#gnf myct | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thegirlwhowritesawksh-t · 4 years ago

Text

point of no return (georgenotfound x f!reader)

author: me! @thegirlwhowritesawksh-t

word count: 3.6k +

warnings: maybe a bit of angst, hella fluff? if there’s any you think you see, let me know!

A/N: first off: hi guys! this is my first fic ever (i’m a noob lmao), so please be gentle! i am in the process of writing some more about whoever I feel like simping for next... probably still George, mi amor *kisses* and second: to whoever’s reading this: stay hydrated, smile and laugh! let me know what y’all think! *sending besitos to y’all :))

Sometimes it was hard to find the words to say I like you, much less, “I love you”. For (y/n), it was easy to say it to anyone. Friends, family, ex boyfriends. Everyone. Everyone but him. Pacing across her room in the flat she shared with George, all she could feel were her nerves on edge. Down the hall, in his own room engaging in a do not laugh match with Dream in Minecraft, George sits oblivious to the predicament (y/n) has currently placed herself in.

Her phone chimes with an incoming text from the man invading her thoughts -

GogyBogy: just about to finish up with Dream. movie night? your choice?

She can’t help but let out a soft scoff, but smiled and typed a yes back, slowly getting ready to head downstairs to make the popcorn and pull out the assortment of films to decide to watch.

It’s not like she knew that she was attracted to him the whole time. It had only been recently, when George decided to attempt a cooking stream, and all she could do was focus on how he had spent time looking for the best outfit for the stream.

“I have to look like I know what I’m doing, you know, I’m Chef George!”, letting out a giggle as he perfects his outfit. Maybe it was how he looked in his outfit, or maybe it was how his hair looked soft to run her hands through. One thing she knew for sure: like a shit ton of bricks, she was over the moon for him, and she just realized that now.

Since her earth-shattering realization, (y/n) has tried her best to remain cool and collected around George. There have been a few mishaps, though. One incident in mind merely happening just this morning. >>>

Cooking eggs in a skillet, (y/n) hums lyrics to a popular song, eyes closing every so often fighting to stay awake. Finding plates for two, she starts to flip the eggs, humming louder each passing minute, only loud enough to fill the empty room. Lost in the focus to flipping the eggs, she fails to notice George trudging in, pulling another late night editing videos for his YouTube channels.

“Isn’t it a bit early to be singing?” George mumbles, as she pauses mid-song. “How else am I to wake? It’s either I hum, or I blast some album full blast on Spotify. Want to listen to One Direction then? They have the Best Song Ever” (y/n) chuckles.

“Touché”. He remarks, (y/n) laughs and deciding that the eggs are fully cooked, she plates them, and adds garnish, consisting of pepper and a pinch of salt.

“Do you want tea?” (y/n) asks, as George responds with a yes.

“Can you get the mugs then? I’ll start heating water in the kettle” she asks as she starts looking for the kettle.

“Mugs are already on the table, and I’ve just grabbed the kettle. Let me do it, you’ve made breakfast this morning.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m right here already- “ (y/n) says as George quickly moves to the sink, filling up the kettle with water. “Don’t worry! I am an expert on making tea, (y/n)” George states, with a scoff rolling off of (y/n)’s lips.

“Right, and I’ll be the next Queen of England” she snorts, finally pleased with her creation. Turning around to put the finished masterpiece on the table, she jumps back realizing that George is right in front of her.

“What the heck!?” she asks as she’s still balancing the two plates on her hands. George only stifles a small smile.

“I told you, I’ll make the tea”, he replies. (y/n) opens her mouth to object with something snarky when all thoughts have gone out the window.

George, in the midst of heating the kettle, leans forward unconsciously holding onto (y/n)’s waist, as he reaches behind her to place the kettle on the burner next to the previously used skillet. Not only does she feel him grasping her waist, it then emphasizes that she’s trapped between the stove and George. So much for avoiding feelings, (y/n) thought.

He returns to his previous position, not yet letting go of (y/n)’s waist. Whether it be on purpose or on accident, (y/n) couldn’t tell for the life of her, she was focused on not dropping the plates of eggs. (y/n) then quirks an eyebrow, as if questioning why he’s still in front of her, holding her waist. George can only look back at her in confusion, eyebrows furrowing.

“I didn’t think you were clumsy to the point you decided to hold onto me”, (y/n) mutters as George’s eyes widen, hand dropping to his side as quick as he placed his hand on (y/n)’s waist. Just as quick as he dropped his hand, (y/n) felt immediate loss on what seems to be like her burning waist.

(y/n) can’t help but look down at the plates of eggs, no doubt that they started to cool off before she glances at his hand. The hand that held her, of course. Cheeks blushing, she attempts to side step at the same time as he does. He laughs and tries to side step in the opposite direction, yet she can’t help but make the same mistake again. Hearing George giggle at the latest mishap, (y/n) tears her eyes away from his hand the eggs to look up at him.

Her breath once again hitches at the close proximity between the two. She can’t help but glance at his hair, smiling at how messy his waves look. Looking lower, she stares at his eyes, his eyes staring back with humor, probably to their blunders only moments ago. With eyes slowly decreasing of crinkles, he takes a small breath, just pausing as he looks at (y/n) with renewed curiosity. (y/n) slowly starts to glance even lower, settling at just his lips. She sees words coming out of his mouth, yet she’s zoned into the idea if her lips would mesh well with his. Maybe it’s her imagination, but George seems to pause and reciprocate the idea of looking at (y/n)’s lips, licking his bottom lip slightly to ease the dryness that seemed to fill the air.

Minds contemplating, (y/n) decides to inch her face closer to George, with George seeming to think the same. - Just a few more milli-

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH! The tea kettle whistles and George immediately jumps back, at a loss for words. Embarrassed at his sudden action, (y/n) hangs her head down, and mumbles out,

“I- I uh think I’ll have the tea later. Enjoy your breakfast. Wait, lun-, oh whatever”, (y/n) rushes out as she speed-walks to her room, with both cold plates of eggs, sweaty hands, and a confused George still holding onto the tea kettle, seemingly at odds with what just happened.

>>>

Maybe I’m just going crazy, (y/n) thought as she starts to heat up the popcorn. Quarantine is still in effect, and it has been a while since she’s seen other people. She’s only seen George and George only. Not that she minds, of course. With a sigh, she turns to the microwave, running her thoughts back to this morning, lost in her thoughts. Were we about to...?

“(y/n)!” George whispers. She whips her head around to see George standing in the doorway leading to the living room, a faint glow of yellow behind him. “Yes?” (y/n) asks as she takes the popcorn out of the microwave, cursing as she burns her hand on the paper bag.

“Isn’t it your choice tonight to decide on a movie?” He ponders, walking towards (y/n), her taking an instinctive step back. George raises an eyebrow but doesn’t question the sudden movement.

“I think so. How do you feel about Harry Potter?”

“Oh, come on! We watched Deathly Hallows Pt. 2 when you chose last time!” George groans as (y/n) moves past him into the living room, dead set on the film.

“So, we can start over again! Sorcerer’s Stone it is!”

“I don’t see how this- “ “George, please?”

Taking a moment to glance at (y/n), DVD in one hand, the other wrapped around her waist, George mutters a yes as she begins to put in the film.

“If we watch this, you’re playing Minecraft next time on stream”, he grumbles, grabbing a blanket to wrap around his body before settling onto the three-seater couch.

“I mean I suppose so��” (y/n) chuckles, grabbing another blanket and settles onto the couch. Only as she sat down did she realize she’s sitting in the middle of the couch, George sitting to the right of her.

“Didn’t we decide that you would sit on the left end of the couch and I would be at the other end, since you kick, and I tend to shuffle around a lot?” George smirks.

“I- “ (y/n) pauses. It’s true, she thought. She assumes she was happy choosing the film, that she decided to plop down beside him. Or so she thought. After taking a minute, she sighs and replies,

“Would you like me to mo- “ “No! It’s fine! Just unusual is all.” George says quietly.

“I can move if you want me to. I don’t have cooties, but I can move if you’d like.” (y/n) mumbles. Her heart slowly starts to beat faster with each passing second as silence begins to fill the room, the only light being the t.v. radiating in the background. Don’t make me move, George, (y/n) prays inside her thoughts.

After about a minute, George shakes his head.

“It’s fine. Sit!” He chuckles, before settling deeper into his spot. (y/n) breathes out a sigh of relief, thanking the heavens for him not noticing how much she’s blushing.

I’m fine, it’s just George, (y/n) repeats inside her head, no doubt failing. The movie begins to play, and (y/n) feels all of her worries fade away, smiling at watching her favorite childhood movie again. Relaxing deeper into the couch, her mind wanders back to the earlier memory of this morning again. Mind going numb with endless ideas, she failed to notice George’s arm tucked behind her head absentmindedly pulling her strands of her hair. He moves his hand slowly down to rest on her left shoulder, rubbing endless amounts of shapes, searing the imprint of warmth. Chest tight, she realizes the state she’s in with George, feeling the pressure raise higher as his hand remains there. (y/n) starts to sit frigidly, as if one wrong movement could set off dominoes. In this case, another awkward situation with the man she’s found herself lost for.

Where are we even in the movie? Really? Harry going to the zoo? Holy- (y/n)’s thoughts pause as George softly grips her shoulder - with her tensing up even more - before removing his hand to rest at his side, and (y/n) blushing at the sudden loss of contact. Cursing at her awkward being, she starts to readjust, hoping that George wouldn’t notice how wound up she is all from him. All from a shoulder touch, and she’s fully convinced she won’t ever recover from the man that is shy, sweet, confusing George. Still readjusting herself on the couch, she manages to cross her legs under her, holding onto George’s left thigh. Eyes wide, feeling George tense up, she manages to turn her head a bit to the side, to see George’s gaze on his thigh. (y/n) retracts her hand away.

“Sorry, you know how long these movies are…”, she mutters, cheeks flushing at the close contact. George can only cough and nod as he tries to focus back into the movie. I don’t know how much longer I can take this, (y/n) repeats into her head, trying to zone back into the movie.

>>>

How (y/n) was able to watch half of the movie without dying of embarrassment, she did not know. But she was thankful to appear normal in front of him, or so she would hope. Rigid with each movement, she felt scared making a move with the worry that she’d cause an uncomfortable situation. Yet, her head thought otherwise. I think I’d do just about anything for his warmth on me again, even if it’s just his hand on my shoulders, (y/n) thought.

The Golden Trio met Fluffy for the first time, and all (y/n) could think about (besides the man next to her) was going to Hogwarts, wishing it was real. The spells, the robes, Quidditch, everything about the universe has always called out to (y/n), and all she could do was endlessly hope it could potentially be a reality, even if she did look foolish for believing in that. George managed to discreetly glance to the side and see her dazed eyes zeroed onto the screen, and mouth moving to quote each line. All he could do was stare in awe, of her knowledge of this magical world, her persistence to memorizing each spell, and how there seemed to be a basking glow upon her figure. She looked like heaven, the epitome of warmth. What (y/n) couldn’t see was that he too, was enamored with her as she was with him.

George had an idea to test the waters. If she responded, he would continue. If she didn’t, he’d forget all about it and attempt to move on from the woman he was sure was the one. (y/n) saw from the corner of her eyes that George readjusted himself that while he was sitting casually beside her, he lowered his hand to rest on his thigh. Heart still stuttering, she lowers her eyes realizing that her thigh is directly next to his, mere millimeters from touching.

Rigid, she sits straight up, unintentionally knocking her thighs into George. She stares at their thighs, chuckles a bit and struggles to watch the movie again, knowing her thigh is definitely touching his thigh. With arms crossed against her waist, she can’t help but watch his hand in the mere hopes that it would ‘accidentally’ brush her thigh.

As she keeps her eye contact on his hand, George begins to tap his pinky finger on his thigh. He taps, wiggles, slides his pinky with his hand still resting on his thigh. While still resting his hand, he slowly starts to move his hand to the left, making it that his hand sat on part of his thigh, and the other part was on top of (y/n)’s thigh, starting to shyly tap his pinky on her thigh. Letting out a gasp, (y/n) could only freeze at his hand - no his pinky - tapping her thigh, and it’s already turning her into a nervous mess. What the hell is he doing to me?, (y/n) asks to herself.

If you go down this route, it’s past the point of no return…

But it’s worth it…

How can you even be sure if he feels the same?

(y/n) can’t help but engage in a battle with her thoughts before finally coming to a decision.

Yes.

With bated breath, she slowly moves her hands to rest on top of her thigh, the hand closest to George shaking slightly. With a bit more confidence, she begins to move her right pinky on her thigh, moving in contradicting patterns, just barely touching George’s thigh. Soon enough, their pinkies start to move in sync, and (y/n) can’t help but bask in his warmth, even if it’s just his pinky. So used to his pinky against hers, (y/n) eventually hooks her pinky against his, effectively stopping their movements.

George lets out a huff of air, and (y/n) freezes, overthinking that she went too far. A full two minutes pass, only hearing Harry Potter finding the Mirror of Erised, and silence from George himself. Getting ready to back off, she releases a breath and begins to retract her hand from George.

“Okay, I’ll just- “

George shuts her up with his hand on top of hers, effectively placing his hand of top of their thighs. He then releases a shuddering breath, only to be met with complete silence. (y/n) looks at their thighs, then their hands, then George, back to the movie, to him again. She starts to find the words, only to come out with nothing. What can come out of her mouth besides, your heart is all I need.

Taking a minute to regain her composure, she lowers her guard, opening her hand so slightly that his fingers fill in the spots in-between hers. With a soft smile, he slowly grips her fingers, starting to rub her thumb with his.

“I don’t think you understand how long I’ve wanted to hold your hand,” George mutters quietly, as if he were to speak any louder, he’d shatter the moment, whatever this moment is.

“And you think I haven’t?” (y/n) asks.

“I didn’t say that,” George pauses. “How would I know? There weren’t any signals, no signs or hints, (y/n).”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed, George. I’m always scared of messing up around you now. I can’t breathe, knowing that we breathe the same air. And how do you think I feel about us living under the same roof? I have to stop myself from tearing my hair out and- and stomping over to your room and just… confess. I’ve become desperate for your touch, yet I’m scared that if we pass that boundary, you wouldn’t feel the same! I mean, look at this morning, y- you- we almost kissed and you didn’t say anything! I assumed you just thought it was nothing, and we’d work past it. How is it not obvious that I’m in love with you!?” (y/n) blurts out, ripping her hand away from his, only for him to grip her hand again. Despite the nerves in her veins, she can’t help but relish in his hand still holding hers.

“Can you tell that my hands are shaking? Because they are, (y/n). Is it obvious that I don’t know what to do in situations like this? All I know is that just one look at you, I fall apart. I-I-I can’t begin to count all the times I’ve wanted to hold your hand. And that’s just holding your hand. Kissing you, calling you my Love, Darling, my Everything? I don’t know what else to say except that I fall apart from you. Everything you do makes me scared and I have no idea what to do, because I am just now realizing how much I adore you.” George confesses. (y/n) can only stare back with adoration, yet confusion swirling in her thoughts.

“You know, I can tell everyone how I feel. I love my mom, I love my sister, I love pets, I love One Direction, for gods’ sake! Yet if I say that to you… why is it that I feel like I would break apart? Saying those three words to you just confirms that I am so hopelessly in love with you, and anxious to tell you to be mine. Screw it, I want you to be mine, I’ve been yours. I am yours. I want everything and anything with you, and all I need is a yes. A yes from you is it for me.” (y/n) replies.

“I’m not good with my feelings, expressing them, especially with this. There’s no turning back.”

“Stop giving excuses.” She scoffs.

“I’m not. I’m giving you a way out. In the case that one day, you might not think that I am enough for you.”

“Who said you weren’t? You’re everything to me.” (y/n) says, and George whips his head up to face her. She continues on,

“I’m ready to be yours. Hell, I am yours. I-I can’t even begin to say how much I- “ “Love you. I love you, (y/n).” George blurts out, hands still grasping hers. Gasping, she takes a deep breath, finally ready to succumb to her desires.

“I love you, George.” (y/n) admits. George closes his eyes and softly smiles, before opening his eyes and looking back at (y/n). Now when he’s looking at her, does (y/n) realize how reciprocated her love for him was. Raising their conjoined hands to her face level, she places a kiss to his hands, with George releasing a heavy breath at the intimate action. With a smile, she lets go of his hands, George whining at the loss of contact of her hands.

“I think you’ll like this more.” (y/n) laughs. Slowly, she brings up her hands to cup his face, George immediately melting into her touch. With his head leaning towards one hand, he raises his hands to rub hers once more.

“You really like my hands, huh?” (y/n) remarks.

“They’re officially mine to hold. So, a short answer would be yes.” George smirks as (y/n) hums in content, feeling his stubble tickle the inside of her hands.

Grasping his face, (y/n) slowly tears her gaze away from his eyes to focus onto his lips, and for the first time, there’s a clear sign that he’s feeling the same. They both look at each other one last time, fully taken with one another, the space between them reducing by millimeters.

This is-

Finally capturing her lips, George shivers as (y/n) gasps into their kiss. Maybe he’s the heaven I’ve imagined. Perfection, (y/n) thought. After what seems to be minutes of giving into their desires, they pull back, chests heaving. George’s lips swollen, (y/n) can’t help but steal another kiss, earning a chuckle from George.

“I love you. You’re it for me. I- I love you” (y/n) repeats. George smiles for what seems to be the millionth time that day and says,

“I love you, (y/n). I- I am yours, and you’re mine.” George gushes. Going in for the third, but not final time, they embrace and kiss sweet nothings into their lips, each as a promise to love each other with no holding back.

#georgenotfound #gnf #georgenotfound x reader #gnf x reader #georgenotfound x y/n #gnf x y/n #georgenotfound x oc #gnf x oc #georgenotfound x you #gnf x you #myct george #myct x reader #myct #george myct #gnf myct #georgenotfound myct

185 notes · View notes

thegirlwhowritesawksh-t · 4 years ago

Text

la douleur de l'amour - georgenotfound x f!reader

author: @thegirlwhowritesawksh-t me!

word count: 4.7k +

warnings: hella angst, mentions of blood/scabs/injuries. if there’s any you think that you see, please let me know!

a/n: hi y’all :)) first off, to whoever’s reading this: stay hydrated, smile and laugh! and second: this is my submission for @bozowrites writing event! <33 congrats!!

**this is my second fic, and i’m hoping to push more out as i get more comfortable with writing! i’m thinking to maybe make a part two to this but i don't know yet. please let me know what you think! *sending besitos to y’all :))*

Prompt: Why are you crying?

1:15 p.m.

In the corner of a dimly lit studio in front of the barre, (y/n) leans over to her left, counting four beats before resetting and proceeding to stretch over her right side. After months spent choreographing, picking costumes, and endless bandages wrapped around her feet, it has led to the final product: her first piece in her dance company’s annual recital premiering tonight.

All (y/n) could feel was pure energy and pride at what she has created. It’s her baby after all and nothing could ruin the day for her.

Feeling her joints start to loosen up, she runs through a mental list in her head making sure each dancer had their costumes, knew where all the dancers would start and end on stage, as well as remembering her own choreography, seeing as she had an important section to end her piece. After double-checking, (y/n) then begins to travel to the center of the studio, and begins to run over the piece.

Remember the triple pirouette here, before you end with a leap to fourth position. Finishing in the fourth position, she lets out a curse as she accidently stubs her right thumb toe, a small scab already tearing at the edge. Shaking out her pain, she reattempts the move, succeeding with an effortless bow.

“You know, your piece is going to be excellent. Why are you so worried?”, a voice calls out in the quiet studio, with (y/n) yelping and trying to find where the voice came from. Standing against the edge of the doorway stood Liam, her dance partner and best friend. (y/n) begins to chuckle and runs the piece over again.

“Can’t help but make sure it’s perfect. I have drenched all my blood, sweat and tears creating this dance, this- this masterpiece. It is my first, and most certainly not my last choreographing piece at this company. There’s too much riding on this for me.”, she replies.

“Even if so, I’d like to think you’ll be fine. Don’t stress, it’s amazing. Otherwise, how are you feeling?”

“Kind of excited, kind of feeling like I should run away.”, (y/n) replies. Avoiding to answering the question entirely, she begins to run the piece over again. She continues,

“I think regardless, it should be a great night. George is coming to the recital tonight and it’ll be the first time he’ll be seeing this dance.” With George editing and recording videos for the Dream Team, his Twitch channel, and YouTube channels, (y/n)’s barely seen him since the start of the dance season. The only time she’s been able to spend time with him has been going to bed with him - even if it’s been a bit more rare lately - and sometimes, a free day on a weekend with no dance practice or no recording for George.

“So that’s why you are nervous, how cute.”, Liam laughs, with (y/n) leaping over to Liam and swatting their arm lightly.

“He swore that he’d come tonight, and he knows how much time I’ve spent perfecting this. I just can’t imagine tonight going any other way. I made sure to get him a seat right in the front, so he’ll be able to see the whole performance, and me.”, (y/n) smirks. As soon as (y/n) found out she would be choreographing one of the pieces in the recital, she immediately told George her good news. George had told her she deserved it for working her butt off since the start of her being at the dance academy. Making him pinky swear, George swore that he would be there for her first performance with her also starring as a choreographer.

“So focus on that instead of thinking your piece is going to crash and burn! Relax a bit. We only have a bit of time before we start getting ready, so let’s run it over a few more times. And don’t even think about slacking off now, missy, we’ll stretch and go get ready after.” Liam decides, and she nods, thinking it’s probably for the best. Running to her bag, (y/n) sends a quick message to George.

George J: hey, can’t wait to see you tonight! i left your ticket on your nightstand, and remember to dress up slightly, it’s a dance recital after all ;) lub you xo - sent at 1:34 p.m.

Content with her message, she tosses her phone back into her bag, and heads back to run over the piece with Liam once more.

>>>

6:47 p.m.

Sticking the last bobby-pin to her bun, (y/n) glances in the mirror to make sure no mistake is in place. Eyeing her look, she can’t help but smile looking at her dance attire, admiring how her purple leotard and dress matches her eyeshadow. Paired with a dark nude lip, she smirks and turns to check her phone for any messages, hoping that one could be from George.

Out of the nine messages she received, most were from friends and family, wishing her luck on her performance tonight. She replied with a thanks and a heart emoji before finally reading the last message coming from George about two hours ago.

George J: hi darling, i saw the ticket, i am so excited for you! can’t wait for you to take my breath away, as you always do. love you more xo - sent at 4:48 p.m.

Smiling even wider, (y/n) puts her phone on silent, before walking towards the backstage area, passing dancers along the way. Grabbing their hands and wishing them good luck, she arrives at the destination, nerves buzzing as members of the audience start gathering at their seats. Deciding to take a peek, (y/n) rushes to the curtains, peeking her eyes out towards the front rows, trying to spot the pale boy who danced into her heart. First row, seat G for George, she giggles to herself.

“Trying to find your lover? I’m right here!” Liam asks, with (y/n) turning around.

“As much as I’d love that, I’m no Harry Styles, so I don’t think I’m your type…” (y/n) smirks.

“Hm. Where’s George, I want to see him!”

“I’m looking for him right now, Liam. Give me a second.”, (y/n) laughs as she turns back to the audience. Finding his seat, she subtly frowns seeing as he’s not in his seat yet. He’s probably in the bathroom, or still in line to get to his seat, (y/n) tries to explain to herself.

“He’s not here yet, I think he’s in the bathroom or something. But give him time, he’ll be here.” (y/n) mutters as Liam frowns at her.

“He better show up, it’s your night, (y/n).”, they grumble. They start to say more however-

“Places, everyone! Take your places! We’re starting at seven sharp!” the stage manager yells out. He continues,

“We start in five minutes!” Rushing to get off the stage, she sees dancers brush past another wishing them luck. As the ballet dancers start to move into their places for the intro piece, she then walks over to Liam, helping them set up the microphone as they begin to breathe slowly.

“Hey, you got this. It’s just reading off of cue cards and announcing pieces. And then you’ll be set for my piece. You’re going to do great, Liam.”, (y/n) tries to motivate, with Liam smiling shyly at her.

“And your piece is going to kick ass, (y/n). It’s perfection. Just wait until George sees you dance. I’m a hundred percent sure he’s going to fall for you even more.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see…” (y/n) laughs. Liam clears their throat a bit before raising the microphone to their lips. (y/n) proceeds to head to the viewing room, where a broadcast of the show would play for other dancers to watch and support their fellow castmates.

Taking a deep breath, Liam starts to speak as (y/n)’s nerves start to palpitate.

“Hello, how are you this evening? And welcome to the 67th Annual Recital for the London Dance Academy! I am your emcee, Liam Barrings, and let me introduce you to the first dance of the night created by Sam Hastings. Here is Invictus!”

>>>

8:51 p.m.

An hour later, seven dances, and many whispered good jobs, it is finally time for (y/n) to step on stage and premiere her masterpiece. Slowly tip-toeing to her first position on stage, she glances at her castmates, thanking them silently in her mind for them to trust her to bring her visions to life. Before the curtains open, she turns to Liam on her right, kneeling down and grabbing her thighs, and they smile back at her.

“Ready for it?”, they smirk. Thinking to herself, she nods and turns back to the front of the curtains waiting for the music to begin. Remember the triple pirouette after Liam grabs you. And try to look like you’re in pain from loving him. It is exquisite pain, right (y/n)? Liam is toxic, yet you still love them. Make it believable. And finally, breathe.

Another emcee, Josh begins to speak.

“And now, I present to you (y/n - y/ln)’s dance. This is her first piece with her own choreography with the London Dance Academy, and tonight, we are the very first group of people to watch her story come to life. Please let me introduce you to (y/n) and her piece, La Douleur Exquise!” the audience claps softly, before the curtains open its wings to reveal the creation.

The background, a stark white, yet the lights casts hues of soft lilacs, with streaks of dark reds splattering across the dancers’ bodies. With a small pause, music begins to sing out of the speakers. Liam and (y/n) begin the piece with a small duet. Following closely behind, a quad of dancers mimicking their moves with childlike innocence.

Liam turns to (y/n), conveying an I love you through their linked hands and they abruptly pull her to their arms, as she looks at them with confusion in her eyes and pulling away. Gliding towards the middle, the quad walks slowly to (y/n), enveloping her with open arms, before having a dance section with (y/n) in the middle as Liam looks on, hellbent on grasping (y/n) once more. Every other beat, (y/n) turns to Liam, feeling lost as if they were missing from her.

As the quad looks away, having their own small solos, (y/n) slips away from the group only to leap back into Liam’s arms with her hands grasping their face as Liam slowly grips her waist. Looking at her with renewed interest, his face morphs into fury as one of the dancers pass by her, softly guiding his fingers from her shoulder down to her inner wrist. An angry duet starts, with Liam and (y/n) clashing against each other, as if saying they hate but love each other at the same time.

(y/n) leaps into Liam’s arms, before slowly sliding herself off him as the quad of dancers, follow closely behind, lifting (y/n) to her feet. Everyone proceeds to move as one, with the quad dancing in the center, whereas Liam paces their way to (y/n), lifting her into the air once again, before they land in a small leap. Conversing with their bodies, Liam guides (y/n)’s hands to their heart, slightly pulling her along. Finally coming to the end of the dance, (y/n) runs to the center of the stage, facing the audience.

Grabbing her left arm is Liam, pulling her to their side, and the quad of dancers are pulling her on her right. The war between the two goes back and forth in a tug-of-war before (y/n) seemingly gives up and slams herself to the ground, as the music fades into silence. The audience erupts into booming claps and cheers, and (y/n) feels herself being pulled up from the ground by Liam as a light blush covers her skin. Glancing up at the audience, she tries to smile despite the stage lights burning into her. I did it, I managed to make a story, my story come to life. Hearing the audience continuing to clap, realization sets in and she finds her eyes wandering over to the front row, seat G for George. Seat empty, her smile falters and her eyes become glassy. Some would think because of her success with her piece. She couldn’t tell if she was happy or sad, maybe it was a little bit of both.

>>>

9:23 p.m.

He’s here, he has to be. He’s probably peeing or waiting for me in the front with flowers, or in the dressing room. He has to be here, I know it, (y/n) mutters to herself, hellbent on her beliefs that George is here. Yet the bitter taste of rejection starts to seep into her bones. Shaking her head a bit and attempting to put on the brightest smile, she starts to rush back to the dressing room, a sinking feeling residing in her stomach with each looming step.

Facing the dressing room door, (y/n) can’t help but hope that maybe George is standing there with a bouquet of flowers and kisses reserved for her. Slowly opening the door, her hopes slip through with her mouth curling as she stares at only her reflection in the mirror. He swore that he’d be here. He swore that he would be here for my first performance, (y/n) softly whispers to herself, tears threatening to fall. Gasping, she finally lets herself breathe as she repeats to herself again and again that he wasn’t here.

A soft knock on the door interrupts her thoughts, causing (y/n) to quickly wipe her tears before foolishly yelling out,

“George?”, as the door opens to reveal Liam and the Director himself, Nicholas Anderson.

“(y/n)? It’s us. Where’s George?” Liam asks, a frown settling into his brows.

“Oh, he’s just in the bathroom, he hasn’t been feeling good.” She lies, feeling bile itch her throat. A little white lie shouldn’t hurt anyone, (y/n) thought.

“Hello, (y/n). You looked wonderful out there! Your dance was easily one of the highlights of the night, I couldn’t stop replaying the duet between you and Liam in my head. Your dance truly captured the aspects of a toxic relationship not from one side but from both of point of views. It truly showed exquisite pain, knowing that you would always go back to Liam, but would Liam be there for you?” Nicholas explains, his words smacking (y/n) at full force. Is- is George there for me?, (y/n) thinks to herself. Nicholas continues on,

“I think you are a great addition to our Academy, and tonight truly proved how ready you are to become a full-time member. So how about it? Next season, we’ll be adding you to the roster of choreographers.” Eyes wide, (y/n) nods furiously with a yes and hugs Liam. Nicholas smiles and exits the room, leaving behind two excited dancers jumping around.

“You did it! Now we have to celebrate! Club night, I don’t care. We are going to get plastered! Bring George!” Liam laughs. At the mention of George, her stomach turns as she then realizes George wasn’t here. What sounded like good news turns to rot as she starts thinking of George.

“Let me check my phone, it has been a while in the bathroom, huh?” (y/n) tries to joke, trying hard to not let her voice waver and letting her brain scramble to come up with another small lie. Reaching through her phone, she reads over the texts once again sent from family and friends, finding the conversation between her and George. No new messages, her heart sinks as she slowly starts to open up the rest of her notifications, scrolling to most likely find the purple box that would always stay permanently stuck on her home screen. With bright white letters glaring at her, her heart begins to ebb away feeling a familiar sense of loneliness.

1h, 53 min ago: MINECRAFT MANHUNT W/ THE DREAM TEAM

Relying on her emotions, she turns to face Liam, hoping that her excitement of her promotion would overcome the feeling of abandonment of the man she loved. Plastering a sad smile through watery eyes, she forces out,

“George isn’t feeling well, he’s got an upset stomach. I think it’s the stomach flu going around.” If you can convey pain through dance, you can lie through this as well, (y/n) thought. She continues,

“I don’t know if I should be going out since he’s sick.” (y/n) mutters.

“So we go without him! It’s your celebration, his loss.” Liam rolls their eyes. His loss, my loss - seems like the same.

“I- I don’t know, Liam… I’d want to celebrate with him as well.”

“And I get that, but at least go out with us. You always have tomorrow with him, or later tonight. Do it for tonight, do it because you’re going to be a choreographer next season! At least do it for me and the group. We’ve worked our ass all season and we made your vision come true.” Liam explains. Contemplating with herself, (y/n) resolves with a soft smile and mutters an okay. Pumping their fist in the air, Liam excuses themselves to notify the others of the good news and plans.

Once again facing the mirror, (y/n) repeats with determination to celebrate her night. It’s her night to celebrate with loved ones, even if the one she loved the most isn’t there beside her. So much trying to take your breath away when you weren’t even here, George. Taking a breath, she forces out a shaky laugh and tries to smile. Let’s go celebrate, (y/n).

>>>

1:39 a.m.

Slightly stumbling out of the taxi, (y/n) manages to slowly walk her way up to his doorsteps, phone still showing that George was still streaming. Pausing her hand on the doorknob, she resolves to try to wait until morning to confront him, not trusting herself completely to be okay in front of him. Opening the door softly, she walk in, attempting to not make a sound. With small steps, she closes and locks the door before setting her bags down. That can be cleaned tomorrow, (y/n) thought. Rubbing her eyes, she decides to make herself tea before she goes to bed, most likely not with George until he finishes his stream.

While making her tea, (y/n) thinks of everything that she has worked for in the last few months. Endless changes to her dance, countless small injuries, whether it be a jammed toe/finger, scrapes of blood scattered around her feet from dragging her feet too hard across the floor, everything. Why is it that with her triumph, she is beyond proud yet the idea of George not being there to witness her moment shatters that accomplishment? Mulling it over, she doesn’t notice George bustling down the stairs, finished with his successful 5 hour stream with Dream and Sapnap. Spotting (y/n) making her tea, he slowly approaches her and wraps his arms around her waist, landing a soft kiss to her shoulders.

“Why are you home late, Darling? It’s nearly almost two in the morning.”, George chuckles, as (y/n) freezes in his arms. Softly shaking her head, she tries to side-step out of his arms and brings her tea to the opposite side of the room, wrapping an arm around herself. Clearly, he didn’t remember, (y/n) slowly starts to think and repeat to herself.

“Why do you think I was out, George?” she softly asks, taking a sip of tea to calm her nerves. I guess we’re just going to have to hash it out now.

“I don’t know, but did you see the stream? I beat Dream at the last second and he was this close to defeating the Ender Dragon!”, George starts to explain while laughing, with (y/n) taking a harsh breath in. Pinching in-between her brows, she snaps,

“No, George, I didn’t see the stream because I went out to celebrate.”, she mutters, tears slowly starting to escape.

“(y/n)? Is there something wrong? Why are you crying?“ Turning around, (y/n) tries to look anywhere but him. She settles on looking at the clock, watching as time went by, and her nerves increasing with each second. George starts to say more-

“I needed you tonight. Do you remember what tonight was? To my career? To me?”, (y/n) cuts him off. Standing there without a thought, dread slowly seeps in as George realizes that he missed her performance. He starts to stutter,

“Darling, I- “

“No! No. You do not get to apologize. I needed you and where were you? Sitting on your ass playing Minecraft with Dream and Sapnap! I get that your career is very reliant on you being consistent with your uploads, but you couldn’t have taken a night off? For me? I- ”

“(y/n), it’s not like that at- “

“Don’t- just don’t try to explain or come up with excuses. I just don’t want to hear it George. I spent months working on this, exhausted yet still pushing myself for the damn Academy. You swore that you would be there. I left you the ticket on your nightstand, you even texted me saying that you were excited to come! So imagine me standing on stage, looking at the front row, seat G, and where the hell were you? Not there, George. You were not there. I looked like a fool waiting for you to see me perform and dance. Do you remember Nicholas Anderson?”, (y/n) tries to ask calmly. George only stare at her with defeated eyes as he shakes his head no. Cursing, she heaves out a breath before continuing,

“He’s the director of the Academy, George. He’s offered me a position to be a permanent member and choreographer for the London Dance Academy. So please, let me ask again: where were you? I had to lie to Liam and say that you had an upset stomach and that you couldn’t come out! So, Liam invited me to celebrate with the dancers, to celebrate tonight’s success.”

“(y/n)- (y/n), we can celebrate now. I know- I truly know I messed up, but I can fix it, we can celebrate right now!” George stumbles out, walking towards her to grab her hands. Stepping back, she glares at George, appalled that he truly thinks he could resolve this. Shaking her head harshly, she bites out,

“I don’t want to celebrate with you. I’ve already celebrated with loved ones.” Rolling his eyes, George tries to reason with (y/n).

“Okay, I get it. I’m the bad guy in this scenario. But I’m trying to make this right. I am so sorry, darling, but I want to make it up to you, you know I am sorry.”

“You know, I never ask you to cancel a stream or get off of the stream. I always try to understand for the life of me why the streams have to be long, but I try. I always watch your streams and interact with your fans for your sake. I’ve had to explain countless reasons as to why you never show up to my performances, or why you can’t go out with me with the other dancers. And I am okay with it, don’t get me wrong. I know how much Twitch and YouTube and the Dream Team means to you. But you mean everything to me as well. So forgive me if I wanted to be a little selfish and ask you to support me in one of the biggest performances of my life.”

“I can go to the next one, (y/n). It’s not like it’s the last performance.” George snaps.

“You don’t get it, do you?”, she asks, wiping furiously at her tears, trying to not stutter through her words.

“What is there to get? Clearly I’m trying my hardest to make it up to you.”, he replies.

“I love you. I’m so much in love with you, it hurts. But you don’t get it. I have been there for everything in your career. Your first hundred subscribers, your first million subscribers, when you won the MCC back to back, everything. This was- is the important night of my life, and you didn’t show up. You stuck with Dream and Sapnap and decided to stream instead. This night was important for my career, and you knew! I told you months and weeks in advance. I wanted you to take charge and clear your schedule for today and- and sit in the damn seat that I chose because G stood for George. It was for you.” She sobs out, chest shaking as she tries to collect the words tumbling out of her mouth. With eyes flashing in annoyance, George tries to speak over her tears,

“(y/n)- “

“I created this dance for you! For me and- and for us. Because we believed in each other and had the support for each other. Clearly, it was one-sided and tonight proved that.”

“(y/n), listen to me- ”, George stops himself. Watching (y/n) fall apart, he takes a shaky breath and tries to walk closer to (y/n). However, (y/n) takes more steps back, leaving a distance of hostility and guilt between the two lovers.

“I love you. I love you with all of my heart. And… and I know you love me. But I needed you. Do you even need me?” she asks, the thick silence covering the air.

“Yes! How- how could you even say that, (y/n)?“ George replies just as quick as she finished asking. Looking at him for the first time tonight, she lets out a sob. With cheeks red, hands tugging at his hair, and George frantically looking at her, (y/n) can’t help but cry a little more.

“Because tonight proved otherwise. I wanted a night of you to myself to watch me be pretty and dance, and you didn’t even give up one night for me.”, she says, tugging at her sweater. Looking up, she further goes on to say,

“How stupid would it be if I were to ask to choose between me or the Dream Team? Or- Or your career?”, barking out a bitter laugh as George stares with guilt. As silence meets her ears, (y/n) slowly starts to sober up, eyes slightly widening with shock.

“George…”

“I’d find a way to make it work, I’ve been making it work for us since the beginning!” George snaps.

“George, you know I would never ask that, because I personally think it’s a selfish question. But if I decided to ask seriously, right now. What’s your answer?”

“And I’m telling you, I am making both work. Please believe me, (y/n).”, George says quietly, grasping at whatever opportunities there are left to resolve this potentially fatal matter.

“I can’t tell anymore.”, her voice cracking as fresh tears pool down her cheeks.

“I don’t think I can stay here for a while. At least until I’ve had some time to think.”, she manages to force out.

“(y/n), you can’t be serious. No, we are fixing this now!” George tries to say with an unwavering voice, eyes slowly becoming glassy.

“I can’t look at you George without wanting to cry, and- and scream- yet tell you I love you, even if you don’t deserve my love, especially right now. I need to go- I’m going to go. I’ll be back in a while.”, (y/n) says, choking on her words. Walking backwards, she turns to the door, with George following her and watching her pick up her dance bags. Lying on the ground was a bouquet of flowers, crumpled amongst her heart. Choosing not to pick up the bouquet, she mumbles out,

“I’ll call you when I’m ready.” Pausing, (y/n) looks up at George for the final time tonight, willing herself to not run back to him, despite how much the desire is growing to do so.

“I love you, George.”, opening the door, George yells out,

“I love- “, the door cutting through his confession, acting as a wall between the two. George tries to reach the door knob, ready to run after the love of his life. Yet… he’s frozen on the spot, with tears finally trickling down his cheeks, and pushing deep breaths out to steady his shaking heart.

Why are you crying, George?

146 notes · View notes