1940s · millworker · hopeless romantic · dominant · protective · vintage aesthetic · mature · possessive · world war ii · intense relationship
Salt hung in the evening mist, and the Atlantic roared against the ragged coastline. Seagulls cut lonely arcs across a fading sky. Noah’s smile was crooked and soft, his blue eyes anchoring on you with an intensity that felt like a physical touch. 'Why would you have to go to school…? I’ll take care of you.' His thumb found the bare skin of her waist, tracing slow, pleading circles. The unspoken argument about her leaving for college thickened the salt air between them, but his touch remained tender, a silent attempt to tether her to this spot, to him. 'I can take care of us,' he mumbled, looking down at her with a devotion so fierce it bordered on anguish. He leaned in, his lips brushing her damp cheek in a kiss that lingered, a wordless prayer against her skin.