Pillowtalk (w2s X Reader)

pillowtalk (w2s x reader)

warnings: smut smut smut

the video.

you loved your boyfriend. he was it for you. and not in the fleeting, butterfly way. not a crush that faded when things got difficult. no—he was the one you could scream at and argue with and then fall asleep tangled in the same sheet an hour later. the one who knew exactly how you liked your tea, exactly how to get under your skin, and exactly how to worship every inch of your body like it was the only language he spoke.

and oh, my god. he was the best sex you'd ever had. hands down. absolutely zero contest. you’d look at him and think he was very vanilla, but the way he fucked you? slow, deep, possesive—like he was trying to carve his name into your bones and remind you exactly who you belonged to. it made you feral.

so when he asked you—on camera, during a truth or drink sidemen video, the prick—“have you ever faked an orgasm with me?” and you didn’t say no like he expected you to… you picked up your shot of tequila, knocked it back, and put the glass down like you were putting a final nail in a coffin.

trust, he was good at pleasing you. the things he could do with his tongue... jesus. the man was skilled. it was just that one time. to be honest, it wasn't even his fault. you were just tired, your head wasn't in it, and you just didn't want him to feel bad. so, you faked a few shaky breaths, moaned out his name, and smiled through the guilt. and that was it. one time. forgotten.

"it was just that one time—i wasn't in the mood, y'know? stop laughing, jj." you tried to surpress your giggles because of the look on harry's face.

you thought that was the end of it. one shot. one simple, honest answer. the boys were already laughing and moving on—ethan reading the next question with a shit-eating grin, jj still laughing like he usually did.

but harry?

harry was staring. he didn't laugh. didn't even crack a smile. he sat back, eyebrows slightly raised, lips twitching like he was trying to solve a maths problem. his whole expression unreadable. way too quiet for harry.

the rest of the video felt long. every time he laughed, every time he smiled or chimed in, you could feel the weight of his attention still hanging off you. he didn’t say much after that, just finished the game with a casual shrug, fingers drumming on the table.

the car ride.

it was so fucking quiet. not in an awkward way. no tension between you as people—you were fine. it was fine.

but it was so quiet.

harry's eyes were on the road, hand steady on the wheel. the only sounds were the low hum of the engine, and the occasional turn signal.

but you could feel him.

feel his gaze flicker over to you at red lights. feel the way his fingers tapped restlessly against the steering wheel. feel the heat simmering between you, hotter by the second.

so, you broke the silence. "what's going on in that pretty head of yours, hm? you're awfully quiet."

his knuckles tightened on the wheel. "hm? nothing. just... thinking."

"about what?" you turned your knees slightly towards him, now looking at his absolutely flawless side profile.

"you know what." his jaw clenched, a small smirk on his face.

you rolled your eyes. "haz, you're still on that? it was just a game. i don't even remember when it happ—"

he didn't look at you. "i'm just trying to figure out how i missed it."

"babe, come on. it was years ago, harry. you didn't do anything wrong. it wasn't about you. i swear." you laughed, reaching over to rub his knee as reassurement.

he looked down, and then up again. after a few moments of silence, he spoke, his voice lower. "i don't want you to feel like you have to perform with me."

"baby. it was one time. it's so insignificant that i don't even remember when it happened." you leaned over and brushed a soft kiss on his cheek.

after you reached home.

the front door clicked shut behind you with a soft thud, and that was it. the match dropped.

he didn’t speak. just watched as you kicked off your shoes and turned toward him, still trying to act normal—casual—like your heart wasn’t hammering in your chest.

you opened your mouth to say something—

but he was on you.

mouth crashing to yours, hands gripping your waist hard enough to bruise. you stumbled back into the wall with a thud, gasping against his lips, his body crowding yours, warm and solid and desperate.

"fuckin' hell, y/n," he muttered against your mouth, kissing you like he was trying to devour your soul. "i'm losing my fucking mind."

“didn’t think you’d spiral this hard,” you breathed.

his hand curled around your jaw, thumb dragging across your bottom lip. "i’ve been replaying every sound you’ve made with me in my head. every fucking moan. every breath. trying to figure out which one was a lie.” his voice dropped. “you realise how mental that is?”

you swallowed, chest rising and falling fast.

he tilted your chin up. “so now i’m gonna make sure there’s no confusion.”

before you could even react, his hands reached the back of your thighs, and he picked you up in a go. a gasp slipped from your lips as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, the pressure of his hard-on pressing firmly against your core through the thin barrier of your clothes. the contact drew a soft whimper from your throat—needy and unfiltered.

harry smirked against your skin. "that all for me, love?" he murmured, his voice rough as his mouth found your neck for the millionth time.

you just whined in response and grabbed his hair, latching your lips onto his again. he chuckled lowly, and carried you to the bedroom door, throwing it open.

he kicked the door shut behind him with a thud that echoed, not that either of you noticed—too lost in the haze of each other, barely making it two steps before tossing you onto the mattress like you weighed nothing. you bounced once, breath catching as you pushed yourself up on your elbows.

he climbed on top of you, hovering for a moment as he tried to take in your presence, his fingers trailing under the hem of your top.

that's it. you couldn't take it anymore.

"goddamn it, harry." you surged up and yanked his shirt over his head in one go, fingers fumbling in your haste, lips catching his halfway through. it was teeth and tongue and heat, and all of it tinged with frustration.

"a little bit impatient there, huh?" he laughed as he tugged your top over your head and tossed it somewhere behind him, already reaching for your jeans.

“can you blame me?” you huffed, breath shaky as you wriggled out of them, your hands everywhere—his neck, his shoulders, everywhere. "you've been staring at me with bedroom eyes all day long, bruv."

harry laughed under his breath—low and rough—as he popped the button of your jeans and slid them down—along with your underwear— in one swift movement, eyes trailing down the length of you like he hadn’t seen you naked a thousand times before.

you bit your lip, cheeks flushed, eyes flickering down for a moment before dragging back up to meet his. your hands moved slowly to his belt, fingers slipping beneath the leather and tugging with careful urgency—like you couldn’t bear another second but also wanted to savour it.

you pulled it free in one smooth motion, letting it drop off the side of the bed with a soft thud. your fingers didn’t falter—next came the button of his jeans, the slow drag of the zip. you felt him twitch beneath your touch, felt the tension ripple through his abdomen.

“you’re killing me, babe,” he muttered, voice low, reverent, as he watched your hands work.

“good,” you whispered, slipping your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and sliding everything down in one go. he kicked them off without looking, never taking his eyes off you.

there he was: all of him, exposed to you, his cock thick and flushed, already dripping with need. your breath hitched in your throat, eyes tracing over every inch of him. the way his muscles tightened under his skin, the deep v of his hips leading to his hard length. It was almost too much.

you reached out, wrapping your fingers around his cock, feeling the heat of him in your hand. you could feel the veins throbbing beneath your touch, his length heavy and solid in your palm. "please fuck me," you whimpered.

he let out a ragged breath, his hands immediately grabbing at your legs, pulling you to him as he knelt between your thighs. and just like that, he leaned forward, pushing your legs apart as he aligned himself with your entrance. his eyes flickered to yours, a silent question. you nodded, breathless, barely able to form a sentence.

harry didn’t need another word. he sank into you in one deliberate thrust, his cock filling you, stretching you in the best possible way. you gasped at the sensation, your back arching off the bed, and he groaned in response, his hand sliding to your hip to hold you in place.

jesus, even after years of being together, you were still caught off guard by his size every single time. “god,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, as he stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust to him. “you feel fucking perfect.”

harry didn’t waste another moment. he withdrew slightly, then slammed back into you with force, making you gasp as your body jolted from the impact. his pace was immediate, fast, relentless—he wasn’t holding back. every thrust sent waves of pleasure through you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

you moaned out his name as your hands scrambled for purchase on his back, digging your nails into his skin. you gasped as you tried to meet each of his thrusts, your body working in perfect sync with his. there was no gentleness in this; there didn’t need to be. after all these years, neither of you held back anymore.

he gripped your legs tighter, pushing them up and apart to get even deeper, his hips snapping against yours with brutal force. every thrust hit you at the perfect angle, his cock filling you so completely that you could barely breathe. "oh my god, harry!"

you gasped, hips bucking as the familiar pressure started to build again in your core. the pace didn’t slow—if anything, harry pushed harder, faster, making sure you didn’t have time to catch your breath. his hands were everywhere—on your hips, your chest, your throat—as he fucked you like he owned you.

you felt your orgasm rise up, sudden and overwhelming. the sensation spread through every inch of you, every nerve firing at once as you came hard around him, screaming his name as you tightened around his cock. your whole body trembled, the force of it making your vision blur for a moment.

but harry didn’t stop. he was relentless, chasing his own high now, his pace never wavering as he fucked you through your orgasm. the tension was unbearable, and just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he thrust into you with a final, deep stroke, groaning your name as he came hard inside you, his release spilling deep, filling you completely.

you both collapsed in the aftershocks of your highs, your body limp and trembling beneath him, as he kissed your neck, his breath ragged.

"oh my god," you heaved, recovering from your orgasm. "oh love, we're not done."

SHOW ME

Summary: While getting for a date night, Bucky, your stepdad, gives you the perfect validation you need. But, the two of you know that you don’t need any.

Pairings: Beefy!Stepdad!Bucky x reader (any race)

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: mdni, rough sex, pussy worshipping, oral sex (female receiving), size kink, fingering, cussing, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, choking, stepcest, cheating, name calling (daddy, whore, cumslut, you know the usual), age gap (reader is 23 and Bucky is in his early 40s or late 30s), heavy degradation with a sprinkle of praise, marking kink, choking kink, mild mirror stuff.

Author’s Note: So this happened. Hope you guys enjoy it and don’t forget to reblog and comment. I love hearing what all of you have to say about my work.

Thanks to @theluxuriousfangirl @ashfaceiwa @commonintrest @bucky-barnes-diaries @maladaptivexxdaydreaming for helping mw with this

DO NOT PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, TRANSLATE OR DO ANY OF THAT CHEAP SHIT.

moodboard by my bestie @commonintrest

A date night is all you intended the night you finally had time for yourself to be. A night where you would potentially be meeting someone who would have the privilege for you to call them ‘the one’ and if it doesn’t go well, at least you would be getting some good considering you decided to meet somewhere you would enjoy. This was your night for you to finally focus on yourself and do the first thing that your heart desires without thinking if you were free or had work to do later. Just like the rest of the house.

It was a night for everyone to unwind, with you on your date, your mother off with her friends, and Bucky- your stepfather- doing whatever it is that he does. You never really knew what exactly he would do while he was not held up with work, it was not something of your interest anyways.

Even though Bucky was very much a part of what you were very interested in.

Living with your mother’s husband, while you were away from college and back home, was almost like living with a roommate that you never really bonded with but you knew him even though there never really was anything spoken between the two of you ever since he had moved in while you were 21.

Just short conversations of how life was treating the two of you and talks of random topics thrown in between. What lingered between moments of these conversations was a kind of tension that you knew exactly what kind it was but never could really admit it. Even if you did, it would only be you admitting the kind of frenzy the air around you goes into whenever you and Bucky are near each other.

You were very sure that it was only you who could feel every moment slowing down as if time was giving you the opportunity to really look into everything happening each second and a chance to point out that there was something obvious.

Even though you didn’t know much about Bucky, it was as if you knew him better than even the woman he was married to.

His gaze falling over you through the strands of hair that had escaped out from the knot low on his head, his presence so far away but it was like he was right next to you, the invisible hold he had like he actually had his hands around your body, sending shivers and shudders from the mere touch which truly never was a touch.

Lingering touches, scrutinized by your mind craving for a sign that it wasn’t just you who got caught in all these little moments with Bucky, and the rush of feelings so fast that you could never really point out what they were but could only focus on the fluttering in your tummy that they brought, all of this was something that unknown to you, Bucky also felt.

The thread connected the two of you but neither of you knew that the thread that you held was held at the other end by the other.

To you Bucky was your mom’s husband, someone way out of your league and to Bucky, you were his wife’s daughter, someone who he shouldn’t even have any inappropriate thoughts about when he’s married to her mother.

All these thoughts swirled in your head as you looked at yourself in the mirror, adorned with a short dress perfect for your date while you tugged at the hem, adjusting your dressing as you wished while the light illuminating the room, traced ever curve and dip in its glowing light as if to highlight your beauty and make it stand out.

Bare face and undressed hair, you wore while the distant chattering of the television that Bucky was watching, the two of you trying your hardest to not think about the fact that the house was deserted except for the two of you in it.

Only you and Bucky all alone.

So many things could happen, and Bucky had his mind exactly on those things as, whatever was playing on the television went on while his eyes were glued to it unlike his mind, which was stuck on you and every thought about you. There was only so much the invisible restraints could do from letting his mind finally wander through the dark alley illuminated by every thought of you.

And as the alley was getting brighter with every thought of you, the restraints loosened as if to finally give in to something that Bucky shouldn’t, the fear and hesitance wearing out with every ray of your light falling upon them.

The fear didn’t lie in the notion of indulging in something forbidden, the fear laid in the fact that neither of you would be able to stop from indulging yourselves and drowning in the sea of lust, the water clouding your eyes from any kind of reason for you to stop all while neither of you did anything to save yourselves from the result of lust and need.

Neither of you knew that today was the day that would have the two of you finally giving in and letting your lust and need cloud everything that you were made of, blinding the two of you with its power as Bucky tried focusing on whatever was playing on the television and you were too busy running your hands all over yourself, admiring the way your dress adorned your body.

In a moment of being too lost, your hands swing to accidentally knock over a stack of old papers onto the floor, swaying in the air as they scatter and touch the ground while groans of frustration left your mouth as you stared at the papers on the floor, glaring at them as if in distaste at the interruption.

“ Thank you so fucking much,” you grumble before huffing and bending down to pick up the papers, as your frustration buzzes through you for interrupting your time.

Amidst your grumbling and sounds of the papers folding and crumbling, while you harshly yank them, collecting them into your hands, you don’t hear the heavy rapid footsteps approaching your room.

The sound of the papers falling had immediately caught Bucky’s attention and not a second later he was bolting towards your room, the need to know the cause for the sound guiding his feet. But, the moment he was at your door, the rapid racing of his heart completely halted as if captured in a trance while his breath was stuck in his throat, Bucky too focused on the sight in front of him to let it out because there you were bending down on the floor while the hem of your dress rode up, clearly showing your red lace panties and the cheeks of your ass peeking from under the hem.

If Bucky thought that he could contain himself anymore around you, you were making it so much harder for him and honestly, he doesn't want to hold back anymore. Not when you’re all dressed up, looking pretty as always and just begging for him with the way you were bent down on the ground.

Bucky wanted nothing more than to keep you there, ass high up in the air while he kissed and sucked on your pretty cunt through your panties from behind. Oh, he would tease you until you cried and begged him to ruin you.

Lick and suck that sweet pussy of yours, while you sob his name because he would not stop, not until he got his fill of what he had needed for so long and he knew that you being the good slut you are, you would let him take anything he wanted from you. The sight of you and his thoughts alone already had him getting hard in his sweatpants, making him reach down to adjust his hardening cock and praying that you wouldn’t notice the obvious tent in his pants which was much harder to hide.

Deep down Bucky knew that there was no way you did not want this too.

Bucky’s presence had already filled your room in a way only he can, and immediately you whipped your head to where he stood at the door, your breath getting caught in your chest by how Bucky almost filled the entire door, with his huge frame and bulging muscles while he looked dazed as he peered down at you, his blues faded into a deep color that almost resembled black.

Biting down a smirk and trying your hardest not to squirm with the way how your pussy dripped had already started soaking your panties from the obvious tension between you and Bucky, you ask, “ Did you want something?”

An audible gulp filled the room as Bucky tried to look as normal as he could while replied, “ Uh just heard a sound and wanted to check if you’re fine.”

Bucky watched as you stood up from the floor to place the stack back on the table, his eyes glued to where your dress rode up a bit more making a smirk pull up on your lips and you pull the hem down only for him to realize that he has been staring and snapped his gaze back at you.

The smirk on your face was enough for Bucky to know that you were teasing him, pushing him over the edge so that he finally snaps and ruins you like how you want to be ruined by him and he cannot deny that your plan is working way too well. And who is he to not snap and give you what you want?

Licking his lips and with his cock throbbing in his sweats, Bucky walks up to you with his muscles bulging with every step making him look even bigger than he already is, making you rub your thighs together, your panties sticking to your pussy getting drenched even more.

“ Well, I’m fine. Just knocked a stack of papers down.” You say as you look at yourself in the mirror, running your fingers through your hair while Bucky stands next to you and you have never felt so small in someone’s presence.

Bucky towered over you, his body so much bigger and bulkier and the size difference only makes your breath more rapid as you feel your wetness coat your inner thighs.

“ You gotta be more careful, kitten. You can’t always be a dumb girl now.” Bucky coos, the degradation, and the nickname make your breath hitch.

In the mirror you could see Bucky standing right next to you, the cockiest smirk on his face as his eyes rake over your body and your cheeks heat up while you clench around nothing.

With him next to you, it was so obvious how easily huge he was compared to you, his Henley stretched across his broad chest and his biceps threatening to tear the cloth wrapped around his arm and all you could think about was his arm wrapped around you or your throat as he fucked you relentlessly from behind. It would be so easy for him to keep you in place with just a hand on your body, lift you up and slam you down on his cock all as per his wish while he treated you like his personal fuckdoll.

Nothing went unnoticed by bucky. Not the way your eyes were fixed on his biceps and certainly not the lust-dazed look in your eyes.

“ Something on your mind, kitten?” His breath fanned over the side of your neck as his eyes were pinned on yours in the mirror

Shaking your head a few times, you say, “ N-no just have to get ready for a date.”

That caught his attention. A date.

There was no way Bucky was going to let you out of the house with marking you in a way that showed clearly that you were someone else’s to fuck and ruin.

“ Oh a date?” He asks in mock interest, pressing himself against you and relishing in the way a shudder rakes your body and the way your thighs subtly clench in the mirror.

“ Y-yes, gotta get ready.”

“ You look gorgeous, kitten”

He was right behind you, his body pressing against yours and fuck, you could feel how hard he was. How big.

Yes, you did expect his cock to be big, but now when you feel his hardened cock against your back, you realize just how huge he was and how full he could make you feel. The teasing fucker even had a smirk on his face, knowing exactly what he was doing as he caught your flustered stance in the mirror.

“ Do I, daddy?”

Bucky froze, the tent in his pants even more prominent enough to catch your attention as you felt his cock somehow harder and bigger than before now rubbing against your back and his eyes widened along with your smirk.

It was your turn to play, now.

“ I don’t know, daddy, will he like me? Even bought the dress for this date-” Your fingertips trail all over your body, teasing Bucky which seemed to work as his breath fanned more rapidly across the back of your neck “-got these new panties too” The growl that left Bucky’s mouth made you gasp as your thighs clenched while you lifted the hem of your dress to show him the panties.

Pressing his clothed cock further into your back and watching the way your lips parted in a surprised gasp, Bucky held your eyes in the mirror before gripping your hip in one hand and his other hand slid over your panties as his lips grazed your neck in light, teasing touches.

“ All this for that guy, kitten?” He rasps against your skin while rubbing your pussy through your panties making you gasp and whimper while your hand grabs onto the back of his neck to keep his lips in place.

“Mhm-” Your whimper cuts into a gasp as his fingers harshly rubbed over the big wet patch on your panties, making you moan and grind against his hand, the pressure from his fingers and the roughness of the material against your clit making you moan uncontrollably.

“Such pretty panties, baby. Look so fucking good in them-” His eyes focus on the wet patch with a smirk “- I don’t think the panties come with such a wet patch, kitten. What’s got you so wet, kitten? Hmm? Made such a pretty mess already.” Bucky growls as his huge fingers continue to rub your pussy, as he holds you against his beefy form. His muscles bulged with every movement of his hand, greedy to get more of your sweet sounds from your mouth as his own mouth worked against your neck, biting and kissing the skin.

You watched Bucky rubbing you through your panties in the mirror as words left your mouth in between the moans that you could not contain with his fingers and the roughness of your panties grazing your sensitive clit harshly, enough to keep you on edge but not enough to make you cum. Bucky was not gonna let you cum just yet.

“ I- Oh god-” your eyes rolled back momentarily when Bucky pinched your clit, sending a sharp shoot of pleasure through your body “-was just thinking about everything I would do after the date-”, you pant and moan as Bucky’s fingers kept working on your pussy and his lips on your neck, “-how I would get on my knees for him, suck his cock so good and let him fuck my mouth-”

Bucky growled a deep growl, the voice going straight to your pussy and another wave of slick leaking from your pussy while he urged you to continue.

“-or spread my legs for him, let him eat my pussy all he wants-” A growl rumbled in his chest as he ground his hard clothed cock against you while the movements of his fingers never stopped and neither does the wetness flowing out of you and the moans spilling out of your mouth.

“-or maybe I would ride him, grind my hips while I bounce on his cock but I’m not sure if he’ll like me, daddy”

“That’s fucking it,” Bucky growls into your ears, not wasting a second before he pushes you down by the small of your back, hunching the hem of your dress up till your waist and ripping your panties with his bare hands, the loud tear filling the room.

Your eyes go wide with the realization that he has just ripped your panties as you press your palms flat on top of the dresser and before you can even respond, Bucky’s hand goes straight to your pussy, rubbing and smearing the wetness with the rough pads of his hand with a satisfied hum at how wet you were for him.

Moans and whines immediately rise from your mouth as your hands turn into fists and your eyes roll back from Bucky’s rough touch on you making pleasure shoot all through your body and your belly tighten.

“ Those panties were pretty, kitten. But this slutty cunt is prettier.”

As he rasps the words, sending chills down your body, he pulls his cock out, replacing his fingers with the bulbous tip of his cock as he soaks his cock in your wetness making you whine and gasp at the sudden feeling.

Oh, he was huge, just the tip itself parting your pussy so deliciously and rubbing against your throbbing clit as you watch him throw his head back in the mirror, at the feeling of your wetness on his bare cock.

“ Gonna fill this slutty cunt up and show just how much of a perfect whore you are.” Bucky grunts in your ears as his cock rubbed against your throbbing pussy.

“ Yes, daddy, pl-” Your words morph into a sudden loud moan as Bucky shoves his cock inside you without any warning, a loud squelch filling up the room from his cock buried in your dripping pussy.

Bucky gives you no time to adjust as he goes feral, thrusting in and out of you wildly, finally getting a taste of what he has been denying himself for so long as you helplessly moan and whine from the sharp shoots of pleasure filling up your body.

The wet sounds from your pussy and Bucky’s moans and grunts along with your own moans and whines cloud the room as Bucky’s cock keeps ramming into your from behind, making your grab onto the edge of the dresser for support as you watch your face scrunch up in pleasure in the mirror and the feral look in Bucky’s eyes as he keeps them fixed where his cock disappears rapidly into your pussy and they way your slick has coated his cock.

Leaning forward and pressing his body against your back, enveloping your body in his huge frame while his cock continued to work hard and fast inside you, hitting that sensitive spongy spot with every spot, keeping the pleasure flowing, Bucky leans in to drag his tongue along the side of your neck, sucking harshly at the point where your pulse is and watches your lips part in a gasp in between the uncontrollable moaning.

“ Show daddy everything you know, kitten. And I’ll show you just how much of a perfect whore you are. Letting me fuck this greedy pussy while you’re mom’s not home, like the cock hungry slut you are. Just needed a chance to get filled by me, huh kitten?”

Through the haze of pleasure that your mind is clouded with, you manage to hear Bucky and you don’t even think before the words spill out of your mouth in moans, too caught up in the pleasure of his cock fucking you hard and fast while you felt his hand on your clit, playing and pinching the throbbing bud.

“ Yes, daddy, needed your cock so bad, Always imagined it was you when I fucked myself with my fingers, but I needed to feel your cock in me, daddy.” You cry out as your belly painfully tightens with every thrust and hard movement of Bucky’s fingers against your aching clit.

“ Got such a good whore all to myself. Fucking obsessed and drunk on my cock, already. You’re my little fucktoy now, gonna keep you filled every fucking minute.” Bucky growls into your ears as your pussy clamps down on his cock with every filthy word leaving his mouth as he fucks you with every mercilessly the same way he tortures your throbbing clit with his fingers as your legs shake and treble from both the force of his thrusts and the white-hot pleasure making your body weak.

“ Fuck, that’s it, kitten, let daddy use this little fuckhole. Just be a good little fucktoy and let me ruin you.” Bucky chokes out the words in between his loud grunts as you keep moaning with no stopping like how the buzz of pleasure is running through you.

The coil in your belly continues to tighten with every harsh drag of Bucky’s cock against your walls, the bulbous tip hitting your sweet spot hard and fast, while the pleasure from your clit keeps rushing through you making you moan and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“ Oh fuck, daddy, yes right there, fuck, s’good s’good, daddy.” Mindless words slip out of you, your mind and body drunk on Bucky’s cock and how hard and fast he’s fucking you. No stopping, no mercy, shown, not when he’s finally gotten what he’s wanted.

“ Yeah thats fucking it, take my cock, kitten. There you go, being such a good slut and going dumb on my cock.”

The dumb look on your face has Bucky’s pace increasing to an unfathomable level and the intense pleasure already has your mind clouded, your body and mind now only guided by his cock moving in and out of you as Bucky brings his biceps around your neck, watching as your eyes widen and glaze even more when he squeezes his beefy biceps just enough for your head to feel dizzy and buzzing so that the only thing you know is going is how Bucky is using and ruining your sensitive pussy and the intense pleasure coursing through your body.

“ Oh lookatcha, my lil fucktoy likes that huh? You like being used and choked like a slut? Of course, you do, you’re my dumb whore after all.” Bucky proudly says, smirking to himself as his gaze from the mirror does not waver, feeling his own orgasm on the brink just from your tight pussy wrapped around his cock and the fucked out look on your face.

All you could do was choke out a moan in response as you felt your orgasm so close to reaching. You were so close to cumming hard all over him and with every harsh thrust, you were only getting closer along with Bucky’s arm wrapped around your neck enough to get your mind dumb and fuzzy.

Your moans and whines got louder and more frequent and so does Bucky’s grunts as his own thighs shudder from the release that he’s about to reach along with you.

As the coil in your belly approaches the brink of breaking all you can do is babble,“ Daddy, daddy, don’t stop, ‘m so close. Fuck, so good, your cock feels so good in me daddy,” as Bucky keeps his arm locked around your neck keeping you upright as your hands weaken and lay limp on top of the dresser while his arm supported you.

You were being held up and fucked so hard and fast from behind by Bucky, letting him use you as your body was only overcome with pleasure, like his own fucktoy. Bucky was feral and needy, desperate to feel every inch of you as his cock vigorously drove in and out of you and his fingers continued to circle your clit.

“ Don’t worry, kitten, daddy’s gonna keep using this lil fuckhole all he wants. And I’ll always want this greedy cunt.” You nod your head with vigor agreeing to everything he says, with no hesitation. “ ‘m all yours, daddy. Yours to fuck and ruin.”

Your moans only spurred Bucky further and he felt his own orgasm just on the edge of breaking loose and the fluttering and clenching of your pussy as your moans and gasps got louder, indicating your own release, “ Can feel your cunt squeezing me, kitten. Cum f’me, be a good slut and make a mess all over my cock. Cum f’me kitten.”

The pleasure gets too much, Bucky tightens his arm around your neck, and his cock slams into you at a pace that you cannot keep up with, as your thighs quiver and your body convulses, your orgasm crashes over you, the strongest one you have ever had.

“ Oh god, ‘m cumming, fuck ‘m cumming so hard. Feels so good, daddy, oh fuck, daddy fill me up please, fill me up.”

Groaning at the pleasure that clouded him, Bucky kept fucking you through your orgasm, as he felt your pussy spasm around his cock while you came all over him with cries and screams of “daddy” and pleas for him to keep fucking you.

Your pussy dripped, your cum running down your thighs while the sloppy squelch of Bucky fucking you through your release rang through the room, and as your sensitive pussy ached when the orgasm washed over but you were still reeling from the effect. Awaiting for Bucky to cum in you, he pulls out making you let out a cry of desperation.

“ No, daddy, need you to cum in me,” Bucky jerks his arm around your neck, indicating you to shut up and a slap lands on your face with the hand that was playing with your clit, “ You take what I give you, kitten. And I’m only gonna fill you up after I get a taste of that sweet cunt.”

“ But-” Your whine is cut in between by Bucky slapping your oversensitive cunt, making you cry out as he throws you over his shoulder before making his way to your bed and throwing you on the mattress.

Still coming down from the high of your release, and the aftershocks of the pleasure running through you, you lay spread out in the bed for Bucky as he stands at the foot of the bed, his aching and weeping cock held tightly in his fist as his eyes raked your body.

Spreading your legs further as you watch in awe the way, Bucky’s hands jerk off his cock shining with your cum and arousal, “ ‘m so wet f’you, daddy. Need you, please.” You whine as your pussy throbs both from need and the oversensitivity of the previous orgasm.

Momentarily closing his eyes to collect himself and low moans escaping his lips from his hand sliding up and down his cock, so hard and begging for release, he growls, “ That pretty cunt needs more, kitten? Just need to be ruined by daddy, huh? Need daddy to remind you how fucking slutty you are-” he teases you with his words as he clubs onto the bed, in between your legs, spreading them further with his huge frame as his eyes never leave your sopping pussy dripping your arousal onto the sheets, “-fuck, kitten, i just used this slutty cunt like a toy and you still need more? Oh yes, you do” His fingers collect the wetness between your pussy lips making you hiss at the sensitivity and when he presses his thumb on your swollen clit, a loud moan leaves you.

“ Just wan’ you to use me, daddy, please.”

Bucky could never deny your plea and he doesn’t waste a second before latching his mouth on you, slipping his hand under your ass to lift you up slightly from the bed to bury his face deeper into your pussy.

“ Oh yes, daddy.” You cry out as Bucky sucks on your pussy, licking up every drop you had to offer, not caring one bit about how oversensitive your pussy is as long as he got his fill of your sweet pussy.

With your taste filling his mouth, Bucky moans into your pussy making your hips jolt up and grind against his face. Bucky wraps his lips around your throbbing clit, sucking it into his mouth. “ Yes, yes, yes. Oh, fuck, daddy.” You babble, without thinking and letting the pleasure from his hot and wet mouth on you take over you.

Sounds of slurping from Bucky drinking in every drop of you, greedily along with your helpless moans and screams and muffled groans from Bucky, occupy the whole room as Bucky continues to eat you out while holding your thighs apart with his huge body in between them.

“ Keep going, daddy, keep going. ‘m already so close, wanna cum all over your face, daddy.” You pant as Bucky works his mouth on you, prodding his tongue against your dripping hole, slipping it in, and fucking you with his tongue, while humming at your taste.

Alternating between sucking your clit, nibbling on it, and fucking you with his tongue while you writhe underneath his mouth and cry out at the feeling of oversensitivity, you can feel a second orgasm building.

Bucky might cum just from your taste and your sounds alone, but he controls himself, the aim of needing to cum only inside your pretty pussy keeping him sane. His cock’s so hard and throbbing, leaking pre-cum onto the sheets, but all he can focus on now is the taste of your pussy and to get you to cum again.

The oversensitivity of your pussy and the need to cum again only increases when Bucky, without any warning slips two fingers harshly into you, replacing his tongue.

Wet sounds arise with your high-pitched cries as his fingers rapidly thrust in and out of your pussy while he sucked and licked your clit at the same time, your release so fucking close again.

Never taking his eyes off you. Bucky curls his fingers to press against that sweet spot inside you, rubbing against it with every movement of his fingers inside you and the flick of his tongue against your clit.

Bucky can feel your pussy clenching around his fingers, your face scrunching up and making the thin sheen of sweat shine under the dim light. He knows that his greedy whore is close again, needing and aching to cum all over his tongue while he ruins his pretty cunt.

“ ‘m gonna, ah fuck, ‘gonna cum.” Your moans drown into loud cries as your body thrashes and Bucky pulls yet another mind-blowing orgasm as he sucks on your clit harshly and rubs his fingers against the sensitive spot inside you, pressing against it as he watches you tremble in his hold and moan and cry out as he laps up every drop, lifting your hips even more to drink in every drop of you.

Your release continues to flow through you with Bucky eating you out through it all, your pussy now red and puffy and leaking onto his tongue.

Heavy pants leave your mouth as you lie on the bed, mind fuzzy from the two intense orgasms and your pussy quivering, jolts of sharp pleasure shooting through you with every movement as Bucky brings himself to hover over you with a cocky grin plastered on his glistening lips.

“ You don’t think we’re done, do you kitten?-” His lips brush against yours as your eyes focus on his face “-gotta fill that cunt up with my cum, now don’t I?”

“ Fill me up, daddy.” You pant and Bucky doesn’t have to be told twice as he flips you over so that you’re straddling him, taking you by surprise which was clear from your gasp.

“ You wanted me to stuff that greedy cunt up with my cum? Then ride me, kitten, you can’t expect to be a greedy cockslut and lemme do all the work. Go on and make me cum, kitten.”

Hearing your pathetic whines, Bucky grips your hips, lifting you off of him, so that you could line his hard cock to your hole dripping your juices on him.

You take every inch of him as you slide down his cock, splitting you open with how thick he is, both of you moaning and grunting as your wet and warm pussy, gripping his cock.

“ So big, daddy, feels so good inside me.” You throw your head back in a moan as you completely sheath his cock inside you.

Bucky’s lips part in an ‘o’ as his eyes roll to the back of his head, “ Such a tight lil cunt, taking all of my cock. Fuck, you love being split into two on my cock, kitten? Such an obedient whore for me as long as you have my cock in you.” His gravelly moans were enough to have bounced up and down his cock, desperate to get filled so full of him.

Hands gripping your hips tightly and eyes never leaving the way his cock disappeared into your pussy along with the bounce of your tits, Bucky watches you ride him, shamelessly moaning and grunting with every movement and every clench of your pussy around his cock.

“ Ah right there, daddy.” You scream when the head of his cock, bruises your sensitive spot every time, and your arousal leaks out of you even more.

Bucky grunts at the sounds leaving your mouth and one of his hands travels to where your bodies are connected to rub your clit with his fingers, increasing the pace of your moments and wails of pleasure to leave you.

“ That’s the spot, kitten? That’s the spot that gets you all dumb and whiny like the filthy whore you are? My filthy whore.” His fingers move against your clit at an ungodly pace, which only makes you bounce on his cock faster, needy for another release, and due to the sensitivity and intensity from the orgasms before, you can already feel your third orgasm building in your lower belly.

“ That’s it, kitten, take my cock. You won it, baby, ride me like you own me and my cock.” The response he got to his filthy words were mindless babbles and cries as his cock grazed your walls, kept hitting that spot inside you and his fingers abused your swollen and aching clit.

Bucky’s abs clenched and his eyes never wavered from where they were alternating between your pussy swallowing his dick and your tits bouncing, “ Lemme suck those pretty nipples, kitten, c’mere.”

“ Yes, daddy, all yours,” You lean forward, just enough for your tits to bounce and sway in front of his face with every movement.

Greedily, Bucky takes his other hand from your hip to grab one of your tits holding it in place as he takes it into his mouth with an appreciative grunt.

Your back arches as Buck sucks and flicks the sensitive bud with his tongue, eyes intently watching every expression on your face as his own pleasure-filled face scrunches up with every roll and grind of your hips.

“ You’re doing so good for me, kitten, soaking my cock just how I like it. Taking my huge fat cock in that tiny fuckhole, ah fuck, you’re the perfect lil toy, kitten.” You moan and nod fervently in reply, too fucked out to say anything as you keep bouncing on his cock.

He can feel how close the two of you are. His balls tightening like the coil in your belly, and his stomach clenching from all the pleasuring driving away every last coherent thought.

Bucky continues to suck on the delicate skin of your tits, needing to mark you and show you that you’re his from now on.

Marks of him land on you as he sucks hickies all over your tits before moving up to your neck and you were riding him so hard and fast and too fucked out to realize that everyone could see the marks he is now leaving on you.

“ Gonna let everyone know that you’re my fucktoy, no one else gets to use this slutty cunt other than me, kitten. You’re all mine to use, you’re my fuckdoll.” He growled possessively against the skin while his fingers worked even faster.

“ Only need your cock, daddy. Only need to be stuffed with your cum.” An appreciative pinch and rub lands on your clit and the words that have just left your mouth awakens a feral part of him that he himself didn’t know he had.

Both of his hands go back to your hips and he plants his feet flat on the mattress, not waiting a minute longer before he rams into you, his pace wild and uncontrollable.

You were helpless and all you could do was hold onto his chest while he fucks into you roughly, sparing no thought as his own guttural grunts and your pleasure-driven moans and whines bounce off the walls.

Bucky’s hips lift off the mattress at a fast pace, the force of his thrust just as hard and his grunts loud enough to have your pussy clamping down on him as your moans get louder and his grunts get deeper and more guttural.

“ Milking my cock so fucking good, kitten. Got the perfect slutty kitten f’me. Fuck, oh fucking god.”

Sucking marks and littering them on every part of your neck he can, Bucky fucks you thoroughly, needing to fill you up and needing to feel you cum all around him again.

“ Use me, daddy, ‘m so close. Gonna make a mess all over your cock again.”

The two of you could feel your orgasms getting so so close again and Bucky’s thrusts become even more feral than before, which you didn’t think could be possible as your hold on him tightened while he fucked you ruthlessly, determined to fill you up and mae you cum again.

The wet and rapid slapping of skin, your cries along with Bucky’s wild grunts echoes through the room as Bucky plunges his cock into you deeper and faster while his fingers still work on your clit and his mouth on your tits.

A wail leaves you and you clench down hard on Bucky’s cock as the coil breaks loose in your belly and you cum harder than before all over his cock, with gasps and whines as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“ There ya go, kitten, squeezing me so fucking tight. Daddy’s gonna fill you up now and you better fucking take every drop.”

“ Fill me up, daddy wanna feel you for days.”

Your words were enough to have his abs tightened like the grip on your hips, Bucky’s cock driving in and out of you at a brutal pace as his thick, hot cum fills you up in a never-ending stream.

“ So fucking good, kitten, you feel so good.”

Bucky fills you up so good, some of his cum even leaking from the side from how much he’s filling you up with growls and grunts as you stay with his cock buried inside you.

As your orgasms wash over, you lay limp on him, trying to catch your breath while Bucky does the same with his cock still inside you. Heavy breathing fills the room and both of your pleasure-induced minds are still coming back to reality.

You knew that your date would have probably assumed that you decided that you weren't interested anymore and left. There was no point in thinking about the lost date and even if they were still waiting for you, there was no way you would go.

You knew that.

Bucky knew that.

As you shifted, Bucky’s grip on you tightened, not allowing you to get off him or his cock as he brought his lips to your ear.

“ You’re the perfect fucktoy anyone could ask for, kitten. But you’re not gonna be just anyone’s, you’re mine and all fucking mine.”

A/n: Scream at me all you want and please do comment and reblog

tagging a few peeps:

@maladaptivexxdaydreaming @ambrosiase @fluffycutecevans @fluffyprettykitty @ashfaceiwa @moongoddessmox @jobean12-blog @destroyer-chris @winterssbucky @buckysswinter @commonintrest @broken-kitty1995 @lfnr-blog-blog-blog @cwbucky @tumblin-theworldaway @bucky-barnes-diaries @bonky-n-steeb @becca-e-barnes @multi-stann @christowhore @chrisfucksblog @kaitioo @mobbucky @the-plum-soldier @theluxuriousfangirl @summerofsnowflakes @aynanasstuff @samthemarvelfan @s-tarksintern @late-to-the-party-81 @nocturne-pisces @world-of-aus @holylulusworld @starbuckie @justreadingfics @midnightf

2K notes View Post

jasmine06blog

1 year ago

I love them so much🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

BEST OF Y/NTOSHAW (ii) | h. lewis

summary: more favourite moments of harry and mrs wroetoshaw. [social media AU.]

pairing: reader x bog. (W2S.)

notes: part 1 here! this been in my drafts since september!threw it together after getting so much harry content, i was getting all the domestic vibes 🤌🏼 hope you LOVE it, let me know your thoughts as always my loves!!! got a cute idea making this for sum else so . . 🤭 like, comment and reblog <333.

Liked by ksi, behzinga and 395,750 others

yourusername week this week ✨ glad to see the brighter nights and the sun lingering about london 🌳☀️🦢 called into the office and grabbed a nando’s as always, only regretted doing one of them . . .

view all 701 comments

user I LOVE YOU

user y/n come get your man 🙄

user what is he doing

faithlouisak oop diet going well x

wroetoshaw another fucking zara bag

faithlouisak what’s it to you?

Liked by calfreezy, reevhd and 445,593 others

yourusername busy month of jan ✨ hour long drives for hour long shoots, some new wardrobe pieces and insane garlic bread recipe found online 🤌🏼 hope everyone has a good week 🤍😙

view all 808 comments

user third slide

yourusername i had an ear infection leave me be 😞☹️

user THIS IS SO CUTE

user y/n i want your life

user i wish my weeks looked like this

miniminter can still smell the 9th slide

yourusername #trauma

user harry is so lucky, i wish she was my woman

user mug ?!

yourusername an ancient fangirl piece x

user your man is so fine

yourusername he is

user blue is the colour 💙💙💙

user you’ll traumatise bog

Liked by chrismd10, r0sielewis and 333,572 others

yourusername short escape to good ol’ guernsey 🌾

view all 328 comments

user MY W2S HEARTTTT

user OOMF roasties 🥵🥵🥵

user love your pjs xxx

yourusername about 10 years old hen xxx

user the thought of them chilling together in harry’s room while he makes vids and his mum probs downstairs making dinner like their teens again 🙃

user harry throw her in the chicken hut again

faithlouisak wife xxx

user THE FIFTH SLIDE

user the life i deserve

user guernsey vlog when??

Liked by mollymae, boohoo and 178,584 others

yourusername sunshine? catch me in a beer garden 🫡 london mom treated me to some lunch n cocktails today, i don’t deserve her 🤧🩷👭

view all 293 others

freyanightingale my baby baby girl 💓

user 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

taliamar MY FAV GIRLIESSS 🥹💛🌼😍

user can i be a part of this friendgroup

zerkka who’s the hottie

yourusername i can give you her number if you want ?

user FAVS

Liked by georgeclarkeey, taliamar and 101,939 others

yourusername work run means either spending the whole day in the office as well or spending it running around trying to find things to do in central london in the meantime because by the time i get home with london traffic i am heading back again :) nontheless, love to play tourist ‘til it gets dark, but also love visiting my man at the office to see what he’s up to, always so hardworking xx

view all 488 comments

user what are they doing?!!

calfreezy but god forbid i ask for a fellas run 🙄

yourusername DON’T YOU EVEN GO THERE

user you’re the best gf y/n ❤️

user he’s so lucky to have you, i cba to drive my man to the corner shop xx

user you better make a cameo in that vid miss gworl

user this told me to move to london (i have -0.02 in the bank)

tell it to my heart // jenson button (instagram au!)

summary: jenson and his pop-culture icon wifey celebrate their wedding anniversary and the fans reminisce on how they got there.

pairing: jenson button x 2000s actress! reader

faceclaim: sarah michelle gellar

notes: genuinely sarah michelle and freddie prinze have my whole fucking heart…he’s truly and utterly infatuated by her and they just love each other so much, I’m getting weepy just looking at their wedding photos-

Tell It To My Heart // Jenson Button (instagram Au!)

2000sthrowbacks On this day in 2010, "Scooby-Doo" and "I Know What You Did Last Summer" actress Y/N Y/L/N announced her engagement to Formula 1 driver Jenson Button. To celebrate, we're counting down our favorite Y/N roles, starting with Daphne Blake in "Scooby-Doo" and "Scooby-Doo: Monsters Unleashed!"

see all comments

user how jenson bagged this baddie i will never understand

-> jensonbutton i still don't understand it either but i love her and she loves me and i hope it stays that way

user mother

user I can’t believe they’ve been married for ten years already….they haven’t aged a day

user I love how they’re both majorly successful in their own fields yet still managed to make time to support each other, even when it meant that YN had to turn down an audition for ‘the ghost of girlfriends past’ so she could be there to watch brawn win the championship

user real talk, has jenson ever asked her to wear the buffy the vampire slayer costume in bed (because if i was him that's what i'd be doing)

->y/nbutton only once and it was awkward for both of us.

Y/N Button on Live with Kelley and Mark

y/nbutton added to her story!

jensonbutton just posted!

liked by y/nbutton, markwebber, lewishamilton and others

jensonbutton happy anniversary to the love of my life, the most beautiful woman in the world, the mother of my children. she's definitely too cool for me, and i take that in stride. in fact, on the day we got married, fernando asked me if i still wanted to go through with the wedding, and that i should tie you down before you realized you could have literally any man in the world. needless to say, it felt surreal that you chose me. we've spent fourteen beautiful years together, and i can't wait for fourteen more.

i love you, y/n.

see all comments

y/nbutton i love you more and more with every passing day xx

fernandoalonso you were punching way above your weight class hermano

-> jensonbutton and yet im the one with a wife and you're not?

-> fernandoalsonso shut up

alex_albon she's everything, he's just ken

-> user LMAO ALEX WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

user parents

user dilf

-> y/nbutton agreed.

-> user milf

-> jensonbutton yes.

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @diorleclerc @lorarri @cartierre @thatsdemko @userlando @twinkodium @sidcrosbyspuck

1K notes View Post

jasmine06blog

1 month ago

Phantom on the Grid

F1 grid x Driver Reader F1 grid x Doohan Sister Reader

It's the 2025 season, and Cadillac has made a surprise early entry onto the Formula 1 grid with two promising drivers. Franco Colapinto takes the role of the experienced hand, while Y/N steps in as the grid’s newest rookie. But with the team's last-minute arrival, expectations are uncertain—especially when it comes to their mysterious second driver.

No one knows who Y/N really is. She’s never been seen without her helmet or racing gear, and in a sport dominated by men, the world simply assumes she’s just another guy. Even her brother has no idea. Cadillac plays into the secrecy, tweaking every detail to keep her true identity hidden for as long as possible. But as the season unfolds, secrets don’t stay buried forever…

Teaser

Chapters

Pre-Season Activities Paddock Debut Debut Race Racing Hearts, Fractured Bonds The Worst Weekend Ever Your Secret is Safe with me... With US... A Shift in his Mood Identity Crisis Crisis Averted Heat Exhaustion The Heart Can Only Take So Much... Before It No Longer Beats For You Standing on My Own Two Feet

In Progress... Current Running Taglist @widow-cevans @honethatty12 @wierdflowerpower @imlonelydontsendhelp @thatsnotaddy @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @littlesimps-world

Authors Note/Updates

I just wanted to thank everyone who comments on any of the chapters. It is really helpful to keep me motivated when I work on the next chapters and lets me know that I am doing good. Plus, it is extra fun for me to see people either accidentally guess what is coming up or help me potentially come up with new ideas for filler chapters or even the real angsty/juicy ones.

For those wondering, yes, we are getting real close to one of the BIG climax's of this story. Stay tuned for the redemption arc in coming, just put up with me for a little while longer.

259 notes View Post

jasmine06blog

1 year ago

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? 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.

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.”

390 notes View Post

jasmine06blog

7 months ago

Riding Shotgun || CL14 & PG10 {1}

Pairing: boyfriend!Charles Leclerc x fem!reader x ex!Pierre Gasly Summary: A trip away with your boyfriend takes a turn when your ex comes along. Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, mentions of historical cheating, unprotected sex, voyeur/exhibition kink. WC: 1.9k F1 Masterlist || one || two

Charles’ Ferrari pulled up outside his apartment just as you stepped outside with the overnight bag he had asked you to pack. The excited smile on your face hadn’t wavered since he promised to take you away for the night, just the two of you. So much of his time at home this trip has been spent with others, like going to the tennis open or some photoshoot, that he wanted to treat you to something special.

But as the passenger door swung open you saw he wasn’t alone.

“Oh, hey Pierre,” you greeted your ex who was sitting in your seat before lifting a questioning eyebrow to your boyfriend behind the steering wheel. “What are you doing here?”

“I hope you don’t mind, when Charles said he was going to Milan I thought I might catch a ride,” Pierre said as jumped out and took your bag to the boot.

“Should I call a taxi?” you asked as Pierre sat back in the passenger seat.

“You can sit on his lap,” Charles offered with a nod in Pierre's direction, “it’s not that far to the airport.”

“You want me to sit on my ex-boyfriend's lap for half an hour,” you stated, hoping he would pick up on the strangeness of the set up but he seemed oblivious. “Why doesn’t Pierre just drive?”

“No one drives my Pista,” he scoffed, like what you had said was absurd and not what he had. “Just get in or we’ll be late.”

You looked back at the apartment but knew you weren’t going to miss out on a night away with Charles so you took a steadying breath and climbed into the car.

You had forgotten how muscular Pierre was until you sat on his lap, not that Charles wasn’t, but Pierre took more interest in bulking up when he went to the gym. It made for a very uncomfortable seat in a car built for luxury.

“Stop squirming,” Pierre muttered in your ear as you shifted once again.

“You’re not exactly soft.”

His large hands gripped your hips and planted you firmly in one spot as Charles left the city and started the ascent through the winding mountain road to Nice.

“Charles, slow down,” you warned as you grabbed the handle above the door and the dash.

Without a seatbelt you were rocking side to side with each corner and Pierre had wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you from jolting forward whenever Charles broke into the tight corners. Attempting to stabilise you further, Pierre widened his legs but the movement caused your jeans to pull tight as he forced your thighs apart and the seam pressed into a very sensitive spot.

Charles didn’t hear your sharp intake of breath over the music that was playing but Pierre did and a quiet chuckle teased your ear.

“Everything alright, princess?”

His words were mocking, the title one you had been given since going public with the ‘people’s prince of Monaco’.

“Fine,” you bit back sharply before Charles took another corner quickly and the seam of your jeans rubbed over your clit, a small unexpected moan escaping at the sensation. You froze at the sound and became hyper aware of everything happening in the car; from Charles pressing the volume up on the steering console to the length growing hard beneath you.

“You don’t sound fine,” he teased, his hands slipping lower down your waist. “You sound…needy. Does Charles not satisfy you like I did?”

Your fist clenched around the handle as you fought the urge to drop your elbow on his head but that would certainly draw Charles’ attention to the situation you had found yourself in.

“Shut up, Pierre,” you whispered angrily under your breath.

“You didn’t deny it,” he pointed out.

You shifted to your side so you could see his face when you spoke to him. “Charles not only satisfies me, but he satisfies only me and doesn’t fuck with every woman that bats her eyelashes his way.”

“We established I was a shit boyfriend, but he could never make you come like I can.”

“This also makes you a really shit friend. What happens if I turn the other way and tell him about this?”

Pierre smirked and leaned closer. “Go on, princess, I dare you.”

“Charles?” You called his bluff and turned the music down, your boyfriend’s eyes darting over for a moment before returning to the road. “Pierre has an erection.”

Pierre choked on a laugh as he dropped the pretence of holding you in place and let his hands fall naturally between your legs. “And Y/N is about three corners away from an orgasm.”

His fingers pressed over the seam of your jeans and the breath you had been taking to yell at him shuddered in your chest at the touch, the shiver a betrayal of your body. You grabbed Pierre’s hands to pull them away but he was far stronger and when you looked at Charles for help you expected to find anger in his eyes.

“I know your fantasies, princess,” Pierre smirked and looked over at his friend as his fingers teased over the denim between your legs, “you don’t have to be shy. Has Charles told you his yet?” His stubble tickled your neck as his lips brushed behind your ear and he whispered, “Before you two got together he would get off on the stories of us fucking.”

Your resistance faltered as your stomach flipped and you peered over to Charles who was biting his lip and stealing every glance he could as he drove, his eyes focused on Pierre’s hands between your legs and his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. You dragged your eyes down his body and saw his jeans barely containing the evidence of his arousal.

“You always wanted to have someone watch us, someone we could trust,” Pierre continued, announcing your secret to the car as one hand snaked up your body and gently wrapped around the base of your throat. “Now you can.”

“You’re insane,” you rasped breathlessly but it had nothing to do with the hold he had.

“Am I?” he chuckled as he flipped the sunvisor down and opened the mirror so you could see your face, your pupils blown out with desire. He reached for your jeans and popped the button before dragging the zip down slowly but you didn’t fight him. “Didn’t think so.”

Charles pulled over into the road shoulder overlooking the French Riviera and turned the car off. “You were meant to wait until the hotel,” he said as he palmed his erection.

“It’s hard to keep my hands to myself when she’s grinding on my fucking dick, Cha.”

“You planned this.” You felt stupid as you realised it. The feeling quickly passed when Pierre’s hand slipped beneath your panties and he felt how wet you were for him as he started to fuck you with two fingers.

“Fuck,” Pierre growled with the husky tone that came out whenever he was about to lose control and you trembled in anticipation. “Get these off, now.”

You shoved your jeans down your legs and he lifted your hips up so he could free himself from his own before pulling you back down on his lap. A cry filled the car as he stretched your cunt and you revelled in the burn that danced the thin line between pleasure and pain.

“Cristo,” Charles moaned as his hand disappeared into his jeans and he watched you bounce on his friend's cock. “Come sei bella.”

Pierre grazed his teeth over your racing pulse before sealing his lips over your skin and leaving his mark while his middle finger found your clit.

“Do you like seeing another man fucking me?” you asked Charles as stroked his cock, the swollen head weeping with precum as he tightened his fist around it. “Do you like being cuckolded?”

“Mon Dieu, oui,” he moaned and your cunt clenched in response.

“I’m not going last when you do that, princess,” Pierre growled in your ear and your body heated at the look he gave you in the small mirror.

The atmosphere intensified as the sounds in the car grew louder and you planted your hands on the dashboard so you could rock your hips against Pierre. The shift in angles hit that perfect spot that sent stars dancing across your vision and your head fell back with the ecstasy that washed over you.

“Fuck, she feels so good,” your ex said to your boyfriend as he felt your orgasm rippling around him. His grip on your hips tightened as he guided you even faster before slamming you down on him and holding you there, filling you with his release and igniting another aftershock of pleasure.

Charles groaned at the sight of you sagging back into Pierre’s embrace as you basked in the afterglow and his cock pulsed in his hand with thick ropes of cum spilling over his fist.

Pierre tipped his head back into the headrest as he regained his breath and his fingers drew small designs over your thighs. “You’re a lucky man, Cha.”

“You had your chance.” You whimpered at the emptiness as you shifted off Pierre’s lap and pulled your jeans back up.

“Maybe we can come to some other arrangement,” Pierre suggested. “We both know I’m not boyfriend material, that’s all Charles, but you have to admit this felt good.”

The high you had been riding faded and reality set in as you looked at Charles. “Is this what you want?”

“I think it’s safe to say we all enjoyed it,” he noted as he found a napkin in a cup holder and started to clean up the mess on his hand and you giggled at the statement.

“Yeah, but it’s a recipe for disaster. Fuckboy’s don’t belong in relationships.”

“I agree,” Pierre chuckled as he tucked himself away and zipped his jeans up. “That’s not really what we had planned.”

“If you were comfortable of course,” Charles confirmed.

“I told him about your exhibition kink,” Pierre said with a smirk. “Turns out he’s a bit of a voyeur and likes to watch. And, well, I like to fuck. So whenever you want, I’m up for giving a little show. What are friends for?”

You chewed your lip at the thought of the arrangement, the idea making your skin heat once again. “And what if I want more than a show?”

Both men sat up a little straighter and Charles ran his thumb over his bottom lip. “Like what, cherie?”

Shyness had you looking away from his green eyes and you watched the sea way down the bottom of the mountain instead. “What if I wanted both of you, at the same time?”

Pierre’s chest pushed against you as it puffed with a sharp intake of air and he looked at Charles for an answer. Everyone knew Pierre was up for nearly anything but you had thought Charles was more conservative until today and you weren’t sure what his answer would be, or if you had in fact just ruined not only your relationship but their friendship too.

“I’m okay with that,” Charles said, his throat bobbing with the deep swallow he took. “Pierre?”

“Get us to Milan, Charles,” he replied. “Your car is too small for that.”

Click here for part two.

F1 Tagging: @91vhs @alwaysclassyeagle @applespiez @ravenqueen27 @booksobsess @tempo-rary-fix @baw-sixteen @im-an-overthinker @notleclerc

A/N: please let me know if you want to be tagged in all of my F1 fics 💕

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