#They were boyhood friends

[84reedsy]

I enjoy little more than watching Curt Hennig and Rick Rude walk to the ring together

Rick Rude also has been carrying around handcuffs during the feud with the Hart family....I CANNOT with these two, ugh

Rick was handcuffed to Jim Neidhart as a stipulation. 1998 was wild, ya'll.

And Bobby Hennan jumping up and down asking Rick to come to the announcer table.

[mandukkul]

LOVE BETWEEN TWO — n.rk

synopsis: you and riki have different ways of seeing love but, in the end, you'll always know who you'll end up with.

or

moments building up before the first i love you

tags: childhood friends to lovers, non!idollau, neighbour!riki x f! reader, FLUFF!!!, only fluff and comfort :)

warning: proofread but might have some spelling + grammar errors

wordcount: 4.5k

published: 3rd october, 2024

authors note: this oneshot acts as a thankyou for all the followers and love i get!! i’m so sorry for not being more active :( BUT i completed this! and i just want to say THANK YOU FOR 1000!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU WHOLE!!! as much as riki loves you! and as much as we love riki :)

reblogs + comments appreciated

Act 1: loving 

Riki had never understood love – that is, until he met you. He knew he loved many things, like dance, and his family and friends, but if you had asked him if he knew what love meant, he would have buffered like a 2000s-era computer. Of course, Riki knew what love was; he had watched it in K-dramas and had seen it rendered in manga. By their definition, love was hard. Love was hard and difficult and full of miscommunication, but also, love was soft and kind and offered the sweetest touches to one's heart that anyone could ask for.

Love was everything, and nothing, all at the same time.

He then concluded, after the piles of pirated manga and dramas he had accumulated over his 17 years of boyhood, that love was simply you. He didn’t need to be a genius to understand that; he knew if it wasn’t you, then no one was going to fit that definition of love for him. Riki didn’t fully understand love, but he understood you – how he felt about you. You, in all your beautiful glory. Love was your touch, your smile, your laugh. Love was what he looked forward to every day.

You were truly the only exception to his dilemma of love, because with you, love came so easily. Love was just like breathing – it was so effortless when it came to you. Love for you felt like rain kissing his cheeks in humid summers, like snow tickling his nose during winter, like an autumn leaf falling on his head in the fall, like cherry blossoms blooming when spring arrived.

Love for you felt like nature, like it was natural. He was sure he had been born to love you, inside and out. From the moment he had met you at the age of 4, when you were dressed in stained patchwork overalls, obviously from playing in the dirt; your hair tied in uneven pigtails because you had just had to tie them yourself. Your hands clasped some wilted old flowers he had passed while walking Bisco; you had offered them to him as a greeting gift with that cute little grin of yours.

“Hello! Want to be my best friend?”

Four-year-old Riki didn’t know it just yet, though he did have an inkling, but he would be head over heels for the girl in front of him for the rest of his life.

He had stared at the flowers in your hand, weak and slouchy in posture. He looked back up at you and didn’t have the heart to tell you that those flowers were the exact ones Bisco had decided to relieve herself on. So, he took those piss-stained flowers and nodded his head with as much agreement as his little body could give.

At the ripe age of 18, as he watched you from across his window, peering into your room, where you haphazardly flopped onto your bed with exhaustion despite only hanging out in his room all day. He could just tell you had screamed into your bed by the way you flailed around at the edge. He watched you suddenly stop, as if you had run out of battery, flip over to your back, and lay still for a while longer.

He loved you.

You could sense him staring at you, with your strangely acquired Riki-sense. You lifted your head to confirm your theory, and there he was, leaning against the window frame staring into your room. His eyes lay still on the object that was yourself, and he was filled with so much adoration, so much love, so much bliss at even the sight of you.

And yet, you scoffed at his blatant staring, feeling his chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul like the Ghost Rider from the movies. Of course, he had that stupid love-stricken look, and of course, he was already waiting for you to stare back.

Love for you had meant many things – too many things to quite pinpoint the right meaning. As you grew up, you learnt more about love than loss, and hence, you learnt that love hurts.

Love was like the humidity in summer, where the air was too thick, and the wind stuck to your skin; love was like the dullness of autumn, where the wind was cold and brisk but not enough to complain about – just enough to be irritable; love was like winter, where it got so cold you couldn’t even feel your face anymore, the season of sickness and disease that forced you to remain indoors and watch the sky cry frozen tears; love was like spring, when hay fever was at its worst, staining your cheeks with unintentional tears and a stuffy nose.

Love was hard. Love was difficult. Love was confusing.

You remembered every single time something you had loved got lost. The very first time was when the friendship bracelet Riki had made you when you were 5, decorated with mismatched charms and trinkets, disappeared one day when you went to the park. The nights you had spent crying didn’t outweigh the nights 5-year-old Riki had spent consoling and reassuring you that he’d make another one – a better one. But 5-year-old you knew the sentiment that was put into that very first bracelet, the one made without obligation to be replaced.

You remembered wailing about how it wouldn’t be the same, that Riki would have the very first bracelet, and you’d have a stupid second version because you had been careless. Then, you remembered the sound of beads crashing onto the ground, scattering anywhere and everywhere. You were scared you’d slip and crash despite being a giant compared to a measly bead.

“Now I’ll make two new ones so we’ll both be the same again.”

You couldn’t recall a more romantic and pleasant memory, where Riki had been so genuine and cute, so willing to give up something that was his to meet your happiness.

Five-year-old Riki really had you wrapped around his finger from that day on.

Despite your own volition, your heart bloomed and blistered, so full of him. It beat to the spelling of his name (in Morse code), and you couldn’t help but pull the threatening smile down into the scowl you attempted to display.

Like clockwork, your eyes locked with the same amount of love and willingness that you gave yourself credit for. You crawled towards your window and lifted it open so you could talk to him again as if the past 12 hours hadn’t occurred.

He was waiting for you, gazing like the stars had blessed his presence – graced his very being with the holiness that was you.

You had to force yourself to calm the oh-so-obvious flush of your cheeks, putting it down to hike up to your room as the reason for your sudden flare-up.

“Aren’t you tired of looking at me all day?” you remarked, and he was so quick with his reply, “I could never get tired of looking at you.”

Him and his flirty personality. You didn’t remember where he had gotten it from, or how he had developed it. You’d grown up with him all your life, and that part of his personality was still an anomaly.

You let a scoff out, rolling your eyes and folding your arms, blatantly ignoring the ache in your cheeks that you refused to surrender to his love.

“It’s not like I’ll disappear if you blink, relax,” but Riki had never been more relaxed than when he was looking at you. Not just the plain stares he gave during his maths classes, or at the dinner table, or even when he stared at his home screen that was so obnoxiously filled with you, but the type that showed interest, that showed he was immersed, devoured, totally consumed by whatever had his attention.

He liked to think he had found the perfect balance of clinginess and distance but still unknowingly leaned towards pulling you in.

“Most girls would love it if I stared at them,” he had said.

He was right. Nearly every girl at school would have sold an arm and a leg just for the boy to even look in their direction. If you weren’t you, you would have cherished and felt blessed to even have the Nishimura Riki in your presence.

But you were you, and you had grown up with this annoying brat all your life. Even if he could be sweet and sensitive at times, or when he tried to show you he was more man than boy, he was still Riki: your first friend, your best friend, and your first love.

Besides, someone had to keep his beautiful ass humbled, or else he would have resorted to those once-targeted alpha male Andrew Tate ads.

“To be honest, I find it a bit creepy,” you had snickered to yourself as he pouted at your response.

Those cute lips of his.

You had always known how to bring his rising ego down, one way or another.

With your smart and witty remarks, you anchored him just enough so he didn’t fly away and drift into the realm of egoism.

He couldn’t get enough of you.

“Fine. I’ll stop looking at you,” he had declared, but his eyes betrayed his words, and his gaze never, not once, pulled away. He had one eye open now, tilting his head away but still, ever so slightly, gazing upon the beauty that you emitted.

And you were still looking. Of course, you were; of course, you would.

You never took your eyes off him because he was just so cute, and his attempt to one-up you in snark was quite endearing.

“Good luck with that,” you had laughed, leaning onto your palm as you watched him sigh in defeat, but not before he caught your own gaze on him.

“Oooh, why are you looking at me like that?” he had prompted, leaning over his window to be closer to you. “Do you think I’m cute?” he wriggled his eyebrows ever so playfully, that shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“No,” you had deadpanned, dropping your palm down to the frame. He pouted again, more pouty than usual, pulling a frown.

He whined with one of those annoying squeals, something you had grown used to over the years of knowing him. “My girlfriends are so mean to me,” he had said, frowning with his eyebrows pinching and lips pouting. You couldn’t help the small pull of your lips, seeing how comical he was being.

For a split second, you had lingered on his words. “My girlfriend,” he had said with so much pride. “My girlfriend” was all you really heard because he was calling you his girlfriend like it was your name, like it was a prize, a gift, a blessing. “My girlfriend” sounded like honey-laced praises.

He had feigned a gasp at the sight of you trying to hide your smile, and then you had burst into giggles because, of course, you revelled in his misery. But it was okay because the sound of your laughter, that joyous giggle, had erupted because of him, and that was more than enough to subside the little bits of bullying you always seemed to aim at him.

His heart beat along with the rhythm of your laugh.

It was late, and the stars had been watching your tales unfold.

Of a girl whose love yearned and pined, reaching the moon and kissing the ocean. Whose love was kept sacred and scarce, and yet, a love that was sought after, searching for love like hers. One that treasured and was kept safe, a love made of steel but soft like wool. A love that comforted.

And of a boy who loved like no other, so full and so rich. Whose love poured like the rain kissing the ground – endless and fulfilling. A love so abundant, it counted for the world.

There was so much love, too much. It was overbearing, consuming, and it was eating you both alive.

It was overwhelming.

“Hey.”

Your name had left his mouth like honey.

The silence of the gap between your two homes became deafening. Your laugh had slowly died, and your attention had glued onto him alone.

It was now or never.

Riki had known that love was you. He had known that the moment his eyes met yours, his definition had been filled in an instant.

He knew, he had loved – no, he loved you.

His second pause after the call had been enough to erupt a yawn from your lips, ever so slightly slipping past your perfectly shaped lips.

“You should get to bed,” he had said, but the lovesick gaze that you were too tired to catch said everything.

You had fought the urge to ask him what he was really thinking. You were tired, but you knew Riki – your Riki. You knew how his eyebrows pinched a certain way when he contemplated, only further accentuated when he hesitated.

You had his entire face burned into your mind, and your heart.

But for tonight, you had let him and his burning thoughts wait as you slightly nodded.

“I’m not gonna wake you up this time,” you replied, smiling ever so slightly.

You had left your window open, as you always did. Your window to his – it was like you were always together, connected through a fated string that crossed from one pane to the other.

…

Act 2: between 

You had grown to find joy within nothingness—or so you told yourself.

All your life, you had searched for things to put meaning into. Simple commodities that resembled fractions of joy you attempted to keep. As a child, you had never pondered trivial things that would be impossible to find answers to.

You loved the definite, the certain, the things you knew you could hold close to your heart and never let go. Like the grudge you held for the boy who had bullied Riki when he was nine—too fiery of emotions for little you to experience. Your little face had burned red with anger, fists balled and shaking with rage. There had been no stopping nine-year-old you from unleashing divine fury upon the bully. Or like the childhood bracelet Riki made when you were kids, which you had sworn never to remove despite the horrendous combination of charms. A symbol of your eternal friendship.

As you stuffed your locker with yet another textbook you barely cared about, you heard cheers echo against the walls, ricocheting straight into your ears. The stampede of footsteps seemed to hurdle past you, racing toward an unknown presence from across the hall.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t know who that presence was. Of course you did. You couldn’t ignore it, not when his fiery gaze burned holes into the back of your head.

You subtly looked over your shoulder, and there he was, in his glorious seven-foot-something stature. You saw how all the girls crowding him seemed to be trying to attract his attention, calling for his name, asking him silly, mundane questions. Anything just for a simple glance, but all Riki could do was stare at you like you were a lost treasure he had just discovered.

His gaze alone spoke a thousand words.

"I wish I could hold you."

"Your hand is mine."

"I want you."

"I need you."

"I miss you."

Those were more your feelings than what you thought his gaze said, but you had an inkling he felt the same way.

In the space between you, from metres away across the hall, you couldn’t help but feel so full of him—him and his love. He was saying nothing, yet the whole world went deaf in his presence.

You could see, miraculously through the heart-eyed girls, how he fidgeted with the little torn hem at the bottom of his shirt, remembering how you had been the culprit for that "measly" (his words, not yours) tear.

You watched as he scratched his neck awkwardly, trying to be as polite as a boy could be when rejecting a starry-eyed girl. They gave him chocolate-covered strawberries—though you knew he’d only eat them if they were microwaved despite your protests—and little love letters he would never end up reading, also despite your pitied protests.

All you wanted to do was pull him out of the crowd of crazed girls, to scream that he was yours—despite often telling him that you weren’t an object and shouldn’t be defined as "mine." Maybe it was jealousy that rippled through your blood, burning with a touch of yearning because, of course, you yearned for him. Every second of the day.

You yearned for his touch, his words, his silence.

Despite your many reluctances to say so, you were so deeply infatuated with Riki, you might as well have sprawled it across your forehead. Every distant look, light feathery touch, gentle breath that brushed against the shell of your ear. Everything he did, you clung to like a hoarder. A stupid, love-stricken hoarder. Every thought of yours was consumed by him, captivated by his every essence. Feminists before you would have shaken their heads, disappointed by how much you thought of Riki.

Frankly, you were too smitten with your dear ol’ boyfriend, even if he claimed you didn’t show enough affection to him.

Maybe it was for the best, as your gazes left each other like strangers with a fleeting glance. Similarly to last night, there was an invisible wall separating the two of you, tension threatening to crack under the pressure.

Riki was still being bombarded by love-sick girls, his longing gaze shifting into more of a plea as he watched you with all the free space he was supposed to take up.

You ignored his plea, of course, turning back around and into your locker. You would speak to him later anyway—it’s what he gets for making you late this morning (you had waited for him, as you always did).

…

Act 3: two

The two of you sit in the silence of your room for a change. The curtains of your window that peer into his room are pulled shut, dimming the space enough that you can only tell his expressions if you’re inches away from each other.

Which you are.

Riki insisted on staying over this time, wanting to leave the musk of his room for once. But really, he misses the sight of your walls.

Plastered across from him are pictures of friends and family, some of him and your shared friend group, others of his sisters and you. He thinks to himself how you have a knack for interior design, pleased with the way you showcase your love through photographs.

You say it eternalises the memories, so even when you’re both old and rotten to match your insides, you’ll always have the days of your youth.

And there’s a little flutter in his stomach when he thinks back to this memory because you said “both.” He loves that you see him forever entangled in your life.

Riki watches you doom-scroll on that godforsaken bird app. He likes to believe he’s got all your micro-expressions down—like the slight twitch of irritation in your eyebrow, the lift at the corner of your lip when you see something funny, or the scrunch of your nose when you see a resurfaced video of Nikocado Avocado.

Riki doesn’t spend half as much time on his education as he does staring at you. You’re awfully beautiful in your (his) shirt and dirty sweatpants. You’ve never bothered putting effort into your appearance when you’re in the comfort of your (or his) room, having known him far too long to care if he thinks your shirt smells like perpetual instant ramen.

His eyes travel from your appearance back to your face, and he just loves you. Loves sitting next to you. Loves seeing your face.Loves your appearance. Loves your personality. Loves that you're the opposite of a breath of fresh air—you’re comforted in his old, musty room.

Because even if he and you were stuck back in his room, you’d never change. You’re constant.

He loves the way your voice drops when you sense your tone’s shifted higher when talking to him, saying you’ll never be caught speaking to him with a babied voice. He loves how you deny his obvious affection for you—behind closed doors, because he wouldn’t hear the end of it from his friends. He loves your loudness, your quietness, your happiness, your silence.

He loves you.

He’s going to say it.

As he stares at you, yearning for you, you pretend not to notice the burning gaze of your lover. Twitter lost your attention long ago—the nth tweet about yet another scandal circling the app. Instead, you focus on your breathing. With how wild your heart’s beating, the best you can do is control how you breathe—ensuring you don’t fold in front of the lovely boy cuddled up next to you.

If Riki really knew how much you adored him—his hair, his eyes, his laugh, his smile, him—you’d never hear the end of it.

In truth, you’re simply enamoured with him. You love him. Everything about him. Years of girlhood wasted on a beautiful and sweet boy. Girlhood never prepares you for how to love a boy so lovely, so perfect. You think about how there have only been a few moments in your life where you’ve felt nothing but bliss.

Childhood was easy; ever since that fateful day where you picked a bunch of piss-covered flowers, you had no worries other than befriending the awkward little boy next door.

You’ll be sure to thank your parents’ boss for the move.

Teenhood, not so much; it’s riddled with an array of angst and anxiety. It’s a surprise you’re not imploding from the assignment you’ve been procrastinating or having a philosophical crisis like “what is love?”. But no, teenhood, albeit filled with plenty of anger and sorrow, has its fair share of wonderful moments.

Like right now, sitting in the comfort of your room—for a change. You’ve spent time imagining how your life would unravel, always with him in it, and how it ended up. The pictures plastered across the room aren’t just for show—they’re evidence that you’re happy.

Blissful.

Without Riki, you wouldn’t know what bliss is. Feeling nothing but pure and utter love.

He’s everything perfect about love.

And of course, you’ve said “I love you” plenty of times—80% of those times were when you were just kids. But that was when you were just friends. A silly phrase, really, because if you ask anyone who’s known you two since you were kids, they’d say you guys got married at the ripe age of seven with grass-bladed rings and flower crowns, with any passing animal as witness to your youthful marriage.

But now you’re dating—the dreaded boyfriend-girlfriend status. Nothing’s really changed in your relationship. Riki remains full of love and charisma, his attitude never wavering because, as he puts it, he’s known you were “the one” since you handed him those dirty flowers. You’ve remained witty and lovely as always, retaining the same spunk you had as a kid. The only two differences (soon to be one) are that your status has changed from friends to dating, and you’ve yet to say those three words, eight letters.

The phone that sits in your loose grip almost slips out, clearly losing its purpose of mindless distraction. To your dismay, Riki catches sight of your fumble, noting that you haven’t scrolled in seven minutes.

“Did my shameless staring finally catch your attention?”

He’s shameless, alright.

You drop your phone, staring deep into his dreamy eyes. You remain silent, but your expression tells him everything.

Despite the pull of your eyebrows and the purse of your lips, you love him.

“Say… what’s one thing you love about me?” he prompts, ready to finally tell you those long-awaited words. He’s thought it all out—how he’d list everything he loves about you, like he’s about to write your biography. He’s been dreaming of this moment since you started dating.

You think thoughtfully, like you’re scrounging your brain for an answer, leaving the silence in the room to deafen him with anticipation.

“Hey! Stop thinking so much!” Riki exclaims, offended that you’ve taken more than three seconds to answer, while his response would take 0.003 milliseconds (at least in his mind).

You let out a playful giggle, something you gave up trying to hide long ago. “I’m kidding,” you say, smiling.

“I’m kidding,” he mocks you in his ridiculous, high-pitched voice.

You love many things about him, too many to count. You simply love everything about him, like a reflex you can’t control.

“I love it when you’re silent.”

Riki visibly deflates, a slight frown ghosting his plump lips. His eyebrows pinch into a “what the hell” kind of expression, and his nose scrunches cutely at your words.

But you smile knowingly, taking in his sudden silence. You tune into the stillness of the room.

A rapid heartbeat.

“If you hate talking to me, just sa—”

“Because even when you’re quiet,” you interrupt, stretching your hand out to gently caress his hair, “you’re the loudest in the room.”

Your hand travels from his hair to cup his cheek, and Riki—the ever entranced—instinctively leans into your touch.

“Because you can just look at me, and I hear everything I need to hear.”

Your words are soft, gentle, and Riki swallows the lump in his throat that he hadn’t realised had formed. He stares deeply into your eyes—a different kind of stare than before.

Normally tender and kind, full of unspoken words of love. Now, all you see is devotion.

Riki focuses on the silence you’ve created, tuning into the nothingness that you said you loved about him.

And he thinks he can hear it, the silence.

It’s so loud, it bounces off the walls, pounding in his heart—even you can hear it.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

“What do you hear?” He pulls you closer, your lips hovering above his, so close he can feel your breath.

“I hear ‘I love you.’ ”

Your lips mould against his before he can respond, but something tells him that you know. And besides, he has a lifetime's worth of “I love yous”— he’ll let you have this one.

author's note pt.2: its been more than a year since i made this wip and i finally finished it LOLLL it took me so longggg ANDDD i feel like its a bit lackluster in the second act... ENJOY THOUGH. i love the the ending

[someonegoood]

MY WHOLE LIFE pt. 1 ✫ mason mount

part 1, part 2, final part.

in which you have a fat crush on your brother’s best friend, without getting much success. (brother’s best friends troop).

CONTAINS: brother’s best friend troop, angst & fluff ! age gap, arguments...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is my first work here but anyways i hope you guys like it ! maybe I'll do a part 2...

You watch proudly in his shirt as you clap in the game's first minutes, chanting while taking pictures of him.

The first half was pretty equal, with some shots from both teams but neither could score. You could see that Mason was getting nervous. He stopped his movements abruptly when the referee called for a corner and looked at the crowd, his eyes sparkling with tenseness.

He gazed down at where his family (and therefore also yours) was and licked his lips. You couldn't help but wonder what would your brother think of your little —huge— crush on his childhood best friend.

In the 34th minute, he passed the defenders and tried to score with a pass from Ben Chilwell, making the goalkeeper lose his balance and thus scoring.

You celebrated the goal screaming it to your brother's face and he couldn’t help but smile at you, happy that you were having a good time. Your cheeks were red after Mason approached the stands and celebrated the goal, dedicating a kiss to where you were.

And that was the effect that Mason Mount had on people, especially you.

Mason was your brother's best friend, you had known him for years. It was a stupid crush that all your friends grew out of but not you. You had to keep drooling every time he was near you, that being almost every day because your brother had him over to dinner nearly every night.

You remember the day the Mount family moved next to your house, a loud and proud British family— Debbie and Tony, Stacey, Lewis and Mason. The day after they had moved in, Debbie and Tony turned up outside your door, asking if your older brother was interested in playing football with Mason.

It didn’t take long for your brother to become close to Mason, both at the cusp of boyhood. Their friendship only bloomed from there.

After spending almost every weekend watching your brother and Mason training, to spending most afternoons around the Mount house playing, you felt like family.

You always found yourself drawn to the boy next door although he was away a lot of the time, playing different matches and training. Mason’s natural affinity and talent for the game, ensured the quality of his skills.

He was slightly older so no doubt he found you childish and would always moan when his parents made him spend time with you.

—Mom, not again! I don't want to play with her, she's boring! —Mason exclaimed with an expression of obvious annoyance on his face.

Mason's mother was the first to figure out your crush on the boy. She first noticed it when you joined the Mounts at a family dinner when you were around thirteen.

Both families were playing football, as usual, while the adults were preparing supper. When you had the ball you felt your body lean way too far back and Mason tried to act on impulse, stretching his body to catch you in time.

—Hold on to me! —Mason exclaimed, extending his arms towards you. However, the weight of the fall was too much, and in an instant, they were both on the grass, in some sort of mess.

—Mase, God, I'm so sorry! I dragged you with me! —you apologized, feeling the blood rise to your cheeks, turning them crimson red.

He brushed the grass off his jacket with an angry expression. —Well done. First minutes into the game and you're already annoying.

—Thanks for trying! —you laughed, shyly. When there was a long silence, you realized that Mason was not joking and was serious. —Sorry, I…

Debbie looked from afar at the little girl carefully while she kept her eyes glued to her son's. She watched her cute little cheeks tinted red as Mason scoffed and begged you to stay away from him.

Debbie would soon get used to it as she watched you fall in love with her son over the next few years.

Until your first boyfriend. An age difference of three years was not a big deal since it was a common factor among your friend's partners. You had recently turned sixteen years old and you thought that you had met the boy who could take you out of the charm that had her wrapped around Mase.

Lyon was older, he was eighteen years old, like Mason. You had met him at school on a spring afternoon. You walked through the school hallways, books clutched to your chest. A gust of wind caused some of the books to fly out of your hands, scattering them across the hallway floor.

Lyon was passing by and noticed the scene. He approached you with a smile and that is how the story started.

Your brother didn't approve of your new boyfriend. He knew that her sister just wanted to show his best friend that the age difference wasn't that important.

Being with Lyon was great at first. You knew that he was not the love of your life, but for the moment he seemed to play the role quite well, so that was fine with you. It was a Friday night and you and your brother were at a party at the house of one of your brother's friends.

You were downstairs in the kitchen while your friends watched you drink alcohol like there was no tomorrow. They realized something was bothering you, but decided not to mention it.

—Where is the lover boy anyway? —Spoke one of your friends.

Your lack of response was when they realized that Lyon was the reason for the sadness that was painted on their best friend's face. He abandoned you, once again. This seems routine, they thought.

You slammed your empty red glass against the kitchen counter, wiping the drip from your chin as you decided that was enough.

—I'll go look for him.

From the corner of the room, your brother wished you good luck and with courage, you stumbled through the party. The house was huge. Enormous windows covered the entire house. From the kitchen window you could see the river of lights going down to the beach.

And there he sat, on the stairs leading to the illuminated outdoor pool, Lyon. A thin blonde girl was sitting on his lap, probably older than you. She took the cigarette from Lyon's lips and placed it on top of her painted red lips.

Tears welled in your eyes as you returned to the house with your heels in hand. With all the bad luck in the world, as you returned, you heard in the background:

—Baby, relax. —You ignored your boyfriend's call as you made your way through the crowd to return to the kitchen, hoping that your brother was still there.

You made it to the kitchen before your boyfriend grabbed you by the back of your arm and pushed you against the kitchen island.

—Come on, I didn't even do anything—

—She was on your lap.

—It's not that serious, okay?—

—It's a big problem! I'm humiliated! —You shouted back, creating a scene you desperately wanted to avoid. Lyon's grip tightened around your arm as he tried to wriggle out of your grasp.

—Let go of me, you're hurting me. —That only made his grip tighten around your arms.

—Let her go, mate. —Your vision was too blurry to focus on what happened next, but you felt Lyon back away.

—Oh yeah?… and what are you going to do about it, Mount? —That's when the punches were thrown and Lyon was left hunched over holding his split lip. Your now ex-boyfriend was grabbed by someone else before he could lunge at who you assumed was your brother, but when you turned your head you saw Mason shaking your hand out of pain.

His knuckles were red and his eyes were darker than what you were used to.

—Let's go to the car. —Said Mason, you nodding your head. —Get in the car. —He said. His tone was strong, not what she was used to.

Still, the ride to your house was silent, you sitting in the front with Mase, while your brother passed out in the back seat. Faint English music played on the radio as Mason's eyes were firmly fixed on the road.

Mason finally spoke. —You really don't know how to choose them, don’t you? — You could only sob again, unable to answer him mainly because he was right and you were ashamed. When the car stopped, he unbuckled his seat belt and murmured that he would walk you to your door.

Mase rocked on his heels as he watched the moonlight highlight the tear-stained cheeks of his best friend's sister. He thought you looked beautiful that night even though you had been crying for the last half hour, your hair hadn't been brushed, and you were digging through your purse like crazy.

Although he would never admit it.

—I got them! —You laughed, waving your keys in the air before bumping your nose with the keychain. You paused as you pushed the key into the door, turning to look Mason in the eye for the first time since the party.

—Thank you. —Mason didn't want to hear it. You were just her best friend’s sister.

—It's no big deal. —

—No… really thank you, Mason. —you smiled and Mason listened too, mainly because it was probably the first time you had called him Mason and not Mase.

After a moment, you dropped your bag to the floor and wrapped your arms around the boy's waist, your head resting on his chest as he quickly moved his hand and rubbed your back.

—Just... make sure the next one isn't a complete idiot, yeah? —he whispered, his chin resting on the top of your head.

That sentence broke your poor little heart.

[queers-gambit]

Ignorance is Bliss

prompt: turns out, you didn't care if they fucked - it's her job. you do, however, care that your husband's been confiding in her more than you. -> or in which your husband has an emotional affair.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!wife!reader platonic pairing: Aegon Targaryen x mean!bestie!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

collection masterlist: Pumpkin Eater - coming soon!

word count: 3.2k+

note: because we don't explicitly see them fucking, this is an emotional affair. cool? cool.

warnings: kinda AU timeline so very small spoilers, alcohol consumption, Aegon's a gossipy little bitch, kinda mean!reader, self doubt, not all cheating is physical - this is a single variation. cursing, established relationship / wife!reader, relationship angst, generalized angst, hurt no comfort, feelings are hard. Aemond's a dick, ONE SHOT, abrupt ending, drama, technically friends to lovers, is this a toxic relationship? idk, maybe. not edited. requires maturity and caution.

"Oooooohhhhh, sis-teeeerrrrr! Sister, where art thou!?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," you snarled quietly, dropping the book in your hands to your lap in defeat. "Is nowhere sacred?"

"Sister! Sister, dearest! Hello? Your little handmaiden said you were down here! Wheeeeere arrreeeeee yoooouuuuuuuu?"

"This fucking lecher will wake the whole bloody Keep," you shook your head with a scoff. Then, with a raised voice, you called, "Over here, Aegon!"

"Who's here!?"

"Left!"

"It's dark - where's Left!?"

"Oh, Gods, walk straight ahead of you!" You watched as the King slowly revealed himself, turning every which way. "Okay, halt." He did, hands held out carefully. "Turn a little... No, no, over here, mate - to your left... Your left... Your LEFT! Aegon, your other left!"

"Oh, hoooo!" Aegon giggled when he spun in a complete circle before pausing upon his sight of you - sitting beneath the Heart Tree in the Godswood. "There you are, sister! Oh, you look glorious tonight!"

"Fuck off with your fake compliments, Aegon, what do you want?"

"Perhaps I am merely happy to see you!"

"You're never authentic, tell me what you want. Why do you seek me?"

"Well, that's no way to speak to your King."

"I am speaking to my brother-by-law."

"Not your friend?" He pouted dramatically before dropping to the spot beside you in the dirt, groaning, "Oh, how do you sit like this? It's - It's miserable. The bloody roots... Here, I got this, this will help, make it allllllll better," he wriggled around to pull his flask from his belt.

"How much have you had to drink tonight, friend?"

"Enough," he assured, taking a swig, "but this is mostly for you."

"Oh, I'm fine - "

"I think you'll need it, sister."

"Why's that?"

"I have something toooo telllll yoooouuuuu," he sang with a devilish grin.

"I truly don't care for petty gossip - "

"It's about Aemond."

"Spill, bitch."

"Okay, so," Aegon and you both readjusted to face one another in your respected cradles of the Heart Tree's roots, "do you know where he was tonight?"

"Am I to track his every move?"

"It was a mere question, sister, c'mon, play along and humor me."

With a sigh, you relented with a shrug, "He was... Supposedly in the library."

"Wrong," he handed over the flask, "he was in a brothel!" You lifted the flask to your lips and took a slow pull, narrowing your eyes in suspicion. "I swear it, we walked in on him! I would not lie to you! Well, not about this!"

Gulping, you pondered, "Hmm... Who's 'we'?"

"Myself and, uh, some of the Kingsguard who had yet to be blooded... If you catch my meaning."

"Everyone always catches your meanings, you wouldn't know subtly if it smacked you in the face," you chuckled dryly, taking another swig. "Where were you? Which brothel?"

"Sylvie's? Whatever her name is - the one with the lion's head door knocker."

With another nod of understanding, you asked, "And who was he with? Just one woman?"

"Yes, yes, just the Madam of the House."

"I see... Hm... Wait, do you mean - "

"The woman he lost his boyhood to?" Aegon snickered, "Yes!"

"I was going to say the brothel owner, but all right. Do keep in mind you're not just exchanging gossip, Aegon, but telling a wife you found her husband in a brothel," you sighed, nodding and knocking back one last shot.

"Right, no, you're right," he cleared his throat. "I apologize for sounding so... Um, uh, insensitive?"

You snorted slightly in amusement, knowing he never apologized to anyone but you because he never cared for what others thought. It was a foreign sound on his tongue, so you took mercy and moved on, sighing deeply and revealing, "In truth, my friend, I think I'm just shocked."

"Ah, well, that's to be expected, innit? Every wife is."

"Is yours?"

"No," Aegon snickered. "But I have to admit, after seeing how he pined and begged me to set you two up, I did not think my brother could ever be the type to cheat."

"Nor I. It's why I let you arrange our betrothal."

"Are you angry?"

"I'm processing."

"Well - "

"Aegon, shut your trap for just a moment," you pleaded. "It's a lot to take in and process, I'm unsure what I feel in this moment."

He paused and nodded, breathing deeply before taking a swig from his flask. "Are you angry at me, though?" Aegon asked softly, like a wounded child - akin to who he was on the inside.

"About what?" You asked patiently.

"Telling you...?"

You heaved a deep sigh, "No, no, my friend. I appreciate knowing, though, you took far too much pleasure in telling me."

"Well, in my defense, it was quite humorous to find him in such a position."

"I don't wish to know - "

"They were cuddling!"

You couldn't help the small chuckle that burst forth, asking his drunken person, "So?"

"Well, it's weird, is it not? To cuddle with a woman you pay to fuck you?"

"Some men have paid for weirder things, cuddling is the least of it."

"Are you trying to rationalize your husband's cheating?"

"No, just - defending different tastes?"

"You sound in denial."

"Perhaps I am."

"Have another shot," he insisted, nudging the flask closer.

"No, I should, uh... I should head back, confront Aemond."

"He might already be there, he left in a real big huff."

You sighed and nodded, "Tell me something in truth, please, Aegon?"

"Now would be the best time," he snickered, but nodded and gestured you to continue.

"Cheating doesn't mean he's... Unhappy, does it?"

"It could mean anything, everything, honey. Do you truly believe it's cheating when we aren't meant for just a single person to begin with?"

"What're you on about?"

"Well, no one person can be everything to anyone. Right?"

The entire walk to your chambers, Aegon's words echoed in your head. You had to admit, you understood where he was coming from, what he meant; but you hated the concept that cheating could be excused because humans weren't 'simply' monogamous. What a pathetic excuse, humans were capable of a great many things - being loyal and trustworthy among them! You oft heard it said you were only ever asking too much if from the wrong person, and the idea that Aemond was your "wrong person" to ask anything from gutted you in a surprising way. To say you were caught off guard was an understatement.

He was supposed to be your friend and husband, what happened to that trust?

You barged into your chambers, shutting the door in a flurried rush as you were desperate to speak with your husband; who you married at the age of ten-and-five after years of companionship. Your family had serviced the Targaryens for ages, it was only natural you grew alongside the newest brood; finding an unlikely, lasting friendship with Aegon, of all people. It was surprising, but the pair of you seemingly needed someone to lean on, so you developed a friendship to keep the other in line; something you obviously failed at.

YET - if Aegon would say humans are not monogamous, you'd argue humans had free will and made their own decisions. So, the little lecher should be held accountable for how he turned out as much as Aemond should be questioned about what was seen in the brothel.

It was Aegon who set you up with his brother. Aegon who supported your courtship. Aegon who instigated your engagement. Aegon who told you your husband was found in a brothel, cuddled up to the Madam... Naked.

Upon your inspection, Aemond wasn't back yet.

For mere fleeting moments, you despised being alone, finding the silence haunting; your chambers too big, too empty, too cold without your husband's usual warmth. However, the moment you thought of him in a whorehouse, laid naked with a woman not you, rage returned ten fold; burning bright and white-hot in your gut. You needed to nip this curious situation in the bud. Tonight. By confronting him. No matter how scary or anxiety inducing it surely will be.

So, you waited.

With a glass of wine, you settled in your living quarters; tucked on the loveseat with nothing keeping the thoughts at bay. They were terribly invasive, forcing you to relive your discovery and accept your husband preferred the company of whores over you. Forced to accept he was cheating on you. You waited.

Maids entered your chambers for nightly chores, even letting you remain in place, facing the door, when fixing your hair in loose braids for sleep. They turned your bed down, placed hot coals under the blankets, refilled wine decanters, and lit the candles in each corner of your suite. Aemond's prolonged absence might've been cause for concern if you hadn't been cursed to know where he was. You waited.

Yet that anger was dulling into something more alined with annoyance to learn he lied. "If he wants to fuck painted whores, let him fuck painted whores," you thought, "it's the lying and deception I am uncomfortable with! What need could he have for lying about his whereabouts? Was this an affair of some sort? Was it just my flesh he desecrated or our wedding vows, too? If he wanted to fuck whores, that was fine - it was just their job, they did this for coin. Yet if this was an affair of some sort - like the rumors of Prince Daemon and his mysterious whore he lifted from the ashes - I don't know how to move past that. Please, please, Gods, let this just be him wanting to fuck painted whores." You waited.

Your leg bounced, a fresh decanter of wine being presented and set upon the table you sat before. Nerves prickled your skin, tension coiled your stomach, heart hammering so intensely that it nearly beat out of every pulse point; so you reached for your chalice to quell the erratic speed in which everything throbbed. Polishing off any drop of wine, you felt warmed to your core - though, whether from the alcohol or anger, who could tell? You waited.

Your ladies maid lingered after the others filtered out; laying out an acceptable night gown, dressing robe, and house shoes the Dornish called "slippers". She tried to goad you into changing into them, but you insisted you would later. When she questioned you, you answered your business tonight was not yet concluded and you could not yet prepare for bed. Kindly, she asked if there was anything she could assist you with, but all that was left was to refill your goblet with a worried gaze before being dismissed for the night. Still, you waited.

Until, finally, after hours of isolation, your husband returned. He didn't seem to notice you yet, whipping off his cloak in a flourish only to drape it over the back of a perpendicular chair. When he noticed you, he jumped slightly, "Gods, love, what're you doing? I wasn't expecting to see you there."

"No shit."

"Why're you out here? Awake?" He asked, dropping into a padded arm chair so he faced you. In truth, you were grateful since either the wine or acute anxiety prevented you from finding your feet. "Oh, I see," he purred. "Can't sleep without me, can yah?" Aemond's lips curled at the corners.

"I'll sleep easier after you confess."

"To what charge, my darling?" Aemond reached for your thigh, but you swatted him away. With a sigh, he sassily requested in a quip, "It's been a long night, just tell me what you're upset about, I won't play these games."

"You're disrespecting the vows and sanctity of our marriage by visiting brothels! What an insult to spend the Crown's coin on such foul debauchery, Aemond, you were supposed to be a better man than this!"

He froze, staring at you without blinking. Then, slowly, Aemond asked, "What?"

"I know, Aemond! I know about Madam Sylvie." Then, to your shock and horror, Aemond chuckled; leaning back in his chair, hand raising to curl over his lips as if to hide his amusement. You shot out of your seat, "Oh, fuck you, then - "

"No, no!" Aemond rocketed to his feet, two long strides bringing him to your side. His hand grabbed your upper arm, "No, my love, listen to me - you do not understand - "

"You went into a brothel, it's not a riddle, there's nothing for you to explain nor for me to further understand, I am no fool," you snapped, allowing him turn you so you faced him.

"I did nothing of the sorts with her - with anyone."

"I'm not so ignorant nor foolish. You forget, I grew up with you and Aegon! Our own King Lecher!"

"I swear to you, my sweet wife, I have not lain with anyone since our marraige but you."

"How can you stand there and lie to me? Aegon saw you! Naked with her, in bed!"

Your husband took a deep and long breath, then told you slowly, "When I was ten-and-three, Aegon took me to the Street of Silk."

You nodded with a small roll of your eyes, "Yes, I know."

"The woman who I laid with - she's a Madam, yes, named Sylvie."

"So... You... You visit the woman you lost your virginity to?"

He sighed, "Yes, and I know it sounds strange."

"It's borderline wretched, Aemond, to us, this relationship. You are not making the case you think - "

"Please, allow me a moment to finish explaining?"

You've never seen or heard Aemond beg, so you nodded slowly, "Speak."

"I visit Madam Sylvie... Because she's the only other woman I've lain with. There's a certain level of... Comfort that goes beyond her payment. I lay with her, yes, but only together, in bed, without ever fucking."

"You just, what? Cuddle?"

"Yes."

This made you pause. With several flutters of your lashes, you asked, "W-Why?"

"I felt I was bringing home to you too much tension and strain... This war takes its toll on us all, so I go to Sylvie to unload and... Be vulnerable? Have an outlet?"

You're unsure how long you must've stood there in genuine confusion, earnest hurt, prolonged disappointment, but jolted when he tugged you forward towards the loveseat again. After he guided you to stiffly sit, you met his eyes with confused tears while he asked, "My love? Would you say something? Anything?"

"How... How long?" You managed to croak.

"Only a few visits."

"And you've not fucked her?"

"I've not fucked her."

"You just... Lay together, naked, and what? Talk?"

"Yes."

"W-What?"

"I fear I do not know what else I can clarify, love."

You just nodded and leaned back in your seat, sighing deeply. Aemond mimicked your position beside you and tentatively picked up your hand to hold. You swallowed thickly, asking, "So, you've not slept with Madam Sylvie?"

"No."

"You go to her for some kind of emotional comfort?"

"I suppose."

You nodded slowly. "You just talk... Naked, in bed, laid together, and talk."

"Yes. It is a grave comfort in this time of uncertainty."

You couldn't help but snip, "And I do not provide such comfort?"

"Darling girl - "

"What do you speak of to Madam Sylvie that you cannot speak to me about? What comfort can she provide that you cannot seek in me? What insights to this war can she provide that you cannot hear from me?"

Aemond froze, blinking in shock and letting his thin lips part without words. "It is... You are not serious, are you?" He suddenly snipped.

"Deadly," You assured.

"You're angry at me for speaking to another woman?"

"It's more than that and you know it. You lay in a private bed of a public whorehouse, naked! Open! Vulnerable! You speak to her as you do a wife - as you do me! You seek her ear when you neglect mine own!"

"Do you hear yourself?" He chuckled cruelly. "I have never fucked her, yet you grow angry - irritable! You pick this fight with me when all I do is unload my burdens - "

"What burdens!? What burdens do you have that I do not already know of!? That you cannot speak to me about?"

You both stood off the loveseat - taking several paces in opposite directions to distinguish space and sides of this fight. "Perhaps that is what I seek! An unbiased ear! An opinion untainted by the venoms of the vipers of the Red Keep! Someone removed, uninvolved! Someone on the outside that - that - "

"That will what, Aemond? Take your side?"

"Yes! Perhaps that is something I seek!"

"You pay a woman to tell you woe is me!?"

"You make it sound so vain - "

"How would you phrase it, then!?"

"That I need an outlet! With everything going on, I needed something more!"

You nodded sarcastically, "Well, you'll be needing her for more than an emotional outlet from now on, won't you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Aemond watched you storm away, following hot on your trail, barking, "Hey! Don't walk away - I'm speaking to you!"

"You know," you pushed into your bedchambers, "I didn't think you'd be the one to belittle my feelings so easily!"

"I fail to see how this is even an issue! Why're you - what're you doing, now!?"

"You being blind to my feelings is why I think we should spend a few days apart," you snarled, shoving a few items into a carpet bag and rushing in a flurry to grab necessities and comforts of 'home'.

"Fine."

You paused, glaring at him and asking, "What? That's it?"

"You wish for a fight?"

"Anything - "

"I told you, I will not play games. So, fine; leave," he shrugged. "I certainly won't be."

"Oh? That so?" You challenged - obviously already planning on leaving, but wanting to test him.

"I'm the Prince," he eased, "you're the one married into this family, I will not be the one to vacate these chambers. So, fine, flee, go, take your things and be gone. I'll send for the maids and have a chamber prepared for you, take your time packing the rest of your items."

You watched him charge from the chamber and slowly lowered onto the edge of the bed behind you; crumpling the laid out nightclothes while pulling the carpet bag closer to your chest. Blinking rapidly, you fought back tears and decided that perhaps your marriage was too far gone if your husband was so willing and nonchalant about you wanting distance post his breech of trust. He had evidently emotionally moved past you, something you hadn't realized was happening in real time before it was too late; and now, you were left to reel in the aftermath.

Why did Aegon have to tell you? Why did you have to know? They say Ignorance is Bliss, and if you didn't know, you and Aemond would be right as rain right now. He could have all the alone time with Madam Sylvie he wanted and you'd be none the wiser. But now that the cat was out of the bag, you were cursed with knowledge and felt incapable of processing, accepting, and moving forward in the wake of this emotional betrayal.

You didn't see Aemond the rest of the night, just the nightshift maids, errand boys, and guards who helped you gather your belongings and usher you into a new chamber... Three floors away from Prince Aemond, further evidence he perhaps did not intend to mend the tattered threads of your torn matrimony.

requesting rules and masterlist

Pumpkin Eater collection masterlist - coming soon!

HOTD masterlist

NO INTENDED SEQUEL

[mountttmase]

Change Of Heart

The End - Part Five

Note - thank you for all your feedback last week, I’m glad we’re all on team Mason but hopefully our girl has a chance to redeem herself this week 😭 feedback is appreciated like always and I hope you enjoy a bit of a lighter chapter 🤭

Pairing - Mason Mount x Reader

Word count - 7.4k

Warnings - series contains angst & fluff

It seemed like no matter where you looked, Mason's name was in your face. His boyhood club dragging him through the mud and as much as you tried to keep in contact and let him know you were there for him, he was keeping his cards close to his chest.

Mason had been linked with a few different clubs over the last few months, but the name Manchester United was one that seemed to be sticking. You didn’t want to get your hopes up that maybe soon enough he’d be closer to you both but as soon as you saw the here we go you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face.

Mason had messaged you ten minutes ago asking if he could call you but so far you hadn’t heard a thing. Gee was up in her room playing while you were making dinner but as soon as you felt your phone vibrating you turned everything off and answered as quickly as you could.

‘Hey Mase’

‘Hey love, you alright?’ He answered but you could tell straight away how emotional he was.

‘Yeah, fine. You?’ You asked carefully. Hoping he knew it would be okay to talk to you and after a beat of silence you heard him sigh.

‘Yeah, I um… I don’t know if you’ve seen’ he asked cautiously and you knew this was your time to step up and be the friend he’d always been to you. It was as clear as day he needed someone and you were ready to be exactly what he wanted.

‘I’ve seen, Mase’

‘Okay’ he gulped, his voice timid and it made your tummy ache at how sad he sounded.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Dunno, a bit numb to it all I think’ he chuckled but you could tell there was no joy in it. ‘I could really do with a hug’

‘Next time I see you I’ve got the biggest hug ever for you, okay? Gee too, I promise’ you reassured him but you could feel yourself becoming emotional at how he sounded. He’d been through a lot lately but you’d never heard him so downbeat.

‘Thank you’ he laughed ‘I’ll be seeing you soon I guess. We’re leaving the trip early to travel up and I’ve got a hotel for the week but maybe I could pop by?’

‘Of course, you can stay with me the whole time Mase you know that right?’ You offered but you knew it made more sense for him to stay with his family.

‘It’s fine, the club are paying for the hotel and then I’ll be away on tour no doubt. And I’ll hopefully have a house sorted when I get back’

‘Well you know you can come over whenever’. You reiterated and after a beat of silence you could help but ask how he was again. ‘Are you sure you’re okay, Mase?’

‘I’ll be fine, sorry I would say more but we’re in the car’ he explained and you understood immediately that he didn’t want to say too much in front of his family.

‘No it’s fine, listen I need to make Gee’s dinner and sort her out for bed but why don’t you call me later? Like when you’re in your room and we can have a proper talk’ you offered. Not wanting him to bottle it all up and make himself sick.

‘Are you sure? It might be late’

‘I’m sure Mase. I told you I’m always here, yeah? Even if it’s 2am I’ll wait for you, okay?’

‘Thank you’ he whispered and you could hear the emotion in his voice. Trying to gulp it down as best he could before he let you go so you could sort Gee out.

It had just gone midnight when Mason messaged you to say he was ready. He knew it was late and said if you were too tired it could wait until tomorrow but you were high on adrenaline and knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep without speaking to him first.

‘Hey’ he breathed as he answered. A little more pep in his tone which made you feel better but you knew this was going to be a hard conversation.

‘Hey Mase, how’s the hotel?’

‘Yeah it’s nice. Feels weird being in Manchester and not staying with you though’

‘I’ll see you soon though, yeah? I’m so sorry it didn’t work out how you wanted it to Mase, they’re complete dicks I swear to god’ you started but you could tell from his laugh on the other end of the line he was feeling better than earlier.

‘Y/n honestly, it’s fine. Yeah it’s sad and it sucks but I’ve had some time to think about it in the car and I think this is for the best’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah, like don’t get me wrong It's gonna be weird and will take some getting used to but it’s a fresh start and is not like I’m completely on my own. I’ve got Luke, Harry, Rashy and Jadon there. I’m sure the other guys are nice too but it’ll help having them around’

‘You’ve got a couple of other people up here too’ you told him with a smile and it’s like you could feel his radiating down the line.

‘Oh yeah, who's that?’ he asked cheekily and it was the most normal you’d heard him sound all day.

‘Well there’s me for starters. And there’s a little girl who’s asleep next to me who thinks the absolute world of you and I know she’ll be so excited to have you close by now’ you told him. Usually she would have been asleep in her own bed but you thought she was coming down with something and wanted to check on her so she was currently snoozing away peacefully next to you.

‘Have you told her yet?’

‘No, I thought we could tell her together? You know whenever you’ve got time to come here and I can give you that hug I promised you’

‘How about tomorrow afternoon?’ He suggested and you nodded even though he couldn’t see. Happy that you were seeing him sooner than you thought you’d be able to. ‘I’ve got my medical tomorrow but I might need your help with something after’

‘Let me guess? Is it the fact you look like a highlighter right now?’ You laughed and even through the phone you could see his little embarrassed smile.

‘A little bit’ he giggled. ‘Do you think you could help me sort it out’

‘I’ll grab some dye tomorrow on my lunch break, okay?’

‘And that’s why you’re my best friend’

‘That’s me’ you gulped, the phrase rattling around in your brain a little bit and making you feel uncomfortable.

You weren’t sure if it was the fact you were feeling incredibly protective of him right now but the sound of best friend falling from his lips made you a little disappointed for some reason. You shook it off though and spoke to him for a little while longer until he sounded even more himself again before he had to go. You knew tomorrow would be a long day and he needed his sleep so with a quick goodnight you ended the call.

Mason came over at around 4pm the next day and you opened the door in a hurry. Excitedly pulling him into your arms and you didn’t miss the way he clung to you tighter than he ever had. A quiet sob falling from his lips but you heard it loud and clear and it made your heart break.

‘Oh Mase, come on let’s go and sit down’ you told him. Pulling him into the living room and popping him on the sofa but he was biting his lip to keep it all in and you didn’t want him to. ‘You don't have to put a brave face on for me okay?’

‘I know’ he sniffed, but you knew he didn’t want you to see him upset so you pulled him into your chest and let him hide his face. ‘Fuck I can’t believe it’s just over and done like that’

‘They don’t deserve your sadness. Just think of this as a new adventure okay? It’s not the one you���d planned but life works in mysterious ways’ you told him as you ran your fingers over his scalp

‘I know, thank you love’ he mumbled sleepily. Relaxing fully into your hold and you knew this was the first time he’d been able to be free with his emotions and not put on a front.

You both sat like that for about half an hour. Mason telling you all about his medical that took place and you were pleased to find out he’d passed. He hadn’t managed to see many people at the club yet though and he was hoping he could meet some of his team mates tomorrow but before long the inevitable question came from him.

‘Where’s Gee?’

‘She’s asleep’ you told him with a laugh. ‘I should wake her up soon, she was just being a right grump so I put her down for a nap. I think she’s getting a little cold’

‘Ah no, poor thing. Can I wake her up?’ He asked shyly and you were in no position to deny him. Thinking you’d probably do anything at this point to make him smile so you took his hand and squeezed it gently.

‘Go on then’ you smiled. Following him into her room where he carefully tried to wake her up and you had to hold on your giggles at the way he was being so careful not to make any noise. Laying his face next to hers whilst shaking her gently to try and wake her and you watched in delight as her face lit up at the sight of him.

‘Masey’ she mumbled sleepily. Wrapping her arms around his neck so he could lift her and you could see it as clear as day how much joy she gave him. Watching on from the doorway full of love at your two favourite people and from the way Mason was smiling at you, you knew he was feeling it too.

‘Surprise, pickle’ he laughed. ‘I thought you might not recognise me’

‘She’s been calling you candy floss head ever since I showed her the picture of you the other week’ you laughed, walking over to the pair of them so you could brush your fingers through his grown out locks and you didn’t miss the way his eyes fluttered shut at your touch.

‘Well I can’t be candy floss head anymore. Uncle masey is having his picture taken tomorrow so I need to sort the barnet out’ he told her as she joined you in touching Mason's hair. ‘You're working tomorrow aren’t you? Its okay I was just wondering if you wanted to come along with the rest of us’

‘Oh I would if I could Mase, but I’m down a few staff for holidays and if Gee is out of daycare for a day that I’ve paid for she might lose her place’ you pouted but he just nodded understandingly.

‘It’s okay, I’ll just send you updates’ he smiled. Looking back down at Gee who was smiling up at him happily. ‘Come on then, let’s sort this out’

You made him sit on the edge of the bath with the towel around his shoulders as you applied the dye. Gee watching on as you coated his hair and it was good to see she’d perked up a little bit with Mason around. Singing him the new song she’d learnt that day whilst trying to teach him the actions but he couldn’t quite get it and she would laugh hysterically each time he messed up.

Once it was all washed out and he was back to being your Mason, you made a start on dinner so you could all sit together and once it was over you could see Mason was itching to tell Gee his news.

‘Hey Gee, you know how much you love having uncle Masey around?’ You started, watching her little head nod up and down enthusiastically. ‘Well what if I told you we might be able to see him a lot more often now?’ You told her but the reality suddenly hit that you didn’t know for sure if he’d be able to see you guys anymore than he did. He just said he was moving closer and that was all. ‘Well I hope we will at least’

‘Of course you will, I’ll be bugging you everyday if I can’ he told you sincerely but you just giggled at him before he turned to Gee with a smile. ‘Uncle Masey is getting a new house not too far from here so I’ll be able to see you all the time. And we can have sleepovers and all sorts. Maybe I can come and get you from daycare sometimes? What do you think?’

She couldn’t speak much, her mouth full of pasta as Mason was still feeding her but from the way she clapped her hands and tried to laugh excitedly you could tell she was over the moon at the idea.

‘You don’t have to do that, Mase’

‘I want to though. You help me out all the time and it’s no biggie if it gives you a bit of a break. You’ve been on your own up here but you’ve got help now’ he told you sincerely and you felt your chest warm at how kind he was being. ‘Plus you guys know all the good places up here now. You need to teach me the ways’ he joked but you couldn’t wait to take him to all your favourite places properly.

Mason couldn’t stay too much longer, claiming he needed his beauty sleep so he didn’t look rough in his pictures so you let him go with the promise that he’d call you as soon as he could the next day.

You texted him that morning but didn't expect to hear from him until much later that evening though as you knew he’d had a long day but you just stepped through the door, your phone began to ring.

‘Hey, Mase. How did it go?’ You asked excitedly as soon as you answered the phone and you heard his little giggle straight away.

‘Yeah really good thanks, love. We’re just on the way back to the hotel now’ he told you and you could tell by his voice how much happier he seemed than yesterday. ‘Do you think you’d wanna join us for dinner tonight? We’re just eating there but I know Summer would love to see Gee and my mums asking after you’

‘If it gets me out of cooking then I’m all for it. Just let me know when and where and I’ll be there’ you told him and within the next half an hour you were on your way. Lewis meeting you out the front so he could take you to everyone and Gee was quick to run to Summer who gave her a big hug.

Seeing Mason's parents made you realise how much you missed your own. You saw them every so often when you made the trip home or they came to visit but being surrounded by so much love made you feel a little homesick. Gee’s birthday was coming up soon though and you knew you’d be seeing them soon which cheered you up slightly.

You sat and listened as they told you all about their day. Mason chiming in when he could but he was sitting in between Gee and Summer so he had his hands full but every so often he’d send you a warm smile that made your heart melt.

‘Gee, you wanna come up and see my room?’ He asked her as you were finishing up your dessert and you could see her nodding up at him. ‘I’ve got a little something for you up there too if you’re good’

‘What have you done? You laughed but he just looked at you with his usual cheeky smile and you couldn’t figure out what he was up to.

‘Me? Nothing’ he winked, shrugging his shoulders before leaning over the back of Gee’s chair so he could talk to you a little more privately. ‘What about you anyway, have you been good?’

‘I’m always good’ you chuckled. The question suddenly making your neck and cheeks feel hot and you didn’t miss the way his eyes flashed to your lips before he chuckled light heartedly.

‘I know you are, that’s why I’ve got something for you too’ he told you with a wink and you had to look down into your lap so no one could see how much you were blushing at his silly comment.

You bid his family farewell before he took you up to his room. Mason holding Gee’s hand as they walked in front of you down the corridor and your heart melted at the way she kept looking back and smiling at you like she was the happiest girl in the world to be with him.

Mason had that effect on people though.

Once in Mason's huge room, he sat Gee on his lap as you sat next to them as he did his best to explain to her that he was part of a new team now so he had a new kit before producing a little shirt for her. His name and new number proudly sitting on the back and after you’d helped her put it on over her dress she was straight over to the mirror to admire herself in it.

‘Number seven, yeah? Mason that’s huge’ you told him. Your voice emotional and you finally saw it in the flesh but he grabbed your hand and squeezed it gently.

‘I know’ he chuckled. ‘Big responsibility but I’m up for it. They’ve been really good to me, you know? I wanna pay it back to them’

‘Come here’ you whispered. Opening your arms and pulling him into a hug that he gladly accepted and you couldn’t get over how much you needed him close right now. The feel and smell of him brought you comfort more than anything and it was like you needed the hug just as much as he did. Knowing you’d been worrying about him for weeks but now you knew things would finally be okay made your shoulders relax.

‘I got you one too’ he mumbled. The words almost getting lost in your neck but you pulled away with a quizzical look before he was reaching over to hand you another new shirt. ‘I know it might be weird, you’ve always supported me at Chelsea so I get if you don’t wanna wear it-‘

‘Hey, I’m a you fan, Mase. I’ll support you in whatever way you need’ you smiled. ‘Plus I think I prefer the red anyway, it matches my lipstick. The blue always clashed’

‘I mean I think you look good in whatever, but I’m glad you agree’ he shrugged and you felt heat rising up your neck at his compliment.

Mason stayed in the hotel for the next few weeks until he went on tour but you knew he wasn’t happy there. People had figured out where he was and would follow him home from training so when he got back from America and he told you his house wouldn’t be ready for another week or so, you practically forced him to move in with you.

It was nice having someone to come home to, someone to cook for who wasn’t almost two years old and someone you could have an adult conversation with.

Most of the time anyway.

Gee loved having him there too by all accounts, but ever her perceptive self she knew he was about to leave soon and her mood on his last full day with you took a plumet. She couldn’t understand why he wasn’t staying with you forever and she spent most of the day in a mood on the sofa refusing to eat. The only time she came out of her shell a bit was when Mason laid down next to her and put his head in her lap and she couldn’t resist him. Giggling as she tried to hug his head and kiss it sweetly and the whole interaction made you feel softer than ever for them both.

‘You don’t need to be upset about me going, Gee. You know we’ll still see each other all the time. Even more so than we used to, okay? I’ll only be down the road’ he assured her. ‘I can’t stay away from my favourite girl for too long so I’ll be back all the time’ he explained and you felt your heart thudding in your chest during their little conversation.

Mason had always been good with kids, but to see him like this with your baby was something completely different and as much as Gee was moody that he was going, you couldn’t exactly blame her as you were feeling the same.

‘You’re so good with her’ you smiled, watching him blush slightly at your compliment as he came into the kitchen a few moments later. ‘Though I am a bit mad at you’ you huffed playfully but he took your words seriously. His face dropping as he looked at you carefully and you could see the confusion in his big brown eyes.

‘What did I do?’

‘I thought I was your favourite’ you pouted. ‘I know she’s just a baby but I’ve known you longer’ you teased. Trying your hardest to look upset but he saw right through it. Giggling as he grabbed your waist and when he pulled you into a hug you relaxed as he held you.

‘You know you’ll always be my number one girl’ he told you softly. The words getting lost in your hair but that didn’t mean they lost their effect. Your skin breaking out in goosebumps as you tried to stop the giant smile at the thought of still being his favourite person but before you could tell him he was your number one too, he carried on speaking. ‘But since you decided to clone yourself, unfortunately you’re gonna have to share me’

You didn’t know what it was, but the thought of sharing Mason with anyone but Gee made you feel uncomfortable. Your smile dropping instantly as you instinctively held him closer but he squeezed you back just as tight before dropping a kiss on your head and pulling away.

Mason was yours, no one else’s

You remember thinking years ago that you’d have to put up with the person chose as his his own one day, just like Mason had done for you with Jack but now the prospect filled you with dread.

You didn’t want to see him with anyone else. The thought of him touching anyone else, kissing someone else… you hated the idea of it to the point it made your skin feel hot and clammy.

You knew you were being selfish, Mason wasn’t yours and you’d told him you didn’t see him in a romantic way but the thought suddenly hit you that if no one else could have him then what did that mean?

Did that mean you had to have him?

You’d never given being with him much thought, yes you knew he still harboured some feelings for you, at least he’d admitted as much around a year ago now but Mason had always been your best friend and you never really had time to sit and think about how your relationship had grown.

But now?

He was your safe place. Your light in the dark when things were going wrong and you felt hopeless. The boy that made you laugh when you needed it and held you when you needed that too.

The boy who’d taken on your plus one like she was his own and did everything he could in his power to keep the both of you happy and safe.

He made you feel like a family

You loved Mason. Loved him more than you realised or could possibly explain to anyone else as it only made sense to you but the possibility of now being in love with him was smacking you in the face.

He was over by the stove and you turned to steal a glance of him. His brows pinched and lips pouty as he stirred the pot you’d abandoned and you were filled with that same warm feeling. Like he was human sunshine and all you wanted was to bask in his glow but clearly you’d gotten yourself wrapped up in your feelings a little too much until the sound of his voice was snapping you out of your trance.

‘Have I got something on my face?’ He asked, wiping his cheek softly but you just smiled shyly at him.

‘Oh, n-no you’re good’

‘Stop looking at me like that’ he laughed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders but you were thankful that you could hide your face and the blush that had taken over your cheeks. ‘When Gee’s gone to bed, do you fancy watching a movie? Just us’

‘Yes please’ you whispered. Excited about the prospect of some alone time with him and with a quick kiss to your head he walked back over to the stove.

You had a few veggies left to chop so you asked him to keep on stirring the sauce whilst you chatted lightly and clearly he got a bit too confident as he went a bit too quickly and slopped some sauce on the side which he quickly cleaned with the nearest cloth.

‘Oh Mase’ you huffed. ‘That's a clean tea towel’

‘Sorry love’ he gulped, looking more guilty than he should but you just took it from him with a smile.

‘It’s fine, between you a Jack I’ve gotten used to it over the years. Must be a bloody boy's thing to stain everything’ you told him as you chucked it by the washing machine. When you looked back at him though he was facing away from you however his neck was red and you could see his shoulders were tense. ‘Mase? You alright?’

‘Yeah fine, I’m gonna go set the table’ he told you and without another look he was gone.

In typical Mason fashion he fell asleep watching your movie that night so you coaxed him onto your chest so he could get comfortable but you also used it as a bit of an excuse just to look at him for a bit. His adorable cheek squished as he laid there with his lips slightly open and you had to stop yourself from leaning down and kissing him. Shaking yourself out of your trance as a wave of confusion rolled over you and you sat there blankly looking at the screen.

This new found need to comfort him and love on him was overwhelming but you hadn’t vocalised anything yet and you knew you needed a big gossip session with Ell before you took any next steps. The kissing part was new though and you couldn’t tell if you were thrilled or horrified by it.

You couldn't stop thinking about him. Flicking through all the pictures he’d sent your way lately when you were in bed every night but the more you thought about being with him and everything it would entail, the more you realised it might not work.

You didn’t even know if he still felt the same after all these years. Yes you’d overheard him talking to Gee over a year ago but that was then and this was now. It has been years and you’d never shown him any inkling of wanting anything more, at least you didn’t think you had, and you were pretty sure he’d told her that he was learning to move on. He must have done that by now surely?

You were snapped out of your thoughts soon enough as you heard your front door being opened. It was a Wednesday so that meant Mason was picking Gee up from daycare and they were back for their dinner.

‘Hello love!’ Gee called excitedly as soon as she saw you. Storming over as quickly as her little legs would carry her and you chuckled at Mason's bemused face as you picked her up for a cuddle.

‘Love? Have I missed something?’ He asked but little did he know he was at fault for it.

‘She’s been calling me that for the last few days. I think she’s picked it up from you’ you told him. Kissing her cheek softly as you placed her on the counter so you could carry cooking.

‘Oh Gee’ he laughed standing in front of her and she sent him a giddy smile as he trapped her in between his arms that were leaning on the side. ‘That's mummy, not love’ he explained but you weren’t sure she was even listening properly. ‘She’s my love, but your mummy’

My love.

You hoped he didn’t hear the little gasp that fell from your lips at his words or the way you almost dropped your spoon into the sauce you were stirring but thankfully when you finally looked up Mason was still talking away with Gee and seemed none the wiser.

‘Do you think you could help me out for Gee’s party?’ You asked, trying to change the subject so you didn’t fixate on what had just been said and even though he was playing it cool, you could tell he was happy you’d asked him.

‘Of course, what do you need me to do?’

‘Well I was hoping you could take her out for the morning? Ell said she’d come over and help me decorate and then you could bring her over when it’s all done? Like for the big surprise?’

‘Oh thank god, I thought you wanted me to blow balloons up and as much as I love her I don’t think I’ve got the lungs for it’ he chuckled. ‘Oh wait, I thought your parents were coming up, do you not want them to have her?’

‘No that's a surprise too’ you nodded. ‘If she knows they’re here then she’ll be suspicious. I want her to see everyone all together’

‘Okay, yeah’ he smiled, nodding enthusiastically before turning back to Gee so he could plan their day together.

When the morning of the party came Mason was over early to get Gee and once she was all packed up they were off and out. Mason promising he’d message you with updates as soon as he could but you weren’t expecting one half an hour later no matter how cute it was.

You and Ell were the dream team. Decorating your house in record time with giant animal balloons and bunting that looked like giant leaves. You were going for a jungle theme as you’d managed to pass down your love of the outdoors to her, and the most important decoration was the giant giraffe balloon that you had tied to the back of her chair.

Gem the giraffe was Gee’s favourite toy. Her little comfort animal she’d had from the day she was born and she was rarely seen without it much to Mason's delight. Telling you all the time it was a good job he’d found it in the gift shop and it was the best £15 he’d ever spent but clearly today he was out to spend even more.

That's how most of the morning went. You and Ell working away as Mason sent you lots of updates and you wondered if it was because he was feeling nervous about his first time looking after her properly. He had her once a week all on his own but this was for a lot longer and you could tell he was worried about doing something wrong.

Soon enough guests were arriving. Noah and Tommy were the first to arrive as they’d been to pick up the cake and after your parents arrived you couldn’t contain your emotions. It had only been two months since you’d seen them but you missed them terribly being so far away and you always felt whole when they were up here with you.

You didn’t invite too many people, just a few of Gee’s little friends from daycare with their parents and Mason asked if Luke and his kids could pop by so you were excited to have them there. Luke had always been a sweetheart to you and you were excited to meet Anouska and talk to her about the little one she was currently growing.

You’d packed Gee a dress in her bag and you asked Mason to put her in just before they got back. Hoping that the pair of them could avoid staining it if she didn’t have it on all day and as you watched them walk up the drive hand in hand, you couldn’t contain your laugh as he’d kept on her new trainers with it.

She looked adorable though and when Mason walked her into the living room her face was a picture. Not knowing where to look as there were so many of her favourite people in one room shouted surprise but she was straight to you so she could show you her new shoes.

‘Very nice, baby’ you giggled. Kissing her cheek and wrapping her up in a big hug before everyone else came over to say hello and hand her a present. You could have cried from the soft little fank yews she gave everyone and the big smile she kept sending your way. Knowing she wasn’t 100% sure what was going on but she was happy nonetheless.

Gee wasn’t exactly shy, but you could see how much she loved being the centre of attention. Eventually going to join her little friends from daycare along with Luke’s kids so you could start the party games and before you could even think Mason was by your side with the gift you’d wrapped for pass the parcel. His phone already synced to your speaker and you could see Luke laughing at the way he seemed so into everything out of the corner of your eye.

‘Go sit next to her, I’ll do this bit’ he smiled and you quickly kissed his cheek before joining her. Only noticing around halfway through that he had a massive kiss mark on his cheek from your red lipstick but when Lewis turned up he was quick to wipe it off whilst teasing him.

Throughout the afternoon he was the perfect host. Constantly clearing up any mess he saw and making sure all the snack bowls were full. Doing the rounds and making sure both him and Gee got to speak to everyone and you almost lost it when you walked into the kitchen to find him wearing your favourite pink washing up gloves. He was so in the zone as he scrubbed away he didn’t see you looking at him until you approached and you knew his cheeks were burning.

‘Mason? What are you doing?’ You giggled but he just looked at you shyly before going back to washing up.

‘Just getting some of this done so there’s not loads to do later’

‘I didn’t invite you here to wash up’ you laughed. ‘Come on, I know you love a bit of pin the tail on the elephant’

‘You’re not wrong’ he laughed, placing the final plate into the drying rack and peeling your gloves off. ‘Come on let’s 1v1, I bet I’ll beat you’

‘You haven't changed, have you?’

‘Never have, never well’ he told you proudly as he swung an arm around your shoulders and you felt your love for him consume you.

‘Good’ you whispered, the pair of you seemingly getting lost in each other's eyes a bit but Mason ruined the moment by flicking your nose playfully before roughing your hair up.

‘I really like the theme you’ve gone with’ he told you as you walked back to join the rest of the party. ‘Reminds me of the parties we had as kids’

‘I just wanted her to have good memories like we did growing up’ you told him and you hoped she would. She seemed happy enough running around with all her friends whilst your mum fed her snacks every so often and as you looked around the room you knew you were right where you both needed to be.

‘Well with you as her mummy I know she will’ Mason told you. Snapping you out of your thoughts quickly but your eyes welling up immediately at his words. ‘I’m serious y/n. She’s the sweetest, funniest little girl and you should be so proud of yourself. You’re doing such a good job I promise’

‘Oh Mase’ you blubbed. Not realising how much you needed to hear that from someone and you quickly covered your face with your hands so he couldn’t see you cry.

‘Well that wasn’t meant to happen’ Mason laughed. Pulling you into his body so he could hold you tightly to chest as he rubbed your back.

‘Sorry, it just means a lot you know’ you told him and he nodded. ‘In the interest of saying thank you, then I need to tell you the same. I didn’t realise how much I needed someone until you got here and I appreciate everything you do for the both of us. I love you so much, Mase. You know that, right?’

‘And I love you just as much’ he told you softly. Wondering if he still meant it in the way he used to but his eyes were blurry from his tears and you couldn’t tell.

Once the pair of you were presentable again you re joined the party. Mason beating you at pin the tail on the elephant which he was more than happy about and you knew when it came down to just the pair of you for musical chairs he let you win. You still took it though and lauded it over him for the next hour until you needed his help. Taking his wrist and pulling him into the kitchen where he was looking at you with a surprised smile.

‘I’m gonna do the cake now’ you told him. ‘Would you grab Gee and sit with her at the table so I can bring it over?’

‘Yeah? You sure’ he asked with a coy smile. This felt like a big deal to him, like he was the special person who got to share this moment with her but you knew there was no one else you wanted sat with her. ‘Do you not want to sit with her? Or your parents?’

‘No I want you to do it’ you nodded. ‘I’ll only be a few minutes so be quick’ you told him and he was off before you could say anything else.

Once the candles were lit, you quickly chanced a look around the corner to make sure everyone was ready but the sight in front of you made your heart flutter. Mason sat to the table with Gee in his lap but all the other kids were around him as they listened to him telling them all they had to sing really loud so the whole street could hear them and they were nodding excitedly as they got themselves ready.

You gave a quick nod to your mum. Letting her know it was okay to turn the light off before you came in with the cake. The whole room singing to your baby as she clapped along with pure joy written all over her face but when you caught eyes with Mason you were smiling even wider. Popping the cake down in front of her as Mason was trying to teach her how to blow the candles out but she didn’t quite have the lungs for it. Both you and Mason helping her out in the end but you made out it was her and she was pretty proud of herself.

You cut up the cake so there was enough to go around and by the time everyone had a bit Gee happily munching away at hers so you joined her at the table with Mason.

‘Mumma, you wanna come sit with Gee?’ Mason asked but there was no way you were interrupting the perfect scene in front of you.

‘No it’s okay, you carry on’ you smiled enjoying watching him feed her little spoonfuls of cake but as the pair of you began to chat a little more he slowed down and she began to huff. His multitasking skills clearly failing him at this moment and you covered your mouth as you smiled at them.

‘Quick Masey, more’ she told him. Tapping his wrist gently to get him to speed up but he just laughed and rested his head on top of hers.

‘Sorry baby’ he chucked. Rolling his eyes at you at her sassiness but he sped up. Smiling as she hummed in satisfaction and rubbed her tummy like it was the best thing she’d ever eaten but you could tell Mason was missing out so you loaded up a fork and held it up to him. His cheeks flaming as he caught onto what you were offering him but he gladly accepted. Eyes boring into yours as he wrapped his lips around your fork and the moment was more intense and intimate that you could have imagined.

‘I can see why you want me to be quick now, Gee. That's some good cake, huh?’ He asked her, looking away as you coughed awkwardly and began to tidy around you as not to arouse suspicion as you knew you were blushing a little bit. You could see his eyes following you as he smiled softly though and the next time you looked his way you shared a soft giggle.

It was around an hour later when the last guests started to leave. Only Mason, Lewis and your parents remaining as you tidied up the last few plates but Gee was eager to play with her presents so you all sat In the living room

‘Hey, Gee? You wanna come get the surprise with me?’ Mason asked quietly as he sat with her on the floor. She was currently dressed in the vet dressing up set one of her little friends had gotten her as she gave her Gem a check up but with an excited giggle, Mason led her to the back room where she emerged moments later with a bag almost as big as her.

‘What’s this?’ You laughed. Taking it from her before she fell but as soon as you spotted the red box you knew what was going on.

‘Fank you for birfday mumma’ she laughed, clapping her hands as you took the box out of the bag.

‘That’s okay baby’ you beamed. Kissing her cheek as she pulled you in for a hug but soon enough she sat next to you in anticipation. Your eyes flying up to Masons immediately who sent you a quick wink and you dived back in to pull out the green Nikes that matched Gee’s and Masons. ‘Really Mase?’ You laughed but he just shrugged.

‘What? Can’t have you feeling left out can we’ he joked. ‘Are they okay?’

‘They’re perfect, thank you’

‘Thats okay’ he beamed. ‘I got you a little something else actually, come with me?’ he asked as he held his hand out to help pull you up and you practically ignored everyone else as you followed him into your kitchen.

You spotted it straight away. Sitting in your windowsill proudly in a new pot and your heart was hammering in your ears at the sight of it.

‘Is that an orchid?’

‘Yeah, I don’t know what happened to yours but I saw it was missing the other day so I replaced it’ he told you proudly and you felt your eyes sting.

‘Oh Mase’ you pouted. ‘I accidentally killed the other one’

‘Oh’ he laughed. Wrapping an arm around you so he could pull you flush against him and once he had you hid yourself on his shoulder. Feeling his lips on to crown of your head as he peppered small kisses there and the action made you hold him even tighter. ‘Consider this a second chance then’

Thats all you were asking for, all you needed from him.

A second chance.

To tell him how you really felt now. That he was your one and that you were sorry you never saw it sooner and if he let you, you’d make him so so happy.

You were just praying that moment would come for you soon.

Tag list - @saltyheartnightmare @harvestmount @prideofpd @sid-vii @carlottawllms @footiehoemcfc @katharinanadiaa @whenelifallsinlove @neverinadream @cityzenchick @msnmnt @stikkibun @masonmtxo @chillymountsjess @yoursselo @maseymm @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @leclerc13

[lalunanymph]

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐊

꒰ or, gojo decides to spend a bit more time with you in the morning before duty calls ꒱

tw. mentions of babies, unprotected sexy times, gojo is a simp but so are you for him, mild spoilers for jjk 236, pre shibuya arc (like literally the day before halloween), language, established relationship, petnames (baby, pumpkin, sweetheart), 2.3k words worth of FLUFF (copium) because we all need it after the jjk leaks (sob)

Gojo never believed in angels, but he liked to believe that you were an exception.

Like those celestial beings, you came to him in the nick of time when he was the most self-destructive after losing his best friend to a spiralling, cursed madness. You had bumped into him one day during his excursion downtown; your sugary sweet smile coupled with your honest, open expression drew him in and the rest, as they say—is history.

You see, the great Gojo Satoru rarely had anyone genuine in life and the one time he did, he had lost his entire boyhood and innocence within a year. 

“Satoru?” 

You shifted in his arms, knocking him out of his dark thoughts.

It was the night before Halloween, and while the world was getting ready to celebrate everything fantastical and spooky, Gojo wanted to take a moment to enjoy this little slice of normalcy with you by his side. 

“Yes, pumpkin?” Satoru’s voice was woozy, thick with sleep. 

He had barely slept since he was a teenager, but in your bed, he had always knocked out like a baby. 

The strongest sorcerer felt your tiny fingers in his hair, and could sense the warmth of your smile directed at him. 

“It’s almost eight.” 

He scrunched his nose, a pout worming onto his plush lips. “And?” 

Patiently, you exhaled out a sigh. “And you have to go to school to teach? Did you forget?”

For a split second, Gojo thought he could’ve teared up. Your innocence and your insistence wrangled his emotions out of tune; how you believed he was a simple high school teacher when he wasn’t even remotely normal. 

“I can step in a bit later, sweetheart.” 

He wasn’t used to this—emotions. Gojo was notorious for figuratively and literally putting a wall up between himself and the world. He never thought someone would ever break them down and pull him out into the light, all while wearing the prettiest smile. 

“Hmm,” you hummed, and shifted closer to snuggle up deeper into his embrace. “Then, I guess we can spare a few more minutes.”

Even with his physical eyes closed and his Six Eyes technique not activated, he could imagine the cheekiness lighting up your expression. 

“My, my, what are you suggesting, pumpkin?” 

Gojo felt your lips in the hollow of his neck, and his smirk deepened. 

“Satoru…”

It was the little things about you that could turn him on. Gojo Satoru didn’t need fancy lingerie, or a candlelit dinner for his heart (and cock) to swoon over you. Everything from your voice to your scent had the power to make him weak in the knees, and he couldn’t deny you, especially when you sound this needy and breathy. 

Prying his eyes open, he was greeted by the bare curve of your spine peeking from underneath the quilted blanket. The familiar shape of it soothed his worries and reminded him that you were here—you were still alive and willing to love him. 

“C’mere, pumpkin.” Gojo dragged you on top of his body, letting you splay out all over his chest and thighs. 

Your hair fell into your face and you impatiently huffed it out of your eyes, giving him a mock glare. 

“Satoru—”

“Ssh,” he whispered, holding your cheeks in his larger, paler hands, as if he were a jeweller studying a diamond under bright light. “I wanna see you.” 

“I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet.”

“That’s the best part.”

“You’re gross.” 

All this banter was getting him hard, and he fought back the urge to snicker. “Hmm. What else am I, pumpkin?” 

Scrunching your brow, you searched through your mind to find another adjective or set of words which would describe Gojo Satoru. But, whatever you said next exceeded his expectations. 

“You’re complicated.” 

Without missing a beat, Gojo snorted. “Complicated? How?” 

You pondered over it, and he gave you space to ruminate.

“You’re…” you trailed off, pink manicured nail tapping his broad pec. “You hide yourself from the world—that’s the best I can describe it.” 

He opened his mouth, but you beat him to the punch, over-explaining yourself. 

“No—wait. I meant like, you only show the world what you want them to see. You’re funny, you’re outspoken and fun… but, I feel like there’s a part of you that deserves to also be seen in the light, y’know? A part you think people will judge you for, but it’s completely understandable to have that part because you’re human.”

I’m not, he thought, but kept the words to himself. I’m not human enough for you. 

Instead, he plastered on a huge grin. “Look at you getting all philosophical in the morning. The sex must’ve been pretty good last night, huh?” 

You rolled your eyes, discreetly grabbing your pillow and smacking his stupid, handsome face with it. Gojo yelped, trying to avoid your blows, but made you believe you were faster than him. The white-haired sorcerer retaliated by grabbing another pillow and hitting you in the chest with it, appreciating how your tits jiggled and your stomach folded forward in peals of giggles. 

Your laughter echoed across the walls, bouncing lovingly in the recesses of his brain. He loved how wild and free you looked now—hair flying, cheeks flushed and eyes softened with contentment. 

Gojo couldn’t help himself; he gripped your hips, pushing you back onto the bed and nestled himself in between your thighs.

You had to know this would happen—how could it not?

You looked too damn beautiful and sexy for him to resist, and Gojo was a weak, weak man after all. 

“Satoru—” your hitched breath melts into a moan, back arching at the sensation of his cock sliding through your folds. They were still sticky from last night’s activities; blooming open for this morning’s debauchery.

“Yeah?” he murmured, those crystal blue eyes drowning with love. “You want this?” 

You give a needy, little nod in response. 

“Fuck, gonna give it to you, baby.” 

Gojo flushed with pride at how you tilted your hips upwards, murmuring a teary little yelp that smoothed out a honeyed moan when he pushed the first inch inside of you. 

“Almost there, pumpkin. You can take it, sweetheart, I know you can.” His voice oozed with saccharine sympathy, but those devilish eyes spoke another truth. 

You nodded, wanting to be a good girl for him—the best girl. 

“Nngh, yes, Satoru—oh!” 

Gojo bottomed out with a low groan, feeling your walls ripple around his throbbing length. Your chest was flushed with need, your glassy eyes half-mast and drinking in his twisted grin. 

“Fuck… so good… feels too good…” 

Satoru moaned like a man lost in a drunken stupor. He felt every ridge and bump of your precious insides; every nudge of his tip catching against your g-spot. With you, Gojo didn’t have to pretend or put his walls up; he was bare and open to the world, vulnerable for the first time in his life. 

It was terrifying in the most twisted way, gratifying in a beautiful one.

You made all these feelings bloom in his chest, like the first flower breaking through frozen ground after a torrid winter. Every time Satoru thought the world had wrung him dry, here was an angel that showed him there was more to life than being the strongest and the most self-sacrificing. In your embrace, he was wanted, cherished.

Loved. 

Satoru choked back a sob at the thought, and it came out as a low moan. 

“Fuck, Y/N… mine. All mine. All of me…”

He hid his face into your hair, inhaling the sweet strawberry shampoo wafting from your locks. It reminded him so much of innocence; of home. 

Satoru was home whenever he was with you.

Gojo had made love to you a hundred times before, but this time, it felt different. The air was tainted with a strange sense of desperation, like you both wanted to mark each other up as best as you both could. 

You left red lines down his back which would swell into welts and he was desirous enough to catch his teeth into your soft skin, right under your jaw, sucking and making his mark there. 

He grasped your hips, bracing back on his haunches. In this position, he could clearly see his cock easing in and out of you, drenched in your slick and desperation. 

“Satoru,” you hiccuped, and Gojo’s brilliant blue eyes widened behind his frosty white bangs when you started to rub shaky circles onto your clit. 

“Fuck,” he exhaled, using one hand to push back the hair from his face. The sight of his handsome yet flushed features was so unbearably hot, you involuntarily clenched down on him. “Wish you could see me the way I see you—you’re so fucking beautiful it hurts.” 

Coming from someone who could rival Adonis himself, this comment was gold. A trembling giggle bubbled past your swollen lips, and you swore you could've loved Gojo Satoru for a thousand lifetimes to come. 

“Y-you’re one to talk.” 

His plump lips stretched into a grin, your words stroking his ego.

“Eh? Wait, I didn’t hear you. Say that again.” 

Covering your face with the pillow you squeaked out a muffled, “No!” Satoru laughed, pulling the pillow from your grasp and fixing you with a gooey, lovesick look.

“What did you say about my face, hmm? Maybe if you say it again, I’ll fuck you harder.” 

The promise was tempting enough for you to drop your guard down and give into him. “I… I think you’re handsome, ‘Toru.” 

“Yeah?” he picked up the pace, and the sound of his balls slapping your skin would have made a pornstar blush. “Wanna have babies that look like me?” 

Your mouth fell open into an ‘O’, the sudden shift in speed making you light-headed. “Ngh, ‘T-Toru…” 

“Fuck, seeing you with a little white-haired munchkin—swear I’m gonna make it my life’s mission, baby.” 

Stop talking, you silently pleaded. Or else I’ll hold you to that promise. 

Gripping his face, you pulled him in for a deep kiss, one which set off fireworks in your brain and fizzled down your spine to where you were intimately connected with Gojo. 

“I love you, Satoru,” you whispered, once you let him surface for air.

Gojo gasped lightly, his eyes rolling to the back of his head when he felt you melt all around him. “Oh, shit—”

Like a blinding white light, your orgasm stole every last coherent thought from you—slamming into you like a heavy down blanket which smothered out your desire to take this relationship slow with Gojo. 

You couldn’t hold him back when every piece of you screamed his name. You wanted to belong to him as much as he belonged to you. 

“‘Toru!”

Satoru felt you tense up, every muscle in your body on edge like you were about to jump down a high cliff. He fucked you through the build-up, watching you crumble and fall apart right at his feet so he could put you back together and love you even harder. 

The tightened knot in his belly snapped, and he instinctively raised his hips to pull out, only to be stopped by your ankles strapping around his slim waist.

“Inside,” you cried out, the most beautiful, feral look of lust on your face. “Inside of me, ‘Toru.” 

How could he deny you? Satoru was a slave to your fancies; he would move heaven and earth at your request because you cried out his name and told him to. After all, being the strongest in the world meant nothing without someone’s love to back it up. 

Love is—was—the most twisted curse of all, and Satoru would prefer to be damned for an eternity than to live without your love ever again. 

He poured his entire heart and soul deep into your womb, hitching your thighs onto his shoulders and pounding into your poor, filled pussy with everything he had. Somewhere, in the far side of his brain, he registered that you had come again—your tight shoulders and sweet squeak floating through his hazy mind. 

Satoru cried out your name like he was calling out to the heavens for a blessing, and they gave him an angel in return who cradled him in her arms, pressing his sweaty cheek into her chest. 

The both of you took a few moments to come down from the high, and you cursed the morning for becoming brighter; for the light to take him away when you wanted to share the darkness with him again. 

It was where you felt the safest with him; you knew that Satoru would destroy any harm coming your way. 

“Baby?” 

“Hmm,” he hummed.

“How long would your work trip be?” 

“Ah,” Gojo closed his eyes, basking in the warmth for a little while longer. “About a few days. It’s that stupid Shibuya teacher conference.” 

He heard you breathe out a laugh at his petulance. “Will you come back in time so we can go try that Thai restaurant down the street? You promised to take me there ages ago.”

Satoru had to hide a laugh at your whiny request, but he could never deny it. 

“Of course, baby. Scouts honour.”

“That you’ll come back home on time, or that we’ll go there for our next date night?” 

Satoru winced at the sunlight streaming in, wishing he could pull the blinds close and lay with you in bed for a little while longer; that the universe didn’t demand for him to show up in the form of such a piercing, bright nuisance. But, he ignored the burden and duty that waited for him outside of these sheets, choosing to spend this moment of peace with you.

There would be no need to rush, and such a moment of peace like this was hard to come by in his life. 

Fuck it, he thought. The world would continue spinning and even the strongest needs a moment to be weak. 

“Both,” he promised.

“I’ll come back to you, baby. You know I always do.” 

gege when i see you on the streets it’s on sight

[flamingoofeathers]

𝗠𝗜𝗗𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗭𝗩𝗢𝗨𝗦 || 𝗝.𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗞

pairings: james hook x peterpansister!reader

summary: in the stories we were told, Peter Pan and Captain Hook were enemies, no one knew why, but this story shows why.

genre: fluff, angst (a tinsy bit for now)

one-shot; wc: 2.3k

main masterlist james hook masterlist

requested by @stargener

a/n: this is a 2 part series! ALSO THANK YOU FOR 100+ FOLLOWERS LIKE WHAT!? TYSM!! To those who care, i am feeling a lot better now, i can stand up without getting dizzy now, so thats really good!:) also not proofread.

Amongst all the tale told in the kingdom of Auradon, there a tale shunned away from everyone, a tale that defied their ideals of 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 and 𝗯𝗮𝗱. The story of the young Captain Hook and his romance with Y/n, Peter Pan’s sister.

Long before he become the fearsome Captain, James Hook, was just a boy attending Merlin Academy, a bully some may call him but in this specific tale, he was just a boy in love with someone he couldn’t have.

Meanwhile, Y/n Pan, Peter's younger sister, was a spirited and adventurous girl. Unlike Peter, who reveled in the chaos of boyhood, Y/n had a curiosity for the world beyond the walls of the Academy.

She often wandered away from campus, exploring the secret and forbidden places that the world offered.

Their paths crossed on their first year at Merlin, on the Black Lake. It was when Hook wasn’t acquainted with the VK’s yet. James, missing the comfort of his ship back home, had seen the lake with a neglected boat.

Oh how innocent and sweet James was, if only people remembered this part of him.

James got into the boat, rowing towards the middle, he closed his eyes, feeling the soft breeze of the cold wind, the slight swinging of the boat was enough for him to feel the nostalgia of home.

During this peaceful escapade of James, he was spotted by Y/n as she swam around the lake. Intrigued by the sight of a newcomer, she approached him cautiously.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice a mix of suspicion and wonder, as she snuck up on the poor boy.

“Bloody hell!” James yelled staring at the girl staring at him from the water “what the hell!? what are you doing in the water!?” James asked looking over the water.

“Going for a swim, as you can see. What are 𝘆𝗼𝘂 doing here?” The girl inquired leaning on the boat, James scrabbled to get back as the boat drop down on the side of the girl.

“A swim!? This lake is deep” James said agasp, cuz the lake is indeed deep, the girl knew that.

“It is, but not if you have some pixie dust that helps you” the girl chuckled. “Pixie dust? Doesn’t make you fly?” James said confused “it does.” The girl said showing him as she floated above the water.

“Oh.” James said in realisation “still. its the middle of the night, who goes for a swim at midnight?” He asked trying to avoid her question.

“Well…who goes in the middle of the lake and just close their eyes at midnight?” Y/n said raising her brow at him, who looked away.

James stayed silent, embarrassed and not knowing what to say, while the girl stared at him….𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 him.

“You miss home?” Y/n said with understanding tilting her head, trying to make eye contact.

James stared at the girl with surprise “yeah, you too?”

“Yeah”

Both remained silent, catching the longing in each others tone

“I’m James Hook”

“Y/n Pan”

As days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, Y/n and James found themselves drawn to each other. They both shared stories of their daily routine, their home, the adventures they had…and soon something blossomed between the two of them.

It was the last night of school, before summer break and the two spent the night talking just as they did the whole year.

Things have changed, Hook had found himself friends and y/n did as well. In front of the whole school they were enemies, prey and predator, but in the quite hours of the night, they were just James and Y/n, not what they 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 to be, but just the way 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙖𝙧𝙚.

“Your brother is just sooo fucking annoying” James groaned throwing his head back as he sat on the shore of the lake.

Y/n chuckled as she searched for sea glasses “why do you hate him so much?”

“Because he 𝗵𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 me, for what reason? I dont know, one day he just started acting all” James said irritated as he moved his hands around expressing his dislike towards the brother of the girl.

Y/n watched him with a smile on her face, she found their hatred towards each other to be a funny thing.

“You hate my brother but you seem to like me so much, i mean, we’re kinda the same person if you really think about it” Y/n said, teasing the hooked boy.

“don’t even start. You’re different from your brother, you’re kind and sweet, you’re brother is frustrating, big headed and irritating” James said.

“I don’t know how people believe that bad boy act of yours.” Y/n said leaning down towards Hook “you’re just a softie” she giggled pinching his cheeks.

“Ow. Ow. Stop that. Plus, we already talked about this, i need to keep up the act or else Uliana and the rest will just make fun of me” James said.

“Like how they make fun of me?” The mood dropped.

“Hey…no, c’mon, don’t do that”

“Yeah yeah im just messing with you” Y/n joked “it’s like 3 a.m. now, i think we should head back now” Y/n said checking her watch.

“It’s our last night together, can’t we stay any longer?” Hook pleaded holding Y/n’s hand, still sitting down.

Y/n leaned down and touched James cheeks “i want to, but we need to be up at 5 to get ready for departure, we need sleep”

They stared at each others eyes, neither of them wanted to go back, they wanted this night to last forever.

“We’ll see each other again next year” Y/n whispered making Hook sigh “you’re right.”

They walked through the woods, chatting, both dreading their arrival to campus. As the campus comes to view, the two unconsciously slowed their steps.

They stood in front of the “Merlin Academy” sign, fidgeting in their spot, hesitant to walk away from each other.

“I’ll see you in three months, James” Y/n said breaking the tension as she hugged the boy who hugged her back tightly, afraid to let her go. “Write me letters, yeah?” Hook mumbled into the girls neck.

They pulled back slightly, still embracing each other, their faces inches away “i will and you write back” the girl smiled as the fully pulled away.

“Good Night, James.” As Y/n was about to walk away, a hand caught hers stopping her.

“I have something to tell you” Hook said nervously.

“What is it?” Y/n said, she was hoping for it to be what she wanted to hear.

“I- well… uhh, i kinda-“ Hook stuttered

Y/n looked at the boy anticipating.

“You know what, i’ll tell you next year” James said kissing the girls cheek before rushing away.

The girl stood there stunned touching her cheek.

“What the fuck”

They had kept their promises, wrote to each other whenever they can, careful not to get caught.

Y/n’s brother, Peter, had caught on the weird behaviour of his younger sister, he brushed it off that she was excited to see her friends again but he had an inkling feeling that there was something or someone else.

The first day back at school, Y/n searched and searched amongst all the student at arrival for a certain black haired boy.

As they made eye contact, it felt as if the world stopped and it was just the two of them, their eyes sparkled at the mere sight of the other, they smiled at each other, lost in the moment neither of them realised the moving crowd.

Hook frantically looked around before turning to the girl once more mouthing “𝘭𝘢𝘬𝘦. 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵." as he got lost in the busy crowd.

“Y/n!” She heard as a hand gripped her shoulder, turning around seeing her brother looking at her “we need to go. c’mon, we’ll be late for the ceremony” Peter said dragging her along.

That night, Y/n had snuck out to see Hook at the Black Lake.

As she got closer to the lake, a figure she had missed to see for months came in to view. The hooked figure stood there under the majestic light of the moon. She paused to stare at the man she had unknowingly fell in love with over the course of last year.

James, sensing someone behind him, turned to see the girl that kept him up every night, the girl he sees every time he dreams, standing there as if the world around her shimmered with an ethereal glow. Her presence alone felt almost otherworldly.

James stared as she approached, simply admiring her beauty, she wore a dress that night, it draped over her, highlighting her every movement with a gentle sway.

“If i had known you were gonna be all dressed up, then i would’ve cleaned myself up better” James teased making the girl chuckle.

“Please, you look fine” she smiled as she came face to face with the boy “my brother organised a ‘welcome back’ party in the boys dorms” she explained.

They stared at each other, a silence filled with unsaid words circled them.

“I missed you” Y/n smiled leaning to hug the boy.

“I missed you too” James said hugging the girl back, inhaling her scent, engraving the smell into his head.

“Three months without was boring” Y/n chuckled as they pulled back.

“Yeah well, i do have that effect on people” James joked waving her off “wow. Nevermind, i take it back, I don’t miss you at all” Y/n said turning away from him pretending to walk away “Hey now.” James said pulling her back in by the wrist “i was just kidding” he said.

“Boat ride?” James asked as he lead her towards the boat they use “do i have a choice?” Y/n teased “No, not really” James teased back as he guided the girl into the swaying boat by the hand.

They chatted about their summer adventures while James rowed the boat to the middle of the lake, where they first met.

“I mean, i know right, he could’ve dodged the ball but he stayed there basically wanting to get hit” Y/n chuckled talking about the recent tourney games.

“Exactly, dramatic much” James chuckled.

Their laughs faded away slowly, both settling in a comfortable silence.

“Y/n?”

“Hmm?”

“Remember what i said before break?”

“Yeah” Y/n replied, on full alert, she had been waiting to talk about this for months but now that it’s happening, she’s scared.

“That i’ll tell you when we got back?”

“Yeah?”

“Well…” James knew that there was no turning back now, he had to do it.

He took a deep breath, taking her hands in his, he looked into her eyes, which reflected the colors of the evening sky “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something that’s been on my mind for awhile now. Every moment spent with you feels like magic and i find myself falling for you even more as days go by. You’ve become my most cherished thought and my deepest dream. When i’m with you i feel like i discover a new part of myself — a part only 𝘆𝗼𝘂 can bring out. Your laughter, your kindness and the way you see the world have captivated me. Life can be unpredictable but the one thing i’m certain of are my feelings for you. Being with you feels like coming home.” He paused gathering his thoughts “what i’m trying to say is: i am completely and irrevocably in love with you.” James let out after so long of hiding it, a weight lifted off his shoulders only to be replaced with the fear of rejection, of loosing her.

He looked at her eyes and saw the unshed tears swimming in them. He waited for a response or a sign that he hadn’t made a mistake, but he was met with silence. The girl was overwhelmed, she knew it was coming, but she didn’t know it was gonna be like this. She stared at the boy she fell in love with, unable to form words, her mind was in a mess, reliving every memory with him, a tear left her eye and cascaded down her cheek.

“James…i-“ she got cut off.

“And i know, that our situation makes it hard for us, every rule, every boundary, every expectation from the world around tells us we can’t be together. I can’t give 𝙪𝙨 up, Y/n, i just ca-“

She didn’t let him finish. In one swift motion, she leaned in and captured his lips in a sudden yet heartfelt kiss. They were lost in the intensity and the passion of the kiss, the world fading into the background. Her arms wrapped around his neck and his hands cupping her face.

When they finally pulled apart, their faces inches from each other, they were both breathless. His eyes searched hers, his panic driven mind long gone, replaced by a newfound warmth.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that” her voice trembled “i always felt like you felt the same but i was so scared that i would loose you if i had said something and so I didn’t, but god, James! I am so in love with you” Y/n said leaning in once more.

Both of them savouring the moment, lost into the magic that had sparked between them.

Neither of them noticed the figure that lurked above them.

“𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧" y/n whispered into the soft silence.

[elexaria]

brother’s best friend trope except ur simon’s sister and you both grew up with johnny!! pt. 1 for some context <3

you remember the day the mactavish family moved in down the cul-de-sac, a loud and proud scottish family— a mother, three daughters and two sons. all were older you, which meant you seldom had the opportunity to actually talk to them :(

well, not that you could at first. you still giggle when you remember how michelle and johnny mactavish turned up outside your door, askin’ if you and simon had lost a football. "maw found a fitba in oor front gairden and was curious if it belongs tae youse?" squeaks michelle, all toothy and sweet with her fiery red hair. you and simon exchanged a look, almost like ??? was that english??

regardless, it didn’t take long for simon to become close to johnny, both at the cusp of boyhood and enjoying the exploration of manchester’s back alleys and abandoned train tracks. it was hard living at home, how horrible your dad and older brother was towards you and simon. so, he starts to bring you along on their little expeditions, to protect you.

you’ve always been a shy little thing, and johnny takes every chance he can to make you squirm and blush. “och! look at this chonky wurm!” he chortles out, dangling a slimey worm to your face. simon stifles a laugh as he watches his best mate chase his baby sister around, a potent concoction of boyish laughter and grossed out whining.

even when you’re in your teenage years, it doesn’t change the way johnny enjoys teasing you. "don't look behind ye, but ah hink that lad ye fancy is starin' at ye." he whispers lowly, nudging you gently as he motions to a haggard old man, picking his nose at the bus stop while you all wait for the bus home from school. “johnny!” you whine out, a smirk tugging to your lips as you playfully shove him. simon watches on, a quiet presence in the dynamic riley-mactavish trio.

and then something changes in the dynamic. simon and johnny both decide to apply for the military, and the rest of the mactavishes have either moved back to scotland or have moved elsewhere in england. and it breaks your heart being stuck at home, having to wait those couple of years until you could make the decision to fend for yourself. “i’m not leaving you. i.. need to do this for myself, yeah?” simon promises as he stands at the bus stop, pleading for you to understand that he’s not abandoning you— he could never abandon his baby sister like that.

but it hurts, it stings and you can’t help the onslaught of angry tears that stream down your cheeks as you watch him leave. he’s abandoned you. the last person to ever take care of you, and he’s gone and left you.

for years— no, almost a decade— you cut contact with simon. when the time comes, you haul ass and move up north to pursue a degree in the arts. you push those bittersweet memories of growing up with your big brother and his best friend, how much you all laughed until your bellies hurt, how they were both always there for you whenever you needed a break from your hard life at home.

those memories dissipate. that is, until, you receive a call from simon.

[lycandrophile]

how can you claim to be a man when you never even grew up as a boy?

you were never raised a boy, you have no idea what it's like to grow up as a boy. you were raised as the female that you are.

by what standard did i not grow up as a boy? did i not get dirty enough or pull enough ponytails or play enough catch with my dad? is it that my hair was too long or that my clothes were too pink, or maybe that i was friends with too many girls or had crushes on too many other boys? should i have built with blocks instead of playing house, or liked dogs more than cats, or wanted to become a firefighter instead of a vet? if my grandpa gave me handshakes, not hugs, would that be better for you? if the tears bad been beaten out of me, would i get to be a man?

what of the men who grew up decades or even centuries ago, or somewhere across the world from you? surely, their boyhoods looked different than yours. have they lost their right to manhood too in your eyes, because they didn’t grow up quite right? or is it just us that you expect to live up to one stereotypical concept of what it means to grow up as a boy?

and what if you were right? what if my childhood was girlhood after all? i’m a 22 year old man with a partner of 6 years and a job in the same field as my degree and an adult life that i’m building for myself. how much of myself can you really expect me to define by who i was when i was a child? i would hope you don’t define your life by the way you grew up either; maybe your childhood was good enough to be worth basing the rest of your life on, but that would make you one of the lucky ones. the rest of us will be defining our adult lives for ourselves, thank you very much.

[songsofadelaide]

"These fatal fantasies giving way to labored breath— Taking all of me. We've already done it in my head. If it's make-believe, why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow?"

Author's Note: Reader is 19. Gojo is three years older.

You know how you have people you call aunt and uncle but you aren't actually related to them? And they're just really good friends with your parents? That's what Satoru's parents were to you. Your mothers were close since they were children and they both pursued modelling as they grew older. While your mom eventually retired from the game and chose a more quiet life with a kind lawyer for a husband, your Aunt Arisu became a famous supermodel and married into a family of old money— the Gojos.

And though your mom got married much earlier since she retired from modelling first, your Aunt Arisu got pregnant right off the bat after her wedding. She was a spoiled little thing, too, always calling for your mom and not so much her husband when her cravings and hormones reared their ugly heads. She often chided your mom to give her child a playmate, but not too late. She hoped to have a pretty daughter so they could wear fancy matching clothes.

Aunt Arisu's son Satoru was three years old when you were born. And while he wasn't the daughter she pined for, she loved him so, so much because he was just as pretty as she always hoped for. He was present when you were born, locked in his mother's arms as she held him out to take a peek at you.

...The story never gets old. Your mother and Aunt Arisu would always be laughing as they got drunk on their sweet wine every two weeks or so, and your family's kitchen was still a mess after hosting dinner for the Gojos again. Your fathers were drinking whiskey and smoking their expensive cigars on the front porch, talking about current affairs and stocks if you knew. And Satoru...

Well...

He was always welcome in your room. He always brought his own toys to play with and sometimes played with yours, too. Satoru was like the older brother you never had, and he was always so sweet to you... That is until you turned sixteen and suddenly, he was way too good for you to hang out with.

You didn't see much of him in the last three years, but you always knew where he was— on the cover of your favourite teen magazine, that soda commercial on TV, fronting promotional material for high-end clothing and expensive mobile phones on social media... All of that made sense. He's the son of modelling royalty, after all. Your childhood friend was the nation's sweetheart now and you're probably just a girl in his boyhood memories.

You didn't bother showing yourself downstairs when the Gojos arrived for your usual dinner date. You couldn't stomach seeing Satoru sitting across from you at the table, his silvery hair and feathery lashes framing his blue, blue eyes, his slender fingers curling around the wine glass that was usually just your mother's and her best friend's... His eyes twinkling in mischief as he calls your name with that voice of his, both so sweet and so sultry...

Why did he push you away back then when he was the one to embrace you first?

That embrace was etched so in your head since you were sixteen, and it was something you always remembered whenever you saw his posts on Instagram, whenever your mother watched his commercials on TV, whenever you've been struggling at high school... And whenever you were alone in your room in your bed— the walls the only thing that could hear you and your thoughts, possibly— as you dove deeper into your inane imagination.

"Toru..."

He wanted you just as much.

...So much that you were crying to yourself, too, thinking of how stupid you were to believe your Aunt Arisu's silly little joke that you were born for her lonely little son to have someone—

The soft knock on your bedroom door was enough to snap you out of your deluded solo flight. You jumped out of your bed without a second thought about how flushed you looked. "I'll be there in a second, mom... Just... a sec!"

Perhaps you should have thought about it first.

"Hey there. Are you... feeling okay?"

Gojo Satoru. As though he stepped right out of your fantasies mere moments ago.

"Uh..."

He wedged his foot on your door as you tried to shut him out in panic. What the hell was he doing here? "Wait a moment. I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

And what could he possibly want to talk about now?

When you turned sixteen, Satoru's father sat him down for a conversation. He was told that you weren't just some girl anymore. That you weren't children anymore and that he needed to be more careful around you. Because you were growing into a woman— And because of that, there were certain things you couldn't do together anymore.

"What are you saying, dear? If Toru likes her, then I'm all for it. That girl is my best friend's daughter and a fine young lady! I wouldn't want anyone else for my boy!"

...And it bothered him. A lot. Because it meant he couldn't hold you anymore. And when he did so once out of habit— because your laughter delighted him so much— he pushed you away so hard that you held back tears. He didn't know what came over him back then, but he stopped coming over to your room afterwards.

Satoru couldn't handle the way you avoided his gaze whenever he was around for your family's shared dinner. He realised you must have been finally done with him tonight when you didn't bother showing up at all even though you were just upstairs in your room.

"...ask Toru to call her downstairs! I haven't seen that girl for quite some time now! Has she been..."

"...with university lately. There's this boy, too. Her classmate, I think..."

The older women's conversation faded in his head the moment your mother mentioned a boy— a classmate— and just how close the two of you have grown while you were in university. Good grief. He couldn't handle it. He couldn't.

You were supposed to be his.

He made his way to your room upstairs, his footsteps as soft and quiet as a cat's, and he was ready to talk to you. About everything. About why the last three years were torment for him. About why his father was right to remind him that you weren't children anymore because children wouldn't think the way he did. About why you shouldn't go out with that guy from your uni—

Satoru heard them. The faintest of whimpers from your bedroom. And if he was right in his head, he seemed to have heard his name, too.

He wasn't going to let go of this.

You opened the door with your face still flushed and your clothes all rumpled and you nearly shut him out if didn't think fast enough. You let go of the door and allowed him inside your room, the sound of the locks unheard because of the rush of blood in your ears.

He's going to take what's his. Without so much of an effort, too, by the way you willingly walked into his arms the moment he opened them to receive you.

[chouettecrivaine]

Ah, Young Love! [Our Life: Now & Forever]

Fandom: Our Life: Now & Forever

Characters: Qiu Lin, Tamarack Baumann

Notes: takes place during Step 1, so he/him is used for Qiu as that is how he identifies at this point in the story!

So anyway I'm obsessed with how everybody wants Qiu but Qiu only has eyes for MC once they meet so I'm thinking about his silly little boyhood crush. And then I couldn't leave best girl Tamarack out of the love fest so here's just a few little things I was thinking about with them having childhood crushes on u <3

Note that only the demo is publicly available and I am not currently a patron so anything here that is proven true is coincidence and anything proven false is just me having a little fun

Qiu Lin

So like. I've seen Qiu call you pretty twice in the demo. Once when you meet him if you choose to call him pretty first, and again towards the end of what's available in the demo when he's listing off reasons why you should be allowed to join the club..

I just think that whenever he talks about you he always has to let it slip that he thinks you're cute. "They had on a really nice hair clip today!" "Their hair looked so cute when they took off their hat at school." "When I picked them up to walk to school, I was so surprised at how pretty they looked!"

When he told his parents about you he probably said "this really pretty kid surprised me in our yard and we went on a miniature adventure!"

Also (and note that my MC uses she/her so im gonna quote him using gendered terms but only for this one instance) When he's introducing you to one of his friends, he starts off with your name and says "she's a girl!" (Or whatever terms you have set)

So I just think he says the most basic facts about you with so much awe and wonder 🥺 like you wore overalls to school? He talks like you invented denim. You had a funny comment or joke? It's like he's never heard one before in his life when he retells it.

I feel like…the first thing that makes him interested in you is that you're new. Not only does this make you fun to mess with, but it makes you far more interesting than the people he's known his whole life. Plus you, unlike Tamarack, don't immediately brush off the cool things he wants to show you or do with you if it isn't immediately your cup of tea.

Darren and Baxter are sick and tired of hearing your name !! If you're not around Qiu wonders aloud at least once if he should or should've invite(d) you. If he did invite you and you had to decline, then he wonders what you're doing.

The type of kid to skip out on his weekend chores at home and go to your house to help you unpack instead

Ok so MC says they used to live in an apartment, right? Probably in the city? And MC was only allowed to play on their own because Golden Grove is "a safe neighborhood?" What if MC doesn't know how to ride a bike. What if Qiu teaches them…

Whether you get a hang of it or not, he daydreams about doing that thing where he rides the bike and you sit backwards on the seat or on the handlebars or something

When he finds out you can't ride a bike, he definitely shows off by riding around without his hands on the handlebars.

Will teach you how to jump off the swing set too, then will have competitions over who can swing the highest and leap the farthest

I feel like Golden Grove has a cute little main street with a bunch of locally owned shops. If you're interested, he'll show you every. single. business. Even if most of them are "granny shops" he isn't interested in. He'll let you poke around for a bit :)

He has a special page in his notebook for all the little notes and doodles about you

If you look closely at the note he gives you after class, you can see the remnants of a few tiny little hearts that he erased!!

Going back to him offering you to ride on his bike: he probably got you in trouble once because you were on your front lawn and he rode up asking you to go on an adventure with him on his bike. You're expecting a fun little 20 min ride through the walkable path in the woods that'll have you back home by dinner. Instead he takes you to town and buys you ice cream and the two of you have to struggle your way back up the hill on foot and it takes like an hour and a half to get back and your mom was worried SICK

Buys a pack of pens with one/some of your favorite color(s) and writes you notes exclusively in that/those ink(s)

If you and your mom go somewhere and he knocks on your door while you're out, you will come home to see him sitting on the steps to your front porch and waiting for you

Before class starts, he always gives you a funny face or a wave. If you come in late because of a doctor's appointment or something, naturally a lot of the kids turn to look at your entrance, and he immediately waves at you. Maybe even says hi to you out loud if he knows Mrs. Murray is in a good mood / he can get away with it.

If he finishes his work early or something, he'll turn around in his seat and just watch you from across the room with major heart eyes. He smiles wider and waves when you notice.

Anything you compliment him on, he immediately draws attention to around others. Say his hair looks good today? He'll hit you with a "oh but not every other day?" but then tell his seatmates about what you said.

Buys extra portions of his little snack bags of chips and candy or whatever he likes when he can so that he can give them to you during lunch.

Gets on a kick and will pester you about having a secret handshake until you let him come up with one. He likes having special things just you and him 🥺

Probably invites you to his hideout at a specific time and day every week and he gets soooooo excited for that time to roll around.

Tries extra hard in your favorite subject, even if it's one he hates. He's not trying to be top of the class, but he doesn't want you to think he doesn't care about something you care about!

If you like a class he's terrible at, he'll ask for your help! Or, if you struggle in a class he's good at, he'll volunteer to help you out even though he HATES the concept of doing extra schoolwork. That's how much he likes u

He'll do this with any windows but especially if one of your bedroom windows faces his: he will definitely pull a Taylor Swift in "You Belong With Me" and write notes for you guys to read to each other

Since he can't sit with you, he'll write you notes or make you doodles and then pretend he has to get up to sharpen his pencil so he can pass your desk and slip it to you

Tamarack Baumann

Tamarack will straight up just stare at you 👁👁

She follows you around like a lost puppy and visibly brightens up when you're around

Looks forward to school because she gets to sit next to you all day! Like she'll skip happily along the path with you and Qiu and you'll ask her if she's looking forward to all these things and she'll just go "No!" and when you finally give up and ask why she says "because I get to spend the whole day next to you!"

When she goes to play in the woods, sometimes she'll spend a while in the shallower end of the tree line waiting to see if you'll come outside and play with her

Has definitely thrown sticks and pebbles at your back door to lure you out before she gets bored

Likes to go around and pick up the coolest rock, the prettiest flower, the biggest piece of tree bark, a leaf the size of her head…then before she goes home for the night, she stops by your house and gives what she picked up to you!!

If you're not home then she leaves it on your porch with a note, usually held down by a rock if it's not something heavy 

She'll be over the moon if you give her cool rocks and stuff you found. Even if you're literally giving her trash, like if you ONLY give her bottle caps or pop tabs you find on the sidewalk, she cherishes them. Would make jewelry out of them tbh

Ok so quick tangent but there's a book I read in about 4th grade called Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli, and in it the love interest girl is the quirky type. One thing she has is a little decorative cart on her dresser which she puts rocks in every time she's happy and takes rocks out when she's sad. When the protag goes to her house and finds out, she explains how she has put the most rocks in it since meeting him. They kiss sometime after that and she puts another rock in and tells him about it. I think Tamarack would have a jar or a doll house bathtub and she would do the same thing, putting rocks in it when she's happy! So what I'm saying is give her plenty of rocks so she can exclusively use MC rocks for that 

Also will make matching jewelry for the two of you without even stopping to think if you even wear what she's making. She'll buy kits to make special rings and headbands, braid a million friendship bracelets out of multicolored string, use acorns she found to make earrings…anything! She is just as happy if you wear it then she is if you buy a jewelry display stand and show them off in your room. Eventually she adds keychains into the mix for some variety

Doesn't mean to spend a lot of her time waiting on you but she does. On weekends, instead of going directly into the woods, she'll just lie on her back in her yard and stare up at the clouds, completely still, daydreaming (about you) until she hears your door opening. Then she runs to you.

If any of your windows are open, particularly your bedroom window, she'll send a bunch of paper airplanes your way. Most of them make it! However, you've learned that if you find even one paper airplane inside, you're going to have to check that side of the house for more scattered on the ground

Grips onto your arms or your clothes whenever she can. You two are connected.

Makes a BIG effort to like anything that you like as much as you do! And when she follows you around, it doesn't really matter if you're doing something she doesn't care about. She just wants to spend time with you! It does make her whole week if you follow her into the woods, though.

She doesn't take notes in class, but you leave a writing implement out for her and sometimes she'll reach over and doodle a cute bear or something on your paper :)

If you say you're cold, she'll give you her scarf, no questions asked. Is also down to share but don't let her do that while you're walking because it WILL end badly 

Has wrapped the scarf around the two of you and tied you guys together before and yes it was the best recess of her life 

When walking, she tends to lean into you which sometimes almost turns into pushing you and Qiu into the road if you're not careful

Likes to drag you around places and pretty quickly invites you to her house. She doesn't tell her grandparents that she's inviting you over, so they're surprised by you almost every time, but they don't mind! She's dragging you up the stairs to her room too quickly for them to say anything anyway

[libraryofloveletters]

You Snooze, You Lose

John Stones x Reader

Warnings: childhood friends, losing touch, all the boys are so annoying, John is lowkey butthurt, a lot of assuming is happening, mentions of kidnapping, so many emotions, unspoken feelings and regrets, kyle is chief meddler, a little sexual humour, some friendly teasing, jack's love of gucci, divorce, alcohol and the consumption of.

Word Count: 3.9k

Author's Note: this is sooo self indulgent, shout out to pookie who helped me plot this <3 @themandaloriansdiaries

---

Childhood friends; a story as old as time..

Everyone knows how it ends, it either works out or it doesn't. You stay friends forever and live happily ever after or you love and you lose, you move on and they stay a chapter in the story of your life.

That's what John Stones was for you.

Your best friend from the age of 9 until you turned 19. The boy across the street, the one that walked you to school, the one you joined at practice, cheering him on from the stands at games.

While you had been focused on making it through school, John's interests were elsewhere. Football was all he thought of, a ball by his feet 24/7. He joined his boyhood club, Barnsley, and worked his way up until he signed for them in 2011. You still remember his debut, the sense of pride and joy you felt was incomparable to anything else in your life.

After a year of playing for the first team at Barnsley, he was off to Everton. John moved, of course, making it easier for him to be with the team. He still returned home but you saw less and less of each other.

By the time he was 22, he was signed to Manchester City and that was the end of the two of you, or rather whatever was left of your friendship.

Granted you were very proud of him and all he achieved, but it still hurt you to lose your best friend. It wasn't 22 year old y/n that was losing her best friend but 9 year old y/n who used to sit in the stands and watch him practice for hours on end.

There wasn't much you saw of John after that. Maybe a hello in passing if you saw him when he returned home to see his family but it became less and less frequent, until all you had left was seeing his face on tv.

8 years, that's how long it's been since you've seen John. Time flies when you've both moved on with your lives.

You find yourself in Manchester, rainy and grey as always but a familiar feeling of coldness reminds you of home.

The jewellers assured you that your ring would be ready in a week and you'd be back then to pick it up. Half past 3 and you've got time until you need to head to the station to get your train home so what better way to spend the time then to shop?

You find your way through the busy streets and into the shops, picking out a few odds and ends for the house, shopping basket on your arm as you make your way through the store.

A text had your focus, trying to keep in your corner as you walked and texted at the same time. You hadn't even noticed as you were walking straight into someone until you hit them. It felt as if you walked into a brick wall, the person was solid to say the least.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," you say to the person, bending down to pick up your phone before they turn to see who's walked into them.

"Watch where you're going- y/n?" The voice sounds familiar, you think to yourself. How did they know your name?

You look up as you stand up, it takes you only a second to realize who's in front of you. "Johnny," you smiled, the nickname rolling off your tongue as it did many years ago.

"How are you?" The man asks, pulling you into a hug. You felt yourself relax, the feeling of his arms around you reminded you of home in the best way possible.

You take a step back, "I'm good, how are you?"

"Can't complain," he smiled, blue eyes twinkling under the horrendous fluorescent lights. "What brings you all the way to Manchester?"

"You say that as if Manchester is in a whole other part of the planet," you laughed. "But I came to the jewellers to get my ring fixed and I had some time before my train so I decided to do some shopping."

John nods, glancing at his watch. "It's half 5 now, most of the trains are gone by now, no?"

Your eyes widened a bit, "you're joking." Checking your own phone to see he was in fact right, it was half 5 and the last train to Barnsley just left. "Oh shit."

"How are you gonna get home then?" He asks and you shrug. "I'll probably take an Uber."

"No," he shakes his head. "I can't let you do that. I'll take you home."

It's your turn to shake your head. "Well I can't let you do that."

"Why not?" His brows furrowed, making you smile. "You've probably got things to do, big footballer like yourself." You joked.

John rolled his eyes playfully. "Shut up. It's fine. I'll take you home, I can't let you take an Uber, you're too pretty. What if the Uber driver decides to kidnap you? I won't forgive myself, you know."

You can't help but laugh, obnoxiously loud as well. Your hand covers your mouth, giggling behind it as you often did as a child. The action brings back fond memories for John. He smiles at you, his heart warm and fuzzy in his chest.

"What if you tried to kidnap me? I haven't seen you in years, I don't know what you do in your spare time now."

He chuckles, crossing over his heart with his finger. "I promise I'm not a kidnapper, you can call my mum and confirm."

"Fine," you tell him. "You're certain I'm not putting you out by accepting?"

"100 percent," he takes your basket from you, putting it into his shopping cart, pushing it down the aisle as you follow him. "I didn't even ask, where do you live?"

"Barnsley."

John stops and turns around to look at you. "Seriously? You never moved?"

"I mean I don't live in my parents' house anymore but yes, seriously." You laughed, nudging his jaw back around so he can watch where he's going.

The two of you cash out, John insists on paying for your stuff even though you tell him it's fine. He says okay but then removes the little separator between your stuff and his, putting it together without you noticing. You roll your eyes at his childishness, thanking him regardless. Ever the gentleman, leading you back to the car and carrying the bags before opening the door for you.

Certainly his car is worth more than your house but you got in, sitting quietly as he drove towards Barnsley.

The music plays in the background as he drives. "How come you never moved? From Barnsley?"

"It's home," you tell him, "plus not all of us become big footballers that can afford mega mansions."

John laughs, glancing over at you to see the smile on your face. "Speaking of footballers, I saw your last game. You were good."

"Just good?" he teased and you nod. "Mhm hm. You know me, I've always been more of a Liverpool girl."

"Ew," he makes a face, you can't help but laugh; something you did often in his presence. The short time you two had been back together made you feel like a child again.

Sometimes you still couldn't wrap your head around it. John, your John, the little blond boy from across the street was a professional footballer, and a damn good one at that. Playing for a treble winning team and for England, John was living his childhood dream and you couldn't be more proud of your best friend.

If you could even call him that anymore.

It was a short drive once he got off the exit, you directed him to your place. You lived 10 minutes away from your parents, you two used to walk these streets as kids, it was home after all.

John pulled into the driveway, his car looking out of place compared to the neighbourhood but he got out, taking your bags out of the trunk for you.

There's a man coming out of the house, putting his coat on and fishing his car keys out of his pocket as you get out of John's car. "Thank you for preventing my maybe kidnapping," you tell John, taking the bags from him.

He glances at the man and then back to you. "Yeah," he smiles, "anytime." He reaches for his phone, handing it to you. "Give me your number, so we can stay in touch."

You put your number in, telling him to text you so you could save his number. "Don't be a stranger," you say as he pulls you into a hug. "Even footballers have friends."

John laughs, a big smile on his face. "I know, I promise to text."

"Thank you again, for everything."

"Anything for an old friend."

You smile, "bye Johnny."

"Bye y/n."

John gets back into his car, watching as you walk up the driveway to the man who was by the front door. He doesn't pull off, but instead watches the interaction between the two of you. The man on the porch kisses your cheek before walking down to the driveway.

It takes John a moment to connect the dots; the ring at the jewellers, the house that looked like it was a happy home, the man on the porch, the kiss on the cheek.

You were married.

John's heart feels like it's been broken again, in a whirlwind of emotions; disbelief, regret, and a sense of longing. The realization stings of missed opportunities and unspoken words. Every laugh shared, every whisper, every stolen glance filled with love, every memory cherished now carried a bittersweet feeling.

The knowledge that he never confessed his love. It was unknown to you but John had always thought of you as his.

You were his y/n, his best friend, his girl.

No matter how much he tried to move on, despite the two of you never being more than friends, there was no woman compared to you. That's a horrible way to live, he can hear Kyle's words in his head, his teammate telling him he's got to get on with his life.

But how could he move on knowing you were still out there? All but a phone call away and yet he never reached out. He moved on with his life, achieving all he hoped, all but one thing.

He moved on and so did you. No one's to blame but himself.

--

Kyle finds his teammate picking at his lunch, pushing the pieces of chicken around his plate with the fork. "Didn't your mum teach you it's rude to play with your food?" He says, glancing at the younger player.

John rolls his eyes in response. "Oh, we're moody today." Kyle takes a sip of his juice. "What's going on?"

"I saw y/n last week." John mumbles, staring at his half eaten lunch.

Kyle nearly spits out his juice and hits John in the face. "Y/n? As in.. your y/n?"

"Bumped into her at the store and took her home."

"What's the issue, mate? You took her home and what? The sex was that bad? I guess years of pining will do that to a guy."

"Shut up," John groans at his friend's crudeness. "We didn't have sex, you jackass. She's married."

"Oh," Kyle makes a face, and it's as if John can see the gears turning in his friend's head. He knows whatever is to come out of Kyle's mouth next is going to be ridiculous.

"Well, do you want me to beat up her husband? You can run in and save him, you'll look like the hero and she'll fall in love with you and leave her husband."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life," John chuckles, "but no."

Kyle shrugs, taking a piece of chicken off of John's plate and eats it. "I offered a solution and you don't want it. You can't beat yourself up over her being married. You snooze, you lose, Johnny boy."

"Have I ever told you how unhelpful you are?"

"All the time," Kyle smiles. John's phone buzzes on the table, the man glances over to see who it is. "Who is it? Is it her?" Kyle asks, sticking his head over to see who texted John.

He pushes Kyle's head away and reads the message.

To John: Hi Johnny, you're invited to dinner on Sunday.

To John: Well I'm inviting you now. Sunday at mine at 6pm, or anytime after that? Does that work for you?

"Say yes," Kyle tells him before he can even think what to reply. John shakes his head, "I don't want to have dinner with her and her husband."

"What if I beat him-" "Shut up, that's not an option."

Kyle rolls his eyes, taking the phone from John and replying before he could stop him.

From John: Hi y/n, thank you for the invite, 6 works great for me. Can I bring anything?

"What did you do?" John tries to get his phone back from Kyle but he runs over to the other table where Jack and Erling were sitting.

To John: Just your pretty face ;)

"Why would you do that, you idiot?" John smacks Kyle's arm, taking his phone back. "This is going to be the most awkward dinner of my life."

Jack turns to see John and Kyle fighting. "What's going on?"

"Johnny boy's got dinner with a married woman." Kyle says, telling everyone John's business. Erling makes a face. "A married woman? Is that like.. a kink for you?"

"No!" John groans, putting his phone into his pocket. "She's a friend that happens to be married. It's not what Kyle made it seem like." He glares at his friend, Kyle shrugs.

Jack asks the important question. "What are you going to wear? Do you want to borrow one of my Gucci shirts?"

"I'd rather not look ugly," John says, making Jack roll his eyes. "Opposed to.. you looking like yourself? So just double ugly?"

He huffs, "I'll wear something I have. It's only dinner."

"If you say so," Jack makes a face, clearly disapproving of John's fashion choices.

John grumbles as he walks off, "I hate all of you."

--

The days pass and John finds himself at your front door, heart beating out of his chest with nerves. He didn't want to have dinner with you and your husband. He wanted to turn back, to get into his car and leave.

He can't.

John's done scarier things, he's played matches that sent him into a spiral and yet, he's alive and well. One evening won't kill him.

It'll be in and out; dinner, small talk and then he'll leave with the excuse of an early training session.

He knocks, his palms sweaty. They take turns holding the bottle of wine as he wipes his palms on his jeans. The door opens, you're standing there with your hair over your shoulders and a big smile on your face.

"You made it," you stepped aside, "come in."

"I'm so sorry I'm late," he says as he walks in, noticing your bare feet he takes his shoes off. "I had a match and then we had the debrief and then I went home to shower, lost track of time and got stuck in traffic."

"Don't even worry about it," you tell him, shutting the door. John passes the bottle of wine over to you, "for you."

"I told you, you didn't need to fuss and bring anything." You accept the bottle with a smile regardless.

"It's no trouble, plus it's rude to show up empty handed." He says, watching as you walk to the kitchen. "Make yourself at home," you called out to him and John took that as his sign to poke around a bit.

He sticks his head into the living room, no sign of the husband. It's warm, homely. A couch against the back wall, tv by the window, fireplace along another wall. You've got photo frames hanging, some as decorations, some with actual photos.

There are three photos hung on the wall in the hallway, he stops to admire them. The middle frame had a little boy holding a baby wrapped up in a lavender blanket and the other two were what seemed to be school photos. The boy on the left and the girl on the right.

You peek out of the kitchen to see John looking at the photos. "Cute kids," he says. "Yours?"

Shrugging, you walk over to him. "Bought the house and they were on the wall, it seemed wrong to take them down."

"Oh," he makes a face, unsure what to say and you laugh, resting your hand on his bicep. "I'm kidding, they're mine. This is Sebastian," you point to your son and then your daughter. "This is Sophia."

"They're cute, they look like you."

"Genes are strong, Stonesy. Just like yours." You say, making him laugh. He nods as he knows what you meant. He and his sister were the same person, different genders.

"How old are they?" John asks while he follows you into the kitchen.

"Seb is 7 and Soph is 4."

"It's quiet, you'd think it'd be loud with little ones. Are they not home?"

"No," you handed him a glass of wine. "They're at their dad's for the weekend."

"Oh," John says, taking a sip of his wine. "You're not married?"

You make a face, one of disgust rather as you turned to your friend. "God no, ew. Why would you think that?"

John laughs at your face. "I just thought.. you said you had to get your ring fixed so I assumed your wedding ring."

"It's my blue one, the one you gave me for my birthday before you left for Everton." You tell him, checking on the roast in the oven.

John thinks back, he did gift you a ring for your 18th birthday, it was a few months before he signed for Everton. He thought it'd be a nice thing to give you, 18 was a big birthday plus he was officially making big boy money, not as much as he made now, but more than enough that he could afford to buy his best friend a nice gift for her birthday.

"I can't believe you still have that."

"Well I thought about pawning it off but the guy said he'd only give two pounds, so I figured I'd keep it. Sentimental value or something like that." You joked, John rolled his eyes at your words playfully.

"Yeah, yeah. Is there anything I can help with? I feel bad sitting around."

"Take the roast out of the oven? The pan is unnecessarily heavy." You set the plates on the table and John looks at you while walking to the oven. "You made a roast?"

"Well it's Sunday, isn't it?"

John nods, "it is. I haven't had a proper one in years, like actually sitting at the table and eating it. It's always left overs from mum because I had other stuff to do."

"It's so depressing," you chuckled. "Wait, I didn't even ask, can you eat this? Aren't you on some super footballer diet or something?"

"It's fine," he tells you, carrying the pan to the table. "One night won't kill me."

Dinner was quiet, the two of you chatted and caught up on as much as you can about the last 8 years. You talked about family, yours and his, he told you stories of his teammates and shared little memories he cherished from your childhood, you told him about your kids and how they drive you mad everyday.

It was nice, it was the grown up version of eating Chinese take out at 3am in the kitchen as teens.

You find yourself on the couch, each of you with a glass of wine and the almost empty bottle on the coffee table.

"I wonder, since you thought I was married, are you hiding a relationship?" You asked, finishing off your glass before setting it on the table. "Am I going to see myself in a headline somewhere? John Stones spotted cheating on wife with mystery woman." You both laughed at the made up headline.

"No," he shook his head. "I'm single, no need to worry." He mirrored your action and set the empty glass on the table before leaning back into the couch. "But if I can ask, what happened between you and your.. husband? Were you married ?"

"I was," you nodded. "We thought we could make it work but between work and the kids, we have no time for each other and we were miserable, even when we were together. It wasn't good for us nor was it good for the kids. So instead of the kids having one unhappy home, we decided to call it quits and let them have two happy homes."

"That's very mature of you both."

"I'd like to think so." You smiled. "What about you? How come you're single? You're young and handsome and talented."

"You think I'm handsome?" He raised an eyebrow. You roll your eyes, laughing as you smack his arm lightly. "Shut up, you know what I meant."

"Well, I never moved on.. from someone in the past."

"Oh.. someone broke your heart?" You shifted to face him fully. "Tell me everything."

John smiles, some things never change. "Sorta, I mean, not really. It was a long time ago and when I left home, I left her behind and I regret that. I shouldn't have left like that, we should have figured something out. I should have reached out but I didn't. I think I wasn't sure how to, so I never did.''

You nod, thinking. You understood what he meant but you were trying to figure out who he was talking about so you started naming off the girls he used to see while he was living in Barnsley and Liverpool.

"It's none of them," he says, smiling at your effort.

"So who is it?" You asked, brows furrowed. "I know all your exes."

John smiles at you, the twinkle in his eyes as he looked at you was a dead give away, and it hits you like a freight train. "It's.. me?" You look at him, your cheeks bright red when he nods.

It reminds him of when you two were younger, the two of you giggling until you're out of breath and red in the face.

"So pretty," he whispers, going to pinch your cheek. "Shut up," you mumble, swatting his hand away. John smiles, hand cupping your cheek.

A hand wraps around his wrist, the two of you looking at each other. In that moment, years of unspoken words hung in the air. Without a single word said, they both knew what the other was feeling - a feeling that had been buried deep within you both for so long.

With a soft smile, John leaned in, closing the gap between you. Your lips met in a kiss, pulling you into him. As they sat on the couch, still intertwined, John and y/n felt a sense of peace wash over them.

It was as if the weight of years of unspoken emotions had finally been lifted off their shoulders.

John's forehead pressed to yours, "do you know how long I've been waiting to do that?"

"Do you know how long I've been waiting for you to do that?" You giggled, kissing him once more.

--

tags: @thesnailus @alwaysclassyeagle @mehrmonga @callsignvenus @kmc1989 @ironmaiden1313 @muglermami

reply/send an ask to be added to my football taglist!

[chelseachilly]

tired of loving from afar

pairing: mason mount x reader warnings: none, mostly fluff with a tiny bit of angst! word count: 5.3k

a/n: not me writing for someone other than ben lmao?? been really in my mase feels lately so here's a fluffy little long distance relationship fic (also was very happy to read this morning that he's likely going to be back after the international break! my heart has been hurting for him this season 🥺) have a great weekend loves 💓

-

Of the three years you’ve been with Mason, the past six months have been the hardest by far. 

You’d overcome other hurdles in your relationship, like adjusting to the exposure and demanding schedule of a professional footballer, learning to cope with your life being somewhat public and thousands of girls being in love with your boyfriend. None of this was nearly as challenging as having to adjust to him living 200 miles away from you. 

His move to Manchester was bittersweet - you were so proud of him for getting a spot at such a massive club and finally receiving the appreciation and recognition he deserves. You knew he was happy to have a fresh start and a chance to prove himself as a player. 

At the same time, it was incredibly emotional for him to leave his boyhood club, his friends, his family, and you all at the same time. You would’ve given anything to go with him, even if it meant leaving your own friends and family in London, but you were about to start your final year of uni there. You couldn’t just pack up and go, no matter how much you wanted to do so.

You’re passionate about your studies, and you knew it would all be worth it when you graduate and get a job in your chosen field - and in the same city as the man you love. You knew it was only a year.

That didn’t make it any easier to say goodbye.

You’ve both made a massive effort to see each other as much as humanly possible, going up to Manchester every time you have a break from classes or a weekend without an exam or assignment due. Mason has also come back to London any time he gets the chance, sometimes flying out just to see you for the day. You’ve been making it work, but it’s not nearly the same as living in the same house as him. Even when you were both super busy, you at least got to see each other when you woke up and before bed, and now all you have are texts and FaceTime calls. 

On a night like tonight, when you’re exhausted from the week and you just want to be wrapped in his arms watching a film, FaceTime really feels like a poor replacement for the real thing. 

“Hi, gorgeous,” Mason says, a sleepy smile on his face as he answers your call. “How was your day?”

“Hey, Mase,” you say, curling up with a blanket and admiring his face in the soft glow of his bedroom lamp. Judging by the fact that he’s in bed by quarter to nine, you figure he’s as worn out as you are. “It was okay, felt long. I finally turned in my essay, though.”

“Good work, babe, I’m sure you aced it like always.” 

You blush a little, never growing tired of how he takes every opportunity to praise your intelligence. Any time someone asks about your studies, he does a full spiel about how smart you are.

“We’ll see,” you say. “How was your day, love? Any updates at physio?”

The way his smile instantly fades makes your heart drop to your stomach, fearing the worst.

“Yeah, um-it’s looking like a bit longer,” Mason says, and you can tell he’s trying to keep his voice steady so you don’t worry too much. “Maybe another few weeks. They’re not sure.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you sigh. “I’m sorry. I know how frustrating this is.”

The hardest part about being away from Mason has unquestionably been watching him struggle from afar without being able to properly support him. From the rocky start to the season, to being out due to injuries basically ever since, it’s been torture not being there for him. 

You went up straight away when he first injured his calf in November, needing to both emotionally and physically care for him, but you couldn’t stay long before your exams started. Since then, you’ve done your best to help from London - sending him care packages, calling him as much as your schedule allows, asking Luke and Anouska to keep an eye on him and let you know how he’s holding up. 

In moments like these, though, what you really need is to hug him and tell him everything is going to be alright. 

“Yeah, it’s a bit tough,” Mason admits, fiddling with his hoodie string. “But at least I’m back in partial training, it could be worse. I could’ve done my ACL or something, you know? I’ve been pretty lucky in my career so far.”

One of the many things you love about him is his infectious optimism, how he always sees the best in situations and in people. 

Right now, though, you’re not sure you fully believe the words leaving his mouth. He looks so disheartened and downtrodden. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask, frowning. “I know it’s not the news you’re expecting, you’re allowed to be disappointed.”

“I’ll be fine, angel, don’t worry about me,” Mason reassures you. “Just missing you a little extra today.” 

“Me too,” you murmur, touching the screen and wishing it were his face. “I’m sorry I can’t make it up this weekend, but this group assignment-“

“Don’t apologize, baby, I know how busy you are this term,” Mason cuts you off, just as he always does when you try to apologize for being so far away. 

You do the same to him when he tries to say he’s sorry for uprooting your life together, for not being there when you’re stressed about school or just having a bad day. Truthfully, neither of you are at fault, it’s just life. But it still sucks sometimes. 

“We’ll see each other in a few weeks when I have my reading break,” you remind him. “Just a while longer.”

“I know, I’m counting down the minutes,” Mason smiles. 

You talk for a little while longer before you reluctantly have to go so you can get ready for bed, and you promise to call him again tomorrow night. 

The sad look on his face when you say goodnight lingers in your mind as you shower and do your skincare routine, and by the time you climb into bed, you’ve made a decision.

First, you message your group for the assignment you’re working on and ask if you can push your planned meeting to Monday rather than Saturday. Next, you text Luke and ask him to make sure Mason doesn’t have plans tomorrow night.

Lastly, you book a train to Manchester, because you��ll be damned if you don’t go cheer up your man when he needs you.

-

The moment you arrive at the train station in Manchester the next day, you hop in an Uber and make your way straight to Mason’s.

You know that he’s still at training and will be for at least another hour or so, as you’ve been texting Luke for updates so Mason doesn’t get suspicious. It’s not unusual for you to ask how his day is going, but you don’t typically ask for the exact time he plans on leaving Carrington or instruct him to go straight home after training.

Using the key that Mason gave you when he moved in, insisting that it was still your home even if you don’t live there the majority of the time, you let yourself into his house.

You drop your bags and immediately get to work on creating the perfect cozy, romantic Friday night in.

By the time you get the text from Luke that he’s on his way back with Mason, having devised a fake plan of coming over to play FIFA after training to ensure Mason didn’t make other plans, you’re just finishing up.

You’ve successfully transformed his house, which he bought furnished and has put very little effort into making homey, into a much more welcoming environment. 

You ordered flowers for the kitchen table, as well as enough groceries to make dinner for him tonight and to replenish his far too empty fridge. You did a bit of tidying, deciding to do a few loads of laundry for him when you noticed there was quite a pile forming, and it must have been a week or so since the cleaning service he pays for came. 

You put some soft music on his speakers and lit a few candles in the kitchen as well, popping a bottle of white wine into the fridge so it’s ready for your dinner. 

You’ve just started chopping a few veggies to get a head start on dinner when you hear the sound of the front door opening followed by distant voices, one of which you immediately recognize as Mason.

“Do you hear that music?” 

The sound of your boyfriend’s voice after weeks apart fills your stomach with butterflies - you’re just as giddy to see him as you were in your early days of dating. 

“Probably the neighbours, mate,” Luke responds, still playing along with your ruse. 

“I don’t think-“

Finally, the guys turn the corner into the kitchen, and you see Mason come into view with Luke trailing behind him. His eyes widen in surprise for a moment, slightly startled by there being someone in his house, and then he realizes it’s you and his mouth falls open in shock.

“Surprise,” you say shyly, while Mason is still at a loss for words. 

He immediately drops his training bag to the floor and makes a beeline for you, pulling you into a tight hug and lifting you off your feet before you can even hug him back properly. 

You relax into his arms right away, squeezing him just as tightly as he’s squeezing you and breathing in the familiar scent of his soap and aftershave, freshly showered after training. It’s the same scent that lingers on the t-shirts and hoodies that you steal from him every time you come up, wearing them until you regrettably have to put them through the wash. 

“Baby,” Mason mumbles into your neck, pressing little kisses there. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I’m here,” you confirm, wrapping your legs around his waist as he refuses to set you down or let you go. “I missed you way too much to wait another three weeks.”

He pulls back far enough to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, his hands sliding down to your thighs to support your weight as you kiss him back. You can feel the pieces of your world shifting back into place, your heart settling in your chest as you sink into his warmth.

Mason presses a few more quick pecks to your lips before reluctantly setting you down, arms still wrapped around you. It’s only then that you realize Luke is still here, shuffling awkwardly in the corner. 

“Thanks for your help, Luke,” you say with a shy smile, moving to Mason’s side. 

“Of course, the man never shuts up about how much he misses you, so it’s really a favour for me as well,” Luke jokes. “I’ll leave you guys. Enjoy your evening.”

“Thanks, mate,” Mason says with an eye roll and a grin before turning his attention back to you, pressing kisses to your head. 

“Night, Luke! Give my love to Anouska and the kids,” you call out, though you’ve also turned back to face Mason and bury your face in his chest. 

You remain in each other’s arms, just holding one another and breathing in and out for a minute or two. 

You knew you missed him, but you don’t think you realized quite how much until right now. It’s taken such a toll on both of you being apart for so long.

“How long are you staying?” Mason asks quietly, almost like he’s afraid of the answer, as he lightly rubs your lower back. 

“Until Monday morning,” you say. You wish it were longer, but three nights together is the best you’ve gotten in a long time. 

“Really?” Mason asks, pulling back and looking at you with bright eyes. “I thought you had to do your group assignment tomorrow?” 

“I pushed it to Monday, I had to come see you after we spoke last night.”

You reach up to cup Mason’s face with one hand, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb. Judging by the way he’s avoiding eye contact with you, you know you were right to come. He’s obviously been struggling with the disappointment of the never-ending injuries, all the uncertainty it’s brought. 

“I’m okay,” he says softly, turning his face to press a kiss to your palm. “Now that you’re here, everything’s okay.”

You melt at his gentle words, but they don’t do much to ease your worries about his emotional wellbeing. 

Mason gives you a quick peck on the forehead before looking around the room, noticing the food you’re preparing and the cozy, romantic vibe you created for your evening. 

“What’s all this?” he asks, a small smile on his face. 

You’re not keen to drop the subject, but you don’t want to ruin your rare weekend together by bombarding him with questions either. You know he’ll talk about it when he’s ready. 

“I just ordered some food for dinner and restocked your fridge a bit,” you explain. “I figured you would be happy to stay in tonight, so I got stuff to make your favourite pasta.”

Before he can respond, the dryer beeps, signalling that the load is done. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Are you doing laundry?”

“I just threw a couple loads of your clothes in, I noticed you were running behind,” you shrug. 

Mason looks at you with complete awe, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he says softly. “You being here is enough. It’s more than enough.”

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck once more. 

“I know, but I wanted tonight to be perfect and relaxing,” you explain, pecking his lips. “No stressing about football or school or anything else. Just you and me.”

“You’re amazing, Y/N,” Mason sighs, squeezing your waist. “Can I help you cook?”

“No, but you can pour us both a glass of wine from the bottle in the fridge and sit down and tell me about your day,” you smile, kissing him one more time before pulling away to return to your meal preparations. 

Mason does as told, sneaking another few kisses when he brings you over your glass, then sitting at one of the stools at the kitchen island.

You treasure this domesticity more than almost anything with him - the simple act of chatting about your days while making dinner is something you’ve missed terribly.

When the pasta is ready, you dish it out into two bowls and bring them over to the table. 

“God, I missed your cooking,” Mason grins as he dives into his portion, obviously starving after a day of training. “It’s delicious, babe.”

“Thanks, Mase,” you reply, pouring yourself a little bit more wine. “You want some more?”

“Might as well, it’s not like I’m playing tomorrow,” Mason says, the offhand comment hurting your heart much more than he intended. 

He’s still smiling at you as you pour his drink, but you don’t believe for a second that it’s real. 

“Do you want to go tomorrow?” you ask after a minute of silence while you both eat. “I know you usually go to the home games, right?”

Mason shrugs. “Yeah, we can if you want.”

Once again, you don’t press him further, listening as he changes the subject and starts updating you on Ben’s latest girl troubles. 

After you’ve finished and cleaned up, you head into the living room to catch up on the new episodes of Drive to Survive. You always save your favourite shows for when you’re together, sometimes dodging spoilers for weeks just so you can enjoy it properly with Mason.

The moment you sit down on the couch, Mason pulls you into his arms for the first real cuddle you’ve had in weeks. You very contently lean into him, resting your head on his chest and humming in delight as Mason slides his hand under your hoodie and begins to gently stroke your lower back. It’s not with the intention of anything sexual, though you’re sure that will come later, it’s just an innate need to be as close to you as possible. 

It’s the most relaxed you’ve felt since he left your flat in London three weeks ago, your body and mind decompressing with every moment spent in his arms. 

A few hours pass, and you can feel yourself growing tired, but you’re enjoying Mason’s commentary on the Alpine rivalry far too much to interrupt and suggest you go to bed. Your yawns are betraying you, though, and Mason begins to gently run his hand through your hair.

“You ready for bed, sweetheart?” he asks softly, kissing your forehead. 

“It’s so early,” you murmur as you glance at the time on your phone, barely past 9PM, yet you can’t contain another small yawn which makes Mason chuckle. “Sorry, I guess I’m tired out from the week.”

“No worries, we have the whole weekend,” Mason smiles. “Honestly, I’m a bit worn out too. Wanna go upstairs and I’ll get us some water?”

You nod as he stands and helps you to your feet, pressing one more gentle kiss to your forehead before heading into the kitchen. You make your way up the stairs to his bedroom and head into his ensuite bathroom. 

It occurs to you as you’re flicking the light on that you forgot to grab your toiletry bag from your suitcase in his room, and you’re just about to turn back for it when something catches your eye. On one of the shelves above the toilet, there’s an array of products that wasn’t here last time you visited. More specifically, there’s a version of just about every hair and skincare product you use on a regular basis, and you really doubt that Mason has taken up doing hair treatments or using Drunk Elephant serums.

Maybe it shouldn’t mean as much to you as it does - he’s always been thoughtful, and you know the expense of buying all this is nothing to him - but for some reason, the simple gesture nearly brings you to tears. 

Mason appears in the doorway a moment later, smiling softly at you.

“You okay, love?” 

“When did you buy all this stuff?” you ask, gesturing to the shelf. 

“Oh, uh, a couple days after the last time I came to London,” Mason says casually. “I took pictures of everything in your bathroom to make sure I got the right stuff, I just wanted to make it easier for you when you visit.”

As you look into his soft, sincere gaze, your love for him feels more overwhelming than ever. 

Which means your guilt does, too. 

“Mase, I’m so sorry I haven’t been up to visit more lately,” you say, your voice unsteady. “I know you’ve been struggling, and I know you’ve been keeping a lot of it from me because I’m busy with uni, but you’re my priority and I should’ve-“

“Hey,” Mason says gently, interrupting you with a hand reaching up to cup your cheek. “Don’t ever apologize for focusing on your studies. I know how hard you’ve been working, and I’m so proud of you. You don’t need to worry about me, I’m gonna be fine.”

“It’s not fine,” you shake your head, tears now streaming down your face. “You’ve always been there for me, and now you’re in a new city and a new club and you’ve been dealing with injuries and I’m all the way across the country.”

“Y/N, we knew this would be hard, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t,” Mason says, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. “But it’s not your fault I moved clubs while you still had a degree to finish, or that I’ve had a tough season. Some things are out of our control.”

You know he’s right, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Hearing his sad, defeated voice on the phone after a disappointing medical assessment or bad game and not being able to hold him has been one of the hardest things you’ve ever done.

“I just worry about you being here all alone,” you say quietly. “I know you have your teammates and you spend a lot of time with Luke, but in London you had me and all your friends and your family was closer and - I just hate that I’m not with you.”

“You’re here right now,” Mason says, pressing his forehead to yours for a moment. “You dropped everything to come see me today, babe. You have no idea how much that meant.”

“I would do it every weekend if I could.”

“I know,” he says with a sad smile. “And I would leave all of this and spend my time helping you study and supporting you if I could, but this is our reality for a little while longer, angel.”

You sigh, nodding in agreement and staring into his big brown eyes that bring you so much comfort. 

“I’ve just missed you so much,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a tight hug. 

His own arms circle your waist and tug you impossibly closer, his nose buried in your hair so he can breathe you in.

“I know, baby, I’ve missed you too,” he exhales. “So, so much.”

You hold him for a while longer, cherishing every brush of his hand against your back and every kiss he presses to your temple. You want to memorize the feeling of his touch, so when you’re back in your bed in London a few days from now you can close your eyes and try to imagine you’re still in his arms.

After a few minutes, you break apart to finish preparing for bed. You brush your teeth together then go through your skincare routine while Mason watches fondly, letting you put some moisturizer on him when you’re done with it. Then he strips down to just his boxers, teasing you lovingly when you obviously check him out, and passes you a comfy t-shirt from his drawer to change into. You make a mental note to fill up your suitcase with a few of his hoodies before you leave - the ones you have at home no longer smell like him. 

You climb into the bed together, noticing that the side you usually sleep on has all of its pillows in place and that the nightstand is almost empty except for the glass of water he set down for you. Like he’s still been leaving that space for you even when you’re not there to fill it. 

“C’mere,” Mason says immediately, tugging you into his chest. 

You relax against him, laying your head over his heartbeat and tracing his tattoos with your finger.

“Will you tell me how you’ve really been feeling lately?” you ask in a gentle voice. He immediately tenses, and you know he still doesn’t want to discuss it, but you’re not leaving Manchester without talking to him about this. “I saw the look on your face when I asked about the game tomorrow, babe. Please just talk to me.” 

“I don’t want to burden you with all this,” Mason says, refusing to meet your gaze. “I know how busy you are-“

“I told you, you’re my priority, Mase,” you insist. “And it’s actually more concerning when I don’t know what’s going on with you. If you talk to me, then maybe I can help.”

Mason sighs and moves into a more upright position, still holding your hand and playing with your fingers as a way of grounding himself as he gathers his thoughts. 

“I just never thought it would be like this, you know?” he mutters. “I thought that coming here would solve everything I was going through at Chelsea, but in a lot of ways it’s been even harder.”

You nod for him to continue, gently squeezing his hand.

“I thought when all the contract stuff was resolved and I was at a new club everything would be fine, but then it’s just been constant injuries and trying to adjust to a whole new life without actually being able to do the thing I love most,” he goes on, making your heart splinter even more. “Fifty-five million pounds and I don’t have a single goal to show for it.”

“You can’t help that you’ve been injured, baby,” you say softly, though you know he already knows that. “If you were in top form, you’d be scoring goals all over the place. I know it.”

He smiles slightly, always grateful for your neverending confidence in him. You’ve been his biggest fan from the moment you met, cheering him on through every high and low of his career. 

“Maybe, but I haven’t had the chance to try,” he mutters. “I’m just stuck here, being useless to the club and hours away from you. I basically upended our lives just to end up not playing for months.”

“Mase, if I’m not allowed to feel guilty for us being apart, neither are you,” you say firmly. “Coming to United was the right decision. It may not feel like it now, but I promise it will in the long run. And if not, we’ll find a new place for you to show everyone how amazing of a footballer you are. Even if it’s in a different city or another country, we’ll figure it out.”

“Babe, I feel bad enough that you’re moving away from London to be here next year, I’m not gonna ask you to move again,” Mason says, still fiddling with your fingers. “I have to make it work here.”

“And I’m sure you will as soon as you’re better,” you tell him, bringing your joined hands to your lips. “But if it ends up not being a good fit, I will happily follow you anywhere you want to go.”

“Even the States?” Mason jokes, making you roll your eyes and poke him the ribs. “It would be cool to play with Messi.”

“You are not going to the MLS any time soon,” you reprimand him. “But yes, I would go to Florida for you, babe. That is how much I love you.”

Mason laughs, moving your joined hands so it’s his turn to lay kisses on your knuckles.

“Wouldn’t be so bad. The weather’s good, and we could hang out with the Beckhams,” he says, smiling against your skin. “We could take our kids to the beach-“

“Oh, our kids, huh?” you remark, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, by the time I’m actually ready to play in the MLS…” 

“Alright, we’ll move to Florida with our hypothetical children in ten years,” you say decisively. “Then you can retire and stay home with them while I work.”

“I could take them to Disney World every day,” Mason sighs happily. “Oh, and the Harry Potter thing! Our kids would love that.” 

As much as you’re both joking, the thought of a time in the future when you’re settled with a family and not having to deal with all the separation and uncertainty makes your heart feel warm and fuzzy. You can’t wait to have a family with him someday. 

“In all seriousness, babe, you’ve already accomplished so much in your career and I know you’re going to do so many more amazing things,” you tell him, reaching out to cup his cheek. “And even more importantly, you are such an incredible person off the pitch.“

Mason blushes, leaning into your palm and holding it to his face so you don’t withdraw your touch. You know he struggles to take compliments sometimes, but you also know that this is something he needs to hear. 

“Which is why I refuse to listen to you call yourself useless when you do so much for your family, the community, for me - you make everything better, Mase,” you say softly. “That’s why are so loved. It’s why I fell in love with you, not because of your job.”

He takes a moment to soak up what you’re saying, still holding your hand to his face and pressing a few kisses to your palm. 

“You mean you’re not in it for the money?” he says after a minute, eliciting an eye roll from you. 

“It’s mostly for the money, but the abs don’t hurt either,” you tease, poking his stomach and making him laugh out loud for the first time in as long as you can remember. 

Mason pulls you into his arms again, leaning back and tucking you into his chest so your nose is pressed to his neck. You give him another tight squeeze, unable to get enough of his cuddles.

“Thank you so much, baby,” he mumbles into your hair as he slowly rubs his hand over your back. “For coming and for making me talk about this stuff. You always know exactly what I need.”

“Of course, my love,” you murmur. “Just promise me you’ll keep talking to me, okay? I don’t care how busy I am, I want to know what’s going on with you.”

“I promise,” Mason swears, squeezing your hand that rests over his heart. “And the same goes for you. I know how stressful this term has been, but I’m always here even if I can’t physically be there to help.”

“I know you are,” you smile. “And I know you’re the reason Ben or Woody brought me dinner or care packages before every midterm. They wouldn’t admit it, but I suspected they were under orders to check in on me.”

Mason chuckles. “Yeah, well, gotta send in the subs when I can’t do it myself.”

You hug him even tighter, throwing a leg over his and letting him shift you back into a more comfortable position for sleep. You’re yawning again, the exhaustion finally catching up to you now that the worry gnawing at your mind over Mason has been relieved.

“So, for tomorrow,” you say, your voice lower now that you’re both getting sleepy. “I think we should go to the game with Luke and Anouska, she already texted me and asked us to come over for dinner afterward. That way you and Luke can show your faces at Old Trafford and we can spend some time with them and the kids. Then, you and I can come back home and have a bit of a romantic night in.”

Mason doesn’t respond right away, and you give him a moment before you look up at him to see if something’s wrong. But when you do, you see only an adoring gaze and gentle smile on his face.

“Is that plan good with you?” you ask, “we don’t have to do any of it, I just thought-“

“No, no, it sounds perfect,” Mason cuts you off. “You’re perfect. I was just thinking about how much I love you.”

Your heart melts even more for him, if that’s possible, and you can’t resist leaning in to press another lingering kiss to his lips.

“I love you too,” you say, pressing a few more kisses to his cheeks and nose for good measure. “Now, let’s get a good night’s sleep so I can show you how much I love you in the morning, yeah?”

Mason nods with childlike enthusiasm, making you giggle again as you lay your head back on his chest. 

You can’t wait for the time to come that all of your nights end like this, curled up next to the love of your life, but for now, you’re grateful for this one.

No matter how many miles are between you, your heart is always gonna be wherever Mason is. He’s your home, whether you’re on opposite ends of the globe or in the same bed. 

You sleep better than you have in months.

please leave me a comment if you enjoyed this or send me an ask just to chat, love hearing from all of you xx

[fandom-chic]

Please Please Please: Chapter 1

Summary: Y/N is only a child when she and Tommy Shelby meet. The two quickly become best friends as they grow up in Small Heath. As the years go by, Y/N and Tommy realize there may be more to their friendship than they originally thought.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Y/N

A/N: Hi everybody! This Peaky Blinders fic is a SLOW BURN ROMANCE and will start off quite fluffy! Let me know what you all think and if you would like to see more.

She knew exactly which day it was when she first met him. She wouldn't forget it for the rest of her life. It was the spring of 1898, and her family had just moved to Small Heath. Her father had grown up there, and she remembered hearing stories from his boyhood, calling it "Magical Small Heath." She was ecstatic to go to such a place. It sounded like a dream come true.

But she was mistaken.

The rancid smell of the town seeped into every aspect of life there. The colors were dreary, the weather was raw, and the people seemed indifferent to everything. To top it off, the house she called home had maybe four rooms in total: her bedroom, her parents' room, the kitchen, and the bathroom. It couldn’t even be compared to her family’s old home in the country. During her first month in Small Heath, she often found herself staring out of her shoebox-sized bedroom window, yearning for some semblance of familiarity.

"You can't stay in your room all day," her father would say, standing at the doorway.

"I can try," she would mutter back, tracing the condensation on the window pane.

"I bet you can," he muttered under his breath as he turned to leave. He stopped abruptly and looked back. "The least you can do is meet the neighborhood kids. Don't turn your nose up at everyone just yet." All she could manage was an eye roll before her father left her to her own devices. She continued to gaze out the window, imagining herself somewhere else amidst the gray roads of Small Heath.

As day turned into night, she felt herself starting to drift off. Her eyes fluttered as her chin rested in her hand. Just as darkness began to envelop her, she heard a loud bang. Her eyes shot open, expecting to see a bullet hole in her window. Instead, all she saw was a ball lying in the garden below. It hadn't been there before, but now it found its place in the grass. She focused her eyes on the ball for a moment, and that's when she saw him.

He couldn't have been much older than her, maybe eight or nine years old. He leaned down and picked up the ball, rolling it over in his fingers before looking up at her. His eyes were the most colorful thing she had seen in Small Heath, like a sea of warmth amidst the coldness. She couldn't help but smile at him, and he returned a small grin. Then, he jogged off into the streets of Small Heath. She knew she had to say hello.

Her father was pleased to find an empty room the following day as he walked by her doorway. She didn't know where to find the boy, but she knew she had to search for him. She scoured the streets until her stomach rumbled, indicating it was lunchtime. With a sigh of defeat, she made her way back home. As she approached the front steps, ready for lunch, she heard a noise that stopped her in her tracks.

"Oy!" she halted and turned back to see a familiar pair of blue eyes. It was him.

"Hello," she said, feeling a blush creeping onto her cheeks.

He held up the familiar-looking ball. "We need another player," he raised an eyebrow. "Wanna join?" All she could do was smile and nod. He returned her smile and motioned for her to follow him. She gladly obliged.

Walking by his side, they made their way down an alley. She couldn't help but notice how his clothes hung heavily on his thin limbs. If his shoes weren't so big, his pant legs might have dragged on the ground. His cheekbones seemed more pronounced than those of a child his age. She knew she couldn't be the only hungry child in Small Heath.

"I've never seen you before," he said, tracing the seams of the ball with his forefinger.

"My family is new to town," she said, feeling compelled to share more. He grunted in response as she started to hear the voices of other young boys.

"Then welcome to Small Heath. I'm Tommy," he paused, holding out his hand. It seemed unusual for such a young boy to introduce himself in such a mature way, but she sensed that he must not lead a typical life.

"Nice to meet you, Tommy. I'm Y/N," she hesitated before adding, "I hope we can be friends." His lips curved into a smile. She wished she could capture that moment in a photograph and live within it. This was the day she made her first best friend.

As the two children ventured farther down the road, Y/N finally distinguished voices. They approached closer until she could put a voice to a face. The voice that rose above all the others belonged to a boy who appeared a little rougher than the rest.

"It's my fucking turn," he said, emphasizing the final syllable of the curse word. Her eyes widened in surprise. In her seven years of life, she had never heard such language. She looked over at Tommy for a reaction, but all she saw was a smirk.

"Oy, Arthur, it doesn't matter," the angry boy turned toward Y/N and her new friend, "because it is Y/N's turn." Her eyebrows inched up slightly. She had never played baseball before. She always saw it as something boys did while girls played "house" off to the side.

"It is?" Y/N questioned.

"She's gonna mess up all the teams," Arthur moaned, waving an arm toward the five other boys behind him.

"Then we'll start a new game," Tommy said, sounding determined. She knew Tommy was younger than Arthur, but the older boy seemed to respect him.

"Fine," Arthur mumbled, "but she's on your team."

"Of course, brother," Tommy said. They were brothers. Even more unusual, she thought, as the two boys went to the pitcher's mound to discuss teams. Before she knew it, Y/N found herself holding a bat, waiting for a ball to come flying towards her.

"What do I do?" she whispered to Tommy, who stood a few paces behind her. He chuckled to himself.

"Hit it and run like hell," he replied. She nodded hesitantly before turning to face Arthur. He made eye contact with her and tossed the ball in her direction. Instinctively, she flinched away.

"Strike one!" yelled the catcher. She knew flinching like that was the wrong move. She looked over at Tommy, who masked his disappointment by gazing up at the sky. She knew she had to hit the ball. She raised the bat higher as another ball flew toward her. This time, she kept her eyes open as she took a swing.

"Strike two!" the boy yelled again. She could hear the grimace in his voice. Resigning herself to the idea that baseball may not be her game, she heard her name being whispered loudly. She turned her head to see Tommy.

"Hold the bat like this," he said, mimicking holding it horizontally in front of him. "Don't swing, just hold it out." She nodded and made eye contact with the pitcher. She was determined now. When the ball came hurtling in her direction again, she held out the bat. When she heard the light tap of the ball barely grazing the bat, she knew she wasn't out. She smiled to herself and then over at Tommy. He looked at her wide-eyed before yelling, "Run!"

She sprinted like lightning to first base, and before she knew it, she was safe. She had officially played baseball and had made her mark on the game. She felt victorious in her own way. As she basked in her moment of triumph, Tommy took his turn at the plate. Too caught up in her own accomplishment, she didn't hear the bat make contact with the ball. She also didn't look up in time to notice the ball whizzing right at her. It wasn't until the hard ball struck her gut that she realized Tommy had hit it. She clutched her middle, crumbled to the ground, and let out a scream. Rolling onto her side, she held herself in a fetal position, trying to find some comfort, but the pain was too intense. Tears began to stream down her face.

Between the sobs, she finally noticed Tommy kneeling beside her. "Are you okay?" he asked. No, she was not. He knew that, just as well as she did. The pain was one thing, but the embarrassment in front of her new friend was unbearable.

"I should go home," she mumbled, wiping away a tear.

"Are you sure you want—"

"Yes," she spat. With that, she forced herself up and trudged home. She refused to look back at the boy she had hoped would be her friend. How could he be friends with her now? With the crybaby who didn't know the first thing about a friendly neighborhood game of baseball? She lay face down on her bed as soon as she arrived home, vowing to remain there for the rest of her existence. This was her life now—a loner with no friends.

She couldn't have been there for more than ten minutes when she heard a knock at the door. She heard her mother open it and footsteps approaching her room.

"Y/N," her mother said as the door creaked open, "you have a guest." She rolled her head to see Tommy standing in her room.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, as her mother shut the door behind Tommy.

"I wanted to see if you were okay," he said, stepping further into the room. "Getting hit like that hurts."

"It did," she said. "It hurt like hell." She heard a chuckle from Tommy.

"I can imagine," he said, dropping onto the floor beside her bed. Y/N rolled over, staring at the ceiling as a beat passed.

"I understand if you don't want to play with me anymore. No one wants to play with a crybaby," she kept her eyes fixed on the ceiling, not wanting to see Tommy's rejection.

"Why would you say that?"

"Because," she felt her fingers tense with anxiety, "they ruin the games and then run home to their mommies. How can that be any fun?"

"You actually sound a lot like Arthur right now," she could hear the humor in Tommy's voice, but she didn't want to look at his face just yet. "Maybe we can play a different game then." This statement shocked her. Now she looked down at him to see him gazing up at her.

"You still want to play with me?" she asked, a glimmer of hope in her voice.

He smiled and sighed. "I don't know," he said, fiddling with his fingers and averting his gaze. "I guess I do."

The moment she gave him a small smile, Tommy knew he was forgiven.

"We can ride horses next time in the fields outside town," she felt her eyes widen at his suggestion.

"You have horses?" giddiness bubbled in her stomach.

"No," he smirked to himself, "but I know where we can find some."

That day, Y/N knew she had met her best friend. Tommy, though, knew he had met his soulmate.

Next chapter

[sitp-recs]

oh fuck you’re right that trope is unparalleled. do you have any fics that fit that “it isn’t like this with other people” feeling? for drarry 🥺

I know!!! Such a delicious Drarry trope 🤌🏼 I got a couple recs but am sure there are more out there and I need all of them!

The Things They Never Say by @bixgirl1 (E, 9k)

Harry and Draco don't know how to talk. So they do other things instead.

Five Weddings and a Potions Accident by lauren3210 (E, 19k)

In which Harry thinks he’s a playboy, everyone else knows better, and Hermione will kill Seamus if Ron tries to collect on that bet.

Famous by @fw00shy (E, 24k)

It's a couple of years after the war, and Harry's bored of models now, the same way he's bored of Ron's constant nagging, bored of his Weasley monogram knitwear, bored of the same fucking grin that greets him when he hands his fire-truck red Bugatti over to the valet every night. He wants to find—well, he isn't sure what he wants. Anything but models. Harry is in the mood for...messy. And Draco Malfoy's looking like a walking disaster in the making.

I Bet That You Look Good on the Dancefloor by birdsofshore (E, 28k)

Harry felt lit up from inside as soon as he entered the bar. There were blokes dancing together, their bodies close to one another, not keeping a wary distance as Harry was always careful to do when he was near another man. God, he wanted this – wanted it so much he could taste it, a metallic tang of heat and desire. He suspected nothing would ever be the same again – especially when he saw who else was in the room.

Embers by @shiftylinguini (E, 41k)

Werewolf Alphas aren't meant to be alone, or to suppress their ruts indefinitely like Draco has been since he was bitten eight years ago. He needs company, companionship, to knot ― he needs an Omega Heat Companion. At least, that’s what the Healers say, and even Draco can admit contacting the person they’ve referred him to might be nice. Of course it turns out to be bloody Potter.

In The Red by bixgirl1 (E, 45k)

When Harry goes looking for a vampire at a Creature club, the second-to-last thing Harry expects is to find Malfoy working there. The last thing he expects is to fall in love with him.

Harry Potter Gives a Shit by talithan (E, 58k)

“Where are you headed?” “No place special,” Draco fumbled, and flushed further. But then: “I can change that,” said Harry Potter.

We Are Young (I'll Carry You Home Tonight) by Femme (E, 70k)

Harry and Draco have been falling into bed on and off again since the last election five years ago, much to the amusement--and financial gain--of their circle of friends. But when Harry agrees to work with Draco to put Kingsley Shacklebolt into the Minister's office, they can't work side-by-side again every day and sleep together; that would be courting disaster. Wouldn't it?

Grounds for Divorce by Tepre (E, 122k)

Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter. A story about histories, a story about families. A story about a lemon tree somewhere in Upper Egypt.

A Secondary Education by Thunderbird587 (E, 234k)

Fleeing the aftermath of his recent divorce, Draco Malfoy takes up a post as the new Potions Master at Hogwarts. At first he believes his hopes for a fresh start are dashed when he sees that a certain boyhood rival is on staff there as well. But Harry Potter is being weirdly nice to him, leaving Draco no choice but to play along.

[gardenschedule]

Quotes about the Lennon-Mccartney rivalry & John's insecurity

A long one!!

Pre-fame

“Paul was very good,” said Eric [Griffiths, of The Quarrymen]. “We could all see that. He was precocious in many ways. Not just in music but in relating to people.” […] His charm also worried John, according to Eric. “We were all walking down Halewood Drive to my house to do some practising. I was walking ahead with John. The others were behind. John suddenly said: ‘Let’s split the group, and you and me will start again.’ “We could hear Paul behind us, chatting to Pete [Shotton] as if he was Pete’s best friend. John knew we were all his pals, but now Paul was trying to get in on us. Not to split us up, just make friends with us all. I’m sure that was all it was, but to John it looked as if Paul was trying to take over, dominate the group. I suppose he was worried it could disrupt the balance, upset the group dynamics, as we might say today. “I said to him: ‘Paul’s so good. He’ll contribute a lot to the group. We need him with us.’ John said nothing. But after that the subject was never mentioned again.”

Eric Griffiths, c/o Hunter Davies, Sunday Times: A Beatle’s boyhood. (March 25th, 2001)

"It was uncanny. He could play and sing in a way that none of us could, including John," Eric Griffiths recalls. "He had such confidence, he gave a performance. It was natural. We couldn't get enough of it. It was a real eye-opener." After listening to Paul play, John recalled, "I had thought to myself, 'He's as good as me.' Now, I thought, if I take him on, what will happen? It went through my head that I'd have to keep him in line if I let him join [the band]. But he was good, so he was worth having. He also looked like Elvis. I dug him."

Bob Spitz, The Beatles: The Biography, 2005

Mimi remained resolutely unimpressed by anything her nephew composed with his ‘little friend’. ‘John would say, “We’ve got this song, Mimi, do you want to hear it?”’ she recalled. ‘And I would say, “Certainly not… front porch, John Lennon, front porch.”’ What she overheard that clearly wasn’t ‘caterwauling’ became another way of discomfiting John. ‘[He] got very upset with me when I mentioned one night that I thought Paul was the better guitar player. That set him off, banging away on his own guitar. There was quite a bit of rivalry going on there.’

Philip Norman, Paul McCartney: The Life. (2016)

Friends looked to Paul to control the damage, but it was beyond even his know-how. When John “went off like that,” Paul usually waited for the storm to pass or humored John to keep him from turning up the heat. And unbeknownst to Paul, some considered his presence in these situations more problem than solution. “It was obvious that John had big reservations about Paul, too,” says Hague, who absorbed his friend’s harangues during their drinking binges. “Even then, there was great jealousy there. He was all too aware of Paul’s talent and wanted to be as good and grand himself. After a while, you could see it, plain as day: the subtle body language or remarks that flew between them. He wasn’t about to let someone like Paul McCartney pull his strings.”

The Beatles – Bob Spitz

Yesterday

Barrow describes an incident from 1965 where McCartney ran through a dress rehearsal of “Yesterday” for a live evening performance on Blackpool Night Out. “Beatles Book editor Johnny Dean sat in the stalls close to comperes Mike and Bernie Winters and the other three Beatles, and watched Paul in solitary rehearsal on the stage, singing the song to his own guitar accompaniment. At the end, everybody heard John’s loud and decidedly sarcastic comment.” The nasty remark from John was said to upset Paul for several hours afterwards.

Beatles publicist Tony Barrow

At the end, everybody heard John’s loud and decidedly sarcastic comment. He made no secret of the fact that he thought ‘Yesterday’ was a slice of sentimental rubbish, and this led to several heated exchanges between John and Paul in the privacy of the group’s dressing room after the rehearsal.

Tony Barrow, c/o The Best of the Beatles Book (ed. Johnny Dean). (2005)

Following Paul's rendition of 'Yesterday', a comedy link was rehearsed for when the others reappeared on stage: John clutched a plastic bouquet of flowers which came away as Paul accepted them, leaving him holding only the bottom stems. As if to further puncture any pompous formality, John announced "Thank you Ringo, that was wonderful." "The Beatles were in a terrific mood..." Sean O'Mahony wrote in his editorial (Beatles Book #26), "laughing and gagging their way through rehearsals as though they were preparing for a private Beatle People Telly Show for the fan club rather than a national networked performance to millions of viewers." However, he now remembers a charged atmosphere at Blackpool that day after Lennon sarcastically roared "Thank you, Paul, that was bloody crap!" following McCartney's debut of the song during the afternoon rehearsal. If there was any tension it was swiftly diffused as Bryce's photographs reveal the two relaxed and joking in each other's company. Paul and John rode back to London together in comfort that night in Lennon's new black Phantom V Rolls-Royce.

Looking Through You: The Beatles Book Monthly Photo Archive

Throughout the Beatles’ 1965 summer concert tour of North America, Paul avoided doing the number on stage, partly in order to avoid further unpleasant conflict with John [and partly because nobody would be able to hear it in open air stadiums full of screaming fans]. it was the danger of giving added strength to the ‘Paul is leaving’ rumour that helped to prevent ‘Yesterday’ from being released there and then as a single in the UK. As Paul knows, it could have been a smash hit at home as well as all over the world but it would have annoyed the rest of the group, and their hostility in such circumstances would have caused him a lot of personal grief which he didn’t need.

Tony Barrow, c/o The Best of the Beatles Book (ed. Johnny Dean). (2005)

"John came to my loft and he was all excited," Smith recalls. "He said, 'I think I finally wrote a song with as good a melody as Yesterday.' Yesterday drove him crazy. People'd say, 'Thank you for writing Yesterday, a beautiful song...' He was always civil, but it drove him nuts."Sat at Smith's piano, Lennon revealed a title - Imagine - but only a smattering of lyrics. For the rest he sang "scrambled eggs" - just as McCartney had when inspired to write Yesterday. "He played it through and asked me what I thought. 'It's beautiful.' 'But is it as good as Yesterday?' 'They're impossible to compare.' So he played it again. And again. And he said, 'You'll see, it's just as good as Yesterday."

Howard Smith (DJ), interview w/ Danny Eccleston for Mojo: The Lennon tapes. (July, 2013)

After a particularly heavy session with the lawyers (he was also fighting deportation) Lennon would flop into his music room, pick up a guitar and tear into a primal-scream version of ‘Yesterday’. Sometimes he tried a little writing of his own. Usually he just sank further into the one Beatles song he never quite got over. Friends would find him sitting in the dark, lost in Paul’s ballad.

Christopher Sandford, McCartney. (2005)

PAUL: [laughs; mock-indignant] No. The worst thing for John was, that he didn’t write ‘Yesterday’, I wrote ‘Yesterday’, and he used to get really quite miffed, because he’d be in New York and he’d go into a restaurant, and the pianist would go du-du-du… [sings tune of ‘Yesterday’] And he’d go, “Oh… [grumbling] It’s Paul’s.”

September 19th, 2019: On BBC Newsnight

“Once we were in a Mexican restaurant, in a back room. We’d just been to see the musical Lenny, about Lenny Bruce. In the main room John spotted this strolling guitar player, which used to be standard in Mexican restaurants. He turned to me and said, “Howard, in five minutes that guitar player is gonna come in, stand next to me and play Yesterday. And sure enough, it wasn’t even three minutes. We had hardly settled down, and the guy came in and played Yesterday, a ridiculous over-the-top version. And I said, ‘John, that really does happen to you everywhere…’ And he said: ‘Everywhere.’ It drove him nuts.”

2013 Mojo article

Well, it’s difficult to choose the favourite. It’s one of my favourites. You look at your songs and kinda look to see which of the ones you think are maybe the best constructed and stuff… I think ‘Yesterday’, if it wasn’t so successful, might be my favourite. But, you know, you get that thing when something is just so successful… people often don’t want to do ‘the big one’ that everyone wants them to do. They kind of shy away from it. So… ‘Here, There and Everywhere’ with ‘Yesterday’ as a close second.

Paul McCartney, interviewed by Scott Muni (16 October 1984).

Here are Paul and John sparring in the dressing room following the remark that John made while they were rehearsing for their Blackpool Night Out TV show in August '65. The sparring between John and Paul continued while they were getting ready for the final recording. John and Paul continue their heated discussion with George as piggy-in-the-middle. The two-handed gesture clearly reveals the mood John was in, but Ringo and Brian still refused to join in the argument. Ringo poured himself a fizzy drink before the final show but John clearly decided he needed something a bit stronger before they went into the television studio.

228 of The Beatles Book Monthly Magazine - John and Paul’s argument after the Blackpool Night Out rehearsal

We never released Yesterday' as a single because we didn't think it fitted our image. In fact it was one of our most successful songs. "Michelle' we didn't want to release as a single. They might have been perceived as Paul McCartney singles and maybe John wasn't too keen on that.

The Beatles Recording Sessions The Official Abbey Road Studio Session Notes, 1962–1970

Productivity

But I was still under the false impression that – still felt, every now and then – Brian would come up and say, “It’s time to record,” or, “It’s time to do this.” And Paul started doing that. “Now we’re gonna make a movie. Now we’re gonna make a record.” And, uh, he assumed that if he didn’t call us, nobody would ever make a record. But it’s since shown that we’ve managed quite well to make records on time. [Now] I don’t have any schedule – I just think, “Now, I’ll make it,” you know. But those days, Paul would say, well, now he felt like it, and suddenly I’d have to whip out twenty songs. He would come in with about twenty good songs and say, “We’ll record next Friday.” And I suddenly had to write a stack of songs, like – [Sgt] Pepper was like that. And Magical Mystery Tour was another one of them.

September 5th, 1971 (St Regis Hotel, New York)

SHEFF: You say you haven’t really listened to Paul’s work and haven’t really talked to him since that night in your apartment— JOHN: Really talked to him, no, that’s the operative word. I haven’t really talked to him in ten years. Because I haven’t spent time with him. I’ve been doing other things and so has he. You know, he’s got twenty-five kids and about twenty million records out—how can he spend time talking? He’s always working.

John Lennon, interview w/ David Sheff for Playboy. (September, 1980)

You’d already have 5 or 6 songs so I’d think fuck it, I cant keep up with that. So I didn’t bother, you know, and I thought I don’t really care whether I was on it or not, I convinced myself it didn’t matter. And so for a period if you didn’t invite me to be on an album personally, if you three didn’t say ‘write some more songs because we like your work’, I wasn’t going to fight. There was no point in turning em out, I didn’t have the energy to turn them out and get them on an album as well.

John Lennon, MMT sessions

“John did not let Yoko’s foot-dragging slow him down. He kept working on the album, refining songs and coming up with new ones. He joked that he was becoming more and more like Paul McCartney, whose prodigious musical output had sometimes been a source of friction in their relationship. John wondered if Yoko might be feeling intimidated by his current period of fertility, just as he had once been intimidated by Paul’s greater musical productivity. Still, John kept up the pressure on Yoko over the phone, playing her his songs and encouraging her to play hers for him.”

The Last Days of John Lennon by Frederic Seaman (1991)

“He next expressed concern that Yoko was not giving the album her undivided attention because of the many ‘distractions’ she faced in New York, and even made a snide reference to her being surrounded by ‘useless sycophants.’ He again likened their situation to his old songwriting partnership with Paul McCartney, who had always been the more prolific writer and had frequently prodded John to come up with new material. ‘Paul never stopped working,’ John said with grudging admiration. ‘We’d finish one album and I’d go off and get stoned and forget about writing new stuff, but he’d start working on new material right away, and as soon as he had enough songs he’d want to begin recording again. I would have to scramble to come up with songs of my own. I wrote some of my best songs under that kind of pressure.’”

The Last Days of John Lennon by Frederic Seaman (1991)

We only spoke briefly about Paul and his comments at the time were, 'Yeah, well, you know, that's just Paul.' I think John was deeply hurt by their differences and the fact that their partnership wasn't a partnership. He felt the competition with Paul who would come in with 15 songs and want to record them all. John told me, 'I don't want to be in, you know, "Paul & the Beatles". I don't want to be a sideman for Paul. It's not what I want to do anymore.'

David Cassidy on John from Could it be forever? -My Story

Fear of abandonment

I was sort of answering him here, asking, ‘Does it need to be this hurtful?’ I think this is a good line: ‘Are you afraid, or is it true?’ – meaning, ‘Why is this argument going on? Is it because you’re afraid of something? Are you afraid of the split-up? Are you afraid of my doing something without you? Are you afraid of the consequences of your actions?’ And the little rhyme, ‘Or is it true?’ Are all these hurtful allegations true? This song came out in that kind of mood. It could have been called ‘What the Fuck, Man?’ but I’m not sure we could have gotten away with that then.

Paul McCartney, on “Dear Friend”. In The Lyrics (2021).

JOHN: [Paul] even recorded that all by himself in the other room, that’s how it was getting in those days. We came in and he’d – he’d made the whole record. Him drumming, him playing the piano, him singing. Just because – it was getting to be where he wanted to do it like that, but he couldn’t – couldn’t – maybe he couldn’t make the break from The Beatles, I don’t know what it was. But you know, I enjoyed the track. But we’re all, I’m sure – I can’t speak for George, but I was always hurt when he’d knock something off without… involving us, you know? But that’s just the way it was then.

August, 1980: interview with Playboy writer David Sheff

He is the least independent Beatle, leaning upon the group’s strength as a source for his own fundamental security.

Profile of John written by Tony Barrow (Beatles Press Officer) and published in March of 1968.

During the spring of 1968, John was as confused, lonely, and unhappy as I'd seen him in years. Though his relationship with the other Beatles was still free of serious strain, he was seeing increasingly less of Paul and George, both of whom were now pursuing independent lives and interests of their own.

In My Life, Pete Shotton

Insecurities

If you notice, in the early days the majority of singles—in the movies and everything—were mine. And then only when I became self-conscious and inhibited, and maybe the astrology wasn’t right, did Paul start dominating the group a little too much for my liking. But in the early period, obviously, I’m dominating the group. I did practically every single with my voice except for “Love Me Do.” Either my song, or my voice, or both.

David Sheff - All We Are Saying, The Last Major Interview with John Lennon and Yoko Ono

Do I want him back, Paul? … [D]o I want it back, whatever it is, enough? Then if it is, you know, I’ve had to smother my ego for you, and I’ve had to smother me jealousy for you to carry on, for whatever reasons there is.

Jan. 13: The Lunchroom Tape

I’ll tell you a story about John. He often used to wake up in the middle of the night and ask me, ‘Why do people cover Paul’s songs so much, but never mine?’ I used to tell him, ‘It’s because you are a talented songwriter. You don’t just rhyme June with spoon. And you are a very good singer – lots of people would be too afraid to cover one of your songs.’ Then I would make him a cup of tea, and he would be okay. I just miss that sort of moment that we had.

Yoko Ono, Q Magazine Awards. (October 10th, 2005)

“[John] was much misunderstood but mostly through his own fault. He put up his brick wall of sheer bravado to screen off a chronic fear of inadequacy.”

Beatles publicist Tony Barrow

“Most people in Britain think I’m somebody who won the pools, you know,” he says drily, drawing on a Gauloise. “Won the pools and married a Hawaiian dancer or actress somewhere. Whereas in the States, we’re treated like artists. Which we are! Or anywhere else for that matter,” he added. “But here, it’s like, the lad who knew Paul, got a lucky break, won the pools and married the actress.”

John Lennon, Melody Maker’s Oct 2nd 1971 issue. (no wonder he was so upset by Too Many People if he internalized the concept of 'a lucky break' this much...)

It was Paul who showed John how to play chords properly, instead of banjo chords, which were all John knew. I think John was quite defensive when he realised that through much of his "career" with the Quarrymen, he had been playing two-fingered banjo chords on a guitar. The thought was tempered by the fact that nobody had noticed. John once told me, "Only that fookin' McCartney sussed me out. I love him, but he's such a good musician I could kill him."

Tony Bramwell, Magical Mystery Tours: My Life With The Beatles, 2005

INT: In this song, in the “I Found Out”, “I seen through junkies, I been through it all, I seen religion from Jesus to Paul.” Now a lot of people are wondering which Paul you were talking about? JOHN: (Chuckle) Whichever one you want to mention. I think the Beatles were a kind of religion. And that uh, Paul manifest or, sort of, I can’t think of the word you know — epitomized, the Beatles and the kind of things that–the kind of hero image more than the rest of us in a way. Like he was more popular with the kids, girls and things like that. So it’s in that way it’s Paul. But it’s also the other Paul, who screwed up whatever Jesus said, that one… It’s a double entendre you know, for all the fanatics who like to play things backwards and hear words of wisdom which nobody ever thought of…

WABC-FM New York, Howard Smith interviews John and Yoko (December 12, 1970).

JOHN: I expected… just a little more, you know. I mean, because if Paul and I are sort of disagreeing, and I feel weak, I think he must feel strong, you know. That’s in an argument. Uh, not that we’ve had much physical argument, you know – more a mental, like when we’re talking— But you would expect the opposition. So called. So I was just surprised, you know. And, uh, I was glad too. [laughs; hesitating] I thought, yeah, I – you know. I suddenly re– got it all in perspective, you know.

Rolling Stone December 8th, 1970

SCHOENBERGER: How is it for an 11-year-old boy to have John Lennon as a father? JOHN: It must be hell. SCHOENBERGER: Does he talk about that to you? JOHN: No, because he is a Beatle fan. I mean, what do you expect? I think he likes Paul better than me… I have the funny feeling he wishes Paul was his Dad. But unfortunately he got me…

John Lennon, interview w/ Francis Schoenberger. (Spring, 1975)

SHERIDAN: I guess he realised somewhere along the way, “Well, I’ve got to do something other than just be a rock ‘n’ roll musician if I want to impress the whole world.” He never saw himself as a very good singer, for instance. INTERVIEWER: Really? SHERIDAN: No. He never saw himself as comparable to Paul McCartney, even. Which, you know, he was playing with a guy, writing songs with a guy whom he thought was better than he was in many ways. So he had this immense ego and this immense sort of – it was like a motor in him that had to go to new lengths and reach new heights in order to impress someody or the whole world or whatever. I think the peace movement – maybe he invented it, I don’t know.

2003: Tony Sheridan

We all went through a depression after Maharishi and Brian died; it wasn’t really to do with Maharishi, it was just that period. I was really going through the “What’s it all about?” type thing – this songwriting is nothing, it’s pointless, and I’m no good, I’m not talented, and I’m shitty, and I couldn’t do anything but be a Beatle. What am I going to do about it? It lasted nearly two years and I was still in it during Pepper. I know Paul wasn’t at the time; he was feeling full of confidence, and I was going through murder during those periods. I was just about coming out of it around Maharishi, even though Brian had died – that knocked us back again. Well, it knocked me back.

John Lennon, interview w/ Barry Miles, (partially) unpublished. (September 23rd, 1969)

We’d be cutting a record and he’d say, “Yeah, I remember trying to do this part in ‘Penny Lane’. I couldn’t play it and I got so pissed because Paul could always learn things so fast.”

Andy Newmark (drummer), interview w/ Rick Mattingly for Modern Drummer. (February, 1984)

When John’s first solo album Plastic Ono Band was released I went down to Tittenhurst Park several times. Sometimes, in reaction to the general dismay over the Beatles’ break up, he would ask rhetorical, and I thought slightly absurd, questions such as “Why should I work with Paul McCartney when I can work with Yoko or Frank Zappa?”, or became irritated when I happened to say “Paul has a good voice”. “He has a high voice,” John snapped back. At others, however, he would admit to an admiration for some of Paul’s songs.

Ray Connolly (journalist), Evening Standard: John... ‘performing flea’ or ‘crutch for the world’s social lepers’. (December 10th, 1970) c/o Ray Connolly, The Beatles Archive. (2011)

“His [John] moods were particularly vacillating when he talked about Paul McCartney. While he might be scornful of Paul’s romantic musical streak on one day, on another he would be insisting, ‘Paul and me were the Beatles. We wrote the songs’ – putting down, by inference, the contributions of Ringo and George. He knew how good Paul was, but he couldn’t hide a rivalry and jealous streak that nibbled away at him. ‘Paul has a good voice,’ I once commented as we were discussing singers. ‘He has a high voice,’ came his instant correction.

Ray Connolly, The Sunday Times Magazine: John Lennon, Yoko and Me. (December 9, 2018)

I was wondering whether the relationship had kind of snapped. I believe it was always there. He was very jealous and so was I and it was all stupidity on the surface.”

Paul (Record Mirror, April 1982).

Paul was the one Beatle who posed any challenge to John’s authority and preeminence within the group. Much as John might have found it easier to handle those who—like George and Ringo—seemed to take it for granted that he was the king of the castle, Paul was the only one he considered more or less his equal. John particularly admired and respected—yet at the same time slightly resented—Paul’s independence, his self-discipline, and his all-round musical facility: all qualities in which John felt relatively lacking.

Pete Shotton, John Lennon: In My Life. (1983)

He grew even more paranoid as the acid took effect, and Derek Taylor ended up sitting by him till well after daybreak. In an attempt to rebuild John's shattered ego, he persuaded him to recount his entire life story, from early childhood onwards. Derek even went through every Lennon-McCartney song, line by line, to demonstrate to John the extraordinary scope of his contribution to the Beatles* music. By the time John and I finally left, John's spirits had been lifted considerably.

In My Life, Pete Shotton

“Bit by bit over a two-year period, I had destroyed me ego. I didn’t believe I could do anything. I just was nothing. I was shit… and she (Yoko) made me realize that I was me and that it’s all right. That was it; I started fighting again, being a loudmouth again and saying, “I can do this. Fuck it. This is what I want,” you know. “I want it, and don’t put me down.”

Rolling Stone

"John's complaint to Paul was actually an attempt to get his songs on to albums without the usual democratic vetting by the others, as the conversation between John and Paul recorded by Anthony Fawcett in September 1969 reveals. John tells Paul: If you look back on the Beatles' albums, good or bad or whatever you think of "em, you'll find that most times if anybody has got extra time it's you! For no other reason than you worked it like that. Now when we get into a studio I don't want to go through games with you to get space on the album, you know. I don't want to go through a little manoeuvering or whatever level it's on. I gave up fighting for an Aside or fighting for time. I just thought, well, I'm content to put 'Walrus" on the "B" side when I think it's much better ... I didn't have the energy or the nervous type of thing to push it, you know. So I relaxed a bit nobody else relaxed, you didn't relax in that way. So gradually I was submerging. Paul protested that he had tried to allow space on albums for John's songs, only to find that John hadn't written any. John explained, "There was no point in turning 'em out. I couldn't, didn't have the energy to turn 'em out and get 'em on as well." He then told Paul how he wanted it to be in the future: "When we get in the studio I don't care how we do it but I don't want to think about equal time. I just want it known I'm allowed to put four songs on the album, whatever happens."

Many Years from Now

Everyone settled down in their seats. Paul McCartney tried to make peace with Chris. Chris said, “Paul sat by me and said, ‘Come on, Chris, let’s be friends….’ “I said, ‘Paul, just get away from me, I don’t want nothing to do with you guys. You know, you pissed me off!” As for Lennon, Chris recalled, “John? I guess he was a wise guy. But I got the sense that, I shouldn’t say this, that he was jealous of who I was or what I did. I don’t know what his problem was, but I didn’t like it too much.”

THE TRUTH BEHIND THE BRAWL BETWEEN JOHN LENNON AND CHRIS MONTEZ IN 1963! EXCLUSIVE!

Lifestyle

I introduced Yoko to John through my own interest in the avant-garde. John wasn’t avant-garde till later. Then John became wildly avant-garde because he was so fucking constricted living out in Weybridge. He’d come into London and say, ‘What’ve you been doing, man, what have you been doing?’ and I’d say, ‘What’ve you been doing?’ ‘Well, watching telly, smoking pot.’ ‘I went out last night and saw Luciano Berio at the Italian Embassy, that was quite cool. I’ve got this new Stockhausen record, check this out. We went down Robert [Fraser]’s, got this sculpture, it was great, dig this. Wow, Paolozzi, great …’ I think John actually said, ‘I’m fucking jealous of you, man’ – he just needed to get out of Weybridge. It wasn’t his wife’s fault, she just didn’t understand how free he needed to be.

Paul McCartney, c/o Jonathon Green, Days in the Life. (1988)

Living in the Asher house gave me the base and the freedom and the independence. That, alongside all the other things, because I wasn’t married to Jane. I was pretty free. I remember John very much envying me. He said, ‘Well, if you go out with another girl, what does Jane think?’ and I said, 'Well, I don’t care what she thinks, we’re not married. We’ve got a perfectly sensible relationship.’ He was well jealous of that, because at this time he couldn’t do that, he was married with Cynthia and with a lot of energy bursting to get out. He’d tried to give Cynthia the traditional thing, but you kind of knew he couldn’t. There were cracks appearing but he could only paste them over by staying at home and getting very wrecked.

Paul McCartney, Many Years from Now

In the beginning, art was what we talked about. [John] told me he thought he was like [surrealist painter René] Magritte. Why? Because, you know, you have the image of Magritte with the bowler hat and the suit, looking very square, but really his work was very surreal and far out. John was living in suburbia, and he was very embarrassed about that, because he felt as if he was not very hip. When he invited me to his house the first time, the first thing he said when I got there was, “I think of myself as Magritte.”

Yoko Ono, New York Times: An exhibition of drawings celebrates Lennon at 64. (October 7th, 2004)

“I was never in the London scene in the 60’s whereas George and Paul be going around to everybody’s sessions, playing with everybody. I never played anywhere without the Beatles. I never jammed around with people at all. Q: Loyalty, or just didn’t interest you? A: No, just shyness, insecurity, and ah, I couldn’t go in a session and play like George plays; you know I have limited vocabulary on the guitar and piano, so what could I do going in with Cream, or whatever they were doing in those days.”

John Lennon interview

The musician countered the perception of Lennon as the only artistic Beatle, asserting his own powerful avant-garde influence on Sgt. Pepper. “I’m not trying to say it was all me, but I do think John’s avant-garde period later was really to give himself a go at what he’d seen me having a go at.”

Paul Du Noyer, The Paul McCartney World Tour Booklet: 1989–1990 (New York: EMAP Metro, 1989)

Women

“Have you noticed that it’s always men with moustaches and beards who ask me for my autograph?” I said I hadn’t but that I’d watch out in future and, sure enough, it seemed he was right. Only men with moustaches and beards asked John for his autograph. “It was always the same,” he said. “Me and George got the guys with beards wanting to know the meaning of life, while Paul and Ringo got the women!” Inevitably, perhaps, a short while later a girl came to ask John for his autograph. Much to our amusement, though doubtless to her amazement, John grabbed her around the waist and sat her down on his knee. “Where are you now McCartney?” he shouted. “I’ve got a girl at last.””

Chris Charlesworth (journalist), Rock’s Backpages: Memories of John Lennon. (2001)

“I idolized John. He was the big guy in the chip shop. I was the little guy. As I matured and grew up, I started sharing in things with him. I got up to his level. I wrote songs as he did and sometimes they were as good as his. We grew to be equals. It made him insecure. He always was, really. He was insecure with women. You know, he told me when he first met Yoko not to make a play for her.

Paul and Hunter Davies, 1981

In the mirror I looked dreadfully pale and drawn. I still couldn’t believe it. John would never be there again. I kept getting flashbacks to when he was young and awkward. He liked women, but was always a bit uncomfortable, a bit nervous in their company – always a man’s man. Paul was beautiful – still is – and I know John thought, ‘God, with him around, I don’t stand a chance.’ It’s one of those things young lads have to put up with. They’re all dead worried about whether or not they’re going to get the girls, and John, as a teenager, saw Paul as his rival. That made him moody, but it was his moodiness that gave the songs they wrote together an edge. When he was four, John had been abandoned by his dad, deserted by his mum and brought up by his Auntie Mimi. He’d always felt rejected, but that gave his writing depth, a darkness. Paul was the counterbalance, the light. You could see this in Paul’s eyes and the girls just tumbled in and were washed away. What John never really appreciated was that he, too, had charisma, and that women did think he was sexy.

Cilla Black, What’s It All About. (2003)

SALEWICZ: Oh, he was presumably very paranoid. PAUL: I think so. I mean, he warned me off Yoko once. You know, “Look, this is my chick!” ’Cause he knew my reputation. I mean, we knew each other rather well. And um, I felt… I just said, “Yeah, no problem.” But I did sort of feel he ought to have known I wouldn’t, but. You know, he was going through “I’m just a jealous guy”. He was a paranoid guy. And he was into drugs. Heavy.

Paul, September, 1986 (MPL Communications, London)

That’s typical Paul [wanting me to stay inside the George V Hotel with the band instead of going out by myself to see Paris]. It’s just so silly of me to stay at the hotel. It’s just that he’s so insecure. For instance, he keeps saying he’s not interested in the future, but he must be because he says it so often. The trouble is, he wants the fans’ adulation and mine too. He’s so selfish, it’s his biggest fault. He can’t see that my feelings for him are real and that the fans’ are fantasy. Of course, it’s the trouble with all boys. When I first met [the Beatles], I liked them all. Then, when I found out that I liked Paul more, the others became angry with me.

Jane Asher, c/o Michael Braun, Love Me Do!: The Beatles’ Progress. (1964)

"Q: "Now that Paul is the only bachelor Beatle, do you find that the girls gravitate more to him than they do to the rest of you fellas? How do you feel about that?" JOHN: "They always did!" RINGO: "Yeah." PAUL: "Well, the thing that we found... We found after all this business, of all the buttons that say 'I love Ringo,' "I love John,' John's were outselling everyone's." JOHN: "A rather distinctive Beatle." PAUL: "A distinctive Beatle.""

Press conference, New York, August 22, 1966

JOHN: Well, uh… [distracted] There was a lot of – [inaudible] I suppose, but I was so full of myself then, I didn’t give a shit what he did. HILBURN: Full of what? JOHN: Full of meself. Centered, in other words. So I just— HILBURN: So in a sense, you weren’t comparing as much as you might have— JOHN: [matter-of-fact] There’s no comparison for me. ‘Cause we’re— HILBURN: You mean comparing artistically, or you mean comparing sales-wise and stuff? JOHN: Oh, sales-wise, forget it. He always had more fans than me, in the Cavern… So there’s no comparison on that level. And on the other level, I don’t think it counts. I think it’s like comparing… I don’t know, Magritte and, er – Picasso, if you want to put it on that level. Or whatever. How can you compare it?

October 10th, 1980 (Hit Factory, New York)

The same popularity, meaning Paul was always more popular than the rest of us, was going down in the dance halls in Liverpool so it didn’t cause any big surprise. I mean the kids saw him, the girls would go ooh, you know, right away.

John Lennon on The Tomorrow Show – 04/08/1975

Breakup/post breakup

"There was amazing competition between us and we both thrived on it. In terms of music, you cannot beat a bit of competition. Of course, there's times when it hurts, and it's inevitably going to reach a stage where it's hard to live with. Sooner or later, it's going to burn itself out. I think that's what happened at the end of The Beatles.

Paul - Uncut, July 2004

I felt sad, you know. I also felt that film was set up by Paul, for Paul. That’s one of the main reasons the Beatles ended, you know, cause... I can’t speak for George but I pretty damn well know. We got fed up with being sidemen for Paul, after Brian died that’s what began to happen and the camera work was set up to show Paul and not to show anybody else and that’s how I felt about it. And on top of that, the people who cut it, cut it as Paul is god and we’re just lying around.

John Lennon: The Rolling Stone Interview, Part One

Though thinking of Paul caused John pain, he could never get McCartney out of his head; Paul’s music was everywhere, and it always made him jealous, even the songs he enjoyed. In Bermuda, John was listening to all kinds of things on the radio, not just the Muzak and classical he listened to in New York. Coming Up, Paul’s hit single from McCartney II, was unavoidable. Every time he tuned in the BBC or one of the local stations, there it was. It began to drive John crackers; every word of the song was addressed directly to him. Ultimately, he came to admire it and draw inspiration from it.”

Robert Rosen, Nowhere Man: The Final Days of John Lennon, (2000)

At that moment, John was at his most unpredictable. Suddenly his fears that his money was going to be taken away from him, that he was going to be cheated, that he had to have as much money as possible, had all come into play. This was also John’s way of resisting the reality that the Beatles were officially about to come to end, and that Paul was about to prevail.

Loving John, MAY PANG (1983)

“The funny part is that I let him get away with it for so long. You know, I used to dread it when he was in town, but I never had the sense to go out to the island or just not answer the door. He’d come striding in with a guitar under one arm and Linda under the other, asking me what was new, knowing nothing was new. Then he’d always ask if I’d heard his latest, which I usually hadn’t. The guitar was so we could sing together, but that was never going to happen. I’d just tell him that I was really busy being a father. He must have seen through that because he’s a father many times over and that certainly doesn’t tie him down. It wasn’t till I told him that I was real busy that if he wanted to see me he’d have to call first that he got the message to leave off. I have your tarot advice to thank for that.”

John Green, Dakota Days. (1983)

COSTAS: if somebody didn’t, mixed in with it all, genuinely love somebody, genuinely care about their feelings about them, they wouldn’t go to the lengths, in whatever strange way, that John did to lash back at you! They wouldn’t hold a pig on the cover to parody you holding a sheep in ‘RAM’! They wouldn’t, you know, call your stuff rubbish and write ‘How Do You Sleep’. They wouldn’t do it! PAUL: Oh, I think that’s right. I think that’s right. He was- he was very hurt, there were people turning him against me. It was his way of defending himself. He was- he was quite pissed off about the ‘McCartney bandwagon’ as he once called it, you know? [mimicking John] ‘Oh, bloody- he’s gettin’ on all the telly, he’s sellin’ records!’ Yeah, he was- he was a jealous guy! But I understood that! That was John! You love it or you leave it! And I stuck with it for many, many years!

Paul McCartney, Interviewed by Bob Costa, 1991.

It was a weird time. The people who were managing us were whispering in our ears and trying to turn us against each other and it became like a feuding family. In the end, I think John had some tough breaks. He used to say, ‘Everyone is on the McCartney bandwagon.’ He wrote ‘I’m Just A Jealous Guy’ and he said that the song was about me. So I think it was just some kind of jealousy. I had to try and forgive John because I sort of knew where he was coming from. I knew that he was trying to get rid of the Beatles in order to say to Yoko, ‘Look, I’ve even given that up for you. I’m ready to devote myself to you and to the avant-garde.’ I don’t know if it’s true. One thing I’m really glad about is that I didn’t answer him back. It’s very difficult to do that when someone is attacking you. But I would have felt sick as a dog now if I had.

Paul McCartney, interview w/ Diane de Dubovay for Playgirl. (February, 1985)

PAUL: He was into heroin, and – see, which I hadn’t realised [the extent of] till just now. It’s all [starting to click a bit] in my brain. I was just figuring, oh, there’s John, my buddy, and he’s turning on me, ’cause he perceives that I’m... “McCartney bandwagon,” he once said to me. “Oh, they’re all on the McCartney bandwagon.” And to me, I was just releasing a record, okay. So you can call it the McCartney bandwagon, but it’s no harm. It’s no more than anyone else does when they put out a record. And yet things like that were hurting him, and looking back on it now I just think that it’s a bit sad really.

September, 1986 (MPL Communications, London)

Lennon’s jealousy of McCartney continued throughout the rest of his life. Lennon’s staff at the Dakota, where he spent his final years, attest to frequent tirades about his former partner. In his personal journals, Lennon wrote about Paul “almost every day” according to author Robert Rosen, who read the diaries in 1981 after they were stolen by Dakota employee Fred Seaman. When asked, in 2010, about the most disturbing takeaway of the diaries, Rosen replied “That’s easy. His jealousy of Paul, his love of money and his obsession with the occult.”

Robert Rosen

RR: Obviously I knew about the rivalry with McCartney, and the jealousy, but I think the extent of it...how often he thought about McCartney, and how jealous he was...I found that pretty shocking. I found it shocking that he was so into money. And the emphasis that was put on the occult was pretty shocking. The extent that they got into it.

An Interview with Robert Rosen

On one McCartney photo, Lennon scribbled the words, “I’m always perfect” as coming from McCartney’s mouth. He drew a Hitler-style moustache on another photo of McCartney. In an entry noting McCartney’s marriage to Linda Eastman, Lennon crossed out “wedding” and wrote “funeral”, the Observer said. But in a final tender moment, the Observer said, Lennon wrote under a photo of himself with McCartney: “The minutes are crumbling away.”

Associated Press: Lennon’s resentment of McCartney reflected in book notes. (July 20th, 1986)

So we went through a lot of those problems. But the nice thing was afterwards each one of them in turn very, very quietly and very briefly said, ‘Oh, thanks for that.’ That was about all I ever heard about it. But again, John turned it round. He said, ‘But you’re always right, aren’t you?’ See, there was always this thing. I mean, it seemed crazy for me because I thought the idea was to try and get it right, you know. It was quite surprising to find that if you did get it right, people could then turn that one around and say: ‘But you’re always right aren’t you?’ It’s like moving the goal posts.

Paul McCartney: An Innocent Man? (October, 1986)

So, here we sit, watching the mighty Dylan and the mighty McCartney and the mighty Jagger slide down the mountain, blood and mud in their nails. Well, that’s the way the world is, ha ha ha, that’s the way the world is, oh yes. The difference between now and a couple of years back is that whenever there was a new thing out by any of the aforesaid, I used to feel a sense of panic and competition. And now, I just feel like even the last few months it’s changed. I would send out for their albums or something just to hear it. There doesn’t seem any point now. Let’s take a break. How do we break? Just put it off. Still, even now, talking about them or thinking about them is still really being involved in it, because the ultimate dissociation would be not even to know they had an album out! [laughs] But now at least I get pleasure in it instead of panic. The main pleasure being of course that it’s all a load of shit. So I suppose I’ll always feel competitive with them, because they were from that same generation, but when I hear something like “Pop Muzik” by Robin Scott or the Blondie single, I really enjoy it, you know. I don’t feel competitive about it.

Lennon audio diaries

“They [Lennon & McCartney] saw each other again in 1977. The Lennons and McCartneys ate dinner together at Le Cirque, Paul’s favourite French restaurant in New York. John regretted going; it was a loathsome night. Paul and Linda blathered on and on about how perfect their lives were, how they had everything they’d ever wanted, and how they were as happy as they’d ever been. Something very paranoid suddenly occurred to John. Maybe Lorraine Boyle was spying on him for the McCartneys! He woke up the next morning still feeling disturbed; he consulted the Oracle. Swan assured him that Paul and Linda were frustrated and unsatisfied. Their marriage was in trouble, he said, predicting it would break up within the year. Lately Swan’s visions had been astonishingly accurate. Relieved, John began composing a song—a little ditty, really, that would never be released—in praise of the Oracle’s powers. But he still couldn’t understand why Paul and Linda had been together for as long as they had. There appeared to be a psychic connection between John and Paul. Every time McCartney was in town, John would hear Paul’s music in his head.”

Robert Rosen, Nowhere Man: The Final Days of John Lennon, (2000)

We agreed that if the press got hold of this record we’d pull the plug on it. I’d tell the musicians that John wasn’t sure if he could do it. He was very, very insecure. He didn’t think he had it anymore, you know. He thought he was too old, he just couldn’t write, he couldn’t sing, he couldn’t play, nothing. It took a while.

Jack Douglas on working with John Lennon on Double Fantasy.

“Yoko was an extremist and was even more intense than John taking any idea or comment of his to the limit. If, for example, he complained about any of his fellow Beatles she would hint that that Beatle had always been an enemy implying that John should never deal with that person again. Her extreme positions fascinated John and help him take his mind off himself but when she became self-involved and paranoid herself -her paranoia usually dealt with her career, her fame and the fact that even though she had always been famous everyone conspired to keep her from getting even more famous- he had no place to turn. His insecurity about his solo career, his childhood, his relationships with the other Beatles, the way the public perceived Yoko overwhelmed him and he became more and more involved with drugs.”

May Pang, Loving John (1984)

Klein, on his first meeting with John: “I thought John was losing confidence in himself, and I really didn’t know who had written exactly what, so I couldn’t give John the encouragement he needed. If Paul was really the main factor in the making of records — I mean, if things were really going to fall apart without him — I needed to know that and be able to deal with it. It turned out, of course, that John had written most of the stuff. He’d forgotten a lot of what he’d contributed … John wrote … 60 or 70 percent of Eleanor Rigby. He just didn’t remember till I sat down and had him sort through it all … Everybody thought McCartney was the genius songwriter who did it all by himself and it wasn’t true.”

Allen Klein, Playboy: A candid conversation with the embattled manager of the Beatles. (November, 1971)

Few people disagreed, however, that McCartney always cared deeply about Lennon’s opinion of him. He was still insecure enough on this point to invite Andy Peebles, the Radio 1 DJ who interviewed John the weekend before his death, to join him early on the morning of 10 December. Peebles went to AIR, where he found Paul both ‘deeply shocked [and] obsessed about what John and Yoko had said about him.’ An irony not lost on Peebles, among others, was that Lennon himself had repeatedly tried to find out what Paul had thought of Double Fantasy. “For public consumption,” says another of his final interviewers, “John seemed not to care. The fact that he mentioned McCartney’s name on average ten times an hour suggests otherwise … The strong feeling was that Paul and Yoko were the only two people in the world whose approval he gave a toss for.” Time passed. Paul locked the door of his home studio and played (Just Like) Starting Over, the first single from Double Fantasy. Top volume. For days.

Christopher Sandford, McCartney. (2005)

He became so jealous in the end. You know he wouldn’t let me even touch his baby. He got really crazy with jealousy at times.

Paul McCartney, “off the record” conversation with Hunter Davies. (May 3rd, 1981)

“If you do two LPs there might be a little change!” John laughs. “But until then I don’t mind. When she wants the A side, that’s when we start fighting.

John Lennon, interview w/ Jonathan Cott for Rolling Stone: Yoko Ono and her sixteen-track voice. (March 18th, 1971)

John as a solo artist didn’t sell a lot of albums compared to Paul McCartney. That bothered him. So did the adulation that Paul received when he’d go out on the road, which was all rightfully deserved, in my opinion. 

Friends, Forever: Elliot Mintz On His Decade With John And Yoko

Paul's competitiveness

“My role in [Tug of War] was to goad Paul a bit. I think when he and John Lennon split up, he missed John’s goading enormously. It’s almost like they collaborated by means of competition. John would often say cruel things to Paul and Paul would come back and say, ‘I’ll show him what I can do,’ and Paul could be equally cruel to John and then John would come up with something. Despite the love they had for each other, they would still egg each other on in a funny kind of way. I think Paul missed that spur.”

George Martin, interview w/ Paul Grein for Billboard: Martin/McCartney ‘Tug’ team scores. (February 2nd, 1983)

SMITH: Were you closer to any one of them than the others? GEORGE M.: Not really – certainly not in those days, no. Gradually, as things changed, then they went into their little spheres and they became much more – the rivalry between John and Paul became much more marked. So they were never great cooperators. They were never great – they were never Rodgers and Hart. They never collaborated in the sense of sitting down to write a song together. One would have the idea for a song, and take the other guy and say, “Look, I need your help here on this line, can you give it to me?” And that was the way they collaborated. And generally speaking their songs were pitched against each other, [in the sense of] “Well, you’ve written that, hey, listen to mine,” so it was a competitive collaboration. And it was valuable nonetheless, because – in fact Paul misses it terribly now. He misses that spark of John being rude to him and saying, “You can’t write that, Paul, that’s awful,” you know. He needs that. And only John could say that most effectively.

October 22nd, 1986: George Martin

"Paul McCartney was the most competitive person I've ever met. John [Lennon] wasn't competitive. He just thought everyone else was s-h-*-t."

Ray Davies

TV GUIDE: At the time of Wings, how competitive were you with your former Beatles band mates? PAUL: Really competitive. I don’t think any of us would have ever admitted it. I know we would listen to what each other was doing and [think], “Oh, my God, that’s good.” I know for a fact John did once with [my] song ‘Coming Up’. It was on a documentary, I think, about John, where his recording manager at the time said John listened to it and went, “Oh, I’ll have to go back to work.” I found that a very nice fact that I egged John into doing something.

Paul McCartney, interview w/ Lisa Bernhard and Steven Reddicliffe for TV Guide: Listen to what the man says. (May 1st, 2001)