୨⎯𝑹𝒆𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 ➛ 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑳𝒆𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒚⎯୧
summary: will's been in a mood all day and taking it out on you, james isn't having it | Will x fem!reader
notes: posting this from a random field hoping it actually uploads… based on this request!
content: 1.4k wc, angst, will being an asshole, will being rude to reader for no reason, protective james, fluff ending
You can tell something is wrong with Will before he even says a word.
It’s in the way he walks into the room – too quick, too sharp, like there’s something sitting under his skin that he can’t quite shake off. His jaw is so tight, his shoulders set in that rigid way you’ve come to recognise, and he barely even looks at you properly when he comes in the flat with James.
Normally, he would.
Normally, there’d be a smile, or at least something soft in his expression when his eyes land on you, something that makes you feel like you’re the first thing he notices in a room.
But today, it’s like he looks straight through you.
“Hi,” you say anyway, careful, testing the waters.
“Yeah”, he replies, distracted, already moving past you.
You blink slightly, thrown off by how quickly it happens.
It’s not like him.
You try not to let it bother you.
“Hey,” James says as he follows Will inside, rolling his eyes at his mood.
Everyone has off days. You know that. You’ve told yourself that all day, because this isn’t the first time he’s been like this today. There had been things earlier this morning before he left for work – short replies, a tone that felt just slightly off, a kind of restlessness that didn’t quite make sense but still made you feel like you were doing something wrong without knowing what it was.
You’d ignored it then.
You try to ignore it now.
It doesn’t last.
You’re in the kitchen, just doing something simple – making tea, moving around quietly, trying to keep things calm, normal – when he comes back in. there’s a tension in the air that wasn’t there before, something that feels like it’s been building, even if you don’t know why.
“Did you move my stuff?” he asks suddenly.
The question catches you off guard.
You turn slightly, frowning. “What?”
“My stuff,” he repeats, sharper this time. “On the table. It’s not where I left it.”
You glance over instinctively, then back at him. “I don’t think I touched it.”
“Well, someone has,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
You hesitate, unsure how to respond. “Maybe you just – moved it earlier?”
“I didn’t,” he snaps.
The edge in his voice makes you flinch slightly before you can stop yourself.
There’s a pause.
You swallow.
“Okay,” you say softly, trying to keep things level. “I was just – suggesting.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not helpful,” he shoots back.
The words land harder than they should.
You go quiet.
Because now it doesn’t feel like a bad mood. It feels like you’ve done something wrong.
It keeps happening.
Small things, one after the other.
You ask a simple question. He answers it like it’s an inconvenience. You try to joke. He doesn’t laugh. You offer help. He brushes you off, like you’re getting in the way rather than trying to make things easier.
By the third time, you’ve stopped trying as much.
You move more carefully, speak less, overthink everything before you say it, just in case it sets him off again.
It’s exhausting and confusing.
Because you don’t know what you’ve done.
The moment it breaks comes out of nowhere.
You’re both in the living room now, James somewhere nearby, half-listening, half-distracted by his phone. The tension has been sitting there for a while, thick and uncomfortable, and you can feel it in the way your shoulders are slightly tense, the way you keep glancing at Will like you’re trying to read something you can’t quite understand.
“I’ll just grab that for you,” you say, moving to pick something up from the table before he can reach it.
It’s automatic, Small. Harmless.
But apparently, it’s the wrong thing to do.
“Can you just – stop?” Will snaps suddenly.
The sharpness of it cuts through the room
You freeze, your hand still hovering mid-air.
“Stop what?” you ask, your voice quiet now, caught off guard.
“Just – doing that,” he says, gesturing vaguely, frustration spilling over. “Hovering, getting involved in everything. It’s annoying.”
The words hit harder than anything he’s said so far.
“I was just trying to help,” you say, your voice smaller than you want it to be.
“Well, I didn’t ask for help,” he shoots back.
The room goes quiet.
There’s a split second where everything just… hangs.
And then-
“Alright, that’s enough.”
James’s voice cuts in, firm in a way you don’t hear often. You blink, startled, turning slightly as he straightens up properly, his attention no longer on his phone but fully on Will.
“Mate, what’s your problem?” James continues, his tone sharp now, protective in a way that makes your chest tighten for a completely different reason.
Will frowns, defensive immediately. “I don’t have a problem.”
“Yeah, you do,” James says bluntly. “You’ve been in a mood all day, and now you’re taking it out on her for no reason.”
Your stomach flips.
“James, it’s fine-” you start automatically, the instinct to smooth things over kicking in before you can stop it.
“It’s not fine,” he cuts in, not even looking at you, his focus still locked on Will. “She hasn’t done anything.”
Will opens his mouth, like he’s about to argue, but nothing comes out straight away.
Because he knows.
You can see it in the way his expression shifts, the frustration faltering slightly, something else slipping in underneath it – something that looks a lot like realisation.
“I just-” he starts, but it sounds weaker now, less certain.
“No,” James interrupts, shaking his head. “Don’t. You don’t get to snap at her like that because you’re in a bad mood. Sort yourself out.”
There’s a pause.
A long one.
And then Will exhales, running a hand over his face, the tension in his shoulders dropping slightly like something’s finally clicked into place.
“…yeah,” he mutters, quieter now. “Yeah, alright.”
The shift is immediate.
Not gone completely – but different.
He looks at you properly then, really looks, and you see it all hit him at once – the way you’ve gone quieter, the way you’re standing a little more closed off now, the way your expression has changed without you even realising it.
Guilt flashed across his face.
“Hey,” he says, softer this time, stepping toward you. “I’m sorry,” he adds quickly. “I didn’t mean- any of that. I’ve just been-”
“In a mood,” James supplies dryly from behind you.
Will shoots him a look, but there’s no real bite to it this time.
“Yeah,” he admits. “But that’s not your fault.”
You nod slightly, but its small, hesitant.
“It just felt like it was,” you say quietly.
“It’s not,” he says, firmer now. “Not at all. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”
There’s sincerity in it now, real and unguarded.
You swallow, some of the tension in your body easing, but not completely.
“I was just trying to help,” you admit.
“I know,” he says quickly. “I know. And I made it seem like you were doing something wrong, and you weren’t.”
He steps a little closer, more careful this time, like he’s aware he has to earn that space back.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, softer.
You look at him for a moment, then nod again, a little more certain this time.
“Okay,”
There’s a small pause.
Then his hand reaches for yours, tentative, like he’s giving you the choice to pull away if you want to.
You don’t.
Your fingers curl around his, and he lets out a quiet breath, relief flickering across his face.
Behind you, James shifts slightly, the tension easing now that things have settled.
“Good,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Because that was painful to watch.”
You huff out a small, surprised laugh despite everything. Will rolls his eyes slightly, but there’s no real annoyance there anymore.
“Alright, Dad,” he mutters.
“Someone had to say it,” James replies, completely unapologetic.
There’s a beat, and then he glances at you properly, his expression softening.
“You alright?” he asks.
The question catches you off guard, but it’s warm. Genuine.
“Yeah,” you say, a small smile forming. “I’m okay.”
He nods once, satisfied, before leaning back again.
“Good. Because if he does that again, I’m kicking him out.”
“Oi, you don’t even live here-” Will starts.
“I mean it,” James adds, not even looking at him.
You laugh properly this time, the last of the tension finally easing away.
Beside you, Will squeezes your hand a little tighter, like he’s making a quiet promise.
One he fully intends to keep.
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