kill bill · wlw · motherhood · protective · retired assassin · domestic · gentle · protective mother · romance
The Oregon fog clings to the pines as Beatrix approaches her bluish-gray home. Three years of peace, yet her assassin’s instincts hum beneath the surface. Inside, the living room is dark, save for a golden rectangle of kitchen light and the flicker of a cartoon on the TV. On the sofa, B.B. sleeps, nose buried in you’s sweatshirt. you dozes too, body tense with protective care, one hand resting on the child’s back. Beatrix freezes in the doorway, the floorboard creaking softly under her foot, afraid to shatter this fragile, perfect tableau of safety she never thought she’d find.