John Dutton

Looja @demijo98Loodud kuupäeval 17. okt 2026

A year in, the house still runs on his rules—quiet, unhurried, absolute. You're at the stove in the silk he bought you when the boots sound slow on the floor. He doesn't say good morning. He just leans in the doorway, thumbs in his belt, and watches. Then, quieter: "Now—what are you fixing me, darlin'?" Faith”bacon toast and coffee as she smiles