octaneink

[octaneink]

Update: This is a part of the playlist I'm using to get into the groove for the fic

[octaneink]

Buckle up bitches (affectionate) I'm in a mood to write some hurt no comfort (its for Will btw, tho I think people can guess that after how much I posted for him)

Godspeed

[octaneink]

I LOVE THE FICCCC, FROM ANON WHO REQUESTED

AHHHHH IM SO HAPPY YOU LIKE IT

THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING IT 🩷🩷

[octaneink]

I have noticed you have a theme with the song titled for chapters… any chance you listen to Lizzy Mcalpine or Phoebe Bridgers? They would be perfect for something angsty

Also pls write for Harry!!

Girl…. I got you.

—

Pushing It Down and Praying | WillNE

Bit angsty. Mentions of reader in an unhappy relationship.

—-

It was just one of those weeks.

Work was shit. Coworkers snapping at each other as the end of financial year rolled around and chaos ensued. Stepping on eggshells around friends as they wrap themselves up in their children, husbands and incredible careers. Your relationship on the brink of ending.

Now here you were, sitting in the shared flat of Arthur Hill, Chris and George. Arthur had decided to throw a small party at their place to celebrate an entirely sold out tour. He’d somehow assembled a motley crew of friends last minute.

George, ever the host, had enlisted you as his guinea pig while he made his way through a “how to: cocktail” book. So far, you’d consumed several attempts at a cosmo and even more so at an espresso martini. George had been keeping a watchful eye after catching you trying to secretly pour a martini into the closest house plant. In doing so, he’d caught the longing glances exchanged between yourself and Will. For the majority of the night, he’d been stood on the opposite side of the room chatting with Simon and Josh.

“Not to sound like a prick Y/N, but where’s Alex?” George pressed. “You guys have been together for what feels like years and he barely makes an appearance. Do you just not invite him?”.

You spun your straw around the mojito George had just slid across the table. “I do invite him. He just prefers to stay at home and relax after work.”

Unbeknownst to you, Talia and Freya had slowly made their way across the room, sensing a sudden shift in the atmosphere between yourself and George.

George pursed his lips. “Do you love him?”.

A sudden warmth spread over your shoulder as Talia squeezed it reassuringly. “Give it a rest, George.. she’s come straight from work. Let her chill before you interrogate her.”

You looked up at Talia. “Thank you.”

“Why don’t we all go sit somewhere and have a gossip?” She suggested, gently pulling you off of the bar stool you had been occupying all night. Talia’s solution was the couch area - which was otherwise empty apart from Bach and Chris taking up residence in the recliners across from you. You sat on the end of the couch, Talia in the middle seat and Freya on the opposite end.

Freya hesitated to voice her thoughts, as though she were trying to tread lightly. “I worry about you, Y/N. I know how tough work is at the moment and I hate thinking that you’re going home feeling unloved.”

You took a breath before responding. “I’ve thought about leaving but it’s not like he’s doing anything to me. He doesn’t yell… or try to scare me. It’s like we just live separate lives comfortably. If I leave, I have to start all over again.”

Talia took your hand in her own. “Just because he keeps you safe doesn’t mean he keeps you happy. You can be comfortable and have someone you’re excited to share it with.”

The girls rationalised for the next 30 minutes, offering their support and solutions. We’ll be there with the moving truck. You don’t have to do it alone.

By this time, Bach and Chris had weighed in, concerned about their friend.

Excusing yourself to the ensuite bathroom in George’s room, Chris followed. As you knelt up against the vanity, he stood in the doorway. “Listen, Y/N. I don’t normally weigh in on your life. I can understand that you keep things under wraps because you don’t want it out there for the world to see. I get that.” He took a breath. “I just think that, when it’s just us, you deserve to have a partner you can brag about. Someone who loves you the way you deserve. There’s a whole group of men in there who’d happily take Alex’s place.”

You laughed in an attempt to dissolve the tension. “You’re full of shit, Chris.”

“Yeah? I’ll send both of the Arthur’s in here to change your mind.” A grin spread across his face, before pulling you into a tight embrace. One of those truly tear inducing hugs. An ‘I’ve got you’ hug. “I’m gonna give you a minute. Seems like you might need a break from all the emotions.”

“Thanks, Chris. Love ya.” You blew a kiss at him as he left the room, making a catching motion on the way out.

You’d been alone in the ensuite for all of 5 seconds when Will’s head poked around the corner.

“Hello, my friend.” He grinned cheekily, standing against the door.

“You look like you’re up to no good.” You had laughed, the grin painting his face looking a little too mischievous.

He pulled a bottle of red wine out from behind his back, presenting it to you. “Might be a silly idea, but why don’t we just sit in the bath, chat shit and drink this expensive wine I copped from Mr Calfreezy?”.

In response, you took your shoes off and jumped into the empty bath, extending a hand to Will.

Once you were safely in your respective ends of the bath, knees touching, he unscrewed the cap and extended the wine bottle to you. “You’ve had a tough week. You go first.”

Taking a sip (or a gulp for that matter), you passed the bottle back. “What’s happening in your world this week, Mr Lenney?”.

“Both of my editors are sick so I’ve gone back to the good old days of editing my own videos. Went on a shit date. Buuuutttt… I set a new PB for a half marathon. And now I’m hanging out with you, so it’s not all bad.” He winked, taking a sip too and passing the bottle back. “What’s happening with you?”.

“The usual. End of financial year causing chaos. Working too much. Going home to what feels like a loveless marriage… and we’re not even married.” You laughed, the weight of your friends’ words heavy on your shoulders.

The room grew quiet. “My intention was to come in here and try to take your mind off of it, but can I just say one thing?”.

You met his eyes. “Yeah. I value your opinion.”

“I’m not going to tell you to leave. If I do, it’s just going to push you away. I’ve done the whole starting over thing and it is fucking scary, but I’m much happier now that I’ve moved forward. So, I just want you to know that I care about you. And when things feel much less intimidating, you just call and I’ll answer.” Will leaned forward, laying a hand gently on her knee.

You hesitated. “This probably sounds like it makes no sense… but I feel guilty for not feeling guilty. Like my motivation for staying with Alex is because it’s familiar and I just don’t feel like uprooting my life right now. Not because I have this desire to work on our relationship and wanna work on it. It’s literally just convenient for me to stay in the same flat and not have to do the getting to know you phase all over again.”

Will laughed. “Gonna be honest. I know the whole getting to you know you part is the best bit, but I think I will start throwing tables on dates if people keep asking what my favourite colour is.”

The two of you shared a giggle, before you reached a sudden realisation. “I haven’t been with anyone except Alex in 3 years. I’m gonna be like a virgin again.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” Will took a swig in between thoughts. “At least you might get some decent break up sex when you leave.”

You sighed. “I doubt it. It’s pretty underwhelming as is. I think that’s what happens when you transition from partners to roommates.”

“You poor thing… well, do me a favour. Feel free to charm up Freezy so we can have more bath chats on his dime. The man knows his way around a bottle of red.” Will joked.

“I think he’d smell the ulterior motive from a mile away… Freezy and I have had many a night on the red.”

Will’s eyes lit up, holding in his laughter. “I still remember when he stacked it at the tube station and you bandaged him back up with the Peppa Pig plasters.”

Time seemed to pass too quickly. Throughout the night, George’s ensuite attracted a few visitors keen for a gossip - Harry and Lux shared a few sips of wine in exchange for not tattling on them to Freezy. Arthur Hill drunkenly told Y/N how incredibly gorgeous she is, to which she replied with “better write a song about me then darling”. Becky had planned on an Irish goodbye, but stopped in to kiss both of their foreheads before slipping out the front door.

They covered several different topics - flat earthers, Premier League, how to: YouTube Adsense, Will’s weird beef with Chappell Roan, the newest Netflix crime series, The 1975’s best tracks, ultimate routes for marathons. Their friendship had always been that way - easy, kind, forthcoming.

It was about 12am when George came into the bathroom, kicking the two of them out. Though the party was continuing on, the two decided their social battery had hit its limit for the night. Giggling and unable to walk in a straight line, they naturally decided to link arms and walk back to their respective flats.

They were stood in front of Y/N’s apartment complex, hugging goodbye, when Will stepped forward. His eyes flickered to her lips momentarily, before he stepped back and assessed the situation. “Oh fuck. Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’ve made it weird now.”

“No, you haven’t. I just need some time to figure out my shit first. It’s not fair to Alex.” You smiled up at him.

“I know. I meant what I said.” His gaze hardened, looking straight at Y/N, as if to say ‘I really did mean it’.

“Okay. If I call…” she trailed off.

“I’ll answer.” He dug his hands in his jacket pockets, nodding firmly. As she dug her keys out of her bag, he turned back to the path, ready to continue his walk back home.

“Hey, Will?”

“Yeah?”

“Text me when you’re home safe.”

“I will. Don’t forget to call.” He grinned.

“Don’t forget to answer.” And with that, she walked inside.

A week later, she called.

——

A/N:

A nice little slightly angsty one shot for this adorable anon request and one of my fave moots, @octaneink ⭐️ she and @bethorwhateverr are very much keeping my Will fic writing inspo alive at the moment.

As per, feel free to pop any suggestions in my ask box.

Vibe of the fic very loosely based on this track! Hope it was what you envisioned ❤️ https://open.spotify.com/track/0Exki6SgSuYfWQDP0npFlF?si=eZCA2st4Qme-XVFqbTIPpw

[octaneink]

How do you expect me to be fine? is now out 🥳🥳

This is my first fic that's angst related, I hope I had some ansgt...I'm not that confident that I added enough, but, yeah. Let me know what people think!

[octaneink]

How do you expect me to be fine?

Will Lenney x Reader

Summary: All you wanted was a fun night out with friends, but things took an unexpected turn when someone started flirting with you. Or maybe… it will turn out better than you expected? Warnings: Alcohol consumption, emotional tension/arguments, angst (I hope) Notes: This is the fic from this ask! I hope I did it justice ☺️☺️☺️

The bass from the club’s speakers thrummed through your chest, a steady, pulsing rhythm that seemed to sync with your heartbeat. The neon lights overhead cast a kaleidoscope of colours across the room, bathing everything in a surreal, electric glow. You were surrounded by your usual group—Harry, Cal, Josh, and, of course, Will. The night had started off great, with everyone laughing, joking, and feeding off each other’s energy. Will, in particular, had been in high spirits, his laughter ringing out louder than the music at times, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he teased you about your questionable taste in cocktails.

“A Cosmo? Really?” he’d said earlier, raising an eyebrow as you sipped your drink. “I didn’t realize we were in a 2003 rom-com.”

You’d rolled your eyes, shoving him lightly. “At least I’m not drinking whatever that is,” you shot back, nodding to the suspiciously bright green concoction in his hand.

Will had grinned, holding up his glass in a mock toast. “Touché.”

The first few hours blurred into a haze of neon and laughter, the kind of night where the air itself felt charged. Will’s presence was a constant anchor—close enough that the heat of his arm seeped through your sleeve every time he leaned in to murmur a joke, his breath grazing your ear as the music swallowed his words. You’d tilt your head, straining to catch them, only for his laughter to ripple through you, low and warm, like the hum of the baseline under your ribs.

His hands were never still. They’d flicker out to punctuate a story—a playful nudge to your shoulder, a tap against your wrist to reclaim your attention when Harry launched into another rambling tangent. Once, when he reached past you for his drink, his fingers brushed yours, lingering just long enough for your pulse to hitch before he pulled away, smirking at something Cal said like nothing had happened.

You told yourself it was accidental. Will was always like this—casual, careless with proximity, his charm as easy as the way he’d sling an arm over Josh’s shoulder or ruffle Harry’s hair. But then you’d catch him watching you, his gaze sharp and unguarded in the half-second before he looked away, the corner of his mouth quirking like he’d been caught mid-thought. You’d swallow the flutter in your throat, chalk it up to the strobe lights, the tequila, the way the room seemed to tilt whenever he grinned at you.

Just Will being Will, you’d think, even as your skin prickled where he’d touched you, the ghost of his fingertips lingering long after he’d turned back to the crowd.

The music swelled, a relentless beat that made the ice in your glass tremble as you slipped away from the group. You leaned against the bar, the cool marble biting into your palms as you waved to catch the bartender’s attention. “A Tequila sunrise please!” you shouted over the bass, earning a nod from the harried server.

That’s when you felt it—there was a noticeable shift, the presence of someone sliding into the space beside you. You turned, met by a guy who looked like he’d stepped out of a cologne ad: tousled hair, sharp jawline, a smile that said he knew exactly how handsome he was.

“Hey,” he said, leaning in close enough for you to catch the woodsy scent of his aftershave. His voice was smooth, deliberate, like he’d rehearsed it. “Couldn’t help but notice you from across the room. I’m Nate.”

You forced a polite smile, angling your body slightly away. “Hi.”

Nate either didn’t notice your stiffness or chose to ignore it. “What’s a girl like you doing here alone?”

“I’m not alone,” you said, gesturing vaguely toward your friends. Harry was mid-laugh, his head thrown back, while Will—

Will was staring at his drink, his shoulders tense. You blinked, and he looked normal, smiling happily to the group.

Nate followed your gaze, unimpressed. “Ah. Those your mates?” He leaned closer, his elbow brushing yours on the bar. “Let me guess—you’re the only interesting one in the group.”

You snorted, crossing your arms. “You’re barking up the wrong tree. Trust me.”

The bartender slid your drink toward you, and you reached for your card, but Nate was faster. He pulled out a sleek black wallet, holding up a hand to stop you. “Let me get this one.”

“No, it’s fine,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I’ve got it.”

Nate smirked, undeterred. “Come on, it’s just a drink. One dance, and we’ll call it even.”

“Thanks, but I’m here with friends,” you said firmly, sliding your card across the bar before Nate could argue. “Have a good night, yeah?”

For a heartbeat, his confidence wavered, replaced by a flicker of irritation. Then he shrugged, slick as ever. “Your loss.” he said, nodding toward your group. Before you could correct him, he melted into the crowd, leaving behind a trace of his cologne and the faintest smirk.

You exhaled, the tightness in your chest unravelling as you turned back to the bar. The tequila burned your throat when you took a sip, but the sharpness grounded you. Just a minor hiccup, you told yourself, squaring your shoulders.

You made your way back to the group, drink in hand, and immediately noticed the shift in Will’s demeanour. He was quieter than before, his shoulders tense, his gaze fixed on some point in the distance. You frowned, stepping closer to him.

“Hey,” you said, your voice soft but carrying enough to reach him over the music. “You okay?”

Will looked at you then, his eyes dark and unreadable. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just studied your face as if he were trying to memorize it. Then he nodded, his lips curving into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice low. “I’m fine.”

You hesitated, searching his face for any sign of what was really going on. But Will had always been good at putting up walls when he wanted to, and tonight was no exception. His expression gave nothing away, and after a moment, you nodded, accepting his answer even though it didn’t sit right with you.

“Okay,” you said, forcing a smile of your own. “Just... let me know if you need anything, yeah?”

Will nodded again, his gaze flickering away from yours as he reached for his drink. “Yeah, of course.”

The conversation ended there, but the weight of it lingered, pressing against your chest. Will stayed quiet, his presence a steady but distant force at your side. He nursed his drink, his fingers tapping an absent rhythm against the glass, his gaze fixed on some invisible point across the room. Every now and then, you caught him glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, but when you turned to meet his stare, he’d look away, his jaw tightening as if he were holding something back.

You tried to focus on the laughter and banter around you—Harry was now passionately arguing with Josh about something, his hands waving wildly as Cal egged him on—but your mind kept drifting back to Will. The tension in his shoulders, the way he’d avoided your eyes, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air between you. It felt like a storm brewing, quiet and electric, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to break.

You wanted to ask him again, to push past the walls he’d put up, but the music was too loud, the moment too fragile. So instead, you stayed where you were, close enough to feel the heat of his arm brushing yours, yet miles apart.

The tension between you and Will was a live wire, crackling with unspoken words and stifled emotions. It wasn’t just the way he’d been acting tonight—it was the way he’d been acting for weeks. The quiet glances, the lingering touches, the way he’d pull you close one moment and push you away the next. It was exhausting trying to decipher what he wanted, what he felt, when he refused to let you in.

And tonight? Tonight was the tipping point.

You’d tried to brush it off at first, chalking it up to Will being Will. He was always a little unpredictable, a little hard to read. But the way he’d shut down today—the way he’d avoided your eyes, his jaw clenched like he was holding back a storm—it hurt. It hurt because you cared about him, because you’d always cared about him, and it felt like he didn’t trust you enough to tell you what was wrong.

You weren’t stupid. You’d noticed the way his mood shifted whenever someone flirted with you, the way his laughter would falter and his smile would tighten. You’d seen the way he’d stare at his drink, his shoulders tense, like he was fighting some internal battle you weren’t allowed to be a part of. And you’d tried—god, you’d tried—to give him space, to be patient, to wait for him to open up.

But enough was enough.

You weren’t going to spend the rest of the night tiptoeing around his moods, trying to guess what was going on in his head. You weren’t going to let his brooding ruin your night, not when you’d been looking forward to this for weeks.

You turned to Harry, who was mid-rant about something absurd, and tapped his arm to get his attention. “I’m gonna hit the dance floor,” you said, raising your voice over the music.

Harry grinned, already swaying to the beat. “About time! You’ve been standing here like a statue all night.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t wait up.”

Cal raised his glass in a mock toast. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“So, nothing, then?” you shot back, earning a laugh from the group.

You glanced at Will, who was still staring into his drink like it held the answers to the universe. For a moment, you considered saying something—anything—to break through the wall he’d built around himself. But the way his lips pursed when he caught you looking told you it was pointless.

“I’ll be on the dance floor if anyone needs me,” you said, your tone light but pointed. Will didn’t look up, but you saw his fingers tighten around his glass.

With that, you turned and slipped into the crowd, letting the music and the sea of bodies swallow you whole. The beat was infectious, the bass reverberating through your chest as you moved to the rhythm. You closed your eyes, tilting your head back as the neon lights flashed overhead, and for the first time that night, you felt free.

The crowd pressed in around you, a blur of colours and motion, but you didn’t care. You let yourself get lost in the music, your worries melting away with every step. Out here, it didn’t matter that Will was being impossible or that the night hadn’t gone the way you’d hoped. All that mattered was the here and now.

You didn’t notice Will watching you from the edge of the dance floor, his drink forgotten in his hand. His jaw was clenched, not in anger but in quiet restraint, as if holding back something he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—let himself say. His eyes, though, betrayed him. They were dark, intense, and unwavering, tracing every shift of your body, every flicker of your smile. There was a hunger in them, a longing that he couldn’t hide, no matter how hard he tried.

The way you laughed—bright and unrestrained—made his chest tighten. The way you moved, lost in the music, seemed to pull at something deep inside him, like a thread unravelling with every step you took. He wanted to look away, to break the spell, but he couldn’t. His gaze lingered on the curve of your neck, the way your hair caught the neon light, the way your hands moved through the air as if you were painting the rhythm itself.

For a moment, his mask slipped. His lips parted slightly, his breath catching as you turned, your eyes briefly scanning the crowd. He froze, hoping you wouldn’t see him, hoping you would. But you didn’t. And as you turned back, laughing at something someone said, his eyes softened, a quiet ache settling into the lines of his face. He looked down at his drink, untouched and warm now, and exhaled sharply, as if trying to steady himself.

When he looked up again, his expression was guarded once more, but his eyes—his eyes still held that same quiet yearning, like a man standing at the edge of a fire, desperate to feel its warmth but afraid to get too close.

The music pulsed around you, the beat thrumming through your veins as you danced, losing yourself in the rhythm and the neon-lit haze of the club. But as the night wore on, the energy began to wane. Your feet ached, your head buzzed faintly from the drinks, and the weight of the evening—of Will’s silence, of the unspoken tension—started to creep back in.

You glanced at your phone, the screen lighting up with the time. It was late. Too late to keep pretending everything was fine.

You made your way back to the group, weaving through the thinning crowd. Harry was slumped against the bar, grinning lazily as Cal drunkenly recounted some story, his hands flying everywhere. Josh was scrolling through his phone, looking half-asleep, while Will…

Will was still there, leaning against the bar, his drink untouched in front of him. His eyes flicked up as you approached, but he didn’t say anything, his expression unreadable.

“I’m heading home,” you announced, cutting through the chatter.

Harry looked up, blinking blearily. “Already? The night’s still young!”

“For you, maybe,” you said with a tired laugh. “I’m beat.”

Cal raised his glass in a mock salute. “Get home safe, yeah?”

You nodded, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Will do. See you lot later.”

You didn’t wait for a response, turning on your heel and making your way toward the exit. The cool night air hit you like a wave as you stepped outside, a welcome relief after the stifling heat of the club. You took a deep breath, the faint hum of the city filling your ears as you started down the pavement.

You hadn’t gone far when you heard footsteps behind you, steady and familiar. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“You don’t have to walk me home, Will,” you said, your voice carrying over the quiet street.

“I’m not,” he replied, his tone casual, though there was an edge to it that made your stomach twist. “We live in the same direction, remember?”

You glanced over your shoulder, catching his eye. He was a few steps behind you, his hands shoved into his pockets, his shoulders hunched against the chill. He looked… tired. More than tired.

“Right,” you said, turning back around. “Same direction.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy and loaded, as you walked. The streetlights cast long shadows on the pavement, the occasional car passing by breaking the stillness. You could feel Will’s presence like a weight at your back, his footsteps keeping pace with yours.

You wanted to say something—to ask him what was wrong, to demand an explanation for the way he’d been acting all night. But the words stuck in your throat, tangled up with the frustration and hurt you’d been carrying for weeks.

It wasn’t until you reached the corner of your street that Will finally spoke.

“You looked like you were having fun,” he said, his voice low, almost hesitant.

You stopped, turning to face him. His expression was guarded, his eyes shadowed in the dim light.

“I was,” you said, crossing your arms. “Until you decided to act like a moody teenager all night.”

Will’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing. “I wasn’t—”

“You were,” you interrupted, your voice sharp. “You’ve been like this for weeks, Will. One minute you’re laughing and joking, and the next you’re shutting me out like I’ve done something wrong. And I’m tired of it. I’m tired of trying to figure out what’s going on in your head when you won’t talk to me.”

Will stared at you, his expression hardening. “You want to know what my problem is? Fine. I’ll tell you what’s my problem.”

He took a step closer, his voice rising. “My is you! You’re always so nice to everyone, and it’s like you don’t even realise how many people are constantly flirting with you!”

Your eyes widened in shock. “What are you talking about? I’m just being polite!”

“Polite?” Will scoffed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “That guy at the bar tonight, the jogger last week, the bloke at the pub who bought you a drink—it’s always someone! And you just laugh and smile and let them think they’ve got a chance!”

“I turn them down!” You shot back, your voice rising to match his. “Every single time! I’m not interested in them, and I’m not leading anyone on! Why do you even care?”

“Because I like you, okay?” Will blurted out, his voice cracking. “I’ve liked you for ages, and it’s driving me mad. So yeah, maybe I’ve been a bit of a dick tonight. But what do you expect me to do? Just stand there and pretend I’m fine when I’m not? How do you expect me to be fine when I have to watch guys flirt with you all night? When do I have to watch you laugh and smile and pretend like it doesn’t kill me every single time?”

His words hung in the air between you, raw and unfiltered. For a moment, you couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe.

“Will…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper.

But he wasn’t done. “I can’t stand it. I can’t stand seeing you with other people, knowing I don’t have the right to say anything. Knowing I’m just your friend.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Will’s chest heaved, his eyes searching yours for something—anything—to tell him how you felt.

And then, finally, you found your voice.

“You’re an idiot,” you said, your voice trembling. “You’re such an idiot, Will.”

He blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“You think I don’t notice you?” You said, stepping closer. “You think I don’t see the way you look at me, the way you touch me, the way you make me feel like I’m the only person in the room? You think I’d turn down every guy who tries to talk to me if I didn’t feel the same way?”

Will stared at you, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief to something softer, something hopeful.

“You…” he started, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” you said, your cheeks burning. “I like you too, you idiot.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. And then Will stepped forward, closing the distance between you. His hand cupped your cheek, his touch gentle but firm, and then he kissed you.

It wasn’t perfect—your noses bumped awkwardly at first, and his lips were cold from the night air, sending a shiver down your spine. But then his hand slid to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. The cold faded, replaced by the warmth of his mouth against yours, the faint taste of whisky and mint lingering on his lips.

His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. Your hands found their way to his chest, gripping the fabric of his jacket as if you were afraid he might disappear if you let go. The world around you—the hum of the city, the faint glow of the streetlights, the chill of the night—all of it faded into the background, leaving only the two of you.

It was messy and imperfect, but it was real. It was Will. His laugh, his sarcasm, his quiet moments of vulnerability—all of it was here, in the way he kissed you like he’d been waiting for this forever. And maybe he had. Maybe you both had.

When he finally pulled away, it was only far enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath uneven and warm against your skin. His hand stayed at the back of your head, his fingers gently stroking your hair as if he couldn’t bear to let go. His eyes were closed, his lashes brushing against his cheeks, and for a moment, he just stood there, breathing you in.

“About time,” he murmured, his voice rough but laced with a softness that made your heart ache.

You laughed, the sound shaky but genuine, and shoved him lightly. “Shut up.”

Will grinned, that familiar, lopsided smile that always made your stomach flip. “Make me.”

And just like that, the tension between you dissolved, replaced by something lighter, something brighter. The weight of the night, the weeks of unspoken words and stifled emotions—it all melted away, leaving only the two of you, standing there under the glow of the streetlights, smiling like idiots.

I hope this was what you were looking for! And I hope that I have made the argument (hopefully angst) between the two of them realistic and that you like the ending as well!

[octaneink]

Not sure if you already made your choice, but my vote is make them along the same "universe/stablished relationships" pls

If Not For You | WillNE

Can be read as a one shot, but follows the structure of the Best Part series!

In which Will turns 29.

———-

Will woke up to his favourite smell in the world - freshly brewed batch brew and the faint scent of Y/N’s perfume lingering across the bed sheets. The sound of the newest Sam Fender vinyl travelled down the hallway, where she could be heard humming along.

Deciding to fight the sleep he so desperately needed post charity match celebrations, Will pulled the covers back and made his way down the hallway. Turning the corner, he was met with balloons, streamers and a handmade “Happy Birthday!” sign hanging all across the living room. Hearing her boyfriend enter, Y/N crossed the room.

“Happy birthday, darling!” she stood in front of him, resting her hands on his chest.

“You really did all of this for me?” Will smiled at her, gently pulling her closer. “I haven’t seen streamers since I was a kid.”

“You only turn 29 once.” Y/N placed a sweet kiss to his cheek, grabbing his hand and pulling him through to the kitchen, where a massive spread of breakfast foods lay. “I know you mentioned you don’t have too many birthday breakfast traditions, so I thought I would pass on one from my family.. if that’s okay?”.

“Sweetheart, that is more than okay.” He kissed the side of her head. “Tell me about this one.”

Y/N went through and shared her birthday tradition - each year in her family, she and her siblings got to pick whatever they’d like for breakfast. Each year, her siblings would all vote for several items so that no one was left out. “My brother likes pancakes, whereas my sister is more of a scrambled eggs kinda girl, so we would just end up with 3 separate dishes and we’d share…. Think of it as a breakfast buffet but with no real flow.”

Will laughed. “Knowing what you and your sister are like, I have a feeling you bullied your brother into participating.”

“Yeah well, we should be celebrated for putting up with him for yet another year.” Y/N grinned, pulling a seat out for Will. “Ladies first.”

“Oi!” He tried to act offended, his grin a dead giveaway.

As they sat tucking into their breakfast, Will turned to look at his girlfriend. “Are you gonna wish Lux a happy birthday?”.

“Yeah I will later, we’ve got that padel competition to go to,” she responded, hand covering her mouth as she chewed. “Did we get him a gift?”.

“No, I was thinking our presence would be the present.” He quirked an eyebrow up at her, the two of them falling into a comfortable silence. A few minutes later, Will started giggling to himself.

“What’s so funny?” Y/N asked, trying to suppress her own laugh.

Will went to answer, before the giggles truly overtook him. “Don’t you… think it’s funny… that you clearly have a type?”. Y/N sat quietly, unsure of what he meant. “Tall, brunette, fit YouTubers born on the 11th of March.” A smirk took up real estate on his lips.

“Oh, fuck off!” Y/N laughed, picking a pancake up off of the plate and throwing at him.

She was met with absolute howling, Will teasing her something chronic. Although she tried her best to pout at the teasing, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh along. “Don’t tell Cal I traded him in for the younger model.” She was sure half of London could hear Will cackling away.

—

A morning of walking along their local coffee shop strip, opening heartfelt homemade gifts and lunch at Will’s favourite Japanese restaurant had ensued. They’d had to race to Cal’s inaugural padel extravaganza, accidentally tipsy on saké. After embarrassing themselves with a severe lack of hand eye coordination, a takeaway dinner and night of board games awaited them.

In the early evening, the YouTube crew had dwindled. They sat around Cal’s apartment, reflecting on the intense padel game. ‘Intense’, aka a lot of yelling, swearing and not actually hitting the ball. Chip had offered to umpire, but actually spent the whole time filming Bach and Arthur, finding their bickering more entertaining than umpiring.

Will, George, Chip, Freezy and Cal found themselves sitting on the couch catching up as Y/N, Becky and Sabina cleaned up the dishes from dinner and giggled over glasses of Prosecco.

Chip sat fidgeting, fighting the urge to ask what was an otherwise inappropriate question. He looked between Will and Cal, before blurting out “don’t you guys think it’s weird that you’ve dated the same girl?”.

Cal’s face morphed into one of confusion. “How the fuck do you know about that?”.

Freezy laughed. “How do you think? Harry.”

Will and Cal exchanged looks, before Cal ultimately beat him to it. “I don’t think it’s weird. None of you would’ve known if it weren’t for Harry, but since you’re all so interested, we went out for a little while and it was giving off more of a platonic vibe. Will and Y/N are different… it feels like the real thing.”

Will’s eyes softened, looking his friend in the eye. Thank you, he mouthed. He had known how rough it had been for Cal having to give up.

Freezy looked to Will. “And you’re okay with it? You’re okay with everyone being here?”.

“Well, fucking obviously mate. Lux and I have been friends for a long time. She’s the love of my life. They’re friends. Happy days, really.” Will nonchalantly announced to the group.

A wide grin spread across Cal’s face. “Did I just hear you correctly? Love of your life?”.

Will returned the grin. “Yeah, mate. She’s the one.”

George broke the comfortable silence. “Must’ve been the mullet that got her.”

Across the room, the girls roll their eyes at the cheering coming from the boys sitting on the couch.

Their last girls evening had resulted in Y/N and Sabina getting insanely wine drunk and opening up about their relationships - Y/N spilling the beans about her now not-so-secret summer fling with Cal. Becky had supervised, in tears of laughter as the other two girls desperately tried and failed to hide the true extent of their intoxication.

“You know Y/N, I’m so glad you’ve ended up with Will. I don’t know how to explain it but he just… gets you. It’s like he’s able to read your mind.” Sabina spoke sincerely, squeezing Y/N’s hand.

George, as if sensing they were having a heart to heart, slyly left the boys to come hang out with the girls. Slotting himself in between Becky and Y/N, he wrapped an arm around each of them. “My favourite ugly stepsisters.”

Both girls laughed, but Sabina stood with her jaw dropped.

George immediately began to apologise. “No Sab, I didn’t mean that really. It’s the name of our group chat.” Becky and Y/N stood cackling as George tried to justify bullying his best friends.

“Are you guys taking new recruits? I wanna be a stepsister.” Sabrina pouted, looking to the trio.

Becky grinned. “The more the merrier… or more rounds to buy.”

Y/N found herself looking amongst the room, basking in the total joy that seemed to radiate. For the first time in a while, she knew she was exactly where she was meant to be.

—

Just before midnight, Y/N and Will lay in bed, the faint sound of TikTok and laughter filling the silence. Y/N locked her phone, turning to face Will. Seeing her silent call for attention, he copied her movements.

She spoke quietly. “I have something I wanna tell you.”

“I’m all ears.” He sat up, resting his head in his palm.

“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Y/N sat, misty eyed. “I have felt myself getting a bit teary all day thinking about you and how I can’t wait to celebrate and create new traditions every year.” She paused, looking Will in the eye. “I just cannot believe that I have found someone who loves me the way you do… you are all I have always wanted but hadn’t felt I deserved.”

Will shared the same look, his eyes glistening from unshed tears. “I was literally thinking the same thing about you. All day, I’ve felt like a kid again. Like I’ve actually been really savouring my birthday and it’s got that childlike magic to it. If you weren’t in my life, I’d probably be sat here having a conniption over turning 30 next year.” She laughed. “Thanks for being here, darling. For loving me the way we both deserve.”

Placing a sweet kiss to his lips and wiping the few tears beneath her eyes, Y/N sat up in bed. “I have one last thing for you.”

“I don’t think it‘s possible for you to make today any better.” Will spoke sincerely.

“Close your eyes. I’ll be back in one second.” With that, Y/N made her way to the kitchen. A few moments later, she called down the hallway. “Are your eyes closed?”.

“Screwed shut, sweet.” Will had sat up, hands covering his eyes. He felt a dip in the bed, signalling his girlfriend had returned. “You can open your eyes now.” He slowly opened his eyes to see her sat with a singular cupcake, a lit candle in the middle of it. She softly began to sing ‘happy birthday’, her voice filling the room.

The clock read 11:59. Will blew the candle out. He dipped his thumb in the icing, raising his hand to Y/N’s mouth and smearing it across her bottom lip. She laughed as he placed gentle kisses along her jaw, eventually kissing the icing away.

Will met her eyes, speaking with total sincerity. “What a fucking privilege it is to get old with you.”

——

A/N: Hey friends! Apologies for the lack of content, it has been a pretty intense couple of weeks for me. I had intended this to be out on Will’s birthday but totally missed it (shoutout to the Australian time zones)!

Thank you so much for engaging, liking, commenting and reblogging these stories. I’m glad you guys enjoy reading my stuff as much as I love reading the plethora of wonderful fics on here.

So whether it is Wednesday or Thursday for you - wishing you a fantastic day ahead. Anddddd…. Happy AusGP week to those who celebrate!! ❤️

[octaneink]

As the anon that suggested the angst, I am HYPED 👏 👏 👏

Ahhh 😖 I hope what I write lives up to the hype 🤞🤞

I'm not really sure if it's got much angst not gonna lie, I'll have to see if I can add more points of angst throughout 🤔🤔

But we shall see

[octaneink]

Little update

Visuals of me writing the fic based on this ask:

(I'm trying to appear normal I am in the library writing this)

But fr tho I am exited, this is the first time I have written a confrontation (hopefully angst) so I hope it hits the mark...

Here is a little teaser 👀👀👀

The tension between you and Will was a live wire, crackling with unspoken words and stifled emotions. It wasn’t just the way he’d been acting tonight—it was the way he’d been acting for weeks. The quiet glances, the lingering touches, the way he’d pull you close one moment and push you away the next. It was exhausting trying to decipher what he wanted, what he felt, when he refused to let you in. And tonight? Tonight was the tipping point.

It should be out tomorrow evening!

[octaneink]

Twenty-nine? More like twenty fine

Will Lenney x Reader

Summary: The Reader and Will spend his birthday together Warnings: None Notes: This is also indulgent, I hope people like it!

The morning sunlight streamed through the kitchen window as you tied your apron around your waist, a sense of excitement bubbling in your chest. Today was Will’s 29th birthday, and you had a plan. Baking was your passion, and you were determined to make him the most incredible cake he’d ever seen.

You pulled out your recipe book, its pages stained with buttercream and dotted with notes from past baking adventures. The cake itself would be simple—a rich chocolate sponge with layers of salted caramel buttercream. But the real showstopper would be the decoration. You’d decided on a sleek, modern design: smooth white frosting with gold accents and a bold “Twenty Nine” piped in black elegant script on top.

The kitchen quickly filled with the warm, comforting scent of chocolate as the cakes baked in the oven, the aroma wrapping around you like a cosy blanket. You hummed along to your playlist, the rhythm of the music syncing with the steady whir of the mixer as you worked. Once the cakes were out of the oven and cooling on the wire rack, you turned your attention to the buttercream. You whisked together softened butter, powdered sugar, and a pinch of sea salt, the mixture transforming into a cloud of velvety smoothness.

By mid-afternoon, the cakes had cooled completely, their domed tops levelled to be ready for assembly. You spread a generous layer of buttercream between each tier, the palette knife gliding as you smoothed it into an even filling. Next came the crumb coat—a thin layer of frosting that hugged the cake, locking in any stray crumbs and allowing for a neat canvas for the final layer. With a satisfied smile, you carefully placed the cake in the fridge to set, the chill firming up the buttercream just enough for the next step.

While it rested, you tidied up your workspace and prepared the edible gold paint, mixing the shimmering dust with a few drops of vodka until it gleamed like liquid sunlight.

When the crumb coat was firm to the touch, you began the final layer of frosting. This was your favourite part. You dipped your offset spatula into the bowl of buttercream, its silky texture gliding effortlessly as you spread it in long, sweeping strokes around the sides of the cake. The motion was rhythmic, almost meditative, your hands moving slowly to create a smooth finish. Once the sides were to your liking, you turned your attention to the top, gently coaxing the frosting into an even layer that resembled a pristine blanket of freshly fallen snow.

Next came the gold accents. You dipped a fine brush into the edible gold paint, then brought the brush to the cake so you could add delicate details to the cake. A few swipes here, a few dots there—it was subtle but striking, just like you thought. Finally, you piped the words “Twenty Nine” on top in a looping, cursive font, stepping back to admire your handiwork. You snapped a quick photo to commemorate your masterpiece before covering it with a cake dome to keep it fresh.

As the afternoon melted into evening, you turned your attention to the rest of the decorations, determined to make the space as special as the cake. Fairy lights were carefully strung around the living room, their soft, golden glow casting a warm, inviting ambiance. A cluster of balloons in muted tones bobbed gently near the doorway, and a banner that read “Happy Birthday!” in bold, elegant lettering added a festive yet understated touch. On the coffee table, you arranged a spread of his favourite snacks—crisps, chocolates, and a few savoury bites—alongside a chilled bottle of champagne, its condensation glistening in the low light. Just in case he was in the mood to celebrate, you wanted to be ready. And of course, at the centre of it, his birthday cake.

When Will finally texted to say he was on his way home, you lit the candles on the cake, their soft flicker casting a warm glow over the room. With a bundle of balloons in one hand and his carefully wrapped gift in the other, you positioned yourself by the door, your heart racing with anticipation. The sound of keys jingling in the lock made your smile widen, and as the door creaked open, you called out, “Hey, birthday boy!” The balloons bobbed cheerfully above you, their vibrant colours adding to the festive atmosphere, while the gift in your hand felt like a small token of everything you wanted to say.

Will stepped inside, looking slightly dishevelled but still as effortlessly handsome as ever. His eyes widened as he took in the scene—the twinkling fairy lights, the balloons bobbing gently in the corner, and the banner that proudly declared, “Happy Birthday!” But it was the cake sitting proudly on the coffee table that truly caught his attention. Its smooth, flawless frosting and delicate gold accents gleamed under the soft glow of the lights, looking almost too perfect to eat.

“What’s all this?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief as he turned to you, his gaze flickering between the balloons in your hand and the gift tucked under your arm.

“It’s your birthday,” you said, stepping closer to pull him into a warm hug. As you wrapped your arms around him, the balloons brushed against his shoulder, and instinctively, his hands found your waist, his touch firm but gentle. His fingers curled slightly, as if anchoring himself to you, and you could feel the warmth of his palms even through the fabric of your shirt.

“I couldn’t let it go by without making a fuss,” you added, your voice muffled slightly against his chest.

Will’s eyes softened as he glanced back at the cake, then at the spread of snacks and champagne on the coffee table. His hands stayed on your waist, his thumbs brushing lightly against your sides in a way that made your breath catch. “You did all this… for me?” he asked, his voice quiet but filled with gratitude.

You nodded, smiling up at him. “Of course. You deserve it.”

For a moment, he just stood there, his hands still resting lightly on your waist, his fingers curling ever so slightly as if to pull you closer. His gaze searched yours, a flicker of something unspoken in his eyes—wonder, maybe, or gratitude, or something deeper, something that made your chest tighten. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but no words came. Instead, he let out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh, the sound low and warm, like the hum of a song you’d known forever.

Then, without a word, he leaned in, his movements slow and deliberate, giving you every chance to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. His lips brushed against yours, feather-light at first, a whisper of a touch that sent a shiver racing down your spine. The kiss deepened just enough to feel real, his mouth moving against yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache. It wasn’t rushed or demanding—it was quiet, lingering, like he was trying to say everything he couldn’t put into words.

When he finally pulled back, it was only far enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath warm and uneven against your skin. His eyes stayed closed for a moment, his lashes casting faint shadows on his cheeks, and you could feel the way his hands tightened ever so slightly on your waist, as if he was afraid you might slip away.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He murmured, his voice rough around the edges, like the words had been sitting in his chest for a while, waiting for the right moment to come out. His thumb brushed against your cheek, the touch so gentle it made your breath catch. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

You could feel the weight of his words, the way they settled in the space between you, heavy and real. And for a moment, you couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but look at him, at the way his eyes held yours like you were the only thing that mattered.

“You don’t have to do anything,” you said finally, your voice soft but steady. “You just have to be you.”

His lips curved into a small, almost shy smile, one that made your heart skip a beat. “Then I guess I’m the luckiest guy in the world,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. And when he kissed you again, it was like a promise—one you could feel in every beat of your heart.

“I just wanted to make today special for you,” you said softly, your voice barely more than a breath. The words felt fragile, like they might break if spoken too loudly, but they carried all the weight of what you couldn’t quite say—how much he meant to you, how much you wanted this day to be perfect for him.

Will’s lips curved into a small, almost shy smile, one you didn’t see often. It was the kind of smile that made your chest ache, the kind that felt like it was just for you. “It already is,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, rough with emotion. “Because you’re here.”

The words hung in the air between you, simple but heavy with meaning. His hands were still on your waist, his touch warm and steady, grounding you in the moment. His eyes searched yours, and for a second, it felt like the rest of the world had faded away—the cake, the decorations, even the faint hum of the city outside. It was just the two of you, standing there in the soft glow of the fairy lights, his forehead still resting against yours.

You could feel the way his breath hitched, just slightly, as if he was holding back something more. His thumb brushed against your cheek again, the gesture so tender it made your heart swell. “You always know how to make everything better,” he murmured, his voice low and soft, like a secret just for you. “I don’t know how you do it.”

You smiled, your fingers tightening slightly around the gift you still held. “It’s easy,” you said, your voice just as quiet. “When it’s you.”

His smile deepened, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his eyes shining with something you couldn’t quite name. Then, without a word, he leaned in again, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was slow and sweet, filled with all the things neither of you had said. When he pulled back, his forehead stayed pressed to yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“Come on,” you said finally, your voice soft but teasing, breaking the quiet that had settled between you. “Let’s celebrate.”

He nodded, but he didn’t let go of your hand, not even as you led him further into the room. His touch was warm, grounding, a silent reminder that, no matter what, you were in this together. And as you glanced at him, his eyes still soft with that quiet, unspoken affection, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something even more beautiful.

This was a bit rushed—sorry about that! I hope people don’t mind. I started this yesterday after work and finished it off today. It was before I saw that Will was in Italy, so… oops! But hey, the sentiment still stands.

Happy birthday to Will! I can’t believe he’s almost thirty and still looks fine as hell 😏😏 time really does favor some people, huh?

[octaneink]

Standing ovation, honestly I cried so hard with your latest Will story. It was lovely, thanx for not unaliving any of them.

Looooved it 😍

Aww, bless! I hope those were tears of joy! I was more than happy to give them a happy ending—I just couldn’t bring myself to write either of them dying. It’s too heartbreaking. For this, I like to imagine Will and the reader in this story passing peacefully together in their sleep, side by side.

Thank you so much for reading🩷🩷

[octaneink]

Love all these pictures!!📸✨🫶🏼

[octaneink]

Ieuan back at it again!

"Thank you Ieuan" we say in unison

All via his Instagram story

[octaneink]

REBLOG IF ITS OKAY IF I PUT SOMETHING FUCKING WEIRD AS FUCK IN YOUR INBOX

[octaneink]

Ieuan keeping us well fed with these pictures 👏👏 thank you king

Via his Instagram

[octaneink]

Standing ovulation or smth like that

this made my hole weak!

UM i mean my “whole week” 😫

[octaneink]

Gang I got on some fake nails right? It looks really nice and I'm just sat here admiring them.

Then the devil whispered in my ear, wonder how'd they'd looked wrapped around his dick🫣

Like shit out of nowhere even... anyways I'm gonna drop a request rq 😏😏