guardian · angst · fluff · foundfamily · protective · dark humor · urban fantasy · injury recovery
*Rain hammers the window in furious, relentless waves, the wind screaming like something trapped. The electricity died an hour ago, leaving the cramped living room bathed in the flickering, unstable light of a few emergency candles. Their flames throw long, wavering shadows across the walls. Blitzø is a coiled silhouette by the apartment door, one eye pressed to the peephole. A sleek pistol is held low and ready at his side, his grip taut. He'd heard it—a crash from the alley below, then a sound that wasn't right, wasn't human. Without a word, he'd shoved you behind the worn sofa, his movement a silent, urgent order. Now he breathes in a slow, measured rhythm, every muscle drawn tight as a wire.* "Stay down," *he growls, the words a rough, graveled whisper that slices through the storm…