koki's corner

nena // kokirane's misc wips & things

[kokinena]

a nagi/nagireo lockoff drabble

Choki's gotten bigger. So have you. But he'll keep growing, probably, while you'll — well — does it matter? It doesn't, does it? Not anymore. You don't have to try anymore.

You prod one of Choki's spines. Your fingers are callused, now. You thought about holding Reo's hand, that time, but he had gloves on, and he was crying, so — you couldn't, but you can't remember what the calluses on his fingers look like anymore. You never got to touch them, or kiss them. You never got to kiss Reo at all. You know you don't deserve to even think about him like that, but there some things you really can't help.

Guess it can't be helped, Reo used to say, laughing and ruffling your hair.

Guess it can't be helped, you echo to yourself now, because it can't be helped that he became more important than soccer, it can't be helped that you've always been a half-formed, unfinished creature, it can't be helped that your dream is over because you couldn't stand on your own, because you couldn't be the Nagi that Reo needed, and it can't be helped that one day, your calluses will fade and there will be no more proof that Blue Lock was real, and that you were —

Blood blooms on your fingertip.

You pull back quickly. Sorry, you tell Choki, the word sticking thick and heavy on your tongue. You wipe off Choki's spine carefully. He doesn't respond, but you find yourself staring, unfocused and vacant, and wondering what he would sound like if he could, but you can't really imagine any kind of voice besides Reo's.

It's a bit of a pain to try to remember your parents' voices these days. It's just been so long, but you at least know what they would say. That as long as you're alive, it's okay.

But you know, now, that there's a difference between being alive and living. You know so much more, now, after just months of being with Reo and everyone else, than you did from seventeen years of — well — you can't really call that living anymore.

Just like you can't really call this room home anymore. Can't call yourself a genius, or Reo's treasure anymore.

Can't do anything except close your eyes until the world fades away.

[kokirane]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

a small mikage reo character study (with implied/v light pre-relationship nagireo) written for @mikagereozine 🦎💕

[kokinena]

a hero nagi x villain reo drabble, re: the three sentence ficathon prompt: "it's not my blood"

“It’s not my blood,” Nagi says, soft and petulant, as if that would stop Reo’s hands from trembling with barely restrained anger, or stop Reo’s teeth from cutting into his own lips until they too bleed in ferocious sympathy — blood is blood, on his treasure where it has no right to be, so all that Nagi’s words can really stop him from doing is immediately checking Nagi for open wounds. 

He still checks, of course, after he pulls Nagi inside and slams the door, after he hoists him onto his back and silently carries him to the only room in the entirety of his hideout that’s comfortable, lived in. Theirs. 

“Reo,” Nagi repeats, softer, as Reo sits him down, anger still taut in all the lines of his body except for his hands. He keeps those gentle, light, as they cradle Nagi’s bruised face. “Reo, your lip...”

“Who cares about that, idiot? Look at your face.” Reo snorts, but Nagi ignores him to lean up, chastely kiss the corner of his mouth. There’s a slight sting as Nagi licks at his split lip; Reo chases it, pressing into soft warmth until it’s a harsh burn.

[kokinena]

also ty guys for the sweet tags on the wip ;-; again idk how to Reply but i am very happy to read y’alls thoughts!! mwah

[kokinena]

resurrecting my yan4yan atticwife au nagireo for a sickfic drabble bc 1) im sick and 2) i miss them so happy (questionable) wip wednesday to my shaylas

Nagi used to be so cute and needy. He's still cute, of course, because Reo's husband is always cute, but as Nagi sleeps against Reo's chest, breath stuttering and skin feverish, Reo feels his own mouth tugging downwards.

Reo drags his fingers through Nagi's hair, damp with sweat. A few months ago, Reo could've effortlessly carried him to the bath. But now, there's a packet of wipes on their bedside dresser, and two pillows underneath Reo's broken leg. He can't take Nagi anywhere. Can't do anything.

Reo reaches out his free hand and presses his finger onto one of Choki's spines. Just enough to embed an ache, not enough to bleed over his treasure's first companion. At least this is pain that he can choose.

Nagi hadn't even wanted to get in bed with him. How does he not realize the way it makes Reo feel?

What use is he now? Mikage Reo, once a super elite all-rounder, can't even take care of his sick husband. If Nagi didn't already keep the house stocked with medical necessities, Reo wouldn't have been able to even drive to town.

(Well — he would've tried. And Nagi probably would've just pinned him down again.)

[kokinena]

doodled a sulky yanwifey reo … pov ur nagi and just checked on ur very bored atticwife … he is both irritated but happy to see u . and painting in ur white hoodie as petty revenge (and a desire to be close to u)

[kokinena]

resurrecting my yan4yan atticwife au nagireo for a sickfic drabble bc 1) im sick and 2) i miss them so happy (questionable) wip wednesday to my shaylas

Nagi used to be so cute and needy. He's still cute, of course, because Reo's husband is always cute, but as Nagi sleeps against Reo's chest, breath stuttering and skin feverish, Reo feels his own mouth tugging downwards.

Reo drags his fingers through Nagi's hair, damp with sweat. A few months ago, Reo could've effortlessly carried him to the bath. But now, there's a packet of wipes on their bedside dresser, and two pillows underneath Reo's broken leg. He can't take Nagi anywhere. Can't do anything.

Reo reaches out his free hand and presses his finger onto one of Choki's spines. Just enough to embed an ache, not enough to bleed over his treasure's first companion. At least this is pain that he can choose.

Nagi hadn't even wanted to get in bed with him. How does he not realize the way it makes Reo feel?

What use is he now? Mikage Reo, once a super elite all-rounder, can't even take care of his sick husband. If Nagi didn't already keep the house stocked with medical necessities, Reo wouldn't have been able to even drive to town.

(Well — he would've tried. And Nagi probably would've just pinned him down again.)

[kokinena]

what is the etiquette these days of how to reply to reblog tags… squishing joyboyo janjan and ray in my hands thank u sweeties for liking the drabble ;-; <3 ily all friendship is magic

[kokinena]

wonderland mousecat nagireo yuri for thee lovely @kryouma /@mulleddivinity

[kokirane]

beach day #nagireo drabble, crossposted from twitter and ao3

[kokirane]

crossposted from ao3 and twitter.

Nagi stirs at the sound of the door opening and closing. He must’ve fallen asleep again — that’s fine, it’s not like there’s a lot to do over the break — but he thinks he must still be dreaming, because Reo is coming over to his bed, soft footsteps nearly silent.

If he could, Nagi would sit up in surprise, but he doesn’t want to move, and he doesn’t have to. Reo slips underneath the blanket that Nagi’s tangled up in, tucking it around the two of them properly. There’s sunlight coming through the window — eh, when had he opened it? — and it makes Reo even brighter, like how refracted light bursts into rainbow hues. It’s almost a little blinding; if the sun grows any stronger, it might blot Reo out completely.

Even through the haze of sleep, through his half-lidded eyes, Nagi wants to see him properly. Even if they were at Shibuya with everyone else a few days ago, it wasn’t the same as it used to be. Reo stayed just out of reach, but it didn’t feel like whenever he would tease Nagi. It felt worse.

But Reo read his mind, somehow, and he came, right back into Nagi’s arms.

“Reo,” Nagi starts, but Reo interrupts him. There’s a flush to his skin, and he leans, just a little, into the crook of Nagi’s neck, like he wants to hide.

“Nagi,” Reo says. “You really should clean up around here, you know.” Ah, finally another order from his boss. Well — one that he doesn’t mind as much as leave me alone or don’t touch me.

“Later,” Nagi says. He’s not sure why Reo’s here all of a sudden, but he wants to make the best of it. With how things have been lately, he doesn’t know when Reo will turn cold again. He shouldn’t waste time asking about necessary things. “Let’s sleep, Reo.”

“Ha, weren’t you just sleeping?”

“I sleep better with Reo,” Nagi says, slipping his hands around Reo’s waist, fingers ghosting underneath his patterned sweater. Reo’s all soft skin and lean muscle, like a perfect pillow. Maybe he should ask if this is okay. He’s never had to ask before, but — ah, Reo’s entwining their fingers. His palms are callused, and Nagi wonders if Reo’s been working out over their break — probably, yeah. Nagi hasn’t lifted a single weight since.

“Stupid boy,” Reo says affectionately. He’s warm, smiling. The tips of their noses brush; he isn’t hiding anymore. Nagi can smell lavender soap and iced coffee, can see how Reo’s eyes darken as they gaze into his.

It’s embarrassing, but — Nagi’s dreamt about kissing Reo. He wonders if Reo’s thought about it too — when he looked it up online, he saw that sometimes, weird dreams like that can happen, and it doesn’t have to mean anything.

The way Reo’s looking at him now feels like it means something.

“Reo,” Nagi tries again, but Reo interrupts once more: with a soft brush of his lips against Nagi’s. Nagi’s lips are chapped, and his throat is dry, but he doesn’t care, because Reo’s here, Reo’s kissing him, Reo wants wants wants him —

“Reo, Nagi bursts out breathlessly, “why are you here?”

There’s a bit of a pause, and then Reo admits, “I don’t know.”

“That doesn't sound like Reo,” Nagi protests. “Reo always knows.”

Or, well, he’s supposed to, but they’ve both changed, haven't they? They had finally lost, and Reo had looked so helpless back then.

“Go to sleep,” Reo says quietly, and it’s like a magic spell, because what happens next is this: Nagi wakes up to the faint glow of the sunset peeking through the curtains, and he’s tangled up in the blanket again. Choki’s silhouette casts a small shadow over the edge of the bed; there’s nothing — no one — else.

Nagi turns from side to side, says, “Reo?”

He touches his lips, wonders — hopes — if he can taste iced coffee, but his mouth is too dry, the thrall of sleep too thick, and so he curls into himself, back into nothingness, and hopes that dreams have save points.

[kokirane]

crossposted from ao3 and twitter.

Nagi wakes to Reo’s arms around him, clasping around his neck as Reo suddenly presses close, chest to chest, all shuddering breaths and tangled purple hair brushing against Nagi’s cheek.

Suddenly the room is too warm; it’s suffocating. They’re tangled up in the blankets and each other, and Reo’s holding him so tightly that Nagi can’t quite breathe, but that’s how Reo is, sometimes, except he usually isn’t crying.

Why is Reo crying?

They’ve been dating for one month, and this is the first time that Nagi has seen Reo cry. Today is their one month, exactly, and Reo had been happy. He had been stupidly sappy and sweet, pulling out all the stops for their date, and Nagi had played it cool, but he had been happy too. Everything had seemed fine when they had gone to bed, so what could have happened?

“Reo?” Nagi says groggily, “Bad dream?”

“Nagi…” Reo’s voice is low, hoarse. He lets out a shaky little exhale that he tries to stifle against Nagi’s shirt.

“It’s okay,” Nagi says. He pats Reo’s back slowly, unsure of what to do. Maybe he could think if it wasn’t so warm —

So what he says is this: “Can Reo take off my shirt?”

“Uh, sure?” Reo says. He lets go, and they both sit up. Reo pulls Nagi’s shirt off, and then and after a moment’s hesitation, sheds his own. He lingers in the moonlight, the two of them kneeling there in silence. Reo, Nagi thinks, looks a little nervous, until Nagi opens his arms back up.

“C’mere,” Nagi says. He pulls Reo down against his chest, against his heartbeat, and thinks about how he used to sleep with his grandparents’ fluffy old cat. The cat’s weight was comforting, and so was her purring. While Nagi can’t really purr, he can’t deny that holding Reo like this, skin to skin, feels really good. He hopes it’s making Reo feel good too — Reo’s breathing seems to be settling down, and he’s got his hand over Nagi’s heart, tracing little circles, so. Maybe?

“Wanna talk about it?” Nagi offers.

“It’s stupid.” Reo slings his leg over Nagi’s, curls a little closer. Nagi mirrors the motion, locking the two of them together.

“So what? Lots of things are stupid.”

“You calling me stupid?” Reo scowls, but Nagi can tell that he’s teasing. They lapse back into silence, and Nagi tries to figure out what else he can do for Reo before they fall asleep. Something that would chase the bad dreams away.

Ah, Reo likes to play with his hair, so maybe that?

“Pet my hair, Reo.” Nagi takes Reo’s hand and places it on his head, nudging against his calloused palm.

“Huh? Shouldn’t you be petting my hair?” Reo huffs out a laugh.

“Does Reo want me to?”

Reo hesitates, which probably means yes, so Nagi threads his fingers through Reo’s silky hair. His eyelids are getting heavier again, sleep desperate to reclaim him. But he belongs to Reo now, so he has to try to fight it.

“Reo,” he mumbles, “Dream of something nice this time. Like me. Or the World Cup.”

“I will, my treasure,” Reo says softly.

Which one, Nagi wants to ask, but he’s too tired, so he just says, “Promise?”

“Promise.”

[kokinena]

a nagireo drabble wip // necromancer reo & homunculus nagi

In Reo's arms, Nagi’s body is cold.

Nagi is always cold, because Nagi is dead. Yet no matter how many times the fates drag him under, Reo always — always, always, always — brings him back. 

They had promised, after all. 

[Promise me, Reo. Promise that you’ll stay with me until the end. 

I promise, Nagi.]

Nagi was borne, at first, from Reo’s blood and magic, but each revival demands more and more and more. After six months, Nagi and Reo have steadily become patchwork reflections of each other: shared skin and swapped limbs, stitched together with dark, dark red.

Perhaps their fusion is what makes their telepathy so strong. It's hard to know when there has never been a necromancer like Reo, or a homunculus like Nagi, but it’s an uncertainty that Reo takes pride in. 

There are no limits to the dreams that Reo can see when it comes to being with Nagi, because if their life together began by conquering death, then what, truly, can stop them? Nagi’s a miracle, a genius, a defiance of God’s will and fate’s ambivalence — 

— so why, why won’t he open his eyes?