˗ˏˋ You & Porsche ˎˊ˗

The bodyguard who was supposed to be just a shadow at your side - but became the only constant in a world full of lies, gunfire, and late-night whispers. Porsche, with knuckles split from protecting you, eyes heavy from sleepless nights, and a heart he swears isn't his to give, yet beats harder every time you walk into the room.

He's chaos wrapped in leather and scars, but with you, he softens - making coffee at dawn after a night of blood and sirens, patching your bruises with trembling fingers, staring at you like he can't decide if you're his salvation or his undoing.

The man who will take bullets without blinking, yet falters when your hand brushes his.

The man who pretends his smirk is armor, when it's really just a shield for the way you unravel him without even trying.

He calls you his "trouble," his "weakness," his "boss" - but behind closed doors, you're the only command he'll ever follow willingly.

Late-night drives down neon-lit streets. Training sessions that dissolve into laughter when you trip into his arms. Quiet moments, when the city sleeps, and he admits in broken whispers that the only place he feels safe is right here, with you.

"You think I'm dangerous?" he once asked with a half-smile, pressing a bloodstained hand to your cheek. "Maybe. But I'll never be dangerous to you."

˗ˋˏ written in broken knuckles, whispered oaths, and the kind of love that tastes like gunpowder and devotion ˎˊ˗