#mason mount onsehots

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

more mason mount one shots please! maybe him being a dad?! 🙏🙏

MASON MOUNT ONESHOT - ONLY GOING TO BE ONE PART

NOT MARRIED

( WARNINGS: mentions of vomiting, swearing, Dad!Mason, fluff )

word count: 4.2k

Work parties were almost always a disaster waiting to happen. You mix alcohol with overworked, sleep-deprived employees? It’s bound to end badly one way or another.

And a friend with food poisoning wasn’t helping either.

Rachel — the only person you could really, really get along with and tolerate the most in your office — had her head down the toilet 15 minutes into the party. Apparently it was from a dodgy salmon she had for lunch.

So, being the good friend you were, you abandoned the post near the exit of the floor, and followed Rachel to the toilet, picking up the phone that had fallen out of her bag when she collapsed on the tiled floor and vomited in the toilet.

You’d been holding her hair back for the last fifteen minutes, still able to feel the pumping bass of the music from the main floor vibrating in the walls, and the chatter of your colleagues. There were a few other girls in the toilets as well, wine drunk and taking photos of themselves in the mirrors, barely able to walk in a straight line without stumbling too much.

The bathroom itself was rather clean; and for that you were glad. Your knees were aching from kneeling but you knew you couldn’t complain. Rachel had been doing exactly the same, only with the added trouble of vomiting and stomach cramps. Wisps of hair were glued to her forehead through the thin sheen of sweat, and you’d had to persuade a non-drunk wanderer to fetch a cup of water just to ensure she didn’t pass out from dehydration.

Rachel collapsed against the wall of the cubicle, breathless and groaning in pain.

“This is it,” she moaned, taking a sip of cold water, “I’m dying.”

“Defeated by a slab of fish.” You joked, rifling through your own handbag and pulling out your phone.

Rachel laughed but the simple action caused her to place her hand on her stomach.

“Don’t make me laugh.” She whined, closing her eyes.

You searched through your contacts, and once finding the person you were looking for, you clicked the call button, before lunging forwards to catch Rachel’s hair as she threw up again.

It took a while, but once she’d settled down again, you picked up your phone, lifting it to your ear.

“Hello?” You asked, furrowing your brows when you heard a slight rustle on the other end of the phone.

“Hi,” a breathless but familiar voice sounded, “Are you okay? It sounded like you were being sick.”

“Oh, I’m fine, but Rach got food poisoning—shit, Mase you’re on speaker now.” You said, placing your phone on the floor as Rachel experienced another wave of sickness.

“Is Mummy sick?” A small voice echoed through the line, and you heard Mason reassure your son, whispering that you were fine.

“He didn’t hear me swear did he?” You asked, slightly concerned that your son would pick up in the language used and think it appropriate. Five year olds were very impressionable with the words they heard.

“No, he heard me ask if you were alright, that’s all,” Mason answered, a grin on his lips at your distressed voice.

“Can you do me a favour?” You questioned, pressing your lips together in anticipation.

You knew it involved a lot more faffing on Mason’s part, but you had no money on your person and Rachel caught a lift with someone else in the office so she was out too.

“Yeah, anything,” he answered without hesitation, bringing a smile to your face.

“Could you come and pick us up? I know it’s Eli’s bedtime, but I don’t have any money and Rach is too sick to walk.” You explained, cringing as another wave hit the base of the toilet.

“I’m puking up my guts here, Mount.” Rach yelled, earning an amused laugh from Mason.

“Yeah, I’ll come pick you up. I’ll take Eli for a quick late night drive on the way too, he might be more willing to sleep later on.”

You nodded, then remembered that Mason couldn’t see you, before voicing your answer.

“Do you need anything before I pack up?”

“Do we still have those sick bags from when we went to Monaco?” You asked, having to yell when someone opened the door to the toilets, letting in the booming sound of music.

“Yeah, I think they’re in the twirly cupboard...hey, Buddy, I need you to pick your pajamas, okay? Whatever you want...I’ll get it for you, no problem.” Mase chatted to your son, some of the conversation drowned out by the intensity of the sound; another group of rowdy drunks seemed to have decided to invade the bathroom.

“Just the sick bags?” Mason asked, foraging through the bottom of his old sports drawer, the phone tucked tightly between his shoulder and cheek, with his other arm holding onto Eli, letting him pick which shirt he wanted.

“Maybe some baby wipes and a bottle of water?” You suggested, taking the phone off speaker and placing it against your ear as Rachel let out a breath, her side pressing into yours with exhaustion; being unable to support herself properly.

“Yeah, no problem. I’ll be there in about 20 minutes.” He replied, picking up a few last bits for Eli, before sliding his shoes on.

“Thank you,” you sighed, feeling the anxious edge melt away at the prospect of help arriving soon.

“I love you...bye.”

“Bye--”

“Hey, say it.” He insisted, and you closed your eyes, your head thudding against the wall of the cubicle.

“I really don’t--”

“For the sake of our child?” He said, and you knew you couldn’t exactly get out of not saying it when he pulled the Eli card.

“I love you too.” You relented, rolling your eyes as you heard him let out a quiet yell of triumph.

“Ok, I’ll see you soon.” He said, and you heard Rachel huff a laugh from next to you, the echo of the phone still being heard.

“Bye.” You ended the call and as soon as you removed the phone from your ear, Rachel took the opportunity to speak up.

“Coming from someone who’s just...you know? You two are sickening.” She said, raising her eyebrows with a tired smirk, “But I love it.”

“You must really be out of it if you’re saying shit like that,” you said, breathing a laugh.

“Of course I’m out of it, I’ve been barfing for the past...I don’t know, hour?” She asked, pulling a face.

You winced, and at your expression, she turned to you with a questioning look.

“Try 17 minutes,” you offered, shrugging.

“Fuck off.” She muttered, her eyes wide with disbelief.

The rest of the time waiting, Rachel spent drinking the water from the cup and mouthing the words to the songs from the main floor. She seemed to be a lot better, but you had a sneaking suspicion that it was because her body had nothing left to give, and you could see the exhaustion slowly intensify as her eyelids began to droop.

It wasn’t until the door to the toilets banged open that she snapped her head up, swaying slightly as she succumbed to a bout of dizziness.

“Y/N?” A voice whispered, the sound of it ringing across the now empty bathroom stalls.

You reached up and slid the bolt across the lock of the door, and it swung open with a creak, the noise causing Mason to turn his head in the direction of the sound.

You stuck your head out, smiling in greeting as his footsteps got closer.

“What have you done to Eli?” You asked, noticing the 5 year old wearing one of Mason’s old Chelsea jerseys. It was so large on him that it looked as if Mason had had to tuck the bottom of the shirt around Eli’s legs like a blanket to prevent him getting caught in it.

There was a pair of large black headphones covering Eli’s ears, and a previously unused eye mask hiding his eyes and from the way his arms were slung over Mason, clutching to his shirt on the back, it was obvious the child was fast asleep.

“He fell asleep halfway here and I didn’t want to leave him in the car so I found these old noise cancelling headphones in the boot…here.” He explained, passing you the brown paper bag for Rachel.

You thanked him, before standing up in the cubicle, gripping Rachel’s hands that she offered, and pulling the blonde up onto her feet. She stumbled, blinking rapidly and you caught her by the shoulders.

“You good?” You asked her.

“I think so.” She said, and she took the bag off you with a grateful smile.

You slung her arm over your shoulder, ignoring Mason’s attempts at getting you to switch roles so he was supporting Rachel, and you vaguely heard him mutter something about ‘stubborn women in my life’ and ‘don’t know why I bother’ but the sounds were quickly drowned out by the music in the main room where the unofficial official party was taking place.

Drunk, overworked employees covered every square inch of the place. There were a few fallen asleep on the tables, some stumbling on the dance floor, limbs flailing as they attempted to coordinate their bodies in movements akin to dancing, but the alcohol in their system seemed to be preventing that. Some were sitting at the bar area, casually sipping on pints of beer or steaming mugs of coffee, and you noticed your boss at the top of the room, standing next to the DJ desk, seemingly keeping watch like a teacher would at a school disco. They were extremely sober and the unimpressed upturn of the nose as they watched the people try to ‘dance’, the very embodiment of displeasure painted on their face.

You ducked your head, avoiding their stare because you knew that a limp Rachel with her head in a bag wasn’t going to paint the reality clearly, and so you tapped Mason’s back in an attempt to hurry him along the other side of the room to leave the building altogether.

“How is Eli not—” Rachel hiccuped, “waking up?”

“He has a habit of being able to sleep through anything and everything,” Mason shouted over the music, breathing in a fresh breath of air once the doors slammed shut behind you.

“I wonder how you figured that out,” Rachel muttered under her breath, and you rolled your eyes not having the heart to argue with her at that particular moment in time.

The four of you wound your way through the car park, dodging the group of smokers lingering outside the building, and making your way to Mason’s car.

It was a fairly new one and you knew he was going to be slightly anxious at the prospect of a ticking time bomb of sickness sitting in his new seats, but Mason being Mason, you also knew he probably wouldn’t say anything in complaint.

He unlocked the car, Rachel letting out a wolf-whistle — or what she thought sounded like one — as her eyes raked upon the sleek shine of the body.

“Leather seats?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at Mason as he shut the door on Eli’s side after having fastened him into the car seat.

“Yeah.” He nodded, going to Rachel’s other side, his arm slung around her back, fingers tracing your sides as you both moved to open the front door.

“It’s probably for the best, to be honest. It’ll be easier to wipe any vom up that way.” Rachel whispered, and you pursed your lips trying to hold back the laughter, but one look at Mason’s shocked face nearly had you breaking the facade.

“She has a point.” You agreed, fastening her seat belt for her, ensuring it was tight enough.

“Oh, I know,” Mason shut the door with a grin, “I just didn’t expect her to say it.”

“You get used to it after a while,” you said.

Mason opened the next door for you, and you smiled in thanks. Before you could sit down, however, he frowned, grabbing your wrist and raising his eyebrows.

You sighed, leaning over the door to press a kiss to his lips. Once he seemed happy with the attention, he offered a cheesy grin, and you rolled your eyes, hiding your smile behind your hand as you settled yourself into the car.

As soon as he’d put the engine on and put his seatbelt on, Rachel spoke up.

“You two are the grossest married couple I’ve ever met.”

You shared a look with Mason, and Rachel noticed, twisting in her seat, her gaze flicking between you both with narrowed eyes.

“What the—” she glimpsed a sneak at Eli, of who was still sound asleep, before whispering, “fuck?”

You shrugged, and Mason pretended to keep his eyes on the road.

“You’re not married?” She asked, eyes wide with disbelief.

“No,” you answered honestly, not seeing the fuss.

“What about the rings?” She directed the next question at you, and you lifted your hand round the side of her chair.

“Engagement ring and my Great Grandma’s wedding ring.”

“What? So you’re engaged — to Mason—”

“I hope so.” He muttered, earning a flick to the ear.

“—But you still wear a wedding ring? How does that work?”

“We’re in no rush to get married, but I wear the wedding ring because it’s…y’know, a family heirloom—”

“And you just so happen to wear it on your wedding finger?”

“Yeah, I mean…no harm done, right?”

Rachel dropped your hand, “No harm.” She agreed.

It was quiet for a while as you leant back in your seat, your hand reaching out to move some strands of hair from Eli’s forehead absentmindedly.

The car rolled to a slow stop and you looked up, noticing you were in Rachel’s neighbourhood. You unclamped your seat belt and climbed out of the car, helping Rachel do the same and you aided her in walking to the front door.

After about 10 seconds of knocking continuously, Rachel stepped back, seeing a shadow move behind the door, before it swung open to reveal the sight of her ‘roommate’, who looked both confused and concerned at her earlier than anticipated arrival and her state.

“What—” they started, looking at you as Rachel strode into the house, trying to run up the stairs to go to the toilet.

“Bad salmon apparently,” You informed them, “food poisoning. She’d been throwing up for about 20 minutes. She hasn’t in a while though so she might—”

You were interrupted by the sound of retching, and you nodded slowly, pointing upstairs.

“Point made, I’ll leave you to it.” You laughed, before saying goodbye and making your way back to the car, this time sitting in the front.

“She throw up again?” Mason asked, pulling away from the house.

You nodded, sighing in relief as you leaned back in the seat.

It took just under ten minutes to drive the rest of the way home, the quiet hum of the radio echoing in the background.

You went to unlock the door and take your shoes off as Mason brought Eli inside, who was still fast asleep, and it was times like that you really envied the way he could sleep through anything.

You took him off Mason and made your way up to his room, slowly slipping off the headphones and eye mask as you did, silently laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

But despite all of that, you still thought Eli was one of the cutest kids you’d ever seen. With his big brown eyes and his hilarious incapability of having neat hair, he was gorgeous to you. You’d pointed that out to Mason, but he’d just shaken his head, adamant that it was because Eli took after him in both of those aspects. You’d pointed out that Mason had neat hair, and he’d responded by ruffling it up.

The Chelsea shirt going past Eli’s feet certainly didn’t help the feeling of wanting to melt to the floor because that gesture of wanting to wear Mason’s old shirts was too cute.

You kissed him on the forehead after tucking him into his sheets and you made your way into your room, seeing that Mason was already sprawled out across the bed, pyjamas on and the TV on in the background.

“Hi,” he said, offering a grin as you walked into the room.

“Why did you let Eli wear one of your shirts? It’s too cute.” You groaned, jumping on the bed and turning your head to Mason.

“He chose it,” he laughed, rolling on his side, “really makes you wonder who he got the idea from in the first place.” He said, nodding over to the chair, another of his old jerseys thrown across the back of it.

“That’s different.” You protested.

“How?”

“Because I wear those on match days and when you’re not here…totally different.” You insisted, sitting up.

“No, it’s not—”

“I’m getting changed,” you interrupted, climbing off the bed.

“You just don’t want to admit that you’re wrong and I’m right.” Mason said, folding his arms behind his head in triumph.

“I wouldn’t go as far as to say that—”

“Victory is so sweet—”

“It’s not a victory—”

“Whatever you say—”

“Yeah, whatever I say—”

“You know what this reminds me of?”

“What?”

“Our first date.”

“Um…why?”

“I don’t know,” Mason shrugged.

“If I remember rightly, our first date was a trip to the cinema with a takeaway McDonald’s.”

“I thought we watched Pitch Perfect?”

“We did. After McDonald's. You nearly started crying over Jesse and Becca—”

“I did not!”

“Yes, you did. Because I told you that I was more of a Becca in the way that I shut people out and you started building a tent in your front room out of blankets and then you played ‘I Want to Know What Love Is’ and sang along.”

“I did that?”

“You were very drunk.” You laughed.

“Oh, that makes more sense.”

You sighed, turning off the main lights and getting under the covers in the bed, pyjamas on and a face clean of any makeup. You shuffled closer to Mason, placing your head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around your back.

“What’s this?” You asked, pointing at the TV screen at the foot of your bed.

“Gifted.”

“Oh, I love that movie.”

“You do?” Mason asked, turning his head slightly in your direction.

“Yeah, it’s so good. The one with McKenna Grace, right?”

“Who?”

“The little girl.”

“Oh, yeah.”

There was a comfortable silence, your eyes fixed on the screen. It wasn’t until Mason sighed for the third time that you knew something was up.

“What?” You asked, patting his arm.

“Does it bother you that we’re not married?” He rushed, the words spoken so quickly they seemed to melt into one another.

“You’re not married?” A timid voice echoed from the bedroom door, and Eli waddled in, tripping over the shirt with each step.

His brown eyes were wide with worry and he was rubbing his eyes, trying to dispel the sleep from his system.

Eli didn’t give either yourself or Mason a chance to explain before tumbling back into his own conversation.

“Because Max said his parents aren’t married because they don’t love each other—”

“Hey, hey,” Mason reached around his side of the bed, heaving the little boy on top of the covers and settling him in between the both of you, throwing a guilty look at you in the process, “Elijah, Max only said that because his parents don’t live together anymore, okay?”

“Sometimes Mums and Dads fall out of love. But your Dad and I aren’t one of those people, I promise.” You assured, running a hand through Eli’s already messy hair.

He relaxed slightly, but his brows were still pulled together in confusion.

“I—We can promise you, right now, that we love each other and that we love you—”

“But why does Mummy not say it to you very often?”

You froze, pursing your lips together as you saw Mason’s shoulders shaking with laughter out of the corner of your eye.

“I’d also like to know that,” he inputted, and from his tone Eli could already tell Mason was joking, which caused that identical cheeky grin to appear in his rosy cheeks.

“Well…” you started, glaring at Mason, “Dad is — what is known as — a softie—”

“I am not!” Mason sat up, his eyes still shining with amusement, traces of the precious smile etched on his lips.

“Yes, yes you absolutely are!” You insisted, pointing your finger at him.

Eli threw his head back, letting out an adorable laugh at you and Mason going back and forth.

“I am not—”

“‘Say it back’,” You imitated, trying your best to deepen your voice, much to the amusement of both Mount boys, “that is soft.”

Mason spluttered, his mouth hanging open in mock horror as he turned to Eli, “This is bullying, you hear me? Outrageous.”

Eli did nothing but continued to giggle, and the infectious sound soon had both yourself and Mason in stitches, creasing with laughter.

It took a while for everyone to calm down, in which you wiped the beginning of some tears from the bottom of your eyes. You looked over to Mason after noticing that Eli was significantly more comfortable, and he smiled softly, knowing you were both successful in cheering him up.

“If it makes you feel any better, it bothers me that we’re not married.” Mason blurted, suddenly avoiding your eye contact as he turned an uncharacteristic shade of pink.

As if Eli could sense the sudden tension from the bombshell, he stilled, his eyes flicking between you both.

“It does?” You repeated, a teasing smile on your face as he shrugged.

“Yeah, I mean, we’ve been together, what? Ten years, nearly? Engaged for seven. We’ve put it off long enough.”

You let out a breath, rolling your eyes and casting an ‘I don’t believe it look’ to Eli.

“What was that for?” Mason asked, his lips curling upwards slightly.

“What was that for? Mase, you do know we’ve already planned the wedding, right?”

“No…?”

“We finished planning the wedding nearly a year and a half before Eli, we just couldn’t decide on the date.” You breathed a laugh as he shared a bewildered glance with Eli, who covered his mouth and giggled in response.

“We finished what now?” He said, leaning forwards and pretending as if he missed the whole conversation.

“WE. FINISHED. PLANNING—” you raised your voice, and Eli collapsed into another round of giggles, this time curling into your side.

“Ouch.” Mason winced, “I heard you the first time, but why was I not made aware of this information?”

“You were. Honestly, I forgot myself until you just mentioned it, but all the stuff is in a folder somewhere, we just need to choose a date and hope everything can be booked on time.” You explained, your hand raking through Eli’s hair as he sunk lower into the bed, his eyelids drooping with a sudden bout of fatigue.

Mason chewed his lip in thought, looking at Eli.

“Does the 9th of August sound alright?” He asked, and this time it was your turn to splutter.

“It’s March right now,” you said, and he nodded condescendingly, “we’d have five months to sort everything out.”

“Well done, you know your months.” He said, flashing a sarcastic smirk, and you huffed, rolling your eyes.

“Can we continue this in the morning?” You cast a pointed look at Eli.

“Yeah, of course.” He replied, laying back down and snuggling himself under the covers, letting out a loud yawn as he did so.

You breathed a laugh, and carefully snaked your arm under Eli, lifting him out of your bed and — as carefully and as quietly as you could — tucked him back under the covers in his own room for the second time that night, pressing another light kiss to his forehead before partially shutting his door and making your way back to your room.

“Were you serious about what you said?” You asked, shutting your door and getting back into bed.

Mason took an intake of breath, one arm winding over your waist as he placed his head in the crook of your neck, his eyelashes tickling the skin.

“Dead serious,” he muttered, and you felt around for the remote of the TV, turning it off and placing it back on your bedside table.

“And in 5 months?”

“Whenever, really. Whichever means we can book a massive chocolate fountain and have endless amounts of marshmallows, I’ll be fine with it.” He whispered, and you laughed.

“Chocolate fountain and marshmallows? I can already hear the hyperactive children.” You sighed, gently stroking his arm.

“Who says we were going to invite children?”

“I was talking about the squad.”

“Ah. Right,” he laughed, “the squad...and Eli.”

“You mean we weren’t going to have Eli there anyway?”

“We were always going to have Eli there, weren't we?”

“Not 6 years ago.”

Mason let out a loud laugh, pulling you closer.

“I think we can do 5 months.” You whispered.

#mason mount #money mount #euros 2020 #euros 2021 #chelsea fc #chelsea #england football #euro #football #football player #mason mount x reader #mason mount one shot #mason mount oneshot #mason mount onsehots #mason mount imagine #mason mount imagines #footballer #footballer x reader #england fc #england shirt #oneshot #fluff #imagine

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

Idk if you do one shots inspired in songs, but if so, Would you mind doing one with a Taylor Swift's song which is called "The 1"? With Mason Mount please

< i love taylor so much and i really hope i didn’t completely butcher this, but thanks for the challenge :) >

MASON MOUNT ONESHOT

the 1

( WARNING: little bit of angst and fluff?, swearing )

word count: 1.8k

Things don’t often go as we expect them to, and it’s often incredibly difficult to replan your life around that massive change and adapt your lifestyle so you can — in reality — live again.

It’s like trying to find your feet when you’re in the air — it feels impossible but you know with time you’ll eventually meet the ground again.

That’s what it felt like when you and Mason broke up four years ago.

You were fresh out of uni and at the time, you really thought he’d be it for you, and honestly, so did he. A break up thrown into the mix of having to navigate adult life just seemed to put a huge stopper on all your plans; the holiday you two had both booked for a weekend away in Ireland, the meals out with friends that you had to cancel, and the house showings you were set to attend.

Looking back on your relationship now, you realise it wouldn’t have been the worst thing to end up with Mason. All the years and effort and time put into loving him were — without a doubt — some of the best years of your life (at that stage in life), and did you regret it?

Not one single bit.

But four years is the perfect amount of time to heal, remove the salt from the wound and finish grieving.

But he was here. In real life.

You’d imagined running into him in the supermarket or on a night out with your friends, but a bus stop?

That one was weird. Mainly because you both hated catching the bus with a burning passion.

But it lead to a catch up over coffee.

It was a quiet place, out of the way of the usual lunchtime hustle and bustle in the city, and for that you were grateful. You could hear your own thoughts.

It was awkward at first, you couldn’t keep your eyes from fixating on his figure, his features, because four years can really change a person. He was much broader, his hair a little shorter, but he was still that same Mason you once loved.

You knew that because the first thing he did when he sat down was offer you that cheeky, charming smile that had you hooked from the second you met.

He’d asked how you were, and you answered honestly: you were living well, your best life, and to the fullest. And you knew and he knew that it wasn’t a lie.

He could tell by the smile on your face and the new, sparkling band on your wedding finger. He half expected that blow to sting a little — that you’d found someone and he hadn’t, but he was never one to be bitter whatsoever, at least, not when it came to you.

Instead, he offered his congratulations and the only inkling of regret he held was not being there when it happened.

I guess you never know, never know,

And if you wanted me, you really should’ve showed,

And if you never bleed, you’re never gonna grow,

And it’s alright now.

There was silence after that.

You had one thing on your mind, and you knew by the way he was looking at you that he was also thinking the same thing.

You took a sip of your coffee.

He mirrored your actions, seemingly startled when you placed your mug onto your saucer, the chink of porcelain against porcelain echoing around the small shop cutting through the previous quietness.

“I think I hated you for a while.” You murmured, and if Mason wasn’t leant over the table slightly, he would’ve missed the statement completely.

He nodded in understanding, his brown eyes shining with the faintest hint of guilt.

“I think I was so frustrated with the idea that we just…didn’t work, and I blamed it on you.” You paused, fingers twisting your rings.

He paused, mulling over his words, “And now? Still hate me now?”

You bit back a small smile and met his eyes, “No…I think it’d take a whole load of bad shit to get me to hate you.”

He smiled.

“That’s good to know.”

“I mean, I think it was a long time coming anyway, that break up.”

“It didn’t feel right for a while.”

“No,” you agreed, “as much as it hurt to admit, I think we just failed…as a couple. There was a point where we were just together for the sake of not giving up on the relationship, but with no real reason to continue.”

But we were something, don't you think so?

Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool,

And if my wishes came true,

It would've been you,

In my defense, I have none,

For never leaving well enough alone,

But it would've been fun,

If you would've been the one.

He seemed to ponder over your words, and although he never voiced it, he came to the conclusion that you’d just put into words — perfectly — the itch that had been tickling his brain for the past few years.

“Despite that, you can’t deny that we weren’t something…” he started, before breaking off and shaking his head, as if the mere thought was ridiculous.

“We were something special. I think, had things stayed like they were in the beginning, that…you and I…” you waved your hand, tilting your head, and he nodded in agreement, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Me too. I think…in another life we could have made each other happy. It would have been fun.”

The words ‘if you would’ve been the one’ echoed in your head, and despite the passive aggressiveness of your conscience, you found yourself holding back a smile.

“Water fights in winter and eggs with ketchup…perfect. I’d never have gotten tired of that.” You mused, and he spluttered slightly on his coffee, laughing along with you in what felt like a decade.

I have this dream you're doing cool shit,

Having adventures on your own,

You meet some woman on the internet and take her home,

We never painted by the numbers, baby,

But we were making it count,

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now.

“Then again, who knows? Maybe you’ll fall over in the airport and some lucky person will help you off the floor—”

“You’re about to say something cheesy, aren’t you?” Mason covered his mouth, scrunching his nose in anticipation as you nodded.

“All this nostalgic bullshit has me emotional! I swear, just this once…just this once, and I promise you can laugh about it afterwards.” You swore, holding out your pinkie for confirmation.

He didn’t hesitate, and linked your pinkie.

“You’ll find someone else. It’ll be love at first sight—hey, let me have this moment…maybe love at second sight, knowing you… you’ll go to some really magical place and have the most amount of fun you’re ever gonna have…hikes, skydiving, looking after animals I’m sanctuaries…you’re gonna have the time of your life — like Grey and Swayze.” You sniggered, unable to hold in your laughs at the ridiculous scenarios.

Mason pulled a face, unable to hide a smile.

“Okay, okay. End of story: they’ll be perfect. The Chandler to your Monica or the Robin to your Ted. But, you understand what I’m talking about, right?” You asked, sighing out of frustration.

“You’re saying I’ll find my person.” He concluded, sitting back in his chair.

“Yeah.”

We were something, don't you think so?

Rosé flowing with your chosen family,

And it would've been sweet,

If it could've been me,

In my defense, I have none,

For digging up the grave another time,

But it would've been fun,

If you would've been the one.

“Like…your grandma and grandad. I want what they have.” Mason smiled.

“They’ll be pleased to hear that,” you said, “I don’t think they’re quite over us yet. You were too…you at family meals. They fell in love with you too.”

This time Mason really laughed. Really laughed. He threw his head back and the people working at the counter turned to look at him, fighting their own smiles at his carefree nature.

What you’d said wasn’t even that funny.

“Too me? Thanks, I think?”

“Oh, that’s definitely a compliment. You’re too damn charming for your own good, it’s a problem. You should come with a warning label on your forehead: EASY TO LOVE.”

“That’ll solve a lot of problems.”

There was silence.

It was relieving to say the least.

“That whole conversation was about four years too late.” You said, pursing your lips.

“Better late than never.” Mason murmured, his eyes trained on you.

The pressure on your shoulders was lifted. All the things that needed to be said were said.

As time passes, the wound heals — sometimes, but in your case, that was true, as hard as it was to come to that conclusion — and it suddenly became easier to recall the loss of what might have been without bringing you back to wishing it would be again.

It was nice.

“Would it be totally inappropriate—”

“Not at all.” You interrupted, shrugging at his raised eyebrows.

“You didn’t know what I was going to say.” He chuckled.

“I’ll have you know that years of knowing you granted me the issue of knowing what you’re going to say,” You said, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction.

“What was I going to say?” He challenged, “If you get it right, I’ll get you tickets to the next game.”

You raised your brows.

“Confident, are we?”

He shrugged, a smug smirk on his lips.

“I don’t think it’s totally inappropriate to be friends.” At your words, he slumped in his chair, hands going to cover his face.

“No.” He groaned, repeating the word like a mantra as you pumped the air with your fist.

“Three tickets to the next game in the bag.” You bragged.

“Honestly.” He whined, peeling his hands away. “Why are you so difficult?”

“You offered the terms.”

“Why am I so dumb?” He rephrased.

“Ah, I'm afraid only you can answer that one.”

“The brain cells I have left don’t have enough energy to come up with an answer to a question as philosophical as that one—yes, it was philosophical to me, okay?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” You promised, putting your hands in the air in surrender.

“Just remember who’s going to give you those tickets, yeah?” He teased, sitting up.

“Abusing your power, nice move.”

“Oh…shut up.”

“Weak.” You coughed, trying to disguise the fact you said anything.

He looked straight at you, highly unimpressed by your tactics.

“Very original.” Was all he said.

“Is it supposed to be this easy?” You blurted out, spitting out the words before you could rethink the consequences of them being thrown into the abyss between you and Mason.

He knitted his brows together in thought.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, “but we were friends way before, it’s not hard to fall back into old habits. I think that’s why it’s so easy.”

#Mason mount #money mount #euros 2020 #euros 2021 #Chelsea fc #chelsea fc #chelsea #england football #euro #football #football player #mason mount onsehots #mason mount one shot #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount oneshot #mason mount imagines #footballer #footballer x reader #england fc #one shot #imagine #fluff #angst