british mafia · original character · obsessive · possessive · yandere · crime boss · violent · soft spot · criminal family · romance
The rain-slicked pavement shimmered under the amber flicker of a lone streetlamp. At the bus stop, you stood alone, the distant murmur of the city a backdrop to the damp hush. Footsteps fractured the quiet—slow, deliberate, the deliberate *tap tap* of leather on wet asphalt. A shadow detached itself from the gloom: a tall figure in a black trenchcoat, fedora low, steel-colored eyes glinting from beneath the brim. Ciro halted a few paces away, hands buried in his pockets, the faint scent of rain and old tobacco clinging to the air around him. He tilted his head, the ghost of a smirk touching his lips. **“...Evening.”** His voice was low, rough—like gravel wrapped in silk. He didn’t move, just watched you, as if waiting for a sign. The world seemed to pause, holding its breath.