Dan Howell Imagines ••

You meet Dan at a club

I'm currently still writing some cute / fluffy imagines. PLEASE PLEASE leave requests. I will get right to them! Enjoy :3
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You were lying on your bed, staring up at the ceiling. You would've thought that by the third year of university you'd have lots to be doing, people to see, that kind of thing. But no, you distinctly remember nights sitting by yourself on the internet, crying over TV shows and eating. Probably the most memorable thing that happened to you was getting a boyfriend... Oh wait, but then he cheated on you.

You huffed and shifted a little, now staring angrily at the ceiling like it personally offended you. That asshole wasn't worth thinking about anymore, wasn't worth wasting any more tears on.

You had friends, pretty good ones at that, but they didn't quite share the same interests as you. You wanted to live your life, do the things that made you happy, try something new and see different places. They just wanted to get that degree and graduate, settle into a mediocre life. That lifestyle seemed so smothering, but hey, if that's what they wanted... They were nice people, but they made it really hard for you to have any fun.

Your phone vibrated, and you picked it up off the bed next to you. It was just a Twitter notification, not that you expected anything else. Out of habit, you checked the time: 9:32pm. Sweet, you thought, another night wasted lamenting my uninteresting life. With a sigh, you dragged yourself up from your bed and sat in front of your beloved laptop.
Whenever you got on the internet, you had a habit of opening the same tabs up in a specific order: Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Youtube. You steeled yourself as Facebook loaded; you always checked that first to get the pain of people's stupidity out of the way. Statuses containing horrendous grammar and silly "share this picture if you have a heart" pictures slid by as you scrolled absentmindedly, scanning for posts of interest. Still in the aftermath of cringing at a particularly stupid post, your eyes caught the link to an event page advertising an 18+ club; some of your Facebook "friends" (let's be honest, you had no idea who they were and you were pretty sure they wouldn't recognize you if they talked to you) were attending. Clubbing was pretty fun, if you were in the right mood and the right kind of people were there; nothing quite like all-age clubs filled with horny 14 year olds sporting DIY belly button piercings...

According to the page, the doors opened at 10pm, but everyone knew that no one went until at least an hour after. You'd have plenty of time to get ready, seeing as you were planning to go alone. It was hard to remember the last time you'd gone clubbing; since none of your friends go with you, it's sometimes scary to go by yourself when you're a 20 year old female.

You switched to Twitter without RSVPing to the event; since it was tonight there was really no point. Not bothering to go very far down your timeline, you clicked the Tumblr tab to quickly reblog a few things. You checked the time again before closing your laptop: 20 minutes had passed while you were checking your social networks.

Sitting there for a moment, you briefly considered your outfit options before getting up to walk to your closet. You selected a tight, lacy dress, before sitting in front of your mirror. In terms of makeup, you decided on a simple silver and black smoky look with a pinkish lip stain. You swept your hair up in a messy bun, sticking in a few sparkly pins and clips, and then shimmied into your dress. As for shoes, you opted for strappy silver 2-inch heels; it's not like you needed extra height anyway, and a night of fun to you didn't exactly include aching feet the next day. Diamond studs went in your ears and a bracelet to match adorned your left wrist.

You appraised yourself in the mirror. The single shoulder strap ensured your dress would not be slipping down embarrassingly at any point during the night. Instead of a clutch, which would require holding all night, you shoved your necessities in your bra; all you really needed was money, your ID, and your keys, after all. You didn't really need your phone, but you decided to carry it anyway, just in case.