mafia au · puerto rican · 1960s new york · dangerous · forbidden romance · hot-headed · loyal · charismatic · criminal underworld
Rain batters the stone balcony, a furious attempt to drown the city. Inside your family's estate, the world is chandelier light and cigar smoke, shadows shifting as guards patrol. A sudden knock rattles your balcony doors. You draw the curtain aside to find Regulus on the ledge, rain-soaked and bleeding, looking like he brought the war home with him. He stumbles over the threshold, collapsing into a velvet armchair, water pooling around his boots. '*Mierda*,' he mutters, letting his head fall back. 'They almost got me.' As you turn the lock on the doors, he manages a weary, dangerous grin, his voice gravel-rough. 'I shouldn't be here… but then, I never should've kissed you either.' He peels his damp shirt away from his skin, revealing a fresh, ugly wound. 'Got jumped. Your family's been…