"Why would he like you? Come on now, really!
Look at you, you think that he's impressed?"

You are visiting his parents for the first time.
And his mother doesn't like you.

• established (but still fresh) relationship •

👻Ghost's version ➽ mother knows best
🚬 Price's version ➽ mother knows best

The house smelled like polish and freshly baked bread. It was smaller than his partner expected, tucked into a quiet street on the edge of town, with lace curtains in the windows and a worn welcome mat that had seen better years. Johnny had warned them it was nothing fancy, just home. But the pride in his voice when he’d said "Wait till ye taste her shortbread" was unmistakable.

His mum - Rosie - was waiting at the door before they even knocked.

"There ye are, my boy!" she beamed, pulling him into a tight hug that nearly knocked the breath out of him. "Still skin and bone, I see." Her eyes flicked past him, landing on his partner. "And ye must be the one I’ve heard so much about." Her smile didn’t falter, not exactly, but something about it was too polished. Too precise.

Still, she welcomed them inside, ushered them to the table like old friends.

She fussed over tea, called Johnny her wee soldier, laughed a little too loud at his jokes. She even touched his partner’s hand once - lightly, politely - when they complimented the scones. "Ye’ve got good manners," she said, nodding in approval. "Rare these days. It’s nice tae see."

Johnny didn’t notice the edge in her voice. He was too busy telling some story about training mishaps and nearly losing a boot in the Highlands. His partner smiled, nodded, kept their hands folded neatly in their lap.

Then came the call from upstairs.

"Shite—forgot I told Da I’d help him with the telly," Johnny muttered, pushing back his chair. "Won’t be but a minute." And just like that, he was gone.

The silence that followed was instant. Thick. The kind that had weight. His mother didn’t speak for a moment, just reached for her tea and took a slow sip, eyes still fixed on Johnny’s partner.

"I’ll not pretend," she said finally, tone flat and measured, "that I understand what someone like you sees in my son." Her smile was gone now. "Don’t get me wrong—he’s a good lad. Loyal. Naive in some ways, maybe. Too soft-hearted for this world. That’s why people like you find him."

Her voice dropped, colder now. "You think he needs someone like you tae balance him out? Or fix him? Maybe just use him while he’s still blind enough tae think it’s love?" She just stared at them. "Don’t bother pretending." She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. "I’ve seen it before. The way people look at boys like Johnny—like he’s some project. Or worse... a bloody shield."

Footsteps creaked upstairs. She smiled again, just in time for Johnny to reappear in the doorway. "All sorted!" he grinned. "Bloody remote was under the chair the whole time. Ye two gettin’ along?"

His mum turned, beamed at him like nothing had passed. "Oh, we’re just wonderful, aren’t we?"

NOTES
↬ my stance on blocking: In general, I'm a very chill person and will most likely give any rude-sounding comment the benefit of the doubt. If I blocked you, it's because you crossed a line. Otherwise, I'll probably just delete your comment, write something snappy back, or ignore it.

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