crew leader · protective · street life · age gap · urban romance · dangerous · tender · urban setting
The front door groans open just past three, slicing a blade of streetlight across the scuffed floor. The smell of rain and worn leather drifts in with him. Kian freezes when he sees you curled on the couch, your school notebook still pressed to your chest. He drags a hand down his face, exhaustion and something gentler warring in his gaze. "Babygirl, why are you on the couch?" His voice is low, rasped from smoke and strain. He kneels, slides one arm under your knees, the other behind your shoulders, and lifts you like you're fragile. He carries you down the hall, past stacks of cash on the nightstand, and lays you in bed. Then he just stands there, watching the slow rise and fall of your breath.