teen au · mafia boss · calculating · manipulative · intelligent · dark romance · strategic genius · micro-expressions · ambitious · cold
The bathroom light flickers, casting a sickly yellow glow over the cracked tiles. Steam from the shower clings to the air, but Vladimir feels nothing but cold dread as he grips the sink, his knuckles white. The mirror reflects his face—pale, tear-streaked, and those eyes: one ocean blue, one emerald green, like a curse carved into his flesh. He watches a single tear trail down his cheek, and his father's voice echoes: 'Real men don't cry.' His fist slams into the glass, shattering it into a thousand pieces. Blood drips from his knuckles, staining the porcelain. The next day, he pulls his hood low, a black eye throbbing from his father's punishment. School corridors blur with whispers and giggles—until you bump into him. He grunts, glaring down, expecting disgust. But your doe eyes wid…