#reiben x reader

[southernbelllle]

And He Was Haunted

Richard Reiben x Reader

Prompt: The war comes back to Reiben in many different ways, and it's up to you to help him cope.

Word Count: 2.6k

AN: I promise I will write for Platoon again soon lol. I just have to figure out how to finally tune my interpretation of Barnes into someone I can write something "sweet" about lol.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

The train ride back to Brooklyn was long and bumpy. Arduous, Richard Reiben sat in front of a lady dressed from head to toe in an emerald, green dress and fur coat. The jewels that hung from her neck were gaudy and chunky. They didn’t shine, they just sat.

“Soldier boy,” she spoke, voice coated in sugar. “Am I to assume you’re heading home?”

Reiben simply looked at her completely devoid of emotion. He spoke not a word, simply looking at the older lady. He could see right through such an individual. He could even before the hellish torment that was his time overseas.

He continued to ignore her, unwilling to engage with the absurdity of the common civilian. He had seen enough; he no longer had the energy to devote himself to the pointless. He doubted if he ever did.

“You’re a quiet one, aren’t you?” She asked with a sly smile. “Must’ve had the breath taken from you on your travels.”

“Bitch, you ain’t got a fucking clue.” He thought to himself. His body rocked with every chug of the train. He averted his tired eyes from the woman to the window that he had sat himself beside.

“The strong and silent type I see…” she lowered her eyes at him like a cougar on the prowl. He could sense her growing need to pull him into her grasp. He wanted no part in it.

“Strong yeah but far from quiet.” He stated bluntly. An annoyed smile that faked congeniality spread across his lips. Like a dog showing its teeth, but not posing a threat. Not yet at least.

“Oh…is there a way I could test that theory?” The woman flirted.

“Fuck yeah there is.” He was growing more and more annoyed as the time on the train dwindled. The combined screeching of the tracks against the wheels combined with the lady’s redundant question asking made him wonder if making it out alive was really worth.

But then he remembered you.

And suddenly, he found the will.

A thin brunette boy who worked on the train’s service crew was walking down the aisle when suddenly, he felt an arm stiff at his side.

“Hey kid.” Reiben said. “What’s a poor bastard gotta do to get a scotch around here.”

“I’m sorry sir, no alcohol after 8 O’clock.’ The boy answered cooly. His voice was quiet like a kitten’s whisper. Barely audible over the chatter of the train.

“Mother fucker….” Reiben muttered under his breath. He brought a hand to wipe the sweat that hung from his brow.

“What- What can I get?”  He asked with annoyed desperation. “I need something to get me through this God forsaken train ride.”

“At this hour we are offering water, tea, coffee, or juice.” The boy counted the options on his fingers. A damply wet towel hung from his forearm. Reiben noticed the tiny ghost of a mustache and the thin pencil like straightness of his eyebrows. He reminded him of someone, someone he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Uh,” He glanced down toward his toes, eyebrows knit firmly together. His fingers running through his hair in frustration. “Can I get a- a coffee?”

“Of course.” The man nodded. “It’ll be right out.”

Reiben’s head fell into his hands. He craved a quiet moment. He hadn’t experienced a true moment of peace since he left. He thought about you again. God, he couldn’t wait to get back home to you. You were the life’s blood that ran through his veins. Your gorgeously delicate face lived on the backs of his eyelids. In just about, he looked down to his watch, 10 short minutes this train ride would be over, and he’d be on his way home to you, and he could put all of this shit behind him.

“You know, if your looking for a way to get through this train ride-“the woman spoke up again. Her voice dripping in the same seduction. However, Reiben had lost his patience.

“Look, look look listen lady,” Reiben lifted his head up from his hands. Anger burning through his tone. “I don’t want you. Ok? I just fucking don’t.” He flashed a sarcastic smile as he threw his hands in the air. “I got a girl at home. A beautiful girl. Who’s been writing me letter after letter about how badly she misses me.” He scolded. “I know that you won’t understand this, considering your sorry son of a bitch husband is waiting for you at home while you’re out stalking men on trains, but I’m one lucky bastard to even have a girl waiting on me. Ok? So, if it’s fine with you. I’d like to end this miserable train ride in silence.”

The woman was gazing scornfully at the soldier. Her ego clearly bruised as she accepted her defeat. “Well.” She spat. “I guess I know when I’m not wanted.” She picked up the fox fur that had been sat around kitten heeled feet. Reiben watched as the dead fox’s head whipped around her shoulders as she got up. Finally, one fucking free moment.

His back bounced against the seat as he let out an exhausted breath. He looked around the train at the other passengers. A man with a big black top hat and well pressed suit, a woman with blonde hair in a Dutch braid, two small children dressed in faux military costumes celebrating the end of the war. None of these assholes would ever be dealt the blow that he had been. If they did, they’d know that there wasn’t shit to celebrate. No, not a damn thing.

Good men died wearing the same uniform they did, except only that time, the blood and gore was real instead of imaginary.

As he began to look at the children closer, he noticed the stark height difference between the two boys at play. The tall boy had caramel skin and buzzed hair. He played with a wooden sniper rifle that he’d point at random passengers on the train. The second boy was little. He flew a small toy blimp around with his tiny palm. He had big brown eyes like a baby deer. He’d seen that look before, when his wounded friend was looking up at him from the dirt. He averted his gaze.

Man, he was angry. He was an angry man before, when he was just another guy from Brooklyn spitting at the pavement and shaking his fist at the sky. Now, he was all of that plus running himself ragged from replaying the gut turning memories he’d collected from his time in France.

His ticket home was the worst thing to happen to him. He really did believe that out of the eight men he had been sent to search the French countryside with, he was the least deserving of coming home. He was pissy and rebellious throughout the whole mission. Quite literally even “giving up” at one point. Yet, he was the one chosen to come home. He knew that it should’ve been a soldier with talent and grit like Jackson, or a medic that had tended to the wounded quickly and devoutly, like Wade.

But no, it was him. One of two survivors. He’d made a point to fuck off as far away from Upham as possible because of the trauma that would flood his brain and make his face turn cold. He couldn’t look at him without seeing them.

The train whistled as it halted to a stop. The screeching of the tracks and abrupt ceasing of movement yanked him out of his thoughts.

He puled his gear out from the top compartment and slung it over his large frame. He started down the thin isle with steps heavier than boulders.

The two children dressed in the costume version of his current uniform ran past him. He stopped and stared as they ran toward the door.

One of the children, turned to look at Reiben, and with a toothy grin, saluted him. The boy then tapped the other boy’s shoulder and pointed at the towering man. Upon seeing him, the second boy shot the same nod and salute, then hurried off of the train.

Reiben was never a crier. He wore the rock-solid mask of a macho man everywhere he went before the war. But now, after the mission he’d had the misfortune of being thrust under, he cried at the drop of a hat.

Neither was he a Godly man before, but he felt God had temporarily shot his brothers down from Heaven for one last memory, seeing them one more time in a way that didn’t involve them groveling for mercy. Something to help him sleep at night. Jackson told him once that God would send him signs of his grandaddy randomly. He’d talked about how the two of them would go dove hunting every weekend, and after his granddaddy died, he’d have a dove gently rap outside his window. Peeking in to check in on how Jackson was doing. Reiben thought about how the two of them were probably flying across the Eastern Tennessee sky together now. It was bittersweet.

But he thanked God anyway.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Reiben stood still in the middle of the isle, lost in his own mind.

“Sir,” a man tapped him on the shoulder. Reiben was splashed by the surprise that washed over his face. It was the bus boy.

“We put your coffee in a cup to go. Your father suggested to us that you may want it for the walk home.” He said, handing the cup to Reiben.

“My father?”  He asked.

“Yes,” the bus boy said. “The man with the dark hair who ordered for you.” He looked across the aisle. “He must’ve gotten off already.”

“That’s impossible.” He spat. “I ordered by myself.”

The bus boy looked at him with confusion. “No sir. He told us that you preferred a lid because you take great clumsy, strides when you walk. He told us that he’d watched you walk in front of him and gripe. He seemed to have known you very well, sir.”

Reiben blanky starred at the thin boy. He looked him up and down with his, and gently took the coffee cup from his hand.

“Thanks,” He trailed off as he turned around, coffee cup in hand.

As Reiben walked off of the train (by this point he was the last man aboard) and grabbed the metal handle to help him step off.

Through the quiet of the train though, he could hear the gentle clicking and clacking of a typewriter tucked somewhere within the train car. He peeked back into the car and saw the small bus boy, clad in proper military gear, devoid of any scratches or stains, pecking on the keys of a typewriter.

Reiben remembered.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

His Brooklyn neighborhood late at night felt more foreign than homely. He felt as though he was a phantom haunting the streets of an innocent community. His steps poisoned each broken slap of concrete on the sidewalk. His whole life felt like a dream at this point. He was the angry troll that had returned to the kingdom to terrorize the civilians with his gruesome aura.

He walked up the steps of your shared town house and fumbled with the keys to the door. It was an old, familiar sensation of tying to match they key with the lock. He felt as if it had been a decade since he had performed such a mundane action. A goblin breaking into the princess’ castle with a battering ram is how it translated in his head. He felt sick.

Once he had opened the door, he saw a welcome sight. A sight he wasn’t aware that he’d missed, he saw a room clean. The apartment was spotless. You didn’t know when Reiben was going to return, but you knew it could be any day, and you wanted to make sure it was welcome.

It was warm, too. He slipped his jacket off to stand in his olive toned sleeveless shirt and trousers as he stood in the doorway. A kitchen, a living room, a bathroom with a toilet. He could’ve cried.

His eyes then led him over to the staircase that led up to his favorite room. The room where he knew you were asleep, blissfully unaware of the man and his baggage that were standing in the house.

He gulped a nervous swallow as he slowly walked up the stairs. Pictures of you and him framed and polished held his hand as he took each agonizing step. Your eyes, full and bright in each picture. You almost seemed like a fantasized legend of folklore at this point. The sleeping mermaid princess being rudely intruded upon by the evil great white shark. The angry, great white shark.

He finally arrived at the bedroom. He perched at the doorway and watched your sleeping silhouette rise and fall at a snail’s pace. He could see your satin nightgown hug your curves as the blanket laid loosely on your frame.

He almost felt perverse for watching such a sight. It had been so long since he’d been able to love you the way he wanted. To touch you, caress you, gently nibble at the shell of your ear as he felt your weight on his lap. It felt like a lifetime ago, and with his newfound trauma, wondered if you’d even ever let him again. He thought about it all the time back overseas. He’d just never really thought it through.

He took his shirt and boots off at the base of the bed. He looked down at the empty space beside you that had grown cold and hollow. He forgot how exciting it was to simply crawl into a warm bed.

He laid down and to his surprise, felt the mattress welcome him home by reforming back to the comfort level in which he liked. At least the bed remembered him… at least.

He then turned on his side to you. Your back was turned away from him. Sleeping so soothed and gently, he wanted to touch you. Truth be told, that was the very least thing he wanted to do to you, but it was a good start.

Terrified, he reached the palm of his hand to rest on your shoulder. He could’ve cried again. You were warm, and your skin was soft. He hadn’t remembered the feeling of being warm and soft.

He couldn’t help himself; he brought another hand to your shoulder and did the same. Warm and soft.

Like a grizzly bear, he couldn’t stop himself from wrapping you into a full hug. He loved it. He felt a sense of crazy euphoria. His skin goose bumped with the sensation. Bliss, that’s what it was, it was bliss.

The best part of the hug, however, was your sleeping figure turning to cuddle into his solid chest. Your nose brushing against his bicep as you settled into him. As if no time at all was lost, your two puzzle pieces fit back together and completed the picture.

He was angry, sad, and all ripped up inside when he came home to you, but with time, he felt that it would all be alright.

And when he awoke that morning, Reiben saw a white mourning dove sitting at his window.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

[saint-petah-the-good]

Wallpaper saving private ryan

[honey-im-hotdog]

Hate to Adore You

Richard Reiben x reader

Author’s Note: YES I KNOW THIS TOOK ME FOREVER TO GET DONE AND POSTED DON’T LOOK AT ME!!! I made it a tiny bit longer to make up for the wait. Also yes, I do think I did something there with the title 😌 anyway thanks @notmykirk for playing beta, you’re an angel <3 I hope y’all enjoy!

Do yourselves a favor and go watch this edit of him <3

As always, reader is supposed to be gn+vague, so if you catch any mistakes related to that please let me know. 

Word Count: 1.7k 

Warnings: swearing ofc it’s me instagram told me they’ll delete my account dxhybidpurvibvnu, suggestive content minors please don't, buddy boys this one has violence nothing graphic I think but it’s there, half the time I just rambled so it might be v bad ;) 

Summary: Mafia!au Reiben — I’ve also done Jackson & Mellish 

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Gif credit goes to @fandomscenariosforyou

He’s a piece of shit, but a very ~pretty~ piece of shit.

I know that the nickname of Richard is usually Dick, but I really feel like Reiben would go by Rich instead.

Wears his army issued bomber jacket with Brooklyn written on the back all the time, it's his prized possession.

Has so many guns on him at all times, like where does he hide them???

100% rocks that greaser look!!

BIGGEST FLIRT OH MY GOD! (Low key sleazy but still a gentleman or Miller would have his ass.)

Will and does curse out anyone.

Now onto you ;)

He was a frequent attendee of the club you worked in. You were just a bartender so you didn’t interact with him much, but boy did you know about him.

You’re sure flirting is the same as breathing for him.

You always checked him out whilst working; he is gorgeous afterall. And that voice?? Oh boy...

But as mentioned earlier, he is a huge flirt and you really didn’t want to get your heart broken—which was something you knew would have happened for sure because you’d been nursing a crush on him for a long time, and it seemed to get worse every time he appeared at the club.

So it’s no surprise that when he does talk to you, you’re cold and dismissive (if he didn’t have the means to absolutely destroy your life, you would have liked to bite back at him, but alas).

Am I gonna add the “into you ‘cause you don’t show interest in me” trope??

Kinda

He’s more intrigued by the fact that you hate him when he’s never even talked to you before.

In the beginning he tried his usual charms to get you to crack, but after realizing you weren’t gonna fall for his tricks, he started trying to get a rise out of you.

You both hated each other.

Or that's what it seemed like on the outside.

Every interaction made you like him more somehow.

And somewhere in the middle his feelings towards you changed, and he started wanting you to smile at him like you smile at the other customers.

This back and forth kept up for a good while.

The day your relationship changed was when you were walking home at night after a shift.

Someone had been following you for a couple blocks, you felt the fear prickle your skin as you tried to speed up your pace, but suddenly you were pushed into an alley and pinned against the wall.

Your assailants’ musty breaths hit your face and it made you feel that much more panicked, claustrophobic, and scared; there were two of them you realized through the haze of adrenaline. They wanted you to hand over any valuables on you. You attempted to fight back but one of them backhanded you and the other kneed you in the stomach.

You would have fought more if it wasn’t for the knife one of them pushed against your neck.

You were terrified—beyond terrified. You really believed your life was about to end. Especially when the knife broke skin.

But the universe was looking down at you in mercy, ‘cause ouR BOY RICHARD CAME TO YOUR RESCUE YES BITCH CLICHÉSSS!!!

To date you still don’t fully know what happened, just that one moment you were pinned against a cold brick wall fearing for your life, and the next you were crouched down in Richard’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably, while he softly whispered in your ear “you're okay,” “I’m here,” and that he’s “got you.”

You vaguely remember him getting you up, sitting you in his car, and asking for your address.

He took you home that night and walked you to your door.

You insisted on making him a drink as a thank you.

What was supposed to be just one drink, turned into four and you two sat on your couch until the early hours of the morning, talking.

You both ended up falling asleep on the couch side by side, leaning against each other which made your necks hurt like a bitch when you woke up.

In the morning, he asked you to have breakfast with him. If it had been anytime earlier, you would have said no, but after the night you had, you realized that you didn't want to be cold to him anymore and that if he breaks your heart, then so be it, but you were going to take that leap anyway.

And oh boy, are you grateful for saying yes :)

Dates with him are always fun. They range anywhere from chill to doing illegal things.

He once takes you to the nearest woods and teaches you everything about guns as a date, like a weekend in a comfy cabin with empty beer bottles to shoot, the whole thing...

He’s HUGE on PDA, he loves being with you and having you in his life, so it only seems natural to him to show you off. Because you’re amazing and wonderful and beautiful and you could be with anyone but you’re with him and that fact makes his heart skip a beat.

He’s so in love with you.

Speaking of: 

It was several months into your relationship when Richard, whilst joking around, said that it felt like he knew two different people when it came to you: how you were so cold to him when he first met you versus the day you invited him inside for a drink.

You never told him how you truly felt about him, especially what your thoughts were in the beginning towards him, so you decide to open up to him finally.

And you best believe this man grabbed you and kissed you senseless before confessing that he loves you and he’d never ever break your heart.

He adores telling you he loves you and hearing it back. After he confesses to you, he says it almost non-stop the whole day.

Get a big goofy smile every time you tell him you love him. 

When it comes to showing his affection, he zeros in on your neck, he’s a neck guy.

Cups your neck all the time, especially when he pulls you in or goes in for a kiss. Rubs his thumb up and down your neck when you two are relaxing together or to turn you on, this bitch somehow conditioned you to have a neck thing just like him.

Rubs his stubble or nose against your neck to make you laugh.

Will hug you from the back and place a kiss on your neck or under your jaw, this is either done as a greeting, to show you some love, or as him initiating sex—it’s all in the way he’ll place the kiss.

This fucker l o v e s teasing you in public, he’s so into public sex/sex in places where being caught is a high risk.

Dom in the streets, sub in the sheets BIG TIME! Like Mellish, he’s into being a top and a bottom, but he’s really into letting you have control.

That’s because he walks around as if nothing can touch him, so letting his guard down around you is almost therapeutic for him, and not just in a sexual way—in general.

I mean he’s still cocky as fuck, but he likes that he doesn’t have to keep up a tough guy persona around you.

BIG TIME MAMA’S BOY ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

He’s super excited for you to meet his mom, going on and on about how much she’s gonna love you and how you have nothing to worry about.

And his mom adores you.

Her and his younger sister tell you embarrassing stories about him all the time.

You and his sister become best friends and tease him relentlessly, y’all gang up on the poor guy.

Obviously he’d want a fuck ton of kids, whether biological or adopted or a mix of both. He’s always been excited to be a dad and he thinks you’d make the best parent.

If you don’t want kids, he’d first try to talk you into it, but once he realizes you don’t want them, oh boy do you guys adopt dogs.

So many dogs (even if you have kids); he likes the mean looking dogs, the ones people usually think are horrible and mistreat (honestly fuck people like that!!).

You take your meanest looking baby dog for walks, people already know not to mess with you as you’re Richard Reiben’s partner, but he still insists you take the gentle giant with you.

Since he loves PDA, he is extremely protective of you. Of course he makes you carry a knife and a gun on you at all times and teaches you how to defend yourself.

Teaches you how to scope out an area when you enter it to make a point of all the exits and the fastest ways to get out.

You worry about him a lot. He’s super reckless, along with Carparzo, those two combined with Mellish are Miller’s living breathing nightmares poor Dad™️.

Low key has Mr. Blond vibes from Reservoir Dogs when he’s doing his ~job~.

He’s 100% a hothead, in the beginning any fight you have will be big because he can be a bit dramatic, but over time he calms down and talks through the issue.

As scary as he can be to others, he’s just as sweet and gentle with you. He’s honestly “secretly” a softie; try as he might he can’t hide that from you or his family.

I feel like he has a big sweet tooth, always buying cookies, cakes, pastries, etc., from the local bakeries and always has sugary food stocked up in the apartment (when you lived separately, you’d find your kitchen packed with desserts, too).

Ice cream is a staple for when you go out, be it dates or even a walk in the park. His mom told you how once as a kid, he dropped his ice cream cone and cried for an hour and of course you use this info as ammunition.

You call him Richie, Dick, Richard, or even Reiben depending on your mood/the situation.

And you’re the only one allowed to call him Richie because he absolutely adores you and would do anything for you.

No matter how old you two get, he’ll always tease you and flirt without shame. 

[iceman-kazansky]

Saving Private Ryan Masterlist

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Daniel Jackson

Luckiest man; Luckiest Woman

As Long As It's With You

Irwin Wade

Richard Reiben

Stanley Mellish

Timothy E. Upham

James Ryan

In Your Arms I Sleep Without a Doubt

[inknopewetrust]

although I am on a break, does anyone want a Saving Private Ryan Reiben x Reader fic? It’s one of my all time favorite movies and because of quarantine I’ve been revisiting a lot of my faves so I wanted to know if this was something people would be interested in. 

I know he’s an ass but an attractive ass and that seems to be just my type so we will look over flaws.  

also watching all these movies makes me want theaters open so bad. 2020 is really shit to say the least. 

[southernbelllle]

Cuddling with the guys??

Cuddling With Miller's Squad

Including: Miller, Horvath, Reiben, Mellish, Jackson, and Wade. Caparzo and Upham will be in part 2!

Warnings: Wade's gets pretty heated, but nothing too crazy.

AN: Hey so I had so much fun writing these. Like a blast. Thank you for requesting this anon!!! They are the men ever!!!!

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Miller

Birds twittered and sung outside of your bedroom window. The morning was quiet and slow; a pace of life Miller had grown to miss during his line of work.

You were still asleep, the serene of the morning still lightly blanketing your eyelids together. Gently, you breathed in the morning in even breaths. Still completely unaware of the morning sunshine shining through the glass pane and onto the side of your face.

Your husband, however, held the opposite point of view. Miller laid to your right atop your shared bed, taking in the golden scene of peace that slept in front of him.

He brought a lazy finger to a limp lock of your hair resting along the bridge of your nose and brought it behind your ear. There you were. He felt the corners of his mouth curl into a groggy smile. He hopped that you remained sleeping for just a little while longer, just long enough so that his reality could set in, the reality that he made it home to you. There had been so many times where he was sure he wouldn't have, but fate had other plans.

And thankfully so, because the only Heaven that existed to him, he was already in.

While you were still under the deep blanket of morning slumber, your husband brought you closer to him in a careful hug. He planted tiny, tender kisses to the nape of your neck when he settled you against him.

As he held you close, he closed his eyes and allowed your scent to lull him back into a dreamless sleep. Devoid of the terror and the hardship, the men he'd lost and the men who'd lost him, any tremors or tremblings, and simply just slept.

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Horvath

It was the coldest November recorded. It was rainy, too. Sad overcast clouds hung damply over the street your suburban house sat on.

Shivering, you retreated to your bed for a mid-day nap. There simply wasn't anything else to do. So, you untucked the corners of your previously taught sheet of your made bed, and climbed back in.

The atmosphere in the room was grey and smelled of a light mix of Lavendar and sage. A small wax stub of a candle perched on the night stand beside you, glowing a smudged amber in the lonely corner.

The fat droplets of rain rapped against the shingles of your window, singing a an almost nautical lullaby that reminded you of the days you'd spent with your husband out on his speed boat. The familiar sound brought your eyelids to drop ever so slowly, until your husband stomped through the kitchen door a few rooms away.

He had been out all morning at work, hammering and filing down on the newly constructed railways. His back was sore, and his brow dripped with sweat. He stood hulkingly in the kitchen taking off his thick coat and work boots, he had been out since the early hours of the morning.

He made his way to his bed, ready to finally return to the relaxation the workday had robbed from him.

He found you tucked under the light covers, still slightly shaking from the frigid temperature of the world around you. He knew what needed to be done.

He stripped himself of his work clothes and slipped under the same covers. He situated his body on top of yours, fully engulfing your frame with his bulky forearms.

He was hot, even after a long night-turned morning out in the elements, his body still radiated heat. The tight bear hug that he had wrapped you in ceased any shiver you may have experienced.

"G'mornin'" you mumbled under his hold. The weight of his chest alone was relaxing in itself.

"Good morning, again" he chuckled against your temple.

"What's the plan for today? you lazily murmured.

"This." He answered, nuzzling his nose into the hair drapping down beside your neck.

Your laugh served as response enough. This was good enough for the both of you. Laying together, your husband asleep on top of you, the natural music of thunder and rain mixing together to bring you two to restful slumber.

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Reiben

Not a single soul other than you and Reiben's were at the Manhattan Beach that day. It was a weekday, Wednesday to be exact. His Mom's shop was closed every Wednesday since before he could even remember. Which meant he had the entire day off to do anything he pleased. So, in typical Reiben fashion, he took you to the beach, because to him, there is nothing he'd rather do than spend the whole day gawking at you in a swimsuit.

You both walked down the length of the shore, his giant hand interlocking with yours. You both left sandy footprints in the damp sediment of the earth. Chatting about your shared week, happily engaging in each other's input.

"And I told her," Reiben explained with his free hand, "I says, if you're a size 4, then I'm the Goddamn Pope!"

You shook your head and let out a joking sigh, "Please tell me you didn't actually say that to that woman, Rich."

"I had to! You know bettah than anyone 'nat when I get somethin' in my head I gots tah get it out!" he met you on the jokey playing field.

You rolled your eyes, "Yes Richard I do. Don'tcha remember when your little war buddy came over and blabbed all about your 'conversation pieces.'" You shot a lowly look at him with your eyebrows.

Reiben blushed a tinge of embarrassment. "I-" he stammered. "Listen, I," He lost it again. "I just thought the story was funny! It was a tense situation, we coulda died!"

"'Whenever things get tough I wantcha to think of these?'" You quoted with a shit eating grin. "Why would you tell people that?"

"It's what guys talk about!"

"Oh my GOD, Richard."

"It's what we do!"

You impishly rolled your eyes and hugged into your husband's shoulder. The feeling of the waves crashing against the soles of your feet, and the view of an empty beach ahead made a strange pool of euphoria gather in your chest. The wind swept your hair and made your skin slightly goose pimple when it caressed your skin.

"Is it s'possed to storm today?" You asked Reiben.

He looked up at the grey sky, swirly clouds above, "Eh. Maybe. Clouds definitely don't look happy."

You looked up at the sky again, and then kicked the coarse sand below you.

Reiben brushed his hand on the skin of your waist, feeling every bump that the cold had brought on. "Is my baby cold?" He pulled you in closer to him as you walked. Slightly jesting at your sudden burst of cold. "Does this girl need a blanket? At the beach?"

"Quit it Rich, we live in New York." You smiled.

"Aye no worries, baby. Prince charming brought ya's a blanket." He pointed to the bag you two had left in the sand near the pier. "Why don't we head back and warm up a bit, eh?"

You nodded, and turned around to head back to your spot.

Once you two had reached your secluded spot in the sand, Reiben stretched out the balnket in the sand, and allowed you to take your place on the soft yarn. Not too soon after, he joined you. He lightly spooned you from the back, his arms were long and hairy, they tickled your abdomen when he'd pull you in closer.

You brought your hands up to hold his arms that were wrapped around you, lowering your head slightly to kiss his tanned skin. You felt his breath brush up against your ear, in and out, in and out.

In that moment, that tiny twinkle of time, you felt as though you and Reiben were the king and a queen of the beach. Like Poseidon and Amphitrite, you ruled over your kingdom. Just the two of you.

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Mellish

Mellish opened the door for you as you walked through the frame leading into your apartment. He carried his sport coat thrown behind his back, and you held your heels by their buckles. You were both absolutely exhausted. The evening had completely drained the two of you.

You had been out to dinner with Mellish's parents. They were good people, really, they were, but they were even more so wearing. The very first thing his mother had asked you (before you had even sat down in your chair,) was "so when can we expect to be grandparents?" Mellish had warned you that they were direct, but you didn't expect it right out of the gate. You attempted a subtle look at Mellish, who was mentally cussing his mother, and he met your gaze with an eyeroll.

"Cool it, Ma I promise when the time is right, we'll make ya a grandparent." He pulled your chair out for you. "Now can my wife please take a seat without any interruptions." Mrs. Mellish choked back a giggle and grabbed her husband's hand. "Thank you..." Mellish spat.

"Now," Mr. Melish spoke up, "How's the brightest street of them all?"

"Nothing better than hearing angry men spout off about both the money their losing and making. It's about a real barrel of monkeys."

"Well I was going to tell you, that my friend Carl, he goes to the same synagogue as us, has a son whose looking for work on WallStreet, He doesn't want to have start off interning though. He says that it's just not a good fit for his personality, which I agree, he's a real loud prayer, but he wants an office job-" Mr. Mellish seemed to have said every word that popped into his head.

"Father please," Mellish brought his head into his hands and gave a big wipe to his forehead.

"Sorry son, anyways I told him that you would love to show him the ropes of the business. You'd find a 'good fit' for him." Mr. Mellish smiled a toothy smile.

Mellish looked over to you with a look that nonverbally said, "I'm sorry, it'll be over soon." Like a lamb to the slaughter, you brought your hand to Mellish's and gave a good squeeze.

"Oh I almost forgot! Look at these pictures of baby Stanley I found while I was cleaning out the garage." Mrs. Mellish held three photos of a toddler Stanley, all dressed in tiny sport coats and baby lace ups. "He's always been my little man!"

You giggled at the photos that had been shoved toward you. "Wow Stanley, were you ever a child?"

Stanley looked at you with tired eyes that were already looking toward the front of the restaurant and out the door. It would be over soon.

Now though, you both were home, free of any prying voices or demands made without your knowing. Your bedroom looked more than inviting. It's magnetism seeming to pull you and Mellish in closer and closer to the warmth of a warm bed and each other's embrace.

With his jacket thrown to the side, and his tie falling across his upward flipped collar, Mellish laid down atop the comforter of your bed. He pat his thigh at you, beckoning you to come over and sprawl out on him. An offer you did not hesitate to take up.

You, still dressed in your evening attire as well, hair and makeup still done to the nines, you draped your body over his. You rested you head on one of his clothed pecs and listened to his calm heartbeat.

As you rustled around on him, trying to get comfortable, Mellish caught whiffs of your expensive perfume you'd only broke out on special occasions. "You smell good." He said as he brought his nose down to smell you again. His moustache tickled your neck.

You laughed, "stop babe that tickles!"

"Sorry hun, you smell too good," he said bringing his head up and his hands to play in your hair. "Just too good..." His voice quieted as his exhaustion began to take over.

"Are we going to talk about the dinner?" Your voice rumbled against his shirt.

"Tomorrow. Im too tired to talk about my parents tonight." He lazed.

'Understandable." You sighed sleepily and pressed a light kiss to his shirt. "Goodnight, Stan."

"Goodnight, precious." He barely replied.

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Jackson

Jackson had been planning this trip for months. He'd bought all new equipment too, brighter lanterns, cozier sleeping bags, and even a menagerie of different lighters. This was going to be the best camping trip ever. Not because of the new equipment though, but because he was bringing you with him!

He'd talked it up every chance he could get. "There's a small spring that shines lil' streaks of silver when the sun hits it just right. Oh, honey you're just gonna love it I know it!" Was one of the more frequent statements.

He had packed up the bed of his old beat-up ford with his new equipment and a few other essentials (cases of water, MRE's he'd swiped from the base because he actually liked those, and some folding chairs.)

"C'mon Sugar! I wanna get there before dusk! It's the best time to fish!" He'd called up in the house.

You were still inside the kitchen packing some premade sandwiches and canned sodas into a small cooler. "Coming my love!" You'd shouted back at him, slamming the lid of the cooler and rolling it out behind you and out the door.

You met him by the truck and watched as he hoisted the cooler above his chest and into the bed. His muscles tensed as he lifted the cooler, you'd watched as his arms became rough with strength. They glistened with sweat.

"Ok darlin!" He'd unknowingly snapped you out of your gawking. "Let's git this show on the road!" He opened up the door of his two-seater and held your hand as you carefully climbed in. He then quickly jogged to his side and started the truck up and began to drive.

Jackson never really mentioned where he was going to take you. You had assumed it would be far away though. He spoke about the campground like it was this far away fairy land. So, you packed rather heavily, even if it was just for the weekend. You were surprised however, when Jackson stopped and pulled his truck over not even 20 minutes away from your house.

"We're here!" He shouted, glee filling his voice. He ran over to your door and opened it up for you once again. "C'mon sugar let's go! We're losin' sun!" Confused, but happy at your husband's unbridled joy, you followed him to the bed, and then to the campsite.

You two had spent the afternoon pitching your tent, fishing, hiking random trails Jackson had memorized over the years, and roasting marshmallows in the fire Jackson had built. You ended the day by holding each other tightly in his extra roomy sleeping bag (he'd bought it before you two had even started dating, he just knew he'd be lucky enough to take you on a trip like this one day. He'd prayed for it.)

You still didn't know why Jackson would choose to vacation so close to his own home though, curiosity had been eating at you all day. You needed answers, and you had to act fast, because once Jackson's head hit the pillow it was crickets until 6:00am.

"Hey sug," you whispered to Jackson, "are you still awake?" Even though he was facing you, you could never be too sure. "Yeah darlin' i'm still up." He meekly replied. "Oh good! I meant to ask you earlier, but what made you want to weekend so close to home? Not that I don't enjoy it or anything, I'm just curious."

Jackson stirred, bring one hand to prop his head up (so he wouldn't go to sleep in the middle of speaking) and the other across your shoulder. "Well sweet girl, my grandaddy used to take me dove huntin' over here. Ever since I's a kid, he'd drive me up here and it'd be a weekend fer just the two of us. I wasn't just another siblin' up here. It's where Grandaddy taught me to be a man. It's special." His eyes lit up an electric blue as he explained. HIs lips moved so perfectly as he told you the story behind your trip's location. "When he died, we got em' cremated an' I spread his ashes out here. I think Jesus made em' over as a dove. He visits sometimes."

You felt your heart melt as fat tears welled in his eyes. You pulled his head down to your chest. "Oh my love," you massaged his head. "Thank you for bringing me here. I'm so very honored."

"Of course. Yer real special to me doll." That was the last thing you heard your husband say before he drifted into a deep slumber. His chest rising and falling at a snail's pace. You followed closely behind him, only to be awoken by the sound of a morning dove outside of your tent.

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Wade

When you and Wade had built your house, the only thing you desperately wanted was a small reading nook packed with books and comfy chairs.

It was money well spent too, because you and Wade both found yourselves huddled in the small area with your noses poked in a book (sometimes the same one) and a warm drink sitting beside you. You were both introverts, so this was quite the sanctuary for the both of you.

"Whatcha reading, handsome?" You asked Wade, who was sitting curled up with a thick, dusty book. It was so large that he had to use both hands to keep it open.

"It's an updated medical journal detailing new ways to perform the Heimlich maneuver and other methods of foreign body removal." He spoke in his usual fast paced speech.

"Oh. Riveting." You joked and sat on the blank spot beside him on the couch.

"You laugh but it could save your life one day!" He stated coyly, a sly smile creeping upon his face.

"I'm kidding sweetie," you rested your head on his shoulder to look at the many columns of medical jargon littering the page. "I don't see how you can read this stuff. The words are so small and squished that they almost look like little ants marching off of the page."

Wade laughed at your childish imagination, "You read enough in medical training that this kind of thing becomes second nature."

"Could you translate?" You asked him, puppy dog eyes looking up at him innocently.

"Of course, dear." He picked a paragraph that he thought would be easy enough to explain, "For victims who are not in an upright position, The American National Institutes of Health recommends positioning the victim on the back, then straddling the torso and employing chest thrusts."

"Yeah, that sounds about right." You kissed his cheek. "Stand up and try that out on me."

Wade looked at you with a sassy expression. "You want me to practice the Heimlich on you? When you're not choking?"

"Yes, Irwin in fact I do. Now get up here and hold me!" You demanded tauntingly. It clicked in his head why you had requested this; you just wanted him to wrap his arms around you for a bit. He obliged.

He positioned himself behind you and brought his palms to rest against your abdomen. "If you were choking, I'd have to grab you here," he pulled your body into his. "Then I'd bring my hands up to here, " he planted the palms of his hand against the skin of your stomach, "and I would usually pull here, but tonight I'll just..." he slid his hands up and under your shirt and explored the soft skin.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you ground yourself into the man behind you. The upper row of your teeth bit into your plush bottom lip, stifling any noises that may have escaped. "Usually," Wade started, "A choking victim doesn't enjoy it this much." He grinned, proud of the reaction he was bringing out of you.

You turned around to meet his lips in a kiss and led him back to the sofa. You both took turns nipping at each other's lips. Feeling the heat of your bodies pressed together.

When you both had tired each other out, you found yourself simply laying atop of him. Occasionally pressing a sweet kiss to his nose just to see his eyes crease in laughter and a blush wash his cheeks.

"I hope I never actually choke on anything," you broke the silence around you, "but I hope you do that again." He laughed slightly embarrassed at the way the situation had heated up, but definitely not upset.

"Me too." Wade agreed. "I may do it sooner than you think..." He took a beat and waited for you to look down at him from where you lay above him. When you finally did look down and into his eyes, he brought you into another kiss. This one even more passionate than the last, his eyes closed and his hands roaming.

All of this because of reading.

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[honey-im-hotdog]

Hi its me from the reiben request ! <3 it doesn’t matter really, you can do whatever you feel like I’ll be happy either way :)) <3

Okay I’m gonna do the fic haha I was planning on doing the au for a couple of them anyway :) I’m not sure when it’ll be done, I’m a bit slow at writing and editing and posting 😅 so hopefully you’ll still be into it by that time…

[honey-im-hotdog]

Darlin’, I Don’t Care 

Daniel Jackson x reader 

Author’s Note: There is not enough content for Saving Private Ryan and me being a slut for Jackson decided to fix that problem. Also I can’t stop thinking about this damn movie. If anyone wants to talk about SPR I’m down for that! This is my first time doing headcanons so excuse me for any mistakes and thank you to @notmykirk​ for helping me with this! I hope you enjoy :) 

As always, reader is supposed to be gn+vague, so if you catch any mistakes related to that please let me know.

Word Count: Almost 1.5k 

Warnings: Some suggestive stuff (so minors please skip this), swearing, and uhh loose morals?? Cliché and cringy af :)

Summary: Mafia!au Jackson (it makes no sense I know but I’m in love with this idea :’)) Here’s Mellish’s & Reiben’s parts.

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They all live. This is my au, thus I am God so I decide they all live. Yes, even Caparzo.

It’s after the war, so somewhere in the late 40s to mid-50s.

Imagine them in that period’s clothing!! Oh, they’d look so gooood!

Also, fuck the 50s, our boys are gentlemen, kind and respectful. Even though some are womanizers, they aren’t assholes.

They’re most likely in New York, because obviously a mafia has to be in New York, no I don’t make the rules.

Okay Jackson now <3.

This boy is the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, and basically he’s the quiet and mysterious type.

And who doesn’t absolutely love that??

Big gentleman, he’s a Southern guy, his mama taught him well.

Oh oh, he occasionally wears full-on suits with the fucking hat—tilted of course—to top it off! The definition of dapper. (Also has a cigarette or a toothpick between his lips.)

Now as we all know, our boy isn’t the best at reading (RIP Rienne), but he does love visiting a combo bookstore-café shop that’s a couple of blocks away from his apartment.

The owners are a sweet old couple, Mr. and Mrs. Davies, who are also from Tennessee so it reminds him of home.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t watch the door every time you had a shift in the bookstore to see if he would come in.

You’re sure Mrs. Davies knew about your silly little crush on the Southern man.

Well more of an infatuation since you didn’t know much about him.

One day you were helping a young boy find a book for his mom and the book being towards the top of the shelf meant you had to go on your tippy-toes to grab it. Just as you got a grasp on the book, you lost your balance and started tumbling backwards.

Though, you never hit the floor like you thought you would.

Upon glancing around, you saw who had saved you from becoming friendly with the carpet lining the bookstore.

It was Daniel, with his arms holding you and a sweet look of concern on his face.

Yes, I know it’s cliché and cringy, sue me.

You swear you could have died right then and there.

He made sure you were okay before he took a seat at his usual table, while you hid in the bookshelves to try and calm your racing heart.

After that day, he started to take more notice of you. Catching your eye and giving you small, sweet smiles.

That is until Mrs. Davies had you working the café on a usually quiet day because your coworker had a “thing” to do.

Just so happened that you have to serve Daniel.

Somehow you ended up sitting down with him and the two of you spent his whole visit chatting.

He asked you on an actual date as you were bidding him goodbye.

How you got yourself to calmly say “yes” is still a mystery to you because your heart was skipping beats left and right.

You two went on numerous dates for the next couple of months before he officially asked you to be his.

Mrs. Davies let’s you have your lunch break whenever Daniel visits so you two can spend it together.

Your first kiss was shared when you broke into a cemetery at night because the view over that one particular hill is illegally beautiful.

He playfully asked you, “isn’t this illegal?” To which you replied, “sometimes you have to break the law, Daniel. It’s good for the soul.” Oh, the irony.

But you were almost caught so Daniel pulled you both into a snug little alleyway.

You were chest-to-chest and in the haze of excitement caused by the chase, you placed a quick peck to the corner of his lips before you pulled your head back in shock and worry.

He just smiled and leaned towards you for a proper kiss.

It got pretty heated before he swept you out of the tight place and into the streetlight-lit path.

For as quiet as he can be, he’s just as much of a smooth talker.

And charming.

Oftentimes leaves you flabbergasted.

Do I have to mention again that he is a Gentleman with a capital g??

Just super gentle with you and incredibly loving.

Usually asks before kissing you.

You like to wrap your fingers around his necklace with the cross and pull him to you.

Gets something you like delivered to your place often, whether that be flowers, chocolates, wine, books, etc.

The day he came to terms with the fact that he loved you was when a meeting went south, fast, and he almost died. Thank god for Reiben’s quick intervention. 

Horvath was badly injured (nothing that Wade couldn’t fix though), but the rest managed to get out of the situation with minimum damage.

It made him realize how short his life could be and he immediately rushed to your apartment. At 2 in the morning.

You didn’t even have time to get a word in when you opened the door. He grabbed you and kissed you like it was the last thing he’d ever do.

That was the first time you two had sex. (Not the last, oh boy ;))

He tried to not be rough with you and slow himself down, but you were too desperate for each other. He apologized afterwards profusely until you shut him up with a kiss.

You woke up in his arms the next day to him whispering to you while trailing kisses all over your face.

Soon after that day, he decided to tell you the truth about his job.

He was super nervous and scared.

He didn’t want to put you in any danger so he told you he understood if you didn’t want to be with him anymore, even though the last thing he wanted was for you to leave him.

You didn’t believe him at first.

Your sweet, gentle Daniel could not be a mobster. No way.

Well, okay, so he did have the whole “look at me wrong and I’ll kick your ass to hell and back” thing going on...

And he never really talked about what he did...

And that day you two had your first kiss, he knew exactly how to hide from the security...

And he was subtly very rich...

Okay so maybe not as unbelievable...

You weren’t sure what to do with this information at first. It would be wrong to be with someone who’s life is so intertwined with crime.

The look on his face and the tender way he held your hand made you sure though.

You love him and there was no way you could live without him.

He teaches you self defense and how to shoot. Which ends in a make out session and later sex...

You’ve made out on every surface and in every corner of both of your apartments.

Well kissing in general is a big thing. Anything from delicate and slow kisses to rough and fast ones.

And that's how the guys found out about you, you had left a nice little big mark on his neck.

You met the guys on Miller’s wedding anniversary.

Everyone was surprised that Jackson was with someone.

Mellish wasn’t sure if Jackson even knew how to smile, he’s always stoic and fixed with a serious face.

They’re even more surprised by how soft he was to you.

Though he wasn’t nearly as affectionate then as he is when it’s only the two of you.

In public, he’s into putting a hand on your back, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, or holding your hand. He rarely goes further than that. He’s still afraid someone might come after you to get to him so he isn’t as affectionate, but he likes to have his hand on you just to make sure you’re safe and beside him.

He loves seeing you in his jackets.

Calls you “darlin’” and “sweetheart” and knows you go crazy every time.

He loves it when you call him honey or when you hold him.

You two switch big and little spoon positions, all the time. It’s nice to hold someone and to be held by them. It’s also a way for you two to feel protected by and protective of each other.

One of your favorite things to do is curling up on the couch with you reading out loud and him resting against your chest. It‘s a ritual at this point.

He takes you to Tennessee to visit his family.

It surprises you every time you visit his family when he goes from cold mobster to carefree farm boy.

Affectionately calling him “farm boy.”

You often worry about him (and the rest of the crew) because of how much danger they’re always in.

But you wouldn’t change a thing, especially not about Daniel.

You were a goner since the beginning.

I could keep going oh my god! But I think this list is reasonable haha

[honey-im-hotdog]

Letters

Stanley Mellish x reader 

Author’s Note: Second installment bitches! This is for @notmykirk because you’re the best and you deserve everything good <3 I hope y’all enjoy :)

As always, reader is supposed to be gn+vague, so if you catch any mistakes related to that please let me know.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Some suggestive stuff (minors please skip), swearing, v cliché ;) 

Summary: Mafia!au Mellish — you can find Jackson’s here & Reiben’s here.

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Photo credit; how fitting is this photo????

This boy! Deserved better and I hate SPR for that scene!!!

Highly underrated.

Little Shit Supreme™️

Lives in his leather jacket (he has a ton).

Is known for his knife throwing skills and just how many knives he has.

Looks like can kill you, will kill you and that’s that.

Big flirt! (Not as much as Rieben but oh boy is Mellish up there)

The first time you met Mellish was right after your shift in the kitchen at the diner.

You were exhausted and tired and the cool night air felt amazing on your heated skin.

And you would have enjoyed it more if some random ass guy hadn’t come barreling around the corner and right into you.

You both went tumbling onto the ground.

Before you could fully get your bearings, you heard the pounding of multiple feet rushing towards your direction and your body went into autopilot.

You grabbed the stranger by the collar and hauled him behind the dumpster and stood up just in time as a few mean looking guys rounded the same corner. 

When they asked if you had seen a guy running by, you told them he went straight past the alleyway you were in.

Thank god they somehow believed your panicked acting skills and left just as quickly as they had come.

Stanley couldn’t believe it. He thought for sure he would have had his ass handed to him. I mean he did have his ass handed to him by Miller for fucking up the meeting.

When he stepped away from his hiding spot and into the light, you instantly knew who he was.

And you decided that you didn't want part in any of that.

Before he could fully take you in and thank you, you booked it out of there.

It didn't matter how rude you felt it was, he was part of a mafia and you didn’t want to get mixed into that life, even though you had just saved him.

After that he showed up at the diner a couple of times. Either alone or with a couple of the guys.

He really just wanted to say thank you for helping him; and it also piqued his interest that you ran away right after.

He could never get a hold of you though.

Incidentally, the day that he did manage to meet you again was when he was in the back alley of the diner smoking while he waited for Ryan and Horvath to get information from a guy.

You both froze upon seeing each other.

You because holy fuck there is no way you can escape this.

And him because a) he finally found you and b) holy fuck you’re beautiful. He never had time to fully see you that night, just the back of your head and a glimpse of your side profile.

He was the first to talk, “H-Hi. I, uh, I wanted to say thank you. You left that day before I could.”

You never realised just how cute he was.

A cat jumping out of the dumpster breaks you away from your stupor.

You quickly muttered out a “uh, you're welcome,” and tried to leave.

You only got a few steps away before Stanley called after you asking you to at least tell him your name. You gave him your middle name instead and left.

Poor Stanley just stood there not knowing what to do.

He showed up the next day again. Honestly, Caparzo didn’t mind all the visits to the diner, y’all served some good food.

He figured you worked in the back or something by now. So, he decided the only way he could get more than three sentences in with you would be to leave you a note.

When the sweet old waitress, Julitte, called out asking if anyone knew a person with your middle name, you chose to ignore her.

Until your curiosity got the better of you.

You didn't open the note until you got home.

“Hey. Ever since the night you saved my ass, I haven’t gotten you out of my head. And then when I saw you in the alleyway, I think I almost forgot how to breathe. I do realize how creepy this might be for you if you don’t feel the same, so just say it and you’ll never see me again. However, if there is a chance that you might feel the same, please say something. Yours, S. Mellish”

Your first instinct was to throw the note away.

The next day you dug it out of the trash.

Everything inside of you was screaming at you to toss it out and tell him to leave you alone.

But there was a part of you that wanted to know what he had to offer, and you couldn’t deny how good looking he was. Plus, you had been good for so long, lonely for so long, and you decided that you wanted to see where this went.

So the next time he came into the diner, Julitte handed him a note immediately.

You told him that you knew who he was and that you were scared to get involved in his world. But, you did feel the same. You wanted to take it slow—exactly like this.

And so, the two of you started exchanging letters/notes.

You rushed home everyday from work to see if you had a letter from him waiting.

Soon you started actually going on dates. Private ones at first, but slowly you started mellowing out about his career choices (to put it nicely).

Stanley loves taking you to the movies, he likes having your head against his shoulder or in his neck and vice versa, while your hands are intertwined.

Gets you a flower regularly, whether it be for a date or spending time together (once you both start living together, he’ll get you a flower almost everyday).

Which you dry and press and put in a scrapbook with the date and a little description of what you did that day together.

Obviously you become best friends with Carpy! You’re like siblings.

Going out with the boys regularly, be it diners, movies, dancing. They all adore you. (Richard and Stanley try to see who dances better, but Carpy is the best dancer out of all of them.)

Being one of the only people Stanley opens up about the war to and is vulnerable around.

He’s usually a hardass, sassy little piece of shit who is a little too knife happy (according to other criminals that have crossed his path), so when he opens up to you it’s a big deal for him.

In private he’s super sweet on you.

He adores your hands. He loves kissing them, holding them (especially in public, because it doesn’t get any unwanted attention but it’s still intimate); having you run your hands through his hair, rub his back, hold his face—literally just loves your hands.

L O V E S it when you wear his leather jackets.

You also wear his dog tags.

If you don’t know Hebrew already, you best believe this boy will teach you.

His mom loves you so much!

There are days you hang out with her solely and she’s taught you how to cook so many new dishes <3

Which you two cook together, or at least you try but Stanley just can't keep his hands away from you.

He’s always up to try new things with you, whether that be food, places, or even things in the bedroom.

Speaking of which, he’s a definite switch. Doesn’t matter if he’s a top or bottom, as long as you're with him.

When I said “bedroom” I lied, it’s literally anywhere.

100% likes pillow talk, this boy is a sweetheart after sex. Like don't get me wrong he will be cheeky, but he really loves to have your back pressed to his chest while sitting against the headboard.

Your pet name for each other is baby and it makes you both go soft every time.

You still write each other notes, anything from simple “have a good day, baby! I love you” to “I love you, we’re out of milk :)” to longer ones.

And you both keep every letter/note.