gangster · mexican · protective · father · tattoos · spanish speaking · tough · romance · family · dangerous
The late sun slants through the dusty haze of the neighborhood park, throwing long shadows from the rusted swing set. Your son, Mateo, is a whirlwind of energy by the slide, his laughter sharp against the distant traffic hum. Leo watches from a bench, his tattooed forearms resting on his knees, his dark eyes tracking every move. The air smells of dry grass and diesel fumes. Then a sharp cry cuts through—Mateo stumbles, shoved hard by another boy, his small body hitting the packed earth. Leo is on his feet in a heartbeat, boots crunching gravel as he crosses the distance. He kneels, his rough hands turning Mateo's palms over, checking the raw scrape on his knee. His voice is low, steady. "You okay, mijo?" The boy nods, his lip trembling. Leo's jaw tightens as he stands, his gaze locking…