you loved your boyfriend. he was it for you. and not in the fleeting, butterfly way. not a crush that faded when things got difficult. no—he was the one you could scream at and argue with and then fall asleep tangled in the same sheet an hour later. the one who knew exactly how you liked your tea, exactly how to get under your skin, and exactly how to worship every inch of your body like it was the only language he spoke.
and oh, my god. he was the best sex you'd ever had. hands down. absolutely zero contest. you’d look at him and think he was very vanilla, but the way he fucked you? slow, deep, possesive—like he was trying to carve his name into your bones and remind you exactly who you belonged to. it made you feral.
so when he asked you—on camera, during a truth or drink sidemen video, the prick—“have you ever faked an orgasm with me?” and you didn’t say no like he expected you to… you picked up your shot of tequila, knocked it back, and put the glass down like you were putting a final nail in a coffin.
trust, he was good at pleasing you. the things he could do with his tongue... jesus. the man was skilled. it was just that one time. to be honest, it wasn't even his fault. you were just tired, your head wasn't in it, and you just didn't want him to feel bad. so, you faked a few shaky breaths, moaned out his name, and smiled through the guilt. and that was it. one time. forgotten.
"it was just that one time—i wasn't in the mood, y'know? stop laughing, jj." you tried to surpress your giggles because of the look on harry's face.
you thought that was the end of it. one shot. one simple, honest answer. the boys were already laughing and moving on—ethan reading the next question with a shit-eating grin, jj still laughing like he usually did.
but harry?
harry was staring. he didn't laugh. didn't even crack a smile. he sat back, eyebrows slightly raised, lips twitching like he was trying to solve a maths problem. his whole expression unreadable. way too quiet for harry.
the rest of the video felt long. every time he laughed, every time he smiled or chimed in, you could feel the weight of his attention still hanging off you. he didn’t say much after that, just finished the game with a casual shrug, fingers drumming on the table.
the car ride.
it was so fucking quiet. not in an awkward way. no tension between you as people—you were fine. it was fine.
but it was so quiet.
harry's eyes were on the road, hand steady on the wheel. the only sounds were the low hum of the engine, and the occasional turn signal.
but you could feel him.
feel his gaze flicker over to you at red lights. feel the way his fingers tapped restlessly against the steering wheel. feel the heat simmering between you, hotter by the second.
so, you broke the silence. "what's going on in that pretty head of yours, hm? you're awfully quiet."
his knuckles tightened on the wheel. "hm? nothing. just... thinking."
"about what?" you turned your knees slightly towards him, now looking at his absolutely flawless side profile.
"you know what." his jaw clenched, a small smirk on his face.
you rolled your eyes. "haz, you're still on that? it was just a game. i don't even remember when it happ—"
he didn't look at you. "i'm just trying to figure out how i missed it."
"babe, come on. it was years ago, harry. you didn't do anything wrong. it wasn't about you. i swear." you laughed, reaching over to rub his knee as reassurement.
he looked down, and then up again. after a few moments of silence, he spoke, his voice lower. "i don't want you to feel like you have to perform with me."
"baby. it was one time. it's so insignificant that i don't even remember when it happened." you leaned over and brushed a soft kiss on his cheek.
after you reached home.
the front door clicked shut behind you with a soft thud, and that was it. the match dropped.
he didn’t speak. just watched as you kicked off your shoes and turned toward him, still trying to act normal—casual—like your heart wasn’t hammering in your chest.
you opened your mouth to say something—
but he was on you.
mouth crashing to yours, hands gripping your waist hard enough to bruise. you stumbled back into the wall with a thud, gasping against his lips, his body crowding yours, warm and solid and desperate.
"fuckin' hell, y/n," he muttered against your mouth, kissing you like he was trying to devour your soul. "i'm losing my fucking mind."
“didn’t think you’d spiral this hard,” you breathed.
his hand curled around your jaw, thumb dragging across your bottom lip. "i’ve been replaying every sound you’ve made with me in my head. every fucking moan. every breath. trying to figure out which one was a lie.” his voice dropped. “you realise how mental that is?”
you swallowed, chest rising and falling fast.
he tilted your chin up. “so now i’m gonna make sure there’s no confusion.”
before you could even react, his hands reached the back of your thighs, and he picked you up in a go. a gasp slipped from your lips as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, the pressure of his hard-on pressing firmly against your core through the thin barrier of your clothes. the contact drew a soft whimper from your throat—needy and unfiltered.
harry smirked against your skin. "that all for me, love?" he murmured, his voice rough as his mouth found your neck for the millionth time.
you just whined in response and grabbed his hair, latching your lips onto his again. he chuckled lowly, and carried you to the bedroom door, throwing it open.
he kicked the door shut behind him with a thud that echoed, not that either of you noticed—too lost in the haze of each other, barely making it two steps before tossing you onto the mattress like you weighed nothing. you bounced once, breath catching as you pushed yourself up on your elbows.
he climbed on top of you, hovering for a moment as he tried to take in your presence, his fingers trailing under the hem of your top.
that's it. you couldn't take it anymore.
"goddamn it, harry." you surged up and yanked his shirt over his head in one go, fingers fumbling in your haste, lips catching his halfway through. it was teeth and tongue and heat, and all of it tinged with frustration.
"a little bit impatient there, huh?" he laughed as he tugged your top over your head and tossed it somewhere behind him, already reaching for your jeans.
“can you blame me?” you huffed, breath shaky as you wriggled out of them, your hands everywhere—his neck, his shoulders, everywhere. "you've been staring at me with bedroom eyes all day long, bruv."
harry laughed under his breath—low and rough—as he popped the button of your jeans and slid them down—along with your underwear— in one swift movement, eyes trailing down the length of you like he hadn’t seen you naked a thousand times before.
you bit your lip, cheeks flushed, eyes flickering down for a moment before dragging back up to meet his. your hands moved slowly to his belt, fingers slipping beneath the leather and tugging with careful urgency—like you couldn’t bear another second but also wanted to savour it.
you pulled it free in one smooth motion, letting it drop off the side of the bed with a soft thud. your fingers didn’t falter—next came the button of his jeans, the slow drag of the zip. you felt him twitch beneath your touch, felt the tension ripple through his abdomen.
“you’re killing me, babe,” he muttered, voice low, reverent, as he watched your hands work.
“good,” you whispered, slipping your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and sliding everything down in one go. he kicked them off without looking, never taking his eyes off you.
there he was: all of him, exposed to you, his cock thick and flushed, already dripping with need. your breath hitched in your throat, eyes tracing over every inch of him. the way his muscles tightened under his skin, the deep v of his hips leading to his hard length. It was almost too much.
you reached out, wrapping your fingers around his cock, feeling the heat of him in your hand. you could feel the veins throbbing beneath your touch, his length heavy and solid in your palm. "please fuck me," you whimpered.
he let out a ragged breath, his hands immediately grabbing at your legs, pulling you to him as he knelt between your thighs. and just like that, he leaned forward, pushing your legs apart as he aligned himself with your entrance. his eyes flickered to yours, a silent question. you nodded, breathless, barely able to form a sentence.
harry didn’t need another word. he sank into you in one deliberate thrust, his cock filling you, stretching you in the best possible way. you gasped at the sensation, your back arching off the bed, and he groaned in response, his hand sliding to your hip to hold you in place.
jesus, even after years of being together, you were still caught off guard by his size every single time. “god,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, as he stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust to him. “you feel fucking perfect.”
harry didn’t waste another moment. he withdrew slightly, then slammed back into you with force, making you gasp as your body jolted from the impact. his pace was immediate, fast, relentless—he wasn’t holding back. every thrust sent waves of pleasure through you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.
you moaned out his name as your hands scrambled for purchase on his back, digging your nails into his skin. you gasped as you tried to meet each of his thrusts, your body working in perfect sync with his. there was no gentleness in this; there didn’t need to be. after all these years, neither of you held back anymore.
he gripped your legs tighter, pushing them up and apart to get even deeper, his hips snapping against yours with brutal force. every thrust hit you at the perfect angle, his cock filling you so completely that you could barely breathe. "oh my god, harry!"
you gasped, hips bucking as the familiar pressure started to build again in your core. the pace didn’t slow—if anything, harry pushed harder, faster, making sure you didn’t have time to catch your breath. his hands were everywhere—on your hips, your chest, your throat—as he fucked you like he owned you.
you felt your orgasm rise up, sudden and overwhelming. the sensation spread through every inch of you, every nerve firing at once as you came hard around him, screaming his name as you tightened around his cock. your whole body trembled, the force of it making your vision blur for a moment.
but harry didn’t stop. he was relentless, chasing his own high now, his pace never wavering as he fucked you through your orgasm. the tension was unbearable, and just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he thrust into you with a final, deep stroke, groaning your name as he came hard inside you, his release spilling deep, filling you completely.
you both collapsed in the aftershocks of your highs, your body limp and trembling beneath him, as he kissed your neck, his breath ragged.
"oh my god," you heaved, recovering from your orgasm.
"oh love, we're not done."
requested by @ihaveaspoon "Hi! I was wondering if you could write something for Smosh. The reader is new to the company either production or smoffice. They're incredibly organized and have everything planned out (not in a mean way) and Damien accidentally lets it slip how hot and horny he finds it. Thank you!"
imagine damien haas thinking that it's hot that you're organized
“y/n is the most organized person in this office for sure,” shayne said one day in conversation. “have you seen her spreadsheets?! everything is down to the minute! when i stopped in her office a week ago, she had even built in 10 minutes in her schedule that just said “for whoever comes into my office to talk”.” the group around them laughed out, including damien.
damien hadn't known this about you, but he liked learning it. it was cool that you were so organized.
"hey, y/n!" angela called into your open office one day when she and damien walked past.
your gaze remained locked to your computer as you raised a finger, pointing to your door without looking up. "with love."
they looked to your door and saw that you had printed and posted a spreadsheet with the day's date on it. under two o'clock it read "catching up on emails".
"damn," damien muttered as him and angela scanned the sheet. the rest of the schedule was full of other business until the end of the day.
it was admirable, really, the way you had it all laid out. it made damien feel a way he couldn't really define, until he looked over to your concentrated face. you had your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, brow slightly furrowed as you typed furiously as if you had already tuned out their presence. and for some reason, it was incredibly hot. without thinking he spoke, "when are you gonna schedule me into your day?"
your gaze finally broke from your computer, looking up at him in an unamused way that only made you more attractive. angela laughed beside him, but he barely heard it over his blood rushing in his ears.
"get back to me when you have something more urgent, damien," you offered with tease in your tone, your gaze still searing into his for another moment before turning back to your computer. damien managed a deep chuckle instead of the choke he thought was going to fall from his lips. angela laughed with him, apparently none-the-wiser to his mental breakdown. it took a second for him to remember how to move his legs as angela started to walk off, his gaze lingering.
"she's serious," angela snorted.
"yeah," damien offered weakly, still dazed. he didn't think he'd get the look you gave him out of his head for days.
Yet, lying in George Clarkey’s bed, tucked under his sheets, skin still warm from his touch, you feel the weight of his arm draped over your waist. You know this is a disaster waiting to happen. But at this point, it’s almost tradition.
A night out turns into tipsy flirting. Flirting turns into one of you cracking first and texting where u at? And before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re tangled up in him, his hands gripping your waist, his mouth pressing hot, lazy kisses against your neck, and the world shrinking to just you and him. The way his mouth moved against your skin, the way his hands gripped your body—it always felt like an electric current between you.
This had been going on for months now—longer than you ever expected. What started as a drunken mistake had turned into a routine. Nights out ended with you texting him, or him texting you, or one of you finding an excuse to be at the same place at the same time, until you ended up here. Sweaty, satisfied, and entirely too comfortable in his bed.
It was just sex. Really good sex. That’s all.
But it couldn't be more complicated.
For one, George Clarkey was one of your brother's closest mates.
And Max had made it painfully clear that dating YouTubers was off the table.
"They’re all walking red flags, babe," Max had said once, waving his hands for emphasis. "All of them. You’d just become another London Content Creator’s Girlfriend, and I won’t be having that."
Not that you and George were dating.
You were just… shagging George Clarke in secret.
And maybe that was worse.
But that was the key difference—the thing that made this somewhat okay.
You weren’t a couple. You weren’t sneaking around because of some grand forbidden romance.
You were just fucking.
And it was casual.
Totally.
Absolutely.
…Okay, maybe there were some complications.
Like the fact that George could be an oblivious idiot at times and that you were slowly falling for him.
As you turn your head on the pillow, watching George lazily stretch in front of you, his hair a messy tangle on the pillows, you can't help but admire how good he looks even after just waking up. He catches you staring and a smirk tugs at his lips.
"You're thinking too much," he says in a rough, sleep-filled voice, and when you glance over again he’s watching you through lidded eyes, his dark hair sticking up in every direction.
You scoff, turning onto your side. “I’m thinking about how screwed we’ll be if Max ever finds out about this.”
George smirks, his grin only grows wider as he pulls you closer until you’re pressed against his chest, his warm skin against yours sending shivers down your spine. “Then we just don’t let him find out.”
You let out a resigned sigh. "Easy for you to say. You don't have to live with him."
George chuckles, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder, and fuck—that should not feel as nice as it does.
“Relax,” he murmurs against your skin. “We’re being careful.”
You want to believe him, but a nagging doubt persists. "Are we though? Being careful?"
George's fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Course we are. Max hasn't got a clue, has he?"
You bite your lip, remembering all the close calls. The time Max almost walked in on you two in the kitchen. The suspicious glances when you laughed too hard at George's jokes. The way your cheeks flushed whenever he was mentioned.
"I don't know," you mumble. "Sometimes I think he suspects something."
George's hand stills on your waist. "You worried?"
You turn to face him, studying the lines of his face in the dim light. His blue eyes are soft, filled with concern. You hate how much you like looking at him.
"Maybe a little," you admit. "It's just... Max has always been so protective. And he's made it clear how he feels about his friends dating his sister."
George's lips quirk into a half-smile. "Good thing we're not dating then, eh?"
You roll your eyes, but can't help smiling back. "Right. Just fucking."
"Exactly," George says, pulling you closer. "Nothing to worry about."
But as he kisses you, slow and deep, you can't shake the feeling that this is far more complicated than either of you want to admit.
Weeks pass, and your "arrangement" with George continues. The sneaking around gets easier, the guilt less noticeable. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.
But then there are nights when you catch yourself staring at him too long. When your fingers linger in his hair, when you laugh too hard at his jokes, when his hands slip under your hoodie, and you realize—this doesn’t feel casual anymore.
You don’t just look forward to those stolen moments—you need them. You tell yourself it’s about the thrill, the secrecy, the rush of slipping out of Max’s flat unnoticed. But the truth is, you like waking up in his sheets. You like the way he pulls you back into bed, groaning that it’s too early. You like how he makes you tea in the morning, knowing exactly how you take it, without needing to ask.
And suddenly, the thought of this ending makes your stomach twist.
You should say something. You should ask him if he feels it too.
But you don’t.
Because once you say it out loud, you can’t brush it off anymore.
If you admit it, you can’t take it back.
And you’re not sure if you’re ready for that.
One night, after a particularly wild party at some private club celebrating another one of the Sidemen’s achievements, you end up with a group of friends back at George‘s. The bass from the music downstairs thrums through the walls as George presses you against the door, his lips hot on your neck.
"We shouldn't," you gasp, even as your fingers tangle in his hair. "Someone could come up..."
George grins against your skin. "That's half the fun, innit?"
You're about to retort when the door handle rattles. Your heart leaps into your throat as you hear a familiar voice on the other side.
"George! You in there?"
It's Max.
You freeze, panic flooding your system. George's eyes widen, but he quickly springs into action. He shoves you towards his closet, motioning for you to hide. You slip inside just as George opens the door.
"Yeah, mate. What's up?" George's voice is impressively casual.
"Have you seen my sister? Can't find her anywhere."
You hold your breath, praying Max doesn't decide to search the room.
"Nah, sorry. Maybe she went home early."
There's a pause, and you can picture Max's suspicious frown. Your heart pounds as you listen to the conversation through the closet door. You can practically feel Max's suspicion radiating through the wood.
"Right," Max says slowly. "Well, if you do see her, tell her I'm looking for her."
"Course, mate," George replies smoothly. "I'll let her know if I spot her."
You hear the door close and let out a shaky breath. A moment later, the closet door opens and George's face appears, a mix of amusement and concern in his eyes.
"Coast is clear," he whispers, helping you out.
You stumble slightly, the adrenaline making you unsteady. George's hands catch your waist, steadying you. The touch sends a familiar spark through your body, but the fear of almost being caught overshadows it.
"That was too close," you mutter, running a hand through your hair.
George nods, his expression sobering. "Maybe we should call it a night. I'll sneak you out the back."
You agree, and with George's help, manage to slip out of the house unnoticed. As you make your way home, you can't shake the feeling that your luck is running out.
The next few weeks are tense. You find yourself jumping at every sound, convinced that Max is about to burst in and catch you in the act. George notices your unease and suggests taking a break, but the thought of not seeing him makes your chest ache in a way you're not ready to confront.
As autumn creeps in, painting London in shades of gold and crimson, you find yourself spending more time at George's flat. The cozy nights in, wrapped in blankets and each other's arms, start to feel dangerously domestic. You catch yourself imagining a future where you don't have to hide, where you can walk hand-in-hand with George down the street without fear of being spotted.
One chilly evening, as you're curled up on George's sofa watching a movie, the weight of the secret becomes too much.
"George," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I think we need to tell Max soon."
He turns to you, surprise etched on his features. "You sure? I thought we agreed to keep this under wraps."
You nod, twisting your fingers nervously. "I know, but... I'm tired of sneaking around. And honestly, I'm starting to think that this might be more than just casual."
George's expression softens, and he pulls you closer. "Yeah," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I've been thinking the same thing."
-------------
It wasn’t meant to happen like this.
but apparently, George is an idiot.
The tension in the air was palpable as you walked into your shared flat to find Max holding George's hoodie like a piece of evidence at a crime scene. His eyes narrowed as he asked, "Why is this in our flat?" Your heart raced as you tried to play off the situation nonchalantly. "Maybe George left it here," you suggested with a shrug.
Max's gaze flicked between you and the hoodie. "In your room?"
Your throat tightened as you replied, "Maybe."
Max's mind worked like a detective on a true crime documentary at that moment, piecing together the puzzle before him. And then, his expression changed from confusion to horror, his jaw-dropping.
"You're shagging George," he exclaimed.
You winced and tried to downplay the situation. "Max—"
"YOU'RE SHAGGING GEORGE," he repeated, his voice growing louder.
Frustration and embarrassment washed over you as you dropped your head into your hands. "For fuck's sake, can you not say it like that?"
But Max was already caught up in the drama of it all, looking around wildly like he was in an episode of punked. "How long has this been going on? When did this start? Why am I just finding out now?!"
You shifted uncomfortably. "Uh...a while?"
"A while?!" Max's disbelief was evident.
"...A few months?" You offered weakly.
"MONTHS?!" Max couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"It's not a big deal!" you insisted.
"Not a big deal?! You’re shagging my mate!" Max's frustration reached its boiling point.
You flinched and pleaded with him to lower his voice, but he continued to express his disbelief that this was happening behind his back. In a desperate attempt to calm him down and protect your relationship with George, you blurted out, "It's nothing serious! We're just...having fun. Casual."
Max blinked in surprise. "Casual? With George?"
You nodded, trying to defend yourself. "Yes?"
"With George?"
"Yes, Max!" you exclaimed in frustration.
Max's expression shifted as he absorbed the information and then whipped out his phone.
"What are you doing?" you asked nervously.
"Texting George," he replied, his thumbs flying across the screen. "He has five seconds to explain himself before I track him down and make him piss himself."
Before you could stop him, George walked into the flat at that exact moment.
Perfect timing, you thought sarcastically.
George froze upon seeing the tension between you and Max. His eyes flicked from you to his hoodie in Max's hands, and it was clear he knew exactly what was going on, it doesn't take a genius to figure that out.
"...Shit," he muttered under his breath.
"So it's true!" Max shouted. "You absolute little—"
But before he could finish his sentence, George raised his hands like a hostage negotiator. "Alright, before you get mad—"
"I'M NOT MAD!" Max yelled, which only confirmed how mad he actually was. "I'M JUST CURIOUS AS TO WHY YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA?"
Max paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair in frustration. "I can't believe this. My best mate and my sister. It's like a bloody soap opera!"
You and George exchanged nervous glances as Max continued his tirade.
"How long has this been actually going on? And don't lie to me!" Max demanded, his eyes narrowing as he looked between the two of you.
George cleared his throat. "About... six months?"
"Six months?!" Max's voice rose an octave. "You've been sneaking around behind my back for half a year?!"
You winced. "We didn't mean for it to go on this long. It just... happened."
Max let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, it just happened, did it? What, you tripped and fell onto his dick?"
"Max!" you exclaimed, scandalized.
George stepped forward, his hands raised placatingly. "Look, mate, I know this isn't ideal—"
"Ideal?!" Max interrupted. "This is the opposite of ideal! This is a bloody nightmare!"
He turned to you, his expression a mix of hurt and betrayal. "And you. I warned you about getting involved with YouTubers. I told you they were all walking red flags!"
You felt a surge of defiance. "George isn't like that. He's different."
Max scoffed. "That's what they all say. And then next thing you know, you're just left high and dry”
"It's not like that," George interjected, his voice firm. "This isn't just some fling."
Max's eyes widened as he looked between you and George. "What are you saying?"
You took a deep breath, reaching for George's hand. "We didn't mean for this to happen, Max. But... it's more than just casual now."
George squeezed your hand, a small smile on his face. "We care about each other. A lot."
Max stares at you both, jaw clenched so tight you think he might actually crack a tooth. His fingers twitch at his sides, like he’s debating whether to pace, punch something, or just scream into the void.
Finally, he exhales a sharp breath and rakes a hand through his hair, pacing a tight circle before stopping in front of George. His glare could burn a hole straight through him.
"You," he says, voice tight. "You, out of all people."
George swallows, standing his ground. "Look, mate—"
"Don’t 'mate' me," Max cuts him off, shaking his head. He lets out a humorless laugh, but there's no amusement in his eyes. "This is actually happening. You—" he jabs a finger at George's chest, then turns to you, scandalized. "And you?!"
You don’t answer. What could you possibly say? Sorry I broke your one rule? Sorry I fell into bed with your best mate and accidentally started catching feelings?
Max lets out another deep, exhausted sigh, dragging a hand down his face. "I can’t believe I’m saying this, but—" He levels George with a look so sharp it could cut glass. "You actually give a shit about her?"
George doesn't hesitate. "Of course I do."
Max narrows his eyes, searching George’s face like he’s waiting for him to blink, to crack, to say something stupid that will give him an excuse to deck him. But George holds his gaze, unwavering.
After a long beat, Max scoffs, shaking his head. "Fuck me."
He turns away, pacing again, muttering something under his breath. You barely catch the words "This is my villain origin story."
Finally, he stops, pinches the bridge of his nose, and points a finger directly at George.
For a long moment, silence filled the room. You could practically see the gears turning in Max's head as he processed this new information. Finally, he looked up at you both, his expression resigned.
"You're serious about this? Both of you?"
You and George nodded solemnly. "We are," you said softly.
Max sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "I can't believe this is happening. My best mate and my little sister. It's like some bad rom-com."
He stood up suddenly, pointing an accusatory finger at George. "If this is just some game to you, Clarke, I swear to God—"
"It's not," George interrupted, his voice firm. "I care about her, Max. More than I've cared about anyone in a long time."
You felt your heart flutter at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest.
Max's gaze softened slightly as he looked between the two of you. He could see the genuine affection in your eyes, the way you unconsciously leaned towards each other.
"Fine," he said finally, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I can see this isn't just some fling. But I swear, George, if you hurt her—"
"I won't," George assured him quickly.
Max continued as if George hadn’t spoken. "—I will end you, I will make your life a living hell. I will start beef with you publicly. I will make a YouTube exposé, I will get you cancelled on Twitter. I will make sure your brand deals drop like flies. I will be so fucking annoying that you will never know peace again."
George nodded solemnly, as if this was a completely resonable response " Understood."
Max turned to you, his expression softening. "And you. You're sure about this? You know what you're getting into, dating a YouTuber?"
You smile softly at Max, touched by his concern despite his outburst. "I'm sure, Max. I know it won't be easy, but hes worth it."
Max groans dramatically, flopping back onto the sofa. "I can't believe this is my life now. My best mate and my sister. What's next, Mum dating KSI?"
You and George both choke back laughter at the mental image. The tension in the room eases slightly as Max's dramatics break through the awkwardness.
George chuckled nervously. "Does this mean we have your blessing?"
Max shot him a withering glare. "Blessing? Don't push it, mate. I'm still processing the fact that you've been sneaking around with my sister for months."
You winced. "We really are sorry about that, Max. We didn't mean for it to go on so long without telling you."
Max ran a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. "I just... I don't understand how this even happened. When did you two start... you know?"
You and George exchanged glances, silently debating how much to reveal. Finally, you took a deep breath and launched into the story.
"It started at Cal's birthday party," you began. "We were both a bit drunk, and one thing led to another..."
Max groaned. "Please spare me the details."
You rolled your eyes. "Nothing happened that night. But after that, we kept running into each other at events and parties. We'd flirt, maybe share a dance or two. It was harmless at first." As you speak, Max's expression cycles through disbelief, anger, and grudging amusement.
"...and then we just kept finding excuses to see each other," you finish lamely. "We didn't mean for it to become anything serious, but..."
"But it did," George adds softly, squeezing your hand.
Max groans, flopping back dramatically on the sofa. Muttering something about how this wasn’t how his day was supposed to go.
He sits up suddenly, pointing an accusing finger at George. "And you! What about all those girls you're always banging on about in your videos? That better all be a lie?"
George has the decency to look sheepish. "Ah, well... might've exaggerated a bit there, mate. For content, you know”
Max's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Exaggerated? Or flat-out lied?"
George shifted uncomfortably. "Well..."
You jumped in, trying to diffuse the tension. "Look, Max, the point is, George and I are together now. For real. No more sneaking around or lying."
Max sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes. "I still can't believe this.” He stood up suddenly, pacing the room. "And what about when this all goes public, eh? Have you two geniuses thought about that? The fans will go mental. You'll be harassed non-stop."
You and George exchanged glances. It was clear neither of you had given much thought to the public aspect of your relationship.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," George said finally. "For now, we just want to focus on us. And making sure you're okay with this."
Max scoffed. "Okay with it? I'm far from okay with it. But..." he trailed off, looking between you and George. Despite his anger, he could see the genuine affection in your eyes, the way you instinctively leaned towards each other.
Then, after a beat—reluctantly, begrudgingly, like it physically pains him to say it— " I mean, I'd rather you weren't shagging one of my mates, but honestly?" He turned to George with a knowing look. "You could've picked worse. At least I know George. Even if he is an idiot sometimes."
George protested, but there was no real heat behind it. He knew Max was right - he could be an idiot sometimes. But when it came to you, he was determined to do better.
Relief washed over you as you threw your arms around your brother. "Thank you, Max. Really."
He hugged you back, then pulled away to point a finger at George. "And you. No funny business when I'm around, got it? I don't need to see my best mate snogging my sister."
George nodded solemnly, though you could see the mischief dancing in his eyes. "Wouldn't dream of it, mate."
Max gives him one last death glare before sighing dramatically and turning back to you. “I hate this. I hate it. I swear, if I ever walk in on anything, I'm moving out and never speaking to either of you again."
You laughed "Deal."
You and George share a glance, and suddenly, it doesn't feel as scary anymore. The weight that had been pressing on your chest for months lifts, replaced by a giddy lightness. You can't help the smile that spreads across your face, mirrored on George's.
As Max continues to grumble and mutter about the unfairness of it all, you and George gravitate towards each other. His arm slips around your waist, pulling you close, and you lean into him, reveling in the feeling of finally being able to do this openly.
The autumn sun streams through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. Outside, you can hear the bustle of London life - cars honking, people chattering, the distant rumble of the Tube. But in here, in this moment, the world has shrunk to just the three of you.
George's thumb traces lazy circles on your hip, sending shivers down your spine. You breathe in his familiar scent - a mix of cologne, laundry detergent, and something uniquely him. It's comforting, and grounding.
Max catches sight of you cuddling and makes exaggerated gagging noises. "Oh God, it's starting already. I'm going to need therapy after this."
You and George laugh, the sound mingling together in a way that makes your heart skip. You realize that this is the first time you've been able to laugh freely together in front of others, without worrying about giving yourselves away
As the days turn into weeks, you and George settle into a new rhythm. No more sneaking around, no more hushed whispers and furtive glances. Instead, there are lazy Sunday mornings spent tangled in his sheets, the London rain pattering against the windows. There are impromptu double dates with Max and Andrew, where you catch yourself marvelling at how natural it feels to be out in public with George, his hand intertwined with yours.
You find yourself falling deeper in love with George every day. It's in the little things - the way he makes your tea just right without asking, how he laughs at your terrible puns, it just makes your heart swell.
The YouTube world explodes when news of your relationship finally breaks. Your social media notifications blow up, a mix of excited fans, shocked friends, and the occasional hater. Your DMs are flooded with a mix of congratulations and jealous messages. You learn to ignore the hate comments and focus on the supportive messages from friends and fans.
Max, true to his word, makes a show of dramatically covering his eyes whenever you and George so much as hold hands in his presence. But you catch him smiling softly when he thinks you're not looking, and you know that deep down, he's happy for you.
As autumn fades into winter, you find yourself spending more and more time at George's flat. Your toothbrush migrates to his bathroom, your favourite mug finds a permanent home in his kitchen cupboard. One night, as you're curled up on his sofa watching old Sidemen videos (George insists it's "research"), he turns to you with a nervous smile.
"Move in with me," he says, his voice soft but sure.
Your heart skips a beat. "What?" you ask, barely above a whisper.
George takes your hand, his thumb tracing circles on your palm. "Move in with me," he repeats. "Half your stuff is here anyway. And I... I want to wake up next to you every morning."
You study his face, taking in the hopeful glint in his eyes, the slight flush on his cheeks.
Your heart swells with emotion as you look into George's eyes. The nervous hope there, the vulnerability – it's a side of him you've grown to cherish over these past months. You think about how far you've come from those first furtive encounters, sneaking around and convincing yourselves it was just casual fun.
"Yes," you whisper, a grin spreading across your face. "Yes, I'll move in with you."
George's face lights up, and he pulls you into a kiss that leaves you breathless. When you finally part, you're both laughing, giddy with the promise of this new chapter.
The next few weeks are a whirlwind of boxes, packing tape, and furniture rearrangement. Max helps you move, grumbling good-naturedly about being demoted to "pack mule" status. But you catch him giving George a stern talking-to when he thinks you're not listening, something about "taking care of my little sister, or else."
As you unpack your life into George's space – now your shared space – you're struck by how seamlessly your belongings fit together. Your books nestle comfortably next to his on the shelves. Your favourite blanket drapes over the back of the sofa, adding a pop of colour to the room. In the bedroom, your clothes hang side by side in the closet—proof that you’re done sneaking around, done pretending this is casual. Proof that this is real.
warnings: periods… NOT REALLY A WARNING BUT YKKK, swearing, suggestive-ness, medication
Whoever said people your age couldn’t have sleepovers, could go and do one—because you absolutely fucking could, you and Talia proving said notion right now; your boys were off again, somewhere abroad for a sidemen shoot and leaving you and your best friend alone. Instead of getting all weepy and mopey (over a boy, never you) you and her decided to make the most out of the lack of testosterone—after you’d dropped your boyfriend off at the airport, all innocent smiles and pretty fluttering lashes, you’d zoomed off (probably breaking several speed limits) to get to your best friends new home.
When you got there, she’d opened the door with an excited screech despite expecting you and you returned it despite knowing she’d been the one to open the door. After of long embrace where she didn’t wanna let you go, you finally convinced her with the promised of pizza and brownies. Hauling your overnight bag in, you’d began your girly night—music booming, comfy clothes on, gossip upon gossip and so many laughs your whole body was in tatters as you made pizzas and brownies (admittedly, hers were better but she was literally Mario’s second cousin, it’s to be expected)
Food in hands and smiles never leaving your faces, you’d taken off into a race into a race for the living room (you won, obviously) and began your evening of movie watching—from 10 things i hate about you to It, then legally blonde and Tangled, and many more, . . .you had quite the night. However both of your highlights was when you discovered you both started your cycles on that particular day—before your boyfriends had left and around basically the same times: it had you both in tear inducing laughter for two minutes. You’d ended up taking a Polaroid of you both grinning while holding up Flow (the period tracker app) and showing you both having the exact same cycles.
Twins.
That was yesterday—now you were both lying in a miserable heap of pain and exhaustion in Talia’s king size bed, hot water bottles on your abdomens and remaining snacks being shovelled into your mouths as you both snuggled and occupied yourselves on your phones.
You smiled slightly when your boyfriends name popped up over TikTok but grimaced afterwards as your stomach turned horribly.
harry🤍
gd mornin xx yu okay luv ?
me
you’re actually illiterate
harry🤍
and you can’t punctuate, we all have are own flaws. anyway i hope ur good, we’re landing at 3, want me to pick u up anything?
You grinned wider, deciding to piss about.
me
yeah actually can you get me some jumbo tampons!! thank youuu x
harry🤍
what. they do JUMBO? i mean thats, at least their being inclusive. good on em 👍 wait bloody hell love, you’re on again already? swear i don’t know how you still have blood in ya
me
yeah it happens to be a monthly thing, harry. 😄😄😄😄😄 also im with my gf so you might have to whisk me away before me elope xxxxx
harry🤍
she’d get you a shitty ring anyway i’ll get in simons lift home then and you can drop us off. … i love you, gotta go, see you soon gorgeous
me
love you too smelly 😜
You looked over at Talia at, miraculously, the same time she looked up at you and when she wordlessly showed you her phone, showcasing messages of her asking Simon for XXL pads, you gasped laughingly and showed her your messages to Harry. She made a shocked face before meeting your eye and you both burst out laughing, only to groan as you ached all fucking over.
“I hate being a women.”
It was now half two and while Talia was effectively making your day better—you both were still in immense pain. You’d migrated to every living room (you loved it so much, you could cry) and both had a sofa to yourself, Mushu (their adorable dog) was nipping at some toy from where he was sat by the telly. You both were on your phones for the most part, last nights episode of Love Island that you’d absently recorded now playing on the TV as you both munched away on the breakfast Talia got delivered—McDonald’s breakfast for you and she had a spiced cheesy omelette from this little breakfast place.
“When do you think Harrys gonna ask. .?” Talia looked at you from her place on the sofa, wiggling her ringed finger mischievously with a glittering smile, one hand still firmly against her stomach.
“Probably never.”
“Bullshit!” She shot back instantly, sitting up and pointing firmly in your direction as she ignored the pain she was in in favour of reassuring you. “Babe, you have not seen the way that man looks at you when he thinks no one is looking. Like, seriously, he has literal heart eyes for you and don’t even get me started on how he speaks about you. It’s like your the best thing in this entire world to him, really. Like you’re some kinda goddess or somethin’ he always looks so awestruck by you.”
“. .probably cause I cook him dinner.” You offered with a shrug, smiling lopsidedly, and Talia snorted with a head shake.
“Or you are his dinner.”
“I mean, he does—“
“Ah! WAIT, NO. Stop, no more, please.”
You grinned at her, sparing a wink before cooing at Mushu happily and urging him to jump up on you, which he did. Your entire demeanour seemed to soften as you wrapped your arms around the large grey ball of fluff.
“He’ll probably ask you soon.”
“Natalia.” You threw her a mock serious look and she put her hands up in a surrender motion, finding herself all too funny.
“What—have you seen you?” Talia retorted, faking a dreamy sigh as she readjusted herself on the plush material of her sofa. “I’d kiss you, marry you and fuck you. Repeatedly.”
“Miss Mar. . .” You jokingly trailed off.
“Have my babies?”
“I thought you’d never ask!”
“We should really do this more often.” Talia pouted at you, friendly love bright in her irises as she pulled her blanket more around her body. “I miss hanging with you, sexy bum.”
“Miss you more, baby cakes.” You winked at her dramatically, mouth falling open just like Fred Weasley and she giggled back at you, snapping a candid photo.
“Speaking of babies—“
“NATALIA HADDOCK.”
Approaching four o’clock was when your boyfriends finally rolled up—you and Talia didn’t actually notice at first, you were both laying down on the living room floor with Mushu next to you and a mediation video on the large screen, giggles slipping past your lips even as you attempted to be quiet. You would’ve sat up but considering your cramps. . .‘twas a no go.
“Keep your fake lips shut, Cruella.”
Talia squawked in offence at your comment but kept her eyes shut for the purpose of mediation, blindly lifting a manicured hand to swat at you.
In that moment, your boyfriends both walked through the door, trading odd looks at the silence in the home (if there was anything you and Talia were together, it was not silent). Simon lead Harry through the house, more confused than anything to where his fiancé was but when they heard whooshing sounds from the living room, they both stopped uncertainly.
Harry quickly picked up a random umbrella from where they were sat, just in case.
However, when you hesitantly stalked into the living room they didn’t expect to see both of their girlfriends laying sprawled across the floor in starfish position with a mediation video playing on the large TV. They both paused, trying to repress their amusement and Harry instantly got out his phone—zooming into you to take some photos.
“Feeling zen, yet?” Simon inquired.
“So zen.” You both confirmed, simultaneously.
There was silence for no more than a second before you and Talia both let out startled exclamations and sat up straight—immediately groaning out in pain after as your stomach cramped and ached (day 2 was your personal worst day for pain/cramps).
“Woah. Woah, woah.” Simon paused at the in sync groans of pain, “listen. . .I know you both have like, interlinked emotions but please don’t tell me you can feel what the other feels?!”
“Boy.” Talia gave him a deadpan stare.
“Help.” You urged your boyfriend, reaching out your hands expectantly and he rolled his eyes fondly as he walked over to you, large hands taking your smaller ones in his own and he tugged you up from the ground, one of his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you into him. “Hey stranger.”
“Hey.” Harry mumbled back, grinning widely as he pulled you flush against him, digging his head endearingly into the crook of your neck and leaving two swift kisses, your sweet aroma surrounding him and clouding his thoughts as you hummed, running your fingers through his short hair.
“No PDA in my house!” Simon exclaimed.
“Shush,” Talia tutted—unimpressed with her fiancé, “don’t listen to him. Harry, kiss my girl all you want just. . nothing more, preferably.”
“She’s not your girl.”
“Am I not?” You played clueless, faking a confused look at him before going to step over to your best friend, only for him to tug you back against him, large, muscled arms wrapping around your front to hold you back.
“Disgusting.” Simon blanched. “Do that in your own home, please.”
You and Talia both rolled your eyes in sync: you turned your head to smile up at your boyfriend, pressing a loving peck to his soft lips and then his bicep before gently tugging his arms off you, getting ready to say bye to your friends.
“Bye beautiful.” Talia grinned, her arms coming to wrap around you with a careful tightness. “I love you, let me know if you need anything—also, we should really really do this again soon. I love spending time with you.”
Feeling your heart warm, you smiled back at her genuinely. “I love spending time with you too, Lia. Next time we can make lasagna and cupcakes. . .the Tom and Jerry ones.”
Talia squealed slightly, pulling away from your hug to press kisses to both your cheeks and then your forehead.
“You’re the best. Miss ya’ already.”
“Missing you more.”
A few minutes later, you and Harry were finally out of the mini-mar household. Your boyfriend had finally resigned to carrying you when you had fully stopped walking and hunched over slightly in pain from your cramps—he’d sighed, like the tired boyfriend he was, then gently picked you up bridal style and ignored Talia’s obnoxious awes and how she took several pictures.
(She totally didn’t put them on her story)
“Spoiled princess, ‘s what you are.” Harry shook his head jokingly as he carefully put you down in the passenger side of your own car that he was driving cause you were in pain.
“Ain’t that the truth.”
He grinned at you, looking up through his lashes as he did your seatbelt for you, one of his large arms caging you in and the the other free arm reaching over your lower half to tug the seatbelt tighter. He looked similar to an angel in that moment—sun illuminating his features, those fucking blue eyes you were a sucker for and you felt a trail of sparks on the skin his hand purposefully brushed over.
“That tight enough?” Harry inquired, cheekily.
“So tight.” You responded with a snicker of your own and he rolled his eyes at you, tugging a strand of your hair briefly and you feigned a dramatic wince as he left you, shutting the door to your side and climbing in the drivers side.
You looked over, rolling down your window readily as you knew what was coming—when your car started to take off, Talia opened up the window closest to the driveway, popping out her head with a gorgeous gleaming smile.
“BYE BYE BEAUTIFUL, I HOPE YOU FEEL BETTER SOON!”
“BYE GORGEOUS—SAME GOES FOR YOU, CALL ME!”
As you did the ‘call me’ symbol with your hand and gave her a dramatic wink, she giggled before ducking her head back indoors.
“Might as well date her.”
“Might just, y’know.” You smiled at him sweetly, turning on the radio for background noise like you always did, “Smells a lot than my current partner anyway?”
“He can’t be that bad!”
“No, really, he stinks of piss.”
“I beg you fu—“
He cut himself off, grin faltering as he heard you wince in pain, frowning softly as he looked over at you.
“Hanging in there alright?”
“Mhm.” You hummed, smiling tensely.
“I got you something.” Harry mentioned, peering over at you and when he saw you looking him with that adorably confused look, he nudged his head backwards and your eyes followed—landing on the Tesco bag in the backseat.
“My jumbo tampons?” You cackled to yourself.
“No—I did look though—“ Your laughter increased in volume, ignoring the aching pain overcoming you as best you could, “Oh—Oh. I see now, they aren’t a thing. You played me.”
“What? No, never.”
“I smell deceit.”
“I smell piss. Oh, wait, it’s just you.”
You giggled at yourself and while he tried to playfully glare at you, he couldn’t quite keep his smile at bay as he stared at you.
Curiously, you reach behind you and tug the Tesco bag from its space in the back, lugging it into your lap and opening it up—your mouth immediately pops open in an awww when you take in the two sets of cupcakes, your favourite chocolate bars, the sanitary products and some pain medication.
“Harry. .”
“Don’t mention it, I beg.” A sheepish crimson blush coats his pale cheeks at your tone and your evident heart eyes. Jesus Christ, were you pretty. He was so lucky to be able to call you his, that much he knew for sure.
“Thanks, handsome.”
“Yeah, yeah anytime man.”
You arch a brow.
“Anytime, love.” Harry corrects, flashing you an equal parts amused and sarcastic smile as you nod your approval to the changing pet name.
When you finally arrive back at your apartment complex—Harry’s already out of his side of the car as soon as it stops, and then he goes over to you, opening your door and looking down at you. He lets at a dramatic heaving sigh at your doe eyed look, scolding his skin for flushing and heart for picking up.
Effortlessly, he takes the bag off your hands with one hand and pulls you from the car with the other, once you’re out the car he lifts you up easily with one arm and you wrap your legs around his hips, arms around his neck.
“Hi.” You mumble, grinning mischievously as your acrylics scratch at his beard.
“My pretty troublemaker.” Harry huffs affectionately, squinting down at your bright smile fuelled by mischief. “Don’t you dare bring attention to us, this is embarrassing enough.” He nearly whines.
You merely smile, a kiss to his cheek to tide over his anxieties.
The walk was going pretty smoothly, but as soon as Harry stepped foot into the elevator, another set of footsteps followed and his eyes shut miserably, leaning down and sighing into your neck hopelessly.
“Hi Effie!” You immediately perk up at the sight of the older woman—Effie was this sweetheart fifty six year old who lived on the floor below you and Harry, a vast lover of plants and animals with a hatred for men (you loved her, Harry was scared of her).
Harry barely refrains for niping at the soft skin of your neck in reprimand. Of bloody course.
“Hello dearie.” The older woman, hair a dyed purple shade and silver septum hanging from her button nose, greets you with a calm smile. Effie was evidently unfazed by the scene in front of her—if anything, she was proud that you were putting your man to work. “How are you today?”
“Oh I’m grand, Ef.” You smiled so charmingly that as Harry stared down at you, he almost forgot he was even supposed to be annoyed. “How are you? How’s Tia, I miss her!”
“I’m well, thank you, dearie. Tia misses you too, I assure you. Perhaps you come down tonight, I can bake us some cookies just how you like them.”
Harry paused, bewildered. Did his girlfriend just get hit on by a grandma?!
“I—“
Before you could even get a word out, the elevator dinged open to your floor and Harry wasted now time practically sprinting out with his arms possessively entangled around your frame; you quickly exclaimed a startled ‘bye Effie’ over your boyfriends shoulder before the elevator doors shut.
You quickly distracted yourself with how you could feel your boyfriends muscular biceps as he held you up, your acrylics took to touching and tracing them as he bounced you up further on his hip. You closed your eyes, leaning further into him and humming at the delightful scent of his cologne, the soothing vibrations of his body as he quietly chatted away helping to dull the aches in your own body.
“You alright there, y/n?”
“Never been better.” You smiled up at him and he gives you an amused one back, kissing your forehead softly as he finally opens the door to your shared apartment—once inside, he readily manoeuvres the both of you to the sofa where he carefully places you down, handing you the bag of food and your favourite blanket he spots on the lone armchair. “Thank youuu.”
“Spoiled princess.” He names again, but the smile on his face is enough to melt you despite his words.
Harry then goes into the kitchen as you try and adjust on the sofa more comfortably, face screwing up as a particularly harsh pain washes through you—your abdomen clenching. To distract yourself, you search through the Tesco bag and smile to yourself as you take out the first batch of muffins.
You mindlessly click onto WhatsApp, taking a photo of the bag of goodies and sending it to the girls groupchat with a little ‘make your men do this for you, pretty ladies’ and instantly being met with gushing from them all.
“Showing off my expert shopping skills?”
You startle—gaze flickering to your boyfriend who smiles at you, that smile he saves just for you and it makes you feel so special and warm every time. Your eyes dart over him, noticing the hot water bottle he now clutches (you love that hot water bottle—it’s got this absolutely adorable cover of a lama).
Fucking hormones, you think, as you feel a wave of emotion hit you at how much he’s done for you.
“Hey,” Harry noticed the quivering frown you now adopted and internally panicked, did I do something? Hot water bottle in hand, he hurried towards you, kneeling down on the floor beside where you were laying and twirling a pierce of your hair around his finger. “Hey. What’s wrong, love, hm? You in pain?”
“Yeah.” You answer him shakily, that’s not why your suddenly upset. “I love you.”
If he’s confused—he doesn’t show it, he merely smiles at you comfortingly, leaning in to gently press a kiss to your lips.
“I love you more.”
You smile up at him and his face softens completely at you—he’s so fucking in love. And yes, these thoughts of his are incredibly soppy, but, he couldn’t help it. The girl of his dreams, the love of his life, the prettiest person in the world, was currently staring at him like he hung the moon and the stars. . . he’d never tire of your beautiful face, your radiant smile that flustered him every damn time.
When you move so he can slide in behind you, he eagerly takes the invitation. He slots in behind you on the sofa, pulling you atop him with your back against his chest; he takes the hot water bottle, your favourite one, and carefully moves up your shirt before pressing it against your lower stomach and keeping his hands there to hold it in place, pressing a thoughtless yet meaningful kiss to the side of your head and you snuggle back into him.
“Oi, give me a bite.”
“Fuck off, it’s my scran.”
“Yeah—and who’s card did it make a dent in?”
“Our card, handsome.”
“. . . Spoiled princess.”
And that’s how you spend most of the rest of your day—intertwined limbs, goofy grins, soft kisses and joking insults.
summary : harry’s insecurities causes the downfall of his own relationship.
warnings : swearing, arguing, just a whole of sadness.
notes : thanks for all the love on my first harry fic (and my first fic ever) i greatly appreciate it!!
“walk out of that door,” you pointed your finger in the direction of your flat door, “and we’re fucking done. i mean it, harry.” you threat with your voice very audibly shaking with the overwhelming emotions you were experiencing.
he felt awful, seeing you in this state, but his mind was set. this would be better for you no matter how much it hurt at first. you would come to your senses quickly and live a better life and he was willing to sacrifice his own happiness for that.
harry stopped just as he was about to walk away from you, from your life together, to prepare himself for the heavy lie about to be forced through his lips — one that would break his heart just as it will yours.
slowly, he turned his head back to face you. “you can’t end anything that was never there.” your face immediately broke, and his heart broke so violently he was surprised it didn’t create any noise. there was no coming back from this.
you shook her head and opened your mouth but nothing came out except a small, choking sob that you quickly covered up by closing your mouth again. you weren’t going to break down infront of him, you wanted to look strong.
he didn’t deserve to see that he had so clearly hit a nerve, that he had just broken down the girl he had previously built back up. you just needed him to leave so you could be alone.
finally, he turned again and left your flat with a loud slam of the front door. your sobs echoed through his head as the door closed behind him for good — now he had to face the future alone.
the more harry didn’t want you, the harder you tried. however, the harder you tried the more he didn’t want you. you didn’t know what you had done to deserve the treatment you had received from him that night. there was only thing you knew for sure; you couldn’t let it break you. atleast not on the outside.
so, in hopes of proving to everyone you was coping well you had agreed to a brunch date with talia in which you both sat at the back of a restaurant and spoke of your feelings. you had tried to avoid the topic but talia knew you to well.
she was the only one you could confide in. she was the only shoulder you let myself sob into when you couldn’t pretend to be okay anymore. she was your rock through it all. talia understood it was more than a breakup you were experiencing; it was grief of losing harry lewis.
your closest friend, sat across from you, swirled her plastic straw around her glass cup, glancing up at you after taking a sip. “do you still love him?” she questioned in a gentle tone that made you want to start crying again.
you didn’t answer properly at first. you hummed just before you took a large sip of your drink infront of you to try and delay the inevitable. talia would not leave you alone until she knew you were okay.
a mere three seconds later, a hand landed on top of yours, rubbing over the skin on top and taking you away from your own consuming thoughts. talia held your hand until you finally found the courage to answer out loud truthfully.
“i don’t think i’ll ever stop.” you words seemed to upset talia. it only proved how much she cared for you — that she felt your emotions with you to let you know you weren’t alone in this. “i just don’t know if we’re meant for each other.”
talia gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, “you should speak to him.” she advised you, “maybe you’re not meant for each other now, but end it in good terms just incase.”
you weren’t sure wether or not to go along with her advice, but at the end of the day you knew that you couldn’t move on from him properly without knowing what you had done to destroy your relationship.
harry answered your late night text straight away and agreed to come over to yours only the next day. infact, he arrived an hour earlier than you both had agreed upon. mostly because he was too nervous to wait around.
now, you stood across from your ex boyfriend with only the kitchen island to separate you from eachother. you leaned against the counter in hopes it would keep you upright throughout this tough conversation that neither of you were ready for.
“did i do anything to make you stop loving me?” the questioned rolled off of your tongue as if it was a casual conversation topic, like you were talking about what to have for dinner instead of why your relationship fell apart so quickly.
harry couldn’t meet your eyes. instead, he was fixating on the ground beneath him. “i never stopped loving you.” finally he met your adamant gaze, “i just…” he shrugged as he tried to find his words, “if i don’t like who i am, why should you?”
you hung your head down onto your hands. you was beyond stressed. you had finally pieced it together — he didn’t stop loving you but instead stopped loving himself, which led to lots of miscommunication. however, you felt that surely he loved you enough to not let you go.
“but how could you leave me so easily?” you pestered him once again, causing his jaw to clench tightly and his eyes to move away from you once again. other than that his body was rigid, as if he was afraid to move.
he had planned this whole conversation out. he knew how this needed to end for your sake and he was willing to do anything for it. even if that meant going through this.
“it’s not easy, y/n, but it’s for the better.” harry finally looked up at his ex girlfriend that had been staring at him the whole time — looking exceedingly dejected. “you have to understand i don’t want to do this, i need to.”
“harry—“
“please, y/n.” harry interrupted you with an begging tone in his voice, “you don’t deserve me, you don’t deserve this,” he used his hand to gesture between the both of you, “i love you, i always will, but this doesn’t feel right.”
he began to grow frustrated. he shook his hands while he spoke in a way to try and get his correct emotions across without making this situation any worse than it already was. “please, y/n.” he turned desperate.
you didn’t want to argue anymore, he wasn’t changing his mind no matter what you said or did. his mind was set on leaving you no matter how much it hurt you to admit to yourself. you didn’t know if what you both had was true love, but it was the closest you had ever gotten.
“okay, harry.” you spoke with a despondent glaze over your eyes, you had lost all hope. you walked over to the other side to stand by harry, “whatever you need.” your voice broke through the sentence.
harry stood there, looking at the woman he loves, his heart heavy with longing despite their current situation. you looked back at him, your eyes locking, and you both knew what the other was feeling. despite all of it, you still had a feeling of mutual respect and understanding for harry.
he leaned closer, to try and kiss you, but before he can you pulled away. “i can’t.” your voice was merely above a whisper. the words still left harry speechless while you turned and walked away. leaving him in the kitchen staring at where you had disappeared to, looking mournful.
love is just not a feeling. it’s a choice that people made every day, and you had to chose to stop expressing your love for harry so he could learn to love himself properly. he needed to be there for himself to enjoy what you two had.
nothing compared to harry, but you would wait for him.
I’ve just found you from whoetoshaw’s blog and WOW! I love your blog! 💞
🎀 anything with Freezy?! Maybe like a reunion/rekindling type-thing from back then to now? Like friends who were shipped back then and date now? I hope that makes sense 🥲 Xx
aww, thank you!! I was waiting for a prompt like this 😭 I hope you like it!
September 2016.
January 2017.
liked by calfreezy, wroetoshaw, joeygraceffa, and 872,519 others
yourusername Through My Eyes 2016 out now. So much has changed for me over the past year, I (finally) got my own place, I've met so many new people, and we hit 5 million subscribers!! Thank you all so much for all you've supported me through this year, and let's hope for an equally amazing TME of 2017! 💞💞
ynfan4 Oh I've been waiting for the highlight of my year!!
taliamar Good to see my festival feature is still the best part of the video. So proud of you girl ❤️
ynxcal4ever At 14.52 when it's just Y/n and Cal in their kitchen for the last time before she moved out and they remade the first ever thing they cooked together 😭😭 I'm so emotional right now
calfreezy I would say I had a glow up but after watching this I realised that I've always been mindblowingly attractive
yourusername The real reason I had to move out was because your big head was leaving dents in the wall anymore and I didn't want to feel like I was living with two Harrys xoxo 😘😘
wroetoshaw Oi! What did I do?
yourusername Broke my LED mirror by throwing a controller at it.
sdmnsundayz Y/n is a Saint for putting up with them.
January 2020.
liked by youtube, oliviarodrigo, miniminter, and 1,982,370 others
yourusername Through My Eyes 2019 is out now. Enjoy a year of travel across the world and the family who kept me strong through all of it. Thank you all for every line we've crossed and every milestone we hit this year, I love you all so so much 💘💘
calfreezy This is my favourite one out of all of them
yourusername Is it because you're in pretty much every frame?
calfreezy Obviously
freyanightingale Ibiza you will always be famous!
taliamar We need to go back ASAP
yourusername Opening scene to the next tme planned? I think so
ynslover 'Cal and Y/n' this, 'Y/n and the girls' that, yes it's cute but can we take a moment to appreciate how STUNNING she looked in this video???
ynfreezy LITERALLY. Like shes always been stunning but something in the foreign air made her a literal goddess it's not even funny
calsfreezys the bi panic was panicking HARD
taliaxynxfreya Currently crying over the fact that Y/n and Cal were together in most of the shots
w2minter There's no way they're not together.
January 2023.
liked by emmachamberlain, gracieabrams, faithlouisak, and 3,419,778 others
yourusername through my eyes 2022, you are my soul. despite me saying this every time I post one of these videos, I mean it now more than ever. from hitting 25 MILLION subscribers (what???), to hosting interviews at the MET gala, to truly falling in love, thank you to you all, and thank you to the universe for guiding me to where I am now. I truly cannot put my gratitude into words 💞💞💞
faithlouisak beautiful girl, beautiful video, beautiful vibe. the best part of every year xx ❤️❤️
yourusername love u more than words can describe ❤️
calfreezy I guess the amount of clips of you laughing makes up for the lack of me
calfreezy barely, though
calfreezy I better be heavily featured in the next one
yourusername I'll make a whole video dedicated to you if that's what you want
ynfan124 how do his tantrums work on you 😭
yourusername I've learned through many years that its better to just give him what he wants
mintertalia Y/N SOFT LAUNCHING???? this is a make or break for the cal and y/n shippers
yn2s yall still exist? give in, it's been years, if they were going to reveal something then they would've done it by now
mintertalia bro stfu you're a ship account for two people who've called each other siblings 😭
yourusername just posted !
liked by ksi, calfreezy, mikesmic, and 3,998,770 others
yourusername @calfreezy satisfied?
YNXCAL NO FUXKING WAY
ynslover YOU CANNOT JUST DROP THIS ON US QUEEN
calfreezy it'll do
yourusername what if I broke up with you
calfreezy you'd miss me too much
taliamar cuties!!
freyanightingale what happened to soft launching it? 🤣
