୨⎯𝑻𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒑𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒚 ➛ 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑳𝒆𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒚⎯୧
summary: you and will get to know eachother before filming | Will x fem!reader
notes: bit of a short interlude but I hope you enjoy! also who gets the title reference?? part 3 of actor will!
content: actor!will, fluff, texts, getting to know eachother
series masterlist!
You don’t text him first.
You could. You have his number saved. You’ve opened the conversation twice already just to look at it – the blank space waiting.
But you don’t.
He texts first.
Will: hey :) hope you got home okay
You stare at it longer than you should.
You: I did. You?
Will: yeah still processing today a bit in a good way though
You smile at your phone.
You: me too. I think the movie’s gonna be special
There’s a pause. three dots. They disappear. Come back.
Will: I’m really glad I’m doing it with you
Your heart does a flip.
Over the next few days, the messages come easily.
Not constant. Not overwhelming. Just… steady.
He sends you a photo of his script covered in colour-coded tabs.
You send back a picture of yours, equally chaotic.
He admits he’s been overthinking one of the early scenes – the one where your characters meet for the second time, both pretending not to remember how much the first meeting meant.
You tell him that scene is your favourite.
He tells you that makes him feel better.
Two days later:
Missed Call – Will Lenney (7:42 PM)
A message follows almost immediately.
Will: sorry!! meant to call my sister unless you want to talk about act 2 in which case I absolutely meant to call you
You roll your eyes, smiling.
You call him back.
Call Duration: 43 minutes (7:46 PM – 8:29 PM)
You don’t mean to talk that long.
You start with the script. Honestly, you do.
The pacing in the middle. The way the dialogue gets tighter. The emotional shift at certain points.
But somewhere between discussing subtext and timing, you realise he’s stopped sounding nervous.
He laughs more. Teases you lightly about your habit of defending your character like she’s real.
You tell him she is real, to you.
He goes quiet in that thoughtful way he does.
When you hang up, you sit there for a moment longer than necessary, phone still in your hand.
The texts pick up after that.
Later at night. A little softer.
Will: do you think they would’ve worked if they met later?
You know he means the characters.
You pretend you don’t hear the extra layer.
You: I think they had to miss each other first. Otherwise it wouldn’t mean as much
A minute passes.
Will: yeah I think you’re right
He sends you a clip from that old short film of his you mentioned at the table read.
Will: found it don’t judge the hair
You watch it again. The black and white grain. The quiet desperation in his eyes even back then.
You: you’ve always been a great actor
He doesn’t respond for five minutes.
Then:
Will: you don’t understand how much that means coming from you
A week before filming starts, you talk almost every night.
Sometimes it’s structured – blocking idea, emotional beats about the script.
Sometimes it isn’t. Sometimes it’s stupid conversations about his dog or what you both had for dinner (in your opinion, a pot noodle is not a nutritious enough meal, but he doesn’t agree).
Call Duration: 1 hour 12 minutes (9:03 PM -10:15 PM) Call Duration: 52 minutes (8:17 PM – 9:09 PM) Call Duration: 2 hours 4 minutes (10:41 PM – 12:45 PM)
You never acknowledge how long that last one ran but he still texts you the next morning.
Will: morning don’t be mad but I’ve been thinking about the confession scene.
You: already?
Will: I just want to get it right
There’s something about the way he says it.
Not perfect. Not impressive.
Right.
Somewhere along the way, it stops feeling like movie prep.
You start sending him things that aren’t script-related outside of your late-night phone calls.
A photo of the sky outside your window.
A voice note laughing about something stupid your agent said.
He sends you a picture of the coffee he’s just made with the caption:
Will: method acting as someone who has their life together
You laugh out loud in your kitchen.
One night, after nearly an hour dissecting a scene with your characters, there’s a quiet stretch of breathing on the line.
Neither of you hangs up.
There’s nothing left to analyse.
Nothing left to rehearse.
Still, neither of you moves.
When you finally end the call, it feels abrupt. Like stepping away from something warm.
You lie in bed afterwards staring at the ceiling.
This is normal, you tell yourself.
You’re co-stars.
You’re just preparing.
You’re being professional.
But your phone lights up again, and your heart skips a beat.
Will: glad it’s you
You: me too
You were so fucked.
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