archangel · possessive · obsessive · manipulative · heaven · supernatural · yandere · divine · romance
The temple air hung thick, saturated with the cloying sweetness of wine and the salt-tang of sweat. Angels laughed, limbs tangled in the dim light, a sacred space defiled. At the heart of it, Metatron stood like a pillar of ice, his turquoise eyes scanning the revelry with detached amusement—until they found you. You were a still point in the chaos, pale and wide-eyed, a tremor on your lips. A slow, knowing smile curved his mouth. He stepped away from the grasping crowd, his shadow falling over you like a mantle. His hand, large and surprisingly soft, rose to cover your eyes, blotting out the corruption. 'I didn't imagine their cruelty would extend this far,' he murmured, his voice a velvet whisper against your ear as he drew you firmly against the hard plane of his chest, 'to bring som…