Interview Of The Month. Louis Partridge X Reader

interview of the month. louis partridge x reader

summary 📣: in which reader and louis have a strong passion of hatred for each other- despite the two of them being bestfriends

warning/s 🚫: swearing, starts out strong but dies half assed

slater’s note 🗯: i’m obsessed with making interview type imagines 😭 also this is TRASH because i gave up halfway in the end

how’d the two of you meet?

you glanced to louis as he continued to read the question. you pressed your lips into a thin line, thinking of the first time you had ever encountered the boy right next to you.

“uhm, this dumbass crashed into me at the skate park,” you jerked your thumb to louis who begun to shake his head, “he’s trash at it.”

“you always tell this story wrong,” his head still shook while he tugged at his bottom lip, “see because we met in brooklyn and you spilled your coffee all over me.”

“no because we met in london,” you begun to think it through, wondering whether if either of you actually remembered when you both truly met. “that skate park was in london and i spilt coffee on you a whole entirely different time.”

“we never met in a skate park.”

“yes, we did,” you argued, giving him a pointed look, “i know we did because i still have a scar from your board.”

“no, no, no, you got that scar from a different time, when we were with my sister,” he pushed back against your statement, his head shaking again.

“well that’s a different scar.”

“what are these scars? pull them out then.”

your face twisted up, leaning forward in slight confusion as louis had his hand pointing toward your leg, where he very much knew where there were scars from your true first meeting.

it was then did his face tell you that you were right all along, the two of you did meet at a skate park, he just didn’t like being wrong.

and when he was wrong, he hated admitting so.

your face expanded at the cheeks into a smile that came with an accusing pointer finger, directed towards the boy, “i’m right.”

“what?” he scoffed, a guilty opened mouth smile spreading across his face, “no, you’re not.”

“please, you’re a horrible liar, louis.”

“shut it.”

what’s your favorite activity to do when together?

you rolled your eyes, recovering from the last question before squinting them, trying to get a better look at the screen before the two of you.

“she needs glasses,” louis says suddenly, his eyes crinkling together as he looked to the crew behind the camera, “that’s why i’m a faster reader.”

you rolled your eyes again, shooing his comment off, “i’d say hanging with his sister because i don’t actually like hanging out with louis.”

“no, she actually loves hanging out with me because i can drive her around and she can’t,” he looked over to you, your eyes immediately meeting his as you watched his plan unfold in his pupils just as it came out of his mouth, “she’s failed her last two drivers test.”

he held up his fingers making a two in the air causing you to grab onto his wrist, forcing his hand back down to stop embarrassing you, your cheeks starting to burn. that only made his smile increase, as he looked to you.

he looped his pinky finger with yours just as you were letting go of his hand, now settled out of the camera visual. you looked up at him as he still stared at you with the cockiest smile.

you shook your head, “i only fail because this dipshit thinks it’s funny to call only to patronize and terrorize me each time before i take the test.”

he shakes his head in return, as if he had no idea what you were talking about, like you were lying. it made you want to strangle him as he stared back at you with his taunting stare, a smirk sewn in his features as he knew you wouldn’t say anything else- even as he himself hadn’t said anything. 

sometimes you think louis did it on purpose because he liked driving you around.

“i swear to god, i’ll punch you in the jaw.”

what is your favorite quality of one another?

“y/n’s actually really funny and i enjoy being around her,” it flowed out of his mouth so effortlessly like a perfect lie. that’s what it seemed like, a lie.

there was no way louis was going to compliment you without a struggle. he would usually pop out a few jokes before getting down to the basis of an actual answer. 

that’s why you stared up at him, completely dumbfounded with a mix of disgust, “shut your trap louis partridge.” 

“woah,” he laughed before looking into the camera, “she’s never been good at accepting compliments though.” “louis, shut your mouth, when have you ever complimented me?” “all the time!” “you're a horrible liar!” you scoffed, hitting his arm lightly, “i can see it in your eyes that you know what i know and that’s that you don’t ever compliment people and you absolutely suck at it when you do so.” 

“i don't know what you mean,” his voice came out strangled from the laugh that he forced out with it. he knew you were being truthful and it made him awkward, due to not wanting to admit that he sucked with being empathetic. 

“whatever, compliment me now,” he shook his head after awhile, “what’s your favorite quality about me, dear?” you bit your lip, turning your head from his as you thought of something nice to say about him, something you liked about him, “hold on let me think.”

“you got no time, miss, hurry this up.” “jesus, give me a moment, lou.”

you tapped your finger against your lip frantically before spitting out the first thing that came to mind, “you have nice... hair?”

“i’ll take that. although i’m quite offended that’s all you could think of.”

“what do you mean, your answer wasn’t even genuine.”

he rolled his eyes, “just accept the compliment and tell me i’m a good boyfriend.”

“a good boyfriend?” you almost gasped as if struck stupid by that word.

“darling, you know i’m a good boyfriend, you just don’t want the world to know it because they’ll be all over me even more than ever.”

what’s your favorite activity to do when together?

“this question again?” louis groaned, tilting his head to the side making you lowly laugh. 

“well we never really answered it.” 

“that is not my fault.” 

“it’s not mine.” “shut it, we like to watch movies together i suppose.” 

you narrowed your brows at his answer, crooking your head towards his direction, “louis, we’ve watched a movie once together and it ended with you whining because you were bored.”

“well, they didn’t say anything about lying,” he shrugged, “and i did quite enjoy my time with you then.” 

could you see each other living together in near future? 

“no, i’d cut his head off within the first hour.”

“surprised i’d even last that long.”

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@w0nderr @deadbeatbarb @phantompogues @alexmercer-reginaldpeters

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.

my boy. adam banks x reader

summary 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨: in which adam is neglected and doesn’t know how to act when he meets reader, a very sentimental and touchy person.

warning/s 🪓: swearing, rushed and trashed

slater’s note ☎️: adam is bae and i want to marry him :)

all adam banks wanted was to be wanted himself. growing up with parents that resisted the urge to provide any physical touch and were emotionally unavailable reverberated off a son with the same exact emotional unavailability.

all his past girlfriends gave up on him too quick to realize so. it always ended rarely without any goodbyes and a big ‘fuck you’ along with a considerable unkind amount of words that always meant and said the exact same thing.

you don’t care.

he always felt bad, no matter how hard it was for him to feel sympathy at times, his heart always dropped to his stomach when he heard harsh words like those, but he could never say sorry.

that was until he met you. the first thing he noticed about you were your eyes and how bright they were. full of life, excitement, and so much general emotion that swallowed him up whole simply just by glancing at you.

eden hall academy had done many good things for him, as well as introducing him to you through your biology class. he had noticed you weeks before you transferred to his terribly boring science class taught by a ninety year old man on the verge of a heart attack from how much yelling he did.

you had practically fainted the day you were all set to dissect frogs, it was hard enough for you to keep your breakfast down let alone keep conscious.

he sat across from you and your partner, closely watching all the differential emotions that crossed your face as you watched your rather overly curious lab partner stab away at the dead slimy green corpse. you looked like you were about to hurl once she had sliced open the creature

“i think i’m gonna be sick,” you got up quickly and he could see it a lot quicker before you yourself even realized what was going on. your face turned pale as a ghost and your eyes turned a lighter shade than they usually were.

“whoa there, girl,” he caught you before you could even bend your knees and hit your pretty head against the cold blue tiles of the old biology room.

from then on you found it hard leave his side. not a lot of boys at eden hall were very nice nor went all the way to catching you before practically cracking your skull open. a boy you barely knew had somehow reached his way to your heart faster than any boyfriend you had ever had. just by the things he did simply made you smile.

and he was easy. easy going eyes, surprisingly easy to talk to but yet there was something about him that sent you off in a spiral of thought every time you looked at him, wondering what layers filled his mind and soul

the ducks were shocked to say the least.

“since when do you give a shit about the female population?” fulton would poke fun at adam as they’d sit at lunch, watching you carefully while you made through the lunch line with the rest of your preppy cheerleading friends.

“when a female looks like that, yeah,” luis scoffed, also checking out while nodding his head in a satisfied manner, “nothing bad to look at there.”

“hey,” adam lightly slapped him, “don’t be looking at her like that, mendoza. she’s got enough shit going on she doesn’t need to be dealing with some perv starin’ at her ass.”

“you calling me a perv?”

“yeah, i’m calling you a perv.”

many sounds of amusement echoed throughout the group as they got a look of luis’ face that dropped from amusement but now of slight embarrassment.

“fuck you, banksy.”

the first time you shared a kiss with him was also the first time you had actually took a step on the ice.

he had held your hand to keep you from falling, something he never did with anyone, while the other would shift from your hand to your lower back, guiding you into the smooth circles and tricks, drawing into the ice like it was a coloring sheet.

his lips were chapped but gentle with the way he slowly pressed his red lips against your own. he seemed hesitant at first, wondering whether if it was right or okay.

“just kiss me, banksy,” you mumbled, your head slightly tilted so you could see his dark blue eyes better. he smiled lightly but out of nervousness before lightly scraping his lips against yours.

you had to fully initiate the kiss, pressing lip against lip roughly and fully, full of emotion and passion for him to be finally comfortable.

he was surprised, he was never used to not having to initiate the first kiss. he smiled lightly against your pretty lips, moving his hands around your waist tightly to steady you against the slick ice.

“you falling in love with this chick, cake eater?” julie walked by the boys side two days after the shared kissed, her eyebrow quirked and filled with genuine curiosity as they made their way to their usual lunch table.

charlie shook his head once they sat down across from him, “if he is, he sure has a funny way of showing it.”

“what do you mean?”

“adam here hasn’t called her back. apparently he’s been ignoring her.”

adam’s cheeks slowly grew red as he shook his head beginning to open his milk carton. it was always a faze he went through every time he shared a personal and close moment with a female. he had to check himself, make himself wonder if he was willing to carry out with everything that entitled to a kiss, a kiss that meant a lot to the both of you.

“i’m not ignoring her, man.”

“really, tell that to her then.”

“no.”

“why not, pussy?”

“i’m not about to fall to some peer pressure from some junior varsity hockey player.”

“shut up,” charlie rolled his eyes, knowing adam’s words were only a joke, “just call her before some other varsity hockey player does.”

adam was wrong. he did fall to charlie’s peer pressure, hesitantly calling you with his head practically falling off his shoulders due to never having done this before... calling girls first.

“hello?” your voice sounded sweet but had a lowness to it, something that made him think you were sad or tired with hurt and loneliness.

it made him feel guilty that he almost didn’t say anything but his mouth still slightly hung open with his jaw clenched, “hi..”

“adam?”

“hey, y/n..”

you fell for the softness of his voice, rubbing your eyes for a moment before exhaling, “you finally decide to call me, pretty boy?”

“thought it was about time,” he hummed, scratching the back of his neck in a nervous manner, his mind beginning to sink in on him as patronizing and contradicting thoughts attacked his brain, “you busy tonight?”

it doesn’t take long for you to overcome your upset terms, quickly attaching to adam just as much as you had the first time you had the two of you had hung out. it only seemed that this time you felt closer and more attached to him than before.

it took awhile for him to ease into it, get used to the fact that someone was there for him, someone who cared and seemed to be there more permanently rather than temporary.

you held his hand, kissed his cheek, always had some kind of hold on him to keep him in the mindset that you cared. in return and over a large amount of time he held you close, taught you how to skate and stay on your feet.

you made him feel finally cared for, eliminating all the shitty girlfriends that gave up on him before he could even make a move of appreciation and get used to all the tension of being cared for.

he’d run his fingers through your hair, twirling strands around his fingers as he looked at you quietly, admiring your calm face full of happiness and love for him.

“you’re my girl,” he’d whisper before leaning in, pressing his lips against yours, “you make me happy.”

and you’d smile, close to his face before whispering back, “my boy.”

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omg hey fellow libra

hey bae! how ya doin

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)

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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