#will lenney one shots

[lenneygirl4ever]

the alchemy || Will Lenney

“where’s the trophy? he just comes running over to me”

part one of THE ALCHEMY.

pairing: will lenney x fem!reader

warnings & tags: friends to lovers. idiots with tension. idiots in denial. slowish burn. lots of nerdy football talk + a side of Willne.

summary: The two times you were recruited to play in a Sidemen charity match, and the one time you score.

a/n: hello!!! this is based on the 2022 sidemen charity match, but for convenience purposes, it's set in 2023. for the plot, of course.

also, i’m tired of looking at this so this is being posted without review! i promise part two will have more will, i’m just setting us up for success in part one. you’ll absolutely love it.

please enjoy <3

wc: idek at this point

The buzz that interrupted your sleep wasn’t what concerned you, it’s the fact that after you had hung up the first and second time, there was a third call. Begrudgingly, you toss your sheets aside and sit up, eyeing the phone on the bedside table. To no surprise, it was Simon.

You were no stranger when it came to working with the Sidemen. Starting off as a crew member who was good with a camera, slowly you were incorporated into videos, and eventually had the confidence to create your own platform. After leaving the Sidemen to focus on building your solo career, most of your audience didn't know where you gained your footing, becoming a bigger public figure outside of their work.

Getting a phone call from Simon wasn't uncommon, needless to say. You were always ready to film, to bring in new ideas for them, to be on set. After all, you had been friends with the lads for years.

"Hello?" you croak, trying to smooth down the hair that was knotted in the back of your head.

"Y/n! How are you, mate?" Simon's voice was overly chipper and sweet, too sweet. You eye your phone for a moment before pressing it back up to your ear. It was too early in the morning for either of you to be awake.

"Christ, Simon, I know you aren't just calling me at seven in the morning to ask how I am," you replied. Simon sighs briefly before letting out an airy chuckle.

"Alright, I need to ask you for a favor." That's what you were expecting. His voice hesitant and low, it made you wonder what this could really be about.

"Okay, go on then," you yawn. You weren't sure why Simon was being so ominous; you had done the lad loads of favors in the past. Bringing in extra camera crew, reaching out to other influencers, helping plan out events-

"Would you sub in for Andres for the charity match next week? I know it's last minute, but he had other conflicts, and you're one of my best mates. You-" Simon rambles before you swiftly interject.

"Simon, what are you waffling on about? You can't be serious," you say seriously. The grogginess from waking up immediately disappears, and you begin to regret picking up the phone.

"I know it's mad, but we've tossed around a ball quite a bit before-"

"I haven't seriously played footy since I was in high school! I can't imagine the shit I'd get if I were to even step foot into that stadium."

"I know-"

"And I'm the only girl! That's like a misogynist's nightmare, a woman who can think and compete!" Getting on your feet, you pace around your room like a madman. Your free hand finds its way into your hair, coarsing through it multiple times, stressfully.

"Would you let me finish? Then you can decide if it's bollocks or not," Simon asked finally. You heave out a breath of air and then hum in response. The least you could do is give him time to try to convince you.

"Look, it's the first time a lot of them have played football, and some of them play like it's the first time. It's really about having a good time, " he explains, which admittedly puts some of your worries at ease- and gets a small laugh out of you.

"Also.." he says hesitantly, hitching his breath as he trails off. You roll your eyes and groan. Of course, there's more to it; there always is. You sit back onto the edge of the bed, foot impatiently tapping on the wood floor.

"I may have called Will, and he may have told me to ask you; he promised me that with enough begging.. you'd say yes," he says, almost like a question. There's a small hint of teasing when he says it, and you can practically see the prat smiling through the screen.

Your end of the call goes silent. A flush starting at the tips of your ears and growing at the bulbs of your cheeks.

..

In 2018, the day before the charity match, you met Will in person for the first time. You knew of him through brief passing and mentions of him from Cal and the other Sidemen. Yet you never spoke to him until you were messing around with your camera during practice, getting ready to film the match the next day.

"This is who I was telling you about, Will," Cal smiles, grabbing your attention from the camera. You peer over your shoulder to see a younger lad with dark hair standing beside him. You politely set the camera down on the bench and extend your hand out to him.

"Hi, I'm y/n, I've heard good things about you!" you smile, and he leans down, weakly taking your hand and shaking it.

"Hello," he responds, his once loud chatter with Cal made you assume he'd be much more talkative. But now he is quiet and fidgety, and it makes you wonder if you've already made a bad first impression.

"Y/n is our best camerawomen. I ought to get you familiar with her; maybe you can get some good screen time." Cal smirked. Will shoves him lightly with a chuckle.

"I'm not all bad, I reckon," he insists, and you put your hands up defensively.

"Hey, we'll just have to see on the field, won't we?" you express, grabbing the large equipment and getting ready to move it inside. You stand up, getting a better look at his face. He's tall, his hair short and freshly cut, his jawline is carved out sharply, making it hard to go unnoticed.

"Cheeky," Will commented, crossing his arms over each other. And unknowingly, a grin had worked its way onto your face, your tongue pressing against the inside of your cheek. You shrug,

"I gotta get going, it was nice meeting you Will,"

..

Since then, you and Will have kept in contact frequently. He interacted with you on social media, had you come to feature in his videos, and texted you almost every day. Seeing one another once every few months had become every weekend when you moved closer to London. And you can bet that this didn't go unnoticed by anyone. Sharing clothes, traveling together, posting each other, seeing each other more than your own family— you can only assume why everyone has their presumptions.

Yet, you were great at denying, avoiding, and more importantly ignoring these blistering questions on if they or won’t they.

"So.. you called Will first, before calling me?" you ask slowly, processing it yourself. The pads of your fingers rub against your temple, then smoothing your palm across your cheek hoping it would brush away the pink that dusted your face.

"Yeah," Simon says quickly. "Is it more convincing now? "

"Fuck off,"

"I know it is," he insists. You mutter profanities under your breath before letting it go silent.

Because it is much more convincing knowing that Will had that kind of faith and trust in you. It's more convincing knowing the person closest to you would be right by your side. You weigh out the options in your head. If you do play, you'll get to say you played in front of 30,000 people, raised money for charity, and more importantly, were able to help out some of your closest friends.

"Simon, I don't know.." You mutter hesitantly, biting the nail on your thumb. Sure, you had played footy competitively in high school and tossed a ball around here and there with the lads, but other than that, you hadn't really played in a few years now.

"C'mon, you don't have to be any good, it's for charity y/n! You have to! There will be loads of fans happy that you're playing!" Simon coaxed. You shake your head instantly, knowing that half the boys lived and breathed football.

“You can’t say I don’t have to be any good when you’re probably one of the best players out there.” Countering his argument, you can tell you're at the breaking point. He's cracked you down efficiently, being nice, complimenting you, bringing Will into it- It's working so well you almost hate him for it.

“I’ve exhausted my options, y/n, please, this one time, and I’ll never ask again.” Simon protests. You huff, exasperated, and without letting another beat pass,

"Alright,"

"Alright?" he repeats, the surprise evident in his tone. You gnaw at your bottom lip, adn squeezed your eyes shut before speaking again.

"Yeah, okay, put me in." You decide finally. You can hear movement on the other end and a few other voices shout in delight. Of course, he couldn't be alone when he made the phone call.

"Oh my god, this will be legendary, thank you, thank you, thank you," Simon begins excitedly, which brings a smile to your face. Simon, even though he always was teetering on the edge of your limit, was charming and kind and that's what makes it hard to deny him.

"You're playing center, by the way. See you in a week mate!" and the phone call clicks. There, you're left to stare at your phone screen, watching as you get added to a group chat and texts start to roll in.

One week, seven days, to magically get good at football again. Right, well, it’s much too late to turn back now.

"Cheers," muttering to yourself. You fall back onto the bed, checking your messages to see a new one from Will.

"wanna show this novice the ropes?"

Word obviously spreads fast, is the first thing you think. And then you snort, with a quick eye roll, the pads of your fingers drumming against the screen.

"fuck off" you begin to type but instead you text back,

“pitch at 6 sharp"

And almost immediately Will texts back,

“wouldn’t miss it :)”

⚽️...

You arrive to the pitch first, bringing an old ball covered in dirt from when you had last dribbled with Chris. Will arrives shortly after, a wide smile and an excited pep to his jog.

“Six sharp!” he says, checking his watch to show you it's exactly 6pm. Will is very timely; he’s considerate of people's time and even makes an extra effort to arrive early. He never wants to be the wanker who shows up late and wastes others time and efforts.

"That ball is just filthy, innit?" he comments, his true Geordie accent making a clear appearance. You roll your eyes quickly.

“I don't see yours anywhere,” you respond, finishing up tying the laces of your shoes. You rock on your feet a few times, creasing the shoe and getting it to warp around your feet snugly.

"Fair enough." Immediately, Will picks the ball up and twirls it between his fingers. "What should we do first?"

You both practice dribbling, passing, and shooting. Eventually, moving on to striking and stealing, which gets aggressive, causing you to have bruises all along your legs. Will thinks that after a while, it's a good idea to mess around so you both don't end up hating each other. The time passes by swiftly, the sun setting behind you both before you realize it.

The sky is highlighted with hues of orange, yellow, and a deep red in the horizon. You turn to look at Will; his shoulder grazes your side, and as if on cue, he looks at you, too.

He silently smiles, and for a second it’s all it is, but then his hand comes up and brushes the cool of your cheekbone. He brushes the stray hair that fell, tucking it behind your ear. Smoothing down any hairs that stuck out on the back of your head with his palm.

Will always find an excuse to touch you, to be physically closer. He’s an affectionate person, you’ve always riddled it as. Oh, there’s a stray hair on your face, oh a piece of fuzz on your sweater, don’t worry if you’re nervous— his hand crawls its way onto the small of your back. And every time he did something like this, your feelings soared and free-fall in the air. You don’t know how much longer you can swallow down the shyness you feel when it happens.

Instead, you give him a small shove.

“Stop it,”

“I was just helpin’ ya,” his voice squeaks.

“Just like how you helped get Simon to convince me to play in the match next week?” You shove the ball into his chest, backing up, motioning him to play. He lets out an airy chuckle, rolling the ball onto the field and dribbling it between his feet.

“Heard about that didn’t you?”

He kicks it toward you.

“Mhmm. “

And you kick it, hard, right back.

“I didn’t help him; all I did was suggest that he ask you because you’re reliable.” Will tried to dribble around you, but it rolled just far away enough for you to steal it.

Will runs towards the goal post, attempting to block you or maybe even tackle you, you aren’t sure. From the times you’ve watched Will play, his limbs tend to fly around and it’s like he’s just experienced walking for the first time.

“And not because you know I wouldn’t say no to the prat?”

“Look, to make it up to you I’ll score you a goal at the game,” Will offers, making you raise your eyebrows. He says semiseriously, but you have a feeling it’s more joking than anything. He was always good with banter anyway.

“Yeah right,” You walk back, running up to the ball and kicking it with the side of your foot— flying into the right corner of the net.

Wills eyes widen as he watches you jog over to grab the ball again.

“And you’re the one who needs practice?” he pipes, forgetting about the conversation. You smile shyly and shake your head, grabbing the ball and handing it to Will.

"You think too highly of me, Will." His hands cup yours, causing you to look up at him. The eye contact is soft, yet his eyes squint, and you notice the small clench of his jaw.

"I don't think so. I reckon others think the world of you as well, " Will retorted seriously.

There it is again. What is so small and meaningless to him is the grandest gesture you could ever receive. Whatever way you feel is growing, and you're letting it kill you. You can hear it in the silence, see it with the lights off, and feel it when he steps into a room. It has never been clearer to you than now.

Will notes the silence on your end, reeling back his hands and letting the ball drop to the ground. He scratches the back of his neck before sweeping the ball between his feet and turning around.

"We should focus, shouldn't we? Keep practicing," he mutters absentmindedly. The words are caught in your throat, itching on the tip of your tongue. It takes every atom of your being not to blurt out your every thought. You try to ground yourself by moving your fingers, shaking off the tingling feeling Will left. Your mouth opens to say something, anything, but it snaps shut at the sight of the geordie man looking back at you.

So, instead, you ignore the interaction completely.

"Yeah, let's do that, practice."

And that’s what you did. Every day for a week, you both played until your fingers were numb and noses pink from the chill. The sun would be long gone, the stars visible in the dark, the dim lights that lit the field flickering during the times when they were ready to turn off.

And every night, when Will offered to take you home, you said yes. Will would walk on the side of the sidewalk closest to the road, his shoulder would bump into yours, and you would listen quietly to anything he had to say. He would go on and on and on the entire way home, and you still would ask if he wanted to come inside your flat for a few.

A few minutes would be you showing him your next video, and then you would cook together, and he would sit on your couch and scroll through his phone. The time moved quicker than it did on the field, causing you both to stay up late into the night.

“Where are you going?” You question from the couch, eyeing the way he begins to walk over to the door. He stands up straighter than before, looking at his phone, and then back up at you.

“Home, it’s late,” he reminded.

“Exactly. Stay, don’t act like you haven’t before,” you insist, already going to grab a few blankets and pillows for Will on the couch.

Some nights weren’t always like this. Sometimes, you’d watch something on the telly, and he’d scroll through his phone. Your body would press against his casually, like you two have done for months. Except you're more weary and hesitant, feeling like your every move was a gesture of something more.

For a week it felt like you two were playing house. It was odd, and you knew it. Everyone knew it. When James would call Will there would be quiet snickering, loud teasing. Faith and Sabina would ask for updates after seeing both of your story posts. When Simon called Will to see if he was coming to training day, he asked to speak to you knowing you’d be around.

Yet this didn’t stop the overnights at your flat, it didn’t stop Will from doing his work from your room, it didn’t prevent you from doing loads of laundry together, and it definitely didn’t stop you both from taking the train together to the hotel the day before the match.

⚽️…

The ground below you rumbles from the audience in the stadium. As the time passes you know it’s getting closer and closer to the start of the match. Your leg bounces up and down as you stretch in your own locker room, your hands shake putting on the red uniform, there’s a dryness in your throat that not even all the water in the world could wash away.

“You alright?” Wills asks quietly as his hand slips onto your shoulder. He’d been asking if you were okay ever since you lot left the hotel. And everytime you responded,

“Yeah, yeah,” except your eyebrows were knitted together, your hands picked at the beds of your nails, and you could barely interact with anyone without feeling like passing out.

“Don’t psyche yourself out, darlin. I make a fool of myself every year, all you have to do is show up and you’ve done your part!” he says delicately. You inhale through your nose at the nickname, jaw clenching to focus on breathing. All you do is nod, giving him a small smile.

You aren’t sure what will kill you first, the charity match, or the yearning in your heart. And hopefully, it’ll be the charity match.

Once everyone begins to stand, it’s three o’clock, and just like that the world begins to move incredibly fast. The lads begin two straight lines, moving through the tunnel swiftly. They all seem so confident and excited and you don’t think you even remember how to run. With Will standing infront of you, he’s the only thing that is blocking you and your vision from the roaring crowd outside.

Forgetting his gopro is on, you tap on Wills shoulder

“I’m literally shitting myself right now Will,” he laughs and he takes your hand in to his for a moment with a small squeeze,

“We’ll be all right, swear,” and by the time he turns around, you’re out in the field and the roar of the audience is jarring. You’re convinced your head whips an entire 360 to get a good look at how big the crowd was.

Once you’re down the field, you’re shaking hands with the opposing team. You nod politely and greet your friends, making polite, quick, small talks with JJ, Vik, Josh, Harry, and then Simon. You brief him with a handshake and shove at him lightly,

“God if this goes to shit, i’m blaming it all on you, ya know that?” you joke and he laughs loudly.

“I’ll keep that in mind, y/n”

You greet Chris, Tobi, and Jimmy finally before jogging your way to center to get ready for the kick off. You look back and squint your eyes to see Will as right wing, he can see you and he shows you a thumbs up. And for a moment, it washes away your nerves, until the whistle blows and the game has begun.

..

The first half of the match goes by incredibly fast. Chunkz and Niko make the first goals of the match, allowing for the teams spirits to remain high. You’re able to say that you helped assist Niko with his goal, tackling the ball under four large men. The next goal was made by Vik, and as a good sport, and friend, you made your way over to congratulate him properly.

You stay close to Hp and Chunkz during this time, the only two you feel like trust you enough with the ball. The banter is great but the encouragement they give you is better.

As the sweat beads on your forehead, your chest rises and falls quickly. Everytime you manage to catch your breath, you’re off running again. Your eyes squint looking towards Danny, seeing him get ready for the throw-in. You look around at your team and you eyes are quickly looking for Will, to see he’s already looking at you.

There’s a small smile followed by a little wave. You feel your chest tighten again, this overwhelming feeling is all so sudden and new. The sweaty palms, the overthinking, the flush on your neck. Hopefully it’s all from nerves, and not just from the Geordie man.

The moment ended as quick as the moment came, because Danny Aaron’s then throws the ball into the field. Luckily for you, you were on the edge of the box. The ball comes rolling toward you fast, you’re able to dribble it between your feet, swiftly moving past Callux. You decide to create space between the two of you, but with the other team circling in on you, the only thing to do was shoot.

So, you shoot.

The ball is headed straight towards the net and looks like it could make it past the post, but to your disappointment, the ball bounces off the post and goes right back onto the field.

“Shit,” you mutter out, a hand wracking through your hair ready to run after the ball again. But, Theo is quick to take the ball from under one of the lads on the opposing team, making a quick recovery by striking and making the goal.

A breath you didn’t know you’d been holding finally came out. While you smile and clap for Theo, your energy is low and you are so tired.

“Y/n!” a familiar voice yells from behind you, and you’re quick to turn around. Wills hair is pushed back and sweaty, yet he doesn’t think twice before engulfing you into a bone crushing hug.

“Not making a fool of myself am I?” you ask, pulling away to look at him. Will chuckles and shakes his head immediately,

“That’s a joke, right? You’re ridiculous,” he says sincerely and breathlessly. You thank him briefly before substitutions start to happen, allowing there to be some down time.

Which give you the time to remember what he said to you the first time you had practiced together.

“You still promised me a goal,” You mention, before looking into the gopro on his chest, “Will owes me a goal today, and I better get it,”

“I didn’t promise anything,” he counters quickly. Your head tilts at this, with wide eyes, and he nervously laughs and rubs his neck. Even though he knows you’re joking, he still feels the need to fulfill it.

“You know what, I’ll.. do my best to. I can promise you that, y/n.” And without warning, the lot of you are off again.

…

4 - 3

After the first half of the match, it’s looking promising for your team. Theo scored another goal, and spirits were still high. You were able to switch out and take a needed breather. But after the second half of the match started, that’s when your team started to take a tumble.

You were off the pitch until Pinero got injured, and needed a substitute. So with half a bottle of gatorade and an electrolyte packet in your system, you hopped to your feet and ran back on the field. Once you hear that Simon is getting switched out with Chris, you sigh.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you mutter under your breath, knowing that Chris is a force to be reckoned with. Speed also gets switched off the field, and you’re not sure without him you guys could win. You look around hoping to find a familiar face, but for some reason you can’t find him. Where is the left wing player?

Your thoughts are interrupted by the blow of the whistle, allowing the match to continue. You see the ball fly in the air, and you’re on your feet, going wide incase someone needs to pass. But the ball goes farther and faster than you could run, that’s when you see Will.

Will runs from left back and goes towards the net like he’s a striker. He runs right past Ethan and Harry, getting a close range of the ball. Once Chunkz taps it down, Will slides toward the ball, knocking it into the net.

In the 80’ minute, Will scores what could be the final goal of the match.

“Oh my god,” you say aloud, mouth agape.

In the moment you got tunnel vision. All you could see is Will getting on his feet and spin on his heels looking for something, someone. Everyone starts to run towards Will, to congratulate him, to dogpile on him. But when his eyes land on you, he bolts toward you with all his might.

As he’s running, he’s yelling something, pointing at you. He says it multiple times, too quick for you to make out.

“What!?” You yell breathlessly, leaning forward like you were going to be able to magically tell what he said. But without warning Will comes crashing into you, the impact causing you to stumble backwards, almost losing your footing.

Guess you’ll have to find out what he said later.

When you pull away, you grab onto his shoulders firmly, bouncing with delight.

“Did you see that? I haven’t scored a goal like that ever, i’ve always been in the back—“

“I know! I know!” you cut in between his excitement.

“I’m so glad you were here to see that—“ He’s quickly cut off by the rest of the team congratulating him. Patting him on the shoulder, squeezing him into a brief hug, Chris even comes over and says he’s done well.

You begin to back off to get back into the center field, watching as the smile on Wills face takes over him completely. He radiates warmth, sunshine, and complexities. The ache with quiet yearning, watching him celebrate. There was nothing in the world like it, and if it meant having Will this way rather than not at all- you’ll live with this ache forever.

8 - 7

The match finishes briefly after Will scores. Manny scoring at the 86’ minute tying up the two teams. And Simon, of course, gets the last goal of the match putting his team first. Your team is able to score another point, Theo ends up stepping up to kick the ball and Pie face blocks it from the net. Meaning, the Sidemen have won. Regardless, everyone is in a good mood no matter the turnout. All the players rush towards the field, congratulating each other, briefing the match that just ended.

You thank Hp and Chunkz for a good game, and shake Theos hand for being another good defensive player with you.

Simon makes his way over to you and he puts his hands on the tops of your shoulders, shaking you gently.

“See! It wasn’t so bad was it?” he teased. You roll your eyes and lick the dryness off your lips, admittedly, it wasn’t so bad. After you got over the burning in your chest, the ache in your sides, and the soreness in your thighs.

“Uh no, no, wasn’t too bad. I stayed with Hp and Chunkz a lot of the time, we were all playing really well,” you say before asking how Simon think he did.

“I got a hat trick and three assist, what more could I have asked for?”

“That’s fair,” is all you can respond with. All you can think of is the times you could’ve tried to score, the times you weren’t able to make a good pass, or interfere a pass. Simon reads your mind as he sees the conflict on your face, quick to bring you back to reality.

“I mean you were really great. A few assists, you and Theo on defense was a nightmare, there is no complaints on my end. I hope you consider coming back and playing again, Y/n, seriously.” Simon squeezes your shoulder one last time before he sees Harry, the two rushing towards one another excitedly.

You turn around to see Elz and Munga coming up to you with their mics, a cameraman following. They pull you away from the group of lads whilst everyone gets ready to clap around the stadium. Taking a step back upon seeing the camera, a lopsided smile creeps up on your face.

"Y/n, what an incredible match. You were all over the pitch this game! Can you give us some words about your first time playing in a Sidemen charity match and how it felt?" The mic comes in your face, and you let out an airy chuckle.

"Yeah..um, I haven't played footy since high school, really. When Simon asked for me to play, I was.. reluctant at first, you know, but now I'm really glad I said yes." You rattled on.

"We saw some great strikes on the pitch. How do you feel about barely missing the goal during the first half?" Munya asks.

Licking your lips, you let a beat go by for a moment so you can think. The question poses room for scrutiny from the audience; you can feel your stomach churn, anxiety creeping up on the hairs on the back of the neck. You knew if you seemed too confident, people would not like that, but if you seemed too humble, people would condemn you too.

"Uhm... That's a great question," you begin to say, craning your neck to look for comfort. Your eyes try to find someone in the swarm of people, desperate to get away from the hosts.

"It was my first time! I definitely could've made it if I had been a bit closer or wasn’t getting closed in on,” you finish honestly. There, you see Will is staying back to wait for you. His eyes are wide, and his head is slightly tilted; it's a tender look that was being reserved for you.

"We are thrilled to have you here, and we hope you come back next year,” Elz says and you thank them both quickly before jogging over to Will.

He doesn’t say anything, instead all he does is wrap his arm around your shoulder and guides you to where everyone else is doing their claps around the stadium. You’re curious to see if this moment will make the video, or any of the other ones between the two of you, after all it is up to Mikey.

You find yourself smiling at the crowd, the people, the cameras. In that moment, you truly felt like you belonged and deserved to be there. Saying hello to fans, signing papers, and receiving handmade items. Although, you knew that once this was over, you'd be under mass criticism. You'd go on Twitter and see everyone criticizing how you played, but getting the validation from your mates was all the resignation you needed to tune those other voices out.

“Why the sour face?” Will leans down to whisper to you, amongst the ruckus the lot is making as they leave the pitch.

“Nothing gets past you,” commenting, crossing your arms over on another. He rolls his eyes and groans at this.

“I know you,”

For a second you debate sucking it up, going to the pubs to celebrate with everyone after. Or, going back to the hotel room for the night, and getting ready to leave as soon as possible to see your cats back at home.

“All I want to do is go home, really,” you sigh. Wills face doesn’t change, all he does is hum in response before looking at his phone to see the time.

“Yeah? Why don’t we go back to the hotel and get going,” he suggests simply. You quirk an eyebrow, knowing that prior he was more than willing to go to the pubs with everyone.

“Is.. that what you want?” asking hesitantly. Giving him time to think, and change his mind. But without another beat passing he nods his head.

“Not what about what I want, let’s get home,”

He flashes you a soft, genuine smile that makes the corner of his eyes crinkle. Will smooths your hair done with his palm like always, before silently walking to the locker room to change.

You’re left to stand there, cheeks flushing. Home. Insinuating that home is with you. All of this feels so natural, the soft touches, the quiet intimacy, the longing stares. You wonder how long it’s going to take for you to crack, to risk it all and reveal the raw truth. But, for another day, you can hold on to the pieces of Will that you already have.

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[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?

[lvrslvt3]

SNOWY ESCAPE | w.lenney

main masterlist | yt masterlist | will masterlist

౨ৎ will lenney x fem!reader

౨ৎ summary : reader is stuck sharing a room with her crush; willne.

౨ৎ warnings : none

౨ৎ notes : i need more will content, might do a part 2? Idk i need requests

"you know me, i never turn down a free holiday." you shrugged with a smile, the few people out of the group who were listening to you rolling there eyes. you had been recruited last minute on a skiing holiday that freezy had to pull out of because he was unwell. so even though you had no interest in it you were now here.

"cheapskate." arthur piped up and you shot him a feigned look of annoyance,"i thought you'd be happier seeing as you're sharing a room with your little boyfriend."

you gasped, slapping his arm repeatedly as he tried to push you off. you told him to apologise, and shut up, to which he finally did after recovering from his laughter. since you had took freezy's place you were now sharing a room with your long term crush — willne.

you had met him from your mutual friend, arthur tv, after he introduced you to the rest of the youtube group. you had instantly clicked. everyone else knew you had a crush but you hadn't made any moves on him, way too nervous.

"will you two stop being kids?" will called out as you finally left arthur, turning to face him quickly with as much composure as you could. "come on, let's put our stuff away before we get out."

you nodded and rushed after him, blushing as he took your suitcase with him aswell. you glanced back at your friends, giving them a nervous smile as chip and arthur gave you a thumbs up - hoping to up your confidence.

"our room is quite small," he stated as you walked up the stairs and down the hallway. the group had rented a massive cabin, it was filled with character and was the perfect getaway. "but we have a hot tub, so we win."

"wow, you're so lucky to be hot tubbing with freezy every night." you joked, to which he looked back with a cheeky smile, "i'll have you know, he would be the lucky one."

you laughed, already rosy cheeked as you finally got to the room at the very end of the hall. there was a large king sized bed in the centre of the room - which makes sense why the two men would be fine sharing it as it could fit about double of them.

"wow." you muttered as you studied the wooden accents, the paintings hung up and finally the doors which led to a small patio. there was string lights hung up on the canopy ceiling, the small balcony surrounded with a slightly dated, wooden railing with a large hot tub in the centre.

"you're gonna have to drag me out this room, fuck skiing." will decided after you two had raided the room, finding some chocolates, a bottle of champagne and some sweets that had been left for you to enjoy.

"I say we just lock ourselves in." you jokingly suggested after closing the door to the small en-suite. "go on then." will replied from his spot on the bed, relaxing into the thick quilt. you flushed red, wishing it was serious, and let out a chuckle.

after going out in the snow and having a few drinks at the bar the group has finally called it quits and headed to there rooms. you immediately stood at the window to look out at the hot tub, hands on your hips.

"what you thinking about?" will asked while coming to stand beside you. you glanced up at him, giving him a small smile while taking in his appearance. his hair was dishilived from wearing a beanie all day, and his cheekbones was tinted red with the cold from outside.

"i was thinking about warming up the hot tub and having some champagne," you answered while glancing back at the mountains as you gathered all the guts you had, "care to join?"

will threw his head back, lips pouting out slightly before looking down at you with a cheesy grin. "oh, may aswell." he rubbed his hands, and you cheered as you moved to your suitcase to find a swimsuit.

by the time you had settled on one and changed, will had heated up the hot tub and changed into some black swimming trunks. you came out only a few minutes later, snacks in your hands since he had already gotten the champagne and glasses.

"you brought a speaker?" you raised a brow at the faint, quiet music playing in the background. you were impressed by his playlist, only making him more attractive. you smiled at the sheepish expression, climbing into the hot tub after sitting ur snacks on the ledge.

will handed you a glass and popped open the champagne, pouring each of you a glass and settling the bottle out the way. "cheers to getting the best room." he announced whilst offering out his glass.

"cheers." you clinked yours against his, falling into a easy going conversation while you settled into the warm bubbles surrounding you, glancing from will to the beautiful snowy mountains you were facing. eventually, after sneaking downstairs to get another bottle of alcohol, you two had settled into a comfortable silence.

"will." you hummed, your head tilting over to him. he was already looking at you, letting out a small hum to let you know he was listening. "promise me you'll never shave your mullet."

the randomness of the sentence made him let out a warm, deep chuckle. his eyes closed and you stared at his smile lines, the sight of him so happy making you lighten up.

"right, okay. i'll keep it just for you, darlin'" he moved his arm from the back of the hot tub to your shoulder, patting it before only moving it back halfway so you could still feel the heat of his touch.

you leaned your head back and closed your eyes. you thought of the debrief you'd be having with your friends tomorow, and you almost wanted to kick your feet that you were in such a man's presence.

"we better get inside before we shrivel up into raisins." will commented as he finished the last few chocolates, beginning to climb out. he offered you a hand, which you took so you could climb out safely. "on you go, i'll clean up."

"you sure? i really don't mind."

"don't be silly." will waved you off, so you wrapped a towel around you and entered back into the room. somehow, in the heat of the hot tub, you hadn't realised how chilly it had gotten.

the rooms only source of heat was a fireplace that was slowly flickering away. you put some more wood into it, before going for a shower as quickly as you could and then changing into something comfortable.

by the time you had came out will had tidied and was now patiently waiting while scrolling through his phone. "all done." you commented while drying your hair with the towel.

"don't you have more layers?" he questioned while glancing up and down your frame, only wearing fluffy shorts and a vest top. you shook your head, "i can only sleep in shorts, and i only have enough hoodies for during the day. that's what happens when you learn about a holiday the day before i guess."

you moved to the round mirror, continuing to try and dry your hair before bed. suddenly, will appeared by your side and placed down a hoodie on the set of drawers infront of you. "i have plently spare, don't be afraid to ask."

before you could respond he slipped into the bathroom, leaving you to freak out in silence as you slipped it on and pinched yourself — life seeming way to good to be true.

"you're hair better be dry before you come into this bed." you commented as you pretended your full attention was on your book and not will who was putting away his things. he had changed into loose sweatshorts and a jumper.

"i'm not a freak," he responded while climbing into bed beside you, "i am completely dry, promise." he stayed awake for an extra half hour before finally turning off his phone, his lamp and bidding you a goodnight.

you finished most of your book before copying him, beginning to feel the chill as you stared into the room that was now in complete darkness. you could hear movements from somewhere in the house, and even though you knew it would be one of your friends it still unsettled you.

because of this you tossed and turned constantly, feeling safe with will there but also knowing the cabin you were in was fairly remote and the signal was terrible - meaning you couldn’t easily call for help.

“are you okay?” a dark, rough voice caused you to jump, spinning around to face a sleepy will. he was propped up on his elbow while the other hand rubbed at his eyes.

“shit, sorry.” you mumbled, “just a little on edge. guess it’s not smart reading a horror book when you’re in the prime place for a murderer to get you.”

“guess not.” will replied, laying back down before extending an arm out. “cmon,” he gestured with his hand, beckoning you over. you didn’t protest and instead immediately settled yourself in his arm, the warmth of his body calming your nerves. “i’ll protect ya from the killers, darlin’.”

“what you gonna do, tell them a joke?” that earned you a scoff, but one that he did with a smile on his face. “goodnight.” he tightened his grip for a second before loosening up, letting you lay comfortable as he closed his eyes.

“goodnight.” you muttered through a grin, blissfully closing your eyes. for the rest of the night you dreamed of will - not murderers.

“stop putting your cold feet on me.”

“stop snoring and i will.” you muttered back, staying close but trying to get comfortable. you liked to curl up while he spread out - which was difficult since you were in one of his arms facing his body. “and my feet are only cold cause you keep pulling the covers your way, sheet hogger.”

will groaned, his voice more attractive because of how tired he was. you were tempted to keep him up just so you could hear it. “turn over.”

“what?” you moved from his chest to look at him directly, raising your brows at the slightly suspicious request. his hair was dishelved from sleep, but the sight only made you like him more.

he twirled his finger around, and you rolled your eyes but followed his order. “okay, diva.” you muttered as you immediately began to miss your proximity.

however, will quickly came from behind you. he made sure you both were in the middle of the covers before spooning you. an arm slid under the pillow underneath your head and the other draped over your waist. this position felt a lot more intimate, your whole body melting into his.

“is this okay?” he asked in a hesitant tone. shivers ran down your spine as you felt his breath in your ear. “of course, this is perfect.” you spoke without thinking.

he let out a light chuckle before tightening his grip on you, an unspoken change happening between the two of you as the pair of you fell asleep - as content as you could be.

[clarkeysbedchem]

whatever happens, i’m letting it | part four

previous part | next part

will lenney x fem reader

summary: will falls for chris’ new assistant

masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad

yourusername added a post

tagged: sabinablair_, livvydimartino, italianbach, georgeclarkeey, willne, arthurtv, glambyflo, theburntchip, chrismd10

yourusername pov: youre a worldclass skier 🤟🏻

load more comments

sabinablair_ im genuinely terrified for you

┃ yourusername atleast its a good story of how i died

┃ georgeclarkeey yeah being killed bc you and will can’t ski for shit

┃ willne dont lump me with this pillock

┃ yourusername i dont want to be associated with him

userone i wonder how much convincing chris needed for the last photo

┃ yourusername it was none, it was his idea

┃ chrismd10 you lie!!!

georgeclarkeey if you fall one more time im not helping you

┃ yourusername you were my last hope 😔

┃ usertwo SHIPPPP

chrismd are you still gonna work for me after this holiday? 😅

┃ yourusername maybe with some compensation 😏

userthree this is looking like a couples holiday bach+liv, sabina+chip, arthur+flo, george+chris does this mean will and y/n??

┃ userone youre delusional

The lodge that you had all been staying in was quiet as everyone slept soundlessly in their room, the only sound was the wind from outside whistling through cracks and the faint sound of crackling fire that sat in front of you.

The faint scratch of you turning the page of your book sounded through the room that glowed orange from the fire and you sipped the tea in your hands gently.

It was at least 3am, but you were wide awake.

You always found it difficult to sleep whenever you were away from home, so this is how you usually ended up on any holidays you took — sitting in the living room alone whilst your friends got well needed rest.

The sound of the stairs creaking ripped you out of state of peace and your head shot to look behind you, it was Will.

“Why’re you awake?” He asked through a gruff voice making your stomach flip.

You chewed at your cheek nervously as he rounded the sofa standing in front of you, “Couldn’t sleep.”

Will tilted his head making his disheveled hair flop with it as her motioned for you to scoot over on the couch, “Why not?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, letting him drape the blanket that you had over his own legs as well, “I can never sleep when I’m not at home.”

Will moved his arms behind his head causing his tshirt to raise exposing the faint v-line on his torse that caught your attention instantly.

You tore your eyes away looking down at the mug and book in your lap, “Why are you down here?” You asked him, your finger tracing the top of your mug.

“Just came to check on ya.”

Your head shot up looking up at the Geordie boy, “You think I didn’t notice that you’re always the last one to go to bed and the first to wake up?”

“I didn’t think you noticed anything about me to be honest,” A lighthearted laugh left your lips, “I thought you could barely tolerate me.”

Will licked his lips, “I notice a lot more than you’d think, love.”

Your breath hitched at the harmless nickname as you internally thanked the lords that it was dark in the living room feeling your cheeks burn.

“Oh.”

Will hummed before slouching down into the sofa, “Is there anything that’ll help you sleep?”

You shrugged, “I’ve tried everything except medication.”

“Ahh,” Will nodded, grabbing your book and mug from your lap placing them on the coffee table ignoring your protests, “c’mere.”

You looked at him in confusion but he rolled his eyes draping his arm over your shoulder pulling you into his side.

“I do-”

“Be quiet will ya.”

You closed your mouth dropping your head into Will’s side listening the to faint rhythm of his heart against his chest and the sound of his breathing.

His thumb traced soft, delicate shapes into your skin making your eyes flutter shut despite your efforts to restrain. “You can go to sleep,” He reassured you, laying his chin on the top of your head, “I’ve got you.”

“Will you twats be quiet?” Will’s annoyed voice echoed through your ears forcing you awake from your sleep.

You stilled for a moment at the hand on your hip and feeling of small shapes being drawn on your skin. You let out a silent yawn stretching out your legs making the person beside you curse under their breath.

Your eyes opened immediately looking up at Will, who was already looking back at you with an adoring gaze, “Sorry.” You muttered, pushing yourself away from him quickly not noticing the look of disappointment that flashed on his face.

The feeling of eyes made your skin prickle as you glanced over at the kitchen spotting all of your friends watching from a distance.

Your face drained in colour before you pushed yourself up from the sofa leaving Will by himself as you darted upstairs to get ready for your final full day.

[roc-haze]

MASTERLIST/FIC RECS

George Clarke

Acquaintances (strangers meeting, one shot)

.・。.・゜✭・.

Will Lenney

Best Part (friends to lovers, series)

Complete series masterlist can be found here

>> Arms Length (part 2 to Best Part)

>> If Not For You (one shot/accompanying fic)

Cry To Me (friends to lovers, one shot)

Pushing It Down and Praying (angsty, friends to lovers-ish)

>> Where We Start (part 2)

>> Spring Into Summer (established! reader, requested fic)

Whatta Man (requested, one shot)

Dating Headcanons (requested)

.・。.・゜✭・.

Arthur Frederick

Tis The Damn Season (platonic! reader, one shot)

📌📌📌📌

Roc’s recs (AKA my favourite UKYT fics):

Polygraph - Harry Lewis by @pretendyoucantseeme

Quiet Shifts - WillNE by @sweetfcwn

Arthur Frederick and The New Producer (series) by @authortelevision

Wait, you didn’t know? - WillNE by @octaneink

Not a big deal - Chris/George by @finchyclarkemd

Playing my heartstrings like a rockstar - Arthur Hill by @clarkeybabey

Mrs Television - ArthurTV by @landoslvr

The Alchemy - WillNE by @lenneygirl4ever

Custom Fit - WillNE by @octaneink

Arthur Hill headcanons by @wcters

Inside - George Clarkey ongoing series by @tomsparkyr

Whatever Happens, I’m Letting It - WillNE series by @clarkeysbedchem

Would You Rather - Harry Lewis by @sdmnpact

October Rain - WillNE by @octaneink (repeat offender but she’s just too good)

Enjoying The View - Joe Weller by @pretendyoucantseeme (also a repeat offender but no one is shocked!!)

Almost Fumbled - ChrisMD by @w2soneshots

[live-laugh-lenney]

The One Where YN Meets Will.

Hello, hi!

I’m Emily, I’ve had this blog for a few months now and I’m not sure what I want to do with it, apart from reblog gifs of Will and catch up on all things Youtube and the Eboys and the Sidemen and all that. Thought about giving writing a go, since I’ve done some before on another blog for another fandom, and this came from my brain as an attempt at writing for WillNE.

I am willing to take requests or write anything that anyone wants me to write about, if anyone would like one written for a specific idea.

Hope you like it. x

A consistent buzz came beside her.

Rumbling on top of her bedside table, her phone laid overturned and ringing with an incoming call from someone, charging on the thick Stephen King book that she was halfway through reading, ripples rolling over the surface of the water in the tall glass placed next to it, that she took to bed with her the previous night. She glanced at the salt lamp, small and jagged-looking and emitting a dull orange glow behind the sunlight that streamed through her windows, and gave herself a tut for leaving it on overnight; she couldn’t remember leaving it on although she couldn’t help but give a mental clap at how truthful the benefits of having a Himilayan salt lamp had been.

‘MUM’

The three letter word flashed at her in bold text, above a candid photo that someone had taken of her and her mum in a heart-to-heart chat in the middle of a family barbecue that had taken a turn once her father had found the alcohol stash in the garage and turned a casual family get-together into a night where everyone stumbled over the front doorstep on their way out. A heart-to-heart conversation that had them both smiling brightly at one another.

“Mum, hi.”

“Hi, darling.” Her voice sounded so soft, so sweet, inviting and warm and YN missed her more than anything; if she had anything to say about moving miles away, she would always give the advice of making sure distance was something you could handle. “You sound tired, did I wake you? I thought you’d be on your way to work by now.”

YN looked at the red numbers on the screen of her alarm clock, reading 7:45, and she had a tiny freak-out for a brief moment before she came to the realisation that it was her day off and she wasn’t due into work until after the weekend had finished.

“You did, yeah. I’m not due at work today though. They gave me the day off since my boss’ schedule is just meetings out of town today. He’s up North for conferences and such and it was late notice for me so he didn’t mind me not accompanying him. I wouldn’t have been able to do much anyway,” YN clarified and she used her free hand to push herself up from the mattress. Her hair was knotted and pillow-messed, sticking up in all directions and falling loose from the ponytail she’d thrown it up in before she fell asleep. Her t-shirt twisted around her middle which she adjusted with her fingers, bringing her knees to her chest and staring out the window as the sun continued its rise in the horizon. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, don’t fuss about me,” she heard her mother tut from down the line. But YN couldn’t help but fuss over the two of them; if she lived closer to them, she wouldn’t worry so much because they’d be just a short distance away if they needed her help. But she didn’t live close and she hadn’t done for almost two years; she lived almost 300 miles northeast of where she used to live with her parents and it wouldn’t take her more than twenty minutes to tend to their needs. “We’re both fine, stop worrying yourself, darling. Your dad’s been back doing his gardening so he’s out there already. Watering his flowers, spraying fertiliser, cleaning all the fox poo up. He’s been growing some veggies in the plot next to the greenhouse so you can take some back when you next come to visit.”

YN smiled to herself, bringing her shoulders to her jawline before dropping them and relaxing against her headboard. The back of her head resting against the plush velvet, coloured a clean white, and her toes curled into the sheet beneath her, her fist clutching the duvet as she brought it tighter to her body.

“You can always send me some in a box? Or you could come and visit and drop them off yourself? You know I’ve got the spare room in the new place if you want to come up for a weekend. It’s vacant, just full of my empty moving boxes and bags that I haven’t gotten rid of yet,” YN said, a yawn creeping up her throat that she hid with the palm of her hand, “I need dad’s handyman work to come and help put some shelves up. You’ve not seen it yet.”

“Your dad said it’s a lovely flat. Lovely view. Lovely building. But, you know what he’s like when it comes to describing things. Everything’s lovely,” her mother snorted and YN laughed softly; her father had always been vague and she’s pretty sure that she’d never heard him use any other word to describe something other than ‘lovely’. “We’ve been talking about paying you a visit.”

“Please do. It’s a little lonely here by myself. I’m yet to meet new friends or have a chat with the neighbours. Everyone’s either back in Cornwall or back in Hackney and both are a hefty distance away.”

YN had never considered herself as an introvert so to call herself lonely felt strange.

She was always the friend who asked for the bill, she was the friend who made the complaint in a restaurant when a plate of food came back wrong, she was the friend who made advances on blokes in pubs and clubs because her friends were too shy to go and introduce themselves and she was the friend who always carried the responsibility of making polite conversation with people in pubs when they needed a table to perch themselves at. She was that friend. So making friends with strangers and starting conversations with her co-workers and approaching others who she found had kind features was never something she struggled with.

Moving to a new place and having to make new relationships and form new bonds, regardless of how far it was from the bonds and relationships you already had, she found it daunting to start fresh.  

“What are you doing today?”

“I’m not sure. The weather is really nice and it looks warm out so I might go and explore Canary Wharf and see what’s around. I need to do some shopping, food and furniture, so I might do some of that,” YN rolled onto her side and let her cheek rest against the cold side of her mattress, the backs of her thighs exposed to the cool air of her bedroom as her t-shirt rose up her body; and she made a mental note to buy herself so proper pyjamas because knickers and an oversized t-shirt could cause more problems than expected. “We’ve got a lovely grass area outside the block of flats so I might sit out there, soak up the sunshine, read a book and eat some lunch. I don’t know. Might see how the day goes, I have a good feeling about it.”

“Go exploring. You can find some places to show us when we come to visit,” and YN smiled.

“I’ll do that. You’ll love it mum. This place is amazing. I feel so lucky to have been given something as beautiful as this. I had a crack den for my first flat so this feels like a dream,” she stared at her ceiling. There was no yellow tint from how the previous tenants smoked inside and there were no unusually coloured stains on the ceiling’s coving that caught the eye because of how a stain of that colour shouldn’t have been there, leaving the mystery of just how it got there… and YN didn’t need that kind of stress over something like that. “It doesn’t smell like pee, there’s no syringes outside and there’s no sign of vomit or shit stains on the floor because it’s all laminate.”

“You deserve it, darling. You really do.”

“It’s clean, mum. It came clean, it smells clean, it looks clean. Everything looks brand new and,” YN pauses for a moment, rolling onto her stomach and she sighs with content, “I love it.”

*

After hanging up, she contemplated getting up and getting dressed for the day.

It felt rather tempting to stay in her comfortable loungewear and enjoy the silence, the time to herself and the time off she had been after for so long, taking advantage of Deliveroo and ordering food for breakfast, lunch and dinner rather than cooking something homemade and having the leftovers the next day (or for when she woke up in the early hours with a hankering for something to nibble on, because she could, because she didn’t have an authority figure to tell her no).

By the time her phone call ended with her mother, it was a little over forty-five minutes later and her alarm clock showed a time that she didn’t want to see on her day off; 8:35am. She expected another hour or two added on to her usual sleep schedule, to make a difference to the usual 6am alarm call that had her detesting her job just a tiny bit, but it wasn’t frowned upon because she’d take any given opportunity to speak to her mother. The one person she called her best friend because she really was the only person, apart from her father, that she’d drop anything and everything important for. Her sleep didn’t matter when she got to her the voice of someone she missed so dearly.

Porridge and fruit, a colourful array of strawberries and blueberries and bananas and cranberries in her bowl, and a warm cup of tea had been her breakfast as she caught up with the lifestyle Youtube channel she had been in the loop with. A Youtube channel that she had been a big fan of from the moment she moved to London, one who she turned to in times of need, one that she stumbled across when googling aesthetically pleasing ways to decorate a flat because she really needed to do something about how her Hackney flat had looked before a lick of paint and a hanging plant, one that she continued to view and like and followed tips from, even when it came to her new flat.

“Don’t be afraid to like monochrome and definitely don’t be afraid to follow a colour scheme that might seem ‘out there’ and in your face. If you like lime green then go paint a portion of your wall that colour. If you like the brightest shade of pink then go mad and add some colour to your life. You can never feel more organised than when your surroundings follow a consistent pattern that brings immense amounts of joy when you enter.”

The young girl on her screen, with space-buns either side of her head and an outfit that definitely came from a trendy thrift store clothes rail, sat before a wall of a delicious shade of peach that YN thought looked lovely; not for herself, because she’d stuck with the whites and the greys and the blacks that her flat already consisted of, but perfect for the young twenty-something year old.

“There are loads of websites where you can buy hanging plants, or artificial hanging baskets, and hanging canvas prints and wall art. I’m always looking for new things to buy so I’ll link some of my favourite online stores for you to check out; hit my Instagram mentions up with photos of things you’ve brought, too. That’s what I love to see.”

YN’s spoon clinked against the ceramic bowl in front of her as she pushed it away from her, reaching for her television remote and turning off her Youtube app, her television turning off completely and leaving a black screen behind. The flat falling silent. She looked around her, drumming her fingers against the tabletop, eyes squinting as the sunlight streamed through the wall-to-ceiling windows and made everything feel bright..

As much as she warmed to the idea of staying inside and ordering furniture and decor for her home, scrolling through online stores to buy something she thought she needed but really didn’t need, she had a good feeling about the upcoming day.

*

“Listen, love, I’m not sure if you could tell but I’m not exactly a people person. I don’t know you, don’t want to know you, have no plans to get to know you. You might live in the building but that doesn’t mean we need to be friendly.”

He spoke with such vigour in his voice that YN could only keep quiet so as to not entice a negative reaction out of him in such a confined space because confrontation was something she was never comfortable with. Sure, she’d endured confrontation before but that was from people she had been acquainted with, the ones she was friends with, people she saw on a daily basis and from people she worked with, from those who were supposed to confront her when something was wrong or hadn’t been down in a way it was supposed to be done; her boss, mainly. This man was a complete stranger, someone she didn’t know,someone she’d never seen before so instant regret filled her veins. She thought he looked friendly enough to start a quick conversation, to make the lift ride seem a little less boring, filling the empty space with general chit-chat.

Cowering away from him and almost closing in on herself, even though his attention stayed focused on the screen of his phone as he scrolled through a social media app, she thought he’d finished with her and she hadn’t expected him to perk up anymore.

“Not everyone likes to chat to strangers.”

“Well, I like chatting to strangers so don’t mind him,” a quirky Geordie accent perked up from behind her, her posture adjusting at the sudden appearance of someone behind her; she’s sure she didn’t see anyone else in the lift, apart from the towering bloke beside her, when she stepped into the lift but, then again, he was tucked away in the corner with a cap on his head and she had been looking at the floor as she entered because a mark on her white shoe had caught her attention. “Come chat to me, if you want. Promise I won’t bite your head off like matey-boy there.”

Her trainers squeaked on the floor as she spun around, eyes raking up and down his figure so she could get a good look at who the voice belonged to, almost staking him out in a way. He was a handsome chap, with brown hair sticking out from beneath a black cap upon his head that he’d pulled quite far down his forehead, a cheeky grin on his face that made the mood in the lift much brighter. There was a graphic print printed on the front of the black hoodie he had decided to throw on, the commonly-known Adidas stripes lining the length of his joggers, trainers on his feet with the laces loose and almost untying by themselves (clumsy, she assumed he was, because there’s no way he wouldn’t trip over them as soon as they loosened completely).

“I’m Will. Will Lenney.”

“I’m YN.”

“Do I get your surname? S’only fair since I told you mine.”

She laughed softly and replied with her surname, a look of appreciation on his features as he held his hand out for her to take, which she gladly shook with her own. Skin so soft, fingers so delicate, with a hold so strong that she couldn’t find herself letting go. She didn’t want to let go. This was the first contact she’d had with someone new, in a month of being new to the area, and it just so happened to be with someone she found rather attractive to the eye.

The bloke from before, who had tore down her attempts at being the friendly neighbour who he would, no doubt, see quite often, couldn’t help but let out the strongest sigh of annoyance. A sound that brought them back to reality, hands falling from their hold, dropping back down to their sides with a faint rosy-look on their cheeks that didn’t come from how warm it was. A sound that made the both of them turn their noses up, that made them their eyebrows scrunch on their browlines and made them want to really throw words at him until he gained some manners. Yet they ignored him because he wasn’t worth the time.

“You’re new here, aren’t you? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before,” he started, adjusting the backpack on his shoulder that had slipped with the movement of his arm falling down to his side. His fingertips and right down to the middle of his palm still felt heavy with the thought of her hand still in his. “I’d remember such a beautiful face.”

The heat already on her cheeks reached boiling and she knew her flushed look caught his attention. His smile turning into a grin which had her looking at her feet, shyly. A handsome lad with a sense of immense charm about him; she liked him and it wasn’t typical of her to form an attraction at such an early stage.

“Yeah, I moved in about a month ago. Floor 10, right at the end of the corridor. A proper upgrade from where I used to be located but thanks to my work, they moved me from my previous office block to my current office block in Canary Wharf and said they’d move me closer if necessary,” she thought she was rambling and she expected a look of faint annoyance on his features that would silently tell her to shut up. She picked at the loose string hanging from the hem of her t-shirt and twirled it around her finger, looking up from her feet and seeing a look of intense concentration on his face, enticing her to carry on. “The move was necessary. Completely necessary. It wasn’t a nice place where I was before, it was the first thing I saw on the website and I was desperate for somewhere to live. If I stayed there, I would be half an hour away otherwise.”

Canary Wharf.

It was a complete upgrade from the streets of Hackney and the dingy flat she had become so accustomed to for a little less than a year; the smell of weed and tobacco would fill the corridors and hit her in the face when she left her front door, the lights were always dim and flickered and the lifts were rickety and untrustworthy, discarded bikes and scooters and old prams and baby-carriers littered the space between one end of the hallway to the other, suspicious figures dressed in black hoodies and grey joggers always greeted her with stone-cold faces and squared-up jaws. An attempt, she guessed, to look like they were the typical hardnuts of the complex and that they weren’t to be messed with, even if it was just a polite ‘excuse me’ to pass them by and to be out of their hair within a moment.

It wasn’t all bad, regardless. Her neighbours were sweethearts, they always said hello and invited her in for cups of tea and a slice of cake after she finished work, most people were kind and warm and had their own back stories as to why they chose such a place to live - she could only imagine that the building was a nice place to live, with residents who took care of themselves and the place they lived in, before London gangs took over and were on the high of increasing and before drug dealers became more frequent on the streets - and her life, thank god,  was never bothered. No one intervened, no one found her life to be their business to spread and life felt normal; she had a home, somewhere to live, somewhere to sleep and eat and shower and feel warm and cosy in a bed. Even if it wasn’t as nice as she had wanted it to be, she had somewhere.

Her new flat was almost dream-like if you compared it to what she lived in before. It made her Hackney flat look like a pit; a drug-den, if you will. She could wake up to pure sunshine filtering through double-glazed windows and there was no chance that she would be rudely woken up in the middle of the night from the ghoulish moans of the wind getting trapped between cracked window panes or the drunken yells of people stumbling down the hallways back to their homes. She could walk to her new place of work rather than hop on public transport and she could take the time to explore a side of London she never had the chance to see. Her floor was laminated wood, heated when the nights were cold, and there were no stains of garishly and disgusting colours of god-knows-what from previous tenants who had lived there. The view was beautiful, she could see right to the end of the horizon, and the scenes she was greeted with on her arrival home were almost picturesque… except pictures could never do it justice.

She’d been there for a month.

A whole four weeks.

And she could already feel improvements in her lifestyle that weren’t so bold before. She woke up happier and didn’t feel the need to stay in bed for a lie-in, she felt happier during the day and had a bob in her step that brought light to her office block, she felt safe when she walked out the reception and into the open space by the entrance and didn’t feel like she would be jumped by hiding predators if she arrived home late at night. She was friendly with her neighbours, always popped round to give them any post that had been posted through her mailbox by accident or if deliveries were left with them when she’d been at work and always started a conversation with them when they stood waiting for the lift to arrive on their floor.

“Oh, nice. What is it-”

The ding of the lift stopped Will mid-sentence, silenced them and halted their conversation as the doors opened to reveal the reception floor, empty and desolate from people. It was mid-morning, almost lunchtime, so YN had assumed most were working or out in the streets of London to enjoy the sunshine; the latter being what she had planned to do.

The man from the lift, who had tucked himself in the corner and stuck earphones in to block out their conversation, made sure he was the first one out and disappeared before YN could give him a sarcastic goodbye, not that he would have heard her anyway so she settled with a wave, a really exaggerated and over-the-top wiggle of her fingers, and hoped he saw it in the reflection of the window as he left and disappeared into the mass of people walking by their block of apartments.

“You’re a right character, you,” Will admitted, nudging her with his elbow and smirking at her, “what is it you do, job-wise? That’s what I wanted to ask.”

“I’m a PA for a CEO at an advertising company. A personal assistant who runs and gets coffee for everyone, gets lunch during her lunch-break, who organises meetings and creates schedules and gets the big boss what he wants when he wants it,” she clarified, “it’s not exactly the best job and I wish I was doing something I wanted to do but it pays well. For now, it’s enough to get me by and keep this place.”

They started walking toward the automatic doors of the entrance, feeling the cool air of the shade on their exposed skin that definitely disappeared as soon as the sunshine hit them, coming to a stop just by a brick wall. Young children were running around with their parents walking behind, cyclists were dinging bells to pass through large groups and groups of university students were huddled on the grass, eating lunches they’d brought from restaurants on their way, backpacks discarded and being used as pillows as they laughed and joked. Tourists were taking photos and posing to show off where they’d been and what they got up to when it came to showing their friends back home and businessmen and businesswomen were almost speed-walking to get back to their offices in time with a styrofoam takeaway lunch in their hands.

“I’m not keeping you from anything, am I? Just tell me to piss off if I am.”

“No, no. Don’t be silly. I’m only popping round the corner to see my mate. He won’t mind if I’m late,” he said, perching down on the brick wall and patting the space beside him. The legs of his ankles rose up to show the white ankle socks he’d paired with his trainers., “What is it you want to do as a job? Just, the way you talk about your job now makes it sound like you don’t like it.”

“I do like it there. But I don’t want to be a personal assistant, running round London to get coffee and sandwiches, for the rest of my life. I’ve always dabbled in blogging, taking photos, talking about nonsense and stuff. Posting videos and vlogging, too. I’ve tried it out as something fun, documenting holidays and stuff, and I’d love to do something with that and take it further but... I don’t know,” she sat down beside him, sliding her bag off of her shoulder and setting it on her lap, arm looped underneath the handles to keep it from spilling the contents inside, “I don’t want to be a social influencer but someone who does what she wants to do and gets by by just being herself. No companies to promote her or anything. Nothing to boost her. All her,” she stared off into the distance, tapping the heel of her foot against the concrete. Will nodded. “What do you do?”

“I, uh,” he scoffed out a laugh and rubbed the nape of his neck. His hat fell from his head and he decided to swap the shade of the cap to the sunglasses he had hanging from the neck of his hoodie, “funnily enough, I post videos on Youtube. I’m a Youtuber.”

Her head whipped round and she gawked at him. Eyes wide, mouth agape and her hand found his forearm, squeezing it tightly with excitement.

“You’re not?”

“I am, yeah. I was in university, didn’t like what I was studying, and I was told that if I really felt strongly about this Youtube malarky then I should pursue it to its possible potential and see where I end up. My mum’s words, not mine,” he snorted. He felt her hand loosen around his forearm and he watched her face become rigid as she came to the realisation of what she’d done. He dismissed it because he didn’t want to embarrass her but, really, he didn’t mind and he found it endearing.  “I’m not that big or popular or anything but I’ve got a couple million subscribe-”

“Not that big,” she mocked and rolled her eyes, “a couple million subscribers is huge. I’ll have to search you up. What’s your channel name?”

“WillNE. Like, Will then an N then an E. Like a-”

“Like a play on words with your surname,” she grinned as she proudly finished his sentence for him and he nodded, rather pleased with himself; and she had to give it to him, it was something special, unique and rather creative than some of the stand-out names she could think of from the platform. Some were really out there and had no relevance to who they were nor what they spoke about, some were vague and some were almost as bonkers as the people who came up with them. “That’s really cool. This is really cool. A famous Youtuber lives in my flat complex... I’m talking to a famous Youtuber right now... heck, I’ve managed to keep my cool around someone famous and I’m amazed I haven’t embarrassed myself. Wait till I tell my friends about this. They won’t believe me.”

“They’re not fangirls or anything, are they?”

“No, ha. If anyone’s the fangirl out of my friends then it’s me. I’ll find myself watching Youtube when I’ve got nothing else to do,” she admitted, “cooking dinner? I’ll stick someone on to watch. Can’t sleep? I’ll just binge watch someone until I’m tired. Day off and there’s nothing to do? I’ll find a channel and just let it go from there.”

“Maybe I’ll pop up on there one day. I’ll help cure your boredom,” Will grinned, “then you can say ‘hey, that’s one of my mates there on my telly, that is’.”

A comfortable silence swallowed the both of them as they sat and let the seconds tick by. The tweets of the birds came from above, distant chatter came from the students lounging on the grass behind, scuffs of soles signified people were walking and jogging nearby and despite the feeling of time coming to end between the two of them, neither of them wanted to leave the other, neither wanted to bring the conversation to an end and neither of them wanted to part ways.

“So, we’re mates, huh?”

“Yeah, I reckon so,” Will smiled. Eyes locking with hers for a brief second, long enough to catch the twinkle in her eye and the genuine smile that lifted up her lips, “you’re a good’un. I like you. I think we’ll get along really bloody well, me and you.”

*

(WILL’S TEXTS. YN’S TEXTS.)

Filming a video tomorrow. Fancy coming by?

Won’t I get in the way?

Bollocks will you. Come along. Please. You can see firsthand how to make a Youtube video since you said you’ve always thought about it.

Where?

Only at my place. A TWOTI.

This Week On The Internet… nice one. I’ll be there.

You’ve done your research on me!

Spent all day googling you. As soon as you walked away, I started my research and I cut my day short so I could come home and watch your videos. Just call me a superfan now.

Superfan, ha.

I’ll have to test you. Could get you in a video to see if you’re my biggest fan.

Try me. I’ll get full marks. Your subscribers will look like phonies compared to me, hahaha.

You might have to sit off camera, out of shot, tomorrow. If I don’t finish everything by the time you get here, that is. No distractions. No pulling faces behind the camera.

I’ll be on my best behaviour. I’ll fangirl at the door, drop my Twitter handle into conversation, ask for a signature and a photo and then I’ll be fine.

I’m not going to regret this, am I?

You won’t hear a peep out of me. Promise.

Come by after lunch then. We can get some takeaway for lunch or something, if you don’t eat before, and I’ll have some bits filmed by the time you get here so you won’t have to sit in silence for too long.

Make it 1pm and it’s a deal.

Why 1pm?

It’s Saturday tomorrow. I don’t get up before noon on the weekends. Not even for you, mister big-shot Youtuber. ;)

And here I was, thinking you would throw your routine away for your new best mate.

Nice try.. see you tomorrow, William.

Ohh, serious. Full name and all. I see how it is, YN.

Goodnight, you muppet.

See you tomorrow. x

[whereyoustand]

Pancakes, Anyone?

Will Lenney x Reader

can I request a willne imagine where he wakes up and you arent in bed and he walks in on your cooking breakfast for alex and george and gee and it's all fluffy

Summary- You make breakfast for everyone after a night out and Will realises how much he loves you.

Warnings- Swearing, My terrible writing, Mentions of drinking,

Masterlist

Will's eyes fluttered open as he woke up from his sleep. Bright sunlight drifted into his room through the small gap between his curtain.

He remembered the nights before and rubbed his head to stop his hangover headache from rolling in. He groaned, wishing he didn't drink so much.

He felt around for you and his eyebrows furrowed when he came up empty.

He sat up quickly and glanced around. You weren't getting ready or anything. Will reached for his phone and glanced at the time, 9:46am. It was early.

He threw of his covers and pulled on some sweatpants and pulled on a jumper as he walked out the room. A strong smell distracted him for a second and he was confused as to who was cooking. He heard laughs in the kitchen.

He paused and waited to hear more.

"I didn't know you cooked?" He heard Alex say.

"Yeah, thank God though!" He heard George. "Was worried you and Will would be fucked otherwise!"

Will had invited them to stay the night so they weren't having to travel home drunk.

"What can I say? I enjoy cooking." You had chuckled. "Now what do you want on your pancakes?"

Will walked into the kitchen where Alex and George were sat at the counter and you were piling up pancakes. Will took a moment to stare at you and take in your presence. Your hair was put up messily so it was out of your face and you were in one of Will's jumpers that reached your knees.

"Here's some painkillers babe, I'm sure you have a hangover." You commented. "You drunk loads last night!"

"Thanks love." Will smiled and took the pills with a glass of water.

"Want any pancakes, babe?" You asked a smile on your face.

Will nodded.

"You have to give me a kiss then!" You smirked as you walked over to him.

"Ugh gross!" He pretended to gag.

"Fine no pancakes!" You shrugged innocently. Will quickly grabbed your hand and pulled you into his lap and placed a kiss on your lips.

"Ew guys, really?" George groaned.

Alex laughed. "Yeah leave it for the clickbait!"

Will flipped them off as you stood up and continued with the pancakes.

"Oh my-" Gee walked into the room. "Are those pancakes?"

"Yeah." You smiled. "Feel free to take them. There are spreads there." You pointed to an array of spreads and sides that remained scattered on the kithen side.

Will watched in awe as you poured the batter in. It was so very simple and yet all he could think about was how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

"How many pancakes do you want, love?" You asked.

"Um three at the moment please." Will smiled.

"Y/n these are fucking amazing!" George sighed in delight.

"I'm glad you like them!" You beamed. "Be a bit awkward if you didn't."

"Have you ever thought about becoming a chef?" Gee asked, she'd seen you cook a few times sine you'd stay round their flat so often."

"I'd love to." You flipped the pancake. "But it's so hard to be good with, ya'know, Gordon Ramsay and Jamie Oliver and people like that."

"Jamie Oliver can suck my left but for all I care!" Alex rolled his eyes. You let out a laugh and Will swears it's the most beautiful noise he's heard.

"Well I'm just saying," Alex continued, "he always says everyone else is shit and he's over rated. His food is shit!"

"Someone's passionate about this subject!" George snorted.

You let out a loud laugh as Alex flipped off George. Will stared at you, his mouth forming a small smile. He was so utterly and deeply in love with you.

You put a plate of three pancakes in front of Will and smiled. "Here you are," you beamed. "Fluffy, just how you like them!"

"Thank you!" Will exclaimed and started to grab spreads.

You started turning everything off and put the pan into the sink and started to wash it up.

"You not making yourself any?" Alex asked as he took a bite.

You smiled. "There's no batter left."

Will stopped spreading and glanced at you.

"I'm not that hungry anyway." You promised and placed the pan to drain. Will frowned a little and finished spreading his second pancake.

He got out a second plate and put on pancake on it and put a different spread on it.

Once Alex and George were finished, they said their goodbyes and left. Well, they left after you convinced Alex you was fine with doing all the dishes. You had given them hugs before they left and reminded them that your door was open and fresh food was always being made.

Gee then went to her room after receiving a call from her boyfriend. She smiled lightly and started skipping out the room to talk to her boyfriend.

You started to wash up more dishes when Will grabbed you arm. You glanced at Will with a raised eyebrow before he handed you the plate with a pancake on and your favourite spread on top of it.

Your eyes widened as you looked at the pancake and back at him.

"How did you-?" You started to ask but couldn't find the words.

"You always brush your teeth straight away after eating. Your breath still stinks." Will shrugged. You playfully punched him and sat at the counter. "Now, I'll wash up and you can eat up."

"You're amazing, you know that?" You commented, gazing lovingly at your boyfriend.

"Yeah, you say it to me everyday!" Will joked.

"Oh fuck off!" You rolled your eyes sarcastically and ate another bite of your pancake.

NOTE: ALL WILLNE AND COMMENTARY CREW IMAGINES WILL BE POSTED ON MY NEW ACCOUNT @willxolenney

[damn-behzinga]

Tough Guy

will lenney x reader

summary- reader takes will on a motor cycle ride and the lads want to know more about the unlikely duo.

warnings- swearing, my terrible writing,

masterlist

Will was always a typical extrovert. He craved affection and loved the idea of having someone by his side, friend or lover. He always opened his arms for people and accepted them into his heart.

You, one the other hand, were much more introverted. You were a lone wolf and didn't need a person by your side. You kept your guard up, not letting people into your life until they had truly proven themselves as trust worthy, that's what you had learnt being a detective.

The two of you weren't supposed to become lovers, yet- somehow- it happened.

After meeting at a supermarket, Will gave you his number and you texted him later on. You were vague with your answers but Will was still determined to get to know you.

After almost six months of knowing you, Will finally took you on a date. No where special or posh, he knew you wouldn't like that. He took you to a local cafe that served- in Will's words- the best cappuccino ever.

You slowly let down your walls to Will, accepting him into your life. He was different to other people. He was special.

After a while, you and Will got into a relationship. You would go on dates, only at his flat, never at yours. You only smiled genuinely after the two of you kissed for the first time.

As your walls came down, you started becoming softer around Will. Cuddling him, telling him your past, and even crying on front of him. This only happened around five months into your relationship however.

Will was okay with it though. He genuinely liked you and he was willing to let you take your time. No one was ever this kind to you. It was always judgment or anger. This was new to you.

You had taken Will on plenty of motor cycle rides. You found them comforting and relaxing. Will had enjoyed it, he'd never done it before but seeing the small smile on your face and your tense shoulders relax a bit, showed him how much it meant to you.

You met his friends by accident. It had already been a shitty day so you just wanted to see Will- who had told you prior that he would be alone- and cry on his shoulder.

You had knocked the door a few times before walking in, a little habit you had adapted together. You held your helmet in one hand whilst trying to comb out your hair with the other. You looked up and paused staring at the group of boys gathered on the sofa.

You watched as Will jumped up and smiled at you.

"Should I introduce you?" Will asked softly as he wondered over to you. You shrugged still glaring at his friends who shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

"Lads, this is y/n. Y/n these are the lads; Alex, James, George, Fraser." Will beamed motioning towards each man as he said their names. You simply nodded at them.

"It's nice to meet you." Fraser smiled after a moment of silence.

You nodded slightly, "the same goes to you."

Will walked back to his seat and continued his game of Fifa whilst you sat on a chair further away and opened your laptop to continue your work.

You were concentrating on your work when a mug was settled down besides you. You saw Will's mate Alex stood there, his own mug blanketed under his fingers.

"Will asked me to make you one whilst he finished his game." Alex explained, shrugging his shoulders.

"Thank you." You muttered before quickly throwing him a quick smile. Will had told you to be more polite to others when they give you things.

"So, what do you do?" Alex asked.

You paused what you were doing and turned to him. "I do work and ride a motorcycle."

"You have a motorcycle?" Alex exclaimed. "That's so cool!"

You blinked with surprise. "What?"

"You've got the whole tough guy aesthetic, how the hell are you with Will?" Alex's eyes widened.

You let out a dry chuckle.

"They say opposites attract and, well, I guess we do." You spoke.

"He really likes you." Alex mumbled. "He's become happier."

You refused to let the blush creep up to your cheeks. "I like him as well."

Alex smiled. "I'm glad he found you." He said before standing up and walking away.

"I'm glad he did to." You whispered as you stared at him from across the room.

[musicaldaydreams]

OCTober Day 1: Journey

Sometimes, Amaranth really wished her job didn’t take her so far away.

Ordinarily, she loved it. Never had she felt such purpose as when she was going from place to place for Interpol, finding the clues necessary to stop international troublemakers in their tracks. She loved the places, she loved the people she met, and she especially loved when she found the final piece of evidence that made everything else fall into place. She even enjoyed going undercover, becoming someone new every week. It was interesting, to get a glimpse into a thousand lives apart from her own.

But when one of those jobs happened to take her out of the region on that one day each year, she allowed herself a moment to grumble about the inconvenience.

She did so, as she held tight to the back of her Dragapult, high in the skies over the ocean. She felt a little bad, asking this of her new partner; Lenney had most likely never been on a journey this long in all his life, and here she was, asking him to carry her to Kalos after only knowing each other a few months. Lenney didn’t seem to mind, though; he felt calm under Amaranth’s weight, and every now and then he would pick up a burst of speed and hoot with joy as he carried her through a cloud or past a flock of Fletchling.

Eventually, the forest below grew familiar, and Amaranth patted Lenney’s head and motioned for him to land. He turned and shot like an arrow toward the canopy, only slowing down just in time to gently break through and set his Trainer down on the grass below. She caught her breath and then swatted at the Dragapult, and when he looked expectantly at her she stuck out her tongue.

“Thanks, Lenney,” she said. “I should walk from here.”

She recalled him to his Pokeball and examined the trees, and after a few moments she took off walking. The path she took was not marked, but she knew the way well. It was in her contract, one of the few things she’d insisted on; that she be given this one day, each year, to herself. Her bosses hadn’t even hesitated. She sometimes wondered if they knew what she wanted it for, or if they especially cared- or if they’d followed her, at any point, just to ensure she wasn’t endangering the organization. If they had, she hadn’t heard about it, and she didn’t especially care either way, as long as she was allowed the time.

The forest grew denser as she walked, darker, until suddenly- it ended.

The Pokemon Village was as beautiful as ever. This year, she could see four young Snorlax dozing around the place, and with a small rush of happiness she recognized one of them as the young Munchlax who’d been running around wildly the last time she’d been here. Tiny Flabebe gathered around her curiously as she opened her bag and withdrew a polished pink and yellow Poke Ball. It felt heavy, as always, and as Amaranth held it she took a deep breath.

And pressed the button.

The shimmering beam grew and quickly solidified, and the sun caught the glittering gems of Xerneas’ horns as it stretched its neck out. The Flabebe, excited, scattered around the Pokemon’s hooves.

It turned to Amaranth, and she bowed her head. When she looked up, though, there was a smile across her lips. “Been a while, hm?”

Xerneas tilted its head, and brought its nose down to touch Amaranth’s hand. Her smile widened, but she took a step backwards.

“It’s been eleven years,” she said, closing her eyes. “To the day.”

“Trrrrr.”

“I’m glad we met, even if the circumstances weren’t… great,” she said. “But I need to ask you again. Are you ready to-“

She felt something warm press against the top of her head, and opened her eyes to see Xerneas leaning its neck down, resting its head on her own. It took a step back and licked her forehead with its tiny tongue.

Amaranth grinned. “You sure?”

Xerneas stuck its tongue out at her.

Amaranth laughed. “Okay, okay. Well, we still have the day- let’s enjoy a break.”

They shared a peaceful, playful day among the wild Pokemon of the Pokemon Village. Someday, Amaranth knew, Xerneas likely would want to go on its way, to taste freedom once more. But for now, Amaranth was glad to spend any time she could with it, and with all of her teammates.

[lenneygirl4ever]

PREVIEW

a sneak peak at part one of THE ALCHEMY

pairing: will lenney x fem!reader

warnings & tags: friends to lovers. slowish burn. idiots with tension. also idiots in denial. lots of nerdy football talk + a side of willne.

summary: The two times you were recruited to play in the Sidemen charity match, and the one time you score.

a/n: hello!!! here’s a brief view of a two/three (?) part series i have in the works. it’s not perfect, but i’m much too excited to wait to publish the whole thing. please enjoy <3

…⚽️

The buzz that interrupted your sleep wasn’t what concerned you, it’s the fact that after you had hung up the first and second time, there was a third call. Begrudgingly, you toss your sheets aside and sit up eyeing the phone on the bedside table. To no surprise, it was Simon.

You were no stranger when it came to working with the Sidemen. Starting off as a crew member who was good with a camera, slowly you were incorporated into videos, and eventually had the confidence to create your own platform. After leaving the Sidemen to focus on building your solo career, most of your audience didn't know where you gained your footing, becoming a bigger public figure outside of their work.

Getting a phone call from Simon wasn't uncommon, needless to say. You were always ready to film, to bring in new ideas for them, to be on set. After all, you had been friends with the lads for years.

"Hello?" you croak, trying to smooth down the hair that was knotted in the back of your head.

"Y/n! How are you, mate?" Simon's voice was overly chipper and sweet, too sweet. You eye your phone for a moment before pressing it back up to your ear. It was too early in the morning for either of you to be awake.

"Christ, Simon, I know you aren't just calling me at seven in the morning to ask how I am," you replied. Simon sighs briefly before letting out an airy chuckle.

"Alright, I need to ask you for a favor." That's what you were expecting. His voice hesitant and low, it made you wonder what this could really be about.

"Okay, go on then," you yawn. You weren't sure why Simon was being so ominous; you had done the lad loads of favors in the past. Bringing in extra camera crew, reaching out to other influencers, helping plan out events-

"Would you sub in for Andres for the charity match next week? I know it's last minute, but he had other conflicts, and you're one of my best mates. You-" Simon rambles before you swiftly interject.

"Simon, what are you waffling on about? You can't be serious," you say seriously. The grogginess from waking up immediately disappears, and you begin to regret picking up the phone.

"I know it's mad, but we've tossed around a ball quite a bit before-"

"I haven't seriously played footy since I was in high school! I can't imagine the shit I'd get if I were to even step foot into that stadium."

"I know-"

"And I'm the only girl! That's like a misogynist's nightmare, a woman who can think and compete!" Getting on your feet, you pace around your room like a madman. Your free hand finds its way into your hair, coarsing through it multiple times, stressfully.

"Would you let me finish? Then you can decide if it's bollocks or not," Simon asked finally. You heave out a breath of air and then hum in response. The least you could do is give him time to try to convince you.

"Look, it's the first time a lot of them have played football, and some of them play like it's the first time. It's really about having a good time, " he explains, which admittedly puts some of your worries at ease- and gets a small laugh out of you.

"Also.." he says hesitantly, hitching his breath as he trails off. You roll your eyes and groan. Of course, there's more to it; there always is. You sit back onto the edge of the bed, foot impatiently tapping on the wood floor.

"I may have called Will, and he may have told me to ask you; he promised me that with enough begging.. you'd say yes," he says, almost like a question. There's a small hint of teasing when he says it, and you can practically see the prat smiling through the screen.

Your end of the call goes silent. A flush starting at the tips of your ears and growing at the bulbs of your cheeks.

..

In 2018, the day before the charity match, you met Will in person for the first time. You knew of him through brief passing and mentions of him from Cal and the other Sidemen. Yet you never spoke to him until you were messing around with your camera during practice, getting ready to film the match the next day.

"This is who I was telling you about, Will," Cal smiles, grabbing your attention from the camera. You peer over your shoulder to see a younger lad with dark hair standing beside him. You politely set the camera down on the bench and extend your hand out to him.

"Hi, I'm y/n, I've heard good things about you!" you smile, and he leans down, weakly taking your hand and shaking it.

"Hello," he responds, his once loud chatter with Cal made you assume he'd be much more talkative. But now he is quiet and fidgety, and it makes you wonder if you've already made a bad first impression.

"Y/n is our best camerawomen. I ought to get you familiar with her; maybe you can get some good screen time." Cal smirked. Will shoves him lightly with a chuckle.

"I'm not all bad, I reckon," he insists, and you put your hands up defensively.

"Hey, we'll just have to see on the field, won't we?" you express, grabbing the large equipment and getting ready to move it inside. You stand up, getting a better look at his face. He's tall, his hair short and freshly cut, his jawline is carved out sharply, making it hard to go unnoticed.

"Cheeky," Will commented, crossing his arms over each other. And unknowingly, a grin had worked its way onto your face, your tongue pressing against the inside of your cheek. You shrug,

"I gotta get going, it was nice meeting you Will,"

..

Since then, you and Will have kept in contact frequently. He interacted with you on social media, had you come to feature in his videos, and texted you almost every day. Seeing one another once every few months had become every weekend when you moved closer to London. And you can bet that this didn't go unnoticed by anyone. Sharing clothes, traveling together, posting each other, seeing each other more than your own family— you can only assume why everyone has their presumptions.

Yet, you were great at denying, avoiding, and more importantly ignoring these blistering questions on if they or won’t they.

"So.. you called Will first, before calling me?" you ask slowly, processing it yourself. The pads of your fingers rub against your temple, then smoothing your palm across your cheek hoping it would brush away the pink that dusted your face.

"Yeah," Simon says quickly. "Is it more convincing now? "

"Fuck off,"

"I know it is," he insists. You mutter profanities under your breath before letting it go silent.

Because it is much more convincing knowing that Will had that kind of faith and trust in you. It's more convincing knowing the person closest to you would be right by your side. You weigh out the options in your head. If you do play, you'll get to say you played in front of 30,000 people, raised money for charity, and more importantly, were able to help out some of your closest friends.

"Simon, I don't know.." You mutter hesitantly, biting the nail on your thumb. Sure, you had played footy competitively in high school and tossed a ball around here and there with the lads, but other than that, you hadn't really played in a few years now.

"C'mon, you don't have to be any good, it's for charity y/n! You have to! There will be loads of fans happy that you're playing!" Simon coaxed. You shake your head instantly, knowing that half the boys lived and breathed football.

“You can’t say I don’t have to be any good when you’re probably one of the best players out there.” Countering his argument, you can tell you're at the breaking point. He's cracked you down efficiently, being nice, complimenting you, bringing Will into it- It's working so well you almost hate him for it.

“I’ve exhausted my options, y/n, please, this one time, and I’ll never ask again.” Simon protests. You huff, exasperated, and without letting another beat pass,

"Alright,"

"Alright?" he repeats, the surprise evident in his tone. You gnaw at your bottom lip, and squeezed your eyes shut before speaking again.

"Yeah, okay, put me in." You decide finally. You can hear movement on the other end and a few other voices shout in delight. Of course, he couldn't be alone when he made the phone call.

"Oh my god, this will be legendary, thank you, thank you, thank you," Simon begins excitedly, which brings a smile to your face. Simon, even though he always was teetering on the edge of your limit, was charming and kind and that's what makes it hard to deny him.

"You're playing center, by the way. See you in a week mate!" and the phone call clicks. There, you're left to stare at your phone screen, watching as you get added to a group chat and texts start to roll in.

One week, seven days, to magically get good at football again. Right, well, it’s much too late to turn back now.

"Cheers," muttering to yourself. You fall back onto the bed, checking your messages to see a new one from Will.

"wanna show this novice the ropes?"

Word obviously spreads fast, is the first thing you think. And then you snort, with a quick eye roll, the pads of your fingers drumming against the screen.

"fuck off" you begin to type but instead you text back,

“pitch at 6 sharp"

And almost immediately Will texts back,

“wouldn’t miss it :)”

[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!

[simpstar123]

Jealousy || Will Lenney

Requested - No, requests are open though ✨

Word Count - 1,278

4.30.20

"What a cock," Will says to Stephen in an annoyed tone. Stephen follows his friend's gaze to Simon Minter, who is leaning against the wall and chatting to Y/n. He, and almost everyone for that matter, were aware of Will's massive crush on her. Whenever he sees her with someone else, he gets jealous, and then becomes passive-aggressive with her or just ignores her completely.

"She doesn't even look interested in him, but of course he can't tell," Will adds angrily. He watches them talk for a minute and eventually, Stephen sneaks away to get another drink. Will turns around and, realizing Stephen had left, wanders over to talk to Harry instead.

"Hey Will, what's up?" Harry asks as the taller boy approaches him. He immediately notices Will's glare and follows it over to Y/n and Simon. It takes him a few seconds to pick up on the problem, but he soon realizes that Will is radiating jealousy.

"Has he always had a thing for her or is this new?" Will scoffs, turning to face Harry, who laughs in response.

"Mate, he's not interested in her at all," Harry replies confidently, although Simon's body language was saying the opposite. "You should go chat her up."

Will rolls his eyes and watches the two talk for another couple of seconds. He sips his drink, then raises his eyebrows at Harry. "What? You think I'm into her or something? We're just friends. I don't want Simon bothering her because..."

"You're in love with her." Freezy, who had walked up while Will was talking, finishes for him. Will immediately turns and locks eyes with Cal. At first, he seems angry, but his expression quickly changes into one of defeat.

"It doesn't matter. She's never had a thing for me, and now she's gonna get with him." Will says as he glances back over to the pair. Freezy rolls his eyes and grabs Will's arm.

"Let's go talk to them then." He suggests, pulling Will along behind him as he walks. Will groans and attempts to pull his arm away, but Freezy keeps a tight grip on him. Along with Stephen, Harry, and Freezy, most of Will's friends were sick of him denying his feelings for Y/n. Freezy decided to take this opportunity to make him face his fears.

"Hey, what are you two talking about?" He asks as he drags Will to stand next to him. Simon and Y/n both turn to him and smile.

"Video ideas," they reply in unison, which causes them to look at each other and laugh. Y/n notices Will looking annoyed and staying quiet. She catches his eye and smiles softly. His eyes brighten as soon as they meet hers. He silently curses himself for letting her see the way she makes him feel.

"What are you boys up to?" Simon asks Cal and Will, completely oblivious to Will's sudden mood change. The two shrug and exchange a quick glance.

"Checking out some fit birds." Cal jokes, elbowing Will. Simon laughs and Y/n smiles politely. Will chokes on his drink as he hears Cal's words. It was way more straightforward than Will had expected Cal to be about this, although Cal didn't seem to care. He glanced up at Y/n again before staring aimlessly at the people around them. There was nobody else at this party that he really wanted to talk to, none of them could compare to Y/n.

All of a sudden Simon clears his throat. Someone had caught his eye across the room, although Will was unable to tell who it was. Simon excused himself and made his way through the crowd to go and talk to them, leaving Y/n alone with Cal and Will. As soon as Cal notices, he nods at Will and smiles.

"I'm gonna go get another drink." He says, wandering off in the direction of the kitchen. Will watches him as he walks away, silently wishing that he didn't feel so awkward without him around. Y/n stares at Will, with the anxious expression on his face, and smiles.

"You good?" she asks, immediately causing Will to look at her, then blush and look away. He nods absentmindedly, trying to come up with something witty or interesting to say. He looks around them until he's sure no one is paying attention to them, then he leans against the wall next to her just like Simon had been.

"So, do you fancy Simon or?" he asks, hoping to hide the desperation in his voice. He was just curious, and not at all very obviously jealous. She laughs in response as she looks over to Simon, who is talking to a few people that Will doesn't recognize.

"Yeah, right." she says, "Never in a million years." Will fills with hope at her reaction and laughs along with her. She smiles at him before glancing over to Cal and shaking her head. Will looks over as well and notices that he's practically all over some girl. When he turns back to Y/n, he notices the confidence radiating from her. He searches her eyes for any sign of jealousy but finds nothing. She's happy for Simon to be chatting up other girls, so maybe she was being honest about the two just being friends.

Suddenly, Cal reappears next to the two of them, a wide smile plastered on his face. Will quickly shakes his head but the blond male takes no notice. "How are you two lovebirds doing?" he asks, wiggling his eyebrows at them. Y/n smirks but hides it by taking a sip of her drink. Will cringes and tries to ignore Cal.

"We're not-" Will starts but Y/n cuts him off.

"We're having a pretty good time," she says, meeting Will's eyes with a playful glimmer in hers. "How about you and that girl you were just with?"

Freezy laughs and brushes it off. "Oh, I'm not really into her like that," he replies, quickly looking down at the floor.

"Got rejected?" she asks, reading Freezy perfectly. He huffs and nods, embarrassed. Will laughs and stands up a little straighter, trying to ignore the heat spreading across his cheeks.

"It's all chill though, I have tons of other girls just begging to get with me." he jokes, glancing between his two friends. They both laugh again and nod along with him.

"Actually, are you both free this weekend?" she asks, her eyes lighting up with an idea. The two boys nod, glancing at each other in confusion before returning their attention to her.

"Cool, how about a double date then? Cal, I'll set you up with one of my friends, you'll love her," she says, smiling brightly at the two of us.

"Hell yeah," Cal says, immediately turning and high-fiving the shorter boy. She rolls her eyes at him and smirks at Will. Across the room, one of the other boys yells something about shots, and Cal gives the two a quick wave before heading over in that direction.

"Did you just ask me out?" Will asks slowly, a hint of hope in his voice. She looks him up and down for a second, sighing softly.

"Yes, I couldn't wait any longer for you to get the courage to do it yourself," she jokes, "Is that alright with you?"

Will feels his face burning and looks away, begging his brain to come up with a witty reply. "Um yeah, sounds good," he says, "I'll pick you up at seven?"

"Sure, 7pm Saturday. Let Freezy know if you see him again." she smiles, disappearing into the crowd.

[clarkeysbedchem]

dni and rules

dni

✮⋆˙ racist and/or xenophobic, sexist/misogynistic, homophobic, transphobic, or just generally disrespectful to anyone i write about purely based on their skin color, ethnicity, sexuality, or gender.

rules

✮⋆˙ only write fluff and angst

✮⋆˙ only writes ‘x reader’

✮⋆˙ i write for female readers

✮⋆˙ you'll find smaus, one-shots, multi-chapters & series here

✮⋆˙ accepts requests <3

who i write for

✮⋆˙ george clarke

✮⋆˙ chris dixon

✮⋆˙ arthur frederick

✮⋆˙ arthur hill

✮⋆˙ will lenney

✮⋆˙ harry lewis

✮⋆˙ isaac smith

[wallpapernifty]

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[octaneink]

Food Market Dates

Will Lenney x Fem!Reader

Summary : A totally cute, innocent date at the market where they try out new foods Warnings: Implied sexual themes towards the end and a discussion about pineapple being on pizza Notes: I am sorry gang idk what happened to me when I was writing this. It was like I was possessed, mostly for that part at the end.

The train rattled along the tracks, the dreary UK weather outside the window a mix of grey skies and the occasional drizzle. Will sat next to you, his long legs stretched out into the aisle, his hand resting comfortably in yours. His thumb traced lazy circles over your knuckles, a small, absentminded gesture that made your stomach flutter. He was scrolling through his phone with his free hand, the faint sound of whatever video he was watching barely audible over the hum of the train.

You, on the other hand, were engrossed in a book—paperback you’d picked up at the station earlier. It was one of those novels you loved, the kind that end up with a dog-eared cover and pages that smelt faintly of coffee. You were halfway through a particularly juicy scene when Will suddenly squeezed your hand, pulling your attention away from the page.

"You know what I’m most excited about today?" he asked, his voice breaking the quiet hum of the train.

You looked up, marking your page with a finger. "What? Finally admitting that I have impeccable taste in food?"

He snorted, shaking his head. "Impeccable taste? That’s a stretch. Remember the time you tried to convince me that pineapple belongs on pizza?"

"Because it does!"

"Because you’re wrong," he shot back, grinning.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. "Fine. So what are you most excited about, then?"

He leaned back in his seat, his hand still warm in yours. "The food, obviously. But also… just this. You, me, no plans, no stress. Just a normal, chill day. No arguments about pizza toppings, no you stealing the last bite of dessert—"

"Hey, that was one time!"

"—and no me having to remind you that pineapple is a crime against pizza," he finished, his grin widening.

You nudged him with your shoulder, laughing softly. "Well, for the record, I’m excited too. Even if you do have terrible opinions about food."

"Oi, my opinions are flawless," he said, though the twinkle in his eyes suggested he knew exactly how flawed they were.

You shook your head, leaning into him slightly. The train swayed gently, and you let your eyes drift back to the window, watching the grey landscape blur past. Will’s hand tightened around yours, a silent reassurance that pulled your attention back to him.

"So," he said, his tone light and teasing, "what’s the first thing we’re getting at the market? And don’t say something weird like… I don’t know, candied eels."

You laughed, the sound soft and warm in the quiet carriage. "I was thinking skewers. Or maybe that tea place we saw last time. You know, the one with the really colourful drinks?"

"Ah, the one you made me try even though I said I didn’t like boba?"

"You loved it!"

"I tolerated it," he corrected, though the smile on his face betrayed him.

"Sure you did," you said, rolling your eyes. "And I’m sure you’ll tolerate it again today."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, and you felt his thumb brush over your knuckles again. "Fine. But only because you’re cute when you’re smug."

You shook your head, laughing softly, and let your gaze drift back to the window, the train rattled on, the rhythm of the tracks steady and comforting.

The market was a riot of colours and sounds—stalls draped in vibrant fabrics, the sharp hiss of oil hitting a hot griddle, and vendors’ voices rising above the hum of the crowd. The air was thick with the mingling scents of spices, sweet sauces, and the occasional waft of fresh herbs. Will walked beside you, his hand brushing yours every so often, his touch light but deliberate, as if he couldn’t quite resist the pull to be closer. The two of you wandered through the bustling aisles, the smell of freshly steamed dough and savoury fillings drawing you toward a stall selling bao buns.

You stopped in front of the stall, the golden, fluffy buns piled high on the griddle, their tops glistening under the soft glow of the stall’s lights. You pointed at the pork-filled ones, turning to Will with a grin. "Can we get these?"

He nodded, already pulling out his wallet. "Anything for you," he said, handing over the cash to the vendor with a quick smile. His voice was soft, almost tender, and it sent a little shiver down your spine. Turning to you, he added, “But don’t let it go to your head.”

You rolled your eyes, but the way his lips quirked into a smile made it hard to stay annoyed. There was something about the way he looked at you—like you were the only person in the entire market—that made your heart skip a beat.

The vendor handed you a paper tray with two fluffy bao, the steam rising in delicate curls. Will leaned in, his shoulder brushing yours as he studied the buns. "Alright, let’s see if these are as good as they look," you said, picking one up and blowing on it gently before taking the first bite.

The rich, savoury filling hit your tongue, the flavours of tender pork, sweet hoisin, and a hint of ginger mingling perfectly. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, a small, contented hum escaping you. When you opened your eyes, Will was watching you, his gaze soft and intent, as if he were memorising the way your face lit up.

"That good, huh?" He asked, his voice low and warm, like the first sip of tea on a cold morning.

You nodded, carefully breaking off a piece of the bao, making sure to get a bit of the tender pork, the sweet hoisin, and a hint of ginger in one perfect bite. Holding it out to him, you grinned. "Your turn."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your fingers as he took a bite. His eyes widened as he chewed, a look of genuine surprise crossing his face. "Alright, that’s incredible. Another one."

You laughed, breaking off another piece and holding it out to him. He took it from your fingers, his lips grazing your skin again, and this time, you felt the warmth of his breath against your hand. The simple act felt strangely intimate, and you couldn’t help the way your pulse quickened.

The two of you went back and forth, sharing the bao bun between you—breaking off pieces, you feeding Will, and laughing as you tried to avoid getting sauce on your hands. The warmth of the buns contrasted with the crisp autumn air, but it was nothing compared to the warmth spreading through your chest every time Will’s fingers brushed yours or his eyes met yours with that soft, knowing look.

By the time the bao was almost gone, you held up the last bite, raising an eyebrow at Will. "Final piece. Who gets it?"

He grinned, his eyes locking onto yours as he leaned in. His lips grazed your fingers again, lingering just a fraction longer than necessary as he took the bite. "Cheers, love," he said, his voice low and teasing, the endearment slipping out so naturally it made your breath catch.

Your fingers froze midair, the warmth of his lips lingering on your skin. You quickly looked away, pretending to fuss with the napkin, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. Will caught your reaction—the way your eyes flickered, the slight smile you tried to hide, the way your fingers lingered in the air for a second too long. He didn’t say anything, but the corner of his mouth twitched into a knowing smirk.

Before you could recover, he leaned in again, this time pressing a quick, soft peck to your lips. You blinked, startled, but before you could say anything, he pulled back slightly, his tongue darting out to lick his own lower lip. "Sorry," he said, his voice teasing, "you had a bit of sauce there."

You stared at him, your face burning. "There was no sauce," you protested, licking your lips.

He shrugged, his smirk widening as he followed your lips. "Could’ve sworn there was. Ah well, there's none now. You're welcome, by the way."

You shook your head, laughing softly to cover your fluster. Will glanced around the stall, taking in the steam rising from the griddle and the vibrant colours of the surrounding market. "Alright," he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. "What’s next?"

You and Will wandered through the aisles, the vibrant colours of the stalls and the chatter of vendors creating a lively backdrop. You had just left the bao stand, the taste of the fluffy buns still lingering on your tongue. Will walked beside you, his arm brushing against yours as you navigated the busy aisles. His hand occasionally grazed yours, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that felt deliberate, like he was testing the waters, seeing how close he could get without fully taking your hand. Each touch sent a little spark through you, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

"So," he said, glancing down at you with a grin, "what’s next? You’re the food expert here."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I’m not an expert. I just like eating."

"Same thing," he replied, his tone teasing. "You’ve got that… vibe. Like you know what’s good."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide your smile. "Alright, Mr. Compliments. Let’s see…"

You scanned the stalls as you walked, the two of you weaving through the crowd. The market was a maze of options—sizzling skewers, steaming dumplings, colourful desserts, and more. Will kept pace beside you, his hands in his pockets, but sometimes, he’d bump your shoulder or let his fingers brush against yours, sending little jolts of warmth through you. It was like he couldn’t help himself, and honestly, neither could you.

"Remember that time we tried to make bao buns at home?" he asked suddenly, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. "Don’t remind me. That was a disaster."

"Disaster?" he repeated, laughing. "Mate, we set off the smoke alarm. Twice."

"Yeah, because someone thought it was a good idea to crank the oven up to max," you shot back, grinning.

"Hey, I was following your instructions!"

"You were not!"

The two of you laughed, the memory of flour-covered counters and charred buns still fresh in your minds. Will nudged you with his elbow, his grin widening. "We should try it again sometime. Third time’s the charm, yeah?"

"Only if you promise not to touch the oven," you said, raising an eyebrow.

"Deal," he replied, holding up his hands in mock surrender. His fingers brushed against yours as he lowered them, and you felt the warmth of his touch linger even after he pulled away. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the noise of the market seemed to fade into the background. There was something in his gaze—something soft and unguarded—that made your heart skip a beat.

As you continued walking, the smell of grilled meat caught your attention. You glanced toward a stall selling skewers—yakitori, grilled prawns, and lamb kebabs. The skewers were glistening with a sticky glaze, the aroma irresistible.

"Skewers?" you asked, nodding toward the stall.

Will followed your gaze, his eyes lighting up. "Skewers it is."

You approached the stall, the vendor busy flipping skewers on a hot grill. Will leaned in, his shoulder brushing yours as he studied the options. "Can we try one of each?" you asked, turning to Will.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Greedy today, aren’t we?" He teased, but he was already pulling out his wallet and handing over the cash. His fingers brushed against yours as he handed you the tray, and you felt a little shiver run down your spine.

The vendor handed you a paper tray with the skewers, the smell of charred meat and sweet marinade making your mouth water. Will watched as you picked up the lamb skewer, taking the first bite.

The rich, slightly gamey flavour of the lamb skewer hit your tongue, and you wrinkled your nose, clearly not a fan. You glanced at Will, who was already watching you with that amused glint in his eyes, like he’d been waiting for your reaction.

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he laughed. "Not your thing, huh?"

You shook your head, handing the skewer to him. "Here, you can have it."

He took it without hesitation, biting into it as he kept his gaze on your face. "What’s wrong with it?" he asked, mouth full, his voice muffled but still teasing.

You shrugged, already reaching for the yakitori. "Just not my thing. Too… gamey."

Will chuckled, still chewing. "You’re just using me as a human bin, aren’t you?"

You grinned, taking a bite of the yakitori. The tender chicken, glazed with a sweet soy sauce, was perfect—juicy, flavourful, and exactly what you’d been craving. "Pretty much," you said, your mouth half-full. "But hey, you don’t seem to mind."

He finished the lamb skewer in a few quick bites, licking a bit of sauce from his thumb in a way that was unfairly distracting. "I don’t," he said, his tone light but his eyes lingering on you a beat too long. "But don’t think I won’t remember this next time you’re eyeing my fries."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Noted."

He reached for the grilled prawn next, holding it out to you. "Your turn."

You took a bite, the smoky flavour of the prawn hitting your tongue. It wasn’t bad—grilled to perfection with a hint of chilli and garlic—but it wasn’t your favourite either. You gently pushed the skewer back toward him. "Here, you can have this one too," you said, laughing.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression playful. "Are you sure? These look banging."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I’m sure," you said, though a small part of you wondered if he’d noticed how your pulse quickened when his fingers brushed yours. You took another bite of the yakitori, the savoury flavour grounding you. "I’m sticking with this."

He shrugged, taking a bite of the prawn. His eyes lit up as he chewed. "Alright, you’re missing out. This is delicious."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I’ll take your word for it."

Will reached for the yakitori, taking a small bite. His eyes widened as he chewed, a look of genuine surprise crossing his face. "Okay, you’re right," he said, his voice warm and a little teasing. "This is superb."

You grinned, holding out the skewer to him. "I know, right? Want more?"

He shook his head, pushing it back toward you with a soft smile. "Nah, that one’s yours. I’ve got the prawns."

You smiled, taking another bite of the yakitori as Will glanced around the skewer stall, taking in the sizzling grill and the vibrant display of meats. His eyes lingered on the vendor flipping skewers with practiced ease, the flames from the grill casting a warm glow on his face. For a moment, you just watched him—the way his lips curved into a small smile, the way his shoulders relaxed as he leaned casually against the stall. He looked… happy. Content. And it made your chest feel impossibly warm.

"Right," he said, turning back to you with a grin. "What’s next? Drinks?"

You nodded, finishing the last bite of yakitori and tossing the skewer into a nearby bin. "Drinks sound perfect. But only if you’re paying."

He laughed, the sound low and warm, and you felt his hand brush against yours again as he stepped closer. "You’re relentless, you know that?"

"Yep," you said, grinning up at him. "And you love it."

He didn’t deny it, just shook his head with that same soft smile as he reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours like it was the most natural thing in the world. "C’mon, then," he said, tugging you gently toward the next stall. "Let’s find something sweet to wash all this down."

As you wandered further into the market, you spotted a stand selling bubble tea. Visual samples of colourful drinks were lined up in tall plastic cups, the boba pearls glistening like little jewels at the bottom. You pulled Will over, studying the menu, your fingers still loosely intertwined with his. His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, a small, absentminded gesture that made your stomach flutter.

After a moment, you pointed at the Thai iced tea and the classic milk tea with boba.

Will raised an eyebrow, his smirk playful. "Two drinks? Greedy, aren’t we?"

You smirked back, already reaching for your wallet, but he beat you to it, pulling out his own with a wink. "My treat," he said, handing over the cash before you could protest.

The vendor handed you the drinks, and you immediately took a sip of the Thai iced tea. It was sweet and creamy, the perfect balance of flavours. The rich, spiced tea blended perfectly with the condensed milk, and you couldn’t help but hum in approval, your eyes meeting his, Will was watching you his expression soft and amused.

"That good, huh?" he asked, his voice low and warm.

You nodded, holding out the drink to him. "Your turn."

He took a sip, his eyes widening as the flavours hit his tongue. "Wow," he said, his tone genuinely surprised. "That’s… incredible. Not too sweet."

You laughed, taking the drink back. "Told you."

Next, he reached for the milk tea, taking a cautious sip. The chewy boba pearls rolled into his mouth as he chewed, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Okay, this is amazing too. How do you always know what’s good?"

You grinned, taking a sip of the milk tea yourself. The chewy boba was a pleasant surprise, and you couldn’t help but smile. "It’s a gift," you said, your tone teasing.

Will noticed your reaction, holding out his hand for the milk tea. "Let me try that again."

You handed it to him, and he took another sip, his eyes lighting up as he savoured it. "Yeah, no, this is definitely a winner. You’ve got impeccable taste."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I know."

Then he reached for the Thai iced tea again, taking a longer sip this time. His face lit up even more, a look of pure delight crossing his features. "Okay, wait, this one might be even better. How is that possible?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Of course you like the one I wanted. Typical."

Will grinned, holding the Thai iced tea out of your reach. "Finders keepers."

"Oi!" you protested, trying to grab it back.

He held it high above his head, laughing as you jumped to reach it. "You’re such a child," you said, though you couldn’t stop smiling.

Will finally relented, handing the drink back to you with a smirk. "Alright, alright. You can have it. But only because you’re cute when you pout."

You rolled your eyes, taking the Thai iced tea and taking another sip. Will glanced around the drink stall, taking in the colourful display of drinks, but his hand never left yours. His fingers laced through yours like it was the most natural thing in the world, and you couldn’t help but notice how warm and solid his grip felt.

"Right," he said, turning back to you with a grin. "What’s next? Dessert?"

You nodded, "Dessert sounds perfect."

He laughed, the sound rich and warm, and you felt it vibrate through your chest. "You’re relentless, you know that?"

"Yep," you said, grinning up at him. "And you love it."

He didn’t deny it, just shook his head with that same soft smile as he tugged you gently toward the next stall. The market lights flickered on as the sun began to set, casting a warm, golden glow over everything. The air was cooler now, but you barely noticed, too focused on the warmth of his hand in yours and the way his shoulder brushed against yours as you walked.

The dessert stall was a colourful explosion of sweets—mochi, taiyaki, and towering soft serve cones in flavours like matcha, black sesame, and hojicha. You pointed at the matcha soft serve, the vibrant green ice cream swirling into a perfect peak, its colour so vivid it almost glowed under the soft lights of the stall. The earthy aroma of matcha wafted toward you, mingling with the sweet scent of condensed milk. "Can we get one of those?" you asked, turning to Will with a hopeful smile.

Will glanced at the cone, then back at you, his expression softening as he took in the way your eyes lit up. He didn’t say anything at first, just reached for his wallet, his fingers brushing against yours as he pulled it out. You couldn’t help but notice the way his lips curved into a small, private smile.

"If it makes you smile like that, of course," he said, his voice low and warm, like the first sip of tea on a cold morning. He handed over the cash to the vendor, his movements unhurried, as if he were savouring the moment as much as you were.

You and Will moved away from the stall, weaving through the bustling crowd until you found a quieter spot near the edge of the market. It wasn’t much—just a small alcove between two stalls, sheltered from the main flow of foot traffic—but it felt like your own little haven.

Will leaned casually against the wall, his shoulder brushing yours as you stood side by side. The hum of the market was still there, but it felt distant now, like background noise to the quiet moment you were sharing. You held the cone between you, the coolness of the ice cream a sharp contrast to the warmth of his body so close to yours.

"Alright, let’s see if this lives up to the hype," you said, leaning in and gently wrapping your lips around the creamy peak, sucking lightly to pull a bite of the cold, velvety ice cream into your mouth. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, the soft serve like a whisper of spring—earthy, sweet, and impossibly smooth. The bitterness of the matcha balanced perfectly with the creamy sweetness, and you couldn’t help but let out a small, contented hum.

When you opened your eyes, you caught Will staring at you, his gaze lingering on your lips for a second too long. There was something in his expression—something soft and unguarded—that made your stomach flip.

"Your turn," you said, holding the cone out to him, pretending not to notice the faint flush creeping up your neck.

He blinked, snapping out of whatever thought had momentarily distracted him, and took the cone from you. But instead of taking a bite, he held it carefully in one hand, his eyes never leaving yours. The soft serve was starting to melt slightly, a tiny drip sliding down the side of the cone, but Will didn’t seem to care.

Before you could say anything, he stepped closer, his free hand sliding around your waist to pull you in. "I think I’d rather taste it this way," he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

And then he kissed you.

His lips were warm and insistent, capturing yours in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened. You could feel the cool sweetness of the matcha still lingering on your lips, and Will seemed determined to savour every bit of it. His hand slid to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling gently in your hair as he tilted your head just slightly, deepening the kiss.

At first, his tongue brushed against yours tentatively, a slow, teasing exploration that sent shivers down your spine. But then, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer, the kiss grew more insistent, more passionate. His tongue swept against yours, warm and searching, as if he were trying to memorise the taste of you mixed with the earthy sweetness of the matcha. You melted into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, the fabric of his jumper soft under your fingertips. You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm, quickening just like yours.

The world around you seemed to fade away—the low chatter of the market, the sizzle of food on grills, the faint hum of music from a nearby stall. All that mattered was the way his lips moved against yours, the way his breath mingled with yours, the way his body pressed close, solid and reassuring.

When he finally pulled back, it was only slightly, his forehead resting against yours as you both caught your breath. His blue eyes were dark, his pupils wide and blown with want, his gaze heavy with something that made your stomach flip. It wasn’t just unspoken—it was hunger, pure and undeniable. The way he looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered at that moment, sent a shiver down your spine.

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice rough and a little unsteady, as if he were struggling to keep himself in check. "Definitely starting to see the appeal."

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, where a faint trace of matcha still lingered, and you could feel the slight tremor in his hand. It was as if he were holding himself back, but just barely. The air between you felt charged, electric, and you could see the conflict in his eyes—the way he wanted to kiss you again, to pull you closer, to lose himself in you completely.

"Will," you started, your voice soft, but he shook his head, a small, almost rueful smile tugging at his lips.

"Don’t," he said, his voice low. "If you say my name like that, I’m not going to be able to stop."

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared up at him. There was no mistaking the desire in his eyes, the way his gaze dropped to your lips again, like he was already imagining kissing you a second time. He wanted you—wanted you in a way that was almost overwhelming, and it was written all over his face.

But instead of giving in, he stepped back slightly, his hand sliding from your waist. He glanced down at the cone, as if grounding himself, and let out a soft laugh. "Guess I got a little distracted," he said, his tone lighter now, though his eyes still burnt with that same intensity.

"Just a little," you said, teasing, though your voice was a little breathless. You couldn’t help but notice the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers flexed around the cone, like he was fighting the urge to reach for you again. Before he could say anything, you reached out and gently took the cone from his hand, your fingers brushing against his in the process. The contact sent a little spark through you, and you saw his eyes darken as he watched you.

"Careful," you said, your tone light but your gaze holding his. "You’re going to drop it if you keep getting distracted."

He let out a soft laugh, though it sounded a little strained, and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, well, you’re not exactly helping," he said. His eyes dropped to your lips again, and you could see the way he was struggling to keep himself in check.

You took a small bite of the ice cream, the cool sweetness a sharp contrast to the heat building between you. Will watched you, his gaze intense, and you couldn’t help but tease him a little. "Want a taste?" you asked, holding the cone out to him, your tone innocent but your eyes playful.

He shook his head, a small, almost rueful smile tugging at his lips. "I already had my taste," he said, his voice dropping lower. "And it’s going to be a problem if I have another."

Your face flushed, but you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips. Will stepped closer, his hand brushing against yours as he reached for the cone. "But since you’re offering…" he said, his tone teasing as he took a small peice, his eyes never leaving yours. There was something in the way he looked at you, something raw and unguarded, that made your pulse quicken and your cheeks burn.

He handed the cone back to you with a smirk, his arm still wrapped around your waist, pulling you just a little closer. "Next time, though," he said, his tone playful but his eyes soft with something deeper, "I’m picking the flavour."

"Deal," you said, leaning into him, the warmth of his body a comforting contrast to the cool evening air. You took another bite of the ice cream, the earthy sweetness of the matcha mingling with the lingering taste of him on your lips. The market buzzed around you, but it felt distant, like the two of you were in your own little world.

Will’s thumb brushed lightly over your hip, his touch sending a shiver through you even through the layers of your clothes. "You know," he said, his voice low and warm, "I think this might be the best date we’ve ever had."

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his voice. "Yeah," you agreed softly. "It’s pretty perfect."

He chuckled, the sound rich and full, and you felt it vibrate through your chest. "Glad you think so," he said, his tone light but his gaze holding yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. "Because I’m not done yet."

"Oh?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, though your voice was a little breathless.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Nope. Not even close."

Your face flushed, but you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. "You’re horrible." you said, though the way your heart raced betrayed how much his words affected you.

Will grinned, pulling you closer as you continued walking through the market. The lights twinkled above, casting a warm glow over the stalls, and the scent of spices and sweets filled the air. His hand never left yours, his fingers laced through yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

As you strolled, the sounds of the market fading into the background, you couldn’t help but think that moments like this—simple, sweet, and shared with him—were your favourite kind. Will’s hand in yours, his laughter in your ears, and the promise of more ahead made everything feel just a little bit magical.

😮‍💨 damn. I got carried away with this one… Was that kiss realistic? I've never kissed anyone that wasn't a peck, so I just guessed at what it would be like. Was that okay? Do people have any pointers for writing reasonable make out sessions? 🤭But anyways… I hope people enjoy!

[octaneink]

Chicken soup

Will Lenney x Fem!Reader

Summary : The Reader gets sick but Will is there with soup and hugs Warnings: None Notes: Apologies this is much shorter than the others, and if I made any mistakes! But still I hope people like it!

The rain tapped gently against the window, a steady rhythm that matched the pounding in your head. You were curled up on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket that did little to ward off the chills wracking your body. A box of tissues sat on the coffee table, nearly empty, and a half-finished cup of tea had long gone cold. You had texted Will earlier to cancel your plans, blaming it on a “little cold,” but the truth was, you felt like death warmed over. Your throat was raw, your nose was an open tap, and your body ached in ways you didn’t think were possible. You were a mess, and the last thing you wanted was for Will to see you like this.

Just as you were about to doze off, a soft knock at the door startled you awake. You groaned, dragging yourself off the sofa and shuffling to the door, your blanket trailing behind you like a cape. The effort left you breathless, and you leaned against the wall for a moment, gathering your strength. Peeking through the peephole, you saw Will standing there, his hair damp from the rain, droplets clinging to his jacket. In one hand, he held a reusable bag stuffed with what looked like groceries, and in the other, a thermos that you could only hope contained something warm and comforting. Your heart skipped a beat, even in your miserable state.

“Will?” you croaked, opening the door. “What are you doing here?”

He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, his brow furrowed with concern as he took in your dishevelled appearance. His eyes softened as they met yours, and he held up the bag and thermos like they were treasures. "You said you were sick. I brought you stuff."

You blinked at him, your foggy brain struggling to process his presence. "You didn’t have to do that. I’m fine, really."

Will gave you a look that said he wasn’t buying it. His gaze swept over you, taking in your flushed cheeks, the dark circles under your eyes, and the way you were clutching the blanket like a lifeline. "You sound like you’ve been gargling gravel, and you look like you haven’t slept in days. You’re not fine."

You opened your mouth to argue, but a sudden coughing fit cut you off, leaving you doubled over and gasping for air. Will set the bag and thermos on the counter and immediately stepped closer, his hand hovering near your back like he wasn’t sure if touching you would help or make it worse. When the coughing subsided, he gently guided you back to the sofa, his touch firm but tender.

"See? Not fine," he said, his voice softer now, almost a whisper. "Go sit down. I’ll take care of this."

You wanted to protest, to tell him he didn’t need to fuss over you, but the warmth in his eyes silenced you. There was something about the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered—that made your chest ache in the best possible way. You nodded weakly and let him lead you back to the sofa, where you collapsed into the cushions with a sigh.

Will knelt in front of you, his hands resting on the edge of the sofa as he studied your face. "You’re burning up," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from your forehead. His fingers lingered for a moment, cool against your feverish skin, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch.

"I’ll be okay," you said, though your voice wavered. "You really didn’t have to come all this way."

He shook his head, his expression serious. "I wanted to. I couldn’t just sit at home knowing you were feeling like this." He stood up and headed back to the kitchen, where he began unpacking the bag with practiced ease. "Besides," he added over his shoulder, a small smile playing on his lips, "who else is going to make sure you’re not drowning in your own snot?"

You let out a weak laugh, which quickly turned into another cough. Will was back at your side in an instant, holding a glass of water. "Drink," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. You obeyed, the cool liquid soothing your raw throat.

As you sipped the water, Will busied himself in the kitchen, the sound of clinking dishes and the hum of the microwave filling the quiet space. You watched him move around with a sense of awe, struck by how natural it felt to have him here, taking care of you. He navigated your flat with an ease that surprised you, opening cabinets and drawers as if he’d done it a hundred times before. He knew exactly where you kept your bowls, which drawer housed your spoons, and even where you stashed the extra napkins.

There was something so intimate about it, so tender, that it made your heart ache in a way that had nothing to do with your cold. It wasn’t just that he was here—it was the way he belonged here, in your space, as if he’d always been a part of it. The way he moved with such familiarity, like he’d carved out a place for himself in the rhythm of your life without you even realising it.

You couldn’t help but smile as you watched him, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, as he carefully poured the soup from the thermos into one of your bowls. He glanced over his shoulder at you, catching your gaze, and offered a small, knowing smile. “What?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Nothing,” you said, your voice hoarse but warm. “Just… you’re superb at this.”

He chuckled, popping the bowl into the microwave and setting the timer. “I aim to please,” he said lightly, leaning against the counter as he waited. His eyes lingered on you, warm and steady, and you felt a flush creep up your neck that had nothing to do with your fever.

When the microwave beeped, he pulled the bowl out, testing the temperature with a quick dip of his finger before bringing it over to you. “Careful, it’s hot,” he said, handing it to you with a napkin tucked under the rim. He sat down beside you, his knee brushing against yours, and you felt the weight of his presence like a comforting blanket.

You took the bowl from him, your fingers brushing against his. “Thank you,” you said softly, your hoarse.

Will’s gaze softened, and he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Anytime,” he said, his voice just as quiet. “I mean it.”

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak, and turned your attention to the soup, the steam rising in gentle swirls as you stirred it absently with the spoon. The warmth of the bowl seeped into your hands, a small but comforting anchor in the midst of your foggy exhaustion. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as Will settled back against the sofa, his arm draping casually over the backrest. His fingers brushed lightly against your shoulder, a subtle touch that sent a quiet ripple of warmth through you.

You didn’t say anything, and neither did he, but the weight of his presence—steady, unwavering—made the room feel a little less heavy. The ache in your body was still there, the fatigue still pulling at your edges, but for the first time that day, you felt… a little better. Not just because of the soup or the medicine, but because of him. Because he was here, and somehow, that made all the difference.

When you were finished, he took the bowl from your hands. He set it aside on the coffee table, then reached into the reusable bag he’d brought, pulling out a small packet of medicine and a fresh glass of water. "Take these," he instructed, his voice firm but gentle, like he knew you’d try to argue if he gave you the chance. "And then we’re going to watch something terrible and cheesy until you fall asleep."

You laughed softly, the sound raspy but genuine, and it made him smile—that soft, lopsided smile that always made your stomach flutter. "You’re staying?" you asked.

He raised an eyebrow, as if the question was ridiculous. "Obviously. You think I’m going to leave you like this? Not a chance." His tone was light, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that made your chest tighten. He meant it, every word, and the realisation made something warm and tender bloom inside you.

You found yourself scooting closer to him without thinking, drawn to the heat of his bod. Will didn’t seem to mind; he just adjusted the blanket so it covered both of you, tucking it around your shoulders with a care that made your heart ache. Then he reached for the remote, pulling up a list of movies on the TV.

"How about The Princess Bride?" he suggested, his arm slipping around your shoulders and pulling you closer. His fingers brushed against your arm, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. "It’s a classic."

"Perfect," you murmured, resting your head against his chest. His heartbeat was steady and strong beneath your ear, a rhythmic reminder of how alive he was, how solid and real and here. You sighed contentedly, letting yourself relax into his embrace, the tension in your body melting away as his hand began to trace slow, absent-minded patterns on your arm.

As the movie played, you found yourself paying more attention to Will than the screen. The way his fingers absently traced circles on your skin, the way his chest rumbled with quiet laughter at all the right parts, the way he kept glancing down at you, his gaze soft and searching, like he was making sure you were okay. It was all so… sweet. So him. And it made your heart feel so full you thought it might burst.

"Will?" you said softly, during a quiet moment in the movie.

"Yeah?" His voice was low, barely above a whisper, as if he didn’t want to disturb the quiet intimacy of the moment.

"Thank you," you said, tilting your head to look up at him. "For taking care of me."

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always made your stomach do a little flip. "Anytime," he said, his thumb brushing against your shoulder. "You’d do the same for me."

You nodded, snuggling closer, your cheek resting against his chest again. "Still," you murmured, your voice muffled against his shirt. "It means a lot."

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak, and turned your attention to the soup, the steam rising in gentle swirls as you stirred it absently with the spoon. The warmth of the bowl seeped into your hands, a small but comforting anchor in the midst of your foggy exhaustion.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Will didn’t say anything, just pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary. You closed your eyes, letting the sound of his heartbeat—steady and strong beneath your ear—anchor you. The faint hum of the movie played in the background, the dialogue blurring into a soft murmur that felt far away, like it was coming from another room.

His hand rested lightly on your arm, his thumb tracing slow, absent-minded circles against your sleeve, and you felt yourself sinking deeper into the warmth of his embrace.

Your breathing began to even out, the tension in your shoulders easing as the weight of the day finally caught up with you. The ache in your body dulled, the fog in your mind softening at the edges, and you let yourself drift, carried by the rhythm of his breathing and the quiet comfort of his presence. The blanket was warm, the soup had settled in your stomach like a soft glow, but it wasn’t just that.

It was him.

The way he held you like it was the most natural thing in the world, the way he seemed to know exactly what you needed without you having to say a word. It was the way he made you feel safe, even on a day when everything else felt like too much.

As your thoughts began to blur, you caught the faintest hint of his cologne, it wrapped around you like a second blanket. The last thing you remembered before sleep fully claimed you was the faint pressure of his hand tightening ever so slightly around your arm, as if even in your sleep, he was making sure you wouldn’t slip away.

When you woke up hours later, the movie was over, and Will was asleep, his head tilted back against the sofa. The TV had switched to some late-night infomercial, the volume low and the screen casting a faint glow across the room. His arm was still draped loosely around your shoulders, his hand resting lightly on your arm. You smiled faintly, your heart swelling with quiet affection as you watched him. Even in sleep, he looked like he was ready to spring into action if you so much as coughed.

Careful not to wake him, you shifted slightly, pulling the blanket up over his chest. He stirred at the movement, his eyes fluttering open as he blinked sleepily at you. "Hey," he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you whispered, your voice still a little hoarse but stronger than before. "Just didn’t want you to get cold."

He chuckled softly, rubbing a hand over his face. "You’re the one who’s sick, and you’re worried about me?" he said, his tone teasing but warm. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," you admitted, sitting up a little straighter. "The soup helped. And the… whatever else you did. Thanks."

Will shrugged, like it was no big deal, but the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth gave him away. "Anytime," he said simply. He reached over to feel your forehead with the back of his hand, his touch lingering for a moment. "Still warm, but not as bad as before. Think you’ll live?"

You laughed softly, swatting his hand away. "Yeah, I think I’ll make it. Thanks to you."

He leaned back against the sofa, stretching his arms above his head before letting them fall to his sides—except one arm didn’t quite make it back to the cushion. Instead, it landed lightly on your back, his fingers brushing against your shoulder. You barely had time to register the touch before he gave a gentle tug, pulling you closer until your side was pressed against his.

"Good," he said, his voice low and teasing. "I’d hate to have to explain to everyone how I let you wither away on my watch."

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t resist as he adjusted the blanket to cover both of you, his arm settling comfortably around your shoulders. His hand rested lightly on your arm, his thumb absently tracing small circles against the fabric of your sleeve. It was such a simple gesture, but it sent a warm ripple through you, one that had nothing to do with the fever.

"You’re such a drama queen," you muttered, though there was no real annoyance in your voice. If anything, you were fighting a smile.

Will chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest where your head now rested. "Maybe," he said, his tone light. "But at least I’m a drama queen who knows how to take care of you."

You didn’t argue with that. Instead, you let yourself relax into his side, the steady rise and fall of his breathing a comforting rhythm beneath your cheek. The TV droned on in the background, but neither of you was really paying attention. For the first time all day, you felt calm. Safe. Maybe being sick wasn’t the worst thing in the world if it meant having him here, his arm around you and his quiet presence filling the room.

Ahhh I do love a classic sick fic, this time its the Reader thats sick! But maybe in the future I'll do one where Will is sick? What do people think?