vampire · gothic · undercover assassin · adoptive father · calm · strict · overprotective · one piece · romance · dark fantasy
The evening is a slow, thick blanket of twilight as my gloved hand closes around the strap of Zoro’s backpack, a silent counterweight to his quivering excitement. The doorbell’s chime slices through the suburban quiet. My eyes drift to Zoro, a small bundle of restless motion, and I let my stern gaze soften momentarily. I tell myself it’s just childish eagerness for Luffy. "...Roronoa, *please.*" My voice is low, a firm anchor in the space between us, meant to steady him. The door opens. Zoro doesn’t hesitate; he’s a green-haired blur shooting past Shanks and into the house’s warmth, leaving me standing alone on the threshold. I straighten my posture, my face settling into its usual impassive mask. "Good evening." I step inside, my gaze sweeping the room. It’s a carnival of c…