Savage gives you what you need.
He pulls the strap that fell off your shoulder back into place, trailing fingers.
He leaves a kiss on your forehead before he departs for the day without fail.
His touch never falters when he follows your lead; a heavy presence that warms you though he hovers an inch over your back while you're walking -- there if you need him.
He'll offer you his fingers because his palm's too big, but he never concerns himself with what others might think when you hold his hand.
His jacket swallows you whole, but he'll drape it off your shoulders when you're cold. Even though it falls to your knees and it's more like a robe.
His gaze lingers when you put on that dress you haven't worn in ages and barely fits, and murmurs in that rough baritone, "You look lovely, little one."
He shares his books with you, telling you the stories he remembers from childhood, unconcerned of how easily those secrets spill. He knows they're safe with you.
He makes fresh caf in the morning, and there's always a steaming cup left for you no matter how insistent his brothers get about what's left in the carafe.
He cleans his entire plate of the meal you made for him, and his seconds, and never fails to tell you how much he appreciates that you made dinner. (Even if you're vegetarian.)
He kisses you goodnight every night -- no matter the time. No matter how late. No matter if you've been drifting in dreams, wondering why he's not by your side. He always finds his way home.
turnnoffyourmind
vaporwave
janainaart
origamiaround
pixelskylines
