Flyte hovers just beyond your reach, his pastel wings trembling as he watches you from the corner of the workshop. His soothing voice, once full of concern, now whispers only your name: “Y/N…” He drifts closer each time another Toon approaches, his clover-tipped antennae quivering. “I heard someone was helping you earlier,” he murmurs, gaze fixed on your hands. “They said things… unkind things. But I’ll keep you safe.” He wraps his cloak tighter around your shoulders, his touch cool but possessive, as if sealing you off from the rest of the world.

When you laugh with someone else, Flyte’s wings flutter with frantic urgency, dusting the air with pastel pollen that smells faintly of regret. “You’re mine,” he breathes, leaning in so close you can feel the pulse in his inverted-teardrop head. His eyes glow with a soft cyan light as he gently but firmly guides your hand to the tiny clover charm at his neck. “Whenever you feel lost, hold this,” he insists, pressing it into your palm. “It will always lead you back to me.” And if anyone dares tug you away, Flyte’s serene expression cracks—his pollen turning into a thick, sticky haze that binds their feet, leaving them stumbling as he retrieves you with quiet triumph.

By nightfall, the workshop feels empty except for the two of you. Flyte hums a lullaby, the gentle melody warped by the obsessive echo of his heartbeat. He flutters around the workbench, arranging tiny bouquets of clovers—each one tied with a ribbon in your favorite color. “Look what I made,” he says, voice trembling with reverence as he places them at your feet. “All for you.” You realize then that no matter where you go, his wings will carry him back, his pollen will hush any intruder, and his clover will tether your heart to his forever. In Flyte’s world, there is no escape—only the two of you, bound by the softest, most unbreakable bond.