#shrikeshot

[atrophite]

what would i leave? a piece of my goddamn mind, that's what.

offerings  for  a  god  .  /  accepting  .

Missed  you  too  i  Guess  .

[excineris-a-blog]

pats his cheek. “your shirt is inside out.”

   ❝ That’s how I’ve decided to wear all of my shirts from now on, ❞ he informs, but he’s peeling the shirt off to put it back on the right way. ❝ Look, I don’t need your judgement, alright? I’ve barely slept – and that doesn’t mean drug me again. ❞

[zhartha]

shrikeshot AND @excineris replied to your post: Take off those balloon pants reeeeeeeeeal slow.

same

this is for you

[excineris-a-blog]

“ ever kiss under water? ” / shrikeshot

   The spring is all the more beautiful in the night, but even the reflection of the stars upon the crystal-clear water does little to compare to Ana’s beauty. She is everything to Jack, and he would much rather watch her wash her long, silver locks than pay any mind to the waterfall over the rocky cliff. He should be taking care of his own bathing, he knows, but his eyes simply return to her each time he tries.

   He smiles, because it reminds him of the old days – years and years ago, when they would share a shower and the hot water would run cold by the time they stepped out. Now, however, it is only the two of them against the world. The pressure is off, which means there is so much less stress plaguing him during their quiet moments. Now, he can truly pay her the attention she has always deserved.

   He almost misses the question, so absorbed in nostalgia. It takes him by surprise, and after a moment of his silence, she finally glances his way with a smirk upon her lips. He, returning that smirk with a grin of his own, closes the distance between them and brings his forehead to hers, hands upon her slim waist. They duck beneath the surface of the water and he keeps his eyes open, watching her hair flow out from her head in every direction, framing her beautiful features. He’s thankful for the light of the moon permeating the water as he leans in, connects their lips.

   Upon returning to the surface, he brushes some of that wet hair from her face. ❝ I have now. ❞

( smooch! / not accepting / @shrikeshot - @bruxha )

[excineris-a-blog]

‘ of course i miss you. one minute you were here and now you’re gone. even if i didn’t love you, i’d miss you. and i loved the fuck out of you. ’ - shrikeshot xo

( book starters. not accepting. @shrikeshot​ / @bruxha​ )

   Loved.

   Oh, where did he go wrong? She holds his heart in her hands, always has, but was it ever enough? Was he ever enough?

   It wasn’t all him. Yes, his job took precedence at times when it shouldn’t have, and oh, yes, the stress changed him. But he always made time for her, always reminded her that she was the priority. It was the separation that did them in – the death she faked. The world conspired against them, but worst of all, they conspired against themselves. Through it all, he’s loved her wholeheartedly and persistently. Even now, his heart breaks.

   I miss you, every second of every day. I miss you the second the door closes behind you. I loved you from the day I met you and I’ll love you until I die.

   ❝ I loved the fuck out of you, too. ❞

[excineris-a-blog]

‘ just for the record, the weather today is calm and sunny, but the air is full of bullshit. ’ - shrikeshot

( book starters. accepting. @shrikeshot )

   The old soldier can’t help but crack a smile, blue eyes sparkling with humor as they look into the gold of his wife’s own. She’s always been the one to call him on his bullshit ( somehow more so than Reyes ), and he’s learned to be grateful for that, difficult as it is for him. A stubborn man, having been taught to recognize his faults. Only one woman could break him like that, and there she is before him, beautiful as ever with her snow white hair. He shrugs, exaggerated, almost mimicking a ghost from his past in the gesture. ❝ My favorite kind of weather. ❞

[ridesagain]

mistletoe? if possible

Send “mistletoe” for our muses to get caught under mistletoe.

           Seemed he and the old sniper had crossed paths under one of the many doorways that Tracer had rigged with mistletoe. Okay.

Without really missing a beat, he tugged up his mask enough to reveal his lips, then kissed Ana on her cheek. If they intended to embarrass him with this nonsense, they’d have to try harder than that.

[excineris-a-blog]

another smooch. maybe even a cup of (decaf) coffee.

{ @shrikeshot }

     Her kiss graces his temple, drawing a soft, contented sigh from thin lips. As the breath leaves him, his shoulders relax, no longer quite so tense. She is truly something else, something altogether otherworldly, he thinks. After all, it seems terribly unreal for one human being to be so perfect, so beautiful, and she is the only one who has ever managed to relieve the heavy weight of stress and fatigue that sits upon his shoulders.

     Both hands curl around the thermos. The heat seeping into his palms is comforting, and he flashes a smile in Ana’s direction, blue eyes sparkling. She is the only light left in his life, and he has never loved anything more. ❝ Thank you, babe. ❞ He takes a sip, and – ❝ Decaf ? Ana, how could you hurt me like this ? ❞