open post for pic prompts, starters, and texts. f/m or f/f for shipping. see here for more permissions. please link nsfw images. compatible with all seasons of wynonna earp.
[ Her hands almost instantly slip back into the pockets of her jacket — not to preserve any warmth, since it feels like it's radiating out of her now in a way that's almost impossible to ignore in the immediate aftermath of their kissing, the drink she still tastes on her tongue, but rather for lack of anything to do with them in the right now. She'll have plenty to do with them eventually, but right now, she curves her fingers in against her palms and casually sweeps her tongue across her lower lip, as if trying to subdue her reaction to the rising anticipation of it all, the spreading crookedness of her grin. ]
Maybe I was curious if you'd actually done anything with that picture after all. [ She knew he hadn't, had taken him at his word when he'd said he'd gotten rid of it then, but the thought of what it could have potentially led to had given her more than one image to dwell on. ]
Before that, though, the sparring. Watching, learning how you fought, how you moved. Sort of made me wonder how you'd handle yourself some other way. [ And how they'd move together by the very nature of a different tangling of limbs; if he'd let her bear him down or refuse to go easy on her, apply that same kind of concentrated focus once her thighs were wrapped around his hips or if he'd let himself lose control a little more like she knows he's capable of, had glimpsed hints of down in the Arena. She shrugs one shoulder, hair spilling forward across her profile with the movement, forcing her to toss her head slightly when she finally gives him a sidelong glance, trying to gauge his reaction to what she's implying by not saying. ]
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Maybe I was curious if you'd actually done anything with that picture after all. [ She knew he hadn't, had taken him at his word when he'd said he'd gotten rid of it then, but the thought of what it could have potentially led to had given her more than one image to dwell on. ]
Before that, though, the sparring. Watching, learning how you fought, how you moved. Sort of made me wonder how you'd handle yourself some other way. [ And how they'd move together by the very nature of a different tangling of limbs; if he'd let her bear him down or refuse to go easy on her, apply that same kind of concentrated focus once her thighs were wrapped around his hips or if he'd let himself lose control a little more like she knows he's capable of, had glimpsed hints of down in the Arena. She shrugs one shoulder, hair spilling forward across her profile with the movement, forcing her to toss her head slightly when she finally gives him a sidelong glance, trying to gauge his reaction to what she's implying by not saying. ]