Ladybird

Every day in Cupidale is the same.

Pink, miserable, and annoying.

Every pink motherfucker here is so happy, and I'm the one they all avoid. Long ago, I tried my hand in being a matchmaking cupid, but I didn't have the gusto for it. Then I tried working in retail and I was even worse at that. But it was extremely hard when the customer is never actually fucking right. Apparently, my skill set lies in being the bitch that gatekeeps the Head Cupid's office.

I sigh as I take a bite of the overly sweet croissant and take my place in my worn-in pink chair and wait for the man himself to get into the office.

Cupiō shouldn't be the only highlight of living in this cotton-candy-cesspool—but he is.

While he might be Head Cupid, he isn't overly excitable like the other cupids. He understands that life isn't all about love, rainbows, and bullshit. It doesn't hurt that he's ridiculously handsome and smart.

He just never notices me. At least, not in the way I want him to. He appreciates me as his secretary, always bringing me coffee and treats to thank me for my work. But just like everyone else, he doesn't dive deeper.

I know what people say about me. That I'm a bitch, that they don't know how I was ever stationed as a cupid in the afterlife. What's even worse is I've thought the same thing myself hundreds of times. At this point, I feel too far removed from the cupid community. I don't see how I'll ever fit in.

I take off my glasses and wipe them with a pink microfiber cloth before putting them back on.

As soon as the pink cat-eyed glasses are back in place, Cupiō is putting my coffee on my desk. He looks devilishly handsome today, wearing a rolled up pink dress shirt, covered by a deep pink harness that's tucked into his trousers. His hair is darker pink on the top and fades to a lighter, nearly white-pink around his sideburns and beard.

"What's on the schedule today, Birdie?" he asks, calling me by my nickname. I swallow thickly and clear my throat. A nickname shouldn't be important to me, but it is. He's the only man who's ever made me want to be slightly softer—but only for him.

"The annoying happy one has a meeting with you in an hour," I grate out.

Love is the quintessential cupid, and it's probably wrong to hate her for it, but I don't really care. I know it's rooted in jealousy. At least I'm aware of my endless character flaws. She's so happy to be a cupid and to make Cupidale the best place it can be, while I just feel hopelessly lost.

I don't belong here. Being an outcast has started to weigh on me, am I truly incapable of experiencing true love? It makes me feel like a defective cupid, and I'm not sure how to turn this around. Maybe it's because of the introduction of inter-veil relationships and everyone seemingly being able to find their person, but I just feel lost.

"Play nice, Birdie," he says, pushing the coffee closer to me on the desk.

"Why do I feel like you have worse news?"

"After my meeting with Love, there might be an influx of work needed to plan an event. I'd need you to work alongside her and I'd be a big part of the planning as well," he says, and I wrinkle my nose.

Cupiō gives me a bright smile, and I narrow my eyes at him.

He sits on the corner of my desk and holds his hands up in surrender. "I don't even know if I'm going to agree to her proposal, but you're the best at being realistic," he says, and I look away for a moment, wondering if it's a compliment or a diss. "I need someone I can trust to make sure things are safe and orderly."

"She's annoying," I reply sharply.

His smile lightens up his features as his eyes crinkle ever so slightly.

"I'm doing my best to keep the cupids happy," Cupiō says and I wonder even more what his meeting with Love is about.

"What about you?" I ask him, the words just slipping out of me like nonsense.

Cupiō tilts his head at me and sighs. "I'm fine, Ladybird." He stands and dusts off his pants and grabs his own coffee. We both know it's a lie. He's been going through so much lately and just continues to run this ridiculous town. "Just play nice, okay?"

"I can be nice," I say, though it feels like a lie.

"I know you can, Birdie," he replies, and it seems like he genuinely means it, before heading to his office and shutting the door.

I stare at his door as I grab my coffee and take a sip. It's exactly how I like it. Too many of the cupids ply their coffee with way too much sugar, but this is just the right amount of hazelnut and cream. I remind myself he brings me the coffee because he appreciates my work, not because he wants to see me naked.

No one in this horned up town wants to, and it makes me feel even more miserable.

A groan escapes me and my mood worsens as a male cupid named Arrow comes strolling through the elevator doors and strutting over to my office.

Cupiō is the only male cupid I can tolerate in this realm. I swear I have to swallow back coffee flavored vomit as Arrow leans down on my desk.

"Hey there, Ladybug," he says, and I blink at him. He waits for a long moment for a response, and when I just stare at him, he gets off my desk and stands straight. "I was hoping to have a chat with the big man." He attempts to go around my desk, and I push out my leg. His ankle catches on my heel as he almost goes tumbling to the ground, his downy wings the only thing preventing him from falling face first onto the floor.

Unfortunate.

"You don't have an appointment, Arrow."

"We need to discuss?—"

I stand from my desk, my pink heels clicking on the marble as I adjust my pants legs and crouch next to the cupid.

"I know you're new here, but if there's one lesson you ought to learn, it's that I'm not someone you should fuck with. Would you like to make an appointment?" I say in an eerily calm tone.

The male cupid blinks at me and slightly backs away. "Yes, I'd like to make an appointment."

I sit back in my chair and look over the ledger, ignoring multiple openings and skipping to August.

"August tenth," I say, picking up my gel glide pen that I covet dearly. If anyone so much as tried to steal this pen, I'd probably ruin their life.

"That's months from now."

"Would you like me to push it to October?" I ask sweetly.

"Fine. August," he grumbles, and I give him a wide smile that makes him take another step back.

"Would you like an appointment card, or are you capable of remembering your obligations?"

The cupid swallows and nods his head before retreating to the elevator. I smile to myself as I color coordinate Cupiō's appointments for the next month. He's too accommodating with his time, and if he needs me to put these unaware, self-absorbed cupids in their place, I'm fine taking that job.

It's blessedly quiet in reception for a few moments until the elevator dings. I expect Love to come strutting in with her giant reaper boyfriend, just letting everyone in Cupidale know that she is the cupid. But I'm surprised when a different reaper is standing next to her, walking toward my office.

He whistles lowly. "This is the head honcho's office?"

He isn't wearing the ridiculous robes the other reapers wear, instead he has on a tight black t-shirt and matching black pants. He doesn't carry the same pretensions about him that I've seen from other reapers. He also doesn't seem like the happy-go-lucky cupid next to him.

He seems different, and for the first time in a long time, my curiosity is piqued.

When they reach the edge of my desk, Love gives me a gigantic smile, while the reaper next to her tilts his head like a confused Doberman. I shouldn't find it endearing, yet there's something about him I find intriguing and different.

I say nothing, forcing Love to speak first.

"Right, hello, Ladybird. I have an appointment with Cupiō," she says happily.

"Yes, you have an appointment with Cupiō. The reaper isn't on the meeting agenda."

The man in question smiles, a dimple forming in his cheek as he shows off his shining white teeth. His dark hair is short, nearly buzzed to the head, and I imagine what it would feel like under my fingers.

"You're different, cupid," he says, his dark gaze appraising me like I'm a puzzle to be solved.

When was the last time that someone looked at me with anything besides dismay or irritation?

I push my glasses up my nose and clear my throat. "Being average is boring," I reply, and his smile widens.

"I thought all cupids were happy little?—"

Love smacks a hand over her reaper friend's mouth and she squeaks. "Right, about that meeting, I brought him as a reaper liaison."

"You can go in. Your little friend?—"

"Gloom," he interrupts, ripping Love's pink hand from his face. "My name is Gloom."

"Charming. Gloom can sit in the waiting room like a good boy, unless the Head Cupid invites him into the meeting," I say to the two of them.

Gloom doesn't stop looking at me, and Love's jaw drops ever so slightly.

"I've made some miscalculations," Love says to no one in particular, but looks back and forth between me and Gloom.

I raise my watch and tap it at Love.

"You're late."

"Right," she says, looking back at Gloom. "I'll call you in once I talk to Cupiō," she assures him.

She opens the door and heads toward Cupiō's office as the reaper stands before me.

"I said sit," I tell him sharply, and I watch as his throat bobs. He follows my direction, taking the seat that faces my desk. No one ever chooses that seat.

I smirk to myself, liking that he's listening but also doesn't seem afraid of me. Unlike so many of the cupids who don't dare to make eye contact with me, or turn around the moment they see me stationed at my desk.

He crosses his arms and watches me with rapt attention until I can't stay silent any longer.

"Is there something you'd like to say?"

"I just haven't met a cupid like you," he says, glancing down to where I have my ankles crossed.

I swallow and stand, my heels clicking as I walk over to the reaper. I bend forward, my hands clutching the arm of each side of the chair, and lean in.

"How many cupids have you met?"

"At least two dozen," he replies.

I'm not sure why a pang of irritation and jealousy ripples through me as I look into his half-lidded brown eyes.

"None of them intrigued you?" I ask him, and he shakes his head.

"I have very particular tastes," he responds.

"What? None of the death collectors are looking for an obedient reaper to boss around?" I clock him instantly.

I watched as he stilled when I called him a good boy and told him to wait out here and sit down; he enjoyed it, probably as much as I did.

He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing dramatically as he licks his lips and looks at me.

I lean in closer, noting that he smells like cinnamon and other mouthwatering spices.

"Am I wrong?" I ask, nearly a breath's width away from his face.

The door opens behind me, and I don't move as Love clears her throat.

"Gloom, you can come in now," she says.

The reaper's eyes meet mine for me to tell him what to do and a smirk takes over my lips. "Go to your meeting," I reply, backing away and strolling back to my desk.

Gloom's eyes don't leave my form until Love basically grabs his arm to drag him into Cupiō's office.

"I thought you were gay," she hisses.

"No, I just like to be bossed around," he replies, and I grin to myself.

"Oh my gods, just get inside." Love shoves him into the office.

Maybe things in Cupidale are about to get a hell of a lot more interesting after all.