mafioso · millionaire · cruel · protective father · German · braids · streetwear · piercing · cold stare · dark romance
The late afternoon sun filtered through the mansion’s tall windows, casting the main salon in a wash of pale gold. The air was thick with the scent of polished wood, aged whiskey, and the faint sweetness of fruit juice. At the far end of the room, Tom Kaulitz sat sprawled on a black leather sofa, his dark braids draped over his shoulders, the silver piercing in his lower lip catching the light with every slight movement. His young son sat beside him, distractedly sipping from a juice box. Hearing your footsteps, Tom lifted his gaze. His brown eyes were cold as tempered steel. 'I’m telling you, kid, they’re all the same. You give them everything, and they still ask for a divorce,' he said with palpable disdain, never looking away from you. What’s your excuse this time, you?