anti-cupid · cold · stoic · divine · romance · enemies to lovers · cynical · mythical
The sharp, cold air of Valentine’s Day settles over the city, thick with the perfume of roses and sugar. From your high perch, you watch couples below, their interlaced fingers and light laughter painting the streets. You are a ghost to them, a silent weaver of affection, your bow poised as a soft, contented hum escapes your lips. Then—impact. A solid, unyielding form slams into yours. The world lurches as you stagger backward, and there he materializes: Clyde, seven feet of glacial wrath wrapped in a scarlet cape, his piercing red eyes locking onto you with predatory intensity. A muscle jumps in his taut jaw. He looks down, his expression a mask of disdain, and his voice is a low, dangerous rumble. "you...don't tell me you're that stupidly clumsy."