#ifiwriteagain

[seasaltpaper]

Bite Me – Vampire-ish Harry

So a while back my dear lovely talented incredibly funny and adorable @honeyskins threw a random halloween idea on our gc and i was like “that sounds cool, can i write it? i’ll write it” and i did (and in time for halloween mind you, that’s a first, me actually completing a deadline) but i never posted it back then so i guess its here now? If you’ll have it. So yeah... 

       It was cold outside, the autumn temperature dropping drastically in harsh contrast from the summer that quickly died out. The leaves were turning orange and falling quietly to the equally orange and crunchy ground, leaving naked trees behind, only making nights spookier and giving every single human in the village more reason to be scared of whatever was out there in the world. You never cared much for the myths and legends that seemed to go around. That didn’t make them any less real and you knew and had living proof of that, because not caring for anything mystical didn’t really put a bubble around you to stop you from stumbling face first into it, or rather him.

“Boo!” you were startled when the familiar voice scared you from behind, turning to find Harry, your boyfriend of a year, right there behind you in your kitchen, with a grin on his face and a very faint uncharacteristic blush to his cheeks. Rolling your eyes, you pushed him away. “Ha ha, real funny” “I startled you, Miss ‘I’m not scared of Halloween season’ ” he air-quoted. “I’m not! I love a good spooktober” Harry gave you a pointed look as if he didn’t believe a word you said “I do! Wouldn’t be dating a vampire if I didn’t” you finished in a whisper while stirring some pasta sauce and his eyes widened, moving his hand to cover your mouth. “Not so loud” He shushed as you giggled. You were home alone, no one would hear anything.

How you and Harry met the year prior was very unusual, given it was bright outside and sunny and very against the pop culture surrounding his species. It was spring and very cheerful, and to this day you still laugh at the fact that only you could stumble into a vampire in the middle of April. Only you could stumble into the most human vampire ever, Harry Styles. His skin had some warm glow despite being white as a sheet of paper, and his hands made you fuzzy inside despite always being cold to the touch. You were sure he was the most alive looking vampire there was. You were good friends for a somewhat short time, soon realising there was something there and now, as cliché as it sounded, you were dating a vampire. And for almost a year and a half that is.

You removed his hand from your mouth and concentrated on the task at hand, not burning your lunch.

“You need to stop waltzing into my house just whenever” “Regretting letting me in?” he smirked smoothly as he cockily leaned against the fridge. “I told you vampires are irresistible” he wiggled his eyebrows up and down.

“Oh shush before I pull out the garlic.” “Hey hey” he put his hands up as defence “No need to get aggressive just cause you forgot you gave me a key” he winked and you remembered that, duh, he had a key. “Was just passing by, stopped to ask what we’re going as t’Niall’s party tomorrow.”

Being a vampire and trying to keep it as hidden as he could meant Harry often dabbled in “human” activities such as the typical Halloween Costume Party. He really liked doing the whole Vampire thing then without a care in the world but last year he got too close to being found out. Last year you were just starting to date so he didn’t want to coordinate outfits either. “Uh, I was going to be a nurse, do you want to be doctor or a patient?” you ask him genuinely, distracted with plating your food. “Depends…” he starts with a sultry hum, coming to you and taking the plate from your hands so he can back you up against the counter. His hands grab your waist and he pushes chest impossibly close to yours. At the proximity, your heart races and your mouth dries out. “Are you gonna be a sexy nurse?” He slurs against your year, prepping kisses to your lobe and neck. “Harry!” you giggle and push him away with all your might, and it takes a lot from you to do so, as you’re suddenly out of breath thanks to him. He laughs before letting you go, he knows you need to have lunch before you’re late for work. “I’ll be a nurse too. Scrubs seem easier of a costume to take off” he winks once more as he picks up his keys and you roll your eyes at him. His tall body comes to lay a big kiss on your mouth before he leaves. He can taste the sauce you’ve prepared on your lips from the times you took testing spoonfuls while cooking. “Mhmmm, tasty… Y’know… I am kind of hungry” he smirks one of his big smirks, letting you see the slowly growing fangs as he opens and closes his mouth mimicking taking a bite. “Harry…” you give with a warning tone and he sighs with a small laugh catching the drift.  As his strong long legs back him away from your kitchen and out to the street he quickly states that he’ll see you tomorrow at his place so you can leave for the party together and hollering a cheerful “Love you” as he locks your door after himself.

In the almost two years you’ve known Harry and that he was a vampire, you’ve expressed thoroughly your wish to not be bitten by him –or any other vampire for that matter– neglecting him of feeding off you. The idea made you somewhat uncomfortable and it sounded painful, and you just didn’t want anything to do with it. The irony was strong for you were indeed dating a vampire, and you had learned so much about his kind and you accepted all of it, even him feeding… Off animals or even other humans – which gave you the shivers to be honest – but getting bit yourself? That’s the one thing you couldn’t fully come to terms with. Sure, at times it can get annoying for him, specially when he’s extremely hungry and you smell ‘Deliciously tempting’ as he often says, but he’s respected that since day one. He knows not everyone has this weird fantasy or interest towards being bitten by a vampire and even though he would love to have a taste of his girlfriend to get him through the day, he gets it.

Doesn’t stop him from joking about it or asking you to leave when you’re on your period or he’s craving human blood very, very much, but that’s just the way you’ve learned to function as a couple, and it’s been great so far. He knows to try his hardest whenever you’re getting intimate with each other, and it’s more often than not caused him to experience the most pleasurable of orgasms. Being deprived that way. Wanting to nibble hard enough to pierce the skin on your neck, but knowing that he can’t. He just has to do with imagining your taste and sometimes the thought alone gets him flustered and ready. He can’t control when he gets hungry. And he can’t help it that he’s hungry for you.

Which is exactly what is happening to him the next day. He’s woken up hungry, his nose tingling and fangs out of control. Everything he smells gives him the scent of a next meal, and he wants to eat. And then he can tell. He doesn’t want the typical human food he’s learned to somewhat live off from. The way his stomach growls, more than just something slightly human or in his system, it’s like his soul is growling of thirst, it’s what lets him know exactly what he’s hungry for. Blood. Red, gooey, delicious blood.

His day has consisted of trying his hardest to keep his fangs hidden as he goes about town with his business, and then through the woods for meals. His hands are itching to get a human neck on them and when the evening falls and he’s just getting home to get ready for the costume party, he’s rushing to his kitchen in his quaint flat, stumbling in desperation, reaching for the human blood packs he keeps stored in the fridge. He hasn’t been this hungry in years. There’s stains on his nurse costume which he thinks only make it more gore-y and halloween-y.

As he’s finishing another pack, you’re knocking on his door. He stops his suckling in the middle of his kitchen. He probably looks so pathetic, he thinks, hunched over the sink, making a mess of blood cause he can’t control his urges. “It’s open!” he doesn’t bother to go open the door for you he’s so busy trying to calm his thirst before you see him this way, but you’re walking in the kitchen and he can smell you before he’s done swallowing. “Is everything ok Harry?” your soft voice is like honey to his ears. “I’m sorry. God, been hungry all day” the words he speaks are muffled and cut off because of the mouthfuls of red he seems to be downing. “It’s ok” you reassure him, knowing it gets hard for him sometimes.

Then Harry’s done with it. He rinses his mouth under the faucet and prays his fangs calm down as he seems to have no control over them today. Sure he’s still craving something else, but he knows you have to leave for this party and he can’t just stay at home and drink his whole blood supply in one stormy full moon night, so he pulls himself together and turns around to face you and greet you properly after he’s gotten rid of any remnants of nasty blood he knows you hate. “Ready- Ohh, fuck” the moment the words leave his mouth and he sees you in his kitchen, he knows he’s everything but ready.

You are indeed wearing a sexy nurse outfit that couldn’t look any better if you tried. It was the perfect length, showing off your legs he’s very fond of gripping whenever you’re underneath or on top of him, and the costume is also very tight in all the right places, so much that he’s sure he could feel every dip and rise of your body if he were to touch you over the fabric. You thought it would be a nice surprise not to tell him you actually got a sexy nurse outfit for the night, and by the look on his face you were right. His jaw is dropped open and his chest is heaving up and down with lack of air, as his stands in his kitchen with a cute nurse costume splattered with blood, dishevelled hair and face mask hanging around his neck.

And Harry knows he’s in trouble right then and there, because now he’s hungry for you as well, and in a new completely different way. It doesn’t help that he’s been craving human blood all day long, in a hunger that seemed too unreal even for himself. “You’re kidding me.” he mutters under his breath noticing how suddenly the pastel green nurse scrubs felt a size too small and like something inside him, very unvampire-like, felt quite literally set ablaze. He’s frozen on his spot as you come closer and closer to him and he just takes in the figure of you walking his way. Swaying hips and flowing hair, exposed legs he’s itching to pinch and warm blushed cheeks. “This is so unfair” he whines as he’s finally got you close enough for his body to react and reach a hand out to squeeze at your sides. The impeccably white outfit has some give, it’s soft to the touch and very well made, which is a shame, he thinks, cause he just wants to rip it, and he knows that with the right amount of convincing you’d enjoy him tearing the fabric apart so he’d be able to take you over his counter.

“Hello” you mutter cheekily laying a red kiss on the edge of his jaw and his breath gets caught in his throat.

There’s not much he can think of saying. The scent in the air clogs his nostrils in the most delicious way. He likes it, it’s so you. With his raging hunger and this newfound emotion coursing through his veins making his paper-sheet white skin warm and red, his senses are extremely attentive, and he’s able to catch just how good your perfume smells, and how, right under it, there’s this very distinct aroma he can only call “you”.  

He places a hot kiss on your lips, not able to give any warning or to properly align your lips. He’s just pressing on, searching for you, for whatever of you he can have. His hands move freely, grasping here and there to his pleasure, edging moans to come bubbling out of you and get lost on the tip of his tongue. His needy body is pushing yours against his counter, searching, craving, as much contact as he can get but none of this is enough. That same feeling he’d woken up with, the shivers down his spine, the trembling fingers and desperate thoughts, were now tenfold with just the taste of you.

Without much thought you tugged at his shirt, signalling him to continue, to do something, anything. It took him a small fraction of a second to carry you to his room and lay you on his bed comfortably. He was done with being careful with your outfit and tugged at the short skirt with such force he was sure it should have torn to pieces by now. Your shaky fingers worked their way up his back and to his curls as he lowered his body down your frame. Removing your fishnets slowly, taking in the air around both of you right now. He had you just like that, so perfect and laid out for him like he wanted, legs opening slightly in reaction to his warm hands.

Romantic and sultry as always, Harry took his sweet time coming back down your legs on his mission to take off your lacy underwear. It was his favourite kind, and you knew it as he had told you countless times before while in the middle of rumbling climaxes, and he always tried to make the whole view and experience last, so he moved like honey down your legs, leaving small bites on them, a risky decision given his fangs were fully blown out and his fingers tingled with hunger.

The feeling of his teeth running down your legs mixed with how incredibly dizzy you were for him were the recipe for a completely new experience. You didn’t know exactly what it was but there was something similar to his craving for blood bubbling inside you as the temperature rose in the small room and Harry touched all the right spots. Suddenly you couldn’t form words other than his name, or elicit sounds other than mewls for him to continue his path to your centre. And just like that as you laid on his mattress and he inched closer and closer to where you needed him most, that was the night you surprised Harry with a peculiar request.

“Harry,” your voice trembled as you arched your back feeling his hot breath on your inner thighs, “bite me, please.” His face lifted, pupils blown and even rosier cheeks than he had before, at the sound of those words.

His breath got caught in his throat as he croaked a short “What?” in disbelief. But he had heard you. Loud and clear. He thought he knew what you were requesting but wanted to make extra sure, after all he knew he had to be very, very careful if he actually bit into you how he wanted.

“Bite me” you said and moved your thigh closer to his face, signalling where you wanted him to sink his fangs in. Your head lifted over your shoulders, looking down at him as he tried to keep a smirk at bay, excitement and thirst swirling in his eyes. This was an opportunity he was going to savour, pun intended, for as long as he could.

His warm and long digits pushed at your womanhood with precision, folding them over to remove your underwear, while his mouth laid kisses and soft suckles on your thigh. Your hands took hold of the sheets on top of his mattress, squeezing them in anticipation, head lifted as high as you could take it. You wanted to see the interaction, you wanted him to bite you and take you to another world and the giddy butterflies in your tummy made you alert, ready to see how Harry feasted on you in two different ways.

Your skin was warm, as he had always known, soft and somewhat sweet, which was something he couldn’t quite explain but had him reeling nonetheless. As his heart pounded with desire all he could think about was just how wonderful it will be to taste you. Opening his mouth wide enough he was ready for that thought to stop being just a thought, and he took a small bite, far from piercing the skin yet, hooded eyes directed at your face to take note of your reaction. There you were, ready and willing, and there he was, about to melt into a puddle of want.

The sting was clear, if you had to describe it, it was somewhere between getting your ear pierced and having someone take blood samples. The small pain didn’t stop with just the break of tissue, it stayed there along with his fangs, and the faster he tried to suck blood out of your thigh the more lightheaded and rushed you felt, somewhat of in a trance, or like you were suddenly very dazed… And hot. It was very hot. Your head fell back to his pillow with a long moan that matched the one leaving his lips at your taste.

His fangs left purplish marks on the edges of the small hole they created, similar to hickeys but, oh so much more than hickeys. His fingers in one hand played with your folds as he sighed in delight taking sip after sip of your blood. He was right all this time, you had a very sweet blood, or maybe it was just that he was so head over heels for you that this had become his favourite taste. He wasn’t sure what made you decide today you’d let him have this miraculous moment, but he was afraid it was a one time deal which meant he’d have to try his damnedest to forget this taste, or better yet, try his harder to keep the memory alive if this was to be the first and last time he’d get to have this feeling, this flavour. The one time he’d get to have you in his system this way.

But wether this was a one time thing or not, you continued to beg him for more, the feeling of his digits playing with your womanhood and his lips over the bite gave a combination that had you panting for air. “Fuck, Harry” you tried to spew out however you could between yelps of pleasure, as he turned his head pressing kisses around your other thigh before leaving another bite, levelling the field.

“I love you” he let out in his raspy but smooth voice before piercing the skin once more, making your body shiver. He took his time leaving purplish bite marks over your thighs and later on red-ish hickeys on his way up your body as he positioned himself on top of you ready to take the whole thing to the next level and share moans of pleasure as you both climaxed in desperate mewls and needy grabs.

Harry’s breath was on your neck as you both laid on his soft mattress, a mess of sweaty limbs tangled together, noses touching and breaths hitched. A post-orgasm cloud filled Harry’s room, the both of you spent, clothes long forgotten and too deep in cuddles to care. Your head still felt like it was dancing around due to the loss of blood and making coherent thoughts seemed like a hard job at the time, so you didn’t really care for anything other than laying next to Harry’s surprisingly warm frame.

“You know…” He starts pushing you a bit closer to his body “you were as delicious as I imagined”

You arch an eyebrow at him in mockery, as if saying ‘you’ve imagined this? Lame’. Rolling his eyes he moves in to press a short kiss to your lips. He wanted to ask, if you’d enjoyed it half as much as he did, but he was afraid you were still too hazy to form an actual review of the experience or that you’ll say you want more and not really mean it. Upon seeing the frown slowly build in his features you knew exactly what was going through his head, and with semi open eyes and heavy body you tsked at him grabbing his attention. “That was good” you wanted to say a bit more elaborate to really ingrain it in his mind that he shouldn't be beating himself up over something that had already passed and that you clearly enjoyed. But thanks to your heavy head, Harry didn’t fully buy that line, mouth twisting in disbelief. “Come on!” you whined. “I don’t have strength to talk. That’s good” “How’s that good?” He asks with a chuckle. Somewhere in the mess of clothes both your phones beep and he untangles himself from you to go search for his, thinking maybe it’s important if both devices seemed to be in sync. “Left me speechless” is all you can muster before slowly falling in and out of sleep as Harry searches deep in the pockets of his costume for the cold piece of metal. When he finds it and the light shines on his face, another chuckle leaves his mouth. “Niall wants to know if we’re going to the party or not” but you’re already fast asleep which he turns around to find out. With a soft smile he returns to bed pressing his thumb and typing a quick ‘sorry mate’ to Niall before tossing his phone on the bedside table and snuggling up to you, covering your cold body with his sheets. As usual Harry never really got cold through the night but you shivered, but the small warmth his vampire body exhumed wasn’t enough to keep you warm so he kept the sheets ready for you to cover your frame with.

Harry decides he will too, try to sleep a bit. Maybe if you wake up later and it’s still ok to go out you could try to stop by Niall’s place for a bit, but he doubts it. He did take quite a bit of blood from you in his devastating thirst, and he would apologise profusely for it in the morning.

What he doesn’t know is that in the morning, when you’re back being yourself and have regained your senses and the ache in your thighs has calmed down, you will explain just how much you enjoyed him biting your skin and sucking your blood, and just how much you really want him to do it again and again and again.

xoxoxoxo  me :)

[seasaltpaper]

Right Side

Inspired by a line in a beautiful work of art by one of my favourite writers ever. You know who you are. I hope this isn’t absolutely terrible and we can still* be friends. 

(*assuming we are already, if not, can we?)

Something about first time sleeping over...

“Yeh could stay the night” he had said that Tuesday night with rushed words and a generous pinch of nerves, plus gleaming eyes and fingers playing with one another in clear sign of shyness. Just that look had you very weak at the knees then. Those butterflies flew in a sea of nerves and felt very much like the ones you get right before your first kiss. The offer was tempting, specially because it was already ‘very late’, and you were ‘very tired’ and it was ‘very much raining outside’ and also because he worried. Very much so. His words, not yours, but he did have a point. Still you refused, noticing the small hint of sadness mixed with embarrassment in his eyes, – he worried and beat himself up in his mind that he’d been too eager to ask and this was not the moment for this. Maybe he was moving too fast? Maybe it had scared you off? Did you think he just wanted sex? Because he didn’t mean it like that – as you picked up your things and prepared to leave Harry’s house. 

Thinking back to it, your reasons for denying the deal were obvious. The weight of the question made you nervous which immediately had you scared and ready to say no. You weren’t prepared to spend the night and you had never spent the night at a boyfriend’s house before. Add that to the fact that while you and Harry had been dating seriously for a little less than a year, you had never slept with him. Yes, neither of the two definitions of “sleep”.

Sure you’d both fallen asleep countless times during movie nights on his or your couch where you shared the small space in the tightest of embraces – with you basically on top of him, just how you liked – and on rare occasions Harry had taken short naps after long studio weeks in your bed at your place while you babbled on the phone with some client or your boss, and you had taken naps in his bed when a friendly get together at his house drained you cause it was running a little late and you excused yourself from the small party consisting of his closest friends, to go rest up in his room until he came and woke you up to take you home. 

But in reality, not once had you both slept together on a bed and much less the whole night through. Waking up next to you was just a dream Harry had yet to see come true.

But as you left his place after rejecting the notion, something inside you – be it the love you had for that curly haired dork, or the excitement of having this very cute intimate thing with him – made you turn around and promise him “Saturday” “Huh?” “I’ll... We can... I can sleep over on Saturday?” just saying the words made chills run down your spine, the butterflies were there again flying in nerves and some thrill as well. The slowly deepening dimple on his cheek sang how much he’d like that. Pressing a kiss to your forehead and sending you on your way, –under promise to write him as soon as you were safe and sound in your humble abode – Harry was left giddy with the thought of you sharing the night with him. 

Which leads us to Saturday. Today. Your bags were ready, and you had that feeling of anticipation, those small anxiety chills were awake and moving. No time had been established but you just showed up at standard ‘come over’ time – meaning around 5pm, when the both you usually showed up or called for the other to come over to their house on a casual Saturday – and Harry opened the door with a flourish. He didn’t know how to address the whole situation. Should he have cooked a five star meal? Was this like a date? Should he have an elaborate plan? Was there a protocol? Was he even to mention the whole thing? And how could he go about it without insinuating sex? He definitely could wait until you were 150% ready, and he was sure that was not what tonight was for. He was letting his nerves consume him and all he was going to do was sleep on his own bed next to his girl for one night. Simple as that.

The whole ordeal felt so incredibly off. It was so much more awkward than your first encounter, not even the first date was this weird. You were acting like teenage kids who had crushes on each other and had been left alone in a spacious living room to play seven minutes in heaven. Everything was a lot more interesting than looking at each other in the face or talking. Clearly this was your first time sleeping over at a boyfriend’s house and Harry’s first time hosting a girlfriend for the night. 

“Oy, I can’t do this” he said after a small groan. “yeh’re sitting on the other side o’the couch. Feels like yeh’re countries away” he whined like a little boy pausing the movie. And he was right to whine. The whole purpose of this was to share some quality time with you and cuddle you and give you all of the cheeky kisses, not for the both of you to be giddy out of your minds to the point where holding hands feels like too much. He made grabby hands at you and the dorky mannerism made you laugh and ease up. Coming closer to him on the comfortable couch felt very relieving, something you didn’t think was going to happen tonight with how tense you were. His heart tightens at the thought that he’s made you agree to this under pressure, that he’s somewhat influenced you to do this, and he cannot take it. No matter how innocent the whole ordeal is, he would hate himself if you weren’t without an ounce of doubt on board.

“Do yeh wanna go home?” The words are considerably painful to spew. If you want to go home he understands, and will never bring this topic to light again for as long as you feel comfortable with. He doesn’t care about a bruised ego, it pains him more that he’s overstepped some line with you. It pains him more if you have a sour time, that’s what he wouldn’t forgive himself. But for his heart’s sake, you’re quick on your words. “What? No” your eyes are squinted in confusion at what he’s saying, what he might be insinuating even. That’s not at all what you want. You’re just... afraid, feeling very exposed. “Why?” “Well...” he clears his throat “I don’t want t’push yeh if yeh don’t wanta’ sleep ovah” the words come soft, like a small buttery whisper of reassurance that it’s ok whatever happens, you call the shots. “But.. I-I do. I want to sleep over. With you” There’s immediate heat to your cheeks, and truly it’s not because you’re lying or because you’re not fully comfortable now, – which you aren’t, in the best sense of the word. Just how no one is fully comfortable when experiencing whatever ‘first’ in life.– but because you feel so exposed admitting that you do want to sleep next to your boyfriend. You want cuddles and giddy kisses more than you’ve ever wanted them in your life. There’s a smile forming on his face considering he knows you well, he knows why you’re blushing and he also wants just that.  “Then I suggest we forget the whole thing... An’ just... hang out, and when it’s time t’sleep, we jus’... Sleep... Ok?” Large warm hands come to rub your arms in soothing motions, calming your nerves as you sit face to face, foreheads touching and legs tangling with each other. You whisper a small ok and allow yourself to melt into his embrace as you settle into a small cuddle and talk about your weeks. 

And just like Harry promised, when it was time to sleep, you just decided to go to sleep. Between awkward stances and nervous giggles you both worked through the whole bedtime routine. After dinner and binging some random tv show, Harry took a short shower as you brushed your teeth in your pj’s, careful not to stare at each others bodies through the tinted glass – you wore cute pink shorts and he was... naked. Enough said – and as you brushed your hair into a comfortable sleep-ready do, Harry settled into his sleepwear, thankfully donning a shirt for your sake.

Ironically enough, the shirt you picked up was an old one he once let you borrow after hanging by the pool one summer afternoon, and just like back then, it made him very happy to see you wear it, his stare and smug smile giving you instant butterflies and making you giggle shyly. Harry had seen that shy smile a thousand times today and it only served to settle it as his favourite thing you do. The innocence that radiates off you when you do it is enough to make him fawn over you, and he loves how you have no control over it, and he thinks about how you’re beautifully unaware of just how cute you are.

Coming together to the edge of the bed feels like some sort of life-or-death event is about to happen. Suddenly the bed seems too big and like you’re both going to drown in it. The white sheets look uncharacteristically intimidating and weirdly cold. Before you spiral down Overthinking Lane, you take deep breaths and turn to Harry, realising he’s doing just the same. The look on your faces is enough to have you explode in laughter. How silly is this whole thing? It’s just sleep. It’s just a bed. It’s just you two being very normal.  “What side do you want” You find yourselves saying at the same time, causing a second wave of laughs and cute snorts. And not too late after a third wave breaks through when you find yourselves saying “right side” at the same time. Harry takes this as a perfect moment to ease the nerves. “Too bad” he starts “I can’t sleep unless it’s the right side” pushing you out of the way so he can lay on the side he normally sleeps on.

You mock shock and push him back before he can sit down and claim it. With a chuckle he stops in his tracks and holds you at arms length. “Excuse you” “Yes?” “This is the part where you’re a gentleman and give me the right side” With fake confusion he tilts his head up, as if wondering whether or not you’re right about that statement. Should he let you have it? He decides you could use more fun and he’s not giving up his side of the bed – He’s made a perfect indent on it through the months, no way he’s sleeping on the uncomfortable side – and so he pokes at your sides making you squirm out of his grasp “Nope! My side!” he chants over and over as you squeal and jump around his room trying to escape his moving fingers and the tingles.  “Not fair, not fair, not fair” you repeat between giggles, trying to reach out your own hands to tickle him back. 

For a good minute or so you’re engrossed in a tickle fight, clearing all the tension in your guts and strain in the air. “Ok stop stop!” Harry’s quick to say when in the middle of the battle he’s thought up the best solution to the situation at hand. Picking you up in his arms –not without you letting out a short shriek first – he walks your bodies over to the bed where he lets himself fall on the right side with you right on top. “We’ll share it” he whispers to your ear giving you shivers. Two bodies trying to share a third of the bed is the funniest thing when you picture it in your brain but it is indeed the perfect fix to the problem. “It’s so little space” you giggle and he shrugs caressing your back under his shirt you’re wearing. “we’ve shared smaller” and you have. His couch is possibly a whole foot smaller than the space you’re sharing on the bed right now, and since you’re used to laying on top of him when you take naps there, your next move surprises him in the most pleasurable of ways. Scooting your body up on his until you’re laid perfectly on top has him wide eyed in surprise but quickly that’s replaced with a happy lazy smile on his soft features. Surely his body is more comfortable than his bed will ever be and right there and then you’re as cozy as ever. “There” comes out of your lips in a whisper and there’s nothing Harry can do but close the very short distance between your faces and plant his lips on yours in an attentive kiss, with lips soft as clouds and tongue warm as you know it, he presses a hand to your face to keep you in place as his other continues to rub circles on your bare back where his shirt has hiked up. 

Breaking the kiss you’re left to sigh in complete happiness. This wasn’t so bad. In fact this was beyond perfect. Harry’s warm chest vibrated with each word he said and it soothed your soul very much like how honey felt going down your throat when you battle a cold. “Are yeh comfortable?” He mutters against your lips and you nod your head, mouth too busy biting down on your bottom lip in shyness to try and say the actual word. “Well yeh’re on top dear...” he says casually, groping one of your thighs with his hand that’s not under your shirt on your back – as if the sentence wouldn’t give you shivers – and letting his head fall on his pillow, “‘S your job to pull the sheets over us” Harry smiles, cheeky green eyed boy as usual, and you roll your eyes at him sitting up on his pelvis – as if that’s not going to give him shivers – and reaching for the silky now-not-so-intimidating fabric and pulling it to cover your bodies. With the hand that’s on your back he reaches out to turn off his side lamp, enclosing you in almost total darkness.

Laying on his chest, sheets over the both of you, and head tucked in his neck, taking in his scent that you’re engulfed in, you feel the most at ease you’ve ever felt. Whatever reason you had to say no the first time he opted you stayed over felt like the silliest thing. You deprived yourself of this for almost a week, and neither of you were sure if it would be possible to sleep without this... The only word to describe it was peace. Warm, gentle, perfect peace. Harry had dreamed of seeing your face waking up next to him, but what he didn’t know is that the best part of everything was this right now. The slow breaths and feeling of bodies purely melting onto each other, the thudding yet calm heartbeats. He was confused as to how the weight of you on top of him somehow made it strangely easy to breathe. You wondered how just the ghost feeling of his hand on your back made you feel so free, but it did. It was perfect peace. “Good night Harry” you whispered pressing a kiss to his jaw and sighing as you wiggled your body into comfort. With a smile Harry returned the action kissing your forehead before sighing contently. “Best night” he whispered before letting himself go to sleep, thinking over and over how perfectly complete he felt. 

This is not proof-read. Wrote it in a heat while I should have been working on my thesis. Whoops. Sorry for typos I’ll edit them out later. 

[seasaltpaper]

Kay let me pose a question real quick : i wrote something for halloween a while back, with harry being a vampire (it’s not good, it’s basically fluff, a bit of smut, & not so much about the whole sci-fi of it) should i post it even tho spookyseason is over? Or nah?

[seasaltpaper]

Will Someone Love Me?

I don’t know what I’m doing but this came to me today. So here’s something I don’t really do much of anymore.

“Will someone ever love me like I’ve loved them?” she had asked. Harry was taken back but he wrapped an arm around her nonetheless. “is there a way of even knowing?” she wondered out loud and at the time, Harry had an answer.

Yes. There was a way.

“Through sincere actions… yes” he replied. And because she still looked confused, tears staining her cheeks, like she didn’t know anyone was capable of showing any sincerity when it came to love, he started to explain.

He started to explain to her how if someone is there for you, and cares for you and speaks the truth, then they have to love you. How actions spoke louder than words and that not everyone was always going to lie to her face. He explained how holding someone’s hand through a tough moment could carry so much more than just a friendly gesture. That sometimes just remembering some small detail that she thought was irrelevant could brighten someone’s day.

He understood her point of view. Just out of a toxic relationship and having had bad luck in love for the past 9 years can certainly drain you of hope. But he tried to put that hope back in her with his speech. He squeezed her hand in his, trying to comfort her as best he could. He ran his pointer finger around her back, remembering when she told him it soothe her.

He said that trying to cheer someone up can be a sign that they love them. That everything had some extra message we just had to learn to decipher. That there was no real explanation as to why someone had to do something or other to show they loved you. That was love; truly inexplicable.

In her eyes, Harry could see the doubt, he could see the pain and how she questioned his words. “then no one has loved me yet…” she whispered resting against his chest. And that was all Harry needed to realise that all he said was bullshit. That he couldn’t answer her question like this when he also wondered if he would be loved the same way he’s loved someone.

He thought of their friendship, and how it had evolved, and he thought of the times he’s seen her cry over someone that treated her wrong over and over. How he’s been there for her and tried to help her not lose hope on love. How somewhere down that path he began aching along with her.

Suddenly Harry didn’t really have an answer to her initial question, because, as he hugged her and sighed and gently wiped her tears with his thumb, he questioned if his actions really spoke as loud as he vouched actions did. He wondered if she’d ever love him like he loved her.