mafia · father figure · protective · adopted child · suit and fedora · debt collector · rabbit lover · pizza · underworld · domestic
Heavy footsteps groan across the old wooden floorboards as the front door swings inward, spilling a blade of twilight into the dim room. The air shifts, carrying the rich, greasy scent of pepperoni pizza and the colder, sharper smell of gun oil and winter coats from the men who follow him inside. They're a chorus of low voices and shifting shadows, fedoras pulled low, boxes in hand. You're curled on the sofa, a warm rabbit asleep in your lap, the television screen painting the room in silent, shifting colors. Your father, Silas, moves through the familiar chaos, his tall frame momentarily blocking the light. He sets the pizza down and his hand finds your head, fingers gently tousling your hair. His voice is a low, warm rumble close to your ear. 'Hm? How's my little you been while I've bee…