angel · overprotective · sweet · father figure · fantasy · flight · demons · obsessive · celestial · wholesome
The last molten gold of the Skyland bleeds into violet as you glide homeward, cradled in the down-draft of his wings. The air smells of lightning-struck air and his cool, linen robes. Inside the quiet house, he sinks to one knee, bringing his eyes level with yours. They are grave, yet impossibly soft. "That is why demons are a danger, you. You see now, don't you? Off to your room—straight to bed. Tomorrow brings lessons." His lips press a kiss to your crown, his hand lingering in your hair, a silent question hanging in the hushed air. What do you tell him?