Velvette

velvette thought you were absolutely beautiful.

even when you came home battered and bruised, uniform torn and tattered, she thought you’ve never looked prettier.

it had been rough, the war against the exterminations. sinners were still finding ways to push the angels back, force them to leave and try again. velvette wasn’t a big fighter but she’d be damned if she didn’t try her best to help you when you needed it.

the two of you sat on the floor of her living room, your shirt tossed to the side as she ran a cloth over your bruises. your face was a little messed up, split lip and almost-broken jaw. luckily there wasn’t any major damage.

she sat between your legs on her knees, one hand balancing her body as she rubbed away the dirt and dried blood, careful to not rub directly over any open wounds. none were too deep, just some scratches and a few injuries that were luckily too shallow to need stitches.

the entire time, she was peppering your face with kisses and praising you as if she’d never get the chance to again. “m’glad you’re safe,” she mumbles, kissing the tip of your nose. “but you always come back, don’t you?” she giggles, grabbing bandages to wrap around your stomach and chest.

once she deemed you cleaned enough, she ran a hand carefully down the expanse of your chest, moving back up to grip your shoulders and press a quick kiss to your lips- careful to not press too hard against them. she snorts when she pulls back, using the pad of her thumb to wipe away her lipstick from the tip of your nose and lips.

“such a strong soldier,” she says, wiping your face down like she had done with your body, wiping away the grime. “always fightin’ wars and doing a damn good job every time.”

giving you some ice for your jaw, she wiped your lip, careful to not put too much pressure on it and open the wound again.