I’m good! I’ve been away for a while - a lot has happened. I’ve moved, gotten a new job, whole new group of friends, have really kind of had a lifestyle adjustment really (but in a good way) 😌
For those of you who are still here, I’m aware that the Pushing It Down and Praying series has been on hold for a while. At this point I haven’t really been devoting any time to consuming much UKYT content, however I’d like to tidy it up and have a complete series for those who have been following along throughout.
omg hi sorry I’m here again because Raye has another new song and it was in the f1 movie and it also slaps so fuckin hard !!!! I’m sorry I just need to share the joy and magic of my queen! Grandma Calls The Boy Bad News 👏🏻👏🏻
Hi girl!!!!!
I listened to the first Raye song you suggested and LOVED 😮💨 it’s sitting in my drafts waiting for some inspo to hit
Send me all the recs! I will get to them eventually I promise 😭🩵
first and foremost DO NOT READ IT! it contains private information shared by members of the network. All the information shared was between friends and people who have trust and love for each other.
“lana” claimed we kicked her before asking about the pictures. let me give you some context for that one. she said they were posted on her pinterest. mind you, this person said her name was lana. the pictures one of our members stumbled upon on pinterest were posted by a girl named anna and linked to her instagram. which stated she was 20. and i’m sorry - but why would you claim to be 18, born in 2007 but then have your instagram say you’re 20? not to mention she told us she is from australia and shared a picture of her in swim wear on the beach, saying she went to the beach when it’s currently winter in australia.
we kicked her because we suspected catfishing. she had every chance to defend herself - i never blocked her on discord. and i hadn’t blocked her on here up until a few days after the kick.
now what’s really concerning - the private stories she shared had been posted after we had kicked her. which means someone either decided to share them with her OR she has a second account she never disclosed and joined through that. which, i think we can all agree on, is insane.
for that reason, I have kicked everyone from the server for now, adding people back after a throughout discussion with my co-admin.
whatever the fuck is going on, i can and will not stand for it. oh, and the “talking bad about ppl behind their backs?” bffr - we criticised someone for using ai to write their fics - if you don’t see anything wrong with that… that’s a you problem.
i’m very sorry to all of our members for this happening, i am truly dumbfounded and horrified. well message you all once we’ve sorted out what to do.
Being in the southern hemisphere, I’m asleep when a lot of these conversations are happening and I genuinely felt my heart drop when I saw Lana’s post come across my feed. I’ve come to know a lot of these writers personally. Checking in on them at the end of my day has become routine. To see so many of their personal, devastating, traumatic experiences shared publicly is awful. It feels vindictive.
We forget that, behind our usernames, there are real people practicing real bravery in sharing their experiences, sharing their art and their personalities online. The beautiful part about online fandoms such as this one is the community, the shared love for content, and the solidarity in suffering. Communities like this are a real reminder that while we all have our own scars and we’re each experiencing hardships, we’re not alone in it.
That said, whether you are a fellow reader or writer, there will always be space for you here. Space on this blog, space in this community.
The most important lesson I’ve learned having this blog is that people will long forget what I’ve said, what I’ve achieved, they will only remember how I’ve made them feel.
Summary: The reader has her eye set on Will. He's kind, perceptive, patient, encouraging, and was always affectionate. So why did it sound like she was describing James?
Warnings: None.
Notes: This wasn't requested, it was inspired by salsa night and just spiralled into this. I think I made Will the bad guy in this. The reader has rose-tinted glasses on to the max. Very much a supportive best friend that loves you trope, or a second lead gets the girl.
Amber string lights glow low, strung haphazardly between metal awnings that shifts in the evening breeze. London sprawls out beyond the railing in every direction, glittering windows, blinking cranes, a living city that hums under the soft smear of twilight. The scent of grilled meat, charcoal, and spilt Prosecco hangs in the air, mingling with the low hum of music from a speaker perched on a folding table.
Condensation beads cold against your palms as you cradle the gin and tonic. Leaning into the rough edge of the planter, your body angles toward the sprawling cityscape. But your eyes betray you.
Flickering sideways, drawn again and again.
To Will.
He’s leaning against the railing with one elbow, half-silhouetted against the soft glow of the city. His sleeves are rolled to his forearms, hair a little messier than usual, sun catching in the lighter strands like a halo. There’s a group gathered around him—a girl and two guys—and the girl is hanging on every word he says. He laughs at something, the sound warm and easy, and the yearning in your chest sharpens.
He looks good. Too good. Relaxed in that infuriating way that makes your stomach turn with something between longing and regret.
You take a slow sip of your drink, trying not to stare, not to feel how badly you want to be where he is.
The glass rim meets your lips, slow and deliberate. Gin washes cool over your tongue, bitter juniper and bright citrus flooding your senses. You hold it there. Breathe. Don't look. Ice clinks as you swallow, the chill trailing down your throat like an anchor trying to steady you. Against the railing, Will's laugh curls through the air again. Your knuckles whiten on the glass.
Only then, as the glass rests heavy in your hand again—
Clink.
James's soda taps lightly against yours. He leans in, warmth bleeding through his jacket sleeve where it brushes your arm. "You can look away, you know." His voice cut through the low thrum of the city, low and surprisingly tender. "He won't vanish if you blink."
You jump. Your drink nearly sloshes over the rim. He grins, casual in a worn leather jacket and jeans, drink in hand, posture loose like he’s been standing there forever.
“Jesus,” you mutter, heart racing.
“Uh, it’s James, actually.” His eyebrow arched, a ghost of amusement playing on his lips. “Breathe.”
You exhale and shake your head, your voice quieter this time. “You know, I told you I liked him because I thought you wouldn’t make a big deal out of it.” You glance sideways at him. “Not because I wanted running commentary.”
James stills, the easy teasing in his grin dissolving like sugar in warm water. It softens, not just fading but transforming. The sharp curve of his mouth gentling into something sincere. The playful light in his eyes dims, replaced by a quiet warmth that crinkles the corners just slightly. He blinks, a slow, deliberate flutter of surprise, before his gaze settles back on you, earnest and open. “Hey,” he says, his voice lower now, stripped of its earlier edge. “I wasn’t trying to make fun of you.”
The city sprawled below, a tapestry of distant lights and muffled sounds, but it felt miles away. You tore your gaze from his intense focus, finding refuge in the familiar skyline. A cool night breeze lifted a strand of hair against your cheek. You shrugged, the movement feeling stiff. “I know.” The words were quiet, almost lost in the low hum of the city. You paused, shifting your grip on the cool glass in your hand. Condensation slicked your palm, mirroring the sudden vulnerability tightening your chest. “It just—” You swallowed, searching for the right words that wouldn’t expose too much yet couldn’t hide the raw edge. “It took a lot to admit it out loud. Even to you.”
Silence stretches, thick and expectant. You can feel the weight of his attention, a physical warmth pressing against your profile. The seconds tick by, measured only by the frantic beat of your own heart and the distant wail of a siren.
You risk a glance sideways.
He’s not looking at the skyline any more. His gaze is on you. Steady, thoughtful, like he’s studying the outline of your cheek, the place where your expression shifted. Like he’s seeing something you’re not sure that you’re meant to show.
There’s a softness there you can’t quite name, a flicker of something too intimate, too quiet. You shift, suddenly self-conscious under the intensity of it.
Why is he looking at you like that?
He blinks, as if shaking something off, and his voice is gentler when it comes, “Okay.” He let the word hang for a breath. “I wasn’t trying to make fun of you.” His voice was a low, understanding one, laced with a tenderness that made your breath catch.
You nodded, a jerky little movement, your throat tight. Relief warred with a strange disappointment. You focused on tracing a bead of moisture down the side of your glass.
“But,” he added, his voice still soft but gaining a gentle, knowing certainty. You felt the slight shift in his weight beside you before his shoulder bumped against yours. A deliberate, grounding nudge. It wasn't playful. It was comforting. He leaned in fractionally, his breath warm near your ear. “You’ve got to admit,” he continued, the ghost of his earlier amusement now tempered with unmistakable fondness, “it’s kind of obvious.”
Obvious. The word still echoed, a dull ache beneath your ribs. But the warmth of his shoulder against yours, the low rumble of his voice so close, the absurdity of it all. A small, breathless laugh escaped you, more a release of tension than genuine mirth. “Yeah.” You stared at the distorted city lights through your glass. “Apparently.”
Behind you, Will laughed again, louder this time, caught up in some joke with someone else. Your eyes flicked toward the sound instinctively, drawn like a magnet. James caught the movement instantly. The comforting pressure of his shoulder vanished as he subtly straightened.
He groaned, a low, heartfelt sound, dragging a hand down his face. The earnest softness from moments ago was replaced by a wry, almost pained expression. “Right. Okay. This?” He gestured vaguely between you and the distant sound of Will’s laughter. “This is physically painful to watch.”
You tried to muster a joke, to deflect, to slip back into the easy banter that usually defined you two. But the weight was back, settling heavy and cold in your chest where the brief spark of laughter had been. Your lips parted, but nothing came out except a shaky exhale.
James watched you for a beat, his gaze sharp, reading the struggle in your tightened jaw and the way your fingers whitened around the glass again. His own playful mask had slipped completely now, revealing something quieter, more intent. He sighed, a soft sound almost lost to the city hum. “Go talk to him.”
You shook your head, sharp and immediate. The very thought sent a fresh wave of nervous energy prickling under your skin. “I can’t.”
James tilted his head, studying you. A flicker of something unreadable, determination? Maybe exasperation? Passed through his eyes. “Want me to?”
“What?” You whipped your head around to stare at him fully, genuine shock cutting through the haze of your own anxiety. “James, no.”
“I’m serious,” he said, his face perfectly straight, only the faintest gleam in his eyes betraying him. He nudged your foot with his boot. “I’ll walk over there right now. Tell him you think his new haircut makes him look like a confused golden retriever.”
You snorted into your gin, the sudden, absurd image colliding with your nerves. The liquid burnt slightly as you half-choked, coughing. “James!” you gasped, swiping at your lips, torn between horror and the ridiculous urge to laugh.
He leaned back slightly, the picture of innocent helpfulness. “A very charming, indecisive retriever,” he clarified, his voice dropping conspiratorially, “who would absolutely jump into the Thames for a tennis ball without a second thought.”
You pressed your lips together, trying desperately to smother the laugh bubbling up. It was terrible. It was perfect. It was so James. A breathless, slightly watery sound escaped anyway, slipping through your reluctant smile. “You,” you managed, shaking your head, the heavy feeling in your chest momentarily lightened, “are the absolute worst.”
The ghost of a smirk touched his lips, but his eyes remained watchful, still holding that quiet, knowing intensity beneath the jest. The shared moment of absurdity hung between you, a fragile bridge over the chasm of everything unsaid about Will. And the lingering warmth of his shoulder against yours.
The gastropub buzzed with late-morning chatter and clinking cutlery. Sunlight streamed through wide, industrial windows, casting long stripes across the battered wooden table where the five of you were crammed in tight.
You were wedged between James and Will. James’s shoulder a solid, warm line pressed firmly against your right arm, his jumper sleeve brushing your bare skin with every shift of his body. On your left, Will’s presence was a careful inch away, his posture angled slightly forward as if engrossed in the table’s conversation, avoiding direct contact except below. Under the cluttered shield of the table, his knee found yours again. A deliberate pressure, lingering this time, hidden by plates and the overhanging cloth. He didn’t move it, didn’t look down, and didn’t acknowledge it.
Your heart caught, breath hitching just slightly. This was it. The hidden touch felt like a silent promise, a stolen moment only you two shared. You were going to ask him. About the art exhibit downtown—the one you’d mentioned last week in passing, the one he’d said sounded “cool”. Your fingers tightened slightly around your cold glass. You could do this.
Beside you, James took a lazy sip from his tall glass of Americano, ice cubes clinking softly. As he lowered the glass, his elbow bumped yours companionably on the tabletop. He watched you over the rim, his shoulder still firmly against yours. His eyes flicked toward Will, then back to you, noting the way you straightened slightly.
“Do it,” James murmured, so low only you could hear. His voice was a soft nudge against the background chatter, his gaze steady on yours. There was a flicker in his eyes, something encouraging, maybe a touch resigned. “Ask him. He’ll say yes.” He gave your elbow a tiny, almost imperceptible prod with his own.
Bolstered by his quiet confidence, you drew another breath, turning fractionally towards Will, ready to speak—
“I swear to God,” Chris announced loudly across the table, slamming his fork down, “if they start Maddison on right wing one more time.”
You froze. Instantly, the pressure against your left knee vanished as Will pulled back, turning toward Chris immediately, grinning, already diving into some counterpoint. The conversation surged around you like a wave. Your mouth closed. The secret warmth under the table was gone, leaving only the cool imprint of absence.
James exhaled quietly beside you, setting his frosted glass down with a soft thunk. He didn’t speak right away—just looked at you with a dry, knowing sort of patience. Then, eyebrows raised, he leaned slightly closer.
“Seriously?”
You glared down at your plate, stabbing a half-soggy bit of pancake.
“Abort mission,” he murmured. “Chris is on his third espresso.”
You let out a small, frustrated groan and slumped back in your seat. “I had it. I was gonna say it.”
“I saw. Very valiant.” He paused, pretending to toast your bravery with his now mostly water-diluted Americano. “Don’t worry. The exhibit’s open ‘til eight. Corner him after the pancakes. Before the post-brunch nap window closes.”
You sighed, half-laughing, half-miserable. “God. Yeah, that's true. Thank you.”
James leaned back with a faint smile, nudging your arm gently with his. “You’ll get him. You just need a better game plan next time. We can brainstorm.”
Before you could reply, Will’s phone buzzed against the table. He glanced at the screen and stood, mumbling something about needing to take it. His chair scraped back. You watched him go, disappointment pooling low in your chest. Will’s milky iced coffee sat abandoned, still half-full.
James tilted his head toward you, voice low again. “Next time, kick him under the table. Works on Chris.”
You snorted despite yourself.
Then he hesitated just long enough that you turned slightly toward him with a raised brow.
“Hey,” James said, his gaze locking onto yours. The earlier dryness was gone, replaced by a light, almost careful ease. “If you still want to go,” he paused, just for a beat. “to the exhibit, I mean. I could take you. Y’know. If he flakes.” His thumb traced a bead of condensation on his glass. “Or if the hint just sails over his head.”
You blinked, the offer cutting through your lingering disappointment. It was unexpected, yet strangely grounding.
“Oh.” A genuine smile touched your lips, surprise softening into warmth. The thought of not missing the exhibit, of salvaging the plan with someone who noticed, felt like a lifeline. “Actually, yeah. I’d really like that. If you’re serious.”
James’s eyes held yours for a second longer, something unreadable flickering in their depths' relief? A spark of something warmer? It vanished as quickly as it came. “Cool,” he said, his voice held a hint of quiet satisfaction. “I’ve been meaning to go anyway.”
But as he tipped the bottle, a slow amber stream coating the remaining pancakes, his hand stilled almost imperceptibly. His gaze, meant to follow the syrup, drifted instead. It landed on you.
For a half-second too long, the dry amusement and practised ease vanished from his eyes. Something softer, almost wistful, flickered there. It was the way his focus lingered on the curve of your cheek where the sunlight caught it, or perhaps the uncertain press of your lips. It wasn't deliberate, not a look he chose to give. It felt—pulled, like a breath held just a fraction too deep.
Is there something wrong with my face? The thought flitted through your mind, sharp and defensive. But his expression held no mockery. If anything, it looked open. Almost vulnerable in its stillness. There was a quiet intensity there, a depth you hadn't noticed before beneath the teasing and easy grins. It felt like seeing a crack in polished armour, revealing something unexpectedly raw beneath.
Then, as if catching himself on the edge of an unspoken thought, he blinked. The shutters came down. The softness vanished, replaced by a quick, almost reflexive focus on his nearly empty glass of melting ice and dark coffee. He cleared his throat softly, a barely-there sound lost in the din, and poured the syrup. Pretending as if nothing had happened.
The moment snapped, leaving only confusion. You didn't know what to make of that.
The bass thrummed in your chest like a second heartbeat, vibrating up through your boots and into your ribs. Coloured lights swept over the crowd in soft pulses, strobing off a haze of dry ice and raised hands. Near the back, your friends danced—loose, messy, carefree. Cal had a beer in each hand. Chris was trying to out-spin a girl in platform boots.
You stood anchored against its edge, back half-turned from the chaos, your entire world narrowed to the cool rectangle in your hand. Your thumb moved on autopilot, lighting up the phone screen. Again. And again. And again.
Still nothing.
The harsh glow illuminated the same void: your last message to Will, sent an hour ago, stubbornly marked Delivered. Below it, the carefully crafted invitation you’d spent ten minutes typing two nights ago, nerves twisting your stomach even now as you reread it for the hundredth time. Save me a spot, yeah? His grinning text felt like a cruel joke echoing in the silence.
Distraction was a physical weight. You dragged your gaze from the screen, not seeing the swirling lights or the dancing crowd. Your eyes flickered instead to the digital clock burning in the corner of the display: 10:32 PM. Time stretched, elastic and agonising. Had it only been five minutes since the last check? It felt like an hour. Another sigh, heavy with disappointment, escaped before you could swallow it down. You jabbed the lock button, plunging the screen into darkness. A beat. Two. Your thumb found the button again, unlocking it. Just in case. The screen flared back to life, unchanged. Your head snapped up, scanning the crowded entrance, heart giving a traitorous lurch at every shifting silhouette that might be him.
None were.
Cal materialised beside you, squeezing past towards the bar. He caught your expression, the tight line of your mouth, the restless flicker of your eyes between phone and door, and the slump of your shoulders that screamed defeat louder than the music. “He probably flaked,” he stated, blunt but not unkind. He offered a half-shrug, the gesture laden with weary familiarity. “Again.”
You didn’t trust your voice. A noncommittal hum vibrated in your throat, eyes already dropping back to the treacherous, blank screen. The noise of the pub, the clinking glasses, the shouted conversations, it all receded into a muffled haze, white noise against the roaring silence of Will’s absence in your head. Cal’s hand landed briefly, heavily, on your shoulder in passing sympathy before he vanished back into the blur of sweat, synth, and sound that felt utterly disconnected from the hollow space where your anticipation had been.
You weren’t sure how long you’d been standing there—leaning against the sticky bar edge, waiting, trying desperately not to look like you were waiting. Trying to smother the stupid, stubborn hope that kept flaring every time the door swung open. The band launched into a crashing crescendo, drums pounding like your own frantic heartbeat. A wave of cheers surged through the crowd. Still, no Will.
Then, a hand reached toward yours.
James.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t offer a greeting or a question. His fingers simply closed over yours, warm, grounding, startlingly firm against the cold clamminess of your own grip. He didn’t snatch the phone. Instead, he eased it from your grasp, his thumb brushing the inside of your wrist. He lingered a fraction longer than necessary, long enough for you to feel the warmth seep into your skin. Long enough for your pulse to kick hard against your ribs.
Then, with a soft, decisive click, he locked the screen. The harsh, accusing glow vanished. He slipped the phone deep into your coat pocket, his knuckles briefly grazing your hip through the fabric.
“Stop.” His voice was low, cutting cleanly through the wall of sound. Not harsh, but firm.
You blinked up at him, startled out of the numb cycle of checking and disappointment. “Hey.” The protest was automatic and defensive.
“I mean it.” He held your gaze for a second, his face serious in the bar’s shifting lights, leaving no room for argument. Then, as if flipping a switch, the intensity dissolved. He turned smoothly, leaning his elbows onto the bar beside you, surveying the crowd with an air of casual indifference, as if the charged moment between you had never happened. As if he hadn’t just anchored you back to the present with the warmth of his hand and the weight of a single word.
He flagged the bartender down, never breaking his lazy survey of the stage, and leaned slightly toward the approaching bartender, his voice cutting cleanly through the noise. "Two pints of water please. Lots of ice." The bartender nodded. Then he turned to you and declared, “This band sucks anyway,” raising his voice just enough to be heard over the driving bass line. The words landed flat, devoid of any real conviction. He didn’t even try to make them sound true.
You didn’t respond to his band comment. But a breath escaped you, it felt like the deflation of the last shred of hope you’d been clinging to. It was a good band. They were tearing through the song, raw energy radiating from the stage. James knew it. You knew he knew it. The lie was transparent, a flimsy bandage offered over the raw sting of Will’s absence.
Moments later, two tall glasses of water, beaded with icy sweat, slid across the bar. Condensation pooled instantly around their bases. James picked one up, his fingers momentarily obscuring the wet print it left on the wood. He held it out to you, not looking at you, his gaze still fixed somewhere beyond the crowd. No explanation. No ‘thought you might need this’. Just the cool glass pressing into your palm, the ice inside shifting with a hollow, crystalline clink as your fingers closed around it. The chill was a shock against your skin, pulling you fractionally out of the numb fog.
He finally turned his head, nodding toward the writhing mass of the dance floor. Cal was now bent dramatically backwards in Josh’s arms, laughing, James’s nod seemed to frame as an invitation. “Come on,” James said, his voice dropping back to its normal timbre, yet holding an edge of something, coaxing? Resignation? He tilted his head, a faint, almost imperceptible challenge in the angle. “Mope-dancing is still dancing. Arguably more authentic.”
You shook your head, the movement small and final against the pulsing lights. “I’m good,” you murmured, the words barely audible over the music, tasting like ash.
He watched you for a beat longer, his expression unreadable in the shifting gloom. Then, he simply nodded. Once. He didn’t push. Didn’t offer another platitude. He just leaned back against the bar beside you, shoulders almost touching, and took a long, slow sip of his own water, his presence a silent, steady counterpoint to the chaos and your quiet devastation.
Instead, he studied you in the flickering light, his expression unreadable. The music seemed to dull for a second, like it was just you and him in the little orbit carved out between bar stools and neon reflection. His shoulder pressed solidly against yours where you both leaned against the bar, a point of warm, steady contact amidst the shifting chaos. That simple pressure felt grounding, yet somehow intensified the intimacy of his scrutiny.
Then, softly, “You know his pattern, right?” he asked.
You blinked. “What?”
“Will.” James’s voice was low, but not harsh. Just honest. “Hot and cold isn’t romantic. It’s unreliable.”
You looked down into your water, fingers tightening on the glass. Something embarrassed and sharp twisted in your chest. He’d seen too much. The contact of his shoulder against yours suddenly felt like a conduit for that unwanted clarity, amplifying the sting.
“He’s just.” You started but didn’t finish.
James didn’t press. He just nodded a little, like he’d heard it all before. Like he wasn’t surprised.
He watched you for a beat longer, his expression unreadable in the shifting gloom. Then, he simply nodded. Once. He didn’t push. Didn’t offer another platitude. He didn't need to move, the quiet pressure of his shoulder against yours remained, a constant anchor. He just leaned back a fraction, settling more fully against the bar, the line of contact firm and unwavering, and took a long, slow sip of his own water. His presence was solid, a silent declaration that he was there, occupying the space beside you without demanding anything in return.
The moment passed with the next beat drop. Someone spilt beer behind you. A girl shrieked with laughter.
And then your phone buzzed. You fished it out of your pocket with a quick, reflexive flick—a little too fast. A single message glowed on the screen.
Will (10:57 PM): Work emergency. Sorry.
James looked down at the screen from where he stood beside you, his shoulder still firmly against yours. His lip curled faintly. “Translation?” he said, sipping his water. “I got distracted.”
You didn’t answer.
You just stared at the screen. The solid, unchanging pressure of James beside you, a stark contrast to the flimsy excuse glowing on the glass, made the slow realisation crash in harder, sharper. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the night you thought it would be. But a quieter, more insistent question clawed its way up through the disappointment.
Why?
Why did that familiar pang of hurt still twist in your chest?
Why did a tiny, stupid part of you still want to believe him, still want to scramble for an excuse for him?
He had a pattern, just as James said. Hot promises, cold exits. Cancelled plans. Last-minute ‘emergencies’. The way his enthusiasm could evaporate between texts.
You knew this dance.
You knew the steps led nowhere good.
So why did you keep stepping onto the floor? Why did his name on the screen still trigger that gut-deep reflex of hope, even now, standing grounded by James's unwavering solidity? It felt irrational, embarrassing, like a stubborn weed you couldn't quite pull out.
You turn to James. He didn’t move. He didn’t press. He just stayed beside you, quiet and steady, his shoulder a silent testament to a different kind of presence.
Right here, it seemed to say.
The ride was quiet, save for the soft shush of tyres slicing through wet pavement and the low murmur of the radio. Raindrops crawled across the window beside you in meandering paths, catching the fractured glow of passing streetlights, smearing the world into watery streaks. You leaned your forehead against the cool glass, buzzing on cheap cider and the ghost of movie popcorn salt, your limbs heavy and loose, your emotions a raw nerve exposed by the dark and the hum of the engine.
James sat beside you in the backseat’s narrow space, silent. No teasing. No running commentary. Just the dense, steady presence of him the damp chill radiating from his hoodie’s shoulders, the solid warmth of his knee angled deliberately close to yours, a silent bridge in the confined gloom.
Your eyes tracked a fat droplet as it slid, gathered speed, and vanished into the weather stripping at the bottom of the window. Then another. Then another, each path a lonely journey.
A sigh escaped you, soft as the rain’s whisper against the glass, soaked in exhaustion and something perilously close to heartbreak. “Why is it so easy for him to be everyone’s golden boy? Everyone’s effortless friend, but this?” The word this hung heavy in the air.
You closed your eyes, pressing your temple harder against the cool glass, trying to hold the fractured pieces of yourself together against the tide rising in your chest. The question clawed its way up your throat, raw and unbidden, "Is there something wrong with me?" Your voice cracked, barely audible over the tire hiss and the rain, the words hanging fragile and exposed in the humid dark. "That he can't. That he won't." You couldn't finish, the rest dissolving into the rhythmic thump of the wipers.
The car slowed at a red light. Rain ticked softly on the roof.
James looked over at you sharply, the dim, gold-washed light bleeding through the window catching the sudden intensity in his eyes. His gaze searched your face, not in pity, but with a fierce, almost startling clarity that cut through the gloom. "No." The word was immediate, absolute, a stone dropped into still water. "God, no. It's not you."
He held your gaze, the silence stretching for a heartbeat, heavy with the weight of his conviction. You saw his hand flex slightly where it rested on his knee, knuckles pale. "It's the opposite," he continued, his voice lowering, roughening with an intensity that vibrated in the small space. "You're not the easy surface he swims in. You're." He paused, searching for the right word, his eyes locked on yours. "You're the depth."
Another beat of silence, thick with the implication. Rain blurred the world outside into an impressionist painting of light and shadow. "And depth", he finished, the word dropping like a weighted line, "is the risk he won't take."
Your breath caught in your throat. You were the risk? The solid ground beneath you seemed to shift. Depth. The word echoed, colliding with everything Will avoided, everything James seemed to see so clearly.
But before you could look too closely at that, the car rolled to a stop. Your building loomed outside, the pavement slick and glistening.
James was already moving, opening the door on your side. He offered you his hand, and without thinking, you took it, warm and sure around your cold fingers. He held it a beat longer than necessary.
You blinked up at him, disoriented by the sudden stillness of the world outside the Uber. He just looked at you, his voice low but firm.
“Text me when you’re inside.”
You nodded.
“And,” James said your name. He paused, a hesitation you felt in the space between you, like he wasn’t sure whether to voice the final, necessary blow. “Stop settling for crumbs.” You swallowed, the simple action thick and painful against the lump in your throat.
Before you could respond, he squeezed your hand once and then released you and slid back into the Uber. The door thudded shut. Then the car pulled away, his silhouette swallowed by the downpour.
You stood there for a second, heart aching with too many things, the weight of James’s words, the sting of Will’s absence, and the quiet, impossible thought that maybe someone had been paying attention this whole time.
You didn’t look back.
But as you let yourself inside, fingers fumbling with the key, your phone buzzed softly.
James (07:57 PM): Home safe?
And in that stillness, the decision crystallised, clear as the rain-washed street outside.
You’d ask Will. One last time. Not because you hoped for anything different, but because you needed to hear the silence, the deflection, the no from his own lips.
To finally sever the ghost of what you’d thought you wanted.
Because the truth hummed in your veins now, sharp and undeniable, the warmth still lingering on your palm from James’s grip? That wasn’t friendship. And the way your pulse stuttered at his name lighting up your screen? You weren’t aching for Will any more. You were aching for the man who’d stood in the rain to tell you to stop settling for crumbs.
You typed back to James, fingers steady for the first time all night.
Me (07:57 PM): Home. Thank you.
Alive with rhythm, the venue hums with warm lights, swaying bodies, and the deep thud of bass rattling the floorboards. Tables and booths overflow with laughter and half-finished drinks, while the dance floor pulses with movement—hips twisting, arms tangled, sweat gleaming under amber light. The air is thick with the scent of spiced rum, citrus peels, perfume, and something smoky that clings to skin and breath alike.
You’re out with Will, James, Harry, Chris, and a few others. Someone had the brilliant idea of checking out Latin Night—probably Chris, based on how quickly he gravitated toward the strongest cocktail on the menu and the prettiest girls near the bar.
The table wasn’t built for this many people, but no one cared. You’d claimed the corner stool first, legs dangling just above the floor, while Will slid onto the seat beside you with his usual laid-back ease. James perched directly across the table, Coke in hand, that trademark half-smirk on his face like he’d just thought of a joke he wouldn’t share. Harry wedged himself in last, still ranting about “authentic” mojitos, phone already out to prove his point as the Arthurs jostled for space, arguing over lime wedges and whether sugar syrup “disrespects the entire drink”.
The air is warm, buzzing with energy and low conversation. Will’s shoulder brushes yours every time he leans to speak to someone, and you feel each touch like a tiny jolt. You sip your drink, trying not to focus too hard on how close he is, how comfortable he seems.
Around you, the crowd pulses with life—laughter spills from nearby tables, the clink of glasses punctuates the music, and the soft rustle of dresses and shirts as people move in time with the beat. You mouth the words when a familiar lyric floats past, and Will catches you doing it, his gaze lingering. Something flickers in his eyes—but it vanishes as quickly as it came.
Then the DJ shifts into a bachata. Smooth. Sultry. Perfect. Your heart lifts instinctively with the opening notes, then sinks as you glance toward the dance floor and feel that same ache rise in your chest again.
“Hey,” you say. “Wanna dance?”
He turns his head toward you slowly, eyes meeting yours for a moment. His lips part slightly as if he’s about to say yes but then he hesitates and shakes his head. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, a vulnerability you don’t often see.
“I don’t really dance,” he admits, his voice low and a little sheepish. A half-smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, trying to soften the refusal. He runs a hand through his hair, as if trying to gather his thoughts. “Especially not,” he pauses, brow furrowing as he tries to place the unfamiliar rhythm, “whatever that is.”
“Bachata”, you say softly. You watch his expression, hoping he might surprise you.
“Right. That.” He chuckles, a bit awkwardly, and shrugs. “I’d look like an idiot out there.”
You lean in a little, your eyes bright with determination. “Come on, it doesn’t have to be perfect. I can teach you the steps. It’s not like anyone’s watching that closely.” You give him a playful nudge. “Even if you’re just stepping on my feet, it’ll be fun.”
Will hesitates, glancing around as if measuring the crowd’s gaze. Then he looks back at you, that same half-smile lingering. “You really think I won’t embarrass myself?”
“Absolutely,” you say with a grin. “That’s half the fun.”
He still looks unsure. “I don’t know… I’d probably just look ridiculous.”
Trying one last time, you nudge him gently again with a face-splitting grin. “So what? That’s what makes it fun. Besides, no one's a pro. Just one song. That’s it.”
Will hesitates, lips pressed into a thin line, then shakes his head gently. “Really, I’m good. I’ll pass.”
You shrug, right then, somewhere beneath your ribs, something final sets in. “Oh, okay.” That was it. The last time. No more nudging, no more hoping. You won’t beg to be chosen.
Before the awkward pause can settle in too thick, James stands and downs the rest of his soda. “I don’t drink,” he announces to no one in particular. Then, turning his eyes to you with an easy smirk, “But I do dance.”
He glances at you, a smirk playing on his lips. “Better than sitting here watching you pout all night.”
You let out a breath of a laugh, not bothering to deny it. “You know bachata?”
James shrugs. “Enough.” He extends his hand. “C’mon.”
You hesitate for just a second, but only to steady yourself, not your nerves about Will, but the sudden, decisive shift within you. This wasn't about him any more. Not even a little.
You slide your hand into James’s.
As he leads you towards the pulsing heart of the dance floor, weaving between tables buzzing with chatter and the sharp scent of spilt cocktails, he leans in close. His breath ghosts warm against your temple, his voice pitched low over the thumping bass, “Trying to make him jealous?”
You meet his sidelong glance, your expression serious, unwavering. “Not any more.”
James chuckles, the sound rich and easy, but his eyes hold yours for a beat too long. That familiar, knowing smirk plays on his lips, tinged now with something else, gentle disbelief. He gives your hand a small, reassuring squeeze, the gesture comforting yet patronising in its assumption. “Right, right,” he says, his tone light, almost indulgent, as if humouring a stubborn child clinging to a fib. “Of course you’re not.” He shakes his head slightly, a flicker of affectionate exasperation in his gaze, before he focuses on navigating the crowd. “Just stick close. We’ll make it convincing anyway.”
He doesn't believe you. Not for a second. He thinks you’re putting on a brave face, doubling down on the tactic he suggested. The irony is thick, almost palpable, as he guides you onto the floor, utterly unaware that the game he thinks he’s masterminding has fundamentally, irrevocably changed.
The lights cast soft gold across your faces as you step into the music, the low thrum of the bass curling through your chest. James’s hand settles gently on your back. The moment your bodies fall into the rhythm, you feel your pulse match the beat.
“Relax,” he murmurs, a smile tugging at his lips. “It’s just dancing.”
But it isn’t. Not any more.
You catch Will’s eyes across the room. He’s watching, of course he is. But for the first time, it doesn’t twist the way it usually does. You’re done waiting for him to move.
James guides you through the steps—side, together, side. He spins you, catches you again. You sway closer, the warmth of his hands grounding you, the heat of his gaze making it impossible not to smile.
“You do realise this song is dangerously romantic, right?” he teases.
You lift an eyebrow. “And yet you agreed to it.”
He shrugged. “You know”, James continues, dipping you slightly, “if this doesn’t make him jealous, he might actually be blind.”
You glance toward Will again, but the ache’s already softening into something else. Resolution.
Then James pulls you close, eyes glinting with mischief and something warmer underneath. He leans in, voice low, “And if he doesn’t do something about it soon, I just might steal you for real.”
You feel the flush rise to your cheeks—whether from the dance or the playful threat in James’s tone, you’re not sure. “Go ahead," you say, your voice surprisingly steady, meeting James's gaze directly. The music pulses around you, but your focus is entirely on the man holding you. "Steal me."
James falters. Just for a fraction of a second, the smooth rhythm of his steps stutters. His smirk freezes, then melts into genuine confusion. His eyes search yours, the playful glint replaced by startled disbelief. "What?" he breathes, the word nearly lost under the guitar's melody. He hadn't expected agreement. He’d expected deflection, a blush, maybe a nervous laugh.
You don't look away. The dance continues, your bodies still moving in time, but the energy between you has shifted seismically. The pretence is gone. "I remember what you said," you say, your voice low but clear, cutting through the sultry beat. "In the Uber. That night. 'You're the depth. The risk he won't take.'" You see the recognition flash in his eyes, followed by a dawning vulnerability he quickly tries to mask. "I was so tangled up in wanting Will, wanting something that was never really there, that I was blind."
James remains silent, his hand warm and firm on your waist, his expression utterly bewildered. He’s stopped leading, letting the momentum of the dance carry you both as he stares at you.
"I asked him tonight," you continue, the confession flowing easily now, a weight lifting "One last time. Not because I hoped for anything different. I needed to hear the 'no' from his lips one last time. " You give a small, decisive shake of your head. "He refused. Again. And it didn't break me. It just confirmed what I finally understood."
You lean fractionally closer, your voice dropping to an intimate murmur meant only for him. "You were right, James. I was settling for crumbs. Starving myself for scraps of attention from someone who couldn't see past the surface." You hold his gaze, letting him see the certainty, the gratitude, and the shift. "But you saw the depth. You chose to see it. You chose me. First. Even when I was too stupid to see you standing there."
James’s breath hitches. The confusion in his eyes is rapidly dissolving, replaced by a stunned, almost hesitant wonder. The cocky facade is completely gone now, stripped bare by your words. He looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time, truly seeing you, not just the girl pining for Will.
"You. You realised?" he finally manages, his voice rough with emotion he doesn't try to hide anymore. The hand on your waist tightens almost imperceptibly, a grounding anchor. "When?"
"It was a slow process," you admit, a soft smile touching your lips. "Every time you wanted to do something with me. Every time you nudged my elbow or touched me like it was normal. The time you stood beside me in the rain and told me to stop settling. It took Will vanishing one last time for the pieces to finally click." You squeeze the hand resting on his shoulder. "Thank you. For seeing me. For choosing me first. Even when I didn't deserve it."
James doesn't speak for a long moment. He just looks at you, the intensity in his gaze stealing your breath. The music swells around you, the romantic bachata notes weaving through the charged silence between you. The frustration on Will’s face across the room is irrelevant now. The only thing that matters is the dawning hope, the raw honesty, the rightness reflecting at you in James's eyes. He pulls you just a fraction closer, his thumb brushing softly against the fabric at your waist.
I always think of ‘Thank You For The Music’ as a farewell song. A few of my fave YouTubers (like Natacha Oceane) have slowly been phasing their way out of the internet and I thought this may be a good prompt! I also had an ask relating to a pregnant reader and threw that in here - let me know your thoughts!
It was a decision Y/N had wrestled over.
She had been a part of the content creating world since 2013, sharing a large majority of her life with her viewers. They had seen her finish up at university, develop a business from the ground up, make friends with other content creators, and they’d been keen onlookers as she fell in love with Will.
But now she was ready to close the chapter.
Y/N sat in front of the camera, Will setting up the perfect shot.
He pressed record, stepping forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “You got this?”.
She nodded. “I got this.”
“Alright. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” He left the room, closing the door behind him.
-
@/YNsCorner uploaded a new video to her channel!
Farewell, My Friends
[Will can be seen leaving the frame]
Hello, my friends! Welcome back to our little corner of the internet.
As you can probably tell by the rather ominous title, I’ve got some news to share with you all. I’ve made the difficult decision to leave YouTube for an extended period of time.
Before I say anything else, I want to say thank you. Whether you’ve been here since the very beginning or just joined us last week, if you’ve been commenting forever or have been a silent watcher, thank you.
I’ve been on YouTube since 2013.
Over the years, I’ve shared every part of my life with you guys. You’ve watched me grow up, settle into the home that I’m in now with the person that I love, you’ve helped me start my business and opened so many doors for opportunities that I didn’t know existed. This community, in many ways, has been my safe haven. A soft place to land. A best friend to talk to when things feel a little lonely.
It’s because of this that I feel as though I owe you guys some honesty and clarity….
As most of you would know, Will and I recently got married. We’re heading into the next chapter of our life together and we are starting a family.
Which, by the way, what a head fuck. Imagine telling 2013 me she marries a YouTuber. Unreal.
This next chapter is one I’ve had my eye on for a while. It’s probably the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done, but I have a feeling it will be the most rewarding and I’m so looking forward to soaking it all up. I’ve put all of my time and effort into my first baby, aka you guys, for the last few years and I’m hoping to do the same for my next one.
I know that a large majority of my audience is a similar demographic to myself - so if you find yourself in a similar spot while I’m gone, whether that is starting a family or travelling or a new exciting opportunity - just know that I’m so thankful you were here. We got to be girls together. That goes for all of you, really. While I may not be on here for a while, I will forever be cheering all of you on.
Thank you for laughing with me, crying with me, supporting me through the dark and twisty bits as well as all of the fun shit this platform has manifested for me. It wouldn’t have been possible without you.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
It’s not goodbye forever, just a see you later.
Thanks guys. I love you.
[Will enters the room, Y/N stands up to reveal a bump]
Screen goes black.
—
@/ynscorner:
♡ liked by willne, sabinablair, theburntchip & miniminter
As ABBA would say, thank you for the music 🤍✨
willne: Proud of you ❤️ might have to up my content game while you’re on break
glambyflo: So happy for you guys! You have always been my favourite content creator (best believe I’ll be coming over for in person reviews and tutorials). Can’t wait to see what the next chapter looks like 🫶
taliamar: Don’t mind me SOBBING. I’m so happy for you both 😭
user876917: oh this has brought so many tears to my eyes 🥹 we are the same age and i’ve been with you since 2015. in many ways, it has felt like you’ve been my best friend throughout that time. thank you for being a safe space. love you! i’ve never been so bashfully cheerful for a person on the internet
tanyaburr: Oh I am so happy for you!! Wishing you all the best ❤️
user6123: tanyaburr where’s Martha??
callux: What a lucky kid to have parents as cool as the both of you. Congratulations 💙
lazarbeam: Fuck off!! Unreal!! Congrats guys!
tannar: A MILF is about to enter the chat… so happy for you both 🤍
you’re a contestant on season two of inside. only the other six sidemen and your friend/co-contestant george know that you're dating harry, and they love making shit difficult for you, because why the hell not.
⭒ Casual? By @ldr13beaches
⭒ Drunken Confessions by @/ldr13beaches
⭒ drunk bingo by @candykissd
drunk bingo is a crazy time, especially when you're a lightweight. although, harry's there to take care of you.
⭒ jealousy, jealousy by @/candykissd
there'd always been some tension between the two, a flirtationship, if you will. and so, when someone shows interest in y/n at a friends party, harry's jealous side comes out to play.
⭒ My Winner. By @sdmnpact
⭒ Wroetoshaw Masterlist by @/sdmnpact
⭒ Comfort In You by @ahopefullwritter
You’re visiting London to do a shoot with the sidemen and have been having a hard time sleeping. Harry notices your tiredness and offers you his bed and himself to help you finally get some rest.
⭒ Comfort In You pt. 2 by @/ahopefullwritter
It’s the morning after you slept over at Harry’s and the line between being friends and being more has officially been crossed.
⭒ NETFLIX SPECIAL by @whoetoshaw
an episode of the sidemen documentary follows harry around his day to day life with you
⭒ Masterlist by @/whoetoshaw
⭒ Festival by @sillylittlegirlthoughts
⭒ Skippers by @/sillylittlegirlthoughts
⭒ YOUTUBER MASTERLIST by @myoddessy
⭒ More Than Just a Match by @maggie-readss
The Sidemen Charity Match 2025
⭒ Take a break by @clemswinecorner
When something’s off with Harry, there’s probably only one person that can make him feel better: his girlfriend.
⭒ I get satisfied by @/clemswinecorner
Chris’ camera woman- and by now, also the boys’ friends- and Harry get teased about their dating life. No one seems to notice they’re saying exactly the same, though.
⭒ Being w3s assistant for 24 hours (Calfreezy’s video) by @sidemenxyn
⭒ Pub crawl, (chips video) by @/sidemenxyn
⭒ Harry & Y/n moments caught on camera! By @/sidemenxyn
⭒ SIDEMEN BRUTALLY RANK MORE YOUTUBERS by @wroetojaw
cozy day in with your boyfriend and watching the sidemen
⭒ 200 Y/o Cheesecake by @bad268
Harry joins your YouTube tutorial.
⭒ Laugh by @bad268
⭒ #mrsw2sslays by @infictionalwonderland
the nation absolutely adores you. . oh yeah, and your boyfriend too.
⭒ Stay by @mrtelevisionlover
⭒ WROETOSHAW ☆ masterlist by @w2sology
⭒ under the sheets by @/w2sology
everyone knows that you and harry are together, yet no one really knows what goes on in your relationship. but when fans get little snippets, they can't help but fawn over you both.
⭒ Wag by @w2soneshots
after your boyfriend, Harry, played in the sidemen charity match and lost, you go back to your hotel room and make him forget all about the result.
⭒ #Instagram Au (02) by @zaynieinsanie
⭒ The mystery package by @natailiatulls07
⭒ Favourite person by @yourimagines
you are Harry’s favourite person
⭒ Summertime fun by @kar1nsworldx
The Sidemen + their gf’s go to a trip to Croatia, where the reader is from
⭒ You made it. By @buzzyb33
growing up together y/n dreamt day and night of being a musician, she played guitar and piano and adored everything about it, her and Harry went school together until year 8 when she moved all the way to Leeds, she never really left his mind.
⭒ The Wedding Bells of December by @sofiasworld00
Harry and reader at Ethan and Faiths wedding where one thing leads to another and the night ends with an engagement.
⭒ Confessions by @landonorrisscar
A video of you and Harry at Vikk’s wedding went viral and the rest of the boys are questioning you guys about it.
⭒ w2s as a munch by @propertyofwicked
⭒ Your words still haunts me in my dreams by @lovelynikol7
⭒ Untitled by @jeezybipsman
Harry being teased about his stutter by the boys and is now kinda embarrassed to speak to the reader
⭒ Harry Comforting reader by @/jeezybipsman
⭒ ANOTHER BLANKET by @lvrslvt3
reader is being harassed by a creepy man harry is a little too late to save her.
⭒ LOVE IS A CHOICE by @/lvrslvt3
harry’s insecurities causes the downfall of his own relationship.
⭒ BABYFEVER by @allywthsr
Y/N sees a TikTok from side+ and gets severe babyfever
⭒ Stupid Mental Health by gothicwidowsworld
⭒ Thigh Riding by nsfwketamineharry
⭒ Romance is Boring by 221mars
Harry takes in a cold winter morning in his London flat
⭒ Date Night In Isolation by damn-behzinga
The activities you and Harry get up to in quarantine
⭒ You and Me by ketamineharry
reader and harry both really like each other but they both haven’t dated in a really long time so they have no idea what to do
⭒ I Love Me by ketamineharry
the reader is curvy compared to Talia + Freya and the other girlfriends and they are on holiday with everyone and the reader feels a bit insecure and scared of what everyone will think when they look at photos, have photo shoots and insta comments
⭒ Outnumbered by ketamineharry
⭒ Until I’ve Lived My Life by ketamineharry
Until I’ve Lived My Life by Lucy Spraggan
⭒ Behind His Back by sour--disposition
reader is best mates with cal and he brings her to shoots and in vids and such and her and Harry are kinda together but no one knows then someone accidentally outs them
⭒ It’s Been A While by sour--disposition
⭒ 2am Feast by sour--disposition
⭒ Bad Girlfriend by sour--disposition
⭒ Confessions at Sea by sour--disposition
harry lewis where like you’re hanging out with him and the sidemen and then you fall asleep on him and then the guys start making like “cheesy” comments about the two of you and harry like confesses how much he loves you
⭒ Head Over Heels by sour--disposition
while Harry is streaming on twitch Y/N passes out. Harry doesn’t notices until he sees that chat go wild.
Just wanted to say that I’ve been a silent reader for a while now and I’ve really enjoyed your content. I’m in the older demographic for the UK YouTubers (I’m 26) and I find it hard to read some of the content on this site as it seems aimed at the younger generation. I can’t step into the shoes of a 16-21 year old person.
Thank you for the writing (or ‘thank you for the music’ as ABBA would say, which may actually be a good song for a story). I hope to read more of the Silver Springs style.
❤️❤️
Hello, my friend 🩵
I definitely do get where you’re coming from. This is my first real return to Tumblr since the 2014 1D fic era and it is nervewrackingggg. I’ve found though, that on platforms as big as this one, that there’s space for you in every place you look 🫶
That actually is a good idea for a fic! I live laugh love ABBA 😮💨 but rest assured there is a second part to Silver Springs on its way!
This fic is a bit of backstory/continuation from the previously uploaded part ‘Where We Start’. You can find all of the links and bits here on the link below. For the most part, these chapters are in chronological order. But the context is necessary!!
A week post drunk yap in George’s bath
It was moving day. Y/N found herself sitting on the floor of her empty flat. She’d spent the last week having tough conversations with Alex - chats about dividing their finances, finding their new apartments, letting go of the future they’d once dreamed of. It wasn’t easy, farewelling the familiar. Alex had taken it well. The “I love you but I don’t think I’m your forever person” had landed better than Y/N had expected. Turns out he had known it had gone stale too. He didn’t raise his voice or beg her to stay. He had simply just said, “I think you’re right. We’ve outgrown each other.” All that said, the emotional part was heavy.
Y/N had plans to run with Theo, but found herself packing her belongings. Alex was still hanging around, packing up the last of his vinyls. They’d ultimately decided to both move out of their shared place, feeling like a new place would help them to start fresh. A quick call to Theo with a rushed explanation of “sorry mate I can’t come today, Alex and I have split so I’m moving my things out” hadn’t put him at ease like she’d hope it would. Instead, he’d panicked and immediately put a call into a few of the boys for help.
30 minutes later, Theo was walking through her front door, coffee tray in one hand and an almond croissant in the other. “You didn’t sound too good on the phone. I thought you could use some help”, handing her a coffee and croissant before wrapping his arms around her and embracing her in a hug.
“A hug would’ve been enough but the coffee and pastry is the cherry on top.” She smiled softly, letting out a breath.
“I thought it might be” Theo laughed, squeezing her tighter.
Catching a glimpse of Alex in his peripheral, Theo pulled away. “Hey mate!” He approached, hugging him. Alex had once been a part of the fold. He was happy to host dinners at home, attended the group parties and participated in the fun runs. The group loved him as much as they loved Y/N. But at some point, he stopped joining in. He got busy at work, found his own group of friends, wrapped himself up in his own interests.
“Okay so, professional cleaner is coming on Tuesday,” Alex spoke to Y/N. “Is there anything you need my help with before I take off?”.
“Okay. Well. This probably won’t be the last time I see you, but I just want to say,” Alex looked toward Theo, who took the hint and attempted to look busy. “Thank you. I’m really sorry things didn’t work out between us.”
“I dunno, I’d say they did. We’ve got nearly a decade of success.” She grinned, holding her arms out for a hug. She spoke quietly in his ear, “how lucky am I that you are the first man I’ve ever truly loved.”
Alex, not knowing how to respond, just held on a little tighter. A few moments later, they pulled apart, his hands softly grabbing her cheeks. He kissed her gently. “Love you.”
And with that, he put his key on the counter and walked out of the apartment.
“That nearly put a tear in my fucking eye.” Theo spoke from across the flat. He caught her eye, the two of them immediately breaking into laughter.
A thump at the door silenced them. “The fuck are you two cackling at?” Freezy spoke, sending them into giggles again.
—-
Theo had organised for the rest of the boys to meet them at Y/N’s new flat. Lux had been sent to IKEA to pick up the remainder of her flat pack furniture, Reev had stopped in at the garden nursery to pick up a few pieces for her and Harry was expected to be late (but would arrive with alcohol).
Freezy, Y/N and Theo lay spread across the floor of the new apartment. They’d taken turns dragging box after box into the service elevator, eventually deciding to call it a day and pass off the work to the others.
Not long after, Lux arrived with the boot of his car stacked to the brim. He walked through the door, carrying several IKEA boxes. “Right, where do you want this?”.
Y/N chuckled, biting back the lump in her throat. “Bedroom. Those look like bookshelves.”
Putting the box down in the bedroom, he walked back out. “And where do you want me?”.
She sat up and held her arms out for a hug. Lux grabbed her hands, pulling her up and into a tight embrace. He spoke softly. “You and I have been friends for a long time, so I don’t always feel like I have to tell you I love you. Because you already know. But I do.”
“I know. I love you too. Thanks for being here.” She spoke, voice muffled by his shoulder.
The rest of the crew - Reev and Harry - showed up not long after, but it was Theo, Freezy and Lux who held her together. They were like the big brothers she had always wanted.
Hours later, they were sat on the living room floor assembling a flat pack shelf when Harry approached her, handing her a glass of wine. “I brought something a bit stronger too but thought I’d test the waters.” He laughed, leaning down to kiss her temple. Theo took over the assembly, taking her screwdriver. “Go sit down.”
Y/N took a seat on the couch, Lux sitting beside her and offering a quiet presence. “You know I’d totally understand if you wanted to have a quiet minute in the bathroom.” He spoke, searching her eyes. They had all felt the way she had been on edge, as if she were terrified to close the chapter.
“I’m okay,” she had replied with a tearful smile. He just wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into him, as they watched Theo fight with the flat pack.
“You’re not okay,” Lux spoke softly. “And we love you all the same.”
By the time sunset had come along, Y/N was mostly unpacked. Theo had put together and organised her bookshelves, Freezy had hung her artwork, Lux had colour coded her wardrobe, Reev had placed her favourite plants around the apartment and set up her vinyl collection, while Harry cleaned as they went and refilled their drinks. Sat on her couch and beanbags, the six of them shared Chinese food and watched an episode of a shitty show.
Will had messaged her: “Hey, call me later.”
She hadn’t yet, but she would.
———-
In the days following the move, Y/N found herself adjusting to the quiet.
It was all new - only cooking meals for one, not having to worry about someone else’s socks ending up in her laundry. She’d gotten to a new normal. Freya had kept her busy, taking her out on long walks, while Talia invited her over for pasta nights at her and Simon’s place.
Unsurprisingly, the boys rallied around her.
Theo would stop in at her office to have lunch with her, bringing her pieces of PR he’d received so they could unbox it together. She came home to find her favourite bottle of wine on the doormat with a tag on it reading “saw this and thought you’d like it - Harry xoxo”. Lux had shown up on a Thursday evening armed with takeaway, having rented one of her favourite movies to his Amazon Prime account. They showed up.
She also called Will. He listened.
——
Post dinner antics and his first tour of the apartment, Y/N decided to invite Will over .
I got a bottle of red with our names on it, she’d texted. And a cosy looking bathtub to yap in.
Be right there.
He opened the door to her flat, finding her on the couch with a cup of tea in hand. She was in flannel pyjamas, hair in a bun, pimple cream in its all glory. It was the most her she’d looked in a while.
He kicked off his shoes like he’d done it a hundred times before and grinned. “It smells like you’ve been baking.”
“Oh, I have. There’s some brownies for you.”
They sat on opposite ends of her couch this time, knees touching.
Their plans to sit in the bath and yap had been abandoned, choosing to instead sit on the couch, drink tea and share warm brownies.
“I’ve got a thought,” Will spoke, mouth full of baked goods.
“Oh fuck, that’s a scary thought.” Y/N laughed.
“Oi!” He laughed, jabbing her knee. “Why don’t we save the bath chats for the scary stuff?”. He paused. “Wait, poor choice of words. Bath chats are for when you wanna tell the truth but it’s a little frightening.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Also reserved as an excuse to abandon loud parties.” She quirked an eyebrow.
“Done deal.”
A few hours later, she sat on the couch as Will dug through her vinyl collection.
Putting on one of her favourite Joni Mitchell records, he sat back down.
“I like this version of you,” Will said quietly, as she leaned her head on the armrest.
“What version’s that?” she murmured.
“The one who finally chose herself.”
——
By now, everyone knew. Will was in love with Y/N. Y/N was in love with Will. She was just going through it. Hadn’t finished grieving the end of the better part of a decade.
There was no secret between friends like theirs. Lux had caught Will staring at her once during dinner, and didn’t even need to say anything. He just patted his back and passed him another drink.
Theo had pulled Y/N aside at the dinner where she’d spilled her guts and told her, “When you’re ready, he’s ready. But until then, we’ve got you.”
Even George, who had pushed a little too hard at the Clarke-Hill-Dixon tour celebration had shown up at the reception desk of her work with flowers and coffee from her favourite cafe. “I feel like we have this sibling relationship sometimes and I took it too far,” he’d apologised. “These probably aren’t as good as any sort of bouquet Will would get you.”
“What’s Will got to do with you bringing me flowers?” She had asked.
“I figured you’d realised you were in love with him by now.” He’d replied, grin cheeky as ever.
——
About 4 weeks later, it happened.
They hadn’t kissed yet.
They hadn’t needed to.
She wasn’t ready.
He wasn’t going to push her. Instead, he kept a respectful distance. He’d known her for over a decade. He’d been in love with her for years. Waiting 6 weeks for her to deprogram from her relationship was the least he could do.
On a Saturday evening, they walked out of the cinema after sharing a few glasses of wine and a bucket of popcorn.
Stopping under a street lamp, Y/N stopped in her tracks. Will stopped too. “You okay?”.
“I think I’m there. I’ve arrived somewhere, I think,” she said softly.
He didn’t ask what she meant. He just nodded, gently resting a hand on her cheek. “Okay.”
And as they arrived at her door, she hesitated to close the door behind her.
“Will. Can you do me a favour?” She spoke softly.
“Yeah, what’s that?”.
“Kiss me.”
He stood closer, searching her eyes for any hint of cold feet. His hands found her waist, gently pulling her in. He leant down, their lips gently brushing before they eventually met.
Her hands traced along his arms, finding a place to rest in his hair.
Will broke the kiss to speak, murmuring “I can’t believe this is happening”. Y/N spoke, “you are so hot but shut up”. He didn’t need to be told a second time, stepping into her apartment and backing her into the wall by the door, devouring her in a searing kiss.
Goosebumps spread across her skin, his hands leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched. A decade of watching her love someone else. A decade of longing, loving, yearning for her when he didn’t have a name for it yet. A decade of her loving the wrong person, when he’d been in front of her the whole time. The kiss said it all.
She was his. He was hers.
No more pushing it down.
—
A/N: Annnnnd we’ve unlocked a new part! Let me know your thoughts pls xx
I do have a part related to this that just explores the platonic relationships within the group. Is this something you guys would be interested in? I know that some of you tend to enjoy the character building chapters 💌
TAGLIST: @mosviqu @octaneink @clarkeysbedchem @mrswillne @meglouise00 @jonnybernthalslover @clarkey4life @asmoothoperator @clarkeyscvntymullet (opt in or out any time - drop me a DM or comment) 🩵
what writers would u recommend for the UK YT scene?
this is bloody difficult ngl ,, i wanted to split it into specific people for you hungry fic mfers
apologies if i missed anyone out! i love each and everyone's work and lap it up like mad , but i think they're particularly phenomenal at writing for the specific person, but definitely NOT limited to other people if that makes sense?? 😘😘
alfie buttle x reader (at start) | will lenney x fem reader
summary: a fun trip in monaco turns into heartbreak and finding whats right
masterlist | main masterlist
cw: cheating, ab is a dick icl, age gap (reader is 21, will is 29) - if theres anymore let me know
The glow of the mediterranean sun burned over your bare shoulders as you stood with Will, leaning against the railing of the yacht sipping your white wine. The conversation between the pair of you flowing from one topic to another, in a way that only happens between true friends.
But you couldn’t control the way your eyes continuously flickered over to your boyfriend past Will’s shoulder, smiling softly at the scene a few feet away from you. Alfie smiled brilliantly as he danced with Becky, spinning her around by her hand whilst Chip filmed them laughing hysterically.
“Sorry, am I blocking your view?”
Will’s words made you snap your attention back to him as you smiled shyly, “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologise, pet.” He teased, moving himself from in front of you, “Watch your boyfriend.”
You laughed shaking your head pulling Will back by his sleeve. Will chuckled, his eyes crinkling as he flashed a toothy smile. From a distance, Alfie watched you both, watched how your hand lingered on Will’s bicep for a beat longer than appreciated and how Will wrapped his shirt around your shoulders to stop you from burning.
A pit of rage boiling in his stomach as he scoffed turning away from the sight making Jo, a beauty influencer who you had all met on the trip, look up at him from her seat, “Everything okay?” She asked, batting her eyelashes.
Alfie glanced down, barely sparing a second of his time, “Grand, yeah.”
Jo placed an overly friendly hand on his flashing a flirty smile, “I’m gonna go get another drink.”
Becky and Chip were too deep into their babbling to even hear them as they left the group, but you noticed – if looks could kill, that girl would be dead.
Your eyes narrowed venomously on her figure as she looped her arm around your boyfriends walking over to the bar with a beaming smile and a bounce in her step. A bubble of uncertainty burst in your stomach as you watched them closely, completely ignoring Will’s presence and Arthur as he approached you both.
Your mind fully focused on your boyfriend as he paid for another girls drink, not even asking if you’d like another. Will placed a hand flat on your shoulder making your body turn then your head followed, “Want another?”
His finger tapped your empty glass, and you nodded smiling meekly letting him take it from your hand motioning for you to follow. You approached the bar with a lump forming in your throat and tears forming in your eyes which you tried to ignore.
Just like how your boyfriend was ignoring you, his attention fully on the other girl.
Will peered over at you, his eyes softening when he saw the pout lingering on your lips, “You okay?” He asked, leaning down so his lips brushed against the shell of your ear.
You nodded, not trusting your voice. You turned around flattening your hands on the bar as you chewed your lip, “Sorry.”
“Why you apologising?”
You shrugged, looking up at him with glassy eyes making his heart shattered. He placed a comforting hand on your back moving his thumb to draw careful circles into the fabric of his shirt that was still wrapped around you.
Will turned around searching for Alfie, assuming you would prefer your boyfriend to comfort you, only to see him leaning against the railing leaning in close to a girl – a girl who wasn’t you – and his blood started to boil.
Arthur hand you both your drinks before following Will’s hardened stare. When his eyes landed on Alfie and Jo, he cursed under his breath looking at you sympathetically as you wiped the tears that has slipped down your cheek.
“Do you want us to get Becks?” Arthur asked, and you shook your head.
“I’m okay,” You sniffled, flashing a smile that couldn’t quite reach your eyes like it usually did, “honestly.”
The boys nodded not fully believing your words. Arthur made his way back to the group and Will’s hand stayed in its place at the middle of your back walking you through the crowd away from prying eyes.
As you both settled down on the cream sofa, you let out a sigh swirling the wine in your glass. Will’s gentle eyes moved over your features not knowing what to say or do, but he knew he had to be here for you.
He delicately grabbed the glass from your hand putting it on the floor by his feet along with his beer, “C’mere.”
You leaned into his welcoming hold and the tears you had been fighting began their descend from your eyes to his t-shirt. Your hand covered your mouth muffling the sounds of your sobs and Will held you close resting his chin on the top of your head.
From across the boat, Alfie’s eyes wandered over the crowd of faces looking for yours and when he couldn’t find you an anger flamed in his chest, “Arthur!” He called out making the man look over at him and he was not hiding the distaste in his eyes, “Where’s y/n?”
Arthur shrugged dramatically, “She’s your girlfriend, remember?”
Becky and Chip pursed their lips at Arthur’s words trying to hide their laughter as they turned around.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Nothing, man,” Arthur said coolly, “Just that you should know where your girlfriend is, but how could you when you haven’t even spoken to her in like 3 hours?”
Alfie gritted his teeth scoffing as he pushed himself off the railing winding his way through the crowd to find you, “Fucking ridiculous.” He grumbled, shaking his head.
As he found his way to the back of the boat he spotted you, leaning into Will’s side with bloodshot eyes and pouted lips, “What the fuck?” He blurted, approaching you with his hands thrown out to his side.
You stood up quickly tripping over your feet to get to him, “What are you doing?” He asked, eyes darkened with rage as they flicked between you and Will assuming the worst, “Did you fuck him?”
The words crashed down on like a tonne of bricks, and you stepped towards him shaking your head, “What? No, of course I didn’t.” You answered, hands reaching for his, but he pushed them away, “I didn’t do anything!”
Will stood up, arms across his chest and jaw clenched.
“You’re such a fucking slag.”
The words fell from your boyfriends – well, ex boyfriends – lips like daggers piercing into your heart as your mouth fell open in disbelief.
“I didn’t do anything.” Your voice cracking, hands trembled at your sides, “We were just talking.”
Alfie let out a laugh that dripped in sarcasm, “Yeah, talking.”
“We did!”
Alfie’s hands balled into a fist at his side as his nostrils flared in frustration. The sudden display of anger made Will step forward blocking you from Alfie, “Alright, that’s enough, yeah? Go back to Chip and that, we’ll come find youse when everything’s calmed down.”
“Don’t fucking bother.”
Alfie stormed off making a b-line for Jo, who had been watching the scene from a distance with a small victorious smile on her face.
Will’s lips curled in disgust as he watched Alfie sling his arm around the girls shoulders pulling her into him. He turned around crouching down slightly cupping your soaked cheeks into his palms, “Hey, you’re okay.” He tried to comfort you, but it didn’t stop the broken sobs that shook your frame, “Let’s go, yeah?”
You nodded dropping your head down low letting Will slip his hand into yours to guide you over to the ladder to get to the lifeboats.
The blistering sun had begun to set as the taxi pulled up outside of Will’s villa, casting a soft gold hue over the building. You were completely wrecked. Cheeks and neck stained with tears. Both of Will’s shirts damp and mascara stained.
He reached for your hand, helping you out of the car as his hand hovered over the small of your back leading you to the front door.
“The bathrooms just down that hall,” He pointed, placing your bags on the sofa, “You can shower, bath, whatever you want.”
You smiled, “Thank you.”
Will’s heart tugged at the crack in your voice, his head shaking on instinct. His hand reached up brushing away the fallen curls from in front of your eyes, “No need to thank me.”
“I haven’t got any spare clothes,” You remembered, picking at the hem of your skirt, “They’re at the other villa.”
Will shook his head, “Arthur said Chip sent one of the boys to fetch them for you.”
A small oh passed your lips.
That meant they all knew you were with Will, obviously they knew. But there was something about Will telling them. Did he tell them about the argument? About you crying? Then, as if he could hear the cogs in your brain going over time, his hand grabbed yours, thumb dragging over your knuckles, “Everything’s gonna be okay.”
You gulped, nodding.
“Go shower, and I’ll fetch a clean shirt and towels in, okay?”
Half an hour later, and you felt like you had successfully scrubbed the day off your body. Your entire body lingered with the smell of Will, his body wash and shampoo clinging onto you.
You felt better.
The quiet noise of a one-sided conversation bounced off the walls as you padded down the hallway, trying not to disturb Will. Your fingers curled at the hem of the shirt Will had given you pulling at it, overly aware that it only reached the middle of your thighs.
But the sound of you entering the room made Will cut his conversation short, he glanced over his shoulder at you flashing a smile, “Alright mate, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”
You shuffled over to the patchwork sofa sitting on it stiffly, “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, that was Chip just seeing if you’re okay.” He said, placing his phone on the coffee table before looking at you locking on your sad eyes, “Are you okay?”
You nodded, your heart squeezing at the words, “I will be.” Your words came out soft, barely audible, as you cracked your knuckles pressing your lips in a line, “Can I tell you something?”
“Course.”
“I think mine and Alfie’s relationship ran its course ages ago, but neither of us wanted to admit it,” You confessed, refusing to look up from your lap, “we’ve been together since we were 14 and now, we’re 21 almost 22. It felt like a performance, like a part I had to play. It should’ve ended ages ago.”
You lifted your head looking at Will, “Sorry, I don’t know why I’ve told you that.”
“That’s alright,” He shrugged, his hand landing on your knee squeezing gently and a small gasp fell from your lips at the feeling, “I’m always here if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Will.”
“Anytime, love.”
And with that, he pushed himself up off the coach disappearing down the corridor pulling as he tugged his shirt over his head.
Later that night, you laid curled into the corner of the sofa with a small blanket wrapped draped over you. The air in the villa warm and still around. You couldn’t sleep, your mind going 100mph as you tossed and turned.
Every thought in your head surrounded on the Geordie man in the other room.
You sat up biting down on your cheek as you fought internally with yourself. You knew you shouldn’t go, it was morally wrong, but you couldn’t stop thinking about it. His hand on your skin, the way his warm breath fanned against your cheek – your mind was full of Will.
The blanket fell into a puddle around your feet as you stood up. The cold of the wood floor flooded up your legs as you made your way to Will’s room pushing the door open slightly making him turn to face you.
“What’s wrong?”
His voice was groggy as he sat up, the duvet falling to his waist revealing his toned chest that was being shadowed from the hallway light that flooded in, “Couldn’t sleep.
A breathy laugh left his mouth as he lifted the duvet inviting you in. You accepted gratefully pattering over to the bed and slipping under it. You moved into a comfortable position sighing in relief and Will’s warmth radiated against you making you sink closer to him without even realising.
He stiffened feeling your clothed back against his bare chest not knowing what to do. He shifted onto his back draping his one arm his stomach, the other flopped to his side as he stared at the ceiling through the darkness, feeling your even breaths against his arm.
“Will?” You whispered, soft voice blending with the darkness, “Are you awake?”
“Yeah.”
You copied his position, dropping onto your back hand brushing brushing slightly making both your breaths hitch, “Sorry.” You muttered, moving it to lay on your stomach.
“That’s alright.”
Then a silence fell.
It was a thick silence, filled with tension and unspoken words, and it was growing unbearable with every passing minute. You felt like one wrong breath and the world was going to collapse under you.
Will coughed awkwardly, hand moving above his head as you let out a shaky sigh, “Will?” You muttered, head tilting up against the pillow to look at him.
He hummed looking down at you, your lips parting slightly and eyes glossy under the moonlight that shone through the gaps in the curtains. You looked truly breathtaking like this, as if the Gods themselves had built you. His hand moved from his side brushing your messy waves from your shoulders and you shivered.
“Can I kiss you?”
Will knew it wasn’t a good idea; you had just broken up with your long-term boyfriend. But with you here, looking at him like that, asking him that. How could he possibly say no?
He leaned down capturing your lips with his. Your lips moved tactically against each other, every shift or action purposeful and delicate. Will dropped his hand to your waist, his wamr hand kneading into the bare flesh of your hip.
“Is that okay?” Will muttered against your lips and you nodded taking a deep breath.
He dove straight back in, the kiss became heated as he pulled you closer and you shifted your leg to drape over his hips, one hand of his tangling in your hair pulling gasps from your lips. Your own hands found their place at his jaw as they slid into his soft mullet massage the base of his neck.
You pulled away for a moment forehead against his as your breaths came out ragged. You pushed yourself to sat up slightly looking down at Will, he reached up his thumb caressing your cheek softly.
His eyes danced over your features, staring at you like you were the only thing on this planet, “What?” You giggled, laying a hand on his chest.
“What?”
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because you’re beautiful.”
Your breath hitched at his words, and you sat up straight hands dropping to your lap. Will furrowed his eyebrows mimicking your actions pressing his back into headboard, “What just happened?”
“You, uh, you called me beautiful…”
“Yeah,” Will nodded, tilting his head too look at you, “What’s wrong with that?”
“I, I’ve never,” You muttered, shrinking into yourself in embarrassment, “Nobody’s said that to me before.”
Will looked utterly shocked at your words, his hand tilting your head up to look at him, “You’re the most beautiful person, I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”
Your heart stuttered as you let him pull you closer to him. His words sticking into your brain like honey, warming your heart as you smiled shyly, “Don’t ever forget it.” He muttered against your lips, “Okay?”
You gave a quick nod and he locked your lips again moving you onto your back hovering above you as his lips fluttered over your sun kissed skin to your neck. Every peck was accompanied with a compliment that melted into your skin.
Your hands dragged over his warm skin in a featherlight touch as your breath shook, feeling him make his way back up to your lips with one last peck, “Goodnight, love.”
“G’night, Will.” You murmured, curling into his side.
His hands twirled into the end of your hair as he held you close – hoping that he’ll never have to let you go. Your breath started to even out as the sound of his heartbeat slowly lulled you to sleep, and you silently prayed that it would always be this way.
From the ‘Pushing It Down and Praying’ series. Find the masterlist here.
Layla | WillNE
Pushing It Down and Praying - Will’s Perspective
Warning: George comes off as the bad guy here. In the first editions of this series, we get a lot of backstory about her friendships with the group and the comfortability. George’s reaction here is obviously not reflective of what we see on screen - it’s just necessary for the angst ✨
Will’s Perspective
It had been one of those weeks.
Not for him, necessarily. It’d been a week of inconveniences. Ieuan was working on another project, both of his usual editors were unwell. For the first time in a hot minute, Will had edited his own content from start to finish. But walking into the Clarke-Dixon-Hill flat, it was clear that the heaviness in the air wasn’t on his account.
Arthur’s last minute “the tour has sold out” party was meant to be a chill gathering. Most nights at their flat were peaceful, ending in a few games of FIFA and depending on if Chris had done a shop - sometimes they’d secure a tea and some biccies. Walking in, though, it wasn’t the chill, laidback night he’d assumed it to be. It was loud music, girls gossiping in corners and George deciding to roleplay the bartender from hell.
Will hadn’t even wanted to come at first, but when Lux had casually mentioned she’d be there, that was enough.
Y/N lit up a room. She walked in and it was like the light suddenly got brighter. Freya had once described her as “sunshine in human form”, and Will didn’t think there was a term more fitting for who she was. Tonight wasn’t any different, except for a certain tiredness behind her eyes and a stiffness in her posture. Almost like she was on edge. However, that could be totally attributed to George’s ongoing interrogation.
Will stayed mostly in the corner with Simon and Josh, faking interest in their conversation about golf, but his eyes kept drifting back to her. She’d parked herself at the kitchen bench, making her way through a cocktail that George probably shouldn’t have served anyone with taste buds. Will didn’t miss the way she’d poured half of it into the houseplant once George turned his back to her. Y/N didn’t notice Will watching. But George did.
And of course, with alcohol in his system and lowered inhibitions, George had zero filter.
The hair on the back of Will’s neck went up the second he heard George ask, “Not to sound like a prick, Y/N, but where’s Alex?” Too loud, too direct. Making the bustling room feel like a pin could drop.
He glanced at Lux, who was already clocking the conversation from across the room. Freezy, too. They exchanged a look and made their way over. The tone had shifted, but George had no clue he’d just crossed a line. The boys had been around Y/N for an almost a decade. They knew that this conversation wouldn’t well.
George pressed again, lips pursed. “Do you love him?”
Talia had beat the boys to it, not letting her respond. “Give it a rest, George. She’s come straight from work. Let her chill before you interrogate her.”
Thank god, Will thought.
Still, Will saw how her shoulders relaxed like she’d been holding her breath the entire time. Freya and Talia were behind her now, getting her comfy on the couches. She looked like she needed softness.
But he kept close, moving to the kitchen where Freezy was nursing a beer.
“That was rough,” Freezy muttered under his breath.
Will nodded. “I don’t get why he pushes like that. It’s not his place.”
“She’s already stretched thin,” Freezy said, glancing toward the couch where she was now sitting, surrounded by the girls. “I just worry that the newer guys feel like they are entitled to poke at her.”
Lux wandered over, resting a hand on Freezy’s shoulder. “He saw Will gawking at her. That’s what set him off. Maybe he’s jealous.”
Will sighed, rubbing his temple. “If anyone makes her feel like shit tonight, I’m saying something. Just a heads up.”
Freezy quirked an eyebrow. “About time. Everyone knows you’re down bad.”
“Shut up Cal,” Will said, too tired to pretend. “This isn’t about that. It’s just… she deserves better than being put on trial in the middle of a party.”
They watched her laugh weakly at something Talia said. She looked grateful to be away from the questions, but exhausted.
——
He didn’t get a chance to speak to her again until later that night, after Chris had followed her into George’s ensuite. The girls had been the ultimate protection detail, keeping her to themselves. Will lingered nearby, waiting to check on her. When Chris left, he gave Will a nod, patting his shoulder.
He knocked on the door, bottle of wine in hand.
“Why don’t we just sit in the bath, chat shit, and drink this expensive wine I copped from Mr Calfreezy?”
She pulled off her shoes and climbed into the bath like it was the most natural thing in the world. And suddenly, they were back to that familiar rhythm. Their knees touching, their voices soft, the rest of the party slipping into the background.
He let her talk. Didn’t interrupt. Just passed the bottle back and forth, actively listening and adding in the occasional joke when it called for some comedic relief.
She opened up about Alex. The relationship. How it wasn’t working out. Things he already thought he knew, but were confirmed finally.
Will fought the urge to tell her how he felt. But in all the scenarios and all the ways he’d imagined telling her, none of them included her feeling this tired and worn down.
Instead, he told her the truth: that he cared. That she could call whenever she was ready, and he’d answer.
No pressure.
——
Later, George came in. Freezy and Lux weren’t too far behind him.
“Out,” he said, trying to play it off with a grin. “Go be social. You’re stealing my ensuite.”
Will stood up first. “Mate, maybe read the room next time, yeah?”
George’s brows furrowed. “What’s your problem?”
Freezy appeared at the door. “You are. She’s in here opening up about the very thing you pushed her to talk about.”
Lux stood by the door, arms crossed. You okay, he mouthed to her.
Will’s voice was calm but firm. “We’re her mates. We love her. Your delivery has been a bit shit tonight. Figure that out before you pour your next round.”
George looked stunned. No one ever called him out. But to his credit, he didn’t argue. There wasn’t a bad bone in his body. He’d just taken it slightly too far.
Will turned back to Freezy and Lux. “Thanks for that.”
Freezy smirked. “Don’t thank me. I only came in here to see my best friend.” Pointing to Y/N, both boys scoffed.
——
Outside, walking her home, arms linked, she laughed like she hadn’t in days.
When they stood in front of her flat, she pulled him into a hug, hanging on and savouring the moment. And he almost kissed her.
Almost.
But he stood back.
“Oh fuck. Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’ve made it weird now.”
Her response was soft, but steady. “No, you haven’t. I just need some time to figure out my shit first. It’s not fair to Alex.”
He nodded. “I know. I meant what I said.”
And she smiled. “If I call…”
“I’ll answer.”
A week later, she called.
You know the rest. He answered.
——-
A/N: Feel free to drop any thoughts below or in my inbox!
After spending the day exploring the local cafe strip in the CBD, the boys raiding Y/N’s pantry and taking over the pool in her apartment complex, they were ready to explore. Y/N had changed out her footy gear for tourist clothes - decked out in linen, Birkenstocks and a dad hat she’d copped from one of the players she worked with. She was determined to squeeze in as much Perth as she could.
The next morning, the crew was up early. Y/N and Lachie had planned out their day to a tee. First stop was a drive up to Cottesloe Beach for a walk along the water and coffee from the local food trucks.
Lachie was determined to teach them AFL, and had them kicking a footy around while Will disappeared. Y/N and Lux sat on the wall along the stretch of beach, laughing to themselves as she explained the rules. Will wandered over with two drinks, handing her one without asking. “Flat white, almond milk. I remembered,” he said, a smug smile tugging at his lips. She gave him an exaggerated gasp, before following up with a sincere “thanks”.
Lachie had somehow wrangled the boys into the respective cars, the original late night Maccas crew in the same car with the others following. The rest of the morning was spent exploring the rest of Freo. They ran around the markets, bought tickets to see the old Fremantle Gaol, tried a matcha from the cafe strip and the local boutique stores.
Ethan and Harry got stopped by a street interviewer, who was quick to ask them their opinions on the current political climate - to which Y/N and Lachie immediately ran in to pull them out. Harry would manage to finally be cancelled. Josh and Freezy immersed themselves in the music scene, dancing around the buskers and stopping to chat with the local gallery owners. Lunch rolled around and they found themselves by the water yet again, yapping away. Y/N and Lachie were busy educating their guests about the existence of drop bears (or lack thereof). Will had picked a fight with a seagull, copping a chip to the face from his new favourite roommate.
“Oi, what the fuck?” He laughed, whipping around.
“You can tell she works in footy. Look at the aim on her.” Lachie high fived the other Australian.
Late afternoon rolled around and they found themselves back at Y/N’s apartment complex, rotting away in the pool. Will and Simon sat on the edge of the pool as the rest of them swam around. Will had a disposable camera in hand, snapping photos of his mates.
Y/N swam up, holding her hands out.
He looked over at her, the wind tugging at strands of her hair. She didn’t say anything, just reached out and took the camera, turning it to face him.
“Want me to pose?” he asked.
“Nah. Might make the head look squarer.”
—
Dinner reservations were made for 6:30pm. Lachie had pulled some strings and gotten a table at a rooftop bar overlooking the Swan River. The dress code was smart casual - the boys were all decked out in nice linen shirts and out of hoodies for the first time since they’d arrived. Y/N had traded in her work polo for an actual dress.
As they went through appetisers for the table and shared their first round of drinks, Simon started looking around the table. “Do you think we should do a toast?”.
Simon raised his glass. “To Australia and to our local tour guide.” He gestured to Y/N. “Thanks for not kicking us out of your house. And for keeping the boys from getting kicked out of the country today.”
Everyone took turns clinking their glasses, and Y/N flushed but raised hers in return. “Just wait till you hit Melbourne.”
Will, sat to her left, leaned in closer. “I don’t think the trip could get much better. You’re setting quite a precedent.”
“Oh, I never disappoint.” She winked.
By the time the dinner plates were cleared, it was almost dark outside. Tiramisu was ordered for the table, the cocktail menu was brought out and Will took it as an opportunity to grab Y/N away from the group.
The view was incredible. The lights made the water look almost iridescent. She leaned on the railing of the rooftop balcony, unbeknownst to Will’s staring beside her.
“Don’t want to leave tomorrow,” Will admitted.
Y/N looked at him. “You’re not going far.”
“No,” he said. “But it’s not the place I’m worried about.”
Her breath hitched slightly. “Yeah?”
Will didn’t look away. “It’s weird. I’ve known you for three days. But it doesn’t feel that way.”
She smiled softly, teasing. “That’s because you live in my house.”
He laughed. “That’s probably it.”
They stood in comfortable silence, Will eventually deciding to break it.
“I’m glad I came here,” he said quietly.
She met his eyes. “Me too.”
Back at the table, Lachlan leaned over to Freezy, nodding towards the two leaning over the railing. “Told you.”
“Told me what?”
“That someone was gonna fall for her.”
Freezy took a sip of his drink, watching the two interacting.
“You may be right,” he said. “But I think she might be heading that way too.”
—
Y/N was curled up by the plane window, a hoodie tucked under her chin, one AirPod had fallen out and the other was being used to watch the newest episode of the MomTok ladies.
Will was beside her, flipping through the in-flight entertainment book. “As if these planes don’t have screens,” he’d complained. Most of the group had crashed hard the moment the plane had taken off, but Y/N had Will next to her wanting to yap for the whole 4 hour flight.
Will glanced sideways. “Do you think Melbourne will top Perth? From a tourist perspective.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Not a chance.”
“You’re biased. Wanna back that statement?”
She stretched her legs out and yawned. “Perth’s my home. You don’t beat home. Plus, this next leg is a bit chaotic for me. I’ve only got tonight with you guys, then I’m off.”
He frowned slightly. “Where to?”
“Meeting with another footy club tomorrow morning. They’ve got a media seminar thing on that I can’t miss.” She gave him a pointed look. “I’m in the room next to you and Lux, please no noise after I put myself to bed.”
“No promises.” He winked.
She rolled her eyes .
They both sat quietly for a moment, but the peace didn’t last long. Will jabbed her shoulder gently. “Alright. Explain it to me again.”
Y/N laughed. “Okay, so it’s Round 11. At the moment, Sydney and Brisbane are top four material. The Pies are dominating. Carlton’s had a shocking start, Essendon’s somehow overachieving, and the Cats have snuck their way back into contention. Again.”
Will looked intrigued. “And your lot? West Coast?”
She let out a short laugh. “Bottom four. We’re rebuilding. But not in the way that Man United are rebuilding. We’ve got a fairly new lineup, they just need the game experience.”
Will quirked an eyebrow. “Well. In your expert opinion, where do you think you’ll end up?”.
She grinned. “Harley Reid’s basically dragging us up the ladder kicking and screaming. We’ll find out.”
Will rested his head back. “So who’s winning?”.
“Might be too early to tell. Brisbane are starting to look like flag potential. Collingwood has the best culture, they play the best consistently. The Daicos brothers plus Steele and a strong midfield? Game over.”
“Alright,” he said, pointing at her, “if I pick a team, you have to buy me merch from them.”
“That’s risky. But then again, you are a Newcastle fan.”
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