#feel free to quote anything i write!

[ophelian-darling]

OMG YOU WRITE FOR MONSTER NOW!? The first post i read from you was about what type of darling giorno likes and oh my lord was it amazing. The way you wrote it and the sophistication of that post matched giorno so well and the dialogue "Please stay my innocent amore forever" was just 💕❤️ (i will absolutely steal that lmao)

anyways can i ask for general headcannons for yandere johan liebert? Anything you want to write about him is perfectly fine!

Link of Giorno's post

TW: Obsession, emotional abuse, Murder threat.

enjoy ♡

The paradox of an existence is what paints Johan in a perfect light : the calm, comely curve of his lips masks all of the convulsing twistification under his pale skin. Similarly to an ocean, His comportment appears lovely to the eye, even a bit of depth under his eyes unfolds a picturesque image of a midnight chasm and a visible wisdom. However, the beauty and curiosity of exploring more discolors into a monstrosity and terror with each dive; showing an endless abyss of Nietzschean horrors. The lovely smile of his becomes a twist of depravity and never been a man so sane yet so insane all at once.

Shadows danced within his head, casting a distorted light with every move they made. It would sound unbelievable; but he really filled his imagination with paintings of you: sometimes shapeless, at other times blurry, But there was one detail that remained. 

Your lips; the wonder of them. Johan never had the capacity to think of someone in a particular manner -Other than connecting directly to his demise- yet he thought of your features more than he should. Every little detail was mesmerizing in his eyes; the blood drops in your lips, the contour of them and how they form to your emotions so lively. Unlike him, you were able to taste glimmering joys and dim sorrows, savor life as it is, not drowning in some of an anarchic pit of despair and conflict; and that made him crave some of the warmth you had.

Johan is completely calm around you, His posture plays perfectly and complies to his acting, acting that role of a good man around others and a good friend of yours (although these words of friendship or romance meant nothing to him, 'friend' wasn't correct, more like a sculptor and his muse) and coffining the monster away from others- you specifically. He doesn't want his Obsession and maladive affinity to surface and scare you away- at least not yet, not in a time when you could run away from him easily. 

Dreaming of being embraced and melted into you, or even having each other belong together and as one -like a Shadow and an Anima-  dwelled in him so many nights. Maybe he can regain his sentiment again? experience normality or maybe… take your own name? It didn't matter how, what was important that you were his salvation from the cruelty of everything. 

He has a way with words: not like a formal sparker or a reckless lover, but of a poet. Johan flows his speech as sweetly as honey and as softly as a rose petal, tugging at anyone's heartstrings with a warm feeling. When in flirtation, his words come out Cloudy; a thin string between Coquetry and Courtesy. However, When you receive that small billet-doux on your door, your heart is immediately pierced. 

You've never seen someone in a romantic light (minus some short-lived fixations) and you were almost sure that no one was willing to make a move on you -at least that's what you concluded from all of your acquaintances friendly behavior- and here you were, re-reading the small note over and over again, absorbing the beautifully written words and inhaling its fragrant Aroma of flowers. you held the paper like a bundle of nerves, very gingerly and benignly. There was a tickling skip of your heartbeat; a sudden flow of feelings rushing out as the echo of the words calmed, never been so fluttered before.

"Beloved, Of Thy Smile I adore,

  As Pure as a Seraph, As Beautiful as a long Dream

   Of what darling Bud you've flourished?  Of what Angel you've been carved? 

A Memory filled with hues of a divine Beauty, a heart with a wound so sore

 Draws Thee in the pale moon, Kisses Thee under the warm Gleam

Thorns Hurt yet don't pain,

Take them As the sweetest antidote 

All Oblations for Thou never in Vain

For All joy and love on you I dote."

-Your Wounded Cupid, Johan.

You Are blessed. Never in a blue moon you've thought about your Capacity to lure someone else, let alone Johan Liebert himself. You'd burn the last candles of thought and wonder, only to end up with no answer: Why me of all the loveliest, savviest or highest people that he chose me? The questions would die down soon to be replaced with another blissful feeling, feeling that was alive and meant to die…

'Emotions' are just a set of false faces. He can wear and crawl under any role of a normal human effortlessly. Johan loves your smile as much as he counts your tears; creating a path to your heart by offering you the mimicry of warm affection and a color of what Love appears as. You smile back- and that's a hope for a monster like him.

What is the meaning of a family? or a loved one? He asks you silently. He can't overlook that look of joy on your face whenever you spoke to a close person of yours, and it tugs something at his soul. Was Heaven the other people? He wants to ask as well; and wanting to hold your hand and go into the unknown, solaced that you'll be with him. The more he fixes his sight on your life, the more he comes to the realization that he can be your salvation as much as you're his. there is no need for others when you have him.

The peaceful world inside your mind crumbles apart, or better to say: reforms. Johan wouldn't say that everyone around you was evil out loud, he has just to expose the wickedness of others around you, how much they used you to their benefit, or twist their words and create the worst scenarios in your head… He didn't corrupt you for his enjoyment, he was just keeping the Lily of a human in Heaven. 

The Sweet fall of an Angel. He's now delighted, even more delighted. The sheer happiness you used to show faded into the clouds of despair; a crack through the rose-colored glasses broke its way through and through. Gorgeously Weak and beauteously Shattered, you're now left easy to be munched, chomped, gobbled and gulped; as to become one with him.

What affection meant to him: the absolute control and submission between two; dominion of the flesh and spirit in order to achieve the perfect union, and so he did. He's always been obsecure as Chaos, If never in a cruel way.

He was everything alluring and gruesome; a chiaroscuro painting of an Angel and a Devil, cruel to be kind, and kind to be cruel. Everytime you thought you catched a thread to pull in his persona, more tangles would unwrap. In other words, he wasn't one to be understood. 

Johan Contradicts his honeyed words in cruel actions: He can simply Call you the prettiest thing as he aims a bullet at you, taking delight at the sight of your cascading tears or the sound  of your incisioning sobs, at other times, He plants warm kisses on your hands and face, lacing his lips with venomous letters and twisting sayings, wanting to see the broken look on your face yet again, or maybe a pearl of a tear from your eye. He doesn't -would never- hate you, it's just that you were pretty when you cried. 

You've lost all of your weapons and winning Cards from the beginning. There wasn't luck or skill enough to defeat him, and you ought to be the most knowledgeable of the reality through his eyes: there was no one in the world except of you two, no heaven or hell except when you're together, and no force that shall banish you from him.

"Suffer with me"

"I know not of a meaning except of your love" 

"We belong together" 

"Ich bin du, und du bist ich"

[hella1975]

me: yeah i didn't project too badly onto taob haha *sees a quote from taob randomly on a tiktok webweave about girlhood*

[robin-falkin]

[Was saving these for later but here are some Incorrect quotes about the Talon Commanders, and my OC Robin later on in there time together, in other words Cyclonain Command as Family/Chaotic Friends]

[steakout-05]

hey g uys i recently unearthed an old Deltarune fanfic of mine that i wrote on AO3 a couple years back and later orphaned out of shame and embarrassment. i really REALLY regret orphaning it and it's practically unsearchable unless you look through your old bookmarks if you read it before, so i'm making it more accessible again here :) here's the link if you'd like to read it! it's angsty and cringe and kinda badly written, but it's mine and i want to share it with all the Deltarune fic readers!

https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/95987620?

[numinousnic]

If you need proof that you can make anything — yes, even early 2010s Nicki Minaj verses — supremely unsettling and deeply scary if you write it the right way, look no further than The Militia House by John Milas.

[allpiesforourown]

If you're anything like me, you're constantly talking about svsss and when someone says, "wait, when did that happen?" you can't remember the exact chapter and have to read through the entire book again.

So I've made a little log of scum villain trivia, the exact quote (from the official English translation) and where it is.

I've just started working on it today, so it's VERY incomplete, but I will add on everytime I reread svsss which is... very often. If you're a fan fic writer who just wants to quickly gloss over a character's canon before writing, or even someone who just wants to see factoids, feel free to browse this!

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1_I_gGBkRxGPazhfgrWf4ayC48--4I0_c9IqPWnaHqUQ/edit?usp=sharing

[inkskinned]

so while i was writing the book, i became violently suicidal.

this was mostly due to the fact that i had a very bad reaction to some meds and my brain stopped producing any serotonin. also i was in the last semester of grad school where it's actually illegal to feel anything but dread. so it wasn't going well.

somewhere in the fog of it i became aware i needed help. nobody was taking clients or my insurance. i didn't want to do inpatient care - it wasn't right for my needs. there's not really an "in between" stage between "inpatient" and "no care," but i was trying to do the right thing. i was trying to activate the chain of command that was my emergency plan. i knew i needed help now.

i used betterhelp.

i know, i know. i'm a straight-A student and so smart and so clever, how could i ever use something so blatantly bad. to be honest with you, i didn't feel particularly keen on it from the getgo - things that seem too good to be true usually are. also, if something online is free, the price is usually your privacy.

the thing is that there was kind of a global pandemic happening at the time and i worked 5 jobs alongside of being a fulltime student and also like writing a book on the side. it is a miracle that i even thought about getting help. i would love to tell you i had the mental wherewithal to like, process whether this was the right choice for me. mostly i was desperate. i was so suicidal that i was trying to find a reason to stay inside of fortune cookies. i was the kind of suicidal that looks like splatterpaint. i hadn't been that bad in an entire decade.

they took my data. i gave them it freely. somewhere out there, they have a dossier on me. on everything i survived. my story in little datapoints, scattergraphed beautifully.

the first woman told me that really i should be grateful, because (and this is a direct quote): "at least you're not anne frank." i said that i felt that statement was antisemitic, as anne frank's life and experience shouldn't be compared to like, a nonbinary lesbian in western massachusetts. the therapist said that i should try to use lucid dreaming to try to picture myself in an actually scary situation, like running from nazis.

i applied for another therapist. i was willing to accept the possibility that there was a bad apple in the bunch. the next therapist and i even laughed about how inappropriate that statement was. and then, in our next session: the new therapist said if i was struggling with body image issues, i should just work harder on my appearance. she spent 3 sessions in a row talking about how she was grieving, and made me memorize facts about her grandmother so "she can live on through my clients."

i am a three's-a-charm kind of person. okay, so what if the last person made me uncomfortable. i figured it was just a misunderstanding of priorities - she had felt she was sharing with me, i had felt like i had to take care of her. i applied for another therapist.

the last woman asked me to help her pray. she bowed her head. i stared at her, frozen, while she said: lord, i beg you: cure her. take the pain of being gay away from her.

i spent somewhere between 2.5 and 3 months on betterhelp. in that whole time, i was not getting the professional help i so desperately needed, even though i was fucking trying.

in the end, i survived this because i finally could get off the meds that were literally killing me. a request for a real therapist finally went through. i survived because my friends saved my life. because nick let me sob myself dry in his arms. because maddie took the razors out of my room when i asked them to. because grace slept over in my bed for like 3 weeks in a row since nobody trusted me not to hurt myself when i was alone. i survived because i got fucking lucky. because even when i was desperately suicidal, i was too old and too self-aware to take "you need to be prettier" as good advice.

the thing is that there's a 19 year old me who isn't like that. who would have heard "just think about how grateful you should be" and said - oh, i see. i would have assumed that is what it means to be in therapy: the same thing my abusers used to tell me. that i am just pretending and lazy. that i am ugly and unworthy.

betterhelp positioned itself to take advantage of an incredibly vulnerable community. it preys on desperation. it knows it is serving people who are not doing well mentally. it saw that there is a huge need for real, immediate, compassionate mental health care: and then it fucking takes your money and privacy.

i still get their ads on instagram. last night i watched as a woman in a pool pretends to talk to a different woman. they discuss her anxiety.

there's a 19 year old version of me, and she didn't survive this. she was too tired, and drowning. i almost fucking died. this thing almost fucking killed me.

in the ad, the woman playing the therapist takes a note on a clipboard and then nods once, sagely.

i have to admit it's a pretty scene. the steam and light coming off the pool water lands on the actresses. like this, it almost looks baptismal, holy.

[lov3rs-go]

excerpts from my novel :p

TW: vague mentions/descriptions of a gun and murder and violence in general bit no details or anything super graphic

[hypbaest]

i feel the same way abt misogyny that i do about j-walking as a pedestrian. if you hit me, you better kill me.

[taintandviolent]

Lime Green Jell-O; Peter Maximoff x Reader

summary: Reader is in a situationship with Peter Maximoff. It's been casual on both ends, or so you thought. You think he's jealous and you decide to tease a little hard. Peter can't take the heat, though.

word count: 2K!

w a r n i n g s: shameless smut, smut with a little plot, unprotected sex, fingering, mentions of jealousy, possible jealousy kink.

a/n: anonymous request! you guys keep asking me to write Peter, and I'm nervous every single time, istg. I hope it delivered, and you enjoyed reading it! ps: dividers are by firefly-graphics!

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don't have a taglist, but please turn on post notifications if you want to be notified of future fics!

Peter sat bolt upright, as if you’d just announced the most horrible thing in the world. Which to him, you had. 

"So, you've been seeing other guys?" Peter asked painfully casually, working overtime to control the pitch of his voice. Any hint of his true feelings and he'd be done for. 

You scoffed, feigning offense. "Of course I have." You gulped down the last bit of soda, and crawled over on the bed to throw it in the bin. Most of your free days were spent in his room, fooling around, playing video games with him, and watching whatever cheesy movie he’d put on. He seemed to think you had extra free-time that you’d spent with other guys.

Though it was only a nano-second, Peter's brows furrowed, and his lips frowned. You narrowed your eyes, and he immediately shifted in his jacket, returning to his previous state. No way she saw that. No way -- it was too fast. He darted to the bed, standing in front of you. 

Getting to your knees, you squared up. Inhaled and closed your mouth, crossing your arms firmly across your chest, underneath your breasts. Your shirt was low-cut enough that he saw the shift in your cleavage. He clenched his jaw, averting his dark eyes elsewhere. This wasn’t the time to start getting a stiffie. 

"Peter," you started, a reprimanding tone in your voice. If he was going to pull the loyalty card now… you smirked. "The first time we hooked up you said, and..." You brought your fingers up to make quotes in the air, in front of his face. "I quote: 'Nothin' serious, babe'. So....." 

Damn. Peter pushed his lips forward, nodding. "Right, yeah, I did say that. And I so totally meant it." 

"Good, so… you shouldn't care if things are getting pretty serious with one of them. Like... really serious. Serious enough that we might have to stop hanging out as much." Bam. Mic drop. 

That was a lie; a blatant one. Little did he know, you had been dating casually, but doing so completely uninterested. No one had matched your silver speedster; not in sex, not in personality, not in anything. He had zipped his way into your heart and wasn’t leaving. You weren’t about to let him know that though, and decided to dig a little deeper with the teasing. He was cute when he was jealous… which he was. You knew it. 

Instead of confessing everything right then and there, Peter stiffened and mirrored your position; arms crossed over his muscled chest. He shook his head and shrugged. Cool as cucumber. No way were you winning this one. 

You smirked again, this time, raising a single brow. "Are you... jealous, Maximoff?" 

"Pffffbfbbtbt." Peter blew air through his lips, slicing his hand through the air like he was swatting a fly away. "Totally not jealous." 

"Good, because if you were, you'd hate to hear that Tommy and I went on the most adorable date the other night, and he was --" 

His hands flew up, waving slightly. "Woah, don't need to hear the deetz, babe. No thanks." 

"Oh no? I think you are jealous... I absolutely think you are, because..." 

Peter's fingers shushed you, smushing into the fullness of your pout. He didn't want to hear the (probably one-hundred percent correct) explanation that followed the 'because'. Your eyebrows flew up on your forehead, expectantly. You tried to speak through his finger, but he pressed harder. Peter screwed up his expression before rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. He huffed a breath, and looked back at you.

You yanked your face away, narrowing your eyes into knowing slits. You barked out a laugh, unable to control it. He had always been a terrible liar, but this took the cake. “Oh, you totally are. You are lime-green Jell-o, Peter.”

“I am not.” 

“Are too.” You jabbed your index finger into his pec. “You so are.” 

He huffed and dropped his arms. You weren’t budging, and if he kept up, you’d win. He knew it, you knew it. It was a good old-fashioned standoff. You cocked your hip out to the side. 

"Okay, so maybe I am jealous. Fine. Sure. Whatever. Now, c'mere."

Exhaling heavy over his bottom lip, Peter took hold of your face and pulled you into a warm kiss. The tips of his fingers stroked your hairline, urging you closer to him - as close as he could get you without melting into you. Surprised, your eyes widened into the kiss, but after a few seconds, you couldn’t help but melt into him. 

"Peter, Peter," you murmured into his lips, pushing away slightly to look over his face with a weighted gaze. "You're really jealous?" 

Saying nothing, he nodded heavily and went back to kissing you, his tongue slipping along your bottom lip before breaching. You whimpered into his lips, the vibration tickling slightly. Peter pressed his chin into yours, gently forcing you to scoot backwards on the bed. The kiss deepened for a moment before Peter broke it, his dark orbs scanning your face. 

“Yeah,” he whispered over your lips before urging your back against the mattress. “I am super jell-o…” He mocked. 

“Want you for myself. All for myself. Okay? Just… lemme’...” 

Peter nuzzled your neck, soft lips ghosting the skin and peppering kisses from your ear lobe down to your collarbone. Just above there, he began suckling the skin, pulling it into his mouth. He sucked harder and harder until you finally yelped, jerking your head away slightly. The skin left his mouth with a wet pop. 

"Ow! Peter, what are you doing?" 

"Markin' my territory.... err.... something." He pulled back to look at his handiwork. The skin where he'd been sucking was scarlet, heading to purple, and by that evening, it would be a wicked bruise.  A little gift for whoever you saw next, if it wasn't him.

He grinned as you rubbed at the skin, feeling the tenderness of it. “Did you just give me a hickey?” 

“Maaaybe.” 

“You dork,” you murmured. Peter crushed his lips against yours again, inhaling your scent. His hands trailed up your waist, gripping it hungrily. This is exactly what you’d thought about earlier; every time he touched you, it felt electric, and nobody had even come close to that sensation. You bucked your hips up into his, grinding against the tent in his sweatpants. Peter pressed back against you, hissing through his teeth at the sudden welcome friction. Beneath the fabric, you felt the heat and pressure of his hardening cock and whined. 

“What the heck d’ya want, babe? What am I doin’ wrong here? You want a romantic? You want a casanova?” 

“No,” you started, raking your nail along his t-shirt, the fabric catching underneath your nail and exposing his luscious neck just a little bit. “I  just want you, Peter. Only you. No other guys matter, and I only… I only said that because you said it was casual, I didn’t want to seem desperate.”

“I dunno, I think I’m actin’ pretty desperate right now.” He rutted his hips against you, his cock bumping into your cloth-covered cunt again. You bit your lip, rolling your eyes back. Every whimper, moan and mewl you made coursed through his veins, straight to his dick. They made it ache, and burn, and he couldn’t help but roll his hips against yours, dry-humping you urgently. 

“Fuck me, Peter.” 

Just what he wanted to hear. He nodded in response and brought his fingers to the waistband of your pajama pants, slipping inside. He drug his middle finger up along your folds, smearing your precum over the warm flesh. You were already so wet, Peter grit his teeth, slipping a single digit inside. You vocalized at the sensation, and he slipped another finger in, pumping them in and out slowly. You loved when he did that; just felt you, played with you like a little sex toy. 

His nimble fingers slipped out, and began toying with your cunt, making tiny, quick circles on your swollen clit. The muscles of your thighs quivered hard and deep with every pass of the pad of his finger. He always knew how to make you writhe around, practically shivering with pleasure. You felt the wetness pooling underneath your ass and whimpered, shyly. You always got so wet around him, almost to the point of embarrassment. Peter never made fun, though; if anything, he was always delighted by it, and loved to feel it soaking through the fabric of your cute, little patterned panties. 

As he flicked at your sensitive spots, your lids drooped shut, thinking about how good he was going to feel. It pressed against your hip, hard and demanding, like it was searching for somewhere to go. You couldn’t wait anymore. 

“Gimmie that cock,” you whispered against his ear before nipping at his lobe. Higher than he wanted to, he whined and withdrew his fingers, planting them on your hip bone. 

“Mm’yeah…. gonna’ give it to you,” he nodded, breathless. “‘Cause you want it bad, right?” 

“Yeah, I do. The only one I want.”

Wasting no time, Peter freed his throbbing dick from his sweatpants. It bounced heavily in front of you, the searing hot tip pressing against your tummy. Biting your lip, you took it in your hand, giving it a few generous pumps. You then pushed his cock between your legs, lining it up with your slit and forcing the tip in for him. The action sent a shockwave through his body; he jerked up and groaned. “Fuuuuck…” 

Peter threw your legs over his shoulders, angling your body up. 

“C’mon, give it to me…” 

He clenched his teeth and bottomed out, slamming the lower half of his toned body into yours. It filled you, stretching your walls and pressing against them in the most erotic, tantalizing way. He found a rhythm quickly, and made sure to keep it, his balls slapping against your ass as he thrust into you. You threw your head back and let out a breathy moan, pressing your head into the pillow. You swallowed, wetting your throat and looked back up at him. 

Above you, Peter was extra-whiny today. Sweat collected on his forehead, beading up before ribboning down his temples. His silver hair stuck together in clumps, and when he looked from your pussy to your eyes, he smiled weakly. He was fucking you hard, harder than he usually did and you could only assume it was because he was taking out his aggression, his jealousy.

“Oooh, yeah, just like that, baby… Just like that. You’re so… you’re so jealous.” Your words were punctured by lewd moans and breaths, but you finally got out the teasing statement. Then, Peter did something he didn’t usually do. He gripped your shoulders and pulled you onto his cock over and over again, relentlessly, bucking his hips up to meet yours with every thrust. The tip of his cock hammered your cervix, hitting your deepest parts. Your jaw dropped, brows peaking together as he fucked you. 

“....oh….oh my fuckin’....” 

“....shit-shit-shit, Peter…” 

Your pussy clenched around his cock, and you couldn’t control it. She fluttered, coating his dick in warmth. Peter groaned, closer than ever. 

“You should… you should be –” You moaned, digging your nails into his shoulders. “...be jealous more often.” 

That did it. Peter lost it, spurting his white heat  inside of you, pumping it deep. A melody of groans between the both of you filled the room, as the thrusts slowed and the sweat dripped. He collapsed on top of you, kissing every inch of bare skin that he could find. 

After a few moments, he snapped up, hands on either side of your head. He looked down at you with a quirked brow, and a mischievous smile. You grinned back at him, lust-blown and giddy. You loved these afternoons, where you just fucked each other like teenagers. 

“Wanna’ play some video games? Or did you have another lame-o date planned?” 

You sniggered. “The only lame-o I’m dating is you.”

[writingwithfolklore]

Punctuation Rules

Punctuation is like the very last thing I actively think about when writing something (what's the point of fixing the punctuation of a sentence you'll end up taking out or editing anyway?) but it is still an important step!

Having proper punctuation increases your credibility and the overall quality of your work. Also, it’s doubly important in professional work, emails, and resumes. With that, let’s get into it!

Commas

We use them all the time. We get them wrong all the time. There are six rules for where you can use commas:

Use to separate items in a list or series:

The book was long, tedious, and painful.

The comma after tedious is called the Oxford’s comma. Feel free to debate if you need it in the reblogs, but you won’t get in trouble professionally if you use it or leave it out (in most cases.) It always comes before ‘and’ in a list to prevent confusion of the items:

I ran into my mother, my best friend and a scientist. (1 person?)

Is very different from

I ran into my mother, my best friend, and a scientist. (3 people)

2. Use to separate independent clauses, with a coordinating conjunction.

An independent clause is just a sentence that makes sense on its own.

A coordinating conjunction is: and, but, or so.

Miley had a ton of work to do, so she set her alarm early.

3. Use after an introductory statement.

Introductory statements begin with many different words, but typically: Before, after, when, while, as soon as, etc.

Before her first class, Stacy looked up her prof on Rate Your Teacher.

Main point about this, “Before her first class” is not an independent clause, it needs a second part.

4. Use to surround info in a sentence

This info is not essential to the sense-making of the sentence, but it should be relevant.

Parents, no matter how skilled, cannot function at 100% all the time.

5. Addresses and Dates

6. And with direct quotes

Important for essay writing.

Casey said, “I hate this house!”

Colons:

Introduce a list after a complete sentence:

I have three favourite foods: spaghetti, chowder, and garlic bread.

2. Use after ‘the following’ or ‘as follows’

Please provide the following information: your date of birth, full name, and address.

3. Don't use with sentence fragments

A sentence fragment is an unfinished sentence (that doesn’t make sense on its own).

My favourite foods are: spaghetti, chowder, and garlic bread.

This is wrong because, “My favourite foods are.” Isn’t an independent clause.

4. Introduce an explanation

My parents ask one thing of me: that I try my hardest.

5. Introduce a quotation

Mom always quoted the bible: “The truth will set you free.”

6. And times (12:00)

Semi-Colon:

Not super common, but makes you look good if you can use it properly.

Separate two related independent clauses

I never drink Starbucks; it tastes burnt.

2. Similar, but with conjunctions: however, moreover, therefore, nevertheless, etc.

I don’t like Starbucks; however, it does the job.

Agatha didn’t witness anything; nevertheless, she was called in to court.

3. Use to avoid misreading in a series

The invited guests are the club leader; the treasurer; the new member, Jason Tanner; and Wanda Johnson, the investor.

Semicolons clarify the separation between the four people. Had it been, “The club leader, the treasurer, The new member, Jason Tanner…” it would seem that the new member and Jason Tanner are two different people.

Apostrophes – Possessive

‘s shows possession of a singular noun

The girl’s parents were quite rich.

2. S’ shows possession of a plural noun

The students’ books were all over the place. (there are multiple students who have books)

3. ‘s to singular words ending in s, and nouns that are plural

My boss’s office My children’s toys

Apostrophes – Contractions

Use to combine two words (they are, he is, there is, etc.)

It is -> It’s a beautiful park They are -> They’re really good friends You are -> you’re good at this and so on.

[gffa]

JEDI ORDER CITATIONS IN STAR WARS CANON, PART V [A Meta/Reference Guide on AO3] Welcome to my Jedi Culture and Teachings in Canon series, where I collate various quotes from current canon to provide a worldbuilding and reference guide, whether for better fic writing, just general interest in getting to know the Star Wars lore better, or if you want to be able to pull out some quotes when you're fighting the internet on behalf of the fictional space wizards. ;) So, what's here? Basically anything I think would be of interest to people who want to know what the Jedi are like in the canon--any worldbuilding bits (what special abilities do the Jedi have? do the Jedi have art? do they have funeral rites? what do we know about Knighting ceremonies? what are the themes of the Force? are the Jedi telepaths or empaths and what scenes in canon support that? what do we know about Jedi schooling?), any quotes from Lucas himself, all arranged in categories to help you find what you're looking for. Feel free to take this guide or leave it, it's not about telling other people what to do, if you scroll on by, that's fine, I'm not your mom, do what you want. But if you want to know what the Jedi have to say about Force bonds or what kind of clothing they way or everything we know about the main ziggurat of the Jedi Temple, I got you covered, babe. This section is admittedly overly large, where previously I would get to about 25k words of citations and post the next part, feeling that was a manageable chunk for readers. But with The Acolyte coming out, I made a challenge to myself to get caught up on all of The High Republic before it aired and I drop citations in as I'm reading, so suddenly I found myself with nearly 50k of citations and I was feeling in the groove, I had all my references easily accessible, I was getting through my backlog, I had access to some of the roleplaying guides, I was seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, and, wham, suddenly it's ~70k and here I am now. But that's 70k of examples of what the Jedi say and do, my best attempt to give context to show the consistent themes and parallels within the Jedi Order all across this continuity. How to use this guide? Well, you do you, for starters! But I hope you'll read the intros, as often some books need to be put in specific contexts, and if you have any suggestions for future categories or better organization, feel free to mention it! I do this for me, but I format it for sharing, so I'm game! Feel free to check out previous sections for more examples, and just scroll through to skim the bolded sections to try to find what you're looking for, since not everything always fits neatly into a single given category! (Or just ask me! I love being a nerd about Star Wars worldbuilding.) The guide is broken down into seven sections as before:

How the Force Works

Jedi Culture & Philosophy & Teachings

Jedi As a People

Psychic Space Wizards Doing Psychic Space Wizard Things

Jedi Temple (Living Quarters, Training Rooms, Meditation Gardens and Dining Halls !)

Jedi Outreach, Politics, and the Bigger Galaxy

Fantasy Flight Games Are Not Canon But Canon-Compliant Is Close Enough

Jedi, Buddhism, and Everything Else

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

First off I LOVE your writing, I’m so happy you’re taking requests again so, may I please request something with Ghost? Like the reader is part of the 141 and Ghost has a soft spot for her and is very protective of her and both having feelings for each other but not saying anything bc both think the other one deserves better or just something like that🥹😮‍💨💖🙏🏻 feel free to keep practicing smut for this one!👀✨

You’re awesome 🥰💞

Blood Was Its Avatar

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Getting close to you was never his plan, but when he can't stop his self-protective instincts from pushing you away, will he be able to repair your strange friendship? Or will his body have to speak for him? (18+)

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

WARNINGS: Angst, blood, wounds, stitches, death, smut, p in v, throat f-ing, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, implied pain kink, hair pulling, hate sex? but not really?, semi-clothed sex, vulgar language, fluff at the end, etc. just pure filth.

A/N: This is sub-par because I was up until 4 in the morning today and didn't have the energy to edit in-depth lmfao, but enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

All of Ghost’s problems started and ended with you. He was impressed with that fact, actually. 

They call you ‘Masque’ on account of the mission from years back, ‘07 Ghost recalls easily. When you’d been pinned down and surrounded, the dead bodies of your unit all around your feet. You’d chosen to act while the others had been yelling orders over the radio—rooting around the pooling blood on the ground and slathering your face with it; your body. 

You pretended to be dead. 

Quick thinking, Ghost had told you with a glint in his eye when you’d gotten back, those whites of your eyes ten times more noticeable. Like the moon hanging around a crimson-drowned sky. 

You’d cursed him out and said of course it was, quoting some poem from Edgar Allen Poe as a joke.

“Blood was its Avatar and its seal—the redness and the horror of blood.” The Masque of the Red Death. Your claim to survival apparently, as you had just read it a day before.

Ghost said you were bloody fucking crazy and found his eyes darkly watching the way you smirked at him. How the dried blood on your lips would splinter at your loud chuckle as you both entered the C17.

As he knew—all of his problems started and ended with you. Today was no different.

“Damn! Lookin’ good today Ghost, are those new gloves I spy?” You were always so…bubbly. 

“Masque,” the masked-man greats blandly, not even sparing you a look as you enter the meeting room. The screen on the far wall was hooked up to Price’s computer—broadcasting its news out into the dim lighting with images of mayhem and a loop of a video containing the bombing of an embassy building in the Netherlands. 

Profile pictures stain the screen of wanted subjects; captured or killed in the crossfire made no difference here, anyone could see it. 

You drop down into the seat beside his own with a huff, body shed of your usual black gear, and wearing casual fatigues instead—your tags jump on your chest and Ghost sees them glint in the light.

Your face shifts into a smile, prodding with a bump of your elbow. The Lieutenant turns and glares dryly while you carry on, “I asked if you got new gloves; they’re nice.” 

“Needed ‘em.” Ghost drawls, seeing no way out of this as he glances around at the multitude of other free seats. No one else was here yet, and Price had needed to step out for a moment to grab another report from his office one floor up. 

A small grunt echoes from his throat before his eyes dart back to yours. Shifting in his seat, his lax posture tenses before loosening. 

Raising a brow at Ghost, you stifle a laugh.

“That’s it?” He blinks at you slowly, those bright blues trapping you as they shine out from his skeletal visage; his great body hidden under layers of Kevlar and thick canvas cloth. Like some weird and deadly present. You tease him, “No attempt at a conversation, Ghosty? That hurts.”

You sarcastically put a hand to your chest. 

“Then suffer.” Ghost states like he’s reading the newspaper, stretching out one of his wrists by rolling it until it cracks the joints. Where was everyone else? “I’m not fuckin’ talking about bloody gloves, Masque.”

“It’s called a conversation starter!” Under the mask, he raises a dull eyebrow. You glower at him, but the smirk on your lips shows how much you enjoy this.  

“For who? Could have jus’ stayed quiet, then.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes and indulge him—pointedly going silent. Almost immediately an awkward nothingness covers the room with its metaphorical blanket and Ghost’s muscles slowly go stiff as he crosses his arms slowly over his chest. You bite your lip and stamp down a snort. 

A minute spreads like molasses. Two. Three. Five.

“Alright,” Ghost growls, breaking as you pick at your cuticles, humming horribly off-tune to a point where the Lieutenant’s ears were ringing and annoyance faired. “Fucking hell stop it, just say something already to shut up that noise. Sounds like my damn brakes squealin’.” 

You stop and laugh loudly, elbowing him again as he jerks away with a low grunt. Blue flashes, and his heart pounds.

“Jeez, Lieutenant, is my humming that bad for you?” The air rolls with tension.

“More effective than torture.” Ghost utters, his Manchester drawl violent and thick as it coats your ears. You take no offense—you’d been doing it on purpose, anyways; always the one to exploit cracks in the concrete. You'd found out a lot through your studies of the man beside you. Mostly, all of the small tics and unique qualities that made Ghost such a strange character. 

On the battlefield, the large man was resilient and patient. He could wait in one spot for days if he had to, sitting for a perfect shot. Nothing could break the line of purpose and authority he had over the units he was placed in or his fighting spirit. Gunbattles, torture, you name it he’d survived it. 

But he disliked anything below scalding hot tea, detested his objects and packs being messed with…and clenched his hidden jaw at small, repetitive, noises.

Low, horrible, humming, tapping fingers, tongues clicking over and over. You had no idea why, but the sight of making this experienced and handsome man glare at you with annoyance made your face heat up. 

You chuckle in the meeting room, eyes crinkling up at him before you reach for one of the pens and notepads on the table. Clicking the bottom, you shrug and start to scribble nothing into the side margins as blue ink bleeds like foreign blood. 

“What’s Price got for us today, then?” Your voice echoes, “We shipping out with the others or going Black again?” 

The Captain usually paired the two of you up for Black Ops for a reason—Ghost the strategic mastermind to your reckless bloodlust. Push and pull. 

Missions were rarely a failure. 

Ghost sighs, finally getting the sensation of control back into him. “Black,” he begins, “least for us. Old Man’s sending Garrick and Johnny out in hopes of drawin’ a few bastards out first. Netherlands. We slip in the back—off the books, ‘course.” 

He watches you from the side of his eye, gaze following your pen as you sketch out a small stick figure with a skull for a face. Ghost stifles a huff as he scratches at the side of his face.

“Well, of course,” you slyly tease, glancing at him before looking back to your pad. “Are we getting any soldiers?” 

“None. Just us.” 

“Ooo,” Ghost watches your lips curl and feels his body slowly still. “Sounds like fun.”

“It sounds like I’m going to have to babysit again,” you laugh again and dark blue seems to spark with some strange emotion. Ghost clears his throat and takes down a breath.

“Oh, please,” you chuckle, “I’ve saved your hide a few times before, Ghosty, be nice to me.”

“Nice isn’t in the job description, Masque.” 

“Well, it isn’t for you, grumpy. I think Johnny and Gaz are lovely.” Your nose tilts up teasingly as Ghost grumbles like a cat. “But that’s alright, I like you anyways.” Winking, you go back to your pointless scribbling as footsteps echo from the hallway. 

Ghost stares, his hands on the armrests slowly clenching into fists as he studies your expression. His eyes slid over scars and blemishes he’d already looked at a million times over, seeing in his mind’s eye the stains of blood and that every present smile—the burn of your presence beside him like a brand in his stomach. You never seemed to let him get too far away from you on Ops, but it wasn’t some form of obsession. It was worry; he’d seen it. 

You didn’t like it when you couldn’t see his back ahead of yours. Ghost guessed it had to do with your lost unit. He never pressed it. 

In fact, he’d noticed himself not eager to see you off himself. Had spent many a night in the onsite gym after missions because of it, where he’d given you the cold shoulder after. He didn’t like that feeling. That hesitation. 

Ghost knew only to trust people as much as he had to…so why did he like when you said nice things to him? His jaw clenches, shoulders rolling to dispel tension as he rips his eyes away from your body as if you were fire incarnate. Your head perks up at the sound of talking voices getting closer to the meeting room. 

Soap and Gaz enter a few moments later and Price shuffles in behind them. You smile warmly and greet them, shifting the notepad closer to yourself nonchalantly. 

Ghost grunts and stays stationary, straightening up when he realizes he's slightly leaned toward you during your conversation. His new gloves pull taunt over his knuckles and he suddenly wants to rip them off. 

—

You begin to wonder when you’ll be free from blood coating your fingers but know deep down you never will be. At least, not if this was how you’d be getting covered in it.

Sitting inside the hotel bedroom, you slowly extract a blood-coated bullet from Ghost's large thigh, grimacing when he grunts from over you. You’re in between his legs, kneeling, as the metal finally breaks free from the skin barrier—the entry wound is small but nonetheless dangerous. His pants were cut from thigh to knee, a long spit that showed pale, scarred skin. 

Keeping a tight grip on the forceps, you hum under your breath in satisfaction. 

“No bullet fragments—lucky you.” 

Ghost forces out, “Yeah, feelin’ proper lucky.” You chuckle, moving back and dropping the bullet to a food plate you’d put on the floor. Shuffling, you take up the rag placed over your upper arm and bring it back up. Patting the gushing wound, you frown and think back on the events that got you here as the Lieutenant shifts and bites his tongue. 

The intensity in his blue eyes burns into you, lungs deeply inhaling with a silent breath. Your fingers tingle, but you diligently press the fabric to the wound and try to ignore the heat from Ghost’s flesh or how his legs flinch with every trail of your nails. His muscles are pure iron around you, and you’re suddenly very aware of the position you’re in. 

Swallowing stiffly, you sigh and notice him slightly shiver when your breath caresses his upper leg. You stop immediately, lips going tight.

It had been fifteen minutes earlier when Soap and Gaz had set up in a far more open and less secluded hotel three blocks away—directly across from the base location for your gaggle of targets. As planned, you and Ghost would be off the books and go in when they were too distracted by the Sergeants’ in plain sight. 

Fire was supposed to be the cover story. Go in, take care of business, and set the place alight after the area was clear of civilians. But no one was counting on the targets being surrounded by three more friends. 

Of course, guns lead to bullets and bullets to flesh. You can still hear the ringing in your head when Ghost had jerked you to the slide and shoved you behind the far wall—skull snapping back to look in horror as his leg exploded with gore. 

Fucking bastard had been distracted by you and hadn’t had time to dodge. That wasn’t Ghost, but then again, Ghosty wasn’t quite the same, was he? Least, not to you.

“You’re a fool, you know that?” You huff, something swirling in your chest as your gloves peel the layer of cut pants farther down to see better. “You should have looked after yourself.”

“And what?” Ghost grumbles, letting you do what you wanted to him.  “Let you get fuckin’ shot, Masque—you have a bloody death wish?” His last word comes off with a growl as you press tighter into his thigh. 

His hand instantaneously snaps out to grasp the back of your hair tightly with an instinctual low groan. Naturally, a small whine exits your lips in retaliation.

You both freeze and the room jumps up to a hundred degrees; your lower body flips as your skin burns a million degrees. Fingers still, you feel your breath hitch when his calloused fingers scrape your scalp, your hair in his expansive palm. It was a pure reaction you knew, and when you’d asked him to let you help out with this problem you had thought this might happen—he’s a soldier after all, just like you.

But he hadn’t denied you. If anything, since six missions back, you were the only person who he wanted to work on him. He’d never said why. 

You look up at him from the side, eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. Ghost’s heart skips beats before he clears his throat, snapping his hand back immediately and slamming it to the mattress. A second of strained silence settles where you both try to forget what the fuck just happened.

“Keep bloody going then,” He says, deep and grating to a point where you shove down a shiver. Your head feels light off of his scent, and you have to ask yourself why you’re feeling so feverish all of a sudden. 

You bite your lip and nod, hand moving away to grab at the sanitized needle and thread with your forceps—dropping the rag back onto your forearm to let it hang. For once in your life you’re left mute by his actions. 

Mute to the fact that you’d liked them. 

Your face burns like a hidden fire; epidermis alight with the strength to rival the flames the two of you had started fifteen minutes ago. Lungs stutter and hands inside the gloves go clammy. It’s only after you were halfway done with the stitches that you mutter words.

“Shouldn’t have taken that bullet, Ghost.” He had been stone still the entire time, hands clenched beside him and his thighs like rocks. Feet firmly planted. It was like he was barely breathing, too. 

Ghost blankly stares, staying quiet as you continue. 

“You were distracted. That never happens.” His form was almost entirely shadowing you; great spanning shoulders from above tight like a looming statue. You dig the needle deeper with a push of the forceps, threading through yielding skin with quick punctures. He doesn’t even flinch. 

Ever since ‘07, there was an obvious aversion to partners stemming from you. You distanced yourself from forming close bonds with those who you hadn’t already known. In many ways, Ghost and the others of One-Four-One were the closest you could get to people now.

Ghost, you admit, was far closer than all the others combined. 

But this sentiment was known—both the aversion and the care you held. The Lieutenant wasn’t good with words, but he knew how to read you better than anyone; the way you carried yourself. He knew you didn’t like it when he got hurt in front of you. 

Ghost had to ask why he even bothered to shove you out of the way, regardless. You would have been fine. So why had his eyes gone wide and his iris flared with a dead glow when he’d seen the gun swivel in your direction? The man grunts at a deep dig from your sutures but you continue to mutter to yourself as he glares at the far wall, venom-like. 

His sin was that he had grown to care about you. His burden and his curse. 

This couldn’t continue. 

Ghost looks down at you with a sheen of distanced nonchalant-ness and when you lent back with a sigh of your lips, his body moved. You blink in surprise as you feel his muscles bunch and before you know it you’re being grabbed harshly by the arms and lightly shoved to the side. 

“Ghost!” You snap, eyes narrowing dangerously as he stands to his feet—blood training down his thigh and kneecap before disappearing back under the stained cargos. “What the fuck?! I’m not done with it.” 

Attempting to stomp closer, he swivels his head to you as his spine goes formal. Your feet stall from under you and your veins pump faster, forceps and slick gloves freezing mid-air. 

You blink. He’d only ever looked at you like that when you’d first met. 

Blue is a silent sheen of ice and cold death; black sockets behind his mask are more like voids holding chilled sapphires. 

Why was he looking at you like he didn’t know you? Once more you say, confused and suddenly small, “Ghost?” 

“Enough.” His voice was monotone and barky, the tone final. Your fingers tense at the sound. What…what was this? “You need to get your head back on, Masque. I can’t watch over you like a bloody Private every time you get stiff-legged, copy?” 

Your jaw slackens. Inside, your heart smashes itself into your ribs in a violent pang. There’s a moment of complete and utter silence in which Ghost remains standing with concrete tied to his feet. He sees the flash of confused hurt in your eyes, the way your muscles jump for a moment.

A suffocating wave of regret strikes him, but he felt like he had to do this—keep up boundaries. Even if his throat was closing in an attempt to make him shut up. 

Ghost’s accent makes him sound harsh and unforgiving. “Price’ll need us back in fifteen. Get your shit together.” 

He bends down and snatches bandages with a quick hand, beelining to the bathroom and closing the door with a firm hand. Blankly, you stare at the barrier as the wall rattles; face burning—unable to speak beyond a small sound in the back of your mouth. 

The two of you stay separated for the remainder of the time, not speaking, and not moving from your respective areas. 

When Ghost finally leaves ten minutes after he’d pushed back the self-loathing and guilt, freshly bandaged, he finds your stuff already gone. He glances around the area slowly, taking in the wails of the fire trucks from blocks away and the neighboring rooms of the hotel as residents speak in mutters from behind walls. The air is cold and lifeless. 

He grabs his things in total silence, swallowing down saliva paired with long breaths. Ghost’s eyes remain tight. Body wound and coated in rigidity that could rival a rhino’s armored plates.

Mind whirling, but still ever mute, he leaves the hotel and heads to the coordinates Price had given the two of you alone. The absence of your warm body beside his was more jarring than anything he’d expected to experience.

Ghost didn’t want to admit how many times his eyes trailed to the empty concrete at his left.

—

When you lose something in someone, you tend to lose it hard. Thus still, that was the case here. Ghost and you always jabbed at each other—it was in your nature to do so—but this was different. The Lieutenant could be cold, but…never to the extent to shove you away from helping him with his wounds. 

Both of you always did that with the other, if that be physically or just being in the same room, while getting fixed up. 

If Ghost didn’t want you around for whatever rage-inducing reason, you weren't going to grovel or beg. The sudden switch-up still stabbed you in the heart though. 

On the second week, it got easier. 

You passed by Ghost without a single comment, shifting into the meeting room once more. He grunts as you shimmy through the door right before him, his feet halting before he runs into you. 

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Masque, you lost your bloody eyes or something?” You don’t answer, blankly walking to the end of the table and taking the single chair with steady steps; sitting down and dragging a notepad to your general area. 

Blinking, you look up at the projection and skim the small details they give over. 

Ghost stares from the doorway, clenching his jaw. After a moment, he slips inside and slowly strides to the table. 

The days had been difficult for him, struggling to re-situate himself to his isolation after you’d been with him for years. Sure he had Johnny, Gaz, and Price, but you were…

Ghost places a veiny hand on the back of a chair about four down from yours, knuckles white as he’d shed his gloves not five minutes ago. His eyes stay stuck to the tabletop, hips shifting. He hadn’t thought it would be this hard to push you out. Not only physically but mentally. 

He found himself thinking of your face at night. Like a phantom, it would snap into his consciousness when the lights went out and the shadows got long. Your smile and your skin. How your fingers would gently press into his flesh when you were threading a needle through him—shivers of pleasure and pain intertwined by the scrape of your nails. 

Ghost’s hand tightens on the chair, and you spare him a tense glance as he seemingly fights within his mind. 

The Lieutenant wonders at your willpower and your drive. He spent the weeks hating that he had gotten what he wanted, and then he hated himself more because of that fact. It was good to keep you away from him. Not only for himself but for you. 

You both were becoming too….attached. Ghost would have none of it. It had bled over into him using his own body to protect yours that was just…was just…

“...Those new tags, then?” You look away from the screen and shift your gaze to him as his voice bounces. 

Around your neck, the new reflective metal of your new dog tags glint. Your heart skips when he speaks to you, but he still doesn’t look your way.

“That an apology?” Deadpanning, your unimpressed gaze glares into his face as his hand strangles the chair. 

The room returns to strained silence. You huff.

“Pretty shitty one there, asshat.” Ghost’s shoulders roll under his gear, a great sigh quickly exiting him. Everyone had noticed the tension over time—it was becoming a detriment to the team.

The Lieutenant’s blue eyes darken, and in his body, a great heat was beginning to burn. Just looking at you provoked lucid and vulgar thoughts, and as the dim light from the projector makes shadows on your face, Ghost traces them with a chained desire. Being away from you was a physical pain to him, but he also knew that being around you was worse. 

All of Ghost’s problems may have started and ended with you, but they also grew in his own head. They’d been there in the back corners ever since he’d given you your nickname; found out he liked the way your face was wet with spilled blood and sweat. Your body. Your hands on the hard flesh of his upper thigh…trailing up... 

Ghost’s pants get tight as he stares without saying anything. Watching you scribble on your notepad. Glaring. 

“Why can’t I get you out of my fucking head?” Your ears twitch at the low growl as if coming from a beast; seconds later, your brain catches up to process the words. Your pen stops its pointless scrawling just as your breath does. Ghost spits out, seeing your form straighten in the chair, “Every bloody thought, you’re right there!” 

His boots stomp to the floor, and before you know it a hand is trapping the back of your head, fingers carding through hair to angle your chin up. Your breath gasps out as your wide eyes lock on Ghost’s, his hold tight but not uncomfortable; as if he knows the perfect amount of pressure to make your blood surge and your pupils expand.

You stare into volatile blue with silver flecks, a skeletal mask stained from dirt and blood. Ghost’s thumb digs into your scalp. 

“Answer me, Masque,” he grunts, accent so thick you momentarily struggle to string the words together in your stupor. 

Ghost’s nose is close to yours; breathing in each other’s air as the temperature rises. Your throat bobs with a swallow. Below you, you feel your legs clench together as the Lieutenant's fingers lightly pull on your roots when you don’t respond—small sparks of electricity run down your spine that make it straighten instinctually. A soft purr flies from your lips; face on fire as your lashes flutter. Your hands clench at the dull pulse in your lower body.

The Brit’s dead eyes stare down at you, glinting; studying you deeply with growing satisfaction in his heart and tension in his boxers. 

You both glare half-lidded, panting, and flesh heated. 

“Is this your apology?” He tightens his hand and you bite your lip, small whine meeting his ears as he represses a groan at the sound. Your voice was breathy but smug. 

“You fucking wanted this, you naughty little beast,” Ghost growls, moving even closer to tower over you. “You’re playin’ me.” You mold into him as you still sit in your chair, your chin set onto his upper abdomen as the midsection of your breasts presses into his crotch; brushing against his hardened bulge firmly. 

You shiver at the feeling, your core leaking out slippery fluids to stain through your pants one second at a time. Every twitch of his fingers leaves you wanting to arch into him. Feel him.

Ghost feels your hands go to wrap his open thighs, nails digging into the back of his pants as his mouth opens under the mask to force out air. 

“You liked me in between your legs, didn’t you?” Your tiny, teasing, voice serenades him as he quickly begins to lose control of his composure. 

“Shut it,” Ghost grunts, mind yelling at him to move away, “Shut your damn mouth.” 

Those pupils were so wide his eyes were almost entirely black, feral chest moving quickly. 

“I already know why you snapped at me…” One of your hands travels back to the Lieutenant’s front, skin tingling at the scratch of a belt and the rough fabric of his cargos. You leave it over his crotch and add a tight amount of pressure; mouth lightly opening at the weight and size of him as Ghost grunts deeply, thighs jerking forward. 

Blinking at his glassy eyes you breathe out into thick air and the veiled threat of something more. His hand in your hair is so tight that you feel your pulse under the tendrils—you enjoy every second of this cat-and-mouse game. 

After all, no one knew who the mouse was yet.

You rub your hand up and down and watch Ghost’s clothed dick, feeling his muscles straining to keep himself in control. He lets you continue as he watches with a clenched jaw, his pants getting gradually wet with precum; hips twitching. 

“...You can’t get enough of me touching you, can you?” Your statement ignites something immediately, and you’re being grabbed by your shoulders and forced to your feet. 

Staring wildly, you cringe at the soaking patch under your clothes but let Ghost place your backside on the table. He presses into your hips to keep you there—legs opened and feet planted to the floor below on their tip-toes.

The man breathes like a lion, nose in front of yours. You slightly smirk at the far-off haze in his eyes, lust and pleasure blending and bleeding into the almost bruising hold he uses to press you down.

He watches you for a minute or two—taking in your scent and the rabid instinct that infects the both of you now that everything was on the table. 

You knew you were right; he knew you were right. Licking your lips you look down and stare at his blatant hard-on hungrily. Your brow raises slowly.

“You going to let me take care of that, Ghosty?” He’s up and locking the door after he slims it shut.

“This is it,” Ghost grunts, “one time, Masque. That’s fucking it, you hear?” 

“Awe,” You cue, swishing your legs as he stomps back over, hand grasping his belt and whipping it off with a flex of his forearm. Your core tightens, hips trying to press back into the table. “That's so cute. You think once is enough.” 

A hand captures your jaw, “I said,” he breathes, the other hand going to shift up the bottom of his mask up to his nose. You gasp at the sight of blond stubble and milky scars. A strong jaw wound like a spring. Ghost’s musk invades your nose and you feel your palms so clammy. “...Shut it.”

Hard lips slam into yours.

Like some game between the two of you, your mouths fight one another with aggressive grunts stuck in your throats, sharp inhales of air between partings. Ghost’s lips mold and conform to yours, clinging around the supple flesh—there’s a deep-rooted intensity, a hunger, and a desire mixed with sweet stubbornness. The tang of metal and old canvas opens to you just as your mouth does when his teeth bite down at your skin.

Quickly sucking down breaths, you feel his tongue push past layers and slip into your awaiting clutch; Ghost groans lowly and explores as his hands bare down into your hips, one making its way to grip at your hair again. Your own dig into his waist as he leans over you. 

He latches onto your hair and peels you back from him, tongue sliding out of your mouth as he moves to nip at your chin—angling your head whichever way he wants to. Your skin burns as the man bites down at your neck, hot saliva stuck to your lips as your chest pants fast with a low whine at the mixture of pain and bliss. 

Below you, your legs are wide to allow Ghost to stand between you, his firmness leaving your hips canting at every hickey he leaves behind and how he shivers into you as you move against him. It was addicting to him—your taste and how your flesh yields to him as he clamps down on it ruthlessly and rapidly. In no time he’d traveled the length of the area behind your ear and down the swell of your shoulder; shirt pushed back by his nose.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, eyes glassy as you blankly stare into the far wall over the Lieutenant’s shoulder; your panties are soaked through and the evidence can be felt. A long whine exits your chest when Ghost licks at the deep marks he left behind, blown eyes coming back to stare at you head-on as if in a trance.

His lips are red and swollen, mouth open with silent, fast, breaths. His large chest moves quickly over yours. He orders you in a hoarse voice; strained, “Get on your knees.” 

Licking your lips your widened gaze stays locked on his, the hand in your hair tight and keeping you away from slamming your mouth back to his. The air is electric, both of your bodies yielding to one another's even if you don’t realize it. 

As much as you wanted to scoff and roll your eyes at the comment, to make him apologize to you for what he’s done, you realize that your body has already complied with the request. Slipping off the table, Ghost watches like a hawk and backs up two steps—feet splayed as you move for him. Your knees slowly lower you down to the floor, connecting with the carpet as you sag, fists clenched and shaking. 

There’s a small, heart-pounding, pause. “...Good girl.”

Your jaw drops at the smirk on Ghost’s face and those flashing dead eyes of his, blood thumping with a newly ingrained need. You swallow and feel your throat bob; legs shifting to push back the inner-body itch that grows by the second. 

“Now you can listen to me, yeah? Such a slut for it.” Ghost’s hands slowly trail to his pant’s zipper, sliding the piece down the teeth with barely audible metal on metal. Your fingers twitch at every small pop; how the zipper itself had to move forward with the strain of his sizable erection. You can’t even look away from it—how his pants are stiff against tense thighs and the sleeves of his shirt are rucked up to show the black ink of tattoos.

Ghost had tattoos. 

When the teeth had run out and the man’s hands grappled for the waistband of both his cargo and his boxers, you’d found out you’d been staring the entire time, pupils so wide they matched Ghost’s and the black stain of his face-paint. 

“Fuckin’ hell, Masque,” he grunts, knuckles white and going still, “bet your pretty little cunt is soaked and I ‘aven’t even shown you my bloody dick yet, eh? Well, the thing’ll ‘ave to wait, I’m puttin’ that mouth to good use first. Teaching it who to listen to.”

You startle back, blinking away the burning heat on your cheeks that leaves you uncharacteristically stuttering at the vulgar degradation. But Ghost doesn’t notice, doing what he can to move the various straps along his thighs and his upper hips to be able to free himself quickly—eager and dripping to be down your throat. 

The throat and mouth he’d fantasized about for ages. 

Stiffing down a whiny moan, you finally see the veiny girth of Ghost’s cock as it comes free over the top of the tight white cotton of his boxers; a happy trail extending up his visible abdomen when his wrist snatches it out. 

“Put to good use?” You breathe out, “Christ, you’re going to make me fucking mute, Ghosty.” 

“Well, Sweetheart,” he breathes a sigh of relief as he plays with the leaking tip with his thumb. Your hands itch to brush against your achy clit, the pressure in your chest almost enough to make you sob at the sheer nothingness. Sweat glistens over your forehead. Eyes glare at you as you watch thighs tense and loosen. “That’ll be fine by me. Don’t need you speaking when I’m paintin’ your damn cunt with my cum, do I?” 

Jesus, you both were in the fucking meeting room. Going to fuck in the meeting room. 

You lick your lips and stare as Ghost stalks close again, gripping your chin and opening your jaw with his thumb and first finger. His dick was right in front of you, and you can smell sex and sweat like an animalistic aphrodisiac as it coats your brain with lust as you moan out. 

Your arms tense with a want to reach and touch it, watch as Ghost falls apart below the twist of your wrist. It was so addictive you feel yourself clench at the visual, your body shivering violently. 

“Oi, fucking focus.” Your tongue sneaks out and licks Ghost’s finger and he feels his grip tighten on you with a puff of hot air. “Little brat.” 

He stares into your mouth and breathes deeply as a smirk peels the edges of your lip. Blue swirls with anticipation. 

“Keep it open, then.” Ghost’s hand drops from you and you easily keep your mouth open as his hand goes back to his cock, grasping it firmly as the other finds the top of your head. You shiver and shift your thighs under you, your body striking like a drum to oxycontin and adrenaline. “That’s a girl…” The Lieutenant growls, and the tip of his dick slips into your saliva-dripping mouth with hidden fever. “Fuck.” 

Your eyes flutter at the taste, letting him maneuver your face closer to the base as your hands snap to his thighs—nails digging in and eliciting a sharp inhale as you press into the two-week-old wound under his pants. Ghost curses under his breath but watches in flooding pleasure at the image of his cock disappearing farther and farther into you. Inch by inch you tell yourself to breathe through your nose; feeling the make of his veins and the mushroomed tip traveling farther and farther back. 

Moaning in the base of your neck, Ghost instinctually jerks his hips at the sound, feral grunts trapped in his chest. Your eyes go wide with the prickle of tears, not from pain but from the surprise as you gag. His hold on your hair tightens and you mewl as he continues to lose himself to the feeling of your wet heat. 

He was so big it was like your throat was ripping new sinews just for him, and you reveled in every moment of the feeling of his predatory gaze.

“So bloody tight for me—can’t wait to be in that cunt of yours…can’t be better than this. Have to test it.” He talks more when he’s horney. 

Slightly gagging again at the sheer size, his palming hand presses you deeper and you take him as well as you’re able, still space between your nose and his pelvis as your knees dig harder into the ground. Ghost groans gutturally, head slightly lulling back and panting like a dog, looking down at your red eyes and far-off gaze. Your hands kneed his upper thighs and he smirks slowly. 

Without another word and with sweat staining him under his uniform, bits and bobs from his gear start to clink together and dance as his hips set a rough pace; you find your head being puppeteered back and forth with his thrusts as your scalp flames from his hold. Tears burn immediately.

“Yeah, that’s it—such a good little slut for me, Masque. Gettin’ it down, fuck,” Ghost pants, as you hollow your cheeks, back arching into you and leaving your nostrils flaring to take down air for your spasming lungs. The sight above you was sinful. 

Your Lieutenant in full gear, pants and skin-tight boxers stretching and shoved down just under the clutch of his crotch. With every back-and-forth motion, the zipper grazes the underside of your engorged throat as every vein can be undoubtedly seared into your esophagus like a brand. 

Ghost’s eyes flutter and flinch, but never once does his hazy gaze leave your mouth as he continues to jerk your head back and forth. Saliva drips drown your chin and the nearly painful burn in your navel lets you know how true this was a relief not only for Ghost but for you as well. You wanted to touch yourself, but you can’t stop touching the Brit—not for a second. Shit, you think you could fall apart just by looking at this; you were sure Ghost was thinking the same thing. 

“Look at that, makin’ such a fucking mess of you.” His abdomen tightens and rolls with every jerk and rut, and your eyes roll back with a deep whine in the back of your throat when he hits the back of your throat. Sweat splatters down your temple as the air is steeped with animalistic desperation. Ghost whines thickly in answer and seems to speed up as your hands claw at his thighs. “You like that, pet? Huh? Being my little cock-sleeve.” 

Your nails dig deeper into his flesh and he shivers wildly; eyes flash at the sight of himself disappearing into you and exiting just after as the slap of wet skin reverberates. The tension in his chest increases and he starts to desperately kneed at your hair. 

“If I’d known you’d take it down like this, I’d-I’d have made you hate me sooner, yeah?” Tension fizzles up his jaw and you know he’s close by how he bites down into his lip and tilts his head back. 

Instinctual tears travel down your sweat-slick face, the thought of being used like this vulgar and as dirty as the sounds that echo in your throat and strike down your spine. 

“Fucking hell,” Ghost gasps, and his pace stutters as he twists your locks. Your teeth graze along his flesh as you dig your thumb into his wound to steady yourself. Whining loudly, the action seems to get to the man using your mouth for his pleasure, as not three rough thrusts later the warm feeling of his cum splatters the back of your throat in thick, hot, spurts. 

Choking for a moment, the widening of your eyes meets Ghost’s fluttering lashes from above. His free hand goes behind you to slam onto the tabletop; back curved over you as he shakes and sputters as he rides out his high. 

Cum drips out of the seams of your stretched lips, and with a deep breath through your nose, your hand lowers from Ghost’s thighs as you carefully pull your face back from his pelvis. The sensation of his cock leaving your mouth and bringing saliva and his fluids with it was animalistic at best, they spill to the floor and off of your chin like a small river. 

Licking your lips, you swallow what you can and try to catch your breath as your chest rages. Blinking rapidly, your eye twitches as you bring a hand up to your sore and ragged throat, Ghost’s heaving body stiff and hunched as he stares at the table blankly. Sweat dribbles down the side of his nose, sneaking out from under the top side of his mask. 

There’s a long minute of nothingness as you both try to breathe and understand the gravity of what you’ve both done. And then you both lock eyes and stare. 

The air stills over as Ghost’s large pupils stare at the mess on your face—seeing it drip down your throat as you tilt your chin up to him. His chest purrs like a cat and you don’t even think he realizes that he does it. 

Two seconds later you’re being manhandled up to the top of the table, backside hitting it as a hand goes to your belt. Lips connect with yours and groan at the taste, the clinking of metal hitting your ears as you submit to his prodding tongue as it licks along your inner flesh. 

Your fingers snap to trail around Ghost’s neck, moaning into him as he slips his hands into your pants, pulling back and ordering, ���Up.” Eager and filled with lust, you raise your legs and he rips them down to your knees, dragging you closer to the edge. 

“Good girl.” He smirks, black-smeared eyes creased. If you could speak you’d tell him to shut up and fuck you already. 

Your slick skin meets the air and you gasp, Ghost’s hands waste no time trailing up the flesh of your hips, pitching to make you jump. Glaring, you try to drag him back into you but he’s built like stone, clicking his tongue. When his fingers collect the fluids that drip out of you, you whimper at the stimulation—two calloused fingers getting entranced by that as they stop at your clit. You stare desperately into amused blue eyes as he pressed deep, your thighs tensing as they jerk. 

“Any more of this and you’ll stain the table, won’t you, Sweetheart? I get you this worked up, yeah? Bloody hell.” You pant, and lines form on your forehead at the indecent circling of his fingers; not being gentle as he sees your mouth open and your lungs gasp. Sharp spikes form in your thighs, and they move in tandem with Ghost. “Look at that…” 

Deep chuckles mock you, but you both know this has to be fast—and with how worked up you were, it would be. 

“Alright, then, brat,” Ghost takes his hand away and you whimper before he grunts and grips you by the shoulders. Your lust turns to confusion. “Suppose you did well. Let’s make this quick, eh? Got work to do.” 

Flipped around, you squeak as your clothed chest meets the table, ass presented as your feet scramble to connect with the floor. Surprised, you whip your head to the side to stare back at a highly smug Ghost as one of his hands goes to grab onto your supple flesh, massaging it before it sneaks to your hip. 

“Easy with it, I’ll take care of you, Masque.” In little to no time he’s lining himself up with your dripping pussy, so wet it’s easy except for the fact that he’s huge enough to make you mute by a blowjob. Your back arches into the table with a long moan as the length slowly spears you open, instinctually widening your legs as best as you’re able. 

Closing your eyes, you press one of your hands to your mouth to stifle your noises, thighs spasming as Ghost curses under his breath; gear clinking into each other.

“So bloody tight.” With a swift thrust and a knock of your pelvis to the edge of the table, your eyes burn with the feeling of holding Ghost in your most intimate area and the knowledge that he would completely wreck it for anyone else. Your lungs fight for air, but a long mewl exits your fingers as the man shakes over you with restraint. “Christ.”

Tight wasn’t the way to describe it—you were like a fucking noose. Your sensitive walls know every vein and bulge, the scrape and dig, far more intimately than your throat ever could. Like a carved stamp, they’re reforming to Ghost’s dick every second. 

Tapping the side of your forehead to the table, the man can’t help himself anymore and starts to thrust into you; feral squelching and fluids staining the top of his pants. Your face burns, the rocking of the table hypnotic as your toes fight to stay on the ground. The sensation of being so full truthfully made your mind go blank, fingers twitching as Ghost continued to palm at your hip—his other hand going to press into your spine, keeping you stapled to the table. 

His gear slammed and rubbed into your ass, bruising it no doubt, but you found you didn’t care at all. Pleasure rocked down with every ruthless intrusion. 

“Can feel ya ‘round my cock,” you keen at the words, tears dribbling down the side of your face as you try to hold back sobs of pleasure. Ghost increases his pace, rabid slapping echoing off the walls as he feels his sole focus on your mind-shattering bliss. “Can’t have ‘em hear how loud you are, now, can we? Can’t let ‘em know I’m shagging you in their meeting room like a little fucktoy, eh?” 

He angles his hips higher, pushing your farther up the table as his hands only drag you back. Every moment leaves your core tightening even more; molten heat pooling as the edge gets closer. 

Footsteps echo down the hall outside, but both of you are too focused on the other and the ache that only increases like a pair of cuffs. Your mouth lets loose insistent gasps and moans while Ghost breathily groans at every other interval of his ravaging cock as it brushes your cervix. 

You whine loudly, spine arching and legs desperately trying to close. Ghost chuckles and your reaction spurs him on—hitting that same spot over and over again as you sob. 

“Right there, yeah? That it, Masque?” You nod rapidly, and the Lieutenant's grip tightens with a loud grunt, “Fuck, that’s it, bloody slut.” 

The coil in your gut gets tighter, shining with desperate shakes of your body and the numb way you try to meet Ghost’s thrusts before you entirely lose the plot of reality. 

“You’re close,” he breathes, feeling your pussy trying to keep him in, slick trailing down the insides of your thighs and transferring to the Brit’s clothes. His boxers were soaked. “C’mon, then. Don’t disappoint me, Masque. Lemme see you cum on my cock before I fill you up like the good girl you are, yeah?”

Your body spasms, thighs tensing and toes curling at the floor; fingers scratching down the table as you press over your mouth harder in a last-ditch effort to remain in control of yourself. The coil snaps and suddenly you’re digging your forehead into the wood below you, orgasm ripping through you like a knife as cum paints Ghost’s dick as he continues his relentless chase of his second release.

“There it is, fuck, look at all that, Love. Paintin’ me like a naughty fuckin’ portrait.” Ghost gasps, a hand coming up to connect to the table by your head, feeling you completely flood his pelvis—he doesn’t stop even when you whine in overstimulation, fucked-out eyes wide and mouth dripping drool into a small pool. The milky ring at his root grows and grows. With a loud moan, he looks down and watches the vulgar sight rabidly, pounding into your heat as his own end gets closer and closer. 

“Shite,” His forehead hits your spine, taking the skin into his teeth and biting hickeys as his open mouth leaves trails of saliva. “Took me so bloody well, cunt was made just for me.” 

His body shakes and with one last shove from his hips, he spills into you with a loud whimper muffled into your flesh. Teeth biting down so hard that you moan in turn, the spent releases dribble out of you like a stuffed bird. You feel his chest atop you as he places his weight slowly down; the fast-panting mirroring your own. 

Sweat connects the two of you as it bleeds through your clothes, the smell in the air and the scent of delirious sex staining your bodies. 

Your mouth remains open and hoarse, scraped dry. Ghost above you moves delicately as he pulls back up, moving back to peel your messy hair away from your blown eyes. After a moment his small voice hits you—the accent deep. 

“All good?” Your eyes slowly rove to him as he kisses your forehead, shivering violently as he slips out of you; the wet drip of cum hits the carpet in the still silence as you whimper at the feeling. “...Masque?”

Dull concern emanates from his tone and you blink back. You clear your throat and utter in a torn voice, “...P-pretty good apology, Ghosty…S…shit.” 

Smugness burns in his orbs, but the roll of his eyes hides it quickly. The puff of his chest couldn’t be hidden from you, though. 

His hands reach down and hike up your panties and cargos—both items completely wrecked. The large splotch on Ghost’s own clothes showed you that you weren't alone in that aspect. 

As he carefully flips your limp form back over and pulls you up by your arms, you groan in annoyance but shut up when his hands go to zip your zipper and clip back your belt. 

“Couldn’t have had a revelation in your barracks room?” You huff, itching at your throat. “You’re buying me cough drops, you ass.” The state of your voice was laughable. Anyone would know what happened if they spoke to you. 

Ghost sighs and begins with his own clothes, stuffing himself back into his boxers and growling at the chilled fluids on his pants as he pulls them back up. He goes and retrieves his belt before walking back. 

“Acting like you weren’t beggin’ for it.” He slides you a smirk before he grabs onto his mask and begins to cover his jaw. 

Your hand snaps out and stops him. Ghost startles, eyes flashing before his muscles stiffen. You raise a brow and he slightly calms. 

Scoffing, you lean in and place a final kiss on his lips—a tinier and tender kiss. Gaze wide, the man stares off as his heart starts to beat fast again at the firm press. After you’re done your hand goes up and grasps the fabric yourself, carefully re-shrouding the mystery of a man with a smile. 

He watches blankly.

“We okay?” You ask, tilting your head as your lower body aches when you shift on the table. “I miss my annoyingly gruff Ghost. This new one’s a jerk.” A small laugh graces your ears, and it makes you beam. “I know why you did it,” you admit, and hold out a hand between your bodies. “But pushing me away will only hurt the both of us. Let's try this, Ghost. Please.” 

“...You’re makin’ it seem like a good deal, Love…is it?” He holds out a hand of his own, large and scarred hands that had gripped you so tight before utterly loose and awaiting. 

“No clue,” you admit with a smirk, “Wanna figure it out?” Ghost watches as he always does and always will, searching into your eyes for any hint of hesitance or denial. 

“Always liked a challenge.” He grunts and encompasses his hand with yours. You squeeze it and nod, chest light as your normal breath comes back.

“You know what a real challenge is? Trying to take down your fucking dic—” The meeting room handle jiggles and you both snap into action. 

Ghost tosses you your notepad and you slide a shoved-away chair his way on shaky legs, slipping into a free seat with failing knees. You both sit side by side on the opposite side of the table, shoulders bumping and faces hot not three seconds later. Ears twitch at the sound of a key entering the slot. 

You try to act normal and begin messing around with your notepad, stealing a pen from Ghost’s gear as Price opens the door. At the sight of the two of you, he pauses and stands in the doorway.

“Ghost…Masque.” With a squint, Price looks around the room slowly, confused at the rod-straight spine from his Lieutenant and the way you awkwardly scribble nothing onto your pad. 

“Price,” Ghost utters as you look up and fake smile, waving as you tighten your hips under the table in an attempt to hide the evidence spilling out of you. 

The Captain continues to stare, scrutiny in his eyes, for at least a full minute. 

“Problem, then?” The Lieutenant asks. Price’s lips thin and he gains a sheen of deep annoyance. You groan under your breath and knock your head to the table at the next comment.

“In the fucking meeting room?!”

TAGS:

@emerald-valkyrie , @anna-banana27 , @blueoorchid , @cryingnotcrying , @writeforfandoms , @homicidal-slvt , @jade-jax , @frazie99 , @elmoees , @littlemisstrouble , @alpineswinter , @phoenixhalliwell , @idocarealot , @lavalleon , @facelessmemories , @h-leigh, @20forty9 , @glitter-anon-asks , @emily-who-killed-a-man , @neelehksttr, @aeneanc , @escapefromrealitysm , @i-d-1-0-t , @pparcxysm , @hawkscanendme , @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney , @sanfransolomitatm , @maelstrom007 , @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet , @pheobees , @glitterypirateduck , @uselsshuman , @fan-of-encouragement , @halfmoth-halfman , @ghostlythunderbird , @I-inkage, @pukbadger , @kopatych11 , @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop , @knightofsexyness , @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons , @330bpm-whiplash , @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu , @tiredmetalenthusiast

[rageserenity]

It's 2024. Are you still thinking about movieverse!Cherik? Because I am.

For the past several months, there's only been a very slow trickle of posts/fics in the xmcu cherik tag. Let's try to breathe some life back into this incredible pairing!

With one clear winner of my poll, here's thirty prompts for the thirty days of April. (This is a super chill, laid-back event---do these in any order, interpret them as loosely as you like! Create in any medium! Fic, art, gifs, meta, incoherent screaming about the otp…all winners in my book.)

The only rule here is to cherik too close to the sun. Alright. Here are the prompts.

Mutual Pining

Doesn't really even need elaboration! Write that horrifically slow slow-burn. Gif every time McAvoy made insane fuck me eyes on screen. Make a playlist of songs about impossible love.

2. Alternate Meetings

There are endless quotes about how these two complete each other in a way no one they'd met before or after ever did. How else could they have met?

3. Erik Has A Telepathy Kink

This is basically canon. Let my boy get freaky!

4. Canon Fix-It

All the times Fox fucked it up. There are endless options.

5. Hurt/Comfort

Put them in that Situation. Put them in that Blender. Break them apart and put them back together ❤️‍🩹

6. Canon Compliant

Draw that missing scene! Gif your favourite cherik moment!

7. Beach Divorce

Make it worse. Make it better. Show it to us exactly how it was. Break it down in a 3,000 word meta. Go wild!

8. Domestics

Sometimes you just want to see them doing normal couple things. Erik put the gun down.

9. Found Family

The real heart of x-men!

10. Time Travel

There are SO many possibilities here. Stick them in a time loop. Give them a chance to change their past.

11. AU

Love a good AU!

12. There Is Only One Bed

Had to get this one in here. What better way to amp up the tension?

13. Genosha

By some miracle, cherik actually did end up together at the end of 2019s trash bag disaster Dark Phoenix. We aren’t making a big enough deal about this.

14. Declaration(s) of Love

Who says it first? How do they say it and when? Have they said it…without saying it?

15. Jealousy

Need I say more.

16. Reunion

These two have absolutely no chill.

17. Soulmates

Classic prompt, had to get this in here too.

18. The DOFP Aircraft

The TENSION here. Break it down for me. How does Charles feel about his injury? How does Erik feel about his injury?

19. Gay Mutant Road Trip

You already know.

20. Body Swap

SO fun when people have superpowers.

21. First Kiss

When? How? Who initiated it?

22. The Mansion

Mansion!content is a genre of its own.

23. Conflicting Ideology

Give me your theses. Who’s right? Can they ever reconcile completely? Write a fic where it drives them apart.

24. Sebastian Shaw

A trope unto himself.

25. Team As Matchmaker

They had to have known something was going on, didn’t they?

26. Cooking

Charles deserves a good meal. Also, imagine Erik using his powers in the kitchen. The sheer domesticity…

27. Hurt No Comfort

Plenty of scope with these two 🥲

28. Growing Old Together

Giving Sirs Ian Mckellan and Patrick Stewart their props as well!

29. Making Up

*pushes chess board across the table* sorry babe

30. Charles Xavier Did More For Mutants Than You'll Ever Know

Rising to each other’s defense. Only I can insult this man.

I will be tracking #revivecherik to reblog stuff! Here’s a fic collection for the same. Let’s get this ball rolling! Please feel free to send me an ask if you’ve got anything to say! And most importantly, let’s all have fun 😁

*I know a few of you preferred something like a gift exchange because of the commitment factor—I’m super down to organise a tiny one for the handful of us! If this promptathon doesn’t flop horribly, we can hopefully do a whole bunch of stuff :)

If you read this post all the way through, please reblog for reach! Thank you! Hoping you participate come April.

Shoutout to @inmymagnetoera for reaching out and helping with this!

[7-wonders]

Wishful Drinking

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x GN!Reader

Summary: After Morpheus cruelly dismisses you, you decide that you'll get back at him by staying out of the Dreaming one night for as long as you can. What you don't anticipate is letting your feelings get the best of you and getting very drunk instead.

Or, drunk shenanigans galore!

Word Count: 3.5k

Author's Note: I don't know what this is, y'all. I haven't written anything in more than a month, and it was so tough to even write this, but I wanted to write SOMETHING. As always, hope you enjoyed, let me know your thoughts, and likes, comments, and reblogs make my world go round.

ALSO! Dream logic applies here, in that you're still drunk when you reach the Dreaming.

Listen.

You know that certain coping mechanisms, like, say, going out clubbing with your friends and getting crazy drunk for the first time in a long time, aren’t exactly healthy. But things have been difficult for you lately! You’ve been struggling a lot, in both your professional and personal life. These hardships are only compounded by the fact that the one person (or person-shaped being) in your life that you thought you could count on, your Morpheus, has been too busy to have time for you.

Literally. He said those exact words to you a mere three days ago, when you had found him in his personal study (a study that he almost never used) after what felt like a day spent chasing him around the Dreaming. You meant for it to come out as teasing when you took note of the fact that you hardly saw him around lately and that it felt like he was purposefully avoiding you, but he had sighed and glared at you before saying, “I have much to do, and I am far too busy to entertain you right now.”

You glowered, but, as he said, he was too busy to see it. Fine, you thought as you turned around and stalked out of his study. Leave him to his business. 

Cut to today. When your friends asked if you wanted to go out with them, you almost said no, having gotten accustomed in the past couple of months to the routine of going to bed by nine o’clock in order to maximize time spent in your lover’s realm. But then, the more you thought about it, the more you realized that you didn’t want to just continue sitting around in the Dreaming and hoping that Morphues would come out of whatever funk he was in. After all, why should you make an effort when he won’t? You’re not about to beg for his attention.

With that in mind, you texted back that you very much wanted to go out with them and proceeded to get ready for a fun night out.

The plan was to have a couple of drinks, dance for a bit, and stay out of the Dreaming just long enough to make Morpheus sweat a bit.

But then shots had been ordered.

And your friend bought you a drink because they knew you had had a tough week.

And you bought yourself two drinks.

And a group of guys bought you another round of shots, and though you all laughed at the fact that they were not getting anything out of this, you still took them because you weren’t about to turn down free alcohol.

This leads to you and your friends stumbling out of a bar at two in the morning, holding each other up as you do. Definitely not the plan, but what’s that one quote about plans and mice and men?

“What about a mouse?” your friend asks from beside you, making you realize that you said that out loud.

“Don’ worry ‘bout it,” you say.

Somehow, you make it into a Lyft (thank the gods for friends who don’t get carried away), and somehow, you make it into your home. Not without its difficulties–you dropped your keys multiple times on the walk to your front door, and there might be a you-shaped indent in the entryway wall from where you fell into it when trying to kick your shoes off. 

When you reach your bedroom, you decide that actually, the floor looks comfier than your bed does. You’re so drunk that the room feels like it’s spinning when you lay down, and you close your eyes to enjoy the ride.

“Fuck, I’m so drunk right now,” you say out loud, laughing at the sound of your slurred words.

You don’t mean to fall asleep, really. You know that you need to crawl to the bathroom to wash your face and find enough dexterity to change clothes before hopefully sobering up just enough that you can make it to the kitchen to grab painkillers and water for the inevitable killer hangover you’re going to have tomorrow. The floor is just so soft, though, and you work yourself into a trance-like state by staring up at the ceiling fan and watching it go around and around and around. On one blink, you’re staring at your ceiling.

And on the next, you’re staring at another ceiling, one that’s not really a ceiling at all, but an entire galaxy above your head.

It’s easy to get lost in the magnificent colors swirling above you (especially in your current state), and you do, until you hear someone calling your name. When you look away from the universe, you see the love of your life looking at you, though at present, he is not reciprocating the heart eyes that you are always looking at him with.

“Where have you been?” Morpheus demands.

“Morpheus, my love!” You throw your arms out and grin. “I’ve missed you.”

“Do you have any idea how worried I have been? I sent Matthew to find you hours ago when first you were late, only for him to report that he could not find you at your home.” You’re a little surprised that Matthew hadn’t managed to track you down; your little raven friend was almost scarily good at finding people/places/things.

“Aw, you’ve missed me?” It makes sense, of course; after all, you’ve missed him, so it’s only natural that he would miss you in return. Still, the sentiment makes you feel all warm and melty on the inside.

 It’s obvious to anybody who actually takes the time to know Morpheus—a tiny list of people and beings, two of whom are in the room with him right now—that he’s fighting a war between wanting to scold you and wanting to hold you and check you up and down for wounds. Morpheus crosses the room towards you, and you ready yourself for the inevitable lecture you’re about to get, about how you’re just a fragile little human and he worries every moment that you’re away from him (y’know, now that you have the clarity of a drunk person, you’re actually annoyed that this is constantly coming from the being that’s meant to be your lover).

But that’s not what happens.

Instead, you find his arms wrapped tightly around you and his face buried in your neck. He’s hugging you, not the other way around. He’s never done such a thing before, and you don’t know how to react. What you do know is that any of the residual anger you had been feeling drains out of you like water from an unstoppered bathtub. You really didn’t think that being away for—the math isn’t mathing for you currently, and you don’t actually know how long it’s been—a couple of hours would affect him this much.

“You are the one most dear to my heart,” he mutters into your ear, cognizant of the fact that you are not alone in this throne room. “Of course, I missed you.”

“Oh. When you said you were ‘too busy to entertain’ me, I just kinda assumed you wouldn’t notice I was gone.” Though you don’t mean to weaponize your words, the poison darts make contact with their target anyway, and Morpheus stiffens in your hold.

“Are you alright?” he asks instead, choosing to wait until a later time to have this particular conversation.

“Aw, dream boy” you coo, snaking a hand up to clumsily run it through his hair. “I’m okay baby, swear it! Like, absolutely, one hundred percent fine.”

Morpheus pulls away from you so that he can look you up and down to confirm that you really are okay. “You smell like a pub,” he notes. 

“How can you tell that in the Dreaming?”

He ignores your question when a realization seems to hit him. “Are you inebriated?”

“No, I’m drunk,” you correct very matter-of-factly.

“That is–” he stops, choosing instead to just shake his head.

“Oh, dear,” Lucienne mutters from behind Morpheus, reminding you of her presence in the first place.

“Lucienne! Hi! How have you been!” 

You crane around Morpheus to be able to see your favorite librarian, but you almost fall over in the process. Before you can tip too far over, Morpheus is there to right you again. When he does, he looks down at you with quite the serious expression on his perfect face.

“Who did this to you?” he asks, ready to punish whoever put you in such a state.

“Vodka. Rum, maybe?” You think back on your drinks for the evening, though it’s hard to think back that far. “Yeah, the second round of shots was definitely rum.”

“You put yourself in this state?”

“Yes?” Has Morpheus never heard of the concept of going out and getting shitfaced with your pals? “To be fair, I didn’t think that my drunkenness would…” You search for the word that you want to use, but it’s just not coming to you! “Uh, carry over?”

“Please tell me you managed to make it home safely?”

You nod. “Sure did! Pretty sure I fell asleep on the floor, though.”

Lucienne slowly begins to back up towards the door, and Morpheus stares at you for a long moment before sighing heavily.

“Are you mad at me?” you ask nervously, starting to get upset the longer the silence drags on. Did you say something that you shouldn’t have? Is there a rule you don’t know about against sleeping on floors?

Instead of answering you, Morpheus waves a hand in the air and says, “This dream is over.” 

You’re awake and once again staring up at your ceiling fan, only this time, Morpheus is also in your line of sight. It’s impossible to stop yourself from touching him when you’re sober, so it’s not at all surprising that your hands go up to caress his face now when you’re drunk.

“Hi cutie,” you greet, laughing in delight when he flushes just the slightest amount.

He grabs your hands and kisses the back of both before setting them against your chest. “Why are you sleeping on your floor?”

“Because,” is your simple, childish reply.

“That is not a good answer.”

“It’s the one you get because it’s the one I have.” You throw in a peace sign to be extra spicy, but Morpheus, unfortunately, doesn’t comprehend your 21st-century humor, and instead just segues into the next order of business.

“Might I help you up, so that we can get you properly ready for bed?”

“But I’m comfy,” you groan. Morpheus is not buying what you’re selling, unfortunately, so you sigh. “Fine.”

Morpheus holds his hands out for you to take and helps you to your feet. Too fast, apparently, because the room begins to spin and your stomach tilts dangerously, making you clap a hand over your mouth.

“Oh no. Dizzy, dizzy, dizzy,” you chant, squeezing your eyes shut and laying your head against Morpheus’s shoulder while you try to breathe through sudden nausea. You will not throw up on your super hot eldritch nightmare king boyfriend, you command yourself. Not tonight, and not ever.

“What is wrong?” Morpheus sounds panicked, and you want to reassure him, but you hold up a finger in the meantime.

When the nausea finally passes, you take a deep breath and slowly look up. “Okay, I think I’m good now.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Sometimes drinking too much combined with moving too fast makes people feel sick. It’s my fault, but I’ll be okay.”

“Are you well enough to move?”

“Yes, I promise.” 

To prove your point, you let go of his hand and start walking heel to toe as the police require during field sobriety tests (honestly, you’re a little surprised that you can actually do this right now). You can practically feel your lover's amusement behind you, but it proves to him that you are capable. Morpheus lets you walk to the bathroom on your own power, and you think the only reason he doesn’t sweep you off your feet is because he’s worried you’ll throw up if he does. He watches you intently the entire time, though. 

You sit on the lip of the bathtub, watching Morpheus move about your bathroom as though he knows where everything is; he probably does, you realize, whether it be from that endless wealth of knowledge about everyone and everything that he possesses, or just his familiarity with your home. After rummaging around for a few moments, he comes back with a washcloth and your favorite pajamas. The sight of the familiar material makes you tear up, and you sniffle loudly.

Morpheus looks up in alarm. “Are you okay?”

“You remembered my favorite pajamas,” you say, trying to not start crying. You can count on one hand the number of times he’s come directly to see you off to his realm, and you’ve probably worn those pajamas twice. Yet he remembered the one-off comment you had made about how they were your favorite because of course he did.

His face softens. “Of course I did.”

You clear your throat and wipe your eyes. “Sorry. I’m okay! Just drunk.”

Morpheus hands you said pajamas before turning the faucet on and letting the water run. He seems to realize something after a moment and looks at you helplessly. “I do not feel temperature as you do. Is the water alright?” 

You grin and stick your hand under the faucet, moving the tap just a smidge hotter before nodding at him. “It’s good now. Thank you for asking.”

He begins to run the damp washcloth gently over your face, a barely-there smile appearing on his own when you wrinkle your nose at the cool sensations. Where this situation would be awkward with anybody else, it feels entirely natural with Morpheus. You’ll take these little moments of domesticity with him whenever you can get them, even when you’re still half drunk.

Even if you wanted to, you can’t hold yourself back from saying, “You’re so beautiful, do you know that? Seriously, you’re the prettiest man-slash-anthropomorphic-personification I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” The words are heavy on your tongue, but you’re pretty proud of the way you only barely stumble through ‘anthropomorphic’.

“You are still under the influence,” he notes.

“So? Drunk words equal sober thoughts, right?”

“‘A drunk mind speaks a sober heart.’ Jean-Jacques Rosseau,” he supplies.

“Sure, that. I’d tell you how pretty you are even if I was sober, and you know that.”

“Perhaps.” He says it in that infuriatingly sexy way of his, the one that makes you want to tear his clothes off.

Instead, you’re the one taking your own clothes off, though not for any fun reason. Getting changed is not as difficult a task as it would have been when you first arrived home, with the benefit of time naturally sobering one up on your side. Morpheus still keeps a hand held out, just in case you lose your balance and need something to grab onto, but after you’ve finished changing, that hand slips under your shirt and caresses your side.

“Thought you were supposed to be helping me keep my clothes on,” you say with a shiver, grabbing his wrist and pulling the offending extremity out from under your shirt.

“Apologies.” His tone implies that he’s not sorry at all, not that you would want him to be. “I simply couldn’t resist.”

He looks down at you with so much love in those blue eyes of his that you feel like you don’t think your mortal mind could ever truly comprehend it. Nobody has ever loved you the way that Morpheus has—all-consuming and passionate. He told you once that many of his relationships had ended because he had been seen as too intense, too obsessive in his love. Bring it on, you had told him when he expected you to back down. To date, you haven’t regretted that.

You don’t think you ever will.

Now that you can see the end of your night in sight, tiredness begins to seep into your bones. Though your bed is just right through the bathroom door, it feels miles away. With that in mind, you ask,  “Will you carry me?” 

“Were you not worried that you would feel sick?”

“Yeah, but I’m tired.” You pout (on purpose because you know what it does to him), and you can practically see his resolve break. “Just be careful?”

“Always,” he promises.

And careful he is, slowly picking you up and waiting until you nod to carry you to your bed. He sets you down gently, You’re thrilled to see a glass of water already waiting for you on your bedside table, Morpheus anticipating your needs before you’ve even realized you have them in the first place.

Crawling under the covers after finishing your water, you motion for Morpheus to sit next to you on the bed. He does as you ask, and you move your pillows so that you can sit up and lean on him. When you’re comfortable, you say, “Thank you for everything tonight. I know taking care of me wasn’t what you had planned.”

“You need not thank me. I enjoy caring for you, no matter the situation.” 

Your eyes flutter closed at the sensation of his hand carding through your hair, and you start to feel yourself inching closer to the Dreaming. Something keeps you from truly falling asleep, though, and when Morpheus shifts next to you, you realize what it is: the conversation’s not over. Morpheus is trying to figure out how to say what it is he wants to say.

Finally, he figures it out. “Might I ask you something?”

You open your eyes to give him your full attention and nod.

“Earlier, when you seemed surprised that I had noticed your absence. Did you do this,” ‘this’ being getting very drunk, “because of what I said?”

“No. I mean, I went out because I was mad at you, and I figured that me being a couple of hours late would make you learn your lesson, but I got drunk because I wanted to have fun with my friends and let loose.”

“And did you?”

“Maybe a little too much,” you admit cheekily.

“I apologize for my harsh words the other day. I have been…feeling burdened under the weight of my realm, and I took it out on you for no reason.”

“It’s okay, Morpheus. You’re busy running an entire realm and overseeing the collective unconscious. I shouldn’t be so needy.”

He shakes his head. “It is not okay. I should never talk to you in such a way, and you should never feel as though I do not want you around. I do want you around, always.”

“People say things that they don’t mean. That doesn’t mean they’re not worthy of forgiveness. But you gotta talk to me, okay? When you’re feeling stressed, or when things get to be too much. I’m here for you, and I want to support you however I can.”

“I love you,” he says. The fact that he’s being so open with his emotions is a pleasant surprise; it took him so long to be the first to say it, and even longer to be comfortable with it. You smile up at him.

“I love you, too. Stay with me until I fall asleep?”

“Of course.”

Morpheus turns your bedroom light off without you needing to ask (seriously, you love him so much), and you close your eyes. Then, a thought hits you.

“Hey,” you say, staring up at him in the dark and waiting until he looks at you to continue. “Can you get drunk?”

“No.”

“Why not? I mean, isn’t there special alcohol for preternatural beings? You’d think gods and goddesses would’ve figured out a way to get turnt by now.”

Though he doesn’t want to give in to your rambling when you’re meant to be trying to fall asleep, he can’t help but indulge you. “Gods and goddesses can. We, the Endless, cannot.”

“What? That’s so fucking lame. No. That’s–that’s an injustice! I’m so sorry.

“I promise, it is okay. Now, please go to sleep.”

You nod, but close your eyes for maybe thirty seconds before they snap open again with a realization. “Wait.”

“What?”

“You mentioned other gods and goddesses. How many are there? Are they all real? Is actual God real? I mean, I know the devil is real, you kicked their ass for your helm, but for some reason that’s more believable than–”

“Go. To. Sleep,” Morpheus commands.

“Ugh, you’re no fun!”

“I am not afraid to use my sand if need be.”

“You wouldn’t.” You raise an eyebrow in challenge, and he raises one right back. After a brief stalemate, you’re the first to give in. “You have to understand how world-altering this information is to a regular human like me, I mean–”

You’re asleep before your head hits the pillow.

[whore-4-drewstarkey]

Jealous of The Past: Milo Manheim x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N brings milo back to her home state to meet her family for the first time all while attending her mom’s works annual family picnic celebration at an event venue. while attending however milo starts to notice a worker flirting with Y/N and gets jealous.

Warning: milo being jellyyyyyyy. fluff, angst?, suggestive comments/content (my favvv), awkward interactions, language, mean siblings, and i am sure i’m forgetting stuff.

A/N: let’s just say my mom’s work has a family picnic at an event venue i used to work at every year and the guy i like works there still with his dad…. and side note: he would lead me on all the time and then rejected me :,(. and i found out today that he blocked me on socials…. this is feeding the flame and encouraging me even more to write this to feel better about it :) I hope you all enjoy this like I did while writing it! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT A PREQUEL!!! like when they first met and started dating :) ALSO, thank you all so much for being patient with me. means so so so much<3 feedback would be gladly appreciated:))

-

“hey mi, i just got off the phone with my mom…” Y/N spoke as she waltzed into her and milo’s living room, plopping onto the couch, she layed her head in his lap, her legs draped across the rest of the couch. seconds later, she noticed he’d been on facetime with his own mother, so she rolled over onto her stomach to face the camera.

“say hi to my mo- ow that hurt” he chuckled as she accidentally elbowed milo in the ribcage, while attempting the roll over, but stopped when he handed her the phone to say hello to his mother.

“sorry babe, put a shirt on then” she smirked as she placed her ice cold left hand on his bare abdomen, making him yell.

“stop it Y/N your hands feel like you’ve just done a polar plunge. mom tell her to stop” milo whined to his mom, shoving his face into view on the camera of his phone.

“hi camryn. it still feels so weird to say your first name. i still want to call you ms manheim” Y/N giggled at milo’s mom on the screen, waving to her.

“milo, shhhh. Y/N is talking, don’t interrupt her. go put a shirt on if you think her hands are cold. and hello dear! how are you? and i already told you, don’t ever call me ms. manheim ever again. you’re family at this point so call me camryn!”

“but m-“ milo began before Y/N put her free hand over his mouth to shut him up from complaining about her cold hands, only for him to try and bite it.

“ew milo, stop you’re turning into lou” Y/N chuckled as she wiped his own spit onto his chest, causing him to chuckle and plant a kiss to her temple. “and i’m doing good. i was just on the phone with my mom and she wants to ‘meet the man you’re living with that i nor anyone else has ever seen’. she’s very over dramatic” Y/N gave air quotes before she sits her hand back on milo’s abdomen, causing him to screech again.

“Y/N stop touching my stom- wait your mom wants to meet me?” milo began to complain but stopped mid-sentence when he registered what she’d said.

“wait, she doesn’t know that you two are dating? i mean as a mother i understand her concerns love, i do. i don’t think she’s being dramatic at all” camryn spoke in honesty to her sons girlfriend.

“well, she knows i’m dating a guy named milo. that’s it. she’s never seen him. but to be fair we didn’t want a lot of people knowing because i know it’ll get into the media and i just wanted to wait it out as long as possible before i’m shown off. because with media comes hate and i don’t take kindly to hate. and my mom has quite a loud mouth. can’t keep anything hush hush” Y/N began to explain to milo’s mother as milo just gazed down at his girlfriend who continues to lay in his lap. “it’s her works annual family picnic celebration. so to sum it up, she wants me to bring milo with me to have the family meet him. it’s at a private event venue and it’s the same one they go to every year. it’s always fun”

Y/N began to answer milo’s question next as she looks up into his eyes, “yes, mi, my mom wants to meet you. trust me though, she’s not the one you should worry about. you should worry more about my dad maybe? or my older brother and big sister. my little brother will love you though”

“ugh i don’t know how i’m going to survive this” he groaned out as he throws his head back. he begins to open his mouth again, as he bent down to look into the camera of his phone. “mom, as the brilliant and wonderful super mom you are, do you have any advice for me?”

“oh milito, same advice that i’d given you years ago, be your authentic self. you are a great boy. they will love you. but you should also be asking Y/N since she knows her family best” she smiled sweetly to her boy. she was so beyond grateful for the simple fact that he still came to her for advice when things got even the slightest bit tricky for him.

“baby, any pointers?” he cooed down at his girlfriend who still continued to lay in his lap. one of his hands lies draped over her abdomen, while the other plays with her hair.

“oh milito, where to begin” she mocks his childhood nickname.

“ugh Y/N you know i don’t have to let you lay in my lap. you’re so short and tiny i could easily pick you up and put you on the other end of the couch” he groaned for what felt like the twentieth time that night all while Y/N chuckles as camryn began to speak through the phone again.

“milo…. be nice to her” she chuckled as she narrowed her eyes at her son.

“okay okay, but….” and with that he slid one arm under her legs and the other under her arms and lifts Y/N and starts to move her, but not before she begins to whine.

“milo no, stop” Y/N frowned and began again “i just wanted to cuddle” she says as she pouts her lip and lays her head against his lower stomach as she wraps her free arm and hand around him.

“milo i said be nice. stop being a menace. i'm gonna let you two lovebirds go. and please give lou some loving for me. love you both. have a great night”

“love you mom and i will be nice. i’m always nice, especially to Y/N/N” milo says as he blew a kiss to the camera once he’s sat back down.

“bye camryn. love you loads” Y/N says as she has her head nestled into milo’s stomach, and proceeds to also blow a kiss to the camera before they hang up.

“okay Y/N, now tell me, how should i prepare for this? and when is it love?”

“just be yourself. but be careful with what you say”

“what does that even mean? what do you mean by that?” milo freaked out as he rubbed his hands over his face in worry.

“milo, calm down. so when you talk to my dad specifically, just don’t mention politics. he gets way too into it. he’s a great man, has a big heart, would do anything for the ones he loves, but is not great with the politics topic. regardless, he will love you, because he will see how happy i am and how much i love you” Y/N cooed as she sat up in milo’s lap to look up into his eyes.

“good to know. but i never bring up politics in the first conversations with anyone. what about your older brother? what do i need to know about him?” milo asked as his large hand moved down to rub Y/Ns upper thigh.

“he’s a big goof. he’s 8 years older than me, so he’s insanely over protective, so at first he’s gonna interrogate you and ask about our relationship. be open and honest, which i know you will be. once he sees your goofy side, he will fold. especially when he sees how much you make me smile” Y/N spoke as she caressed milo’s cheek, rubbing her thumb over his cheek bone. “continue with your sister” milo smiled as he leaned into her hand.

“now my sister is who you need to worry about most. she’s unpredictable. you and her definitely align politically, but she hates men, minus our dad, brothers and her boyfriend. she’s gonna try to dig deep. she will be blunt and ask some super personal questions, specifically about us. don’t answer the intimate questions. she will be so mad that i didn’t tell her that i finally slept with a guy and will be super offended. i don’t want her to take it out of you. she’s a fireball for sure. i won’t lie, i don’t know if she will love you or not, because it’s a 50/50. but she probably will” Y/N let out overwhelming information about her sister.

“oh. is she the only one who won’t like me?” milo frowned. he definitely isn’t used to people not liking him. everyone loved milo. he connects with everyone he’s ever met it felt like.

“i didn’t say she wouldn’t like you. i just said it’s a 50/50. my mom will also be intrusive about those super personal intimate questions. but i don’t like my family knowing my business. so avoid answering them. make a hand signal to me if anything. but i know she will love you. probably won’t shut up about you once she meets you. she watched a lot of your mom when i was growing up, on ghost whisperer” Y/N chuckled as she looks into her boyfriends scared eyes. “stop worrying. you’ll do just fine” she smiled as she leans in, and planted her plump lips onto his, giving him a few kisses before pulling away.

“and as for my little brother, you and him will probably get along more than i’d like to admit. he’s more serious, but you two think a lot alike. and you two have the biggest hearts and are both super selfless. ew i hate comparing you two. except he’s kinda a dick when he’s mad at me” Y/N chuckled as milo giggled as she spoke.

“okay i’m gonna do great, but you never answered my question, when is this?” milo asked.

“next weekend, in my home state of kansas. you’ve never been, have you?”

“next weekend?! that’s like no time to prepare. and when would i — an LA born and raised guy, who now lives in NYC — have ever gone to kansas of all places? no offense that is”

“fair point. and you’ll do fine. is your mom coming into the city this week at all? or do you want lou to stay with griff?” Y/N asked, and with the sound of his name, little lou ran from around the corner onto their shared couch into their laps.

“ugh lou, you hear that? Y/Ns dragging your dad from you! i’m gonna miss you so much i might cry” milo exaggerated to his dog, lou, who just licked away at milo’s face.

“and i think griff can watch him. my mom has filming to do in LA still” milo continued.

“ugh. you sound like my father when he talks to his dog bax. there’s something you two can bond over” Y/N groaned as she pushed her left hand to milo’s abdomen to help her stand up.

“hey, wait! where are you going? i thought you wanted to cuddle?” he asked as he gently grabbed her wrist.

“i do i do. i just need to go shower. my mom called before i could even take one. i need to wash my hair”

“can i at least come with?” milo asks cheekily.

“come on” Y/N smiles as she grabbed the hand of his that was wrapped around her wrist just mere seconds ago.

-

“okay, so my mom said to text her or call her or whatever when we land. she offered to pick us up, but i told her we’d be fine and that we rented a car”

“is this flight almost over? because to be honest babe, i’m not comprehending anything you’re saying. i just want off this plane” milo pouted, as he laid his head against Y/Ns shoulder. in return, she started to scratch his head of curls.

“yes love, that’s why i was telling you the plan for when we get off. we have like 15 more minutes. are you feeling okay?” Y/N softly asked her boyfriend who lies against her left shoulder. milo had always let her have the window seat, as that was her favorite, even though he’d typically sit there when he flew.

“yeah, just nervous about this flight, and meeting your family tomorrow” he sighs out softly.

“you’re gonna do just fine, sweet boy. when we get off the plane and get our rental, we will head straight to our hotel. and we can just cuddle” Y/N cooed as she kisses the top of his head, hearing a hum of agreement in return on his part.

-

“here we are. i booked the suite for us. even though we’re only staying for a few days, now i don’t know about you, but i’m gonna go shower, change, and get ready for bed because i’m exhausted” Y/N smiled as she sat her luggage down next to the bed the two would be sharing for the next few nights.

“you do that babe, i’m gonna get the clothes i’m gonna wear tomorrow out” milo spoke sweetly as he pecked her cheek. Y/N grinned as she opened her suitcase to grab her toiletries, clothes and skin care items before heading to the large bathroom connected to their room.

once Y/N was finished with her shower, and wrapped up in a complimentary robe, she began to do her nightly routine, only to be met with milo, who was getting ready to take his own shower.

milo stood shirtless, only in his boxers as he looked down at Y/N, “i’ll only be ten minutes. please give me another rundown when i’m done with my shower?”

Y/N softly laid her small hand slightly above his waist, on his bare side, looking up at him, “of course. i may have left some things out anyways” and with that milo leant down and pecked Y/N on the lips softly, before proceeding to undress fully and enter the shower.

-

shortly after Y/N did her nightly routine, she walked out of the bathroom and to milo’s suitcase, digging through it for a t-shirt of his to wear to bed. once she found it, she tiredly put on her underwear and then his t-shirt and climbed into bed, where she laid waiting for her boyfriend.

“okay, so you said you may have forgotten some stuff? what else do i need to know babe?” milo asked as he walked into the bedroom, ruffling his dark curls with a towel, in nothing but his boxers. he turned around and walked briefly back into the bathroom to hang the towel and quickly ran back into the bedroom and on top of Y/N as she quietly giggled below the tall man.

“my love, no offense but you are too heavy, get off of me. not all of us can be six-foot plus. scoot over” she keeps giggling as she attempted to shove his large frame off of her.

he scoffed lightly, turning to look at her in disbelief, “six-foot-three baby. don’t sell me short. and i can’t help you’re tiny. you’re like so short”

“quit griping and teasing me and get under the damn covers already” she sassed back. he silently obeyed with a smirk plastered on his face. he was wrapped around her finger. she knew it. and so did he. but milo didn’t care one bit. once he was under the covers, he wrapped his arm around her, and snaked his hand down her side, brushing up his shirt she’d been wearing, to rest against her bare side, pulling her closer to his bare chest.

“will you please give me another run down already?”

“milo, you sound like a broken record player”

“Y/N come onnnnnn” he teased her.

“ugh, okay fine. so we need to be there by two-thirty. that’s what time i told my mom we’d be there. which means she’s gonna expect us to be there right on the dot. i’m also assuming everyone in the family knows i’m bringing a guy so they will all be there right at two o clock to gossip and to be there when we arrive” Y/N mumbles against milo’s chest as she spoke of the next days plan. she softly scratched right below his sternum just the way he enjoyed before she continued again, “another thing you should know, i used to work there at this event venue for two years when i was nineteen up until i was twenty-one. so don’t be surprised if people come up to me and start talking and asking a bunch of questions”

“okay noted. and what’s the dress code for this thing again? i set out my light washed jeans, birk slide ons and my brazil tank. will that work?”

“yes. that will be perfect. especially since it will be decently hot tomorrow afternoon. kansas city weather can be crazy in the early fall. also, do me a favor”

“what would that be babe?” milo asked as he arched a brow.

“wear those damn glasses. you always look so good in them” Y/N smiled as she snuggled her face further into milo’s chest.

“i will for you i guess. love you, ya sweet, short, queen. also, what did you decide to wear?”

“heyyy i can’t help that. but at least you called me a queen. i love you too mi. and i’m gonna wear that light green tie front blouse with my medium washed levi’s curvy styled flared jeans and my green retro new balances that you bought me a few months ago to match yours” Y/N said as she propped her chin up on his chest. he leaned down to kiss her lips softly a few times, before pulling away. “i love that top on you. okay go to sleep now” milo mumbled against her lips as his free hand that hadn’t been against her side, moved to grip her thigh, moving it up to rest against his lower stomach.

-

“okay mi, we’re almost there. take the next exit and then you’ll drive down this road for like two minutes and you’ll see the entrance to the ranch”

“okay, but the tesla is doing the driving” milo chuckled as his right hand gripped Y/Ns left thigh as the rental drove itself to their destination.

“quit being such a smartass” Y/N giggled as she glared to her left to look at her lover.

“okay but you love it. you can’t tell me you don’t” milo smirked his signature smirk back at his girl. Y/N just sighed and smiled, shaking her head in defeat.

just as they were pulling into the location, Y/N family were becoming more and more impatient as they waited to meet her boyfriend.

“mom, when is Y/N gonna be here?” mikeala, Y/N big sister asked their mother.

“i told your sister it starts at 2 o’clock. she said she’d be here at 2:30. it’s 2:25. so any minute. you know how she is when she’s getting ready. just like your guys’ grandfather, takes her sweet time”

“so, what do you think her boyfriends like?” james, Y/N older brother asked their mom.

“i’m not sure. i hope he’s nice and good to her. especially if she’s staying with him. but, i won’t lie to you, i don’t know much about him at all. she wouldn’t say much when i asked. wouldn’t even give me a last name” Y/N mother, Y/M/N spoke with an ounce of concern.

“i bet he’s just like most men, horrible” mikeala mumbled out.

“hey, we’re not all bad” will, Y/N younger brother blurted out, even though he was typically quiet.

“will, you know how your sister is gonna be, don’t even bother” Y/N father, Y/F/N spoke as he walked up to the rest of the family.

“oh wait, i think that’s them maybe?” Y/M/N spoke, as she saw a glimpse of Y/N through the tesla window.

“is that-“ james began to speak before will continued his thought. “a tesla? yes, it is” will finished his thought.

“go fucking figure. he’s probably a nepotism baby if she met him in New York City. that’s all i’m saying” mikeala grumbled out, as the rest of the family waited for Y/N to make her way up through the entrance of the venue to where they all were.

“mikeala, be nice. and you three, need to give your sister some room. she hasn’t been back in almost a year. let your father and i talk to her first, then you three can have at it” their mother said to Y/N three siblings as her and milo began to make their way to the entrance.

“babe, wait. what if they don’t like me? then what?” milo spoke out in concern as he gently grabbed Y/N wrist, pulling her back behind a vehicle before they could even enter the event venue.

“mi, for starters they’ll love you. and if they don’t i really don’t give a fuck. got it? i love you regardless” Y/N smiled up at her tall boyfriend. she then stood on her tippie toes, grabbing his neck gently, to pull his tall figure down to her short one for a passionate kiss. he smiled into the kiss as his hands found her hips in the midst, giving them a gentle squeeze. “i love you always” he mumbled against Y/N lips, proceeding to kiss her a few more times before pulling away.

“better?” she questioned him, as he proceeded to nod in confirmation as she dragged his tall, lanky body to the entrance, as they both giggled with smiles as they made their way to Y/N parents. right before doing so, Y/N stopped abruptly, pushing milo back and around a corner, turning to milo blushing. “hold on, you got some of my lip gloss on your lips. the last thing i need is them making comments”

“oh my gosh. will you wipe it off for me please?” milo asked as his cheeks began to become flushed. he let out one of his hoarse giggles in the process.

“lean down baby” she giggled as she met him halfway, by standing on her tippie toes, milo holding her hips to balance her like he always did. Y/N brought her thumb up to his lips and wiped them off until she felt satisfied, all while milo kept trying to not smile or laugh, which would interfere with Y/N wiping them off.

“okay there you go. all good. i would kiss you again but then we would be back at square one” Y/N blushed up to milo.

“accurate statement so i’m gonna give you a kiss here instead” he chuckled as he leant down and planted a singular kiss on the base of her jaw.

“okay, come on lover boy” Y/N smiled in awe as she dragged milo back to the way to where her parents were, approaching them with milo’s large hand in her small dainty one.

“mom! dad!” Y/N cheered as she let go of milo’s hand for a few minutes to give them both big hugs.

“Y/N hunny. you have to come out and visit more often!” Y/N mother spoke as she engulfed her youngest daughter into a warm hug. she pulled away and continued, “and you must be the mystery boyfriend?” she questioned to milo, who stood, towering over Y/N from behind. and everyone else from the looks of it.

“milo! milo manheim. mrs. Y/L/N it’s so nice to finally meet you.” he smiled widely to Y/N mother as she brought him into a hug.

“mom, you remember ghost whisperer?” Y/N smirked to her mother.

“of course i do. what an iconic show that was all those years ago”

“well his mom is camryn manheim. she plays delia in the show” Y/N began to smirk widely as milo gently laid his large hand against the small of her back, blushing as she proudly showed him off.

“no way! how’d you two meet then? and milo call me Y/M/N. i insist” Y/N mother spoke once more to milo as he smiled in return.

“i was working as a side hustle at that theatre as a bartender slash concession stand worker and he came through my line it just happened. we bonded over something and became friends. he’s a very friendly guy.” Y/N giggled as she wrapped her arms around his left forearm.

“dad, you’ve stayed so quiet. milo, meet my dad. dad, meet milo” Y/N smiled as two of her favorite men finally met. milo took a step forward and firmly shook Y/N fathers hand.

“nice to meet you sir” milo spoke kindly.

“you too. you can just call me Y/D/N like everyone else” Y/D/N spoke back to milo. “so milo, what do you do?” he continued.

milo blushed and chuckled before he continued to speak, Y/N right next to him for support. “well sir, i’m an actor. growing up i was always on set with my mom and i just gradually fell in love with the art of it all and got recruited for a movie at sixteen when i was doing theatre. it’s pretty fun”

“that’s lovely. i bet your mom is very proud” Y/M/N spoke up sweetly.

“that’d be an understatement mom. she is always telling mi how proud she is any second she gets. she’s the sweetest” Y/N smiled as she looked up at milo.

“well, it’s nice meeting you milo. now Y/N, your siblings are dying to meet him. wouldn’t stop talking since they found out last week you were bringing him” Y/D/N spoke to his youngest daughter.

“oh my” she sighed with a light chuckle. “mi, you ready?” she continued as she looked up at milo.

“as i’ll ever be love” he gently squeezed her small hands with his large ones.

Y/N began to tug gently at milo’s large hand once more as she navigated her way into the pavilion where her three siblings were impatiently waiting. she’d noticed mikeala and james were arguing over who got to talk to her first as she chuckled.

“yo, would you two stop?” Y/N laughed as she stopped once she approached them, milo standing right behind her with his hand instinctively laid at her side.

“dibs!” mikeala yelled as she walked over before james could, while will just stood quietly waiting for his turn.

“Y/N you bitch! how are you? how’s life been? what’s New York City like? and who is this? did you finally sleep with a guy?” mikeala, Y/N big sister went on.

“woah woah woah mikeala slow down. i’m good. life has been so lovely in the city. i want you to meet my boyfriend milo” Y/N began answering her big sisters questions, ignoring the one she had already warned milo about. she soon turned, grabbing milo hand instinctively, looking up at him lovingly, “mi, i want you to meet my big sister, mikeala”

“hey, nice to meet you mikeala. heard a lot about you. names milo manheim. wow baby, i feel like im in an interview” milo waved to Y/N sister and whispered the last part to Y/N.

“wait as in the great, amazing actress camryn manheim? she’s such a legend to women all around. also i hope they were good things spoken about me from Y/N” mikeala spoke as she unknowingly mentioned her sisters boyfriends mother.

“yeah, like her. but honestly, i just call her mom” milo nonchalantly spoke without even thinking about a single thing.

“i’m sorry, what?”

“i’m camryn’s son?” milo spoke with question.

“Y/N, you mean you’ve been keeping this from me? for like how long?” mikeala freaked out.

“i’ve known him for about 13 months, but we’ve been dating for 10? does that sound about right?” Y/N answered her sisters question as a new question arose, turning to look up at milo.

“yeah, because you moved in a month after we became friends. we met in august, so that means it was in september when you moved in and then we started dating three months later in december and it’s now september. it’s all too confusing” milo explained to his small girlfriend.

“you didn’t answer my other question Y/N. tell me all the deets. when did you finally sleep with a guy?” mikeala leaned into her little sisters ear, attempting to whisper, but failed as milo heard. milo giggled when he heard mikeala as she kept pushing her little sister to fess up, but she wasn’t going to budge.

“mikeala, i told you already, i am waiting. i’m not giving that up easily” Y/N spoke with a slight chuckle as she leaned back into milo’s chest. milo just draped his long arms over the front of Y/N body, as Y/N held onto his forearms, all while he held her up with his tall figure.

milo smirked as he opened his mouth, “i’m a good jewish boy”

once mikeala turned around, milo leaned down to Y/N ear and whispered gently, “um that’s… a lie on your part. what i said was the truth”

“she doesn’t have to know” Y/N giggled in a whisper, just as mikeala was turning back around to face them. and in that moment milo had placed a kiss to Y/N cheek softly.

“okay on to the big bro, although you’re taller than him mi” Y/N chuckled once again at her own joke.

Y/N stood back up from leaning against milo’s chest, and walked her way over to her big brother, as she continued to drag milo through it all. milo simply obliged, even though he was so nervous through it all. so far, he felt like her family liked him a little bit, but he wasn’t done meeting them all yet.

“james! i missed you!” Y/N freaked out when she saw her big brother. she let go of milo’s hand and jumped into james’ arms, as her big brother gave her a warm hug. milo, who was standing just behind her smiled wide. he knew she’d missed her family a lot. so it made him over the moon happy, to see her having a blast seeing her whole family again after so long.

“how are you sis? who’s this? i heard you got a boyfriend?!” james started to press his youngest sister for answers to his questions, all while glaring up at milo. sure james was tall, but milo was still taller than him. milo was pretty used to that by now; having a height advantage.

just as Y/N pulled away from her big brother, milo slyly placed his left hand against her lower back all while putting his right hand out to shake james’. grudgingly, james shook milo’s hand, as Y/N stared her big brother down. he was always protective over her. she’d always been so overly trusting and naive. he was constantly worried she was gonna get her heart broken all over again. boys always did that to her. they’d make her feel comfortable, then rip her heart out like it was a sport. she would give them her all and they’d give nothing in return.

“nice to meet you james. i’m milo, but uh i think you have probably already been told that” milo sighed as he scratched the back of his neck.

“so i’ve heard” james let out somewhat aggressively. Y/N glared up at her big brother the moment he did that.

“james knock it off. seriously. i know what you’re thinking” she began as she stopped to look at milo for a second. “baby, give me a minute with my asshole of an older brother. okay?” she spoke softly up at milo. milo smiled weakly, as he grew increasingly more anxious by the second. before he could even get a word of confirmation out, Y/N had placed a gentle kiss to the corner of his lips, making me smile shyly, knowing james was watching.

“james… don't be a dick. i know that you’re just trying to look out her me. i get it. i get that i've been hurt a lot in the past by so many guys. but when i tell you, mi isn’t like them i mean it” she began to lecture her over protective brother. “when i tell you this man pretty much saved me from going homeless in new york city all while i was having a damn mental breakdown i mean it. he has a heart of gold james. so quit treating him like he broke my damn heart when he never did” Y/N kept on to her brother as she continuously jabbed her index finger into his chest with each sentence. “now how about you go say hi properly to my boyfriend”

james walked back over to where milo was nervously waiting for Y/N to get done speaking to her older brother. as soon as she was in arms reach, he gently grabbed her hand out of anxiety. “mi, you good?” she gently asked him as she looked up at him through her long lashes. he in return smiled widely to her with a nod.

“okay, i’m sorry i was just being a dick. can’t help but be overly protective over my baby sister. she just means a lot to me and i worry she will get her heart broken once again. but she told me how you helped her. thank you for that” james smiled sincerely to milo.

looking down at Y/N who had her body leaning into his side, milo spoke softly to his girl, “you told him? i thought you didn’t want anyone to know?”

“he was being a dick to you and so i knew the only way to get through to him was to tell him about how you let me move in when i couldn’t pay my rent” she shyly smiled, slightly embarrassed to admit her own struggles just a mere twelve months ago.

“well, hey, i don’t know why you’re still so embarrassed by it. lou loves you. you’re his mom now” he spoke as he wrapped his arms around her short figure, pulling her closer to him. “speaking of which i miss him” milo continued as he pouted at the mere thought of not having his dog with him.

“i’m sorry, but what? you have a kid?” james slowly began to freak out internally.

“oh woah, no. well, yes, but no. not a human kid. but a- i- i’m a dog dad” milo began to stutter and explain who lou was to her brother.

“a dog dad?”

“uh yeah. lou is the best son ever. he doesn’t back talk me and he loves me unconditionally. what more could you ask for in a son?” milo began as Y/N giggled into his chest when she leaned into it.

“whatever you say man. damn, you sound just like our father when talking about bax” james laughed, as he patted milo’s shoulder before walking away.

“oh my gosh. that was awful” milo began as Y/N pulled away, dragging milo over to the last person he had to meet from her family, will, her genius little brother.

she let go of milo, and ran to will, forcing him to give her a hug against his own will. if it were up to him, there would be no such thing as hugs. he hated them with a passion. “william! how’s school? you still have all A’s right? what’d you get on your geography test? oh also meet milo”

“hi, milo, nice to meet you” will began to shake milo’s hand only after shyly conversing with his sisters boyfriend. will began to speak again, “i got a 98% by the way. and i still have straight A’s. i must graduate college with a 4.0 or i’m gonna lose my mind. i’ve only ever gotten one B in my life in high school and remember that knocked me down four spots on the class rankings”

“geography huh? is that your minor? right? i think that’s what your sister told me” milo questioned will about his college degree choice.

“it’s my minor. well one of them. i have another in spanish. and im majoring in environmental engineering”

“damn bro you’re a genius. sorry, Y/N told me you don’t like it when people say that. and if you ever need any help studying geography, i gotchu. you can either call your sister or she can send you my number and i can help you”

“milo’s really, really good at pointing any and every country in the globe out and correctly naming it. i wish i was joking will, but im not. now in the spanish he only knows a smidge and then nothing about science” Y/N laughed as she spoke to her baby brother.

“oh wow. thank you. i’ll be sure to take you up on that offer eventually. im gonna go get some of that barbecue while they’re still serving it” will smiled politely to Y/N and milo, before walking off.

looking up at milo, Y/N began to speak to him, “william is just super shy. i can already tell he likes you a lot. i can sense with my baby brother that you made him feel comfortable. thank you for that”

“just being myself. my charming, charismatic, somewhat flirtatious self that i’m really trying not to be. i’m so sorry for that part. last thing i need is your family disliking me for being a natural flirt”milo laughed to Y/N.

“hey, don’t apologize for being you. those are all the reasons why i love you and many more” Y/N smiled up at him as she scratched the back of his neck. “oh really? but wait, how much do you love me?” milo smirked his charming smile down to his girlfriend. he continued, “enough to kiss me while you’re family is eyeing us down?”

“you know how much i hate pda, but you also know how much i love you” Y/N smiled as milo’s large hands gripped her waist, pulling her into his tall body, pressing her lightly against his figure, helping balance her as she stood on her tippy toes. she’d moved her small hands from scratching the back of his neck to cup his scruff covered cheeks. milo met her half way, as he leant down to meet her lips mumbling into the kiss while smiling, “mmhm that i do”

pulling away, Y/N spoke, “so do you wanna play the annual bingo they host at these? it’s kinda like a family competition on who gets the most wins within the family”

“oh no, how competitive is your family? because i know how you get when we’re playing catan with our friends” milo chuckled as he still held her hips in his hands as he looked down at her with only pure love within.

“on a scale of 1-10, i’d say about an 8.4. but i think will and my dad are the worst. and im pretty sure you’re the one who’s competitive when it comes to catan” Y/N spoke as she grabbed milo’s hand and dragged him to the huge tent where the bingo game was being played.

-

“there’s no way you just got your third bingo. Y/N he’s cheating!” mikeala whined to her little sister about milo. milo had just won his third bingo in the last fifty minutes of playing the game. only three other people had won bingos and it was starting to irritate Y/N family with how good of luck milo had had for the game of bingo.

leaning over to Y/N ear, milo whispered, “i thought you said only will and your dad were the hardcore competitive ones? care to tell me why you left out your sisters name baby?”

milo pulled away from Y/N ear, gripping her lower thigh and began to rub it, as she had her legs laying across his lap as they played the game of bingo. she always had to be touching milo in any way anywhere they went. even if it was just in the comfort of their home. they were inseparable. or maybe it was milo who had to be touching her. either way, the two of them both loved each others touch. it always brought comfort to one another. Y/N had always worried about pda in front of her family, but for some reason she realized when it came to milo, all of that anxiety went out the window. she felt at peace when he did it, rather than the anxiety she’d always felt with her ex lovers.

“okay, so maybe i forgot to mention she’s quite competitive as well. she did play volleyball, that’s probably where she picked it up” Y/N smiled as she began to twiddle with the fingers from milo’s hand that had been rubbing her thigh.

“wowww, you don’t say. i didn’t notice that you forgot to mention it” milo teased as the two exchanged smiles. mikeala just looked across the table at her lovesick sister, making her want to vomit. she’d been waiting her whole life to see her sister in love, but now she was already sick of it, just like most siblings would be.

“i’m gonna go get us some drinks, what do you want? corona?” Y/N asked as she began to stand, milo grabbing his wallet for Y/N to take, already knowing she didn’t have cash for the tip. she’d never carried cash. she knew that and so did he.

“yeah that works for me. here, just take my wallet. cash is in it for the tips. you and i both know you don’t carry cash” he smirked up at her followed with a wink.

“ugh, fine. also behave. please don’t say anything stupid. i’ll be right back. if i’m not back in 5, just come looking for me? means i probably ran into someone i know” Y/N giggled as she ruffled milo’s hair, giving him a quick scratch to the top of his shaggy head of curls. “deal.” and with that Y/N walked off to get them drinks, leaving him all alone with her whole family.

“could you two be more disgusting? i swear, my boyfriend and i weren’t even this bad. and even when we showed any ounce of affection you know what Y/N would do?” mikeala began with slight attitude, making milo slightly anxious.

“my guess, she probably pretended to vomit, and say how gross pda is and how much she dislikes it and how she would never be like that” milo let out as he leaned back into his seat with his long legs spread.

“wro- wait. how do you know that?” mikeala laughed with shock.

“yeah, how’d you know that fact?” will asked curiously, as Y/N parents, and all three siblings stared his way, waiting for an answer.

“i- uh- well, i, we were friends before we started dating. so anytime we went out, with our friends, and saw couples being couples she’d rant about how gross it was. or when we’d watch some stupid reality tv show before we’d go to bed, and she’d go on about why she hated it so much and how she’d never be like them” milo stuttered, not expecting such a question from her family.

“then why does she do it with you? it’s just weird”james questioned. Y/M/N followed up, “it is, only because she’s never been like this with anyone else”

“hmh” milo questioned to himself as her family continued to speak.

“wait how did you and Y/N meet again milo?” Y/D/N quirked an eyebrow to milo as he interrogated his youngest daughter’s new boyfriend.

“uh so she was working at the concessions at one of the disney owned broadway theaters in time square area. she’d complimented my shirt, weird enough, and i- i- uh made a flirty comment. not gonna lie here, it comes naturally with the manheims” milo nervously chuckled as he lifted his hands up in defense. he soon continued his story, “and then she fired back with some witty, sassy comeback, teasing me about my previous sentence. we had a short conversation after that, and that’s when i found out she was an aspiring photographer, and was working there at the theater as a side hustle. she just, i don’t know, felt so easy to talk to. i felt a connection within that first interaction. knew i couldn’t leave that night without leaving my number for her” milo looked down at his hands that lay in his lap, nervously picking at the beds of his thumbs as he waited for Y/N to return.

“hmh, sounds just like my daughter with the witty, sassy comeback. pretty sure she learned it from me. also, where the hell is she?” Y/D/N laughed gently as he sat back in his chair.

“i’ve heard that one for sure. and i’m not sure, it’s definitely been over 5 minutes, which means i’m due to go find her. her wish is my command always. if you’ll excuse me” milo politely commented as he stood up from the chair to go find his girl.

milo began walking from under the large tent to the pavilion just across the way, where the bar was located, but didn’t see Y/N in sight. he then continued to the larger barn looking building, where all the food had been being served on the inside. he continued walking on the outside of the building until he reached the concessions, but still had no sign of her.

worriedly, he pulled out his phone and started typing away a text message to her.

Mi<3: baby, where are you? you’ve been gone for 10 minutes. i can’t find you anywhere, getting a bit worried.

as soon as he sent the message he heard her phone go off from behind the concessions. groaning, as he threw his head back, he unlatched the gate that was meant to keep guests out, he began his walk to behind the concessions. he’d only groaned because he knew he was breaking the rules and he hated doing that. but he’d do absolutely anything for Y/N. milo stopped as soon as he heard a deep male voice.

“glad you got my text Y/N! how’ve you been?” the tall, tan guy asked milo’s girlfriend, as the two hugged. the guy for sure towered over Y/N but definitely not to the extent that milo did. the young guy continued as the two pulled out of the hug, “as soon as charlie texted me telling me he saw you with your family, i knew i had to shoot you a text to meet up here”

milo knew he shouldn’t have been ease dropping, but he just couldn’t help himself. he needed to know what was going on.

“i’ve been great, real great. but you would’ve known that if you hadn’t blocked me on instagram after rejecting me, after i confessed my feelings to you when you’d been leading me on for that past year. but whatever that was over two years ago” Y/N sassily spoke her witty comeback. it took everything in milo to not laugh at her bluntness to what seemed to be an ex lover of hers.

“about that, i’m so sorry. i- i just got so nervous when you said you liked me, that i didn’t know what to do, especially because you were twenty-one and i was nineteen. i thought maybe we could try something again?” Y/N ex lover began to speak what he’d wanted to say.

milo, who’d been standing around the corner, couldn’t take another second of this. he wouldn’t openly admit it, but he was insanely jealous of the whole situation… and maybe slightly pissed. not at Y/N, but at the guy, thinking he could break her heart just a couple years before, and still have the audacity to try and get her back. not on his watch.

and on queue, milo walked straight in to Y/N rescue, wrapping his arm around one of her shoulders and around her chest diagonally from behind. looking down at her, as she looked up to her savior, in more ways than one, smiling widely to him with only love in both of their eyes.

“hey, sorry, i know i wasn’t supposed to walk through that gate baby, but like i was getting worried, same with your family, and heard your soft voice from behind the concessions.

“it’s okay mi, it literally isn’t that big of a deal. robert, the owner wouldn’t really care much anyways” Y/N raised her hand, to gently scratch milo’s scruff covered cheek.

“oh, sorry, names milo. nice to meet you” milo smiled widely to the young man who stood across from him and Y/N, as he put his right hand out to shake the guys.

“xavier, don’t worry about it. so are you like…?” xavier, Y/N ex lover began after he willingly shook milo’s hand.

“milo’s my boyfriend. milo, this is my old coworker, xavier. also, where’s your dad at? i can’t leave here today without seeing him. i adore your dad so much” Y/N chuckled, remembering how his dad had always treated her like family.

“y-yeah, he’d love to see you. he asks about you every now and then. and boyfriend? huh.” xavier shrugged with a frown.

“yeah, i met milo a little over a year ago living in new york city. and i’ll be sure to find your dad before we leave. my parents are probably freaking out right about now since ive been gone so long and now milo has as well. it was good seeing you” Y/N smiled to xavier and sent him a little wave.

“you too. good meeting you milo”

“you too bro” milo smiled weakly as him and Y/N began to walk away, and back through the gate, all the way over to where her family was still playing bingo.

however the rest of the time the two were there, milo became more silent as the clock ticked. still, he held her legs in his lap, rubbing her thigh. for some odd reason he just felt so jealous knowing that her ex fling, really tried to get back with her. he didn’t know why he felt jealous though. really, he had nothing to be jealous about. he knew that. but yet he still couldn’t help the feeling. and it was driving him insane.

“milo” james called his name again as Y/N patted his thigh.

“oh, sorry. what was that?” milo asked as his cheeks began to turn red from embarrassment.

“i asked how you liked today. hopefully we werent too intrusive and annoying” james laughed at his little sisters boyfriend.

“oh, i really enjoyed meeting you all. it’s so nice to finally meet the people who made Y/N who she is and who she’s always talking about. and trust me, none of you were annoying” milo gave a tight lipped smile. somehow when he smiled it always looked upside down. but that was just another thing Y/N loved about her man.

“wait, you talk about us?” will exclaimed from across the table to his big sister.

“uh yeah? is that a shock to you? you have no idea how much i’ve missed you guys. i was going actually insane before i met milo.”

“she was always constantly showing me photos and videos of you all. she won’t admit it but she was homesick” milo smirked, informing Y/N family of how she was feeling.

shoving his broad shoulder, Y/N began to whine at milo, “stop it mi, i’ll never hear the end of this from them. like ever”

milo chuckled, “fine fine, she didn’t miss home at all. lou keeps her busy”

“who is lou?” Y/D/N asked milo in a stern voice with an eyebrow raised.

“oh shit, i mean dang, you never told them about lou?” milo turned to look down at Y/N.

“i guess not?”

“oh my. lou is my dog. Y/N is always babying him and he keeps her occupied when she’s home from work”

“um no, you baby the hell out of that dog” Y/N fired back at her boyfriend.

“i have no idea what you’re talking about” milo shrugged his shoulders, knowing she was right in this conversation.

“uh okay mr. ‘i have to buy him a louis vuitton collar and leash because it matches his name’. and not only that but you tuck him in every night.”

“yeah well you baby him, and you bought a purse he’d fit in for when we go grocery shopping”

“he has a designer collar and leash?” will raised his voice slightly at the shock.

“sounds like you both spoil him. Y/N, milo sounds like your dad with how he treats louie” Y/M/N chuckled as she shoved her husbands shoulder while laughing lightly.

once it was the end of the picnic celebration, Y/N and milo made their way to the tesla rental and buckled up. sitting in silence as milo put in the directions to their fancy hotel, Y/N sat nervously bouncing her leg. she could tell something had been bothering milo, but wasn’t exactly sure as to what it was.

as she continued to bounce her leg and chew on her lip, she felt milo’s gentle touch on her thigh, stopping her from bouncing her leg any further.

“what’s wrong?” milo asked gently, as his thumb rubbed against her leg while his eyes lay on the road.

“just wondering what’s wrong with you” she spoke softly, causing milo to dryly chuckle.

“nothing. i’m fine. just tired, a bit overwhelmed by today” he breathed out. she knew he was lying, though she didn’t want to press him anymore about the topic while he was driving.

as soon as they got back to their hotel, milo laid the rental car keys on the counter of the small kitchen that came with their suite. trudging over to his suitcase to shrug his birkenstocks off, he spoke softly, “i’m going to go shower”

Y/N just sat there on the bed, in deep thought as to what the root of why he was acting weird. moving her hand up to her eye, she wiped a lone tear she hadn’t even realized had fallen from her tear duct.

screw it. she wasn’t gonna just sit out here and wait for him to finish, while she just kept overthinking. hurriedly, she walked into the bathroom quietly, taking off her clothes so she could join him in the shower and force him to tell her what was on his mind. they never fought. she didn’t like this. even if it wasn’t technically fighting.

quietly she walked into the walk-in shower, closing the glass shower door behind her, shocked he didn’t hear her. either that or he was ignoring her, which was her biggest fear.

“mi” Y/N began as she wrapped her arms around his torso from behind continuing again, “what’s wrong? what did i do?”

milo jumped slightly, indicating he hadn’t heard her enter, telling her he’d been in deep thought the whole time he’d been in there. he turned around to look down at her. “you didn’t do anything. i’m just kinda mad? which is so fucking weird for me to say, as i’m a loving guy. i don’t like this feeling”

“mad? what? why? and it’s okay to feel emotions milo, even if it’s a little negative” Y/N cupped his cheek, as his back blocked the water from hitting her.

“because xavier was and still is an ass. to think that he thought he could win you back after breaking your heart not once, but twice, just pisses me off to no extent. i mean honestly, who does he think he is to treat not just any woman, but a woman who is so down to earth, selfless, caring and kind like that? and i may have been a bit jealous” milo let out with slight aggression, not to Y/N, but to the situation he’d watched unfold earlier in the day. he’d of course whispered the last part though, slightly ashamed to the fact he’d let some lousy guy get to him like that. Y/N knew he meant no harm to her with the raise of his voice, which wasn’t too loud thanks to the water of the shower head drowning out part of the volume level he’d been speaking in.

“for starters my love, thank you for your kind words. i’ll be sure to tell your mother you were nice to me” Y/N smiled up at milo, joking to him since his mother was always joking with him to be nice to her, even though he always was. milo responded in a tight lipped smile with a silent chuckle as his hands gripped her waist a little tight, but not enough to make her uncomfortable. she soon continued, “xavier is a dumbass and will always be a dumbass who is very full of himself”

“accurate statement. and i don’t even know the guy. he had such a punchable face Y/N. i dont even know what you saw in him” milo groaned as he threw his head back. Y/N in return just wrapped her arms from around his torso to his neck.

sighing, Y/N looked up nervously to milos brown orbs, “to be honest, i’m not quite sure myself. I really think i just liked the attention and the feeling of being wanted and longed after. It was never something i was, well, am used to”

“well, i hope you know i will always want you. You will always be longed for by me. so please, babe, get used to it” milo chuckled, as he moved a hand to cup her cheek as he looked down into her eyes.

“also, what’s this about jealousy?” she quirked an eyebrow up to milo, and in return throwing his head back groaning.

“you heard that part?”

Y/N nodded her head in return to his question as he groaned once more. “i just really didn’t like another guy hitting on you. especially knowing you two have a past. just makes me mad. i don’t even know why”

“well, lucky you, i don’t want him and never will. you know i once met a guy, who taught me my self worth was much more than i’d even imagined as well as what i deserve in a man? he fixed my broken heart in more ways than one after xavier broke it into millions of pieces. he taught me what it’s like to actually be loved unconditionally. and i wouldn’t trade him for the world. you have absolutely nothing to be jealous of love. if anything, everyone should be jealous of you and how kind hearted and loving you are. i love you and i wouldn’t trade what we have for the world. I am so lucky to have you. i hope you know that. also, remember, it’s okay to feel these emotions babe” Y/N cupped milo’s right cheek as both of them let tears slip from their eyes.

“god, how the fuck did i get so lucky? i love you always” milo sighed as he leaned down to kiss Y/N, as the water ran down the two of their bodies. Nothing in their world mattered in this moment but them.

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