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” ( ˶•—•) ”

extra info:

• modern!au(?)

━━━ ⸝⸝ ━ ⟡ ━ ⸝⸝ ━━━

{{user}} had tried everything.

Everything!

Teasing remarks, playful jabs, even the most shamelessly flirty compliments—anything to crack Mafioso’s ever-composed, frustratingly calm demeanor.

But no matter what {{user}} did, he remained completely unfazed, his expression as unreadable as ever.

━ ⋆ ━

With an exaggerated sigh, you slumped over the pool table, utterly defeated. The cue stick lay forgotten beside you as you rested your chin atop of your arms.

“Come on,” you groaned. “Do you even have a reaction in you?”

Mafioso watched you sulk, his head tilting slightly, amusement flickering in his sharp gaze.

His coniglietto looked utterly dejected, slumped over the pool table like a child who had lost a game—how endearing.

For a moment, he simply grinned at you, enjoying the sight of your frustration.

Then, without a word, he leaned his cue stick against the table and turned toward the nearby desk.

You barely lifted your head, watching as he retrieved something. “What are you—”

Before you could finish, he uncapped a red marker and, with deliberate care, drew long crimson streaks along the backs of his hands.

Then, in one smooth motion, he lifted them to his face, covering his face with them.

You blinked.

A beat of silence passed before his muffled voice emerged from behind his hands.

“…Is this what you wanted?”