#split me open like a pistachio

[ohthatstragic]

Confessions - p.m

a/n: this will be my first request after my break, so i apologise if it's not up to par, i'm just going through a tough time rn rip, but things will get better. i hope i executed this right, anon! forgive me it not ;(

also pls don’t repost or translate any of my work.. i don’t give you permission to do that.

pairings: maverick x reader

warnings: age gap, angst, alcohol, swearing

wc: 4,576

the request: 'Would you write one in which she has a huge crush on Maverick for so long but she never had the guts to say anything, she doesn't even flirts with him because she's very shy and all, until one day they are at hard deck & she gets drunk & a little sad so she confesses her feelings to him?'

You had a habit of developing feelings for people you could never have. Every time you got close to someone, you couldn't help but fall for them at some point - it was like some curse that a higher being had hexed you with. You never dared to tell them how you truly felt, for the fear of not having love returned. The one time you did cross that line, it changed everything and left a huge scar on your heart. So, now you choose to keep these unwelcome feelings to yourself, hopelessly guarding the sleeve that you wore your heart on.

Sitting quietly across the bar beside Bob, your Y/E/C eyes were glued to Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell who was currently stood chatting with Rooster, the corners of his eyes creasing as he threw his head back in a hearty laugh at something Rooster said. It was never intentional when you fell for someone, especially Maverick. You were well aware of the fact that there was a significant age gap between you and the decorated captain, and that was another reason as to why you would never tell him. He'd never look at you in that way, in your mind he probably saw you as a daughter. 

Maverick's familiar and heart-warming laugh echoed out as you continued to watch the pair, your eyes darting to his hand as he clutched his stomach, laughing. Rooster sported an amused open-mouthed grin on his face and you felt your eyes fall to the ground for a split second, your stomach suddenly twisting in what felt like envy. 

The sharp sound of Bob's jaw crunching down on some peanuts pulled you out of your daze and you looked at him, slightly peeved. You and Bob got along like a house on fire, considering both of you were shy, quiet people. "Every time I see you, you're crunching down on some nuts, be it pistachios or peanuts, Bob." You laughed, leaning back into your seat and letting yourself slide down a little with your hands in your lap. There was an empty booth just to the right of the pool table, so of course, being the introvert you are, you chose to sit there for the night. Bob smiled widely at your comment, his goofy face making you hum in amusement. 

"My mom used to eat them all the time," He smiled at you before bringing a hand up to brush some crumbs off of his uniform. "That's probably where I got the taste for them." Bob added with a soft chuckle, glancing away from you for a moment. You copied him, your eyes running back to find Maverick. This time he wasn't stood with Rooster, he was chatting to Penny at the bar. You felt your heart sink as you watched the two of them share smiles and laughter, and finally hearing it break when you saw Penny place her hand atop of Maverick's. Bob looked back at you, his curious eyes widening when he saw your heart-broken face. "Hey, you okay?" He quietly asked, his fingertips softly brushing against your forearm to catch your attention.

Your gaze darted to Bob, and you quickly sat up in your seat, throwing a reassuring fake smile onto your lips to settle the RIO's nerves. "Yeah, yeah," You chuckled awkwardly, glancing between the table in front of you as you brushed a lock of hair behind your ear. "I'm good, I just zoned out, I think." You nodded slowly, smacking your lips. Bob wasn't too convinced, but he let the weird moment slide, not really wanting to push you any further. He knew he wasn't good at comforting people when they were upset - let alone when they cried. "I think I'm gonna go get a drink." You announced with a huff, quickly standing up as you cleared your throat, trying to get rid of the lump that was slowly building at the back of it.

"O-okay." Bob said, evidently taken aback at your sudden statement. "I'll be with Phoenix." He added, throwing you a supportive smile, despite your obvious malaise. You nodded at him with another fake smile, not trusting your trembling voice to reply verbally. The two of you stood up from your seats and parted ways, your feet taking you to the bar. You chastised yourself for falling for yet another person that you definitely could not have. How could you be so reckless again?

As you reached the bar, your hand reached out to land on the wooden edge, your knuckles whitening as you gripped it. You didn't have the confidence or courage to look to your right to glance at Penny and Maverick. You knew it would hurt too much. So you kept your eyes locked ahead as a new bartender walked towards you with a happy smile. "What can I getcha?" He beamed, leaning against the side of the bar with his hip.

"Double coke and vodka, and two shots please. Strongest shit you have, it doesn't matter." A small smile reached your lips as you looked up at the young man who was serving you. He was tall but well-built, a messy mop of light brown hair sitting atop his head and some thick stubble coating his jaw and cheeks. Couldn't be older than twenty-two.

"Rough night?" He awkwardly joked, hoping you'd see it like that and not him trying to push your buttons. Relief washed over him as he watched an amused grin spread across your cheeks.

"Yeah, you could say that." You replied, sighing, fighting the urge to think about the man a few feet to the side of you. "It's not a night to be remembered, you know what I mean?" You laughed dryly and stupidly cast your gaze to the right, spotting Maverick and Penny with big grins on their faces. Fighting the scoff that threatened to leave your throat, you looked back to the bartender, your tired eyes following the clear liquid as it spilled from the glass bottle that was enveloped delicately by his slender fingers and into your glass of coke.

"Been there, done that, sweetie." He smiled back at you as he finished pouring your shots, sliding them towards you with his fingers, a soft sigh leaving his chest.

"Thanks." You said and quickly threw the two shots back with a grimace as the amber liquor burned down your throat. "Shit, what the hell was that?" You choked out through a cough, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as you fought to regain control of your lungs. The bartender let out an amused chuckle as he watched you, his hands reaching out to collect your empty shot glasses.

"That was three wise men," He answered with a smirk, making you frown at him. "Johnnie Walker, Jack Daniels and Jim Beam in one. Well, two, in your case." The bartender couldn't help the snort that escaped him and you groaned. God, you were definitely gonna feel the effects of that sooner than later.

"Well, I can say for sure that I'm not gonna remember tonight, so thank you." You joked, laughing.

"That's what I'm here for." He said with a kind smile. "I'm Alex by the way." Alex smiled at you, folding his arms against his chest.

"Y/N. Have a good night, Alex, I'm sure I'll be back later on." You said with a dry chuckle. Pursing your lips, you gave him a small smile before you wrapped your fingers around the cold, wet glass of vodka and coke in front of you, walking off in the direction of the squad who were currently creating a ruckus by the pool table.

"It's about time you joined us, Y/C/S," Phoenix grinned, leaning up from the pool table as the loud clack of pool balls echoed from her shot. "Where've you been?" She pried, narrowing her eyes at your blank face.

"Getting drunk." You answered simply, holding back a pitiful laugh. Phoenix eyed you suspiciously, her eyes quickly darting to the new bartender. You quickly put the pieces together and read her mind. "No! No, no, I was not chatting up the new bartender." You affirmed with a laugh, taking a big swig of your drink. Phoenix watched you, her eyes widening and brows twitching upwards in surprise at your unusual behaviour.

"Drunk? You never get drunk, Y/N." She said quietly, glancing between the tight grip you had on your glass and your tired eyes. You let out a small groan and glanced at Hangman and Coyote who were staring at the two of you from the pool table, curious about the conversation you were having with Phoenix. "You good?" She chuckled, a hint of concern evident in her voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just don't want to remember tonight." You stated with a careless shrug, taking another long sip of your drink. The room started to look a little different - you were sure it was because of the alcohol. Phoenix stared at you, but she didn't dare tell you off, she knew that you could handle yourself and you never made mistakes. Well...

"Alright, we're here if you need us, you know you can always come to me if you need a talk, Y/N/N." Phoenix added, raising her hand to place it on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. A lazy smile worked it's way onto your face as you stared up at your friend, your teeth poking out from underneath your lips as it grew into a grin.

"I know, thanks Phoenix, now let's get fucked up." You giggled, your body feeling hot from the alcohol. An amused open-mouthed grin slipped onto Phoenix's face as she slung an arm around your shoulders, walking with you toward a confused Hangman and Coyote.

****

There were a few more drinks in you when a familiar voice perked up behind you.

"Hey, I haven't seen you at all tonight, Y/C/S," Maverick said from behind you with a concerned smile on his face. Admittedly, you had been avoiding him - mainly because it hurt you too much. You didn't want to keep seeing the image of him and Penny together in your mind every time you looked at him. "Are you avoiding me?" He joked, a toothy grin spreading across his cheeks. Being drunk, you interpreted his joke as a serious question.

"What- No!" You replied a little too quickly, earning a confused frown from the older pilot. Your heart started to hammer against your ribcage and you nibbled on your bottom lip - a nervous habit you developed when you were a small child. "No, I've just err, been with Phoenix and Bob most of the night." You quietly said, trying to control your lips so you didn't slur your words. Although, that was a lost cause.

"Are you drunk, sweetheart?" Maverick asked teasingly. He noticed the weird twang in your voice and his brows knitted together, an amused chuckle leaving his lips. You held back the groan that threatened to slip out, the use of the pet name making you go weak in the knees.

"Err, no..." You slurred, shaking your head vigorously, the strands of your hair dangling over your eyes. "Maybe.." You added quietly, looking away from the captain with an awkward, guilty look on your face. A lopsided smile picked at the corner of his mouth as he stared at you.

"Never thought I'd see the day." Maverick joked, raising the bottle of beer to his lips to take a sip. "What's the occasion?" He asked, swallowing the rest of his beer with a hiss.

"Just a bad night." You shrugged as an awkward laugh or hiccup escaped you. Maverick looked at you with a frown; concern painting his features. "It's nothing, really. I'd rather not get into it." You assured the captain, your heart twisting in your chest as a sea of sorrow took hold. Maverick didn't say anything, he only nodded slowly, his eyes still attached to you. He wasn't one to push someone about their problems, he had his own and he would rather them be willing to talk about it.

"I'm gonna go find Phoenix, we agreed to be toilet buddies tonight." You said, quickly standing up like you were desperate to rid yourself of this situation. Deep down, you were. You weren't sure how long you'd be able to handle this tonight. Maverick gave you another silent nod, pursing his lips as he smiled at you. Internally, you groaned - you've definitely ruined that, then.

With a quiet 'okay', you walked from Maverick with a shaky breath, eyes shooting up to search for Phoenix's figure. Throwing your hazy gaze around the bar, you found her stood at the bar with Rooster, his classic Hawaiian shirt hanging loosely on his body. Phoenix caught sight of you and poked her head above Rooster's tall shoulder, a bright smile reaching her lips.

You forced a smile onto your face as you looked back at her. "Hey!" Rooster noticed Phoenix's change in attention and he twisted his body around to where she was looking, his big, brown eyes falling onto your smaller body. A grin quickly spread across his cheeks, shining white teeth poking out.

"Y/C/S," Rooster chuckled, the corners of his eyes creasing out of happiness. "How-"

"Down for some shots? They're on me." You quickly said, avoiding his question. Quite obviously, you were not well equipped to answer that question - you were just about holding onto your tears and sobs with a thinning string. Rooster bit down on his bottom lip with a frown, glancing at his squad-mate, Phoenix. She stared at him and shook her head, silently telling him to go along with it.

"Uhh. Yeah, sure, Y/N." Rooster swallowed, feigning a happy smile. Deep down he was itching to know what had gotten into you - after all you were like his little sister, the two of you shared a lot of common interests. However, he would never dare to press you for information. The pilot knew how it felt. "What're you getting?"

"A mix of whiskies." You replied nonchalantly like it was the normal thing you'd order. "Alex said it's called Three Blind Men, or something like that." A frustrated sigh made your chest heave, and Rooster knew right then that something was definitely bothering you. As if Phoenix was psychic, she placed a firm hand on Rooster's arm to halt him from going any further. His head whipped around to face her as his wide eyes dipped into Phoenix's cautious brown ones, distress and concern evident on his worn features. In the background, he could hear you ordering for the three of you.

Reluctantly, Rooster clenched his jaw as he stepped back, staring at the carpeted floor. "It's for the best, Bradshaw." Phoenix muttered to him, making his worried brown eyes flick up to meet hers. He acknowledged Phoenix's words with a gentle nod, the helpless look on his face switching to a grin as you turned around, your hands adorned with shot glasses spilling over with alcohol.

"Let me know what you think of this." You grinned despite the harrowing empty feeling growing inside you. Rooster and Phoenix hesitantly accepted the shots, watching you throw back two- three in a row. Their mouths hung agape at your abnormal behaviour. "The burn really hits you at the end." You giggled, hissing through your teeth. Phoenix and Rooster cheers'd each other and repeated your previous action, swallowing the amber liquid with a cough.

"Jesus," Phoenix choked out, setting the glass down with a heavy thud. Rooster was coughing in an attempt to compose himself as he recovered from the heavy alcohol. "Have you been drinking this all night?!" She exclaimed, brows shooting up in shock like a bullet.

Your body suddenly felt wavy, and a wave of heat rushed over you. "Yep." You proudly hiccupped, a sloppy smile spreading across your face as you stared between the two pilots. Being drunk, you didn't notice their very concerned expressions, and mistook them for happy ones, so you threw two thumbs up in the air with an open-mouthed grin, wobbling on your feet.

"Hey, why don't we go sit down?" Rooster suggested, quickly walking over to grab you by the arms to lead you to the closest table. Phoenix swiftly followed. You grumbled at Rooster, your fingers flying to fumble against his strong grip on your arms.

"No, I don't wanna sit," You groaned and your lips pouted as you stared up at your friends, thudding down onto the booth's seat. "Rooster play Balls of Fire!" You suddenly exclaimed as you caught sight of the piano, your eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree. Phoenix had to bite back her laugh as she looked at your child-like expression - your eyes had widened like a fruit bat and your mouth was open in a joyful grin, your cheeks pinkening from either the excitement that was suddenly jolting through your body, or the alcohol you'd just consumed. She decided it was a mixture of the two.

"Rooster will play later on, Y/N, won't you?" Phoenix smiled, brushing a hand over your head in an attempt to soothe you. Rooster threw a confused look at his friend, but he quickly nodded in agreement, matching her happy tone.

"Yeah, and you can help me, don't worry, Y/N." He grinned down at you, despite the painful worry that was seeping into his chest. The man was worried about you - what the hell was making you drink so heavily? He knew you'd tell him when you were ready, but this was a little concerning.

As you stared up at your two squad-mates, your ears began to buzz and you felt your vision blurring as you zoned out, your mind soon painting a picture of the reason why you were acting so recklessly. The familiar mop of dark, brown hair sat atop tanned skinned appeared in your mind; the silhouette of a green aviator jacket suddenly materialising. Soon enough, Maverick had overtaken your brain.

"Y/N!" Rooster's stern voice ripped you from your daydream daze, your eyes twitching as you were brought back to the reality you'd began to hate. "You good?" He asked, his hand firmly grasping your shoulder. The happy grin that once claimed your face had melted away, and a subtle frown replaced it. Your eyes fell to the table as you thought back to the moment you saw Maverick and Penny hold hands at the bar.

"Yeah, yeah," You blinked, quickly throwing a convincing smile Rooster's way. "Can I be alone for a bit? I don't feel so good." You admitted, letting your head rest lazily against your hand. A groan left your throat as Rooster sighed - a sign of defeat.

"Sure, Y/N." He replied quietly, reluctantly walking away as he gave you one last look, the worried look on his face never leaving. Phoenix followed him and placed a supportive hand on his back, throwing you a sympathetic smile.

"Christ," You let your head fall onto the table with a gentle thud, the pain numbed by the amount of alcohol running through your system. "Can this get any worse?" You mumbled to yourself as you slowly raised your head, squinting your eyes at an approaching, blurry figure. A familiar one, at that...

"May I?" The voice asked as you closed your eyes, drunkenly humming in reply to it. A chuckle reached your ears and your body flinched at it, suddenly realising who the hell had come to see you.

"Mav...?" You quietly asked, praying to the heavens above that it wasn't.

"Yeah?" He answered. You felt your heart drop and your stomach knot together.

"Hi, Mav." You sat up, feeling slightly uneasy. Running a hand through your dishevelled hair, you swallowed thickly before meeting his amused eyes. Internally you cringed, you were mortified to have him see you like this - this was not the plan at all. "So, how are you and Penny?" You blurted out, a hint of jealousy sprinkled in your voice. Maverick's brow cocked up in curiosity.

"Me and Penny?" He repeated, obviously confused.

"Yeaaah," You slurred, clumsily staring at him. "I saw you and her hold hands earlier, aren't you a thing?" You stated with a huff, clearly effected by it. The captain frowned at your confrontational behaviour, wholly confused as to why you seemed so effected by what you had seen. To him, it was a friendly gesture - there were no romantic intentions behind it.

"I think you have it wrong, Y/N." Maverick smiled, trying to defuse the growing tense situation.

"No, I'm never wrong, especially with things.. like this.." You shrugged, tearing your gaze from his to have it land on the table you shared. "The two of you have history anyway, so it'd make sense, you know? You're pretty much perfect for each other, I don't know why you haven't made a move yet, Mav, you must be blind or something." You laughed as you rambled on, never once looking up at the man in front of you. It would hurt too much, and you definitely knew you wouldn't be able to handle the immense emotion that'd overcome you.

"Y/N, what's gotten into you?" Maverick asked quietly, his voice laced with worry.

"Nothing, it's nothing," You wrinkled your nose up as you felt a lump begin to form in the back of your throat. Swallowing, you picked up all the courage you could to look at Maverick. Boy, did you regret that. Almost instantly you felt your eyes burn with tears, and you rushed to bite down on your lip in a feeble attempt to stop them.

Maverick quickly noticed your brimming eyes and he sat forward, his once happy eyes softening into an obvious show of worry. "You can tell me anything, what's wrong, Y/N?" He softly said, a kind smile falling onto his lips. You squeezed your eyes shut as you looked down at the table, your heart bursting at the seams.

"No, I can't tell you this." You choked out, inhaling a sharp breath through your teeth as the tears - along with the alcohol - blurred your vision. "It's complicated." You added with a quiet sob.

"Y/N," Maverick gently said, making your stomach do flips. "Let me help, what is it?" The captain blinked at you, his eyes gazing into your own with a soft look on his face.

You went silent for a while, and inside of you, you were calculating all the possible outcomes if you told Maverick how you truly felt about him - how it tortured you to look at him and Penny like that. You would never wish that pain on anyone, even your worst enemy. That broke you. If you told him how you felt, it would change things forever, and you weren't sure if you could go through that immense pain again, you already knew how it would go. Then again, what were the chances if he felt the same way about you? Slim, probably. The tiny voice inside you was willing you to tell him, to just rip the band-aid off and do it. It would hurt less if you told Maverick - if he didn't feel the same way, fine. You could move on. But if he did...?

"Mav, the next thing I tell you..." You mumbled, voice slurring as you were unsure of how to navigate such a thing. "It's going to change everything bet-ween us." You said with a deep inhale, your vision going slightly blurry as you blinked. You didn't give him a chance to reply as you blurted out the thing you'd been keeping to yourself for so goddamn long. "I, err, I've fallen for you, Maverick, and I understand if you don't... feel the same..." You hiccupped, eyes rolling as you sat back in your seat, feeling the room begin to spin. You weren't sure if it was the alcohol or the anxiety bubbling in you currently.

Maverick was silent as he stared at you, slowly making sense of what you had just said. You had feelings for him? Unsure of what to do, Maverick chuckled awkwardly, his hand coming up to scratch at his jawline. "I think that's the alcohol talking, sweetheart." He said with a soft smile, trying to work out whether you were just drunk, or actually being serious.

"No, no it's not-" You shook your head vigorously at him, still not making eye contact with him as your cheeks were wet with tears. "It's true, I promise, I- it's true. I know how crazy it must sound to you." Maverick was staring at you with a small smile present on his lips. All this time, he was blind to what he truly wanted. You. As soon as he'd walked into the first briefing, you'd caught his eye. Maverick knew the age gap between you two was quite... significant in so many words. So, he never sought to act on his feelings, let alone tell you.

"No, actually it doesn't sound too crazy." Maverick replied slowly, tapping his nail on the beer bottle in his hand. You looked up at him with your glossy, reddened eyes as they widened with shock at what he had just said.

"You.. what?" You breathed out, feeling the like the room was closing in on you.

"I feel the same way, Y/N." Maverick couldn't help the signature toothy smile that slipped onto his lips as he stared at you. Despite your clearly dishevelled look, he still thought you looked absolutely beautiful, your beauty really did radiate from within, too. Everything about you was perfect to him. Everything.

"Are... are you sure?" You muttered, utterly shell-shocked at Maverick's reply. Where was the 'I'm sorry, Y/N, I don't feel the same' or the 'I think we're better off as friends'? This was not what you were bracing yourself for, and your surprised eyes showed that.

"Yes," Maverick laughed quietly at your response. He found amusement in your surprise as he watched you slowly sway from side to side in your seat, obviously still very intoxicated. "Why don't we get you home, sweetheart? I think a sleep would benefit you greatly." He laughed again, nodding at your drunken state. You groaned and nodded lazily, feeling your eyes beginning to close.

"Wait!" You suddenly perked up, the captain flinching in fright as he stood up to move toward you. "Can you stay with me? For tonight? Please?" You begged with a wide smile, your fingers flopping together in an sloppy attempt to make a praying gesture. Maverick sighed at you with a soppy smile on his lips, and he pretended to think about the offer, earning a whiny-groan from you.

"I guess someone will need to hold your hair back tonight." He teased with a smirk, holding out his hand for you to take. "C'mere." He mumbled as you took his hand to stand up, Maverick's other hand coming to settle on your waist to steady your wobbly self. The two of you were impossibly close and you felt your heart jump into your throat, a shiver running down your spine.

'Mhm' was the only thing you could muster up in reply to him as Maverick lead you out of the bar carefully and cautiously, his thumb gently caressing the side your waist to comfort you. How did you start the night by getting drunk and sad about this man, to ending it with him taking you home? You threw a quick glance over your shoulder at the squad who were currently staring at the two of you in shock -mainly Hangman and Rooster, who were sharing a look of open-mouth surprise. You grinned at them, giving them a small wave as Maverick opened the bar doors for you.

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[landboundstar]

Day Pass: Mad Hatter

"Thank you, Edward. This is very nice of you."

I put a hand on top of my nervous friend's hand to stop his babbling.

"Jervis, it is not a problem to take you out for lunch. Here we are."

Jervis would have been fine getting a drive-through at McDonald's, but I wasn't. And I wasn't about to treat one of the first people that I had empathized with in my therapy group like he wasn't worth something special.

Pulling into a parking spot beside the restaurant, I opened Jervis's door and guided him to our table, a hand at his back and thought about how we had met.

Therapy in Arkham Asylum is a hit or miss affair. It doesn't do to get too attached to one therapist. They frequently change therapists to avoid that and its resulting…complications. And the turnover rate with good therapists is ridiculously high. Some, I thought sourly, I only wished had a high turnover rate. After years of Dr. Crane and Dr. Strange failing to get the desired results from me as a patient, Dr. Arkham himself decided to see what was wrong with my surly ass. Years of "therapy" with Crane's drug enhanced exposure therapy to treat my trauma and Strange's odd biofeedback that only seemed to worsen my obsessiveness had me being an extremely paranoid boy with some paredolia on the side of my other issues. Meeting with the good doctor for therapy hadn't been a high point in my plans. But, well, as a patient in Arkham I hadn't had much of a choice. So, imagine my surprise to find a good old fashioned group therapy session with no terror or mindfuckery. And that was where I met Jervis. Not quite a case of like minds meeting, but what I imagine what it must feel like for a piano virtuoso to meet an expert sculptor. Just an admiration and appreciation for the other person's skills.

We had been friends ever since.

What? You expected me to be humble? I was mentally unstable, not mentally deficient. And for all his quiet self-effacing tendencies, once Jervis started talking about his technical expertise or any of his passionate interests, there was a brilliant mind waiting to be discovered. 

Disturbed, obsessive, socially awkward, but brilliant.

Jervis fidgeted with his light hair, looking uncomfortable in the borrowed button up and dress pants from the asylum laundry. I noticed they had not given him a hat. Part of me hurt for my friend, knowing he identified so much with his accessory. And the rest of me realized the wisdom of not overly indulging his fixation, for everybody's well being. Especially Jervis himself.

But, like with my puzzle ring, sometimes it was important to scratch that itch. To find ways of being yourself without giving in to the madness.

Like a tea party, perhaps?

But not the crumpets and tea cake sort. That might be a little too tempting for Jervis. But I thought this restaurant might just do the trick.

"Do you want to order, or do you want me to?" I asked, remembering just how overwhelming simple decisions could be sometimes.

"If you don't mind. Please." Jervis said.

The waiter came over with a smile. "Welcome to Qnia. Are you ready to order?"

"We are. Can we get two orders of the moroccan mint tea, and then we are splitting an order of chicken tagine with couscous, zaalouk on the side. And two pistachio croissants to finish the meal."

"Of course. I'll bring your tea out in just a minute."

"Tea?" Jervis perked, a slightly too enthusiastic gleam in his eyes.

"Yes, it should go very nicely with the food." I told him.

The food came promptly, and we talked about music, art, and science rather than books or movies. 

I paid the check as we finished the last of our dessert, listening to Jervis tell me about a recent scientific study about using specific tones and frequencies to help subliminally curb addictions and its results. He still was his meek, polite self, but with a confidence he normally only got when fully delusional.

As I pulled out to drive back, I made a mental note of the restaurant.

It had been a lovely place to treat Jervis to a tea party. We would have to do it again.

#batman #au fic #edward nygma #jervis tetch #Just a little tea party #Day pass #Any guess for the next day pass?

[wint3r-h3art]

Attuma fully indulging your praise and size kink and making you feel SO good and safe… you’re on your back with your thighs on his as be pushes into you, just one of his hands goes to support your arch as the other hand rubs gentle circles on your clit. You feel so full - your hand slips down your abdomen to feel him splitting you in half, taking what is rightfully his. “That’s it my sweet girl, let me in… so good for me, aren’t you? I’ve got you, little one… I can see those pretty eyes welling up, just takes my cock to make you drunk on me, hm? Just a cockdrunk little whore for me to use and breed, you like that don’t you?”

I woke up and I’m being fed very generously with all these Attuma thirst AJDJKSOAOAA

Attuma I’m free on Thursday….any days please come crack me open like pistachio

#linda answered

[sylvinuk-turkey]

Today we woke up at 9a, but the leave-time was a little confusing so we did not get out of the house until 10:30a. We took a taxi to Karaköy, and had Simit for breakfast.

Once we finished, we headed back to the tram (the same one we’ve taken before from old town) and headed to the funicular that would take us up the hill to Taksim Meydanı (square). Sadly, it’s not an open air fenicular, so not much of a view while we traveled through a tunnel, but it definitely saved us some walking and sweat. It brought us right into the square.

After taking a couple of pictures of the square, we needed a restroom and we saw a McDonald’s which Adam has been wanting to try… because tradition. So while a couple of us used the restroom Adam ordered and ate a köfta burger meal.

We then made our way slowly along istiklal caddesi (street). We started at a green Orthodox Church right off the Main Street . It was closed. But as a note this area is known for being the non-Muslim area because it was given to Italians (from Genova) by the Byzantine’s. The Genovese were the ones who built the Galata tower we will see later. So this is the area (awhile ago… not sure about today) where things like prostitution and pork were abundant… supposedly.

While continuing our walk down the Main Street, there were lots of chain shopping stores, like Gap and Nike, but there was also old and famous stores like a chocolate store and a Turkish delight candy store, which we stopped at both. At the chocolate place we tried milk chocolate with Pistachios, then at the Turkish delight store we got to try pistachio Turkish delight and rose Turkish delight.

We continued down the main road, and stopped at the flower (çiçek) passage, and the Europe (Avrupa) passage both which had a ton of restaurants and bars that in the evening are packed and happening. Due to keeping hydrated we ended up stopping at a bar for a quick drink and bathroom break again.

We then headed back down the main road towards a Jewish synagog and museum (yes somehow Jews are even here, which kind of surprised me), but the synagog ended up being closed. So we walked back up the hill to the whirling dervish museum, sadly no whirling dervishes themselves, just the building of a previous sect and some history.

We continued down the main street and realized there was some good non-chain shopping places now, so knowing we had some time before dinner with only one more thing to do, we started shopping. But it didn’t last long because we realized we were hungry for a snack and didn’t want to eat right before our big dinner. So we beelined towards the Galata tower, and a “bufet” (which is basically a cafe) right across the street from the tower. We got three types of Döner we hadn’t tried yet, such as “hot dog” and “ayvalik tostu,” and split each 3 ways so it was a nice small break/snack (Carley wasn’t fully hungry and got a small chocolate bar, hence splitting 3 not 4 ways).

Then we walked up to the Galata Tower, got in line and within 15 minutes scanned our museumpass and was in the door. Turns out they totally retrofitted the inside with an elevator and all new floors. I guess the one set of stairs was too little for all the tourists. The elevator takes you up to the 6th floor and you have to walk up to the 7th and 8th. The 7th has windows and an amazing miniature model of the city. Then the 8th floor is the outdoor wrap around balcony the size of 1 maybe 2 ppl wide and there were waaayyyy too many people. Because people stopped to get the perfect Instagram photo or were trying to pass, it was packed and a little concerning. But everyone and everything was fine, and the views were great! Once you’re done, you slowly make your way down the winding stairs between the inside and outside walls and each floor had some more history or pictures. One of the floors had an interesting Xbox-360-like experience where you get to be an animated Hazarfen Ahmed Çelebi (the guy I mentioned yesterday) and fly off the tower across the Bosporus. You control him by keeping your arms out like a plane and tilting side to side.

Once out of the tower, we had a little time before our 7:30p dinner reservation. So we went back to the shops and got a few more things since we didn’t have much time/energy before. Gokay and I ended up getting lounging house robes made here in Turkey.

Then we headed to dinner at Mikla, a beautiful restaurant on the top floor of a fancy modern hotel, with a rooftop bar. After checking out the rooftop and taking early sunset pictures we checked in for our 7:30p dinner. They sat us at a corner table looking west, overlooking the local open air soccer stadium which was having a game… although it ended up not starting until 9p ish.

Dinner was a 3 course meal for each of us but we could pick off a list of 5-7 things for each course, so we ended up getting most of the menu (https://www.miklarestaurant.com/en/menu/prix-fixe-a-la-carte). Plus we ordered 2 bottles of white wine. Let’s see if I can remember all the dishes.

They started us with the first picture below - basically Turkish anchovie on a light cracker with a smoked fish mousse. Next, bread with 3 topping options, oil, an amazing butter and a sheep/goat/cow milk cheese (mixed). These were both additional starters not shown on the menu.

Then we got into course 1: zeytinyagalı - artichoke heart in oil, octopus, mantı (dumplings we had yesterday) and dried beef which was like prosciutto.

Second course: prawns, beef rib steak (for two) with side vegetables, and braised lamb.

And dessert course: “Antep ‘birdshit’ pistachio,” buffalo yogurt, milk + lime and peach (the website today says apricot because they use the freshest ingredients). That was our meal. In Turkey, if you’re going out to a nice dinner, meals take time. So similar to last night, we didn’t leave until 10:30ish.

We quickly went back upstairs to the rooftop bar to see a night view of the city. Then we took a taxi home. It was a long, hot day so showers were necessary (like every other day 😅). Now I’m writing this and heading to bed.

#dinner #Galata #istanbul #museums

[youaremysunshine-court]

Watching celebrities read thirst tweets gives me so much second hand embarrassment, haven't felt like this since Friends, like seriously people put stuff like that out on the net

#i cant #why do so many people want actors to split them in half and then make comparisons to goddamn nuts #like oh henry cavill can split me open like a pistachio and id thank him #if he split you open like a pistachio hed have to bite down hard get splinters of you in his teeth and half of you is stuck inside the shell #thats not sexy #thats weird as all hell #i c a n t #what the actual absolute fuck was going through your head when you wrote that and posted it on a public domain #why did someone say troye sivan was a bottom and he said wrong but movin on blimk #also why do so many people want to lick terry crews #like a mother with her childs ice cream??? #sebastian stan and Anthony mackie just going along with all their shippers is the best part of this #but also why do you want sebastian stan to split you open like a walnut #can i go down one youtube rabbit hole without wanting to invent brain bleach #also that one mf who wanted to lick KUMAIL NANJIANIS brain what the fuck? #okay i think ive exhausted thirst tweets moving on to most asked questions #gonna start with the far from home one to watch tom holland cringe at Styrofoam #gives me life👅

[foodffs]

Lip smacking and healthy homemade trail mix recipe made with oven roasted oats and nuts. This savory trail mix (Namkeen) has goodness of whole grains, unrefined oils and natural fats & proteins. If your family, kids or guests are high on munching savory snacks, then this oven roasted oats and nuts savory homemade trail mix is a much healthier option compared to any store-bought mixtures.

Prep Time-10 mins

Cook Time-20 mins

Total Time-30 mins

Course: Snack

Cuisine: American, Global, Indian

Keyword: Homemade Trail Mix, namkeen, nuts, oats, trail mix, Trail Mix Recipe

Servings: 16 1 Oz

 Calories: 138kcal  Author: Rupali Agarwal

Ingredients

1 cup Rolled oats

1/4 cup Peanuts

1/4 cup Split cashews

1/4 cup Silvered almonds

1/4 cup Whole pistachios

1/4 cup Pumpkin seeds

1/4 cup Walnuts Add pecans if you like

1/4 cup Coconut chips

1/4 cup Golden raisins or Munaka

Instructions

Preheat oven to 275oF.

Mix oats and all the nuts excepts raisins (or munaka)in a mixing bowl. If you coconot chips are thick then add now or if they are thin then add towards the end of the roasting process.

Now add sugar to it.

For tampering, heat oil in a pan. When oil is hot, add mustard seeds, cumin seed, sesame seeds and curry leaves. Let them splatter for some time.

Add this tampering to nuts and oats mixture and then give it a good mix.

Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and spread this mixture evenly on it.

Place the baking sheet on center shelf and keep stirring the mixture every few minutes for even roasting. It took me 20 minute, you might need to adjust the time for different quantity.

If you did not add the cocnut chips in the starting before roasting, then add now.

When done, take the baking sheet out from oven and add raisins (or munaka) along with all the spices. Mix the whole mixture and again spread evenly on the sheet. 

Switch off the oven and place the baking sheet back into oven with slightly opened door.

Your oats and nuts savory trail mix is ready. Let it cool down completely before serving. Store in an air-tight container for two to three weeks.

[sheeple]

Thirst tweets

PHOTO NOT MINE. THIS IS ALL FICTION. Genre(s): crack Fandom(s): MCU actors Pairing(s): none, it’s all platonic Summary: Sebastian Stan, Anthony Mackie, and (Y/n) (Y/l/n) are at Buzzfeed, reading thirst tweets. Warning(s): It are thirst tweets, what are you going to expect? A/n: This is kinda a continuation of Headcannon madness. You don’t have to read that first, but it’s the same ‘universe’ [Masterlist] 

With a sigh, Sebastian begins. "So, my favourite thing to do on a Saturday is reading thirst tweets with Antony Mackie and (Y/n) (Y/l/n)." Anthony holds up his hand as a wave and I smile at the camera. "So let's see what the thirst tweet says."

A loud laugh escapes my lips as I roll my head to the side, crunching my eyes closed. "Oh, this is going to be so weird."

"This is your area of expertise, tho", teases Mackie, giving me a slight push against my shoulders.

With a roll of his eyes, Sebastian reaches into the bucket and pulls out the first tweet. "I want someone to look at me the way Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie look at each other." He turns towards Mackie with a smile. "Ah."

"That's great", smiles Mackie, glancing at the tweet. "That's nice."

A smirk forms on my face. "You two are seriously in love with each other, it's almost sickening."

"You're just jealous." Seb bumps his shoulder against mine.

The next tweet is about Mackie. "Anthony Mackie you cutie pie, come sit on my face. I will eat your ass like a fudge brownie. First of all, bitch, let's do this."

Seb and I burst out laughing, the first thirsty tweet has fallen.

"That was sweet, a fudge brownie", shrugs Mackie, reading the tweet once over.

Now it's my turn. "I am jealous of (Y/n) (Y/l/n) because she gets to touch (Y/n) (Y/l/n)'s butt." A snort escapes my lips. "Well, it's there, so why not? Everyone has a right, to ehh... touch their own butt."

"You do have a nice behind", says Seb with a crooked smirk, taking a sip of his water.

I point towards him. "That's true, I work very hard. So thank you, random person on the internet."

Seb's turn again. "I don't even know what this means", he sighs. "Sebastian Stan is on thick B-I-H."

"Bitch", clears Mackie up.

"Right, that's... kind."

"Anthony Mackie's ass is the real America's ass." He raises one eyebrow.

Seb folds his hands in front of his chest "I concur", he says with a nod.

"What's everyone's deal with our asses?", I ask laughing.

"Look-" Mackie sits up straight "-I work a lot to keep the bountiful nature of the round brown a lot, so enjoy it." He holds eye contact with the camera and I see the person behind the camera getting slightly flustered. "Get some."

Seb grabs the next tweet, ignoring Mackie's antics. "Listen, when Anthony Mackie said 'those steel-blue eyes let you know where home is. It's my safe place' about Sebastian's eyes, bitch I felt that." He tries to suppress a laugh, his face getting redder and redder. "Thank you, very kind."

I pipe up. "Those are indeed dreamy. Just... stare into them and get whisked away." I let out an exaggerated sigh, Seb shaking his head in embarrassment.

"I'm next!", I cheer, sticking my hand into the bucket. "I want (Y/n) (Y/l/n)'s thighs as earmuffs. Use me as a bike saddle daddy." I look surprised up and into the camera. "Sure, name a date and time and I'll be there." I wink.

"So, you like being called daddy hmm?", asks Mackie, slightly leaning away from me.

I giggle. "I mean, why not? Whatever butters your toast, am I right." I look at Seb, and he nods slowly, eyes focussed on the ground.

"Think about Anthony Mackie taking a nap on Sebastian Stan's couch, don't bother me. You have a nice couch." Mackie turns towards Seb.

The latter let out a laugh. "You've... you have put this on the internet, never seen it", he protests.

"No, you do have a very nice couch. Very soft, good for a nap." I decided to poke the bear with a stick with a shit-eating grin. Seb looks at me in betrail.

"Homie, it's the best thing at your house." Mackie grins at me.

We all three look directly at the camera, Mackie and I talking through each other how amazing the couch is with velvet cushions as Seb tries to deny it. "He's never been to my house!", he says, pointing to the camera.

"I did, and it's very nice." Making eye contact with Seb, he knows that he has lost this round. He just shakes his head and holds the bucket to grab the next one.

He reads it once over and scrunches his nose. "I mean, I would let Sebastian Stan split me like pistachio, send tweet. Send tweet, is that like me responding to the thing?" He looks helplessly embarrassed.

"It like... confirming to send the tweet", I explain, re-reading the tweet.

"Thank God I don't have Twitter, and this is why!" He waves the piece of paper where the tweet is printed.

I grab the water bottle next to my chair, trying to twist the cap off. "This is exactly why I have Twitter", I smile, giving the bottle to Seb as a silent question to open it for me.

"Oh I see how it is, you is sending all those thirsty-ass tweets", grins Mackie, licking his lips.

"Psh, of course! What else were you thinking? I do want-", I let out a giggle, "-the ehh fudge brownie, wasn't it? Yeah, fudge brownie." I laugh.

Mackie lays his arm over the back of my chair and pinches my arm. He turns towards Seb. "So, you don't like pistachios?"

Seb unscrews my bottle, taking a sip of it before giving it to me. I wipe off the opening with my sleeve before taking a stip of my own with a grimace.

"No, I love pistachios. Cashews are my favourite tho." He winks towards the camera.

It's my turn and I grab the last one. "The last for best, guys. (Y/n) (Y/l/n) isn't even a snack. She's a four-course meal and a dinner mint. Ohhooo, thank you. Very kind of you." I look at the boys beside me. "I like that one." I fold the paper in half and sneakily slide it behind my bra while keeping eye-contact with the camera.

"That one goes next to the heart", teases Mackie, wiggling his eyebrows.

"You know it does", I smirk, Seb laughing loudly.

"Okay guys, time to wrap it up", says the person behind the camera.

"Well", begins Mackie, "thank you for allowing us to make you horny."

"Good night. And good luck", says Seb as he tries to take a sip of water before we all burst out laughing, ending the interview.

#mcu #mcu imagine #MCU crack #mcu scenario #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel scenario #sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan scenario #sebastian #sebastian imagine #sebastian scenario #anthony mackie #anthony mackie imagine #anthony mackie scenario #mackie #mackie scenario #mackie imagine #thirst tweets #actor!reader #sebastian stan x reader #anthony mackie x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #anthony mackie x y/n

[prettyboykatsuki]

KARASUMA SENSEI IS SO HOT HALF OF ME WANTS HIM TO BE MY DAD. BUT THE OTHER HALF OF ME WANT HIM TO FUCK ME

i can respect that i want him to split me open like a pistachio but i get it

#return to sender

[pseudofaux]

You! Are! So! Nice! To! Allow! Me! This! Fantasy! BLESS.

I'd be so happy to see (read) you bathe the King of Heroes™️ in spice (the most exquisite, 🔥🔥 you have to offer for Gilgamesh)? Perhaps a focus on how well he can focus on lording (cherishing/spoiling/gifting) over the one who has earned his favor, in bed? 🥰 Honestly, just here to read your take – in whatever shape or form – on his (A+++) horn over his beloved; HCs or drabble. Darker kinks or not, if it rocks your boat for him, I will gladly take anything. Thank you, thank you, pseu xoxo

For cough inspiration/cheering on for your entire pseu slings 🥳, please have:

Friend, I cannot TELL YOU HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS IDEA (and your brain) (and this gif). Thank you for giving me this incredible playground and vent for my own personal, uh, imaginings. 🥰 ilyssssssm!

(Requests are open through May 1 if you would like to get one in, reader!)

Perhaps the greatest benefit of pleasing a king so well as she has is the chance to feel his fine king’s mattress at her back. She is used to humbler surfaces and far fewer pillows. The mattress on his bed is soft and sweet-smelling, dried grasses and herbs and all the other stuffing practically sublime beneath her.

But above her is the king himself, and he is definitely sublime, and the amusement in his gaze is very warm and gentle and knowing, and it makes her hot. She is so glad her king is not a fake, that he does not boast things he cannot claim. When this golden being boasts, his words are the truth. He can claim anything of earth or of heaven; he is both. And tonight there is an unearthly warmth in his eyes, and every second she thinks she can be calm, that strange heat makes her skin feel like it is being gently tattooed with some great mystery. She will not look away. He told her to look.

“Afraid?” he asks.

“Honored,” she says immediately. If she was forced to go without grain she could sustain herself on her reverence for him.

“What a proper answer. Good,” he tells her, and lifts one of her wrists from her silk-covered belly to his mouth. She wears only a gold belt and the high skirt, split at both sides, in a rich blue. It’s the finest thing she has ever worn but he does not seem to care about it at all. He kisses her below her palm, then licks the kiss, and the gasp she sucks in through her nose makes him laugh. “Relax,” he orders. “You are here because I deemed you worthy. Do you question my judgement?”

“Never,” she swears.

He hums and keeps his eyes on her as he moves his mouth back to her wrist and lightly scrapes his teeth over her pulse. She can feel it jump so strongly she thinks he must feel it, too.

“You did well,” he says graciously, placing her arm back on her belly and leaning over her on his bed. He looms. “Few earn this. Know that you are free to enjoy everything that happens here tonight. I will not tell you so again.”

She stares into his eyes, and knows only a want to look at him and look and look, forever. It is as though two bloodred moons look back at her, vibrant from their place in the sky. Expectant. “Thank you, my king,” she says quietly. “I will keep trying to please you.”

“See that you do,” he mutters as he comes down to her mouth. He does not kiss her, exactly, but he sucks her lower lip into his mouth and gently presses it with his teeth. She already feels like swooning and does not hide the lustful cry that comes out of her open mouth. That is his. It is not her place to deny him.

He stays above her, sublime and regal. But he turns her what feels like every which way through the night: onto her side where he grinds into her, on her back where he holds her by the hips and blesses her breasts with suckles and teeth. On her stomach, where he hauls up her hips to come close to him in heaven and pounds into her so fiercely the pillows do nothing to muffle her cries of pleasure. He laughs when she finally stops trying.

“There it is. Let them all hear. My entire great city in every direction, you let them know who is king.”

“Gilgamesh!” she cries.

“Louder!”

“Gilgamesh!” she screams as he presses into her and grinds himself deeper, so deep if he were not half god she knows it would hurt. Everything should hurt, but he keeps touching her and it does not. His fingers are unerring and graceful, occasionally tweaking but almost always blessing her with strokes and circles and zigzig patterns that make her legs fall open like an unrolled carpet, something meant for him to walk upon. She can hear the way her body never stops slicking itself for him-- he never lets up, it is always his heavenly mouth or fingers playing her. She did not know she was a lyre but she shakes at his every pluck, whether he uses the fingers of his hand gloved in gold or the naked one.

In moments of rest they feed each other apricots drizzled with honey, bites of cheese and pistachios. There is cold water flavored with roses and sweet wine. He tells her “Do not swallow,” before he kisses some of the wine into her mouth and her head swims as though she has had a full cup too fast. Some leaks out one side of her mouth and he laughs again-- he laughs so often her heart is weak-- and makes great show of cradling her face and licking from her chest up to her lips.

The sky is more purple than black by the time his energy finally wanes, as though he has kept the world alive through the night by staying awake with her. She is ready to bow beside his sweet-smelling bed and stumble away when he tugs her back to his sweaty chest with a huff and tells her she is to sleep there if she does not want to sour his mood. She tells him she would never dare and promptly falls asleep, where her dreams will never be sweeter than the night she has just endured.

She wakes on her stomach at midday, alone. There is one of the king’s tablets, the ones he magics, under her shoulder.

“You are to return to me tonight,” it says. Every slash of the signs is kingly and without hesitation, so when the moon rises that night she does not hesitate, either.

#fate gilgamesh #casgil #fate fanfic #fate fanfiction #pseu slings #pickle-scribbles #THANK YOU BB AAAAAAAAAAAA #good 2 b the king('s paramour)

[2manyfandoms2count]

I love you (not) - Chapter 4

Slightly late for @marichatmay day 4, yesterday was kind of a long day and this chapter just kept getting longer. Oops. Ft. real cats, and a nod to Star Wars day (belated May the Fourth be with you). Enjoy!

First | Previous | AO3 | Next

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Chapter 4: In which the flirting continues and an attempt to break up is thwarted. Again.

Marinette almost turned around the moment she saw Chat Noir standing next to the café, looking at the cats on the other side of the window.

Well, had it just been her partner, she would have walked straight up to him without a second thought, and diligently sat through their date, only to apologise at the end of it, saying that she’d fallen in love with an image, and that she didn’t think they belonged together.

What (for ‘who’ was a little presumptuous a pronoun) stood in front of her was a figure in a cardboard rendering of Chat Noir’s suit, complete with paper bell, tail, and cardboard baton. She would have forgiven its use as a disguise, even though the details kind of defeated the purpose, had the reflection of the headpiece’s eye hole not revealed that he was actually transformed underneath.

Nope , she thought at the sight. Can’t do this, nope, nope, nop-

“Marinette!” Chat Noir spotted her just as she was about to leave, and started enthusiastically waving at her.

She plastered a smile on her face, and clutched her purse as she made her way towards him. Kwami, give me strength . She wondered if ridicule was a good enough excuse to break up with someone. It wasn’t very nice, but she was getting desperate for an excuse.

“Cardboard Noir, I presume?” Her voice had an exasperated edge to it, which Chat didn’t pick up on.

“The one and only!” He twirled around to give her the full 360° view of the costume. She could tell that he was grinning under the helmet.

“To what do I owe the… pleasure?”

“Anonymity, obviously.” He rolled his eyes. “Wouldn’t want this date to finish in the tabloids, am I right?”

Sure, because somebody in a piece of cardboard is so much more inconspicuous than somebody who might be wearing a Chat Noir cosplay in a cat café , she rolled her eyes as she saw people passing by and doing double takes as they walked past him, but kept her point to herself.

“How... thoughtful of you.” She smiled slightly tensely.

“Isn’t it?” Chat Noir extended his kraft paper-covered arm and she took it awkwardly for the couple of steps that separated them from the café’s door.

Chat hurried forward to open the door for her. “After you, my… Princess.” He bowed.

She bit back a smug smile as the bells jingled above her head. The nickname "my Lady" would totally have been justified in this situation, yet he’d refrained from using it. She deduced that it must be too attached to Ladybug; maybe there was hope that he still had a crush on her alter ego. She could work with that.

She walked into the shop, and almost tripped on an orange tabby cat who’d apparently been making the most of the sunspot on the other side of the door. It looked up at her indignantly even as she petted him to apologise, but didn’t move.

Behind her, a grey sphynx tried to make a run for it, but Chat picked it up and closed the door before he could cross the threshold.

“Hi there! Welcome to the C afé des Chats . How can I help you today?” A woman emerged from the back room, wiping her hands on her cat-themed apron. Her name, Cathy, was embroidered on it.

“Hello! Could we get a table for two, please?” Marinette smiled.

“Of course! Pick a spot!”

Marinette looked around the room. Apart from a small group of friends sitting near the window, and who were too engrossed in laughing and taking pictures of the cats to acknowledge their presence, all the seats were empty.

“How about that table over there?” Chat leaned towards her ear and pointed towards a cozy booth at the back of the room. She jumped slightly at the sudden proximity. He didn’t notice, as the cat in his arms started meowing, and Cathy came out from behind the counter to take it in her arms.

“Oh, let me take Yoda off your hands. Did he try running away again?” She cradled him, the cat purring as she did.

“Yes, I feel like he might take after his namesake and like the outdoors more.” Chat joked.

“Maybe I should have picked another name for him, then. It would save me a lot of time looking for him around the neighborhood.” Cathy laughed. “I’ll let you two get installed, I’ll be right with you.”

The pair made their way towards their table, Chat letting Marinette take the couch while he pulled out the chair facing her. He sat on the very edge of his seat, the cardboard taking up most of the space. They both picked up the menu, and ordered their drinks (and a lightsaber-themed pistachio éclair for Chat), when Cathy came around.

Marinette tapped her fingers together as they waited, trying to find a conversation topic. She decided to acknowledge the smaller elephant in the room.

“You know, I think we’re okay now, you can take off your costume.” Marinette pointed out. He looked like he could fall off his chair at any moment.

“Are you ashamed of me?” His hand flew to his chest, almost knocking his paper bell off.

“Me? Never!” she scoffed.

“Good, because this isn’t coming off anytime soon.” Chat Noir crossed his arms over his chest. She could tell he was smirking under his headpiece.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that…” It was Marinette’s turn to smirk, as Cathy arrived and put down two cups of hot chocolate, and Chat’s pâtisserie, in front of them.

“Is that a challenge?” Chat’s eyebrow shot up, and he turned towards Cathy. “Excuse me, Ma’am, would you happen to have a straw I could use?”

The lady blinked at him a couple of times, perplexed, before realising he was serious. “I probably do, let me go check in the pantry.”

“You’re not seriously doing this.” Marinette facepalmed.

“I’m just showing the one thing you should know about me if you want to date me; I don’t back down from challenges.” He thanked Cathy, who’d returned, and started poking a hole in his headset.

Trust me, I know that , Marinette sighed. “I take it back. It’s not a challenge. Just take your… mask off, and enjoy your order. Please?”

Chat Noir squinted at her suspiciously. “You pawmise that you’re fine with this?”

“Absolutely. I just want you to be more comfortable.”

“Fine.” He took off his headpiece, making his hair stick up from static electricity.

Marinette stifled a giggle.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she cleared her throat, pulled her phone out and snapped a picture, before showing the screen to him. “I just like what you did to your hair.”

“Ah, yes. Beautiful,” her partner laughed. “I wonder what Gabriel Agreste would think about it.”

“I actually think he’d love it. It kind of looks like his haircut.” Marinette snorted.

“Yeah, that won’t do.” Some colour drained from his cheeks as he shook his head and tried to flatten his hair. The real bell under his costume jingled as he did so.

Marinette was about to ask why he seemed so upset about the comparison when a black cat jumped up on their table, looking at Chat’s éclair with interest.

“Hey, Chat Noir? Looks like you have some competition for your tea…” She took a sip of her hot chocolate and sighed happily as the rich aroma hit her taste buds.

“What?” He stopped wiggling around, his hair having regained its normal appearance. “Oh. No, no, kitty, this isn’t for you.” He slid the plate away from it. The cat tilted its head and meowed. “Being all cute won’t work on me, I’m cuter. Meow .”

“Hmm, I’m not sure about that.” Marinette stroked the cat’s head, making it walk towards her and purr. “This one is pretty adorable. Pincushion,” she read off its tag. “How original.”

“You’re not even saying it’s a claw-se call? You wound me, Marinette.” Chat gasped, before taking a bite of his éclair. “You know, I’m not sure I could be with someone who doesn’t think I’m cute.”

Marinette rolled her eyes affectionately. “Kitty, I think you know very well what I think,” she replied, putting a hand over his on the table. He gulped down the rest of his éclair, and stared into her eyes.

Pincushion meowed again after what she knew was too long for friends to gaze at each other, and Marinette jolted, feeling herself blush. Why had she done that? She should have just gone with it, it would have made everything easier. You know, Chat Noir, I definitely don’t think you’re cute. Let’s get the bill and be on our way…

Chat Noir cleared his throat, and waved towards Cathy. “Well, this was nice, but it’s getting a little late, isn’t it? Could I have the bill, please?”

“Yes, you’re right, we should probably get going… Wait a second, what do you mean could I have the bill? We’re splitting this.”

“No we’re not. I ordered the most.” Chat shot her a pointed look.

“Fine, then let me pay for my own drink, then.”

“Meow way! I invited you! I meant it when I said my treat!”

“Yes, but…” Marinette scrambled for an excuse, cursing her brain which had decided to notice that Chat’s cheeks seemed quite pink, and that she thought it looked good on him, especially combined to his slightly dishevelled hair.

“I’ll tell you what; if you really think I don’t owe you anything, then just consider this an advance for my birthday. You can pay me back in macarons.” Chat’s eyes lit up hungrily as he interrupted her.

“Your birthday?” Marinette tilted her head quizzically. “Is that soon?”

Chat froze in his seat. Ladybug had warned him about this. They weren’t supposed to share anything about their personal lives, with anyone. Just in case it landed in the wrong ears.

Besides, his birthday wasn’t until September. Which, since he’d invited her on this date, she could interpret as him thinking their relationship would last that long. Which he really hoped it wouldn’t (the romantic one, that is - he still wanted to be friends with Marinette behind the mask).

“Erm, yeah, it’s… Next week?” He scratched the back of his neck nervously. That seemed alright in terms of timeline.

“So soon…” Marinette trailed off, looking at the empty cup before her. Her partner’s birthday seemed like something she should know, yet as much as she raked her brain, she couldn’t recall a single conversation they’d had on the topic. “Does Ladybug know?”

“Oh, no. I wouldn’t want her to make a fuss.” He waved her concern away, and swiftly stole the credit card machine from Cathy as she returned with it. He tapped his card on it, looking Marinette straight in the eye as he did.

“Chat Noir!” She cried out indignantly. She’d been too engrossed in the consideration that she couldn’t decently break up with him now when his birthday was just around the corner, to anticipate his next move.

“Sorry, Princess.” He smiled smugly as he thanked the café owner and took his receipt. “In my defence, it makes me feel better about eating so much when I came over to your place for lunch, when I’d only brought a flower as a present.”

Marinette held his gaze for a bit, and, seeing his earnestness, she sighed. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” He nodded, and then turned towards Cathy, who was awkwardly shuffling next to their table.

“Is everything alright, Ma’am?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to intrude, but… are you really Chat Noir?” She asked hopefully.

“See, the costume is inconspicuous!” Chat Noir exclaimed, sticking his tongue out at Marinette. “I mean, yes, I am.”

“I’d totally understand if you said no, but would you mind taking a picture with some of the cats? I’m happy to keep it to myself, and not put it up with the other cat pictures if you’d prefer, it’s just that I’m such a huge fan…”

“I’d love to!” Chat Noir jumped to his feet and started peeling his disguise off. “Would it be okay if my… Marinette was in the picture with me?” He winced at the formulation of his question. He wasn’t sure if it was worse than if he’d called her his girlfriend.

“Yes, of course! Here, let me grab Yoda, and maybe Pincushion and…”

Marinette didn’t have time to explore the warm feeling Chat calling her “his” Marinette, in a very excited and pure way, had elicited in her chest, as Cathy shoved a cat in her arms and pushed Chat next to her on the couch. She grinned for the photographer, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks.

“Purr-fect!” Chat beamed as Cathy showed them the picture.

She melted a little at how happy he looked, chatting away to figure out a way to get a copy of the picture. I can’t hurt him, not now , she thought as she nodded along and gave her number to Cathy so she could send her the shot.

What she could do, though, was try to figure out a birthday present for him. Something useful, that he’d be able to keep when she broke up with him after they broke up, probably a week after she gave it to him.

She thought about it all the way Home.

#yoda is actually a real cat from a parisian cat café #he was cute #marichat may 2021 #marichat may #miraculous ladybug #the miraculous tales of ladybug and cat noir #ml #miraculous fanfiction #miraculous fanfic #marichat #marinette dupain-cheng #chat noir #day 4: café #elle writes #love you (not)

[thorniest-rose]

What did reddie do for Valentine’s Day ? (I love your work by the way ❤️😙)

Hi love! I’m sure they had a lovely day!! Both Eddie and Richie are big romantics at heart, so they’d never miss out on an opportunity to spoil each other, even for a fabricated holiday like Valentine’s Day. Richie would have gone all out, getting Eddie’s favourite flowers delivered and getting him the biggest teddy, like one he once won for Eddie at a Derry carnival when they were teens. And Richie would order dinner from a fancy restaurant too, not wanting Eddie to have to cook for once. He gets fillet steak with fondant potato and French beans and a red wine jus, followed by the prettiest chocolate delice served with honeycomb, pistachio and passion fruit coulis. They eat it by the pool outside with a bottle of chilled wine, and Richie kisses Eddie’s cheeks where he’s grown shy and flushed. Because even after years of being together, Eddie still gets overwhelmed at how happy he feels. 

They also exchange gifts, and afterwards Eddie pulls Richie to their bedroom for his main gift: stripping his clothes off to reveal a crimson-red bustier and thong, which he’s been wearing all evening. As soon as he sees it, Richie’s mouth goes dry and his heart pounds like a drum, but unfortunately the delicate lace doesn’t last long, because Richie’s tearing it from Eddie so he can suck bruises into his chest and thighs, and getting it stained with lube as he grapples with it on the bed, so desperate to slick himself up and get inside Eddie. But not before leaning back so he can take photos of Eddie on his phone, murmuring to Eddie about how gorgeous he looks with his tanned skin against the red lingerie and white sheets. When Richie leans back in to spread Eddie’s thighs and push inside him, Eddie says, “Promise me you won’t post any of those?” because that would be just like Richie, to take pictures and show him off on his Instagram. But his worries soon fizzle away, replaced by the feeling of being split open by Richie’s cock. They spend the rest of the night twisted in their sheets, and when Eddie wakes up the next morning, with bruises and bite marks littering his skin, Richie brings him waffles and berries in bed.

#asks #valentine's day reddie #minors dni

[sisi-halloway]

Always Pt 1. (Julian x Reader)

Some Julian x Reader angst. I’ll post this draft now, then once I decide how it ends, I’ll post it on my Index!

Inspired by and written for @asranemesis because she’s been such a darling to me and I love talking about writing with her.

_______________________________________________________

“I brought you some water, darling.”

You open the parlor door slightly and poke your head in. A sigh of mixed feelings left your mouth. Julian was finally in bed, behaving himself.

Any time he was behaving most likely meant he wasn’t feeling well. 

Most days you’d have to pin him to the mattress to rest because he’d find random things to do to keep from being bored. As much of a hassle it had become, taming him, at least if he was bouncing off the walls you knew he was feeling alright. Today... not so much.

“There’s my favorite doctor! You know, I missed you.”

Julian’s clever smirk was the only part of him that seemed to hold any liveliness. His voice was raspy and dead. He lay there idly. You had visited him maybe an hour before and made up the daybed while he was on the sofa reading. Now he was wrapped in the comforter up to his chin. From the looks of it, he was staring at the wall.

He had been doing this a lot lately.

“I’m hardly a doctor. I’m more like your assistant who just knows a lot,” you begin sitting down gingerly on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb it too much. You unlace your shoes and kick them off along with your socks. This was the first time you had rested today. You had been on your feet all day, tending to the patients downstairs and frequently checking on Julian.

Julian rises, the blanket falling down around him. His hollow chest is revealed, making you take a deep breath to steady your resolve. You were never strong enough to see him these days. As much as it made you happy to see him... it saddened you to no end. “And Julian, you saw me just earlier.”

He gratefully takes the water from you and gulps it down. You see where his chestnut brushed lips pushed into the edge of the glass. There was less color in them every day. You notice the water slipping down the long line of his throat, into his stomach. Every rib of his was showing, prominent enough to rap your fingers on. If you did, they’d probably play like an instrument. He wasn’t eating much. You looked at the tray of small sandwiches you had brought him, sitting on the nightstand. They were untouched. 

“You didn’t have a mind to eat, Julie?”

When he finished the water, he reached to put the glass on the nightstand. You took it from him, your hands brushing against each other in the process. His were cold.

“Not hungry, my dear. Although they do look delicious,” he trails off admiring the platter of small hors d'oeuvres. “The presentation is quite lovely...” He turns to look at you fully and completely.  

“I didn’t say thank you.”

You soften, seeing the apology in his eyes. He knew how hard this was for you, watching his body consume itself because he didn’t have half the appetite of a field mouse. You smile, grabbing a sandwich in your dainty fingers.

“Will you split one with me? I tried something new... featuring your favorite.”

Julian considered your attempt to have him eat, and you could tell he appreciated the gesture. His lips upturn a little in a small, dedicated expression of gratitude. His mannerisms held less grandeur these days, but they still held a beautiful weight. 

“Why, of course. The flavor profile, if you please?”

You tear the fried sandwich into two, the crust ripping sensually. The lobster meat inside was aromatic. You hand a piece to him before going into detail.

“Lobster, paired with a grated pistachio heavy cream sauce, lightly battered and fried. Cracked pepper and rock salt on top. When warm, the crust is buttery, flaky, soft. The lobster is tender, and the cream sauce is smooth. Designed to melt on the tongue, the subtle pistachio adds some eccentric flavor. ” 

Julian grins. “Quite adventurous, you are. Let’s taste,” he proposes, popping the small morsel of food in his mouth. You do the same. You had already eaten half the tray before you brought it to him. You didn’t want to overwhelm him.

He chews it faintly, then closes his eyes as he swallows his first piece of food for the day. “Now, (y/n), You’ve outdone yourself today, dear. This is scrumptious really... Can I have just one more?”

You swell with pride. You hand it to him, and he promptly makes it disappear. 

“I’m glad you like them. I’ll put the rest away,” you tell him. You weren’t going to push him to eat more.

You grab the tray, a golden gift from Nadia. She sent a lot of gifts and money now in these days, ever since she heard that Julian was ill. You could tell it was her way of extending a helping hand. Portia would cook for you two, Asra would bring blankets and home goods. Everyone would visit frequently and it definitely kept his spirits high. Yours too, because Lord knows how hard this was for you. 

Julian had gone though hell and back with you, for you. Now he was going through hell and there was absolutely nothing you could do.

You rise and balance it on your hip, petting Julian’s head before you turn to leave the parlor.

“Are you coming back, dear?”

You turn and nod. “Of course I’m coming back. I had already discharged the last patient before I came back up here. There’s no more work for me to do.”

Julian nodded gravely. You tried to smile and assure him but there was a strange look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. He stared blankly at your clothes or shoes or anything that wasn’t your face. “Darling,” you grab his attention and he meets your eyes.

His cheeks were almost hollow and his face was ghostly gaunt. His eyes carried stress and his lack of rest in the form of dilapidated bags, painted purple like bruises. His brows had come to be set in this deep line. It was a sad one, on the hopeless side of expressionless. He broke your heart.

“I’m always coming back. You understand?”

He nodded, flustered by your intensity. You couldn’t tell if he was looking for words or fighting back tears. He didn’t seem to know either, so instead he shooed you off. 

“Yes, yes. I u-understand. Thank you for the sandwiches, my dear. They were really quite wonderful.”

“You’re always welcome.”

You leave the door to the parlor open as you drug yourself through it. You heard Julian’s weak voice sound behind you.

“(Y/n)?”

You double back to see what he needs. 

“Could... you bring some cake back with you? I have a hankering for it... if there’s any left.”

Your birthday had passed last week. Julian had talked about it all year, how he was going to take you sailing. It was a few months ago when he figured that he wouldn’t be well enough to. So instead of sailing, everyone had come over to your house and spent the day together. You and Portia stood over the stove and made the most magnificent birthday cake you had ever imagined. Julian kept pestering for tastes of the undone batter or licks of the frosting, but you and Portia denied him every time. He’d settle for kissing the smudges of cake paraphernalia off your face, and that was fine with you.

The cake was three tiers, covered in your enchanted frosting. Asra had helped you cast a spell on it. If you thought hard enough, the frosting would taste like whatever you wanted it to. It was glorious. Fruit cascaded down the sides of it and you barely managed to fit all of your candles on the top, it was so dainty.

Portia and Asra had helped decorate it, Nadia had all the finest ingredients at your disposal, of course. She even gave you sparkler candles from Prakra that lit up all the colors of the rainbow when lit. Muriel didn’t do much but keep all the pets out of the kitchen, which was a big help.

It was really a great day. You had forgotten that sailing was even in the agenda. You were just happy to be spending your birthday with the people you loved... with the man you loved.

“Yes, I can bring some cake.” You smile at him. Julian’s face changed for the warmer and in that moment all seemed a little better. 

You went downstairs and put the leftover sandwiches in the icebox in exchange for a slice of cake. You scooped a little frosting off the top of what was left of it, popping it in your mouth. You thought about the first time you and Julian had shared drinks at the Rowdy Raven. An aggressive, bitter taste attacked your senses, causing your face to screw up. It tasted like the dirty bilge water in the bottom of ship. As horrible a taste as it was... it was a memory that you cherished more than you realized. 

A good old fashioned Salty Bitters.

You brought a glass of milk up for you two to share, if he’d have any part of it. 

“Here you are, darling.” You hand Julian the saucer and fork, setting the milk on the nightstand. “I’ll clean up while you eat.” 

You look around the room at the brushes, paints and books scattering the surfaces of the room. Julian had taken up painting, just to be able to have you tutor him. He said it was his new favorite pastime although he was quite terrible at it. You never cared about that. It was always a pleasure seeing him do something he enjoyed, especially since he wanted to share it with you.

You go around picking things up, putting them in their proper places. You take note of a painting on the coffee table, nearly finished. He noticed that you noticed and cringed. 

“Don’t go over there, please. There’s a monster hiding behind the bookshelf and I would hate if you were eaten.” 

You laugh. The light sound seemed to make Julian smile. He digs his fork into the slice and nibbles on a chunk, shaking his head fondly. “I’ll take my chances with the monster, darling. We’ve faced worse.”

The fading gold light from the setting sun waltzed into the room in a single stream, making the dancing dust in the air visible, like sparkles. You tiptoe over to the canvas, hands clasped behind your back. When you took into account what he painted, your heart immediately fills to the brim. The emotion took to overflowing into your throat, which couldn’t make a single sound. You picked the canvas up and held in your hands, just beaming at it. All you could do was grin. 

Julian had painted the two of you, side by side, standing on the railing of a ship. The view was from behind. Your backs were turned, as you were overlooking the ocean. You wore your favorite outfit, and Julian had captured it in such rawness, such reality. It was in great detail, and in all honesty, you wouldn’t have ever thought he could paint something so... good. Considering he was struggling to imitate the shadow of a fruit just a couple of weeks ago. He had been busy while you were running the clinic.

You squinted at your hands in the painting. Intertwined with Julian’s you could see that there was a glimmer on your finger... a ring. You gasped. A ring. It was at this time your emotions overrun you. You placed a hand over your mouth and tried your hardest to keep the tears at bay.

“It’s that bad, isn’t it? I told you, I wasn’t any good! Maybe you should increase my lessons to a few times a day.”

You shake your head, not turning to face him. Julian didn’t understand. It wasn’t horrible. It was actually the most beautiful, the most heartwarming thing you had ever seen. That’s why it was making your heart ache so.

As you look at his painting, the uncertain future runs rampant in your mind. With the way things were going, you had no idea the extent of Julian’s condition. You were just taking care of him until he no longer needed care. His body was battling you both, and you seemed to be fighting harder than you ever have but getting absolutely nowhere. You didn’t know if that painting could ever become a reality. You didn’t know hardly anything. You lived like every day as just that: 

A day. 

One at a time, tackling the challenges as they came. You didn’t like to think about the day those challenges would become too much to bear... and then just disappear. You didn’t like to think about that.

“(Y/n)? You know you won’t hurt my feelings. Just tell me the truth, how bad is it really?”

You just keep shaking your head. Tears were escaping your eyes, rolling down your cheeks and dripping down your fingers. They dotted the canvas like rain. You took a deep shaky breath, holding that precious painting in your hand for as long as you could stand to. Julian called you again. 

“Dear, look at me.”

You placed the painting on the easel, where it could be displayed and turned to your lover. 

“Oh... you’re crying. Don’t cry, don’t cry.”

Julian’s shoulders were hunched in defeat when he looked at you. He placed the cake on the nightstand and held open his arms to you. You went to him, breaking down every step of the way. Hiccups came, and then your bawling.

“Oh, I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t want this to happen. I was afraid it would.. Damn it.”

You crawl into Julian’s arms, not bothering to take off your heavy work clothes. He shrugs the covers around you attentively while you bury your head into the crook of his neck. Every breath you took was shaky, staggering, more like a sniffle. You just needed to be near him. 

“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t cry. I jus-”

Julian hushed you, stroking your head soothingly. His fingers were always so meticulous, so deft, knowing just what to do, surgeon’s fingers. You were in love with Julian’s hands.

“You don’t have to say anything, dear. It’s okay to cry.” 

Continue to Part 2

#julian the arcana #the arcana julian #julian devorak #julian x apprentice #julian x reader angst #julian x reader #the arcana oneshots #the arcana

[wint3r-h3art]

Hear me out: Attuma introducing reader to 🍑 stuff. He’d buy her the prettiest plug with a little jewel on top and be SO gentle, working her open with his fingers and moving so slowly, always checking in, always moving at her pace. Loves nothing more than to sit her in his lap and play with the plug, just to make her squirm and whine and grind into him, intrigued by how easily she gets wet when he uses the plug and would only move onto bigger (ahem) things when she’s comfortable with it

This is obviously for sugar daddy! Attuma, and I don’t hate this at all. He would be so interested in experimenting in new things that will you and him pleasure. Obviously he has a hard time trying to be firm when he’s disciplining you but he failed because he really just wants to fail you 😫🤌

Attuma is so big. He would literally split me open like a pistachio if he decides he wants to go through the back door 💀

#linda answered #attuma imagine #attuma thirst post #attuma thots #i think i would die

[aqua-murphys-law]

when it rains

Rating: K+ Warnings: panic attacks, breakdowns, self-depreciating thoughts Summary:

i’m only honest when it rains if i time it right, the thunder breaks when i open my mouth i wanna tell you but i don’t know how

~*~

With a life like Milo’s, it’s only a matter of time before he can’t just grin and bear it anymore. Some times are less convenient than others.

A/N: This started out as a purely self-indulgent “let Milo get angry and upset” whump fic, but hooooo boy there’s a lot to unpack now. My headcanons just will not give me a break. But hey, y’all get a +6k word fic out of the deal, so enjoy!

Check replies for a link to read on A03 for full tags, cause Tumblr hates links apparently! - Aqua

~*~

Of all the ways Milo Murphy has traveled to school, clinging to the top of a runaway ice cream stand that’s surfing a massive wave of pistachios is certainly one of the more palatable ones.

Hah, palatable- he almost makes the joke out loud, but between Zack’s screaming and Melissa’s shrieking laughter and the roar of wind and veering traffic in their ears, they probably won’t hear him. He files that pun away for later and turns his focus to their inevitable stopping; there’s a fountain up ahead that’s about the right height.

Adjusting his grip, Milo climbs over to the side of the stand, throwing its weight to the left. That changes its trajectory just enough to crash right into the fountain, tipping them and all the stand’s contents over into the small ocean of pistachios below. It’s like falling into a ball pit- if the balls in ball pits were tiny green nuts with miscellaneous ice cream sundae ingredients scattered about. Either way, it’s a soft enough landing, and the momentum carries them further down the road before the ground flattens out and they finally roll to a stop.

As fate would have it, the tidal wave of debris has carried them right to the school crosswalk, minutes before first bell. There’s a small group of their classmates waiting to cross, gaping at the wreckage. Milo picks himself out of the mess and dusts his knees off before helping Zack to his feet.

“Watch out for the banana peels,” Milo cautions. “They’re just as slippery in real life as they are in cartoons.”

Zack catches his breath. “Dude, that was kinda awesome.”

Milo’s heart swells happily, and he grins. “I’d say that’s one of our most palatable adventures yet.”

Zack’s eyes light up as he catches on, nudging Milo with his elbow. “It sherbet was!”

“No puns this early in the morning,” Melissa groans, picking pistachios out of her hair.

Milo digs a brush out of his backpack and hands it to her. “Sorry, Melissa,” he says good-naturedly.

“Yeah, sorry,” Zack says, “we know you don’t… cone-done that behavior.”

Milo hides a laugh behind his hand while Melissa lightly punches Zack’s arm before continuing to brush out the pistachios. Then he takes a second to look over the damage again, double-checking no one got caught in the crossfire. It’s a good thing the stand hadn’t been open yet when that freighter full of pistachios exploded-

“Stop! Milo.”

Milo looks over at the familiar voice, smiling. “Hi, Elliot.”

As always, the crossing guard is brandishing his stop sign at them. His attention seems to be split between staring at Milo and staring at the heap of food in the street.

Melissa rolls her eyes. “We’re already stopped,” she points out, passing the brush back to Milo. “You know, just a group of middle school kids, waiting for the crossing guard to help them cross the street?”

“Yeah,” Zack adds, “your job?”

Elliot makes a disbelieving sound. “What, the giant mountain of walnuts hasn’t stopped traffic enough as it is?”

“Actually, they’re pistachios,” Milo says helpfully, tucking the brush away. “And sure, but it’s really best to wait for authorized personnel to formally halt the flow of traffic using proper signage instead of taking your chances.”

“I know that!” Elliot protests, sounding irritable. He holds the stop sign out, gesturing with his other hand for them all to cross. “Alright, move it along, people…”

Milo is happy to do so, leaving Elliot’s grumbling behind. It’s always a good morning when he actually makes it to school, and on time. Walking beside him, Melissa’s already whipped her phone out to share the pictures she took during all the excitement, snickering at the way Zack’s eyes widen. Milo chuckles to himself; how she manages to get such incredible shots, he’ll never know.

They reach the sidewalk on the other side without incident. He can hear the echoes of sirens from responding emergency vehicles starting up across town and knows they’ll be at the scene in a couple minutes. That makes him feel better about heading inside before they arrive, though he laments the fact that he won’t get to thank them personally-

“You know, Murphy, these catastrophes would be a lot more bearable if you took them seriously.”

Milo pauses, tilting his head. Melissa and Zack are already frowning at Elliot, but he wants to make sure he’s accurately identified the disdain in Elliot’s voice and isn’t just missing sarcasm again.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

Elliot folds his arms with a huff, his stop sign sticking out at an angle. “I mean, you walk around with that grin on your face, brushing everything off like it’s no big deal.” He scowls at Milo over his glasses. “Do you even care about all the chaos you leave in your wake?”

Milo blinks, his smile faltering. Is that the impression people get from him?

Zack steps forward. “Hey man, back off,” he snaps at Elliot.

“Yeah,” Melissa chimes in, folding her arms, “you’re just bitter because people keep assuming you’re in your thirties.” She jerks her chin over at the doors. “Come on, Milo.”

Milo manages to smile again, but it feels strained. “Elliot, I can assure you that I understand the severity of Murphy’s Law,” he says carefully, moving to follow Melissa up the rest of the stairs.

“Well, you certainly don’t act like it,” Elliot gripes after them, a parting jab.

Milo should let it go, he knows he should. This is just how Elliot is; there’s no way somebody so pathologically obsessed with safety would ever see Milo as anything more than a hazard. But this is more than simply placing blame on him for Murphy’s Law. That, he’s used to. He can handle that.

What he can’t stand for is the implication that he doesn’t care when people get hurt. Not when he works so hard to avoid it- often at the expense of his own wellbeing. If he only worried about himself, Murphy’s Law would be exponentially easier to deal with. Most people don’t realize that.

He stops walking, turning to look Elliot dead in the eye. “What’s the alternative?” he asks, his face blank and voice held carefully neutral.

Elliot’s clearly surprised at the question. He hesitates, shooting a wary look at Melissa and Zack, before he manages a shrug. “I don’t know, just some indication that you’re actually sorry for everything going wrong all the time?”

Milo’s grip on his backpack goes white-knuckled. “You think I should feel sorry?” he asks quietly.

Elliot flounders for a second. “I, uh… well, yes?”

It’s one thing for Milo to impulsively feel responsible for any destruction caused by Murphy’s Law, before he can remind himself that it’s not his fault. But it’s another thing entirely for someone to tell him that he should feel that way, all the time.

“What would you like me to do?” he presses. “Walk around with my head hung low, overcome with guilt every time Murphy’s Law happens? Apologize constantly when the majority of the people in my life have been dealing with it for years? Or- or beat myself up over something I can’t change or control?”

Elliot’s eyes widen, his brows shooting up to his hairline. “Now listen, that’s not exactly what I said-”

“But it’s what you meant, right?” Milo asks in a voice he doesn’t recognize. It’s white-hot with anger, and he can feel the glare that’s drawing his eyebrows down into a point, the way it’s narrowing his eyes. It’s an unfamiliar expression.

Oh, this is dangerous territory. Anger isn’t safe; it clouds the mind and fosters rash decisions, preventing one from thinking clearly. He can’t afford to have his judgement skewed, his reaction time hampered by the distraction of wrestling emotions under control. Not here, when there’s so many people around who could get hurt by his inability to act if something were to happen.

Melissa tugs Milo by the arm, trying to pull him away. “Milo, come on, he’s not worth it,” she says, her voice low and urgent.

The concern in her voice pricks at him. He’s aware, to some degree, that they’ve attracted an audience; the other kids that crossed with them are lingering, whispering to each other. He’s aware that his heart is starting to race and his skin feels flushed, the unpleasant physical effects of anger. And he’s especially aware of Zack’s gaze on him, what he must be thinking of the whole situation.

But Milo abruptly finds that he doesn’t care. Maybe that should concern him, too.

Elliot holds up his hands, something akin to panic flashing across his face. “Hey, look, I didn’t-”

“If I let myself feel bad every time Murphy’s Law happened, I’d never stop,” Milo says sharply. “Do you realize that? You’re only exposed to Murphy’s Law in the brief moments I’m around you. But for me, it never ends. It doesn’t have a weekly schedule, it doesn’t take days off. It doesn’t even stop when I’m asleep. And I will be dealing with it for the rest of my life.”

A horrible silence follows, even Elliot seeming lost for words.

Chills erupt across Milo’s skin. The fiery anger inside him suddenly extinguishes, leaving him cold and hollow. He’s struck with the realization that in his lashing out, he’s only just upset himself more. Because he doesn’t like to think about the future, about how everything he’s experienced so far in his short life is just the tip of the iceberg, and there he goes, now he’s thinking about it-

Something wet runs down his cheek.

Instinctively, Milo looks up to find the source. But there aren’t any clouds in the sky threatening a sudden downpour, no leaky pipes or anything else to drip water on him. Brows knitting in confusion, he absently reaches a hand up to his face.

Then his eyes start to sting as his vision blurs, and it hits him.

He’s crying.

… he’s crying?

A sound gets choked in his throat, something that sounds suspiciously like a whimper. Horror sweeps through him but it’s rapidly being outdone by the overwhelming hysteria.

Oh no. No, no, no, he can’t be crying, not here. He stumbles away from Elliot, his backpack hitting the stair railing with a soft thud, and presses the heels of his palms against his burning eyes. Stop, stop, stop! Colors bloom behind his closed lids, intensifying as he increases the pressure until it’s almost painful, desperately willing the tears to go away.

He’s not supposed to be crying at school. If there’s anything more distracting than anger, it’s crying. There are too many people around him, something could go wrong at any second and he won’t be able to protect them like this- something could be going wrong right now and he won’t notice because he’s too busy falling to pieces.

Panic kicks in, and the harsh echo in his ears tells him he’s hyperventilating. That’s definitely not helping, but the part of him that realizes this is remarkably absent, like he’s become disconnected from his own body.

The rest of him is pretty sure he’s about to die. And not in the way he’s familiar with.

Two hands circle his wrists, pulling them down from his eyes in a grip that’s gentle yet firm. Melissa’s face swims into focus.

~*~

Melissa searches Milo’s face, her heart sinking.

“Milo?” she tries. “You okay?”

Milo doesn’t respond, but he squeezes his eyes shut, sending a few more tears streaking down his face. She can feel his pulse jumping under the scarred skin of his wrists. His heartbeat, normally so steady, is running fast and erratic.

Something is very wrong.

“Woah, uh, is he okay?” Elliot asks, alarmed.

“You don’t get to talk,” Melissa hisses at him before turning back to Milo. It’s incredibly hard to push her anger down, but she has to, for his sake. “Milo,” she says, softer, “it’s me. You’re alright. We’re gonna go somewhere else, okay?”

Milo still doesn’t respond, but he curls a little closer to her. Melissa takes a second to shoot a warning look at the other kids gathered around. “Give us some space,” she orders them. And then, “Zack, you’re with me.”

They must hear the barely restrained fury in her voice, because the doors are cleared in record time. Zack unfreezes and swiftly places himself on the other side of Milo, his hands fidgeting like he isn’t sure what to do with them.

Gently, Melissa starts leading Milo up the stairs, into the school. Thankfully, he follows. He seems to be in a daze, too focused on his internal panic to take notice of what’s going on around him. Melissa is suddenly very grateful that she and Zack are here, because if Milo were alone in such a state, he wouldn’t be able to protect himself from any Murphy’s Law incidents.

Speaking of Zack, the other boy has moved slightly in front of them, paving a way through the various students still lingering in the halls before class.

“Where to?” he asks over his shoulder, voice tight with worry.

“Somewhere quiet and out of the way.”

“Under the stairwell?”

Melissa follows Zack’s gaze to the stairwell before nodding swiftly. They make a beeline for it, swerving only to avoid a ceiling tile that drops out of its frame above them. She catches the edge of it with her shoe and sends it skidding along the floor, out of the way. Serves it right.

She ducks under the stairwell, careful to pull Milo down after her so he doesn’t hit his head. The little alcove is a bit dusty, but it’s quiet and away from prying eyes, so it’ll do. She shrugs her backpack off and sits against the wall, taking Milo’s weight.

He leans on her heavily, like he doesn’t have the energy to hold himself upright. She’s tempted to slip off his backpack as well, since that’s probably accounting for a third of his weight right now, but she knows that would only make him panic further.

He’s still breathing way too fast for her liking, blinking rapidly to try and fight back tears. The glassy look in his eyes is so unlike him, it makes her heart clench painfully.

Zack’s voice hovers anxiously somewhere above her. “Has this happened before?”

“Not in public,” Melissa answers shortly. Then she swallows hard and forces her voice to come out calm and gentle. “Hey Milo, you with me?”

It takes a second for Milo to find her eyes, trembling all the while.

Melissa holds his gaze, pouring as much reassurance into it as she can. “Good, that’s good. Zack’s here with us. Is that alright?”

Milo doesn’t look over at Zack, but he manages a nod.

“Okay,” Melissa murmurs. She takes a quick look to make sure no one’s wandering by the stairwell before turning back to Milo. “We’re alone now, just us three. We’re safe.” She takes a deep breath. “Go ahead.”

Milo’s face crumples. “Melissa-”

He finally breaks, burying his face in her shoulder. His sobs are partially muffled by her jacket- which is quickly becoming damp- but she can feel the force of each one, the way his chest heaves for breath. He holds her arms like his life depends on it, pressing close to her as if he’s trying to hide away from the world.

Even though she’s preparing herself for it, hearing him cry brings a fresh wave of tears to her own eyes. Stubbornly, she stares up at the ceiling until they recede. She can’t break down right now. Milo needs her.

Think about something else, something funny. Like how great it’s going to feel to get Elliot back for this. There’s a petting zoo service nearby that rents out ducks. If she places an order soon, she could probably get them before Monday. How many ducks is too many, she wonders?

“So hey, uh, what’s going on?” Zack’s low murmur brings her out of the daydream. He’s looking at Milo with a stricken expression. “Is he going to be okay?”

Melissa exhales, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face. “He will be,” she says softly. “He’s just overwhelmed.”

Zack runs a hand through his hair. “Is- is there anything I can do?” he asks helplessly.

There isn’t much, but she can tell just from looking at him that his anxiety is skyrocketing right now, on the verge of his own panic attack. Giving him something, anything else to focus on might help.

“Keep people off us, and watch for any trouble,” Melissa decides.

It’s strange to think that she’s only known this boy for a few months, yet she’d trust him with hers and Milo’s wellbeing. But Zack’s proven he can handle Murphy’s Law, and she knows he’ll protect them with everything he’s got.

She’s proven right when Zack’s expression hardens, and he nods. Turning around, he goes to stand at the mouth of the alcove, blocking her and Milo from view of the hallway. His hands twitch at his sides, ready to act. Just like that.

Not for the first time, Melissa is thankful that Zack became their friend. Milo chose well.

And speaking of Milo, the panic seems to have finally ebbed. Now it’s just regular crying, without the hyperventilating and shaking. The knot in her stomach loosens, but only slightly- they aren’t out of the woods yet.

Gently, she drums her fingers along his spine, beating a soothing rhythm against the body armor he wears under his clothes. The muffled thuds are too light for him to feel; it’s really just so he has a sound to focus on. She’s found that helps, in the past.

But she doesn’t try to shush him. Now that he’s actually crying, he needs to get it all out. She tries to imagine that her arms around Milo are a safety net, allowing him to be vulnerable without fear. She hopes he can pick up on it.

The next several minutes pass in relative calm- if holding your friend while he has a breakdown can be considered calm. A couple times, Melissa catches wind of something going on in the hallway, some likely improbable object coming their way. But thanks to Zack’s vigilance, nothing comes close, letting her focus all her attention on Milo.

It’s not long after second bell when Milo starts to come back to himself. His grip on her arms tightens and then immediately slackens, and the next breath he takes is a deep one, though it shudders on the exhale.

There are a couple moments where Milo is still and quiet, just the occasional sniffle as his breathing evens out. Then he pulls back enough to look at Melissa, his eyes red and teary but no longer vacant.

“Melissa?” he breathes, his voice small.

Melissa lets out a sigh of relief, managing a tired smile. “There you are.”

“Hey, buddy.” As relieved as Melissa feels, Zack sounds about a hundred times more so. He kneels down next to them, his hand once again awkwardly hovering over Milo’s shoulder before retreating. “How you feeling?”

Milo glances around, taking in their surroundings. Melissa can almost see the moment realization hits; his mouth presses into a tight line before he looks away, wiping at his eyes. “Guys, I- I am so sorry-”

“Don’t you dare,” Melissa cuts him off sternly.

Milo swallows hard, tucking his knees to his chest. “But it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have lost my cool back there,” he mumbles guiltily. “It was just Elliot being, y- you know, Elliot, and I got-”

“Rightfully upset,” Melissa finishes for him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, dude, you’ve got nothing to apologize for,” Zack agrees.

Milo’s smile is thin, but his eyes are thoughtful. Melissa hopes they’ve gotten through to him. She isn’t going to push it any more, though, not right now.

“Now, c’mon, let’s get off the floor,” she says, straightening up. “My legs are falling asleep.”

Milo accepts the hand she offers him, letting her pull him up and out from under the stairwell. He looks a little shaky on his feet, his face still paler than normal, but he jolts when he notices the clock.

“Oh no, we’re late for first period. We’d better-”

“Nuh uh.” Melissa holds fast to his arm. “After a bout like that, you need to go home and rest.”

Milo hesitates. “I miss so much school already…”

Melissa shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter. Mental health days are included under excused absences, you know. We’ll let the teachers know and grab your homework for you.”

“Seriously, it’s alright,” Zack says softly.

Milo studies them both before nodding. “Okay,” he relents. “Thanks.”

Melissa whips out her phone to text his mom. As she does so, she notices Milo is starting to lean against Zack for support. The other boy doesn’t seem to mind, his arm automatically shifting around Milo’s shoulders. It seems his earlier reservations are gone, now that Milo’s sought out the contact. It’s a cute sight.

“Alright,” Melissa tucks her phone away, “your mom’s on her way over. I asked her to meet us in the back lot, just in case the jerk-who-shall-not-be-named is still skulking around.”

Milo nods slightly, giving her a grateful smile before his gaze lowers again.

Now that he’s given up on toughing out the day, he’s starting to withdraw. He doesn’t always go nonverbal after a crying spell, but the panic attack has to have done a number on him.

They aren’t common for Milo, panic attacks. Melissa knows his stress response is… highly abnormal. Even before she met him, he’d been living in a constant state of stress for years. She’s not sure if he’s learned to tune it out, or if his body has just stopped responding to common stressors by this point. But she knows he rarely gets a physical reaction to danger, that ‘fight or flight’ response that spikes you up with adrenaline.

This is clearly a different ball game. The only time she can recall anything remotely similar to this happening was the first time she got seriously hurt by Murphy’s Law. And it didn’t even happen on the spot; he hadn’t broken down until visiting her in the hospital after the fact.

That was a long time ago, but it left quite the impression. The hyperventilating and shaking, she remembers. And that distant, glassy expression. It was something she hoped she’d never have to witness again, but of course, life has other plans.

Not that she blames Milo for it. After all, however difficult this is for her, it’s much, much worse for him. Losing control of his emotions hits him hard, because his life is already so out of control as it is. The one thing he should always have control over is himself, but he doesn’t.

And even though she’s long since made peace with the idea that life isn’t fair, this feels particularly, especially unfair. With all the danger Murphy’s Law brings, Milo shouldn’t have to deal with guilt, judgmental crossing guards, or a misplaced sense of responsibility so severe that he feels like he isn’t even allowed to cry.

Her expression must be troubled, because Milo lightly bumps against her arm. By the time she looks over, he’s already averted his gaze again- eye contact is probably a bit much for him right now- but she appreciates the gesture anyways.

‘Don’t worry,’ he seems to be saying.

Well… she can try not to, for his sake.

~*~

Zack can’t help stealing glances at Milo as they make their way down the hall.

He knows he shouldn’t be staring, because Milo doesn’t seem too keen on eye contact at the moment. It’s just hard to resist the urge to check up on him. Most of Zack’s focus was on keeping Murphy’s Law at bay, so he couldn’t really keep tabs on how the situation was going.

He can’t shake how jarring it was to see Milo like that. It’s a very good thing Melissa was there to snap him into action, because if she hadn’t, he probably would’ve just stood there frozen like a complete idiot, not helping the situation at all.

And how sad is that? Milo saves Zack over and over again, every time disaster strikes, but the one time Milo really needs him, Zack’s totally useless.

He should’ve seen that the conversation was going south and shut it down. He should’ve stood up for Milo more, or tried to get him out of the situation. He should’ve-

There’s a slight tug at the hem of his shirt. When he turns his head, he finds Milo’s hand gripping there. Not pulling, or trying to get his attention- Milo’s facing straight ahead, eyes downcast. Just, holding. Whether it’s an attempt to give comfort or receive it, Zack’s not sure.

But it does give him something else to focus on, aside from the spiraling thoughts in his head, and he smiles softly. Just in case Milo can see it out of the corner of his eye.

It’s a good reminder; there’s no point in dwelling on the past. He needs to keep moving forward, like Milo does.

They reach the back doors without issue, and are greeted by an empty parking lot. Fortunately, there aren’t any late stragglers- aside from them, of course. It’s a nice day, not too cold, so Zack doesn’t mind waiting a few minutes. Maybe the fresh air will help Milo. It’s certainly helping Zack.

He lets out a deep breath, feeling a little better for it. Milo settles further against his side while they wait, his cheek pressed against Zack’s shoulder. That steals the breath Zack just got back, but that’s the least of his concerns right now.

He’s not sure if he’s relieved or disappointed when Mrs. Murphy’s car pulls into the lot. Milo perks up a bit, though still remains silent as his mother exits the car. She takes in Milo’s current state with no comment, just a sad, knowing look in her eyes, and Zack wonders if this is more common than he realized.

“You ready to go, honey?” she asks kindly.

Milo hesitates for a second, then turns and abruptly gives a hug to the both of them. It’s a quick thing, but Zack feels his face heat up immediately; Milo’s never hugged him before. And that thought is followed by his heart swelling almost painfully, because Milo’s never hugged him before. With that context, it’s a deeply touching gesture.

After stepping away, Milo darts over to his mom, hiding his face in her side. She smooths a hand over his hair, murmuring something too low for Zack to hear, before smiling at them gratefully. “Thanks, you two.”

“No problem, Mrs. Murphy,” Melissa replies. “Feel better soon, Milo.”

“Yeah, take it easy,” Zack calls after them.

The car pulls away, and Zack can see Diogee clambering into Milo’s lap before they’re out of view. That makes him feel a little better. Still, he sends a quick prayer to the universe that the car ride goes smoothly, without any Murphy’s Law incidents. Milo really deserves a break.

Next to him, Melissa stands motionless, watching the car leave. Zack clears his throat. “Well, we should probably head back…”

Melissa shakes her head, sitting down on the steps. “First period’s already half-over by now, no point in going.” She shrugs. “Plus, we need to talk this out, or it’ll turn into one of those weird unspoken things.”

“Oh.” Hesitantly, Zack sits down next to her. If Melissa is willing to play hooky, it must be important. “Alright, then.”

They sit in silence for a few moments, listening to the sounds of distant traffic. He’d been expecting Melissa to start the conversation, but she seems to be waiting for him, instead. Waiting to see what his reaction is.

It hadn’t taken long for Melissa to go from ‘Milo’s only other friend’ to ‘Milo and Zack’s friend.’ Once she warmed up to him, she’d moved right along to acting like they’d known each other for years. But they certainly haven’t had any deep, serious discussions before. He’s not quite sure how to proceed.

Zack rubs the back of his neck, feeling awkward. “So, uh… that happened.”

“Yep.” Melissa exhales heavily, but her expression is sympathetic. “I’m sorry you weren’t more prepared, it’s just that he tries to handle these things privately.”

Zack frowns. “These things? What do you mean?”

Melissa stares out over the parking lot, her brows knit together. “Milo breaks bones on a monthly basis. He comes away with some kind of injury on a near-daily basis. And the constant threat of danger plus the massive amount of effort required to deal with it would be enough to drive anyone to tears.”

“And…?” Zack prompts, confused.

Melissa glances at him out of the side of her eye. “Before now, have you ever seen him cry?”

Zack opens his mouth to reply, ‘Of course I have!’ because surely it would’ve happened at some point. He knows Milo gets hurt frequently, he’s watched it happen. But as he thinks about it, he can’t actually recall a time when tears were involved. Not even for broken bones.

“I… woah, you’re right,” Zack realizes, his stomach dropping.

Melissa nods grimly. “He doesn’t like crying. Says it messes with his ability to react to Murphy’s Law. So he just… doesn’t let himself cry, most of the time, no matter how hurt he gets. It’s been like that for as long as I’ve known him.”

It takes a second for the full implications to hit Zack. “Wait, didn’t you guys meet when you were six?”

“Yep.”

“Oh.” Zack swallows. They might be old enough now that crying isn’t as common, but Milo’s been like this since he was six, possibly younger. Zack himself was a bit of a crybaby at that age, even a skinned knee sending him into hysterics.

And sure, maybe it’s embarrassing to look back on, but that’s normal for little kids.

Milo didn’t get to have that.

“That’s… kinda sad,” Zack murmurs.

“I know,” Melissa sighs. “Of course, he can’t bottle it up forever. And crying is an important chemical release, it’s healthy. So he just puts it off until he’s safe at home, usually on a weekend. That way, he’s got his family there to look out for him, and he doesn’t have to worry about anyone else getting caught up in Murphy’s Law. I’ve only been there for a handful of them, but he probably goes for months in between. It’s… a lot of buildup.”

The pieces are starting to fall into place. Zack inhales sharply. “So, when he does finally let himself cry…”

Melissa gives him a thin smile. “Well, you know what they say. When it rains, it pours.” She wraps her arms around herself. “But this time was worse than normal, because he was having a panic attack on top of it. He really didn’t want to break down at school.”

Zack nods slowly, brows furrowing. “Wow. I had no idea.”

Melissa makes a noncommittal noise. “It’s not your fault, he doesn’t like people to know.”

Alarm shoots through Zack. This is a deeply personal aspect of Milo’s life. What if he wasn’t ready for Zack to see it? What if Zack’s intruding?

Melissa must have noticed the panic on his face, because she waves him off. “Don’t worry, him letting you stay was giving permission for me to tell you this. Just, people, in general. He puts a lot of work into staying upbeat all the time, and he doesn’t want that ruined by something like this.”

Zack chews on his lip, only slightly relieved. Quite a few people saw the beginning of the whole thing. “Is he gonna be okay? I know it was just some kids from class, but…”

“I think he will be,” Melissa says thoughtfully. “He’s been branching out a lot more this year, in terms of making friends.” She smiles faintly at him. “We’ve got you to thank for that.”

The sudden diverge throws Zack for a loop. “What do you mean?”

Melissa leans back on her elbows, contemplative. “I mean, if Milo and I started a band last year, Mort wouldn’t have dreamed of joining. If we’d been crazy enough to have a birthday party, no one would’ve come. For as long as all of us here can remember, Milo’s just had me. But seeing you give him a chance… I don’t know, I think it’s helped them realize they don’t have to stay so far away.”

Zack’s stunned. “I… guess I hadn’t thought about it.”

That’s an understatement. Zack found his place so readily within this new school that he hadn’t stopped to consider what things had been like before. He knows Milo didn’t have any close friends aside from Melissa, but had the other kids in class always been nothing more than scant acquaintances? Was it new for them to engage Milo in conversation or willingly be around him?

Then Zack thinks back to the day they met, at the bus stop. The way the other kids there had immediately scrambled away from Milo, expressions full of fear. And he’s pretty sure he knows the answer.

Melissa hums. “Yep. You’re a trendsetter.”

Zack rubs his arm, embarrassed. He really doesn’t deserve accolades just for giving Milo a chance. “So… do you cry often?” he ventures, changing the subject.

Melissa rolls her eyes at him. “I’d say a normal amount, for someone in my circumstances. Whenever I’m seriously hurt, you can bet I’m crying about it. Not everyone can just block out that kind of pain.” Her expression sobers. “But even on the emotional side of things, if there’s ever a particularly rough day, then yeah, I’ll go home and cry it out. It’s a good release.”

“Huh.” Zack scratches his head. “Gotta say, I’m a little surprised. You seem to handle Murphy’s Law so well, you know?”

Melissa snorts. “Yeah, only because I let myself cry every now and them. No one can deal with all that disaster and destruction without it getting to them. Not even Milo.”

“Fair point,” Zack amends.

“So, what about you?” Melissa elbows him. “C’mon, don’t be a hypocrite.”

Zack flushes. “I mean, yeah, sometimes,” he admits. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to be friends with Milo, but Murphy’s Law can be… stressful.” Particularly on top of his normal anxiety, but she doesn’t need to know that.

Melissa nods approvingly. “Good. Own it. Being part of a Murphy’s life has its ups and down. It also has its own set of rules.”

“Like what?” Zack asks, tilting his head.

“You need to make sure you relieve stress on a regular basis, whether that’s through crying or something else. And you need to relax on a regular basis, too. Not necessarily in that order,” she adds, as an afterthought.

Zack raises his eyebrows. “Oh, okay. Anything else I should be aware of?”

Melissa counts them off on her fingers. “Stay hydrated, get regular sleep, have a good amount of protein in the diet…”

“That just sounds like normal self-care stuff,” Zack points out flatly.

Melissa squints at him. “Touché.” Then she snaps her fingers. “Gargling salt water can help your throat recover from over-screaming. Oh, and Murphys are legally protected from being discriminated against by an accord written in the early 1900’s, so don’t be afraid to cite it. Also, Milo craves physical affection from those he’s close to, but he doesn’t feel he has the right to ask for it.”

Zack blinks. “Figure all this out yourself?”

“Nah, Mrs. Murphy had some tips.” Melissa’s humor fades. “Seriously though, I noticed your hesitation back there. That’s a good instinct, since plenty of people don’t like to be touched during panic attacks. But you don’t need to worry about it with Milo, that’s one of the few times he actually seeks out comfort.”

Zack jolts with surprise. He hadn’t though Melissa would pick up on that- at the time, he was hardly aware of what he was doing, himself. “Oh, alright then.”

“And just for the record,” Melissa’s expression turns mischievous, “if you were a little more forthcoming with physical affection on a day-to-day basis, I don’t think Milo would mind.”

Zack jumps to his feet like he’s been electrocuted, choking on air. “O- oh, sure, of course. Being close to Milo, I don’t have a problem with that, why would I have a problem with that?” he babbles, feeling his face heat up. “I mean, I don’t not have a problem with it, I mean, not more than the normal amount for two friends-” Okay, Zack, time to shut up now.

Melissa just snickers at him, standing up and dusting off her skirt. “C’mon, it’s about time to head in. Ready for a completely average, boring, uneventful day?”

Zack sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets with a rueful grin. “If we must.”

Maybe it’s not so bad to have a little time to process things, considering how much he has to process.

~*~

Milo’s only been curled up on the couch for a couple hours when his phone buzzes.

It’s a selfie from Melissa, in science class. She’s angled the phone to get Zack in the background of the shot; he’s clearly dozing, eyelids drooping as he rests his chin in his hand. Melissa’s giving the camera a knowing look, and the caption reads, ‘Someone’s missing you!’

Milo’s heart skips a beat. He quickly attributes it to surprise that Melissa is actually texting in class- though he knows she’s just checking in with him. It’s a thoughtful gesture, and he sends a couple emojis back. Words, even in text form, are still hard right now. But he knows she’ll understand, because she and Zack are the best friends a Murphy could ask for.

He’s lucky like that, to not have to weather this storm alone.

~*~

#milo murphy's law #mml #my writing

[derireo]

💫💫💫for omi's birthday can we get autumn making him a birthday cake that doesn't turn out very well aesthetically

𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐚

“Why the hell is the cake lopsided?” Sakyo groaned as he walked into the kitchen with some of Omi’s favourite candies he bought with Izumi not too long ago.

Banri, Juza, and Taichi were working on the cake as he went to buy some stuff to decorate with the frosting, and he came home to this. A cake that was falling apart and three teenagers who were barking at each other, fighting over what colour to make the frosting.

“An orange tint! Doesn’t that suit Omi?” Taichi complained while holding up his orange food colouring that he was on the verge of spilling into the white frosting without permission. Banri knew what he was planning though and snatched the capsule away from the smaller boy with gritted teeth.

“No fuckin’ way. Let’s do red.” Banri said, keeping his lovely aesthetic choices in mind, while both Juza and Taichi cringed at the terrible suggestion.

“Can we just keep it white? We don’t need to be flashy.” The purple-haired boy muttered, staring at the cake as it sadly drooped on one side.

Taichi was too hasty and wanted to pile the cakes on top of each other when they weren’t even fully cooled yet, so it was inevitable for the thing to look so...depressing.

Juza didn’t even protest when Sakyo talked about how ugly the thing was; he agreed.

“Here. Strategically put these on the cake when you brats are done choosing a colour.” Sakyo muttered and threw the plastic bag in his hand on top of the counter. 

“Why are there pistachios in here?” Taichi scrunched his nose, holding up the package to which Sakyo quickly snatched the small bag from the kid’s hand.

“Those are for me and Izumi.” Sakyo sighed. “The cashews are for Omi.”

Banri made a disgusted sound. “You want us to put cashews on the cake? Like fuckin’ maniacs?”

The man with the glasses braced himself against the doorway of the kitchen with a deep inhale, holding himself back from bashing his head against the back of his hand.

“There’s M&Ms in the bag, dipshit.” The blond gritted. “Use those.”

“Wow. Why didn’t ya just say so?” Banri grinned and grabbed the bag of chocolate when he found it, nodding at Juza as he split open the wrapper. “We’ll keep the frosting white to save time.”

Juza nodded back and began to frost the cake as best as he could without making the tiers collapse more than they already had, Sakyo watching the three teenagers from the doorway as they bickered and threw chocolates at the spots Juza had covered with the frosting.

“God, that is so ugly.” Izumi whispered beside Sakyo when she took a peek over his shoulder, gently prying the pistachios from his hand to start munching on them as the trio in the kitchen screamed when the cake leaned just a liiiittle more to the side.

“If it’s from the heart, I’m sure Fushimi will like it.” Sakyo shrugged and snatched a pistachio from Izumi’s fingers.

And the old man was right, actually, because despite the overload of candies on the cake and despite half of the cake already collapsing by the time Omi entered the kitchen with his dazzling smile and very brotherly greeting of ruffling the hair of each boy, the man really did love it.

Some parts really were undercooked though, deeming the cake kind of inedible, but Omi loved the effort that was put in it, and he absolutely loved the messy writing that wrote out ‘Happy Birthday!’.

It was kind of lucky that the man had brought home a bakery bought cake to share with everyone though. It was sitting on the coffee table.

Juza still ate the messed up one (don’t waste food as Sakyo would say).

#a3! #a3! act! addict! actors! #omi fushimi #juza hyodo #banri settsu #taichi nanao #sakyo furuichi #bday boy omi #bday boy omi event #this is also another double rq! heads up to the other anon!

[the-blind-assassin-12]

18, 33 and 39 for Mister Ryan Brenner! 🎼🖤

Mister Ryan Brenner makes me all swoony eyed so thanks for choosing him!! 

Ryan Brenner x Junebug Reader 

18:  Who gets the window seat?

On a plane? Well, Ryan’s never been on a plane, and Junebug has only flown a handful of times. But if they were to go somewhere by air Ryan would absolutely give up the window seat. He likes to be on the ground and when he can’t be he likes to at least see it. 

The nicest thing about traveling on the trains like they do is that if it’s an open car they both get the window seat. (ha ha) But the few times they’ve taken a bus or bought tickets on a passenger train, Ryan takes the window and Junebug leans into his side with his arm around her. They both think the view is better that way. 

33:  How do they eat ice cream? What’s their favorite flavors?

YOU DON’T KNOW HOW HAPPY IT MAKES ME WHENEVER ANYONE ASKS ABOUT RYAN AND FOOD. There is not a single food item that that man eats with grace, and not a single food item that he cannot make into a full blown mess and that is precisely why I love thinking about him shoving snacks in his face. 

Junebug prefers to eat her ice cream in a cup or bowl, because she takes her time and likes to be able to put it down between bites. She’s also a fan of toppings, and let’s face it you can only add so much to a cone. Favorite flavors include vanilla, pistachio and cookie dough.  

Ryan would forgo toppings for another scoop of ice cream every single time, and he’d never opt for a bowl if he could have a cone. You can’t eat a bowl, after all, and the sweet smell of a fresh waffle cone when you first walk into an ice cream shop is one of Ryan’s favorite smells. It reminded him of the summer that his cousin Patrick worked at an ice cream shop and he and the rest of them had spent every rainy day holed up in the tiny booths while Patrick tried not to burn the waffle cones for the line of customers whose beach days had been defeated by the weather. 

How does he eat it? Well. He doesn’t let a single drip go to waste, that’s for sure. Whether it’s melting down the cone or running over his fingers, he’ll lick or suck it before it even has a chance of hitting the floor. And if you ever eat a spoonful and have some leftover on your lips? Don’t worry, Junebug, Ryan will get it for you. 

His favorite flavors are butter pecan, rocky road and chocolate.    

39:  Who leaves little notes in the other one’s lunch? (Bonus: What does it say?)

Well, they don’t really pack lunches for one another, but every now and then they do spend some time apart. And when they do, they both usually try to leave “hidden” notes for each other- ones that they hope they won’t find right away. For example, Ryan and Junebug split up for a few days they first time they head back to Colorado. On their last night together while she was asleep, Ryan went into her pack and stuck a note into the center of a rolled up pair of socks. It said Thinkin’ about you. No matter what time it is. Another? When reader went back home for the first time, Ryan gave her a couple of weeks to settle back in with her family before spending time there with her. In that time he took a short trip back home himself, and Junebug surprised him by sending him a postcard by way of his Aunt Holly. He’d told her about how his aunt would always hold his mail for him, so before they’d even gotten back to New Jersey she plucked a postcard from a gas station and wrote Can’t wait for you to get here, Ryan. When he got it and saw where it was from, he felt a rush of warmth flood his chest because he knew for a fact that she’d written it sitting right next to him. 

#otp asks #ask me anything #thanks for asking #pheedraws #ryan brenner #ryan brenner x reader #ryan brenner x you #ryan brenner x junebug #passing through #passing through ryan #ryan and food is my happy place #so THANK YOU for asking that one