#thrustandpcrry

[seliniakocharitos]

smooch

Kiss the wife? Kiss the wife! Kiss the wife several times.

[fxlgurkinesis]

thrustandpcrry replied to your post: she chokes on her tea.

raises a stick

there’s clearly been a mistake....

[fatebreaking-a]

smooch her hand

| @thrustandpcrry || Unprompted.

Her lips thin as she stares down at the other, unsure whether to be flattered or amused. This felt like another one of those little games they played, a small mask between what was genuine and what was only play. How easily the veil could be torn between the two, just one claw was all that was needed.

She decides today to twist her hand and clutch at the other’s jawline and cheek, tilting her head up demandingly. Two steps in, enough that she needs to put her other hand on the lady’s shoulder to keep her from falling backwards, enough to force her to lean back - to feel the distance between them, both in height and in skin. After all, she was very, very close.

Closer now that she leans down to steal a firm, demanding kiss, then push the lady back. The hand that had clutched Fio’s jaw now rested, partially splayed, across her own chin and lips - an intentionally slipshod attempt to conceal her amusement.

[on-cerulean-wings]

“Aw, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know. I also didn’t have to move in with you, or marry you, or do a bunch of other things. Now hush up and be thankful.”

[ofrxvia]

@thrustandpcrry​ [ x ]

Her words provoked a slight chuckle from the Witcher, golden eyes dancing as she tucked that bit of hair behind her ear. “I don’t think I was saying anything that important to begin with.” He shrugged, though he did lean a bit toward her. “Though, I think I could repeat it should you wish to hear.” Though, the way he said it seemed to imply that he was meaning to kiss her again, rather than repeat anything he had been saying. Like he remembered the small talk that had brought them to this point anyway. 

[ofironloyalty]

👀 at that rope

— ❝ do i detect interest in ropes and detention .. ? ❞

@thrustandpcrry

[stahri]

bows politely

bows back??? is she doing this right?

[defensator1]

" you've been up all night. " she whispered, eyelids growing ever more heavy as the sun continues it's climb from the horizon. " get some rest soon mmkay? " more whispers, before he would feel the weight of the duelist be replaced with a thin blanket, scented in fiora's many perfumes and talc. the mugs of coffee have gone cold, far too cold for fiora's liking, evident by one being half consumed. light taps could be heard as fiora fiddled away with her phone, before she too succumbed to rest.

old prompt my lazy ass couldn’t reply to timely // @thrustandpcrry

TO BE FAIR, MARTEL HAS NEVER had the luxury of friendship much too often. it’s nothing if not his own fault, given his usually unrealistic demands for any that wants to be close or keep him company, but it’s a good way to explain why he freezes in place in surprise when fiora covers him in her blanket. the expression that adorns his face is nothing short of comical in how he blinks as he seeks her figure with his gaze. the picture of dumbfounded, a rare sight for one so proud of being a know-it-all. he says nothing but watches her for a moment as she taps away in her phone; if he knew exactly how he looked right then, he’d glad she can’t quite catch the way he looks then.

he doesn’t say anything, though. he means to thank her, but he’s so unused to the expression he just returns to his work, both of them caught up in his tongue.

the good thing, however, is that the close reminder of her words in the form of her perfumed blanket slowly pries his focus away from his paper. it’s grounding, in a way, and drags him out of his reverie before he finally decides to call it a night (by now morning, but really, sleep deprivation doesn’t allow him to be that eloquent). standing up, he keeps the blanket over his shoulders before looking at his companion, only to find her sound asleep. a small, weary little smile comes to his lips. slowly he peels the blanket off of himself and places over fiora’s slumbering figure, careful to avoid waking her up. 

perhaps he should warn her to go rest somewhere more adequate, but certainly the armchair she’s found herself is the most comfortable option in his office and she looks peaceful enough he feels dissuaded. it’s rare enough someone would find it in themselves to not mind staying by his side during the boring and long periods in which he work binges, he’d not risk ruining her already late moment of rest.

still, right then, mind calmed down from his intellectual reveries and his pride silenced by a quiet but sudden surge of affection, he finally finds it in him to speak, if only in a bit of a whisper---

“thanks, fio.”