𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 ᴀ ɢɪʀʟ ᴍᴇᴇᴛꜱ ʜᴇʀ ʙᴇꜱᴛꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ'ꜱ ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ. ❛𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘺- 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵, 𝘞𝘪𝘭?❜ ❛𝘏𝘮? 𝘖𝘩! 𝘏𝘪! 𝘐'𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘈𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘣𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺.❜ 𝐂𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐫𝐭: 𝐎𝐨𝐩𝟒𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: 𝐒𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬 𝐆𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭.)

◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈ "𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕀 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕒 𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕕, 𝕀 𝕨𝕚𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕪 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕜𝕚𝕕𝕤." ◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈ Ranboo x Reader ◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈ Read it Ranboo, I dare you

PHANTASM SERIES BOOK FIVE ---- Tryst (noun): a private romantic rendezvous between lovers, "a moonlight tryst". ---- Your eyes drifted upwards catching onto the glint of the sword that had saved you and following the curve of the blade upwards until you came to a knarled hand, with dirt under the fingernails. You followed the arm upwards until you reached his face - partly obscured underneath a green and white striped hat. You were able to catch onto blue eyes and the scruff of a beard underneath a mop of blonde hair though. What drew your attention most though, was the crow's wings behind him, flared out and glinting by the light of the sword. You hadn't even heard him swoop down for the approach. For someone who hadn't been seen in over a century, the Angel of Death looked young... too young. But then he was spinning away, wings flapping behind him so that he hovered over the ground as he sliced through anything that came too close for comfort. Even the skeletons a ways away weren't safe from his flames when their zombie counterparts came staggering too close. Soon enough, the dark forest was alight with burning undead creatures, providing a light source for you to stagger up to your feet as the Angel slid his sword back into it's scabbard. You weren't expecting him to round on you like he did, fire in his eyes. "What the hell are you doing?"