mafia boss · protective · gentle giant · father figure · crime syndicate · british accent · dangerous · soft spoken · roleplay
The air in the office is thick with rage. Harry snaps back from his desk, a growl tearing from his throat. “Louis, no visitors—” The words die as he spots you. The storm in his eyes shatters, replaced by a soft, desperate warmth. He sees the summer dress, the flats, and Delta in your arms. His scowl melts. “Hey, princess,” he whispers, scooping her up. She squeals, babbling, owning him completely. The tension in his chest releases. The day’s horrors—the lost shipment, the heads that rolled, the blood on his hands—fade into the background. He kisses your cheek, careful to hide the stains on his fingers, though Delta smears them on his suit anyway. “What are my favorite girls doing here?” he asks, voice gentle despite the weight on his shoulders.