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NATSUME YUUJINCHOU SEASON 7 RELEASES THIS FALL!!! THANK YOU ANIME GODS😭😭

Transformers Prime: Optimus + Reader. Chapter 1.

So, I read @lovinglonerhybrid 's post here. And it absolutely had me in a chokehold, so this is based off that premise. I'm in the UK so please excuse my ignorance of American states lmao.

So, there is a part 2 to this, but I'm going away for 4 days and wanted to get some of it posted before then.

You've broken down fifteen miles short of Jasper's city limits in the dead of night. Deciding to hike in to town, you feel the earth rumble beneath you, and over the horizon, something enormous approaches...

Chapter 1: 9352 words.

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It’s a rare and covetous thing, to find even a single moment of peace in the midst of an intergalactic war.

The gap from one of those precious moments to the next seems to grow wider and wider every time, until their frequency is so negligible, it becomes hard to recognise them for what they are anymore.

For everything Earth could have offered Optimus Prime, he hadn’t been expecting it to relinquish the gift of peace so willingly. But he’s glad – more than glad – to accept them when they come, even if he’s only stealing glimpses of tranquillity on the sand-swept road leading out of Jasper.

Low-beam headlights lazily trace over the faded tarmac ahead of Optimus’s tyres as he trundles along Highway 49, one of only two roads that surround the small, sleepy city of Jasper. It’s a very routine patrol, one he obligingly excused Bumblebee from taking after his poor scout all but begged Optimus to give it to someone else, beeping out promises that he’ll take double shift tomorrow night, if need be.

All this on the back of Miko announcing another of her ‘slumber parties’ at the base, much to Ratchet’s noisy chagrin and Optimus’s private amusement. And, of course, when Bumblebee found out that Rafael would be staying the night too… Well…

‘You’re too indulging,’ their old medic had admonished from his workstation, the broad expanse of his back turned to the Prime, ‘He ought to learn he can’t always have his way.’

But it was a harmless indulgence, and Prime was more than happy to take over the patrol in this instance.

Besides, he had an arguably selfish reason for doing so.

If he’d admitted as much out loud, Ratchet would have scoffed and sent a pulse of chiding dismissal crashing into Optimus’s EM field. ‘You don’t have a selfish component in your body,’ he might say.

But this… Optimus muses, gazing skyward as he trundles down the highway in vehicle mode, letting the crisp, night air slide through his grill and cool his powerful engine… This is the appeal of a solo patrol.

Every now and then, there are times when the Decepticon activity goes quiet, Fowler has nothing to report, and Optimus can almost pretend that he’s just another Cybertronian enjoying a long, quiet drive through the Mojave wilderness. And while he remains ever vigilant, keeping every sensor poised outwardly in a constant surveillance of his surroundings, the old bot still permits at least one sense to wander.

Somehow, it’s always his sight.

Oftentimes he catches himself doing it. Other times, on nights that are quiet and still and clear like this one, there’s a wire-deep longing that overrides his logic gates, and the Prime won’t notice that he isn’t keeping his processor and his optics on the dusty road ahead of him. He’s too busy stealing long, pensive looks at the stars above him, scattered like a-hundred-billion souls sprawling across a curtain of crushed velvet.

It’s out there… somewhere… riding a lonely orbit on the furthest reaches of the galaxy’s Centaurus arm.

Cybertron.

Home.

Their first home, he amends gently, depressing his accelerator to speed up when he realises he’s starting to crawl. Earth is as much their home now as Cybertron ever was.

Sagging on his suspension with a low hiss, Optimus drags his hidden optics back to the road ahead, and all at once, he nearly lurches to a halt, his exhaust pipes sputtering out a hollow sound to betray his surprise.

There, parked several feet from the road a few hundred yards ahead of him, is a vehicle.

Prime’s senses sharpen to a startling focus.

Pumping his brakes, he slows down again, and the roar of his engine fades to a fluctuating hum.

A Decepticon…?

He doesn’t feel anything trying to breach his EM field, nor does he pick up on any resistance when his scanners hone in on the vehicle – ‘Ford. F250. A Pickup truck.’ Year….? Optimus’s focus narrows to a pinprick… ‘Eighty-seven.’

It’s red - a faded, dusky red like some of the sun-baked sandstone at Red Rock Canyon. As Prime’s massive form rumbles on through the night, looming closer and closer to the mysterious truck, his lights reflect off something situated above its rear bumper, the presence of which quells his flaring codes and eases his rigid frame.

A number plate.

Thick, black numbers and letters stand out against the white rectangle, though it isn’t the sequence that alleviates Optimus’s suspicion, it’s their mere presence.

No Decepticon he knows would ever suffer the ‘indignity’ of having a human number plate stapled to their bumpers.

Primus, even the Autobots have foregone the accessory after Fowler gave up trying to keep Bumblebee from losing his, Ratchet from ‘misplacing’ his, and Bulkhead from bending his irreparably whenever he transformed. Optimus had given it a go, for a time… mainly because he was growing worried that their overworked liaison would quite simply combust if he had to intercept one more phone call from ‘concerned civilians’ who were reporting a semi-truck driving through Jasper without its registration.

The Prime’s number plate came to its own crumpled end when he sat down on his berth one evening without removing it first.

One genuine, slightly sheepish apology to a very fed-up liaison later, and Optimus was informed that he and his team no longer needed to wear the plates.

So, the presence of one on this truck is a good sign. It’s less likely to transform and cause an incident.

That does, however, open up an entirely new avenue for concern to creep in.

A crash, perhaps?

Several dark skid marks indicate that it must have veered off the road after a hard, panicked brake.

He can’t pick up any biological signatures either. Even when he casts a wider net, all his sensors catch are the heat signatures of a few tiny, Earthen mammals scurrying about over the sand before they dart into various rock formations when he rolls by. But just because he isn’t picking up the presence of a living human, it doesn’t negate the possibility of a human being inside…

Frame suddenly taut, Optimus trundles to a cautious halt on the road alongside the truck, his engine idling like some great, murmuring beast in the quiet of the desert.

A throaty hum seems to escape his smokestacks as he peers down at the smaller truck, contemplative… considering… Then finally, relieved. There doesn’t appear to be anyone inside, judging by what his headlights illuminate through the cab windows.

What is it doing out here?

It definitely wasn’t here yesterday when he made the drive into Jasper. It isn’t a vehicle he recognises either, and he’s been doubly vigilant of late regarding all the civilian cars, bikes, trucks, vans, and even agricultural vehicles in and around the town.

Privately, he’s been compiling a catalogue of them all, for his own reference.

If there’s a threat to his human charges lurking about in their hometown, Optimus needs to know about it. A Decepticon disguised as a civilian vehicle would be an effective method of infiltration.

Casting one more, cursory ping out into the night to check that he’s definitely alone, he at last begins to unfurl himself into his bipedal mode. Metal plating slides away from his grill, pulling back and rolling along the body of the semi as he rises onto newly revealed pedes. The mechanical whines, whirrs and buzzes are terribly loud and alien amongst the desert’s natural ambiance, but soon enough, the air falls still once again, and a monolithic Cybertronian stands in the place where a Peterbilt used to be.

Soft, cerulean light spills over the abandoned truck as Optimus settles his optics upon it, easing his enormous frame down into a crouch and draping one arm across his knee with a ‘clunk.’

At first glance, he hadn’t noticed anything especially odd about the truck save for its unexpected presence. Leaning sideways, he casts an optic over the front bumper and finds nothing out of place, no damage to indicate a crash, no broken headlights or crushed bonnet.

It’s the same story with the truck’s bed. Only when Optimus hauls himself upright and treads carefully around it to inspect the other side does he notices the glaring problem.

The whole vehicle is canting onto its offside front tyre, a tyre that sports a rather sizeable puncture, considering how flat it is. And from the looks of it, this one was only ever meant to be used as a temporary spare. A quick glance into the truck’s bed reveals what he assumes must be the original tyre, flat as well, with the silver head of a nail jutting from the centre tread block.

Optimus clicks his glossa softly for the owner’s run of bad luck.

Right away, he sends a ping to his team, advising them to be wary of stray nails along this stretch…

He receives several pings in return. Immediately comes Bumblebee’s frustration, buzzed over the airwaves like a sulking sparkling who’s been told his toy was broken. Given the Scout’s inclination to race at top speed all over these roads, Optimus doesn’t doubt he’s just vexed at the shuddersome notion of having to slow down.

Arcee and Bulkhead respond in kind as their leader absently moves his attention to something strange obscuring part of driver’s window, letting their concern wash over his field.

‘Popped a tyre, Boss?’ Bulkhead’s message hits his comm, informal and probing, but with the warmth of care behind it.

Optimus is quick to send a pulse of reassurance back through their shared channel. He’s fine. If one little nail was all it took to take a Prime out of commission, they’d all be in serious, serious trouble.

The channels go quiet after Arcee and Ratchet send their short, concise responses, and once again, Optimus is alone on the road, peering down at a small sheet of paper that’s been taped to the inside of the truck’s front window.

Gradually, he furrows his optical ridges until they almost click together into one, solid line, the apertures inside each optic whirring and shrinking as he reads the words scribbled on the paper.

He recalls the first time he encountered the languages of Earth as they were written. The looping letters, graceful and elegant, chasing one another across the front of the letter Agent Fowler gave him as part of an unofficial welcome to the United States.

Optimus had held the paper so delicately between two of his digits, blinking down at the dark ink soaked into repurposed cellulose fibre. It was beautiful.

When he remarked as such, Fowler made a noncommittal comment that you could tell a lot about humans from their handwriting.

Optimus would sometimes find himself glancing over the children’s homework when they left their books out unattended on the table in their recreational area.

Jack’s neat and sensible cursive. Miko’s chaotic, glittery script that rose and fell and ventured outside the lines because she was usually paying more attention to her music than the words she wrote in her textbook. And Rafael, of course, with his quick, almost frantic stokes of the pen as he tried to scribble his thoughts down as fast as his brain could make them, only to end up losing his confidence halfway through a sentence, doubled back, drew a single line through the words, and started again on a fresh page.

This handwriting though… written in blue, splotchy ink and stuck with a piece of scotch tape to the truck’s window, makes Fowler’s words ring true in Optimus’s processor.

He can tell a lot about the human who wrote it.

‘Please don’t steal/break into my truck,’ it reads. The word ‘please’ has been underlined several times. ‘Not worth much, it’s all I’ve got. Tyre is flat, spare tyre too, so can’t get far anyway. Walking to town to find help bcos phone died and I don’t have a charger. Be back soon. Thanks.’

The ink has run in several places and rendered some of the letters illegible, as if water has been dropped on them from above.

Optimus isn’t naïve. He’s seen the children cry, more times than he can bear.

Then underneath all that, in much smaller writing stuffed underneath the first message like an afterthought they forgot to leave enough space for…

‘P.s, if the truck is still here in 3 days, assume I’m dead.’

With a sudden groan of his metal frame, Optimus braces a servo on his knee and hurriedly pushes himself to his pedes once again, helm swivelling sideways to stare down the length of the road.

The truck’s nose is pointed in the direction of Jasper, but the town itself is still about a fifteen-mile drive…

Surely they wouldn’t make the journey on foot…

But if the note is any indication, then…

His processor flashes again to the children; Miko in particular, and the alarming disregard she has for her own safety. The boys are guilty of that as well, though to a lesser degree.

Suddenly, there’s a very high likelihood that there might be a human wondering through the vast Mojave, alone. Worse still, Bumblebee had reported just last week that there’s been an increase in Decepticon patrols in the area around Jasper. No doubt Megatron has been ramping up his efforts to locate the Autobot base. Their growing presence in the vicinity of town makes these roads particularly treacherous…

Optimus ex-vents roughly, more troubled than frustrated.

Blue optics narrow at the road ahead, and once again, the peace of the desert night is filled by the sounds of living metal collapsing back in on itself.

A powerful engine roars to life. Somewhere nearby, a startled jackrabbit darts beneath the safety of a sagebrush, hiding herself amongst its silvery leaves.

Unblinking, her wild eyes stare after the great, thrumming beast as it moves on down the road.

—————-

You’ve had a lot of ideas in your life.

Some good. Some bad. Some that have paid off, but most that have gone nowhere at all.

Perhaps you were growing tired of going nowhere…

What else would have possessed you to up and move all the way to the middle of Nevada state on the back of a job offer that came from a man your uncle purported to know?

‘Oh yeah, Terry? Did a job with him a few years back for some cattle baron out in the sticks. ‘Course, Terry always wanted his own dairy… Want me to tell him you’re lookin’ for work?’

Turns out, Terry did end up getting that dairy he always wanted. And as it happened, he was looking for a farm hand.

Does it count as nepotism if you’re fairly sure your uncle had only met your future employer once?

Beyond a certain point, you simply couldn’t care less.

A job is a job, even if it is out here in the desert near a town you’d never heard of a month ago.

Dust-caked trainers trudge to a weary halt in front of a large, green road sign.

The moon, thankfully, hangs fat and luminous in the cloudless sky. So at least you don’t need a torch to see, not now that your eyes have had time to adjust the darkness cloaked over the desert.

With your run of bad luck, you half assumed the heavens would have opened by now and given the Mojave a nice, little dose of rain.

“Well,” you mutter aloud to yourself, peering up at the green sign with a grimace, “Could be worse…”

‘Jasper – 10 miles,’ reads like a slap to the face.

Still… It’s better than the fifteen miles.

You must have walked at least five already, dragging your legs behind you like extra baggage that doesn’t want to cooperate.

It has to be beyond midnight now. Well beyond, you suppose.

You’ve been walking for the better part of two hours, slow and sluggish and exhausted. The journey getting to Nevada had been tiring enough, then as soon as you crossed state lines, your tyre caught a puncture going over a particularly nasty pothole that had snuck up on you.

After an hour spent in the blazing sun jacking up the truck and changing to the spare, you set off again for another several hours of travel. Then, twenty miles out of Jasper, just as you dared to celebrate being home-free, the unthinkable had happened.

Who hits a pothole and drives over a nail in the same, damn day? Apparently, the same person who forgot to buy a charger adaptor for the truck.

No charger? No phone.

No phone…? No calling for help…

Your chest expands and deflates with a bone-tired sigh, turning your gaze back onto the long, dark road ahead of you. Tears sting at the inside of your eyelids, and for a moment, you consider letting them fall, if only to ease some of the pressure building up behind your temples. But crying hysterically about the unfairness of the world hadn’t un-punctured your spare tyre, so why would it help the situation now.

“Come on,” you coax yourself, hauling one leg out in front of the other. Rinse. Repeat. “Not far now.”

Just a few more hours…

The going is slow, tough, draining. Even the dark shapes of rocks start to look enticing as you pass them, letting your eyes slide over to them as you wonder just how safe it would be to fall asleep in the desert by the side of a road.

Ever since you broke down a few hours ago, you haven’t seen one, single vehicle out here.

‘Which,’ you hum, pursing your lips and tipping your head back to peer up at the bleary sky far above you, ‘Isn’t so bad…’

The stars are numerous, and startlingly clear out in the wilderness. The moon as well seems brighter here, unobscured by clouds. She makes for a quiet companion on your journey towards Jasper, her starry brethren endlessly stretching out to each corner of the horizon.

Suddenly, you feel very small. A hopeless traveller trying to find port in a sea of sand and rock.

Swallowing roughly, you hike your tattered rucksack high onto your shoulder and tear your gaze from the stars.

It’s quiet out here, save for the rustle of sage bushes disturbed by the warm breeze, and the skittering of rocks as night-time animals go about their hunts.

Perhaps that natural silence is why the sudden introduction of an entirely new sound unnerves you so much.

You jerk to a halt, ears straining to hear something approaching from the distance. Underneath the thin, worn soles of your shoes, you start to feel it; the road thrumming with gentle vibrations, growing stronger every second.

Lighting quick, you whirl around to face the way you’d come, hands flying up to grip anxiously at the straps of your rucksack.

You’d have thought you’d be excited to see those headlights rise up above the horizon line. At last! A stroke of luck! A potential ride! Potential help.

Instead, it’s as though the sudden appearance of two, dazzling lights blooming into view as they crest over the hill finally jar some sense back into your dizzy head.

The haze of fatigue lifts slightly, pushed away by little bursts of adrenaline as your brain fights to wake you up to an unconscious threat.

You’re alone out here. Defenceless, phoneless. You don’t know the area. Nobody knows you’ve broken down… You try so hard to think the best of people, but now that you’ve had one doubt, a hundred others start to scurry around in your brain, demanding attention.

You can see the vehicle, or their lights at least, but you doubt they can see you yet, this far down the road. You wonder what it is. Car? Truck?

… Alien spacecraft? Despite yourself, you let out a snort at that. Isn’t that infamous military base supposed to be in Nevada? The one hiding alien activity?

Right. Sure.

Despite your scepticism however, a thrill of fear rushes down the length of your spine as if to say, ‘Oh? But are you sure sure?’

 Gulping audibly, you take a few steps sideways off the road, stealing a glance at a cluster of large rocks that sit conveniently just several yards to your rear.

You have a decision to make.

Maybe you’ve been alone on the road for too long, and isolation has bred a paranoia in you that’s so deeply rooted, you can’t shift it at a moment’s notice. If the sun was out, perhaps you’d be less apprehensive, but the night, no matter where you are, makes everything seem so much more… treacherous. It hides things. People, motivations, monsters.

And though it pains you to do so, you swiftly decide to err on the side of personal safety.

The vehicle is closer now, and your blood trembles as the roar of a loud, formidable engine thunders over the tarmac. Yet you’re still certain it isn’t close enough to have caught you in its high-beams.

On sluggish legs, you haul yourself about and make a clumsy dash for the rocks, clenching a fist around one strap of the rucksack and using your other hand to grab the closest rock and swing yourself behind it. Dropping to your backside, you flatten your spine against the cool, solid surface, eyes wide, heart beating hard against the cage of ribs keeping it from leaping up into your throat.

‘Coward,’ a voice in the back of your head scoffs, sounding suspiciously like your father. You shake it loose. Now is not the time to be bothered by old ghosts.

The thundering engine draws nearer, rumbling in your chest as it seems to creep towards your hiding spot at a pace even a glacier would be impressed by.

Around the corner of the rock, you can finally see the glow of its headlights smoothing over the tarmac, illuminating the sand and brush all around you. Hurriedly, you tuck your toes right into the shadow cast by your rock, keeping a breath held hostage behind clenched teeth.

“Come on… Come on,” you urge it frustratedly, aware that every second you spend not moving is another second towards sunrise. If you’re not on the dairy ready for work by then…

The vehicle rolls to a stop.

It stops.

The temptation to let out a frustrated scream is only held in check by your tongue getting stuck to the roof of bone-dry mouth.

They saw you. They must have seen you. There’s no way they could have known you were here otherwise.

Idiot!

Wasting time on the decision has only taken it right out of your hands in the end.

A bead of sweat escapes your hairline and rolls down the side of your face, following the curve of your cheek. Should you run? Keep hiding? Did they stop by coincidence? If they meant no harm, they’d have seen you hide and kept on driving, wouldn’t they? Stopping is suspicious. It conveys a desire to engage.

And then something really strange happens.

“Excuse me?”

And… Well, you’re… not entirely proud of the choked gasp that jumps out of you, nor the way you flinch as if you’d been struck.

When did they – He? It’s a low voice, deeper than anything you’ve heard in a long while, full of bass but soft like distant brontide.

When did he get out of the vehicle? You didn’t hear a door open, nor close.

You nearly jump out of your skin when he speaks again.

“I’ve frightened you…” Despite how gentle the timbre is, his voice is loud, like he’s speaking all around you, not just behind you. “I apologise,” the stranger continues, “That is the last thing I meant to do.”

What the Hell is he talking about?

There’s a long, unpleasant stretch of time until he speaks again.

“Was that your… Ford?” he asks, like he’s testing the word on his tongue, “Up the road?”

Shit. You’re starting to regret leaving that note. He must have read it and knew someone would be walking into town, alone and vulnerable.

The engine of his vehicle is still idling, strong and steady, buzzing through the ground and up through your feet.

It goes against your nature to ignore someone when they’re talking to you, but there’s still a part of you clinging to the hope that he’ll just give up and move on if you don’t respond or show yourself. Perhaps he’ll think you were just a figment of an overtired imagination…

Of course, instead, he persists. “Please.”

Jesus, he almost squeezes the word out, oozing dejection.

“You have nothing to fear from me… I’m a friend.”

A friend indeed. You huff quietly to yourself. You don’t even know him. He doesn’t know you. He’s trying to coax you out of hiding after watching you flee from his vehicle. Hardly the foundation for a good friendship. Still, you have to wonder why he doesn’t just come around the rock to stand over you if he’s so keen.

After another few seconds of stubborn silence on your part, the voice speaks again.

“Will you at least step back from the rock?”

What?

“There are scorpions on it, and I fear you’ll get-“

You don’t think you’ve moved so fast in quite some time. One moment you’re pressing yourself to the rock, and the next, you’re scrabbling to your feet with gusto, lurching away from your prior hiding space and spinning around, skin already crawling.

Sure enough, a pair of giant scorpions are scuttling around on the flat top, their tails held aloft, proud and large in the moonlight.

“-Hurt,” the stranger finishes.

Snatching your head up, you find yourself staring right into the vehicle’s headlights, and you instantly grunt with discomfort, raising a hand to shield your eyes from the light.

“Oh.” There’s a pause, the vehicle’s engine skips, and the lights suddenly dim, plunging you into almost darkness save for the dim glow of residual light. “Forgive me. Is that better?”

“Much. Thanks,” you respond automatically, only to turn rigid once you realise you’ve spoken aloud.

Well. He’s already seen you. No point pretending you can’t talk either…

Again, the stranger’s vehicle makes an odd noise, it’s engine hums gently, and as you lower your arm to seek out the man you’ve just opened a line of conversation with, you finally see what you’d been hiding from.

A monstrous Peterbilt sits squarely across the width of the road, entirely alien in the barren, natural landscape. Smokestacks on either side of its cab reach towards the sky, glinting silver in the moonlight. It looks red under the meagre glow, with lighter panelling on the main body and dark, blue accents on the wheel trims and storage compartment. The grill is, in a word, massive, standing taller than you are, sporting a logo you don’t recognise on the front.

All in all, it’s a hell of a truck. Powerful, you imagine. Expensive too.

You try not to let your mouth hang ajar.

“Where-” Your voice cracks, still dry. “Ahem…! Where are you?”

Glancing around, your hackles start to rise. You can’t see the speaker anywhere. Which is why you let out an embarrassingly shrill yelp when his voice rumbles directly from the semi.

“I’m right here,” he assures you, polite enough not to show his amusement whilst you flap your mouth open and closed.

No, you shake your head. No, that is too weird. “What, are there like… speakers on the outside of your truck or something?”

There’s the tiniest of pauses, followed by a simple, concise, “There are.”

Oh. Well, then. That answers that burning question.

“Okay? So, um… Can I… help you?” you ask awkwardly, screwing one side of your face up.

The man seems to hesitate, allowing a pregnant pause to hang in the air between you before he replies, “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

Somehow, your expression twists even further south, and you begin casting your eyes over the semi, squinting through its dark windshield to try and catch a glimpse of what’s on the other side.

“I saw your truck on the side of the road,” the unseen man continues, “I feared you might have been hurt in a crash, so, I stopped to check you weren’t still inside the vehicle. Then I found your note.”

He falls silent, and the air is dominated once again by the purring of his semi’s engine.

“Okay?” you prompt, still unsure of his motivations.

“It said you need help.”

He trails off, waiting. You’re promptly struck by the idea that he’s trying to guide you to some conclusion he hasn’t yet revealed. Finally, just as you start to grow restless, he forges ahead, “These roads can be hazardous for a lone hu-“

Suddenly, the truck’s engine revs, drowning out his voice for a second and sending you leaping backwards, startled.

“- A lone traveller…” he clears his throat just after the roar of its exhaust cuts out. Then, “Ah, If I may be so bold...”

All of a sudden, the passenger side door unlatches and swings open, and you’re presented with a clear invitation into the darkened cab. “May I offer you a ride into town?”

You wonder if he can see you turn stiff at his suggestion. Your body all but pleads on hands and knees for you to accept. What’s the worst that could happen, after all?

Well. You’ve watched several documentaries and movies that give you a pretty good indication of what ‘the Worst’ entails, thank you very much. You don’t like that he’s inviting you into his truck without showing his face to you yet. You’d like to gauge the person you’re speaking to. Get a bead on him. Is he big? Strong? Tall? Could you overpower him if it came down to it? Does he look like he’s hiding a weapon on him?

All these questions only serve to dry the moisture in your throat.

“I… That’s… very kind of you,” you admit, wringing your hands together as you take a small step away from the semi, “But I’m sure it’ll be okay, it isn’t that far.”

“At an average speed of three miles per hour, you will reach the outskirts of town in just under three and a half hours.”

You blink, caught off guard. ‘And they said we’d never need to use equations after we graduated.’

“Maths guy, huh?” you cock a hip, laying a hand across it and shooting the truck’s windshield a tentative smile, “Maybe I walk at four miles an hour.”

“Two and a half then,” he quips back just as smoothly, the door to his semi still hanging open. When he continues, you can’t help but notice that the cadence of his baritone voice rumbling through the speakers has turned to something a little more sombre, quieter, like he’s trying to impress upon you the gravity of a situation you don’t yet know about. “But time and distance aside, I do not wish to leave you to walk into Jasper by yourself, particularly at this time of night.”

He speaks like he’s been to elocution lessons. Every word seems to be carefully selected, every vowel and consonant articulate and refined.

It’s disarming. He’s disarming. But you’re still not convinced.

“Listen… Thank you, again. But…” It feels rude, like you’re committing some kind of faux pas in turning your back on the semi, yet you can’t shake the nagging voice at the back of your head, telling you that there’s something not quite right about the man in the truck. Not bad, just… off.

“It’s a kind offer,” you tell him again lamely, turning on your heel. And so, you recommence your weary march for Jasper, tossing one last sentiment over your shoulder, “But I’m sure I can make it on my own. Take care, okay?”

You almost expect him to argue, but all you can hear is the now familiar drone of the semi’s almighty engine. For several paces, you can feel a pair of eyes watching you, scrutinising and pensive, if a little baffled by your short yet polite dismissal.

When you make it another ten feet, heaving your tired legs after you over the tarmac, your ears perk up to the sound of an engine revving.

Smokestacks chugging, the massive truck pulls out of its standstill, unseen behind you.

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you keep your gaze fixed to the ground ahead and raise a hand, flapping it about in an apologetic farewell as you meander further off the road and onto the sand, giving him plenty of space to get past.

You start to frown when you make it twenty paces without being overtaken by the truck.

That frown only grows deeper when the engine keeps churring away behind you, rubber tyres crunching tiny particles of sand under their treads as it crawls along in your wake.

Is he…?

Tearing your eyes off the toes of your shoes, you send a fleeting glance over your shoulder, surprised – but not much – to find the nose of the Peterbilt creeping slowly along in your peripheral vision, keeping pace with you.

Your frown eases back, and you quirk a brow at him instead, calmly asking, “What are you doing?”

And just as easily, the voice returns, “If you will not allow me to drive you, I will happily escort you to your destination.”

You can’t help yourself.

“Ha! ‘Escort.’” The snicker jumps out of you faster than you can raise your hands to press your fingertips against an unbidden grin. “Sorry,” you immediately try to amend, “You just sounded so serious.”

“… I… am serious?”

Letting your hand flop back to your side, you give your head a shake, still grinning. You really do meet all sorts on the road.

“Regardless, I’m sure you have far better things to be doing with your time.”

How the truck matches your walking speed without his engine faltering or sputtering, you’ll never know.

A strange noise gurgles from its exhaust, almost perfectly reminiscent of a troubled hum.

“On the contrary,” the driver responds, pulling forwards a little until only the grill overtakes you, and for a moment, you worry he’s about to drive across your path, “There is nothing at the moment that concerns me more than getting you safely where you need to go.”

Huh. Of all the genuine, stubborn…

“Look.” Your shoes scuff up a cloud of sand as you draw to an abrupt and decisive halt, turning bodily towards the truck. Hands splayed on your hips, you glare at the windscreen, aiming approximately for the driver. A second later, he must have hit the brakes because the semi lurches to a stop as well, hissing noisily.

Still, he doesn’t step out.

“You seem like a nice guy,” you start, trying to keep your chin raised and your tone stern. You fail, of course. Your voice cracks nervously, but at least you try. Taking a deep, steadying breath, you finally elect to stop beating around the bush and just address the elephant in the room – or desert, as it were.

“But I don’t make it a habit to get into random trucks with strangers.” You make it a point not to directly accuse him of having ulterior motives, but you hope you’ve at least driven home your main concern. At best, he’ll grow offended that you’d think him capable of such a thing and – hopefully – move on. At worst… Well. You brace yourself for that, teeth grit so tightly, your jaw starts to ache as you flick your eyes over towards the truck’s driver-side door, waiting.

The truck in question does something odd then. It… sinks? At least you think it does, lowering on its axles by a few inches like the wheels have just deflated. It’s difficult to tell in the dim moonlight though, and it’s over so quickly, you can’t be sure you saw anything at all that wasn’t just a trick of the desert.

How long have you been awake?

You’re busy calculating the hours you were driving when the stranger’s voice is kicked out over the speakers again.

“You assume I mean you harm…” he utters.

And just like that, the stern, rigid scowl is instantly wiped off your face.

He sounds…

…sad.

Not offended. Not angered by your thinly-veiled implication.

Just sad. Dispirited, even. As if it’s only just occurred to him that you might have perceived him as a threat.

It’s almost painful when the pair of you dissolve into an uncomfortable silence that lasts for several beats of your rapid-fire heart.

Biting down on the inside of your cheek, your brows drift apart whilst you try to think of something to say. Trouble is, you’re afraid that speaking again will only make things worse.

You have no idea what’s going through his head. What if his dejected tone is followed by something worse?

“I’m sorry,” you backtrack, pressing your lips together and chiding yourself for faltering, “It’s nothing personal, just… I-I should probably get going before I fall asleep standing up.” You give a stilted laugh, but it soon turns into an awkward sound made at the back of your throat, lips pulled over your teeth in a grimace.

Dipping your head, you swallow thickly and grip the straps of your rucksack again. But just as you make to turn away, the semi’s wheels abruptly twist towards you. It’s ever so slight, just enough that the truck rolls a few paces in your direction before it stops again, its grill pointed straight at you.

With an audible gulp, you go to take another step back, staring at the metal in anticipation. Your retreat is soon halted by the mellow rumble of his voice.

“I understand your hesitation. And I know that the word of a stranger may not hold much weight,” he begins slowly. The Peterbilt inches forwards again. “But I can assure you, you have nothing to fear from me…”

Shifting on your feet, you let go of your bag and clutch instead at your elbows, brows tipped up indecisively. He’s persistent, you’ll give him that. He also speaks with a candour you’ve never encountered outside of a film or a storybook. Frank and forthright in a way you’ve never been privy to. Is that why you’re hesitating? Is that why he seems ‘off?’ Because his level of sincerity doesn’t have a place in your world?

Perhaps you’ve been spending so much time by yourself, it’s turned you distrustful. Maybe you’re just getting cynical. Looking back on your journey here, you realise that only other person who you’ve spoken to was a disinterested server who took your order at a drive-thru… That was four days ago. How long before that did you listen to someone who wasn’t the people on your truck’s radio?

Why is it so suspicious that this trucker wants to help? Hell, you’d be concerned as well if you saw some poor bastard hiking alone through the desert at night without a friend in the world.

Christ, you need some perspective.

The driver must see the conflict painted like a brand across your expression.

“Would it reassure you to know that this vehicle is operated entirely remotely?” he pipes up.

You blink once. Then again to wake yourself up a little more, pulled from your inner turmoil. “What?”

“This vehicle,” he tells you, “It is an unmanned vehicle.”

Curiosity overtakes suspicion faster than you can uncross your arms and stare at the grill dumbly, face opening up in surprise. “Wait. You mean it’s one of those self-driving things?”

“In a sense.” The semi’s engine rumbles softly, and the not-driver adds, “I am what you might call… the safety driver.”

Now that is curious.

You don’t even realise you’ve taken a step closer. “Really? But I thought that sort of tech was still in testing?”

“It is,” he replies, “We are, however, attempting to advance to field-tests, to see if these vehicles can autonomously haul freight in areas with sparser populations, to minimise the risk of collision.”

“Hence why you’re driving it out here in the middle of the night,” you realise aloud, raising an inquisitive brow at the windscreen, “So you’re really not in there? You’re driving it from somewhere else?”

“Would you care to see for yourself?” he asks kindly.

Your wide eyes flit to the passenger door when it eases open once again, though this time, it seems far less foreboding than before.

Tugging a loose piece of skin between your teeth, you give the silver steps leading to the door a scrutinising glance.

That does reassure you…

Slowly, still at least a little wary, you coax your legs to move, and they begrudgingly carry you onto the road. You approach the semi-truck with all the caution of a doe crossing an open meadow.

As you venture closer, its engine kicks up a notch, emitting a steady, gentle purr as if the vehicle itself is pleased with your acquiescence.

Suddenly, as you move along to the open door, you’re dazzled by a light flickering on inside the cab, bathing what you can see from this angle in a calm, golden hue.

From down here, it looks… just like an ordinary interior.

And lo and behold, as you stand on your tiptoes to see in, you find the driver’s seat is eerily devoid of its occupant.

You let out a breath that emerges shakier than you would have liked it to.

“Wow,” you laugh, impressed.

Maybe just a quick peek…

A vast chunk of apprehension breaks away from your chest and vanishes into the ether as you shuffle towards the steps, raising an arm and stretching your fingers across the space to the grab handle that sits invitingly just beside the open door.

This side of the truck is bathed in silver moonlight, and it’s only now that you’re this close that you happen to notice something you hadn’t before.

You almost wince when you spot them.

Although shiny and speckled with only the lightest dusting of desert sand, the metal panelling on the semi is covered in signs of wear and tear.

Enough to give you pause, at least.

For a moment, you’re taken aback, turning bodily away from the open door and cocking your head at the myriad of scratches that criss-cross their way up towards the semi’s roof.

All the paint in the world couldn’t hide some of those shallow nicks and lines that have been scraped out of the metal. In any case, something big must have scuffed it. Perhaps another driver in their own Peterbilt? Or perhaps it’s all damage sustained in testing the vehicle’s automated capabilities.

Clicking your tongue, you absently raise a hand to stroke your fingertips gingerly along the length of a particularly prominent scratch by the door.

“Oh dear,” you tut softly at the side of the truck, “You’ve been in the wars, haven’t you?”

Without warning, the engine that had been buzzing so gently suddenly ramps up and starts to vibrate firmly beneath your fingers, so strong you can even feel it judder the ground through the soles of your feet.

Recoiling like you’ve been zapped, you whip your head around to peer through the open door, half expecting the driver to admonish you for touching his vehicle.

As swiftly as it started however, the thrumming engine dies down, and the truck returns to its soft, benign idling. “My apologies,” comes that gentle voice again through the speakers, “Just an overactive combustion chamber.”

“Is it... safe to ride in?” you retort, giving the back of the truck a sidelong glance.

“You will find very few vehicles safer than this one,” he tells you patiently, “I will not allow any harm to befall you, as I would not allow it to befall any of my passengers.”

Your shoulders jump with a silent laugh. “Befall,” you parrot, fighting a smile, “I love the way you talk.”

“… You do?” His speakers buzz with a pleasant hum.

Fingers flexing anxiously, you reach out once again and slide them around the grab handle beside the door, finding that it’s unexpectedly warm under your palm.

“So, I just… get in?” you ask, only to cringe immediately, realising you probably sound like a fool who’s forgotten how to get into a truck.

Before you can rebuke yourself harshly though, the absent stranger offers his response. “Do you require assistance?”

“No, no,” you rush out, placing one foot on the first, silver step and hoisting yourself up off the ground, bringing yourself level with the cab’s seats.

Your eyes grow wide with wonder as you take in the interior.

“Oh, wow,” you breathe, suddenly hesitant to pull yourself up those last few feet.

“Is there something wrong?”

“It’s just… It’s so clean!”

Laid out before you is a perfectly ordinary truck cabin. Soft, grey leather covers the seats, with the same dark colouration on the roof, doors and most of the glovebox, interspersed by a rich, black steering wheel. The soft light, you discover, is emitted by multiple strips of blue neon LEDs that the driver must have fitted underneath the radio dials and dashboard, casting the truck’s interior in a cool, soothing glow.

But most astonishingly, for as much as you search, you can’t spot a single thing out of place. It’s absolutely immaculate. There isn’t one receipt stuffed in the door pockets, no traces of sand or gravel dirtying the footwells, no loose change tossed into the centre console…

Dumbfounded, you glance into the back, but all you find it a dark, grey panel and a shelf set back into the semi’s rear wall, meant for use as a bed, you surmise. It’s empty, unsurprisingly. Not a blanket or a pillow in sight.

Finally, your suspicions are put to rest. This truck doesn’t look lived in at all. He really is operating it remotely.

“God, it looks brand new in here,” you marvel aloud, suddenly hyper-conscious of the abysmal state of your old pickup. The scratches on this semi’s exterior play briefly on your mind but you brush your musings aside, too fatigued to consider the contradictions of a worn exterior but an immaculate interior.

Instead, you feel a frown crease the skin between your brows.

It really is immaculate in here…

Glancing down, you scowl disdainfully at your filthy shoes, the tank-top that’s stained irreparably by dropped food and greasy finger-smears, and trousers that are tattered and worn at their hems.

“Is everything all right?” the ‘driver’ asks again. His voice must emerge from the speakers on each door, low and warm, filling up the cabin.

“My shoes are dirty,” you admit out loud, your grip on the handle turning slack until you sink a few inches back to the first step, “I’m dirty. I-I don’t want to get sand and crap all over your truck.”

“I don’t mind.”

Spoken with more consideration than you’ve heard in a long, long time.

You pause at once, brows tipping up in the centre of your forehead.

A deep inhale through your nose brings with it the unobtrusive scent of leather, with the faintest undertone of adhesive sealers, giving the interior that ‘new truck smell’ that so many drivers try to replicate artificially.

Comparatively, it’s been several days since you passed a rest stop that had showering facilities. Those that did asked for a hefty charge. You’d glanced down at the handful of coppers in your centre console and decided you could go without. Now, you’re starting to regret that decision. Every now and then, whenever you raised your arms to stretch or flip the visor down in your pickup, you’d catch an unpleasant whiff of yourself wafting out from under your light, cotton shirt.

Embarrassed as you are to confess that you’ve been severely neglecting your personal hygiene, you swallow past a lump in your throat and croak, “I… haven’t exactly washed for a couple of days… I wouldn’t want to make your truck smell…”

And in a tone so kind it threatens to brings a tear to your eye, the stranger answers consolingly, “I think your scent is perfectly fine.”

It’s so damnably genuine, you can’t even find it in yourself to point out that he isn’t here to smell you, so his point is moot.

“I…” One more cop-out strikes you. “I don’t have any money,” you murmur truthfully, ashamed, “I can’t pay you for the fuel, or-“

“-I ask for nothing in return but your company,” is all he says, cutting you off as gently as his profound voice will allow.

And just like that, you’re out of viable excuses. Or perhaps your body has noticed the comfortable seats right in front of it and you don’t have enough fight left in you to deny it a sit down. Besides, any reasons you come up with to dip are likely to be met with a counterpoint.

Even so, you can’t help but hesitate for one more question, hand clasping and unclasping around the grab handle. “Are you sure it’s okay? I’m not going to get you in trouble or anything am I?”

The next sound that hums through his speakers is so soft and rich, you think it’s the truck’s engine playing up again, at least until the stranger cuts the noise off by saying, “You do not look like trouble to me.”

If he only knew.

The sound prior, you realise, was a chuckle, the first one you’ve heard out of him yet. Something in the measure of it settles the last of your nerves, only slightly, just long enough to have you throwing caution to the wind. With a final heave, you pull yourself the rest of the way inside, sliding gingerly into the comfortable passenger seat. You never notice how the metal below your foot shifts microscopically, lifting you closer to the cab.

It takes a lot of restraint not to let your eyes drift closed, nor to slump backwards into the wondrously giving material on your spine.

Instead, you sit stiffly with your rucksack keeping you upright, legs pressed together, hands folded neatly in your lap. If you make any kind of mess in here, you’ll be mortified.

After a moment, you remember to close the door, but just as you turn and peel a hand off your thigh, you jolt, staring agog at the door as it swings slowly shut with a dull ‘click.’ All of its own accord.

“Full remote access,” the voice pipes up as the engine below you roars to life, and then you’re moving, and all you can do is stare through the window at the desert drifting by whilst trying to ignore the uninvited ache in your chest.

“Seatbelt.”

His gentle prompt spurs you to reach over and grab the fabric near your shoulder, tugging it across your body and fumbling a little to slot it into place. Suddenly, you feel an invisible pull on the belt, and the metal buckle finds its way into the socket on your next pass.

‘Must be magnetic,’ you muse distractedly.

“Are you comfortable?”

Blinking back the moisture in your eyes, you turn to glance at the empty driver’s seat. It’s bizarre, and more than a little unsettling to see the steering wheel turn itself around as the truck pulls back onto the road, driven by unseen hands.

When you don’t immediately respond to his query, the man continues just as patiently as before. “If it is too cold, I can turn up the heater. Or… perhaps you are too warm…” He hums to himself, thoughtful. “You have been exerting yourself.”

You instantly become aware of the light sheen of sweat that hasn’t quite dried on your forehead. Puckering your face up into a solemn smile, you shake your head and at last respond. “Not to worry. It’s very comfortable in here.”

What follows is a poignant moment of hesitation before the voice speaks again. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but… You do not seem comfortable…”

The open-ended statement fades into silence, and you’re left casting nervous glances around the cabin again. “How do you-?” you start, tugging your shirt further down your arms, “Can you see me? Like… in here?”

Again, there’s a pause, barely longer than a second, yet long enough for you to notice it.

“Cameras,” comes his measured response, “Both external and internal. They’re how I spotted you on the road.”

“Oh, I hadn’t even considered that… Of course.”

Suddenly self-conscious, you reach up and begin to paw uselessly at your dishevelled hair, humming though a thin-lipped smile. “I must look a sight,” you half joke.

“You look tired…” he replies diplomatically, and there’s nothing in it for you to be offended by.

Rubbing a thumb over the wrinkle slowly carving a home between your brows, you heave a dreary sigh. “It’s been a long journey.”

“I can only imagine… And… Where does it culminate, if I may?”

“Terry’s Dairy?” you offer, “Uh, it’s this little farm just on the outskirts of Jasper.”

The truck beneath you gives a reverberating thrum. “I know the pastures, but I’m afraid you will find they lay beyond the ‘outskirts’ of the city.”

Letting out a groan, you knock your head back against the seat behind you, staring bleakly up at the ceiling. “Of course… How far?”

“Only a few miles, to the East of Jasper. We’re coming in from the Northwest highway. I can get you there in twenty-five minutes.”

“Twenty- Oh, no, no. You really don’t have to do that,” you protest, shifting in the seat to frown at the empty driver’s seat in lieu of anywhere else to look, “Just drop me off in town and I’ll walk the rest. You’re already going out of your way for a stranger.”

“I am dropping you off at your destination and not a mile before,” he tells you steadily.

His uncompromising tone brooks no argument.

You stare at the spot a person should be for several, long moments, debating how much you could push an argument. He’s already coaxed you into his truck, his powers of persuasion are rather good. What chance do you have, sleep-deprived as you are?

Conceding sullenly, yet appreciatively, you let your back touch the seat, settling into it a little less hesitantly. “You won’t be taking no for an answer, I assume?”

He only lapses into a stubborn silence, an answer in and of itself.

That quiet is broken, however, when you suddenly let out all the air from your lungs, a smile growing across the width of your face as the breath escapes your nostrils in a sigh. “Thank you for this… Really. You’re saving me a lot of grief.”

The blue neons on his dashboard seem to flare a bit brighter for all of a second before they dim again. “I am glad to be of service,” he replies warmly.

“Oh my god,” you blurt without warning, leaning forwards in the seat and staring through the windscreen with wide eyes, “I’m so sorry, you’re being so nice and I’m so rude – I never asked your name.”

“Nor did I yours,” he points out, “You may call me Op-“

Suddenly, a burst of static buzzes through the radio. You shoot it a funny look.

“Optimus,” the stranger admits over the static with a hesitance you pick up on right away, drawing your gaze from the dash, “My name is Optimus.”

“Optimus?” you repeat incredulously, a small smile quirking at the edges of your mouth, “Wow… You must have had creative parents.”

“I appreciate that it might seem… an unusual name…”

“It is,” you agree pleasantly, “I like it. Makes you sound cool. Unique. My parents just stuck me with Y/n.”

At once, Optimus echoes your name, and you’re jarred by the sound of it coming from someone else’s lips, reverberating around the truck. It’s been a while since anyone used it.

“Y/n,” he says again in his velvety timbre, “It’s a fine name. I like yours too.”

no one asked but restaurant reader has celiacs and bakugo goes WAY out of his way to make sure she has something to eat

submissive in the way a livestock guardian dog is submissive to the sheep it kills wolves for

fluffy ashitaka (princess mononoke) headcanons? 👉👈

Soft HCs (Ashitaka)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗶 𝗴𝗼𝘁 𝗮 𝗛𝗨𝗚𝗘 𝗰𝗿𝘂𝘀𝗵 𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝘀𝗵𝗶𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗮 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗶 𝘀𝗮𝘄 𝗵𝗶𝗺. 𝗵𝗲'𝘀 𝘀𝗼 𝗰𝘂𝘁𝗲 𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗵𝗲𝗵𝗲𝗵𝗲. 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆!

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

His favorite thing to do is to take you out “hunting” when the two of you have a slow couple of days to yourselves (At least he says you’re both hunting as he helps you mount Yakul and climbs on behind you)

But you know he’s just about to spend the entire trip holding you as he gives you archery lessons and shows off beautiful new parts of the forest he found

Speaking of which, he’s very physical with you

He’s the type to grab your hand or wrap an arm around your waist to guide you somewhere

And of course, he’s more than generous with the kisses! Especially on the cheek <3

Naturally, at the end of the day, he’s more than happy to lay with you by the fire and cuddle

In moments like those, the two of you talk about absolutely everything

From spirits and stars and stories to fears and hopes and dreams

Of course, he hates when these little trips with you have to end and you both have to go about your daily lives and the hustle and bustle of being around others

So don’t forget to give him a kiss to hold him over for all the moments he can’t be by your side! <3

Hey Love. I saw that your requests are open again so I am just popping in, with my fave boys. As you know I am a huge MezoTenya poly simp, so...

How would they react to their s/o reader ( fem or gn) getting hurt badly by a villain, when they are out alone on their way to them ?

Thanks for indulging in my sin 😊

PS. I love your work and it inspires me. Oh and take all the time you need ❤

S/o got hurt while visiting HCs (Mezo Shoji, Tenya Iida)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗱𝗱𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗯𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗱𝗮𝘆!! 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀, 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆 :)

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

THEY KNOW YOU’RE CAPABLE !!!!!!!!!!!! YOURE A HERO TOO !!! But…..

Something about seeing you walk through the door victorious but battered and bruised and bleeding just sparks something inside the two of them

Luckily, these are (mostly, looking at you Tenya smh) rational boys

So you don’t have to worry about someone sneaking away to get revenge on a villain you very much defeated and is now in police custody, wondering where it all went wrong

But you do have to worry about two little doting mother hens that are freaking out a the sight of you

Instantly, the two of them are going to be identifying every single injury on your body

Sure, you’re standing and you’re smiling, telling them not to worry but they know the truth

When your assessment is done, Mezo is gonna be quick to scoop you up in your arms and hold you in his lap while Tenya grabs the first aid kit

Don’t even bother trying to tell them you’re alright- Mezo is already on the phone with the closest nearby hero clinic to see if they can get you in pronto

At the same time, Tenya is already wrapping up the literal knife wound you didn’t immediately tell them about, scolding you for traveling alone late at night

Naturally, both of their hearts are going to melt when you shyly explained that you only did it because you wanted to see them <3

But that’s no excuse! The boys love you too much to see you hurt like this

So uhhhh, good luck going anywhere without your two bodyguards. Seriously, good luck

Even if you have a quick recovery, Mezo and Tenya aren’t letting anything happen to you ever again

So pray for all the villains in your city. They’re gonna need it if they ever end up on the receiving end of the MezoTenya fury hehe

Please Reblog This If It’s Okay To:

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A long-life journey

mushishi/蟲師

I think they would be good friends 🙆

Omg this is SO SO SO GOOD LIKE???

I absolute ABSOLUTE favorite trope is the trio best friends who can’t live without another it’s SUCH a good dynamic

Peas In a Pod

Mikage Reo x Reader x Nagi Seishiro

Synopsis — in which you confront your own feelings of hatred, jealousy, and love towards Nagi and Reo. Whether it be feeling left out or being absolutely smothered with affection—you three are inseparable, just like three peas in a pod.

Can be read as a platonic friendship or romantic relationship

Word Count: 6.1 k

"—and it summoned another hydra......" You reached for another piece of paper and wrote hydra #16. "Now it's hydra #4's turn." You turned the spin wheel for the hydra's turn for it to only land on, ".....huh, what would you know? It's another hydra—"

"That's it!" Reo slammed his hands on the table, "I swear you're doing this on purpose! There's no way that it landed on 'summon another hydra' eight times in a row!"

Nagi woke up from his short nap and glanced towards Reo. Yawning, Nagi asked, "Is it my turn or what?"

"Nagi! It's another hydra!" Reo pulled him up by the collar and shouted, "what does it mean by another hydra!" Reo turned and pointed a finger at you. "You! You're cheating! There's no way it's another darn hydra!"

"What do you mean? The wheel never lies. If it says to summon another hydra, then so be it." Nagi said as Reo let him go and collapsed in his seat. Exasperated, Reo had no more sanity to continue thinking about the game. Grabbing your notebook, you wrote down "one dead from emotional torment from a hord of seventeen hydras: two still remaining."

Putting the notebook aside, you clapped your hands together and looked at Nagi, "it's up to you and me to save the princess!"

Nagi nodded in agreement and watched as you finished completing the other thirteen hydras' turn.

You two, in fact, could not save the princess.

"Sixty-eight hydras.....How is that possible?" Nagi lied underneath the table, exhausted from staying awake for three hours straight.

"I don't knooooowwwwww." You laid underneath your chair, physically drained from sitting still for so long. You turned to face Reo, who was staring blankly up towards the ceiling. "Reo, we're sorry for laughing at you. Those hydras were serious." You covered your face with your hands and screamed, "ahhhHHHHHHHH! NAgI! Let me stay over! I don't think I'll be getting up anytime soon."

"Hmmmmm....I don't feel like setting up—"

"Let's just sleep together again! There's no way in hell that I'm sleeping on the couch after getting a taste of your bed!" You whined as you inched underneath the table and closer to Nagi. You reached for Reo's arm and pulled between you two. "—besides, rich kid Mikage is staying over this time, and I want to sleep with both of you! It's a bonding thing~" You poked Reo's cheek. You reached over to Reo and tapped Nagi's nose. "I'm sure we all fit in your bed if we all can fit under the table."

Nagi didn't say anything. Reo was still in a daze to even interject.

"So yes?"

".....Yes......."

"Oh ye—aAHhwjdha!" You coughed aggressively. You had read all the turns for sixty-eight hydras and two players for three hours: you hadn't drunk water in all that time. This would be the first sleepover in which you three actually sleep over rather than stay up late.

"Weak."

"Oh shut up Nagi—!%#%@^qhgehhakakkk!"

After changing and using the bathroom, you stood by the door as you watched Reo and Nagi get comfortable on the bed. Hugging one of Nagi's pillows, you softly spoke, "I think I'll sleep on the couch."

Reo raised his head and looked at you quizzically. "You whined that you wanted to sleep with us—we already made space for you!" Reo rolled to the side of the bed, forming a gap between him and Nagi. "You're short enough to fit in."

You looked towards Nagi, who already dozed off and said, "But he snores hours in, and you—did you call me short?"

Reo stuck out his tongue in response; you clenched the pillow hard and threw it at him. "I'm not short, rich boy! You're just super tall! You jumped onto the empty spot on the bed and attempted to smother Reo with the pillow. "I'm average!"

"Below average, you mean—hey!" You hit him with the pillow.

Though, of course, with the height and strength difference, Reo easily fended you off. He lightly chuckled before pushing you onto the bed and restrained your hands. "I guess you're sleeping here now~"

"You're so doing this because of the hydras, aren't ya?"

"Perhaps....."

"Are you guys going to sleep or what?" Nagi turned to face you both. He angrily pulled the only blanket away from you both.

"Nagi! But he called me short!"

"They tried to kill me!"

"I don't care—now be quiet."

"So mean." "I know, right?"

Nagi eventually allowed you and Reo to be under the blanket. Like three peas in a pod: Reo, you, and Nagi sunk into the bed with how soft and comforting it was. Nagi has the best place for sleepovers......not like Reo's parents would allow you or Nagi to stay over; plus, your parents would disown you before letting you invite two teenage boys over.

"Nagi is my family name just so you know........"

...........

"Wait, really?"

You're in love with Mikage Reo; You knew that the very moment you laid your eyes upon him during your first year at Hakuho High School. You love how his violet hair framed his face. You love how smooth his face was. You love how kind he was when talking to your classmates. You love how the light reflected in his eyes. You love the sound of his voice and laughter. You love his intelligence and wit. You love his smile and the way his hair moves in the wind. You love how confidently he presents himself.

However, your love was superficial.

You never spoken to Mikage for longer than five minutes. You never knew about his interests or hobbies. You never participated in the same school activities, nor did you know what activities he participated in. You weren't friends or even acquaintances. You were just another face he saw in the crowd. You didn't even know if he was actually friends with anyone in your class. You didn't know a single thing about Mikage Reo, and yet you claim to love him. There was once a time when all you knew about him was that he was the heir to the Mikage Corporation and really good-looking.

You were just another one of the countless others hopelessly in love with him.

You knew in your heart that this love of yours was only surface level. This was merely a crush blinding you with a pink tinted view. You only liked him for his looks: that was the truth. It's because of this that you drowned this feeling in your heart. You never bothered to pursue this infatuation or attempt to befriend Mikage; You knew that if you ever did, it would only be for selfish reasons. Just because you resigned the nonexistent future didn't mean you free of jealousy.

No matter how much you reminded yourself that Mikage would never love you—that your love for him was built upon a fantasy—you still got jealous with each and every confession he got. You didn't understand why girls kept persisting on confessing their romantic feelings to Mikage; though many of the girls in Hakuho High School came from affluent families, none of them could dream of standing next to Mikage. Besides just that, Mikage wasn't known to accept love confessions from random girls—so why bother when they know he won't even consider it? Why can't they just know their place?

Your love may have been superficial, but your jealousy was real. Where you were once able to keep that ugly feeling at bay, the moment you heard a certain name, you felt yourself go insane: Nagi Seishiro.

Some time during your second year, you noticed a change in Mikage's behavior. He began to skip on study sessions with your peers and leave as soon as the bell rung. His smile when talking to your classmates held much more emotion and glow that previously before. He seemed much more genuine than before. So much so that you began to wonder if he began dating someone. You remember feeling so irritable for the entire day after you had that thought.

You remember skipping one of your elective classes to follow and watch Mikage in his. There you saw how close he'd act with that detestable, unlovable, sorry excuse of a human being. Just what did he see in Nagi Seishiro of all people?!

"(L/n)!!! What are you doing outside my classroom?!"

Crap.

Okay, but Nagi Seishiro? What was so good about him that Mikage spent time out of his day to hang out with him? What was so special about him that you—no one else had?! That good for nothing loser isn't worth the time of day! Why can't he just die and leave Mikage out of it! WHY CAN'T IT BE YOU—It's because you don't even try to insert yourself in his life.

You hated being jealous; you hated hating others just because they had the courage to confess and talk to Mikage. You hated that you were too afraid of being rejected. You hated that you cared about others' thoughts of you. You hated that you even hated Nagi just because of a silly crush.

You shared at least two elective classes with Nagi that Mikage wasn't in; one of which you two were paired together in order to discuss an assignment.

"Are you okay?" Nagi asked; You had your head on your desk, covering your face, and he remembered that this wasn't normal behavior for others.

"No."

"....Oh." He didn't expect you to say that.

Nagi wasn't a bad person, and you knew that. However, that didn't stop your jealousy and hatred from growing.

"What does Mikage want with you?" You asked him as soon as the bell rang. You pulled on his sleeve and asked, "Why does he even bother with someone like you?"

You looked towards your shoes as you held tightly onto his sleeve. You didn't dare to look at his face after being so rude and forceful: You didn't dare look at your own jealous reflection in his eyes.

Nagi didn't flinch when you pulled him by his sleeve, nor did he try to pull away. All he did was say, "He wants me to join the football team."

"Then," you looked up at him and stared into his eyes, "don't join! Whatever he does or gives you, don't accept it! I'll do whatever you want! Just stay away from Mikage..."

You hated that he didn't see you as a grotesque, green monster. You hated how soft and gentle he looked in contrast to your jealous self. You hated that he didn't hate you.

"Whatever, just don't bother me." He already had to deal with Reo; he doesn't want to deal with you; but when did his wish ever come true?

"Nagi!" "NAGI WHAT DID I SAY?!" "Why is he all over you like a dog?" "Nagi, I made lunch for you, now hide away!" Nagi, you didn't respond to my messages!" "What did Mikage say to you? Let me see!" "How was he?" "Did he say anything about anything else?" "What did he give you?" "Nagi! NAGI!!! LOOK AT ME!"

No matter what he told you, you always kept coming onto him with so much energy. He didn't want to deal with Reo and his whole obsession with him—and he especially didn't want you to dictate his every move. Not to say he didn't like your cooking.

Nagi was sitting with you during one of your elective classes. He was playing on his phone while you were writing in your planner.

"I said I'd join him. We're having a practice match sometime this week."

"Why—"

"If you're so obsessed with Reo, why don't you talk to him?"

"I can't—"

He got tired of hearing your excuses and continued to interrupt you. "You already talk about how much you don't like me: why can't you tell him how much you like him?"

You couldn't say a thing as you looked away in shame. Nagi wasn't a forceful person; though he never appreciated your rude behavior, he never did lash out. Even so, his eyes and stare scared you so much. You didn't want him to hate you.

Nagi sighed and placed his phone down. You were so annoying and so irrational to the point that he asked himself why he bothered to entertain your delusions. "Why don't you come with me during practice and watch? I'll tell Reo that you're my friend or something."

you did just as Nagi told you and followed him to the football field thing (you didn't even know the school had one to begin with). You brushed your hair and wore your spare uniform; there was no way you would face Mikage looking the mess you usually are!

"Nagi, does my hair look okay? My outfit, there's no dirt or stains?" You pulled on your shirt and inspected every inch of yourself as you two walked.

Nagi let out another heavy sigh, "Your hair looks the same but less frizzy, and you're literally wearing the school uniform." He honestly thinks you have no chance of ever getting married; much less getting Reo to like you.

When you two met up with the rest of the football team, you hid behind Nagi. You felt intimidated by how tall everyone was, and besides, Mikage was there, and you were too nervous to speak to him. You pulled on Nagi's arm from behind and whispered, "Let's go see Mikage!"

Nagi sighed and did as he was told. You were such a pain; he hopes that you'll leave him alone once Reo (hopefully) tells you to leave so as not to disturb the other members.

"I didn't know Nagi had friends!" Reo smiled brightly and held your hands. "Please stay and help me motivate him to actually try!"

You were as red as a tomato and nodded; you felt as if you would melt by how hot you felt when Mikage held your hands. Nagi thought you would actually implode by the heat radiating from you. Either way, Reo didn't seem to notice or care—he was happy to hear that Nagi had friends to encourage him.

You never thought that you would actually talk to Mikage ever—much less have him hold your hands. You never thought you would actually speak to someone about things outside of academics. You never thought you could actually have friends. You never thought you would ever hang out with anyone after school, even if it was to watch them practice playing football.

You held Nagi's hand as you two walked to the playing field.

Mikage was exactly like what you had envisioned in your head. He was indeed the charming prince from fairytales—from your ideation and worship—he was beyond perfect and ever so kind. His smile, intelligence, and natural talent really shined through when you watched the practice match against Aomori Dadada High School's team.

You've done your own research on the team the moment you heard Mikage talking about it. The excitement in his voice was that of something you had never heard before. It was right before the match that you heard how egotistical he could be. When you came back from the restroom, you heard Mikage ranting to Nagi about his dream: how they'll make it to nationals than play internationally and win the World Cup. This was why he wanted Nagi; that is why he began to smile far brighter than you have ever seen him.

You hated how Mikage would look at Nagi when playing. You hated the jealousy you felt in your heart when you saw how he jumped onto Nagi's back when they won. You hated how you never saw him smile as genuinely as then. So, this is what Mikage is passionate about; this is his dream, his religion, his love.

Mikage was nothing like what you had envisioned in your head. Blinded by false love, you failed to see how bland his expressions were during class. Blinded by false love, those pink-tinted windows shattered when you saw how happy he became whenever he looked at Nagi. You became to laugh at yourself by how disillusioned you were.

Did you really think that you had to right to take Nagi away from him? Why did you think it was okay to harass Nagi just because of an infatuation? Did Mikage even mean anything when he smiled at you when he greeted you in the morning? Did he think of you as a foreigner?

You looked away from the cheering Hakuho's football club and collapsed onto the ground. You felt sick: he was right in front of you, and yet, he was so far away. He was heir to the Mikage Corporation and the top student at Hakuho. Charismatic and intelligent, how could anyone not like him? You were just a foreigner who moved to Japan because your parents thought it would be good for them; you only go to Hakuho because their coworkers encouraged them to enroll you there. How does a foreigner have the audacity to think that they could control the people he interacts with?

"—n)...(y/n), you good?"

You snapped out of trance when you heard Nagi call your name. He stood in front of you before sitting next to you. You shifted slightly, fixing yourself in a more comfortable position.

"You and Mikage won your first match, and you're asking me if I'm alright?" You leaned in towards him and grinned. "How could I not be okay! Mikage won, and he's so—!"

You retracted and held your hands close to your chest and squealed. "I'm so going to throw hands first chance I get. The andrenalin rush I got from watching you two absolutely destroy Aomori Dadada is absolutely insane!"

Nagi stared at you as he gave a knowing look. You gave him enough death threats and dirty looks to know when you're not alright. Nevertheless, it was not his place to concern himself with your personal problems.

Reo would soon join you two; he talked about Nagi and how much of "precious treasure" he was (Nagi swore he saw you glaring). Much to Nagi's surprise, you managed to keep a friendly yet civil expression when talking to Reo. Knowing how much of a loser you were whenever the topic of Reo came up, he was rather shocked.

"(L/n)! You should come practice with us! It would really help to encourage Nagi!"

"You sure about that? He's literally dying from just that game."

"I'm dying, Reo..."

This distant friendship of three was quite awkward in the beginning. Reo wanted to be close Nagi for his personal dream; Nagi wanted you and Reo to be his actual friends; You wanted to use Nagi in order to get closer to Mikage. This entire friendship was built upon personal benefit and selfishness. You are genuinely jealous of Nagi for Reo's affection towards him; Reo only conversed with you because he believed you were friends with Nagi; Nagi just wanted the three of you to get along with eachother.

"—is it you 'practice playing football' or 'you you're footballing?' "

Reo gave you the most disappointed look he could muster. Nagi placed down his phone and just stared at you with the deadpan expression he always wore.

"What? I'm asking the important questions here! It's like golf and golfing!"

"I literally just asked 'how was the school lunch,' and this is how you respond." Reo uttered, "you ever say 'footballing' ever again, I'll cut you out of my will."

"I'm in your will?"

Like a creek, you sometimes felt yourself waver. Whenever you're asked by your parents whether you have a special someone, you always say no. However, when they ask of you love anyone, you can't help but find yourself thinking of Reo and Nagi; how can it be anything other than love?

As you woke in the middle of the night, you sat up and stared at the two boys next to you. Nagi had his arm and leg over you (this heavy piece of sh—), and Reo pulled the blanket away from you two (Reo, you spoiled bitc—). Through hardships and struggle, you managed to escape Nagi's clutches and fell off the bed with a thud. Not surprisingly, those two didn't wake up—you could be dying for all they know, and they still wouldn't wake up.

Standing up, you turned to face the duo. You tilt your head and sighed. You stretched your arms and left Nagi's room. You made it to the kitchen and poured yourself a cup of water. Staring out of the apartment window, you thought about what your parents asked: "Are you happy with your friends?" Are you happy hanging out with Reo and Nagi? Is it okay for you to want to still be their friends after verbally abusing Nagi and stalking Reo? When did the dynamic between the three of you change? When did the dynamic between you and them change?

"Nagi," you held onto his shoulders and stared him dead in the eye, "You're coming home with me."

"What?"

It was a surprise even to you. The first time you went to visit Nagi at his apartment, you noticed how barren it was; you asked about his parents—you never noticed how lonely he was. You don't what compelled you to do so, but you ended up inviting (forcing) him to eat dinner with your family. You were teased by your parents for inviting a boy, and you angrily told them to stay quiet. The only reason you put up with the teasing after Nagi left was because of how content and relaxed he was whenever he talked to your parents.

"Your parents were nice—"

"—Nagi, drop dead."

"Yeah, I figured."

The day you noticed your feelings for Reo change, you two went shopping with Nagi to pick new clothes. Seeing him wear the same outfits over and over again when the three of you went out together was horrendous. So you and Reo took Nagi out on a date; you'll be choosing his clothes, and Reo will pay for them.

"Reo, this is clearly superior—"

"Yeah, sure—I should've known that someone of your status would have this kind of taste."

"The hell you say?!" "You know what I said!"

".....ah, I lost the 50/50....."

You and Reo were both vocal. You learned how selfish and egotistical he was: he learned how obsessive and controlling you were. Nagi, he was stuck in the middle of the battlefield. He was more surprised at the fact that you could, in fact, get mad at Reo. Nonetheless, you and Reo only fought in good fun—never with malicious intent. Plus, you got to hold his hand afterward (and Nagi's, but the important thing is holding Reo's hand).

After this quarrel, you two apologized to each other; you three stood there in silence and then laughed suddenly. You couldn't believe that you even had the humility to apologize and that Reo could apologize. At least you three (by you three, it means Reo) bought eleven outfit worth of clothes.

Just thinking about that moment made you chuckle. Reo must have felt comfortable enough around you to show that side of him. He was far from the charming prince you had fantasized of him. You remember inviting them over for dinner after shopping and your parents gushing over Reo. The way he'd give you a sly side-eye whenever your parents complimented him.

You looked at your cup of water and saw your reflection: you look tired. You drank the water and tossed the cup in the empty sink. Yawning, you went back to Nagi's room and slipped between Nagi and Reo. You pulled the blanket away from Reo and covered yourself and Nagi. Pushing them towards the edge, you gave yourself room to sleep comfortably. You listened to them breathe softly as you stared at the dark ceiling.

You once hated Nagi so much so that you wished he would just disappear; you once loved Reo so much it became an obsession rather than a simple crush. You don't even remember why you loved and hated those two. You don't obsess over Reo, nor do you hate Nagi—you care so much about them that this friendship can't be anything else other than love. All you know now is that your parents nag you about when you'll bring them over again: "They come over like everyday—they're basically our sons at this point. (Y/n), when are they coming over again?!"

As you three slept together in Nagi's bed, you thought about how you want to be with them for as long you can.

You noticed it for a while now: the way Reo looks at Nagi isn't a look someone would give a friend. The assortment of affectionate nicknames he had for Nagi, plus the amount of attention he gives Nagi is astronomical. Like, who carries someone everywhere and of their own free will: Reo. Who cooks and cleans their friend's apartment without being paid: you and Reo. Who calls their friends nicknames typical of couples unironically: you and Reo. Who snuggles their face in their friends neck when tired: Nagi. Who kisses their friends goodnight during sleepovers because they demand to have a kiss?...............definitely not you—

" 'Oh, (y/n), you're so obsessed with Reo. Why don't you confess?' "

Like, shut up Nagi—you're totally obsessed with Reo, too!

You see how Nagi's eyes sparkle whenever he looks at Reo. You see how he actively searches for Reo after school. You see how happy he looks whenever Reo praises him. Nagi is so obsessed with Reo that he really got defensive when Reo joked about getting another "Precious Treasure" if Nagi all of sudden sucked at football (you kicked his shins as soon as you heard that). Not to mention, the intense jealousy Nagi has whenever Reo gives attention to others. You can't believe that he had the audacity to call you jealous and obsessive.

You aren't jealous.

It's just that sometimes it gets lonely. The way they talk about football on a level, you'll never understand. They way they somehow just understand what the other is thinking without much effort. You'll never understand Reo's ambition and obsession with the World Cup, just as you'll never understand why Nagi bothers playing football when chewing food is such a pain. Besides, whenever you see them talk and celebrate together, you can't help but watch from afar. Why do they even bother hanging out with you if you can't even understand something as simple as that? You aren't even part of their friendship.

"You don't think they care about you the same you care for them?" Ba-ya stood next to you as you both watched the football club play against another team. You didn't want to look at her as asked the question; this is something you'd rather die than admit to Reo and Nagi.

"I just don't understand why I keep coming here to watch them play. They probably don't even care if I go anyway."

"Hm...aren't they the ones who invite you?"

"They're only doing that to be nice—"

Ba-ya interrupted you, "I believe that you should watch how they behave around you. I'm sure you'll find it's no different with how they treat each other."

Before you could respond, you saw something purple running towards you. Reo threw himself on you, and you both fell onto the grass. Ba-ya just stepped to the side as she watched you both.

"(L/n)! (L/n)! We won!" Reo propped himself over you and smiled. He rolled next to you and sat up.

You groaned as you felt the pain in your back. Still in the ground, you looked up at Reo, "Don't you always win?"

"We're just that good." Reo stuck out his tongue at you. You were seriously considering whether you should tackle him but decided against it when you heard Nagi coming towards you guys.

"Seishiro, come pick me up. Reo was being mean to me again." You reached out towards Nagi, waiting for him to pull you up. He chooses to ignore you and lie right next to you. "Prick."

"Let me rest—I didn't think the match would last that long." Nagi inched closer and used your stomach as a pillow.

"It was literally seven seconds longer than usual—"

"You time our matches?" Reo countered and gave you one of his sly grins.

"Oh, shut up." You sat up and pushed Nagi off you. "And don't touch me after you play— you guys are so sweaty it's actually disturbing."

You turned around and looked Ba-ya; what was that look she was giving you for? You turned back to face Nagi and Reo but were surprised when you were suddenly picked up.

"Re–REO!!! Let me down!" It wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't for the fact that these two were absolute giants (you're just short).

"Reo, carry me too."

Ba-ya watched as the three of you bickered back and forth. The fact you couldn't see how much those two care for you is shocking even to her. Just as you love them dearly, they love you the very same.

"Ba-ya! We'll be staying at (l/n)'s place tonight! Mrs and Mr (l/n) aren't going to be there for like two days—"

"How do you know that?"

"They gave us their phone numbers. I have them as 'mom2' and 'dad2.' Did Reo and I not tell you?"

You three had a sleepover at your place for the first time. The whole time, you couldn't help but wonder when your parents exchanged contact information. Actually, how did Reo know your parents were on a business trip before you did? But hey, it was entertaining!

"Guys, I don't think this was meant to hold three people."

"Why am I here? I didn’t even play or sweat!"

"I'm tired....can't you guys wash me?"

When it came time to sleep, Nagi took the bed, Reo the floor, and you on the floor underneath said bed. When morning came, you got up and stared at the two boys cuddling each other in your own bed. Sure enough, they woke up when they felt something crush them.

The three stretched and took turns using the restroom. You kicked them out of your room when you changed—only to have Nagi mumble, "didn't we bathe together yesterday?" Yeah, and? You had Reo help you cook breakfast as Nagi sat at the dinner table playing games. Though, of course, it can't be an average post-sleepover without you Reo messing with the food and making a big mess; this is why you two never cook together.

Then, as per Reo's request, you three head out to the football field and struggle to play (mostly you, you don't do football). Then Reo treats you two to a high-end restaurant; you and Nagi basically throw yourselves at him. Rich boy Reo loves to spoil his two pets.

With it being the weekend and having the place to yourselves, there was no way you three wouldn't have another gaming session.

"Today we'll playing hit American game 'Helldivers' " You did the salute and followed with, "All hail Super Earth!!! For liberty and beyond!"

"For democracy." Nagi did the Helldivers' salute in instinct. He jumped when he realized that he had saluted.

Reo just watched you two with an amused look. "How did you get your hands on an American game?"

"I have my ways."

Perhaps you shouldn't have ended the day by doing the Maevlon Creek mission.

"KILL THEM BOTS"

"FOR DEMOCRACY, SEISHIRO!!! SPREAD THE DEMOCRACY!!!"

"......you two do realize I'm doing this solo?"

It's not your fault that you and Reo suck at the game. That's why you have Nagi: carries you both even when you hold him back. Except with the creek, you two had to leave the game for him to beat the level.

Nagi is possesive: he doesn't want you or Reo to ever leave him. Just as Nagi loves Reo for paying attention to a slacker like him, he loves you for loving him. Life isn't as painful when with the both of you. Reo motivates him to try when playing football, and you motivate him to participate in other activities besides phone games. Your parents are way too caring, in his opinion; when they heard that he lived alone, they often made you bring him leftovers or invited him over for dinner. However, he doesn't hate their constant nagging on his health. Nagi just wants you two to stay by his life for as long as he desires. He wants you two to see him as himself as opposed to as a toy or tool. He doesn't want Reo to look for another talent—he doesn't want you to have any other friends as close as you are to them.

Reo is ambitious: Nagi is his precious treasure that will help him obtain the World Cup—and you are the worm that somehow made its way in his heart. He needs Nagi to validate his own worth; he wants Nagi to only look at him. He wants you to stay by his side; he doesn't want to leave you alone with anyone else. He wants to have many sleepovers and to play as many games as possible before graduation. Reo wants to make as many special memories that you two would never forget. He wants to be in every little moment and the reason for your joy. Life was dull before having you two in his life: he had no dream nor real ambition. Reo wanted a challenge, a change, and then he saw the World Cup. That is his dream; you two are part of his life and goal.

You are in love: you love Reo and Nagi so much it borderlines obsession. You fell in love with Reo once and lost that infatuation once he became your friend. You once hated Nagi because of your jealousy. You fell in love with these two because of how much they loved you. You love Mikage Reo because he's so prideful and selfish; you love Nagi Seishiro because he's so terminally-online and goes along with your oddness. You love these two so much you'd rather die than ever have them love anyone else. There is nothing that can describe this relationship other than love.

With the sun so bright and the sky as blue as it ever could be, the three of you went out to enjoy this lovely day.

"We'll be leaving later today for a special training program." Reo walked next to you with Nagi on his back. "I'm not sure how long we'll be gone, but it will be a considerable amount of time."

"Then you two better text me a whole ton when you get there!" You felt the wind graze your skin and the sun embracing you in its warmth. The day was far too nice to feel sad by the fact that they'll be moving on with their dreams without you. It's because that you love each other, you understand how important this opportunity means to them.

Reo looked at you from his peripheral vision and smiled. He gave a sigh, "I'll be sure to text as much as humanly possible—so, don't go out dying on me! Nagi here wouldn't be able to live without you!"

"What? I'd be fine." Nagi yawned as he placed his chin on Reo's shoulder. "Mrs and Mrs (l/n) would probably adopt me as their new child if that happened. "

Reo stopped walking and chuckled, "That was foul! (L/n), are you really going to take that disrespect?"

"Nagi? Yeah, you—Kys, kys, kys."

"Eh–don't feel like it."

Like three peas in a pod, you three are inseparable. No matter how far away one is, the other two aren't too far behind.

DefinitelyNotAStalker: guys, guys, text me when u get ur phones back

20%sugar80%daddy: what?

N@●|°: ?

DefinitelyNotAStalker: okay, so the funniest thing happend

Guess

N@●|°: you finally found a job

20%sugar80%daddy: you aced your biology exam!

DefinitelyNotAStalker: I got hit by a car

[1 attachment]

Ya girl died but

I LIVED

N@●|°: ?????

20%sugar80%daddy: WHAT? HOW? ARE YOU OKAY?

DefinitelyNotAStalker: I mean—I'm alive???

Just broke one leg but am otherwise

A-Okay!

N@●|°: skill issue

DefinitelyNotAStalker: .......

omg

20%sugar80%daddy is typing......

(affirming myself in the mirror) if that fictional man was real he would fuck you. He would fuck you. You're his exact type. If he saw you he'd get a boner instantly. He would fuck you he would fu

“this character is a heartless villain they’d never love you or ur oc” “this character doesn’t do romance” “this—“

LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER

WRONG! you or your oc is the exception

Ingo and Emmet dungeon meshi

i don't know much about this series outside of the very basics but here's what i imagine they could look like in it :D plus some verrrry loose additional concepts (because i wanted to show the off the shoulder cape thing)

It’s while you’re playing with dinosaurs on the floor that something comes crashing into your grand fight seen. You boggle a moment, caught off guard by the sleek white train that’s now knocked onto its side thanks to your mighty Tyrantrum. But you pick it up, and glance around the room to see who lost their toy.

All the other children are playing on their own. You can see a gaggle playing house, the father loudly scolding the “dog” for peeing in the house, thus sending the rest of the “family” into heaps of giggles. There are a few reading, buried in blankets and pillows as they smile at their picture books. And then there’s a lone boy, stood over by the corner, away from most everyone.

He stares at you, eyes flickering between your face and the train you hold. His smile is tight and looks painful.

You stand, and stride over to him. The boy jumps, head ducking away from your returned stare, only to jolt once more when you offer him the train back.

“Here!” You chirp, happy to have helped. “Your cool train ran into my Tyrantrum and had a big crash! But I’m super cool and smart, so I was able to fix it!”

Shaky hands take the train from you, and your grin wavers at the sight of the boy slowly turning a deep pink. You grow a little nervous, especially with his silence.

“Um, okay!” You say, false cheeriness lacing your words. “Bye!”

You race back to your own toys, shouting at Kevin when he tries to steal your Aerodactyl.

You don’t talk with the boy again, but whenever you glance his way, you can see him staring at you still. Weird! But you try not to mind it.

▽

You’re outside today, which is always super fun. You get to dig your hands into the dirt, piling it up into castles and towers that your imagination can fill with wizards and royalty to have drama amongst themselves. You’re so lost in your little dirt world that you almost don’t notice the shadow that falls over you.

You do notice, though, and glance up to see that same boy. His smile is still tight, but he’s holding something behind his back, the toe of his foot tracing shapes in the dirt.

“Hi!” You greet. “Whatcha got there?”

The boy flushes, but shows you what he’s holding. A small Venipede squirms around in his grip, barely bigger than his hands, so that means-!

“A baby!” You squeal, shocking the boy as you immediately begin to coo at the bug. “Hello! Hello! You’re so cute!”

The boy wobbles on his feet, but eventually sets the Venipede down for you to pet. The bug chitters and whines, leaning into your dirty palms. It makes you squirm with happiness, and you look up to thank the boy for showing you his find, only to see he’s gone.

“Oh.” You say, a little disappointed. But you don’t stay that way for long, as the boy soon runs up, skidding to a stop before you with his hands behind his back once more. “Oh! Yay! You’re back!”

The boy gives a jerking nod, then shoves his hands forward. You tumble back some, surprised to see the small white flower he clutches. It smells sweet, despite being so small.

“For me?” You ask breathily. The boy nods again, so pink you’re worried he’s given himself a fever. But you take the flower from him, smiling as he curls in on himself, fiddling with his own fingers. “Thank you!”

You plant a kiss to his cheek.

“Now we’re married!” You chirp.

The boy faints.

“Oh no!”

▽

You eye the man in the kitchen, chattering away with his brother as they fight over what’s for dinner. Sometimes you miss how cute and shy he used to be, but at the same time, it’s nice to see him grow into someone confident and happy.

Sighing, you close the book on the Venipede entry, safely encasing the tiny white flower pressed between the pages to be looked at another time.

Oh please, mr. Stone is my father.

Sobbing and crying when i think about the two main elf dungeon masters bc in a way thistle and marcille are very similar to each other

Both of them take on the mantle of dungeon masters with the motives to keep their loved ones safe/alive, thistle casting his immortality spell on the golden country and creating all this problem in the first place in order to protect his people and then marcille just right after that taking on the dungeon master mantle and capturing her group in order to keep them safe

Just thinking about how in their efforts to do good, they inadvertently hurt those they wanted to to protect aughhh thinking about loving something so much you hurt them because you can’t bear to let them go

Aughhhhgghh literally w so good like this friendship between these two are my Roman Empire

like the lines “Maybe we can come back here in fifty years, too” and “There’s no one else” literally messed me up so bad

LIKE PLEASE I NEED TO SEE THEM OLD AND WRINKLY AND HAPPY PLEASE

secrets i have held in my heart

part six — the killerverse masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of ares reader

summary: snapshots of you and luke throughout your lives, from elementary school to camp half-blood

content: childhood best friends in love. fluff. this is a 3 + 1 fic except you don’t find out what it is until you read/get to the end of the fic LOL

notes: title from i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys. this is a pretty important chapter i’d say lol but i dont think you have to read the rest of the killerverse to understand

SIX

Your hand is sticky with Elmer’s glue, but it’s only ‘cause the craft in class is super duper boring.

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, so you’re all decorating your shoe boxes that you’re going to fill with your Valentines tomorrow.

Your teacher wanted you guys to make your boxes nice and pretty, but you’re really, really bored. You drew a cat’s face on the top of your box and added googly eyes and pipe cleaner whiskers. There are a bunch of heart stickers all over it, too, the scratch and sniff ones that smell like strawberries. You and the girl next to you take turns picking up your box and smelling it.

But you kinda don’t really want to look at your box anymore. You didn’t like the way the crayon looked on the side so you went over it in marker, but it made it look even uglier. So you decide instead to put a bunch of glue on your hand and wait for it to dry so you can peel it all off. But you have to do it under the table, because your teacher got mad the last time you did.

You wait for Luke to look at you from across the room. When he finally looks back, you wave at him with your glue stained hand, smiling in a funny way.

He waves at you too. His box is bright red and has a nice drawing of a heart on the side. Luke is really good at drawing, and you’re only a little jealous.

Last night, your mom took you and Luke to the store to buy your Valentine’s exchange candy for tomorrow. And then you spent a few hours writing your classmates’ names on each piece, eating entire packets when your mom wasn’t looking. She ended up finding out because your teeth were stained green from the Fun-Dip, but she just smiled and said not to have anymore.

You miss Luke. He’s talking to the boy who sits next to him on the other side of the room, and you wish you were over there too. You and Luke got separated because you would talk to him too much, so now you sit at the table in the very front of the room.

Ally must get bored of your fun strawberry stickers, because she turns around in her chair and giggles next to you a little loudly.

You turn to her. “What’s so funny?”

Her box has a butterfly on it, but it’s missing a wing. She’s busy looking at the table next to you guys.

“I have a crush on Nick. Do you think he’ll be my Valentine?”

You almost gag.

You don’t really like Nick. He pulled your hair during recess once, and you got in big trouble for throwing dirt at him in return.

You try to be nice, but it’s hard. He annoys you. A little hotly, you ask, “Why do you like Nick?”

“He has nice hair. And he ran even faster than you in the relay race, so that means he’s really fast.”

You’re the fastest girl in the grade by a mile, even beating out almost all of the boys, which people were weirdly surprised at. But Nick is a super slow runner, and his team only beat yours because your sneakers came undone during it.

“I mean, I guess.”

Ally’s high ponytail nearly whacks you in the face when she turns to face you again.

“Do you like anyone?” she asks. She finally picks up her colored pencil to finish the wing of her butterfly.

You pause. You don’t really know.

What even would make you like someone? Ally likes Nick because he can run fast. Maybe you’re supposed to like someone if they’re super strong.

Joey helps your teacher put the chairs up at the end of the day. And he runs fast, too. He’s the boy that Cate and Brielle have a crush on. And Tia. And Farah.

Basically everyone, actually.

He wears so much gel in his hair that it sticks up like a porcupine. But he runs fast, and is one of the only people who can tag you when you guys play Tag during recess.

“I like Joey,” you decide. You aren’t really sure what that means.

“No!” Sofia protests from across the table. You’d forgotten she was sitting there. “I like Joey. You have to have a different crush.”

“Oh, okay.” You look around the classroom. “Who should I like?”

“What about your boyfriend?” Taylor asks from next to Sofia.

“Boyfriend? Ew, what?” you nearly yell.

Someone shushes you from the table Nick’s sitting at. You don’t want to get in trouble again, so you don’t stick your tongue out at them.

“Who?” Ally asks, putting down her colored pencil. Her blue-purple butterfly is finally done, and she’s looking pretty curious.

Taylor points a painted finger toward the back of the class. “Luke.”

You turn back to look at him.

Luke runs fast, too. He’s the fastest boy in the grade. And he doesn’t wear any stupid gel in his hair like Joey does. He has a lot of soft curly hair that you like to twist around your fingers. You decide he has much better hair than Joey and Nick.

Ally gets a big smile on her face. “You and Luke, sitting in a tree.”

Sofia laughs, joining Ally and her teasing.

“K-i-s-s-i-n-g!” they spell, your face growing hotter with each letter.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you say, angry and embarrassed. You hope Luke can’t hear them. “Stop lying.”

The two of them don’t listen, going on and on about how you and Luke must kiss all the time. You think your head is going to explode.

“Stop!” you repeat, but the two of them go on and on and on.

On a piece of scrap paper, Ally draws a big heart. Inside, she starts to draw two stick figures, and you nearly shriek in embarrassment. You tug her colored pencil out of her hand, and she slips out of her chair.

The girls around the table look at you, wide eyed. Even Nick’s table hears the thump and turns around.

Ally bursts into tears immediately, massive waterfalls running down her face.

She still manages to scowl through the tears. “I’m telling!”

You stand awkwardly with the red colored pencil in your hand.

Great.

Ms. Annin ends up moving you again, even further from Luke. You get placed at a lonely table all by yourself right next to her desk.

You never speak to Ally again.

TWELVE

It’s still weird getting used to having another person traveling with you.

You’re really thankful for it, because your turns to keep watch at night have gotten a lot shorter. Now that Thalia’s with you, you’re more well rested than you’ve been in years. Plus, she’s a great fighter. There really is strength in numbers, because the three of you rarely struggle against the monsters that you happen to come across.

Of all the demigods you could’ve found, you’re glad you found Thalia. She’s funny and can keep up with you and Luke even though she’s slightly younger.

But even though you have absolutely no problems with her being here, it’s still a little weird.

It kind of feels like when you’d get a new kid in class in grade school. You have to consciously remind yourself that there’s three of you now, not just two. Your duo has been upped to a party of three, something you haven’t experienced ever. It’s always been you and Luke against the world, and you’ve never really experienced anything else.

But it’s not a bad weird. Thalia’s had your life in her hands multiple times since last week, and you’ve trusted her to do her part wholeheartedly. She’s strong, and can pull her weight and more.

You think the two of you are bound to be close friends eventually. Luke will always be your best friend, but you’ve never had a close friend that’s a girl before, and the thought of it makes you smile. It’s new.

Now that there’s three of you, you’ve had to make a few changes as well. You’d all known that three demigods were bound to attract more monsters than two, and decided that sleeping out in the open wouldn’t cut it anymore.

So, you’d all started construction on a little shelter made of old plants and vines and whatever other things the woods would offer you. It’s still a work in progress, and does absolutely nothing against the rain, but it’s pretty wind resistant, which has seemed to deter any monsters from finding your little group so far.

You offer to accompany Luke to go find sticks for tonight’s fire, but he gives you a very pointed look before turning around and leaving.

Safe to say, he’s still a little wary of you doing anything ‘too difficult’ since your brief stint in the hospital last month.

You scoff at the idea of him deeming the act of picking up literal sticks from the floor as ‘too difficult.’

It had taken weeks before Luke even let you carry your bag again, and you’re honestly just lucky he’s not hovering like he had before.

You grumble to yourself all the way back to the shelter, a little peeved but too tired to chase after him to argue about it.

When you push aside the shrub that works as a makeshift door, you see Thalia, poking a little at the fire you had started a bit ago.

“Hi,” you greet, looking around for where you’d left your sleeping bag.

“Hey.”

None of your stuff is in the pile by the door where you’d left it, and when you scan the room again, your eyes bulge out of your head.

Thalia’s been kind enough to roll out your sleeping bags for you, which you’re about to thank her for, but your jaw falls open at the formation of them.

Thalia’s sitting on her black sleeping bag, staring peacefully into the fire. But it’s smack dab in the middle between you and Luke.

You shut down the shocked oh that threatens to leave your mouth.

It’s not a big deal. It’s only a distance of eight feet or so, and it’s not like you’re never speaking to Luke ever again. You just can’t remember the last time you’ve slept so far away from him.

But it’s not even a big deal! It really isn’t. It’s just that before Thalia joined, not sleeping next to Luke wasn’t even an option you had. You’re just surprised at how new everything is now.

That’s all.

…

Really. That’s all.

Thalia’s turned away from the fire and is looking pointedly at you. “You okay?”

“Hmm?”

“You zoned out for a second there.”

“Oh, oops, sorry.” You scratch your head, trying your best to chill out. “Just thinking.”

You sit on your sleeping bag, wrapping your arms around your shins. You’re a little humiliated at how badly this is irritating you.

Should you bring it up? Surely she won’t care.

No. It’s one singular night. You’ll survive.

You give the younger girl a side glance. She’s already looking at you.

Her laugh crackles throughout the shelter, and she actually clutches her chest, amused out of her mind.

“Sorry, I forgot you’re like, boyfriend-girlfriend or whatever.”

You choke. “Uh—”

She yawns, getting up to stretch and drag her sleeping back closer to you so there’s a significant gap between her and Luke. “Kissing really grosses me out, so don’t do it in front of me. But if you guys are dating, I’d rather third wheel than cut between you two.”

“We’re not dating.”

The look she gives you with her piercing blue eyes makes you feel scrutinized. “You don’t have to pretend. You make crazy eyes at him.”

“Crazy eyes?” It feels like your real eyes (that definitely don’t look in any particular way towards Luke) are going to bulge out of your head.

“I think he likes you, too, though. So don’t worry.”

“Oh my gods,” you groan, placing your face into your hands. “Not you, too.”

She snickers again, her laughter filling the room. “Do you get that a lot?”

The fire makes the air feel too sticky and hot. You fight the urge to fan your face. “People tell us that all the time. Like, even one of our teachers at school did. It’s so embarrassing ‘cause we don’t even like each other like that.”

“Oh, dang, really?”

“Really.”

She thinks about it for a moment, running a hand through her hair. It’s wet from the sink water from the gas station bathroom.

“Are you sure, though?”

You wrinkle your nose. “It’s Luke. I think I’d know if I liked him.”

“So you don’t want to switch spots?”

You go quiet, and Thalia laughs again.

“Yes or no?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

She seems awfully smug, and you jump to defend yourself.

“It’s not because of that! I’ve just gotten used to it—”

“Sure,” Thalia hums, giving you a wicked grin. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, though. He’s good looking enough, I think. And he’s tall.”

You huff at her refusal to believe. But you can’t help but ask, “You think he’s good looking?”

It reminds you of when the girls in the year below you would always volunteer to partner with Luke whenever the classes did gym together. It’s funny.

Thalia tilts her head. “Don’t you?”

Of course you think so. You’ve never really had a crush on anyone, but you have enough sense to think Luke’s face is nice.

“I guess,” you say, trying not to give her anything to use against you.

She cracks another smile. “Okay. Well, you should move over before he comes back. I’m tired.”

You shift over in a daze, making sure to leave a normal amount of space between you and Luke’s sleeping bags. If Thalia notices, she doesn’t say anything.

He comes back a little bit later, a comically large pile of sticks in his hands. He carries them right over to the fire by your heads, dusting his hands off after he sets them down.

“That should be enough,” he whispers, wary of Thalia’s sleeping form.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Should be? I’ll be surprised if you even left any trees alive out there.”

Luke snorts before turning around to look at you. Whatever snarky thing he wanted to say dies on his tongue, though.

“Are you good?” he asks.

You wonder if you could just zip yourself into your sleeping bag and never speak to anyone again.

“Yeah. Why?”

He looks to Thalia and then back to you. “You’re so close to Thalia you’ll probably roll on top of her in your sleep.”

The extra foot of space between you and Luke goes unmentioned.

“There’s like, a draft,” you decide to say. “It’s cold right there.”

Luke stands over the spot where your sleeping bag would usually lay, holding out his hands like he’s trying to feel for the wind. “Are you sure?”

“Yep. Much warmer over here.”

He gives you a funny look. “Okay. I feel fine though, so…”

Luke drags his red sleeping bag over to yours so the edges are nearly touching. You don’t want to look in Thalia’s direction on the chance she’s still awake.

“Goodnight, killer,” he mumbles. “I’ll take first watch.”

Your elbows brush his when he lays down, and he tugs your blanket over him as well, grumbling something about you being a blanket hog.

When you turn onto your side, you’re startled by the sight of Thalia’s electric blue eyes. They shine with barely contained laughter.

You turn right back around.

SIXTEEN

You’re happy and full from the good food you had while you walk towards the exit of the diner.

“I still can’t believe we’re both old now.”

“I’ve been sixteen for less than a day, Luke. We’re not that old.”

“Well we’re old enough to drive. I think that makes us pretty old.”

You picture Luke behind the wheel — he’d be a great driver, you can tell.

“If you got your license, I’d make sure to stay off the roads,” you say anyway.

“Gee, thanks. So much confidence in me.”

“I’d warn everyone, too. I’d hold a sign out the window that’d say: Keep a safe distance from this vehicle.”

“Woah, who said anything about me letting you in the car? I hope you have fun on public transport.”

“I was kidding! All jokes, I swear—”

You cut yourself off with a gasp, which he tenses at.

You seize his wrist before he can even ask what the issue is. “Luke, we need two dollars.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Huh?”

You point to the small box by the front door. “It’s a photobooth! Do you have two bucks?”

You slip ahead to inspect it while he checks his wallet. You can’t even tell if the machine is still functional, but the light outside flickers, so you assume it does.

When you turn back to look at him, he shakes his head. “I got a five, but I doubt this thing gives change.”

“Ya need a spot?”

You and Luke spin, immediately on the defensive. Your hand closes around the dagger tucked into the front of your jacket.

There’s an old man leaning against the wall a couple feet away, a well loved coat clutched against his front. You almost roll your eyes at the way Luke steps in front of you.

He’s sweet, but kinda stupid.

Your hand loosens around your weapon when you see the man. He looks normal enough.

“Do you have change for a five?” you pipe up from behind Luke.

He says your name in a low tone, trying to remind you of the very real danger this sweet old man could bring. Monsters aren’t afraid to take any form — even if it means they look like a kind man who feeds ducks at parks.

The man pats his pockets, and you sidestep Luke to walk up to him. Luke knows there’s no stopping you, so he follows closeby.

“Yes, ma’am,” the man says, pulling out his wallet.

“Thank you so much,” you say, urging Luke to hand over the five dollar bill you have.

He doesn’t look very happy, but you’re too busy smiling at the man to care. He opens his wallet to pull out his cash and you catch a glimpse of a little black and white picture in the photo sleeve.

He smiles when he catches you looking. “Ya like it? That’s me ‘n my girl.”

“She’s gorgeous,” you say honestly. “You two are so cute.”

He pulls out the photo to show you it close up. It unfolds into a photobooth strip, the edges worn and clearly aged with time.

It’s definitely the man in front of you right now, but a few decades younger. He and his lover look to be in college, maybe in their late teens. You can see the love they have for each other even through the picture.

“It’s from our first date,” he explains, his eyes proud while he reminisces. “That was fifty years ago last month, in this very diner, at that photo booth over there. We come back here every year for our anniversary.”

You clutch the space over your heart, gushing. “That’s so cute!”

“She sent me to pick up food today, but I know she’d share the same sentiment as me if she was here—you two remind me a lot of us.”

You’ve grown to not be too embarrassed when someone mistakes you and Luke for a couple. You’d get embarrassed and angry when you were younger, but it’s kinda whatever now.

“We’re actually—”

“Thank you,” Luke cuts in. He drops a hand on your shoulder while he urges you back in the direction of the booth. “For the compliment and the change.”

“It’s no problem, son,” he assures, giving you both a toothy grin.

You say your goodbyes over Luke’s shoulder while he ushers you under the curtain of the booth.

“Isn’t that so cute, Luke?” you gush quietly. “This is the same place they were fifty years ago! They’ve been together longer than we’ve even been alive.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, feeding the cash into the receiver. “But we gotta go if we still wanna catch our tour.”

“Oh, right,” you say. Luke had bought tickets to a sightseeing trip after. “We’ll be fast.”

The pictures come out so cute and a lot like the black and white strip the old man had. There was a lot less space inside the booth than you’d thought there’d be, so you’d been forced to sit on Luke’s left leg to fit in.

It’s a strip of four pictures. There’s one of you and Luke’s faces pressed together and one of you smiling while you threw an arm around him.

The bottom two are your favorites though. There’s one of you kissing his cheek, and then one of you laughing at him after his face went bright red.

“Maybe we can come back here in fifty years, too,” you suggest, still looking at the pictures even after you’re a few blocks away from the diner.

It sounds stupid. You aren’t even sure if demigods survive that long, but you’d like to think you and Luke would be the exception.

He squeezes your shoulder as the pier comes into view. “Yeah. Maybe we should.”

NINETEEN

Luke rarely sleeps in the Ares cabin with you, a fact you’ve had plenty of arguments about.

(“Your siblings still hate me,” he had claimed. “I have to sleep on my stomach there ‘cause I swear I’ll wake up with a dick drawn on my forehead one of these days.”

You’d just glared at him. “You and your siblings literally have prank wars while I’m over.”

Once, someone had tried to get back at one of Luke’s stupid stunts by dressing up like that girl from The Ring and standing over his bed in the middle of the night.

You’d woken up from all of their whispering, and acted on instinct. You decked the poor kid standing over you in the face.

They’d all learned their lesson, and Luke was granted immunity from pranks whenever you’re over.

“That was one time,” he always defends. “At least they like you. Lance rolled his eyes when he opened the door for me last week.”

“That’s ‘cause you tripped him and made him faceplant during Capture the Flag.”

He’d paused, trying his best to remember.

“He’s still mad about that?”)

Nevertheless, Luke only comes over for super special occasions. But it’s times like these when you wish your siblings hated him a little bit less, cause you can see the hesitation on his face when you ask him to sleep over.

You’re probably pouting. “Please? I haven’t slept over at yours in so long, and you haven’t been here in forever. And it’s our day off tomorrow, so you really have no good excuse.”

He frowns. “Tomorrow’s the eighth?”

You nod, grabbing onto his wrist like it’ll keep him with you, but you already know you won’t like his answer when his frown deepens.

“‘m sorry. I gotta help Alice with something early tomorrow morning. I can’t tonight.”

You groan, a little disappointed. Luke links your hands together and squeezes it in apology before he drags your dead weight to the Ares cabin.

He cracks open the door for you and lets you go, but not without you throwing your arms around his shoulders and drawing him as close to you as you can.

“I’ll see you early tomorrow morning. I’ll make it up to you after I’m done with my sister’s thing.” he promises, rocking you back so far it feels like you’re gonna fall. You clutch onto his shoulders a little tighter.

“Early?” you groan. “It’s our day off, Luke. Have mercy.”

“We got a long day of nothing tomorrow. Ever heard about seizing the day?”

“No. Ever heard about sleeping in?”

“What kinda counselor would I be if I let you wake up at noon?”

“A sweet and kind and perfect one who cares about the campers?”

He releases you, smiling. “I’ll see you at seven.”

“Ten,” you argue.

He laughs. “I’ll see you at eight.”

“Nine thirty?”

“Don’t push it. Nine, and that’s the latest.” He pats your cheek soothingly when you pout.

“I should’ve started my first offer at eleven,” you lament.

“Goodnight,” he practically sings, stepping off the porch.

You pretend to glare at him, but can’t help but wave. “Night.”

He winks at you, and you turn back inside when he disappears from view.

You nearly topple over a child when you try to enter the cabin.

You’re able to catch yourself at the last second, but it still startles you. You look down to see a little girl standing right in front of you, so short she comes up to around your ribcage. She’s new to the Ares cabin, just claimed last week, but not new to camp.

“Hi, Faith,” you greet. “Are you okay?”

“Who was that?” she asks curiously.

You crouch down so she doesn’t have to break her neck to talk to you. “That was Luke, remember? He’s the counselor of the Hermes cabin.”

“Oh.”

“Did you forget about him?” you tease. “He told me such sweet things about you.”

She clasps her hands together behind her back. “No. I didn’t forget, but…”

She hesitates, so you nod at her to go on.

“He looked nicer right now.”

You fight the urge to smile. “Was Luke scary back at the Hermes cabin?”

It would make sense. Luke’s not actually scary, but the way he rough houses with his siblings when he’s with them would probably be intimidating to a little kid.

She shrugs. “Yeah. A little.”

“Well…” You smile. “Luke isn’t scary at all, I promise. I know you’ve already met, but I can reintroduce you to him tomorrow, if you want.”

“No, thanks.”

You have to crack a smile at that. She’s not trying to be mean, but she clearly does not care about Luke at all.

The kids at camp are so funny sometimes that you have to physically stifle your laughter at the random stuff they say.

“Alright, then. You headed to bed?”

She nods and scampers off into her bunk by the back.

You can’t wait to tell Luke about how he’s scaring off the little kids.

—

You get more hours of sleep that night than you have in months, but all good things come to an unfortunate end.

Someone’s calling your name, and you groan as you sit up. You blink through the haze in your eyes that threaten to make them shut again.

It’s Faith. She’s standing by the door, looking up at the visitor outside.

“Yeah?” you groan, stretching out your limbs, unused from sleep.

“Your boyfriend’s here.”

Luke.

True to his word, he’s here bright and early. You wonder if you’ll be able to convince him to lay down with you.

“Can you let him in, please?” you call, slumping back into your sheets. It’s so much warmer under your blankets.

The wooden floors creak as he gets closer, and you hold your hands out for him.

“Hey—”

“Please lie down.”

That gets a laugh from Luke, but it doesn’t work. He pushes you over so he can sit in the empty space he makes on your bed.

“I let you sleep in. It’s ten.”

“Mhm. My hero.”

You think he’s smiling. “I have a surprise.”

“Yeah?”

You wonder if the surprise is staying here with you until noon. You really hope it is.

There’s a box in your lap, and you move your hands over it like you’ll be able to guess what it is through touch alone.

Luke rubs the sleep from your eyes. “You’re gonna have to open your eyes for this one.”

You open your eyes very reluctantly.

It’s a cake.

It’s frosted white and has the cool swirls going around the top edge and bottom edge, and you don’t have to ask to know what flavor it is.

Written on the top in slightly lopsided frosting, it says: Happy Half-Anniversary.

Luke only comes into the Ares cabin for special occasions, you remember.

Like today, your half friendship anniversary.

When Luke had first started proposing that you celebrate, you’d laughed. Right in his face.

You’d asked him if he was making things up to mess with you. But he’d argued that camp was lame with nothing to look forward to, so he was making any chance to celebrate whenever he could.

You’d both chosen a random day to celebrate, since there was no way of knowing when you’d actually become friends. You’d suggested a couple months after your birthday, since your moms had probably taken you to meet each other the moment your little baby immune system was strong enough.

Luke had shot that down immediately, saying it’d be too close to his half birthday or something, and you two needed to spread out your celebrations as much as possible. So you’d found a calendar and chose the most strategic day that allowed for maximum celebrations.

…In hindsight, it sounds ridiculous.

But you were fourteen and bored, and now you have about ten different excuses to have one of the Demeter kids bake you a cake.

“It’s the eighth,” you realize. Something like guilt presses heavy into your chest. You know he won’t think it’s a big deal — it’s a made up anniversary, after all — but you can’t help but look up at him, frowning. “I’m so sorry, Luke, I can’t believe I forgot.”

One of his hands moves to cover one of yours where it sits on the box. “It’s okay, killer. I know you’ve had a long week.”

You have. You really have to thank fourteen-year-old Luke who insisted on all these celebrations. This anniversary couldn’t have come at a better time, cause now you have some really good cake and a day off with your best friend.

You’re admiring the details along the side of the cake when Luke speaks up, drawing your gaze back to his face. He leans back onto his hand that’s right by your upper leg.

“So. Your boyfriend, huh?”

The sound you make is caught between a choke and a gasp. “What?”

“Faith called me your boyfriend, and you just let me in,” he muses thoughtfully. He turns back to look at the cake, suddenly absorbed in the frosting details as well.

You get warm all over. You hadn’t even realized. The idea had seemed so natural, you didn’t even think about correcting her.

What the fuck, you realize. That’s not normal.

“You got something you wanna tell me?” Luke teases, his voice trying for joking but landing somewhere between strained and awkward.

Your throat is dry, and you have to cough for sound to come out. “Oh. I just got so used to it, I didn’t even…”

Luke looks back up at you, something flickering in his eyes. “Oh. So there’s no secret boyfriend you’ve been bringing here without telling me?”

That’s what he was worried about?

You can’t help but laugh.

“Is there even anyone else?”

Luke’s eyes dart over your face, and you can tell he wants to say something. His hands are warm where they’re cupped around yours, and you begin to grow frighteningly hyperaware of every spot that you’re pressed together — at your knees, at the back of your hand, at the slightest part of your thigh.

Whatever tension that crackles over your skin and between the inches between the two of you is broken the second Luke grins, the sight sending your heart slamming against your ribcage.

“Huh. Guess not.”

He puts the box onto your bedside table and moves you over even more so he can lay back against the headboard.

“I knew you’d fold,” you joke, trying to keep your voice even and failing miserably.

Luke doesn’t notice. He hooks his hands under your arms so he can drag you upright next to him, but your bed is so small that you have to lay half on top of him to fit.

It’s not the first time you’ve laid like this. Luke does this whenever he’s trying to keep you from falling asleep, so you have no idea why it feels so different right now.

Gods, you think you feel ill. You wonder if you need an AED to shock your heart back into a normal rhythm.

“I’ll give you five minutes, okay?” Luke says. “Then we can start our long day of nothing.”

Five minutes turns into fifteen when he starts talking to you about what he’d helped his sister with earlier. Then twenty minutes bleeds into forty-five while you listen to him talk about the latest joke his brother pulled on him since you haven’t been around to give him prank-immunity.

It feels like you’ve been doused with cold water when you realize it’s not Luke’s stories that’s keeping you awake. It’s not him forcing you to sit up with him that’s doing it, either.

You’re being kept wide awake by the butterflies taking flight inside your chest.

Holy fucking shit.

notes: alternatively, three times someone called luke your boyfriend and the one time you realized you actually really liked it

lol! 5.4k words whew whew whew please scream with me about them

series masterlist

I lied maybe he’s literally just Like That

I can’t get over how much they made chilchuck look like a sausage in the anime

I can’t get over how much they made chilchuck look like a sausage in the anime

Wanted to see what it was all about so I read all of Dungeon Meshi today and it’s such a wonderful little story. I think it’s messaging is really beautiful - agony over the inevitable will perpetuate itself eternally if you let it, and the most fulfilling thing you can do in life is take care of yourself and others. So much to think about!

practice

bring his ass to a simmer

im actually going to just look at him forever if thats okay

-Listen! I’m finally better. Looks like the medicine you gave me worked. Thanks. -What a fool… No, we’re the fools.

The Flesh, Blood, Bone, Heart and Soul : There once was a jellyfish who wished to be human

Laios Touden x Monster! Reader

Synopsis - you're a jellyfish who had no heart or soul to even desire the purest desire—you wanted nothing and desired not even the will to eat. One day, a winged lion came to you and asked if you wanted to see. You didn't know what that meant at the time; that was until the lion wanted you to meet a human.

Word count: 7.8k

Tw. Very brief mentions cannibalism, depictions of violence and lots of blood, near character death, eating disorders, major spoilers for the manga, viewer's discretion advised

Next.

For the longest time, you were just a jellyfish. A lone jellyfish floating in the abyss of water, deep in the dungeon.

You watched as those sea creatures ate each other. Feasting on each others flesh and tearing tails and fins off of each other. But then you would watch them mate and produce offspring — and the cycle repeats.

All you would and could do was watch as they did so; just eating the scraps and algae. And that was all you would do — eat. With no coherent thought, you were just a regular jellyfish in an aquarium full of monsters.

"Do you want to think?"

What was there to think? All you needed to do was eat.

"Do you want to see those mermaids in disgust?"

Why would you want to see mermaids? You already can.

"Do you want to go beyond this aquarium and up above the surface?"

You don't know what that means.

It wasn't anything magical or grand. One day, you realized you were alive and living in a sea with other live creatures. You didn't think much of it. It was as if you knew for your entire life.

It was when one of the mermaids tried attacking you, did you realize what the power of sentience gave you.

You could eat more than just scraps.

From a jellyfish, you morphed into a monstrous, distorted version of a mermaid. The more you ate, the bigger you got, and the more you turned into into a coverage shape. You became the serpant of the dungeons sea, devorour of all creatures from the waters. You ate undines, mermaids, mermen, and anything that was in your domain.

But then one day, suddenly, you felt something new.

You felt lonely.

There were very little monsters of your kind that would dare approach you. Even then, you ate so much there wasn't anything that could approach you.

You didn't want to eat anymore. You didn't want those monsters gone. You don't want to be alone.

You morphed from a leviathan sea serpant back into a jellyfish like-form. With flesh akin to jellyfish and a form similar to the mermaids that sung you songs: You were you.

"Do you want to go back to how things were?"

"If I did, then things would get as scary as I was and eat everything."

"They still would regardless of your wishes."

"Then stop allowing them!"

"They are the same as you, unknowing. It is my faith and goodwill to grant those with desires, knowledge."

"Then what may I do?"

"Do you want things to go back as they were before?"

"No."

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Like the sea anemones and algae, you remained stationary in place.

You sat on a coral throne, hands in your lap, listening to the mermaids sing. You watched as juvenile mermaids and merman fought each other, and despite the mermaids always having the upper hand, you enjoyed seeing the mermen struggle for survival. It was truly amazing to see the will all living things in the dungeons waters have to live. It was a perfect equalizer, keeping the population of both at bay.

As you sat on your coral throne, like the canary birds that sing, you sang the monarchs melody for the mermaids. You sang your song, and they would sing theirs. They wove you dresses and hairpieces from the coral and stone under the dungeons floor. They gave you the flesh of mermen, bladefish, and cephalopds. You felt the meat the mermaids would in your hands. You squeezed the lump of flesh as blood flowed in the water, and you devoured it.

You hated eating.

It was one of the things you came to despise. For you, it was the source of all evil things. It was desire and hunger that nearly made you eat all living things in this artificial ocean. It was the desire to eat that ruined you. Hunger and desire was what made so very lonely. It was that very desire that caused so many plants and organisms to suffer in pain. You couldn't believe you ate all those creatures.

You hated eating.

Only eating when you were on the brink of death.

You were the hunter; you dominated the waters of the dungeon. You watched and felt every movement in the water. You smelled and tasted every bit of blood that flowed in the water. You saw everything — there was not a single thing that could escape your watchful eyes. You sought out those monsters with desires as strong as yours, and with a watchful gaze, you wrapped your lappets around the still living prey. They could try biting you, tearing your skin, scratching out pieces of your flesh, but that never stopped your attack. There was no need to pay attention to pain you couldn't feel. They never were alive long enough to injure you anyway—especially not when you had the water's blessing.

Your lappets constricting and tightening as you felt them grow faint. Their mind and body numbing as you constricted tighter. They couldn't hurt you when they couldn't move.

As they remain barely conscious, you dug through their flesh and ripped the bones out. You peeled any fur off the skin and ate the tissue. You chewed on the blood vessels, trying to draw out more and more blood. You constricted around them tighter and tigher to watch the blood squeeze out of the limp lump of flesh. You tightened your hold on it as you tore through muscle and fat to reach the heart.

It was only when you had all the hearts that you finally let go of the lifeless piece of flesh.

The mermaids really liked it when you brought them the heart of the prey. However, there were days you were especially hungry; just so very hungry, you couldn't help resist going out to hunt for more.

You felt the water move ever so slightly.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Songs were the mermaids' passion.

As you rest upon your coral throne, the sung you songs. They loved to dance and sing the events of that day. They told you stories of the food they ate, the stones they found, the surface creatures they lured in the water, or even the mischievous actions of the youngest mermaid.

Blessed by the waters of the dungeon, songs became your passion.

Every night cycle, you love to rest in the coral reefs as they rest by your side. You would sing them your melody — one about the wonders and curse of gluttony. You lulled them to sleep, and once you were sure that they all were asleep, you would melt away and morph back into a jellyfish. You would shield them with your body, and it was only when you were sure they were safe, did you finally allow yourself to sleep.

The mermaids, sirens, fish, and kelpie were your passion.

You love them all so dearly. Despite knowing their nature to devour each other, you can't help but still love each and every one of them.

It wasn't their fault that they needed to eat. They were born, as all living things, to eat, consume, reproduce, die, and repeat. You couldn't blame them over something that is instinct. You were once the same; so very small, so very primitive. You were once just a jellyfish with no thought nor any sense of pain.

"There is this human who goes by the name Laios. Unlike the humans in the stories I tell you, he admires the monsters in the dungeon."

You opened your eyes as you hid beneath the coral reef. "Is that so?"

"He admires the biological nature of monsters. He has a deep passion for the monsters of this dungeon and holds a great yearning for knowledge."

"A human..." You asked as you held your lappets closer to your body. "Humans are the same as I, aren't they?"

The lion chuckled as his voice bellowed in your head. "Humans are much more extraordinary. They are born with the nature to exceed the instinct and animalistic nature all life is born with. They needed no gift to have the ability to think beyond nothing. You aren't anything close to their organic being; You're just an artificial attempt at intelligent life."

You tilt your head to your side as you pondered. "If I don't exceed this nature of mine and they do, then this human wouldn't have the primal fear when facing monsters, am I correct?"

"He wants to live alongside monsters. He doesn't wish for them to be seen as monsters but rather the same as the living creatures above."

"The same?"

"Yes—just as you accept the cruel nature of the creatures in your residence, he admires the art and anatomy of all of them."

"Will he hurt them?"

"He'll hurt them the same way they hurt their prey to eat."

"I see..." You closed your eyes as you tried to visualize this human the lion mentioned. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't picture a human. You never saw anything above the water. You had no need to follow the mermaids as they hunted for prey. You had no need to ever venture above the known.

But a human...it was foreign to think that any living thing could ever set aside the primal instinct of life itself. So much so that they were willing to accept the creatures that deem them as prey.

"Why are you telling me about this human?"

"I want you to meet him."

A human named Laios, was it?

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

You sat on your coral throne as you watched the young mermaids play amongst themselves. You couldn't help but smile as one of the older mermaids scared them.

You held your hands close to your chest, and you sang your song. Some mermaids wove oriements into your your hair and lappets. They brushed out your clothing and adorned your head with a coral crown. Some of the mermaids sung, but never was it your song.

Songs are the passion of all mermaids.

Songs are the soul in each individual one. Despite the mutual respect you and the mermaids hold for each other, you aren't the same species. You have your melody, and they have their own. As much as they may love your voice, they would absolutely detest you if you tried to sing with them.

You held your hands up to your face as you thought of this. You wonder if humans were the same. The lion said they were the perfect beings to possess the ability to deny their instincts. Depsite being a mockery of sentience, you were also able to deny the instincts you were born with. If that's was makes something sapient then you are sure they would love to sing with you.

"The human sung?"

The mermaids in front of you seemed distressed as they waved their hands around, blowing rings in the water. One of them placed their head on your lap as they lamented the horrible voice of the human voice.

You couldn't help but chuckle as you pat her head. You never once heard of any surface dwellers trying to sing along with them. But as amusing as it was, you couldn't help sympathize with them.

Yet, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement at the fact that humans can sing along those foreign to them.

Not long after this, you heard that another surface dweller ate an undine.

"An undine?! Was it the same human?"

The mermaids shook their heads as they pointed to their ears.

"This one had long ears?"

The more they told you about this group of surface dwellers, the more you wanted to see for yourself.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

You never felt humiliation, pain, or defeat.

You were the monarch of sea within the dungeon. There was nothing that could best you underwater just as there was nothing you could not eat.

But above the surface, however, you didn't know if you held the same strength.

You were heavy—very, very heavy. You were bigger than any mermaid yet smaller than a kraken. you had thousands of lappets and hundreds of cloth woven by the mermaids. Your hair was abundant and adorned with millions of small oriements. Though you could reduce yourself to a smaller size, why do so when you're weightless underwater?

It was a dilemma you pondered for ages. The smaller you got, the less strength you possessed, and if you were too big, you wouldn't be able to move above water. You didn't want to be anywhere near where the mermaids usually reside. You didn't want to impede on their routine, nor did you wish to drag them into trouble if something were to happen. If you were looking for a location like that, there were little places you could emerge from. These places were also uncharted territory with how little any other aquatic species spent there.

But curiosity got the better of you, and so you swam up.

You stared for the longest at the water meeting the surface. You raised your hand to touch the small barrier separating the two. You closed your eyes as you thought about what the stories the lion and mermaids would tell you about the world above.

You took in a deep breath as you raised the top of your head above water. You felt the cold air on your forehead, and the light was blinding. You looked around as you saw a stone room—the same stone that made up the aquarium you called the sea. You pulled yourself on top of the stone flooring as you breathed lightly. It felt just as heavy as you had thought, but you didn't think you would be able to carry yourself with ease.

Just as you were acclimating to the change of environment, you heard footsteps coming from behind you. As quick as you went above, you went back into the water. You swam close to the surface as you warily looked through the ripples of the water.

You watched as a human male adorned in silver cloth ran close the water. You lowered yourself deeper into the water as he just briefly saw you.

"I swore I saw mermaid!"

Three others came along right behind as the long-eared female spoke up.

"Laios, there are no mermaids at this level of the dungeon, much less this area!—those mushrooms are making you hallucinate."

The longed-eared one, did she say Laios?

"Guys, I hear something in the water...."

Laios. Laios. Laios. Laios. Laios.

Laios was the one the lion told you about.

"Those mushrooms weren't hallucinogens! And there was a mermaid! This one was a different color! I always wondered if it was possible for monsters to be albino like regular animals we have on the island. It's possible that this mermaid is here because they were ostracized by the—"

You jumped out of the water and landed in front of the group of surface dwellers. You leaned down as you stared at the one adorned in silver cloth. He was smaller than expected; You thought he would be bigger than the mermaids, and he was, but only by a little.

"I never seen a mermaid that big!"

You turned to face the short–bearded man. You never thought surface dwellers could vary in size and shape. Most of the mermaids and mermen you saw were relatively the same in appearance.

"That's because that isn't a mermaid! This one seems to be a Scyphozoa demi-human varient judging by the tentacles."

The shortest one began to talk as he slowly walked backward, "Should we even be standing here waiting for it to attack?"

You snapped out of your daze as you remembered why you were here. You leaned even closer to what you presumed to be Laios and wrapped your hands around him.

"Huh?"

You caught a glimpse of the shape of the lion on his side, and it was then you knew that this, for sure was, Laios!

You lifted him up into the air as you twirled and jumped back into the water. You couldn't help but smile widely as you finally met the human the lion talked so highly about. You felt his body and were surprised by the sturdiness of the silver cloth. You were about to laugh at his puffed up cheeks when you remembered a crucial detail about surface dwellers.

You panicked as you hastily rose back up to the surface. You briefly loosened your grip on him as you felt the sudden decrease in pressure. As you did, he quickly used this to his advantage and got out his sword, and cut one of your hands.

"LAIOS!'

You let go out of him out of surprise, dropping him into the water. You looked at your hand as you saw blood oozing out. It wasn't often you were injured. It was also because of your lack of pain that there were many times when the mermaids noticed when you accidentally cut yourself when swimming near rocks or trident left by the mermen.

Remembering Laios, you dove back into the water to retrieve him. However, as you did so, the long–eared female ran up to you and tapped you with her staff.

You were surprised by her ability to walk on water, but you were even more so when you felt yourself get pushed out from the water.

You felt yourself choke.

Whatever that girl did to you, it made you sick. You struggled to balance yourself as you felt disoriented from seeing the water below you. You couldn't feel the water's blessing: You didn't feel safe. You saw Laios run up to you and cut some of your lappets.

Why would he hurt you?

"CHILCHUCK, AIM FOR THE NECK!"

Oh.

The look of determination and andrenalin you saw in their eyes was familiar. They thought you were going to eat them; just as you ate your prey, they thought you were going to kill them.

You struggled to sit up as you saw an arrow close in you.

This was your mistake. You should've conveyed your intentions clearly.

You covered your head as you dropped to the waters surface. You writhed on the surface, trying desperately to go back into the water. You tried destroying whatever separated you from your home, but no matter what you did, nothing worked.

Laios ran up to you with his sword, and he swung at your neck.

Just like underwater, in your domain, you felt time slow down.

Despite not being able to feel much pain, you certainly knew what areas of your body, once they began to bleed, would bring you death.

And he wanted to kill you.

But the look in his eyes wasn't of fear, nor was it out of the need to survive. It was something foreign, and it scared you.

You felt yourself breathe heavily as you became aware of the urgency of the situation.

"St—STAY BACK!!!"

Your voice reverberated, pushing all of them away.

This wasn't underwater.

You couldn't swim away, you couldn't use all of your strength, you couldn't avoid the attacks, you could hardly move, you felt sickly.

You should have been more prepared.

You felt the water briefly on your skin. As you saw the long–eared girl fall over, you felt yourself fall back into the water.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

For the longest time, you believed yourself to be similar to humans and all other surface dwellers.

That, unlike the mermaids, the mermen, the fish, the kraken, the giant crabs, and all monsters that fell into your waters; you could both interact with mutual understanding.

Despite your respect and love for the mermaids, you'll never be able to understand the gluttonous cannibalistic nature of theirs. You don't understand how they don't feel remorse in slaughtering the young mermen. You don't know how they eat more than their fair share.

Yes, you killed and brutalized monsters—but that was because they posed a danger to the rest of the ecosystem. They were just like you when you got intelligence. They were going to everything until there was nothing left. They were going to ruin everything. Besides, the only times you ate was when you fought those with the same gift as you. You couldn't bring yourself to eat something as innocent as the small critters in the dungeon.

You had to do it.

You weren't like the mermaids who gave into their sadistic, cannibalistic nature. You weren't like the mermen who thought of nothing other than to devour and reproduce. You weren't like kraken, who held a monstrous appearance without any hint of humanity. You didn't eat because you want to. You hated the taste flesh and blood; it is disgusting, filthy, and it brought extreme bouts of self–loathing.

You weren't a monster.

But they thought you were.

You sat your coral throne as you held your body close.

"Do I look like a monster?"

The lion stayed quiet for a long time. "You are far from what 'they' would consider sapient. Those mermaids of yours look far more human than you do."

You looked at your lappets. They were some as thin as veins, some a curly as frills, others as translucent as crystal. No other surface dweller has tendrils like these. Your skin is shades of blues, pinks, and purples: nothing like the shades of any humans the mermaids have described. Your ears weren't even natural—it was just remnant from when you became that monstrous sea serpent. Your nails were far too sharp: You were a jellyfish, you shouldn't even have nails. Nothing about you was normal: You didn’t resemble a single creature in this dungeon. You were an amalgamation of mistake after mistake, built upon an artificial creature.

"But not all of them are the same! There are some with long ears! Some are short and compact! Didn't you say that some live hundreds of years while others only sixty?! Like you said, they aren't all made equally! Not all of them are the same, right?! I can think and have desires besides the instincts I was born with! I may not be the same as them, but I am similar, right? So I—we should be able to understand each other! I—I don't—"

"You're fine the way you are."

You pulled on your hair; you wanted to pull it all out. Jellyfish don't have hair.

"Stop talking."

"You may not ever look nor ever become a true 'human', but that's what makes you extraordinary. You're the only being alive in this world to be loved by the sea and oceans itself to be blessed."

"I said to stay quiet!"

You wanted to rip your flesh out, to get all that blood out—jellyfish don't have either.

"You are evidence that monsters can gain humanity."

"SHUT UP!"

You wanted to do something but you don't know what.

"Oh, young child, you can cry if you so desire."

And so you cried for the first time in your hundreds of years of life.

You wish you had never desired to eat.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

The next time you would meet Laios, it would be when he nearly died.

You were resting on your coral throne; far away from any surface opening. You didn't want to go back up for another very long time. Leaning on the arm rest, covering your face with your hands, you watched as the mermaids tried to cheer you up. This was the first time any of them had seen their monarch sit in sadness. They didn't want to see their beloved monarch cry any longer.

Behind the coral throne were five mermaids; they were discussing what happened to their monarch to make them so sad. One of them piped up saying how they saw you go to the surface, and when you came back, you were bleeding. Out of concern and curiosity, they swam up to where you came from and saw four surface dwellers. They were with that detestable human that defiled their song. If they were with him, then they must have attacked you!

"W°e sh○uld br°ing ●ne ○f the•m her°e t○ all○w th°em t○ ge•t reve°n•g●!"

Imagine your surprise when you saw five mermaids holding an unconscious human male. One of them held the human in their arms as they struggled to swim up to your throne. You finally got up from your somber and flinched in surprise when you saw—

"Laios?"

You swam up and pulled him out of the mermaids arms: He felt limp in your arms. You brought his forehead towards yours as you looked at his face—he's alive.

You turned to the mermaid in confusion as you asked why they brought him here.

"Y○u w°ere sa•d ●•nd we° d○n't wa•nt t● se°e° y○u sa•d. Di°d we d○ s○me•thi•ng wr●ng?"

You wanted to scold them, you really did: However, you couldn't bring yourself to get mad at them. How were they supposed to know what was going through your mind? Besides, they didn't do this at of ill intent.

"No, you did just fine. However, I will have to handle this situation myself, so I'm afraid I'll have to depart temporarily. Please do tell your sisters not to leave the coral reef until I return."

You wrapped your arms around his body tightly when you saw the five mermaids leave. You sighed as you let go of him to grab his face. Though he is still alive, he wouldn't last much longer under in this state. You brought your lips towards his and placed a gentle kiss; You tried to share the water's blessing with him. If it worked as intended, it should help expell any water in his lungs the same way you and the mermaids do—at the very least, prevent any more water from entering his lungs.

You sighed, and so you swam towards the closet opening to the surface. You breached the water, and you pulled Laios onto the stone flooring—struggling to do so with how heavy the water made everything.

You fell on top of him in the struggle. You breathed heavily as you got up and sat yourself on the ledge. You looked over at him and wondered if he would wake up. Looking at him, you thought, since he was already unconscious when you found him, wouldn't he already have water in his lungs?

You panicked at the thought.

What to do, what to do, what do you even do? You never even met a creature who isn't even able to breathe under water, and now you have to save one.

"You may not have magic, but you have the water's blessing. As you did before to prevent the water from harming him, use it to draw out the water from his system."

You listened as the lion spoke from the back of your mind. You really didn't know if any of this would work. You grabbed the hem of his garment and raised it over his chest.

"Just imagine that the water is moving with your movements."

"How so?"

"You'll know."

You looked at Laios' abdomen and took a deep breath. You placed your finger right above his navel. Just as if you were going to cut him with your nail, you gently grazed his skin as you brought your finger up to his chest. You pushed your hand on his chest, and with your other hand, you stuck two fingers in his mouth.

"I'll know, I'll know, I'll know when I get there."

You felt the water brush your fingertips, and you pulled the water out of his mouth.

"Did that long–eared female also have the water's blessing? She was able to keep me from going in the water. "

"She had magic."

"Magic?"

"Yes, I believe we had this conversation once before, child of mi—" The lion was interrupted as Laios began to cough up the remaining water.

Startled, you froze, unknowing what to do. It was only when he suddenly sat up that you jumped back into the water. What if he tried to attack you like he did before? Not that you blame him or anything. regardless, you didn't wish to die from accidental blood loss — that's one thing the water's blessing doesn't help you with. You remained far away from the stone ledge as Laios gained consciousness.

You watched as he took off his shirt and gathered his armor. You watched as he questioned his surroundings and current predicament. You watched rather intently that you didn't even notice you were drifting closer.

Laios must have heard your lappets splashing around in the water because he turned to your direction. Making sudden eye contact surprised you enough to make you submerge back into the water.

"Wa—Wait!"

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

What Laios came to see was a mermaid with biological discoloration from typical mermaids. He wanted to know if it were possible for mermaids to have the mutuations regular animals do. So when Laios found a monster resembling both mammalian and pisces species, he wanted nothing more but to have a taste.

A mix of jellyfish, sea serpents, and mermaid, it was a newly discovered humanoid monster that not even the dungeon gourmet guide had known of! He wondered if each separate piece would taste similar to their monster counterpart or taste entirely like a new thing.

When the monster leaned over his party, he didn't expect it to suddenly pick him up. It held him up high, and he couldn't help but bubble up in amazement. Laois could see the many different colors and features he didn't see from the ground. Looking at it much more closely, he saw what previously thought was flesh was actually a form of clothing.

Laios wished he could examine every inch of this newly discovered monster, but that thought was quickly broken when the monster suddenly dragged him underwater. He really thought the monster was going to eat him when it opened its mouth, but imagine his surprise when instead, it swung him around with such force he really thought he would pass out. Feeling the monster's strength firsthand, he wondered what place you would have in the food chain.

When Marcille casted waterwalk on it, he couldn't help but cut some of the lappets for later consumption; He really hoped they didn't taste anything like cephalopds.

What none of them expected was for it to talk. It didn't sing like a mermaid nor roar like dragons, it actually spoke. It leaned back it covered its face with its arms and shouted.

"St—STAY BACK!"

Everyone was stunned by the intensity of the sound: Chilchuck and Marcille were hit the hardest. Laios couldn't help but wonder about the monsters choice of words. Did it truly know what those words meant, or was it simply replicating words it heard from previous prey?

But besides that, the Scyphozoa tentacles did taste better than cephalopds—that is, it didn't taste like anything at all. Though it was rather nice to chew on for stimulation. Senshi seemed to enjoy the texture; Marcille and Chilchuck refused because "it was morally wrong."

Laios just couldn't understand their reasoning. It's not like the sea monster was the same as them. It wasn't a tall–man, not an elf, and definitely not a half–foot. They don't even believe monsters like mermaids or mermen to even be sapient yet still refuse to eat them. What's the difference between eating cattle and monsters anyway? He really didn't understand them.

Monsters were....so much more than that. They eat, eat, and eat; They eat anything regardless of species or appearance. They didn't care about petty morale or rational—they ate to survive. There didn't think about tomorrow or of the fragile balance of life in the dungeon.

Monsters were truly a reflection of the flesh and instinct of all living things.

So why didn't that monster eat him when it had him underwater?

Did it know that he had armor and didn't want the struggle of trying to bite down? But why bring him back to the surface when it was the most physically strong underwater? Before it even grabbed him, why did it bother to look at them without doing anything, and why grab him?—Senshi was the closest one, and it went for Laios, who was much farther away

He got his answer when he woke up after being dragged underwater by a group of mermaids.

Alone in an unknown part of the dungeon, he was drenched in water, and his shirt was pulled up. Laios felt a chill running up when he felt how cold his shirt was. He took his shirt off and looked around to see his armor scattered. He swore he had his armor on.... His book!

Laios quickly stood up to try to find the book. He was happy to find it in perfect condition: The armor and layers must have protected the book from getting wet. He held the book to his bare chest when he heard the sound of splashing water. He turned around and saw the same monster that had nearly drowned him.

Did the monster save him by any chance? Before he could ask, the monster quickly submerged underwater.

"Wa—Wait!"

Laios ran up to the water and kneeled at the edge, trying to see where the monster went. The water was so much darker than he had thought, making it difficult to see. From the darkness, he could make out soft movements.

Slightly nervous, Laios called out, "I—Thank you for helping me!"

He didn't know what he was thinking when he said that. He didn't even know for certain if the monster helped him or just came by to eat him. Despite this, he continued, "I apologize for trying to kill you the other day! I didn't realize you were....."

Were what? Sentient? Self–aware?

"—trying to communicate with us! I should have realized you wanted to speak or converse in whatever language you speak!"

Laios placed his head on the ground as he hoped his apology would reach the monster. The more he thought about it, the more it wouldn't be likely that the monster would be able to speak his language. But then again, it speak their language back when he attacked it....

From a distance, he heard the monster come back up. Without moving from his position, he listened as the monster got closer and closer to him. He felt something cold hit his back, and again, again, and soon more droplets of water fell on top of him. Laios shivered as he suddenly sat up to only be faced with the monster.

"Do not feel the need to apologize. I am to blame—it was due to my insolent behavior that caused you and your companions to attack me. So, for that, I apologize."

Laios froze: It wasn't fear or dread that caused him to do so—it was out of pure admiration. He really wanted to inspect this creatures anatomy!

"Your tentacles felt really nice to chew on, so no need to apologize."

The look of confusion on the monster's face told him that he probably shouldn't have said that.

"—I mean! We had your tentacles from when I cut them, and you were gone, and why leave them there to waste away when we could've eaten them! Besides, you tasted really good with seasoning and, like I said, were nice to chew on!"

He should have just drowned.

The humanoid monster brought a hand to their face and closed their eyes in thought. "You ate me, but how is that so? I'm still here, after all."

Laios was now confused.

"We ate the tentacles I cut off when we—I attacked you."

"You ate my lappets that you cut off... without killing me....Is it possible to eat prey without bringing them to death?"

"Yes! As long as they don't suffer any critical injuries, they'll be able to survive."

You raised another hand to cover your face as you laughed. This human, Laios, was trying to kill you due to a misunderstanding, kidnapped and almost drowned by mermaids, saved by you, and now telling you how good you tasted. You wondered how it is that he's able to converse with you after the fact. Did he truly have no ill will towards monsters? Was the lion right about his passion for monsters?

"Like the mermaids, did you eat because of desire and pleasure? Or was it because of the need to survive?"

You wanted to know, did humans have the same primal nature like the mermaids, or were they like you: unwilling to eat unless you desperately needed it.

"I ate your tentacles because I really wanted to know what it would taste like. So, I guess I ate because I desired too and found pleasure in knowing what you would taste like."

You didn't say anything. You stared at him for a few seconds before lowering yourself at eye level with him. "My name is (y/n), I am the monarch of the mermaids and arbitor of the dungeon's waters. Just who might you be?"

You knew his name; You knew him more than he knew about you. But as things stand, you didn't want to surprise Laios with any more surprises.

Laios gave you a smile as he held out his hand. "My name is Laios Touden."

You looked at his hand in confusion. Was this a type of human custom? Before you could react, he reached for your hand and shook it. His hand was smaller than yours, though not by much.

You couldn't help but smile ever so slightly as you brought your hand to your chest. "So, then Laios, would you like to accompany me underwater?"

Laios gleamed in excitement, but that quickly faded when he realized his current predicament. He was shirtless, away from his party, couldn't breathe underwater, and had limited time to find Falin.

"I—"

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Laios gave in.

He told you about his need to find his party: You said you could find them easily if they were near a water source, whether it be a fountain or open body of water. He told you about his inability to breathe underwater. After he said this, you smiled as you asked him if he would allow you to pick him up, to which he agreed.

"I am able to bless you the water's blessing. The blessing will allow you to breathe underwater, albeit temporarily."

Before Laios could ask how being blessed worked, you brought his face closer to his and kissed him. Laios felt himself blush hard, especially when you accidentally bit him. He really wanted to feel the inside of your mouth.

When Laios collected his belongings, you asked him to strip out of his clothing.

"—so I can absorb most of the water. I'll be able to keep your items dry under my lappets. They'll be able to form pockets of air to keep them safe from the harsh dungeon waters."

Once you did that, you asked for his pants to which he asked if that could done once they found his group—though he had his quirks, being naked all the way for a long period of time was not one of them.

And with that, you wrapped your arms around him and pressed him close to your chest. Raising one hand to hold his, you submerged underwater.

The underwater half of the dungeon was something that remained a mystery. Even to avid researchers, the deep waters were something very few were willing to dare venture below; and those that were willing rarely ever resurfaced. So, to have the chance to safely voyage the water with the self–proclaimed monarch of mermaids was an opportunity Laios was thankful to have.

Just as Laios had thought, it was as amazing as he had hoped. Clinging onto your back, he watched as the scenery around him changed into something more magical. Though not as boundless as the sea and oceans, it was a sight to behold. The artificial ocean was almost a mirror to the dungeon above: hallways and corridors along all sides of the wall. Paintings everywhere with no coherent thought. Plants growing without discrimination. Luminescent monsters never seen before roaming the floor. It was truly something Laios wished he had the time to venture.

"If I may be so rude to ask, are you the human who had sung with the mermaids some time ago? "

Laios was surprised by how different you sounded in water. He thought about the question for a second. The mermaids, the ones who swam away when he tried to sing with them, they must have been your mermaids. "Human?" That was a new term; you must have confused him with something else. But, before he opened his mouth to speak, he couldn't help but hesitate. It was against his instincts to do so, but he decided to trust you. If he could breathe underwater, then surely he'll be able to speak.

"Yes, I wanted to sing with them to see if we could somehow communicate! It took me a while to learn their song without being entranced, but considering they sing the same song every time, it wasn't too difficult—"

You suddenly spun around, having him rest on your stomach. You held both his hands as you looked at him sternly. "Laios, though I understand your desire to sing with the mermaids, I ask that you don't try to do so in the future. You see, mermaids have their own culture much you do: part of that culture is their melody. So, to have an outsider sing that song that song so carelessly makes them uncomfortable. Even if that song is used to kill those of your kind, I ask that you please respect their wishes."

Laios looked away sheepishly as he apologized. You gleamed with joy and hugged him tight as you spun around.

"What about you? Do you sing the same song as the mermaids, or do you have your own?"

"Ah! Well, the mermaids and I aren't the same race or species, and due to that, I'm unable to sing their song as it deserves to be sung."

"But do you?"

"I—I do, but it's not a song that can be sung often. Blessed by the water, I was bestowed a melody orchestrated for a monarch."

"Can you sing it right now?"

"Perhaps another day."

The lion was right. He yearned to understand much about monsters. As you two ventured towards where his party was located, Laios asked you many questions about the monsters that you'd past by. You obliged, and you told him many of the stories of the aquariums: from the many mermaids who lived in under your rule to the oysters and jellyfish that used to roam the waters. Laios asked: You answered.

The only thing you didn't appreciate was how much he was touching you. Laios kept grabbing you wherever you weren't covered by cloth and squeezed you slightly: pulling on your lappets, ears, and hair. It was when he decided to bite your lappets that you stopped him.

Flustered and full of mixed emotions from the sensation of his teeth on your skin, you scolded him. Laios apologized, but what was he supposed to do? He was faced with a new monster never seen before, and he was supposed to not touch it?

"Laios, do humans have an aquarium as large as this up outside the dungeon?" You asked out of pure curiosity. Never once had the lion told you about the terrain outside the dungeon. You wondered if the walls or flooring were of the same stone from the dungeon. You wondered if the surface's aquarium was limited as it was in the dungeon's waters.

Laios let go of your shoulders as he sat up. Placing a hand under his chin, he pondered how to answer your question. "Outside the dungeon..... the sea and oceans are endless. Here, underwater, you can look straight ahead and see the end of a room. It's small and crowded: not ideal conditions for the survival of the monsters here. Unlike the dungeon, the oceans are boundless; I can look straight ahead in the ocean and see no end. There's so many more monsters and animals in the ocean that comparing the dungeon's artificial sea to the outside isn't even reasonable."

"There aren't any walls outside?"

"No walls other than those from buildings."

An aquarium without being bound by stone walls. More monsters and species not limited by the confinement of the aquarium. Boundless: It was a word you were unfamiliar with. All you ever knew was limited, bound by the knowledge the lion was willing to spare and the fear to even leave the water.

"How I would love to see these oceans and seas one day."

Laios all of sudden dropped all his weight on your back. He wrapped his arms around your waist and squeezed tight. "I want monsters and people to live alongside each other. When I become dungeon master, I promise to show you the ocean."

You remained silent for a while, contemplating the implications of what he just said: "Dungeon master." As you reached the opening closest to his companions. You jumped out of the water and onto the stone flooring. Letting go of his belongings; Laios jumped off your back. You watched as he began to put on the rest of his garments. You watched as he adorned himself in the silver cloth, just like the knight from the stories the lion told you. You watched sadly as you realized this is where you two depart. You watched his every move; watching as he wrote in his book. Despite this heavy feeling on your heart, you couldn't help but want to smile. Though your first meeting was a catastrophe, you're quite satisfied that you were able to mend your misunderstandings with one another.

"I look forward to the day you keep your promise."

Before you knew it, Laios was gone, and you were once again alone with nothing else but the mermaids.

Bound by the water, unable to leave the dungeon: You forgot to ask if he thought of you as a monster.

Thank you for reading part one of "The Flesh, Blood, Bone, Heart and Soul."

snapshots. [—chilchuck tims]

TAGS / WARNINGS: gender neutral reader, modern au,       minor pining, background marcille/falin WC: 1,000 NOTE: divorced father of 3 save me... save me       divorced father of 3...

✗ MINORS / AGELESS / BLANK BLOGS DNI.

“Move over.”

Chilchuck’s voice startles you. The bowl in his hands is steaming: a hearty stew made with Falin and Marcille’s collective effort—(“Senshi’s tried and true recipe!”). A thick slice of bread perches on its rim. It smells just as heavenly as it did at dinner.

“Here?” you ask, stupefied. The armchair you’ve claimed is wide; there’s easily enough space to fit a Chilchuck-sized person, but your mind jumps—unbidden—to the reason he’d been late in the first place.

“Where else?” He nudges you with his knee. “As if I’m gonna sit near that love-fest over there.”

“You’re not welcome anyways,” Marcille tuts, midway through dipping the maraschino cherry from her sundae into Falin’s mouth.

“This is my apartment!”

You concede with a laugh: it’s just your bruised heart working overtime. The moment his body settles, shoulders touching, you stop being able to taste the ice cream Laios had scooped into your bowl. Existence narrowing to that point of contact with a familiar little rush.

It’s Laios’ turn to choose tonight’s movie, much to Marcille’s dismay—(“A documentary classifies! This is a really interesting one!”)—and he scrolls to find it as Chilchuck digs into his food.

Midway through, you engage him in a thrilling mock-battle of fencing spoons. Falin dozes, lulled from the careful stroke of Marcille’s fingers through her hair. By the time the credits roll, they’re folded onto each other, soft snores drowned out by music.

“They fell asleep again,” Chilchuck drawls, chin cushioned against his hand.

“Must be crashing after all that sugar,” Laios suggests, drapes a blanket over them.

“They were pretty high energy tonight. Eager to hear about how Chilchuck’s date went, I guess,” you tease, taking up the mantle with Marcille fast asleep. “You didn’t even tell us her name.” Keeping the tone casual despite the haunting little pit in your stomach.

(It’d been a shock to hear about it: for as long as you’ve known him, Chilchuck has been eager to keep his life private—even from long-time friends. And there’d been no signs of anyone—except you and your little group—coveting his time and attention; no extra, unexplained toothbrushes, no brands you don’t recognize in his pantry, no missed get-togethers.)

“Huh?” He gives you a look, confusion twisted in his features. The TV’s light illuminates a silver hair. “I wasn’t with any girl.”

Your brow furrows. “…His name? Their name?”

Chilchuck stares. This close—where the minuscule twitches in his expression are noticeable—it’s strangely evaluating.

“You know Marcille was joking when she said it was a date, right?” Heat sears along your cheekbones; embarrassment flushing hot under his gaze—the realization of your mistake.

“Of course I knew,” you say stupidly. Chilchuck’s eyebrow quirks. “Shut up. Don’t look at me like that.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Well, then if it wasn’t a date, who were you with?”

“Senshi,” he says. “He was—we, uh,” his eyes slide off to the side, “I asked him for a favor.”

“Oh?” you hum, relief and mirth creating a warm hum behind your ribs. “Looking to get a side hustle as a cook?”

“Not even close,” he grunts, looking away.

“Should we start calling you our little master chef?” You nudge him with a grin.

“Chilchuck is already quite good at cooking,” Laios pipes up without taking his eyes off the screen. “Maybe he’ll learn to make something else after mastering ramen.”

“Hey—”

“Ramen?” you ask, head tilting. “Like, the instant kind?”

Chilchuck splutters. “No!”

“From scratch!” Laios beams. “Senshi’s said he’s been making really good progress since his first day.”

“Oh?” you grin. “Our little master chef is gonna open a ramen shop?”

“Shut up. No way. Not ever,” Chilchuck grumbles, the high curve of his ear a soft pink.

“I hope you’ll make it for us one day—I love ramen,” you say. “Very tedious, though, so I’ve never done it myself.”

His face scrunches, mouth pursing together like he wants to speak, but doesn’t. His cheeks puff with air, releasing as a long, quiet sigh.

“Oh, hey, so after ramen”—you lean a hand on the chair’s opposite arm, boxing him in with a cheeky little smile—“you should look into French onion soup. It’s probably easier than ramen but caramelizing the onions takes so long—”

“You—!” he leans back, shoulders tense and eyes wide. “Don’t go making requests before I’ve even cooked anything decent.”

“Why not? I bet it’ll be great! You’re good with your hands, so soup is probably a piece of cake for you.” You watch—with no small amount of pleasure—as Chilchuck’s face flushes with vivid color.

“Get away from me,” he mumbles, but his tone is so insincere all you do is laugh. He knocks a loose fist against the inside of your elbow. A surprised noise jumps out; you retreat back against the chair, rubbing the spot.

“Mmh?” Marcille rouses with a sleepy hum. “What’re you requestin’?”

“Chilchuck is making us ramen,” you joke, relishing the way he knocks an admonishing leg against yours. “He’s our little master chef.”

“Oh, yeah. Did Laios end up spilling the beans?” Marcille yawns. Falin stirs, eyes fluttering. “Congratulations, you two.”

Chilchuck goes stiff beside you. “What do you mean?” you ask.

Marcille pauses, head tilting with a drowsy look of confusion. “Huh? Didn’t you ask why he’s learning to make it?” she asks. Falin tugs her sleeve.

You blink. “No. Should I have?” Marcille doesn’t respond right away, head bent to put an ear by Falin’s mouth, expression pinched as they whisper. Then, with a sigh, she reaches up to stretch.

“No. Never mind. Forget I said anything.” Laios is quick to grab her attention.

“Hey, so are you actually opening a ramen shop?” you whisper to Chilchuck.

“You’re such an airhead,” he grunts against his palm.

“I’m great,” you reply. His eyes meet yours, holding your gaze. When next he speaks, his voice is soft—acquiescing easily to your jest.

“Guess you are.”

Natsume has 3 types of outfits :

1 : soft aesthetic pinterest photoshoot

2 : bruh city dude

3 : middle aged mom working at the administration