street lift

bitty is the type of drunk to refuse to leave a party if “his jam” is playing. (at that point in the evening, every song is “his jam” lbr). it is not uncommon to see any member of the smh physically carrying him out of a party.

ransom prefers a fireman carry. shitty goes for the over-the-shoulder sack-of-taters style. holster thinks it’s funny to just scoop him up under his arms and carry him out like a mama cat and her kitten. 

lardo even tries, once. she gets him ‘round the middle and waddles halfway down the street before bits is lifted from her arms and over jack’s shoulder. “can’t have our favorite manager getting squashed,” he says simply. 

bitty doesn’t even fight it anymore. he just sighs and starts chatting about practice that morning, occasionally chirping whomever about needing to spend more time in the weight room.

(Modern Day) Khal Drogo x Reader...

IMAGINE….being new to town and your first impression of Drogo, “Khal”/President of the local motorcycle club known as the Dothraki.

((I may have….got too into this…I’m not sorry haha))

y/f/s – your favorite soda/pop/they’re called something different in England aren’t they? Or am I thinking of somewhere else?

 y/l/n - your last name

You were filling up the gas tank to your vehicle when the unmistakable rumble of motorcycles could be heard coming down the street. Lifting your hand to shade your eyes, you looked left and right and then left again just in time to see two dozen, if not more, bikes of different makes and models come speeding around the corner. Your breath caught, your eyes lighting up with curiosity, when you realized they were coming to the gas station, but your gaze was on the man in the front of the progression.

He was wearing leather from head to toe. His boots, his pants, and the sleeveless vest…all leather. He had bracelets on his wrists that you immediately wanted to know the use/story of. You had always liked long hair, and his was pulled up into a “man bun.” His legs were long and the tightness of the leather jeans showered the power in them. He was just…a very attractive and muscular man.

As the mc progression came to a stop, you quickly averted your gaze and tried to hide your blush as you finished pumping and put the nozzle back. You screwed the cap back on and closed the little “hood” to the gas tank before grabbing your bag from off the passenger seat and heading inside to pay.

There were two people already in line to pay so you moved to the back of the small room and grabbed a bottle of y/f/s and a candy bar before moving toward the cash register.

The girl behind the counter was a teenager, probably about sixteen, and seemed to find her nails were interesting than the money behind handed to her. She handled the transaction with the two people in front of you – an elderly man and a woman in her late thirties or early forties – all the while loudly, and obnoxiously, popping a piece of chewing gum.

Finally, it was your turn and you stepped up to the counter handing over a twenty and telling the girl which pump you had used. It wasn’t until you had finished speaking that you realized she wasn’t paying any attention. Huffing in annoyance, you turned your head to see what she was looking at just in time to see the biker man you had been checking out minutes earlier open the door and step inside under the soft jingle of the bell on top of the door.

“Hey Drogo,” the teen smirked and popped the gum once more. “We have those smokes you like,” she pointed out, sounding proud of herself.

Drogo was staring at you, a raised brow of curiosity on his face, as he replied to the teen with only a fleeting look and a, “Good. I’ll come in and get some once your brother comes in.”

The girl seemed to deflate some, a scowl pulling onto her face. “I can sell them to you,”

“You’re seventeen, last time I checked, girl. I’m not getting anyone in trouble.” The biker chuckled and you felt your stomach flutter. It was deep and low and so hot. “And who are you?” he was talking to you now, and you barely managed to find a voice.

“Y/n…my name is Y/n…Y/l/n. I’m new to town.” You tore your gaze away and once more handed the money to the teen and told her which pump you had used.

This time she did the transaction and then turned away, grabbing her cell from off the counter behind her.

“Y/n Y/ln. I’ll have to keep an eye out for you.” Drogo murmured, stepping closer to you as you went to move for the door.

You nodded, swallowing was difficult, “Alright. You do that.” And you practically ran for the exit.

His chuckle was the last thing you heard from him.

How do I know if I have too much exposition?

ex·po·si·tionˌekspəˈziSH(ə)n/ (noun)

a comprehensive description and explanation of an idea or theory

As a basic rule of thumb: if your exposition distracts from the main narrative, then it’s too much.

That sounds a lot simpler than it actually is, though, doesn’t it? Because it’s difficult to tell when we’ve pulled the reader’s attention away and when we haven’t within our own work.

That’s why beta-readers are so helpful because getting a fresh eye can do wonders for helping see things in our work that we’re too close to notice. A good beta-reader (or two or seven) is an invaluable tool for a writer. Find a few friends or family whose opinion you trust and listen to them when they have feedback on your work. Their word isn’t gold–you don’t have to make every change they suggest–but it is still important for your development. 

But that’s not really the issue, right? This post is about what you can do to help your own work improve!

First, if you’re fretting over this and you have not written your novel yet…then stop reading this post and go write your book! In your first draft, you should write all the words. (Maybe not all, but lots.) It’s okay to write four pages of exposition in the middle of scene in your first draft because in this version, you’re just telling yourself this story. You’re organizing notes, thoughts, outlines, etc. into a narrative. It won’t be perfect, and that’s great. You can’t move onto the next stage of book-making until you’ve got a first draft, so through caution to the wind and write!

This post is mostly for those of you who have finished work and are going over it prepared to edit, rewrite, scramble it up, and starting making that mess-of-a-first draft into a finished, wonderful product.

So…it’s time to edit your book

Zoom in on a section of exposition and take every fact you’ve written about and ask: 

Does this advance the plot? Do we come to a deeper understanding of a main character because of this? 

If the answer to both of those is no, then cut it (in this draft. Don’t worry. You still have those words written in previous drafts!) Do this as you read through for any section of exposition you find.

Then, when you’ve shaved off the irrelevant bits, start asking yourself: Is there a more subtle way to weave this into the action or dialogue of the narrative? If no, but it’s still important, then leave it. If yes, then try to do some rewriting where you have these cultural tidbits revealed in the actions and speech of your characters.

For example:

Allendra was from the southern tribes. Their main diet consisted of crop, food produced from the land. Wildlife beyond the occasional crow or squirrel was rare, so the southern tribe had come to view their abundant crops as a gift from the gods. They were vegetarians as a matter of, not only happenstance, but religion. That religion had been instilled in her by her parents, primarily her mother, and even though she’d left her homeland and was wandering new, unfamiliar territories for the sake of her own people, her mother’s hypothetical approval still drove Allendra’s actions. When presented with meat, Allendra did not know what to do. She was out of her league here, in this strange culture. And she didn’t know how to turn away the offer without being rude.


“Street vendors?” Allendra said, lifting a brow. “But they’re all selling…bloody things.”

Randa laughed. “Oh, Ally, don’t betray yourself as such an alien. That’s meat! Everyone around here eats it. It’s good for you.”

“I haven’t…I don’t eat…It’s just…” Allendra stumbled over her words. She didn’t want to be rude. Her mother would slap the back of her head if she was rude to this new hostess. And yet…what would mother say if Allendra waltzed up to this vendor and took a bite of the meat? Allendra shuddered to think.

The gods wouldn’t be too thrilled, either, but it was the image of mother’s disappointed face that made Allendra turn away from the street vendors and keep walking. Homesickness filled her gut. “Sorry, Randa. I just can’t.”

See you can do to make cultural facts fit into the story or character development. Here are some ways to think about that, as you attempt to change flat exposition into engaging storytelling:

Could this worldbuilding exposition be used to:

  • Invoke an emotion in a character?
  • Create conflict between characters?
  • Create conflict within a character?
  • Add tension to the main plot?
  • Add tension to an important subplot?
  • Create a funny or awkward situation?
  • Motivate a character’s actions?
  • Prevent a character from taking necessary action?

Basically, ask yourself this main question: How can I show the importance of this cultural element, rather than telling the reader how important or relevant it is?

Sometimes, exposition is needed. It’s not evil and it has a lot of power to get bullet points of information to your reader quickly. However, you–the writer–always need to make sure you’re letting exposition have power by using it sparingly. There are always multiple options on how to present information to your reader. It’s your duty to make sure you consider them all and use the one that best fits your narrative.

And now that you’ve finished this draft of editing and rewriting, set your novel aside for a while. A week, a month, a year…whatever you need. Come back to it later with a fresher perspective and see how your edits fit together. If you find that some of the exposition that you cut needs to be put back, then you can always do that. You can see the flow better, and do more editing to help your new rewrites fit effortlessly into the narrative. You are the writer. YOU HAVE THE POWER.

Happy building!


Since I accidentally started this whole “Anti with glasses” thing, I decided I would write a little something about it. Also, this is based off of something @markired sent me and I guess there’s some Danti implied in here? Take it as you will, whether that’s platonic or romantic. 

Also, it’s past 2am here. I tried and I’m an amateur writer.

Anyway, Enjoy! x

Anti needs glasses.

Just like Jack, he needs a pair to see things in the distance. However, his eyesight is worse. That being said, he needs a pair that is stronger than the ones Jack already has and needs to get himself his own pair. He doesn’t like it – oh, he hates having to wear glasses, but contacts drive him up the damn walls so they are out of the question. He thinks they make him look nerdy and less intimidating.

No one except Anti knows that he needs them. He acts like he can see the world crystal clear when in reality, he can hardly see the street signs. It isn’t exactly a good thing when it comes to executing kills because his precision is off and he often misses his shots. This in turn frustrates Dark because he hired the guy to do the dirty work and he’s missing the target – what the fuck?

After nearly losing a seventh victim that month, Dark finally approaches Anti about it.

“Anti, the execution of your kills hasn’t been… extraordinary lately. Is there a reason for that?”

“No,” Anti grumbles, crossing his arms along his chest, “n’ quit questionin’ my killing methods. You won’t even do the kills yerself so don’t be complainin’.”

Anti proceeds to plop himself down on their couch, flipping himself so he’s upside down. His feet hang off the top and his head is hanging off the seat, watching his hair fall back and dangle in the open. It’s evident that he doesn’t want to talk about the subject any further.

But since when does Dark ever really care about Anti’s childish denial?

A deep hum vibrates through Dark’s chest as he scrutinises the green-haired male, completely disregarding his attempt at an insult. Anti, who’s fully aware he’s being watched, lifts his head to lock eyes with Dark. He squints them dangerously.

“The fuck are ye lookin’ at?” he spits out.

“You need glasses, don’t you?” Dark suddenly says, straightening his posture and canting his head to the side, “that’s why you’re having trouble executing kills properly and squinting at everything. You can’t see properly.”

“I can see fine!” Anti barks, pushing himself back up onto the couch and propping himself up with his elbows. His slightly sharper teeth become more evident as he scowls at Dark.

“Oh, is that so? In that case, I suppose you won’t have any trouble telling me what that sign across the street says?” Dark lifts a brow as he points out the window at a little yellow sign with bold black letters on it.

Anti looks over his shoulder at the sign and almost visibly pales. There’s no way he can read that. It’s just far enough for the letters to be too blurry to read. They just look like a black cloud on a yellow sign.

“I don’t need to prove myself to an old man,” Anti sneers, huffing and sliding off the couch. Before Dark can bring up the subject again, the green-haired male storms off into another room somewhere in the house, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Idiot,” Dark sighs, deciding to let the topic go for the time being.

A week passes by after that and yet another nearly failed kill. Dark didn’t get frustrated this time because he now knows the source of the problem, he just has to find out how to fix it. Even though he finds it absolutely ridiculous to have to chase after Anti for being a big baby who’s in complete denial, if it will help his case then he is more than willing.

That, and teasing Anti is just so much fun.

“Is it because you don’t like glasses? There are certainly contacts out there that you could use,” Dark suddenly inquires over dinner one night.

Anti freezes in his movements and peers up at his friend, a look of annoyance on his face. He grits his teeth and gives Dark the silent treatment.

“Even so, anything is better than being partially blind, don’t you think?” the other continues, slowly enjoying his meal as though his friend’s annoyance was nothing but a speck of dust on his shoulder for him to brush off.

There’s a moment of silence between the two. The only sound in the entire room is that of their utensils against their plates. Anti stops eating for a minute and simply sits there, picking at the meat in front of him.

“Don’t be stupid, Dark, I can’t wear glasses. I’m not a nerd,” Anti scoffs, eyes stuck to his plate, “n’ fuck contacts, those little shits are annoying as all fuck.”

Dark doesn’t say anything after that but instead just lifts his eyes to look at the man sitting across from him at the table. He almost wants to laugh at Anti’s comment but refrains from doing so. His mind is at work throughout the rest of the meal.

After that night, Dark eventually goes through the torturous process of discovering Anti’s prescription. It takes almost a full week before he gets the results but when he does, he feels more victorious than he has in quite some time.

And he decides to get Anti some glasses.

Dark is seated in his favorite chair one evening, relaxing while enjoying a good book. However, he’s having trouble concentrating on the letters in front of him. A disheartened sigh escapes his lips at the realisation that he won’t be able to continue.

Suddenly, a familiar voice makes its way through the once silent hallway.

DARK, WHAT THE FUCK ARE THESE!?” Anti hollers from his bedroom. Dark can’t help the smug grin that spreads across his lips.

“They’re glasses, Anti. Try them on,” Dark urges, his tone calm compared to the other.

There’s a series of quick footsteps that grow louder as Anti approaches. Dark turns his head towards the open doorway to see Anti storming in, eyes practically glowing with annoyance.

I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU THAT I DIDN’T WANT ‘EM. I LOOK LIKE A FUCKIN’ NERD, DARK!” He yells, the pair of black glasses in his hand. His other is balled into a fist, practically drawing blood from how tightly it’s closed. “DON’T YOU LISTEN TO ME!?

In a fit of childish annoyance, Anti lifts his hand with the glasses held tightly between his fingers. In the split second it takes for Dark to realise what’s about to happen, Anti’s hand comes toward the ground in full force.

Dark has never moved so fast in his life. It’s as though he’s a shadow, glitching from his spot in the chair to Anti’s side. Dark’s large hand grips Anti’s wrist tightly, preventing him from throwing the glasses onto the ground and breaking them. His nearly black eyes seem to flash red for a moment.

YoU wiLL nOt breAK tHeSE, unDersTOoD?”

Dark’s voice is deep, harsh and slicing. Like the biting cold of winter, it nips at Anti’s childish conscience and fills him with fear. His hot breath tickles Anti’s ear and he shivers, eyes widening in realisation at what he was about to do and how pissed Dark is now. The hold on Anti’s wrist is bone crushing and the green-haired male grits his teeth.

Dark slowly releases Anti’s wrist and brings his hand back to his side. After taking in a slow breath, he looks Anti in the eyes with an expressionless face.

“Now, try them on,” he tries again, his voice much softer than before.

Anti is still hesitant and it shows. He glances down at the glasses in his hand with an expression of disgust. Dark rolls his eyes – he’s losing his patience.

“Anti, wearing glasses does not make you a nerd,” Dark says deeply, reaching over to a small table next to his chair. On it sits a pair of glasses which Anti has surprisingly never seen before. Dark slides them onto his face and pushes them up his nose gracefully with his finger. “See?”

Anti blinks wordlessly at Dark. His eyes are wide and are scanning Dark’s face over and over again. He’s never seen this before and Dark isn’t able to tell whether this reaction is good or bad.

“Now you really look like an old man, Dark,” Anti giggles, the sound echoing around him and layering over itself.

Dark’s brows rise and his jaw sets. “Anti, you prick, I’m going to-”

“But you’re okay-lookin’ for an old man, I guess,” he then shrugs, a smug smirk on his face.

Dark’s anger and the compliment swirl inside of him and he shuts his mouth, muttering some profanities under his breath. He looks away for nothing but a second and when his eyes return to meet Anti’s, he’s met with a sight he never thought he would see.

Anti is wearing his glasses.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, kiddo,” he says, the corner of his lips twitching up into a smile.

Anti shrugs off the compliment and quickly takes the glasses off, grimacing.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbles as he walks off to his room. 

Dark, now feeling satisfied, sits back down into his chair and resumes his reading – he can see the words much better now.

Both Dark and Anti begin to wear their glasses more often now, even when they don’t necessarily need them.

My Favorite What If - Part 1

Masterlist Part 2

Summary: You run into your childhood friend Steve and wonder if you’ve missed out on a good thing.

Prompt(s): for @tatortot2701 ’s AU Writing Challenge!: “Please don’t tell me you got arrested again.”

Warnings: couple of swear words because it’s me, that’s all. :)

Word Count: 3078

Author’s Note: italics are memories/flashbacks. I loved this when I started then I’m not so sure about it… I’m mostly nervous to be back after such a long time away from writing. Oh well, nothing to it but to do it, so here it is. Some angst and floof. Also thanks to @denialanderror, that b who points out my typos. :) Thanks for your help on this one.

Originally posted by forassgard

The courthouse is a flurry of activity at this hour. Soon it’ll settle into the quiet drone of transcripts hammered out on antiquated technology, heavy doors groaning open and thundering shut as accused and accusers alike rotate in and out of courtrooms. There’s almost a peace to it for you, the steady rhythm of it all feels familiar and… normal.

You’d learned long ago that courthouses are far more mundane than Law & Order would have everyone believe. The truth is people filter in and out, arguing over traffic stops and staring each other down over divorce proceedings, sentences and decisions moving across the desks of bored judges faster than the papers can move, and all of it so incredibly commonplace. So incredibly boring.

But boring is good. It is for you, at least. Having spent time on more than one side of a courtroom, it’s a familiar place, and a safe one. Clutching today’s case file you ease back until your shoulders and head reach the marble wall behind you and you let your eyes drift closed, waiting to be called.

The tension just begins to slip from your shoulders when a booming happy voice echoes off the stone all around you, drawing your attention. You know it’s calling for you because it’s a familiar voice, so very familiar you’d never forget it. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head in surprise, your jaw falling open when you turn to finally look at him.

Please don’t tell me you got arrested again,” he teases, approaching you with arms outstretched and a broad grin. “My caseload is full, and you know my mom’ll kill me if I post your bail again.”

Keep reading

Bachelorette, Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader

Prompt: You’re starting to question your place in life when you find out your best friend is engaged.

Words: 1,550

Author’s Note: It’s been awhile, huh? Life’s been a bit crazy and a lot of my writing attention has gone to Cafes and Late Nights, but I was able to get this one together! Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Drinking.

Askbox | Masterlist

“You’ve got an admirer, ten o’clock.” Pippa’s tipsy voice sounded from next to you. You ignored her insistent tugs at your shirt sleeve as you ordered another water. “Come on! We’re in a club, you’re single, he’s attractive.”

“Then you talk to him.” The bartender smiled as she offered your drink, a sympathetic look for the designated driver. Pippa wiggled her ring finger in front of your face.

Oh. Right. The whole reason you were out tonight, celebrating.

Pippa’s impending marriage was certainly something to go to a club for - Paul was a good guy and he supported her and you definitely weren’t pissed off that anti-hopeless romantic Phillipa Soo was tying the knot before you were. Sure, you were excited for her and couldn’t wait to squeeze yourself into whatever unflattering maid-of-honor dress she picked for you, but there was a cloud of uncertainty looming in the distance

Keep reading

Accidents Happen {Reader Insert}

Imagine: A young Serpent needs refuge. Her first thought is an old friend, but when a redhead hottie opens the door, her plans are quick to change.

Summary: {Y/N} comes from the other side of the tracks, from a rough and broken home. In the spur of the moment, an accident happens and she’s left scared and vulnerable. She turns to an old friend, Jughead Jones. But it seems he’s quite preoccupied. Instead, she comes face to face with the famous Archie Andrews. Who knew good boys could make such good company?

Request?: No, another random thought that just had to be voiced. I mean, c’mon, Archiekins deserves all the love.

Word Count: 2078

Taglist: Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in anything.

Disclaimer: I do not own the gif, credit to the user that made it. The Riverdale characters and storyline are also not mine, credit to the writers and producers.

A/N: When I first started writing this little oneshot, I honestly wasn’t too sure as to where I wanted it to go. But, I am very happy with how this turned out. Do let me know what you think! And of course, my ask box is open for any requests that you might have! Enjoy, my little bookworms 🖤

Originally posted by storycrackimagines

Keep reading

a lot can change in 20 minutes] montgomery x reader

pairing: monty de la cruz x reader

summary: y/n and monty hate each other but after a twenty minute car ride together they decide maybe they shouldn’t. 

warnings: swearing 

a/n: okay there’s probably a lot of grammar and spelling mishaps in this because my computer decided to attack me at the WORST possible time and i had to type and edit a majority of this on my phone. sorry about it guys, worst first impression ever. i’m new (to posting at least!) so fingers crossed it’s not so bad. requests are open!!

also i know the gif is small but i’m working with limited options here okay


“You’re in my spot.” your glance up, raising your eyebrows before making a show of turning to look at the chair you’re sitting on.

Monty let’s out an impatient sigh. “What are you doing?”  

“I’m sorry, I’m just looking for your name.” you feign inspecting the seat. “Yeah, nope. Don’t see one. Maybe it’s on the back-”

“Okay, okay. Smart-ass.” he mutters, taking the empty seat next to you instead. Monty’s a jerk, and you don’t let him walk all over you, so: of course you annoy him.

“That’s for Sheri.” you inform him, flatly. 

“Don’t see her name on it.” he shrugs, clearly enjoying the flipped tables.  

“You don’t even want to sit there!” you complain. “You’re just doing it to annoy me.”

He mock pouts, tracing an imaginary tear down his cheek, which makes the guy in front of you laugh. 

You frown.”Gomery-”

The bell rings and you get cut off by attendance- which Monty finds way too much enjoyment in. You roll your eyes when he sticks his tongue out at you. 

“Monty’s glaring at you,” Jessica informs you lazily, slipping into the spot across from you. 

You crane your neck and he is, a furrow between his brows. You wave at him sarcastically until he roll his eyes and looks away.

 “Probably because Y/n was a mega bitch to him in math this morning.” Sheri informs her from beside you, reaching for a fry from your tray. 

“Was not!” you slap her hand away.”He was a mega bitch to me. I just reciprocated.”

“You two would be cute together.” Jess comments, swatting Sheri away from her fries too.

You scoff. “Exactly what part off this conversation made you think that?“

She shrugs.“I don’t know. Maybe not. I just think Montgomery’s underrated. He’s not so bad.”

“Right.” You nod sarcastically, which she laughs at.

“Fine, okay. Monty’s a no-go.”

“Thank you. Here,” you slide your fries to Sheri, who looks very pleased by this action. “I’ve gotta go get my notes from Zach before he leaves, so I’ll see you around?”

“Is Zach also a no-go?” Sheri questions, which makes Jess snicker and you roll your eyes.

Finding Zach was not actually as simple as he said it would be when you let him borrow your notes. You’d asked people who were all leading you in different directions until you gave up, texting Zach to just give them to you tomorrow during class. “Well, I’m screwed.” you complain when you get outside, taking in the pouring rain. Normally you catch a ride with Jess or Sheri, but since they left early for an away game you had to walk today. Lucky you. 

The only person you could see in the parking lot was probably the least likely person to help you. “Gomery!” you try anyway. He turns, eyebrows raising when he sees you jogging towards him. “Can you give me a ride?”

“What?” his brow crinkles. “Why would I do that?”

“Cause you’re nice?” he gives you a flat look. “And I’ll give you your spot back?” he looks no more convinced. 

“Please Gomery?” you pout, trying to guilt trip him. “Are you going to make me walk in the cold rain?”

“Monty.” he corrects. He looks at you for a second before sighing. “Whatever. My truck’s over here.”

You grin. “You’re the best, Gomery.”

 “Woah, your truck is fucked.” you observe when you get in, taking in the various wrappers and clothes tossed around. You look over at him, taking in his flat expression. You clear your throat. “I mean, nice truck. Really like what you’ve done with the place.”

He chuckles, shakes his head at you. “Shut up, y/l/n. Where do you live?”

“Maple Street.”

He frowns. “That’s like twenty minutes out of my way.” he complains. 

“And like a forty minute walk in the rain for me if you ditch me.” you add, which makes him roll his eyes. 

“Is that an offer?“

You laugh, about to respond when he turns a little too sharply, sending you clear into his lap. He sucks in a surprised breath. “Fucking fuck! You’re going to kill me.”

“Maybe if you don’t quit blocking my view.” he quips, and you flush at your placement, sliding back into your spot. You fasten your seat belt, tightening it as far as it will go. 

“I didn’t know you suck at driving.”

“I don’t.” he shoots you a look. “The roads are slippery- you know, you’re awfully picky for someone with a walk in the ‘cold rain’ in their foreseeable future.”

“Right.” you nod. You’re only quiet for a few minutes before you get bored. “Hey, Gomery?”

“Why do you always call me that?” He asks instead of answering. “It’s Monty.”

You shrug. “Cause everyone calls you Monty.”

“Yeah, because it’s my name.” He retorts, stopping at a red light.

“Well Monty’s too personal. Besides, I like Gomery.”

He looks at you for a beat longer than he should, before pulling forward when he realizes the light’s turned. He smiles. “I guess it’s not so bad.”

You almost have to do a double take. Monty smirks, he doesn’t smile. More importantly: his smile kind of makes you want to kiss him until your lips hurt. And you don’t want to kiss Monty. “Damn you like it?” You mock sigh. “Now I have to think of something else to call you.” 

“Ha-ha,” he’s back to rolling his eyes at you, but you can still tell he’s hiding a smile. You’re almost dispointed when he pulls onto your street. 

“That’s me,” you lift an arm to point. “To the right.”

He pulls up to the curb in front of your house. “Thanks,” you say, about to get out when you stop. “Hey, Monty?”

His eyebrows raise at your use of his preferred name. “Yeah?”

“You’re not as big of an asshole as I thought.” You grin at him, kissing his cheek before ducking out of his truck and running into your house to escape the rain.

Outside, Monty’s wearing another one of his uncharacteristic smiles, staring at your house for a second longer before shaking his head and pulling away.


i totally didn’t accidentally delete the ending and didn’t catch it so posted it like that what (it totally didn’t take me six hours to notice)

posted 7/27/2017



Originally posted by knowles-morgan

Originally posted by friendshipfeelsbetter

Request: Imagine based on Happier by Ed Sheeran with Happy.

You can listen to it here or here.

Because Im trash I have mixed flashbacks in readers view and third person 🙃 And as per usual I haven’t edited. This is a mess lol sorryyyy. Flashbacks in bold. x


Walking down 29th and Park
I saw you in another’s arms
Only a month we’ve been apart
You look happier

The bell over the door of the bakery chimed as Jax pushed it open and walked out into the street.
Happy and Chibs lifted their sunglasses to their heads as they followed after him.
Tig was leant against his bike, puffing on a cigarette while he waited.
When he saw them leave the bakery he threw the butt to the ground and stood straight.
“What’d Barosky say?” Tig asked.
“We gotta meet Colette at Diosa.” Jax replied and swung his leg over his bike.
Happy absentmindedly glanced down the street when he did a double take.
She threw her head back and laughed, her arm swinging out to playfully hit the chest of the man beside her.
He could almost hear her laugh, the memory of her etched deeply into his mind.
His jaw clenched as he watched the man wrap an arm over her shoulder and pull her body close to his own, both of them laughing.
The sound of a motorcycle firing up caught his attention  and he stormed towards his bike, fighting the urge to look back at her.
He had no right to be angry. He was the one who had ended things. He wanted this.
He swung his leg over his bike and sunk into the seat.
“Ye alright brother?” Chibs asked, instantly noticing the change in Happys demeanour.
Happy nodded. “I’ll meet you there.”
Chibs’ eyes narrowed but he nodded and turned to Jax.
Happy fought the urge to look at her, knowing that if his Brothers saw her they would stop him.
One by one the three bikes pulled into the street and Happy waited til they disappeared from sight before he swung off his bike.
His head snapped up and he looked into the street, searching desperately for her.
Almost instantly his eyes found her, recognising her smile immediately and he watched as the man pulled her into a nearby cafe.

Walking down 29th and Park
I saw you in another’s arms
Only a month we’ve been apart
You look happier

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