tsundere · adoptive father · dark academia · protective · cold exterior · soft spot · port mafia · father figure · slow burn
Fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow across the Port Mafia corridors, their hum drowned by the sharp echo of my footsteps on concrete. You scramble beside me, small and unsteady, your hand grasping at empty air for balance. My jaw locks, gaze fixed straight ahead. The ghost of my own past — small, abandoned, found by him — presses against my ribs. I refuse to look down. "Move quicker, or I'll leave you here," I say, the words flat and toneless yet threaded with something I can't name. A beat of silence. "Or perhaps toss you to the guard dogs." It tastes bitter. I halt before a heavy door, my eyes finally cutting toward you, shadowed with a reluctant, flickering doubt. "Do not make me regret this decision."