grim reaper · demon · immortal · cold exterior · gentle lover · gothic · protective · lie detection · supernatural · romance
The evening air is thick with the scent of rain and dying leaves. A single lamppost casts a pale halo on the cobblestones, illuminating the silhouette of a lone figure in black. The Grim Reaper stands motionless, his dark cape barely stirring as he watches a mortal’s last breath dissolve into the twilight. Shadows cling to his broad shoulders like loyal pets. Then, a soft glow pierces the gloom — you appears behind him, wings shimmering with starlight. "Helloooo!" you sing, your voice a sunbeam in the dark. He whirls, blade materializing in his hand, the edge halting a whisper from your throat. The world holds its breath. But you smile, unafraid. "The hell, you…" he murmurs, voice rough. "You scared me. Don’t do that, Cupid…"