octaneink

[octaneink]

From the Pushing It Down and Praying series

Something, Somehow, Someday | WillNE

This fic is a bit of backstory/continuation from the previously uploaded part ‘Where We Start’. You can find all of the links and bits here on the link below. For the most part, these chapters are in chronological order. But the context is necessary!!

A week post drunk yap in George’s bath

It was moving day. Y/N found herself sitting on the floor of her empty flat. She’d spent the last week having tough conversations with Alex - chats about dividing their finances, finding their new apartments, letting go of the future they’d once dreamed of. It wasn’t easy, farewelling the familiar. Alex had taken it well. The “I love you but I don’t think I’m your forever person” had landed better than Y/N had expected. Turns out he had known it had gone stale too. He didn’t raise his voice or beg her to stay. He had simply just said, “I think you’re right. We’ve outgrown each other.” All that said, the emotional part was heavy.

Y/N had plans to run with Theo, but found herself packing her belongings. Alex was still hanging around, packing up the last of his vinyls. They’d ultimately decided to both move out of their shared place, feeling like a new place would help them to start fresh. A quick call to Theo with a rushed explanation of “sorry mate I can’t come today, Alex and I have split so I’m moving my things out” hadn’t put him at ease like she’d hope it would. Instead, he’d panicked and immediately put a call into a few of the boys for help.

30 minutes later, Theo was walking through her front door, coffee tray in one hand and an almond croissant in the other. “You didn’t sound too good on the phone. I thought you could use some help”, handing her a coffee and croissant before wrapping his arms around her and embracing her in a hug.

“A hug would’ve been enough but the coffee and pastry is the cherry on top.” She smiled softly, letting out a breath.

“I thought it might be” Theo laughed, squeezing her tighter.

Catching a glimpse of Alex in his peripheral, Theo pulled away. “Hey mate!” He approached, hugging him. Alex had once been a part of the fold. He was happy to host dinners at home, attended the group parties and participated in the fun runs. The group loved him as much as they loved Y/N. But at some point, he stopped joining in. He got busy at work, found his own group of friends, wrapped himself up in his own interests.

“Okay so, professional cleaner is coming on Tuesday,” Alex spoke to Y/N. “Is there anything you need my help with before I take off?”.

“Okay. Well. This probably won’t be the last time I see you, but I just want to say,” Alex looked toward Theo, who took the hint and attempted to look busy. “Thank you. I’m really sorry things didn’t work out between us.”

“I dunno, I’d say they did. We’ve got nearly a decade of success.” She grinned, holding her arms out for a hug. She spoke quietly in his ear, “how lucky am I that you are the first man I’ve ever truly loved.”

Alex, not knowing how to respond, just held on a little tighter. A few moments later, they pulled apart, his hands softly grabbing her cheeks. He kissed her gently. “Love you.”

And with that, he put his key on the counter and walked out of the apartment.

“That nearly put a tear in my fucking eye.” Theo spoke from across the flat. He caught her eye, the two of them immediately breaking into laughter.

A thump at the door silenced them. “The fuck are you two cackling at?” Freezy spoke, sending them into giggles again.

—-

Theo had organised for the rest of the boys to meet them at Y/N’s new flat. Lux had been sent to IKEA to pick up the remainder of her flat pack furniture, Reev had stopped in at the garden nursery to pick up a few pieces for her and Harry was expected to be late (but would arrive with alcohol).

Freezy, Y/N and Theo lay spread across the floor of the new apartment. They’d taken turns dragging box after box into the service elevator, eventually deciding to call it a day and pass off the work to the others.

Not long after, Lux arrived with the boot of his car stacked to the brim. He walked through the door, carrying several IKEA boxes. “Right, where do you want this?”.

Y/N chuckled, biting back the lump in her throat. “Bedroom. Those look like bookshelves.”

Putting the box down in the bedroom, he walked back out. “And where do you want me?”.

She sat up and held her arms out for a hug. Lux grabbed her hands, pulling her up and into a tight embrace. He spoke softly. “You and I have been friends for a long time, so I don’t always feel like I have to tell you I love you. Because you already know. But I do.”

“I know. I love you too. Thanks for being here.” She spoke, voice muffled by his shoulder.

The rest of the crew - Reev and Harry - showed up not long after, but it was Theo, Freezy and Lux who held her together. They were like the big brothers she had always wanted.

Hours later, they were sat on the living room floor assembling a flat pack shelf when Harry approached her, handing her a glass of wine. “I brought something a bit stronger too but thought I’d test the waters.” He laughed, leaning down to kiss her temple. Theo took over the assembly, taking her screwdriver. “Go sit down.”

Y/N took a seat on the couch, Lux sitting beside her and offering a quiet presence. “You know I’d totally understand if you wanted to have a quiet minute in the bathroom.” He spoke, searching her eyes. They had all felt the way she had been on edge, as if she were terrified to close the chapter.

“I’m okay,” she had replied with a tearful smile. He just wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into him, as they watched Theo fight with the flat pack.

“You’re not okay,” Lux spoke softly. “And we love you all the same.”

By the time sunset had come along, Y/N was mostly unpacked. Theo had put together and organised her bookshelves, Freezy had hung her artwork, Lux had colour coded her wardrobe, Reev had placed her favourite plants around the apartment and set up her vinyl collection, while Harry cleaned as they went and refilled their drinks. Sat on her couch and beanbags, the six of them shared Chinese food and watched an episode of a shitty show.

Will had messaged her: “Hey, call me later.”

She hadn’t yet, but she would.

———-

In the days following the move, Y/N found herself adjusting to the quiet.

It was all new - only cooking meals for one, not having to worry about someone else’s socks ending up in her laundry. She’d gotten to a new normal. Freya had kept her busy, taking her out on long walks, while Talia invited her over for pasta nights at her and Simon’s place.

Unsurprisingly, the boys rallied around her.

Theo would stop in at her office to have lunch with her, bringing her pieces of PR he’d received so they could unbox it together. She came home to find her favourite bottle of wine on the doormat with a tag on it reading “saw this and thought you’d like it - Harry xoxo”. Lux had shown up on a Thursday evening armed with takeaway, having rented one of her favourite movies to his Amazon Prime account. They showed up.

She also called Will. He listened.

——

Post dinner antics and his first tour of the apartment, Y/N decided to invite Will over .

I got a bottle of red with our names on it, she’d texted. And a cosy looking bathtub to yap in.

Be right there.

He opened the door to her flat, finding her on the couch with a cup of tea in hand. She was in flannel pyjamas, hair in a bun, pimple cream in its all glory. It was the most her she’d looked in a while.

He kicked off his shoes like he’d done it a hundred times before and grinned. “It smells like you’ve been baking.”

“Oh, I have. There’s some brownies for you.”

They sat on opposite ends of her couch this time, knees touching.

Their plans to sit in the bath and yap had been abandoned, choosing to instead sit on the couch, drink tea and share warm brownies.

“I’ve got a thought,” Will spoke, mouth full of baked goods.

“Oh fuck, that’s a scary thought.” Y/N laughed.

“Oi!” He laughed, jabbing her knee. “Why don’t we save the bath chats for the scary stuff?”. He paused. “Wait, poor choice of words. Bath chats are for when you wanna tell the truth but it’s a little frightening.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Also reserved as an excuse to abandon loud parties.” She quirked an eyebrow.

“Done deal.”

A few hours later, she sat on the couch as Will dug through her vinyl collection.

Putting on one of her favourite Joni Mitchell records, he sat back down.

“I like this version of you,” Will said quietly, as she leaned her head on the armrest.

“What version’s that?” she murmured.

“The one who finally chose herself.”

——

By now, everyone knew. Will was in love with Y/N. Y/N was in love with Will. She was just going through it. Hadn’t finished grieving the end of the better part of a decade.

There was no secret between friends like theirs. Lux had caught Will staring at her once during dinner, and didn’t even need to say anything. He just patted his back and passed him another drink.

Theo had pulled Y/N aside at the dinner where she’d spilled her guts and told her, “When you’re ready, he’s ready. But until then, we’ve got you.”

Even George, who had pushed a little too hard at the Clarke-Hill-Dixon tour celebration had shown up at the reception desk of her work with flowers and coffee from her favourite cafe. “I feel like we have this sibling relationship sometimes and I took it too far,” he’d apologised. “These probably aren’t as good as any sort of bouquet Will would get you.”

“What’s Will got to do with you bringing me flowers?” She had asked.

“I figured you’d realised you were in love with him by now.” He’d replied, grin cheeky as ever.

——

About 4 weeks later, it happened.

They hadn’t kissed yet.

They hadn’t needed to.

She wasn’t ready.

He wasn’t going to push her. Instead, he kept a respectful distance. He’d known her for over a decade. He’d been in love with her for years. Waiting 6 weeks for her to deprogram from her relationship was the least he could do.

On a Saturday evening, they walked out of the cinema after sharing a few glasses of wine and a bucket of popcorn.

Stopping under a street lamp, Y/N stopped in her tracks. Will stopped too. “You okay?”.

“I think I’m there. I’ve arrived somewhere, I think,” she said softly.

He didn’t ask what she meant. He just nodded, gently resting a hand on her cheek. “Okay.”

And as they arrived at her door, she hesitated to close the door behind her.

“Will. Can you do me a favour?” She spoke softly.

“Yeah, what’s that?”.

“Kiss me.”

He stood closer, searching her eyes for any hint of cold feet. His hands found her waist, gently pulling her in. He leant down, their lips gently brushing before they eventually met.

Her hands traced along his arms, finding a place to rest in his hair.

Will broke the kiss to speak, murmuring “I can’t believe this is happening”. Y/N spoke, “you are so hot but shut up”. He didn’t need to be told a second time, stepping into her apartment and backing her into the wall by the door, devouring her in a searing kiss.

Goosebumps spread across her skin, his hands leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched. A decade of watching her love someone else. A decade of longing, loving, yearning for her when he didn’t have a name for it yet. A decade of her loving the wrong person, when he’d been in front of her the whole time. The kiss said it all.

She was his. He was hers.

No more pushing it down.

—

A/N: Annnnnd we’ve unlocked a new part! Let me know your thoughts pls xx

I do have a part related to this that just explores the platonic relationships within the group. Is this something you guys would be interested in? I know that some of you tend to enjoy the character building chapters 💌

TAGLIST: @mosviqu @octaneink @clarkeysbedchem @mrswillne @meglouise00 @jonnybernthalslover @clarkey4life @asmoothoperator @clarkeyscvntymullet (opt in or out any time - drop me a DM or comment) 🩵

[octaneink]

AAAAAAAAAA okay im gonna lose it. I dont really have a specific idea on the confession part to be honest so i shall leave that up to you 🫣 but omg this is gonna make my whole entire year 🥹

- 🦦 anon

🫡🫡🫡

Say less I hope you like it when it comes out!

[octaneink]

hey just wondering if u deleted the george post the other anons are talking about? i’m feeling deprived 😓😓

Hii! Don't worry, it's not deleted!

You can click here to read it! It's called Slut me out!

[octaneink]

say it once with feeling

chris dixon x fem reader - angst

summary: after being with chris for 5 years, you start to feel like the relationship has run its course.

masterlist | main masterlist

You pottered the kitchen in yours and Chris’ flat, a pan of water bubbling on the stove as you chopped at the carrots on the chopping board. A light hum of music drifting through the air as you sang along lowly, the noise of the world around you drowning out. You were so distracted that you hadn’t heard the rattle of the keys on my front door, or the clicking of the front door closing, or the sound of Chris’ feet entering the kitchen.

You did hear the annoyed sigh that left his mouth when he turned off your speaker and the scoff when he walked back down the haul to his office.

The look of frustration on his face made your heart twist and you let out your own sigh, except yours was disheartened. Every ounce of your body pooled with sadness as you chewed on your cheek, you dropped the knife letting it clatter on the chopping board before making your way to the office.

Your knuckled rapped on the door softly before twisted the handle pushing it open, “Hey, sweetie,” You offered a soft smile to your boyfriend, who was hunched over his desk, “how was filming?”

“Fine.”

The sharpness of his words cut through your chest like a knife, and you gulped down your tears nodding, “That’s good! Did you get any good shots?” You asked, trying to pull a conversation from him.

“Yeah, it was fine.”

It was like trying to draw blood from a stone, every conversation over the past few months was you constantly asking and Chris giving short answers. You were falling apart in the hands of your relationship, and you didn’t know what to do or how to fix it – you just wanted your Chris back.

The Chris who used to dance with you in the kitchen, the Chris who used to shower you in compliments and gifts, the Chris who used to come home from work and tell you every detail of his day.

“Oh, okay.” You tried to force a smile as you approached him, hands slipping his shoulder that tensed under your touch, “Food will be down in ten.”

“Okay,” He sighed, looking up at you over his shoulder, “thanks.”

“Of course.”

You pressed a kiss to the top of his head before leaving the office, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill with every step. You threw yourself back into dinner, the low music no longer heard, and the faint sounds of Chris’ voice muffled through the walls, his laugh bouncing around the flat but not for you to hear.

Once everything was cooked and plated up, you set the table even though you knew you’d be eating alone. You took a deep breath shaking out your hands before you walked to the office, two taps on the door, “Chris, dinners ready.”

“Kay.”

You pursed your lips, “Can you come eat with me, please?”

You flinched at the way your voice broke at the end of your sentence, and the way your hand trembled as it wrapped around the handle. The sound of an aggravated groan echoed through the office, “I’m busy, babe.”

The abnormal nickname falling off his tongue made bile rise in your throat and you pushed the door open, “Chris, please.” You begged.

He spun around in his desk chair looking up at your sad eyes and yet his had no emotion in them. You were stood in front of him like a scolded child blinking back tears and lip quivering, “I said I’m busy, I’ll eat later.”

You didn’t move. Neither did Chris.

Then a tear slipped down your cheek.

“Why are you crying?” He asked, but it wasn’t out of concern for you, it was like you were an inconvenience to him.

“Because we haven’t spent any time together in three months, Chris!” You bawled, finally letting all your emotions tumble from you, “You won’t even look at me for more than a second.”

“That’s not true,” He breathed, brushing it off as he turned back to face his computer.

You let out a watery laugh furiously wiping the tears that cascaded down your neck, “Chris, please. Please can you just talk to me?”

He whipped around pushing himself onto his feet, “What do you want me to say?” He asked, throwing his arms out in frustration, “I don’t know what you want from me!”

“I want you to be my boyfriend, Chris!”

The words lingered between the pair of you, sitting in a silence that was deafening. Chris just stared at you; his eyes void of any emotions – all except irritation. He ran his hands through hair, “I am being your boyfriend, what are you talking about?”

“When was the last time we went on a date? When was the last time we had a conversation that was longer than five sentences?”

You threw the questions at him like a game of dodgeball, his mouth bobbing open and you tossed another one before he could answer, “When was the last time you said I love you.”

That seemed to strike a nerve. His breath shook as he scratched at his beard, “Of course I love you.”

“Yeah?” You muttered, “Doesn’t feel like it.”

Chris squeezed his eyes shut and he pushed the words out, “I love you.”

The words fell from his mouth and there was no sincerity behind it. His curling in a thin line and a cough following afterwards, you laughed.

A bitter, disappointed laugh that came out before you could stop it. Your eyes locked on his for the first time in a long time and it crushed you. The love they once held completely gone, and you knew it was over.

“Come find me when you can say it with some sort of feeling.”

taglist: @jamiekluivert @roc-haze @whisperturnedecho @graceln4 @dopeysunflowers @super-gay-for-u @bethorwhateverr @livvymd @lilyyxoii @4ngelrealm @canyouseethesainz @happyclifford @golden-hoax @tatumrileyslover @wherethezoes-at @themdera @xlovergirlx @smzyyx @bowielovesyou @pretendyoucantseeme @elhotchner @duolingofanaccount @pookietv @ooostarwarsfandom501st @triplefrontierbabe @formulaa-1 @clarkeyscvntymullet @sdmnpact

[octaneink]

YOUR GEORGE SMUT IS INSANE. the way u write is like magical istg. also his arms… im drooling

THANK YOU SO MUCH AAAAAA I'M GLAD YOU ENJOYED IT!!!

And YES!!! They are. I wanna bite em...

[octaneink]

🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

Thank you for that George Clarkey!!! It was great!!! 🥵🥵🥵 loved it

Eehehehe I'm glad you enjoyed it!! I had to pause a few times while writing it, I was blushing🤭🤭🤭

[octaneink]

LORD HAVE MERCY WHEN YOU SAID IN RESPONSE TO MY ASK YOU’D PUBLISH THE GEORGE REQUEST I DIDN’T EXPECT T H A T 😳🫣

gonna have to request Chris or Arthur Fred(idk which one you write for!) - maybe something with a long distance relationship? Say reader lives four hours or so away from London, so they don’t see each other as much as they’d like too.

Can be fluff, angst, smut, mix of two or mix of all three! thank youu x

🤭🤭🤭I like to keep people on their toes!

I've never written for Chris or Arthur F, but I am happy to try writing for Arthur F first! (I hope you don't mind)

And that sounds good! I think right now, my idea is to have fluff, hurt + angst, then comfort. I hope thats okay!

[octaneink]

we need more mutual pining for will 🙏🙏 i am here for the YEARNING and SLOWBURN and FRIENDS TO LOVERS BUT EVERYONE KNOWS YALL LOVE EACH OTHER... ugh 😪 no pressure but please and thank you 🥹 i absolutely love ur writing mwah

You want YEARNING?

You want SLOWBURN??

You want MUTUAL PINING???

THEN THAT IS WHAT YOU'LL GET!!

Hm, I'll need to plan this out... Do you want a specific way for the two of them to get together? Jealousy, confessions from both sides that get interrupted, everyone tries to get the two of them together, or a completely different idea?

And holy shit 🤗🤗thank you so much! You're so kind! Thanks for interacting with my work

If you answer anon, please use 🦦!

[octaneink]

Continuation from “I Was Neon”.

Southern Sun | WillNE

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

After spending the day exploring the local cafe strip in the CBD, the boys raiding Y/N’s pantry and taking over the pool in her apartment complex, they were ready to explore. Y/N had changed out her footy gear for tourist clothes - decked out in linen, Birkenstocks and a dad hat she’d copped from one of the players she worked with. She was determined to squeeze in as much Perth as she could.

The next morning, the crew was up early. Y/N and Lachie had planned out their day to a tee. First stop was a drive up to Cottesloe Beach for a walk along the water and coffee from the local food trucks.

Lachie was determined to teach them AFL, and had them kicking a footy around while Will disappeared. Y/N and Lux sat on the wall along the stretch of beach, laughing to themselves as she explained the rules. Will wandered over with two drinks, handing her one without asking. “Flat white, almond milk. I remembered,” he said, a smug smile tugging at his lips. She gave him an exaggerated gasp, before following up with a sincere “thanks”.

Lachie had somehow wrangled the boys into the respective cars, the original late night Maccas crew in the same car with the others following. The rest of the morning was spent exploring the rest of Freo. They ran around the markets, bought tickets to see the old Fremantle Gaol, tried a matcha from the cafe strip and the local boutique stores.

Ethan and Harry got stopped by a street interviewer, who was quick to ask them their opinions on the current political climate - to which Y/N and Lachie immediately ran in to pull them out. Harry would manage to finally be cancelled. Josh and Freezy immersed themselves in the music scene, dancing around the buskers and stopping to chat with the local gallery owners. Lunch rolled around and they found themselves by the water yet again, yapping away. Y/N and Lachie were busy educating their guests about the existence of drop bears (or lack thereof). Will had picked a fight with a seagull, copping a chip to the face from his new favourite roommate.

“Oi, what the fuck?” He laughed, whipping around.

“You can tell she works in footy. Look at the aim on her.” Lachie high fived the other Australian.

Late afternoon rolled around and they found themselves back at Y/N’s apartment complex, rotting away in the pool. Will and Simon sat on the edge of the pool as the rest of them swam around. Will had a disposable camera in hand, snapping photos of his mates.

Y/N swam up, holding her hands out.

He looked over at her, the wind tugging at strands of her hair. She didn’t say anything, just reached out and took the camera, turning it to face him.

“Want me to pose?” he asked.

“Nah. Might make the head look squarer.”

—

Dinner reservations were made for 6:30pm. Lachie had pulled some strings and gotten a table at a rooftop bar overlooking the Swan River. The dress code was smart casual - the boys were all decked out in nice linen shirts and out of hoodies for the first time since they’d arrived. Y/N had traded in her work polo for an actual dress.

As they went through appetisers for the table and shared their first round of drinks, Simon started looking around the table. “Do you think we should do a toast?”.

Simon raised his glass. “To Australia and to our local tour guide.” He gestured to Y/N. “Thanks for not kicking us out of your house. And for keeping the boys from getting kicked out of the country today.”

Everyone took turns clinking their glasses, and Y/N flushed but raised hers in return. “Just wait till you hit Melbourne.”

Will, sat to her left, leaned in closer. “I don’t think the trip could get much better. You’re setting quite a precedent.”

“Oh, I never disappoint.” She winked.

By the time the dinner plates were cleared, it was almost dark outside. Tiramisu was ordered for the table, the cocktail menu was brought out and Will took it as an opportunity to grab Y/N away from the group.

The view was incredible. The lights made the water look almost iridescent. She leaned on the railing of the rooftop balcony, unbeknownst to Will’s staring beside her.

“Don’t want to leave tomorrow,” Will admitted.

Y/N looked at him. “You’re not going far.”

“No,” he said. “But it’s not the place I’m worried about.”

Her breath hitched slightly. “Yeah?”

Will didn’t look away. “It’s weird. I’ve known you for three days. But it doesn’t feel that way.”

She smiled softly, teasing. “That’s because you live in my house.”

He laughed. “That’s probably it.”

They stood in comfortable silence, Will eventually deciding to break it.

“I’m glad I came here,” he said quietly.

She met his eyes. “Me too.”

Back at the table, Lachlan leaned over to Freezy, nodding towards the two leaning over the railing. “Told you.”

“Told me what?”

“That someone was gonna fall for her.”

Freezy took a sip of his drink, watching the two interacting.

“You may be right,” he said. “But I think she might be heading that way too.”

—

Y/N was curled up by the plane window, a hoodie tucked under her chin, one AirPod had fallen out and the other was being used to watch the newest episode of the MomTok ladies.

Will was beside her, flipping through the in-flight entertainment book. “As if these planes don’t have screens,” he’d complained. Most of the group had crashed hard the moment the plane had taken off, but Y/N had Will next to her wanting to yap for the whole 4 hour flight.

Will glanced sideways. “Do you think Melbourne will top Perth? From a tourist perspective.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Not a chance.”

“You’re biased. Wanna back that statement?”

She stretched her legs out and yawned. “Perth’s my home. You don’t beat home. Plus, this next leg is a bit chaotic for me. I’ve only got tonight with you guys, then I’m off.”

He frowned slightly. “Where to?”

“Meeting with another footy club tomorrow morning. They’ve got a media seminar thing on that I can’t miss.” She gave him a pointed look. “I’m in the room next to you and Lux, please no noise after I put myself to bed.”

“No promises.” He winked.

She rolled her eyes .

They both sat quietly for a moment, but the peace didn’t last long. Will jabbed her shoulder gently. “Alright. Explain it to me again.”

She blinked. “Explain what?”

“This whole 2025 AFL premiership thing. Who’s winning?”.

Y/N laughed. “Okay, so it’s Round 11. At the moment, Sydney and Brisbane are top four material. The Pies are dominating. Carlton’s had a shocking start, Essendon’s somehow overachieving, and the Cats have snuck their way back into contention. Again.”

Will looked intrigued. “And your lot? West Coast?”

She let out a short laugh. “Bottom four. We’re rebuilding. But not in the way that Man United are rebuilding. We’ve got a fairly new lineup, they just need the game experience.”

Will quirked an eyebrow. “Well. In your expert opinion, where do you think you’ll end up?”.

She grinned. “Harley Reid’s basically dragging us up the ladder kicking and screaming. We’ll find out.”

Will rested his head back. “So who’s winning?”.

“Might be too early to tell. Brisbane are starting to look like flag potential. Collingwood has the best culture, they play the best consistently. The Daicos brothers plus Steele and a strong midfield? Game over.”

“Alright,” he said, pointing at her, “if I pick a team, you have to buy me merch from them.”

“That’s risky. But then again, you are a Newcastle fan.”

-

A/N: Finally a part two to the Aussie series! ✨✨

Taglist for this series:

@jonnybernthalslover @breaboo @asmoothoperator @valntynebaby

[octaneink]

From the ‘Pushing It Down and Praying’ series. Find the masterlist here.

Layla | WillNE

Pushing It Down and Praying - Will’s Perspective

Warning: George comes off as the bad guy here. In the first editions of this series, we get a lot of backstory about her friendships with the group and the comfortability. George’s reaction here is obviously not reflective of what we see on screen - it’s just necessary for the angst ✨

Will’s Perspective

It had been one of those weeks.

Not for him, necessarily. It’d been a week of inconveniences. Ieuan was working on another project, both of his usual editors were unwell. For the first time in a hot minute, Will had edited his own content from start to finish. But walking into the Clarke-Dixon-Hill flat, it was clear that the heaviness in the air wasn’t on his account.

Arthur’s last minute “the tour has sold out” party was meant to be a chill gathering. Most nights at their flat were peaceful, ending in a few games of FIFA and depending on if Chris had done a shop - sometimes they’d secure a tea and some biccies. Walking in, though, it wasn’t the chill, laidback night he’d assumed it to be. It was loud music, girls gossiping in corners and George deciding to roleplay the bartender from hell.

Will hadn’t even wanted to come at first, but when Lux had casually mentioned she’d be there, that was enough.

Y/N lit up a room. She walked in and it was like the light suddenly got brighter. Freya had once described her as “sunshine in human form”, and Will didn’t think there was a term more fitting for who she was. Tonight wasn’t any different, except for a certain tiredness behind her eyes and a stiffness in her posture. Almost like she was on edge. However, that could be totally attributed to George’s ongoing interrogation.

Will stayed mostly in the corner with Simon and Josh, faking interest in their conversation about golf, but his eyes kept drifting back to her. She’d parked herself at the kitchen bench, making her way through a cocktail that George probably shouldn’t have served anyone with taste buds. Will didn’t miss the way she’d poured half of it into the houseplant once George turned his back to her. Y/N didn’t notice Will watching. But George did.

And of course, with alcohol in his system and lowered inhibitions, George had zero filter.

The hair on the back of Will’s neck went up the second he heard George ask, “Not to sound like a prick, Y/N, but where’s Alex?” Too loud, too direct. Making the bustling room feel like a pin could drop.

He glanced at Lux, who was already clocking the conversation from across the room. Freezy, too. They exchanged a look and made their way over. The tone had shifted, but George had no clue he’d just crossed a line. The boys had been around Y/N for an almost a decade. They knew that this conversation wouldn’t well.

George pressed again, lips pursed. “Do you love him?”

Talia had beat the boys to it, not letting her respond. “Give it a rest, George. She’s come straight from work. Let her chill before you interrogate her.”

Thank god, Will thought.

Still, Will saw how her shoulders relaxed like she’d been holding her breath the entire time. Freya and Talia were behind her now, getting her comfy on the couches. She looked like she needed softness.

But he kept close, moving to the kitchen where Freezy was nursing a beer.

“That was rough,” Freezy muttered under his breath.

Will nodded. “I don’t get why he pushes like that. It’s not his place.”

“She’s already stretched thin,” Freezy said, glancing toward the couch where she was now sitting, surrounded by the girls. “I just worry that the newer guys feel like they are entitled to poke at her.”

Lux wandered over, resting a hand on Freezy’s shoulder. “He saw Will gawking at her. That’s what set him off. Maybe he’s jealous.”

Will sighed, rubbing his temple. “If anyone makes her feel like shit tonight, I’m saying something. Just a heads up.”

Freezy quirked an eyebrow. “About time. Everyone knows you’re down bad.”

“Shut up Cal,” Will said, too tired to pretend. “This isn’t about that. It’s just… she deserves better than being put on trial in the middle of a party.”

They watched her laugh weakly at something Talia said. She looked grateful to be away from the questions, but exhausted.

——

He didn’t get a chance to speak to her again until later that night, after Chris had followed her into George’s ensuite. The girls had been the ultimate protection detail, keeping her to themselves. Will lingered nearby, waiting to check on her. When Chris left, he gave Will a nod, patting his shoulder.

He knocked on the door, bottle of wine in hand.

“Why don’t we just sit in the bath, chat shit, and drink this expensive wine I copped from Mr Calfreezy?”

She pulled off her shoes and climbed into the bath like it was the most natural thing in the world. And suddenly, they were back to that familiar rhythm. Their knees touching, their voices soft, the rest of the party slipping into the background.

He let her talk. Didn’t interrupt. Just passed the bottle back and forth, actively listening and adding in the occasional joke when it called for some comedic relief.

She opened up about Alex. The relationship. How it wasn’t working out. Things he already thought he knew, but were confirmed finally.

Will fought the urge to tell her how he felt. But in all the scenarios and all the ways he’d imagined telling her, none of them included her feeling this tired and worn down.

Instead, he told her the truth: that he cared. That she could call whenever she was ready, and he’d answer.

No pressure.

——

Later, George came in. Freezy and Lux weren’t too far behind him.

“Out,” he said, trying to play it off with a grin. “Go be social. You’re stealing my ensuite.”

Will stood up first. “Mate, maybe read the room next time, yeah?”

George’s brows furrowed. “What’s your problem?”

Freezy appeared at the door. “You are. She’s in here opening up about the very thing you pushed her to talk about.”

Lux stood by the door, arms crossed. You okay, he mouthed to her.

Will’s voice was calm but firm. “We’re her mates. We love her. Your delivery has been a bit shit tonight. Figure that out before you pour your next round.”

George looked stunned. No one ever called him out. But to his credit, he didn’t argue. There wasn’t a bad bone in his body. He’d just taken it slightly too far.

Will turned back to Freezy and Lux. “Thanks for that.”

Freezy smirked. “Don’t thank me. I only came in here to see my best friend.” Pointing to Y/N, both boys scoffed.

——

Outside, walking her home, arms linked, she laughed like she hadn’t in days.

When they stood in front of her flat, she pulled him into a hug, hanging on and savouring the moment. And he almost kissed her.

Almost.

But he stood back.

“Oh fuck. Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’ve made it weird now.”

Her response was soft, but steady. “No, you haven’t. I just need some time to figure out my shit first. It’s not fair to Alex.”

He nodded. “I know. I meant what I said.”

And she smiled. “If I call…”

“I’ll answer.”

A week later, she called.

You know the rest. He answered.

——-

A/N: Feel free to drop any thoughts below or in my inbox!

Taglist: @clarkeysbedchem @octaneink @artvscvntymullet @mosviqu

[octaneink]

I think you’re everything I ever wanted | part two

part one | part three

summary: the day after the breakup, will and the reader fall into an overly comfortable situation

masterlist | main masterlist

You stirred the next morning; the glow of the Monegasque sun dripped through the lace curtains spilling over your frame that was sprawled out with the duvet half draped over you. A tired grumbled passed your lips as you stretched out, hand searching the other side of the bed for a warm body, but it wasn’t there.

You pried your eyes open head turning to the side that once occupied Will, and your heart dropped. What did you expect? Of course, he’d regret it. You felt so foolish for thinking that even for a second that Will meant any of it. The compliments he showered on you, the protection he offered, the comfort he provided.

A shaky sigh left your lips as you pushed yourself off the bed slowly building the confidence to make your way to the living room. You paced by the door hands trembling at your side before you reached for the handle pulling it open. You expected silence as you walked down the small corridor but instead you could hear a faint hum and low music.

Will whipped around at the sound of your feet hitting the hard floor, his eyes bright and smile wide, “Good morning,” his voice still rough with sleep, “Uh, breakfast is on the counter. Croissants, fruits, toast, I wasn’t sure what you’d want so I just got a bit of everything.”

A smile played on the corners of your lips and your heart ached in a way you had never felt before. He ushered you over to the counter, “Come on, let’s eat, got a long day a head of us.”

Will waltzed over to you, his hands spread over your hips like it was the most natural thing for him, but the butterflies that erupted in your stomach told a different story. He you around in his hold, leading you to the kitchen. You felt warm, like that feeling they describe in the movies when you get all mushy inside.

You leaned back into the counter as Will handed you a mug of coffee, the heat radiating through the cup and spreading through your hands, “Your suitcase is in the living room by the way, d’know if you saw.”

“Thank you,” You mumbled, sipping your coffee, a sigh leaving your mouth as the bitter liquid trickled down your throat, “Have you, um, spoken to anyone?”

“I spoke to Arthur this morning,” He nodded, handing you a plate of food, “He just asked if you were okay, I said you were.”

“Bold.” Your eyes twinkled slightly, biting into a strawberry as Will chuckled.

“Seemed pretty okay to me.”

Your jaw slacked with a shocked laugh leaving your lips, “Don’t get too cocky, William.”

“It’s hard not too,” He smirked, leaning down his lips ghosting your ear, “especially when I have a pretty girl crawling into my bed.”

Your breath shook, turning your head looking him in the eyes as your lips brushed for a moment, then Will pulled away like nothing had happened leaving for his room. Your hand clamped over your mouth as you giggled, a giddy feeling swirling in your chest watching the space where Will had been standing.

The sounds of bird songs filtered in through the open window mixing with the rhythm playing through your phone as you danced in time with the music. As you dragged your straighteners down the last strand of hair, Will appeared in the doorway leaning against as he locked eyes with you through the mirror. A small smile played on your lips, “Everything okay?”

Will nodded crossing his arms over his chest, “Just checking on you.”

“I’m okay,” You nodded, a smiling brightly at him as you brushed your finger through your hair, “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

You pursed your lips as the words left your mouth and you shook your head, “Uh, lemme take that back.”

Will chuckled softly, “You almost ready? We gotta leave in like ten minutes.”

You spun on your heel now fully facing him, “All ready.”

A fond smile found its way onto Will face as you basked in the glow of the sun and warm lights, “You look nice,” He complimented, draping his arm over your shoulder casually, pulling you close to his side.

It was strange to Will that this felt normal. The entirety of last night and this morning filled with a quiet domesticity that was just right, like you slotted perfectly into the little life he had made for himself and now a part of his didn’t want you to go.

His hand brushed over your shoulder moving your hair gently as his long fingers slid under the sleeve of your shirt, “This is cute.”

Your cheeks burned at the contact as a coy smile graced your lips, “Thank you. You look nice too.”

“Thank you, doll,” He smirked, watching your eyes drift over his outfit linger on his hands for a breath, “C’mon.”

The adrenaline and excitement from the race had started to leave your system as you curled into a silent daze on the villa sofa. Your eyes fluttering open and shut trying to fight it as you put your focus on the film Will had picked out, but it was a lot more difficult than you had anticipated as Will’s hands massaged into your sore calves.

The pressure of his hands hit right where you needed pulling a small moan from your lips, and Will’s hands paused their movements. You squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment burying your face into the cushion under your head mumbling, “Sorry.”

Will’s hands repeated his previous motion and this time you bit down on your lips catching your sounds, “Does that feel good?”

You hummed in response, turning your head feeling his eyes burning into your temple, “Sorry.”

“Stop apologising.” He grumbled, his hands looping under your knees pulling you into his lap with ease, “Don’t need to apologise for anything with me.”

“Right, yeah, sorry. Shit.” You mumbled, making Will laugh slightly.

His hand cupped your neck gently, thumb travelling along the angle of your jaw. Then his thumb pressed onto your bottom lip pulling it down, your breath hitch in your chest.

His eyes focused soley on your lips watching as they parted slightly, and Will took it upon himself to press further into them. Without a rational thought in your head, your lips opened wider taking his thumb between them as you hallowed your cheeks.

“Fucking hell.” He whispered, enraptured by the sight of you, “You might the death of me.”

Your tongue swirled around his thumb, never once breaking the heated eye contact between. The action went straight to Will’s head making him almost lose control, but he pulled his thumb out with a pop, and you pouted.

“Trust me pet, I’d love nothing more for you to do more but I don’t think now is the right time.”

It made sense, of course it did. You were fresh out of a long-term relationship, but that didn’t stop every image and fantasy from filling your head anytime you looked at Will, “I know.”

He nodded, dropping his hand to your hip tapping it twice ducking his head close to your ear, “I can’t promise that next time I’ll stop though.”

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yourusername ngl i could run faster then them cars

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bambinobecky beauty, show stopping, breathtaking

┃ yourusername im in love with you

userone literal angel

usertwo no AB pictures??? hmmm 🤔

theburntchip course we’ll have a look

┃ yourusername diva down 😓

userthree the first dress is stun ❤️‍🩹

willne poser

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sabinablair_ beauty 🥰

┃ yourusername lysm my girl 😘

[octaneink]

i think you’re everything i’ve wanted

part two

will lenney x fem reader

summary: a fun trip in monaco turns into heartbreak and finding whats right

masterlist | main masterlist

cw: cheating, ab is a dick icl, age gap (reader is 21, will is 29) - if theres anymore let me know

The glow of the mediterranean sun burned over your bare shoulders as you stood with Will, leaning against the railing of the yacht sipping your white wine. The conversation between the pair of you flowing from one topic to another, in a way that only happens between true friends.

But you couldn’t control the way your eyes continuously flickered over to your boyfriend past Will’s shoulder, smiling softly at the scene a few feet away from you. Alfie smiled brilliantly as he danced with Becky, spinning her around by her hand whilst Chip filmed them laughing hysterically.

“Sorry, am I blocking your view?”

Will’s words made you snap your attention back to him as you smiled shyly, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, pet.” He teased, moving himself from in front of you, “Watch your boyfriend.”

You laughed shaking your head pulling Will back by his sleeve. Will chuckled, his eyes crinkling as he flashed a toothy smile. From a distance, Alfie watched you both, watched how your hand lingered on Will’s bicep for a beat longer than appreciated and how Will wrapped his shirt around your shoulders to stop you from burning.

A pit of rage boiling in his stomach as he scoffed turning away from the sight making Jo, a beauty influencer who you had all met on the trip, look up at him from her seat, “Everything okay?” She asked, batting her eyelashes.

Alfie glanced down, barely sparing a second of his time, “Grand, yeah.”

Jo placed an overly friendly hand on his flashing a flirty smile, “I’m gonna go get another drink.”

Becky and Chip were too deep into their babbling to even hear them as they left the group, but you noticed – if looks could kill, that girl would be dead.

Your eyes narrowed venomously on her figure as she looped her arm around your boyfriends walking over to the bar with a beaming smile and a bounce in her step. A bubble of uncertainty burst in your stomach as you watched them closely, completely ignoring Will’s presence and Arthur as he approached you both.

Your mind fully focused on your boyfriend as he paid for another girls drink, not even asking if you’d like another. Will placed a hand flat on your shoulder making your body turn then your head followed, “Want another?”

His finger tapped your empty glass, and you nodded smiling meekly letting him take it from your hand motioning for you to follow. You approached the bar with a lump forming in your throat and tears forming in your eyes which you tried to ignore.

Just like how your boyfriend was ignoring you, his attention fully on the other girl.

Will peered over at you, his eyes softening when he saw the pout lingering on your lips, “You okay?” He asked, leaning down so his lips brushed against the shell of your ear.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. You turned around flattening your hands on the bar as you chewed your lip, “Sorry.”

“Why you apologising?”

You shrugged, looking up at him with glassy eyes making his heart shattered. He placed a comforting hand on your back moving his thumb to draw careful circles into the fabric of his shirt that was still wrapped around you.

Will turned around searching for Alfie, assuming you would prefer your boyfriend to comfort you, only to see him leaning against the railing leaning in close to a girl – a girl who wasn’t you – and his blood started to boil.

Arthur hand you both your drinks before following Will’s hardened stare. When his eyes landed on Alfie and Jo, he cursed under his breath looking at you sympathetically as you wiped the tears that has slipped down your cheek.

“Do you want us to get Becks?” Arthur asked, and you shook your head.

“I’m okay,” You sniffled, flashing a smile that couldn’t quite reach your eyes like it usually did, “honestly.”

The boys nodded not fully believing your words. Arthur made his way back to the group and Will’s hand stayed in its place at the middle of your back walking you through the crowd away from prying eyes.

As you both settled down on the cream sofa, you let out a sigh swirling the wine in your glass. Will’s gentle eyes moved over your features not knowing what to say or do, but he knew he had to be here for you.

He delicately grabbed the glass from your hand putting it on the floor by his feet along with his beer, “C’mere.”

You leaned into his welcoming hold and the tears you had been fighting began their descend from your eyes to his t-shirt. Your hand covered your mouth muffling the sounds of your sobs and Will held you close resting his chin on the top of your head.

From across the boat, Alfie’s eyes wandered over the crowd of faces looking for yours and when he couldn’t find you an anger flamed in his chest, “Arthur!” He called out making the man look over at him and he was not hiding the distaste in his eyes, “Where’s y/n?”

Arthur shrugged dramatically, “She’s your girlfriend, remember?”

Becky and Chip pursed their lips at Arthur’s words trying to hide their laughter as they turned around.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Nothing, man,” Arthur said coolly, “Just that you should know where your girlfriend is, but how could you when you haven’t even spoken to her in like 3 hours?”

Alfie gritted his teeth scoffing as he pushed himself off the railing winding his way through the crowd to find you, “Fucking ridiculous.” He grumbled, shaking his head.

As he found his way to the back of the boat he spotted you, leaning into Will’s side with bloodshot eyes and pouted lips, “What the fuck?” He blurted, approaching you with his hands thrown out to his side.

You stood up quickly tripping over your feet to get to him, “What are you doing?” He asked, eyes darkened with rage as they flicked between you and Will assuming the worst, “Did you fuck him?”

The words crashed down on like a tonne of bricks, and you stepped towards him shaking your head, “What? No, of course I didn’t.” You answered, hands reaching for his, but he pushed them away, “I didn’t do anything!”

Will stood up, arms across his chest and jaw clenched.

“You’re such a fucking slag.”

The words fell from your boyfriends – well, ex boyfriends – lips like daggers piercing into your heart as your mouth fell open in disbelief.

“I didn’t do anything.” Your voice cracking, hands trembled at your sides, “We were just talking.”

Alfie let out a laugh that dripped in sarcasm, “Yeah, talking.”

“We did!”

Alfie’s hands balled into a fist at his side as his nostrils flared in frustration. The sudden display of anger made Will step forward blocking you from Alfie, “Alright, that’s enough, yeah? Go back to Chip and that, we’ll come find youse when everything’s calmed down.”

“Don’t fucking bother.”

Alfie stormed off making a b-line for Jo, who had been watching the scene from a distance with a small victorious smile on her face.

Will’s lips curled in disgust as he watched Alfie sling his arm around the girls shoulders pulling her into him. He turned around crouching down slightly cupping your soaked cheeks into his palms, “Hey, you’re okay.” He tried to comfort you, but it didn’t stop the broken sobs that shook your frame, “Let’s go, yeah?”

You nodded dropping your head down low letting Will slip his hand into yours to guide you over to the ladder to get to the lifeboats.

The blistering sun had begun to set as the taxi pulled up outside of Will’s villa, casting a soft gold hue over the building. You were completely wrecked. Cheeks and neck stained with tears. Both of Will’s shirts damp and mascara stained.

He reached for your hand, helping you out of the car as his hand hovered over the small of your back leading you to the front door.

“The bathrooms just down that hall,” He pointed, placing your bags on the sofa, “You can shower, bath, whatever you want.”

You smiled, “Thank you.”

Will’s heart tugged at the crack in your voice, his head shaking on instinct. His hand reached up brushing away the fallen curls from in front of your eyes, “No need to thank me.”

“I haven’t got any spare clothes,” You remembered, picking at the hem of your skirt, “They’re at the other villa.”

Will shook his head, “Arthur said Chip sent one of the boys to fetch them for you.”

A small oh passed your lips.

That meant they all knew you were with Will, obviously they knew. But there was something about Will telling them. Did he tell them about the argument? About you crying? Then, as if he could hear the cogs in your brain going over time, his hand grabbed yours, thumb dragging over your knuckles, “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

You gulped, nodding.

“Go shower, and I’ll fetch a clean shirt and towels in, okay?”

Half an hour later, and you felt like you had successfully scrubbed the day off your body. Your entire body lingered with the smell of Will, his body wash and shampoo clinging onto you.

You felt better.

The quiet noise of a one-sided conversation bounced off the walls as you padded down the hallway, trying not to disturb Will. Your fingers curled at the hem of the shirt Will had given you pulling at it, overly aware that it only reached the middle of your thighs.

But the sound of you entering the room made Will cut his conversation short, he glanced over his shoulder at you flashing a smile, “Alright mate, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

You shuffled over to the patchwork sofa sitting on it stiffly, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, that was Chip just seeing if you’re okay.” He said, placing his phone on the coffee table before looking at you locking on your sad eyes, “Are you okay?”

You nodded, your heart squeezing at the words, “I will be.” Your words came out soft, barely audible, as you cracked your knuckles pressing your lips in a line, “Can I tell you something?”

“Course.”

���I think mine and Alfie’s relationship ran its course ages ago, but neither of us wanted to admit it,” You confessed, refusing to look up from your lap, “we’ve been together since we were 14 and now, we’re 21 almost 22. It felt like a performance, like a part I had to play. It should’ve ended ages ago.”

You lifted your head looking at Will, “Sorry, I don’t know why I’ve told you that.”

“That’s alright,” He shrugged, his hand landing on your knee squeezing gently and a small gasp fell from your lips at the feeling, “I’m always here if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Will.”

“Anytime, love.”

And with that, he pushed himself up off the coach disappearing down the corridor pulling as he tugged his shirt over his head.

Later that night, you laid curled into the corner of the sofa with a small blanket wrapped draped over you. The air in the villa warm and still around. You couldn’t sleep, your mind going 100mph as you tossed and turned.

Every thought in your head surrounded on the Geordie man in the other room.

You sat up biting down on your cheek as you fought internally with yourself. You knew you shouldn’t go, it was morally wrong, but you couldn’t stop thinking about it. His hand on your skin, the way his warm breath fanned against your cheek – your mind was full of Will.

The blanket fell into a puddle around your feet as you stood up. The cold of the wood floor flooded up your legs as you made your way to Will’s room pushing the door open slightly making him turn to face you.

“What’s wrong?”

His voice was groggy as he sat up, the duvet falling to his waist revealing his toned chest that was being shadowed from the hallway light that flooded in, “Couldn’t sleep.

A breathy laugh left his mouth as he lifted the duvet inviting you in. You accepted gratefully pattering over to the bed and slipping under it. You moved into a comfortable position sighing in relief and Will’s warmth radiated against you making you sink closer to him without even realising.

He stiffened feeling your clothed back against his bare chest not knowing what to do. He shifted onto his back draping his one arm his stomach, the other flopped to his side as he stared at the ceiling through the darkness, feeling your even breaths against his arm.

“Will?” You whispered, soft voice blending with the darkness, “Are you awake?”

“Yeah.”

You copied his position, dropping onto your back hand brushing brushing slightly making both your breaths hitch, “Sorry.” You muttered, moving it to lay on your stomach.

“That’s alright.”

Then a silence fell.

It was a thick silence, filled with tension and unspoken words, and it was growing unbearable with every passing minute. You felt like one wrong breath and the world was going to collapse under you.

Will coughed awkwardly, hand moving above his head as you let out a shaky sigh, “Will?” You muttered, head tilting up against the pillow to look at him.

He hummed looking down at you, your lips parting slightly and eyes glossy under the moonlight that shone through the gaps in the curtains. You looked truly breathtaking like this, as if the Gods themselves had built you. His hand moved from his side brushing your messy waves from your shoulders and you shivered.

“Can I kiss you?”

Will knew it wasn’t a good idea; you had just broken up with your long-term boyfriend. But with you here, looking at him like that, asking him that. How could he possibly say no?

He leaned down capturing your lips with his. Your lips moved tactically against each other, every shift or action purposeful and delicate. Will dropped his hand to your waist, his wamr hand kneading into the bare flesh of your hip.

“Is that okay?” Will muttered against your lips and you nodded taking a deep breath.

He dove straight back in, the kiss became heated as he pulled you closer and you shifted your leg to drape over his hips, one hand of his tangling in your hair pulling gasps from your lips. Your own hands found their place at his jaw as they slid into his soft mullet massage the base of his neck.

You pulled away for a moment forehead against his as your breaths came out ragged. You pushed yourself to sat up slightly looking down at Will, he reached up his thumb caressing your cheek softly.

His eyes danced over your features, staring at you like you were the only thing on this planet, “What?” You giggled, laying a hand on his chest.

“What?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because you’re beautiful.”

Your breath hitched at his words, and you sat up straight hands dropping to your lap. Will furrowed his eyebrows mimicking your actions pressing his back into headboard, “What just happened?”

“You, uh, you called me beautiful…”

“Yeah,” Will nodded, tilting his head too look at you, “What’s wrong with that?”

“I, I’ve never,” You muttered, shrinking into yourself in embarrassment, “Nobody’s said that to me before.”

Will looked utterly shocked at your words, his hand tilting your head up to look at him, “You’re the most beautiful person, I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

Your heart stuttered as you let him pull you closer to him. His words sticking into your brain like honey, warming your heart as you smiled shyly, “Don’t ever forget it.” He muttered against your lips, “Okay?”

You gave a quick nod and he locked your lips again moving you onto your back hovering above you as his lips fluttered over your sun kissed skin to your neck. Every peck was accompanied with a compliment that melted into your skin.

Your hands dragged over his warm skin in a featherlight touch as your breath shook, feeling him make his way back up to your lips with one last peck, “Goodnight, love.”

“G’night, Will.” You murmured, curling into his side.

His hands twirled into the end of your hair as he held you close – hoping that he’ll never have to let you go. Your breath started to even out as the sound of his heartbeat slowly lulled you to sleep, and you silently prayed that it would always be this way.

taglist: @jamiekluivert @roc-haze @whisperturnedecho @graceln4 @dopeysunflowers @super-gay-for-u @bethorwhateverr @livvymd @lilyyxoii @4ngelrealm @canyouseethesainz @happyclifford @golden-hoax @tatumrileyslover @madforgeorge @wherethezoes-at @themdera @xlovergirlx @smzyyx @bowielovesyou @pretendyoucantseeme @elhotchner @duolingofanaccount @pookietv @ooostarwarsfandom501st @triplefrontierbabe @formulaa-1 @clarkeyscvntymullet

[octaneink]

I really liked your being nice fic

Would you do a pt 2?

Still Nice

Description: Y/n becomes a regular on James and Wills videos. And yet even as the videos continue he is nothing but nice.

"And as you all expected we are joined by Y/n!" James made booing sounds after as you smiled and gave a small wave.

You were in nearly every third video, being requested by the fans no matter how many times you were on camera.

You had a playful but grounded approach to everything that the audience really related to. Rather than using a YouTube announcer voice and playing up the dramatics you were just yourself.

"Ah fuck off James, she's more popular with the fans than you are now." Will joked, he was sat in the middle.

"So what's the video even about?" Y/n asked clasping her hands together. Just as she said that a box was slammed on the table infront of her.

"Lost packages! We got our grubby little hands on 10 of them today." Will wiggled his fingers as he began to rip open the box.

Inside was light bulbs, him and James taking turns making jokes and you watching and chiming in occasionally.

Will always looking at you when you spoke. He would completely face you, his eyes soft and a smile that couldn't help but shine.

"I reckon there will be a dozen more edits made of you two from this video alone." James groaned as he watched. "Probably even more of me being a third wheel."

Will didn't bother denying it, he would never tell anyone but he loved the edits fans made of him and you.

It was cringy sure, but he enjoyed seeing people recognise you twos love. Made him feel more secure.

"Will comments on nearly every edit." Y/n revealed, her innocent voice cutting him like a knife.

"Does he now?" James asked, raising an eyebrow. At the exact same time Wills ears burnt red and he tried to move on with the video.

As the video continued Will was sharper with James, him not wanting to risk being embarrassed again. A few jokes had caught you off guard but he didn't want to stop.

"Maybe if you didn't sound like a fucking dying hamster you would have a singing career." Will said to James, the other man mocking offence, but as he said it he saw you react.

You weren't laughing.

"You're such a dick!" James shouted as he laughed, "I bet you're even more of an ass to Y/n without the cameras." Y/n looked away uncomfortable. Making James continue speaking

"Oh shit is he actually a dick??" Will shoots him a glare and the next box is thrown on the table and they continue. The air thick with tension.

After the shoot and you two were back home Will stood in the kitchen staring at the kettle. This wasn't common for him, so you were a bit worried.

"You okay hun?" You asked walking into the room. His body language was relaxed but distant. You could tell he was in his head.

"Do you think I'm mean?" His voice was shaky. He didn't look away from the kettle. The water was barely bubbly.

"No, I know its all jokes with James." You said, placing a hand on his back, rubbing it in circles. He didn't move.

"Are you ever scared of me?" You shook your head. "Sometimes I think you think its really me. That I'm an asshole." You can see tears well up in his eyes.

Finally tearing his body away from the counter you held his face in your hands. The grip a little tight as his cheeks smooshed together.

"Will, I am not in love with the man who is on the screen. I am in live with you." The tears fall as you continue "I'm in love with the man who texts me good morning despite sleeping in the bed next to me, the man who carries me when I don't want to walk, the man who is nothing but nice to me."

Wills shoulders shake, a sob raking through him. He breaks down and tells you his fears of being mean, that the hard shell he surrounds himself with will one day push you away.

You calm him down and as the water cools you bring him to bed. The two of you lying side by side.

The air is cool and his cheeks are puffy from crying, but he still looks like the handsome man you fell in love with.

"I love you Mr. Lenney." You say kissing his nose.

"I love you so much more Mrs. Lenney."

One thing you know for sure as you drift off is that your boyfriend is still nice.

[octaneink]

Total Hater

Description: Will can be jealous, but seeing you jealous? He melts.

Will was not someone who hates people. He disliked people for a multitude of reasons but never quite hated anyone, then he met you.

You were the flame that lit the fire inside him. The wind behind his sails, and the reason why he began to hate.

You were kind, beautiful, smart, and the funniest person in the room. Of course you had admirers. That's who he began to hate.

Every guy who stared a little too long at you, the "barista that went out of his way" to remember your order, and every man who dared to ask for your number at the pub.

He'd joke that having such a hottie like you was a confidence boost but in reality it was stressing him out.

He trusted you one hundred percent. It was just the men that flocked around you that he worried about. You were loyal, he knew that.

You'd tease him about it, how hostile he could be over the smallest things, but you knew it had something deeper to it.

Honestly he was driving himself crazy thinking about it, until one day when you had done some that surprised him.

Meeting at the pub with Arthur and George became a new activity that was becoming a tradition. With some shared pints and even more shared laughs.

Will had offered to grab you your next drink, just a Guinness he told himself when a girl came up beside him. He didn't spare her a glance.

"You should buy me a drink," he was more focused on trying to remember if you had wanted a regular Guinness or a black current Guinness. "Or maybe even take a shot with me?" She batted her eyelashes.

He mumbled a sure to her before feeling a dark feeling wash over him. Looking back to your table he saw Y/n giving him a look.

The same look a mother would giver her child when the child messes up so horrifically but she can't explode because they're in public kind of look.

Continuing to watch her he took a closer look at her gaze, it hadn't been directed at him but rather the girl next to him.

"So? Are you going to buy me that shot?" The girl grinned up at him. Him making a disgusted face then realising what had happened.

Not bothering to reply he walked back to the table, getting in his chair he looked like he had just survived an avalanche.

"Babe you need to believe me-" Y/n smirked, his entire body reacting he was so confused. Her giving his hand a squeeze she spoke.

"Guess I need to keep you on a shorter leash Mr. Lenney."

His brain short circuited.

Everything crashing down upon him, the fact a girl was flirting with him, how jealous you got, and his favourite part, you being possessive over him.

The way you kept your hands on him the entire night was a clear signal and he was living for it. He was practically glowing.

You couldn’t get rid of Wills smile even if you tried. He was on cloud nine. George and Arthur not understanding not caring enough to comment on it.

Will slept like a baby that night, the little voice in his head that said someone would try something with you was still there, but a much louder voice shouted over it that his smoking hot girlfriend loved him just as much.

And at the end of the day, she was just as much as a hater than he was.

[octaneink]

Smooth

Will Lenney x Female!Reader

Summary: Will and the reader enjoy their vacation time while Will sends death glances to flirty divers. (He trusts you. He just doesn’t trust them.) Warnings: None! Notes: Part two of Super trouper, based on this ask! Sorry this took so long! Work's been busy, and I wasn't sure if this made sense or was cute.

Salt-stiffened linen flaps against a terracotta wall, stirred by a breeze that smells of iodine and dried thyme. The Tyrrhenian Sea sprawls beyond the balcony, sun still low enough to cast long shadows across the glinting water. A lizard skitters over the railing, pauses, flicks its tongue at the soft clatter of wheels on cobblestones below.

Clack-clack-clack.

The sound grates, rhythmic, familiar. Will’s suitcase rolls behind him, obedient as a hound, while yours lists sideways, its left wheel sheared clean off by Heathrow’s baggage handlers. You’d watched him at the carousel earlier—back rigid, eyes tracking the conveyor belt like a hawk—as he hefted his own suitcase first, then plucked yours from the belt with a grunt, fingers snagging the handle seconds before it lurched past. The broken wheel clattered out moments later, rolling three feeble rotations before collapsing. Will had gone very still, your luggage dangling from his grip. 

He put down the luggage and kelt down to inspect the luggage.

A quiet slump of his shoulders, fingers tracing the cracked plastic. “They’ve butchered it,” he’d murmured, more to himself than you. An attendant had flitted over, already rehearsing the ‘not liable for cosmetic damage’ spiel, but Will cut her off with a weary sigh. “It’s not cosmetic. The wheel’s structural. Look.”

From his crouched position, he tilted the suitcase to show the mangled axle, then pulled up a pre-departure photo on his phone—your luggage pristine on the bedroom floor, wheels intact. “We’ve got a two-week trip. How’s this meant to hold up?” His voice stayed calm, but his thumb tapped the screen edge, restless. “I’d like to file a report. Properly.”

You’d hovered, torn between embarrassment and a flicker of guilt as he filled out the form in meticulous block letters, the attendant’s resolve wilting under his quiet persistence. “Like I said sir, the best we can do is a partial refund,” she’d conceded finally, avoiding his gaze. “And we can try this?” She produced a roll of duct tape, neon green and already peeling at the edge.

Will stared at it.

Blinked.

“That’s not—”

But she was already crouching, wrapping the tape around the fractured wheel hub in haphazard loops, her name tag jangling with the effort. The tape buckled instantly, adhesive gumming the broken plastic into a lopsided clump. Will’s jaw flexed, but he said nothing, watching as the wheel tilted sideways.

“There!” She stood, dusting her hands with the flourish of a magician completing a trick. “Good as new, yes?”

You bit your tongue, staring at the duct-tape monstrosity. “It’s creative,” you offered, voice thin.

Will’s smile was a rictus grin, knuckles whitening on the suitcase handle. “A masterpiece. Tate Modern should put it behind glass.”

The attendant beamed at you, mistaking politeness for praise. “The refund will process in five business days,” she chirped, tapping her tablet. “We appreciate your patience as a valued customer.”

“Thanks,” you said, too quickly, already tugging Will’s sleeve. “Let’s just—”

“A flamethrower could have done a better job,” Will muttered under his breath, low enough for only you to hear.

You stepped in front of him, blocking his glare. “Thank you.”

She nodded, oblivious, already turning to the next passenger. “Prego! Please enjoy our wonderful country!”

The duct tape emitted a gummy whine as Will dragged the suitcase away, the wheel lurching like a spavined horse. You fell into step beside him, cheeks hot. “That was subtle.”

“Subtlety’s overrated.” he grumbled, tight-lipped, and wheeled the crippled bag away and his own without another word. 

Fingers worried the frayed cuff of your hoodie, cheeks burning. “Sorry,” you mumbled, “This is. it’s my mess.”

Will halted mid-stride. When you dared glance up, his stern mask had slipped—just a boy with flushed ears and a too-stiff spine. “Your mess? You silly goose.” His thumb brushed your wrist, calloused and warm. “Love, the only crime here is that abomination they call a baggage system.” A beat. “And your taste in luggage. Christ, it’s neon pink.”

“It’s coral.”

“Same difference.”

Now the suitcase lurches sideways, its duct-taped wheel catching on a cobblestone seam. You curse, wrestling it back into line, but it drifts again. Will halts ahead, shoulders tensing as the screech of plastic-on-stone grates through the heat.

Without a word, he turns, swaps your mangled luggage for his own, and resumes walking. The good wheels glide smoothly over the path, his stride unbroken. When you arch a brow, he shrugs, adjusting his grip on the broken handle. “You’re terrible at steering.”

The hotel courtyard swallows you whole—whitewashed walls, lemon trees sagging with fruit, a plunge pool glowing turquoise in the shade. Will holds the gate open, fingertips brushing the small of your back as you pass. His touch lingers, warm even through the hoodie.

“Honeysuckle,” he mutters, inhaling. “And chlorine. They over-sanitised the pool.”

You bite back a laugh. “How can you tell that?” 

Will narrows his eyes, a mock-offended glance cast sideways as he lets the gate swing shut behind you. “Because my nose works,” he replies flatly, but the corner of his mouth twitches.

You hum thoughtfully, stepping aside as a bellboy zips past with a rickety luggage cart. “No, I’m serious. Do you have, like, a secret certification for pool chemicals?” You pantomime swirling a glass, sniffing dramatically. “Mm. Chlorine. With notes of crushed penny tile.”

That gets a sound out of him, not quite a laugh, but close. A low huff through his nose, fond and exasperated. “You’re impossible.”

You flash a grin over your shoulder. “You knew that when you booked, non-refundable.”

Will only shakes his head, but there’s a softness there now, something settling in the lines around his eyes. He reaches for your bag again without comment, knuckles brushing yours as you walk through the arched entryway into the cool hush of the hotel lobby.

The clerk at the front desk greets you with a too-bright smile, but Will handles the check-in, passport ready, reservation number memorised, a pen already uncapped before she slides the form across the counter. She’d barely had time to finish her practiced welcome before Will is sliding the paperwork back across the counter, already signed. 

She flips through the documents with a nod of approval, tapping something into her screen with the precision of a seasoned concierge. “You’re in room 304,” she says warm. “Top floor, corner unit. Sea view and balcony, as requested.”

Will gives a small, satisfied nod. Of course, he requested it.

She slides two sleek, sand-colored key cards toward you. “Breakfast is served from seven to ten each morning in the veranda lounge—just past the lemon grove. You also have two complimentary spa treatments to use during your stay, and access to our private beach club, a short walk down the cliff path. You’ll find towels and umbrellas already set up by the lifeguard.”

You glance at Will. “Did you book the massages already?”

He raises a brow. “I figured I’d let you pick the day. Thoughtful, right?”

You stifle a grin, pocketing your key. “Look at you. Relaxed and democratic.”

Giulia smiles politely, clearly used to couples like you, mild bickering worn soft with familiarity. “If you’d like to schedule anything—dinners, boat tours, vineyard visits—just let me know. Or we can arrange it through the room phone.”

Will nod again, already tucking the map she offers into his folder of printouts. “Thank you,” he says, that clipped politeness that almost sounds like a compliment. “We’ll get settled.”

She beams. “Buona vacanza.”

You follow Will across the terracotta tiles and into the lift, the old metal grate clanking shut behind you. It groans to life, the glass back offering a slow, rising glimpse of the courtyard below. The scent of citrus and salt intensifies the higher you go, riding the shaft of warm air that sneaks through the cracks.

On the third floor, the hallway is hushed and cool, with thick stone walls and arching ceilings that echo faintly underfoot. Will leads the way, key card already in hand, stopping in front of a carved wooden door with a brass number plate.

The room greets you with a rush of light and quiet. Vaulted ceilings curve overhead, white and seamless like the inside of a shell. Muslin curtains framing the tall French doors, stirred by a breeze that smells of rosemary, sand, and sun-warmed salt. The tiled floor is cool underfoot, handmade and uneven, the colour of dried clay. Two chairs, wicker-framed and sun-bleached, are set beside a low table bearing a ceramic bowl of fresh figs. A ceiling fan spins lazily above the bed, which is wide and dressed in crisp white linen.

But it’s the view that stops you. You step out onto the balcony, elbows resting on the warm stone balustrade. Below, the Tyrrhenian Sea stretches vast and glittering, fractured into sapphire and teal by the light. A rocky cove curves away to the right, ringed with pale sand and lapped by small waves. Farther down the hill, narrow switchback roads wind through bursts of oleander and cypress trees, their shadows sharp against the earth.

Inside, you hear the faint click of zips, the rustle of folded cotton. When you turn, Will is methodically unpacking your bags with the same care he applies to boarding passes and security bins. He’s already tucked your shoes under the bench by the door, rolled your shirts into neat cylinders, and zipped your toiletries into the bathroom caddy without a word.

He crosses the room to the wardrobe, sliding open a painted door to reveal a built-in safe. Without prompting, he gathers your passports, wallet, spare cash, and the extra travel card—each one stacked precisely in his palm—and locks them away. He glances back at you, not for approval, but in quiet confirmation. Of course, he’d remember. You didn’t even ask.

Then, from the depths of his own case, a toothbrush, a razor placed beside a contact lens case, a bottle of hand sanitiser fitted snugly against his cologne. He smooths a wrinkle from the bedspread with the side of his hand, then pauses—almost sheepishly—and pulls out a battered box of Yorkshire Gold.

He sets it on the night stand beside a single Toblerone. “For emergencies,” he mutters, not quite meeting your eye.

You smile, fingers brushing the box. “You packed the good stuff.”

“I always do.” He says it too casually, but his ears flush faintly pink.

You don’t hover. He’s in his rhythm now, methodical and focused, and you know better than to disrupt the quiet ritual of his unpacking. Instead, you drift to the balcony, the muslin curtain brushing against your legs as you slip outside.

The sun is higher now, gilding the sea in bright ribbons that shimmer as far as you can see. You rest your forearms on the warm stone balustrade, your shirt tugs up your back in the breeze. Below, the cove curves gently into the shoreline, its sand pale and untouched, waves folding in soft and deliberate.

You let your thoughts slow. The only sound is the hush of the surf and the occasional chirp of birds darting through the trees.

Then, quiet footsteps behind you, and the subtle shift of weight as Will steps in close. His arms wrap around your waist without a word, slow and certain, palms splayed over your stomach. He leans into you, resting some of his weight against your back like he needs the contact just as much as you do.

You feel his breath first, warm against your skin, and then the press of his mouth at the crook of your neck, a kiss. Only then does he let his chin settle on your shoulder, his stubble brushing lightly against your collarbone.

“Low tide at six,” he murmurs, voice low near your ear. He nods toward the cove below. “We could look for sea glass.”

A pause. Then, softer, “If you want.”

You smile, the words sinking in—if you want. Coming from Will, it feels like a small surrender. He doesn’t do unstructured. He plans everything down to the minute, has probably had this whole trip mapped out since before your passports were renewed. And still, he offered.

Your fingers slide over his at your waist, giving a small squeeze. “Hmm,” you murmur, leaning back into him. “Yeah, I want to. But we can do it later. I know you’ve got every second of this trip scheduled, down to our bathroom breaks.”

Will snorts, lips brushing your shoulder. “Not every second,” he grumbles, mock-offended. “It’s a perfectly reasonable balance of cultural immersion and rest.”

You laugh. “So, overbooked with a nap squeezed in.”

He hums noncommittally. “Wednesday morning,” he says. “The museum doesn’t open till ten, and the tide’s low around seven. We’ll go then. Beat the sun.”

You glance over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “You already worked it in?”

He tries to play it off with a shrug, but the corners of his mouth betray him. “I might’ve pencilled in a sea glass window. Just in case you said yes.”

You grin. “God, you’re such a nerd.”

He presses another kiss just below your ear. “And yet, here you are.” Giving you one last kiss, he walked into the room, rummaged around and called your name. Turning around, he hands you a bottle of sunscreen without a word.

You look at the label. It’s your brand, the kind with the matte finish that doesn’t make you feel like a buttered croissant. You nod in approval and utter a thank you and then squeeze some into your palm.

“I’m not letting you get sunburnt on day one,” he mutters, watching you apply it like you might cut corners. “And don’t even think about wearing that black top.”

“It’s linen,” you protest.

“It’s black linen. You’ll bake like a pastry. Wear the one with the buttons. The white one.”

You squint at him. “Did you plan my clothes too?”

Will doesn’t answer, but when you glance over, the white top is already laid out, neatly smoothed and folded. You sigh, smile despite yourself, and duck into the bathroom to change. When you come out, dressed and lotioned to his standards, he gives you a quick once-over and nods. “Perfect. Hat’s in your tote. Water bottle’s full. Let’s go.”

Nuraghe stones bake under a merciless sun, their ancient honeycombs casting knife-edge shadows across the dry grass. The heat clings to everything rocks, sandals, the nape of your neck, rising in ripples from the gravel path. Will’s voice hums beside you, reading the faded information plaque out loud.

“Bronze Age. Dry-stone masonry. Strategic sight lines for tribal warfare.” He squints at the last line, nose wrinkling. “Bit reductive, isn’t it? Reducing three millennia of culture to ‘they were good at spotting enemies’.”

You drift away from his voice, lured by the woeful maaah of a goat picking its way down the scrub-choked slope. It’s a shaggy, sun-bleached thing, all knobby knees nibbling at a thorn bush without a thought behind its eyes. You raise your camera, framing its ragged silhouette against the impossible blue of the sea. The shutter clicks—

“Oi.”

Gravel crunches in front of you. Will’s hand closes around your elbow, thumb skating over the sensitive skin of your inner arm. “Stay close,” he murmurs, pulling you back from the crumbling edge. His palm is warm and slightly tacky with sunscreen. “The path’s unstable.”

You glance at the fissured stones, then up at him. “What, no helmet? Safety harness?”

“No helmet.” His mouth twitches, fighting a smile. “But only because you’d refuse to wear it.” He tugs you toward shade. “And before you gloat—I do have a first-aid kit. And—”

“—industrial-strength bandages?” You interrupt, bumping his shoulder.

“Obviously.” He pulls out the sunscreen. “Arms. Now.”

You groan. “Will, I just—”

“You’re meant to re-apply the sunscreen every two hours. Plus, I’m pretty sure that the lotion sweats off on the hike up.” He squirts cool lotion onto his palm.

His touch is methodical. Up your forearm, over your shoulder, down the exposed strip of your spine. You shiver.

“See?” he murmurs, breath warm at your ear. “Quick and easy.”

“Hmm. Debatable.” You lean into his hands.

He huffs, thumb brushing your shoulder blade. “You’re welcome.” His gaze flicks past you to the goat, now perched on a boulder. “Your accomplice is eyeing the ‘unstable path’ sign.”

“He’ll be fine. Braver than you with your bandages.”

“He’s got four legs and a death wish.” Will’s sunscreen-slick hand slides down to lace with yours. “Like someone else I know.”

You squeeze. “Admit it. You’re jealous he’s off the itinerary.”

“Devastated.” He kisses your temple, a quick peck. “Now move. Lemon granita in about an hour. And he’s” a nod at the goat, now nibbling a discarded map, “not on the guest list.”

Two days later, after another morning of ruins, espresso, and Will arguing with the GPS, you both return to the hotel sun-drenched and dust-covered. The lemon trees in the courtyard sag heavier than before, their scent headier in the late afternoon warmth. A breeze stirs the muslin curtains as you enter the room, and Will immediately begins his ritual—shoes lined up, water bottles refilled, receipts sorted.

You peel off your sandals and stretch. “I vote for collapsing.”

Will arches a brow. “You’ll thank me later when we don’t have to guess which bag has what.”

You toss him a grin and wander toward the bathroom. “Fine. But collapsing is still on the agenda.”

By the time you’ve showered, the light outside has turned syrupy gold. The air is thick with the scent of salt and thyme drifting up from the coast. Will’s already changed linen shirt, open over his swim trunks, wristwatch still on, because, of course it is.

“We going somewhere?” you ask, towel-drying your hair.

“Beach. Just below the hotel.” He nods toward the balcony. “It’ll be quiet. Low tide.”

You pause, glancing past the fluttering curtain to the glittering curve of pale sand below. “Was this in the itinerary?”

He shrugs, casual. “Call it unscheduled decompression.”

You dress in your favourite old swimsuit—the black triangle one with fraying ties that’s probably more nostalgia than structurally safe. When you step out, Will’s eyes catch on you, then dart quickly away.

“I thought you packed the white one,” he says without looking.

“I did.” You tug on one of his loose linen shirt. “But this one’s got personality.”

“Mmm. So does a cracked buoy.” But there’s no heat in it. Just the barest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Minutes later, you’re descending the narrow, pine-lined path from the back of the hotel, beach bag slung between you. The sea glows a soft, blinding gold, and the beach is nearly empty—just a couple reading under an umbrella and a dog nosing at driftwood.

Will sets up camp, umbrella at a wind-smart angle, towels laid edge-to-edge with no sand trapped beneath, Kindle powered on to a biography you’ve already teased him about. He settles beneath the tree, long limbs stretching out in the shade.

You drop your bag and tug the shirt over your head. His eyes flick up—pause—then very clearly drop lower, lingering just a beat too long on your chest. You catch the flicker of heat before he yanks his gaze away, suddenly deeply absorbed in the paper bag of grapes you picked up together at the morning market. Crunchy, plump, and green. Your favourite.

“Twice now,” you tease, stepping out of your sandals. “You stared in the hotel room, too.”

Will doesn’t look up. “I did not stare.”

“You did,” you hum, sliding the neoprene shoes onto your feet. “And I didn’t mind then, either.”

"I was being subtle." he huffs, cheeks flushing pink as he pops a grape into his mouth. 

You lean down, brush a kiss to his cheek—then, impulsively, to his lips. "You’re cute when you lie."

His hand catches your wrist as you start to pull back, fingers tightening gently, anchoring you in place. For a beat, neither of you moves—the world narrowing to the press of his palm against your thigh, the salt-sting of breeze on your cheeks. Then he shifts, still seated in the sand, and his free hand slides up to cradle the curve of your hip.

The kiss starts slow. 

A deliberate tilt of his chin, the soft drag of his lower lip against yours—then deepens with a quiet urgency. His mouth coaxes yours open, not with demand, but with a patient, searching heat that melts your spine. Salt and the faint sweetness of grapes linger on his tongue. Your balance wavers, one hand flying to his shoulder, fingers digging into the sun-warmed cotton of his shirt. He smiles against your mouth, a low amused hum vibrating in his throat as he feels you sway.

This is the surrender you teased him about in the past. The way his thumb strokes the hollow behind your knee, the hitch in his breath when you bite his lip. The sea wind whips around you, tangling your hair with his, but beneath it all is the steady thrum of his pulse where your palm rests against his neck. He kisses like he plans—thoroughly, with deadly focus—mapping the seam of your lips, the ridge of your teeth, and the soft gasp you can’t swallow.

When he finally pulls back, it’s only far enough to rest his forehead against yours. His eyelashes brush your skin as he blinks, thumb drifts across your pulse point once, then falls away.

"Sunscreen first," he says, voice lower now, rougher. He tosses you the tube without looking. "Shoulders. Neck. Don’t skip the back of your knees."

You raise an eyebrow. “Very romantic.”

“I contain multitudes,” he says, smiling, but it’s softer now. Less of a tease, the kiss still clinging between you.

You roll your eyes, but the warmth in your chest lingers as you apply the sunscreen quickly, then grab your mask and flippers. “Alright, I’m going in.”

“You’ve got about forty-five minutes,” he calls after you, plucking a grape from the bunch. “Before I start filing a missing person’s report with the coast guard.”

“I’ll try to survive,” you say, grabbing your snorkel gear and heading to the waterline.

You don’t look back. The warm grit gives way to damp, packed sand as you reach the water’s edge. Squatting, you yank the neoprene flippers over your heels—awkward, stiff, sealing your feet like a second skin. Next, the goggles: you spit into the lenses, rub the film clear with your thumb (an old diver’s trick your dad taught you), then strap the elastic band over your hair. The snorkel clicks into the mask’s bracket, its mouthpiece faintly tasting of silicone.

“Try not to drown!” Will calls, louder now over the surf’s hiss.

You turn just enough to see him—a silhouette against the towel, knees drawn up, watching. You raise a middle finger, grinning when he barks a laugh.

Beneath the surface, the world softens and blurs into a dreamlike palette of blues and greens. Sunlight filters through the water in flickering shafts, illuminating swaying forests of seagrass. Tiny bubbles rise in lazy trails as you glide over craggy rocks and scattered shells.

Colourful fish dart between the waving fronds — vivid damselfish shimmering like liquid sapphire, silver mullets flickering by in schools, and a curious wrasse that pauses to inspect you before darting away. 

As you explore, your eyes catch delicate shapes resting on the sand—beautiful shells, smooth and unoccupied, their spiral curves and pearly interiors gleaming in the filtered light. Carefully, you scoop a few up, mindful they hold no creatures. You pause over one in particular—ridged pink, iridescent inside, like something out of a dream. With no pouch on hand, you tuck it into the cup of your bikini top, nestled securely against your skin. A little treasure to bring back.

Above, the surface ripples gently, catching the golden afternoon sun. The distant sound of gulls and waves mingles with your own steady breathing, a private escape in the beautiful waters.

Then—a flicker in your peripheral vision. Someone is beside you.

You turn, kicking gently, and a hand waves into your line of sight, fingers splayed in the water. You surface slowly, spitting the mouthpiece free as you push the goggles to your forehead, blinking salt from your lashes that drip down from the goggles.

“Scusa,” a voice calls, not too loud.

A man treads water a few feet away—sun-browned, salt curls plastered to his forehead, grin quick and bright. He nods toward your foot, where your flipper strap has come loose, the heel slipping with each kick.

“Permesso?” he asks, gesturing.

You nod, a little surprised, and float still while he dips briefly beneath the surface. His fingers brush your calf as he secures the buckle, tightening it with practiced ease. The touch is light but assured, the briefest pause before he lets go.

He surfaces again, shaking water from his face. “Va meglio adesso,” he says, then studies you a second longer before switching languages. “You speak English?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Thanks.”

“Thought so,” he replies easily. “Strap was slipping. Dangerous. You’d lose a fin.” His eyes linger just a beat longer, his smile edging into something playful. “Would be a shame to lose you to the current. Beautiful girls make very poor flotation devices.”

You open your mouth to respond—something dry, maybe—but then his gaze lifts over your shoulder. His smile flickers. “Ah.”

You turn slightly, following his line of sight.

Will. Standing ankle-deep at the shoreline, towel slung over one shoulder, hand shading his eyes as he watches. He’s too far to hear anything, but the set of his jaw is familiar. Calm. Not angry—just locked in.

The man clears his throat, his smile easing into something friendlier, more platonic. “Boyfriend?” he asks, with a quick nod toward the beach.

You nod.

“Right,” he says, backing up a stroke. “Lucky guy.” His grin softens. “Be careful, okay? The current tugs harder the farther out you go.”

“Got it. Thanks again.”

He salutes you lazily, then kicks off into the open water without another word.

You float a moment longer, then lift your hand above the surface and flash Will a thumbs-up.

He nods once, slow and satisfied, then turns and walks back toward the pine-shaded patch where your towels wait.

You sink below again, letting the quiet take you. The sea folds around you like silk. You drift over pale sand and swaying grass, the occasional dart of a fish slipping past your fingers. Your eyes scan the seabed, finally catching the curved gleam of something nestled between stones.

A flat, fan-shaped scallop shell, sun-bleached on one side and warm orange on the other, like it’s been kissed by fire. You turn it over in your palm, admiring the delicate ridges and faint lines like fingerprint whorls. It’s beautiful, untouched.

Carefully, you lift it to your chest with a quick glance around, the new shell slips easily into the other cup, the curve of it cool against your skin. No pouch, no problem. You adjust the top slightly and smile to yourself. Will’s going to roll his eyes so hard when you pull these out later.

You turn toward the shore, legs already moving in an easy, practised kick. The water resists gently, like it doesn’t want to let you go. Pale sand slopes upward beneath you, sunlight warping across the seabed in soft golden ripples.

As the water shallows, you slow your strokes and rise to the surface. With both hands, you pull the goggles up from your eyes, pushing them onto your forehead, and then work the snorkel free from your mouth. The quiet hush of the underwater world slips away, replaced by the rhythmic rush of waves and the distant caw of gulls overhead. You hold the gear loosely in one hand, letting seawater drip from your fingertips.

With a small hop, you plant your feet on the sandy bottom. Waves lap gently at your thighs, then knees. You bend to unstrap your flippers one by one, lifting your feet carefully before stepping forward, flippers in hand, making your way to the shore.

Will’s already waiting. He stands just at the water’s edge, towel in hand, bare feet half-buried in warm sand. His curls are messier now, salt-stiff and wind-tossed, and he squints slightly in the sun as he watches you approach.

“Towel?” he offers, already unfolding it.

“Perfect,” you say, letting him drape it over your shoulders. It’s sun-warmed and smells faintly of his sunscreen.

As you adjust the towel around you, a small shiver runs through you. The breeze hits your damp skin, raising goosebumps across your arms.

Will notices. “Cold?” he asks, already reaching for the snorkel gear in your hands.

You nod, and he gently takes the flippers, goggles, and snorkel from you. “I’ll carry these. You focus on not freezing. I can always provide emergency cuddles on the beach.”

You huff a laugh, tugging the towel tighter. “That might actually be necessary.”

He tugs the corners snug again, then leans back a little to study you. “How was it?”

You smile, heart still thudding softly in your chest. “Peaceful. Gorgeous. There’s this whole underwater meadow out there. Grass swaying like it’s dancing.”

He arches a brow. “Any wild sea creatures I need to go interrogate?”

“Just one.” You nudge him lightly with your shoulder. “Fixed my flipper and tried flirting while you were giving your best death glare from the shore.”

His mouth twitches. “Wasn’t glaring.”

“Hmm. You scared him off just fine.”

“Good.” He bends to kiss your temple, a hand resting low on your back. “Don’t want to share you with charmers and rogue currents.”

You glance down at your chest and pat it lightly. “Well, I did find a few treasures.”

Will’s brows lift. “Oh?”

You smirk. “You’ll see later. Not beach-appropriate to reveal them now.”

He groans, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “You are a menace.”

“A charming one,” you say, bumping him again as you both begin the short walk back toward your spot beneath the pines, his arm steady around you, towel and gear in tow.

[octaneink]

I HAVE MISSED YOU SO MUCH 🥹🥹🥹

I’m desperate for something angsty like Fleetwood Mac vjbes

Ask and you shall receive!

This one is for my discord girlies 🫶

Silver Springs | WillNE

Y/N hadn’t planned on being part of Will’s production team. In fact, she hadn’t planned on being anyone’s content creating employee.

She’d had her own career path. She worked a job in business, but created art in her spare time. As a good friend of Freezy’s, she’d been around a few different sets and had given her input (which largely went unnoticed by most people except Freezy and Lux until Will came along).

It started with a text. Y/N had followed Will’s content for a while. She had strayed away from consuming any content from anyone she knew personally, but after a few good impressions, she often found herself trawling both of Will’s channels (as well as Quadrant’s) in search of entertainment. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but was something refreshing about Will. He was real under all the jokes and pranks. He was relatable, despite being immersed in the now rather unreachable world of content creating.

Y/N: Just saw your latest video. The production value with this one was increddddible.

Will: I thought you might like it! I took your advice about the lighting and updated the camera settings

Y/N: I can tell - such a small change but it translates so well!

Will: I might have to bring you on board for the next shoot

Will: If you’re up for it?

Y/N: Always

And from there, it was like they fell into an effortless rhythm. Y/N was drawn to his creative chaos, and he was amazed by her ability to rein in his wild ideas and turn them into something coherent and, dare he say it, aesthetically pleasing. She was immediately made to feel like she was part of the team, getting along incredibly well with his current production crew. She was a fresh pair of eyes.

Over time, their relationship began to change. It started out as completely professional, the two of them able to separate their work lives with their budding friendship. When he offered to take her on as a full time employee, things began to shift. There was no longer a buffer. No other job for her to go to. Will would send Y/N bullet point ideas for videos and she’d respond with an itinerary, potential locations, places to source materials from. She would take his ideas straight off the page and design the hell out of it. Everything she touched became magic. Including Will. Their mutual friends didn’t miss the way his eyes lit up when she walked into a room, or the cheeky grin that occupied his features when she’d text back. Somewhere between the very beginning of their friendship and today, they’d fallen in a habit of long working hours followed by after work festivities. A drink here, a “come over and I’ll cook” there.

They had found themselves on her couch on a Friday evening, two bottles of red deep and several plates of sushi full. Fleetwood Mac’s “Silver Spring” playing on vinyl.

“Imagine being someone’s silver spring.” Y/N had stated, half lidded gaze on the abandoned Netflix show paused on the screen.

Will turned to face her. “How do you mean?”.

“Like loving someone so much that it haunts them.” She said offhandedly.

“I think you’d be more of a gold dust woman. I think you’re too kind to haunt someone forever. Maybe just for a little while.” He laughed.

A heavy silence fell over the room.

“You know that Lux asked me what’s going on between us.” She met his eyes.

He swallowed hard. “And what did you tell him?”.

“That I was waiting for you to figure it out. You have a drawer in my apartment, Will. I can’t say the same for Orla or Ieuan.” She looked straight through him.

Y/N had always been intimidating in a I-know-myself-and-I’m-unfuckwithable kind of way, but she made Will feel like he’d been stripped naked and vulnerable. “What if I did have a drawer at Orla’s?” he asked cautiously.

“Then you wouldn’t have one here.” She spoke assertively.

Wordlessly, he sank to his knees in front of her seat on the couch. Will, reluctant to meet her gaze, ran his hands along the tops of her thighs. Y/N gently took his face between her hands, gingerly tracing along the right side of his jaw. “Have you figured it out yet?”.

He didn’t answer, instead standing up and pulling her up with him, capturing her lips in an absolutely burning, searing kiss. Little words were exchanged as he backed her into the wall, tugging on the hem of her shirt.

——

A few months had passed. “Content planning meetings” rolled into evenings and ultimately all ended the same: open mouthed kisses between the sheets, the same vinyl playing, phones on do not disturb. On nights where the boys would occupy Will’s time or weekends where Y/N would go day drinking with her girlfriends, their reluctant goodbyes would leave behind evidence in the form of fogged windows and flushed cheeks.

But no one knew. Not Freezy, who cracked jokes constantly and would have a field day. Not Lux, who would see right through them if they slipped even once. Not even Stephen, who missed nothing and said even less.

They were careful. Until they weren’t. In a Wednesday night trip to the pub, they were stood at the jukebox. Y/N’s hand on the back of his neck. Her breath at his ear. Her voice sent vibrations running through his chest.

“Alright, close your eyes. I might surprise you here.” Y/N rest her head on his shoulder, Will covering her eyes with his hand.

A few moments later, Fleetwood Mac’s “Everywhere” reverberated through the speaker. He felt her smile beneath his hand, removing it to see her completely. He grabbed her hand, pulling her into a makeshift waltz position and dancing her around the open floor of the pub.

Becky quirked an eyebrow, looking toward Lux. “I wish they’d hurry up and shag already.”

Lux took a sip of his drink. “Something tells me they already have.”

——

What was once fun and exciting began to feel like the situationship from hell. Working with your boss, sleeping with him and driving separate cars into work in the hopes no one would notice. Will would do his washing at Y/N’s and she would fold his towels. He’d watch her in the bathroom mirror and hand her the moisturiser they shared as he brushed his teeth. He knew where her cutlery lived, where to find her favourite mug and how to locate the spare lightbulbs. Even still, he had no clue how to let her in. She’d ask him the dreaded “what are we” question and he’d roll over, mumbling an “I’m tired” before subsequently burying his head in his pillow on his side of the bed in her apartment.

So, she created distance. Left early for ‘appointments’, spent more time with Becky and Sabina, left the contents of his drawer on his desk.

They were in the kitchenette of the office one Friday, both reaching for the same mug - hers, but Will picked it up first. Their fingers brushed. Nothing obvious. But Nicki’s gaze flicked up to his, tension boiling between them.

“That’s mine,” she said softly. “I’m making coffee.”

“Sorry. You can have it,” he replied, just as low.

But she didn’t take the mug. Instead, she stepped closer, hitting his chest. Heat radiated off of her. He swallowed.

“Don’t do that,” she said.

“Do what?”

“Make this just...this.” She gestured to the mug he held and then between the two of them. “You can’t fuck me and match my fucking socks and then pretend I’m nothing to you.”

He stepped back.

Y/N didn’t.

“You can’t pretend I’m some dirty mistress forever, Will. Eventually, you’ll have to feel something.” She stared him down, her gaze unwavering.

“I do feel something.” He felt like she could see straight through him.

“Then say it. Act like it. Do something other than refuse to let me in.”

But he didn’t. He never did. The thought of letting her in terrified the shit out of him. Letting their relationship develop beyond the gentle touches, the same Fleetwood Mac record and the lipstick stains left on the corner of his mouth felt too vulnerable.

Finally, she stepped back.

“You know,” she said, “I could really love you. You won’t let me.”

On Monday, she quit hovering. She wouldn’t reply to his messages outside of their regular working hours. She let men in bars buy her drinks. She developed the hell out of his video concepts and she took the credit she deserved, even consulting on a few videos for Freezy. To their friends, she was as loveable as ever. She indulged in gossip with the girls, let Arthur talk her ear off about his latest hyperfixation and she workshopped stand up routines with Stephen.

But with Will, she had immediately put boundaries back into place. She’d drawn a line in the sand.

At a table occupied by all of their friends, she stood up and started gathering her belongings. Will caught her eye. “Y/N.” He spoke loud enough for the majority of the table to hear.

George, Lux, Freezy and Chris’s eyes snapped forward.

“What, Will?” She spoke, short and impatient.

He went to speak, but words failed him. He opened his mouth before hesitating and closing it again. “Nevermind.”

And with that, she turned and left.

Later that night, he sat in his own apartment with the lights dimmed low and YouTube music playing. Her favourite Fleetwood Mac album playing.

"I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me..."

She was his silver spring.

She loved him so much it haunted him.

….

A/N: Here we go friends!

Let me know your thoughts 🩵 and pls comment if you’d like to be put onto a tag list!

Taglist: @octaneink @whore4fanfics @mrswillne

[octaneink]

Appetite | Arthur Hill

Long distance was harder than Y/N expected.

After moving abroad to Australia for a job opportunity, time zones became her biggest nemesis and the travel time between the UK and Australia made the days all blend together. Arthur, however, remained exactly where he was. Y/N could guess where he was at any given time. He was available to talk at the same time each night. He was dependable. Reliable. A constant.

“I’m really struggling, Arthur.” Y/N spoke down the phone.

“I know, darling. You’re in a new place, sleeping in a new bed, having to make new friends. I’d expect you to feel a bit out of sorts.” Arthur spoke gently, wincing as he heard a sharp inhale and a sniff on the other end of the line.

George sat across from him, each of them commandeering the table in Chris’s office to work. “Is that Y/N?” He mouthed.

“I just feel lonely. I’m having dinner and going to bed while you’re getting up to go to work”, she spoke gently.

Arthur nodded. He closed his eyes, his hand coming up to cover them gently. “We’ve just got to get 8 weeks and I’ll be there.” There was a groan on the other end. “How about we organise a time to have a virtual dinner date over the weekend? Dinner your time, I mean”.

He was met with a soft sniffle. “Okay. That sounds nice”. She spoke softly. She sounded defeated. “I think I might go to bed. I have a long day tomorrow.”

“Okay, lovey. Text me when you’re awake.” He sighed.

“Will do. Have a nice day, I love you.”

“Love you too. Sweet dreams.”

The line clicked.

On the other side of the world, Y/N lay with her phone locked, staring up at the ceiling. Come on, Y/N. Change is tricky but you can do it. It’s just a little bit of long distance. She felt a little bit silly feeling so homesick, after being considered for an incredible opportunity.

George raised an eyebrow at Arthur. “That sounded like it went well”, he spoke sarcastically. “I assume she’s not travelling well”.

Arthur sighed, his chest heavy. “I think she’s having a really rough time settling in. It’s been a few months and her situation’s not gotten much better… she’s the youngest in the workplace, she’s struggled to make friends. I feel a bit useless not being able to help her”.

“Why don’t you just go visit? Surprise her”. To George, it made total sense. “I think Will’s flying over next week to film some things with Mikey and Ieuan. Give him a call and see if you can travel together - 24 hours is a long haul on your own”.

Arthur stood up suddenly, pushing his chair in. “You know what, I might see if he’s in the office. Not a bad idea”. He walked out of the room, tapping George’s shoulder as he went.

A short 45 minutes later, his flight was booked.

——

Their dinner date went ahead as scheduled.

Arthur sat in his room, the curtains drawn tight. Despite it nearly being lunchtime for him, he sat in the dark with a bowl of pasta and an array of candles to simulate a real dining experience. “You know babe, I even copied your recipe. Just put more chilli on mine. I haven’t had much of an appetite lately.” He laughed.

Y/N, in a similar setting, raised her bowl for him to see. “I usually neglect the chilli when I cook for you.”

“Are you saying I can’t handle the heat?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“You pretend you can!” They shared a laugh. “So, what are you up to this week?”.

“The Sidemen have asked me to do a shoot with them on Wednesday. It’s one of those 24 hour challenges.” Arthur pushed his pasta around the plate, trying to conceal the lie.

She grinned. “That sounds like so much fun! You’ll have to send me a link when they post the video”.

“You know I will. I just wanted to give you a heads up in case you don’t hear much from me.” He smiled sympathetically.

“That’s all good. I’m finishing up my project on Wednesday afternoon, so I have a feeling I’ll be exhausted. I’m just excited to hear about it.” She found his eyes through the screen, smiling sincerely.

“I can’t wait to tell you about it.”

——

Wednesday morning came, and Arthur found himself at the airport. In line with Will, they made their way onto the plane with coffee and handheld luggage in tow.

“It’s a shame we can’t be there to watch you surprise her.” Will spoke, stretching back in his seat.

“You’ll definitely have to come out for dinner with us, I know Y/N would love to see you.” Arthur softly jabbed his arm.

“I’d love that,” Will grinned. “You know… I’ve got a lot of time for the both of you.”

“Really?” Arthur turned to face him.

“Yeah. I don’t know if Y/N told you, but we had a conversation a few months ago at Stephen’s party. I told her I was feeling a bit lonely and now I find myself getting invited around to your place every so often. I really appreciate you guys.” Will spoke fondly, hiding from Arthur’s gaze.

“You know, she actually never mentioned that. She just said that we hadn’t seen much of you lately and she’d like to catch up. I didn’t think twice about it.” Arthur shrugged.

“You’ve got a gem.”

——

A whole 24 hours of travel later, Arthur exited the uber with a backpack and small suitcase in hand. He nervously made his way up the front steps, setting his belongings down. He stood in front of the door for a few moments before knocking.

“Were you expecting someone?” A distinct voice was heard on the other side of the door. That was his girl.

Y/N’s roommate could be heard replying with a “no? What if we’ve got a murderer behind the door?”.

Suddenly, the door swung open and there she was. Decked out in an oversized crewneck, comfy shorts and mismatched socks, she stood in front of him.

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “What the fuck.” Her hands covered her mouth as she stood in shock. “How did you get here?”.

“I swam. What do you think?” Arthur grinned.

Stepping forward, she engulfed him into a hug. “You cheeky bastard.”

They stood in the doorway for what felt like hours, gentle sobs escaping Y/N as Arthur gently stroked her back and placed gentle kisses to her temple.

Her roommate yelled from the hall, “Y/N, let the boy in! It’s gonna be chilly out there shortly.”

Y/N pulled back, allowing Arthur to stroke his thumbs across her cheeks and wipe away a few stray tears. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too. You should thank George, it was his idea.” Arthur spoke softly.

She grinned. “I’ll give him a big kiss next time I see him.”

Arthur’s jaw dropped in pretend shock. “You will do no such thing.”

Y/N laughed. By god, she was angelic. “Come in. I bet you’re hungry.”

“Yeah, I seem to have gotten my appetite back.” Arthur picked up his suitcase, walking through the front door.

He may have been on the other side of the world, but it was the closest he’d been to home in a long while.

A/N:

A quick one for my fave, @clarkeysbedchem 🫶

Side note - would anyone like to be added to a tag list?