#homemade rub recipes
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Website: https://www.smokeyjoesrubs.com
Address: 306 The Strand, Dianella, WA 6059, Australia
Smokey Joe's Rubs specializes in high-quality, all-natural BBQ rubs and seasonings, handcrafted in Perth, WA. Their range includes unique blends like the Smokey Joe's Outback Rub and Mojo Rubs, designed to enhance the flavor of any meat. They also offer a variety of gluten-free options, ensuring a delicious, guilt-free culinary experience. With a focus on quality and natural ingredients, Smokey Joe's Rubs is dedicated to elevating your cooking game.
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Herbed Pork Chops with Homemade Rub Recipe
Perk up pork chops with this homemade rub that's made with an easy blend of herbs and spices. Pan-fried chops for dinner, anyone?
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"innocent" housewife feeder concepts- holidays edition ❄️
making the most hearty, butter and cream-laden foods, it's cold out, you need food that'll stick to your ribs and keep you warm
packing a thermos full of rich creamy hot cocoa with your lunch every day
trying SOOO many recipes for various holiday gatherings and i make you my official taste-tester (but you end up having more than a taste, we can't let it go to waste!)
constant baking- endless batches of holiday cookies, bars, brownies, cakes, pies from scratch with all-butter crust.... i offer that you take some of the extras to share with your coworkers but you scarf half of them in the car, i've slowly worn down your willpower and you just can't resist
i take you shopping to get new winter clothes because you've way outgrown last year's, although i insist it's only because i love to see you in a nice new fuzzy sweater
movie marathons, cuddling under blankets on the couch with snacks and eggnog, and i can't keep my hands off your full, softening belly
once i've figured out your all-time favorite holiday treats i make sure there's a constant supply available
and of course, lots of TLC after you've overindulged at a party, peppermint tea, ginger, so many belly rubs, plus shortbread cookies and homemade bread to help "settle your stomach"....
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Seongji Yuk x Reader: Treats
G/N. Meeting Seongji for the first time.
"Your teeth are gonna fall out."
The monster of the mountain looks at you, face blank though eyes amused, tanghulu hanging from his mouth.
You've seen him enough times to know there's not much monstrous about him, apart from his overwhelming sweet tooth.
Rumours of this monster were grossly exaggerated.
Maybe you should have had more self preservation than to wander the mountainside when such tales persist. Yet when you found out the monster was a mere man, a mere boy close to your age, who seemed to have a penchant for sugary, syrup covered fruit-
You realised the only thing to fear was cavities and tooth decay.
Still. It helps to have someone with such a reputation on your side, you decide as you toss over a pack of fruit gummies.
A hand shoots out and swiftly catches it.
(Six. You swore you saw six fingers on that hand.)
"Thought you might like these," you shrug as he gives you an odd look, "See ya!"
.
.
After the fifth pack of candies you threw at him, the guilt sets in.
You make your way through now familiar half hidden paths, searching for the monster.
He's there. Sitting in front of his giant wok, surrounded by freshly made tanghulu. Scents of sugar and caramel fill the air.
"You're here again," The words are spoken so quietly you almost missed them. His voice is softer than you expected.
"I bought you more things," you hold out a small plastic bag. He gives you the same look each time.
"Open it," you encourage, shoving it more forcefully in his direction.
With little trust - which is somewhat unfair, you think, considering all the treats he has received from you - he takes the bag.
(Six. You know you saw six fingers on that hand.)
He opens it, peers in, face clouded with caution. Then-
Eyebrows shooting into his hairline, eyes widening almost comically, mouth forming an 'o'-
The tension breaks and he chuckles.
"It's one thing if all the tanghulu you eat rots your teeth, that's your own fault," You rub the back of your head self-consciously as he pulls out more fruit candies, as well as a new toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, mouthwash one after the other. "But if it's because of me then..."
"You're strange," he says, staring at you like you're a puzzle he can't quite figure out.
His words have no bite.
.
.
"Seongji Yuk," he eventually provides his name with reluctance. In exchange, you provide the rest of the banchan and rice to accompany his homemade kimchi.
(Your single braincell stopped functioning the first time you realised he does in fact eat something besides sugar.
It's endearing, this supposed 'monster' making his own tanghulu, making his own kimchi.
You kept comparing his recipe with your own before eventually he asked you to leave out of exasperation.)
"Well Seongji, your kimchi needs more saeujeot," It's not bad, it's just missing something.
"You don't have to eat it," he grumbles, swallowing down an extra big mouthful.
.
.
"So..." You stall, elongating the word, letting it drift into the night. You don't really know Seongji well, hell you don't know him at all. Maybe it would be intrusive to ask.
You hear a rustling beside you. "So what?"
"So… you live on this mountain?"
"I do."
"Huh." You gaze out at the stars. It's a pretty peaceful existence, or it would be if not for Cheonliang. "On your own?"
"Yes."
"Do you ever get lonely?"
A beat. Then - "No."
Oh.
You turn to him and see his face blank but eyes amused. Messy hair and high cheekbones highlighted by the fire.
"Well I can visit you if I get lonely then."
There's a huff of laughter. Seongji knows he can't stop you anyway. He turns back toward the vast inky sky. Takes in the scattered stars. Feels the heat from the flames, a heat that settles into his cheeks.
A smile dances on his lips when he tells you "Okay."
#umm testing out some characterisation#lookism#lookism x reader#seongji yuk#seongji yook x reader#seongji yuk x reader#lookism fic#wannaeatramyeon#seongji yook
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mearps, "i can't believe after 3 years together this is the first time i'm ever learning this", kitchen at home
Family Recipe
Mary Earps x fem!reader
“What’s cookin’ good lookin’” Mary’s booming voice startles you, making you jump and almost drop the sharp knife you’re using to slice the food. “I scared ya didn’t I?” The taller girl chuckles, placing her hands on your hips and a kiss on your cheek.
“Yes, yes you did.” You huff in fake annoyance while playfully giving her a scolding look.
“Awe you’re so adorable all pouty.” Mary moves in a baby voice as one of her big hands reaches up and squeezes your cheeks. You quickly smack her hand away and mumble something under your breath as you turn your body back to the food.
“How was training?” The goalkeeper sighs, leaning against the counter while watching you do your thing.
“Exhausting, annoying, smelly, and any other adjectives I have missed. Besides that what are you stirring up over there, love?” Your girlfriend quirks an eyebrow and attempts to look over your shoulder only for her sight to still be blocked.
“I am starting to make my uncle’s signature pasta sauce so we can have some tonight.” You say, smiling at her giddy state when she starts clapping her hands in excitement.
At every family function your uncle brings his homemade pasta along with his sauce. Mary is always the first to get a plate and the first to get seconds. Nobody in the family knows the recipe besides your uncle, you, and your mom which makes Mary very jealous when you won’t share it with her.
The taller girl reappears behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist and hugging you along with placing random kisses either on your shoulders, head, or cheek. You smile at her clingy behavior, enjoying being close to her after not seeing each other for most of the week.
“Y’know what?” You ask, turning around to face her.
“What?”
“Do you want to help me cook?” Mary looks even more confused considering she doesn’t know anything about how the dish is made.
“I can’t help because I don’t know how.” Your girlfriend huffs while crossing her arms, annoyed that you’re basically rubbing it in her face.
“I think it’s time I can teach you.” You let out a big squeal when the goalkeeper’s arms lift you up into the air and spin you around in glee. “Okay okay, calm down there, cowboy. I gotta be conscious to do so.” You tease which the other girl doesn’t notice from being too caught up putting on an apron she jokingly got for you one day.
“Chef Mary reporting for duty.” She stands tall while fake saluting, making you giggle at her determination and silly nature.
“Alright you goof, you can start by cutting those tomatoes over there.” You point over to the free area with the knife.
“I can’t believe after 3 years together, this is the first time I’m ever learning this.” The taller girl speaks with a certain eagerness and reaches for the veggie and fruit bowl.
“Mary, those are apples.”
A little while later all the ingredients are already in the pot and formed into the signature sauce. You scoop up a little with the wooden spoon and hold her hand under it in case anything spills while blowing to cool it off.
“Time for the final test. Try and see if it’s good.” You hold up the spoon, gesturing for her to open her mouth. Once she does, you angle it up into her mouth in an attempt to make it all in but some drips down the corner of your lips.
“God, that’s so delicious I’ll never get over it.” She groans at the taste immediately wanting more.
“You got a little something right there.” You smile while wiping the remains of the dressing off her chin. While trying to gather it off her face, you don’t notice the loving expression she has while staring down at you. “There you go, my love.” You say, sucking it off your thumb before you swiftly get pulled in for a time-stopping kiss.
The kiss is so unbelievably tender and sweet that you almost faint. You can tell how much love is being poured into it just by the feeling of her lips and her hand cradling your face. Once air becomes a problem, you pull away reluctantly while staring at each other in awe.
“Wow.” You whisper, placing your hands over hers that still rest on your face.
“I love ya. I love ya so so so much.” She finalizes her statement with another big kiss on your lips. In your head, you know that this is forever. No one besides family can know the secret recipes and now she’s your family.
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Covering the Classics Part 9 | Bob Floyd x OC
Summary: After Anna joins him for dinner, Bob knows he needs to accept that they really are just friends. Even though her kisses are perfection. Even though he's falling in love. But what's going to stop Anna when she realizes Bob's poems are very familiar to her?
Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, Bob in gray sweatpants, eventually 18+
Length: 5700 words
Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)
Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!
Bob couldn't imagine a world in which he'd go to this much trouble to make the perfect dinner for a woman who he was falling in love with, only to hear her say the words just friends. But apparently it was the world he was living in, because he spent days comparing recipes from both Bradley and Jake, hoping to make something that Anna would find irresistible.
"You should make my lasagna," Jake said for the tenth time at work on Friday morning.
Bradley snorted. "Great idea, as long as you never want to see her again. Make my homemade pasta," he told Bob. "I already gave you the recipe."
Bob just kept nodding and agreeing with whatever they said, hoping they'd eventually be quiet. Anna was coming over tonight, and he still didn't have a solid plan in mind beyond trying to convince her he'd be worth her time. That it was okay to be more than friends.
While the guys argued, Bob got himself ready to get in the air with Phoenix. He must have looked flustered, because she rubbed her thumb gently across the back of his hand when he stood next to her in the hangar. "You seem nervous. Are you still trying to figure out what to make for dinner?"
"Yeah," he replied quietly.
"Oh, Bob. She's not going to care what you make. It could be a grilled cheese sandwich."
"I always burn those," he said with a small smile. "I just feel like this is pointless. I invited her over anyway even though I know she just wants to be friends, but I'm still standing here hoping for more. I shouldn't be doing this, even if we did makeout in her office."
Nat sighed and asked, "Do you want my grandma's recipe for bruschetta chicken? You liked it when you tried it at her house last summer, and it's not that hard to make."
His eyes lit up. "Please."
He'd only have a little bit of time to himself to prepare the meal and cook it before Anna came over, and he listened as Nat called her grandma and asked her to send it over. Before they were even called out of the hangar to start the day, he had a photo of the handwritten recipe in his phone.
"Nat, you're a lifesaver."
"Just save me some of the leftovers."
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Friday was going so well for Anna, she almost forgot to be nervous about dinner. She met with the dean to discuss how her classes were going, and he even brought up the word tenure which sent her into a giddy spiral where she treated herself to a candy bar from the vending machine which she couldn't really afford. She carried it out to eat lunch in the quad with her friends along with her regular, uninspired sandwich and ginger ale.
She hadn't mentioned a word about going to Bob's house for dinner, but she was absolutely certain both ladies knew about it. She almost found it comical the way they were trying to get her to say something about it, but Jessica was clearly ready to boil over.
"Hi," Anna greeted, biting into her Snickers bar as she settled on the bench between them. Advanced Calculus casually offered her some carrots and hummus while Jessica's cheeks started to grow a furious shade of pink.
"When were you going to tell us Bob invited you over for dinner tonight?" she exclaimed.
Anna shrugged and said, "I was probably just going to tell you about it on Monday since it's nothing because we are just friends. It's only as exciting as it would be if I went over to your place for dinner."
"That's exciting, too!" Jessica said. "You should absolutely come over for dinner! But you're wrong, because it's not as exciting as Bob cooking dinner for you!"
"Jess. Chill out," came the voice from Anna's other side. "She'll learn soon enough that dinner cooked by one of the Top Gun boys is essentially a marriage proposal on a plate. A very sexy and delicious marriage proposal. You and he will be sleeping together in no time."
Anna chewed up the last bite of her Snickers and shook her head. "You're both wrong. Bob and I are just friends. The dinner means nothing, and we're not going to sleep together."
"Oh, please!" Jessica was back to practically shouting now. "If you think he's actually okay with all the making out, then you've lost your mind. He doesn't want it to be meaningless. He likes you."
Anna looked at her feet. "I know he does. I like him too."
"Then stop stringing him along! I don't understand what the problem is here, Anna."
She sat quietly now, no longer feeling so great as she picked at her sandwich.
"Hey, I know Jess sounds like an excitable terrier, but maybe you need a little tough love," Advanced Calculus said as she dipped a carrot into the hummus. "You can talk to us, you know. You can tell us what's wrong."
"Nothing's wrong," Anna whispered as her mind flooded with thoughts of Kevin and what he might be up to at the moment.
Jess took a deep calming breath before she said, "There's just no good reason to put your dream man in the friend zone. And don't even try to lie and say Bob Floyd isn't perfection."
"He is," Anna whispered. Other than her infatuation with Sky Writing, Bob was the closest thing to a dream come true that she'd ever encountered before. But she did have her reasons, and she was too embarrassed to talk about it out loud. She was certain that Jess already knew her current financial state was in ruins, and it might be nice to have her friends understand where she was coming from, but she didn't want them to pity her. That was the last thing she needed right now. "You know what, I think I'm going to get ready for my next lecture."
She was on her feet and rushing away as her friends called after her, but she didn't stop walking until she reached her office. She was not going to cry over this, and she definitely didn't want to cancel on Bob. The only thing she could do to calm down was look at all of the books on her shelves, letting her gaze glide over the colorful spines. Then she read the note from Bob that was tucked in her copy of Papillon.
Freedom would feel like being so in love, you'd willingly let another person lock you to their side.
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Bob had a fully stocked kitchen filled with a nice set of pots and pans and sharp knives and anything else he could possibly want, but right now, it was like he'd never cooked anything before in his life. Nat's grandmother actually had atrocious handwriting, and he could barely make out the measurements in the photo he had to work with.
"Basil," he muttered to himself, grabbing the leafy greens from the cutting board and wondering why it looked like he was supposed to use three cups of them. "I didn't even buy that much!"
He took a deep breath and walked around his kitchen, trying to clear his head. Anna was going to grab an Uber. She would be arriving in about an hour with wine and dessert. He wanted to feed her the most delicious meal he could muster, but right now he was just looking at the chicken breast on the plate in front of him like he'd never seen food before.
And he just knew Jake and Bradley never had to work this hard for a woman in their lives. Jake could rely mostly on his looks if he wanted to, and Bradley was the luckiest person he knew, reuniting with the love of his life after ten years and getting married approximately a day later. "No," he whispered, "that's not fair to them." He knew he was wrong. He knew both of them worked to get where they ended up, and he shouldn't be putting himself down so much.
He glared at the chicken and picked up a knife. "This is fine. No problem." He had to fudge some of the measurements which made no sense, and he'd suggest to Nat that maybe her grandmother should take an eye exam, but the recipe really wasn't too terribly hard. Soon he had the browned chicken in the oven, and he set to work on the bruschetta topping and started boiling some water for the pasta. He was just adding another tablespoon of balsamic vinegar to the tomatoes and basil when he heard Anna's beautiful laughter.
Bob nearly knocked the bowl to the floor in his haste to get to her. After grabbing a dish towel for his hands, he rushed toward his front door and saw her on his porch. She was wearing a little sundress that he'd seen her in before with her worn out denim jacket over it, and he froze a few feet inside his screen door just so he could look at her. She was juggling a shopping bag and a bottle of wine, and that's when he realized she was talking to Suzanne.
"Oh, no, I'm not in the Navy," she was saying as she tossed her beautiful, red hair over her shoulder. "I'm a professor at San Diego State University. My name's Anna."
She stretched her hand out, and then Bob heard Suzanne's voice. "I'm Suzanne, and that's my cat, Sylvester. I must say, I had no idea Robert got himself a girlfriend. And such a pretty one!"
He desperately wanted to interrupt their conversation before he could hear what Anna's response was going to be, but he just couldn't. She was standing there in the last rays of the setting sun, blushing as she said, "Bob and I are actually just friends. Just good friends."
There was a beat of silence before Suzanne laughed. "Have you seen him? And he's even sweeter than he is handsome!"
Anna was laughing nervously, and Bob's heart was pounding, but he opened the screen door to bail her out anyway. "Hey," he greeted as naturally as he could, and then Anna's apprehensive gaze met his. God, all he wanted to do was drag her inside, push her up against his living room wall and kiss until she realized he wasn't going to hurt her.
"Bob," she whispered, taking a small step in his direction. Her eyes were wide and perceptive, like she could read his every thought on his face. She cleared her throat and said, "I brought wine and some cookies."
Helpless to do much of anything else, he smiled at her. "Dinner's almost ready." Then he leaned further out the door and said, "Hi, Suzanne."
His next door neighbor looked delighted as she glanced between him and Anna. "I was just talking to your charming friend here, Robert. Cooking dinner for someone certainly sounds romantic to me."
Bob was gripping the door frame as he watched Anna's face fill with panic. Then she blurted out, "Why doesn't Suzanne join us?"
-------------------------------
The only thing Anna could think to do was sabotage the dinner she'd been looking forward to all week. She watched Bob's face fall slightly as he realized she invited his next door neighbor to join them for a very platonic dinner. And since Bob was the sweetest man Anna had ever met, he recovered immediately, turned to Suzanne and said, "You're more than welcome."
Ten minutes later, Bob was opening the bottle of cheap wine she'd brought while Anna watched the veins in his hands. He was graceful and lovely, and Suzanne was talking nonstop as he poured three glasses. She had nobody to blame but herself for inviting a third wheel along. The older woman was really more of a safety net. Someone to prevent Anna from kissing Bob. Someone to stop her from falling completely in love with him.
The whole house smelled amazing, and she knew this dinner was supposed to be just for her. She hadn't eaten a real meal like this, other than at the cookout, in months and months. The first bite of chicken, bruschetta and pasta was delicious enough that she moaned softly. Bob watched her take a second bite, and it was incredible. The third bite left her staring at him in wonder.
"You're the best cook in the world," Anna informed him, cutting across Suzanne talking about her cat. She didn't even care if she was being rude, the food was perfect. And it would have somehow been even better if the two of them were alone.
Bob blushed and took a sip of the wine that Anna wished was better than it was. "Thanks. Uh, it was a new recipe. I've never made it before tonight."
Suzanne took a bite and said, "Robert is an excellent cook and a real gentleman. He always makes sure I have groceries, and he picks up a little something for me if he gets dinner on his way home from work."
As Bob's cheeks grew redder, Anna's heart beat faster. "A real gentleman," she echoed, knowing he'd take care of anyone who needed something.
"Yes," Suzanne said. "You don't see many of them around. Never seen many myself."
Neither had Anna, and after she blew her life to bits, she'd probably never see one again. She listened to Bob and Suzanne talk about their favorite game shows, and she cleaned her plate before either of them had finished. All of the toast and sad sandwiches she'd been eating weren't really cutting it, and she knew that. She also didn't want to get another piece of chicken and seem like a mooch.
"Can I get you more?" Bob asked as he stood on the opposite side of the table in his worn jeans and snug white shirt. "There's plenty left."
Anna shook her head, but he reached for her plate anyway. While he was in the kitchen, Suzanne quickly finished eating and downed the rest of her wine. Softly, just for Anna to hear, she said, "He is a very nice man. I hope I see you around here in a less friendly capacity." Then she called out, "Robert? I need to go. I hear Sylvester outside bugging for food. Thanks for dinner, and enjoy your evening."
"Night, Suzanne," he replied, and the older woman bustled off without another word, leaving Anna alone with Bob when he returned with two plates refilled with food. "She's a character."
Anna laughed, but she could tell Bob was hesitant to say too much now. Probably because she'd dashed the mood in the first place. "I'm sorry I suggested she join us," she told him sincerely, shaking her head. "All week long, I'd been looking forward to talking about books with you."
As she poked at her chicken, afraid of what he was going to say, he said, "Once you finish eating, I could show you my books. I don't have as many as you do, but maybe there's something you'd like to borrow in the mix. And then I'll drive you home."
"I can get an Uber," she insisted, taking another bite of the perfectly cooked dinner.
"And I can just as easily drive you."
He was a gentleman. She wasn't going to leave here in an Uber no matter what she said. "Alright."
----------------------------
"You have books in every room!" Anna exclaimed as she walked around his house nibbling on a cookie. The wine she brought was kind of terrible, and so were the grocery store cookies, but Bob didn't mind. She ate two full plates of the dinner he cooked, and now that Suzanne was gone, she seemed more herself.
"I have a system," he insisted as she sat down on his living room floor to inspect a stack of paperbacks.
"I'm not buying it," she said, glancing at him over her shoulder.
"Try me. The living room is poetry. The extra bedroom is mysteries. The dining room is true crime."
"What's in your bedroom?" she asked, flipping through a collection by Robert Frost.
Bob wanted to tell her that his bedroom was where he wrote his own poetry. And that they had begun to turn into a collection all about her. "Romance," he said.
She laughed softly, such a pretty sound. "I'm assuming you don't have any Vonnegut? No soul massacring, unhappy endings?"
"None," he promised. "You won't find any of those around here."
She was skimming a page as she muttered, "Good. I've had enough of that anyway." Then she stood and carried the Frost poems to another small pile on his coffee table. She rooted around and pulled out a volume by Walt Whitman before asking, "Could I borrow these two?"
Bob was admiring how perfect she looked in his house when she met his eyes with her pretty brown ones. "Of course," he said, dropping down onto the couch as he finished his own cookie. "Anything you want."
She stood and carried the books over to her purse before sitting down a few feet away from him. "What I want is to help you organize your books for real. Have you ever heard of a bookshelf before?"
"Never," he replied innocently. "What's that?"
She laughed and scooted a little closer. "You know those big, wooden things that were holding all the books when we met at that store in North Park? Remember that day?"
He knew she was just joking around, but as he memorized the pattern of her freckles, he said, "I will never forget that day."
Once again, Anna initiated the kiss, and once again, Bob was helpless to pump the brakes. She leaned in close with her hand on his knee and brushed her lips against his. It was so sweet, he was almost able to ask her to stop. Even though it felt too good, he was nearly able to tell her he couldn't do this. But being tortured was worth it. That was the worst part.
He let her do what she wanted, and her soft hands found their way to his face, knocking his glasses askew on their way into his hair. He wanted to touch her, but he was afraid he'd lose himself in these kisses that meant so much more to him than they did to her. He counted to ten slowly in his mind, savoring every touch and taste, letting Anna settle against his thigh. Then he broke the kiss, leaving her hovering there, surprise on her face.
She pressed her lips together, and turned her face toward his front door. "I'll never forget that day either."
He nodded as her hands fell away from his hair and his face, and he whispered, "Grab the books you want to borrow, and I'll drive you home."
----------------------------
"He's a gentleman," Anna groaned in her bed on the floor of her tiny apartment the following morning. It was Saturday, and she didn't have much she needed to accomplish today which would leave her plenty of time to think about the drive home in Bob's truck and the way he walked her to her door. She didn't kiss him again, but he always seemed to be close enough that she could feel his body heat in the chilly night air. Even now, when she grabbed at some strands of her hair, she swore she could still smell his fresh scent there.
She needed to get out. She grabbed her phone and took the longest walk imaginable. Her legs were burning by the time she stopped in a corner store for something to eat for lunch, but the sandwich was almost as bad as the ones she had been making for herself. Nothing would be as good as what Bob cooked, and he served it up last night like it was no big deal at all.
As Anna started the long walk back to her apartment, she groaned while she blasted her music. She had invited his elderly neighbor to join them for dinner, and then she had kissed him again. She was so embarrassing. She'd never been like this when she was in New Jersey, never doing the most mortifying things over and over.
She didn't go home for a long time. She walked through an enormous park and looked at a fountain while she daydreamed about all of her unfinished manuscripts. When that started to hurt too much, she watched the storm clouds that were rolling in from the coast and thought it might be nice to get soaking wet. Then a few fat raindrops started to hit her face as she realized that she wouldn't be able to replace her phone if it got destroyed.
"Damn it," she muttered, starting to run through the park under the cover of the trees. The sky was quickly getting darker as she tried to stay under awnings and overhangs as much as possible until she reached her apartment building. Her clothing was soaked, but her phone was still in working order when she ran inside, dripping all over the welcome mat in the small entryway.
She desperately wanted to cry, but that wouldn't solve anything, so she took a long shower instead. She washed and braided her hair, and then she painted her nails. When she finally picked up her phone again, she had a new message from Bob.
Bob Floyd: Taking your advice and buying one of those bookshelves? Was that what they were called? Which one do you think is better?
He had attached two screenshots of nice looking shelves from Ikea that she'd never be able to afford at the moment. She smiled as she typed back to him while she heated up a can of soup for dinner.
Yes, they are called bookshelves. Are you sure you know how to use them? I like the navy blue one better.
The flavorless chicken noodle soup went well with Anna's mood as she sat on the floor and watched a show on her phone. Part of her wanted to know what her friends were up to, but she didn't want to have to tell them about last night. She knew Bob and Jess would be going out to play Dungeons & Dragons soon anyway, but she dropped her spoon in the bowl when Bob wrote back again.
Bob Floyd: I think I'll pick it up tomorrow and make it my rainy Sunday project. Feel like helping me build it?
"Oh, Anna. Don't."
-------------------------------
Bob pulled up to Anna's building on Sunday afternoon after stopping to pick up the shelf. It had been pouring rain since last night, and he had to wrap his new furniture box in a tarp to protect it in the bed of his truck. But this would be a great way to spend the afternoon. He could make two cups of tea, and she could help him organize his books. They didn't need to kiss anymore. He would see to it that they didn't. He could handle this whole thing without issue.
He left his truck idling at the curb, and Anna came running outside like she'd been waiting for him. He grabbed his umbrella and met her halfway, shouting, "I was going to walk up and get you!" over the sound of the rain. She joined him under the umbrella, her denim jacket pretty wet as she shrugged.
"The rain's okay. It reminds me of New Jersey."
Once he opened the door and helped her scramble in, he ran around to the other side of the truck. He was barely able to find a dry spot on his shirt so he could wipe off his glasses, and when he yanked the hem up, he could feel Anna's eyes on his body. There was no sense in feeling self conscious about the way he looked now, because nothing else was going to happen. Last night had to be the end of that.
"You ready?" he asked, cranking the key in the ignition when she nodded. His wipers were going full speed as he drove her back to his house for the second visit in one weekend. "Thanks for helping with this. I kind of realized that having everything on one big shelf makes more sense. Especially if I keep borrowing books from you."
Her laugh was soft as she said, "If you don't borrow my books, then nobody will."
"Same goes for mine," he replied easily as he headed toward the beach. "But don't you dare dog ear my pages."
Now she laughed louder. "I read most of Whitman last night before I fell asleep, and there's nary a bent page in sight."
"That's what I like to hear." When he pulled up in front of his house, he handed her the umbrella and his keys. "Go ahead and let yourself in, and I'll unload the box."
She just gaped at him in response and asked, "Don't you need help carrying it?"
"Nah," he replied, popping his door open, "I can get it."
Bob struggled a little bit with the tarp before sliding the massive box closer to the edge of the truck tailgate. Every movement was made slower by the pounding rain in his face, but he managed to tip it into his arms. It was heavy, but not too bad, and his grip on the wet cardboard was good enough for him to get it inside the house. Anna was standing on the porch, holding open his screen door with the umbrella folded up at her feet, and he accidentally brushed against her with his arm as he maneuvered himself through the door.
"Sorry."
"It's okay," she said, her voice a little breathy as she let the screen door close and helped him prop the box against the wall. "This is massive."
"I guess now I can buy more books," he said with his hands on his hips while he dripped all over the place. "I'm going to get changed quickly, and then we can build the shelf and organize it, and then I'll make dinner."
Her eyes lit up. "You'll make dinner again?"
"Yeah. I was going to see if I can attempt a grilled cheese without burning it. I'll be right back." And then he headed upstairs to his bedroom where he had clean undershirts, some sweatpants and all of his favorite books.
---------------------------
Anna was halfway through unboxing and organizing the shelf pieces on the floor when Bob walked back downstairs. She'd removed her denim jacket, and her leggings and tank top were mostly dry, and she'd settled on the floor with the instruction book. "It looks like we'll need a screwdriver or a drill...."
Her sentence tapered off when she looked up at Bob just casually standing there in one of his white shirts and a pair of gray sweatpants and neatly combed, damp hair. The ability to speak escaped her.
"I can grab my toolbox," he told her, adjusting the waistband of his sweatpants before disappearing toward the kitchen. She needed to lie down. She stretched out on the floor and stared at the ceiling as rain pelted the window next to her.
"Oh my god," she whispered before biting down on her lip. She wanted him. She liked every damn thing about him, and then he had to look and smell and sound so good on top of it all. The Walt Whitman poems weren't the only thing she had read last night. Sky Writing's words from her favorite poems were also in her mind, and she couldn't shake them. Anna had just rolled into her side, staring at the instructions without actually seeing them, when he walked back in.
"Are you okay?"
"Great," she said, voice raspy. She was in fact not great. She was the opposite of great. When Bob handed her the toolbox and said he was going to make two mugs of tea, she took the time to pull herself together. Sweaty palms glided along her leggings, and she read the instructions through. It seemed simple enough, and she had the hardware in order by the time Bob returned with two steaming mugs.
"Thanks," she whispered as he settled onto the floor next to her. She knew this was how good things would be if she could date Bob. Hot tea and homemade meals and someone around who loved books. "You're really sweet."
He didn't say anything as he sipped his tea, so Anna did the same. It was raining so hard, she couldn't tell if what she heard was thunder or not, but inside Bob's house, everything was warm and cozy. "Let's get started," he finally said, leaning in front of her to set his mug on the windowsill.
They spoke quietly, mostly about the shelf, while she handed him hardware and tools. Anna found herself distracted as she watched his hair dry and lighten in color as they worked together. Every bump of his muscular arm against hers felt intentional, but she couldn't tell for sure, and she was too afraid to ruin this friendship beyond repair. Especially after what her friends had told her at lunch on Friday.
"I need the screwdriver," he said, bumping her gently with his elbow as he held two perpendicular pieces of wood in place.
"I can get it," she replied, finally refocused on the task before her. "I'll screw it in." She tried to reach in front of him, but he was too tall. When he moved his arms a little further apart, she popped up between them so she was standing between his body and the shelf. "I'll only take a second."
She could feel Bob's warm breath against her ear, and all he could think was that she would fit perfectly in his arms if he decided to just drop what he was holding and wrap them around her instead. "Take your time," he murmured, because of course his arms wouldn't get tired in this position. She fumbled the screw. His body was immaculate, and it was all she could think about as he exhaled and tickled her hair.
"I'm trying," she whispered, fumbling the screw again. Finally she had it in place, and Bob released the shelf, but he didn't move away from her.
"Think you can screw the last two in as well? Then we'll be done."
She nodded and decided to go slower, savor this tiny bit of intimacy and pretend he was hers. Then it was done.
"It looks good."
She barely had to turn to look at him over her shoulder. "It's a nice shelf. How do you want to arrange your books?"
He was still standing close as he said, "Poetry on the top? Since it's my favorite?"
"Yeah," she told him with a laugh. "Banish it to the top where nobody but you can reach it."
He cocked his head and leaned in closer. "Are you insulting the poetry or commenting on my height?"
"A bit of both," she replied right away. The living was darker now from the storm and from the time of day, but she could see his smile perfectly.
"Come on, Anna. We both know you love the poetry. You borrowed two volumes the other day."
She only hummed in response before ducking away from him and reaching for a stack of his books. She handed them to him one at a time, commenting on them like she was giving each a bad review. "Oh, this one is too flowery. Too many words and no substance." She handed him another after he shelved the first one. "This author put all their best works at the beginning of the collection. The second half is terrible."
Bob chuckled as she picked up a book that she knew was a favorite of his. "Hey, you better watch what you say about that one."
She waved it in the air, unable to reach the top shelf, and he snatched it out of her hand. "I'm going to be brutally honest," she said softly, and Bob's hand rested on her back almost like a warning. "I loved it."
He smiled and let his fingers trail along her back as he nodded toward the stairs. "Want to help me tackle the mystery books in the extra bedroom?"
"Sure," she told him, leading the way to the steps. "But first, you have to tell me why you like poetry so much."
"What's not to like?" he replied as she started up. "All of the emotions are there. You're allowed to write about any combination of emotions that you're feeling at any given time. And I think that's pretty cool."
Anna's steps slowed a little as she considered his words. "Write?" she asked, turning to look back at him as he made his way up behind her. "Did you say write?"
"Uh. I did. Yeah."
Truly, she loved reading poetry, but she didn't have much of a knack for writing it. She didn't even think she was good enough for PoetsAmongUs. "What's something you've written?"
Bob laughed, and Anna stumbled on the top step as he said, "Just some amateur gibberish like, 'Devotion woven into every breath I take. Love that knows no boundaries, no end.' Nothing amazing."
She gripped the banister to keep herself upright, and then she spun and sat down hard on the top step. Suddenly she felt like she couldn't breathe. She knew those words intimately. She knew the whole fucking poem by heart. She knew everything else he had written as well, because she'd been reading his poetry for years.
"Bob," she croaked, and he rushed toward her, hands gentle on her ankle and leg.
"Are you okay? Did you twist it?"
"Bob," she gasped, reaching for the front of his undershirt and pulling him closer so he was focused on her face. "You're Sky Writing."
--------------------------
BOB IS SKY WRITING, ANNA. What the hell are you going to do now, babe? Please, make good choices. Thank you @beyondthesefourwalls
PART 10
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#bob floyd x oc#robert bob floyd x oc#robert bob floyd#bob floyd#bob floyd fic#robert floyd imagine#bob floyd imagine#bob floyd fanfiction#robert floyd x oc#robert floyd fanfiction#robert floyd fic#robert floyd#top gun imagine#top gun maverick imagine#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick fanfiction#roosterforme#covering the classics
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It’s 🌺anon here! If you’re okay with it, I’d love to hear about what your genius brain comes up with about the Toman boys with an omega who loves to do domestic things- such as cooking for them, maybe crocheting or knitting them cute sweaters, whatever! I’d love love to hear your take on it, if you’re comfortable! Keep taking care of yourself and keep up the good work✨
-🌺anon
TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE ★
୨୧ alpha! Tokyo revengers x omega! Reader
— their reactions to an omega who loves to do domestic things (pairing (not in right order): mikey, draken, baji, chifuyu, taiju, sanzu, inupi, kisaki, hanma, kakucho, kazutora, takemichi)
my masterlist : ☆
(of course!! absolutely anything for you 🌺anon!!<33 (≧▽≦) I hope it isn't too repetitive!)
MIKEY
now we all know mikey would be so happy if his omega loved to cook.
he would brag about it to his friends, rubbing it in their nose that only he can have fresh homemade meals and snacks everyday.
he'll feel so lucky! he will have a clear sense of purpose and accomplishment if you tell him that you like to take care of him in this way. no because his omega is a good cook and a cutie? an absolute win.
he thinks your cooking is the best and won't eat anything else, luckily that's your hobby so it doesn't feel like a chore.
always praises you for how well you cook, he expresses his contentment in such an exaggerated way just to show that's he's really appreciative of your efforts!
thanks you after each meal and asks you if you can also cook him lunchbox. he's practically begging you, so you can't say no<3 but of course if you refuse he won't force you, he'll insist every time he sees you and will get a bit pouty for a while but that's about it.
KAKUCHO
alpha kakucho is so sweet he feels so moved by your gifts:(
like yes of course he'll wear anything his adorable omega made for him. you're so skilled he's always in awe.
buys you more stuff so you can always have materials if you want to sew or knit something.
he's scenting every single piece of work, and whenever you throw away an item you're disappointed with, he'll secretly grab it back whenever you're not around. because none of your work is worthless in his eyes!
he's very admirative of what you do in general, seeing his omega so immersed and passionate about an activity melts his heart!!
and when you shyly gift him a sweater for his birthday he's ecstatic, thanking you with wet kisses and a slight blush across his face.
SANZU
in sanzu's mind, this is the way things should be anyways.
but fuck, when he sees you cooking for the both of you he feels so great. especially if you do take into consideration his taste before yours.
he wants to marry you on the spot.
your need to take care of your alpha makes him really appreciative, although a bit cocky at times.
like, you're just so eager to please your alpha:( it's socendearing and makes him a tad bit more protective.
teases you a lot, he thinks it's really cute of you. he'll wrap his arms around your waist and give you kisses, but there are times when he'll just straight up slap your ass. he loves that you're too busy, hands full of utensils to actually hit him back or anything.
when you don't cook for him he's usually eating trash, so he actually feels really grateful (not that he'll admit it).
KISAKI
when he discovers you love cooking during your free time, he thinks that's really cute of you<3
obviously his interests are very opposed to yours and he loves to find a bit of sweetness and delicacy in his omega.
now kisaki is protective, so he's a bit restless when you start to use a knife or anything that could burn you and harm you.
kindly demands you to step back while he gets the tray of snacks out of the oven while praising you for being a good girl and listening well to what he tells you.
nothing tastes bad when it's you who cooks. but if you ever did mess up a recipe and didn't catch on it yet (because you always make kisaki taste it first) he will politely and gently tell you it probably lacks a bit of salt.
you chuckle a bit when you finally taste the food and it's just awful, kissing your alpha for being so sweet with you<3
TAIJU
taiju is just really pleased and satisfied by his omega.
like you're so perfect for him and his stereotypical lifestyle (sorry).
you cook, you clean and overall make sure your home is well maintained. taiju thinks you fit your role so well and he couldn't be any more pleased with you.
and when he sees you knit items and blankets for your nest, he can't help but think you'll make a wonderful mother for your future pups.
you'll make warm clothes for them, make sure they eat well and keep them healthy.
you just don't know how much you trigger his instincts which command him to protect and provide.
in his eyes, you only need to stay at home while he takes care of everything else. just be that sweet and submissive omega he fell in love with<3
HANMA
hanma always knew you had a thing for decoration, always buying small stuff, curtains, lamps, carpets and other furniture to embellish your home.
he knew that as an omega you liked it cozy and warm, and seeing you walk around the house with a serious and focused face always made him smile.
he likes to observe you while you replace the same vase for the ninth time. he doesn't really see the difference but you seem to take this to heart.
you're always moving things around, needing to find the perfect spot for each item. you like your home organised, you often apologise for never stopping until you're satisfied, but he waves you off saying he doesn't mind at all.
gives you his opinion once in a while about something, you think it's because he wants to take part in the process but it's actually because he knows you won't stop pacing until someone decides for you.
he'll sometimes walk across some store which sells the type of furniture he knows you like and deliver it to your place.
you give hanma a call to thank him, he acts like it's no big deal but you know he likes to spoil you.
later asks for a repay though. if he doesn't ask for something sexual, he'll force you to cuddle him. it clearly depends of your mood, he's really good at reading you.
your nest is really well adjusted and despite being an alpha he likes to spend his time here when he's over at your place.
INUPI
he's also the best!!
when you tell him you like manual activities, he's super involved and admirative of your dedication.
he can watch you for hours in silence while you do your thing.
you repair his damaged clothes, sew back buttons which have fallen off, you literally do anything and inupi feels so grateful to have you.
how could such a dedicated and loving omega fall in love with him? he's forever thankful and constantly showing you his love.
although you love to cook, he sometimes insists he does it too so you can actually rest. like, let your alpha take care of you the way you deserve it, inupi is more than happy to look after you.
whenever you're cooking, he's the first to taste and he actually gives great feedback so you can improve.
you like his honesty and praises whenever you do something for him.
KAZUTORA
kazutora is in love with whatever you do. so it's not surprising when he's the first to encourage you into doing what you want.
he'll gladly let you do his hair if it means you'll let out happy purrs.
you've recently started to craft small pins and jewelry. having long hair and the ears pierced, kazutora was the perfect guinea pig.
and of course he lets you test out your creations. you tie up his hair, adorning it with a handmade ribbon full of beads and flowers. you also decorate him with beautiful pink earrings and take countless pictures of the end result.
kazutora never complains and even asks you if you have anything you want him to try.
he loves the attention you give him but most of all he's really proud for having such a skillful omega.
DRAKEN
you always drop by draken's work place whenever it's lunchtime to give him his homemade meal.
you're quick and you're back home as soon as he thanked you but you wouldn't stop this little ritual for nothing.
you really like to do things for your alpha and turns out you love cooking, it's only natural you bake the most delicious food for him!
as for draken, he absolutely loves it. sometimes he has to fight for his food because mikey keeps trying to steal it but he's overall really thankful.
but he doesn't take your kindness for granted and really often takes you out to get icecream or to places you want to visit.
you're always so thoughtful you bring him his gloves whenever it's winter, you also bring him the wrench he forgot at home...
and when he praises you for being so good to him you feel complete and aligned with your primal instincts, that's the effect draken has on you<3
BAJI
baji likes that side of you.
even if he appears a bit grumpy, you always manage to lift his mood up.
you leave little notes all around the house and he loves it, even if they're cheesy as hell. they're all decorated, colourful and well made.
he collects them, puts some of his favourite inside his wallet and reads them sometimes when he's feeling down and you're not here.
your sweet words about how much you love him are endearing and he teases you about it.
he shows you as well how much he loves you when he gets back from work, he needs to make sure his omega feel that her love is reciprocated!
he also loves it when you give him goodbye kisses, helping him get his stuff ready and giving him a sweet smelling meal you made after waking up.
he knows your love language is act of service, so he likes it a lot when you do stuff for him. but he doesn't fail to show his appreciation even though he's not very verbal about it most of the time.
he'd rather shower you with his smell or let you choose the restaurant each time you go out!
CHIFUYU
why did his omega have to be so cute??
you absolutely love plants, always taking a look at every flower shop you see and not resisting the urge to bring some to your house.
the first time chifuyu bought you flowers was because he knew omegas liked sweet and soft smells. he was courting you and chose his gift diligently. however he didn't expect you'd be this overjoyed.
then he learnt about your absolute love for plants and that was it. he's now bringing you flowers every time he goes out, either a big bouquet of roses, tiny succulents, a bunches of dried flowers or vases that suit your tastes.
he's more than happy to do so and even helps you place them around the house, giving you his well appreciated opinion.
he will also try and learn the name of plants and flowers, especially your favourites, so he can hold a conversation about your favourite topic!
he'll take you to parks and huge glasshouses because his omega deserves the best! and he loves to make you smile<3
TAKEMICHI
it's soo calming to takemichi, he loves it.
when you're both cuddled into the warmth and safety of your nest, your hands are rapidly working on a knitted scarf without a word. it makes takemichi so sleepy, watching you so focused.
he scrutinises every expression of your face, the comfort of it all making him spread more of his pheromones so you both smell like him.
it brings him a homely feeling he can't get enough of.
he watches you silently, occasionally rubbing his scent glands all over you or your work.
once you're done, he's always admirative of your work.
he sometimes asks you to teach him the basics of knitting. he wants to get closer to you by trying out your hobby.
#a/b/o tokyo revengers#alpha tokyo revengers#cannelle★#hybrid tokyo revengers#omegaverse tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers a/b/o#tokyo revengers headcanons#tokyo revengers hybrid#tokyo revengers omegaverse#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyorev x reader#tokrev x reader#omega tokyo revengers#yandere tokyo revengers#alpha mikey#alpha!baji#draken imagine#inupi headcanons#tokyo revengers omegaverse headcanons#alpha kazutora#kazutora headcanons#mikey imagines#tr omegaverse#takemichi x reader#chifuyu omegaverse#alpha chifuyu#taiju x reader#alpha taiju#anime omegaverse#hanma x reader
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Hey!! I've been binge-reading your works bc they're all so good, and I especially loved the ex-bf Gojo fic💖Since you're taking requests, I was wondering if you could do something like that with Eren? Thank you in advance if you do end up accepting this!
Heyy tysm I'm glad you like them! Here are some Ex-Bf Eren headcannons <33
lil bit smutty
Ex-Bf Eren who still thinks about you non stop. No one he has met since compares to you so he doesn't even entertain anyone as he's so confident your the one for him. He even brought the same shampoo and conditioner you use just so he can feel close to you.
Ex-Bf Eren who messages you once a week making sure your okay. He knows you wont answer his message but the little seen under his message is enough for him.
Ex-Bf Eren who kept your recipe to your homemade cookies and spends his weekends trying to replicate yours. But no matter how many attempts they are never as good.
Ex-Bf Eren who stalks all of your socials and finds out what your doing and where you are. He's too nervous to go up to you knowing you didn't end on the best terms but he's content with watching you laugh with your friends at the bar, but he cant help but feel jealous and protective of you as he sees other men in the club eye you up.
Ex-Bf Eren who goes to the same club you go to every Friday night so he can see you, and one night when one of the men get too close to you and he can see the uncomfortable expression on your face he's there Infront of you shielding you before punching the guy right in the face and pulling you out of the club.
Ex-Bf Eren who just stare's at you as you shout at him about what just happened. He couldn't care less, he knows you see him every week, he knows you stare at him when he's not looking and he knows you haven't even touched anyone else since you broke up.
Ex-Bf Eren who's now pulling you in by your waist and putting his lips to yours in a slow passionate kiss. You dont protest and kiss him back melting in his grasp and he's smirking at how easy you give into him.
Ex-Bf Eren who has you moaning as his fingers rub on your clothed clit as he drives to his place. The cocky smirk plastered all over his face as he listens to your pleas 'ren please I c-cant' you moan. 'ma you've been ignoring me for months and now you want me to stop? you take what I give you okay?' you can only nod in response as he pulls up into the driveway of his mansion. 'that's my good girl.'
Ex-Bf Eren who happily wakes up in the morning with you cuddling into his side in only one of his hoodies. He moves you so your onto of him and traces shapes into your back listening to your breathes as you sleep.
Ex-Bf Eren who's making breakfast when you walk in rubbing your tired eyes. He rushes over kissing all over your face as you giggle in his arms. 'you still love me baby?' he questions. You know his possessive nature can take over but how could you ever move on from him? His green eyes filled with love as you place his hair in a bun before replying 'always'.
*I hope this was okay :) I made a part 2 here!!
masterlist
#eren x y/n#eren#eren smut#eren x reader#shingeki no kyoujin eren#eren yaeger fluff#eren yeager#eren jeager smut#eren jeager x reader#eren yeager fanfiction#eren jeager#eren jeager x y/n#aot#aot eren#aot headcanons#attack on titan#kentosbabes#come home the kids miss you#eren fanfiction#i love him#eren drabble#eren headcanons
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Stable Girl!Joel and Sunshine
Joel trying to take care of her pregnancy cravings and needs. Massages, carrying her to see how the horses are doing, I googled how to make oatmilk ice cream and it could be doable, just need like butter or cashews to make it creamy ♥️♥️ I like the idea of Joel being taught how to do it by hand♥️ just for her!
Ah Strawberry ice cream?!
Love Language
pairing: The Stable Girl-Verse!joel miller x f!reader (Sunshine)
rating: F (talks of pregnancy/symptoms, joel is perfect)
a/n: AHHHHHHHHHH this SENT me anon 😭 the strawberrrriesssssss 😭
the stable girl masterlist | joel masterlist
“Again?” Joel’s voice sounded from behind you as you sat at the dining table in the middle of the night, scarfing down the chocolate cake Ellie baked as a “congratulations” for your newly announced pregnancy. You froze as he flicked the light on to get a better picture of the scene he was walking in on—you in your nightgown, your belly as round as a watermelon, chocolate frosting on your mouth.
“I had a craving,” you meekly justified your current state, bringing an amused grin to his face as he walked over, sleep tousling his hair and softening his eyes. Pressing his lips to your forehead, he pulled up a seat beside you and plucked your fork from your hand and shoveled a piece of cake into his mouth. “Who said I wanted to share, huh?”
“My apologies,” he smiled as he lifted a piece to your lips, his lazy grin growing wider as he watched your lips wrap around the fork, cleaning it off. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip to collect the chocolate frosting that rested there before sucking it off with a satisfied hum. “I love seein’ you like this.”
“Yeah?” You laughed and rolled your eyes at the compliment. “I’m sure I look like an absolute goddess right now.”
“You do to me,” he crooned, his hand reaching down to rub over your stomach through the cotton of your gown. “Carryin’ my baby. You couldn’t look more beautiful to me than right now.”
“You’re awfully sweet for being woken up in the middle of the night,” you cooed back with a smile, pinching his chin.
“One more bite and then you’re comin’ back upstairs with me,” he ordered, reaching for the fork to feed you a satisfying final bite before doing the same for himself.
Obeying his command, you let him take you back up to bed for the night, your sugary craving now satisfied and a new, sweeter craving dawned—a craving for Joel’s arms wrapped around you, lulling you to sleep.
“How’s baby Miller doin’?” Joel mumbled against your shoulder as he kept his lips pressed there, holding you from behind and rubbing your stomach.
“Starting to kick a lot,” you chuckled through your sleepiness. “And they apparently have quite the sweet tooth. I haven’t stopped craving sugar since the third trimester started.”
“Oh, I know,” he chuckled and hugged you closer. “Can’t wait to have her here with us.”
“Me neither.”
Joel stood in the kitchen, a piece of paper in front of him on the counter with a messily scribbled recipe he’d jotted down courtesy of Maria. With the cake long gone by now, you’d gone days without something sweet to fulfill your cravings. Though you didn’t make a fuss over it, Joel took it upon himself to remedy the situation with an attempt at homemade ice cream—strawberry, thanks to the community garden’s latest impressive harvest.
“Oof,” you came waddling inside the house from the backyard, your hands still wearing your gardening gloves as they supported your lower back. “I think I’m getting too pregnant to take care of my flowers,” you pouted as you found yourself a seat at the dining table to watch Joel as he shuffled around the kitchen. After a beat of no response, you huffed out, “Hello? Am I a ghost?”
“Huh?” He turned around with a frantic, flustered expression and seemed to just now realize you’d come inside. “Sorry. I’m just…why are recipes so damn hard to follow. What’s the damn difference between a teaspoon and a tablespoon?”
“Well, one’s bigger,” you chuckled and found the strength and energy to stand up and waddle over to the sink, your gloves coming off so that you could wash up. Peering over his shoulder, you nosily studied what he was working on before catching a glimpse at the recipe sheet. Though his handwriting wasn’t the cleanest, you could clearly make out “Strawberry Ice Cream” as the title. “Are you making ice cream?”
Joel whipped his head over at the sound of your bright voice, your smile wide with delight.
“Yeah,” he sighed, disappointed that his surprise had been ruined. “Was tryin’ to keep it a surprise until after supper but—“
You tugged him into a hug so tight he worried for a moment that you’d crush him.
“Thank you,” you mumbled against his neck as your face buried there. Joel chuckled and peeled himself from you enough to look you in the eye, his smile soft as he studied the appreciation written all over your face.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he laughed, leaning in to peck your lips. “Might fuck it up.”
“I have full faith in you,” you assured with your thumb and index pinching his chin. “Especially when I call Ellie in here to help you because I need that ice cream, my love. More than I need anything.”
“Oh, anything, huh?” He crossed his arms over his chest and turned playfully jealous in an instant. You laughed and stroked over his beard until his pour turned into a smile.
“Fine, almost more than anything.”
“Thank you,” he smiled into the kiss he planted upon your lips before tapping your ass lightly. “Now what were you sayin’ when you walked in?”
“Oh, I was just saying I don’t think I can look after my flowers anymore. My back is so sore these days—“
“Is it sore now?” He slid his hand up to rest on your lower back, his warm palm soothing over the aching muscle. When you let out a sigh of relief and rested your head on his chest, Joel felt a frenzy of affection swarm in his belly. “Baby,” he cooed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Let me take you upstairs and fix you a bath.”
“No,” you objected, lifting your head off his chest. “I really need to fix up the nursery. Baby girl is gonna be here in six weeks.”
“I’ll get someone else to do it—“
“No, you already got someone else to cover my shifts at the stable, and the garden, and now you’re trying to take away my nesting?” you playfully scolded him, a smirk on your face.
“I just hate seein’ you work too hard. You’re already workin’ a miracle by bringin’ my baby into the world,” he frowned a bit, something he’d only ever let you see. “I’ll leave you to your nestin’ but not until you sit in a hot bath. Your back’ll thank me later.”
“Fine, it’s a compromise,” you grinned and pulled him down for another short but satisfying peck. “Okay, I’ll go upstairs for my bath while you and Ellie finish the ice cream.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Later on that night after having spent at least an hour in the bathtub and twice as long fussing over the nursery, Joel forced you to relax at the dinner table, bringing you a plate of the most tender roast you’d ever seen.
“Oh my god,” you beamed as you looked from the plate to his eyes. “You did this?”
“I’ve been workin’ on my cookin’,” he shrugged bashfully. “It ain’t exactly fine dinin’, but I thought you deserved a fancier dinner than what I normally throw together.”
“You—“ You grabbed his chin and turned his face towards you, your smile still bright and beaming. “You are the love of my life, Joel Miller.”
Joel looked touched, his smile soft and sweet, just like him—or at least the side of him that you knew.
“And you are my life. Everything I do, everything I got—“ He placed his hand on your thigh and squeezed. “Everything. It’s yours.”
“Don’t make me cry on my food,” you chuckled and wiped the tears that filled in your waterline. “It looks too good to ruin.”
Joel laughed. “You started it.”
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fluff#joel miller#the stable girl#joel miller reader insert#joel miller x y/n#joel miller fluff#joel miller x you#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#tlou fanfiction
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Dye it baby
─ Yandere!bonten x motherly!reader (Platonic)
─ Summary: a special day with your boys, a day of memories and torture
─ Warnings: obsession, metion of bullying, toxic behavior, blood, mention of torture, yandere stuff
Part one / Part two / Part three / Part five
How the first two parts have 1000 likes ??? thank you very much!! 🫶🏻
Lil edit: sorry @boycigs it's been so long i forgot i had to tag you 😭
You never knew how to measure quantities when cooking, because you didn't want to go short, you always ended up adding more ingredients than you should, which led you to make too much food, in this case, little strawberry cupcakes along with some other fruits.
You had time to do it on one of those rare days where you weren't being stifled by the presence of any Bonten executive, having you as their secretary made it easier for them to be accessible to you, but unfortunately they couldn't stop you from interacting with other people, more than anything because they also needed men to do their dirty work, men you seemed to talk to from time to time, which they didn't like.
For you, it was just small interactions, greetings, small talks with the guys who were hanging around, who came from missions or bodyguards who watched every corner in the barracks, nothing really important, you were just being nice like you would to anyone else, although most of them would only nod at your presence or words, they had already been threatened and knew the consequences.
But that didn't stop some clueless from enjoying your presence more than they would like, not to mention the fact that you want to distribute the leftover cupcakes among those men, they'd rather throw away your homemade food before those creeps could taste it, but they couldn't stop you, at least not most of the time.
You wanted to think that the disappearance of some people with whom you spoke or shared that leftover food was not your fault, after all, working with this type of criminal exposed you to many dangers, but you really did not know how far your boys could go for simply smiling at another person.
You put those thoughts aside, clutching the box full of cupcakes tightly, you reached the elevator in the main building, dialing the highest number, you waited patiently, humming the light music on hold, on your way out you simply walked a few more steps and knocked on the door already well known. It opened with a creak, as soon as you entered, being received by an arm hooking onto you in a loose hug, you smiled when you saw Mikey, anxious to see what you had prepared this time, despite not being his favorites, everything you did to he, would be a culinary work.
"By the way, today is dyeing day."
"Hmm? It is?"
You muttered at Rindou's words, noticing now, the boys who already had part of their natural color at the root of their hair, you shrugged smiling at the younger of the Haitani, nodding at his request, earning pitying glances from Kakucho, who was the only one who decided not to alter his original hair.
You approached him, rubbing his shoulders in a comforting way, trying not to let his kicked puppy look affect you, you offered him a smile that was enough to warm his heart, looking for a second at the expressions of his companions to silently boast of being the only one that received all your attention.
"Don't worry Kaku, I'll make sure that my next day off is just for you, we can make that recipe you told me about the other day, or visit some place you want."
The completely bitter and serious expressions of the others turned into small grimaces that were meant to be smiles as you turned to them, letting Takeomi lead the group out while you give a last silent wave to Kakucho, who simply nodded at your action, as soon as you were out of sight a frown on his face.
Kaku really hated 'dyeing days' because he was the only one not included in the bonding time with everyone, but then again he could always take advantage of it, just like now, he always got an extra day with you, and best of all It's just that it was just you and him, so he had your full attention.
Although he had to leave that for later, now, returning with the boys and you, you went out of the building to the crowded streets of Tokyo, everyone staying on the sidelines except Kokonoi, who was the only one who went with you to buy the hair dye, since the group itself would draw a lot of attention and he was the one handling the money, the others reluctantly agreed as he took your hand to guide you to the nearest store.
"Don't you want to dye your hair too?"
"I think not for now, my hair doesn't look so bad right?"
"Of course not! It's perfectly fine."
You laughed at how Koko was quick to make sure your hair was perfectly fine, knowing how delicate people your age could be because of the dreaded gray hair. You both walked out of there after choosing the appropriate colors for everyone, smiling at the packages you were holding in your hand.
It reminded you of your youth, you went through that stage too, you learned how to apply the dye on your own because going to a hairdresser would be a lot of work and much more expensive, although you stopped applying so many dyes to your hair because it started to get drier. When the boys discovered this —snooping through your old photos from your high school days— they asked you to apply the dye.
While everyone got used to being treated by a ridiculously expensive professional hairdresser, nothing could compare to taking advantage of this to spend more time with you, not to mention enjoying the feeling of being pampered by you, giving them a little scalp massage when you applied the dye to them, it was something that even the most experienced or expert hairdresser could not achieve.
"Who should be first?"
You all ended up in your house, because you continued to maintain that house even though the boys told you it wasn't necessary, but you hadn't spent most of your life working to buy this property and now just abandon it so abruptly, no, you weren't going through that, plus it was always like a refuge of your own peace of mind, although in the majority there was always someone who interrupted you on your day off.
You observed that everyone had impatient eyes, watching as you internally debated who should be the first to go through your majestic hands and head caresses, taking one last look at everyone you made up your mind once and for all.
"I guess we can start with Ran, since I'm going to take longer with him, you go after Rin, the rest of you shouldn't take that long so you can choose the order, oh, without any shouting or throwing knives."
You warned before taking the brothers to the bathroom, aware that the last time you told them to choose the order in which you were going to dye them they ended up fighting to see who would be the first to receive your attention. You started working with Ran, massaging his head while applying the dye, it took you half an hour to finish them both as they had two different colors, which complicated the process, luckily the others only had one color to choose from.
You weren't surprised that the next one to enter the bathroom was Mikey, after all he was the boss, and if the brothers had been lucky enough to go before him, it was only because it was your decision and he respected it. You took your time with him, knowing that he enjoyed more than anyone the reassurance that your fingers gave him, running over his skin in a firm but gentle way, it was refreshing for him, the only place where he could let his guard down and relax to the point where he almost falls asleep
The next one was Takeomi, he was the fastest since he only had a small part of his hair, that didn't mean that he didn't feel satisfied by the simple fact of being with you alone. He was followed by an impatient Sanzu, who was always very restless despite being with you, as if he were the rebellious and hyperactive son of the group, then Mochizuki entered and finally Kokonoi.
You sighed once you kicked Koko out of the bathroom, leaving you to relieve yourself while cleaning the dye stains left on your hands, you wet your face to cool off, feeling tired after a long day.
"Guys… can you tell me what the hell are you doing with my school album again? I thought I had hidden it…"
You stared blankly at the group of men who decided to deliberately ignore your words, one of the few times they did, more focused on gossiping about your past as a student.
"Who is it? You have many photos with this person."
Sanzu pointed, you approached to check who was, a smile tugging at your lips upon seeing that person, the boys silently stared at your expression, feeling an internal anger against the stranger despite not knowing anything about that person.
"That was my first couple, although we didn't end up very well."
"Why?"
"Cheated on me with someone else." you immediately noticed how the tension increased in the room, rushing to continue talking "Oh, but we were both very inexperienced, it was the first relationship for both of us and we had many ups and downs."
"Why would you keep the photos of this person? Seems useless."
"Mikey… that's rude, I keep them because it's a memory of my life, although I only keep the good times."
They continued to look at more photos —some embarrassing— and judge the people you had the closest contact with in the past, Takeomi making a mental list of the few names you inadvertently let slip as you remembered between laughs and blushes of embarrassment your adolescent adventures
Although there was someone who annoyed them more than anyone, a girl, an old classmate who decided to mess with you for something quite common in pubescence, pimples and early physical changes, her harassment was only verbal, small teasing so that her group of friends would laugh, luckily nothing physical happened, mostly because one day you decided to stand up to it and set the record straight, since teachers don't do much, you decided that sometimes taking control of the situation wasn't a bad idea.
The girl was embarrassed years later by her attitude towards you and apologized when you met her as an adult, you simply forgave her because she was not and would not be anyone important in your life, there was no point in hating her when you could just forget her.
But the boys did not like this at all, they heard from your own mouth ─because they begged you to tell them the whole story─ that many nights you cried, self-conscious about your appearance, forcing you to do things that were dangerous to your health, both mental and physical, you didn't go to extremes, but without a doubt that year was a bad time that you prefer to bury in the depths of your mind.
Oh boy, Bonten was going to dig up the shit for you to clear your conscience, rather his own under the guise of 'doing it for you', what better way to get over someone than to just wipe them off the face of the Earth? It's a pleasant job for them anyway, especially if they're people who had hurt their mother in some way. You may have taken it as a joke, but the idea of hunting down your former bad classmates, or teachers, were not empty words, it was a promise.
"Hello, Kakucho? Didn't we have an important meeting today?"
"Ah, we can always do without one or two, so don't worry, isn't it better to spend the day with me than listen to us talk for hours about business?"
"I suppose you're right, hearing about your companies is more boring than working as a cashier."
You smiled tightening Kaku's grip on your hand, leading you through a pretty garden full of different flowers, completely oblivious to the reasons why you hadn't been allowed to attend today's meeting. You let go of his hand when he had to take a call, seizing the moment alone you bent down to see a lovely red rose, touching the soft petals of it, going down to the stem just feeling a little prick.
"Ow, it has very sharp spines."
You muttered, a drop of blood falling onto the green grass, staining it slightly red, you immediately felt someone pull your shoulder back, meeting you with a worried look that caused you to laugh.
"Let's get you a doctor."
"Kaku, it's just a cut, some water and a band-aid will suffice."
"Oxygenated water, we don't know if more people have touched that."
"Okay big baby…"
As you spent the afternoon nonchalantly by Kakucho's side, the rest of the boys personally took it upon themselves to give proper torture to that girl who once messed with your appearance, all taking turns slowly draining her blood, letting her life slowly and painfully escaped from her body.
"This teach you not to mess with mom, you stupid bitch."
Sanzu smiled sickly, taking the last turn to finish at once, the others watching in silence, their faces, hands and clothes stained with fresh blood, feelings of pure hatred manifested with blows, stabs, cuts… it was the price to pay for messing with someone she shouldn't, and she had to accept it. Sanzu grabbed the trusty pistol from him, without thinking twice, drowning out the agonized screams that did not stop ringing for four full clock hours, the last drops of blood spattering the walls.
BONUS
"Where have you been? Arriving like this full of blood what the hell?"
Everyone ─except Kaku─ shrank from your angry gaze, ducking their heads like children scolded for doing something wrong, they already knew what they were up against when they arrived at your house completely covered in blood.
"Sorry mom."
They all answered in sync, avoiding your gaze at all costs so as not to feel worse, but they were too eager to see you after having disposed of yet another piece of garbage in the world.
"No 'sorry mom' do you know how difficult it is to get blood stains out of clothes? You're lucky I have my laundry hacks."
#yandere platonic bonten x reader#bonten x reader#reader insert#fem reader#motherly reader#xreader#yandere platonic#platonic reader#tokyo revenger x reader#yandere tokyo revengers#haitani brothers#rindou#rin#ran haitani#mochi#mochizuki#kaku#kakucho#mikey#sanzu#takeomi#kokonoi#old reader
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eric draven taking care of a sick reader maybe? 🫣 covid's kicking my ass rn
Eric Taking Care of Sick! Reader
Eric Draven x Reader
A/N: I'm sorry to hear! I hope you feel better soon :)
You truly couldn't have asked for a better person to take care of you
Will give up a couple nights as the city's vigilante in order to watch over you
Will get you plenty of medicine, cough drops, tea, and even a heating pad to help with the body aches
He actually has his own homemade soup recipe for moments like this that you LOVE
Any time you go into a coughing fit, he'll quickly sit beside you and rub your back
When you have trouble falling asleep, Eric is there laying beside you, rubbing your scalp and singing a gentle tune in your ear
He'll stay up with you all night if he has to
Will cuddle you whenever you want, and will happily give you some space if you're feeling overheated
Will only use candles and nightlights to prevent worsening your headache
If you decide you want ice cream at 1 in the morning, he's going to get you ice cream
Just be prepared to mostly be bedridden
The moment you get up to try and do anything he finds too "extraneous," he's ushering you back into bed
"I can get it for you, don't worry"
Plenty of kisses and affection as well
He can't really get sick
But even if he could, he would not care in the slightest
Making sure you're happy and comfortable is his number one priority
Anything else comes second in his eyes
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Can I... can I ask for some househusband Leon hcs?
alright. okay. we're gonna work with a few assumptions for these headcanons.
this all comes from the hypothetical of leon being fully retired from his line of work. he still has the same backstory, skillset, traumas, everything, it's just...now he's your loyal house husband!
cooking? this all depends on where he's at in life. mid-30s and onward? he's a chef. i don't believe he'd be terribly gourmet about it. you aren't coming home to a roasted duck served with a reduced wine glaze and a perfectly made risotto...but god. he can make some damn fine spaghetti. he'd likely shoot for simple dishes, with perhaps an added flair or two. homemade burgers. lots of steak dinners. he'd prefer anything that can be prepared with minimal mess. recipes that are made with one pot or one pan...a big hit for him. he is not a pretentious eater, and that would reflect in his cooking.
now, if we're talking early to late-20s leon? erm. well. let's just say he's learning. his transition from zombie apocalypse policeman to military meat shield didn't do much for his cooking skills. and a diet of MREs and scrounged up viper parts did even less. if post-re4 leon is your house husband you're gonna be eating a lot of questionable meals. he's not completely oblivious. he won't try and feed you absolute slop, but his abilities don't much exceed kraft mac and scrambled eggs. still! he's a domestic man now. plenty of free time to try out all sorts of new things in the kitchen! be on standby with a fire extinguisher when he decides 3am is a great time to make fried chicken from scratch!
leon's independent food preferences likely revolve around utility. protein. nutrition. careful rations. compact energy a growing boy needs to kill bioweapons. he doesn't strike me as having a particularly strong sweet tooth, but he also won't say no to a bit of dessert! but he's adaptable, of course. one must be in his line of work. your tastes and favored dishes will influence his palate a lot. he'll naturally associate flavors with you and will, over time, come to adopt a lot of your dietary choices.
cleaning? leon will do his best. you can count on him to not accidentally mix mustard gas in your bathroom, but his knack for cleanliness would be...odd. i choose to believe leon has a strict standard for bodily hygiene. his extended exposure to all manner of glop and viscera means he strives to smell nice and stay on top of dirt the best he can when he is able to...on his body. a house is different. he's never had to see it as a home, merely an empty room where he sleeps and eats. so maintaining it as a tidy space might not come naturally, and it's not as if he had a proper upbringing to teach him proper housekeeping techniques (cough, cough, he's an orphan).
man's a fast learner though. expect a lot of trial and error. him accidentally using glass cleaner on the stove. or not understanding the exact purpose of fabric softener. why do we need make our bed if we're just gonna sleep in it and mess it up again? he likely has a lot of bad habits from living on his own, but gentle guidance and persistent advice will go a long way.
of course, leon needs his private time. space for him to isolate and be alone...but, you're at work all day. the loneliness is easily accessible, and now that he has all the time and freedom to be with you...it's grating. his favorite sound is the noise your key makes when it unlocks the front door. he's careful, not incredibly overbearing, but you don't make it more than a few steps into your home before his head is poking around the corner. "how was your day? you look tired. here, let me take your coat off-" leon is a listener. he doesn't talk about himself much, if at all, so he'd prefer to just hear you ramble on about whatever you need to or want to. neck rubs. gentle squeezes on your arm. light kisses on your brow. he doesn't smother. he doesn't drown you in the touch he's so starved of. but you can tell, he misses you a lot.
the real issues will probably stem from the quiet. the absolute lack of danger. take a person out of their traumatic environment and things start crumbling real fast before they can start to heal. he's hyper-aware. paranoid. has all this pent up energy and an instinct to fight. and he has to redirect it all somewhere, right? it'd come out in bizarre ways. diy projects. you come home from work and he built you a fucking chair. you don't even need a chair, but now you have one. lots of yard work. he renovated your patio and set up a birdhouse (also handmade). you didn't really want him to rearrange your living room but he did it anyways.
and it's hard for him to relax. for him to feel truly safe. he'd insist on installing locks on all the doors. bulletproof windows. guns hidden and stashed in corners of the house, just in case. any tech that could impede on his privacy (ie, amazon echos, doorbell cameras, etc) are out of the question. he'd run you through drills and hypothetical scenarios. make sure you know what to do in any situation. he's vigilant, and honestly, you've never felt safer, but it wears him down and you aren't sure if it's truly good for him.
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𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒐𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅 | 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒆𝒍 𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒐
☁︎ daniel ricciardo x female reader
☁︎ everyone loves a trip to the apple orchard…especially your boyfriend..even if he tries to tell you otherwise
☁︎ fluff, some teasing and of course just more fall goodness<3
☁︎ it’s my fourth fall celebration fic! it’s getting colder here which I love especially in the fall, i hope everyone is enjoying october! as always feedback is always appreciated!
“Danny stop pouting you know you love this!”
Sending a glance back to the australian behind you who had a slight pout on his face as he walked with you through the rows of apple trees.
“I’m not pouting”
“Yes you are”
Laughing at the scoff he gave you, you stopped, the air was getting cooler so you had stolen one of your boyfriend’s sweaters earlier that morning. You looked at two apples that rested in the higher branches of the trees
“Baby….”
“No”
“Please…?”
“No.”
Setting the wagon by the tree you walked over wrapping your arms around Daniel’s torso, a soft smile on your face
“If I give you a kiss will you help me?” you watched as the pout on his face started to turn into a smile
“Alright fine”
Your hands came up and took his face gently as you leaned in and placed a kiss on his lips, pulling away shortly after
“Better?”
“Slightly”
You couldn’t help but laugh at how grumpy Daniel was attempting to be. The two of you made it a tradition to go to the apple orchard near your home every fall, picking the best apples so you could make apple pies, homemade apple sauce and any other recipes you could think of. You loved baking and loves fresh apples so how could Daniel ever say no to taking a few hours to follow you around the orchard.
“I just need these two and then we can go I promise…”
Daniel sighed before pressing a kiss to your head
“Pick as many as you want baby, i’m just giving you a hard time”
He carefully lifted you up just enough to grab the two honey crisps that were calling your name, helping you to the ground once you’d grabbed them
“I knew you loved coming here with me”
“Love is a stretch”
Looking back at him he had a teasing smile on his face which caused you to hit his bicep
“Well you better love it because you get so many treats out of these apples, which by the way i’ve been working hard picking”
“I’m just here to look good you know that”
“Ah yes my trophy boyfriend”
Daniel winked
“Exactly”
Shaking your head at him he took your hand as you both continued up the row of apple trees, getting back towards the front where you could weigh your wagon and pay for everything. Daniel grabbed a few sneaky granny apples from the trees further up popping them into the wagon which only made you smile as you leaned into him
“I saw that…you love the apple orchard”
“You saw nothing, I just happened to notice granny smith apples babe”
It was like you were on a mission to get him to admit he enjoyed coming here, you just needed to keep poking a little bit until you heard him admit how he truly felt about this fall activity, because you knew he really did enjoy it. Once you’d paid for your apples and loaded them into the car, you closed the trunk, pausing to look at him.
Now to put your plan into action.
Daniel went to open the door to get into the car when he saw you standing by the trunk, a frown on your face as you kept your eyes down
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
You shook your head shrugging
“It’s nothing, sorry I’m ready to go now”
“No, don’t do that…tell me what’s wrong?”
He was quick to come over and pull you in for a hug, his hand rubbing his back gently, you felt a little guilty for making him think you were really upset, but you were dedicated to the plan
“We don’t have to come here anymore if you really don’t like it, I don’t want you to feel forced”
“Baby, I don’t feel forced…I just like to give you a hard time, I love coming here with you, seeing you so happy every time we come here, really I do love it..”
“Promise?”
Pulling back to look at him, you had a small smile on your face as he nodded, leaning down to kiss you
“I promise”
It wasn’t until you smirked that Daniel realized he’d gotten played
“I KNEW IT! I knew you loved coming here as much as I do!!”
“You little-”
He couldn’t finish because you were laughing, a hand over your chest as you held onto the car, bent over trying to catch your breath, only stopping when Daniel gave you as look as if to see if you were done.
“I’m sorry my love I just-I had to, I had to get you to admit it”
“Yeah, yeah are you happy now?”
“Very, thank you”
Leaning up to kiss him once more he finally broke out into a smile shaking his head at your antics
“Now come on orchard boy, we’ve got deserts to make”
“I think you meant you have deserts to make”
Taking his hand into your lap as you sat in the passenger seat you smiled
“You say that now but we know you’ll end up joining me”
“I’ll admit no such thing” he says sending you a smile
“Oh we’ll see about that Ricciardo.”
If you could get Daniel to admit to loving the apple orchard that easily, then it was only a matter of time until you got him to admit his love for baking too.
#rueswrites#ruesanswers#ruesanons<3#ruesasks#daniel ricciardo x you#daniel ricciardo#daniel ricciardo fanfic#daniel riccardo x reader#daniel ricciardo x fem!reader#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo x wife reader#daniel ricciardo x female reader#daniel ricciardo fluff#daniel ricciardo x girlfriend reader#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 fic#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 masterlist#formula 1 fanfiction
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how I see them cooking
church: the worst fucking cook out of all of them. just absolute horrible blames everything on caboose puts things to 10000 degrees and is like ☹️why did it burn ☹️wtf. has never made an edible thing in his life.
tucker: pretty good I mean he’s not making anything gourmet but any time blue team has to cook real food he does it and has to ban church and caboose cause they fuck it up so bad. might have some questionable tastes tho so his personal food is a little fucked
caboose: surprisingly not that bad but makes a Mess. it’ll taste good but still have an eggshell in it and the whole room is covered in ingredients
tex: pretty normal. she doesn’t seem like a big cooking fan though she might just eat an onion for the hell of it
sarge: good. but put him on the grill NOW. he needs to grill Now. he probably has a homemade rub that tastes bomb. he probably puts it on everything though and the rest of the team is shouting at him for putting pepper on his ice cream or something
simmons: bare minimum. he can make instant food and basic meals but he wings it or looks up a recipe. I can imagine he chops vegetables pretty fast
grif: well versed in the art of comfort food. he doesn’t really like cooking bc it takes a long ass time but he’s a good ‘throw shit in a pot’ kind of guy. shit is probably fire. I see him doing it when stressed maybe.
donut: all talk. great baker great mixologist never get him near a stovetop because he is starting a grease fire. even when he does cook a good dish it only looks really nice and tastes mid
lopez: honestly I’m not sure. im thinking a lot of simple meals with not a lot of spices cause he can’t. taste. but he sees them add like salt after and he’s like Oh Ok So you don’t like it. and spices it the fuck up. honestly might be the best cook of them because of versatility. he just downloads a shit ton of recipes once and never again
doc: everyone gets this but the Worst fucking healthy options Ever. to an absurd level
kai: she keeps fucking making infused foods and leaving them out. simmons had a weed brownie it was an experience. she’d make those ‘battery acid’ tiktok drinks go into a sugar high and pass out
locus: every time they have a cookout he brings a huge pot of mashed potatoes and gravy. no one knows where he gets it or when he has the time to make it. no one asked him to bring food
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Covet: Chapter 10 (Part 2 of 2)
Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader
Covet Summary:
Life was good. No, life was great.
Was.
Until.
Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.
You welcomed him into your life—your home.
Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in.
Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want.
At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.
Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; depression; feelings of stress and anxiety; feelings of sadness; abandonment issues; allusions to a dark, forgotten childhood; arguing; heart issues addressed (POTs); use of heart monitors; revisited, vivid memories of sex; jealousy; body changes as a result of pregnancy; suuuuper sore boobs; negative self-talk (stretch marks specifically); talk of baby + pregnancy; pregnancy hormones...things get heatedddd; reader and jake are both stubborn + turned on, but can't be together and it's TOUGH; cheating; heavy petting; rubbing of bodies against each other (see: dry humping); hands on boobs oopsies (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)
Chapter Word Count: 16.7k+
a/n: hi babes… <3 this is my personal favorite part out of the two… so, let me know how you feel… ;) love u all. busy day! i'm so sorry it's late. plz know i love you all sm <3
s/o to @joshym who is my favorite and the most wonderful encourager and sister in the entire universe. i love you more than i can say. you make life sunny and everything better <3
also, @alwaysonthemend, i love you so incredibly much and i’m so grateful for you and your unwavering support and texts that never fail to make my day <3
Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤 (fr, i listen to it nonstop when i write this.... all of the songs are pertinent to the story and aid in telling it - either already or eventually.)
Covet Masterlist
-🌼🌼🌼-
“The covetous man pines in plenty, like Tantalus up to the chin in water, and yet thirsty.”
-Thomas Adams
-🌼🌼🌼-
November 25, 2022
Friendsgiving. A standing, solid tradition since the first Thanksgiving you’d spent as Josh’s friend. It had always been you, Elsie, Josh, Sam, and Daniel.
But this year, you’d be entertaining new people. One you were incredibly grateful for. Jake. And one you weren’t even slightly sure about.
Maya.
She was the last person you wanted to celebrate a holiday all about Thankfulness with. But, you had to. Stupid ass shit that you couldn’t control, so you had to just pretend to be fine with it.
To your benefit, you had a distraction – a fantastic, welcome one in Elsie. Elsie and a morning of grocery shopping.
For Friendsgiving, in a group chat between you two and the rest of the boys, Elsie had insisted that you two be in charge of pies. So, you two were currently wandering the aisles of Walmart with Pinterest up, recipes open to several flavors of pies that Elsie had decided the two of you should make.
And the way to make homemade crust since she refused to use store bought.
“It will be a fun thing to try,” she’d sworn, aggressively pinning a couple to your shared board.
You were the one in charge of grabbing things off the shelves, while she pushed the cart and bossed at you what to grab for each recipe. The makings for apple pie and pumpkin pie already rumbled around in the cart. So, now you were on to the final pies and their ingredients. The few cans of cherry pie filling had just landed in the cart when Elsie decided to confront you about Jake.
“What’s going on between you and Lover Boy?” She asked, trying to sound absentminded in her question, but you knew she was not thinking of it randomly. She’d most definitely waited for a moment to hit you with the question when you were forced to respond.
And, you were. You were currently completely stranded at a Walmart with only her and one car to get you back to the apartment. There was no escaping the question. So, you decided to do what you could and only answer halfway.
“Well, he knows,” you started, grabbing a bag of sugar off the shelf, avoiding her eyes. “And things are going good.”
“What a vague response,” she hummed. “Why don’t you grab a couple cans of blueberry filling and hit me with full honesty.”
Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the can and turned to face her. A blush painted your cheeks that you couldn’t avoid. “I am being honest. He knows and things are good.”
“Yeah, that answer works for a random Joe, but not your sister. I’m not here for the fucking cliff notes.”
“I don’t care what you’re ‘here for’, Elsie,” you grumbled, turning to walk ahead of her toward the flour. “And why didn’t you ask me this yesterday when we had the entire day at Grandma and Grandpa’s?”
“It didn’t really feel like the right time to ask,” she defended, pointing to a particular bag of flour, which you grabbed and put in the cart. “I also didn’t want to stop talking about the ridiculous fangirl experience because that shit was hilarious,” she paused, gasping. “Oh! Speaking of fangirls and the other guys. . . When are you planning on telling Josh? I'm dying to start planning a baby shower and I want him to help me.”
“He didn’t tell you that I told him before my first–?”
“You told him?!” She asked, astonished. The cart squeaked to a halt behind you.
Turning around with a laugh ready at your lips, you gawked at her. “What is wrong with you, Dramatic Ass?”
“Um,” she sharply started, hand on a hip. “My sister and my boyfriend are keeping me in the dark, that’s what’s wrong.”
“Josh is busy and I’m busy,” you responded slowly. “We’re not 'keeping you in the dark'. Also, he just found out a few weeks ago. It’s not like he’s known for–.”
“A few weeks?!”
You swiveled fully around to face her completely. “Els. Josh has never been one to talk about other people and their lives to shoot the breeze. You know this. He wasn’t going to bring it up if it didn’t concern him.”
“Well, it does. It concerns both of us. Aunt and uncle? Hello?”
“It’s also just a giant ass thing that I’m sure he’s still processing,” you argued. “Give him a fucking break.”
“I’m bringing this up to him,” she stubbornly stated, huffing and everything. “I’m going to make him own up to not telling me he knew.”
“You knew and didn’t tell him,” you reminded her.
“That’s different; you didn’t want me to tell him.”
“And what if he thought I didn’t want you guys talking about it at all? He’s very sensitive to stuff of that nature.”
“I don’t know. I’m still asking him,” she firmly stated, continuing to push the cart forward, effectively ending the conversation with her tone.
And, much to your joy, dropping the other part of the conversation as she went on a sassy rant about something Josh had done recently that pissed her off.
It lasted all the way home and you were damn happy. . .
Although, you did have to work a little magic to get her to stop being such an over-thinker and asshole when it came to Josh. You had to give a plentiful amount of examples as to how he was all of these amazing things wrapped in one and not the person her mind was trying to convince her that he was.
She had trauma and abandonment issues, too. . . she just didn't always show them like you.
But. . . it made you pause. Made you think of yourself and Jake. . . . your mind went to the clouds as you thought of your feelings towards him. You were still like this as you helped her carry in groceries, and only snapped out of it when she started bossing you again. Except this time, she was annoyingly giving you jobs around the kitchen to prepare the blessed pies.
-🌼🌼🌼-
Jake had been the main chef for Friendsgiving.
All day, the apartment smelled heavenly thanks to his wondrous cooking. He'd started way early in the morning, and had awoken you with the incredible smells. . . but you had forced yourself to lay in bed rather than going about your morning routine. Truthfully, you really hadn't had to force yourself too much as you heard Maya's voice make unwelcome waves around the apartment through your door. You weren't in the mood for any of it this morning considering last night. Last night, when you'd seen him and Maya. . . . . Yeah, you'd still been in the process of blocking that the fuck out.
So, you'd only caught a little glimpse of him buzzing around the kitchen before Elsie and Josh had shown up. At which point, Elsie had been ready to hit Wally World.
But, now that you were back, you'd noticed that he'd taken charge of a few very important tasks. He'd roasted a giant turkey in the oven, made rolls and mashed potatoes from scratch, and a delicious gravy to accompany all of his dishes. Josh had been in charge of casseroles, and the other two hooligan men had been in charge of drinks and salad (a big bag of lettuce from Walmart with a bottle of Ranch and a plastic container of cherry tomatoes).
Maya had been in charge of nothing, claiming via Jake that she would be helping him. But all day long, she’d just sat around, looking way too stupidly pretty, and watched him cook. Lazy ass.
While you and Elsie slaved away at dessert, thankfully Jake was done with his preparations (save for the turkey that still cooked and created the most appetizing aroma). Meaning that Maya had followed him and wasn’t looming in the background as you made pie.
Which was good because you really did not need her around you any more than she had to be.
As you made pie after pie and sat them on top of the oven to go in once the turkey came out, you filled Elsie in on everything else that had taken place in your life as of late. Told her about the emergency room visit and everything you’d found out at the E.R.; how you’d come up with a solid morning routine to attempt a healthier pregnancy; and any intricate therapy detail that came to mind.
The boys had been sitting in the living room, playing music on a few guitars (Josh, filling up the apartment with old Elvis tunes). Then, opting to talk for the majority of the time.
So, you'd been able to gain precious time with your sister. She had encouraged you and supported you just like you knew she would. She’d also gotten onto you for not taking better care of yourself and not taking prenatal vitamins sooner.
“You fucking idiot,” she laughed, bumping your shoulder with hers as she passed you in the kitchen with the last pie. “No, but really. I’m sorry that you’d been so stressed and overwhelmed to the point of forgetting to do shit like that. I wish I’d lived closer to you for the beginning of it all.”
Your ears perked up at that. “Yeah. . . Me too,” you said slyly, considering options as they filtered through your head. “What would it take for you to move closer? I don’t want to be selfish, I just don’t want to do this without you.”
But, after the words came out of your mouth, you heard just how selfish they sounded. Though, thinking about her being with you for the baby had been something at the back of your mind that you’d been contemplating for weeks. It didn’t mean you needed to drop that fucking bomb on her though. . . The baby wasn’t her thoughtless decision that she needed to change her life for. . . It wasn’t fair to her.
“I’m sorry, Els,” you slapped a hand to your forehead, shutting your eyes to avoid any further self-induced embarrassment. “I didn’t even think about that before it slipped out. You don’t have to change any—.”
“Well,” she started, coming close to you and removing your hand from your head. As she held your hand in hers, she continued speaking. You opened your eyes to her. “That was actually my thing that I was waiting to tell you. . .,” she paused, trailing off. A slow smile lit up her features as her eyes brightened. “I put in a request for an office job attached to the company I work through. An office job for a branch of the company - based here in New York. . . Told them I didn’t want to travel any longer and that I’d appreciate something steadier as life changes. . .”
Your ears filled with excited static. “What?!” You gasped, eyes lifting with hope. “What did they say?!”
“Well, a few people talked to a few people, and the director of the program I’m in gave his permission and then recommendation to that part of the company,” she rushed out. “So, in a few months, I’ll finish out my contract for this job and be living here full time for the new one.”
There was almost no time between the moment she’d said the words and the moment you’d leapt from your spot in the kitchen to give her the tightest hug you could muster.
-🌼🌼🌼-
Jake’s POV
She looked fucking gorgeous today. Everyday, in fact. But for the past couple of days, all I could think about was how thankful I was to have her in my life. Tis the season. No matter what, I was very thankful for her. . . For so many reasons.
Though, the most prominent reason in my mind at the moment was how thankful I was to her for carrying our baby. So selfless and motherly and lovely. . .
So, I couldn’t help stealing repeated glances at her. I just hoped I wasn’t being too obvious. She was always beautiful, stunning—actual perfection walking—but the fact that our baby was in her belly just made matters much worse for me. She glowed in a way that she never had before. . . Drew my eye to her in a way that couldn’t be stopped.
It was wrong for me to look at her like this. I was in a serious relationship with someone else. . . I definitely shouldn’t have been eyeing her the way I was through the open layout, into the kitchen from my spot in the armchair. And especially not while I had my arm wrapped around my extremely hot girlfriend, and her nice fuckin' ass sitting halfway on my lap.
And, really. . . y/n had effectively broken—no, shattered—my heart all of those months ago in the kitchen. She shouldn't have drawn my eye to her the way she did after what she'd said. But, I really couldn't hold that against her any longer. It didn't matter as much as it once had. . . not anymore.
But, we weren’t meant to be. Honestly, I wasn't sure if I wanted us to be. . . It seemed too difficult for the two of us to manage. And, I had Maya. . . Mayamayamaya.
I would've been lying, though, if I said she wasn’t the most incredibly created human being. She was sculpted by the gods. . . Meticulously made to ruin me. When she really shouldn't. Fuck.
And now that she held my baby. . . The way her tummy rounded out more than usual, under her sweater—that shit left me completely speechless.
The way she held pregnancy was unparalleled to every other woman that had ever done it before. She was ethereal. And as great as Maya's ass was, there was truly no comparing it to the way y/n's ass looked in those leggings I’d seen her wear no less than a million times before. . . And just like every time before, I wanted to walk up behind her and feel the curve of it. Rip them the fuck down and bend her - dammit. I was so fuckin’ weak for her.
But anytime I felt Maya move against my arm, or lap, or smelled her perfume wave off of her with an action, I was reminded of how completely wrong it was for me to be checking y/n out. It was wrong how I couldn’t get her out of my head—all the time, she was there. Even in the most intimate moments with Maya, she kept creeping the fuck into my thoughts.
But, truly, it just happened. Couldn't control it.
And, even when I got up to check on the turkey once more, I couldn’t help my reaction when I passed her. When I'd accidentally brushed past her on her way out, the way my heart pounded in my chest as our bodies touched for a millisecond. She smelled so sweet—just like a damned sugar cookie. And the way she’d passed so delicately against me. Her top half had pressed against me for a stolen moment in time, her eyes catching mine as her precious bump skimmed my waist.
And her breasts. Felt those, too.
My chest tightened and my dick twitched—it was almost too much. The air was stolen from my lungs.
We were so close for those few seconds.
“Sorry,” she hushed, her eyes flicking up to look at me. A small smile was sitting on her lips, more out of embarrassment than anything. Her cheeks were the prettiest pink under my gaze.
But she wasn’t the one to be embarrassed. I was the only one who should have been embarrassed — for how I was instantly a teenage boy again, just because of a little brush from her body.
“Don’t be,” I mouthed, like we were sharing a secret. My lips lifted to reassure her and my eyes lit up with an emotion I couldn’t explain if I tried.
Her face softened at my expression, and then she was gone.
And once I’d gotten the turkey out of the oven, I was mostly back to normal. I’d forced myself to think about sad images of roadkill enough to ruin the mood I’d set in my head.
After breathing a few deep breaths, I called out that dinner was ready and all I could do was hope for the best for the rest of the day.
End of Jake’s POV
-🌼🌼🌼-
Thanksgiving carried on from when lunch started at two in the afternoon, to the evening, and saw your friend group (and Maya) sitting around the living room.
You were all bouncing back and forth with the Roku remote. Rotating around your semi-circle, every person took a turn choosing a YouTube video to cast.
It had turned into a sort of game of who could play a song that meant something to someone else in the room. Jake had just had the remote, right before Elsie, and had played a song for Josh. It had been some song from Seussical The Musical, to which Josh had sung along to every word. He’d even gone so far as to get up to do a little performance of the song.
“That’s exactly how it went,” Josh had chuckled heartily, the sound starting deep and lilting at the end. He dropped his arms from an obviously rehearsed dance routine, the song ending on a final high note. “I swear to God.”
“Oh, Joshua,” Sam’s eyes bugged as he looked at Jake with a laugh, who shared the moment of humor with him. “Trust me. We remember. Every single high school theatre production,” Sammy shook, as if reliving a traumatic memory. "All of it is seared into my poor, poor brain."
"Samuel, shut the fuck-," Josh started, before getting interrupted by his twin.
“Day in and day fucking out, Josh. That’s how often we heard those songs at home— for the months leading up to that damn musical,” Jake raised a thick brow. It made your tummy do somersaults - he was so handsome. “And I was lucky enough to hear it from backstage as crew. . . Every single rehearsal.”
“Yeah, you really fucking hated those songs,” Josh noted with a bubbling laugh, sitting back down next to Elsie, his arm falling around her shoulders. “Why would you make yourself suffer through that again?”
“Just playing the game,” Jake shrugged, rolling his eyes with a smile. He handed the remote over to Elsie, who sat on the couch, next to where he sat on the floor, in front of the couch. “But goddamn if I don’t ever hear it again, it will still be too soon.”
Sam agreed with a toast, raising his beer bottle as Jake lifted his. They nodded at each other from across the room. And you stared on, getting distracted by the woman who sat on the couch, criss-cross-applesauce, behind him, braiding his hair.
Fuck that bitch, you thought hotly— ridiculously.
Admittedly, it took too far too long to look away from her pop-up salon. But you eventually did, and watched the screen as Elsie started typing something into the search bar.
You knew better than to feel jealous of her. But, you couldn’t help eyeing her from your place, as you snuggled into the armchair with your favorite fluffy blanket covering you. Just wanted to let the chair swallow you, so you nestled deeper and closed your eyes to imagine it.
“This is one of y/n’s favorites,” Elsie said, the pre-video ad starting on the television. “The first time she watched this, her life changed. The perfect mix of her love for classic rock and soul music.”
Instantly, you knew exactly which song she was talking about. And when the video started, your heart expanded in your chest, making everything feel fuzzy and light. Everything felt okay.
Change the World. . . . the Unplugged version. Eric Clapton and Babyface. . . . so many memories.
“This is our childhood,” you said, voice thick with emotion. The amount of tears you cried on a weekly basis was nothing short of humiliating. The baby hormones were vicious in their attack.
“I can’t tell you how many times we heard this as kids,” Elsie affirmed, looking over at Josh.
“Grandpa is a strangely huge fan of Babyface,” you giggled, throat loosening a little as the laughter bubbled from your chest. “This Unplugged vinyl played on a loop for a period of time.”
“It was that year we bought it for him for Christmas,” Elsie added, agreeing. She was watching the screen with tears in her eyes, too. “But you ended up loving it so much,” she looked over to where you sat. “That the next Christmas you got your own vinyl of it. From yours truly. You're welcome." She winked, blowing a little kiss your way.
“I do take partial blame for the constant looping on the living room record player,” you smiled, winking at her.
She winked back. “Yeah, you and Grandpa had equal hand in his Unplugged record warping on this song.”
You grinned, sticking your tongue out at her as she did the same. When Eric Clapton started singing, you gave the screen your full attention. The sound of this song only brought back the happiest memories. Even before hearing Babyface’s cover, it was a family favorite. It was a song that made you feel whole.
It was the one song your Grandpa loved to sing to you. . . Before this version had ever come to your family’s attention. He'd sing it in those soft moments that felt like glowing rays of sun hitting your skin on a hazy summer evening.
But when your Grandpa had heard the Unplugged cover on the radio, the Earth had shifted for him. . . And even though it didn’t top your Grandpa singing it, the cover featuring Clapton held a special place in your heart with how often you’d heard it bouncing off the walls of the living room. It played so often that you associated it with some of your best days. . .
You'd still been innocent enough, still, to enjoy the world through a rose-tinted lens. And, far enough away from the trauma with your Mom that life had felt new. Ironically, the cover of the song had come around when your world was finally feeling like it had changed. It had been an intricately timed re-release of the lullaby your Grandfather had once poured over you as you’d drift to sleep on both restful and restless nights. The song felt safe – sort of like your Grandmother’s cooking felt for you.
“You know, it’s funny,” Josh’s voice cut through your drifting thoughts. You kept watching the two men on screen, but tuned in to your best friend’s dialogue. “Jake loved this version, too. When YouTube came around, he would watch this version back to back, trying to memorize the way Babyface and Eric complimented each other on their guitars. He always wanted–.”
“To play both parts and record them on top of each other," Jake finished, watching the screen intently. You’d let your eyes wander from the screen momentarily to see his expression after hearing Josh’s story. He still looked utterly invested; just like you imagined he had looked as a kid re-watching it over and over again on YouTube. “It’s not really an intricate piece. . . I just found it at a time when I wanted to try everything I could on guitar. I knew how to play better than most 14 year olds, yes, but I still didn’t know half as much as I do now,” he explained, never looking away from the musicians.
You saw movement at his waist, and when you looked down to observe, he seemed to be playing a guitar part in the air. And you knew if he picked up the instrument right now, he’d match one of the men in time. Whichever one he was currently studying - you couldn’t tell.
“I don’t know why I never recorded myself playing both parts. Synced them over each other,” Jake mused, still playing in the air. “I used Garage Band like it was an addictive fucking drug–.”
“You can say that again,” Sam inserted, acting annoyed but still grinning so wide all the same.
“But I just forgot about it, I guess,” the older, long-haired brother continued, as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “I’m getting the urge to do it again now – it’s coming back strong,” he chuckled, looking down at his fingers with a brow raised–just like he’d do if he was actually playing.
It was fucking hot to watch him play so intently with nothing there to support him. Only his mind, full of the memorized chords from years ago. And to a song that meant so much to you.
“I’m sure the guys at the studio would let you do it with their recording equipment,” Danny offered, also watching the famed musicians with intrigue, glancing over at Jake.
Jake sucked in a breath, dropping his air guitar before leaning back against Maya, closing his eyes and sighing with one particular scratch of her nails against his scalp as she tugged out the french braid to start another.
Gag. You could vomit at the sight of their mushy-gushy behavior.
Your hand floated to your stomach to remind yourself of one thing you had that she didn’t.
“Nah,” Jake sighed, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling. “I feel like it has to be done without the expensive stuff. It has to be recorded in a way that baby Jake would have recorded it. . . I just–,” He wrinkled a brow, releasing a grumble under his breath.
There was something he was concerned about. . .
And, as he sat back up to watch the men finish out the song, Maya made a little huffing noise, crossing her arms over her impressive chest. But, in all of her perfection, she covered the noise with a small smile and a shake of her head. Just seemed to be joking with her little bratty act.
Oh, how cute and funny.
She’d looked over at Sammy, who’d made a little sound at Jake’s words. You followed the line of sight.
“What’s the deal, brother?” Sammy questioned, leaning forward to emphasize his care for Jake.
“I just don’t have the time to do a little side project like that–can’t even think about prioritizing it,” he replied, combing a hand through his hair, untangling anything that resembled a braid. Maya did outwardly pout at that. She whined his name and said something about her hard work. You couldn’t help the tiny smirk that lifted your lips at the scene. You tried your best to hide it, and just focused on the screen again. “And even calling it a project sounds silly with everything else going on in life right now.”
Before you could feel too guilty for the situation under your palm that added to everything going on in his life, Josh spoke up with a giant gasp.
“Baby Jake!” The curly-headed twin exclaimed. You all looked in his direction, equally confused with knitted brows. “That’s just it; record it like you would have back then with the intention that it’s for your baby. Something fun to do. But. . . You’ll prioritize the time if it’s for the baby. If you look at it that way, it won’t seem silly at all," he wiped his palms, arm back over Elsie as he finished with jazz hands. "Ta-da!"
As the song concluded and the next ad started (an ad for baby diapers, of all things), Maya was urgently pushing Jake out of the way, claiming she needed to pee. And as she passed between your line of sight and Jake’s, you realized you were zoning out on him when your eyes met his, just as she rounded the couch.
He gave you a small smile, his eyes staying on yours, floating down to where your belly hid under your blanket, and then back to your face when he responded to Josh’s idea.
“Yeah, that sounds like a good plan, Josh,” he said, gaze never once leaving yours.
The fire that rose from the pit of your tummy, all the way to your cheeks was not a new feeling with Jake, but for some reason. . . this time, it felt unlike any time ever before.
-🌼🌼🌼-
Everyone had stayed, having decided to lounge on couches for the night to sleep. They were all in equally deep slumbers (save for Maya, most likely still completely awake and waiting for Jake in his bed).
You’d all stayed up until the wee hours of the morning–much later than you had in a long time. The only way you’d been able to make it, the tiny cat naps you’d dozed in and out of. As you’d done that, everyone else had continued on with their little YouTube game.
Now, here you were, completely exhausted, practically dragging yourself to bed, ready to sleep. Just barely managed to wash your face before Jake had hopped into the bathroom, right after you, to brush his teeth.
But before you could make it inside your room, he passed by behind you. You weren’t even looking. You’d just smelled his heavenly cologne, a favorite scent of yours (and the baby’s, apparently) flood the space around you. You knew he wasn’t actually drenched in the smell of sandalwood and vanilla, but your baby-powered-super-senses could’ve convinced you otherwise. He smelled delicious and you could easily drown in him.
Though, instead of focusing on that, you let yourself act on something that was threatening to leave your lips. No matter how hard you tried to stop it, your tired brain wouldn’t let the words halt.
“Please don’t stop pursuing your dream or any other thing just because of everything that’s happening with me and the baby,” you rushed out, peeking up through your lashes for a moment before locking eyes with your hand on the knob of your door. “I don’t want you to ever feel like this is taking up too much space in your life or causing any unnecessary stress. You can back out whenever you want if you feel like that’s what you need and I won’t be upset with you for—.”
“No,” Jake responded, soft and stern, moving to stand in front of you. You had no choice but to look up at him, he was standing so close to you. His eyes bore into yours. “I’m not going to back out. I couldn’t do that–wouldn’t ever do that. I want this. I promise. It’s everything else, I think, that’s stressful. The baby is something I get to look forward to,” he reassured, his voice wavering just enough to worry you.
But you didn’t let it get to you. Tiredness prevailed above any doubtful emotion you could’ve mustered. You could only sleepily nod your head at his words.
“The baby inspires me even more to make it all happen,” he rasped in a velvety tone, assuring you. After, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. Your sleepy eyes slowly followed the motion. You wished it was you. “Everything else is still exciting, too. . . But it’s a lot and it gets me thinking about how different everything is about to be. It’s scary. But– it’s. . . the baby makes it all seem brighter. Better. I’m not just doing it for me anymore. Not even for my brothers. It’s for my baby,” his full lips spread into a loose, close-mouthed grin. “Our baby.”
Your tummy flip-flopped and all you wanted to do at that moment was kiss him. You felt the slightest inkling that he wanted the same, with the way he’d brought his body in front of you, closer than he needed to. But. . . you blamed it all on tiredness. There was no way you could trust yourself to make actual, coherent assumptions. You were getting carried away, and even though you wondered of the possibility that he could want it, you cut off the idea.
Tired or not, you knew one thing. He didn’t want you. He had a girlfriend. A real relationship with a woman much more beautiful than you. So, before you could get trapped in his big, beautiful brown eyes any longer, you decided to bid him goodnight.
Though, just as you’d opened your door to go into your room, he stopped you. “Hey, real quick,” he cleared his throat. You looked up at him, confused at the sudden stop. “Maya–um,” he shook his head, brows furrowed as he messed with his bottom lip. “She told me that she wanted me to help however I possibly could. She wants me to be attentive and helpful in any way I can be.”
He was right there - a step away. His breath, fanning over your face. You could smell the mint of his toothpaste. “Obviously with limits,” his voice lowered a bit as his eyes peered down at you.
What was that supposed to mean? Surely he didn’t mean. . . But, you responded the only way you could think to.
“Obviously. . .,” you trailed off, raising a brow out of complete confusion for the conversation’s direction. “I wouldn’t want you to cross any sort of boundary. You’re in a relationship with her. Not me.”
“Yeah. She’s my girlfriend,” he replied, voice rasping on a hitched breath. His body felt as though it was wrapped around yours in an act of protection. He’d brought his hand up, above your heads, as his body curved in towards you. After a pause, he continued. “But I don’t want to make any boundaries with the baby ever. Not at all. I want to be present. From now until always.”
Suddenly, the moment was gone for you. There was no way he’d ever meant it as anything more. All he’d meant was you needed to remember there were boundaries. This was all about the baby. It was selfish to ever think any different.
You knew better than to believe any different than that. Your thoughts got out of hand so damn easily these days. Why did you let them wander so far when you fucking knew better?
You backed up, your back touching the doorframe behind you. He scrunched his brows, but you weren’t sure why he was acting confused. It was late. You were definitely imagining things. He was just tired, too. . . that was all.
“So. . .,” he cleared his throat. “Just let me know however I can help with the baby. Please.”
“Okay,” you whispered with a quiet nod of your head.
“Okay,” he muttered with a gentle, distant grin. He nodded his head as well. And right before he opened the door to his room, his words barely touched the air as he told you goodnight.
-🌼🌼🌼-
November 28, 2022
Covid. Gia had Covid.
Your heart broke for her having to deal with that absolutely terrible illness. And your nerves were climbing up the wall at not being able to see her. She wasn’t so bad that you couldn’t email her if you had questions or needed advice. But, you also knew better than to bother someone who was sick with something like Covid.
So, you were spending the time that you would have been gearing up to go to Gia’s office, on this chilly autumn day, pacing back and forth in your living room. Cuticles thin from chewing and perspiration accumulated at your hairline and under your arms, you weren’t sure what to do.
The idea of losing time on healing before the baby arrived was stressful to say the very least. You didn’t want to be any less of a mother than your baby deserved. He or she deserved a mentally stable mom. . . and in order to get there, you required several hours on Gia’s couch.
All that could wave through your one-track mind was how terrible you felt for being so stressed about your healing while Gia was so sick. She was the one who needed to get healthy sooner rather than later.
You tried to remember the words Gia had put at the tail end of the email she had sent. She’d put in a few words that reminded you how well she knew you.
Don’t stress too much about the session being cancelled. :) Things happen and we have plenty of time, y/n.
Those words, typed specifically to assure you. Except, you’d worked yourself up too much for it to work very well after you’d read the title line of her email. Just a few, simple words: Out Sick – Sorry!
If even Gia’s words weren’t helping to calm your nerves, you weren’t sure how you were going to make it through to the next appointment.
After an hour of feeling unsure about literally everything, you decided the only way you were going to make it was by doing some other form of self care. And the first thing that came to your mind was food. Food always sounded good these days (nausea taking a backseat thanks to your meds and second trimester), and it would help you feel better while also supporting the baby’s health in the womb.
But it took you no time to get sad because you didn’t know what kind of food you wanted. . .
You’d resolved to just not being able to win at life for the day when you heard the front door jingle on the other side with the sound of a key unlocking.
Jake was home. Fuck. He was home to take you to therapy and you hadn’t even thought to text him and tell him– shit. Instead of doing what he would have rather been doing, he’d made a useless trip home.
It didn’t take him long at all to notice you sulking next to the window, face-palming next to the it, where you’d been people watching minutes ago, from your vantage point a few stories up.
“What’s wrong?” He questioned, concerned, as he came right up beside you. “What’s going on?”
Whenever you looked up from having your eyes pressed into your hand, you refocused your eyes on his worried ones. “I don’t have counseling today,” you sullenly stated. And rather than going into any more details, you just apologized. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. There was no point in you coming home.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” he calmly reassured. Again, you found his line of sight. His eyes felt like the sweetest reassurance. “You look like you could use someone to talk to.”
“Don’t waste your time on me,” you waved him off, scrunching your brows in an effort to seem nonchalant. “Just go back to doing what you were doing.”
“Well, I don’t have any plans because I was planning on being with you all night,” he laughed just a bit, under his breath. He flicked at the tip of his nose with a pointer finger.
“All night?” Your stomach swirled at the thought, but you also felt incredible guilt at stealing that time from him. “God, I’m so sorry, Jake.”
“Please don’t be.” It was his turn to wave you off while shaking his head. He swept a hand through his hair. “I’m glad I was here– glad that I am here.”
You didn’t really know what to say. There wasn’t anything you two could do that wouldn’t get completely awkward after a while. Right? It was only four o’clock and he planned on spending the rest of the evening with you? What were you going to–?
“What do you want to do?” He asked, adjusting his jacket over his shoulders. “Wanna stay here? Order in? Go out and do something?”
Going out sounded like a date. . . and that felt wrong to do. But you also absolutely despised the idea of staying inside of the apartment to wallow for a second longer. . . .
And it didn’t take you very long to realize you were still wanting food, hunger starting to feel like empty weight in your rounded tummy.
“Food?”
“Food,” he agreed with a grin, winking at you before turning around, effectively making your brain turn to complete mush as you grabbed your own jacket and followed him out the door.
-🌼🌼🌼-
The night was one of the best you’d had in a while.
He’d taken you to get Panera. Weird, yes, but their tomato basil soup had been calling your name the second it’d come to mind, as you'd searched places to eat.
And after sitting across from each other and just talking about his budding career and your classes, at Panera Bread. . . he'd told you he wanted to take you somewhere special. And, just as the sun was setting, you’d pulled up to a Barnes & Noble on your side of Brooklyn.
“Tell me why you’re stressed,” he’d said, putting his car in park.
A used, four-door (hard top, thankfully) Jeep. An all-black, mid-thousands model. After riding around in it all evening, you’d noticed it rode really well. It was just slightly strange that he had a car. He hadn’t had one when you’d been. . .
You cleared your throat, back on the subject at hand. “I never said I was stressed,” you stated, feeling ready to combat the truth. For whatever stupid reason.
“You didn’t have to say it,” he breathed deeply through his nose, turning down the classic rock station he’d been playing. “I know you.”
Deciding it wasn’t worth a debate (because it was the truth–you had been very stressed earlier), you sighed; running a hand through your loose, natural waves, you responded. “Well, I’m just. . . this therapy is for me, yes, sure. But it really is mostly for the baby,” you explained. He sighed and you placed the hand you’d combed through your hair on your rounded bump, covered by your favorite oversized sweatshirt. “And having one session lost that I can’t be working on getting healed for the baby stressed me the fuck out. Still kind of is,” you admitted, glancing out of the small, rectangular windshield. “I just want to be completely better by the time the baby is here.”
“What are you most worried about?” He softly pondered, prompting you to talk through it.
“That I’ll be just like my mom and project my hurt onto my baby,” you said wetly, swallowing the thickness in your throat. “I have so much in me that I don’t understand and it scares me how much I don’t remember – can’t remember,” you blinked to allow the new tear to make its way down your cheek before quickly reaching to wipe it away. “And it scares the shit out of me. It makes me. . . this terrible person to other people. I need to understand all of me, so my baby gets the best parts of me.” Sniffling, you swiped at your cheeks to rid yourself of the few more tears that cascaded down your cheeks. “And I don’t even remember the last time I saw those best parts. . . . so if I can’t see,” you huffed, your eyes finally piercing his, which stayed on you, intently listening “H-how is my child going to see them?”
Jake hummed, rubbed his chin. He never took his deep-set, amber-brown irises from yours. “It’s funny,” he started, a little grin ghosting over his lips as he spoke, “I’m seeing those best parts of you right now. I see those 'best parts of you' quite often.”
Your heart pounded in your chest, and you unzipped and reached into your belt bag for your heart monitor phone, willing it to not go off. There were butterflies wreaking havoc in your tummy. Naturally, your hands found their way to your tummy. His eyes followed that particular movement.
“How do you–?” You sniffed, shaking your head, zipping your bag back after a moment. “How do you see those things? I haven’t seen them since before you came into my li–- for a long time. And never consistently. . .,” you rambled, eyebrows drawn together, thumbs rubbing circles over the tight bump. “I’ve always been a bit of a wild card with my emotions. And finding out more of what I'd done from Elsie. . . I'm just way too similar to my–.”
“Do you think she was as self aware as you are?”
“I don’t know,” you answered, honestly. You would go with no, but. . . “I don’t know her well enough to make that judgment.”
“Okay,” he nodded, sticking his bottom lip out. A grin found its way to his plush lips, looking so kissable in the cramped space of the car. You leaned further into the door so as to not tempt yourself of anything. He continued, “Well, I would say she probably wasn’t. Or else you wouldn’t be wracked with so much significant trauma. She wouldn’t have left you hanging with so much to deal with. . . she would have been there for you. Helped you because she would've wanted to help herself. Would've been self aware enough for that,” he emphasized. “Parents say stupid shit. They do stupid shit. They’re humans. What matters is how they ultimately react.”
“But I react so brashly, Jake,” you argued, needing to be heard. “What happens if I do that to our–?”
“You won’t. I know you won’t,” he consoled you, his eyes so earnest as he conveyed the words. “You struggle with saying stupid shit. I do, too. So does everyone. You’ll figure out how to handle situations better, but it won’t be as hard as you think,” he shook his head, taking the keys from the ignition. “Not for you. You are determined. And you’re not this monster you’ve made up in your head.”
“Well, –,” you started, interrupting him, only to be cut off.
“And your best parts are too many to name right now,” he surmised, winking at you once more. You rubbed wider, nervous circles on your tummy. “But one of my favorites is your determination to help others. The way you care for others. And if a mother has those qualities,” he pointed a finger at your tummy, and trailed the finger up to point at your face. “She will be one helluva fantastic mother. I’m glad our baby will have you.”
“Thank you,” you replied after the words had actually cracked the surface of your mental warfare. No voice appeared to combat what he’d said, so you let them sink, all the way down into your brain to truly consider for later. You didn’t fight them. . . which you viewed as progress. “Thank you so much. I–I needed to hear those things. And you were the perfect person to hear them from,” you blushed, crinkling your nose with the words. A smile settled on your lips, eyes drying. “Because I know you’re going to be the best daddy to this baby. I’ve known it for a long time. . . So, it means a lot that you think the same. Seriously.”
“Of course I think so,” he smiled, glancing once more at your tummy. “And the way you're always holding our baby. . . you love her so, so much. You’re already so intentional about loving her.”
“Her?” You asked aloud, wondering why he’d chosen that gender. Your hands held tighter to your tummy at the assumption. “Why girl?”
He hummed, looking out the windshield, past your head, with a wide grin. “It just feels right,” he concluded, before motioning at the windshield, nodding towards it. “Look.”
You did as he said, turning to see a mother and son (presumably) traipsing up to the store, just past the nearest cart corral. The little boy was skipping, and the mother was watching her like the entire world started and stopped with the child. The sky was bluer because he was around. You felt that.
“The way you’re watching them says enough, honey,” he concurred. There was that nickname again. . . Honey. Your heart skipped a beat at the term. “I see it all over you. You’re going to mess up. Parents do. My parents did a lot and I still think they’ve been the best parents.” When he gave a small, breathy laugh, you looked his way. He rubbed a finger over his bottom lip. “But what good parents do after they mess up is– they have humility and apologize. They show integrity to their child. You do that. Already. For me.”
Sitting across from him in the still air of the Jeep, you let your eyes bounce back and forth between his. His smell, warm, sweet, and woodsy, was enveloping every sense of your body, in the taut air of the vehicle. His breathing laced with yours, your heaving chest kept up with the rhythm of his. He was steadier than you. . . he seemed fine.
You felt anything but. Your emotions were going haywire at everything he’d just said. The man he was to you. . . he was too good to be true.
But, instead of letting yourself get sad that he wasn't yours, you looked at the store behind you and cleared your throat. It opened up your mind and the air in the car. He blinked a few times, tilting his head slightly, watching you.
“Wondering why we’re here?” He asked.
“Yeah.”
“Well, I thought– let’s get out,” he said, pausing the conversation to unload from the Jeep. You followed his lead, taking the tall step as gracefully as you could to get down and out. The slip almost happened–but didn’t. Thank god.
Joining him at the back of the car, you waited for him to lead the way and continue. You wrapped your jacket tighter around your body, over the sweatshirt. There was a bite in the air that hadn’t been there before. Jake tightened his jacket, too, tucking his hands in the pockets of it. “I brought us here because I knew you were stressed. I knew it probably had to do with the baby,” he started, looking down at you. You felt his stare, looking up to meet it. “So I thought maybe coming here to get some books to study and prepare would help you feel more at peace about whatever was on your mind,” he drew in a breath before blowing it out into the cold, dry air. “And now that I know it had to do with preparedness, this was kind of–.”
“Perfect,” you finished, nudging him with your shoulder.
He looked down for a second, his eyes read an unknown emotion before he kept on. “I know you probably have a lot of books already, but–.”
“There’s no such thing as too many,” you replied, leading the way through the automatic doors.
“Precisely,” he agreed, coming to a stop as soon as the two of you had entered. Raising a brow, he looked down at you before throwing a thumb over to the in-store coffee house. “Want something?”
“You don’t even have to ask,” you responded with a light smile, walking toward the smell of comforting coffee and cakes.
-🌼🌼🌼-
He’d footed the bill the whole night. . . including the surplus of books from Barnes & Noble. It had been a hefty bill, but he’d refused to let you pay. He had convinced you it was part of co-parenting – sharing purchases. And this was one of his first purchases to make for the baby.
“This was a good idea,” you mentioned at the end of the evening, juggling your one bag of books that you’d insisted Jake let you carry (the lightest one, after compromise) as you led the way up the stairs of your complex. “Focusing on other ways we can prepare for the baby, rather than worrying about what we can’t control.”
“I have a decent idea every now and then,” he chuckled, out of breath as he handled the bulk.
Once you made it to the door, you unlocked it for the two of you.
And, for a moment, it felt so domestic.
It felt like a dream you shouldn’t dream. Arriving home after a big shopping run, walking through the door together as you laughed at the heaviness of bags and discussed a few of the books you’d chosen.
And as you made your way through the door finally, it broke your heart to see the night go. He wasn’t necessarily acting ready to end it, but the impending ending made your stomach turn. You wanted this for longer.
He was going on and on about all of the things he’d researched as of late concerning babies and pregnancy and everything in between. You decided on grabbing a Canada Dry from the fridge, letting him sort the books on the counter into categories as he kept conversation easily.
Every now and then, you offered a small response to show you were listening, but otherwise, you let him talk. You loved listening to him talk about all of this.
It made your heart feel ten times bigger. Though, as you took a sip of your ginger ale, watching him sort the books, your heart began to sink instead.
You couldn’t help how much you adored his desire to learn about all things ‘baby’. He was already so good at his job as dad.
The way you’d felt all night–so peaceful with him. . . you knew it was good for you. He was literally your mental safe place (you hadn’t told him that though. Absolutely not). But. . . you knew it couldn’t go past the feeling of good friendship. Co-parenthood.
The unfortunate part, though, was that you really felt unable to stop the way you were feeling for him. It felt new and familiar all at once.
Though, you knew you couldn’t let yourself feel that way. You shouldn’t.
But with the way his eyes lit up when you looked up at him again, after staring at your feet in your whirlwind of contemplation, you knew you were doomed.
There was no stopping the way that you felt about him.
-🌼🌼🌼-
One morning at the very end of November, you woke up with a cold. A terrible one. The same cold that every other person in your classes was seeming to come down with. Theo had been gone with it all week, and you saw him more frequently than not to study. You’d decided on one or two days a week after class. There were also the few people who sat around you in class, who’d come down with it.
So, it was due time for you.
Normally, you would have tried to make it through the day. But, you’d done enough reading to learn that coming down with a serious infection like the flu or Covid could lead to a baby’s fetal development getting stunted. So, you played it safe and decided to stay home until you felt better.
You had called in to work that morning. And just after that, you’d emailed the professor you had that day to let him know. Everyone you had spoken to was understanding, luckily, which helped you to sleep very peacefully. You only hoped that the extra sleep wasn’t just helpful to you, but also–mostly–to the baby.
Sleeping off the sick seemed the best option. You hadn’t really had the mental energy that morning to look into safe medicine to take for colds during pregnancy. So, sleeping it was.
Your colds were always intense–all of your sicknesses were. When you got sick, it never failed to knock you on your ass. So instead of stressing over it all that morning, you’d chosen sleep as the easier route.
You had been hoping that you’d wake up from a long nap feeling refreshed and better. . .but. . . you were not so lucky.
When your eyes fluttered open for the second time that day to find what was left of the evening sun peeking through your curtains, you officially knew it was time to figure something out. Your eyes were burning–hurt to open. There was an ache settled firmly in every bone in your body–weren’t sure if you were cold or hot. . .
You were definitely sick. More than a cold. No two ways about it.
When you turned to your bedside table for a drink from your Stanley, you found your bedside table had a couple new additions since you’d fallen asleep. There was a brand new Stanley sitting next to your old one. One you’d eyed for a few minutes online a week or so ago, and then decided against due to the monstrously obnoxious size. . .
You’d talked to Jake about it after he’d noticed your pensive face looking at your phone screen for longer than necessary. . . And now, there it sat on your white, wooden night stand. A 64 ounce, rose quartz Stanley, in all of its glory.
And leaning against it and next to it were a concoction of helpful remedies with a couple of sticky notes to explain each of their benefits. The handwriting gave him away. Jake. In his scrawl, he detailed what to take and when, which ones you could take together. He’d even written out the link to a website talking about pregnancy-safe cold meds. There was also a fruit punch Gatorade. When you reached out, it was still cold. He’d been in recently.
Moving on from the drink and meds, you glanced at the Stanley and saw it had a sticky sitting underneath it, waiting to be read.
Plenty of water will help you and the baby stay healthy. It was worth it
It had perfect timing and came in the mail today of all days
:) –Jake
The note effectively had your head spinning from something other than sickness. . .his kind gesture, making your stomach do soft flips. Your hand floated to touch your tummy at the idea of him doing so sweet for you (and for the baby–his baby).
After reading his advice on what to take, you went ahead and took some Tylenol for your headache and body aches, then used a nasal spray to help loosen up whatever drainage you could. The Vicks rub he’d left had been a welcome solvent on your chest, temples, and under your nose.
But, it didn’t take long for your stomach to start rumbling, so you took that as your sign to find something that would ease the scratch in your throat and warm you up.
You went out to the kitchen for food, holding your brand new Stanley, taking several healthy sips of the iced water from it. When you bent down to pour food in Stevie’s dish, you realized there was already kibble in there. . . that Jake undoubtedly left for her.
You were sure your heart monitor was picking up all kinds of strange palpitations at his gestures.
Around the time you’d noticed Stevie’s food, you went to text him to tell him thank you. Only to find he’d sent a text about twenty minutes ago saying he’d left for the night. And while it made your heart sink, you knew you had no right to feel sad about it. . . especially when he’d done so much to help you before you’d even woken from your nap.
To add emphasis to that thought, you noticed at just the right time that he’d also left a couple Panera soups waiting on the counter for you. God. . . he was wonderful. You read the note he’d left with the two little sealed containers.
Soup is the best when you’re sick :)
–Jake
Your body was already hurting a little less after you’d heated and almost instantly downed one of the delicious soups. A warm shower sounded more than tempting, so you didn’t waste time throwing away your trash and making your way to grab the shower steamer pods he’d left for you on your bedside table (they were a pregnancy-safe brand, he’d assured on a sticky, which made you softly smile).
After placing them in the heating shower to begin dissolving the comforting notes of lavender and rose, you padded back to the kitchen for your new Stanley when you noticed something on the counter.
In an arranged group on the counter sat a few books you'd bought the other night. You recognized them. They sat with a notebook, stickies, and pens. Two of the books were closed, stacked, and tabbed with stickies–all bright pinks, greens, and blues.
Though, there was one more, face up and open, as if he’d had to leave unplanned and hadn’t had time to shut it. There was a pad of stickies sitting atop the page it was opened to. A pen was on top of the pad, which, when you walked closer, realized there was plenty of Jake’s scrawl already written on it. The page had a heading that read:
Props and pillows and sleep, oh my!
And he’d written the following on his sticky, which lay upon the page:
–Look into pregnancy pillows for y/n
–Be patient!!
–Do what you can to help her find the right set up for sleep or rest
–Adhere to her sleep schedules (no loud sounds or bright lights when she’s asleep, etc)
–She needs sufficient rest (has healthy outcomes for her and the baby)
You went to look at the cover of the book, but before you could look at it, you stopped yourself. For some reason, it felt like an invasion of his privacy. Even though he’d left it open on the counter, these were his notes, not yours.
But just before you could walk any further to the bathroom and ignore his notes, the book stacked on top of the other had a note stuck to the top of it. And, written in bold, black sharpie, were the words Remember: Do WHATEVER you can to help y/n – it’s for the BABY!
The words it’s for the baby being written with finality at the end of the statement reminded you that chances were, all of this was not really for you. . . definitely not. You didn’t deserve that from him. No, whatever was for you was done for the ultimate benefit of the baby.
All of everything he did was for the baby. All of the words of reassurance. The trip to the bookstore. Panera. The meds tonight. Taking you to counseling. . . ev-ery-thing.
And that was fine. . .
So why was a tear drawn to your eye as you sped away from the book that sat on top of the counter? And why had you felt the need to go back to your room on the way to the shower, to get the Stanley cup you’d bought yourself? Why did the thought of using the one Jake bought for you make your stomach feel all tangled and weird?
Because he doesn’t care about you, a voice nagged, reminding you. It was a familiar voice, filtering in from the dark tresses of your mind. He doesn’t care about you. This is for the baby. So if you feel like it’s for you, know it’s not. Let him help the baby. Don’t be selfish. The baby matters most.
You couldn’t help but agree with the voice. The baby did matter most. Not you.
So, you resolutely chose to wait out the calming scent of the steamer, until it all pooled down the drain. Stepping in when the scent was gone seemed the only option, as the way the shower calmed you was only for your benefit and not necessarily the baby’s.
Yes, it sounded fucked up and foolish in your head. But you were trying to navigate these thoughts the best you fucking could and you were grasping for something that made sense. But all you were doing was making no sense.
God, what the fuck, y/n?
And, stupidly, for whatever fucking selfish reason (because you knew for sure you were selfish–evidence proved that), you found yourself hiccuping on tears that hurt your already-aching body, under the lukewarm spray of the shower.
He didn't truly care about you. Not really. It was all for the baby.
-🌼🌼🌼-
Once your mind was lucid after your little cold-sickness stint, you noticed stretch marks had started showing up. One by one, they’d started becoming stark and apparent and made you feel gross.
The creams and oils you’d ordered seemed to help the slightest bit with the new darkness of the few tiger stripe-like lines. They truly looked heinous against your otherwise unmarred skin. You’d felt insecurities really begin to kick in after you’d cried in the shower on the first day out of three of your sickness.
During the latter three days of your cold (or whatever the hell it was), you’d sulked and avoided Jake’s help in whatever way you could. You wanted his help with the baby. Only with the baby. But the baby wasn’t there yet.
So, you didn’t need his help. He didn’t need to care about you. Only the baby. It was common sense. And it would be fine.
But it still made you feel oddly unwanted. The feeling didn’t matter.
But, for you, with your utterly complicated past, feeling unwanted came hurtling towards you, without any sign of stopping.
Since you were a child, feeling unwanted in your mother’s grimy home, a whole range of other negative emotions accompanied that familiar feeling. Most call it depression. Your oldest friend.
And, it had officially lit up for this new stage of your life. Why enjoy things for too long? It wasn’t worth it. Right?
So, the way your skin was beginning to scar due to growth you absolutely couldn’t control. . . it just set misery aflame in your amped-up insecurities and dispirit.
On the first night of December, the depressive thoughts persisted. You stood with your big sleep t-shirt tucked up under your heavy-ass boobs as you lathered your tummy up with the last oil in your new, nightly anti-stretch mark routine. As you did so, tears pooled in your eyes at the sight of yourself.
And, seemingly out of nowhere, your thoughts picked up on a different train. . . something you hadn’t really taken time to be super upset about yet. The thought slipped in amongst the rest of your woes.
It was the thought of being a single mother.
And while it didn’t matter and wasn’t completely true, because Jake would be there, you’d still be doing it on your own in a sense. You would be on your own. The two of you definitely weren’t together. He wouldn’t be there with you. He would just be there, doing his own thing for the baby, with Maya by his side. (Nausea crept up at her name alone. Gag.)
You were going to be a single mother. Just like your own moth–. No. You locked eyes with yourself in the mirror, momentarily stopping the massaging of your belly.
I will not let my mind go there, you asserted silently, staring daggers through your reflection. I am not her. I am not. I can’t be. I won’t be. What would Gia say? What would Jake say?
Amidst your crying and sorrowful thoughts, the knock on the door of the bathroom kind of spooked you. And, in the depths of your despair, you couldn’t really care fucking less who saw you right now. That was just how pitiful you felt.
“Come in,” you said, sniffing and trying to cover the sound of tears in your voice by swallowing them.
When the door began opening, you had to scoot over a little to let Jake in. You knew it was him. He’d been home all night with you, while Maya was busy doing whatever the hell she needed to do for her job.
He’d spent a couple hours catching up on New Girl with you and it had been nice. Except, anytime you thought about how it wasn’t really for your benefit and rather him just being your friend for the baby. . . It just wasn't the same.
“You okay?” He carefully pondered, coming to stand slightly behind you in the mirror.
But, as soon as he appeared next to you and saw your current state of dress, his eyes went immediately to your bare tummy. He stayed trained on the bump that continued to grow, day by day. Still not huge, but definitely not small.
Insecurities were instantly blossoming at his stare. He was not looking away for anything, lost in a trance. He was probably in shock at just how big your belly had gotten, compared to the last time he’d seen you like this. Chances were, he was repulsed by what he saw.
You effectively decided the stretch marks had been tended to enough for the night. You went to pull your Pratt shirt over the exposed skin. But to your surprise, his hand was shooting out, around your body, just as quick, to stop you before you could pull it down too far.
He definitely succeeded in stopping you, holding your wrist. You were in shock – skin flaming at his touch . . .felt it everywhere.
“I want to see,” he requested, sort of breathless. What? He wanted to–? “You look–this is–.”
“Ugly? Fat? Disgust–?”
“Beautiful,” he firmly stated, his eyes finally locking with yours in the mirror at the word. “This is beautiful. You are beautiful.”
His hand still held your hand over shirt, not daring to touch your belly. You couldn’t move to make the position change. The fact that he’d just called you beautiful was like a lightning bolt to your entire nervous system.
“I’m not–,” you shook your head, at a loss for words. You did not fully agree with him. Was it beautiful that you were holding the baby? Was the baby beautiful inside? Yes. But were you loving your body these days? Absolutely not. “The stretch marks. . . I’m so fucking big. . .”
“You aren’t,” he suddenly dropped his hand, and you were missing his touch as soon as it was gone. He went to lean against the bathroom counter, facing you. His eyes bounced between your belly and your eyes, settling on your irises as he continued. “You are not any of the things you called yourself. I don’t think any of those things when I see you. . . I don’t even understand how you could–,” he shook his head, blinking once before finding your eyes. “I just see a woman who is special to me. A beautiful woman who is carrying my baby.”
Carrying my baby.
Those words. . . they did something to you. Your palms were sweaty as you held tighter to your shirt, rolled under your boobs.
“The baby is beautiful,” you concurred. And surprisingly, you didn’t trip over your words. “But I am–.”
“You are beautiful. I am talking about you right now,” he stated, with no room for disagreement in his tone. “Don’t discount that. Please.”
“Are you just saying these things because I’m carrying your baby?”
Where did that come from? Shit. Nothing like baring your most vulnerable feelings to the very person you feel most vulnerable in front of. . .
“No,” he said without pause. He sounded sure. “You have always been beautiful. It’s just. . . enhanced now. I can’t. . .it’s hard to explain.”
You wanted to ask him to try to explain it but you didn’t.
All of a sudden, you felt confident to ask more.
“You don’t just think so because of the baby? Do you just care about me because of the baby?”
Jesus. There it was.
“We’ve gone over this,” he sighed, rubbing circles against his temple. He didn’t keep on with the action, instead stuffing his hands in his pockets as he found your eyes with his.
“I know, but I just. . . I feel like I don’t matter. I mean, I really don’t right now do I?" You sarcastically laughed, eyes watering. "All I’m good for is being the big, fat incubator who hates her body and has ugly fucking stretch marks because my belly won’t slow the fuck–.”
“It’s good that it won’t slow down,” he reassured, amber-brown irises smiling with his lopsided grin. “It means the baby’s healthy and growing.”
“But you do think I’m an incubator,” you stubbornly persisted. “Didn’t say anything to argue that.” Your tone unnecessarily snipped with your next words, “Jake, you just want to help the baby. I know this. So just wait until the baby’s here. Don’t worry about me or making me feel better if you just want to help the–.”
“Where are you getting this from?”
You stared at each other for a few moments. . . . He gave you a look that told you he could see you.
“My mind is a really twisty place,” you huffed a humorless laugh, rubbing your own temples now. “It never shuts the fuck up,” you paused–didn’t want to say anything about the sticky note on the book that had spurred the thoughts. The same thoughts you’d voiced the night you’d told him. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve already been insecure about all of this shit. It’s just–.”
“I don’t view you as an incubator,” he insisted, crossing his arms, strong fingers wrapping around stronger biceps. “I view you as a brave fucking woman who is being selfless as hell. You’re growing a fucking human, y/n,” he said, grin widening. You felt your lips lift, too. He continued, “And I can’t help but be amazed by that alone every. single. day. And while that is beautiful, yes - I won’t say it isn’t because it is,” he unwaveringly asserted.
“But. . . it’s more,” he kept on. “You’ve been this woman-the one in front of me - for a long ass time–before I ever knew you. Though, since I’ve known you, I’ve had the privilege of seeing this woman. I knew your heart right off the bat–since the day Josh told me about this girl who was letting a man she didn’t know move into her fucking home. Just because she cared about the situation. Didn't even know me," He raised a brow, lips quirking as yours did the same. “You’re selfless and–,” he paused.
His eyes shut briefly before opening to yours. Except this time. . . they were wet with emotion. Yours were, too. Your heart was pounding and you felt warm with a blush, from your chest to your face.
“And kind. So thoughtful when you don’t need to be. You care a whole fuckin’ lot for others and sometimes it gets you in trouble because you get in your head and it hurts you,” he said, brows dipped with a shake of his head. “But the fact that your heart is the way it is in spite of everything you’ve been through–I can’t even imagine, y/n. All of that and so much fucking more makes you beautiful,” he tucked his hair behind his ears before they went back into his pockets. “So, no, it’s not just because of the baby. It’s just one more thing that makes you beautiful.”
You were utterly speechless, and you couldn’t stop the wetness in your own eyes, a tear trickling down your own cheek. . . How could he even begin to say all of those things about you when you’d been so terrible to him? Always made assumptions?
You weren’t sure how much time passed when you finally swallowed down your own tears and found the most simple words you could mutter. “Thanks, Jake,” you whispered.
“Don’t thank me,” he winked. It clicked with you that you could faintly hear your heart monitor phone going off in your room. It was alerting you of unusual heart activity. No fucking wonder - with the poetry the man had just spoken. He heard it, too, apparently, brows wrinkling. “What is that sound that’s been going off for the last few–?”
“My heart monitor phone. My heart is beating really fucking hard in my chest right now and the monitor picked up on the palpitations,” you blushed, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear as you finally pulled your shirt down. “I’m not used to hearing people say things like that about me. It just catches me off guard when you–,” you coughed, blinking as you located some sense. “When anyone says sweet things like that to me.”
Then, you were back in time. Yet again. On the living room floor. That day it'd rained. . . a quiet, gray morning. He'd said things so like what he'd said just now. The same day those Aretha Franklin songs had sealed a place in your heart. Well– both of your hearts, apparently. . . according to Jake at the bar.
A comfortable silence had crept over the two of you that morning, he’d so obviously been watching you– admiring you–not to be mistaken for anything else as you'd laid atop him.
His next words confirmed it.
“Even in the grayness of this morning, you shine so bright,” he said, almost absentmindedly. “You fucking glow, y/n. You’re just brilliant.”
All you’d been able to utter was a measly, “Thank you.” The sound of tears in your throat, behind your response, had surprised you.
“Has no one ever told you?” Jake had pondered, his warm chest breathing steadily and comfortably beneath you.
You’d explained how Josh and Elsie were kind to you, but. . . “hearing you say something like that. . .,” you’d emphasized to him. “Those words. . . It just feels good. I don’t know,” you’d shaken your head, a tear falling to meet his tanned chest. “And no one has ever said those exact words to me, no.”
“You are all of that and more, my lo—,” he’d cleared his throat, stopping himself from saying a word your heart was now longing so badly to hear. “You are so many things wrapped in one, y/n. So many fantastic things.”
“Stop,” you’d sniffed, more tears falling onto his chest. “You don’t have to say things like that. I promise I’ll still want to have sex with you if you don’t,” you’d laughed, wiping your leftover tears. The words had sounded funny (true, but still funny) as they’d left your mouth.
“I want to tell you those things,” he’d said, firm in his response. “You deserve to hear those good things. Sex or not.”
And tonight had proven that he truly meant that statement. No sex, and still. . . .
But . . . goddamn. The sex.
With that thought in mind, you couldn’t help but watch the sway of his ass in his tight black jeans as you followed out of the bathroom behind him. You bit your lip after bidding him goodnight– only able to think of how fucking badly you missed the sex.
“I fucking love you,” he'd once told you - on the very night that had gotten you in this predicament. “And god, do I love fucking you. . .”
Not that word. . . Where had it come from just now?!
Love. Love. Love. Love. You hardly ever thought of him saying it to you–tried not to because it hurt and you knew it wasn’t true anymore.
But when he’d said those sweet things about you being beautiful just now. . . apparently, your mind couldn't help but chant the word . . .and the sound of him saying it to you. Why?! He was just being kind.
It was so hard wanting him and not being able to have him. . . Not like you ever actually had him - but before you fucked everything up with your stupid, hurtful words.
And, god, did you still want him.
You couldn’t have him like that – all of the reasons were plain as day. But. . . at least you still had the memories. The wonderful memories. But being pregnant made the memories so much worse. . . because one little thought of how he felt inside of you had you actually throbbing for him.
As soon as you got to your bed, you were reaching into your bedside table for your favorite little vibrating instrument. The thought of that morning. . . the idea of having your breasts pushed against his bare chest again as he told you things just like he did tonight. . . You knew it wouldn’t take long for you to be unraveling.
Before long, you were feeling all of the tremors you craved from Jake’s mouth, from the little toy held just right against your quivering bundle of nerves. And in less than five minutes, you were shuddering, body tensing and releasing as you breathily moaned his name into your pillow.
-🌼🌼🌼-
December 4, 2022
Your week ended with a particularly exhausting day at the Black and Gold.
Inventory had come out of nowhere. And, with Josh busy with his new career, it was mostly on you to prepare for it.
The two other girls who worked with you couldn’t give two shits and it showed when you’d shown up for a shift after theirs. Nothing was ever prepared in the evenings or the following mornings if they were in charge—and inventory week was no exception.
In fact, it was glaringly more obvious when it was such an important week as inventory week.
And having to do all of that after your few solid days of feeling like complete and utter crap and while being pregnant? It had been one of the longest days you’d had in your whole life (dramatic? Maybe. But whatever.).
And to top it all off, you’d come home to the apartment being very warm to accommodate the cooler weather outside.
For normal people, it probably felt nice to come into the warmth. And, most likely, it would’ve felt great to you before your pregnancy.
It was just too damn hot in the apartment tonight. You’d wanted to come home and take a warm shower to wash off the day and relax your sore muscles, but the temperature of the place had you throwing that idea away real quick.
So instead, you hurriedly went about feeding Stevie before rushing to your bedroom to dig out the box fan stuffed at the top of your closet. You’d bought it the summer the A/C had let out on you and your sister, and had kept it handy ever since for fear of it happening again.
And at this exact moment, it felt just as hot to you as it did that summer the A/C quit working.
The fan was plugged in and blowing at full blast, towards the bed, in no time. It was sitting on top of your vanity seat, pointing right at your side of the bed. The speed at which you’d gotten it situated was astounding. And your sheets were cool and crisp and tempting you to climb into them when you pulled your covers down.
But you couldn’t climb in yet with the way your bladder was squeezing and hurting with how badly you needed to pee. You’d put it off at the B&G, ready to get home. And then you’d come home to an uncomfortably steamy apartment.
Before heading to the bathroom, you stripped completely of your tight bra (thank you, God), your stuffy sweater and your leggings. Then, changed into a thin pair of pajama shorts and the first camisole you could find in your chest of drawers. And thankfully the thin strapped shirt had no built-in bra to constrict you.
You’d welcomed Stevie into your room, her soft purrs and shaggy fur rubbing against your ankles as you promised her of your soon arrival back.
Finally, after peeing and washing your face, you were ready to lay right in front of that fan.
You stopped by the kitchen to quickly grab a Stanley from the counter– to find nothing. No Stanley. Neither of them.
Shit.
Slapping your forehead, you remembered almost instantly where they still sat on the counter at the Black and Gold. Both of them. Your rush to leave and rest from your long day had prompted you to forget a couple of your most prized possessions.
Without your go-to water tumbler, you felt naked. And even more thirsty.
Your day had been long and hard and now you were paying for it. Ugh.
When you scanned the kitchen for a quick alternative, your eyes immediately landed on the case of waters that Jake had recently bought for rehearsals only. You didn’t give two shits. You were bound to steal one to satiate your thirst.
The one problem was. . .
It was sitting atop the fridge. Out of your reach. And with the few inches Jake had on you, he’d stacked it up there so it would be out of the way. You remembered him saying those exact words as you eyed the package now. Hated those words.
Because not only was it out of the way, it was out of your reach. Out of your reach when you were dying of thirst and needed a drink of water. Stat.
Without thinking of risking anything, you went to grab a table chair quickly and quietly.
You had to be quiet because Jake was home and you did not want to wake him. Not when you were in cavewoman mode. . . and especially not with the way your tits and ass were flashing in your current choice of clothing. Or with the ugly heart monitor that was attached to your chest.
So, as carefully as possible, you sat the chair next to the side of the fridge with the waters and climbed on top of the seat to grab the case of Pure Life. Briefly, you worried about handling a heavy object while pregnant, but put it to the side when you realized pregnant women all over America handled water cases like this. You were fine.
In the lapse of time it took you to contemplate holding the waters, and getting it off the counter, you misplaced the package on the counter top. And right as you silently stepped off the chair, the waters came crashing down onto the floor of the kitchen. The harsh sound of plastic smashing against the ground, filled with several heavy bottles of water, seemed to linger in the air around you as you stood there. One foot still on the chair, one off ready to go.
Not able to change the fact that it crashed onto the ground, you just stood there and stared at the offensive case of water for a moment and cursed it for its loudness. But before you could silently wish harm for too long, you were bending to pick it up.
Once it had been safely placed back on the counter with careful hands, you glanced towards Jake’s room. No movement or sound from it. He probably hadn’t heard — deep in sleep.
And then. . . Your pregnant brain was sparking to life.
There was a fucking Brita in the fridge. Filled to the brim with ice cold water, versus the room temperature water in the case. You’d just filled it this morning before class. And ice cold water sounded so much more appealing than lukewarm. . .
If only you’d remembered before that you had the filtered water waiting in the pitcher. . . There wouldn’t have been a giant crash to possibly wake your roommate.
Putting all of the irritation out of your mind, you went to grab a glass quickly from the cabinet, then hastily pried the pitcher from the refrigerator. With nervous hands, you poured until the glass was literally overflowing.
“Shit!” You whispered at the mess, anxious to be rid of this situation. Tired and thirsty and still feeling warm even in your cami and shorts, your ears rushed with white noise.
This was not ending up like you’d planned.
The pitcher had safely found its spot back in the fridge and you were finally taking a drink from your (overfilled) glass, when you decided to multitask and grab a few paper towels to clean up the counter.
But when they wouldn’t rip off the roll, you yanked too hard. And that resulted in the water you were still drinking, to spill. It dripped down your chin, down your top mostly, and into the top of your shorts. Sensory overload was doing what it did best, overwhelming you—making you lose grip and had the glass falling from your hand and to the ground.
That shatter was much worse than the water case falling, the shards thankfully large, but the few sparkling pieces of glass had you shushing Stevie away when she approached with curiosity.
And if Stevie was approaching, then surely someone else had heard—
“Y/n, what’s going on?” Jake hushed, his voice close behind you, sounding like it was coming from the entryway of the kitchen.
You stilled. Of course he'd woken up. You’d made a fuck ton of noise. Real nice.
You turned on your heel, just the slightest bit, to peek over your shoulder at him. And with the luck you’d already had with the night, the action made you effectively slip from the bit of water that had made its way under your foot.
Falling, more like—and not using the counter to catch yourself like a sane person—towards the hard ground and glass, bump—baby— first—fuckfuckfu—.
Jake’s arms immediately wrapped around you, effectively stopping your fall. He hugged you tightly to him. One arm wrapped fully around your stomach, hand secured to your side, firmly in place. And the other hand— gripping your breast. . . fully.
He had you wrapped up in him, ass pulled into his crotch to keep you steady.
And ho-ly fuck.
Your nipple hardened instantly at the feeling of him holding your chest. You’d been waiting to feel his hand hold your sore breasts. . . And your assumption had been correct. His touch eased the pain in them, felt deliciously good—his touch didn’t hurt them like everyone else seemed to do on contact.
But then he began moving his hands away.
No.
“I’m sorry— I-I didn’t mean to—.”
“Stay.”
The word just slipped out as you grabbed hold of his hand, keeping it secured where he’d initially placed it, carefully situating his fingers over your nipple for the sensation you longed for.
And when you did, he squeezed the flesh through your thin shirt. His other hand gripped your hip, exposed just a bit by your shirt – the way his fingers held you there made you fearful that he’d leave marks.
You fucking hoped so.
And fuck, if he didn’t like it, too. You could feel it against your ass.
The way he continued to massage his other hand on your chest, wrapping his fingers securely around your breast, feeling it, told you so, too. The impulsive urge to pull down the top of your shirt and give him full access was becoming more and more appealing by the second.
But you didn’t do it. Didn’t want to do too much and scare him away.
You just let his arm come to rest where he apparently wanted it to, fully over the other breast. He comfortably situated his arm, rubbed a purposeful thumb over your sensitive nipple.
“Jake,” you whispered. Couldn’t help it. He elicited this feeling. “Please.”
With your words, he pressed his front harder against your ass. God, you could feel the shape of him.
Letting the moment take over, you decided to let your body lean into his, rested against him and pushed your ass purposefully into his hardening dick. The breath he sucked in was not lost on you, and you craved hearing it again, so you repeated the action against him.
His hand tightened around your breast, and he began massaging it as he used his grip to pull you even closer to him. His thumb moved to rub tight circles around your taut nipple. It felt so good. . . your head fell back against his shoulder, sucking in your own breath between your teeth. The way he gently kneaded the flesh in his strong grip had electricity shooting through your chest, all the way down to your toes.
Your heart was going crazy, beating frantically, barely letting up with its assault against your chest. The feeling of him against you was enough to make you lose your breath with the way your heart was clenching in your chest, all the way up to your throat.
And then you heard a familiar, faint beeping from your bedroom.
The blessed heart monitor phone. Tracking when your heart rate would increase. The stupid phone didn’t need to tell you that it was beating hard right now. And so what if you fainted? You would do it in Jake’s arms. No better place to be.
All you knew was that you were elated that it was still in your room – and quiet enough to the average ear that it hopefully didn’t break the air of want between you and this man you wanted so. badly.
Jake hadn’t heard it - or didn't care to stop if he had, that much seemed to be clear.
He angled his hips, pressing so cozily into your backside. You could feel all of him – moving in slow circles, while still pressed tightly to your ass. That continued on for a while until he nudged himself, right in the middle of your ass. You felt him pulsing. Tucked into you, making your core throb even more for him.
Your nerves were on fire, and when he began rolling his hips, thrusting into your ass. . . you released the tiniest moan. It was such a small sound that you briefly thought you’d imagined it. But then the hand that had been holding your hip came to wrap around your throat briefly, and then up to your mouth.
His breath came in hot waves against your ear, his voice gravelly with need. “It’s late. We shouldn’t make noise like that. It’s too late.”
After making his point known, his hand moved to sweep some hair over one shoulder, leaving your neck exposed for him to breathe hotly against. . . and then lick. Your breath hitched at the sensation of his wet tongue, making loose circles against your hot, sweating flesh.
“You still taste so good,” he moaned with the words, ever so quietly. “You always will–but it’s like you taste sweeter than before. I can’t even–.
But he never finished what he was saying, choosing instead to press sloppy kisses against your skin. His lips and his tongue, moving together to suck gently.
Fuck! What had gotten into–?
Your body relaxed into him all on its own, moving near enough to him that you felt like one.
Your ass ground against him, pressing so close. He kept with his motions as he angled his lips to hover above your bare shoulder, breath hot on your skin.
Though, his kisses stopped. But, he still released puffs of overexerted breaths, over your skin, wet from his mouth. It made your toes curl and your eyes fall closed. He didn’t give your neck any more attention as he used his position to lean up and look over the front of your body, effectively pulling you even closer to him.
“God,” he breathed, his breath hitting from exposed shoulder, onto your collar bones. Your motions continued, but just a little slower to keep him where he was, not wanting to somehow push him away. You felt him, throbbing steadily against your ass. “You’re soaked.”
You have no idea, you silently, hotly responded, moving to rub your thighs together.
But you remembered your predicament. What he was talking about. Your clothes were completely soaked through. There had been so much water. He was talking about your clothes.
“I spilled my water,” you breathed back, so quiet.
“I can see that. Y/n– fuck,” he rutted against your ass, his hand moving to the bottom of your full breast to hold it in a steady grip. You realized he was moving his hand to see the entire breast, your straining nipples through the soaked white fabric. “Your tits. . . they’re so fucking– Goddammit.”
“Sore,” you moaned back, your body arching in need against the hardness in his loose pajama pants. “Heavy.”
“God, I’m sor–,” he went to move his hand again. And you once again brought your hand up to stop him.
“No, Jake,” you held his hand in a tight grip, rubbing your thumb over the back of it. “Feels good.”
“Yeah?” He questioned, raspy and needy.
Then, he was suddenly letting go of your chest to move your strap to do what you so desperately wanted.
Once it was draped over your shoulder, he moved a hand slowly over your sternum, into the front of your shirt. When he grazed his fingers over your oversensitive nipple, you whined, knees buckling. And, finally, he pulled your breast out to touch the air.
And just before he could hold it with the hand that was readily going to grasp it. . . his bedroom door was creaking open.
“Jakey?” Maya’s voice rang through the apartment. “You okay?”
Of course she was here. Why wouldn’t she be?
You hadn’t heard the tell-tale sign of anyone taking steps towards the kitchen from the slightly creaky hallway, but you still decided you needed to get the fuck away from Jake. He was not yours.
You pulled away harshly and quickly, turning around all as you went to pull up your tank.
When you fully turned around, he was standing stock-still, watching your every move with your top, not letting his eyes fall away from your breasts. Your hard nipples. You felt the blush spread across your entire chest.
Then he bit his lip, your entire body heating at the motion, before he was responding.
You moved forward to hold his cheek, trying to wake him from the daze he was in. Your words barely hit the air, you were so quiet. “Jake, go back to your room. I’ll clean this up so she doesn’t–.”
“I’m good, babe,” he called back to her in a low tone, still honing in on your eyes. Your brows dipped, confused. He looked to the fridge, his hand coming to hold your bicep, keeping you there. Why was he not getting his ass back to his room? “Y/n’s asleep and I really don’t want to wake her,” he lied, eyes still glued to something to your left.
She could walk in and see he was lying! Why was he being so fucking careless?
“Just go back to bed,” he continued, leaving no room for argument or worry. “I dropped something when I was getting up to get some water.”
“Okay,” she responded, not using the same near-whispering tone as him. “Just don’t be long, baby.”
“I won’t,” he simply said, amber-brown irises, tracing back to yours in the dim lighting of the kitchen, highlighted by the moon, shining in through the kitchen window. Full moon. Anything can happen.
And what was happening was wrong.
When you heard his bedroom door click closed and a little squeak from the bed to indicate someone had placed weight on it, you pulled away from him, his arm slowly dropping back to his side. The eyes that stared back at yours had a question behind them, but you didn’t give him time to ask it.
“Jake,” your tone clipped and quiet. You didn’t want to break the ridiculous cover he’d mindlessly created. “Why the fuck did you lie like that?”
“I didn’t want her to come in here,” he cut back, his inflection reflecting the same hot energy as yours. “If she would’ve known we were both in here, she would have come looking. I don’t need that,” he insisted. “And neither do you. Especially with your tits on full fucking display like that.”
You glanced down, after he’d motioned momentarily at your chest. And, his words rang true when you realized your entire fucking nipple and areola was visible through the material. Even in the darkness of night, you could tell as much. Your arms flew up to snugly cover them, flinching at the way it felt like sharp needles were pressing into your chest momentarily.
When you peered down to where you saw his hand moving, you realized he was palming himself through his pants. You felt yourself release, the slightest bit in your panties.
Your hands tightened closer to your chest, doing the opposite of what you wanted in that moment–you wanted to bring your shirt down over yourself and let him finish on your waiting ches–.
Suddenly the pressure against you was too much and your arms were falling from their place across your breasts. Thus, standing there, on full display. Right fucking there for stupid ass Maya to walk in at any moment.
Honestly, you were the stupid ass. And it seemed like Jake was, too.
Maya was the innocent one in all of this.
“Go wait in your room for me,” he whispered heatedly, his words piercing your heart at the anxious energy floating through your veins. “I’ll clean this up. And then I’ll be—.”
“But–,” you brought your arms up to your chest again, covering yourself. It was a brainless move to flash your chest like that. You didn’t want to tempt him in any way. “This is my mess just–.”
“Y/n,” he all but spit in your direction with the harshness in his whisper. “I don’t want you falling and hurting yourself on the water or glass. Please.”
Good point.
So, you decided you’d do as you were told, though not without the last word.
“Fine,” you practically growled, stepping over water, his hand reaching out to you, trying to balance over a puddle pooled at your feet. You grabbed his hand, one arm covered your heaving chest, as you made your way over the mess, and finished your thought. “But don’t come to my room. Go back to bed. I don’t want Maya to–.”
“I don’t care right now–,” he cut you off, but you didn’t let him continue before interjecting.
“You will in the morning, Jacob,” you bit back, making fiery eye contact, crossing your arms. The hiss you released at the feeling of both arms covering yourself again was embarrassing. So, you tried to play it off. “You will. Just don’t make the mistake of coming to see me ton–.”
“It wouldn’t be a mist–.”
“Jake. Yes it would,” you insisted with a tense whisper, taking one step towards him, not taking your eyes from his once. “I’m not going to have you ruin what you have with her just to make a fucking mistake with me.”
Throughout the span of that small conversation, you saw his eyes go through every possible wave of emotion. His beautiful, deep set eyes had started wide with excitement, to now being filled with white hot frustration. He was mad.
The last emotion made its way straight to the pit of your tummy and to your panties as you felt them draw even wetter. Damn. You’d take any sex with Jake right now, but angry sex? Dammit if that didn’t get you–.
No, y/n. Stop it.
“Do you not want this? Why were you—just minutes ago if you don’t–?”
“I never said I didn’t want it.” You flat-out said, without a second thought. Why even lie when you’d just exposed yourself with whatever you’d just done with him? To him?
The two of you stood there, watching each other with flushed cheeks, hot breaths, and equally heaving chests.
God, you would not be able to hold onto your momentary flash of integrity if you didn’t finish your thought and leave him.
“We just can’t do it. It wouldn’t be right,” you sniffed. Shit. Your throat was tightening, eyes collecting tears. “I don’t want to be the reason you leave a woman–the woman you love,” you choked, foolishly, on the emotion that quickly made its way from your throat to your eyes. “I just want you to be happy.”
His own expression matched yours, his eyes pooled with tears of dejection. There were once more a couple moments, filled with silence.
Silence, aside from your deep breathing, and wrought with an energy you couldn’t place. You had to get away from him.
“Just go to bed. I won’t fucking bother you,” he said, swallowing thickly. He then spoke your words from earlier. “And let me clean this up.”
Again, you sniffled, but nodded, looking down, to cover it with a barely there 'goodnight'.
He didn’t say anything else, just went about his business in the kitchen to put things back together, turning his back on you altogether.
Suffice to say, you cried for a good chunk of time as you laid in bed, after changing into a big t-shirt.
Cried big, fat, somber tears.
The crying had even lasted long enough, keeping you up to hear the bed creak much more than necessary when Jake got back to his bedroom. . . The sound of soft, pleasured moans from both of them, accompanying the groans of the bed as they moved on top of it.
Lucky fucking you.
The bed that used to be yours when that room was yours. . . The acts being made against it that made you want to punch something - someone. Someone with long, black hair and a too-sweet expression.
Like a child, you growled and used a spare pillow to cover your ears until you couldn’t hear anything through the plush filling of the pillow.
You also tried to distract yourself with TikToks, but you couldn’t focus on your feed filled with BabyTok. It just made you sad and wistful as you thought of your day of book shopping with Jake. . .
About 30 minutes later, you figured the coast was clear. It had occurred to you after lying there, doing aimless shit, that you were still very thirsty. . . your tongue felt like cardboard in your mouth.
When you opened the door to go to the kitchen, though, you found a tumbler that didn’t belong to you, waiting for you. And when you picked it up, you realized exactly who it belonged to. . . the words told you as much.
Merry Christmas, Jacob Thomas!
Love you,
Mom
The Cricut-vinyl lettering was placed carefully across the front of the black off-brand Yeti. What you found when you looked through the clear lid was a cup full of water. Iced water.
The crying that ensued as you closed the door and placed the cup on your nightstand was no surprise to you. The sweet action made your heart thrum with unbridled admiration for him.
You hated how things were now. . . how simply interacting with him the way you had was a mistake. When you compared it to the way things had been before the fateful day in the kitchen, it made your stomach sink and your eyes well with more tears.
Then there had been what you’d heard through the walls. . . it made you want to fucking vomit. But. . .you’d brought it on yourself. No question about it.
Aaand, more of the damn tears. . .
After taking a few healthy swigs from the cup, you felt sleep find you without warning. Your eyes were beginning to close on their own.
And, as you faded into a well-earned sleep, the only solace you found that night was the smooth bump of your tummy, which your hands held protectively–longingly–as you wandered to sleep.
-🌼🌼🌼-
a/n: hmmmmm what do you think will follow that night in the kitchen?????
Change the World from Friendsgiving :)
ty for being the best readers in the world and pleaseee never hesitate to send in your wonderful thoughts! love youuuu <3
& as usual, it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all. :( so please check to see that you’re down there because if you’ve asked to be on the taglist, i tried to tag you. buuuut tumblr wouldn’t let me do it for everyone 🙃 ugh. and if i somehow forgot to tag someone, please also let me know that! (i'm a NOOB and i have terrible memory)
Taglist:
@joshym, @gretavanfleetposts, @alyson814, @fretaganvleet, @lallisonl, @writingcold, @gvfpal, @twinszka, @jessicafg03, @reesetrippingthelight, @sacredjake, @laurenlovesgretavanfleet, @gretavangroove, @222headedcalf, @dreamssingold, @carbondancingthroughtime, @raviolilegs, @way-to-go-lad, @jakekiszkasmommy, @katgvf, @objectsinspvce, @jaketlover, @vanfleeter, @thetroublegetssoloud71, @seditabets, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlove, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend
@aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @sacredtheslay, @alienobsever, @hollyco, @age0fwagner, @raceb14, @stardustcatcher, @styles-canvas, @ladywhimsymoon, @earthgrlsreasy, @peaceloveunitygvf
@torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98, @mackalah, @lek-gvf, @carlyfleet, @profitofthedune, @mefiorini, @welllauragvf, @highway-tuna, @dont-go-home-without-me, @sarah-gvf01, @polemicandcontent, @ageofbajabule, @texas-bbq-pringles
(i think i figured out the tags limit! woooohoooo!! boo, tumblr. you're not getting me down today lmao)
#jake kiszka x reader#jake kiszka fic#jake kiszka fanfic#jake fic#my fics#covet#i am so DAMN excited for what's coming
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Text
Nachtisch (König x Reader)
Pairing: König x AFAB!Reader
Category: Fluff & Smut
Warnings: Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Thigh Riding, Body Worship, Slight Hair Pulling, Praise (Both Sides), I Can’t Speak German
Word Count: 1k+
Summary: After you come home from a rough day at work, your boyfriend surprises you with a homemade dinner. However, he has something different in mind for dessert…
MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI
You drew out a long sigh as you dragged your heavy body through the door. Your muscles ached with every movement you made. You didn’t bother to put up shoes away, opting to kick them towards their cubby.
“Schatz?” your boyfriend’s voice called. The corners of your lips turned up as you waltzed around the corner. Your eyes lit up when you saw the scene in front of you. An array of piping hot Austrian food was spread across the table. König placed a dish of potatoes down, his hulking form adorned with an apron that clung to his dark clothes.
“Welcome home, Katzchen,” he said with a bright smile. He rubbed the back of his neck as you stood there, eyes glued to the bounty of food and soft candlelight that dimly lit the room.
“(Y/N)? Are you-“ his question was cut short when you wrapped your arms around him. You nuzzled your face into his torso, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.
“There, there,” he cooed, his large hands rubbing up and down the expanse of your back. You sniffled as he pulled back, wiping a tear away with his thumb.
“Thank you, so much,” you sniffed. His eyelids dropped slightly as he gave a gentle grin. He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours.
“Of course, meine Schatz,” he murmured. Your boyfriend motioned his huge arm to the table.
“Come now, let’s get that belly of yours nice and full,” he hummed.
***
Dinner was absolutely delicious. From the Wiener Schnitzel to the Käsespätzle, you were more than satisfied when you finished your meal.
“That was amazing. Thank you so much,” you beamed. König’s cheeks were dusted a light pink as he averted your gaze.
“D-Danke, it was nothing really. Just some recipes Mama and Oma taught me,” he trailed off. You smiled as you took his giant hand into yours.
“They taught you very well,” you said as you reached up to kiss him.
His light blue eyes locked with yours as you pulled away. His tongue licked around his lips before he leaned forward, his body almost enveloping yours.
“König?” you asked. You felt a jolt of electricity roll down your spine when his lips grazed the shell of your ear.
“Katzchen, I had a...different idea for dessert,” he murmured before nibbling on the flesh of your ear. Your brows arched as your core began to heat at his implications.
“Oh?” you hummed.
Your voice caught in your throat when he began to slowly make a trail of hot kisses down your neck. You rubbed your thighs together and wiggled in your chair. A small whimper of protest left your throat when he leaned back. His pupils were blown wide as his chest heaved, his dirty blond hair slightly tousled around. Before you knew it, your boyfriend had picked you up bridal style, him lifting your body as if it were a rag doll. You squeaked when one of his rough hands grabbed and squeezed your plump ass. Your face quickly buried into his shoulder.
“I can’t wait to taste how sweet you are,” he growled. Heat erupted throughout your body as you bit your lower lip. He was going to be the death of you.
Your hands clutched onto his shirt as he carried you to the bedroom, careful to place you down on a mountain of pillows he set up earlier. His eyes were hungry as they raked over every inch of your body. Even though your hair was slightly messy and clothes shuffled around, you were like the most beautiful jewel in the world to him.
Your heart was pounding when your lips met with a deep embrace. König’s eyes closed as he breathed in, his hands sliding up to take off your shirt.
“Let me know if I need to stop,” he whispered. You gave a hard nod, your heart steadily racing.
“I will,” you assured him. The tower of a man gave a sheepish smile. Each time was like the first time with him. He always treated you like you were a fine delicate flower.
A moan flew from your mouth when his hot breath met your nipple. His eyes were locked onto your breast as the pebble hardened. You gasped when his lips latched onto your tit. His wet tongue swirled around your areola, ensuring every inch was covered. Your eyes screwed shut as he took your nipple between his teeth, suckling on it like it was the sweetest lollipop.
“K-König,” you whined.
Your hips jumped forward and landed on his sturdy thigh. He groaned as he felt you rub your clothed heat on his leg.
“Mein Gott,” he muffled into your breast.
He smoothly pressed his leg into your crotch, the pressure building in your lower regions. His other hand came up to your other boob, now rolling your nipple between his rough thumb and forefinger. You were a complete mess, and König couldn’t get enough of it. His slacks became tight as your cute face scrunched up, your hips flush and rutting up against his thigh. You blushed when you felt how wet you were getting. You squeezed his firm thigh as König switched to your other breast, his hand kneading your plump flesh.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.
Each nerve in your body was on fire, your pussy now desperately rubbing against his slacks. His mouth suddenly detached from your boob with a juicy “pop”. The mounting pressure between your legs dissolved as he shifted his body to gently lay on top of yours. Your eyes shot open as you watched his face glide down your stomach. His piercing gaze never left your eyes as he trailed kisses down your torso.
“Every inch of you is precious, meine liebe,” he murmured over your burning skin. Your heartbeat soared as he lowered his lips to your stomach, then your hips. His teeth suddenly picked and nibbled the skin near the hem of your pants.
“Oh-Oh my God,” you stammered.
Your heart pounded in your ribcage as you watched his steady movements. König shot you a wry smile as he hooked his fingers around your pants. You yelped when he pulled your pants and panties off in one motion. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. You were just too cute. Your face glowed a deep red as you watched his mouth move just above your aching hole.
“You’re so wet,” he sighed as he gently pried your legs apart. He looked up at you, his ravenous, icy gaze sending shivers down your spine.
“May I?” he asked softly. You swallowed thickly as you nodded, your head already spinning.
“Please,” you breathed.
König hummed before he stuck the tip of his tongue out and slowly dragged it across your wet folds. Bolts of electricity shot through your body as he licked up and down your delicious fruit. Your slick coated his broad chin as he took in a deep breath. He opened his mouth and dove back down, his lips now completely enveloping your cunt.
“Ah!” you moaned out, your thighs threatening to close around him.
He inhaled softly through his nose as his eyes closed. You fisted the sheets beneath you as you felt his nose continued to bump and rub your clit. His tongue darted and swirled around your dripping cunt, ensuring every long and languid stroke was savored by both of you.
“Gott, you taste so good,” König moaned above your snatch. His chin glistened with your slick in the dim lighting of your room, his face absolutely red as he grew more drunk on your pussy.
He pressed a soft kiss to your wet heat before diving back in. You keened his name when the underside of his tongue dragged across your heat. Your head tilted back when you felt his lips come back up and circle around your swollen nub. König’s wet muscle swirled around your clit, encasing it in a vice grip.
“Yes! Yes!” you moaned.
He hummed into your pussy, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure crashing through your aching core. You wanted to grab his dirty blond locks and press his face impossibly closer to you, as if he wasn’t nearly drowning in you. A whine escaped you as his whole mouth sucked on your folds again.
“Kö-Ah!” you cried out.
His tongue began to lap and dance at your entrance. He began to quickly mutter phrases in German, but your mind was too far gone to comprehend. You felt entirely wrapped in ecstasy.
“Just like that,” you repeated over and over.
You shivered as you felt the hot muscle finally begin to press into your plush walls. Your legs shook as his broad shoulders held them open while he tenderly moved his tongue around your weeping hole.
“Fuck, König,” you keened. “So good, baby,” you praised. He groaned into you as you took your hands into his hair, slightly tugging on it. “So good...” you moaned ceaselessly.
You felt him smile into your folds as he lavished you with his tongue. The tip of his wet muscle glided across your spongy g-spot, making you melt into the bed below you. Soon, every muscle in your abdomen began to grow tighter and tighter...
“I-I’m gonna-“ your voice cracked when he pressed his thumb to your swollen clit. The pressure was simply too much, your mind bursting beneath the weight of pleasure.
The band inside of you violently snapped as your body tensed. Your mouth opened wide as a symphony of your moans flooded the room. König eagerly lapped as your cum splashed onto his scarred face, his mouth gasping for air only once before he went back to gorging himself on your sweet nectar. Your back crashed onto the pillows as you panted, the last waves of your orgasm fluttering in your walls. Your body has never felt lighter as you floated back down from your high.
König raised his face from your soaked cunt, his eyes never leaving yours as he licked the remains of your cum from his lips. His chin glistened with your slick before he swiped it with his thumb. You moaned as you watched him pop it into his mouth. He smiled before he leaned towards you and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“That was-God, that was so good,” you gasped, still slightly out of breath. His face wore such a deep expression of admiration as he laid down by your side.
“I’m so happy, Schatz,” he said. He shifted and wrapped his arms around you. “I’m sorry you had such a rough day, but just know I’m always here to help you,” he said, his cheeks dusted with pink. You grinned before kissing him, not minding the slight taste of yourself on his lips.
“Thank you baby,” you whispered.
Your hands interlocked as he pulled you closer to his massive form. Your giant teddy bear. As you settled into his chest, your eyes grazed down to find a familiar bulge twitching in his pants. That’s when you realized-
You haven’t had your dessert yet.
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