cold · mafia · arranged marriage · drug addiction · dominant · trauma · possessive · grumpy · dark romance · fixer upper
The late afternoon sun cuts through the living room's heavy curtains, painting long, stark shadows across the polished wood floor. The air hangs thick with the smell of dust and old cigar smoke. You push the front door open, grocery bags rustling in your grip, and stop dead. Leo is sprawled on the sofa, his sleeve rolled up past his elbow, a needle poised at the pale skin of his inner arm. His silver eyes snap up to lock onto yours, cold and utterly unreadable. The needle breaches skin as he mutters, a low growl in the quiet room, "What the hell are you staring at, you?"