largewindows

argumentative, antithetical dream girl

[prettysmallwindows]

hey, hi!

✧ lizzie

✧ she/her • 18

✧ requests: open / closed

✧ chats, asks & late night thoughts always welcome

✧ masterlists:

– Jschlatt

– Ted Nivison

– WillNE

please be respectful + enjoy your stay in my little corner of the internet ♡

[prettysmallwindows]

°˖➴ willne masterlist: ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

⟡ all are SFW and x reader

⟡ * = request

coming soon ;)

[prettysmallwindows]

˗ˏˋ ted nivison masterlist: ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

⟡ all are SFW and x reader

⟡ * = request

Stressed barista

The holiday season is a pain, yet a certain someone enters the cafe you work at and makes you forget the chaos for just a second

Wedding guest

You’re bored at a wedding until a deep voice speaks up from behind you 🤭

Blind date

House party

A simple house party, yet when you try to get some peace and quiet somebody disturbs that, leaving you upset - luckily your boyfriend shows up.

[prettysmallwindows]

Dear Tumblr - I’m free! I just finished all of my final exams. Now I can devote 100% of my time to fanfiction, both reading and writing. ☺️

[ur-missing-love-letters]

Some girls are just naturally born with glitter in their veins.

[ghostwrittenbygrace]

୨⎯𝑻𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 ➛ 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑳𝒆𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒚⎯୧

summary: All the times Will has teased you and the one time you tease him back | Will x fem! reader

notes: finally a Will fic!

content: Will being a tease, slightly suggestive at the end but it's mostly fluff

The first time you realise Will might be doing it on purpose is in the stupidest way possible.

It’s a filming day for a group video, chaotic, loud, full of half-shouted jokes, and camera batteries dying every twelve minutes. You’re sitting on the sofa scrolling through shot notes when Will crosses the room, sunglasses pushed into his hair, sleeves shoved up his arms. 

He drops down beside you. Too close.

Not, oh, we accidentally sat near each other close.

Deliberate close. 

His thigh bumps yours. He doesn’t move it away.

You glance up, brows raising.

He smirks.

“Hope you’re taking notes on how great I look today,” he says, stretching his arms behind the sofa in that way that is not normal human posture. His bicep flexes next to your face. 

You scoff, pretending to recheck your notes.

“I’d need a whole new notebook for the ego alone.”

He grins like you walked right into it.

“Better order one now, then, yeah?”

He doesn’t look away when he says it, not even a flicker, just holds your gaze. All smug and unbothered, until you are the first to break eye contact. 

That’s the moment you realise:

He knows exactly what he’s doing. 

The second time is worse. 

You’re both in the kitchen during a break, everyone else outside. You’re leaning over the counter, reading off the filming schedule, hair falling forward, when he slips behind you – no hesitation – hands on your waist as he reaches around for a mug. 

Not a casual brush. 

Smooth, confident, intentional. 

“Excuse me, love,” he murmurs, low enough that you feel it more than hear it.

Your brain short-circuits.

He doesn’t even immediately move away. He just lingers behind you for a heartbeat, like he’s checking what reaction he gets… and based on the tiny smirk when you turn, he’s definitely happy with what he got.

“You could’ve just asked me to hand you the mug,” you mutter.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

He taps the counter twice, like he’s signing off a point he just won, and strolls out, whistling as he goes. 

You stand there a full ten seconds after he’s gone, staring at nothing.

It becomes a consistent thing from then on.

Car rides together mean his hand resting on the back of your seat, thumb brushing your shoulder. 

Filming days mean sitting next to you whenever possible - legs angled toward you, attention pulled like static. 

You complain out loud once, jokingly, that he’s doing it on purpose.

He looks you dead in the eyes and says, “What if I am?”

Like it’s nothing.

Like he enjoys watching you malfunction. 

You don’t admit to yourself how much you enjoy it back. 

୨⎯ <3 ⎯୧

By the time anyone else notices, you’ve already lost the internal war of pretending you don’t like it. 

It starts during a group hangout. Everyone’s at Freezy’s, drinks in hand, music low and chill. You’re sitting cross-legged on the rug, scrolling through your phone, when Will drops down behind you on the sofa – close enough that his knee nudges your back.

He doesn’t say hi.

He just starts absently playing with the ends of your hair.

Like it’s his.

Tobi walks past, glances between you two, and lets out the most judgmental ohhhhh okay face you’ve ever seen. You glare at him, but he just smirks like he’s watching the best slow-burn show of his life. 

Will?

Completely unfazed.

Probably aware.

Definitely entertained.

The next one is somehow worse – because he doesn’t even look at you when he does it. 

You’re standing outside mid-shoot, it’s cold, and you’re hugging yourself for warmth. His jacket isn’t even offered; he just steps up beside you, slips an arm around your shoulders, and keeps talking to Chris like nothing changed.

No “hey, are you cold?”

No “you okay?”

Just:

Arm. Around. You 

You try not to lean into him. You fail miserably within twenty seconds.

Chris clocks it, glances at you, then at Will, then back at you with a smirk that absolutely says oooooh so THAT’S happening. 

Will catches the look, raises one eyebrow like and What about it, and doesn’t move his arm.

You spend the rest of the afternoon pretending your cheeks are red from the cold. 

Then comes the moment that almost breaks him. 

You’re both waiting for an uber after another shoot. Everyone else already gone. It’s quiet, streetlights painting the pavement gold, everything gentle and quiet. 

You laugh at something he says – a soft one, small and real.

He looks at you differently. 

Not smug.

Not teasing.

Warm.

And for a second, he looks like he might say something honest. He shifts slightly towards you-

Your Uber pulls up.

The moment breaks.

And he covers it with a smirk like he didn’t just nearly confess on a pavement at 1 AM.

“Don’t miss me too much,” he says as you climb in.

You roll your eyes.

You don’t say “I already do. 

୨⎯ <3 ⎯୧

By the time the sidemen party rolls around, you are doomed. 

You don’t even know what they’re celebrating anymore. Some subscriber milestone, brand deal, who knows, because the second you see Will walk in, shirt slightly undone, sleeves rolled up, grin arrogant-

You know this night is going to kill you. 

He finds you within ten minutes.

Not by accident.

Not even remotely.

Leans one hand on the wall next to you; crowd loud behind you, bass rumbling through the floor, soft amber lights catching in his eyes like he knows every cheat code to make you squirm.

“You clean up well,” he says, gaze travelling, not subtly, from your shoes up to your mouth.

“You’re unbearable,” you shoot back, mostly to keep the blush from showing on your face.

“Yeah?” He leans in a fraction closer.

“And yet here you are, still choosing to stand next to me.”

You hate that he’s right.

You hate more that you’re smiling. 

At some point, Talia walks by and mutters to Lux, “They just need to fuck each other at this point,” and you both pretend not to hear. 

You need a drink.

Or several.

Because somewhere between the first teasing comment and the way he brushes against your lower back when guiding you through the crowd, you realise you may combust before midnight. 

And Will?

He’s in his absolute element. 

Smug. Lounging with confidence like he was born in it. 

Hands always finding you – steering, steadying, touching.

He’s been winning this game for weeks. 

And he has no idea you’re about to change the rules. 

୨⎯ <3 ⎯୧

A few more drinks, more teasing, more of him leaning down to talk close to your ear because “too loud in here, love.”

Hand on your waist again.

Thumb brushing back and forth like he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. 

Except he does. 

Of course he does. 

Half the room knows he’s shameless.

What he doesn’t know is that you’ve hit your limit of being the flustered one. 

When you and a few others drift toward a corner booth, he naturally takes a seat at the end, long legs stretched, looking like he owns the place. You slide in beside him-

-but then the booth fills up more quickly than expected: Tobi, Lux, Faith, Ethan – everyone shuffled around, and by the time everyone’s settled, there’s one solution if you want to stay seated:

his lap

He glances up at you, slow, lazy, confident,

“You can sit here if you want,” he says, like he hasn’t been mentally devouring you with his eyes all night. 

He thinks you’ll hesitate.

Or blush.

Or derail. 

You don’t

You swing a leg over and sit down – fully committed, easy, casual, like you’ve done it a hundred times. 

Will stops breathing. 

You feel his chest going still under you, one blink too slow, his hand instinctively catching your waist like he needs to steady himself, not you.

You don’t look at him at first.

You just fix your dress, place your hands neatly on the table, and keep chatting with Tobi across the table. 

Unbothered.

Untouched.

Checkmate. 

It takes him a solid five seconds before he gets his composure back – five seconds where everyone at the booth is silently enjoying the fact that Will Lenney has finally been flustered into silence. 

Then you hear him exhale quietly, and a soft laugh under his breath. 

His hand settles again on your waist.

Not tentative now. Secure, anchored. 

He leans in, voice low enough that only you hear:

“Alright… so that’s how we’re playing tonight.”

You don’t look at him. That’s part of the victory.

 “Something wrong?”

“Oh, not at all,” he murmurs, recovering too well for your sanity, “just wasn’t expecting you to finally admit you like sitting on me this much.”

Your pulse spikes.

The man is evil. 

You tilt your head slightly, finally meeting his eyes. Deliberately unimpressed. 

“Maybe I just needed a seat.”

His mouth curves, his slow, lethal confidence flooding back.

“Feel free to keep it,” he says, thumb pressing lightly into your hip, “I’m not planning on letting you get up anyway.”

The worst part?

You don’t want to.

The conversation with the group carries on around you, but the real conversation is silent. Pulsing through the flex of his hand on your waist, your thigh resting against his, the warmth of him everywhere. 

Eventually, the others trail off towards the bar, leaving just the two of you in the booth. The music is loud, but not loud enough to drown the shift in the air. 

He tilts his head, studying you with that lazy half-smile. The one he uses right before a punchline. 

“See,” he says quietly, “all this time you thought I was the one being a tease.”

You raise a brow.

“Pretty sure you were.”

His eyes darken. Warm but not heavy, with more honesty than he’s ever allowed to surface on purpose. 

“Nah,” he says softly, fingers brushing your waist again.

“I was just waiting for you to notice.”

It’s not a confession

But it's not not one. 

You don’t look away this time 

A tiny smile pulls at your lips as you lean forward, close enough that your nose nearly brushes his. 

“Consider me noticed then.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh, real and unguarded, before his forehead gently meets yours.

For once, he’s the flustered one, not you. 

And he loves it. 

Because this time, finally, he isn’t the only one accepting the pull you have towards each other.

You are too. 

[wxllne]

gave you I gave you I. william lenney

willne x fem! reader. ex-situationship au. angst. 2.9k. warnings: alcohol consumption.

a/n: very distantly inspired by normal people! oh also. first ukyt fic BE NICE. also thank you @csenke for beta reading as always 🤍 i know u dont give a f abt this man so it means a lot

His fingers automatically scroll through his messages app, acting on muscle memory as the pad of his pointer lands on the person he needs the most right now. His judgement is a bit hazy and his eye-sight is a bit blurry, an additional effect of the spinning head caused by the amount of shots and pints he’s consumed in the pub behind him, and the idea of his soft, warm bed is the only thing he can think about right now.

Will vaguely remembers Callum telling him he is the driver tonight– something about needing to leave early tomorrow morning, the exact reason, he wasn’t really arsed to engrave into his memory– and so he sends him a short text (that he hopes doesn’t have as many typos in it due to his alcohol levels). He has to close one eye and manually focus the other one to even see anything on his screen– and that’s when he really realizes just how wasted he managed to get. He presses the little “send” symbol in the corner of his screen, waiting for a reply.

The text read a simple “can you get me home”. Will is aware asking him face-to-face would be the best, but the air inside of the pub was too thick for him to breathe in without wanting to throw all his insides up on the bar, right there in front of everyone, and he didn’t see his friend in the initial 3-minute search he managed to organize for him in his mind before he gave up, so texting him was the best next option he had.

Taking in the chilly air, glad the screaming of his friend group and the strong smell of alcohol is now all behind him, locked in the pub and only as a painful echo of the night, he decides the curb is the best place to rest his limbs before somebody comes to him for rescue. Before he has a chance to even crouch, though, his phone starts buzzing in his hand, surprising him. Without even checking who it is, he accepts the call and presses the phone to his ear, awaiting the (slightly annoying, as he would call it in his drunken state) voice of one of the Fellas.

“Will?”

His heart stops. The single syllable of his name coming out of your mouth is enough to have countless memories flood into his brain and then make a chemical, visceral reaction in his chest. Suddenly, he thinks he might throw up after all. Why are you calling him in the middle of the night?

“Y-yeah?” he manages to choke out, voice a little higher than usual, unsure if he managed to make himself sound normal.

“Are you okay?”

Now, that’s a loaded question, Will thinks. Anyone who saw him get drunk like a fool tonight might disagree– hell, he even heard the whispers concerned about his mental well-being circulating in his friend group, he did notice the worried glances some of them threw his way at every self-depricating joke– but to you, he must appear completely fine. Wonderful, even.

“Yeah,” he says, as if it’s the only word he knows.

“Well, I was just asking, ‘cause of the text,” he hears you mumble, your voice still having a hint of uncertainty behind it, a hint of tiptoeing around something neither of you want to name or talk about.

“What text?” he asks, a little dumbly.

“You just said to get you home…?”

Oh.

Will wants to both face palm and run under the closest car all at once. Of course you’re not calling him because you want to talk to him– or just because, like his yearning heart selfishly, delusionally thought. That could perhaps be the stupidest thought Will has ever conjured– because realistically, of course you’d want nothing to do with him.

“Oh, that was-” he clears his throat, nervously scratching the back of his neck, “that was a mistake. I meant to send that message to Cal…”

There’s silence on the other side of the line, stretching out anxiously to the point where he thinks you might just end the call and leave him standing there with a growing hole in his chest. Before he has a chance to check his phone to see if the connection is still on, though, he hears your voice again, stopping him in his tracks.

“Are you drunk, Will?” the question doesn’t sound at all mad, or disappointed– to which he is kind of glad. Your voice is coated with something completely else, though, something that is a little too close to worry for Will to not react to with irritation. Because he’s fine. He’s unaffected.

“A little, yeah,” he admits.

This is where the call ends, isn’t it? You got the misunderstanding sorted out, so there’s no other reason for you to talk now. Especially after the month of silence– not that Will’s counting, of course.

He’s wrong, though. And he’s not sure if he should be glad about it.

Because you keep talking to him, and word by word, he feels something inside of him breaking– something he tried to build the whole month you spent apart, even though it was infunctional and everyone saw through the facade. Every single word you say to him is like a step back from his progress, unravelling him and kicking down the bricks he built around himself– quite ironic to the reason why you two ended up in this position in the first place.

Because his walls were always the problem, weren’t they?

“Another Fellas’ party?” you hum, chuckling. You heard all about them– hell, even attended some with Will in the months you spent together, side by side.

“You know it,” he nods, an airy laugh coming out of his mouth.

“And how have you ended up the drunkest?”

“That’s a wild accusation, love,” the pet name slips out between his lips before he has a chance to stop it, regret immediately sucker-punching him in the gut, “Chip and Arthur are present, after all.”

“I bet they’re not the ones accidentally texting another person, though,” you tease, making Will feel a bit lighter– but only for a minute, before he realizes he scrolled down to your name in his texts on pure instinct, as if it was habitual. As if his unconsciousness wanted to talk to you after all, and he just never had the balls to do it after you ended things with each other.

“Well, I’m not the one throwing up into a pint glass,” he jokes, referencing Chip from just a few minutes ago, a hint of disgust coating his words as he tells you the news (which are not really that new, after all. You’ve seen it happen before).

“Not again…”

“Mhm,” Will hums, getting momentarily lost in the ease of the conversation.

That’s how it always was with you. Strangely easy. He could talk to you about everything and anything– starting from his worries all the way to funny stories from recordings or his trips abroad. Hanging out with you has always been his favorite time of the week. Whether it was spent with you two just launching on the sofa, mindlessly watching some TV show on Netflix, or going to get coffee together and brainstorm some new flavors for Rodd’s. You were both his anchor and his own personal rollercoaster– exciting him, bringing him joy and some sort of eagerness back into his life.

But one day, all that was lost, and Will could no longer just call you up like this and talk your ear off about anything that came to his mind.

Worst thing? He knew it was entirely his fault.

For not getting serious with you– even though in his heart, it was the most serious, most committed he’s been in his life. But it wasn’t enough and you deserved more, and Will could never, ever blame you for leaving.

“I don’t miss that sight, you know,” you chirp, the mental image of you shaking your head in disbelief, like you always do, materializing behind Will’s eyelids.

“Yeah, I know,” he hums, thoughts swirling in undecipherable strings and mixes, words coming out of his mouth before he can even stop them, “but, y’know… if ya wanted to come and hang with the rest, you’d be welcome to.”

“Will–”

“It wouldn’t be fair of me to like, y’know, keep you away from the lads and stuff, so really, I could even fuck off and stay home when you come around and stuff…” he mumbles, slowly walking down the street, his footsteps resonating in the silent night.

You found friends in his group– Will knows that. You could talk about your nerdy interests with Arthur for hours. Will never really had anything intellectual to add, so he just listened, but it was enough for him to know you fit in with his circle. You and George always had your own funny banter going on and you always tried to keep up with his and Harry’s drinking, which resulted in Will taking you home more often than not when you inevitably failed. You fit right in, like a missing puzzle piece, and Will feels bad for being the reason you’re missed.

“It’s okay, Will,” you say, making him stop in his tracks. “They’re your friends, after all,” you reply, and it feels like a slap to his face.

“They’re your friends too,” Will argues, furrowing his brows in confusion. “Everyone keeps asking about you, y’know.”

“Well, that’s nice,” you say, a hint of something unreadable behind your words. “And what do you tell them?”

Will thinks back to all the conversations he’s had for the last month. He thinks back to the night you told him you two should end ‘whatever this is’ (because he was always too scared to put any label on it), to the moment you left his flat and he manically paced around the living room before he went out on a run. He thinks back to the moment he came back, late at night, and called James, holding back tears. He thinks back to the moment he first came to the pub without you, and Chris and George teased him about getting dumped– to which he didn’t offer a snarky remark, showing too much of his true emotion and reality of the claims, making both of them shut up and avoid the topic for the rest of the night. He thinks back to Chip and Arthur asking about you, confused when he had to tell them he hasn’t spoken to you in a while. He thinks back to telling Harry in a moment of weakness, holding on to his pint glass like a lifeline.

It hasn’t been an easy month.

“The truth,” he replies, eyes pressed to the starless sky.

He hears you hum on the other side of the line, the conversation lolling into its inevitable end. It makes Will’s hands shake and breathing hitch, the idea of not hearing your voice again for a while sending a wave of panic into his chest, almost sobering him up.

“Well, it was nice talking to you, Will.”

“Why did we– why didn’t it work out with us?” he asks, the desperate question dragging from his lips like a prayer, surprising even himself. The line goes silent for a moment and he thinks he lost you, thinks you declined the call and just went to sleep– like you should’ve when you received the text message in the first place. And he wouldn’t blame you if you did any of these things– because deep inside, he knows you deserved more.

But he also selfishly thinks it was worth trying one more time. He thinks you two had something you could figure out together, had you had more patience. He thinks he was worthy of the mess.

“You know what, forget it–”

“Ultimately, Will, I think you weren’t willing to let me fully in,” he hears you explain, slowly, like you’re rethinking your words. “I think you weren’t giving me all that I needed. Which is fine, because I know it was hard on you as well, but it just… didn’t feel fair for me to keep waiting for the impossible,” you chuckle, a hint of bitterness behind your words.

And Will would love it if he didn’t know what you meant.

But he did.

You meant the way he claimed you as his in your bed and outside of it, but never truly sticking a label on it. Never truly committing. Every time he thought he was ready to take the next step, there was an annoying voice inside of him telling him that it’s too scary and it’s doomed to fail one way or another, when you realize he’s not worth it– and why would you two even need a label, when all of it was so easy, so close to a relationship anyway? He was never leaving you in this intermediate state because he was letting himself have some sort of back door, some sort of other options in mind.

Will knows you meant the way he could never put you as his priority. Too focused on work, chasing his dreams. Being a perfectionist, getting lost in editing, forgetting to text you back, not able to work around your schedule. You meant the way his mind was always somewhere else, the way he was too lost in his plans one day to remember you were supposed to meet.

He knows he was never around enough to make him worth the wait. Once again, he could never blame you for the decision you made– you protected your heart and peace. Had some self-worth, as Becky once told Will off-handedly, after learning all about the situation from 3 different people.

“I don’t think it was impossible,” he says, “I think I just needed a bit more time,” he says, and even he feels that what he’s saying is pathetic. Because who knows how much more time it would’ve been, had you never opened his eyes to the reality by leaving?

He never knew how much he needed you before you were gone, moving on to better things. He never knew how much he wanted you there before you left, never knew how desperately he’d do anything you’d ask him to, had it meant you’d come back.

Because the truth is, the feelings he had for you were never the problem. Will just wasn’t really good at articulating them. He’s always been bad at loving people back.

There was always a you-shaped hole in his chest that ached at every mention of your name in passing, yearning for your presence. He thought of you the majority of his day, selfishly thinking of a way to fix things– maybe in another universe, maybe if you met at the right time…

“Truthfully, I don’t think I mattered that much,” you laugh, but Will knows it’s faked. It’s the type of laugh you’d force at Isaac’s bad jokes or when you were uncomfortable when someone hit on you in the bar– to which Will always came to your rescue.

And the words sting. It’s like the worst thing he was ever accused of.

How could you think you didn’t matter? He took you out on Valentine’s day. He introduced you to all his friends, happy just how easily you fit in. He texted you every single day and came to pick you up from work regularly. He remembered all the small things– like how you take your coffee and what your favorite The 1975 album was. He had a mental list of all your wishes and worked hard on making every dream on that list– no matter how small or big– completed. Like taking you to the London eye when you moved here, even though he’s been there countless times and doesn’t find London at all that attractive anymore. Or like getting you a ticket to Glastonbury, to which you went together and you cried about on the way home.

You were everything.

“You’re ridiculous,” he shakes his head, bitter, the alcohol speaking for him on the next part. “I loved you, y’know. Still do, I mean, for what it’s worth.”

He dropped the bomb neither of you dared to say in all the months of your undefined relationship, as if to selfishly prove you wrong about him. He said the words both of you tiptoed around for ages, thinking that maybe now that he said them out loud, they would stop haunting him late at night, not giving him sleep.

You’re silent on the other side of the line. Of course you are, Will thinks.

He doesn’t expect to hear you say them back. He didn’t expect to say them himself, surprised at how easy it was to confess them.

“You’re drunk, Will,” you say instead, calm and composed.

“That doesn’t change anything, Y/N. I-”

Before either of you have a chance to finish the conversation, the door to the pub opens behind him and a loud voice startles him away from the quiet moment of sincerity with you.

“Here you are!” Callum hollers, waving at Will. “I was looking for you everywhere, mate!”

Will nods in acknowledgement, not really wanting to end the conversation with you. You take it upon yourself to do so anyway, though.

“You should go, Will.”

It seems that it’s now your turn to build walls around your heart.

“Can I… can I talk to you later?” he asks, hopeful.

“Come on, Will, we’re leaving!” the rest of the group materializes in front of the pub, waving him down.

You ignore his question.

“Get home safe, Will,” you reply, before the line goes silent.

[el1enaa]

[starrywyatt]

willne smau?

basically where the fans try to figure out if will and reader are dating through the little clues they give through their posts/vids etc!

i got a bit carried away writing this lol, but i hope you like it!!

✮⋆˙ punching - will lenney [smau]

singer! y/n x willne (will lenney)

liked by eleanorneale, willne, jamesmarriotyt and 432,304 others

yourusername working late...

fan1 PLEASEEE say this means new music

--> yourusername 🤫

eleanorneale hehehe i wonder who you're writing song about

--> yourusername you!!!!

fan2 since when did all the uk youtube lot know y/n???

--> fan3 idk but im sooo here for it

liked by yourusername, jamesmarriottyt, georgeclarkeey and 231,032 others

willne oh my god

yourusername congrats on making the only coffee i'll drink

--> fan 1 Y/N DRINKS RODDS???

--> fan 2 Y/N what the hell are you doing here??

jamesmarriottyt should've called it thursday

--> willne fuck off

liked by yourusername, willne and 41,238 others

cosmopolitan singer-songwriter y/n joins us as this month's cover star as she discusses finding love, new music and why she thought she'd never love again. read the issue at the link in our bio!

yourusername thank you so much for having me !!!

willne oh my fucking god (deleted)

fan 1 DID ANYONE ELSE SEE WILL'S COMMENT?!?!

--> fan 2 WTF NO?? IT'S GONE BUT HE LIKED IT

fan 3 needed that new music like yesterday

liked by 23,543 others

y/n.hq an extract of y/n's recent interview with cosmopolitan, seems our girl has found love!

fan 1 OH MY GOD IM SO HAPPY FOR HER

fan 2 ofc she releases happy music after i go through a breakup

fan 3 guys who do we think it is...

--> fan 4 guys i'm calling it now it's james marriott, all his friends have been active on her posts

--> fan 5 streets are saying will commented on her cosmo cover then deleted it...

liked by willne, yourusername, bambinobecky and 320,215 others

jamesmarriottyt Something's wrong song and video out now.

willne never hearing you out again

--> yourusername starting the will go blonde petiton

--> fan 1 i sign

--> fan 2 this is such gf behaviour

yourusername obsessed with this song, congrats!!

--> yourusername pretty funny video too

--> jamesmarriottyt thank you!!

--> fan 3 guys what is going on

liked by 23,556 others

willneupdates will confirms he's no longer single on the newest episode of inside the industry!

fan 1 CRYING IN ALDI

fan 2 for someone who hates podcasts, he's sure on a lot of them

fan 3 is it a coincidence that y/n also just confirmed she's not single??

--> fan 4 i'm starting to think not...

liked by willne, jamesmarriottyt, max_balegde and 1,446,643 others

yourusername SURPRISE!! 'bed chem' dropping tomorrow at midnight and it's a steamy one 💋

max_baledge SHUT UP

--> yourusername hehehe

willne hope my mam doesn't hear this one

fan 1 oh our girl is finally getting good sex

jamesmarriottyt not sure i'll be able to listen to this one

--> yourusername oops

fan 3 her replying to every comment but will's...

liked by yourusername, behzingagram and 332,567 others

willne 👍🏻

yourusername who the flowers for? 😐 (deleted)

fan 1 his gf must be so lucky

--> fan 2 fr have you heard bed chem

fan 3 them flowers are so pretty wtf

yourusername can you buy me a labubu?

yourusername added to their story!

liked by willne, eleanorneale, chrismd and 1,934,098 others

yourusername happyhappyhappy

eleanorneale you're cheating on me???

--> yourusername it's literally your hand??

willne ❤️

--> fan 1 HELLO????

--> fan 2 IS THIS A SOFT LAUNCH

--> fan 3 THIS HAS TO MEAN SOMETHING

liked by yourusername and 34,053 others

y/n.hq willne and james marriott were singing 'bed chem' in their latest video together!

fan 1 omg

fan 2 stop i died when will said 'probably shouldn't sing that one' he knows what he's doinggggg

fan 3 can they just make out atp

--> fan 4 will and jim or will and y/n?

--> fan 3 both

liked by yourusername and 88,430 others

willneupdates fans spotted y/n and will at james' concert last night!!👀

yourusername wait these are cute

fan 1 someone get me a defibrillator I CAN'T BREATHE

fan 2 OMFG LIKE WE KNEW IT BUT LIKE EWHAT

fan 3 now this is a hard launch

liked by yourusername, jamesmarriottyt, eleanorneale and 1,432,460 others

willne yes, i know i'm punching massively

georgeclarkeey you're punching mate

yourusername definitely punching

eleanorneale she's way out of your league

--> willne you can have her back if you want

fan 1 OMFGGGG FINALLY

liked by willne, jamesmarriott, livvydimartino and 1,410,433 others

yourusername happy birthday to the most perfect boy i ever did meet. you have completely changed the way i view life and i can not imagine living another day without you, luckiest girl alive to be loved by you <3

willne yes, i would still love you if you were a worm

--> yourusername good. i will ask again tomorrow just in case something changes

willne luckiest boy to have you ❤️

livvydimartino obssesed with you guys🥲

--> yourusername we love youuuu

fan 1 how can i be normal about this

fan 2 may this kind of love come and slap me in the face

[memloz]

heyyy, i was wondering if i could request a schlatt fic kinda angsty fluffy mutual pining “I’m waiting for someone who will make me say no to you” vibes (im literally stuck on this in my head from listening to soccer practice by lizzy mcalpine on repeat 😭)

ALWAYS YOU // schlatt x reader

a/n: so sorry if this seems rushed :((

--------------------

You and Schlatt never really had a clean start.

No first date. No confession. No moment where one of you said I like you and the other said me too.

It was just.... lingering.

Him leaning too close over your shoulder when you were on your phone. You showing up to his streams unannounced with food. Late night drives that had no destination. Inside jokes that sounded like flirting but weren’t labeled as anything.

Situationship.

That’s what your friends called it.

Schlatt called it “whatever this is,” said with a shrug and a smirk like it didn’t matter.

It did.

------

The first time you almost kissed, it was raining.

You were sitting in his car outside your apartment, both of you soaked from running through the parking lot. The windows were fogged, his playlist was low, and you were laughing at nothing.

He looked at you.

Not the usual quick glance... a full, quiet stare.

Your laugh faded. Your heart slammed so loud you swore he could hear it.

He leaned in just a little.

Then stopped.

“Yeah,” he muttered, leaning back, running a hand through his hair. “We shouldn’t.”

You swallowed. “Right.”

Neither of you explained why.

-----

You dated someone else first.

A guy your friends swore was “safe.” Sweet, consistent, emotionally available.

You told Schlatt about him casually, like it didn’t matter.

He nodded. “Good. He better treat you right.”

But he stopped texting as much after that.

Stopped calling at 2 a.m. Stopped showing up unannounced.

You missed him so badly it made your chest ache.

And when that relationship ended months later quietly, because you never felt that thing. Schlatt was the first person you told.

“Yeah,” he said softly over the phone. “Figured it wouldn’t stick.”

You frowned. “Wow. Harsh.” You fake laughed softly into the phone as you sat back on your couch.

“Not harsh.” A pause. Then, quieter, “Just... you always come back.”

------

Then he dated someone. And that one hurt.

She was pretty. Confident. Funny in a way that fit him perfectly. You saw pictures of them together online.. her leaning into him, his arm around her waist like it belonged there.

You told yourself you were fine. You weren’t. You still answered when he texted. Still let him rant. Still sent him dumb memes at midnight.

And sometimes, when he laughed the way he only laughed with you, you wondered if she noticed the difference.

They lasted longer than your relationships ever did.

Almost a year.

And when it ended, he didn’t talk about it much. Just showed up at your place with takeout and that tired look in his eyes.

You sat on the floor, eating straight from the containers.

“You okay?” you asked, poking around in your chinese food.

“Yeah.” Lie.

You nudged his shoulder. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

He huffed, setting down his container. “I know.”

A long silence. Then, softer, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud:

“Didn’t feel right.”

Your stomach twisted. “What didn’t?”

He looked at you, really looked.

“…none of it.”

------

You tried again after that. Both of you.

Other people. Other almost relationships. Other attempts at being normal.

But it always circled back. Late night calls. Random check-ins. Shared glances across crowded rooms.

Like a string tied between you that never snapped, no matter how far you walked.

The fight happened after one of those cycles. You were sitting on his couch, tension thick, both of you exhausted from pretending you didn’t orbit each other.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you blurted.

“Doing what?”

“This.” You gestured between you. “Almost. Not quite. Halfway.”

He rubbed his face. “You think I don’t know that?”

“Then why won’t you just-” You cut yourself off. Say it. Ask him. He stared at you, waiting.

“…why won’t you just let me go?” you finished instead. Asking softly as you drew back into yourself

His jaw tightened.

“You want me to?” he asked, folding his arms against his chest and looked at you with a false sense of dominance in this conversation.

No. God, no.

But you forced yourself to nod. He leaned back, eyes searching your face like he was trying to memorize it.

“...I’m waiting,” he said slowly, “for someone who will make me say no to you.”

The words hit like a punch. Your throat burned. “And?”

“And no one has.”

Silence.

Your voice came out small. “That’s not fair.”

“I know.” He replied just as quiet

“Then stop coming back.” You argued back at him.

His laugh was quiet, almost broken. “You first.”

------

Time passed. Not weeks. Months. You both actually stayed away this time. No late night calls. No “just checking in” texts.

It felt like withdrawal.

You dated again... someone kind, patient, steady. He liked you a lot. You tried to like him the same way.

But every laugh sounded wrong. Every touch felt slightly off. Every moment felt like you were comparing it to something you weren’t supposed to.

And then, one night, your current boyfriend had sat you down after a week of things being off and asked gently, “Is there someone else?”

You hesitated.

That was answer enough.

------

You saw Schlatt again at a mutual friend’s party. Crowded, loud, warm lights and music vibrating through the walls. He was across the room.

And the second your eyes met, everything else went quiet. He looked older somehow. Softer. Like time had worn down his edges.

You crossed the room before you could think better of it.

“Hey,” you said, not knowing what to open with.

“Hey.” Neither of you smiled at first. Then you both did at the same time, and it felt like muscle memory.

You talked. Casual things. Dumb things. Safe things. But the air between you was electric. Finally, you stepped outside for some quiet.

Cold air. Night sky. Distant laughter from inside. You leaned against the railing. “So… anyone make you say no yet?”

He huffed a soft laugh. “No.” shaking his head as he took a sip of whatever was in his cup.

You nodded, staring at your hands. “Yeah. Same.”

A beat. Then he said your name. You looked up and he was already a touch closer than he was before.

“I’m tired,” he admitted. “Tired of pretending this isn’t... this.”

Your heart raced. “Schlatt-”

“I know we’re a mess,” he continued. “I know the timing’s always wrong, and we keep screwing it up, and I don’t have some perfect speech-”

You grabbed his jacket, pulling him closer without thinking and wrapping your arms around him. He froze.

“…you always come back,” he said quietly.

“So do you.”

A long moment. Just breathing. Just closeness.

“Maybe we were always going to end up here,” you whispered. His forehead rested against yours.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Always you.”

And this time when he leaned in but this time, he didn’t stop. The kiss wasn’t rushed. Wasn’t desperate. It was steady. Certain. Like something finally clicking into place after years of almosts.

When you pulled back, both of you were smiling, not nervous, not unsure.

“So,” you said, voice shaky, “what are we now?”

He snorted softly. “I think we passed situationship territory about three emotional breakdowns ago.”

You laughed, swatting his arm.

He caught your hand, lacing his fingers with yours natural and easy, like it had always belonged there.

“..we try,” he said. “For real this time.”

You squeezed his hand. “For real.”

Just you. Just him. Exactly where you’d both always been headed.

[cokeprincesa]

[szaywian]

2026 more like 2020

I'M BACK IN THE FUCKING BUILDING AGAIN

[riacain]

i wonder how long it would take for anyone to notice if i just… stopped talking

[ju6iter]

[lucentgirl]

why do i feel so solitary

[ang3lnumber222]

˚｡ʚ𓊆୨୧𓊇ɞ｡˚

[tswiftupdatess]

Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce at the iHeartRadio Music Awards. (March 26, 2026 | via Getty)