GOD, FORGIVE ME

GOD, FORGIVE ME

GOD, FORGIVE ME

in which louis and chicago are both very unstable catholic boarding school students just barely hanging on by a thread of alcohol and drugs... until they meet each other

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prologue || one || two || three ||

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save me, poor boy. jack marrowbone x reader

summary 📣: in which reader is in danger and jack is the only one who thinks he can save her, but she might not be the one who needs to be saved

warnings 🚫: swearing, violence

slater’s note 🗯: i adore jack marrowbone

jack had never seen your cheeks so pale, yet so flush with a rosy redness high in your cheekbones. he pressed the back of his hand against your cheeks, allowing the coldness to seep deep into his own skin.

he looked back up from your frail body, eyes analyzing the atmosphere of green and blue melting together into cold air.

if only you had waited for him, and if only you had never even made a visit to him that day in the first place.

somewhere in the woods, his father was roaming around, waiting for him, waiting to kill him.

“jack, please, let us help you,” jane tried to force her way through the attic door, slamming her fists against the wooden door as did billy and sam.

jack forced their voices from his head as he marched back down the stairs, holding the case of money tightly in his hand.

he was ready, he knew what he had to do. and he wasn’t afraid, he couldn’t be.

stepping outside, he searched for the figure of the man, his father. his eyes rapidly grazed the field that was laid out before, looking, but finding nothing.

it gave him even more anxiety than before, he couldn’t find the man, he couldn’t find the murder and it was then realization struck him.

you.

right before he locked his siblings into the attic he heard your voice, he saw your figure hoping out of your car, a smile on your face as you made your way into the house.

you knew just as well as he did who his father was. you knew what he did, and what he would do if he ever found the marrowbone family, especially jack.

that’s why you took matter into your own hands, staring back at the man in the other side of the field with your own gun in hand.

“go away!”

he didn’t say anything in return, only stared back silently with a sick smile on the center of his face.

“i know who you are! i know what you’ve done!”

your mouth got you in trouble.

and following that man into the woods with out real knowledge of what he could do to you once alone, got you in real trouble, real danger.

“oh y/n, what did you do now,” he whispered lowly, pressing his knuckles against his chapped lips. he could see a bruise forming along your hairline, seeming to be the reason why you were out, hit by the butt of a gun.

“brave, but a fool. just like you.”

jack quickly flipped around, his hands tightly clasping the metal box full of cash, “don’t touch her... don’t hurt her anymore, this is between me and you.”

he stayed silent, sitting down on a low rock, raising his brows as if questioning what jack was saying is true.

“here, take the money,” jack handed the metal box off to his father who took it, still listening and seeming strangely understanding with calming eyes and facial structure.

he didn’t seem disturb at all, and that’s what scared jack.

“it’s yours, it’s what you came for, now go. you have no reason to be near the house, nor them. it was me who ratted you out and took your money. not them,” jack was breathless, on edge as to what the man would do, “take the money and leave us alone.”

the man stood up calmly, edging onto his feet causing the uneasiness in jack’s stomach to plummet in increase. once the man seemed to be content with his stance and thoughts, he rose the metal box, slamming it across jack’s face, sending the poor boy the ground.

your head throbbed with an extraordinary pain you had never felt before. you groaned feeling nothing and yet everything at once.

your fingers felt numb and you forced them up from the ground, mindlessly reaching for the stem of pain where is was all resonating from. you held your eyes tightly shut while rolling on your back. nothing felt good, and you felt like you were going to hurl.

following the marrowbone’s father in the woods wasn’t the greatest idea, and you almost forgot that was the reason you had ended up where you were. you were a fool and blinded by the idea of love, not wanting the man to do any more damage then he had already done.

once you fully came to your senses, eye lids open and body hunched on it’s side as your fingers laced into the grass, ready to push yourself to your feet, your ears filled with groans.

“jack...” your voice was barely above a whispered as your back arch, rolling further onto your side and onto your knees, eyes meeting two figures, one hunched over the other, choking and beating the struggling body beneath them.

your body felt woozy as you tipped back and forth on your feet, trying to catch balance as you stumbled over to the shotgun you had carried out in the full green woods, hoping to kill a monster... but failed.

you still had hope as your fingers tighten around the metal mouth of the gun, bringing it behind your shoulders before swinging it, the whole wooden butt hitting roughly against the soft skull of the father of your lover.

he hit the floor with a thud, his back pressed into the green carpet as he tried to catch his mind, realizing what was happening. and it was then you yourself realized the hole that was damaging the man’s throat. blood oozing from the gaping, rather large whole.

you clenched your jaw as the sounds of his choking from the large amounts of blood that filled his mouth reached your ears.

“do it, y/n, do it.”

you had never killed a person before, but your mind told you it’d be okay, just this once it’d be fine, that you had to do it.

you pulled back the back, placing your finger on the trigger before pushing against it, pushing past the wall in your heart that always compelled you to do the right thing. your mind told you this was an exception.

the bullet put another hole through his head, laying the man to rest, sending him to hell.

your fingers felt cold and the gun dropped from your hands as realization seemed to have hit you through all parts of your body, sending you into a spiral of shock.

your stumbled before landing into his arms, his own cold hands reaching for yours as he turned you to face him. and it was something that you needed as he seemed to have nodded in approval, knowing there was no other way, that he deserved it.

jack held you closely, his arms wrapping around you tightly, hands no longer with yours but gripping around your shoulders, tightly, as if making sure you were right there, right in his arms, safe.

and he closed his eyes tightly, listening to the quickness of both your heartbeats, wishing to god that you’d always be there, always.

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hi again! sorry - i didn't see that you answered my ask but it won't let me reply and i don't want to just ignore you haha. my favourite ck characters are miguel and johnny and i've only just started ahs so i don't have any favourites yet but so far i like tate! (and violet but mainly because taissa's pretty 🤷‍♀️)

i love taissa 😭 but yeah you’re in for a whirlwind and i hope you’re liking ahs :) also i love johnny and miguel sm and their relationship, i adore them.

home. thomas x reader

summary 📣: in which reader and thomas share a close moment wondering if they’re finally home

warning/s 🚫: naked fluff, swearing 

slater’s note 🗯: thomas has blue eyes in this okay? 

it was peaceful. 

the high pressured water knocked down all the pain away, all the soreness from running and rushing away from all the past problems that happened in the last few day. it all went down the drain. 

the heat made your skin go numb in the most sensational way, the best feeling that had ever touched your skin in the longest time. you wanted to stay in there forever, but something was drawing you away into your new profound home. 

you turned off the faucet, running your hands through your wet hair before stepping out of the shower, the cold air immediately nipped all over at your skin, surrounding you in coldness. it made you shiver while wrapping the white towel hung next to your stall around your body.

the room seemed to be completely empty, taking you by surprise since just like you, no one had had a proper shower in years. you shifted back and forth on your feet, the cold, wet tiles pressing hard against the bareness while you thought, soon noticing you weren’t the only one that still occupied the the shower room. 

the water echoed loudly throughout the hollow, tiled filled room. it sounded lightly of a rainstorm, reminding you of afternoons in the glade when heavy water droplets fell from the previously clear blue sky, roughly crashing into the ground and tearing up the grass. 

it didn’t feel real. none of it. hours ago you could've sworn there no other world out there than besides the glade, and no other people than besides the hundreds of boys that came in and out of the glade, death stealing them from their feet. 

until thomas. with his crazy ambition and pretty blue eyes that drove you wild and out of your mind. the things he did within a couple of days you couldn’t ever do in a couple of years. he saved you, every one of you. 

“hey, pretty boy,” you peaked your head through the thin manila material that shaded everyones eyes away from the person in the shower stall, that being pretty crystal blue eyed thomas. 

how'd you guess?

he turned around, slightly shocked before realizing it was you, his facial features softening but yet slightly surprised still. 

“nice ass.”

“shut up.” 

you smiled up at him, admiring the way his eyes were shining back at yours, full of feverishness, high of energy. the rest of him looked worn out, your eyes dragging away his own, studying his low held shoulders, bruised, but clean. 

“you gonna join me or not?” 

you dropped your towel, your smile expanding at his words. you had never been with him personally, not this personally anyways. he was always a rock for you the moment he came from the box, finding a strange sense of comfort in him, as did he with you. 

the moment you met thomas, you immediately saw something you never saw in other boys that came to the maze.

he had a court of hope that filled his eyes. it looked like he never slept, and for that, it also looked like his mind never stopped racing, never stopped thinking. he was special, he didn’t give up, he wasn’t okay with the fact that he was trapped unlike the other half of the boys who were rather comfortable with it. 

he was a prodigy of hope. 

“you talk to all girls that way, thomas?” “never met one until now.”

he held you close, his fingers pressing deeply into your hipbones as his eyes filled your own, full of admiration, consuming every feature of yours. he had an amused look on his face as he begun to pull you closer and closer, soon pulling you beneath the hot water.

his amused smiled expanded into a playful one as the two of your were now completely emerged in the warmth of thick droplets of steaming hot water.

your chest was soon pressed against his before the eagerness got the better of the both of you. his head dipped down close to you until the both of your mouths were pressed against one another’s.

a tension of pleasure begun to build up in your stomach as he worked his lips against yours, sucking before your head dropped backwards letting a low exhale of pleasure escape past your lips.

the slightest opening of your mouth made him take his chances, slipping his tongue against yours.

“you sure kiss like you have,” you pulled away, a smiled swarming your face as you watch him roll his eyes before cupping your cheek, kissing you one last time on your lips before pulling you into an embrace.

you had never felt that way before. a strange sense of comfort filled your stomach like a glass of juice. it added onto the warm ness of the shower as your cheek was pressed against thomas’ bare chest while his chin was pressed in the crook of your neck.

he pressed soft, wet kisses against your shoulder making your stomach go warm in happiness, a different happiness you had never felt before. you had never felt such a fast yet long euphoria made from such a closeness you had with nobody before.

you pressed a soft kiss against his chest before pulling away slightly, looking up to the boy with full admiration, “you think we’ll stay like this forever?”

“what, in the shower..?”

“no,” you lightly laughed breathily, “happy, safe... home.”

he pressed his lips together in a thin line, his eyes reaching the far top of the ceiling, thinking and thinking before looking down again, meeting your eager and rare innocent looking eyes.

“we’re close, baby, real close.”

you melt. your hand reaches up to touch his face lightly, thumb caressing the light cut along his cheekbone. he closes his eyes lightly underneath your soft touch, soaking up how gentle you were.

“you’re home to me, thomas,” you whispered, continuing to stroke his cheek before you paused, rubbing your lips together before jumping up on your tippy toes, kissing his pretty lips.

maybe it was too fast, too random, too out of pocket... but you felt as if you needed to say it. you wanted him to hear it no matter how short of a time you knew him.

“i’ve never felt this way about anyone, no one has ever made me feel this safe,” your hand tracked to the back of his neck, running your fingers through the back of hair, “you feel like home.”

oh dear peter. louis partridge x reader

summary 📣: in which reader is a mermaid and louis is a foolish boy called “peter pan”

warning/s 🚫: swearing, my lack of mermaid knowledge, a short-short little story with no romance

slater’s note 🗯: i’ve been listening to pirate/mermaid inspired playlists on youtube and i wanted to make a peter pan story so here you go

“you never visit me anymore, peter.”

you gazed up at the young boy who was laid down against the tall rocks from above, his bare back pressed against burning stones while his arms were shoved behind his head.

“a boy has so much to do on this island, y/n,” he didn’t look down to you, “i got things to do and only have so much time for play.”

you rolled your eyes, dramatically flopping down against the rock you were propped up on.

all he did was play and tease the foolish pirate that was floated out all the way on the other side of the island. never work, and even if there was any, he would make his little lost boys do it for him.

“peter,” you whined, rolling onto your side, “you used to have all the time in the world for me... now all you do is fool with that silly pirate with a hook for hand.”

he stayed silent and you almost wondered if he heard you. you assumed he was only ignoring you. peter could never really ever deal with confrontation and either decided to ignore it or tell a silly story.

“i went to neverpeak mountain with a quart of pixie dust the other day and you’ll never guess what i saw here near the lagoon,” he was going with the silly story, a smile running up on his face as his back arched a little, “millions of neverbirds swooping around and picking down on something and you’ll never guess what it was.”

“what, peter pan?” you hummed, your lips pressed into a thin line as you begun to slowly play into his amusement.

“it was a pirate!” he called in a loudness as if rejoicing, his arms swooping up in the air, “they were eating him away, can you believe it, y/n? i wonder how he got all the way out here...”

he voice drew out slowly and lowly as he begun to wonder again like the first time he spotted the bloody and highly unusual boned man that was flat against a rock.

peter could still remember the loud but light and distant screams the resonated throughout the cove. it made him curious as he squinted before flying towards the messy scene.

“i remember that,” you mumbled, “nixie was the one who lured the man out.”

“she’s crazy for it,” he shook his head, tsking before he sat up properly, “but all you fish do silly things when you get lonely.”

you swung yourself up quickly, scowling up at him but he paid no attention to you, a plain smile on his face as he watched the sun begin to set.

“i’ve got to go little fin,” he stood crossing his arms before looking down to you, “i’ll see you when the sun reaches east and the cove begins to sink... maybe i’ll bring a lost boy or two.”

he nodded in fulfillment before flying off into the purple sky. you watched before shaking your head, you knew he was lying, you knew it, he knew it. he wouldn’t be back for at least a couple of months, or however long that was in neverland time, but he wouldn’t be back for awhile.

and when he did, it wouldn’t be for long, but he’d be there and maybe that time he’d kiss you like the first time you met his pretty boyish face.

“goddamn fairy boy.”

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the kiss of death. george mackay x reader

summary 📣: in which reader falls in love with the angel of death

warning/s 🚫: swearing, the grim reaper 💀, angst, death, incorrect facts about the angel of death

slater’s note 🗯: this idea came to me at random and i absolutely adore it for some reason even though... i don’t

the angel of death was a beautiful creature that always held fate in hand, a man dressed in black with golden rings that carried the souls of the forbidden.

always roaming around for the next, tailing the soon to be dead. a man who holds fate, who brings peace, but never looked to as an angel.

he had been following you around the past couple of days causing you to get weary. at first you hadn’t notice, passing him on opposite lanes of the sidewalk just as if he was normal stranger, someone you’d never see again, and someone you barely took notice to.

you wouldn’t be able to tell his face from another if you were ever asked... not until the third day.

your eyes settled on him from across the street, first they were only wandering before your eyes matched onto his.

icy, cold, and blue. it linked you into place as fear seemed to fill your soul like a cup of juice, your recognition system kicking in as his familiar face filtered through brain, eyes flicking back and forth before... ding.

you were afraid something would happen once you passed him, but nothing did, and why would it?

he could have just been a normal civilian, just like you. who went the same way to work like you did. you were sure there were hundreds of people like that, people you’ve seen before, more than once but hadn’t actually met.

but you knew there had to be something more to this man because never before had you ever recognized a person you hadn’t ever met before.

it was the sixth day that you confronted him.

and maybe it was stupid but nothing could have brought anything to enter your mind for the man dressed in black who sat a table away from you took up all its time.

“do you always wear the same outfit everyday?” you leaned over the small coffee table that you sat at, leaning toward the man in black who’s newspaper was covering the whole front of his body.

he didn’t respond, keeping the newspaper up tightly like a wall, still covering his pale features. you almost wondered if you were talking to the right man... or whether or not he could hear you.

“i mean it sure is one nice suit... but to wear it everyday?” you quirked a brow, amusement filling your tone as if you were making fun of him now.

and yet he made no movement.

“can i at least look at your pretty face while we’re talking?” your bottom lip peeled out from your top one, pouting, and batting your eyelashes dramatically as you slightly curved your head to the right, analyzing his fingers that clutched the newspaper.

he moved, folding the newspaper neatly and placing it down on his own round table. he folded his arms against his chest, his biceps bulge against his nice black coat jacket.

you straighten your back out of reflex in intimidation. you forgot what he look like, but at least to say you had never seen his face so up close.

beautiful, pale, and full of no amusement. dead of facial expression. and yet yours filled of regret for being so teasing.

“who are you?” you say nervously, gripping the sides of your chair, not daring to break eye contact no matter how hard you wanted to.

he stayed silent before straightening out his own back, grabbing onto the glass case of sugar, dumping it into his coffee, before stirring it with a small silver spoon, “the grim reaper.”

his voice was deep yet light as he continued to stir his cup of coffee, memorized by the liquid spinning round and round while brushing you off.

oh? that’s all you could think.

“so you’re here to kill me?” it wasn’t something you were exactly so willingly to believe, your eyes narrowing up together as you were completely dumbfounded to his answer. your hands loosened from their grips to the chair you sat at, laying them on the table.

who says that?

“i’m actually not here to kill you but rather... collect your soul,” he seems hesitant by the way he worded it- you could tell he had been in this situation before, and he had to be careful with wording it this time.

“collect my soul?” you couldn’t seem to understand it no matter how clear it was, and it was really clear, but you weren’t processing it right.

“after you die, someone has to collect your body, and someone also has to collect your soul, that someone being me,” he takes a sip of his coffee while carefully analyzing your movements.

“fuck,” you dipped your head into your palms, your mind hitting the pavement fast to realization that you were dying- or going to die and you could only imagine it was sooner rather than later. “you’ve go to be joking.”

“afraid not, dear.”

“you’re just a man,” you mumble, motioning your hand to the tall man, “and this is a funny joke.”

“and why would this be a joke?”

you moved to the chair across from the man, ready to bring down his whole claim, “because the last time i checked, the angel of death was only a myth.”

maybe you were just speaking out of your ass, maybe you were actually dying and it wasn’t some joke, or maybe you were on an acid trip while having a manic episode at the same time.

“of course you think that, you’re a college student,” he gave you a look that seemed reassuring, that it was completely fine that you didn’t believe him, “you’re smart, you’re critical, i wouldn’t expect anything less from you, y/n.”

you felt like you were talking to a more forgiving version of your father. late nights when you would come home for no reason your freshman year in college, you’d hear the exact same words that came from the man in black’s mouth in your own fathers voice when he caught you sneaking into your own childhood home.

“i wouldn’t except anything less from you, y/n.”

it was always taunting when it came from him, like you were weak and needed him to hold your hand. it’s what drove you away and caused you to lessen your visits to only christmas and thanksgiving.

“i’ll see you tomorrow,” he stood up from the small table, grabbing onto his newspaper before laying a strong hand on the top of your head, giving it a firm squeeze as if in reassurance.

and you sat there... left in the basic of silence with nothing but the sounds of busy cars to fill your ears and the pondering thoughts of wondering how he knew your name.

°•

you found him on a wooden park bench the next day, his back heavily leaned against it with a newspaper in both his hands, once again covering his face.

you say carefully next to him, not looking to him but rather staring out to the park where families walked along the sidewalk while others biked and walked their dogs alone or in groups.

you sucked in a deeper breath of air. ever since the man you sat next to told you he was the grim reaper, you became more cautious, despite your whole thoughts on him lying, you couldn’t prevent his words from getting to your head.

everything could kill you, yet nothing had done so yet.

“what’s your name?” you mumbled, dipping your head closer to his as he continued to read, your nose getting a good whiff of him and even for being a supposed angel of death, he smelled good.

“i don’t have one.”

“what do you mean you don’t have one?”

“i’m an angel, well rather the angel of death, i go by many names but was never given a permanent one, besides ‘the grim reaper’ i suppose,” he had set down his newspaper to the right of him, slightly rolling his eyes at the name grim reaper.

it made you smile as you looked down to the ground, listening to his voice as you dug your shoes into the dirt peaking out from the grass. his voice was smooth and there were no stutters or tripping. it made you want to fall into his throat, listening to him talk for hours because he seemed to be just so... good at it.

“well i have to call you something,” you glanced up to him where his eyes already were, looking down at you, “especially if you’re going to be following me around till the day of my death.”

he seemed hesitant, choking on what he would say next. almost as if he were uncomfortable to the fact that you took the idea of your death lightly, like you still thought it was a joke.

and you did.

“i don’t want you to call me anything.”

“but i want to,” you rose your eyebrows as if you were telling him off, as if this meant a lot to you, “last dying wish?”

“you joke a lot for someone who’s going to die in a couple of days.”

“harrison?”

“what?”

“harrison, can i call you that?”

“no.”

“tom?”

“no.”

“nicholas? timothy? carl? louis? george?”

“no...george is fine,” he rose his hands, as if steadying you from continuing you on, “that’s fine.”

“really?”

“yes,” and he stood, grabbing his newspaper before hitting your head with it lightly, “i’ll find you tomorrow.”

°•

he found you on campus, sitting on one of the many benches that were littered throughout the property, newspaper in hand, only this time he had it rolled in his hand, waiting for you.

“do you think you can kill me before my exam on friday, i don’t feel like i have enough willpower to pass it,” once you had passed him on the blue plastic bench, he stood, following you as you exited off the property and to the direction of your apartment.

“funny,” he mumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

the day was fuming of sunshine. the only relief you found from the heat were from the trees the two of you passed every once and awhile, the thick roots being planted along the sidewalk.

you begun to sweat, the sundress you wore provided you no relief causing you to wonder as to how george seemed completely fine, calm and cool actually, like the heat was arctic weather.

“i don’t understand how you wear that thing everyday,” you stressed, glancing to the black suit that fitted his body quiet well.

he chuckled in return, glancing in return, “i don’t feel what you feel, darling.”

“obviously not.”

°•

the taste of lemonade was so very sweet and cool as it flattened and sank into your taste buds. it created a feeling of relief to surface all over your skin, the sweat no longer feeling hot but cool as it dipped down your shoulders and back.

you leaned back into the patio chair, the plastic pressing up into your skin. a feeling of relaxation begun to take over your mind and body as you closed your eyes in delight from the shade that now covered you and the iced lemonade that settled in your stomach.

“how do i die, george?” you hummed, your head still dipped back, eyes closed, not bothered by anything.

“i cant tell you that, darling.”

“why? does it upset you too much to talk about my very untimely death?”

“i don’t get upset, nor sad.”

you sat up quickly, your back pressing against the back of the plastic chair fast as you looked to him slightly disappointed as well as shocked.

“i don’t believe that.”

“that probably has something to do with the fact that your a very empathetic person.”

“and you’re not?”

“no.”

“george, you kill people everyday, how don’t you? don’t you feel any remorse for being so cruel?”

“it’s not cruel, it’s a job,” he sipped his tea, “i’m not killing anyone, y/n, people kill themselves simply by being fools or rather not being healthy. i simply just make sure they make it beyond their body and into the afterlife.”

“never killed anyone huh?” you quirked a brow, golding your arms, “i mean don’t you ever follow someone who’s supposed to die.. but just doesn’t? and they’re just taking too long and you want to speed up the process...”

“no, but you’re about to be the first one.”

°•

“but have you ever fallen in love?” you stared up at your ceiling, the fabric of your lavender blanket laid over you, ready to set you off to deep sleep and dreams.

“no.”

you hated to hear that answer. and despite after learning all you did about the man who laid next to you and how he basically felt nothing and did nothing but his job. you should’ve known. but you only hoped that he would’ve said ‘yes’ and a bit of mortality would’ve shown of him.

the two of you had been in your bed for along two hours, nothing but pointless questions and laughs filled your small room. but even if the whole conversation that took place was pointless, you just had to know. know everything about him, how he lived, who he had met, who he was going to meet, and who he’d kill after you. well, not necessarily kill, but rather pull away from death and into... the afterlife.

he was interesting and he was beautiful and you loved every word that came from his mouth, except for the ‘no’s. but even then he said it so perfectly and everything he had an answer for, he knew everything.

he could have anything and everything with the knowledge he had, with the answers he could give, he could have everything but yet, he wanted nothing.

he only wanted to do his job and the souls he took.

“you’ve never fallen in love?” you rolled over onto your side, facing him where he still laid on his back above the covers and analyzing the ceiling like it had a story to tell, “you never felt a boyish feeling of seeing a pretty girls face and simply just... melting?”

you sounded like a little girl, you knew, he knew it. and even though you knew the answer to your own question, you still wanted to hear it from his voice.

“i’ve never been a boy, nor a man, i only just existed since the beginning of time, i could never feel what you feel nor could i melt by the simple sight of something.”

ouch.

“you’re no fun.”

“would you like me to lie?” he turned on his side, facing you.

“no,” you pressed your lips into a thin line, leaning up on your elbows so you were leveled higher than him, “but you could humor me.”

“life isn’t fun, y/n,” he rubbed his lips together, looking up to you with his pretty blue eyes, something you found so strange about him. what a dark soul but such light, pretty eyes.

“it just sucks you’ll never be able to experience a first kiss or...”

he reached up, placing his palm against your cheek, “darling, a first kiss would kill.”

“what do you mean,” you pout, playing into his gesture of being sweet to you, his hand on your cheek, his cold hand and fingers warming against the redness of your cheeks. you leaned into his touch, wanting more.

“an immortal soul can’t mix with a mortal one, it doesn’t work like that,” he continued to rub his thumb against your cheek as if teasing you for something you can’t have, that being him, “i’d kill a soul i’m not meant to mix with.”

“so you’re saying...” you played on, pausing while laying a hand in the nape of his neck, “it’d kill me or any other girl for that matter... if we shared a kiss?”

teasing, it was like teasing and you were being a fool for playing into it when you should’ve been tucked back into your covers with him away and out the door, waiting for you to perish.

waiting for you.

°•

it was raining and george knew this day would come. the sky cloudy and filled with little rain drops that poured down roughly, one after another with no signs of stopping.

no one dared to go any further past their balcony to scope out the pretty but harsh water droplet that felt of pins and needles.

george held an umbrella or rather the angel of death held an umbrella. he should’ve never let you call him that, for now all it’d be is a name in the past, something he had to forget or carry along on his shoulders with other souls he could tell, just as he had told you of other past souls who had called him many things, but never a specific name, and never george.

the angel of death’s eyes layered out to the dark street that flooded with rain water, toppling onto of the rare sighting of cars in hurry to get home.

he looked down to his watch, 4:30, just about on time, just...

1...2...3...

and there you were, skipping down the street with an umbrella in hand, your head held low as you tried to keep the water out of your eyes that splashed up from the streets.

you weren’t paying attention, and that’s how it went. you were practically skipping, trying to get as much as water possible out of your shoes until you were hit by a car sending you right for the hard concrete, your head splitting open.

and the angel of death crossed the street like an angel in the clouds, practically gliding across the rain filled streets in his nice black leather shoes, making his way over to your frail, dead body.

and the boy you called george placed a small kiss upon your lips, capturing your soul within his black rings with all the other special encounters he had wished to keep forever.

and forever, he would keep you, trapped with a kiss you’d cherish forever.

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