My Absolute Fave Of Yours!!! I’ve Probably Read It Like 14 Times🫶🏻🤭🫶🏻🤭🫶🏻🤭🫶🏻

The Debut

Masterlist

The news hit the F1 world like a thunderclap—a 20 year old American driver, a complete unknown, was stepping into the Aston Martin seat mid-season. One of the few rookies to join halfway through the season, she was brought in to cover for Lance Stroll, sidelined potentially indefinitely by a severe injury. Speculation about his replacement had run wild, but no one expected it to be someone with almost no public history, let alone a driver no one had ever seen outside their helmet and racing suit. Yet Aston Martin was now ready to unveil her to the world—a driver who had only been known by her number, 66, and the nickname “Daredevil.”

In the week leading up to her debut, Aston Martin teased fans with cryptic photos and voice-modulated videos. Finally, they dropped a fifteen-minute video titled Welcome to AMRTC Driver 66, capturing her first day with the team. It opened with clips of the team speculating about her skill, personality, and confidence, overlaid with shots of her walking through the building without truly showing more than her shoes. Then, as a black screen lingered, the opening chords of “Real Gone” from Cars filled the silence. The video cut to the mystery driver getting suited up, each layer adding to her mystique, until she finally took to the track in the new car. A montage of high-speed laps displayed her undeniable skill and poise until the song slowly faded, revealing her standing still, helmet off, with curled hair framing her face as she turned toward the camera for the first time. This was quickly followed by a long ‘get to know me’ interview.

From the moment she arrived, the paddock buzzed with whispers. Her face was unfamiliar to the veteran drivers, but rumors hinted at her racing roots from leagues around the world. The fans, media, and even her new teammate waited with bated breath, eager to see if this newcomer could hold her own against the sport’s giants.

Y/n pov

I stepped into the Aston Martin garage with Marcus, my manager, beside me. My headphones were on, the bass of my favorite race weekend hype playlist thumping as I took in the scene. Mechanics and engineers glanced up from their tasks, eyes darting over to me before resuming their work on the cars and equipment, all in preparation for Practice Day 1. I’d skipped the usual media day—Aston Martin had somehow managed to get the FIA’s approval for me to skip it, which suited me just fine.

Marcus guided me through the bustling garage, giving me a quick rundown of everything before leading me to my driver’s room in the Aston Martin hospitality suite. As I took a seat, nerves bubbled up—I still hadn’t met Fernando Alonso. As confident as I felt in the car, the idea of meeting a living legend, someone who’d been racing since before I was even born, was something else entirely.

For as long as I could remember, Fernando Alonso had been my idol. I’d spent years studying his every move on the track, even adopting his aggressive, calculated driving style until I’d eventually developed my own. But knowing that I’d be racing alongside him—that I’d actually get to learn from him first hand—felt surreal, like stepping into a dream I’d chased my entire life.

That all changed the moment I actually met him. As I walked into the garage, fully suited up in my fireproofs with my helmet tucked under my arm, I could feel the weight of the moment settling in. After a quick weigh-in, Marcus led me over to Alonso. For a few awkward seconds, he barely glanced my way, his focus elsewhere until someone pointed me out to him. Around us, everyone was smiling and looking expectant—everyone except him. I swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in my throat. I hadn’t expected him to be thrilled about my arrival, but his distant, unreadable expression stung in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

As I approached, He looked me up and down with the slightest hint of a frown.

"So, they think you're ready to jump into this mid-season?" he asked, crossing his arms. "I wonder if you actually understand what that means."

I blinked, taken aback by his bluntness. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't," I shot back, trying to keep my tone even.

He raised an eyebrow. "A lot of drivers think they’re ready," he replied, his voice cool. "But being ready means more than just showing up with confidence. Winning is a mindset, an instinct. It’s not just something you decide you have one day."

I felt my hands tighten around my helmet. "Maybe it’s not something you decide—but it is something you prove. I’m here to race, not get your approval, and I’ll show you on track that my style is nothing like what you've seen before."

A spark flashed in his eyes, though his expression remained unchanged. "We’ll see if your style is worth anything," he said, a hint of challenge in his voice. "Just remember that here, being good isn’t enough."

Without another word, I turned on my heel and headed toward my car, trying to shake off the sting of his words. As I disappeared around the corner, Fernando watched me go, the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Once my car was ready, I climbed in, settling into the seat as the engineers moved in to strap me down. Glancing up at the screen, I watched past race footage from this track with this very car. They wanted me to see what I’d be up against—what I needed to match and, ideally, surpass.

A moment later, Marcus crouched down into my line of sight, flanked by two guys—one older and serious, the other younger, with a bit of a wide-eyed look.

“Y/N, this is Ben,” Marcus began, gesturing to the older man. “He’ll be running your radio. But he’s also training Landon here,” he nodded toward the younger guy, “to be your personal radio engineer. Since there’s still a good part of the season left, you’ll need someone who gets you on and off the track. Landon’s been watching your last F2 season, studying up to learn your style. Today’s practice sessions will help you both adjust to your new roles together.”

I nodded and gave them a thumbs up—they wouldn’t hear me over the helmet or the noise of the garage anyway, but my excitement was clear.

It was finally time. My doorman stepped out, giving me the signal that I was clear to go. I eased the car forward, carefully navigating my way onto the main pit road. Aston Martin’s garage was positioned right at the front of the entrance, but it also meant the longest stretch before merging onto the track. As I rolled past each team’s garage, I felt eyes following my every move, curious and assessing. They’d all heard the buzz about the new “mystery driver,” and now here I was.

Once I hit the open track, becoming the first car out on the tarmac, my radio crackled to life with Landon’s voice. “Okay, Y/N, this session is all about finding your sweet spot with the car. If anything feels even slightly off, let me know immediately. For now, just get comfortable with the track. We’ll start gathering real data in the next session.”

I pressed the radio button and replied with a quick, “Yes, sir,” a grin hidden behind my helmet as I pushed down on the accelerator, ready to make my mark.

I took a deep breath, the roar of the engine and the blur of the pit wall filling my senses as I pushed down on the accelerator. The Italian GP track spread out before me in a symphony of curves and straightaways, each turn already embedded in my mind. I’d studied this circuit obsessively—every corner, every curb, every shift in gradient. But now, with the Aston Martin beneath me, I could finally feel it for myself, each bump and nuance translating through the car with perfect clarity.

As I took on the first few turns, my instincts kicked in—a mix of smooth control and split-second aggression. Where other drivers might ease off in preparation for a hairpin, I’d mastered the art of late braking, letting the car edge just to the point of losing grip before snapping it back with a calculated shift in weight. I slid through the Variante del Rettifilo, cutting a sharp angle through the chicane, my hands steady as I kept my foot down. Each move, each turn was a test, not just for me, but for the entire team watching my data back in the garage.

The name Franco Colapinto kept flashing in my mind. I knew he’d have an impressive debut mid-season, and I could feel a competitive drive swelling within me as I attacked the track, eager to match and even exceed his potential mark. Exiting the second Lesmo, I made a mental note of how much grip the car could hold, the feeling just right as I powered down the straight toward Ascari. I couldn’t afford a single misstep. If I was going to prove myself, this was my moment to do it—full control at breakneck speed.

“Looking good, Y/N,” Landon’s voice crackled through the radio, but I was already focused on the final corner. The Parabolica curved ahead, inviting me to test my limits, and I didn’t hesitate. I took it wide before tightening on the exit, feeling the car grip to the line as I pushed the throttle to the max, the car launching down the home straight. 

“Love you, Landon, but please don’t speak before I’m accelerating out of the corner,” I said quickly over the radio, just as I straightened out and hit the next curve.

There was a pause before his voice crackled back, a bit sheepishly. “Yes, ma’am. My apologies.”

I chuckled, the corners of my mouth lifting behind my helmet. “No worries, I’ll have you perfected in no time.”

With that, I settled back into my rhythm, feeling the weight of the car and every detail of the track imprinting itself in my mind. Soon enough, the first practice session came to an end, and I guided the car back to the pits. As I parked and the engineers moved in, I took a moment to pull off my helmet, still buzzing from the thrill of my first laps. This track, this team, and this car were quickly becoming home.

Time Skip -

Race day had arrived, bringing the tension and thrill of my F1 debut, but the sting of yesterday’s qualifying disaster still lingered. I’d ended up in P18, an unfortunate consequence of a poorly timed red flag that left the five of us at the back with no real shot at setting a solid lap time. I tried to brush it off as I prepared to join the rest of the grid for the drivers' parade.

Dressed in team gear, I wore one extra item that had become a part of my ritual. A few months ago, I lost my mother to cancer, and since then, I’d made sure to honor her at every race. Something on me, whether it was my gear or my helmet, would always bear a symbol of her favorite animal: the sea turtle. She had chosen it after learning the turtle’s symbolism of wisdom, endurance, and trusting one’s path, all qualities that described her so well. On each of my helmets, a small sea turtle was etched into the design. And when I wasn’t wearing the helmet, I kept a sea turtle necklace with me, its pendant filled with a touch of her ashes, as if she were here with me, watching over this pivotal moment.

I slipped on my headphones, tuning into my “reminiscing” playlist, letting myself reflect in the few quiet moments before the chaos. “How Do I Say Goodbye” by Dean Lewis filled my ears, a song that resonated now more than ever. My F2 team had given me the remainder of the season off after my mother’s passing, telling the media I was undergoing intense training for my reserve role. Nobody outside my close circle knew the truth, and it felt like a private thread of grief I carried alone, my mother’s memory grounding me as I faced the reality of my first F1 race without her.

I followed the line of drivers, hanging back, unnoticed by most. No one had approached me—not to chat, nor to dismiss me. They’d fallen naturally into their cliques, small pockets of friendships built over countless races together. The trailer pulled up, and I was the last to step aboard, taking a quiet corner near the back. My gaze drifted over the crowd as I toyed with the sea turtle pendant around my neck, a small comfort. If there was ever a moment I needed my mom, it was now. I imagined her smiling at my awkwardness, maybe even scolding the guys to show a bit of gentlemanly grace. Her humor and warmth were all I had left to keep close in this overwhelming moment.

Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts. I pulled off my headphones and turned to see a smiling Franco Colapinto standing there, his easy grin contagious. My smile mirrored his as I placed my headphones around my neck, grateful for the distraction.

“Hola! I’ve been waiting to get a chance to talk to you,” he said, his tone smooth and friendly.

“Hey! I didn’t think anyone would come over,” I replied, surprised but pleased. “It’s nice to finally meet you. How are you feeling about today?”

“Excited and a little nervous, to be honest. It’s not every day you get to race in Formula 1, right? I’m sure you feel the same way.”

I nodded, feeling a wave of camaraderie. “Definitely. It’s been a whirlwind, but I’m ready to show what I can do out there.”

Franco's eyes sparkled with encouragement. “You’ve got this! I saw your lap times from practice; you really have a gift. Just stay focused and trust your instincts. We’re in this together after all.”

“Thanks! That means a lot, especially coming from you. I know you’ve been making waves already too,” I said, my confidence growing.

“Just trying to keep up!” he laughed, his energy infectious. “How about we make a pact? Let’s push each other out there and see how far we can go. We might even surprise some people!”

“Deal!” I grinned, feeling the excitement of a budding friendship. “I’d love to have someone to share this experience with. After all, it’s always more fun with friends.”

Franco nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly! Let’s catch up after the race too—maybe grab a bite? I think we could both use a little downtime after all this craziness.” He blushed slightly, the nerves from the question filling him. 

“Sounds perfect,” I replied, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. As we exchanged a few more words, the nervous weight on my shoulders lifted, replaced by the warmth of a new friendship that made this moment feel just a little less daunting.

Time flew by, and before I knew it, we were dropped back at the paddock. With no distractions, I headed straight for my garage, ready to change and get my head in the game. As I pulled on each piece of my race gear, my heart thudded louder, like it was syncing up with the pulse of the race track. I pressed play on my go-to race day anthem, letting "Real Gone" by Sheryl Crow blast through my headphones on repeat. If this song didn’t put me in the zone, nothing would—it was basically my theme song at this point.

Finally dressed, I took out my helmet. Today, I’d be wearing something special. Up until now, I’d been using my usual helmet, but today was different. This one was for my mom. The design was everything she’d loved: a watercolor sea turtle on each side, painted in her honor. And the top? Like Max’s iconic lion, but this time, it was the face of a sea turtle, wise and serene, watching over me. I could almost hear her laugh as I ran my fingers over the shell details. This one’s for you, Mom.

Leaving the driver’s room, I headed towards the garage, spotting Fernando getting weighed, his usual intense focus evident even with all the last-minute prep happening around us. I gave him a nod, but he was too busy to notice. The team was buzzing, everyone moving with that pre-race electricity.

Before long, I was strapped into the car, staring down the rows of vehicles lined up before me. Silence filled my helmet as I mentally ran through my race strategy. My goal was clear: make it into the points. It wasn’t just about my debut anymore; it was about proving that I belonged here. I’d shut up the critics, the doubters, the ones who said I didn’t have what it took. One pass at a time, I’d show them exactly why I was here.

With just minutes left before the race began, the team pulled the last of the covers from my car and gave it one final check before stepping back off the track. A calm washed over me, the nerves melting into pure focus. It was time.

As the lights went out for the formation lap, I pressed the pedal, feeling the power beneath me roar to life. One by one, the cars in front began moving, and I eased into line, the vibrations of the track buzzing through my hands and up my arms. As I made my way around the circuit, I took in the crowds, fans pressed up against the barricades, flags waving, people cheering, everyone vying for a glimpse of the action before the real race even began. Some held banners and signs with drivers’ names, a few even with my number and the sea turtle logo—my symbol.

I could feel the weight of all those eyes, every fan, every camera trained on the car, and I let it sink in. This was it. For a split second, my mind flashed back to all the hard work, the sleepless nights, and every lap it took to reach this moment. I had something to prove to the fans, to the team, to everyone who’d doubted me. But right now, the only thing on my mind was to trust my path—just like the sea turtle my mom had loved so much.

As the formation lap came to an end, the tension in the air shifted into something electric. The cars lined up on the grid, engines rumbling in anticipation, and I felt a surge of adrenaline course through me. The lights began to sequence, and I focused on the start, visualizing my strategy for the race. This was my moment, and I was ready.

The lights went out, and with a roar, I launched off the line. The initial surge was exhilarating; I was quick on the throttle, feeling the car respond to my commands as I made my way into Turn 1. I immediately positioned myself on the inside line, expertly avoiding the chaos of the cars jostling for position. I could hear the crackle of the radio as Landon encouraged me, reminding me to stay calm and focused.

By the time I reached the first series of corners, I was already gaining ground. I overtook a struggling driver on the outside, timing my move perfectly as I accelerated past him, narrowly avoiding a collision. The thrill of passing my first competitor sent a rush of confidence through me. I could see Franco up ahead, holding steady in P15, and I set my sights on catching him.

As I maneuvered through the tighter sections of the track, I began to find my rhythm. I was in the zone, my mind clear, my instincts sharp. Every corner felt like an opportunity, and I seized each one with determination. The roar of the crowd grew louder with every pass I made, and I could feel the energy fueling my drive.

By the end of the first five laps, I had already climbed up to P15. The rush of adrenaline pushed me further as I entered the sixth lap, where I saw two cars ahead battling for position. I took advantage of their fight, threading my car between them at just the right moment. It felt like a dance, fluid and precise. I could hear Landon’s voice in my ear, excitement evident as I made my way to P12.

With each lap, I continued to push, my confidence growing as I settled into the flow of the race. I navigated through the midfield, expertly carving my way around each driver that stood in my path. Before I knew it, I was in P10, and the battle for the final point was heating up. I had Franco in my sights, and he was locked in a fierce duel with a driver ahead. I took a deep breath, my focus zeroing in on the track ahead.

As we approached the DRS zone, I positioned myself perfectly behind Franco, ready to capitalize on the situation. The moment the DRS activated, I unleashed the power of my car, speeding past him as I made my way into P9. A rush of exhilaration flooded over me—I was in the points! I could hardly believe it. The realization that I had come from P18 to P9 within 2/3s of the race filled me with a sense of accomplishment and the determination to keep pushing forward. With my mother’s spirit guiding me, I 2ould fight for better positions. 

The final laps flew by in a blur, each corner, each straight a chance to cement my place in this race. I held P9 fiercely, defending against anyone who dared to challenge me, pushing the car to its limits while staying calm under pressure. As I crossed the finish line, a wave of relief and triumph washed over me, the weight of the entire race lifting in an instant. My radio crackled with life, and suddenly the cheers of the team filled my helmet, their voices a symphony of celebration.

“P9! Absolutely incredible, y/n!” Landon’s voice shouted, brimming with pride. “You did it, you’re in the points on your debut!”

I could hear Marcus chiming in, his excitement nearly drowning out the others, “You’ve made history today. Unbelievable drive—everyone here is beyond proud!”

A smile broke across my face as I took a moment to let it all sink in. The crowd’s cheers blended with the voices in my ear, my heart racing with pure exhilaration. I lifted a hand in a quiet tribute to my mom, feeling her presence there on the track. This was just the beginning—I’d proven I belonged here. 

Pulling into parc fermé, I powered down the car, feeling the silence wrap around me as the engine’s roar faded. Just as I started climbing out, I heard someone shout my name over the buzz of the paddock. I turned and saw Franco charging toward me, a huge grin plastered on his face. Before I could react, he reached me, practically tackling me in a bear hug as he lifted me off my feet and spun me around.

“You raced beautifully, hermosa!” he yelled, his excitement infectious. I couldn’t help but laugh, caught up in his energy as he set me back down.

“And you! That defense was insane—I thought I’d never get around you!” I replied, still catching my breath. We grinned at each other, peeling off our helmets and balaclavas, both flushed and exhilarated.

“Seriously,” he said, eyes bright, “for a debut race? You were unstoppable. I knew you’d make waves, but that was something else.”

“Thanks, Franco,” I said, feeling the pride and relief mix with a new rush of excitement. “And I know that won’t be the last time I’m chasing you down.”

“Can’t wait for it,” he replied with a laugh. We shared a nod, silently acknowledging the start of something bigger between us. 

As we pulled away, someone called out for us. I turned, and to my surprise, racing legend Lewis Hamilton was walking over, looking exhausted but with a warm, genuine smile. "That was spectacular from both of you," he said, nodding at Franco and me. "I can’t wait to watch the highlights later. You both defended and overtook with skill today—I’m excited to see how you both keep improving."

Franco and I exchanged a quick look of shared amazement and thanked him, both of us a bit starstruck. Just then, Alex appeared, pulling Franco aside, leaving me with Lewis.

“So, y/n,” he began, his tone more serious now, “I actually wanted to have a word with you. I didn’t want to overwhelm you earlier, so I thought now might be the best time—when your spirits are high and you’ve got a bit of space to breathe.” I nodded, curious, as he continued.

“I know it can be tough to find real allies here,” he said gently. “Especially as someone who stands out in a sport that doesn’t have many like you.” His words hit home; I’d felt the isolation creeping in, even with the excitement of today’s race. “I went through a similar thing when I started. I want you to know, if you ever need a friend or someone to talk to, I’m here. Whether it’s for advice, venting, or just someone who gets it—don’t hesitate to find me.”

A wave of gratitude washed over me, and I managed a smile, feeling the pressure I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying start to lift. “Thank you, Lewis. That really means a lot,” I said, trying to convey how much his words reassured me. He gave a small, understanding nod, like he knew exactly what I was feeling.

“Anytime,” he said with a kind smile. “You’ve got a bright future ahead. Just keep your head up.” With a reassuring nod, Lewis turned and walked back toward his team, leaving me standing there with a sense of both calm and determination. I took a deep breath, letting his words sink in, feeling a surge of confidence. 

Gathering myself, I turned and headed back to my team’s garage, the noise of the paddock buzzing around me, but somehow, I felt more focused than ever. As I walked, a few crew members caught my eye, giving me nods and pats on the back, their own excitement mirroring my own. 

I saw Marcus waiting with a grin, surrounded by engineers who all looked just as thrilled. I knew I’d made a mark today—not just on the track but on the people who believed in me. And as I joined them, I couldn’t help but smile.

i love him, it's ruining my life [guilty as sin part one] | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem sainz!reader

a contract ends, a relationship is exposed and even with everything on the line, she still loves him.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 621,099 others

yourusername: out and about town

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user1: girl? girl? GIRL?

user2: carlos' career is DEAD AND SHE'S POSTING VACATION PICS ON INSTAGRAM

user3: at least they're cute instagram pics

landonorris: y/n i think it's time you finally take that phone off of do not disturb

yourusername: but that's the perpetual state of my phone i am a poet i was born to be in the woods, if you have news tell me now before i close this app in 20 seconds

landonorris: i don't want to air your brother's business out in a public instagram comments literally just scroll through your timeline idiot

yourusername: wait let me open the family group chat

yourusername: WHAT

user4: are we about to see her reaction to carlos losing his seat in real time?

user5: let me grab my popcorn one sec

yourusername: WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME?

landonorris: take your phone off DND for once in your life and maybe you’d be clued in on the news

charles_leclerc: and while you’re at it reply to all the tiktoks i sent you

landonorris: not the time leclerc

charles_leclerc: but but but my tiktoks… i finally got a tarot card reading that resonates

landonorris: NOT THE TIME

charles_leclerc: don’t hate the player hate the game

carlossainz55: really?

charles_leclerc: i am TALKING ABOUT TIKTOKS LEAVE ME ALONE

yourusername: this is a lot - gosh can’t a girl go on holiday without everything imploding (i'll check the tiktoks in a second)

user6: anyone kinda weirded out that charles is just here joking with y/n as if his teammate and her brother hasn’t just been forced out of a job?

liked by carlossainz55

user7: babe he wasn’t forced out of a job, his contract wasn’t renewed. the last time i checked this was a sport where they compete not sit around and sit kumbaya

liked by charles_leclerc

user8: oh! they’re both liking shady comments already, it’s been a day since the announcement

user9: this is gonna get ugly isn’t it?

user10: awful, truly. i’m sat.

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 1,029,458 others

carlossainz55: love all, trust a few and do wrong to none

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user11: .... right, what ever the fuck that means?

user12: i mean i was just here to celebrate the win what is all this poetry

user11: are we shading charles? lewis? ferrari?

yourusername: shakespeare, really?

carlossainz55: i can read you know

yourusername: oh really, that's news to me

user13: erm you guys i thought the whole job loss thing was meant to bring the family together....

user14: they joke like this all the time this is just sibling banter

user15: idk it's reading a lil more tense than usual, not that there's any reason for that (that we know of)

charles_leclerc: doing the tifosi proud ❤️

carlossainz55: will do while i can

user16: yall .... what happened to the chemistry

user17: they were never friends - pierre tried to tell yall

landonorris: a carlando podium !!! lets do this every week

carlossainz55: golf buddies and podium buddies - you love to see it

landonorris: LETS GO WILD AND PUT IT ON FERRARIS TAB THEY OWE YOU

landonorris: i mean let's celebrate your triumph good pal!

user18: the PR monster got lando :( rip

carlossainz55: just being able to win in front of the most important people in my life is enough

user19: does anyone else think it was weird that y/n wasn't at the race?

user20: like y/n loves australia she litr says that she was an aussie in a past life...

user21: also the most recent carlos comment... is y/n not one of the most important people in his life?

user22: do we think something has happened? like maybe he thought she should've cut her holiday short to come home to support him?

user23: also the fact that her and charles were immediately like joking around with each other? maybe it just rubbed him the wrong way

user24: but not even considering her an important person to him? and also that just seems like he's shifting all the blame to charles when it's ferrari who haven't extended the contract

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 892,309 others

tagged: kellypiquet & yourusername

maxverstappen1: she says she's a professional third wheel, i call that being a LEECH

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user29: unlikely trio but somehow my favourite

user30: y/n really be their overgrown child

yourusername: how am i the leech when i paid for the ice cream mr millionaire 🤨

maxverstappen1: ever thought about how i want to spend quality time with my girlfriend?

yourusername: won't someone think of the children

maxverstappen1: ur 23

yourusername: that's it! p and i are unionising against this if you find suspiciously well drawn crayon graffiti on your walls it was NOT me

maxverstappen1: don't threaten my walls if you still want to come to races

yourusername: low blow 😩

user31: does that mean... she's not going to races with carlos?

user32: she's always been in his garage tho like even with how close her and max have always been SHE'S ALWAYS IN GARAGE 55

user33: i feel like this has something to do with the whole seat situation i'm not sure how but like i think there's something weird going on here

kellypiquet: don't worry @yourusername it might be max's house but it's p that has the final say

yourusername: no one gets bluey like i do

maxverstappen1: yeah but while you're here you get the best seat at the tea party IT'S NOT FAIR

yourusername: well one of us can name all the disney princesses and one of us can't

user34: so.... y/n is living with max? but i thought her and carlos shared an apartment in madrid?

user35: guys i'm so confused

user36: we need the twitter detectives on this asap

charles_leclerc: no lec... when i specifically sent you a PR bundle, you hate to see it

maxverstappen1: you only sent that to us for y/n

charles_leclerc: maybe! but i have it on good authority that you loved the vanilla

maxverstappen1: ummmmmmm no i'm a professional athlete, y/n ate all of it

yourusernames: FALSEHOODS

charles_leclerc: i know who i believe

maxverstappen1: why is everyone ganging up on me in this comment section

user37: charles sending lec to max's house just for y/n WHAT DOES THIS ALL MEAN

user38: and does it have anything to do with carlos maybe kicking her out

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 673,892 others

yourusername: gotta make sure i give p a reason to tell me stick around

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user39: charles is always in the likes before me and i have notifications on

user40: they seem like such close friends it's so annoying that they're never spotted together at a race and we have no pictures of them :(

charles_leclerc: why do i never get any baked goods i literally sent my ice cream to my arch rivals house just for you

yourusername: you're never in the fucking country that's why

charles_leclerc: i have this kind of demanding job i don't know if you knew

yourusername: i also have the demanding job of being sexy and i cope just fine

charles_leclerc: i heard you got employee of the year, hard to be too upset when you're the competition

yourusername: better luck next time babe

user41: openly flirting with the guy that caused her brother to lose his job, this girl is just shameless

yourusername: do you think charles is the literal ceo of ferrari?

user42: why are you defending charles more than your actual brother?

yourusername: i feel like i gotta make this statement every three buisness days on here but like you people don't know what happens in our personal lives and i can defend my friends if i feel they're being unnecessarily questioned

user43: queen snapped omg

user38: they always be out here trying her like she's not a writer and poet SHE WILL READ YOU FOR FILTH

maxverstappen1: pretty sure she'd replace you with me in like two seconds so you're safe until [redacted] gets home

yourusername: i'm pretty sure with the right campaign i could sway jimmy and sassy to my side as well

user44: who the FUCK IS REDACTED

maxverstappen1: wouldn't you like to know 🤨

yourusername: max ???

maxverstappen1: what? i didn't have friends growing up i like that you tell me secrets

yourusername: oh :(

maxverstappen1: you wanna tell me more?

yourusername: NO YOU ALREADY KNOW THE BIGGEST ONE

maxverstappen1: true 💅🏻

user45: so like the secret is defo a relationship right?

user46: do we think carlos knows?

user47: by the fact that he's not in these comments... probably not

user48: so like he looses his seat and finds out his sister is in a secret relationship? someone give the guy a break

user49: or maybe, just maybe, there's a reason that y/n hasn't told carlos and he's not the guy we all think he is

liked by charles_leclerc

user50: OH? this war is so on ....

f1teaspill

liked by user51, user52 and 31,845 others

tagged: yourusername & charles_leclerc

f1teaspill: the war at ferrari is heating up... turns out there's a lot carlos didn't know and FOR YEARS. yes, you're reading that right, y/n sainz and charles leclerc have been in a relationship for at least two years and believe us we have a VERY credible source like WITHIN THE FAMILY level source.

the most important thing about this whole relationship is how carlos did not know for years, so how much more was hidden from him? did y/n know about the seat swap for lewis? was she leaking strategies to charles? was she sabotaging her own brother?

view all comments

user53: OH SHITTTTTTTTTT

user54: cancel me if you will but i think the hottest couple in f1 just dropped

user55: the fact we've been robbed of content of them for years .... i'm angry I NEED THE POETRY ABOUT CHARLES

user56: i'm gonna need y/n or charles to drop all the pics in response

user57: y'all a source "within the family"? did these fools find out about y/n's relationship and immediately run to an f1 TEA PAGE???

user58: that's some goofy ass shit

user59: i find it funny that instead of sitting down and thinking about why their daughter/sister didn't feel comfortable enough to tell you about her relationship they're like i know EXACTLY who needs to hear this

user60: the way it's proved her completely right to not tell them

user61: do you guys think this is like a tv show or like fan fiction? in what world is y/n sharing strategies to fuck over her own BROTHER?

user62: also be for fucking real... strategies? ferrari? at least try and be realistic

user63: also.... walk with me .... why would y/n and charles conspire to put lewis hamilton in carlos' seat? LEWIS FUCKING HAMILTON AND SEVEN TIME WORLD CHAMPION? WHY WOULD CHARLES WANT TO TAKE HIM ON OVER A GUY HE'S ALREADY BEATEN TWICE

user64: see this is the point! sainz camp you can try and demonise charles and yOUR OWN DAUGHTER all you want but we all know it's bull shit

user65: one thing about this that really rubs me the wrong way is that the sainz camp clearly expected that if y/n was in a relationship with charles that she would've been a double agent for carlos? and because she's not fucking insane they're now going for character assassination of their own SISTER/DAUGHTER

user66: THIS THIS THIS

user67: carlos won't even consider y/n an "important" person in his life but expect her to sacrifice or exploit her relationship for cheap psychological points

user68: also y/n isn't even at most races so how is she getting carlos' strategies to give to charles? this shit doesn't make any sense

user69: carlos himself has said in an interview that y/n is useless when it comes to racing that she's just a supportive figure rather than someone who has any in depth racing knowledge

user70: this is insane level hating with all the evidence out here... and against your own family...

user71: this just makes me think that y/n wasn't in australia for a reason - like was she banned from carlos' garage

user72: and the fact she's been staying at max's it just makes me think that y/n was kicked out of her and carlos' apartment

user73: now tHATS INSANE

espnf1

liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen1 and 1,025,788 others

tagged: carlossainz55, charles_leclerc & yourusername

espnf1: well... this could be awkward

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user77: espn babe you're just like me

user78: *slides $5 across the bar* get a camera in the ferrari garage?

espnf1: we're working on it 😩

user79: pierre and max here... they really are the paddock gossip girls

maxverstappen1: i guess carlos couldn't handle that i knew who redacted was before him 🤷🏻‍♂️

carlossainz55: really?

maxverstappen1: don't put your sister on the streets and i won't dunk these jokes on your head

user80: is this like the official f1 civil war?

carlossainz55: you don't know anything max, i'd really keep your nose out of our business

maxverstappen1: i actually know exactly how you guys move, you tried it on 17 year old me and it becomes my business when my best friend calls me with no where else to go (also i know you changed the locks while you were in maranello so she wouldn't be able to go to charles, you're not slick)

carlossainz55: i never took you as a lap dog max

yourusername: calling him the lap dog when you're the biggest bitch on the grid - bold

carlossainz55: you're burning a lot of bridges for a talentless slut who had to start fucking my teammate when we cut you off

yourusername: keep throwing your PR to the fire and see who fucking hires you, i guess we'll both be unemployed bums

user80: also imagine calling her talentless like she isn't a well established poet LOL

user81: guys this is getting so bad so quickly

user82: we got the whole rest of the season of this

user83: mad respect to max for sticking up for his bestie

user84: and her actual boyfriend isn't?

yourusername: charles will do his talking on the track like he always does. he won't debase himself with bickering in instagram comments, funnily enough ferrari don't like that - might be the reason he still has a seat and someone doesn't

carlossainz55: or he's a pussy who has his woman talk for him

yourusername: at least he has a woman to talk for him, he doesn't behind his dad at any sign of trouble. i've always known i didn't matter to dad the moment i wasn't a boy but i'm not afraid of him or you and i know exactly how you work. good luck

user85: do they know we can all read this?

user86: when i'm in an oversharing contest and the sainz siblings walk in

user87: those ferrari debriefs are gonna be AWKWARD

yourusername: especially since he doesn't have binotto to hide behind any more

user88: girl you good?

yourusername: i've never been better, this has been building for years even before charles and i got together

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 908,487 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: i love you, it's ruining my life

view all comments

user89: y/n i'm gonna let you finish but we could really get the best poetry out of all of this

user90: for real like yeah i'm sorry your brother tried to make you homeless, exposed your relationship, accused you of treason and called you a talentless slut - but think of the poetry!

charles_leclerc: i love you and i hope you're okay

yourusername: i'll always be okay with you

charles_leclerc: it's out now and no one can take us away from each other

charles_leclerc: i'd actually love to see them try

yourusername: i'd go through this fortnight of hell over and over again if it meant i'd still keep you

charles_leclerc: i'd like to say this is the end of it but i think we're in for the long run now

yourusername: i'm prepared to go to war for you

charles_leclerc: there's no one i'd rather be on the front lines with

user91: oh brother... YOU'RE IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH A POET WE GET IT

charles_leclerc: * in love with

user91: oh my bad

charles_leclerc: no worries

user91: STILL GROSS BRO

liked by maxverstappen1

charles_leclerc: max ???

maxverstappen1: you guys need to calm down cause i'm not good with words and kelly is gonna start scrutinising my cards and i DO NOT HAVE THE VOCABULARY FOR IT

yourusername: lol

maxverstappen1: lol? LOL? did our brief yet forced stint as roommates mean nothing?

yourusername: fine i'll ghostwrite your valentines cards

user92: so this is all a bit melodramatic

user93: he CHANGED THE LOCKS BRO SHE HAS THE RIGHT TO BE MELODRAMATIC

liked by charles_leclerc

user94: okay so now we're in full blown f1 civil war - who is on each side?

user95: well max and pierre are on charles' side. i'd also add in lewis, seb, oscar, esteban, george, alex, yuki and daniel

user96: so carlos has lando and fernando?

fernandoalo_oficial: it might not be blood but that's my daughter

user96: ????

user97: did he just show up to diss carlos and then refuse to elaborate?

user98: sounds like a nando thing to do .... also just leaves carlos with lando lol

user99: this feels a bit unfair

yourusername: all is fair in love and poetry

fin.

note: so as soon as i had this idea (litr TTPD release day) i have been so busy and WHACKED with the worst writer's block but i hope this is a good start and rest assured knowing the beef will only get worse... I LOVE DRAMA

taglist: @aadu2173 @rhythmstars @kqliie @booksandflowrs @2bormaybenot @firelily-mimi @evie-119

I’m sorry but when the fuck did this happen?? Like he looks like he’s aged about 20 years but in the best way possible????😫😫😫😫

CHRIS PINE for Esquire Magazine (2023)

---

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

...

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

-

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 ♥️

-

y/n_username posted a photo!

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

...

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

-

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.

-

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

---

Absolutely love this babe, went through my likes trying to find it and did so I'm reblogging because I love it so much that I want to read it all the time and it's just incredible <3333

what do you think y/ns reaction to hearing the fans sing back the words to matilda would be like?🥺

Matilda Fan Project

Word Count: 1.1k

Category: Angst-ish, flufffff

Warning: Matilda lmfao

Summary: In which a fan project to show support for Y/N after Matilda happens during One Night Only in NYC.

i actually thought about that yesterday before sleeping 

.. 

Matilda was the anthem for family issues of all kinds. 

The moment everyone heard it, clear words accompanied by the soft music and Harry’s gentle voice, thousands and thousands of people could relate to it. 

But it was the realization that Harry wrote it for you that made fans even more emotional. You were a private person. Fans hardly knew much about your life and background except for the occasional Instagram posts you post, and many respected that you were not from the entertainment industry and so, it was why they felt like they could, to a level, relate to you.

The fandom was quick and clever, and TikTok and big Harry Instagram accounts had quite the reach. 

“THOSE GOING TO ONO!!!! FAN PROJECT IDEA!!!! since Matilda is about Y/N, get a sign and write “Y/N, YOU CAN LET IT GO” or “Y/N, WE LOVE YOU” or literally anything supportive and raise them up when Harry stars Matilda. Y/N has helped Harry and us in so many ways and deserves this more than anything. SPREAD THIS AROUND!!!” was the message that thousands of people shared around on every possible platform.

You were aware of the fans’ massive presence on social media, but not enough to have the algorithm deliver their fan project to you, especially when you hadn’t been on your phone for that much as you had instead celebrated Harry in more ways than virtual. 

“I don’t think they’ll know the words,” Harry said as he got ready go on stage, looking at you with a bashful smile. 

You rolled your eyes, “Not sure if you’re underestimating your fans or yourself,” you said, “And I mean,” you made a face, “You do know there was a leak so some definitely know the words,” you joked.

“Don’t remind me,” he chuckled. 

You smiled, caressing his face in your hands as you inched closer to him, letting him wrap his arms around your waist, smiling at you. “I’m really proud of you.”

Harry hummed, bashful as he leaned closer, grazing your lips with his, “I’m proud of you, too.”

“Stop it,” you whined a little, giggling, “I’m sharing my feelings right now.”

He almost melted–as he always felt whenever you expressed your feelings, though he would rather keep that to himself. 

“You’re an amazing artist, H. This is your baby you released, and I’ve seen the amount of work and dedication you put into it,” you said, “Thank you for letting me experience that with you.”

Harry took a breath in, closing his eyes as he brought you in for a hug, nuzzling his face in your neck. 

“I love you, yeah?” You said gently, giving his head a scratch. 

He nodded, pulling away to look at you, “I love you,” he repeated, “I wouldn’t have done it without you. This is yours as much as it’s mine.”

You pouted slightly before pressing your lips against his, a moment before he was announced to go on stage. 

Watching Harry live was always an indescribable experience. Not just for the fans who didn’t know him personally, but to you, too; someone who has seen him in all lights, who danced around with, who grieved with, and who loved him on his worst and best days. It was always a unique experience even if you knew every single song like it was your name.

You stood with Jeff and all your close friends in the VIP section, looking up at your boyfriend with nothing but admiration in the room full of those who understood you.

“The next song we’re gonna play for you is called Matilda,” he announced right before everyone screamed and cheered. “I guess it was written for a person–for my person,” he pointed at himself as he looked across the arena, “That I felt like needed to hear something,” he said.

Tears were already rolling down your cheeks and you put no effort into stopping because you knew that it was this very song that would trigger the waterworks. 

You were unaware of all the white signs being raised up in the air. Your hands were clutched together against your heart, eyes set on Harry only. 

“What is–” Harry paused, eyes going over the signs before his hands were on his face, throwing his head back in overwhelming emotions.

“Y/N,” Jeff called your name, eyes wide as he pointed at the big screen that zoomed in on a few fans.

Y/N, YOU CAN LET IT GO.

WE ARE A FAMILY THAT LOVES YOU, Y/N.

Y/N, YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE SORRY

Your hands were on your cheeks, full-on sobbing as you watched the camera move to show more signs of support.

Jeff wrapped an arm around you, a supportive smile on his face as he, too, looked at the screen.

Your eyes moved to Harry, seeing his own on you with a hand clutched to his heart before he raised his other hand to wipe his eyes, a small airy giggle leaving his lips against the mic.

You put your head in your hands for a second, taking a deep breath before looking back up and turning around to the fans, putting your hands against your heart as you looked at a few different faces of screaming fans. “I love you,” you mouthed, “I love you. Thank you.” 

You shook your head in disbelief, finally allowing yourself to sit down on the floor as you were overwhelmed with the thousands of rushing feeling coursing through. 

“I’m honored,” Harry spoke into the mic, looking around, “To have you in my life,” the entire arena shook with screams as he, with tearful eyes, looked around, reading the many signs, “Thank you for loudly loving the person I love–I admire,” he corrected himself, speaking along the screams, “Y/N,” he addressed you, looking down at you with a soft smile as you tearfully looked up at him, “This is for you. It always is,” Harry said, “And if there’s anyone in the audience tonight that feels like this applies to them,” he looked around again, “It does. This is for you as well. This is Matilda.”

You couldn’t sing along. 

The moment Harry began singing Matilda live and the moment the fans started screaming the lyrics back at him was a moment that would forever be engraved in your mind. Your back was leaning against the partition, eyes closed as you allowed every lyric to get soaked and absorbed. 

Liked by harrystyles and other

yourinstagram i started a family who will always show me love because of you. i love you. and i love every single one of you. i haven’t been able to stop crying. thank you.

View all 19,937 comments

harrystyles Strongest person I know. I love you. 

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.

---

⋆˙⟡ rafe cameron plinks ₊⊹

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ you have to have twitter downloaded and you must be signed in to view these links, otherwise it won’t work!

୨ৎ rafe plays with your pussy after a long day

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mamma mia | formula one social media au

drivers: sebastian vettel, jenson button and fernando alonso

what the hell is in the water in greece? why are pregnancy tests so expensive and why does seb name his vehicles like that?

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by maxverstappen1, aussiegrit and 803,450 others

location: greece

fernandoalo_oficial: had a great break in greece recharging the old batteries 🔋

view all comments

user1: old man who is this woman?

landonorris: who taught you to soft launch grandpa?

fernandoalo_oficial: hey! respect your elders

landonorris: you just called yourself old? and WHO IS THIS?

fernandoalo_oficial: none of your damn business kid

user2: why is he particularly dilfy lately?

user3: he's approaching silver fox territory i fear

jensonbutton: i see that greece was a popular spot for wold champions this break?

fernandoalo_oficial: i also saw, sad not to bump into you old friend :(

maxverstappen1: where was my invite ???

jensonbutton: cool world champions only

lewishamilton: excuse me?

fernandoalo_oficial: idk what to tell you it wasn't planned, me, jenson and sebastian just have good taste

sebastianvettel: i see mary goodnight was appreciated

fernandoalo_oficial: yes thank you for lending me your boat, huge hit with the ladies

sebastianvettel: very happy with my choice to get it deep cleaned before i got there

fernandoalo_oficial: first of all, i'm not dirty. second of all, thanks for the faith in my game big man

user4: i am so confused by this comment section I DID NOT WANT TO KNOW ALONSO FUCKED ON SEB'S BOAT ???

yourusername

liked by yourbff, oliviarodrigo and 1,340.987 others

tagged: yourbff

yourusername: (sober) brunch with a side of light baby daddy investigation

view all comments

user7: only y/n would end up in a mamma mia situation, stay strong

yourusername: omg i didn't even realise, but donna was always a bad bitch, so i will just be the same

user8: i can't believe i am watching a girl investigate her own baby daddies on the internet (i love this place)

yourbff: if we can't find the lucky men, at least they'll have a cool ass aunt

yourusername: all fun and games until you have to change a nappy

user9: i'm enjoying this saga, BUT, why can't we just wait and do a paternity test

yourusernmae: i still need to know them to do that... and being nosey is far more fun

user10: all i'm thinking is this girl has to have GAME for three dilfs in the span of like three days... RESPECT 🫡

user11: i am so invested in this... please be interesting people 🤞

jensonbutton

liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoalo_oficial and 401,330 others

jensonbutton: back on sky duty and bumped into a couple of familiar faces

view all comments

user12: who let these old men talk about their sex lives on a live broadcast?

user13: i am entertained tbf

user14: obsessed with both needing to reinforce the fact that they pulled in greece

user15: i need seb to jump in on this conversation ASAP

fernandoalo_oficial: not happy with you pinning all of my success on seb's boat mate

jensonbutton: was it all your charming personality?

fernandoalo_oficial: obviously

sebastianvettel: i can confirm that it's always all the boat

jensonbutton: is that a confession?

sebastianvettel: gentleman don't kiss and tell x

charles_leclerc: jesus christ and we're the generation ruining the sport?

jensonbutton: f1 has always been slutty, you guys are letting us down

maxverstappen1: clearly you guys are still active enough to keep up the reputation yourselves

sebastianvettel

liked by charles_leclerc, jensonbutton and 902,180 others

sebastianvettel: retirement is looking fun, glad to take mary goodnight out for her first spin

view all comments

user21: did he just say mary goodnight? SEB WHAT?

user22: omfg he is potential baby daddy two??

charles_leclerc: so seb got a bit too lucky in greece?

user23: CHARLES?

user24: i am losing my mind they were right, they are the baby daddies

user25: i knew as soon as she said a nando with a samurai tattoo

user26: @yourusername he's number two !!!!!

user27: @yourusername we found him, boat and all

landonorris: YOU'RE POTENTIAL BABY DADDY TWO SEB WHAT THE FUCK

sebastianvettel: i don't understand lando

landonorris: check your texts

user28: don't forget the others lando

landonorris: @fernandoalo_oficial check your texts (and forward it to jenson i don't have his number)

fernandoalo_oficial: okay?

yourusername: WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

user29: i think someone needs to check on her

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoalo_oficial and 1,509,600 others

yourusername: i hot girl summer-ed a bit too close to the sun, what do you mean the three dilfs were f1 world champions?

comments are turned off on this post

sebastianvettel followed yourusername

fernandoalo_oficial followed yourusername

jensonbutton followed yourusername

note: AHHHHHH? idk if i love it or hate it? do i know who i plan on being the dad? no. but do i plan on expanding on this? yes. mamma mia chaos will return.

LOVE IT🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

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

-

first stop: ireland

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

...

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

-

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

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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

-

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.''

...

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😭

-

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

-

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.

...

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

-

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.

-

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

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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

-

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

---

I'm A Matchmaker, Baby - Ollie Bearman, Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen

Words: 4,123 Summary: After Saudi Arabia, Charles fully takes Ollie under his wing, he is his son after all, which leads to Ollie having dinner with the Monaco royal family and meeting the most beautiful girl in the world, the princess of Monaco. Note(s): This is also a Lestappen fic, Max and Charles get together and are together in this fic. They ended up playing a huge part in this fic, so be warned. Also the title is what it is because I can just hear Charles say it.

Masterlist | Support Me! 

Charles had always wanted children. He had wanted children nearly as long as he had wanted to be a Ferrari Formula One driver. He had never expected to be a father this young. But he was and his heart was full because of it.

He wasn’t Ollie’s father on paper or biologically, but what did that matter when it came to the heart and in Charles’ heart, he is Ollie’s father. He already felt something for the young driver, but then Saudi Arabia happened and Ollie had followed him around the Ferrari garage, all polite as he asked his questions, eyes filled with awe and determination. Something had settled in him then. The realization hit only after the race as he waited for the press conference and saw the number of tweets greeting him.

They all were praising Ollie, comparing the two, saying how much Ollie and him were alike. It wasn’t the first time he had heard such things. Arthur had remarked it once, so had Jock, but he hadn’t thought much of it. But now as he scrolled and scrolled and saw the comparisons that fans had made, he couldn’t help but compare them as well. They were quite similar. From the tracks they both liked and performed well at, the love for Ferrari, they both couldn’t cook for shit apparently, and there was even more.

The thing that really got him, a well of fondness striking his heart, was Ollie already talking to someone about this weekend and how when jumping into Carlos’ car for FP3 he struggled with the wheel because he always used Charles’ set up at the factory. It was like it never occurred to him in the near four years he had been with the Ferrari academy to even think of trying another driver’s set up.

“He did well.” A shoulder brushes against his, tehir voice just barely above a murmur.

Charles closes out of his twitter, smiling. “He did very well. Better than Ferrari was expecting.”

He huffs out a laugh, the press of their shoulders becoming firmer. “He really does take after you then.”

A pink blush forms on his cheeks, but he can’t help but beam, pride so quickly filling him. He only seemed to have Ollie for a day, but he would happily kill anyone and anything that would hurt him. “He does. He was amazing during the race, no? Finishing seventh.”

“It’s too bad Lewis is a sure thing. Ollie already seems to be ready for the Ferrari seat.”

If it was anyone else, he would think that they were fishing and if it was anyone else he wouldn’t bother responding, but it was Max. Max had never shared things he said, not when they were matters of the heart or private or even just a bit personal.

“There are things in place. But Ollie would like to do a year in the back or midfield at least before stepping up.”

Max hums, eyebrows furrowed, considering. “Even after this? And what if Carlos isn’t ready for Australia?”

Charles hesitates, eyes darting around, as he thinks of the meeting he has to attend after this to discuss just that.

“Later?” Max offers.

“Later.” He agrees, nodding.

“Nightcap in my room?”

The word yes is on the tip of his tongue, he hates the idea of passing it up, but he shakes his head. “I want to spend some time with Ollie. It was a big day for him. I already plan on getting dinner with him, talking, making sure he is all okay. If you are still up after, perhaps I could stop by?”

Max smiles, eyes crinkling. “You are welcome anytime, of course, Charlie. I’ll have a spare key waiting for you at the front desk or you can always just knock.”

“Thank you, Max.”

Max’s smile grows bigger and he squeezes Charles’ shoulder, once, twice, then three times. “Of course.”

—

Charles leans against the door frame watching as Andrea leads Ollie through the last of his cooldown stretches. His neck was surely hurting and it would be worse tomorrow, but he could see the sheen of cream that Andrea had used on him at the beginning of his F1 career, still did if it had been a practically hard race. And if he knew Andrea which he did, he already knew that there was an extra one in his bag to give to Ollie.

“Hello.” He greets when Ollie finishes his last stretch, straightening with a small groan.

“Charles!” Ollie grins, eyes brightening.

He catches Andrea shaking his head from the corner of his eye, but there’s a fond smile on the older man’s face. “I’ve finished with my meeting, are you ready for dinner?”

Charles fears for a moment his head will come off with how eagerly Ollie shakes it.

They go to a small restaurant, Italian, that Andrea had found for Charles.

Siding into the booth seats, Charles watches, amused, as Ollie looks around with interest, fingers fiddling with his menu.

“I’ve been coming here since the race was introduced. It is nice, no?”

Ollie nods, “it is. Reminds me a bit of…” he trails off and Charles knows what he’s thinking.

“A bit. The owner, her mother, is Italian.”

“Ah.”

Opening the menu, Charles eyes glimpse over it already knowing what he’s going to get, fingers drumming against the table for a moment.

“You did very well during the race, Ollie.”

The boy’s face turns red, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “I could have done better.”

Charles shakes his head. “You got one free practice session, managed to qualify ahead of a seven time world champion and a McLaren. You didn’t damage the car and finished in the points. You did fantastic. And you had to get used to a new wheel set up.”

Ollie sputters a bit at the last part.

“It’s just, why would I-” he cuts himself off.

“Why would you what?” Charles asks, staring at him.

“Why would I bother with Carlos’ when yours is there? I mean he’s fine, been nothing nice to me, but you are Ferrari. I wanted to join the academy partially because of you. You’re one of the best of the current generation. And you always let me, let anyone of us bother you with questions.”

“It’s never a bother.” Charles corrects as he thinks of the other Ferrari Driver Academy drivers that sometimes message him with a question or always ask when they see him if he can look over their lap times for a second, which he of course does if he isn’t busy.

“And that! You’re so nice about it. I know Dino once messaged you at three am on accident drunk and you sent a car to get him.”

Charles frowns, “Of course I did. He was in a country he had never been in before and drunk enough to text me. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep if I didn’t know he got back to his hotel okay.”

Ollie groans and then he’s leaning forward, head hitting the table with a loud thunk that has Charles hissing and pushing at Ollie’s shoulder until he raises his head enough for Charles to look at his forehead.

It’s slightly red and Charles frowns, moving his hand to rub gently at the center of the redness.

“Ollie,” he scolds. “You have to be careful. Your neck has gone through enough strain today. And I don’t know if you should risk hitting your head.”

“It’s fine, dad.” Ollie mumbles, pushing Charles hand away to rub at the spot himself before turning an impressive shade of red.

Charles watches, a beam on his face, as Ollie tries to speak again, saying the word dad again before managing to say the first part of his name.

“You get this from your uncle Lorenzo.”

And that just sends Ollie into another sputter of words that don’t make sense.

He drops off Ollie at his hotel room a few hours later, giving him a hug and putting more cream on his neck, before reminding him that Andrea or him will do it again in the morning before or after breakfast depending on how his neck is feeling.

He stops at his own hotel room to grab his carry-on, his regular suitcase already with Joris before going up two floors and knocking on a hotel room door.

“Charles.” Max greets, eyes crinkling as he smiles before he draws him for a hug.

“Hello.” He presses a kiss to Max’s cheek and ignores the way his own cheeks turn pink as well Max’s from the gesture.

Stepping into the room, he moves further in, setting his carry on by the bed, before collapsing on it, his lips stretching into a smile as he thinks of his dinner with Ollie.

“You are very happy.” Max comments, laying next to him.

“I am. I am very happy.” He breathes. “I’m a dad, Max.” Saying the words out loud, makes his grin grow.

“You-” Max coughs, “you’re a what?”

“A dad, a papa. I do not know the Dutch word for it.”

Max says the Dutch word for dad instantly, like he always does when Charles makes a comment about not knowing the Dutch word for something. “Thank you.” He says, repeating what Max said.

Max clears his throat after a moment and Charles turns his head to look at Max and is surprised to see pain in the blue eyes he likes looking into so much and there’s an unsure expression on Max’s face. His body is still turned towards Charles, but he’s closed off, arms over his chest.

“What is wrong?” Charles asks, concern dripping from his words.

“How old?”

He blinks at him, struggling with the question. “How old is what?”

“The baby. How old is the baby? I mean has it been born?”

Charles stares at him, slightly dumbfounded, because what language was Max speaking? It couldn’t be English.

Then it hits him, his breath of happiness, of him saying he’s a dad.

“No, no!” He scrambles upwards before leaning over Max, hands cupping the barely older’s face. “It is not a baby. I’m talking about Ollie, chérie. I am his dad. Twitter was going on and on about it and then at dinner, oh, Max.” He sighs. “He called me dad.”

The hurt vanishes from Max’s face at his words, cheeks a touch pink from the way Charles is touching him, from the name he called him.

“You two are alike.” He offers before softening further as Charles’ thumbs start to stroke his cheekbones.

“I’m sure you are an amazing dad.”

Charles beams at him. “I hope so. Ollie had to learn Carlos’ wheel setup.”

Max snorts at the whisper. “I see Ollie is part of the Charles Leclerc is the best club.”

Charles flushes, “well you would know.”

He smiles, his fingers finding Charles’ waist. “Yes, I would. It would be poor if the president of the club didn’t know all the members.”

“Max.”

“Charles.”

“Kiss me finally.”

The sheer want on Max’s face has Charles letting out a whine.

“I won’t keep you a secret if we do that Charles. I can’t cross that line.”

Charles shakes his head, “I would never ask you to.” And he finally says, reveals, let outs, the conversation he had before signing his new contract, his one of many non-negotiables. “Ferrari knows. John threw his full support behind me after I called him. They ask for three to six months, just to get things in place, protection. I know, it’s still a secret, but I just have to message them and they set things in motion.” He rambles.

“Charles,” Max breathes, cutting him off and shaking his head. “You talked to Ferrari about us?”

He ducks his head, flushing. “I’m tired of not having all of you, of not getting to say that I’m yours and you are mine. I want more than glances and fleeting touches. I want to be consumed by you. I couldn’t do another year of not knowing what it felt like to feel your hands on my bare skin, to feel your lips on mine. I couldn’t do it.”

Max stares up at him, throat bobbing and there’s a gentle pressure on the back of his neck. “I love you so much.”

And Charles is unable to respond, the lips on his preventing it and he can’t even try to be angry about it as he happily kisses, gets kissed by, Max for the first time.

—

Charles knows that having booked a private room for breakfast the next morning makes it seem like what happened with Max was planned, but thankfully Max knows him. He knows that Charles most mornings on race weekends likes to have breakfast in private, especially if he still is there the next day after the race. Wants to start his day with some peace and be surrounded by his choice of people. Max has never made it to one of these breakfasts before and this is Ollie’s first as well.

Entering the room, and it was nice that only did the hotel have a good restaurant in it but also let you rent out rooms just to eat, hand in hand with Max, he smiles at Ollie, spotting him first, giving Max’s hand a squeeze before letting it go and moving to pull Ollie into a quick hug.

He nearly presses bisous to his cheeks, as he does with all the people he thinks of as family or close to it in greeting, but he doesn’t know if Ollie would be comfortable with it, so he settles for just squeezing him a bit tighter.

Andrea gets greeted with a squeeze to the shoulder as the trainer sips at a cup of coffee, Joris the same, though he has to dodge an elbow to his side, which makes him laugh.

He goes to Pierre after, giving him bisous and getting them in return before his friend looks behind him where Max must be, his eyebrow raising slightly.

Charles flushes, “we are together now, Pierre.”

“Well, I had no doubts about that. You are glowing. I just can’t tell if it’s from finally getting together with Max, becoming a parent, or both.”

“Both. Have you spoken to Ollie?”

Pierre shakes his head.

“You’ll love him and you can go maybe get a head start on being his favorite uncle behind Arthur.”

He scoffs, “as if Arthur could be a better uncle than me.”

“Well, he has a head start.”

Pierre mutters under his breath as he heads over to where Ollie is awkwardly standing and Charles returns to Max’s side, intertwining their fingers and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Pierre gunning for favorite uncle?”

Charles smiles at the question, unable to help himself from pressing another kiss to Max’s cheek. “Yes.

"He’ll get a leg up on Lorenzo, but Arthur is fairly ahead of them both.”

He hums, turning his head to capture Charles’ lips in a short kiss. “At least Vic will be favorite Aunt. Two of them will have to deal with not being the favorite.”

“That’ll be bloody.” Charles scoffs, he still had a scar on his lower back from when Lorenzo and him had roughhoused.

Their mother had been distraught when she had seen the blood, horrified. Their father hadn’t been happy about it but had easily come to terms with being an accident. Poor Arthur had refused to leave him alone, clinging to him as he had been there, though playing on their shared DS.

Jules though… despite having been Lorenzo’s best friend, he had been taken with Charles as soon as he first held him. It had been a joke between Jules’ parents and his to make Jules his godfather, but Jules had latched on to the idea, despite Lorenzo’s protests about Jules liking a gross baby, and by the time Charles was a year old, Jules happily held the title of godfather to Charles.

“You know you won’t win favorite dad with Ollie, right?”

Max smiles, soft and slightly amused. “I know.” His eyes flicker over to where Pierre is talking to Ollie.

Andrea and Joris having their own discussion, though all of their eyes flicker to where Charles and Max are standing.

“And you are okay with that?” There’s a hint of disbelief in his voice.

“Charles,” Max laughs. “You’re the only one I’ve ever been okay with winning instead of me. And I, of course, can’t be upset that Ollie thinks the world of you, and will see you as his favorite.”

The barely younger has to blink back tears, “You say the sweetest things, cherie.”

“Only for you, Charlie. Only for you.”

—

“Are you sure I should be coming with you?”

Charles sends him a look and Ollie can’t help but duck his head. “It is for family and I have a good relationship with them. I could bring fifty people and say they are family and it would be okay. And you are family.” He gently cuffs Ollie’s ear. “Max will be coming too.”

“Even after?”

“Yes, even after.”

Ollie doesn’t bother asking how Charles has a custom suit that fits him perfectly, it’s just who Charles and even Max are, though Max doesn’t do any clothes shopping, it’s either sponsored clothing or now things that Charles buys him.

In the car ride to the palace, Max tells him the names of the royal family. And Ollie repeats them over and over again in his head.

“Why won’t Gabriella and Jacques be there?” Ollie asks again, thinking of the youngest two children.

“This is technically a publicity dinner, though it is private. They are only nine, Albert and Charlene are very protective. Next time we are in Monaco there will be a lunch and they will be there for that.”

“But Y/N will be there?”

“Yes.” Charles nods. “She is your age and this is private, but she is not set to inherit the throne.”

“But, a girl could inherit. Gabriella is.” Ollie remembers that much for Max’s rambles about different royal families and their workings.

“Yes, though she is behind Jacques since he was born first, though they are twins. Y/N isn’t interested in being the heir apparent, she currently does such duties and is willing to step up if neither of her siblings want to take the title.”

“Jacques is slightly keen on it, I imagine that Gabriella will be the one to take it.” Max chimes in.

Ollie watches amused as Charles and Max begin to playfully bicker about the siblings though it’s clear that Charles thinks the same as Max.

The car rolls to a stop and Ollie has to take a deep breath before exiting the car after Charles. He watches as the prince greets him warmly, giving him a hug before Charlene does and then Ollie’s breath catches a girl, his age, envelopes Charles into a hug.

They’ve clearly met and know each other well with the way Charles beams at her and her back and he can just hear Charles asking her about something before his attention is drawn away by Max introducing him to Prince Albert.

Ollie ducks his head, extending his hand out. “It’s an honor to meet you, Prince Albert.”

The prince lets out a chuckle, shaking his hand. “You as well, Ollie. But you can just call me Albert. No need for formalities, not when you are Charles’ son.”

Ollie flushes at the words, but flashes a pleased grin.

“And Max, it’s always good to see you.” Albert cheers, bringing in the world champion for a hug.

“You as well, Albert.”

Charlene greets him much quieter than Albert, though she immediately insists on him not referring to her as princess. “It is lovely to meet you. Charles and Max have both talked about you.”

“Oh, thank you. They’ve both talked about you as well, you and your family.”

“Max and Charles are kind.”

He nods in agreement.

“Ollie,” Charles calls and he instantly turns to look at him. “I want you to meet, Princess Y/N.”

“Please, just call me Y/N.” She immediately says with a shake of her head, before extending a hand out.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ollie.”

He can feel himself turning red as they shake hands, her eyes on him and even just the slightest touch of their fingers and palms. “You as well.”

—

“So Ollie,” Charles murmurs, the words nearly a slur from sleep and the many drinks he had.

Max pulls Charles tighter, nosing at his wet hair, happy that even this drunk it was easy to get Charles to take one, get rid of the stench of the clubs they had been in. “Yeah, he definitely likes Y/N.”

“Oh, thank god. She clearly likes him. I mean did you see her at dinner and then at Jimmy’z? She was so flustered. She confused her silverware. She hasn’t done that once in the near eight years I’ve known her.”

“Charles,” Max warns, already knowing where this is headed and he just knows he’s not going to hear the end of this when they wake up in a few hours, hungover and eager to indulge in greasy food before a workout. “Don’t play matchmaker.”

He can feel his pout against his collarbone, before he’s moving until he’s entirely on top of him and Max lets out a silent oof as Charles’ elbows knock against his ribs, but his hands follow along, eagerly wrapping his arms around him and pulling him until he’s pressed completely against him.

“But babe.”

Max flushes at the pet name. “Go to sleep, Charles. Think about it in the morning.” His eyes slip shut as he realizes what he just said, a silent fuck leaving his mouth

Charles wiggles against him, a beam pressed against his cheek. “I knew you’d help me! Yes, we will talk after we sleep. I’m thinking a lot of flowers and my yacht. They’ll love it.”

“Mhmm.” Max says, “let’s go to bed.”

“Okay. Love you, chérie.”

“Love you too.”

—

Stepping onto the yacht, Ollie gives a smile to the older gentleman that Charles hires to drive the yacht when he’s not feeling up to it or knows he’s going to be drinking.

“Hi Nicholas.”

“Good afternoon, Ollie.” His lips twitch into a smile. “Your father has asked that you go below until we are at sea.”

“He has a surprise for me, doesn’t he?”

Nicholas shrugs, “I’m unaware of any surprise.”

Ollie groans that was definitely a yes.

Despite that, he goes below deck, settling nicely into the hammock that is there despite the much better and cozier one that is above.

It’s over thirty minutes before Charles sends him a text telling him to come up.

Getting out of the hammock, he jogs up the stairs and over to the part of the deck where they always eat. He nearly skids to a stop however when he sees a massive amount of flowers and his breath catches, the princess.

“Princess Y/N, I had no idea.” He runs a hand through his hair and tries to not think about the t-shirt he is wearing.

She quickly stands, nearly tipping forward, but he quickly grabs her, keeping her upright. She smiles,

“Ollie, it’s nice to see you again. Did Charles message you about lunch as well?”

He smiles back at her, heart beating a little faster. “Yeah. Have you seen him?”

Her eyebrows press together, “I thought he was down below. That’s what Nicholas said.”

“Nicholas told me to wait down below until we were at sea. Charles texted me telling me to come up here.”

Ollie’s cheeks flush and his hands that were still resting on her drop, something he can’t help but mourn a little. “I think I know why he isn’t here, but we are.”

“Oh?”

He nearly gulps, hands feeling a little sweaty. “At the dinner, I was a bit flustered.”

She lets out a small laugh. “Most people are at dinner with my parents, especially my father.”

“I was nervous.” He tells her. “But, I was flustered because of you. I mean, you’re so beautiful.”

“Oh.” She blinks before her head ducks down. “I was flustered as well.”

A smile pulls at his lips at the quiet whisper. “Really?”

“Yes. I mean, I used my table fork instead of my salad fork. I haven’t done that since I was maybe ten.”

“I really made you flustered.”

“Unbelievably so.” She laughs.

“Shall we have this lunch that Charles put together? Maybe plan another lunch or dinner for after this?”

“I’d love that.”