Hi ❤️, I love your fics, can I please request a sort of love triangle w/ a quirky indie-rock singer reader, Jacob Elordi and Will Poulter. Maybe she’s working on the music for a new film they’re in or something and they all become close, she’s telling them about her music and practices lines with them and slowly they both fall for her? Whoever she picks it’s up to you 😅
Thank you if you do write!
MasterList
Will Poulter Masterlist
I don’t usually get nervous around actors. Well… not anymore. I’d been working as a singer-songwriter for three years, mostly writing tracks for indie films and adverts. I’d learned to nod politely, smile at big personalities, and pretend I wasn’t starstruck when someone I’d once seen on telly asked me for tea.
But there were exceptions. And this film? This film had two.
Jacob Elordi and Will Poulter.
Massive actors. Beautiful, charismatic, talented. And I had been hired to write both the score and original songs to accompany the emotional arc of their characters. A dream job. And now, apparently, I was meant to stay for rehearsals, writing as I observed.
Which was exactly how I found myself sitting cross-legged on a studio floor, notebook open, when Jacob and Will walked in mid-banter laughing about something to do with a car stunt.
Jacob spotted me first. “Are you our musical genius?” he asked in that low, sleepy-sounding voice that made every vowel feel slow-motion.
I choked on nothing. “Genius is overstating it. I’m just Y/N.”
Will gave a grin that was warmer than tea on a winter morning. “Just Y/N who’s going to make us sound emotional and tortured on screen.”
“I’ll try not to make you cry,” I teased.
“Oh please do,” Jacob said, half smiling. “We need the awards.”
And just like that, I was part of their world.
I’d written three versions of a song meant to play under a confrontation scene two best friends torn apart by a lie. None of them felt right. So I recorded fragments, hummed melodies, scribbled lines, and tried not to overthink the fact that two very handsome men now sat on either side of me on the carpet, asking for creative advice.
Will practised his lines quietly, mouthing them before I heard him ask, “Can I read this with you? I’m stumbling over the phrasing.”
“Yes, have at it,” I said.
Before he could hand me the script, Jacob leaned forward. “Actually, can we swap parts. I’ve been reading him wrong. Let me try being the liar for a change.”
“Of course you want to be the liar,” Will chuckled.
Jacob grinned. “It’s more fun.”
They argued affectionately over wording. Then Will turned to me again. “You’d read the narration, right? You know the emotional beat better than us.”
My heart did a ridiculous leap. “Only if you’re sure.”
“Absolutely,” Jacob said without hesitation. “Your music is the backbone. Lead us.”
I did. I read the narration aloud, trying to focus on pacing rather than the fact I could feel both of them watching my mouth as I spoke. Jacob’s gaze intense, unreadable. Will’s softer, encouraging.
When we finished, Jacob blew out a breath. “That hits differently with her reading it.”
Will nodded. “The music’s in her voice.”
I tried not to melt into the carpet.
The three of us kept ending up together. Between takes, between writing sessions, between meals. Jacob started bringing iced coffees to rehearsals, always handing one to me first without asking what I liked he’d already “guessed my flavour” somehow. Will helped me translate messy scribbles into structured sheet music, his hand brushing mine as if by accident... or maybe not.
One afternoon, I was struggling with a lyric. The line was meant to express betrayal, but everything I wrote sounded melodramatic. I groaned in frustration, burying my face in my arms over a piano.
“You alright there?” Will asked, carrying a tray of snacks like he was everyone’s mum.
“This song hates me,” I muttered.
“Maybe you’re writing from the wrong angle,” he said, sitting beside me. “Instead of someone being lied to… what if they’re the liar?”
I frowned. “Why would they want to lie?”
“To protect the person they care about,” he said simply.
I blinked. It shifted the whole meaning of the song. “That’s… actually brilliant.”
Will flushed a little. “You do the genius bit, I’ll do the snacks bit.”
Before I could thank him again, Jacob appeared on my other side, leaning over the piano, impossibly tall. “I’ve got a confession,” he said.
“What?”
“I heard you say the song hates you. That’s rude of it.” He smiled crookedly. “I’d never hate you.”
I froze. Will shot Jacob a look friendly, but edged with something sharper. Competitive.
I laughed it off, even though my stomach fluttered. “That’s comforting, thanks. I’ll inform the song.”
Jacob tapped the top of the piano. “Do. I’m on your side.”
Will cleared his throat. “So am I.”
Suddenly the room felt charged, as if all three of us were speaking about more than music.
I started working late. Partly because inspiration liked to taunt me at odd hours, but also because Jacob kept staying to run lines, and Will kept suggesting we revise lyrics, and I kept saying yes.
One night, I played through a finished track for them raw vocals, gentle piano, and a string section that made even me emotional. When the final note faded, the room was silent.
Jacob was the first to speak. His voice barely above a whisper. “That is the most beautiful track I’ve heard in years.”
Will exhaled slowly. “That’s not a film song. That’s… personal.”
I swallowed. “It is. A little bit.”
Jacob looked like he wanted to ask personal about who? but didn’t.
The producer called wrap for the night, but none of us moved. Eventually, Will stood, stretching. “Want a lift home?”
Before I could answer, Jacob added, “We could grab a late snack instead. You should eat something. You’ve worked straight through dinner.”
Two offers. Two smiles. Two sets of eyes waiting for mine.
I hesitated. “Actually… I think I want to walk. Clear my head. But thank you, both of you.”
Jacob nodded slowly, almost disappointed. Will gave a polite smile… but a spark in his eyes suggested he wouldn’t give up trying.
Rumours started on set. Jokes about the “trio.” Teasing from camera assistants. A prop guy whispered, “Team Elordi or Team Poulter?” loud enough for me to hear. Makeup artists wiggled their eyebrows whenever one of the boys stood too close.
I tried to ignore it, until one afternoon, during a break, Will pulled me aside into a quiet hallway. His voice was uncharacteristically firm.
“Y/N, just… tell me one thing.” His jaw tightened. “Is Jacob trying to get close to you?”
I blinked, stunned. “I...I don’t know what he wants.” That was the truth, and it scared me.
Will looked down, swallowing. “I like you. More than I'm supposed to. I just need to be honest about it.”
My heart stopped. “Will…”
“I’m not asking you to choose. I just couldn’t keep pretending I didn’t feel anything.”
Before I could answer, Jacob appeared at the end of the hall, calling, “There you are...hey, come listen to this cue they’re messing with.”
He approached, slowed when he saw our faces, and immediately understood. His eyes flicked to Will, then to me.
Jacob spoke quietly. “If he’s saying what I think he’s saying… then I guess I should say it too. I like you, Y/N. And I’m not going to apologise for it.”
Will bristled. “She doesn’t owe us a decision.”
Jacob crossed his arms. “I didn’t ask for a decision.”
They stared at each other. A silent battle.
I stepped between them. “Please. Not like this. Don’t let me be the reason you two fight. That’s not what I want.”
They both softened instantly, voices overlapping:
“Sorry.”
“Yeah, sorry.”
I exhaled shakily. “Let’s just finish this project. Please. Let everything else wait.”
They nodded. Respectful. But their feelings didn’t disappear.
I felt both of them watching me the rest of the day. Not possessive. Just… hopeful.
When filming ended, I was asked to play the film’s final song live for the cast and crew. My heart pounded as I took the stage with just my guitar, the lights warm on my skin.
The song was about a relationship with no clear future. About wanting more than one path. About not being ready to choose.
I could feel them in the crowd Jacob, serious and still; Will, hands clasped, expression full of something vulnerable.
When I finished the last line
“Maybe loving you is a question, not an answer.”
there was applause, cheering, whistling. But all I saw were two very different smiles pointed directly at me.
Afterward, everyone celebrated with champagne. People hugged me, praised me but the moment the crowd parted, Will and Jacob both stepped forward, stopping at the exact same time. Neither speaking first.
Waiting.
For me.
I opened my mouth
…and the fireworks outside began, lighting the sky. Everyone rushed to the windows. Music blasted. Champagne spilled. The chaos swept us up.
No conversation. No decision.
Just their hands brushing mine. Both of them.
Not claiming me. Not forcing anything.
Simply saying they were still there.
Still waiting.
And I wasn’t ready to choose.
Yet.
Will Ending:
Later in the night more fireworks spilled gold across the sky, reflecting in the windows as if the whole world was celebrating. The music was loud, people were laughing, glasses clinking, arms around shoulders. In the blur of sound and movement, I felt a gentle tap on my arm.
Will.
He nodded toward a quiet area. Not dramatic, not intense just an invite. A quiet moment away. I followed him through the crowd, weaving past cast and crew.
Will leaned his elbows on a table, staring at the sky rather than at me. “I didn’t want to push you earlier,” he said softly. “Or tonight. I just thought you deserved space.”
“I noticed,” I said. “Thank you.”
Finally, he looked at me. Eyes warm. No demand, no expectation. Just honesty.
“I like you,” he repeated, quieter now. “Not because you wrote a beautiful song or because everyone else sees it… but because of who you are when no one’s looking. The way you care about your work. The way you listen to people. The way you don’t see yourself the way we see you.”
His words landed deeper than any compliment ever could.
“I don’t want to rush you,” he added, nervousness flickering at the edge of his voice. “I don’t want to win something. I just… want you. If you want me back.”
I didn’t answer straight away. Instead, I stepped closer, closing the space between us until our arms nearly brushed. “Will,” I whispered, “I wasn’t afraid of choosing you. I was afraid of choosing too fast.”
He tilted his head, eyes searching mine. “And now?”
“Now,” I said, feeling certainty rise like a steady note held in a quiet room, “I know who I want.”
His breath caught, but he still didn’t reach for me. He waited. Letting me decide how this moment began.
So I lifted my hand, lightly touching his jaw, tracing the edge of the stubble he always complained about forgetting to shave. He covered my hand with his own, fingers warm and sure. Slowly, carefully, he leaned in and I closed the last inch.
The kiss wasn’t fireworks. It wasn’t urgent or wild. It was slow warmth spreading through my chest, like the quiet build-up of a melody you know will stay with you long after the song ends.
When we finally parted, he rested his forehead against mine. “Just so you know,” he whispered, breathless, “I’m still terrified.”
I smiled. “Good. Me too.”
Will intertwined his fingers with mine, not tightly just a gentle link, as if saying I’m here… if you want me to stay.
And I did.
I chose him.
Jacob Ending:
Later that night fireworks lit the windows again, music thundered, and people swarmed with laughter and champagne. In the chaos, I felt someone’s hand graze mine not timid, not accidental. Purposeful.
Jacob.
He didn’t speak. He just nodded toward the back exit with a subtle tilt of his head. I followed him out into a quieter hallway, where the noise became a muffled echo. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed loosely, watching me with unreadable eyes.
“You okay?” he asked, though his tone made it sound like he already knew the answer.
“I am,” I said. “Just… overwhelmed.”
He nodded. “You handled tonight beautifully. Everyone’s obsessed with your music.”
“Are you?” I teased gently, trying to cover my nervousness.
His jaw tightened not from irritation, but emotion. “More than I’ve wanted to be,” he admitted.
There it was. Jacob never hid behind politeness. He wasn’t careful; he was honest, raw, unfiltered. That was terrifying and magnetic all at once.
“I don’t want to pretend,” he continued, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. “Not about how I feel. Not about what I want.”
“And what do you want?” I asked, heart pounding.
He stopped close enough for me to feel the warmth radiating off him, but not close enough to touch. Not unless I asked. His voice dropped low, steady and certain.
“You.”
The weight of the word settled in the air. Not heavy just real.
“But I’m not here to fight him,” Jacob added. “Or pressure you. If you pick me, it’s because you feel it. Not because I chased the loudest.”
My breath shook. “I think… that’s what scares me. You’re intense, Jacob.”
His lips twitched into a half-smile. “And you don’t think Will is? He just hides his intensity better.”
I laughed softly, because he wasn’t wrong.
He leaned back slightly, giving me space. “I want you. But only if you choose me. Fully. Not halfway.”
Courage rose in my chest like a note unable to stay silent. I stepped forward closing the distance he’d carefully left.
“I don’t want halfway,” I said. “And I don’t want safe.”
His eyes softened. “So who do you want?”
I reached up, cupping the side of his face. His breath hitched just once. Then I said it quietly, clearly:
“You.”
This time, he hesitated, as if making sure. “Are you sure?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
His hand covered mine, fingers curling around it gently, and then he kissed me not cautiously, not timidly, but with the certainty of someone who’d held back far too long. It wasn’t loud like the fireworks outside. But it felt like them bursting through my chest.
When we broke apart, he pressed his forehead to mine. “You picked me,” he whispered, almost stunned.
“I did.”
A slow, crooked smile spread across his face. “Then I won’t waste it.”
He took my hand not to claim it, but to hold it like a promise. And together we stepped back toward the celebration. Toward everything uncertain. Everything intense.
I don't think I can put into words how much I'm looking forward to seeing your performance as The Creature in Frankenstein. I always loved the character of the book. Are you enjoying all the attention the movie has been getting so far? @jacobelordifms
Mia Goth et Jacob Elordi dans "Frankenstein" de Guillermo del Toro - adapté du roman "Frankenstein ou le Prométhée Moderne" de Mary Shelley (1818) - novembre 2025.
