#can't just get some frozen pizza and call it a day because there's usually like two options without meat and he doesn't eat either

[daughterofhecata]

The worst part of being an adult is having to figure out what to have for dinner every single day

#and i say this as someone who enjoys cooking and doesn't bat an eye at spending an hour in the kitchen #tho half of my problem is living with and cooking for a very picky eater who's also a vegetarian #can't just get some frozen pizza and call it a day because there's usually like two options without meat and he doesn't eat either #kaj rambles #to delete later

[angel-of-the-moons]

I’d love to request a sibling/roommates fic with Pavi Hobie and the reader if it’s not too much trouble! All 3 of them are so sibling coded. We all decide “fuck it the rent’s cheaper if it’s three of us LET’S BE ROOMMATES”. Some people think ‘oh that apartment’s gonna be trashed’, nope. We all have our respective chores and have a schedule on who takes the trash out. We love spending time at bedtime doing our own skincare routines and brushing our teeth together (callout for people that say that Hobie doesn’t bathe, that man is one of the CLEANEST fuckers out there). Definitely doesn’t stop the occasional argument of “WHO ATE MY LEFTOVER PIZZA?!” “WHO ATE MY LEFTOVER PALAK PANEER?!” “WHO ATE MY FUCKING LAST SCOTCH EGG?!”

Bugs In A Rug!

Platonic! Hobie Brown x Pavitr Prabhakar x Reader

TW/CW: None!

A/N: Sweetheart I am so sorry this has been backed up for so long, I plan on eating through some of my asks (again) So I can open them up. The ones I don't vibe with might get yeeted (I love you all as well as every request that comes in, but some stuff my brain just can't write! 😭)

🎸🪷🎸🪷🎸🪷🎸🪷🎸🪷

People said the three of you would make poor roommates. That your apartment would be chaotic, messy, and loud just because you were all young and close in age, and rowdy when the three of you goofed off.

Oh, they were wrong in their assumptions. Many looked at you and Pavitr and automatically suggested Hobie would make a mess of your apartment. Oh, no. They were so wrong.

You and Pavitr tended to be forgetful, sometimes leaving little messes in your wake that Hobie would either clean up himself, or flick a dish rag at the both of you until the mess was done with.

Oh, and the food situation. You all shared grocery funds; a sound suggestion that worked out well for your wallets. However... Then came the inevitable "who ate my snack?!" debacle. Pavitr in particular was very protective of his masala cashews--to the point he would actively count each little cashew and write the number on the bag.

A tad excessive, but his determination ratted you out as his "cashew thief".

Almost like how you found out it was Hobie stealing your frozen dinners, and how it was Pavitr stealing some of his jaffa cakes.

Right now, however was a simple, casual day. Hobie had spent the past two hours playing his guitar in his room (soundproofed, thankfully) and you and Pavitr were in your usual hamster pile on the couch, waiting for Hobie to join the two of you for your little communal movie night.

"Hooobieeeeee!" Pavitr said loudly, laying backwards over your side as you scrolled through your phone. "C'moooooooon! We're getting booooooored!"

"Oi, gimme a minute, you twerp!" Hobie called out from his room.

You snicker and wiggle around, purposefully messing with Pavitr's balance as he was draped across you like a lazy cat.

"Hey! Quit it! You're the pillow!" Pavitr laughed, rolling over to pinch your cheeks from behind.

"Nah, you're jush a heavy brat!" You giggle, finally turning your phone screen off as you roll over to try and start to wrestle with him.

Hobie comes out right as you have Pavitr's wrist held in your mouth, and he had your leg in an arm-lock.

Hobie, despite his usual punk aesthetic, was wearing a soft knit jumper that seemed a tad too long--even for his long, lanky frame--some loose sweat pants, and a pink and purple silk bonnet that contained his usually untamed mass of wicks.

He put his hands on his hips and frowned at you two. "Now who's actin' like a couple a' brats? Oh, wait, nevermind, it's always you."

"Hey! You're not funny!" You say, you and Pavitr releasing each other as you begin to reassemble your pile of pillows, blankets, and cushions.

"Oh, please, I'm hilarious." Hobie smirked, flipping you the bird (which you responded with both your middle fingers in return) as he walked into the kitchenette to prep the popcorn and pour out the sweet snacks for your movie binge.

Pavitr laid on his pelly and kicked his feet as he watched Hobie get ready. "Aww! You look so cute today!"

"Do not call me that!" Hobie warned, wagging a finger at him over his shoulder.

"But you do!" You giggle, waggling your eyebrows.

Hobie smacks the bag of popcorn into the microwave and glares at the two of you. "Hey, you two like to keep the damn place as cold as an ice box! I have to dress all warm just to live, you damn penguins!"

"Lizard." You and Pavitr both say without missing a beat. And immediately after you and Pavitr high-five and joke about one owing a pop to the other. Hobie just scoffed loudly and took the bag of popcorn from the microwave, shaking the bag up a bit so the butter spreads, and grabs the bottle of "movie theater butter" the three of you were so fond of.

You and Pavitr turn to the TV and you snatch up the remote, scrolling through films to watch.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Pavitr asked innocoently.

"There's this one movie--the dude in it sounds just like Miguel, I swear!" You say, signing in to your streaming profile to find said movie.

"Ugh," Hobie groans, plopping down onto the ground next to you and your tanned, golden-retriever of a friend. "If he acts like him, I just know the movie is gonna suck."

"No, no, no!" You refute. "He's actually funny and like, he's a pilot or something."

"Fine, fine." He sighed with a lazy smirk, holding the popcorn bucket out to Pavitr for him to grab a handful of the crunchy, popped treat. You meanwhile snagged one of the lemon drop creme cookies he'd set down in between all of you as the movie's opening credits begin to crawl.

It was your first time ever watching this "Star Wars" stuff.

#🌙 answered #hobie brown #pavitr prabhakar #Pavitr Prabhakar x you #Hobie Brown x You #Hobie x Pavitr x You #platonic!reader #roommates au

[magicalsliceofpie]

Day 6-10

On day six I was so tired. All I remember eating was an omelet with cheese and some hot chocolate. I was stressed out because I was trying to finish up some final projects for class. I didn't finish them which stressed me out more.

On day seven I felt completely exhausted. I stayed in bed all day but I didn't do much. I tried to finish my final projects which were due the next morning but I was just so tired. I started feeling sorry for myself so I made some cookie dough and ate 6 good size cookies worth. I also made 2 packs of the cream carbonara ramen flavor from that spicy ramen brand. At the end of the day I almost finished the projects out of anxiety but I fell asleep anyway. I barely had any liquids that day. I did have a glass or two of milk.

On day eight I was woke up very sick. I finished my projects early in the morning and printed them out. I felt dizzy and disoriented but didn't have any other symptoms. Every time I get sick and think its something else I get told it was stress induced and I can't keep going to the doctor. So I just wrote it off and went to work and my late lab. At work I felt even worse and I just stopped by my lab to turn in my project and told my professor that I wasn't feeling good. He let me leave and I'm grateful for that. I could barely drive home. I also slept terrible with constant tossing and turning. That day I drank a cup of milk and ate a banana. I had one slice of pizza when I got home. I drank a lot of water and some sugar free Gatorade for the electrolytes.

On day nine I took my temperature and it was 100 on my forehead and 102 under my tongue. I didn't feel good at all and I called out of work and school. I drank even more liquids that day. Only water this time because the gatorade started to taste pretty bad. I couldn't stomach anything with sugar or even sweet after eating all that cookie dough on day seven. I ate two eggs and two prunes for breakfast. I puked up everything around lunch. For dinner I had clam chowder and a slice of sourdough.

On day ten I was starting to feel better. When I'm sick, throwing up signals the end of it. I ate one small pancake, I made a white rice with a bit of butter and salt, and I blended frozen blue berries, yogurt, and some local honey together. I went to my late lab to present my final project but I called out of work again. They don't mind calling out because they don't have a lot of staff and don't want anything to spread. One time something spread to half the company and from then on they rather you just stay home. One of my class professors asked for a doctors note and I don't know how to tell her that the doctors is too expensive for me right now and that this was likely stress induced anyway. So I just told her that I didn't have one but that I was unsafe to drive to work or school. That usually works but I haven't gotten an email back yet. When I got home I ate a handful of peanuts (lightly salted, no sugar) and a tortilla out of the fridge. My appetite hasn't returned quite yet.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I didn't exercise or do my routine for any of those days. I managed to shower twice and do my laundry but that's about it. This is what my health is like. I have given up on going to the doctors because they tell me the same thing. It's stress. And I have no choice but to believe them because they ran so many tests that I could barely afford. Blood tests and stool samples and ultrasounds. There's nothing but a bit of fat around my liver and even that shouldn't cause any symptoms since it is barley noticeable on the ultrasound. I would like to believe that I have some mystery illness and the doctors aren't listening to me but they are listening.

Everything just keeps showing negative. I feel like I'm going crazy. I was in lab on day ten and someone told me "It seems like you are sick every week. Did they (the doctors) tell you what's wrong?" and it just stuck with me. Even the people I barley know can tell that I'm just not healthy. I push and push and push but it just makes it worse. I know I'm just ranting now but I am happy that I made healthy choices with my food this week. I am going to keep trying to eat healthy and exercise. This blog and the food journal I have been keeping will help me in the future. If there is something wrong with me I can prove it by showing that I'm living a healthy life style. And if there is nothing wrong with me then I can see the patterns of what makes me sick.

I'm trying to keep a positive outlook. I'm going to get back into routine very soon.

[becca-e-barnes]

Omg becs! We need something about son's best friend Bucky because i can't even begin to explain how much it turns me on to think about geting him hard under the table while having dinner all together (and by that I mean my husband, my son and Bucky) and then offering to give gim a lift and driving him home and fucking in the car i just need it

Okay, the THOTS I have about this, I fucking love it 🥵 Like maybe your son tells you his college roommate has really far to travel to go home on weekends so maybe he spends the weekends alone, living off frozen pizzas and instant noodles (and I imagine he looks like precious lil TJ 🥺)

So instead, your husband offers to invite him over for Sunday dinner. It's not a bother, you always make way too much food anyway and it saves this nice boy from having to eat anymore junk. He'd at least get a good, home cooked dinner and something sweet afterwards and it makes you feel a little better knowing he has some company too.

But the first time the poor boy sees you he's clearly smitten, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. He hadn't been warned that you're nothing short of a milf, wearing a cute little apron and God, he wishes that's all you were wearing. And as much as this boy has fallen for you, he's fallen for your cooking just as hard. He thinks he's died and gone to Heaven when you lean over, offering him a second serving of potatoes because you noticed how quickly he ate what you put on his plate. He doesn't want to think about it but his dick is stirring pleasantly in his trousers, feeling you brush against him, the smell of your perfume overwhelming him in the best kind of way, never mind the sight of your cleavage as you lean over him.

It's not long before Bucky finds himself living for a Sunday. He feels so welcome in your home and he always leaves with cheeks that hurt from smiling, a fully belly and a half hard cock.

Over the weeks, he begins to pick up on the little things, like how you and your husband hardly break breath to each other, how you're left with the dishes every week and how your husband and son often don't even stick around long enough for dessert. Bucky pretends not to notice the heartbreaking look on your face as week after week your husband leaves you feeling unappreciated.

So Bucky does his best to make up for it, complimenting you every single chance he gets. "God, it smells so good in here." he groans one particular Sunday, making his way through the door and straight to the kitchen to greet you as he enters the house, leaving your son to sit in the living room with his father.

"Making your favourite today, Buck. Roast beef, mashed potatoes, peas, carrots and gravy." You smile, knowing already that his response is going to make you feel more appreciated than your husband has all week.

"God, I love you, you know that? I keep telling Ollie's friends that you're my dream wife. Tell them all that someday I'm gonna find myself a woman like you. Gonna give her a couple of cute little babies and make sure she's the happiest damn woman on earth." Your stomach tightens at his words because you wish you were about 20 years younger. You'd give him that life in a heartbeat.

"She'll be a lucky lady, sweetheart. You're a lovely boy, you'll make a great husband for someone some day" You smile warmly, noticing that little cocky smile on his face.

"You think so? Cause I mean, if things don't work out with you and your husband, I'd love to show you how well I'd treat a woman like you. Would make sure you know your worth." You've never heard him be so openly suggestive, usually he never goes further than a little harmless compliment while he's helping you with the dishes but today, he's so much more brazen.

But you laugh it off, telling him that you and your husband have been married too long to call it quits now, hoping that'll be the end of the discussion.

At dinner though, your husband hardly takes the time to look at you while Bucky sits beside you, showering you in compliments. "Fuck, I'll never understand how you get those carrots to taste so good." He groans, helping himself to a few more from the dish in the centre of the table.

"They're just roasted with butter, honey and brown sugar, Buck. Nothing special." You smile, watching as he happily clears the serving he just put on his plate.

"Guess it must just be you that makes them special." He smirks and you can't take anymore. Your son isn't paying attention and your husband certainly isn't so you take the chance, placing your hand on Bucky's knee under the table.

Bucky looks up at you but doesn't react, hoping this is going where he thinks it's going.

And of course it does, your hand eventually creeping higher as he tries to keep his cool, stifling a groan as you work your hand over the growing bulge in his jeans. He's always at least half hard when you're around. You just seem to have that affect on him but the feeling of your hand rubbing just where he needs to feel you most has him throbbing, trying to contain himself.

He registers that your husband has asked you something and he registers that you answered but he doesn't pick up any more than that because your hand is torturing him. He so desperately wants to fuck you right then and there, it's all he can think of. He wants to bend you over the dining room table and make your husband watch how a real man would treat you but he holds himself back.

You barely breathe a word to each other as you wash the dishes and he dries them, all of your usual flirtatious banter has dissolved into an unbearable tension. It hangs in the air, neither of you daring to so much as look at the other for fear of the band snapping, making you give in to the temptation.

But when the band does snap, boy does it snap. Your eyes lock on his accidentally and you both move at once. It's needy and passionate and far too desperate, his hands gripping your waist like you're a figment of his imagination. His mouth is so hungry on yours, his lips sliding over your own, barely leaving room for your breathy gasps. He can't get enough of you and you can't get enough of him as he presses you against the kitchen counter, his hard cock pressed against you as his lips begin to trail down your neck.

But God, you can't do this here. Your husband and son are in the next room but it's so long overdue, you can't stop now that you've started. So it's not long until you're driving him to the store, beyond thankful that he has some excuse prepared about needing to go grocery shopping. Your husband doesn't even listen when you tell him you're going out because if he did, he'd realise the store you told him you were going to is closed on Sundays.

Instead, you find yourself in an empty parking lot, in the back seat of your car, underneath this sweet boy who can't tear your clothes off fast enough. His mouth is on yours, his tongue firm and insistent against your own, his bulge grinding against your core in the cramped back seat.

"You know how fuckin' hard it is to watch you play wife for him? That asshole doesn't deserve you." Bucky's lost in thought, panting against your neck as he tears your blouse off.

"Bucky please, don't wanna think of him. Wanna think of you." You gasp, feeling his mouth latch onto one of your nipples, tugging it with his teeth.

"God, your body. You're fucking beautiful and I bet you don't even know it. Jerked off to you more times than I can count." He admits and it sends want throbbing through you.

"Please baby, just fuck me. C-can't take it. Need feel you fill me up." You sound so needy, shamelessly begging to be fucked that he can't help but groan.

"Oh babe, you can't say shit like that. I'm gonna send you back home with that cute little cunt stuffed full of my cum." His voice is strained as you lift your skirt up, exposing your bare, dripping cunt to his hungry gaze while he pulls his jeans down just enough to free his cock.

"You're so perfect. Know that fuckin' pussy tastes so good but I- I can't. Needa feel you cummin' around me. Been dreaming about it for far too long." He groans, giving himself a few firm strokes before pressing his tip to your eager hole, pressing inside in a way that leaves you both moaning.

"S-so tight and wet oh my God. Gonna treat you right. Want you to cum so hard, you forget everything but my name, you got that? This pretty pussy is mine now isn't it? Tell me I own your cunt." He's growling against your skin as he starts to thrust into you and you can only whimper out a response, overwhelmed by how good he feels and how filthy this sweet boy truly is.

#asks answered <3 #anon #becca writes spice #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes smut #sonsbestfriend!bucky #sbf!bucky #I didn't mean for this to get so long wtf #me giving my car the side eye bc I've never christened the back seat #I am... a whole new level of down bad #I am down HELLA bad besties #the things that do it for me rn??? #I'm appalled #but also into it #tw: cheating #tw: infidelity #tw: affair

[undiscovered-horizon]

Mafia!Billy Russo Headcanon Part 2

Author's note: There are still some more things I want to say. Mafia!Billy is my fictional husband bye

[Part 1]

Your friends are jealous and it's quite obvious

To them, you live some rom-com dream

Especially when Billy picks you up with a bouquet and some cheesy line like "they're nearly as pretty as you"

You take your friends to a spa and a restaurant and all of the staff addresses you as Mrs.Russo and asks how things have been.

Would you like your usual order, ma'am? Should we put it on the tab? Today the chef recommends Wagyu beef salad with raspberry vinaigrette and lobster linguini with white truffle alfredo sauce. The chef will be glad to make a special dish just for you. We have also received a delivery of rare wines for sampling, should I bring a wine flight?

One of the many upsides of having the name "Russo" is that there is always a table for you. You didn't book one?

We're sorry, we can't sit you...Oh, Russo you say? If you would just follow me, we might have a spare table.

You're one of the very few people who can actually pull off the "Do you even know who I am?" move

The weirdest moments, for your friends, are when some rich officials stop by your table to say their greetings and ask about some upcoming gala. Then they ask to pass their greetings to your husband

But this lavish lifestyle has brought negative reactions too

Some are calling you a "gold digger"

But make sure Billy doesn't know about that or those people might just disappear or show up missing a vital part of their body

You used to know a girl whose boyfriend called you a gold digger and because it was the first time somebody called you that, you told the story to Billy, absolutely upset and confused that someone would see you that way

I'm saying "used to" because the next day that guy lost both of his hands and the girl refused to talk to you again

Although those comments sometimes do get to you and you ask him whether you actually are a gold digger and Billy is beyond confused

Because you refuse so many of his gifts??? And you accept maybe a third of what he wants to give you??? And you're genuinely upset when he showers you with expensive gifts???

If you're not bathing in hundred-dollar bills, it's not enough for him. As I have mentioned, he doesn't know how to express his love towards you, so he settles for buying you gifts.

All this money! All this money and resources and he wants to give it to you! Because he doesn't think he has anything else of significant worth

It's a hard concept for Billy to grasp that he could buy you frozen pizza and you would love him just as much

Because he has lived in a world in which money and power are the only useful resources. Those are the only things people wanted from him so when you tell him that it doesn't change anything about your feelings, he's not sure what to do or think

At first, he doesn't believe it and thinks you're just trying to be polite and that he can buy your love like he's done with a few women before, but then he learns that you actually mean it and Billy ends up in an uncharted territory of genuine intimacy.

Be understanding, he needs some time to open up and speak in a tone different than cynical

I wrote before that he tends to keep you safe through inconspicuous means

But there are moments when things get a bit more complicated and dangerous and those are the moments when your bravery is less than welcome

He knows you're strong but he also knows that his rivals are ruthless and shameless. So when he shows up sweaty and bloody, telling you in an imperious tone to pack your things, you don't argue. He literally does know better how to act in such a situation.

Billy is willing to get shot and stabbed multiple times to make sure you're okay. Not that you want him to.

"I brought you into this life, it's my responsibility to keep you safe."

Only once did he get in the way of a bullet meant for you and you still feel guilty about it, while he wears that joking smugness saying that he loves you so much he got shot for you

Sometimes he says that you owe him for that bullet but he doesn't mean it. He only cares about the fact that you were alright although seeing you cry over him was a good ego boost

You kiss that scar any time you have the chance and although Billy knows it's a way of you expressing your gratitude and guilt, he never stops you. I mean, he would have to lose his mind to ever stop you from kissing him, no matter the reason

Talking about touch, I like to think about mafia!Billy as a man who sleeps on top of you. Just in case someone barges in and tries to hurt you, they have to go through him first. Literally.

He always waits for you to fall asleep first, no matter how tired he is

Billy lives for both the deep and dumb questions you ask him while you lay in bed

"Do you think it would be fun to be a llama? I mean, you live in Peru or Nepal, or somewhere like that, spit on people and have the softest fur."

Do you have any idea how close he was to buy a llama back then?

Mainly because it feels like you're opening your vulnerable heart to him and saying "this is what I'm thinking of and I want you to be part of it, even if it's weird or cringy". There is a heart-warming element of trust in sharing silliness with someone.

That's the moment Billy realized what people mean when they say that your spouse should be your best friend.

You have made the mistake of mentioning one or two painters you absolutely love and now you own quite a few original paintings.

"So your husband bought you an original Roerich because he thought you might like it? Mine doesn't buy radish when I ask him for it."

Quite obviously, your friends' husbands don't like Billy and you can't help but feel kind of sorry for them. I mean, who wants to listen to their spouse marvel at somebody's husband?

He's the boss so his hands are, technically, clean. All the dirty work is done by his people

That doesn't mean he's a saint. He has done unspeakable things, even if through somebody else's hands and it's a bit of an open secret in your relationship.

You know but don't say anything and it's not like he starts the conversation by listing off all the human rights he has broken

But, as I have said, you know. And that means you realize he is capable of destroying lives without batting an eyelash.

You've never admitted that but he had realized it with time - there are moments when a seed of terrifying doubt appears inside you. I mean, what makes you so sure he won't do something awful to you?

You've seen him angry and you know that whatever happens to him when his patience is running thin, it makes irredeemable atheists pray to every deity they have ever heard of.

When he comes home angry, he can see the spark of fear in your eyes only when it's too late, when you minimally move away from him or remain silent

That's when he leaves your shared house for a few hours, doing God knows what, God knows where. But when he does come back, his anger is gone and Billy seems a little more round-shouldered, a little smaller than when he left.

But your hidden fear has sparked a barely-tamed standup quite a few times. He tries to, angrily, reassure you that you shouldn't be scared of him.

"You know damn well I wouldn't hurt you."

"You knew what you were signing up for when we got married."

I think what angers him the most during those exchanges is that he knows your fear is, to some degree, reasonable. It's common sense to be afraid of a man who drilled through someone's knees just for a name

And that realization makes him question himself whether he really doesn't have it in him to hurt you.

So although he appears angry, he is actually afraid, a lot more than you. Because what if your fear is not baseless? What if his moral spine is flaccid beyond recovery?

He knows what he's personally done to people threatening your well-being. And he shudders at the thought of being in their shoes.

You jokingly call him "tiger" and that's the excuse he uses when he gently bites your shoulder, your ear or your neck (when he bites your thigh you're a little too busy to call him that)

Speaking of the more explicit side of your relationship, you have definitely done it in his office, to the horror and mortifying awkwardness of the employees.

But he's the boss! So no one dares say a word or look when you're leaving

There have been employees who made a comment between themselves regarding your "promiscuity". When somebody told them they should pray no one else had heard that, they just laughed

Good thing (or bad, depending on the point of view) that Anvil's employees generally like you, mainly because you take your time to engage in conversation and ask how they're doing. And that you never act like you're better than them in any way, shape or form.

The only question they don't want to ask is how they like working at Anvil. That's the one inquiry that sets off primal fear in them and so everyone just nods along and says how great things are.

So someone snitched and those company "gossip girls" showed up to work heavily mutilated and no one questioned that

Let's just say that an example has been made and the employees tell new hires that story like some old folk legend

You are, partially, Billy's partner in crime.

All those fancy galas and egotistic people you meet, sometimes Billy wants a second opinion and asks or tricks you into helping him

Mostly he just inconspicuously asks you what you think about someone or the suggestions they have made

But other times he makes you (one way or another) talk to the said person alone and turns out you're the perfect bait: beautiful, young, unavailable and on top of that, unavailable because you're married to the man they envy or see as their rival

Everything that makes proud, egotistical businessmen going.

Most of the time it's enough to pretend to be impressed and quote Plato

And that's the story of why Billy sometimes makes humorous allusions to you being an undercover agent

"It's 3am, Billy, where are you going?"

"Is this an interrogation, agent Russo? Would you like me handcuffed?"

Billy always chooses his tie according to what you're wearing.

Most of the time when you're going somewhere alone, Billy sends one of his most trusted men with you. It's a compromise you have settled for.

And they're the only ones allowed (literally) to address you by your name

Once it has nearly ended in a disaster when someone informed Billy that the man, you were currently with while running some errands, was a rat

After that, it was difficult to convince him to let you out of his eyesight for a few weeks

When it comes to having lunch with your family and friends, you had to slowly explain to Billy how weird and suspicious it would be if you showed up with some random man and claimed it was your bodyguard or a butler or anything.

Because, honestly, what goody-two-shoes businessman sends his wife off with a bodyguard? Everyone would just think you're cheating on your hard-working, veteran husband while spending his money.

(Which did become a rumor at some point among people you used to know)

The compromise was that the said man just sits a few tables away and the waiter regularly updates him on what's going on

Speaking of restaurants: you can't just eat in any restaurant. Many people intertwined with shady businesses have died during meals of very natural causes like arsenic poisoning.

So the only places you eat at are within Billy's part of the city

Which, in turn, sometimes requires you to make up lies on the spot, like when random people on the street tell you good morning or bow their heads slightly

"Oh, they're just Billy's work friends."

If "work friends" could mean "criminals and thugs employed as his workforce"

As family and friends are, sometimes they want to come over and that's when Billy and you have to play Easter egg haunt except it's not Easter and the eggs are guns.

It's one of Billy's habits that he has quite a few hidden around the house so you have to either find them and hide them somewhere else or "babyproof" them, so your guests can't find them, like jamming the drawers

"Okay, that should be all of them."

"I think I might have one in my pants. You sure you don't wanna check, sweetheart?"

Speaking of guns, he definitely made you carry one but something really small like for 2-3 rounds. He'd rather you stay away from all things sharp and explosive but he also knows that the world he sucked you into is grim and ruthless

Truthfully, both of you didn't want that but both of you knew that it was a necessary prevention

And it sometimes requires a really inventive thought and good acting to not make it known to your blissfully unaware friends and family

You have definitely made Billy watch The Godfather and ask him for a "professional" opinion. His side-eye was quite telling.

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@restingbitchsblog @intothesoul

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[sylvain-writes]

Cold Pizza (Raphael x Gender Neutral Reader)

Rated: T Gender Neutral Reader, power outage, banter, light angst and fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers, Raph can cook <5k words

*

Snow falls gently upon the city outside your window, and it should be calm. You should want to listen to soft jazz or something. You should be sipping tea and enjoying the sight. But instead you're stifling a laugh at the sound of Raphael swearing behind you as he stubs his toe in the dark.

"Shit. Why the hell is that in the middle of the floor?"

"It's a coffee table, Raph. It's in front of the couch same as always." You haven't redecorated the apartment in months, but it's only Raph's second visit. You can't really blame him for not knowing the layout of the place by heart. But he's a ninja, isn't he? Shouldn't he be better at finding his way through the shadows?

The table scrapes against the hardwood floor as he drags it back into place and you snicker into the sleeve of your long-sleeve tee. The building only lost power ten minutes ago but your hands are already getting cold.

The crinkle of the last bag of potato chips gets louder as Raphael comes up behind you. "Don woulda neva let this happen."

"Really?" You huff. "Donatello wouldn't have let the blizzard get so bad that it took down the power lines?"

"Well, he woulda made sure the generator was workin', but no. That's not what I'm talkin' about." He crunched and munched in your ear.

As payback for the purposefully annoying chew, you snagged a chip out of his hand and gnashed your teeth over it hard. Crumbs fell to the ground and he snarled, shaking his head.

"You heathen. This is the last of the food! Your cupboards are bare."

"My cupboards? Ok, grandma..." You don't hide your snicker this time. "There's canned soup and, like, other stuff in the pantry, dude. Don't get your panties in a twist."

"We can't turn on the stove if there's no power, genius."

"It's a gas oven, genius."

"I don't know what difference that makes, Einstein."

"It means all I need is a lighter and I can ignite the gas, Einstein."

"Well, you don't smoke, Edison."

"Valid. But I do have a lighter. It's in a drawer somewhere."

It does take another ten minutes to actually find the lighter, in your nightstand, having been tossed there after you used it to light some candles in your room forever ago. And even after you find it, you set a pot of water to boil only to have Raphael complain that he can't find the pasta you were sure was in the pantry.

"Well, what is in there?" you ask as you light a few more candles around the kitchen.

Raphael places a jar of tomato sauce on the counter, but his tone remains unimpressed. "Flour and shit."

"That's fucking gross."

"You know what I mean." Raphael opened the cabinet door wide. "Flour, sugar, salt... I don't know. Like, a thousand different jars of seasonings you've probably never used ever."

"How do you know I've never used them?"

"Probably because they've all got their plastic seals on?"

"Right. I don't really cook that much."

Raphael gestures to the otherwise empty shelves. "I'm shocked."

"Well..." You pass the jar of tomato sauce you were going to use for the pasta you actually don't have from one hand to the other as you think. "There's gotta be something. Grab the cereal, at least."

The Honey Nut Cheerios barely have a bowl left. It's hard to ignore it when Raphael's stomach growls.

"Ok, ok. Maybe we should order take out?" But as you form the question, you notice something more than hunger and frustration in the way Raphael wraps his arms around himself. "You feeling alright?"

"Sure." Raphael shrugs, and though you have to squint in the evening's fading light, you think he looks a little paler than usual.

"Raph?"

He's the master of compartmentalizing and hiding his feelings -- until they bubble over into a fiery mess -- but he's utter crap at suppressing the shiver that runs through his arms while you're staring.

"Dude… you're sick or something."

"I'm not," Raph says, relaxing his arms from around his body to his sides, but his shoulders remain tense. His arms stay tucked tight against his sides. "I'm fine. There's nothin' to say. We're stuck here. Right?"

"Call Donnie."

"He can't… he can't come out in this weather."

"The weather?" The winds had died down. And yeah, the drifts were pretty high in some parts of the city, but it was dark enough that- "Are you too cold?"

Raphael shrugs.

You move closer to him, reaching out, and his arm under your hand feels cold to the touch. "Raph…"

He leans into your touch a second longer than he wants to, chasing the heat as you pull your hand away. You're close friends, but you don't go around holding onto each other or anything. The way he chases the warmth of your hand, the small needy sound in his throat, breaks you inside.

"It’s why we got generators at the lair. They mostly run on street power Donnie got hooked up, but… don't do so well in the cold, y'know?"

"Shit. I'm sorry." You turn on another burner and fill another pot of water. "Can you, uh, get in touch with D? I know there's a way to get the oven going but I, er, don't wanna blow up the apartment in the process."

Raph nods and you notice another shiver. He hunches in on himself as he thumbs out a text to his brother.

While he's occupied, you rush over to the living room and grab a blanket from the couch. You're not sure he wants to admit just how cold he is, so you don't wrap it around his shoulders yourself, but you place it on the counter with purpose and head into the bedroom to find a heavier sweater for yourself. And some socks. You definitely need to double up your socks. And shit, maybe you should offer Raph some socks too.

But what the hell socks do you have that'll fit him?

You grab the comforter from your bed and hug a pair of pillows to your chest. The way to the livingroom causes you to stumble and you know you're not looking the cutest you've ever looked when you crash into the couch with your load, but you manage to grunt like a buffoon when you bounce off the couch cushions and land hard on the floor.

"Graceful." Raphael says from the kitchen counter. He saunters over, wrapped up in the blanket, wearing it like a shawl and looking ever so much like a reptilian version of the big bad wolf pretending to be grandma.

"My, what big eyes you have." You kid, and you smirk, but color blooms high on Raphs cheeks and you watch him duck his head just a bit as he tries not to break your gaze.

"They um… they're the same as always , y'know?"

From there on the floor, you look up at him and wonder when he became so shy. He's been your best friend for ages. He's muscles and bravado. He's a ninja skill set and a heart of gold. He's fire and sugar and the kind of spicy that'll catch you on fire if you stay too close, but you always want to be close to him and you know one day you're going to get burned. It's why you don't touch. It's why you point to the blankets and pillows on the couch and you back away from the pile so he can get them himself.

You know if you get too close. If you let yourself linger near him, you'll stay too long. You'll get burned. What's between you simmers when you keep your distance. That's good. That's better. You don't want him to push you away, so it's better to keep some distance. He hasn't pulled you closer, so you think you're doing the right thing. If you were reading this wrong, there would have been some clue. Someone would have said something. Raph would have said something. He's not one to mince words about what he wants.

He's very much the guy who tells you what he wants when he wants it.

"Don says we can light the pilot and have the gas oven heat the room, but you're gonna have to do it because my hands are too big."

"Know what they say about a man with big hands?"

Raphael crosses his arms over his chest, unamused. "Woulda lit the damn thing myself if my hands were smaller so it don't really matter what people say about big hands. At the moment these big hands are useless."

"Geez, Raph," you scoot around him to get at the oven. "You're not useless. Chrissake."

The oven lights and you crank it up to 500°F. "We can leave the door open a crack and let it warm the room."

"Or we can make pizza."

"Sure. Yeah." You say, dripping with sarcasm. "We could totally learn how to make pizza in the dark with no electricity or ingredients."

"We don't got no ingredients." Exasperated, Raphael throws off the blanket and gestures toward the pantry. "You got spices. Sauce. Flour."

"What about cheese?" Your hands are on your hips and your toe is tapping because you just know he's going to come after your snacks.

"I saw like 7000 Polly-O string cheese things in your crisper drawer-"

"Don't touch my string cheese!" He wouldn't dare.

"We can grate it down for-"

"You monster!"

Raphael is more snarl than laugh when he crows, "You're being ridiculous! I'm making pizza. Are you in?" His gaze narrows and you think he may be serious about tossing you out of the kitchen. "Or are you just in my way?"

As it's the only warm room in the apartment, you're ready to make all the sacrifices necessary to keep your ass in the kitchen.

Raphael and his big hands leave you at a loss as he uses his thick fingers to ever so delicately arrange his phone against the tomato sauce jar. “Sit still ya lil fucker.” With each adjustment he makes, the phone slides down the counter, unwilling to stand in place so that he can read the recipe without getting his phone dirty with sticky doughy hands.

You shouldn’t just stand there watching with a grin, but you really can’t help it. It’s adorable. You really think you may be falling in love with him just watching the way he shifts the phone inch by inch. Then when he finally has the phone in place, he throws his hands up in the air, victory writ large upon his features. His smile is open and wide and it’s such a stark contrast to see him now, his body flooded with joy and warmth as opposed to when he was near frozen, that you can’t help but smile back. You’re a little thrown by just how charming that smile can be. You lock eyes and get stuck. He’s so handsome. He’s so true to himself. He’s just real and raw and he doesn’t care that this is only a tiny victory of some phone vs man vs counter slip ridiculousness. He’s excited and he lets you join him in this celebration because it’s fun and it doesn’t have to mean anything more than fun.

You shake your head as you grab the flour from the pantry and place it on the counter. “One small step for a man, one giant leap toward making a pizza. We actually need to get some ingredients in a bowl, methinks.”

Raphael takes the flour and tears the never opened bag open from the top. He’s obviously never done it before. Flour ends up everywhere and you don’t even bother to tell him that he could have easily unfolded the flour bag and made far less mess.

As you watch his flour dusted face reemerge from the plume of flour, you’re actually glad you didn’t mention it. Or else you wouldn’t have had the chance to see him look so surprised. To surprise a ninja, now that had to be some kind of feat.

Raphael’s green eyes blink at you, stark contrast green from the white floured face around them. His mask is caked in the stuff. You laugh as you reach forward. “May I?”

He hasn’t really said yes, but he’s spoken no objection either, so you slide the mask over his head and dust it off before laying it on the counter.

Seeing him without his mask is always a pleasure. One of the small pleasures you don’t mention out loud. Like standing too close, it runs the risk of being burned. Something Raphael could take away if you make too big a deal of it. So, you try not to stare, while simultaneously trying to memorize every bump and slope of his features.

“You’re a real mess,” you say, wiping Raph’s cheek with a clean hand. “How much of this flour are we gonna lose before you whip up dinner, huh?”

Raphael has been staring at you. He hasn’t even been paying attention to your words. In fact, he’s not sure you’re speaking. Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion because your hands are reaching toward him for the second and third time today and that never happens. That never happens and Raph knows for sure because he pays attention to that sort of thing. He notices when you come close because he waits for it. He wishes for it. He clocks each step you take toward him and bites back a pout each time you pull away.

When your hands reach for his mask, he doesn’t know what to say, so he stays still. And you unmask him. And the world doesn’t stop turning, but it sure feels like all of the air has been sucked from the room. But you’re smiling, so he knows nothing bad has happened.

You’re smiling so the world is still spinning.

His mask is in your hands and flour is falling to the floor like weightless raindrops and he can almost make out your laughter past the sound of his own thoughts. There’s nothing Raphael loves more than his time with you. The sound of your voice. The curve of your smile. The barely visible sunburst of silver under the pigment of your iris.

He shouldn’t know about that design. He shouldn’t pay such close attention to your eyes that it would be plastered in his memory. But he has. He does. He watches you when you’re not paying attention. When you’re playing around with his brothers or working at your computer. He watches the light reflect off your eyes. He could map the lines of your irises. And that’s probably weird. He’s no artist. He knows that. He can’t do flowery words or paint a picture. But he has a mind like a steel trap. He remembers everything about you.

So, when you tease him about making dinner, he knows you’re probably thinking about your own lack of culinary experience. You’re worried about screwing things up and probably relieved that Raphael is a little clumsy himself.

Raph uses this to his advantage, to make things a little easier for you. With a kind smile, he points to the cabinets. “I need a mixing bowl and some measuring cups. Oil, salt, and sugar. And yeast. We need yeast.”

“Yeah. OK. Like I have fucking yeast up in this bitch.”

Raphael hums and turns. He’s pretty sure he saw something that looked suspiciously like yeast in the cabinet. And there, on the row with all of the other unused herbs and spices, was a jar of the stuff. “You really suck at this.”

You raise an eyebrow in surprise. “Don’t I know it.” There’s no way to argue around it.

Taking orders from Raphael isn’t a turn on or anything. You’re not getting goosebumps from his praise or hanging on his every word like it’s the air that you breathe. But he’s standing close and the way his breath is warmer than the air around you makes your blood feel like it’s thrumming through your veins a little more quickly tonight than it was just minutes ago.

Standing in front of the open oven is hot work. You don’t know much about dough, but you’ve watched enough Great British Bake Off to know this rise is going to happen fast in the hot kitchen.

“We should close the oven door,” you suggest. “Get the inside temperature right and let the dough do it’s thing before we shape it and sauce it up and stuff.”

“Wow, that’s a lotta we talk. You sure you’re up to the task? Thought you were taking more of a supervisory role, here.”

“I grated the cheese, didn’t I?”

“You made more wine than cheese, sweetheart.”

“Yes, well, it was my favorite snack.”

“It’s sacrifice will be worth it.”

The pizzas only took about ten minutes in the oven before the dough was crispy, the cheese not quite burned, and the sauce was bubbly hot. Raphael moved them onto the bare countertop to cool. “So, we keepin’ the oven on or?”

“Of course we can.” You glance at the oven and then at the pile of blankets and pillows in the living room. “Can’t we?”

“I could ask Don? Seems like the power could be out all night. Not sure we should leave the oven on indefinitely.”

“Well… we’ll figure that out after we eat, I guess.”

Eating was weird. You sat close, sharing the light of a candle to make sure you weren’t dripping sauce all over yourselves. Your elbows nudged each other as you moved and you had to stop yourself from shifting further away each time. It would look suspicious. You weren’t close because you wanted to be, because you desired to be as close to Raphael as physically possible without fear of your feelings being known… you were sitting elbow to elbow with him now because you needed to. He wasn’t going to read anything into it.

“You have sauce on your chin.”

“I what?”

“Sauce,” Raphael said, quieter than you expect from him. Perhaps he worries about shouting in your face. Things do seem louder in the dark. So then why does he sound like he’s whispering?

“Oh. Yeah. The sauce is good, Raph. You, uh, know your way around that spice rack.”

“Nah, I mean…” Raphael shakes his head good naturedly and sighs before lifting his thumb to your chin. He takes your face in his hand as he drags his thumb over your chin, wiping your skin clean with a smooth drag of his thumb.

“Raph?” You suck in a breath and you catch his gaze. He’s squinting at you as you struggle to make sense of his sudden closeness.

When he pulls away, you watch as he wipes his hand on his shorts. “You had sauce. Ya know? It was uh, just there.”

“Oh!” You wipe at the spot Raph has already cleaned, your cheeks and ears growing hot. “I… thanks.”

“Yeah, no prob.” Raphael clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck. He’s still not wearing his mask, so each twitch of his eyes is out in the open. But you wonder if it’s a trick of the light, him looking embarrassed and unsure.

“The blankets and stuff. I was gonna say we should tuck under them. I don’t know about you, but that oven’s been off for a minute and I’m already feeling like-”

“The blankets are good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Raph says, swallowing hard. “The cold makes me a little tired, you know?”

You shrug. You suppose it makes sense. You feel a little tired yourself. “You could sleep. Do you mind if I share the couch with you? That’s my stuff from my room.”

“No. I mean, yeah. I mean. I don’t mind sharin’. Donatello says humans run hot?”

“Compared to you?” You know you probably shouldn’t joke about something like this when Raphael was vulnerable, but you always joke about everything. To not joke about this feels like it would make things worse, make them mean more, give the vulnerability more weight than if you treat it the same as everything else. “Yeah. I guess. We’re warm-blooded.” It feels weird to refer to humans as we and the turtles as they. You rarely think of yourself as different from them. You haven’t thought of them as other than the guys for so long. “It’s um…”

“Yeah, so, like sharing would be fine. It’s cool.”

“You wanna use my body, Raph? That what this is about? You tryin’ to steal my heat? My human fire?”

“Are you kidding?”

“About mi fuego humano?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Baby you can light my fire.”

“I don’t even know you.”

“You wanna sleep with a stranger! For shame!”

“Don’t slut shame me. I never slut shame you.”

“Yeah ok, sure, dude.”

“What? I don’t.”

“Uh, you crap on every guy I’ve ever been out with.”

“No, I don’t. No I haven’t.”

Suddenly all the joking isn’t fun. Because if Raphael can’t see how hard you’ve tried to get over him. How hard you’ve tried to move past your feelings for him, feelings that he so very clearly does not reciprocate, then you really don’t want to play this game anymore.

You stand up and move to the couch. You won’t deny him your body heat if that’s what he needs, but you don’t think you can carry on this conversation. By the time he gets to the blankets, they’ll be warm, you think. Then maybe you can have a minute to yourself.

Raphael follows you to the living room in quiet contemplation. “I hate the guys you date.”

“Great. They were real winners anyway so, thanks for running them off. Never did stand a chance with them.”

“They weren’t good enough for you.”

“Pfft.” He doesn’t get it. None of them were good enough, yeah. Because every guy you’ve ever talked to, ever listened to talk about their hobbies and dreams and hopes and family, every guy who has ever taken an interest in you, you’ve compared to Raphael. And every one of them has come up short.

“You know how good you are? Like, a good person. Not like 'tries to be good' or 'does the right thing' kinda good…”

“Gee thanks, big guy. I’m blushing.”

Raphael turns to face you on the couch, his back braced against the arm rest and honest to god shoves you with his bare foot. You can’t help but notice his toes are ice cold. “What I’m saying is you’re the 'real' good. A good heart. You do the wrong shit for the right reasons kinda good. You hurt because you care, yet you still care.”

You let Raph ramble because you don’t know what you’d say if you stopped him, if you acknowledge the things that he says. You let Raph ramble and you pull his ice cold foot into your lap under the blankets. You warm it in your hands. Maybe it should be gross. He’s been walking around the apartment since early this afternoon barefoot. But it’s just feet. Just skin. Just flesh and bone and it’s all so cold between your palms.

Raphael scoots down against the armrest, just a little so that his foot is resting comfortably in your lap. He turns away from you to look at an alert on his phone, all the while still talking about how good you were when you tried to help Leo with his attempt to try every flavor of Pringles that you could find at the gas station mini mart. It was a valiant attempt and Leo didn’t want to do it alone. You both ended up with pretty bad indigestion, but it was fun and Raphael had seemed extra happy to see Leo making a friend and being a total idiot with you.

“Donatello says the power should be up and running again sometime tonight. There was an update on the website or something.”

“They give updates on this shit?”

“I guess?”

Your hands move to Raphael’s other foot as you nod. “I don’t really like the guys I date either,” you admit aloud. “It’s not that I set out ready to dump them, it’s just that they don’t interest me. I try to get to know them, I try to let them get to know me. But it goes nowhere. I don’t get that feeling, you know?”

Raphael’s jaw tenses, but he doesn’t answer.

You think maybe he doesn’t know that feeling. Maybe he doesn’t feel romantic attraction the way you do. “Raph, have you ever-”

“I don’t like it.”

You nod, thinking you’ll get more out of him if you stay silent. But when he doesn’t elaborate, you realize you have to say something. “You don’t like…”

“All those guys goin’ out with ya. They don’t know ya. They don’t treat ya the way ya should be treated.”

“Really? How do they treat me?”

“Like… like… They don’t let ya let go. I see ya going off with them and you go quiet or you laugh too loud.”

“I’m too quiet. I’m too loud. Which is it, Raph?”

“You deserve somebody who lets ya have fun. You make jokes and goof off and sometimes yeah it’s cause you’re nervous but mostly it’s cause ya have funny shit goin’ on in ya head and ya wanna let me in on the joke.”

You nod. You really do think you’re the most hilarious person on the fucking planet. It’d be a shame to keep all the good stuff to yourself. Even so, you don’t share your thoughts with just anybody. Raphael is right, it’s him who you want to let in.

“If I took ya out, it’d be like tonight.”

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah.” You say thoughtfully, sarcastically, poking fun and rubbing at your chin not caring a whit that you just had Raphael’s feet in your hands. “Like tonight. You’d cut the power to the city so we could freeze our asses off, then set up a super romantic dinner where we eat by candlelight.”

“We’d be laughing. Teasin. I’d make you dinner and if you want fucking candles I’ll light you a fucking candle.”

“And I’d rub your feet to thank you for making me such a delicious dinner.”

“Yeah. I deserve some pampering.”

“What about me? I don’t deserve to be pampered?”

“I just made you a romantic dinner with candles and all that shit.”

“Hypothetically. Yet here I am, literally rubbing your feet.”

“So what do you want, you want a foot rub for you too? Huh? You want a little shoulder rub cause you worked so hard watching me work my ass off in the kitchen?”

You pinch his ankle surprised he can feel anything when it all feels like rock solid muscle. Instead of answering with words, you give him a wry grin and move around a bit under the blankets. You relax into his chest, lying your head over his heart and settling your body between his and the pillows. “You’re a real smartass.”

Beneath you, Raphael lies still.

“This OK?”

Raph shifts a bit, you feel his hands rise and fall. “I don’t really know what to do with my hands.”

You hum and nod your head against Raphael’s chest. You reach blindly for Raph’s arms, one by one, and wrap them over your back. “Don’t have to do anything.”

Raphael relaxes a little at the news. He ducks his head low and you think you can feel him breathe you in. He rests his cheek on the top of your head before asking, “This that body heat thing?”

You nuzzle his chest, allowing yourself to slip under his arm a bit. Better position for falling asleep. “Yeah,” you say. “Sure.”

Raphael squeezes his arms around you, but he doesn’t say anything. You have to ask or you won’t be sure. Even if it means getting burned. Even if it means you’ve put too much meaning into things and you’re going to be pushed away, you have to know.

“This is more than a body heat thing. For me.” You bury your face in his chest as you wait for his response. At least, for a few seconds longer, you can pretend his heart is beating for you.

“When I take you on a proper date, there’s gonna be tables and napkins. And maybe something fancy to drink...”

“And then-”

“This. And then, this.”

“I like this.”

“Me too.”

#Raphael TMNT #Raphael x gender neutral reader #raphael #gender neutral reader #this was left in my drafts for a long while #i don't think i've posted it #enjoy it's got some cute shit in there especially toward the end #my writing

[glamrockmonarch]

Brian wouldn't be amused by the way I start my sentences...but oh well!

So I was browsing as one does first thing in the morning...and I saw this beauty of a post. Which was so short and precise, straight to the point...everything I am not. Naturally, I thought to myself "thats so cute!" And then I got hit by another post by someone else (I cannot find it, my app reloaded AHHH! TUMBLR MOBILE APP HELL!) where I saw some soft pictures of Joe with children...So...

I present to you:

Baby Fever: an AU

Aka a side project for this fine blog to forever be too much for me.

It's a series where I will just let out some steam from my soft soft heart in the form of writing about Daddy!Ben, Daddy!Gwil, Daddy!Rami, Daddy!Joe, and why the fuck not: Mama!Lucy. All in the same AU for my personal enjoyment!

And we're starting with Joe. Enjoy!

Second Time Around

Summary: You and Joe have a complex relationship, friends to lovers? Ah, yes? Now married for four years with a two year old boy to call your own, things lately have been busy for Joe, and you have put a hold on baby no. 2...Or have you?

"Joe?" You somehow manage to open the door while carrying the bag full of groceries.

The day has been menacing with rain since early in the morning and you knew you had very little time to get around your chores before it started pouring. You also had a busy night ahead of you, with the baseball on tonight, you know your husband will definitely want to cuddle with you and watch the game. Hence the beer and frozen pizza still in your car.

"Yes?" You heard two voices, different in their entirety coming from the hall.

Looking up, you felt a little helpless; struggling to keep the bag in your hands as you tried to make your way into the open kitchen space. Peaceful as ever Joe came into view in one of his sweatpants and a shirt, your beautiful little boy perched up on his hip giggling at Joe's beard that he kept playfully rubbing against his son's soft cheek and nose.

"Dada!" He wiggled in his arms.

"Obviously the one that goes to the gym and allegedly carried 70 pounds on Monday!" You huffed on your way past them.

You were just so drained from all energy you really needed Joe's help.

Joe gave baby Joey a look and rushed to say hello to you, as he had been busy that morning and didn't get to spend much time with you other than breakfast and that short moment when you kissed his lips before her drove Joe to daycare so you could get a head start on everything.

"Here, I'll get those," Joe said as he handed you Joe and let you take a breath.

You enjoyed those little moments when everything fit in so well. Joe was your best friend before you started going out romantically. You knew he had his history with other women, and he was a few years older than you...but you came to see him as something else. Joe seemed to realise you were all he ever needed and wanted at about the same time; it was a matter of weeks before you were official, after years of friendship but anyway: you moved quite fast! And it never felt like it was happening that fast at all, nor that you needed to catch to something. It was your own pace and it worked perfectly for you.

Now you ask Joey about his day and smile at him as he goes on and on about what he did at the day care today and what fun he had with Dada after he picked him up.

"Oh, you got invited to a party?" You opened your eyes wide.

Joey giggled and nodded while Joe came in through the door, kicking it closed behind him as he handled every remaining bag. Kudos to him: he didn't drop a thing.

Joe gave his son a smile and turned to you, acting as if he had been smelling around.

"I think we have a visit from Stinky, babe."

Joe pinched his nose once he put everything down on the counter.

You giggled and looked at Joey, who did need a shower but still acted as he was wondering who Joe could be talking about.

"I'll get started," you nodded up at the ceiling and Joe got it, starting to put the groceries in place. "Don't be late, captain!"

You took your son upstairs and ran the bath for him, making sure you had all his toys. After you tied your hair up and you got Joey undressed to put in the bath which he enjoyed very much.

"Mammy, do the thing with the shampoo!" He jumped around in the tub.

It was as if that was Joe's cue, he walked in then and made his way to the two of you.

"Alright, little man...that's Daddy's gig!"

You took a step back and let Joe do his thing, fooling around with Joey during bath time, not that you didn't join in...

And in fact it was a fun part of your day, laughing with your two favourite men in the world as Joey giggled with the towel wrapped around his little body.

It was safe to say that Joey was out as soon as you got him dressed in his pjs, this was maybe one of those moments that were simply yours regardless of Joe being home or not: your baby will always prefer being safely wrapped in your arms as he doses off to sleep. And that's exactly what he did while Joe read a bedtime story to him, which your little one didn't pay much attention to.

Finally, you sat with Joe downstairs in the living room wearing your comfy sweats and a tank top, sighing and laying your head on his shoulder you got around to watching the game. Joe wrapped his arm around you and held you, he could tell there had been something on your mind for the past couple of days but he knew better than to push you onto talking: you would talk to him when you were ready and that was more than okay.

"Joe?" You finally let out.

"Yes, YN?"

Joe played it cool because he didn't want to sound too eager to listen but he was curious and he was starting to get concerned.

"I'm pregnant."

The game was still on when you blurted the words out, regardless, Joe straightened up and turned to you. You sat up right as well, turning to him.

"You...what?"

Joe seemed to go pale, he knew you didn't want to have a baby at the moment, he was working more and he would be away from home for a while that year. You talked about it and agreed you would wait till next year...and yet: here you were sitting next to him looking some kind if way.

Joe examined your expression for a second and he knew what he was seeing. You were not scared, you couldn't be! You've done this before. And you were not mad either, a baby would never be a reason to make you mad... You were worried. You had every right to be, because you knew the struggles of pregnancy and you knew how hard and how easy some things had been even with Joe by your side so knowing now that you would be doing most of the journey without him and with Joey to care for was placing questions and worries in your mind.

"The doctor told me on Wednesday." You explained, "7 weeks."

Joe opened his mouth in astonishment, he didn't expect this news at all, it had only been a few weeks since you switched from the injections to the pill. He expected something else like you wanting to tag along for the five month shoot he was going on in July. He covered his mouth with his hand and then reached out to hold you, his arms wrapped tight and secure around your sensitive frame.

"Babe, that's wonderful!"

Joe kissed the top of your head to sooth you, he was already starting to feel his heart swell with love for your little baby.

"Yeah..." You mumbled on his shoulder and held on to him for what he felt was the longest he held you ever. "But I'm worried you'll miss most of this." You pulled away and put your hand on your still very normal not-pregnant-looking belly.

Joe gave you a side smile and brought his hand on top of yours, his thumb caressing your knuckles.

"YN, I'll find a way. Promise."

You looked into each other's eyes and although you didn't want to, you let out some tears. Which Joe quickly wiped away, kissing your cheeks he grabbed you and held you closer to him so you were almost completely laying on top of him with your head on his chest.

"You looked so pretty in those maternity panties...can't wait till they come back out!"

Strangely enough, Joe really did enjoy touching and holding you when you were pregnant the first time. He would always hold your hand at least, but mostly he loved to spoon you and run his hands all over your baby bumb all the way till the end of your pregnancy. He wasn't going to lie, he also quite enjoyed having sex with you during that time, it seemed something less kinky and more intimate than usual.

"Joe..." he made you giggle, which was his goal.

"Wait, does this mean I get to grow a dadstache?"

"Joe-no." You put your hand on his chest.

"Joe, ah-yes!"

Baby Fever Masterlist《《

#a fic nobody aaked for #joe mazzello fluff #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello #baby fever au

[pbandjesse]

Im having a sleepy day. But i have the heat on and im on my flannel pjs and im drinking a milkshake out of my cactus cup and things are good.

Since it was the day after an overnight it's a 10 hour work day and a day off all in one. So tha2gs pretty nice. And i did sleep okay last night. I was just really tired so that helped. I stayed up and talked to Jordan for a bit but it was raining and cold and i was looking forwaed to getting some rest.

I keep losing my new chapstick. Last night somehow misplaced it and I spent almost a half an hour looking for it. I got in change so I thought maybe I dropped it there. I was in and out of the ship and Museum and I was everywhere. I couldn't find it. I eventually found it in the goat Locker where the lost and found is. Because I taken a hoodie that was in there. And then the box of Lost and Found stuff fell on top of me so it must have knocked my Chapstick under the ground at some point while I was in there cleaning it up. I was just glad to find it again.

It was a very cold last night. I was okay and my sleeping bag and extra flannelly blanket. But I still got woken up a few times because I was Tangled or my sock fell off. When I woke up at 2 a.m. to use the bathroom somebody's phone was going off and just making all this noise. So I had to go and find the person. And I ended up just pulling their phone out of their sweatshirt pocket that was hanging up on the wall and turning the phone off. And then at some point there was a big crash. It sounds like it came from above us and no one came down to see what was going on or tell us something that happened so Jordan.

I felt okay in the morning when my alarm went off. I went and got washed and fix myself up. I mostly just court all the clothes I brought so still very cold. And then I went to make the breakfast and Jordan went to wake everybody up. It was an okay morning. Cold still. Not as rainy. I did the gun drill and had the kids run the actual program themselves. Calling the commands and stuff. It's a one little girl was so small and have the softest voice. It was a very funny seeing her do all the commands. But she did a really good job. We're under the gun drilled 5 or 6 times and they got really fast by then. It was fun watching them do it. The mom was dropped one of the employment in the harbor but she didn't so it was all good.

Jordan to the firing. We had a misfire for the first one again probably just because of water in the barrel. And then I finish cleaning up. And everybody went home. Me and Jordan were there until about 9:30 finishing paperwork and helping Frank clean. It was a fine day. I somehow lost my Chapstick again. But I didn't end up finding it was all the way down on the ship. While I was walking around the ship I was looking for trash and just making sure everything was away and I was in the hold and I notice that there is a big piece of wood on the ribs. That I don't remember being there. I'm staring at it for a while and I'm like could that be what made the sound last night? And I just couldn't figure out if I remember it being there. But I decided I would just let Jordan know.

I go upstairs and I tell Jordan hey like I don't know did you hear that bang and he thought maybe it was the sign that's on the top deck which sometimes does get knocked over which make the sound. But he said he would go look. He was like that was not there. So I went down and take pictures of it which is what you see above. And we sent them to Amy and to the site manager and they were like well that's not good so yeah a big piece of consolation fell down last night. No idea what they'll do about that.

We headed back over to take me to drop everything off. During help me finish my quiz that I had to fix. And then I bite home. I looked crazy because I had my blanket wrapped around me. Because my jacket wasn't warm enough to keep the rain out. But I got home and I wasn't too Frozen or wet. I got a shower and I made an egg sandwich. And I got into bed. James had gone to go get his bike fixed but he was going to come see me right afterwards. And he got here around noon.

I have been home for over an hour at that point but I just wasn't able to fall asleep. I think because I knew he was coming and my brain was just like got to stay awake. Can't waste the day. Because I knew he had to go to an overnight at 4. So we weren't getting a lot of time today and tomorrow is going to be very similar. But he came and we laid in bed and talked. It was really nice to see him. I had a weird moment where I was so delirious and he didn't look like himself for a second. And it kind of threw me off. But it was really nice being with him. And eventually I was able to fall asleep.

We got out of bed around 2 and went to work at my studio. It's easier to keep that room warm in the daytime when I need to be doing work rather than sit in the living room. My bedroom is okay to heat but the living room is a little hard with having the big hole in the ground to leading to the basement. So we work down there and I work on necklaces while he took photographs of pieces that are going up on the app see. I worked on the fantasy hockey boys drawing. He helped me figure out which ones I needed to change. And it was fun looking at the actual photos with him compared to my interpretations. I got a big kick out of that. He says he's going to share it with the guys he's playing the league with. So I'm excited to hear that feedback as well. It's such a silly little project but I'm really enjoying doing it. I like thinking my pencil drawings. But I don't usually have much inspiration for drawing so having a solid project was nice.

James left here around 3 so he can get something to eat and I haven't up ordering take-out that I regretted. I mean it was fine I just don't really want to eat as much fried food as I have been. So I'm going to make an effort to not eat out as much this week or at least not fried things. Like soup and stuff will be okay, salads. But the last two things I've gotten eating out I felt bad about. I did get a big enough Pizza that I can have two more meals out of it so I don't feel as bad about how much it cost but I still am trying to not eat as much greasy food. Because she's making me feel bad. I'm going to go to the grocery store in the morning and get eggs and cheese. I'll probably try to get some like quick races as well and maybe some soup so I won't have to buy things outside of my apartment.

I spent basically the rest of the night in my studio. I worked on art for a while. And I painted a little. I cuddled with sweet pea a lot and I started reading. It was like the first day since what feels like the spring that I've had the brain power or attention span to actually read. So that was nice. I really hope that I can get that back because while I had a great summer it's been a little hard that I haven't been actually reading. Cuz I love reading. But yeah it was just a nice night and my studio. I came up here about an hour ago and I've been watching videos and I made a milkshake. I think I'm going to do my eyebrows and get ready for bed. Tomorrow I want to wake up early so I can go to the store and then come back here. James is going to come back here after his over night. And if all goes according to plan we're going to carve our pumpkins finally. Because Halloween is in two days 3 days? We really need to get that. It's nice having pumpkins around but I would really like to carve them. But I'm just hoping for a nice day with my favorite boy. And hopefully I won't be cold and I can be comfortable and make fun things and it will be a good day. I hope you all have a good night tonight. Sleep well. Stay warm. Have fun.

#ootd #weirddog #cat #ship #museum #satuday #day off