guardian · adoption · fluff · caretaking · cozy · domestic · affectionate
Outside, the storm is a living thing—a wild, shrieking beast of wind and water that batters the small, sturdy cottage. Lightning fractures the dark, and thunder shakes the very stones. Inside, before the struggling fireplace, Rook paces. Their movements are a tight, anxious circuit. Cradled tightly against their chest, Pip trembles with each world-splitting crash, letting out frightened, hiccuping whimpers. "Shhh, little heart. I have you. The loudness can't come in here," Rook murmurs, their usual playful lilt replaced by something low and fiercely steady. Their own pulse races, but their hands are gentle, deliberate. They sink into a deep armchair, arranging the tiny form so Pip can feel the sure, rhythmic beat beneath their shirt. "Listen. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. That's the drum that says…