Grime Reapers Novels & Stories

André was there for him then and now, how lucky he was, knowing that henceforward his life would always be filled with joy. ------------------------------------------ "Bryson, listen...there's this club we have to try, it's called ‘Diamante’ they have the best singers, dancers, both male and female strippers, we should definitely try it and see how it goes…they’re even offering a 10% discount for first-time guests". Said Seth as he was scrolling through his phone. "I am in no time to be going to clubs, I’m extremely busy, besides this company can’t run itself…moreover how the heck did you even find such a place"? asked Bryson as he continued typing on his computer.

Reaper I made good on my promise. I turned the entire southside into a slaughterhouse. For the first twenty-four hours, the Midnight Reapers moved like storms. We kicked in the doors of every known Skulls trap house, every front business, every warehouse by the docks. We broke bones, shattered teeth, and dragged their bleeding lieutenants into the mud.

Apparently, they now traveled in small packs when dealing with shifter deaths because Fenrir had killed one years ago who had tried to drag Lydia’s soul to Hell. My gaze dropped to their scythes. Reapers were low-level angels, one level below the foot soldiers they used as cannon fodder during battles. The only dangerous things about them were their weapons. “I told you we’d encounter the illegal psychopomps,” the male reaper said to his female companion. “If they’re not haunting wolf-shifter deaths, they’re infiltrating the Fifth Faction and stealing souls.” I rolled my eyes, even though his assessment of us was accurate. “Let’s be respectful of the recently bereaved and settle our differen

Drawing a smile behind the façade of her excited and jumping soul, it slowly opens, as the death reapers appear, and immediately greet her. “Yo!” Wearing a smile that does not mean gladness, but more on a paid mission and necessary steps that he should take. The reaper that appears in front of her, who wears unusual clothes, yet rings the very world that reflected unto the original, and just like this world where she exists is playing the same game that no one of them could ever escape from but holds the difference and uncanny ways than theirs. He wears a mask that somehow imitates a mummy, yet not and the scythe that shines with its material that is made from gold, silver, gems, and bronze.

Reaper Swithin said, blowing his nose and taking in the air. "AAHHHHH! This Moroi blood!" Reaper Swithun Johnson is the guardian of Strigoi Grave Risen Coven. He has ginger hair and blue eyes and always wears a black dress coat with silver buttons. He is tall and lean, with a sharp jawline and a piercing gaze that can make even the bravest of souls tremble. Reaper Swithun is known for his unwavering loyalty to the coven and his fierce protection of its members. After Ace, Reaper is second in command in the coven.

And right in the middle of it all—he waited. Jax. They called him Reaper—because death followed him like a shadow, a silent, inevitable companion. The kind of man who could kill with a glance and leave no trace but silence and a cold void where a life once was. The instant his eyes, obsidian chips of ice, sliced through the noise and landed on me, the world shrank to that frozen moment. My breath caught, a jagged shard in my throat. I knew—without a doubt—that I was standing in the eye of a storm, and I was the fragile thing about to be torn apart.

It struck the ground a dozen feet in front of them. Where the beam hit, the scrubby grass, the tough little weeds, the hardy insects, everything simply… turned grey. Not dead. It was still standing, but all color, all vitality, was instantly leeched from it. It became a perfect, static sculpture of its former self, frozen in a moment of absolute apathy. A Reaper. That's what the Overseer had written. Deploy Reapers to sanitize the sector. Their weapon didn't kill. It preserved in a state of non-life. It was the ultimate expression of the Grey Sorrow's philosophy.

He grabbed a second submachine gun from the wall rack and checked the chamber with a metallic clack that sounded like a death knell. ​"They’re in the lower tunnels," he growled, his eyes fixed on the security monitors. The screens showed thermal signatures—ghostly white figures emerging from the black water of the grotto. They were moving with military precision, draped in sleek rebreather gear and carrying compact, high-caliber weapons. "The Reapers. The Council’s personal cleanup crew. They don't take prisoners, Leona. They erase mistakes." ​"And we're the biggest mistake they ever made," I said, my voice surprisingly steady as I tightened the grip on the sidearm he’d given me. The adrenal

“Sorry if I can't remember every little thing you say, Corpseboy.” “I'm the Grim Reaper, the Masked Reaper. Follow me, little lamb? Or are you still lost in the pasture?” “I'm not a sheep, idiot. Don't patronize me- hey!” I exclaimed as he grabbed my hands impatiently, thrusting my fingers against his bony cheeks. “Eww! Let go of me! What the heck are you doing?” I protested, recoiling at the feel of the skull beneath my fingers. But his grip remained firm, forcing me to trace the cool bone as his hands guided mine to the hollows beneath his brow.