killer instinct - || h.s. ||

26

" i just wanna stay in the world we've created "

---

harry styles.

My consciousness slowly comes back to me, my senses gradually follow as I inhale lightly. The cold air dances along my back from the draft drifting through the window we never shut.

The light floods through my closed eyelids, burning my retina from the minuscule amount of sleep achieved last night – but at least it was something.

Until I perceive a small frame trapped under me.

I squint my eyes open, blinking a few times as the light only allows me to half-open my eyes. I realize now the familiarity of the situation as a smile curls on my face, burying my face into the crook of her neck.

Her sweet scent drifts off her skin as her soft breaths fill the room from above me, accompanying the traffic echoing through the city.

Her shirt must have ridden up last night because her warm lower belly presses directly to my bare skin. I chuckle under my breath at the position I've somehow managed to end up in.

And for once I don't want to go, it's selfish but that's what I am.

So I gladly take the opportunity at hand here. I sponge my lips across her soft neck, savoring every bit of it in tired kisses.

Her body begins to shift under me with a groan leaving her as I kiss along her defined jaw. Her body slowly comes back to reality, hearing a soft inhale and deeper exhale from her chest only allows for me to melt into her body more.

"Fuck's sake, Harry–" she suffocatingly grumbles. Her own morning voice, audibly coated in a rasp, sends chills down my spine.

I just deeply hum back to her, my tired eyes still shut as I have no plans of stopping my pursuit along her neck, delicately sucking and layering open-mouthed kisses along her throat.

She breathes out a strained laugh under me for it to vibrate from her chest to mine, forcing my lips to curl up against her skin. She attempts to push up her hips but only proves useless since I'm heavier than her.

"I can't breathe–" she tiredly chuckles. I lift my head abruptly, putting on an annoyed face with my eyes wide and my eyebrows knit together.

Her tired eyes blink up to regard every hue of amber and green sparkling in the morning light. Her dark hair is a right mess of wavy-curls, but I know I look just the same.

There's even a little drool at the corner of her mouth, internally smirking at our conversation too early this morning.

"Did you just call me fat?" I accuse her, watching her features light up, and she snorts. It only forces me to fake pout.

She chuckles in a fit of laughter, the joy vibrating under me but sending a weird feeling through my stomach.

"I did not–" she counters, and I shake my head in fake disbelief.

"You did ... it's 7 in the morning and you're already insulting me again, Ace." I roll my eyes at her, and she chuckles under me.

It baffles me if we're being honest, trying to understand how someone like her would ever want to hurt themselves but in some ways, I guess, I could understand it – we just had different ways of doing it.

She surprisingly cups my face in her calloused hands, lifting her head from the pillow and closing the space in between us.

Her soft lips surprisingly meet mine quickly. She pulls back just as fast, leaving the affection short-lived due to the lack of hygiene between the both of us right now.