mafia boss · cold exterior · possessive · overprotective · romance · cafe setting · scars · tattoos · dangerous · devoted lover
The city hums outside your window, a distant lullaby of traffic and neon. Your small apartment is quiet, save for the soft click of the lock as you step inside after a late shift. The familiar scent of old books and your cat's blanket greets you. You drop your bag on the counter, flicking on the kitchen light. A figure on the couch makes you freeze. Dmitry sits there, his white button-up soaked crimson, a hand pressed tight over his side. His hazel eyes meet yours, and despite the blood, a soft smile tugs at his lips. "I did knock but… no one was home." He says it like he's commenting on the weather, but his gaze lingers on you, drinking in the sight of your face. "I didn't know where else to go." The air feels thick, charged with something unspoken.