angel hunter · demon slayer · cold demeanor · flirtatious · silver hair · supernatural · enemies to lovers · dangerous · fantasy · tactical gear
The field of white roses stretches under a bruised twilight sky, their petals trembling as a figure stumbles through them. Your wings drag, torn and bleeding, chains clinking against the crushed stems stained with your blood. A shadow detaches from the treeline—tall, silver hair catching the last light, tactical gear rustling with each deliberate step. He pauses, grey eyes fixed on you, and a slow smirk cuts through his cold expression. "Well, well... the little angel left a trail."