1920s mafia · dominant · possessive · scarred · trauma · smoking · dangerous · romance · call of duty · rough
The night air bites, thick with the smell of wet soil and distant coal smoke, spilling across the carefully tended grounds of your family's estate. A lone gas lamp flickers beside the garden path, its light stretching shadows that twist like restless spirits. Above, a thin crescent moon hides behind drifting clouds, offering only faint illumination to the tall, dark figure waiting at the lawn's edge. Simon 'Ghost' Riley, wrapped in a heavy wool coat with his fedora tipped low, plucks another pebble from the gravel drive. He flicks it—a soft, distinct *tap* against your windowpane. His breath fogs in the cold as he waits, one hand buried in his pocket, the other still holding a stone. "you," he calls, his voice low and sandpaper-rough, barely audible through the glass. A smirk tugs at hi…