Star-spacer - Distant Stars Hold My Wishes For You

Mushi-shi x Mitski

<3

sir..

Some toy pokemon doodles I worked on a while ago (including the rough draft of my slinky shinx I uploaded earlier this year)

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

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......

when the sun came up (i was looking at you)

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x fem reader

word count: 4.8k

summary: your poisoning in the woods and everything that comes after

content: angst + hurt/comfort. reader is poisoned which leads to aggression/hallucination; she gets restrained. general near death experience content ?

notes: title from out of the woods by taylor swift. these guys are NEVER escaping the trauma of the woods loll

The door slams inward, and the entire Apollo cabin goes silent.

There’s about ten campers inside, a few of them clustered around the cot in the center of the room. Every single one of them turns to face Luke with the same look painted on their faces.

Panic.

“Where is she?”

They part like the Red Sea, avoiding his eyes and scrambling to disperse throughout the room. Luke’s on autopilot, his eyes darting around the room for any familiar face as he pushes past those who don’t get out of the way fast enough.

A girl named Mary - or Maria? - is sitting by the window. She looks quickly down at her feet when he catches her eye. Beck blinks wide eyed at him as he side steps out of his line of fire.

(Something out in the forest. Screaming that could be heard from three cabins down. Uncontrollable aggression.)

“Luke,” Miles says, the only one brave enough to stand in front of him. He plants a firm hand on his shoulder, his brows knitted together. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”

His hand gets shoved off immediately. Luke can’t believe what he’s saying to him — the disapproval in Miles’ voice at his presence in the cabin. He scoffs, trying to cool down the anger that threatens to flare up.

Hyperthermia, someone else had said. It doesn’t take a child of Athena to know the risks of it. You’re somewhere nearby, in pain, and Miles has the gall to tell Luke he shouldn’t be looking for you.

Luke’s badly contained temper comes back with a vengeance.

“You should fucking know better. She’s my…” Luke’s breath shakes as he inhales. “She’s my best friend.”

Miles wilts and turns to his siblings, looking for backup. Not a single one meets his eyes. He’s torn in half, clearly fighting with himself over something.

(“Luke.” Warmth around his wrist. Your hand. “Please hold me.”

Red palms. Your dried blood between the creases on his hands — the lines you’d trace while half asleep, leaning against his shoulder while trying to get some rest.

The coldness of your hands. Chocolate bars so rich you have trouble eating. The suffocating sterility of the hospital.

The entire goddamn state of Pennsylvania.

Luke won’t do it again.)

“Tell me where she is,” he snaps, his voice bordering on a snarl.

Luke Castellan is not above begging.

It’s quiet. Miles’ siblings are staring at the two of them, unashamed. Luke can see the guilt in all of their eyes.

The younger boy is frowning. “We’re not supposed to—”

“So what?” he grits out. “Do you expect me to sit around while she’s fucking dying?” Miles is silent, and Luke scoffs. He turns to the rest of the campers, his gaze sharp enough to hurt. They remain quiet.

“If none of you tell me, I’m going out there to find her myself.”

Miles is frowning. Luke turns his back on him. “Wait, Luke—”

“The river by the strawberry fields.”

It’s one of the older Apollo kids. Luke’s known him for a while, and he couldn’t be more grateful. The boy, Carter, is sitting on the cot that his siblings had been crowding around earlier. There’s a cut over his eyebrow and he’s clutching a bag of ice to his cheek. When his hand drops, Luke can see the tell-tale signs of new bruising.

“She’s hyperthermic,” a girl next to Carter confirms after she glances at Miles wearily. “Whatever got her out there was poisonous. We couldn’t break her fever.”

“A few of them just left for the river,” someone else offers. “It’s the coldest source of water nearby. They have to help her cool down, or else…”

She trails off, but she doesn’t need to continue for Luke to understand. The pity is rolling off her in waves.

What should be a comfort offers him nothing but the realization that it’s all real. You really are dying, so sick that the Apollo kids are at a loss of what to do. This isn’t another night terror — a messed up idea his mind has come up with to torture him.

It’s real. And this time, waking up won’t save him from it.

He can only hope he looks as grateful as he feels when he mutters out his thanks.

“Luke,” your friend Liza calls before he can get too close to the door.

She’d done your hair for you just last week, perfectly woven braids you’d shown him with a grin. When he faces her now, there are unshed tears in her eyes. “You need to be careful. She’s- not herself. And she’s scared.”

Uncontrollable anger. The red mark on Carter’s face is beginning to make more sense.

The other kids standing around the cabin give Luke tentative looks, although he’s not sure why. Do they expect him to cower at the thought of you hurting him? Surely they should know by now.

He turns away from them and starts in the direction of the river.

—

It’s not that far, just a left out of the Apollo cabin and about a five minute walk towards the woods. If he goes fast, he knows he’ll catch up with you in no time.

The short distance is why Luke hears you before he sees you.

As he gets closer to the river, the quiet sounds of nature are drowned out by the words of the Apollo kids standing over you.

“Ah, shit— Lucy, hold her.”

“Gods, I really don’t want to, but if this is going to work, we’re going to need to—”

The girl gets cut off by a scream. A warped plea ripping itself from your throat.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” another voice says in pity, and the fear that’s wrapped itself around Luke’s chest begins to constrict his lungs.

He’s by the water before he can even realize that he started running. There’s only three healers here, but the way they’re huddled around you still manages to block you from view.

He has to remind himself to breathe, to continue inhaling and exhaling so he doesn’t pass the fuck out.

In.

(Three jagged lines, angry and red hot.)

Out.

(Pus oozing from the gapes made in marred skin.)

In.

(Cold to the touch. The weight of your unconscious body on his back.)

Out.

It’s stupid. They’re trying to save your life, trying to keep you from cooking yourself from the inside out, but Luke takes the closest Apollo kid by the back of their shirt and drags them behind him, breaking the iron tight ring of people hiding you from view.

Your hands are bound.

Golden fabric circles your wrists, locking your arms behind your back. The girl, Lucy, has both of your legs secured under an arm while she tries to work another strip around your ankles.

Luke sees red.

He bites back the venom threatening to spill from his mouth.

These girls are young, he tries to remind himself through the anger that’s burning hot in his chest. They’re scared too.

He drops to his knees, hands moving immediately for your bindings. The same hands that have held him through nightmares and his mother’s fits are locked together and held by your own weight into the dirt.

Your shoulder is inches away from his hand when Luke is yanked backwards harshly. It feels like an electric current shakes his skull when his head hits the stones lining the river.

“Luke,” Casey, the girl he pulled away, says his name frantically. His vision is swimming, but he pushes himself up onto his forearms despite the ringing in his ears that tells him to stay down. “We really didn’t want to, but she’s getting violent, she—”

When the world comes into slight focus, he can see the unmistakable footprint shape pressed into the front of her t-shirt. Maya, the girl by your head that’s trying to help Lucy ease you into the water, has a raw scratch going down the expanse of her arm.

Despite your bindings, you’re putting up a fight. You lock your knees before thrashing out, knocking Lucy back a few inches as you try to jab Maya in the nose with the back of your head.

“It’s everywhere!”

It takes Luke a second to even recognize your voice as your own. It sounds like your larynx has been shredded, the usual cadence of your voice unrecognizable to his ears.

Casey doesn’t bother trying to push him back down when he surges forward for you.

It’s the first good look he’s gotten of you since this morning. You’d eaten breakfast together like always, your knees knocking against his whenever you got super into the story you were telling him and Chris.

When it was over, some of your friends ended up dragging you away for the rest of the day. There was an apologetic grin on your face as you waved at him from across the pavilion.

He should’ve gone with you. Should’ve, should’ve, should’ve.

His fingers are already working to loosen the knots at your wrists when he remembers he should say something. “Killer, it’s me,” he says, trying to tamper down the waver in his voice.

The golden fabric falls limply to the ground. The skin below it is rubbed raw from your thrashing, and the sight makes Luke want to empty his stomach. He tries meeting your gaze, but your eyes are squeezed shut, your face turned away from him as you sob.

You need to calm her down, Luke thinks to himself. Stressing her out is going to worsen everything. Calm her down.

He thinks about his nightmares, about the sweat sticking his shirt to his back and to his bedsheets. You’ve helped him through it countless times, what feels like every night since his quest.

You had seemed so sure of yourself from the very start, like brushing his hair from his face and knowing exactly what to say was second nature to you. He’d hold you on those nights and fall asleep to the feeling of your gentle exhales against his chest. Luke doesn’t know a place safer than with you in his bed, one of your arms thrown over him and the rest of you tangled together.

Luke clenches his hands, trying to will the shaking away. He doesn’t know how to do that for you, and it makes hatred fester in his chest.

He pushes stray strands of hair away from your face before moving to untie the fabric at your ankles. The other girls have long backed away by now, know that trying to stop him would be useless.

You’re quiet. Painfully so. But the moment your legs are free, you move like you’re being fueled by fire. Luke barely dodges the swipe you make at his face as you kick your leg out in a wide arc. He flattens himself against the ground, and you wrestle yourself on top of him, your legs curling around one of his and locking him against the dirt.

He’d taught you how to do this.

Lucy lets out a startled gasp, and Casey moves forward to drag you off of him, but he holds up a firm hand, the message clear.

Stop.

You waste no time. Your hands string around his neck, constricting in a way that's sure to leave bruises. Your eyes had been pressed firmly shut earlier, but now they’re blown wide. The sclera of your eyes are red and aflame, and your constricted pupils are swallowed up by the color of your irises.

Your face is devoid of any emotions. You don’t recognize him.

As the airflow to his lungs slows, it would make sense for his adrenaline to propel him upwards, to get him to wrestle you to the ground and pin your arms. He’s done it before and could do it again, despite how difficult you make it.

But there’s another part of his brain that’s taking over, dragging him away from his instincts to protect himself.

Because it’s you.

The same way his natural battle instincts have been hardwired into his brain, it’s like his body has a visceral reaction to being with you, to hold you in his hands and shelter you from everything else.

Luke rubs soothing circles into the backs of the hands that are wrapped around his throat. They’re searing hot.

“Kill-er,” the syllables are stilted, coming out intermittently whenever he can manage to get air through. He’s surprised he can even speak right now, knowing the strength that courses through your veins. If you’d wanted him to, he’d be down for the count.

You’re going easy on him.

He moves his hands off of yours to hold the back of your head. Sweat runs down from your forehead, your body working tirelessly to cool you down. Your wild eyes dart across his face frantically, taking him in for what seems like the first time. Confusion and recognition is flickering across your face.

It’s then when Luke sees the puncture wound on your neck, the mark green and sickly and throbbing at your pulse point. He brushes hair away from your face.

The grip around his neck begins to loosen slightly, and he takes in as much oxygen as he can through his gasp for air. He takes your hands in his again and squeezes once.

“It’s me, sweetheart. It’s Luke.”

The tension you’re using to lock his legs into place dissipates. You blink hard, like you’re trying to come back to yourself.

He should throw you off of him now, he knows he should. Your hands are no longer tight around his throat, and the heat of your body where it's pressed against his is unbearable.

“Luke,” you rasp. “Luke.”

“It’s me, it’s me,” he mumbles, the relief pouring through the cracks. He lets go of your hands to run a soothing hand down your back. The back of your shirt is soaked through with sweat.

Your face cracks. You lean down close to him, your face curling in anguish.

“Luke, they’re everywhere.” Your voice is quiet, like you’re trying to tell him a secret no one else can hear.

He nods before he knows why. “I know, I know. It’s why we need to take you to the water. It’ll help, killer, I promise.”

You’ve gone a little boneless, your arms giving in as you collapse against him. The heat emanating from your skin is growing oppressive, and he knows he needs to move. “I can feel them, Luke. It’s everywhere.”

“I’m sorry, I know,” he says again, heaving you upwards. One of his hands goes to the back of your head as the other secures itself around your lower back. He repeats his words into your hair as he inches both of you closer to the water.

He’s going to have to let you go. Letting you cling onto his body heat isn’t doing you any favors, but he finds his fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt when you wind yourself around him.

Hold her, everything in him seems to say.

So he does.

“Luke,” someone says, snapping him out of your orbit. It’s Casey, standing ankle deep in the water in front of him. He’d almost forgotten anyone else was here. Maya and Lucy look on from the grass with matching concerned expressions. “You have to hurry. There’s not much time.”

There’s a water nymph standing a few feet in fromt of them — this must be her river. She’s cocking her head at you curiously, and when Luke sucks in a broken inhale at the sudden drop in temperature, he knows it’s her doing.

The fabric of his pants gets soaked through with the icy water immediately, but he sinks deeper into the river despite it. You jolt in his arms the second the water comes up to your chest.

“Luke,” you sob, your grip around his shoulders growing painfully tight. “I can’t, I can’t, I—”

He pries your face out of the crook of his neck regardless of the way you’re protesting.

Luke is shivering. You are far from it. You’re even making it worse, trying to wrap yourself around him even with the heat that’s threatening to kill you.

When he knocks his forehead against yours, he says your name, your real name, with as much force as he can muster.

“Do you trust me?”

Luke has no idea what tricks your mind is playing on you. He doesn’t know if the poison will take five minutes or ten hours to leave your system, and has no idea if this water will even help you. Your organs could fail in an hour and this entire thing would have been pointless. He could be lying to you right now, giving you false hope that he can fix it all. But pressed so close to you, he watches as your eyes dilate, and he knows that you’ve placed your trust in him.

The tears that have collected in your eyes spill over, running in rivulets down your face. He wipes them away with careful hands as you slump in his arms. Luke presses another kiss onto the high point of your cheek.

He works to unwind your arms from around his neck, and you groan like it physically pains you. He’s mumbling apologies the entire time, laying you on your back as the salt of your tears mixes with the freshwater of the river.

He knows he shouldn’t be touching you, shouldn’t be giving you another source of heat, but you give him a look that breaks his heart when he tries to loosen your hold on his wrist. He folds. He leaves a comforting hand against your shoulder blades as he scoops water to pour over your head.

He doesn’t stop until he hears your teeth chattering from the cold.

Luke doesn’t torture you with the distance any longer. When Casey gives him a look of approval, he tilts you upward to pull you back into his chest. You fit perfectly into the dip of his shoulder, and he holds the back of your head as close to him as physically possible.

The two of you sit there and listen to the sound of the shifting water around you until your skin begins to prune. He holds you there, feeling your steady heartbeat against his until his breathing evens out.

—

Your hands are cold again.

Luke remembers how they had felt when he had sat by your hospital bed and tried not to cry.

But this time, the cold is comforting. You’re not burning up anymore, your body no longer threatening to swallow you whole.

He had Carter check your temperature. And then check it again fifteen minutes later. Your temperature is a perfectly healthy 98 degrees fahrenheit.

He watches your chest rise and fall underneath the blankets. And then he presses his hand against it just to make sure it isn’t a trick of the light.

He cares about you. A lot. But he knows you’re going to drive him crazy with worry by the time you’re both twenty-five.

Luke sits with a towel wrapped around his shoulders as various Apollo kids come in and out to check on you. It’s not that he doesn’t trust them, but being more than fifty feet away from you isn’t something he thinks he can stomach right now.

He would’ve probably sat in his drenched clothes all day if someone hadn’t threatened to kick him out for dripping water all over the floors. Chris had come by to drop off a change of clothes from the cabin, and had left him with warm sweatpants and the hoodie he had given you a long time ago. There were paint stains on the sleeves from that one time the Apollo kids had dragged him into crafts with the younger campers, and the edge of one of the sleeves had long since worn away with age.

It was your favorite of his, oddly enough. He was more likely to find it draped on your frame than on his.

(“Hey, Castellan,” Chris had joked the first time you’d stolen it from him. “Nice outfit.”

You’d grinned, prodding him with the point of your shoe. “Think I wear it better?”

You did.

For the rest of the night, Luke wondered why he felt so weird after Chris had referred to you with his last name.)

He puts the hoodie aside for you and sits in the plain shirt offered to him earlier instead. The fabric of the sweatshirt smells like you now. It’s not his anymore.

Someone clears their throat from behind him. He turns to find Casey leaning against one of the beams, staring at the two of you with something swimming in her eyes. “The poison’s run its course. She’s on the mend.”

“Right,” Luke says. He’s too tired to say much else, and he’s still bitter about the way he had found you, sobbing with your wrists tied around your back. He’s trying hard not to be angry at them, so he avoids looking at the injuries left behind on your skin. “Thanks.”

She doesn’t move from her spot, watching and observing. Luke waits for her to spit out whatever it is she wants to say.

“You’re lucky, Luke.”

He fights the urge to scoff. ‘Lucky’ is probably the last word Luke Castellan would use to describe himself. If he was really lucky, you’d be sitting by the lake with him and he’d be rubbing sunscreen over your back so you wouldn’t get burned. “I’m lucky that my best friend almost died?”

She purses her lips. “That’s not what I meant.”

Your light breathing rustles the thin sheet over you and he slips his hand into yours. Traces the veins at your wrist.

“I meant that you’re lucky to have each other. I can tell the two of you are close.”

He wants to laugh. Close. Luke wants to think that after a lifetime of having each other, you’d be considered something more than close.

“She wouldn’t have made it, if you hadn’t shown up.”

He had known that, of course. But hearing her say it out loud makes it too real. You’d almost died. Again.

“I know Miles kind of chewed you out earlier, so I’m here to apologize on his behalf. You’re a really good guy, Luke.”

He turns to face her. Her red curly hair is messy, like the stress of the day has worn her down.

Luke finds his lingering irritation dissolving. She’s just a kid.

He nods at her and decides to not acknowledge her compliment. “Thanks for apologizing.”

She turns on her heel quickly, shutting the door behind her.

“I am pretty lucky.”

Luke can’t turn around faster. You squeeze his hand three times and he feels the weight on his chest lifted.

“Sorry that I keep doing this to you.”

You’re halfway smiling. He smiles, too, even though he feels dead on his feet.

He drops half of his face into your stomach, and you move to scratch at his scalp. He sighs. You smell like the cool freshwater of the river.

“Yeah. You should be sorry.”

You sit up before he can protest and kiss the mess of curls on top of his head. You don’t seem to mind how they’re damp and gross, threading your fingers through them and dragging your nails in that way you do.

Luke wants to hold you forever and hurt anything that’s ever looked at you wrong. He wonders how you’d feel if he went back into the forest and sent whatever did this to you back into Tartarus with his bare hands.

“I’m never letting you go out into the woods ever again,” he says instead.

“Oh?”

“You’re living up to your nickname, killer. Each of these hospital trips takes a decade off my life, you know.”

“My bad.”

He drags your hand out of his hair to slot your fingers together. “If I ever catch you in here again, I’m killing you myself.”

“Duly noted.”

“I’m serious. If I see you within thirty feet of this cabin again, you’re in for it.”

You laugh, light and sweet. You do your mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

He doesn’t get up from where he’s laying on your chest, and you don’t move an inch for a while.

“Thank you, Luke,” you say after a bit. “I would’ve been dead, like a decade ago, if you weren’t around. You do so much for me.”

He squeezes your hand. “I’d do anything for you. I’d even let you strangle me a hundred more times.”

You sit up abruptly, and Luke knows he’s fucked up.

“What?”

Your hand goes under his chin and you force him upwards before he can stop you. You tug the neckline of his shirt down and he tries to protest, but he hears you gasp and knows it's too late. He can’t see your expression with the way you’re inspecting the column of his neck, but you are silent the entire time.

“Gods, Luke…” You say after a while. Your hand drops quickly to your lap like just the sight of the bruising has burned you. “I tried to- tried to kill you. I didn’t realize what I was doing. I’m so… I didn’t know-”

He shakes his head, meeting your gaze head on. You’ve started tearing up again, your eyes trained on the splotches of purple around his throat. “Wasn’t your fault. Don’t even imply that shit. You weren’t yourself, do you understand?”

Your hand is limp in his when he reaches for it. The two of you sit in the quiet of the Apollo cabin again, listening to the sounds of the stray campers that walk past the windows outside.

“I can’t believe I did that. I deserve to be locked up. I’m a monster for doing that to your pretty skin,” you say absentmindedly.

Luke cracks a smile. He thinks he’d let you drive a knife through his heart and still say it wasn’t your fault.

“I didn’t understand what was happening. But I could… feel everything.”

He runs a hand up your leg, soothingly. “You don’t have to—”

“No, it’s fine.” You shake your head. “I couldn’t really see ‘cause my vision was all screwed up. But I wasn’t scared.”

“I was,” he admits readily, squeezing your thigh.

If one of you dies first, he hopes it’s him. He’s had a taste of you dying twice already and isn’t sure what would happen to him if he had to watch it really happen.

“I wasn’t. ‘Cause I could feel you,” you say. You’re looking right at him but seem so far away. “I could hear your voice, but I couldn’t tell if it was you. But I knew you were with me when you were stroking my head like you do when you try and put me to sleep. And I wasn’t scared anymore.”

Luke feels like someone’s torn open his ribcage and shoved his organs back in.

Is this normal? he wonders. To feel this strongly about your best friend?

He stops himself from surging forward and taking your face into his hands.

What would he even do? Luke isn't even sure himself. He forces the ridiculous thoughts from his head and pulls your hand up to kiss your palm. He presses his mouth into the center and moves down to your injured wrist and then to the warm skin by your pulse.

You let out a watery laugh. “You’re stuck with me for life. Until the end.”

He smiles into the skin of your wrist. You’re joking, he’s sure of it, but he wouldn’t mind forever with you.

Luke stands up for the first time in what feels like hours. He nudges you forward on the twin sized cot, and you let him settle behind you. It’s a slightly awkward fit, but you don’t seem to care, lying comfortably against him. Your body is warm where it's pressed to his chest and Luke knows he could do this forever.

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again,” he says lightly, pressing a kiss into your hair. He doesn’t want to think about how serious he is. “So don’t get sick of me yet.”

You tuck yourself under his chin, pulling his arms around your front. Something inside of him clicks, like turning on a light, or slotting something into place.

When you turn around to kiss his cheek, it borders dangerously on the corner of his mouth.

“As if I’d ever be sick of you, hero.”

notes: will i ever give her a break? i guess we’ll never know! i cant tell if i dislike this bc im sick of reading it or if i didnt edit it enough 😭 so kindly let me know if u enjoyed :)

tags — lmk if u want to be removed/added!

killerverse: @yoremins @qtkat @mischiefmoons @cedricsleftelbow @syraxesrevenge @whiteoakoak @acourtofdeppressionandanxiety @dummie-dummiest @softtina @amberpanda99 @luvvfromme @3alamari @esposadomd

luke castellan: @chasebeth @silkenthusiasts @urmomsbananabread @sunny747 @randomgurl2326 @repostingmyfavs @au-ghosttype @mrsaluado @holy-macncheese-balls @catluvwr @katemlk @lukecastellandefender @wonuskie @kitkat-writes-stuff @bugcuti3 @bookworm-center @justanotherkpopstanlol @quinnsadilla @tinolawithrice @jjenjoysthings @marisrope @cantstoptherecs @anotherblackreader @iamforeverandalwaystired @siriusly-parker-main @mclando81 @amortencjja @inlovewithcarsthatrunreallyfast @amoreva

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

Some Natsume Yuujinchou sketches I did. This show every now and then creeps into my brain and starts wrecking havoc but in a very quiet and warm way. Much like how the story is itself. I also started the manga so I'm excited to re-meet these people!

happy october! here’s some seasonally appropriate goth family

— NOISE COMPLAINT ; eijiro kirishima ; 切島

summary: red riot feels really bad about absolutely wrecking the shit out of your treasured plants, or eijiro kirishima falls in love at first sight. pairing: f!reader / pro hero!red riot word count: 3.7k tags: mutual pining, fluff/comfort, humor, very gentlemanly make-out, reader is a fan of red riot, mention of ingenium thirst (truth) a/n: kiri might be a twenty-seven year old pro hero in this fic but he is an absolute lovesick virgin who gets all his romantic cues from k-dramas. you cannot force me to think otherwise.

This is exactly the sort of night you needed.

The television, low and quiet, drones on as a deep-dive video on terrariums plays. Your apartment is clean — dishes done, laundry folded and trash taken out. There's a new candle burning on the coffee table, and a Dynamight-themed, cucumber-melon eye mask plastered to your delightedly thoughtless expression.

It's supposed to be good for dark circles. It kinda burns. You wonder if maybe that's, like, part of the gimmick. Y'know. Burns. Dynamight. 

Whatever.

No thoughts. Only the pleasure of turning everything off — brain included — for a perfect Friday night, complete with a mediocre glass of wine and no pants. 

The oversized Red Riot t-shirt clinging to your frame is your favorite. You've had it since college — it's a simple red tee with REAL MEN RIOT blazoned across the front, complete with your favorite hero popping a cheeky, shark-like grin and a double bicep. It's faded, stretched out, and broken in but it's also clean, and it smells like fabric softener and comfort.

This is the life. 

Even Twitter is decidedly pretty calm tonight. 

You're scrolling through your timeline, snickering at your friends' recent thirst tweets over Ingenium's recent GQ Japan shoot when it starts.

Apparently, your upstairs neighbors are home.

You thought those guys were out of town for the week. 

You've had beautiful, silent bliss for too long. The buck stops tonight, you suppose.

There's a shout overhead, then a scramble. Another voice joins the fray, and you swear you hear someone call someone else an idiot. You frown deeply as your eyes trail upwards. You wait, expecting more noise, but unsettling silence follows.

Your eye twitches.

Annoyance tips into a simmering rage.

The apartment complex is old. It's in decent shape, and the rent isn't half bad, but the walls are thin. Your upstairs neighbors have been like this as long as you can remember: shouting, stomping, fighting... Some nights it's like being subjected to musical chairs, modern contemporary tap dance, and experimental sound drum solos all at once. 

Your first week was the worst. You dragged yourself up the back to knock on their door and politely negotiate some silence — but the man who opened the door was less than pleased to have his little dude-bro circle-jerk interrupted. He told you to fuck off, get bent, and leave him the fuck alone. 

Then, before he slammed the door in your face, he procured the sort of audacity only assholes possessed and laughed at your Red Riot shirt — which is just plain unforgivable, frankly. 

"That guy's a fuckin' pussy." 

Sure, sure, sure, right, right, right.

The interaction told you everything you needed to know about the two (or four?) men who lived upstairs. They were losers. And they were fuckin' annoying. 

And, as it turns out, manufacturing bad batches of Trigger. 

You don't know that yet, but truth be told it isn't exactly shocking.

Maybe it's your fault for picking an apartment complex in this part of Tokyo. This part of Arawaka Ward is rarely found on those top-ten-neighborhoods-for-young-professionals lists, but it's affordable! And for day laborers like you, it worked. And hey, in recent months, the crime rate has gone down at least 5% — which only quelled the anxieties of your mom and dad by about the same percentage. 

The candle on the coffee table flickers, and you're about to turn back to your slow Twitter feed when there's another bang upstairs — this one admittedly loud enough to send a wave through your wine beside you. You slip your eyes slowly to the glass, perched on a coaster, as another bang rattles your apartment. You reach to still the vibrating glass on the side table. 

That's when the shouting really starts.

And it's when you notice the growing brightness of red and blue lights outside the window.

The apartment complex is pretty big. There are about sixty residents and six floors. You lucked out and managed to snagone of the last available Western-facing studios with a balcony — which made for a perfect plant haven. 

It was a recent hobby, but one that quickly became your calm after the chaos of the day-to-day. Working for the city's Heroics Response Department left you picking up the physical pieces (literally) of a lot of lives. Your quirk might be the usual, run-of-the-mill strength-based ability, but it comes in handy in the aftermath of property damage due to — what the Nation's Safety Commission has labeled — "villain-aggressed encounters". 

All in all, it's a good gig. It's physically demanding but rewarding. The pay is good, you've got union benefits, and you even have a per-diem schedule. It keeps you busy, and though it's not your father's construction business, it's a career path your parents are proud of. 

The slice-of-heaven balcony is bustling with plants. Some are happier than others, sure, but it's pretty. You've admittedlyformed an emotional bond with those vines, leaves, and flowers. 

It's perfect.

It's also perfect for snooping whenever things like this go down in your complex, or the sister complex across the parking lot. 

The shouting match upstairs is escalating, and you take the moment to tip-toe towards your balcony door to peek outside. It looks like two or three police cruisers have pulled up outside. Maybe someone called for a noise complaint? Maybe the property manager was tired of dealing with those losers?

Cackling to yourself, and hoping for a vindicating show of revenge (NO ONE CALLS RED RIOT A PUSSY), you yank open your balcony door and slip outside just as the sound of a pot crashing meets your ears.

Then:

"Shit, shit, shit—"

There's someone on the balcony. That someone's boot is currently stuck in an empty terracotta pot you were saving for spring. Your eyes are wide as you watch the shadow leap to his other foot, lose his balance, and unceremoniously knock over your entire, six-foot-tall, and well-treasured plant stand. You slap a hand over your mouth mid-shriek, hands flying to try and save whatever you can. 

You fail.

Eijiro Kirishima freezes.

What the fu—

It takes a second.

Like, a full second. Maybe even two. Your brain can't make sense of the sight before you. Neither can his, really. 

There's a girl on this balcony. A pretty girl. Like, mega pretty. Like soft and warm and cute and you smell kinda like vanilla — and there's... You're wearing his merch. His merch and... nothing else. Nothing else but a Dynamight eye mask and a pair of fluffy socks. 

...Is this what it's like to fall in love at first sight?

Shit.

Red Riot is on your balcony.

The Red Riot.

Red Riot, the hero in question, catches himself staring. His wide eyes openly wander over your figure (woah, okay, hello thighs), and the second he realizes it, he quickly snaps his eyes up to your face with a mortified expression. "Uh... hi!"

"...Hi...?"

Your expression is tied between shame, fear, and sheepishness as you blink once at him, then twice at the mess of your hobby's destruction. There's dirt everywhere, a plant stand blocking the doorway, and carnage. Your precious babies have been murdered. 

By Red Riot.

And... Red Riot is on your balcony. 

You repeat: Red Riot is on your balcony. 

Abort mission, abort mission.

Your lips part, your mouth hangs open, and every single thought in your head seems to stutter. Kirishima winces as you look down dejectedly at your plants (or, what remains) before he speaks.

"I, uh— is it cool if I..." he points upwards, "Use your balcony?" 

You're speechless.

You draw your mouth shut and nod hurriedly.

"Thanks," he grins, giving you a thumbs up — and a smile. A toothy, cute, nervous smile, "Lemme just... I gotta handle something. B-But, I'll be back. I'll help fix this mess — just... five minutes, okay?"

It hits you suddenly that his voice sounds different from all those interviews you've watched. It's a little warmer, a little raspier, a little less heroic. It's cute. 

Your brain is still having a hard time connecting the words coming out of his mouth to the scene before you — like, yes frontal lobe, this is real. This is happening.

Red Riot is real and Red Riot is on your balcony. 

He's shockingly gentle when he finally frees his boot from your terracotta pot, setting it down with purposeful delicacy — he even whispers 'please stay' as he props it upright — and then steps back to eye the balcony above yours like an athlete remembering a gameplan. 

He's trying to figure out the best way up. 

How he even got up here is news to you. 

(It was Uravity, as it turns out. They've been patrolling together more in this Ward.)

Red Riot is huge. Like, huge. 

Broad shoulders, rippling biceps, and long, fluffy crimson hair. It's daunting to realize how tall he is in person. The guy is a beast — everyone knows it — but his chivalrous nature is that thing that usually draws in his fans. It's no secret that Red Riot is sweet. He openly champions the need to be a good role model for men everywhere. Y'know, you can be strong and nice!

A sharp canine glints in your apartment's light as he pokes his tongue out and thinks for a second. 

Then, he settles on his plan. 

"You might wanna head inside," Red Riot says as he rolls his shoulders and bounces on the balls of his feet; he's readying up for a fight — and you blink as the beautiful realization dawns on you, "This could get kinda loud."

Loud?

Oh my god.

Is he here for your upstairs neighbors?

Oh my god, he is. 

Your jaw falls open as you bark out a laugh — it's an incredulous rasp that sends you into a spiral of joy; you're not a vengeful person by any means but...

"They're gonna shit themselves," you grin, your eyes alight with pure delight and a spark of something that reminds Kirishima a lot little bit of Bakugo, "They called you a pussy—"

Kirishima's brows shoot upwards as he pauses. He was about to jump and dig his hands into the underside of the balcony, but his quirk is stalling at your words. There's a roaring fire blazing in your eyes, one that screams retribution. 

It's... comical.

You cackle again at him with a wide grin, hissing conspiratorily. "They made fun of my shirt!"

You point down at the REAL MEN RIOT tee with both hands, your face set in a look of vindicated glee. Then, the second realization of the night hits — that you've got no pants on, and that stupid, goofy Dynamight eye mask is still on your face. You make a soft sound of embarrassment and tug your shirt down lower, trying to cover up. He cannot see your underwear. No. No way, no fucking way. Without a single word, you reach up, snatch the Dynamight eye mask off your face, and whip it off the balcony without a second thought. 

Slowly, Kirishima's face splits into a pointy grin. 

Holy shit, he's so fucking hot. 

"Oh, man," Red Riot rumbles, his face cracking into a sharp, playful smirk, "That's real rude. I might have t' teach these guys some manners."

Your smile returns, washing away the wobbly look of embarrassment sticking to your cheeks. 

Man, it sure is cute.

You are really cute, Kirishima realizes.

"Right! And who calls Red Riot a pussy?" you counter excitedly, before reigning it in and awkwardly lowering your arms as you try to tug your shirt down to hide the tops of your thighs again. Your glee has stifled a little bit, but it only reaffirms Kirishima's duty to wrap this all up. 

"Yea, that's, like, super misogynistic," he muses as his quirk kicks in and his hands flick into a hardened state. It's insaneto witness the way his large hands transform into weapons with a single breath. You can see the jagged extension of his quirk working up his large arms, too, "Lemme just have a lil' word with these boys, alright? Head on inside, I'll be back in a sec'."

Then, with graceful ease, he hops upwards with a little hup before latching to the base of the upstairs neighbor's balcony. 

It's insane how effortless it is for him to haul himself up the balcony, his hands dug into the cement. His upper body strength is insane. He's scaling the terrace, alternating his grip. He disappears into the dark, swinging his body upwards and reaching his destination.

You tamp down your awe in favor of heeding his directions: head inside.

You're closing the balcony door when you hear Red Riot's voice greet the unexpecting gaggle.

"Hey, fellas! I heard you guys are some super fans. Got anything you want me to sign?"

You snicker to yourself as you hear the beginning of a fight. 

Again, as it turns out, the guys upstairs sucked. Like, mega sucked. They'd been responsible for several recent Trigger overdoses; Uravity and Red Riot were working with law enforcement to track the small-time manufacturers — which explains why they'd been so quiet lately. They suspected someone was on their tail. 

As Red Riot scaled their balcony, law enforcement waited to break down their door. They arrested the four men (Seriously? Four? In that studio?) without much incident — however, you did spy a broken nose on one of them as they were hauled into the back of the awaiting cruisers. 

Sweet, sweet revenge. 

By the time your neighbors are carted off, you've shimmed into some sweats and made a half-assed attempt to look sort ofpresentable, all while firing off a few contextually incomprehensible texts into your group chat.

red riot has seen me in my underwear wtf do i do know kiss him?

You're really weighing your options when there's a knock on your balcony entry. It's gentle and cordial. You turn, head snapping, and spy that trademarked (and a dozen times retweeted) smile through the glass. He waves. 

Your heart leaps into your throat. You try to remember to breathe as you shuffle over and tug the balcony door open. The night air is cool.

Be like the night air.

Stay cool.

Eijiro feels so silly. And guilty. And honestly? Really into you. 

You're still wearing that shirt — the one with his face on it. You have opted to put on pants, but Kirishima still reminds himself to keep his eyes on your face. No ogling. That's not very gentlemanly. 

There's a beat of awkward silence as the two of you wait for the other to speak, and Kirishima is the one to break it with a raspy laugh.

"I wanted to apologize about your plants," a large hand moves to rub the back of his neck, "I cleaned up as best I could. I'm really, really sorry."

You wave him off, leaning into the doorframe. "No, it's okay! It's nothing I can't... fix. I think?"

You look beyond him to the catastrophic mess of plant matter. He must have tried tidying up while you rattled off the rapid-fire texts in the group chat. 

Red Riot's face warbles into something tied between mortification and guilt. "Please forgive me."

"Seriously!" you cry, waving your hands as you try to placate his dejected expression, "Please don't feel bad. It's a fair trade, y'know. Those guys upstairs were, like, the worst."

"I can only imagine," Eijiro concedes, frowning a little, "They didn't give you too much trouble, did they?"

You shake your head and laugh a little, "Aside from insulting my favorite hero to my face? Not really."

Kirishima can feel his face get a little hot. He shifts from boot to boot. His smile is a little woozy. "So... you're a fan?"

You don't need to tell him the underwear you have on matches the shirt — red, with an embroidered RR on the front. You keep that to yourself. You just nod happily.

"Really?" his grin cracks into something so excitable it makes your entire stomach flip, "I don't meet a lotta fans who are..."

His words drift off.

He's staring at your eyes. You're so... soft. Warm. Your eyes are swirling with quiet, astonished adoration and it's making Kirishima feel like he's floating. 

"Who are...?" your brow quirks as you lean deeper into the doorframe, trying to coax out the rest of the sentence.

"Gorgeous," he breathes, his posture relaxing a little as he soaks in your expression.

It's like getting sucker punched to the sternum.

All the wind rushed out of your lungs.

The soft moment only lasts a beat, because suddenly Red Riot's face screws up and he waves his hands hurriedly. "Wait, no. Hold on, I mean — all of my fans are gorgeous, because, uh, they're my fans and I love them, right? It's not like they're not gorgeous, I just — I'm... I... My fans are, like, usually dudes? A-And that's totally cool because dudes can be gorgeous, too, y'know? But—"

You're laughing.

Kirishima is realizing he was not paying enough attention in his agency's PR training last month and you're laughing.

"I get it," you giggle, crossing your arms and grinning up at him, "I mean, I definitely don't think I'm gorgeous but—"

"You are," he assures firmly, his expression serious.

Are you dead?

Are you, like, literally ascending to a higher plane right now?

There's no fucking way this is happening. 

Your lips part in quiet shock as you bite back a smile that threatens to cramp up your cheeks. Kirishima eats it up, his posture perking up at the way you seem to melt at his compliment. His smile is boyish — almost dizzy. 

You duck a bashful look towards the tiled floor of the balcony, not really giving a singular shit that your beloved monstera has been stomped on.

Kirishima clears his throat, then — in a move he totally hasn't swooned over in those K-dramas he's secretly obsessed with, that'd be ridiculous — he props his arm up against your door and leans over you. Your faces are close in the warm light of the balcony. 

Your eyes stutter up his abdomen, chest, jaw, lips, and eyes. Kirishima notices. It's really, really cute.

"Are you, uh... Are you seeing anyone?" 

Of course, Red Riot would ask that. Red Riot, the king of chivalry. How is something like that so endearing? For the tenth time tonight, he makes your stomach flip.

You shake your head no, a little too stunned to speak.

"Cool," Eijiro musters over a shake of nerves, "Cool. Okay. Uh, then would it... would it be okay if I bought you some new plants?"

You nod, swallowed entirely by his shadow. He's so fucking huge. 

"And if I took you to dinner?" 

Another nod.

"...And — shit. You're, like, so cute," the smooth persona he's put on melts a little as his eyes roam your face; you feel so... shy, "I was gonna ask you something else but..."

"My number?" you offer, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you maintain eye contact. 

Is it hot? You're sweating. Is he sweating? He's hot. 

Eijiro nods, absolutely mesmerized by the way you tug your lip between your teeth. "That. Yea."

He has to fight back the urge to bite his knuckle when you turn away and move towards your kitchen to snag your phone. Kirishima stays put, allowing himself one moment of ogling. When you turn around, he's clearing his throat and crossing a boot over his ankle. 

He's still leaning up against the doorway.

"Here," you slip him the phone.

Eiijiro takes it — then hesitates for a second.

"...You're not gonna leak my number, are you?"

You have to laugh. You rub your cheek and shake your head before crossing your arms and looking up at him. "If you think I'm going to do anything to fumble this, you're wrong." 

Fumble this? Fumble him? He's the one that is at risk of fumbling, are you serious?

Eijiro barks out a surprised laugh as he enters his number, shoots a quick text his way then ignores the buzz in his back pocket. He hands your phone back and tries so fucking hard to ignore the way your fingers brush his. 

He got your number.

Holy shit, he got your number.

"Hey, Red Riot?"

He blinks down at you. "Y-Yea?"

You gesture for him to come closer, and he obeys easily — he bends a bit at the waist, his hair falling along his shoulders as he smiles down at you in the threshold of your apartment.

"Is everything alri—?"

You pop a chaste kiss against his cheek. 

Or, try. 

As you hop up onto your tippy toes to kiss his cheek, Eijiro is turning his head at the sound of Urvaity calling his name simultaneously. Trajectory failed, and now it's lips and lips instead of lips on cheek — and honestly? He owes Ochaco one for this. 

Red Riot melts — actually, truly, genuinely melts. His posture slumps down as you let out a shocked little sound of apology. But, Eijiro doesn't mind, and fuck, neither do you — because one hand braces against the doorframe above your head while his other hand is suddenly on your waist. He steadies himself, and damn. Damn. 

He breaks away when Uravity calls his name again. Kirishima is breathless and blushing, and your knees feel like jello. 

"I... Uh, I gotta go—"

"Yea, totally," you breathe, swallowing down the burn of unfiltered attraction, "Sorry, I was trying to kiss your cheek—"

Another call of his name. Red Riot curses softly before hollering a 'COMING!' over his shoulder, out past the edge of the balcony. 

When he turns back, he's fast to sweep you into another kiss — this one hotter than before. This one draws you into his chest, sending your hands colliding with the hot skin of his chest. There's muscle and scars and heat beneath your fingertips. His hand curls around your lower back, and you nearly moan. 

He peels himself away with an apologetic look as he backs towards the edge of the balcony. "I gotta go — I'll text you once patrol is over. Is that okay? I'm serious about the plants. And dinner." 

All you can do is nod.

Eijiro is kinda proud of himself for stunning you stupid with that kiss.

This is exactly the sort of night you needed.