The smell of freshly baked pumpkin muffins wafted through the apartment as Buck pulled them out of the oven. The tray settled on the stove with a small clunk. He tossed off the oven mitts before turning around to turn off the stove.

Buck loved cooking, that was no secret. He also loved baking. His favorite thing, however, was baking for you. Whether you requested pumpkin muffins or a lemon loaf, Buck would find a recipe and make his way into the kitchen.

At three and a half months pregnant, there wasn't much that you could stomach. The second trimester was not treating you kindly. Buck couldn't make many things without leaving you retching from the smell alone. So, Buck stuck with making whatever you craved. He didn't mind in the slightest. He was just happy to see the tired smile on your face whenever you walked into the kitchen.

"You're going to have to wait a few more minutes," he said, his hands yearning to touch your soft skin. "They just came out of the oven."

His strong arms wrapped around your waist in a gentle manner, one of his hands resting on your little bump.