'my friend walked into a glass door'

anonymous asked:

agent whiskey x reader with 236?

Characters: Reader x Jack “Whiskey” Daniels

Warnings: death and kingsman: the golden circle spoilers

Prompts: “I just don’t know how to look forward anymore.”

Word Count: 367

A/N: i should be studying for my sociology exam but whoops


“Whiskey?” you knocked on your best friend’s door, and you heard and incoherent mumble. Guessing that was your cue to enter, you pushed the door open and frowned when you saw Whiskey down another glass of alcohol, before slamming the glass on the desk and resting his chin in his hands. Sighing, you walked up to him and asked, “Oh, Jack, what the hell?”

“If you’re gonna give me a lecture, I already heard one from Champ.” Whiskey replied gruffly, and you walked around so you were next to Whiskey and perched yourself on his desk. “And Ginger. Even Tequila, can you believe it?” 

“I’m not here to lecture you.” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose and closing your eyes. “Alright, maybe I am – but I have every right to. I’m worried about you, Jack.”

It had been a month since the death of Whiskey’s wife and unborn son, and it looked like he was getting worse instead of recovering. You knew he was grieving, but his self destructive behaviours were getting you and the other Statesmen concerned. 

“I loved her, y/n.” Whiskey croaked out, his voice cracking. “And now she’s gone. I just don’t know how to look forward anymore.”

“I know it hurts, Jack.” you leaned forward to face him, and he looked up at you. “And this is gonna be harsh, but you gotta move on. You can’t spend your whole life grievin’ like this. Your wife wouldn’t want to see you destroy yourself because of her.” 

Whiskey frowned, but deep down, he knew you were right. He was better than this. 

Then why couldn’t he seem to snap himself out of it?

“Look,” you leaned over to grab Whiskey’s shoulder, giving him a little shake. “Why don’t you, me, Tequila and Ginger go out for tonight? Have a little fun, take your mind off things. It’s a temporary fix, but it’ll be better than you sittin’ alone in here.”

Whiskey wanted to decline, but he sighed. He knew you were trying to help. Maybe it was time he stopped moping around anyway.

He finally nodded, and you gave him a small smile. And after a pause, he smiled back slightly. 

taz characters as comments from a reddit thread about drunk people @ parties

Taako: “Someone went through the house and stole every lightbulb in the house. The owner was passed out at this point. The person was dedicated, even took the bulb from the fridge”

Lup: “A guy kept feeding the bathtub fire until the tv ten feet away melted”

Barry: “My friend has a recording of me sulking over a girl years ago and I said, ‘I’m gonna kill myself in half’”

Merle: “We found our friend (who we had lost earlier) at Denny’s, at 4 in the morning, in a prayer circle with some random family”

Magnus: “A friend of mine was extremely drunk and saw this guy walking his dog. My friend started petting the dog and when the owner asked him to stop he started petting the man instead.”

Davenport: “The host got belligerently drunk, forgot who he’d shook hands with/talked to, and spent the rest of the night making rounds shaking everyone’s hand at least half a dozen times before passing out.”

Lucretia: “After last call, she asked if we were still open. When I told her no, she thanked me for my service and my kindness. When I turned my back, she grabbed a half empty bottle of champagne an earlier customer had left and poured herself a large to-go cup of champagne and walked out. ”

Carey: “Someone stole my friends front door, just ripped if off the hinges and ran down the street”

Killian: “I broke 3 glasses within an hour of each other. Kind of wasn’t my fault but still got forced to drink of a plastic cup for the rest of the night.”

Angus: “Idk I’m 12”

The Dozens of Times Eddie Kapbrak Came Home, and the One Time He Didn’t

(A Story in Sonia’s POV)

–There was the one time Eddie came home angry. Slamming doors, cursing under his breath. I was upset at the language, but more worried he’d catch a little finger, or a toe in the cabinets or doors. I asked why and he pushed me away. He had always been doing that lately. Am I being too much of a worrier? Maybe I am. He’s older now, and doesn’t need me as much. As much as that hurts to admit, seventeen is old enough to be independent. 

–He came home crying again. He’d been doing a lot of that, too. Something was different. He came to me for once. I was selfishly happy, but that left me when I saw him. He had a bruise under his left eye. His lip was cut, and his hands were shaking and red, a sign that he’d had a panic attack again. Those signs used to be foreign to me until he told me those weren’t asthma like I had thought for years. I’d like to think of myself as an almost expert on them now. The only thing hard for me to tell anymore is what might cause them. He has them so often. Eddie comes to me, and sits down, panting. He looks worn down and sad and resigned, as if he’s accepted a heavy fate, or like he was waiting for a piano to fall on him. 

This time when I ask him what’s wrong, he crumbles and starts to cry again. He tells me Henry and his psychopath friends cornered him in the locker room, and roughed him up. He shows me his ribs, and I see red. Partly the dried blood, partly rage. That little freak carved the word “Fag” into Eddie’s little side. It takes everything in me not to take him to the hospital, but Eddie insists he cleaned and dressed it as much as it needed, and it wasn’t deep, no stitches needed. I prayed with everything in me that it wouldn’t scar. When I asked him why they would choose that word, he becomes silent again. He seems to be trying to find the right words to say, and eventually he does. He tells me, stuttering more than the elder Denbrough boy, that it’s because they saw him kissing Richard Tozier. I had nothing to say, and he goes to his room before I could find the right words. I did eventually, over dinner. I tried to make a lighthearted joke, and said he could do better than little Richie Tozier, and that I loved him. He did laugh, but he also cried. This time it was the good way. 

–One time he came home excited, his feet barely touching the ground as he ran upstairs. I called out to him to get the door, but he was down just as fast heading out again. His cheeks are pink and his eyes are bright, and I can’t help but to think that just a few months ago this same boy was crying in shame over what had happened. He was a lot happier in general, due in part I suppose to coming out, but mostly Richard. Richie, Richie this, and Richie that. I almost wanted to tell him I was tired of hearing it, but his happiness wasn’t something I could get tired of. Despite being a trouble maker and a bad mouth, he did take care of Eddie. I did tell him to stop coming home with love marks- unsanitary and shameless little things. I tried not to think about the fact that he still probably got them where I couldn’t see them. He may be an adult next month but he’s still my little angel.

He tells me he’s finally going out on a real date, just the two of them. That they’re going to see a movie, and he tells me not to wait up. I know I’ll try to, but he always manages to come home after I fall asleep. Sneaky little boy. He tells me he’s already left the name, address, and number of the movie theatre on the counter, and that he’ll be with Richie who can be reached as well. I have his number in my Rolodex, as I do his parents, and the rest of his friends- you never know when you might need them. He kisses my cheek and practically skips out to the beat up truck Richard drives. It has a bench seat and the driver seatbelt doesn’t work most of the time, and I cringe thinking about Richie just sitting on it so he doesn’t get a ticket for not actually wearing it. Eddie promised me he’d never drive it, so at least there’s that. 

–He came home today, silent. It’s almost worse when he does that instead of crying. Eddie was pale, and he had dark circles under his eyes. I asked if he was okay, and he just stares at me. It feels like an eternity when he opens and says “The school won’t let Richie and I go to prom together… They said if we showed up they’d kick us out.” His voice sounds so fragile and small, like he doesn’t feel like a real person. I’m furious. I tell him I’ll call the school, but he begs me not to. He says it’s okay, he knew it would happen, that this is just the way things are. I, however, will not stand this. As soon as he goes to his room, I call his principle. I can’t remember exactly what I said, though I am equal parts embarrassed and proud to have used foul language in place of his name. “Mr. Shitstain” and I came to an agreement that they may attend as long as they are within a larger group. He will not allow them to have couple’s pictures, but he did reluctantly allow that they dance together. I tell Eddie in the morning and he cries and hugs me. He goes to Richie to give him good news. 

–He comes home after prom with a photo- the whole group is in it, all holding a sign that says “Loser’s Club”. I cringed at the name, but they chose it for themselves years ago. Eddie and Richie are next to each other, and I suppress an eye roll that Richard had ripped open his shirt to reveal an exclamation point painted on his pale abdomen at the last moment. The picture is slightly blurred, and Eddie confirms my theory when he laughs and says the camera guy was startled and tried to lunge at Richard to put all of his clothes back on. Despite this, I see the stars in his eyes. He is happy, so I am happy. 

–Lately he’s been coming home with heaps of papers, college letters, essays, SATs, tests. I try not to think about him leaving. I turn up the volume on the TV or the radio when he uses the phone to talk to his friends about it. It hurts and he knows it hurts. I’ve never been good at not worrying. This goes on for weeks. I fail to keep my tears in when he’s at school or out with friends, but at the same time, I’m immensely proud. He’s such a good boy. 

–This time he comes home, and he doesn’t say a word, and I can’t see him from the kitchen but I know something is wrong. His feet are dragging and his breathing sounds funny. I drop the spoon into the soup when I hear a crash. He’s laying on the floor and crying. Despite him being curled up in a ball I can see he’s covered in bruises and cuts, and bleeding badly. I try not to scream but when I rush to him I can’t hold it, he’s been cut up badly again, more words carved into his soft belly and his thighs. I can see the word “Queer” seeping through his khaki pantleg as he sobs. This time, he does need stitches. In many places. The only thing he says to me from the hospital bed is that he is oh so tired of this town. Richard never leaves his side, growling at anyone who causes him pain or wakes him up, like a wild animal. I’ve decided that I am incredibly grateful that he is who he is. 

He’s in the hospital for three days. Night one was cleaning and stitching and recounting what happened. The police had been called to file a report. He hesitantly confesses that Henry, Patrick, and the other cretins did this to him. Chief Bowers is red with rage. I hear him in the hallway calling my son a “flamer” but that his boy was “going to get it”. This is the first and only time I’ve yelled at a cop. Richie laughs and holds up his hand for a high five, something I wouldn’t usually reciprocate, but tonight is a night of firsts. Night two was observation and tests to see how bad the internal injuries might be. He has a concussion, but they found no internal damage aside from bruises and a cracked rib. They send him home wrapped in Ace bandages and taped up like Richard’s glasses. That night he tells me he needs to leave, that he can’t take this anymore. I’m angry, and admittedly irrational. We do not speak to each other for a week. 

–When we speak again, he walks in the door with Richie, William, and Michael. Out of his friends, Michael is my favorite despite where he lives being so messy. He brings me flowers and fresh fruits and vegetables. He washes them himself, but only once he gets here so I can see it. He’s a very well mannered and intelligent man. William is wonderful too, but I feel guilt in having trouble understanding him, and he has a habit of talking with his mouth full. He’s not as messy as Richard, so at least there is that. Eddie has healed nicely so far, most of the stitches are out already, and the scars he has, though sadly legible, are hidden under clothes. His lip and eyebrow have small scars, but they are hard to notice. The boys have folded boxes in their hands. I knew this was coming, but I still couldn’t bear it. I stubbornly told him I wouldn’t help him, and that I wouldn’t watch him either. He only nods his head, looking down. 

They pack up his belongings, and I step out into the yard, smoking my first cigarette in years. I swiped one from the Marsh girl months ago, when Eddie was starting to talk about college. I thought that was the worst, but this hurts more. He’s leaving too soon, and I can’t stop him. He promised me he’d finish high school, and go to college, but that he would not live here, in Derry. Because we weren’t completely speaking, I have no idea where he’s moving, and now I’m too embarrassed to ask. When I go back inside, William hands me a piece of paper, his handwriting surprisingly neat, with Eddie’s address, and number. He was moving just outside of the city, into the matchbox apartments. With Richard. I can’t help it. When he walks out of the front door with his things, he kisses my cheek. I can’t help it. When the car drives away, their silhouettes in the windshield. I can’t help it. I sit down on the porch, and I begin to cry. I can’t help it. 

–He doesn’t come in the door anymore. Not the way he used to. No angry slams, no excited pops as the door hits the wall. No silent entries when he’s tired. No little footsteps. He doesn’t come home. He visits, sometimes with Richard, and with his friends. He calls frequently, too. He’s a good boy. Time passes, and he came to visit after graduation. He got accepted to a college in Maine. I try to hide how happy that makes me. I promise I won’t go to the dorms too much. He and Richie talk about their lease ending and moving on campus. His little group of friends are trying their best to stick together. They all got accepted to the same school, and will try to attend until their majors take them elsewhere. It’s nice knowing that he’ll have so many friends. 

He doesn’t come home, but he visits. Holidays he even stays in his old room. Sometimes. Other times he stays with William in his new house, just down the street from mine. Sometimes they visit Richie’s parents, or Michael’s farm. It’s a lot like it used to be, but it isn’t the same. I know it never will be, and while I’m sad, I’m happy too. He doesn’t come home, but he gets married in the same church I was married in. They make the paper as the first same sex couple to get married in Derry. Someone booed them as they walked to their car, but before anyone said anything, Richard flipped them off. I don’t tell Eddie, but I caught it on camera. It’s framed in my room, shameful but endearing. He doesn’t come home, but he visits often, asking for advice. We’ll have lunch together and talk about stain removal, and he’s picked up cross stitching for Richard’s anniversary gift. He’s going to make a sign that says “Tozier-Kaspbrak” for their sitting room. 

He doesn’t come home, but he visits often. Many times with Richard, and even more happily with their new daughter. I’ve always wanted a daughter, so I spoil her rotten. I try not to be so overbearing as I was with Eddie. I know it had the wrong impression on him, and I don’t want her to feel the same. I give her sweets when they aren’t looking, and I teach her all about keeping a good home, and let her watch football with me when they need a babysitter. Eddie doesn’t know, but sports are a guilty pleasure of mine. I want her well rounded, too- to know that girls can like whatever they please. Her name is Amelia Isabelle, and she grows so fast. He doesn’t come home anymore, not like he used to. And I’m so, so grateful. He’s leading a good and proud life, and I’ve never been more proud to be the mother of Edward Tozier-Kaspbrak. He doesn’t come anymore, but when he visits, it’s like he never left at all. I’ve lived a good little life, I feel.

“Sonia Kaspbrak, 65, passed in her sleep in her home of Derry, Maine. Natural causes. She leaves her son, son-in-law, and granddaughter. Funeral to be held this Saturday, July 17th at the First Church of Derry. She will be fondly remembered by all who knew her. Everyone is welcome to attend the open service ceremony being held to celebrate her life. 
Thank you, 
Richard Tozier-Kaspbrak”

7th grade hunt

Since I didn’t have many friends in my own grade I would sneak into 8th grade lunch to hang out with my friends. One day of course one of the teachers got notified that a 7th grader was in there and boy was she not pleased. Most of the 8th grade enjoyed having me around since I wasn’t stuck up and I was really nice. Now the reason why the school didn’t want the grades to interact like that was because a lot of seventh graders were dating eighth graders (but not me) So as I was awkwardly trying to hide from this teacher, I had an idea to sneak outside and have someone else let me back in. I took off my jacket, glasses, and put my hair down so in case they saw me they wouldn’t recognize me right away. As the teacher left to get a list of students names to make sure they were all 8th graders, I bolted out the door (in winter with no jacket on) to the door on the other side of the building. An 8th grader I didn’t even know opened the door for me and as I snuck my way back to my own grades lunch I overheard one of the 8th graders tell everyone not to snitch on me. When it was my grades turn for recess, the 8th graders were going to the cafeteria and I still didn’t have a jacket. Luckily one of my friends had an extra sweater and he let me borrow it.

When we got back to class I asked to use the bathroom and went down to the 8th grade hall to retrieve my jacket and glasses that one of my friends was holding on to. When I get them back I take off my friends sweater outside my class room and all of a sudden the fire alarm goes off (it was a drill) and my class starts walking out. I tossed the sweater back to my friend, pulled on my jacket as I walked out the door and put my glasses back on feeling like a badass. Not only did I escape a suspension for being with the wrong grade, I snuck out of the building when I wasn’t supposed to and got back in past security, and all the 8th graders had my back.

I’ll Still Want You/Stiles Stilinski Fluff

Originally posted by allpeopleareincredible

Most of these are taken from my Wattpad account! (Twtrash01)

Send me requests for the following Fandoms: Teenwolf, Vampire Diaries, Dolantwins, OUAT(Peter Pan, Robbie Kay, Supernatural, Suicide Squad, The 100. Basically I’ll write for any fandom. I’ll write non-smut as well. Be specific in what you want! *I DON’T OWN ANY GIFS*

Request:  Could you do where the reader is uber drunk and Stiles has to pick her up at a bar and take care of her? And the reader being really risqué to him?

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anonymous asked:

Hey , I have a trouble with this show not tell thing , do you have any tips ? Also , can you give me few posts about it ? Thanks !

One way I like to enforce “show, don’t tell” is to imagine yourself in the character’s shoes. Sure, you might think or say ‘”it’s cold” but look at the effects of what the cold has on the characters and on the movement/scene. Integrate it into the scene and the actions.  You want to provide concrete images for the reader, not summarize.

Tell: It was a cold day.

Show: The chilly wind sent goosebumps running across Annette’s arms and she huddled closer to her sister, wishing she had worn longer sleeves or at least brought a light jacket.

Tell: My dog was excited to see my friend.

Show: When Eric walked through the door, Pickles jumped up and ran over, his fluffy tail wagging so hard I thought it might fall off.

Tell: I was sad that my grandpa died.

Show: I picked up the old photo, cleaning the glass with my fingers. My grandpa’s smiling face peeked through the dust but I fought the tears that pricked my eyes and swallowed the emptiness in my throat.

This also applies to showing things like character relationships! You don’t need to write “they were friends” when you can show that connection (and so much more!) through how the characters treat each other. 

“Hey, Ahlia,” he said as he walked toward her, eyeing the comfortable outdoor couches but opting to stand with his classmate. Even though he’d known her since entering the university, it still felt wrong to sit when the princess of his nation stood before him.

“You know I was half-joking about meeting me up here, right?” she said. “I know you have actual work to do.”

He shrugged and looked over the railing to the city streets far below, bustling with people on their way home for the evening. “It was time for a break anyway.”

That tiny moment shows a decent amount about their relationship:

1. They must be pretty close because “hey” is a casual conversation starter and he calls the princess by her first name. There isn’t even any small talk.

2. There’s a mention about the time frame of their established relationship and how they know each other.

3. Ahlia is happy to see him, but in a chill kind of way that means it’s either her personality or they’ve known each other for long enough that she doesn’t have to really react to his presence.

4. Despite his casual greeting, he still recognizes her influential position with his thought about not sitting down unless she did.

5. Ahlia respects him back, shown by her concern over his amount of work.

Not everything needs to be directly stated in exposition for your reader to get the idea, but a bit of exposition is required. Imagine if I’d written out an entire conversation just to convey that they’re students in a university, that she’s a princess, that they’re in a city setting, etc. That’s caused “expository dialogue”, is an easy track to cheesy-town, and is a case when “show don’t tell” can go too far for certain details. You really do need some “telling” in your exposition, but you can be creative about it and use context to keep it interesting. 

I also have this Three Signs That Mean You’re Telling, Not Showing post.

Good luck with your work!

Truth Or Dare

Author: @dylan-trash-tbh

Pairing: Stiles x Reader


A/N: I can’t believe I actually wrote something that isn’t sad. This is nothing special, just a short thing I wrote yesterday.

Thanks to my one and only Piggie 🐖💕 @golddaggers for helping me out.


Originally posted by emotionallyhighmaintainance

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It’s Okay, I Wouldn’t Remember Me Either

@pearltheartist requested:
suicidal readerx Richie with the song it’s ok I wouldn’t remember me either by crywank and he finds her by the quarry because she found out the losers club hate her and think that even she’s too much of a bitch (like me) for the losers and she tries to jump off but ends up in the hospital instead and Richie is pissed at the losers and calls them out on their bullshit and then goes and visits reader in the hospital

Pairing: Richie x Reader

Warnings: Suicide mention, swearing,

A/N: I changed the request a bit because I’m not too comfortable with the idea of writing about suicide? Also, I know that’s a Mike Wheeler GIF but I thought it fit in a way?.. YOU AREN’T A BITCH. YOU’RE THE RICHIE TO MY EDDIE AND ILY

Originally posted by saintalia

                                      I don’t want to be awake again
                           I spend my days with my head in my hands
                                        If I go outside, I’ll fall apart

Everyone looked up from what they were doing as an ambulance rocketed down the streets of Derry with its sirens blaring and its lights flashing. 

Another murder, some of the adults whispered as the vehicle turned sharply onto a different street.

It wasn’t another murder though as later the Derry citizens would find out, but a suicide attempt.

“We should go see what happened.” Beverly said, troubled, as the Losers Club listened to the fading sirens, having pulled their bikes to the sidewalk as the ambulance hurtled by.

“You want to go see?” Eddie asked, incredulous, tracing his aspirator nervously.

“What if it’s connected to the murders? What if that person got away before they got killed?” Beverly asked. 

“B-Beverly’s right. H-how many t-times have you s-seen the ambulances b-being used?” Bill stuttered worriedly. 

That was an answer enough to the Losers Club. They all mounted their bikes and began to pedal in the direction the ambulance had gone.

                                  I am mostly scared by passing time
                                The world it seems gets more unkind
                                Inevitable tragedies will soon be mine

“God, I hate hospitals.” Richie wrinkled his nose, pushing his glasses up, as they stepped inside the clean, immaculate building. 

The desk clerk stared at them suspiciously, but didn’t say anything as they walked over to the waiting area. 

“So what’s the plan?” Stan whispered, face pale.

“We wait I guess.” Mike shrugged. “We can’t go in or ask what happened unless we’re immediate family.”

So they waited. Soon enough, the doors burst open and in rushed two adults. 

“We’re here to see our daughter. She was rushed into emergency not too long ago, please.”

“The girl who tried to commit suicide?” The desk clerk questioned.

The Losers Club stared at the parents in horrified recognition as the adults nodded miserably. 

“Shit, don’t tell me that’s…” Richie trailed off, watching as the parents were escorted further into the hospital by a nurse.

“Y/N’s parents.”

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Wedding Day Jitters

14 years later since Adrien gave Marinette his malfunctioning umbrella and 12 years of holding hands and going on dates, Marinette gathered up the courage of asking Adrien to marry her. Of course, Marinette was nervous about asking him, she has always been nervous around him. Even if she was 28 and has always been around Adrien’s life for almost 15 years. She loved him, and the little girl inside of the 28-year-old is still trying to understand these emotions. 

Marinette was timid about the idea of what if Adrien wasn’t ready to get married, or if Adrien was having second thoughts about being with her for the rest of his life. It scared her. But when Alya finally pushed Marinette out of her comfort zone and got Marinette to ask Adrien, Adrien was surprised at first, but quickly said “yes” to Marinette. Marinette was relieved, she finally got the question out there. 

A year later after the wedding proposal, it was Marinette’s and Adrien’s big day. Marinette was in her bride’s room, pacing. Marinette was nervous than ever. Still terrified of the idea of Adrien severing. Anxiety washed over Marinette. Alya was in the room too, giggling at how precious her best friend was. It was obvious how stressed Marinette was. 

As Alya tries to reassure Marinette that Adrien still loves her, down the hall Adrien could hear everything that was happening while he waited for Nino to come get him. “Oh Mari, everything will be fine! Just sit down and breathe, I’ll go get you a glass of water.” Alya said as she walks out of the room and down the hall. 

Quickly, Adrien transforms himself to Chat Noir and left his room. A dark shadow, shaped as a human with cat ears forms over the bride’s room. Marinette look over to the window to see Chat Noir, excited to see him. They haven’t talked in a while after Hawkmoth realized the destruction he had caused throughout Paris and gave up on the Miraculouses. Although they don’t need to worry about Hawkmoth anymore, they would transform and meet up some times. They agreed to not reveal their true identities just in case Hawkmoth goes back on his words.  

Time to time, Chat Noir would drop by Marinette’s house, and they would some times talk the night away. Quickly they became best friends. Not even Alya knew Marinette talks to Chat Noir on a regular basis.  

“Chat!” Marinette cried out as she opens the window to let him in. Chat Noir got down on one knee and kissed Marinette’s hand. “Princess,” Chat Noir said with a smug smile and a wink.

“I thought you said you couldn’t come! Gosh, I sure am happy to see you!” Marinette exclaimed, pulling Chat Noir into a hug.

Chat Noir scratched the back of his head, “Yeah… About that, I could only come to see you for just a few minutes. I’m sorry.”

Marinette was disappointed at first but smiled because her best friend still came and got to see her in her wedding dress in person. “No, it’s perfectly fine. I just so glad to see you, Chat. I’m, just… nervous, I guess.”

“My princess, what do you have to worry about? The man you’re marrying is dashing, might I say.”

Marinette giggled, “You’re right about that. Well, I just wonder, am I good enough for him. I mean, he has always been so nice and kind. And when I get mad, I get irrational.” She sighed and slumped over the couch, “Adrien is just so wonderful, and I’m not all that great, really-”

Before she could finish, Chat Noir cuts her off. “Not that great! My princess, you’re way too lovely! If anything, Adrien doesn’t deserve you! I’m sure he thinks you’re way too out of his league.” Chat Noir proclaims. Again with the giggles, Marinette thanked Chat Noir for trying to cheer her up.

“Mari! I finally found some water for you!” Alya bellowed from down the hall. “Who are you talking to?”
Chat Noir turns to Marinette, “And with that, it’s time for me to go. You look beautiful, my princess.” 

Chat Noir kissed her cheek before jumping out the window. Alya walks in to see Marinette perfectly calm and staring at the window with a smile on her face. She placed the water on the table beside Marinette, “Is everything okay? Who were you talking to?” 

Marinette picks up the glass and takes a sip, “Just an old friend.”

Down the hall, Chat Noir detransforms back to Adrien right in time for the ceremony. “Adrien, you’re looking sharp, are you ready?” Nino asks, poking his head through the door. 

“More than ever,” Adrien responded with a smile. 

Skull & Halo // Jack Maynard

Word Count- 1250


Hey! could you do an imagine where you’re a tattoo artist and jack comes in for a tattoo and he flirts with you through the entire process and he asks you on a date?? Also could you tag me in it?? xx

A/n- this was so fun to write! and i’m back :)


You were standing in the back of the tattoo shop with your coworker Ashley.

“-and then he left. I got even more pissed off at him at that,” she rambled one.

You were only half paying attention to the fake red head next to you. Your eyes were trained on the book in front of you.

“Y/n! Are you even listening?”

You were about to answer her when the bell at the front door chimed, signaling someone had entered the parlor. You closed your book, and walked through the opening to the front of the shop.

There were two blonde men; one covered with tattoos and the other with a few small ones.

The blonde with the sleeve was looking at the book full of options as the other, more attractive one, was leaning on the counter talking to the receptionist.

“Alright,” said AJ. “Abe,” he motioned towards the guy with two full sleeves, “You can go with Y/n. And Jack with Ash.”

You smiled at Abe, but he just leaned over to the boy you assumed was Jack. Jack rolled his eyes and said, “Can I please go with Y/n?”

AJ chuckled, “Sure.”

You were slightly offended that Abe didn’t want you tattooing him, but it’s not like he’s the first to do that.

You lead Jack to a chair and starting gathering your materials.

“So, Jack, what are ya getting today?” You asked, focusing on the ink rather than his gorgeous blue eyes.

“I was thinking of a skull,” he explained. “Right here.”

Your eyes followed his pointer finger that was pointing at his left forearm.

You two sat in a comfortable silence as you gathered your materials.

You began to wipe of his arm, “So,” you started.


“I gotta ask, sorry.”

“Continue.” He raised an eyebrow at you, his beautiful blue orbs staring at you.

“Why didn’t Abe want me tattooing him?”

Jack looked over at Abe, you was currently getting his chest shaved.

He sighed, “He assumed you didn’t have practice because you have no tattoos.”

You looked over at Ashley, her entire right arm was covered, along with another tattoo here and there on her body.

You had been tattooing two years longer than she, but Ashley is always getting new additions. You enjoyed making them rather than getting them.

“I would like to add that I don’t think that,” he smiled at you. “I’m sure you make badass tattoos.”

You stood up and grabbed a pair of gloves, “Who’s to say I don’t have tattoos?”

He gave you a curious look.

You smirked, grabbing the gun.

“Please elaborate,” he flashed you that gorgeous smirk. If he kept it up, you might actually die.

“I have a few…” you said. “You just can’t see them.”

He scoffed, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Smooth,” you giggled, causing him to laugh too.

“But seriously, what tattoos do you have?”

You pressed the needle to his skin. He didn’t even notice, all of his attention was on your eyes.

“I have four,” you said simply.

“And what are they?” He continued.

“I have a sock on my ankle,” you said as he leaned over the edge of the chair to look. “It represents freedom. You probably don’t get the reference.” You let out a nervous chuckle.

“Of course I do. I’m not an uncultured bloke ya know?” He laughed. “What else?”

Your focus stayed on his arm, “I have a star on my shoulder. My sister has one identical to it.”

He looked at you, motioning for you to continue.

“And I have a quote on my hip.” You added.

“That’s only three,” he said, and your breath caught in your throat.

Jack noticed your muscles tense and the guilt started to rise. You grip on the gun tightened as your focus remained on his half-finished tattoo.

“Look, Y/n, I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. You don’t have to tell me.”

“No it’s alright. Uh,” you grabbed the gun and started to shade part of his tattoo. “It’s my mom’s last heartbeat. It’s on my other ankle.”

Jack was mentally slapping himself. How could he be so bloody stupid? He should’ve quit while ahead.

“Listen, Y/n,” he started.

“No seriously Jack. It’s okay.” You gave him a small smile.

“Tell me about yours,” you added.

And he did.

He told you about the cross on his back.

And the God has a plan on his rib cage.

And the odd symbol on his right wrist which he admitted to getting while drunk and ‘I honestly have no idea what the fuck it is’. He found out about a week later that it’s the Egyptian symbol for life.

And how he got his birthday in Roman numerals.

“Alright,” you said, adding the final touch. “Here it is!”

He looked at it and frowned. Your heart sunk. It wasn’t what he wanted. You had just ruined someone’s life.

“What’s wrong?” You hesitated.

“Uh, nothing.” He shook his head. “I just feel like it’s missing something.”

You frowned as well.

“Okay, well let’s think,” you spun around in your chair and Jack laughed.

“What?” You smiled.

“You’re cute, that’s all,” he said, cheeks getting red.

“Oh thanks,” you were flustered. “So, why’d you get the skull?”

“To remind me that death is inevitable, and that I should go on tons of adventures so I don’t regret anything.”

You pondered, thinking of the perfect thing to add.

Suddenly it hit you, and you smirked at him.

“Do you trust me?” You asked.

“What do you mean?” He asked, eyebrows knitting together.

“Do you trust me enough to add something?”

“Well what is it?”

“It’s a surprise,” you smiled.

He hesitated, “I swear to god if it’s a dick, I’m going to sue you.”

You chuckled, “I wouldn’t do that.”

He sighed, “Okay. Just make it look nice.”

You scoffed and grabbed the gun once again.


After about fifteen minutes you revealed your addition.

It was a halo.

“Oh my god I love it,” he smiled. “How’d you think of it?”

“It’s to remind you that there’s always someone with you on the journeys to take,” you smiled. “You’re never alone.”

He smiled once again.

After you gave him the speech on keeping it clean, you walked him to the front.

You rung up his total at the register, “I’m not charging you for the halo.”

“What?” He said. “Why not?”

“Because it was my idea. Not yours,” you smiled, handing him his receipt.

Abe was standing by the door waiting for Jack.

“Thanks again,” he smiled. He turned and followed his friend outside. You watched him through the faint glass window as he walked down the sidewalk and out of view.

You turned and sighed as you began to pick up your station.

Never going to see him again. Should’ve asked for his number you idiot.

You thought to yourself as you disposed of the used needle.

The door chimed.

“Would he it be possible if I could get your number?” You heard the familiar accent.

You turned and saw Jack standing at the counter.

You smiled.

“Is really like to take you on a proper date.”

“Proper? Are you saying what we had today was a date?” You asked.

“It is if you want it to be,” he smirked.

You wrote down your number and handed it to him.

He gave you a toothy smile and left the tattoo parlor once again.

Title: Fallen Angel, Chapter 1: Old Friends Reunite

Fandom: Markiplier (Who Killed Markiplier)

Pairing: Hinted Damien x Fem!Reader [which will probably be explored in greater detail later]

Word count: 4, 304

Tagging: @markired – just thought you might like to see it!!

A/N: If there’s any fics you’d like me to write, or headcanons you’d like me to write, let me know! I’m looking to practice writing more!


Your hand went over your mouth, but not before you turned and vomited, adjacent to Mark, falling to your knees. You couldn’t even scream—all you could do was tremble. Footsteps echoed from the hallway outside, near where you had just come through, and you heard the detective. “Did anyone hear that lightning? Oh, my God! There’s been a murder!” As soon as he said the word ‘murder,’ however, another thunderclap echoed outside, a bright flash of lightning illuminating the window. You were still on your knees, a hand over your mouth.

Damien… where are you?

Originally posted by superlamesenpai

Keep reading

The Night We Met

Dean x Reader

Summary:  A bar, two strangers, the beginning of something new…

Warnings:  Mention of suicide, angst.

Theme Song: The Night We Met - Cover by The Running Mates

Word Count: 1200+

The ice cubes were melting into your empty glass, the second of the night; a dull sight to many, but boredom was the last thing on your mind. So you kept staring at their inevitable doom, happening right there within your hand. A song was playing in the background, but you could barely hear it, too focused on the past, on a memory that kept replaying itself. A sweater in your hand - a smile - a door closing.

“Tough night?”

His voice came from nowhere, pausing the past, but you didn’t move, not even glanced his way.

After some time, you replied. “Yeah…”

“I’ve had a few of those,” he said. And then, “It gets better.”

Keep reading

Touching You (11/17)

Bucky x Reader
You meet Bucky in a club and things progress. After a one night stand, and he shows up at your work the next day, you find yourselves spending more time together. Feelings are confessed and you’re seeing where things go when something happens at work and Bucky overeacts making you question if he’s hiding something from you so you get together with your girlfriends and have a girls’ night in with a surprise ending.
WC: 1808
Warnings Swearing, alcohol, reader gets drunk, mentions of castration (just threatening of an ex boyfriend)
AN This is a series I started thanks to an idea @melconnor2007 helped me come up with. Not sure how long it’s going to be as it’s a WIP.  18+ only
Also, I suck at summaries. Sorry Tags are open (I’m tagging my usual people but let me know if you want off)

When you returned to work after lunch, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off with what Bucky was telling you. You had a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach and you couldn’t place it but you knew you needed some time apart from him to sort things out.

You pulled up the group text and fired off a message.

You: Hey, you guys free tonight?

Natasha: What did he do and where can I find him? I will end him!

You: CHILL. Nothing happened. I just miss your fugly faces. Come by my place?

Wanda: No. Ew. Your place probably smells like sex. And man sweat. Come here instead. My place is smells like brownies.

Natasha: Brownies trump man sweat. I’ll pick up dinner, Y//N, you bring the wine.

You: 😀

You could always count on your girls.

You texted Bucky to let him know that you wouldn’t be seeing each other that night and he seemed disappointed. You knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your unease from ruining the time spent together plus you didn’t want him asking what was wrong when you didn’t know what was wrong. You told him you’d text him when you got home and that seemed to put his mind at ease.

Keep reading

“When I returned to Ted, he held a letter against the glass that he had written to me and Jim, thanking us for our representation. "I hope you liked me.” it said. “I hope this wasn’t just an unpleasant legal chore for you.” His note ended with, “I feel close to you now.” Because he was not permitted to pass anything to us at the time, the letter eventually went to Diana - along with his remains. 

At nine o'clock I rose to leave. To my amazement, I was propelled against the glass to kiss and hug Ted, as best we could. I didn’t know how I got there; it was a force from within, beyond my control. I left him alone with Diana for a final good-bye and walked out the door. I burst into tears and was surrounded by the waiting arms of Sergeant Cronoauer. I hadn’t cried in years. Ted’s aloneness, the final cruelty of not allowing him a personal visit with Diana, his closest friend, and the utter finality of our meeting welled up in me like a fireball and burst. I sobbed like never, ever before. When Diana came out, we cried together.“ - Ted and Polly’s last meeting on January 23, 1989.

A Perfect Encounter - Part 1

Bucky Barnes x Reader AU!

Summary: sometimes, being at the wrong place at the right time means that your life can change.  

A/N: “I´ll tell you my name if you can find me again” is my prompt to celebrate that @just-some-drabbles has hit 4k followers. Congratulations! I have already written to you toooo many times to tell you about your awesome work and writing skills, so you deserve them and more :) 

Tags: @supersoldierslover @barnesandnoble13 @amrita31199

Originally posted by winter-barnes

(Credits to the owner of the gif)

“I come back from work now, and the house is filled with strangers that Tyler has accepted. All of them working. The whole first floor turns into a kitchen and a soap factory. The bathroom is never empty.” 

Keep reading

Who Do You Love More?

Pairing: Archie Andrews x Reader

Requested: Yes

Warnings: Cursing, Long AF, pretty shitty

Request: Can I have a Archie Andrews imagine asap? Where the reader is his ex and she comes back to riverdale after the summer and is best friend with b, v, and jug and arch still likes her and she still likes him. Anyway she finds out that he is with ms grundy and she says he need to figure out what he is doing with his life. You can figure out how it ends thanks xx

Part 2

Keep reading

“That's my girl”// Jack Maynard Imagine

Warnings: N/a

Word count: 825

Requested: no || Request are open

A/n: I have a lot of Jack Imagines on the way, I hope you dont mind! And for those of you who have requested imagines, they will be coming ! Love you guys !


I walked into my flat building and walked into the elevator. I clicked the floor and walked down the hall to my flat. I heard from inside 3 voices I recognized. I smiled and unlocked the door. I looked to see there were balloons scattered around the flat and my boyfriend Jack, his brother Conor -and our friend Joe on the couch.  I laughed and put my stuff by the door.

 "Hiii,“ The boys yelled simultaneously in high pitched helium-fueled voices. I smiled. "Hey guys,” I smiled. “Come hereeee,” Jack said. “Hold on let me go take my contacts out,” I said. I walked into our room and changed out of my work clothes into leggings and a loose t-shirt. I walked to the bathroom, took out my contacts and wiped off my makeup. I then threw my hair up after putting my glasses on. (Glasses that are round and clear-ish frames and are too big for face)

 I walked back into the living room to see the boys taking a break from filming. Jack looked up at me and took a picture of me for his Snapchat. “Let me see ittt,” I said walking over to them. He showed it to me and I looked at it the caption reading ‘she is so beautiful 😍’  My face turned red. “Aww,” Joe teased. I gave him a dirty look playfully.  I laughed and laid across the boys. My feet were on Joe’s lap and my head on Conor’s lap. “Hey Con,” I smiled. I had always had a good relationship with Conor. He was my best friend. “Heyyy,” he said. “Hey no fair my turn,” Jack whined. I laughed sitting up so I was sitting on his lap and my legs were still on Joe’s. I looked to see that Joe was playing with the balloon.

 "Do you think if I stick this up my nose and blow helium into it, it would have the same effect as blowing it into your mouth?“ He asked. I laughed and shook my head. "Try it,” Jack laughed. Joe tried to put the balloon up his nose and we were all laughing. It didn’t end up working but we all laughed about it. Jack wrapped his arms around me and kissed my cheek. I turned my head and quickly pecked his lips. “Ew,” Conor said. I smiled and kissed Jack again. “Can we finish filming? I’m so hungryyyy,” Joe complained. “Sorry Suggy,” I apologized, taking my legs off him and patting his head. He gave me a dirty look which made me laugh. I went to stand up but Jack held on to my waist. “I love you,” he said kissing my lips. “I love you too,” I smiled standing up. 

I walked into the kitchen and decided to order the boys pizza. I grabbed my laptop and sat on the floor across the room from the boys. I watched them for second and Jack made eye contact and winked at me. I smiled like an idiot and rolled my eyes playfully. I opened my laptop and worked on stuff that needed to be done for work. “I don’t fuck with you!” Joe sang. Jack and Conor both sang the next words but Jack got it first. Their laughs were contagious. I closed my laptop, not being able to work with all the noise. However, I didn’t mind one bit. I watched them as they played around with the balloons.

 "I can’t see why people look at me and only see the color of my face mm mm,“ Conor sang. I recognized the song immediately and smiled. Joe and Jack looked confused. "Is that from like Hairspray or something?” Jack asked. “Yeah I love that film,” Conor said laughing making Joe laugh. “The only reason I knew that is because Y/n love that film so much. It’s like an obsession,” he said. I shrugged. “I can’t help it. It’s just so good.” Jack laughed and did his outro. He turned the camera off and didn’t bother cleaning up his mess. 

There was a knock on the door. “I got it,” I said. I stood up and I opened the door and the pizza guy stood there. He looked at me, “That will be £16” I smiled slightly and walked back to my purse grabbing money. I heard a whistle come from the door. I turned around giving the guy a dirty look. “You must be wearing space pants because damn your ass is out of this league,” he said. 

Jack stood up, walking towards him. “Excuse me?” Jack said. “Actually their fucking baseball pants cause my ass is out of your league,” I said throwing the money at him. I grabbed the pizza and slammed the door. Joe and Conor were laughing their asses off. I looked at Jack to see he had a satisfied smile on his face. “That’s my girl,” he said pulling me into his arms.

The Silent Treatment- Soonyoung (Hoshi) Fluff/Angst

Originally posted by kwontv

Request: Hey there! I see you want requests and I’m here for one ewe I hope you can make an angst but at the end very fluffy scenario with Hoshi where you two have a fight and start no talking to each other? I know im not being specific, don’t hate me ;n; You’re the best♡

Word Count:1135

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Member/Group: Soonyoung (Hoshi) of SEVENTEEN

Summary: Every couple fights, some just choose to handle it in a more childish way than others.

A/N: Hey ya’ll! I have a few drafts that I am beginning to work on, so expect some future works for BTS. Anyway, Hope you all enjoy this a bunch! xx

 It all started with a simple fight, really. When Soonyoung had left that morning, he had asked you to clean a shirt that he needed for a company dinner that night, and you being the forgetful person you were, had completely forgotten saying ‘yes’ in a sleepy haze. Obviously, you had not put the shirt in the washer before you had left to go to University, so you arrived home to a fuming and frantic Soonyoung hurriedly trying to use his blowdryer to get the shirt mildly dry before he had to rush out the door to meet with the CEO. No words had been exchanged between you, only somber gazes you sent his way as he sighed and shook his head. Before you even knew what was happening, you were yelling and dropping your bag on the ground as you stomped to your room and flopped onto the bed.

 “It’s not my fault, Soonyoung! You know I can’t remember things when I am given instructions at 6 o’clock in the morning! Maybe you should have texted me like a responsible adult would!” Your words, though filled with emotions, fell on deaf ears.

Keep reading

Hope You Heard

Let Me Have Your Heart: One Shot Series - #38

(Send In Requests)

(Past One Shots)


Harry and you had been friends for quite a while. The friendship just continued at his first of many trips to the cafe you worked part time at, ordering the same Apple Crumble each and every single time he visited. 

Although he had learned his lesson, he’d never eat as many slices of Apple Crumble as he did the first day he met you, and he learned he didn’t have to occupy himself with a slice of dessert to get your attention and converse with you, because you validly enjoyed his company.

Him visiting the small cafe, at the end of the street a couple blocks down from his mum’s house, became routine. 

Every morning, at the beginning of your shift, early in the morning, he’d walk over, and order his usual, which you already remembered by heart, and you’d take a seat with him a chat over whatever you two felt like chatting about that particular morning when the cafe wasn’t busy and bustling as it usually was.

Harry was in the middle of chopping up some vegetables for his chicken dinner when he heard his phone ringing. He placed the knife down, quickly wiping his hands on his apron that adorned his body and walked over to the other end of the kitchen where his phone was laid. 

A smile was brought up to his face when your name and a picture, you never knew he took, of you on his display screen. He picked up his phone, pressing the accept button and placing the phone up to his ear.

“Hey love, what’s going on.” he questioned over the phone, with a smile on his face. 

There was a moment of silence before the phone sounded like it was being thrown around and giggles were heard through the phone. There was some rustling before he heard you hiccup over the phone. 

“’arry? This you?” he heard you lazily question, clearly alcohol induced. “Indeed it is, you alright love?” he chuckled. You giggled and it sounded like you threw yourself down on a couch as you let out a huff. “I miss you” you slurred with a giggle. 

“I miss you and i’m sad you’re not here” you elongated. He smiled to himself. He had missed you too. With everything going on in his life, he wished that there had been more time that he could freely spend with you, but work seemed to always be his priority. “I miss you too, you enjoying yourself? You sound like you’re having fun” he chuckled, walking back to the vegetables and putting the phone on speaker and continuing to cook. “I am, I guess” she sighed tiredly over the phone. “I wish you’d be here, I don’t like these other guys trying to touch me and trying to dance with me” she whined and mumbled over the phone.

Harry dropped his knife and for some reason, a sense of jealousy and fear coursed through his veins. Were these men trying to do something with you they shouldn’t be doing? Were you aware enough of what was going on? “Do you want me to pick you up, love?” The phone rustled again and the sound of wind could be heard. “Please” you sighed against the phone, a bit of a shutter coming from your lips. “I’m at the pub on Wolff Street” you slurred out. He nodded, wiping his hands and throwing his apron off. “Alright just stay there, love. Okay? Don’t go off and walk away and don’t go with anyone you don’t know, understood?” he stated, grabbing his keys and coat. You let out a quiet “mhm” before he hung up the phone and got into his car, driving off to where you were located.

He pulled up to the curb, noticing you sitting against the red brick pub, snuggled up in your jacket and a short black dress with your eyes closed. He stepped out his car and walked over to you, squatting down to eye level with you. He gently tapped your shoulder as you opened your eyes and smiled. “You came for me” you slurred with a sloppy smile. “Always love, that’s what friends are for.” 


He wished he didn’t have to use that term. It was a term he wish he could have dropped months ago, and he tried, but it just was never the right time. Either it was too early, or you had just entered into a new relationship, so he couldn’t ruin your happiness when he saw that smile on your face every time you’d mention the other man’s name. It was either that, or you had been heart broken from a previous guy and he just didn’t have the nerve to tell you such a big thing when you were in time of crisis.

He gently grabbed your hand, helping you up, before supporting you into his passenger seat of the car and closing the door behind you. He stepped into the passenger seat and looked at you and heard your shivering. “Jesus babe, you need to learn to bring more layers. You know how this weather could get” he chuckled, blasting up the heat and putting your hands into his and blowing into them to give you some warmth. 

He looked into your glazed over eyes and you smiled at him. “You have really pretty eyes, Styles” you smiled, barely blinking. He quietly chuckled, putting his head down as he blushed a little before pressing a quick kiss to your knuckles before putting his seat belt on. “Alright, off to your place” he started. You shook your head. “Can I come to yours? I don’t like being alone after I get drunk. Makes me feel paranoid and what not” you sheepishly explained. He smiled, giving your thigh a gentle rub and nodding. “No worries, I was cooking up dinner as well, and I have enough for two. So you got it” he smiled.

The car ride was silent, just the sounds of other cars passing by you as he took his time to drive back to his place. Pulling into his driveway and putting the car into park he looked over at you and saw you dozed off. He smiled before turning off the car and going to your side of the car and picking you up bridal style.

You stirred awake and placed your head on his shoulder. “‘M sorry for’ falling ‘asleep” you murmured. He chuckled, shaking his head, unlocking the front door. “No worries, you want to hop into my shower? You smell a little like vodka and sick” he chuckled. You nodded, asking to be put down before slowly walking to the bathroom, placing a palm on your forehead before closing the bathroom door.

Harry smiled to himself, shaking his head before walking back to the kitchen to continue and finish off dinner. It was times like these where he wished you were both in a relationship so he could hop in the shower with you and help you wash the sick out of your hair, but he knew, friends didn’t do that.

He was taking out two glasses and two plates when he heard a loud thump coming from down the hall and a sudden ‘ouch’ being heard from the bathroom. His eyes went wide, quickly putting down the plates and rushing over to the bathroom. His first instinct was to come barging in, but he knew that maybe you wouldn’t like that, so he opted for a knock on the door. “Love, are you alright?’ he’d question, a sense of urgency in his phone. He heard you giggle before the water was shut off and he heard clattering before you opened the door, a towel covering your front. “I think i ‘tell’” you giggled, leaning forward, resting your wet forehead on his chest. “Mm, you smell good.” you smiled. He chuckled before helping you tighten the towel around you and trying his best not to take a peek at what was underneath the towel, but he controlled himself because the amount of respect he had for you, he had for no one else, but no one really knew that. “Come on. I’ll go find something in my room that you can throw on” he nodded, up the stairs as you both walked to his room and you picked out a long tee and some of his black boxers before laying in his bed. “You hungry? I prepped some dinner if you’re interested” your glazed over eyes, widened as you licked your lips and smiled. “I’ll take that as a yes” he chuckled. “Stay here, i’ll bring it up for you” he smiled.

It was a few minutes until he came baring up the stairs with two trays, one for you and one for him. He opted for just water, since you had had enough alcohol for the night. “Here you are” he gestured, handing you your plate of food with water and some advil on the side. “That’s for after dinner and before bed, so you don’t feel as yucky tomorrow” he smiled, sitting beside you and divulging into his dinner and turning on the telly to try and find something to watch and pass the time, and you both settled on Friends.

He cleaned up all the dishes as you settle yourself on the right side of his bed. He made sure all the locks were locked downstairs and that all the lights were off before making his way up to the bedroom. He stripped down to his boxers, also knowing it’s something he shouldn’t do with his friend right in his bed, but he figured she was tired and so was he, maybe it wouldn’t be that big of a deal.

He noticed her eyes go wide and for a moment, panic shot through his veins waiting for you to say something, but you said nothing. All you did was admire his body, as he made his way over to the bed with pink tinted cheeks and settling under the covers.

It was a few moments after he turned off the bed light lamp that he felt you shift in the bed and snuggle close to him. He tensed at first, but relaxed after a moment of your head snuggling into his chest. “Thank you for picking’ me up today, and making me ‘inner and treating me like a princess” you hummed tiredly, almost asleep but still slightly awake, and still aware of your surroundings.

He smiled, gently stroking your hair. “No worries love, anytime.” he sighed contently before hearing your soft little snores after.

It was at that moment where he really felt like his feelings for you were becoming deeper. With just a hint of light coming from outside, through the curtains due to the lamp light on the street he saw your fresh and soft features. No makeup, nothing foreign on your face, just your soft and supple cheeks and soft skin being caressed by the street light outside. He smiled, heart skipping a beat as he stroked your hair gently.

“I don’t think you’ll ever know this, but I think i’m falling in love with you” he whispered to you. Maybe more so to himself, and a little tiny part of him, hoped you had somehow heard.


Hello my friends! I know this isn’t a long one, but i figured i’d try and shoot for one tonight! I’m a bit tired, so i’ll be on for a little while longer! Let me know what you guys thought if you’d like and i really hope you enjoyed it!