#just thinking of how must have felt in that second

[poguelandiarafe]

broken promises 3 | rafe cameron

pairing - rafe cameron x female reader

warnings - angst, mature language, mentions of infidelity

summary - rafe finds you on the beach and begs for forgiveness but your pain is too raw to think about forgiving him. he's promising to do better for you and the baby but you reject his apologies, leaving him alone in the sand.

(sorry the last two chapters are so short, i'm trying to figure out which direction to take the series in. please please please (hey sabrina) message me or comment your thoughts and ideas!)

not a one-shot, read part one and part two here <3

masterlist

————

“leave me alone, rafe. i don’t want to talk to you.”

you're impressed with yourself, nearly expecting your arms to automatically open wide and accept him back just like that. but they don't, they stay firmly wrapped around yourself and as much as it pains you to realise, you don't want them around him anymore.

rafe runs a hand over his head, a frustrated sigh falling past his lips. he's been driving for hours and you won't even give him the time of day. taking cautious steps, he slowly approaches you until he's standing in front of you.

when you don't react, he kneels down in front of you and places a hesitant hand on your hip. his fingers barely graze your skin before you're quick to grab his hand and throw it off you. the feeling of his skin on yours is too much for you to handle. though your heart and body yearns to be wrapped up in his arms again, your mind is just about strong enough to not allow it to happen.

"let me explain, baby, please." he begs, his voice cracking.

"i said leave me alone," you sigh, yet you can feel your anger bubbling just beneath the surface, "there's nothing to explain."

you already know what he'll say - pathetic excuses and apologies about how much he messed up and that he regrets it. words you can't let yourself be fooled by.

rafe's shoulders sag as the words reach his ears. his hand slowly raises to grab your hip before he drops it back to his side in defeat. he's never felt so helpless before and he hates it. having you so close yet completely out of reach makes his heart ache in a way he never thought possible.

"you don't mean that, we can't end it like this," he whispers, voice thick with emotion as he looks up at you through wet lashes, "there must be something i can do. i'll do anything. i'll wait for you, i'll give you space. i'll do it for you and for our baby. i promise, y/n."

you refuse to look at him, instead keeping your eyes fixed on the ocean, willing yourself not to cry. his stare is burning into your skin and the faintest trace of forgiveness he's looking for from you is nowhere to be seen.

rafe stays kneeling in front of you, never taking his eyes off your face, searching for a crack in your amour. he's trying to maintain his composure, but his breathing is laboured and he's desperately blinking away the tears that blur his vision.

"no. i mean it, rafe. i need you to leave me alone." you say firmly, the words sharp, "i don't want you to wait. i won't stop you from being involved with the baby, but i don't want you to wait for me because i can't be with you anymore. i can't forgive you."

every part of you screams to walk away and never look back, to let him face the consequences of his actions alone. however, your feet remain rooted to the spot, as if a part of you is silently willing rafe to beg harder to fix this, even though you know it wouldn't change anything.

"you don't mean that," he says softly, "you still love me, i know you do. please, just tell me what to do to fix this."

"you shouldn't have to ask me how to fix this. and i do still love you," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper, "but i don't trust you, rafe. you've made your bed. now, lie in it."

for a split second, you think he's going to argue. his lips part to say something but the words never make it past them. so, before you can change your mind, you turn on your heel and quickly walk over to your car, each step feeling heavier than the last. you don't look back, even when you hear him choke out a broken plea. behind you, rafe stays kneeling in the sand, watching as you walk further and further out of his life.

once you reach the car, you let out a trembling breath and attempt to compose yourself. sliding into the driver's seat, the jagged edges of your keys dig into your palm and you squeeze them tighter, as if turning your emotional pain into physical pain will somehow help. for a moment, you just sit and stare, the weight of the day's events crashing down on you.

a few minutes pass before you start the car, and the last thing you see before driving off is rafe sitting in the sand with his head in his hands and knees pulled up to his chest. the thought of going back crosses your mind and you force yourself to look away, to focus on the road instead. you don't know where you're going, only that you can't go home.

taglist: @hellothere7 @faephoria @xcinnamonmalfoyx @samwinchesterisawhore @alyisdead @maybankslover @vdotcom @kundaquarius @lil-sparklqueen @flvredcas @esquivelbianca @pillowprincess4him @mariadu2 @suyqa @sexy123s-s @inmyowndefender @dreamygirli3 @aesthetic-lyss @gorgeouscgirl

[pulisicsgirl]

home for the holidays - mason mount

summary: just when nothing seems to be going right for Mason and Y/N, her Christmas plans are foiled for the second year in a row, leaving her unsure of how to approach the topic with Mason

pairing: Mason Mount x reader

word count:

warnings/tags: a little bit of angst at the beginning but it all turns fluffy for the rest of it, pre-established relationship, mentions of Mason’s recent injury, hurt/comfort, interrupted beauty sleep, Christmas celebrations :))))))

based on a request from @raremasey as a part two to christmas on my own

notes: Merry Christmas to all who celebrate!!!!! I wasn’t planning on posting another fic before the New Year, but when I got this request, I knew I had to write it in time to post before the holiday season was up! Thank you all for sticking with me through this year 🤍 You all mean more to me than you’ll ever know!! I hope you’re all getting to spend some time resting and enjoying your family/friends!! Please enjoy the fic!!

As Christmas Day approached rather quickly, you thought to yourself that you must never have experienced a holiday season that was quite so dreary.

You had done your best to bring the festive holiday spirit into your home—even into Mason’s as you forced him to join you in decorating his house on the very first day of December, dragging him into a few shops to buy extra decorations to fill his house. He had only pretended to be a little bit annoyed, his aversion to shopping completely overcome by getting to watch the joy on your face while decorating for the holidays. You had spread lights, tinsel, ornaments, and little snowman figurines all over the rooms of his home while you shuffled your Christmas playlist in the background.

Since your addition to his family’s Christmas celebrations last year had been impromptu, this was the first time Mason had gotten to see how much you loved this time of year. He truly thought he had never met someone who was as enthusiastic and joy-filled at the mere thought of Christmas.

However, Mason still couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment each time he remembered that you wouldn’t been spending Christmas morning with his family. He tried his best not to show it— he knew how much it meant to you that your family would be traveling to see you this year.

Your relationship with your parents had felt a bit… well, strained over the last year. Ever since the incident of last Christmas, when they had failed to give you an advance notice of their plans to travel to see your brother for the holiday and leaving you to celebrate alone, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being quite low on their list of priorities. It wasn’t just Christmas; it was a host of other incidences as well. You had done your very best to repair what seemed to have been damaged, and the fact that you would get to see your family for the holiday left you overjoyed. With a couple promotions at work this past year, you had been able to move into a nicer, larger flat, and Mason knew you were excited for them to get to see it—not to mention how glad you were to be together with them on Christmas Day and finally get to introduce them to Mason.

Despite this throwing a wrench in his holiday plans, Mason couldn’t help but think life was starting to look up for the two of you. After another brief spell out of the United squad following his head injury, he was back to getting regular minutes on the pitch, and the new gaffer seemed to be working him in as a more important part of the team. And with your successes in your career, you had been more optimistic than ever. And as the two of you approached your first dating anniversary, you both truly couldn’t have been happier together.

But all of that seemed to come crumbling down in the matter of a few days.

When you had gotten the call from your mother, you almost couldn’t believe your ears.

Your brother had unexpectedly received the news that his work schedule had changed, and he would be expected to work on Christmas Eve—meaning he, his wife, and your 2-month-old niece would be unable to travel to visit you. But your father and mother couldn’t possibly bear to miss the little one’s very first Christmas, so instead they would remain at home and your brother (who lived nearby) would host Christmas instead.

Too much in shock to form much of a thought, you had asked if she was sure. But it was final— the flights had already been cancelled, and they were firm in their decision.

Your stomach sank to your feet, and the only thing you could bring yourself to do was end the call without another word to her. Standing in your kitchen, you cried silently, the tears streaming down your cheeks as a million thoughts ran through your mind. You felt that you would never be enough for your parents, wondered what you had done to deserve such treatment from them.

The news felt like a sharp object had been driven into your heart and you spent the rest of your evening curled up on your bed, wallowing in your feelings and ignoring the calls and texts from your mother after you had unexpectedly ended your conversation.

When you awoke the next morning, your first thought was of talking to Mason about the previous night's events—a conversation that would unfortunately have to wait as he had a big game to play today: the highly anticipated Manchester derby. It was a huge game, not only because of the longstanding rivalry between the two teams, but because Mason was expected to be in the starting eleven.

Knowing you couldn’t bear to serve as a distraction from such a huge moment for him after the months and months of hard work it had taken him to get there, you decided your problems would have to wait. You couldn’t talk to him before the game and risk shifting his focus. But you also couldn’t talk to him after the game—if United lost, it would just be rude to make things about yourself instead; but if they won, you couldn’t possibly bring down his good mood with your complaining.

So then, you decided, you would have to tell him tomorrow… or maybe the next day.

You took a hot shower, hoping to wash away the heavy feeling in your chest and the puffiness of your eyes. You had donned your kit with Mason’s name printed across the back and made your way to the Ethiad stadium.

The crowd was buzzing as they awaited the start of the game. You settled into the private box, greeting Mason’s family, and you knew Lewis could tell there was something off with you, but he didn’t mention it. Everyone was overjoyed at the news of the starting lineups, bringing with it the confirmation that Mason would be starting for the first time in quite a while.

You were overjoyed for him, able to put aside your own sorrows for the time being, eyes shining with happy tears as you watched him walk out onto the pitch while the anthem played.

But for the second time in less than 24 hours, your stomach sank as, 14 minutes into the game, you watched Mason wave the physios over as he sat on the grass. He was too far away for you to be able to make out his facial expression, but there was no mistaking the posture of the rest of his body. As he spoke with the physios and they looked him over, his shoulders slumped, a resigned look taking over him.

As if this day needed another disappointment.

The rest of your day had been spent looking after Mason, bringing him anything you thought he could possibly need so he wouldn’t lift a finger and holding him tight in your arms to ease the disappointment of yet another setback in his recovery.

Surely now you couldn’t mention everything with your parents to him just yet. It would be so cruel to make him feel sorry for your when he was facing such a disappointment of his own. Perhaps you would just have to wait until his spirits were lifted—even just a little.

But as days passed and time got away from you, Christmas Day crept closer and closer, and Mason’s mood didn’t seem to be improving at all. You did everything in your power to cheer him up— bought him little treats and left them with notes for him to find, sending sweet little text messages throughout the day to let him know how proud you were of the hard work he was putting into recovering. You even went so far as to take a couple days off of work to make a long weekend for yourself and spent the time off pampering him with a bit of a spa weekend as best you could.

And though he always expressed his appreciation for your efforts, the smile he gave you was all too forced, and you knew he was still hurting inside. He had apologized to you a few times now for “being a right grump,” afraid he would ruin your excitement for Christmas time— and after that, you just didn’t have the heart to tell him that someone had already beat him to it.

So you had resolved to keep it to yourself. He just didn’t have to know, and you decided that was for the best. It tore you up inside to keep something from him, but you told yourself that it would be for his own good, allowing him to focus on his time with his own family instead of on comforting you.

For the next days, you carried the secret around like a weight sitting on your chest, feeling a small pang of grief each time you remembered that you wouldn’t be seeing your family. But you did your best to keep those feeling under wraps, so as not to worry Mason.

It was only 2 days before Christmas, when Mason had decided to stay at yours for the night and you slid under the covers behind him, pressing your chest up against his back ad tangling your bare legs with his. Many months ago, Mason had confessed that he liked to be the little spoon when he was feeling a bit more vulnerable. And after his most recent injury a couple weeks ago, it had become a staple in your nighttime routine with him. You loved the feeling of cuddling up close to his warm skin, and you couldn’t help from pressing a barely-there kiss to the base of his neck, sending a gentle shiver down his spine.

Tucking the blankets in around the two of you, you settled into a comfortable silence, and Mason intertwined his fingers with yours, where your hand was resting on his tummy, giving it an appreciative squeeze.

“Were you able to wrap everything up at work today?” Mason asked softly, knowing you had a few things you needed to get done before taking a few days off for the holidays. You felt a warm feeling in your chest at the fact that, no matter what he was dealing with, Mason always made an effort to ask questions about you—about your day, your work, the friends you had seen recently.

“I was,” you smiled, peppering a couple kisses across his shoulders, overwhelmed with the need to show him a bit of love while you held him in your arms. “Ari helped me get the last of it finished right before I had to leave, so I don’t have to worry about a thing over the break.”

“Good, good,” he breathed, and you could tell he was enjoying the attention you were giving him. “Your parents get in tomorrow, right? Are you excited to see them?”

Your breath hitched in your throat before you could stop it and you froze, trying to come up with a good enough excuse to not talk about the situation.

But you hesitated a moment too long, and Mason caught on easily to the way you’d tensed up behind him.

“Y/N? What is it?” he tried to turn in your grasp as he spoke, but you only held him tighter, pressing your face between his shoulder blades so he couldn’t see the tears that had sprung to your eyes before you had a chance to stop them.

He wriggled in your grasp for a moment, but you knew it was no use, allowing him to pry your arms off his waist so he could turn over and look at you. Your hands flew to your face, covering it as some last-ditch effort to conceal your emotions, but it was far too late, and you knew that.

“Y/N, angel…” You felt Mason’s fingers gently pull at your wrists, and you were left with no choice but to stare back at him with tear-filled eyes. “Talk to me, what’s going on?”

Mason’s brow was furrowed with concern as he reached out to stroke a thumb across your cheek. His mind was reeling, trying to figure out what had you so upset.

“Is it your parents?” You could only manage a nod in return.

“They’re not coming?” Another nod. You watched Mason’s face fall in genuine hurt for you.

“Again?” It was barely a whisper when he said it.

With that single word, it was like the dam had burst, and all of the emotions that you had been holding back for weeks sprung to the surface. You curled yourself into Mason’s chest, no longer able to think about anything other than seeking a bit of comfort in his arms. His hands slipped under your shirt, tracing circles and gentle lines across your skin the way he knew you loved, as he could do nothing else but listen to your soft cries.

It didn’t take long for you to quiet to soft sniffles, and Mason pulled back slightly from you, cradling your jaw in his hand so you’d look up at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mason did his very best not to sound accusatory, but in his mind, he couldn’t think of any reason why you would have kept this from him.

It took you a moment to respond, still working to calm your breathing. “Well, they... um, they told me about the night before the derby,” you started. “And before the game, I didn’t want to distract you, so I decided to wait. But then, you got injured, which meant you already had so much on your plate, and you seemed so down that I didn’t think I could possibly bring myself to add even more to it, so…”

“So you’ve been carrying this around for the last couple weeks all alone?” Mason finished for you. You shrugged in response. He could only hold you a little bit tighter, heart clenching in his chest at the thought of you being so weighed down by these emotions without him even knowing.

Mason couldn’t help but feel like kicking himself over the way he had been wallowing for the last week or two since his injury. He had been so caught up in himself that he hadn’t even noticed how you were feeling, and it made him appreciate everything you had done for him just that much more. Despite facing your own disappointment, you had put all your energy into cheering him up and making him feel better.

Gone was the feeling of self-pity over his recently poor luck with injuries at the United, and taking its place was the warm feeling of gratitude—for you and the way that you loved him so deeply, so sacrificially.

He pressed a few kisses onto your forehead, the gears in his mind turning as he thought of ways to make you feel better—one in particular stood out as the obvious choice among the rest.

“Tomorrow morning, I’ll help you pack a bag so you can stay at mine for a few days,” Mason stated matter-of-factly. “My family will all be arriving in the evening and they’ll be so happy to see you—Mum and Jazz especially, they were so disappointed when I told them you wouldn’t be spending Christmas morning with us.”

“Mason, I couldn’t,” you retorted, but Mason had expected this resistance from you. “I sprung everything on you so last-minute last year, I can’t—“

“You didn’t spring anything on me last year,” Mason shushed you softly. “I invited you. And better yet this year, you already know just how stubborn I am, so you know this conversation isn’t ending in any way other than you agreeing to go home with me tomorrow.”

Mason’s soft smile was infectious, the sides of your mouth curling upward as he awaited your response.

“You are quite stubborn…” you giggled quietly.

“So is that a yes?”

A beat more of silence passed before you replied with a soft “okay,” and Mason burried his face in your neck, squeezing you tightly in excitement and you couldn’t help but giggle at him, your mood instantly lifted. The hurt and disappointment was still there, but it was significantly dimmed by the knowledge that you would get to be a part of the Mount Christmas for the second year in a row.

Mason finally pulled back after scattering several sloppy kisses across the base of your neck, his eyes sparkling as he propped himself up on an elbow and hovered his face over yours. His eyes darted around your face, a look of unmistakable excitement on his features as he took you in.

“You have no idea how excited I am to spend Christmas with you again,” he whispered, his nose brushing yours.

You cradled his jaw with your hand, your eyes going misty as you thought about how lucky you were to have him in your life, through all of the ups and downs.

“Thank you, Mason.” Your voice was so quiet, if he hadn’t been right up next to you, he might have missed it.

His only reply was to press his mouth to yours, trying to pour all of his love into a single kiss. You pulled him closer by the back of his neck, pressing your body as close to his as you could manage, feel safe in the warmth of him.

After a moment, he pulled away, both of you blushing and breathless—nearly a year together, and every kiss still felt as thrilling as your first.

“C’mon, let’s get some sleep,” he said, pressing one last quick peck to your lips. “We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

You nodded, smiling at the thought of the holiday celebrations you had in store; no longer dreading the time spent alone, but excited to get to see all of Mason’s family again.

The two of you settled underneath the duvet, holding each other close. And with the promise of a family-filled few days of Christmas joy, you both got the best night of sleep you’d had in weeks.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next day passed in an absolute whirlwind of events. The two of you had a bit of a lie in, sleepily discussing your plans for the next few days until long after the sun had risen. Lying in Mason’s arms, tucked warmly under the covers, you felt remarkably more settled than you had the day before. As you lay there with your eyes closed, listening as Mason softly explained that his family would be arriving later that afternoon, you basked in the feeling of his warm skin against yours—your legs tangled together, you chest pressed up against his, and his fingertips trailing lightly over your back.

Before it got too late, the two of you decided it was time to get up, sharing a quick shower together before Mason helped you pack a bag for the next days and the two of you were off to his house, with a brief stop at the store to pick up a couple last-minute necessities.

Late in the afternoon, Mason’s family arrived, and the Christmas Eve celebrations were in full swing. The house was full of life (and noise) as Summer and Mila ran around and Mason’s parents and siblings got their things settled into the guest rooms. A magical trip to Lapland’s made for the perfect evening and left the girls exhausted, so it was fairly easy to put them down once you had all made it home.

Once everyone was in bed, you and Mason got to work setting out all of the presents that had been carefully hidden in Mason’s large closet. Mason watched with admiration as you carefully arranged the gifts and filled everyone’s stockings with the little bits and treats you had picked up over the last few weeks. The care with which you sorted everything left him feeling warm inside, thinking once again how thankful he was to have you with him on Christmas Eve.

And once Mason had finished the glass of milk and taken a large bite out of the cookie the girls had left out for Santa, you and Mason headed up to bed for the night, buzzing with excitement over the next days festivities.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It felt like your eyes had only just slipped closed when you were awoken abruptly by the sound of the bedroom door being flung open and banging into the wall.

“Uncle Masey! Uncle Masey!” a tiny voice shouted, sprinting over to the bed as fast as her little legs would carry her.

As you rolled onto your back, you spotted Summer scrambling up onto the mattress, crashing onto Mason’s chest as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Uncle Masey, wake up!” Summer shouted again, exasperated. She took hold of one of his arms and shook as hard as she could manage.

“What is it, sweetie?” you feigned confusion, as you tried to get Summer’s attention, giving Mason an extra moment to wake up.

“It’s Santa…” she whispered, eyes wide. “He came. Here.”

“What?” you dropped your mouth open, mimicking her look of surprise. “You’re kidding.”

“He really did! He really did! Come and see!” Summer wriggled off of Mason’s chest, leaping to the carpeted floor and padding out of the room, leaving the door wide open as she went.

You rolled onto your side to face Mason, giggling at his furrowed brow and squinty eyes, clearly wishing he could just sleep for a couple more hours.

“You’ve got to get up,” you beamed at him, splaying a hand across his chest as you leaned forward to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t you hear? Santa’s been.”

Mason’s heart swelled with affection for seemingly the hundredth time in the last few days as you bent forward to press a proper kiss to his lips. For a moment, he got lost in the feel of you, hoping the two of you could spend just a few minutes more together in bed. However you, painfully aware of the open door behind you, pulled back and dropped one last kiss to his forehead. Slipping quietly out of bed, you popped to the bathroom to brush your teeth before you and Mason went downstairs to join the rest of his family.

The silver lining of Mason’s recent injury was that he didn’t have to train on Christmas morning. While most of his United teammates would be reporting for one last session before the Boxing Day matches, he was settling down on the couch next to you, surrounded by his family as Tony began handing out the stockings to everyone.

Much to your surprise, yours was no longer hanging on the mantel empty, as you had left it the night before. Instead, as you took it from Tony, you pulled out a variety of face masks, bath salts, and pleasantly scented soaps. You looked over at Mason, whose face held a satisfied smirk—he must have snuck back down last night after you had gone up and filled your stocking without you knowing.

You whispered a soft “thank you,” tucking your face into his neck as he squeezed you into his side. It meant more to you than he’d ever know that he always went out of his way to make sure you were looked after—even in small ways, like making sure to fill your Christmas stocking.

The morning continued, and Summer had declared that she should be the one handing out gifts this year. So, with a Santa hat atop her head, she ran back and forth between the tree and everyone else, dropping the presents in everyone’s laps before returning to the tree to grab another.

She approached you with a small box in her hands, mumbling a soft, “here you go, Auntie Y/N,” before spinning on her heel and returning to the tree.

You froze in shock for a moment— it was the very first time Summer had ever called you that. You cared deeply for the little girl and her sister, and her clear acceptance of you as a part of the family meant a great deal to you. Mason, sitting with one arm behind you on the couch and on resting on your leg, squeezed your thigh as he saw your eyes go misty at Summer’s words.

You sniffled, trying not to cause a scene by getting too emotional as you carefully tore the wrapping paper off of the small box. Inside, you found a gold necklace with a round pendant engraved with your birth flower and Mason’s intertwined. One the back, the date that the two of you had met was engraved—above it, the words Forever and Always.

“Oh, Mase. You shouldn’t have,” you exclaimed, tucking your head into his neck once again. You could feel his chest shake with laughter as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you close.

“It’s perfect, Mason. I love it. Thank you.” You had pulled back to look at him, and you watched as a warm blush spread across his cheeks.

You spent the rest of the morning with your head on Mason’s shoulder, watching with enthusiasm as everyone opened their presents. You received several other thoughtful presents from Mason and the rest of his family—a tote bag you had mentioned wanting to get from Jazz and her husband, a wax warmer and a few different sweet-smelling wax melts from Tony and Debby, among others.

It really was the perfect morning, spent curled up in Mason’s side, and you felt so full of love for your boy and the family that had made him who he was today.

Eventually, all of the presents had been opened, and Summer and Mila sat on the floor with their new toys spread across the room. Before long, everyone started to make their way into the dining room to eat the breakfast that Debbie had apparently been up cooking before anyone else was even awake.

It was a feast beyond comparison, the table covered in cinnamon rolls, bacon, fried eggs—everything a hearty breakfast could possibly need. And as everyone tucked in, you were sure to tell Debbie how good everything tasted.

Once everyone had finished, you and Mason cleared the table and loaded everything into the dishwasher, deciding to deal with the rest later that afternoon. Lewis was working on setting up their traditional Christmas Day movie, having decided on “It’s a Wonderful Life” over breakfast.

With everything sorted and the leftovers in the fridge, you turned to go join the rest of Mason’s family in the living room when you felt Mason’s hand on your wrist, spinning you around and pulling you into his chest.

Mason’s eyes sparkled as he looked down at you.

“Huh, would you look at that…” Mason spoke with an air of mischief. “Mistletoe.”

For a moment you were struck by confusion, seeing as the two of you were standing in the middle of his kitchen with no real place to hang mistletoe. But your confusion was short-lived as you looked up to see Mason’s hand dangling a sprig of mistletoe above your heads.

A grin broke out on your face as you quirked an eyebrow at him, trying to shoot him an unimpressed look, despite the butterflies that were swarming in your tummy.

“We wouldn’t want to break tradition now, would we?” Mason tried again. “It’s probably bad luck… or something like that…”

By now the two of you were grinning like fools at each other, and you couldn’t believe your luck at having Mason in your life. You slipped a hand onto the back of his head, tangling your fingers into his hair as you brought his face down to yours.

Mason pressed his lips to yours in a delicious kiss as your eyes slipped closed. Mason dipped his tongue cheekily against the seam of your lips, and you pulled back slowly before things could get too heated in the middle of his kitchen.

“I’m so in love with you,” you breathed, nudging his nose with yours.

Mason beamed, eyes sparkling as he looked down at you. “I’m so in love with you,” he repeated your words. “And even though it isn’t how you planned your Christmas to go, I’m glad you’re here today.”

“Thank you, Mason,” you breathed. You must had said it a thousand times over the last couple of days. “For this, for everything. I’m so grateful for you. I love the way you love me.”

Mason pressed his lips to your forehead, holding your body close to his. “You don’t have to thank me, angel. I love getting to love you. It’s as easy as breathing for me.”

Your tummy did a somersault at his words, and you couldn’t help but press one more, quick kiss to his lips.

“You ready to go watch this movie?” Mason asked, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers with his. “You’re not allowed to fall asleep this year.”

You couldn’t stop the giggle that fell from your lips as he pulled you toward the living room, as you spoke. “Now for that, I can’t make any promises.”

tag list: @hischierswhore @thoseboysinblue @lovelynikol7 @swimmingismywholelife @masonsrem @brasiliangp @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @notsoattractivearenti @chilwellsancho @sid-vii @captainpulisic

[piftamere]

something real (wc : 1.4k)

secret santa fic for @eussstasss as part of the hq x reader secret santa by @/lale-txt, i hope you'll like it! i had fun writing it <3

synopsis : she asks her dear best friend, Suna Rintarou, to accompany her to her family Christmas party as her pretend boyfriend, too embarrassed to go alone another year. no ulterior motives.

content : suna rintarou x f!reader, fake dating, friends to lovers, fluff

divider by @nectardaddy

Year after year, the questions were the same.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Are you still single?"

"Are you ever going to bring someone home to your family?"

And every time she had to disappoint them, forcing a smile as she replied she wasn’t seeing anyone. She could see their own smiles drop and their faith in her weaken.

This year, she couldn’t take it anymore. Something snapped. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out that she'd have someone accompany her to the family Christmas party.

The moment the lie left her lips, she wanted to take it back, but it was too late. Relief washed over her parents’ faces, her mother rushing to the phone to give her grandmother the big news.

She couldn’t shatter their happiness now, not when she’d seen how much it meant to them.

A few weeks later, she was slumped over her best-friend's couch, face buried in a pillow.

"I still haven’t found anyone," she whined, her voice muffled as she groaned in frustration. "It’s tomorrow."

Suna leaned against the armrest, amused. ''You sure you tried everything?"

"Yes, everything."

"And now you’re giving up?"

"Yup." She replied, defeated.

"So… no Christmas?"

"Nope."

As she was blocking out the mocking snicker Suna was making, an idea struck her. A desperate, ridiculous idea. She turned her head just enough to look at him, eyes pleading, peaking over the pillow.

"Wait…" she began hesitantly. She sat up, clutching his arm. "Do me this one favor. I’ll owe you forever. Please."

He raised an eyebrow, almost sure he knew what she meant, his lips stretched into a mischievous grin. "What?" He wanted to hear her say it.

"Be my fake boyfriend. Please."

"Why not just tell them you broke up with your imaginary boyfriend?"

She groaned again, burying her face in his sleeve. "I can’t. I can’t deal with the pity stares or them thinking i made it up. Please Rin, pretty please."

He wanted to reply that technically, she did make it up, but her desperation must have struck a chord because, after a beat of silence, he sighed, "Fine."

If she’d had more time to think it through, maybe she’d have asked why he agreed so quickly. Maybe she’d have wondered about that smirk on his face. But with the clock ticking, she ignored the signs.

She was going to regret this.

The next day, they were standing on the doorstep of her childhood home, a freshly bought pie in her hands. She glanced at the front door, now having second thoughts, her stomach tying itself into knots.

As Suna reached for the doorbell, he suddenly paused, his lips letting out a mischievous chuckle. "Wait a sec," he said, stepping closer.

She shot him a curious look. "What are you doing?"

Without answering, he slipped his arm casually around her waist, pulling her snug against him. She flinched, nearly dropping the pie.

"Relax," he said with a playful wink, his smirk slightly infuriating. "We have to sell it, you know?"

His hand rested comfortably on her hip, like it was the most casual thing ever. She swore she could feel the warmth of his touch burn her skin through the thick fabric of her coat.

Her cheeks flushed, both from embarrassment and the sudden realization of how committed he was to the whole thing. "You’re enjoying this way too much," she muttered under her breath.

"You begged me for this, remember?", Suna replied nonchalantly, reaching for the doorbell with his free hand.

Before she could respond, the door swung open, revealing her mother who practically dragged them inside.

It felt surprisingly good to walk around the house, introducing her "boyfriend" to her relatives. The warm smiles, the approving nods and whispers. She'd almost fall for the act herself.

If only she could ignore the strange, fluttery feeling settling in her stomach every time she looked at him.

At dinner, he played his part a little too well. In the name of being believable, his hand lingered on hers as it rested on the table. She had a hard time getting used to the soft squeeze of his fingers when he leaned back in his chair, cracked a joke with her father or complimented her mother's cooking. She blinked, taken aback by how effortlessly he seemed to fit into her family, like he’d been part of it all along.

She caught herself stealing glances at him, feeling peculiarly shy at this unfamiliar, charming side of him.

After dinner, they gathered around the Christmas tree to exchange gifts. The soft glow of the lights, the scent of pine in the air and the laughter of her family made this moment feel all too real.

Suna turned to her, a small, neatly wrapped box in his hand. She wasn't expecting this. How had he found the time to buy her a gift? She was trying not to read into it.

"Here," he said casually, holding it out to her.

"You got me something?"

"Of course. I’m your boyfriend." he replied with a small grin.

Their fingers brushed as he handed it to her, and for a fleeting moment, their eyes met. Something in his gaze, something warm, playful, and maybe a little too sincere for comfort, made her heart thump loudly against her ribs.

It was becoming harder to remember this was all an act.

She tore her eyes away, focusing on unwrapping the gift in an attempt to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks. Inside was a delicate bracelet, a thin chain with a beautiful charm that shined faintly in the tree's glow.

"So? Do you like it?" He asked, watching her reaction intently. He almost sounded nervous.

She nodded, "Rin… It’s beautiful. I didn’t think-"

"That I had taste? Ouch-"

She sighed and rolled her eyes, a smile still on her lips. "That you'd go this far."

Suna leaned in, his voice dropping just enough for only her to hear. "What can I say? I’m committed to my role."

Carefully, she took it out of the box. She was struggling to put it on, when he took it from her hands.

"Allow me," he gently wrapped it around her wrist and skillfully clasped it. His touch lingered on her skin, longer than necessary, but neither of them moved.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur, but her mind was far away. Every stolen glance at him, every playful touch, only made the knot in her chest tighten even more.

A little lost in her thoughts, she found herself by the window, gazing out at the snow-covered yard as she mindlessly fidgeted with the charm on her bracelet. The calming view was a welcome distraction as she tried to untangle the mess in her mind.

"Look what we have here." Suna whispered, coming up behind her, his voice tinged with mischief.

She turned, slightly startled as her eyes followed his hand pointing to the branch of mistletoe over her head.

"Seriously?"

"I don't make the rules," Suna replied, stepping closer. He shrugged, raising his hands in defeat.

Fed up with how confident he’d been all day, she sighed and tugged firmly on his sleeve. He stumbled forward, caught completely off guard. Now impossibly close, he stared at her, wide-eyed. For the first time since they arrived at her parents’ house, he was dead silent. She couldn’t help but savor the moment of peace.

Maybe for a moment too long, because the surprise was wearing off, a playful glint returning to his eyes. "What? Lost your-"

"Oh shush." she cut him off, her voice firm. Before he could react, she leaned up and kissed him.

His lips were still, as if the shock hadn’t quite worn off. But then he kissed her back, his hand coming to rest on the side of her face. His playful demeanor becoming gentle.

When they finally parted, her cheeks burned. His usually half-lidded eyes glinted with something she couldn’t quite name, something intense, real.

A little breathless, he spoke, "You said you’d owe me forever, right?"

Her brows knit in confusion, her heart still racing. "Yes?"

His lips quirked into a small, almost shy smile. "Go out with me. For real this time."

She stared at him, her mind reeling. And as she looked back on today and their relationship, that always seemed tainted by something a little deeper than friendship, she realized the feeling gnawing at her insides since this morning wasn’t anxiety, it was hope.

And maybe it was time to stop pretending.

[vampireinprada]

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS LOVE

soft!rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings: none, just a cute fluffy christmas story! it is my first story, so that might be a warning within itself 🙂

wc: 761

merry christmas, if you celebrate! happy holidays !!!

——————————

Rafe has been relentlessly asking you what you want for Christmas since the start of the holiday season, and his questions have only increased as the holiday approaches.

You were curled up on the couch in your shared house, reading a novel in a soft, white sweater, your feet tucked up comfortably beneath you. The warmth from the fireplace permeated the room, adding to the cozy atmosphere you’ve carefully crafted for a quiet reading session. 

Just as you turned the page, Rafe leaned over the back of the couch, his face hovering above yours. “Baby, Christmas is almost here. You must know what you want by now,” he whined, his tone playful but persistent.

“I told you, Rafe. I don’t want anything,” you replied casually, lifting the next page of your novel as you prepared to dive back into the story. Rafe let out a soft laugh, and you looked up at him, slightly puzzled, trying to figure out what was so funny. He was still chuckling as he shook his head.

“You not wanting anything is crazy to me,” he teased. “I mean, come on. You can’t expect me to believe that. Miss ‘Rafey, this bag is so pretty. I wan’ it.’ ‘Rafeeeeee, I need these shoes,’” he mocked in an exaggerated manner, grinning at the memory of your past shopping sprees.

As his mocking continued, you finally set your book down, placing it gently on the table in front of you. With a lively sigh, you wrapped your arms around the neck of your beautiful boyfriend, drawing him closer. 

“‘Rafeeeee, I like this ring from Tiffany’s. Can I get it? Rafeeeeee,’” he imitated in a high-pitched voice, causing you to remove your hand from his neck and lightly smack his arm. “Alright, I get it, ya know?” you said with a grin, rolling your eyes. 

“I know you do, baby,” he said, his voice softening as he pulled you back towards him. Without thinking, he slid his firm hands around your waist, a gesture he’d perfected over time. “But seriously, how can ya tell me ya don’t want anything and expect me to believe it?” Rafe asked, a merry smile tugging at his lips.

You were the next to burst into a fit of laughter, unable to contain yourself at how adorable Rafe was being. His persistance was admirable, and quite amusing, so you decided to play along.

“What? What is it, baby?” he asked, his smile lines deepening as he watched with delight at the childlike beauty of your laughter. His eyes gleamed, clearly enchanted by your joy. 

“Well, there is one thing that I want,” you said cheekily, giving him a mischievous look. Rafe’s eyes widened in victory, and he scrambled for his phone, his fingers already tapping away as he prepared to make the purchase.

“See? I knew you wanted something,” he cheered, his voice practically bursting with excitement. He was absolutely eager to spoil you once again. Honestly, he’d buy you a whole island if you so much as hinted at wanting it. 

With a smile, Rafe bent down to meet you at eye level, his phone in hand. “What is it you wanted?” he asked, his tone tender and full of affection. 

You scrunch your nose in the cutest way possible, to Rafe, before pulling him closer and, in a soft voice, said, “Your love. All I want for Christmas is love.” 

Rafe paused, his expression shifting as he absorbed your words. He put down his phone, attention now entirely on you. “Yeah? That’s it?” he asked, a touch of disbelief in his voice. 

You nodded, a bright, eager smile illuminating your face. “That’s it,” you repeated, your heart full. The love between you two was magnetic, something so deep and pure, it almost felt like magic. It was the kind of love that made everything feel secondary. In that moment, Rafe thought—no, knew—he might love you forever. 

Without a second thought, Rafe swept you up in his arms and carried you up the stairs of your shared home. The sounds of your laughter and his heartbeat echoed in the quiet house. ”My love it is, my darling,” he murmured as you both entered the bedroom, the outside world fading away.

He set you gently on the bed, his eyes locked on yours, filled with unspoken promise. “My love you’ll get,” he said, voice low, full of devotion and a tinge of desire.

In that moment, you both knew that all the gifts in the world could never compare to the love you shared.

if you made it to this point, thank you for reading ! i found my thing for the new year i guess 🤭 !!!

[grimsonandclover]

The diner booth is comfortable enough, the red vinyl cracking and exposing veins of yellow foam that have probably soaked years of spilled drinks and dripped sauce into them. You think about it every time you sit on them.

"What," Patrick clears his throat, adjusting himself in the seat opposite you as his eyes glance at fingers that play with a simple gold pendant around your neck, "Do you want to order anything?"

The menu is the same it always has been. Shrimp cocktail nobody ever has or ever should order, cheeseburgers that could send you into a coma, mozerella sticks and onion rings that taste like hollow dough. The food is lackluster but that's never why you came here, not for those. No, Patrick and you would always order-

"Just fries."

He swallows thickly. Patrick always asks, or always did, more out of habit than necessity. It was always a basket of fries split between the two of you here. The only thing that has felt normal to him in a lifetime. Those are the first words you've spoken to him since you'd told him to leave.

How many words ago was that? How many basket of fries lost since? Immesurable.

They're eaten in silence, which had never happened before. Years before, the meal would be filled with chatter and laughter, drama and gossip, bickering and jabs. No smart remarks were launched from one end of the veneered table to the other, no side-long glances or words of praise or scorn. Just the shuffling behind the diner counter as Marta wipes the laminate down and Billy finishes the night's dwindling orders in the kitchen behind. Forks scrape against ceramic, cups clank, someone coughs. Neither of you speak.

Patrick clears his throat for a second time. Looking over through the window beside you, one that faces the snowy parking lot, he asks you a silent question.

"Let's go to mine." You answer, knowing you're sparing him the shame of explaining his situtation if you offered his.

He's sat on your couch while you're on the floor, your head leaning back against the cushion while he crosses his arms across and Patrick props his feet up on your coffee table.

"Fuck, just... I don't know, say something."

You can tell the quiet is stressing him out, it always has. Quiet was either filled with judgement and strain, or it was filled with his ramblings. It never just existed. "Don't know what to say." It's the truth, you don't.

"Well, then... how are you doing?"

You shrug. He's still your Facebook friend, and you know he checks it. According to that, you're thriving.

"Jesus, man..."

Thirteen years has put distance between you, so much so that the invisible string tying you two together must look worn and frayed. It's been hard for you lately, a fact not broadcasted on your Facebook (where the only thing posted there now are updates you'd care for extended family to see). Patrick can see it, though. He saw it the moment he saw you on the court.

Your knuckles are red and scraped like your knees, creases now appear at the corner of your eyes and mouth when you talk and smile or frown, new and old scars litter your shoulder and chest. When you were eleven, the two of you were running in his backyard and you cut yourself on the shin with a jutting out bit of rock on a nearby fountain you'd circled, threatening Patrick that you'd jump in and through it to catch him. He can still see that scar now, skin bare as you sit in your same tennis shorts and tank.

Patrick could smell your sweat and perfume, and feel your hair tickle his thigh, and breathe your air, and see you, but he couldn't hear you. A pack of Camel Blues is pulled from his pocket. Same ones he's always smoked.

You'd scold him for smoking in your apartment, but that's too many words you'd care to spare him. At least the balcony doors are open.

He pulls two out, placing them both between his lips and grabbing the lighter you're suddenly handing him, your empty fingers now given one of the two lit cigarettes. A habit picked up as kids.

The cigarettes dwindle in your novelty ashtray, and now Patrick stands at your front door, pulling a threadbare coat over tired, cold muscle. Your fault for not turning on the heat. You think the years did him good. A part of you hopes they have, one that's lied dormant since it all ended. That part of you is old and sleepy, quiet as it's awoken, but you can still hear it. You really hope he's alright. The stubble looks alright.

He's looking down at his shoes, then yours, then to the golden pendant that he gave you exactly thirteen years ago, then to you.

"You've spoken exactly eleven words to me." Patrick can't look you in the eye, a weak smile on the corner of his mouth as his gaze darts down again. "Almost one for every year."

You hesitate for a moment before you reach up and behind your neck. You almost don't.

Grabbing his hand and pulling his fingers apart, the only contact you've made with him, you can feel the same callouses on warm, distantly familiar skin. His nails are in the same sorry state they've always been, bitten down and beaten for a good thirty-one years. He's confused by what you're doing, and then you're making his heart stop, head spin. When he looks into his palm, he sees the gift.

"Goodbye, Patrick."

[thepixelelf]

neurosurgeon wonwoo x reader x neurologist jihoon warnings: hospital stuff in general. an unnamed child patient in a life-or-death situation. I know how hospitals work even less than I know how frats work. wc: 914

love triangle au requests

[the quiet ones] "He's frozen," you tell Jihoon, eyes set on the operating table and the man at the head of it.

Jihoon lifts his eyes from the monitors to peer through the observation window. Wonwoo isn't exactly frozen like you said, but Jihoon can see the hesitation laced in his fingers. "He can't be."

"He doesn't work on children anymore. Hasn't since..."

When you trail off, an eyebrow rises behind Jihoon's hair. "He told you that?"

"He didn't mean to," you say with a sideways glance. Jihoon can tell he's not supposed to know this about the head surgeon in the operating room, but clearly, the situation is dire. "The assistants in there don't know the procedure like we do, Jihoon."

You both watch Wonwoo as he pauses again. His assistants all look up at him for direction, but he says nothing.

"I have to go in."

Jihoon stops himself from shaking his head. "Spark, you just clocked out after your ninth hour. Plus, you were the one who told me Wonwoo could do this. "

"He can, just--" You clench your fist and stop yourself from arguing. Now is not the time. "Let me take over."

Jihoon looks at Wonwoo again. You must be a prophet -- now, Wonwoo is truly frozen.

"Go," Jihoon orders.

You don't look back.

=

Wonwoo thought he was the only one who knew the emergency alarm connected to the escape stairs was broken. Evidently not, when the sound of the crash-bar doors swinging shut echoes off the concrete stairs. Even though Wonwoo can't see it from his position on the cold floor -- his knees halfway bent to his chest and his head ducked behind his arms -- he hears someone sit down next to him.

"Shouldn't you be overseeing someone?" Wonwoo mumbles.

Jihoon doesn't say anything for a few seconds. Then, he sighs. "Not sure if you've been keeping track, but it's been two hours. Spark is taking a well-deserved nap." His knee bounces in a rapid rhythm. "At least, they'd better be."

Lifting his head, Wonwoo looks at the way Jihoon glares down the stairway. His concern for you reads on his face like irritation, an expression he's seen on Jihoon more and more as of late.

He calls you Spark, and he's called you that for as long as Wonwoo's known either of you. It piqued his curiosity when he first heard it, but he's yet to find out what it means. He's never felt close enough to ask.

Stretching his legs out, Jihoon clears his throat. "The operation was a success -- not that you asked."

"No thanks to me, either," Wonwoo mutters bitterly, dropping his head again. That little girl's smile as Jihoon had walked her through the procedure yesterday shines on the inner sides of his eyelids. "I could've killed her."

"You didn't."

"Only because you replaced me with a real surgeon."

"Jeon." Jihoon's voice beckons Wonwoo to look up at him. "You're confusing real with perfect. There's no perfect surgeon, as much as people pressure you to be one. Real surgeons get tired. Real surgeons have problems. Real surgeons freeze."

Wonwoo curls his lips between his teeth. If he didn't, he wouldn't be able to stop them from shaking. He takes a breath. "They didn't."

You finished the operation Wonwoo couldn't even start.

"Sure, just keep convincing yourself that you're the world's worst fuckup. Keep telling yourself that every other doctor here is perfect and this one mistake makes you inferior. Keep thinking all of us are real while you just -- hell -- faked your way through medical school and six years of surgeries that went just fine. Yeah, that makes sense." Jihoon runs a hand through his cropped black hair. He meets Wonwoo's eyes. "Sounds stupid when I say it out loud, right? I'm not gonna bother pulling you out if you just keep digging yourself deeper."

Wonwoo shakes his head, even though he doesn't know what he's saying no to.

Jihoon lets out another sigh. "But someone will." His knee starts bouncing again. "Spark believes in you, you know? Didn't stop believing you could do it even after they took over. They were exhausted, but they still told me where to find you."

You would know, wouldn't you. Wonwoo feels the corners of his mouth begin to press into his cheeks.

"They're stubborn like that," Jihoon muses, eyes unfocused down the stairway, an unconscious smile on his face.

Something settles at the bottom of Wonwoo's stomach. His lips press between his teeth again. "You like them, don't you?"

Jihoon jolts back to the present, his brows furrowing at Wonwoo. "And you?"

"Me?"

"Are you gonna tell me you don't feel anything for them?"

Wonwoo blinks. His mouth opens, then closes. "I... guess not."

"Then that's another thing we have in common," Jihoon says, oddly calm after hearing the closest thing Wonwoo's said to a confession since high school. "Spark's always telling me we'd be friends if we tried. Calls us 'the quiet ones'."

Slowly, Wonwoo tilts his chin. "...I don't know what you're saying."

"Me neither." Jihoon gets to his feet, turns to Wonwoo, and holds out his hand. "I guess-- I can't say you're not good enough for Spark if the two things I know about you we have in common."

Wonwoo takes Jihoon's hand. "Two things?"

After Jihoon hoists Wonwoo off his ass, a shy grin spreads across his lips. "Quiet and in love. Welcome to the club."

[svnrise-rp]

Kyou was always a bit jumpy first thing in the morning, he had siblings and was always dealing with them so it was no surprise that the other waking him up would cause such a reaction. He smiled as the other took the cup "I didn't think you would be here when I woke up, I also didn't think I would wake up in bed with you but I must have mistakenly crawled into bed in the night" He sipped his own coffee and just watched the other, he was handsome and Kyou had enjoyed their time together quite a bit. He reached over and moved some hair from Avery's face "Honestly I'm glad you are still here...I had such a nice time with you...I always do" he realized how awkward things were since he was acting rather romantic toward the other, he cleared his throat then sat back sipping his coffee "After this...you can go...I'm glad I was able to make coffee for you" he finished his coffee rather quickly then set the cup on the bedside table "Text me when you know when you want to do our uh....date...second date" they had discussed things and how every time they went out together it felt like a date so finally they were calling them dates, it would be their second date this time around because them getting drunk together felt like the first. He checked his phone and then looked over "I had a nice time....I think I should drink a bit less next time though" he laughed softly.

Kyou jolted awake and sat up quickly, he yawned big then rubbed his eyes "What...what?! Is there a fire?!" he groaned then relaxed his body, he went limp his head now on the pillow and not on the man's chest "You scared me...what time is it?" he finally realized what the situation was and sighed "Ah hell..." he looked over "I must have forgot I was sleeping on the sofa and snuck in after going pee..." he quickly got up and stretched a bit "Sorry...I will...coffee" he dashes out of the room and goes to the kitchen to throw together a quick pot of coffee, he had no idea what time it was but didn't seem concerned about it. Once the coffee is made, he brings the other a cup and sat on the side of the bed "I'm surprised I'm not more hungover than this..." he was a bit hungover with a headache and nausea, but he didn't feel as shitty as he normally did so he considered it a win. He sipped his coffee then glanced at the other, he couldn't help but stare at the pretty man that was sitting on his bed with him.

@ang3lmoans

[indifferentinfatuation]

PrapaiSky

LITA parallels - both Phayu and Prapai deciding to do a fake-out before confessing

[a-shade-of-green]

do you think it was weird for mike to go to california and experience his first byers family dinner in months just for it to be far too similar to wheeler family dinners

[otaku553]

A certain first encounter

[presdestigatto]

breaking my silence i fully believe charles is winning in vegas

[polaroid-petals]

Sometimes my thoughts drift into how lonesome and terribly bored Omori must've felt in those four years waiting in a blank room, my heart starts hurting, and I gotta back out again

[ascendent]

op i am in absolute tears, you are an actual angel for this. what you've listed is already so wonderfully detailed and complete, there are a couple* things i wanted to add on to what you've already said:

"they are right next to each other while blanky gets his leg cut off" — not only that but (if i'm remembering correctly from staring at gifs of this scene) they move in unison to hold him down when given the cue. working together in synchrony!!

jopson's promotion scene — when the others are standing to congratulate jopson, fitzjames and le vesconte say "congratulations," irving says "well done," but edward says "good luck," which is different enough from the other congratulations that it stands out. why did he say good luck instead of well done or congrats??? drives me crazy to think about

also about the promotion scene i'm gonna quote from one of the dave k q&as about it because i love so very much how it's phrased: "[…]the pure wattage of Little’s smile when Jopson’s promoted and he’s suddenly kind of laughing.… I don’t think he had smiled at all on the show. So that was just a lovely surprise: it just felt like the whole world opened up in that moment for him." THE WHOLE WORLD OPENED UP IN THAT MOMENT FOR HIM ??? !!!!!

i didn't notice this until you pointed it out but edward specifically saying they have only "two able-bodied lieutenants" in that scene indicates that he sees jopson as a lieutenant despite both the recentness of his promotion and his current disability. don't actually have anything to add here i just think it's great that he's implicitly including jopson in their number — he could have said "only two lieutenants" (referring solely to himself and le vesconte) but he didn't! because he already sees jopson as one of them!!

finally and i think most importantly, "based on their roles [] they must share at least a small amount of familiarity" — i feel like this is so important and so overlooked but like. that is the captain's steward and his first lieutenant! both of them are crozier's right-hand man in different ways (like how crozier and jfj are sir john's second in different ways), it would be weird for them NOT to have some level of proximity to each other. even if a lot of it happens offscreen i think it's reasonable to say that by dint of their respective positions jopson and little OBVIOUSLY must encounter each other a lot and so have a lot in common, and i love all the different moments in the show you've highlighted that emphasize this particular connection.

in short thank you for your service in compiling all of these joplittle interactions, feel truly blessed to have read this 🙏

(*i said "couple" but then i started typing and ended up with several bullet points worth of stuff i wanted to say about joplittle sorry lmfao)

well i finally made it... here's my episode by episode deep dive into every joplittle moment in the entirety of the terror for all of my fellow joplittle freaks out there. i can't draw or write fiction but i CAN be insane about details :) i did my best to edit this so please forgive me if there's typos or things that don't make sense. and a final note before you start reading- i think i make a point to say this in some instances but it bears repeating at the beginning- i could certainly be wrong about some of these observations as they are largely in the background and usually happen very quickly while something more front facing is happening in the scene. i did my best though!

Episodes 1&2- basically nothing, at the dinner scene in episode 1 we can infer that jopson shuffles behind edward at one point but there’s no onscreen proximity or eye contact. neither of them are in episode 2 at all. 

Episode 3: we have one of the joplittle scenes to end all joplittle scenes in this episode. When edward is talking to crozier, blanky, jirv, and hodgson about his fears of netsilik retribution, jopson knocks and walks in the door. When he enters the room, edward immediately stops talking, makes eye contact with him, then starts tugging his jacket down, almost to the point of squirming and fidgeting. Jopson walks into the room making eye contact with edward with the tiniest smile on his face and his eyes are so bright and interesting in this scene. And i think there could be some arguments made that this is just how these two are but i have some additional thoughts- yes edward is an awkward guy but he outranks so many people in that room, jopson most of all, and yet he immediately stops speaking and becomes visibly flustered when jopson walks in. And their eye contact lingers for such a long time before jopson looks to crozier, the person he actually came to address. And just again with how bright jopson’s eyes are and the tiny tiny smile he has on his face when he’s looking at edward that then turns a little more serious when he turns to address crozier. It’s such an interesting scene! 

later on when the terror boys are going across the ice to sir john’s funeral, jopson is walking behind edward… he might be looking at him but it’s very hard to tell so i hesitate to even include that instance. HOWEVER during the camera pan when crozier is reading sir john’s eulogy, we see jopson looking up at one point, and then his gaze briefly comes down to the person directly in front of him… which is edward. 

Episode 4: When crozier is sitting in the dark drunk and depressed and probably listening to the cranberries and jopson comes in, the script says he shows somebody down the hall five fingers, probably to indicate “give me five minutes”. Since he then says that lieutenant little is asking about the meeting, we can presume they came to see crozier together. 

When jopson is giving crozier the headlines of the meeting, the way he talks about what he knows from edward sounds more like it was from an actual conversation they had vs the other two he mentions- he says “mr reid reports” and “lieutenant irving has what sounds like a pressing issue”- both of these expressions imply that he was doing exactly what crozier says he does- hearing everything. but with edward it’s “lieutenant little is wondering, he says/thinks this this and this”. The language used to describe what he knows about what edward will report on is much more direct and familiar. I think ned and jopson were hanging out before they came to see about the meeting with crozier hehe

In the scene where heather gets his shit rocked it’s very hard to keep track of edward and jopson but there is proximity and it’s very possible a few times that they might exchange glances. It certainly seems that when edward goes below decks to arm the men jopson watches him go. 

Episode 5 ended up being the most fruitful for pretty clear glances and looks that i had never noticed before

when jopson comes in with the tea tray he and edward look at each other the whole time Jopson is walking to the table to set it down

after Jopson says “consider it done sir” edward watches him as he walks out of the room until crozier stops him, then he looks at crozier

Ned could definitely still be looking as Jopson answers crozier, the line of sight is correct and in the script it specifically says that little has to look away from Jopson (not crozier) as they discuss the whiskey because it makes him so sick that this is being discussed right after talking about hornby’s death

A lot of proximity during the Silna and crozier conversation but I don’t think they look at each other.. Jopson might be looking at Edward when he walks in with silna and he might glance at him when he walks past him after setting the tea tray back down but I’m not sure. 

In the script it says that jopson and little exchange a look when crozier says he’ll go to get the alcohol for blanky’s surgery but it looks like it’s him and hodgson looking at each other.. however edward looks at someone offscreen too that would make sense to where jopson is standing at the time. There’s a lot of proximity in that scene where they carry blanky down and set him on the table

Damn that extremely prolonged eye contact when taking the whiskey shots is so interesting too? Especially since it seems like jopson struggles to take the shot.. It seems like he might not drink a lot and that could be for 2 reasons- another callback to historical jopson and him being lashed 30 something times for drunkenness or it could be because of his mother’s addiction which at this point in the story we don’t even know about it. Either one would make sense but if anyone has any ideas please share them

they are right next to each other while blanky gets his leg cut off

In the script it says that jopson brings edward into the room for the meeting with crozier after blanky’s surgery, I believe they are the last two to join but even if not.. interesting for sure.

when crozier stands up to give the whiskey to jopson to pour out, Jopson is looking down but for just a moment before he turns to crozier again he looks at edward

Aaaaaand edward then watches crozier take the last drink of whiskey but then he looks right at Jopson!!!!

When crozier goes to his berth it pans over to Jopson and he eventually looks at ned AGAIN

Ugh I loved this episode because there was truly so much to notice and like it’s there! I need to know why!!

Episode 6: okay we have one of THE joplittle scenes and god fucking bless Liam for his commentary here because there’s just so much to it… like the fact that he’s trying to convey to Edward that things are bad but they will be okay with a single look suggests such a familiarity and closeness and understanding between them because like how would you communicate that with a look to someone that you weren’t on fairly intimate terms with?? (need to make post about other pairs that talk through eye contact in the show, like hickey and tozer). at the very least we have to assume they confide in each other and understand each other to a certain degree and like now we’re slightly straying into delulu land but I love how protective Edward looks when hickey walks over and kinda gets close to jopson lol edward is already watching jopson walk away and he gives hickey this little glare when he realizes hickey is too. also just the simple fact that they were eating together??

When Reid bumps into crozier at carnivale and little tells him to step back he’s looking at jopson and when it cuts to jopson he’s looking back at him

They exchange a glance in the background of crozier reacting to hoar and crispe in the big pot lol

Jopson watches Edward for most of the little clip where crozier is walking away after telling the men to get of the pot

After crozier says they’ll be abandoning the ships and walking Edward looks over at jopson for a long time

When crozier is saying “they are a good people who we can greet as friends” jopson looks over at Edward and looks him up and down twice… that’s 4k babyyyy, that one was crazy

When Stanley sets himself on fire and it cuts to the crowd Edward definitely looks around until he sees jopson in front of him

It’s extremely hard to tell but at one point it looks like ned crozier and jopson are all moving together looking for an exit and ned briefly puts his hand on jopson’s back or at the very least reaches for his back wtffffff

Mmm not sure about this one but in the background of the cleanup scene you can see Edward helping people and it looks like jopson may be with him

Episode 7: ugh the promotion sceeeeene idk what i can say that hasn’t already been said but i will always always always point out that this is the happiest we EVER see Edward in the show, his smile is so huge and throughout the scene he keeps giggling to himself and when he’s still sitting down you can see him kinda do an eyebrow raise thing like “oh my god well I wasn’t expecting that but this is amazing” HE LOVES THAT MAN UUUGH AND THE WAAAAY he looks so fondly at him after he shakes his hand and he just keeps smiling and giggling like everyone is so happy in this scene but Edward is the happiest…

Episode 8: when crozier is yelling at edward for arming the mutiny jopson is turned around watching ned.. Ugh :( 

another shot of jopson turning to look at ned before he looks at crozier in this scene 

eye contact when Edward walks into the tent where Irving’s body is

definitely some potential eye contact when they’re asking hodgson to confirm that hickey lied

jopson watches Edward when he’s explaining why they shouldn’t trust the marines

edward is looking at jopson right before crozier says to find the carpenters

Episode 9: what i believe is the last joplittle scene…. god it’s so rough. I feel like jopson is so hurt because he knows his time is coming and i feel like Edward thinks everyone in that tent including jopson will be able to continue to haul south… ugh and then jopson just stares Edward down the whole time when dundy starts talking :(

Episode 10: when edward is walking to the tent to address the men his gaze lingers on the sick tent where jopson is now…

i also find it very interesting that he was all about going south and leaving the sick behind in episode 9 but completely changes his tune now- i know that this has to do with saving crozier but he makes such a strong argument for not leaving the ill behind (although he of course obviously somehow does) that it makes me wonder if jopson had anything to do with that.. like a big difference between when they first made the proposal and now is that jopson could still haul when they suggested it before but he can’t now

And his reasonings point to jopson a lot too- “9 so ill they can’t walk, only 2 able bodied lieutenants” like he was thinking of him!!

and one last fucking thing before I fucking die- edward’s last word “close?” mirrors some of jopson’s first- “we’re close sir”.. They are the last two to be found by crozier, two of the men who saw almost everything and died last… ugh. 

Final thoughts: i will constantly make the argument that when it comes to the terror, absolutely nothing is on accident. Nothing. Some of the scenes i described can certainly be debated but the simple fact is, edward and jopson spend a lot of their scenes together exchanging looks and watching each other. It is safe to assume based on their roles that they must share at least a small amount of familiarity but i think that these shared glances suggest a deeper connection. They seem to be able to communicate seamlessly without ever really speaking to one another and when they aren’t communicating through their eyes, they are still watching each other in shared scenarios. I would love to know more about whether this was just how liam and matthew chose to act their dynamic or if there’s more to say about them. Either way i’m going to keep being delusional about them because i love them together and i think there’s ample evidence to prove that they are more familiar than we might realize

[unnamed-atlas]

Finally finished sweet tooth s3. Having incredibly mixed feelings

[thepoisonroom]

What's the most recent thing you've been obsessed with? x

my girlfriend being, like, a cis woman of they/them experience

[theusernameiwantisntavailable]

So I have officially finished watching the first episode of tdp and I am once again asking Netflix to stop releasing seasons that are like 3 episodes long