neoclb-recs

[neoclb-recs]

AGHHHH THIS IS TOO FREAKING CUTE

Caught in the web — Suna Rintarou

Suna Rintarou likes spiderman a normal amount, though his friends would say he's pretty much obsessed. He's determined to find out who the hero really is and when he does, he's amazed to find out that spiderman is actually a girl. The manager of his volleyball team, too.

status: COMPLETED

pairing: suna rintarou x spiderman!reader

cw: mdni, friends to lovers, fem reader, college au (yes i simply transformed inarizaki into a college idc i just wanted the characters to be adults bare with me), characters probably ooc, might be suggestive at times, happy ending

taglist: closed!

• • •

chapters:

0.5 – spiderman and the lifesavers | volley freaks

1 – unrequited crush

2 – i don't trust your judgement

3 – not slick

4 – don't freak out 🕷️

5 – off the radars

6 – lover boy

7 – super hot

8 – friday everyday

9 – romantic 🕷️

10 – can't cheat 🕷️

11 – i could

12 – gentle🕷️

13 – insane

[neoclb-recs]

THIS IS SO CUTE!!! i love fics with my humor i love thsi so bad

hostile work environment • lhc smau

humour, college au, coworkers to friends to lovers, haechan is a bit of a creep, miscommunication (HEAVY), reader is jaehyun’s little sister

SYNOPSIS • with student loans and his apartment rent due, psychology major haechan swears he’ll get a job at the record store despite never having worked a day in his life. what happens when he creeps out his workplace mentor, first day on the job? and what happens when she kinda finds him funny?

PAIRING • haechan x fem!reader

STATUS • completed ✔️

WARNINGS • kys/kms jokes, brainrot, mild language, english isn’t my first language so mistakes and typos galore, mature themes

masterlist

profiles: haechan & friends yn & friends

ch1. whats the worse that could happen?

ch2. no resumé?

ch3. candy crush

ch4. cracked phone screen

ch5. locked in

ch6. you think i'm pretty?

ch7. are u flirting rn?

ch8. snoop around

ch9. outlast

ch10. i have other jackets...

ch11. runaway harasser!

ch12. banned from princess tycoon

ch13. the point is…

ch14. worth it?

ch15. babe

ch16. you better watch it

ch17. matcha lovers

[neoclb-recs]

😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔

hey cupid! ☆ iwaizumi h. x reader

synopsis: when one of your best friends needs your help as a buffer for a first date, you could never say no. the only problem is, you and your date get on like oil and water. will you put aside your differences for a mutual cause, or end up taking both relationships down with you?

tags: iwaizumi x fem!reader, smau, college au, forced proximity, blind date, enemies to lovers, happy ending

warnings: language, kys jokes (lots of them), flawed characters, angst, bad writing probably, let me know what i miss. -> check chapter notes for more warnings.

status: complete!

playlist ☆ mlist.

introductions: threat free for: 0 days & exceptional gargantuan honored esteemed large gentlemen

1. i got nervous

2. weird and vague

3. 1-0 Iwaizumi

4. all the dramatics

5. Maturity

6. clash of the titans

7. horrible deja vu

8. war is over (?)

9. training wheels off

10. movie magic

11. that same night

12. a visit

13. about last night...

14. reverie

[neoclb-recs]

all i can say is wow

ways to live: h. iwaizumi

he’s depressed. she’s depressed. it’s all they ever talk about. she’s willing to try anything to feel better. he’s less optimistic

pairings: iwaizumi x f!reader

status: completed, uploading all the chapters today & then disappearing again

tags/warnings: online friends to lovers, blended smau (every chapter has written parts), university au, mini-series, happy ending, hurt/comfort, lots and lots of frank discussions on mental health, depression tweets, casual discussions of suicidal ideation (no death or sh), disordered behaviors, recovery

taglist: i’m not doing one please do not ask to be added

prologue: the list

chapter one: exercise

chapter two: nurture yourself with good nutrition

chapter three: connect with a support system

chapter four: help yourself by helping others

chapter five: demonstrate gratitude

moodboard by @causenessus

[neoclb-recs]

SNUGGLE BUG

Summary: The boys try to get out of bed, their partner has other plans.

Pairing(s): Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, x reader

A/N: unedited

DICK GRAYSON

Dick's always been a physically affectionate person, far more so than the rest of his family. It's why he'd been so ecstatic when he'd found you, a partner that was just as, if not more affectionate than him.

On more than one occasion his siblings had been given front-row seats to the snuggle show when they broke into his apartment, served them right really.

What Dick hadn't accounted for, was just how difficult it was to peel himself from your arms in the morning. Torture would hurt less he's sure.

"Ten more minutes," you whined childishly, burrowing your face into Dick's bare shoulder, tightening your arms around his torso.

"We've already said that three times." Your partner laughed, wriggling out of your hold but with far less strength than you knew he was capable of.

Both of you were fully aware just how quickly he could extracate himself from your arms should the neccessity rise. Technically speaking he did have to go to work, but surely it couldn't hurt to be a little late?

Though a quick glance at the hello kitty alarm clock on the bedside table confirmed he was already late.

"Dickie, can't you just call in? I wanna cuddle."

Fuck. How could he say no to that?

It wasn't like he really needed the money anyway.

His boss's ire is worth it to feel the way you smile into the skin of his neck, your warm breaths and little laughs as you lay tangled together.

So worth it.

JASON TODD

"You planning on letting me go anytime soon?" Jason grunted, though you know him well enough to hear the smile he's attempting to hide.

"Never," you mumble into the skin between his broad shoulder blades, the mattress slouching beneath the combined weight of you and your boyfriend.

Jason, undeterred by your attempts to drag him down, stands with a grunt. A cracking noise you know to be his knees rings out, and though you feel a little bad, you're unwilling to back down in your quest to get him back into bed.

Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend is built like a brick shithouse and is just as stubborn as you. Slowly, he manouevers around your small apartment all the while you hang off his back like a drunken Koala.

"Babyyyy," you whine petulantly into his ear, arms tightening around his neck in an attempt to only slightly choke him into submission.

Sighing, Jason starts to wander back into the bedroom. Just when you think you've won, he spins around, falling backwards onto the mattress and crushing you beneath his bulk.

In the minutes you spend winded, recovering, from being squished like an ant, Jason makes his escape. When you finally manage to come back to yourself you notice something incredibly distressing.

"Clothes! Why are you wearing clothes!" you wailed, sliding off the mattress and onto the floor in a pathetic slump.

Despite himself, Jason smiles at the sight, bundling you up in his arms before hopping back into bed with you. "Ok, you big dramatic baby."

Hey may have sounded put out, but the both of you knew he wanted to cuddle just as much. Besides, nothing was as important to him as you.

TIM DRAKE

He’d tried to be quiet. Truly, with years of training in the art of stealth Tim had intended to simply slip out of the bed and leave you to the sleep you needed.

He’d almost made it, both feet on the floor and the mattress no longer bearing most of his weight when all of a sudden a hand darted out, grasping his wrist.

Tim froze, slowly turning to look down at you with wide, guilty eyes. You're glaring up at him, sleep-addled face far more adorable than threatening, not that he'd ever tell you that, for fear of getting his ass beat.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" your voice is hoarse and gravelly from sleep but the threat is evident.

Mouth suddenly dry, Tim awkwardly chuckles, "Oh, babe, you're awake."

"Thanks to you," you grumbled sleepily, guilt and fear in equal measurements settling heavily in his chest.

"M'sorry, tried not to wake you but I gotta get to work on this case."

"No." You grunted, wrapping your arms around Tim's waist with freakish speed, nuzzling your face into his side.

He can't help the way his heart skips several beats at your casual affection. Tim's always been starved for touch, for the soft loving touch that you've always provided as if its as natural as breathing.

He should be used to it but despite the years worth of love and affection you've poured into Tim in the time you've spent together he still hasn't acclimated.

Tim knows, that you know, just how weak to your touch he is. It still doesn't prevent his resolve from crumbling when you refuse to let him budge, tugging him back down into your warm embrace.

"Good boy," you murmur against the skin of his neck, wrapping around his back like an octopus and trapping him against the expanse of your chest.

His skin runs hot at your words, mind numb to anything that's not your touch as he's eventually lulled back to sleep to the soothing sounds of your breathing.

[neoclb-recs]

I LOVED THIS SO MUCH IT WAS TOO SHORT!!!

stamped

© zumicho all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my works on any platform.

SYNOPSIS : your brother’s best friend is a travelling volleyball sensation. he sends him letters from every country he visits, & you could care less. till.. he starts addressing them to you.

PAIRING ; oikawa tooru x reader SMAU 📼

TAGS / CWS : none of the art is mine unless stated, language, sexual & kys jokes, suggestive, borderline angsty, childhood enemies to lovers *wink wink*

completed 𖦹°⋆ TAGLIST closed

♥︎ .ᐟ.ᐟ FILM BRO POSERS + IWA ; SIDE HOES

────────────────────────

mailbox boy — where it all started

01 . 02 . 03 . 04 . ✎ 05 . 06 . 07 . 08 .

signed sealed delivered — the end of it all

the letters : bonus

────────────────────────

author’s note: it’s over! sad to say this is probably the most poorly executed work on my account — but I’m keeping it up for the sake of those who hold it dear to their heart <3 thank you for reading

@wyrcan @guitarstringed-scars @mimi3lover @itsdragonius @vivian-555 @blueberrygeniejam @cryptictheseus @azharyy @yuminako @iluvmang @aliensstolemyheart @ilyless @tojirin @mylahrins @gra-eae @reads-stuff-quietly @neeksnicoboytoy @elliott0o0 @nnnyxie @chizunata @girlkissersco @kiyoomis-side @scxrcherr @causenessus @eggyrocks @phoenix-eclipses @walllflowerrrsss @gsyche @acowboykisser @swag-only @serossidechick @le000xxgrd @eclecticeggknightpsychic @garfieldissocool @dazqa @venusianeros @youmake1mistake @thechaosoflonging @r0seandth0rns @empress-pug-pug @iad0ru @hyenagoated @chemiru

[neoclb-recs]

shoto todoroki is fucking shameless. and surprisingly clingy.

he’d done a good job becoming a little more social little by little. he’s still a little wonky and awkward during the few times he tries to make conversation, but he tries and that’s the good part. you’re proud of him.

you’ve known shoto since you were kids, his closest friend, you’d seen him through it all and you’re so grateful that he’s found friends he feels comfortable and happy with, though he always reassures you that you’re dearest to him, which always makes you a little too giddy and flustered for somebody who’s supposed to be his closest friend and nothing more.

you’re in the cafeteria chatting with your mutual friends, shoto had told you to go off without him since he needed to go the bathroom and you found yourself sitting next to midoriya when he’d scooched in next to you, happy to see there was still a spot for him at the table. you liked midoriya a lot, he was sweet, cute and most importantly he made shoto come out of his shell in a way that you regrettably never could, plus the way he flails around when he gets embarrassed is pretty funny.

(you did notice ochaco’s face going completely blank for a few seconds, but you didn’t think much about it.)

after a few minutes of giggling and chatting shoto shows up, and something is immediately wrong with the way his natural straight face goes absolutely dead in the span of three seconds. it’s subtle, but you know him and it’s there. there also seems to be a chill in the room now.

he’s at your side of the table in three seconds, but he doesn’t register your smile in greeting as his cold gaze is glued to the green haired boy next to you.

“midoriya,” and his voice even sounds a little deeper, colder as he speaks like he somehow managed to use his right side on his mouth.

“that’s my seat.” he states calmly.

“oh ! my bad, todoroki !” izuku splutters an apology, but shoto’s eyes do not waver, staying fixed on the boy until he grabs his tray and makes a move to stand “i didn’t realize this was your spot, sorry !”

you feel a little bad at how intensely he’s apologizing, but you’re still shell shocked about that look. shoto seems unfazed though, his expression morphs slightly when izuku goes to squeeze in next to iida.

“i always sit next to yn.”

it’s so stupid. really, it is. how fast that makes your heart beat. because shoto does always sit next to you, he always has and he still always does when you come over to his house. but it’s the fact that he didn’t say he always sits here, in his unassigned assigned seat.

he said he always sits next to you. and your mind and heart races.

you don’t get much time to think because immediately he’s next to you, sighing before sitting as close to you as he can. he looks over to you and you look back, still a little startle but his features are soft again when he looks at you. he drops his utensils to thread his fingers with yours under the table.

“ did you wash your hands, mister ?” you tease, but you squeeze his hand when he squeezes yours. he frowns but it’s not the one from before. it almost looks like a pout and you snort.

“yes, i did.” he snips, you giggle and his eyes soften. even as you assure him you were just kidding he doesn’t mind, he couldn’t be mad at you.

you offer him a bite of your lunch as truce and he leans forward and plops a piece in his mouth from your chopsticks, then offers you a bit of his precious soba noodles and even holds a hand below them so they don’t spill because he insists on feeding you himself.

your friends pretend they don’t see the lowkey romantic exchange, but with the way shoto keeps insisting to have you eat his food and the soft barely there smile when you crack a joke that manages to break through his icey demeanor, they can start to figure out why he wanted to sit next to you so bad.

[neoclb-recs]

JUJUTSU KAISEN MASTERLIST ! !

satoru gojo

[neoclb-recs]

i love him trying to be nonchalant but failing miserably 😔 iLOVEE CHALANT GUYS!!!!

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ how clingy sylus copes with your absence

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking

characters: sylus

link to master list here!!!

authors notes: so basically we all love clingy!sylus and i don’t think people talk about it enough, so i here i try to do him some justice </3

i tried not to mischaracterise him, but i find it difficult to imagine how he’d react. he’s a full fledged adult - 27/28 years old - so i can see him trying to be mature about it. but after a while, it gets hard to wait any longer no?

more below the cut!! :3

first few days of your absence sylus is fine, i mean it’s one day - people get busy, people get tired. sylus understands better than most that life gets tough.

he checks his messages maybe two or three times to see if you’ve responded, but nothing. that’s okay, he’ll wait for you.

after five-ish days he’s a little irritated, how could you forget about him for that long?

yeah you could be busy, but seriously?

he gives you a call but it sends straight to voicemail, to which he refuses to leave one.

i bet he secretly feels a little embarrassed at how much your absence is bothering him, and out of spite he refuses to check his phone during the day.

“Tsk, ignoring me?”

luke and kieran definitely notice his small shift in attitude - his nonchalant facade isn’t perfect after all.

they are also secretly cursing you for disappearing, i mean come on! how could you leave them with an angry boss!!

another few days pass, how long has it been since he last saw you? a week?

gets fidgety and cracks, calling you again - no reply.

when he gets sent to voicemail he speaks in his typical, slow tone.

“Why aren’t you picking up my calls, kitten? Get back to me when you listen to this.”

despite his seemingly calm voice, he’s starting to really lose his cool. your absence was unsettling, and yeah he’s disappeared before for a few days on business, he at least picks up calls.

he never leaves you clueless for even a few days, let alone a whole week.

mephisto is sent out for surveillance of the n109 zone, and sylus keeps his phone close. always in his vision, hearing range, whatever.

every notification catches his attention, eyes snapping to the illuminated screen only to slowly drag away when he sees it isn’t you.

from the first to second week of your absence, his irritability shoots up. sylus is getting agitated, brushing it off as annoyance.

after all, what the fuck did he do for you to ignore him for this long?

he texts you almost every day now, the texts getting increasingly shorter, decreasingly floral and more concerned.

“Kitten, why aren’t you picking up my calls?”

“[YN], are you really ignoring me?”

“Hello? Are you okay?”

“Call me.”

he’s calling you every other day now, his sleeping schedule is deteriorating and his mind isn’t focused.

sylus is getting angry at himself, why is he so messed up about this? so what if you haven’t spoken to him in 13 days, isn’t it pathetic to be so affected by your absence?

he lived 27+ years without you, he can live another hundred without.

yet he still finds himself rearranging the plushies you two caught together, checking for your messages, scrolling through your posts.

almost a month has passed since your disappearance, and sylus isn’t getting any better.

why did you go? are you okay? did you get hurt?

god forbid something happened to you.

he’s hired some people to search for you, fuck waiting he’s worried.

finds himself drinking more alcohol with his meals than usual, to the point where even he - a heavy weight - feels his head becoming a little dizzy, his hands twitching for his phone.

one night, after downing a bottle of wine himself, he calls you at least five times, before leaving a voicemail.

his voice lacks its usual slow, bored tone. instead his words are a little slurred, his voice seems a little higher pitched - not too much but it is noticeable - and he’s speaking a little faster too.

“[YN]? Where are you, are you okay? Please pick up, it’s been a month. Do you really- have I deterred you? I know you dislike me, have you ran away? If you have, then at least tell me you’re alive. I mi-”

he catches himself before he says it, because he’s just realised something, something that was so blatantly obvious he feels shocked that he hadn’t noticed it

he misses you, he isn’t angry. he isn’t annoyed that you disappeared, he’s upset.

the fact that it took so long for him to realise is stupid, and all he can do it sit and chuckle drunkenly to himself.

“I miss you, [YN]. Please call me back.”

when you finally call him - exactly 43 days since you left - he almost scrambles to his phone

sylus picks up immediately, yet miraculously finds himself at a loss for words. what does someone say after over a month of waiting?

kind of just stands there, frozen - if you wait before speaking you can hear his almost shaky breaths

“Hey Sylus, you miss me? You left over 13 voicemails and 65 texts, I’m touched.”

gods your voice smoothed over his tense muscles like honey

he sits down, heart beating faster than usual. it’s stupid how much hearing your voice affected him, but he couldn’t help the way his body relaxed at the sound.

if he was a dog his tail would be wagging so fucking hard

“Come here, now.”

when you do arrive, you seriously expect to get killed or something. his tone sounded seriously pissed - i mean like the most pissed you’ve ever heard it

but when you open the door you just get swallowed into a chest and a pair of arms

if you try to move away or struggle, they just hold you tighter and restrict your actions and- oh, sylus is hugging you.

his face is angled down into your head, and you can’t see his expression - only the beating of his heart against you, and it was fast.

“Where the fuck were you? I missed you.”

explain whatever the hell you want to sylus, he’s already decided that you’re not going out without him knowing ever again

probably tries to download some sort of GPS tracker on your hunter’s watch to make sure he knows where you are

TLDR; sylus doesn’t realise how much he really cares for you until you go MIA for over a month in which he starts to genuinely tweak out! :3

AN; guys i actually spat this out in like an hour i think i might have clingy!sylus brain rot because oh my god anyways this isn’t proof read i just needed to express my love for clingy!sylus that gets worried because he isn’t just a dominant badass gang leader he’s also human and he also gets sad and upset and feels emotions argahdbansn he just sucks at recognising his own desires (get it because his evol eye can see other people’s desires but he can’t see his own :3)

[neoclb-recs]

𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒

how do the l&ds boys act when they're driving with you? :)

content: headcanons, established relationship, boys being cute, fluff a/n: the way i was genuinely getting giggly writing this like the chokehold these men have on me,, i also hope that the gacha is kind to all rafayel enthusiasts who are pulling for his memory!

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⟡ ZAYNE

This man is an EXPERIENCED driver. 

Need to be dropped off somewhere? He’ll absolutely drive you when he can.

“But Zayne, it’s 20 minutes out of the way to Asko Hospital.” He folds his arms, a second passes as he tries to come up with a totally brilliant excuse as to wanting to spend as much time with you as he possibly can.  “I was planning on driving a more scenic route today anyway.” 

Finished a mission on the weekend and you’re too tired to go home on your own? He’s picking you up. There’s somehow always your favourite drink sitting in the cup holder waiting for you when you get in.

Drives with one hand on the wheel, the other on the arm rest, fingers lightly drumming against the padded surface. You felt weak in the knees the first time you saw it because it’s honestly so attractive?? He’s performed countless surgeries with extreme precision, so driving must be an effortless task for him. This doesn't go unnoticed by Zayne since he always senses you sneakily glancing over at his hands and forearms. 

Because of this, he now exclusively reverse parks with one hand for the sole purpose of impressing you. He leans super close to the passenger side to check the side mirror. It’s a largely exaggerated act since he has a reverse parking camera built-in his car that can easily help him. He just loves seeing you become so flustered and nervous at his closeness, suddenly interested in everything outside of the car that isn’t him.

⟡ RAFAYEL

Although he doesn't drive too much since Thomas often goes out to run errands for him so he can paint, driving is reserved for him to clear his head when he has an artistic block. Anything to keep his hands and mind occupied on something else. When that does happen, he’ll often ask for you to join him. 

A hundred percent giving you the passenger princess treatment! You two have a shared playlist so you can karaoke in the car together, he always makes sure the air conditioning temperature is adjusted just right so you’re not too hot or cold.

Rides with him are always fun, and you two can comfortably switch between light-hearted and deeper topics—the beautiful scenery in Whitesand Bay being the perfect background for these discussions about art and life.

When you need to get out of the car, he’ll firmly tell you to stay in your seat while he gets out first. You sit there a bit confused until you see him slide over the hood of the car, and rush to your door so he can open it for you and personally escort you out ♡

When you’re waiting for him to pick up your drinks, he’ll approach your open window and pretend to be a stranger trying to hit on you. 

“Hey there gorgeous, can I get your number?” You can’t stop laughing. “Rafayel! Just get in already!” “Oh? Who’s Rafayel? What a handsome name… No way, is he your boyfriend!? He must be lucky to have a person like you in his life.”

⟡ XAVIER

Xavier is honestly someone who doesn’t mind taking public transport or even walking to places he needs to get to. As long as he has you to accompany him, a walk to Twinkle Toys to play claw machines, or catching a train to go shopping in Azure Square sounds like a good plan to him. 

When he does need to drive, your safety is his number one priority!!

His hands are always at 10 and 2 on the wheel, he’s always checking his mirrors making sure there aren’t any hazards around. It's endearing to see him be so careful. When there are bad drivers that try to speed past or cut his car off, he’ll put an arm out in front of you as a protection so you don’t lurch forward in your seat.

“Are you alright?” He feels a twinge of panic. “That must’ve scared you, I’m sorry.” He shakes his head. “Seriously, it’s a miracle these people passed their driving test.” Does he realise some of the things he does feel straight out of a Linkon romance drama?! 

And don't worry, if you’re putting makeup on or doing your hair in the car, he’ll slow down and let you know if there’s a speed bump coming up so you don’t accidentally hurt yourself :(

Loves having plushies and cushions in the car! Customise his car to your heart's desire; he wants you to be as comfortable as possible (and also secretly likes showing off your shared prize wins to other hunters who carpool with him).

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[neoclb-recs]

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

zayne catches you being a little unfocused because of his hands...

content: zayne x gn!reader; established relationship; zayne being an absolute tease but it lowkey backfires on him; ~1k words a/n: the spirit of the 2005 pride and prejudice mr darcy hand flex scene possessed me when i wrote the ending of this fic. i hope you enjoy zayne's shenanigans hehe

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Although Zayne is an expert at controlling his reactions, he can’t help but smirk when he notices your gaze flick between the page of your book and his hands. You thought you were being subtle. Sitting beside each other on the couch, him absorbed in note taking and you feigning focus in reading, should have given you enough cover to allow for your sneaky glances. However, the surgeon trained in detecting even the most minute abnormalities can sense your eyes lingering for a second longer every time. 

One, two, three, four seconds. Zayne counts in his head. 

From his periphery, it’s obvious how your head slightly turns to the left. He finds it cute how determined you are to hide it. Untucking the hair behind your ear to cover your eyes, flipping the page every now and again to shift suspicion away. He considers whether he should say something. 

One, two, three, four, five seconds. 

“How is your reading going?” he asks. 

He puts his pen down and uses his thumb to massage the heel of his opposite palm, alternating between hands. He wraps his left hand around his right wrist, holding it in place so he can rotate it to release a few cracks. Every movement is slow and methodical. Nothing more than a well-calculated display just for you. 

It was an innocent question, yet you feel like you’ve been caught. 

“Oh! It’s going well, you know, some interesting things are happening right now.” 

Zayne closes his notebook and turns to give you his full attention. He rests an arm on the back of the sofa, slowly drumming against the plush surface with his fingers. 

“Really? Like what?”

You frantically lift your book up, eyes darting back to the page.

“Well, the main character has just entered the foreseer’s palace and uhm...” your voice trails off. 

“I know, you told me that before we sat here.” He shifts closer to you, your bodies now touching. He wraps his arm around your shoulder, plucking the book from your grasp. Your body freezes at his unexpected closeness. 

Head leaning forward to inspect the words, he flicks back a few pages. His breath is near your ear as he speaks, 

“That was about… three pages ago? And yet, you can’t recall what you’ve just read.”

He hums in thought. Goosebumps form on your skin at the low timbre of his voice. He moves the bookmark back to its original location and places the book on the table. 

“Has there been something else occupying your mind?” 

Your heart leaps to your throat as you face him. He isn’t wearing his glasses, and his hair is slightly tousled from being recently dried. Unmistakably, amusement glitters in his eyes. 

You huff, “You’re teasing me now, aren’t you?”

Your flat stare at him makes the corners of his lips lift. He breathes a laugh, never getting over how much he loves seeing your expressions. 

“Your reactions are too fun to not at least try. Although, I’m not satisfied just yet.”

You feel Zayne’s hand drift down from your shoulder to rest at your waist, electrifying the skin under your clothes. 

“I’d still like you to make your intentions clear to me.” 

You shy away from his boldness. “Okay, okay, I just thought your hands looked pretty, that’s all,” you mumble, playing it off as nonchalantly as possible, embarrassment bubbling inside you. His touch disappears as he withdraws his arm from your side. Puzzled, you watch him examine his hands in front of you. 

“Pretty? Hm…that’s a new one.”

There’s a faint sadness in his tone. He absentmindedly rubs the scarring on his forearms, a consequence of his evol powers. “I can’t imagine why something so unremarkable would be so interesting to you.”

The opportunity presents itself and you take both his hands in yours. 

His skin is cool to the touch as you glide a thumb over his knuckles. He briefly tenses. You pat his knuckles in reassurance, a signal that he can relax. His fingers are slender, with prominent veins trailing along the backs of his hands. 

Hands that are a testament to his skill and dexterity as a surgeon. Hands capable of playful touches and soft embraces that you feel lucky enough to experience everyday. 

Zayne has trouble steadying his heart rate. He tries to recall the slow breathing exercises he instructs patients to use, but his thoughts get muddled when you connect palms and interlock your fingers with his. Despite it being his own orchestration that led to this, he’s become putty in your hands. Your touch is delicate, treating him like he’s fragile ice. He admits to himself how nice it feels for you to give him this kind of attention. 

“I don’t know if you’ll believe me, but they’re not unremarkable to me, Zayne. I think they’re beautiful.”

You squeeze his hands in emphasis. A moment passes.

There is such sincerity in your eyes, he can’t help but begin to believe those words, believe practically anything you say right now. 

“Well,” his voice comes out more uneven than he expected, “I do think highly of your opinion.” 

He releases your hands. The surprise on your face reminds him of a child whose toy is packed away before they can finish playing. Another expression of yours to log in his head. 

“You should get back to your reading. I’ve distracted you for long enough.”

He collects his items from the table and stands, handing your book back. Before he leaves, he kisses you on the forehead and you happily lean into it. You feel quite accomplished. Perhaps this means he’ll let you hold his hands like that more often. You become quickly engrossed in your novel as he walks past. 

He’s grateful you don’t look up at that moment to see him flex his hands, an unfamiliar heat pulsing through them. The sensation of your touch lingers with him for the rest of the night.

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[neoclb-recs]

THIS IS SOSOSOSO CUTE😭😭😭 i loevthem so bad

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄.ᐟ

what happens when you don't use their pet name to call them?

⟡ content: zayne/sylus/xavier/rafayel x gn!reader; more dialogue heavy; silly and cute

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

ZAYNE ⟡

“Can you help me put this on, Zayne?”

From the reflection in the mirror, you tried not to react at the twist in his brow and the momentary confusion in his eyes. Wordlessly, he moved behind you, fingers taking the necklace out of your hand. With his gaze focused on the task before him, you could see him open his mouth, hesitating to speak.

“Did I do something wrong?” he questioned.

Zayne’s deft hands carefully laid the chain around your neck, centering the pendent between your collarbones.

You plastered on your most innocent expression, despite the twinge of guilt you felt at his question.

“Hm? Why do you ask?”

Swiftly, he clasped the ends of the chain together. His eyes flicked towards yours in the mirror.

“You’re calling me by my first name. I thought pet names were an important step in a relationship for you.”

You nodded. “Yes, Zayne, I do think it’s an important step.”

His eyes narrowed at your continual uncharacteristic responses.

Folding his arms, he mused aloud. “It took you some time to drop the title ‘doctor’ for me and to just use my name. After we became official, you were quick to call me ‘love’.”

You fiddled with your necklace, trying to, impossibly, force away the heat from your face.

“So, either I did something to make you upset, or”—he leaned in close to you, the side of his face almost touching yours—“you’re playing a trick on me.”

You gave a mock frown. He cocked his head to the side, awaiting your response.

“Okay, okay, it was a prank.” Sighing, you surrendered to his deductions. “I wanted to see how you’d react, but you saw right through me,” you mumbled.

His lips quirked. “I’ve known you for long enough to figure these things out.”

Wanting to wipe off the amused look he had on his face, you quickly planted a kiss on his cheek. His face turned into surprise. He chuckled, shaking his head at your triumphant smile.

“Thank you for helping me, my love."

SYLUS ⟡

“Sylus, could you play that new record you bought?”

You called from the sofa. Standing by the record player, he turned to face you. The offence on his face was unmistakable as he placed his hands on his hips.

“Sylus?” he scoffed. “We both know that’s not what you call me.”

Your brows furrowed, feigning confusion. “What are you talking about? Isn’t that your name?”

“Sweetie,” he levelled a look scepticism at you, “that hasn’t been my name for the past month we’ve been together.”

“I still don’t know what you mean, Sylus.”

He paused. Gears turned in his head trying to unpack what was happening, much like he would do when reading the truthfulness of a dealer during a bargain.

“Y/N.”

You’ve never heard your own name being said in such a serious manner. Perhaps you got a taste of your own medicine.

“I’m not particularly fond of lose-lose situations.” The softness in his tone made you feel weak. “You can tell me if I’ve done something to annoy you. I won’t be angry.”

“Not at all!” you quickly blurted out. Unable to hide it any longer, you confessed. “You haven’t done anything to annoy me. I was just trying to pull a small prank.”

All the tension visibly released from his body. A relieved sigh escaped him. “You really do play some dangerous games, kitten.”

Playfulness returned to his voice. “Now then, how will you correct your mistake?”

“Honey,” you drawled out each syllable, making it sound as syrupy as the nickname itself, “could you play that new record you bought now?”

Sylus couldn’t help but laugh at your exaggeration. “Why of course.”

XAVIER ⟡

“Xavier, do you want to try this?”

Subtly glancing at his reaction from the kitchen, you saw his face immediately fall into a pout. The look was fatal, and it took all the willpower you had not to drop the ruse right then and there.

“That’s not my name,” he answered.

“What do you mean?” you chuckled, continuing to put icing on the sugar cookies you baked. “Of course it is!”

“No, it’s not,” he insisted.

Placing his book down, he walked to stand at your side by the counter. You avoided his eye contact, pretending that nothing was amiss.

Resting a hand under his chin, he began to think. “You usually call me bunny, sweetheart, sunshine, or darling.”

Your jaw dropped in amused shock. “You remember all the names I’ve called you?”

His mouth twitches. “There are some more, but… they might be a bit embarrassing to say aloud right now.”

That was enough to make you look at him with wide eyes.

“Xavier!” Your face turned pink as you slapped his shoulder. There was no force behind the hit, but enough to convey your embarrassment.

“You did it again. You used the wrong name.” He stuck his bottom lip out.

You gently poked at his cheek, trying to lift the corner of his lip upwards. “Come on, don’t be sad darling.”

Immediately, he brightened before you.

“It was just a joke I saw couples do online. I wanted to see how you’d react.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “And was my reaction satisfactory?”

“I think it was,” you smiled at him, "but it’s a shame I didn’t film it, it would’ve made for a good Moments post.”

He shook his head. “But, the nicknames we use are only for us.”

The finished cookie in your hand had a bite suddenly taken from it as Xavier leaned down to have a taste.

“I don’t want anyone else to know.”

RAFAYEL ⟡

“Are you ready to go yet, Rafayel?”

He continued to hum to himself, completely ignoring you. You folded your arms as you watched him busy himself with something trivial. He flung open a random cupboard and inspected what appeared to be an assortment of spare art supplies.

“Rafayel,” you called again.

He then turned his attention to the fishbowl in the centre of the room, where a small orange fish darted around.

“Reddie, do you hear something?” he asked, gazing so earnestly into the bowl. This fish paused its movement and stared back at his owner.

“Rafayel~” you sang his name aloud this time, extending the last syllable.

He gasped, apparently receiving some confirmation from Reddie.

“You hear something too? Thank god. I was thinking there must be something wrong with my ears.”

Surveying the room around him, Rafayel intentionally looked past you standing barely a few metres from him, tapping your foot against the wooden floorboards of his studio.

“It sounds like”—he continued—“some kind of voice. Someone familiar to me, but I can’t make out who it is.”

“Rafayel!” you shouted his name between fits of laughter. Only he could respond to your jokes with his own dramatics.

He sucked in a breath in puzzlement. “I wonder who this person is calling out to.”

“Baby,” you finally conceded, “I’m talking to you!”

It seemed like he couldn’t keep up the act either, as he started laughing with you.

“Took you long enough,” he huffed, moving towards you and linking your arm with his. “Otherwise, Reddie and I would have been searching for this phantom voice for the rest of the day.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[neoclb-recs]

imagine having your own little book club with jason, just the two of you. every few weeks you pick a book to read, and then you set a designated time to talk about the book. he very rarely misses book club, and you always tell him its fine if he does but this time with you is just so important to him and he'd be remiss if he let something get in the way of it.

sometimes you read the same book and talk about what parts really stuck with you, which characters you hated, if you saw the plot twist coming (he always does), etc.

sometimes you read different books and annotate. talking about them very vaguely in passing so that when you're both done you can exchange them and get a little peek into the others mind.

when you open the books he gives you they're always annotated like crazy, and it's shocking at first but eventually you realize that he's annotated with you in mind. all of the highlighted lines remind him of you, and he leaves little notes in the margins telling you why.

"i thought this would make you laugh." (and it did) or "can't really put into words how much i love you but this comes pretty close."

he knows you so well, knows you like the back of his hand, knows you like you're apart of him.

and so without fail, every time a line sticks out to you, it's already been highlighted, underlined, or asterisked. with an arrow leading to a tiny note that shows once again how true jasons love for you is.

(bonus: if it's one of the books he's read over and over and over again since he was a kid, one of the classics, he'd find new meaning in it after falling for you. so much new meaning that it often feels he's like reading an entirely new book and he gets to fall in love with that piece of literature all over again, all because of you)

[neoclb-recs]

THE LENGTHS I’D GO FOR YOU (JASON TODD) [HOLIDAY BLURB]

notes/cw ~ GN!reader, fluff, thanksgiving, (title has been changed multiple times)

The frigid winter air seeps through your gloves, and into your hands, stiffening them more than before.         

It’s just above freezing, but it feels below, and you pull the collar of your thick coat further up your neck in an attempt to put the inevitable cold you’ll develop after tonight at bay.

Streetlights illuminate the sidewalk, but heavy downpour casts a shadow on the already dark city, rendering them useless; and you’re trudging through sludge in boots that had been sitting in storage for years, now noticing how not a single person was outside right now.

You should’ve taken notes.

The plate of food covered in cling wrap sits in one hand while your free hand alternates between tugging your scarf tighter around your neck and shielding your face against the harsh winds.

You might die out here.

You might die out in the worst snowstorm to hit Gotham in decades, all because that really cute boy you had met in the bookstore around a year ago said he hadn’t spent thanksgiving with anyone in ages.

Of course, he wasn’t just ‘that really cute boy you had met in the bookstore around a year ago’ anymore, now more so your boyfriend. 

But still.

You wouldn’t be doing this for anybody else.

Anybody.

You come upon the entrance to his apartment building, the awning covering enough sidewalk to leave room for a mostly clear path to the front door. Carefully, stepping out of the snow onto the pavement you walk up to the buzzer and ring for his apartment.

You have a key; you’ve had one for months; but your gloves won't allow you to maneuver it without difficulty and if you lose it in the snow, you might just give up right there and let the hypothermia take you. 

Rocking back on your heels, you awkwardly wait, hoping for Jason to be awake right now, lest you be forced to walk back home, which you could not do. You wouldn’t make it.

“Who?” 

The single word uttered through the intercom warms you up in a way no fire ever could; and you press the button swiftly to communicate a response.

“Hi.”

Silence.

“What the hell.” Followed by a buzzing sound, and the lock on the front door clicking open.

You pull at the door, which is heavy on a normal day but today specifically, under these circumstances, it feels like it weighs multiple tons.

Still, your arms—weak from the frost induced exhaustion—manage to pry it open and you slip inside to the much warmer interior, reveling in the heat only for a second, before hastily make your way to the elevator and up towards the floor on which Jason lives.

A ding indicates you’ve arrived, and when the doors open you quicken your pace, excited to see his smile when he sees your frostbitten face. Instead, when he cracks open the door, you’re met with a, “there’s something seriously wrong with you.”

“I’m sorry I love you.” You say, feigning sadness, and contorting your mouth into a pout; you tilt your head to the side and give him the sweetest puppy dog eyes you can muster.

“This isn’t love.” He says, opening the door fully, allowing you space to move inside. “It’s insanity,” but he still takes the plate out of your hands and helps remove your jacket.

You stand still as he unwraps the scarf from your neck and removes the hat and gloves from your hands and head, carefully placing them flat on a surface so that they can dry evenly.

When he turns back around to face you, he sighs, “come here.” He says, opening his arms; and you accept the invitation, closing the gap between you and letting him wrap his arms around you in a tight hug.

“You’re cold as shit.”

“I know,” you sigh into his chest, eyes closed, leaning into his warm embrace.

“You were out there for a while huh?” 

You could feel the vibrations from his voice as he spoke into the top of your head asking questions while you responded with half assed answers, more focused on how much more comforting he is than the harsh weather outside.

“What if something had happened?”

“You would’ve saved me.”

“How could I save you if I didn’t know you were coming?”

“Sixth sense.”

“I don’t have one of those.”

“No, but you could develop one.”

“For what?”

“For me.”

“Ah ok, I see,” he slides his hands up and down your back, breathing in the smell of your shampoo. “Well until I develop that sixth sense, don’t go walking around in snowstorms without giving me a heads up. I can’t save you if I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing.”

Finally letting go, he pulls back to look at your face, “you are so lucky I like you.” 

“You fucking love me.”

All he does is grunt in response, but you can see that familiar shadow of a smile that always seems to be there when you’re with him.

He picks up the plate which had been previously left on some table and examines its contents. “Your cooking?” He says looking at you with a raised brow.

You roll your eyes, “my mom’s.”

He nods his head silently and unwraps the food, placing it in the microwave and setting a timer for it to heat up. 

“You weren’t gonna eat it if it was mine huh?”

“Nope.”

“Good to know."

[neoclb-recs]

"NORMAL" FOR YOU (JASON TODD)

notes/cw ~ GN!reader, fluff, minorish angst (idk to me it's minor), has been renamed, (also this is only my second time ever writing in second person, i'm still learning so plz cut me some slack)

It’s 4:36 in the morning when the soft thud of boots landing on the fire escape outside your apartment interrupts the sleep you were finally starting to slip into; and it’s 4:37 when the window in your bedroom is pried open by large gloved hands, followed by the maneuvering of a large figure through said window.

Even with increased agility from years of training, he still manages to knock over a couple of the trinkets occupying your windowsill; and even though you can feel how tired he is from feet away, he still picks each item up off the floor, examining the objects for cracks or breaks before placing them back in their rightful spots.

“I don’t know why you keep coming through that window.” Drowsiness drips from your voice, but you know it’s nothing compared to what he’s feeling. “I cleared off the one in the living room to avoid this exact situation.” 

“Coming in this way is just better.” 

“Yeah, maybe for you, but not for my stuff.” 

A breathy laugh escapes his lips, and he walks over to your side of the bed, placing his knee on the edge and his hands beside your head. His palms dig into the plush cotton of the pillows and blankets around you, and he hovers for a second, before dipping down and placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“I like when you’re the first thing I see after patrol.” 

You look up at him to see the sleazy smile you know is on his face, but all you can focus on is the exhaustion evident in his features. Bags under his eyes and deep-set lines that would disappear with a couple of nights of good sleep riddle his face, and your mouth turns downward in a frown as you think about how badly he needs a night off.

He notices the way you react to the effects of his nightly activities and immediately gauges what's on your mind. “I can't,” he says, pulling back from you, standing up and turning around, starting the process of removing his tactical gear.

You suck in a tense breath, the sudden change in atmosphere giving you whiplash.

You watch his back as he removes the multiple layers of protective clothing that keep him coming home to you.

“Can’t what?” It’s a dumb question that you both know the answer to and have always known the answer to. 

It’s a dumb question that you both know the answer to, but you ask anyway even though the answer remains the same and has remained the same since you found out about his ‘occupation.'

He lets out a sigh, moving towards the dresser and opening a drawer to find some pajamas. 

“I can’t take a night off.” He lets his head drop, hands gripping the knobs, “and I can’t give you the life that you want…the normal life that you deserve.” The words come out strained, like they’re paining him, and they’re definitely paining you. 

You refrain from saying anything, knowing that when he gets like this it’s better to give him some time to let his rationale come back instead of trying to sway his thoughts.

A beat of silence goes by, and he pulls out some clean clothes then disappears into the bathroom across the hallway, not before gently closing the bedroom door behind him, ever the considerate boyfriend, even in his self-loathing moments.

The back of your head hits the pillow behind you, and you exhale lightly. Eyes drooping and body feeling heavy, you pull the blanket up to your neck and try to let sleep takeover. 

A few minutes pass before the soft sound of hinges squeaking interrupts the silence around you, and Jason shuffles around the room, quietly locking the window and putting stuff away.

The bed dips and he climbs under the covers, sliding one arm under your head and the other over your hip. Even in a sleepy, semi-agitated state you readily accept his warmth as a safety net.

“I wouldn’t be with you if I didn’t want to be.”

You feel him sigh against the back of your head, pulling you as close to him as possible, “I know.”

“Do you really?” You say slowly, fighting sleep. “Because it often feels like you don’t.” 

No response.

“I don’t know what you think ‘normal’ is Jason, but if it doesn’t include you then I don’t want it.” 

“I’m sorry," He whispers tentatively.

And your heart aches knowing the amount of love you give him may never be enough to heal the deep wounds leftover from years of being made to feel like a burden.

“You don’t have to apologize, but you do need to stop questioning my decision-making skills.” Your body shifts in his arms so you’re face to face with him, “I could do a whole lot worse than you.”

He lets out a wry chuckle that hides some sadness in it, “yeah…you’re right.” 

You hum, satisfied with his lack of protest, and open your eyes long enough to see a content look on his face, before closing them once more.

For a few minutes you lay in silence wrapped in his arms, reveling in the comfort of each other's company.

But eventually you lose the battle to sleep, and your brain drifts off into a dream land. Everything in the world around you is temporarily gone while you explore the expanse of your subconscious, and a world where Jason takes a night off every once in a while.

“I love you.” He says quietly, barely audible.

And he knows you don’t hear it, so he’ll say it again in the morning; and every morning after that as long as you’re by his side.

[neoclb-recs]

THIS IS SOSOOSO CUTEEEE

hell week is the realest thinf ever guysDO NOT DO EXTRACURRICULARS 😭😭😭😭/j

on stage- s. hinata

shoyo has always been an energetic guy. most days he takes out this energy on the volleyball court, but when his friends encourage him to audition for a play, he's surprised to find how perfectly he fits into the tight knit community, and how easy it is to fall in love with the director.

shoyo hinata x f!reader

warnings/notes: university au, theater kids au lowkey, language, alcohol, reader is a theater director, prob ooc, check individual chapter warnings for more info

taglist: open! send ask to be added!

status: complete!

✫

cast list:

backstage + toru | ball boys

table of contents

ACT 1

scene 1: take your bets

scene 2: full house

scene 3: whenever you’re ready

scene 4: i hope i get it

scene 5: please don’t cancel me

scene 6: take one

scene 7: cast & crew bonding

scene 8: uh oh

INTERMISSION

ACT 2

scene 1: time passes

scene 2: hell week

scene 3: hell week cont.

scene 4: opening night and final bows

[neoclb-recs]

girl i was abt ready to cry good god

this is so crazy man i just need more ☹️

PERFECT DUET (JASON TODD)

notes/cw ~ GN!reader, angst !!!, childhood friends to lovers set up, (1.7k wc)

You remember the day Red Hood came rolling into town, news stations spoke of a masked man, slinging guns and antagonizing Batman while simultaneously lowering Gotham City’s crime rates. He was a force to be reckoned with, his brutality leaving criminals and civilians both cowering in fear day in and day out. Men and women alike debated whether or not petty crimes were worth committing if it meant a potential run-in with Red; but soon enough, the city of Gotham, New Jersey, would realize that he didn’t waste his time with small-time shoplifters and carjackers. No, he had an agenda. An agenda that included the crime lords of Gotham and you.

Even though you had never and would never commit a crime, you constantly felt like you were being watched as if you were on a most wanted list. Months, you spent looking over your shoulder, wondering if you might have caught the eye of a crazy person, wondering if one day you’d come home to find security cameras installed in places where privacy was sacred. To you, this never coincided with the Red Hood's arrival in Gotham; and yet you did come home one day, but not to cameras, to Jason. Red helmet in hand, with a singular flower, and an apology on the tip of his tongue.

Yeah, he looked different. He was bigger, taller, and more muscular than when you’d last seen him. His face had matured, baby fat you used to pinch, replaced with hollow cheeks and a sharp jawline. He looked different, but you could tell without a doubt that it was him. The color of his eyes, albeit a little more green than you remembered, had the familiarity of a childhood stuffed animal; of an object that had meant something to you in a past life. You knew it was him, and yet he had died, and a part of you died with him. You had seen his cold, lifeless body in that velvet-lined coffin, traces of the boy you once loved under thick layers of waxy funeral makeup. He had died, and yet here he was, in front of you and holding a flower in place of an olive branch.

The following days felt like months, a reminder of the agonizingly slow aftermath of his death. You had learned throughout life how to compose yourself when your emotions were starting to get the best of you. This time was no different. Instead of a normal reaction like an onslaught of questions spilling from your mouth, breaking down into tears on the floor of your apartment, or even an awkward hug; you had given him a little more than a once over—just enough to take in his appearance—and then locked yourself in your room for the rest of the night. You could feel Jason's eyes burning a hole through the door, could swear he was on the other side watching and waiting for you to come back, to jump into his arms like you used to under the guise of friendship. But when you woke up the next morning he was gone, no trace of him being there to begin with, and you almost thought you had dreamed it. When you finally stepped outside the next morning, for the first time in ages, you didn’t feel you were being watched, and you knew then that it wasn’t a crazy person whose interest you’d piqued, it was Jason's.

Months passed before you saw him again. The disassociation had been getting worse by the minute since that night. You’d been living life on autopilot, a ghost of the person you’d grown into. Layers of armor built up after the night Alfred rang your home phone, gone. Leaving you raw and exposed to memories you’d thought better left in the past. You never wanted to forget him, but the agony that was growing without him by your side left your brain choosing self-preservation over anything else. You had chosen it then, on the day before junior year when you locked away every physical memento you had of him in a box and put it in the attic of your childhood home, and you’d chosen it again now when you pushed the recent events of his reentry into your life, to the back of your mind.

An unpredicted rainstorm vetoed your decision, leaving you stuck in some cafe in the diamond district. The combined smell of imported beans and high-end perfumes left you sick to your stomach; but not nearly as sick as when you locked eyes with Jason, sitting in the corner of the establishment, book in hand, but clearly not reading. You had been acutely aware of his presence the entire time; you couldn’t not be. It made the room spin, knowing what you knew about him in such a public place. It made you queasy and faint, like the entire world would soon turn black and you’d end up on the cold tiled floor waiting for someone to hold coffee beans under your nose in an attempt to wake you up. You almost made a run for it out the door; but the heavy sheets of water sliding down the glass windows, blurred the outside world into more of a watercolor painting than your reality, and you deluded yourself into thinking none of it was real, and anything said inside those four walls would cease to exist when the rain stopped.

A few steps taken towards him and you were ready to turn back around, but the clarity you felt, the fog that had incapacitated your brain for so long, was gone in that moment; and you knew if you stepped out into that rain, it would come right back. You remember his face when you sat down across from him, even after your moment of rejection, he still looked at you so fondly. “I always knew I’d see you again.” He had said with so much certainty. And you would come to find that all of the tears for him that you had held in would be shed anyway in the coming years.

Picking up where you left off proved to be impossible, and resuming a years-old friendship with a years-long break wasn’t something either of you could do. Not with both of your hearts tucked away with the other for so long. Not when you had spent years stealing glances at him in class when you were supposed to be working on labs and taking pencils from him from the opposite end to avoid touching his hand in fear that he’d feel the heat radiating off of you. Not when you were green with envy when he got his first girlfriend and rearranged his schedule to spend more time with her, leaving you feeling hopeless for a couple of months. Not when you practically jumped for joy when he came to you mopey and sad because she’d broken up with him to get with a star athlete, not knowing he was jumping from buildings and doing backflips in his spare time. Not when you’d taken him down to the pier, treating him to funnel cake and cotton candy with babysitting money you’d been saving up for a rainy day. And not when the two of you sat at the top of the Ferris wheel, feet dangling over Gotham and wind blowing in your face. His lovelorn eyes, bluer back then, peered over the bar that kept you from falling. He sat back with a sigh, his boyish features had sorrow written all over them. “I’d never hurt you like that.” is what you wanted to say that night, but instead all you could manage was an, “I’m sorry.” followed by, “Do you want to come over for dinner?” 

Not when a month later, your mom shook you awake in the middle of the night, calling your name with the same tone of voice she saved for when a close relative passed. Vision blurred and heartbeat quickening, “Is grandma okay?” you asked, rubbing sleep out of your bleary eyes. Pale, that's what her face was when she said, “No- yes. Grandma's fine.” she pursed her lips, trying to keep her composure but the lack of color in her complexion told you something bad had happened. “It’s…” You were alert by then, waiting patiently to hear whose funeral you’d be attending soon. “It’s Jason.” 

Lovesick. Sick with love. Sick with something. Whatever it was, it kept you from moving past the depression stage of grief for ages. Denial, anger, bargaining, they all came and went rather quickly; but the depression never left, not even when you had seemingly slipped into the acceptance stage. Your family watched you go back to your normal routines, continuing life the way it had been before. You got up in the morning, went to school, and came home exactly as you’d done when he was still alive. Of course, they didn’t see how you struggled to breathe when you saw his seat empty in homeroom, they didn’t see the way people stared at you walking the hallways alone for the first time in years, the boy typically beside you, now six feet under. They didn’t see how you cried yourself to sleep on his birthday that year, and how you subsequently cried yourself to sleep every year after that. No, they didn’t see any of it, and truthfully, they didn’t want to; you couldn’t blame them, not even you did. 

Lovesick. Sick with love. Sick with something. Sick with, “how long were you dead?” 

“Six months.”

Six years of grief for only six months of death. If you were still fifteen you would’ve jumped for joy, thrown a party, and invited your friends and families. You would’ve laughed yourself silly at how absurd it was that he was back with you so soon, how everything was normal again, and how this would just be a funny story you’d tell as an adult. In your early 20’s it was no longer so soon, it was no longer something to throw a party over, you wouldn’t invite friends or family, you wouldn’t even know how to explain any of it to them, and you certainly wouldn’t be laughing about it. All you could do was nod silently, taking the occasional sip from the cup of chamomile tea in your hands, trying your best to let him explain before anger got the best of you.

ro's first time writing angst, how do we feel ?? wrote this in the midst of a BAD case of writers block but fuck it we ball yk, inspired by perfect duet by ed sheeran and beyoncé but if you listen to it and wonder where the happy lovey dovey stuff is plz know i intend to write a pt 2 (key word, intend. i'm not great on follow ups), also if someone wants to give me a lesson a grammar and punctuation plz do bc it's kicking my ass !!