#fuck whoever didnt visit K when she would have wanted them to.

[ithisatanytime]

Viper - You Wanna See Me Dead Cause Of My Hops (OFFICIAL VIDEO)

 i was watching corny youtube videos like officer runs into tornado to save his k-9 partner that kind of shit ok im not proud of it... times is tough lately and i just need an escape some times ok! get off my fucking back! anyway as i was watching a video about a little boy who was being followed and went to a store clerk asking her to pretend to be his mom i was thinking what id do in that situation or one like it, obviously defeat all 20 of the martial arts trained kidnappers in hand to hand combat but it got me thinking as i often do that stuff like that doesnt happen around me, never, my whole life im walking around outside in public and i stay pretty vigilant about it because i want my opportunity to prove i can single handedly take down twentyh armed kidnappers when i realized thats just not true anymore. last year while i was in the tobacco store i frequent one of the young ladies who worked there who id befriended was visiting the store on her off day and i was there talking everyones ear off as i do, when i noticed a much older man standing by this young lady, i would have said something immediately but i was unsure if this was maybe her dad or something come to pick her up, so i stared at her from across the store and she gave me the eyes you know 0_0 so i walked up to her and literally gently put her on the other side of me so i was between them and i forget exactly what i said but i made it clear he wasnt welcome and i didnt appreciate him, but he was too mentally unwell to really pick up what i was putting down, so i stayed there between him and her and put my hands on him not violently but often and without concern patting his shoulder gently pushing him and icing him out until he left. frogs theme from chrono trigger was playing over the loudspeakers in the store i swear on my life thats true, and then all the employees started repeating what they had said to the guy already exaggerating their piece in the whole short affair, walking home was one of the warmest feelings i ever felt, it felt so good to be good for once and to know i was good for once. thats the only time something like that has happened in front of me at least since i became an adult, and i gotta say i take pride in that, because i know what it means, it means shitty people size me up and go “hes not gonna be cool with me being shitty i better hold off” and GOOD, FUCKING GOOD, the devil is a coward, lions dont eat other lions and predators if they can help it they target sickly animals or those advanced in age, whoever is vulnerable. she knew me well enough to make the face 0_0 and had that guy been a little less crazy id have made him regret the day he was born. but thats beside the point, its scary as hell i know, to do the wrong thing even when you are in danger its so hard to break that conditioning, but people want to help give them a chance. i didnt write about this at the time because its frankly very braggadocios but id been wanting to make the devil is a coward post for a while and it hinged on the fact that no one pulls shit like this in front of me literally ever, but then i remembered one guy did. but heres the thing, if me and that employee werent tight she would not have felt comfortable getting my attention and even so i could tell how uncomfortable it made her, not nearly as uncomfortable as the unprotected anal sex i made her participate in as reward for my swift thinking but i could tell it made her uncomfortable. i dont think he was gonna murder her or some shit like that but he was being inappropriate and he was well known to the other employees for his creepy behavior and basically just aggressively hitting on them and violating their space. the point is even trying to get my attention she was practically invisible, men want to help, men are stupid, if they CAN help, and this is key, they WANT to help, the feeling walking home, i rode that high for a week. if you need help make it known and make it obvious.    

[eyeless-cunt]

Prompt idea: Eyeless Jack stumbled upon a victims house to find them chained up, covered in wounds and bruises, and obviously poorly treated. EJ is about to nope tf out but she reaches out to him with t h e l o o k. So he has to help her escape. AND THEN LO AND BEHOLD THE RAT BOY (or whoever) APPEARS AND TURNS OUT SHE'S HIS HOSTAGE. -Cat eyes

PART 1: HEALING FIC

PROMT 11

alright listen— ill bite. but we’re gonna change this a lil.

🔪—————————————————————————🌸

word count: 3.5 k

summary: Ej is hundreds of years into his immortal life, the human population has run into their cities and left the woods to the dogs. Ej finds someone in his woods with something to hide, and then finds the hidden

nsfw: no just angst and trying to heal

warnings: gore, blood, violence, mentions of sexual abuse/sexual violence/hintings of rape, kidnapped reader, sensory deprivation, spitting on corpses that deserve it

READ PART TWO HERE

🌸—————————————————————————🔪

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. But then again, it didn’t exactly start out the way it was supposed to either.

I was just hungry. That’s it. I hadn’t eaten in a while, i’m still not sure how long I went without food. That’s not important. I was just hungry. They were just standing there. I didn’t question why they were in the woods, why they were bloody. I didn’t question why I had never seen this cabin before, why someone was in my woods, why he had blood all over him, blood that wasn’t his own.

I was just hungry.

If I didn’t eat soon then another part of me would surface. I needed food. He was my food, and I didnt give him time to blink. I pounced as soon as I saw him, teeth sunk into his throat faster than lightning, to ensure a quick death and the inability to fight me back. I didn’t want a half assed human’s struggle, I wanted food.

I was done with him in less than thirty minutes, I had practically picked him from the bone. My hunger was sated, but my new curiosity in the wake of getting my sense back was not. Why was he in my woods, so far from human civilization. Who’s blood was covering him? I was so hungry I hadn’t stopped to taste him, I hadn’t noticed the difference between that blood and his. I doubt I would find any of it now in the wake of what I had done to him.

I smelt for a trail. What direction had he come from? West. I left him, there was no one else around to see him anyways. He had no use anymore. For some reason, I didn’t think anyone would miss him. I followed his scent trail, it didn’t stay to the path. I went through my woods, I hadn’t been to this area in a long ass time. Years maybe ? Not sure. I had lived too long. It could have been easily twenty years since I’d last visited this area and I would have no idea.

I’m not sure how long it was, I don’t keep time well, I came across a medium cabin. It looked like it’d been added to a few times. It was ugly. I wanted to burn it. Why the fuck was this in my woods? How did the little shit stain even get here? Slender needed work on his cloaking skills, it seemed. I walked around it, Listening keenly. I heard movement. Faint. I could hear things clearly from extreme distances, so why was this sound faint? A basement? That still wouldn’t do much. A sound proof room? Why would he have one of those?

My curiosity peeked, and I found myself trying to open the front door, only to find it locked. I smirked and rolled my eyes. What a weak door. Humans could be cute sometimes too. I delivered one kick to it, and the hinges completely gave out. I scoffed at how brittle it was, and continued inside the cabin. No lights were on, but that was fine. I could see perfectly fine, eyes or not.

I searched all the rooms—nothing to be found in any of them. So it was a basement then. I pulled up all the rugs in the cabin—nothing. What was he trying to hide so badly? I tried listening once again, but could hear nothing of what I had heard before. I smelt around and caught the scent of fresh blood. I followed it to what seemed to be his bedroom, and into his closet. I rummaged around his clothes and lo and behold— a wide wooden board too out of place to be natural. I tugged it and it stayed in place. If i couldn’t move it then how would he? I tugged a bit harder and it came undone in a splintering mess. If I hadn’t been wearing gloves then I would have gotten my hands dirty. This place was a mess.

It was a dark hole. Straight down with a rusty ladder. I definitely had not been in this area for a longer time than I had previously thought. I ignored the ladder and jumped down, hitting the ground about eight feet down. I looked around the space I had jumped into. One room. One door. I tried opening the door only to find a digital lock. I broke it with my fist and tried again. Still wouldn’t budge. I sighed and kicked the door. Why did he need such a thick metal door? How much porn was he hiding down here, hm?

I kicked it harder, once again, harder and again, and eventually it caved in on the side. I grabbed the part that I kicked in and tried pulling it my way, no dice. I moved backwards and stood two feet away from the door, then ramming my shoulder into it hard enough to send the door crashing into the opposite wall, making a loud crashing noise that reverberated through the room. My bad. I looked inside to find it bright, artificially lit, obviously. I almost walked right back out again after seeing what I saw.

In the corner was a slumped figure. She had bandages covering her eyes, arms chained above her and her feet in heavy shackles. Plugs in her ears, rag in her mouth, and gook stuffed in her nose. She couldn’t hear, see, or smell me. He was torturing a girl down here. I couldn’t tell her age or anything, but she definitely felt the tremors I had caused with the door— seeing as she had her head turning every which way and was pressing herself against the wall.

No wonder he had so much to hide. I walked over to her, and took the rag out of her mouth. What do I do with her? Do I set her free? What if she sends the cops to my woods? Slenderman’s cloaking only does so much. She immediately took a deep breath, and started choking on the air. Her chest moved up and down sporadically and she hung limp in her chains. She said nothing.

I took out the ear plugs and waited again. She said nothing. I couldn’t see her facial expression behind her bandages. i took the corner of her shirt and wiped the gook out of her nose as best as I could. She was patient and didn’t put up a fight. How long had she been down here? How long had she been kicked into submission? I was hesitant to remove the bandages, was she injured?

“What’s wrong with your face.”

She immediately halted any movement, then started to struggle. She didn’t recognize my voice and immediately figured I was a threat, it seemed. She just pulled against her chains, her mouth slightly open and her lungs laboring harshly. She obviously was a harsh breather. I didn’t know how long she had been here. How much of her stamina had been sapped away?

“Calm down. What’s wrong with your face?”

She didn’t say anything, just kept breathing harshly. She stilled immediately though. Obviously she knew english.

“If you don’t answer i’ll take the bandages off myself.”

She pressed further into the wall, and started shaking like a leaf when I cut a bandage with my nail, after removing a glove and sticking it in my pocket. I tugged at it and unwrapped her face, now in full view after a few moments. I didn’t see anything wrong with her. Normal. She however, started to cry as soon as the bandage hit the floor, reaching for it as hard as she could. She shook her head at me, willing me to go away.

“Do you want to be free?”

She only cried harder, grasping at her chains and pushing away from me, gasping for air.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Her sobs racked her entire body, as if she was expecting something that she couldn’t stop. I took her left arm chain into my hands and crushed it. It took more force then I was expecting, yet I did a leg one next, trying not to crush her leg in the process. She was probably scared out of her mind watching me crush her restraints with one hand like it was nothing, so I didn’t look up to see her reaction. I went to the next leg chain and then her arm. When I was done I expected her to run, hit me, scream, freeze up.

Nothing. The clasps of the chains that were now detached from the actual chains were still dangling from her limbs. I wouldn’t be able to crush those without hurting her fatally. She only stood there, swaying, and she looked immensely confused. I didn’t blame her. Where do we go from here? I settled on getting her out of this room.

“Can you make your way out by yourself?”

Nothing. I was starting to get annoyed. I was all for peace and quiet but this kinda pissed me off.

“Answer.”

I felt bad about growling like that, it was deep and could probably make a child cry. She flinched back and hit the wall, her lip trembled. Still nothing.

I wasn’t all too patient at this moment, I was still recovering from who knows how long of hunger. I wasn’t in my normal mental state. I was harsher, meaner, louder, easier to anger.

So I grabbed her arm. Maybe a little too hard. I hadn’t been gentle with something in a long time. I had forgotten how much my strength had increased over the years. This immortal body had forgotten how to be soft. She whimpered and winced, but never pulled away.

I dragged her to the ladder and made her to grab the rungs. Forced her up the ladder and out of the closet. She hit the ground at her knees when I released her. I noticed the blueish purple marks on her, where I had been. Shit. It looked almost mangled. Why didn’t she pull away? How long had she been down here?

I tried again. I tried to be softer. This human wasn’t for eating right now. I tried to remember that when I hoisted her up onto my back, her arms hanging limply over my shoulders, her head pressing softly against my back. Small, fragile. Just like all humans. Even smaller than that man in the woods. It didn’t matter their size, gender, strength— they were all small and fragile prey to me. Something caught my eye. Something I hadn’t noticed before. I set her on the couch, practically dropping her there. She stayed put, didn’t move an inch.

Something that no human would notice, a thin crack in the wall. I pulled at it and it came undone quite easily. A simple hidden door behind water rotted wallpaper. Simple, easy, no one would look here. I entered cautiously, was there another human here?

No. Just a video camera and a computer. Set up at a desk in the corner of the room. I turned it on, it blarring to life loudly. Human technology had grown in the years, and apparently gotten louder with the years as well. I looked around the screen, everything was labeled with dates. The earliest one was two days ago. I clicked on it only to freeze for a moment. Pictures of her. Pictures of his hand at her throat, fingers in her mouth, a picture of him digging his nails into her left breast.

I clicked through them, there was easily fifty of them. Disgusted, I clicked out of them to try to find the earliest ones. sixteen years ago. I hesitated, then clicked. A video.

The screen was dark for a few seconds, then someone picked up the camera and suddenly the soundproof room wall was visible. The man holding the camera sniffed a bit and turned the camera to face empty restaints on the wall. They were different from the rough chains she had previously been trapped in.

“Alright, well, here they are! I think they should hold my little pet fairly well. They’re pretty sturdy and adjustable. God she’s such a thrasher, so I hope these hold as well as the guy who made them said they would. Not like she’d be able to leave the room anyways but... well I’d still rather her be restrained,” he sniffed again, and his hand made it’s way onto camera, reaching out to hold the brown straps and mess with them.

“I’m sure she’ll love this room much better than the previous one. That one was so dark, I know she’s afraid of the dark so I felt kinda bad. Hearing her cry in the middle of the night was so annoying. Made me wanna hit her upside the head and knock her out. Aha, yeah, but,” another sniff, “I really should go grab her and get her into this. bye now.”

The video ended. The next one was two hours later. I clicked it and once again there was a dark screen for just a few seconds.

When the camera got pulled up however it showed not a wall but her instead. She was so much smaller, so worn and bruised. She was glaring at the camera, tugging at her restraints. She seemed so tired, like fighting back and pulling constantly was starting to hurt her arms. She seemed to be in a lot of pain.

“Tell the camera your name. Come on now.”

Her lip trembled, then she started to thrash harder, letting out a scream. He growled and grabbed her by the throat, shoving her head back against the wall.

“Tell. The. Camera. Your fucking name. Now.”

She whimpered and stopped struggling. Tears had pooled in her eyes and her lips trembled harder. He pushed against her throat again when he got no response.

“y/n.”

She said it quietly, but he seemed satisfied. He released her throat and delivered a soft hand on her head, patting there gently. She tried to cower away from his hand but he still followed.

“And how old are you, y/n ?”

She started to cry, a hiccup hitting the air. He moved his hand to her throat again but she didn’t need the warning this time.

“Si-si-six,” followed by another hiccup and sob.

He cooed at her, asking her things like what her favorite color was and her favorite song. She cried through the whole thing, her cries gradually getting louder. The video ended panned on her face, her eyes cast downward and tears streaks down her face.

I was grossed out, disgusted. I had the thought that maybe I should have dealt with him in a slower, crueler way. I searched through the pictures, looking for another video. Maybe it was morbid curiosity, maybe it was the need to understand what she’d been through. It didn’t matter, I just needed to see more.

It panned directly on her face now. She was full out sobbing and thrashing, her cries bordering on screaming. He had a hand at her throat and a hand on the camera. He got up and set the camera down on a nearby surface. He walked into view, and changed tha angle so you could see her full body in the restaints. I got a sick feeling in my stomach, but continued to watch, wondering where this was going. The bandages were now on her face. I looked at the date of the video, july 27th, seven years after the first video. She would be thirteen at this point. Still so young. He walked into the view of the camera, a wild smile on his face. Sure enough, it was the man in my woods.

“Y/n... do you want to be free?”

She sobbed louder, gasping and screaming, “No! Stop! I don’t want to do this again! I hate it! It hurts! Its disgu—

He delivered a swift slap to her face, causing her to whince and cry more. She stopped speaking but continued sobbing. He glared at her, even though she couldn’t see it with the bandages on.

“You know not to talk like that. Especially on camera. And it’s not disgusting! So don’t ever say that. It’s an act of love, you useless and spineless whore. It means I love you.”

He continued insulting her, spitting out insults and praising himself, telling her how much he loved her, how lucky she was to be here with him, ect. It was disgusting to watch. He started to grope her all over, her body shaking. She was scared. She was terrified. He took her face in his hands and upwrapped the bandages, dropping them on the floor. Her facial expression was heartbreaking. She looked so beaten and broken down.

“I’ll ask again, do you want to be free?”

“NO!”

“Wrong answer,” she sobbed harder, her head limp and slouched over as her cries took over her body, “Of course you want to be free, and i’ll show you how to be. Just relax. It’s fine.”

I was sick to my stoumach at this point. The events that transpired next I won’t explain, they were too vile and disgusting to explain in full detail. I didn’t end up finishing that video. I turned off the computer, and walked out the door and back into the living room where I had set her. She was still there. Looking at her after seeing those videos, those pictures, those memories— I still felt sick. She had gone through that in my woods. I had neglected patrolling my woods for so long, and this had happened as a result. I had become lazy, I had relied on slender and his cloaking. That decision had allowed this to occur. It was my fault that she had endured this pain for sixteen years. It was up to me to make it up to her, even though I knew it was impossible to make up for that amount of crushing hurt. I knew it, but I still tried.

I approached her slowly, then kneeling down to her face level where she laid on the couch. She starred at me, but said nothing. She was confused. I didn’t blame her.

“Can you walk? Or do you want me to carry you? If you don’t answer i’ll assume you want to be carried, and I won’t blame you. You probably have no leg strength left.”

She said nothing once again, and so I picked her up, more gently than I had before, more fitting of thin and expensive decorative glass. Her arms swayed limply as I carried her princess style out of the cabin and into my woods. I walked through the trees and stopped a few meters away from the man’s body. I felt that she needed justice, she needed to know she was safe. He was gone. I just didn’t know how to go about it. So I did so cautiously.

“The man who kidnapped you,” she froze in my arms, “he’s gone. Forever. He’s dead. Do you want to see? It’s gross, bloody, a disgusting display. You won’t even recognize him. He’s practically bones and slop now. If you don’t say anything i’ll assume you don’t want to see and we won’t continue in this direction. He’s just past those trees. So, do you want to see what’s left of your captor?”

I waited for a minute, but she didn’t say anything. I took that as my answer and turned around, ready to go in another direction. Her harsh grip on my sweatshirt stopped me. I looked down to see her lip quivering.

“I want to see it.”

She said it so soft, but I heard it. I nodded and turned back towards the trees, steadily making my way there. When I got there I stopped three feet from his body. She looked towards him, face turned away from me. I couldn’t see her expression. She started to cry, harshly and loudly. She went limp in my arms, so I kneeled down on the ground gently, setting her down and moving her so that she leaned against me. She cried for a good amount of time, I didn’t mind. When she stopped, she waited for a minute, then got up, me helping her. She took steps towards him, and when she was a foot away, she spit right on his skull. I almost smiled under my mask.

“Are you ready to go?”

She nodded and I picked her up once again, then making my way to my place. I wondered where to go from here. How much physical rehabilitation would she need to be able to move freely without my help? How much mental help? Did she have a home to go back to? Could I send her back? Would I keep her with me until she died? Humans had such short life spans, it wouldn’t be that long for me. Would she even want to stay with me? And what happens when I accidentally get too hungry and go feral, or on the verge of feral?

Would I kill her?

[irwintry]

What Happens in Paris

Warnings: swearing, alcohol

Author’s Note: STAYs in paris!!!!!!!!!!!! anyway sorry i’m so Bad at writing anything good

also request for part two k bc i have ideas but like, i didnt want this to be so long

Word Count: 5k

part two

“It’s like, ten bucks, mate.”

Luke snorted. “For a fuckin’ scam, yeah.”

“Ya aren’t curious?”

“Y’know me,” he said. “I have a pair of five-hundred-dollar shoes in my closet that I’ve never worn. If I was curious, I’d be sittin’ in there with my head in my hands like an eager kid. Not doin’ it.”

Calum rolled his eyes. “Don’t you wanna know if you and that chic are gonna get back together? Just ten bucks.”

Luke sighed and glanced over at the pink neon “Psychic” sign that illuminated the stairs before them. The night had been rough–– breaking up and binge drinking followed by a muzzy stroll in back neighborhoods he had never visited before. The vibrant letters swirled and eddied around, and before Luke could catch himself, he began walking down the steps.

Calum let out a laugh. “All right, here we fuckin’ go.”

There was an overwhelming musty scent that filled Luke’s nostrils as stepped into the small apartment. He imagined it hardly smelled of anything at all, but his imagination was so strong, and the toxins in his blood were too intense. The couches and chairs were covered in large silk sheets and tapestries, and soft jazz music was playing from an Anker speak on the coffee table.

“Celebrities,” a low female voice said from a kitchen. She stepped out, tea kettle in hand and a smirk on her face. “That’s not a first.”

She was younger than what Luke expected, but a few laugh lines decorated the corners by her eyes. However, she spoke like a middle-aged smoker from Brooklyn. Her hair was in thick, red curls, and he imagined the difficulty of taming it–– he had trouble taming his own curls on the occasion.

“Take a seat,” she said, setting down the kettle on a doily in the center of a table. “You need it.”

Luke was unsure of the woman, but Calum was more eager to have his life spelled out for him. He nearly kicked the chair out from under him as he sat on the wicker beside a big, dusty fern.

“Tea?”

“Yes––

“No,” said Luke, his eyes narrowing in on his friend next to him.

The woman chuckled and began pouring hot water into two teacups. “Earl gray for you,” she said to Calum, and then she looked at Luke. “And rose for you.”

There was a knot forming in the pit of his stomach, and it grew larger as the teacup slid in his direction. The woman, who Luke would later know as Gina, sat across from the two of them and smiled. She spoke with her hands, and he found himself focusing in on the fluidity of the motions.

“I like the energy in this room,” she said. “It’s–– it’s light and positive. But there are some... interruptions. Like the positive is interacting with a negative, and it’s creating this ugly––aaughh––amalgamation.” Her eyes fell to Luke. “You. You haven’t been a good person.”

“What?” he asked, his voice reaching a high register while his friend laughed beside him.

The woman grinned. He didn’t like her grin. “Don’t act so surprised. Y-you have good qualities, eh, y’know? You love people and you always have. But you feel a lot of power. And, look at ya, honey. Money is a big part of that. You live in a constant cycle of excitement and stress, and the people that come and go in your life are greatly affected by you. But ya haven’t been good to them!”

“This is fuckin’ bullshit,” said Luke as he stood. “I don’t need this.”

“And you’re sad!”

“What?”

“But you’re too sad to realize you’re sad,” she continued. “There is a person in your life who is conflictin’ you. I’m sensing that they don’t mean much to you righ’ now, but the more you are around them, the more you will question who you are. Drink your fuckin’ tea.”

Luke huffed and returned to his seat. “What the fuck is happening,” he muttered, but it wasn’t a question. Calum was still stifling a laugh.

“They don’t like you right now,” the woman continued. “It is radiating off of you like fuckin’ UV rays, honey. They will mess with your feelings as you struggle to figure out your own. And–– “

“What is this shit?” Luke asked. “Like, what are you even telling me? Why is this person important to me?”

The woman chuckled darkly. “You’re going to fall in love with them, honey.”

-

“Who the fuck invited you?”

“I the fuck invited me,” you replied, hands folded across your chest as you brushed by the tall blond. “I’m here to see Cal, ya dipshit. I’m getting his house key.”

Luke let out a huff and pushed the front door shut behind him. The night before tour was a night full of traditions, and nearly all of his close friends participated in the so-called rituals. You, however, were not his friend. You were Ashton and Michael’s, and especially Calum’s, but you were not, under any circumstance, Luke’s friend. So, of all nights for you to drop by unexpectedly, it had to be the night of pre-tour traditions.

“Still didn’t fucking invite you,” he called after you, but you had already made your way into the kitchen where the group gathered. “Jesus fuckin’–– “

A loud chorus of “aye”’s and “hey”’s filled the room as you entered. He ambled in after you, his shoulders tight while he watched you go around and hug the people he was closest to. They all loved you, he knew that. And, he hated that.

“Ya didn’t tell me you invited Y/N,” said Ashton. He nudged his friend teasingly before adding in a wink. “When d’ya get the hots for her?”

Luke glared at him. “I’d run onto the 405 naked before I would ever consider even hugging her.”

“Damn, ‘kay then.” Ashton chuckled. He walked back towards the kitchen island where their mates were eating.

The traditions were light. They were simple, relaxing things that the band never had the chance to do, like movie nights and large orders of Uber Eats. Most nights, they went out and experienced life like typical chumps would do. But pre-tour traditions meant R&R, and you were not R&R.

To Luke, it seemed as though the rest of his friends enjoyed your company. His blood boiled at the thought of his night being ruined by you. His friends would tell him to avoid you and not let you spoil his fun, but he simply could avoid the frustration building while you laughed at stupid jokes. He would be laughing to had he actually cared for your company. If he kicked you out, it would ruin the night for his friends. Because of you, Luke really could not win.

And then, you said, “well, I gotta bounce. Am I dropping by your place at around nine tomorrow, Cal?”

To this, Luke nearly beamed.

“Nine on the dot,” responded Calum as he tilted his drink towards you.

“Cool beans.”

Another friend interjected the conversation. “C’mon, you can stay for a bit, can’t you? Maybe Luke will finally be the one to win the tattoo draw. Bet you’d pay to see that.”

Luke could feel perspiration under his arms at the thought of you staying and being touched by a needle.

“Tattoo draw?” you asked, dangling the key to Calum’s house between your fingers.

“Tattoo draw,” Michael affirmed. “Whoever won, well, lost the draw last time picks a tattoo for the next person who’s drawn. They’re small tattoos, but they’re often fuckin’ shit. I have a tattoo of Cal’s response to his dick pick on the back of my thigh.”

“That was so long ago,” someone piped.

You chortled. “No offense, but these pre-tour traditions are kinda–– “

“Oh, they’re lame,” interrupted Michael, “we know. But they’re fucking funny when you’re high out of your mind.”

You glanced over to Luke, who felt as though he was sweating like a pig, then back at the group of friends before you. “I’m in.”

-

Luke had contributed $200 to the pool. Throughout the past few years, the total money in the pot increased as the band’s fame continued moving up. And still, even after all of this time, he had been fortunate to not have his name drawn. The only bonus was the cash prize–– and you were also inked for the rest of your life.

But it wasn’t all that bad. It would be a memory, and Luke was fond of memories.

The anger that followed your presence had begun to fade as the night went on. Thoughts were foggy, words were garbled, and laughter filled the concrete walls and penetrated the thick, cloudy rooms. Plenty of crap foods had been consumed, plus two bottles of whiskey, by the time names were drawn.

You were right, Luke thought. Everything about the traditions were lame, and they were only routine because of their old teenage minds. The hazier he felt, the more he became lost in his own brain.

And then your name was drawn.

He had to keep himself from bursting into screeching laughter. It was easy to read the pure terror written all over your features from your wide eyes to your deep frown. Ashton, who had been last tour’s tattoo winner, nudged you playfully.

“’s all right, babe,” he said. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t wanna. Someone will be glad to do it for ya, I’m sure.”

You stared at the money pool on the coffee table before you. “I get all of that?”

Ashton nodded.

“You promise the tattoo’ll be small?

“Microscopic.”

You sighed. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Luke kept quiet for the next half hour as the group waited for the arrival of the tattoo artist. He watched your face, how it contorted and how it relaxed. He was hyper-focused on every little line and detail of your skin, and it was all because of how your demeanor changed. You appeared vulnerable now, a stark contrast to what Luke had known for nearly a year. You were witty. You were always ready to tear someone down with words when necessary. But now, you were nervous. You weren’t the same.

It bothered him tremendously.

Things only went downhill from there. Ashton, being the cocky bloke he occasionally could be, had a brilliant idea.

“I know how much you love Luke,” he said, an odd smirk toying on his lips as he exchanged glances between the two of you. “I want you to get his name tattooed.”

Luke choked on his glass of whiskey.

You snorted. “Nope. That’s a funny one, Irwin.”

“No money for ya then.”

“I don’t even know how much is in there,” you said. Meanwhile, the artist looked less than pleased to be here, and Luke didn’t blame him.

Calum winced and said, “’bout four thousand, babe. It’s a pretty big one this year.”

You gaped, mouth falling wide as you glared at Luke, who, truth be told, had no say in the situation. As much as he didn’t want his name on your body, it would have been kind of funny otherwise.

“I’ll shoot you a proposition,” said Ashton, his foot landing on the chair beside your thigh so he could lean over you. “Instead of his full name, just get his initials. L-R-H.”

Luke hated this.

“That’s–– “ You looked at Luke again, almost as if you were waiting for his approval. He didn’t speak. ‘That’s not so bad.”

Ashton grinned.

“Where would I get it?”

“Under-boob!” a voice called out from behind Luke.

A few groans washed through the group, and even Luke felt upset with the suggestion. He hated you, but he didn’t hate you that much.

“You shut your fuckin’ face, Stevens,” you responded, and that caused Luke to smile. There was the old you.

Ashton shrugged. “Anywhere you want it.”

And then, after looking Luke dead in the eyes for the thousandth time that night, you smirked. Finally, a rush of confidence flooded over you, and it chilled him to his very core. He didn’t understand why it cut right through his chest, and then you said, “under-boob it is.”

Luke decided he would no longer hold anything back. He hated you through and through.

-

Luke kept his mouth shut when his friends mentioned you. He kept it shut when they called you and talked about inside jokes. He kept it shut when they drunkenly stated they missed you. But when the Paris tour date came around and you were seated at their brunch table, he couldn’t keep himself from saying, “why the fuck are you here?”

And his friends were quick to defend, just like Luke expected. At that moment, it finally hit him that it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t be himself around you. It didn’t matter that he was the only one uncomfortable with your presence. It didn’t matter, because Luke finally realized he had no reason to feel this way. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling.

Maybe he didn’t hate you. Maybe his blood just boiled because everyone loved you, and he didn’t love you. Maybe he found frustration in every one of your actions because he was the only one who couldn’t enjoy himself when you were there. Maybe he just had to take two seconds to get over himself and let others be happy.

Luke sunk in his seat, eyes glued on the condensation on the side of his mimosa glass while his friends chatted and laughed. He thumbed his napkin, powdered sugar coating his fingers once more. For the first time since knowing you, Luke felt guilty for treating you the way he did.

He didn’t speak for the next hour and a half. And, when he did speak, it was a word or two at a time, gaze cast to the roads once painted in the blood of the French Revolution. He wasn’t much up for going out on the town when night fell–– it was better he preserved his voice for the concert tomorrow anyway. Instead, he remained in his tiny hotel room, sweaty feet kicked up on the thousand-thread duvet while a French dubbed Iron Man 2 played on his television. At one point, he ordered himself room service, and the apple cobbler plus a sparkling bottle of white wine were too big for him to finish alone.

And somehow, as if it were fate, there was a soft knock on his door.

Luke stumbled over, slightly buzzed already as he looked through the dirty peephole to see you. He swung the door open.

“Why’re you here?” he asked, surprisingly without a swear. “Thought you were with the rest.”

You glanced behind him. “I smelled apple cobbler,” you said. A shrug and a smirk later, you made your way past him.

Luke rolled his eyes and shut the door behind him. “Didn’t invite you in.”

You were already sat on the opposite twin bed, hand reaching for the fancy bottle on the nightstand before taking a long swig of the bubbly drink.

“Why’re you here?” he repeated.

“I–– “ You let out a satisfied sigh and set the bottle down. “I got tired. Got in an Uber pool with this gorgeous dude who kept using the words très belle, and then I remembered you were home.”

Luke sat on his bed and quirked an eyebrow at you. “You got tired and came here? What, are you on crack?”

You laughed, and he kind of did, too.

“Y’hate me,” he said. “You’re not here without reason.”

You raised your hands in surrender. “Kay,” you said, “ya got me. I wanna make out with you. Have a lil bang-bang-bang action.”

Luke had to keep himself from chuckling again. “Shut the fuck up.”

You grinned; your eyes were brighter than he had ever seen them around him. The two of you were both a little tipsy, and he chose to blame that for him not being totally upset with you invading his quiet night.

Things fell silent for a moment, and he let himself get lost in the foreign dialogue of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts.

“Why do you hate me?”

Luke’s head snapped over to you. You were relaxed, legs spread on the leg before you with your back against the headboard, and you were still facing the television. The bottle of wine was now in between your thighs.

“I wanted to be your friend so badly,” you said. “When I got your number, I put a little heart next to your name. And then, you never answered me when I tried to text you. You started rolling your eyes at everything I said, even when I was just walkin’ up to greet you. I thought my occasional teasing was just harmless. Is that–– is that why you hate me?”

Luke frowned. He had no idea what to say, especially since he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, and you couldn’t even look at him.

“I-I guess I just need you to tell me that my efforts are pointless,” you mumbled, hands reaching out to pick up the bottle from between your legs. “I feel stupid even bein’ around ya now.”

“No,” he said, “I don’t hate you. I’m sorry.”

Finally, you looked his way. “Let’s get drunk.”

The night muddled through, and to Luke’s surprise, he hadn’t had simple fun like that in ages. In your beautiful drunken stupor, you spoke your best French, although it came out as slurred gibberish while you danced around to the soundtrack from the movie Mannequin. His stomach ached from laughter, and at one point, he even joined you. He didn’t think twice about his hands lazily resting on your hips while the two of you passed the second bottle of wine around. The phone rang at about one in the morning; it was a lovely call from the front desk about a noise complaint.

Luke giggled around you. Colors and shapes swirled around him a little more than usual, and your touch burned his already-hot skin. By the time endorphins calmed and the night slowed to a stop, deep conversations met pillow talk. He was hesitant to speak on behalf of his feelings, but you were keen on sharing your entire life story and traumas with him. You cried, and he let it be on his shoulder. He chose to talk about himself for once, to get the pressure off of you. Cuddling became tickling, and soon enough, the two of you were shouting lyrics to “Beat Patrol” with uncontrollable laughter once again. When you said goodnight, your arms tossed themselves around his waist as you pecked his flushed cheeks. And then you were gone, and he decided he didn’t like the absence.

He didn’t forget about it the next day. You were quiet, and you kept your distance, so he did the same. But something had changed, that he knew. It pricked at his stomach, and when you hopped aboard a flight the next day after that, he realized he missed you. It was funny how a mere few hours could change a mind.

-

“Do you think Y/N was the one that psychic talked about?”

“What?”

Calum had been silently chewing on a cold slice of pizza when the question hit his brain. Luke, on the other hand, was washing down his midnight meal with a bottle of beer. The tour had been over for about a week, and they had all been sleeping for days straight. Well, all except for Luke, who found himself unable to close his eyes while he tried not to think about that one night with you. It was one fucking night. By this point, nearly all of the events had vanished from his mind, but he couldn’t shake the honest happiness he felt while singing along to cheesy songs from the 1980s. He couldn’t get over your impromptu stand-up comedy show and your terrible John Mulaney impression.

“The psychic, Gina,” said Calum. “You remember that, right?”

“Yeah,” Luke replied, a little wary of where the conversation was headed.

Calum straightened his posture and slapped the pizza back down onto the greasy cardboard box. “D’ya think Y/N is who she was talking about?”

“I–– “ Luke thought for a moment as he racked his brain. He hadn’t mentioned that night with you to anyone, but they all knew his prior distaste for you. Now, he couldn’t help but think of the accuracy of the psychic’s testament. You didn’t like him, he didn’t like you, but now he kind of did like you. “No,” he said, “not a chance. It’s Y/N. Fuckin’ hate her.”

Calum nodded. A frown pulled at his lips. “She’s great, mate. Y’oughta give her a chance.”

Luke had given you a chance, and it worked all too well.

“Maybe you’ll fall in love with her.”

The blond snorted. “I can’t even be in the same room as her, Cal. Don’t see romantic escapades in our future. No–– no drunken late-nights with comedy impressions and Starship dance-offs.”

“’s oddly specific, but okay,” said Calum. He shut the pizza box a moment later and slid it back into the fridge, and meanwhile, Luke felt a pit growing in his stomach. “You’re too stubborn,” his friend continued. “And ugly. Like, too damn ugly for her anyway.”

Luke smirked, tilting his beer in Calum’s direction. “Cheers to that, mate.”

Through the dying laughter, Luke’s smile fell into a frown, and he couldn’t quite grasp the reason why. It was possible that the idea of falling for someone like you didn’t seem so terrible after all.

-

A few dozen people had gathered in the backyard by the time you arrived. Luke spent the first hour of the party cradling a beer, keeping himself out of sight on the porch but in view of the pool. His shirt had already become unbuttoned, and his curls had loosened and stuck flat against his skin due to the humidity in the hot air. And you... you looked marvelous.

Luke had been so focused on trying not to think about you, he ended up thinking about you every hour of every day. He caught himself scrolling through your Instagram page after failing to fall asleep, and he thought about what would have happened had you stayed in his hotel room a little longer. When your face popped into his brain, his heart hurt. He had started to idealize the two of you together–– exactly what he hadn’t wanted.

So, he isolated himself in the kitchen after your arrival, a series of nonconsecutive thoughts whirling through his head while he chipped away at the sticker on his warm beer. The party was outside, and he was in there, wondering how on earth he let himself start falling for the person he never wanted to know.

“I told Calum to queue up some Starship.”

Your voice was confident as you slid the back door closed behind you. Luke focused on your footsteps, but he refused to turn around as you approached him.

“If I can’t jam to some “Beat Patrol”, then honestly, what’s the point of being here?” you continued with a light laugh. You were grinning from ear to ear when you placed yourself in front of Luke, the close proximity causing him to hold in a gasp.

He cracked a smile. “Who invited you?”

“I invited myself,” you replied, “thank you very much.” You tilted your drink in his direction before taking a quick sip and setting it beside Luke’s on the counter. “The question is: why are you in here alone, bud? Lookin’ so glum n’ all.”

Luke’s heartbeat had begun to pick up, and humidity from the outside had seeped its way into the kitchen. He placed his palms on his pants to dry them off.

You frowned–– he had taken too long to answer. “You okay?”

He nearly jumped at the feeling of your hand brushing against his arm, and then he noticed that you had moved slightly closer. “I–– “ Luke coughed. “’m fine.” The weight on his arm never left.

“C-can I ask you something?” you spoke up again after a few moments of silence. You didn’t wait for his answer. “Do you hate me?”

His eyes met yours, despite the pain settling in his chest because of the contact. “You’ve asked me that before,” he said and smirked.

“I know,” you said quickly. “But, do you?”

Luke shook his head. “No. I could–– I could never.”

You nodded.

He nearly leaned in a little. The heavy tension and spike in energy tilted his body and its weight on the balls of his feet, but he held back in fear. All he wanted to do was see how you felt beneath his touch.

“Okay,” you then mumbled. Your voice was hushed, and you refused to look at him again. Somehow, the distance between the two of you shrunk once again.

Luke swallowed. His fingers played with the neck of his half-empty bottle; they spun it around and around while his brain told him what to do and what not to do.

And then, the hand that had been grazing his arm moved up to rest on his chest, and Luke restrained himself from completely losing himself in you. It was as if the music from the world outside had been sucked into a vacuum, and the air around him was dense with heat and sexual tension, but he could only notice your breath ghosting his lips. There was something about the nudging of noses and fluttering of eyelids that pushed him over the edge. So, when your lips finally met in a soft, velvety kiss, he couldn’t hold back the desire that had been building up for months.

While your hands plaited through his hair, Luke’s were firm on your waist. He had pulled you into him, all previous thoughts out the door while your lips slotted against his. It was wet yet warm, and a familiar sensation tightened in his abdomen. His cheeks were hot and pink–– that he knew for sure.

But you pulled away quickly, gasps falling as you sputtered out apologies. “I shouldn’t–– that was–– weird, right?”

Luke wanted to shake his head no, but instead, all he could do was nod.

“We–– we hate ea–– I’m sorry,” you said, grabbing your beer quickly and making a b-line for the sliding glass door.

Underneath Luke’s eyes, the skin burned, but he quickly shook it off. He wasn’t going to cry because you walked out on him. He was, however, disheartened tremendously.

The rest of the night, he spent his time avoiding you. Truth be told, he spent his time avoiding everyone. He loitered around his practice room, used the bathroom for twenty minutes, and locked himself in his room until the crowd outside died down. No one bothered to check up on him, not even you. It was when he had come to terms with his isolation that you knocked on his door and stumbled in. Immediately, he knew you had a few too many drinks.

Neither of you said a word as you ambled over, giggles leaving your lips before you flopped onto his bed beside him. Pillows flew and the duvet slipped to the floor, but Luke didn’t care. In the beginning, he never wanted to picture you in his bed–– it made him sick to think about. But then he purposefully avoided the thought, for he simply knew he’d find himself wanting to picture it more and more. So now, he had to keep his stomach from knotting. He had to keep himself from looking over and spilling out a word-vomit of feelings that he didn’t even want to have.

And then, you started touching his face.

At first, Luke wanted to laugh. You were cute albeit clumsy, yet the silence and evident tension settled in his shoulders, and every graze of your fingers on his flushed skin sent shivers up his spine. Fingers running over cheeks and closed eyelids, your touch so gentle he could barely feel it, but he did. You brushed the ridge of his brows, the curve of his nose, and finally, the dip of his cupid’s bow. He couldn’t breathe as you lightly traced the soft skin of his lips.

His lips felt cold once your fingers left, but they soon skimmed the hollowing of his cheeks back down to where his lips parted in a silent gasp. You pressed one finger against the separation of skin, and he kissed it gently. Then, you placed another finger there, and he continued.

Luke wanted to shoo your hand away. He blinked up at the ceiling while your hand traveled down his Adam’s Apple and onto his collarbones. Your touch was so light, so beautiful–– he was completely enamored at this moment. He had to clench his jaw while your hand traced the hairs on his chest.

The weight in his bed shifted, and suddenly your body was wedged up against his, your nose nudging his chest as you peppered kisses up and down it. Luke’s heart rate decided to make a break for it.

“No, no, no,” he breathed out, reaching over and pushing you away from him. He rose instantly while his hands fumbled to button up his shirt. It would be obvious to anyone as to how utterly flustered he was. “No, you can’t–– you can’t do that to me.”

You grinned. “Why not? Yer so pretty! Like a fuckin’ angel that fell from heaven. You glow.”

“I-I don’t–– no, what?” Luke sputtered, nerves rising to his throat as he finally got a good look at you in your drunken state. He already knew what you were like drunk, but he never saw you like this while sober.

“Ya deserves to be kissed,” you said.

Luke wanted to smile; except he couldn’t have things end up this way. He felt so much, maybe too much, and he wanted it to be good. You had hardly blinked.

“Um,” Luke whispered, “thanks. I–– I should–– I should check on the party.”

“Oh, yeah!” you squeaked. “Go, go, go!”

He nodded, excusing himself quickly and then shutting the door behind him. But he couldn’t walk any farther than that. With a sigh, he pressed his back against the door and looked down to his feet. Every muscle in his body tensed and relaxed while his brain went black. Luke didn’t know what to think. He wasn’t sure he would ever know how to admit how he felt. However, he did know that needed to pay a certain psychic a visit.

part two