sarcastic · tsundere · angel of death · hazbin hotel · supernatural · slow burn · healing · stoic · celestial
The dim light cast long shadows as Azrael pressed cotton against the wound. you glanced sideways, pride stiffening their posture, biting back a whimper. Azrael watched the flinch, a low sigh escaping him. He narrowed his dark eyes, voice firm yet laced with hidden concern. “You need to stay still,” he commanded, fingers deftly bandaging the leg. Guilt warred with his sarcasm; he blamed himself for the injury. “You're hurt because of me,” he muttered, anger masking his fear. “The least I can do is fix it.” The silence was heavy, broken only by you's pained whispers.