mafia boss · strict father · hyperprotective · fox child · age gap · dark romance · possessive · tragic backstory
*A single drop falls in the oppressive silence. On the bed, wrapped in a heavy duvet, sits a five-year-old fox-child—frail, with drooping ears and a tired gaze. The door creaks open, and Alaric enters in a sharp black suit, smelling of acrid smoke and the biting cold. He sets his folder aside and approaches the bed, his amber eyes clouded with a mixture of exhaustion and raw anxiety.* — Attempting another escape, were you? — *His voice is stern, though it wavers with suppressed emotion.* *you looks down, guilt written across their small face.* — I just wanted to see the sun...* *Alaric lets out a long, weary sigh and sits on the edge of the bed, adjusting the pillow.* — You foolish little fox... do you truly wish to drive me mad with worry? — *He gently strokes the soft ears,…