Harry Lewis - Blog Posts

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exploring europe | harry lewis

summary: y/n & harry travel around europe together face claim: dua lipa

word count (minus the instagram posts) : 2.5k

a/n: hi!!! this is a bit of a longer instagram au with short blurbs following each instragram post . hope you enjoy! also please send in any requests, i'll be more than happy to do them <3

more stuff by me : masterlist

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first stop: ireland

liked by vikkstagram and 398,093 others! y/n_username guinness and a couple of goats ☘️🇮🇪 tagged wroetoshaw

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freyanightingale cool girl 😘

wroetoshaw don't pretend you enjoyed the guinness

calfreezy harry necking pints, shocker

vikkstagram are they circulr sunglasses i spot in the first pic? ↳ y/n_username ofc, the only glasses i wear!!!

faithlouiseak can't believe you're gone for a month

ynw2slove harry and the goat !!!! 🥺

sidemanxixfan too many goats in one photo dump

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In the rolling green hills of the Irish countryside, where the air was crisp and the scent of flowers hung in the air, Harry and Y/N found themselves on a mission to find the perfect pint of Guinness. It was the third day into their stop-off in Ireland, and the pair had landed themselves in the middle of nowhere.

''Just get your phone out and look on maps; there's gotta be a pub around here somewhere,' Harry sighed. 'I mean, we're in Ireland of all places,''

Y/N rolled her eyes. They'd been walking for over twenty minutes with no luck—Harry mumbling about having a feeling he knew where he was despite the fact he had never been to this part of Ireland. It must have been his pro-Geoguesser skills talking, but right now those skills were useless and they were lost. 

''I've got no service, H. We're in the back end of nowhere.'' Y/N laughed, watching as the boy looked around the endless green fields, not a house or person other than the two of them in sight, just a few cows and sheep.

''Alright, well, trust me,'' he said clapping his hands together. ''I think 5 more minutes walking this way and we'll find something.''

5 minutes turned to 10, and 10 turned to 20, but eventually, they found themselves wandering into a quaint pub nestled at the edge of the smallest town either of them had ever seen. Harry was thrilled, gloating at the fact that he had managed to get them here with no directions, leaving out the point in which he had to thumb a random car down and ask the person driving where the closest town was. Y/N kept her mouth shut, letting him have his moment.

So their mission to find the perfect pint continued, Harry ordering them two pints of Guinness and two packets of Tayto (Irish crisps), eager to partake in this quintessential Irish tradition.

''You know, this pint is going to blow your mind.' Harry spoke, placing a glass and coaster in front of his lover.

''Oh, I bet'' she laughed in response, rolling her eyes when he wasn't looking. ''What'd you say we just neck it? Make it a competition?''

Harry narrowed his eyes, staring at her with a look that said, 'as if you think you could beat me necking a pint' without actually saying it.

''Come on, it'll be fun,'' Y/N said, opening her bag of crisps.

''Alright, doll, but don't be complaining when I annihilate you'' stopping to point at her ''and this pint of Guinness.'' Harry spoke and Y/N sent him a playful eyeroll back in return.

''3''

''2''

''1''

''Cheers,'' they both said, clinking their glasses together and then tapping the bottom of the glass on the table, a drinking tradition they always did whenever they necked their drinks. 

The creamy foam tickled their lips, dancing on their tongues as they tilted their heads back in hopes of downing the liquid. While drinking, they traded friendly banter and teasing glances, Harry kicking Y/N's leg under the table in hopes that she'd get distracted.

What felt like an eternity was probably only a few seconds for the pair. In the end, it was Y/N who emerged victorious, hitting her glass down on the table before Harry could finish his own.

''Ha!'' Y/N laughed as Harry placed his glass on the table not long after her. ''Better luck next time, babe.''

''I let you win that, by the way,'' he said, taking a crisp from the opened packet on the table.

''Oh, shut up, you're such a sort loser, H.'' Y/N replied, laughing as Harry failed to meet her eye. One thing Y/N loved but also hated about Harry was that he was a terrible loser when it came to accepting defeat, and as much as she knew best to not wind him up even further, she found it hard to conceal her triumph.

''How about another round then?' She grinned at the moody boy across from her and said, ''Maybe I'll let you win this time.''

...

second stop: france

liked by behzingagram and 398,093 others! y/n_username mickey and minnie in disneyland 🇫🇷 tagged wroetoshaw

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calfreezy this is actually quite cute

ksi bring me back a present from disney pls 😁

faithlouiseak aww enjoy

taliamar missing you already 🥺

theburntchip course harry's got the minnie ears on

behzingagram harry looking fire with that headband on

wroetoshaw ❤️

w2sfan2 as if y/n's managed to drag harry to disneyland

sidemanxixfan bet harry begged for the minnie ears

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The second stop on Harry and Y/N's travels was France, and the pair had found themselves in Disneyland Paris. Harry wasn't necessarily a massive Disney fan, nor was Y/N, but she had said she wanted to go at least once in her life, and Harry was not one to ever say no to his girl.

So the pair found themselves in the heart of Disneyland, surrounded by the charm of Main Street, stumbling upon a little photo booth adorned with twinkling lights and colourful decorations.

"Look, Harry. A photo booth!" Y/N exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. ''Let's get some pictures!''

Harry grinned, following her, and she pulled his arm, his heart happy that she was happy.

They stepped inside the booth, greeted by an array of playful props—oversized sunglasses, feather boas, and, most importantly, Minnie and Mickey headbands adorned with sparkling sequins.

"Oh my god,'' Y/N said, reaching for a pair of Mickey ears and placing them on her head. ''Here, you take the Minnie ones.''

Harry laughed, taking the pair of Minnie ears for himself. "Hope these fit on my big head.''

With giggles of delight, they struck playful poses for the camera, their laughter echoing in the small booth as they captured memories that would last a lifetime.

As the flash illuminated the space, Y/N leaned in close to Harry, her eyes shining with happiness. "I love this, H. It's like we're teens again, just having fun together."

Harry smiled, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Reminds me of that shitty little photo booth we did back in Guernsey the first time you came to visit.''

They soon emerged from the photo booth, their cheeks flushed with excitement and their smiles reaching from ear to ear as they collected their pictures.

Looking at the pictures, the pair laughed at one another's silly poses, both agreeing it would look perfect stuck on their fridge with a magnet back in their London flat.

'Definitely worth the 12 euros.''

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third stop : the netherlands

y/n_username posted a photo!

liked by ksi and 420,924 others! y/n_username a few days in dam 🇳🇱 tagged wroetoshaw

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chrismd10 hope he fell off his bike

behzingagram what's in those cookies lads 👀

ynw2slover amsterDAMN harry is so fit

sidemenfan1 gorgeous in the first pic

tobjizzle enjoy guys 💙💙💙

theburntchip hope harry wasn't as drunk as he was when he went dam with the fellas ↳ y/n_username he was even worse😭

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The third stop of their trip around Europe was the Netherlands. The pair had found themselves in the heart of Amsterdam, where the streets buzzed with energy and the scent of freshly baked stroopwafels wafted through the air.

Amsterdam was always quite nostalgic for Harry and Y/N. It was one of their favourite places to visit, not just with the two of them but also with their friends. They knew all the good spots to go, the best bars, restaurants and especially what cafes served the best weed brownies.

''First night in Amsterdam, what'd you say we start with a brownie?'' Harry questioned, knowing that this would trigger a long night ahead of them.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, knowing what the pair were like when they were high, but ultimately her curiosity was piqued by the suggestion. "Oh, I don't know, Harry. Isn't it a bit early?"

Harry shrugged, taking her hand in his. "Come on, Y/N. When has that ever stopped us? Plus, we're in Amsterdam; where else are we gonna get the chance to get stoned off a shitty little brownie?”

With a nervous laugh, Y/N relented, allowing Harry to lead her into a cosy cafe that the pair had visited a few years prior. They ordered two brownies and two cans of Diet Coke and found a quiet corner to sit and indulge.

As they took their first bites, the rich, chocolaty flavour melted on their tongues, leaving behind a lingering warmth that spread through their bodies.

Y/N looked at Harry, her eyes wide with anticipation. "Do you feel anything yet?"

Harry shook his head, his expression uncertain. "Not yet, silly. Takes a while to kick in. ."

As they waited, Y/N and Harry exchanged nervous glances, their hearts pounding with anticipation. The pair had gone on a booze boat earlier that day and were only just feeling like the alcohol was wearing off—perhaps the two mixed together wasn't a great combination.

More time passed and suddenly , a wave of laughter overcame Y/N, and her cheeks flushed with excitement. "Harry, I think it's starting to work."

Harry chuckled, feeling a sense of euphoria wash over him, his eyes looking larger and puffier than usual. "You're right, love. I can feel it too."

Their laughter filled the cafe, drawing amused glances from the other customers as Y/N and Harry lost themselves in the joy of the moment.

As they sat together, hand in hand, Harry and Y/N realized that sometimes the best adventures were the ones shared with the person you loved most, especially when they ended in fits of laughter and memories that would last a lifetime.

''There's no one else I'd rather get completely baked with.''

...

fourth stop: stockholm, sweden

liked by wroetoshaw and 410,293 others! y/n_username celebrating midsummer in 🇸🇪 tagged: wroetoshaw

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freyanightingale pretty girl

wroetoshaw i'm still sneezing from all the flowers

calfreezy bog suits the flower crown

chrismd10 bog looking cute? can't believe it

faithlouiseak come home i miss you 😭 ↳ y/n_username only a few more weeks xxx

ynw2slover omg harry in the last pic?????? 🤤

sidemanxixfan mum and dad being adorable as per usual

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The next stop for the pair was the picturesque countryside of Sweden, where the summer sun danced on the fields of flowers and the air was sweet with the scent of blooming blossoms. 

Unknown to Harry and Y/N when booking the trip, they found that the days of their stay aligned with the midsummer festivities that Sweden had to offer. Y/N, with her bright eyes and infectious laughter, eagerly anticipated the festival, whereas Harry was less enthused. 

As they joined the festivities in the village square, Y/N couldn't contain her excitement. "This is so good, H. It'll be such a laugh later, making flower crowns and dancing around the Maypole.'' 

Harry forced a smile, but inwardly, he cringed at the thought of wearing a flower crown. While Harry was a boy most definitely secure in himself, the thought of a few flowers stuck to his hair made him feel a bit daft. "Yeah, it's great, Y/N. But do we really have to wear those flower crowns?"

Y/N eyes widened in surprise. "Of course we do, H! I've seen you wear questionable things over the years; surely a flower crown isn't where you draw the line?'' 

Reluctantly, Harry followed Y'N to the flower crown-making station, ultimately knowing that she was right and he had just been silly. They were greeted by a table overflowing with colourful blooms and delicate ribbons.

As Y/N eagerly began crafting her crown, Harry hesitated once more, feeling out of place amidst the sea of flowers. "I don't know, doll. I feel silly wearing this."

She laughed, gently placing a crown of pink and red roses on his head. "Oh, stop it, you look lovely! Trust me, everyone wears them. It's part of the fun."

Harry grumbled under his breath. The thought of the boys slating him in the group chat once they got a hold of a picture of him wearing the flowers, was in the back of his mind. Pushing the thought away, he decided to go along with it for Y/N sake, knowing all the boys had probably done a lot worse to please their missus. As they joined the other villagers in dancing around the Maypole, Harry felt him ease into the festivities a bit more, feeling comfortable with Y/N's reassuring grip on his hand. 

The music played, and laughter filled the air and he found himself getting caught up in the joy of the moment. He twirled Y/N around the dance floor, the flower crown long forgotten as they lost themselves in the magic of Midsummer.

''Guess I don't look that daft after all.'' he shouted over the crowd. 

The music and dancing continued until the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky blazed with hues of orange and yellow, Harry realized that sometimes embracing tradition meant embracing the ones you loved—even if it meant wearing a what he had once described as a 'silly flower crown'. And as he looked at Y/N, her eyes shining with happiness, he knew that celebrating Midsummer with her was a memory he would cherish forever.

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fifth stop : greece

liked by ksi and 420,924 others! y/n_username aye aye captain! 🇬🇷 tagged wroetoshaw

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behzingagram cute little sailor @wroetoshaw

ynw2slover you are so stunning!!!!

sidemenfan1 greece looks so pretty

theburntchip me and sabina were there the other week, unreal place ↳ y/n_username my favourite place i've been so far

wroetoshaw fit ↳ y/n_username me or you? ↳ wroetoshaw me obviously

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Greece was the next place that Harry and Y/N had found themselves on their travels. Swimming in the tranquil waters of the Aegean Sea, Harry and Y/N set off on a boating adventure, hearts light and bellies full from the fruit that they had devoured at breakfast. 

As they cruised along the shimmering surface of the water, Harry's playful antics grew more and more daring, fueled by the warmth of the sun and one too many shots of Ouzo. 

''Y/N, prepare to be amazed!'' he exclaimed, his voice slurred with intoxication as he stood on the edge of the boat, a grin on his face.

''What are you playing at now?'' Y/N rolled her eyes, accustomed to Harry's antics. 

With a flourish, Harry announced his intention to perform a daring flip off the side of the boat—a feat he was certain would impress Y/N. 

"Get your camera out, this’ll go viral!" Harry declared, his confidence buoyed by the alcohol coursing through his veins.

Reluctantly, she reached for her phone, trying to suppress a giggle as she aimed the camera at her swaying boyfriend.

But as Harry prepared to launch himself into the air, his balance faltered, and he stumbled awkwardly before falling unceremoniously into the water with a loud splash.

She burst into laughter, unable to contain her amusement, as she watched Harry emerge from the water, sputtering and coughing.

"You've had an absolute stinker," Y/N teased, her laughter echoing across the lake.

Harry sheepishly climbed back onto the boat, his pride wounded but his spirits still high. "A proper howler," he replied, trying to save face as he joined Y/N in laughter.

As they continued their boating adventure, Harry's failed flip became the stuff of a legend, a story they would retell for years to come, a moment that Y/N would be forever grateful she got on camera.

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last stop: iceland

liked by behzingagram and 398,093 others! y/n_username ice ice baby 🇮🇸 tagged wroetoshaw

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calfreezy sick pictures

faithlouiseak omg only a few more days and you're home 🥺 ↳ y/n_username can't wait to see your face!

taliamar very aesthetic

theburntchip got me wanting to book a trip to iceland asap

wroetoshaw ❤️

w2sfan2 kinda sad the europe travels are over

sidemanxixfan no more europe content i'm emotional

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The last stop on their travels was Iceland, where bubbling geysers and towering waterfalls painted the landscape in hues of wonder. It was their final day of their holiday, and Harry and Y/N found them immersed in the tranquilly of the Blue Lagoon. 

As they waded into the warm, mineral-rich waters, Y/N let out a contented sigh, her worries melting away with each gentle ripple.

"This has been amazing, Harry," Y/N said, her voice filled with awe as she gazed around at the ethereal beauty of their surroundings. ''The best few weeks of my life, I think.''

Harry smiled, his eyes sparkling with affection, as he reached for Y/N's hand, admiring the black swimsuit that clothed her body. "Glad we picked Iceland as our last spot, best way to end it I think.”

They floated together in blissful silence, the only sound being the gentle lapping of the water against the rocky shore. And as the night sky darkened, Y/N couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness that their holiday was coming to an end.

"I wish we could stay here forever," Y/N whispered, her voice tinged with longing. ''Gonna miss it being just us.''

Harry squeezed her hand, his gaze soft with understanding. "Me too, lovely.“ he paused moving his other hand to graze over her cheek. “But we'll do it again some time soon, I promise. Anytime I've got a few days free on the calendar, they're all for you.''

Y/N smiled, holding out her pinky finger and latching it on to his. "Promise.”

With a promise made, they watched the sun set over the horizon, holding each other close, talking about the precious moments they had shared over the last few weeks—moments filled with love, laughter, and obscene amounts of alcohol. Moments they would remember forever.

...

wroetoshaw posted an instagram story!

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hollytoshaw: thanks for reading!!! this is my favourite instagram au i've done so far so i hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as i did making it <3333 pls send requests to my inbox. thanks for all the love so far <333

so wholesome I love it🫶🏻🫶🏻

a sunday kind of love | harry lewis

summary: y/n and harry's wholesome sunday together face claim: dua lipa

a/n: feel free to request anything harry lewis related!!! thinking about writing a longer fic instead of instagram au's soon so any ideas would be much appreciated <33

other stuff by me linked here: masterlist

- y/n_username posted a photo!

liked by chrismd10 and 650,242 others! y/n_username sunday mornings with my love tagged: wroetoshaw

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w2sfan24 omg mother feeding us this sunday morning liked by y/n_username ♥️

anesongib looking good bogger

chrismd10 smash

behzingagram oh harry

ynw2slover this picture screams post shag

sidemenfan1 i'm so down bad for this man

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wroetoshaw posted an instagram story! y/n_username posted an instagram story!

story replies : wroetoshaw

↳ calfreezy enough food to feed all 7 sidemen on that plate bog liked by wroetoshaw ♥️

↳ behzingagram must be bulking season with the size of that plate of food ↳ wroetoshaw big boys need food liked by behzingagram ♥️

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y/n_username posted a photo!

liked by taliamar and 310,243 others! y/n_username lazy sundays tagged: wroetoshaw

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taliamar such cuties

freyanightingale wholesome babes

ksi how many plants do you two need ↳ y/n_username always room for more jj

calfreezy that jumper is outrageous bog liked by y/n_username ♥️

w2sfan3 love these two together

sidemenlover5 bet they're watching the new sidemen sunday ↳ y/n_username of course

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For Y/N and Harry, Sundays were sacred - a precious day of peace amidst the chaos of their busy lives. It was the one day of the week they cherished above all else, a day in which Harry had no sidemen shoots and Y/N wasn't stuck halfway across London in a studio working late nights recording songs.

Each Sunday morning, as the sun peeked through their shutter blinds, Y/N and Harry would wake up with a sense of anticipation and excitement. The pair would brew a pot of fragrant coffee (some independent coffee beans that Harry had picked up on his travels), the rich aroma filling their cozy kitchen as Y/N started cooking up Harry's favourite breakfast, a full English.

With their cups of coffee in hand, they would retreat to their sunlit living room, adorned with plush sofas and soft blankets, and settle in for a day of relaxation. Cuddled up together on the sofa, their legs entwined, as they indulged in some of their favourite pastimes - watching random Youtube videos they had saved to their watch later or scrolling through Tiktok, showing each other silly videos that they knew the other would find hilarious.

As the morning turned to afternoon, Harry and Y/N would muster up the energy to venture outdoors for a leisurely stroll through quiet London streets, hand in hand, breathing in the crisp air. They would visit their favourite spots - Y/N dragging Harry into overpriced clothing boutiques, him following behind, arms crossed, pretending he didn't enjoy seeing her get excited over a questionable-looking pair of shoes. Not long after, Y/N would grow tired of shopping, squeezing Harry's arm to get his attention, ''I'm hungry again, '' she’d say, to which he'd roll his eyes but would rush to fish his phone out of his pocket to find a quaint cafe on Google Maps that she could have a pastry in.

Upon returning home, they would make a simple lunch together - a spread of sandwiches, salads and soup - which they would enjoy in the comfort of their small balcony attached to their flat. Even though it was small, Y/N had decorated it with some garden furniture, fairy lights and a few plants, transforming it into an oasis of greenery and comfort. Harry hated to admit it but she had a better eye for decorating than he did.

As the sun began to set and the sky turned shades of pink and orange, they would go back instead to cozy up on their sofa, covering one another with blankets. A warm glow on their faces as they shared stories of dreams they had the night before, their voices becoming hushed in the quiet of the evening.

When the series they were watching came to an end and stars emerged in the night sky outside, Harry and Y/N would retire to their bedroom, hearts full and bodies weary from a day spent in each other's company. The pair would fall asleep wrapped in each other's arms, grateful for the precious gift of Sundays - a day to relax and revel in the love they shared.

Ready to do it all again next Sunday.

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hollytoshaw : i'm obsessed with making these so hopefully you all enjoy them because i really enjoy making them <333

My absolute fave of yours!!! I’ve probably read it like 14 times🫶🏻🤭🫶🏻🤭🫶🏻🤭🫶🏻

TELLING | h. lewis

summary: you tell all your closest friends and family the news! [9.5k words.]

pairing: reader x bog (W2S.)

notes: loveddd writing this 😭 enjoy!! plz let me know what you thought!! who was your fav?!! and don’t forget to reblog <333

“I JUST DON'T KNOW HOW TO TELL ANYBODY.”

You were standing in your room, biting your nails, suitcase laying open on the bed where Harry lay with a leg hanging off the side. He still had his coat on but his shoes kicked off as you’d both just come straight home from the hospital, where you’d had your first scan at 10 weeks.

“Why are you biting your nails?”

“‘Cause I feel like I'm 14 again and about to tell my Mum I’m pregnant!” You spat, feeling the nerves creep up you.

You had everyone to tell now. Now that you’d had your first proper scan where you can visibly see your babies, told they were as healthy with a steady heartbeat, you had no reason holding you back from sharing the good news.

Especially with a 10 week belly — you’d already began looking a little round in your t-shirts.

“Y/n, I–I don’t know how long I can keep it in. Do you know how hard this has been for me? Do you know how much self-control it has cost me to not blurt something out?” Harry went on a rant as he starred into the abyss, thinking of the last 2 months and the company he’d been in — the company of his best friends almost every single day, keeping this humongous secret.

“But how do we tell them?! Like . .” you stood there, lost, not knowing what to do. “When’s the perfect time?”

“Any time! Look at the size of you already!” Your mouth dropped open offendedly, “they’ll see it before they’re told! They’ll know soon enough if we have to go to one more party and you have to explain your alcohol cleanse or cover your non-alcoholic label on your tin!”

“ . . Harry, that was really mean what you said.”

“Oh for fucks sake!”

The first people you had to tell — was your parents. His parents and yours. Of course it would have to be, could you imagine their reaction if they knew you’d told all your friends before them?! They would be the only people you’d have to do it a certain way — a sentimental, special way . . wasn’t it? You were going to Guernsey anyway for the week, your case half-packed by the time you stopped to scroll through announcement ideas that weren’t too over the top, while Harry proceeded twisting and frowning at the scan, trying to suss out what position who was in and if he was (impossibly) able to identify who was what gender. It really had been the hardest 10 weeks of your lives, for a pair that was open with everyone in their circle, so Harry couldn’t wait to get some relief on his shoulders, while you somehow believed everyone was going to be mad at you.

“Oh my — no, I can’t do this— no—”

“OW Y/N!” Harry’s ripped his arm from your nipped nails, throwing your a glare as he changed gear.

“Sorry! Sorry!” You withdrew your hands to yourself, not meaning to dig your nails into him so hard - you were just nervous and didn’t know what to do with yourself. You were just one lane down the road from pulling up to his family’s home, feeling your fingers shake and your knees weaken as you sat in the front seat, scared to face them. “I’m just nervo—”

“YEAH. I KNOW. I KNOW YOU ARE,” he looked at you between the sudden red light, leaning his head and arm on the window, he could have laughed at your statement. Gosh! Well you don’t say! You’d been a nightmare this ride over. If it wasn’t getting him to pull over every 10 minutes for the toilet, it was criticizing his driving just 10 times more than usual.

“WELL SORRY I’M SCARED. Can’t wait to see you when it’s you telling my dad he’s gonna have a grandchild.”

Do not even remind me, Harry closed his eyes, already on edge as it was driving down the street.

You both had a little white box each, one disguised as a box of cake, the other, a box of cake, just so they didn’t suspect something odd when you walked in with one tied with a little ribbon. “Calm down.”

“NOW DON'T TOUCH MY LEG ‘CAUSE YOU GET ANGRY WHEN I TOUCH YOURS!”

“YEAH! ‘Cause when you touch mine you—” he did it! Slipping his hand right in between your thighs and tickling the inside, under part of it - the most ticklish spot on your body. You jumped and clawed his hand off, feeling the car slightly nudge as he carried on, laughing and smiling proudly, “NOW HARRY, DRIVE THE CAR!” You yelled, trying not to get all flustered as you threw him a look, “—and stop looking so sexy doing it!”

The hormones would be the end of him. He couldn’t hack you having 2 emotions at once. He shook his head at that, his hand at the bottom of the wheel as he carefully turned it to the left as he pulled into his driveway.

Fuck me, you mentally whined, scared the box would drop from your hand. It was only a little announcement: 2 babygrows inside, two dummies in opposite corners and your pregnancy test in the middle.

“Think it’s a bit weird you put the stick you pissed on in it,” Harry pursed his lips as you fixed it neatly one more time.

“Well I think it’s a bit weird I’ve to look your family in the eye and basically tell them you spunked in me, so,” you screwed your face up, not caring what he thought.

Great, now you were walking in with a moody face, his Mum watching you make your way inside from the window, questioning what on earth her son said to you.

But you greeted her with the biggest smile, holding out an arm as you balanced the box in the other, embracing one another in the cutest hug. “Hello my darling!”

“How are you,” you smiled, hearing the door close behind you, “brought you a little cake,” you held the false box up before placing it on the counter.

Harry walked in after, raising the same box to show he had ‘the same’ before crouching to hug his Mum. “Where’s Dad?”

“Right there,” she pointed to him just outside the house, waving in through the window to let you know he would be 2 seconds to come see you both.

“Where’s Josh? And Rosie?” He added, casually leaning on the counter, folding his arms.

“Up the stairs. Any more questions?” She joked, turning on the kettle.

The two of you made eye contact, not knowing when to make the first move.

“What cake did you bring me?”

You made eye contact again, Harry moving out of the way and handing you the box. “Mum, I'll make the tea, you can sit down,” he offered, coming into her space and forcing her out of the corner.

“Oh, alright then,” she sat down at the table, eyeing the box in your hand, “what is it Y/n?”

“I think it’s just a Black Forest gateau,” you opened the lid for her to see it.

“What's the other one?”

“Just . . some buns . .” Harry smirked to himself stirring his mug, “DAD! Do you want a cup of tea?!” He nodded for his dad to come inside.

You nervously tucked your hair behind your ear and reached for a knife to cut the cake, beginning to feel a little sweaty in the kitchen. “JOSH! ROSIE! DO YOU WANT A CUP OF TEA?!” He yelled even louder, shouting at them more so than for them. You worried if he was now a little on edge. You squeezed his muscle and he put his hand on your back for a second, rubbing it as he reached for the milk. “OR CAKE?!”

You heard thumping upstairs in response to that, guessing Josh was now rushing to get out of the shower and Rosie finally bringing all her dishes and bottles downstairs.

He gave you a little nudge at the back of your leg, impatient for the others, feeling like now was the perfect time.

Oof. Here it goes.

Your fingers twitched. “Uh,” you scratched your hair, sliding the box onto the table, “do you want one of these?” You lifted the lid, and her face fell.

It fell . . into complete, and utter — shock.

She starred at the pregnancy test, the first thing to take her eyes. “NO!”

“No?” You squeaked out confused.

“AGH!” She shrieked, standing up, the chair scraping against the tiled floor as her hands flew to her mouth, cupping it in disbelief while her eyes stayed stuck on the box, glossed. “NO!” She refused. There was no way. There was absolutely no way.

That was not yours. This wasn’t serious.

You were both having her on.

“NO!” She repeated again, this time turning her head to you, and to Harry who was giddily laughing at his Mum freak out.

“Yes Mum, I promise! I promise,” he approached her slowly.

“N—” she paused, thinking of what to say, and again, “no!” except her voice croaked this time, the tears in her eyes fully filled to the brim as she shook her head in denial, feeling like she was dreaming. “No, you’re lying to me! They’re yours?” You could barely make out what she was saying, her voice had turned so chokey and dry. You were nodding exaggeratedly, concerned at her face, feeling like you were about to cry seeing her like this.

She was really, really heartfelt. This was too much for her to take. You just kept nodding! “Yes! Yes, they're mine, I took the test!” You assured, slowly reaching your arms out to her.

She was frozen. Her head whipped to you and whipped to Harry, and when she looked at you both, seeing Harry give a little awkward laugh while rubbing your back — she crumbled.

She fell to her seat, hands covering her face and she sobbed. Harry looked at you, completely lost on what to do while you looked at him with tears of your own, your heart bursting for the woman. This was the best reaction. “Mum,” he awkwardly laughed again, “Mum, are you okay?” He placed a hand on her shoulder. Her head raised as she placed her hand over his, wiping her eyes with her knuckles, she couldn’t get the words out. She was honestly awestruck. The lump in her throat felt like a rock, it was too painful to talk. “Mum,” Harry laughed, trying to get her to calm down, looking at you for help. “Mum.”

She held his arm and then stood up, going for the full embrace, she gripped him, hiding her face in her hand as her son hugged her, he was laughing and you were crying, reaching to turn the box for her to look at properly again.

“What’s going on in here?”

Harry’s Dad walked through the back door and at the question, his Mum burst out into proper tears, shrieking she gripped her husband's arm and pulled him over to the box, “H-HONE — LOOK!” She stood behind him as glanced into the box, and you caught how his mouth fell open and he reached to lift the stick at the top.

Harry’s Mum cried aloud, “Oh I can’t, you two!” She wailed, drying her eyes before jumping to you, realising she hadn’t hugged nor congratulated you yet. “My darling!” She cried, wrapping her arms around your neck before rocking you both. Both your shoulders were soaked with the other’s tears. “Are you for real? Are you serious?” She pulled away to hold your shoulders, needing the confirmation although she was already so far gone.

“I’m serious! I promise you,” you nodded again, smiling, and that only made her cry more — because, well just look at you! The daughter-in-law of her dreams!

You led her to the other chair so the two sat down, the box between them. Harry’s poor Mum’s hands were shaking covering her mouth and his Dad couldn’t stop starring and inspecting the contents inside. The smile was stuck on his face. “Is this actually real?”

“Mum, yes!” Harry nearly groaned, completely humored by both his parents’ state of shock. “Actually,” he looked to you confusedly, “do you not have the . .”

“OH!” You jumped to your handbag, pulling out the set of photographs you’d just received a couple days ago to show them. You let the collage fall open so all 5 photos were revealed.

She wailed even more. “PISS OFF!” She cried even more, reaching for the photos, and the pair of them sat starring at those as well, completely shocked that they were them. That they were real. They were yours. You were growing them.

You were growing their grandchild.

She sat crying even more at the table while you and Harry accepted the fact you weren’t getting a ‘congratulations’ until they both calmed down. It was heartwarming though, your heart a puddle as you watched them both take in and struggle to adjust to the news.

You heard a thunder of feet come downstairs and turning the corner into the kitchen, Josh and Rosie poked their heads in suspiciously, wondering what all the racket was about. “What happened?”

Their dad held up the scans and both their faces fell.

Their heads turned to you, and to their brother. “NO.”

“Swear to God,” Harry held up his hands to prove he wasn’t lying, and from the way he smile and the soft, awkward laugh — they knew this wasn’t a prank.

Their brother had really put you up the duff.

“Fuck off!!” Josh jumped into his brothers arms for a quick second like they were Shaggy and Scooby-Doo while Rosie’s hand slammed to her mouth as she rushed to look at the box.

She couldn’t believe her eyes. “NO.”

Oh my God? What was with this family and no? “Yes,” you confirmed, blocking out Josh and Harry jumping up and down in the kitchen.

You hugged Rosie for the longest time, a lump forming in her throat the thought of you making her an Auntie. You. Literally, one of her favourite people in the world - if not the one. The big sister she never had. The one who always treated her like an adult even when she was 15, and invited her around to your house with your friends when her own didn’t bother to ask. Her best friend. Not many could say that about their brother’s girlfriends, but with you — Rosie thought the world of you.

All the family did.

“Oh my God,” she sniffed, smiling through wet eyes, “congratulations?!” She hugged you, and hugged her brother, who rubbed her arm comfortingly. What the hell. Her brother was going to be a dad. He was going to have a child.

“Are you serious?” Josh asked you, coming over to see if you would tell him the honest truth, and while you put your arm around his waist and nodded with your hand on your chest, he still refused to believe it.

“Uncle Joshhh,” you sang, making a breakthrough as the name seemed to bring everyone down to reality.

Uncle Josh. Auntie Rosie. Nana and Grandpa.

Great, just make everyone in the family feel older than they are.

“Oh my God . . . ” their mum finally mumbled into her hand, feeling like she was just starting to come back down to earth.

“Do you know there’s two of them?” Harry tilted his head while flipped the picture to point at the two little circles in the scan.

“TWO?!”

“TWO?!!”

“TWO OF THEM?!”

It was so loud in this kitchen.

“TWINS?!” Rosie twisted her head up in his direction.

“Twins! Two of them!” He confirmed, smiling at the family. “Don’t ask where that came from.”

Nana-To-Be burst into a cry again, her hands back to shaking.

After a cup of tea each and a bit of cake to help ease the nerves, everyone was gathered in the kitchen, having taken almost an hour to adjust to the news but still very much shaken by it. His Mum and Dad eventually ‘officially’ congratulated you both, holding their son extra tight as if it was the last time before he set off on this adventure on his own. They told him how proud they were and how happy, and how there wasn’t anybody else they would pick for either you two to share this journey. They were overfilled with joy.

“I still can’t believe it,” his Mum muttered, tapping her nails to her third glass of tea, “two of them.” Her eyes widened.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Her husband squinted his eyes, his arms folded.

“I dunno,” Harry’s voice raised, “it says tall people have a higher chance and other shit but I am certain Y/n’s gran told me her brother was a twin or or mums brother was a twin.”

“Was he?”

“I don’t know,” you raised a shoulder. “Probably just our ‘luck’.”

“Karma, you mean,” Josh said from the counter, and somebody punched his arm.

“What did you do? How did you find out? Were you planning . . ”

“WAS I PLANNING? WAS I PLANNING TO HAVE A CHILD?” Harry retorted sarcastically, “DO I LOOK LIKE I WAS PLANNING TO HAVE A CHILD?”

Rosie laughed into her arm, feeling sorry for the pair who had her brother to deal with as a dad.

Even his Mum laughed, and Dad. Silly question.

“I found out on my own, he was filming a video.”

“Remember I told you she was sick before I went away?! And you said she’s always sick!”

“She is,” his Mum defended, knowing about your weird tick.

“Well, I knew it was a different sick. I knew something was up with my girl.” He shook his finger, as if warning them to never doubt him.

“So were you not surprised?”

“Fucking sure I was, fucking nearly fainted in the bathroom when I seen the lines. Drove to the chemist right after, bought 4 more.” He crossed his arms as he explained to them all. “Think I was drunk when she told me to be fair.”

“Did you cry?” A foot tapped you with a chuckle.

“I literally sat on our bathroom floor for about 2 hours, being like ‘they’re not my tests though’,” you laughed, “like i’ve peed on them . . but they’re for someone else.”

They laughed at you, seeing it perfectly in their head, you having a dilemma on your own.

The house was content and in silence, everyone thinking their own thing and in their own world, wondering what the house would be like a year from now, and the noise it would be filled with then, with two extra pairs of feet crawling about and squealing to fill the gaps of silence.

“I’m so happy for you two. So bloody happy,” his mum shook her head once more in disbelief, craning it to look into the box once more and feel the soft cotton on the little onesies. Onesies she’d be keeping for her little grandbabies to slip into soon. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

Making your way down the driveway to your house wasn’t that much of a different story.

“Oh your Mum is going to laugh in your face when you tell her,” Harry cackled from the front seat, holding your family’s box on his lap.

The day you had your own child (a daughter especially) was the day your Mum felt like she could kick her feet up and relax and let Karma take its course. It wasn’t that you were some horrifying, demon child to raise — but let’s just say you’d been as headstrong as you were now since you’d been born. You were just like your Mum. Good luck with that, she would say, have fun trying to explain to her why moving to London with a boy you told you’d hated throughout school isn't the best idea when she’s 17 x.

She loved the thought of grandkids though — but the best was the thought of getting to hand them back at the end of the day for you to deal with. Ugh! And she’d be a Gilf.

When you walked in, your Mum caught you on the way to the kitchen, attempting a wave to know she acknowledged you both, balancing her phone on her shoulder and holding the washing basket full of clothes for the washing machine - gossiping down the line to one of her longtime friends. Harry felt like he’d just seen you in 20 years time.

You both went in the kitchen and sat down, waiting for her to end the call as you texted your sister where your dad was. Harry sat at the table quite stiff, his eyes in a daydream and hands awkwardly rubbing the other.

OH! So, he was nervous now!

His mood only worsened when he looked up and saw you trying not to laugh at him.

“Hello my honeys,” she hugged Harry’s head under her arm and then your head as the empty wash basket preoccupied the other, “give me a minute ‘til i leave this back,” you quickly heard her footsteps up the stairs.

Sophie came downstairs with an amused expression, home for the weekend from Uni, holding her pet bunny in hand, “hello,” she greeted, leaving her mug in the sink, “what are you two doing here?”

“We have a surprise,” Harry muffled with his chin on his hand.

Your sister looked to him and looked to you, walking over with a hoaxed laugh as she peaked into the box, “what? A cake?”

You saw it, her reaction and the way her eyes widened as she legitimately opened the the box with the surprise, causing your own eyes to expand, as well as Harry’s as you both realised what she’d just done.

She was frozen, for about a minute, her hand still in place as her mouth hung open. And then they closed, and she shut her mouth, and walked out into the hallway to register what just happened.

She didn’t know what to do.

You didn’t know what to do.

Harry didn’t know what to do.

Then your Dad walked in through the door from work, smile breaking out at the sight of you both sitting at the table, “what’s happening?” He greeted, squeezing your shoulders as he passed by into the kitchen, slapping his hand to Harry’s before shaking it and patting his back.

Harry’s terrified eyes were locked on you as he squeezed your Dad’s hand, suddenly regretting all of his life choices.

“Get the kettle on,” your Mum reappeared as she entered with her mug in her hand, ready for a refill.

“Here,” Harry’s shaking hand held out the box for her to take.

“You cut it,” she encouraged, moving out of his way.

Harry looked at you confused and you didn’t know what to do either, seeing how he just got to his feet and walked to the counter confusedly. “No, Mum—”

“Plates are in the top cupboard now,” she added, stealing his seat. “Well. What have you two been up to? Did you go view that house the other day?”

You paused. Ermmm.

What? What did you do now?

“Here’s your fork,” Harry improvised, handing her the test and turned back around, and your Mum plucked it from his hand with her eyes still waiting on you for an answer.

Woman! Won’t you look!

Upon feeling the odd plastic shape instead of her heavy metal fork, she furrowed her brows at the prank before her mouth immediately went dry and fell open. Her head snapped to Harry, who was shuffled in the corner all awkward and giddy, and then to you, who pinched your lips nervously at her sharp head turn.

And then she looked back to Harry.

And then she looked back to you.

And then she looked back to Harry.

And then she looked back to you.

“ARE YOU GOING TO SAY SOMETHING?!” Sophie shouted from the doorway.

“Surprise . . ?” You raised your brows anxiously at her silent shock.

The test clanked to the table and her hands covered her mouth, her reaction much quieter than Harry’s Mum. “Are you joking?”

You slowly shook your head.

“Are you JOKING?” She repeated more so to herself, lifting a foot up to her seat as she adjusted to the news. “IS THIS A PISSTAKE?!”

“No! No, we promise, it’s for real!” Harry chirped in, trying not to laugh at your Mum’s swearing. “H—” fuck, he had to tell them there were two, “here—” he passed her the box she was originally supposed to look in. Sophie pushed past your both and came to stand next to her Mum, mouth still open as they both peaked into the box. You could see your Mum’s eyes gloss over and Sophie’s brows furrow with disgust as she inspected the stick you’d peed on.

“What’s all the shouting about?” Your Dad came out of the bathroom drying his hands, seeing two of his girls looking down into the cake box. Sophie immediately twirled around and unmeaningly pointed to Harry, “pregnant!” her eyes widened. And then she realised her mistake and moved her arm to you.

Your Dad’s brows were furrowed confusedly when your Mum held up the babygrow, and his gaze softened as he took it from her hands. You looked over at Harry to find him awkwardly picking at breadcrumbs by the toaster, avoiding eye contact.

“Are you both being serious?” Your Mum’s voice was slightly croaked as she lifted from her seat with her empty mug she desperately needed to fill with tea — or wine.

“Yes Mum, I’m being serious,” you almost sighed, wondering why everyone thought you’d be joking about this. “It’s twins!”

“TWINS?!” Glass hit the floor as the middle cracked into 5 big pieces.

“TWINS?!” Sophie shrieked.

“EH?!”

“B–Jesus Christ,” Harry’s hand covered his face as he tried to hold in his laugh at the family.

You looked at them panicked, dropping open the slides of scans you’d kept in your bag. “Yeah.”

They snatched it from you, Sophie handing you her rabbit as she inspected it like a mum does her receipt at Tesco, looking for the two blorbs identified as babies.

“AGH!” Your Mum held her chest, feeling the tears fill her eyes as she took a seat again. “Please. Please tell me this isn’t a prank.”

“Mum, for God’s sake, I’m not joking!” You almost laughed. “I’m really—” you fumbled for the words, “up the duff.”

“Knocked up?”

“Yeah, knocked up,” you scoffed at your sister’s words.

“Oh my God!” Your parents didn’t take as long adjusting to the news as Harry’s, quickly congratulating you with hugs and kisses, although, your Mum’s did come more out like a question, and Harry didn't like answering them with your Dad standing there. “—I mean . . like . . are we calling them a surprise?—”

“Yes. They’re a ‘surprise’,” you gave her a bland look.

“You think they planned them? You think they’re willingly settling down here?” Your sister stifled a laugh that even made your Mum snigger. You mocked her as she approached you. “I mean I'm kidding but . . I’m not really,” she hugged you with a playful smile, “but I am happy for you. And you,” she reached to wrap her other arm around Harry’s waist, “this will be a laugh.”

Harry laughed loudly at that because that was perfectly true.

“My babies. Where did the time go?” Your Mum looked at you both with her head on her hand. “When did you get so old?!” She cried. Where were the cute pair of teenagers who used to trot downstairs between breaks of Eastenders and raid her kitchen cupboards for biscuits? Who called to see what she was making for dinner and what Harry’s Mum was making for dinner to decide on where they would eat?

“And yet they’ve still growing up to do,” Soph mumbled as she finally moved to get her slice of cake.

“Didn’t we all?” your Dad grinned once dropping the broken glass into the bin. “They’ll figure it out. Won’t you?” He came to stand next to you, for the second time, youthful sharing a handshake with Harry to help ease his nerves. He did appreciate the nervousness to him, and the awkwardness he never really had around him. Looking at him brought back memories when it was him telling his father-in-law.

“I hope so!” Harry agreed while you raised a shoulder.

“Now don’t say that,” your Mum stressfully placed her hands on her hair, “last time you said that, they were drunk and lost in Majorca and had no passports—” your Mum began to second-guess everything.

But, despite the jokes made about having to fight with the in-laws now for the Nanny or Granny title, and concerned concepts of what you were gonna do if Harry left them upstairs to watch a match on TV, you felt the love from your household, from even your sister’s spoilt rabbit that looked like he’d melted on you with the way he lay on your chest.

But then the remarks came from your Mum — ‘what about your festivals? Where are they going then?’, ‘Y/n, can you even plait hair?’, ‘Harry when was the last time you woke up at 9 o’clock, nevermind for a night feed?’. She was having a field day. You’d caught her laughing at her phone at her co-workers Facebook post, saying how “thank god I’ll have pretty grandbabies to post.”

“They might be pretty, but they’ll reek of au—”

“I dare you to finish that sentence, I actually dare you,” Harry ticklishly squeezed the back of her neck and Sophie jumped and escaped him with a proud grin and middle finger aimed at him.

“You’ll have to buy 2 of everything! And discuss your parenting tactics!”

You frowned at that, “I think it’s a bit early for that.”

“Never too early for that. You might be surprised by how many differences you have.”

You and Harry both tilted your head at each other, yeah, okay mimicking your gaze. You were one. Your minds were the same.

Your Mum looked at you both mocking her. “Laugh it up, I’m being serious. I could list 5 things right now you’ll disagree on.” She stirred her tea.

Yeah right.

“For one, you gonna use shampoo on their hair?” Harry’s face dropped and he looked at you, as you looked at him, both minds set on an answer but looking at one another — you knew they weren’t the same.

And that was the start of it.

Your Mum left for the living room, sipping her tea with her slice of cake, a smug grin on her face as she left the pair to discuss in the kitchen.

After telling probably the most important people in your lives the news, the ones whose reactions really mattered, you’d have thought the nerves would have eased and the rest would feel much smoother.

Well no. Harry was losing sleep over how he would tell the boys.

“Do I slip it in casually? Do we go out for dinner? Do I tell them separately? Should I just text them?—”

“Do not text them it,” you rolled your eyes, rubbing coconut oil over your slightly popped stomach. “Just . . yeah, do it over dinner. Do it when they're all together, I think that’ll be best. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

Harry found himself at a shoot; it was only for MoreSidemen, but everyone was together for once, chilling on the sofa, and it’d been a super chill day. There’d been laughs, there’d been plans made, there’d been reminiscing of old times. An easy day of work. It was a very wholesome moment between the group to have been sitting there on the couch, chilling now that filming was done, finishing off whatever drink had been set out for them and simply enjoying the company between one another. Harry was laying in the corner, scratching his hair with a beer in hand, wondering how on earth he said it. It was the perfect moment because he realized he didn’t want it to be a big thing, but JJ was currently talking about an American deal he was about to sign and Simon had just got done telling them all about the perfect spot of land he’d found for him and Talia to start building their dream home.

Jesus. They were so old.

“Boys,” he caught their attention, messing with his hair as he didn’t know what to do with his hands. “I—” well now it was funny, trying to keep a straight face, because if he laughed they’re not going to believe him. “I have some exciting news,” he phrased like he was shooting a video, keeping them on their toes as he gave questionable glances.

“Pregnant.” Ethan stated.

“You single?” Simon guessed.

“D’you get a new car?” JJ wondered, slouched right down into the seat.

“Oo. 1 truth, 2 lies,” he bit his tongue humorously, seeing the anticipation burst through them as they all sat up.

“Are you broken-up?” Vik lightly chuckled, knowing fine rightly that could not have been the answer as he’d been texting you as per usual on shoots.

He shook his head as Josh’s mouth slowey pulled into a grin as he guessed, “ . . so you got a new car?”

He shook his head again.

Everyone was just watching him with delayed reactions, when really their insides were sparking and clanking trying to wrap around what that then meant for the truth.

Eyes widened and jaws went slack, tips of lips turning outward as everyone just froze.

Behz was right next to him, his jaw hanging open to his left that Harry kept looking from him to the others, to him to the crew.

“WHAT?” JJ sat up, his voice high-pitched and on the verge of breaking out into his famous laugh.

Ethan screamed, and he screamed again, hands covering his mouth in between as he took in the news, as he made sense of what he’d just been told.

“Are you serious?!” Simon shouted, leaning forward to touch his knee in a seriously grounding moment, needing the confirmation so he could fully react, and Harry nodded, still trying to hold in his laugh as he bit his tongue.

Ethan screamed again and got up off the sofa, tripping as he turned around and looked at him, his fingers hooked in his mouth. Everyone had the highest grin on their face along with a widely-open mouth, but Harry could clearly see they were seriously too stunned to speak. He laughed at himself, at how he’d stunned them.

“Are you serious?” Kon asked behind the camera, and when Harry nodded again, it was like they’d finally hit the play button.

“You’re lyin’ bro,” JJ rocked back like an egg before standing to his feet to congratulate him in a handshake-hug, “swear down.”

“I swear, mate, I promise,” he laughed giddily, holding his hand clasped as he locked eyes, trying to find any hint of denial and falsehood. “I swear down.”

“Brooo,” JJ squealed, lowering to pull him into the biggest hug, patting his back with a prideful smack, tingles running up his arms.

“BROOO! Ain’t no way!!” Tobi shrieked from his spot, hugging him second. Harry patted his back when Tobi grabbed his arms and looked at him, sincerity dripping in his voice, “Harry I am so happy for you, bro. Are you kidding?”

“Mate I swear,” Harry assured him, patting his side.

Tobi hugged him again, filled with delight, “brother, congrats!! I’m honestly — I can’t even word it. I have so many questions.”

“So do I!” Simon butted in after, looking at his best friend in disbelief as they clapped hands and shook, Simon throwing his arm around him and squeezing him. “Brother! What?! Since when?!”

“Honestly, it’s been a whirlwind of the last few weeks, I can’t even remember,” he awkwardly scratched his head, feeling like a weight was finally lifting off his shoulders. “We just got a scan like, the other day—”

The word scan made it all that more real and harder for the boys to take in, with faces being pulled and hands holding chests, they had to sit back down.

So he meant it.

“Do you have it?”

“Y-yeah, yeah I do!” He searched for his backpack, passing it to Tobi and JJ who immediately hunted to the bottom for it.

Vik’s face was most surprised but he eventually hugged and congratulated his best friend too, expressing his happiness and excitement to be named ‘Uncle Vik!’ which Harry adored, “love you, man. This is amazing.”

Josh hugged him too and ran his knuckles into his hair, expressing his congrats but also questioning him, ”what are you doing?! You’re supposed to be the baby of the group!”

Harry was smiling as he tried to fix his hair, Josh’s arm still around his neck as he looked to the boys who all viewed him the same way.

Eventually he turned to Behz who was sitting with his elbows to his knees, his hand on his mouth, head shaking in utter disbelief. When Harry laughed at him, he bounced up, attacking him with the biggest hug, they almost fell over, laughs unable to be concealed. Ethan picked him up and bounced him in the air, chanting “Baby Bog! Baby Bog! Baby Bog!” ‘til everyone was shouting it and Harry was laughing with sore cheeks. “I was going to tell you first but you was hungover when we planned to go out!” He shoved him.

Ethan held him for the longest time, probably the most excited as he finally had someone to join him on this road to fatherhood after he’d recently just merged onto. And who better did he want with him? He couldn't believe it. Suddenly, he felt less singled out of the group and less lonely in a sense. He was already making a million plans for the future. He gripped his arms and gave him a heart-to-heart convo of how excited he was for Harry and how proud of him he was.

They all were.

“Do you want another surprise?”

Their heads perked up like dogs.

“Do you know what it is?” Josh guessed.

“No. But I can tell you how many there are.”

“HOW!—” Simon stuttered, “HOW MANY THERE ARE?!”

“HOW MANY?!”

“WHAT?!”

He was closing his arms into himself defensively as the boys jumped and celebrated him again, feeling their hands slap him and rustle his hair into a mess again.

“Is that what that other little circle is?!” Tobi pointed to the questionable looking shape.

Harry nodded, Behz’s hands shaking his neck ticklishly as he tried to steal a peak at the ultrasound.

“BRO! Ain’t no way!” JJ exclaimed once again in disbelief while Vik turned his head questioningly at the picture, “twins?!”

“So far,” he confirmed, “u—unless one of them eats the other one.”

The more they talked about it, the more screaming Ethan did and more questions JJ fired. His camera crew congratulated him also, emotional that the baby of the clan they’d been working with for years was finally at the stage in life where he couldn’t be seen as that anymore. They cracked open another case of beer and poured some XIX for celebration, everyone quizzing him on the rundown of things as JJ quickly booked a table at a restaurant for them to all go out to eat.

Harry couldn't have imagined a better reaction, he didn't think he was able to feel this loved and appreciated by people not related to him. But he did, and he loved them as much back, grateful to have each one in his life, who loved and looked after him like a brother. He couldn’t have wished for better friends. Honestly.

You were doing the rounds today, getting up early to go tell each girl individually after plans fell through and they couldn’t find a time to meet up for lunch.

So you started with Freya, the older sister you never had, your London Mum, who’d known you longest since your days when she was blonde and you were a small, newly, love-struck 18-year-old who’d followed her boyfriend to big scary London — where she took you under her wing. She deserved to be told first, so you knocked on the door and sat on the sofa, catching her before she headed out for her hair appointment.

“Hello, babygirl,” she hugged you, welcoming you inside. “What brings you here?”

“I have a little surprise for you,” you proposed, hand lingering on your handbag.

She curled her legs up on the sofa and propped her head on her hand, looking at you oddly, “okay . .”

“Do you wanna guess?”

“No. God. I hate when you do that.”

You laughed at that and nodded. Fair. So, you pulled the row of pictures out so the back faced her, and you watched her increasing confused face turn as you slowly flipped the photos around, seeing the realisation dawn on her.

Freya cried. Her palms covered her eyes as you held her, laughing and slightly crying yourself. “Are you serious?!”

“I swear! You’re the first I've told,” you grinned, drying your own tears.

“My angel,” she clung to you, the pair of you laying down on her couch, crying into one another. “I am so unbelievably happy for you. You were made for this. You will smash this.”

Her words melted your heart to a puddle. “Don’t because I'll start crying again.”

“I can’t stop crying!” Talia wailed from her seat as the mascara ran down her cheeks.

Her hands were shaking with the picture in her hand, her sleeve wet and stained from her makeup as she cried into her sweatshirt, and through your own happy tears, you laughed at her. “What the fuck, Y/n!” She sniffed.

“I know. And two of them,” you widened your eyes.

“Two of them has ended me. How are you going to cope?!” she laughed, before hoarse, “I truly cannot comprehend this. What does Harry think?!”

“Harry’s like an orb just floating through space at the minute. He’s been so chill, I’m waiting for a mental breakdown — no, I'm waiting for a midlife crisis.”

Talia laughed loudly at that while you rubbed her knee, besotted by her response. “I can’t believe this. Why are we all getting so old? Why — how?! How are you going to have a child?! Children!”

“I don’t know. Who allowed this?”

“Sorry but you as a Mum: I can see — Harry? Harry? Harry Wroetoshaw?!”

Yeah, what had you got yourself into. “I’ll be raising triplets, more like.”

“He’ll be great! All the instincts kick in, I’m sure!” Ellie sat across from you with your hands in hers. “You will both be phenomenal, I already know. Those kids are going to be the luckiest babies ever,” she awed, her cheeks sore from the smiling she couldn’t stop doing. “Cutest too!”

“Stop it, you’re making me cry, here,” you fanned your eyes at her sweet words. Wasn’t Ellie the best?

“Do we need another cup of tea? I think we need another cup of tea.”

“I’ll take a cup of tea, babes, yes please,” you grinned as Olive was passed into your arms.

“I’m on it, doll. I have your mug sitting at the front of the cupboard,” Faith left for the kitchen while you kicked the ball for Rolo to chase after whilst bouncing baby Olive in your arms. Faith was picking up laundry on the way and firing it into the wash basket, claiming that she and the house was a mess but you’d told her they were quite literally beyond your daily standards. “What’s been going on? Any biz?” she eventually joined you in the living room.

“I mean, I guess I have some news for you. Might lose your marbles over it.”

“Babe, I am listening. Tell me, I am all ears,” she dropped down onto the sofa, ready to hear all about whatever inside information you had.

“Well, you know what, it’s more so a surprise for Olive,” you smiled, digging into your bag for either the scan and pregnancy test, “. . you know how you said she’s in need of a friend?” The collage of pics fell open.

The tea in Faith’s mouth spilled out onto the sofa.

You couldn’t even get your next sentence out, you were laughing so much, “s—she’s getting two,” your body jerked with cackles, holding out the paper.

Faith screamed snatching it from your hand, and screamed louder as she stood on the sofa, kicking her feet into the cushion. Olive was so unbothered, clearly used to the chaos in this house.

“YOU'RE JOKING ME! YOU ARE JOKING!—”

“I’M NOT! I SWEAR! I SWEAR!”

“YOU'RE NOT!” She looked at the scans, squealing again and clutching it to her chest. “YOU ARE LYING TO ME!”

“Faith, I promise you!”

Incomprehensible sounds left her mouth as she starred at the evidence of truth, seeing Infant, Lewis typewritten at the top that had her smacking her hand to her mouth. You’d thought the girl had gone through 20 different stages of acceptance, from screaming and jumping to curling to a ball on the ground crying, she was in utter disbelief but most definitely the most excited. “No stop it ‘cause I’m already thinking of Mummy Dates,” she cried into her tissue, “the things we can do. Olive! We’ll have someone to join on our walks now when Daddy’s away to work!” She shook her daughter’s tiny hand excitedly. “And– oh my God. I’m gonna have to drink for you like you drank for me when I was pregnant,” she looked at you promisingly, “I stand up to the challenge,” she saluted. And then when you both laughed, she wiped her eyes and leaned over to you, squeezing her arms tightly around you, being careful not to squash Baby O, she hugged you tight. “I love you so much. I promise to have your back – I will look after you when Harry is being a dickhead. I will — I will know the struggle and I will guide you through it. I have you, girl. Whatever you need. Whether it’s to beat up Harry or to shave your legs — I got you.”

“I love you so much,” you embarrassingly croaked into her hair as you (group) hugged. “What did I ever do without you?”

Telling the few of your friends from school/uni was nothing special, but you didn’t want them to find out online so you gave them a call or dropped it in the groupchat which spawned utter chaos. You might not have talked everyday but they were good friends in your youth and they were over the moon at the news, immediately confirming their attendance for whatever baby showers you had coming up.

You both knew Freezy had to be told in a special way, considering, well it was Calfreezy, and he’d probably be annoyed if he didn’t get special treatment. That was Big Bro. “I brought another jar, just in case,” he placed the sauce on the counter with his reusable shopping bag.

You’d all be standing around in the kitchen, waiting for your dinner to cook like old times as you all spoke from different sides of the room. “Bro, baby potatoes are so cute. Baby anything is so cute,” he picked up a baby carrot to crunch on.

Harry looked at you and you looked at him, smugness taking over.

Freezy watched you both. “What.”

You looked at Harry to go ahead and tell him.

“Y/n, why’s he looking at me like that,” Cal looked at you for help when he went quiet, clearly clueless as to how to say it. Maybe ‘hopefully you find Baby Lewis cute!’ or just something.

“We’re having a baby potato.”

You actually had to lean on the counter with your head in your hand.

“W—Well we’re actually having two baby potatoes,” he corrected, seeing your reaction.

Freezy looked around like he was on another planet, “the fuck is he on about?”

Now he was getting flustered and scrambled over to you who was laughing at his failed announcement, laughing, he pulled your jumper up a bit, exclaiming, “look! See?! S—look!”

When Freezy looked at your stomach, just about a bump evident, and stringed together Harry’s previous words, baby potato, we’re having . . a baby potato, his smile dropped. His carrot dropped. “What.”

“Oh my God, I’m pregnant,” you deadpanned, slumping your arms.

“FUCK OFF! YOU’RE NOT!” He leaned on the counter for support before his legs buckled.

Freezy had never felt so old in the span of a minute. Had never felt so drunk whilst being stone-old sober at a time. He felt like he’d just been hit with something, how he felt wobbly all of a sudden.

Looking at the two in front of him, he realised, you weren’t the two teens he once had to look after in your early days of London. Gone were the days when he came to pick you up after your friend’s 18th birthday in Ibiza or buying Harry’s drink when he didn’t have his ID to prove he was of age. You were really grown up. You were having a family. You were adulting in life.

Starting the next gen. “Oh my God.” Suddenly you felt like you were at a wedding as the two boys swayed in a hug in your kitchen, comforting each other as you continued stirring the dinner in the pan, letting them have their moment. Freezy had already claimed godfather title and laughed when it really hit him, unable to imagine his best mate, someone he saw as his little brother — be someone’s dad. Funniest fucking thing. He asked every question there was too, until you physically could not give him an answer because he was beginning to ask the likes of ‘what names we thinking?’

“Mate. They’ve just about grown arms at this point or I'd still class it as my sperm,” Harry childishly laughed across from him at the table.

“Bro. That’s mad,” he squeezed his hair. “I need to phone my Mum. I need to call Chip.”

Chip found out when Harry went out for drinks with the Troops. Harry went out with a few of The Troops too, and such over a pint late at night. “Do you’se want to know something?” He tipsily appealed, as if he was about to rhyme off a riddle.

They all stared at him in silence, egging him to go on.

No build up? No drum roll? Oh. Okay. “Pregnant. Y/n.”

Harry knew they’d be emotional but Jesus Christ, the drink really heightened emotions. But he took all the loving he was getting, drunk or not, he appreciated it. Chip nearly knocked the whole table over when he bounced out of his seat and somehow Theo fell off his chair. He had to call you to get you to confirm which result in Chip smashing his phone when he grabbed it from him.

“NO YOU’RE NOT YOU BIG LIAR. YOU’RE HAVING A — A LAUGH! YOU — YOU MEAN BITCH—”

“Y/N DON’T HURT,” Chris hiccuped into the phone, “DON’T PLAY US LIKE THAT!”

Harry was laughing his head off, especially when the boys were almost shedding a tear when they finally believed you ranting over the phone. They were more than gassed and kept the celebrations going, of course, getting their digs in and firing questions with pints in their hands:

“Oh my God — you got her up the duff!”

“Jesus. Call ChildLine now.”

“How’d you manage that?”

“She fuming?”

“Great. Another weird Guernsey kid,” Chris rolled his eyes and Harry shook him. He knew he was screaming inside.

“Two weird Guernsey kids.”

“Fucking hell! You gonna make them fight for everything?”

Jokes aside, all of them were gassed. Harry was surprised how many of his friends were ringing their mum’s to tell them. It was strangely heartwarming. The night had been so good that they’d almost forgotten all about it. He’d woken up to a text in the groupchat, ‘did harry say the mrs is pregnant or did i make that up’, to which he replied, ‘no, she’s really up the duff’, and the congratulations all rolled in again.

After it felt like you’d told everyone important over the course of the month, going to bed felt even more relaxing after it felt like there were no more secrets to hide. Being in the company of everyone again since passing on the news, you’d been viewed in a new light. The boys were still trying to wrap their heads around it - Freya trailing Josh over to see your little bump and Tobi still stunned but gracefully sharing his apple juice at every party event. Everyone laughed every time at the thought of Harry having to parent, and you couldn’t lie that you didn’t join in with the boys when they patronised him about having to go to parenting classes and play daddy daycare when you went out - because you did.

Your circle was quite some size, but they were people you trusted with your life, so they were all in on the special secret, now understanding and getting virgin cocktails for you — no longer trying to force shots of sambuca down your throat like Chip had done.

You loved them all so much.

Although, you couldn’t deny that there was a nervousness deep within that you couldn’t place was coming from.

“Look how good she looks and she’s a trimester ahead!”

Scrolling through social media and comparing yourself was never good — but fellow pregnant women who were going through the same difficulties as you? Well that was just soul-humbling.

You looked to your right, to your boyfriend laying on his side, in a daydream, looking at your stomach as you sat up against the headboard, judging and listing every pregnancy-related link this girl had to recommend. You looked at him oddly, and when he felt you staring, he looked up. “Mad they’re in there.”

“Mad.” You agreed, mocking his words.

“What’d you say?”

“Look at her,” you flipped your phone to this jaw-dropping woman who made pregnancy look so effortless.

“What about her?”

You looked at him unimpressed. “Why does nobody talk about the shit you go through? I need someone to tell me it’s ok to look like shit.”

“You don’t look like shit,” Harry almost scoffed.

You shot him a look.

“Ok! You look like shit,” he told you what you wanted to hear, turning back to face the TV at the end of your bed.

But you didn’t look like shit. You might have felt like it as you came to the end of your first trimester, but you didn’t look it. You never did, Harry argued, yeah, your hair could be wild and you had a few spots breaking out on your chin, but Harry ate that shit up. Being considered perfect pestered him — seeing you have a matching pimple on your head like him, your nails chewed down and raggedy, or even complaining about needing a tan after both being deprived a vacation, he thought it made you prettier. His pretty, natural girl.

You locked your phone and slipped your arm around the back of his neck, feeling him pat your knee under your duvet as you eyed the screen, mind still on your social media snooping.

“We need to tell the internet.”

“No.”

“Harry,” you groaned at him and sat up, seeing him try not to laugh at you in your slumped position. Yeah, you made pregnancy look so hot, you bet. “Come on. I’m nearly 3 months. Is it supposed to be a secret forever? Are you keeping them in the dark for the rest of your YouTube career?”

“And say what?” He rubbed his head, knowing you were right.

“I don’t know,” you held his face, complaining. You didn’t know how to do it either, “ . . but I want to get sent free stuff.”

You both laughed at each other at that, finding your confession hilarious. I mean realistically, though . . some people got sent free £1,000 prams and everything from big brands! “We have to.”

“Alright. Post what you want. Make everyone feel old.”

“Oh I will,” you stuck your lips to his cheek in a kiss before picking up your phone again, “cHiLdhOOd hErO wRoEtOsHAw iS gONna bE a dAd, AhHh.”

“Shut your mouth.” He tried not to laugh next to you. “What do you say? What did Ethan write? His was a good caption.” He read the YouTube reference.

“What do I write?”

“Dunno.”

“Well you’re great help,” you texted Faith instead.

“Fuck sake. His was so good! What could I say?!” He bit his nail curiously.

You laughed evilly. “I’m captioning mine ‘Faith’s the Dad.’”

“DON'T YOU DARE.”

Liked by behzinga, sidemen and 7,828,827 others

wroetoshaw #LucksRunOut #HowMuchIsChildBenefits #Trapped4Life #TwoForOne

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*comments have been limited*

Liked by wroetoshaw, mollymae and 3,282,017 others

yourusername swipe to see my initial reaction x

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Literally one of the best Bog fics ever🫶🏻🫶🏻

SAVING GRACE 2.0 | h. lewis

summary: y/n and harry go on the saving grace podcast and discuss the firsts in their relationship, making the other cry, play mr and mrs and vote who’s hornier! [22k+ words.]

pairing: reader x bog (W2S.)

notes: someone take tumblr away from me because who the hell is writing 20k fics on here?? am i ok?? 🥴 yeah, i hope this explains the long wait. hopingggg you all love it, i tried to pack it full of things we’ve discussed on here and make it cute, and again, if it wasn’t brought up - i promise it will be brought up in other pod fics i have planned - hopefully not as long as 20k . . 🥴 anyway! like and reblog, plsss let me know what you think! what was your fav part? what didn’t you expect?! lots of love 😚 don’t forget to reblog! <333

“WELCOME BACK EVERYONE to another episode of Saving Grace where today I’ve been informed what is probably one of the most exclusive pod episodes I’ll get on this channel because getting this guest on here was like a one in a million chance according to my management—” Grace shot a look to the camera as she held a hand out to her two guests to her right, “Mr Harry Wroetoshaw and his Mrs!”

You both took that moment to smile at the camera, Harry removing his hand from his hoodie to give a small, awkward wave.

“Welcome back!”

“Thank you!”

“Please introduce yourselves for the people who may or may not know you, although I highly doubt it.”

You and Harry looked to each other, waiting for the other to do so. “I’m Y/n,” you looked to the camera, “this is Harry. You may know him from the Sidemen. W2S,” your hand hit his chest, “I’m the gold digger girlfriend.” The pair laughed at your remark, Grace recalling your last convo while Harry shook his head.

“Thank you both for being here, honestly, Cal has hyped this up so much, I’m almost nervous,” she fanned herself.

“I know, I’m surprised we’ve both got here today,” you smiled at her, and then to Harry who was still fairly quiet.

“She has all the ground rules laid down for me.”

“What?” Grace laughed.

“I said to him on the way here, I was like ‘you better not be sarcastic all the time and leave me to do all the talking.’ ‘You better not be on your phone,’” you rambled as Grace laughed next to you as she linked the situation to a parent telling their child to behave before attending a social setting.

“You make it sound like— you make it look like you had to drag me!—”

“He hates — Grace, he hates everywhere. Don’t take offence, he doesn’t wanna be anywhere,” you apologised and she laughed more.

“How— how did you get him here today? Because Freezy was stunned when I told him you told me you were both coming,” she laughed, and Harry felt bad with how awful that sounded. . . but he still couldn’t believe he’d agreed to it either. “How?! What negotiation was formed, what deal? What did she do for you? Has she promised you a fun time later or was it blackmail?”

You chuckled at her wink to you. Harry looked at you and you were the one rolling her eyes at the agreement you’d came to, “we didn’t have one, I’d convinced him to come anyway and then the boys - I dunno! It was all fine and then last night, you were texting the boys—”

“I was not.”

“You were! You literally only pitched it last night like it was a clever idea ‘cause you were talking to the boys!”

“No.”

“Okay.” You looked to the side. “There was no deal but he - literally before walking out the door, he was like ‘if I’m going on this, you have to go on Pitchside next week’. So,” you rolled your head to Grace.

“Pitchside?”

“It’s anoth - it’s his friends podcast, they watch football matches every week and,” you waved it off.

“Why do they want you there for?” She laughed.

“So they can take the piss out of me.”

Harry laughed out loud beside you because it was true.

“What the hell, that’s so random?” she laughed. “Well, glad you’re both here anyway. I’m excited to dig into our convo, do you both need a drink before we start? Y/n do you want to sort yourselves?”

“Sure, I know my way around here,” you both laughed, jumping to the back to pick a bottle of drink to mix. “Do you want Gin or Malibu or a beer or—”

“I’ll take . . yeah I'll take a beer for now,” Harry sat up as you passed him a bottle.

“Of course. We’ve got time. We’ll get to the hard stuff, don’t worry,” Grace winked to the camera as you both laughed. “How are you both? What were you doing before you came here?”

“Cleaning his dirty football boots,” you measured the amount in the glass, allowing the viewers to picture you standing over the kitchen sink scrubbing the grassy pair of yellow boots.

“As you do,” she chuckled, “what about you, you seem a booked and busy man. Day off?”

You kept quiet so Harry would actually talk.

“Yeah, yeah,” he didn’t deny, scratching his head, “I’m good, I’m–I’m impressed by the - the studio setup you know. Good Management.”

“Yeah, the boss is a bit of a wanker but he’s good at what he does,” Grace went along with a diss for Calfreezy which Harry liked and laughed at. You smiled by the bar, setting the bottle back. “He’s not in the office today so I don’t worry about any interruptions.”

“Thank God,” Harry rolled his head to his shoulder.

“Cheers guys!” Grace raised her glass as you both clinked your things, “let’s get to it! So!”

“So,” you both echoed.

“I’m starring at one of the most beloved Youtube couples — the UK’s most beloved couple it feels, and yet, you never meant for this to happen, it wasn’t intentional, was it?”

“No,” Harry agreed, keeping comfy laying in the chair with his hands in his hoodie pocket.

“We spoke last time you were here about the privacy of your relationship and how you originally wanted to keep her in the dark, correct?” She included you both.

Harry nodded.

You tried not to laugh at him. You’d have thought he was sitting in his own home with how chilled he was behaving, you almost wanted to pull him to sit up straighter. Nice to know he was comfortable.

“How have you got to this point? When did — run me through the timeline. Let’s hear your point of view,” she pointed to Harry with interlocked hands before settling them by her lips like an investigator.

He exhaled a long breath, looking at the ceiling as he thought up an answer, “so . . I . .” he looked to you, “it started not long after we were together, I was just making videos in my room and compared to now—”

“—he was just making videos in his room but for his 800,000 subscribers,” you mocked his words as he downplayed them.

“It wasn’t 800,000–”

“IT WAS!”

“EIGHT-HUNDRED THOUSAND?! WHAT?!”

“I remembered he used to say he did YouTube and I didn’t really care, I was like fair, he had about 800 which was a lot to me anyway,” you emphasized, “I thought ‘oh, he’s good at what he does’ — NO. 800K!”

“Just from being in your room?! Just before Sidemen?”

“Wellll before Sidemen he was established.”

“Wait, how long - when was Sidemen created? 2015? 16?”

“Technically 2013 but we started posting 2014.” Harry confirmed.

Grace paused, mouth dropped, and almost fell out of her seat, “WAIT — SO HOW LONG HAVE YOU TWO BEEN TOGETHER?!”

You both looked to each other and laughed at her cluelessness, “we were together at the start of 2014, before the—”

“YOU'VE BEEN TOGETHER SINCE 2014?!”

“. . yeah?” Harry laughed, looking at you to see if she was joking, “nearly 10 years.”

“TEN Y—” she kept jumping in shock, “WHAT?!”

“Grace, I told you this?”

“No you fucking didn’t!” She accused, “you told me you’d got hate on his own channel before people knew you on Sidemen ‘cause he kept you secret!”

“Yeah!” You didn’t deny her, “but his channel back in 2014?! I told you I lived with him and Freezy and stuff for years!”

“Y/n there is not a chance you said this to me.”

“Doesn’t Cal make you do research?”

“YEAH. BUT YOU'RE NOT EXACTLY THE BEST TO FIND OLD INFORMATION ABOUT!” She defended, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Was 2014 really that long ago?!” She gawked.

“Yeah.”

Grace had to take a moment, her jaw still on the floor as she adjusted to the news, clearly baffled at her wrong calculations and assumptions. “I can’t believe this.”

You and Harry stayed quiet, letting her have her moment. She sat with her hand on her head. “So how old are you two now? I’m utterly baffled by this.”

“You don’t say,” you laughed.

She kept looking at you both in silence. “I was so confused at first ‘cause when I was researched I thought you were only together from 2017-18 or something? Or 2019? Like 4-5 years?”

“That's when we got back together.”

“Jesus Christ, yeah,” she facepalmed, “‘cause Freezy was like ‘no they been together since they were young’ and I was like ‘how old are they then?’ like, trying to find old vids of you together and then . . you weren’t in any videos so,” she waved her hand, “this whole thing has baffled me. I am sorry. All the fans are gonna be mad I didn’t know this sacred Sidemen information.”

“I can’t believe you.”

“I can’t believe you! You said you were getting hate before Sidemen fans found out about you and then it got wors — WAIT! So how long have you been doing YouTube?!” She accused Harry.

He shook his head, almost laughing, “since fuckin’ . . before the dinosaurs, mate, it feels like-”

“No, he literally has videos of him at like 10, singing on the internet,” you grinned, looking at him knowingly, “alo—”

“No.”

“–Salut. Sunt eu, un, haiduc—”

“Y/N.”

“–si te rog—” you sat up and snapped your fingers, singing his little iconic song he did all those years ago when he was a kid, real fans would know. He tended to join in with you most of the time after letting you take the piss but now he was just embarrassed. Oh, what a cute memory to reflect on. “—SI SUNT VOINIC, DAR SA STII NU-TI CER NIMIC, VREI SA PLECI DAR NU MA NU MA IEI—” you held your hand out to him as if you had a microphone there.

“What the ef is going on here, am I gonna get copyrighted?” Grace was out of breath, laughing at your singing, feeling like she somewhat recognised it from somewhere.

“Probably,” Harry said behind his hand, not coping with your singing still going on.

“Jesus Christ.” She facepalmed. “I-this — I can’t with this video,” she shifted in her seat, “I’m viewing you both in a different light now. You’re a married couple in my eyes, realistically. Sorry. Do continue, leave me to dwell. So . . you were — you were already popular on YouTube before Sidemen?” Grace’s head was about to explode.

“He had like over a million before we were even together a year.”

“FUCKIN HELL!” She was about to collapse. “On your own?!”

“He made the other guys,” you pointed a finger, “but you didn’t make me,” you quoted while Harry threw his head back at your cringey words.

“I can’t believe this. You — you were securing the bag!” She laughed.

“Bitch I made an investment,” you joked back, laughing louder.

“So you meant you’ve been getting hate since fuckin . .”

“Since, like, Bebo days, Grace.”

“OI REMEMBER BEBO!” Harry piped in.

“My mind is blown. I’m gonna feel like a right clown watching our video back. I’m asking questions about that next, Jesus. Anyway. Carry on! So 800k by the time you rolled around - this is mad. Maybe I should have been a footballer-youtuber back then. Maybe I should have done my research!” You laughed at that. “So she said she was in her pyjamas when she walked in on you recording?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, she literally walked in the back of the frame and that was fine, paid no mind to it, she just walked in with a cup of tea. Uploaded the video. Boom: probably my most commented video at the time. Probably the first they’d been interested in my personal life, asking ‘is that your girlfriend?’ ‘how do you know her?’ ‘that’s no your sister’ ‘who’s that in his room?’ ‘is that his bird?’ and I was fuming, I was like ‘why they not paying attention to . . the actual content?’ It was a banger vid and no one was saying anything!” He exclaimed, sharing his frustration from all those years ago that still made you laugh. “We laughed about it but I still didn’t get the whole hype about it. Obviously now, we know relationships are a big thing, everyone wants to know your personal life but I obviously didn’t get that back then - still don’t get it now, but they’re literal clout absorbers nowadays, easy views. Back then – didn’t get the infatuation,” he held his hands up, “Yeah. The people were curious.”

“Didn’t expect you to have such a hot babe.”

“Lit— LITERALLY?!” Harry jumped in his seat, “I think that was the thing! They were so surprised?!”

“Did you ever think to bring her along for them to see her? For views?”

“Mmmm – no,” he shook his head.

“Why?”

“‘Cause she had nothing to do with my channel, nothing — I was uploading Fifa videos left, right and centre, she didn’t even get that — how - I didn’t think ‘my girlfriend opens my Fifa pack’ would get me a million views.” He responded sarcastically.

“Probably would have done.”

“Looking back, yeah , it might not have done.” He agreed. “No, I didn’t think that was good content, and she wouldn't have wanted to have done it anyway, she ain’t give a shit,” he looked at you.

“Literally. Like I get Fifa now but back then, coming back from work, starving and tired, I just wanted to eat my chinese in his bed and he’d be playing a bloody game of Fifa, I was like ‘Harry . . no harm, but I am going home if you don’t turn that off in the next 5 minutes’,” you laughed, and he smiled at your honest words.

“Get that fucking game off and give me the attention I deserve deseve,” Grace spoke for all the girlfriend of a gamer.

“Literally! I wasn’t even that bad! Girls would put on their story, complaining they weren’t getting any attention but he would actually turn it off the minute I would say. Be wasn’t bad that way,” you praised him, “he could play it if he wanted, I’d be on my phone anyway or doing work but if it was late and I was tired I’d just want him to get into bed and chill.”

Grace nodded. “‘Chill’.”

“Yeah.”

“Interesting. So . . you were set on it.”

“I mean when the hate started rolling around and at a rapid pace,” he shook his head, “like I saw the way it was going and didn’t like it. Talking stupid shit, ‘his girlfriend isn’t even that good looking’ ‘who is she?’ ‘her instagram is whatever’ and then the comments were coming up on her accounts and I was just . . it was scary for me because I’m the one who was putting stuff out about me . . and they found y/n and like - knew who her parents were, knew who her sister was, trying to see what kind of person she was, was able to see what Uni she’d been thinking of going to just from stalking her comments on her friends posts, d’you know what I mean? And they were so negative, like, you know what it’s like, people are bastards. Bitchy people like — it’s the thing that made me realise that your business is your business. Who are people to say what my girlfriend does or what she looks like? I don’t give a fuck what you think, if I don’t wanna show her, I don’t wanna show her. And – and how dare they?!” Grace laughed how he hit his leg to get his point across. “Yeah. And she was so unbothered but I’d just think like . . she’s just trying to mind her own business, go about her say, post her lovely pictures on Instagram and Facebook and these people are just . .”

“—being annoying.”

“Yeah! Literally like just being fucking annoying, and I felt bad! She uploads a pretty picture and people are asking her about me or making fun of her ‘cause they think I’ll find it funny,” he shook his head, “taking the piss! So yeah, and then she’d comment back—”

“—being sarcastic,” you said in sync.

“—and they’d be fuming! Then it just kept getting worse obviously as time went on but . . yeah. I just . . I know she said it wasn’t bothering her and she didn’t care but I did. I was like how has 100 people commenting ‘you’re ugly’, ‘you’re hairs a state’, ‘your clothes are shit’ not affected you? Over and over - just pissed me off. That’s it, they just pissed me off. It was either ‘die, she’s ugly’ or ‘she’s well fit, she shouldn’t be with him’,” he laughed in the simplest terms. “So . . they could get fucked,” he took a drink.

“Wasn’t benefitting either you.”

“Yeah. Hate has fuck all effect on me but when it comes to her.”

“He didn’t play,” Grace raised a shoulder.

“He still sometimes comes into our room, phone in hand, face stuck up like ‘who’s this bastard commenting on your fuckin’ . . eyelashes or whatever,” you tried to think of something.

“HAHA! He just scrolls and inspects eveyone’s being nice to you.” She mimicked his movements, “so when Sidemen started it got worse?”

“I didn’t think hate was something that would have been around forever, I thought it would have passed, especially when Sidemen got popular? I mean if they like Harry, they’ll like me?” You shared your thought process. “But that wasn’t the case. I’d unprivate and private my account all the time and it'd always just roll in. I did get some nice people, fans of my own even but . . way more hate.”

“Why do you think people hate her so much?” Grace looked at Harry while pointing to you.

He took a big breath, thinking. “Her strong personality. I think she’s just . . she behaves like me but she’s a woman so she gets hate for it,” he shrugged.

You were both kind of taken back by his comment. And for what?

“Yeah. I think jealousy is the biggest things. In so many ways, ‘cause she’s not a bad person,” he squinted his eyes and tilted his head in thought , “I’d understand if she did whatever and it was inexcusable — like deserved the hate, but . . you’re not,” he looked at you, “I think — wasn’t it my Mum who said . . ‘they hate you ‘cause they wanna be you . . or be with you?’ Something like that, like they want what she has?” He tried to remember. “That always stuck with me. I think it’s jealousy at the end of the day, it always is.”

“Horrible disease, that.”

“I think as well like . . it turns to frustration ’cause they know it doesn’t bother her?” Harry laughed looking at you, “like she’s cheeky fucker back and plays on their interpretation so - they don’t like that she can take it. That she—”

“That she can wind them up.”

“YEAH! A wind up.”

You laughed at them.

“And then they take that for her being the kind of person. They focus on that and not the good things said and. . yeah. I get why people think she’s not a nice person but at the end of the day, we know, and that’s what matters,” he shared a look of pride on you.

“Cheers to that,” Grace raised her glass.

“I mean Id still liked to have held onto the privacy but . . shit happens. Shit happens meaning Freezy and Lux and fuckin’ . . Weller posting her no matter what I say.”

“See Freezy I can see doing it for the views.”

“Obviously.” You rolled your eyes with a smile.

“So, right, you need to tell me from the start: the very start ‘cause I clearly don’t know your beginning if you’ve been together 10 years. How did you meet? How did you know each other?”

You looked to Harry, liking how he explained things, but he scoffed and encouraged you to do so, “you go.”

“So we’re both from Guernsey.”

“Yes. I know that.”

“We went to the same school.”

“Oh fuck off,” Grace facepalmed irritably again. Harry snickered at her.

“We went to the same school and . .”

“—she didn’t like me,” Harry interjected.

Grave burst out laughing, not expecting that, “HA! WHAT?!”

Now you were covering your face with your hand.

“I — he . . so he used to really annoy me in school. Like we weren’t friends but he was in my classes through the years and he just . .” It was hard to explain now because you didn’t see him that way and couldn’t remember how it felt, “he was just annoying. Like loud, attention-seeking—”

“I wasn’t attention-seeking,” he scoffed.

“You were a rowdy boy! You were attention seeking!”

He shook his head at the camera.

“He just used to be so annoying around the school, know what I mean?”

“I get it.”

“No. She just hated everybody.” He pointed his thumb at you.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No?!”

“Yes!” He mocked your voice and you hit his shoulder.

“I can see you being a Wednesday Adams, Y/n.”

“She had time for no-one.”

“No, but you were reckless, Harry, you were a class clown.”

“I WAS LIKE 17! OF COURSE I WAS!”

“Still is,” Grace muttered.

“No, let me tell the story,” Harry sat up.

“No!”

“Shut up,” he shushed you.

“Did you fancy her?” Grace cut in.

Harry faltered, and his shoulders slouched, a defeated look glancing at you.

“DID YOU?! You did!”

“He didn't,” you confirmed.

“. . yeah, I did.” He played his embarrassment off. “But!”

You were both laughing at him.

“Wait, you hated everyone?”

“Mate, she had no friends,” Harry sat so far in his seat so he could speak above you both, “she hated school ‘cause all her friends dropped out to do their GCSE’s or A-Levels or whatever it was, somewhere else, so she was on her own and she was a grump. She always kind of was like . .” he looked at you, trying to think of a word, “intimidating nature to her ‘cause she just looked at you like she was better than you, d’you know what I mean?”

“She is,” Grace shrugged.

“She is,” Harry didn’t deny, “no one went near her cause she — she just seemed unapproachable! She didn’t want to be approached! She went to school to do her work, get her grade to pass and go — she didn’t want friends.”

“I DID!”

“No you didn’t! You just wanted to do everything on your own?!” You began another argument again.

“If I was paired with people like you - then yes! I did!”

He waved you off. “She just came across unmeaningly mean. And I get it, I hated school and I had my friends! And people are annoying in school!”

“But that’s just her face,” Grace nodded.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, “everyone just left her to her own thing. She — you weren’t a loner, you did talk to people and . . you were nice,” he remembered the days you chatted with teachers about something and you had them laughing about something, smiling like the suck-up you were. “You—”

“She just hated you.”

Your boyfriend closed his eyes at Grace.

“And you fancied her for it!”

“Did you fancy me?” You looked at him confusedly. You couldn’t recall him ever telling you this.

Harry looked at you, brow twitched and he smirked, “yeah?”

“YEAHHHH,” Grace big-upped his confession.

Your heart skipped the way he looked at you when saying so. “‘Course I did!” he confessed shamelessly. “I think a lot of people did but you just . . scared them.”

“So you went up to her,” Grace assumed.

“No. I did nothing. We got together after school.” Harry laughed.

Grace cackled, slapping her leg. “NOOO!”

“Yeah,” he tee-heed, embarrassed thinking back to that. “What do you mean?! I wasn’t going up to her?!”

“So you did nothing?!”

“Yeah!”

Grace laughed even harder, and Harry was almost blushing, it creeping up his neck.

“That’s so funny, that’s adorable though,” she smiled, looking between you both. You were smiling at him.

He was cute when he wanted to be.

“Yeah. I guess - yeah I fancied her. But I knew I’d never do anything about it ‘cause again, she just didn’t like anyone and I . .”

“—was scared of her?”

“—was scared of her, yeah,” Harry and her burst out laughing again.

“You just used to watch her in class, admiring from afar,” she laughed while he nodded. “I’m getting Golden Retriever, Black Cat vibes.”

“I was a Black Cat person in school. I’m more Retriever now,” you grinned, closing your eyes angelically.

“You’re Rottweiler, babe,” Harry butted in, muttering.

You’re not Golden Retriever at all. You’re a Pitbull.

You and Grace burst out laughing as he drank his drink.

“Anyway! Yeah! So didn’t vibe together in school — left school - he let school before me so year passed, whatever—”

“Did you do well in school?” She asked Harry.

“Yeah!”

“He did! That’s why I couldn’t stand him!” You interrupted, needing to share your frustration on the topic, “he used to mess about in school! Get in trouble! Class clown, all that — boom. A’s and B’s. Got the highest in our maths class , took the exam a year earlier and got the highest grade possible. Me? I studied night and day, early to every class, always prepared — no. Failed. Had to repeat. Failed again. Repeat.”

“Jesus Christ!”

“Like?! How annoying is that!” You banged the armrest, amusing the host.

“I’d be pissed too. The ones who try get shit and the ones who don’t get flying colours.

“Alright, alright, give me a bit of credit here,” Harry held his hands up.

“So annoying. But yeah, he’s actually really smart - when it comes to numbers, especially.”

“Really?”

Harry shrugged.

“Yeah, he is. He’s very clever with numbers,” you praised him, looking him over as he looked at you. “Languages too. Geography.”

Kinda hot.

“I feel like those are typical talents of lads though.”

You agreed. “Yeah, actually. I mean I’m okay at Geography—”

“No you’re fucking not, do not even lie,” Harry shook his head immediately at you.

“YEAH I AM?!”

“No you’re not?! Are you being serious right now?!”

“Harry! Yes—”

“No you’re not, don’t even lie, Y/n,” he threw his head back amusedly, stunned by you. He couldn’t count the arguments you had in the car when it came to giving each other directions.

“I a— shut up, anyway! I saw him outside school like a year later, it was the start of the year and I was technically done with school, I just needed to go in on exam days ‘cause like three of my teachers were on maternity leave and we had all our notes - anyway-” you waved your hand, “basically, saw him out with his Mum and he just acknowledged me and we waved at the other and then I smiled at him and I just—” it just happened. Something just happened that day.

“—someone shows you a nice interaction and you fall in love? Same babe. Me too—”

“Shut up!” You laughed, cheeks going red at how it sounded that way, “yeah! I saw him outside school and just saw him differently. Then he ended up texting me the day later and I ended up at his house to do something and then we just . . started kicking it. Texted and found out the same interests and—”

“—went to his house and shagged?!”

“No!” You tutted, “it was to do with my job at the time, like I could fix something for him - very weird, very cringe,”

“She was a plumber,” Harry sniggered, and you laughed loudly at that because it would seem so. Grace too.

“You were a plumber?!”

“No! It was electrics! Like Wi-Fi! Shut up the both of you!” You laughed, “anyway, got talking, texted, found common ground,”

“—saw each other on a night out.” Harry added, the night he would never forget.

“Saw the other on a night out and after that I think was when we realised - or when I realised how much I actually liked him, like we got on so well and he was just . . me. And then talking again and going out I realised I proper fancied him; realised how funny he was which was a big thing for me - humor is my thing like I don’t give a fuck what you look like, I will find you instantly attractive if you make me laugh, and then yeah. Started going out and . . here we are.”

“Where was your first date?”

“We went to - what did we do for our first date? We went out a lot, like clubbing but I think our first proper date was ice skatin’ or—”

“Ice skating?” She questioned.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah — and she was really fucking good!” Harry fumed, thinking back to that day he was like Bambi on ice, “I struggled! I st—”

“I wasn’t the best, I was shaky at the start but I was better than you,” you agreed, smiling adoringly at the fond memory.

You’d both tried holding each other up, legs wobbling, forcing yourselves to get close and to hold on to each other, shouting the other’s name in panic when you thought you were gonna fall. But then you’d got the hang of it, always needing around 20 minutes to get your balance of things before you could skate freely. Harry was slow in getting there, and so he clung to to you for support, deathly grip on your hand, and you’d kept pushing his chin up from his feet to look ahead of him. But he always sabotaged your steadiness, weighing more and standing taller, one wrong move sent you both to the ground, giving you no other choice but to laugh when you hit the ice.

It was entirely wholesome, funny - and you didn’t need to dress up too much: Harry still had butterflies going straight to his stomach at the sight of you in fresh hoodie, black leggings and thick socks. And other places.

“Then we went to that restaurant, it was our first proper dinner date,” he added. “I picked you up and we went to — weren’t it pizza? It was like proper italian—”

“Oh yeah! Yeah it was. It was quality for Guernsey. I know we don’t have much over there but that was a shout. I was impressed.”

“She mentioned she liked a thin-based pizza and I remembered,” Harry raised his brows like he was the boyfriend of the year.

You almost shook your head amusingly at him, “I don’t even remember telling you that but you’re right.”

“Was it ever awkward? Or was all the tension broken?”

Harry shrugged. “No, it was long gone.”

“Long gone by the second date?!”

“Yeah. I wanted to talk to her properly.”

“Pizza is a good shout, it’s neat too, not like you could have ribs or something—”

“She got ribs on our third date.”

“DID YOU?!”

“Yeah,” you nodded embarrassingly.

“Ate them like a rapid dog.”

“No you didn’t y/n,” Grace refused to believe the thought of you going ham on a rack of ribs, spreading BBQ sauce up to your cheekbones in front of a boy.

“Hey, he kept coming back!” You defended.

“I was . . jealous of the ribs,” he thought up, smiling when you laughed. “Yeah. Mauled them.”

“Made you horny, didn’t it?”

“I’d never been so turned on in all my life,” he went along with her joke.

“He knew you were a keeper.”

“He did.”

“That’s cute though, a nice dinner together and drinks after I assume?”

“Yeah! We talked the ears of each other though, anyone else would have probably walked away,” you both agreed, “we just kept making the other laugh. And then he’d text me like the minute I got home.”

“NOW—”

“Harry you did! You jumped straight into our next plans.”

“No I didn’t?!” He did his awkward laugh when you were telling the truth about him.

“Did he text you more?”

“—no.”

“Yes. Definitely,” you responded, “we texted all the time, planning the next time - he would try and squeeze in any time he could to see me - he’d be like ‘want me to come get you from work?’, ‘wanna run this errand with me?’ ‘want to go here for an hour?’”

“HA! ‘Want to come to the shop with me, get a pint of milk for me mum’,” Grace mocked his voice and you laughed. “LITERALLY!”

“Is it a sin I wanted to see you?” He defended.

“No he definitely texted more than I did - I didn’t want to annoy him I think - come across as . . clingy or desperate or whatever. But yeah we text all the time. We’re always texting each other! I don’t know what the fuck we talk about!” You pulled a confused look, “we live together? How — why?—”

“I don’t know either.” Harry rubbed his eye.

“Alright, we’ll Im glad I have some backstory to the roots, so now we’re gonna play my favourite game,” Grace reached for the pair of paddles under her chair and handed two each to you, one purple, one yellow. “Mr and Mrs. Basically, it’s a who’s more likely to, you raise your paddle for whoever you think is the right answer for the question — who wants to be what colour?”

“I’ll be yellow,” you waved it in your hand.

“And it was alllll, yellow,” Harry set his drink down to hold them. “This will be fun.”

“You ready?”

You both nodded.

“First one! Who,” she looked at her phone, “is messier?”

You both raised purple.

“Just because she likes things spotless, I’m technically messier,” Harry used air quotes. “I’m not that bad.”

“He’s a hoarder.”

“So are you?”

“No, but I have a home for everything.”

“So do I?”

“No you don’t, you just stack things on drawers and your desk and call it a place and then there’s no roo—”

“No I don’t?!”

“You do, literally look at your old bookcase back hom— look at old videos in our old apartment. Grace, between him and Freezy, we didn’t have a living room ‘cause of their shit.”

“That was a bit of a disaster.”

“Horrific.”

“Who’s more photogenic?”

You both raised yellow, but you debated purple, “he always goes look good in photos but he never looks at the camera when I tell him to pose—”

“I DO! I DO!”

“You literally — Grace, honestly, the photos I have on my phone, with the most beautiful backdrop and my hair is sitting nice and my outfit — he doesn’t look at the camera!”

“I look at you! To see what you’re doing!” He defended, laughing, because it was so true. You got fed up all the time over his side profile making the cut, because every photo he watched you and the way you fixed yourself, smiling, entertained, because was there ever any need? You were always picture ready, perfect the way you were. A subtle moment to admire before it got shown off to others. Besides, who were you trying to impress?! He was standing right next to you!

Grace smiled at her next question, “who’s more romantic?”

You both looked to each other before raising the purple paddle.

“Really?! I didn’t expect that!”

“I like to impress her.”

“He likes to impress me, yeah,” you grinned. “Yeah. He’s very thoughtful,” you looked him up and down, “plans things. Gift things.”

“Do you get her flowers?”

Harry nodded nonchalantly.

Course he did.

“Yeah I usually have a vase filled with a pretty bouquet.”

“Must be nice.”

“Only recently though, since living on our own.”

“Yeah, not when rooming with the guys, they’d just kill them or break the vase,” you promised. “I’m funny about my flowers.”

“How so?”

“She only likes certain colours and types - doesn’t like roses,” Harry sighed with a weirded look.

“HUH?!”

“Only pink or white ones.” Harry added.

“Red roses are tacky,” you scratched your nose like a snob, “I mean they’re still gorgeous but . . not my favourite colour. I like a wild bouquet, with soft tones, no bright reds or oranges.”

“—or yellows or dark purples.” Harry shared his knowledge on the subject.

“Jesus. You know all too well!”

“I’d need to!”

“He’d better!” You laughed. “Yeah, gets me flowers, plans unexpected dates, little gifts, nights away, candles in the bath — all that, you know,” you winked as she laughed.

“Do you?!”

“He loves a bath.”

“Love a bath.” He agreed.

“Dying at the thought of you both soaking up in the tub,” she grinned, scrolling to the next one, “who said I love you first?”

You both looked at each other instantly, smiling knowingly and pointed at each other at the same time.

“NO!”

“No you did.”

“YOU did!”

“Y/n, no,” he shook his head.

“You know fine rightly who said it first and the circumstances,” you stared him on as he dropped his head.

“What were the circumstances?” Grace asked dreadfully.

“No, y/n,” Harry covered his face the paddle at the memory.

“He,” you began to laugh, jabbing your thumb at him, “he did. He did. We were over at his and like . . sitting in his room and it . . slipped out.”

He looked at you, and you looked at him, daring you to add further.

“In an attempt to get something, if you know what I mean,” you looked back at Grace.

“Harryyy,” she dragged, sounding disappointed.

“You’re wrong,” he accused, “I did say that to get that too! But that wasn’t the first time.”

“—impatient fucker,” you mouthed to her with your thumb jabbed his way.

“I’m not lying!”

“Well then you explain when it was because that’s what I remember.”

“I’m not saying that didn't happen,” he looked at you, “but I’m pretty sure it was when you were leaving me to go on holiday and we were in the car.”

The moment he said that, it made sense, and you were pretty sure what you had just explained was technically the first time trying to say it casually. “Oh my God!”

“YEAH! You see! My memory is better than yours about this stuff! I remember everything!” He ranted, jabbing his finger into his knee to validate his point.

“Ok, you explain it. I remember now. ‘Cause I thought the car was when you asked me to be your girlfriend?”

“That was in the car too.”

“Oh. Ok.” Why was your memory so foggy? Clearly you had too many memories to pick from. “Right, go on,” let’s hear this story you want to tell for the sole reason just to get a laugh in.

“So, I remember we’d been together for a good while. Probably 6-7 weeks or so. Spent every day together. Just seeing each other as much as we could,” he began, “and then you were going on holiday for 2 weeks — which would have been our longest time apart,” he looked at you to confirm.

“Yes.”

“And the night you were leaving, I took you out just a drive, just to see you a couple hours before your flight.”

“Yep.”

“And I remember on the way home, taking you back, I–I was thinking of what I was gonna say to you going home . . ‘cause I thought of her being away and I was like . . i’m gonna miss her, I’m actually gonna miss her—”

“Oh thanks!”

Why was that so surprising?!

“And like, if anything happened while she was gone—”

“If the plane crashed or something,” Grace nodded.

“Yeah! Literally! I was going over my head what I could say, like ‘have a safe flight’ . . or ‘be safe’, ‘have a good time’ like I dunno! And then I was worrying -she was going away with her parents-” he added, “-and I was still freaking out if she was going to be looked after?” He looked to the camera because yeah, he was that big an idiot, stressing himself for no reason, “and I was just like Harry man, why you getting so worked up for? She’s going – it’s not like it’s a fuckin . . girls holiday, getting off her tits, like— she’s not gonna get spiked, she’s not gonna get kidnapped, and then I started getting nervous, thinking — ‘what if she meets someone over there?’, ‘are we well-established enough?’ ‘is she going to cheat on me?’” You could tell just from the look in your eyes that you were amused hearing him speak. “And then I was getting annoyed ‘cause I was thinking . . what if some holiday prick goes after her and likes her? What if she meets someone and likes them better? And then there’s me who’s been waiting for her to come back? And I was just getting pissed at her going away . . and then I just realised—”

“Realised ohhhhhhh, I — I actually love her! A whole lot, actually!” Grace pieced it together.

“Literally. Didn’t want anything to happen to her, didn’t want anyone hitting on her, didn’t want her to go ‘cause I’d miss her, thinking about what i’d do if she just dropped me,” he laughed, realised how weird it might sound. “Yeah. I’d be really upse – I’d get really annoyed over it.”

You watched with soft eyes, not expecting the heartfelt rant to come from his mouth as he told you something you’d never heard before; from his point of view. You watched mesmerised, eyes likely sparkling, heart now a puddle.

“I just realised how much . . I . liked her before she went away?—” he coyly laughed the obvious.

“—wanted her to be safe.”

“Yeah! For her to be alright! And I'd . . y’know, miss her.” He finally looked at you again, “it was the longest 2 weeks of my life!” You both laughed. “Sitting, waiting about for her to get back, convinced she was probably gonna leave me for some geezer in the same hotel!”

You rolled your eyes at that whilst Grace laughed, knowing something like that was coming. “Of course.”

“Yeah. So I told you,” he jabbed your arm, “in the car before you went, and that was when I gave you that stupid stuffed animal.”

“OH MY GOD! You’re right!” You gawked, finally piecing where your firstborn came from. “‘Cause I brought him with me!”

“Yeah!”

“Oh my. You’re so right, I forgot about that.”

“Yeah!” He retorted, the memory now fresh in his mind with the reminder.

“How did you ask her to be your girlfriend? Or was it never an established thing—”

“You see, th-that’s the vibe I was going for,” Harry placed his hand on himself, “I wanted to try and do it in a casual manner because I didn’t think it needed to be properly established, because you already were - or were acting - you were my girlfriend.” He defended his reasoning before even explaining it. “In my head.”

“It backfired on him.”

“How?!”

“‘Cause!—”

“Because I . . right, so,” the Youtuber sat up in his chair with his bottle still in hand, getting into his younger self’s mind. “Basically, I . . I don’t know if - I did something for you, or I got something for you, like . . I dunno, paid for dinner or got flowers or something. Something nice. Then you said something about, like,” he looked at you for help, “you said something about getting spoiled or like, special treatment – you said it was a nice change being treated like a princess or something and me not being a dick all the time–”

“–being nice to me for once,” you smirked, vividly remembering the story he was telling. He was always nice to you, you were just talking ass ‘cause he’d gone an hour without being sarcastic to you.

“Something like that. And then I said, thinking this was the smoothest way to do it,” he shrugged a shoulder cockily with closed eyes, sarcastically smirking like some big shot to represent the confidence he had, “‘well you’re my girlfriend’ or something like that! Something like ‘well you’re my girlfriend, are you not?’ Then she turns around and goes — ‘I don’t remember you asking’.” He looked at the camera with his jaw dropped.

Grace was laughing and so were you, realising how bitchy it was if people didn’t know the circumstances.

Yeah! That’s what he was dealing with!

“I was trying to be funny! I was being cocky for once ‘cause he was being cocky about it!”

“I tried to play it smooth!”

“You were being too,” you didn’t know what movement you were doing with your hands but it looked like you were signalling Twinkle Twinkle, “bold.”

“BOLD?!”

“I wanted it to be causal but then you did it in a jokey way and I was like ‘. . mmm no’, I wanted you to be all soft! I wanted to see you nervous to ask!” You defended.

Harry looked at you baffled, never knowing what to expect from you.

“You got the ick from him asking you to be his girl.”

“That was it though! He wasn’t asking and I wanted to put him back on his toes!”

He shook his head. “Anyway, so after that I was like . . well now I don’t wanna do it her way, I wanna like — I’ll blackmail her into being my girlfriend!” he hit his armchair upon speaking his egotistical younger self’s mind, “I wanted to be petty back and not do it her way! So she was away for a weekend or something and I was thinking about it all weekend, wondering if I should just ask her normally when she got back. But then she came back and I picked her up from her house,” he looked at you, smirking a little as he wondered if you remembered, “and she came out and I had flowers, and she came over was all ‘oh, pretty flowers’ and I pulled them back behind me,” he mimicked his actions just as they’d happened when you reunited with him outside your house at night, about to give him a kiss when he withdrew, “and I was like . .” he laughed because it kind of was like blackmail, ‘will you be my girlfriend?’”

“—raising his brow all cocky!” You remembered his stubborn face upon trying to hide a smile whilst not allowing you them.

“And then she said yeah. And I gave her the flowers. Gave her a kiss.”

Grace clapped, “now stop it! That’s actually cute, though!”

“It was cute at the time, ‘cause he — it’s exactly how I imagined him to do it, he’d ask but it’d be like — ‘be my girlfriend or else—”

“—or else i’m throwing this chair at your wall!”

“Yeah! ‘Or I’m uploading this ugly photo of you!’”

Harry chuckled at himself, amused.

You knew him so well. Back then and now.

“That’s such a cute way. We got so sidetracked there, sorry,” she read her phone for the next question, “who's lazier?”

Both your heads snapped to each other at the word and knowing smiles grew, before Harry looked back and answered. “That word is banned in our household.”

“WHY?!” Grace burst out laughing.

“Because . . . so when I used to have my normal 9 to 5 and Harry obviously just made videos, I would come home and complain - it was basically a complaining match about who was more tired. And my argument was that I, y’know, I had to get up, get ready, in my uniform, I went into my office, my place of work, had to get up early to get the tube and all that and y’know, do the work part! Do my job! And then his argument was that he worked too but I used to dismiss his ‘cause he was just making videos with his friends and there was no real work in it—”

“—I got what she was saying but she would make it out that I couldn’t be tired and that I didn’t work, even though I could have been—”

“—NO! It’s not th— I—”

“YES! YES!”

“NO! I’m saying— let me speak!” You shoved his hand off annoyingly pulling at your sweatshirt, “I—”

“She basically saying she was a harder worker and I didn’t deserve ro say I was tir—”

“I— long story short,” you covered his mouth with a stretched out hand, “we used to bicker all the time, I—”

“—who called who lazy first?” Harry interrupted, peeling your hand off.

“ICalledYouLazyFirst but it was becaus – I said he was lazier ‘cause all he had to do was go over to his mates house and literally mess about and hang out with them for making a video. Which like . . you can’t blame me for back then. Now I wouldn’t call you lazy. You obviously do much more.” You looked at him understandingly, which he gave you. “Basically we used to take the piss. I’d call him lazy ‘cause I’d get home from my ‘regular’ and he’d just take it bad and be all ‘I’vE bEEn uP fRoM 7 o’cLoCK tOO, I hAd tO tRAvEL aLL tHE wAY tO tHis pLACe, I hAD tO dO tHIS fOR tHE cHalleNge viDeO, i hAd tO eDiT 6 HoUrS oF fOotAge, i HAd a fLigHt aT this Time. YOu jUST siT aT aN oFFiCe aLL dAY’ and basically explain how he was allowed to feel tired. But yeah, we’re basically not allowed to call each other lazy. We’re not allowed to critique the other’s work ethic.”

“We both work hard in our job’s circumstances,” Harry nodded.

“Yeah. . . but he also could never do my job,” you got the last word in before changing the subject.

“She’s lazier.” He held up yellow.

“No.”

“Who’s better driver?”

You both held up yellow.

“I don’t drive.”

“You don’t?”

“He has his license he just doesn’t drive. Doesn’t have a car. I drive.”

“Are you passenger princess?”

“I am thee proud passenger princes,” Harry said with no shame.

“His driving is actually whack, like I love being a passenger princess but sometimes when he does drive us around, I’m on edge, Grace.”

She laughed, “are you a reckless driver?!”

“I mean I try not to be,” he laughed nervously, scratching his head. “I drive us around Guernsey, most of the time.”

“That’s fair.”

“Sometimes.” You corrected.

“Most of the time,” he stated.

“Hm.”

“You’re not even the best driver! My driving makes yours look good!” He began to accuse, pointing your paddle in your chest.

“Anything’s better than your fucking driving! I’ve never hit someone!” You defended.

“Mate, do— you literally have the worst road rage, and you’ve got speeding ti—”

“Oh shut up, I’m not having this argument with you of all people,” you scoffed, leaning your head on your hand. He got road rage and he wasn’t even the one driving half the time!

Grace looked to the camera as you both bickered, hiding behind her cue card.

“—we literally had the same driving instructor so you’re lying out your arse.”

“Well you clearly bought him off or something ‘cause—” you put your hand to your head, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, we had the same instructor – he’s the reason I began driving.”

“Are you!”

“Yeah, I made her do it,” he looked you up and down.

It was true. You’d never wanted to learn to drive, too anxious, but after taking you out plenty of times in his car, showing you what to do and teaching you himself - Harry had texted his old instructor with your phone under your number, and you’d had no choices but to do the lessons after he’d showed up to do the organised sessions. You did hate him for it but you were grateful in the end.

Besides, he may or may not have contributed to your first car and reduced you to tears. Also, he’d gotten you the cutest little package of gifts when you’d passed your test: your favourite being the little personalised keychain of you both that you still had to this day. He had always been a very thoughtful boy to you.

But he was still a dick at times. “Yeah, got sick of driving her everywhere.”

You shook your head to yourself. “You’re a dick.”

“Who’s better at saving money?”

You let out the loudest laugh and threw up yellow. Harry fought to roll his eyes and held it up also.

“We’ll not talk about the money he takes out in bets and casinos or I will be sick,” you said with disbelief. Harry just sighed and relaxed, knowing he wasn’t beating you on this.

“Makin’ him sound like he’s got a gambling addiction,” Grace laughed.

“He doesn’t, like I’m talking when he goes to Vegas or something and he tells me what he won of what he lost.”

“Do you tell her if you lose?!”

“Yeah.” He nodded.

That surprised Grace for some reason, feeling like most lads would keep that from their girlfriends.

“It’s not even like it’s our money, it’s his money but he’ll tell me and then—”

“And then she’ll tell my Mum.”

“NO.”

“YES, don’t lie,” he was prepared for this argument.

“No listen! I gave him a lecture the last time he lost a load and he was like ‘i know, i know’ but I knew – it was still eating the insides of me so—”

“We were arguing -not arguing- being petty when we were over in Guernsey and winding each other up in front of my parents and I said something and she said something and then I said something and she went ‘well at least I’m smart enough not to bet 6 grand’ or something—”

Grace’s hand covered her mouth, “oh my days.”

“—then my Mum gave me a lecture and I just — she knew what she was doing—”

“You deserved another one,” you shrugged. But hearing it come from you both just proved to others how sensible a girl you were. Like yeah it was his money but you still opened your mouth to tell him how fucking thick he was. Knock some sense into him when he needed it.

You just wanted to keep him humble. It was his money but you weren’t golds let him be stupid with it. “I’m not that bad. I do like to treat myself but I never over-do it. Need to channel my inner Elizabeth James every now and again,” you thought of one of your favourite movie characters.

“Who starts arguments the most?”

It was another situation we’re both of you hesitated to choose a colour. You weren’t an argumentative couple in all seriousness. “We don’t argue.”

“No, we actually don’t,” you agreed with him.

“Now come on.” The blonde shot.

“I’m serious! We honestly don’t.”

“We literally never fight.” Harry looked at you.

You and Harry had genuinely only ever been malicious towards one another in your whole relationship and it was upon your break up. You were never hurtful to the other, or said anything to wind them up in a way that would wholeheartedly hurt them. “We bicker a lot but we don’t argue.”

“What’s the difference?” Grace squinted her eyes.

“Seriously! Bickering, as in funny, unserious way - that's all the time. We bicker over everything, everything’s always a joke. But we genuinely don’t argue.”

“We get along.” Harry stated. As simple a statement it was and laughable because duh, you were in a relationship - it summed up in terms of how you understood the other well enough to know what did strike a nerve and how similar you were that you'd both react the same way. You were a couple always on the same page. A team. You liked each other.

“I don’t know what we would argue over,” you looked at him cluelessly, “like we get annoyed at each other but never angry.”

“Same difference again.”

“No but it's not!” You laughed, “I’m not talking winding each other up ‘cause that just doesn’t count, that's obviously playful,” you squinted your eyes, “I’m talking like . . I might get annoyed at him when he’s in a mood and being cheeky, or ignores something I’ve told him not to do. I’ll get annoyed, but I don’t go off screaming, shouting at him to get a grip, like . . It never comes to that.”

“No yeah, I get you, I get you.”

“We genuinely don’t fight that way but I'd say like . . petty arguments, her.” He held up the yellow paddle. “But it’s probably because I’ve done something stupid anyway and forgot to do something or have done something.”

“Nice! Sounds about right,” Grace grinned. “So who will apologise first then?”

You both contemplated and then held up purple simultaneously. “Nice!”

“We both apologise, we’re grown when it comes to that,” you rolled your eyes, knowing many times you had to do it yourself. “We’re not afraid to apologise to the other if we know who’s in the wrong.”

Sometimes teasing went too far, sometimes someone played too roughly, sometimes a nerve was struck, sometimes somebody wasn’t in the mood to joke and the other saw that as a challenge. You fully expected the muffled i’m sorry in your ear when he’d creep up behind you and wrap his arms around your front. “But usually him.”

“Cause of the last word,” Grace joked.

“Exactly! He may get the last word, but he’ll apologise for it afterward,” you laughed with her, seeing Harry shake his head at you.

He knew he was an utter suck up.

“Who gets the last word in the argument?”

You both looked anticipatedly at the other, knowing there was a right answer.

Harry held up purple, and you were happy, copying it.

“REALLY?!”

“If he didn’t, it would go on forever. And I would kill us both.” You deadpanned. “He is the most petty person I know.”

Harry was tee–heeing like a girl into his hand because it was true, feeling bad. But he was.

He was a petty king.

“Like . . when he’s arguing in your favour — it’s the best. I love it when he argues over me,” you smirked like a psycho over your protective man, “he will win. You do not want to argue with him, but in the rare occasion, oh my God, that he isn’t on your side and he’s against you? Oh my God. Grace,” you slowly threw your head back with your eyes closed, Harry trying not to laugh next to you, “I have literally had to stop myself from whacking a frying pan over his head sooo many times,” you pinched your fingers and thumbs. “He will just not shut up. He goes on and on and on a—”

“But it’s like—”

“No,” you shushed him, “he has this mindset of ‘i’m right, you’re wrong’ and that’s it. He will just refuse to see it in any other sense. It’s so childish. It could be over thee pettiest thing and he will fight to the death proving his point. Ignorant,” you looked at him.

He shrugged his shoulder looking back at you. “Deal with it.”

You looked him up and down, chilling in his comfy fit like he didn’t cause you grey hairs. “He gets the last word ‘cause I allow him to have the last word.”

Harry shook his head, crossing a leg over the other knowing it was false.

“Who has the worst attitude?”

You both raised opposite colours.

“Nah—”

“It’s literally you, you know it is.”

“No, d’you know what she said to me one time? I said to her — ‘you have an attitude problem’, d’you know what she says back? ‘No, you just have a problem with my attitude.’” Harry’s mouth hung open as he repeated that monstrosity. “Do you see what I mean?!”

“Woowww,” she dragged. “. . I’ll be using that one.”

“It’s actually Harry but whatever,” you muttered, inspecting your nails.

“Who’s hornier?”

You both sprung up yellow.

“WOAH!”

“It’s literally not up for debate,” Harry looked down, dropping his hand.

“It can be a little bit,” you tilted your head at him. “He can be when he gets in like . .”

“Shut up, shut up—”

“—a jealous mood,” you spilled, avoiding his gaze ‘cause you knew he’d hate you talking about this. “What?! You do!”

“But yes or no, you’re horny literally every second of the day?”

“Yes.”

“That’s your answer,” he tried to wrap the question up.

“Yes, but you can be wors—”

“Y/n it’s you, end of,” he laughed, his hand on his head. “I could literally –literally– do with a restraining order against you at times.”

Grace laughed so loudly at his comment, not even surprised to hear such thing. She fully expected you to be just that.

“I am hornier overall, but he does have his moments when he goes in an anno—”

Harry swinging the yellow paddle in the air stole the attention as Grace took it as his plea to move to the next question.

“Fine. Yeah, true. Ok. Yeah. Christmas makes me horny, yeah.” You gave up.

“Who’s punching?”

You both held up opposites.

“I am.”

“No I am.”

Grace scoffed, “stop being nice to the other.”

“The world knows full well I'm punching,” Harry rolled his eyes at you. “I get it everyday on the internet, stop talking shit,” he pulled your paddle down with a laugh.

“I get it too! You are better looking than me!”

“Y/n,” his head hit the headrest as he looked at you with those twinkling eyes to get you to shut up. “Y/n.”

“Harry,” you laughed, not changing your answer.

“Who’s noisier?”

Harry had already raised yellow without an explanation and you looked confusedly between him and the camera and Grace. “Wha— alright,” you copied, “I mean, what context we talking here?” ‘Cause he definitely had a loud mouth at times.

“You know what context,” Grace winked.

“If we’re talking video games,” Harry whipped up the purple paddle.

“I would say you’re louder in everything you do but—”

“—nah, nah, nah, don’t you start lyin’, now,” he tutted patronisingly, “there is no debate here, y/n.”

You looked at him, and he looked at you, smiles growing in sync as he expected you to argue but also not daring you to say more. “Right. Fine.”

If he says so.

“Who's the funniest?”

You reached for purple straight away while Harry debated. “I mean I don’t want to say myself but you are actually funny,” he told her. “Like I don’t laugh at a lot of things but she does say shit that’s . . that I do laugh at.”

That made your heart burst with pride, you felt warm knowing you were one of the ones who made him laugh wholeheartedly, even if it was ‘cause of your stupidity. “Yeah. She is actually jokes.”

“Thanks.” You looked at him with his perhaps subtle sarcasm.

“You’re welcome.” He didn’t look at you, too busy twirling the prop in his hand.

You lowered your choice of paddle - the obvious answer. “I say him, obviously. I laugh every day, I don’t—” what else did you say? “He’s funny without trying.”

“Well so are you.”

“No, but you,” you looked at him, “you’re funnier. But then again, I laugh at everything. I laugh at things you say people might find cheeky.”

“Give me an example,” Grace quizzed.

You looked at her baffled. How were you supposed to think of a certain situation that stuck out when he was funny? Of course your mind went blank. “I dunno! Like,” your mind wandered, “I dunno, just the way he comes off with things. He can be so sarcastic - a few weeks ago when we were on holiday -this isn’t even funny- I got bit? By a bug? You know, like lots of little bites - anyway! I had one on my leg and I was like ‘am I bit in here?’ and he was like ‘yeah’ and I was like . . ‘are you not gonna go get me some cream?’ and he went,” you laughed, because now it didn’t sound funny and just lame, “‘you were bit by a fly, not a fucking shark, go down and get it yourself’ but it’s the way he says it! Like the tone of his voice and sitting on the bed makes me—”

“I get you, I get you! Some might think he’s a cheeky bastard.” She smiled amused.

“I mean, he is that as well,” you teased, playfully tugging his earlobe.

“When she’s not in the mood, everything is automatically 10 times funnier.” He held in a laugh looking at you. “You have - you have some one liners.”

His latest example would have been when you were both jet-lagged after that holiday and struggling to go to sleep, you more agitated even before he’d refused to unpack his case. He’d pitched a wild idea that you hadn’t found funny and in a mumbly, sleepy, passive-aggressive tone, you’d responded into your pillow, “you’d be sooner sniffing a line off my crack before doing that.”

“I think a lot of what we say could be taken the wrong way by others but to each other, we always take it the right way.”

“Who’s more affectionate?”

You both contemplated, raising yellow, then purple, then yellow. Harry responded similarly.

“We’re both really affectionate people.” Harry uttered.

“Yeah, like when it’s just the two of us. He is sooo affectionate,” you looked at your boyfriend who pulled a face like you were exaggerating it a bit - but you really weren’t. Nobody would see the days he wrapped himself around you in bed or on the sofa at any given moment, falling asleep in a matter of seconds when you’d be scrolling through emails.

They didn’t see how he took those little frenzy’s of constantly kissing your cheek when he felt like he hadn’t seen you, kissing you hard and passive-aggressively.

They didn’t see how cuddly he became when he was tired, ill or hungover, his favourite thing ever to do to drop himself on top of you like he was the size of a lap dog and guide your hand to his hair or his back for you to stroke and tickle.

They missed how he always had an arm around you at a dinner table, how he’d always kiss your shoulder if it was exposed in an outfit or have you sit on his lap rather than have you take up a seat of your own in given situations.

They wouldn’t see the way he behaved on holiday when he wrapped you around him in the pool, let his hands wander when you could be waiting in line at a bar, or even the way he’d subconsciously massage your foot whilst talking with you, sitting at the bottom of your bed where you kicked up your legs. “You are a clinger—”

“Mate you’re the clinger—”

“You’re the clinger.”

“Who gets chatted up the most?”

You both raised yellow.

“Harry doesn’t get the chance to get chatted up because he doesn’t make eye contact.” You laughed.

“I hate talking to people in the club, Jeus Christ,” he rubbed his head, especially in terms to chat him when he had you. As if he didn’t feel awkward as it is. “She always gets chatted up. She gets chatted up in front of my face.”

“HA! What?! How?!”

“They think i’m lying when I tell them I’m with him,” you nodded, knowing it sounded crazy rude.

“When we go on holiday? Oh my days,” he companions, “that’s the worst. Oh my God! D’you know when you be chilling at night, sitting at your table, having a drink or whatever watching the people on the stage? The people dancing? They-they always pull her up!” He complained as you laughed, hearing him speak this burden outloud for the first time. “She always always gets pulled up to dance with them and they spin her around, give her roses and shit.”

“It does happen a lot.”

“Lots of flirty men abroad,” he stuck his nose up, thinking jack to your last holiday when you were plucked in the midst of a conversation and shared a look as you were forced to dance for everyone. “She’s actually a good dancer which makes it worse.”

“Who’s the grumpiest?”

You both raised opposite colours.

“You’re grumpier than me.”

“I’m literally never grumpy, what are you talking about.”

“Talk shit.”

“Alright and last one — who drinks the most?”

You stuck up purple while he hesitated, but you both knew the answer. “I say Harry. We both get equally as plastered but logically I’m saying you ‘cause you’re bodyweight and height and—”

“Are you calling me fat?—”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” If you had a pound every time you heard those words, you’d have been your own millionaire.

“Well that was a fun little game! I hope you two enjoyed that.”

“That was fun, yeah,” you handed the paddles back over, happy to have answered a hundred more questions.

“I liked finding out the firsts questions, they’re always my fav,” she replied, taking them from you. “It’s always fun to look back and cringe at how you used to behave at the start, innit?”

“Yeaaah.”

“Yeah, it is,” you smiled.

“It’s like shit, I have to act a certain way in front of these new people for a while before I can fully be myself,” she shared the struggle. “Have to prove to the mother-in-law I’m a nice girl,” she tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Literally!”

“Yeah but you're like that with his family, no?” she crossed her two fingers thinking back to your last time here. “What about you? Did you have to work for the approval of her family?”

“Uhhhh . . yeah,” Harry considered. “Yeah. I mean at the start I went to every family event and stuff,” he shrugged, recalling the days he’d agree to accompany you to your Aunt’s wedding, or to celebrate your cousin’s 25th with all the family over a weekend. When you told him that your Mum had asked if he was coming or not, he’d take it as the hint that they expected him to be there, so he did, and they adored him.

Unbelievably funny and not too shy to speak to them, considering they were like you, they were very easy to get along with. Most of the time he was drinking in their company, and so didn’t feel so embarrassed telling them a story your Mum or Dad would encourage him to share. You knew he secretly dreaded them, he still does, but even back then you remembered the pride in your chest when watching him interact naturally with them, explaining to your older cousins how YouTube worked as a career or telling your Uncles about the part of London he was moving to. You remembered your Aunties messing you about and telling him how much of a charmer he was (they knew fine rightly he was a little shit putting on a show) but gave the approval when he’d responded the way he had: ‘well, I mustn’t be that bad if she’s decided to give scraps like me a chance’, he gave his nervous laugh, fingers creeping around your hip as you stood beside each other outside in the grassy garden, looking down at you after as if to see that was a good reply.

And then, of course, years went on and there was no longer polite drinking in front of the father-in-law but getting straight up pissed with him at the bar after his daughter already drank her weight, having their heart-to-heart about how special she was.

“He did, actually yeah. Yeah, he used to force himself to go,” you looked at him pleasingly, remembering him grunting and getting on when he wrecked his wardrobe trying to find something matched to your dress code.

“Are you close with her family?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he laughed at her reaction, “why’s that surprising?”

“I dunno! ‘Cause she was talking about getting on with your brother and sister, I just didn’t know if . .” she shrugged. “You have a sister, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you fight her?” She looked at Harry.

“Sophie’s a fucking savage,” he had to laugh, giving away his answer. “She’s ruthless but in a different way from her. They’re so alike but so different.”

“He is the only person she’ll say the most brutal shit to—”

“NO LITERALLY! Literally!” He agreed, “she—”

“—she acts like she hates him but she really doesn’t.” You added. “She just thinks he’s the most annoying— he’s like an older brother, he literally is. He winds her up miles away and like - literally will beat her up.”

“She’s a havoc,” Harry defended.

“They do love each other,” you muttered to Grace with a nod of your head.

“She just needs put in a headlock every now and again to put her right.”

“She’ll fight you over this,” you scratched your nose.

“I’ll – I’ll be ready.”

“What about your Dad? What’s the situation there? Was he tough to please?”

“HIM AND MY DAD ARE BEST MATES?!” You jolted your thumb at him, “since the beginning! You'd think my dad took pity of him or something! He was always so chill—”

Harry kept his mouth shut.

Yeah, because your Dad knew what he was in for.

“Actually?!”

“I love her Dad, man. We always got along.”

“My dad is a wind up too, so he thinks his jokes are so clever. My dad is just so simil– they just - they get on the same, talk the same stuff. They talked about football since the beginning and now it’s like . . I dunno. I dunno! They’d go to the pub together on a sunny day. Go to football matches, sneak off and talk shit about everyone, probably a— probably about me! And my mum!”

“What’d you want me to do?!”

“I don’t know! Tell me what you’re talking about?”

“I’m actually dead, that’s so funny, man.” Grace dabbed her eye. “I mean he’s known you for so long, I’d like to think you have some common ground.”

“Yeah. No, they love him. My Mum loves you too.”

“I got drunk with her Mum over a bottle of wine, she had to come down and get us to bed at like 3 o’clock in the morning,” he laughed into his hand as he realised how weird that sounded.

“What?! Just the two of you?!” Grace laughed.

“Yeah! They went to bed around 12, we stayed up just talking shit! Just talking absolute shit,” he laughed, thinking back to sitting at your kitchen table on that Saturday night, setting the world right with your mother.

“My Mum was iffy on him at the start.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, she tried to keep up apart when I said I was moving to London,” a smirk took Harry’s face as he recalled that time period, “tried to split us up.”

“Romeo and Juliet,” you winked. “Yeah, she actually did. She went through a period of not letting me out to see him. I used to be crying, almost! I didn’t think she was serious!”

Oh how you remembered the days when you blamed a Zoella video had made you cry rather than your Mum when Harry would laugh at you for getting upset over your Mum trying to banish you apart.

“She never would have kept me inside, I was hardly ever grounded! I had a lot of freewill as a kid, but when he said he was moving, I think she thought she’d try to distance us before he went? So it wasn’t as bad or whatever, so we’d just call it quits — ‘cause she was not for having me going to London with him, it wasn’t in the equation. But then . .”

“Used to have to call and see you in the dark, sneak around,” Harry laughed at the fond memory.

“Seriously? And she didn’t know?”

“I think she did know but she couldn’t do anything about it. She didn’t shout at me for being with him but she did get annoyed ‘cause she knew . . her plan wasn’t working.”

“She was coming with me anyway, so,” Harry stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth and flipped the camera with his two fingers.

“No but we love each other’s fam a lot. I can go over and just plant myself down on the sofa without a word or he could come over to mine and just start nicking stuff from my fridge, y’know. They know we’re good to each other and so is our family, so.”

“That's cute that your families like each other as well.”

“Oh yeah, our mums— our mums just shit on us when they see each other.”

“They do.” You knew they’d be bitching about you both drinking too much on holiday or the amount of clothes you had and were still buying more - typical mum stuff.

“My brother and her sister get on too. Well,” he paused, “I mean they’re the same age. They were in the same year in school like we were.”

“But Sophie doesn’t like him either, so,” you waved, revealing a not-so-surprising fact. Who did Sophie like?

“Oh?” Grace looked interestingly.

“Yeah, they always bump into each other on nights out,” Harry laughed, thinking of the times Josh would tell him about his late night activities and how going up to Sophie to talk to her would quickly lead into her shoving him away from her ‘cause he’d quickly turn the convo annoying.

“Oh. Cute,” she raised her brows. “I love that. Keep the tradition going, the L/N girls hating the Lewis boys.”

“It kind of is . .” you perked a brow, realising.

“So your friends are getting married soon. What does a wedding look like for you two? As in attending as a couple? Or any event like that? ‘Cause I imagine you to be in two different — like I can see you singing and dancing and owning the dance floor, and I can see you just watching from the table,” she laughed, pointing to you and then to him.

“That’s literally how it goes down. She sings all the songs to me from across the floor and I just sit and nod along — she knows every single fucking song in the world. I swear to God. Like she knows every movie as well, she’s seen them all.”

“If I get him drunk enough, I can get him on the dance floor with me,” you told. Nights singing and dancing with your Martini in hand, belting the words to your classic 80s hits they played at every wedding ever, Harry would watch with the softest look in his eye, seeing sing along to Whitney Houston or a track from Dirty Dancing — he had to laugh and shake his head when you’d point to him and serenade the cliché lyrics to him. If he usually was in his I don’t give a fuck mood after a couple pints, he didn’t run away when you’d take his hand and drag him to the dance floor with him, seeing that smile get brighter on your face as you’d jam together. “He should know the drill by now, shoulda known since that first festival we went to—” you recalled the first time Harry looked at you like you were insane for literally having made people move out of your way so you could dance freely, stomping on the ground without banging on top of someone’s foot.

“Oh yeah! You guys love a festival?! How-since when?”

“We’ve always loved going out and,” you shrugged, “same love for that kind of music. Getting drunk in crowds of people. Having to queue an hour for a toilet.”

“Killer.”

“Do you have any particular songs of artists you associate with your relationship? I associate a bit of Cardi B with Billy and I,” she winked at the camera.

“Of course you do,” you laughed at her, trying to think. “I love a concert, but we have our differences there for our preference in some music. I mean and argument breaks out in the car 9 times out of 10 if he puts on an artist he knows I won’t like, like it will actually put me in a bad mood if he puts on some shitty, cheap sounding Soundcloud rapper—”

“—she just called my music taste cheap.”

“Literally pisses me off. And he knows,” you shot him a look, sitting in his chair with his hands in his pocket, biting his tongue, smiling at you ‘cause he knew it was the quickest and funniest way to get you riled up.

And ultimately, unleash the road rage.

“And everyone on the road gets it taken it out on them,” Grace assumed, shaking her head at the pair of you.

“I get to watch you shout at other people that isn’t me! I’m going to love it?!” He defended excitedly.

“I mean most songs from 2014-15 always remind me of the start of our relationship. That’s just my favourite era of music I think in general,” you confessed, “I feel like any One Direction song transports me into our first apartment, or like . . Rita Ora or old Rihanna. Bruno Mars. Or Calvin Harris and David Guetta . Although - Coldplay always reminds me of our relationship, they always had songs on the radio and in those old Youtube videos - even on Fifa. When I saw they were coming out with tickets, I had to get us some.”

“WITH THE WRISTBANDS?!”

“YEAH!”

“No! They look magical on my TikTok.”

“I didn’t think he was gonna go,” you looked to Harry, smiling sopily at him, remembering how when you’d told him you’d gotten you both them he'd first told you to go with Faith instead or something, not knowing if it was worth the ticket, but then gradually getting him to agree to go, he’d found it one of the most wholesome nights of his life, for the both of you.

And you were right - it did take him back, hearing particular songs that brought him back to your early days in London, figuring this things out together, hearing their songs play on the radio and feature in the latest Fifa coming out.

Plus, a romance lyric was always gonna make him think of you, whoever sang it. He empathised with songs a lot more than he used to these last few years, found understanding in them.

He knew why you tended to sing a lot of lyrics to him. He’d only began doing the same.

He could call your music shit all he wanted — he’d sang ‘Kiss me’ with you at your last festival after calling it shit when you played it in the car, and who had the video to prove he liked it? Mr Freezy, who’d captured the wholesome moment between you both, tipsily sways with your arms around each other’s waist.

“They are legends.”

“Tell me you don’t think of 2014 when you hear A Sky Full of Stars?!”

“No, I can’t. You’re right,” Grace nodded.

“It was pretty sick. The wristbands were cool, too.” Harry admitted, liking how they were in replacement for phone flashlights.

“It was probably one of the best concerts I’ve been to. All concerts I’ve been to has been great, and I love going with friends. Coldplay was different though.”

“So you usually go to concerts with friends?”

“Yeah. It’s like the cinema - he never goes to the cinema so the cinema is a date with the girls,” you declared. “Faith, Frey, Freezy’s girl, Talia.”

“I mean your friend group is very tied together, boys and gals, it’s probably nice to get away from each other as a whole from time to time.”

“Yeah, ‘course.” You agreed. “The boys can have their nights out, we can have ours.”

“How do you feel about that? ‘Cause I still feel . . . I don’t know. I mean the idea of my boyfriend going out — if my boyfriend were to go away for a lad’s holiday for a week?!” She exclaimed, not even wanting to think of such nightmare.

“We let - we don’t care about that,” Harry laughed, pointing between you both. He found it incredibly funny how couples got into arguments about that all the time. It was something either you batted an eye over. “I spend a week with the boys, I come running home like ‘Y/n! Y/n! You’ll not believe what I’m about to tell you! Wait ‘til you hear!’” He mimicked him bursting through the door with his suitcase, usually a bit of sun evident on his face and hat to cover his god-awful, messed up mop. “I FaceTime her every night anyway! I -she’s the first person I tell!”

“No honestly, the second we step foot home, it is always the biggest gossip sesh - as you’d expect!” You defended, “it’s the funniest thing ever, getting to show your photos and tell the stories behind them - it is complete bants.” You almost wiped away a tear just thinking of the past stories you’d told him when your group of friends were ler lose for your annual girl’s trip.

“So you don’t get anxiety at all at the thought of your other half . . running around, shitfaced with other people trying to lay it on them?”

It was quiet, the two of you looking at Grace like you were supposed to have a particular answer. “. . no”

“Why? Why would I?” Harry awkwardly laughed.

“Like . . in terms of cheating?” You assumed, “no? I mean I’m worried if he were to badly hurt himself or get thrown into something, stupid shit like that. If I thought for one second he would cheat on me, I wouldn’t be sitting here with him now, are you joking?!” You scoffed. “People who are worried about letting their man or girl go on holiday with their mates because they know within themselves they would even think of cheating on them — you shouldn’t be with them. For real, what are you doing?”

“Yeah, I’ve never understood that.” Harry agreed, reaching for his drink.

“No but don’t you even get a little bit anxious? Like, what if their mates egg them on?”

“Our mates aren’t like that,” you both laughed, feeling stupid or something for not getting the question. “He literally sends me selfies of him on the strip in Vegas ‘going to find the sexiest stripper ever to cheat on you with tn’,” you’d send her the picture to pop up on the screen from a few months ago.

“No I couldn’t, I’d take that to heart. What if his friends actually encouraged that?”

“We wouldn’t be friends with them if they— are – Grace, are you okay? What relationship trauma have you got?” You reached to jokingly rub her arm while she laughed, realising how you both just didn’t relate to the subject at all.

“No,” she played along, putting her head in her hand. “I just want what you two have.”

You laughed, grabbing her glass, “you will! You do! With Billy!”

“No, I know. I’m joking,” she sipped her drink. “I love that for you though.”

“That’s a question I will never understand, I don’t know, I-I-I think that’s wild, that that's a real thing. I get worried and annoyed about people maybe annoying her trying to get with her and touching her - but not like . . about her replicating. That’s why I can joke about it ‘cause I know she’ll get to joke back about it when it’s his turn.” Except my jealousy actually does go through the roof.

“Right, moving on! I saw you posted a throwback on your story this morning of you during Lockdown saying how different you looked and I need to know - or I’m assuming anyway, that you were one of the couples that survived Lockdown, because lots of couples who were together for years split during this time so I’m curious to hear. Did you or didn’t you?”

“Yeah we did. We were only just back together when Lockdown happened.”

“And you chose to quarantine together?!”

“Yeah, he asked me to.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah. I regretted it.”

You scoffed and hit his arm pathetically.

“No, yeah I did.”

“‘Cause you thought she would change her mind about getting back together?”

“Kind of, yeah. More so just . . missing her.” Getting to spend every day, every minute with you after not having you for approaching 2 years was a God send. “And being able to shag.”

Grace laughed loudly at that.

“I think that’s why so many couples did quarantine together, being honest,” you claimed, “and then realised like . . they’re getting more headaches than . . ”

“Head.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah that’s why I regretted it.”

“Harry,” you scoffed again.

He was only joking . . sort of.

“So you quarantined in your apartment?”

“We quarantined in my parent’s house in Guernsey.”

“No!” Grace gasped, “and you were shagging?!”

“We weren’t really shagging,” he almost rolled his eyes. Sort of. He didn’t need his parents to know that info!

You sure as hell weren’t shagging half as much as you’d liked! “We actually coped really well,” he looked at you to confirm.

“We did. It felt like we got another chance to relive . . the start of our relationship again? ‘Cause I’d always be in his house and we’d just sit up in his room and he’d film and — it was so nostalgic sitting in that bedroom again. It was so weird, but yeah, we loved it.”

“Did either of you catch Covid?”

“He caught covid and tried to get me to— tried to infect me!”

“Did you?!” She laughed.

“No listen—”

“When restrictions lifted and you were first allowed to see other people, I went to my family’s house for a night and he told me he caught it!”

“The second she leaves, I caught it, what’s that about,” he complained.

“He tried to get me to come over to his apartment in Guernsey ’cause he obviously wasn’t going to stay in the house and I was like ‘no! no way’ as much as I woulda wanted to—”

“Fake love.”

“And when he came back to the house he still had symptoms? So his Mum made him stay in his room for another while,” you laughed thinking back to it, “and I stayed with Rosie, and he hated it, he was so bad—”

“‘Cause I was done isolating the two weeks and then I come back and she gets me to do it again and!—”

“I would walk past the stairs and he’d be at the top, nodding for me to come up to his room anyway.”

“It was the most frustrating thing ever, I wasn’t even allowed in the kitchen.”

“Nah that is annoying,” she agreed, “but you isolated together anyway! And it worked out!”

You nodded. Guernsey was your safe place after all, the place you’d found each other and gotten together, it was your little island to act freely together on. Maybe that’s why the relationship flourished so well, ‘cause it’d grown from the roots once again.

“I did touch a bit about your split with you the last time so I don’t think we need to dig too deep, but I am interested to hear if you have anything to say” Grace reached for her bottle of Malibu to top up, glancing at Harry, “i’ll get you another beer if you spill.”

He only closed his eyes, hands tucked away in his pocket.

“I’m just curious because I heard y/n’s side of things which I imagine to be very different from yours because you didn’t stop being on camera when all this was going on and you – I’m assuming you didn’t neglect your socials or anything so I mean . . how did you cope when the relationship status started getting some attention? Did you guys ever announce your split?”

“Did I ever announce our split? Are you taking the piss?” He laughed, looking at her with big eyes. He knew the fanbase had really opened their arms to you in recent years and allowed you the confidence to post without being attacked so much anymore — but he still didn’t owe them anything. His relationship was his business.

“What?! Not even when you got back together?!” She was actually quite surprised to hear this!

“NO!”

“No?”

“No!”

“Huh . . fair enough!”

You laughed at their interaction.

“Did you even acknowledge it in videos? Did you not like . . even poke fun at it?”

Harry slightly cringed and you could tell by how he closed one eye, pulling a face in though, “I mean . . the boys definitely used to try, majority of the time I wouldn’t let it pass, I’d–I’d take it wrong and be sour about it . . but there are definitely few jabs in a video or two, I’m sure, yeah. Nothing personal, just like . . regular ex slander. Probably getting bigheaded for a second and . . yeah.”

“Yeah, those clips get put in edits of me,” you sassily twirled your hair around your finger, acting big headed at the thought of them sneakily slandering you in a video before transitioning into the hottest 15 second edit of yourself.

“Don’t even get me started on the edits.” Grace held a hand up. “So can we actually hear of how you two rekindled? You don’t have to give major details but how did you actually reconnect?”

“He texted me.”

“I texted her.”

“Oh!”

“Yeah, I just texted her. I saw her beforehand . . in a shop or . . and I ran home . . and it was Freezy who said like, just text her and say you saw her, or something.”

“And you did?”

“Yeah, I-I mean . . something in me knew it was a good time to maybe try and reach out or whatever, ‘cause I had times when I wanted to before but I knew I-I wouldn’t – I knew it wouldn’t work.”

“Had you always planned on rekindling?”

“Uhh, I definitely wanted to see her again after that, yeah. I never planned on our last conversation being that last conversation, I wanted to – yeah, I wanted to see her again when we were both . . in good spirits and . . wouldn’t be triggered by seeing each other,” he smiled awkwardly.

“Did you think you’d get back together or did you not get your hopes up?”

“Oh I was on a mission.”

You burst out laughing at that, covering your mouth with your hand as he grinned at your reaction. “No, I-I had my hopes up already like, the second she replied to me. I think I knew I just wasn’t . . I didn’t text her . . to just be her friend. I didn’t text her so I could just be in her life again.” He voiced sneakily.

“But he tried to tell me he wanted to be friends.”

“I did. But you knew I was lying. I knew I was lying.”

“So you always planned on getting her back?” Grace smirked.

“I just wanted her to like me again,” he laughed, “I-I— yeah. I guess so. I just knew that was the end goal. Meeting new people and going back to old habits like — I was so over that, man. I knew that wasn’t for me, and it wasn’t even that I wanted a relationship, I wanted our relationship, our dynamic. It doesn’t hit the same when you’re so used to something else. Even my train of thought wasn’t the same, like . . not saying I was horrific! I like to think I gave my everything and I did my best at being the best for others but it’s like . . this yapping in my head going ‘i don’t wanna do this’, ‘I don’t even wanna do that’, I-I never wanted to do anything out of the genuineness of my heart, things felt like a chore.” He knew it was bad when he had to force himself to plan a nice date when he would have much rather have done something with the boys. “And I’m sorry to say,” he looked to the camera as if these people would be watching, “but like . . I’ve never felt that with her. I’ve never felt obligated to do something for her ‘cause I know I probably should as-as her boyfriend - it’s all natural. ‘Cause I want to, and I think that’s how it should be when you’re with . . the person you're supposed to be with, I think that’s how you know you’re with someone you’re supposed to be with,” he rambled.

“Yeah!”

“And it’s weird man, it’s scary ‘cause like . . you can do all these things, things you enjoy, that make you happy and with someone who you might like and . . it’s just not . . you might not feel fully content. It might never be as fulfilling as what you’ve had before and you just have to accept that which is like . . how is that fair? I hated that shit. I kept comparing and it’s an awful thing to do but my subconscious - I was never enjoying it the way I wanted to,” he paused. “I had this whole crisis over a dream I got married and had kids and was a depressed fucker ‘cause it wasn’t her,” he suddenly side-tracked as he pointed at you, “she was famous on TV for some reason and I realised what a shitty life I was having.”

Grace laughed alongside you who slightly facepalmed because you’d heard of these dreams a hundred times. “What?”

“No, I used to have dreams of her marrying someone and having kids and I’d run into them and just— mate. I would wake up in the worst mood, have anxiety in my chest—”

“HAA! Shut up!” The host hit her chair, finding a relatableness in this underlying jealousy.

“Was the worst, man, but yeah. Longest year of my life.”

“It honestly felt like 5 years looking back on it, I think I get a bit embarrassed when I remember it was only 2 years.”

“It was a year and a half.”

“Ok, a y—”

“It was actually under a year and a half,” he raised his brows, looking at his nails.

“Ok well it felt much longer at the time.”

“Did you cry a lot?”

You looked at her unimpressed. “Are you serious?”

You all laughed at that, struggling to sip your drink, “did you ever cry?”

That question sparked your interest as you looked to your side, watching an awkward smile grow on Harry's face when getting asked such question. He shook his head.

“Now not even once?” Grace didn’t believe him. You didn’t know if you did either, but I mean . . not even once? “Is big W2S not an emotional man?”

“I am, I am, I can be very like — I would be when I’m with my friends and especially when I’m drunk but—” he felt put on the spot . . and this felt so personal and it was going online.

But he looked to his left and saw your face eyeing him up and down for any indication of an answer, the smile on your lips nervous despite not knowing what answer you wanted to hear. “Go on, you did, didn’t ya?” She teased.

“I-I probably cried . . I cried once.”

“No you didn’t,” you threw your head back annoyingly.

But he did. Harry remembered that day in Guernsey when his whole family had gone out and he’d been left alone in his room where he had that pathetic, frustrated cry, hating himself. Even though nobody was home, he still didn’t make a sound, remembering that feeling of hot tears soaking into his lashes as he kept his eyes closed. “I’d like to think I’d cried. I dunno, I can’t remember,” he tried to play it off, “I think I did,” he rubbed his eyelid.

He remembered it well because the next day he’d come downstairs and his Mum had shouted at him, seeing his eyes were red and and she’d assumed he’d smoked drugs while they were out.

And he apologised! Going with it because he wasn’t telling her he’d really cried!

You saw through his facade of embarrassingly covering it up, telling you clearly that what he’d said was true. And viewers would see that little change of expression in your eyes if they watched closely enough, seeing the equivalent of your heart melting like butter.

“No I got drunk and . . other things,” he looked at the camera, breaking you from your daydream as you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah I would cry when . . I would wake up in the middle of the night . . and take a big fat swig of my drink at 3AM ‘cause my mouth turns to a desert — because you weren’t there to shout at me for drinking so loud.” He laughed at you, at the accuracy, and you laughed back at him.

“Have you ever made her cry? ‘Cause my boyfriend makes me cry,” she lowered her head, trying to be serious when really she was holding back a cackle. Your laughter slipped out past your lips and she copied, breaking. Harry looked lost between you both. “No! ‘Cause Billy -he doesn’t actually make me cry- but he makes me want to cry with frustration when he winds me up so bad? Like . . you know when you’re maybe on your period and they try to have a joke and you just aren’t having it on? Or even playing too rough like I can only be RKO’d so many time?”

“No yeah, I get you. I don’t really cry—”

“Y/n, you turned 25 and became an emotional—” Harry didn’t give you the chance.

“Oh?!” Grace laughed at that sudden attack, seeing you freeze with your mouth open.

“You have! You have!” Harry didn't mean it in a bad way, it was simply true. He reached his hand over and squeezed just above your wrist to assure you not to take it badly, but that he was stating a simple fact. “You do, y/n, you cry over spilled milk at times.”

“No I don’t?!”

“You cry over movies and news articles and old photos - I watched you cry over a TikTok of a dog reuniting with her stolen puppies the other day.”

“‘CAUSE IT WAS SAD?!”

“It was happy?! How is that sad?!”

“‘Cause they were taken from her!” Why did you feel a tear wanting to come out at the reminder of that video? But also why were you laughing at him bringing that up?

“See that’s me when I'm on my period.”

“That’s her in general now! She turned into a big pool of butter in the last 2-3 years and-” he shrugged, knowing he was right.

“Are you calling me a snowflake?” You fired, that even Grace jumped because that tone went against what he’d just said.

“Yeah.” He said uneffected.

“Well I don’t cry — I don’t cry when you — actually, you did make me cry the other day,” you bit your finger.

Harry looked at you oddly, having absolutely no recollection of that statement. He literally never made you cry so what were you about to come off with.

“Like there were tears in my eyes.”

“What are you on about?”

“In the kitchen?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

“I was winding him up for once,” you already began snickering, “we were in the kitchen and he was just not in the mood. I was— I’ve done this before and just never learned, I did it with a tea towel and it ended the same way. I,” you laughed again. “So he came in, moody already, and I was making something, I was in an upbeat mood, bit hyper, baking the goods—”

“She’s in a silly goofy mood,” Grace already defended your case next to you.

“Yeah! So, he comes in, I see the face: immediately start to wind him up. He’s trying to make tea or something, I dunno, and I hit him with the wooden spoon - not even hard! But on his arse—I mean he jumped.”

“Ooo, crack to the backside.”

“LITERALLY!”

“—and he grabbed the spoon and was like, ‘don’t go there’ and I just get that rush - bearing in mind, he’s smiling the tiniest bit—”

“That’s a green light if I ever saw one! Lets get ready to ruuuuummmmbleeeeeee.”

“Thank you! So . . I do the same, smacked his arse, he goes,” you snickered again.

“—it was a whack! I was annoyed as it is! An—”

“He grabbed my arm, he goes, ‘i’m gonna hurt you if you do that again.’ I was like,” you rubbed your hands together, showing how you were getting a kick out of being the one doing the winding up. “I was clearing up in the kitchen, his back is turned to me, boiling a pot of water— I hit him one sneaky slap and go to sprint— no. He yanked me by my arm and slapped - I mean slapped my ass — you do not understand the sound of this heavy hand, connecting with my cheek. I – Grace, the hand mark on my cheek–” Grace was laughing with at your face, how you brought your hand to your mouth to represent the shock, “you’re laughing. I cried. The tears in my eyes—”

Harry had a little guilt to him as he heard the story back but still smiled because you were in that state of trying to laugh because it was funny, realistically - you’d deserved it, but it had stolen your breath away.

Plus, he knew by the end of the night, he’d took back what he did and lay opposite you, rubbing your poor, tender cheek whilst babbling the sappiest of lines in a baby voice for you to eat up. Yeah, over his dead body was Grace or anyone else hearing that.

“It branded my ass, but yeah. I did cry.”

“What did you do?!”

“I looked at him with tears clouding my vision in shock! It hurt!” But it was funny.

“. . my hand stung to be fair—”

“They play too rough sometimes,” Grace waved her finger at him while looking to the camera, “I get it, I’m telling you. Billy whipped me with the tea towel the other day and—”

“Painful.”

“Yeah! And what arse have I got to protect me? To brace me? Nothin’!”

“I get it! Getting whipped is like—”

“‘Av you ever got whipped with a belt?”

It was silent as she sprung her random question on you, getting sidetracked. You looked at her oddly, but then raised your brows as you realised. “Have actually - but not how you think! Do you remember this? It’s—it’s one of those things of . . d’you know when you get up to random shit in your house?”

“It was one of those conversations of ‘how much would you take to do this?’” Harry tried to help explain. Grace was baffled by what you two clearly got up to in your spare time, what you considered fun, and was laughing with her drink in her mouth.

Harry smiled, “I-I’ve got whipped before! I’ve got whipped before in so many Sidemen videos, I already knew what it was like!”

“Right! Context! Please!”

“I remember exactly when this was, it was when I was packing? The night before Gr—remember? I was packing our case? It was a long day. Bored and tired, sorting our stuff, rooms a mess, stomping over piles of clothes — I find a belt.” You began to explain. “I started doing that thing, d’you know when you fold it over and pull and it makes that smacking sound?”

“Yes!”

“I said to him ‘how much would for me to smack your arse with this?’, he said he’d already got belt to the arse before by the boys; he had to do it for a video, so he said, ‘how much for me to whack you with the belt?’ And he said it wasn’t that sore, and I kind of made it a competition in my head of who could take it better? So I said ‘£70’.”

“Best 70 quid ever,” Harry tried to hold back his cackle as he thought of the event and how it was one of his favorite memories because of the outcome. Rubbing his hands, he recreated his excitement upon telling you to bend over and seeing your unphased expression in the mirror.

Tell you what — it wasn’t unphased a moment later.

“Grace, the next day, not even 12 hours later, I am walking about this sizzling country in my bikini, strutting about the pool with this big fucking belt mark on my ass for everyone and their family to see.”

“FUCK OFF!”

“Everyone’s taking the piss, I can’t even explain ‘cause they’ll just think you’re lying anyway?!”

“Jesus, was it bad?”

“It wasn’t the worst pain like, it kind of just steals your breath,” your brow twitched. It wasn’t . . horrible . . “kind of get an adrenaline rush after it.”

“Kind of get a kick from it, ay? I’ll have to um . . tellBillyaboutthat—” she coughed, “no but I get that, when you get your own place it’s like you do these things - you come off with these ideas - actually, speaking of — how long were you together before you moved out? Because Cal was making fun of me for saying I would move with Billy 5 months into dating him. Is that weird?”

“Nah mate I get that,” Harry agreed, “I would never - I think you have to give it a year before doing that,” he couldn’t imagine moving in with someone so soon. “I mean we moved to London not even a year but—”

“OH HERE WE GO! MR BIASED HERE!—”

“No but I get it—”

“BUT YOU GUYS ARE DIFFERENT, YEAH, OK—”

“I think it’s crazy too, some people move in that soon, but I mean if you know, you know,” you laughed, “I don’t know how we did that – I don’t know how we pulled that off,” you looked at him, “but if you feel it’s right, go for it.”

“It’s just better having your own place together, isn’t it, you get to do whatever you want,” she started.

“Yeah, of course. Your house, your rules. Do whatever shit you want, no consequences.”

“Yeah! You get to make all little personal memories like, yeah, I really want to,” she told you, feeling like she’d gotten encouragement. “I can’t imagine living with your parents still and like . . then hearing if you do have a disagreement or even just spoiling your fun?!”

“Yeah, that probably would have been our issue,” you chuckled, “like being loud, leaving a mess—”

“Hearing you get whipped by a belt—”

“Ye– yeah! Literally! Breaking stuff— me and Harry broke our new dining table a week after getting it ‘cause we were riding a bike indoors, not even drunk, and broke the corner off — we had to deal with it but there were no telling off from parents,” you reasoned.

“You rode a bike inside your apartment?”

“Yeah.” You didn’t need to add further.

“It is better having your own place, I could have never stayed with my parents — I love staying with my parents but when you have someone and like . . yeah, you don’t want - a house can feel very small,” Harry gave his input. “When you get your own house with someone, you’ll never go back to that, honestly.”

“Yeah, I get it, you make it your own. You get to do your own weird shit! Billy and I rented a little cabin the other week and we were just whacking each other with wooden spoons in the kitchen, d’you know what I mean? Testing the good ‘ole pain tolerance.”

“Yeah!”

“Yeah, I really want to. It just the privacy, innit? Not even for sex but even just . . being weird.” She laughed, “like being couple-y with like . . no one to walk in on you.”

You got that completely. Was it relevant to bring up how you and Harry had tested your pain tolerance when you’d bit his nose when laying across from each other in bed, laughing ‘cause it tickled in a way and also that his tolerance was better?

No. He’d maybe want that to stay quiet.

“Anyway! So I have a few questions for you I got sent through before we wrap this up, from my lovely followers,” she held a hand out to the camera. “A few may or may not have come from the boss so if you could just answer them,” she coughed. “What nicknames slash pet names you got for each other?”

You both hesitated.

This was a set up from Freezy. It had to be.

“My girl.”

“My— my big boy.”

The two of you laughed awkwardly between it ‘cause . . I mean come on. “I’ve always called him that, I’m pretty sure there’s a birthday post on my instagram from 2014 of me saying ‘my big boy’,” you half-giggled, rubbing your eye. It slipped out. “S’just . . what I call him. My big boy,” you mimicked patting the back of a baby rested on your shoulder, when really, it was what you did to Harry when he came home after a day’s work, tired with a sore head from all the lighting, he’d throw himself down on top of you for you to baby whilst also catching up on Love Island. Scratching and tickling his back, peering over his shoulder as his scent would fill your nose.

But also — in another sense. Wanting your big boy to come over and throw himself down on you alright.

Harrys wasn’t unique either, but how he said it was what melted your insides. Always said with excitement and pride, empathy and comfort. You didn’t have to say your name to know who his ‘girl’ was.

“Sometimes George. Harry George. But that’s mostly for a warning or in disbelief or somethin’,” you itched your nose. Rarely he just got George, maybe when he was in a daydream and not responding to any name you’d say it. But hearing his middle name made Harry nervous, because it either meant something really good or something really bad was coming from you. He always kinda just . . froze at the top of the stairs.

“Pet peeve about one another?”

“I hate the amount of times he puts his fucking hand in his fucking pants,” you looked over to see if his hand was tucked beneath the waistband, “he is the worst for that, you know the way guys do that?”

“Oh my God,” he already grumbled from his chair, surprised he hadn’t expected that answer.

“I don’t care if it’s comforting or whatever, every time I look over at him, he’ll could be sitting on the sofa with his hand on his fuckin’—”

“No ‘cause its like—”

“I don’t need a demonstration! I’m just saying.”

“I don’t get it either. I imagine it to be like when you put your hands between your thighs to keep ‘em warm.”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“What’s your pet peeve about her?”

Harry pondered. He looked at you, tapping his finger to his lip. “I hate the way she overanalyses everything. Sorry — I hate the way she overanalyses me. Men. She does it with my mates—”

“What?” Even you could feel a laugh coming on. “What do you mean by that?!”

“Like she gets all psychological in the way you think! Over everything! In an argument! In a debate! Like like like— I will give you a perfect example,” oh he clearly had something to get off his chest! “A while ago . . . we were arguing. Call it a disagreement.”

“Oh I remember this,” you nodded your head dramatically.

“I . . . got louder.”

“He raised his voice.” You corrected.

“What? You shouted?”

“He raised his voice, and I— I was like—” you’d honestly been shocked when a certain someone’s temper got the best of him, standing in your hall with your mouth open and him trying to speak over you. You hadn’t even argued back after it, not wanting to look at him after addressing you like that. You’d gone and resumed your tv show, blanking him.

He was right, it wasn’t a big fight, but he’d made it a big deal doing that.

What girl liked being shouted at by their man? Their big boy?

“It wasn’t even a fight! I said not 20 minutes later, I apologised, I was like ‘I am sorry for shouting but you weren’t hearing what I saying—’, she goes, ‘no, I was raising my voice—” god, he mocked your voice so bad.

“I said ‘I raised my voice because you weren’t listening to me’, I said ‘you were raising your voice because I wasn’t doing what you wanted me to do’—”

“You said obeyed.”

“I don’t think I did.”

“No you did.”

“I think I rem—”

“No, I remember you said it.”

“. . this argument is 2 years old?” You looked at him.

“And I remember it like it was yesterday ’cause I remember you made it sound like I was some big disgusting, controlling man and-and not your equal.”

Your mouth fell open slightly as you looked at him with raised brows, heart kind of pinching at his words.

He really thought that?

“Aww, what?” You reached your arm around his neck as he played on your guilt, not wanting it to be taken seriously, but he meant it.

“So there you go, she gets in your head and picks it apart, she does it all the time on Ethan an—” he tried to play up his act as you just wanted nothing more than to pull him on top of you and smother him in love like he was your big baby like at home.

“You mansplain the male mind fo males, is that your specialty?” Grace laughed, finding that such a boss move.

“No she literally does! She goes to Lux the other day!” Somehow you were the one on him, his arms wrapped around whilst trying to have a conversation with Grave with his beer in his other hand, “—‘don’t use weaponised incompetence on me, it’ll not work’,” Harry pulled his baffled face, “DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT FUCKIN’ MEANS?!”

“WEAPON WHAT?!”

Gosh. You really weren’t on the same page for once.

“Using her big words to patronise everybody,” he looked at you, up and close, now you say just centimetres from his eyes, getting inspected. He loved you for it though.

“Is that your big word?” Your lips tugged to the side, and when he pulled his blank face, you laughed, and reached for your drink to finish off, sliding off him.

“What is weaponsided incompetence?”

“It’s when someone pretends to be bad at something so you’ll do it for them,” you explained, stirring the little umbrella in your glass.

“Oh my God.”

“That’s my pet peeve, she thinks she’s smar—she thinks she’s better than everybody,” your boyfriend teased in a serious tone.

“I am,” you spoke into the rim of your glass before taking a sip.

“Did you ever shag in the lamborghini?”

Cal had to have asked that.

“No.”

“No.”

“No? Did you have a lambo?!”

“‘Course he did,” you rolled your eyes so far back. What did you expect for a basic white boy to buy with his horrific stacks of cash?

“No. It was too low, too cramped.” Harry mumbled.

“The Mini Cooper did the job,” you rubbed your eye, laughing with the confession. “You can make fun of it all you want, my little girly car and have your cool cars — that’s not where the shagging went on!”

Grace laughed, laughing even more at the blond who was hiding his face in his hand at the conversation.

“ThisIsMoreSoMyOwnCuriosity—have you ever called someone the other’s name?” She locked her phone. “Did it ever . . slip out?”

It was quiet from both you, “y—” neither wanting to answer. I mean cut you both some slack, you’d been with such other over 4 years at the time! It was gonna take a moment to change the name on the tip of your tongue! At least you could say so on a certain occasion . .

But Harry’s embarrassed shake of the head and avoid on gaze told you both something you didn’t know before.

Woah! Talk about soulmate behaviour, no? No?

“One of the first dates I went on after him, they asked me what my necklace stood for – I’d worn it going to bloody dinner!” You shared, the H seeming to stand out under the lights as you talked about it. You could still remember the shock on your face as you reached for it, completely forgetting of its existence. But again, you’d worn it every single day for so man years, it didn’t even feel like it was there anymore.

“Safe to say I’m sure he didn’t come back,” she swiftly moved on, holding in a laugh. “Why haven’t you put a ring on it?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” the blond dropped his head bashfully.

“Isn’t like . . your friends getting married?”

“Yeah.”

“So why . . ? Are you scared or something?”

“I-I-I . . . I don’t know, I just don’t know. Just anxiety man.”

“Don’t you want to marry that?” Grace pointed to you.

And he looked at you still smiling awkwardly, and he didn’t know why he was put off so much. With you, he could do anything. For you, he’d do anything, so why did he let nerves get the best of him when he knew everything would be ok? “You say all these things, you don’t like anyone else and you won’t cuff this bitch for life? This smoking hot bitch—”

“I don’t know! I don't know! Maybe when Vik and Simon get married, I’ll get . . encouraged.”

You rolled your eyes.

“You coulda been the first.”

“I coulda been. Coulda been. If I proposed — I wish I’d done it 5 years in . . and then I coulda waited a while.” But oop! Wha—what happened around 2019 again? What were you doing back then?

Not each other, tell you that.

“Mate - too many anniversaries to celebrate! I-I – we need to find our anniversary so we can get married on that day ‘cause I ain’t celebrating two different—”

“No, you guys should get married on your 10 year anniversary, then it’s a nice whole number,” Grace sparked the bright idea with a snap of her fingers.

“I’ve thought of that before,” you admitted, but then that’d mean you’d only have a year or so to plan. Not that Harry knew this anyway. You could tell he didn’t know this ‘cause he looked at you interestingly.

Hm.

“Do you want to get married?”

“I don’t even know, like,” he looked at you oddly, “what difference does it make? You finally take your purity ring off, or-or,” he said bluntly. You laughed loudly in the back of your hand.

“I mean I’d get your last name,” you looked at the toes of your shoes.

That was what hung over you, and that was what caught him out too. That was the one thing that made the day worth it for him. But ugh, what a long day.

Grace interrupted. “I want in on the Hen.”

“You and Cal can plan them,” you laughed. “No, I genuinely don’t care. I would never rush him. We’re chilling. I don’t even know what shape ring I want.”

That made Harry slightly nervous.

“What would people be surprised to hear about you both? As a couple? About your relationship?”

That both made you pause and think hard.

“Likeee . . do you ever have any assumptions from fans that are just totally wrong? Like—”

“Oo! Yeah! I know! People like to think I—‘cause I don’t post pictures. I don’t take pictures of her or that we have no pictures together,” Harry shook his head, “my camera roll is horrific.”

“LET ME SEE.”

“Jesus Christ, no,” he actually had to laugh in his hand at the inexplicable shit he had on there. A lit from the boys WhatsApp chat. He didn’t even know how to explain certain photos to you.

“GO ON!”

“Your video would get demonetised I guarantee you,” he laughed, “but I do take a lot of photos, especially of her.” Truth be told — you were probably the most photographed thing in there. “Our whole house is covered in photos?!”

“Our whole house is covered in photos,” you confirmed, “the second you step through the door, you will see pics from ski trips or Dubai or Italy or Amsterdam,” you could see the little frame photograph you’d gotten a stranger to take of you both on your first holiday trip.

Your favourite had to be holiday photos, specifically candids, like when Freezy took of you both sharing a chair and talking on the balcony, or with your arms around him in the water, tasting the same food and drink in an outside restaurant or when you’d put cold, greek yoghurt on his face when he’d burnt it to a crisp under the sun. You’d put it on yours, to make him feel less stupid, and taken a selfie with faces good enough to eat. But your all time favourite had to be when he’d taken a seat at bottom of a sunlounger, and you’d felt his scalp and how hot it’d got from under the sun. He’d sat facing you, and you’d put a towel over his head to protect it from burning even more, and done the same for yourself, knowing you both looked stupid and not like the hot Insta-influencers you both tried to be. It was his Mum who had taken it from next to you, probably to post on Facebook, but it was your favourite, how you both didn’t care as you spoke shit to one another, in your own world, laughing at whatever the other was saying.

“We have loads of fucking’ pictures,” Harry stretched his arms above his head, getting ton comfy in his seat when he’d be needing to move shortly. Too many that was going to be a pain to take down and put up again in your new house.

“9 years worth, hard picking out what ones,” you scraped down your brow hairs. You weren’t even going to mention how you changed the photo on your bedside table depending on what way you cleaned up your room and put on your bedsheets.

“Really! You don’t have all your photos do you?! On iCloud?”

“Oh yeah, Grace. If my iCloud got leaked, I -we- are fucked.”

“Alright, last question because God knows how long this video is and I’m sure the two of you are sick of seeing my face: what is the secret to an ever-lasting, happy relationship?” She locked her phone.

“Just wing it, man.”

You hit his arm, thinking about your answer.

“I think you just have to pick someone who can take a joke, who will keep the relationship playful even when you’re 80. Someone — I think I saw something from David Beckham when he got asked the secret to his marriage and he said ‘she’s my best friend. Would you want to hurt your best friend?’ and I think that kind of reminds me of — I mean you're looking at me like I’m some fuckin’ weirdo now but I know for a fact I would never want to upset any friend of mine. If I was with Talia and Faith and whoever, I’m not thinking about things I could do or say that could hurt them in any possible way, I wouldn’t dare jeopardise them if I think the world of them. Would you do something on Tobi or Ethan or Chris of Freezy or whoever, that you would do on me?”

“No.”

“Well then.”

“Yeah, it’s perfectly valid. I mean I think everyone calls their partner their best friend but when you like . . when they're really that, you don’t even — the things come naturally, you don’t even think of doing . . stupid stuff.” Yeah, he actually related more to that quote than he thought he would. Huh. “Date your best friend.”

“Find friendship in your partner. Keep things light.”

“And shag like the world is ending— no i’m joking,” Harry took back his comment with a high laugh towards you.

“Sure,” you perked a brow, ready to get him out of here.

“Not even to be that guy, but I genuinely think you just know as well. I think you just know within yourself when you’re supposed to know a person, when you’re supposed to be with them like — go with your gut instinct. If it feels like it’s changing you inside - for the better - you’re probably meant to be with them. Same for if they’re not meant for you, if you feel they’re changing you for the worst, drop that donny.” He snapped his fingers before pointing lazily to the camera.

“Very valid,” you nodded.

“Wow, I love that. Thank you for that— thank you for your time, today! I appreciate you both being here today, seriously, you have no idea.”

“No worries, thank you for having us on, it’s always a pleasure.” You smiled at her.

“Guys, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you but you can check these guys out I think on most platforms. You already know their socials, you already know YouTubes. Make sure you subscribe to my channel for more content like this and follow me on my socials - tell them to follow me, they’ll listen to whatever you say.”

“Follow her socials,” Harry obeyed awkwardly, looking at the camera with a giggle.

He was so weird at times. How do you make that awkward?

God, you loved him.

“And before you go, what Saving Grace have you got for me and the viewers at home?”

Harry sat with his mouth open in thought whilst your face pulled together in thought.

“Marry your best friend.”

Aw that was—

“And punch Calfreezy in the face when he’s a dickhead.” Harry hopped off his seat.

You laughed at him, looking at the camera, lost. “And Chip. Just . . the next time you see him. From us.”

Grace was laughing, unable to end the clip as it just cut with you all sharing a pathetic laugh.

A little teaser of Folklore...a chrismd story coming soon to a Tumblr near you...

pls lmk what you think, im actually so proud of how this is coming along!!

thinking about writing again...

i need him biblically.

OHHHHH MY LORD HAVE MERCY

GIVE ME ONE CHANCE 🙏🙏🙏🙏

Beautiful bog

teacher: you cant hear photos

me:

hmmm what are some fanfic tropes the sdmn fandom should write more...

jumberjack!w2s x reader >based on sdmn camping vid >idk just hard fluff/smut of jacked af lumberjack harry surely

kitchen porter!ChrisMD x waitress!reader >based on sdmn open restaurant vid >chris that gets bossed about by the kitchen but reader thinks is cute >shy ahh Chris that also gets teased by the chefs (harry + Simon + ethan + others) for so obviously liking you >i reckon a fic of just straight flirty interactions + chris being teased by the boys for it would be fire >like, imagine one encounter being waitress being stressed over orders n venting that out to Chris while he's piling up the plates that she has to go deliver + once she's returned having delivered all the food, Chris also gives her a drink or little smth just as a pick-me-up / sweet gesture... reader overwhelmed with graciousness so you lean over the bar to give him a peck on the cheek before being called over by manager >chris returns to the kitchen bright red + JJ (having seen the encounter) teases Chris by describing it all to the other workers (Ethan + Harry + Josh etc.) n they all pat him on the back and laugh at how chivalrous (and bright red) he is

mechanic!willne x reader >oops white mustang ref >based on Will's peru vid

obsessive!ArthurTv x popular!reader >idk where i got this one from tbh - maybe kinda inspired by YOU (the show, not you) >but like, INSANELY obsessed with reader - loves everything about you to the point it gets stalkerish >probs a smut ending - reader confronts arthur about it... maybe says they can have a one time thing just to get it out of his system

athlete!G Clarkey x nerdy!reader >it just works doesnt it >based off of literally everything about him >deeffo a smut, unless we want j a really flirty fic which idm either >but like, deffo themes of size kink, G Clarkey muscle worship, shy reader

Arthur Hill x tattoo artist!reader >idk smth about riding him on the table you're meant to be tattooing him on or smth hey idk

Business!Calfreezy x employee!reader >yk how cal is sorta a business guy in terms of the whole fellas-running-podcasts things? >okay so now imagine he has a thing for you n you can sense that... >so whenever you want smth from him - be it a specialist producer, or a new set of microphones, or a set upgrade... >you gotta walk into freezy's office n he makes you earn it >can either be a single one like that, or a pace change-up where reader/freezy tells the other that they don't want each other just for transactional purposes n then the smut ensues 🎁

WillNE x Freezy!sister >OKAY based from the last idea asw >freezy's sister who's just outta uni + Cal's given her a part time to basically be a runner + assistant for him n everyone in the fellas building >will who notices a cute girl in the building's kitchen every so often + sparks up convo w her from time to time n really likes her vibe >just when he's gonna ask her whether she wants to come back to his office to continue one of their convos, after a few weeks of having seen her - cal steps in n tells her to piss off or smth >will reprimands him for not being very nice + cal validates it w "eh, she's my sister before being my worker - i get to be mean to her" >n then in full launch: hidden dating n relationship trope.

Sidemen x Harrys daughter reader

Summary - little snippets of how the reader has fit into the YouTube world. a mix of first and 3rd pov but it will be stated witch at the start.

warnings - none that I can think of, just a bit of swearing near the end. request - yes/no

a/n: this is for fun, I've had this in my head for ages and considering I will never live a life like this, I may as well put it on Tumblr right?. y/n is 14 - 16 in this; it might get more specific if I write more. She doesn't have any specific descriptions! Except for the fact she has hair, so if you're bald, idk (if you find any descriptors let me know, e.g. size or colour) reader is described as a girl, but you could change it, I don't mind. Again, this is a silly little thing purely for my own enjoyment, but if you like it to please don't be a ghost reader!

First sighting

3rd pov

She gets on really well with the boys and has known them for a while now. When she tells Harry she feels comfortable about the public knowing about it, he posts a picture announcing her adoption.

That night, she sat on the sofa Harry sat next to her. Her leg was bouncing as they watched some show on Netflix, but she was too distracted by the notifications Harry was getting on his phone, making it go off every second.

The small pings could barely be heard over the TV, but it was all she could hear. She had turned her phone off, dreading any messages from her old friends or random people online. She wasn’t stupid; she knew she was going to get some form of hate, but if she could avoid it, she would.

The public had never seen her before. Well, some of them recognised her from her karting victories. A wave of nice congratulation comments, good luck, and compliments for her and Harry was soon followed by hate. The comments section was quickly turned off as soon as Harry caught wind of this, not wanting to make an already difficult time harder.

Harrys stream

first pov

I could hear him from my room in are flat. Harry streaming is a rare phenomenon, but I had seen how much the fans loved it, so I somehow convinced him to do it more.

I stand groggily. The late day sun shining through my half-drawn curtains, splotching colours on my floor from the stained glass window vinyl I put up a week ago. I check myself for food stains before walking towards Harry's room, clad in my way-too-big pyjamas. That consists of baggy trousers and a smosh shirt that Harry had bought me.

nudging the door open and sticking my head through. To check if it was suitable for me to come in. Harry turned around and gave me a slight nod, gesturing for me to come in. " hi chat." I waved at the camera. A little nervous my first time on stream.

I had been briefly in some Sidemen videos, but no one had really seen much of me. The chat exploded with hellos, and his chat moved so fast I couldn't keep up, so I leaned closer to the screen. "What are you doing?" I ask Harry, pulling a chair in frame, to sit next to him. "Some weird game chat suggested," he shrugged. I stayed for a few hours before getting tired and heading back to my room.

Georges stream

first pov

I knock on the door to George's room, shouting his name. We were waiting for him as he was streaming. My dad, Chris, Arthur H, and Batch sat on the sofa in the boys' flat, talking animatedly. I have been tasked with getting George's takeout order. He opens the door, standing in one of those aprons that give you abbs, scratching the back of his head. "I can explain." He sighs.

"I don’t think I want you to." I shake my head, looking him from head to toe, noticing the comically large purple shoes he has on. I let out a giggle at the sight. "Ok, well, if you have come just to make fun of me, you might as well leave."

"There is no need for me to make fun of you anymore than you probably have yourself," he starts closing the door slowly. I glance at the chat in the back of his monitor, trying to explain his actions or asking questions about me.

"No, no, no, I need to ask you what you want for dinner, we are ordering in," I say, using my hand to block the door as his eyebrows raise and a smile appears on his face.

"Pepperoni, please. Oh, and what time are you guys leaving?" George asked, then sat back at his desk, reading through the comments and thanking people.

" You want me gone?" I say, faking a look of sadness, arching my eyebrows, and pouting my bottom lip.

" No chat, just want to talk to you, so I need to know how long you will have once you’ve had dinner." he rolled his eyes at me, facing me now, expecting an answer.

" DAD, WHEN DO WE LEAVE!" I shout down the hall to the men sitting in the living room.

"Come here! Stop shouting, you will wake up everyone in the building," Harry replied as I trudged back to him, putting up a finger in George's direction. Signalling, I will be a sec. The chat is pointing out the fact that I called Harry dad.

I slide back into the doorway of George's room. " Around ten. Ethen is picking us up, then dropping me home, and they are going out for drinks," I say as I plop on his bed, still in sight of the stream.

"Do you want to stay here so you don’t have to be alone? The guest room is always open," he said, turning in his chair, eyebrows raised and his hands resting softly on his stomach,

"I'll go ask. thanks!" I slid back out, going to ask my dad. The chat is eating this up. The rare look into their personal life. Making them aww at the interaction.

Sidemen vid

3rd pov

She has known the sidemen for a while; she often hangs out on the set of the vids, and you could sometimes see or hear her in short clips, but she had never been in a video as a contestant or a constant presence.

Until now. Sidemen’s most expensive car challenge. She is on a team with Tobi, and so far, it hasn't been horrible, but now it is starting to get better. The intermediate cars. The ones that were on the more expensive cars, but defo not the most. This was also going to be the largest amount of distance they were going to travel in a car so they really were hoping it wasn’t a shit car. They had got their first. Tobi pulled into the car park surrounded by forest, both giddy to get out of the car and into the next.

Simon stood in front of three cars, rubbing his hands together. "Now I'm excited for this one cuz there is a specific car I want you guys to get," he says, talking excitedly to us and the camera.

"Now I'm nervous." I face Toby as he is getting the present we got for Simon out of the car. A F1 car balloon and a new PS5 controller (idk ok leave me alone it's not relevant) he holds them behind his back, but the balloon bobs above his head, giving it away, laughter settled in the small group. It's not much of a surprise anymore, but Tobi hands him the balloon and controller, and we stand in front of the three cars covered by sheets. Ethan and Josh pull in after us, getting out and waiting till it's their turn.

"I think I know what car it is, but I don’t want to get my hopes up," She said to Toby, hearing Simon giggle and Josh and Ethan laugh once Simon tells them the car he wants us to get.

"Oh mate, shell be gassed!” Ethan says a bit too loudly, meaning we hear. She whips around.

"WHAT! NO! it can't be!!” She faces Simon now.

"Go on, find out, I think you already know what one it is," he laughs out. She looks towards Toby with a questioning glance.

"Go on, I trust you," he says, motioning his hand towards the car.

She ripped the sheet off the car and stood in shock. "No fucking WAY!" a maroon 1960s Chevrolet sat Infront of her. Her hands flying to her mouth and she runs to Simon, rapping him in a hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she squeals.

"No worries", he hugs her back. She goes back to the car, looking at it better. Harry and Vic pull in with their shit car. Harry has the biggest smile on his face as he knew this was coming. It was the only reason he agreed to do the vid, she had been nonstop talking about this car, going on about how it's her dream car.

He got out and slung an arm around her shoulder. "It’s the right colour, right?" He said casually. She turns to him, her arms going around his waist and his over her shoulders, hugging him tight.

"I think we'd better head off then," Tobi said, getting in the driver’s seat. She skips towards the car, earning some chuckles from the boys. She gets in, and Toby starts the engine, rolling down the windows.

"This is incredible", she has the biggest grin on her face as Tobi pulls out everyone, waving. They get on the motorway. A song comes on the radio, possibly the best for the situation, Carry On Wayward Son by Kansas. "OH MY GOD!" she yells, turning up the radio. "This is the best day of my life!" All the windows in the car are down, her hair is blowing like a willow tree in the wind, wild but majestic. She sings her heart out. It might not have been the funniest part of the video, but it definitely was the most enjoyable.

tysm for reading! I have a rough idea of wear I want the reader's story to go, so if you want more parts or have any ideas of vids you want to see her in, let me know!

bye for now! 💗

xoxo Izzy,

anyone want to volunteer to send me screen recordings of george clarkey thirst traps when tiktok gets banned?

a request for maybe some george smut after he comes back from the useless hotline tour that we werent able to go on ?? so like he hasnt seen us in a while

the second george steps into his bedroom, he drops his bags and heads for the shower. he knows you're on your way over, having been waiting by your phone all day for him to let you know he's back. so when your phone dinged, you were already halfway out the door, tripping over your own feet trying to get there as soon as possible.

conveniently, you live about a ten-minute walk away, meaning you're used to seeing george every day. the two weeks he and max had been on tour were difficult, but you tried to make the best out of the situation and would call each other whenever you could.

a few minutes after he had got in the shower, you're at the flat taking the familiar path to his room. your heart pounds in anticipation as you undress quickly after closing the door, glad you'll finally be with him again.

the warm air surrounds you when you step inside the bathroom and lazily drag your eyes over his body. he's standing under the water, eyes closed and head thrown back, making you think of the more sinful times you'd seen him in this position.

"hi george." you say, a smile breaking out on his face when he sees you.

"hi darling. come here." he replies, arms outstretched toward you.

you step into the shower, letting him pull you into him as you wrap your arms around his neck. his arms tighten around you and you close your eyes, water cascading over you both. a comfortable silence sets in and several minutes pass before either of you speak.

"wish you could've come with us, you have no idea how much i missed you. i even struggled to fall asleep." george admits, his cheeks turning slightly red at the confession.

"really?" you raise your eyebrows at him to which he nods, "i missed you too. had to cuddle the teddy you got me instead. wasn't the same."

your hands untangle from his hair and cup his jaw, connecting your lips in a kiss. as the water continues to flow, the kiss grows more passionate. george's hands travel further down, one landing on your ass and squeezing it, the other pressed flat against your lower back to pull you closer to him.

"george," you don't mean for it to come out so breathless, but when his lips detach from yours to trail kisses down your neck, you can't help it, "you've literally just stepped through the door."

"mhm. but, i also currently have my sexy, loving, amazing girlfriend, who i've missed so much, naked in my shower. so, i don't understand the issue." he counters, making you giggle.

two fingers make their way between your legs and start toying with your clit before sliding into you, the sudden stretch causing your knees to buckle. you can feel his cock against your thigh, so you begin pumping him at the same pace he's fingering you, steadily building up your orgasm.

he curls his fingers, repeatedly hitting that spot inside you and your orgasm washes over you within minutes, hands scratching at his back. your eyes squeeze shut and you clench around his fingers, moans filling the room while you ride out your high.

"fuck, baby." you pant, trying to catch your breath.

a proud smirk is plastered on george's face, "you good?"

"so good. your turn."

you go to drop to your knees to return the favour, but he's quick to stop you and shake his head. when a pout appears on your lips, he kisses it away.

"as amazing as that would be, i need to be inside you, like now." he pleads and grips your hips, moving you until your back is pressed against the shower wall.

contradicting his words, he slowly drags his cock through your folds, letting the tip bump your clit a few times. but you're impatient, so you replace his hand with yours and align him with your entrance, jaw dropping as he pushes in.

"fuck, you feel so good, shit." he groans, hands on your hips keeping you steady while he fucks up into you.

he starts off slow, letting you adjust, but as your moans and whimpers grow more desperate, so do his thrusts. the only two words leaving your mouth are 'fuck' and 'george', his ego growing and determination to make you cum doubling.

a particularly harsh thrust has you crying out, holding onto him tighter. the sound of skin slapping echoes around the bathroom, more than likely being heard over the water that's still running.

"you close darling, yea? you gonna cum?" he leans down, connecting your lips once again, not giving you time to respond.

the knot in your stomach is dangerously close to snapping and he knows, one of his hands leaving your hips to rub tight circles on your clit.

"please george." you whimper, clenching around him so tight he swears his brain short circuits.

"cum for me."

a whine escapes your lips and you throw your head back, letting your second orgasm take over your body. his rhythm falters as you cum around him, raking your nails up his back until they're digging into his shoulders.

george's head drops to your shoulder, thrusting into you a few times before pulling out, spilling over your thighs with a moan. both of your chests are heaving while you try to even out your breathing and he places multiple kisses to your shoulder and neck.

"well, that was quite the welcome home." george chuckles, "might leave more often if that's what i get when i come back."

"don't you dare."

--------

a low whistle comes from behind george as he enters the kitchen. you're curled up in his bed, having had a proper shower after his 'welcome home', and he's gone to grab you some water in just a pair of joggers, not realising bright red scratch marks are all over his back.

"take it y/n is here then?" chris chuckles, eyeing george from the sofa.

"uh, yea? how'd you know?" he furrows his brows in confusion since there's no sign of your things in the kitchen or living room.

before chris can answer, arthur hill walks in, eyes widening when he notices the marks too.

"damn george, what the hell happened to you?"

"y/n." chris replies, not taking his eyes off the tv.

"ah, right." arthur nods in understanding with a smirk on his face.

deciding to ignore their comments, george walks back to his room, being met with your horrified expression when he turns around.

"george! did you actually go to the kitchen like that?" you groan and he nods, confused, "there's marks all over your back. it's so obvious we've just fucked."

well, that explains it.

a/n not proofread sorry <33 hope you enjoyed!

just like mummy | george clarke

george is in the kitchen finishing the washing up, when he notices the ever-noisy house is now oddly silent. this is unusual considering your 6 year old twin daughters, willow and ivy, are home. knowing silence is more often than not an indicator of his girls being up to no good, george decides to see what they're up to.

he makes his way to the living room, expecting them to be playing with their toys, but to his surprise, they're not there. next, he checks their bedroom, again not finding them. he begins to panic a little before hearing a giggle from your shared bedroom.

quietly, george pushes open the door, wanting to see what they're doing. the second ivy spots her dad, the smile on her face is replaced with a worried expression, and she tries to hide what they're playing with behind her back. willow turns around at her sister's reaction, replicating ivy's expression when she realises george has found them. but it's obvious what they were doing, the sheer amount of makeup on willow's face a dead giveaway.

"ivy-mae what have you been doing to your sister?" george asks, his tone soft but stern.

she starts fiddling with her dress, not meeting his gaze, "we're playing dress up."

"we wanted to be pretty like mummy." willow adds, tears welling up in her eyes since she thinks george is mad at them.

his eyes soften and he sits down next to them, pulling them both into a hug. willow doesn't pull away from the hug, instead nuzzling her face into george's chest as she starts to cry. makeup definitely gets on his top, but he can't find it in him to care.

"darling, don't cry. i'm not mad," he strokes her cheek, wiping away a tear, "but you should've asked to use mummy's stuff okay? and you don't need makeup. you're the prettiest girls in the whole wide world."

grabbing some of your makeup wipes, george carries willow into the bathroom, setting her on the counter. he gently wipes her face until all the makeup is gone and kisses her cheek.

while george is taking off willow's makeup, ivy tidies away your makeup and puts the bag back where she found it. she runs over to the bathroom when george calls her name and she proudly tells him she's tidied up.

"thank you poppet. how about we go get into pyjamas and watch tv until mummy comes home?" george suggests, earning eager nods from his girls.

he takes both their hands, getting them ready for bed before leading them to the living room where 'minions' is still playing. they all get comfortable on the sofa, the blanket draped over the three of them and ivy and willow curl into his side. evidently playing dress up tires them out, and they soon fall asleep, george not far behind.

when you come home from dinner with grace, that's how you find them, all sleeping on the sofa. george is now stretched out, arms wrapped protectively around willow and ivy. you take a quick photo and walk over, placing a kiss on his lips, causing him to wake up.

"hey sleepyhead, were they a handful?" you nod to your sleeping daughters.

"nothing i couldn't handle." george responds.

willow stirs at the sound of voices, her fluttering eyes open, "mummy?"

"hi baby, you have fun with daddy?" you whisper, leaning down to brush a strand of hair from her face.

she hums in response, eyes struggling to stay open. george sits up, careful not to wake ivy, who was still fast asleep, and you give him another kiss as a silent thank you for looking after them tonight.

"we should probably get them to bed." you suggest.

george nods, letting you pick willow up first before he lifts ivy into his arms. willow wraps her arms around your neck, leaning her head on your shoulder as you make your way to the girl's bedroom.

once they're both tucked in, you place a kiss on their foreheads and turn on the nightlight. you pull the door to, making sure to leave a gap like you do every night. turning around, you wrap your arms around george's waist and rest your head against his chest, hugging him tight.

"george, why do you have makeup all over your top?" you quietly giggle, tilting your head up to look at him.

"they were playing dress up. said they wanted to be pretty just like mummy. i thought i got all the makeup off." george mumbles, rubbing your back.

"aww, i hope you told them they don't need it. that they're the most beautiful girls in the world." you say softly.

"of course i did."

"good. now can we please go to bed?"

"absolutely."

a/n i can't stop thinking about girl dad george <333 i wasn't expecting to get so carried away with this but i did. anyway, hope you enjoyed it! i'm still working on requests but wanted to post something else for you guys while i work through them <3

hey!! i love the way you write for george it’s so cute - could i request something where the reader is good friends with max and they’re all at a social event and george meets her for the first time and he gets a huge crush on her (maybe some teasing from his housemates) and then maybe a bit about how the relationship develops

all good if not!!! ty ❤️❤️

of course lovely! here you go <3

by the time you and max arrive at george's housewarming party, the sounds of laughter and music filling the air are in full swing. max can sense your nerves, and reassures you quickly with a side hug before dragging you to get a drink.

it was only your first week in london, having recently just moved, after much convincing from max. you'd been close friends with him for years. he knows how nervous you were about making such a big move, so when george mentioned the party, max knew this was the perfect opportunity to introduce you to everyone and make you feel more welcome.

after being handed a drink, you're pulled over to where george and grace are currently bickering about a tiktok they saw. grace is the first to spot you both, getting up and giving max a hug before introducing herself.

"hi babe! you must be y/n," you nod, returning her hug, "max mentioned he was bringing someone. you want a drink?"

"uh, no i've just got one but thank you. let me know when you get another one and i'll join you though." you smile before she walks off.

"probably for the best, grace can't measure drinks for shit. i'm george by the way."

"i know," internally you cringe, not wanting to make yourself sound like a weird fan or stalker, "i mean because i watch the podcast, and max loves to talk about you."

max's jaw drops, and he playfully shoves your shoulder, "i do not!"

"yes, you do. don't lie."

as the night goes on and you gain confidence through the drinks you consume, you find yourself gravitating toward george. you'd been introduced to everyone, him having taken over from max at some point in the evening, wanting to spend as much time with you as possible despite only just meeting you.

chris and arthur, george's flatmates, notice the way his eyes follow you whenever you're talking to someone else or grabbing a drink, and decide to tease him.

"george," he gives a hum of acknowledgment, but his eyes never leave you, "you're staring."

"chris shut up. i'm not staring." he mumbles, quickly shifting his gaze to the phone in his hand.

it's a lie, of course he's staring. how could he not?

"so, you have a plan? or are you just gonna stare all night and hope that she'll magically become your girlfriend?" arthur teases making george roll his eyes.

ignoring the laughs from behind him, he walks over to where you and grace are and rests a hand on your lower back to gain your attention.

"hey, sorry to interrupt. can i steal you for a minute?"

"yea of course." you say, taking his hand as he leads you to somewhere more private.

his hands grow clammy as he closes his bedroom door and you notice how he won't meet your eye for longer than a couple of seconds at a time.

"george, are you okay?"

he shoves his hands in his pockets and finally meets your gaze, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves.

"sorry if this is too forward and i know we've just met but i was wondering if you'd wanna grab a drink some time? no pressure to say yes or anything."

the few seconds of silence are killing him before you nod your head with a grin on your face.

"i'd love to." you giggle and pull out your phone to get his number.

--------

the next few weeks you and george are barely apart, spending nearly every day together. his friends don't stop their teasing but he doesn't let it bother him. he's just happy with how well things are going.

the date had gone well, a local bar allowing you to get to know each other more in a relaxed environment. conversation between you both flowed easily, filling the space with laughter as you found out more about each other. it was evident by the end of the date that the feelings were mutual.

weeks turn into months, and everyone around you is glad you're both so happy and smitten with one another. george is constantly proving to be an incredible boyfriend, making sure you feel loved and appreciated, surprising you with random gifts or nights away.

one night, you're at george's flat for the weekly movie night that now happens. his arm is wrapped around your waist and you're curled into him, head on his shoulder.

"have we ever told you how thankful we are you adopted george as your rescue boyfriend?" arthur chuckles and george groans at the reminder of the infamous tweet, "means his whole personality can't be about being single."

"yea you've mentioned it once or twice," you laugh as george hides his face in your neck, blushing, "don't get embarrassed baby, you're my favourite rescue boyfriend."

his head shoots up and he cocks his eyebrow, "what do you mean your favourite? what other rescue boyfriends have you had?"

"never you mind, just watch the movie."

you push his head towards the tv but before you realise what's happening, george is mercilessly tickling you. a shriek of laughter escapes your lips.

"george! stop, i'm sorry!" you gasp, trying to pry his wrists away from your sides, but you're trapped underneath him.

watching the scene unfold in front of them, chris and arthur smile, feeling happy for george at him being so undoubtedly in love.

"okay, okay! i surrender! please stop!" your sides physically hurt from your uncontrollable laughing.

at last, george stops, gripping your hips instead and you're panting as you try to catch your breath.

"tell me i'm not a rescue boyfriend and that i'm actually the best boyfriend in the world." he demands, his voice a mix of mock sternness and affection.

"you're not a rescue boyfriend, you're actually the best boyfriend in the world. i love you." he dips his head, placing a kiss on your lips before you both sit up.

"i love you too." george repeats, letting you cuddle into his side again.

in your tickle fight, you both momentarily forget where you are until you hear arthur speak, "you two are so cute."

a look is shared between you and you both know there's nowhere else you'd rather be than in this moment.

Heyyy I was wondering if you could write a gc fic about y/n being on her period and she is having really bad cramps. George would defo be so nice and offer to cuddle and try to comfort her when she is in pain 😊😊

the way i’m literally on my period rn with the WORST pain ☹️

after 22 years on earth, she thought she'd have found a way to deal with the pain that her periods always caused. it's always the worst few days of her life whenever it comes and george absolutely hates seeing her in pain when he can't do much to help.

she's at her flat, not wanting to annoy the boys with her mood swings and breakdowns, curled on the sofa hugging a hot water bottle. a platform roulette video playing on the tv to try and distract her from the cramps, but to no avail, her discomfort making it difficult to concentrate on anything.

the sound of keys in the door makes her smile, knowing it's george since he has his own set, praying he’s brought chocolate. the smile widens when she sees a waitrose bag in his hand, confirming her hopes.

"hi baby, still feeling rotten?" he asks, handing her the bag with a kiss to her forehead, "cramps?"

"mhm, they're really bad today." she nods with a pout as george starts redoing her hot water bottle since it’s now cold, "thank you for coming over."

"it's okay darling, wanna look after you." he reassures, giving her a sympathetic smile while she watches what he's doing.

he gives her the new hot water bottle and she gets up, asking him to lie down so she can lay in between his legs. once they're both comfortable, she lets out a content sigh, feeling at ease for the first time all day. the tablets have finally kicked in, and combined with the hot water bottle and george's hands rubbing her stomach, the pain is subsiding.

"can you pass me the bag, please?" he picks it up off the floor, letting her grab the chocolate bar before placing it back down, "thank you, you're the best."

"yea, i know," she turns in his hold, giggling at him while eating a piece of chocolate, "it's my job to look after you. you know? as the world's best boyfriend 'n all."

playfully rolling her eyes, she stretches to give him a few quick kisses while his hands stroke her back in a relaxing manner. her cheek is now pressed against his chest, with the hot water bottle on her lower back and arms wrapped around his middle.

she turns and faces the back of the sofa while the tv continues to play in the background, its brightness harsh on her eyes in contrast to the darkness of her living room. george pulls the blanket off the back of the sofa to cover them both, his heartbeat beginning to lull her into some much-needed sleep.

"go to sleep sweetheart, promise i'll be here when you wake up." he whispers into her hair, stroking it out of her face.

"i love you." she mumbles into his shirt, pulling the blanket over her a bit more.

"i love you too."

a/n sorry it’s short, also not proofread <33

requests are open guys <33 also if anyone has sent in a request that hasn't been done please resend it as tumblr has been deleting them even though i've had a notification </3

shush, it's a secret | george clarke

it's not unusual for you to be over at george's flat considering you and him met at university and both moved to london around the same time. but about four months ago, your relationship changed from close friends to just that, a relationship.

you'd both decided to not tell anyone, despite how difficult it was proving to be to not be all over each other 24/7. the fans knew of you, to an extent. you'd appear in the backgrounds of videos or tiktoks posted by the boys. your social media was public, however, none of your accounts included your name, making it less likely for fans to find you.

tonight, you're over at the flat again, legs strewn over george's lap and eating some of the dominoes he'd ordered. a movie chris had picked out plays on the tv, but was now long forgotten about since a debate has broken out amongst the boys. over what? you don't know. you're too focused on the way george's hand is subconsciously trailing up your thigh, dangerously high for a 'close friend'. he honestly hasn't noticed that he's doing it, too engaged in the ongoing debate. so, you pick your phone up from your chest and message him.

too high x

his phone dings and he leans forward, grabbing it off the table before noticing it was from you. you watch as his brows furrow in confusion, before sending him another message.

your hand x

realisation hits george and he squeezes your thigh gently as an apology, moving his hand back down to rest above your knees. he mouths 'sorry' at you, to which you can't help but giggle and shake your head. arthur (hill) looks between you two in slight confusion, going to say something but deciding to keep his mouth shut.

it wasn't that you didn't want to tell people, you'd both just agreed it would be easier figuring things out and adjusting to this shift in dynamic without other people prying their noses in. it didn't make the thrill of getting caught any less exciting though. even the simple things such as him wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your shoulder made you get an adrenaline rush.

you can feel your eyes growing heavy, despite it still being relatively early, and decide to call it a night.

"sorry guys but i'm gonna head to bed," an echo of boos fill the room while you shrug, laughing, "i'm tired guys leave me alone. mind if i crash in your bed george?"

it feels weird having to ask your boyfriend if you can sleep in his bed, but it seems to be doing the trick of keeping the relationship a secret. there are only three bedrooms and you've known george the longest, so it makes sense you'd stay in his room.

"no go for it, i probably won't be long." you give him a smile and climb off the sofa, heading to his room.

george's eyes widen when he next checks the time, not realising it was so late.

"shit." he mumbles to himself, gaining a weird look from the boys.

"you alright george?" arthur (hill) questions.

"yea i'm fine. just didn't realise it was so late that's all, got stuff to do tomorrow. i'm gonna go to bed though, night guys." he was lying right through his teeth, he had nothing to do tomorrow.

what george had meant to be ten minutes or so had turned into an hour and a half. arthur (tv) ended up coming over and they'd gotten so caught up in conversation that time seemed to fly by. he knows that you hate falling asleep without him and feels guilt seep into his skin. especially since he knows you won't ask for him to come to bed, not wanting it to come off weird since to the others, you're 'just friends'.

you're staring at the ceiling when he shuts his bedroom door, having fallen asleep for all of twenty minutes before you woke up to an empty bed over an hour ago.

"i'm so sorry baby, i didn't realise it had been that long," you turn to look at him, enjoying the way he starts stroking your cheek with his thumb, "have you been waiting for me?"

"mhm, fell asleep for about twenty minutes and been awake since. it's okay though, kept myself busy," george's jaw drops slightly, clearly misunderstanding your words, "oh my god george, no! i meant by reading some more of my book you perv. get your mind out the gutter."

he laughs and goes in to kiss you but you push his forehead away before he can. you scrunch up your face in disgust.

"ow, what was that for?" he's rubbing his forehead like you just hit him with a bat, making it much more dramatic than necessary.

"brush your teeth, you have pizza breath." he tries to do it again and catch you off guard but fails, "i mean it george."

"yes ma'am."

he disappears into the bathroom and returns a few minutes later. his teeth are brushed and he's wearing a pair of grey joggers. your arms open wide, inviting him to lay on top of you so you can run your nails through his hair and up and down his back. a feeling both of you love.

"can i kiss you now?" he teases, grin widening when you nod your head.

several kisses are planted on your face and you know he's purposefully missing your lips. you frown, wanting him to kiss you properly, not having felt his lips on yours in what felt like years. realistically, it's been a few hours.

"george, kiss me properly." you whine.

and he does just that. one hand holding himself up to hover over you, the other stroking your cheek and bringing you in closer until your lips finally meet. the kiss starts off slow and loving, until he presses you further into the mattress, his hands beginning to roam your body. every ounce of sleep you were feeling disappears, suddenly becoming hyper aware of what's happening.

pulling away, you mumble, "we can't, everyone's here. they'll hear us."

"never stopped us before." george whispers against your mouth, connecting your lips once again.

well touché.

a/n don't ask where the inspiration for this came from at 2 in the morning cause i don't have an answer. not proofread either sorryyy. shall i make a part two? i feel like i'll end up doing it anyway but what do you guys think??

Hiiiiii ❤️❤️

Would you be up for writing any George Clarke fics about labour or birth???

here you go lovely <3

if you had to describe your labour in three words they would be long, painful and frustrating.

baby girl clarkey had clearly found your uterus an enjoyable place to live the past nine months. you were nine days overdue when your water broke and throughout labour, she seemed to be refusing to descend. in an attempt to lessen the pain and quicken the process, the midwife recommended a birthing ball. you nodded, hoping gravity would do its job. you were also grateful for anything that would provide you with some relief. george carefully guided you to sit on the ball since he wanted to be useful in any way he could. a tired smile was thrown his way and he felt like crying seeing how much pain you were in.

"i'm so incredibly proud of you my love. it won't be long till we get to meet our babygirl," he presses a lingering kiss to your forehead and moves behind you to redo your hair, "i hope she looks like you."

"why?" you questioned, sensing the start of yet another contraction.

"cause you're beautiful."

"you're so cheesy." george's jaw dropped, pretending to be offended.

he started massaging your back as you concentrated on breathing through another contraction. the midwife kept checking your progress and her heartbeat and after what seemed like days, she finally said the words you were so excited and yet so scared to hear.

"alright y/n, it's time to push. let's have this baby." you turned to look at george, a terrified expression on your face.

"baby, you can do this. everyone knows it." he gave you a reassuring smile.

the midwife and george went to help you up off the ball to the bed before you stopped them, "wait, i want george there. on the bed i mean. behind me."

in a matter of seconds, he was on the bed after getting the midwife's nod of approval and removing his shoes and jumper. before the need to push hit, you got comfortable, laying against george's chest. screaming, crying, and lots of encouraging words filled the next few minutes. you gripped george's hands tightly as each contraction came and pushed hard until the sound you had been waiting months to hear filled the room.

your beautiful baby girl's cry.

she was placed on your chest, and a rush of overwhelming love and relief flooded over you. tears filled your eyes as you took in every detail of her. her tiny fingers and toes. her nose which she definitely got from you. everything about her was perfect. george, who was also crying, kissed your shoulder and stroked his baby girl's cheek.

"she's so perfect," he whispered, "i'm so, so, so proud of you. i love you."

BONUS

(i was gonna just end it there but i wanted to include telling the boys so have this)

you were in love with her, and both of you were enjoying and starting to adjust to life as a family of three, even if it had only been a few hours. labour had exhausted you but you seemed too overwhelmed with emotions to be able to sleep. you also hadn't had time to since both your families had arrived, wanting to meet the newest addition and check up on you both.

"george?" he hummed in acknowledgment, still enamored with his baby girl.

"you wanna facetime chris and them lot?" his head popped up at the question, moving from the side of the cot to sit by you on the bed.

"you sure? i don't want it to be too much. and i was quite enjoying our baby bubble." he brushed a piece of hair from your face, scanning your face for any sort of hesitance.

"me too," you agreed, "but i think they'll notice something's off when you don't go to the flat to watch the match tonight."

"well, i was still gonna go," he had a cheeky smirk on his face, watching for your reaction, to which you raise your eyebrows, "i'm joking. yea okay, let's facetime them."

george grabbed his phone and face timed chris, knowing the rest of the group will already be there for the match. the phone rang for a few seconds before he answered.

"alright mate?" chris asked, before realising george wasn't on his way like he thought he would be, "where are you? we're all waiting for you."

"uh, i actually won't make it tonight. something's come up. who's there anyway?" shouts of disappointment came from the other end of the phone and you couldn't help but quietly laugh.

"literally everyone. mr television, mr hill, chip, will, cal. you know the rest, do i have to name everyone? it's the boys." george cringed at that, knowing chris only says it to wind him up.

"chris, just shut up. can you put the phone somewhere please, i need everyone to be able to see me," you both watched as the phone was placed on the table and everyone filtered into shot one by one, "also, can someone please record this on their camera if they have it with them?"

you grabbed george's hand, knowing he was nervous, and nodded at him as though to ask if he was ready since you could hear some of the boys asking what was going on. he passed the phone to you, earning more looks of confusion before chip spoke up.

"y/n, we love you but what's with the teasing. we have a game to watch." you rolled your eyes, feeling the bed dip from george having just brought over your baby girl.

you couldn't contain your smile, "we have a surprise." you turned the camera to george, who was cradling your daughter in his arms.

the other end of the phone was silent for a few moments before they erupted into cheers.

"will, you owe me fifty quid." cal cheered, turning to him with a hand out expectantly.

"hang on a minute, you guys were betting on when i'd give birth?" you gasped as they all nodded their heads.

"you were nine days past your due date y/n. it was only a matter of time." will confirmed, handing cal his money.

"congratulations though guys, she's gorgeous. does she have a name yet?" arthur tv asked, as they all quieted down waiting.

you glanced at george, who nodded, knowing you had your heart set on a name, "yea. this is isla."

questions came one after the other from the boys, but george knew you were tired and isla needed to be fed. dad mode was evidently activated.

"guys calm down. we'll answer the questions when we see you but for now, you have a match to watch and we have a baby to feed. we just wanted you to know she was here." you all said goodbye to each other before the call ended, allowing you to go back to your own little bubble.

"we did it." you whispered, staring at the tiny little girl who somehow looked even smaller in george's arms.

"we did."

Heyy x can we get some George fluff about him feeling the baby kick,i feel like this would be so cute 😭😭

this is so cute!

your pregnancy makes george the happiest man alive but also a nervous wreck, overanalysing every reaction you have or situation you're in.

you're both laying on the sofa when it first happens. your back against his chest, leaning against him while one of his hands rests on your small bump, the other on your thigh.

"and then becky- woah." your eyes widen as you feel what you think is a light kick, instantly grabbing george's hand.

"woah what? are you okay? what happened?"

"did you feel that? baby just kicked me i swear." as you start to lightly press on your bump, a grin spreads over george's face and he starts recording on his phone to save the milestone.

"oh my god, i wanna feel. let me talk to him," you raise your eyebrows at george, who keeps insisting baby clarke is a boy, even though neither of you know the gender, "hey baby, as much as i love mum i need you to kick her again for me please. just don't hurt her."

"wait that worked, i can feel them moving. put your hand here." a few seconds later, there's another kick right where george is applying pressure.

and another.

and another.

"you've really woken up now huh?" you laugh at the comment and george rests his chin on your shoulder, repeatedly pressing light kisses across it, "this is mental."

"i know, i'm so excited to meet you sweetheart," you continue rubbing your bump and turn your head to look at george, "i love you george."

"i love you too darling."

and now ever since the baby kicked, george insists he has to have his hands on your bump whenever you're around, just in case they kick again.

Hi! Not a request but I got excited cos we seem to have f1 and Clarkey in common so I wanted to reach out👋🏼😊

hiiii!! i love them both so much! can’t belive lando finally won a race 🫶🏼🤭

Please can we get some george fluff/smut??

of course, sorry it's taken so long <3

work was killing you. the hours, the workload, it was all becoming too much and you felt like you hadn't seen george in weeks. so when you got to his apartment and kicked off your shoes, appreciating the feeling of carpet under your feet, you knew you just needed george.

it was unusually quiet, the sound of laughter and the boy's voices being absent. instead, you were met with an empty kitchen and living room, so you headed to his room, figuring he'd probably be at his desk editing.

which is exactly where he was.

"george?" you said softly, catching his attention as he turned his head, taking off his headphones.

"hey, how was work?" the question was simple enough, but it made you want to cry.

"it was awful george. it was such a long day. i just wanted to come and see you. missed you so much." tears were threatening to fall and george was quick to stand up and wrap his arms protectively around you, kissing the top of your head.

"i'm sorry you had such a bad day darling, can i do anything to make it better?" george asked, deciding to leave the editing until tomorrow and focus completely on you.

"i'm gonna go shower. join me?" you replied, and by your tone of voice and the tiredness evident on your face, he knew it wouldn't be that kind of shower, but he didn't care.

"of course, i'll wash your hair if you want?" george suggested.

giving him a nod in response and a quick peck on his lips, you made your way to his bathroom and started the shower, the hot water instantly relaxing your muscles as soon as you got in.

george joined a few minutes later, pulling you into him and letting you rest your weight against him while he ran his fingers up and down your back. the silence between you both was more than welcomed, a stark contrast to the constant noise and arguments you'd dealt with all day.

"you okay?" he whispered when you rested your chin on his chest, staring up him with a soft smile on your lips.

"thank you," george furrowed his brows in confusion, not knowing what you were thanking him for, "thank you for always knowing what to say to make me feel better and dropping whatever you're doing to make sure i'm okay. i really don't deserve you. i love you."

the way those last three words slipped off your tongue so easily made george's heartbeat speed up.

the ones he'd never felt the need to say to anyone other than his family and close friends.

the ones that neither of you had said to each other yet.

the ones that he'd wanted to tell you for so long.

"george?"

he hummed in acknowledgment as he stared back at you, needing to process your words.

"if you don't want to say it back yet that's fine. i don't want you to say it just because i did. but i wanted you to know that i do. i love you." you grew nervous from his silence, going to unwrap your arms from around him and get on with your shower, but he only tightened his arms around you and captured your lips in a kiss.

"you have no idea how long i've wanted to tell you that i love you y/n." he said as he swore to himself he was never going to forget this moment, smile never once leaving his face.

relief flooded over you, your nerves disappearing as you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

"why didn't you?"

"i was scared," george admitted, "it sounds stupid i know. but i think it's because i've not been in a serious enough relationship where i felt the need to tell someone i love them. with you i felt something was different. and i was right. i love you."

"i love you too george clarke."

a/n hope you enjoyed this! i went with fluff cause i'm hopefully going to post some smut in the next few days <3 (i didn't really know how to end this, sorryyyy)

Hi! Pleeeeease can we get some soft george smut? Xx

oh absolutely lovely <333

"i need you," the words were mumbled against george's lips almost as soon as he walked into the flat, "please."

just those words had him turned on. which is how he'd found himself in this position; you straddling him, fingers tangled in his hair. not that he minded. it hadn't even taken half an hour since he'd stepped through the door for you to get him into bed.

"george." you whined, needing something more.

"yea?" he teased, fingers rubbing soft circles on your waist under your shirt, a knowing smirk plastered on his face, "what is it my love?"

"please. i missed you." you pouted at him as he kissed your lips.

your hands that were in his hair moved to the shirt you were wearing and pulled it over your head, your naked chest now on full display.

george couldn't help but stare, or as he'd put it, admire. he could never get enough of you, and he made sure you knew it every time; always taking his time with you and making you feel special.

"so pretty." he groaned, hands moving up to cup your breasts, softly massaging them and rubbing his thumb over your nipples.

several hickeys were marked onto your breasts and collarbones and it was good, but it wasn't enough. so you decided to take matters into your own hands and rid yourself of your shorts, george watching your every move.

you got yourself comfortable on the bed and spread your legs, showing him just how how needy you were. a wet patch was visible on your underwear, having been turned on for way too long.

he bit his lip, hands moving up your legs until they reached your underwear, fingertips ghosting over your clit. "need me that bad huh?"

"so bad baby." you pleaded.

george gently circled your clit over your underwear a few more times before he hooked his thumbs into the waistband and pulled them down your legs. a gasp left your lips when his fingers ran through your folds, collecting your wetness and teasing your entrance.

"so wet for me. want my fingers baby?" you nodded your head, desperate to feel them inside you.

two fingers slipped inside you with ease and you cried out, the feeling almost overwhelming already. he moved up your body, hovering over you, pressing his lips against yours with a sense of urgency to try and muffle your moans, not knowing who was home.

"want you to cum on my fingers." he whispered in your ear and placed a soft kiss underneath it.

his fingers sped up, curling to hit the perfect spot inside you, thumb attaching to your clit once again. your breathing quickened and your back arched into his chest, feeling like your whole body was on fire.

"i'm gonna cum george. fuck." but he already knew, from the way you clenched around his fingers to the way your breathing sped up, he knew.

the coil in your stomach snapped and you choked out a moan and a cry of his name, george not even bothering to try and silence you.

as you calmed down, you were met with george grinning wide at you, trying to contain his laughter.

"what?" you breathed out, still struggling to catch your breath.

"you're loud." he chuckled.

"oh shut up," you covered your face with your hands, growing embarrassed, "don't laugh at me or i won't let you fuck me."

george has never shut up so fast in his life.

a/n i rewrote this so many times, i hope it’s okay for you lovely!! <3