#I see them and I become sooooo unwell over them

[demigod-of-the-agni]

My stupid little guys

Spider-Man Vol 2 #8

[underscar]

DIE IN A PLACE OF LOVE

Pairing: Near/Female Reader/Mello

Summary: The flowers of spring were your proximate stimulus, displayed not in a sheltered and rancid dwelling nor through a difficult pathway, but instead lingering in an affectionate grass field. You thought a lot about life as your illness became more and more terminal. The presence of two childhood friends encourages reflection. Mello hoping to be helpful during this challenging time of your life, while on your bedside always was Near watching you with morbid interest. Your decisions since becoming ill had seemed questionable to both of them. How you chose to stay at the orphanage rather than a hospital. Your reasoning is that it would make more sense to die in a place of love.

DEATH NOTE MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

A/N: This oneshot is sooooo old omg

I remember first writing this when I was in like 6th grade on wattpad! I had a whole death note oneshot book back then lol. i plan on rewriting more of them in the future >_>

WORD COUNT // 3,061 words

The spring breeze consoles your nerves and shaky hands. Your open window permitted the breeze to pass through, which hovered over you, and gave you more comfort and cuddles than your stuffiest blanket ever could. The flowers of spring were your proximate stimulus, displayed not in a sheltered and rancid dwelling nor through a difficult pathway, but instead lingering in an affectionate grass field.

Outside of Wammy's House were the cheerful sounds of children; you could hear them clearly through your window. The sounds of their delight brought a smile and warmth to your face. The scene brings back memories of your adolescence. Being L's successor often made you feel older than you are, and you frequently forget that you're not that archaic. However, compared to those vibrant orphans outside, you were a despondent dinosaur among them. 

People behave in that way when they are L's successor after all. Well, perhaps the more appropriate phrase for you at this point is "former successor." Being ill and all, you are now unable to succeed L. 

This wasn't detrimental to you in any manner. You never anticipated standing set to proceed L anyway. Regardless, even just being deemed competent in upholding that pinnacle was an honor. In any case, Mello or Near stood a better shot of becoming the new L.

Everyone at the orphanage makes an effort to hide the truth from you or to avoid bringing it up themselves. The truth is that you're running out of time. You'll narrowly outlive L, they say. Yes, you were gravely ill. Yes, you were going to die soon. And yes, you knew all of this. After all, you are not an imbecile, so of course you already knew. 

This isn't something you discovered from another or as a result of your intellect or intelligence. You figured this out because, in the end, you were the suffering individual. Each day, you could feel your body failing you, and every day, you were in pain. You don't feel anxious or glum about dying too soon; everyone passes away, and you've given in to that.

Your foreordained death was something no one liked to talk about, except for Near, who found a morbid novelty about your condition.

You and Near have known each other since the beginning, or at least you believe he considers you friends. Although remarkable and the closest thing you'll ever come to...love, Near is a strange person. Regardless, you wouldn't want anyone else; you don't mind that he's your first and only love or even that it's one-sided. You didn't have to confess, there was no need, of course, as Near was already aware. 

You appreciate Near's candor about your unwell condition. Everyone here has attempted to keep the facts from you, with the exception of Near. Overall, he has been very blunt about your current state and ailment.

You heard the door creek while staring out the window in a wistful daze. You perk up and whirl to see who had come to visit you, Mello, in his jet-black leather jacket, peaked half his body into your modest room. 

"Iris," he voices, before clearing his throat, "-_____, I mean." 

Since your diagnosis, you had developed a preference for using your real name rather than your pseudonym. To you, your alias stood for a life that is no longer fitting or accurate. And as for your general safeness using it, well, at this juncture, it didn't matter.

When you two locked eyes, you beamed at his face. Months had passed since you last saw your beloved Mello. It didn't matter that he was wearing a dissimilar set of clothes or the burn that scarred the bulk of his face, he was still the same boy you had grown up with. With chocolate stains on the corner of his lips, you bet. The thought brought delight to your heart. He has been out there in the world investigating the contentious Kira, likely putting himself and others in danger, though if you knew him as well as you thought, you can guarantee he didn't mind the risk at all.

Your smile screamed home in Mello's mind, and lured the blond further inside the room like a siren's song, shutting the door behind him. 

You scooched further back on your bed till you hit the headboard, drawing him to sit at the end of your bed, which he did, making it bounce scarcely as he sat.

The subsequent silence wasn't uncomfortable in the slightest. Until Mello broke the silence, as he always did, you preferred to continue examining him and observing him without speaking. Now that he's closer to you, you notice that his hair was a little longer, and his neck was bruised the color of plums, you didn't want to know the origin. Near the corner of his lip was stained chocolate, which made you grin. You peer down at your lap to attempt to hide your merriment till you catch how calloused his hands were.

When you look up from his hands, you catch Mello just staring at your face as you did him, then your neck, then your form concealed under the white nightgown you wore, taking it all in, and you knew he was realizing the same thoughts as you: you both had grown up.

Mello sighed at how colorless you were in the face. It crushed him to see how ill you had become since his last visit. 

Mello makes small conversation to mask his exhale. "It's odd saying your name, you know?" he chuckled to himself.

Mello was the opposite of Near; they were in many aspects. Similarly, like everyone else, he detested considering or even bringing up the topic of your illness. Furthermore, he had no desire to undermine your health. You were not bothered by his behavior because he was more devastated by the reality of your circumstances than you were.

You and Mello have also known each other since the beginning, and unlike Near, you could openly read Mello like a book. You would say you knew his thoughts as clearly as you did yours. You were aware from the outset that Mello had a romantic interest in you. 

Even though he made it crystal plain and obvious since you were all kids, you never experienced a romantic spark with him. He was always aware of the one-sidedness of his emotions.

"Should I call you by yours? To even the playing fields?" you proposed.

A grin spread on his face. "Only if you whispered it in my ear," he toyed. "If you are going to say that name, then only I should hear it, after all."

Mello was an exceptional guy, and he is your most beloved friend. Years have passed and you hoped that you both were mature enough to have now moved on from that phase of your friendship, you'd hate to hurt him.

"How have you been, Mello? Having fun, I assume?" 

Mello shrugged his shoulders. "I wouldn't describe it as fun," he said. "Yet, overall everything's been alright, though the Kira case has been bloody demanding. Especially with Near constantly getting in my damn way," he mumbles while pouting almost imperceptibly.

You emitted a small laugh. "You and Near's detestation is peculiar!" you blurted. You never grasped why Mello and Near were never amicable. Regardless of you getting along with both of them, they never got along, not even when you were all kids. Due to their one-sided rivalry, you could never hang out with both of them at the same moment without conflict.

Once you started laughing again, Mello couldn't help but smile a little bit. You hide your giggling with your right hand and the sun seemed to shine more brilliantly in the room, and on you.

Then, however, the clouds abruptly materialize, casting a gloomy shadow, and you start coughing in between laughs before hysterically doing so. Mello instinctively starts patting your back to aid you, but you shove him away simply because you don't want to be a burden.

"I-I'm...fine," you reassure in a small voice. You reach for a tissue on your nightstand as your cough subsides, but Mello grabs it for you. Grudgingly, you thanked him and accepted the tissue, wiping your mouth. 

Blood stained the cotton when you removed it from your mouth. You instinctively tuck it within your fist in the hopes that Mello won't notice.

Mello looked down at his lap. "How have you been, _____?"

You scrunched your brows. "I...haven't been able to sleep, lately," you admit. "Near says it's a symptom in the ending stages of my condition," you added, dropping the tissue into the trash bin on your bedside.

You should've known better than let those words slip out, 'cause, with the mention of Near, Mello visibly flushed and his fist locked.

"Iris..." he scowled, "_____. You're gonna be alright, okay?" he reassured. You could tell he was saying it more for himself because there was no reason for him to tell you this, you already didn't have any childish hope to give. You were one of Mello's closest friends and a one-sided lover, and he didn't want to think you were about to pass away. How could that bloke Near just make your dread worse when you can do nothing about it?

Mello voiced this. "You're already going through a rough time. How can that white-haired bastard tell you that?" he growled, gazing back at the door as if Near was there. You reasoned that Mello might be able to picture Near's mocking white form standing at the door.

Mello stomped to your door from your bed without saying anything and with a grimace on his face.

From your bed, you watched helplessly as he slammed the door behind himself and stomped through the hallway. As soon as Mello enters Rogers' office, you can clearly anticipate what will happen. 

You withered. "Mihael..." you whispered; yet, no one heard. 

The wooden desk in front of Mello was struck by his hands, driving it to squeak and tremble like a hurricane on his legs. 

Mello scowled at the older man. "We're not trying hard enough!!" he exclaimed. His rebellious fist trembled and bounced, they were a clear indication of his emotions and mental state at the moment.

There was cozy lighting throughout the room. Dark curtains were draped over the windows, and the blinds were sealed. Giving the older man and two orphans proper privacy. Today was a reunion of sorts, yet you were missing, and instead, you were the case of discussion and irritation.

Amid the dispute, Near worked on his blank puzzle while seated on the antique couch, crouched over the table. He deadpanned, "Do you have an additional lung to share, Mello? I'm quite tired of you passing the blame.”

With a nasty glare on his face, Mello glanced over his shoulder at the boy. "Near, if I DID, she would have had it by now," he said through clenched teeth. "I care about her passing, unlike you. I'm surprised she even likes you. You act like you don't even care that she's dying, you bastard!"

"Quit making everything so personal, Mello," Near stated. He twirled his white hair as he glanced up at Mello. Mello had a poor tendency to always invest all of his emotions in things even when they weren't linked, which is what he's doing right now. Near could see that habit plainly. 

"You're clearly more resentful that she doesn't share the same affection for you as she does for me. Please abstain from bearing grudges that have nothing to do with the circumstances, Mello," Near suggested.

Mello had moon-sized eyes and a heated face. In a rage, he gritted his teeth. "W-Why you-"

"Mello, Near, that's enough," Roger says sternly, standing up from his desk chair. Abruptly, the tension in the room burst like a water balloon with the sound of Rogers's voice, drawing the attention of both of the young men to him. He said nothing more because he was at a loss for words to comfort Mello.

The first to speak up was Mello. He shook his fist as he spoke. "I want her...fixed. I don't want her sick anymore, and for her, I'll do this shit myself. As always!" Mello barked, his voice shaking. He stopped speaking after saying and walked towards the door, the door then slammed clumsily behind him as he quickly leaves the orphanage.

With his back to the door, Near refocused on his puzzle. "Whatever makes you feel better, Mello," he uttered. 

The room is silent for a minute as Near continues to solve the puzzle. After he completes it, he calls out to the man. 

"Rogers?" he says, whirling a strand of his wintry hair while marveling at the emptiness of his colorless puzzle.

Rogers sighs from Mello's outburst. "Yes Near?" he acknowledged, restoring the misplaced items on his desk as a result of Mello.

"There won't be a donor in time, will there? Near asks, expressionless. As he disassembles the puzzle, each piece is placed in a box.

"...You already know the answer, Near," Rogers answered, sorrowfully. He sighs and closes his eyes. Rogers watched you develop into a young woman, and he finds it hard to accept that your life is being stolen. The girl he reared, the one who never frowned, was imprisoned in a room that now acted as a cell, with that notable smile, still watching over the other children who slowly grow to forget you. No remorse or pity for yourself, either, just pure acceptance. Few people who have lived longer than you feel as at ease with death and bearing of it as you have.

The boy doesn't confirm. With the puzzle box in hand, Near instead gets to his feet and silently leaves the office.

"Iris," Near calls out to you. "Why don't you go to the hospital? You should be there rather than at the orphanage?" he asked, intently. He sat on the floor with his back against your bed, his back facing you.

Mello did not come back as you had expected. He left without saying goodbye to you. Cynically, you wonder if you'll even have time for him to visit again because you knew he'd be apologetic when he returned. When he allowed his emotions to overwhelm him, he was always ashamed.

As you answered, you fixed your gaze on his back. "I don't like hospitals. They reek of death and despair," you explained, reaching for your cup of water on your nightstand.

You set your cup back on the nightstand after drinking some water to clear your thoughts before proceeding. “I'd rather die in a place full of tenderness than a place full of cessation."

"Hm, I see," he murmurs. "And do you believe you are going to die, Iris?" He asks, impassively, twirling his wavy locks.  

You sigh as you sink even deeper into your pillow. "Near, I am at the ending stages of my conditions, and nowhere near the top of the list for a transplant. Regardless, it's going to transpire sooner or later."

He does not respond and instead stops twirling his hair. Rather then responding, he kept piling his large dice into buildings. You smile as you watch him. He does not change at all and that fact comforted you. You cast a somber glance at the ground below from remembrance.

“Near, please use my true name instead of my pseudonym from now on, all until the day I die," you requested.

Near nodded. "Okay."

The sound of his dice falling repeatedly could be heard as you two sat in complete stillness. When you're together, you may merely relax in quiet conversation. There are no necessary words to enjoy each other's calm companionship.

"Near, are you afraid of death?" you asked, staring up at the white popcorn ceiling.

"No," he answers.

The wind howled outside and pushed the curtains to flow in obscure directions in the room. It was ignored between you and Near.

"The sentiment of not knowing what will transpire when I'm not here is what I'm more fearful of," you admit. Although it was said that you were melancholy as your life came to an end, you didn't perceive it that way. You understood this to mean that while you were accepting your reality, everyone else was not. However, Near didn't make you feel absurd.

Near maintains silence while listening to you. To be honest, Near doesn't have much to say—at least not anything significant.

Raindrops flickered into the room from outside the window as they paddled onto the ground. Outside the window, you can see the kids hurrying inside as the rain started ferociously pouring onto the fields.

You sighed, "I'm worried for Mello; I don't know how he'll react after my death; he already has a lot going on with Matt, the mafia, and the Kira case." You hated to be another burden on his cluttered plate.

"He would allow his sentiments to get the better of him," Near predicted. He then set the last dice on the top before making the tower fall all over again. "It's quite effortless to predict Mello," he claimed.

You nodded. "I'm sure he will, though, what would you do after I die, Near?" you wondered out loud; not anticipating a literal response. However, to your wonder, Near answered. 

"Continue to investigate the Kira case," he said.

The Kira Phenomenal. It was covered extensively in the press, both in Asia and internationally. Kira was a difficult foe who presented more questions than possible answers. A case that could not solely be solved with just logic. The incident that killed L.

"Why are you here anyway? You should be working the case and not frittering your time here," you inform him.

Near twirled his locks. "I...think more reasonably when I'm with you, _____," he confesses before repeating the process of piling his dice. As long as the rain outside falls, the dice tower will continue to crumble. 

Hearing him call you by your true name and say something so delightful makes you beam. For him, it was uncommon, so you cherished it. 

"I'm also at peace when I'm with you, Near. So...I'm not as afraid of the aftermath of death when you're still here."

"Perhaps...you're sentimentally cynical," Near said.

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

© UNDERSCAR 2023 - All rights are reserved to underscar. Do not repost, copy, change/modify, plagiarize, translate or screenshot my work: this will also include not reposting my writing on other social media platforms and writing platforms.

[eurydicees]

I WAS JUST ABOUT TO RECOMMEND 'BLUE LOCK' TO YOUUUU!!! IT'S SO GOOD!! PLEASE TALK TO ME ABOUT YOUR FAVORITE CHARACTERS!!

OH MY GOD YES OKAY I AM SOOOOO GLAD TO HEAR YOU ASK ABT THIS BECAUSE I AM LITERALLY INSANE OVER ALL OF IT. I AM UNWELL. I AM NOT ACTING NORMAL ABOUT THIS STORY.

okay anyways now that i've gotten that out of the way. oh my god okay favorite characters lets do this

tbh i am soooo in love with, like, 99% of them. the only character i am actually annoyed by is barou but i also feel like he could grow on me with a few more chapters, yk? oh! just to clarify, i've read up to chp 71!! so some spoilers up until then incoming :) i'm a little insane as i get ready to keep reading. i skipped out on a party to do this LMAO. so favorites! but not in any order because i can't do that!

bachiraaaaa!!! oh my god he is my boy. he is everything to me. just,,, you expect me to read the words "there is a monster inside of me" and expect me to NOT go insane abt it? he plays because it's fun and he's at blue lock to find someone who has the same monster, the same desire and passion, he is SO much and i am obsessed with it. literally the moment he stole the ball from isagi in the tag game they played, i KNEW. he's my type of character fr. rin telling him that "you're searching for someone with your soccer" i'm gonna fucking scream. oh and also he's the sleepy boy representation that i need, so.

^^things i'm not !!! ok !!!!!! about !!!!!

reo.... i just think he has sooooo many issues and they are so so so interesting. like, this is a character who gets everything he wants and then the one thing he really desires is just out of his reach. he is so broken up about nagi, too, and i loooove to see that in my pathetic little men. top ten things that had made me insane so far: reo saying "have you forgotten our promise" in reference to him saying they're going to be the best in the world, followed immediately by nagi saying that he's the one who's forgotten their promise, in reference to reo saying "let's play soccer." i'm literally howling at the moon. screeching at the sun like a bat. i am going crazy over this.

^^^reo you literally have so many problems and i NEED to see you self-destruct

isagi!! tbh idk if i'm really usually a main character person, but i'm a little in love with isagi. he's just. SO interesting. every time he talks about devouring other players' skills and making them his own....i am literally losing my mind. in the game against chigiri, kunigami, and reo, when isagi talks about devouring barou's darkness and turning it into light....catch me literally screaming out loud about him. his growth and "leveling up" is SO much fun to watch/read and i AM dying over it. every time he learns a new weapon or figures out how to better use one, i AM in my bed pumping my fist and screaming go best friend you go best friend!!! i believe the next chp is the game against bachira, rin, aryu, and tokimitsu, and i can already feel myself losing it a little bit.

^^^HELLO?????? I'M NOT OKAY ??????

chigiri! i'm not as insane about him as i am about the others, but i do love him very very much. the "i play for that joy i felt the first time i outran someone" and the "for as long as my legs work i want to play soccer" moments genuinely had me crying no joke. and his whole deal at the very start with "i was looking for a way to give up" versus his growth to wanting to beat isagi and become the best in the world... i am sooo unwell about it. in, like, fifty chapters he's grown SO much and i am so excited to see where he goes from here. and i think the match up between him and aryu is gonna be reeeaaalllyyyy interesting, too!! super excited to see how that pulls through. ahhh. he's just soooo.

^^literally trembling as i read this again

ahhhh. yeah ok extensive list oops. i think those are all the main faves right now !!! i am so broken about them and it has literally been 13 episodes and 70 chapters. that's so fucked up.

the thing is just that this show was, like, TAILOR MADE to all of my interests. it's sooo high stakes and for what. it's my favorite sport in real life. it has characters who need therapy for real. god. yeah.

[meowzfordayz]

talk

Author’s Note: SANEMI !! 😭😍

talk

Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader

Word Count: ~1,100

CW: explicit language, mild sexual content

Song Inspo: Talk by Spencer Sutherland

Request Fulfilled: Heyyyy I have another request 🤭

Can you do a one shot with a reader that tends to ramble? Like they start on one subject but their ADHD brain makes them jump from subject to subject and/or when they're talking they tend to trail off, thinking and mumbling to themself? And one night they're out with some fellow hashira, eating dinner when they start to ramble and Sanemi puts his hand over their mouth and tells them to shut up so they stare at each other for a second before the reader takes his hand from their face and kisses it and he gets all flustered and maybe some of the hashira are like *shook* or like "ooooohhhh" and later he finds them and kisses them or something and it can be really cute and fluffy a then maybe becomes kind of spicy (if that's where the muse takes you) I thought of this the other day and thought it was so cute

Thanks in advance! I'm really enjoying your writing and I hope you're taking care of yourself ☺️

~faqs~

Sanemi isn’t entirely sure if his head’s going to explode from: your incomprehensible train of thought; the oddly enticing aroma of chili and garlic spitting off your tongue every time you jump ship from the injured butterfly you found yesterday to the declaration of changing your favorite color for the nth time since he met you to how you forgot to remove your clothes from the drying line before it rained; or the way you glance at him after every tangent, soft glint in your bright pupils seemingly asking him Do you mind? Obanai’s consistent Mhm’s and I see’s could be to blame as well—not to mention Kyojuro’s UMAI’s (uttered quietly so to not interrupt you, but uttered nonetheless)—but the blossoming, churning ache in his chest tells him otherwise. Surely, if anything, what’s going to explode his head is how with every Do you mind?, he finds himself nuzzling a delicate palpitation in the hollow of his throat, shoulders shrugging No in mild contrast to the YES I FUCKING MIND FUCK’S SAKE FUCKING SHUT UP bouncing tirelessly in his head. Perhaps, the pressure of unexpected tenderness pressed flush against expected irritation balance each other? Perfectly?

“Shinazugawa-san, are you going to eat those?”

With a grunt, Sanemi nudges his plate toward Kyojuro, a few dumplings untouched — the realization that sharing = sitting through more UMAI’s registering too late to snatch them back.

“Shinazugawa-san,” you chime in, “Are you unwell?”

I’m fine. Just too focused on your rambling to even eat, apparently.

“I’m fine.”

“What were you saying about your new lanterns?”

It takes all his self control, and then some, to restrain himself from splintering Obanai’s skull the dining table.

“My new lanterns! So like, I explored this pretty little village recently, and there was this shop with these gorgeous lanterns. Like, spend-my-entire-salary-on-them gorgeous. But, get this, I started browsing, someone came out to greet me… and that someone was the artist! Sooooo exciting! I mean, I figured they were handmade because they looked too, tedious, to be mass produced, but to get to meet the artist?! Of course, I immediately embarrassed myself by gushing and gushing about how stunning their work was. I didn’t even remember to introduce myself! I got to shake their hand, and when I was jokingly like, “So what’s the secret to your lanterns?” tHEY TOOK ME TO THE SIDE ROOM WHERE THEY MADE THEM, AND STARTED SHOWING ME THEIR PROCESS! ISN’T THAT SO COOmfrhmp-”

Ignoring Obanai’s raised eyebrow and Kyojuro’s half chewed dumpling visible because his jaw’s dropped, Sanemi fixates on your wide, indignant stare. Heat emanates from the curve of your clenched jaw as his fingertips dig subconsciously—gently—into the plush of your skin, an involuntary tremor creeping within his thumb, marveling at the vitality of your pulse. Well. I should probably run. Fuck. And then you grasp his index finger; slowly, steadily plucking his middle finger, his ring finger, his pinky, his trembling thumb from your burning cheeks; tucking them between the smoothness of your own fingers; decidedly not breaking wrenching them away; unfurling them with a stuttered confidence until they’re calloused and hesitant; until his palm’s spread vulnerably and fully in front of your face. Sanemi wonders if you’re going to make him slap himself, if you’re going to berate him for muffling you mid sentence, if you’ve noticed the excess saliva smeared slightly below your bottom lip, if you’re going to do anything about it. About the blood in his ears jostling every sound wave surrounding him; unfamiliar, fond laughter threatening to escape his castle and ruin your silence; because Fuck am I nervous?!

You kiss the center of his heart line, Kyojuro’s chopsticks clatter onto the floor, Obanai inhales sharply, and Sanemi swears he blacks out for an infinite second.

“You know what works wonders?”

“W-what?”

Water he thinks Water works fucking wonders for fucking adolescent voice cracks.

“Politely saying, Please stop talking.”

But he feels your fingernails catch on his wrist as you unceremoniously release his hand. Hears the rough, eager lilt of your tone. Sees the flicker of disbelief as you reach toward your bottom lip, only to fluidly place your hands flat on the tabletop. Maybe he imagined it?

“Shinazugawa-san!”

Sanemi pauses, toes scuffing the ground with meticulous interest as he listens to your footsteps to draw near.

“I thought you left?” he mutters.

“Join me?” you’re unperturbed, chin jutting out cheerfully.

“Join you?”

“If you’d like, then I’d be happy to show you my lanterns. They’re difficult to appreciate without firsthand experience.”

“You’re hung up on that?” he snorts, evening’s coolness condensing his bemusement, eyes risking the dart upward.

They’re beautiful.

He swallows.

“Not exactly.”

“I’ll politely say, Please stop talking, next time.”

Your nose scrunches, mirth audible as you grin unabashedly, “Wowie, Shinazugawa-san initiating thoughtfulness?”

“Would you prefer I initiate something else?”

Sanemi’s confession hangs in the air between his held breath and your stilled pace, wry smile tugging at your guard as you poke above his hip.

“How about you initiate walking in the right direction?”

“I’m serious.”

“I’m serious too,” you huff, pointing behind yourself, “My estate is that way.”

“It’s cold.”

“Wear a proper shirt.”

“And I want know you.”

“You do,” now you’re puzzled, gesturing vaguely, “I talk a lot, as you so kindly recognized during dinner thank you very much, so if you don’t know me, then that’s on you.”

“I want to kiss you,” he clarifies.

There are first kisses that are literally your first kiss ever. Sometimes they’re sweet, oftentimes rushed, oftentimes messy. There are first bad kisses. Tongue, teeth, painfully unsexy moaning — everything but the kiss. There are first good kisses. Like mastering a recipe, but the ingredients are a wordless list, the steps an intuitive motion. And there are first kisses with Shianzugawa Sanemi.

Tentative. Clumsy. Honest.

Cradled in moonlight as he gives his whole self to you, eyes closing, awareness blurring, heartbeat pounding in his knuckles, his knees, his elbows. A waltz in an empty corridor — a promise under the law of the stars. I’m an idiot Sanemi’s soul shudders, a drifting bubble with pursed lips and an open heart in the moment before you POP his dismay, your mouth reassuring and content as it puts him back together. Tastes like chili and garlic he sighs faintly, warmth seeping from his hands to your spine Feels like home.