the one who simps

I fiddle with my safety belt. The seatbelt light hasn’t turned off yet, but I’m itching to free myself from the contraption strapped across my lap.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to London Heathrow. It is Thursday, January 23rd, local time is 9:47am. Enjoy your stay, or welcome home." My feet are bouncing, my AirPods are almost dead, and I’ve caught up on many, many, many hours of TV. Whilst I swap my SIM card, I let the rest of my row scurry out and collect their bags. I haven’t used this SIM card in eight months, and now it's vomiting up every random notification and text I’ve missed. Through it all, I text George.

As I go to leave the plane, a flight attendant nods at my University of Exeter hoodie. "Welcome home!" I smile politely and answer, "Thanks, it’s been a minute." The flight attendant — Eve, shout out to name tags — looks confused, as my accent betrays the hoodie.

I run a hand through my dishevelled hair, a mess from sitting on the plane for 14 hours. I actually haven’t slept in a real bed for three nights. With the developed world, surely getting from Brisbane to London could be cut down to one flight, not three (it definitely can, but it is so much cheaper to do layovers).

The grey skies of the United Kingdom press down on me like a heavy, suffocating blanket. They aren’t just clouds, they’re a constant weight that seems to swallow up the horizon and dull everything beneath them. Even when I lived in Manchester, I made the journey to London a dozen times, but every time, the skies felt like a mirror — a reflection of the same hollow, endless grey. The city could be bright with lights and energy, but that overcast sky, that heavy weight in the air, is the same across the whole island.

The blanket sky is still heavy, but it still carries a quiet kind of comfort. Maybe it’ll never match the sharp brilliance of the Brisbane sun. But here, beneath this endless grey, perhaps it can offer warmth, not weight.

Customs is a bore. I have nothing to declare and only a small suitcase to my name. Okay, I have a very large and very full suitcase, a small carry-on (also full), and a personal item that’s bursting at the seams. I also have my toothbrush and toothpaste in my back pocket. Not a good look. Still, I get waved straight through, and the waiting in lines was for nothing.

The terminal opens up in front of me. Its bright, busy, full of hugs and signs and little kids dragging tiny backpacks. I scan the crowd, already feeling the weight of my backpack.

"Y/N!" A familiar voice cuts through the low hum of reunions and baggage announcements. I turn. There’s George. I’d seen the mullet and the hint of stubble over FaceTime, it suited him well, maybe too well, but seeing him now in motion was something else entirely. His airport outfit, a sweater and slacks, was nothing crazy, but it was not something the footy-shirt Uni George would wear. He looked older. Calmer. And somehow, seeing him in the flesh stirred something unexpected, a quiet but insistent flutter in my chest.

"George!" I say back. We walk toward each other, arms outstretched. "We live in the same city again!" We embrace, and all those years come flooding back. I can still picture the day we met perfectly.

It was maybe day five of uni. I had actually already calculated how many days were left (not including weekends, bank holidays, and non-term time), the answer was 334. England was not what I thought it was going to be. People did not find my accent cool or endearing, but rather thought I was speaking a made-up language. I had gotten lost finding my Uni Halls, lost finding the Tesco, (wtf is a Tesco btw) and lost finding that very lecture hall.

Because I was late due to getting lost, I sat down hurriedly at the closest chair that wasn’t the front row. I just so happened to sit next to George. His hair was much shorter, his face clean-shaven, and he wore some kind of football shirt. The lecturer was already talking about tendons, and I opened my laptop. It was flat.I let out the kind of sigh you only hear from someone who's jet-lagged, laptop dead, and hopelessly new to a country they barely understand.

George offered to send me the notes, and so we spent the whole lecture giggling together, laughing at the lecturer's choice of outfit and the diagrams in the PowerPoint. From then we were almost inseparable. Even when I changed courses after a year (what was I even thinking, doing Sport and Exercise Science?) we remained close friends. He made Exeter feel like home. His laugh and his jokes could replace the Brisbane sun any day. We even lived together for six months, when his flatmate went travelling and my boyfriend dumped me suddenly. We fit well together. I taught him how to not cause nuclear warfare when cleaning a bathroom, and George taught me how to elevate any ready meal past the packet instructions.

When George graduated, he moved to London, and his lockdown TikToks inexplicably propelled him to fame. I always knew he would do great things. I was always a bit surprised he wasn’t into the drama or acting side of things at uni. He was always so funny and charismatic, so much so that his talents seemed wasted on being a PT, or whatever it is you do with a Sport and Exercise Science degree.

I went the other way. When I graduated, Manchester called me. I was offered a graduate programmer position with great benefits. The city was alive in a way that only big places could be, but after a few years, the relentless pace and the grey skies of northern England got to me. Homesickness hit like a ton of bricks.

So, I packed up and went back to Brisbane.

The months spent at home didn’t heal me like I thought they would. The sun was too hot and the accents too sharp. I was with family again, with the comfort of everything I knew, but the itch to do more, to push forward, kept gnawing at me. Not to mention everyone at home had moved on without me. Half my friends were doing what I did, living abroad, and the ones that were left were too busy getting married or starting families. So, when the opportunity in London came through, an offer I just couldn’t ignore, I knew it was time to pack my life up once more.

The Uber is too warm, the heater cranked up for someone who’s just survived 24 hours in transit. The windows are fogged slightly from the inside, giving the city beyond a muted, watercolour quality. Raindrops trail lazy patterns down the glass, and the windscreen wipers squeak in tired intervals. The car smells faintly of pine air freshener and something synthetic, maybe cleaning spray.

George’s voice fills the space easily. “Oh my god, I forgot how Australian you sound. We’re gonna barbeque some shrimp later, we gotta.”

I laugh, too tired to fully roll my eyes. The awkwardness we maybe should’ve had slips away like the condensation on the window. It’s just us again.

“Really? When I was home, everyone poked fun at how English I sounded. Also, we don’t even say shrimp, you idiot. We say prawn, just like you."

The driver doesn’t say much, just hums along to the soft lo-fi playlist playing through the speakers. Outside, London passes in shades of grey and brown. Victorian terraces, wet pavements, red buses blurred by rain. I lean my forehead against the cool glass for a moment, the city lights bleeding into my peripheral vision like old memories.

Inside the car, it feels safe. Familiar. George taps his fingers on his knee, in time with the music, and for a second I forget the jetlag, forget the toothbrush in my back pocket, forget that I’m technically homeless in a country I haven’t lived in for almost a year.

The rest of the ride was quick and strangely comforting, it was like slipping back into an old jumper, soft in all the right places. By the time we pulled up to George’s flat, we were already trading jabs like no time had passed.

George helps me into the spare room. I already know it’s not going to be empty, he’d warned me it had become a dumping ground for him and his roommates, but I hadn’t expected it to be this cramped. I can barely wedge my suitcases between the broken tripods and half-lit ring lights. The air smells faintly of dust and old extension cords. My bedside table, if you can call it that, is a cardboard box labelled costumes.

I perch on the edge of the camping cot, its frame creaking beneath me, and take it all in. This isn't just temporary mess. It’s the kind of chaos that grows roots. I feel out of place again, like I’ve been slotted awkwardly into a life that isn’t mine.

This isn’t how I pictured 25. Certainly not crashing on borrowed sheets in a friend’s overstuffed spare room, careful not to knock over a stack of prop wigs every time I roll over.

I have to remind myself that I chose this. I chose to move abroad for uni, to live in Manchester, to go home, and to come back again. Every decision led me here. But right now, ‘home’ feels like a word I’ve forgotten the shape of. I try to place my hands around it, to remember the last time it felt solid, close, mine. But the memory slips through my fingers, distant and half-lit.

"Once you're settled, me and the boys are gonna take you out for drinks, get to know everyone in the flat." I smile sweetly at George’s invitation-that-was-not-an-invitation. The jetlag is creeping in, slow and heavy, like fog rolling over my brain. It settles behind my eyes, in my limbs, weighing everything down. But I know better than to give in now. I can’t sleep before bedtime.

"Thanks George, that’s very sweet. I'm gonna freshen up a bit and maybe try to make a bit more space in here? Is that okay?" He agrees that I can move whatever I need, and to ask him before I throw anything away, but it’s probably all good.

The door clicks behind him as he leaves me to adjust. My new job is supposed to be the fresh start I need, but standing in my new 'bedroom', everything around me feels foreign. The dark London sky begins to drizzle again. It always drizzles here. Back home it’s either raining or it isn’t. I sigh and start to unpack, digging for my toiletries.

Recently, you haven’t been able to sleep. The thrill of the match still shocks you awake, every time there are new photos released or a new video, you are quick to engage. Slowly, videos are released from your other mates, and you eagerly tune in to see what they say.

It’s exciting. The feedback has mainly been positive, yet you still feel the uneasy flip in your stomach every time you see someone has released a video. It's all you can think about. And when you weren't thinking about football, you watched it on telly. You missed playing, the competition, the simple act of being active. It's given you a new surge of motivation, pushing you into creating.

The only downside of it all is that your phone has been buzzing with notifications today, especially. Usually, your phone mutes any notifications from social media, allowing you to not get sucked in all day. Truly, you do your best to ignore it, to ignore the increasing number you see every time you open Twitter, Instagram, or TikTok. But you're only human, and humans are quite curious.

You try not to think anything of it, occupying your time in the studio to film your own video about the charity match. You had B-roll shots, stills, and close-ups of players when you were benched. It was becoming a combination of all the things you adored, your friends, film, and football.

Once you begin to sit down to film a portion of the video, you review the brief script you had written until you feel your right pocket vibrate. Getting up to turn off the camera, you pull out your phone to see who's calling. And to your surprise, it's Chris. You slide open your phone and put it to your ear as you click the camera off.

"Do you need to tell me something?" Chris asks immediately, making your heart drop. You hadn't been hiding anything, spoke to him frequently, and were sure you didn't need to tell him anything.

"What? I don't think so, do I?" You wonder aloud. Chris groans loudly, making your phone speaker crackle in your ears. He doesn’t often text, matter of fact, Chris is a god-awful texter— and an even worse mate to call in a time of need. You could text him and he would go at least a week without responding, usually replying with “Sorry I thought I responded!”

Which makes you wonder, what could be so important that he called you first? Usually, like Simon, it was to help film, otherwise Chris would call to gossip. The boys loved gossiping, or catching up, as they would say.

"I've just seen Will's video," He starts, and you wait for him to continue, but it seems he's doing the same. "Came out a few hours ago.."

You walk in circles in the studio, a hand tapping the side of your thigh out of nerves. You knew Will was uploading his pov of the charity match sometime later in the week, but he didn't tell you exactly when. You'd be lying if you hadn't wondered what would be kept in your shared interactions, what Will said about you, and what Mikey would deliberately choose to keep in. It was a thought that had plagued your mind since Will had taken the GoPro off when you two returned to the hotel.

"Right, and what does that mean?" You huff, choking down the unease in your tone.

"Oh my god, have you seen it? You haven't, have you?" Chris exclaimed, and you could hear the small giggle he tried to stifle. "You two really are clueless, aren't you? It's ridiculous that our other mates are on Hinge actively trying to not be single, and you two do it by choice!" he joked hysterically.

“You’re a dickhead,” you cut in between his laughter, choosing to ignore the blatant comment about yours and Wills' peculiar relationship.

While Chris continues to make himself laugh, the curiosity is now starting to gnaw at you, causing you to stride over to your desk. Without another beat, your monitor is turned on, and you pull out the chair to get comfortable. You attempt to ignore his laughter as you open up YouTube, typing in Will's second channel name.

"Take a gander for me, will you? When you get the chance, of course," Chris says, and you can hear the wide grin on his face. You freeze, like you had just been caught, the mouse hovering over the thumbnail of the video. You look around the room, just to make sure you're alone.

"I suppose," you say slowly, sitting up straighter than before. Chris then goes on to talk about his latest endeavors, awful dates, video ideas, and the next time you two will see each other. Under other circumstances, you'd be happy to chat. But right now, all you wanna do is watch Wills latest video.

"Hey Chris, I gotta get back to filming this video, mate," you fib, leaning back into your chair, "I want it up by next week, and I'm the only one editing it."

"Oh yeah, yeah, I'm just chatting. Let me know when you watch that video, text me," he responds politely.

"If you even get back to me-" and the phone call ends before you can even say goodbye. You furrow your eyebrows at your phone before setting it down on the desk. You mumble the title to yourself,

SIDEMEN CHARITY MATCH (First Person POV) a bit more willne • 271k views • 3 hours ago

It can’t be that bad, is what you’re trying to convince yourself. You've existed on the internet for a long time now, and there isn't anything you can't handle. Clicking on the video, your heart starts hammering in your chest. You let a few minutes roll by, holding your breath, and then you see the moment when you tapped on Will's shoulder.

"I think I'm gonna shit myself," you let out, and Will watches it back with a soft smile and a tender chuckle.

“Awh poor y/n/n, she was really nervous the entire time, I felt so awful once we split up,” he says over the video.

There it is. The common burn on your face, the shiver down your spine, and the drumming of your heart against your chest. You hit the space bar, pausing the video, to cover your face in embarrassment.

Is it silly to be so riled up by a singular sentence? Are you crazy for wanting to analyze every little thing in the video? You seem to take note of everything. You notice the upturn on the corner of his lips, the way he plays with the ring on his pinky that you got for him-- a nervous tick he picked up, the shifting of his eyes down to his lap when he gets bashful. It's driving you crazy.

So, instead, you watch in complete silence for the rest of the video. It keeps you from pausing frames, reading comments, and feeling lightheaded. But you notice how the GoPro often faces where you're standing on the field, how Mikey left in the bits and pieces of you two interacting that could've easily been cut out. The small waves, subtle smiles, the hug you two shared after you had missed the goal. Half the time Will wouldn't say anything, he would just grin, reliving the moment, occasionally making small comments.

"She really is something, isn't she? Many good assists for her first match,"

and

"Look at that darlin' smile,"

Yet you didn't pause, you remained still in your seat, keeping your eyes glued to the screen as if blinking would take it away. Even though you could feel the air leave your lungs when you appeared on screen.

But then you reach the point where Will makes his goal.

You nervously bite your fingers as he celebrates, telling the audience the same thing he told you on the field, how he had never been a striker and always stayed in the back. The GoPro shot is now playing as Wills words fade into the background. The next few moments play, and it's where Will was screaming something intangible to you.

You aggressively turn up the volume all the way, turning on closed captions to be sure. Your mouse hovers over the timestamp, “most replayed,” and that's when you hear it.

"For you! I did it for you!"

It plays once, then you replay it, and then replay it again. You feel crazy. Taking in his every word, every move, was this okay? A moment that felt so raw and personal was now published for thousands to observe.

“For you! For you!” that’s what Will continues to shout at you on the pitch. And Will doesn’t say much about it, because just before was the clip of you saying he owes you a goal. But when you watch the video you feel like you’re back on the field. Chest heaving up and down, you can barely breathe, and there’s Will running at you shouting something you couldn’t make out. His skin sticking to yours as he embraces you, his hands gripping the side of your body with the proudest smile. A smile, that now says, that was for you.

Just like before, you pause the video, hands gliding through your hair. You don't finish the video. Instead, you step away from the computer and fall back onto the couch that you originally were going to film on.

Okay. It was pretty bad. You understand why your mentions have been blowing up all day and why Chris gave you a call. But it wasn’t like you hadn’t seen this before. Earlier on, you’d often get paired with any boy you came into contact with. It never got out of hand, and most of the time, you were able to ignore it, and the others would too.

But this time it was a little different. The next few days roll by and you aren't able to dodge it. The tweets, the teasing from friends, the edits, god the edits. When filming with friends you were always ready for a joke about Will to make an appearance.

And once you upload your video on the charity match, the comments are bombarded with curiosity and flood in quickly.

StarvxsmWillLoverforever Starting to see why will and y/n can't beat the dating allegations.. 349 likes 17 replies

marriottxmorgan Literally!!!

Admittedly, you feel a little crazy for reading the comments to see if others are picking up on what’s happening. You don’t need to rely on the audiences validation on what’s going— but it does make you feel a little more sane.

Despite it all, Will doesn't bring it up to you, nor does he make any insinuation that he knows about it when he comes by your flat one afternoon.

“Are you coming tomorrow night?” Will asks over your shoulder, his breath fanning the tips of your ears. You turn your head away from the show you're watching and lean back to create space. A chill is sent down your spine as the hairs on your arm stand. He leans over the couch, the sun casting shadows to create definition in the muscles on his arms. Your cat, calamari, follows him, weaving between his arms and purring. A fortuitous combination that focused all the things you loved in one home.

“To what? Watch you prats drink and make a fool of yourselves?” you bantered, turning your body fully to face him. "I have somewhere to be the next morning,"

Arthur mentioned how the lads were hitting the pubs over the weekend, but it seemed he failed to mention that you were meant to accompany them. Will shrugs, arms crossing over one another to lean closer to you.

“Chris said you would,” he insisted, and you could see the smile he was trying to hide. You roll your eyes and lean back onto the couch as Will picks up the feline, cradling her in his arms.

“Why does everyone keep saying I’ll do things before talking to me?” you wondered aloud.

“Because you always end up doing them darlin,” Will teases, kissing your pet before settling down in the open space next to you with Calamari in his lap. "I think Arthur owes Chris twenty quid if you go,"

The silence stretches, reminding you that you're playing house again with Will. There’s leftover takeout on the table, his coat lazily hanging off a chair, and the worn out ball you both had been passing around. The breeze that comes from the open window cools the burn on your face and clears the air of any tension. Your eyes sweep the room, before landing back on Will whose attention is on Calamari.

You awe silently, Will has a habit of adoring every pet he comes into contact with. And often, they end up loving him just as much. Without hesitation, you grab your phone, snapping a picture to save for later.

“I guess I don’t have anything else going on,” you say simply, tucking your phone back under your thigh.

“You don’t disappoint,”

Will stays for several more hours after that, watching telly with you, playing with mari, he watches as you write formal emails, and listens to your phone calls with your manager.

Between all this, you posted the photo of Will and Mari. No caption, no music, no tags, just the photo. You hadn’t thought much of it, a simple photo that was cute. Yet, Wills face wasn’t in it, just the wave of of his hair and the ring on his pinky finger— you weren’t trying to hide him. Either way, it didn’t stop your audience from finding out who it was.

So the hours before you were finally going to get some sleep, were left with you refreshing your phone.

“Fucks sake,” you mumble under your breath, before turning off your phone frustratedly for the night and going to bed.

The music is loud, but the chatter is more audible. You hesitate, not wanting to leave the solace of the cool air. Bars made you anxious, so did large crowds of people, and the only anecdote to that right now—was to drink.

You push open the door, immediately being met with loud cheers as older couples watch the game on the multiple TVs that are displayed. You take a second look at the location you were sent, and you seemed to be in the right place.

Slipping around groups, and bumping into couples, you eventually end up slamming into a familiar face.

“Y/N! Thought you weren’t coming for a second there, mate!” Chris steadies you, yelling over Queen playing on the big speakers. Fixing the pieces of hair that got caught in your lipgloss, you give a shy smile.

“I got wrapped up in editing,”

“We’ve got to get you an editor,” Chip chimes in, appearing with the rest of the lot. You roll your eyes in response, eyeing him.

"Yeah, yeah,” you say dismissively, crossing your amrs over one another. “Where’s Sabina?”

"She was knackered and didn't know if you were coming or not! I'll text her, tell her you are thinking of her," he responds politely, pulling out his phone to text his girlfriend. Gaze sweeping the group, you count six men, minus Will, and that’s when reality to hits you—

"This is awful! I'm stuck babysitting you blokes all night, again," you express, the palms of your hands pressing against your eyes.

"Oh we're not all bad," a voice comes from behind you, warmth radiating on your back. And without even turning around, you know it's Will. One of his hands leans against the bar, outstretching infront of you, while the other holds a half empty glass. You crane your neck to look over your shoulder, and Will is looking down at you, head slightly tilted with a small grin.

It's suffocating, his eyes on you, yours on his, and everybody elses on the both of you. It feels more intimate than when Will has fallen asleep in your bed after a quiet evening. This is a public display, both of you slotting together like pieces in a puzzle, your back pressing into his chest accidentally.

"And when you end up singing down the street and getting carried by George later, tell me that," He laughs lightly, breath fanning your face with tequila and mint. He still has the same smile that looked at you, and only you, with adoration.

"Another pint, anyone?” Stephen asks.

“Oi! Shots in celebration!” Cal insists instead.

“We could just do both, really,” you offer, and the rest seem to rally at the suggestion.

"Brilliant idea,"

The lot of you kill more time with conversations about formula 1, filming, football, and more importantly, shots. You could feel the music in your feet, sending shock waves to your racing heart. The pub continued to get more crowded as time went on, allowing you to sneak away to use the bathroom for a moment of silence and peace. The liquor you drank burned your throat and sat heavy in your stomach, while it eased your anxiety and loosened your joints, it was making you impulsive.

There’s surprisingly no line, and your out in no time, fixing your smudged mascara in the foggy mirror. You reach for your purse, only to realize you don't have it, and you also don't have your phone. Quickly, or as quickly as you can handle, you move out of the bathroom and into the crowded hall.

You must've left it at the booth, or maybe outside when you needed fresh air, or maybe by the pool table? You strain your neck, going on your tip toes to sweep the room. Once, twice, and then your eyes fall on Will. He's on his phone, and theres a black bag that hangs on his shoulder.

You feel a sense of relief wash over, but also your heart skip a beat.

“William, I think you have something of mine,” You say loudly, drawing his attention away from his phone, down to you.

“What? This? I have one of these myself,” he says jokingly, sliding the purse off his arm and onto the counter next to you both. He then digs in his pant pocket, fishing out your phone and sliding it next to your purse. Under the awful lights, his hair is shinning and freshly washed, the hair near his ears is short meaning that it was newly cut.

“You look better without those hats,” you observe aloud. Your hand reaches and brushes through his hair, ruffling it, “Have you ever considered a mullet? You’d suit one,”

Will tilts his head, like a puppy, his eyes big and bright— “Noted,” and only now, you notice how the rest of the lads had scattered, and Will was by himself. You look over your shoulder, then reaching on your tiptoes to search for the boys.

“Were you waiting for me?” You observe, even though you meant to only think that. You couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

Will shrugs, trying to hide the small smile that dared to creep on his face.

“Kinda,”

"You can't kinda wait for someone,"

"I was going to wait for you anyway, but then you left your bag near the pool table, gave me a good excuse." Will's gaze swept the room— their friends nearing on the edge of being plastered, singing and talking to strangers. He was searching for something, not someone, but something else.

Grabbing your attention, the bartender slings two pints your way, "For the couple," he winks, making your face burn. You both don’t say anything at first, the atmosphere shifting to try to mold to both of your comforts.

The air had changed, suddenly gotten so dry and tight that it made Will's body stiffen. Ignoring the comment, Will grabs the glass and inspects it before taking a small sip.

“Are you.. seeing what people are saying?” Will asks as you grab the glass left unattended. "About us,"

His voice was low, eyes fixed somewhere just passed your shoulder, like looking at you directly might unravel something you both aren't ready for.

You shift uncomfortably, of course you did. How could you not? Every day since Will posted the video, when Ieuans' photos were released of both of you, last night's post— you’d been getting tagged in edits, clips, everything. The question was big, pointed, and unexpected.

“Yeah, I’ve seen a few things,” you lie, hiding your unease by squeezing the class tighter.

The look on Wills face, you’ve seen it before. When editing software crashes, or when an unplanned event happens during a video, this time it’s a little different. There’s tension in his brows, his jaw isn’t clenched, instead theres doubt, uncertainty, that strains him.

“It’s okay, Will, I swear it doesn’t bother me.” you reassure, “Unless it.. it uh, bothers you, of course—“

“No! No, that isn’t, no, it doesn’t bother me at all,” he sputters earnestly. Will's eyes meet yours—guarded but still steady—before clamping his mouth shut. Holding back on the words dancing on his tongue.

"Okay," You slowly nod, as if you’re still processing it as you’re responding. You should leave it at that, finish your drink and head back towards the group— “Then why did you bring it up?”

What did they put in the liquor tonight?

In all the time you've known Will, he's not a good liar. He’s also not good at hiding what he’s feeling on his face. His tongue presses against the inside of his bottom lip, face twisting to avoid an awkward grin.

“I thought it would make you uncomfortable,” he mutters, his eyes darting down to look at the foam in his glass. You shift, hesitantly moving closer to Will to capture his attention.

“What? No, it’s never made me uncomfortable before. Should it?” You ask, hand grazing his forearm. Which makes Will look at you before he shrugs, quiet and shy, similar to when you first met him.

"I've seen what it's done to other people, it could have a horrible ending,"

“Doesn’t have to,”

“But it could,”

“That stuff doesn't change anything, we're still..." You begin defensively, before the weight of your words slowly starts to settle. "..where we are,”

You chew at the inside of your cheek, the adrenaline bleeding out of your system. You don’t pick up on the shock on Wills face at first, but after a beat of silence you realize the depth of what you just said. Slowly, you swallow the sip from your drink, giving you enough time to possibly save yourself.

But you don’t say anything.

You both stare at each other incredulously.

“Well, where are we, y/n?" Will probes. He can see it now, the look on your face, the shock, the stature of your posture, the mistake it was saying that outloud. You know he’s asking because he already has an answer in his head, but he wants you to reaffirm it. You know Will, and Will knows you, it’s inescapable.

The silence is telling, even amongst the loud chatter in the pub. You’re convinced you two are the only ones not talking. The look on his face says he’s waiting for you to say something else, but you don’t. You swallow and lick the dry cast on your lips, being the first to break eye contact. Breaking the string tying you two together at this moment.

“Y/n, be honest with me—”

“Hello! What are we standing around for? We’re doing karaoke in the back, George has already had one too many as you can tell,” Chris comes over, his hands clasp Wills shoulders from behind. Chris looks at you first, and then glances to Will, noting the two of you saying nothing. Chris quirks an eyebrow, mouthing something along the lines of “Bad time?”

“Stop sitting around and flirting, will ya? At least when George flirts with him, he shares,” Stephen says teasingly, comes up to join you lot. He doesn’t note the tension between the two of you, or he totally does and just doesn't care. Both of which are completely plausible answers.

“Right, I’ll come on over,” You affirm quickly, seeing this as your only out of the hole you dug yourself into. You give one last glance to Will, and his face is twisted. His eyebrows furrow together, and his lips are slightly parted, it’s a look that reads we’re not done.

But you give him a pleading look that says not right now. 

…⚽️

Will doesn’t say much for the next two hours. He lingers in the back of the group, occasionally sipping on his drink or checking the time on his phone. And you try your best not to stare, knowing that if you look his way— he’ll already be looking at you. He does eventually join the others for karaoke, obnoxiously singing and joining in on music that is playing while you all walk to the next place.

It’s left a pit in your stomach. Knowing that the next time you and Will are alone, you’ll have to be the rawest form of yourself. The part that you’ve been desperate trying to repress and lock away. You’ve never spoken much about how you really feel, afraid that if you start, you’ll never stop. Your feelings for Will are like an oil spill, a match could be dropped and everything would be caught on fire.

You can feel it, the anxiety, it started at your toes and it’s slowly crept it’s way up your torso. The walls are closing in and time is escaping. All because Will doesn’t speak to you, his fingers tapping the table rhythmically, his leg bouncing up and down causing friction to the table. You needed to talk now, even if it was going to ruin you.

Strategically, you get up from the table with a rather forced smile.

“I think it’s time for me to go home fellas,” you announce just after you all had arrived at a new pub. You had been to three pubs already, downed 4 shots, a tequila soda, a couple pints, and a dirty martini. Your shoes were sticking to the wood floors, phone on the verge of dying, and you were tired of having to hover while using the public restrooms.

“Oh not yet, y/n! The night is still young,” George teasingly pleads, and when he leans over to pull you in for a hug you can smell the liquor on his breath. Your nose wrinkles as you pat his back, giving him a small shove after. Unlike Will, it wasn’t as endearing .

“You are so hammered,” you comment, the interaction making the group laugh.

“You aren’t hammered enough,” Cal counters, leaning over to offer you his drink, to which you decline. His eyes are glossed over, and he has this lopsided grin that reads trouble.

“Take care of him won’t you?” You say, pointing at Stephen who shakes his head in response. Regardless, he grabs Cal, and shakes him.

“You stupid, fuckin idiot,” Stephen mutters to Cal, taking the glass between his hands and smelling it. His nose twitches, yet he still takes a small swig, coughing after the fact.

“Drinkin vodka that tastes and looks like medicine, you’re an odd man,”

“Seriously, I’ve got to get going,” Getting up, you shrug your coat on as you briefly say goodbye to everyone.

“We’ll take care of your husband, don’t worry,” Stephen jokes, forcing Cal to sit down in the process.

“You should really work on taking care of yours,” Chris bites back. You roll your eyes, trying to shrug off the overdone comment.

“No one vomit,”

“Will do miss,”

“Can’t promise anything,”

Telling Arthur to tell Chip you said goodbye, smacking Chris on the head for saying you’d come tonight, and finally, you wave to Will.

He nods at you, lifting his drink as acknowledgment. You pause, giving time for more to happen. You expect Will to join you, you hope he does, because you linger for a moment too long that everyone else notices— but he doesn’t. His body still, leaned back into the chair he sat in. Wills eyes flicker back towards the lads, and he doesn’t take a second glance. He’s letting you walk away.

So you walk away.

And once you’re out of the bar, you convince yourself you’ll hear his footsteps from behind. Ones that are hurried and rushed, maybe he was just taking his time to say his goodbyes. Will never let you leave without him, he always accompanied you, eventually going back to each others flat and falling asleep there. But you glance over your shoulder, once, twice, and before you know it, you’re on the train home. It leaves a hollow feeling in your heart, a cold chill that courses through your bones.

You don't remember the last time you left an event, a hangout, or even a video when Will didn't leave with you. You purposefully left thinking he would follow, but he didn’t, so maybe it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe you’re reading too much into it, he had a lot to drink and hasn’t been able to get out very much— he was just having a good time!

Looking at your phone, with 5% left, you go to your messages. Waiting for his text seemed desperate, but he always sent you one after a night out, it was normal. Whatever normal means to you both.

With a loud groan, and a frustrated tug on your hair, your phone shuts off and you let it fall onto your lap. No phone, no company, and no alcohol. What a shit way to end the night.

Now you’re left to wonder on the ride home if that was casual, or if you’re an idiot.

Recently, Will hasn't been able to sleep. Ever since he watched you walk out of the pub a few nights ago, he's felt this lingering regret. He hasn’t seen, texted, or called you since that night. And normally, he sends you a text to make sure you got home safe, but he didn’t even do that. Instead he anxiously turned off his phone the rest of the night and has been avoiding the feeling since.

At first, Will thought it best to keep it to himself, until one morning Will gave James a call in the early afternoon.

“Y/n says rubbish all the time, it could mean nothing,” James comments. 

“No! You knobhead! She had this, this look and she said it like she regretted it,”

“Or it could mean everything, and you’ve completely screwed up–” James continues to mumble to himself.

“Why don’t you just make me feel worse about the situation, yeah?” Will huffs.

“This is why I didn’t want to give you my honest opinion because I’m not involved in the situation. How am I supposed to know what look she had?” James points out.

“You’ve known her just as long as I have,” Will says quietly, picking up the dishes left on his bedside table and bringing them out into the kitchen.

“What, you want me to write a song about it?”

“James!” Will whines. 

“Okay, okay, what else happened?” Will sucks in air through his teeth, trying to recall the rest of the night.

“She left after a couple hours, that’s it,”

“What’s the matter with you?! You let her leave?” James yells over the phone, causing Wills eardrums to pop in response.

“What was I supposed to do? Follow her on the chance that she tells me that it was nothing?” Will argues, setting the dishes into the sink. There’s a silence over the phone before another loud yell,“YES!”

A beat of silence goes by, and then a wave of realization washes over. Will loudly groans, his palm banged against the counter sharply then slaps his forehead.

“..I’m a proper idiot, aren’t I?” Will asks, but mainly to himself. Finding himself leaning against his kitchen counter, pressing his phone to his ear with just his shoulder. He lets out another heavy sigh, using the pads of his fingers to rub circles on his temple and forehead.

“Mate, what do I do?” Will asks defeatedly. James shifts over the phone, drawing his attention back to the phone call. He can hear James footsteps stop, settling down to think about the question.

“Realistically, you talk to y/n. You’ve known her since you were twenty-two, If you don’t talk to her now you’ll be dancing around your feelings until you’re sixty, and by then she’ll have grandkids. You and I both know that this isn’t going away anytime soon,” 

“Why are we being nasty?” Will says, a small exhausted smile making its way onto the corners of his mouth.

"I'm not! But I think it's ridiculous that you have any reason to believe that your feelings aren't reciprocated," James explains calmly. His tone was sure, confident, Will doesn’t think he’s ever heard James be so serious before.

"Have you been watching those edits of her and i recently?" Will tries to steer the conversation where it doesn’t put him in a vulnerable spot. Lightening the mood with a small quip, “They’re quite good, I can see how it would get in someone’s head,”

"Maybe. But regardless, I can still see how obvious it is that you two want to be together. Do us all a favor, Will. Make it happen. I don’t know what you're waiting for, really.” James confesses. As much as it was a weight off Wills shoulders, it was a weight off his as well.

So that's what Will does. After the phone call, he writes and deletes, and rewrites the text he's attempting to send you. Before he knows it, the sun is setting and he’s wasted the day away. So, instead, he gives up and heads towards your flat and arrives at seven sharp. No phone call, no text, just him.

With a small knock at your door, and his nerves making his hands twitch, he waits.

Will hears a few meows from inside, and then footsteps, before you slowly open the door.

“Will, hey,” you say softly, your eyes big with surprise. Will cradles a ball between his arms and a black jumper, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Sorry for showing up unannounced, I just..” Will trails off for a moment, suddenly forgetting how to breathe. You observe his nervous nature, and stay still, patient.

“Do you wanna go for a walk, maybe?” he asks carefully, trying to give you space if that’s what you need. You lean against the door frame shrugging,

“It’s cold out,”

“I brought an extra jumper,” he says immediately, and your stature seems to soften. He holds it out for you, an expensive black knitted jumper he always wore in videos. From where you stood, you could smell his cologne, it makes you feel giddy. Even though you were still angry at how he disappeared the last few days.

“Alright, let’s go for a walk then,” you decide finally, knowing that Will wasn’t here for just a walk. He knows you know that, but the look on your face makes him feel a little more hopeful than before.

TAGLIST: @dandelionpixels @ooostarwarsfandom501st @melancholicandmessy @migilini @lyssaluvs @alysbaby @kneelforloki @formulaal @f10pc @i-need-to-be-put-down @blu-cuffie @ellouisa17 @marijas-stuff @pianor481 @flashyourgreeneyesatme @whistlef0rthechoir @edgyficuselastica

romantic

ৎ୭𖤐ꪆৎ whatever happens, i’m letting it

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine

ꪆৎ d.i.l.f

platonic

romantic

ꪆৎ whatever happens, i’m letting it

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven

platonic

🕷️ SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.

🕸️ WARNINGS - story will contain mentions of blood, broken bones, weapons, suggestive language, and more. all versions of peter are between the ages of 19-23 in this story. I will try to update warnings accordingly for each chapter, but please read at your own discretion

PART ONE // back at the beginning

“Don’t smart-mouth me, Maybank.” 

“You love my smart mouth,” he teases, pinching your cheek playfully. 

Once again, his hopes were wrong, because while he was praying for a glimpse of that smile that made his knees weak, your hand came flying at him for a third time. Luckily for him, he was quick, catching your wrist and pulling you to stand right in front of him. 

“You’re gonna wanna be real careful about what you do next, princess.” Powerful blue eyes locked with yours and you knew that he’d won. “Gotta say, this is not the welcome I was expecting. Kinda hoped I’d get a kiss or somethin’.” 

Your heart sang at his comment, but you remained focused on the outside, keeping your face straight. 

“For what? Being an idiot?”

Then, he gave you the face. 

Pouty, and adorable, and JJ, and just like he had planned, you started to fold. 

You couldn’t stay mad at him if you tried. 

Even if he helped. 

“I’m sorry. I’m just worried. You aren’t invincible, you know.” 

He visibly softened at your words, as if he wasn’t soft on you before, and he released your wrist. But he didn’t give your hand back to you. Instead, he kept it with him, mindlessly playing with your fingers so he wouldn’t have to give up the physical contact.

“C’mon. You really think I’m gonna let anythin’ stop me from annoying you for the rest of your life? Not a chance, baby.” 

Baby. Uh oh. Your resolve was beginning to waver. 

“‘N the reason I came is ‘cause I didn’t want my pretty girl alone in this mess,” he murmured, and you detected some shyness in his voice. “Besides, when have we ever spent a storm night apart?” 

Aaand it was gone. 

Vanished. 

He always knew how to get you. Then again, you always let him. 

You tilted your head, fighting a smile and losing miserably when it broke free. “Alright. I guess you’re sweet. Even if you’re an idiot.” 

“There’s my girl,” he grinned. “Now gimme a hug. I’m cold.” He tried to reach out for you, but you backed away, putting more distance between you two.

“No way, you’re soaked,” you laughed, now extremely grateful for the cozy pjs you were sporting.

“Oh, c’mon. You’re really not gonna hug me?” He picked up an old-timey accent when he spoke next, “I ventured through the brave storm to see you, m’lady. The least you could do is offer me a warm embrace.” 

He was so animated with it that it was damn near impossible not to giggle. “My sincerest apologies, sir. You seem to be out of luck.” 

“Alright, that’s it.” 

Before you knew it, JJ lunged at you. You let out a squeal, running as fast as you could with your socks slipping against the marble tiles. 

It took a little bit of time, and you’d covered a lot of area in the house by the time he finally captured you. Strong, brawny arms wrapped around your frame and picked you up right off the ground. He spun you around in the air a few times, relishing in the sun-soaked laughter that escaped you before putting you down. 

You turned around in his grip, looking incredibly earnest when your hands came to rest on his arms. “Thanks for coming to save me. Not that I needed it.” 

He smiled warmly at your statement. “I’ll always come ‘n save you,” he said, capturing your chin between his fingers. His thumb stroked over your chin softly. “You’re my Y/N/N. Nothin’s more important than you.” 

You found yourself stuck in an intense stare with him yet again, your heart thumping loudly at his sincerity and gooey sweetness. 

“Come on. You need to shower before you get sick.” 

You grabbed his hand, but he came willingly with a lovestruck look you couldn’t see. 

“Yes, ma'am.” 

—

After shoving JJ into the shower and practically pouring a hot cup of tea down his throat to ensure he was warm from the inside out, the two of you found solace in your cozy and — in JJ’s words — kooky bed with your backs against the pillows and headboard. 

“Make fun all you want but you and I both know I have to drag you out of here kicking ‘n screaming every time you sleepover.” 

“…Shut up.”

Despite his words, JJ huddled closer to you under the plush covers. The wind howled outside, alongside the occasional rumble of thunder. If it weren’t for the light casting around the room from your TV, and the entirely hilarious sitcom How I Met Your Mother playing in the background, the ambience would’ve made the room feel eerie.

“So,” JJ began, breaking the silence, “you heard from your parents lately? Thought they were supposed to come back this week?” 

Ah, yes. Your parents. 

From a young age, you’d learned not to expect much from the people who had brought you into the world.

The minute they realized they could, they’d handed you off to a nanny and threw themselves back into the lives they’d lived before you had arrived. Your mom went heavy on the scotch and retail therapy, and your dad had re-immersed himself in his work. When he wasn’t doing that, he was squandering his free time away at the country club, playing golf and consuming copious amounts of alcohol alongside your mother.

Anything to get out of the house, and, evidently, away from you. 

The older you grew, the less you saw of them as they travelled the world for business. By the time you were fifteen, you’d pretty much been living in that enormous mansion all by yourself for ten months out of the year. 

Sometimes, even more. 

Not that you’d ever voice your complaints to them. You knew they wouldn’t hear you. They’d simply spew out something along the lines of ‘Sweetheart, you’ve never had to work for anything in your life. if you had, you’d understand that we can’t be there for every silly little dance recital or graduation.’ 

And yes, that included your high school graduation. 

When they did spend time with you, that time would be filled with snarky comments about your appearance and about your sympathy for the pogues. Nothing about you ever seemed to satisfy them.

But somehow, amid the loneliness and abandonment you’d been able to comprehend from far too young of an age, you’d found and held onto the one person who made it all melt away. 

JJ. 

It was the first day of second grade, and all the children in your class were colouring. All of them except for the little blonde boy who sat across the room, by himself, with a blank sheet of paper in front of him, but nothing to colour with. You were only six at the time, but you could sense that he was alone too. And your heart hurt for him because it hurt the same way for you. 

So, you got up from your seat, grabbed your paper and your sixty-four pack of crayons (the pack that every child dreamt of having) and trotted off to his table. You perched yourself in the chair beside his and offered to share your crayons with him. 

At first, he just stared at you. You thought that maybe he didn’t want you there, but then, you saw the tiniest glimpse of his dimple when he gave you a small smile, nodding. 

“Thanks.” 

And now, a decade and a half later, you were just as inseparable as you had been since that very first day. 

Your house was now considered a home, had been since the moment JJ first stepped onto the marble flooring with his boyishly muddy shoes. He filled the aching silence with laughter and excitement and finally, finally, some cherishable memories. 

Like how he’d helped you climb your first tree, and carried you on his back into your house after you’d scraped your knee while doing so. Camping in your backyard and sprinting inside once non-forecasted rain came pouring down on your flimsy little kiddy tent. He’d accidentally stolen your first kiss (and he’d never admit it, but he was and still is overjoyed to have done so). Movie nights where he’d let you pick the film and sit happily while you pushed his hair back and applied a face mask to his tanned skin. 

Anything you wished for, JJ would give it to you without a second thought. Any time you needed him, he’d drop everything to run over to you. He was loyal, sweet, hilarious, thoughtful, and though he was good at hiding it from the light, his heart was pure gold. 

But what had mattered most to you was that in a world where everyone close to you had chosen to leave, he was the one who had stayed. 

Without him, there was noise. 

With him? Quiet. 

Peaceful, and calm, and quiet. 

No one turned your world like him. And that made it that much more inevitable to fall for him. 

The feeling of JJ’s finger tapping against your temple broke you out of your daze. “Hey. You in there?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you replied. “My mom called me a couple days ago to tell me they cancelled their flight. They’re coming back on Monday instead.” 

“So, basically, what I’m hearin’ is that they just didn’t wanna be stuck in the house with you all weekend.” 

“Precisely.” 

You mocked your mother’s voice when you spoke next. “You know I can only take that sorry little island in small doses. Besides, if we come home now, we’ll be holed up in the house during that storm. Why on earth would I trade my penthouse view for that?”

JJ gave you a sad look, obviously upset for you. It wasn’t like he expected much from them either, but he knew that deep down, even if you refused to admit it, it stung. 

They really couldn’t spend one weekend with you? Being with their daughter is that much of a hardship for them? 

“Stop. It’s fine.” And you meant it. These kinds of stunts were nothing new to you. You didn’t think they were gonna race home to you to make sure you were okay. A quick text would suit them just as well. 

“Don’t do that,” he stopped you. “You’re allowed to be upset. Your parents are assholes.” 

Assholes that were so far past unaware of the remarkable person they’d given life to. It shook him to his core, the realization that someone so beautiful both inside and out had come from two cold and selfish people. 

But if they would never appreciate you, who cared, because JJ knew he always would. 

He’d never let a single moment pass without telling you how special you were. How much you’d helped him, given him a safe haven and shoulder to cry on when he needed it. 

Given him peace. 

And, if he ever worked up the damn courage…he’d spend every minute of the rest of his life telling you how much he loved you. 

You just shrugged in response. “It is what it is. I’m luckier than most.” 

He frowned at that. It’d always hurt him to watch you belittle your problems just because you were better off financially. It was almost as if you were numb.

“Well, at least they’ll be here for your birthday. That’s somethin’.” 

“Nah, they’re flying back to New York on Friday.” 

“Are you serious?” He asked, sitting up straight now. “They couldn’t wait one day?” 

“You know how they feel about birthdays, J.” 

That was true. JJ had heard them give you the ‘Why should you be rewarded for being born? That isn’t an achievement,’ talk countless times over the years. They’d just stick a wad of cash into your nanny’s hand and tell her to take you out to the mall as if their missing your birthday would be fixed with a shopping spree. 

As if it would erase the resentment you knew they felt toward you. 

“That doesn’t make it right,” he said, growing frustrated. “Y/N/N, it, like, sickens me to keep watchin’ ‘em treat you like this. You gotta say something.” 

“Like what, J? They’d never listen. Just drop it.” 

He deflated a bit, leaning back into his original position. “Look, ‘m sorry, okay? I just…I don’t get it. You’re amazin’, you’re— you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t know how they don’t feel the same.” 

Damn it. There he went again, making it impossible for you to be in a sour mood. 

Gingerly, you turned to him, sitting with your legs criss-crossed. “You’re the only one keeping me going, y’know that? I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

He sat up once more and cupped your cheek, thumb brushing against the apple of it as he looked deep into your eyes. It felt like he was staring into your soul. 

“I promise you’ll never have to find out.” He looked down then, biting his lip slightly before meeting your gaze again. “I put that on my life.”

The rest of the world faded away while the two of you stayed in that moment, frozen in time as if you were a scene captured in a snow globe. 

It was times like these when you felt yourself start to believe the things Kie was always telling you. 

“I’m just saying, like, how do you not see it?” 

She’d been up your ass ever since the boys had split up from you two and left The Wreck. Kie was working at the counter, filling up drinks and cashing out takeout orders. 

Oh, and pestering you about JJ’s so-called affections for you.

“Maybe because I’ve known him since we were six and I know what it looks like when he flirts with other girls,” you remarked.

“Okay, but, like, you’re not just some random girl to him. You’re you.”

You made a face. “I don’t even know what that means.” 

The groan that emitted from her lips was loud enough to catch the attention of countless customers, but she didn’t seem to care.

“You’re impossible,” she said, placing the lids on three soft drinks. “I’ve known JJ almost as long as you have, and in that time, one thing about him has always been crystal-fucking-clear. He’s in love with you. Always has been, always will be.”

“Whatever you say,” you hummed in response, taking a sip of your Coke and pushing away the warm, fuzzy feeling floating through you at the thought of her words being true. 

Meanwhile, JJ was struggling not to act on his desires. 

It was the perfect moment. 

You were quite literally in his hands — or hand, rather — looking as beautiful as ever. He could kiss you. Right now. Plant one on you, a real kiss, unlike that accidental peck he shared with you at the age of twelve. He’d truly get to taste you this time around and silently convey all his love for you. 

And then, fate helped him out. 

The lights flickered and cut out in time with a rumble of thunder, leaving the two of you in complete darkness. 

JJ took it as a sign. 

He leaned forward, and his lips connected with yours. It was soft, tentative at first to see if you’d back off or push him away. To his surprise, your hand snaked up his front, fisting his shirt and pulling him closer. He took that as permission and kissed you deeper, his tongue stroking against yours in a dizzying fashion. The action made you moan into his mouth, and he pocketed the sound in his mind, saving it for later when he was alone and was thinking about you. 

And not in an innocent way. 

JJ’s hands found your waist, sliding down to your hips before tugging you closer. You took his invitation and clambered your way onto his lap, your lips never leaving his. 

God, kissing him felt good. Too good. It was nothing like you’d ever imagined. No, it was better. He kissed you like he’d stop breathing if he didn’t. Like the world would burst into flames and end right then and there if he let go of you. 

You didn’t know what was happening, and frankly, in fear of the truth, you had no plans of asking him. If this was the only way you could ever have him, you’d take it without a second thought, consequences be damned. 

You were sure that your decision was nowhere near wise, but there was simply no time for wisdom. 

JJ, your JJ, was kissing you. Kissing you and touching you and giving himself over to you, even if it was only for one night. 

And if doing this was wrong, for once in your life, you didn’t want to be right.

JJ’s hands pulled at the hem of your shirt, and you broke the kiss to let him strip you of it. He tossed it carelessly while his eyes landed on your bare tits. 

“Christ,” he whispered, his hands coming up to cup them both. “These are fuckin’ perfect.” 

His thumbs brushed over your nipples and you shivered. “J.” 

“Shh. I gotchu, baby. Relax for me, yeah? Let me take my time?” 

“Yeah,” you breathed. “But can you take your shirt off? Wanna see you too.” 

He smiled. You were so damn sweet, it would nearly give him a toothache. “Yeah, pretty girl. I can do that.” 

JJ shrugged off his beat-up Heyward’s tee, discarding it on the floor. You ogled at him, at least ninety percent sure that huge red cartoon hearts were projecting from your eyes. 

“You’re droolin’ a bit, there,” JJ teased, thumbing at your lip. 

Heat crept up into your face at his comment. “Shut up.” 

On the inside, he loved the way you were looking at him. You handled him delicately, hands cradling his face as if he were an intricate piece of artwork that you wanted to study and commit to memory. 

Every line, every slope, every curve.  

Every last stunning piece of him.

“You’re so beautiful, J.” 

JJ had been loved by you since elementary school. Sure, it was in a best friend's way, but being loved by you had changed his world. Now, with the way you were looking at him, the way you were speaking to him, the way you were touching him…he couldn’t help but imagine that this was what it’d be like to really be with you. 

He turned bashful, his heart still fluttering at your words. “‘M supposed to be sayin’ that to you. Look at you.” 

“Stop that,” you said, looking him right in the eyes. “You deserve to be loved on. Let yourself have this. Let yourself feel loved, J.” 

Those words echoed in his mind. JJ never felt like he deserved anything good, so he always pushed those opportunities away. Ruined them and made them inaccessible. But with you in his arms, pleading with him to let you show him that he was worthy, he started to believe that maybe he did deserve something positive. 

And if it were coming from you? Well, he’d take it without question.

He surged forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. He wanted to kiss you until his lips were sore, and even then, he wouldn’t stop. 

With greedy hands, the both of you touched every sliver of skin you could find, your lips never leaving the others for a second. Your hands found their way to JJ’s unruly golden locks, fingers carding through them so you could tug on them a little. A deep rumble of satisfaction came from JJ’s throat, and the noise had been so heavenly that your hips started to roll against his on their own accord. 

The friction was toe-curling, so addicting that you couldn’t stop rutting against him even if you wanted to. He was hard as a rock, and big. So big. You didn’t even need him to get naked to know you were right. 

“F-Fuck,” JJ stammered against your lips, though his hands didn’t stop helping your hips move. “Keep goin’ ‘n I’ll cum before I’m even inside you.” 

“But you feel so good,” you whined. Your brows were pulled together and your jaw was slack, the stimulation already getting you close. “Oh my god.” 

“Baby—”

“Please, J. I need it. Don’t make me stop. P-Please don’t make me stop.” 

You were right on the edge, and all JJ could focus on were your pretty pleas and the desperation written all over your face. He wanted to watch you explode, wanted to watch you go slack as the pleasure rolled through you. Wanted to hear what you sounded like when you came for him.

So he encouraged you. 

“Go ‘head, pretty girl. Make a mess. Get yourself nice ‘n wet for me.” His lips found your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin to leave his mark. He felt you cling to him as your actions sped up, his cock throbbing as he tried to fight off his high. It almost took everything in him not to give in. “Good girl. You got it.” 

You came loudly, chest heaving up and down as your body twitched and went through the motions of your release. You felt JJ leave more wet kisses across your chest as you tried to regulate your breathing, your hand playing with his hair carelessly. 

“That might’ve been the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, baby,” he spoke, his hands rubbing up and down your sides. Goosebumps formed underneath his fingertips, and he couldn’t help himself from realizing how responsive your body was for him. 

It’d never been like this with anyone else. No one could compare to you. He didn’t even have to sink into you for confirmation. 

He was fucking done for.

JJ never thought his complete and utter devotion to you could ever run deeper in his veins, but here you were, proving him wrong. 

He was more than fine with that. 

“Fuck me, J. Need you inside me,” you said, hands running over the planes of his chest. Your lip was caught between your teeth, and JJ could tell that you were feeling shy. 

“How could I ever deny you when you’re askin’ me so nicely, huh?” He thumbed at your bottom lip, trying to break it free so he could kiss you again. He did, giving you a deep kiss bubbling over the top with affection. “How do you want it?” 

“Wanna ride you. Can I?” 

Fuck. 

“You can have whatever you want, princess.” 

You grinned, your hands running down the path of his front before finding the button of his pants with ease. You popped it open, unzipping them and tugging his boxers down. His cock sprang out, beautiful and pink and curved. The bead of pre-cum caught your eye, and your mouth watered instantly, dying to know what he tasted like. You dipped your head down, your tongue sticking out and swirling around his tip gently as you coated your tastebuds with him. You were about to dive in for seconds when JJ stopped you. 

“Please don’t, baby. I won’t last.” 

You pouted. “But I wanna suck you off. Don’t you wanna fuck my throat?” 

Christ. Those sinful words sounded nothing but heavenly, and it was hard to resist you. 

“Promise you can later. But right now,” he paused, hands grabbing you and pulling you to straddle his lap again, “I need to feel that pretty pussy.” 

“Yes, daddy.” 

JJ threw his head back with a groan. “You’re really tryna kill me, aren’t you?” 

You simply giggled in response, before circling your hand around his cock. You slid his tip through your folds, from your creamy slit to your clit — and the whimper you let out when you rubbed it over your bundle of nerves almost sent JJ into shock — then back down to your hole again. You started to sink down on him, letting out a hiss when he stretched you wide. Once his tip was inside, JJ swore he started to drool. He was barely inside you and yet your hot, wet walls felt like ecstasy. 

When you sank down all the way, JJ let out a tortured, “Fuckin’ soaked, fuck.” Your walls fluttered subconsciously, and he groaned. “Move for me before I bust. Please.” 

“No cumming yet, J,” you tutted, slowly beginning to bounce on him and giving in to his wishes. He was so big, it was a miracle that you could fit him completely. The intrusion had you feeling so full, but he was hitting every square inch of your cunt and you were on cloud nine. You picked up a good rhythm, earning praise from JJ as you did so.  

“There ya go, baby. Thaaat’s it,” he rasped, leaning back against the headboard to watch you work. His hands cupped your tits as they bounced, feeling your pert nipples rubbing against his palms. “Fuck. Me. Shit.” 

His favourite girl, the star of every single fantasy he’s ever had, was beautifully bare and in his lap, riding the fuck out of his cock. He denied the urge to shut his eyes, no matter how euphoric he felt, ‘cause he didn’t want to miss a single second.

Lost in the pleasure, your hands migrated from his built shoulders to his chest, and you clawed at him. He hissed but ultimately enjoyed the stinging feeling pricking at his skin. 

You could tell because, within a millisecond, his broad arms had enveloped your entire frame and started bucking his hips upward and taking control.

You gasped his name in shock, your own arms instinctively wrapping around him to hold on for dear life. 

“Shh, baby. Let me do the work. You just keep takin’ this cock like a good girl for me, ‘kay?”  

Oh, that mouth. That perfect, filthy mouth. You could’ve died right there if he let you. 

“Y-Yeah.” 

“Yeah, who? What’s my name in here, angel?” 

“D-Daddy.” 

And the cheeky fucker smirked. “Damn fuckin’ straight.” 

He flipped you onto your back, your bare skin hitting the thick comforter. His hands curled around the backs of your knees as he kept you spread wide open for him. His eyes couldn’t help but drift to where you two were connected, watching you swallow his cock whole. 

“Such a good fuckin’ pussy,” he grunted. “Jus’ keeps gettin’ wetter ‘n tighter f’me.” 

“Yes. Yes. All for you, Daddy. S’all for you,” you called out when he started to fuck you harder. He was animalistic with it, the lust and need for you going into overdrive. It was the sexiest thing you’d ever seen. 

Your excitement only grew when JJ leaned forward, his deliciously carved frame hovering above yours. Thick arms caged you in, and large palms held your head up. His forehead leaned against yours, blue eyes holding yours captive in a hypnotizing fashion.

“Eyes on me, baby. Want your eyes on me when you cum.” 

He knew you were getting there, your cries only increasing in volume as your pussy coated him completely in your slick. Your walls were contracting, tightening around him and threatening to take his breath away.

He also knew that his words would go a long way right now, judging by the way you’d been reacting to them thus far. 

“Tired, aren’t you, baby? Tired of carrying all that weight on your shoulders?” He asked, his breath fanning over your lips as he panted. He littered soft pecks across your cheek when you nodded, an intoxicating juxtaposition from the savoury and harsh pounding he was giving you. “Yeah, I know, babygirl. Always workin’ so damn hard tryna take care of all of us. Jus’ need someone to take care a’you for a change, yeah? Need Daddy to do all the work ‘n make y’feel good? That right?” 

Don’t get him wrong. JJ was a feminist. You’d raised him right. But he always had the crippling need to do whatever he could to make your days lighter, make your life easier. 

And now, apparently, that included fucking the stress out of you until you couldn’t even remember what had caused it in the first place. 

He let out a breathy and proud chuckle when your walls started to clamp down harder on him. He had you right where he wanted you; clinging onto him like a koala and keeping his skin pressed to yours, crying from his gifted hip work, and teetering on the peak of your orgasm. 

“C-Close, J. So close,” you gasped out, chest heaving drastically.

“Let go, baby. Let it all go for me, yeah?” 

One of JJ’s hands snaked down to rub your clit in tight circles, and he watched flames ignite in your eyes at the added stimulation. The wind was knocked out of your lungs when the band deep in your core finally snapped.

“That’s fuckin’ right,” he encouraged, continuing to fuck you through your high. His was creeping up on him, and he selfishly started to go harder, faster. “‘M gonna cum. Where d’ya want it, baby? Your tits? Stomach?” 

“M-My mouth. Promised you’d fuck it, remember?” 

He grinned maniacally. The mere thought of fucking his cum down your throat, hearing your gags and watching more of those pretty tears stain your cheeks…nothing sounded better. 

“I never break my promises with you, angel. Y’know that.” He pulled out from you, lifting you into a seated position so he could reach your mouth. You struggled to keep yourself upright, clinging onto JJ’s thighs. You looked up at him, teary-eyed with your tongue out and waiting. “Could fuckin’ cum just from the way you look right now, swear to God.” 

He smacked his length against your hot tongue a few times before sliding in all the way. A shiver rippled through him in delight. “Fuckin’ hell. Where’s this mouth been all my life?” 

He throbbed wildly, twitching when your tongue slithered against the thick vein of his underside. It didn’t take long for him to start thrusting into your mouth, starting off slow but speeding up as his greed skyrocketed. His hands thread through your hair, holding your head in place. Spit was pooling out around him and down your chin, countless tears were escaping from your eyes. Your hair was a mess. But you’d never looked more gorgeous. 

You moaned around him, sending vibrations and little jolts through his entire body when he announced to you that he was close. You released your grip on one of his thighs, cupping and massaging his balls. He fucked deeper and deeper into your throat and soon, you watched him fall over the edge. A string of groans and curses fell from his lips, and he sounded better than anything you’d ever heard. 

Your favourite song of all time was now dethroned by the pornographic sounds emitting from the gorgeous and hypnotizing man in front of you. 

When he withdrew from your mouth and finally caught his breath, all he could do was beam down at you. His fingers scooped up the string of cum that clung to your lips and stuffed themselves into your mouth. You licked every last drop up and savoured it. 

Savoured him.

“‘N just when I thought you couldn’t drive me any crazier.” 

—

The world was different when JJ woke up. 

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and noticed the sun was shining, a nice contrast to the horrible weather from the previous night. He could hear birds chirping and the light breeze of wind flowing against the trees. But what was most different was the fact that you were curled up in his arms, smooth, bare skin pressed against his as you slept. It wasn’t like you two hadn’t cuddled before, but after last night’s escapades, the action just felt so much more intimate. He felt the smile growing on his face as the memories played in his head. He couldn’t believe he’d finally gotten to kiss you, let alone partake in any of the other activities you two did. 

JJ looked down at you, his precious girl, watching your chest heave as you tried to regulate your breathing. You were glowing, your hair a little messy, but it made his heart skip a beat when he thought about how it’d gotten to that point. The ghost of a smile played on your lips while you watched him in wonder. 

JJ leaned down, planting a soft kiss on your forehead and closing his eyes as he did so. “Stay here. Gonna grab a towel so I can clean you up.” 

He started to move, but your smaller hand wrapped around his wrist and tugged. “Don’t go. Can you just…lay with me for a bit?” 

The combination of your sulky doe eyes and still kiss-swollen, pouted lips was all too much. He could never say no to you, but at that moment? You’d never looked more vulnerable, and he just wanted to wrap you up in his arms and shield you from anything that would make you look as sad as you did right now. 

“Yeah, pretty girl,” he assured you, getting situated under the covers and opening his arms wide for you. “C’mere. Not goin’ anywhere.” 

You smiled with a shy nod, instantly slotting yourself into his arms and resting your head on his chest. You nuzzled your cheek against his bare skin, closing your eyes as you let his presence envelope you. 

“You promise?” You asked quietly. Your eyelids grew heavy, and you felt yourself slipping out of consciousness when his fingers danced up and down your back. 

“I promise,” JJ said. His head came to lean atop yours, his cheek smushed against your hair. “Couldn’t leave you if I tried, princess.” 

You started to shift in his hold, a small groan escaping your lips. 

“Mornin’, sunshine,” he greeted, sweeping some baby hairs away from your face. How you managed to look so effortlessly beautiful all the time was beyond him. Not that he was complaining. “You sleep okay?” 

“Mhm,” you hummed, unable to stop your lips from curling upward. “You?”

“Slept great.” 

You peered up at him, and he was already looking down at you. The minute your eyes met, it was just as last night when the rest of the world went quiet. It was just you and your favourite boy, stuck in a bubble where for once, everything felt right. Where you and JJ felt so happy, that nothing could put a damper on things.

Until your bedroom door swung open, revealing your mother. Once her eyes landed on a shirtless JJ beside you, steam was coming out of her ears. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” 

You sat up and held the sheets to your chest, keeping yourself covered up. “Mom, close the door!”

“Get up, get dressed, and get that pogue out of my house.”

“Always a pleasure, Mrs. Y/L/N.” 

She glared at him and slammed the door shut. You didn’t dare to look at JJ, completely mortified and ashamed of her behaviour. JJ sat up then, watching your teeth sink into your bottom lip the way they always did when you were deep in thought or stressed out. Without a second thought, he reached over, thumbing at your lip until it broke free from your teeth. 

“Stop that. Any harder ‘n you’ll bleed, babe.”

You gave him the tiniest glimpse of a smile. “Sorry.” 

You got up before he could respond, wrapping one of your sheets around your body and making your way to your bedroom door so you could lock it. Behind you, JJ also got up, slipping on his clothes before walking over to where you stood. 

“Hey,” he spoke, nudging your chin upward with his hooked index finger. “You okay?”

You nodded, slowly looking at him. “I’m just sorry about her.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me, alright? I don’t care about her, I just wanna make sure you’re good.” 

You nodded again wordlessly. It didn’t put JJ at ease. 

“I won’t go if you don’t want me to,” he told you. “Jus’ say the word ‘n I’ll stay.” 

You wanted to grab him and hold onto him for dear life. He was so sweet, too sweet for his own good. He always thought of you first, put you above everything else. It was nice, having someone do that for you for a change, but you couldn’t be selfish with him. So, you shook your head, looking downward and grabbing both of his hands. Your thumbs swiped over his knuckles as you mustered up the courage to let him go, knowing it was for the better. 

“No, it’s okay. I’ll be fine.” 

It was clear JJ didn’t believe you, but he knew better than to push you when it came to your parents. “You sure?” 

“Yeah.” 

He stayed right where he was for a moment. He didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to leave you to deal with the wrath of your mother alone. But he remembered the promise he’d made to himself; that he’d always do what you wished of him. 

He looked down at your joined hands, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach. His gaze flitted back up to yours, and he nodded hesitantly. Breaking free from your grasp, he gathered his belongings. He walked over to you again, his hand cradling your face. Tilting your head down slightly, he kissed your forehead in goodbye. 

“I’ll come by ‘n see you later, alright?” 

“Okay,” you said. 

He nodded, letting go of you slowly and walking the few footsteps to your door. But then, he turned around, his hand pausing on the doorknob. “Y/N/N?” His chest fluttered nervously, and he took a deep breath. “There’s, uh, somethin’ I wanna tell you. Somethin’ I needa tell you.” 

You watched him intently, and a sense of anticipation bubbled in your stomach. “What is it, J?”

You grasped his hand gently, and his mouth went dry. You were in such a vulnerable place with your parents showing up out of the blue, and that was not how he wanted things to be when he told you he loved you for the first time. 

“Y’know what? It’s nothin’. Forget it. I’ll see you tonight.” 

With that, he exited your bedroom, leaving both you and himself with heavy hearts. 

—

“Well, well. Look who’s finally decent,” your mother commented when you entered the kitchen fully dressed. 

You chose to ignore her comment. “What are you doing here, Mom? I thought the ferry wasn’t running.” 

“We took the jet and flew to the airstrip. Honestly, Y/N, it’s a miracle you can brush your teeth in the morning.” 

You held back your impending eye-roll.

“Is your little friend gone?” 

“Yes, Mom. JJ’s gone.” 

And you’d never needed him more. 

“Good. I knew that boy made you act like a child but I never thought that you’d throw everything we’ve given you away for someone with no potential and a criminal record.” 

And there it was. 

Any time your parents even thought they caught a glimpse of your blonde best friend, they were quick to pick out all his ‘flaws.’ Right off the bat, even as a child, they’d never respected him due to his pogue status. As if it were his fault, like he’d chosen his life himself. As if he’d chosen to be stuck with a father who’d never shown him love a day in his life. 

As if they had room to talk. 

Because the truth of the matter was, everything parents were supposed to do for their children — support them, comfort them, make them believe that they could be any and everything they wanted to be — wasn’t done by your parents. 

They were done by JJ.

If you hadn’t had JJ, you wouldn’t have known what unconditional love was. 

He was the one who reminded you that you could conquer the world. He’d held you through lonely nights, patched up your cuts and bruises when you were clumsy, helped you study (though he didn’t even study himself), and never failed to remind you that you were adored by him. 

So, when your mother dared to speak on JJ as if she had ever really tried to know him, it boiled your blood. “Where do you get off talking about him like that? He’s done more for me than you and Dad ever have.” 

The fire in your tone made your mother get up from her seat at the table immediately. She downed the contents of her glass — presumably scotch — and nearly slammed the glass on the table. 

“Is that so?” She scoffed. Steam practically shot out of your ears when she looked at you. “So he put you up in this house? He paid for all your foolish little dance lessons and bought you that Benz sitting in the driveway?” 

“That’s not what I—”

“I don’t care what you meant. You paint us out to be the villains in your life when we’ve done nothing but support you and give you everything you’ve ever dared to wish for.” 

“Support me?!Areyou delusional? When have you two ever supported me?”

Financially? Yes. Emotionally? Mentally? Likely story. 

“Don’t start. I’m simply speaking the truth. Now, tomorrow night, I expect you to stop acting like a spoiled brat and drop the attitude.” 

Your brows furrowed. “What’s tomorrow?”

“Last night, your father and I were at dinner with some colleagues, discussing the horrible storm and what it’s done to the southside of the island. They said they’d love to help support the people down there, and so your father came up with the brilliant idea to throw a benefit for The Cut.” 

Your parents wanted to help the pogues of the island? Were you dreaming? 

“It’s wonderful publicity for our company. We’ve been looking for an opportunity like this for weeks.” 

Nevermind. You were wide awake. 

“That being said, your father and I have informed the Huntzbergers that their son would be your date. You remember Logan, don’t you? He asked for you. I can’t fathom why, but what does it matter?” 

You’d met Logan many times over the years, the two of you being dragged by your parents to banquets, dinners, golf games, and so on. He was sweet, with a good sense of humour and a very handsome face if you were being honest. You’d always had the suspicion that he liked you, but obviously, those feelings had never been reciprocated. Not when a certain blonde troublemaker had plucked your heart right out of your chest and never given it back. 

A true kleptomaniac. 

“Mom, I can’t be Logan’s date.” 

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me this is because of the Maybank boy.” Your silence and shifty look were enough to answer her. “Oh, honey. You don’t think that the two of you are together now, do you? He got what he wanted from you. You’ll never be anything more than an easy lay to him.” 

Though the morning had been tumultuous at best, your mind hadn’t even gone there. Not once. In fact, it’d been the opposite. You weren’t foolish enough to believe that JJ would profess his undying love for you, but you certainly didn’t think he’d up and leave now that he’d been with you. 

Would he? 

As the thoughts consumed you, you were once again reminded that every time you’d found an ounce of happiness, your parents were always quick to rip it from your grasp and stomp on it for good measure. 

“So, back to what I was saying. Please do not embarrass us. Wear something slimming.” She moved closer to you, tapping your hip. “You’re looking a little wide. Let’s hope you aren’t pregnant with the poor pogue’s child.” 

Without looking back, she exited the room, leaving you alone to chew on her words in the oh-so-familiar silence. 

—

JJ spent his entire shift at the auto shop convincing himself that tonight would be the night he finally fessed up. It’d always been so difficult for him; pushing his feelings for you so deep inside and ensuring that they’d never escape, but something had changed. Maybe it had been the events that had taken place the night before, or maybe it was the utter disappointment he’d felt in himself all day long after not confessing earlier on. 

He hopped in his truck, swinging down to the pier so he could grab a bouquet from your favourite flower cart. He might not have been a renowned romantic, but his girl was special, and she deserved to be treated as such. Though he stayed there for a while, scratching the back of his neck with a stressed look on his face, he eventually settled on a carefully wrapped set that he thought you’d like. 

A mixture of anticipation, nerves and excitement bubbled in his system. He hoped he wasn’t setting himself up for failure. But with the way you looked at him yesterday, shimmering stars in your eyes and the most gorgeous yet shy smile playing on your lips, it was hard not to let himself begin to trust the impossible. 

Maybe his dreams were within his reach after all. 

He let himself inside your house, skillfully sneaking past your parents (who were busy in planning mode) and making his way up to your empty room. He could hear shuffling coming from the bathroom and could see dozens of dresses littered across the floor accompanied by a few pairs of shoes. Half of him wondered if there’d been a tornado that only hit your closet. 

He was aching to get a glimpse of the girl who had spent the day taking up every one of his thoughts. Seeing you and being with you felt like home. A home someone would have to pry from his cold, dead hands because he’d rather die than ever let you go. 

“Y/N/N? You here?” 

When you emerged from the bathroom, JJ swore the wind was knocked out of him. His eyes trailed down your elegant frame, your curves clad in a dress he hadn’t seen you in before. Your hair was natural, and you were bare-faced, but JJ believed you could walk a damn red carpet looking the way you did and capture the eyes and hearts of everyone in that room. 

“Woah…” he breathed, awestruck. 

“Hi.” 

Your eyes were sad, and your lips were in a pout, but your tone would’ve been enough on its own to tell him that something had upset you. Reaching out for you, his warm hands found your hips and pulled you to him.  

“You make sad look beautiful, princess.” 

You smiled a little at his words before wrapping your arms around his torso and melting into him. “Thanks.” 

He hugged you back, completely void of hesitation. He took the time to drown in your scent. It was incredibly fitting; sweet and hypnotic, just like you. 

“What’s the matter?” 

You shook your head. “Nothing, it’s not a big deal. I’m just being sensitive.” 

“Hey,” he said, pulling away from you a little so he could look you in the eye. “It’s a big deal to me if it’s bothering you.” 

God, how did he do that? He could convince you to unload everything on him with a few words and that look in his eye that made you feel as if he wanted to know every single detail running around in your mind. Pair that with the warm loving touch he was smoothing over you, calloused palms rubbing your sides up and down a few times, and your words came leaking out of you like a faucet.

“Does this dress look right on me? It’s okay, you can be honest. I just need an opinion I can trust.” 

JJ felt a crack in his heart when those words left your lips. You wouldn’t even look at him, you just stared at the floor beneath your feet and smoothed out the fabric around your hips over and over as if you viewed yourself as anything less than perfection. 

You were the most beautiful person he had ever laid his eyes on. There wasn’t a single thing about you that he wasn’t crazy about. 

That he didn’t dream about. 

Tipping your face up by your chin and forcing your eyes on him so you could really hear what he was about to tell you, he spoke. 

“Pretty girl, y’almost killed me when you walked through that door.” 

“Really?” 

JJ couldn’t tell if he wanted to hug you so tight that you’d end up stuck to him, or kiss the daylights out of you when he saw that spark of hope light your face up. “Really. You look perfect.”

You smiled that adorable, bashful smile, the one you always gave him when he calmed your mind and silenced your doubts. 

Little did you know that he’d sell everything he owned to keep that smile there for eternity. If only you would’ve seen the lovestruck look JJ was giving you. There might as well’ve been hearts floating around his head. 

However, your eyes were too busy looking at the splash of springtime colours against the white backsplash of your bedding. You felt your smile grow into a grin at the gorgeous bouquet lying there, and your eyes finally moved back onto the tall blonde in front of you. 

“You got me flowers?” 

“Uh, y-yeah.” 

It was JJ’s turn to be bashful. He scratched his brow, trying to hide his now rosy cheeks as he turned around to grab the bouquet. He handed them to you carefully, and he could hear his heart thumping wildly as you stared down at them adoringly. 

“You got me flowers.”

“It’s not a big deal. Jus’ swung by your favourite shop after work.”

Jesus, had you always made him this nervous?

You cradled the flowers in one arm, and let your free hand grab his. You tugged at it, silently telling him to come closer. You looked up at him, eyes sparkling. 

“You got me flowers, J.” 

The act of getting flowers was out of the ordinary for him. It seemed so…romantic. That’s not to say that he hasn’t bore his heart to you, ‘cause he had, but this…this was different. 

At least, it felt different. 

“Look, I jus’ thought, y’know…a girl as special as you deserves flowers.”

Oh, if you could’ve kissed him, you would’ve done so until you both ran out of oxygen. Maybe even longer. Even if it meant that you’d perish because of it. 

But, you couldn’t, so you settled on pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.” 

“Yeah,” he breathed. Then, he cleared his throat when he realized he might’ve been staring at you too long. “So, what’s the fancy getup for?” 

“Oh, right,” you spoke. “My parents decided to pimp me out tomorrow night.” 

His eyes almost bulged out of his head. “I beg your finest pardon?” 

You couldn’t help but laugh. Between the look on his face and his tone, he was making it impossible not to. “They’re throwing some benefit here for the Cut tomorrow night, and Logan asked for me to be his date. You remember Logan, right?” 

You spun around, grabbing your empty vase off the dresser and heading back into your bathroom to fill it up. Meanwhile, JJ was stuck in place, his mind buffering. 

Date? Did he hear that right? 

When he came to, he was quick to follow you. “You— Wait— Huh?” 

“Logan Huntzberger? I told you that story about how we snuck onto that boat once with a bottle of champagne and got busted by the owners, remember?”

“That’s not the part I’m confused about, Y/N.” 

His tone was more icy than he intended, but he couldn’t help but feel something like rage boiling and brewing in his core. You didn’t seem to notice, though, and if you did, you didn’t show it. Instead, you unwrapped the bouquet cautiously and placed the flowers into the vase. You were about to pass him and the threshold back into your bedroom when his hard curled around your bicep. 

“You’re goin’ on a date?” 

You gave him a weird look. “He just wants to escort me to this thing tomorrow. And to be honest, there’s safety in numbers. My parents will be so focused on him that they’ll forget about me.”

His jaw clenched, and his eyes darted away from yours as he let go of you. “You coulda just asked me.”

A chuckle escaped your lips as you placed the full vase back where it belonged. “You hate kook shit like this.” 

“I woulda came for you. You didn’t need to say yes to some spoiled rich kid.” 

“I didn’t say yes to him. My mom and dad did,” you reminded him. You walked up to him, arms crossing your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling very open and vulnerable. “Why are you being like this? You know how they are.” 

“‘M not bein’ like anythin’,” he denied. He moved away from you, grabbing his bag off your bed. “I gotta go.” 

He didn’t know what he was doing. He just knew he had to get out of there before he exploded on you and ruined everything. How could you be going on a date with someone else when JJ was ready to tell you that he wanted you forever? 

You grabbed his arm this time around. “Don’t do that. Don’t walk away from me. Just talk to me.” 

JJ couldn’t stay. He felt sick. He felt like he wanted to strangle someone.

Okay, fine. Not just anyone. 

Logan. 

And maybe your dad, too.

“Have fun tomorrow, alright?” 

JJ made his second escape of the day much quicker than he had with his first, practically poofing into thin air right before your eyes. You wanted to chase after him, beg him to just let you in instead of running away from you, but you knew getting him to open up wasn’t that easy. He’d have to want to come to you. So you just stood there, watching the doorframe hoping he’d come back, and growing utterly disappointed when he didn’t. 

—

After the events at your home, JJ had decided to crash at John B’s. He thought being around him and the group would help take his mind off things, but all he could focus on was the void he felt without you beside him. 

That night he had been even worse. He tossed and turned restlessly all night, never the one to be able to sleep without you in his presence. He needed to hear your rhythmic breathing and feel your warmth as you curled into his side in your slumber. It’s like his mind was never at rest unless he was with you. 

The next day had dragged on, your date with Logan being the only thing on his mind from the minute he’d opened his eyes. He went to work, though he was clearly somewhere else mentally. He’d gotten scolded a few times, but he failed to remember why. Then, his bike broke down on the way back home, so he walked to Sarah’s house, hoping to catch a ride. He eventually made it, but was greeted by a party he had completely forgotten the group had planned. 

JJ had half a mind to turn back and just go home. All he wanted to do was slump into a chair on his porch, smoke a joint and try to forget about the shittiest day he’d had in a long while. But he was far too exhausted to make that trip, and why go all the way home when he could get shitfaced instead? It’d help him forget just the same. 

Right?

Wrong. 

As the intoxication began to take over him, so did the thoughts of you. 

Why did he walk away? Why didn’t he just open his mouth and say something? 

‘I love you. I’m in love with you, and you can’t be with anyone else because you should be with me.’ 

That’s all he had to say. 

And he blew it. 

The group groaned around him when he started to rant about you and your date again. He’d been rambling on and on, causing a few people in the circle to leave so they wouldn’t have to hear yet another string of complaints fall from his lips. 

“And it’s jus’ like, of course she’d ch-choose him,” he hiccupped into his red solo cup. “He’s like, rich ‘n loaded ‘n-n stacked.” 

Pope rolled his eyes. “Those all mean the same thing, J.” 

“Well, y’know what ‘m tryna say. He can give her everything. He could prolly buy her the planet. I could never do that.” 

Sarah watched her friend wallow in his drunken sorrows, and she felt saddened for him. She had always known how much JJ loved you. She could see it in his eyes the first time she saw you two together. He’d bleed himself dry for you, and there was never any question about it. 

“Okay,” she cooed, getting up from her seat and plucking his cup from his hand. “Think you’ve had enough, JJ. C’mon. Let’s get you to bed.”

JJ grumbled out a few protests, but Sarah ignored them, asking John B to help her lead JJ to one of the guest rooms. They managed to get him tucked into bed, and when his eyes fluttered shut, they figured they were okay to leave. 

Unfortunately, not even a half hour later, JJ woke up. He was still way past intoxicated, but he stumbled into the kitchen in search of another bottle. He almost came up dry until he saw a bottle of whiskey less than a quarter full. He chugged down the remaining contents, and instantly made a hasty exit, his boots dragging against the pavement as he walked. 

Though he was drunk, his feet led him in a familiar direction. He knew where he longed to be, where he needed to be. 

He arrived at your house, clambering his way to your door and ignoring the nasty looks he’d gotten from your parents friends and colleagues. He pushed the door open, tripping over the threshold but managing to keep himself upright. He made his way through the house, and his mind quieted when his eyes finally landed on you. He was elated for all of five seconds because then he saw Logan’s hand find your waist. He pulled you closer to him, angling his head down slightly. 

Absolutely-fucking-not. 

“Hey! Keep your hands off my damn girl!” 

Your eyes, Logan’s, and countless other partygoers’ all shot over to JJ. He was stumbling and had almost taken out one of the serves as he made his way over to you. 

“J? What are you doing here?” 

JJ ignored your words and your hands on his chest as he pointed an accusatory finger at your date. “Don’t you fuckin’ touch her again.” 

“JJ, stop! You’re drunk!” You shout in a whisper, pushing him back a little now. 

“You don’t know her. You haven’t spent your whole life loving her and making sure she had someone. You aren’t there to remind her to eat when she gets stressed, ‘c-cause she always forgets. ‘N you aren’t there when she cries, ‘n your heart doesn’t break when she does. You’re nothin’.” 

More eyes were now on the three of you, and before you knew it, your parents were making their way over to you. 

“Enough, Maybank. Get out of this house before I throw you out,” your father snarled. 

“Dad, stop it!” 

“You,” JJ said, turning his attention to your parents. “You two are the worst of ‘em all. Throwin’ this bullshit party when you’re never even here. You care about the cut? You don’t even care about your damn daughter!” 

“JJ, enough! Let’s go!” You pleaded, trying to pull him. 

He freed his arm from your grasp. “No, Y/N/N, everyone needs to hear this. They need to know they’re supportin’ two people who think it’s fun to body shame their daughter and remind her time and time again that they couldn’t care less about her. They didn’t even go to your graduation, Y/N/N. You worked your ass off, ‘n they couldn’t even be bothered to send you a damn card! Never mind the last five birthdays of yours that they missed. They’re pieces of shit, ‘n all their friends should know it!” 

“You’re lucky I don’t call the cops!” 

“Go ‘head. Call ‘em. Call ‘em ‘n tell ‘em that you’re arresting me for defending your daughter.” 

“That’s it,” you mumbled to yourself. You grabbed JJ, pulling him hard this time. “Come with me, now.” 

JJ’s voice got quieter the further away you dragged him, but it was clear enough. “‘M not done with you, Y/F/N!” 

Luckily, Logan had come to your aid, helping you haul JJ up the stairs. It wasn’t an easy feat, as JJ had been swatting him away the entire way up. The two of you finally got him into your room, and you told Logan to rejoin the party. JJ sunk into your bed, and you tucked him under the sheets before handing him a water bottle. He pouted, not wanting to drink it, but relented when he saw the look on your face. 

“Are you mad?” 

You ignored his words, continuing to help him get settled. You were trying hard to bite your tongue because you knew that even if you scolded him, he most likely wouldn’t remember a single thing you said. That, and you could tell he was hurting. That’s the only reason he would’ve gotten this drunk. 

“Uh oh. You’re mad. ‘M soo in trouble.” 

“Tomorrow, JJ. Go to sleep.” 

His big blue eyes sulked at you, though they were a tad hazy, and he latched onto your hand after you smoothed some hair from his eyes. “‘M sorry. ‘M just sad.”

You closed your eyes, letting out a deep breath. “It’s okay, J. Now sleep.” 

He tapped his right cheek, silently asking you for a kiss there. You did as he requested, unable to refuse him, but not without an eye roll. Then he repeated his taps on his other cheek. You kissed him there too. The cycle continued with his forehead, and then his nose. When you were done, he tried his luck, tapping his puckered lips. 

To that, you laughed softly. “Nice try, Maybank.”

— 

If you could pay someone to pluck the memories of the previous night from your brain, you’d fork over all the cash you could muster. JJ’s behaviour, your embarrassment, apologizing to Logan profusely…. 

Yeah. 

You’d erase all of it. 

Mad and anxious as you were, though, you couldn’t stop thinking about how your ‘date’ had only made things more abundantly clear; you would forever be in love with JJ. 

All night long, you knew Logan was trying to charm you. He was the perfect gentleman. He helped you down the stairs in your heels, guided you through the crowd, and got your drinks for you. Talked to you about your interests and actually, genuinely cared about what you had to say. But with every touch of his, all you could feel was the ghost of JJ’s and the trails of fire he’d left behind every time his skin brushed against yours. Could smell his familiar scent of weed, sea salt and some high-end cologne he’d snatched from a party on Figure 8, in place of the cologne that Logan had spritzed on himself. And when Logan tried to kiss you, you couldn’t even think about it. Because the truth was, you knew it would never compare to the sliver of heaven you’d ascended to when JJ’s mouth was on yours.  

Your mind moved over to the boy you’d tucked into your bed last night, and a pang of worry hit you. Yes, you were still mad, at least partly, but you couldn’t focus on that. All you could focus on was your concern for him. 

What was he battling? And why did he feel as if he couldn’t approach you about it? Didn’t he know by now that you’d stand by him through anything? 

Didn’t he know by now that he wasn’t alone? 

A loud clang in the kitchen caught your attention, and you decided to head down to investigate. You were also in desperate need of a cup of coffee. 

You hadn’t expected to find JJ moving around your kitchen less-than-expertly during what would probably go down as the worst hangover known to man, but the sight that greeted you was nothing but endearing. 

There he was, your best friend, surrounded by a chaotic array of ingredients and bowls and utensils. Flour dusted the tips of his blonde (now white) strands, there was a smear of what you assumed was batter across the apple of his cheek, and his clothes looked even worse off than his face. 

Still, his tongue was poked out adorably while he concentrated on the soon-to-be-cooked ingredients in front of him. 

“J?” You chuckled softly, unable to suppress your smile at the sight before you. 

JJ’s eyes flit up to yours abruptly, a worried and panicked look spreading across his face. You could see the dark circles, and his voice was slightly hoarse when he spoke. 

“Shit! You’re supposed to be in bed!” He rushed over to you, hands finding your shoulders with ease and trying to urge you to spin back around. “You gotta go back up.” 

Your amusement was clear on your face as you looked around at the mess. “I don’t think that’s wise, J.” 

JJ scratched the back of his neck, huffing frustratedly. His eyes weren’t as bright as usual, noticeably clouded by shame. “I jus’ wanted to apologize for last night. I thought makin’ breakfast would maybe help me get back on your good side.” 

Your heart softened at his sincerity, your annoyance from the previous night now dissipating at his intentions. “You’re always on my good side. I just wish you’d talk to me about what’s going on instead of completely dodging me and getting blackout drunk just ‘cause you’re avoiding things.” 

You’d always known him so well. Most times, you knew him better than himself. That being said, JJ should’ve known that you’d figure him out the minute he showed up at your house. He messed up terribly. He knew he embarrassed you, he knew he might’ve ruined the party and angered your parents beyond belief. But right now, he knew that even after all those things, they’d never stop you from worrying for him and making sure he was good on all fronts. 

He definitely didn’t deserve you, but at that moment, he decided; he was going to keep you anyway. 

“You’re way too good for me.” JJ’s flour-dusted hand cupped your cheek, and he looked down at you with all the love he could muster up, and then some. “You’re way too good for me, and I fell in love with you anyway.”

Your heart skipped a beat as his words hung in the air, and you blinked, momentarily taken aback by the confession you’d spent nearly your entire life yearning for, yet never expected to hear. 

“You’re…you’re in love with me?” You repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. Your eyes searched his, and now, they were as clear and sincere as ever. 

JJ nodded earnestly. “After that night, when I showed up with those flowers…I was gonna tell you. ‘N then you told me about your date with Logan ‘n I jus’ freaked ‘cause I could feel myself losin’ you to this, like, superior guy who could give you everythin’ I couldn’t.” 

“J…” you trailed off sadly in a whisper. 

“It’s always been us, y’know? Two peas in a shitty-parents-pod. But even on my worst days with Luke…it never mattered, ‘cause I had you. ‘N when I thought about you leavin’ me…Y/N/N, I couldn’t even stomach it. Then I kinda went off the deep end.”

You grabbed his hands with urgency. “I could never leave you, J. Never.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a soft voice. “I love you too much.” 

JJ’s gaze searched yours, his eyes mixed with hope and trepidation. “For real?”

“Yes, for real, dummy. I love you. I’ve always loved you.” A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and your heart pounded in your chest at your confession. But this time, it wasn’t with nerves or fear, it was one hundred percent, wholeheartedly with love. 

“So, does that mean I can finally kiss you again?” 

Even at his most vulnerable, this cheeky boy could still whip out a boyish smirk on command. This only prompted you to toy with him a little, just to get back at him. 

“And what makes you think I’m gonna kiss you, Maybank?” 

His hands surged toward your hips, and he pulled you impossibly closer while licking his lips. “I know you, remember? ‘N after the other night, I know what you look like when you want to.” 

Damn, he was good. 

Your arms looped around the back of his neck, and you threw him a daring look. “So do it.” 

He didn’t have to be told twice. His lips found yours, and you stood there for some time, just drowning each other without anything holding you back this time. Things couldn’t have been more perfect. 

He couldn’t have been more perfect.

Just like that, the two of you were home. And you’d never dare to leave. 

🕷️ SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.

🕸️ WARNINGS - story will contain mentions of blood, broken bones, weapons, suggestive language, and more. all versions of peter are between the ages of 19-23 in this story. I will try to update warnings accordingly for each chapter, but please read at your own discretion

PART ONE // back at the beginning