IVE ACTUALLY STARTED WRITING AND IM SO EXCITEDDDDDDDDD

IVE ACTUALLY STARTED WRITING AND IM SO EXCITEDDDDDDDDD

NOW WHAT’S THIS ABT??????

It's almost MLB playoff time. Which means it's almost time for me to start posting my new series!

nearly at 450 i truly cannot believe all the love on this fic you guys are too kind 🥺🫂

almost 200 notes on this one already 🥺 THANK YOU ALL!! 🫂

EMILY DO YOU KNOW THAT I'M INSANE??!?!??!?! WHERE IS MY HOT NEW NEIGHBOR WITH A VINTAGE CAR THAT I CAN ROMANCE WITH MY CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIE RECIPE </3 nonny is living my DREAMS right now.

Here's a fluffy blurb for the nonny with the new Bronco neighbor. May you enjoy every happiness in life.

Ouchie

Bradley looked at his wife laying next to him in bed. Her hand was resting on his chest, and her lip was a little bit puffy from being overworked by his mustache, but she was smiling softly, eyes closed and lashes brushing her cheeks. 

"I'm still shocked that you agreed to go out with me, let alone marry me," he muttered, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "I must have looked like an idiot that first day we met."

Your soft laughter left him grinning as you ran your fingers through his chest hair. "No, you didn't look like an idiot. You were sweet."

Another uhaul truck. The cute little rental house across the street from yours seemed to have a new tenant every other month. As soon as you took a freshly baked treat over to meet your new neighbor, it felt like they were moving out again. Maybe this one would stay longer?

"Sweet Lord," you muttered when you set eyes on him. He was tinkering around under the hood of his vintage Ford Bronco on the driveway next to the uhaul, and he looked up to smile at you as you parked in your own driveway. You wouldn't mind if this one stuck around longer.

When you climbed out of your car, his soft eyes were still looking your way, and you saw that he had a mustache too. Well, you didn't have any fresh out of the oven chocolate chip cookies for him, but you definitely wanted to get a closer look.

"Hi," he called out with a smile that just made him look even more handsome, and he waved the wrench in his right hand in greeting.

"Hi," you replied, walking toward the street, and he looked so happy that you were coming his way. You felt giddy inside, and somehow your feet got tangled up at the curb. 

"Oh, no," you gasped, falling as if in slow motion. Your palms hit the pavement first followed by your knees. And yeah, the scrapes hurt, but the sting of mortification washed over you just as fast. You wanted to disappear and reappear in your bed which you were never going to leave again after this. Because your hot new neighbor was rushing over to get to you as you scrambled to your feet.

"Are you okay?" he asked, skidding to a halt in the middle of the street. Why was he stopping in the middle of the street? You looked down at your hands as the small cuts started to bleed, and you just held your palms up for him to see like some sort of weirdo.

"I'm fine," you replied sheepishly. But he winced and started your way again as a car pulled down the street. 

He slipped his wrench into the pocket of his jeans and reached for your hands. His thumb stroked gently along your wrist, and then he glanced up at you. "Ouchie."

And you couldn't help but smile at his sweet expression of concern. "Yeah. Ouchie."

Then he blushed, probably realizing what he had said, but he didn't stop stroking your wrist. "If it makes you feel any better, I actually hit myself in the face with my wrench earlier while trying to change my oil."

You laughed at that. "You know... that does somehow make me feel a little bit better." 

"I'm Bradley," he said, giving your wrist a little squeeze.

You told him your name and then asked, "Do you like chocolate chip cookies?"

"I like all cookies," he replied easily.

"Perfect," you said softly. "I always make some for my new neighbors. Maybe after I get my hands cleaned up, I'll bake them for you."

Bradley nodded once, gently lacing his fingers with yours, but still careful not to bump your palm at all. "Want me to give you a hand?"

"No," Bradley disagreed. "I looked like an idiot. The first thing I said to you was 'Ouchie'. Who even says that?"

You laughed and rolled on top of him. "That wasn't the first thing you said. It was like the second or third. And you were so sweet, and I was already mesmerized by your mustache, so it didn't really even matter."

"And then I almost burned down your kitchen."

You pressed your lips together to try to stifle your laughter. "Okay, yes. That's true."

"And you still agreed to go out to dinner with me," he said, kissing the tip of your nose.

"I sure did. There's just something about you." You slid up a little further and kissed his lips as you whispered, "Ouchie."

man. idk. (tw topics below: disordered eating)

i’ve been struggling to eat this week. mentally it’s just a block in my head. my family has always judged me for my eating habits and patterns, which has led to my past and currently relapsing eating disorders. i can eat whatever i find in the morning that my stomach can handle while everyone is still asleep and not watching me. but i don’t bring a lunch to work. if they’re offering free food there i take it but i don’t ever spend money on myself. i can’t rationalize it when it’s my own fucked up head that’s putting me in this position. i won’t spend money as some kind of easy break. and when i get home from work? unless there’s something that makes me have an appetite made i don’t want to eat. and dinner is always ready so late, and eating late makes my stomach hurt. and someone is always propped up in the dining room and i feel too crowded to make anything i would want to eat myself. and if my mom sees me making something even remotely unhealthy she HAS to make a comment about it. and then i don’t want to eat at all.

i wanna just picture bradley noticing i haven’t been taking lunches with me, or that i head right up to sleep as soon as i’m home, even if it’s only 5 pm. i want him to sit beside me and rub my back. maybe he can feel a little less weight on me than he is used to, and that makes him all the more worried. “what’s going on, baby?”

and maybe i crack and tell him. how my mentality is swallowing me whole. how i’m both too anxious to do anything for myself and also feeling like i don’t deserve to be cared for by anyone. and that i shouldn’t dare to burden another soul with my issues because they are my fault. it’s my fault i feel this way. it’s my fault i’m so broken and worthless.

and he just lays down to bring me into his arms and hold me. he tells me all the things he finds wonderful about me and that i do deserve to be cared for both by myself and by others. that my issues are not a burden to those who love me. that they, he wants to help however he can.

he asks me what i want to eat. anything i want, he will make it or order in. but i don’t want him anywhere besides wrapped around me. maybe something comes into my head that i would love to indulge in. maybe nothing does, and he gently assures me that he’ll order a few options for me to pick at.

and bradley sits with me in his lap as i try and eat, in either case. he’s got a show for us on so that his focus seems diluted from me. but he’s watching me intently as i nibble at the delivery. he rubs along my waist and gives me affirming kisses to my cheek. he’s so encouraging i’m misty eyed. but he wipes at my tears and coos at me.

“it’s okay.”

“i love you.”

“i’m so proud of you.”

“i’m here for you every step of the way.”

i’m full before i’d normally be: my stomach has shrunken with my appetite. but he is proud nonetheless that i satiated myself. bradley puts leftovers ready to go in a container for work the next day. he cuddles with me in bed, continuing to reassure me as long as i need. i’m not alone. someone cares. someone will always care.

OVER 300 NOW??? 🥹🥹🥹

almost 200 notes on this one already 🥺 THANK YOU ALL!! 🫂