#aimrot

esmée  camille  ...

@aimrot​​​ + “ i feel more like myself when you’re around, angie. “

bittersweet will be the word that will always hover between them: equal parts bitter, ( skin cold to the touch; feet no longer made for dancing, name traded for blood ) equal parts sweet ( the smile that returns, surprising, like the dawn after a long night; love soft in the way fingers tremble ) and enough to make angela’s heart ache.

the ache reminds of her of her worry, and angela always worries, now -- worries for the way she might be wrong again, might lose amélie again through the tired streak of a miscalculation; a mistake that had her gut twisted, lips bruised from biting too harshly. how much is amélie and how much is widowmaker? something familiar, something twisted? overwatch turned their backs on amélie, angela hesitant, guilty, but no better. she’ll be better, now, even if it comes too late.

 ❛ I’M GLAD -- ❜ angela’s voice comes out hoarse, so she quickly recovers herself, taking one of amélie’s hands into hers.  ❛ I’M GLAD. ❜ she squeezes, a smile quickly recovered as it tickles the curve of her mouth. 

Formal     engagements     were     always     something     that     made     Ciri’s     skin     crawl,     reminding     her     too     much     of     Cintra     and     making     her     long     for     somewhere     she     knew     was     only     ash     now.     Golden-green     eyes     are     sharp     like     a     hawk’s     as     she     scans     the     great     hall,     freezing     as     she     spots     her.     Amélie.     Her     blood     both     boils     with     rage     and     runs     hot     beneath     her     flesh,     a     flush     rising     up     to     curl     around     her     ears     and     settle     at     her     collar     bone.     

raindrops tape against the window glass; blue eyes observe the monotony lingering around them – as if death no longer surrounds, as if a moment of solaces dares to linger within hectic grounds. in truth, addison already made up her mind to live in a state of chaos. 

if you can’t find a new year’s kiss, i’ll be yours. 

the taste of his words lingers against her lips. mark sloan taunting her / tantalizing her, as if to undermine her willpower to move on from the series of heartbreaks. she loathes how he plays with her heart – she despises how disposable she feels in the numerous conquest of his. 

thus, when eyes proclaimed the other woman – she did not hesitate. he was within proximity, almost carefully watching her every move as if he isn’t bound by his oath to the people. but even amidst the countdowns to a new year doctors need a break… and this woman is perfect. deadly, mysterious, and an enigma : she’s drawn to her, as if a moth to a flame. 

she doesn’t care. reckless she is, & reckless she acts. as the counters descend from ten to zero, she draws closer & closer until the telltale sign of the new year ushers her to press her lips against the other woman’s. addison lingers before cutting it short. 

cocky eyes flicker towards the sight of her ex-boyfriend before she haughtily saunters off to proceed with her duties for the night. 

digits move to encircle star's own, using muscled abdomen to press the other abruptly toward the nearest wall. lingering grin adorns wolfish maw, honey holding iridescent gaze. ❝ spare me a few more moments together, hm? ❞

The     gasp     Ciri     lets     escape     is     embarrassingly     loud     as     her     head     thumps     against     the     wall,     golden-green     eyes     wide     in     her     skull.     She     bares     sharp     teeth     instinctually,     WOLFISH     tendencies     immediately     bubbling     up     to     the     surface.     “Why     should     I     do     that,     huh?”     She     wants     to,     is     the     thing.     She     wants     everything     Amélie     will     give     her,     every     inch     and     she’ll     find     a     way     to     take     a     mile.     Leaning     onto     her     toes,     Ciri     lets     the     very     tips     of     their     noses     brush     together,     lets     them     breathe     the     same     air     as     she     puffs     up     like     an     angry     lioness.     “Why     should     I     do     anything     you     tell     me     to?”     Because     you     want     to,     Ciri.     All     she     wants     is     for     someone     who     doesn’t     need     anything     from     her,     doesn’t     want     anything     from     her.     

          our hands meet within the narrow gap of our two bodies.  spines arched until our chests touch, and i cannot help but give a breathless laugh.  how funny it is, to find love from you.   i mourn at the tomb of your breast, press kisses at the containing flesh which guards your own heart. the smears of red i leave behind compliment your skin, forcing my reverence beheld at the sight.  

          upwards i travel, until i feel you swallow beneath my lips.  until i feel your breath upon my cheeks.    it is there i pause just to observe the way your lashes flutter.          YOU DO NOT HAVE TO TELL ME YOU WANT MORE. 

           the feeling of your mouth on mine is satin.  soft and plush are your lips, like i have rubbed rose petals along my face.  my hands find the jutting bones of your hips and i wonder how long it has been since i’ve held someone so gently. how long it has been since you have felt gentle.   

       ❝   amélie, the hour draws near.   ❞         i do not explain what i mean.  you will know, in your war-torn soul.  there will be vengeance and blood, but for now there is you and i and the moments between us.         ❝   when all is said and done, i will be waiting for you. but you must go this path alone.   ❞   i would level their legions for you. bend their backs for your to rest your feet.  i would.  but these are the strings of fate exposed only to you.  the closure will not come with their blood on my blades.  

     ❝   give them death,  amélie.   ❞