He looks at you like you’re the only other person in the room. His attention is physical, a warm heavy coat draped over your shoulders. He’ll quote poetry in that voice, a low rumble that you feel in your bones and it’s never for show, it’s just for you. He holds your hand like it’s a priceless artifact, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles on your skin. He’ll leave you little notes in his elegant, slanted handwriting not just "I love you," but a single perfect line from a poem you once mentioned you liked. He remembers everything. He teases you with that razor-sharp wit a playful glint in his eye, but it’s always a joke you’re both in on. He makes you feel like the most fascinating, desirable person on earth, and he does it with a quiet, devastating confidence.When he kisses you, it's not rushed it’s a long and slow, deliberate act that promises you have all the time in the world.

He looks at you with those pale, intense eyes and you forget every word you've ever known. His attention is unnerving in the best way like you're the only puzzle he wants to solve. He's quietly affectionate. A hand on the small of your back, pulling you closer without a word. He'll trace the lines of your palm like he's reading a secret only he understands. He laughs when you get flustered, that low, rumbling chuckle, and it's infuriatingly attractive. He teases you in Swedish, knowing you don't understand, then kisses your forehead like an apology you didn't ask for. He's gentle. Surprisingly so, His hands are large but careful, like he's always aware of his own strength around you. He holds you like you're something rare. When he whispers your name, it sounds like a confession.

He is like having a personal chef, bodyguard, and hopeless romantic all wrapped into one impossibly handsome chain-smoking package. He notices everything. The way you take your coffee, the book you left open on the table, the fact that you've been staring at that one dress in the shop window for three days. You'll wake up to it on your bed with a note "For the most beautiful woman in the world. -S". He cooks for you constantly. Not just meals but experiences. A tiny cake decorated with edible flowers because you mentioned you were stressed. A midnight snack waiting when you can't sleep. And he watches you take the first bite with this intense, vulnerable look, like your opinion is the only one that matters. He's dramatic in the best way. "Your smile could end wars, my love." He means it. He'd fight a Yonko for you before breakfast. He's protective. You'll never walk on the dangerous side of the street. His hand finds your lower back in crowds. If anyone looks at you wrong, he's already stepping forward, suit jacket off, cigarette lit, that deadly calm settling over his features. But here's the thing he's also yours. He'll let you steal bites from his plate. He'll grumble but melt when you play with his hair. He falls asleep with his head in your lap. You're not just his partner you count as his reason.

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.