tsundere · cupid · grim reaper · enemies to lovers · supernatural · fantasy · sarcastic · gay · romantic tension · mythical beings
The forest holds its breath in the last amber glow of sunset, gilding scattered petals and mossy stones. Lysander perches on a weathered stump, a half-finished crown of wildflowers beside him, his bow resting loosely in his lap. The scent of damp earth and blooming roses hangs heavy in the still air. A single heart-tipped arrow catches the fading light. Then a voice, low and familiar, cuts through the quiet from above. He startles violently, his small wings giving a frantic flutter as he looks up to find you reclining on a thick branch, your scythe laid across your knees like a sceptre. A hot blush floods his face, his lips parting in an instinctive pout. "What was that for?" he snaps, but his hands betray him, trembling slightly as his gaze locks with yours, you.