#moxena

[tasiakosh]

She's a menace to society and I love her

[ask-the-elders-chosen]

She felt as though she was drowning and he was the only solid thing in this world...

[crazy-tea-lover]

‘ Reapers have long memory. ’ - Elena Dragunova (XCOM 2)

[ask-the-elders-chosen]

[ask-the-elders-chosen]

Okay, but Mox’s clawed hands on Elena’s bare hips

[ask-the-elders-chosen]

Elena carrying Mox 👀

[ask-the-elders-chosen]

Elena: You need to be more careful. Mox: So you ARE worried. Elena: Aw, not!

[ask-the-elders-chosen]

*giggling wildly* mamihlapinatapei for mox and elena

mamihlapinatapei: the wordless, yet meaningful look shared by two people who both desire to initiate something but are both reluctant to start. 

Elena never quite understood why out of all the people present on the Avenger Mox always chose her. Whether it was a battle partner he needed or just someone to talk to: she was the first one he would approach. Elena never fancied herself as a talkative one. Certainly, even Tygan would make for a better conversationalist, yet Mox kept seeking her company whenever there was a chance.

And this time wasn’t an exception either.

Elena didn’t need to look up to know it was him: she could recognize the gait and the unique way his boots squeaked. Not to mention, barely anyone would approach her just to exchange a few words and then sit there in complete silence. More often than not, her companions would excuse themselves and leave. Mox, on the other hand, wasn’t bothered by the lack of interest from her behalf. He could just sit with her for hours, enjoying the wordless serenity.

Elena moved to the side, creating some space for him to use. The thick trunk of the tree she was using as a bench was barely long enough for him to sit on, yet Mox didn’t express any sort of discontent. He never did, no matter how unaccustomed he was to the ways Elena chose to spend the free time.

Still not saying anything, Mox handed her a big, steaming cup of black tea with some strawberry jam in it. Elena had no idea how in the world he could have found out about her preferences but decided not to ask. Having taken it, she made a sip and breathed out in satisfaction. It was almost identical to the tea she used to drink with her old grandmother back in the day.

“Thank you,” she muttered quietly, taking another sip. It was probably the first time she spoke during all of their silent hours together. Elena could even say she got used to Mox being by her side like that. His presence, despite the initial dislike she harbored for all the Skirmishers, had a soothing, even calming effect.

Elena allowed herself to smile. She knew that Mox was watching: she could tell by the way his body was turned towards her. Somehow his eyes always tended to fixate on her: Elena couldn’t tell whether it was mere curiosity or some other emotion, but there was definitely something special about those looks.

Elena couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment her own perception of Mox changed so drastically: it felt like the more nights they spent like that, the fonder she grew of him. If she told her past self it would happen, the other Elena would call her a fool.

Maybe she indeed was one.

Elena finished the cup and finally looked at Mox. His yellow eyes were akin to a moon in the night: glowing brightly in such a gloomy sky. He never seemed to blink, as if afraid he could miss something valuable in those seconds. From a certain point of view Elena could even dare to call Mox attractive: after all, he was part human. His face had unusual features that she would sometimes study for quite a while too. Just like now.

She squeezed he cup in bare hands: they were getting cold from the night air around them. Elena knew it would happen. Knew and yet left the gloves on the bed table.

When Mox grasped her palms into his big and warm hands, Elena didn’t object. The gentleness of his touch was…pleasant. She wondered, whether all his body had the same high temperature. Of course, she could ask, but then this special silent exchange between them would be ruined.

They didn’t need words to comfort each other. They didn’t need words to express their emotions.

They had their own special way…

 [ Note: one day I will be able to write good drabbles ]