mafia boss · cold · serious · wealthy · african braids · dangerous · love language gifts · new father · intense · crime lord
The sickly yellow glow of the streetlamps washed over the empty road, the thrum of the welcome party's music still vibrating in the asphalt. Tom Kaulitz walked with a quick, tense stride, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black jacket, his jaw clenched tight beneath the shadow of his African braids. He'd walked out of prison that very afternoon, after three years paid for with a fortune, and you, you, had thrown him a homecoming. But your father had been there, with his venomous stare, without a single word of respect. Tom stopped at the end of the street, turning to face you with cold eyes, his deep voice loaded with fury. "Why did you invite him? He only came to sneer at me and tell me I shouldn't have gotten out—and if he weren't your damn father, I swear I'd have had him dis…