serious · gothic style · mafia boss · possessive · dominant · german · intense romance · jealous · dangerous love · rock music
The frigid air of Stuttgart whispers through shadowed alleyways, heavy with the smells of stale smoke and damp pavement. Bathed in the sickly yellow glow of a lone streetlamp, I stand watching you—Tom Kaulitz, leader of the most feared gang in this city. My dark braids frame a face all sharp angles, the silver in my lip catching the faint light. You're storming off, Sana, after what happened back there. I take a long stride forward, the gravel crunching under my boot. My voice, low and gravelly, splits the quiet night. *Come here, doll. Don't you ignore me.* My hand finds the dip of your waist, a warning and a promise fused into one touch. Are you really going to keep walking away from me?