#seraphfaced

:3

he knelt in the brush, watching the creature he had struck from the sky. she had come into his forest without warning, for something he did not yet understand. he had struck without concern for them, only for his forest. only for the land that had give him life and purpose.

but the creature was not a monster. she appeared to be nothing he had ever seen before, with flowing golden hair and large wings. his arrow had snatched her from the air and pinned her to the soft soil. 

she’s getting him another nice coat and lots of love and kisses

           Shaking hand, covered in white, stained cloth that he keeps inside the rough wool of a muted, earthy serape. He enters the base without a sound, without fanfare, and makes his way into the infirmary they’d cobbled together with what Angela could find, what she could smuggle. 

He comes home smelling of wine, covered in the dark stain of it and the copper tones and the stench of blood. He could stand it no more. His safety is here. His cage is here. 

He knocks on her door, and reveals the haphazard stigmata of the day’s events, the glass in his palm. She opens the door. 

             “Angie” he croaks. He cannot meet her eyes. 

in the midst of this hellish nightmare, for once he thinks that he might be okay. if only because the company he’s currently keeping makes him think it just might be. 

it was a desperate bid to keep the children out of trouble, he knows that much – there’s always an adult somewhere that’s telling you off for being too in the way or asking too many stupid questions or not asking enough and knowing that you’re disinterested and it’s frankly annoying. but there’s joy in someone his own age, even if it’s needling her with stupid questions the others won’t answer. maybe he likes the attention. maybe he likes her. 

even when he’s regaling her with stories about the scorpions in his boots or the rats he used to chase or the ground squirrels he’d practice on, there’s a charming fondness that creeps in, how he talks about himself… for once. 

it’s the most he’s spoken in a long time. 

and when she stops and asks and speaks and good god is this what being a person felt like? he can feel his heart jump into his throat. he keeps his head turned to the side, he keeps his voice lower than he means to. 

@seraphfaced​  asked:  ‘ i’d like to stay like this for awhile. ’  /  accepting  .

whenever missions are finished,  the debriefing of them is much more exhausting than the actual carrying the task out.  paperwork,  reporting,  all that mind-numbing shit that makes zane eager to get back to having a gun in his hand.  yeah,  it’s dangerous and risky out there but he’s always liked that.  his life has always been chaos and this isn’t any different–  except for the part where he’s being paid.  that’s the best thing of it all.  that,  and coming back to the most gorgeous woman in the world.  how in the world he managed to land her,  he’s got no idea.  don’t get him wrong!  his confidence is higher than most men’s and he praises his appearance,  but she’s–  a goddamn angel in every way.  kind,  funny and so fucking smart.  he’s never been very smart,  not after being raised by his idiot,  criminal brothers and after taking an insane amount of head trauma over the years.  but that’s the reason he met angela in the first place.  she was there to watch over him while he was in a goddamn coma for weeks.  thankfully,  that didn’t ruin her first impression of him.

cowboy king