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lpdwillwrite4coffee · 5 months

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Okay y'all. This is the story of how I owe $17,000 to the guy who propositioned me during family night at a local brewery and now I'm committed to bringing sensible wine options to his house for Thanksgiving.

Our tale begins like most do - panic crying in the living room while my house floods. Because of a freak polar vortex like day in February, my old drafty house and the rust bucket of a boiler in the cellar created a horrific one-two punch that ended in me nearly freezing to death in my own home and almost all of my heating pipes cracking and leaking, flooding my first floor and basement. It was terrifying, beyond stressful, and most importantly to this story, expensive.

After 2 and a half months of living in a hotel, battling insurance companies, daily anxiety attacks, and having 4 grand of insurance money stolen by my bipolar, narcissistic mother, I hit my absolute fucking limit. Friends of mine who are much better off financially than I have ever been in my life offered to help me out of the dark, lonely, and cold hole I'd wound up in. Three text messages and a lot of tears later, I was in possession of a check for $17,000 and had an official start date for construction. Praise Dolly.

A hop, skip, and a jump through time and we're now in July. I'm paying my friends back in monthly installments and trying not to crumble from the knowledge that it will take me 4 or 5 years of consistent payments to get out from under this loan. But at least I have heat. It's the little things I guess.

My friend, let's call him Mitch, and his wife, who unfortunately shares my name but for this we'll call her Lucette, are kindly checking in on me and inviting me to coffee/dinner/drinks to hang out. Things seem like they're back on track to being normal.

Lucette gets a new job that requires a ton of travel, so I don't see her as much as I do Mitch, but that doesn't bother me, as Lucette and I were never particularly close and spending more than an hour of time with her makes me feel like a dirt poor 19 year old who showed up to a nice dinner party in paint stained jeans and a ripped band tee. We are not energetic or socioeconomic equals.

One weekend, Mitch and I get drinks just to catch up, and he tells me that him and Lucette have made the decision to try out ENM (ethical non-monogamy). They've been married for 7 years, have had a bit of a dry spell due to pandemic close proximity, and there's just the general vibe that they want to try new things. I get it! And I'm encouraging. Life is too short for bad sex, I tell him, and he's thankful I'm not judging them. We have a good laugh about it all - particularly the bit about them seeing my profile on Feeld, as they have one too - and after another beer, I go home.

This is probably the part of the movie where the music changes, warning the viewer that some event is looming and possibly dangerous for our protagonist. If only life had such a soundtrack I could hear.

Throughout the summer and into September Mitch and I see more of each other and I take notice of the uptick in chill weekend day drinking and texts. Nothing about it feels off or motivated by anything other than being bored and wanting to hang out with a friend. And because I know about his ENM journey, I think there's the appeal there of getting to speak freely to someone who won't wrinkle their nose and make jokes about bringing pineapples to neighborhood BBQs. In a stunning change of mental pace, I don't overanalyze it. Perhaps this was a mistake.

One morning I wake up a text from Mitch cancelling plans. I'm secretly thrilled - I didn't want to shower that day anyway. But I can also tell something has gone horribly wrong on his end, but he doesn't say what, so I just "yeah, sure, let me know when you're free next" my way out of the conversation.

When we do talk next, he tells me why he cancelled. Lucette cheated on Mitch during a work trip. They'd established rules within their ENM arrangement that she broke. And she broke them loudly, multiple times, and with her iPad still logged in and left on the kitchen counter in full view of Mitch. Horrible words are said, declarations of 'the best sex of her life' are sent to several group chats, pictures are seen. It's bad.

Mitch is unwell. I comfort him as best as I can and he tells me that he and Lucette aren't pulling the divorce lever yet, but he's still heartbroken and scared he's going to lose his marriage. I feel awful for him. I offer to buy him another beer. He shows me the texts he saw. It's officially A Lot.

From that day on, I become his "my wife cheated on me with the guy she told me not to worry about" therapist friend who he can unload on and get sympathetic words in return. I've been imprinted on by the depressed baby bird hatched by infidelity and low self-esteem. It's not the first time, and I'm certain it won't be the last.

Tell me, how's that soundtrack only you, the audience, can hear? I bet it's tense and full of cello.

A few weeks later, I get a head cold. It's not the end of the world but it's annoying. I'm fevered, stuffy, exhausted, and I have not a drop of soup or broth in my home. Mitch sees my Instagram story about being sick and offers to bring me soup. "Aww, that's so nice of you, thank you." "Of course! I'll go get it and be right over." "Awesome! Just text me when you drop it off." Thirty minutes later my doorbell rings. My dogs bark their heads off. I'm a little annoyed. The bell rings again. I see Mitch's car in my driveway. I mutter to myself about why he didn't just leave it on the steps as I go to the door. I look disgusting and I'm flushed with a solid 100.2 fever, but I guess I'm having face time with Mitch now. I open the door and he hands over the soup almost immediately, but with an odd look on his face. I thank him and ask what I owe, but he refuses for me to pay him back. I thank him again. He doesn't make a move to leave. I tell him I'd invite him in but.... *gestures widely to the PJs I've worn for 3 days in a row and the broken capillaries in my nose and the dogs still barking behind the second entryway door* He smiles awkwardly and says it's okay. He still doesn't leave. "So... how are you, Mitch?" His shoulders slump. "I'm not doing great."

Ah. There it is. Mystery solved. My time has been bought with soup and he's lingering to collect on it. So I lean on my door, sniff back a disgusting level of mucus, and brace myself for whatever is about to be said. Turns out, Lucette couldn't stop texting the Best Sex Ever guy and possibly is fixated on him due to some weird aging hot girl nonsense. Mitch tells me he and Lucette are separating. She's sleeping in her home office. The mess got messier. I tell him I'm so incredibly sorry, this is awful, etc etc etc. He stays for 20 minutes to tell me all of this and get as much of a pep talk as I can muster while trying not to sneeze directly in his eyes.

In the interim, I've gotten several strangely loaded texts from Lucette, telling me she's glad Mitch has me and that she knows he values my friendship and advice on things. Alexa, play "She Knows." But I keep things as vague as possible, because I don't want to shove myself even more in the middle. I didn't choose to be imprinted on, but I can choose not to encourage a more permanent bond. Call me a wildlife rehabilitation center.

Being sick takes me out of commission for a while, and I have to reschedule multiple things, including getting beer with Mitch. That doesn't deter him from messaging me of course, but I don't see him for a couple weeks. When I'm feeling better, I tell him we should check out a brewery we've never been to before and we set a day.

This is probably the part when the audience yells as the protagonist not to go. Don't get in the car. Stay home.

Ah, to not be a participant in the narrative.

I get to the brewery and immediately I notice 2 things: 1, it's family Sunday Funday, and 2, the vibes around Mitch are........uncomfy. I turn into a socially anxious motormouth. I can't stop talking about literally everything that doesn't matter, including the child at the table next to us playing a solo game of Uno and the 80's music playlist. I order my beer and finally force myself to chill tf out. Maybe I've picked up on a vibe that has nothing to do with me. Maybe he's just feeling weird. Maybe I'm just insane. All of these options are valid.

Halfway thru our drinks, Mitch brings up the odd texts from Lucette. "I think I know why she was being weird with you." "Oh? Why?" I sip my beer and wait. He says, "So, back when Lucette and I decided to open up our marriage, we had a discussion about who we'd see ourselves dating..."

Hey audience, how's that music crescendo?

I blink. Mitch gestures with his beer. "And obviously, your name was at the top of my list."

And because I'm the definition of smooth, I practically shout, "REALLY???" so loudly 5 people turn around and look at me. Mitch doesn't even look away from me. Instead, he stares deeper into my eyes and asks, "Do you ever see that becoming a possibility?"

Me. Dating Mitch. After months of supporting him through a painful, messy separation that hasn't even really become official. After knowing way too much about his sex life. After all the sad boy memes and depressed 1am texts he's sent. After being forced to read his angry, sexually charged break up poetry in front of him 2 beers in at the bar.

AFTER I HAD TO BORROW $17,000 FROM HIM AND LUCETTE.

I verbally flounder for a painfully long 12 seconds while watching that little girl beat herself with another Uno Reverse card, and finally land on a gentle but firm rejection of the idea. I don't have a chance to mentally process all the messed up parts to this messed up puzzle in the moment but when I get home it starts to click.

They had that conversation in the spring. Around the time that I had to borrow the money in the first place. And while I don't have proof, I can almost guarantee that Lucette vetoed Mitch's suggestion of bringing me into their situation, and now that they're breaking up, he feels like he can take a swing at it (pun? unintended?)

Which means that every single interaction, every single conversation and hang out, every single dollar bill I borrowed is colored with the knowledge I now possess which is that Mitch, for however long, has wanted to fuck me. He's wanted to fuck me so. Goddamn. Bad.

Audience, I bet you're the star at your optometrist's office with all that 20/20 vision. I'm honestly jealous.

No wonder Lucette was sending probing texts with the energy of "I know you know, and now you know I know." No wonder Mitch attached himself to me like a duckling trying to cross a busy road. No wonder both of them were so earnestly checking on me when I first moved back into my house. NO WONDER MY SUBCONSCIOUS MIND HAD BEEN SCREAMING "YOU'RE IN DANGER GIRL" FOR WEEKS.

And before ALL of this, Mitch had organized Thanksgiving at his house since Lucette would be out of town, and one of his friends created a list of what people can bring. I signed up for wine, since it means I don't have to cook. And when this entire thing came to a head, I started to write an "I'm bailing" text to Mitch. But before I could pull that trigger, our mutual friend messaged me to say how happy she is that I'll be there and that she's missed me.

So now, after finding out that Mitch has wanted to get his dick in me for months (if not longer) without even considering the power imbalance of me owing him SEVENTEEN THOUSAND DOLLARS, I have to pick out a sensible red and white wine and show up at his house at 2pm on Thursday.

Audience. Reader. Friends. I am.... stressed. And in serious debt.

And apparently hot enough to possibly instigate an argument between spouses.

Cue the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving song. This year I'm grateful for autonomy and friends willing to come up with a code word in case I need to escape quickly.

#ohhhhhhhhh this is bad bad badbadbad #“obviously” SORRY??? OBVIOUSLY????????#OBVIOUSLY YOU'RE AT THE TOP OF MY LIST #WHAT LIKE I'M FRESH MEAT ON YOUR GROCERY LIST???#WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK #this is edging closer and closer into financial abuse territory and I HAVE to get out from under it #he didn't even think about how bad this could be for me #or how uncomfortable it would make me #and here I am just trying not to freak out about owing them money for the next 5 years of my life #AND HE GOES AND PROPOSITIONS ME #I can't #this is too much #god this sucks #what do I even do now??#this was not the holiday I anticipated #storytime #tumblr stories

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twinklelilstarkey · 3 years

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Good Girl [HC] - Part 2

Words: 1.4k+

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol consumption. Rafe is a protective mess. Kinda Rafe vs JJ.

DO NOT REPOST, REWRITE OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORK!

Part 1

Your first date would start with a simple dinner out;

And end with a small walk on the beach;

Rafe would hold your hand as you two would walk silently through the empty beach that circled the island;

And not even with a complete second date, you two would start dating;

Your relationship, right off the bat, would be sooo envied by everyone in your school;

Like, you two are absolute perfection;

The island’s good girl and the island’s bad boy?

Now that’s movie worthy;

As your relationship evolved, the love you two share grew insanely;

You two would have everyday activities that were done so many times that became routines;

Rafe would always pick you up to go to school and to go home;

You two would hang out every afternoon together;

His nights would usually be reserved for his boys;

Who, by the way, love you like a sister;

Whenever Rafe couldn’t go to school, for any reason, they would hang out with you the whole day so you wouldn’t be alone;

Even though you still had your other friends;

Have lunch with you in the cafeteria or even take you out to lunch;

Those boys would always make sure you’re happy;

Once your relationship with Rafe reached a few months, he was finally able to take you to a party;

And you hate that he was able to do it;

Your parents were shocked when you asked them to go to a party at a Friday night;

And since it’s so rare, they let you go;

Rafe would pick you up and take you to the kook’s house that would end up trashed at the end of the night;

Whoever was sober enough was in shock when they saw you in there;

Like, 5 whole minutes of staring at you in shock;

Rafe would have his arm over your shoulders the whole time;

And it took you a while to actually start enjoying the party;

Since the first few minutes were filled with seeing people grinding on each other and smoking into other’s faces;

Topper would be the one grabbing drinks for everyone and he even got you one;

Rafe was the one that actually talked your way into taking a small sip to finally try alcohol;

Topper was nice enough to get you a sweet drink but the after taste of the alcoholic drink made you cringe at Rafe;

He laughed with you the whole night;

Even more when you decided to ignore the aftertaste and just enjoy the drink;

Bad way to find that you’re a light weight in your first time;

But even though it was hilarious to him, he still took care of you;

You had a good time;

You danced with some girls that you met through Topper and they also were one of the reasons why it was so much fun;

A lot of friendships started that night;

And as it got later, you started running out of energy;

Leaning onto Rafe’s chest as he talked to his friend, his hand running through your back in a comforting way;

You had to admit, it was hard not to fall asleep right there;

Rafe didn’t take you home that night since he didn’t want to make you do the silent walk of shame through the house that would surely end up in your parents waking up;

So he took you to his;

The headache on the next day wasn’t as fun;

For you at least;

Rafe finally understood why you would laugh when he was suffering in the mornings;

After that night you started going to parties more frequently;

You would still, sometimes, stay home to finish homework or just to watch a show;

But Rafe’s friends started to ask him many times when were you going to come party with them again, so that was one of the reasons why you went a second, a third and a tenth time to a party with them;

Your parents were slightly worried in the beginning but since they trusted Rafe, it was easier for them to see you walk out of the house on a Friday night;

The only night Rafe didn’t have as much fun was in a party between the Cut and Figure Eight, where the two rivals of the island joined in for a beach party;

He still doesn’t know why the party still happens on a monthly basis, since it’s just a simple, and sometimes boring, bonfire party that would always end with fights;

Quite hypocritical of Rafe, since he would usually be involved in them (when you weren’t with him);

And he disliked it more on your first time in one of these parties;

He had decided to stay (mostly) sober for the night, just in case something would go down;

You hanged out with his group most of the night, but as soon as you started talking to Kiara Carrera, Rafe tensed up;

The Pogues had no idea who you were when Kie brought you to their group, including who you were dating, since they don’t go to the Kook Academy;

And even though Kiara does go to that school, she never cared enough to check who the popular kids were dating;

So yes, this is just the perfect opportunity for all to turn shit;

“Hey Rafe, where’s Y/N?”

As soon as that girl would ask him that, as he talked to Topper, Rafe woke up to reality to notice that you weren’t meters away from him anymore;

He looked around the party to find you talking to Kiara and... JJ;

He was pissed;

But Kelce stopped him before he could go attack the pogues and snatch you away;

So, he offered to do the extraction;

Rafe stayed back as his best friend walked past the huge bonfire and kicked sand on his way to you;

If anything were to go south, Rafe, and, now also, Topper would be right there to run in;

“Hey, Y/N!” Kelce called out as he was close enough, making you end the conversation and look at your boyfriend’s friend;

“What could you want from her, Kelce?” JJ asked back;

You obviously didn’t feel the tense air building up, but everyone else from the group surely did;

As the two boys would bicker, you sipped your drink calmly and stayed lost in your thoughts;

“Rafe is looking for you, Y/N. Let’s go” Kelce would say, almost pleading;

Oh oh

That annoyed the crap out of the Pogues;

“Does he own her or something?” and “Last time I checked she’s free to be wherever she wants to be!” were just examples of what Kelce got as answers;

As soon as the tense atmosphere was more evident, Topper walked past Rafe and walked over there to try and help out his friend to not start a fight;

Leaving an annoyed and a overthinking Rafe with himself;

“Wow, does Rafe want to call any more reinforcements to get a girl?” JJ would bicker, making John B laugh at him;

“If she’s not leaving, it might mean that she doesn’t want to go hang out with your little leader, guys. Go annoy some other girl” Kie would add;

Pope would honestly just stand back and watch everything silently with you;

As they bickered the minutes away, you pat your pockets for your phone and you can’t find it;

Alcohol already affecting your mind enough to not acknowledge the argument in front of you, as well as why they’re arguing, you take a step back from the commotion;

“Wow, you guys really know how to scare a girl away” Kie would say to the Kook boys;

Both Topper and Kelce haven’t been able to say anything that would explain why they needed you to go back to the Kook’s side (example A: Rafe’s dating you), but it’s not like they didn’t try;

JJ would honestly not let them talk;

Same thing with Kie;

“Y/N, can we please go?” Topper would ask you, ignoring the girl beside him;

“Yeah, I don’t know where my phone is” You would murmur over the commotion;

“He has it!” Kelce would yell over JJ’s voice;

Everyone quiets down and you look over to the other side of the party to find Rafe glaring towards you;

You frown at him and walk away from everyone, drunkenly stumbling in the air as you made your way towards your boyfriend;

As he extends his hand towards you, you take it and lean in close to his body;

And that shocked everyone from the Pogue’s group;

Topper and Kelce would look at them in annoyance almost as if they would trying to say “We were trying to tell you this” with just their eyes;

JJ and Rafe share glares as his friends walk back to their side;

And as Rafe throws his arm over your shoulder to pull you in closer to his chest, JJ clenches his jaw and looks away;

Rafe, now satisfied, plants a kiss over your forehead and rests his chin on top of your head as you snuggle close to him;

This will be fun to explain to you in the morning.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Oh, I’m a sucker for rivalry between Rafe and JJ. Don’t judge me.

(You can request more BadGuy!Rafe vs JJ moments if you would like to see that) Or just ask for more Good Girl x Bad boy.

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#rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron imagine #drew starkey imagine #rafe cameron imagines #drew starkey imagines #rafe cameron #drew starkey #outer banks rafe #outer banks #netflix outer banks #obx

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bebepac · 3 years

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Falling For You

I am participating in @wackydrabbles Prompt # 94 courtesy of @rookie-ramsey “I’m giving you one last chance.” which will appear in bold.

This is also chapter 4 of The Meet: To catch up on what you’ve been missing, please click: The Meet

The Book: TRR

Pairing: Liam x Jilian (Liam x F!OC) / Leo x Bebe? (Leo x F!OC)

Warnings: profanity, I think. Fluff. I really think Drama Whore is locked in a basement somewhere.

Leo, Liam and Maddy belong to pixelberry. Jilian belongs to my friend @queenjilian , and all others are my own characters to help support our story.

Summary: Jilian and Liam celebrate their six month anniversary. Leo shows up to Bebe’s apartment unannounced.

A/N: This took a different turn than originally anticipated. Thank you @dcbbw for giving me an idea to rework a section, and @queenjilian as I feel we talk about this series daily.

This keeps taking a turn on me guys. I’m sorry I don’t outline. But I guess that is part of the magic here too.

Word Count: 1496

ORIGINAL POST DATE: 05/11/21 at 12:15PM EST.

He couldn't help but stare. She was so beautiful, even while she was sleeping.

"Liam, don't be creepy."

Jilian opened her eyes looking at him.

Liam’s mannerisms turned incredibly bashful.

"I can't help it. You're a vision. I am completely enamored by you, Jilian Winchester. Happy six month anniversary. I have something for you.”

Jili gasped. Her work schedule the past few weeks had been so hectic she had totally forgotten the date. That night was the first time in several weeks they had actually been able to see each other.

Jili was panicked.

“What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t realize the date.. Work has been so crazy. I know that’s not an excuse.”

He held out his gift for her. She felt guilty.

“I don’t have anything for you Liam. I’m sorry.”

“That’s not the reason you give a gift to someone Jili."

He pulled the small perfectly wrapped jewelry sized box out of the dresser.

Jili sat up in bed, the covers drifting a bit revealing bare skin, to which Liam's eyes quickly fell upon.

"Jili, your body is present enough for me. You are absolute perfection."

She opened the box. Inside was an adorable charm bracelet.

The charms on the bracelet were all medical inspired. There was a medical bag, a stethoscope, a little ambulance, and she took particular time with the caduceus.

“This is a beautiful gift.”

“I see you’re staring at the Caduceus. Did you know….”

“It’s Greek. The symbol goes back to Greco-Egyptian mythology.”

Liam’s eyes flashed in interest.

“Greece has always been on my bucket list, Liam. I’m going to make it to Santorini someday. What I’ve seen of it in movies and in books, I have to see that in real life.”

“And you will. Maybe I’ll make it there with you.”

“Maybe. Thank you for the beautiful gift.”

“Anytime love.”

His lips met hers again in a sultry kiss. Jili melted in his arms, falling back into the pillows.

She could be late for work once.

Liam at dinner that night couldn’t be more sweet and romantic. The flowers, the music and the dancing. He just made her feel like she was the only woman in the world when he looked at her the way he was at that moment.

“How do you do it Liam?”

“Do what?” He questioned her.

“Make me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world?”

“That’s easy Jili. You are.”

Liam paid for the check and Jili booked the rideshare back to her place. While Liam was in the restroom she got a text from the driver saying they had arrived.

“Shit!” Jili ran out of the restaurant, texting Liam “Silver Honda accord “

She jumped into the honda.

“I’m sorry! My boyfriend will be out in a second.”

“Jaiden Brooks?”

“No.”

Jili glanced at her phone.

“I was sure it said silver honda accord.”

“It is.. But there’s also one behind us.”

“And you’re not Chloe.”

The man chuckled. “I’ve been called a lot of names in my life, Chloe is not one of them.”

Jili jumped out of the vehicle barreling head first into a guy.

“Whoa, moonlighting as an offensive lineman?”

“It’s how I went pro.” Jili flexed her muscles.

He laughed, his soft brown eyes twinkled.

“You take it easy now.”

“Likewise.”

She smiled as she walked to the second Silver Honda Accord.

Still in earshot she heard a woman come up next to him.

“Are you serious Jai?”

“What?” He seemed genuinely confused.

“You’re flirting and looking at some random chick right in front of me?”

Jaiden looked exasperated. “Carmen, I wasn’t looking at her!!!!! She ran into me, I was polite to her, that’s all.”

“You would say that now that you’ve been caught.”

She pointed her manicured finger at him.

“I’m giving you one last chance.”

“I WASN’T LOOKING AT HER!!!! Carmen, you're my girlfriend!!!!”

They climbed into the car, and Jili was sure their argument was far from over.

Liam joined her a few moments later, pulling her into his arms.

“I’m glad we have such a healthy relationship.”

“What brought this on?”

“I just saw this couple. I ran into the guy by accident. The girl immediately accused him of cheating.”

“Well…. Maybe he gave her a reason to, in their past.”

“He really didn’t seem like the type. He cracked a corny joke. Seemed really kind.”

“We’ll never know Jili.”

Author’s note: Ohhhh But we will. We’ll know all about Jaiden Brooks at a later date…

Bebe was out in the bar with Leo. Something they did from time to time. They have been a wing man/woman for each other several times now. That night she had been a wing woman for him. He was chatting up a cute blonde. Things looked to be going well for him. He gave Bebe a wink.

She gave him a thumbs up, studying the two continuing to flirt. The girl was cute and petite, and appeared to be hanging on Leo’s every word. He seemed interested, and they looked cute together.

Her stomach grumbled. Was it the foreshadowing of her monthly monster coming to wreak havoc on her life for the better part of the week rearing its ugly head early?

Bebe winced at the pair. Tears filled her eyes.

What was that feeling? She didn’t like it. Had to be the cramps. She shrugged it off.

Her work was done for the night. Leo had settled her tab, and would be leaving shortly with Ms. Blondie.

Bebe headed for home herself, the weird feeling still tugging at her heart, her stomach still feeling a mess.

She didn’t hear from Leo for a few days.

Until he texted her late that afternoon.

‘Sup Girl?’

‘Nothin’ much.’

‘Can I come over?’

‘Not in the mood.’

‘I didn’t ask for that. You know we have emojis for that.’

She laughed.

‘Not tonight Leo.’

Thirty minutes later there was a knock on her door. Bebe dragged herself off the couch.

Leo had two bags of goodies.

“I got you your favorite. Mint chocolate chip, some chocolate syrup, and your white chocolate kit kats you love, and there’s a meat lovers pizza on the way, and I got root beer and Funjuns.”

“Leo?”

“How did I know? As much as I’m around, I kind of know when you go M.I.A, and why. So can I come in?”

Bebe glanced down at herself. She was in a pair of dark gray sweatpants and a Hartfeld Heels tee shirt.

“You look fine, now let me in! This ice cream is going to melt.”

It was the first time Leo had been over to her place, not for sex.

“So what are we watching?”

“The Time Traveler’s Wife.”

“Ahhh chick flicks. Bring it on. I’m going to put this in the freezer unless you want it now?”

Bebe took the mint chocolate chip ice cream, and syrup away from him.

“We’re doing dessert first, I can dig it. So am I.”

Leo liked butter pecan and had brought himself a carton as well. He put the rest of the items on the table until the pizza arrived.

“I’m getting comfortable then alright?”

“That’s fine.” Bebe shouted when he walked into her bedroom.

Leo came back after a minute in her pink leopard print robe.

She shook her head at Leo.

“What?!?!?! I see why you bought it. I like the way it feels on my skin.”

Leo was truly something else.

“That’s probably the pizza.” He went to the door in the robe zero fucks given. Bebe roared in laughter. Leo just didn’t give a damn about anything.

Bebe found herself fishing for details. “So I thought you’d be hanging out with Miss blondie.”

“Meh. Maddy was alright. But she really didn’t have much of a personality. I won’t be seeing her again. Why were you jealous?”

Bebe shrugged it off in a nonchalant way. “No. Not at all.”

“Trying to keep Mr. not all of him is fun sized for your own personal enjoyment?”

She hit him laughing. She nudged his shoulder.

“Thanks for coming over and hanging out with me.”

He nudged her back. “Anytime.”

He put his arm around Bebe and both focused on the movie. Later she relaxed to resting her head in his lap. He softly played in her hair.

She heard Leo sniffling towards the end of the movie.

She glanced up at him.

“Leo, are you crying?”

“No.” He quickly wiped his eyes.

"The tin man really does have a heart."

"It's a sad story okay. Why couldn't they just live happily ever after?"

"That's not the way life is."

"It should be. You should be able to be with the one you want. That wants you."

She sat up looking at Leo.

Bebe giggled. "When did you become such a hopeless romantic?"

Leo softly stroked her cheek.

Bebe stopped giggling abruptly as she gazed into his eyes.

There was so much fire and passion in Leo’s eyes, that Bebe gasped.

Leo’s signature smirk crossed his face, as he leaned in and claimed Bebe’s lips that were in a seductive pucker for his own.

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#bebepac writes #short leo #the meet #before the greek meat #trr au #trr fanfic #trr fandom #no royals #trr liam #trr leo #trr jilian #trr bebe #trr madeleine #wacky drabbles #choices fic writers creations

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forever-rogue · 4 years

Text

A Good Man - Part 1

A/N: So...this turned out to be much more than I intended. It’s not a one off, oh no, could I ever really do that? It’s going to be three parts (and yes, I am committing to three and three only before this gets away from me), and yes I guarantee you there will be smut. You can’t have professor Javi without some smut, after all. Shout out to the amazing and lovely @rosetophighlander for listening to my ideas and inspiring me! As always, comments and feedback is welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged let me know! xx

Pairing: Professor! Javi x Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: none

A GOOD MAN ‘VERSE MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

JAVIER MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Javier Peña was a good man. At least that’s what he was trying to convince himself. He was a good man with a bad past. A past he had pointedly left behind in Colombia. But even now, years later, memories haunted him at night - it wasn’t a regular occurrence, but it was often enough. Enough to have him startle awake, drenched in sweat as his chest heaved up and down. Enough to make him feel like a bad man again.

But that wasn’t him anymore - no. He was a bad man then and he was trying to rectify that now by being a good man. He was a good man, and what was in the past was in the past. It didn’t matter it anymore; he had to bury it and let it die. But every time he thought he had, he still found himself plagued by the memories. Shit.

He’d returned to Texas when everything was said and done, and taken up a post as a university teacher. It was boring; drool, but most importantly, it was a safe bet. A college professor, who would have thought? If you would have told him this a few years ago while he was in the midst of the drug war trying to bring down both Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel, he would have laughed in your face and told you to fuck off. But that was then, and this was now, a very different reality with a very different version of him. Well...no. Javi was still Javi underneath it all, the same man he had always been, he was just trying to be the best man he could be. Trying to make right what in his head claimed made him so bad.

He was regimented now, almost to a fault, keeping up a routine that claimed most of his mind that wouldn’t let his mind wander too far off track. Gods, he needed a therapist. He knew he did; it was forever on his to do list. Forever the one thing he would get to eventually because it wasn’t pressing enough. Forever the thing he would do when he had more time. Instead he found solace, a small sense of reprieve in his small four-legged friend.

He was a small, wiry thing with ears that always seemed perked up, colored like sweet milk and honey, affectionately named Stevie, much to Steve Murphy’s chagrin. He served as a good distraction and pseudo-therapist for all that seemed to bother the ex-DEA agent. Sometimes Javi felt bad about how he confided in his little friend but Stevie loved him back all the same, showering him in affection whenever he could.

His routine was the same almost every day, allowing for some variance on weekends. It was strict, almost authoritarian but he had come to have a certain reverence for it. Up at six, out for a jog or walk with Stevie, breakfast for the two of them followed by a shower, at work by 9, a morning class full of mainly bright eyed freshman, followed by office hours where he would check on the dog and then return to eat his lunch by himself, almost always a sandwich, coffee, and some sort of berry, two afternoon classes of disinterested juniors, seniors, and those who seemed to never leave college, followed by a few hours of paperwork and grading before arriving home between six and seven, followed by a simple dinner for himself Stevie. To pass the time he’d read or watch a movie or show, but it was almost always lights out by ten. Sometimes he’d fall asleep quickly, other times it would take him hours. Hours of his brain buzzing with repressed thoughts and emotions that he put off until he fell asleep and repeated his routine the next day.

Weekends allowed for some flexibility instead of the monotonous rigidity. He let himself sleep in longer, go for a long walk with Stevie and have a leisurely lunch, and laze about the house. Sometimes he’d meet up with a friend, usually a coworker from another department and have a drink or two, nothing too excess, before turning in well before midnight. On the rare occasion where he felt restless enough and couldn’t be alone with his own thoughts, he’d go and take himself to a movie, a play, a museum, something that would keep his mind occupied. But by Monday morning he was back to routine. Back to that rigid pattern that kept him on track.

And it had been enough. It had to be enough...right?

»»————-　♡　————-««

Teaching at his alma mater of Texas A&M in the sleepy town of Kingsville had proven to be both a curse and a blessing. When he’d left the DEA, unsure of what to do, what do he really wanted to do with his life now, he had turned his attention back home. One thing had let to another and, surely with some help from his former cohorts at the DEA, he’d lined himself up a fairly easy teaching gig. It wasn’t anything he had ever really given much thought to, but just like his routine, it had become familiar, mind numbing, and easy. It didn’t take much before it had become part of his regimented life.

He enjoyed the almost anonymity of it all; no one really knew who he was, the things, both horrible and great, that he had done, no one knew his previous reputation, no one judged him before they had the chance to meet him. He was, first and foremost, Professor Peña. The students came and went; no one questioned who he was truly was and he never offered. As far as his students were concerned, he offered them the tiniest shred, if any at all, of his personal life. It had it easy - simple - to keep things strictly business.

There had been a few times, a few moments when his heart had almost stopped, that a student would stop by his desk after he’d dismissed everyone and ask him his past. It hadn’t been more than maybe four or five in total, but it had still brought a grimace to his face each time. But instead of completely dismissing anyone, he’d politely decline to answer anything beside easy questions, the kind that were of public knowledge.

Otherwise he insisted that if they ever have any questions related to the course, exams, or homework, they were welcome to come to see him during his office hours. He had a presence about him, not intimidating per se, but firm and strong that usually deterred people from questioning him any further. They almost never came to his office hours; pretty much no one did. Which was completely fine by him because it always gave him a chance to stay on top of the mountains of paperwork the university imposed on everyone.

Much to his chagrin, however, this year the school’s newspaper had decided to start a professor spotlight column in their monthly magazine. Something about connecting students and professors and creating more of a sense of community. A load of bullshit, was what he thought, but he didn’t push the envelope. He wasn’t trying to ruffle any feathers, to step on anyone’s toes; no, he aimed to blend in. But something about having been the man to help bring down Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel made him a subject of interest; naturally it was only a matter of time before eager, hungry eyes were turned to him.

But Javi knew he couldn’t really decline, it would have been against decorum and he wanted no eyebrows raised in his direction. So, he answered the curious student reporter’s questions with basic answers, just enough to give a taste and satiate them, but not enough to have to dig deep. He let them take his picture, let them publish it in their magazine, hoping that not many students would actually read the column, and just gloss over it. He wasn’t sure if he could handle tons of students only signing up for his class for him. He had not plans on indulging them any further into personal life.

But his routine, regimented schedule was all fine and dandy, and surely he thought they would be enough. They had to be enough, right? That’s what he thought. Surely the monotony of teaching countless students would be enough; that’s what he had come to believe anyway. It had worked out for the two prior years, surely it should have been the same going into his third year there.

Until the day you stepped into his classroom on that first day of that brand new semester and school year. You weren’t like the others...you looked excited, alert, like you actually wanted to be there. Like you wanted to listen to him teach. Like you cared. The swarm of students surrounding you barely looked alive, but you did. There was a certain magnetic charm that you possessed that happened to draw in everyone around you, including the man at the front of the room. The man that was determined to adhere to the strict routine that he had concocted for himself; the man that vowed he not stray from his class structure. The man that so desperately just wanted to be a good man.

He hadn’t noticed you at first, keeping his gaze focused on the papers and stacks on his desk, picking up the roll call sheets and running through them with a sense of disinterest. Name after name of students that probably just took the class because they needed some sort of credit. They responded in voices that were barely audible, tones that strongly suggested that they did not care whether he made a note of them being in attendance.

But when he got to your name, calling it out softly, and he heard you confidently and happily respond with a loud here, his deep brown eyes almost jumped out of his sockets. He paused and looked up, taking a moment to push his thick, dark rimmed glasses up his noise, before searching for you in a sea of students. But he knew he had found you when he spied the beautiful face beaming back at him. You offered him the biggest smile he had ever seen within the confines of the small lecture hall.

He was momentarily phased, but the corners of his mouth lifted up slightly as he returned your brilliant smile with the best he could muster up. But before he could get too caught up in anything, even a singular thought that roamed freely, someone loudly coughed and snapped him out of his trance. Quickly switching back to his professor mode, he looked back at the roster and called out the rest of the names, tic marks and blanks boxes galore down the long sheet.

Like his life, his class structure was regimented, and while he thoroughly enjoyed history, he found it difficult, tedious even, to drone on about pre-revolutionary war America for hours. Sometimes it was enough to make his eyes almost glaze over; while it annoyed him that it got to his students as well, he couldn’t always blame them. But there was something about today, the way that you had smiled at him, that sent a spark off deep within him, and something just snapped. He found himself moving more about the lectern, his hands waving more animatedly as he gave his introductory lecture, and most importantly of all, he found himself stealing glances at you. And you met his glances, almost in a challenging way, never looking away when his gaze lingered a few seconds longer than necessary.

But, like everyone else, you were eager to pack up your bag and leave when he was finished and excused everyone. You glanced at him a few times as you slid your notebooks and textbook back into your satchel, wondering if you should introduce yourself, or hell, if he really even cared. But instead of acting on any impulses and potentially making a fool out of yourself, you hitched the bag further up your shoulder and left along with the rest of the crowd, letting them swallow you up and allowing you to blend in. It was the end of the day, everyone was eager to get home, especially after the first day of the new semester. Javier was too; first days were always tiring just alone with administrative tasks and getting to know hundreds of new names and faces. But none of them mattered, not really, they were just more students in an endless sea that he would teach and then forget about as soon as finals were graded and returned.

But somehow...you stuck in his mind. Your face, your curious eyes and soft little smile were already burned into his mind. He found himself musing on it, on how intently you had scribbled down notes, even if he didn’t feel like there was anything to memorize, how your leg bounced up and down the few times your mind seemed to wander as you had glanced around the room, taking in the other students. A low sigh escaped his lips as he slid his paperwork, texts, and other items into his book bag before throwing it over his shoulder. He wasn’t going to let his mind get hung up on you, or anyone or anything else for that matter.

Sure, you were pretty, very pretty, but so were plenty of other students. He wasn’t going to lie to him; he could admit, at least to himself, when he found a student attractive. Sure, you had a smile that had spoken to something within him, but -no. You were one student in a sea of hundreds the had for the semester. You would forget him as soon as you turned in your final and went on winter break. He was sure of it. Javier Peña was trying to be a good man, and letting his thoughts go wild about a student was definitely not part of that plan.

When he got home that evening, he walked in the door and left his bag on the small dresser he kept in the hallway, followed by his keys and shoes before eagerly greeting Stevie. He’d stopped by between classes to take check on him, always making sure he had plenty of food, water, and pets before he had to go back. He glanced around the small kitchen, already pondering what he would make for dinner, knowing he was stocked up on everything he would need for the week. In his retirement from the DEA he had become a meticulous planner, something that easily kept his mind busy, and Sundays had become his grocery shopping days were he loaded up on necessities for the week. It was robotic and allowed for little free thought; routine, routine, routine.

But before he could flick on the soft kitchen light, his hand lingered on the switch, fingers drumming lightly against the plastic plate while he contemplated his next move. Instead of flipping it on, he dropped his hand and grabbed Stevie’s leash off of the counter-top, dropping to his knees as the small dog wagged his tail in sheer excitement at the prospect of a walk. He gave him a few pets as he clipped the lease on, making sure his large ears received a good scratch.

“What do you say you and I go and pick up some pizza, huh? We’ll even get some beer. Call it a guys’ night,” Stevie made a small sound of excitement, clearly acquiescing to Javier’s plan. He stood back up to his full height, his joints crackling lightly as he grabbed his thin windbreaker, wallet, and keys, slipped his shoes back on and walked out the door, his mind already on the pizza place a few blocks away. It wasn’t even anything he really gave too much thought to, it was most certainly not part of his plan. No, this was all new - a break.

It was the first Javier Pena had strayed from his evening routine in almost three years.

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as you stepped through the door of your apartment you let out a long sigh as you tossed your book bag onto the floor and stumbled into the living room, flopping face down on the well worn couch. Sarah, your closest confidant and roommate throughout your college experience, looked up from her book and with a small smirk on her face. She’s gotten out of her classes and finished for the day hours ago.

“First day was that good, huh?” she pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose, as you turned your head to glare at her. She was in her last year of school too but had been smart, so you’d come to realize, and taken more classes than she needed in earlier years so her last year would be a breeze. You envied her and wished you’d done the same; now you were stuck with classes that were long, tedious, and required more thinking than you would have liked.

“I don’t know how I’m going to survive this semester,” you admitted with a heavy sigh; you had no one to blame but yourself. It still didn’t make your little pity party any better, “today’s classes were...boring at best, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a teacher that cared less than my last one. The topic’s already not my favorite, clearly not his, and I have no clue how I’m going to survive the semester, and this stupid class was the only one open that satisfied one of my last requirements. I’m trying to be excited, you know, to trick myself into liking it, but I dunno if that’s gonna work out.”

“If it all goes to hell, there’s always next semester,” she offered with a shrug before closing her book and tossing it on the coffee table, “what class it is?”

“Pre-revolutionary war American history,” you groaned as she gave you a pained look. Nothing about any of the words that spilled forth from your mouth sounded even remotely exciting, “aka hell. Whoever decided that there should be a whole dedicated college course to this subject clearly wasn’t in their right mind.”

“Hey,” she said suddenly, slipping out of the arm chair and trekking into the small kitchen, before rustling through a static of old mail. She was silent for a few moments before letting out a small aha and grabbing something out before tossing it at you, “I thought that class sounded familiar. Isn’t the guy teaching it the one that in the teacher highlight thing for this month or whatever?”

“You actually think I read this?” you scoffed and took the small magazine, shifting through the pages as you tried to find what she was referring to you. You made it almost to the end before finding the small article hidden and tucked away at the back. Quickly skimming it, you found your professor’s small, grainy, black and white picture staring back at you, “Javier Peña. Yup, that’s him.”

“He’s hot,” Sarah quipped over your shoulder as you silently rolled your eyes at her. That was most definitely not why you had signed up for the class. While you weren’t about to admit you mirrored her thought, you couldn’t help but think she was right. There was something about the small photo looking back up at you that suggested he was...very attractive. Hell, you’d seen him in person, and could confirm. The few times you’d gotten a good look at his face, when he wasn’t bent over his notes or facing the board, you couldn’t deny that he was attractive. Tan, golden skin, thick dark hair and eyes, a handsome face. Yeah, he was hot, but you weren’t about to dwell on that, “do you think he’s single?”

“Sarah,” you groaned at her as you read over the article, surprised to find that was ex-DEA, having apprehended some of the most notorious criminals in recent history. He had seemed anything like the man they had discussed in the article when he had stood in front of the class earlier that afternoon, “that is not...no, that has nothing to do with anything. I just need to satisfy a few more credits in history and I’m done. That’s it; nothing more.”

“I’m just saying,” she shrugged before giving your shoulder a playful nudge, “a little eye candy doesn’t hurt. Especially when you’re taking a class like that. Good lord it sounds awful, I wonder how he got stuck teaching that. Was he as good looking in person?”

“Sar-ah,” you said with her namely slowly as you shook your head at her and sat up. She picked her book back up, a small playing across her features, “none of that matters. But, if you have to know, yes. He was very good looking, in that older guy kind of way.”

“Go on...” she feigned innocence but you could already see the gears turning in her head.

“There’s not much less to say,” you insisted, internally groaning, “wore glasses when he was teaching, white button up, I dunno, the average professor look.”

A damned white button up that had fit him perfectly, highlighting his broad chest, trousers that were slightly tighter than they needed to be, and a silver watch had sat on his wrist. Simple, effective, but yeah, a very good look.

“The average hot professor look, “ she sighed wistfully. The two of you, while best friends at heart, were polar opposites in many ways. While you namely cared about classes and just getting it done, she was more prone to getting lost in her daydream fantasies and pursuing matters of the heart, “I’m just saying! There’s nothing wrong with finding your professor good looking, as long as you’re respectful. Besides, he doesn’t need to know if you think about him at night or when you’re with a boy that you wish was a man like him. Besides, Javier Peña. Professor Peña. That even sounds hot.”

“Why are we friends?” you sighed as you rolled off the couch, a tone of amusement coloring your voice, “why are you the way that you are!?”

“You love me!” she called out after you as you made your way to your bedroom, deciding to get a head start on some work so you wouldn’t already fall behind.

“I’m questioning that,” you stuck your tongue out at her as you grabbed the magazine off the floor and took it along with you. You hoped she wouldn’t notice, but you were sure that her eagle eyed gaze wouldn’t miss a thing, “goodbye and good riddance!’

“Have fun staring at Professor Peña!” your cheeks felt warm and you were sure a deep crimson was already creeping into them. You remained silent as you grabbed your book bag and walked into the room, letting the door slam behind you.

Setting the bag onto your desk, you flopped on your bed as you reopened the magazine and looked back at the small picture again, re-reading the article. It didn’t say much about much him, or speak to who he really was. it was strictly related to business, just like he had seemed to be as he stood in front of the class and gave an almost two hour long lecture with no breaks. He didn’t seem much like a man that was running around and taking down criminals in the heat of Colombia. He had just seemed like a tired, worn out, disinterested man. A far cry from what was presented in the short little article.

And yet...you couldn’t help but think of the few times he met your eyes when he’d occasionally looked up from the board or his lecture notes. You swore there had been a smile on his face then, even if it was a small one, but then again, maybe you had been lost in your own delusions as you had watched him.

You’d even done your best to actively pay attention and take notes, both wanting him to know that you cared about class and because you knew it would be your downfall if you allowed yourself to miss anything. Even if it wasn’t your cup of tea, you wanted to give him your attention; it wasn’t his fault that it was a tiresome subject - someone had to each it after all. You’d felt bad as you looked at everyone around, all so zombie like and disinterested, looking like they would rather have been anywhere else in the world. You were sure he had noticed it too.

But you’d already decided to make an effort to actively participate in his class and do your best. You’d quickly scribbled down his office hours and told yourself that if you needed help or had questions you’d ask before you’d let yourself fall behind and struggle. Maybe he didn’t care, he didn’t really seem to, but you did. You somehow felt a need to prove to yourself that you could handle this class, and to prove to him that someone cared, that his efforts were worth it.

As you dogeared the page with his article on it, you closed the magazine and chucked it into your desk. You didn’t know what his deal was, or wasn’t, but you figured you’d be able to something out of him. Maybe learn more about the man from Colombia, and not just the professor that seemed so lost and wrapped up in his own head.

He had seemed so tired, so...run down that for someone reason it seemed to oddly affect you. Maybe it was because you had seen a glimmer of a smile on his face, watching as his dark eyes had crinkled up the few times he caught your gaze, how it almost reached them fully. Maybe there was more to him, maybe there was more to him than he had wanted to give out. But you were determined to find out what it was.

You were set that you would try and pull something out of Javier Peña, even if it was just a full smile. Something about him spoke to you, something had drawn you to something, causing an itch that you desperately needed to to scratch. And you sure as hell would.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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1K notes · View notes

libraryofloveletters · 4 years

Text

Love Story

You’ve been in love with your best friend since the day you met him. How long does it take him to realize that?

Luke Alvez x Reader

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of divorce, alcohol and some kissing

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 2.4k

Author’s Note: First Luke fic!! hope y'all like it :)

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12 years old.

That's how old you were when you met the love of your life.

It was September 13th and it was chilly outside, you were walking home for school and you stopped to zip up your sweater. Usually your mom picks you up from school but she had to work late that day. 4 boys came running down the street towards you. “Isn't it little miss no daddy?”

They always did this, every. single. day. Your father had left your mother for his young secretary, it was so cliche but it was true. Everyone knew, he paraded her around town like he hadn’t just walked out on you and your mother. From that day on, you kept to yourself at school and came straight home afterwards. You didn't have many friends, but not like anyone wanted to be your friend anyways.

Ignoring them, you continued walking, hoping that your legs would carry you fast enough. “Leave her alone!” and the sound of a punch caught your attention. That’s when you first laid eyes on him, standing there in a green sweater and black sweatpants, he walked over to you. His hair was curly and brown, his eyes were a beautiful shade of brown almost mocha like and they had this look, one that gave you butterflies in your stomach.

“I’m sorry about that, they’re so annoying” you stood there in shock. He looked like the popular kids, you wondered why was he talking to you? He waved his hand in front of your face “helloooo? anyone there?” he chuckled “Thank you” was all you could say

“I’m Luke”

“I’m y/n”

Luke walked you home that day, and everyday on from then. On the walk home, you discovered that Luke lived right down the street from you and that he was a year older than you. You thanked him again for standing up for you and for walking you home. He assured you that he didn't mind and asked if you wanted to walk to school together the next day.

By that summer, you and Luke were attached at the hip. He quickly became your friend, your best friend. He met your mother and she loved him like a son. She was so glad that you were making friends. Luke had invited you over for dinner that night, introducing you to his parents, who felt the same way about you as your mother did about Luke.

16 years old.

That’s how old you were when you realized you loved him.

Luke’s parents were out of town for the weekend, leaving the house all to Luke. Instead of throwing a party like a regular teenager, he invited you over for your monthly movie night. This was regular occurrence, it happened at your house mostly because your mom worked late and the two of you could watch without any interruptions but every once in a while, you’d have them at Luke’s place.

The clock read 11:05pm and Luke begged you to spend the night with him, claiming that he didn’t want any ghosts to come for him. You warned him that watching a scary movie wasn’t a good idea but you gave in. Calling your mom and tell her you’ll be staying with Luke tonight, she told you to be safe and tell Luke hello for her. Luke headed to the kitchen and you headed up to his room to borrow something to wear for the night. You pulled off your sweater and put on his soccer jersey, it read Alvez and the numbers 07 on the back. Your back was to the door when you bent over to pull off your jeans.

“All that just for me?” He joked, his voice startling you.

“Oh my god Luke! no” You shook your head and sat on his bed.

He laughed and sat beside you, two beers in his hand. He handed you one and knocked his bottle against yours. You smiled at him as you took a sip. “So, no pants tonight?” he shifted on the bed looking at you “as long as you don't mind, it’s so hot in here” The air conditioning had broken and his dad didn't fix it yet, leaving the two of you in the hot summer heat. “Oh I never mind” he squeezed your thigh, playfully. His touch always left butterflies in your stomach

You and Luke always had a very playfully friendship, but he was there when you needed him as you were for him. He was there for you when you got your appendix out, you were there when he cried about a bird flying into the window after getting his wisdom teeth out, he was there when you cried over your father leaving you and never looking back, you were there when he didn't know where else to go after coming home drunk. You both love joking around and acting like you were together when you weren’t. It hurt your heart to know what you could be but weren’t. You always hugged each other like it was going to be the last time you'd see the other.

You and Luke were now laying on his bed beside each other, looking up at his ceiling. His hand rested on your thigh and your arm was flung over his chest, somewhere between laughing and drinking, his shirt had disappeared as well. You turned on your side, looking at him, he slipped his arm under you wrapping itself around your waist. Your leg was now on top on him and your head was on his chest. He wasn’t fully asleep but his eyes were closed. The moonlight slipped through the cracks in his curtains, his eyelashes fluttered against his skin, his hair dishevelled. Your hand reached up, resting on his jaw as your thumb rubbing his cheek softly. He shifted his head slightly, kissing your palm.

“Goodnight y/n”

Goodnight Luke”

18 years old.

That's how old you were when Luke left.

Luke left home the year after he graduated. He was 19 and you were 18. You remember the day he told you he enlisted, your heart dropped to your stomach. It was only basic training, he promised you that he’d be home in a few months. He returned home with the news that he was being stationed in Iraq. Your heart dropped once again. Everything began running through your mind, what if you never saw him again ? what if he dies? what if he comes home a different person? what if he forgets you? You forced yourself to stop thinking like that when truthfully, you were heartbroken.

The morning before he left, you woke up at 6 and the two of you went for breakfast. You sat in your car, watching the sun rise together, one last time before he left, unsure if you’d get to see him again after this. He held your hand the entire time, you never wanted him to let go. You headed home with him, doubling checking he had everything. He stood on his front lawn with his parents, hugging them goodbye, he was trying his hardest not to cry. You hugged him goodbye and wished him well. You watched as he and his father pulled out of the driveway, standing there hugging his mom who was crying. you watched until you couldn't see the car anymore, praying that he comes home safely.

22 years old.

That’s how old you were when Luke came home.

You stood in the airport with his parents, watching as all the soldiers reunited with their families. Luke came into sight, he started running towards his mother giving her a big hug. She started crying and you couldn't help but smile at the two of them.

After saying hello to his parents, he came over to you, he picked you up and spun you around while hugging you. He put you down, the two of you stood there, arms wrapped around each other with no intention of letting go. Pulling away slightly, you looked at him taking in that he was standing in front of you again. He kissed your forehead, pulling you closer to him.

“I missed you so much” you mumbled, face in his chest

“I missed you so much, you don't even understand”

23 years old

That’s how old you were when Luke kissed you for the first time.

“Do you really have to go?” You sat on his bed folding a pile of t-shirts, he sighed at your question. “Yes I do, the F.B.I offered me a position has a head hunter, do you know how lucky I am to get that?” you put the shirts in the box, listening to him ramble about how great the job is going to be. You helped him carry the boxes down to his car. He had furnished his apartment right after he bought it. The two of you had spent the past few months driving back and forth to D.C to get his apartment ready.

He was ready to head out and you found yourself in the some position you did when he left for Iraq. You watched as he said hugged his parents goodbye, trying his hardest to pull away from his crying mother because she didn't want to let him go. He walked over to you and pulled you into a hug.

“I don't want you to go” you looked at him hoping he’ll change his mind and stay.

“I have to go, you know this”

His parents stepped past the two of you, saying that they would be back in a few minutes with something for him. The two of you stood there, in each other’s arms, his hands cupping your faces and your arms wrapped around his waist. He leaned down and kissed you. You kissed him back.

You couldn't believe it was finally happening. Pulling away breathlessly, he pulled you back into a hug, your face in his chest. His parents came back out with a huge photo frame. There were moments from your life together, a picture of your first playdate that your mom had taken, pictures from your prom and high school graduation, a picture of the 4 of you the day he left for Iraq and the day he came back, as well as one of the 2 of you cuddled on the couch asleep.

25 years old.

That’s how old you were when you moved to D.C and confessed your love

He knocked on your door, standing outside with a bottle of champagne and pizza. A little tradition of yours, you’d do it whenever either of you had a milestone. You did it when he bought his apartment, only fitting he did it with you. “Who is it?” you called out from the other side of the door “it’s me!” You opened the door, pulling him into a hug. He shut the door and came in placing the box and bottle on your coffee table. You walked to the kitchen to get two glasses, only to realize it’s too high up for you to reach. It was like Luke had read your mind, hearing his footsteps approach the kitchen.

“Is that my jersey?” he stood there looking at you.

You didn't even notice that you had taken it home with you after you slept over and never returned it.

“Does it have your name on it?” you questioned him sarcastically. He laughed, shaking his head. “I thought I lost that, but here you are wearing it 9 years later”

“Anyways can you reach the glasses ?” you jumped to show him that you couldn't reach it, the jersey lifting as you jumped. “Still no pants huh? it’s like we’re teenagers again” he laughed. You looked down to see that he was right, you had just gotten out the shower when he knocked on the door, not realizing you opened the door without pants. He took two glasses down and the two of you headed to the living room.

Half a box of pizza and a whole bottle of champagne later, you and Luke were cuddled up on your couch. His arm was around your shoulder and your head was on his shoulder.

“I love you”

“I love you too Luke” this was something you had been telling each other since you were young, you didn't think much of it.

“No, I mean it. I’m in love with you, I always have been. I don't know why it took me so long to tell you but I love you”

You sat there, you knew how you felt but you weren't sure how you could put it into words. “This is stupid, I’m sorry. Forget I said anything” he stood up as did you.

“It’s not stupid. I love you. I always have. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were the one for me. You stood up for me, that's something no one had ever done for me. My heart broke when you left for training, my heart broke when you left for Iraq. I didn't know what I would do if I lose you. You came home and left me again to come to D.C and I was happy for you. I really was but it hurt me to see you leave again. God why do you think I took the job here? I couldn't stand being away from you anymore.” you confessed everything to him.

27 years old.

That’s how old you were when you married your best friend.

After your late night confessions 2 years ago, you and Luke began dating.

Today was September 13th and you’re getting married to the love of your life today. It was only fitting you got married the same day you met. Today was much like the day you had met Luke, it was chilly outside and the leaves on the trees were different shades of orange, yellow and brown.

You and Luke stood at the alter smiling at each other, hand in hand.

“I do” he slipped the ring onto your finger

“I do” you mirrored his actions.

“I pronunce you man and wife, you may kiss your bride” Luke didn't hesitate to pull you in for a kiss.

And just like that, another chapter to your love story has come to an end.

#luke alvez #ssa luke alvez #luke alvez x you #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez x y/n #luke alvez smut #luke alvez imagine #luke alvez one shot #cm #cm onehsot #cm imagines #criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds oneshot

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bnha-butterfly · 3 years

Text

Autistic Dekusquad

If you want an indept character analysis of why I think Todoroki , Iida, and Deku are on the Spectrum @lost-caticorn does a wonderful job of covering it more eloquently then I ever could. I also did this in a newer way sooo yeah.

I talked about these 5 in THIS post but here is more about them

Deku

Autistic ambivert. His social battery is huge and he tends to have a lot of spoons but when he’s done he’s done.

Has comorbid anxiety

Sleeps with a weighted blanket and he literally cant sleep without it (his mom also definitely made some of the squares on his blanket All Might themed

Special Interest in All Might, Quirks and Heroes in general

Visual, Auditory and Tactile stimmer

Definitely has those soft chewable pencil toppers

Falls asleep to the same 5 hero videos. He just rotates between them constantly

Watches those All Might compilation videos and they’re his comfort videos

He’s a full body stimmer. He’s bouncing, he’s rocking, he’s tapping his foot. He just needs that extra bit of stimulation

I genuinely cant think of any tics he’d have.

Hyper sensitive tp auditory stimulus. Loud situations where he feels like he can’t hear himself talk make him anxious

has dermatillomania and picks at his hands

Iida

(lemme just say this boi is my partners favorite character literally b/c I remind them of him)

Extroverted autistic. Even though he’s extremely gullible and can misread social cues.

He lives for rules and structure. Definitely has a minimalist Bullet Journal that he schedules out his weeks in and uses to jot down any important information he needs for later.

He doesn’t adhere to anyone's morals but his own and prioritizes his morals over arbitrary rules (i mean just look at the stain arc)

Another full body stimmer

tactile and visual stimmer.

Hand/ arm motions are his thing. He has one LED tangle that Tensei got him at the beginning when he moved into the dorms

Probably the most open to trying new foods in the group

Hyposensitive to most sensory input

I feel like he’s so out going but as a kid everyone thought he was weird so nobody made friends with him and all he had was Tensei

So now that he has the Dekusquad he really loves and appreciates them and shows it by being the dad friend and like looking out for them.

Ochako

Another Autistic extrovert

Scripting scripting scripting

She scripts ALOT of everyday interactions she’ll have with random people she doesn’t know. Like she scripts her Starbucks order and when she calls for takeout

Least likely to stray from her safe foods.

Definitely has had Iida and Deku tell her she can’t just keep eating instant ramen over and over for dinner

I can se her having a special interest in Kawaii Jfashion. Things like Lolita and decora Kei even if she personally doesn’t wear the fashion

I feel like she has everything in her bag at all times cus she doesn’t wanna be caught without something she needs.

Literally has everything from perfume to hand lotion to a lint roller to like one of those tide to go pens.

Visual and Olfactory stimmer

Has slowly gotten an item of clothing from every member of the dekusquad and they only get them back when they no longer smell like them. (She just finds her friends scents comforting I know it sounds weird but like she’s not stealing there clothing they’ll like offer her a hoodie when she's cold or her and Tsuyu share clothing.)

Loves those paint mixing videos

Tsuyu

Introverted autistic but make it sassy and sarcastic

She only has a social battery with class 1A and a handful of other people

She canonically does raptor arms all the time

Hypersensitive to tactile stimulation especially when it comes to temperatures

Olfactory and tactile stimmmer

She likes scented slime/putty but she’s constantly buying new ones cus they always get dirty

Hypervigilant AF

Knows all the Dekusquads manerisms

Gives all the reality check talks and is BRUTALY HONEST

Genuinely the mom of this group

Todoroki

introvert mf autistic (no arguments)

Violent escapism fantasy (no i will not provided context for this)

Literally has 0 social battery unless hes sassing someone, pushing Bakugou’s buttons or with the dekusquad

0 comprehension of social cues

Eye contact who??????? never met her and will never meet her

Tactile and auditory stimmer???

He makes lil ice cubes and lil flames to stim. He likes the temperature variation.

GIVE HIM A POP TUBE AND HE’LL PLAY WITH IT FOR AN HOUR

He is body blind. Won’t realize he hasn’t eaten all day till someone reminds him or its late and he fells like he’s starving

Hypervigilant

Buys the squad literally anything they mention really wanting (on Endeavor’s dime of course) and just leaves them at their dorm room door

He doesn’t want the attention of them knowing its from him he just likes seeing his friends happy

Group stuff

Tsuyu reminds them to take breaks and to eat

Everyone knows the gifts are from Todoroki but they also know he doesn’t want the attention so they act like they have no idea where they come from

Much like the bakusquad they have movie nights too!! But they do it in Izuku’s room (Todoroki definitely bought a projector and like screen for movie nights)

Cuddle piles are a thing and they’re just super affectionate with one another. Todoroki takes a sec to adjusting to this be slowly he gets less stiff and is affectionate in his own little ways.

Iida has a list of everyone's safe foods and always makes sure they’re stocked up on it in the dorms

Deku gives the best hugs and will offer hugs on bad days.

Overwhelmed stay by Iida or Todoroki and they’ll keep other’s from bothering you or overwhelming you further

Ochako and Tsuyu have implemented a mandatory monthly Spa night. They do face masks and take turns talking about their special interest and whatever's bothering them. They also paint each others nails (yes the boys get their nails painted too even if its just clear polish)

Literally just a little autistic family unit

#morpho writes #autistic bnha #Iida Tenya #urakara ochako #izuku midoriya #todoroki shouto #I swear i make everyone stim with chewing and idk if that's just me projecting or....#tsuyu asui #Morpho Talks: characters on the spectrum

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send-me-your-hcs · 4 years

Note

Mafia boss Tony sends his son Peter away at a young age to live with his aunt and uncle. Every month he goes to visit his son. Maybe he takes Peter somewhere nice like the movies or Central Park. Without fail, their nights together always ends with Tony balls deep in a sobbing Peter. A support check arrives for Peter the next morning.

Oh fuck me I love this prompt. Ty anon

Warnings: Age unspecified Peter but IMPLIED very underage, incest, noncon, creepy dark bio dad!Tony, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

“You’ve grown.”

The boy sinks lower in his chair, attempting to hide behind the other side of the table. He still hasn’t looked Tony in the eyes once since he picked him up from the Parkers’. It goes beyond Peter’s regular shyness - the boy is fidgety, morose. A typical teenager, maybe. Except that he’s not.

When Tony gives him an impatient look, Peter meekly shrugs, responding without responding. He’s always been a very quiet boy, but the silent treatment is especially irritating. Tony takes a sip of his wine in an attempt to crush the feeling. Their visit’s only just begun. It’s too early to fight.

When the waiter comes to refill his glass, Tony says, “And one for him, too.” Peter looks up, shocked, adorably concerned, but the waiter doesn’t bat an eye as he fills the empty wine glass beside his iced tea. This isn’t the first time Tony’s brought his son here. Even if it had been, everyone knows they’d lose a lot more than Tony’s business if they dared refuse his request.

Peter stares at the glass once the waiter leaves. Tony smiles at him as he sips his own, but the boy’s gaze is fixated. “Drink up,” he orders softly, watching the worry deepen on Peter’s handsome face. He doesn’t move. “Drink it, Peter.”

The boy’s hands shake as he lifts the heavy glass to his lips. Everything about it reminds Tony how young his son is - the way his face scrunches up at the taste, the way he carefully lifts the glass by the bowl with both hands, not trusting himself to use the stem. The way his hands look terribly, unbelievably small, his fingers short and thin as they wrap around the wide bowl beneath the rim. He truly is just a little slip of a thing. Bigger than last month, sure, he’s at that age. But only just starting the long ascent into adulthood.

It’s only been a month since they last saw each other, but already, Peter’s hand-me-down clothes are fitting just a little better than they were before, not as loose and baggy around the ankles, not hanging as low down his thighs. The Parkers tried to dress him up, as they always do, but they seem to have some aversion to using Tony’s money to buy his son nice things. The button-up shirt and dress slacks they wrapped him in are clearly Ben’s, trimmed and hemmed amateurishly to fit tighter on Peter’s skinny body. Any charm the look has is only attributed to the fact that it’s Peter wearing it.

“Apparently I need to take you shopping,” Tony muses, mostly to himself. “Drink, Peter. We’ll have a different wine when dinner is served.”

Peter takes a long, deep breath through his nose and lifts the glass to his lips again, then steels himself and gulps the rest of the burgundy liquid down. Tony chuckles, pointedly not mentioning that the alcohol is going to hit him much faster now, and lets the boy go back to sulking, tense and silent, in his chair.

—

After dinner, Tony loads a wobbly, light-headed Peter into his car and drives him to the Hall of Science. Peter is a little more animated as they walk around and take everything in, but Tony suspects that’s mostly the alcohol’s doing. The boy still hasn’t said much and he shies away when Tony wraps an arm around his shoulders, flinching at the contact. Tony buys him a little souvenir at the giftshop and ruffles Peter’s hair when the boy mumbles a quiet thank you.

They don’t say a word on the drive to the hotel. Peter’s never once asked why Tony doesn’t bring him to the penthouse during their visits, and Tony’s in no hurry to tell him. If the Parkers have told his son what he truly does for a living, behind the scenes, Peter’s never acted differently for it. He’s still the same sullen little boy he’s always been.

The room Tony rented is a bright and vast penthouse suite that costs more money per night than the Parkers pay for their monthly mortgage. The California King bed stands in the middle of the main room like a centerpiece, drawing your gaze to it as soon as you walk through the door. Tony suspects that’s not the reason Peter hasn’t taken his wide eyes off it. He stays huddled in the foyer, fidgeting with the toy Tony bought him at NYSCI, looking terribly lost.

Tony pours himself a glass of scotch at the bar and pulls his tie free from his neck. “Come here, Peter,” he calls gently, watching the boy teeter and debate whether or not he should obey. In the end, he knows there’s nowhere else to go. He keeps his head down as he shuffles his feet forward into the room, like he’s dragging himself towards his father.

Tony sips his drink and looks the boy over. He’s growing up. Every month he gets more beautiful, his features filling out to define his gentle face. If he resembles anyone in their family, it’s Tony’s own mother, with that soft head of hair and big, dark bambi eyes.

He cups the boy’s chin, thumbing over his bottom lip. Peter’s eyes are already glazing over with tears. It makes Tony’s skin itch, all the little hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Peter has always been so receptive to him. Always reacting. Feeling. Submitting.

He takes the back of the boy’s head to hold him still, grip tightening ever so slightly as he leans down and kisses him.

—

Harsh, labored breaths ghost over the pillows Peter’s face is buried in. Tony trails kisses over his shoulder blades, hips still gently rocking as he rides out his orgasm. Peter’s knuckles are bone-white as they clutch the sheets, strangling the soft material for all he’s worth.

Tony pants against his son’s back. The silky clutch around his softening cock is absolutely divine; warm and dripping wet where they’re still sealed together. Peter’s back trembles as he struggles to hold in his hiccuping sobs, making his tight skin dance across Tony’s lips.

“My good boy,” Tony sighs happily against Peter’s glistening skin. He kisses him again and grinds his hips against Peter’s ass, grinning when the boy whines and shivers. “Did you get off, honey? Did you come for Daddy?”

Peter gives him a stiff, curt nod, but when Tony wedges a hand beneath his hips to his pelvis, he finds his cock still hard, the tip leaking. He clicks his tongue in disapproval and wraps his hand around the boy’s shaft. “Peter. Why are you lying to me? It’s obvious you didn’t come.”

“I don’t want to,” Peter slurs into his pillow, pleading. “I just wanna go to sleep now, Dad, please.”

“That would be rude,” Tony scolds, pulling back so he can roll the boy over. Peter is quick to bury his face in his arms, trying to hide his tears, as if it’s the first time he’s ever cried during sex, and not the norm. “Let Daddy make you feel good.”

The whimper that leaves Peter’s pink little mouth when Tony swallows him down is gorgeous. He encourages Peter’s hips to rock upwards, rutting against his face, until the broken sobs turn to pleasure-filled groans. Tony trails his lips up to the head of Peter’s pretty little cock and back down, sucking hard, smiling when Peter’s hips stutter, his orgasm fast approaching.

He pulls back in time to let the boy finish all over his cute little belly. Peter’s labored breaths return to quiet sobs, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip hard enough to pierce the skin. “Don’t do that,” Tony says, pulling Peter’s lip from his teeth with the pad of his thumb. “You’ll leave a mark, Pete.”

Peter drops his arms from his face. His eyes stay glassy with tears and glued to the ceiling as Tony wipes the come from their bodies with Ben’s old dress shirt.

“I’m going to give you a little extra this month,” Tony says as he tosses the filthy shirt away. “I want you to use it to buy something nice to wear for next time. Don’t let May talk you into buying something big enough to grow into - I’m going to give you extra for a tailor, too. I want you to see one before I pick you up next month. Got it?”

Peter says nothing, his gaze still stuck to the ceiling. The goddamn silent treatment. Tony snaps his fingers in front of the boy’s face and says, “Pe-ter. I’m talking to you. Did you hear what I just said?”

A shiver wracks the boy’s body. He turns his wet-eyed gaze back to Tony’s face and nods, sullenly.

“Good. And you’re going to be a good boy and do as Daddy says?”

There’s a beat of hesitation. Then another nod, Peter’s lips parting so he can softly mutter, “Yes, Daddy,” before closing his eyes and turning away.

#starker #tony x peter #tony stark x peter parker #ru answers #anonymous

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amylillian22 · 3 years

Text

Quarantine (Part 2) - Chris Evans Imagine

Summary: Chris notices there’s something wrong with Y/N when she comes home from work. When he looks at the calendar, he realizes it’s that time of the month. He decides to do everything and anything that will comfort her.

Word Count: 1,604

Warnings: FLUFF!!!!

Author’s Note: I hope y’all enjoy all the cuteness in this imagine!

[Part 1] [Chris Evans Master List]

Y/N turned off the car in Chris' two car garage. She grabbed her purse and grunted as she walked to the door that would lead to the washroom. She stripped her clothes and dumped them in the open washer. She had noticed Chris had already put in his clothes. She turned on the washer and put some laundry detergent before closing the washer. She grabbed the bottle of Lysol and sprayed the bottom of her shoes before slipping them into the shoe rack by the door. She sprayed the inside of her purse, her car keys, and her work lanyard with her ID. Placing the Lysol back in place, she grabbed a disinfectant wipe and wiped down her watch and phone. She mentally double checked everything off she was supposed to get rid of and disinfectant before entering Chris' house. Although it wasn't her house, it was a system they both came up with when they both returned to work still in the middle of a pandemic. She closed the washroom door behind her and made her way across the kitchen, where Chris was in his underwear fixing up dinner. His hair was wet and his chest was glistening with a thin layer of sweat. "I just got out of the shower and thought I would get started on dinner," he said as he turned on the stove. "Any special request?" "Whatever you want. I don't really care," she said slightly annoyed without looking at him. "I'm getting in the shower." Chris furrowed his eyebrows as he saw her walk away. Since their first sexual encounter a couple of months ago, the two couldn't keep their hands off each other, making up for lost time not having sex throughout the pandemic. They had become used to flirting and teasing. So, he was a bit surprised when she didn't even so much look at him half naked in the kitchen. He turned around to his fridge to get the chicken out, only to see the calendar right in front of him. He saw the date and immediately knew why she was annoyed today. "Good thing I went to the store today," he mumbled to himself as he decided to change the dinner menu to her favorite comfort food, Mac and Cheese. Back in her room, Y/N walked to her bathroom and saw the empty box of tampons on the countertop. She let out a frustrating groan knowing she forgot to go to the store after work to pick some up. She opened the cabinet underneath her sink for an overnight pad, thinking that'll have to do for the evening until she can go to the store tomorrow morning before work. She gasped as she saw two bulk boxes of tampons in two different sizes. She grabbed one of the boxes and opened it. She furrowed her eyebrows, trying to remember when she bought them. "Could he have?" She whispered to herself. "No," she shook the silly idea out of her head. She quickly got in the shower and let the warm water relax her muscles. A few minutes later, she dried herself and got dressed. She walked to the kitchen to see Chris dressed in sweats and a long sleeve. "Perfect timing!" He beamed. "The Mac and Cheese is ready. I went to the store earlier today and also got you a few things-" "Like tampons?" She asked, now that he mentioned he did go shopping. "Yes. I wasn't sure on the sizes, so I got you both. I hope that's okay," he looked at her, scanning for any facial expression that might say he screwed up. She nodded with a small smile, "both sizes are fine. As Amy Schumer says, 'your flow changes and so should the size of your Tampax!'" They both laughed as they had seen that commercial a million times while staying home. "And to think, I was so close to book that commercial. They said I was great, but didn't quite fit the character they were looking for," he joked. Y/N chuckled. "In all seriousness though, thank you," She said sincerely. "You're very welcome. I was a little nervous I might have bought the wrong ones. Glad to know I didn't," he smiled back at her. "Anyways, I also got a box of your favorite candies. The popcorn is in the microwave as we speak. I figured we would watch a Disney movie and eat dinner in the living room tonight." Y/N eyes welled up at the sweet gesture he had done for her. "How did you know?" "Well," he walked towards her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "We've been quarantining together for almost the entire year. I think I've picked up on certain things. Like when Aunt Flo comes to visit and what comfort foods you like when she's in town for her monthly visit." Chris pulled her in for a hug as he noticed more tears filled her eyes. "What's wrong? Did I do something wrong? Did I miss something?" "No," she mumbled against his chest, hugging him back. "It's perfect. These are happy tears." Chris let out a soft chuckle before he kissed her forehead. "Did you really just say Aunt Flo?" Y/N pulled back. Chris let out a hearty laugh, rolling his head back. "Yes, clearly I regret it now. Let's eat." Chris grabbed their bowls of Mac and Cheese while Y/N grabbed two water bottles from the fridge. Chris gave her the Roku remote, letting her decide which Disney movie she wanted to watch on Disney+ as he went back to get the candies and popcorn. They both sat cross legged on the couch and ate their Mac and Cheese as Oliver and Company started playing. Once they finished their dinner, they munched on popcorn and chocolates. Halfway through the movie, Y/N turned around and faced Chris. "Can I ask for a small favor?" "Anything," he said, his eyes still on the movie. "Can we cuddle?" Chris' head turned to her, double checking if he heard right. "I know it's a silly question, but I'm just in a mood for some cuddling. If you don't want to, I can ask Dodger." Chris' lips formed a small, sincere smile as he repositioned himself. Y/N got up as Chris laid down. She hoovered over him before she fit herself between him and the couch. Chris wrapped his arms around her after Y/N pulled a blanket over them. "Is this okay?" He asked. She snuggled closer to him, resting her cheek on his chest. "Better than okay," she mumbled. "Thanks." "Anytime," he kissed the top of her head. Chris' phone rang on top of the coffee table. He grabbed it and saw his brother's picture on the screen. It was an incoming FaceTime from Scott. Y/N saw it and said he should take the call as she paused the movie. "Sup bro?" Scott immediately asked once Chris accepted the call. "Watching a movie," Chris kind of held the phone at an angle to where Scott couldn't see he was cuddling with Y/N. "What? No hot sexy date with your girlfriend?" "Scott-" Chris started but couldn't get a word in as Scott continued. "I'm surprised. It seems like you're always busy with her almost every night. Although if you say she's the best you've ever had, maybe I can see why you never answer when we call you in the evenings-" "For the love of God, Scott, shut up!" Chris' cheeks grew hot as small beads of sweat started forming on his forehead. "What?" He asked, confused. Chris sighed as he moved the phone for Scott to see. Y/N smiled widely as she rested her chin on Chris' chest. She gave Scott a small wave. "Shit," Scott mumbled to himself, realizing he let a secret out as he saw Y/N was with Chris. "Ok, I'm gonna go hide because I feel like Chris is gonna go on a man hunt for me. Bye!" Chris groaned as he dropped his phone on the rug, unable to look at Y/N. She smiled as she trailed two fingers up his chest, "I have two questions for you. One: why does your brother think I'm your girlfriend?" "Because I may or may not have mentioned you..." he trailed before his lips formed a smile that gave away his lie. "Okay, maybe all the time." "Uh, interesting," she nodded, his smile made her smile as well. "And, two..." she cupped Chris' cheek and moved him to face her. She looked deep into his ocean blue eyes and whispered, "Am I really the best you've ever had?" Chris swallowed hard, his Adam's Apple bobbing up and down slowly, before he nodded once. "I know it was only supposed to be a friends with benefits kind of thing, but I don't know. I kind of caught feelings in the midst of things." She stood on her hands and leaned down to kiss him. Chris was taken back but quickly kissed her back. His hand slid to the back of her neck as she slowly lowered herself on top of him. The kiss was sweet and tender, perfect for their first real kiss. She cupped his cheek as the kiss deepened, ignoring the tickling sensation his beard gave her palm. Her toes curled as Chris ignited the buttleries in the pit of her stomach. Chirs slowly pulled back and pecked her lips once more before she rested her forehead against his. Their chest heaved against each others' as they tried to catch their breath. "Not that I didn't like it, because I loved it, but what was that for?" Chris whispered against her lips. She smiled at him as her thumb traced his cheekbone. "Because somewhere along the way, I also caught feelings for my boyfriend." Chris chuckled before he leaned in and kissed her once more.

#chris evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans imagines #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fan fiction #Chris Evans x reader #chris evans x you #Chris Evans fluff #chris evans fanfic #Chris Evans fan fic #Chris Evans master list

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kiwi-stan · 4 years

Text

Crave

Description: AU Harry’s a struggling songwriter until a song about being in lofe with his best friend puts him on the map. My contribution to the pick your poison challenge that @oh-honey-styles @for-fucks-sake-h and @andwhenshesays organized. I haven’t written in so long but this has been a fun way to get back into it now that I have more downtime!

Warnings: None aside from me taking liberties with the process of how writing a song actually works

Harry’s family had thought he was insane for dropping out of university and moving to LA to try songwriting professionally. And a few years in, he was starting to think that they were right. He hadn’t expected to start working with big names right away, but after two years, he had been hoping to move beyond indie artists who had about a thousand monthly listeners on Spotify. Songwriting was his dream. He loved music, loved creating it, but didn’t want the fame. The inability to step outside without being recognized, the scrutiny, the media attention. He wanted to stay behind the scenes. But he was beginning to think about packing it up, moving back home, and finishing his college degree and getting some boring office job. Until you called and announced that you had found a job in LA after graduating and would be moving.

You’d been Harry’s best friend since you were both small, when some little boy knocked you off the monkey bars at the park and Harry’s protective instincts-already sharp even back then-had rushed over to check if you were okay. There had been a few awkward years in middle school, when he’d been teased by friends for having a girl friend who wasn’t a girlfriend, but that had resolved itself during a very awkward party where you’d played seven minutes together and had mutually agreed that kissing each other was too weird. Aside from that, your friendship had been solid all throughout school, and had even weathered Harry moving to LA. In fact, you were one of the few people from his hometown that he’d kept in contact with. His parents had cut off contact (and financial support) when he’d dropped out of school without warning, and his emails with his sister were infrequent as she was trying to keep up a positive relationship with their parents. He didn’t really have any LA friends either, a few casual acquaintances but no one who he felt like he could really talk to.

On the day that you arrived, Harry drove to the airport to pick you up. By the time he navigated traffic and dealt with the nightmare of parking at LAX, it was nearly an hour after your flight had landed and half an hour after you’d sent a text saying that you’d claimed your bags. As he entered the terminal, he was worried that you would be angry about him being late. You never were the type to get annoyed about little things like that and from your video chats you didn’t seem to have changed all that much, but two years was a long time and it could bring about a lot of change in a person. He glanced around the room, full of happy reunions and stressed out men in suits setting out on business trips, when he finally spotted you, nestled in a corner and perched on your suitcase. It was like something out of a movie, how you looked up from your phone just as he spotted you, the two of you locked eyes, and you sprang to your feet and ran toward him, throwing your arms around him in an enthusiastic hug and squealing “Harry”.

“Sorry I’m late.” There were so many things he wanted to say to you, how much he missed you, how happy he was that you were moving, stories he hadn’t wanted to tell over FaceTime. But for some reason, an apology was the first thing that popped out of his mouth. “Traffic was horrible then I had to park…”

You pulled away from him to wave a hand, dismissing his apology and Harry got his first real look at you. He’d noticed from your Facetime chats that you’d changed your hair to a shorter style and that you’d started wearing more makeup, both choices that were probably seen as “more professional”. Otherwise, you looked about the same, but seeing you in person he noticed that there was a difference in the way you carried yourself. You seemed older, more mature, with the kind of confidence that he assumed came from graduating college and moving across the country on your own. He wondered if he had the same aura around him. “I missed you.” You said, picking up your suitcase and dragging Harry away from his thoughts. “And I cannot thank you enough for letting me stay with you.” You’d explained over FaceTime that the job you’d been offered had wanted you to start right away, not even considering that you would need time to deal with the logistics of moving or finding a place to live. Lucky for you, Harry had stepped in.

“I missed you too,” Harry took your suitcase from you, dragging it behind him and tugging it toward the exit. “And don’t say that until you see my place.”

*******

You’d been worried that things with Harry would have changed in the two years that he’d been gone. But as he took the long drive back to his apartment, you slipped right back into your old friendship, joking and swapping stories. You updated him about what all of your old high school friends were up to and he told you stories about all the weird LA types that he’d met. You’d never admit this, but you’d been worried that he might have turned into one of them since he left, burning sage and displaying an unhealthy obsession posting to Instagram. He seemed like his old self in texts and on your video chats, but you had thought he might be hiding that part of him. You were relieved to see that Harry was still his old self. However, a new set of worries about Harry sprouted as he turned into his neighborhood.

Harry had alluded to money troubles while you’d been apart, so you had known that he wasn’t living in Beverly Hills. However, you also weren’t really expecting dark streets, abandoned buildings, and liquor stores with bars over the windows. Harry parked outside a seedy looking building and led you up to his apartment, which was the size of a shoebox and overwhelmed with cardboard boxes full of your things. He’d been nice enough to tell you to ship some of your things to his address, though he hadn’t mentioned how tiny his apartment was. By the time Harry had cleared everything off the futon so you could sleep, you’d seen three roaches scurry across the floor and you’d made your mind up.

“Once I find a place you’re moving in with me.” Harry opened his mouth to protest, but you held firm. “Don’t argue. Why didn’t you tell me you were living in a shithole?” You glanced around the small space and another problem occurred to you. “Where exactly are you planning to sleep?”

“The floor I guess,” He said, gesturing to the sliver of space near the lone window that wasn’t occupied by furniture or boxes.

You shook your head, thinking back to the roaches you’d seen and the shag carpet that probably hadn’t been cleaned since the 70s. “No way. You’re sleeping with me. It’s not like we haven’t done it before.” It might feel a little strange after your time apart, but back before he dropped out Harry had slept in your tiny twin bed in your dorm room tons of times, sometimes because he’d had a fight with his roommate, sometimes because he was drunk and your room was closer, and sometimes just because he was lonely. You couldn’t even count the number of times you and Harry had slept together platonically. However, a few hours later, when you finally nestled under the covers together-with Harry’s body pressed up against yours, he was big on cuddling (and the small bed didn’t leave you much room to spread out anyway)-you found yourself wondering why something felt different.

***********

Harry started writing a song that night, about being in love with your best friend. He didn’t have the whole thing right away, which wasn’t usually how he wrote. Usually inspiration came fast, and he could write a whole song in the burst of manic energy he got when it struck. The chorus came that first night when you slept together, about you pressed up against him in a city full of dark alleys.

The rest came to him slowly over the next few months, as you started your job and found a slightly better apartment to live in. With your entry level salary it wasn’t anything fancy, but it was in an area that made you feel safer and had two bedrooms, though Harry found that he slept worse without you near him and spent many nights tossing and turning before finally falling into a fitful sleep around 3 AM.

Though you’d been basically joined at the hip since you were young, you and Harry hadn’t shared space like this before. The apartment was still small, which meant that you and Harry were still constantly tripping over each other. Harry had thought it might be annoying, and had even worried that it would fracture your friendship, but it hadn’t. Living together seemed almost natural for the two of you. It meant that he could hear you singing when you came home from work, which meant that you had a good day and would be in the mood to cook something elaborate for dinner, or when you slammed the front door and he knew that you’d had a bad day and that he should order your favorite take out. He found your bobby pins all over the bathroom floor, he sat and watched The Bachelor with you on Monday nights, and he stole your fuzzy socks as the nights started getting cooler. Harry worked on his song while you were at work when he wasn’t at writing sessions for other people, and by the time he finished he felt that it was the best thing he’d ever written.

Harry knew exactly why the song (currently cryptically titled with an anagram of your name) was the best of anything he’d written so far. Typically he used a lot of creative license when he wrote, writing about things that happened to him long ago, about things that happened to friends of his, about completely made up scenarios, or anything that inspired him really. But he never really wrote about his own life. This was the first time, and it was his first song to really come from the heart.

After finally perfecting the song, Harry recorded a quick demo on his phone, then sent it off to Jeff, a big-name record producer he’d met a few months back. They’d met during a recording session for some pink-haired indie singer. Though Jeff hadn’t really liked the indie girl and her bananies-and-avacadies voice as he’d joked to Harry, he’d liked Harry’s writing style a lot. He’d slipped Harry his phone number and had told him to send along some of his strongest work. Harry had come close to sending a few things before, but had chickened out at the last minute. Nothing he’d done before was his strongest work, and he knew that. The song about you, he felt good enough to send.

Harry finally worked up the courage to press the send button during one of his sleepless nights. He hoped that Jeff hadn’t deleted his number, or if he had that he would be willing to listen to a voice message from a random stranger. Since it was nearly 1 am, he was surprised to get a message back almost immediately. Love it Harry. Let’s talk. Followed by a meeting time and location.

*******

A few weeks later, you arrived home (you had been surprised at how quickly you came to think of your new apartment in a new city as “home”, but you came to the conclusion that it was all because Harry was there) to Harry humming a song you didn’t recognize as he cleaned the apartment. He looked up when he saw you, dropping the broom and drawing you into a hug. “Hey!” He swayed you back and forth a few times as he held you. You had forgotten that little tic of his, but the motion reminded you of how much you loved it. It always made you feel safe and comforted, probably because it replicated the motion of a mother rocking a baby. And it was something Harry only did when he was really happy.

“What happened?” You asked once he let you go. Harry hadn’t seemed sad exactly, but you’d had the feeling that being isolated from his family and under almost constant money and career stress were starting to get to him. You hadn’t seen him happy like this since you were in college together and he aced a difficult Music Theory final.

“I think we should go out tonight. Somewhere nice-ish.”

This piqued your interest even more. Even combining your incomes, you still weren’t really on a going-out-regularly-in-LA budget. Something had happened. Something big. “Harry, tell me what’s going on.”

“I wrote a song a few weeks ago and The Heartbreakers want it.”

Your jaw dropped at the mention of the group who had shot to fame almost overnight a few years ago after one of their songs went viral on SoundCloud. Unlike some other indie groups that had scored mainstream hits and had faded to irrelevancy after a few weeks, The Heartbreakers had hired a good management team and were able to capitalize on the hit to become one of the biggest groups on the planet. “Harry, that’s amazing!” You threw your arms around him again. “But how? What? I didn’t even think you knew them? And I thought they wrote all their own stuff?”

Harry pulled back enough to look at you and gave a little laugh at all of your questions. His hands stayed around your waist, your arms around his neck. “That’s what they say. They use ghostwriters basically. I had to sign an NDA and got an advance that’s basically hush money.” You frowned, not really liking the thought that Harry wasn’t going to get any credit for his work. “Hey no, that’s just how it works sometimes,” He added, noticing your facial expression. “The music industry isn’t pretty. I knew that going in and I kind of expected it. Producers and other writers have their own kind of underworld. The important people will know that I wrote it. This will lead to more big stuff for me. I know. I wouldn’t have given the song away if I didn’t.”

Noticing that you still didn’t look happy, Harry was quick to change the subject. “As for how, I don’t know them. At all. It all went through this producer, Jeff, that I met a few months back. He wanted to hear some of my stuff, but nothing ever seemed good enough until I wrote this song. I sent it to him, he loved it and thought it would work with their sound. He took it to them and they wanted it. I’ve never even met them.”

“Will you get to?” You said, thinking that you would at least want to shake someone’s hand before handing off a piece of art that you created to them and letting them act like it was theirs.

Harry nodded. “I have to go in for a writing session and be there while they record in case they want to make any tweaks. Which they probably will. Change a word, get a third and all that.” Your frown returned at the mention of the unfair way that royalties were distributed. Harry noticed. “But this will still be really big for me. It’s the right move. I know.”

You studied him for a moment, looking for any sign of hesitation. “I trust you.” Realizing that you’d been holding each other for an awkward amount of time, and that it felt surprisingly good to have your best friend holding you, his big hands solid at your waist and your fingers toying with the curls at the back of his neck, you stepped away. “I’d love to hear it. Do you have a recording yet?” Harry looked alarmed. “What? Has the NDA got you scared?” You teased. Harry could be shy about sharing his work, but he’d always been open about it with you. He called you his guinea pig, you were often the first one to hear new songs.

“I just wrote it a few weeks ago. I got really inspired seeing you again, I guess.” Harry said, suddenly seeming shy.

“Harry that’s so sweet.” You asked, unable to keep the emotion out of your voice. No one had ever written or created anything for you before, and as far as you knew you hadn’t inspired anything either (aside from some crude messages in the boy’s locker room back in high school that Harry had taken a Sharpie to almost immediately after they popped up).

“But I can’t play it for you. I don’t own it anymore. I already signed it over.”

“Harry, we’re alone in our apartment. No one’s gonna know.”

“I know, I know.” Harry picked up his broom and went back to his sweeping, obviously nervous. “It’s a little unpolished though.”

“That never stopped you before.” Harry had played you things that were completely unfinished before, sometimes even when he just had a few chords together or two lines of lyrics.

“I really think the Heartbreakers will do it better than me. I think the first time you hear it, it should be their version.”

“At least tell me what it’s called.”

“It doesn’t have a name,” Harry said a little too fast. “Or at least right now. When it actually gets released they’ll find something marketable, I’m sure. Do you want to go to a club tonight, or just dinner?”

You accepted Harry’s abrupt change of subject and decided not to push it, but you spent the entire evening (both dinner and a club, Harry wanted to splurge since he knew his so-called hush money would be kicking in soon) wondering why Harry didn’t want you to hear the song.

*********

“So,” Jeff began as the final recording session for the song, which had been renamed “Crave” wrapped up. The Heartbreakers had left for the day, and Harry and Jeff had hung back to do some final mixing. Harry didn’t really need to be there either, but Jeff wanted his approval on the final version of the song and he seemed happy for the company. “You never told me who this song is about.”

“Who says it's about anyone?” Harry asked, trying not to sound harsh. Despite the fact that they’d been working closely together on Crave, they weren’t good enough friends where they could be quite so honest with each other.

“Every song is about someone. Especially ones this heartfelt.” Jeff let the song play once through. The Heartbreakers had changed very little lyrically, adding a lyric to the chorus about craving the person the song was addressed to (which was where they’d drawn the title from). They’d changed a bit more when it came to the music itself, switching from the indie playing-in-a-coffeshop vibe that Harry had intended, to a rockier sound. Harry thought it sounded much better that way, it was something that he wouldn’t have tried with such a sweet song, and he knew that he’d made the right decision in signing the song away. As the final songs of the song drifted away, Jeff turned to Harry again. “So I’m guessing it’s a lady friend of yours from back in school and who you once played seven minutes in heaven with,” Jeff began, referencing the first verse of the song where Harry had written about first meeting you when you were kids. “Who you now find yourself in love with because she sings like a lark when she’s happy, leaves bobby pins all over the place, and makes you chocolate milkshakes when you’re sad.”

Harry felt his cheeks heat up as Jeff named more details from elsewhere in the song, all things that pointed directly to your friendship with him. “My best friend from back in school. She just moved out here and we’ve been living together and...I don’t even really know what it is, if it was the time apart or if it’s different now that we’re older or because we’re living together. But yeah, I love her.” It was the first time Harry had said it out loud and it felt like a weight off his shoulders.

“Have you told her yet?”

Harry shook his head. “I’m worried about ruining the friendship.”

“Do you think she feels the same way?”

Harry considered it, how you had let him hold you for far too long the night he first told you about selling the song, how you always made spinach for him as a side when you cooked even though you hated it, how much your hands brushed when he took you on tours of his favorite places in LA, if those were all just friendly gestures or if it meant something more. “Maybe? But she’s probably thinking the same thing about ruining the friendship.” Harry knew you well enough to know that you were a little too pragmatic sometimes when it came to relationships.

“You should tell her.” Jeff regarded Harry with a serious look. “The second she hears the song she’s going to figure it out. The Heartbreaker’s last single was number one on the Billboard chart for six weeks and played on KIIS once an hour every day for a month after its release. You don’t want her finding out that her best friend is in love with her when she hears the song in Trader Joe’s. It’ll mean way more coming directly from you.”

*******

“Does this look okay? What do you even wear to a listening party anyway?” You asked, stepping in front of Harry and twirling around, letting him examine your dress.

Harry gave you a quick once over. “What you’ve got on is fine. You look great.”

The simple compliment sent a little rush of excitement through you, the saw way you felt when previous boyfriends had complimented you before you set out on a date. With you in your dress and Harry also dressed up, the two of you looked a bit like you were setting out on a proper date, but you stopped yourself from going down that line of thinking. There was no way to know if he felt the same way. You studied Harry instead, drinking in his slicked back hair, black shirt with the little white hearts on it, and black pants. Realizing that you were staring, you changed the subject.

“You’re sure it’s okay if I come?” A listening party seemed like something so secret, something that only music industry people got to attend, like the parties the cool kids threw in high school. But Harry had seemed excited when he invited you along, even though he’d had to present you with an NDA at the same time and had told you not to bring your phone or it would be confiscated at the door. The listening party was for people from the label and was being held a few weeks before the official release of the single, and preventing leaks was essential, Harry had explained.

Harry nodded. “Yeah. It’s gonna be real small. Just the band, some people from the label, me, and Jeff. All people who are already aware that they don’t write their own music.” Harry looked like there was something more he wanted to say, but instead he just pulled on his sport coat. “Ready?”

Harry was quiet for the drive to the private club where the party was being held, letting one of his Spotify playlists play as he navigated LA’s busy streets. He didn’t speak until he found parking at the club. You reached for the door to exit the car, but froze when Harry said, “Wait.” You waited. Harry took a deep breath before speaking. “I just want you to know that the song is about you. I just want you to hear it, knowing that, and tell me what you think after.”

You wanted to press for more information. That was incredibly vague, and if anything it just left you with more questions. But Harry was nervous enough, you could tell from the way he’d adjusted his hair several times during the drive and the fact that he was avoiding eye contact with you now. Not wanting to stress him out anymore, you decided not to push it. You leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, ignoring how natural it felt. Maybe it was just the dim lighting from the streets lights, but you could have sworn that Harry was blushing. “I’m sure I’ll love it. I mean, writing a song about me is already nicer than anything any of my ex-boyfriend have done.” You realized a few seconds too late that maybe comparing your best friend to your exes wasn’t the best move. “And everything else you’ve written has taken my breath away. I’m sure this won’t be any different.” You added, trying to cover the awkward moment.

Harry turned to you, looking happier and more confident now. “Let’s go.” He walked around to your side of the car and opened the door for you, even taking your hand to help you out of the car. Because no LA party could really start without time for networking first, you spent the first part of the party following Harry around like a baby duckling as he made his rounds to talk to the band and the industry executives. You’d been a little worried that you would feel like a fish out of water, or worse that Harry would leave you by the bar and make the rounds on his own. Harry had never been the type to social climb, but you were fully aware of the fact that this was his biggest career opportunity yet, so you weren’t sure how he would react. But you were worried for nothing, because Harry kept you by his side the entire night, introduced you to everyone by name, and tried hard to include you in the conversation, even though you were so starstruck most of the night that you ended up feeling tongue tied.

As someone from the label raised his voice to announce that they would be playing the song soon, Harry pulled you to a table and introduced you to Jeff.

“Ah, the famous muse,” Jeff shook your hand before giving Harry a knowing look. “Harry’s told you about the song?”

“Just that it’s about me. I haven’t heard it yet.”

“You’re in for a treat.” He told you with a smile, shooting Harry another look. Before you had time to further ponder what was going on, a label executive's voice at the front of the room drew your attention as he introduced “Crave”.

As the song played, you were blown away. Harry had written a beautiful song, and though you’d initially been worried about him giving the song away you had to admit that The Heartbreakers had done it justice. But what surprised you the most was that it was a love song, and every single word of the song pointed to you, to things you had Harry had done together or to your little idiosyncrasies. Harry loved you, and had for a while.

As the final notes of the song faded away, Harry grabbed your hand and pulled you outside the club, clearly wanting whatever happened next to be just between the two of you. You stood bathed beneath a streetlight, with drunks exiting nearby clubs stumbling past you. “So, what’d you think?” Harry asked, smiling shyly at you.

“Harry, I loved it. I love you.” You said, throwing your arms around him. Saying it felt so right, so natural, even though it was the first time you’d said those words to Harry.

Harry slid his arms around you and pulled you closer to him. “I love you.” He said quietly, before he pressed his lips to yours for a kiss that had been a long time coming.

#pypfc #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #i literally can't remember the last time i wrote something i hope this is okay #i just read another friends to lovers fic earlier that was so good and its got me a lil stressed about posting this #also me posting this at 3 am is very on brand for me

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aviss · 4 years

Note

Can you do a follow up on your unplanned pregnancy trope??

Hi Anon, it’s taken me a bit to get about it but here’s the continuation of the unplanned pregnancy short fic, I hope you like it.

"I'm going to be a father."

Jaime had the pleasure of seeing his brother choking on a mouthful of wine, spraying it all over himself and the table, red droplets staining the white cloth even as a waiter came to try to clean the disaster. Tyrion shot him a betrayed look, still gasping for air, and daintily cleaned his mouth with his napkin and apologized to the waiter before refilling his glass.

Jaime grinned, that had been the reaction he had hoped for. Had owed it to his brother since the time he sent Shae to him for pregnant care as his way of giving Jaime the same news.

Payback was a bitch.

"I didn't even know you were seeing someone," Tyrion said once he regained the breath to speak, still looking disgruntled. It was a good look on him.

"I wasn't, now I am," Jaime said, unhelpfully. He was enjoying this.

Tyrion narrowed his eyes at him. "Since when?"

"Going on two weeks now."

And what two weeks they had been, Jaime had been walking on a cloud the entire time, a smile carved on his face since the moment Brienne had confirmed what her paperwork said and that she wanted to see him again, to try a relationship with him.

Jaime had given up on ever finding her again, holiday flings were never meant to come up again and her leaving while he slept was possibly a kindness. He fell too deep and too fast but had never had that kind of immediate chemistry with any of the women he bedded, and very rarely had wanted a repeat performance. He had thought about her frequently since the end of his vacation, she had already left the Summer Island but Jaime had just arrived and the rest of the week he had spent there had paled in comparison with that day.

He had come back to work, and when he'd had his monthly dinner with his brother, Tyrion had taken a look at him and told him he didn't know how to take a vacation. "You look more miserable than when you left, I didn't think that would be possible." Tyrion got the whole sorry tale of it with the help of lots of wine. "Only you, Jaime, would travel thousands of miles and fall for a one night stand on the other side of the world. Only you."

"And she's already pregnant?" Tyrion exclaimed now, brows climbing up his forehead.

Jaime took a drink of his own glass of wine, his smile widening. "She's about five months along, four months and twenty-three days to be precise."

Four months and eight days of Jaime thinking about her, about where she could be and how much of an idiot he had been for not asking for her phone number or even her surname.

Two weeks of daily dates, spending all the time they could with each other, learning all the things they had not shared during their day together.

Jaime had learned she was named after the island with the waters as blue as her eyes, that Brienne was the curator of a medieval history museum and taught fencing in her spare time. She had told him, during their third date, that she had no living family but her friends filled that space.

"He would spoil the baby so much," she had said, eyes wet with tears and voice rough with old grief, and Jaime had held her tight and promised to do it in his stead.

Jaime had also learned that she was ticklish all the way down her right side but not the left, that she would scream and trash and come a second time if he kept pressing his tongue to her clit and his fingers inside of her as she came down from her orgasm, that her breasts were delightfully sensitive now, and that she loved being on top of him, holding his wrists and moving slowly until Jaime begged for mercy.

Had also learned her hair was untamable in the mornings, and that Brienne had a light snoring snuffle when she fell asleep in the couch after a movie and would startle awake because of it. She had cold feet she pushed ruthlessly against Jaime's legs at night, and was very grumpy in the mornings since she couldn't drink coffee. That her kisses tasted like ginger tea first thing in the morning and like home the rest of the time.

And that had only been two weeks, he couldn't wait to learn more things about her.

"You found her," Tyrion said, snapping him back to the present.

Nobody had ever accused his brother of being slow on the uptake.

"She found me," he admitted, telling his brother about how she had come to him referred by her doctor, how his heart had hammered against his chest reading the file and seeing the name Brienne. He had thought it would be just a coincidence, the name had become quite popular thanks to the Long Night books and show, and when he'd looked up and seen her there, just as tall and striking as he remembered, her belly not quite as flat as the day he had his tongue and fingers trace every inch of it.

"And you're sure it's yours? Didn't you use protection? You're sure she's not after your money?" Tyrion asked, the way Jaime knew he was going to. He might not care about the money or the family name, but his brother had always been wary of people associating with them because of it. With reason.

"We did use protection, but--" he trailed off, embarrassed. They had bought one of those vending machine condom packets on their way to Jaime's rooms but they had not been enough. When they had used them all and Jaime was raring to go again, he had remembered the old one in his wallet. He should have checked properly, it had been there for a long time, but he had been too tired, too horny, and a bit drunk on both wine and her skin. He had not been especially surprised when he had found it broken as he was cleaning the detritus around the bed the next morning but without a way to contact her there hadn't been anything he could do.

Tyrion's face did something complicated and then he started laughing so hard the people from the closest table glared at them. "Only you, Jaime." He shook his head, fondly exasperated, and took his glass again. "I've wanted to meet this woman since you came back from your holiday lovelorn and pining for a woman whose surname you didn't know."

Jaime thought of Brienne had she had been the day before, with her blue sundress and the flowers in her hair, looking radiant as she leaned to whisper in his ear. "Are you sure about this?"

Jaime had rarely been surer of anything in his life and he had just kissed her as a reply. "I already know how I feel about you, that's not going to change if we wait for a year."

She had smiled and kissed him while the judge looked at them with an impatient tilt of his mouth. "Let's do it."

"Lannister," he said now, laughing when his brother sprayed the wine over the table again and hoping Brienne was getting the same kind of reactions from her friends. "Her surname is Lannister."

…

#jaime x brienne #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #my fic #anonymous #prompt fic

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yeetingmyfeeling · 4 years

Text

The Book Nerd

Krii7y oneshot, requested by @arlyiahshay

One thing to know was, Jaren absolutely loved books. Despite his childish personality, he was a big nerd at heart. As a kid, his father would read him stories to put him to sleep almost every night. Whenever he didn’t, Jaren would throw a fit. When they did reading in his first few years of school, Jaren was always ahead of other people.

For presents, family and friends would always give him books. At the point of being a teenager, he had quite a few double ups. Not that he minded too much. Through the years, he got a job at a library. At several libraries in fact. It was one of his favourite jobs he’s had. He still works at a library, in Canada.

He works with one of his best friends, Evan. Evan and him hit it off quickly. Evan wasn’t as interested in books as Jaren was, but he still enjoyed listening to the shorter boy talk about them.

One fateful day, Jaren was dealing with a bunch of books. He was carrying a bunch of thick and heavy books, as some old people were looking at them then just left. He was struggling, quite a lot. He groaned loudly, his body feeling exhausted.

“Let me help you there,” Half of the books were lifted out of Jaren’s arms. Jaren blinked in surprise, looking up at the person. “Where are they going?”

Jaren flushed upon seeing the man in front of him. He was taller, and quite a solid build. His hair was long, down to his shoulders and it went from brown to blonde. He had lots of rings on his fingers as he held the books. Jaren swallowed heavily, blinking out of his daze. “Uh, this way.”

Jaren starts walking away, carrying his books. He heard the footsteps of someone behind him. He went to the old looking bookshelf and put the books on a little wooden table. The man put the books he was carrying on top. Jaren smiled and started putting them up on the bookshelf.

“Thank you.. Uh..?” Jaren turned to the man and raised an eyebrow.

“John,” Laughed the now named man.

“Thank you John!” Jaren grinned. “I’m Jaren. I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I’ve just recently moved here, so I wanted to come check out the library,” John explained. “Nah, my friend convinced me to come here because he’s meeting a friend.”

Jaren struggled a little to keep up, but nodded along. He went to put up the last book, but was a tad too short. John reached over, and their hands brushed. John put the book up on the shelf.

This was the beginning of John and Jaren’s relationship. At first they were simply just friends, enjoying each other's company. John would come and visit Jaren at the library all the time. John eventually manned up and took him on a date. They went out for a nice dinner, and they both enjoyed it. This led to more and more dates.

Every monthly anniversary, John would buy him a book. Jaren was madly in love with him past the six month anniversary. After a year and a bit, John asked him if he wanted to move in. Jaren very happily agreed. As they were moving in, John realized how many books Jaren actually has.

They ended up buying an apartment together. Nothing too fancy. Not too small, not too big. Though, with Jaren’s collection of books steadily building up, it would soon be too small. So far, their office was full of books. There was a bookshelf in the living room, their shared room, the guest room and the office. All of them were full. Some had a few of John’s own books, but mostly they belonged to Jaren.

The books just kept coming.

It was a late afternoon in winter, the cold Canadian chills getting to John. He was inside, wrapped up in his blankets on the couch. He had a cup of coffee in front of him on the table, steam steadily flowing from it. A movie was playing on the TV, he wasn’t too sure of what it was. Jaren had gone out with his friend and co-worker, Evan. They were used to the cold weather. John wasn’t entirely sure on where they went, but he trusted his boyfriend.

He heard the sound of keys in the lock, and the door opening. A few seconds of struggling before the door was pushed shut again. John pushed the blanket off him, shivering when he got hit with cold air. He walked out of the living room and to the entryway. He raised an eyebrow at his book addicted boyfriend.

Jaren stood there, three large bags in his hands. John didn’t have to ask to know what they were. When the shorter noticed the taller, he blushed and looked sheepish. John raised an eyebrow and gestured at the bags.

“Look..” Jaren started, a small giggle falling from his lips. “I couldn’t resist. I got all the hardcover copies of Harry Potter.”

“Don’t you already have copies of Harry Potter?” John questioned in bewilderment.

Jaren nodded. “I do. I have two different copies, and now I have three.”

John just groaned and rolled his eyes. “Where are these ones going baby?”

Jaren just shrugged. “Wherever they fit?”

This was not the last time that happened. It happened almost every second week. Jaren would never spend too much money, unless it was a really good book. He was smart with his money.

After around two years, they ended up getting married. John took him out on a date. They went out to a fancy restaurant, eating some delicious food. Then they went on a walk, Jaren had no idea where they were going. They ended up at the library. John led them in after Jaren unlocked the door.

They walked through the library, going to the back where the old books were. There were a bunch of candles set up and rose petals. Jaren gasped softly. “This is where we first met..”

John nodded slowly. He brought Jaren over to stand in the middle of the candles. He then got down on one knee, making Jaren gasp again, tears starting to build up in his eyes.

“Jaren. We have been together for four years now, and I am madly in love with you. I want to live the rest of my life with you by my side. You mean everything to me, and I am so glad to have you. You and your obsession with books keep me alive. So, Jaren Smith, will you marry me?”

“Yes!” Jaren shouted. John slowly slid the ring on the boy's finger. John stood up, and wrapped the boy up in his arms.

Half a year later, they had the wedding. Naturally, it was book themed. Jaren was happy, as he got to choose the theme. John decided on everything else. Everyone was happy for the young couple, buying them lots of gifts.

Jaren received several sex books from his friends, they were saying it was finally time he learned. He turned bright red when he looked through the books.

When they came back from their honeymoon, they started to look for houses to buy. They found a nice large one, with a large spare room to turn into a library. It was two stories, with plenty of rooms.

There was a quick discussion on the idea of kids, that was quickly denied. Neither of them wanted children, so they settled on animals. This is where they ended up with two dogs, two cats, and a bunch of fish. John wanted a goat, but Jaren was scared it would eat all his books.

A year or so later, John had to go on an important trip. It was just him leaving for a month to travel around with some friends. John felt bad for leaving his husband, but Jaren really didn’t mind.

Once the month was over, John was more than excited to finally come home. He was tired, and hadn't gotten a chance to shave for a while. More than that, he missed his adorable little Jaren. He lied to his husband about the day he was coming home, so he could surprise him.

It was early morning, so quietly John opened the door. He quietly shut it behind him, then dropped his bags when he saw the sight in front of him. He couldn’t believe it. He was only gone for a month!

“What the fuck… Jaren!” John yelled out.

The house was full of books. Walking around, he saw quite a few doubles as well as a lot of rare ones. His jaw was on the floor as he looked at all the books. Not only surprised by the amount, but by the organization. They were organized in what type of book they are, to particular type, to colour, and alphabetical order. John was in complete shock.

He heard footsteps coming his way, and his husband peeked out from behind a stack of books. “Hi Johnny…” He whispered. John raised an eyebrow at him. “W-well.. You see… We were throwing away a bunch of books from the library that don’t get taken out. So I took them home. Then a bookstore was throwing away some, so I took them.. Then the bookstore told other bookstores, and I got in touch with them…”

John watched his husband the whole time. Even though he was slightly annoyed about the fact his house was full of books, he couldn’t help but fawn over Jaren and how adorable he was.

Jaren was put on a restriction from buying any books for awhile.

As time went on, Jaren collected more and more books. So much so, they built a large garage in their backyard that was just a library. John brought up the idea of maybe selling some of the books, but he was quickly turned down.

John didn’t even understand how there were this many books in the world. It was ridiculous at this point.

The years flew past, the happy couple enjoying their time together. They grew old, and faced hardships. All by each other's sides. Neither could have asked for anymore. Jaren never left his job at the library. Evan ended up leaving, to settle down with Jon.

One day while at work, Jaren was not feeling too well. He didn’t really care, he’s an old man right now, it was to be expected. As he was carrying some books, he tripped and fell. He ended up in hospital.

Everyday John would come and visit Jaren in the hospital. He would bring a book every time he did, from Jaren’s favourite collection. John’s sight wasn’t the best, but he still read them out for his injured husband.

Unfortunately, Jaren did not make it. He died in the arms of his lover. John died shortly after, from a broken heart. Jaren and John’s friends decided the set up their old house as a small library. Everyone loved it.

In the end, John and Jaren got together again, sharing one of their favourite books, Pride and Prejudice.

#banana bus squad #vanoss crew #jaren smith #smii7y #kryozgaming #john keyes #krii7y #oneshot #cute #fluff #books

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tinyarmedtrex · 4 years

Note

(1/2) I have a story that happened in real life that sounds like it a straight up fanfic (please write it). So like 3 years back a bunch of my friends and I got drunk together for the first time. Two of them accidentally slept together. I remember in the morning we woke up to them screaming at each other in the bedroom saying shit like “I can’t believe this happened”. They didn’t talk for like two weeks straight and then like half of us staged an intervention with each of them and told them to

That is 100% a fanfic story. That’s amazing.

--------

“No, No, NO, NO.”

Richie opened his eyes slowly, feeling like he could have slept for another four hours if not for the screaming that was happening next to him.

“Eds what- what are you shirtless?” He asked, fumbling for his glasses and looking down at himself. “Why am I shirtless?”

“We slept together! We fucking- AHH!” Eddie ran a hand through his hair and then turned around, looking for his clothes.

“No we didn’t. Eds we probably just fell asleep…” He checked under the covers. “Naked.”

“If the soreness in my ass and the ripped condom are any indication we certainly fucking did.” Eddie replied, pulling on his jeans. “I can’t fucking believe this. I can’t believe this happened. Why did you let this happen Richie?”

“Why did I?” Richie asked, pulling on a pair of boxers from the floor. “Why is this my fault?”

“Because I’m not the one who gets drunk and sleeps with people! That’s not me!”

“Hey fuck you! That’s not me either!”

Eddie just stopped and glared at him. “No? What about spring break?”

“I wasn’t drunk! I don’t sleep with people who are drunk! You probably seduced me!”

“HA!” Eddie shook his head, pulling on his shirt. “Don’t make me laugh Richie.”

“Why is that so funny?” Richie asked, following Eddie out of his room and into the hall.

“Because- because it just is, okay?” Eddie looked around, finding his jacket on the floor. “I can’t believe this fucking happened. I can’t-” He shook his head. Richie knew this mood of Eddie’s. He was about a minute away from a panic attack- and from making sounds only dolphins could hear. “We fucked up.”

“Eds-” Richie reached for him and Eddie stepped back, shaking his head.

“No, no I need to go. I need to- think. Fuck.” He grabbed his shoes, not even bothering to put them on and he was gone.

“What the hell happened?”

Richie turned, noticing Stan and Mike at the dining room table for the first time.

“Who fucking attacked you?” Mike asked, holding back a laugh.

Richie looked down, seeing that he was covered in marks. “Fuck off. Both of you.” He said, going to his room and slamming the door. If he knew Eddie the other man would text him later that day, they’d make some bad jokes, and everything would be fine by dinner.

That wasn’t what happened.

Two weeks went by and they still weren’t talking. Both of them had stopped coming to events that the other one was going to be at and the other losers were pissed. Richie didn’t know what to do. It was obvious that Eddie didn’t want to see him and, at this point, Richie didn’t want to see him either.

“Look it sucks but this is just life now.” He said, finishing his fanta and looking at the others. “It’s like when Mommy and Daddy get divorced. We still love all of you very much.”

They were having their monthly movie night at Bill’s apartment- except that it was all wrong because Eddie wasn’t next to him complaining about the plot holes, he wasn’t stealing Richie’s blanket and Richie’s favorite snacks weren’t there because Eddie always brought them and it hadn’t even occurred to him to go out an buy them.

In short, it sucked.

“I wanna live with Eddie.” Stan mumbled, earning a chuckle from Mike. Richie flicked him off.

“It’s fine. We’ll just get used to being six- it’s easier anyway! Think of how much simpler amusement parks will be!”

Then there was a knock at the door. Richie’s head whipped to Bill. All of them where here and the pizza had already been delivered.

“Oh, how strange.” Bill said in an unconvincing voice. He stood and a second later Richie heard a familiar voice complaining about traffic.

“You fuckers.” He said, looking at everyone else.

“Someone had to.” Bev said.

“You’re both being ridiculous.” Mike added.

“And we’re all sick of it.” Stan finished.

Ben nodded along to everyone else’s statements.

“Benedict Cumberbatches! All of you!”

“Arnold.” Stan replied. “How were you valedictorian?”

Richie’s response was drowned out by Eddie’s angry tirade. “What the fuck Bill? You swore he wouldn’t be here! And Ben! You promised me. I swear to fuck-”

“Get them!” Stan and Mike rush Richie while Ben, Bev and Bill all grabbed Eddie, throwing them into Bill’s room.

“We’ll let you out once you get your shit together!” Bev called.

“This was her idea please don’t wreck my room!” Bill added.

Then their voices died away and they were alone. Eddie immediately sat on the far edge of the bed, turning away from Richie.

“Now what?” Richie asked. “I vote we destroy all of Bill’s shit.” He said, opening one of his drawers and rifling through it.

“Of course that’s what you’d say.” Eddie muttered, not looking at him.

“What the hell do you want from me Eddie?” Richie was sick of this, of not talking and of Eddie’s attitude towards him. If they were trapped here he refused to let Eddie ignore him. He moved so he was in front of Eddie.

“I’m so sorry you sleep with me and now you hate me!” He said sarcastically. “Okay? Is that what you want?” Eddie didn’t respond and he groaned. “What the hell, was the sex that bad? Are you upset that you didn’t get to sleep with one of the others first? What is it? Huh? Huh? Huh?”

“I’M UPSET BECAUSE I LOVE YOU.” Eddie screamed. He stood and started pacing. “I love you and we fucking drunkenly slept together. How many good relationships do you know that start out like that? What am I supposed to do? I remember how you felt Richie! I remember you kissing me! I can’t go back to being just your friend.” Eddie stopped and Richie could see the anger drain out of him. “I can’t.”

“God dammit Eds,” Richie said, shaking his head and walking up to Eddie. “You are the most stubborn, pig headed.” He cupped Eddie’s cheeks with his hands. “Wonderful, perfect person I know. I love you too.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped. “Really?”

“Since we were fifteen.”

“Fuck.” Eddie muttered.

“Yea.”

“Now what?”Richie smiled. “Now, I think, we break out of this room and go on a date. One without any alcohol.”

Eddie chuckled, nodding in his hands. “I’d like that. A lot.”

“Me too.”

@spastuetheobsessedphylosopher @chaotickaspbrak @wheezyeds @constantreaderfool @purplepoisonedgem @queen-sock @pink-psychic @bowersgangvslosersclub @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @reddie-to-cryy @moonlightrichie @eduardoandale @anellope @inthebreadbinwrites @sparklingrainbowdragon @madi-personal @lifesucksheres20bucks @appojoos @upsidedownlosers @thorn-harvester-ven @eddiefuckinkaspbrak @andaleduardo @xandertheundead @state-of-longing @fandomgirllover @adhdtrashmouth @rielysian @uppperteeeth @s-s-georgie @for-peanutbutter @edstozler @s-onora @notmyspaghetti @twoidiotsinl0ve @spirited-marvel @lover-mouth @roobarrtrashmouth @njess04 @wilding-throught-thehallways @gloire-celeste @stansbooty @reddieobsessed @myeverythingisyourstruly @onlykatelyn @no-she-wasnt-reddie @isabelleritma @gczebos @ransonelovebot @stanleuyris @kasp-brakz @animalfacts @vipphil @sourmoist @reddie4diaster @playing-jim @twistedrainbows8908 @princesass-theresa @theandrewhurley @littledancersun @fourtccn @quenchyourhonor @mimiharu @kaspbrak-tozier-reddie @hushfakeomens @notyourmom90 @nancynwheeler @elphiegoescraycray @finelinedwalls @call-me-bread @ultrapaninibred @chaoticeddie @nerdsarebetter @rebecca-the-queen @ticomat @icecreamcatt

#reddie #they would #idiots #tinyarmedtwrites #Anonymous

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merrybrides · 4 years

Text

15 Key Secrets To A Successful Marriage

Wouldn’t you like to know the secret sauce to a happy and long-lasting marriage, especially from those happily married couples who have aced the art of leading a happy relationship?

We unveil 15 secrets of a successful marriage that will help you problem-solve the marital issues, disarm the conflicting spouse and help you create and maintain a successful marriage.

1. Be independent

Independence was rated ‘extremely important’ in a marriage.

In order to be happy in a relationship, we must be happy first. That is, in fact, the key to a successful relationship. With that in mind, wives and husbands must continue to take out time for themselves, enjoy their personal hobbies, and in general, spend some time apart.

Not only does absence make the heart grow fonder, but in the time we spend alone, we get to reunite with our spiritual side, re-establish our sense of self, and check in with the progress of our personal preferences, goals, and achievements.

Being dependent, on the other hand, weakens your resolve and ability to move forward as a free thinker.

When we maintain our independent sense of self, we will always have something to talk about at the dinner table, and we are forever stronger, healthier, and more attractive to our partners.

2. Be a good listener

We need to talk.

Most partners dread this sentence but do you know that if you are wondering how to have a successful relationship then creating a platform for healthy conversations is the way to go?

While all women should work in the art of active listening, we emphasize this as an area of special attention for men. Too often, men do not realize that all their partner needs from them is a listening ear.

This is due to their programming and the way in which they are taught to relate to others.

Remember that listening and hearing are not the same things. Listening involves our hearts. Open yours, hear what she says, look at her while she speaks, paraphrase even, and reassure.

Listening is the real key to a happy marriage, for that matter, to every relationship.

3. Agree to disagree

Being good together does not mean that couples agree on every little thing. Most of the couples we interviewed actually had varying attitudes, opinions, and belief systems; and even held opposing views on major areas in some cases.

All couples should have some level of disagreement somewhere. Successful, loving couples respected the point of view of one another and even had a sense of humor over their points of contention.

Remember, respect is one of the major elements of a successful marriage.

Recognize that of two opposite views, one of them does not have to be right.

4. Communicate – know your partner’s ‘Love Language’

There are several books out there on the Languages of Love. This was developed of the concept in psychology that each individual has his or her own unique way in which they communicate love.

By knowing your partner’s preferences and hobbies, metaphors can be used in communication that relates to something the person understands well.

Observe the physical way in which your partner shows love and you’ll know what makes a successful marriage.

This could be, washing your car, or picking up the kids. From her, it could be keeping the toiletries stocked and ironing his shirts. For others, its words, letters, and affection.

Our advice for a successful marriage? Figure out your partner’s love language so you will always know how to speak to him or her. Love languages are often talked about but couples don’t pay as much attention to this than they should.

Understanding a spouse’s love language is the secret to a happy relationship.

5. Acceptance

A major relationship killer, lack of acceptance is a trait more commonly attributed to women, who are known for their nagging. Remember, we married our spouse for who he was then, and who he is now. Even if we wanted to change him now, we can’t.

The key to a successful marriage lies in realizing this as soon as possible.

When urging or persuading him, you are only focusing on his weaknesses or problems. Change your perspective immediately and start focusing on positive traits instead.

6. Take responsibility

It is that easy and one of the secrets of a successful marriage. When you participate in a project, take responsibility for your successes and your failures.

When you and your partner have a disagreement or argument, remember to take responsibility for your actions, including anything you did or said, especially if it was hurtful, unthoughtful or created adversity.

7. Never take one another for granted

Taking one another for granted may be the most toxic pathogen of all. Once they are comfortable, it is easy for couples to begin to slip into a complacent state – and expectations form.

This is actually only a matter of human nature, as we get comfortable with what is familiar, but in marriage, you absolutely should never come to a place where you take your partner for granted.

Pledge to respect your partner indefinitely no matter what. Avoid assumptions, and offer to do nice things for your partner whenever possible. Most successful marriages have partners who vouch for this.

8. Date night

Among the other tips for a successful marriage, this tip is the most ignored and overlooked by couples, especially those who have been married for a while. It does not matter what a couple does on their date night.

Simply having a night when they spend their time just with each other strengthens the bond and maintains it over time. When you have a date night, you should turn your phones off and put them away so you are free of distractions.

Watch a movie at home with popcorn or go hiking or rollerblading together. Change it up often and be helpful and positive for one another. A romantic and thoughtful date night is not just one of the steps to a successful marriage but indeed one of the main ingredients of a successful marriage as well.

It is important to schedule this monthly if not weekly in order to maintain accountability and establish a pattern of importance in regard to date night.

9. Add romance

Wondering how to make marriage successful? Go old school with your romance. Romantic acts can be many – try giving her a flower someday or place a love note in his briefcase or backpack. Surprise him with his favorite meal, or watch the sunset together.

There is no shortage of ideas, and you’ll be amazed at how far a little romance goes toward strengthening the relationship.

10. Keep intimacy alive

Sex is very important to a healthy marriage. Sex should be regular, and therapists suggest doing it even when you’re not in the mood!

We suggest keeping it interesting by talking about what pleases you and adding any fantasy role-playing, positions, or bedroom props you may want to introduce to keep it exciting.

After all, what is a successful marriage if it doesn’t let you get what you desire?

Life coach Giovanni Maccarrone talks about how making this one conscious decision before getting married can be helpful in making a marriage successful.

11. Compliments

“A compliment a day keeps the divorce attorney away.” Acknowledging your partner’s positive attributes every day, and paying compliments, will go a long way in your relationships.

Stay positive, and keep track of what your spouse does well. When the going gets rough and his not-so-great attributes come forward, rather than focusing on the negative, try switching gears, and point out the positive stuff instead.

12. Look for the soft emotion

Behind every “hard” emotion is a soft one; this is a concept taught by psychologists.

When we feel anger, it’s usually masking another emotion behind it, such as sadness, disappointment, or jealousy. We often just use anger as a disguise to protect our vulnerabilities.

Looking for the “soft” or vulnerable emotions underneath someone’s hard display of anger will help keep you connected as you are better equipped to empathize with that person’s true emotion.

We are often searching for tips for a successful relationship but fail to realize that a simple thing such as identifying the reality of emotions can keep us on the right track.

13. Let go of the fantasy

Unfortunately, we are socialized to believe in fairytale endings and we may carry some false perspectives on reality with us into adulthood. We need to recognize that, while marriage can be a beautiful thing, it is not effortless, nor will it ever be perfect.

Have realistic expectations and do not fall victim to the fairy tale – you may find yourself sorely disappointed. This is not only one of the greatest factors of a successful marriage but plays a huge role in your happiness as an individual too.

14. Do not control

Married people often come to a place where they start to lose themselves, they give in to jealousy or feelings of inadequacy, or they forget that they are separate people away from their partners, and they may try to control their partners.

Most of the time this is done inadvertently, as expectations may grow over time.

What makes a marriage successful are communication, independent time, and healthy indulgences that will keep any couple on track. If you sense you are being controlled or are the controller, get a handle on it or make an appointment for a family counselor.

15. Never use the D- word

Presuming you don’t really want to get a divorce, don’t threaten to. Couples that use the D-word or talk about separation during fights use this as a control mechanism. Couples using it in a threatening way are more likely to see Divorce come to fruition.

Making threats is not a mature strategy for solving any problem, so don’t do it.

Most happy couples swear by these successful marriage tips. Follow these tips on how to have a successful marriage; you will not only be able to save your marriage but also be able to enjoy a highly successful one.

#marriage advice

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anythingandeverything1d · 4 years

Text

You or Him.

Your heart was pounding so loud you could hear it in your ears. You quietly opened the front door, sliding inside and immediately against the wall. You held a small nerf gun with only one bullet in your hand and you listened carefully for Harry’s voice. He should be just about done with his conference call. From what you could tell, his voice was coming from the living room- kitchen area. You crawled the last bit of hallway, getting down on your knees and peaking around the corner. Harry stood in the kitchen, his back was to you and phone to his ear. He was leaning against the counter nodding his head and agreeing with whoever was on the other line. You crawled to the island and waited for him to hang up the phone. 1:30pm, just like clockwork. Harry sighed after hanging up, running his hands through his hair. He was shirtless, dressed in his thin grey athletic shorts. You held the gun to your chest and tried not to laugh at how perfectly your plan was working out. Harry walked past the island and you jumped up and shot. The foam bullet hit him in the middle of his back. “Gotcha!” you yelled with a huge smirk on your face.

Harry turned and shook his head laughing. He ran at you and wrapped you tightly in his arms, placing a warm and gentle kiss on the top of your head. He had always been very forward with his touchiness and it was something you looked forward to and loved. When the two of you were together he was almost always touching you, holding your hand, or finding some way to be extra close to you. You hugged him back, breathing in his familiar cologne, your nose pressed firmly against his chest and butterflies in your stomach. “I haven't seen you in ages and the first thing you think of doing is shooting me with a nerf gun.” he laughed and took a step back. “I fucking love you (y/n).”

You laughed along with him, the butterflies flying up at his words. “I love you to H.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and walked you into the living room. It felt good to be back, to be around Harry. The two of you had been friends for almost 6 years. You met through your mutual friend, his now ex bandmate, Louis, all those years ago. You had been there through everything with the two of them, Zayn leaving, their first concert without him, and their last concert all together as a band. In fact, you had been sitting front row of that one and afterwards you had hugged the two crying boys until everything had seemed okay. You had stayed more in touch with Harry over the years since Louis had been busy with his family, El, and Freddie, but of course you had checked in on Louis as well from time to time. You had celebrated and supported Harry’s first album, both the completion and release, along with his first solo interviews and his big acting break in Dunkirk. All of the late night phone calls about forgetting what to do and being nervous he wasn't good enough, you had been there for each and every one, waking up at 3:30 am to take the call even when you had classes at 8am the following morning. You had also supported him when he left for his big solo tour, even though it had killed a part of you to watch him leave. He had been away for the last year or so now and while you had been front row at a couple of his shows, you hadn't seen him in almost 6 months. Now that he was home, you wanted nothing more than to be around him every minute of every day, starting right now. “So do tell me, how was traveling the world?”

“Well it was amazing, but it lacked a little something.”

“Oh yeah what's that?”

“Something smallish...cute...sassy...”

“Louis Tomlinson,” you joked.

Harry laughed and shook his head, rolling his eyes at you. His fingers trailed along yours distractedly before slipping between yours and squeezing your hand gently. “You.”

You smiled and leaned your head against his shoulder. “I wish I could’ve been there for more. I really missed you Harry.” You snuggled against his chest and he tightened his grip around you. “I am really really proud of you though. Like seriously, so proud Haz” your heart swelled just thinking about it. You really were so proud of him and everything he had worked so hard to accomplish.

“I missed you too and I know.” He smiled and looked down at you. “Tell me about your life, what’s new with you?” His free hand pulled your legs across his so that you were basically sitting in his lap. You looked into his green eyes and bit your lip as he waited for your life update.

You sighed and looked away. This was the part you had been dreading. Last month you had started dating this new guy. He was okay, you weren't exactly sure how your emotions leveled out with him or even if you wanted to be with him at all, but you had still been dreading this day from the time he had asked you out. Harry never took well to you having a boyfriend. In fact he had stopped talking to you for almost a month last time you started dating someone simply because he thought you could do better. It wasn't just his fault though, you didnt take well to him dating someone either. You and Harry had a special relationship. The two of you had been best friends for so long, you never really wanted to cross the line and risk the incredible thing you already had. Plus before when you had both considered dating, you had Louis to worry about. Now it just seemed like the time had gone. The two of you had agreed to just be friends and you had shoved any feelings for Harry down so deep they rarely showed. Of course, sometimes they did. Sometimes you saw headlines of Harry with another girl and it made you physically ill from the fact that you weren't the one with him. Sometimes you got mad that he had chosen a stuck up model to date. And sometimes you just got upset that his attention wasn't on you. It was a weird situation to be in. Harry nudged you, breaking your train of thoughts. “Well, work is boring as ever.” you smiled and rolled your eyes. “My boss still sucks and treats me like I am just some clueless unimportant woman but thats nothing new really.” Harry frowned. The thought of a man not treating you well always upset him, especially the thought of your boss treating you unfairly. “I uh-I also starteddatingsomeone..” you mumbled quickly.

Harry’s body froze. His arms literally stiffened and you anxiously looked into his eyes, waiting for the outburst he typically had. “Oh.” he grumbled. “Thats nice.”

“Mhm.” you waited for more but Harry just sat there. “I think you might like this one..” you lied.

Harry just nodded. “Maybe.” You trailed your finger up and down his arm, waiting for him to continue on. He eventually lightened up and sighed. “So how’d you meet him?”

“I met him through a friend actually. A friend from school.”

“Oh. Mutual friends always make great relationships...”

“Harry please don't act weird.” you groaned, touching your nose to his cheek.

“I’m not.” he defensively said.

“You are. You always act like this.”

“How do you want me to act (y/n)?” he practically growled. Tears formed in your eyes and you moved as far back as you could without falling off his lap. Harry saw your expression and stopped, his head dropped and he sighed. “I’m sorry. If you’re happy, I’m happy.” he said faking a smile. “How long-uh how long have the two of you been dating?”

“Not too long, maybe a month now?” you answered. Harry just nodded. “I want you to meet him.”

“Oh.”

“Harry please. He's my boyfriend and you're- you're, well you're my best friend.” you said best friend with a certain tone and Harry didn’t seem to like it. “I just want the two of you to like each other. Your opinion matters to me.” It wasn't a lie. You valued Harry’s opinion more than anything. He told you how it was all of the time and that wasn't an exclusion with boys. Most of the time Harry was right about them even though you had always hoped deep down he said what he did because he had buried the same feelings you had.

“Fine.” he grumbled. “But only because I want to make sure the guy is right for you.”

You smiled and kissed his cheek as a thank you. It earned a small smile from Harry, but not his typical smile that made your knees shake. “Dinner tonight? We could make it the official start to Friday movie nights.”

“So now we are including him in Friday movie night?” Harry pushed you off his lap to stand up and pace in front of the couch.

“No. No Harry.” You grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down to you. “Friday movies are OUR thing. I just want you to meet him at dinner and then when he leaves it can be you and I. Just like normal.”

Harry relaxed a little bit after hearing that and you let the breath you didn't realize you had been holding out in relief. “Fine.”

You stood up, hugged him tightly and smiled. “Dinner at 6:00. Don’t even think about being late Harry.”

“When am I ever late to something that involves you?” he asked with a grin.

“I just wanted to make myself clear.” you laughed while shaking your head and walking to the door. You blew him a kiss and grinned. “See you tonight.”

He caught the kiss and placed it on his heart. “7:00 right?” he teased with a deep laugh. You gave him a look and he laughed harder. “I’m kidding. I’ll see you later.”

You got home and anxiously prepped dinner. You made one of Harry’s favorites, spaghetti and meat balls with garlic bread. It was something easy and Harry always said that he loved the dinner because of the face you had once paired it with lady and the tramp. That was what had started your tradition for Friday monthly movie nights. You set the table when the doorbell went off. You walked over and opened it. Your boyfriend had a rose in his hand and a smile on his face. “Hey you.” He handed you the rose and walked in. “It smells amazing in here. I’m really excited for dinner.”

“I am too. I’m excited for you to meet Harry.”

“Where is he?”

You looked at the clock and rolled your eyes. It was 6:05, and just like Harry had promised he wouldn't do, he was late. Normally Harry arrived promptly an hour early to movie night, just because he was so excited to spend time with you. You heart ached a little knowing he wasn't excited like normal but you also knew that your boyfriend intruding in dinner had set him off. Harry walked in a minute or so later. He had a bouquet of flowers, all of your favorite flowers to be exact. He walked over with a big grin on his face. “Hey beautiful.” he half hugged you holding the flowers. He hand them over and you smiled. He placed a kiss on your head and grinned. “Those are your favorites right?”

“Yeah, they are beautiful Haz. Thank you.” You carried the flowers to the kitchen to put them in a vase and Harry followed, trailing closely behind you.

“Dinner smells amazing. You know how much I appreciate your spaghetti.” He winked and you grinned shaking your head in response. Your boyfriend walked over and cleared his throat, reminding you he was also here. Harry glared at him, his hand firmly holding yours.

“Harry..” you removed your hand from his and stood between them. “This is my boyfriend.” Your boyfriend stuck his hand out and Harry just looked at it until you gave him the look. Harry reluctantly shook it and rolled his eyes. Harry was about to say something but luckily the timer went off and you pulled the bread out.

“Lets eat.” you said carrying it to the table. Harry sat next across from you and your boyfriend at the table. He kept kicking your feet, playing games like he normally would while eating mouthfuls of spaghetti. Your boyfriend kept looking between you two with an unreadable expression. Harry didn't say a word to him the entire meal and you were a little annoyed he wasn't trying to get to know him.

Towards the end of the meal your boyfriend had finished his plate. He leaned over and kissed you, his lips locking on yours. “That was delicious. Thanks for cooking baby.”

Harry actually choked on the bite of bread he had taken. He watched your boyfriend closely, his eyes full of anger. “I think I’m done.” he pushed his plate forward and leaned back in his chair.

“You never finish without eating at least another helping of spaghetti, let alone not finishing your plate.” You commented.

“I’m feeling a little ill.” he glared at your boyfriend.

“If you're sick you should probably go home..” your boyfriend countered.

You almost spit out your bite of food. You had never seen him jealous before but he looked like he wanted to hurt Harry. “You know-”

“Actually (y/n) and I have a movie night planned tonight. I wouldn't miss that for anything.” Harry crossed his arms and watched, waiting for a response.

Your boyfriend looked over, his mouth dropping. You shrugged your shoulders in response. You didn't mention the movie night to him because you hadn't wanted him insisting on staying. He had been trying to sleep with you for weeks now, but you just weren't feeling it. You had also wanted to be alone with Harry during movie night but theres no way you would ever admit that to either of them. “Can we talk?” he asked looking at you suddenly. You nodded your head and allowed him to pull you into your bedroom. “What the hell?”

“What?” you asked, placing innocent.

“Were you just not going to mention a movie night?”

“I didn’t see it as an important detail. Harry and I always have movie nights once a month on Friday. He’s been gone so of course we are going to have one now that he's back.”

“So I’m not included because?”

“Because...because...” you stumbled. You knew this question had been coming but you weren't ready to answer it. “Harry’s my best friend. I haven't seen him in literally forever. I just wanted it to be us tonight.”

“You need to choose.”

“Excuse me?”

“Its either me or him.”

“Why?”

“Because. The way you look at him, the way you interact with him. It’s like you're both in love with each other. He’s been back one day and he's already taken priority over our relationship. It’s me or it's him. You cant have both.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

You looked at him, mouth open. He was seriously asking you to choose between him and Harry. You laughed angrily and shook your head. “This is ridiculous.”

“It is. But it's still happening. Me or him (y/n). Who's it going to be?”

You didn't even think before answering. “Harry. It will always be Harry.”

Your boyfriend rolled his eyes and walked out without another glance. You followed him to the kitchen and watched him leave without another word. Harry looked back at you confused. You had tears in your eyes and you didn't quite know why. Harry rushed to your side, pulling your arms out and examining them. “Did he hurt you? What happened?” You pushed him off and wiped your eyes.

“He said I needed to choose.”

“Choose?”

“You or him.”

Harry laughed until he realized you were serious. He stopped and looked at you suddenly afraid you weren't going to choose him. He saw the tears in your eyes and he took a step back. You were crying more now because he was moving away, but you reached out for his hand. Harry reluctantly let you grab it, and he pulled you into his arms, rubbing small circles in your back while you cried. “Shh don't cry (y/n).... I get it. You need to pick him. It’s fine. Don't worry about-”

“Pick him?!” you stepped away, snot falling from your nose. “Harry are you kidding me?” You were still crying and Harry was confused. “I picked you. I’ll always pick you. I love you don't you get it.”

You were crying harder now, your once buried feelings for Harry surfacing. Harry stepped closer and without a word or second thought, pressed his lips into yours. You froze. He didn't give up. He bit down on your lower lip, gently tugging. He patiently waited for you his lips rolling against yours. Your mouth opened and his tongue went inside, sliding off of yours. He kissed you like it was the one and only kiss he would ever get. His arms tightened around your waist, picking you up and placing you on the edge of the counter. You tangled your hands in his hair, while his hands dug into your thighs. You groaned into the kiss and he smirked against your lips. His body rested between your legs as he kissed you. He kissed down your neck, sucking and biting the tender skin below your ear. He smiled and ran his finger along the swollen red mark he left before returning his lips to yours. When he finally pulled away you were both gasping for air, your forehead against his shoulder, his breath falling down the back of your neck while he rested his head against yours. “I love you. I’ve loved you for 5 years and I’m done wasting time.” You smiled and wiped your eyes while crying more. He let you use his shirt to wipe your face and then carried you to the couch where he snuggled you into a blanket and held you on his lap. The two of you were so content, you could have cared less that the tv wasn't on and your movie wasn't playing. You had Harry and as long as you had him, everything else would work itself out just fine.

---

Just a small little blurb. Enjoy. xoxo

#one direction #directioners #one direction fanfiction #one direction imagines #Harry Styles #harrystyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurb

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outoftimewriting · 4 years

Text

So, lemme paint this scene for you:

I was in my room, minding my own business. I generally go about my day like that: i do my chores, I have lunch, I shower, I stay in my bedroom, I have dinner, I feed the animals, I stay in my bedroom a little more.

Today, I didn't bother to see if my mother was awake for dinner. She took this as a personal offense, because (shock) I ate the last Cheese Biscuit.

My mother has been sick for a week or so. When I inquired after her health, I was told she has a minor heart problem and a problem in her intestines.

So in storms my mother in my room. I won't recount minor details - I can't - but she told me I am a horrible daughter, a selfish monster who cares for no one but herself, a deadbeat lowlife and a dumbass.

She told me that I only bother with my phone - maybe because I only read, watch movies, study and have classes in it, but who cares - and that I have no other life - not exactly a lie, but we are in quarantine so. So she took it.

I try to refute her. The first time renders her screaming at me - because I didn't left a biscuit for her. There's no shortage of food in my house - apparently, it was very selfish of me for not checking on her earlier.

I generally check on her earlier - but I didn't, because her room was dark and I thought she was asleep. According to her, I should know she has a brain issue (I was never told that, but whatever) and that she might have a convulsion or a blow aneurysm at any time (I was also never told that).

She keeps saying that I don't care for anyone - mainly because the main relationship I have with my family is them asking for help and me helping, or small talk where I get really excited about things and they laugh at me.

The second time I try to refute her, she slaps me. Eight or ten times. I was crying by then - I have a horrible case of anxiety.

She keeps saying that I need to have a better relationship with my family - like it's all my fault - and that I live in a world where I am less than a weight - that's how useless I am.

I'm a minor - I don't work. She didn't let me, because of the quarantine. She doesn't want me to leave to do college elsewhere either.

I don't have a present father at all, let's leave it at that.

She keeps screaming at me. I don't know what she wants from me. She keeps saying that I need to be more, do more. I have no idea what she is talking about - does she wants me to do more chores?

She says no. No, it's not the chores. It's that I don't do anything all day but stay in my phone - I don't exercise, I don't garden. Whatever. I was never a outdoors person - she says it's because of my privileged upbringing.

She screams at me a little more. How she checks on me each night - which is a lie, because I rarely sleep before five and she never checked on me before. She screamed at me for about an hour and a half.

Any arguments that I give against her, she just says I'm dumb. I had a fight - a bad fight - with a friend. I told her - I don't know why, because I know the outcome. She used it against me.

It's not the first time. My family either mocks my experiences, opinions and interests or they don't care. Or they may use it later to throw them back at my face.

She keeps contradicting herself, saying that I either don't care for anyone or that my small stuff doesn't matter. But the main theme is that I'm a horrible person that doesn't deserve anyone, has no real friends and that she is a martyr.

She tells me I just don't want her to die because she pays the bills. I got mad, and told her the truth: If she died, I would probably go live with my grandma, in my old room there, sell this house and go on. I would be sad, and grieving - but my life doesn't depend on her.

She gives me my phone back. Calls me a selfish bitch once again, and leaves.

This seems like a very harsh exchange. But in the last two or three years, it's almost a monthly thing. Every now and then, she gets fed up that I'm a student, with a bad case of anxiety and a beginning of depression - and thinks the solution is taking my phone away or giving me the cold shoulder.

She constantly threatens to leave or to off herself. She reminds me constantly that I cannot live without her - that she is everything I have. That she sacrificed everything for me, that she gave her life for me.

I'm just tired y'know? Of this same argument, of the way that she keeps emphasizing that I'm dumb (even though I have great grades), useless, selfish, a weight, a problem. And that's when she doesn't poke at my weight, how much I eat, how I am ugly, or how my clothes aren't okay.

And my birthday is in ten days. I just keep... hoping she will eventually stopping freaking out over really small things and throwing her problems at me. It's jarring.

But at the same time, I don't even cry afterwards anymore - she came, she screamed, she made me feel like trash, my anxiety is through the roof, but I don't feel surprised. I can't even curl up and cry over what she said - she says it every other week! When I forget to get the trash out, when I eat too much, when I don't call my grandma, when I am grumpy for waking up too early.

I just.... I just needed to put this out. Am I crazy to think this is wrong? Like most of our family works more or less this way.

#anxiety #mother #mother issues #family issues #toxic #?#toxic environment #??? idk #toxic behavior #toxic parents #I feel bad #depression #is that too much to ask

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