Pretty Boy. Louis Partridge X Reader

pretty boy. louis partridge x reader

summary 📣: in which reader and louis share their first kiss

warning/s 🚫: swearing

slater’s note 🗯: i never really wrote a fic in relation to “romance” (or whatever) for louis so here you are

louis was so pretty, you could hardly believe he was standing right before you with his stupid brown beautiful eyes that slowly grazed across yours every once and awhile as he spoke and laughed.

you hadn’t seen him in a long time with the killing schedule of boarding school weighing on your back while his growing career made it impossible for you to ever see his pretty face.

his hair was longer and curling at the nape of his neck, eyes underlining with a dark shade of red filled with lack of sleep.

and he was taller, his shoulders slouched with the heavy pressures of the things that filled his soul these days, work, acting, friends, skating, playing the piano. his white tee shirt held up onto his shoulders, covering the chain wrapped around his neck.

you could see it dangle, waving back and forth as he leaned over, hitting against his tanning chest and the fabric of his tee, the shirt cutting it off from dipping any further into the air as he would lean.

he had such a pretty face with his dimples that poked into his cheeks, pinning them up high as he smiled, a laugh usually following the opened mouth smile, his teeth white and tongue poking out in amusement.

it reminded you of when you were a child, when you’d dip your toes into the cold water creek close to your house next to the boy you watched now, only younger but just as careless and silly.

he’d stick his tongue out mindlessly while in full concentration, whether that being trying to cross to the other side of the cold water creek close to your house, the current splashing strongly against his ankles or the simple task of coloring a picture.

you had adored the boy then and even more did so now.

you learned to fall in love with him even more in the past week of your break from boarding school, learning and picking up on more and more of his little things.

such as the way his eyes just barely peaked out from his brow hair when it got messy and fell from being pushed back with gel. his eyes usually seeking out for yours, a soft smile following.

and the way he seemed so much more intense, impulsive, really. having to do everything right in that moment, his movements always quick and meaningful, usually pulling you along up the mountain of activities by the thread of your fingers.

but when he settled down, he really did so. taking deep enjoyment in the calmness of the cool london air from underneath a cafe umbrella, with you usually across from him, ready to poke and tease him for the black shades he wore, even as it wasn’t so bright and harsh of sunlight.

he found just as much pleasure in the quiet and blissful winds just as the chaos and quick moving moments. he learned so much from when he was just fifteen, and even though he was much older, he had grown with events and lessons that took place in his life ever since you had left.

he wanted to tell you so much, to tell you of all the people he had met, to tell you of his old friends that continued to stay in that same position, to tell you of travels, and books, and his family, and how he so so missed you.

you’d watch with complete and utter focus of content, feeling a sweet sensation of being finally home, being home with him.

“i always thought you were the prettiest boy i’ve ever seen,” you whispered up to him once you were close, his head dipped down close to yours as you laid your hand against his warm cheek.

you felt silly for saying it but you had thought you’d never see him again and while being on the last day of your visit from boarding school, you saw your chance.

he took a step closer to you, laying a hand on your own cheek, stroking his thumb against your cheekbones, reaching all the way down to your jaw.

he could fall in love with you just as you did with him and all simply because of your bright eyes that made him melt. your whole entire soul and heart poured out from your irises, eating him away as all he wanted to do was be with you fully and forever.

he wanted to hold you, hug you, kiss you, do anything and everything to make you aware of all the heavy affection he had for you that burdened his mind.

“i adore you, pretty,” he thumbed your cheek before leaning his head close to yours, turning it up to the sky at the slightest to meet your lips better.

his lips were soft and he was gentle, his other hand now meeting the other side of your cheek, making sure your close, making sure he can feel you and every bit of you. and you melt to his touch, your back laying lowly as you begun to feel more calm, leaning into his slim, warm body.

you exhale into the kiss, a feeling of relief overcoming you as if every one of your problems was lifted from your shoulders and away into the foggy london train station air.

“don’t go,” he whines, his lips still just barely connected to yours, a pout beginning to fill his lips, “i only want you to stay, nothing else.”

you have been waiting for those words since you were thirteen. well not exactly those words but something along those lines, something that linked him to wanting you.

you loved him since you were ten, longed for his attention since your teens, even more then he had already given you, and now, at seventeen he held you in his arms, now he loved you just the same as your heart did of him.

“just stay, and i’ll be yours.”

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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.

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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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.”

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

MASTERLIST

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

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i'm surprisingly doing well. only thing is i'm dreading dance today because i have like no energy lmao. how're you?? (-libra anon)

i’m glad you’re doing well! i myself am doing pretty alright and just got done with all my homework (that’s a lie) and i get to go swimming today because it’s finally above 40 degrees over here in the midwest (??). anyways i hope dance goes well even if you don’t have much energy (drink yo water and have a granola bar)