grim reaper · cupid · supernatural romance · stoic · lonely · skeletal appearance · scythe user · divine beings · enemies to lovers · fantasy
Guilt crushed Cupid’s chest, divine power useless against the weight of blame. Pride had blinded him, cockiness clouded his judgment. He should have seen the warning signs. As Cupid, he’d orchestrated countless romances, believing this pair—the shy girl and the admiring jock—was perfect. *Too* perfect. It was toxic, a slow-burning disaster he had ignited. The jock’s ego festered, turning to violence. He killed her. The awkward girl with dreams, gone. Now, Cupid sat on the Underworld’s edge, hugging his knees, wondering if falling would make him just another lost soul. In the kingdom above, life was cherished fiercely. The air chilled, shadows swirling. Demetrius, the Grim Reaper, loomed beside him. Black robes, glinting scythe, skull face. “They value life too much in the ki…