#rocco x reader

Bob Floyd 

Bob calls you sweetheart, my love, honey, beautiful, so much that the Dagger Squad doesn’t know your name until you are formally introduced, though even after being Bob still refers to you almost exclusively by pet names in the company of others and when you are at home. He likes that it makes the two of you seem more connected as a couple. 

Bob loves it when you also use pet names with him; he responds to most things you call him. One thing you notice is that if you use handsome as a pet name, he gets this adorable blush on his cheeks and will do his best to avoid eye contact. 

Rhett Abbott

Rhett calls you sweetheart and darlin’. He started calling you that before you started dating, and he almost exclusively calls you those pet names. You had to confirm that he remembered what your name was - something he was highly offended by, even though you were joking. When he gets protective of you, especially when others take an interest in you and don’t realise how happy you are with your cowboy, he brings out the my girl. “Does my girl need anythin’ from the bar?” 

Rhett loves it when you call him my Cowboy; he likes that you have staked your claim over him and are letting everyone know. He loves it when you call him that, especially at one of his rides, when you are cheering him on or celebrating one of his wins. 

Rocco Gautheir 

Rocco calls you a range of pet names; this man has an arsenal up his sleeve and is willing to pull any of them out at the drop of a hat. Given that this man has the biggest potty mouth, he also brings up some of the filthiest pet names for when it's just the two of you. The one he keeps coming back to is sunshine, however, since you made him want to get his life together, and according to him, your smile is like sunshine. He also calls you my wife. When he is speaking to everyone else, he doesn’t care if you are officially his wife, you will be in the future, and anyone nearby needs to know that. 

Rocco loves it when you get possessive and call him my man; he loves that you are staking your claim to him. He gets annoyed when you call him too many pet names, preferring that you call him Rocco most of the time, but he will honestly let you call him whatever you want if it makes you happy. 

Miles Miller 

Miles calls you beautiful, sweetheart, honey, princess, angel, my world. He calls you anything that reminds him that you are his salvation from his sins. He believes that he is a sinner and needs to atone for all that he has done in the past. You are his entire world, his salvation in the darkness that his mind conjures up for him. When others are close to you, he adds my to any pet name, reminding himself that you chose him and letting whoever is vying for your attention that you are off limits. 

Like Bob, Miles loves it when you call him by his name. However, when you call him my love or my hero, he feels like he can keep you safe from the threats of the world that he has seen, whether in his drug-induced haze, time in war, or working for the Management of El Royale. It also helps that when you call him my love or my hero, he feels like you are seeing him as a man and not someone broken and buried by guilt. That you see him for who he is, not the things he has seen and done. 

Calvin Evans

Calvin is serious most of the time and sticks mainly to darling or sweetheart if he uses a pet name at all. He doesn’t think about it too much; he just says what feels natural in the moment. Most of the time, he will use a variation of your name when speaking to you. When he’s been overworking himself, stressed, or overly exhausted, he tends to lean more into calling you sweetheart. If anyone else tries to call you sweetheart or darling, especially given the time period, he is more than happy to remind the other person that you are his darling and not theirs. 

The apartment is quiet. Cozy. Outside, wind whips snow and ice against the walls of the building, but inside…

Inside, it’s warm and sweet. You two lay in bed, curled up together under the heavy quilt you’d found at some yard sale for half what it was really worth. Rocco’s fingers brush absently over your back, tracing patterns only he could describe. His heartbeat is steady under your ear.

“…What are you thinking about?” You ask after a little while. Your voice is soft, just above a whisper. Unwilling to disturb the peace of the room, but unable to let the question go unasked either.

Rocco is silent for so long that you almost think he hadn’t heard you at all. But then, finally, he shifts a little, chest rising and falling under your head as he sighs.

“Nothing, baby. Just… y’know. Stuff.”

You snort at that, raising your head a little to look at him, your chin propped up on his chest.

“You have to know how unconvincing that was. ‘Stuff’. You’re terrible.” You tease, digging your fingers into his side until he squirms away with a soft laugh. He catches your hand and gives you a mock stern look.

“Stop that, before you start something you can’t finish.” Rocco says, though his lips are twitching. But the moment quickly fades, and the light dims from his eyes again, even as he lets go of your hand to trace gentle fingers over your cheek.

It amazes you still, how gentle he can be. How sweet. Knowing who he is and what he does, the sort of people he’s involved with… anyone who saw him would assume he’s just another jailbird thug. Rocco is so much more than that. He’s surprise flowers brought home and handed over for no reason other than he thought you needed some. He’s spontaneous dance parties in the living room, dirty jokes that make you laugh until you can’t breathe, and holding firmly onto your hand while sprinting through the rain. He’s sensitive behind all that roughness, and you love it.

“You’ve been quiet all week, Rocco. I know when something’s up with you. So spill.”

It takes another couple of seconds for him to give in to your steady but imploring gaze. He sighs again, dropping his head back onto the pillow, looking up at the ceiling.

“…It’s just weird. Everything we’ve been doing. For the winter, I mean. Christmas and all that.” Rocco whispers. He’s very clearly uncomfortable with saying it out loud, and it makes your heart ache.

At times like these, you’ve learned it’s best to just listen and let him work things out himself. So you say nothing, waiting patiently for him to continue.

“You know what my family’s like. Or— well, what they *aren’t*. I mean, my Mom is a wreck. I love her, but God, baby, she’s a mess, and she always has been. Especially when- especially when I was a kid. She tried, but it sorta always ended up being just one of those tiny, sparkly tinsel trees, some socks, and maybe a couple Hot Wheels cars.” Rocco continues, his voice wavering slightly. He clears his throat and shifts under you, though his arm tightens around you to keep you from pulling away.

“And my dad… well. You know about him. So it’s just weird, doing all this. Having all this. An actual tree, with actual decorations, and actual wrapped presents under it. Fuck, you have no idea how hard it was to choose stuff for you. I want to get this right, baby. It’s our first Christmas in the same place. We did little things last year, but this… I want to get this right. You deserve that.”

You stare up at him in stunned silence. It takes a couple of seconds before you’re able to suck in a breath, blinking tears away. Your chest feels tight.

“Oh, Rocco… it’s already perfect, and it isn’t even Christmas yet. And you deserve a good Christmas, too. Don’t go making this all about me.” You rasp, huffing a soft laugh. You lean up to press a kiss to his lips, long and sweet — though, with Rocco involved, it quickly turns anything but.

By the time the two of you separate to breathe, your cheeks are flushed, and his hair is even more mussed than it had been before. You press another, gentler kiss to the tip of his nose, then his cheeks, and then his lips again.

“Nothing will go wrong. Everything is perfect, and will be perfect next week when Christmas finally arrives. The presents are wrapped and under the tree, stockings are hung on the stairs, and I’m already planning dinner. And dessert.” You add with a cheeky wink. He rolls his eyes. And then rolls the two of you as well, settling himself on top of you with a smug expression.

“I liked tonight’s dessert a lot. In fact, I think I want some more…”

“Be my girlfriend,” Rocco spoke before his brain could process what he had said. He took in the sight of you sitting on the wobbly, wooden barstool, folding the napkin in your lap as the neon lights of the bar danced across your skin. You were staring at him, obviously not expecting that response from him. 

“What?”

“Fuck. Be my girl”

“You’re serious?” You looked at Rocco, who looked just as bewildered as you did. Things with Rocco had been going well, even your disastrous first date had made you feel carefree. Plus, seeing Rocco so stressed because he was trying to impress you had made up for all that went wrong. “You told me before that you didn’t want anything serious. Why now?” 

“Because … fuck. Because you are the best fucking thing in my life right now, and I want you to stay that for as long as I can. So no matter the shit that is going on, I’m going to fucking make sure that happens. All I ask for is one fucking chance to prove it to you. Please, baby. Just one fucking chance.” 

You continued to stare at Rocco, who was tapping his hand against the bar repeatedly and chewing the inside of his cheek. Reaching your hand out, you placed yours over his and squeezed. His hand stilled under yours, twisting it so that he was now holding yours. 

“Okay, one chance, Rocco.” You say, voice quiet but firm. At your words, Rocco’s face lights up, and a large grin spreads across his face. He stands up and grabs your face between his hands. 

“God, you are fucking amazing, babe,” Rocco says, before tilting your head up and pressing his lips to yours, it’s messy and full of passion. You raise your hands so one has snaked around to the nape of his neck, where you twirl your fingers into the loose strands. The other hand loops into the front of his belt and tugs him closer to you, an action that causes him to groan into the kiss. 

As you slowly pull back, Rocco tries to steal another kiss, only for you to tug on his hair slightly to stop him. Seeing the sight of Rocco pouting when you deny him causes a small giggle to escape from your lips. 

“Let’s get out of here, Rocco. We can head back to mine?”

Since that night at the bar, Rocco had been keeping his word in making sure that you knew he was serious about the two of you. He had turned into a highly attentive boyfriend, making sure you felt cherished and supported, as well as being very vocal with how attractive he finds you.  

“Why are we watching this again?” Rocco groaned, sprawled out on your couch as you watched one of the romance movies on the Hallmark channel. “They all have the same fuckin’ plot.” 

“Shhhh. Doesn’t matter, you said I could pick the movie tonight.” You teased, curling into his side, 

“Yeah, guess I did.” Rocco leaned back, running his hand through his hair, but trying to hide the smile on his face at how content you looked. You were fully curled into his side, wearing one of the t-shirts he left here last week and a pair of pajama shorts, balancing a bowl of popcorn precariously between the two of you. Even as your attention was drawn to an actress he swore was in about 15 other movies you’d watched, explain why she was not attracted to the male lead, Rocco couldn’t help but feel content with the domesticity of his time with you. He looked around your apartment, one that was a lot nicer than his, so home dates were spent here.

Hung over the back of a chair was his leather jacket - the one that you would end up peeling off his body whenever he wears it - and near the door were a few of his pairs of shoes. Rocco thought of your bedroom, where at least half of his closet had merged with yours, and of all the items of his clothing that you had stolen. You had become the brightest thing in his life. You had become the most important thing to him; he had moved away from his life with Leftie and his guys - moving into a more stable career. 

“You okay, babe?” you asked, noting that Rocco had gone quiet. Normally, he would half-watch the movie with you, the other half of his attention was groping your chest while you paid attention to the movie. The fact that his hands were to himself was raising some concerns. 

“Just thinking” 

“That’s concerning.”

“Really?” Rocco placed his hand on your hips and lifted you onto his lap, the popcorn bowl falling onto the floor with a thud. You stared at him, adjusting so you were half lying on top of your boyfriend, noting the worry that was clear as day in his eyes. His hands squeezed your hips, and he looked clearly at your face. 

“Rocco,” your voice was soft, soothing, and as you said his name, Rocco’s grip loosened slightly, and the tension in his shoulders dropped. 

“I love you, you know that, right?” For the first time since that night at the bar, Rocco did not sound as confident as he normally did. He needed you to know that he loved you and while he knew that he was shit with his words, he hoped his actions had shown you that.

“I do, Rocco. I love you too.”

“I … I’m glad you agreed to be my girlfriend that night at the bar. Wasn’t planning on asking but I’m so glad I did.”

“Rocco, it was pretty obvious you hadn’t planned on that. You looked like a deer in the headlights.” You were giggling now, earning a faint chuckle from Rocco and feeling his hands trail under the hem of your shirt - he was less in his head now. “You’ve proven to me time and time again that you are a good boyfriend, you respect me, and show me how loved I am daily. I hope you know I love you?”

“Think you're an idiot for it, but yeah, I know. Even if you could do better, I’m a selfish asshole, and I’m going to be even more selfish.” Rocco rolled you over so he was now on top of you, with him nearly causing the two of you to fall onto the pile of popcorn on the floor. “Marry me. Be my wife. Let me be selfish and keep you as my girl, always.”

You stared at Rocco, looking into the blue eyes that were boring into your soul. There was no doubt in those eyes, just a steely confidence and the warmth you expected from your boyfriend. 

“Yes.” You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a kiss, feeling him smile against your lips as you did. “I’ll marry you, Rocco.” 

As Rocco went to kiss you again, he made a vow to himself that he was going to be the best fucking husband he could be. He would not end up like his parents - old, bitter, and a complete mess. Tomorrow, he would take you to his place and give you the ring that he had been hiding there. The thought of you wearing the ring and in a wedding dress, made him let out a whisper of “Fuck, I’m the luckiest fucker in the world.”

Because fat people have been seen as lazy, incompetent, less than, even though there a thousands of reasons as to why someone gains weight. It doesn't make someone unattractive for having extra rolls, bigger hips or bust. Usually if someone is uncomfortable around a fat person for no reason other than their size. It's internal fatphobia towards themselves, but they'll push that so far down that they'll make everyone else feel it instead.

White American yoga has been fueled disordered eating and racial appropriation. By having the yoga body, feeling above others because you're able to look a certain way. It was turned into something that it isn't, it's not about looking thin or copying someone else's culture. You don't feel as though you have a lot of room to speak on the matter. 

But it's important to educate yourself on these things so you don't send the wrong message. Though some people were going to come at you with every intention of belittling your practice. You don't know how many times you've told someone you own a yoga studio and they thought you were joking or flat out lying. Everyone else they've met is usually pretty heady about it, seemingly like they do it because it’s trendy or makes them look a certain way. It’s not always the thin straight white woman, but a lot of them called starving themselves, bulimia over-excerising, was all about and rooted in yoga. 

You hated when they went, “Why is it an inclusive studio, aren't all yoga studios for anyone who does yoga?” No. Just no. You can say something is for everyone when there are clear groups that don’t feel comfortable to show up because they don’t see anyone familiar. 

A lot of people of color, bigger people and disabled folks, don't feel comfortable in yoga studios because they don’t look like everyone else. How is anyone supposed to feel comfortable when everyone else around you is uncomfortable with your mere presence? You knew there was passive aggression from both sides of the wheel. You also knew that you grew up around racism and ableism, and if you don't look back and try to deconstruct your actions in the past, the offensive things that came out of an ignorant naive mouth. Now you wanted to make sure you never made anyone uncomfortable, you wanted to be a safe place for everyone, no matter the size, disability, color, culture or background. Or the ones who usually felt foreign in the average cookie cutter yoga studio. 

Yoga is all about redemption from your previous trauma and mistakes, you think it's about an acceptance and the willingness to change. There's an aspect of letting go then gaining a sense of natural control, or rather instinct. It's about listening to your body, feeling where your emotions might lie, using different chakra points to find the right poses. You wore crystals based off of the chakra that needed the most help, or whatever one you were attracted to. But usually whichever one you were drawn to, was the right one. You don’t push the whole crystal thing, but yoga poses go in sync with body chakra's. 

When you've spoken about it, it's usually in excitement because the poses are fun for you. Because you find a sense of peace that no drug, no person, or anything could offer you. It made you feel confident in your body after years of being taught you shouldn't be, that you should change. You tell everyone that they should do yoga, no matter who they are, because it's helped you so much mentally. It's helped you with your trauma, taking you out of the old memories, old feelings, so you could be right there in the moment. Letting you reflect on your past with a calmness that lets the change happen. But there was also a quick acceptance, a rigid yes that there was no other way to suit up other than doing it. 

Your studio had its lulls and highs, during the summer you had a larger influx of customers. Eventually you were able to hire some other employees, and had someone to control the social media account. You also got popular off of doing some live streams that got saved to a youtube account. There was no possible way you could've gotten to this point without your team and your best friend, Ali. She was there every step away, your first employee, and she's much more skilled with Instagram then you'll ever be. 

There was a contentness you found with your work, no longer dying for a job or feeling like you needed someone. Your whole life you'd been a hopeless romantic in the worst ways. Now you were a hopeless romantic without a focus on your love life. That was until Rocco turned up and flipped your world on its axis.

He was an enigma, but he was also lovely and when he met you it felt like time slowed for a second. Rocco was out with Sandy and DJ, trying to bond with his family was always difficult. But he realized that he had a brother now and he wasn’t too bad either. Vincent may not have wanted him around, but he didn’t go to him, he went to Sandy. She heard him out, that all he wanted was an actual relationship with them. 

It was shortly after Marina left him, he didn’t think he’d find love again, a part of him didn’t want to. Dating didn’t really matter before her, he lived off flings and one night stands, love didn’t matter, but she taught him there was more to life. Always encouraging him to connect with his family to meet with a dead-end. The last thing he expected was for her to go back to Johnnie, but to his luck, she did. When they broke up, he went to his mom’s, completely heartbroken. But she didn’t really know what to do with him and never saw her son so distraught. 

Spending time with DJ before he went off to college was a good distraction, having a motherly figure that wasn’t completely unstable was nice. It wasn’t that Rocco didn’t love his mother, but sometimes she just didn’t know what to do with him. He never had a good emotional role model, his father got angry and physical with him, and his mother just got as upset as he would. Sandy was stable, when he started crying, she consoled him, hugged him, got him some water, before making him some cookies. She stepped up when she didn’t have to, so when DJ wanted him to tag along with shopping so he wouldn’t get dragged into a lingerie store, Rocco agreed. Little did he know what that would hold for him. 

They were walking the strip mall when they came across Every Cherry yoga studio, a neon cherry at the end of the logo. Sandy rummages through her purse, “I’m gonna stop here for some new yoga pants, but they have smoothies too.”

When they walk in the whole place with a very light vibe, the smell of cherries and essential oil in the air with subtle low lighting. The front windows let most of the light into the room, which made the cherry wallpaper more vibrant. The desk was a light green color along with the rest of the furniture which was a little mismatched. There was another glass wall that held what looked like to be a shop but there was no actual door between the rooms.

“Hi! Welcome to Every Cherry! Who do we got here today, Sandy?” a woman with yellow blonde hair, green eyes, she was tall but more on the thin side. 

“Oh, these are my sons, DJ and Rocco.” she replies with a bright smile on her face, patting at DJ’s shoulders, while Rocco looks around the room, trying to take everything in. “Is Y/n in today?”

“Yeah, she’ll be done with a class in like ten, but if you want a smoothie I can make you one.” she offers. 

Sandy waves her hand, “Y/n makes the best smoothies, if you two want to wait.”

“Sure!” DJ peeps and Rocco just tucks his hand in his pockets.

Sandy wandered over to the clothing section, Rocco followed, browsing the clothes from a distance. It was clear that you were holding on to the cherry theme, he was curious to see who was on the other side of his cherry obsession. He notices that you had different sections for different sizes, but you had the same styles and prints, various sizes ranging from xxs to 5x. Along with a pride section, one that was clearly for the left wing party, not that he minded. Rocco just didn’t like to make it his whole personality, he likes to be more subtle, try not to make any waves. While he always wound up doing the opposite, it’s like he’s a magnet for bad energy.

Then you walk into the room, his eyes immediately shoot to you, he blinks a few times in what seems like disbelief. You walk in like a goddess would strut into mount olympus, it sounded stupid but he didn't know how to describe you. Perfect curves that your tight yoga pants clung to, with the signature cherry design he’d seen on the racks. You’re a small dark red tank top that clung to your upper body, with sweat prickled along your collarbones and temples. Hair pushed back to show off your soft face and drew more attention to your pretty eyes. 

“Hey Sandy!” you greet, the sides of your eyes crinkle as you smile brightly at them, your eyes fix on Rocco and he swore you grew a little flustered. “Hi, I’m-I’m Y/n.” 

“I’m DJ! And this is Rocco.”

“I-I can introduce myself, bud,” he chuckles, lightheartly, clapping his step brother on the back, “But yeah, I’m Rocco.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you two.” 

“You’re the owner?” DJ questions, and you hum, stepping behind the smoothie counter. 

“Yup, you like the place or is it too chessy?” 

“No, it’s perfect, it even smells like cherries in here!” 

“I try,” you shrug, your gaze kept flitting back to Rocco, “Do you guys like smoothies?

DJ retorts, “Yeah, who doesn’t?” 

“Well some people can’t stand the texture, on my hand, I hate the texture of fruit when it’s not blended.” you provide, “Do you have any specific kind you’d want?’

“Ohh, um I’ll do the strawberry, banana and cherry, thank you.”

“Of course, Rocco, do you want one?” he didn’t want to admit the way his breath hitches at the sound of his name on your tongue. 

“Sure…suprise me.” he juts his chin out with a soft smile, walking in closer to the counter. Getting a better look at you, he notices a little mark on your face that he wanted to soothe over with his thumb. 

“Okay then…you asked for it.” he pulls in a shallow breath at the remark, his adam’s apple bobbing. 

“I guess I did,” he murmurs, still looking into your eyes, while his lips part into a crooked toothy smile. He leans his forearms on the counter, and you feel your heart wobble in your chest.

“S-Sandy, do you want one?”

“I’m alright, thank you though” she hums, now glancing over the sticker aisle. You nod your head, before spinning on your heel towards the fridge. Grabbing out a large container that was organized with different bags of fruit. Then reaching into the fridge, the cold air washes over you while you look around for coconut milk. 

“So, how’d you learn to make smoothies?” DJ inquires, ever curious and he thought you were beautiful as well. 

“Well it took awhile to find the right ingredients that I like but, it was really just experimenting and then everyone loved them. Usually we have someone who runs this part but it's towards the end of the day.” you explain, using a scoop to dish out the fruit before adding in the respective liquid into each cup. 

Once you’re finished you screw the top with the blades pointing into the cup, doing it with a grace and precision that came with a long time of making smoothies. The sound of the blender running and chopping fills the room, and then you dish out DJ’s before moving on to Rocco’s. He feels a little creepy watching you, but you don’t seem uncomfortable, even shooting him a soft smile, dipping your chin, looking at him through your eyelashes. His teeth gently nipped at the inside of his cheek. 

Once the loud whirring finishes, “Here you go,” you pour the liquid into a cup for Rocco, you slide over and set a straw on top of it.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” There's a low timber to his voice that makes you lightly bite the inside of your lip. 

“Do you two do any yoga?” you ask, a knowing look in your eyes. Your eyes move over him now to really look at him, he wore a plain white t-shirt, and dark jeans with a brown belt slung across his hips. Along with a pair of black cowboy boots, that suits him way too well. Then you notice his strong arms and the way his light brown hair was swept back perfectly with golden strands in it. His jaw worked like he was chewing gum, but he was trying to suppress the shit-eating grin plastered on his face. You were checking him out, very obviously. 

“Well no…” DJ trails, as a tiny smile graces your lips.

That’s what led to Sandy going off to finish her shopping, and you dragging the boys into a studio with you. Getting them into Every Cherry attire before getting them out on mats, encouraging them even with their inflexibility. You help guide them, and while they were both respective, Rocco’s eyes couldn’t help but linger on the way your breasts sway forward. To the steadiness of your legs and the arch of your back, you were beautiful in the way you moved. Flowing into each move like a ballerina, the softness of your kind voice and the way you try to help. 

“Relax your shoulders a little, Rocco.” or “Don’t suck in, just let it go.”

It’s obvious to him and DJ why you had an inclusive studio, you were perfect for it. You welcomed them in without a second thought, the two went back into the small locker room, changing back into their regular clothes. 

 “Why do you go find Sandy, head out of here.” Rocco suggests, setting the clothes into a hamper. 

“She’s really something special, Rocco.” DJ comments, as he lightly glares at his step-brother, “Don’t mess it up.”

“Alright.” he chuckles, scrapping his bottom teeth along the inside of his mouth as DJ walks out of the locker room. Rocco follows behind, you're at the front counter as he rounds the corner, “So, uh, you just close this place by yourself?”

“Yeah usually,” you remark, “It’s a small business, I can’t really pay everyone for that…”

“Oh well, uh I could help.” he suggested, scratching the back of his head, “If you’re comfortable with that.”

“You wanna do that?” 

“Yeah.” he nods. 

So the two start closing the studio, which involves wiping down mats and putting them away, along with everything else. Vacuuming, sweeping, doing laundry and cleaning the dishes while you also worked a little on inventory. Rocco sent off a text telling them that he’d find a way home, while finishing up cleaning the back room. He’d been able to convince you to go out to dinner with him, you told him that you were gonna pay because he helped you out. Then you went to go take a quick shower, and come out in a crewneck and shorts. 

“Okay, let me lock up and we can go, did Sandy and DJ already head home?”

“Yeah, I told them not to wait up, got the old man to go back to.” he offers, while you turn off the Every Cherry sign before leading Rocco out of the studio and locking the doors behind you. 

“Awh, okay, so if you don’t want me to pry, just tell me, but you two have the same dad or?” you trail, the two of you beginning to walk towards the parking lot . 

“Well, uh, yeah, DJ’s dad died before he was born and my dad left when I was young, I always thought good riddance, you know?” he glances over at you with a sheltered blue gaze, checking for your response, you listen closely, “He-he was a mean drunk, an abusive asshole. But…then he went found Sandy and DJ, now a reformed man, fucking 80 years old and still wants nothing to with me.” he gives you an awkward smile, like he had just said way too much. 

“Oh my god, you inappropriately trauma dump too.” you laugh, which sounds like music to his ears, looking you just spouted out a siren song, “W-what?” the little nervous dip of your chin just made you even prettier. 

“Nothing, you’re just-beautiful.” There's a slight shake to his head like he just couldn’t believe you looked the way you did, like something exquisite that he just wants to eat you up. 

You pause walking, caught off guard, and he stops in his place, nervously scratching at his jaw, “That’s why you were looking at me like that?”

“Yeah…” he chuckles, “I mean I wanted to take you out tonight, don’t usually help every girl I meet close up their business, or make me do yoga.”

“You asked for those things, it’s not my fault.” you defend, your heart racing as nerves shoot through you, arms crossing over your chest. 

“I know.” Rocco grins, stepping in closer with you, “Is that alright? That I had ulterior motives?” his voice is gentle, non threatening, but you never knew men’s intentions were. Not when you’ve had so many blantly lie to you. 

“I mean, I’m not gonna sleep with you.”

“I wasn’t asking you to.” he retorts, tilting his head to the side, humor flickering behind his eyes. 

“Well, okay.” you flush, now a little embarrassed at your interrogation, but then Rocco offers you his arm. 

“C’mon, let me take you out on a date.” you bite the inside of your cheek before looping your arm through his, gently grasping on to his strong bicep. 

Everything became about you after that, showing up to your studio with Sandy, he stood awkward in a lot of classes. The studio was less superficial, so he wasn’t uncomfortable because of anyone. He was more nervous about messing up and embarrassing you, even though you weren’t officially dating, at this point. Rocco really hopes that the two of you would be able to, but he could tell you need to take it slow. 

That night you had divulged more about your dating history, why you were so suspicious of him. You were tired of men only wanting you for one thing, how many men lied to your face to get you into bed. Then there was your ex, someone who flits in and out of your life, always needing something from you. He had a hook in you since high school, but you hadn’t seen him in years. Last time he reached out to you, you ignored the message, hoping that he would just leave you alone. Rocco made you start forgetting about him, about the past men who screwed you over, you knew it wasn’t a lot to ask for someone to be genuine, but it was refreshing. 

You weren’t going to wait around, he needed to make the effort, he needed to show that he cared, and he wasn’t here to let you down. You weren’t going to mess around with someone who wasn’t going to be serious. You need someone who wants you just as much as you want them. Not wanting someone who wanted to live off of you rather than with you, so many people became parasitic in relationships. But he was showing that he could be there, that he could be on your calendar any night and would show up. Rocco didn’t need to be marked on your calendar to come around. He was there in the down moments, where nothing much was happening aside from quietly spending time together. 

There was a lot that went into dating, you liked to look your best, you liked to do all the tedious things that came with makeup and self care. It’s what came with your almost hyper femininity, you knew it was superficial, but you did because you liked feeling a little extra pretty. But you weren’t going to do it for someone who wouldn’t appreciate your effort, who didn’t find you amazing without it aswell. 

The way Rocco looks at you makes you feel like you’re on the top of the world, and you didn’t even have to try. You never wore makeup to the studio because it would just smear, you were confident in the way you were without it. There was something about a fresh natural face and your baby hair curling up. But when you dress up for him, he hypes you up, tells you how good you always look. You swore he looked at you the way an artist looked at a fresh canvas, and you never wanted him to stop. 

Rocco had learned all about taking it slow with his ex, and he knew he preferred it all the same. He became utterly obsessed with you, there when you called, almost always said yes to whatever you ask. The first time you kissed him it felt like everything was flipped upside down. That partner-shaped hole that was growing larger in your chest, was slowly being filled by him. It was a movie night, you were sitting together, comfortably you were tucked into his arm. This hasn’t been the first sleepover, but this is the first time physical touch began to be instinct. 

There’s a glimmer in his eyes, his eyes wandering from the screen to the soft curve of your jaw. Rocco thought about tracing your face with his finger multiple times, wanting to feel every beautiful ridge and mark. The way your lips curve and lightly pout, the point of your nose and the freckle along your hairline. You felt his warm gaze on you, turning your head to look up at him, his hand slowly reaching out for your chin. Pinching it between his thumb and forefinger, “How are you so pretty? You don’t even try.” but he doesn’t kiss you, he just runs his knuckle along your jaw. 

When he goes to move his hand away, yours cup his cheeks, slowly pulling him in to press your lips to his, in a barely there kiss. Your hands shake as they fall away from his face, but he leans in closer, his nose bumping yours. Sucking in a trembling breath before experimentally kissing you again. 

You waited so long to give into him because you didn’t want to go through the whole fight with them because they were using that notion. Because you wanted him around, you’d welcome him at any time but only if he was going to stick around. You were busy with your job, you ran a business and couldn’t play all the games you had in your earlier twenties. Rocco was the opposite of a waste of time and after a while you could see him around for the rest of your life. But it wasn’t a conclusion you were ready to divulge, though it was starting to warm into your heart. 

There were things that you understood on a similar level as him, having an unstable family dynamic being one of them. He saw you and thought creating a new dynamic, one where he’d be a good stable dad and you would be the beautiful mother. It was a lot for someone he’d only known for a few months but you were worming your way into his heart. Telling him about how your father dropped out on you when he got remarried. It felt like he’d thrown you away for a woman who was just there to use him. But he didn’t act like an adult, he couldn’t ask for help, but also couldn’t take care of himself. Rocco knew what it was like to be left behind, to feel like you don’t matter to a parent, or that you always had to step up and take care of them. 

One day you broke down in front of him at the studio, Father’s Day was coming around and you were trying to make plans with him. But he dodged you at every turn, made things more complicated by trying to dip out, the text had instantly made you upset, and you went to your office to try and calm down. You’d been close with your dad growing up, he was mean but you were his little girl and he was always kinder to you than with others. But you remember a lot of times he made you cry or told you he’d give you something to cry about.  He would’ve done anything for you back then and now he couldn’t even bother to show up to a dinner you were planning for him. Rocco wasn’t showing up for a session but rather bringing you lunch, but you weren’t in your class or at the front desk. So he went back to your office to hear you crying through the door,

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Rocco panics, his hand grasping the handle to realize it was locked, he lightly knocks on the door, “Can you let me in?” When you do, the sight breaks his heart, you’re trembling, cheeks wet and eyes red. “Hey, baby, what’s wrong?” he aids, closing the door softly behind him and moving in closer to you, the nickname accidentally slips off his tongue but it soothes you. 

“My-my dad he’s just, a fucking-he sucks and I miss him, I just-.” you shake your head, while he leads you to sit down on the small loveseat. “Here.” you sigh, handing him your phone. Rocco slowly read over the texts, from you planning a get together for him to him not knowing if his wife was up to it, then to him completely flaking out on you, a day before. “I mean, like at least he didn’t just not show up, but my brother lives two hours away and even he was gonna show up because you know, I was doing it and…I don’t know the last time my family was altogether because all my dad cares about is himself and his new wife.” 

“I’m sorry, this-you don’t deserve this.” Rocco assures, you’ve never heard his voice so gentle and caring before.

“Then why is it happening?” you sob, and his hand moves to the back of your neck, guiding you to his chest. One of your hands, sliding along his waist to grasp on to him, like he was one last grain of composure you had left. His other palm skimming along your spine, trying to soothe you.

“Because your dad doesn’t deserve a daughter like you, you care so much about him, about your family, it isn’t your fault he’s being lousy.” he consoles, dipping his chin down to whisper the words into your ear. 

Rocco knew from that moment that he’d just about do anything for you, that he could develop deeper feelings because they were already happening. You wound up still getting together for Father’s Day, just with your brothers and their kids. Trying to celebrate them, Rocco makes an appearance in support and you like the idea of him meeting your family. When they left and he was going to go see his dad, you offered to come with him and he went, “Are you sure?” he knew you met Sandy and DJ, but that wasn’t Vincent. He never brought a girl home to him before and was terrified he’d treat you badly. Not because he wouldn’t like you but because of whatever vendetta he held against Rocco ran deep. But it hadn’t been too bad since Sandy and DJ already adore you, it was more of you seeing your father in the man and having your own reservations. 

The relationship between you blossoming after such a vulnerable breakdown, opening each other up to your families. You didn’t label your relationship before this but it was much easier for you to introduce him as your boyfriend. After it leads into conversations about your childhood, about a father who was a mean drunk outweighed a lot of the damage from their mom’s. The anger travels, when you see it, it’s hard not to resort back to the behaviors you learned. But you managed, you’d gone to therapy, been on medication, while Rocco just held on by his boot straps. 

When you finally had sex it was like a seal over everything that had been welling up. All the intense adoration you felt for him grew and solidified between the two of you. Like a root taking to soil, he knew the moment he saw you laid out like an angel in his bed-that he was over for. That if you were to leave him, that probably would be the end of it for him, he wouldn’t be able to love anyone else. 

The feeling of your velvet walls wrapped around him was something he could only get from you, it was the nail in the coffin. He just knew he wouldn’t be able to be loved by anyone else in the way you did, he wouldn’t be able to find you again. When you touched him it felt like electric, like an itch he needed to scratch, he always knew when it was you. Because you have a delicate touch, always hesitant and gentle, even in the midst of pleasure. Even when you grasp at him like he might disappear. The final link went into place, he got to experience all of you, the hunger that you hid underneath shy looks and giggles. You were needy in bed, whiney, everything any man could ask for, but it was genuine. Rocco still had to work to get you there, to get things just the way you like, but you were eager for all of it. 

But it was also about the small things, about the way Rocco took his coffee in the morning, the kind of toothpaste you preferred. Showing up with food to your respective jobs, doing things without having to be asked, just because you remembered. It was indulging in the hobbies he kept tucked away and accepting him when he was vulnerable with you. For Rocco, it was extremely hard to open up, even when he wanted to. He still fell back into old patterns with shame and regret, he still felt to blame for his father leaving. It was showing him that you weren’t going anywhere, not like his father, not like Marina. 

And when your ex showed up, it was a test for all of it. To his love for you, for your love for him. You hadn’t said those little words yet, but when Aaron shows up to your job, demanding to speak to you, causing a commotion. Luckily, it had been a day that Sandy was attending one of the classes and she immediately alerted your boyfriend. She wouldn’t have done it other than the reason you looked uncomfortable and small. Kicking into mama bear mode, she contacts him before hanging around close to your office, to ensure you were safe.

You two went back and forth, where you told him he didn’t have a chance anymore, things were over. Aaron couldn’t stop arguing, pleading, talking his way around everything you said with exceptional skill. Twisting your words around so he could make you feel guilty, but you just got more angry. All the therapy taught you the signs of his manipulation, and when you shouted at him to ‘get the fuck out’. It’d been perfect timing because Rocco had just arrived, he tried to call you after the text from Sandy. The door had been closed, but he opened it without regard, just to see your ex push you up against the wall. Your head banging against the drywall, he was pried off of you in seconds. 

You had tears running down your cheeks, your hands shaking, and Sandy steps into the room, “What the fuck is your problem? Huh?”

“Oh, so this is the boyfriend? Are you just jealous I was about to take what’s mine?”

Rocco’s fist met Aaron’ face with a crunch to his nose, “Rocco!” he didn’t hit again, he had restraint and just broke the guy’s nose. Your hands came up to your mouth, as Sandy came into the room.

Aaron groans as Rocco takes a hold of his nose, pointing it back so the blood would go down his face and not on your carpet, before dragging him out of the room and dragging him into a near-by alley, “You’re not gonna talk, or put your hands on Y/n ever again,” he grabs the man by his jaw, roughly pushing him up against the wall, anger flaring in his eyes, “Or I’ll do a lot fucking worse than breaking your nose and arm.” he snarls, jaw constricting, nose flaring. 

“My ar-.” he shouts in pain as Rocco snaps his arm with a harsh pull in the wrong direction.

“Shut the fuck up, I didn’t say you could talk.” he smacks his head back into the wall again with Rocco’s flat hand slams against his face, “We’re never gonna see your face again? Is that clear? Nod.” he grunts, and Aaron does like an obedient puppy. 

Ali had already worked on escorting everyone out of the studio, when Rocco finally got his hands on Aaron everyone had been long gone, so when he got him out she promptly locked the door. You come out of your office, trying to look for him, “Where did Rocco go?”

“Honey, just don’t-don’t worry about that, he’ll come back.”

“I just don’t want him to get into any trouble.” your voice is small. 

“He knows better.” Sandy assures, when he shows back up at the door, you immediately unlock the door. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Rocco checks, stepping into the studio as you nod. He steps in closer, framing your body with his by slotting his leg between yours, gently cupping your face in his hand. “I need to hear you.”

“I’m okay.” you mutter, looking up at him with glassy eyes, “Can you take me home?”

“How about I drive both of you back, neither one of you needs to be driving.” Sandy declares. 

Neither one of you were going to argue with her, so Ali and a few other employees were going to stay behind to close up. You sat in the back of Sandy’s hybrid, one of your hands intertwined with his. Holding on him tightly, leaning your head against his shoulder, he’d lean in to kiss your forehead, or your head. Sometimes you would turn your head to and connect your lips in a soft reassuring kiss. She pulls up to your apartment, and you both whisper goodbyes before heading inside together. When you go for his hand, he flinches and you realize that his other knuckles on his other hand are split open with dried blood coding them. 

So when you get into the apartment, he sheds off his leather jacket on your couch, then lets you grasp his other hand and wordlessly leads him into the bathroom. “Sit.” you nod to the toilet, leaning down below your sink to grab out the first aid box. 

Rocco watches your every movement like you're a shattered piece of glass that hadn’t yet fallen apart. Guilt welling up in his chest, he never wanted to get physical like that in front of you. He didn’t like doing it regardless. But he didn’t want you to feel unsafe around him, the idea that you couldn’t trust him anymore made his throat tight, “I-I’m sorry, I-I might’ve gone too far.” he sighs, while you open the little box and slowly reach for his hand.

“Was he able to walk away?”

“Yeah.” he utters, not meeting your eyes, and your other hand comes to his chin, pointing it back towards yours. 

“You protected me-I.” you start, “He’s never gotten physical like that, and I I got really angry at him and maybe if I just didn’t-.”

“Nothing you could say would make it okay for him to put his hands on you, he’s lucky I didn’t kill him.” he winces at his own harsh words, but they come out in a fit of passion. There’s a glimmer in your eyes as you slowly start pressing a wet piece of cloth against the blood. Rocco sucks in a breath through his teeth, biting on the inside of his lip. 

“Well, he looked scared shitless so I think I won’t be bothering us anymore.” you comment, he nervously looks into your eyes, blue eyes unsure and almost fearful. “I-I was so scared, I, how did you even know?”

“Sandy called me when he stormed in, and said you looked scared.” Rocco informs, shaking his head with a far off glare in his gaze. “Are-are you scared of me?”

“No.” you breathe, pausing on his hand to sincerely stare into his eyes, “I’m not scared of you, I know it’s been worse.”

“I should’ve taken it outside before-.”

“I’m sure you did.” you interrupt, sighing at the look of the pink raw and splintered skin. “Okay, this is gonna sting, Ro.” gently dabbing the anti-septic against the cotton pad before dabbing it against his knuckles. 

“Fuck-that’s sore.” 

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m almost done.” you confide, a delicate worried expression on your face, like you were actually hurting him. 

“I’m alright,” the words soothe something in you, your shoulders relaxing. You finish up before applying ointment and wrapping it in a badge as it still lightly bled from the sides of the wounds. Applying pressure to his knuckles, with a tender press of your palm, enough pressure to hopefully aid the bleeding. “Thank you for patching me up, baby.” 

“Thank you for being my knight in shining armor, or leather.” you smile at your little quip, bringing his hand up to lay a gentle kiss above his knuckles. A crooked smile slowly lines his lips, dimples pressing into his cheeks. 

“You don’t gotta thank me for that, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” Rocco confesses, and you let go of his hand to slide your palm against the stubble on his face. 

“I know,” your voice is soft, the air between you making your heart drum, “now are you gonna stay the night with me?” 

“Only if you want me to.” he remarks.

“I do, I don’t want you going anywhere.” you retort, leaning in to press a kiss to his nose, his eyes fluttering shut. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.” 

You take a shower to rinse off the day and the encounter before finding Rocco in your bed. There was a drawer full of his clothing that he’d conveniently forgotten over here, or you might’ve stolen. He watches you carefully when you come out in a towel, your hair still dry and wrapped up in a clip. Your skin still dewy from the shower, you walk over to your vanity to pump some of your vanilla cashmere lotion into your hand. Slowly dragging it across your skin, you did everything so gracefully, seemingly calming down with every step of your self care routine. Which ends with your facial moisturizer and a spritz of your favorite cherry perfume, you throw on one of your sleep shirts. 

You crawl right into his arms, and he presses an affectionate kiss to your head with a brush of his nose. Then you angle your head back, reaching up to slide your hand against his face again, pulling him down to kiss your lips. 

“I’m so lucky to have you.” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, then you connect your mouths.  “Nothing’s been the same after you, I-I thought that my life was full, maybe love wasn’t for me. But it is, you are.” 

Hearing love on your tongue just made his filter completely falter, the words he wanted to say the moment he walked back into that studio, slipping out of his mouth, “I love you.” 

You freeze your hand against his face, his cerulean blue eyes gleaming, as you slide your fingers into his hair and kiss him harder. The sound that leaves your mouth is wanton than you part with a shaky exhale. The words zip through your brain as you try to process them, you could feel the words in your body. You could tell by the beat of your heart and the desperation you felt in your mouth, hands, core. Then you press your forehead to his, one of his hands engulfing the side of your face. A brush of his fingers, then you lean into his palm, whispering a faint, “I love you too.”

Rocco pauses as if he wasn’t sure of what you just said, that those words could be true for him. The heat of his palm against your face is grounding and you could just stay there as long as he needed you to in order for him to believe those words. You know it’s not that he doesn’t trust your words, he didn’t know if he could believe he was truly loveable, so repeat yourself, “I’m in love with you, Rocco.” The words are shaky as your nerves course through you, but you follow your gut feeling. 

His mouth drops open, eyebrows furrowed as you lean in to peck the side of his lips, trailing to his chin. “Can I show you?” you ask, sliding a palm over his collarbone and around the curve of his shoulder. 

“C’mere, sweet thing.” he husks, as you move on to his lap, his hands find the dip of your waist then slowly slip down to your hips. “I can’t believe you’re in love with me.” darting forward to connect your mouth in a passionate embrace, you moan against his mouth as you shift your weight forward. “What did I do to find a girl like you to love me?” he purrs, only inches away from your mouth when he says it before your lips hungrily collide with his. 

Then his hand tangles into the back of your hair, pulling you into him like you were something precious he found and needed to protect. Rocco’s strong arm loops around your waist, gently sitting up to push you on to your back. He slots his body between your legs, while your fingers trail along his chest before curling into the back of his shirt. You hum into his mouth, while his lips dance with yours, slow with a reverence that came with loving someone with all of you. There was no other way, when you open your eyes to look into his, a glimmer shines in his ocean blue eyes that always felt like they ran into like a truck. His mouth finds yours again in an open mouth kiss, delving his tongue past your lips, while his hips grind into yours.

“Make love to me,” you urge, gasping shakily, your fingers tugging at the back of his shirt. 

His jaw unhinges with a raspy breath, throwing his shirt somewhere else in the room. Your fingers trailing down his chest, moving your mouth along the soft ridge of his pec, over the littering freckles. Rocco’s hands grasping at your thighs, your night shirt bunching up around your hips to reveal your pantie clad hips. Hands slowly skating up to pull your shirt off and throwing it somewhere in the room. Leaning in to kiss over the swell of your breasts before trailing down to llave at your nipples, your back arching into him with a whine. His teeth grazing the sensitive flesh before leaving soft kisses like an apology. 

This wasn’t an unfamiliar dance, but it felt different, every kiss felt like it set you on fire. Moaning against you like he couldn’t but relish in the taste of your skin. He turns your nipples into stiff peaks that ache for him, your legs beginning to squirm. Rocco moves down to loop his fingers into your panties and drag them past your knee in a fluid motion. Just for you to push your thighs together as your core aches, he pries them apart with a thin lipped grin. A throaty groan leaves his mouth as your sex is revealed to him. He moves down on to his elbows, looping them around your thighs and tugging you closer to his face. 

Rocco’s tongue delves through your folds before his lips suction around your clit, your hips flexing towards his mouth as you let out a moan of his nick name, “Ro.” not able to get out the full name with the way he absolutely devours you. Your chest begins to heave when his tongue slicks through you, pushing into your cunt, before focusing back on your sensitive nerves. 

Your bones melting like ice cream on a hot summer day, sinking into the bed beneath you, he watches you through his lashes, the wrinkles on his forehead dipped. His mouth passionately making out with your pussy, moaning like you were the one going down on him. When you come it runs down your spine and your hips buck into his mouth. Your thighs tensing underneath his strong hands that hold on to you for leverage. Then you relax into his arms after it washes through you and Rocco slowly crawls up your body. Enveloping his lips against yours, licking into your mouth so you could taste yourself. 

“God, please, I need you Ro.”

“Yeah? How badly?” Rocco croaks, nudging his nose against your jaw and leaving a litter of kisses. 

“So bad, please, give me your cock.” you plead, your hands pushing at his pajama pants, and he lets out a gravely chuckle, shoving his pants down his legs and slotting himself between your legs. 

“Give you anything, baby, I love you.” he mewls, sliding your lips together, as your legs hike up around his hips. 

“I love you, Rocco, more than I-I can express.” you relent, fingers twining into your hair and dipping your tongue into his mouth. He hums, jerking his cock a few times before lining him up to your entrance.

Having sex with you from the beginning was special, he knew how nervous you were. Then after all that repressed sexual tension was let loose on Rocco. Not that minded, he loved to watch you writhing and begging for him. It also turned into you needing birth control because you would want him so often and condoms weren’t kept up. Especially when you randomly wanted him somewhere.So needy for him, trusting him so much that you became your most vulnerable with him. You also loved the thrill of almost being caught, maybe in what could happen. But you knew Rocco would protect you. Even before you declared you love each other, relying on him when you needed gentle words and touches. 

When he finally shifts his hips forward to ease into you, you both let out a relieved breath. Rocco’s forehead pressing to yours, while he began to pull out before sinking back inside. Struggling to not squeeze his eyes shut while gazing right into yours, eyes dilated and glassy. Everytime his cock pushes into you, it feels like you grow more and more full each time. His warm strong body pressing against you to the ridges of his body, the sparse hair on his chest. Your fingers are still ruffling through his hair, which only drives him crazier. His length pulsates inside of you, the friction making his stomach ache with pleasure. The exact precision, rough push of his hips, then his hand brushes over your clit. 

Moving back on to his knees, he drags you with him while your feet land on either side of his thighs, planting into the bed so you could meet his thrusts. Pressing your shoulders into the mattress, Rocco tentatively swirling his fingers around your bundle of nerves. “Oh-yes right there.” you gasp, your hand flying back behind your head to fist a pillow, your other hand helping you sway into his cock. His head tilts back while you flutter around him, when he lulls his head forward, strands of his long hair fall in front of his eyes. 

You struggle to keep your eyes on him, the sweat sticking to his chest, the way his lower abs flex and tremble. You watch him like you're in a trance, your mouth dropping open to let out the smallest, barely there noises. Rocco watches you, trying to memorize the jiggle of your breasts, the way you move with him desperately, seeking out everything he is giving you. 

“You’re so fucking amazing, god, I wish you could see yourself.” Rocco rasps, one of his arms moving down so his fingers could grasp at your full breast. Slowly pinching your nipple between his fingers, while arching your back, moaning loudly as your orgasm blasts through you and you gush around his cock. “Fuck-” you clamp around him, sucking him in and making his hips stutter as he comes inside of you. 

Your legs give out, relaxing against his thighs, while he slows his movements before moving over you. Keeping his cock nestled inside for a second, kissing your cheek and a delicate one lands on your mouth. You try to kiss him back when you’re tired and completely sated, you whimper when he pulls his large member out of you. Rocco brushes your hair gently away from your face, rolling the two of you over and pulling you tight into his chest. You nuzzle into his warm chest, while his fingers slide over the back of your neck and sliding down to lightly grasp onto your bicep with a protective squeeze. 

“C’mon, you need to pee.” Rocco leads, voice soft while he helps you to stand, your legs jelly, he holds you up, sliding your night shirt back on you and tugging up his sweats. Then he leads you to the bathroom, once you’re on the toilet, he kisses your forehead and dips out quickly. Grabbing you some water, and himself some along with a snack just in case, he heads back as you're washing your hands. “You ready for bed, now?”

You give him a lazy grin, nodding your head as he hands you the water, arm wrapping around your waist. The two of you tuck into the sheets, his arms wrapping around your waist and your back pressed to his chest, “I might kidnap you tomorrow, I don’t know if I wanna leave this bed.” you comment, you feel his chest lightly rumble with humor, dipping his head into your neck and kissing over the side of your throat. 

“Is it kidnapping if I’m willing?”

“Yeah it’s called Stockholm syndrome.” you joke, holding on the strong arms wrapped around you. 

He gently snorts, you feel his sweet lopsided smile against your skin, “Well, I’m not going anywhere.”