#james marriott x reader

[markell3]

the other woman - j.m

james marriott x fem!reader

word count: 1442 words

summary: you like james. he likes you. you are both oblivious idiots in love.

request: james marriott fic where he and reader are friends but she really like him and on a night out he kisses some random girl. Reader sees and gets sad but when he realizes she's sad cause he kissed another girl he confesses to her.

James Marriott is a man that many would call 'Angelic. You would say the same to be fair, but could never admit it out loud.

That was the main problem that you faced with James, no matter how close the two of you got, you could never be fully honest with him, because being completely honest with him would mean telling him your love for him. You would rather die with not knowing if he feels the same than risk losing him forever.

You met James on a night out in Brighton. You went to a pub with friends for a good night out and saw him, up on stage, playing a gig to a crowd with a large number of people with dyed hair. Lot's of people with blue hair jumping and singing their hearts out to this man with a guitar.

As his set ended and he came off stage, he went to the bar to order, sitting right next to you. After almost spilling your margarita all over the front of his pants, the two of you hit it off straight away. You have been inseparable since then.

But with proximity comes problems.

You see, spending more and more time with James has many benefits, as he is probably the most amazing man that has ever walked the earth. It does, however, come with a ridiculously large crush that could rival one of a teenage girls.

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

It was the annual Sidemen Christmas party, where drinks are flowing and conversations are blooming across Bez's house. You had been invited as a plus one, the invite obviously coming from James. You don't know how he had been invited but assumed it was through the help of Will.

As you enter the house, thick coat wrapped tightly around your shivering body, you scan the open planned house in search for the man of the hour.

Your eyes sweep the crowd, finally landing on him. A bright light that moves through the crowd lands on James at just the right moment, mid laugh and wearing the gorgeous jumper of his. You weave your way through the crowd, sorry's leaving your mouth as you accidently bump into people.

Just before you reach him, a voice pulls you out of your focus, eyes leaving James' figure to turn to the culprit.

"Hiya darling! Haven't seen you in a minute!" Faith. An angel sent from heaven that ended up with a nonce. You love Faith, you really do. Her timing, however, could be better. This isn't the first time she has interrupted your path to James and certainly wont be the last.

"Faith?! Long time no see?"

"I could ask you the same! Thought you vanished off the face of the Earth." Faith enthusiastically yells over the music, her smiles shining with a level of brightness that even the sun couldn't rival.

"Not vanished—just... hiding from scenes like this." You say, eyes looking beyond Faiths shoulder

"And yet here you are, in the middle of one."

"I got dragged. Blackmailed. Tricked with promises of good music and free drinks."

"Whoever did that deserves a thank-you card. It's really good to see you."

"It is really good to see you was well darling, but I have to go find James. But I will be back to talk in a bit, yeah?"

You walk off in search for James again, and again - like magic - he appears in a gap between the crowd. A smile appears on his face, looking down at someone who you can not see.

Shuffling through the crowd, you finally make it to him, however as you turn around a sight you never expected to see happened.

He was kissing a girl.

Not just regular, fun kiss. Full make-out session in the corner of Faith's mansion.

Your heart sunk, falling to the bottom of your stomach. You didn't want to look but you couldn't pull yourself away from the sight of it. The man you loved and cared for most in this world was kissing another girl.

Its hard, though. You couldn't be mad at him, I mean how could you, he isn't yours. This realisation came rushing at you at full force, he wasn't yours and he did not want you back.

Blinking tears away from your eyes, you leave, running away from your problems like always. The elevator to you right dinged as people got off from coming back from upstairs. You run to the door, entering the elevator and pressing the top floor, the rooftop sounds like a perfect place to be to cry your heart out, doesn't it?

The elevator dings as it reaches the rooftop. The doors open to a beautiful scene, fairy lights scattered across the railing of the roof and a beautiful outside lounge set to complete the cozy atmosphere. You pick one of the chairs to sit on and let it all out, every emotion you have ever held towards James coming out in a streaming trail of tears and cries.

After a while, you finally compose yourself, whipping your tear stained cheeks and breathing in a deep sigh. Suddenly, the ding of the elevator sounds, bringing you out of your state entirely, reminding you where exactly you are.

Heavy boots pad towards where you are sitting and all of a sudden James head appears from around the corner.

"Hey," He says, cautiously walking towards you. "Is everything okay? I saw you for a second then you completely disappeared?"

"No everything is not fine, James". You turn to face him, standing up to try to be on his level. Regadless of your height, you still had to crane your neck to look this man in the eyes. "I am going to be honest with you now because I have held this in for too long its taking over me."

James looks into your eyes concerned, his expression reassuring you that no matter what you revealed to him, that you were there for him.

"I like you, James. A lot actually, and I can't keep going on like this and holding it from you, when I saw you kissing that girl I knew that what i thought was real wasn't and I just needed a moment to process what happened and-"

"Woah, slow down" He cuts you off, stepping closer to you. "You like me?"

"Yeah, I have for a while now"

His eyes move over your face, taking in every detail of it. You stand in silence, just looking at each other, breaths in time with the others.

"For the love of god James, say something" You look up at him stepping closer, hands going to his chest to try and snap him out of whatever trance he had been put under.

His hands move to your cheeks, cupping them and pulling you closer. A breath is stolen from you as he moved closer, his eyes searching yours for answers.

"I'm so glad you feel the same"

He moves slow, his mouth coming to yours at a pace that felt both too quick but too slow. The second contact was made, feelings you didn't kow you expressed for James erupted with in you. Magic would be the only real word to describe the feelings you felt.

His mouth moves against yours in an angelic way, gentle but desperate, like he had been waiting just as long for this moment. His thumbs brush over your cheeks, grounding you, as his lips mold to yours: soft, certain, and full of every unsaid thing lingering between you.

The world feels quiet, time slowing to nothing but the steady rhythm of your heart thudding wildly in your chest. His lips move in perfect sync with yours, tentative at first, then deepening as the walls finally crumble between you both.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against yours, his breath uneven, eyes flickering between your gaze and your lips. "I’ve been an idiot, haven’t I?" he murmurs, his voice rough around the edges but laced with relief.

You manage a small, breathless laugh, hands still pressed to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms. "The biggest," you whisper, a teasing smile curling at the edges of your lips.

James chuckles softly, his hands trailing down to your waist, anchoring you there. "Guess I’m lucky you put up with me anyway."

His eyes soften, and without another word, he leans in again—this time with no hesitation, no questions, just the undeniable certainty that this moment, this feeling, was real.

An Angel had truly made this man because god all-mighty, he was perfect.

note: thank you to @mcgarrets-world for the ask!! this is my first fan fic i have ever written, so i hope you like it y'all! please let me know if anyone would like any more in the future. I currently have one in the works but god knows when that will be out. hope everyone has a good day/night! much love

[mistakesandtragedies]

Off the Record - James Marriott

description - late night music writing, friends to lovers, slowburn, confessions of love, reader x James.

warnings - none

It starts, like most things with James, with a joke.

“You’re not even listening,” he says, leaning back in his studio chair with the dramatic flair of a man half-expecting applause for existing. His fingers tap idly against his mug—lukewarm tea, because he always forgets to drink it when he’s in a creative spiral.

“I was listening,” you lie.

“You were watching my mouth move like it was a podcast.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Your mouth is basically a podcast.”

James smirks, trying to hide how pleased he is. “Flattery won’t save you now.”

The two of you had gotten used to this rhythm—midnight writing sessions that started out as serious “creative meetings” and always ended in chaotic banter, stolen snacks, and music drafts that neither of you were brave enough to finish. You were helping with lyrics tonight, or at least that was the excuse.

He spins in his chair slowly, eyeing you. “Why do you always come back here? I’m not paying you.”

“Because,” you say, leaning forward just a little, “I like seeing you panic over every line you write.”

“I don’t panic,” he says. “I just…care deeply.”

“You called your last verse ‘a bin fire with a guitar solo.’”

He points at you. “And that, my friend, is artistic honesty.”

There’s a long pause after that—one of those quiet, charged moments that tends to sneak up on the both of you when the laughter fades. The dim studio lights paint a soft halo around him. His hoodie is pulled over his head, curls poking out messily, and you wonder if he knows how much softer he looks when he’s not performing.

“You ever think about writing something…not for content?” you ask. “Something just for you?”

James is quiet for a second too long. Then, with a shrug, he murmurs, “Maybe I already am.”

You glance at the laptop screen—just out of view, a folder labeled with your initials.

You pretend you don’t see it.

For now.

————————————

It’s nearly 2 AM when you suggest it.

“Let’s record the demo properly,” you say, pushing aside a half-eaten bag of crisps and sitting up straighter. “No more mumbling into the mic like you’re scared of it.”

James blinks. “I’m not scared of it.”

“You’re whispering like you’re confessing to a crime.”

“Maybe I am.”

You grin. He doesn’t. Or rather—he tries not to. There’s that flicker of a smile, betraying the way you get to him, the way you always do. You don’t even seem to notice.

He gets up to adjust the mic, still barefoot, the hem of his hoodie swaying as he moves. His hair is a mess, his voice is hoarse from talking too much, and he’s never looked more like himself.

You sit cross-legged on the floor, watching him through half-lidded eyes. “You know,” you say slowly, “if you spent half as much time recording as you do flirting—”

“Flirting?” he chokes.

You raise a brow. “You don’t think telling me I ‘have the voice of a fallen angel’ counts?”

He fumbles. “That wasn’t flirting, that was…constructive feedback.”

“Mmm. Right. Very professional of you.”

James runs a hand through his hair and exhales through a laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re obvious,” you say, casually, not even looking at him. Just tossing the words out like confetti.

His mouth opens. Closes.

There’s a long pause.

Then, quietly, “Is that a bad thing?”

You finally look up, heart thudding in your chest like it’s trying to escape. But you don’t let it show. Instead, you smile, easy and infuriating. “Not yet.”

He doesn’t say anything after that. But when he finally starts singing—really singing—it’s not for the demo. It’s not even for the song.

It’s for you.

————————————

The song's looping quietly in the background—just an instrumental now, soft piano and threads of guitar humming through the studio. It’s past 3 AM, and the adrenaline’s worn off, leaving a sleepy kind of honesty in its place.

You’re lying on the studio couch, feet propped on the armrest, phone forgotten on your chest. James is sitting on the floor beside you, arms resting on his knees, head tilted back against the couch cushion. You can’t see his face, not fully. But you hear his voice.

“I don’t think I’m good at this,” he murmurs.

You glance at him. “At what? Music?”

“No. At…letting people in.” His voice is quiet, almost like he’s testing the words on his tongue. “I always make it a joke first. Before anyone can see that I mean it.”

You stay quiet. Not because you don’t know what to say—but because you know he needs the silence to keep going.

“And then you showed up,” he says, still not looking at you, “and you just—didn’t buy any of it. You called me out, but you stayed. You always stay.”

You turn your head slightly toward him, your chest tightening. “Of course I stay.”

He breathes in deep, exhales slow. “Yeah, but I don’t make it easy.”

You give a soft laugh. “You really don’t.”

James finally looks up at you then—tired eyes, messy hair, guarded expression cracking at the edges. “But you’re still here.”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I am.”

He swallows hard. “I think that’s the problem.”

Your brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

He hesitates. Then, without warning—without fanfare—he says it:

“Because every time you stay, I fall for you a little more.”

Silence.

You sit up slowly, your heartbeat loud in your ears. “James…”

He shakes his head, a humorless laugh slipping out. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—well. I did. But I wasn’t gonna say it like that.”

Your hand finds his on instinct. He tenses, then relaxes into it.

“I knew,” you say softly. “I think I knew.”

He looks up at you again, eyes searching.

“And?” he asks, barely above a whisper.

You squeeze his hand. “I was just waiting for you to admit it.”

————————————

The confession hangs in the air between you, like static before a storm. It should feel surreal—something this important slipping out in a moment so quiet, so simple. But it doesn’t. It feels inevitable.

James is watching you, waiting. Not pushing. Just there—barely breathing, like moving too fast might make you vanish.

You shift closer on the couch, knees brushing. “You didn’t ruin anything,” you say, voice low.

His gaze flicks to your lips for just a second. “I think I’ve been wanting to say it for months.”

You smile, the kind that breaks in the middle. “I think I’ve been waiting for it for just as long.”

Another pause. The air thick with unspoken things. Then:

“Okay,” he whispers, so softly you almost miss it. “Can I—?”

You don’t let him finish.

You lean in first—slow, certain, letting your forehead rest against his for a second. His breath hitches, fingers tightening slightly in yours.

And then you kiss him.

It’s not dramatic. It’s not rushed. It’s careful—like the both of you know exactly how much this means. His hand finds your cheek, warm and tentative, and yours settles at the base of his neck, where his hoodie gives way to skin.

He tastes like tea and too many late nights. Like something you’ve wanted for so long, you almost forgot how to ask for it.

When you finally pull away, your noses still brushing, James exhales a shaky laugh.

“Okay,” he says again, dazed and smiling. “So…yeah. That happened.”

You press your forehead to his. “That finally happened.”

He grins. “Worth the wait.”

You laugh, and somewhere in the background, the looped track keeps playing—soft guitar, steady rhythm.

And for once, neither of you rushes to turn it off.

[stargirlbabies]

Little trailer for the fanfic I might write about james marriott lmk if I should continue

Shout out to @backtotheold-house for giving me a bit of confidence

[souredgrape]

Fake a** Friends

George Clarke x (Fem)reader

WC: 4.1k

Synopsis: in a tight knit group of friends, there’s always one bad egg. However she just can’t seem to let her obsession with a certain man go. The same man you’ve liked for years.

Warning: bullying behaviour. Swearing. Obsessive behaviour. Alcoholism. Smoking. Willne being the no.1 wingman. James being himself.

Sitting in your living room, you were helping Rebecca do her roots, apparently the hairdresser was closed. So you ‘had to do it’ , as she had said. For the past hour you had been listening to her ranting about all the boys she’d be dating recently. You were exhausted. Both of your phones pinged simultaneously, an alert from the group chat. Rebecca looked.

“It’s Georgie!” She squealed, unlocking her phone. “Oh my god he’s invited us all out tonight!” You hummed in response to her loud voice.

“Where?” You asked, pinning up the last of her bleached hair.

“Uhm an Italian restaurant, he’s sent the address. Then he said drinks afterwards. Everyone is gonna be there.” Rebecca told you, replying to him in a sickly way then tossing her phone onto the couch. “I gotta look hot.” She said, looking right at you. “I know you probably don’t own anything sexy, so we can go to mine when you’re ready yeah?” The slight dig was nothing new to you, so you just nod, telling her how long she had on her hair. “I have to wear red, oh and it has to be tight. I need him to ogle me all night.” Rebecca smiled to herself, daydreaming about George like she did most days.

“What about Dan?” You questioned, reminding her of a man she’d been on a date with that week. Rebecca just rolled her eyes, hitting your arm playfully.

“That’s just fun. George is the man I want. And I know he wants me to.” She was so confident. You gave a fake smile, ignoring your own sadness. Because she was probably right. You’d had a stupid crush on him for a while, but you were nothing compared to her. She was curvy in all the right places, a blonde with bright green eyes, her lips and lashes were done. It’s what most guys wanted nowadays.

Whilst she was washing out the bleach, you hunted through your wardrobe, trying to find something nice for the evening. You wandered why you were even trying. With a sigh, you pulled out a dress, looking at it before putting it back. Then you spied a new item you had recently bought. A short black, leather skirt. Yeah, that could work. To go with it you pulled out a long sleeve, off the shoulder top in a colour that would compliment the leather well. Getting dressed, you looked in the mirror, the skirt hugged your hips, the top was tight to your figure too. It was part classy, but nice enough to know you were going out. With this, you put on your boots, tying up the laces when Rebecca came out of the bathroom. She looked you up and down with amusement before shaking her head.

“Do your make up at mine?” It was more of a demand than a question, but you nod nonetheless. “You look adorable by the way.” Rebecca smiled patronisingly.

———

At Rebecca’s house, you were sat at her dresser, applying your makeup carefully.

“How about this?” Rebecca came into the room wearing a fitted, short red dress. It left little to the imagination, with her breasts hanging out and her ass peaking out the bottom. You thought maybe it was a little too revealing for dinner but, if she was happy.

“Yeah it’s nice.” Rebecca scoffed at your compliment, applying a little more red lipstick.

“Nice? It’s not just nice, I look amazing.” She looked over. “Pink eyeshadow? Really?” She asked, looking at you critically. You frowned, holding the brush midair. Letting out a soft breath, you finished off your make up and sat waiting for her. Rebecca was doing a thick Smokey eye, a bold red lip. A little too much for a casual Thursday. But who were you to judge? It took over an hour but she finally finished and you both began walking into town. Rebecca stopped just outside the restaurant, pulling out her perfume and proceeding to spray herself far too many times. You coughed, stepping back. “Oh stop being so dramatic. It’s just vanilla.” She rolled her eyes before walking inside, you following shortly behind. A waiter lead you both to a table in the window, where George was sat with another two mutual friends. Rebecca rushed over. “Hi guys!” She squealed. The group looked up, wincing slightly. George stood, getting out of the booth and giving Rebecca a polite hug in greeting.

“Hey, you’re late.” He chuckled, helping her to sit down in his previous seat. You stood there awkwardly for a moment.

“Well look at me, this takes time you know?” Rebecca swished her hair right in Wills face. George turned to you with a smile, swiftly pulling you into a hug as well. You hugged back, relaxing, all the tension that had built up over the day just faded away.

“You okay?” He asked quietly, not pulling away just yet. You hummed, nodding slowly. George looked at you unconvinced, but let it go and guided you to sit on the seat opposite to the others. He slid in beside you, handing you a menu then retrieving his drink.

“Why aren’t you sat next to me Georgie?” Rebecca asked with a pout, making Will and your other friend, Lisa, look at her funny. George hardly looked up from his menu.

“I’m comfortable here thanks.” You could see that she was annoyed, and you opted to look at the food options as well. “See, should I be really boring and get pizza, or step it up a notch and get the-“ he paused, pursing his lips “-Brand-…brandacujun…” you laughed at his poor pronunciation.

“What is it?” You moved a bit closer, following his finger to where he was looking.

“Dried cod and potato’s.” He drawled, glancing at you with a knowing look. “I’m getting pizza.” You both laughed. Shaking your head, you sat back and placed your menu down.

“I’m probably gonna get the tomato pasta.” You said, getting a nod of approval from Will opposite you.

“Are you finally trying to bulk?” Rebecca questioned. You turned to her confused. “You’ve just gotten really thin lately, that’s all.” She shrugged, whilst you sat there a little shocked. Instead of replying, you checked your phone, not noticing the shared look of disapproval from Will and George.

A waiter had brought your drinks and food, now everyone sat eating quietly. The only noticeable noise was Rebecca’s long nails clicking her phone aggressively. George looked up from his Pizza.

“Who are you talking to? You’re gonna break your phone screen.” He laughed a bit, gaining the tables attention. You put your fork down, wiping your lips free of tomato sauce.

“Oh uh, no one.” Rebecca quickly put her phone away.

“Oh I see, boyfriend?” George wiggled his brows but was met with a deep scowl from the girl opposite.

“As if! I only have eyes for one man!” She declared. You rolled your eyes, wondering if anyone believed her lies. Will leant over, talking into her ear quietly. “Shut up! That’s not true!” Rebecca yelled with anger, slapping Will on the shoulder rather harshly. However Will just chuckled at that, before looking at you. Confused, you tilted your head but he just shook his head in dismissal. George sat back, his arm resting on the back of the booth behind you. You froze slightly, unsure of what to do. Rebecca was glaring daggers at you.

“Ignore her.” George muttered, tossing his used napkin on his plate. Letting out a breath, you rested back, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I like your outfit.” He grinned, shocking you slightly. Gazing up at the man, you blushed slightly.

“Thank you.” You replied sheepishly, playing with the rings on your fingers, causing George to notice. He shifted closer, gently touching the ring on your index finger. It was a simple silver band with a black stone in the centre.

“This is nice.”

“It was my mums.” You clarified with a smile. George simpered, the hand that was on the booth, coming to rest on your shoulder.

“You’re coming for drinks next right? We’re going to that pub that’s just been done up, booked us a table so we’ll definitely have a seat.” George knew of your anxiety, clearly trying his best to persuade you. And it worked because you found yourself nodding. “Good, I’ll make sure you’re sat next to me.” It was as if he were protecting you, but you weren’t sure why.

“Fuck off Will!” Rebecca suddenly shouted, making everyone look at them. The Geordie put his hands up in surrender.

“Stop saying that shit then.” He shot back. You were confused, but Lisa asked for the bill before you could question anything. Her boyfriend was on his way, she’d said so just before the food arrived. The bill was split and everyone got up ready to leave. George took your hand, helping you down from the higher booth. However, he kept your hand in his grasp as your little group began walking down the street. He looked down at you with a cheeky grin.

“This is fine right?” You nod softly, inching just a little closer. Up ahead, Rebecca looked back at you with a look so cold it almost made you flinch. Instinctively, you tightened your hold on George’s hand, which he noticed and tugged you towards him.

Will cheered as the pub came into view, and Lisa ran up to her boyfriend happily. When you went inside, George gave his name and you were lead to a table in the back, by a lit fire. It was cosy, the seat against the wall being cushioned, the chairs opposite mahogany. Quickly, George ushered you into the side against the wall, slipping in beside you. Will sat across from you again, letting out a quiet groan when Rebecca took the space on the other side of George. Lisa’s boyfriend was clearly confused, sitting by Will and listening to the man as he told him something under his breath. You watched them with furrowed brows, wanting to know what the issue was.

“I’ll go to the bar, anyone wanna help me?” Lisa asked hopefully, Will piped up quickly.

“Rebecca will.” She looked at him annoyed but got up and went regardless. You took the chance to lean forward.

“What’s going on?” You questioned lowly. Will shared a look with George.

“She’s getting on our nerves. She’s obsessed with George, it’s fuckin’ creepy man.” He explained. You sat back slowly, looking around for a moment. “Don’t tell us you didn’t know?” Will scoffed with amusement.

“No I know she has a crush on him.” You said, tapping your nails against the wooden table. “I guess I just thought the feeling was mutual.” You admitted, looking from Will to George. He raised his brows in surprise.

“Oh my god, she’s got no chance.” Will laughed, as if it was the most obvious thing to say.

“What?”

“(Y/n), she’s insane.” George looked right at you trying not to laugh.

“Yeah but she’s pretty.” All three of the men sat there started laughing, your eyes widening.

“She’s fake, and toxic. A new man every week. Her lips are about to pop. She’s not pretty, she’s plastic.” George shook his head as he spoke. “And she had the nerve to comment on your body? Ridiculous.” You went a little red, looking down at yourself for a second. “Does she always say things like that?” He turned to you, and you went very quiet. George looked deep into your eyes, but you couldn’t respond as the girls came back with drinks. Your silence was your answer though. Taking your drink, you sipped on the straw, deciding that the fire was more interesting to look at now. Rebecca was being very giggly, moving insanely close to George. It was clear he was uncomfortable. You frowned, sitting forward and watching them interact for a second.

“(Y/n).” Will spoke quietly, gaining your attention. “He doesn’t want her.” He whispered, taking a drink of his beer. You stared at him, trying to read between the lines.

“I’m going for a vape, anyone coming?” No one responded to Rebecca, so she looked at you. “(Y/n)? You’ll come with me.” It was more of a demand than a question. Unmoved, you shook your head firmly. Her jaw tightened, as she left out the back door in a huff.

“Why does she smell like a coffee?” George wafted his hand around in the air. You giggled slightly, turning towards him again.

“A hundred sprays of Kayali.”

“Oh it’s vile.” He shivered, then smiled at you. “Are you cold? You’ve got goosebumps.” He noticed, gently touching your shoulder. You shrugged softly.

“I’ll be fine. Old pubs are cold.” George hummed at what you said, but still, he moved forward and wrapped his arm around you. You went stiff for a moment, but allowed yourself to relax. They were finally starting to notice that Rebecca really wasn’t that nice. So, maybe you could allow yourself to enjoy this treatment. When you finally leant against George’s chest, and picked up your drink, finally just relaxed, the man was beaming. Will gave him a nod of approval, clicking their beer glasses together. George gave your waist a gently squeeze as you all settled into a comfortable conversation.

———

“-no that was James not me!” Will breathed in defiance, the rest of the table laughing at him.

“No im pretty sure you’re the one who stood there blushing like an idiot.” George cackled, his fingers tracing idle lines on your side.

“One, I was not blushing, two, he called me babe!” Will exasperated, finishing his beer off.

“I dunno man, I say you both just kiss and get it over with.” When George said that, Will gave him a very pointed look.

“You can’t talk.” The two men looked at each other challengingly for a while. Lisa shook her head and you both giggled. Coming back from the bathroom, Lisa’s boyfriend took a seat and said.

“Rebecca is still in the beer garden. She’s chatting with some forty year old bloke?” He let the group know, but you weren’t surprised in the slightest. Placing your empty glass down, you sighed.

“Maybe she bumped into Dan.”

“Who’s Dan?” Lisa asked, standing and picking up your glass.

“Her hinge date from last week. He’s like thirty eight. Seems lovely though. She giggles every time he texts…” you trailed off, realising that Rebecca most likely had very real feelings for the older man, she just didn’t know it herself.

“That’s great for her.” George said.

“It is, but she’s so caught up in fancying you that I don’t think she knows.” Will made a noise of agreement at what you said, and George pouted slightly.

“You’ve gotta prove to her that you’re off limits.” Will decided whilst getting up to help Lisa. George, thinking deeply, rested his chin on your shoulder. You didn’t flinch, but you did smile and let yourself admire his side profile. You always thought he had pretty eyes.

“I think I can do that.” He mumbled, looking around the pub. “You don’t mind if we pop out for a smoke break do you mate?” George looked across at the man who was carefully watching his girlfriend at the bar.

“‘Course not. Go ahead.” With a grin, George pulled you up and guided you towards the front door of the pub, out into the brisk night air.

“You don’t smoke? Neither do I?” You were understandably confused. He walked forward, sitting himself on the brick wall that surrounded the building. You stood in front of him, his hair slightly messed up from where he kept playing with it. Naturally, you reached out and fixed it.

“I know, just wanted to talk to you.” George confessed, placing his hands on your waist and tugging you to stand between his legs. You blushed, but kept calm and looked down at him. “You never answered me, when I asked if Rebecca always spoke to you like that?” He pressed gently, thumb moving against your side tenderly. Wetting your lips, you avoided his blue eyes like the plague.

“Yeah, sometimes.” You let out, but he wasn’t surprised in the slightest.

“What does she say?”

“Lots of things.” You scoffed, tucking your hair behind your ears. “It’s usually just patronising shit. Like saying I look adorable or that I just don’t understand because I’ve never had a boyfriend.” George stared up at you intently, subtly drawing you in. “Or that I’m unattractive. You know, men don’t like girls like me, stuff like that.”

“That’s a lie.” He said matter of factly, catching you off guard. When your eyes met again, he let out a small sigh. “She’s such a bitch.”

“She’s our friend George.” You reasoned but he just frowned.

“I don’t want friends like her, that constantly bring you down. That leech off of us and think they’re better than us.” He brought you closer, if possible. “She has the chance to be happy with that man she’s with. Let her figure it out.” George kept his eyes on you as he spoke. You knew he was right, but you still felt a little bad for her. Noticing your mood, George swiftly pulled you down into his embrace. You melted, hugging back immediately. Your arms wound around his neck, burying your face in alongside. Somehow, George guided you to perch on his thigh, his hand rubbing up and down your back. You both stayed like that for a moment, the drama of the table forgotten, not even the cold was bothering you now. He pulled back from the hug, just a little, looking at you with a soft smile.

“What?”

“You’re just pretty.” George smirked, your cheeks warming in a flash. Cupping your cheek, he tilted your chin down, bringing your face just centimetres from his own. Suddenly you felt as though you knew exactly what Will was trying to tell you earlier. Your breath caught in your throat as he slowly leant in. Meeting him half way, you pressed your lips to his, any apprehension you had fizzling away. The kiss was soft and timid at first, testing the waters. It was clear very quickly that you both wanted what was happening, however. George deepened the kiss, his fingers threading through your hair carefully, bringing you flush against him. When you parted, your foreheads rested together, quiet giggles shared between you.

“Think that’ll show her I’m not interested?” George asked smugly, a small scoff escaping you.

“Yeah maybe just a bit.” His thumb stroked your cheek tenderly.

“But you know I like you right?”

“I kinda just got that…” you admitted, leaning into his larger hand, enjoying the warmth.

“Guess I’ll just have to keep showing you.” George mumble before kissing you once more. It was laced with confidence, lips moving together with passion and understanding. His hold on you was tight, kissing you with purpose. The outside world was a blur now, the noise of the night completely fading out. A deep cough unfortunately broke your trance. When you looked up, you were both surprised to see James looking down at you.

“Hey guys.” He had a shit-eating grin. “Will texted and said he felt like a third wheel, which was confusing at first but uh-“ he looked between you. “-I get it now.” James laughed. You were blushing badly, resorting to hiding your face against George’s shoulder as you both stood up.

“Yeah yeah, eat it up, go on.” George was laughing too, but he was also a little red. “Come on, we’ll take you to your lover.”

“You do not get to tease me when you were making out in the middle of the street!” James exclaimed, following behind you and George, who was still chuckling to himself. You clung onto his arm, smiling. Back at the table, everyone was now sat there, even Rebecca. You stood there anxiously, watching Will and James hug and sit down next to each other. George looked at Rebecca.

“Can you let us pass?” He asked politely, as she looked up at him with her bright green eyes.

“I’m sure you can squeeze past me Georgie.” She cooed, not making any effort to move.

“Rebecca, move.” George tugged you closer, clearly getting annoyed. She huffed, getting up to let you both into the seats. George went first, which you were happy about as you didn’t want him next to her. As you passed, Rebecca let her foot stick out, just enough for you to tumble over it. George was quick to react, catching you under the arms and pulling you next to him. “How old are you? Five?” He wrapped his arm around your waist, hand resting on your hip protectively. Rebecca watched, brows furrowed and jaw clenched whilst she sat beside you. Deciding to ignore her, you leant against George and sipped on your fresh drink.

A bit of time passed with little issue, just a few short glares from the blonde. George was extra clingy, but you loved it. His arms were constantly around your middle, his head resting on your shoulder, face sometimes nuzzling your neck. You’d never felt more content in public. For the most of it, you’d been wrapped up in conversation with James for the past twenty minutes, Will and George watching you both fondly. It was nice. To put it simply.

“He looks like a lovesick puppy.” James chortled, pointing at George. Will nod in agreement, putting his pint down.

“Yeah look at ‘im, pining after her.” You blushed at his words, messing with your straw.

“Don’t go shy on us now, you were literally kissing in front of the whole street.” James smirked, causing Will to gasp.

“They did! Fucking finally man. Do you know how long I’ve been listening to him talk about her?”

“Right there’s no need to call me out like that!” George sputtered, a small smile on his lips. You couldn’t help but giggle, finding it endearing. “I could get right back at you and you know it.”

“You wouldn’t.” Will looked worried. James looked confused.

“What? There’s a new girl you’re into?” The tall man asked lowly.

“Actually it’s-“

“Don’t you fucking dare man.” Will cut him off with haste and you quickly caught on, starting to laugh. George beamed, leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. You pulled a face.

“Beer.”

“Oh sorry I don’t drink sparkly strawberry drinks like you.” He chuckled, poking your nose softly. You simpered, leaning into him and resting your head on his chest with a content sigh.

“That’s it. I’m leaving.” Rebecca declared, standing up and making the table rock. Everyone looked at her with bewilderment. She turned to you, rage clouding her vision. “You’re such a fake friend, you know that (y/n)?”

“What?” You said, frowning. She laughed falsely, downing the rest of her drink before slamming the glass down.

“You knew I liked him and yet you went behind my back and got with him! You’re such a whore!” Your heart sank at her worlds, mouth going a little dry. Everyone on the table looked at the girl as if she had two heads. George turned you away from her, his arms encasing you protectively.

“Just go. We won’t miss you.” He spat, not even bothering to look at her. Rebecca gaped, not expecting such a cold response from him.

“Y’ never had a chance man.” Will laughed, waving at her with a cocky grin. With an infuriated screech, Rebecca turned and stormed out of the pub. Everyone sat there silently for a moment, before a feeling of calm washed over the table. “Thank fuck for that.” Will spoke first, and everyone laughed a little. Even you.

“You okay?” George asked, running his fingers through your hair. You nod, letting out a breath and feeling yourself relax. “I think we should block her.”

“I’m with you on that, let her be happy with her dilf.” Will decided, pulling his phone out already. You giggled at your friends, their support warming you inside. George kissed your head softly, returning you both to your original position. Everyone around you was so positive, Will had your back the whole night. James was ecstatic to see you with George, even if he did tease you. And George was attached to you now. It was perfect. He even took your phone, blocking Rebecca from your socials. You did hope she’d be happy, in the end. Either way, you were pretty happy with how things were heading. <3

[octaneink]

‘Cause I'm alive when I feel you pressed up to my side

James Marriot x Fem!Reader

Summary : James simps through music Warnings : None (Unless you count me writing James as a sap) Notes : I saw the pictures taken by vap0rize_ on TikTok and my mind spiraled. I am so sorry if this is out of character for James. It is also based on a song called Happy Slides by Daily J!

The sun had barely crested the horizon as James stared out of the dust-splattered window of the tour bus with a notebook and pen in hand, his heart once again feeling heavier than the luggage stored beneath him. The vast, warm and bright expanse of the Australian motorway stretched before him, a stark contrast to the cosy flat in Brighton he'd left behind in the UK with the girl who'd captured his heart. The quiet hum of the engine had been his lullaby for days, a deafening contrast to the music he performed and the roars of crowds at each event.

The band members were scattered throughout the bus. Jago knocked out on one of the chairs with a pair of eye masks and ear plugs on, Matt and Jono individually flipped through well-worn dog-eared pages of books. Sam sat quietly moving his fingers on his guitar, mindful of making any noise, and Lou sat at the wheel.

James tapped his pen on the book, the page made looked like it had more things crossed out rather than actually containing legible words. The most recognisable being ‘song for you’, which made him think. Would you see it as cheesy? Would you even want a song dedicated to you? The both of you had only been officially dating for five months, slowly dancing around each other for eight, and been friends for two years. Was he coming on too strong?

Huffing, he flipped back a few pages to where the lyrics began. His pen hovered over the words, lightly tracing the lines he'd scribbled down weeks ago late in the night. The words bringing memories that held a warmth that bloomed deep within his chest, a melody of a time he struggled to capture at the moment. 

The words were created weeks ago before James left for his newest tour. Harsh winds shaking the bins under the window of their shared flat. The flat itself was warm, cosy, with a strong smell of aromatics as his girlfriend cooked their last meal they’d share for a while, and the occasional meow from Otto. James smiled softly and stared adoringly at her as every time the cat meowed, she’d respond in return, pretending to hold a conversation with him. 

He felt like a disgusting sap every time he thought about anything that was related to her. Her infectious laughter, and how the way her smile had a way of reaching into his very being — where one look, he’d melt, any stress he’d feel before having magically disappear. In the small, shared space, she had become more — his muse.

The pages fluttered as he flicked through them, revealing a photo of the three of them taped to the inside cover of the notebook. It was a Polaroid, peeling at the edges, the tape lifting as James did this for the 3rd time when he got a new notebook. She was cuddling Otto in her arms, while he had one of his arms around her waist. She faced the camera, eyes squinting slightly, with smile lines sprouted from them, while he looked at her with an utterly lovestruck expression it made his head hurt. Before her, he didn’t know he could look at anyone like that.

James blinked back to the warm tour bus as he read the words again. “Let's never leave this room.” he mouthed to himself, the memory of her voice echoing in his mind. The three lines on the page had come to him as naturally as her smile had stolen his heart—unexpected, unassuming, and utterly captivating. 

Though, he struggled to complete the piece. 

“James, you okay, mate?” Lou, peered at him through the rearview mirror, his eyes bleary with the remnants of last night's sleep and today’s early rise.

James looked up, his gae lingering on the horizon. “Yea mate, just tired.” he answered.

Lou nodded, the minutes pass between them in silence, then the bus lurched suddenly. “Shite.” Lou spat, turning the indicator to merge safely into the hard shoulder. The engine thwapping through the way, before it gave one last, loud, thwap and sputtered to a halt. 

The sudden silence was jarring, and the lads looked at one another with a mixture of shock and annoyance. 

“Bloody tour bus.” Matt muttered from the back, breaking the silence, and a round of groans and complaints ensued.

“Right,” he said as the others started to get up, “I’ll sit somewhere and keep out of the way. I doubt I would be of any help.” Noises of agreement bid him goodbye as he walked out of the tour bus with what he had on hand. As he walked away from it, he placed the pen as a bookmark and closed the notebook with an audible snap. Then, walking over the short metal fence, he sat on it facing the bush. 

A few minutes passed of him mindlessly humming an imaginary tune, then his mind raced with a sudden spark of inspiration. He knew he had to write it down it before it slipped away. He turned back to his notebook, the lyrics that had once felt so elusive now flowed from his pen like a river released from its dam.

The words picked up from the picture of their lives together in Brighton—the way the light hit their living room when she drank her morning cup, the sound of her socked feet on the wooden floor as she danced around Otto, who chased the cat toy in her hand playfully. 

As the bus sat there, a silent sentinel on the side of the road, James wrote until his hand cramped. He didn’t notice the passing cars, the sun rising higher in the sky, or the sound of his bandmates talking with a stranger about the breakdown. The only thing that mattered at that moment was the symphony of words that played out on the page before him.

Finally, with the sound of a distant tow truck approaching, he scribbled down the last word, with the tune clearer in his mind, he smiled broadly staring down at it. 

In the back, the driver of the tow truck climbed out, a burly man with an interesting hair cut and a kind smile. “Looks like you’ve got a loose fan belt, lads. We’ll have you sorted in no time.”

James nodded absently, his mind still lost in the world he’d just created in his notebook. As the band members moved to stand by him, and with the mechanic tinkering away, he remained seated on the metal fence, the song becoming clearer and clearer as the moments passed by. 

Humming the tune absent-mindedly and tapping the pen on his thigh as the beat caught the attention of Jogo. He looked over silently at James’ notebook, reading the words on it, a smile slowly started to spread across his face, “You fucking sap.” 

James startled, looking over him and seeing Jogo’s smug smile. James rolled his eyes. 

“What do you mean by that?” James replied, playing it off as if he wasn’t aware of what he had done.

Jogo snickered. “Don't play dumb with me. You've got hearts in your eyes and her name paraphrased multiple times all over your page.”

James felt his cheeks warm, and he quickly slapped the notebook shut. “It's just a song.”

The band members, having heard the exchange, gathered around curiously. “What's he got?” Matt asked, peering over Jogo's shoulder.

Jogo pointed the notebook out. “Looks like James here is feeling romantic. And he's been keeping it from us.”

James rolled his eyes again, “It's just an idea. Nothing serious.”

But the excitement on their face was palpable. “Come on, man,” Sam said, clapping him on the back, “Don't hold out on us. What's the new tune?”

With a sigh, James realised he couldn’t keep it from them any longer. He'd written it for her, but he didn’t expect the others to know of it so soon. “Okay,” he said, “But if it's shit, you can't laugh.”

The guys chuckled and stood closer around him, expression eager. He began to hum softly, the pen tapping on his thigh with a beat, then he took a deep breath and began to sing.

As melody grew, filling the surrounding space, and their eyes lit up as they recognised the potential. “That's a hit, James!” Jono said, clapping his hands.

James felt his cheeks flush under their praise. “It's just the start, really. Nothing special yet.”

But their enthusiasm was infectious, and each of them asked questions on what part they fit into as they drove off in the newly fixed tour bus. And as they pulled up to the new hotel near the venue they would play the night, Lou said “We'll make it something special, mate.” said with a grin, already tapping the rhythm on the steering wheel of the bus.

So, every night before they went on stage, they'd gather around on the stage, dim lights as production set up around them. James with his guitar, Sam with his bass, Jago with the drums, Lou with the keys, Matt and Jono on their guitars. They'd play around with the melody, adding bits and pieces, turning James' quiet confession into something that could shake people’s hearts.

The song grew into something that didn't just belong to James any more, but to all of them. It was a piece of their collective heart, a love letter to a girl they hadn't met but knew well through James' stories.

The days leading up to the last concert were a whirlwind of rehearsals and whispers. The band dropped hints to their eager fans through social media, building anticipation. Edits on TikTok popped up with a silhouette of James and his guitar, with the words 'Surprise at the end??' were in bold in the video’s descriptions. Many fans not in Australia called for the last concert to be streamed illegally. As for the people that were there, they were vibrating with excitement as the date grew closer. 

The hours before the last concert, James sat in the hotel room, his heart racing as he went over the lyrics for the final time. He could hear the muffled sounds of the city outside, but all he could see was her face, imagining her reaction to this song. He hoped it would reach her in Brighton, that she'd feel the same way he felt when he wrote it—alive.

As the sun set on the last day of their tour, the band's nerves were palpable. They'd been playing together for a while, but this was different. This song was personal, a secret shared with a crowd of strangers. The venue was packed, the lights were hot, and the air was thick with anticipation. The crowd roared as they took the stage, and James looked out into the sea of faces.

The setlist flew by, each song a stepping stone to the grand finale. The energy built, and the crowd sang along to their favorites, their voices a symphony of love and longing that echoed through the speakers. 

And then it was time. 

The stage went dark. A single spotlight fell on the band, and Jogo started the song with his drums, teasing a quiet introduction. The rest waited, their instruments poised, ready to bring the song to life.

The crowd, once lively, was silent, holding their breath for James to start singing. 

As they played, James couldn't help but think of her, her laugh, her smell, the way she'd look at him when he played her his favourite tunes. He sang with every ounce of his soul, hoping she could feel it, hoping she knew it was for her. And as the last chord rang out and the applause erupted, he knew he had given her a piece of himself that no one else could ever claim.

The aftermath of the show was a blur. 

One moment he was on stage singing his heart out for the world to see, then he was in the quiet hotel room, luggage packed for his return home in the morning. 

He picked up his phone, his thumb hovering over her number. He'd call her when the dust settled, when he could finally hear his heartbeat without the deafening applause. He had so much to say, so much to tell her about the journey this song had taken him on. But for now, he leaned back in the bed and closed his eyes, the echoes of the music still playing in his ears, a promise of what was to come when he finally returned home.

The flight home was a blur of airport terminals, screaming people, and sleeplessness, but the moment his feet touched the ground in London Gatwick, his tiredness evaporated. He took the earliest train, then a cab straight to their flat. It was late, and the lights were on when he arrived.

He knew she'd be waiting.

James placed the key into the lock, turning the key and stepped through the door. He removed his shoes, put on some slippers and took of his coat, hanging it up by the door. Then he walked into the livingroom. He saw her, curled up on the sofa with Otto in her arms. 

She looked up, her eyes lighting up when she saw him, and for a moment, he forgot all about the tour, the bus breakdown, the song. They rushed into each other's arms, and everything felt right again.

“Welcome home.” he hugged her tighter, “We missed you.”

He pressed a kiss on her head, “I missed you both too.” 

James moved them so they sat at the sofa, limbs intertwined “You have no idea how much I missed you.”

She smiled mischeviously up at him “Oh, I think I may have an idea.” pecked him on the lips “I think everyone online has an idea.”

James felt his cheeks redden slightly “Well, it's not like I was keeping it a secret or anything...”

They both laughed, and she cuddled closer into him, her head resting on his chest as they sat on the sofa. Otto jumped up and nestled in between them, purring contentedly.

“But seriously, James, it's beautiful. Thank you.” she said, her voice filled with genuine admiration.

He kissed the top of her head, and they sat there watching the tv “It's true, you know.” he said, looking at her.

Her eyes sparkled with happiness as she looked up at him, then she leaned in to press a lingering kiss to his lips. “I know.” she murmured, smiling. James puled her tighter to his side as her next words left her lips, “Let's never leave this room. What do you say? ‘Cause I'm alive when I feel you pressed up to my side”

I will say it with full CHEST, when I saw those pictures taken by vap0rize_.... IT WAS OVER

I HAD NO THOUGHTS LEFT

I felt absolutely filthy I had to make something cute to make up for it. I hope I hit the mark!

On another note this is the song that inspired this fic. Idk how to make it smaller 😞

[despairat6oclock]

Espresso Hearts

Synopsis: an artist and musician who finds comfort in a stranger's silence.

fem! Reader x James Marriott

Word Count: 890~

Contains: Fluff

Warnings: none really

[m.list]

The soft settle glow of the sun painted a perfect picturesque scene as it fluttered through the coffee shop windows.

The golden light casting perfectly across the wooden floors of the shop. The shop was less crowded than usual at this hour, giving the chance to actually acquire a seat and get some work done.

On his daily coffee run, James took his time walking down the path to his favorite coffee shop. The sky had just the perfect amount of clouds that painted the perfect backdrop without it being too chilly.

A soft hum of amusement evaporated against James’ vocal cords at the sight of a not so clustered shop at this hour.

With his laptop, and small pocket book, James was now grateful he had packed the two mediums; maybe he could find some inspiration.

And maybe that inspiration was perched inside a corner also searching for the same.

Ordering his usual, fingers tapping against the counter top as he waits for his drink, James takes a look around.

Majority of the shop's tiny booths were filled, with a few empty scattered around James would have to settle with. Unless.

Lounging beside the window, the sun perfectly highlighting her like she was a beacon he was always meant to find.

Mindlessly sketching inside a leather bound notebook, hair pulled back into a loose ponytail with a few strands hanging out and a sweater the color of green leafs in springs.

With his iced coffee in hand, James makes his way over to the enticing women in the far corner.

“Excuse me... I was wondering if I could sit here? Just for a few minutes.” James pips up, nerves igniting within him.

“Go ahead” was just a soft mutter from between her lips, nothing more and nothing less. Not even a glance at him.

The chair screeching against the floor it's dragged upon, James sat directly across from her. Eyes not so secretly appearing down onto the pages of abstract lines and void of color. Besides her was a half drinking plastic cup of matcha and a barely touched espresso glass that had a perfect peachy lipstick stain.

Pulling out his own notebook and laptop, James took this opportunity to revise some lyrics that had been racking his brain.

Minutes tick by so quickly, that half an hour had gone and both barely moved a muscle or breathed a word. The music of a pencil rough against parchment led James' eyes to the women's notebook once again.

The lines that had seemed to lead nowhere was now a perfect contracted top-half of a person. With an oddly familiar pair of glasses and disheveled hair, and the same tuff on the collar of the jacket as James wore.

She must have felt James staring, as her eyes worked their way up to his as they gazed down at her work.

Her hand spreads out across the paper, each digit attempting to hide what was already seen.

“I'm James”

His smile held a charismatic charm he was unaware he had.

“Y/N”

She answered with a simple nod, her voice the same soft pitch as before.

James' smile never flatters as he presses save on his document and focuses back onto her.

“You come here often?”

“Some mornings after a run,” Chewing her bottom lip as her eyes don't know where to land. “And you?”

“Most days, it's a part of my little morning routine.”

Gesturing towards the scene of the notebook and laptop laid before him with her chin, “What are you working on?”

“A song”

“You're a musician?”

“Mhm.”

Seeming to take it in with a nod, “Can I hear something of yours?”

Trying to play off the heat that rises onto his cheeks, pulling out some earbuds before offering one to her.

“Here uh…”

Palms clammy as he pulls up an audio file that starts playing a bit too loud. Causing both to wince as James hurried to lower the volume.

“Sorry sorry!”

Awkwardly chuckling while he intensely observed her. Each small head movement and quite hum a criticism he mentally wrote down.

“You're really good”

“Really?” Stumbling over his syllables as he quickly takes back the earbuds she was gesturing over.

A nod as she folds over a ribbon onto her sketch and closes its cover, “Do you release it on anything?”

“Just the normal platforms” he coughed, fingers tracing the lines and indents of his cup’s lid.

Looking out the window, the sun intensified the shine of her eyes as she watched the traffic go by.

“Would you like to do this again?” With a tilt of her head as she glanced over James’ face.

With a gulp of nerves and a flutter in his chest, “Y-yeah, love to.”

Tearing off a piece of napkin her now empty espresso sat upon, scribbling down an array of numbers.

“Call me” she smiled, her tone an octave louder with a dose of confidence.

Sliding the corner of paper to the man across from her, before settling her belongings into a small drawstring bag.

“See you.” James forced out as she moved out of her seat.

Walking by, hand delicately ghosting against his shoulder as she walked past towards the door. Nothing more than a fantom of a touch, one that closely mimics the growing feeling within his chest.

[4ngelrealm]

𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧౨ৎ

UKYT

playing dangerous, g.clarke it's our trope, g.clarke (coming soon) cat parents, w.lenney party 4 u, c.dixon handsy, a.frederick tell me you love me and mean it, g. clarke

NHL

karma, n.hischier

F1

look at my girl, l.norris (coming soon)

OTHERS...

favorite game, d.matthews (coming soon)

*feel free to request any that are coming soon

[cherryy-slushy]

SAY IT WITH ME.

I love james Marriott. I love James Marriott. I love James Marriott. I love James Marriott. I love James Marriott. I love James Marriott. I love James Marriott. I love James Marriott. I love James Marriott. I love James Marriott. I love James Marriott. I love James Marriott. I love James Marriott. I love James Marriott. I love James Marriott. I love James Marriott.

[breezy141]

NOT LIKE THE REST - james marriott masterlist

mention of self-doubt, insecure reader :( i hope you all know you’re absolutely gorgeous and deserve all the love in the world. THIS IS LONG !!

the beat of the music ran thought out the large party venue, with every step you felt the music beneath your feet. accidentally, you felt yourself bumping into people; muttering an apology loud enough for them to hear.

you didn’t exactly want to come but, your boyfriend had invited you out; you didn’t want to say no because he was excited to see all of his friends in one gathering. there was even an opportunity they would play his music through the speakers.

so, you kept to yourself and drifted from corner to corner. james, your boyfriend, was off conversating with whoever he laid eyes on. he was a sweet soul, never afraid to talk to anyone, he was open to chitchat about anything and everything.

you had assured james that you would be completely okay on your own, getting a glass of coke every so often from the open bar was your way of making yourself feel comfortable. of course, you had seen many of your friends but you were the awkward type, the type to slip from a conversation whenever possible.

it wasn’t intentional, you were just scared.

while looking around the venue, totally unaware of your surroundings, you barged into someone. “oi! watch it, love” you didn’t recognise the voice at all, nonetheless you spun around and apologised profusely.

“i-i’m so sorry; i didn’t see you” the random bloke frowned at you and laughed “maybe if you paid more attention it wouldn’t have happened” he said before linking arms with the lady attached to his side, and walking away.

due to the interaction it filled you with a certain uneasy feeling, you felt extremely anxious. the type of anxious that made you feel queasy, the type that made you bite your lips in those certain places, the type of anxious that made you pick at the skin around your nails.

breathing out deeply, you headed in the direction of where your boyfriend said he would be. on the way, you had ensured you never took your eyes off the people around you.

as you approached the cozy seating area you seemed to stop in your tracks, you watched as you saw many pretty, gorgeous women sat around. they weren’t just any ol’ women, they were stunning!

perfect symmetry, amazing facial harmony, an hour glass figure you so desperately envied, you watched as they all laughed so sweetly, they laughed at everything; annoying or not it didn’t matter. it sounded like a sweet melody.

completely stopping in your tracks, your hands subconsciously moved to your exposed stomach. covering it, but then you remembered your thighs. god not them, you thought to yourself. i bet they don’t have big thighs.

of course they didn’t, why would they.

cutting james some slack, it’s not like it was just him surrounded by these women. it was him and his closest friends, will, mikey etc. but either way, it felt like someone had just punched you in the gut.

you felt horrible, it wasn’t his fault you felt this way. james has done nothing but show you constant love and affection, he praised the ground you walked on, he always made sure you were okay and felt loved.

trying to go unnoticed; you slipped between the crowd and found a wall to sit and sob at. your cry wasn’t one of those pretty girl cries, it was one full of emotion, tears, sweat and sadness. using the sleeves of your small top you wiped your eyes smudging the amount of eye makeup you had plastered on, in hopes of masking your true features.

james never understood why you did so, you were so so beautiful. yes, beautiful. the kind of beautiful that made you outshine every woman in existence to him. it wasn’t just your stunning looks that did it, it was your personality. yes you were shy, but he knew what you were like.

he knew you loved dancing to his music in the kitchen, he knew you loved to make him laugh whenever you thought he was off, he knew you cared about every little creature that roamed this earth, he knew YOU. and that’s all that matters.

even though you tried, will had noticed your saddened and teary eyes before you took off, he nudged james. to which he stood up immediately, not even saying his goodbyes.

after every tear you could muster up had left your body, james’ found you. leaning against the wall, staring into a lake. your head in your hand. he walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“talk to me” is all he said, in such a sweet but nervous tone. turning around to face him, his heart broke. the mascara was no longer exentuating your eyelashes, it had fallen onto your cheeks. your lips were puffy, and your eyebrows were furrowed. you said nothing but fell into his chest.

your arms hugged one another, and your head lay in a certain position where you could hear his heartbeat. which admittedly, was going ten to the dozen.

“let’s go home” he took your hand in his and lead you back to a hotel where you two were staying for the night.

-

“i wish i was like them” you whimpered out, james head snapped towards you. he had put his phone down and came to sit next to you on the bed.

“like who?” he wrapped his arm around your waist and leaned into your gently.

“them girls” he struggled to know who you were on about, but soon figured it out. “baby they ar-” he was about to start until you interrupted him.

“they were so pretty. perfect everything, why can’t i have that? since i was younger i’ve alway tried to be better. be prettier. they looked at you so..so adoring. like they know they could steal you away in moments. i honestly wouldn’t blame them for thinking that. i mean, look at you; then look at me. i’m nothing compared to them. i have marks all over me, i have annoying freckles, i have scars. i hate it. why would you choose me..me out of everyone”

with every word it broke him, how could you think this? he wished you could see yourself through his eyes.

“i would choose you, again and again and again, in every life time. id choose you because i love you, and everything that you come with. your freckles aren’t annoying, they stunning, little do you know every night i kiss as many as i can” you looked up at him.

“yeah, and your scars? well they tell a story, a story many others can’t compare too. you are unique, and unique is better then fitting in. did you notice how those women looked the same, like the complete same. i mean like clones of each other, like out of fuckin star wars or somethin” you giggled a little from his comment.

“you, y/n, are amazing. you stand out from the crowd. no one else looks like you, and that’s a good thing. i have someone who is better then every other woman existence, you look like no other, you act like no other. you are you and id never change that for the world”

by the end, you were a teary mess, with your arms around his neck giving him the tightest hug you could. you repeated ‘i love you’ about a million times before he cut you off with a sweet kiss, one you both smiled into.

•••

REMEMBER!! you are all beautiful and deserve the world. i love you all, have a wonderful day, night, evening wherever you are 💌

[limbsmarriott]

Whenever you’re ready

~Angst/ fluff~

TW- Mentions of poor mental health !!

It was just after ten when James found you on the fire escape again, legs dangling over the edge like you were testing gravity. The city buzzed below, distant and indifferent, while your thoughts ran louder than traffic. You didn’t look at him when he opened the window, but you didn’t flinch either. That was something.

"Didn't think you'd be out here tonight," he said, voice soft, like he was afraid the wrong tone might tip you off the ledge- even if only metaphorically.

You shrugged. "Hard to sleep when your brain won’t shut up."

James sat beside you, knees pulled to his chest. He didn’t press you, didn’t ask what thoughts were keeping you hostage. He’d learned not to rush silence.

Instead, he offered you half of his hoodie sleeve. "Here. Snot privileges granted. One-time offer."

You gave a half-smile. Fragile, tired, but real. And James, who noticed everything, counted it as a win. You took the sleeve with a quiet laugh, wiping your nose without shame. James always had a way of making you feel like you didn’t have to hide the messy parts. Not your cracked voice, not your puffy eyes, not even the thoughts you were still too afraid to say out loud.

“I brought snacks,” he added, like it was some grand peace offering. “And by ‘snacks’ I mean two granola bars and a very squished banana.”

You turned your head, meeting his eyes for the first time that night. There was a softness there, something unspoken that hovered in the space between you like steam from a mug left untouched.

“Wow,” you said dryly. “You really know how to spoil a girl.”

He grinned, and for a second, everything felt lighter. “Only the best for you.”

Your heart did that annoying thing again- skipped like a scratched record, because he always said stuff like that. Light-hearted. Casual. But there was a weight to it tonight. Maybe it was the way he was looking at you, like he wanted to say more but didn’t know if he had permission. And truthfully, you weren’t sure if you were ready to hear it. Not when your mind had been so cruel to you lately. Not when you were still trying to remember how to breathe without it hurting. Still, you leaned your head against his shoulder, just enough to feel the warmth of him.

“I hate this,” you whispered. “I hate how my brain lies to me. Makes me feel like I’m broken.”

James was quiet for a moment. Then he tilted his head, resting his cheek gently against your hair.

“You’re not broken,” he said. “You’re just tired from holding yourself together for too long.”

You closed your eyes. And in that moment- surrounded by sirens, stars, and someone who saw you even when you didn’t want to be seen, you started to believe him.

The silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. James had a way of making space feel safe, like the quiet wasn’t a void but a place to rest. He didn’t shift or fidget, just sat with you, the two of you tucked into a corner of the world that didn’t ask anything of you for once. You felt the words stirring long before they found their way out.

“I didn’t think I’d make it through last week,” you said, barely above a whisper. “I smiled at people. I said I was fine. But I was just… barely holding on. Every day felt like I was walking through mud with weights tied to my chest.”

James didn’t speak right away, and somehow that made it easier to keep going.

“I kept thinking… what if I just disappear? Would it even matter? Would anyone notice? I know that sounds selfish or dramatic or whatever, but it’s just…” Your voice broke, and you didn’t bother to hide it this time. “It’s so heavy, James. And I’m so tired.”

You felt his arm shift behind you, gentle and slow, wrapping around your shoulders without pulling you in too tightly. Just enough that you knew you weren’t alone.

“Hey,” he said quietly, the kind of quiet that comes with care, not fear. “I’d notice. Of course I’d notice.”

You swallowed hard, staring out at the lights bleeding into the night sky.

“I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want you to look at me differently.”

“I don’t,” he said immediately. “I just look at you and wish I could carry some of it for you.”

You turned your head just slightly, and he looked at you like he meant every word.

“Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

Your chest ached in a different way now- one that had nothing to do with sadness and everything to do with the way James saw you. Not as broken. Not as a burden. Just… you. And somehow, that was enough.

“I think I’m ready to try,” you said, voice trembling but true. “But I might need you to remind me. A lot.”

He smiled, small but steady. “Good thing I’m annoyingly persistent.”

You laughed through the tears. And this time, when his hand found yours, you didn’t let go.

The city below kept moving. Cars humming, windows glowing, lives unfolding. But up on that fire escape, time had slowed, like the universe had carved out this moment just for the two of you.

James didn’t let go of your hand. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, a small, absent movement, like he was trying to ground you. Or maybe himself. Neither of you said anything for a long while, and for once, that didn’t make you anxious. There was comfort in the quiet, in the shared air and heartbeat proximity.

“I get scared, too,” he said eventually. His voice was low, almost like he wasn’t sure he should say it. “Not in the same way, maybe. But sometimes I feel like if I let people see all the parts of me, the messier ones, they’ll… I don’t know. Leave.”

You turned to him, surprised. James always seemed like he had it together- steady, warm, unshakable. But now his jaw was tight, and his eyes were fixed on a point far away, like he was confessing to the night itself.

“Even with you,” he added quietly. “Sometimes I’m afraid I’ll say the wrong thing. Or not say enough. And I’ll lose… this.”

You squeezed his hand. “You couldn’t lose me. Not like that.”

He glanced at you then, the tiniest flicker of hope in his eyes, like your words were something he’d been waiting to hear but didn’t think he deserved.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” you said. “How we can be surrounded by people but still feel completely alone. And then one person shows up and suddenly… things don’t feel so impossible.”

James nodded, and his voice was thick when he spoke. “You make things feel less heavy. Even when you’re hurting.”

You looked down at your joined hands. It was such a small thing, fingers tangled together, but it felt monumental. Like something sacred had passed between you, unspoken but deeply understood.

“I don’t want to be a weight to you,” you whispered.

“You’re not,” he said, fiercely. “You’re not a weight. You’re someone I care about. A lot. And if all I can do is sit with you on rooftops and hold your hand through the hard parts, then I’ll do that. As long as it takes.”

Your throat tightened, emotion rising like a tide you couldn’t hold back. So instead of speaking, you leaned into him again, this time fully, your head pressed to his chest. He wrapped both arms around you, holding you like something fragile and precious. Like you mattered. And in his heartbeat- steady, patient, there just for you- you started to believe that maybe healing didn’t mean fixing everything. Maybe it just meant being held through the storm.

The wind shifted, brushing against your skin with that early spring chill- soft but biting. You stayed curled into James, his warmth anchoring you in the moment, but your mind tugged elsewhere. You’d been quiet for a few minutes, your body still, but James could tell something was shifting. He didn’t rush you. He never did. When you finally spoke, it came out as a whisper, the words catching on the edge of your breath.

“I almost did something last night.”

James stiffened slightly beside you- not pulling away, but more alert now, every part of him listening.

“I was sitting in the shower. Lights off. Just… crying. For hours, I think. Everything in me hurt. Not just in my head, but like my body was too tired to keep going. And I kept thinking, maybe if I just… stopped trying. Let the water keep running until it was all quiet. It felt like the kindest option.”

You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. The shame rose like smoke, thick and cloying.

“I didn’t want to die, not exactly,” you added quickly. “I just… didn’t want to be anymore. Not like this.”

The silence that followed wasn’t peaceful this time- it was heavy, electric. James’s arm around you had gone rigid, his grip on your hand tighter than before. When you finally dared to glance up at him, his expression was raw- eyes glassy, jaw clenched tight. Not angry. Not at you. But scared in a way you’d never seen on his face before.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he asked, voice low, hoarse. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to scare you,” you said, tears rising again. “And I didn’t think it would matter. I thought… maybe I’d just sleep it off and pretend it was fine again.”

His breath caught, and he pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes like he was trying to physically push the emotion back down.

“It does matter,” he said, voice cracking. “You matter. God, I…”

He cut himself off, swallowed hard. You could see the way he was trying to hold it together, and it broke something in you to know you’d hurt him by keeping it all in.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

James turned to you, gently taking your face in both hands so you had to look at him. His eyes searched yours, and for a second it felt like he was trying to memorise every line, every flicker of pain.

“You don’t ever have to go through that alone again,” he said, voice trembling. “I don’t care what time it is, I don’t care if you think it’s stupid or too much- I want to be there. Even if all I can do is sit in the dark with you.”

You nodded, tears falling freely now. Not from fear this time, but from the way his words felt like shelter- solid and real. James leaned his forehead against yours, still holding your face like it was the most important thing in the world.

“I almost lost you and I didn’t even know it,” he whispered. “Please don’t shut me out like that again.”

“I won’t,” you said, your voice shaking. “I promise.”

And as you sat there in the cold with his arms around you, your pain still real but no longer invisible, you realised- sometimes love doesn’t arrive with fireworks or grand gestures. Sometimes it’s just someone refusing to let you drown in the silence. James was quiet again, but it wasn’t the same silence as before. This one felt heavier, like he was holding something back- not from you, but from himself.

You leaned into his shoulder, eyes still damp. “What is it?” you asked gently. “You’re somewhere else.”

He exhaled slowly, like he was working up the nerve to pull something out from a place he rarely touched.

“There was this night,” he said, after a long pause, “back when I was sixteen. My mum and I had this huge fight. One of those stupid blow-ups where everything gets said all at once. And afterward, I just... walked out. Didn’t even take my phone.”

You stayed still, letting him speak.

“I ended up on this overpass. Just stood there, watching the cars. No plan, no intention. But my head... it was loud. Loud in a way I’d never felt before. I remember thinking, ‘No one would even know I was gone until morning.’” He gave a bitter, breathless laugh. “And that thought didn’t scare me… it felt like relief.”

You turned to him slowly. He wasn't looking at you. His eyes were somewhere far away, locked on a memory he rarely let surface.

“What stopped you?” you asked.

He was quiet for a moment.

“There was this guy,” he said. “Stranger. Probably mid-twenties. He just… stood next to me. Didn’t say anything at first. Then he offered me a sandwich.” James smiled faintly, but there was sadness in it. “Just said, ‘Figured you could use something real to hold onto.’”

You felt your throat tighten.

“That stupid sandwich. I didn’t even eat it. But it was enough to pull me back.” He finally looked at you, his eyes shining. “And after that, I promised myself, if I ever saw someone I cared about standing on that edge, even if it was only in their head, I’d be the one with the sandwich.”

A shaky laugh broke through your tears. “I can’t believe you just emotionally devastated me and made me want a sandwich.”

He chuckled softly, brushing his thumb along your cheek to wipe away a tear. “Sorry. I know it’s a lot.”

“No,” you said, pressing your hand over his. “Thank you for telling me.”

James looked at you then- really looked- and there was something fragile in his expression. Not fear. Not regret. Just honesty. Shared pain. That quiet, raw understanding that maybe, just maybe, neither of you had to carry everything alone anymore.

“You’re not the only one who’s had those nights,” he said. “You’re not alone. Not in this. Not ever again.”

And in that moment, two souls stitched together by silence and storms, you realised that what he was offering wasn’t just comfort. It was himself.

The night air had gone colder, but neither of you noticed. You were still sitting close, limbs tangled in quiet trust. After everything that had been shared, your breaking point, his own brush with the edge, it felt like something had shifted between you. Not just in words, but in the way he looked at you now. Like he wasn’t just seeing your pain. He was seeing you. You rested your head back against his shoulder, heart still thudding with the weight of everything, but steadier now. Safer.

“Thank you for telling me about that night,” you murmured.

James tilted his head toward you. “I’ve never told anyone before,” he admitted. “Didn’t think I ever would.”

“Why me?”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, softly “Because you matter to me. In ways I don’t think I’ve let myself say out loud.”

You lifted your head just slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. There was a vulnerability there that mirrored your own from earlier- raw, unguarded.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice almost too soft to hear.

James let out a breath that felt like it had been trapped for years.

“I mean… I think about you. All the time. Even when you’re not around, you’re there. In my head, in the way I look for excuses to text you stupid things, in the songs I skip because they remind me too much of you.”

Your heart skipped. There it was- just a glimpse, not a confession, but more than friendship could contain.

He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit. “But I didn’t want to push. Not when I knew you were struggling. Not when you needed space to heal, not pressure.”

You sat up a little, enough to really see him. His posture was tense, but his face was open, like he wasn’t hiding anymore.

“I never felt pressured by you,” you said quietly. “Only… held. In a way no one else ever has.”

James gave a small, aching smile. “That’s all I ever wanted. For you to feel safe. Even if I have to bite my tongue sometimes.”

There was a long pause. The kind of silence that felt alive with everything unsaid.

“I think about you too, you know,” you whispered, your voice barely holding itself together.

His eyes flicked to yours again. Hopeful, surprised, but still cautious. Like he was standing at the edge of something he wasn’t sure he was allowed to reach for yet. You reached out, lacing your fingers through his once more.

“Not ready to say it yet,” you said gently. “But I’m not scared of it anymore.”

James nodded, eyes softening.

“I can wait,” he said, squeezing your hand. “I’m really good at waiting for the right things.”

And so you sat there, tired hearts pressed close, unspoken feelings lingering in the quiet. But this time, the silence didn’t ache. It promised.

The night stretched on, the city slowly dimming as the hours slipped toward dawn. The sky above you had begun to shift, inky black giving way to a soft, bruised blue. The kind of colour that only exists right before the light comes back.

You and James hadn’t spoken in a while. You didn’t need to. His shoulder was a steady place to rest, his hand still wrapped around yours like he had no intention of letting go. The fire escape, once a place you went to disappear, now felt like the safest corner of the world. You watched the horizon quietly, your breath rising in pale clouds.

“I never thought I’d see a morning like this again,” you murmured.

James didn’t answer right away. He simply turned, gaze warm, like the sunrise had found its way into his eyes.

“I’m glad you stayed to see it.”

You looked at him then, really looked. Sleep-tousled hair, tired eyes rimmed with worry and something softer, deeper. He looked like someone who’d carried you without complaint. Someone who’d waited at the edge, not to save you, but to hold your hand as you came back to yourself. The air between you hummed, quiet and electric.

You didn’t plan it. You didn’t think about it. You just leaned forward, heart thudding painfully loud in your chest, and pressed your lips to his. It was brief. Gentle. The kind of kiss that wasn’t meant to declare anything, but simply be a thank you, a promise, a breath of warmth in the cold morning air. When you pulled back, you found him watching you like you’d just given him something sacred.

“I thought we weren’t ready,” he whispered, almost like he didn’t trust his own voice.

You gave him a soft, tired smile.

“We’re not,” you said. “But maybe... we’re allowed to hope anyway.”

James smiled back, forehead resting gently against yours.

“Hope looks good on you.”

And there, as the first light of morning spilled over the rooftops, painting you both in something golden and fragile, you let yourself believe, for the first time in a long time, that maybe healing didn’t mean being whole again. Maybe it just meant having someone who knew how to sit with you in the dark, and stay long enough to watch the sun rise.

—————————————————————————————————

A James fic for all the James girlies! I also apologise for yet another angst! Some of this is based on a true event from issues I have personally experienced. Remember someone is always here to listen and help you. You are never alone and you are loved!

Tags-

@themdera

@tyna-19

[mistakesandtragedies]

The Static Between Us - James Marriott X Will Lenney’s Sister

Title: Static Between Us
Genre: YouTube RPF, Romance, Slow Burn, Secret Love, Angst with Fluff
POV: 3rd Person Limited (mostly from Will’s sister’s perspective)

Warnings: none

Chapter 1: The Reunion

The group chat had been chaotic for weeks. Every five minutes, someone was sending cursed memes or half-baked plans for the weekend, most of which were promptly ignored. But somehow, against all odds and flaky YouTuber schedules, it all came together.

Will’s house was full of noise—laughter, clinking bottles, the occasional screech of a chair dragging across the hardwood. His sister leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping her drink and quietly watching the chaos unfold. She didn’t know all of them that well—George she’d met a couple times, Jack seemed nice, and there was someone else she hadn’t seen yet. Someone she definitely knew.

She didn’t want to seem weird about it, but James Marriott had a very specific energy in his videos—brooding, dark humor, weirdly hot in a way she’d never admit to her brother. Seeing him in person was… jarring. Taller than she expected. Quieter. Something about the way he stood just outside the main circle, observing before jumping in, made her stomach buzz.

And then he looked at her.

Not like a full-on stare—just a glance, a flicker of eye contact—but it was enough to make her immediately look away and pretend to read the ingredients on a bottle of lemonade.

“You good?” Will asked, suddenly appearing at her side. He looked exhausted already and the night had barely started.

She shrugged. “Yeah. Just people-watching. Your friends are feral.”

Will snorted. “They’re not my friends when they start wrestling in the living room. You’re the one who wanted to come.”

She rolled her eyes. “I wanted a night off. I didn’t know it’d be WWE: Creator Edition.”

Will laughed and wandered off, distracted by whatever fresh chaos was happening. She was about to disappear upstairs to take a breather when someone cleared their throat behind her.

“You survived the kitchen invasion,” came a deep voice, dry and slightly amused.

She turned around and there he was—James. Hoodie sleeves pushed up, drink in hand, looking effortlessly disheveled.

“Barely,” she said, trying not to sound breathless. “I was considering retreating to the pantry.”

“That’s where the true introverts hide.”

She smiled. “Good to know. I’ll set up camp there next time.”

They stood in silence for a second. Not awkward, exactly—more like… charged.

“I’m James, by the way,” he said, holding out a hand.

“I know,” she replied before she could stop herself, and then immediately wanted to dissolve into the floor. “I mean—I’ve seen your videos. Will talks about you.”

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “All good things, I hope?”

She hesitated. “Mostly. He said you once made a three-minute video out of spite.”

He looked proud. “Ah. The classic.”

And just like that, the tension eased a little. He didn’t seem thrown off, and neither was she—at least, not visibly. But inside? Chaos. Full system reboot.

They kept talking, and the party around them blurred into static. James asked about what she did, what she liked, if she’d always been into music or if it was just a phase. His voice was low, steady, like everything he said was half a secret. She didn’t notice how close they’d drifted until someone yelled for a group photo and the spell broke.

As everyone gathered in the living room, she caught James glancing at her again. Not obviously. Not enough for anyone else to notice.

But she did.

And later that night, lying in the guest room staring at the ceiling, she couldn’t stop thinking about the way his voice dipped when he said her name, or how his fingers brushed hers when they reached for the same bottle of water.

It didn’t mean anything.

Probably.

Chapter 2: Side Glances

Morning came in with grey skies and the smell of burnt toast. Someone—probably Jack—had decided to make breakfast and clearly did not possess the necessary skills. Will’s sister padded downstairs in an old hoodie, still half-asleep, trying to avoid making direct eye contact with anyone until she’d had caffeine.

James was already in the kitchen, of course. Hair messy. Hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands. Mug in one hand, phone in the other, leaning against the counter like he hadn’t just haunted her dreams all night.

“Morning,” he said, without looking up.

“Hey,” she replied, voice scratchy from sleep.

She grabbed a mug and started pouring herself some coffee, pretending like her hands weren’t slightly shaking. She hadn’t stopped thinking about their conversation from the night before. Every line replayed itself in her head like a voice memo on loop. Every little glance. Every pause.

“You survived the pantry-free sleeping arrangement?” James asked, giving her a half-smile.

“Barely,” she said. “No emotional support snacks.”

He chuckled into his mug, then nodded toward the table. “We’re doing the kind of breakfast where no one’s really awake enough to speak, if you’re interested.”

“I live for that vibe,” she said, following him over.

The rest of the table was a zombie lineup. Will was scrolling his phone with one eye open. George was slumped against the wall. Jack was happily munching on something vaguely resembling toast and humming to himself. No one really spoke, and she was grateful for it.

Except James kept catching her eye.

Little things. Like when someone made a joke and he’d look to see if she was laughing. Or when their hands brushed again, and neither of them pulled away quite fast enough. He didn’t say much, but his presence was constant. She could feel him without even looking.

Will didn’t notice. Too tired. Too distracted. Which was good, because she didn’t even know how to explain it—this thing that wasn’t a thing. Not really.

Later, when the weather cleared up, they all went for a walk through the woods near Will’s place. James ended up walking beside her without planning to, just slightly ahead sometimes, like he didn’t want to be too obvious. He made sarcastic comments under his breath. She laughed more than she should’ve.

At one point, someone behind them tripped, and everyone turned around. She didn’t see who it was—because James instinctively reached for her arm, steadying her before she could stumble too.

It was a quick touch. Casual. Probably nothing.

But her heart didn’t get the memo.

They kept walking.

And when James looked over his shoulder at her a few minutes later, eyes soft, lip twitching into the smallest smile—

Yeah.

She was in trouble.

Chapter 3: Late-Night Talks

The house was quiet in that strange post-party way—like all the energy had burned out and now everyone was recovering in their own little corners. Will had passed out on the sofa mid-FIFA game, Jack was upstairs editing, and George had muttered something about a Discord call and vanished into the Wi-Fi void.

She couldn’t sleep.

Maybe it was the caffeine. Maybe it was the fact that every time she closed her eyes, she saw him—the way he looked at her like he knew something she didn’t. Like he was waiting.

She grabbed a hoodie and tiptoed downstairs. The garden door was open just slightly, letting in a breeze that carried the faint scent of smoke.

He was out there.

James stood near the back of the garden, leaning against the railing of the deck, cigarette between his fingers, face lit faintly by the glow of his phone screen. His hoodie was zipped up to his chin, and for a second, he didn’t notice her.

Then he turned.

“Oh,” he said, surprised but not startled. “Can’t sleep?”

She shook her head, hugging the sleeves of her hoodie. “Too much going on up here.” She tapped her temple, then hesitated. “Mind if I join?”

He gestured to the spot beside him. “Garden insomnia club’s open to new members.”

She stepped out onto the deck, the cool air biting at her skin, but it felt nice. Calmer. They stood there in silence for a moment, the smoke curling lazily in the air between them.

“Didn’t peg you as a smoker,” she said softly.

James glanced down at the cigarette like he’d forgotten it was there. “Just now and then. When the brain won’t shut up.”

She nodded. “Relatable.”

He exhaled slowly, not looking at her. “You’re not what I expected.”

That caught her off guard. “What do you mean?”

“I dunno,” he said. “Will’s always been very… Will. Loud. Fast. Unfiltered. I assumed his sister would be the same. But you’re—”

He paused, searching for the right word. She turned toward him slightly, curious.

“Quieter,” he finally said. “Not in a bad way. Just… I dunno. You listen before you talk. You notice things.”

Her heart did that annoying stutter-step thing again. “I think I’m just better at blending in than standing out.”

James looked at her then—really looked at her. “You’re not exactly blending in.”

It hung in the air between them, soft and unexpected. She didn’t know what to say to that, so she just stared at her shoes for a minute.

Then he said, quieter, “I’ve been trying not to be weird.”

She blinked. “Weird how?”

James flicked the ash off the cigarette. “I don’t know. It’s just… you’re Will’s sister. There’s a whole unwritten rulebook about that, isn’t there?”

Her chest tightened. “Do you think he’d care?”

James gave a humorless laugh. “Will? Absolutely.”

There was something about the way he said it that made her heart sink. Not because he was wrong—but because it meant he’d already thought about it. Which meant he’d already considered the thing she hadn’t even dared say out loud.

“I just don’t want to screw up the dynamic,” he added. “Not sure he’d be thrilled if I started getting… distracted.”

“Are you distracted?” she asked before she could stop herself.

He looked at her again. This time, the silence stretched.

“Yeah,” he said.

Just that. One word. No follow-up. No clarification. But it was enough to leave her breathless.

The cigarette burned down to the filter. He stubbed it out on the edge of the railing and tossed it in the bin.

“I should get some sleep,” he said, voice a little rougher now. “You coming in?”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just… a minute.”

He paused like he might say something else, then turned and disappeared into the house.

She stayed outside, heart pounding, air cold against her cheeks.

Distracted.

So was she.

So badly it hurt.

Chapter 4: Glitches

The next day was slow. That lazy, in-between kind of day where no one really wanted to leave but also no one knew what to do. Will had resorted to organizing a makeshift “content brainstorming session” just to keep people from melting into the sofa.

It was chaos. Someone suggested fake beef. Someone else tried to pitch a mukbang but got shouted down. James just sat on the armrest of a chair, sipping tea and quietly roasting everyone in the group chat.

Will’s sister stayed quiet for most of it, half-listening, half-scrolling through her camera roll. She hadn’t realized how many random pictures she’d taken the night before—some blurry, some candid. She was halfway through deleting duplicates when she hit play on a video she didn’t remember taking.

And there it was.

A 12-second clip. Just a quiet pan across the living room, probably from when she’d been recording something dumb. But her phone had lingered—just long enough to catch James in the background.

He was looking at her.

Not just looking—watching. Everyone else was laughing, distracted, but James was focused, eyes soft, jaw tense like he was thinking something he didn’t want to say out loud. It wasn’t performative. It wasn’t exaggerated. It was... real.

She held her breath as she watched it again.

And again.

And a fourth time, because she hated herself.

Then she did what any self-respecting emotionally confused person would do: she deleted it. Immediately. No backup. No cloud. Just—gone.

And of course, as soon as she did, regret hit her like a freight train.

“Everything alright?” James said quietly beside her, and she jumped.

“Jesus—sorry,” she laughed awkwardly, locking her phone like it was holding national secrets. “Yeah. Fine.”

James raised an eyebrow, not buying it, but didn’t press. Instead, he leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head. “You looked deep in thought. Existential crisis, or just regretting your life choices?”

“Little bit of both,” she muttered.

He smiled.

And then Will called out, “Oi, lovebirds, we filming or what?”

She froze.

James didn’t.

Without missing a beat, he rolled his eyes and shot back, “You wish, mate.”

The group laughed. She didn’t. Her heart was hammering too loud.

It wasn’t like Will knew. He was just being Will. Loud, dumb, joking Will.

But suddenly, the line between pretend and real felt thinner. Like if she wasn’t careful, it’d snap.

That night, she lay in bed, replaying the video in her mind. Even though it was gone, she could still see it clearly. The look in his eyes. That quiet little moment no one else noticed.

And she wondered—

If he saw it too.

Chapter 5: Avoidance Tactic

It started the next morning.

She came downstairs to the sound of a kettle boiling, hoping for another casual “insomniac garden chat” moment. But James wasn’t there. Just George, humming tunelessly and microwaving leftover pizza like it was a perfectly normal breakfast choice.

“Morning,” she mumbled.

“‘Sup,” George said, not looking up. “James already dipped. Said he had editing to do.”

That made her pause.

Editing? At 9 a.m.? After staying up till 2?

Weird.

But she brushed it off. Maybe he was just busy. Maybe the late nights were catching up to him. Maybe she was reading into everything like a walking Tumblr post.

Still, it kept happening.

At lunch, James sat at the opposite end of the table.

During filming, he paired off with George without saying anything.

When she passed him in the hallway, he smiled politely—too politely—and kept walking.

It wasn’t cold exactly. It wasn’t even rude. It was just distant. Careful.

And it hurt.

Not in a dramatic, romcom-heartbreak kind of way. More like… a steady little ache. A dull pinch every time he didn’t look at her. Every time he made a joke that wasn’t meant for her to hear. Every time he chose silence over connection.

She tried not to let it show. Laughed at everyone’s jokes, kept her voice light. But inside, her brain was screaming:

Did I imagine it?

Did I scare him off?

Was it just a moment? Was I just a moment?

She caught him watching her once. Just once. She turned too quickly and their eyes locked—only for a second. And he looked away faster than she ever thought possible.

By day three, she was officially spiraling. She told herself it was fine. That it didn’t matter. That it was just a silly crush, and she was being dramatic. But every time she caught a piece of his voice from another room, her stomach twisted.

Eventually, she cornered Will in the kitchen. He was trying to open a jar of something aggressively red and failing.

“Hey,” she said, casual. Too casual. “Did James say anything to you?”

Will raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

“I don’t know. Just… he’s been kind of quiet.”

Will gave her a look. “He’s always quiet. It’s his whole thing.”

“No, like—different quiet.”

Will smirked. “You got a crush on him or something?”

She nearly choked. “What? No. Obviously not.”

“Relax,” Will said, laughing. “Just asking. You’ve been weird.”

You’ve been weird.
He’s been distant.
It’s all weird.

That night, she didn’t stay up late. Didn’t go outside. Didn’t try to catch his eye.

Let him avoid her.

It was easier than hoping.

Chapter 6: Jealousy Game

The group decided on drinks that night—proper pub energy. Not content creation, not forced fun. Just pints, playlists, and pretending they weren’t all chronically online.

She hadn’t planned to dress up, really. But something in her snapped when she caught James, once again, ducking her gaze at breakfast. If he was going to pretend like the garden didn’t happen, fine. Let him.

She put on eyeliner that made her eyes sharper, lips a little glossier. A cropped black jacket over a strappy top. Something that said, I’m fine. Thriving, even.

James didn’t say anything when she walked downstairs. But he saw. She caught it—just a flick of the eyes. A blink too long. Then he turned to George and started talking like she wasn’t even there.

Fine.

At the pub, things got messy fast. Jack was making rounds like he owned the place, and Will had somehow ended up in a heated argument with a bartender over crisps. She found herself at the bar next to someone not from their group—a friend of a friend, apparently. Ollie. Cute. Tall. The kind of smile that made you lean in.

So she did.

And maybe it wasn’t entirely innocent. Maybe she laughed a little too loudly. Maybe she leaned on the bar just right when Ollie complimented her jacket. But it worked.

Because James looked.

Not just a glance—he watched. From across the room, pint half-raised, face unreadable. Like he wanted to say something and was fighting himself not to.

She tried not to show how much she liked that. The power of it.

But then Ollie leaned in too close—just to ask about her drink—and James stood up and walked outside without a word.

She followed him five minutes later, heart pounding in her chest like it was trying to break its way out.

He was leaning against the pub wall, hands in his jacket pockets, breathing visible in the night air. She didn’t say anything at first. Just stood beside him, like they were strangers again.

“You okay?” she asked finally.

James let out a sharp breath. “Are you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He turned toward her. “You know what it means.”

She folded her arms. “So I can’t talk to someone now without it being a thing?”

“That guy was practically climbing over you.”

“Oh, now you care?”

James flinched.

And there it was. The thing she wasn’t supposed to say. The truth he hadn’t been ready to face. But it was out there now, hanging between them like smoke.

“I’ve been trying not to,” he said, voice low. “Care. It’s not easy.”

She looked at him. Really looked.

“Why?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

James shook his head. “Because it’s you. Because it’s Will’s little sister. Because I don’t want to be the guy who screws everything up.”

“You’re not screwing anything up,” she said, softer now.

He didn’t answer. Just stared at the pavement like it held all the right words.

Inside, she could hear the muffled bass of whatever bad pop song the pub had queued next.

“Do you like him?” James asked suddenly.

“Ollie?”

James nodded, not looking at her.

She waited a beat.

“No,” she said. “I just wanted you to notice.”

His eyes met hers, sharp and sad and honest.

“I always notice,” he said.

But then the door opened, and Will stuck his head out, drunkenly yelling something about kebabs and cabs and where the hell they’d disappeared to.

And just like that, the moment vanished.

James stepped back into the noise. She stayed there a second longer, pulse roaring in her ears.

He noticed.

She wasn’t sure if that made it better—or worse.

Chapter 7: The Song

Two days after the pub, the house was quieter again. Everyone was too hungover or emotionally scorched to do much. Will had disappeared to film a collab, Jack had taken George into town, and for once, it was just the two of them.

Her and James.

The silence was awkward. Not thick, exactly—more like a space carefully padded around the truth they weren’t touching. They moved around each other like chess pieces, like everything was about to tip one way or another.

She ended up in the spare room, where Will kept an old electric keyboard. Mostly as a joke. Mostly for George to mess around with when he was bored. But she sat down in front of it, ran her fingers over the dust-flecked keys, and let herself play.

Soft at first. Just chords. Gentle, moody, unresolved. Then something started forming—a melody she hadn’t planned. Her fingers knew what she was feeling before her mouth could admit it.

She didn’t even hear James come in.

But she felt him. In the doorway, arms folded, just watching.

“You wrote that?” he asked, voice low, almost careful.

She didn’t look up. “It just… happened.”

James stepped in slowly, like he was afraid he’d ruin the moment. “It’s sad.”

She finally looked at him. “It’s honest.”

He nodded, came to stand beside the keyboard. “What’s it about?”

She played one chord again—soft and uncertain. “You.”

It was a risk, saying it out loud. But at this point, pretending was exhausting. She couldn’t keep bottling it all behind half-smiles and late-night glances.

James didn’t respond right away.

Instead, he sat down next to her. His shoulder barely touched hers. He was close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin.

“Play it again?” he asked.

So she did.

This time, she added more. Let her voice come in, barely above a whisper. Lyrics that weren’t planned. Just… felt.

“You don’t say it, but you mean it
You don’t look, but I still see it
Caught in silence, stuck in scenes
Where I’m everything
And nothing in between.”

The last note hung in the air.

James didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just breathed.

When she finally turned to look at him, his expression had cracked open. No jokes. No walls.

“I don’t want to pretend anymore,” he said.

“Then don’t.”

That broke it.

His hand reached for hers on the keys, fingers curling just barely, like he still wasn’t sure he was allowed.

She looked down at them. His hand over hers. Warm. Real.

It wasn’t a kiss. It wasn’t some grand gesture. But it was more than silence. More than fear.

The song still echoed faintly from the keyboard, unfinished.

So were they.

But for the first time—

She didn’t mind.

Chapter 8: A Line Crossed

The next morning felt different.

Not dramatically. Not like the whole world had flipped upside down overnight. But something in the air had shifted. Charged. Fragile. Like a wire pulled just tight enough to hum.

She saw James in the kitchen before anyone else was awake—again. Same hoodie. Same mug. But this time, he looked up and didn’t look away.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she answered, voice softer than usual.

She stepped in, grabbed a mug without breaking eye contact, and stood beside him like they were tethered to the same unspoken thing. He didn’t touch her, didn’t even reach out—but the space between them felt owned now. Marked. Changed.

“You alright?” he asked.

She nodded. “You?”

He smirked. “Trying not to overthink a song.”

“Too late for that.”

They shared a look. Quiet. Knowing. Sweet in a way that made her chest ache.

Then Will’s voice boomed from upstairs, shattering it like glass.

“Kettle better be full or I’m suing someone!”

James stepped back immediately, like a reflex. Like the moment had teeth.

And just like that, the wire snapped.

By the time Will thudded down the stairs, James was halfway across the room, mug in hand, back to his usual self.

Will barely noticed, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes. “Why are you both up? Gross. Go back to bed like normal people.”

She forced a laugh, but her pulse was thudding.

All morning, James kept his distance.

All afternoon, they barely spoke.

And that night, after everyone had gone to bed and the house was dark, she heard a knock on her door. Soft. One beat. Hesitant.

She opened it to find James standing there.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he whispered.

She stepped aside without a word and let him in.

He didn’t touch her at first. Just stood in the center of her room, jaw clenched, like he was holding something in with every fiber of his being.

“I feel like I’m hiding in my own skin,” he said, voice shaking. “I don’t know how to be around you and not want more.”

“Then stop pretending,” she whispered.

He moved then.

Just one step. Then two. And suddenly his hand was in her hair and his mouth was on hers and the world shrunk to this.

It wasn’t rushed. Wasn’t desperate.

It was slow. Careful. A hundred unsaid things passed between them like sparks.

But it was also real.

And real meant consequences.

Afterward, when he rested his forehead against hers, she whispered, “What now?”

James didn’t answer right away. His fingers were still wrapped in hers.

Then: “I don’t know. But I’m not letting you go.”

She closed her eyes.

The line was crossed.

And there was no going back.

Chapter 9: Slipping

They didn’t talk about it the next morning.

James left her room before the sun came up, like a ghost—quiet footsteps, no creaky floorboard missteps. She lay in bed after the door closed, staring at the ceiling with her heart still thudding in her ears.

It wasn’t regret.
It wasn’t shame.
It was fear.

Because it wasn’t just a kiss, or a moment. It was a shift. And once something shifts, pretending it didn’t becomes exhausting.

Will was already awake when she came downstairs. He looked up from his cereal like he’d been waiting to interrogate someone.

“Morning,” he said slowly. Suspiciously.

She narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“You’re being weird again.”

“I just woke up.”

“You’re blinking weird.”

“I—what?!”

Will pointed his spoon at her. “I know you. Something’s going on.”

She deflected. Rolled her eyes. Made a sarcastic comment. It worked. He dropped it—for now. But the seed was planted, and she knew Will well enough to know he’d water it until it bloomed into full-blown investigation.

The next few days blurred.

Little things started to slip.

James made her tea the exact way she liked it. George raised an eyebrow.

She laughed too hard at a dumb joke he made. Jack looked between them, suspicious.

James sat next to her on the couch, knees brushing, and didn’t move. Will narrowed his eyes.

She could feel it unraveling.

The secret. The tension. The space they’d built between glances and soft words—it was slipping. Cracks forming. Pressure building.

Late one night, she caught James in the hallway. Just the two of them. Lights low. Everyone else asleep.

“We’re not being subtle anymore,” she said.

He leaned against the wall, looking wrecked with want and caution all at once. “I know.”

“They’re going to figure it out.”

“I know.”

She hesitated. “Maybe we should tell him.”

James exhaled, long and slow. “You think he’d take it well?”

“I think he’d take you by the throat.”

“Fair.”

They stood there for a beat. The weight of it pressing in from all sides.

Then James said, “I’d risk it.”

She looked at him.

“What?”

“I’d risk it,” he said again. “Will’s friendship. The fallout. All of it. If you said this was real.”

She stepped in, barely breathing.

“It is real.”

James didn’t kiss her that time.

But he reached for her hand.

And held it like an anchor.

Still slipping—but together.

Chapter 10: The Discovery

It happened in the most cliché way possible.

Will walked in without knocking.

One minute she and James were sitting on her bed, shoulder to shoulder, watching dumb videos and trading those slow, lingering glances they had no business sharing. The next minute—door swings open. Will barges in, hoodie half on, holding his phone like he was about to show her a tweet.

And then he froze.

James jumped up. Like literally jumped. Her laptop slid off the bed and landed on the floor with a dull thud. She just sat there, completely still, like her soul had momentarily left her body.

Will’s eyes flicked between them. Once. Twice. Then they narrowed.

“...What the fuck is this?”

Silence.

“Are you kidding me?” Will’s voice climbed, low and sharp. “Tell me this isn’t what it looks like.”

James opened his mouth. Closed it.

She stood up slowly. “Will—”

“No, no, don’t ‘Will’ me,” he said, backing toward the door like the room physically repelled him. “You—” he pointed at James, “—are my friend. And you—” his voice cracked slightly when he looked at her, “—are my sister.”

She felt it in her chest like a punch.

James finally spoke, his voice rough. “We didn’t mean for it to happen this way.”

Will laughed. Actually laughed. “Oh, sick. You’re in love, aren’t you? You’ve been sneaking around behind my back and now what, I’m supposed to congratulate you?”

James stepped forward. “I didn’t want to hide it from you.”

“But you did,” Will snapped. “Both of you did.”

She tried to reach for him, but he stepped back.

“I told everyone you were off limits,” he muttered. “I trusted you, man.”

James didn’t look away. “I never saw her as some off-limits rule. She’s not a possession.”

That didn’t help.

Will’s fists clenched. “Don’t talk to me like you’re noble.”

She stepped in, voice calm but shaking. “Will, I didn’t plan this either. It just… happened. We tried to ignore it. But it’s real.”

Will stared at her for a long, long time. His jaw tightened. Then he said, quietly, “I can’t even look at you right now.”

And then he walked out.

The silence he left behind was loud and cruel.

James looked like he wanted to say something. Maybe go after him.

But she shook her head. “Not yet.”

She sat back down on the bed. Stared at the spot where Will had stood like it might still echo.

Everything they’d tried to protect—the secret moments, the careful glances, the soft songs—it had all led to this.

Discovery.

And now came the fallout.

Chapter 11: Fallout

The house was quieter than it had ever been.

Not the comfortable quiet of late nights or lazy mornings—but the heavy, brittle kind. The kind where no one knows what to say, so they say nothing. Even the floorboards seemed more cautious.

Will didn’t speak to either of them the next day.

He didn’t yell. Didn’t explode again. He just… shut down. Detached. Walked past her in the hall without looking up. Answered James with single-syllable replies if he had to answer at all. Otherwise, it was like they didn’t exist.

George and Jack noticed immediately.

“You two fight?” George asked, tone light but eyes sharp.

“Something like that,” she muttered.

Jack, who’d never been subtle, raised an eyebrow at James across the kitchen later that day and said, “You piss off the big man?”

James didn’t answer.

The day dragged.

No one filmed anything.

No one joked around.

And Will stayed holed up in his room, editing, gaming, ignoring every knock on his door—including hers.

By nightfall, she couldn’t take it.

She stood outside Will’s door again, fists clenched at her sides, then knocked softly. “Will?”

Silence.

“It wasn’t a game,” she said through the wood. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this. But I’m not going to say sorry for falling for him.”

Still nothing.

She sighed. “You can be mad at me. That’s fine. But I need you to understand this isn’t just some fling. I love him.”

That last part hurt to say out loud.

Not because it wasn’t true. But because the person she needed to hear it the most was the one least willing to.

A beat of silence.

Then: “You should’ve told me,” Will said. Quiet. Muffled. But there.

She leaned her forehead against the door.

“I know.”

“I could’ve dealt with it,” he continued. “If you’d just told me. But instead you lied. For weeks.”

“I was scared,” she whispered. “Scared I’d lose this. You. Everything.”

Another pause. Then: “You still might.”

That cracked something inside her.

She didn’t cry. Not yet. But she felt it building. Like a storm waiting just beyond her ribs.

Back downstairs, James was waiting in the living room. Sitting on the floor, head leaned against the wall, eyes closed like he hadn’t slept in a year.

She sat down beside him, slow and quiet.

“He spoke?” James asked without opening his eyes.

She nodded. “A little.”

They didn’t talk for a while. Just leaned on each other in the dark, letting the weight of it all settle between them.

“We broke it,” James said eventually. Voice raw.

She took his hand.

“Maybe. But I don’t think it was fake enough to stay hidden forever.”

He looked at her.

“You still think it’s worth it?”

She didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah. I do.”

Even with the silence. The guilt. The hurt.

Especially with the hurt.

Because nothing that real comes without a cost.

Chapter 12: The Ultimatum

It took two more days before Will finally cracked.

They were all in the living room, pretending to watch something none of them were actually watching—some chaotic group video Jack had picked purely to fill the silence. James was stiff beside her on the couch, arms folded, legs angled away like he wasn’t trying to take up any space.

Will sat in the armchair, hood up, scrolling through his phone with surgical disinterest.

No one spoke.

Then Jack said, casually, “So when are you two gonna stop pretending we didn’t all figure it out already?”

She froze.

James blinked.

Will looked up slowly. “Are you serious, mate?”

Jack glanced around. “I mean, c’mon. It’s been awkward as hell for a week. George literally placed bets yesterday.”

George raised a hand. “Still think Will punches James before the end of the month.”

Will stood up.

Not storming. Just… done. The quiet, dangerous kind of done.

“I can’t live in the same house while this is happening,” he said flatly.

Her stomach dropped. “Will—”

“I’m not saying you don’t feel something. I’m not even saying I don’t get it. But this isn’t a movie, alright? You’re my sister. He’s supposed to be my best mate.”

“I still am,” James said softly.

Will turned to him. “Then why didn’t you act like it?”

No one said anything.

Finally, Will exhaled and looked at her.

“You’ve got a choice,” he said. “You can have him. Fine. I won’t stop you. But if that’s what this is… I need space. You need to move out.”

She felt it in her chest like a free-fall.

Move out.

As in leave.

As in no more late-night films, or chaotic group dinners, or music spilling through walls while George remixed TikToks in the next room.

James sat up straighter. “She doesn’t have to do that. We’ll figure something out—”

“No,” Will cut in. “You don’t get to make this easy.”

Then he left the room.

Just like that.

The quiet afterward wasn’t awkward anymore.

It was devastating.

She didn’t look at anyone else. Just stood slowly and walked upstairs, one step at a time, until the walls felt like they were pressing in.

James came up a few minutes later. Found her standing by her window, arms crossed tightly around herself.

“You okay?” he asked.

“No,” she whispered. “Not really.”

“I’ll leave,” he said. “If it makes this easier for you.”

She turned sharply. “No. Don’t do that. This isn’t about who leaves. It’s about what we’re willing to give up.”

James nodded, jaw tight. “So what now?”

She looked at him. At his eyes, his hands, the way his presence always grounded her, even in chaos.

Then she said it—clear, certain:

“We stop hiding. And we find a way to make this work, even if it means starting over somewhere else.”

James didn’t hesitate.

“Then I’m with you.”

And just like that, the choice was made.

Not easy.
Not painless.
But real.

Chapter 13: Leaving

It rained the morning she packed.

The soft, misty kind that made everything feel slower. More final. James helped in silence—folding clothes, unplugging chargers, stuffing vinyls and notebooks into boxes like he was afraid one wrong move might break her.

Will hadn’t spoken to her again since the ultimatum.

George offered to help, but the look James gave him made him back off fast. Jack lingered in the doorway, arms crossed, watching like it physically hurt him not to make a joke.

“This is so dramatic,” Jack muttered eventually. “Feels like a Netflix original but with more hoodies.”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You’ll survive.”

Jack gave a mock salute. “Only just.”

The car was small. Barely enough room for her things. James crammed the last box into the back seat while she zipped her jacket with fingers that wouldn’t stop trembling.

She turned for one last look at the house.

Every corner of it was memory-soaked—late-night snacks in the kitchen, singing with George in the hallway, arguing over film edits with Will, that first accidental touch with James on the stairs. The garden. The keyboard. The song.

All of it.

Then she saw Will standing on the porch.

Arms folded. No expression.

She met his eyes from across the driveway. For a long second, nothing passed between them. Just rain.

Then he gave her the faintest of nods.

Not forgiveness.
Not approval.

But maybe—maybe—a truce.

She blinked hard and turned away before the tears could fall.

James didn’t speak until they were on the motorway.

“You okay?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. But I will be.”

They drove in silence for a while. The rain streaked down the windshield like punctuation marks in a sentence neither of them could finish.

Finally, she looked at him. “You sure about this? About all of it?”

James glanced at her. “I left a lot behind for this.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He reached across the gearshift and laced his fingers with hers. “And I’d do it again.”

She didn’t say anything.

She didn’t need to.

Their silence finally felt like something safe.

Like a promise.

Chapter 14: The New Normal

The new flat was smaller.

Two rooms. One cracked window. A living room that doubled as a studio if James moved the coffee table. No George snoring on the couch. No Will yelling about bad takes. No chaotic kitchen battles with Jack’s questionable “culinary experiments.”

Just them.

It was quiet.

But not in a lonely way.

James thrived in small spaces. He strung fairy lights across the ceiling. Set up his mic stand next to her bookshelf. Left his socks absolutely everywhere. And she let him—because it meant he was there.

They got used to each other in new ways.

Waking up tangled in the sheets. Grocery shopping while arguing over crisps. Cooking meals that were sometimes disasters and sometimes perfect, but always theirs.

Still, she missed it. The house. The noise. Will.

He hadn’t reached out.

Not directly.

But she caught him liking a photo on her Instagram—the one James took of her sitting on the fire escape, hair tangled, laughing at something off-camera. She’d stared at that like for ten full minutes.

It wasn’t much.

But it was something.

James noticed, too.

“You gonna call him?” he asked one night.

She shook her head. “Not yet.”

He nodded. Didn’t push.

Instead, he went to his mic, flicked on the switch, and asked her, “Wanna hear something I’ve been working on?”

Always. “Yeah.”

He started to play. Something soft, familiar.

It was her song.

The one she’d played on Will’s keyboard weeks ago—except now it had layers. Strings beneath the chords. A low harmony she hadn’t known it needed. His voice, gentle and raw:

“You were a whisper in a room of noise
A quiet maybe wrapped in choice
But I’d cross every line I drew
Just to stand in this silence with you.”

She closed her eyes.

This was the life they had built. Not loud. Not perfect. But true.

She walked over as he finished the last note, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind.

“You wrote that for me?”

James turned in her arms, smiling against her hair. “I wrote it with you.”

They stayed there like that for a long time.

Not needing to speak. Not needing to fill the space.

They were the quiet in the chaos now.

They were the new normal.

Chapter 15: Homecoming

It was Will’s birthday.

That’s what did it, in the end.

She wasn’t planning to go. She’d even told herself not to. Too messy. Too soon. Too much that hadn’t been said.

But when the group chat blew up with plans—Jack’s terrible cake ideas, George threatening to DJ, the invite extended to both of them—her heart stuttered.

And then came the message.

From Will.

Just two words.

Come through.

She stared at her phone for five solid minutes before showing James.

He raised his eyebrows. “You want to?”

“I think I have to.”

So they went.

Back to the house. Back to the kitchen with the dodgy drawer. The living room full of memories. The creaky stair that gave them away once. Everything felt smaller somehow—but warmer, too. Familiar in that way only a first home after heartbreak can be.

Will answered the door.

They all froze for a beat.

James cleared his throat. “Hey.”

Will stared for a moment. Then stepped back. “Get in here before I change my mind.”

It wasn’t forgiveness.

But it wasn’t nothing.

The night buzzed. Drinks poured. Music played. George did DJ, and somehow it worked. Jack’s cake was an abomination, but it was eaten anyway.

And then, later—quiet again.

She found Will in the kitchen, staring out the back window like he was watching a memory.

“Still hate him?” she asked gently.

Will exhaled. “Depends on the day.”

She smiled. “That’s fair.”

Another pause.

Then he looked at her—really looked at her.

“You’re happy?”

“I am.”

Will nodded. “That’s all I ever wanted for you.”

It hit her harder than she expected.

She stepped forward, wrapped her arms around him. And for the first time in what felt like years, he hugged her back properly.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said. “I missed me too.”

They laughed. Soft. Healing.

Later that night, when she found James in the hallway, he looked up like he’d been holding his breath since they arrived.

“Well?”

She smiled.

“He’s not gonna punch you.”

“Relief,” James deadpanned. “I like my jaw how it is.”

They left together, hand in hand, into the soft night air.

No more secrets. No more slipping.

Just love, hard-earned and fully known.

And for the first time since it all began—

It felt like home.

Epilogue: One Year Later

The video was unlisted.

It didn’t drop on a Tuesday. No premiere. No clickbait title. Just a soft thumbnail of two intertwined hands resting on a piano.

She clicked “upload” with shaking fingers.

And waited.

It wasn’t for subscribers.
It wasn’t for clout.
It was for him.

And for them.

The video opened with her voice, barely above a whisper.

“I never planned to fall in love with my brother’s best friend.
But I did.
Quietly.
Fiercely.
Secretly.”

Then the music started.

James’s song—their song—played underneath clips from the last year. Grainy shots from the flat. Her laughing in the kitchen. James asleep on the floor with a guitar across his chest. Train rides. Rainy walks. A blurry, accidental photo of Will hugging her outside a café, both of them laughing too hard to breathe.

No edits. No flashy cuts. Just truth.

The final frame faded to black, and her voice returned.

“We risked a lot. Lost things we didn’t want to lose.
But love doesn’t wait until it’s convenient.
And when it’s real—you fight for it.

This is us.
Quiet. Messy. Loud in all the right places.
And somehow, still standing.”

Then the title screen.

“Secretly Yours — A Love Story We Lived”

She didn’t look at the comments.
Didn’t refresh analytics.
Didn’t need the numbers this time.

Because behind her, James wrapped his arms around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder.

“You’re really brave, you know that?”

She leaned into him. “Took me a while.”

He kissed the side of her head.

And then Will walked in holding two coffees and a croissant between his teeth like a dog with a prize.

“I assume that’s for me?” he asked through a mouthful, eyeing the video screen.

She laughed. “You watched it already, didn’t you?”

Will shrugged. “I might have cried a little.”

“Liar.”

“Okay, I laughed. But, like, emotionally.”

They all collapsed on the couch, limbs tangled, hearts lighter.

No more hiding.

No more waiting.

Just love.

And a story that—finally—wasn’t a secret anymore.

[stargirlbabies]

If I wrote a james marriott x singer reader

Social media au would anyone read it

[souredgrape]

Dreaming

Will Lenney x James Marriott

Synopsis: Will wakes up one morning after a crazy dream, shifting his whole view on things. Then his invite to James photoshoot sends him over the edge.

WC: 4.9K

Warning: MDNI. Cursing. Hickeys. Kissing. Implied sexual content. Panic attack.

If this makes you uncomfortable or you don’t like it, just scroll.

Will was straight. He knew that, he’d always known that. There was no reason to believe otherwise. Until one night, Will sat bolt upright in his bed, beads of sweat running down his face. He glanced at the clock, four am, the digital text staring at him. He clutched his sheets, images floating through his mind. Images of lips against his skin, trailing down his neck and chest. Being pinned to the mattress, large hands caressing his body and bruises being painted against his jaw. Images of James. Will panted, painfully aware of how he was feeling beneath the sheets. His mind was going at a thousand miles per hour. It wasn’t normal. Why was he dreaming of that? Surely it was just a blip of his brain. Overworked and under-rested. There was no way he actually wanted that, was there? However the more he thought about it, the faster his heart was beating and the more his crisis grew.

The very next day Will sat in his studio, staring at the white desk in front of him, as if it offended him. He could do it, he could face James and act normal. Act like he didn’t dream about them having sex just hours ago. He’d never gotten back to sleep. But he did sit on his couch sipping coffee the whole morning. His stomach was swirling with acid but Will didn’t feel like eating. Even if he was exhausted and dizzy. He’d push through. It was just a stupid dream. It meant nothing.

“What did the table ever do to you?” James voice suddenly entered his ears, making him jump slightly. Will looked up, meeting his best friend’s hazel eyes. Were they always so pretty? He cleared his throat.

“Sorry, zoned out lad.” He half joked, watching as James sat next to him. He was wearing a black T-shirt and ripped jeans. Nothing special but Will found himself staring. The jeans clung to his thick thighs, something that had caught his eyes more than once but he’d only just realised why. James looked better than ever. He now radiated confidence, his hair the perfect length. His facial hair complimented his skin perfectly. He really was attracted to James.

“Will?” He snapped out of it, looking at the taller man with wide eyes. “Are you alright?” James asked worried, his brows knitted together.

“Yeah, fine.” Maybe he really couldn’t face him.

Two videos later and they were all done for the day. Wills limbs felt like lead, he was so tired and so hungry. The whole time he’d been distracted by James. Once or twice he’d even caught himself flirting. Luckily everyone thought it was just a bit for the camera. So unlike him though, to make that many comments.

“Any plans tonight?” James stretched his arms above his head, a slither of his stomach becoming visible. Will felt like a fool, his cheeks colouring at the sight in front of him.

“No mate, I think I’m just gonna head home.” He said, straightening his disheveled hair out.

“Awe, without me?” James cooed, making Will tense slight but he managed to play it cool.

“Chill out brother.” He scoffed, watching as James got up and tucked his phone into his pocket. “Do you wanna come? Hang out, play fifa?” Will asked anxiously, for some reason. They hung out so often, it was not an unusual thing for him to suggest. James smiled at the offer.

“Of course I do.” He agreed. Will was happy but didn’t show it, still overly aware of how he was reacting to the man beside him. With a nod, Will stood quickly, too quickly. His vision clouded with darkness, blacking out with the sudden movement. Will stumbled, his knees giving out beneath him. James acted quickly, reaching out and holding Wills waist to keep him up.

“Woah, are you okay?” James sounded concerned, and that upset the northerner. He blinked hard, his blurry vision slowly focusing. His throat felt dry and he became aware of the nausea he was feeling. When he could see clearly again, he found James looking straight into his eyes with worry. “Hey..you back with me?”

“Sorry.” He breathed, realising that he’d been gripping onto James biceps for support.

“Don’t apologise. Have you eaten today?” Will shook his head. “It’s nearly five. We’re ordering as soon as we get to your flat.” James practically ordered, and Will found comfort in the authority. “Come on, we’ll talk once we’re there.”

Once they were back at his place, Will sat on his couch, his head in his hands as James ordered food from a local Japanese place.

“Will, you wanna talk about anything?” James offered, rubbing his back. Will wanted nothing more to get it off his chest, but that would mean telling him how he thought he felt. “You know I won’t judge you right?” It was reassuring to hear, and Will sighed sitting straight. Maybe he could half lie, just tell him a version of what he was dealing with. Turning towards James, he pulled his knees to his chest weakly.

“I had a mad dream last night, and I’m not gonna lie, it’s royally fucked my head up.” Will said honestly, swallowing the lump in his throat. James frowned, looked over his friend.

“What kind of dream?” Will just looked at him, face a little flushed. It took a moment, but James got it. “Oh, right. About someone you know?” He guessed from the amount it was bothering Will. The brunette nod, putting his head on his knees. “Do you like this person?”

“I don’t know.” Will mumbled, taking a deep breath. But he felt like he was lying to himself. He glanced at James, taking in his features. His pretty nose and plump lips, his hazel eyes. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure.” Will admitted softly. James gave him a short smile, placing a hand on his knee.

“Don’t stress over it. It’s normal to have crushes and those dreams. You don’t have to immediately profess your love to them.” He chuckled, gaining a smile from Will. “Be honest, was it Mikey?” That caught Will off guard, so he slapped James arm playfully.

“No you twat.” They both laughed, comfort wrapping around Will. It always felt so easy with James, how had it taken him so long to realise just how deep his feelings were? “Thanks Jim, for listening.”

“Always.”

———

They sat on that sofa, food consumed and a stupid movie playing on the Tv. Will had his head on James shoulder.

“I have a photo shoot here in London next Tuesday. Wanna come?” James asked, looking down at the man leaning on him. Will was slightly surprised by the offer, but he wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to see him.

“Yeah of course.” James looked ecstatic at his agreement, shaking Will with excitement.

“Yay, you’ll see how sexy I look in the nude.”

“Brother what?!” Will jumped back, and James burst out laughing, hunching forward. Even though it was clearly a joke, it took Will right back to the previous night, the images of them together filling his mind. He swatted the younger on the back of the head lightly.

“As if I’d want to see that.” Will spat, but his voice felt weak. James glanced at him, a small smirk on his lips.

“Whatever you say Will.”

———

James came knocking on his door the next week, an overnight bag in hand that he quickly dumped in Wills room for that evening.

“I looked on google maps, it’s like a ten minute walk to the studio. There’s a coffee shop on the same street too.” James said, watching as Will tied his converse up. Humming, the shorter stood and grabbed his phone. “Won’t you be cold without a proper coat?” James questioned, noting that Will was only wearing a thin t-shirt and a denim jacket.

“Nah lad I’ll be fine, let’s go. I really need a coffee.”

Will found out, about two minutes later, that the sun he saw through his window, was very deceiving. It was, in fact, cold. James looked at the man, not hiding his cockiness.

“You doing okay?”

“Fine.” Will muttered, hugging himself as they walked. Just ahead of them was the cafe that James had found. Will was grateful, still feeling half asleep from the early start. James stopped him before they went in, pulling off his coat then his hoodie. Will watched confused, as James put his coat back on then held out the black hoodie.

“Don’t just look at me.” He chuckled, helping Will slip the denim off. “Put this on, it’s warmer.”

“What about-“

“I’m not cold. You are.” James smiled, stepping away once Will had his hoodie on. “Drowns you.” He commented, admiring the sight in front of him. Will felt himself blush, pushing the sleeve up slightly. “I’ll go get our coffees.” James went into the cafe, leaving Will stood by the entrance. He sighed, rubbing his face. Wearing James hoodie made him feel all fuzzy inside, his heart felt fluttery. It was soft and comforting, oversized perfectly. Or was it just perfect because it belonged to the man he was pining over. Probably. “Here we go.” James thrust his iced coffee in his face, already sipping his own. Will took it gratefully and began walking again.

“Are you nervous?” Will looked up at James curiously.

“Surprisingly no. Maybe because you’re here?” The brunette said thoughtfully, his straw resting against his lips. The comment made Will smile, and he hoped it was true.

———

“Ah there you are!” A boisterous man called out happily as the duo stepped into the studio.

“Here I am.” James chuckled, handing Will his stuff. “Could you hold this for a moment?”

“Sure.” Will took it, no problem, watching as James was talking to the man. He was anxious, that much was obvious. His fists were balled, a habit that Will had noticed.

“Will can stay with me right?” James asked hopefully, earning a scoff from the director.

“Of course, he can stand behind the camera.” The director gleamed in Wills direction. “Come, come. I’ll take you both to the dressing room.” He took them through to a rather nice room, directing Will to put their things down. “Will you can come back out with me whilst James gets all made up.” The director spoke, making the men look at each other. James gave Will a soft smile, watching him get escorted out. The crew quickly crowded him, dolling the man up, getting him ready god his first shoot.

“I see you have coffee already, can I get you anything else?” The director asked, unfolding a chair for Will and placing it just to the side of the camera. The tall man shook his head politely. “Sitting here you’ll see everything.”

“Is there a theme of the day? Or is each uh..” Will paused, not too sure of the lingo. “..scene different?” Holding a clipboard, the director chuckled and began checking things off his sheet.

“Each is different, this first one we’re going classic.” He began enthusiastically, pointing to the set in front of them. “Sophisticated rockstar. A grunge room. Dark purple lighting. And most importantly. A suit.” Will glanced up as he sat down, taking in the scene around him.

“Wait, a suit?” Will suddenly questioned, realising that his mind had skimmed over that.

“Oh yeah, it’s going to look fantastic.” The director scurried off shortly after, helping his team on the set. James often performed in suits, or most of a suit, but either way, Will was hiding his interest. Sipping his coffee, he smiled to himself, happy that he’d been invited. He could admire James in plain sight and no one would bat an eye. They had filmed a video in James’s flat the other day and Will caught himself staring on more than one occasion. Now he was absolutely certain that it wasn’t a fluke dream. Will really did fancy James. More than a normal crush. No, he really liked him. It was a scary realisation, but now Will was just a blushing mess every time the younger even glanced in his direction. He was now leaning into the flirty jokes and even making his own back. The door opened and finally, James came into the room. He was wearing a dark grey suit, one that had a few tears and purposeful rips. A black shirt with the top few buttons undone, showing just a little chest hair. Of course, he was wearing Chelsea boots, what else would he wear. He looked good though. Wills blue eyes were glued to him as he walked across the set to the director. They spoke for a minute, before James looked over at Will and smiled brightly. He looked insanely good, it took a moment for Will to return the smile. Just as James was about to head in his direction, the cameras were turned on and he was stopped. Will let out a breath, grateful and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to talk to him sanely. James walked further into the set up, clearly listening to some instructions. The director was taking steps backwards, towards the various cameras.

“…that’s it sit up on the speaker,” James did as he was instructed, hopping up onto the equipment with ease. He pulled his leg up, the heel of his boot resting on the speaker. A crew member handed him his trademark guitar. “ that’s it just like that. And for now I want you to just play something. We’ll get a couple shots of you in the zone.” The director let him know, now stood beside Will. James grinned before focusing in on his guitar, moving his fingers with ease, and Will instantly recognised his song. ‘Denial’. The cameras clicked in tandem, from all angles of the room. But Will only focused on him. “Great now-“ the director carried on, James doing whatever poses were thrown at him. Will simpered, staring at him with no shame. It was a photoshoot, no one would notice. Everyone was looking at him.

“Is he your boyfriend?” A young girl asked quietly, she was holding a laptop, receiving the pictures just moments after their capture. Will looked at her, eyeing up some of the photos. His throat felt a little dry from her question, did it look that way?

“No, no. He’s my mate.”

“Could’a fooled me, the way you’re looking at him.” She giggled before walking away, leaving Wills pulse racing far too fast.

———

James was lead away after a few more directions were yelled at him. A new outfit. The director was beaming, watching his crew change the set.

“A cellar?” Will questioned.

“It’s not really anything. Just a dingy backdrop. Gives us more range.” The director explained, as his crew carried in a beaten up, black sofa. “Minimalism. It’s perfect.” Will hummed in agreement, sipping on the dregs of his coffee. “You’re quite handsome yourself.” Will choked at the sudden compliment. The director laughed, patting his back. “Sorry bout that, it’s the scouter in me. I think we could use you in a couple of shots.” Will looked at the shorter man like he was mad, earning another laugh. “Oh don’t look at me like that, I mean it.” The director grinned. Will sighed and lulled his head to the side.

“If you need my superb good looks, I’m here.” He joked, but the older man nod in approval. The side door swung open.

“Ah James!” The director rushed over to the man, taking in his new outfit. “Oh it fits you perfectly!” Will peered over, jaw going a little slack. James was wearing a biker jacket, slightly too big but not unflattering. In fact, it looked amazing to Will. He couldn’t see what was underneath but he was wearing black slacks, some chunky docs and most important, his hair and make up was different. His hair was messy, showing off the cut with more definition. Then, the eyeliner. It suited him so well. Against his pale skin and only just blushed lips. Wills eyes were glued to him, who knew he had a thing for leather jackets.

“You’re sure he’s not your boyfriend?” It was the editor again, appearing behind him. Instead of denying any attraction this time, Will just scoffed and turned to her.

“Have you seen him?” There was insecurity in his inflection, making the girl frown. But it was clear she understood what he was saying though. When Will turned back to the set, he found James now sitting on the couch. The director was talking to him, arms moving around with conviction. Will tilted his head, trying to get a better look at his friend. It was annoying him that the man in charge was blocking most of his view. He wanted to see James. When the Director finally stepped aside, Wills eyes went wide. Beneath the denim jacket, James was wearing a vest. White, ribbed, fitted against his body perfectly. He prayed that the jacket would stay on.

“Alright let’s get a couple shots like this.” The director said, the cameras instantly snapping. James shifted into different positions naturally, raising both his arms and resting them behind his head, his legs crossing comfortably. Will never looked away, reminding himself to buy a copy of the damn magazine when it was published. “Good good, now how about a few more without the jacket.” It was an instruction, not a question. Will cursed mentally, unable to tear his eyes away as James slipped the coat off, hanging it to a crew member. Will swallowed, hard. All the gym sessions had been paying off. He chewed on his lips, eyes raking over James form, watching as he had more pictures taken. He moved, so he was lying with his head on the armrest, one leg flat and one leg bent at the knee, boot against the cushioning. Will stared at James arms, watched the muscles contort with every slight shift.

“-ill..Will?” He flinched, looking up to see The Director looking right at him. “Come here.” Slowly, Will stood, making his way onto the set. “Can I borrow your hands?”

“Uh, might be kinda hard as they’re attached to my wrists.” His comment made James laugh, which caused Will to smile. “What do you want me to do?” He was trying his hardest not to look at his friend, scared he’d give far too much away.

“Firstly I just want you to hold his hand. Stand behind the sofa out of shot. Roll your sleeve up and hold his hand.” The director said, standing back with his arms folded. Will nod, pushing his sleeves up and standing at an awkward angle behind the sofa. It was James who reached up, linking their fingers together. “Perfect hold that-“ the cameras flashed “-amazing. Now I want you to place your hand on his arm.” James let go, resting his hand on his chest. Will follows, carefully putting his hand on James forearm, still at an awkward angle so he wasn’t in shot. “Stunning. Your hands are so nice for this.” The director gleamed, looking over the pictures.

“They really are.” James mumbled, finally making eye contact with the Geordie. Will flushed, quickly averting his eyes.

“Right now come round the other side.” Will moved fast. “Crouch.” He did just that, getting as low as possible. “Now could you wrap your hand around his bicep, from underneath?” Will swore he was going to implode, his lips dry with nerves. Nevertheless, he complied, slipping his hand around his arm. He could feel the muscle beneath his palm, his blush only getting worse. “Oh that looks good, your hands are just the sight size.” The director praised. Will inhaled sharply, that statement taking him back to that dream. Everything he’d seen, everything he’d felt. The way his hands had traced James skin. He’d thought about it every night since, but now his hands were actually on him he was going crazy. “Perfect. Now if you could hold his face?”

“His what?” Will sputtered, looking up at the director in shock.

“Not in a harsh way silly. Hold his cheek, it’s a nice image. Trust me.” Timidly, Will moved sitting back on his heels. He reached out, gently cupping James cheek. James simpered, looking at Will fondly. They were close, but not close enough. “Oh that’s it.” The cameras flashed, careful enough to not get Will in shot. James was looking right into his eyes, his own hazel iris’s filled with an emotion Will couldn’t quite read. Slowly, James began to smile. A smile Will had never seen on him before, but god was it attractive. His breath caught in his throat, eyes wide in panic. He stumbled back, alerting everyone in the studio. James sat up, brows furrowing with concern. Getting to his feet, Will turned and bolted through the door rushing down the corridor until he saw the exit. Instead of leaving, Will fell back against the painted brick wall, bringing his knees to his chest. He shoved his sleeves back down, hitting his head a few times.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” He muttered to himself, letting out a shaky breath. He felt like such an idiot. Why did he have to freak out about every little thing he felt? Pushing his face into his hands, Will didn’t know whether to cry or laugh at himself. The sound of thudding footsteps could be heard coming closer. Will could recognise what Docs sounded like, especially when it was James wearing them. He prepared himself for questions, to be laughed at or maybe seen as a joke. After all, he freaked over his best friend giving him direct eye contact. And the touching, and that stupidly attractive smile. The footsteps drew in, stopping just a meter away. James hummed, observing how Will was curled in on himself. He looked small and vulnerable. James was silent at first, not helping With wills anxiety. He could vaguely make out the man moving so he was right in front of him, then stepping back.

“Was I good?” James asked, leaning against the wall opposite him, one hand tucked into the pocket of his slacks. Wills brows furrowed, slowly lifting his head from his hands. He looked at James confused. “In the dream. Was I good?” James was smirking, staring down at him. Will felt his blood run cold, a lump forming in his throat. He knew. James knew.

“How did you-“

“It was obvious, you’re not subtle.” James chuckled, pushing himself off the wall and crouching in front of Will. “When you told me, you kept looking at my lips, and my arms, and my chest. Just not my eyes.” Will let his head hit the wall, his heart pounding. And James was still smirking at him. This was it. Their friendship was over.

“I’m sorry.” Will breathed, hands trembling. He was waiting for rejection. He was expecting it.

“For what, darling?” James asked, taking hold of his hands. The elder found himself blushing again.

“Making you uncomfortable.”

“Oh I’m not uncomfortable. At all.” James chuckled, subtly pulling Will closer, sliding his hands down his arms. Will looked at him with bated breath. “I’m actually flattered, love. Took you long enough to realise.” James kneeled, cupping Wills cheeks in his larger hands. “I guess your subconscious knew, just had to give you a nice little dream to notice.” His thumb traced just under Wills bottom lip.

“You knew the whole week?” Will managed to get out, his eyes flickering between the man’s lips and his eyes. James grinned widely, moving a few inches closer. “Smug bastard.” Will quipped, but there was no real bite.

“You love it though.” James closed the gap, pressing his lips against Wills softly. Will reacted immediately, wrapping his arms around James neck and kissing back. Feeling his reciprocation, James deepened the kiss with ease, bringing the man closer to himself. Will was overwhelmed, but so happy. He almost whined when the other pulled away.

“Why didn’t you say you knew?”

“Didn’t want to pressure you, love.” James said kindly, stroking his cheek. “Besides, I enjoy seeing you so flustered. It’s cute.”

“Oi, I was stressing.” Will scowled. Letting out a slight laugh, James helped Will up.

“You still look good doing it.” Now Will was blushing again, looking up at James with a shy smile. He reached up, straightening out the creases in his vest. The air around them was thick, but not negative.

“I really should go back into the studio.” James spoke quietly, taking a minuscule step forward, resting his forehead against Wills.

“Yeah..” Will didn’t want him to go, intertwining their fingers. Their eyes met and it only took a second their lips to meet again. The kiss was more desperate, filled with months of unsaid words and emotions. James had Will pinned to the wall, swallowing any noises the elder may have been making. He’d realised that Will, in his crash out, had ran to where his dressing room was. James smirked into the kiss, holding onto Wills waist and bringing him flush to his chest. Will didn’t complain, following James aimlessly. He didn’t care, he’d follow his every move if he had to. Walking backwards, James bit on Wills lower lip gently, resulting in a low moan. This only encouraged James, who was reaching behind himself in search of the door handle. Stumbling back into the dressing room, James kicked the door shut before dragging Will to the couch. He pulled him down onto his lap, their lips never parting. Will pushed him back, breathing heavily.

“You didn’t answer my question.” James chuckled, watching Will run his hands down his biceps. “Was I good?”

“What do you think? Twat.” Will huffed with embarrassment, looking at James.

“Mm, I don’t know.” He replied, gripping Wills hips, dragging him even closer. “I want you to tell me what happened.” James mumbled, peppering kisses along Wills jaw, making the man go rigid. “Want you to tell me how it felt.” Will shivered, letting himself relax under the younger man’s touch. His lips against his skin felt like fire. “Was it like this?”

“No.” Will shook his head. “This is better.” He sighed, James hand slipped beneath his hoodie, under his T-shirt, finding his waist. He nipped at his neck, drawing a quiet whine from the man on his lap. “It’s hazy.” Will stuttered, unable to focus. “I-I just remember your hands on me.” He began, gripping onto James vest. “All over me.”

“Yeah?” James smirked, quick to rip Wills top layers off. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

———

From the sofa, Will watched James sort himself in the mirror. Desperately trying to restyle the hair that Will had messed up.

“You need to put your clothes back on too, you know?” James chuckled, pulling on his vest and tucking it back into his pants. Will sat up, putting on his jeans with minimal effort, then his T-shirt. When he turned back, he noticed something that made him press his lips together, surprising his laughter. James saw this and spun round, confused. “What?”

“Nothin’” Will dismissed, tying up his converse. Narrowing his eyes, James took another look in the mirror.

“Will!” He gasped, covering the side of his neck up with his hand. “How the hell are they gonna hide that? I have a shoot to finish!”

“Well you were the one eager about getting into my pants, not my fault.” He responded with a shit-eating grin, standing from his spot on the couch. James gave him a look, but Will kept smiling. “They’re gonna know, editor thought you were my boyfriend anyway.” He rolled his eyes as James walked to him, taking hold of his hand. Pressing a kiss to the back of it, the taller simpered fondly.

“Good, that’s what I want people to think.” James said surely, staring down at their hands. Tilting his head, Will tilted his chin up, noticing his sudden shift in demeanour. “It’s what I want.” James admitted timidly, showing his nerves for the first time that day. Will felt giddy, squeezing his hand affectionately.

“Then that’s what we are right?” He asked hopefully, James hazel eyes lighting up in an instant. He broke into smile, wrapping his arms around Will and lifting him up easily. Will hugged back, not containing his own happiness well either.

“I’m so glad you got the hots for me.” James snickered, getting a nice slap to the chest from his new boyfriend.

———

James kept hold of Wills hand as they walked back into the studio. The director rushed over to them, putting his hands on Wills shoulders.

“Are you okay? You looked so flushed, I was worried you’d fainted.” Taken aback by the man’s concern, Wills lips twitched upward.

“Yeah I’m alright, just felt a little, hot.” He half lied, but the director was luckily oblivious.

“Sit down, I’ll get you some water.” The director ushered him back to his previous spot, getting a bottle from one of his crew members. Reluctantly, he let go of James hand, accepting the water gratefully.

“If it’s alright, there’s just a few more scenes we’d like to do? Few more outfits?”

“Oh yeah of course.” James agreed with a smile, the director went to speak but then paused, eyeing his neck.

“Did you bruise yourself?” Will looked away, trying his hardest not to laugh. James on the other hand, laughed anxiously at the directors question.

“Uh, yeah, I guess I did.” He headed back to the dressing room quickly, the director hot on his tail with even more questions. Will smiled to himself, putting the cap back on his bottle. The editor leered, coming to stand beside Will.

“Still not your boyfriend then?”

[octaneink]

You shouldn't compete at all

James Marriott x Platonic!Reader

Summary: James has recently gone through a painful breakup, the reader tells him something that changes his perspective. Warnings: Themes of cheating from a named original character Notes: I was listening to BOKeTE and watched the music video, then I was inspired to make this!

You and James had been friends for years, ever since you collided outside a cramped London pub during a mutual friend’s birthday. You met when he was still drinking, he’d spilt his pint down your shirt, and instead of apologising, he’d laughed so hard he snorted, which made you laugh, which made him insist on buying you three more drinks. Since then, you’d become the person he called after bad dates, the one who dragged him to Tesco at 2 AM for ice cream when he was editing videos, and one of the voices in his ear telling him to continue pursuing his musical career.

But this, this was different.

James had been dating Clara for six months. She was all sharp wit and sharper eyeliner, a part-time DJ who’d slid into his DMs after he made a joke about synth wave on a YouTube video. At first, it was electric—late-night drives to nowhere, sharing Spotify playlists, her teaching him how to mix a decent London Fog.

But then the cracks started showing. She’d cancel plans last minute, vanish for days, gaslight him with a breezy “You’re overreacting, babe” when he’d ask where she’d been. You’d warned him gently, but he’d shrugged it off with, “I’m a disaster, she’s a disaster—match made in hell.”

Then came the breakup text. “Need space. This is too much.” Clara posted a selfie from Ibiza twelve hours later, her arm slung around a guy with a jawline that could cut glass and a chiselled eight-pack.

Three days after the breakup, James’s flat smelt like stale pizza, regret, and the faint chemical tang of Red Bull left sweating in abandoned cans. You let yourself in with the key he’d given you last Christmas when you’d spent a week here minding Otto, his perpetually unimpressed cat, and keeping his collection alive while he was on tour.

Now, the plants were wilting again, and the living room looked less like a home and more like a museum of bad decisions. Empty coffee mugs littered every surface, a half-eaten box of Jaffa Cakes sat fossilising on the arm of the sofa, and crumpled on the floor was the poster she’d gifted him—some avant-garde band with a name like “The Neon Gherkins”, their logo a swirl of neon vomit-green. He’d torn it down so violently the corner still clung to the wall by a stubborn strip of tape, swaying like a hanged man in the draft from the window.

The air felt heavy, thick with the ghost of her jasmine-coconut perfume and the sharper bite of James’s cologne—a clash of what was and what is. Even Otto seemed to be judging the chaos from his perch atop the bookshelf, tail flicking as if to say, “You’re both a disgrace.”

You found him in his bedroom, curtains drawn like a funeral shroud, wearing the same Nirvana shirt he’d had on three days ago, now speckled with dried toothpaste and what looked suspiciously like ramen broth. His laptop glowed faintly, illuminating a half-finished song titled “Unnamed (Demo)”. The screen showed a wall of lyrics mid-verse:

You said you loved the way I write, but you rewrote every line— now your paradise is just a cheap hotel sign. Jasmine in your hair, coconut on your skin, I hope your new

Scraps of paper littered the floor, balled-up and hurled in frustration. A fresh-looking half-empty mug of cold coffee sat beside his guitar, its lowest string snapped and coiled like a metal snake.

He didn’t look up when you entered, just strummed the same dissonant chord over and over, “Still workshopping your magnum opus?” you said, nudging a crumpled lyric sheet with your toe. 

James snorted, finally meeting your gaze. His eyes were bloodshot, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “It’ll be a hit. ‘Breakup Ballad #116’. Gonna drop it right after my collab with Lewis Capaldi’s sadder cousin.”

“Needs more cowbell,” you deadpanned, nodding at the forgotten tambourine under his bed—a relic from Clara’s “I’m definitely joining your band” phase. You tore open the bag of Monster Munch, plucking out a small handful of crisps and popping one into your mouth. The sharp tang of pickled onion hit your tongue as you passed the rest of the bag to James. “Otto’s been side-eyeing us since I walked in.”

James accepted the bag reflexively, staring at it like it might contain answers instead of fluorescent orange dust. “Cheers,” he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual bite. His thumb brushed the crumpled edge of the packaging, hesitant, as if even snacking felt like a betrayal of his self-imposed wallowing.

“Eat, you twat,” you said through a mouthful, nodding at the crisps. “Can’t have you passing out mid-emo-ballad.”

He huffed a laugh—thin, but real—and finally grabbed a handful. The crunch was obscenely loud in the quiet room. Otto flicked his tail from the doorway, his disdain palpable.

You flopped onto the bed beside him, shoulder bumping his. His phone buzzed on the mattress between you, lighting up with Clara’s latest Instagram story: a sunset time-lapse over turquoise waves, captioned “Good vibes only ✨”. 

“Wow,” you said, snatching the phone before he could. “She really went for the basic bitch aesthetic, huh? Groundbreaking. You’re still watching them?” You push a bit more, nodding to the phone.

He grimaced. “Dunno why. Masochism, probably.”

“Right. Let’s fix that.” You close the phone, and with a flick of your wrist, you send the phone sailing into the laundry basket across the room. It landed with a muffled thunk beneath a pile of graphic tees.

“Hey—!”

“Relax. It’s not like she’s texting you back.” You turned to face him, cross-legged. “Look, James. You’ve fallen in love 115 times. With her, it’s 116. So, as bad as it sounds, that’s nothing new.”

He blinked. “Since when do you keep track?”

“Since the girl from the coffee shop in Brighton who broke up with you when you said you didn’t believe in astrology. And the one who tried to sell you healing crystals at Glastonbury. And the bloke from Edinburgh who ghosted you after you made a joke about haggis.”

“Alright, point taken,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face like he could wipe away the last three days. His stubble rasped against his palm, a sound as raw as his voice.

You leaned forward, hand on his shoulder. “It’s time to continue, click and forget.” You mimed flicking a phone screen with exaggerated finality, like swatting a fly. “Unfollow. Block. Hell, unsubscribe if you’re feeling spicy. Later, if you have to fall in love again—”

“—I’ll fall in love again,” he finished flatly, parroting your words back at you. 

“Exactly. You like the idea of it—the rush, the playlist-making, the way she’d steal your jumpers and never give them back. But you’re out here competing with strangers now. Strangers.”

His frown deepened. “What’s that mean?”

“The ones she’s chasing. The ones she’ll lie to next. The ones who’ll think her ‘good vibes only’ shite is deep.” You pull back, shrug then continue, “Sure, she’s pretty. But let her stay on that trip, posting sunsets and pretending she’s the main character. But when she lands? No one’s gonna clap. No one’s gonna care that she traded your music for some bloke’s yacht pics.”

James’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away.

You softened, nudging his knee with yours. “One day, she’ll be forty-five, scrolling her ‘hot girl era’ highlights, and it’ll hit her—oh shit, the best thing I ever had was that idiot who wrote me a song. And you?” You grinned, sharp and teasing, nudging his shoulder again. “You’ll be too busy making a banger song.”

He stared at you, eyes red-rimmed and too bright, before chuckling wetly. “You’re such a prick.”

“Takes one to know one.”

James swiped at his face with his sleeve, but the tension in his shoulders had unravelled. He stared at the snapped guitar string, coiled like a question mark on the desk, before his voice broke the stillness—smaller now, stripped of bravado.

“D’you ever think maybe I’m just bad at it?”

You tilted your head. “Bad at what?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely at the room, the lyrics, and the phone sitting on top of the band tees. “Love. Or whatever the hell I keep chasing. What if it’s not her? What if it’s me? Just… forever the bloke who writes songs about people who leave?”

The admission hung in the air, fragile as the dust motes drifting through the laptop’s glow. You studied him—the way his hands trembled slightly, the crack in his voice he couldn’t quite smother. This wasn’t the usual self-deprecating joke. This was the bone-deep doubt he’d never let slip before.

You waited until he met your gaze. “You’re not bad at it. You’re just loud about it. Most people love quietly. You?” You nodded at the crumpled lyrics. “You turn it into art. Even when it’s messy. Especially when it’s messy.”

He scoffed, but it lacked heat. “Art that nobody hears.”

“So finish the song.”

“What’s the point? She’s not—”

“Not for her,” you cut in, rolling your eyes playfully. “For you. For the next person. For the twats like me who’ll eat crisps and listen to you whinge at 3 a.m.”

He hesitated, fingers brushing the laptop’s trackpad. The cursor blinked beside the unfinished line: “I hope your new—”

“Or,” you added, softer, “delete it. Burn it. Write about Otto. But don’t let her take this from you too.”

James exhaled sharply, as if the words had punched through a dam. For a heartbeat, you thought he might cry—but then he dragged a hand through his hair, sniffed hard, and muttered, “Fuck it. ‘Jasmine Lies’ is a banger title. Might as well make it a proper one.”

He deleted the struck-through lyrics, typing fast, almost defiant:

I hope your new fling knows the chords to this song— Hope he fucks up the bridge, and the joke’s on him all along.

You grinned. “There he is.”

“Piss off,” he said, but he saved the file, shoulders slumping like he’d set down a weight he didn’t know he’d been carrying.

Outside, the rain slowed to a drizzle. Otto leapt onto the bed, kneading James’s leg with claws-out precision. “Ow—Christ, Otto—” James softly shoved the cat aside, but there it was—the ghost of his real smile, tentative but true. Not fixed. Not yet. But trying.

This is the song that inspired this fic! I hope people like it, it's the first time I've done something platonic, so I hope I hit the mark!

[hangry-hoe]

STOP BC I JUST WANNA HUG HIM FROM BEHIND AND SHIT HELP HE LOOKS SO CUDDLELY AND SHIT

[4ngelrealm]

welcome to my blog𓂃˖ ࣪⊹

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ 'can't remember how to say your name'

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౨ৎ angel. aquarius. pink & green truther. taglist. 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧౨ৎ

before you request: things such as mlm/male!reader, trans!reader, etc. are things I will not write.

This is not because I intend to shame or exclude these people, but rather because I am uncomfortable to write about experiences that do not align with mine for fear of misrepresenting real experiences.

boundaries: 'dark' romance, ddlg and similar dynamics, degradation, threesomes, noncon, bondage/bdsm, daddy/mommy kinks, etc... are all things I choose not to write.