Maps I want Caleb to cook for me and baby me.
I want him so bad
Like yes please sir. ITS A NEED.
Aaaaa I had so much fun with this. Thank you anon 🥹🌸
Fluff, cooking and just pure comfort incoming, gn!reader
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Caleb cooking for you is kinda dangerous because it feels less like dinner and more like being loved within an inch of your life.
He starts—rolling up his sleeves, apron tied sloppy, wooden spoon in his hand. Hums while he chops, keeps glancing back at you on the counter like you have the recipe behind your irises.
Then it gets so soft. He pulls you in behind him while he’s chopping, your arms tucked around his middle, his back warm and solid against your chest. He makes you taste everything—dips the spoon, blows on it, and holds it out. “C’mon, pips. Aaaahn.”
Yes. He makes airplane noises. And yes, he asks for landing permission like the absolute menace he is: “Tower control, permission to land in hangar? Over.”
Every reaction you give him—eyes going wide, lips smacking, a surprised hum—he meeeelts. Watches your face like you’re the michelin inspector of his heart. If you smile, he grins. If you giggle, he laughs too, chest warm, eyes crinkled. If you close your eyes to savor it, he just… stares. Like he can’t believe you’re his.
He wipes a bit of sauce from your lip with his thumb, and instead of cleaning it on a towel—yup, he sucks it off his thumb, watching you the whole time.
By the time the food’s on the table? He’s way too invested in you eating. Chin propped in his hand, smile so soft it hurts. He’s not even touching his own plate. Just spoon-feeding you little bites like “for the pilot’s favorite passenger” kissing your temple in between.
And when you’ve finished—when you’re warm and full and glowing—he just gathers you up, pulls you into his lap on the couch, arms locked around you like a vice. His voice is low, sheepish but happy:
“Pipsqueak… Promise me you’ll let me feed you forever. Wedding day, sleepy mornings, nursing home naps—please … Even when we’re cranky and old and can’t remember our own names…. When we’re embarrassed and everyone thinks we’re weird—especially then.”
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