───── BEING WITH GEORGE for five years has been nothing but bliss and joy for the pair of you. The only downside that came from the relationship was the constant heckling of fan girls and the occasional spur of hate you’d get online for just simply existing around George. Majority of the fans were so lovely and supportive, but there was always that small handful that had to ruin things.

You were fucking astounded when he proposed to you on a random date. Sure, it was a fancy restaurant and you both much preferred a lazy takeaway in, but it really shocked you when you were walking back to the apartment and he stopped you in front of a flower stall to get down on his knee.

And now, a year and a bit later, you were getting married to him.

Your dress was gorgeous, with a tight lace corset and a long, flowing skirt. You felt yourself getting emotional while you were getting your makeup done but you managed to control yourself.

Your bridesmaids were all your influencer friends — Faith, Talia, Freya, Flo, Liv and George’s sister: Emily.

You’d gone for a pink theme for your wedding — well for the bridesmaids anyway. George’s favourite colour was blue, so his groomsmen had gone for light blue tuxedos while he was in a sleek black suit.

The main wedding ceremony was rather small, only choosing to include family and closest friends, but your reception? Well, you’d gone all out for that.

You’d changed your dress into something shorter and ballet-slipper pink, so you could dance as much as you wanted without your skirt getting in the way. You’d also swapped your heels out for white ballet pumps.

George wanted to do a stupid song for your first dance, but you’d told him that he could play his wack ass Dizzi Rascal later, and to have the first dance be something sweet. And so, the lovely anthem of Fuck It I Love You by Lana Del Rey played through the speakers as you tucked your head under his chin and loosely rested your hands on his shoulders, his hands falling on your waist.