29 Paper Crane, 15 Tafferfield. There ya go.
Thank you Toasty, I really needed this one today.
💙 Paper Crane: “I never could bare to leave you in the morning,” Crane says, his voice low. Gentle. The words rumble behind her, and there’s a warm puff of air against the top of her head. His lips land as he inhales. It’s a soft touch and comes with a squeeze of his arms around her.
Zofia’s nose twitches and she goes: “Gag.” and blows air at the book perched at an awkward angle in front of her. The latest one of the books he’d taken to reading out of for her. Because she likes his voice, but gee. The subject matters leave a lot to be desired, since the Tower doesn’t have a great deal of variety.
“Mhmm— it’s so goopy it’s gross.”
“But he loves her. That’s romance, you heard of romance? The bit where you like someone enough to go off and do stupid shit for them.”
“Sounds familiar?” he asks and drops the book on her stomach. His fingers dance down her sides. Slide under her shirt. And bloody hell, he’s got a knack for tickling her to the point where she’d like to kill him. Except maybe not today. Maybe tomorrow. Since she can’t stand leaving him in the morning anyway, no matter where he’ll go.
💚 Tafferfield: “How have you never had hot chocolate at 2 in the morning?” I fidget on the spot, my nose in the cup and my eyes on said chocolate. “Oh yeah. How’d I forget. Not a chocolate person. More of a— a—”
Hands set around mine, encase them and the cup I’m clinging on to, and for a short while I stare at them. And I mumble: “I’m fine. Go back to bed. I just wanted chocolate. It’s okay to want chocolate at two AM, I swear.”
Chris huffs. Peels my hands off the mug, one by one. He puts the mug away, sets it down with a soft click of porcelain against the kitchen table.
“You’re not,” he says and I get a noseful of Redfield chest as he pulls me into a hug. An all-encasing-blanking-out-the-world sort of hug.
“I swear,” I tell his shirt.
“You babble when you’re upset, and you’re babbling now.”
“You call that babbling?”
He chuckles. Squeezes me a little. “By your standards, yeah.”
For that he earns himself a little nip, teeth on shirt and skin, and he grunts before I almost get the air squished out of me in return.
“Do I still get my chocolate though?” I ask, though it comes out all muffled.
“Only if you share,” he says, and it’s not hard to figure he doesn’t mean my two AM distraction.
(I still have some prompt fills left to finish - no one will be left out!)
