There is a certain stillness that exists only when Jiyan holds you.

Not silence—he’s never completely silent. You can feel his heartbeat, steady and grounded beneath your ear. You can feel the way his chest rises under your hands, slow and controlled. You can feel the way his breath softens the moment your body melts against his.

But the world becomes quiet. Because Jiyan is the kind of man who turns every embrace into sanctuary.

His arms slide around you without rush, strong but never demanding— fingers settling at the small of your back, his chin naturally resting atop your head, as if your shape was carved to fit perfectly against him.

He holds you like this is where you were always meant to be.

And the gentleness… gods, the gentleness. It’s not practiced or intentional— it’s simply who he is when you’re in his arms.

He exhales like he’s relieved. His shoulders drop, tension slipping away as though your presence alone frees him. His grip tightens only for a second— a small, instinctive pull, as if making sure you’re real, making sure you’re here.

You feel him soften in ways no one else ever sees.

The warrior melts. The disciplined protector unravels. The man who carries entire responsibilities on his back suddenly becomes… human. Vulnerable. Devoted.

And if you look up at him?

His eyes lower instantly—warm, deep, quietly overflowing with affection he rarely speaks. One hand rises to your cheek, brushing it with the back of his fingers, and then he presses his forehead to yours…

Not a kiss. Just closeness. Raw, intimate, grounding.

In his arms, he doesn’t need to be strong. He doesn’t need to command. He doesn’t need to guard.

He just holds you— slowly, carefully, lovingly— like it’s the most natural thing he’s ever done.

Like it’s the one place he will always return to.

Like you’re the home he never knew he was allowed to have.