noel fisher

⏸marry me

It's been almost fifteen years since you met the sweet and innocent Cotton. Ever since your eyes met with his blue ones, you both knew you had a friend for life.

Lately, the boy's been acting shady; different, in a way. Whenever you see him, he quickly looks away, with wide, nervous eyes, as his attention goes back to his father. The sudden strange feeling you got when you were around him continued to grow for an entire week. He almost seemed like he didn't want to talk to you; but that was a peculiar thought. The two of you had been friends for a very long time.

You left your suspicions grow during this time, until he finally come through and demanded, in the nicest way possible, that you two meet at the bar. His words, precisely: "Meet me there tonight." He nodded his head, slightly, before walking away, not even giving you a chance to ask why.

Regardless, you still attended. You had walked into the bar, surrounded by the rest of the local men and women. Your eyes landed on Cotton, who's back faced you. Dodging the other people, you made your way to him, quickly; eager to know what had gotten into him.

"Oh - my lady," He nervously fumbled when he saw you approaching. He instantly stood up, staring at you, with a small look of anxiety.

"Cotton, what has gotten into you?" You had asked, pleasantly surprised that he referred to you as his lady. Anywhere else in the world, it was a simple greeting, but, for here, it was what you referred to your significant other as. Needless to say, he had been thinking too much.

"I want you to marry me, (y/n)," He said, quickly, as his hands had started to shake, slightly. It was then, you noticed, the entire bar watching from the corner of their eyes, expectantly. It was so obviously planned out, but you didn't pay any mind to it. You smiled, instead, widely.

"Yes! Yes!" You had exclaimed, shamelessly throwing your arms around him, almost hearing the breath of relief he had let out, whilst all of the other locals around had applauded, cheering for the well known Cotton.

"Don't be so modest, boy! Kiss your wife!" A man, who was Cotton's uncle, had exclaimed from the other side of the room, with a glass of whisky in his hand. Cotton had nervously smiled at this, glancing down at his own feet to forget about the others around him. Who could blame him? He always was nervous, being the center of all attention.

Finally looking up at you, again, he did. He leaned in, and kissed your lips, gently. It was the exact same way you had imagined it to be, ever since you met him. People had cheered, and hollered, but, still, you didn't pay any mind to it.

"I - I love you," He still stumbled on his words when you finally parted. You smiled, simply, as did he, with his forehead still pressed to yours.

"I love you, too!" You were too high on happiness to even think properly, believing that you would have fallen if he ever let go.