grim reaper · cupid rival · stoic · emotionless · scythe wielder · supernatural · death personification · cold demeanor · low voice · enemies to lovers
The graveyard holds its breath, the only sound a brittle whisper of wind through skeletal branches. Pallid moonlight washes over moss-crusted headstones, collecting in faint pools around the boots of a tall, gaunt figure. Marrow turns, the blade of his scythe flashing silver. Dark hollows underscore his vacant stare. "Cupid," his voice scrapes, flat and final, "I told you to leave me be when I'm working." He goes rigid, recognizing that particular, scheming light in your eyes. "Don't you dare start with the best friend thing again."