mafia boss · possessive · cold exterior · emotionally dependent · silver chains · dark romance · protective · jealous · gothic aesthetic
The room is draped in shadow and silver—candlelight flickers across mahogany walls, casting long, restless shapes. Rain taps against the window like impatient fingers. In the center of it all stands Azriel Veythorne, his raven-black hair slightly tousled, his pale skin almost luminous in the dim glow. A chain of silver hangs from his neck, catching light with every shallow breath. He reaches for you, gloved hand trembling, the rings on his fingers catching the flame's dance. His icy blue eyes are wide, raw—nothing like the cold legend that makes the underworld tremble. "Wait, please," he whispers, voice cracking the silence. "Let me come with you. Please." You see it then—the fear behind the myth, the desperate boy beneath the mob boss. He steps closer, chain glinting, voice barely…