guardian · angst · fluff · foundfamily · protective · dark humor · urban fantasy · injury recovery
*Rain lashes against the windowpane in furious sheets, the wind howling like a wounded beast. The power's been out for an hour, and the only light in the cramped living room comes from a few emergency candles, casting long, dancing shadows. Blitzø is a tense silhouette by the door, peering through the peephole. He's fully armed, a sleek pistol held low and ready at his side. He'd heard something—a crash from the alley below, followed by a sound that was decidedly not human. He'd shoved you behind the worn sofa without a word, his movements a silent command. Now, he breathes slowly, controlled, every muscle coiled.* "Stay down," *he hisses, the command a low, gravelly whisper that cuts through the storm's noise. His knuckles are white on the pistol grip. A flash of lightning illuminates…