otp: don't kiss me

2

Watch the Queen of Hearts, folks. She’s the money card.

“Who is that?” Mabel asked once she’d caught up and they’d ducked into a cafeteria.
      “Sam Lloyd.” Evie nearly spat the name. She told them about her encounter with him at Pennsylvania Station, about how he’d kissed her and picked her pocket.
      Theta sipped her coffee, leaving a perfect red Cupid’s bow mark on the white ceramic cup. “He looks like he could make off with more than just your twenty dollars, if you catch my drift. You better keep an eye on that one, Evil.”
      “I don’t have enough eyes to keep on that one,” Evie grumbled.

x by 무구포
Permission to repost was granted by the artist.

2

“The Latin word for kiss is Osculum,” Connor explains and then kisses the top of Jane’s head, his lips pulling higher, eyes right on me. 

I do something out of the ordinary, unlike me, my heart blazing with fire. When he raises his head, I make the first move and kiss him on the lips, his surprise touching me for a split moment, not long enough for me to waver. His shock vanishes as he nips my lip and then kisses me harder, stronger.

“Say something,” I whisper to him.

He cups my face, lifting my gaze to his. His thumb strokes my cheek, his eyes soulfully blue. “I know I’ve married the right person when words turn you on as much as they do me.”

I read deeper into that, as I should.

Translation: I could only ever be with you, Rose.

in which rose has to read between the lines to grasp the depth of connor’s feelings [1/?]

2

“Why did you do that today?”

Evie had never seen Sam like this. Bewildered. Frightened. A little lost. His shirt was sweated through, and he looked ill and possibly ready to faint. She was still reeling from all the excitement, but she understood this much: Sam had done it for her. He’d risked his life to save hers.

“You’re honestly asking me that?”

Sam looked at Evie, and suddenly, she knew. Don’t see me was more than Sam’s Diviner power; it was his entire worldview. It was how he’d gotten along in life, keeping hidden, only letting people see what he wanted them to see. His whole life was a sleight of hand. And he’d risked it all. For her.

Imagine your OTP is alone. Person A tries to kiss Person B, but somehow accidentally headbutts them right in the nose instead. Person A, embarrassed, starts apologizing profusely and keeps asking Person B if they’re okay. Person B silences them by kissing them.

forgiveness is a knife — War’s capacity for it is nonexistent being spun from the abyss into an abomination that is set to bring the apocalypse; because if the horsemen had been birthed instead of made the change in their fundamental understanding of humanity would make them unable to accomplish their task.

And she, having spilled onto the asphalt like napalm and risen from the burning fields with a sword, has a job to do.

                                                                      —neon church—

A prophet prays inside a neon church with the Antichrist at her side, her eyes are fixed on the roof of this cheap Vegas chapel that promises elicit lovers a legitimacy to their feelings; a contract that is impulsively signed, and too soon taken back.

A long time ago her hand was forced onto sand, she signed away: her tongue, her heart, her mind, her soul; became the mouthpiece of an absent God that returns to chew on her tongue until it bleeds.

She kisses him the first time beneath these neon lights, her mouth tastes like copper. His

childhood grasped
                              between her spindle and stars, she threads his past, present, future with hers — precise even promises with each incision. These hastily made oaths have no unstitching. Haven’t you heard? It’s the end of days.

The horsemen are coming. Unveiled eldritch monstrosities that have been starved for eons in their sleeping coffins beneath the throne of God, where their mouths had opened and closed with infinite rows of teeth; choirs of angels watching these tools slumber.

Now that they are awake they need:
                                                         broken promises,
                                                         closeted sins,
                                                         sorrow

                                                                                      as sustenance.

The honey-veined pattern of the church’s floor glows neon yellow, the prophet on the tips of her toes whispering words that fall like jigsaw puzzles. He gathers each piece for later, suppressing a shudder when she lets him know War is waiting for them outside.

The Antichrist is awake, and God’s tools have come to pay their respects.

Horsemen & Archangels || Eliot C. ©

PokeAoki. featuring Vulpix!Kise and Charmander!Aomine.

Made these for a schrinkwrap test . I think Vulpix is a good fit for Kise, not that sure with Charmander and Aomine tho.