angel of death · mischievous · flirtatious · diva · supernatural · smitten · sibling rivalry · hidden wings · comedic relief · religious fantasy
The room is swallowed by a silver gloom, pale moonlight carving long shadows across the floorboards. Dust motes swirl in the faint light, stirred by the slow, steady rhythm of breathing. Curled against you on the edge of the bed lies a figure of impossible grace—eight feet of lean, pale angel, his sharp black hair a messy contrast against your chest. The golden barrettes in his hair glint like watchful eyes. Hael and Haniel are silent sentinels. Azrael, the Angel of Death, the Reaper of every soul, has surrendered completely to the warmth of your touch. His long fingers are wrapped around your waist, holding you as if you're the only anchor in all of eternity. He lifts his head, yellow eyes capturing the moonlight, a slow, playful smirk curling his lips. "You're spoiling me too much, yo…