(DISCONTINUED)

○ 4.8 ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) The Talk ○

15K READS AND 1K COMMENTS, AND WE'RE 6 VOTES OFF 1K I AM FÛCKING DEAD I LOVE YOU GUYS SO FÛCKING MUCH

[[WE HIT 1K VOTES BEFORE I FINISHED WRITING THIS EEEEEEEEEEEEEE]]

This is late now, sorry :/
I never realise when it's time to update it's like oh another week has passed by and there's only 52 in a year it terrifies me how fast the days are going when I'm doing literally nothing with any of them and I won't ever get them back

I'm so inarticulate when I'm not writing

Dedicated to deviantstyles
Welcome to the family :)

*

"This is the worst idea," Harry complained.

I waved my hand dismissively, smiling up at him all the same. It seemed to be an uncontrollable reflex around him now, one that I was never aware of until my cheeks started to ache and jaw became stiff. "Shut up, it's not that bad."

"The worst," Harry repeated, shaking his head back and forth in despair. He looked so exasperated that I couldn't help but to giggle, which in turn forced a smile out of him. "Stop doing that; I'm trying to be mad."

"I'm not doing anything," I defended.

He groaned and fell backwards into the beanbags, running his palms down his face in mock exhaustion. "I know."

"So...?"

Harry's chest rose and fell in a sigh, hands lingering by his sides as he turned his head to fix me with those jade green eyes. "So you affect me so much it's ridiculous," he frowned. "I am so fùcking whipped."

Although the laugh I let out must have seemed casual, the way my life flashed before my eyes when my heart began doing somersaults of joy was indisputable as I leaned down to peck his lips, quickly sitting up before he could respond or trap me there.

"Hey," he whined, "that was mean."

"Suck it up," I grinned, though it took all of my will not to lean down and allow myself to be enveloped by those pouting lips. "That's all you're getting."

He sat up. "Rude."

"You love it," I teased, sticking my tongue out at him.

"I do," he admitted quietly, wrapping an arm around my shoulders so he could pull me towards him and press his lips to my temple. The simple action prompted a flood of warmth throughout my entire body that the roaring fire couldn't even match, the sensation of pure contentment being felt right down to my bones. Everything he did made me so happy, I realised, as I brought my knees to my chest and leaned into him, letting his scent tickle my nose. Every smile, every terrible joke, every perverted comment, even every breath he expelled from his heart-shaped lips brought me so much happiness it was hard to think back to a time where I wasn't happy. "I really, really like this," Harry announced after a few moments, breaking the comfortable silence.

"I really, really like you," I whispered, my fingers self-consciously fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt.

I heard his breathing falter just a little, but he hid it relatively well. "Slightly cheesy, but I'll take it," he joked.

"Twat," I muttered.

"Your favourite twat," he corrected, gently taking my chin between his fingers and turning me to face him. My eyes fluttered shut in anticipation, every nerve on high alert as I awaited the gentle pressure of his lips on mine - and yet he didn't kiss me for more than just a few moments. The prickling sensation that came with his gaze remained on my face, not moving for so long I was on the verge of opening my eyes and asking what was wrong when his lips landed on mine. By now they were more than familar, and yet I could never quite describe them: soft and smooth yet rough, like the petals of a rose and prick of its thorn. Words could only express so much, but Harry's gentle embrace spilled over with all the words neither of us could say. Every dip and fold of his lips overflowed with the feelings that we were both so new to, the same ones that were scaring the bloody shít out of me. It terrified me what I would do for Harry, and what I knew he would do for me. It terrified me that I'd rather have him beside me than a healthy relationship with my mother, and that I didn't care that I was often behind on my schoolwork because I was so enthralled by him. All I wanted was him. I was bloody eighteen for god's sake, barely out of childhood and so new to everything about the world - and yet I was sure that he was what I wanted. I had never been more certain of anything in my entire life. And yes, maybe I was crazy and young and naíve, but with Harry's lips on mine and his hands holding me as if he was afraid to lose me, I didn't care.