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gyllenhaalstories · 1 year

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CHERISH (PART 2) — CHOCOLATIER!JAKE 🍫

summary: he brings the cream, you bring the pie. together you’re making... cupcakes?

warnings: curse words, food, baking & eating, smut (food play, finger sucking, aphrodisiac, fingering, handjob, pussy spanking, masturbation, penetration, creampie, hyperspermia & cum play). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 3385

gifs credits: me (@/gyllenhaalstories) / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: i hope you’re ready, because it’s time for you to become a cream filled chocolate truffle! since this THE PART 2 OF THIS FIC, that means it’s still the season of pink, hearts and pink hearts so happy valentine’s day again! 💗 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

When Jake saw you grab the container of store bought frosting, his heart came close to stop beating. He snatched it out of your hand faster than the speed of your spoon diving into the sugary product.

You rolled your eyes at him, and at his genuinely shocked face before you started laughing with him — well no, it was directly at him. Right in his face too, because he remained stoic, holding the jar far out of your reach. “It’s just frosting.”

“It’s not just frosting! It’s the most important part of the cupcakes! It needs to be delicious and that?” His eyes widened while he waved the frosting in the air. “That’s unacceptable.” He put the container back where you found it, with the lid and all. “You can eat it behind my back, like when I’m in the shower —” but we shower together, you interrupted. You counter offered his other suggestions until he gave up and agreed to let you ruin another baked good, but not his cupcakes.

You found it funny how he turned into a busy, overwhelmed mom who was just reminded the night before by her forgetful children that they signed her up for some charity event at the school that would go down in flames without her box-mix cupcakes. He reacted dramatically to a lot of the things, you noticed. After several other dates since your first one at his chocolaterie, you discovered he was... Special. He liked things to be in order, clean and organized especially in the kitchen, while the rest of his life prevailed in a complete chaos. He was so different in and outside of the kitchen, you wondered if he allowed himself to have a bit of fun or if he was too scared that his Kitchen Aid stand mixer would judge him for eternity.

Jake resumed to measuring the rest of the ingredients, following the recipe he knew by heart for having baked it over and over again. He tweaked it to make it his own, he could not help it, but he recited the measurements out loud like a sing-song he learned. Your job as a sous-chef was reduced to putting paper liners in the muffin tin and sucking his finger clean whenever he would present you with a bit of the sweet preparation to taste. Premade frosting was out of the question, but raw eggs seemed to go by just fine.

At some point, you figured he just liked to have you suck on his fingers. Maybe it was the moans he let out when he felt your tongue swirl around his digits, or the fact he would tease your mouth with clean fingers even after the cupcakes were put in the oven. And you loved it too, how the deeper his fingers pushed in your mouth, the more you felt your mind going blank.

The alarm of the timer rang, snapping you back to reality at the poke of a toothpick coming out clean from the chocolate cupcakes. Jake did not stop cooking, and talking to himself about how he hoped Ina Garten would forgive him for his sins — which was to use his own chocolate wafers instead of the semisweet chocolate chips the well-known and even more well-loved chef recommended.

You watched him with an amused smile, while he was measuring the rest of the wafers while waiting for the bain-marie to get ready. He tried to be subtle, you knew it, but you caught him snacking on a couple of pieces of chocolate. So much so that he had just about enough for the last steps of the recipe and the replacement for your forbidden frosting.

Once the water started to simmer, he placed a glass bowl on the pot and poured the chocolate disks in it. He stirred the chocolate as it melted before yours and his eyes, smooth and satiny. He dipped his finger in the hot concoction — his fingers had been long desensitized to burning with all the years of baking he had underneath the cute apron he wore around his waist. It was your Valentine’s day gift to him, belated, but still a thought act.

“You know...” You spoke, Jake’s eyes left the glass bowl to meet with yours. “When I suggested we could bake cupcakes, I didn’t mean we should turn into a fancy bakery. We’ve been at it for a long time.”

He shook his head, in a strangely calm manner. “There’s nothing ironic about baking. I take it very seriously.” He sucked on his own chocolate dipped finger, releasing it with a pop, to further prove his point. “I’m almost done anyway. You’ve helped me plenty, time flew by!” When you rolled your eyes at his comment about your nonexistent help, he insisted. “You’re standing there and looking beautiful with flour hand prints on your butt. That’s more helpful than anything else.”

You earned a kiss that you tried to deepen and make last longer, but Jake pulled away to complete the chocolate ganache. The heavy cream and chocolate mixed together beautifully and you wrapped your arms around his torso while he expertly dipped the now cooled down cupcakes into the chocolate. You tried to sneak a peek of his work, but he was moving so much in your embrace that it made it hard to focus.

He ended your confusion by offering by sharing the rest of the ganache, using a spatula to scoop it from the bowl until the two of you acted giddy, giggling as he licked and kissed drops of sweet goodness that fell on your chin.

It took a little while — a few minutes, really — to notice the familiar sensations that were spreading through your body, starting at your tongue and sending electric waves all the way down between your thighs. Oh.

Oh, yeah, fucking finally, Jake murmured to himself. He smiled just as big and proud as the first time you tried his special chocolate at his boutique during your very first date. He pulled you closer to him, wanting to admire all the small changes that were starting to happen to you. He held your face delicately in his big hands, his eyes diving into yours while your pupils were growing larger and while your mouth dropped ajar. He mirrored everything — how his tongue could not stay still in his mouth like it was begging to touch yours, how your head wanted to loll to the side. “Let it go, sweetheart, let it go.”

The way he cooed at you helped your head get emptier and emptier until... Until you could not think of anything else except him. Except how badly you wanted him and needed to feel him. You wanted to scream at how much it hurt not to have his hands on your breasts or his mouth on your clit. You wanted to beg and beg until he would relieve some of that delicious pain.

His hands slid from your cheeks down to your shoulders, wrapping around your neck while he pulled you in for a kiss that was all tongues and teeth. The longer the kiss lasted, the more he felt like the world around you was vanishing into a thick fog.

It was the same way you felt, using whatever control on your body you had left to make your way to the bedroom. You let him grope your breasts over your clothes, rubbing his thumbs over the small bumps your hard nipples created until he heard you moan into his mouth.

Jake pulled away, only to lick some of the drool that fell down the corner of your mouth and kissed you hard again, making it as messy as he could while his hands kept exploring your body. He pulled moan after moan after you with touches as simple as the warmth of his palms pressing against the goosebumps on your skin.

In a blink of an eye, all of your clothes were piling up on the floor with nothing but your body heat and the burning desire to indulge in each other’s bodies. Unlike the first time you tasted the chocolate, you did not stand alone in this euphoric experience.

Jake looked just about as far gone as you were, with glossy eyes and quick breathing that resembled a needy panting. He was hard, his cock throbbing as you exchanged another series of feverish kisses. When you took him in your hand, he had to lean on you so his knees would not give in. Not that he ignored the effects of the aphrodisiac, but, even after he tested it on you, he realized just how powerful a few bites of that magic substance could be. It made precum leak out of his sensitive, pink tip. It made his abs clench at the strong sensation of your hand stroking him. It made him throw his head back when you cupped his balls into your left hand, using the other one to keep jerking him off.

You could tell he was holding back, with his clenched jaw and the tight grip he had on your soft hips, his short nails digging into your flesh. He wanted to fuck your hand hard and fast and catch his own release.

He did not give in, however. It would all be a waste if he did not get to feel you while being in this physical state, while having his mind and senses played with by a few bites of chocolate. Another kiss, another couple of strokes of his big cock and you were pushed on the bed. Jake barely let you find a comfortable spot to lay on that he was kneeling on the bed too and forcing your legs open to reveal what he wanted the most.

Your inner thighs were covered in your wetness, your folds were slightly puffy from the arousal alone and from this deep, uncontrollable need for Jake to touch you and bring back those fireworks you first experienced under the influence of the aphrodisiac.

“So fucking beautiful.” Jake mumbled, or moaned — both at the same time, actually. The aphrodisiac had him slurring his words and fighting to say a sentence with minimal coherence. He wrapped each arm around one of your thighs and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, making you gasp with surprise when you felt your skin slap against his.

You covered your face with your hands as he finally touched you. His flat hand rubbed over your pussy from side to side, fast and harsh. The more he touched you, and the more his fingers rubbed over your clit when your folds moved out of the way, the wetter you were getting. It was so much more intense than your first time, and it kept on getting better.

Jake slapped your puffy folds, although the blows were soft, they were stinging your sensitive skin. He messed with your brain that had trouble differentiating between the pain of the spanks and the bliss of his fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit. He was mesmerized, jaw dropped and eyes wide as he spanked you a few more times and watched you flinch under him. Each spank was followed by a squeal and giggles, mixed with a moan that sounded like music to his ear. He wanted to hear more — he needed more.

You inhaled loudly, only for the oxygen to get stuck in your throat when you felt Jake’s cock pressing at your entrance and sliding inside your tight hole, eased by your wetness and the precum that covered the tip of his cock. You removed your hands from your face and placed them on your tits, trying to hold them in place while he started to fuck you. You only had a few slow and deep strokes to adjust to the delicious feeling of his cock inside your walls before he picked up the pace.

He gripped on your thighs again that he kept pressed against his body so that he could rock his hips back and forth. Curse words you had never heard from him were submerged by the sound of his deep grunts while he kept thrusting inside of you. Somehow, despite the mix of your juices, he could feel your walls tightening and clenching around his length every time he pushed his cock inside of you after pulling back. He was only chasing the maximum pleasure he could pull out of you — and give back to you.

Pretty moans turned into audible gasps and abrupt screaming when his cock hit the spongy spot inside of you. It seemed as though he calculated the number of times he hit your spot, trying to make you feel as good as possible while also stretching out the time he could enjoy your pussy. One look at him confirmed there was not a thought behind those lust-filled eyes, he was driven by his desire to bury his cock as deep inside of you as you would let him.

He clenched his jaw one moment only to press his lips together the next and hold himself back on moaning more so he could get lost in the obscene sounds your bodies created together. The slapping, the sticky wetness, the rushed and heavy breathing. When he could not hold in his own noises, he groaned and slowed down his thrusting.

He was fucking you hard and deep, so deep that you kept being pushed further away on the bed, dragging the bed sheets with you. “Please,” you spoke for what felt like the first time in forever. “Please, don’t stop!”

He did stop. He stopped to look down at where your bodies no longer met as the distance pulled you away from him, his cock bopping up and down, begging to be reunited with your pussy. Jake took a moment to catch his breath and admire the beautiful scene before his eyes. The veins of his arms, and cock, were bulging out from the sheer force with with he was fucking you. There was a layer of sweat covering both his body and yours, and visible wet spots on the bed sheets that created a trail from the edge of the bed to the middle where you now laid.

Impatient, your body burning into flames, you sat to reach up and pull Jake down with you. He was quick enough to climb on the bed, the tip of his cock brushing against the same wet spots you left behind on the fabric, and you held his cock in your hand briefly to guide it back where it belonged.

He pushed himself all the way back inside you, now kneeling between your thighs that he kept open for him — and for you. Withing even having to tell you, Jake loved to watch you rub the sensitive bundle of nerves that resided between your just as sensitive, soaking wet folds. He pulled away, just a little, and slammed himself back inside of you as he fucked you in this other position.

The aphrodisiac was nowhere near close to run out, you could tell. It still felt just as intense as it did while the effects began to work their magic over you. Your bodies, however, were running out of energy to last. You could tell that too by the fact you were getting closer and closer to your orgasm now that you rubbed your clit in a just as messy rhythm as the one Jake fucked you with.

He was getting so close too, his grunts became more succinct and his face tensed up with the powerful pleasure that ran through his veins. There was no need to speak, words were completely unnecessary as Jake and you let the aphrodisiac take complete control over you.

Your orgasm hit you by surprise, or well, sort of. As soon as you felt that familiar knot in your lower stomach, you knew you were about to explode in an orgasm that pushed the air out of your lungs and made you see stars even when you closed your eyes. It felt even stronger with your eyes closed than it did when you kept them open. It felt as though you could notice each vein on Jake’s cock, the swollen tip of his cock diving in and out of your slick walls. And then you felt it. All of it.

Jake fell down to his elbows, his face conveniently buried in the crook of your neck as he came inside of you, his pelvis flushed with you from how deep he was. Ropes and ropes of cum shot out of his cock while his hips jerked a few times uncontrollably, until he felt like something was pushing him out.

It was not you, not intentionally at least. You would have loved nothing more than to calm down from your high with the feeling of Jake’s cock softening inside of you. Although you could feel something still filling you up even if his cock was sliding out of you.

“Oh my,” Jake spoke when he finally pulled out of your pussy. “Oh my God.” It was still hitting him, he was still cumming with more of his seed just dripping out of his slit. There was even more trickling out of your hole. You looked as confused as Jake. This did not happen with him before... This had never happened to him before. His brows were raised in stupefaction one second and furrowed in confusion the next, he held his cock at the base in one hand while two fingers of his free hand dipped into your cum filled entrance.

It felt so good when he pushed his fingers barely past your entrance, as he felt even more cum inside of you. Quickly, he replaced his fingers with his cock and made you scream of pleasure as he finished inside you with a few more thrusts and pumps. You realized he fucked his cum back inside of you, not even minding that most of it was covering his cock and oozing out of you.

He fell back on you again, slowly and carefully this time so he did not hurt you. And, finally, you cherished the feeling of his softening cock inside of you while you both tried to catch your breath. Jake was mumbling to himself how it felt incredible, how it was so weird and so hot, and how he wanted to do it again — and he wanted it so fucking bad. He tried to move, arms and legs incredibly shaky, but you held him tighter and closer against your just as tired body.

“Where are you trying to go?” You whined, making room between your legs for him to lay down more comfortably.

Jake giggled in your ear, his laughter filled with excitement. The kisses he pressed all over your cheek, jawline and neck were filled with just as much lust as they were earlier. “Trying to get up to grab a snack.”

He squirmed on top of you, but all he managed to do was fall by your side and hug you tight against him. If he wanted to get up, he was failing rather adorably. “A snack? For what?” You turned your head to look at him, you were so close your noses almost touched.

He smiled at you, the same smile he had glued on his pretty face during your date at the boutique. You swore to yourself you would cherish this image forever. “So we can do that again. And again...” He leaned in closer to capture your lips with a kiss. “And again until there’s no more of that good stuff.”

Your eyes widened ever so slightly, that was the strongest reaction you could express with how exhausted you felt after this mind blowing orgasm. “It’s in the cupcakes?” Yup. “All of them?” Jake nodded in approval. “I can’t take it anymore. Not right now.” You tried to resonate with him, only the way your voice cracked betrayed your own desire to try it again and again...

“You’ll take it.” Jake answered, quite firmly. “Because this magic chocolate will definitely be in all the desserts we bake from now on.”

#jake gyllenhaal smut #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal x you

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vidavalor · 4 months

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Ever since you mentioned Crowley cooking while listening to "Evil Woman" and jiving his hips, this song and this image have been stuck in my head. I have tow follow-up questions: 1. What is he cooking and 2. is Aziraphale going to be the main course or dessert ;-)

Hi @procrastiel! How are ya, babe? Sorry the song is an earworm of the best kind lol. Aziraphale is actually putting Crowley on the menu at this point. Crowley has tried to kick him out of the kitchen once already ("go do your book things") but Aziraphale is now pretending that he's concerned that Crowley's had too much wine to be cooking as an excuse to watch ("three glasses, angel, that's a glass of water for me"). Crowley knows and keeps slapping his hand away from ingredients he's prepping while also handing him stuff to taste. There is a serious possibility, though, that Crowley might not finish the dish if Aziraphale keeps sampling and making the little sounds in front of him so he's tossed a little bunch of grapes and some manchego on a plate and sent Aziraphale to his desk with it until dinner is ready.

Crowley is making Ina Garten's Fresh Crab and Pea Saffron Risotto. Naturally, this is slightly doctored to his and his angel's tastes. Aziraphale is the amateur baker because the preciseness gives him comfort but Crowley is the cook because you can experiment and just add more stuff to the pot without the whole thing exploding. Usually. There was that one time he set the kitchen on fire that caused them to use four of the fire extinguishers, Crowley to have a panic attack, and for the Chinese takeaway people to make a small fortune that night. Other than that, starting cooking more again has been a success.

That mainly means that this dish is a little herbier and a little boozier than the recipe but is otherwise the same. Crowley watches Barefoot Contessa when he can't sleep (this is what he tells himself and Aziraphale but, really, he just watches it lol) because as much as he always bitches about Aziraphale needing a soft show (which Aziraphale insists are called "cozy shows") to balance out anything more intense, Crowley does, too. He loves this rich American woman who appears to do nothing but live in this nice gaff with a massive kitchen garden and make up new dishes for her husband to try. She's living Crowley's dream over here. He is currently on Season 17.

Crowley managed to get Aziraphale to pivot to his secret cooking show by a) admitting that he secretly watches a cooking show and b) by hinting that more frequent cooking might be the results if they watched said cooking show. It's been a long pandemic, yeah? and he could not watch the new All Creatures Great & Small for a fourth time, no matter how much Aziraphale insisted it would be fun. (And even if Crowley very reluctantly confessed, while completely smashed one night, that he was, in fact, crying during that episode in which Tricki Woo was in danger. And, also, that Siegfried can get it.) In truth, he'd watch anything on the television they magic in and out of the living room because it's all just an excuse to cuddle on the couch with Aziraphale but he's not about to admit to that. Or remotely use the word 'cuddling' or anything like it, of course.

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#ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens 2 #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 13 days

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The cooking show will be interesting. I wonder which one she’s ripping off. Martha Stewart, Ina Garten, and Rachel Ray are probably the most likely ones since they were big in the ‘90s (aka Meghan’s ideal decade). But Selena Gomez and Florence Pugh are popular among the youth with their down-to-earth/slightly chaotic shows. But Anthony Bourdain (RIP) and Stanley Tucci are popular in the wine mom/Goop crowd Meghan is going after.

I say Bourdain. After all, Anthony Bourdain was Meghan's self-admitted OG travel/foodie show muse from way back. A Martha or Ina rip-off would require far too much work and actual expertise (in her mind). Although she may begin like them, based in one location (Montecito/Casa Olive Garden/the "American Riviera"), imo she'd love ultimately to expand into a Bourdain-type international travel/foodie show. I think she thinks that an on-the-road travel/foodie show would be easy-peasy for her (eating, drinking, traveling, word-salading on camera), while the producers and crew do all the bts heavy lifting. Remember when Gwyneth and the disgraced Mario Batali did something similar, traveling through sunny Spain, eating tapas and drinking sherry all day and night? WCK's Jose Andres did the same type of show recently with his daughters. The Tig was Megs' discount attempt to materialize an offer for a similar gig.

Of course, the reality is that the success of Bourdain and his iconic shows - just like Martha's and Ina's - required intense work and decades of culinary expertise and experience, not to mention personal charisma to burn ...none of which Meghan has.

(PS: "Slightly chaotic" is a perfect description for Selena + Chef! I loved her early show with Iron Chef Alex Guarnaschelli (sp?), in which Selena showed up in the kitchen wearing a white pinafore dress lol. But she's authentic and eager to learn, bless her heart, and brings in a young viewership.)

#submission

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ereardon · 11 months

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Golden Hour sneak peek

Summary: Willow, Georgia. Barely even a town, just a speck on a map that you tried to wipe off, mistaking it for a crumb. You’re the outsider: a fancy New York doctor, fresh out of a failed engagement, with zero primary care experience. You’re also the new town doctor, taking over for a recent retiree who was beloved. His son, Bob Floyd, is the other physician at the practice, and takes an immediate dislike to you. But you were looking for a fresh start, and Willow doesn’t seem all that bad if you can get past the fact that there's only one restaurant in town. It helps that you've caught the eye of Bradley Bradshaw, the town attorney, despite the fact that you vowed to take a break from dating. How long until you start to make friends in a town where social circles have been set in stone since elementary school? And what will it take to make Bob Floyd see you’re not as bad as he wants to believe you are?

Pairing: Bob Floyd x OC; Bradley Bradshaw x OC [Dr. Olive James]

A tall blond with glasses loomed in the doorway. He wore a blue button up shirt with a white doctor’s coat over it, a pair of tan trousers and cowboy boots hidden below the hem of his pants. When he looked at you, he scowled, and you felt his gaze searing over your skin and dark hair. It made you want to turn away from the intensity, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze and smile.

“Dr. Olive James,” you said, holding out one hand, bangles bashing together as you waited with the hand outstretched. “You can call me Olive or Liv.”

After a beat, he reached out and enveloped your hand in his. His fingers were long and beautiful, like a piano player’s. “Dr. Bob Floyd,” he said.

You nodded, your hand still trapped in his. Finally, Bob let his gaze slip from yours and you let your hand fall.

Macy looked between the two of you and blushed. The air was thick with tension. “I’ll be on my way then.” She nodded at you. “Dr. James. Dr. Floyd.” There was a way that she said Bob’s name. A sort of reverie. Macy scampered away and you heard the front door shut behind her, leaving you and Bob alone. He made no move to show you around.

You cleared your throat. “Is, um, is Dr. Floyd Sr. around?”

“My father is quite elderly,” Bob said and his voice was deep, gruff, but velvety. “He’s retired.”

You nodded. “That’s why I’m here. He hired me as his replacement.”

Bob squinted. “And what exactly are your credentials?”

Anger bubbled inside of you. He doubted your credentials? This small-town doctor who probably graduated bottom of his class was asking about your credentials. You straightened your shoulders. “Columbia medical. I did my surgical residency at Mount Sinai where I was chief resident, and I just completed a fellowship in obstetrics.”

Bob brushed past you without a response. You frowned, trailing after him as he made his way into the back behind the desk to a small kitchen at the back of the house. He poured himself a cup of coffee and then turned around. “Why the hell would you want to come here?” he demanded. “You’re a surgeon.”

You didn’t know how to tell him that New York was dead to you. Perhaps not the whole city, but there was no going back. Not when Peter had come home three nights before and ended a five year relationship and engagement with five words.

I slept with someone else.

There was no going back. Your apartment, your perfect Upper East Side apartment, the one you had searched high and low for three years, was getting packed up as you spoke. The walls you had painstakingly painted were being stripped of all of the artwork and photographs that dotted it so carefully. The kitchen where you had spent countless hours trying to learn how to properly sautee green beans and how to roast a whole chicken that would make Ina Garten proud, was standing empty like a skeleton on a gurney. The bedroom that you and Peter had shared was just a shell that had once housed whimpers and soft declarations of love.

How could you tell a stranger that the largest city in the US was still too small to go back to? So you had done the only rational thing. You had fled. Somewhere far. Somewhere small where you could hide in plain sight. Somewhere he would never come looking for you.

[Masterlist here]

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kabillieu · 2 months

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I've had some hits and misses with making dinner lately. Fishy, tough salmon (my freaking LOT in life is to never cook a good piece of salmon) and a disappointing Brunswick stew.

But I also made this skillet chicken thighs and potatoes from Ina Garten. I skipped the buttermilk marinade because it's too time consuming. I need weeknight meals. But otherwise it's a great recipe for roasting potatoes in chicken fat, and the thighs are nicely seasoned. I'm not someone who typically eats a lot of chicken skin, but with this recipe it turns crisp and flavorful. I used to roast a lot of whole chickens, and I'm sure I'll go back to do doing that one day, but right now I just don't have time for it. So this recipe has been a nice way to feel like I'm eating fancy roast chicken and potatoes without having to go through the whole shebang.

I also made this lasagna soup. It was suuuuuper good, and even my finicky baby and my finicky 12yo mostly ate it. We had it with a bag of chopped Greek salad and yeast rolls from the freezer. It would be excellent with crusty garlic bread, but I was just trying so hard to get dinner on the table at a decent hour and didn't have time to fiddle with making garlic bread.

I put a lot of labor and thought into dinner. Obviously, I can't shut up about it on this Tumblr. But I can feel myself turning into a better, more flexible cook (sort of), and I really love the idea of that. And I like feeding my family good food, even when they're knuckleheads and don't understand how good they have it.

#Dominic also cooks #he smoked ribs yesterday #which I appreciate #I actually expect him to cook #and he expects to cook too #but 80% of it still falls on me because I'm home to get dinner started #and that's okay

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ingek73 · 1 year

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Opinion

Bye, bye, haters. Prince Harry’s ‘Spare’ is too complex for you to understand. | Opinion

Published: Jan. 22, 2023, 8:30 a.m.

Prince Harry's memoir, "Spare"

Writer Nancy Colasurdo says "Spare" is a book for anyone who knows what it feels like to discover their principles sharply diverge from members of their family. (AP Photo/Robert F. Bukaty)

By Star-Ledger Guest Columnist

By Nancy Colasurdo

I was scrolling Instagram recently and stopped at a flurry of negative comments on the account of the much-beloved cook, Ina Garten. They weren’t griping about a recipe, but that Garten had the audacity to excitedly share she was beside a crackling fire reading “Spare” by Prince Harry.

“Love you Ina but you need better reading material.”

“Throw that book in that fire!”

“Oh dear … Ina, I love you, but now I might have to unfollow you.”

Really?

At the time, I also happened to be happily ensconced in “Spare.” On a mild, gray day in Hoboken, I sat on a bench at the waterfront and listened on Audible, delighted, rapt. Surprising because I’m not a follower of the royals. No love. No hate. Mostly just apathy.

What I’ve learned, however, is that there are people who talk about the royals like they know them personally and they project their own desires (fantasies?) onto the lives of these titled humans. So perhaps I shouldn’t have been startled by the reactions on Instagram. This Harry and Meghan moment has become a Rorschach test, exposing a nuanced vs. black-and-white lens on life.

Here’s an inkblot. What do you see? A courageous soul telling his story? A whiner playing victim?

I’ve lost a lot of patience for the latter camp. If you’re in the “poor Harry the royal” category, maybe go read another column. I’m not sure I can penetrate that level of dense. I’m keen on addressing the thoughtful reader.

Spare is a book for anyone who knows what it feels like to discover their principles sharply diverge from members of their family. In the era of Donald Trump and media outlets like Fox News enabling his grift, countless families have been shattered, including mine. At its core, that’s not about politics, but morality. You bet your patootie I found Harry’s book irresistible. I too can project.

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Unquestionably, Harry delivers. Imagine, after decades of being hunted and maligned in that den of horror known as the tabloid press, finally being able to tell your side.

It’s a nice bonus that Harry rips media mogul Rupert Murdoch for his toxic form of journalism. I kept thinking of the hardworking journalists in the world having to be lumped in with the greedy “paps” hounding the royals.

Harry’s sense of honor and loyalty and his sustained state of thoughtful conflict come through, especially as he realizes what his new wife is enduring. Taunts like “See ya later, race traitor” and of course the physical encroachments became impossible to tolerate, particularly because of a long-established pattern that “the palace” would rarely stand up to the press.

The sniveling king (then prince) and the equally gutless heir have learned that when negative attention is focused on another member of the family, it keeps the pressure off them. A new precedent could have been set but they chose not to change the tenor of the palace’s relationship with Fleet Street.

One of the common themes in the blowback around Spare is that Harry’s choices would be a disappointment to Diana. If those critics had taken the time to read the book and stopped believing cherry-picked passages, they’d understand how achingly cruel that is. His therapy sessions that ultimately led him to unlock long-suppressed memories of his mother came after he’d met Meghan. That means they were inaccessible for over 20 years. As a boy, he’d survived by convincing himself she was still alive, that she’d freed herself, even knowing in his heart she’d never put her sons through the pain.

Now he was watching another woman he loved become hunted. He had been disappointed not to do more military service but had to bow out of combat because he was considered a “bullet magnet.” He consistently felt like he was bringing danger to people he cared about.

Even knowing this, even after Harry came to his family and asked that they give him a transition year to figure things out and they agreed, even then they went back on their word and yanked his security detail with no warning.

“I recognized the absurdity.” Harry writes. “A man in his mid-30s being financially cut off by his father. But Pa wasn’t merely my father. He was my boss, my banker, my comptroller, keeper of the purse strings throughout my adult life. Cutting me off, therefore, meant firing me and casting me into the void after a lifetime of service. More, after a lifetime of rendering me unemployable.”

Further, he writes, “I’d never asked to be financially dependent on Pa. I’d been forced into this surreal state, this unending Truman Show in which I almost never carried money, never owned a car, never carried a house key, never once ordered anything online.”

Who among us has experienced this?

“There’s a big difference between being a sponge and being prohibited from independence,” Harry writes. “After decades of being rigorously and systematically infantilized, I was now abruptly abandoned and mocked for being immature, for not standing on my own two feet.”

Upon his arrival in North America, should Harry have procured a bike and started delivering for Grubhub? Moved into your neighborhood and subsequently submerged it into a chaotic security nightmare?

Heck, rather than open our minds to this human’s story, let’s throw his point of view into a fire.

“When is someone in this family going to break free to live?” Harry writes.

Good on you, sir. And may you thrive.

Nancy Colasurdo is a columnist and life coach who resides in Hoboken. You can find her on Twitter @nancola.

#prince harry #duke of sussex #spare #nancy colasurdp

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anonymoushouseplantfan · 1 year

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Ina Garten posted about it on Instagram, that she thought it was good. I was disappointed (love her recipes) but reminded myself it was probably PR!

Thanks! Well, she got a lot of press out of their engagement chicken story.

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gangstertogangster · 3 months

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Can I casually like Taylor Swift?

I don’t stan her or know all her music by heart and I haven’t seen the concert movie or her in concert but I just like her and her songs

I like that she stans Pattie Boyd and Ina Garten

I feel like you either love or hate her and I just want to like her without feeling like a terrible person

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bookgeekgrrl · 7 days

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My media this week (14-20 Apr 2024)

📚 STUFF I READ 📚

nothing long! not really a lot of reading at all this week tbh

💖💖 +163K of shorter fic so shout out to these I really loved 💖💖

Appetite (the_deep_magic) - The Eagle of the Ninth: Marcus/Esca, 13K - very satisfying incubus fic

Too many men on the ice (imperfectcircle) - Original Work, Hockey: Himbo Bisexual/Neurotic Gay, Himbo Bisexual/Grumpy Bisexual, endgame Himbo Bisexual/Neurotic Gay/Grumpy Bisexual, 18K - just DELIGHTFUL! Sunshine himbo hockey player meets stressed doctor - they make it work but himbo's grumpy teammate might cause some friction? Luckily polyamory is there to save them all!

The Chase (saltandbyrne) - TW: Sterek, 10K - reread, fave - fun, deliciously filthy & wonderful omegaverse chase/claim

Think I'm Finally Clean (fuck_me_barnes) - MCU: Stucky, 4.6K - reread, fave - "In which sub Bucky wishes for rougher handling by normally gentle dom Steve, and gets probably more than he bargained for."

📺 STUFF I WATCHED 📺

Beyond Paradise - s1, e1-6; s2, e0-3

Ghosts (US) - s3, e6-8

Murdoch Mysteries - s16, e8-13

QI - series S, e14; series U, e1-3

D20: Fantasy High: Junior Year - "The Last Stand" (s21, e15)

D20: Adventuring Party - "Nighttime Ecstasy" (s16, e15)

🎧 PODCASTS 🎧

⭐ Worlds Beyond Number - A County Affair ep1 "CRIME-a-doodle-doo!"

⭐ Worlds Beyond Number - A County Affair ep2 "FAIRmageddon!"

Worlds Beyond Number: Fireside - Fireside Chat for A County Affair ep1: "CRIME-a-doodle-doo!"

Worlds Beyond Number: Fireside - Fireside Chat for A County Affair ep2: "FAIRmageddon!"

The Sporkful - Alyse Whitney Brings Big Dip Energy

Throughline - The Union Strike That Changed The History of Flight

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Reppin our Weird Hometown Traditions

⭐ Hit Parade - We Want It That Way Edition

WikiHole - March Madness (with Rory Scovel, Natasha Leggero and Sabrina Jalees)

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Showgirl Magic Museum

Welcome to Night Vale #246 - A Story about Him

⭐ Switched on Pop - Berlin's Hottest Club is Rico Nasty & Boys Noize

99% Invisible #578 - Anything's Pastable: Eat Sauté Love

Vibe Check - Death and Taxes

Better Offline - How A Chinese Glycine Manufacturer Went Viral ft. Louise Matsakis and Tianyu Fang

It's Been a Minute - An argument for the art of whistling

Ologies with Alie Ward - Columbidology (PIGEONS? YES) Part 1 with Rosemary Mosco

Pop Culture Happy Hour - Hot Ones And Conan O'Brien

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - How to make the best show about New York with John Wilson

Wiser Than Me - Julia Gets Wise with Ina Garten

Throughline - Ralph Nader, Consumer Crusader

Today, Explained - The great American squatter panic

Twenty Thousand Hertz+ - Late Night

⭐ Song Exploder - War "Low Rider"

Endless Thread - Green Memes

Pop Culture Happy Hour - Fallout And What's Making Us Happy

Short Wave - An 11-Year-old Unearthed Fossils Of The Largest Known Marine Reptile

Dear Prudence - My Wife’s Bipolar Diagnosis Is Creating A Rift in Our Marriage. Help!

⭐ Strong Songs - "Heart of Glass" by Blondie

Wait Wait… Don't Tell Me! - Judith Butler

Worlds Beyond Number - WWW #12: Prisoner's Dilemma

Worlds Beyond Number: Fireside - Fireside Chat for WWW ep12 "Prisoner's Dilemma"

🎶 MUSIC 🎶

The Monkees 50 [The Monkees] {2016}

Exzavion Powells

HARDC0RE DR3AMZ [Boys Noize & Rico Nasty] {2024}

Boys Noize

"Low Rider" [War] radio

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