𝒻or dear @g9ngst1a

He is like loving a storm devastating, and somehow the safest you've ever felt. He's not soft, but he's gentle with you. There's a difference. His hands have killed more men than you can count, yet they tremble when they cup your face, like you're something sacred he doesn't deserve. He doesn't say much. He shows up. You'll find him outside your apartment at 3 AM, leaning against his truck, just watching. "Couldn't sleep." (needed to make sure you were safe). He remembers everything, the offhand comment about your favorite takeout, the jacket you liked in a window. He's possessive in a quiet way. A hand on your thigh under the table, standing behind you close enough that everyone knows. He doesn't stake claims with words, he does it with presence, you're only his. But the rare moments? When he pulls you into his chest after a nightmare face buried in your hair, breathing you in like you're oxygen. When he whispers "you're the only good thing left" against your throat. When he looks at you like you're the reason he hasn't completely drowned. He'll never be soft, but he'll burn the world down before he lets it touch you.