Mansion, my new gilded cage. Furthermore the meeting with Thomas and Mr. Gray. What a nightmare and you just woke up from one…

You sat up in your canopy bed, starring out of the window for several minutes. You hugged your knees and your head rested on top of them. The grey sky so gloomy and drab, resembling your own inner mood.

You couldn’t decide what will turn out to be worse today – signing over your property, your goods and chattels, to Thomas Shelby or enduring Michael Gray while doing so? 

Your heart felt torn even though a little spark of joy kept on resonating within your stomach but you decided to ignore it and let it drift by like the cloudy weather waiting outside. 

He betrayed you. It hurt, badly. Don’t trust him again! Keep yourself locked from his charisma and the undeniable chemistry the two of you shared. It will be for the better...you thought.

You decided to go for a ride. Feeling the warm horse skin galloping under your saddle was a pleasant distraction. Once you came back after a couple of hours you took a bath, ate and enjoyed a few cups of tea while finishing Thomas Hardy’s Far from the Madding Crowd – you always enjoyed reading this novel, no matter how many times you’ve already delved into this fictional masterpiece.

It was time to get dressed you thought after observing the watch hanging on the forest green wall. You chose a black dress, tight around your waist with a pleated skirt. A white collar and matching wristbands should be suitable for today. 

You mascaraed your greenish blue eyes, added some rosy blush and lipstick. You tied your gold-coloured hair back in a ponytail, little curls swinging in the back around your rips. Modest pearl earrings would be enough for this meeting you thought and took a look in the mirror.

Your reflection showed a perfect image but it was the exact opposite to your troubled mind. Luckily you always seemed calm and firm on the outside, never allowing others to know how you really felt – today would be a good day to use this special boon. 

You walked down the stairs and asked one of the servants for Thomas. She informed you that he left the mansion hours ago and you were told to wait for one of his men to drive you to Birmingham. 

It’s funny how all the things that used to be ordinary and so very taken for granted seemed to become way more important once you’ve lost your freedom – you loved to drive ever since you got your first car; however you gave in to this strange, almost comedic situation and let one of Thomas’ men drive you to his city office. 

If only you could get rid of his henchman in the driver's seat and escape  – out of Birmingham, out of this perdition. The vehicle abruptly stopped in front of the meeting spot – The Shelby Company Limited.

Your driver got out of the car, lit a cigarette and attentively watched you while opening the door of Thomas’ city office. Liberty, more like self determination lost. 

You walked down the wooden corridor and a beautiful raven-black haired woman sat in front of you. She stopped writing and looked up. 

‘Miss Huntington-Coldwell?’ She assumed, navy blue eyes studying you. 

‘Yes. I am about to have an appointment with Mr. Sh…’ You said and she interrupted you.

‘Mr. Shelby will arrive a little bit later than scheduled.’ She stood up and added. ‘Please follow me.’

The secretary was a very tall and attractive lady, no wonder that Thomas hired her. Guardedness aside, he still is just a man after all. 

You came along an empty office, the inscription on the door saying ‘accountant’. 

Assuming that Michael Gray would most definitely be in his office by now gave you some hope and you inwardly sent up a quick prayer that he won’t attend the meeting. 

She gestured to the door that was left ajar and your eyes instantly locked with his. It seemed like someone cheered too soon. 

‘Mr. Gray.’ You greeted him, not out of joy but out of manner.

‘Good afternoon, Miss Coldwell.’ He rose to his feet and walked over to the bar. 

‘What's your poison?’ He asked while pouring himself whiskey in a crystal glass. 

‘You!’ You thought. His eyes met yours again and it seemed like the severity of your hatred towards him got the better of you. 

His signature brow lifted in a suspicious way, the other side of his mouth formed a smirk.

‘Did I just say that out loud?’ You asked yourself and started to panic.

‘I can’t blame you, Miss.’ He said casually, almost sounding amused. 

Fuck! I said it out loud. 

‘It’s shortly after 5 o'clock and you’re already drinking?’ You asked him, wanting to distract him from your awkward remark. 

‘Wakeful night.’ He drank some of the whiskey and continued. ‘Helps me to endure the long days.’

You stared at him, wanting to read his body language, slightly tilting your head while doing so. Apparently I haven’t been the only one having troubles sleeping tonight? He surely deserved it…you tried to persuade yourself. He indeed looked tired. It didn’t made him less handsome but the dark circles under his midnight blue eyes were a testimony to long working days and probably nights as well – you almost felt sorry for him... 

‘…it might help you to endure me, Miss.’ He cockily stated.

‘Right enough!’ You replied. 

‘Whiskey?’ He asked again. 

‘Scotch.’ You retorted. 

He wanted to pass you the glass filled with Scotch but you pretended to be occupied with something in your handbag. He sighed but he still had a smugly grin resting on his face.    

You grabbed the crystal glass from the table and raised it in the air. 

‘Here’s to cheating, stealing and drinking.’ You uttered mockingly.

‘Cheers.’ He raised his glass in approval, fully aware of your spiteful undertone.

The taste of the Scotch was heady and now you had to agree – day drinking might become your new passion. It will most definitely help you to endure the upcoming months. 

‘Miss Coldwell.’ He started and slowly strode a few steps inside the office. One hand still holding his whiskey glass, the other one nonchalantly resting in his pocket. 

You weren’t in the mood for his speech, he didn’t even gave you enough time to let the alcohol work and reach your blood – you exhaled deeply. He put his glass down on the table and his hands leant on the chairback, opposite from you. He avoided your gaze for a few silent moments.

‘I know I’ve hurt you.’ Then his eyes pierced yours, gleaming with truthfulness. 

‘I know that.’ He insisted so very intense. 

‘I…’ He arose again and rubbed his temple. 

‘It wouldn’t have made any difference.’ He declare himself.

‘On the contrary! It would have made a difference…to me.’ Your voice broke. You needed to swallow and drank some more of your Scotch. 

‘The moment I knew who you were…I.’ He paused and looked away, lost in thought. He deeply exhaled and regained his posture. 

‘I couldn’t dare to put you in danger.’ He reached for his drink and took another sip of his whiskey. 

‘It would have made everything worse, trust me.’ He laughed in a cruel way to himself, starring into the distance and lightly biting his full bottom lip. 

Thereafter he fastened his eyes with yours again and they begged for your forgiveness. You sat there in silence, studying him and trying to judge the trueness in his words. 

‘Sure, I could have smuggled you out of Birmingham, perhaps even the country…but Miss, I know what my family is capable of.’ His blue eyes matched his sad smile. 

‘I couldn't reconcile your destiny with my conscience and move one like I wouldn't be the one to blame for your death sentence.’ He lit a cigarette and audibly exhaled the first drag of tobacco, then absentmindedly shook his head. 

‘Not after I met you.’ He confessed, just above a throaty whisper. 

Your eyes locked again and you knew that he was telling the truth and it almost tore you apart. 

‘I know.’ You breathed and looked down, not longer able to hold his gaze. 

He came closer and sat down in the chair next to you, knees almost touching. 

‘Now I can do everything in my power to keep you safe, Miss. To protect you.’  You looked up again, apprehending his face – sincerity written all over it. 

‘Like I said yesterday, I will make up for it.’ He repeated sternly.

‘I promise.’ He breathed calmly. 

This moment was intimate. No physical touch needed, to feel connected to him... Suddenly the door opened and Tommy entered his office. 

‘Miss Coldwell, Michael.’ He shortly greeted and exhaled deeply while removing his coat and sat down right beside you.

Michael once again caught a fleeting glimpse of your greenish blue eyes and you wondered – how could he affect you like this? He was right. It would have made everything worse…hearing that he truly cared for you isn't helping matters. 

Thomas spread dozens of documents all over the table.

‘Miss Coldwell, you know that once the signing over is officially confirmed, your father’s hereditary debt is repaid. It becomes legally binding on your next birthday.’ Thomas informed you and it upset you but you kept your stoic facade. 

He kept on talking like you didn’t know that you would have to sell your soul to the devil, simply because your father made one wrong choice; trusting his friend who betrayed him in the end. One fatal decision let to this moment. 

‘If only your father didn’t get involved with the Shelby clan!’ You let your thoughts spin around in your head...

Surely they ended the feud between your father and his former friend but the Shelbys weren’t there to protect your father from being killed by one of his old friend’s followers. 

Down to the present day you couldn’t believe that your father agreed to this covenant. Transferring everything to Thomas Shelby in exchange for their help. That was very unlike him – he would rather die than shaking hands with some notorious gypsy gangster…

‘Let’s begin with the properties.’ Thomas decided and lit a cigarette, smoke tarnished the yellowish lamplight. 

Michael cleared his throat and laid down one paper after the other. Starting with Gosford House in Scotland, Drumlanrig Castle in Scotland next, Dyffryn House in Wales, followed by Bodrhyddan Hall in North Wales...

You’ve stayed silent the whole time, signing countless of papers and just like that your estates vanished. Funds, cars, stocks as well as art and paintings weren’t yours, not any longer.

You felt an overly forceful stare coming from Thomas and you looked right back into his sky blue eyes.

‘Is there a problem, Mr. Shelby?’ You held his gaze straightfaced. 

‘You’re surprisingly calm, Miss Coldwell.’ He acknowledged, his brows a bit furrowed – a sign of suspicion. 

You didn’t response but your eyes kept on saying everything you wanted him to know. 

‘Jewellery next.’ He said and his eyes ogled down to the platinum charm around your neck. 

‘No!’ You implied. 

‘You can take everything but you certainly won’t take this away from me!’ You insisted, your eyes ready to fight, your hand around the charm, gripping it so tightly as if your life depended on it.

‘It’s my mothers. It’s the only thing she left me.’ You said sternly, eyes drowning in wrath now. 

How could he be so greedy? 

‘You can have everything else…but not this.’ You were trapped in a hopeless situation but wouldn’t go down, not without a fight. 

‘Tommy!’ Michael appealed urgently, subtly admonishing his uncle.

‘I respect that.’ Thomas replied and lit yet another cigarette. 

__________________________________________________

Hours passed, ink dried.

‘Alright, seems like we’re done for today.’ Thomas declared and looked at his gilded pocket watch. 

‘What about my Cousin?’ You asked Thomas, eyes wide open. 

‘We will discuss this topic another time, Miss Coldwell.’ He replied dryly. 

‘This topic?’ You said disgusted by Thomas Shelby’s arrogance. 

‘But you said you would agree to get him out of captivity, once I cleared my father’s debt.’ You almost shouted.

‘So it will be.’ He replied so calmly, you felt the infuriation heating up your entire body. 

‘You will get him out...right? I signed over all that I had. You said you’re a man of your word, Mr. Shelby!’ Your eyes full of pleading and also temper. 

‘Miss Coldwell, the signing over covered the contractual conditions. Your cousin wasn’t a part of the deal.’ He said and lit a cigarette. 

‘You’re kidding, right?’ Your voice filled with fury, your rib cage raising from suppressed tension. 

‘Everything I have ever owned is yours now… What could I possibly offer you to get him out?’ You looked at him perplexed.

You could barely contain yourself anymore, being on the edge of your seat. All of a sudden you felt Michael’s left hand on your thigh, resting on top of your pleated skirt, trying to calm you down – you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. 

Thomas stared at you wordlessly and it felt like half an eternity until he finally responded. 

‘I will try to get your cousin out of his captivity and you will fulfil tasks for me?’ Thomas finally answered.

‘What kind of tasks?’ You asked and crossed your arms, brows furrowed. 

‘It depends on upcoming events. Once you’ll be needed, you will comply with my wish.’ He declared.

‘Settled!’ You stood up, grabbed your handbag as well as your coat and walked down the corridor. 

You pushed the front door open, not caring about the loud slam. You put on your gloves and the cold air was surprisingly refreshing, cooling down your nerves and mind. 

The man who drove you to Birmingham approached you. 

‘God!’ How much you hated this insanity. Your whole body stiffened and you couldn’t regain control over your mind. It was overwhelming, simply too much for you. Tears slowly building up and you didn’t want to show this kind of emotion, not in front of one of Thomas’ henchmen nor anyone else. Everything seemed forlorn, tears kept on running down your blushed cheeks.

It felt harder to breathe. Each gasp hurt more than the last one. Suddenly two hands grabbed your arms from behind. 

‘Miss Coldwell.’ A familiar velvety voice lingered in your ears. 

You turned around and Michael repeated his gesture, now facing you while his hands found their way around your upper arms. 

He kept some distance between the two of you in order to make you feel comfortable.

‘Thomas wants me to driver her back.’ The driver said non empathetically. 

You shot him a questionable look – he couldn’t be serious? 

‘Fuck Tommy’s orders! I will take care of her.’ Michael gave him a warning and the man finally drove off.  

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling down your reddened cheeks. Your feeling heart betrayed your otherwise usually emotional cold and reserved composure – how much you hated yourself for being so vulnerable, so very lost in this moment. You wanted to be the strong young women you always aimed for others to see, each and every single day – and there you stood in a complete turmoil.

You walked a few steps back in order to evade his touch and create distance between the two of you. Suddenly you felt bricks behind your back. 

Michael came closer and closer, ignoring your personal space which would have been more than appropriate and embraced you, tightly. You just stood there, unable to move, unable to think but still able to feel - and it scared you. It felt so right standing there, in his arms. 

Mixed feelings overwhelmed you and you suddenly pushed him away.

‘Don’t you dare touch me!’ You screamed in a hoarse voice. You wept bitterly and his eyes softened. You wondered if he honestly cared? 

‘Just leave me alone!’ You whispered scarcely audible, your head hung low. 

He couldn’t endure to see you like this – looking like a picture of misery. 

‘Come here.’ He said so self-evidently. 

This time you couldn’t fight back and truth be told, you even welcomed his tight embracement. It made you feel surprisingly safe, as if he prevented you from falling apart entirely. 

You smelled the rich smell of his musky cologne and inhaled it deeply. One of his hands holding your back, the other one resting at the back of your head, in the utmost gentle way. 

You didn’t know how long he held you in his strong arms but he made sure to hold you as long as you needed it. 

‘Thank you.’ You breathed, so very sore from crying. 

You ended the embrace and reached for your handkerchief, wiping away your fluid sadness. 

‘I don’t know if you should keep it or if I want it back?’ He said with a cheeky smile, never leaving your eyes. 

‘Pardon me?’ Your eyes widened in bewilderment. 

‘Your handkerchief. I mean...actually mine.’ He said showing you his perfect teeth now.

‘Oh.’ Your glazed eyes looked down at the tear-flooded fabric in your hand. 

‘I will clean it and give it back to you…this time.’ You replied shyly, your voice sounding innocent. 

‘No! Keep it…though I hope you won’t ever need it again.’ He replied compassionately. 

Your eyes locked with his blue ones and you gave him a sad smile in return before you absentmindedly let your head fall again. 

He put his leather gloves on, drew closer to you and his now gloved finger tenderly raised your chin, his action demanding you to look at him. 

‘Want to drown your sorrow, Miss?’ He raised his signature brow and awaited your answer.

‘I bet you won’t want to waste your whole life listening to my melancholy woe, Mr. Gray?’ You couldn’t hold back a small smile.  

‘I think I could spare a lifetime.’ He jokingly remarked and his facial expression reassured you. 

He led you through a few of Birmingham’s streets, his hand never leaving the small of your back.

‘Thank you, Mr. Gray…’ You struggled for words, not looking at him, yet you continued. ‘…and also for letting me vent, again.’

‘That goes without saying, Miss.’ The corner of his mouth forming an honest smile. 

‘If you please…’ He opened the door of a pub called The Garrison. 

You walked in first and he helped you out of your black fur coat.

‘Thank you. I’m about to powder my nose.’ You spoke out and disappeared in the pub’s lavatory.

You refreshed your maquillage and wanted to rebuild the perfect mask – powder, lipstick and some blush would definitely help to recreate your formerly neat appearance. You put some perfume on both sides of your neck, gently applying it by using the back of your wrist. 

You observed your reflection and were surprised that once again the old saying is indeed true – Appearances are deceiving. 

There was no evidence left of your emotional outburst, except for the mournfulness in your eyes but no make up in the world could possibly hide it.

You headed back to Michael, past dozens of men who eyeballed you, yet you didn’t pay attention to their staring nor comments, also a few whistles now and then – both of your eyes fixed only on one another. 

Michael’s hand casually rested in his pinstriped suit pants pocket, the other one holding a glass of whiskey. He looked so very attractive and his intense stare made you wonder what he thought about…

Michael lifted his head and he let his captivating blue eyes wander from your eyes down your body and up again, taking his time observing you – like a hunter and his prey.

You didn’t mind his attention, in fact you liked the idea of making him aroused, swinging your hips a little bit more than usually, while approaching him.

You saw an unfamiliar man standing next to Michael. He was tall, dressed just as dapper as the other Shelbys and his skin was tanned, shimmering amber-brown. 

‘Well, look who it isn’t!’ The stranger addressed me, visibly delighted.

‘Princess Harlow, right?’ He smirked smugly. 

‘I am not a princess. I’m Harlow.’ You calmly mentioned.

‘Isaiah.’ He introduced himself and placed a kiss on top of your delicate hand, never leaving your eyes. 

‘Well...you can be my princess any time.’ He said and he was so charming, you couldn’t be mad at him. His golden brown eyes winked at you in a flirtatious way. 

You smiled but didn’t replied anything. 

Michael stood there watching you and his friend Isaiah silently while sipping his whiskey. 

‘Your eyes are mesmerizing.’ Isaiah asseverated truthfully. 

‘I just wanted to say the same! I have never seen eyes that golden…like the sun is shining through them.’ You said sounding innocently. 

‘Not as hypnotizing and beautiful as yours, Miss Harlow.’ He refuted. 

‘Beautiful eyes?…I bet she never heard that before.’ Michael snorted and shook his head in annoyance. 

You shot a glance at Michael and didn’t understand his constant moodiness. 

You decided to focus on Isaiah and also Finn, who just came back from the bar; a beer mug in one hand, a champagne flute in the other. 

‘Thank you Finn.’ You said with kind eyes. 

‘I didn’t know what you wanted and I guessed you would like some champagne?’ He said a bit nervous, his ears reddened. 

‘Yes, that‘s so kind of you!’ You gratefully replied. 

‘She prefers Scotch!’ Michael said even more displeased than before. 

You bit your lip, trying to contain the aggravation inside of you. You couldn’t believe what he just said – your blood began to boil in your veins. 

‘I also like the taste of champagne, Mr. Gray…and you aren’t my spokesman, are you?’ You stated levelly but your eyes certainly showed the ire you were trying to hide. 

Both of you started a staring contest.

Isaiah spoke again and you faced him instead. 

‘Your eyes, Harlow, are they grey or green?’ Isaiah asked but it sounded more like a statement.

‘Blue!’ Finn interposed.

Isaiah came closer and closer until you felt his breath on your skin. You knew he would jump at the chance to be this close to you. 

‘Her left one is silvery blue, her right one icy green.’ Michael interrupted him and shot his friend Isaiah a warning glance, while his jaw tensed.

You furrowed your brows and pierced Michael, not understanding why he suddenly acted like this. 

‘I would say…’ Isaiah came even closer now and you guessed he did on purpose, also enjoying to provoke Michael even more. 

‘He’s right.’ You declared, addressing Michael. 

Michael raised his brow, smugness written all over his face. 

‘I know.’ He added shortly, his voice so very self-pleased. 

The mood was so tense, thanks to his arrogance. 

You drowned your champagne with one gulp, the little bubbles tickling your throat in a refreshing way.

‘Two things are missing in here, gentlemen...’ You started to say and looked around the pub, all 3 men listened to you. 

‘…some music as well as a goddam Scotch. Therefore I am about to go to the bar and get myself one, now!’ You facetiously exclaimed. 

‘…unless someone…’ Your eyes locked with Michaels again and you continued. ‘…disagrees with my reckless and bloody deed?’ You smiled so very alluringly in order to mock Michael knowingly and also willingly.

His tongue slid over his lip and he gave you a daring glimpse. You knew that he didn’t want you to carry this joke too far.

You went to the counter of the bar and your pent-up tension might added to the swing of your hips - and it seemed to work. Several men whistled at you and tried to gain your attention but you focused on the pecan brown liquid. Still you felt flattered, mainly because it drove him mad. 

His jaw clenched constantly on your way back to the them. 

‘As far as I can gather you already turned every poor blokes head in here.’ Isaiah commented buoyantly. 

‘Guess we’re not the only ones fancying you?’ He joked and smiled coquettishly. 

You laughed out loud and and shook your head. 

‘No!’ You stated and narrowed your eyes to underline your honest negation.

‘Or she simply enjoys to tempt all men?’ Michael retaliated, his dark blue eyes sharp as a blade. 

‘All men?’ You repeated slowly, your voice broke slightly. His rude comment hit so very deep and he knew it. 

‘I need some fresh air.’ You blurted and avoided everyone’s gaze, while you put on you leather gloves and raven-black fur coat. 

Finn wanted to accompany you, same as Isaiah but you denied. 

You pushed the door of the pub open and closed your eyes, inhaling the cold air of the night. How much you hated him!

‘Bastard!’ You spoke out to yourself. 

You felt ashamed for trusting him, again – crying in his arms not even one hour ago. Why did he do this to you? It seemed like he wanted to tease you in such a callous way. He enjoyed this game, his game. But why? You asked yourself.

Buried in thought two men approached you. One of them made you move back, till you felt the hard bricks of the house wall behind you. 

‘Today’s your lucky day, kitten.’ He reached for your hair and closed his eyes smelling the light scent of peonies and roses. 

You smelled the alcohol in his boozy breath, then you heard the clang of church bells in the distance. 

‘Seems like my fortunate day just ended, gentlemen.’ You stated and walked past him.

His other friend came closer and blocked your way. 

‘Where are you going, kitty?’ He firmly grabbed you by your hair and pulled you back. He opened your coat and it made you shiver. One of his hands grabbed your rip cage now, the other one squeezing your bum. 

‘Let me go!’ You pushed him away but he stood his ground and both men laughed menacingly, as his grip tightened even more. 

‘Don’t fucking touch her.’ Michael came into view, his hands rested in his coat pockets. 

It worked! Due to the distraction the man loosened his solid grip and you freed yourself from his touch. 

‘Well, look for another slag, mate!’ He spat out.

‘I won’t say it again.’ Michael threatened him overly composed. 

Isaiah and Finn joined the situation and their footsteps became harsher. 

‘What's going on here?’ Isaiah’s voice blazed.

‘I think we need to teach those fucking bastards a lesson.’ Michael addressed both of his friends. 

The other drunkard saw Finn and his mimic changed instantly. 

‘Fuck Pete! These kiddos are Peaky Blinders!’ Fear was visibly inked on his whole face. 

Michael exchanged a few words with Isaiah and turned to you again, his hand on the small of your back guiding you out of the street – his pace way faster than before. You turned around and wanted to see what would happen to the two drunk men. 

‘Come along! Let’s go to the car.’ He uttered resolutely.

‘What are you about to do to the…’ You questioned him uncertainly but he interrupted you right away. 

‘We take care of them.’ He answered vaguely and you turned into the left alley, where his car parked, not very far from you. 

‘You don’t kill them...do you?’ You asked obviously alarmed and searched for an answer, scanning his profile. 

Michael stopped dead in his tracks. 

‘Are you serious?’ His tone full of disgust and he drew nearer to you until you felt his heavy breath on you face. 

‘You tell me!’ You countered and mirrored his rage. 

Your eyes stayed locked for moments – then he regained his composure, lit a cigarette and his jaw tensed, yet another time.

‘What difference will it make, if those bastards live to see the next dawn?’ He distanced and turned his back on you.

‘They don’t deserve to die!’ You protested and ran after him. 

His right forefingers pointed at you and his eyes narrowed. 

‘Such unworthy rabble…’ He pointed in the direction of the men now but kept his eyes fixated on you. 

‘…they won’t deserve the air in their lungs!’ He yelled out every single word. 

‘…but death? I know they were dishonourable but…’ You began to speak.

‘Dishonourable?’ He spat out in disbelief and threw away his burning cigarette.

‘…but they only did what they did due to the alcohol!’ You responded in defence. 

He came closer again, eying you with squinted orbs. 

‘It’s true.’ He testified. 

‘What?’ You asked annoyed and frustrated. 

‘You really want to tempt every men.’ He smiled but his eyes told a different story. 

‘How dare you speak to me like that?’ You shouted equally hurt and outraged.

Your gloved hand found its way on the left side of his chiseled face. Surely, you were mad at those men but you hated Michael even more – nonetheless you whispered an apology straightway. 

His head turned to the side, once you hit him and Michael laughed cockily. 

‘Son of a gun!’ You thought – he liked it!

‘A little fire in you? I like that!’ He scoffed haughty. 

‘Really?’ Your brow raised but you remained serene. 

'In that case I will never hit you again.’ You promised, your eyes showed your incomprehension.

He reached for your gloved hand but you pulled away. 

It physically hurt to fight back the tears, swelling in your eyes. 

‘Fuck!’ He cursed and took a few steps back, both palms of his hands resting on either side of his temples. 

‘Miss Coldwell. I am sorry.’ His expression changed. 

‘I can’t stand to…’ He started to say but inhaled and it seemed like the oxygen tamed his grudge. 

‘The way those bastards…’ He pointed in their direction again. ‘… as well as all the other guys in the pub undressed you with their filthy eyes.’ His jaw didn’t stop clenching and he looked away and stared into the distance. 

‘Even the way Isaiah looked at you!’ His tone became sharper. 

Your eyes met and his mimic was imbued with revulsion, disapproval and even...jealousy?

‘You looked at me even more blatantly, Mr. Gray.’ You laughed out of frustration – he nodded. 

‘That’s true.’ He agreed and his proud overconfidence bothered you even more. 

‘You should not provoke their reaction like this!’ He exhorted you as if he had the right to do so. 

‘...and now you will kill them?’ You asked him again, this time even more irritated. 

He turned his back on you and his exhaled breath overclouded the weak streetlamp light. 

‘Are you serious? You better shoot me right away too! Problems solved once and for all.’ You shouted, your body shuddered and it felt like you were on the verge of collapse. 

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ He disgorged, visibly scandalized.

‘I would never want to hurt you!’ If looks could kill, his eyes would have. 

‘You are doing quite a fantastic job doing the opposite, Mr. Gray!’ You smiled at Michael in a taunting way and even clapped your hands.

‘If you were mine I would…’ He retorted but you stopped him. 

‘…lock me in a cage? Too bad! Your family already did that!’ You eyed him up and down and mirrored his angered mimic.  

‘I trusted you! Unfortunately again!’ The annoyance in your shouting voice filled the whole alley.

‘Funny how I lost your trust, even though I never betrayed you. How tragic!’ He mocked you and showed his perfect teeth in an evil half grin. 

‘You are also a liar!’ You counterattacked while your hands profusely gesticulated.  

‘A liar?’ He furiously asked the truth behind your accusation, almost sounding hurt. ‘You can't be serious!’

‘Yes! A fucking liar!’ You repeated stoically. ‘You lied and told me that you would take the next train to Southampton and still you came from London!’ 

He guffawed but not in a heartfelt kind of way. He turned around and came back to you, even closer than before. His lips were so close to your ear that the heat of his breath ran shivers down your spine.

‘…it never crossed your mind that I had business in Southampton first and London afterwards?’ He raised his brow and his smile became cocky but also unusually charming.

‘Oh.’ You closed your eyes for a few seconds, shame written all over your body. 

His blue eyes searched for yours and when you opened them again he looked all the way down to your soul. 

‘I’m not a fucking liar, Miss.’ His voice was soothingly even again as he repeated excessively smug. 

You looked to the floor, then up through your long lashes again. You gazed at each other – lost in this tense, almost intimate moment. He looked away, wetting his bottom lip and clenched his jaw thereafter.

Out of nowhere he forced you to walk a few steps back until you hit the wall behind you. He supported his weight with both of his arms, fists resting on the bricks – his body encircled you.

The intensity of his steady gaze was inexpressible. You instinctively moistened your plump lips, while his eyes followed your unconscious gesture. Michael bit his own in return and his eyes shot back to look at yours. He drew even closer, your foreheads nearly touching. 

Lips only a knife blade apart – you could almost taste the whiskey in his breath. Your heart was beating so fast and erratic, he must have heard it. All at once he let his right hand fall, shortly after the left one too – yet he didn’t walk away, didn’t take a step back nor loosed the closeness between you, coat hems already touching. 

Both of you leered at each other. You were furious with him as he drove you mad – but still you wanted to carry on this heated dispute, more like battle. It would have been so easy to grab him by the collar of his coat, pull him even closer to you and kiss him. Let your tongues continue this war.

A few heartbeats past by and he abruptly slammed his right fist against the wall, right next to your head. He inhaled deeply, not even blinking once and sternly kept a straight face – all while the blood ran down and covered his fingers crimson red. 

You reached for your, well, his handkerchief and observed the fresh cuts on his knuckles. You wanted to stop the bleeding and gently pressed the fabric against his wounds. 

Your eyes met and shared meaningful glances...

__________________________________________________

The ride back crowned it all. 

Not a single word came out of your mouth, Michael emulated your deeds. 

‘Thank God!’ You finally arrived at Arrow House and you would have never believed that you would actually be happy to be back at the Shelby mansion – just the absurd thought was ridiculous and beyond your wildest dreams. 

He parked next to the waterspout fountain, in front of the entrance. You reached for your handbag that you placed on the rear bench seat. The car door opened – of course he had to open it and you tried your best not to roll your eyes.

You walked the few steps to the front door and before you could even think through your next action, your head turned. Your gaze met his and you stared at each other – a mixture of regret, sadness, so much temper and also longing in each of your eyes.

You couldn’t stand his glare anymore and opened the door and shut it close behind you, the sound of tires rolling over the pebbles caught your ears. 

You hated him with every single fibre of your whole being – if only it wasn't for that damn unnecessary little thing called heart...

꧁ ________________________꧂

To be continued...

Thank you so much for reading my third chapter – sending you all much love & positivity! ✨💕💫

[syubub]

JUNGKOOK SOULMATE READING

Disclaimer: tarot is speculative and to be taken with a grain of salt.

Let's begin. The long awaited Koo reading.

To start, koos energy is a really rich, solid purple that is kinda pearlescent? It hard to explain but it kinda looks like this

So thats pretty neat. Most of the time the way I see energy it isn't ever really opaque so that was new for me. Another thing that was new for me was when I went to, essentially, connect to koos energy there was this like glass door looking thing and, it sounds nuts I know, but I left an offering of energy at the glass thing? Kinda like leaving flowers outside the door and then he removed the glass thing and connected his energy with me.

Now its even weirder because his soulmates energy was already with him so I didn't even need to connect with his energy in order to connect with the soulmate. His soulmates energy was just this white sparkly blob standing by him (I tend to see the boys when connecting with the energy because I already know what they look like) and immediately his soulmate was "chatting" with me. I was surprised so I was like, "do you have any messages that you want to say?"

SOULMATE DELIVERED.

The messages I got were

You'll see

Open your arms to love

Carry the burdens as a badge

Afraid to lose you

Cool cool cool. I think his soulmate is aware of all the upheaval that he's been doing on a soul level recently. I talked some about it in this reading x and kinda this one x I think his soulmate is being very encouraging. (Also, I think his whole upheaval really had to do with him not feeling like a person? Idk thats just the vibe in getting. Its like he needed to learn how to feel again and learn that he can have true and authentic love)

Now the open your arms to love thing is cute because I also wrote down, "He's suffered enough" and "Love is hard for him" (I swear to God I heard a tiny little "hey!" From jk in the background lol)

His soulmate is very aware of the struggles he's been through and is going through and is very understanding that he needs patience. So cute.

Keep in mind the reading hasn't even started yet. We still hanging on his little energy platform chatting and his Soulmate is like, "I don't know him" ... I didn’t even ask that yet but oki. So they don't know eachother. And again, out of nowhere his soulmate wanted me to know that their hair is blonde. Awesome. This could mean that their hair is blonde when they meet or that's just the natural color.

I was like, dude, I haven't pulled cards yet. And his soulmate was like, "no shit"... soulbae has jokes. I was like, "You're funny" and they were like, "You can write that one down too"

His soulmate and him definitely have witty banter and they tease eachother a lot.

Now, some freaky shit. I was like cool I'm gonna do the reading now, its awesome that you're connecting with me personally and it'd be great if you could just continue to help me through the reading. And they were like, "yeah no prob" and then dissolved into my energy? Idk. Wtf. His soulmate was like cool I'll help out for sure and gave me a massive direct link. That hasn't happened before. Neat.

On to the actual cards finally! So, for the cards that represent Soulbae are, kid you the fuck not, The Lovers and knight of wands rev. So. This person is very passionate and driven. A little scattered and impulsive but with the lovers card they are very sure of the choices they make. Very honest and open in communication. Also the fucking lovers card. Soulmate shit.

Now. For personality I drew 2 of swords rev. Death, hermit and knight of pentacles rev. Now. I think this person is elusive. A wrote down "no one quite knows" so I think this is the type of person that has never ending depth. They are ever changing yet always the same? They are kinda blocked off and hard to get to know. You have to earn their trust for sure. Also definitely a perfectionist. Can get bored easily too. I also got slave, knight rev and bully. This person is very strong willed and might have some past trauma that they've yet to let go of. Has probably been in some shit relationships because they tend to have "delusions" about romance (more so i get the feeling that they had high expectations that would never be able to be fulfilled? Like they have a tendency to plan everything out in their head and if it doesn't go exactly to plan then its not good enough.) This person might also be stuck, not moving forward because they have too much faith that everything is just gonna magically work out. Probably spiritual.

Onto the relationship now. We have THE LOVERS AGAIN, 9 of cups, wheel of fortune and king of wands. So much contentment. Its fucking destiny. Its the most beautiful, strong, loving and influential relationship. It is what you dream of as a kid. Theres so much honest and open communication in this relationship. UGH its so fucking good. They are in love and its fucking destiny thats divinely guided. Thank you for coming to my tedtalk.

We have the pillar of light, sisterhood of the rose and the age of light. They are going to accidently make eachother fucking woke im cackling. They help eachother become more intune with ~spiritual shit~

Now for this person's sign. Air sign with some fire. I think there might be gemini in there somewhere.

Now for career. I'm confused as fuck. Maybe a life coach? Could also be a personal trainer? This person is really successful and does whatever they feel called to do? I'm not really sure?

Now for where they're from. Oki oki oki. This person has probably moved a lot as a kid and probably enjoys travel a lot. They value the knowledge that the wold has to offer!

Message from his soulmate to him: simplify your life, you think someone is lying (they are) and time to let go. Theres something that he is holding onto (some fake friends perhaps?) That he needs to let go of. Theres also a message of slowing down and resting. Life has been busy for him and he needs to... simplify...

Now we have, balance masculine and feminine energies. Koo needs balance in his life. Him and his soulmate balance pretty well in terms of energy!

For the little homemade cards we have, serendipity and focus. This is his soulmate saying, "hey, focus on the now. Keep doing what you're doing and we'll meet when the time is right" I also made a note that they could possibly meet at a concert (I don’t think it would be a bts concert.)

For descriptors we have: older, masculine, outgoing, long hair, light hair (remember when I said blonde earlier), outgoing again. So this person has masculine features. I also made a note of dark eyes that are like, dark brown grey? And a fit and built body. Also dresses like Koo but a bit more professional or classy. Like classy emo.

Now I also pulled a fortune from my bowl of fortunes and got, "you don't get in life what you want; you get in life what you are." He needs to focus on bettering himself.

Cool cool cool. Now we have Defend to the end , the worth while. This card talks about seeing things for what they really are. Not being swayed by gilded things. Its about learning to love and choose love. Not being afraid of fear. Living your truth. To fight for love and honor and ditch the shit that isn't genuine or doesn't come from a place of love. Its about standing your ground even when its hard. Not compromising yourself.

Overall koo and his soulmate have such a cute and loving relationship. Koo has worked really hard on a soul level and physical level. He's betting himself and he's learning about genuine love. His soulmate couldn't give less shits about whether or not he's famous. His soulmate sees him for who he is, who he really truly is at his core. He doesn't need to protect or keep his walls up. He's open and honest with his soulmate and they are both focused on growing and becoming better people.

TLDR: KOO GETS ALL THE LOVE HE DESERVES

[toonqueen]

Duckvember 2020

--Game--

Just some OC stuff. Move along. Nothing to read here. NO BETA and NO WRITING GOOD DESCS JUST GOING WHERE THIS ENERGY DRINK IS TAKING ME.

PG-13 for the violence. Murder mentions. I’m sure there is a curse word. Fun on a bun stuff.

P.S. IT WAS BETAed THANK YOU @cataradical ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE ONE PART I WAS STUCK AT nnnngh

-------

“Now that I’ve got your attention, let's play a little game,” the canine antagonist’s voice drifted from the speakers, followed by loud, maniacal cackling. There was no sight of him, but the room wasn’t empty.

Faustina curtly stood up from the ground where she had fallen deep into the pit. She was less concerned about the menacing, dangerous voice as she was her clothes getting dirty. Although she was angry, it was more at her sister than this weirdo who’d trapped them here.

“‘Mr. Canis is so nice in the Nega-verse. I just wanted to see if his gas station was anything like the one in the Middle-verse. Your version, he’s such a kind old man, so… what if he’s an absolute grump here? How funny would that be… teehee.’” Faustina repeated words said to her earlier in a mocking tone. She looked around the room as she brushed off her skirt; a small cell with a single glass wall. “Yes, what a great adventure, /sis/,” Faustina growled, pounding on the glass angrily, “find out our good friend /here/ is a serial killer. /Fun times/.”

Faustina glanced up, spotting a TV screen mounted above the glass. Playing was footage of her sister, Felicity, hurrying down a hallway, surrounded by large, halved circular saw blades whirring in and out and along the walls. Faustina’s dark-haired twin was swiftly moving, twisting, dancing around them.

“/I am not a killer/!” the voice shrieked from the speakers, offended, disgusted, “I am merely a tool that creates the puzzles. It is Fate that decides who lives and who dies, not me.”

“Oh, /boy/. This is going to be a /hoot/ then. Fate. With this gal. /Wow/. Why not run me through your death maze too?” Faustina stifled her giggling.

“Because you are going to be the prize for when--or if--she gets through my CORRIDOR OF KARMA and the PRECIPICE OF SERENDIPITY,” the villain bellowed, causing the speakers to glitch a little.

Faustina had completely lost it, cackling until her stomach hurt and she doubled forward, banging a fist against the glass wall. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, her face sore from smiling so much. “Oh, you sad, poor little--if you /only knew/ her! Oh, man, where’s my phone?” She managed to collect herself, wiping away tears and sniffing a few times. A moment to gigglesnort before deep breath. “I’m going to have to record your reaction for later, Mister I Let Fate Decide, but I’m sure as soon as she gets through your stupid game, you’ll change your tune. I bet you made it so everyone loses no matter how hard they try, right? You’re gonna be so butthurt when you realize she’s gonna get through all that.” Unable to restrain herself any longer, Faustina started laughing and snorting again, arms thrown around her belly.

“Laugh now, fool. I hope you see her get torn apart. Behold! She just now entered the GAUNTLET OF THE GILDED-- wait, where did she go?” the canine gasped and choked.

Faustina looked back up at the TV as it started flipping through channels, all showing different chambers and mazes of torture and misery. Every single one of them… empty. Just as another channel turned on, Faustina heard a light shuffling coming from the ceiling above her head.

A second later, a panel on the ceiling right outside the cell room fell to the ground. Felicity climbed out until she was standing, face to face, with her sister on the opposite side of the glass.

Faustina huffed, hands on her hips. “About time. That took you a little longer than I thought,” Faustina complained to her “hero”.

“I would have gotten here sooner, but I felt obligated to read the name plaques he put up in each room. Masquerade of Misfortune was my favorite,” Felicity replied as she placed her hands on where the glass wall met a metal wall.

“How-- /How did you get in here!/ The vents don’t--don’t even lead here!” the voice hissed and snarled from the speakers.

“Well, they do now,” Faustina said on behalf of her sister. Felicity ignored them, tugging and prying along the strip of metal before peeling it loose. A line of bolts popped free.

“No matter! That was cheating! You’ve forfeited the game, and now you will see your sister suffer a gruesome fate,” the voice guffawed sinisterly. Liquid started pouring from the cell’s ceiling, right next to Faustina.

The trapped twin sniffed, and instantly knew what it was. “Gasoline? Really? Gonna set me on fire, huh? This is just getting more and more hilarious. Maybe coming here wasn’t such a bad idea. We need to do this every week. Man, if this jerk only /knew/,” she chuckled, casually pressing a hand up against the nozzle and stopping the flow of gasoline.

“Now, Felicity, was it? How ironic your name means “fortune”. Maybe you’ll be lucky by persuading me to let your sister live. Get on your knees, and /beg/ for her life,” their captor ordered, his tone much more disturbing and ruthless.

Felicity gave him the cold shoulder. “Heat would expand the glass, and then you can crawl out through this seam,” she explained to Faustina. “The bolts are out. You’ll be fine.”

“Are you not listening to me?” the voice raged. “You need to convince me to free your sister! I decide her fate!”

“Cool, cool, all right, hellfire. Got it.” Faustina put her fingers in front of her and started to move them like she was playing with an invisible cat’s cradle string. 

“Do you not /understand/, you simpletons? All I have to do is throw a lit match and your sist-- /What in the fuc--/!” the voice changed from commanding to panicked when Faustina herself burst into flames. The fire had started from her own hands, and spread across her body. Flames rolled down her skirt, thick and magma-like, setting the fuel at her feet on fire. There was an immediate rushing blow of black smoke.

Felicity backed away from the hole so Faustina and her fire could do the rest. The escaping duck showed no pain from the flames. She just shrugged and climbed out. The speakers crackled but no voice.

“/Coward/!” Faustina yelled as she got out of the cell, rolling back the glass with the heat. “Why didn’t I think of this?”

“We are underneath a gas station. Might want to tone down the fire,” Felicity suggested. She looked up at where the fuel was still dripping. A few options on what to do rolled around in her mind. “Why is this bothering me more than any other villain we fought?”

“I dunno. More the peeps we beat up tend to rob banks or fight other heroes, so, uh,” Faustina said, the flames disappearing in wisps of black smoke until not even a spark was left. The entire cell floor was covered in flames still. Despite having been set on fire, not a single part of Faustina’s body, even her clothes, had been burned or harmed. However, there was black smudging along the hem of her skirt. “... You’re gonna get my dry cleaning bill.”

“Yeah, we’ve never had to fight a killer that's been taking out… defenseless people,” Felicity mumbled, still watching the dripping gasoline. 

Faustina noticed the change in her sister’s tone. “Look, I can be a reverse conscience, bein’ all for tearing this guy apart. Is that what you want to do?” Faustina leaned in close to her twin, twinkle-eyed. “Really, I’d like to have that family bonding girls’ night /finally/.” 

“No...” Felicity replied quietly. Another moment’s pause, then she asked, “Can you resurrect the bodies in the freezer?”

“Yes,” Faustina said without hesitation. 

Felicity opened the nearest door, finding it to be a closet with the usual cleaning supplies. She handed Faustina a push broom. Not exactly what she hoped for but it would work. 

“I’ll go after him. You get the victims out of here,” Felicity said as she pointed to the hole in the ceiling that Faustina had originally fallen from.

The blonde witch gave a nod and got on the broom, flying out the available exit. Felicity took a ladder from the closet, used it to climb up into a different opening.

-------

Mr. Canis, a mild-mannered gas station owner with a shotgun in hand, was now running out of his business as fast as his legs could carry him.

Well, not that mild mannered, since he would often trap a lone 3 AM traveler or two, and force them to play his sadistic death games he held below the gas station. “A sacrifice to Fate during the bewitching hour” is what he called it. And two tired women on a road trip were just the perfect meals to feed the beast.

Metaphorical beasts. Not monsters like these two were. 

Mr. Canis had made a mistake. He had seen the warning signs! …Though, could the blonde filling the super size one liter soda cup with nothing but nacho cheese really count as a warning sign? After all, she did put a fifty dollar bill on the counter and said to charge her as much as he needed for extra cheese. This weird girl who he’d now just seen catch on fire and come out completely unscathed without any show or sign of pain.

Mr. Canis wasn’t going to stick around to see what the witch’s equally oddball sister could do. 

To think an hour ago his biggest concern was she might be a cop. The way she had just... inspected things on the shelves so tentatively. Actually stood there at the counter for a moment, reading the back of a bag of chips. And then, when he was ringing her up, she just smiled at him like she knew him. Asked how his day was with a strangely large amount of curiosity. 

Mr. Canis assumed the woman must know him--better yet, know what he did. Knew about the puzzles, the games. Knew about the sacrifices he had made to Fate. He could see it in her eyes.

There was a rattling of metal coming from right behind him. He ran across the small parking lot, toward the grass of the surrounding woods. He heard the rattle again. Like a horror movie, he just had to check, see the source of the sound--

The canine’s feet were back on the pavement. The rattling came from the steel door to the room containing all the fuel tanks. There was faint knocking from within--specifically one tank with a small “door” locked up. Mr. Canis laughed despite his fear; one of these so-called “powerful” women were now trapped by a simple metal lock on a rusty old door.

He stopped laughing when the lock broke after another couple knocks. Seemingly with no force either. With one more push, Felicity climbed out of the tank, drenched. Instead of the strong scent of gasoline, she was soaked in cola. 

Mr. Canis was all the more confused when harmless brown soda could be seen (and smelled) in the fuel tank, instead of the gasoline that would be more harmful for this girl to swim in. He was frozen, flabbergasted. How could the hoses for the syrup to the soda fountains even be out here? They must have been diluting the fuel he was using for the traps.

When Mr. Canis snapped out of his daze, he found the black-haired duck glaring back at him in silence. If looks could kill, he’d be dead and buried.

Felicity had been excited to meet the Prime-verse counterpart of the Nega-verse gas station owner she was friends with. She had expected a grumpy version of the man that ran her favorite Nega-verse stop. Maybe throw out loitering teens instead of offering them free day-old donuts. It was going to be amusing. Be fun.

Not deadly.

Mr. Canis fired a shot at her, and it missed. Missed even at point blank. Sure, she had tilted her torso just slightly left, but it should have still hit something! Mr. Canis wasn’t an amateur when it came to firearms. 

Felicity abruptly grabbed the gun. One hand around the top of the barrel, and the other farther down the shaft. Mr. Canis' finger was still curled around the trigger, and he fired another shot. In an instant, she bent and raised the barrel so the shot went into the air.

Felicity gained leverage and let one hand go of the gun. Her free one grabbed under the canine’s arm. Mr. Canis was on his back in a flash when the smaller duck flipped him onto the ground.

Felicity held the gun now, aimed expertly at her would-be attacker. “Get up. Get inside the gas station.” 

“Look, this is all a misunderstanding. Obviously you have the blessed fortune to get through my maze of fate. You and your sister are free to go! Isn’t that wonderful? Go ahead and be on your way!” Mr. Canis was desperate; poor excuses, he knew, but he tried. Maybe the girl would be so in shock by what happened she would just leave? 

Felicity was silent, and still glaring. In that moment, Mr. Canis wished she was more talkative like the blonde. He reluctantly got up, and headed into the gas station. Felicity followed, keeping the gun pointed at his back. 

“I take it you two are going to tie me up and call the cops to come get me?” he chuckled, like he’d forgotten all about the insanity of the last ten or so minutes.

That peace did not last long. Faustina was sitting on the checkout counter. Three other women were in the station as well. Very familiar women. Awake, moving, but still cold from the freezer. Glassy eyed, they actually did not look fully alive. Just alive enough. 

“Are there more? Because those woods back there look very iffy,” Faustina questioned, as casually as someone would when looking for their lost keys. She sat in her billowy dress, legs crossed and hands resting on one bent knee. She smirked wide when the murderer was too  shocked to reply. “What? Nothing to say? What would you like to do, dearest sister?”

“We let him choose his fate,” Felicity finally spoke up. There was a glimmer in Faustina’s eye. She had never seen Felicity prone to actual violence. This was a treat. Though, she gave a disheartened pout when her sister just had to ruin it with all the lawful goody-two-shoes stuff. “We’re calling the cops, and you better sit still and stay here while we all wait for them to arrive.”

“Those three… How are they… what is… going on?” the panic returned to Mr. Canis’s voice. The same panic when he watched Faustina burst into flames as if it were nothing but a change of clothes. 

“Idiot. You have the worst luck ever. You literally, /literally/ put someone cursed by Fortuna in your fate maze, and someone blessed by demons in your fire trap. How dumb. What a /moron/. /Absolute tool!/” Faustina complained and scowled.

“I’m sure your mood’ll improve soon enough,” Felicity said, eyes rolling. She waved a hand and turned away. “I’m stepping out to call the cops. I’ve got the gun on me, but I’m sure you can handle him if he tries anything funny.”

Faustina grinned, watching her sister leave. “No problemo!” She turned her grin, now more feral, to Mr. Canis as she cracked her knuckles. “So, hey, a couple of your ‘former customers’ wanna file some complaints about your little side business here. I recommend you take them very seriously.”

Mr. Canis whimpered, looking between Faustina and the three women lumbering closer. “Are you… are you going to kill me?” he gulped.

“I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to leave it to fate. Ladies, if you get rid of him before sunrise, the spell will resurrect you. The more pain you put him through, the better the rezz,” Faustina said and grinned before turning to leave the room. She shut the door on the horrified, high-pitched shrieking and crying.

Felicity stood outside, arms crossed, like she had just caught a child eating all the cookies from the jar. 

“What? You prefer I don’t rezz them?”

“I’m pretty sure you can just transfer his life force into them without the--” Felicity’s words were interrupted by a blood curdling scream. 

“Yes, but where’s the fun in that? Karma’s a bitch, after all.”

------

Lawd the baddies in the Saw movies piss me off would love monster girls to beat the shit out of them. HUZZAH.

[i-luv-stars]

Serendipity (Pt. 2)

You are an immortal who has spent your life travelling, forced to find your home in different places around the world. One day, you meet a certain God of Mischief. What follows is a friendship that spans centuries.

Warnings: just fluff

Word Count: 3 k

A/N: This chapter is just short and sweet, don’t kill me 😩 things will start to heat up in part 3, promise x

Part 1

London. 1603.

“Get out of my way, I was here first!”

A hunchbacked woman glared at you with black, beady eyes.

You mumbled an apology and kept your head down.

Inwardly, however, you were seething. Bloody witch.

You had been waiting in line for hours to get into this theatre, and yet an ignorant peasant had the nerve to declare she was there before you.

It was events like this that reminded you how much you despised London. With it’s dirty and disease-ridden streets, it was definitely one of the worst places you had ever called home. Unfortunately, it was also one of the only places you had left to go.

“Ticket!” A man barked at you, pulling you from your thoughts.

Finally, you were at the front of the line.

Digging into your skirt’s deep pockets, you produced a solitary ticket, which the man promptly snatched from your hand.

He inspected the slip of paper closely before glancing toward you.

“Rather unusual for a woman to come to one of these things by herself.” He noted, his voice slick with suspicion.

“Have you never before come across a woman who enjoys the theatre?” You snorted.

The man eyed you with disdain. “Your seat is on the left.” He grumbled, handing the ticket back to you.

Satisfied, you gave him a slight smile before stepping inside.

The Globe Theatre was one of the most popular spots in London, and tonight proved to be no exception. The centrepiece of the room, the polished and intricately carved stage, was surrounded by peasants, all clamouring for the best standing room. Behind them, rows of seats stretched for as far as the eye could see. Those able to afford tickets sat there now, talking excitedly with friends and family. The air was abuzz with light chatter and laughter.

You had been saving up for weeks to afford a ticket. As you looked around at the beautiful theatre, you couldn't stop your lips from stretching into a wide grin.

Just as you took your seat, the curtain drew open.

As the play went on, you were lulled into serenity by the actor’s calm voices. During one particular soliloquy, the late afternoon sun fell gently on your face, and you found yourself becoming nostalgic about the warm evenings you had spent in Florence.

To daydream about such things was odd, as you generally regarded your time in Italy as a complete disaster. One that you were trying to erase from your memory completely. But here, in grey and dirty London, you couldn't help but reminisce about the days you had spent under the orange sun, walking amongst olive fields and rose gardens.

And, of course, there was something- rather, somebody- in particular that you couldn't stop thinking about.

Loki had been a particularly stubborn memory. You hadn't seen him since that day he had rescued you from your wedding and yet, you often caught yourself dreaming about his piercing green eyes and his raven black hair. Admittedly, deep down, some small part of you did wish that you could see him again.

But such thoughts were fruitless, you knew. He had most likely forgotten about you. You were sure he was surrounded by far more interesting people on that Asgard he always spoke of.

Not that it matters, anyway, you remind yourself. You had been alone for a long while now. That was just how it was, and most likely how it always would be.

You turned your attention back to the stage.

“…he that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man; and he that is more than a youth is not for me, and he that is less than a man, I am not for him.”

“Gods, she’s being awfully dramatic, is she not?” The man to your left mumbled, his head bent in your direction.

You hummed in response. But, just as the actor launched into another monologue, you were hit with a sudden realisation.

That voice…

It couldn't be. You had just been thinking about him.

You turned towards the man, your mouth dropping open in shock. Sure enough, his eyes were sparkling green in the sunlight.

“Loki!” You gasped, much louder than you had intended to.

Several people hissed at you to be quiet.

“Miss me?” He asked, a smirk playing at his lips.

“What are you doing here?” You whispered. “How did you even find me?”

“Are you really so shocked?” The god asked with a grin.

You supposed you weren't.

“Now, are you coming with me or not?” He asked, reaching out a hand.

“Coming with you?” Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Loki, what do you mean-”

But before you could finish, Loki grabbed your hand in his and wrapped your arms around his waist. “Hold on tight.” He whispered into your ear.

And with a snap of his fingers, you both disappeared from the theatre, as if you had never been there at all.

**

“Loki, where in the world are we?” You asked, gently removing your hands from his body. Your mind was spinning.

“Look around you.” The young god declared, thrusting his arms outwards. “Where do you think we are?”

As your vision slowly cleared, you took in your surroundings. With a gasp, you realised that you were surrounded by rows and rows of food. Shelves, lined with wheels of cheese and piles of fruit, towered above you. Dried meat and sausages, bulbs of garlic and strings of herbs dropped from the ceiling. Barrels of wine and bottles of liquor covered the far wall.

“Unless we’re in your personal pantry, I’m guessing we are not supposed to be in here.” You whispered.

“Oh, relax,” he reassured, placing a hand on your back, “we’re perfectly safe in here, I promise.”

“Well, why are we here, anyway? I haven't seen you in 125 years, and then you just show up, kidnap me and take me here?”

“Ah,” Loki grinned, “keeping track of the years, are we?”

Your cheeks blushed furiously. “No, I was just… guessing.”

The god began to inspect the food-laden shelves. “Want one?” He asked, turning to you with a bunch of grapes in his hand.

“No,” you growled, “what I want is an explanation to why I am here.”

“Fine.” He sighed. “I got bored again. And hungry. Normally, I would just raid the palace kitchens. But today, I thought I should go on an adventure. And check up on you. See if you were still as pretty as I remember…”

You rolled your eyes.

“Oh, stop being so grumpy.” He demanded, taking a bite out of an apple. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you were the one crying last time I left. I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

Bastard. Of course he’d bring that up.

“Fine.” You huffed, sitting down on the wooden floor. “I just wish you hadn't taken me from the middle of that play. I saved up for a long time for that ticket, you know.”

“You call that mess a play?” Loki snorted, filling a tray with food. “I could hardly bear it. You’re lucky I watched it for as long as I did.”

“But it was one of William Shakespeare’s.” You uttered in disbelief. “Everyone is saying he’s the best playwright to have ever lived…”

“Shakespeare? I’ve never heard of him.” He said, sitting down next to you. “It’s a shame mortals can’t come to Asgard. Otherwise, I’d take you there and show you what a real play is.”

“Oh,” your eyes lit up as he mentioned that name again, “tell me about Asgard.”

The god shoved a slice of cheese in his mouth. “I’d rather not.”

“Please,” you begged, eyes wide, “I don’t care if it’s a long story. We have all the time in the world.”

Loki glanced towards you, taking in your big eyes and your pouted lips.

“Fine.” He sighed, exasperatedly.

Your face broke out in a grin. He began to speak…

Loki told you of a world of gods and goddesses, a realm overlooked by a gilded golden palace, where both the fiercest warriors and the fairest maidens lived. He spoke of Vikings, of Norse mythology and stories whispered around campfires. Then, of elves and frost giants, of magical beasts and skilled dwarves. His words rendered you breathless with wonder.

“You must love your home.” You observed, interrupting him.

He turned to face you, his head tilting slightly. “Why do you say that?”

“Your eyes,” you responded, “when you talk about Asgard, they light up.”

The god frowned slightly. “Asgard is indeed beautiful, but… it is not without its faults.”

“What do you mean?”

“Being Odin’s son, it comes with strict requirements. For as long as I can remember, I have been judged on everything I do.” Loki’s voice was different, now. Cold as steel. “And for as long as I can remember, everything I have done, has fallen short…”

You glanced towards his fists. They were clenched tight.

“My brother, Thor,” he continued, “has always been my father’s favourite. I love him, but he is a fool, and reckless… and yet no matter how much I prove I am the better successor for the throne, my father refuses to see reason.”

You didn’t know what to say. You had only known Loki a short while, but he had always been cheeky and lighthearted, always wearing that permanent smirk. Now, he was different…

You grabbed his hand slightly, wrapped your fingers in between his.

“I understand your frustration. I know how terrible fathers can be, trust me…” You said, your voice gentle, reassuring.

The god looked at your fingers entwined with his. You sat in silence for a moment.

Finally, he spoke.

“So all I have to do to get you to touch me is be sad? Let out a little emotion?” His smirk had returned back to his face.

You let go of his hand. “You’re insufferable…”

He just laughed.

You sighed and stole an apple from his tray.

“Alright, I’m sorry.” Loki said, meeting your eyes with his green ones. “Thank you. For being nice.”

You rolled your eyes as you took a bite of your apple.

“Alright, it’s your turn. Where are you from?”

You froze. Goosebumps prickled at your flesh.

That was a topic you definitely did not want to talk about.

Loki seemed to notice your discomfort. “Or… you don't have to. We’ve been sitting here for hours. How about we have a little fun?”

You raised an eyebrow. “If this involves me taking my clothes off…”

“No,” he reassured, waving a hand, “nothing of the sort. I was thinking more that type of fun.”

You followed his line of sight. He was looking directly at the dozens of barrels of alcohol.

You smiled back at him. That did seem like fun.

**

Two hours later, the two of you laid down on the floor. You were both very tired and very, very drunk.

“I can’t believe you just drunk two whole bottles of rum!” You giggled.

“And I can’t believe you could barely finish half of a bottle…” Loki teased.

“Well, we can’t all be gods like you.” You breathed, staring up at the ceiling.

“That is true.”

Loki stretched his arms out, and wrapped one around your shoulders. Normally, you would move away. But right now, you were far too intoxicated to care.

“You know,” you sighed, inching closer towards his chest, “I lied before. I was counting the years…”

“I’m the God of Lies, Y/N.” He smirked. “I could tell.”

“I was just scared you wouldn't show up. Because I’m just always so… lonely. I never really had a family, and all my friends died a long time ago and-”

You stopped to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall.

“-just, thank you. For showing up. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

It was silent for a moment.

“Don’t cry.” Loki eventually muttered, his fingertips gently tracing your shoulder. “I only came back because I was bored.”

“You’re really rude.” You hiccupped. “I’d hit you if I wasn’t so drunk.”

“I’m a god.”

“What does that have to do with being polite?”

“Everything.” He laughed. “And nothing, I suppose.”

“You’re being confusing.” You said, yawning.

“Honestly, I don’t think I know what I’m talking about either.”

You laughed as you snuggled closer into his chest. A voice in the back of your head reprimanded you for getting so close to him. You knew you shouldn’t, you knew it was dangerous to allow yourself to get close to anyone, especially after last time…

But you were so cold and he was, surprisingly, warm. And you could barely keep your eyes open.

“You can go to sleep.” Loki whispered, curling his arm tighter around you. “I don’t mind.”

Grateful, you closed your eyes. “Goodnight, Loki.” You mumbled, before falling asleep.

The god watched you as you slept. He saw the way your chest slowly rose and deflated, and how your eyelashes seemed to flutter slightly, and how the moonlight that snuck in through the rafters made your skin glow.

As he watched you, he had two clear, distinct realisations.

The first was that he was quite sure he’d never, in all his years, seen anyone or anything as beautiful as you in that moment.

And, his second realisation, was that he was now faced with the task of telling you that you had just spent the night sleeping in the Queen of England’s pantry.

Well, Loki thought, resting his chin on the top your head, he would just have to deal with that in the morning.

And so, closing his eyes, he went to sleep.

Taglist

@dark-night-sky-99 @marveloushiddles @mrslaufeyson @bright-guava @apyat @imagine-that-100

[thedeviltohisangel]

A Gilded Cage//1

Tem knows, in that moment, that just because her cage was gilded made no difference.

inspired by and dedicated to @whirlybirbs​

masterlist is my url/writing

send me your thoughts on this, i apologize for the lack of accent marks

Duty was something she understood perfectly. There were higher forms of loyalty than to oneself. There was time where that was hard for her to grasp. She didn’t want to. Her head was filled with so many ideas and the galaxy was filled with so many possibilities. She wanted the opportunity to explore them all. Wanted the freedom that came with it. The sense of anonymity that had escaped her ever since her sister had been elected queen all those years ago.

It was then, in her little ten year old mind, that she began to learn about institutions. That Theed Palace was more powerful in what it represented than what it actually was. That the intricate colors painted on her sister’s face symbolized much more than they looked like. That every piece of her life was now planned before it happened. Serendipity was gone. Coincidence was dead. Monotony in its place.

She does still enjoy the luxurious colors and fabrics that handmaidens drape on her body. Still feels the power of the Queens before her when a headpiece is fitted onto her. But she misses the ability to show emotion. Cry when she is sad. Smile when she is happy. Dance when the music is calling her name.

It was after the third attempt on her life that her sister had decided to intervene. This man had gotten too close. Had broached the inner circle to corner her at night. It was time to tighten the loop around the Queen of Naboo.

“I think I’ve found a suitable candidate to join your security team.” Padme was back for a short time from Coruscant. She was daintily eating a pear when the topic of security came up. Ophelie knew it would eventually.

“Is it some halfway trained Jedi?” Her sister was spending more and more time around the members of the order. She wouldn’t be surprised if she was looking to push one on her as well.

“No. A man Anakin met in Felucia. He was injured and is looking for somewhere safe to heal. I thought here would be the perfect place.”

“If he was injured, how am I to know he is a suitable guard for me?”

“Because I have seen him in battle myself. Spoken with him afterwards. He is decent and respectful and will not bend to your attitude the way those in the past have.” Ophelie gently laid down her utensils and dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a cloth.

“Is this about you controlling me then? It is because being a Senator is not as fulfilling as you thought?” Ophelie already felt controlled by advisors and the need to do what the people who elected her wanted. The last thing she needed was her sister planting someone in the palace to keep an eye on her and enact her agenda.

“I suggest you sleep on it. He will be here in the morning and I expect you to make a good first impression.”

----

Tem hadn’t been able to shake the sour taste from his mouth. It was worse than anything he had scrounged for on the battlefield. Worse than any of the bland food they had fed him on Kamino. It was the word that kept ringing around his head that put the taste there. Reassigned. To him, it meant he had failed. His designated purpose was no longer achievable by him. He had been laid up in the medbay where the inkling of termination had crossed his mind. The stiffness of his leg and the vague burning in his abdomen weren’t going away with the bacta treatments. They had taken root within him. And when his Commander informed him they needed the space for more serious injuries, he took it like a shot to the chest.

Naboo was far away from the war zone but Tem knew it would touch all life eventually if it hadn’t by proxy already. His fellow soldiers had told him he was lucky to get out. Lucky to go to a land with flowing green grass and crystal water. At least they had heard that was how Naboo looked. Tem supposes he was lucky just to be able to see the world outside of Kamino and Geonosis and Felucia. 

She was stoic the first time he saw her. Her hair twisted and pinned in a way he immediately thought looked constraining. Her face a pure white with the red markings that indicated her status as royalty. She was startlingly beautiful. Ethereal and not temporal. Tem knows, in that moment, that just because her cage was gilded made no difference.

“Captain Tem, it so lovely to see you again.” Padme stepped forward and offered her hand.

“Senator. Your Majesty.” He bowed the way the Senator had showed him to before she left the medbay.

“Captain. It is an honor to have a soldier as skilled as yourself joining my household.” Ophelie couldn’t help but stare at him. Padme hadn’t warned her it was a clone but she should have gathered that herself. He didn’t look like any man she had met before. He was handsome in a way that made her extremities tingle. His eyes weren’t glazed over or power hungry the way other men’s were when they looked at her. It was unnerving. She no longer had the upper hand because she had never dealt with his kind before. “This is my handmaiden, Qui, and she will be showing you to your quarters.” Quie stepped forward and introduced herself.

“Right this way, Captain.” He bowed to excuse himself from the Queen’s presence before taking his bags and following the young woman towards Theed Palace.

“Do you think you can find it in yourself to tolerate him?” Padme asked as the Captain disappeared through the entryway.

“Did you warn him I am a challenging person to be around?” Her sister smirked her confirmation. “Yet you did not warn me about his eyes,” she whispered as she kept her gaze on the spot where had just been.

“What about them?” Padme asked with a furrowed brow.

“Out of all the men I have met since becoming Queen, he is the only who seems to have actually seen me.”

[polarisavi]

Hi! big, HUGE fan of your band au! could you write something from it? like, anything at all or you can totally ignore this message too. no problemo

hey anon! I’m not sure when i’ll make a full on sequel, but please have this scene that will be part of any sequel and has been clear in my head since writing somehow escape. it takes place before lucas’ european tour when they’re both in france. i’m not sure what you expected, but after all the pining of the last one I wanted to write them cozy and together, so i hope you like it. and sorry this took a few days! i wanted to finish up something else before writing it. 

eliott is taller than him, but not that much broader, so some of lucas’ shirts slide over his shoulders easily and sit inconspicuous on his frame. it takes a few minutes to even notice the shirt, honestly. lucas’ hair is still wet from the shower, stray water drops tickling his neck, muscles pleasantly buzzed from a morning run, and the familiar burgundy shirt is rendered largely irrelevant relative to eliott. eliott, awake but still in bed where lucas left him earlier, rolling out of bed with the small knowing thrill that, unlike other times, leaving eliott in bed is only temporary, that he will be able to roll right back into him when he returns, will not be separated by obligations that force the thread between them elastic. eliott, sleep soft and probably still warm, staring out the window and undoubtedly a thousand miles away. eliott, who, regardless of where his thoughts have taken him, has a guitar on his lap and is coaxing something beautiful out of it. 

eliott demaury, lead guitarist of award winning indie pop band intricate teacups, film student, raccoon enthusiast, and lover of virginia woolf, abstract art and lucas lallemant. 

it still feels like a trick, sometimes, like he’s stumbled into something fantastic and fun and finite, just waiting for someone to tap his shoulder and drag him away. sorry sir there’s been a mistake, this was never meant for you. except eliott has noticed him now, eyebrows flicked up in a question (most likely about why lucas is standing in the doorway, still and silent, instead of crawling into bed, or making them coffee) and an easy smile on his lips. the song morphs suddenly, between one chord and the next, into a familiar comfortable arrangement, one he used to listen to non stop. it’s a reminder, yes, an inside joke between them no one else is allowed to be let in on, but also a prompt for lucas to do something, to get into arms reach, to talk or move. lucas takes the invitation for what it is, and sings a few words quietly as he crosses the room. 

“well, i’ll run, babe, but i’ll come running, straight to you.“ 

it has the desired effect, and by the time lucas crawls over the bunched up sheets eliott is giggling, eyes gilded in delight, and the guitar categorised as secondary, shoved to the side and scooping lucas in his arms instead to take its place. lucas’ knees land on either side of his thighs and eliott’s hand lands, as it always does when they’re in this position, on the tattoo on his thigh, only a couple months old. mari had done it herself, in the end, rolling her eyes but acquiescing when he’d asked. it’d been a few years since she had worked as a tattoo artist professionally, officially, but her talent hadn’t faded an ounce, smiling and serious as she took a needle to his skin. bunches of tangled flowers, vivid petals and unexpected thorns and curled up leaves, peer through the spaces between eliott’s fingers. lucas’ arms loop around his neck, and he nudges their noses together, gently leans forward to place his forehead on eliott’s, his skin humming and breathing easy.

unbidden it reminds him of that death cab song imane adores about distance and yearning. her boyfriend, sofiane, of soft eyes and endless support and spectacular dance moves, who lucas has yet to meet, has spent the previous few years out of the country frequently, obligations in morocco that imane isn’t always able to join him in due to her own job. it’s hardly the exact same situation, but lucas understands why she listens to it a lot; he is always surprised, though perhaps he shouldn’t be, that they have so much in common. the lyrics, particularly applicable when they were apart, are somehow still relevant. most of the time any great space between them feels villainous; his skin, craving eliott’s, their hands tangled, ankles crossed, shoulders pressed close, anything. 

i need you so much closer. 

eliott leans back so they can see each other properly. “where did you go this morning? sleeping with the aircon only works if you’re there to keep me warm,” he adds with a teasing pout, thunderstorm eyes glinting in the light streaming through the window. 

lucas mirrors his pout but runs a hand across his head, fingers scratching lightly. in response eliott leans forward, head almost on lucas’ shoulder. “poor baby. i went for a run. and i was thinking we should go to the ocean today, if you want?" 

eliott huffs out a laugh, a flutter of warm air on his shoulder. "i want. i thought we were having lunch with mari, though?" 

"we still are. i was thinking later on, around sunset, maybe. i know a place, it’ll be chill. quiet.” 

"quiet as in not crowded?" 

"yeah. or, it usually isn’t.”

“perfect,” he says, the corner of his lips tilted up in the way that means he’s planning something, a secret tucked into his cheek.

speaking of, “what were you playing? i don’t think i’ve heard it before.”

“it’s new. i, uh, accidentally overhead an argument yesterday and got inspired,” he answers, sheepish but not ashamed, amusement twitching his lips. 

“lovers quarrel?”

“no, i think it they were friends. i’m mostly sure the argument was officially about gardening techniques but it sounded very…personal.”

lucas considers this. “broccoli as a metaphor?

they’re so close he can feel eliott’s chest bounce as he laughs, the sound vibrating right into his own body. “exactly, broccoli as a metaphor, and maybe snowpeas too.”

they just smile at each other for a small stretch of seconds, before somthing occurs to him. “have you eaten yet? had any coffee?” eliott shakes his head, so lucas kisses his cheek. "i’ll bring you something.”

“lucas, you don’t have to.”

“i know. i want to. and i’m hungry too, so it’s not entirely selfless. be right back." 

in the kitchen he makes a bee line to the fridge, already knowing exactly what he wants. sitting on the second shelf is a bowl of lychees, almost overflowing, gifted to him by arthur, who in turn had been given way more than any one person could ever need as payment for a piece of jewellery he’d given them. it had been a beautiful ring, the band composed of three braided strands textured like tree branches, and made out of recycled black metal. it was definitely worth the boxes of fruit and jars of honey and jam he had received in return, even if a lot of the produce had to be passed forward before it could rot. that night, a considerable portion of his payment was used for making various daiquiris and desserts, the close circle of friends he’d managed to maintain despite his restlessness cluttered into arthur’s kitchen, overly spoiling his dog with treats and attention, yelling over the video games and spanish music someone, probably mahdi or esra, had put on, the remnants of rum and cherry crumble and pavlova on every available surface. 

it’d happened a few nights before eliott arrived. he should try and organise something like it again, before he leaves. he can picture it vividly, suddenly, wisps of how eliott would fit into their group drifting across his mind like they’ve already happened. it makes his heart go terribly soft, thinking about how easily eliott fits into his life. how gently they’d bumped into each other, and how natural it felt falling into the possibility of them. if he was someone else, lucas might think the word fate, or destiny. as it is, he thinks about entropy and serendipity, the sea of chaos that put them in the same room, the deliberate choice of everything that came after. 

he returns to his room with a tray laden with a pot of coffee, two mugs, a bowl of lychees, and the portable speaker that he’d left in the living room. he places it on the bed but snatches the speaker and moves it to the desk in the corner. eliott doesn’t like any of the properly hard music lucas has in his library, so he opts for pantera, quiet enough for them to speak at normal volumes. if and when eliott gets sick of it, he will not be shy about telling lucas. until then, he sets his favourite album on repeat and focuses his attention where it should be. 

eliott has already dragged the tray close and broken open a lychee, juice glistening on his fingers. his house is high up and the view outside his window beautiful, early enough that the sky is partially bruised yellow and pink, the sunrise not yet flattened out. when he settles close to eliott, their knees bumping together, he is handed a mug of coffee.

"i like being in your city, with you here to show me all of its secrets. it’s nice seeing you so settled. comfortable.” ‘as opposed to in america’ is left unsaid. 

“you’ll have to do the same when i visit you in paris. tiny, overlooked secrets or bust, baby.” aka show me the places that are imbued with meaning and memories for you, too.

“i already have an itinerary,” eliott says solemnly. coming from anyone else lucas would presume it a joke, but with eliott he might be serious, a carefully crafted list of places they could enjoy together sitting innocently in his phone, or a notebook, a collection of neon post it notes. 

he pivots, shoulder perpendicular to the wall, to face him properly. “we’ll need to figure out when i can visit you. the semester starts in about a month, right? and then it’ll only be a handful of weeks before i have to go back to the states for rehearsal and then directly to dublin.”

eliott smooths a hand over lucas’ shoulder, down his arm, and it does settle him some, but not all, nervousness fluttering in his gut. “i know we do,” he says, low and faintly plaintive. “is it awful that i want to be selfish and, just, not think about that yet? it’s so much nicer only focusing on this day,” a kiss on lucas’ forehead, “this hour,” a kiss on the bridge of his nose, “this minute,” a kiss on his cheek, “here with you.”

he opens his mouth to say - something, but eliott holds a lychee to his lips and he bites into that instead, cold and lush. delicious and gives him time to think of a proper response.

“i think that we should talk about it soon, before you have to leave, but…yeah, okay, we can be selfish. i’d like that.”

he is reminded, once again, of entropy and choice. nothing is ordained, or destined, and any future days between them not promised by the universe. recognising his active participation feels almost startling, his mind wide awake. eliott steals his phone to turn off the music and pick up his guitar, hand big on the neck, crafting something jaunty and stumbling, fingers occasionally tripping over decisions. 

lucas breaks open another lychee.

[cardansriddle]

GILDED SERENDIPITY CHAPTER 3 WHENNNN!!!!!!

i am dying pls i need chapter 3😚

exam season ends in a week sooo i'm happy to tell you sometime after a week you'll get chapter 3! + phantom of the opera au 😋

[axiom-of-man-blog]

Chapter 2 Year 15 PDE (Pre-Dawn of Eminence)

Come my way and hurry along I’ll take you soaring with the angels and gods Leave your prison chains on the wall You’ll live forever and you’ll never fall -The Teeth of Sea & Beast

  Tennessee is a state of stagnate morals and aspirations, snake handlers and haunted mountains.  Ages ago the mountains were aglow with mines and stills, in the business of finding material wealth or liquid salvation.  Of course many men died in these mines to fill the greed of the men who owned them.  A mine would collapse with everyone buried within a tomb of desires and desperation. Instead of rescuing these people the owner would just pick up shop and burrow somewhere else into the heart of the mountains. When this industry dried up, in the mountains many towns were abandoned after being stricken with poverty. The god fearing south blamed the north the loss of the souths virtue, the loss of their ideals. In a world where Men are marrying men, women are leading the great free world, and god is being pushed out of schools. In this land of phantoms that wallows in gods shadow I feed my vice of adventure.  The mines are what interested me; many of the mines were abandoned and were not closed properly. These are a hazard to society with random sink holes and the occasional dumb-ass wandering in, getting lost and suffocating from the fumes. In a world where there is nothing undiscovered the only adventure is to rediscover, and uncover things hidden. I am fawning for anything to happen. Living at the campus as an RA has its benefits. Free living, being able to boss around my peers about their dorms, confiscates alcohol and drugs. Excitement in the summer is something it’s lacking.  Eli, my roommate shares my interest in exploration and getting out of this prestigious mire.  He mentioned his grandfather would tell ghost stories about a mine near his old home in a town south east of Tellico Plains: Serendipity. The Serendipity mine was closed by a new owner; who laid off all the miners.  The families left, their lively hood pulled out from under their feet, there was nothing left for them. His grandfather, the youngest son of one of those miners relayed stories his father told. “The reason people left wasn’t because of the mine closing, it was because the woods became sour.  Things lurked in the night, and people disappeared, children taken from their beds. People who went to the mine never returned. The people who had enough sense to leave early are the only ones who didn’t go missing. Anyone else who ever happened upon the mine could hear the screams of their tortured souls coming from the ground.” The old man obviously liked to scare his son, an atavism that he passed down all the way to Eli. Eli, Who being African American had mixed feelings about the south but a Haunted abandoned mine? He was all in. Like me he loved the mystery. I at this point would take any excuse to leave this place. I have grown tired of the lectures on robotics, ethics, and forecasting the future of tech. This was more than enough to draw me in; the only problem is with no one ever going around the place for more than a hundred years is it isn’t on any map. Although The Town we managed to find via a scan of an old map offered online; far easier than we thought.   The town lies about 2 miles off of a road by the bald river falls east of Tellico plains. There are some roads that go nearby and we would have to hoof it from there. Since there are no real trails heading towards the area. We came prepared for the amazon. Backpacks, A couple hammock tents, machetes, GPS and a day or two worth of supplies.  So now, after spending what felt like days in the car driving from my dorm at MIT we find ourselves in another country entirely. People are driving vehicles that have no business being on the road. They are held together with scarps, tape and prayer. With  the amount of black smoke coming from  some of their the exhaust it’s no wonder the ice caps are almost gone. Large Crosses were along major road ways. Churches were nestled in every town so many I could easily lose count. Signs outside declaring “ God Hates Fags”  and other Neanderthal rhetoric.  The air so thick with humidity it was palpable, it’s as oppressive as our walk through a promised land of an unfamiliar doctrine. The heaviness of the god fearing people let up when we made it to Tellico Plains. It was still humming in the background; a tinnitus of a laconic God glowering at our sins, despite being very touristy.  We found a lodge on a road through the mountains fairly close to our get off point. At least here my silver Audi doesn’t feel so out of place amongst the other tourist. The lodge was a beautiful log cabin building filled with the rustic appeal of a pottery barn. A gilded look at the pathos of the dark south.

  The night is restless, Eli fiddles with his camera making sure we will be able to capture the whole thing and put it on his blog.

“Hey man, think there is anything even left there?” I ask

“I don’t know Jason… hundred years is a long time and this humidity would rot anything.” Eli said

He lays back on his bed.

“We should be able to find some foundations.. or stuff like that. The mine will be the hard part.

“Maybe we should look at a topographic of that area maybe that will-.”

“Nope already did, I have a few ideas where it could be but nothing solid.” He said. We think in silence for a moment. I could tell the gears were working…  

“I even looked on urban exploration forums, there is abandoned shit all over these mountains… It’s like no one ever comes to this area.”

“Maybe they know better” I say reflecting on the stories he has told me.

“Jason… really? I know the stories creeped me out when I was like 8. But you can’t think there is anything to them.” He states with a dismissive laugh. He waves his hands as if shoeing away the thought.

“Who knows it may not be monsters or ghost but just a bitch to get to.”  I say as I roll over and With that I drift off to a deep dreamless sleep lulled by the air conditioner.

We awake the next morning. The dread of the previous day has been washed away and we embark early in the morning.

“Shit… Jason it’s not even 8 and it’s in the fucking 80s…”

“Welcome to the Great Smoky mountains boys!”

We both turn to see an elderly man walking towards us. Despite the heat he is wearing jeans and a button up shirt buttoned to the wrist.  

“Uh hi” I say awkwardly.

“Not from around here obviously” He frowns at Eli “My name is Manny…”

I shake his extended hand that he only offered to me “Hi Manny, uh, do you know anything about these woods here there doesn’t seem to be any trails south..”

“Oh couldn’t tell you why, probably not prime hiking areas out there.” He says looking into the woods. “Well you boys have fun and stay safe… and hydrated!” “We have some large water bottles in the gift shop if you need any” He waves beckoning us as he walks.

“Bastard wouldn’t even look at me” Eli say annoyed.

“Sorry man, even tan I can pass for Italian or Greek or some shit.”

“Yeah yeah yeah… lets go Paco.”

He half smirks at me as he walks to the car.

We drive to the point that’s closest as far as we can tell to the remains of the town.  We park on the side of the road put on our back packs, spray each other down with sunscreen and start walking following a waypoint on the GPS we brought. Despite there not being a path it wasn’t hard walking in most spots. The woods here were all old growth tall as buildings and trunks wider than the span of our arms.  

We were the loudest things in the woods, clumsily stomping snapping branches crushing leaves our packs adding extra weight and some of the contents rattling.  

There was a shift at some point during the hike, the air went from sweltering and viscous to dry and cool, the light seemed to go dim as if in a perpetual state of twilight. The woods became muted, our footsteps echoed as if we were walking a grand empty hall. I stopped and felt as if we are trespassing, that we are walking through a sacred place and judging eyes are all around; ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. Eli is too busy working with the map he printed off and the GPS trying to figure out our exact location.  The mountains were messing with the signal; we were chasing a waypoint that was hopping around sending us in different directions.  

“Hmmm we should be getting close”  Eli says to more himself than me.

I notice a break in the trees up past Eli and walk towards it, noticing as I get closer the silence becomes more whole like being plunged into water.  Eli follows me without saying anything and we come to a small glade. Its spherical  with the largest willow tree I have ever seen the trunk thicker than the span of my arms and the branches spreading out  like the tentacles of a giant ancient beast. The tree choked out the light and oppressively allowed nothing to grow underneath its thick canopy besides a layer of damp moss. We walked into the shade in a reverent unspoken hush.  It seemed we walked into a complete vacuum as we approached the tree we noticed it was growing up around a large cairn on the far side. As we approached we felt as if the air was being sucked into the tree. All I could do was stand and stare. The hair stood up on my neck and my blood turned cold as I looked down at my feet and noticed something white and brittle poking up through the moss. I knelt down and picked at it with my finger until the moss gave way and I pulled up half a skull of a small animal. It was cold to the touch as I looked around I noticed more bones peeking through the moss under the tree. A natural ossuary of sorts, what could have done this? An animals feeding ground perhaps?

“Holy shit, I think I found it!” Eli shouted, severing my thoughts. I dropped the skull and ran to him as I went around the tree and saw the full breadth of the cairn. It is a large slab rock leaning on a pile of large rocks stabilized by a wooden frame.  The wood looks old, but sturdy. As we approached I noticed the wood hardly looks like it has rotted at all.  As we stood before the small opening, we could feel the air rushing through us and into the hole in the ground. With a snap the entrance was illuminated with Eli’s flashlight, I turn mine on too and we start our decent.  We walk carefully trying not to fall and slip on the damp rocks trying not to hit our heads on the wooden frames holding up the earth.

“This is so spooky” Eli’s voice reverberates down the shaft.   Our footsteps pierce the silence and echo all around us as if there are dozens of people walking along with us, the wind rushing in mimicked the sound of voices. A caravan of whispering shadows following us into the cold stone womb. I barely noticed Eli stopping until I nearly bumped into him. I looked past him to see he was staring at a wooden door. It was out of place, it looked solid oak, intricately carved symbols, lines interconnecting them to a large carved stone in the center with what looks like a pentagram surrounded by other shapes.. The stone was a polished black glass almost mirrored; we could make out our reflections which looked odd. It didn’t dawn on me at first why. Eli tries the knob as I stare into the glass.  I realized that the image wasn’t inverted, and the movements trailed moments after mine. A dark mime: mocking me from a window to an unnamed world.

“The door is stuck… But it’s not locked.” He said fondling the knob.

“Maybe we should leave… I don’t think this—“

“Got it!” He says as the door slowly creeks open, fighting the rust that built up over the years. The heavy door opened of its’ own volition free of either of our hands. We both just stared. The room, lavish interior was even more out of place than the door the room was large. The walls lined with shelves filled with books. A small bed, fit for a child was at one end of the room and a table with chairs at the other.  We entered slowly, waving our flashlights looking at the time capsule we walked in to. I walked to another door at the edge of the room and opened it, another old door. I don’t know what to expect, but as it opened I was relieved and disappointed to see some barrels and shelves with jars, and some dried fruits and vegetables hung in the back in netted sacks. Eli is looking at the books when we hear a noise; A gasp. We both turned, looking at the bed as a small figure started to rise.  So slight we didn’t notice it laying there.  As it rose its limbs popped and creaked like twigs snapping. It was a person… of a sort small and skinny the size of a child. Its skin was pale and grey coved in scars its head bald. Its head hung looking down it raised its hand to shield against the light.

“Puh-lease” It groaned the words almost scraped as they came out of its throat. “Extinguish... your torches.” In awe we turned off our lights. The shroud of darkness covered us. All we could hear was our breathing, until we heard its movements. Then a warm light erupted from an old oil lamp. The flamed danced in the darkness causing the shadows to leap and jump across the walls. Half of its body was illuminated with the warm light. Its head rose and looked at us. Its eyes black. No whites at all, like two voids to an abyss. It started to smile. It spoke slowly. “Greetings… Gentlemen.”

��~G�vV

[cardansriddle]

Gilded Serendipity - (tom riddle x oc)

Part 3/10: "False God"

Story summary: A summer meant to be spent in the tranquil seaside mansion of Rosier's was not supposed to sway hearts like rustling leaves. Sereia Nova was most definitely not supposed to feel drawn to Tom Riddle. Yet August had a way of weaving chaos and desire together, only to dissolve into the shadows, leaving behind a bittersweet aftermath- an ephemeral illusion of love.

(gif not mine)

PART 1 PART 2

chapter warnings: sensual themes.

A/N: took me a whileee but here is the third part!!

:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ.

The subconscious was always a bitter thing. It liked playing wicked games with its owner, taking the things the person did not want to think about out of that pocket of forbidden thoughts and bringing it to the very front of the mind. 

Sereia was cursing her brain as she was hurriedly descending the stairs. Her mind was cruel, replaying the night before like a broken film reel, unrelenting in its vividity. She could still feel the ghost of his touch trailing illicit whispers along her skin. The shape of his lips haunted her own. 

She was going insane, and there was nothing she could do to put an end to it. With that one kiss, Tom had sunk his fangs deep into her vein, poisoning her blood with the feel of him so she would not dare forget it. Sereia had spent a good hour in the bath, scrubbing her skin raw until it was red and irritated, yet his touch remained imprinted. No amount of effort could wash away his claim.

"Merlin's beard, Ria, did you sleep at all? You look like...death." 

She huffed and shot him a sharp glare. "Not in the mood, Tony.""

"Woah, alright. Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today." He grumbled, putting his hands up as if to surrender. The witch was half-tempted to hit him, but stopped when Walburga entered the room with a sly smirk curling on her lips.

"Who woke up in your bed?" She questioned. Her eyes flicked to Sereia, and they suddenly shone with mirth. "Our Sereia here? It was about time." 

Sereia's cheeks flushed at her comment, and she helplessly looked at Antoine to say something. But before he could utter a word, Avery strutted into the room.

"What was about time?" He asked lazily, barely attempting to cover his mouth as he yawned. "Well?"

"Sereia and Antoine here. Apparently they were up to no good last night." The brunette winked cheekily, and shot her an approving smile. "I must say, dear Ria, I did not know you had it in you. Always thought you were a prude."

Sereia was sure her whole face was the same shade as the maroon wine Avery was holding in his hand. The boy stared between them for a moment, before frowning. "Salazar's spit, Antoine. I wanted to woo her this summer." He paused, as if reconsidering, and then strode towards the girl. She barely registered more people filing into the room as he leaned closer to her. "But, I assure you, should you fall into my arms, I will make you see the stars. I am much better company in bed than Antoine."

"Avery, enough." Tony warned from next to her. 

Walburga laughed. "Well, Avery, Abraxas, you owe me ten galleons. They fucked before winter." 

I buried my face in my palms. "Tony!"

"Everyone, shut it. Sereia and I most definetely did not fuck. So please, shut your mouths."

"But—"

"You misheard, Walburga. She did not sleep in my bed. We are strictly platonic."

The girl seemed to recover from her embarassed state and added. "Exactly. It's more of a he's my brother type of situation and what you all are suggesting is— it's just gross."

She lifted her chin, attempting to rid herself of the embarassment and mortification that the conversation had caused. Straightening her spine, she regarded eeryone around her. They all looked either amused or confused. When her eyes met Riddle's, she had to surpress her shudder at the intensity behind his heated gaze. She could not quite read his expression, but the displeasure was as evident as ever. Flashes of the previous night suddenly invaded her mind, and she had to avert her gaze quickly lest she blushed once more. 

Clapping his hands, and snapping the girl from her brief memory lane, Antoine drew the attention to himself. "Great, let us end this conversation now!" He questioned from beside her, and she felt the ghost of his fingers brushing against her elbow in reassurance. Her gaze subconsciously saught Riddle's, and when she saw the dark look he was shooting to where Antoine's hand was touching, the girl stepped aside. Her friend shot her a confused look, but she just shrugged. 

"Can we eat now that that's settled?" She rose an expectant brow, gesturing towards the table that had already been set and filled with food. Avery was the first to break the pregnant silence, huffing and puffing about how he was starving. Seria shared a look with Antoine before following Avery's lead and taking a seat. As she placed some fruits onto her plate, the chair beside her was pulled back and she could feel before she could see that it was Riddle. It was bizarre— the way she could simply feel the air still whenever she was in his presence. It was like the very atmosphere was telling— no— warning her that he was near, that she should brace herself to face him.

His clothed arm brushed hers as he shifted, and the girl had to resist the urge to shiver. 

"Salazar's spit, Riddle, are you not parched in those clothes?" Antoine suddenly questioned, and suddenly all eyes were on the wizard. 

"Some people have the decency not to walk around naked, Rosier. Perhaps you should take notes." Walburga muttered snidely. 

"It was the middle of the night! Am I supposed to walk in a whole three-piece suit at the crack of dawn?"

"A shirt and sleeping pants would suffice." 

"Can you cut it out? This is making me lose my appetite." Abraxas grumbled abruptly, his voice slicing through the escalating bickering. A smirk of triumph flashed across his face as the table fell into a silence. He grabbed his cutlery and digged into his breakfast aggressively. 

Sereia, feeling a lack of appetite, mechanically nibbled on assorted fruits. She tuned out Lestrange and Rosier as they began squabbling again about another matter she did not care to know. She was about to reach for her goblet when a warm breath tickled her cheek, drawing her attention.

"Had I known you'd run to Rosier to finish what I started, perhaps I would not have let you slip away so easily, little siren." Tom whispered lowly, Tom murmured, his lips grazing the curve of her ear with each syllable. The girl try as she might, could not help the shudder that ran through her body.

He noticed. Of course, he did. He never missed a thing. Yet, before he could revel in his discernment, she retorted, her voice a low hiss meant to avoid alarming the others nearby. "How dare you?" she countered, struggling to keep her voice subdued. She truly could not believe the nerve of him to imply such a thing. "I did not run to anyone. Antoine and I certainly did not spend the night together, so I'd appreciate if you refrained from implying that I'm a whore."

"I never said that." 

"You implied it."

"I did not."

"Whatever. But if we are talking about whores, why not talk about you?" She turned her head to meet his gaze squarely. "You are the resident whore of Hogwarts, perhaps second place to Avery, or maybe you just hide it better." She watched as surprise flickered across his features for a fleeting moment before he swiftly masked it, as if it had never been there at all. "I will not be a plaything, Riddle. While you may find amusement in Walburga, you will not find me so compliant," she declared, her tone firm, before redirecting her attention to the others at the table. Meanwhile, Tom studied her profile, a barely perceptible smirk tugging at his lips. She was a fiery little thing, and oh how he relished a challenge. 

Not used not having the last word, he leaned to whisper in her ear once again. "You may resist all you want, but I will have you succumb to me." he murmured, his gaze searching her face for a reaction. She responded with a smirk, but she did not deign to meet his eyes. 

"Maybe I will consider it... if you beg."

He laughed loudly at that, genuinely amused at her bravery. Everyone at the table suddenly diverted their attention towards them, disbelief flashing across their features at seeing Riddle laugh. 

"Is he—"

"Salazar's spit..."

"What's so funny?"

Tom hummed softly, a languid smile lingering on his lips as he casually draped an arm over the back of Sereia's chair. She clenched her teeth in frustration at his nearness, struggling to push aside the unwelcome flood of thoughts crowding her mind. "Miss Nova here has a good sense of humour, that is all." 

Sereia lowered her gaze, avoiding the curious stares of those around her, and brought her goblet to her lips in a feeble attempt to distract herself. 

"Sereia—"

The girl sprung from her seat with far more enthusiasm than was necessary. "Time to go for a swim!" she declared with a forced smile, her discomfort palpable, before hastily departing from the table, nearly breaking into a run as she fled the house.

Walburga's gaze shifted to Tom, flickering between the self-satisfied, lazy grin etched on his face and the intensity of his gaze fixed on the doorway through which Sereia had hastily departed through mere moments ago.

"Look at little Sereia starting to charm boys." Abraxas snorted, looking at Antoine with a mirthful smile. "You will have to work overtime to ward off the boys now, mate." 

"Shut it. I do not do anything of the sort. She is free to court whomever she likes whenever she likes." He paused, rethinking his words. "Except you all."

"Really? How about the time in third year you hexed Arnold because he kissed her on the cheek?" Avery rose a brow.

"Or the time in fourth year you petrified that git who was going on a date with her?" Malfoy added.

"Remember when—"

"Alright! Alright! So fucking be it! None of you are allowed to pursue anything romantic, sexual— especially sexual— relations with her. Off-limits!" 

"Mate, that's unfair! She's not even your sister, you can't put a ban like that!" Avery whined, rolling his eyes in a very exaggerated manner. 

"She is like my little sister in every manner except by blood."

Dahlia Greengrass pouted, looking affronted at the way the wizards were behaving. "Leave it be, everyone. Would you rather ruin your friendship with Antoine by pursuing Sereia? The entirety is Hogwarts isn't enough for you all to corrupt?" She questioned. "Leave the poor girl alone."

Riddle observed the scene unfolding with a curious glint in his eyes. 

"Thank you, Dahlia." Antoine said gratefully. "Now that everything is loud and clear, let's go join Ria before she starts wondering what took us so long." 

Everyone muttered their agreement as they stood.

"Tom, would you like to head to the library first?" Walburga asked as everyone started filing out of the room. 

Tom glanced at the witch momentarily before looking away distractedly. "I shall like to rest for a bit before rejoining the company." He did not wait for a reply before striding away in the opposite direction.

Walburga watched his retreating back, the familiar bitter taste feeling her mouth as it always did whenever he disregarded her in such a belittling manner. She begrudgingly followed after the group, glancing back one last time in hopes that Tom also would, but he had already disappeared up the stairs, and the girl heaved a sigh in disappointment. 

Her sharp gaze fixated on the distant figure, observing as the girl who managed to coax a rare laugh from Tom Riddle swam gracefully in the water. Sereia Nova had never posed a threat in her mind. Antoine's best friend had always been a sweet little thing, too pure to be around the likes of them. Though Walburga harbored fondness for the girl, her desires lay elsewhere — with Tom Riddle. 

She pondered the allure that Sereia held for Tom. Was it her innocence, her sweetness? Or was she simply another conquest in his relentless pursuit to tarnish purity? Perhaps, she mused, innocence was a challenge for him, something to be conquered and corrupted at his whim.

At least that is what Walburga told herself as she smiled bittersweetly at the younger witch.

:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ.

"Ria." Antoine began, his tone firm, signaling to Sereia that a lecture was imminent. 

"I know what you're going to say, but it's nothing alright? I am not involved with Riddle...like that." Sereia interjected, her words rushed and defensive, preempting Antoine's anticipated disapproval.

Antoine's furrowed brow softened slightly, but skepticism still lingered in his gaze. With a resigned sigh, he conceded, "I will choose to take your word for it. But I will tell you this, Ria— my friends are all off-limits. They are the worst pick of the bunch for any girl." He paused, as if another thought had just invaded his already disturbed mind. "Actually, just do not go for any Slytherins. You can go for uh...Hufflepuff perhaps? They do not have a bad bone in their body. Be kind and all that shite, yeah? Yeah. No Gryffindorks either I suppose, they're all gits—"

"Tony!"

"What?"

"Would you like to arrange who I will be marrying too? Stop acting like my father. Fine, I will not date your friends out of my respect for you, but other than that you have no right to dictate who I can and can't date."

"But—"  Antoine began to protest, but Sereia cut him off with a firm stare.

"Dahlia!" Sereia's sharp call drew the attention of the girl, who began to swim over with a curious expression. Sereia shot a warning look at Antoine, silently telling him to behave.

"Yes, darling?" 

"Nothing. It's just an effective way of shutting him up." Sereia smirked, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

"What is?"

"Any mention of you." 

As Dahlia's cheeks flushed with a soft hue of pink, Antoine's face transformed into a vivid crimson, the color spreading like wildfire across his features. Sereia couldn't suppress a satisfied grin as she watched the effect of her diversion tactic unfold. "Well, I'll leave you be. It's time for my nap!" 

"You just woke up!"

"Nope, that was a while ago." "Nope, that was a while ago," she singsonged, her voice carrying over the gentle lapping of the waves as she began trudging out of the water, droplets cascading from her form like shimmering diamonds. Her eyes met Avery's across the distance, his grin mirroring her own playful one as he responded with a mock salute, the sun casting playful glimmers in his eyes.

As she approached the shore, she glanced over her shoulder at the call of her name, catching Abraxas's gaze, his eyes alight with something she could not decipher as he swam towards her, his sleek form slicing effortlessly through the water. His expression morphed into a sickly sweet smile as he drew nearer.

"My dear, dear Sereia," he greeted her with exaggerated warmth, his voice dripping with faux sincerity.

"What is it?" Sereia replied, her tone laced with playful anticipation, already bracing herself for his inevitable request.

"Would you be so kind and bring us a wine?"

Sereia raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you ask one of the house elves?"

"You see, I'm craving a particular one and seeing as the creatures can't read...it complicates things. Can you get me the Chateau d'Yquem?"

Sereia couldn't help but laugh at his audacity, her playful demeanor unwavering. "Does Antoine know you're drinking his most expensive reserves dry?" she retorted, her tone teasing

Abraxas replied with a casual shrug, his smile unapologetic. "He encourages it"

Sereia rolled her eyes. "Alright. But know that you are very annoying." She conceded, her words accompanied by a playful splash in his direction.

"Thank you, Sereia," Abraxas replied, his sweet smile bordering on saccharine as he watched her depart, a twinkle of mischief gleaming in his eyes. Sereia narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously before turning on her heel and heading out of the water. She quickly slipped on her sheer beach cover over her wet swimsuit, debating whether to change into dry clothes or return to the water after fulfilling Abraxas' request. 

She hummed a random melody as she walked away from the private beach and slipped into the garden that lead to the winery, running her hands through her wet hair and slicking it back. 

She trekked the familiar path through the greenery, each step accompanied by the gentle rustle of leaves in the warm breeze. The summer sun cast golden rays that danced across her skin, warming her with its tender caress. As she neared the fountain, its marble basin shimmered in the sunlight and the girl resisted the urge to dip her fingers into the cool water. 

"Out for a stroll, little siren?" A familiar voice, smooth as silk and laced with a taunting edge, shattered the serenity of her surroundings. 

Her movements stilled, her senses alert to the presence behind her. She hesitated to turn, wary of facing the figure who she had been trying to cast out of her mind. She knew as soon as she met his eyes the thoughts of yesterday's kiss would come back to haunt her once again—or the bold teasing she had unabashedly engaged in during breakfast.

With a steadying breath, she shut her eyes, grappling with the urge to flee or confront him. Before she could decide, a warm breath ghosted over her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. Tom had drawn closer, his proximity suffusing her with a mixture of apprehension and something she dared not name.

"Or have you come to see me beg?" He murmured into her ear. 

Suppressing the rising panic in her chest, she attempted to step away, only to find his hand firmly encircling her waist, anchoring her in place. Her breath caught in her throat as his touch ignited a flurry of conflicting emotions within her. Her gaze dropped to the hand sliding further until his entire arm covered her stomach. 

"Unhand me, Riddle. I am just going to the winery." Sereia tried to protest against his advances, her voice twinged with defiance that wavered due to his proximity.

"Are you now?" He asked, and even though she could not see him, she could feel the amused smirk that was no doubt on his face. 

"Yea—Yes. I am expected to return." She insisted.

Tom hummed, a low, tantalizing sound that sent a tremor through her core. "What a shame," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. Just as she thought he was going to let her go, he abruptly spun her around to face him. Caught off guard, she stumbled, her heart pounding erratically as she braced her hands against his chest lest she crashed into him. "You will not be going back anytime soon."

"What?"

"Can't have you running to Rosier to finish what I started. That would make me unseemly would it not?"

"Riddle, what are you say—"

"It would create the impression that I leave a lady unsatisfied. Which is insulting." His lips brushed hers with every syllable, and Sereia was finding it harder by the second to resist the temptation of him. She desperately willed herself to push him away and leave before the situation would escalate any further. But she was immobilised. He had her right where he wanted, and her traitorous body was craving him. Any further protest was cut short as his lips captured hers in a searing kiss and she found it bothersome how she did not hesitate to kiss him back. 

His lips moved with a fervent urgency, coaxing a response from her that she couldn't deny. Each brush of his mouth against hers sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her, erasing whatever had remnants of rational thought. 

Her hands moved on their own accord, sliding over his chest, collarbones, and moving up to tangle themselves in his dark hair. He groaned as she tugged at his locks and the world around her fell away at the guttural sound. His kiss was a tempest, fierce and consuming, igniting a fire within her that blazed with undeniable fervor. She yielded to him, her senses overwhelmed by the heady rush of his touch, every nerve in her body electrified.

His hand moved to the hem of sheer cover dress, fingers brushing against her inner thighs before bunching up the fabric and tugging it upwards. Tom stepped towards her, forcing her to blindly walk backwards until she felt marble digging into her back. He broke away from the kiss to momentarily lift her to sit on the edge of the fountain. 

Sereia suppressed a whine at the loss of contact, but a loud moan escaped her throat when his lips fell to the hollow of her throat and sucked, no doubt leaving a bruise with his ministrations. She should have told him to stop— or at the very least not mark her up for all to see, but she found she did not care. She wanted—no— needed more of him. 

Her fingers dropped to the buttons of his shirt, fumbling, trying to pull them open. She had only gotten half of them undone when he grabbed her wrists. "No." He panted. "This time I will make you beg. We can save that for next time."

Sereia was confused, but was quick to retort. "What makes you think there is going to be a next time?" She asked through laboured breaths, dazed eyes roving over his dilated pupils and his swollen lips. For the first time ever, he looked like a mess, and Sereia could not get enough of the sight. 

Tom only smirked in response, his fingers going under her cover to pull at the strings of her bikini bottoms. She trembled beneath his touch, her pulse racing with a heady mix of anticipation and desire. 

"Because I am going to make you beg for a next time."

Sereia's jaw dropped when he sunk to his knees, his eyes ablaze with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. 

:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ.

[cardansriddle]

Gilded Serendipity: Masterlist

Story summary: A summer meant to be spent in the tranquil seaside mansion of Rosier's was not supposed to sway hearts like rustling leaves. Sereia Nova was most definitely not supposed to feel drawn to Tom Riddle. Yet August had a way of weaving chaos and desire together, only to dissolve into the shadows, leaving behind a bittersweet aftermath- an ephemeral illusion of love.

TAGLIST: taglist for this series is separate so let me know by comment/message/ask if you wish to be added!

:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ.

PART 1 "The Element of Surprise"

PART 2 "I Can See You"

PART 3 "False God"

PART 4

PART 5

PART 6

PART 7

PART 8

PART 9

PART 10

:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ:☆ﾟ.

[cardansriddle]

💌 MASTERLIST 💌

i mainly write for tom riddle and this master list contains most of my work. beware of content warnings before reading. 

UPDATED FREQUENTLY

fluff- ♡

angst- ✰

smut- **

implied smut- *

TAGLIST  

(interaction with the taglist post will automatically add you to my general taglist.)

Tom Riddle

Series

Gilded Serendipity   ✰♡**

One Shots

Faded ink ♡ part 2 ✰♡ (soulmate au)  

“Would you…” He cut himself off, and you wondered if you were imagining the sea of emotions that were swimming in his eyes. “Would you believe me if I said you are destined for me?” 

Snap out of it ✰♡

You hated how he could always see right through you as if you were an open book for him to devour. You hated that he was right and most of all, you hated how even after all this time you yearned for him.

Tom must have noticed your conflicted expression because he leaned in closer. "Do not marry him." He pleaded, his tone so...so vulnerable and raw that you almost melted right then and there.

Watching you **

"Do not deny it, little witch." He tsked, his hand travelling from your chin to your face in order to push a strand of your hair behind your ear. "After all, I have noticed you watching me." He said before leaning in as if he was indulging you in a secret. "Because I have been watching you too."

Sugar * (muggle!reader)

Perhaps it was an accident. Or perhaps the fates were mocking him. He had not meant to venture into the little coffee shop and he had most definitely not meant to return. But he kept coming back and the waitress kept putting sugar packets near his coffee every damn time. 

“You know how to ball, I know Aristotle”  ♡

Tom finds himself harbouring a small crush on the Slytherin Chaser.

Temptation * (vampire!reader)

He lifted his head and allowed an arrogant smirk to grace his lips. “We both know you want my blood. More than anything. And I want to be immortal. More than anything. It is a win-win situation for both of us.”

Ghost of him (shifter!reader) ♡✰

Looking at him, knowing it would not last, the tears finally flowed. They came without warning, staining my cheeks with their trails and I did not attempt to wipe them away. Tom had to look away from the sight, and I knew—I knew it was killing him inside. Knowing I would leave and never come back. 

"Time for you to wake up."

“A tragic love story”   ♡

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to revel in the feel of him, so close to you yet so out of reach at the same time. You knew what you wished for was a mere fantasy. You have heard tragic stories and tales of two people on the opposite sides of war falling in love. And they were called tragic for a reason.

You knew this would never end well.

Obsession part 1   part 2

His whole mind was plagued by her and he felt stupefied and disoriented. He had found himself silently trailing behind her in the dark corners of the hallways, following her wherever she went. He took note of the people she surrounded herself with, the boys she talked to and every time he would remind himself to stop.

Remind that she was not in his possession for him to act in such a way.

Yet.

Teach me part 1 * part 2 **

After a conversation takes an interesting turn, you feel awfully inexperienced. So you ask Tom to teach you how to kiss. 

The darkness within  ♡✰

It hurt, knowing you were forced to watch as the person you loved the most descended into madness.

But perhaps the love you felt for your Tom was big enough to love the monstrous side of him too.

Discipline ** (Professor!Riddle)

“Who are you to teach me discipline? My father?” You spat, glaring at him heatedly.

“Keep that attitude and I will spank you like I am.”

Destined

Something churned in Tom’s heart, something dangerous as he stared at you. You were...similar to him. He had never been able to say that about someone. There had been no one that could understand his feelings— or well, the lack of— and now there you were, the one person in the universe who happened to have the same unfortunate fate as him.

Your girl part 1   part 2 

Your gaze would always find him no matter where you were. No matter what you were doing. You felt like a magnet being pulled towards a being that would swallow you like a black hole and leave you in a pit of nothingness.

Oh, how you desired him. It was agonising. Loving him from afar and knowing you would never be his girl.

In his clutches  (Yandere!Tom Riddle) 

“Never forget who you belong to, darling, or I would be forced to remind you. And you do not want to face my wrath, you poor little thing.”

Or in other words, once Tom Riddle took notice of you, he had to have you.

Little dress **

After a scorching hot day spent trying to find an artefact in France, frustrated reader wants to head down to the beach to cool off. Tom takes her to the beach, yet instead of cooling off things get even more heated.

Touch pt1 ♡ pt2 ♡ pt3  ♡

A palm-reading task in Divination class reveals a very touch starved Tom Riddle, much to your amusement.

You’re so dark (modern au)

“And that is what you like? Dark and poetic?” The stranger asked again, and you felt his stare burn through your whole being as the implication of his question ran deeper than simple literature. He was watching you, in that intense manner of his, and it was enough to ignite fire in your entire being.

“I think everything dark is naturally poetic.”

Change of heart ✰

"You are committed to me." He whispered while raising the sleeve of your robe and your eyes dropped to the exposed skin of your forearm.

The black ink looked like it didn't belong on your soft, smooth skin. "You were the first person to join me, to receive my mark. You can't just leave." His voice strained and if you didn't know better, you might've thought he was pleading.

Cold heart ** ✰

“Don’t do this.” Your voice came out weakly, shattering the peaceful moment with three words. You watched him inhale deeply, trying to control himself so he would not lash out because it was you and you were the only person in this goddamned world that he gave a fuck about.

“You know I will.” He said after a moment.

.

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MINI SHOTS ( 1K Celebration prompt list )

His Comfort  ♡

When you are overexerting yourself, Tom is there to comfort you— and talk some sense into your overachiever self.

The Dare ♡

When you refuse to back down from a dare, you somehow end up almost drowning in the Black Lake. It is a good thing that Tom is there to save you.

The Encounter ♡

Abraxas is annoyingly persistent at trying to get you but Tom is there to rescue you from an uncomfortable situation. And he is a little jealous.

Old Flame

"You still want me," He said lowly, voice only just above a whisper. There was a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes, one you remembered all too well.

"Do not act as if you do not."

Just Once  part 2** 

You encounter Tom Riddle in the Prefects Bathroom while taking a bath...more than once.

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Tom Riddle Fanfiction (On Wattpad): 

The devil in Disguise 

Other characters: 

(I do not accept requests for these characters anymore!)

Draco Malfoy

Solitude ♡

Forbidden Fruit ✰♡

Monsters in our heads ✰♡

Secret little rendezvous **

Dance with me *

Cedric Diggory

Treasure ♡

Love is in the air ♡

Loki

Emerald green *